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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..c718565 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53411 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53411) diff --git a/old/53411-0.txt b/old/53411-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 31fc15d..0000000 --- a/old/53411-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19942 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eve, by Sabine Baring-Gould - -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: Eve - A Novel - -Author: Sabine Baring-Gould - -Release Date: October 30, 2016 [EBook #53411] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected. - -—Bold text has been rendered as =bold text=. - -—Superscript letters have been rendered as a^b and a^{bc}. - - - - - EVE - - A Novel - - BY THE - - REV. S. BARING GOULD - - AUTHOR OF - ‘JOHN HERRING’ ‘MEHALAH’ ‘RED SPIDER’ - ETC. - -[Illustration: LOGO] - - London - - CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY - - 1891 - - - - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. MORWELL 1 - - II. THE LITTLE MOTHER 9 - - III. THE WHISH-HUNT 16 - - IV. EVE’S RING 22 - - V. THE LIMPING HORSE 31 - - VI. A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 35 - - VII. A NIGHT-WATCH 44 - - VIII. BAB 51 - - IX. THE POCKET-BOOK 57 - - X. BARBARA’S PETITION 65 - - XI. GRANTED! 71 - - XII. CALLED AWAY 80 - - XIII. MR. BABB AT HOME 86 - - XIV. A SINE QUÂ NON 93 - - XV. AT THE QUAY 100 - - XVI. WATT 107 - - XVII. FORGET-ME-NOT! 113 - - XVIII. DISCOVERIES 121 - - XIX. BARBARA’S RING 127 - - XX. PERPLEXITY 132 - - XXI. THE SCYTHE OF TIME 138 - - XXII. THE RED STREAK 146 - - XXIII. A BUNCH OF ROSES 152 - - XXIV. WHERE THEY WITHERED 159 - - XXV. LEAH AND RACHEL 165 - - XXVI. AN IMP OF DARKNESS 172 - - XXVII. POOR MARTIN 179 - - XXVIII. FATHER AND SON 186 - - XXIX. HUSH-MONEY 193 - - XXX. BETRAYAL 199 - - XXXI. CALLED TO ACCOUNT 205 - - XXXII. WANDERING LIGHTS 212 - - XXXIII. THE OWLS 219 - - XXXIV. THE DOVES 226 - - XXXV. THE ALARM BELL 232 - - XXXVI. CONFESSIONS 239 - - XXXVII. THE PIPE OF PEACE 246 - - XXXVIII. TAKEN! 251 - - XXXIX. GONE! 258 - - XL. ANOTHER SACRIFICE 265 - - XLI. ANOTHER MISTAKE 271 - - XLII. ENGAGED 277 - - XLIII. IN A MINE 283 - - XLIV. TUCKERS 290 - - XLV. DUCK AND GREEN PEAS 296 - - XLVI. ‘PRECIOSA’ 302 - - XLVII. NOAH’S ARK 308 - - XLVIII. IN PART 316 - - XLIX. THE OLD GUN 322 - - L. BY THE FIRE 328 - - LI. A SHOT 334 - - LII. THE WHOLE 340 - - LIII. BY LANTERN-LIGHT 347 - - LIV. ANOTHER LOAD 354 - - LV. WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS 357 - - - - - EVE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -MORWELL. - - -THE river Tamar can be ascended by steamers as far as Morwell, one -of the most picturesque points on that most beautiful river. There -also, at a place called ‘New Quay,’ barges discharge their burdens of -coal, bricks, &c., which thence are conveyed by carts throughout the -neighbourhood. A new road, admirable as one of those of Napoleon’s -construction in France, gives access to this quay—a road constructed at -the outlay of a Duke of Bedford, to whom belongs all the land that was -once owned by the Abbey of Tavistock. This skilfully engineered road -descends by zigzags from the elevated moorland on the Devon side of the -Tamar, through dense woods of oak and fir, under crags of weathered -rock wreathed with heather. From the summit of the moor this road runs -due north, past mine shafts and ‘ramps,’ or rubble heaps thrown out -of the mines, and meets other roads uniting from various points under -the volcanic peak of Brent Tor, that rises in solitary dignity out of -the vast moor to the height of twelve hundred feet, and is crowned by -perhaps the tiniest church in England. - -Seventy or eighty years ago no such roads existed. The vast upland was -all heather and gorse, with tracks across it. An old quay had existed -on the river, and the ruins remained of the buildings about it erected -by the abbots of Tavistock; but quay and warehouses had fallen into -decay, and no barges came so far up the river. - -The crags on the Devon side of the Tamar rise many hundred feet in -sheer precipices, broken by gulfs filled with oak coppice, heather, and -dogwood. - -In a hollow of the down, half a mile from the oak woods and crags, with -an ancient yew and Spanish chestnut before it, stood, and stands still, -Morwell House, the hunting-lodge of the abbots of Tavistock, built -where a moor-well—a spring of clear water—gushed from amidst the golden -gorse brakes, and after a short course ran down the steep side of the -hill, and danced into the Tamar. - -Seventy or eighty years ago this house was in a better and worse -condition than at present: worse, in that it was sorely dilapidated; -better, in that it had not suffered tasteless modern handling to -convert it into a farm with labourers’ cottages. Even forty years ago -the old banquetting hall and the abbot’s parlour were intact. Now -all has been restored out of recognition, except the gatehouse that -opens into the quadrangle. In the interior of this old hall, on the -twenty-fourth of June, just eighty years ago, sat the tenant: a tall, -gaunt man with dark hair. He was engaged cleaning his gun, and the -atmosphere was foul with the odour exhaled by the piece that had been -recently discharged, and was now being purified. The man was intent on -his work, but neither the exertion he used, nor the warmth of a June -afternoon, accounted for the drops that beaded his brow and dripped -from his face. - -Once—suddenly—he placed the muzzle of his gun against his right side -under the rib, and with his foot touched the lock. A quiver ran over -his face, and his dim eyes were raised to the ceiling. Then there came -from near his feet a feeble sound of a babe giving token with its lips -that it was dreaming of food. The man sighed, and looked down at a -cradle that was before him. He placed the gun between his knees, and -remained for a moment gazing at the child’s crib, lost in a dream, -with the evening sun shining through the large window and illumining -his face. It was a long face with light blue eyes, in which lurked -anguish mixed with cat-like treachery. The mouth was tremulous, and -betrayed weakness. - -Presently, recovering himself from his abstraction, he laid the gun -across the cradle, from right to left, and it rested there as a bar -sinister on a shield, black and ominous. His head sank in his thin -shaking hands, and he bowed over the cradle. His tears or sweat, or -tears and sweat combined, dropped as a salt rain upon the sleeping -child, that gave so slight token of its presence. - -All at once the door opened, and a man stood in the yellow light, like -a mediæval saint against a golden ground. He stood there a minute -looking in, his eyes too dazzled to distinguish what was within, but he -called in a hard, sharp tone, ‘Eve! where is Eve?’ - -The man at the cradle started up, showing at the time how tall he was. -He stood up as one bewildered, with his hands outspread, and looked -blankly at the new comer. - -The latter, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to the obscurity, after -a moment’s pause repeated his question, ‘Eve! where is Eve?’ - -The tall man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. - -‘Are you Ignatius Jordan?’ - -‘I am,’ he answered with an effort. - -‘And I am Ezekiel Babb. I am come for my daughter.’ - -Ignatius Jordan staggered back against the wall, and leaned against it -with arms extended and with open palms. The window through which the -sun streamed was ancient; it consisted of two lights with a transom, -and the sun sent the shadow of mullion and transom as a black cross -against the further wall. Ignatius stood unconsciously spreading his -arms against this shadow like a ghastly Christ on his cross. The -stranger noticed the likeness, and said in his harsh tones, ‘Ignatius -Jordan, thou hast crucified thyself.’ Then again, as he took a seat -unasked, ‘Eve! where is Eve?’ - -The gentleman addressed answered with an effort, ‘She is no longer -here. She is gone.’ - -‘What!’ exclaimed Babb; ‘no longer here? She was here last week. Where -is she now?’ - -‘She is gone,’ said Jordan in a low tone. - -‘Gone!—her child is here. When will she return?’ - -‘Return!’—with a sigh—’never.’ - -‘Cursed be the blood that flows in her veins!’ shouted the new comer. -‘Restless, effervescing, fevered, fantastic! It is none of it mine, -it is all her mother’s.’ He sprang to his feet and paced the room -furiously, with knitted brows and clenched fists. Jordan followed him -with his eye. The man was some way past the middle of life. He was -strongly and compactly built. He wore a long dark coat and waistcoat, -breeches, and blue worsted stockings. His hair was grey; his protruding -eyebrows met over the nose. They were black, and gave a sinister -expression to his face. His profile was strongly accentuated, hawklike, -greedy, cruel. - -‘I see it all,’ he said, partly to himself; ‘that cursed foreign blood -would not suffer her to find rest even here, where there is prosperity. -What is prosperity to her? What is comfort? Bah! all her lust is after -tinsel and tawdry.’ He raised his arm and clenched fist. ‘A life -accursed of God! Of old our forefathers, under the righteous Cromwell, -rose up and swept all profanity out of the land, the jesters, and the -carol singers, and theatrical performers, and pipers and tumblers. But -they returned again to torment the elect. What saith the Scripture? -Make no marriage with the heathen, else shall ye be unclean, ye and -your children.’ - -He reseated himself. ‘Ignatius Jordan,’ he said, ‘I was mad and wicked -when I took her mother to wife; and a mad and wicked thing you did -when you took the daughter. As I saw you just now—as I see you at -present—standing with spread arms against the black shadow cross from -the window, I thought it was a figure of what you chose for your lot -when you took my Eve. I crucified myself when I married her mother, and -now the iron enters your side.’ He paused; he was pointing at Ignatius -with out-thrust finger, and the shadow seemed to enter Ignatius against -the wall. ‘The blood that begins to flow will not cease to run till it -has all run out.’ - -Again he paused. The arms of Jordan fell. - -‘So she has left you,’ muttered the stranger, ‘she has gone back to the -world, to its pomps and vanities, its lusts, its lies, its laughter. -Gone back to the players and dancers.’ - -Jordan nodded; he could not speak. - -‘Dead to every call of duty,’ Babb continued with a scowl on his brow, -‘dead to everything but the cravings of a cankered heart; dead to the -love of lawful gain; alive to wantonness, and music, and glitter. Sit -down, and I will tell you the story of my folly, and you shall tell me -the tale of yours.’ He looked imperiously at Jordan, who sank into his -chair beside the cradle. - -‘I will light my pipe.’ Ezekiel Babb struck a light with flint and -steel. ‘We have made a like experience, I with the mother, you with the -daughter. Why are you downcast? Rejoice if she has set you free. The -mother never did that for me. Did you marry her?’ - -The pale man opened his mouth, and spread out, then clasped, his hands -nervously, but said nothing. - -‘I am not deaf that I should be addressed in signs,’ said Babb. ‘Did -you marry my daughter?’ - -‘No.’ - -‘The face of heaven was turned on you,’ said Babb discontentedly, ‘and -not on me. I committed myself, and could not break off the yoke. I -married.’ - -The child in the cradle began to stir. Jordan rocked it with his foot. - -‘I will tell you all,’ the visitor continued. ‘I was a young man when -I first saw Eve—not your Eve, but her mother. I had gone into Totnes, -and I stood by the cloth market at the gate to the church. It was the -great fair-day. There were performers in the open space before the -market. I had seen nothing like it before. What was performed I do not -recall. I saw only her. I thought her richly, beautifully dressed. Her -beauty shone forth above all. She had hair like chestnut, and brown -eyes, a clear, thin skin, and was formed delicately as no girl of this -country and stock. I knew she was of foreign blood. A carpet was laid -in the market-place, and she danced on it to music. It was like a flame -flickering, not a girl dancing. She looked at me out of her large -eyes, and I loved her. It was witchcraft, the work of the devil. The -fire went out of her eyes and burnt to my marrow; it ran in my veins. -That was witchcraft, but I did not think it then. There should have -been a heap of wood raised and fired, and she cast into the flames. -But our lot is fallen in evil days. The word of the Lord is no longer -precious, and the Lord has said, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to -live.” That was witchcraft. How else was it that I gave no thought to -Tamsine Bovey, of Buncombe, till it was too late, though Buncombe joins -my land, and so Buncombe was lost to me for ever? Quiet that child if -you want to hear more. Hah! Your Eve has deserted you and her babe, but -mine had not the good heart to leave me.’ - -The child in the cradle whimpered. The pale man lifted it out, got milk -and fed it, with trembling hand, but tenderly, and it dozed off in his -arms. - -‘A girl?’ asked Babb. Jordan nodded. - -‘Another Eve—a third Eve?’ Jordan nodded again. ‘Another generation of -furious, fiery blood to work confusion, to breed desolation. When will -the earth open her mouth and swallow it up, that it defile no more the -habitations of Israel?’ - -Jordan drew the child to his heart, and pressed it so passionately that -it woke and cried. - -‘Still the child or I will leave the house,’ said Ezekiel Babb. ‘You -would do well to throw a wet cloth over its mouth, and let it smother -itself before it work woe on you and others. When it is quiet, I will -proceed.’ He paused. When the cries ceased he went on: ‘I watched Eve -as she danced. I could not leave the spot. Then a rope was fastened -and stretched on high, and she was to walk that. A false step would -have dashed her to the ground. I could not bear it. When her foot was -on the ladder, I uttered a great cry and ran forward; I caught her, I -would not let her go. I was young then.’ He remained silent, smoking, -and looking frowningly before him. ‘I was not a converted man then. -Afterwards, when the word of God was precious to me, and I saw that -I might have had Tamsine Bovey, and Buncombe, then I was sorry and -ashamed. But it was too late. The eyes of the unrighteous are sealed. I -was a fool. I married that dancing girl.’ - -He was silent again, and looked moodily at his pipe. - -‘I have let the fire die out,’ he said, and rekindled as before. ‘I -cannot deny that she was a good wife. But what availed it me to have -a woman in the house who could dance like a feather, and could not -make scald cream? What use to me a woman who brought the voice of a -nightingale with her into the house, but no money? She knew nothing of -the work of a household. She had bones like those of a pigeon, there -was no strength in them. I had to hire women to do her work, and she -was thriftless and thoughtless, so the money went out when it should -have come in. Then she bore me a daughter, and the witchery was not off -me, so I called her Eve—that is your Eve, and after that she gave me -sons, and then’—angrily—’then, when loo late, she died. Why did she not -die half a year before Tamsine Bovey married Joseph Warmington? If she -had, I might still have got Buncombe—now it is gone, gone for ever.’ - -He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it into his pocket. - -‘Eve was her mother’s darling; she was brought up like a heathen to -love play and pleasure, not work and duty. The child sucked in her -mother’s nature with her mother’s milk. When the mother died, Eve—your -Eve—was a grown girl, and I suppose home became unendurable to her. One -day some play actors passed through the place on their way from Exeter, -and gave a performance in our village. I found that my daughter, -against my command, went to see it. When she came home, I took her into -the room where is my great Bible, and I beat her. Then she ran away, -and I saw no more of her; whether she went after the play actors or not -I never inquired.’ - -‘Did you not go in pursuit?’ - -‘Why should I? She would have run away again. Time passed, and the -other day I chanced to come across a large party of strollers, when I -was in Plymouth on business. Then I learned from the manager about my -child, and so, for the first time, heard where she was. Now tell me how -she came here.’ - -Ignatius Jordan raised himself in his chair, and swept back the hair -that had fallen over his bowed face and hands. - -‘It is passed and over,’ he said. - -‘Let me hear all. I must know all,’ said Babb. ‘She is my daughter. -Thanks be, that we are not called to task for the guilt of our -children. The soul that sinneth it shall surely die. She had light and -truth set before her on one side as surely as she had darkness and lies -on the other, Ebal and Gerizim, and she went after Ebal. It was in her -blood. She drew it of her mother. One vessel is for honour—such am -I; another for dishonour—such are all the Eves from the first to the -last, that in your arms. Vessels of wrath, ordained to be broken. Ah! -you may cherish that little creature in your arms. You may strain it -to your heart, you may wrap it round with love, but it is in vain that -you seek to save it, to shelter it. It is wayward, wanton, wicked clay; -ordained from eternity to be broken. I stood between the first Eve and -the shattering that should have come to her. That is the cause of all -my woes. Where is the second Eve? Broken in soul, broken maybe in body. -There lies the third, ordained to be broken.’ He folded his arms, was -silent a while, and then said: ‘Tell me your tale. How came my daughter -to your house?’ - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE LITTLE MOTHER. - - -‘LAST Christmas twelvemonth,’ said Ignatius Jordan slowly, ‘I was on -the moor—Morwell Down it is called. Night was falling. The place—where -the road comes along over the down, from Beer Alston and Beer Ferris. -I dare say you came along it, you took boat from Plymouth to Beer -Ferris, and thence the way runs—the packmen travel it—to the north to -Launceston. It was stormy weather, and the snow drove hard; the wind -was so high that a man might hardly face it. I heard cries for help. I -found a party of players who were on their way to Launceston, and were -caught by the storm and darkness on the moor. They had a sick girl with -them——’ His voice broke down. - -‘Eve?’ asked Ezekiel Babb. - -Jordan nodded. After a pause he recovered himself and went on. ‘She -could walk no further, and the party was distressed, not knowing -whither to go or what to do. I invited them to come here. The house is -large enough to hold a score of people. Next day I set them on their -way forward, as they were pressed to be at Launceston for the Christmas -holidays. But the girl was too ill to proceed, and I offered to let -her remain here till she recovered. After a week had passed the actors -sent here from Lannceston to learn how she was, and whether she could -rejoin them, as they were going forward to Bodmin, but she was not -sufficiently recovered. Then a month later, they sent again, but though -she was better I would not let her go. After that we heard no more -of the players. So she remained at Morwell, and I loved her, and she -became my wife.’ - -‘You said that you did not marry her.’ - -‘No, not exactly. This is a place quite out of the world, a lost, -unseen spot. I am a Catholic, and no priest comes this way. There is -the ancient chapel here where the Abbot of Tavistock had mass in the -old time. It is bare, but the altar remains, and though no priest ever -comes here, the altar is a Catholic altar. Eve and I went into the old -chapel and took hands before the altar, and I gave her a ring, and we -swore to be true to each other’—his voice shook, and then a sob broke -from his breast. ‘We had no priest’s blessing on us, that is true. -But Eve would never tell me what her name was, or whence she came. If -we had gone to Tavistock or Brent Tor to be married by a Protestant -minister, she would have been forced to tell her name and parentage, -and that, she said, nothing would induce her to do. It mattered not, -we thought. We lived here out of the world, and to me the vow was -as sacred when made here as if confirmed before a minister of the -established religion. We swore to be all in all to each other.’ - -He clasped his hands on his knees, and went on with bent head: ‘But -the play-actors returned and were in Tavistock last week, and one of -them came up here to see her, not openly, but in secret. She told me -nothing, and he did not allow me to see him. She met him alone several -times. This place is solitary and sad, and Eve of a lively nature. She -tired of being here. She wearied of me.’ - -Babb laughed bitterly. ‘And now she is flown away with a play-actor. -As she deserted her father, she deserts her husband and child, and the -house that housed her. See you,’ he put out his hand and grasped the -cradle: ‘Here lies vanity of vanities, the pomps of the flesh, the -lust of the eye, and the pride of life, nestled in that crib, that -self-same strain of leaping, headlong, wayward blood, that never will -rest till poured out of the veins and rolled down into the ocean, and -lost—lost—lost!’ - -Jordan sprang from his seat with a gasp and a stifled cry, and fell -back against the wall. - -Babb stooped over the cradle and plucked out the child. He held it in -the sunlight streaming through the window, and looked hard at it. Then -he danced it up and down with a scoffing laugh. - -‘See, see!’ he cried; ‘see how the creature rejoices and throws forth -its arms. Look at the shadow on the wall, as of a Salamander swaying in -a flood of fire. Ha! Eve—blood! wanton blood! I will crucify thee too!’ -He raised the babe aloft against the black cross made by the shadow of -the mullion and transom, as the child had thrown up its tiny arms. - -‘See,’ he exclaimed, ‘the child hangs also!’ - -Ignatius Jordan seized the babe, snatched it away from the rude grasp -of Babb, clasped it passionately to his breast, and covered it with -kisses. Then he gently replaced it, crowing and smiling, in its cradle, -and rocked it with his foot. - -‘You fool!’ said Babb; ‘you love the strange blood in spite of its -fickleness and falseness. I will tell you something further. When -I heard from the players that Eve was here, at Morwell, I did not -come on at once, because I had business that called me home. But a -fortnight after I came over Dartmoor to Tavistock. I did not come, as -you supposed, up the river to Beer Ferris and along the road over your -down; no, I live at Buckfastleigh by Ashburton, right away to the east -across Dartmoor. I came thence as far as Tavistock, and there I found -the players once more, who had come up from Plymouth to make sport for -the foolish and ungodly in Tavistock. They told me that they had heard -you lived with my Eve, and had not married her, so I did not visit -you, but waited about till I could speak with her alone, and I sent a -message to her by one of the players that I was wanting a word with -her. She came to me at the place I had appointed once—ay! and twice—and -she feigned to grieve that she had left me, and acted her part well as -if she loved me—her father. I urged her to leave you and come back to -her duty and her God and to me, but she would promise nothing. Then I -gave her a last chance. I told her I would meet her finally on that -rocky platform that rises as a precipice above the river, last night, -and there she should give me her answer.’ - -Ignatius Jordan’s agitation became greater, his lips turned livid, his -eyes were wide and staring as though with horror, and he put up his -hands as if warding off a threatened blow. - -‘You—you met her on the Raven Rock?’ - -‘I met her there twice, and I was to have met her there again last -night, when she was to have given me her final answer, what she would -do—stay here, and be lost eternally, or come back with me to Salvation. -But I was detained, and I could not keep the engagement, so I sent one -of the player-men to inform her that I would come to-day instead. So I -came on to-day, as appointed, and she was not there, not on the Raven -Rock, as you call it, and I have arrived here,—but I am too late.’ - -Jordan clasped his hands over his eyes and moaned. The babe began to -wail. - -‘Still the yowl of that child!’ exclaimed Babb. ‘I tell you this as a -last instance of her perfidy.’ He raised his voice above the cry of the -child. ‘What think you was the reason she alleged why she would not -return with me at once—why did she ask time to make up her mind? She -told me that you were a Catholic, she told me of the empty, worthless -vow before an old popish altar in a deserted chapel, and I knew her -soul would be lost if she remained with you; you would drag her into -idolatry. And I urged her, as she hoped to escape hell fire, to flee -Morwell and not cast a look behind, desert you and the babe and all -for the Zoar of Buckfastleigh. But she was a dissembler. She loved -neither me nor you nor her child. She loved only idleness and levity, -and the butterfly career of a player, and some old sweetheart among the -play company. She has gone off with him. Now I wipe my hands of her -altogether.’ - -Jordan swayed himself, sitting as one stunned, with an elbow on each -knee and his head in the hollow of his hands. - -‘Can you not still the brat?’ cried Ezekiel Babb, ‘now that the mother -is gone, who will be the mother to it?’ - -‘I—I—I!’ the cry of an eager voice. Babb looked round, and saw a -little girl of six, with grey eyes and dark hair, a quaint, premature -woman, in an old, long, stiff frock. Her little arms were extended; -‘Baby-sister!’ she called, ‘don’t cry!’ She ran forward, and, kneeling -by the cradle, began to caress and play with the infant. - -‘Who is this?’ asked Ezekiel. - -‘My Barbara,’ answered Ignatius in a low tone; ‘I was married before, -and my wife died, leaving me this little one.’ - -The child, stooping over the cradle, lifted the babe carefully out. The -infant crowed and made no resistance, for the arms that held it, though -young, were strong. Then Barbara seated herself on a stool, and laid -the infant on her lap, and chirped and snapped her fingers and laughed -to it, and snuggled her face into the neck of the babe. The latter -quivered with excitement, the tiny arms were held up, the little hands -clutched in the child’s long hair and tore at it, and the feet kicked -with delight. ‘Father! father!’ cried Barbara, ‘see little Eve; she is -dancing and singing.’ - -‘Dancing and singing!’ echoed Ezekiel Babb, ‘that is all she ever -will do. She comes dancing and singing into the world, and she will -go dancing and singing out of it—and then—then,’ he brushed his hand -through the air, as though drawing back a veil. The girl-nurse looked -at the threatening old man with alarm. - -‘Keep the creature quiet,’ he said impatiently; ‘I cannot sit here and -see the ugly, evil sight. Dancing and singing! she begins like her -mother, and her mother’s mother. Take her away, the sight of her stirs -my bile.’ - -At a sign from the father Barbara rose, and carried the child out of -the room, talking to it fondly, and a joyous chirp from the little one -was the last sound that reached Babb’s ears as the door shut behind -them. - -‘Naught but evil has the foreign blood, the tossing fever-blood, -brought me. First it came without a dower, and that was like original -sin. Then it prevented me from marrying Tamsine Bovey and getting -Buncombe. That was like sin of malice. Now Tamsine is dead and her -husband, Joseph Warmington, wants to sell. I did not want Tamsine, but -I wanted Buncombe; at one time I could not see how Buncombe was to be -had without Tamsine. Now the property is to be sold, and it joins on -to mine as if it belonged to it. What Heaven has joined together let -not man put asunder. It was wicked witchcraft stood in the way of my -getting my rightful own.’ - -‘How could it be your rightful own?’ asked Ignatius; ‘was Tamsine Bovey -your kinswoman?’ - -‘No, she was not, but she ought to have been my wife, and so Buncombe -have come to me. I seem as if I could see into the book of the Lord’s -ordinance that so it was written. There’s some wonderful good soil in -Buncombe. But the Devil allured me with his Eve, and I was bewitched -by her beautiful eyes and little hands and feet. Cursed be the day -that shut me out of Buncombe. Cursed be the strange blood that ran as -a dividing river between Owlacombe and Buncombe, and cut asunder what -Providence ordained to be one. I tell you,’ he went on fiercely, ‘that -so long as all that land remains another’s and not mine, so long shall -I feel only gall, and no pity nor love, for Eve, and all who have -issued from her—for all who inherit her name and blood. I curse——’ his -voice rose to a roar, and his grey hair bristled like the fell of a -wolf, ‘I curse them all with——’ - -The pale man, Jordan, rushed at him and thrust his hand over his mouth. - -‘Curse not,’ he said vehemently; then in a subdued tone, ‘Listen to -reason, and you will feel pity and love for my little one who inherits -the name and blood of your Eve. I have laid by money: I am in no -want. It shall be the portion of my little Eve, and I will lend it -you for seventeen years. This day, the 24th of June, seventeen years -hence, you shall repay me the whole sum without interest. I am not a -Jew to lend on usury. I shall want the money then for my Eve, as her -dower. _She_’—he held up his head for a moment—‘_she_ shall not be -portionless. In the meantime take and use the money, and when you walk -over the fields you have purchased with it,—bless the name.’ - -A flush came in the sallow face of Ezekiel Babb. He rose to his feet -and held out his hand. - -‘You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds?’ - -‘I will lend you fifteen hundred.’ - -‘I will swear to repay the sum in seventeen years. You shall have a -mortgage.’ - -‘On this day.’ - -‘This 24th day of June, so help me God.’ - -A ray of orange light, smiting through the window, was falling high up -the wall. The hands of the men met in the beam, and the reflection was -cast on their faces,—on the dark hard face of Ezekiel, on the white -quivering face of Ignatius. - -‘And you bless,’ said the latter, ‘you bless the name of Eve, and the -blood that follows it.’ - -‘I bless. Peace be to the restless blood.’ - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE WHISH-HUNT. - - -ON a wild and blustering evening, seventeen years after the events -related in the two preceding chapters, two girls were out, in spite -of the fierce wind and gathering darkness, in a little gig that -accommodated only two, the body perched on very large and elastic -springs. At every jolt of the wheels the body bounced and swayed in a -manner likely to trouble a bad sailor. But the girls were used to the -motion of the vehicle, and to the badness of the road. They drove a -very sober cob, who went at his leisure, picking his way, seeing ruts -in spite of the darkness. - -The moor stretched in unbroken desolation far away on all sides but -one, where it dropped to the gorge of the Tamar, but the presence -of this dividing valley could only be guessed, not perceived by the -crescent moon. The distant Cornish moorland range of Hingston and the -dome of Kit Hill seemed to belong to the tract over which the girls -were driving. These girls were Barbara and Eve Jordan. They had been -out on a visit to some neighbours, if those can be called neighbours -who lived at a distance of five miles, and were divided from Morwell by -a range of desolate moor. They had spent the day with their friends, -and were returning home later than they had intended. - -‘I do not know what father would say to our being abroad so late, and -in the dark, unattended,’ said Eve, ‘were he at home. It is well he is -away.’ - -‘He would rebuke me, not you,’ said Barbara. - -‘Of course he would; you are the elder, and responsible.’ - -‘But I yielded to your persuasion.’ - -‘Yes, I like to enjoy myself when I may. It is vastly dull at Morwell, -Tell me, Bab, did I look well in my figured dress?’ - -‘Charming, darling; you always are that.’ - -‘You are a sweet sister,’ said Eve, and she put her arm round Barbara, -who was driving. - -Mr. Jordan, their father, was tenant of the Duke of Bedford. The -Jordans were the oldest tenants on the estate which had come to the -Russells on the sequestration of the abbey. The Jordans had been -tenants under the abbot, and they remained on after the change of -religion and owners, without abandoning their religion or losing -their position. The Jordans were not accounted squires, but were -reckoned as gentry. They held Morwell on long leases of ninety-nine -years, regularly renewed when the leases lapsed. They regarded Morwell -House almost as their freehold; it was bound up with all their family -traditions and associations. - -As a vast tract of country round belonged to the duke, it was void -of landed gentry residing on their estates, and the only families of -education and birth in the district were those of the parsons, but the -difference in religion formed a barrier against intimacy with these. -Mr. Jordan, moreover, was living under a cloud. It was well-known -throughout the country that he had not been married to Eve’s mother, -and this had caused a cessation of visits to Morwell. Moreover, since -the disappearance of Eve’s mother, Mr. Jordan had become morose, -reserved, and so peculiar in his manner, that it was doubted whether he -were in his right mind. - -Like many a small country squire, he farmed the estate himself. At -one time he had been accounted an active farmer, and was credited -with having made a great deal of money, but for the last seventeen -years he had neglected agriculture a good deal, to devote himself to -mineralogical researches. He was convinced that the rocks were full of -veins of metal—silver, lead, and copper, and he occupied himself in -searching for the metals in the wood, and on the moor, sinking pits, -breaking stones, washing and melting what he found. He believed that he -would come on some vein of almost pure silver or copper, which would -make his fortune. Bitten with this craze, he neglected his farm, which -would have gone to ruin had not his eldest daughter, Barbara, taken the -management into her own hands. - -Mr. Jordan was quite right in believing that he lived on rocks rich -with metal: the whole land is now honeycombed with shafts and adits: -but he made the mistake in thinking that he could gather a fortune out -of the rocks unassisted, armed only with his own hammer, drawing only -out of his own purse. His knowledge of chemistry and mineralogy was not -merely elementary, but incorrect; he read old books of science mixed up -with the fantastic alchemical notions of the middle ages, believed in -the sympathies of the planets with metals, and in the virtues of the -divining rod. - -‘Does a blue or a rose ribbon suit my hair best, Bab?’ asked Eve. ‘You -see my hair is chestnut, and I doubt me if pink suits the colour so -well as forget-me-not.’ - -‘Every ribbon of every hue agrees with Eve,’ said Barbara. - -‘You are a darling.’ The younger girl made an attempt to kiss her -sister, in return for the compliment. - -‘Be careful,’ said Barbara, ‘you will upset the gig.’ - -‘But I love you so much when you are kind.’ - -‘Am not I always kind to you, dear?’ - -‘O yes, but sometimes much kinder than at others.’ - -‘That is, when I flatter you.’ - -‘O if you call it flattery——’ said Eve, pouting. - -‘No—it is plain truth, my dearest.’ - -‘Bab,’ broke forth the younger suddenly, ‘do you not think Bradstone a -charming house? It is not so dull as ours.’ - -‘And the Cloberrys—you like them?’ - -‘Yes, dear, very much.’ - -‘Do you believe that story about Oliver Cloberry, the page?’ - -‘What story?’ - -‘That which Grace Cloberry told me.’ - -‘I was not with you in the lanes when you were talking together. I do -not know it.’ - -‘Then I will tell you. Listen, Bab, and shiver.’ - -‘I am shivering in the cold wind already.’ - -‘Shiver more shiveringly still. I am going to curdle your blood.’ - -‘Go on with the story, but do not squeeze up against me so close, or I -shall be pushed out of the gig.’ - -‘But, Bab, I am frightened to tell the tale.’ - -‘Then do not tell it.’ - -‘I want to frighten you.’ - -‘You are very considerate.’ - -‘We share all things, Bab, even our terrors. I am a loving sister. Once -I gave you the measles. I was too selfish to keep it all to myself. -Are you ready? Grace told me that Oliver Cloberry, the eldest son, was -page boy to John Copplestone, of Warleigh, in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, -you know—wicked Queen Bess, who put so many Catholics to death. Squire -Copplestone was his godfather, but he did not like the boy, though he -was his godchild and page. The reason was this: he was much attached to -Joan Hill, who refused him and married Squire Cloberry, of Bradstone, -instead. The lady tried to keep friendly with her old admirer, and -asked him to stand godfather to her first boy, and then take him as his -page; but Copplestone was a man who long bore a grudge, and the boy -grew up the image of his father, and so—Copplestone hated him. One day, -when Copplestone was going out hunting, he called for his stirrup cup, -and young Cloberry ran and brought it to him. But as the squire raised -the wine to his lips he saw a spider in it; and in a rage he dashed the -cup and the contents in the face of the boy. He hit Oliver Cloberry -on the brow, and when the boy staggered to his feet, he muttered -something. Copplestone heard him, and called to him to speak out, if he -were not a coward. Then the lad exclaimed, “Mother did well to throw -you over for my father.” Some who stood by laughed, and Copplestone -flared up; the boy, afraid at what he had said, turned to go, then -Copplestone threw his hunting dagger at him, and it struck him in the -back, entered his heart, and he fell dead. Do you believe this story, -Bab?’ - -‘There is some truth in it, I know. Prince, in his “Worthies,” says -that Copplestone only escaped losing his head for the murder by the -surrender of thirteen manors.’ - -‘That is not all,’ Eve continued; ‘now comes the creepy part of the -story. Grace Cloberry told me that every stormy night the Whish Hounds -run over the downs, breathing fire, pursuing Copplestone, from Warleigh -to Bradstone, and that the murdered boy is mounted behind Copplestone, -and stabs him in the back all along the way. Do you believe this?’ - -‘Most assuredly not.’ - -‘Why should you not, Bab? Don’t you think that a man like Copplestone -would be unable to rest in his grave? Would not that be a terrible -purgatory for him to be hunted night after night? Grace told me that -old Squire Cloberry rides and blows his horn to egg-on the Whish -Hounds, and Copplestone has a black horse, and he strikes spurs into -its sides when the boy stabs him in the back, and screams with pain. -When the Judgment Day comes, then only will his rides be over. I am -sure I believe it all, Bab. It is so horrible.’ - -‘It is altogether false, a foolish superstition.’ - -‘Look there, do you see, Bab, we are at the white stone with the cross -cut in it that my father put up where he first saw my mother. Is it not -strange that no one knows whence my mother came? You remember her just -a little. Whither did my mother go?’ - -‘I do not know, Eve.’ - -‘There, again, Bab. You who sneer and toss your chin when I speak of -anything out of the ordinary, must admit this to be passing wonderful. -My mother came, no one knows whence; she went, no one knows whither. -After that, is it hard to believe in the Whish Hounds, and Black -Copplestone?’ - -‘The things are not to be compared.’ - -‘Your mother was buried at Buckland, and I have seen her grave. You -know that her body is there, and that her soul is in heaven. But as for -mine, I do not even know whether she had a human soul.’ - -‘Eve! What do you mean?’ - -‘I have read and heard tell of such things. She may have been a -wood-spirit, an elf-maid. Whoever she was, whatever she was, my father -loved her. He loves her still. I can see that. He seems to me to have -her ever in his thoughts.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara sadly, ‘he never visits my mother’s grave; I alone -care for the flowers there.’ - -‘I can look into his heart,’ said Eve. ‘He loves me so dearly because -he loved my mother dearer still.’ - -Barbara made no remark to this. - -Then Eve, in her changeful mood, went back to the former topic of -conversation. - -‘Think, think, Bab! of Black Copplestone riding nightly over these -wastes on his black mare, with her tail streaming behind, and the -little page standing on the crupper, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing; and -the Whish Hounds behind, giving tongue, and Squire Cloberry in the rear -urging them on with his horn. O Bab! I am sure father believes in this, -I should die of fear were Copplestone hunted by dogs to pass this way. -Hold! Hark!’ she almost screamed. - -The wind was behind them; they heard a call, then the tramp of horses’ -feet. - -Barbara even was for the moment startled, and drew the gig aside, off -the road upon the common. A black cloud had rolled over the sickle of -the moon, and obscured its feeble light. Eve could neither move nor -speak. She quaked at Barbara’s side like an aspen. - -In another moment dark figures of men and horses were visible, -advancing at full gallop along the road. The dull cob the sisters were -driving plunged, backed, and was filled with panic. Then the moon shone -out, and a faint, ghastly light fell on the road, and they could see -the black figures sweeping along. There were two horses, one some way -ahead of the other, and two riders, the first with slouched hat. But -what was that crouched on the crupper, clinging to the first rider? - -As he swept past, Eve distinguished the imp-like form of a boy. That -wholly unnerved her. She uttered a piercing shriek, and clasped her -hands over her eyes. - -The first horse had passed, the second was abreast of the girls when -that cry rang out. The horse plunged, and in a moment horse and rider -crashed down, and appeared to dissolve into the ground. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -EVE’S RING. - - -SOME moments elapsed before Barbara recovered her surprise, then she -spoke a word of encouragement to Eve, who was in an ecstasy of terror, -and tried to disengage herself from her arms, and master the frightened -horse sufficiently to allow her to descend. A thorn tree tortured -by the winds stood solitary at a little distance, at a mound which -indicated the presence of a former embankment. Barbara brought the cob -and gig to it, there descended, and fastened the horse to the tree. -Then she helped her sister out of the vehicle. - -‘Do not be alarmed, Eve. There is nothing here supernatural to dismay -you, only a pair of farmers who have been drinking, and one has tumbled -off his horse. We must see that he has not broken his neck.’ But Eve -clung to her in frantic terror, and would not allow her to disengage -herself. In the meantime, by the sickle moon, now sailing clear of the -clouds, they could see that the first rider had reined in his horse and -turned. - -‘Jasper!’ he called, ‘what is the matter?’ - -No answer came. He rode back to the spot where the second horse had -fallen, and dismounted. - -‘What has happened?’ screamed the boy. ‘I must get down also.’ - -The man who had dismounted pointed to the white stone and said, ‘Hold -the horse and stay there till you are wanted. I must see what cursed -mischance has befallen Jasper.’ - -Eve was somewhat reassured at the sound of human voices, and she -allowed Barbara to release herself, and advance into the road. - -‘Who are you?’ asked the horseman. - -‘Only a girl. Can I help? Is the man hurt?’ - -‘Hurt, of course. He hasn’t fallen into a feather bed, or—by good -luck—into a furze brake.’ - -The horse that had fallen struggled to rise. - -‘Out of the way,’ said the man, ‘I must see that the brute does not -trample on him.’ He helped the horse to his feet; the animal was much -shaken and trembled. - -‘Hold the bridle, girl.’ Barbara obeyed. Then the man went to his -fallen comrade and spoke to him, but received no answer. He raised his -arms, and tried if any bones were broken, then he put his hand to the -heart. ‘Give the boy the bridle, and come here, you girl. Help me to -loosen his neck-cloth. Is there water near?’ - -‘None; we are at the highest point of the moor.’ - -‘Damn it! There is water everywhere in over-abundance in this country, -except where it is wanted.’ - -‘He is alive,’ said Barbara, kneeling and raising the head of the -prostrate, insensible man. ‘He is stunned, but he breathes.’ - -‘Jasper!’ shouted the man who was unhurt, ‘for God’s sake, wake up. You -know I can’t remain here all night.’ - -No response. - -‘This is desperate. I must press forward. Fatalities always occur when -most inconvenient. I was born to ill-luck. No help, no refuge near.’ - -‘I am by as help; my home not far distant,’ said Barbara, ‘for a -refuge.’ - -‘O yes—_you_! What sort of help is that? Your house! I can’t diverge -five miles out of my road for that.’ - -‘We live not half an hour from this point.’ - -‘O yes—half an hour multiplied by ten. You women don’t know how to -calculate distances, or give a decent direction.’ - -‘The blood is flowing from his head,’ said Barbara: ‘it is cut. He has -fallen on a stone.’ - -‘What the devil is to be done? I cannot stay.’ - -‘Sir,’ said Barbara, ‘of course you stay by your comrade. Do you think -to leave him half dead at night to the custody of two girls, strangers, -on a moor?’ - -‘You don’t understand,’ answered the man; ‘I cannot and I will not -stay.’ He put his hand to his head. ‘How far to your home?’ - -‘I have told you, half-an-hour.’ - -‘Honour bright—no more?’ - -‘I said, half-an-hour.’ - -‘Good God, Watt! always a fool?’ He turned sharply towards the lad who -was seated on the stone. The boy had unslung a violin from his back, -taken it from its case, had placed it under his chin, and drawn the bow -across the strings. - -‘Have done, Watt! Let go the horses, have you? What a fate it is for a -man to be cumbered with helpless, useless companions.’ - -‘Jasper’s horse is lame,’ answered the boy, ‘so I have tied the two -together, the sound and the cripple, and neither can get away.’ - -‘Like me with Jasper. Damnation—but I must go! I dare not stay.’ - -The boy swung his bow in the moonlight, and above the raging of the -wind rang out the squeal of the instrument. Eve looked at him, scared. -He seemed some goblin perched on the stone, trying with his magic -fiddle to work a spell on all who heard its tones. The boy satisfied -himself that his violin was in order, and then put it once more in its -case, and cast it over his back. - -‘How is Jasper?’ he shouted; but the man gave him no answer. - -‘Half-an-hour! Half an eternity to me,’ growled the man. ‘However, one -is doomed to sacrifice self for others. I will take him to your house -and leave him there. Who live at your house? Are there many men there?’ - -‘There is only old Christopher Davy at the lodge, but he is ill with -rheumatics. My father is away.’ Barbara regretted having said this the -moment the words escaped her. - -The stranger looked about him uneasily, then up at the moon. ‘I can’t -spare more than half-an-hour.’ - -Then Barbara said undauntedly, ‘No man, under any circumstances, can -desert a fellow in distress, leaving him, perhaps, to die. You must -lift him into our gig, and we will convey him to Morwell. Then go your -way if you will. My sister and I will take charge of him, and do our -best for him till you can return.’ - -‘Return!’ muttered the man scornfully. ‘Christian cast his burden -before the cross. He didn’t return to pick it up again.’ - -Barbara waxed wroth. - -‘If the accident had happened to you, would your friend have excused -himself and deserted you?’ - -‘Oh!’ exclaimed the man carelessly, ‘of course _he_ would not.’ - -‘Yet you are eager to leave him.’ - -‘You do not understand. The cases are widely different.’ He went to the -horses. ‘Halloo!’ he exclaimed as he now noticed Eve. ‘Another girl -springing out of the turf! Am I among pixies? Turn your face more to -the light. On my oath, and I am a judge, you are a beauty!’ Then he -tried the horse that had fallen; it halted. ‘The brute is fit for dogs’ -meat only,’ he said. ‘Let the fox-hounds eat him. Is that your gig? We -can never lift my brother——’ - -‘Is he your brother?’ - -‘We can never pull him up into that conveyance. No, we must get him -astride my horse; you hold him on one side, I on the other, and so we -shall get on. Come here, Watt, and lend a hand; you help also, Beauty, -and see what you can do.’ - -With difficulty the insensible man was raised into the saddle. He -seemed to gather some slight consciousness when mounted, for he -muttered something about pushing on. - -‘You go round on the further side of the horse,’ said the man -imperiously to Barbara. ‘You seem strong in the arm, possibly stronger -than I am. Beauty! lead the horse.’ - -‘The boy can do that,’ said Barbara. - -‘He don’t know the way,’ answered the man. ‘Let him come on with your -old rattletrap. Upon my word, if Beauty were to throw a bridle over my -head, I would be content to follow her through the world.’ - -Thus they went on; the violence, of the gale had somewhat abated, but -it produced a roar among the heather and gorse of the moor like that -of the sea. Eve, as commanded, went before, holding the bridle. Her -movements were easy, her form was graceful. She tripped lightly along -with elastic step, unlike the firm tread of her sister. But then Eve -was only leading, and Barbara was sustaining. - -For some distance no one spoke. It was not easy to speak so as to be -heard, without raising the voice; and now the way led towards the oaks -and beeches and pines about Morwell, and the roar among the branches -was fiercer, louder than that among the bushes of furze. - -Presently the man cried imperiously ‘Halt!’ and stepping forward caught -the bit and roughly arrested the horse. ‘I am certain we are followed.’ - -‘What if we are?’ asked Barbara. - -‘What if we are!’ echoed the man. ‘Why, everything to me.’ He put his -hands against the injured man; Barbara was sure he meant to thrust him -out of the saddle, leap into it himself, and make off. She said, ‘We -are followed by the boy with our gig.’ - -Then he laughed. ‘Ah! I forgot that. When a man has money about him and -no firearms, he is nervous in such a blast-blown desert as this, where -girls who may be decoys pop out of every furze bush.’ - -‘Lead on, Eve,’ said Barbara, affronted at his insolence. She was -unable to resist the impulse to say, across the horse, ‘You are not -ashamed to let two girls see that you are a coward.’ - -The man struck his arm across the crupper of the horse, caught her -bonnet-string and tore it away. - -‘I will beat your brains out against the saddle if you insult me.’ - -‘A coward is always cruel,’ answered Barbara; as she said this she -stood off, lest he should strike again, but he took no notice of her -last words, perhaps had not caught them. She said no more, deeming it -unwise to provoke such a man. - -Presently, turning his head, he asked, ‘Did you call that girl—Eve?’ - -‘Yes; she is my sister.’ - -‘That is odd,’ remarked the man. ‘Eve! Eve!’ - -‘Did you call me?’ asked the young girl who was leading. - -‘I was repeating your name, sweet as your face.’ - -‘Go on, Eve,’ said Barbara. - -The path descended, and became rough with stones. - -‘He is moving,’ said Barbara. ‘He said something.’ - -‘Martin!’ spoke the injured man. - -‘I am at your side, Jasper.’ - -‘I am hurt—where am I?’ - -‘I cannot tell you; heaven knows. In some God-forgotten waste.’ - -‘Do not leave me!’ - -‘Never, Jasper.’ - -‘You promise me?’ - -‘With all my heart.’ - -‘I must trust you, Martin,—trust you.’ - -Then he said no more, and sank back into half-consciousness. - -‘How much farther?’ asked the man who walked. ‘I call this a cursed -long half-hour. To women time is nought; but every moment to me is of -consequence. I must push on.’ - -‘You have just promised not to desert your friend, your brother.’ - -‘It pacified him, and sent him to sleep again.’ - -‘It was a promise.’ - -‘You promise a child the moon when it cries, but it never gets it. How -much farther?’ - -‘We are at Morwell.’ - -They issued from the lane, and were before the old gatehouse of -Morwell; a light shone through the window over the entrance door. - -‘Old Davy is up there, ill. He cannot come down. The gate is open; we -will go in,’ said Barbara. - -‘I am glad we are here,’ said the man called Martin; ‘now we must -bestir ourselves.’ - -Thoughtlessly he struck the horse with his whip, and the beast started, -nearly precipitating the rider to the ground. The man on it groaned. -The injured man was lifted down. - -‘Eve!’ said Barbara, ‘run in and tell Jane to come out, and see that a -bed be got ready at once, in the lower room.’ - -Presently out came a buxom womanservant, and with her assistance the -man was taken off the horse and carried indoors. - -A bedroom was on the ground-floor opening out of the hall. Into this -Eve led the way with a light, and the patient was laid on a bed hastily -made ready for his reception. His coat was removed, and Barbara -examined the head. - -‘Here is a gash to the bone,’ she said, ‘and much blood is flowing from -it. Jane, come with me, and we will get what is necessary.’ - -Martin was left alone in the room with Eve and the man called -Jasper. Martin moved, so that the light fell over her; and he stood -contemplating her with wonder and admiration. She was marvellously -beautiful, slender, not tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her hair was -of the richest auburn, full of gloss and warmth. She had the exquisite -complexion that so often accompanies hair of this colour. Her eyes were -large and blue. The pure oval face was set on a delicate neck, round -which hung a kerchief, which she now untied and cast aside. - -‘How lovely you are!’ said Martin. A rich blush overspread her cheek -and throat, and tinged her little ears. Her eyes fell. His look was -bold. - -Then, almost unconscious of what he was doing, as an act of homage, -Martin removed his slouched hat, and for the first time Eve saw what -he was like, when she timidly raised her eyes. With surprise she saw -a young face. The man with the imperious manner was not much above -twenty, and was remarkably handsome. He had dark hair, a pale skin, -very large, soft dark eyes, velvety, enclosed within dark lashes. His -nose was regular, the nostrils delicately arched and chiselled. His lip -was fringed with a young moustache. There was a remarkable refinement -and tenderness in the face. Eve could hardly withdraw her wondering -eyes from him. Such a face she had never seen, never even dreamed of as -possible. Here was a type of masculine beauty that transcended all her -imaginings. She had met very few young men, and those she did meet were -somewhat uncouth, addicted to the stable and the kennel, and redolent -of both, more at home following the hounds or shooting than associating -with ladies. There was so much of innocent admiration in the gaze of -simple Eve that Martin was flattered, and smiled. - -‘Beauty!’ he said, ‘who would have dreamed to have stumbled on the -likes of you on the moor? Nay, rather let me bless my stars that I -have been vouchsafed the privilege of meeting and speaking with a real -fairy. It is said that you must never encounter a fairy without taking -of her a reminiscence, to be a charm through life.’ - -Suddenly he put his hand to her throat. She had a delicate blue riband -about it, disclosed when she cast aside her kerchief. He put his finger -between the riband and her throat, and pulled. - -‘You are strangling me!’ exclaimed Eve, shrinking away, alarmed at his -boldness. - -‘I care not,’ he replied, ‘this I will have.’ - -He wrenched at and broke the riband, and then drew it from her neck. As -he did so a gold ring fell on the floor. He stooped, picked it up, and -put it on his little finger. - -‘Look,’ said he with a laugh, ‘my hand is so small, my fingers so -slim—I can wear this ring.’ - -‘Give it me back! Let me have it! You must not take it!’ Eve was -greatly agitated and alarmed. ‘I may not part with it. It was my -mother’s.’ - -Then, with the same daring insolence with which he had taken the ring, -he caught the girl to him, and kissed her. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE LIMPING HORSE. - - -EVE drew herself away with a cry of anger and alarm, and with sparkling -eyes and flushed cheeks. At that moment her sister returned with Jane, -and immediately Martin reassumed his hat with broad brim. Barbara did -not notice the excitement of Eve; she had not observed the incident, -because she entered a moment too late to do so, and no suspicion that -the stranger would presume to take such a liberty crossed her mind. - -Eve stood back behind the door, with hands on her bosom to control its -furious beating, and with head depressed to conceal the heightened -colour. - -Barbara and the maid stooped over the unconscious man, and whilst -Martin held a light, they dressed and bandaged his head. - -Presently his eyes opened, a flicker of intelligence passed through -them, they rested on Martin; a smile for a moment kindled the face, and -the lips moved. - -‘He wants to speak to you,’ said Barbara, noticing the direction of the -eyes, and the expression that came into them. - -‘What do you want, Jasper?’ asked Martin, putting his hand on that of -the other. - -The candlelight fell on the two hands, and Barbara noticed the -contrast. That of Martin was delicate as the hand of a woman, narrow, -with taper fingers, and white; that of Jasper was strong, darkened by -exposure. - -‘Will you be so good as to undress him,’ said Barbara, ‘and put him to -bed? My sister will assist me in the kitchen. Jane, if you desire help, -is at your service.’ - -‘Yes, go,’ said Martin, ‘but return speedily, as I cannot stay many -minutes.’ - -Then the girls left the room. - -‘I do not want you,’ he said roughly to the serving woman. ‘Take -yourself off; when I need you I will call. No prying at the door.’ He -went after her, thrust Jane forth and shut the door behind her. Then -he returned to Jasper, removed his clothes, somewhat ungently, with -hasty hands. When his waistcoat was off, Martin felt in the inner -breast-pocket, and drew from it a pocket-book. He opened it, and -transferred the contents to his own purse, then replaced the book and -proceeded with the undressing. - -When Jasper was divested of his clothes, and laid at his ease in the -bed, his head propped on pillows, Martin went to the door and called -the girls. He was greatly agitated, Barbara observed it. His lower lip -trembled. Eve hung back in the kitchen, she could not return. - -Martin said in eager tones, ‘I have done for him all I can, now I am in -haste to be off.’ - -‘But,’ remonstrated Barbara, ‘he is your brother.’ - -‘My brother!’ laughed Martin. ‘He is no relation of mine. He is naught -to me and I am naught to him.’ - -‘You called him your brother.’ - -‘That was tantamount to comrade. All sons of Adam are brothers, at -least in misfortune. I do not even know the fellow’s name.’ - -‘Why,’ said Barbara, ‘this is very strange. You call him Jasper, and he -named you Martin.’ - -‘Ah!’ said the man hesitatingly, ‘we are chance travellers, riding -along the same road. He asked my name and I gave it him—my surname. I -am a Mr. Martin—he mistook me; and in exchange he gave me his Christian -name. That is how I knew it. If anyone asks about this event, you can -say that Mr. Martin passed this way and halted awhile at your house, on -his road to Tavistock. - -‘You are going to Tavistock?’ - -‘Yes, that is my destination.’ - -‘In that case I will not seek to detain you. Call up Doctor Crooke and -send him here.’ - -‘I will do so. You furnish me with an additional motive for haste to -depart.’ - -‘Go,’ said Barbara. ‘God grant the poor man may not die.’ - -‘Die! pshaw! die!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Men aren’t such brittle ware as -that pretty sister of yours. A fall from a horse don’t kill a man. If -it did, fox-hunting would not be such a popular sport. To-morrow, or -the day after, Mr. Jasper What’s-his-name will be on his feet again. -Hush! What do I hear?’ - -His cheek turned pale, but Barbara did not see it; he kept his face -studiously away from the light. - -‘Your horse which you hitched up outside neighed, that is all.’ - -‘That is a great deal. It would not neigh at nothing.’ - -He went out. Barbara told the maid to stay by the sick man, and went -after Martin. She thought that in all probability the boy had arrived -driving the gig. - -Martin stood irresolute in the doorway. The horse that had borne the -injured man had been brought into the courtyard, and hitched up at the -hall door. Martin looked across the quadrangle. The moon was shining -into it. A yellow glimmer came from the sick porter’s window over the -great gate. The large gate was arched, a laden waggon might pass under -it. It was unprovided with doors. Through it the moonlight could be -seen on the paved ground in front of the old lodge. - -A sound of horse-hoofs was audible approaching slowly, uncertainly, on -the stony ground; but no wheels. - -‘What can the boy have done with our gig?’ asked Barbara. - -‘Will you be quiet?’ exclaimed Martin angrily. - -‘I protest—you are trembling,’ she said. - -‘May not a man shiver when he is cold?’ answered the man. - -She saw him shrink back into the shadow of the entrance as something -appeared in the moonlight outside the gatehouse, indistinctly seen, -moving strangely. - -Again the horse neighed. - -They saw the figure come on haltingly out of the light into the -blackness of the shadow of the gate, pass through, and emerge into the -moonlight of the court. - -Then both saw that the lame horse that had been deserted on the moor -had followed, limping and slowly, as it was in pain, after the other -horse. Barbara went at once to the poor beast, saying, ‘I will put you -in a stall,’ but in another moment she returned with a bundle in her -hand. - -‘What have you there?’ asked Martin, who was mounting his horse, -pointing with his whip to what she carried. - -‘I found this strapped to the saddle.’ - -‘Give it to me.’ - -‘It does not belong to you. It belongs to the other—to Jasper.’ - -‘Let me look through the bundle; perhaps by that means we may discover -his name.’ - -‘I will examine it when you are gone. I will not detain you; ride on -for the doctor.’ - -‘I insist on having that bundle,’ said Martin. ‘Give it me, or I will -strike you.’ He raised his whip. - -‘Only a coward would strike a woman. I will not give you the bundle. It -is not yours. As you said, this man Jasper is naught to you, nor you to -him.’ - -‘I will have it,’ he said with a curse, and stooped from the saddle to -wrench it from her hands. Barbara was too quick for him; she stepped -back into the doorway and slammed the door upon him, and bolted it. - -He uttered an ugly oath, then turned and rode through the courtyard. -‘After all,’ he said, ‘what does it matter? We were fools not to be rid -of it before.’ - -As he passed out of the gatehouse, he saw Eve in the moonlight, -approaching timidly. - -‘You must give me back my ring!’ she pleaded; ‘you have no right to -keep it.’ - -‘Must I, Beauty? Where is the compulsion?’ - -‘Indeed, indeed you must.’ - -‘Then I will—but not now; at some day in the future, when we meet -again.’ - -‘O give it me now! It belonged to my mother, and she is dead.’ - -‘Come! What will you give me for it? Another kiss?’ - -Then from close by burst a peal of impish laughter, and the boy bounded -out of the shadow of a yew tree into the moonlight. - -‘Halloo, Martin! always hanging over a pretty face, detained by it when -you should be galloping. I’ve upset the gig and broken it; give me my -place again on the crupper.’ - -He ran, leaped, and in an instant was behind Martin. The horse bounded -away, and Eve heard the clatter of the hoofs as it galloped up the lane -to the moor. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES. - - -BARBARA JORDAN sat by the sick man with her knitting on her lap, and -her eyes fixed on his face. He was asleep, and the sun would have shone -full on him had she not drawn a red curtain across the window, which -subdued the light, and diffused a warm glow over the bed. He was -breathing calmly; danger was over. - -On the morning after the eventful night, Mr. Jordan had returned to -Morwell, and had been told what had happened—at least, the major -part—and had seen the sick man. He, Jasper, was then still unconscious. -The doctor from Tavistock had not arrived. The family awaited him -all day, and Barbara at last suspected that Martin had not taken -the trouble to deliver her message. She did not like to send again, -expecting him hourly. Then a doubt rose in her mind whether Doctor -Crooke might not have refused to come. Her father had made some -slighting remarks about him in company lately. It was possible that -these had been repeated and the doctor had taken umbrage. - -The day passed, and as he did not arrive, and as the sick man remained -unconscious, on the second morning Barbara sent a foot messenger to -Beer Alston, where was a certain Mr. James Coyshe, surgeon, a young -man, reputed to be able, not long settled there. The gig was broken, -and the cob in trying to escape from the upset vehicle had cut himself -about the legs, and was unfit for a journey. The Jordans had but one -carriage horse. The gig lay wrecked in the lane; the boy had driven -it against a gate-post of granite, and smashed the axle and the -splashboard and a wheel. - -Coyshe arrived; he was a tall young man, with hair cut very short, very -large light whiskers, prominent eyes, and big protruding ears. - -‘He is suffering from congestion of the brain,’ said the surgeon; ‘if -he does not awake to-morrow, order his grave to be dug.’ - -‘Can you do nothing for him?’ asked Miss Jordan. - -‘Nothing better than leave him in your hands,’ said Coyshe with a bow. - -This was all that had passed between Barbara and the doctor. Now the -third day was gone, and the man’s brain had recovered from the pressure -on it. - -As Barbara knitted, she stole many a glance at Jasper’s face; -presently, finding that she had dropped stitches and made false -counts, she laid her knitting in her lap, and watched the sleeper with -undivided attention and with a face full of perplexity, as though -trying to read the answer to a question which puzzled her, and not -finding the answer where she sought it, or finding it different from -what she anticipated. - -In appearance Barbara was very different from her sister. Her face -was round, her complexion olive, her eyes very dark. She was strongly -built, without grace of form, a sound, hearty girl, hale to her heart’s -core. She was not beautiful, her features were without chiselling, but -her abundant hair, her dark eyes, and the sensible, honest expression -of her face redeemed it from plainness. She had practical common sense; -Eve had beauty. Barbara was content with the distribution; perfectly -satisfied to believe herself destitute of personal charms, and ready to -excuse every act of thoughtlessness committed by her sister. Barbara -rose from her seat, laid aside the knitting, and went to a carved oak -box that stood against the wall, ornamented with the figure of a man -in trunk hose, with a pair of eagles’ heads in the place of a human -face. She raised the lid and looked in. There lay, neatly folded, the -contents of Jasper’s bundle, a coarse grey and yellow suit—a suit -so peculiar in cut and colour that there was no mistaking whence it -had come, and what he was who had worn it. Barbara shut the chest -and returned to her place, and her look was troubled. Her eyes were -again fixed on the sleeper. His face was noble. It was pale from loss -of blood. The hair was black, the eyes were closed, but the lashes -were long and dark. His nose was aquiline without being over-strongly -characterised, his lips were thin and well moulded. The face, even in -sleep, bore an expression of gravity, dignity, and integrity. Barbara -found it hard to associate such a face with crime, and yet how else -could she account for that convict garb she had found rolled up and -strapped to his saddle, and which she had laid in the trunk? - -Prisoners escaped now and again from the great jail on Dartmoor. This -was one of them. As she sat watching him, puzzling her mind over this, -his eyes opened, and he smiled. The smile was remarkably sweet. His -eyes were large, dark and soft, and from being sunken through sickness, -appeared to fill his face. Barbara rose hastily, and, going to the -fireplace, brought from it some beef-tea that had been warming at the -small fire. She put it to his lips; he thanked her, sighed, and lay -back. She said not a word, but resumed her knitting. - -From this moment their positions were reversed. It was now she who was -watched by him. When she looked up, she encountered his dark eyes. She -coloured a little, and impatiently turned her chair on one side, so as -to conceal her face. A couple of minutes after, sensible in every nerve -that she was being observed, unable to keep her eyes away, spell-drawn, -she glanced at him again. He was still watching her. Then she moved to -her former position, bit her lip, frowned, and said, ‘Are you in want -of anything?’ - -He shook his head. - -‘You are sufficiently yourself to remain alone for a few minutes,’ -she said, stood up, and left the room. She had the management of the -house, and, indeed, of the farm on her hands; her usual assistant in -setting the labourers their work, old Christopher Davy, was ill with -rheumatism. This affair had happened at an untoward moment, but is it -not always so? A full hour had elapsed before Miss Jordan returned. -Then she saw that the convalescent’s eyes were closed. He was probably -again asleep, and sleep was the best thing for him. She reseated -herself by his bedside, and resumed her knitting. A moment after she -was again aware that his eyes were on her. She had herself watched him -so intently whilst he was asleep that a smile came involuntarily to -her lips. She was being repaid in her own coin. The smile encouraged -him to speak. - -‘How long have I been here?’ - -‘Four days.’ - -‘Have I been very ill?’ - -‘Yes, insensible, sometimes rambling.’ - -‘What made me ill? What ails my head?’ He put his hand to the bandages. - -‘You have had a fall from your horse.’ - -He did not speak for a moment or two. His thoughts moved slowly. After -a while he asked, ‘Where did I fall?’ - -‘On the moor—Morwell Down.’ - -‘I can remember nothing. When was it?’ - -‘Four days ago.’ - -‘Yes—you have told me so. I forgot. My head is not clear, there is -singing and spinning in it. To-day is——?’ - -‘To-day is Monday.’ - -‘What day was that—four days ago?’ - -‘Thursday.’ - -‘Yes, Thursday. I cannot think to reckon backwards. Monday, Tuesday, -Wednesday. I can go on, but not backward. It pains me. I can recall -Thursday.’ He sighed and turned his head to the wall. ‘Thursday -night—yes. I remember no more.’ - -After a while he turned his head round to Barbara and asked, ‘Where am -I now?’ - -‘At Morwell House.’ - -He asked no more questions for a quarter of an hour. He was taking in -and turning over the information he had received. He lay on his back -and closed his eyes. His face was very pale, like marble, but not like -marble in this, that across it travelled changes of expression that -stirred the muscles. Do what she would Barbara could not keep her eyes -off him. The horrible mystery about the man, the lie given to her -thoughts of him by his face, forced her to observe him. - -Presently he opened his eyes, and met hers; she recoiled as if smitten -with a guilty feeling at her heart. - -‘You have always been with me whilst I was unconscious and rambling,’ -he said earnestly. - -‘I have been a great deal with you, but not always. The maid, Jane, and -an old woman who comes in occasionally to char, have shared with me the -task. You have not been neglected.’ - -‘I know well when you have been by me—and when you have been away. -Sometimes I have felt as if I lay on a bank with wild thyme under me——’ - -‘That is because we put thyme with our linen,’ said the practical -Barbara. - -He did not notice the explanation, but went on, ‘And the sun shone on -my face, but a pleasant air fanned me. At other times all was dark and -hot and miserable.’ - -‘That was according to the stages of your illness.’ - -‘No, I think I was content when you were in the room, and distressed -when you were away. Some persons exert a mesmeric power of soothing.’ - -‘Sick men get strange fancies,’ said Barbara. - -He rose on his elbow, and held out his hand. - -‘I know that I owe my life to you, young lady. Allow me to thank you. -My life is of no value to any but myself. I have not hitherto regarded -it much. Now I shall esteem it, as saved by you. I thank you. May I -touch your hand?’ - -He took her fingers and put them to his lips. - -‘This hand is firm and strong,’ he said, ‘but gentle as the wing of a -dove.’ - -She coldly withdrew her fingers. - -‘Enough of thanks,’ she said bluntly. ‘I did but my duty.’ - -‘Was there——’ he hesitated—’anyone with me when I was found, or was I -alone?’ - -‘There were two—a man and a boy.’ - -His face became troubled. He began a question, then let it die in his -mouth, began another, but could not bring it to an end. - -‘And they—where are they?’ he asked at length. - -‘That one called Martin brought you here.’ - -‘He did!’ exclaimed Jasper, eagerly. - -‘That is—he assisted in bringing you here.’ Barbara was so precise and -scrupulous about truth, that she felt herself obliged to modify her -first assertion. ‘Then, when he saw you safe in our hands, he left you.’ - -‘Did he—did he say anything about me?’ - -‘Once—but that I suppose was by a slip, he called you brother. -Afterwards he asserted that you were nothing to him, nor he to you.’ - -Jasper’s face was moved with painful emotions, but it soon cleared, and -he said, ‘Yes, I am nothing to him—nothing. He is gone. He did well. I -was, as he said—and he spoke the truth—nothing to him.’ - -Then, hastily, to turn the subject, ‘Excuse me. Where am I now? And, -young lady, if you will not think it rude of me to inquire, who are you -to whom I owe my poor life?’ - -‘This, as I have already said, is Morwell, and I am the daughter of the -gentleman who resides in it, Mr. Ignatius Jordan.’ - -He fell back on the bed, a deadly greyness came over his face, he -raised his hands: ‘My God! my God! this is most wonderful. Thy ways are -past finding out.’ - -‘What is wonderful?’ asked Barbara. - -He did not answer, but partially raised himself again in bed. - -‘Where are my clothes?’ he asked. - -‘Which clothes?’ inquired Barbara, and her voice was hard, and her -expression became stern. She hesitated for a moment, then went to the -chest and drew forth the suit that had been rolled up on the pommel of -the saddle; also that which he had worn when he met with the accident. -She held one in each hand, and returned to the bed. - -‘Which?’ she asked gravely, fixing her eyes on him. - -He looked from one to the other, and his pale face turned a chalky -white. Then he said in a low tremulous tone, ‘I want my waistcoat.’ - -She gave it him. He felt eagerly about it, drew the pocket-book from -the breast-pocket, opened it and fell back. - -‘Gone!’ he moaned, ‘gone!’ - -The garment dropped from his fingers upon the floor, his eyes became -glassy and fixed, and scarlet spots of colour formed in his cheeks. - -After this he became feverish, and tossed in his bed, put his hand -to his brow, plucked at the bandages, asked for water, and his pulse -quickened. - -Towards evening he seemed conscious that his senses were slipping -beyond control. He called repeatedly for the young lady, and Jane, who -attended him then, was obliged to fetch Barbara. - -The sun was setting when she came into the room. She despatched Jane -about some task that had to be done, and, coming to the side of the -bed, said in a constrained voice, ‘Yes, what do you require? I am here.’ - -He lifted himself. His eyes were glowing with fever; he put out his -hand and clasped her wrist; his hand was burning. His lips quivered; -his face was full of a fiery eagerness. - -‘I entreat you! you are so good, so kind! You have surprised a secret. -I beseech you let no one else into it—no one have a suspicion of it. -I am hot. I am in a fever. I am afraid what I may say when others -are by me. I would go on my knees to you could I rise. I pray you, I -pray you——’ he put his hands together, ‘do not leave me if I become -delirious. It is a hard thing to ask. I have no claim on you; but I -fear. I would have none but you know what I say, and I may say strange -things if my mind becomes deranged with fever. You feel my hand, is it -not like a red-hot-coal? You know that I am likely to wander. Stay by -me—in pity—in mercy—for the love of God—for the love of God!’ - -His hand, a fiery hand, grasped her wrist convulsively. She stood by -his bed, greatly moved, much stung with self-reproach. It was cruel of -her to act as she had done, to show him that convict suit, and let him -see that she knew his vileness. It was heartless, wicked of her, when -the poor fellow was just returned to consciousness, to cast him back -into his misery and shame by the sight of that degrading garment. - -Spots of colour came into her cheeks almost as deep as those which -burnt in the sick man’s face. - -‘I should have considered he was ill, that he was under my charge,’ -she said, and laid her left hand on his to intimate that she sought to -disengage her wrist from his grasp. - -At the touch his eyes, less wild, looked pleadingly at her. - -‘Yes, Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘I——’ - -‘Why do you call me Mr. Jasper?’ - -‘That other man gave you the name.’ - -‘Yes, my name is Jasper. And yours?’ - -‘Barbara. I am Miss Barbara Jordan.’ - -‘Will you promise what I asked?’ - -‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I will stay by you all night, and whatever passes -your lips shall never pass mine.’ - -He smiled, and gave a sigh of relief. - -‘How good you are! How good! Barbara Jordan.’ - -He did not call her Miss, and she felt slightly piqued. He, a convict, -to speak of her thus! But she pacified her wounded pride with the -consideration that his mind was disturbed by fever. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A NIGHT-WATCH. - - -BARBARA had passed her word to remain all night with the sick man, -should he prove delirious; she was scrupulously conscientious, and -in spite of her father’s remonstrance and assurance that old Betty -Westlake could look after the fellow well enough, she remained in the -sick room after the rest had gone to bed. - -That Jasper was fevered was indubitable; he was hot and restless, -tossing his head from side to side on the pillow, and it was not safe -to leave him, lest he should disarrange his bandage, lest, in an access -of fever, he should leap from his bed and do himself an injury. - -After everyone had retired the house became very still. Barbara poked -and made up the fire. It must not become too large, as the nights were -not cold, and it must not be allowed to go out. - -Jasper did not speak, but he opened his eyes occasionally, and looked -at his nurse with a strange light in his eyes that alarmed her. What -if he were to become frantic? What—worse—were he to die? He was only -half conscious, he did not seem to know who she was. His lips twitched -and moved, but no voice came. Then he clasped both hands over his brow, -and moaned, and plucked at the bandages. ‘You must not do that,’ said -Barbara Jordan, rising from her chair and going beside him. He glared -at her from his burning eyes without intelligence. Then she laid her -cool hand on his strapped brow, and he let his arms fall, and lay -still, and the twitching of his mouth ceased. The pressure of her hand -eased, soothed him. Directly she withdrew her hand he began to murmur -and move, and cry out, ‘O Martin! Martin!’ - -Then he put forth his hand and opened it wide, and closed it again, in -a wild, restless, unmeaning manner. Next he waved it excitedly, as if -in vehement conversation or earnest protest. Barbara spoke to him, but -he did not hear her. She urged him to lie quiet and not excite himself, -but her words, if they entered his ear, conveyed no message to the -brain. He snatched at his bandage. - -‘You shall not do that,’ she said, and caught his hand, and held it -down firmly on the coverlet. Then, at once, he was quiet. He continued -turning his head on the pillow, but he did not stir his arm. When she -attempted to withdraw her hand he would not suffer her. Once, when -almost by main force, she plucked her hand away, he became excited and -tried to rise in his bed. In terror, to pacify him, she gave him her -hand again. She moved her chair close to the bed, where she could sit -facing him, and let him hold her left hand with his left. He was quiet -at once. It seemed to her that her cool, calmly flowing blood poured -its healing influence through her hand up his arm to his tossing, -troubled head. Thus she was obliged to sit all night, hand in hand -with the man she was constrained to pity, but whom, for his guilt, she -loathed. - -He became cooler, his pulse beat less fiercely, his hand was less -burning and dry. She saw him pass from vexing dreams into placid sleep. -She was unable to knit, to do any work all night. She could do nothing -other than sit, hour after hour, with her eyes on his face, trying to -unravel the riddle, to reconcile that noble countenance with an evil -life. And when she could not solve it, she closed her eyes and prayed, -and her prayer was concerned, like her thoughts, with the man who lay -in fever and pain, and who clasped her so resolutely. Towards dawn his -eyes opened, and there was no more vacancy and fire in them. Then she -went to the little casement and opened it. The fresh, sweet air of -early morning rushed in, and with the air came the song of awakening -thrushes, the spiral twitter of the lark. One fading star was still -shining in a sky that was laying aside its sables. - -She went back to the bedside and said gently, ‘You are better.’ - -‘Thank you,’ he answered. ‘I have given you much trouble.’ - -She shook her head, she did not speak. Something rose in her throat. -She had extinguished the lamp. In the grey dawn the face on the bed -looked death-like, and a gush of tenderness, of pity for the patient, -filled Barbara’s heart. She brought a basin and a sponge, and, leaning -over him, washed his face. He thanked her with his sweet smile, a -smile that told of pain. It affected Barbara strangely. She drew a -long breath. She could not speak. If she had attempted to do so she -would have sobbed; for she was tired with her continued watching. To -be a nurse to the weak, whether to a babe or a wounded man, brings out -all the sweet springs in a woman’s soul; and poor Barbara, against -her judgment, felt that every gentle vein in her heart was oozing -with pity, love, solicitude, mercy, faith and hope. What eyes that -Jasper had! so gentle, soft, and truthful. Could treachery, cruelty, -dishonesty lurk beneath them? - -A question trembled on Barbara’s lips. She longed to ask him something -about himself, to know the truth, to have that horrible enigma solved. -She leaned her hand on the back of the chair, and put the other to her -lips. - -‘What is it?’ he asked suddenly. - -She started. He had read her thoughts. Her eyes met his, and, as they -met, her eyes answered and said, ‘Yes, there is a certain matter. I -cannot rest till I know.’ - -‘I am sure,’ he said, ‘there is something you wish to say, but are -afraid lest you should excite me.’ - -She was silent. - -‘I am better now; the wind blows cool over me, and the morning light -refreshes me. Do not be afraid. Speak.’ - -She hesitated. - -‘Speak,’ he said. ‘I am fully conscious and self-possessed now.’ - -‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘It is right that I should know for certain -what you are.’ She halted. She shrank from the question. He remained -waiting. Then she asked with a trembling voice, ‘Is that convict -garment yours?’ - -He turned away his face sharply. - -She waited for the answer. He did not reply. His breast heaved and his -whole body shook, the very bed quivered with suppressed emotion. - -‘Do not be afraid,’ she said, in measured tones. ‘I will not betray -you. I have nursed you and fed you, and bathed your head. No, never! -never! whatever your crime may have been, will I betray you. No one in -the house suspects. No eyes but mine have seen that garment. Do not -mistrust me; not by word or look will I divulge the secret, but I must -know all.’ - -Still he did not reply. His face was turned away, but she saw the -working of the muscles of his cheek-bone, and the throb of the great -vein in his temple. Barbara felt a flutter of compunction in her heart. -She had again overagitated this unhappy man when he was not in a -condition to bear it. She knew she had acted precipitately, unfairly, -but the suspense had become to her unendurable. - -‘I have done wrong to ask the question,’ she said. - -‘No,’ he answered, and looked at her. His large eyes, sunken and -lustrous with sickness, met hers, and he saw that tears were trembling -on her lids. - -‘No,’ he said, ‘you did right to ask;’ then paused. ‘The garment—the -prison garment is mine.’ - -A catch in Barbara’s breath; she turned her head hastily and walked -towards the door. Near the door stood the oak chest carved with the -eagle-headed man. She stooped, threw it open, caught up the convict -clothes, rolled them together, and ran up into the attic, where she -secreted them in a place none but herself would be likely to look into. - -A moment after she reappeared, composed. - -‘A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,’ said Miss Jordan -gravely. ‘Amongst other news he brought was this, that a convict had -recently broken out from the prison at Prince’s Town on Dartmoor, and -was thought to have escaped off the moor.’ He listened and made no -answer, but sighed heavily. ‘You are safe here,’ she said; ‘your secret -remains here’—she touched her breast. ‘My father, my sister, none of -the maids suspect anything. Never let us allude to this matter again, -and I hope that as soon as you are sufficiently recovered you will go -your way.’ - -The door opened gently and Eve appeared, fresh and lovely as a May -blossom. - -‘Bab, dear sister,’ said the young girl, ‘let me sit by him now. You -must have a nap. You take everything upon you—you are tired. Why, -Barbara, surely you have been crying?’ - -‘I——crying!’ exclaimed the elder angrily. ‘What have I had to make me -cry? No; I am tired, and my eyes burn.’ - -‘Then close them and sleep for a couple of hours.’ - -Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. In the early -morning none of the servants could be spared to sit with the sick man. - -Eve went to the table and arranged a bunch of oxlips, dripping with -dew, in a glass of water. - -‘How sweet they are!’ she said, smiling. ‘Smell them, they will do you -good. These are of the old monks’ planting; they grow in abundance in -the orchard, but nowhere else. The oxlips and the orchis suit together -perfectly. If the oxlip had been a little more yellow and the orchis a -little more purple, they would have made an ill-assorted posy.’ - -Jasper looked at the flowers, then at her. - -‘Are you her sister?’ - -‘What, Barbara’s sister?’ - -‘Yes, her name is Barbara.’ - -‘Of course I am.’ - -He looked at Eve. He could trace in her no likeness to her sister. -Involuntarily he said, ‘You are very beautiful.’ - -She coloured—with pleasure. Twice within a few days the same compliment -had been paid her. - -‘What is your name, young lady?’ - -‘My name is Eve.’ - -‘Eve!’ repeated Jasper. ‘How strange!’ - -Twice also, within a few days, had this remark been passed on her name. - -‘Why should it be strange?’ - -‘Because that was also the name of my mother and of my sister.’ - -‘Is your mother alive?’ - -He shook his head. - -‘And your sister?’ - -‘I do not know. I remember her only faintly, and my father never -speaks of her.’ Then he changed the subject. ‘You are very unlike Miss -Barbara. I should not have supposed you were sisters.’ - -‘We are half-sisters. We had not the same mother.’ - -He was exhausted with speaking, and turned towards the wall. Eve seated -herself in the chair vacated by Barbara. She occupied her fingers with -making a cowslip ball, and when it was made she tossed it. Then, as he -moved, she feared that she disturbed him, so she put the ball on the -table, from which, however, it rolled off. - -Jasper turned as she was groping for it. - -‘Do I trouble you?’ she said. ‘Honour bright, I will sit quiet.’ - -How beautiful she looked with her chestnut hair; how delicate and -pearly was her lovely neck; what sweet eyes were hers, blue as a heaven -full of sunshine! - -‘Have you sat much with me, Miss Eve, whilst I have been ill?’ - -‘Not much; my sister would not suffer me. I am such a fidget that she -thought I might irritate you; such a giddypate that I might forget your -draughts and compresses. Barbara is one of those people who do all -things themselves, and rely on no one else.’ - -‘I must have given Miss Barbara much trouble. How good she has been!’ - -‘Oh, Barbara is good to everyone! She can’t help it. Some people are -born good-tempered and practical, and others are born pretty and -poetical; some to be good needlewomen, others to wear smart clothes.’ - -‘Tell me, Miss Eve, did anyone come near me when I met with my -accident?’ - -‘Your friend Martin and Barbara brought you here.’ - -‘And when I was here who had to do with my clothes?’ - -‘Martin undressed you whilst my sister and I got ready what was -necessary for you.’ - -‘And my clothes—who touched them?’ - -‘After your friend Martin, only Barbara; she folded them and put them -away. Why do you ask?’ - -Jasper sighed and put his hand to his head. Silence ensued for some -time; had not he held his hand to the wound Eve would have supposed he -was asleep. Now, all at once, Eve saw the cowslip ball; it was under -the table, and with the point of her little foot she could touch it and -roll it to her. So she played with the ball, rolling it with her feet, -but so lightly that she made no noise. - -All at once he looked round at her. Startled, she kicked the cowslip -ball away. He turned his head away again. - -About five minutes later she was on tiptoe, stealing across the room to -where the ball had rolled. She picked it up and laid it on the pillow -near Jasper’s face. He opened his eyes. They had been closed. - -‘I thought,’ explained Eve, ‘that the scent of the flowers might do -you good. They are somewhat bruised and so smell the stronger.’ - -He half nodded and closed his eyes again. - -Presently she plucked timidly at the sheet. As he paid no attention she -plucked again. He looked at her. The bright face, like an opening wild -rose, was bending over him. - -‘Will it disturb you greatly if I ask you a question?’ - -He shook his head. - -‘Who was that young man whom you called Martin?’ - -He looked earnestly into her eyes, and the colour mounted under the -transparent skin of her throat, cheeks, and brow. - -‘Eve,’ he said gravely, ‘have you ever been ill—cut, wounded’—he put -out his hand and lightly indicated her heart—’there?’ - -She shook her pretty head with a smile. - -‘Then think and ask no more about Martin. He came to you out of -darkness, he went from you into darkness. Put him utterly and for ever -out of your thoughts as you value your happiness.’ - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -BAB. - - -AS Jasper recovered, he saw less of the sisters. June had come, and -with it lovely weather, and with the lovely weather the haysel. The -air was sweet about the house with the fragrance of hay, and the soft -summer breath wafted the pollen and fine strands on its wings into the -court and in at the windows of the old house. Hay harvest was a busy -time, especially for Barbara Jordan. She engaged extra hands, and saw -that cake was baked and beer brewed for the harvesters. Mr. Jordan had -become, as years passed, more abstracted from the cares of the farm, -and more steeped in his fantastic semi-scientific pursuits. As his -eldest daughter put her strong shoulder to the wheel of business, Mr. -Jordan edged his from under it and left the whole pressure upon her. -Consequently Barbara was very much engaged. All that was necessary to -be done for the convalescent was done, quietly and considerately; but -Jasper was left considerably to himself. Neither Barbara nor Eve had -the leisure, even if they had the inclination, to sit in his room and -entertain him with conversation. Eve brought Jasper fresh flowers every -morning, and by snatches sang to him. The little parlour opened out of -the room he occupied, and in it was her harpsichord, an old instrument, -without much tone, but it served to accompany her clear fresh voice. -In the evening she and Barbara sang duets. The elder sister had a good -alto voice that contrasted well with the warble of her sister’s soprano. - -Mr. Jordan came periodically into the sick room, and saluted his guest -in a shy, reserved manner, asked how he progressed, made some common -remark about the weather, fidgeted with the backs of the chairs or the -brim of his hat, and went away. He was a timid man with strangers, -a man who lived in his own thoughts, a man with a frightened, -far-off look in his eyes. He was ungainly in his movements, through -nervousness. He made no friends, he had acquaintances only. - -His peculiar circumstances, the connection with Eve’s mother, his -natural reserve, had kept him apart from the gentlefolks around. His -reserve had deepened of late, and his shyness had become painful to -himself and to those with whom he spoke. - -As Eve grew up, and her beauty was observed, the neighbours pitied the -two girls, condemned through no fault of their own to a life of social -exclusion. Of Barbara everyone spoke well, as an excellent manager and -thrifty housekeeper, kind of heart, in all things reliable. Of Eve -everyone spoke as a beauty. Some little informal conclaves had been -held in the neighbourhood, and one good lady had said to the Cloberrys, -‘If you will call, so will I.’ So the Cloberrys of Bradstone, as a -leading county family, had taken the initiative and called. As the -Cloberry family coach drove up to the gate of Morwell, Mr. Jordan -was all but caught, but he had the presence of mind to slip behind a -laurel bush, that concealed his body, whilst exposing his legs. There -he remained motionless, believing himself unseen, till the carriage -drove away. After the Cloberrys had called, other visitors arrived, -and the girls received invitations to tea, which they gladly accepted. -Mr. Jordan sent his card by his daughters; he would make no calls in -person, and the neighbours were relieved not to see him. That affair of -seventeen years ago was not forgiven. - -Mr. Jordan was well pleased that his daughters should go into society, -or rather that his daughter Eve should be received and admired. With -Barbara he had not much in common, only the daily cares of the estate, -and these worried him. To Eve, and to her alone, he opened out, and -spoke of things that lived within, in his mind, to her alone did he -exhibit tenderness. Barbara was shut out from his heart; she felt the -exclusion, but did not resent the preference shown to Eve. That was -natural, it was Eve’s due, for Eve was so beautiful, so bright, so -perfect a little fairy. But, though Barbara did not grudge her young -sister the love that was given to her, she felt an ache in her heart, -and a regret that the father’s love was not so full that it could -embrace and envelop both. - -One day, when the afternoon sun was streaming into the hall, Barbara -crossed it, and came to the convalescent’s room. - -‘Come,’ she said, ‘my father and I think you had better sit outside -the house; we are carrying the hay, and it may amuse you to watch -the waggons. The sweet air will do you good. You must be weary of -confinement in this little room.’ - -‘How can I be weary where I am so kindly treated!—where all speaks to -me of rest and peace and culture!’ Jasper was dressed, and was sitting -in an armchair reading, or pretending to read, a book. - -‘Can you rise, Mr. Jasper?’ she asked. - -He tried to leave the chair, but he was still very weak, so she -assisted him. - -‘And now,’ she said kindly, ‘walk, sir!’ - -She watched his steps. His face was pale, and the pallor was the more -observable from the darkness of his hair. ‘I think,’ said he, forcing a -smile, ‘I must beg a little support.’ - -She went without hesitation to his side, and he put his arm in hers. He -had not only lost much blood, but had been bruised and severely shaken, -and was not certain of his steps. Barbara was afraid, in crossing the -hall, lest he should fall on the stone floor. She disengaged his hand, -put her arm about his waist, bade him lean on her shoulder. How strong -she seemed! - -‘Can you get on now?’ she asked, looking up. His deep eyes met her. - -‘I could get on for ever thus,’ he answered. - -She flushed scarlet. - -‘I dislike such speeches,’ she said; and disengaged herself from him. -Whilst her arm was about him her hand had felt the beating of his heart. - -She conducted him to a bench in the garden near a bed of stocks, where -the bees were busy. - -‘How beautiful the world looks when one has not seen it for many days!’ -he said. - -‘Yes, there is a good shear of hay, saved in splendid order.’ - -‘When a child is born into the world there is always a gathering, and a -festival to greet it. I am born anew into the beautiful world to-day. I -am on the threshold of a new life, and you have nursed me into it. Am -I too presumptuous if I ask you to sit here a very little while, and -welcome me into it? That will be a festival indeed.’ - -She smiled good-humouredly, and took her place on the bench. Jasper -puzzled her daily more and more. What was he? What was the temptation -that had led him away? Was his repentance thorough? Barbara prayed for -him daily, with the excuse to her conscience that it was always well to -pray for the conversion of a sinner, and that she was bound to pray for -the man whom Providence had cast broken and helpless at her feet. The -Good Samaritan prayed, doubtless, for the man who fell among thieves. -She was interested in her patient. Her patient he was, as she was the -only person in the house to provide and order whatever was done in it. -Her patient, Eve and her father called him. Her patient he was, somehow -her own heart told her he was; bound to her doubly by the solicitude -with which she had nursed him, by the secret of his life which she had -surprised. - -He puzzled her. He puzzled her more and more daily. There was a -gentleness and refinement in his manner and speech that showed her he -was not a man of low class, that if he were not a gentleman by birth -he was one in mind and culture. There was a grave religiousness about -him, moreover, that could not be assumed, and did not comport with a -criminal. - -Who was he, and what had he done? How far had he sinned, or been -sinned against? Barbara’s mind was fretted with these ever-recurring -questions. Teased with the enigma, she could not divert her thoughts -for long from it—it formed the background to all that occupied her -during the day. She considered the dairy, but when the butter was -weighed, went back in mind to the riddle. She was withdrawn again by -the demands of the cook for groceries from her store closet; when the -closet door was shut she was again thinking of the puzzle. She had to -calculate the amount of cake required for the harvesters, and went -on from the calculations of currants and sugar to the balancing of -probabilities in the case of Jasper. - -She had avoided seeing him of late more than was necessary, she -had resolved not to go near him, and let the maid Jane attend to -his requirements, aided by Christopher Davy’s boy, who cleaned the -boots and knives, and ran errands, and weeded the paths, and was made -generally useful. Yet for all her resolve she did not keep it: she -discovered that some little matter had been neglected, which forced her -to enter the room. - -When she was there she was impatient to be out of it again, and she -hardly spoke to Jasper, was short, busy, and away in a moment. - -‘It does not do to leave the servants to themselves,’ soliloquised -Barbara. ‘They half do whatever they are set at. The sick man would not -like to complain. I must see to everything myself.’ - -Now she complied with his request to sit beside him, but was at once -filled with restlessness. She could not speak to him on the one subject -that tormented her. She had herself forbidden mention of it. - -She looked askance at Jasper, who was not speaking. He had his hat -off, on his lap; his eyes were moist, his lips were moving. She was -confident he was praying. He turned in a moment, recovered his head, -and said with his sweet smile, ‘God is good. I have already thanked -you. I have thanked him now.’ - -Was this hypocrisy? Barbara could not believe it. - -She said, ‘If you have no objection, may we know your name? I have been -asked by my father and others. I mean,’ she hesitated, ‘a name by which -you would care to be called.’ - -‘You shall have my real name,’ he said, slightly colouring. - -‘For myself to know, or to tell others?’ - -‘As you will, Miss Jordan. My name is Babb.’ - -‘Babb!’ echoed Barbara. She thought to herself that it was a name as -ugly as it was unusual. At that moment Eve appeared, glowing with life, -a wreath of wild roses wound about her hat. - -‘Bab! Bab dear!’ she cried, referring to her sister. - -Barbara turned crimson, and sprang from her seat. - -‘The last cartload is going to start,’ said Eve eagerly, ‘and the -men say that I am the Queen and must sit on the top; but I want -half-a-crown, Bab dear, to pay my footing up the ladder to the top of -the load.’ - -Barbara drew her sister away. ‘Eve! never call me by that ridiculous -pet-name again. When we were children it did not matter. Now I do not -wish it.’ - -‘Why not?’ asked the wondering girl. ‘How hot you are looking, and yet -you have been sitting still!’ - -‘I do not wish it, Eve. You will make me very angry, and I shall feel -hurt if you do it again. Bab—think, darling, the name is positively -revolting, I assure you. I hate it. If you have any love for me in your -heart, any regard for my feelings, you will not call me by it again. -Bab——!’ - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE POCKET-BOOK. - - -JASPER drew in full draughts of the delicious air, leaning back on -the bench, himself in shade, watching the trees, hearing the hum of -the bees, and the voices of the harvesters, pleasant and soft in the -distance, as if the golden sun had subdued all the harshness in the -tones of the rough voices. Then the waggon drew nigh; the garden was -above the level of the farmyard, terraced so that Jasper could not -see the cart and horses, or the men, but he saw the great load of -grey-green hay move by, with Eve and Barbara seated on it, the former -not only crowned with roses, but holding a pole with a bunch of roses -and a flutter of ribands at the top. Eve’s golden hair had fallen loose -and was about her shoulders. She was in an ecstasy of gaiety. As the -load travelled along before the garden, both Eve and her sister saw -the sick man on his bench. He seemed so thin, white, and feeble in the -midst of a fresh and vigorous nature that Barbara’s heart grew soft, -and she had to bite her lip to control its quiver. Eve waved her staff -topped with flowers and streamers, stood up in the hay and curtsied to -him, with a merry laugh, and then dropped back into the hay, having -lost her balance through the jolting of the wheels. Jasper brightened, -and, removing his hat, returned the salute with comic majesty. Then, -as Eve and Barbara disappeared, he fell back against the wall, and his -eyes rested on the fluttering leaves of a white poplar, and some white -butterflies that might have been leaves reft from the trees, flickering -and pursuing each other in the soft air. The swallows that lived in -a colony of inverted clay domes under the eaves were darting about, -uttering shrill cries, the expression of exuberant joy of life. Jasper -sank into a summer dream. - -He was roused from his reverie by a man coming between him and the -pretty garden picture that filled his eyes. He recognised the surgeon, -Mr.—or as the country people called him, Doctor—Coyshe. The young -medical man had no objection to being thus entitled, but he very -emphatically protested against his name being converted into Quash, -or even Squash. Coyshe is a very respectable and ancient Devonshire -family name, but it is a name that lends itself readily to phonetic -degradation, and the young surgeon had to do daily battle to preserve -it from being vulgarised. ‘Good afternoon, patient!’ said he cheerily; -‘doing well, thanks to my treatment.’ - -Jasper made a suitable reply. - -‘Ah! I dare say you pull a face at seeing me now, thinking I am paying -visits for the sake of my fee, when need for my attendance is past. -That, let me tell you, is the way of some doctors; it is, however, -not mine. Lord love you, I knew a case of a man who sent for a doctor -because his wife was ill, and was forced to smother her under pillows -to cut short the attendance and bring the bill within the compass of -his means. Bless your stars, my man, that you fell into my hands, not -into those of old Crooke.’ - -‘I am assured,’ said Jasper, ‘that I am fallen into the best possible -hands.’ - -‘Who assured you of that?’ asked Coyshe sharply; ‘Miss Eve or the -other?’ - -‘I am assured by my own experience of your skill.’ - -‘Ah! an ordinary practitioner would have trepanned you; the whole run -of them, myself and myself only excepted, have an itch in their fingers -for the saw and the scalpel. There is far too much bleeding, cupping, -and calomel used in the profession now—but what are we to say? The -people love to have it so, to see blood and have a squeal for their -money. I’ve had before now to administer a bread pill and give it a -Greek name.’ - -Mr. Jordan from his study, the girls from the stackyard (or moway, as -it is locally called), saw or heard the surgeon. He was loud in his -talk and made himself heard. They came to him into the garden. Eve, -with her natural coquetry, retained the crown of roses and her sceptre. - -‘You see,’ said Mr. Coyshe, rubbing his hands, ‘I have done wonders. -This would have been a dead man but for me. Now, sir, look at me,’ he -said to Jasper; ‘you owe me a life.’ - -‘I know very well to whom I owe my life,’ answered Jasper, and glanced -at Barbara. ‘To my last hour I shall not forget the obligation.’ - -‘And do you know _why_ he owes me his life?’ asked the surgeon of -Mr. Jordan. ‘Because I let nature alone, and kept old Crooke away. -I can tell you the usual practice. The doctor comes and shrugs his -shoulders and takes snuff. When he sees a proper impression made, he -says, “However; we will do our best, only we don’t work miracles.” He -sprinkles his victim with snuff, as if about to embalm the body. If the -man dies, the reason is clear. Crooke was not sent for in time. If he -recovers, Crooke has wrought a miracle. That is not my way, as you all -know.’ He looked about him complacently. - -‘What will you take, Mr. Coyshe?’ asked Barbara; ‘some of our haysel -ale, or claret? And will you come indoors for refreshment?’ - -‘Indoors! O dear me, no!’ said the young doctor; ‘I keep out of the -atmosphere impregnated with four or five centuries of dirt as much -as I can. If I had my way I would burn down every house with all its -contents every ten years, and so we might get rid of half the diseases -which ravage the world. I wouldn’t live in your old ramshackle Morwell -if I were paid ten guineas a day. The atmosphere must be poisoned, -charged with particles of dust many centuries old. Under every -cupboard, ay, and on top of it, is fluff, and every stir of a gown, -every tread of a foot, sets it floating, and the currents bring it to -your lungs or pores. What is that dust made up of? Who can tell? The -scrapings of old monks, the scum of Protestant reformers, the detritus -of any number of Jordans for ages, some of whom have had measles, some -scarlet-fever, some small-pox. No, thank you. I’ll have my claret in -the garden. I can tell you without looking what goes to make up the air -in that pestilent old box; the dog has carried old bones behind the -cupboard, the cat has been set a saucer of milk under the chest, which -has been forgotten and gone sour. An old stocking which one of the -ladies was mending was thrust under a sofa cushion, when the front door -bell rang, and she had to receive callers—and that also was forgotten.’ - -Miss Jordan waxed red and indignant. ‘Mr. Coyshe,’ she said, ‘I cannot -hear you say this, it is not true. Our house is perfectly sweet and -clean; there is neither a store of old bones, nor a half-darned -stocking, nor any of the other abominations you mentioned about it.’ - -‘Your eyes have not seen the world through a microscope. Mine have,’ -answered the unabashed surgeon. ‘When a ray of sunlight enters your -rooms, you can see the whole course of the ray.’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘Very well, that is because the air is dirty. If it were clean you -would be unable to see it. No, thank you. I will have my claret in the -garden; perhaps you would not mind having it sent out to me. The air -out of doors is pure compared to that of a house.’ - -A little table, wine, glasses and cake were sent out. Barbara and Eve -did not reappear. - -Mr. Jordan had a great respect for the young doctor. His -self-assurance, his pedantry, his boasting, imposed on the timid and -half-cultured mind of the old man. He hoped to get information from -the surgeon about tests for metals, to interest him in his pursuits -without letting him into his secrets; he therefore overcame his shyness -sufficiently to appear and converse when Mr. Coyshe arrived. - -‘What a very beautiful daughter you have got!’ said Coyshe; ‘one that -is only to be seen in pictures. A man despairs of beholding such -loveliness in actual life, and see, here, at the limit of the world, -the vision flashes on one! Not much like you, Squire, not much like her -sister; looks as if she belonged to another breed.’ - -Jasper Babb looked round startled at the audacity and rudeness of the -surgeon. Mr. Jordan was not offended; he seemed indeed flattered. He -was very proud of Eve. - -‘You are right. My eldest daughter has almost nothing in common with -her younger sister—only a half-sister.’ - -‘Really,’ said Coyshe, ‘it makes me shiver for the future of that fairy -being. I take it for granted she will be yoked to some county booby of -a squire, a Bob Acres. Good Lord! what a prospect! A jewel of gold in a -swine’s snout, as Solomon says.’ - -‘Eve shall never marry one unworthy of her,’ said Ignatius Jordan -vehemently. She will be under no constraint. She will be able to -afford to shape her future according to her fancy. She will be -comfortably off.’ - -‘Comfortably off fifty years ago means pinched now, and pinched now -means screwed flat fifty years hence. Everything is becoming costly. -Living is a luxury only for the well-to-do. The rest merely exist under -sufferance.’ - -‘Miss Eve will not be pinched,’ answered Mr. Jordan, unconscious that -he was being drawn out by the surgeon. ‘Seventeen years ago I lent -fifteen hundred pounds, which is to be returned to me on Midsummer Day. -To that I can add about five hundred; I have saved something since—not -much, for somehow the estate has not answered as it did of old.’ - -‘You have two daughters.’ - -‘Oh, yes, there is Barbara,’ said Jordan in a tone of indifference. -‘Of course she will have something, but then—she can always manage for -herself—with the other it is different.’ - -‘Are you ill?’ asked Coyshe, suddenly, observing that Jasper had turned -very pale, and dark under the eyes. ‘Is the air too strong for you?’ - -‘No, let me remain here. The sun does me good.’ - -Mr. Jordan was rather glad of this opportunity of publishing the -fortune he was going to give his younger daughter. He wished it to be -known in the neighbourhood, that Eve might be esteemed and sought by -suitable young men. He often said to himself that he could die content -were Eve in a position where she would be happy and admired. - -‘When did Miss Eve’s mother die?’ asked Coyshe abruptly. Mr. Jordan -started. - -‘Did I say she was dead? Did I mention her?’ - -Coyshe mused, put his hand through his hair and ruffled it up; then -folded his arms and threw out his legs. - -‘Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money?’ - -‘What do you mean?’ - -‘That money you say you lent seventeen years ago. What are your -securities?’ - -‘The best. The word of an honourable man.’ - -‘The word!’ Mr. Coyshe whistled. ‘Words! What are words?’ - -‘He offered me a mortgage, but it never came,’ said Mr. Jordan. -‘Indeed, I never applied for it. I had his word.’ - -‘If you see the shine of that money again, you are lucky.’ Then looking -at Jasper: ‘My patient is upset again—I thought the air was too strong -for him. He must be carried in. He is going into a fit.’ - -Jasper was leaning back against the wall, with distended eyes, and -hands and teeth clenched as with a spasm. - -‘No,’ said Jasper faintly, ‘I am not in a fit.’ - -‘You looked much as if going into an attack of lock-jaw.’ - -At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed the condition of -the convalescent. - -‘Here,’ said she, ‘lean on me as you did coming out. This has been too -much for you. Will you help me, Doctor Coyshe?’ - -‘Thank you,’ said Jasper. ‘If Miss Jordan will suffer me to rest on her -arm, I will return to my room.’ - -When he was back in his armchair and the little room he had occupied, -Barbara looked earnestly in his face and said, ‘What has troubled you? -I am sure something has.’ - -‘I am very unhappy,’ he answered, ‘but you must ask me no questions.’ - -Miss Jordan went in quest of her sister. ‘Eve,’ she said, ‘our poor -patient is exhausted. Sit in the parlour and play and sing, and give a -look into his room now and then. I am busy.’ - -The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr. Jordan’s -thoughts. When Mr. Coyshe rejoined him, which he did the moment he -saw Jasper safe in his room, Mr. Jordan said, ‘I cannot believe that I -ran any risk with the money. The man to whom I lent it is honourable. -Besides, I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt; not that I -would use it against him.’ - -‘A man’s word,’ said Coyshe, ‘is like india-rubber that can be made -into any shape he likes. A word is made up of letters, and he will hold -to the letters and permute their order to suit his own convenience, not -yours. A man will stick to his word only so long as his word will stick -to him. It depends entirely on which side it is licked. Hark! Is that -Miss Eve singing? What a voice! Why, if she were trained and on the -stage——’ - -Mr. Jordan stood up, agitated and angry. - -‘I beg your pardon,’ said Coyshe. ‘Does the suggestion offend you? I -merely threw it out in the event of the money lent not turning up.’ - -Just then his eyes fell on something that lay under the seat. ‘What is -that? Have you dropped a pocket-book?’ - -A rough large leather pocket-book that was to which he pointed. Mr. -Jordan stooped and took it up. He examined it attentively and uttered -an exclamation of surprise. - -‘Well,’ said the surgeon mockingly, ‘is the money come, dropped from -the clouds at your feet?’ - -‘No,’ answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, ‘but this is most -extraordinary, most mysterious! How comes this case here? It is the -very same which I handed over, filled with notes, to that man seventeen -years ago! See! there are my initials on it; there on the shield is my -crest. How comes it here?’ - -‘The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here? but what does it -contain?’ - -‘Nothing.’ - -The surgeon put his hands in his pockets, screwed up his lips for a -whistle, and said, ‘I foretold this, I am always right.’ - -‘The money is not due till Midsummer-day.’ - -‘Nor will come till the Greek kalends. Poor Miss Eve!’ - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -BARBARA’S PETITION. - - -MIDSUMMER-DAY was come. Mr. Jordan was in suspense and agitation. His -pale face was more livid and drawn than usual. The fears inspired by -the surgeon had taken hold of him. - -Before the birth of Eve he had been an energetic man, eager to get all -he could out of the estate, but for seventeen years an unaccountable -sadness had hung over him, damping his ardour; his thoughts had been -carried away from his land, whither no one knew, though the results -were obvious enough. - -With Barbara he had little in common. She was eminently practical. -He was always in a dream. She was never on an easy footing with her -father, she tried to understand him and failed, she feared that his -brain was partially disturbed. Perhaps her efforts to make him out -annoyed him; at any rate he was cold towards her, without being -intentionally unkind. An ever-present restraint was upon both in each -other’s presence. - -At first, after the disappearance of Eve’s mother, things had gone -on upon the old lines. Christopher Davy had superintended the farm -labours, but as he aged and failed, and Barbara grew to see the -necessity for supervision, she took the management of the farm as -well as of the house upon herself. She saw that the men dawdled over -their work, and that the condition of the estate was going back. Tho -coppices had not been shredded in winter and the oak was grown into a -tangle. The rending for bark in spring was done unsystematically. The -hedges became ragged, the ploughs out of order, the thistles were -not cut periodically and prevented from seeding. There were not men -sufficient to do the work that had to be done. She had not the time to -attend to the men as well as the maids, to the farmyard as well as the -house. She had made up her mind that a proper bailiff must be secured, -with authority to employ as many labourers as the estate required. -Barbara was convinced that her father, with his lost, dreamy head, was -incapable of managing their property, even if he had the desire. Now -that the trusty old Davy was ill, and breaking up, she had none to -advise her. - -She was roused to anger on Midsummer-day by discovering that the -hayrick had never been thatched, and that it had been exposed to the -rain which had fallen heavily, so that half of it had to be taken down -because soaked, lest it should catch fire or blacken. This was the -result of the carelessness of the men. She determined to speak to her -father at once. She had good reason for doing so. - -She found him in his study arranging his specimens of mundic and -peacock copper. - -‘Has anyone come, asking for me?’ he said, looking up with fluttering -face from his work. - -‘No one, father.’ - -‘You startled me, Barbara, coming on me stealthily from behind. What -do you want with me? You see I am engaged, and you know I hate to be -disturbed.’ - -‘I have something I wish to speak about.’ - -‘Well, well, say it and go.’ His shaking hands resumed their work. - -‘It is the old story, dear papa. I want you to engage a steward. It is -impossible for us to go on longer in the way we have. You know how I am -kept on the run from morning to night. I have to look after all your -helpless men, as well as my own helpless maids. When I am in the field, -there is mischief done in the kitchen; when I am in the house, the -men are smoking and idling on the farm. Eve cannot help me in seeing -to domestic matters, she has not the experience. Everything devolves -on me. I do not grudge doing my utmost, but I have not the time for -everything, and I am not ubiquitous.’ - -‘No,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘Eve cannot undertake any sort of work. That is -an understood thing.’ - -‘I know it is. If I ask her to be sure and recollect something, she is -certain with the best intentions to forget; she is a dear beautiful -butterfly, not fit to be harnessed. Her brains are thistledown, her -bones cherry stalks.’ - -‘Yes, do not crush her spirits with uncongenial work.’ - -‘I do not want to. I know as well as yourself that I must rely on her -for nothing. But the result is that I am overtasked. Now—will you -credit it? The beautiful hay that was like green tea is spoiled. Those -stupid men did not thatch it. They said they had no reed, and waited -to comb some till the rain set in. When it did pour, they were all in -the barn talking and making reed, but at the same time the water was -drenching and spoiling the hay. Oh, papa, I feel disposed to cry!’ - -‘I will speak to them about it,’ said Mr. Jordan, with a sigh, not -occasioned by the injury to his hay, but because he was disturbed over -his specimens. - -‘My dear papa,’ said the energetic Barbara, ‘I do not wish you to be -troubled about these tiresome matters. You are growing old, daily -older, and your strength is not gaining. You have other pursuits. You -are not heartily interested in the farm. I see your hand tremble when -you hold your fork at dinner; you are becoming thinner every day. I -would spare you trouble. It is really necessary, I must have it—you -must engage a bailiff. I shall break down, and that will be the end, -or we shall all go to ruin. The woods are running to waste. There are -trees lying about literally rotting. They ought to be sent away to the -Devonport dockyard where they could be sold. Last spring, when you let -the rending, the barbers shaved a whole copse wood, as if shaving a -man’s chin, instead of leaving the better sticks standing.’ - -‘We have enough to live on.’ - -‘We must do our duty to the land on which we live. I cannot endure -to see waste anywhere. I have only one head, one pair of eyes, and -one pair of hands. I cannot think of, see to, and do everything. I -lie awake night after night considering what has to be done, and the -day is too short for me to do all I have determined on in the night. -Whilst that poor gentleman has been ill, I have had to think of him -in addition to everything else; so some duties have been neglected. -That is how, I suppose, the doctor came to guess there was a stocking -half-darned under the sofa cushion. Eve was mending it, she tired and -put it away, and of course forgot it. I generally look about for Eve’s -leavings, and tidy her scraps when she has gone to bed, but I have been -too busy. I am vexed about that stocking. How those protruding eyes of -the doctor managed to see it I cannot think. He was, however, wrong -about the saucer of sour milk.’ - -Mr. Jordan continued nervously sorting his minerals into little white -card boxes. - -‘Well, papa, are you going to do anything?’ - -‘Do—do—what?’ - -‘Engage a bailiff. I am sure we shall gain money by working the estate -better. The bailiff will pay his cost, and something over.’ - -‘You are very eager for money,’ said Mr. Jordan sulkily; ‘are you -thinking of getting married, and anxious to have a dower?’ - -Barbara coloured deeply, hurt and offended. - -‘This is unkind of you, papa; I am thinking of Eve. I think only of -her. You ought to know that’—the tears came into her eyes. ‘Of course -Eve will marry some day;’ then she laughed, ‘no one will ever come for -me.’ - -‘To be sure,’ said Mr. Jordan. - -‘I have been thinking, papa, that Eve ought to be sent to some very -nice lady, or to some very select school, where she might have proper -finishing. All she has learnt has been from me, and I have had so much -to do, and I have been so unable to be severe with Eve—that—that—I -don’t think she has learned much except music, to which she takes -instinctively as a South Sea islander to water.’ - -‘I cannot be parted from Eve. It would rob my sky of its sun. What -would this house be with only you—I mean without Eve to brighten it?’ - -‘If you will think the matter over, father, you will see that it ought -to be. We must consider Eve, and not ourselves. I would not have her, -dear heart, anywhere but in the very best school,—hardly a school, a -place where only three or four young ladies are taken, and they of -the best families. That will cost money, so we must put our shoulders -to the wheel, and push the old coach on.’ She laid her hands on the -back of her father’s chair and leaned over his shoulder. She had been -standing behind him. Did she hope he would kiss her? If so, her hope -was vain. - -‘Do, dear papa, engage an honest, superior sort of man to look after -the farm. I will promise to make a great deal of money with my dairy, -if he will see to the cows in the fields. Try the experiment, and, -trust me, it will answer.’ - -‘All in good time.’ - -‘No, papa, do not put this off. There is another reason why I speak. -Christopher Davy is bedridden. You are sometimes absent, then we girls -are left alone in this great house, all day, and occasionally nights as -well. You know there was no one here on that night when the accident -happened. There were two men in this house, one, indeed, insensible. -We know nothing of them, who they were, and what they were about. How -can you tell that bad characters may not come here? It is thought that -you have saved money, and it is known that Morwell is unprotected. -You, papa, are so frail, and with your shaking hand a gun would not be -dangerous.’ - -He started from his chair and upset his specimens. - -‘Do not speak like that,’ he said, trembling. - -‘There, I have disturbed you even by alluding to it. If you were to -level a gun, and had your finger——’ - -He put his hand, a cold, quivering hand, on her lips: ‘For God’s -sake—silence!’ he said. - -She obeyed. She knew how odd her father was, yet his agitation now was -so great that it surprised her. It made her more resolute to carry her -point. - -‘Papa, you are expecting to have about two thousand pounds in the -house. Will it be safe? You have told the doctor, and that man, our -patient, heard you. Excuse my saying it, but I think it was not well -to mention it before a perfect stranger. You may have told others. Mr. -Coyshe is a chatterbox, he may have talked about it throughout the -neighbourhood—the fact may be known to everyone, that to-day you are -expecting to have a large sum of money brought you. Well—who is to -guard it? Are there no needy and unscrupulous men in the county who -would rob the house, and maybe silence an old man and two girls who -stood in their way to a couple of thousand pounds?’ - -‘The sum is large. It must be hidden away,’ said Mr. Jordan, uneasily. -‘I had not considered the danger’—he paused—’if it be paid——’ - -‘_If_, papa? I thought you were sure of it.’ - -‘Yes, quite sure; only Mr. Coyshe disturbed me by suggesting doubts.’ - -‘Oh, the doctor!’ exclaimed Barbara, shrugging her shoulders. - -‘Well, the doctor,’ repeated Mr. Jordan, captiously. ‘He is a very able -man. Why do you turn up your nose at him? He can see through a stone -wall, and under a cushion to where a stocking is hidden, and under a -cupboard to where a saucer of sour milk is thrust away; and he can see -into the human body through the flesh and behind the bones, and can -tell you where every nerve and vein is, and what is wrong with each. -When things are wrong, then it is like stockings and saucers where they -ought not to be in a house.’ - -‘He was wrong about the saucer of sour milk, utterly wrong,’ persisted -Barbara. - -‘I hope and trust the surgeon was wrong in his forecast about the -money—but my heart fails me——’ - -‘He was wrong about the saucer,’ said the girl encouragingly. - -‘But he was right about the stocking,’ said her father dispiritedly. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -GRANTED! - - -AS the sun declined, Mr. Jordan became uneasy. He could not remain in -his study. He could not rest anywhere. The money had not been returned. -He had taken out of his strong box Ezekiel Babb’s acknowledgment and -promise of payment, but he knew that it was so much waste-paper to -him. He could not or would not proceed against the borrower. Had he -not wronged him cruelly by living with his daughter as if she were his -wife, without having been legally married to her? Could he take legal -proceedings for the recovery of his money, and so bring all the ugly -story to light and publish it to the world? He had let Mr. Babb have -the money to pacify him, and make some amends for the wrong he had -done. No! If Mr. Babb did not voluntarily return the money, Ignatius -Jordan foresaw that it was lost to him, lost to Eve, and poor Eve’s -future was unprovided for. The estate must go to Barbara, that is, the -reversion in the tenure of it; the ready money he had intended for -Eve. Mr. Jordan felt a bitterness rise in his heart against Barbara, -whose future was assured, whilst that of Eve was not. He would have -liked to leave Morwell to his younger daughter, but he was not sure -that the Duke would approve of this, and he was quite sure that Eve was -incompetent to manage a farm and dairy. - -At the time of which we treat, it was usual for every squire to farm a -portion of his own estate, his manor house was backed with extensive -outbuildings for cattle, and his wife and daughters were not above -superintending the dairy. Indeed, an ancestress of the author took farm -after farm into her own hands as the leases fell in, and at last farmed -the entire parish. She died in 1795. The Jordans were not squires, but -perpetual tenants under the Dukes of Bedford, and had been received by -the country gentry on an equal footing, till Mr. Jordan compromised his -character by his union with Eve’s mother. The estate of Morwell was a -large one for one man to farm; if the Duke had exacted a large rent, -of late years Mr. Jordan would have fallen into arrears, but the Duke -had not raised his rent at the last renewal. The Dukes were the most -indulgent of landlords. - -Mr. Jordan came into the hall. It was the same as it had been seventeen -years before; the same old clock was there, ticking in the same tone, -the same scanty furniture of a few chairs, the same slate floor. Only -the cradle was no longer to be seen. The red light smote into the -room just as it had seventeen years before. There against the wall it -painted a black cross as it had done seventeen years ago. - -Ignatius Jordan looked up over the great fireplace. Above it hung the -musket he had been cleaning when Ezekiel Babb entered. It had not -been taken down and used since that day. Seventeen years! It was an -age. The little babe that had lain in the cradle was now a beautiful -marriageable maiden. Time had made its mark upon himself. His back -was more bent, his hand more shaky, his walk less steady; a careful, -thrifty man had been converted into an abstracted, half-crazed dreamer. -Seventeen years of gnawing care and ceaseless sorrow! How had he been -able to bear it? Only by the staying wings of love, of love for his -little Eve—for _her_ child. Without his Eve, _her_ child, long ago he -would have sunk and been swallowed up, the clouds of derangement of -intellect would have descended on his brain, or his bodily health would -have given way. - -Seventeen years ago, on Midsummer-day, there had stood on the little -folding oak table under the window a tumbler full of china roses, which -were drooping, and had shed their leaves over the polished, almost -black, table top. They had been picked some days before by his wife. -Now, in the same place stood a glass, and in it were roses from the -same tree, not drooping, but fresh and glistening, placed that morning -there by _her_ daughter. His eye sought the clock. At five o’clock, -seventeen years ago, Ezekiel Babb had come into that hall through that -doorway, and had borrowed his money. The clock told that the time -was ten minutes to five. If Mr. Babb did not appear to the hour, he -would abandon the expectation of seeing him. He must make a journey -to Buckfastleigh over the moor, a long day’s journey, and seek the -defaulter, and know the reason why the loan was not repaid. - -He thought of the pocket-book on the gravel. How came it there? Who -could have brought it? Mr. Jordan was too fully impressed with belief -in the supernatural not to suppose it was dropped at his feet as a -warning that his money was gone. - -Mr. Jordan’s eyes were fixed on the clock. The works began to whir-r. -Then followed the strokes. One—two—three—four—FIVE. - -At the last stroke the door of Jasper’s sickroom opened, and the -convalescent slowly entered the hall and confronted his host. - -The last week had wrought wonders in the man. He had rapidly recovered -flesh and vigour after his wounds were healed. - -As he entered, and his eyes met those of Mr. Jordan, the latter felt -that a messenger from Ezekiel Babb stood before him, and that his money -was not forthcoming. - -‘Well, sir?’ he said. - -‘I am Jasper, the eldest son of Ezekiel Babb, of Owlacombe in -Buckfastleigh,’ he said. ‘My father borrowed money of you this day -seventeen years ago, and solemnly swore on this day to repay it.’ - -‘Well?’ - -‘It is not well. I have not got the money.’ - -A moan of disappointment broke from the heart of Ignatius Jordan, then -a spasm of rage, such as might seize on a madman, transformed his face; -his eye blazed, and he sprang to his feet and ran towards Jasper. The -latter, keeping his eye on him, said firmly, ‘Listen to me, Mr. Jordan. -Pray sit down again, and I will explain to you why my father has not -sent the money.’ - -Mr. Jordan hesitated. His face quivered. With his raised hand he would -have struck Jasper, but the composure of the latter awed him. The -paroxysm passed, and he sank into his chair, and gave way to depression. - -‘My father is a man of honour. He gave you his word, and he intended -to keep it. He borrowed of you a large sum, and he laid it out in the -purchase of some land. He has been fairly prosperous. He saved money -enough to repay the debt, and perhaps more. As the time drew nigh for -repayment he took the sum required from the bank in notes, and locked -them in his bureau. Others knew of this. My father was not discreet: he -talked about the repayment, he resented having to make it, complained -that he would be reduced to great straits without it.’ - -‘The money was not his, but mine.’ - -‘I know that,’ said Jasper, sorrowfully. ‘But my father has always -been what is termed a close man, has thought much of money, and -cannot bear to part with it. I do not say that this justifies, but it -explains, his dissatisfaction. He is an old man, and becoming feeble, -and clings through force of habit to his money.’ - -‘Go on; nothing can justify him.’ - -‘Others knew of his money. One day he was at Totnes, at a great cloth -fair. He did not return till the following day. During his absence his -bureau was broken open, and the money stolen.’ - -‘Was the thief not caught? Was the money not recovered?’ asked Mr. -Jordan, trembling with excitement. - -‘The money was in part recovered.’ - -‘Where is it?’ - -‘Listen to what follows. You asked if the—the person who took the money -was caught. He was.’ - -‘Is he in prison?’ - -‘The person who took the money was caught, tried, and sent to jail. -When taken, some of the money was found about him; he had not spent it -all. What remained I was bringing you.’ - -‘Give it me.’ - -‘I have not got it.’ - -‘You have not got it?’ - -‘No, I have lost it.’ - -Again did Mr. Jordan start up in a fit of rage. He ground his teeth, -and the sweat broke out in drops on his brow. - -‘I had the money with me when the accident happened, and I was thrown -from my horse, and became unconscious. It was lost or taken then.’ - -‘Who was your companion? He must have robbed you.’ - -‘I charge no one. I alone am to blame. The money was entrusted to my -keeping.’ - -‘Why did your father give you the money before the appointed day?’ - -‘When my father recovered part of the money, he would no longer keep it -in his possession, lest he should again lose it; so he bade me take it -to you at once.’ - -‘You have spent the money, you have spent it yourself!’ cried Mr. -Jordan wildly. - -‘If I had done this, should I have come to you to-day with this -confession? I had the money in the pocket-book in notes. The notes were -abstracted from the book. As I was so long insensible, it was too late -to stop them at the bank. Whoever took them had time to change them -all.’ - -‘Cursed be the day I lent the money,’ moaned Ignatius Jordan. ‘The -empty, worthless case returns, the precious contents are gone. What is -the shell without the kernel? My Eve, my Eve!’ He clasped his hands -over his brow. - -‘And now once more hearken to me,’ pursued Jasper. ‘My father cannot -immediately find the money that he owes you. He does not know of this -second loss. I have not communicated with him since I met with my -accident. The blame attaches to me. I must do what I can to make amends -for my carelessness. I put myself into your hands. To repay you now, -my father would have to sell the land he bought. I do not think he -could be persuaded to do this, though, perhaps, you might be able to -force him to it. However, as you say the money is for your daughter, -will you allow it to lie where it is for a while? I will undertake, -should it come to me after my father’s death, to sell it or transfer -it, so as to make up to Miss Eve at the rate of five per cent. on the -loan. I will do more. If you will consent to this, I will stay here -and work for you. I have been trained in the country, and know about a -farm. I will act as your foreman, overlooker, or bailiff. I will put my -hand to anything. Reckon what my wage would be. Reckon at the end of -a year whether I have not earned my wage and much more. If you like, -I will work for you as long as my father lives; I will serve you now -faithfully as no hired bailiff would serve you. My presence here will -be a guarantee to you that I will be true to my undertaking to repay -the whole sum with interest. I can see that this estate needs an active -man on it; and you, sir, are too advanced in age, and too much given up -to scientific pursuits, to cope with what is required.’ - -Those words, ‘scientific pursuits,’ softened Mr. Jordan. Jasper spoke -in good faith; he had no idea how worthless those pursuits were, how -little true science entered into them. He knew that Mr. Jordan made -mineralogical studies, and he supposed they were well directed. - -‘Order me to do what you will,’ said Jasper, ‘and I will do it, and -will double your gains in the year.’ - -‘I accept,’ said Ignatius Jordan. ‘There is no help for it. I must -accept or be plundered of all.’ - -‘You accept! let us join hands on the bargain.’ - -It was strange; as once before, seventeen years ago, hands had met -in the golden gleam of sun that shot through the window, ratifying a -contract, so was it now. The hands clasped in the sunbeam, and the -reflected light from their illuminated hands smote up into the faces -of the two men, both pale, one with years and care, the other with -sickness. - -Mr. Jordan withdrew his hand, clasped both palms over his face and -wept. ‘Thus it comes,’ he said. ‘The shadow is on me and on my child. -One sorrow follows another.’ - -At that moment Barbara and Eve entered from the court. - -‘Eve! Eve!’ cried the father excitedly, ‘come to me, my angel! my -ill-treated child! my martyr!’ He caught her to his heart, put his -face on her shoulder, and sobbed. ‘My darling, you have had your money -stolen, the money put away for you when you were in the cradle.’ - -‘Who has stolen it, papa?’ asked Barbara. - -‘Look there!’ he cried; ‘Jasper Babb was bringing me the money, and -when he fell from his horse, it was stolen.’ - -Neither Barbara nor Eve spoke. - -‘Now,’ continued Mr. Jordan, ‘he has offered himself as my hind to look -after the farm for me, and promises, if I give him time——’ - -‘Father, you have refused!’ interrupted Barbara. - -‘On the contrary, I have accepted.’ - -‘It cannot, it must not be!’ exclaimed Barbara vehemently. ‘Father, you -do not know what you have done.’ - -‘This is strange language to be addressed by a child to a father,’ said -Mr. Jordan in a tone of irritation. ‘Was there ever so unreasonable a -girl before? This morning you pressed me to engage a bailiff, and now -that Mr. Jasper Babb has volunteered, and I have accepted him, you turn -round and won’t have him.’ - -‘No,’ she said, with quick-drawn breath, ‘I will not. Take anyone but -him. I entreat you, papa. If you have any regard for my opinion, let -him go. For pity’s sake do not allow him to remain here!’ - -‘I have accepted him,’ said her father coldly. ‘Pray what weighty -reasons have you got to induce me to alter my resolve?’ - -Miss Jordan stood thinking; the colour mounted to her forehead, then -her brows contracted. ‘I have none to give,’ she said in a low tone, -greatly confused, with her eyes on the ground. Then, in a moment, she -recovered her self-possession and looked Jasper full in the face, but -without speaking, steadily, sternly. In fact, her heart was beating -so fast, and her breath coming so quick, that she could not speak. -‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said at length, controlling her emotions by a strong -effort of will, ‘I entreat you—go.’ - -He was silent. - -‘I have nursed you; I have given my nights and days to you. You -confessed that I had saved your life. If you have any gratitude in -your heart, if you have any respect for the house that has sheltered -you—go!’ - -‘Barbara,’ said her father, ‘you are a perverse girl. He shall not go. -I insist on his fulfilling his engagement. If he leaves I shall take -legal proceedings against his father to recover the money.’ - -‘Do that rather than retain him.’ - -‘Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, slowly, and with sadness in his voice, -‘it is true that you have saved my life. Your kind hand drew me from -the brink of the grave whither I was descending. I thank you with all -my heart, but I cannot go from my engagement to your father. Through -my fault the money was lost, and I must make what amends I may for my -negligence.’ - -‘Go back to your father.’ - -‘That I cannot do.’ - -She considered with her hand over her lips to hide her agitation. -‘No,’ she said, ‘I understand that. Of course you cannot go back to -your native place and to your home; but you need not stay here.’ Then -suddenly, in a burst of passion, she extended her hands to her father, -‘Papa!’—then to the young man, ‘Mr. Jasper!—Papa, send him away! Mr. -Jasper, do not remain!’ - -The young man was hardly less agitated than herself. He took a couple -of steps towards the door. - -‘Stuff and fiddlesticks!’ shouted Mr. Jordan. ‘He shall not go. I -forbid him.’ - -Jasper turned. ‘Miss Barbara,’ he said, humbly, ‘you are labouring -under a mistake which I must not explain. Forgive me. I stay.’ - -She looked at him with moody anger, and muttered, ‘Knowing what you -do—that I am not blind—that you should dare to settle here under this -_honourable_ roof. It is unjust! it is ungrateful! it is wicked! God -help us! I have done what I could.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -CALLED AWAY. - - -JASPER was installed in Morwell as bailiff in spite of the -remonstrances of Barbara. He was given a room near the gatehouse, and -was attended by Mrs. Davy, but he came for his dinner to the table of -the Jordans. Barbara had done what she could to prevent his becoming an -inmate of the house. She might not tell her father her real reasons for -objecting to the arrangement. - -She was rendered more uneasy a day or two after by receiving news that -an aunt, a sister of her mother, who lived beyond Dartmoor, was dying, -and she was summoned to receive her last sigh. She must leave Morwell, -leave her father and sister in the house with a man whom she thoroughly -mistrusted. Her only comfort was that Jasper was not sufficiently -strong and well to be dangerous. What was he? Was there any truth in -that story he had told her father? She could not believe it, because -it would not fit in with what she already knew. What place had the -convict’s garb in that tale? She turned the narrative about in her -mind, and rejected it. She was inclined to disbelieve in Jasper being -the son of old Mr. Babb. He had assumed the name and invented the story -to deceive her father, and form an excuse for remaining in the house. - -She hardly spoke to Jasper when they met. She was cold and haughty, she -did not look at him; and he made no advances to gain her goodwill. - -When she received the summons to her aunt’s deathbed, knowing that she -must go, she asked where Mr. Babb was, and, hearing that he was in the -barn, went thither with the letter in her hand. - -He had been examining the horse-turned winnowing machine, which was -out of order. As she came to the door he looked up and removed his hat, -making a formal salute. The day was hot; he had been taking the machine -to pieces, and was warm, so he had removed his coat. He at once drew it -on his back again. - -Barbara had a curt, almost rough, manner at times. She was vexed now, -and angry with him, so she spoke shortly, ‘I am summoned to Ashburton. -That is close to Buckfastleigh, where, you say, you lived, to make my -father believe it is your home.’ - -‘Yes, Miss Jordan, that is true.’ - -‘You have not written to your home since you have been with us. At -least—’she hesitated, and slightly coloured—’you have sent no letter -by our boy. Perhaps you were afraid to have it known where you are. -No doubt you were right. It is essential to you that your presence -here should not be known to anyone but your father. A letter might -be opened, or let lie about, and so your whereabouts be discovered. -Supposing your story to be true, that is how I account for your -silence. If it be false——’ - -‘It is not false, Miss Jordan.’ - -‘I am going to Ashburton, I will assure myself of it there. If it be -false I shall break my promise to you, and tell my father everything. I -give you fair warning. If it be true——’ - -‘It is true, dear young lady.’ - -‘Do not be afraid of my disclosing your secret, and putting you in -peril.’ - -‘I am sure you cannot do that,’ he said, with a smile that was sad. ‘If -you go to Buckfastleigh, Miss Jordan, I shall venture to send word by -you to my father where I am, that the money is lost, and what I have -undertaken.’ - -Barbara tossed her head, and flashed an indignant glance at him out of -her brown eyes. - -‘I cannot, I will not be a porter of lies.’ - -‘What lies?’ - -‘You did not lose the money. Why deceive me? I know your object in -lurking here, in the most out-of-the-way nook of England you could -find. You think that here you are safe from pursuit. You made up the -story to impose on my father, and induce him to engage you. O, you are -very honourable! discharging a debt!—I hate crime, but I hate falsehood -even more.’ - -‘You are mistaken, Miss Jordan. The story is true.’ - -‘You have told the whole honest truth?’ - -‘I do not profess to have told the whole truth. What I have told has -been true, though I have not told all.’ - -‘A pinch of truth is often more false than a bushel of lies. It -deceives, the other does not.’ - -‘It is true that I lost the money confided to me. If you are going to -Ashburton, I ask you, as a matter of kindness—I know how kind you can -be, alas, and I know also how cruel—to see my father.’ - -She laughed haughtily. ‘This is a fine proposition. The servant sends -the mistress to do his dirty work. I thank you for the honour.’ She -turned angrily away. - -‘Miss Barbara,’ said Jasper, ‘you are indeed cruel.’ - -‘Am I cruel?’ She turned and faced him again, with a threatening brow. -‘I have reason to be just. Cruel I am not.’ - -‘You were all gentleness at one time, when I was ill. Now——’ - -‘I will not dispute with you. Do you expect to be fed with a spoon -still? When you were ill I treated you as a patient, not more kindly -than I would have treated my deadliest enemy. I acted as duty prompted. -There was no one else to take care of you, that was my motive—my only -motive.’ - -‘When I think of your kindness then, I wish I were sick again.’ - -‘A mean and wicked wish. Tired already, I suppose, of doing _honest_ -work.’ - -‘Miss Barbara,’ he said, ‘pray let me speak.’ - -‘Cruel,’—she recurred to what he had said before, without listening to -his entreaty, ‘It is you who are cruel coming here—you, with the ugly -stain on your life, coming here to hide it in this innocent household. -Would it not be cruel in a man with the plague poison in him to steal -into a home of harmless women and children, and give them all the -pestilence? Had I suspected that you intended making Morwell your -retreat and skulking den, I would never have passed my promise to keep -silence. I would have taken the hateful evidence of what you are in my -hand, and gone to the first constable and bid him arrest you in your -bed.’ - -‘No,’ said Jasper, ‘you would not have done it. I know you better than -you know yourself. Are you lost to all humanity? Surely you feel pity -in your gentle bosom, notwithstanding your bitter words.’ - -‘No,’ she answered, with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, ‘no, I have -pity only for myself, because I was weak enough to take pains to save -your worthless life.’ - -‘Miss Jordan,’ he said, looking sorrowfully at her—and her eyes -fell—’surely I have a right to ask some pity of you. Have you -considered what the temptations must be that beset a young man who has -been roughly handled at home, maltreated by his father, reared without -love—a young man with a soul bounding with hopes, ambition, love of -life, with a heart for pleasure, all which are beaten back and trampled -down by the man who ought to direct them? Can you not understand how a -lad who has been thwarted in every way, without a mother to soothe him -in trouble, and encourage him in good, driven desperate by a father’s -harshness, may break away and transgress? Consider the case of one who -has been taught that everything beautiful—laughter, delight in music, -in art, in nature, a merry gambol, a joyous warble—is sinful; is it not -likely that the outlines of right and wrong would be so blurred in his -conscience, that he might lapse into crime without criminal intent?’ - -‘Are you speaking of yourself, or are you excusing another?’ - -‘I am putting a case.’ - -Barbara sighed involuntarily. Her own father had been unsympathetic. He -had never been actually severe, he had been indifferent. - -‘I can see that there were temptations to one so situated to leave his -home,’ she answered, ‘but this is not a case of truancy, but of crime.’ - -‘You judge without knowing the circumstances.’ - -‘Then tell me all, that I may form a more equitable judgment.’ - -‘I cannot do that now. You shall be told—later.’ - -‘Then I must judge by what I know——’ - -‘By what you guess,’ he said, correcting her. - -‘As you will.’ Her eyes were on the ground. A white spar was there. She -turned it over with her foot, and turned it again. - -She hesitated what to say. - -‘Should you favour me so far as to visit my father,’ said Jasper, ‘I -beg of you one thing most earnestly. Do not mention the name of my -companion—Martin.’ - -‘Why not?’ - -‘He may suspect him of having robbed me. My father is an energetic, -resolute man. He might pursue him, and I alone am to blame. I lost the -money.’ - -‘Who was that Martin?’ - -‘He told you—that I was nothing to him.’ - -‘Then why do you seek to screen him?’ - -‘Can I say that he took the money? If my father gets him arrested—I -shall be found.’ - -Barbara laughed bitterly. - -‘Of course, the innocent must not be brought into suspicion because he -has ridden an hour alongside of the guilty. No! I will say nothing of -Martin.’ - -She was still turning over the piece of spar with her foot. It sparkled -in the sun. - -‘How are you going to Ashburton, Miss Jordan?’ - -‘I ride, and little John Ostler rides with me, conveying my -portmanteau.’ - -Then she trifled with the spar again. There was some peacock copper on -it that glistened with all the colours of the rainbow. Abruptly, at -length, she turned away and went indoors. - -Next morning early she came in her habit to the gate where the boy who -was to accompany her held the horses. She had not seen Jasper that -morning, but she knew where he was. He had gone along the lane toward -the common to set the men to repair fences and hedges, as the cattle -that strayed on the waste-land had broken into the wheat field. - -She rode along the lane in meditative mood. She saw Jasper awaiting her -on the down, near an old quarry, the rubble heap from which was now -blazing with gorse in full bloom. She drew rein, and said, ‘I am going -to Ashburton. I will take your message, not because you asked me, but -because I doubt the truth of your story.’ - -‘Very well, Miss Jordan,’ he said respectfully; ‘I thank you, whatever -your motive may be.’ - -‘I expect and desire no thanks,’ she answered, and whipped her horse, -that started forward. - -‘I wish you a favourable journey,’ he said. ‘Good-bye.’ - -She did not turn her head or respond. She was very angry with him. She -stooped over her pommel and buckled the strap of the little pocket -in the leather for her kerchief. But, before she had ridden far, an -intervening gorse bush forced her to bend her horse aside, and then -she looked back, without appearing to look, looked back out of her -eye-corners. Jasper stood where she had left him, with his hat in his -hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -MR. BABB AT HOME. - - -A LOVELY July day in the fresh air of Dartmoor, that seems to sparkle -as it enters the lungs: fresh, but given a sharpness of salt: pure, -but tinged with the sweetness of heather bloom and the honey of gorse. -Human spirits bound in this air. The scenery of Dartmoor, if bare of -trees, is wildly picturesque with granite masses and bold mountain -peaks. Barbara could not shake off the anxiety that enveloped her -spirits like the haze of a valley till she rose up a long ascent of -three miles from the wooded valley of the Tavy to the bald, rock-strewn -expanse of Dartmoor. She rode on, attended by her little groom, till -she reached Prince’s Town, the highest point attained by the road, -where, in a desolate plain of bog, but little below the crests of -some of the granite tors, stands a prison surrounded by a few mean -houses. From Prince’s Town Barbara would have a rough moor-path, not -a good road, before her; and, as the horses were exhausted with their -long climb, she halted at the little inn, and ordered some dinner for -herself, and required that the boy and the horses should be attended to. - -Whilst ham and eggs—nothing else was procurable—were being fried, -Barbara walked along the road to the prison, and looked at the gloomy, -rugged gate built of untrimmed granite blocks. The unbroken desolation -swept to the very walls of the prison.[1] At that height the wind moans -among the rocks and rushes mournfully; the air is never still. The -landlady of the inn came to her. - -‘That is the jail,’ she said. ‘There was a prisoner broke out not long -ago, and he has not yet been caught. How he managed it none can tell. -Where he now is no one knows. He may be still wandering on the moor. -Every road from it is watched. Perhaps he may give himself up, finding -escape impossible. If not, he will die of hunger among the rocks.’ - -‘What was the crime for which he was here?’ asked Barbara; but she -spoke with an effort. - -‘He was a bad man; it was no ordinary wickedness he committed. He -robbed his own father.’ - -‘His own father!’ echoed Barbara, starting. - -‘Yes, he robbed him of nigh on two thousand pounds. The father acted -sharp, and had him caught before he had spent all the money. The -assizes were next week, so it was quick work; and here he was for a few -days, and then—he got away.’ - -‘Robbed his own father!’ murmured Barbara, and now she thought she saw -more clearly than before into a matter that looked blacker the more she -saw. - -‘There’s a man in yonder who set fire to his house to get the -insurance. Folks say his house was but a rummagy old place. ‘Tis a -pity. Now, if he had got away it would not have mattered; but, a -rascal who did not respect his own father!—not that I hold with a man -prosecuting his own son. That was hard. Still, if one was to escape, I -don’t see why the Lord blessed the undertaking of the man who robbed -his father, and turned His face away from him who only fired his house -to get the insurance.’ - -The air ceased to sparkle as Miss Jordan rode the second stage of her -journey: the sun was less bright, the fragrance of the gorse less -sweet. She did not speak to her young groom the whole way, but rode -silently, with compressed lips and moody brow. The case was worse than -she had anticipated. Jasper had robbed his father, and all that story -of his coming as a messenger from Mr. Babb with the money was false. - -One evening, unattended, Barbara Jordan rode to Buckfastleigh, asked -for the house of Mr. Babb, and dismounted at the door. The house was -a plain, ugly, square modern erection, almost an insult to the beauty -of the surroundings. The drive from the entrance gate was grass-grown. -There was a stucco porch. The door was painted drab, and the paint was -blistered, and had flaked off. The house also was mottled. It had been -painted over plaster and cement, and the paint had curled and come off -in patches. The whole place had an uncared-for look. There were no -flower beds, no creepers against the walls; the rain-shoots to the roof -were choked, and the overflowing water had covered the walls where it -reached with slime, black and green. At the back of the house was a -factory, worked by a water-wheel, for cloth, and a gravel well-trodden -path led from the back door of the house to the factory. - -Barbara had descended from her cob to open the gate into the drive; and -she walked up to the front door, leading her horse. There she rang the -bell, but had doubts whether the wire were sound. She waited a long -time, and no one responded. She tried the bell again, and then rapped -with the handle of her whip against the door. - -Then she saw a face appear at a side window, observe her and withdraw. -A moment after, a shuffling tread sounded in the hall, chains and bolts -were undone, the door was cautiously opened, and in it stood an old man -with white hair, and black beady eyes. - -‘What do you want? Who are you?’ he asked. - -‘Am I speaking to Mr. Babb?’ - -‘Yes, you are.’ - -‘May I have a few words with you in private?’ - -‘Oh, there is no one in the house, except my housekeeper, and she is -deaf. You can say what you want here.’ - -‘Who is there to take my horse?’ - -‘You can hold him by the bridle, and talk to me where you stand. -There’s no occasion for you to come in.’ - -Barbara saw into the hall; it was floored with stone, the Buckfastleigh -marble, but unpolished. The walls had been papered with glazed -imitation panelling, but the paper had peeled off, and hung in strips. -A chair with wooden seat, that had not been wiped for weeks, a set of -coat and hat pegs, some broken, on one a very discoloured great coat -and a battered hat. In a corner a bulging green umbrella, the silk -detached from the whalebone. - -‘You see,’ said the old man grimly, half turning, as he noticed that -Barbara’s eyes were observing the interior; ‘you see, this is no place -for ladies. It is a weaving spider’s web, not a gallant’s bower.’ - -‘But——’ the girl hesitated, ‘what I have to say is very particular, and -I would not be overheard on any account.’ - -‘Ah! ah!’ he giggled, ‘I’ll have no games played with me. I’m no longer -susceptible to fascination, and I ain’t worth it; on my sacred word I’m -not. I’m very poor, very poor now. You can see it for yourself. Is this -house kept up, and the garden? Does the hall look like a lap of luxury? -I’m too poor to be a catch, so you may go away.’ - -Barbara would have laughed had not the nature of her visit been so -serious. - -‘I am Miss Jordan,’ she said, ‘daughter of Mr. Jordan of Morwell, from -whom you borrowed money seventeen years ago.’ - -‘Oh!’ he gave a start of surprise. ‘Ah, well, I have sent back as much -as I could spare. Some was stolen. It is not convenient to me after -this reverse to find all now.’ - -‘My father has received nothing. What you sent was lost or stolen on -the way.’ - -The old man’s jaw fell, and he stared blankly at her. - -‘It is as I say. My father has received nothing.’ - -‘I sent it by my son.’ - -‘He has lost it.’ - -‘It is false. He has stolen it.’ - -‘What is to be done?’ - -‘Oh, that is for your father to decide. When my son robbed me, I -locked him up. Now let your father see to it. I have done my duty, my -conscience is clear.’ - -Barbara looked steadily, with some curiosity, into his face. The face -was repulsive. The strongly marked features which might have been -handsome in youth, were exaggerated by age. His white hair was matted -and uncombed. He had run his fingers through it whilst engaged on his -accounts, and had divided it into rat’s-tails. His chin and jaws were -frouzy with coarse white bristles. In his black eyes was a keen twinkle -of avarice and cunning. Old age and the snows of the winter of life -soften a harsh face, if there be any love in it; but in this there was -none. If a fire had burnt on the hearth of the old man’s heart, not a -spark remained alive, the hearth was choked with grey ashes. Barbara -traced a resemblance between the old man and his son. From his father, -Jasper had derived his aquiline nose, and the shape of mouth and chin. -But the expression of the faces was different. That of Jasper was -noble, that of his father mean. The eyes of the son were gentle, those -of Mr. Babb hard as pebbles that had been polished. - -As Barbara talked with and observed the old man she recalled what -Jasper had said of ill-treatment and lack of love. There was no -tenderness to be got out of such a man as that before her. - -‘Now look you here,’ said Mr. Babb. ‘Do you see that stretch of field -yonder where the cloth is strained in the sun? Very well. That cloth is -mine. It is woven in my mill yonder. That field was purchased seventeen -years ago for my accommodation. I can’t repay the money now without -selling the factory or the field, and neither is worth a shilling -without the other. No—we must all put up with losses. I have mine; the -Lord sends your father his. A wise Providence orders all that. Tell -him so. His heart has been hankering after mammon, and now Heaven has -deprived him of it. I’ve had losses too. I’ve learned to bear them. So -must he. What is your name?—I mean your Christian name?’ - -‘Barbara.’ - -‘Oh! not Eve—dear, no. You don’t look as if that were your name.’ - -‘Eve is my sister—my half-sister.’ - -‘Ah, ha! the elder daughter. And what has become of the little one?’ - -‘She is well, at home, and beautiful as she is good. She is not at all -like me.’ - -‘That is a good job—for you. I mean, that you are not like her. Is she -lively?’ - -‘Oh, like a lark, singing, dancing, merry.’ - -‘Of course, thoughtless, light, a feather that flies and tosses in the -breath.’ - -‘To return to the money. It was to have been my sister’s.’ - -‘Well,’ said the old man with a giggle, ‘let it so remain. It _was_ to -have been. Now it cannot be. Whose fault is that? Not mine. I kept the -money for your father. I am a man of my word. When I make a covenant I -do not break it. But my son—my son!’ - -‘Your son is now with us.’ - -‘You say he has stolen the money. Let your father not spare him. There -is no good in being lenient. Be just. When my son robbed me, I did not -spare him. I will not lift a little finger to save Jasper, who now, as -you say, has robbed your father. Wait where you are; I will run in, and -write something, which will perhaps satisfy Mr. Jordan; wait here, you -cannot enter, or your horse would run away. What did you give for that -cob? not much. Do you want to sell him? I don’t mind ten pounds. He’s -not worth more. See how he hangs his off hind leg. That’s a blemish -that would stand in your way of selling. Would you like to go over -the factory? No charge, you can tip the foreman a shilling. No cloth -weaving your way, only wool growing; and—judging from what I saw of -your father—wool-gathering.’ With a cackle the old man slipped in and -shut the door in Barbara’s face. - -Miss Jordan stood patting the neck of her disparaged horse. ‘You are -not to be parted with, are you, Jock, to an old skinflint who would -starve you?’ - -The cob put his nose on her shoulder, and rubbed it. She looked round. -Everything spoke of sordidness, only the factory seemed cared for, -where money was made. None was wasted on the adornment, even on the -decencies, of life. - -The door opened. Mr. Babb had locked it after him as he went in. He -came out with a folded letter in his hand. - -‘Here,’ he said, ‘give that to your father.’ - -‘I must tell you, Mr. Babb, that your son Jasper is with us. He -professes to have lost the money. He met with an accident and was -nearly killed. He remains with us, as a sort of steward to my father, -for a while, only for a while.’ - -‘Let him stay. I don’t want him back, I won’t have him back. I dare -say, now, it would do him good to have his Bible. I’ll give you that to -take to him. He may read and come to repentance.’ - -‘It is possible that there may be other things of his he will want. If -you can make them up into a bundle, I will send for them. No,’ she said -after a pause, ‘I will not send for them. I will take them myself.’ - -‘You will not mind staying there whilst I fetch them?’ said Mr. Babb. -‘Of course you won’t. You have the horse to hold. If you like to take a -look round the garden you may, but there is nothing to see. Visit the -mill if you like. You can give twopence to a boy to hold the horse.’ -Then he slipped in again and relocked the door. - -Barbara was only detained ten minutes. Mr. Babb came back with a jumble -of clothes, a Bible, and a violin, not tied together, but in his arms -anyhow. He threw everything on the doorstep. - -‘There,’ he said, ‘I will hold the bridle, whilst you make this into -a bundle. I’m not natty with my fingers.’ He took the horse from her. -Barbara knelt under the portico and folded Jasper’s clothes, and tied -all together in an old table cover the father gave for the purpose. -‘Take the fiddle,’ he said, ‘or I’ll smash it.’ - -She looked up at him gravely, whilst knotting the ends. - -‘Have you a message for your son—of love and forgiveness?’ - -‘Forgiveness! it is your father he has robbed. Love——There is no love -lost between us.’ - -‘He is lonely and sad,’ said Barbara, not now looking up, but busy with -her hands, tightening the knots and intent on the bundle. ‘I can see -that his heart is aching; night and day there is a gnawing pain in his -breast. No one loves him, and he seems to me to be a man who craves for -love, who might be reclaimed by love.’ - -‘Don’t forget the letter for your father,’ said Mr. Babb. - -‘What about your son? Have you no message for him?’ - -‘None. Mind that envelope. What it contains is precious.’ - -‘Is it a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds?’ - -‘Oh, dear me, no! It is a text of scripture.’ - -Then, hastily, Mr. Babb stepped back, shut the door, and bolted and -chained it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A SINE QUÂ NON. - - -BARBARA was on her way home from Ashburton. She had attended her aunt’s -funeral, and knew that a little sum of about fifty pounds per annum -was hers, left her by her aunt. She was occupied with her thoughts. -Was there any justification for Jasper? The father was hateful. She -could excuse his leaving home; that was nothing; such a home must be -intolerable to a young man of spirit—but to rob his father was another -matter. Barbara could not quite riddle the puzzle out in her mind. It -was clear that Mr. Babb had confided the fifteen hundred pounds to -Jasper, and that Jasper had made away with them. He had been taken and -sent to prison at Prince’s Town. Thence he had escaped, and whilst -escaping had met with the accident which had brought him to become an -inmate of Morwell House. Jasper’s story that he had lost the money was -false. He had himself taken it. Barbara could not quite make it out; -she tried to put it from her. What mattered it how the robbery had been -committed?—sufficient that the man who took the money was with her -father. What had he done with the money? That no one but himself could -tell, and that she would not ask him. - -It was vain crying over spilt milk. Fifteen hundred pounds were gone, -and the loss of that money might affect Eve’s prospects. Eve was -already attracting admiration, but who would take her for her beauty -alone? Eve, Barbara said to herself, was a jewel that must be kept in a -velvet and morocco case, and must not be put to rough usage. She must -have money. She must marry where nothing would be required of her but -to look and be—charming. - -It was clear to Barbara that Mr. Coyshe was struck with her sister, and -Mr. Coyshe was a promising, pushing man, sure to make his way. If a man -has a high opinion of himself he impresses others with belief in him. -Mr. Jordan was loud in his praises; Barbara had sufficient sense to -dislike his boasting, but she was influenced by it. Though his manner -was not to her taste, she was convinced that Mr. Coyshe was a genius, -and a man whose name would be known through England. - -What was to be done? The only thing she could think of was to insist on -her father making over Morwell to Eve on his death; as for herself—she -had her fifty pounds, and she could go as housekeeper to some lady; the -Duchess of Bedford would recommend her. _She_ was was not likely to be -thought of by any man with only fifty pounds, and with a plain face. - -When Barbara reached this point she laughed, and then she sighed. She -laughed because the idea of her being married was so absurd. She sighed -because she was tired. Just then, quite uncalled for and unexpected, -the form of Jasper Babb rose up before her mind’s eye, as she had last -seen him, pale, looking after her, waving his hat. - -She was returning to him without a word from his father, of -forgiveness, of encouragement, of love. She was scheming a future for -herself and for Eve; Jasper had no future, only a horrible past, which -cast its shadow forward, and took all hope out of the present, and -blighted the future. If she could but have brought him a kind message -it would have inspired him to redeem his great fault, to persevere in -well-doing. She knew that she would find him watching for her return -with a wistful look in his dark full eyes, asking her if she brought -him consolation. - -Then she reproached herself because she had left his parting farewell -unacknowledged. She had been ungracious; no doubt she had hurt his -feelings. - -She had passed through Tavistock, with her groom riding some way -behind her, when she heard the sound of a trotting horse, and almost -immediately a well-known voice called, ‘Glad to see your face turned -homewards, Miss Jordan.’ - -‘Good evening, Mr. Coyshe.’ - -‘Our roads run together, to my advantage. What is that you are -carrying? Can I relieve you?’ - -‘A violin. The boy is careless, he might let it fall. Besides he is -burdened with my valise and a bundle.’ - -‘What? has your aunt bequeathed a violin to you?’ - -A little colour came into Barbara’s cheeks, and she answered, ‘I am -bringing it home from over the moor.’ She blushed to have to equivocate. - -‘I hope you have had something more substantial left you than an old -fiddle,’ said the surgeon. - -‘Thank you, my poor aunt has been good enough to leave me something -comfortable, which will enable my dear father to make up to Eve for the -sum that has been lost.’ - -‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Mr. Coyshe. ‘Charmed!’ - -‘By the way,’ Barbara began, ‘I wanted to say something to you, but I -have not had the opportunity. You were quite in the wrong about the -saucer of sour milk, though I admit there was a stocking—but how you -saw that, passes my comprehension.’ - -‘I did not see it, I divined it,’ said the young man, with his -protruding light eyes staring at her with an odd mischievous expression -in them. ‘It is part of the mysteries of medicine—a faculty akin to -inspiration in some doctors, that they see with their inner eyes what -is invisible to the outer eye. For instance, I can see right into your -heart, and I see there something that looks to me very much like the -wound I patched up in Mr. Jasper’s pate. Whilst his has been healing, -yours has been growing worse.’ - -Barbara turned cold and shivered. ‘For heaven’s sake, Mr. Coyshe, do -not say such things; you frighten me.’ - -He laughed. - -She remained silent, uneasy and vexed. Presently she said, ‘It is not -true; there is nothing the matter with me.’ - -‘But the stocking was under the sofa-cushion, and you said, Not true, -at first. Wait and look.’ - -‘Doctor, it is not true at all. That is, I have a sort of trouble or -pain, but it is all about Eve. I have been very unhappy about the loss -of her money, and that has fretted me greatly.’ - -‘I foresaw it would be lost.’ - -‘Yes, it is lost, but Eve shall be no loser.’ - -‘Look here, Miss Jordan, a beautiful face is like a beautiful song, -charming in itself, but infinitely better with an accompaniment.’ - -‘What do you mean, Mr. Coyshe?’ - -‘A sweet girl may have beauty and amiability, but though these may be -excellent legs for the matrimonial stool, a third must be added to -prevent an upset, and that—metallic.’ - -Barbara made no reply. The audacity and impudence of the young surgeon -took the power to reply from her. - -‘You have not given me that fiddle,’ said Coyshe. - -‘I am not sure you will carry it carefully,’ answered Barbara; -nevertheless she resigned it to him. ‘When you part from me let the boy -have it. I will not ride into Morwell cumbered with it.’ - -‘A doctor,’ said Coyshe, ‘if he is to succeed in his profession, must -be endowed with instinct as well as science. A cat does not know what -ails it, but it knows when it is out of sorts; instinct teaches it to -swallow a blade of grass. Instinct with us discovers the disorder, -science points out the remedy. I may say without boasting that I am -brimming with instinct—you have had a specimen or two—and I have passed -splendid examinations, so that testifies to my science. Beer Alston -cannot retain me long, my proper sphere is London. I understand the -Duke has heard of me, and said to someone whom I will not name, that -if I come to town he will introduce me. If once started on the rails -I must run to success. Now I want a word with you in confidence, Miss -Jordan. That boy is sufficiently in the rear not to hear. You will be -mum, I trust?’ - -Barbara slightly nodded her assent. - -‘I confess to you that I have been struck with your sister, Miss Eve. -Who could fail to see her and not become a worshipper? She is a radiant -star; I have never seen anyone so beautiful, and she is as good as she -is beautiful.’ - -‘Indeed, indeed she is,’ said Barbara, earnestly. - -‘Montecuculli said,’ continued the surgeon, ‘that in war three things -are necessary: money; secondly, money; thirdly, money. In love it is -the same. We may regret it, but it is undeniable.’ - -Barbara did not know what to say. The assurance of the young man -imposed on her; she did not like him particularly, but he was superior -in culture to most of the young men she knew, who had no ideas beyond -hunting and shooting. - -After a little while of consideration, she said, ‘Do you think you -would make Eve happy?’ - -‘I am sure of it. I have all the instincts of the family-man in me. A -man may marry a score of times and be father of fifty children, without -instinct developing the special features of domesticity. They are born -in a man, not acquired. _Pater-familias nascitur, non fit._’ - -‘Have you spoken to my father?’ - -‘No, not yet; I am only feeling my way. I don’t mind telling you what -brought me into notice with the Duke. He was ill last autumn when down -at Endsleigh for the shooting, and his physician was sent for. I met -the doctor at the Bedford Inn at Tavistock; some of us of the faculty -had an evening together, and his Grace’s condition was discussed, -casually of course. I said nothing. We were smoking and drinking rum -and water. There was something in his Grace’s condition which puzzled -his physician, and he clearly did not understand how to treat the case. -_I_ knew. I have instinct. Some rum had been spilled on the table; I -dipped the end of my pipe in it, and scribbled a prescription on the -mahogany. I saw the eye of the doctor on it. I have reason to believe -he used my remedy. It answered. He is not ungrateful. I say no more. A -city set on a hill cannot be hid. Beer Alston is a bushel covering a -light. Wait.’ - -Barbara said nothing. She rode on, deep in thought. The surgeon jogged -at her side, his protruding water-blue eyes peering in all directions. - -‘You think your sister will not be penniless?’ he said. - -‘I am certain she will not. Now that my aunt has provided for me, Eve -will have Morwell after my father’s death, and I am sure she is welcome -to what comes to me from my aunt till then.’ - -‘Halt!’ exclaimed the surgeon. - -Barbara drew rein simultaneously with Mr. Coyshe. - -‘Who are you there, watching, following us, skulking behind bushes and -hedges?’ shouted Coyshe. - -‘What is it?’ asked Miss Jordan, surprised and alarmed. - -The surgeon did not answer, but raised to his shoulder a stick he -carried. - -‘Answer! Who are you? Show yourself, or I fire!’ - -‘Doctor Coyshe,’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘forbear in pity!’ - -‘My dear Miss Jordan,’ he said in a low tone, ‘set your mind at rest. I -have only an umbrella stick, of which all the apparatus is blown away -except the catch. Who is there?’ he cried, again presenting his stick. - -‘Once, twice!’—click went the catch. ‘If I call three and fire, your -blood be on your own head!’ - -There issued in response a scream, piercing in its shrillness, inhuman -in its tone. - -Barbara shuddered, and her horse plunged. - -A mocking burst of laughter ensued, and then forth from the bushes -into the road leaped an impish boy, who drew a bow over the catgut of -a fiddle under his chin, and ran along before them, laughing, leaping, -and evoking uncouth and shrill screams from his instrument. - -‘A pixy,’ said the surgeon. ‘I knew by instinct one was dodging us. -Fortunately I could not lay my hand on a riding whip this morning, and -so took my old umbrella stick. Now, farewell. So you think Miss Eve -will have Morwell, and the matrimonial stool its golden leg? That is -right.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -AT THE QUAY. - - -ON the day of Barbara’s departure Eve attended diligently to the duties -of the house, and found that everything was in such order that she -was content to believe that all would go on of its own accord in the -old way, without her supervision, which declined next day, and was -pretermitted on the third. - -Jasper did not appear for mid-day dinner; he was busy on the old quay. -He saw that it must be put to rights. The woods could be thinned, the -coppice shredded for bark, and bark put on a barge at the bottom of the -almost precipitous slope, and so sent to the tanyards at Devonport. -There was waste of labour in carrying the bark up the hills and then -carting it to Beer Ferris, some ten miles. - -No wonder that, as Mr. Jordan complained, the bark was unremunerative. -The profit was eaten up by the wasteful transport. It was the same with -the timber. There was demand for oak and pine at the dockyards, and any -amount was grown in the woods of Morwell. - -So Jasper asked leave to have the quay put to rights, and Mr. Jordan -consented. He must supervise proceedings himself, so he remained the -greater part of the day by the river edge. The ascent to Morwell House -was arduous if attempted directly up the steep fall, long if he went by -the zigzag through the wood. It would take him a stiff three-quarters -of an hour to reach the house and half-an-hour to return. Accordingly -he asked that his dinner might be sent him. - -On the third day, to Eve’s dismay, she found that she had forgotten to -let him have his food, both that day and the preceding. He had made no -remark when he came back the day before. Eve’s conscience smote her—a -convalescent left for nine or ten hours without food. - -When she recalled her promise to send it him she found that there was -no one to send. In shame and self-reproach, she packed a little basket, -and resolved to carry it to him. The day was lovely. She put her -broad-brimmed straw hat, trimmed with forget-me-not bows, on her head, -and started on her walk. - -The bank of the Tamar falls from high moorland many hundreds of feet -to the water’s edge. In some places the rocks rise in sheer precipices -with gullies of coppice and heather between them. Elsewhere the fall -is less abrupt, and allows trees to grow, and the richness of the soil -and the friable nature of the rock allows them to grow to considerable -dimensions. From Morwell House a long _détour_ through beautiful -forest, affording peeps of mountains and water, gave the easiest -descent to the quay, but Eve reserved this road for the ascent, and -slid merrily down the narrow corkscrew path in the brushwood between -the crags, which afforded the quickest way down to the water’s edge. - -‘Oh, Mr. Jasper!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have sinned, through my -forgetfulness; but see, to make amends, I have brought you a little -bottle of papa’s Burgundy and a wee pot of red currant jelly for the -cold mutton.’ - -‘And you have come yourself to overwhelm me with a sense of gratitude.’ - -‘Oh, Mr. Jasper, I am so ashamed of my naughtiness. I assure you I -nearly cried. Bab—I mean Barbara—would never have forgotten. She -remembers everything. Her head is a perfect store-closet, where all -things are in place and measured and weighed and on their proper -shelves. You had no dinner yesterday.’ - -‘To-day’s is a banquet that makes up for all deficiencies.’ - -Eve liked Jasper; she had few to converse with, very few acquaintances, -no friends, and she was delighted to be able to have a chat with -anyone, especially if that person flattered her—and who did not? -Everyone naturally offered incense before her; she almost demanded it -as a right. The Tamar formed a little bay under a wall of rock. A few -ruins marked the site of the storehouses and boatsheds of the abbots. -The sun glittered on the water, forming of it a blazing mirror, and the -dancing light was reflected back by the flower-wreathed rocks. - -‘Where are the men?’ asked Eve. - -‘Gone into the wood to fell some pines. We must drive piles into the -bed of the river, and lay beams on them for a basement.’ - -‘Oh,’ said Eve listlessly, ‘I don’t understand about basements and -all that.’ She seated herself on a log. ‘How pleasant it is here with -the flicker of the water in one’s face and eyes, and a sense of being -without shadow! Mr. Jasper, do you believe in pixies?’ - -‘What do you mean, Miss?’ - -‘The little imps who live in the mines and on the moors, and play -mischievous tricks on mortals. They have the nature of spirits, and -yet they have human shapes, and are like old men or boys. They watch -treasures and veins of ore, and when mortals approach the metal, they -decoy the trespassers away.’ - -‘Like the lapwing that pretends to be wounded, and so lures you from -its precious eggs. Do _you_ believe in pixies?’ - -Eve laughed and shook her pretty head. ‘I think so, Mr. Jasper, for I -have seen one.’ - -‘What was he like?’ - -‘I do not know, I only caught glimpses of him. Do not laugh -satirically. I am serious. I did see something, but I don’t know -exactly what I saw.’ - -‘That is not a very convincing reason for the existence of pixies.’ - -Eve drew her little feet together, and folded her arms in her lap, and -smiled, and tossed her head. She had taken off her hat, and the sun -glorified her shining head. - -Jasper looked admiringly at her. - -‘Are you not afraid of a sunstroke, Miss Eve?’ - -‘O dear no! The sun cannot harm me. I love him so passionately. O Mr. -Jasper! I wish sometimes I lived far away in another country where -there are no wet days and grey skies and muggy atmospheres, and where -the hedges do not drip, and the lanes do not stand ankle deep in mud, -and the old walls exude moisture indoors, and one’s pretty shoes do not -go mouldy if not wiped over daily. I should like to be in a land like -Italy, where all the people sing and dance and keep holiday, and the -bells in the towers are ever ringing, and the lads have bunches of gold -and silver flowers in their hats, and the girls have scarlet skirts, -and the village musicians sit in a cart adorned with birch branches -and ribands and roses, and the trumpets go tu-tu! and the drums -bung-bung!—I have read about it, and cried for vexation that I was not -there.’ - -‘But the pixy?’ - -‘I would banish all pixies and black Copplestones and Whish hounds; -they belong to rocks and moors and darkness and storm. I hate gloom and -isolation.’ - -‘You are happy at Morwell, Miss Eve. One has but to look in your face -and see it. Not a crabbed line of care, not the track of a tear, all -smoothness and smiles.’ - -The girl twinkled with pleasure, and said, ‘That is because we are -in midsummer; wait till winter and see what becomes of me. Then I am -sad enough. We are shut in for five months—six months—seven almost, -by mud and water. O, how the winds howl! How the trees toss and roar! -How the rain patters! That is not pleasant. I wish, I do wish, I were -a squirrel; then I would coil myself in a corner lined with moss, and -crack nuts in a doze till the sun came again and woke me up with the -flowers. Then I would throw out all my cracked nutshells with both -paws, and leap to the foot of a tree, run up it, and skip from branch -to branch, and swing in the summer sunshine on the topmost twig. O, Mr. -Jasper, how much wiser than we the swallows are! I would rather be a -swallow than a squirrel, and sail away when I felt the first frost to -the land of eternal summer, into the blazing eye of the sun.’ - -‘But as you have no wings——’ - -‘I sit and mope and talk to Barbara about cows and cabbages, and to -father about any nonsense that comes into my head.’ - -‘As yet you have given me no description of the pixy.’ - -‘How can I, when I scarce saw him? I will tell you exactly what -happened, if you will not curl up the corner of your lips, as though -mocking me. That papa never does. I tell him all the rhodomontade I -can, and he listens gravely, and frightens and abashes me sometimes by -swallowing it whole.’ - -‘Where did you see, or not see, the pixy?’ - -‘On my way to you. I heard something stirring in the wood, and I half -saw what I took to be a boy, or a little man the size of a boy. When I -stood still, he stood; when I moved, I fancied he moved. I heard the -crackle of sticks and the stir of the bushes. I am sure of nothing.’ - -‘Were you frightened?’ - -‘No; puzzled, not frightened. If this had occurred at night, it would -have been different. I thought it might have been a red-deer; they are -here sometimes, strayed from Exmoor, and have such pretty heads and -soft eyes; but this was not. I fancied once I saw a queer little face -peering at me from behind a pine tree. I uttered a feeble cry and ran -on.’ - -‘I know exactly what it was,’ said Jasper, with a grave smile. ‘There -is a pixy lives in the Raven Rock; he has a smithy far down in the -heart of the cliff, and there he works all winter at a vein of pure -gold, hammering and turning the golden cups and marsh marigolds with -which to strew the pastures and watercourses in spring. But it is -dull for the pixy sitting alone without light; he has no one to love -and care for him, and, though the gold glows in his forge, his little -heart is cold. He has been dreaming all winter of a sweet fairy he saw -last summer wearing a crown of marigold, wading in cuckoo flowers, and -now he has come forth to capture that fairy and draw her down into his -stony palace.’ - -‘To waste her days,’ laughed Eve, ‘in sighing for the sun, whilst her -roses wither and her eyes grow dim, away from the twitter of the birds -and the scent of the gorse. He shan’t have me.’ Then, after a pause, -during which she gathered some marigolds and put them into her hat, she -said, half seriously, half jestingly, ‘Do you believe in pixies?’ - -‘You must not ask me. I have seen but one fairy in all my life, and she -now sits before me.’ - -‘Mr. Jasper,’ said Eve, with a dimple in her cheek, in recognition of -the compliment,—’Mr. Jasper, do you know my mother is a mystery to me -as much as pixies and fairies and white ladies?’ - -‘No, I was not aware of that.’ - -‘She was called, like me, Eve.’ - -‘I had a sister of that name who is dead, and my mother’s name was Eve. -She is dead.’ - -‘I did not think the name was so common,’ said the girl. ‘I fancied we -were the only two Eves that ever were. I do not know what my mother’s -other name was. Is not that extraordinary?’ - -Jasper Babb made no reply. - -‘I have been reading “Undine.” Have you read that story? O, it has made -me so excited. The writer says that it was founded on what he read in -an old author, and that author, Paracelsus, is one papa believes in. -So, I suppose, there is some truth in the tale. The story of my mother -is quite like that of Undine. One night my father heard a cry on the -moor, and he went to the place, and found my mother all alone. She -was with him for a year and a day, and would have stayed longer if my -father could have refrained from asking her name. When he did that she -was forced to leave him. She was never seen again.’ - -‘Miss Eve, this cannot be true.’ - -‘I do not know. That is what old Betsy Davy told me. Papa never speaks -of her. He has been an altered man since she left him. He put up the -stone cross on the moor at the spot where he found her. I like to fancy -there was something mysterious in her. I can’t ask papa, and Bab was—I -mean Barbara—was too young at the time to remember anything about it.’ - -‘This is very strange.’ - -‘Betsy Davy says that my father was not properly married to her, -because he could not get a priest to perform the ceremony without -knowing what she was.’ - -‘My dear Miss Eve, instead of listening to the cock-and-bull stories——’ - -‘Mr. Jasper! How can you—how can you use such an expression? The -story is very pretty and romantic, and not at all like things of this -century. I dare say there is some truth in it.’ - -‘I am far from any intention of offending you, dear young lady; but I -venture to offer you a piece of advice. Do not listen to idle tales; -do not encourage people of a lower class to speak to you about your -mother; ask your father what you want to know, he will tell you; and -take my word for it, romance there always must be in love, but there -will be nothing of what you imagine, with a fancy set on fire by -“Undine.”’ - -Her volatile mind had flown elsewhere. - -‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘have you ever been to a theatre?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘O, I should like it above everything else. I dream of it. We have -Inchbald’s “British Theatre” in the library, and it is my dearest -reading. Barbara likes a cookery book or a book on farming; I cannot -abide them. Do you know what Mr. Coyshe said the other day when I was -rattling on before him and papa? He said I had missed my vocation, and -ought to have been on the stage. What do you think?’ - -‘I think a loving and merciful Providence has done best to put such a -precious treasure here where it can best be preserved.’ - -‘I don’t agree with you at all,’ said Eve, standing up. ‘I think Mr. -Coyshe showed great sense. Anyhow, I should like to see a theatre—O, -above everything in the world! Papa thinks of Rome or the Holy Land; -but I say—a theatre. I can’t help it; I think it, and must say it. -Good-bye! I have things my sister left that I must attend to. I wish -she were back. Oh, Mr. Jasper, do not you?’ - -‘Everyone will be pleased to welcome her home.’ - -‘Because I have let everything go to sixes and sevens, eh?’ - -‘For her own sake.’ - -‘Well, I do miss her dreadfully, do not you?’ - -He did not answer. She cast him another good-bye, and danced off into -the wood, swinging her hat by the blue ribands. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -WATT. - - -THE air under the pines was balmy. The hot July sun brought out their -resinous fragrance. Gleams of fire fell through the boughs and dappled -the soil at intervals, and on these sun-flakes numerous fritillary -butterflies with silver under-wings were fluttering, and countless -flies were humming. The pines grew only at the bottom of the crags, -and here and there in patches on the slopes. The woods were composed -for the most part of oak, now in its richest, fullest foliage, the -golden hue of early spring changing to the duller green of summer. -Beech also abounded with their clean stems, and the soil beneath them -bare of weed, and here and there a feathery birch with erect silver -stem struggled up in the overgrowth to the light. The wood was full of -foxgloves, spires of pink dappled bells, and of purple columbine. Wild -roses grew wherever a rock allowed them to wreath in sunshine and burst -into abundant bloom over its face. Eve carried her straw hat on her -arm, hung by its blue ribands. She needed its shelter in the wood no -more than in her father’s hall. - -She came to a brook, dribbling and tinkling on its way through moss -and over stone. The path was fringed with blazing marigolds. Eve had -already picked some, she now halted, and brimmed the extemporised -basket with more of the golden flowers. - -The gloom, the fragrant air, the flicker of colour made her think of -the convent chapel at Lanherne, whither she had been sent for her -education, but whence, having pined under the restraint, she had been -speedily removed. As she walked she swung her hat like a censer. From -it rose the fresh odour of flowers, and from it dropped now and then -a marigold like a burning cinder. Scarce thinking what she did, Eve -assumed the slow and measured pace of a religious procession, as she -had seen one at Lanherne, still swinging her hat, and letting the -flowers fall from it whilst she chanted meaningless words to a sacred -strain. Then she caught her straw hat to her, and holding it before her -in her left arm, advanced at a quicker pace, still singing. Now she -dipped her right hand in the crown and strewed the blossoms to left and -right, as did the little girls in the Corpus Christi procession round -the convent grounds at Lanherne. Her song quickened and brightened, -and changed its character as her flighty thoughts shifted to other -topics, and her changeful mood assumed another complexion. Her tune -became that of the duet _Là ci darem la mano_, in ‘Don Giovanni,’ -which she had often sung with her sister. She sang louder and more -joyously, and her feet moved in rhythm to this song, as they had to the -ecclesiastical chant; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed. - -It seemed to her that a delicate echo accompanied her—very soft and -spiritual, now in snatches, then low, rolling, long-drawn-out. She -stopped and listened, then went on again. What she heard was the echo -from the rocks and tree boles. - -But presently the road became steeper, and she could no longer spare -breath for her song; now the sacred chant was quite forgotten, but the -sweet air of Mozart clung to her memory, as the scent of pot-pourri to -a parlour, and there it would linger the rest of the day. - -As she walked on she was in a dream. What must it be to hear these -songs accompanied by instruments, and with light and scenery, and -acting on the stage? Oh, that she could for once in her life have the -supreme felicity of seeing a real play! - -Suddenly a flash of vivid golden light broke before her, the trees -parted, and she stood on the Raven Rock, a precipice that shoots high -above the Tamar and commands a wide prospect over Cornwall—Hingston -Hill, where Athelstan fought and beat the Cornish in the last stand -the Britons made, and Kitt Hill, a dome of moorclad mountain. As she -stepped forth on the rock to enjoy the light and view and air, there -rushed out of the oak and dogwood bushes a weird boy, who capered and -danced, brandished a fiddle, clapped it under his chin, and still -dancing, played _Là ci darem_ fast, faster, till his little arms went -faster than Eve could see. - -The girl stood still, petrified with terror. Here was the Pixy of the -Raven Rock Jasper had spoken of. The malicious boy saw and revelled in -her fear, and gambolled round her, grimacing and still fiddling till -his tune led up to and finished in a shriek. - -‘There, there,’ said he, at length, lowering the violin and bow; ‘how I -have scared you, Eve!’ - -Eve trembled in every limb, and was too alarmed to speak. The scenery, -the rock, the boy, swam in a blue haze before her eyes. - -‘There, Eve, don’t be frightened. You led me on with your singing. I -followed in your flowery traces. Don’t you know me?’ - -Eve shook her head. She could not speak. - -‘You have seen me. You saw me that night when I came riding over your -downs at the back of Martin, when poor Jasper fell—you remember me. -I smashed your rattletrap gig. What a piece of good luck it was that -Jasper’s horse went down and not ours. I might have broken my fiddle. -I’d rather break a leg, especially that of another person.’ - -Eve had not thought of the boy since that eventful night. Indeed, she -had seen little of him then. - -‘I remember,’ she said, ‘there was a boy.’ - -‘Myself. Watt is my name, or in full, Walter. If you doubt my humanity -touch my hand; feel, it is warm.’ He grasped Eve and drew her out on -the rocky platform. - -‘Sit down, Eve. I know you better than you know me. I have heard Martin -speak of you. That is how I know about you. Look me in the face.’ - -Eve raised her eyes to his. The boy had a strange countenance. The hair -was short-cropped and black, the skin olive. He had protruding and -large ears, and very black keen eyes. - -‘What do you think is my age?’ asked the boy. ‘I am nineteen. I am an -ape. I shall never grow into a man.’ He began again to skip and make -grimaces. Eve shrank away in alarm. - -‘There! Put your fears aside, and be reasonable,’ said Watt, coming -to a rest. ‘Jasper is below, munching his dinner. I have seen him. He -would not eat whilst you were by. He did not suspect I was lying on -the rock overhead in the heath, peering down on you both whilst you -were talking. I can skip about, I can scramble anywhere, I can almost -fly. I do not wish Jasper to know I am here. No one must know but -yourself, for I have come here on an errand to you.’ - -‘To me!’ echoed Eve, hardly recovered from her terror. - -‘I am come from Martin. You remember Martin? Oh! there are not many men -like Martin. He is a king of men. Imagine an old town, with ancient -houses and a church tower behind, and the moon shining on it, and in -the moonlight Martin in velvet, with a hat in which is a white feather, -and his violin, under a window, thinking you are there, and singing -_Deh, vieni alla finestra_. Do you know the tune? Listen.’ The boy -took his fiddle, and touching the strings with his fingers, as though -playing a mandolin, he sang that sweet minstrel song. - -Eve’s blue eyes opened wonderingly, this was all so strange and -incomprehensible to her. - -‘See here, Miss Zerlina, you were singing _Là ci darem_ just now, try -it with me. I can take Giovanni’s part and you that of Zerlina.’ - -‘I cannot. I cannot, indeed.’ - -‘You shall. I shall stand between you and the wood. You cannot escape -over the rock, you would be dashed to pieces. I will begin.’ - -Suddenly a loud voice interrupted him as he began to play—’Watt!’ - -Standing under the shadow of the oaks, with one foot on the rocky -platform, was Jasper. - -‘Watt, how came you here?’ - -The boy lowered his violin and stood for a moment speechless. - -‘Miss Eve,’ said Jasper, ‘please go home. After all, you have -encountered the pixy, and that a malicious and dangerous imp. Stand -aside, Watt.’ - -The boy did not venture to resist. He stood back near the edge of the -rock and allowed Eve to pass him. - -When she was quite gone, Jasper said gravely to the boy, ‘What has -brought you here?’ - -‘That is a pretty question to ask me, Jasper. We left you here, broken -and senseless, and naturally Martin and I want to know what condition -you are in. How could we tell whether you were alive or dead? You know -very well that Martin could not come, so I have run here to obtain -information.’ - -‘I am well,’ answered Jasper, ‘you may tell Martin, everywhere but -here,’ he laid his hand on his heart. - -‘With such a pretty girl near I do not wonder,’ laughed the boy. ‘I -shall tell poor Martin of the visits paid you at the water’s edge.’ - -‘That will do,’ said Jasper; ‘this joking offends me. Tell Martin I am -here, but with my heart aching for him.’ - -‘No occasion for that, Jasper. Not a cricket in the grass is lighter of -spirit than he.’ - -‘I dare say,’ said the elder, ‘he does not feel matters acutely. Tell -him the money must be restored. Here I stay as a pledge that the debt -shall be paid. Tell him that I insist on his restoring the money.’ - -‘Christmas is coming, and after that Easter, and then, all in good -time, Christmas again; but money once passed, returns no more.’ - -‘I expect Martin to restore what he took. He is good at heart, but -inconsiderate. I know Martin better than you. You are his bad angel. He -loves me and is generous. He knows what I have done for him, and when I -tell him that I must have the money back he will return it if he can.’ - -‘If he can!’ repeated the boy derisively. ‘It is well you have thrown -in that proviso. I once tossed my cap into the Dart and ran two miles -along the bank after it. I saw it for two miles bobbing on the ripples, -but at last it went over the weir above Totnes and disappeared. I -believe that cap was fished up at Dartmouth and is now worn by the -mayor’s son. It is so with money. Once let it out of your hands and it -avails nothing to run after it. It disappears and comes up elsewhere to -profit others.’ - -‘Where is Martin now?’ - -‘Anywhere and everywhere.’ - -‘He is not in this county, I trust.’ - -‘Did you never hear of the old lady who lost the store closet key and -hunted everywhere except in her own pocket? What is under your nose is -overlooked.’ - -‘Go back to Martin. Tell him, as he values his safety and my peace of -mind, to keep out of the country, certainly out of the county. Tell -him to take to some honest work and stick to it, and to begin his -repentance by——’ - -‘There! if I carry a preachment away with me I shall never reach -Martin. I had a surfeit of this in the olden days, Jasper. I know a -sailor lad who has been fed on salt junk at sea till if you put but as -much as will sit on the end of your knife under his nose when he is on -land he will upset the table. It is the same with Martin and me. No -sermons for us, Jasper. So—see, I am off at the first smell of a text.’ - -He darted into the wood and disappeared, singing at the top of his -voice ‘Life let us cherish.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -FORGET-ME-NOT! - - -THAT night Eve could not sleep. She thought of her wonderful adventure. -Who was that strange boy? And who was Martin? And, what was the link -between these two and Jasper? - -Towards morning, when she ought to have been stirring, she fell asleep, -and laughed in her dreams. She woke with the sun shining in on her, -and her father standing by her bed, watching her. - -After the visions in which she had been steeped full of fair forms and -brilliant colours, it was a shock to her to unclose her eyes on the -haggard face of her father, with sunken eyes. - -‘What is it, papa?’ - -‘My dear, it is ten o’clock. I have waited for my breakfast. The tea -is cold, the toast has lost its crispness, and the eggs are like the -tea—cold.’ - -‘O papa!’ she said sorrowfully, sitting up in bed; ‘I have overslept -myself. But, you will not begrudge me the lovely dreams I have had. -Papa! I saw a pixy yesterday.’ - -‘Where, child?’ - -‘On the Raven Rock.’ - -He shut his eyes, and put his hand over his mouth. Then he heaved a -deep sigh, said nothing, turned, and went out of the room. - -Eve was the idol of her father’s heart. He spoiled her, by allowing her -her own way in everything, by relieving her of every duty, and heaping -all the responsibilities on the shoulders of his eldest daughter. - -Eve was so full of love and gaiety, that it was impossible to be angry -with her when she made provoking mistakes; she was so penitent, so -pretty in her apologies, and so sincere in her purpose of amendment. - -Eve was warmly attached to her father. She had an affectionate nature, -but none of her feelings were deep. Her rippling conversation, her -buoyant spirits, enlivened the prevailing gloom of Mr. Jordan. His -sadness did not depress her. Indeed, she hardly noticed it. Hers was -not a sympathetic nature. She exacted the sympathy of others, but gave -nothing more in return than prattle and laughter. - -She danced down the stairs when dressed, without any regret for having -kept her father waiting. He would eat a better breakfast for a little -delay, she said to herself, and satisfied her conscience. - -She came into the breakfast-room in a white muslin dress, covered -with little blue sprigs, and with a blue riband in her golden hair. -The lovely roses of her complexion, the sparkling eyes, the dimple in -her cheeks, the air of perfect content with herself, and with all the -world, disarmed what little vexation hung in her father’s mood. - -‘Do you think Bab will be home to-day?’ she asked, seating herself -at the tea-tray without a word of apology for the lateness of her -appearance. - -‘I do not know what her movements are.’ - -‘I hope she will. I want her home.’ - -‘Yes, she must return, to relieve you of your duties.’ - -‘I am sure the animals want her home. The pigeons find I am not regular -in throwing them barley, and I sometimes forget the bread-crumbs after -a meal. The little black heifer always runs along the paddock when Bab -goes by, and she is indifferent to me. She lows when I appear, as much -as to say, Where is Miss Barbara? Then the cat has not been himself for -some days, and the little horse is in the dumps. Do you think brute -beasts have souls?’ - -‘I do not know.’ Then after a pause, ‘What was that you said about a -pixy?’ - -‘O papa! it was a dream.’ She coloured. Something rose in her heart to -check her from confiding to him what in her thoughtless freedom she was -prepared to tell on first awaking. - -He pressed her no further. He doubtless believed she had spoken the -truth. She had ever been candid. Now, however, she lacked courage to -speak. She remembered that the boy had said ‘I come to you with a -message.’ He had disappeared without giving it. What was that message? -Was he gone without delivering it? - -Mr. Jordan slowly ate his breakfast. Every now and then he looked at -his daughter, never steadily, for he could look fixedly long at nothing. - -‘I will tell you all, papa,’ said Eve suddenly, shaking her head, to -shake off the temptation to be untrue. Her better nature had prevailed. -‘It was not a dream, it was a reality. I did see a pixy on the Raven -Rock, the maddest, merriest, ugliest imp in the world.’ - -‘We are surrounded by an unseen creation,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘The -microscope reveals to us teeming life in a drop of water. Another -generation will use an instrument that will show them the air full of -living things. Then the laugh will be no more heard on earth. Life will -be grave, if not horrible. This generation is sadder than the last -because less ignorant.’ - -‘O papa! He was not a pixy at all. I have seen him before, when Mr. -Jasper was thrown. Then he was perched like an ape, as he is, on the -cross you set up, where my mother first appeared to you. He was making -screams with his fiddle.’ - -Mr. Jordan looked at her with flickering, frightened eyes. ‘It was a -spirit—the horse saw it and started—that was how Jasper was thrown,’ he -said gravely. - -‘Here Jasper comes,’ said Eve, laughing; ‘ask him.’ But instead of -waiting for her father to do this, she sprang up, and danced to meet -him with the simplicity of a child, and clapping her palms, she asked, -‘Mr. Jasper! My father will have it that my funny little pixy was a -spirit of the woods or wold, and will not believe that he is flesh and -blood.’ - -‘My daughter,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘has told me a strange story. She says -that she saw a boy on the—the Raven Rock, and that you know him.’ - -‘Yes, I do.’ - -‘Whence comes he?’ - -‘That I cannot say.’ - -‘Where does he live?’ - -‘Nowhere.’ - -‘Is he here still?’ - -‘I do not know.’ - -‘Have you seen him before?’ - -‘Yes—often.’ - -‘That will do.’ Mr. Jordan jerked his head and waved his hand, in sign -that he did not wish Jasper to remain. - -He treated Jasper with rudeness; he resented the loss of Eve’s money, -and being a man of narrow mind and vindictive temper, he revenged the -loss on the man who was partly to blame for the loss. He brooded over -his misfortune, and was bitter. The sight of Jasper irritated him, and -he did not scruple at meals to make allusions to the lost money which -must hurt the young man’s feelings. When Barbara was present, she -interposed to turn the conversation or blunt the significance of her -father’s words. Eve, on the other hand, when Mr. Jordan spoke in a way -she did not like to Jasper or Barbara, started up and left the room, -because she could not endure discords. She sprang out of the way of -harsh words as she turned from a brier. It did not occur to her to save -others, she saved herself. - -Barbara thought of Jasper and her father, Eve only of herself. - -When Jasper was gone, Mr. Jordan put his hand to his head. ‘I do not -understand, I cannot think,’ he said, with a vacant look in his eyes. -‘You say one thing, and he another.’ - -‘Pardon me, dearest papa, we both say the same, that the pixy was -nothing but a real boy of flesh and blood, but—there, let us think and -talk of something else.’ - -‘Take care!’ said Mr. Jordan gloomily; ‘take care! There are spirits -where the wise see shadows; the eye of the fool sees farther than the -eye of the sage. My dear Eve, beware of the Raven Rock.’ - -Eve began to warble the air of the serenade in ‘Don Giovanni’ which she -had heard the boy Watt sing. - -Then she threw her arms round her father’s neck. ‘Do not look so -miserable, papa. I am the happiest little being in the world, and I -will kiss your cheeks till they dimple with laughter.’ But instead of -doing so, she dashed away to pick flowers, for she thought, seeing -herself in the glass opposite, that a bunch of forget-me-not in her -bosom was what lacked to perfect her appearance in the blue-sprigged -muslin. - -She knew where wild forget-me-nots grew. The Abbot’s Well sent -its little silver rill through rich grass towards the wood, where -it spilled down the steep descent to the Tamar. She knew that -forget-me-not grew at the border of the wood, just where the stream -left the meadow and the glare of the sun for its pleasant shadow. As -she approached the spot she saw the imp-like boy leap from behind a -tree. - -He held up his finger, put it to his lips, then beckoned her to follow -him. This she would not do. She halted in the meadow, stooped, and, -pretending not to see him, picked some of the blue flowers she desired. - -He came stealthily towards her, and pointed to a stone a few steps -further, which was hidden from the house by the slope of the hill. ‘I -will tell you nothing unless you come,’ he said. - -She hesitated a moment, looked round, and advanced to the place -indicated. - -‘I will go no farther with you,’ said she, putting her hand on the -rock. ‘I am afraid of you.’ - -‘It matters not,’ answered the boy; ‘I can say what I want here.’ - -‘What is it? Be quick, I must go home.’ - -‘Oh, you little puss! Oh, you came out full of business! I can tell -you, you came for nothing but the chance of hearing what I forgot to -tell you yesterday. I must give the message I was commissioned to bear -before I can leave.’ - -‘Who from?’ - -‘Can you ask? From Martin.’ - -‘But who is Martin?’ - -‘Sometimes he is one thing, then another; he is Don Giovanni. Then he -is a king. There—he is an actor. Will that content you?’ - -‘What is his surname?’ - -‘O Eve! daughter of Eve!’ jeered the boy, ‘all inquisitiveness! What -does that matter? An actor takes what name suits him.’ - -‘What is his message? I must run home.’ - -‘He stole something from you—wicked Martin.’ - -‘Yes; a ring.’ - -‘And you—you stole his heart away. Poor Martin _has_ had no peace of -mind since he saw you. His conscience has stung him like a viper. So he -has sent me back to you with the ring.’ - -‘Where is it?’ - -‘Shut your blue eyes, they dazzle me, and put out your finger.’ - -‘Give me the ring, please, and let me go.’ - -‘Only on conditions—not my conditions—those of Martin. He was very -particular in his instructions to me. Shut your eyes and extend your -dear little finger. Next swear never, never to part with the ring I put -on your finger.’ - -‘That I never will. Mr. Martin had no right to take the ring. It was -impertinent of him; it made me very angry. Once I get it back I will -never let the ring go again.’ She opened her eyes. - -‘Shut! shut!’ cried the boy: ‘and now swear.’ - -‘I promise,’ said the girl. ‘That suffices.’ - -‘There, then, take the ring.’ He thrust the circlet on her finger. She -opened her eyes again and looked at her hand. - -‘Why, boy!’ she exclaimed, ‘this is not my ring. It is another.’ - -‘To be sure it is, you little fool. Do you think that Martin would -return the ring you gave him? No, no. He sends you this in exchange -for yours. It is prettier, Look at the blue flower on it, formed of -turquoise. Forget-me-not.’ - -‘I cannot keep this. I want my own,’ said Eve, pouting, and her eyes -filling. - -‘You must abide Martin’s time. Meanwhile retain this pledge.’ - -‘I cannot! I will not!’ she stamped her foot petulantly on the oxalis -and forget-me-not that grew beneath the rock, tears of vexation -brimming in her eyes. ‘You have not dealt fairly by me. You have -cheated me.’ - -‘Listen to me, Miss Eve,’ said the boy in a coaxing tone. ‘You are a -child, and have to be treated as such. Look at the beautiful stones, -observe the sweet blue flower. You know what that means—Forget-me-not. -Our poor Martin has to ramble through the world with a heart-ache, -yearning for a pair of sparkling blue eyes, and for two wild roses -blooming in the sweetest cheeks the sun ever kissed, and for a head of -hair like a beech tree touched by frost in a blazing autumn’s sun. Do -you think he can forget these? He carries that face of yours ever about -with him, and now he sends you this ring, and that means—”Miss, you -have made me very unhappy. I can never forget the little maid with eyes -of blue, and so I send her this token to bid her forget me not, as I -can never forget her.”’ - -And as Eve stood musing with pouting lips, and troubled brow, looking -at the ring, the boy took his violin, and with the fingers plucked the -strings to make an accompaniment as he sang:— - - A maiden stood beside a river, - And with her pitcher seemed to play; - Then sudden stooped and drew up water, - But drew my heart as well away. - - And now I sigh beside the river, - I dream about that maid I saw, - I wait, I watch, am restless, weeping, - Until she come again to draw. - - A flower is blooming by the river, - A floweret with a petal blue, - Forget me not, my love, my treasure! - My flower and heart are both for you. - -He played and sang a sweet, simple and plaintive air. It touched Eve’s -heart; always susceptible to music. Her lips repeated after the boy, -‘My flower and heart are both for you.’ - -She could not make up her mind what to do. While she hesitated, the -opportunity of returning the ring was gone. Watt had disappeared into -the bushes. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -DISCOVERIES. - - -A BEAUTIFUL summer evening. Eve from her window saw Jasper in the -garden; he was trimming the flower-beds which had been neglected since -Christopher Davy had been ill. The men were busy on the farm, too busy -to be taken off for flower gardening. Barbara had said one day that -it was a pity the beds were not put to rights; and now Jasper was -attending to her wishes during her absence. Mr. Jordan was out. He had -gone forth with his hammer, and there was no telling when he would -return. Eve disliked being alone. She must talk to someone. She brushed -her beautiful hair, looked in the glass, adjusted a scarf round her -shoulders, and in a coquettish way tripped into the garden and began to -pick the flowers, peeping at Jasper out of the corners of her eyes, to -see if he were observing her. He, however, paid no attention to what -she was doing. In a fit of impatience, she flung the auriculas and -polyanthus she had picked on the path, and threw herself pouting into -the nearest garden seat. - -‘Mr. Jasper!’ she called; ‘are you so mightily busy that you cannot -afford me a word?’ - -‘I am always and altogether at your service, dear Miss Eve.’ - -‘Why have you taken to gardening? Are you fond of flowers?’ - -‘I am devoted to flowers.’ - -‘So am I. I pick them.’ - -‘And throw them away,’ said Jasper, stooping and collecting those she -had strewn on the path. - -‘Well—I have not the patience to garden. I leave all that to Barbara -and old Christopher. I wish things generally, gardens included, would -go along without giving trouble. I wish my sister were home.’ - -‘To relieve you of all responsibility and trouble.’ - -‘I hate trouble,’ said Eve frankly, ‘and responsibility is like a burr -in one’s clothes—detestable. There! you are laughing at me, Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘I am not laughing, I am sighing.’ - -‘Oh, you are always sad.’ - -‘I do not like to hear you talk in this manner. You cannot expect to -have your sister at your elbow throughout life, to fan off all the -flies that tease you.’ - -‘If I have not Bab, I shall have someone else.’ - -‘Miss Barbara might marry—and then——’ - -‘Barbara marry!’ exclaimed Eve, and clapped her hands. ‘The idea is too -absurd. Who would marry her? She is a dear, darling girl, but——’ - -‘But what, missie?’ - -‘I dare say I shall marry.’ - -‘Miss Eve! listen to me. It is most likely that you will be married -some day, but what then? You will have a thousand more cares on your -shoulders than you have now, duties you will be forced to bear, -troubles which will encompass you on all sides.’ - -‘Do you know,’ said Eve, with a twinkling face, and a sly look in her -eyes, ‘do you know, Mr. Jasper, I don’t think I shall marry for ever so -long. But I have a glorious scheme in my head. As my money is gone, if -anything should happen to us, I should dearly like to go on the stage. -That would be simply splendid!’ - -‘The young crows,’ said Jasper gravely, ‘live on the dew of heaven, -and then they are covered with a soft shining down. After a while the -old birds bring them carrion, and when they have tasted flesh, they no -longer have any liking for dew. Then the black feathers sprout, then -only.’ He raised his dark eyes to those of Eve, and said in a deep, -vibrating voice, ‘I would have this sweet fledgling sit still in her -beautiful Morwell nest, and drink only the sparkling drops that fall -into her mouth from the finger of God. I cannot bear to think of her -growing black feathers, and hopping about—a carrion crow.’ - -Eve fidgeted on her seat. She had thrust her pretty feet before her, -clad in white stockings and blue leather slippers, one on the other; -she crossed and recrossed them impatiently. - -‘I do not like you to talk to me like this. I am tired of living in the -wilds where one sees nobody, and where I can never go to theatre or -concert or ball. I should—oh, I should like to live in a town.’ - -‘You are a child, Miss Eve, and think and talk like a child. But the -time is coming when you must put away childish things, and face life -seriously.’ - -‘It is not wicked to want to go to a town. There is no harm in dreaming -that I am an actress. Oh!’ she exclaimed, held up her hands, and -laughed, ‘that would be too delightful!’ - -‘What has put this mad fancy into your head?’ - -‘Two or three things. I will confide in you, dear Mr. Jasper, if you -can spare the time to listen. This morning as I had nothing to do, -and no one to talk to, I thought I would search the garrets here. I -have never been over them, and they are extensive. Barbara has always -dissuaded me from going up there because they are so dusty and hung -with cobwebs. There is such a lot of rubbish heaped up and packed away -in the attics. I don’t believe that Barbara knows what is there. I -don’t fancy papa does. Well! I went up to-day and found treasures.’ - -‘Pray, what treasures?’ - -‘Barbara is away, and there is no one to scold. There are boxes there, -and old chairs, all kinds of things, some are so heavy I could hardly -move them. I could not get them back into their places again, if I were -to try.’ - -‘So you threw the entire garret into disorder?’ - -‘Pretty well, but I will send up one of the men or maids to tidy it -before Barbara comes home. Behind an old broken winnowing machine—fancy -a winnowing machine up there!—and under a pile of old pans and -bottomless crocks is a chest, to which I got with infinite trouble, and -not till I was very hot and dirty. I found it was locked, but the rust -had eaten through the hinges, or the nails fastening them; and after -working the lid about awhile I was able to lift it. What do you suppose -I found inside?’ - -‘I cannot guess.’ - -‘No, I am sure you cannot. Wait—go on with your gardening. I will bring -you one of my treasures.’ - -She darted into the house, and after a few minutes, Jasper heard a -tinkling as of brass. Then Eve danced out to him, laughing and shaking -a tambourine. - -‘I suppose it belonged to you or Miss Jordan when you were children, -and was stowed away under the mistaken impression that you had outgrown -toys.’ - -‘No, Mr. Jasper, it never belonged to either Barbara or me. I never -had one. Barbara gave me everything of her own I wanted. I could not -have forgotten this. I would have played with it till I had broken the -parchment, and shaken out all the little bells.’ - -‘Give it to me. I will tighten the parchment, and then you can drum on -it with your fingers.’ He took the instrument from her, and strained -the cover. ‘Do you know, Miss Eve, how to use a tambourine?’ - -‘No. I shake it, and then all the little bells tingle.’ - -‘Yes, but you also tap the drum. You want music as an accompaniment, -and to that you dance with this toy.’ - -‘How do you mean?’ - -‘I will show you how I have seen it played by Italian and gipsy -girls.’ He took the tambourine, and singing a lively dance air, struck -the drum and clinked the brasses. He danced before Eve gravely, with -graceful movements. - -‘That is it!’ cried Eve, with eyes that flashed with delight, and -with feet that itched to dance. ‘Oh, give it me back. I understand -thoroughly now, thank you, thank you so heartily, dear Mr. Jasper. And -now—I have not done. Come up into the garret when I call.’ - -‘What for? To help you to make more rummage, and find more toys?’ - -‘No! I want you to push the winnowing machine back, and to make order -in the litter I have created.’ - -Jasper nodded good-humouredly. - -Then Eve, rattling her tambourine over her head, ran in; and Jasper -resumed his work at the flower-beds. Barbara’s heliotrope, from which -she so often wore a fragrant flower, had not been planted many weeks. -It was straggling, and needed pinning down. Her seedling asters had not -been pricked out in a bed, and they were crowding each other in their -box. He took them out and divided their interlaced roots. - -‘Mr. Jasper!’ A little face was peeping out of the small window in the -gable that lighted the attic. He looked up, waved his hand, and laid -down the young asters with a sigh, but covered their roots with earth -before leaving them. - -Then he washed his hands at the Abbot’s Well, and slowly ascended the -stair to the attic. It was a newel stone flight, very narrow, in the -thickness of the wall. - -When he reached the top he threw up a trap in the floor, and pushed his -head through. - -Then, indeed, he was surprised. The inconsiderate Eve had taken some -candle ends and stuck them on the binding beam of the roof, and lighted -them. They cast a yellow radiance through the vast space, without -illumining its recesses. All was indistinct save within the radius of a -few feet around the candles. In the far-off blackness was one silvery -grey square of light—the little gable window. On the floor the rafter -cast its shadow as a bar of ink. - -Jasper was not surprised at the illumination, though vexed at the -careless manner in which Eve had created it. What surprised him was the -appearance of the young girl. She was transfigured. She was dressed -in a saffron-yellow skirt with a crimson lattice of ribbon over it, -fastened with bows, and covered with spangles. She wore a crimson -velvet bodice, glittering with gold lace and bullion thread embroidery. -But her eyes sparkled brighter than the tarnished spangles. - -The moment Jasper’s head appeared through the trap in the floor, she -struck the timbrel, and clattered the jingles, and danced and laughed. -Then seeing how amazed he was she skipped coquettishly towards him, -rattled her drum in his ear, and danced back again under her row of -candles. She had caught the very air he had sung recently, when showing -her how to manage the instrument. She had heard it that once, but she -had seized the melody, and she sang it, and varied it after her own -caprice, but without losing the leading thread, and always coming back -to the burden with a similar set gesture of arms and feet, and stroke -of drum and clash of bells. Then, all at once, one of the candles fell -over on the rafter and dropped to the floor. Eve brought her tambourine -down with a crash and jangle; Jasper sprang forward, and extinguished -the candle with his foot. - -‘There! Is not this witchcraft?’ exclaimed Eve. ‘Go down through the -trap again, Mr. Jasper, and I will rejoin you. Not a word to papa, or -to Barbie when she returns.’ - -‘I will not go till the candles are put out and the risk of a fire is -past. You can see by the window to take off this trumpery.’ - -‘Trumpery! Oh, Mr. Jasper! Trumpery!’ she exclaimed in an injured, -disappointed tone. - -‘Call it what you will. Where did you find it?’ - -‘In yonder box. There is more in it. Do go now, Mr. Jasper; I will put -out the candles, I will, honour bright.’ - -The bailiff descended, and resumed his work with the asters. He -smiled and yet was vexed at Eve’s giddiness. It was impossible to be -angry with her, she was but a child. It was hard not to look with -apprehension to her future. - -Suddenly he stood up, and listened. He heard the clatter of horse’s -hoofs in the lane. Who could be coming? The evening had closed in. -The sun was set. It was not dark so near midsummer, but dusk. He went -hastily from the garden into the lane, and saw the young groom urging -on his fagged horse, and leading another by the bridle, with a lady’s -saddle on it. - -‘Where is your mistress? Is anything the matter?’ - -‘Nothing,’ answered the lad. ‘She is behind. In taking off her glove -she lost her ring, and now I must get a lantern to look for it.’ - -‘Nelly,’ that was the horse, ‘is tired. I will get a light and run -back. Whereabouts is she?’ - -‘Oh, not a thousand yards from the edge of the moor. The doctor rode -with us part of the way from Tavistock. After he left, Miss Barbara -took off her glove and lost her ring. She won’t leave the spot till it -be found.’ - -‘Go in. I will take the light to her. Tell the cook to prepare supper. -Miss Jordan must be tired and hungry.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -BARBARA’S RING. - - -JASPER quickly got the lantern out of the stable, and lighted -the candle in the kitchen. Then he ran with it along the rough, -stone-strewn lane, between walls of moorstone, till he came to the -moor. He followed the track rather than road which traversed it. With -evening, clouds had gathered and much obscured the light. Nevertheless -the north was full of fine silvery haze, against which stood up the -curious conical hill of Brent Tor, crowned with its little church. - -When suddenly Jasper came up to Miss Jordan, he took her unawares. -She was stooping, searching the ground, and, in her dark-green riding -habit, he had mistaken her for a gorse bush. When he arrived with -the lantern she arose abruptly, and on recognising the young man the -riding-whip dropped from her hand. - -‘Mr. Jasper!’ she exclaimed. - -‘Miss Barbara!’ - -They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. One of her -white hands was gloveless. - -‘What has brought you here?’ asked Barbara, stooping and picking up her -whip with one hand, and gathering her habit with the other. - -‘I heard that you had lost something.’ - -‘Yes; I was thoughtless. I was warm, and I hastily whisked off my glove -that I might pass my hand over my brow, and I felt as I plucked the -glove away that my aunt’s ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was -so foolish, so unnerved, that I let drop the glove—and now can find -neither. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot find that. -So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I supposed he would return -with it.’ - -‘I took the liberty of coming myself, he is a boy and tired with his -long journey; besides, the horses have to be attended to. I hope you -are not displeased.’ - -‘On the contrary,’ she replied, in her frank, kindly tone, ‘I am glad -to see you. When one has been from home a long distance, it is pleasant -to meet a messenger from home to say how all are.’ - -‘And it is pleasant for the messenger to bring good tidings. Mr. -Jordan is well; Miss Eve happy as a butterfly in summer over a clover -field.’ - -If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her head aside, -Jasper would have seen a change in her face. She suddenly bowed herself -and recommenced her search. - -‘I am very, very sorry,’ she said, in a low tone, ‘I am not able to be -a pleasant messenger to you. I am——’ she half raised herself, her voice -was full of sympathy. ‘I am more sorry than I can say.’ - -He made no reply; he had not, perhaps, expected much. He threw the -light of the lantern along the ground, and began to search for the -glove. - -‘You are carrying something,’ he said; ‘let me relieve you, Miss -Jordan.’ - -‘It is—your violin.’ - -‘Miss Barbara! how kind, how good! You have carried it all the way?’ - -‘Not at all. Johnny Ostler had it most part. Then Mr. Coyshe carried -it. The boy _could_ not take it at the same time that he led my horse; -you understand that?’ Her voice became cold, her pride was touched; she -did not choose that he should know the truth. - -‘But you thought of bringing it.’ - -‘Not at all. Your father insisted on its being taken from his house. -The boy has the rest of your things, as many as could be carried.’ - -Nothing further was said. They searched together for the glove. They -were forced to search closely together because the lantern cast but -a poor light round. Where the glare did fall, there the tiny white -clover leaves, fine moor grass, small delicately-shaped flowers of the -milkwort, white and blue, seemed a newly-discovered little world of -loveliness. But Barbara had other matters to consider, and scarcely -noticed the beauty. She was not susceptible as Eve to the beautiful and -picturesque. She was looking for her glove, but her thoughts were not -wholly concerned with the glove and ring. - -‘Mr. Jasper, I saw your father.’ She spoke in a low voice, their heads -were not far asunder. ‘I told him where you were.’ - -‘Miss Barbara, did he say anything to you about me? Did he say anything -about the—the loss of the money?’ - -‘He refused to hear about you. He would hardly listen to a word I said.’ - -‘Did he tell you who took the money?’ - -‘No.’ She paused. ‘Why should he? I know—it was you——’ - -Jasper sighed. - -‘I can see,’ pursued Barbara, ‘that you were hard tried. I know that -you had no happy home, that you had no mother, and that your father may -have been harsh and exacting, but—but—’ her voice shook. ‘Excuse me, I -am tired, and anxious about my ring. It is a sapphire surrounded with -diamonds. I cannot speak much. I ought not to have put the ring on my -finger till the hoop had been reduced. It was a very pretty ring.’ - -Then the search was continued in silence, without result. - -‘Excuse me,’ she said, after a while, ‘I may seem engrossed in my loss -and regardless of your disappointment. I expected that your father -would have been eager to forgive you. The father of the prodigal in -the Gospel ran to meet his repentant son. I am sure—I am sure you are -repentant.’ - -‘I will do all in my power to redress the wrong that has been done,’ -said Jasper calmly. - -‘I entreated Mr. Babb to be generous, to relax his severity, and to -send you his blessing. But I could not win a word of kindness for you, -Mr. Jasper, not a word of hope and love!’ - -‘Oh, Miss Jordan, how good and kind you are!’ - -‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said in a soft tremulous voice, ‘I would take the -journey readily over again. I would ride back at once, and alone over -the moor, if I thought that would win the word for you. I believe, I -trust, you are repentant, and I would do all in my power to strengthen -your good resolution, and save your soul.’ - -Then she touched a gorse bush and made her hand smart with the -prickles. She put the ungloved hand within the radius of the light, and -tried to see and remove the spines. - -‘Never mind,’ she said, forcing a laugh. ‘The ring, not the prickles, -is of importance now. If I do not find it to-night, I shall send out -all the men to-morrow, and promise a reward to quicken their interest -and sharpen their eyes.’ - -She put her fingers where most wounded to her lips. Then, thinking that -she had said too much, shown too great a willingness to help Jasper, -she exclaimed, ‘Our holy religion requires us to do our utmost for the -penitent. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that is contrite.’ - -‘I have found your glove,’ exclaimed Jasper joyously. He rose and held -up a dog-skin riding-glove with gauntlet. - -‘Feel inside if the ring be there,’ said Barbara. ‘I cannot do so -myself, one hand is engaged with my whip and skirt.’ - -‘I can feel it—the hoop—through the leather.’ - -‘I am so glad, so much obliged to you, Mr. Jasper.’ She held out her -white hand with the ring-finger extended. ‘Please put it in place, and -I will close my fist till I reach home.’ - -She made the request without thought, considering only that she had her -whip and gathered habit in her right, gloved hand. - -Jasper opened the lantern and raised it. The diamonds sparkled. ‘Yes, -that is my ring,’ said Barbara. - -He set the lantern on a stone, a slab of white felspar that lay on the -grass. Then he lightly held her hand with his left, and with the right -placed the ring on her finger. - -But the moment it was in place and his fingers held it there, a shock -of terror and shame went to Barbara’s heart. What inconsiderateness had -she been guilty of! The reflection of the light from the white felspar -was in their faces. In a moment, unable to control herself, Barbara -burst into tears. Jasper stooped and kissed the fingers he held. - -She started back, snatched her hand from him, clenched her fist, and -struck her breast with it. ‘How dare you! You—you—the escaped convict! -Go on; I will follow. You have insulted me.’ - -He obeyed. But as he walked back to Morwell ahead of her, he was not -cast down. Eve, in the garret, had that day opened a coffer and made -a discovery. He, too, on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a -fast-closed heart, had looked in, and made a discovery. - -When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her room, where she threw -herself on her bed, and beat and beat again, with her fists, her head -and breast, and said, ‘I hate—I hate and despise myself! I hate—oh, how -I hate myself!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -PERPLEXITY. - - -BARBARA was roused early next morning by Eve; Eve had overslept herself -when she ought to be up; she woke and rose early when another hour -of rest would have been a boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied -adjoining rooms that communicated, and the door was always open between -them. When Eve was awake she would not suffer her sister to sleep on. -She stooped over her and kissed her closed eyes till she woke. Eve had -thrown open the window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl -was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara’s bed with her -lovely hair dishevelled about her head, ing a halo of red-gold glory -to her face. That face was lovely with its delicate roses of health and -happiness, and the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her -neck was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Barbara’s head and -shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, sleep-stupefied girl awoke. - -‘I cannot sleep this lovely morning,’ said Eve; then, with true -feminine _non-sequitur_; ‘So you must get up, Barbie.’ - -‘Oh, Eve, is it time?’ Barbara sat up in bed instantly wide awake. Her -sister seated herself on the side of the bed and laid her hand in her -lap. - -‘Eve!’ exclaimed Barbara suddenly, ‘what have you there—on your finger? -Who gave you that?’ - -‘It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not of turquoise -set in a circlet of gold?’ - -‘Who gave it you, Eve?’ - -‘A pixy gift!’ laughed the girl carelessly. - -‘This will not do. You must answer me. Where did you get it?’ - -‘I found it, Barbie.’ - -‘Found it—where?’ - -‘Where are forget-me-nots usually found?’ Then hastily, before her -sister could speak, ‘But what a lovely ring you have got on your -pincushion, Bab! Mine cannot compare with it. Is that the ring I heard -the maids say you lost?’ - -‘Yes, dear.’ - -‘How did you recover it? Who found it for you?’ - -‘Jasper.’ - -Eve turned her ring on her finger. - -‘My darling,’ said Barbara, ‘you have not been candid with me about -that ring. Did Dr. Coyshe give it to you?’ - -‘Dr. Coyshe! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think of me as aspiring -to be Mrs. Squash!’ - -‘When did you get the ring?’ - -‘Yesterday.’ - -‘Who gave it to you? You must tell me.’ - -‘I have already told you—I found it by the wood, as truly as you found -yours on the down.’ - -Suddenly Barbara started, and her heart beat fast. - -‘Eve!—where is the ribbon and your mother’s ring? You used to have that -ring always in your bosom. Where is it? Have you parted with that?’ - -Eve’s colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom. - -‘Oh, darling!’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘answer me truly. To whom have you -given that ring?’ - -‘I have not given it; I have lost it. You must not be angry with me, -Bab. You lost yours.’ Eve’s eyes sank as she spoke, and her voice -faltered. - -The elder sister did not speak for a moment; she looked hard at Eve, -who stood up and remained before her in a pretty penitential attitude, -but unable to meet her eye. - -Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met? There was no one, -absolutely no one she could think of, if Mr. Coyshe were set aside, but -Jasper. Now Barbara had disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after -Jasper before she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, but she -knew that her remonstrances carried small weight. Eve was a natural -coquette. She loved to be praised, admired, made much of. The life at -Morwell was dull, and Eve sought society of any sort where she could -chatter and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve had not -made any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Barbara had not thought -there was anything serious in the liking. It was a child’s fancy. But -then, she considered, would any man’s heart be able to withstand the -pretty wiles of Eve? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily associated -with this fairy creature and not love her? - -‘Eve,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘it is of no use trying concealment with -me. I know who gave you the ring. I know more than you suppose.’ - -‘Jasper has been telling tales,’ exclaimed Eve. - -Barbara winced but did not speak. - -Eve supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about the meeting with -Watt on the Raven Rock. - -‘Are you going to sleep again?’ asked Eve, as Barbara had cast herself -back on her pillow with the face in it. The elder sister shook her head -and made a sign with her hand to be left alone. - -When Barbara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe out of her own -room into that of her sister. She was uneasy at Barbara’s silence; -she thought her sister was hurt and offended with her. So she stepped -behind her, put her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before the -mirror, and her head over her sister’s shoulder, partly that she might -kiss her cheek, partly also that she might see her own face in the -glass and contrast it with that of Barbara. ‘You are not cross with -me?’ she said coaxingly. - -‘No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.’ She turned and kissed her -passionately. ‘Darling! you must give back the little ring and recover -that of your mother.’ - -‘It is impossible,’ answered Eve. - -‘Then I must do what I can for you,’ said Barbara. Barbara was resolved -what to do. She would speak to her father, if necessary; but before -that she must have a word on the matter with Jasper. It was impossible -to tolerate an attachment and secret engagement between him and her -sister. - -She sought an opportunity of speaking privately to the young man, and -easily found one. But when they were together alone, she discovered -that it was not easy to approach the topic that was uppermost in her -mind. - -‘I was very tired last night, Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘over-tired, and -I am hardly myself this morning. The loss of my aunt, the funeral, the -dividing of her poor little treasures, and then the lengthy ride, upset -me. It was very ridiculous of me last night to cry, but a girl takes -refuge in tears when overspent, it relieves and even refreshes her.’ - -Then she hesitated and looked down. But Barbara had a strong will, -and when she had made up her mind to do what she believed to be right, -allowed no weakness to interfere with the execution. - -‘And now I want to speak about something else. I must beg you will not -encourage Eve. She is a child, thoughtless and foolish.’ - -‘Yes; she should be kept more strictly guarded. I do not encourage her. -I regret her giddiness, and give her good advice, which she casts to -the winds. Excuse my saying it, but you and Mr. Jordan are spoiling the -child.’ - -‘My father and I spoil Eve! That is not possible.’ - -‘You think so; I do not. The event will prove which is right, Miss -Jordan.’ - -Barbara was annoyed. What right had Jasper to dictate how Eve was to be -treated? - -‘That ring,’ began Barbara, and halted. - -‘It is not lost again, surely!’ said Jasper. - -Barbara frowned. ‘I am not alluding to my ring which you found along -with my glove, but to that which you gave to Eve.’ - -‘I gave her no ring; I do not understand you.’ - -‘It is a pretty little thing, and a toy. Of course you only gave it her -as such, but it was unwise.’ - -‘I repeat, I gave her no ring, Miss Jordan.’ - -‘She says that she found it, but it is most improbable.’ - -Jasper laughed, not cheerfully; there was always a sadness in his -laughter. ‘You have made a great mistake, Miss Jordan. It is true that -your sister found the ring. That is, I conclude she did, as yesterday -she found a chest in the garret full of old masquerading rubbish, and a -tambourine, and I know not what besides.’ - -A load was taken off Barbara’s mind. So Eve had not deceived her. - -‘She showed me a number of her treasures,’ said Jasper. ‘No doubt -whatever that she found the ring along with the other trumpery.’ - -Barbara’s face cleared. She drew a long breath. ‘Why did not Eve tell -me all?’ she said. - -‘Because,’ answered the young man, ‘she was afraid you would be angry -with her for getting the old tawdry stuff out of the box, and she asked -me not to tell you of it. Now I have betrayed her confidence, I must -leave to you, Miss Jordan, to make my peace with Miss Eve.’ - -‘She has also lost something that hung round her throat.’ - -‘Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in the garret, moving -boxes and hampers. It is lying somewhere on the floor. If you wish it -I will search for her ornament, and hope my success will be equal to -that of last night.’ He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on -it. She observed his glance and said coldly, ‘My ring does not fit -me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I find some young -lady friend to whom I must make a wedding present.’ Then she turned -away. She walked across the Abbot’s Meadow, through which the path led -to the rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direction. -Before long she encountered her sister returning with a large bunch of -foxgloves in her hand. - -‘Do look, Bab!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘is not this a splendid sceptre? A wild -white foxglove with thirty-seven bells on it.’ - -‘Eve!’ said Barbara, her honest face alight with pleasure; ‘my dearest, -I was wrong to doubt you. I know now where you found the ring, and I am -not in the least cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.’ - -‘I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the foxglove than -_flop-a-dock_,’ said Eve. - -‘My dear,’ said Barbara, ‘you shall show me the pretty things you have -found in the attic.’ - -‘What—Bab?’ - -‘I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.’ - -‘What has he told you?’ - -‘He has told me where you found the turquoise ring, together with a -number of fancy ball dresses.’ - -Eve was silent. A struggle went on in her innocent heart. She hated -falsehood. It pained her to deceive her sister, who had such perfect -faith in her. She felt inclined to tell her all, yet she dared not do -so. In her heart she longed to hear more of Martin. She remembered his -handsome face, his flattering and tender words, the romance of that -night. No! she could not tell Barbara. - -‘We will go together into the garret,’ said Barbara, ‘and search for -your mother’s ring. It will easily be found by the blue ribbon to which -it is attached.’ - -Then Eve laughed, held her sister at arms’ length, thrusting the great -bunch of purple and white foxgloves against her shoulder, so that their -tall heads nodded by her cheek and ear. ‘No, Bab, sweet, I did not find -the ring in the chest with the gay dresses. I did not lose the ring of -my mother’s in the loft. I tell you the truth, but I tell you no more.’ - -‘Oh, Eve!’ Barbara’s colour faded. ‘Who was it? I implore you, if you -love me, tell me.’ - -‘I love you dearly, but no.’ She curtsied. ‘Find out if you can.’ Then -she tripped away, waving her foxgloves. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -THE SCYTHE OF TIME. - - -‘MY papa! my darling papa!’ Eve burst into her father’s room. ‘I want -you much to do something for me. Mr. Jasper is so kind. He has promised -to have a game of bowls with me this evening on the lawn, and the grass -is not mown.’ - -‘Well, dear, get it mown,’ said Mr. Jordan dreamily. - -‘But there is no man about, and old Davy is in bed. What am I to do?’ - -‘Wait till to-morrow.’ - -‘I cannot; I shall die of impatience. I have set my heart on a game of -bowls. Do you not see, papa, that the weather may change in the night -and spoil play for to-morrow?’ - -‘Then what do you wish?’ - -‘Oh! my dear papa,’ Eve nestled into his arms, ‘I don’t want much, only -that you would cut the grass for me. It really will not take you ten -minutes. I will promise to sweep up what is cut.’ - -‘I am engaged, Eve, on a very delicate test.’ - -‘So am I, papa.’ - -Mr. Ignatius Jordan looked up at her with dull surprise in his eyes. - -‘I mean, papa, that if you really love me you will jump up and mow the -grass. If you don’t love me you will go on muddling with those minerals -and chemicals.’ - -The gaunt old man stood up. Eve knew her power over him. She could make -him obey her slightest caprice. She ran before him to the gardener’s -tool-house and brought him the scythe. - -In the quadrangle was a grass plat, and on this Eve had decided to play -her game. - -‘All the balls are here except the Jack,’ said she. ‘I shall have to -rummage everywhere for the black-a-moor; I can’t think where he can -be.’ Then she ran into the house in quest of the missing ball. - -The grass had been left to grow all spring and had not been cut at -all, so that it was rank. Mr. Jordan did not well know how to wield a -scythe. He tried and met with so little success that he suspected the -blade was blunt. Accordingly he went to the tool-house for the hone, -and, standing the scythe up with the handle on the swath, tried to -sharpen the blade. - -The grass was of the worst possible quality. The quadrangle was much -in shadow. The plots were so exhausted that little grew except daisy -and buttercup. Jasper had already told Barbara to have the wood-ashes -thrown on the plots, and had promised to see that they were limed in -winter. Whilst Mr. Jordan was honing the scythe slowly and clumsily -Barbara came to him. She was surprised to see him thus engaged. Lean, -haggard, with deep-sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, he lacked but the -hour-glass to make him stand as the personification of Time. He was -in an ill-humour at having been disturbed and set to an uncongenial -task, though his ill-humour was not directed towards Eve. Barbara was -always puzzled by her father. That he suffered, she saw, but she could -not make out of what and where he suffered, and he resented inquiry. -There were times when his usually dazed look was exchanged for one -of keenness, when his eyes glittered with a feverish anxiety, and he -seemed to be watching and expecting with eye and ear something or -some person that never came. At table he was without conversation; he -sat morose, lost in his own thoughts till roused by an observation -addressed to him. His temper was uncertain. Often, as he observed -nothing, he took offence at nothing; but occasionally small matters -roused and unreasonably irritated him. An uneasy apprehension in -Barbara’s mind would not be set at rest. She feared that her father’s -brain was disturbed, and that at any time, without warning, he might -break out into some wild, unreasonable, possibly dreadful, act, -proclaiming to everyone that what she dreaded in secret had come -to pass—total derangement. Of late his humour had been especially -changeful, but his eldest daughter sought to convince herself that this -could be accounted for by distress at the loss of Eve’s dowry. - -Barbara asked her father why he was mowing the grass plot, and when he -told her that Eve had asked him to do so that she might play bowls that -evening on it, she remonstrated, ‘Whom is she to play with?’ - -‘Jasper Babb has promised her a game. I suppose you and I will be -dragged out to make up a party.’ - -‘O papa, there is no necessity for your mowing! You do not understand a -scythe. Now you are honing the wrong way, blunting, not sharpening, the -blade.’ - -‘Of course I am wrong. I never do right in your eyes.’ - -‘My dear father,’ said Barbara, hurt at the injustice of the remark, -‘that is not true.’ - -‘Then why are you always watching me? I cannot walk in the garden, -I cannot go out of the door, I cannot eat a meal, but your eyes are -on me. Is there anything very frightful about me? Anything very -extraordinary? No—it is not that. I can read the thoughts in your head. -You are finding fault with me. I am not doing useful work. I am wasting -valuable hours over empty pursuits. I am eating what disagrees with me, -too much, or too little. Understand this, once for all. I hate to be -watched. Here is a case in point, a proof if one were needed. I came -out here to cut this grass, and at once you are after me. You have -spied my proceedings. I must not do this. If I sharpen the scythe I am -all in the wrong, blunting the blade.’ - -The tears filled Barbara’s eyes. - -‘I am told nothing,’ continued Mr. Jordan. ‘Everything I ought to know -is kept concealed from me, and you whisper about me behind my back to -Jasper and Mr. Coyshe.’ - -‘Indeed, indeed, dear papa——’ - -‘It is true. I have seen you talking to Jasper, and I know it was about -me. What were you trying to worm out of him about me? And so with the -doctor. You rode with him all the way from Tavistock to the Down the -other day; my left ear was burning that afternoon. What did it burn -for? Because I was being discussed. I object to being made the topic of -discussion. Then, when you parted with the doctor, Jasper Babb ran out -to meet you, that you might learn from him how I had behaved, what I -had done, whilst you were away. I have no rest in my own house because -of your prying eyes. Will you go now, and leave me.’ - -‘I will go now, certainly,’ said Barbara, with a gulp in her throat, -and swimming eyes. - -‘Stay!’ he said, as she turned. He stood leaning his elbow on the -head of the scythe, balancing it awkwardly. ‘I was told nothing of -your visit to Buckfastleigh. You told Eve, and you told Jasper—but I -who am most concerned only heard about it by a side-wind. You brought -Jasper his fiddle, and when I asked how he had got it, Eve told me. You -visited his father. Well! am I nobody that I am to be kept in the dark?’ - -‘I have nothing of importance to tell,’ said Barbara. ‘It is true I saw -Mr. Babb, but he would not let me inside his house.’ - -‘Tell me, what did that man say about the money?’ - -‘I do not think there is any chance of his paying unless he be -compelled. He has satisfied his conscience. He put the money away for -you, and as it did not reach you the loss is yours, and you must bear -it.’ - -‘But good heavens! that is no excuse at all. The base hypocrite! He -is a worse thief than the man who stole the money. He should sell the -fields he bought with my loan.’ - -‘They were fields useful to him for the stretching of the cloth he wove -in his factory.’ - -‘Are you trying to justify him for withholding payment?’ asked Mr. -Jordan. ‘He is a hypocrite. What was he to cry out against the strange -blood, and to curse it?—he, Ezekiel Babb, in whose veins ran fraud and -guile?’ - -Barbara looked wonderingly at him through the veil of tears that -obscured her sight. What did he mean? - -‘He is an old man, papa, but hard as iron. He has white hair, but none -of the reverence which clings to age attaches to him.’ - -‘White hair!’ Mr. Jordan turned the scythe, and with the point aimed -at, missed, aimed at again, and cut down a white-seeded dandelion in -the grass. ‘That is white, but the neck is soft, even if the head be -hard,’ said Mr. Jordan, pointing to the dandelion. ‘I wish that were -his head, and I had cut through his neck. But then——’ he seemed to fall -into a bewildered state—’the blood should run red—run, run, dribble -over the edge, red. This is milky, but acrid.’ He recovered himself. ‘I -have only cut down a head of dandelion.’ He reversed the scythe again, -and stood leaning his arm on the back of the blade, and staying the -handle against his knee. - -‘My dear father, had you not better put the scythe away?’ - -‘Why should I do that? I have done no harm with it. No one can set on -me for what I have cut with it—only a white old head of dandelion with -a soft neck. Think—if it had been Ezekiel Babb’s head sticking out of -the grass, with the white hair about it, and the sloe-black wicked -eyes, and with one cut of the scythe—swish, it had tumbled over, with -the stalk upwards, bleeding, bleeding, and the eyes were in the grass, -and winking because the daisies teased them and made them water.’ - -Barbara was distressed. She must change the current of his thoughts. To -do this she caught at the first thing that came into her head. - -‘Papa! I will tell you what Mr. Coyshe was talking to me about. It is -quite right, as you say, that you should know all; it is proper that -nothing should be kept from you.’ - -‘It is hardly big enough,’ said Mr. Jordan. - -‘What, papa?’ - -‘The dandelion. I can’t feel towards it as if it were Mr. Babb’s head.’ - -‘Papa,’ said Barbara, speaking rapidly, and eager to divert his mind -into another channel, ‘papa dear, do you know that the doctor is much -attached to our pet?’ - -‘It could not be otherwise. Everyone loves Eve; if they do not, they -deserve to die.’ - -‘Papa! He told me as much as that. He admires her greatly, and would -dearly like to propose for her, but, though I do not suppose he is -bashful, he is not quite sure that she cares for him.’ - -‘Eve shall have whom she will. If she does not like Coyshe, she shall -have anyone else.’ - -Then he hinted that, though he had no doubt he would make himself a -great name in his profession, and in time be very wealthy, that yet he -could not afford as he is now circumstanced to marry a wife without -means. - -‘There! there!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan, becoming again excited. ‘See how -the wrong done by Ezekiel Babb is beginning to work. There is a future, -a fine future offering for my child, but she cannot accept it. The -gate is open, but she may not pass through, because she has not the -toll-money in her hand.’ - -‘Are you sure, papa, that Mr. Coyshe would make Eve happy?’ - -‘I am sure of it. What is this place for her? She should be in the -world, be seen and received, and shine. Here she is like one hidden in -a nook. She must be brought out, she must be admired by all.’ - -‘I do not think Eve cares for him.’ - -But her father did not hear her; he went on, and as he spoke his eyes -flashed, and spots of dark red colour flared on his cheek-bones. ‘There -is no chance for poor Eve! The money is gone past recovery. Her future -is for ever blighted. I call on heaven to redress the wrong. I went -the other day to Plymouth to hear Mass, and I had but one prayer on my -lips, Avenge me on my enemy! When the choir sang “_Gloria in Excelsis, -Deo_,” I heard my heart sing a bass, “On earth a curse on the man of -ill-will.” When they sang the Hosanna! I muttered, Cursed is he that -cometh to defraud the motherless! I could not hear the Benedictus. My -heart roared out “_Imprecatus! Imprecatus sit!_” I can pray nothing -else. All my prayers turn sour in my throat, and I taste them like gall -on my tongue.’ - -‘O papa! this is horrible!’ - -Now he rested both his elbows on the back of the blade and raised his -hands, trembling with passion, as if in prayer. His long thin hair, -instead of hanging lank about his head, seemed to bristle with electric -excitement, his cheeks and lips quivered. Barbara had never seen him so -greatly moved as now, and she did not know what to do to pacify him. -She feared lest any intervention might exasperate him further. - -‘I pray,’ he began, in a low, vibrating monotone, ‘I pray to the God of -justice, who protecteth the orphan and the oppressed, that He may cause -the man that sinned to suffer; that He will whet his gleaming sword, -and smite and not spare—smite and not spare the guilty.’ His voice rose -in tone and increased in volume. Barbara looked round, in hopes of -seeing Eve, trusting that the sight of her might soothe her father, and -yet afraid of her sister seeing him in this condition. - -‘There was a time, seventeen years ago,’ continued Mr. Jordan, not -noticing Barbara, looking before him as if he saw something far beyond -the boundary walls of the house, ‘there was a time when he lifted up -his hand and voice to curse my child. I saw the black cross, and the -shadow of Eve against it, and he with his cruel black hands held her -there, nailed her with his black fingers to the black cross. And now I -lift my soul and my hands to God against him. I cry to Heaven to avenge -the innocent. Raise Thy arm and Thy glittering blade, O Lord, and -smite!’ - -Suddenly the scythe slipped from under his elbows. He uttered a sharp -cry, staggered back and fell. - -As he lay on the turf, Barbara saw a dark red stain ooze from his right -side, and spread as ink on blotting-paper. The point of the scythe had -entered his side. He put his hand to the wound, and then looked at his -palm. His face turned livid. At that moment, just as Barbara sprang to -her father, having recovered from the momentary paralysis of terror, -Eve bounded from the hall-door, holding a ball over her head in both -her hands, and shouting joyously, ‘I have the Jack! I have the Jack!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -THE RED STREAK. - - -BARBARA was not a girl to allow precious moments to be lost; instead -of giving way to emotion and exclamations, she knelt and tore off her -father’s waistcoat, ripped his shirt, and found a gash under the rib; -tearing off her kerchief she ran, sopped it in cold water, and held it -tightly to the wound. - -‘Run, Eve, run, summon help!’ she cried. But Eve was powerless to be of -assistance; she had turned white to the lips, had staggered back to the -door, and sent the Jack rolling over the turf to her father’s feet. - -‘I am faint,’ gasped poor Eve. ‘I cannot see blood.’ - -‘You must,’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘command yourself. Ring the alarm bell: -Jasper—someone—will hear.’ - -‘The power is gone from my arms,’ sobbed Eve, shivering. - -‘Call one of the maids. Bid her ring,’ ordered the elder. - -Eve, holding the sides of the door to prevent herself from falling, -deadly white, with knees that yielded under her, staggered into the -house. - -Presently the old bell hung in a pent-house over the roof of the chapel -began to give tongue. - -Barbara, kneeling behind her father, raised his head on her bosom, -and held her kerchief to his side. The first token of returning -consciousness was given by his hands, which clutched at some grass he -had cut. Then he opened his eyes. - -‘Why is the bell tolling?’ - -‘Dear papa! it is calling for help. Yon must be moved. You are badly -hurt.’ - -‘I feel it. In my side. How was it? I do not remember. Ah! the scythe. -Has the blade cut deep?’ - -‘I cannot tell, papa, till the doctor comes. Are you easier now?’ - -‘You did it. Interfering with me when I was mowing. Teasing me. You -will not leave me alone. You are always watching me. You wanted to -take the scythe from me. If you had left me alone this would not have -happened.’ - -‘Never mind, darling papa, how it happened. Now we must do our best to -cure you.’ - -‘Am I badly hurt? What are these women coming crowding round me for? I -do not want the maids here. Drive them back, Barbara.’ - -Barbara made a sign to the cook and house and kitchen maids to stand -back. - -‘You must be moved to your room, papa.’ - -‘Am I dying, Barbara?’ - -‘I hope and trust not, dear.’ - -‘I cannot die without speaking; but I will not speak till I am on the -point of death.’ - -‘Do not speak, father, at all now.’ - -He obeyed and remained quiet, with his eyes looking up at the sky. Thus -he lay till Jasper arrived breathless. He had heard the bell, and had -run, suspecting some disaster. - -‘Let me carry him, with one of the maids,’ said Jasper. - -‘No,’ answered Barbara. ‘You shall take his shoulders, I his feet. We -will carry him on a mattress. Cook and Jane have brought one. Help me -to raise him on to it.’ - -Jasper was the man she wanted. He did not lose his head. He did not -ask questions, how the accident had happened; he did not waste words in -useless lamentation. He sent a maid at once to the stable to saddle the -horse. A girl, in the country, can saddle and bridle as well as a boy. - -‘I am off for the doctor,’ he said shortly, as soon as he had seen Mr. -Jordan removed to the same downstairs room in which he had so recently -lain himself. - -‘Send for the lawyer,’ said Mr. Jordan, who had lain with his eyes shut. - -‘The lawyer, papa!’ - -‘I must make my will. I might die, and then what would become of Eve?’ - -‘Ride on to Tavistock after you have summoned Mr. Coyshe,’ said Barbara. - -When Jasper was gone, Eve, who had been fluttering about the door, came -in, and threw herself sobbing on her knees by her father’s bed. He put -out his hand, stroked her brow, and called her tender names. - -She was in great distress, reproaching herself for having asked him to -mow the grass for her; she charged herself with having wounded him. - -‘No—no, Eve!’ said her father. ‘It was not your fault. Barbara would -not let me alone. She interfered, and I lost my balance.’ - -‘I am so glad it was not I,’ sobbed Eve. - -‘Let me look at you. Stand up,’ he said. - -She rose, but averted her face somewhat, so as not to see the blood on -the sheet. He had been caressing her. Now, as he looked at her, he saw -a red streak across her forehead. - -‘My child! what is that? You are hurt! Barbara, help! She is bleeding.’ - -Barbara looked. - -‘It is nothing,’ she said; ‘your hand, papa, has left some of its -stains on her brow. Come with me, Eve, and I will wash it clean.’ - -The colour died completely out of Eve’s face, and she seemed again -about to faint. Barbara hastily bathed a napkin in fresh water, and -removed all traces of blood from her forehead, and then kissed it. - -‘Is it gone?’ whispered Eve. - -‘Entirely.’ - -‘I feel it still. I cannot remain here.’ Then the young girl crept out -of the room, hardly able to sustain herself on her feet. - -When Barbara was alone with her father, she said to him, in her quiet, -composed tones, ‘Papa, though I do not in the least think this wound -will prove fatal, I am glad you have sent for Lawyer Knighton, because -you ought to make your will, and provide for Eve. I made up my mind to -speak to you when I was on my way home from Ashburton.’ - -‘Well, what have you to say?’ - -‘Papa! I’ve been thinking that as the money laid by for Eve is gone for -ever, and as my aunt has left me a little more than sixteen hundred -pounds, you ought to give Morwell to Eve—that is, for the rest of your -term of it, some sixty-three years, I think. If you like to make a -little charge on it for me, do so, but do not let it be much. I shall -not require much to make me happy. I shall never marry. If I had a good -deal of money it is possible some man would be base enough to want -to marry me for it; but if I have only a little, no one will think -of asking me. There is no one whom I care for whom I would dream of -taking—under no circumstances—nothing would move me to it—nothing. And -as an old maid, what could I do with this property? Eve must marry. -Indeed, she can have almost anyone she likes. I do not think she cares -for the doctor, but there must be some young squire about here who -would suit her.’ - -‘Yes, Barbara, you are right.’ - -‘I am glad you think so,’ she said, smiled, and coloured, pleased with -his commendation, so rarely won. ‘No one can see Eve without loving -her. I have my little scheme. Captain Cloberry is coming home from the -army this ensuing autumn, and if he is as nice as his sisters say—then -something may come of it. But I do not know whether Eve cares or does -not care for Mr. Coyshe. He has not spoken to her yet. I think, papa, -it would be well to let him and everyone know that Morwell is not to -come to me, but is to go to Eve. Then everyone will know what to expect. - -‘It shall be so. If Mr. Knighton comes, I will get the doctor to be in -the room when I make my will, and Jasper Babb also.’ He considered for -a while, and then said, ‘In spite of all—there is good in you, Barbara. -I forgive you my wound. There—you may kiss me.’ - -As Barbara wished, and Mr. Jordan intended, so was the will executed. -Mr. Knighton, the solicitor, arrived at the same time as the surgeon; -he waited till Mr. Coyshe had bandaged up the wound, and then he -entered the sick man’s room, summoned by Barbara. - -‘My second daughter,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘is, in the eye of the law, -illegitimate. My elder daughter has urged me to do what I likewise feel -to be right—to leave my title to Morwell estate to Eve.’ - -‘What is her surname—I mean her mother’s name?’ - -‘That you need not know. I leave Morwell to my daughter Eve, commonly -called Eve Jordan. That is Barbara’s wish.’ - -‘I urged it on my father,’ said Barbara. - -Jasper, who had been called in, looked into her face with an expression -of admiration. She resented it, frowned, and averted her head. - -When the will had been properly executed, the doctor left the room with -Jasper. He had already given his instructions to Barbara how Mr. Jordan -was to be treated. Outside the door he found Eve fluttering, nervous, -alarmed, entreating to be reassured as to her father’s condition. - -‘Dear Barbie disturbed him whilst he was mowing,’ she said, ‘and he -let the scythe slip, and so got hurt.’ She was readily consoled when -assured that the old gentleman lay in no immediate danger. He must, -however, be kept quiet, and not allowed to leave his bed for some time. -Then Eve bounded away, light as a roe. The reaction set in at once. She -was like a cork in water, that can only be kept depressed by force; -remove the pressure and the cork leaps to the surface again. - -Such was her nature. She could not help it. - -‘Mr. Jasper,’ said the surgeon, ‘I have never gone over this property. -If you have a spare hour and would do me a favour, I should like to -look about me. The quality of the land is good?’ - -‘Excellent.’ - -‘Is there anywhere a map of the property that I could run my eye over?’ - -‘In the study.’ - -‘What about the shooting, now?’ - -‘It is not preserved. If it were it would be good, the cover is so -fine.’ - -‘And there seems to be a good deal of timber.’ - -After about an hour Mr. Coyshe rode away. ‘Some men are Cyclopses, as -far as their own interests are concerned,’ said he to himself; ‘they -carry but a single eye. I invariably use two.’ - -In the evening, when Barbara came to her sister’s room to tell her that -she intended to sit up during the night with her father, she said: -‘Mr. Jasper is very kind. He insists on taking half the watch, he will -relieve me at two o’clock. What is the matter with you, Eve?’ - -‘I can see nothing, Barbie, but it is there still.’ - -‘What is?’ - -‘That red mark. I have been rubbing, and washing, and it burns like -fire.’ - -‘I can see, my dear Eve, that where you have rubbed your pretty white -delicate skin, you have made it red.’ - -‘I have rubbed it in. I feel it. I cannot get the feel away. It stains -me. It hurts me. It burns me.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -A BUNCH OF ROSES. - - -MR. JORDAN’S wound was not dangerous, but the strictest rest was -enjoined. He must keep his bed for some days. As when Jasper was ill, -so now that her father was an invalid, the principal care devolved on -Barbara. No reliance could be placed on Eve, who was willing enough, -but too thoughtless and forgetful to be trusted. When Barbara returned -from Ashburton she found her store closet in utter confusion: bags of -groceries opened and not tied up again, bottles of sauces upset and -broken, coffee berries and rice spilled over the floor, lemons with the -sugar, become mouldy, and dissolving the sugar. The linen cupboard was -in a similar disorder: sheets pulled out and thrust back unfolded in a -crumpled heap, pillow-cases torn up for dusters, blankets turned out -and left in a damp place, where the moth had got to them. Now, rather -than give the keys to Eve, Barbara retained them, and was kept all day -engaged without a moment’s cessation. She was not able to sit much with -her father, but Eve could do that, and her presence soothed the sick -man. Eve, however, would not remain long in the room with her father. -She was restless, her spirits flagged, and Mr. Jordan himself insisted -on her going out. Then she would run to Jasper Babb, if he were near. -She had taken a great fancy to him. He was kind to her; he treated her -as a child, and accommodated himself to her humours. Barbara could not -now be with her. Besides, Barbara had not that craving for colour and -light, and melody and poetry, that formed the very core of Eve’s soul. -The elder sister was severely practical. She liked what was beautiful, -as a well-educated young lady is required by society to have such a -liking, but it was not instinctive in her, it was in no way a passion. -Jasper, on the other hand, responded to the æsthetic longings of Eve. -He could sympathise with her raptures; Barbara laughed at them. It is -said that everyone sees his own rainbow, but there are many who are -colour-blind and see no rainbows, only raindrops. Wherever Eve looked -she saw rainbows. Jasper had a strong fibre of poetry in him, and he -was able to read the girl’s character and understand the uncertain -aspirations of her heart. He thought that Barbara was mistaken in -laughing down and showing no interest in her enthusiasms, and he sought -to give her vague aspirations some direction, and her cravings some -satisfaction. - -Eve appreciated his efforts. She saw that he understood her, which -Barbara did not; she and Jasper had a world of ideas in common from -which her sister was shut out. Eve took great delight in talking to -Jasper, but her chief delight was in listening to him when he played -the violin, or in accompanying him on the piano. Old violin music was -routed out of the cupboards, fresh was ordered. Jasper introduced her -to a great deal of very beautiful classical music of which she was -ignorant. Hitherto she had been restrained to a few meagre collections: -the ‘Musical Treasury,’ the ‘Sacred Harmonist,’ and the like. Now, with -her father’s consent, she ordered the operas of Mozart, Beethoven’s -sonatas, Rossini, Boieldieu, and was guided, a ready pupil, by Jasper -into this new and enchanted world. By this means Jasper gave Eve an -interest, which hitherto she had lacked—a pursuit which she followed -with eagerness. - -Barbara was dissatisfied. She thought Jasper was encouraging Eve in -her frivolity, was diverting her from the practical aims of life. She -was angry with Jasper, and misinterpreted his motives. The friendship -subsisting between her sister and the young steward was too warm. How -far would it go? How was it to be arrested? Eve was inexperienced and -wilful. Before she knew where she was, Jasper would have gained her -young heart. She was so headstrong that Barbara doubted whether a word -of caution would avail anything. Nevertheless, convinced that it was -her duty to interfere, she did speak, and, of course, gained nothing by -so doing. Barbara lacked tact. She spoke to Eve plainly, but guardedly. - -‘Why, Bab! what are you thinking of? Why should I not be with Mr. -Jasper?’ answered Eve to her sister’s expostulation. ‘I like him -vastly; he talks delightfully, he knows so much about music, he plays -and sings the tears into my eyes, and sets my feet tingling to dance. -Papa does not object. When we are practising I leave the parlour door -open for papa to hear. He says he enjoys listening. Oh, Barbie! I wish -you loved music as I do. But as you don’t, let me go my way with the -music, and you go your way with the groceries.’ - -‘My dearest sister,’ said Barbara, ‘I do not think it looks well to see -you running after Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘Looks well!’ repeated Eve. ‘Who is to see me? Morwell is quite out -of the world. Besides,’ she screwed up her pretty mouth to a pout, ‘I -don’t run after him, he runs after me, of course.’ - -‘My dear, dear Eve,’ said Barbara earnestly, ‘you must not suffer him -to do so.’ - -‘Why not?’ asked Eve frankly. ‘You like Ponto and puss to run after -you, and the little black calf, and the pony in the paddock. What is -the difference? You care for one sort of animals, and I for another. I -detest dogs and cats and bullocks.’ - -‘Eve, sweetheart’—poor Barbara felt her powerlessness to carry her -point, even to make an impression, but in her conscientiousness -believed herself bound to go on—’your conduct is indiscreet. We must -never part with our self-respect. That is the guardian angel given to -girls by God.’ - -‘Oh, Bab!’ Eve burst out laughing. ‘What a dear, grave old Mother -Hubbard you are! I am always doing, and always will do, exactly -opposite to what you intend and expect. I know why you are lecturing -me now. I will tell Mr. Jasper how jealous you have become.’ - -‘For heaven’s sake!’ exclaimed Barbara, springing to her feet—she had -been sitting beside Eve—’do nothing of the sort. Do not mention my -name to him. I am not jealous. It is an insult to me to make such a -suggestion. Do I ever seek his company? Do I not shun it? No, Eve, I am -moved only by uneasiness for you. You are thoughtless, and are playing -a dangerous game with that man. When he sees how you seek his society, -it flatters him, and his vanity will lead him to think of you with more -warmth than is well. Understand this, Eve—there is a bar between him -and you which should make the man keep his distance, and he shows a -wicked want of consideration when he draws near you, relying on your -ignorance.’ - -‘What are you hinting at?’ - -‘I cannot speak out as I wish, but I assure you of this, Eve, unless -you are more careful of your conduct, I shall be forced to take steps -to get Jasper Babb dismissed.’ - -Eve laughed, clapped her hands on her sister’s cheeks, kissed her lips -and said, ‘You dear old Mother Hubbard, you can’t do it. Papa would not -listen to you if I told him that I wanted Jasper to stay.’ - -Barbara was hurt. This was true, but it was unkind of Eve to say it. -The young girl was herself aware that she had spoken unfeelingly, was -sorry, and tried to make amends by coaxing her sister. - -‘I want you to tell me,’ said Barbara, very gravely, ‘for you have not -told me yet, who gave you the ring?’ - -‘I did not tell you because you said you knew. No one carries water to -the sea or coals to Newcastle.’ - -‘Be candid with me, Eve.’ - -‘Am not I open as the day? Why should you complain?’ - -‘Eve, be serious. Was it Mr. Jasper who gave you the turquoise ring?’ - -‘Jasper!’ Eve held out her skirts daintily, and danced and made -curtsies round her sister, in the prettiest, most coquettish, laughing -way. ‘You dearest, you best, you most jealous of sisters; we will -not quarrel over poor good Jasper. I don’t mind how much you pet the -black calf. How absurd you are! You make me laugh sometimes at your -density. There, do not cry. I would tell you all if I dared.’ Then -warbling a strain, and still holding her skirts out, she danced as in a -minuet, slowly out of the room, looking back over her shoulder at her -distressed sister. - -That was all Barbara had got by speaking—nothing, absolutely nothing. -She knew that Eve would not be one wit more guarded in her conduct for -what had been said to her. Barbara revolved in her mind the threat she -had rashly made of driving Jasper away. That would necessitate the -betrayal of his secret. Could she bring herself to this? Hardly. No, -the utmost she could do was to threaten him that, unless he voluntarily -departed, she would reveal the secret to her father. - -A day or two after this scene, Barbara was again put to great distress -by Eve’s conduct. - -She knew well enough that she and her sister were invited to the -Cloberrys to an afternoon party and dance. Eve had written and accepted -before the accident to Mr. Jordan. Barbara had let her write, because -she was herself that day much engaged and could not spare time. The -groom had ridden over from Bradstone manor, and was waiting for an -answer, just whilst Barbara was weighing out sago and tapioca. When Mr. -Jordan was hurt, Barbara had wished to send a boy to Bradstone with a -letter declining the party, but Mr. Coyshe had said that her father was -not in danger, had insisted on Eve promising him a couple of dances, -and had so strictly combated her desire to withdraw that she had given -way. - -In the afternoon, when the girls were ready to go, they came downstairs -to kiss their father, and let him see them in their pretty dresses. -The little carriage was at the door. - -In the hall they met Jasper Babb, also dressed for the party. He held -in his hands two lovely bouquets, one of yellow tea-scented roses, -which he handed to Barbara, the other of Malmaison, delicate white, -with a soft inner blush, which he offered to Eve. Whence had he -procured them? No doubt he had been for them to a nursery at Tavistock. - -Eve was in raptures over her Malmaison; it was a new rose, quite -recently introduced, and she had never seen it before. She looked at -it, uttered exclamations of delight, smelt at the flowers, then ran off -to her father that she might show him her treasures. - -Barbara thanked Jasper somewhat stiffly; she was puzzled. Why was he -dressed? - -‘Are you going to ride, or to drive us?’ asked Eve, skipping into the -hall again. She had put her bunch in her girdle. She was charmingly -dressed, with rose satin ribands in her hair, about her throat, round -her waist. Her face was, in colour, itself like a souvenir de la -Malmaison rose. - -‘Whom are you addressing?’ asked Barbara seriously. - -‘I am speaking to Jasper,’ answered Eve. - -‘_Mr._ Jasper,’ said Barbara, ‘was not invited to Bradstone.’ - -‘Oh, that does not matter!’ said the ready Eve. ‘I accepted for him. -You know, dear Bab—I mean Barbie—that I had to write, as you were up to -your neck in tapioca. Well, at these parties there are so many girls -and so few gentlemen, that I thought I would give the Cloberry girls -and Mr. Jasper a pleasure at once, so I wrote to say that you and I -accepted and would bring with us a young gentleman, a friend of papa, -who was staying in the house. Mr. Jasper ought to know the neighbours, -and get some pleasure.’ - -Barbara was aghast. - -‘I think, Miss Eve, you have been playing tricks with me,’ said -Jasper. ‘Surely I understood you that I had been specially invited, and -that you had accordingly accepted for me.’ - -‘Did I?’ asked Eve carelessly; ‘it is all the same. The Cloberry -girls will be delighted to see you. Last time I was there they said -they hoped to have an afternoon dance, but were troubled how to find -gentlemen as partners for all the pretty Misses.’ - -‘That being so,’ said Barbara sternly, turning as she spoke to Jasper, -‘of course you do not go?’ - -‘Not go!’ exclaimed Eve; ‘to be sure he goes. We are engaged to each -other for a score of dances.’ Then, seeing the gloom gathering on her -sister’s brow, she explained, ‘It is a plan between us so as to get -free from Doctor Squash. When Squash asks my hand, I can say I am -engaged. I have been booked by him for two dances, and he shall have no -more.’ - -‘You have been inconsiderate,’ said Barbara. ‘Unfortunately Mr. Babb -cannot leave Morwell, as my father is in his bed—it is not possible.’ - -‘I have no desire to go,’ said Jasper. - -‘I do not suppose you have,’ said Barbara haughtily, turning to him. -‘You are judge of what is right and fitting—in every way.’ - -Then Eve’s temper broke out. Her cheeks flushed, her lips quivered, -and the tears started into her eyes. ‘I will not allow Mr. Jasper to -be thus treated,’ she exclaimed. ‘I cannot understand you, Barbie; how -can you, who are usually so considerate, grudge Mr. Jasper a little -pleasure? He has been working hard for papa, and he has been kind -to me, and he has made your garden pretty, and now you are mean and -ungrateful, and send him back to his room when he is dressed for the -party. I’ll go and ask papa to interfere.’ - -Then she ran off to her father’s room. - -The moment Eve was out of hearing, Barbara’s anger blazed forth. ‘You -are not acting right. You forget your position; you forget who you -are. How dare you allow my sister——? If you had a spark of honour, -a grain of good feeling in your heart, you would keep her at arm’s -length. She is a child, inconsiderate and confiding; you are a man with -such a foul stain on your name, that you must not come near those who -are clean, lest you smirch them. Keep to yourself, sir! Away!’ - -‘Miss Jordan,’ he answered, with a troubled expression on his face and -a quiver in his voice, ‘you are hard on me. I had no desire whatever to -go to this dance, but Miss Eve told me it was arranged that I was to -go, and I am obedient in this house. Of course, now I withdraw.’ - -‘Of course you do. Good heavens! In a few days some chance might bring -all to light, and then it would be the scandal of the neighbourhood -that we had introduced—that Eve had danced with—an escaped jail-bird—a -vulgar thief.’ - -She walked out through the door, and threw the bunch of yellow roses -upon the plot of grass in the quadrangle. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -WHERE THEY WITHERED. - - -BARBARA did not enjoy the party at the Cloberrys. She was dull and -abstracted. It was otherwise with Eve. During the drive she had sulked; -she was in a pet with Barbara, who was a stupid, tiresome marplot. But -when she arrived at Bradstone and was surrounded by admirers, when -she had difficulty, not in getting partners, but in selecting among -those who pressed themselves on her, Eve’s spirits were elated. She -forgot about Jasper, Barbara, her father, about everything but present -delight. With sparkling eyes, heightened colour, and dimples that -came and went in her smiling face, she sailed past Barbara without -observing her, engrossed in the pleasure of the dance, and in playing -with her partner. - -Barbara was content to be unnoticed. She sat by herself in a corner, -scarce noticing what went on, so wrapped up was she in her thoughts. -Her mood was observed by her hostess, and attributed to anxiety for -her father. Mrs. Cloberry went to her, seated herself at her side, and -talked to her kindly about Mr. Jordan and his accident. - -‘You have a friend staying with you. We rather expected him,’ said Mrs. -Cloberry. - -‘Oh!’ Barbara answered, ‘that was dear Eve’s nonsense. She is a child, -and does not think. My father has engaged a steward; of course he could -not come.’ - -‘How lovely Eve is!’ said Mrs. Cloberry. ‘I think I never saw so -exquisite a creature.’ - -‘And she is as good and sweet as she is lovely,’ answered Barbara, -always eager to sing her sister’s praises. - -Eve’s roses were greatly admired. She had her posy out of her waistband -showing the roses, and many a compliment was occasioned by them. -‘Barbara had a beautifull bouquet also,’ she said, and looked round. -‘Oh, Bab! where are your yellow roses?’ - -‘I have dropped them,’ answered Barbara. - -Besides dancing there was singing. Eve required little pressing. - -‘My dear Miss Jordan,’ said Mrs. Cloberry, ‘how your sister has -improved in style. Who has been giving her lessons?’ - -The party was a pleasant one; it broke up early. It began at four -o’clock and was over when the sun set. As the sisters drove home, Eve -prattled as a brook over stones. She had perfectly enjoyed herself. -She had outshone every girl present, had been much courted and greatly -flattered. Eve was not a vain girl; she knew she was pretty, and -accepted homage as her right. Her father and sister had ever been her -slaves; and she expected to find everyone wear chains before her. But -there was no vulgar conceit about her. A queen born to wear the crown -grows up to expect reverence and devotion. It is her due. So with Eve; -she had been a queen in Morwell since infancy. - -Barbara listened to her talk and answered her in monosyllables, but her -mind was not with the subject of Eve’s conversation. She was thinking -then, and she had been thinking at Bradstone, whilst the floor throbbed -with dancing feet, whilst singers were performing, of that bouquet of -yellow roses which she had flung away. Was it still lying on the grass -in the quadrangle? Had Jane, the housemaid, seen it, picked it up, and -taken it to adorn the kitchen table? - -She knew that Jasper must have taken a long walk to procure those two -bunches of roses. She knew that he could ill afford the expense. When -he was ill, she had put aside his little purse containing his private -money, and had counted it, to make sure that none was lost or taken. -She knew that he was poor. Out of the small sum he owned he must have -paid a good deal for these roses. - -She had thrown her bunch away in angry scorn, under his eyes. She had -been greatly provoked; but—had she behaved in a ladylike and Christian -spirit? She might have left her roses in a tumbler in the parlour or -the hall. That would have been a courteous rebuff—but to fling them -away! - -There are as many conflicting currents in the human soul as in the -ocean; some run from east to west, and some from north to south, some -are sweet and some bitter, some hot and others cold. Only in the -Sargasso Sea are there no currents—and that is a sea of weeds. What we -believe to-day we reject to-morrow; we are resentful at one moment over -a wrong inflicted, and are repentant the next for having been ourselves -the wrong-doer. Barbara had been in fiery indignation at three o’clock -against Jasper; by five she was cooler, and by six reproached herself. - -As the sisters drove into the little quadrangle, Barbara turned her -head aside, and whilst she made as though she were unwinding the -knitted shawl that was wrapt about her head, she looked across the -turf, and saw lying, where she had cast it, the bunch of roses. - -The stable-boy came with his lantern to take the horse and carriage, -and the sisters dismounted. Jane appeared at the hall door to divest -them of their wraps. - -‘How is papa?’ asked Eve; then, without waiting for an answer, she -ran into her father’s room to kiss him and tell him of the party, and -show herself again in her pretty dress, and again receive his words of -praise and love. - -But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding her cloak. Then she -put both her own and her sister’s parasols together in the stand. Then -she stood brushing her soles on the mat—quite unnecessarily, as they -were not dirty. - -‘You may go away, Jane,’ said Barbara to the maid, who lingered at the -door. - -‘Please, Miss, I’m waiting for you to come in, that I may lock up.’ - -Then Barbara was obliged to enter. - -‘Has Mr. Babb been with my father?’ she asked. - -‘No, Miss. I haven’t seen him since you left.’ - -‘You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to-morrow, and you will -have to be up at four. Has not Mr. Babb had his supper?’ - -‘No, Miss. He has not been here at all.’ - -‘That will do.’ She signed the maid to leave. - -She stood in the hall, hesitating. Should she unbar the door and go out -and recover the roses? Eve would leave her father’s room in a moment, -and ask questions which it would be inconvenient to answer. Let them -lie. She went upstairs with her sister, after having wished her father -good-night. - -‘Barbie, dear!’ said Eve, ‘did you observe Mr. Squash?’ - -‘Do not, Eve. That is not his name.’ - -‘I think he looked a little disconcerted. I repudiated.’ - -‘What do you mean?’ - -‘I refused to be bound by the engagements we had made for a quadrille -and a waltz. I did not want to dance with him, and I did not.’ - -‘Run back into your room, darling, and go to bed.’ - -When Barbara was alone she went to her window and opened it. The window -looked into the court. If she leaned her head out far, she could see -where the bunch of roses ought to be. But she could not see them, -though she looked, for the grass lay dusk in the shadows. The moon -was rising, and shone on the long roof like steel, and the light was -creeping down the wall. That long roof was over the washhouse, and -next morning at early dawn the maids would cross the quadrangle with -the linen and carry fuel, and would either trample on or pick up and -appropriate the bunch of yellow roses. - -Barbara remembered every word that she had said to Jasper. She could -not forget—and now could not forgive herself. Her words had been cruel; -how they must have wounded him! He had not been seen since. Perhaps -he was gone and would not return again. They and she would see him no -more. That would be well in one way, it would relieve her of anxiety -about Eve; but, on the other hand, Jasper had proved himself most -useful, and, above all—he was repentant. Her treatment of him might -make him desperate, and cause him to abandon his resolutions to amend. -Barbara knelt at the window, and prayed. - -The white owls were flying about the old house. They had their nests -in the great barn. The bats were squeaking as they whisked across the -quadrangle, hunting gnats. - -When Barbara rose from her knees her eyes were moist. She stood on -tiptoe and looked forth from the casement again. The moonlight had -reached the sward, drawing a sharp line of light across it, broken by -one brighter speck—the bunch of roses. - -Then Barbara, without her shoes, stole downstairs. There was sufficient -light in the hall for her to find her way across it to the main door. -She very softly unbarred it, and still in her stockings, unshod, went -out on the doorstep, over the gravel, the dewy grass, and picked up the -cold wet bunch. - -Then she slipped in again, refastened the door, and with beating heart -regained her room. - -Now that she had the roses, what should she do with them? She stood in -the middle of her room near the candle, looking at them. They were not -much faded. The sun had not reached them, and the cool grass had kept -them fresh. They were very delicately formed, lovely roses, and freshly -sweet. What should she do with them? If they were put in a tumbler they -would flourish for a few days, and then the leaves would fall off, and -leave a dead cluster of seedless rose-hearts. - -Barbara had a desk that had belonged to her mother, and this desk had -in it a secret drawer. In this drawer Barbara preserved a few special -treasures; a miniature of her mother, a silver cold-cream capsule with -the head of Queen Anne on it, that had belonged to her grandmother, the -ring of brilliants and sapphire that had come to her from her aunt, and -a lock of Eve’s hair when she was a baby. Barbara folded the roses in a -sheet of white paper, wrote in pencil on it the date, and placed them -in the secret drawer, there to wither along with the greatest treasures -she possessed. - -Barbara’s heart was no Sargasso Sea. In it ran currents strong and -contrary. What she cast away with scorn in the afternoon, she sought -and hid as a treasure in the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -LEAH AND RACHEL. - - -SUNDAY was a quiet day at Morwell. As the Jordans were Catholics they -did not attend their parish church, which was Tavistock, some four -miles distant. The servants went, or pretended to go. Morwell was quiet -on all days, it was most quiet of all on a bright Sunday, for then -there were fewest people about the old house. - -Jasper Babb had not run away, offended at Barbara’s rudeness. He went -about his work as usual, was as little seen of the sisters as might be, -and silent when in their company. - -On Sunday evening Barbara and Eve strolled out together; it was their -wont to do so on that day, when the weather permitted. Jane, the -housemaid, was at home with their father. - -They directed their steps as usual to the Raven Rock, which commanded -so splendid a view to the west, was so airy, and so sunny a spot that -they liked to sit there and talk. It was not often that Barbara had the -leisure for such a ramble; on Sundays she made a point of it. As the -two girls emerged from the wood, and came out on the platform of rock, -they were surprised to see Jasper seated there with a book on his knee. -He rose at once on hearing their voices and seeing them. If he had -wished to escape, escape was impossible, for the rock descends on all -sides sheer to great depths, except where the path leads to it. - -‘Do not let us disturb you,’ said Barbara; ‘we will withdraw if we -interrupt your studies.’ - -‘What is the book?’ asked Eve. ‘If it be poetry, read us something from -it.’ - -He hesitated a moment, then with a smile said, ‘It contains the noblest -poetry—it is my Bible.’ - -‘The Bible!’ exclaimed Barbara. She was pleased. He certainly was -sincere in his repentance. He would not have gone away to a private -spot to read the sacred volume unless he were in earnest. - -‘Let us sit down, Barbie!’ said Eve. ‘Don’t run away, Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘As Mr. Jasper was reading, and you asked him to give you something -from the book, I will join in the request.’ - -‘I thought it was perhaps—Byron,’ said Eve. - -‘As it is not Byron, but something better, we shall be all the better -satisfied to have it read to us,’ said Barbara. - -‘Well, then, some of the story part, please,’ asked Eve, screwing up -her mouth, ‘and not much of it.’ - -‘I should prefer a Psalm,’ said Barbara; ‘or a chapter from one of the -Epistles.’ - -‘I do not know what to read,’ Jasper said smiling, ‘as each of you asks -for something different.’ - -‘I have an idea,’ exclaimed Eve. ‘He shall hold the book shut. I will -close my eyes and open the volume at hap-hazard, and point with my -finger. He shall read that, and we can conjure from it, or guess our -characters, or read our fate. Then you shall do the same. Will that -please you?’ - -‘I do not know about guessing characters and reading our fate; our -characters we know by introspection, and the future is hidden from our -eyes by the same Hand that sent the book. But if you wish Mr. Jasper to -be guided by this method what to read, I do not object.’ - -‘Very well,’ said Eve, in glee; ‘that will be fun! You will promise, -Barbie, to shut your eyes when you open and put your finger on a page? -And, Mr. Jasper, you promise to read exactly what my sister and I -select?’ - -‘Yes,’ answered both to whom she appealed. - -‘But mind this,’ pursued the lively girl; ‘you must stop as soon as I -am tired.’ - -Then first, eager in all she did that promised entertainment or -diversion, she took the Bible from Mr. Babb’s hands, and closed her -eyes; a pretty smile played about her flexible lips as she sat groping -with her finger among the pages. Then she opened the book and her blue -orbs together. - -‘There!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have made my choice; yet—wait! I will mark -my place, and then pass the book to Bab—I mean, Barbie.’ She had a wild -summer rose in her bosom. She pulled off a petal, touched it with her -tongue, and put the leaf at the spot she had selected. - -Then she shut the Bible with a snap, laughed, and handed it to her -sister. - -‘I need not shut my eyes,’ said Barbara; ‘I will look you full in the -face, Eve.’ Then she took the book and felt for the end pages that she -might light on an Epistle; just as she saw that Eve had groped for an -early part of the book that she might have a story from the times of -the patriarchs. She did not know that Eve in handing her the book had -not turned it; consequently she held the Bible reversed. Barbara held a -buttercup in her hand. She was so accustomed to use her fingers, that -it was strange to her to have nothing to employ them. As they came -through the meadows she had picked a few flowers, broken the stalks and -thrown them away. There remained in her hand but one buttercup. - -Barbara placed the Bible on her lap; she, like Eve, had seated herself -on the rocky ledge. Then she opened near what she believed to be the -end of the book, and laid the golden cup on a page. - -Eve leaned towards her and looked, and uttered an exclamation. - -‘What is it?’ asked Barbara, and looked also. - -Behold! the golden flower of Barbara was shining on the pink petal of -Eve’s rose. - -‘We have chosen the same place. Now, Barbie, what do you say to this? -Is it a chance, or are we going to learn our fate, which is bound up -together, from the passage Mr. Jasper is about to read?’ - -‘There is no mystery in the matter,’ said Barbara quietly; ‘you did not -turn the book when you gave it to me, and it naturally opened where -your flower lay.’ - -‘Go on, Mr. Jasper,’ exhorted Eve. But the young man seemed -ill-disposed to obey. - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara; ‘begin. We are ready.’ - -Then Jasper began to read:— - -‘Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of the people of the -east. And he looked, and behold a well in a field, and, lo, there were -flocks of sheep lying by it.’ - -‘I am glad we are going to have this story,’ said Eve; ‘I like it. It -is a pretty one. Jacob came to that house of Laban just as you, Mr. -Babb, have come to Morwell.’ - -Jasper read on:— - -‘And Laban had two daughters: now the name of the elder was Leah, and -the name of the younger was Rachel. Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel -was beautiful and well-favoured.’ - -Barbara was listening, but as she listened she looked away into the -blue distance over the vast gulf of the Tamar valley towards the -Cornish moors, the colour of cobalt, with a salmon sky above them. -Something must at that moment have struck the mind of Jasper, for he -paused in his reading, and his eyes sought hers. - -She said in a hard tone, ‘Go on.’ - -Then he continued in a low voice, ‘And Jacob loved Rachel; and said, I -will serve thee seven years for Rachel, thy younger daughter. And Laban -said, It is better that I give her to thee, than that I should give her -to another man: abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; -and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he had to her.’ - -The reader again paused; and again with a hard voice Barbara bade him -proceed. - -‘And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my days are -fulfilled. And Laban gathered together all the men of the place, and -made a feast. And it came to pass in the evening, that he took Leah his -daughter, and brought her to Jacob.’ - -‘That will do,’ said Eve, ‘I am tired.’ - -‘It seems to me,’ said Barbara, in a subdued tone, ‘that Leah was a -despicable woman, a woman without self-respect. She took the man, -though she knew his heart was set on Rachel, and that he did not care a -rush for her. No!—I do not like the story. It is odious.’ She stood up -and, beckoning to Eve, left the platform of rock. - -Jasper remained where he had been, without closing the book, without -reading further, lost in thought. Then a small head appeared above the -side of the rock where it jutted out of the bank of underwood, also a -pair of hands that clutched at the projecting points of stone; and in -another moment a boy had pulled himself on to the platform, and lay on -it with his feet dangling over the edge, his head and breast raised on -his hands. He was laughing. - -‘What! dreaming, Master Jasper Jacob? Of which? Of the weak-eyed Leah -or the blue-orbed Rachel?’ - -The young man started as if he had been stung. - -‘What has brought you here, Watt? No good, I fear.’ - -‘O my dear Jasper, there you are out. Goodness personified has brought -me here—even your own pious self, sitting Bible-reading to two pretty -girls. How happy could I be with either! Eh, Jasper?’ - -‘What do you want with me?’ asked Jasper, reddening; ‘I detest your -fun.’ - -‘Which is it?’ taunted the mischievous boy. ‘Which—the elder, plain -and dark; or the younger, beautiful as dawn? or—like the patriarch -Jacob—both?’ - -‘Enough of this, Watt. What has brought you here?’ - -‘To see you, of course. I know you think me void of all Christianity, -but I have that in me yet, I like to know the whereabouts of my -brother, and how he is getting on. I am still with Martin—ever on the -move, like the sun, like the winds, like the streams, like everything -that does not stagnate.’ - -‘It is a hard thing for me to say,’ said Jasper, ‘but it is true. Poor -Martin would be better without you. He would be another man, and his -life not blighted, had it not been for your profane and mocking tongue. -He was a generous-hearted fellow, thoughtless, but not wicked; you, -however, have gained complete power over him, and have used it for -evil. Your advice is for the bad, your sneers for what is good.’ - -‘I do not know good from bad,’ said the boy, with a contemptuous grin. - -‘Watt, you have scoffed at every good impulse in Martin’s heart, you -have drowned the voice of his conscience by your gibes. It is you who -have driven him with your waspish tongue along the road of ruin.’ - -‘Not at all, Jasper; there you wrong me. It was you who had the undoing -of Martin. You have loved him and screened him since he was a child. -You have taken the punishment and blame on you which he deserved by his -misconduct. Of course he is a giddypate. It is you who have let him -grow up without dread of the consequences of wrong-doing, because the -punishment always fell on you. You, Jasper, have spoiled Martin, not I.’ - -‘Well, Watt, this may be so. Father was unduly harsh. I had no one -else to love at home but my brother Martin. You were such a babe as to -be no companion. And Martin I did—I do love. Such a noble, handsome, -frank-hearted brother! All sunshine and laughter! My childhood had -been charged with grief and shadow, and I did my best to screen him. -One must love something in this world, or the heart dies. I loved my -brother.’ - -‘Love, love!’ laughed Watt. ‘Now you have that heart so full that -it is overflowing towards two nice girls. I suppose that, enthralled -between blue eyes and brown, you have no thought left for Martin, none -for father—who, by the way, is dying.’ - -‘Dying!’ exclaimed Jasper, springing to his feet. - -‘There, now!’ said the boy; ‘don’t in your astonishment topple over the -edge of the precipice into kingdom come.’ - -‘How do you know this, Watt?’ asked Jasper in great agitation. - -‘Because I have been to Buckfastleigh and seen the beastly old hole, -and the factory, and the grey rat in his hole, curled up, gnawing his -nails and squealing with pain.’ - -‘For shame of you, Watt! you have no reverence even for your father.’ - -‘Reverence, Jasper! none in the world for anybody or anything. -Everything like reverence was killed out of me by my training.’ - -‘What is the matter with father?’ - -‘How should I tell? I saw him making contortions and yowling. I did not -approach too near lest he should bite.’ - -‘I shall go at once,’ said Jasper earnestly. - -‘Of course you will. You are the heir. Eh! Jasper! When you come in for -the house and cloth mill, you will extend to us the helping hand. O you -saint! Why don’t you dance as I do? Am I taken in by your long face? -Ain’t I sure that your heart is beating because now at last you will -come in for the daddy’s collected money? Poor Martin! He can’t come and -share. You won’t be mean, but divide, Jasper? I’ll be the go-between.’ - -‘Be silent, you wicked boy!’ said Jasper angrily; ‘I cannot endure your -talk. It is repugnant to me.’ - -‘Because I talk of sharing. You, the saint! He sniffs filthy mammon -and away he flies like a crow to carrion. Good-bye, Jasper! Away you -go like an arrow from the bow. Don’t let that old housekeeper rummage -the stockings stuffed with guineas out of the chimney before you get to -Buckfastleigh!’ - -Jasper left the rock and strode hastily towards Morwell, troubled at -heart at the news given him. Had he looked behind him as he entered the -wood, he would have seen the boy making grimaces, capering, clapping -his hands and knees, whistling, screaming snatches of operatic tunes, -laughing, and shouting ‘Which is it to be, Rachel or Leah?’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -AN IMP OF DARKNESS. - - -JASPER went immediately to Mr. Jordan. He found Eve with her father. -Jane, the housemaid, had exhibited signs of restlessness and impatience -to be off. Joseph Woodman, the policeman from Tavistock, a young and -sleepy man who was paying her his addresses, had appeared at the -kitchen window and coughed. He was off duty, and Jane thought it hard -that she should be on when he was off. So Eve had let her depart with -her lover. - -‘Well,’ said Mr. Jordan, who was still in bed, ‘what is it? Do you want -me?’ - -‘I have come to ask your permission to leave for a few days. I must go -to my father, who is dying. I will return as soon as I can.’ - -Eve’s great blue eyes opened with amazement. ‘You said nothing about -this ten minutes ago.’ - -‘I did not know it then.’ - -‘What!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan, trying to rise on his elbow, and his eyes -brightening, ‘Ezekiel Babb dying! Is justice overtaking him at last?’ - -‘I hear that he is dying,’ said Jasper; ‘it is my duty to go to him.’ - -‘If he dies,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘to whom will his property go?’ - -‘Probably to me; but it is premature to inquire.’ - -‘Not at all. My Eve has been robbed——’ - -‘Sir!’ said Jasper gravely, ‘I undertook to repay that sum as soon as -it should be in my power to do so, principal and interest. I have your -permission, sir?’ He bowed and withdrew. - -At supper Barbara looked round, and noticed the absence of Jasper Babb, -but she said nothing. - -‘You need not look at that empty chair,’ said Eve; ‘Mr. Jasper will not -be here. He is gone.’ - -‘Gone where?’ - -‘Called away suddenly. His father is dying.’ - -Barbara raised her eyebrows. She was greatly puzzled. She sat playing -with her fork, and presently said, ‘This is very odd—who brought the -news?’ - -‘I saw no one. He came in almost directly after we left him on the -Raven Rock.’ - -‘But no one came up to the house.’ - -‘Oh, yes—Joseph Woodman, Jane’s sweetheart, the policeman.’ - -‘He cannot have brought the news.’ - -‘I do not think Mr. Jasper saw him, but I cannot say.’ - -‘I cannot understand it, Eve,’ mused Barbara. ‘What is more, I do not -believe it.’ - -Barbara was more puzzled and disturbed than she chose to show. How -could Jasper have received news of his father? If the old man had sent -a messenger, that messenger would have come to the house and rested -there, and been refreshed with a glass of cider and cake and cold beef. -No one had been to the house but the policeman, and a policeman was not -likely to be made the vehicle of communication between old Babb and -his son, living in concealment. More probably Jasper had noticed that -a policeman was hovering about Morwell, had taken alarm, and absented -himself. - -Then that story of Jacob serving for Rachel and being given Leah came -back on her. Was it not being in part enacted before her eyes? Was not -Jasper there acting as steward to her father, likely to remain there -for some years, and all the time with the love of Eve consuming his -heart? ‘And the seven years seemed unto him but a few days for the love -that he had to her.’ What of Eve? Would she come to care for him, and -in her wilfulness insist on having him? It could not be. It must not -be. Please God, now that Jasper was gone, he would not return. Then, -again, her mind swung back to the perplexing question of the reason of -Jasper’s departure. He _could_ not go home. It was out of the question -his showing his face again at Buckfastleigh. He would be recognised and -taken immediately. Why did he invent and pass off on her father such a -falsehood as an excuse for his disappearance? If he were made uneasy -by the arrival of the Tavistock policeman at the house, he might have -found some other excuse, but to deliberately say that his father was -dying and that he must attend his deathbed, this was monstrous. - -Eve remained till late, sitting in the parlour without a light. The -servant maids were all out. Their eagerness to attend places of -worship on Sunday—especially Sunday evenings—showed a strong spirit of -devotion; and the lateness of the hour to which those acts of worship -detained them proved also that their piety was of stubborn and enduring -quality. Generally, one of the maids remained at home, but on this -occasion Barbara and Eve had allowed Jane to go out when she had laid -the table for supper, because her policeman had come, and there was to -be a love-feast at the little dissenting chapel which Jane attended. -The lover having turned up, the love-feast must follow. - -As the servants had not returned, Barbara remained below, waiting till -she heard their voices. Her father was dozing. She looked in at him -and then returned to her place by the latticed window. The room was -dark, but there was silvery light in the summer sky, becoming very -white towards the north. Outside the window was a jessamine; the scent -it exhaled at night was too strong. Barbara shut the window to exclude -the fragrance. It made her head ache. A light air played with the -jessamine, and brushed some of the white flowers against the glass. -Barbara was usually sharp with the servants when they returned from -their revivals, and love-feasts, and missionary meetings, late; but -this evening she felt no impatience. She had plenty to occupy her mind, -and the time passed quickly with her. All at once she heard a loud -prolonged hoot of an owl, so near and so loud that she felt sure the -bird must be in the house. Next moment she heard her father’s voice -calling repeatedly and excitedly. She ran to him and found him alarmed -and agitated. His window had been left open, as the evening was warm. - -‘I heard an owl!’ he said. ‘It was at my ear; it called, and roused -me from my sleep. It was not an owl—I do not know what it was. I saw -something, I am not sure what.’ - -‘Papa dear, I heard the bird. You know there are several about. They -have their nests in the barn and old empty pigeon-house. One came by -the window hooting. I heard it also.’ - -‘I saw something,’ he said. - -She took his hand. It was cold and trembling. - -‘You were dreaming, papa. The owl roused you, and dreams mixed with -your waking impressions, so that you cannot distinguish one from -another.’ - -‘I do not know,’ he said, vacantly, and put his hand to his head. ‘I do -see and hear strange things. Do not leave me alone, Barbara. Kindle a -light, and read me one of Challoner’s Meditations. It may compose me.’ - -Eve was upstairs, amusing herself with unfolding and trying on the -yellow and crimson dress she had found in the garret. She knew that -Barbara would not come upstairs yet. She would have been afraid to -masquerade before her. She put her looking-glass on a chair, so that -she might see herself better in it. Then she took the timbrel, and -poised herself on one foot, and held the instrument over her head, and -lightly tingled the little bells. She had put on the blue turquoise -ring. She looked at it, kissed it, waved that hand, and rattled the -tambourine, but not so loud that Barbara might hear. Eve was quite -happy thus amusing herself. Her only disappointment was that she had -not more such dresses to try on. - -All at once she started, stood still, turned and uttered a cry of -terror. She had been posturing hitherto with her back to the window. A -noise at it made her look round. She saw, seated in it, with his short -legs inside, and his hands grasping the stone mullions—a small dark -figure. - -‘Well done, Eve! Well done, Zerlina! - - Là ci darem la mano, - Là mi dirai di si!’ - -Then the boy laughed maliciously; he enjoyed her confusion and alarm. - -‘The weak-eyed Leah is away, quieting Laban,’ he said; ‘Leah shall have -her Jacob, but Rachel shall get Esau, the gay, the handsome, whose hand -is against every man, or rather one against whom every man’s hand is -raised. I am going to jump into your room.’ - -‘Keep away!’ cried Eve in the greatest alarm. - -‘If you cry out, if you rouse Leah and bring her here, I will make such -a hooting and howling as will kill the old man downstairs with fear.’ - -‘In pity go. What do you want?’ asked Eve, backing from the window to -the farthest wall. - -‘Take care! Do not run out of the room. If you attempt it, I will jump -in, and make my fiddle squeal, and caper about, till even the sober -Barbara—Leah I mean—will believe that devils have taken possession, -and as for the old man, he will give up his ghost to them without a -protest.’ - -‘I entreat you—I implore you—go!’ pleaded Eve, with tears of alarm in -her eyes, cowering back against the wall, too frightened even to think -of the costume she wore. - -‘Ah!’ jeered the impish boy. ‘Run along down into the room where your -sister is reading and praying with the old man, and what will they -suppose but that a crazy opera-dancer has broken loose from her caravan -and is rambling over the country.’ - -He chuckled, he enjoyed her terror. - -‘Do you know how I have managed to get this little talk with you -uninterrupted? I hooted in at the window of your father, and when he -woke made faces at him. Then he screamed for help, and Barbara went to -him. Now here am I; I scrambled up the old pear-tree trained against -the wall. What is it, a Chaumontel or a Jargonelle? It can’t be a Bon -Chrétien, or it would not have borne me.’ - -Eve’s face was white, her eyes were wide with terror, her hands behind -her scrabbled at the wall, and tore the paper. ‘Oh, what do you want? -Pray, pray go!’ - -‘I will come in at the window, I will caper and whistle, and scream and -fiddle. I will jump on the bed and kick all the clothes this way, that -way. I will throw your Sunday frock out of the window; I will smash -the basin and water-bottle, and glass and jug. I will throw the mirror -against the wall; I will tear down the blinds and curtains, and drive -the curtain-pole through the windows; I will throw your candle into -the heap of clothes and linen and curtain, and make a blaze which will -burn the room and set the house flaming, unless you make me a solemn -promise. I have a message for you from poor Martin. Poor Martin! his -heart is breaking. He can think only of lovely Eve. As soon as the sun -sets be on the Raven Rock to-morrow.’ - -‘I cannot. Do leave the window.’ - -‘Very well,’ said the boy, ‘in ten minutes the house will be on fire. -I am coming in; you run away. I shall lock you out, and before you have -got help together the room will be in a blaze.’ - -‘What do you want? I will promise anything to be rid of you.’ - -‘Promise to be on the Raven Rock to-morrow evening.’ - -‘Why must I be there?’ - -‘Because I have a message to give you there.’ - -‘Give it me now.’ - -‘I cannot; it is too long. That sister of yours will come tumbling in -on us with a Roley-poley, gammon and spinach, Heigh-ho! says Anthony -Roley, oh!’ - -‘Yes, yes! I will promise.’ - -Instantly he slipped his leg out, she saw only the hands on the bottom -of the window. Then up came the boy’s queer face again, that he might -make grimaces at her and shake his fist, and point to candle, and bed, -and garments, and curtains: and then, in a moment, he was gone. - -Some minutes elapsed before Eve recovered courage to leave her place, -shut her window, and take off the tawdry dress in which she had -disguised herself. - -She heard the voices of the servant maids returning along the lane. -Soon after Barbara came upstairs. She found her sister sitting on the -bed. - -‘What is it, Eve? You look white and frightened.’ - -Eve did not answer. - -‘What is the matter, dear? Have you been alarmed at anything?’ - -‘Yes, Bab,’ in a faint voice. - -‘Did you see anything from your window?’ - -‘I think so.’ - -‘I cannot understand,’ said Barbara. ‘I also fancied I saw a dark -figure dart across the garden and leap the wall whilst I was reading to -papa. I can’t say, because there was a candle in our room.’ - -‘Don’t you think,’ said Eve, in a faltering voice, ‘it may have been -Joseph Woodman parting with Jane?’ Eve’s cheeks coloured as she said -this; she was false with her sister. - -Barbara shook her head, and went into her own room. ‘He has gone,’ -she thought, ‘because the house is watched, his whereabouts has -been discovered. I am glad he is gone. It is best for himself, for -Eve’—after a pause—’and for me.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -POOR MARTIN. - - -EVE was uneasy all next day—at intervals—she could do nothing -continuously—because of her promise. The recollection that she had -bound herself to meet Watt on the Raven Rock at sundown came on her -repeatedly during the day, spoiling her happiness. She would not have -scrupled to fail to keep her promise, but that the horrible boy would -be sure to force himself upon her, and in revenge do some dreadful -mischief. She was so much afraid of him, that she felt that to keep her -appointment was the lesser evil. - -As the sun declined her heart failed her, and just before the orb set -in bronze and gold, she asked Jane, the housemaid, to accompany her -through the fields to the Raven Rock. - -Timid Eve dare not trust herself alone on the dangerous platform with -that imp. He was capable of any devilry. He might scare her out of her -wits. - -Jane was a good-natured girl, and she readily obliged her young -mistress. Jane Welsh’s mother, who was a widow, lived not far from -Morwell, in a cottage on the banks of the Tamar, higher up, where a -slip of level meadow ran out from the cliffs, and the river made a loop -round it. - -As Eve walked through the fields towards the wood, and neared the trees -and rocks, she began to think that she had made a mistake. It would not -do for Jane to see Watt. She would talk about him, and Barbara would -hear, and question her. If Barbara asked her why she had gone out at -dusk to meet the boy, what answer could she make? - -When Eve came to the gate into the wood, she stood still, and holding -the gate half open, told Jane she might stay there, for she would go on -by herself. - -Jane was surprised. - -‘Please, Miss, I’ve nothing to take me back to the house.’ Eve hastily -protested that she did not want her to return: she was to remain at -the gate—’And if I call—come on to me, Jane, not otherwise. I have a -headache, and I want to be alone.’ - -‘Very well, Miss.’ - -But Jane was puzzled, and said to herself, ‘There’s a lover, sure as -eggs in April.’ - -Then Eve closed the gate between herself and Jane, and went on. Before -disappearing into the shade of the trees, she looked back, and saw the -maid where she had left her, plaiting grass. - -A lover! A lover is the philosopher’s stone that turns the sordid alloy -of life into gold. The idea of a lover was the most natural solution of -the caprice in Miss Eve’s conduct. As every road loads to Rome, so in -the servant-maid mind does every line of life lead to a sweetheart. - -Jane, having settled that her young mistress had gone on to meet a -lover, next questioned who that lover could be, and here she was -utterly puzzled. Sure enough Miss Eve had been to a dance at the -Cloberrys’, but whom she had met there, and to whom lost her heart, -that Jane did not know, and that also Jane was resolved to ascertain. - -She noiselessly unhasped the gate, and stole along the path. The -burnished brazen sky of evening shone between the tree trunks, but the -foliage had lost its verdure in the gathering dusk. The honeysuckles -poured forth their scent in waves. The air near the hedge and deep into -the wood was honeyed with it. White and yellow speckled currant moths -were flitting about the hedge. Jane stole along, stealthily, from tree -to tree, fearful lest Eve should turn and catch her spying. A large -Scotch pine cast a shadow under it like ink. On reaching that, Jane -knew she could see the top of the Raven Rock. - -As she thus advanced on tiptoe she heard a rustling, as of a bird in -the tree overhead. Her heart stood still. Then, before she had time -to recover herself, with a shrill laugh, a little black figure came -tumbling down before her out of the tree, capered, leaped at her, threw -his arms round her neck, and screamed into her face, ‘Carry me! Carry -me! Carry me!’ - -Then his arms relaxed, he dropped off, shrieking with laughter, and -Jane fled, as fast as her limbs could bear her, back to the gate, -through the gate and away over the meadows to Morwell House. - -Eve had gone on to the platform of rock; she stood there irresolute, -hoping that the detested boy would not appear, when she heard his laugh -and shout, and the scream of Jane. She would have fainted with terror, -had not at that moment a tall man stepped up to her and laid his hand -on her arm. ‘Do not be afraid, sweet fairy Eve! It is I—your poor slave -Martin,—perfectly bewitched, drawn back by those loadstone eyes. Do -not be frightened, Watt is merely giving a scare to the inquisitive -servant.’ - -Eve was trembling violently. This was worse than meeting the ape of -a boy. She had committed a gross indiscretion. What would Barbara -say?—her father, if he heard of it, how vexed he would be! - -‘I must go back,’ she said, with a feeble effort at dignity. ‘This is -too bad; I have been deceived.’ Then she gave way to weakness, and -burst into tears. - -‘No,’ he said carelessly, ‘you shall not go. I will not suffer you -to escape now that I have a chance of seeing you and speaking with -you. To begin at the beginning—I love you. There! you are all of a -tremble. Sit down and listen to what I have to say. You will not? Well, -consider. I run terrible risks by being here; I may say that I place my -life in your delicate hands.’ - -She looked up at him, still too frightened to speak, even to comprehend -his words. - -‘I do not know you!’ she whispered, when she was able to gather -together the poor remnants of her strength. - -‘You remember me. I have your ring, and you have mine. We are, in a -manner, bound to each other. Be patient, dear love; listen to me. I -will tell you all my story.’ - -He saw that she was in no condition to be pressed. If he spoke of love -she would make a desperate effort to escape. Weak and giddy though she -was, she would not endure that from a man of whom she knew nothing. He -saw that. He knew he must give her time to recover from her alarm, so -he said, ‘I wish, most beautiful fairy, you would rest a few minutes -on this piece of rock. I am a poor, hunted, suffering, misinterpreted -wretch, and I come to tell you my story, only to entreat your sympathy -and your prayers. I will not say a rude word, I will not lay a finger -on you. All I ask is: listen to me. That cannot hurt you. I am a -beggar, a beggar whining at your feet, not asking for more alms than a -tear of pity. Give me that, that only, and I go away relieved.’ - -She seemed somewhat reassured, and drew a long breath. - -‘I had a sister of your name.’ - -She raised her head, and looked at him with surprise. - -‘It is an uncommon name. My poor sister is gone. I suppose it is your -name that has attracted me to you, that induces me to open my heart to -you. I mean to confide to you my troubles. You say that you do not know -me. I will tell you all my story, and then, sweet Eve, you will indeed -know me, and, knowing me, will shower tears of precious pity, that -will infinitely console me.’ - -She was still trembling, but flattered, and relieved that he asked for -nothing save sympathy. That of course she was at liberty to bestow on -a deserving object. She was wholly inexperienced, easily deceived by -flattery. - -‘Have I frightened you?’ asked Martin. ‘Am I so dreadful, so unsightly -an object as to inspire you with aversion and terror?’ He drew himself -up and paused. Eve hastily looked at him. He was a strikingly handsome -man, with dark hair, wonderful dark eyes, and finely chiselled features. - -‘I said that I put my life in your hands. I spoke the truth. You have -but to betray me, and the police and the parish constables will come in -a _posse_ after me. I will stand here with folded arms to receive them; -but mark my words, as soon as they set foot on this rock, I will fling -myself over the edge and perish. If _you_ sacrifice me, my life is not -worth saving.’ - -‘I will not betray you,’ faltered Eve. - -‘I know it. You are too noble, too true, too heroic to be a traitress. -I knew it when I came here and placed myself at your mercy.’ - -‘But,’ said Eve timidly, ‘what have you done? You have taken my ring. -Give it back to me, and I will not send the constables after you.’ - -‘You have mine.’ - -‘I will return it.’ - -‘About that hereafter,’ said Martin grandly, and he waved his hand. -‘Now I answer your question, What have I done? I will tell you -everything. It is a long story and a sad one. Certain persons come -out badly in it whom I would spare. But it may not be otherwise. -Self-defence is the first law of nature. You have, no doubt, heard a -good deal about me, and not to my advantage. I have been prejudiced in -your eyes by Jasper. He is narrow, does not make allowances, has never -recovered the straitlacing father gave him as a child. His conscience -has not expanded since infancy.’ - -Eve looked at Martin with astonishment. - -‘Mr. Jasper Babb has not said anything—’ - -‘Oh, there!’ interrupted Martin, ‘you may spare your sweet lips the -fib. I know better than that. He grumbles and mumbles about me to -everyone who will open an ear to his tales. If he were not my brother——’ - -Now Eve interrupted him. ‘Mr. Jasper your brother!’ - -‘Of course he is. Did he not tell you so?’ He saw that she had not -known by the expression of her face, so, with a laugh, he said, ‘Oh -dear, no! Of course Jasper was too grand and sanctimonious a man to -confess to the blot in the family. I am that blot—look at me!’ - -He showed his handsome figure and face by a theatrical gesture and -position. ‘Poor Martin is the blot, to which Jasper will not confess, -and yet—Martin survives this neglect and disrespect.’ - -The overweening vanity, the mock humility, the assurance of the man -passed unnoticed by Eve. She breathed freely when she heard that he was -the brother of Jasper. There could have been no harm in an interview -with Jasper, and consequently very little in one with his brother. So -she argued, and so she reconciled herself to the situation. Now she -traced a resemblance between the brothers which had escaped her before; -they had the same large dark expressive eyes, but Jasper’s face was not -so regular, his features not so purely chiselled as those of Martin. He -was broader built; Martin had the perfect modelling of a Greek statue. -There was also a more manly, self-confident bearing in Martin than in -the elder brother, who always appeared bowed as with some burden that -oppressed his spirits, and took from him self-assertion and buoyancy, -that even maimed his vigour of manhood. - -‘I dare say you have had a garbled version of my story, continued -Martin, seating himself; and Eve, without considering, seated herself -also. Martin let himself down gracefully, and assumed a position where -the evening light, still lingering in the sky, could irradiate his -handsome face. ‘That is why I have sought this interview. I desired -to put myself right with you. No doubt you have heard that I got into -trouble.’ - -She shook her head. - -‘Well, I did. I was unlucky. In fact, I could stay with my father no -longer. I had already left him for a twelvemonth, but I came back, and, -in Scriptural terms, such as he could understand, asked him to give me -the portion of goods that fell to me. He refused, so I took it.’ - -‘Took—took what?’ - -‘My portion of goods, not in stock but in money. For my part,’ said -Martin, folding his arms, ‘it has ever struck me that the Prodigal Son -was far the nobler of the brothers. The eldest was a mean fellow, the -second had his faults—I admit it—but he was a man of independence of -action; he would not stand being bullyragged by his father, so he went -away. I got into difficulties over that matter. My father would not -overlook it, made a fuss, and so on. My doctrine is: Let bygones be -bygones, and accept what comes and don’t kick. That my father could not -see, and so I got locked up.’ - -‘Locked up—where?’ - -‘In a pill-box. I managed, however, to escape; I am at large, and at -your feet—entreating you to pity me.’ - -He suited the action to the word. In a moment he was gracefully -kneeling before her on one knee, with his hand on his heart. - -‘Oh, Miss Eve,’ he said, ‘since I saw your face in the moonlight I have -never forgotten it. Wherever I went it haunted me. I saw these great -beautiful eyes looking timidly into mine; by day they eclipsed the sun. -Whatever I did I thought only of you. And now—what is it that I ask of -you? Nothing but forgiveness. The money—the portion of goods that fell -to me—was yours. My father owed it to you. It was intended for you. But -now, hear me, you noble, generous-spirited girl; I have borrowed the -money, it shall be returned—or its equivalent. If you desire it, I will -swear.’ He stood up and assumed an attitude. - -‘Oh, no!’ said Eve; ‘you had my money?’ - -‘As surely as I had your ring.’ - -‘Much in the same way,’ she said, with a little sharpness. - -‘But I shall return one with the other. Trust me. Stand up; look me in -the face. Do I bear tho appearance of a cheat, a thief, a robber? Am I -base, villanous! No, I am nothing but a poor, foolish, prodigal lad, -who has got into a scrape, but will get out of it again. You forgive -me. Hark! I hear someone calling.’ - -‘It is Barbara. She is looking for me.’ - -‘Then I disappear.’ He put his hand to his lips, wafted her a kiss, -whispered ‘When you look at the ring, remember poor—poor Martin,’ and -he slipped away among the bushes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -FATHER AND SON. - - -BARBARA was mistaken. Jasper had gone to Buckfastleigh, gone openly to -his father’s house, in the belief that his father was dying. He knocked -at the blotched and scaled door under the dilapidated portico, but -received no answer. He tried the door. It was locked and barred. Then -he went round to the back, noting how untidy the garden was, how out of -repair was the house; and in the yard of the kitchen he found the deaf -housekeeper. His first question, shouted into her ear, naturally was an -inquiry after his father. He learned to his surprise that the old man -was not ill, but was then in the factory. Thinking that his question -had been misunderstood, he entered the house, went into his father’s -study, then up to his bedroom, and through the dirty window-panes saw -the old man leaving the mill on his way back to the house. - -What, then, had Watt meant by sending him to the old home on false -tidings? The boy was indeed mischievous, but this was more than common -mischief. He must have sent him on a fool’s errand for some purpose of -his own. That the boy wanted to hear news of his father was possible, -but not probable. The only other alternative Jasper could suggest to -explain Watt’s conduct was the disquieting one that he wanted to be rid -of Jasper from Morwell for some purpose of his own. What could that -purpose be? - -Jasper’s blood coursed hot through his veins. He was angry. He was a -forbearing man, ready always to find an excuse for a transgressor, but -this was a transgression too malicious to be easily forgiven. Jasper -determined, now that he was at home, to see his father, and then to -return to the Jordans as quickly as he could. He had ridden his own -horse, that horse must have a night’s rest, but to-morrow he would -return. - -He was thus musing when Mr. Babb came in. - -‘You here!’ said the old man. ‘What has brought you to Buckfastleigh -again? Want money, of course.’ Then snappishly, ‘You shan’t get it.’ - -‘I am come,’ said his son, ‘because I had received information that you -were ill. Have you been unwell, father?’ - -‘I—no! I’m never ill. No such luck for you. If I were ill and helpless, -you might take the management, you think. If I were dead, that would be -nuts to you.’ - -‘My father, you wrong me. I left you because I would no longer live -this wretched life, and because I hate your unforgiving temper.’ - -‘Unforgiving!’ sneered the old manufacturer. ‘Martin was a thief, and -he deserved his fate. Is not Brutus applauded because he condemned -his own son? Is not David held to be weak because he bade Joab spare -Absalom?’ - -‘We will not squeeze old crushed apples. No juice will run from them,’ -replied Jasper. ‘The thing was done, and might have been forgiven. I -would not have returned now had I not been told that you were dying.’ - -‘Who told you that lie?’ - -‘Walter.’ - -‘He! He was ever a liar, a mocker, a blasphemer! How was he to know? I -thank heaven he has not shown his jackanapes visage here since he left. -I dying! I never was sounder. I am better in health and spirits since I -am quit of my sons. They vexed my righteous soul every day with their -ungodly deeds. So you supposed I was dying, and came here to see what -meat could be picked off your father’s bones?’ - -Jasper remembered Watt’s sneer. It was clear whence the boy had -gathered his mean views of men’s motives. - -‘I’ll trouble you to return whence you came,’ said Ezekiel Babb. ‘No -blessing has rested on me since I brought the strange blood into the -house. Now that all of you are gone—you, Eve number one, and Eve number -two, Martin and Walter—I am well. The Son of Peace has returned to -this house; I can read my Bible and do my accounts in quiet, without -fears of what new bit of mischief or devilry my children have been up -to, without any more squeaking of fiddles and singing of profane songs -all over the house. Come now!’—the old man raised his bushy brows and -flashed a cunning, menacing glance at his son—’come now! if you had -found me dead—in Abraham’s bosom—what would you have done? I know what -Walter would have done: he would have capered up and down all over the -house, fiddling like a devil, like a devil as he is.’ He looked at -Jasper again, inquisitively. ‘Well, what would you have done?—fiddled -too?’ - -‘My father, as you desire to know, I will tell you. I would at once -have realised what I could, and have cleared off the debt to Mr. -Jordan.’ - -‘Well, you may do that when the day comes,’ said the old manufacturer, -shrugging his shoulders. ‘It is nothing to me what you do with the -mill and the house and the land after I am’—he turned up his eyes to -the dirty ceiling—’where the wicked cease from fiddling and no thieves -break in and steal. I am not going to pay the money twice over. My -obligation ended when the money went out of this house. I did more than -I was required. I chastised my own son for taking it. What was seven -years on Dartmoor? A flea-bite. Under the old law the rebellious son -was stoned till he died. I suppose, now, you are hungry. Call the old -crab; kick her, pinch her, till she understands, and let her give you -something to eat. There are some scraps, I know, of veal-pie and cold -potatoes. I think, by the way, the veal-pie is done. Don’t forget to -ask a blessing before you fall-to on the cold potatoes.’ Then he rubbed -his forehead and said, ‘Stay, I’ll go and rouse the old toad myself; -you stay here. You are the best of my children. All the rest were a bad -lot—too much of the strange blood in them.’ - -Whilst Mr. Babb is rousing his old housekeeper to produce some food, we -will say a few words of the past history of the Babb family. - -Eve the first, Mr. Babb’s wife, had led a miserable life. She did not -run away from him: she remained and poured forth the fiery love of her -heart upon her children, especially on her eldest, a daughter, Eve, -to whom she talked of her old life—its freedom, its happiness, its -attractions. She died of a broken spirit on the birth of her third son, -Walter. Then Eve, the eldest, a beautiful girl, unable to endure the -bad temper of her father, the depressing atmosphere of the house, and -the cares of housekeeping imposed on her, ran away after a travelling -band of actors. - -Jasper, the eldest son, grew up to be grave and resigned. He was of -use in the house, managing it as far as he was allowed, and helping -his father in many ways. But the old man, who had grumbled at and -insulted his wife whilst she was alive, could not keep his tongue from -the subject that still rankled in his heart. This occasioned quarrels; -the boy took his mother’s side, and refused to bear his father’s -gibes at her memory. He was passionately attached to his next brother -Martin. The mother had brought a warm, loving spirit into the family, -and Jasper had inherited much of it. He stood as a screen between -his brother and father, warding off from the former many a blow and -angry reprimand. He did Martin’s school tasks for him; he excused his -faults; he admired him for his beauty, his spirit, his bearing, his -lively talk. There was no lad, in his opinion, who could equal Martin; -Watt was right when he said that Jasper had contributed to his ruin by -humouring him, but Jasper humoured him because he loved him, and pitied -him for the uncongeniality of his home. Martin displayed a talent for -music, and there was an old musician at Ashburton, the organist of the -parish church, who developed and cultivated his talent, and taught him -both to play and sing. Jasper had also an instinctive love of music, -and he also learned the violin and surpassed his brother, who had not -the patience to master the first difficulties, and who preferred to -sing. - -The father, perhaps, saw in Martin a recrudescence of the old -proclivities of his mother; he tried hard to interfere with his visits -to the musician, and only made Martin more set on his studies with him. -But the most implacable, incessant state of war was that which raged -between the old father and his youngest son, Walter, or Watt as his -brothers called him. This boy had no reverence in him. He scouted the -authority of his father and of Jasper. He scoffed at everything the -old man held sacred. He absolutely refused to go to the Baptist Chapel -frequented by his father, he stopped his ears and made grimaces at his -brothers and the servants during family worship, and the devotions were -not unfrequently concluded with a rush of the old man at his youngest -son and the administration of resounding clouts on the ears. - -At last a quarrel broke out between them of so fierce a nature that -Watt was expelled the house. Then Martin left to follow Watt, who had -joined a travelling dramatic company. After a year, however, Martin -returned, very thin and woe-begone, and tried to accommodate himself to -home-life once more. But it was not possible; he had tasted of the sort -of life that suited him—one rambling, desultory, artistic. He robbed -his father’s bureau and ran away. - -Then it was that he was taken, and in the same week sent to the -assizes, and condemned to seven years’ penal labour in the convict -establishment at Prince’s Town. Thence he had escaped, assisted by -Jasper and Watt, whilst the former was on his way to Morwell with the -remnant of the money recovered from Martin. - -The rest is known to the reader. - -Whilst Jasper ate the mean meal provided for him, his father watched -him. - -‘So,’ said the old man, and the twinkle was in his cunning eyes, ‘so -you have hired yourself to Mr. Ignatius Jordan at Morwell as his -steward?’ - -‘Yes, father. I remain there as pledge to him that he shall be repaid, -and I am doing there all I can to put the estate into good order. It -has been shockingly neglected.’ - -‘Who for?’ asked Mr. Babb. - -‘I do not understand.’ - -‘For whom are you thus working?’ - -‘For Mr. Jordan, as you said!’ - -The manufacturer chuckled. - -‘Jasper,’ said he, ‘some men look on a pool and see nothing but water. -I put my head in, open my eyes, and see what is at the bottom. That -girl did not come here for nothing. I put my head under water and -opened my eyes.’ - -‘Well?’ said Jasper, with an effort controlling his irritation. - -‘Well! I saw it all under the surface. I saw you. She came here because -she was curious to see the factory and the house, and to know if all -was as good as you had bragged about. I gave her a curt dismissal; I do -not want a daughter-in-law thrusting her feet into my shoes till I cast -them off for ever.’ - -Jasper started to his feet and upset his chair. He was very angry. -‘You utterly wrong her,’ he said. ‘You open your eyes in mud, and see -only dirt. Miss Jordan came here out of kindness towards me, whom she -dislikes and despises in her heart.’ - -Mr. Babb chuckled. - -‘Well, I won’t say that you have not acted wisely. Morwell will go to -that girl, and it is a pretty property.’ - -‘I beg your pardon, you are wrong. It is left to the second—Eve.’ - -‘So, so! It goes to Eve! That is why the elder girl came here, to see -if she could fit herself into Owlacombe.’ - -Jasper’s face burnt, and the muscles of his head and neck quivered, but -he said nothing. He dared not trust himself to speak. He had all his -life practised self-control, but he never needed it more than at this -moment. - -‘I see it all,’ pursued the old man, his crafty face contracting with a -grin; ‘Mr. Jordan thought to provide for both his daughters. Buckfast -mill and Owlacombe for the elder, Morwell for the younger—ha, ha! The -elder to take you so as to get this pretty place. And she came to look -at it and see if it suited her. Well! It is a pretty place—only,’ he -giggled, ‘it ain’t vacant and to be had just yet.’ - -Jasper took his hat; his face was red as blood, and his dark eyes -flashed. - -‘Don’t go,’ said the old manufacturer; ‘you did not see their little -trap and walked into it, eh? One word of warning I must give you. -Don’t run after the younger; Eve is your niece.’ - -‘Father!’ - -‘Ah! that surprises you, does it? It is true. Eve’s mother was your -sister. Did Mr. Jordan never tell you that?’ - -‘Never!’ - -‘It is true. Sit down again to the cold potatoes. You shall know all, -but first ask a blessing.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -HUSH-MONEY. - - -‘YES,’ said Mr. Babb, settling himself on a chair; then finding he had -sat on the tails of his coat, he rose, held a tail in each hand, and -reseated himself between them; ‘yes.’ - -‘Do you mean seriously to tell me that Mr. Jordan’s second wife was my -sister?’ - -‘Well—in a way. That is, I don’t mean your sister in a way, but his -wife in a way.’ - -‘I have heard nothing of this; what do you mean?’ - -‘I mean that he did not marry her.’ - -Jasper Babb’s face darkened. ‘I have been in his house and spoken to -him, and not known that. What became of my sister?’ - -The old man fidgeted on his chair. It was not comfortable. ‘I’m sure I -don’t know,’ he said. - -‘Did she die?’ - -‘No,’ said Mr. Babb, ‘she ran off with a play-actor.’ - -‘Well—and after that?’ - -‘After what? After the play-actor? I do not know, I have not heard of -her since. I don’t want to. Was not that enough?’ - -‘And Mr. Jordan—does he know nothing?’ - -‘I cannot tell. If you are curious to know you can ask.’ - -‘This is very extraordinary. Why did not Mr. Jordan tell me the -relationship? He knew who I was.’ - -The old man laughed, and Jasper shuddered at his laugh, there was -something so base and brutal in it. - -‘He was not so proud of how he behaved to Eve as to care to boast of -the connection. You might not have liked it, might have fizzed and gone -pop.’ - -Jasper’s brow was on fire, his eyebrows met, and a sombre sparkle was -in his eye. - -‘You have made no effort to trace her?’ - -Mr. Babb shrugged his shoulders. - -‘Tell me,’ said Jasper, leaning his elbow on the table, and putting -his hand over his eyes to screen them from the light, and allow him to -watch his father’s face—’tell me everything, as you undertook. Tell me -how my poor sister came to Morwell, and how she left it.’ - -‘There is not much to tell,’ answered the father; ‘you know that she -ran away from home after her mother’s death; you were then nine or ten -years old. She hated work, and lusted after the pomps and vanities of -this wicked world. After a while I heard where she was, that she was -ill, and had been taken into Morwell House to be nursed, and that there -she remained after her recovery.’ - -‘Strange,’ mused Jasper; ‘she fell ill and was taken to Morwell, and -I—it was the same. Things repeat themselves; the world moves in a -circle.’ - -‘Everything repeats itself. As in Eve’s case the sickness led up to -marriage, or something like it, so will it be in your case. This is -what Mr. Jordan and Eve did: they went into the little old chapel, -and took each other’s hands before the altar, and swore fidelity to -each other; that was all. Mr. Jordan is a Catholic, and would not have -the knot tied by a church parson, and Eve would not confess to her -name, she had that sense of decency left in her. They satisfied their -consciences but it was no legal marriage. I believe he would have done -what was right, but she was perverse, and refused to give her name, and -say both who she was and whence she came.’ - -‘Go on,’ said Jasper. - -‘Well, then, about a year after this I heard where she was, and I -went after her to Morwell, but I did not go openly—I had no wish to -encounter Mr. Jordan. I tried to persuade Eve to return with me to -Buckfastleigh. Who can lay to my charge that I am not a forgiving -father? Have I not given you cold potato, and would have furnished you -with veal pie if the old woman had not finished the scraps? I saw Eve, -and I told her my mind pretty freely, both about her running away and -about her connection with Jordan. I will say this for her—she professed -to be sorry for what she had done, and desired my forgiveness. That, -I said, I would give her on one condition only, that she forsook her -husband and child, and came back to keep house for me. I could not -bring her to a decision, so I appointed her a day, and said I would -take her final answer on that. But I was hindered going; I forget just -now what it was, but I couldn’t go that day.’ - -‘Well, father, what happened?’ - -‘As I could not keep my appointment—I remember now how it was, I was -laid up with a grip of lumbago at Tavistock—I sent one of the actors -there, from whom I had heard about her, with a message. I had the -lumbago in my back that badly that I was bent double. When I was able -to go, on the morrow, it was too late; she was gone.’ - -‘Gone! Whither?’ - -‘Gone off with the play-actor,’ answered Mr. Babb, grimly. ‘It runs in -the blood.’ - -‘You are sure of this?’ - -‘Mr. Jordan told me so.’ - -‘Did you not pursue her?’ - -‘To what end? I had done my duty. I had tried my utmost to recover my -daughter, and when for the second time she played me false, I wiped -off the dust of my feet as a testimony against her.’ - -‘She left her child?’ - -‘Yes, she deserted her child as well as her husband—that is to say, Mr. -Ignatius Jordan. She deserted the house that had sheltered her, to run -after a homeless, bespangled, bepainted play-actor. I know all about -it. The life at Morwell was too dull for her, it was duller there than -at Buckfastleigh. Here she could see something of the world; she could -watch the factory hands coming to their work and leaving it; but there -she was as much out of the world as if she were in Lundy Isle. She had -a hankering after the glitter and paint of this empty world.’ - -‘I cannot believe this. I cannot believe that she would desert the man -who befriended her, and forsake her child.’ - -‘You say that because you did not know her. You know Martin; would -he not do it? You know Watt; has he any scruples and strong domestic -affections? She was like them; had in her veins the same boiling, -giddy, wanton blood.’ - -Jasper knew but too well that Martin and Watt were unscrupulous, and -followed pleasure regardless of the calls of duty. He had been too -young when his sister left home to know anything of her character. It -was possible that she had the same light and careless temperament as -Martin. - -‘A horse that shies once will shy again,’ said the old man. ‘Eve ran -away from home once, and she ran away from the second home. If she did -not run away from home a third time it probably was that she had none -to desert.’ - -‘And Mr. Jordan knows nothing of her?’ - -‘He lives too far from the stream of life to see the broken dead things -that drift down it.’ - -Jasper considered. The flush of anger had faded from his brow; an -expression of great sadness had succeeded. His hand was over his brow, -but he was no longer intent on his father’s face; his eyes rested on -the table. - -‘I must find out something about my sister. It is too horrible to think -of our sister, our only sister, as a lost, sunk, degraded thing.’ - -He thought of Mr. Jordan, of his strange manner, his abstracted look, -his capricious temper. He did not believe that the master of Morwell -was in his sound senses. He seemed to be a man whose mind had preyed -on some great sorrow till all nerve had gone out of it. What was that -sorrow? Once Barbara had said to him, in excuse for some violence and -rudeness in her father’s conduct, that he had never got over the loss -of Eve’s mother. - -‘Mr. Jordan was not easy about his treatment of my daughter,’ said old -Babb. ‘From what little I saw of him seventeen years ago I take him to -be a weak-spirited man. He was in a sad take-on then at the loss of -Eve, and having a baby thrown on his hands unweaned. He offered me the -money I wanted to buy those fields for stretching the cloth. You may be -sure when a man presses money on you, and is indifferent to interest, -that he wants you to forgive him something. He desired me to look over -his conduct to my daughter, and drop all inquiries. I dare say they had -had words, and then she was ready in her passion to run away with the -first vagabond who offered.’ - -Then Jasper removed his hand from his face, and laid one on the other -upon the table. His face was now pale, and the muscles set. His eyes -looked steadily and sternly at the mean old man, who averted his eyes -from those of his son. - -‘What is this? You took a bribe, father, to let the affair remain -unsifted! For the sake of a few acres of meadow you sacrificed your -child!’ - -‘Fiddlesticks-ends,’ said the manufacturer. ‘I sacrificed nothing. What -could I do? If I ran after Eve and found her in some harlequin and -columbine booth, could I force her to return? She had made her bed, -and must lie on it. What could I gain by stirring in the matter? Let -sleeping dogs lie.’ - -‘Father,’ said Jasper, very gravely, ‘the fact remains that you took -money that looks to me very much like a bribe to shut your eyes.’ - -‘Pshaw! pshaw! I had made up my mind. I was full of anger against Eve. -I would not have taken her into my house had I met her. Fine scandals -I should have had with her there! Better let her run and disappear in -the mud, than come muddy into my parlour and besmirch all the furniture -and me with it, and perhaps damage the business. These children of -mine have eaten sour grapes, and the parent’s teeth are set on edge. -It all comes’—the old man brought his fist down on the table—’of my -accursed folly in bringing strange blood into the house, and now the -chastisement is on me. Are you come back to live with me, Jasper? Will -you help me again in the mill?’ - -‘Never again, father, never,’ answered the young man, standing up. -‘Never, after what I have just heard. I shall do what I can to find my -poor sister, Eve Jordan’s mother. It is a duty—a duty your neglect has -left to me; a duty hard to take up after it has been laid aside for -seventeen years; a duty betrayed for a sum of money.’ - -‘Pshaw!’ The old man put his hands in his pockets, and walked about the -room. He was shrunk with age; his eagle profile was without beauty or -dignity. - -Jasper followed him with his eye, reproachfully, sorrowfully. - -‘Father,’ he said, ‘it seems to me as if that money was hush-money, and -that you, by taking it, had brought the blood of your child on your own -head.’ - -‘Blood! Fiddlesticks! Blood! There is no blood in the case. If she -chose to run, how was I to stop her? Blood, indeed! Red raddle!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -BETRAYAL. - - -BARBARA came out on the platform of rock. Eve stood before her -trembling, with downcast eyes, conscious of having done wrong, and of -being put in a position from which it was difficult to escape. - -Barbara had walked fast. She was hot and excited, and her temper was -roused. She loved Eve dearly, but Eve tried her. - -‘Eve,’ she said sharply, ‘what is the meaning of this? Who has been -here with you?’ - -The young girl hung her head. - -‘What is the meaning of this?’ she repeated, and her tone of voice -showed her irritation. Barbara had a temper. - -Eve murmured an inarticulate reply. - -‘What is it? I cannot understand. Jane came tearing home with a -rhodomontade about a boy jumping down on her from a tree, and I saw -him just now at the gate making faces at me. He put his fingers into -his mouth, hooted like an owl, and dived into the bushes. What is the -meaning of this?’ - -Eve burst into tears, and hid her face on her sister’s neck. - -‘Come, come,’ said Barbara, somewhat mollified, ‘I must be told all. -Your giddiness is leading you into a hobble. Who was that on the rock -with you? I caught a glimpse of a man as I passed the Scotch fir, and I -thought the voice I heard was that of Jasper.’ - -The girl still cried, cried out of confusion, because she did not know -how to answer her sister. She must not tell the truth; the secret had -been confided to her. Poor Martin’s safety must not be jeopardised by -her. Barbara was so hot, impetuous, and frank, that she might let out -about him, and so he might be arrested. What was she to say and do? - -‘Come back with me,’ said Barbara, drawing her sister’s hand through -her arm. ‘Now, then, Eve, there must be no secrets with me. You have no -mother; I stand to you in the place of mother and sister in one. Was -that Jasper?’ - -Eve’s hand quivered on her sister’s arm; in a faint voice she answered, -‘Yes, Barbara.’ Had Miss Jordan looked round she would have seen her -sister’s face crimson with shame. But Barbara turned her eyes away to -the far-off pearly range of Cornish mountains, sighed, and said nothing. - -The two girls walked together through the wood without speaking till -they came to the gate, and there they entered the atmosphere of -honeysuckle fragrance. - -‘Perhaps that boy thought he would scare me as he scared Jane,’ said -Barbara. ‘He was mistaken. Who was he?’ - -‘Jasper’s brother,’ answered Eve in a low tone. She was full of sorrow -and humiliation at having told Barbara an untruth, her poor little soul -was tossed with conflicting emotions, and Barbara felt her emotion -through the little hand resting on her arm. Eve had joined her hands, -so that as she walked she was completely linked to her dear elder -sister. - -Presently Eve said timidly, ‘Bab, darling, it was not Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘Who was the man then?’ - -‘I cannot, I must not, tell.’ - -‘That will do,’ said Barbara decidedly; ‘say no more about it, Eve; I -know that you met Jasper Babb and no one else.’ - -‘Well,’ whispered Eve, ‘don’t be cross with me. I did not know he was -there. I had no idea.’ - -‘It _was_ Mr. Babb?’ asked Barbara, suddenly turning and looking -steadily at her. - -Here was an opportunity offered a poor, weak creature. Eve trembled, -and after a moment’s vacillation fell into the pitfall unconsciously -dug for her by her sister. ‘It was Mr. Babb, dear Barbara.’ - -Miss Jordan said no more, her bosom was heaving. Perhaps she could -not speak. She was angry, troubled, distracted; angry at the gross -imposition practised by Jasper in pretending to leave the place, whilst -lurking about it to hold secret meetings with her sister; troubled she -was because she feared that Eve had connived at his proceedings, and -had lost her heart to him—troubled also because she could not tell to -what this would lead; distracted she was, because she did not know what -steps to take. Before she reached home she had made up her mind, and on -reaching Morwell she acted on it with promptitude, leaving Eve to go to -her room or stay below as suited her best. - -She went direct to her father. He was sitting up, looking worse and -distressed; his pale forehead was beaded with perspiration; his shaking -hand clutched the table, then relaxed its hold, then clutched again. - -‘Are you feeling worse, papa?’ - -‘No,’ he answered, without looking at her, but with his dazed eyes -directed through the window. ‘No—only for black thoughts. They come -flying to me. If you stand at evening under a great rock, as soon as -the sun sets you see from all quarters the ravens flying towards it, -uttering doleful cries, and they enter into the clefts and disappear -for the night. The whole rock all night is alive with ravens. So is -it with me. As my day declines the sorrows and black thoughts come -back to lodge in me, and torment me with their clawing and pecking and -croaking. There is no driving them away. They come back.’ - -‘Dear papa,’ said Barbara, ‘I am afraid I must add to them. I have -something very unpleasant to communicate.’ - -‘I suppose,’ said Mr. Jordan peevishly, ‘you are out of coffee, or the -lemons are mouldy, or the sheets have been torn on the thorn hedge. -These matters do not trouble me.’ He signed with his finger. ‘They are -like black spots in the air, but instead of floating they fly, and they -all fly one way—towards me.’ - -‘Father, I am afraid for Eve!’ - -‘What?’ His face was full of terror. ‘What of her? What is there to -fear? Is she ill?’ - -‘It is, dearest papa, as I foresaw. She has set her heart on Mr. -Jasper, and she meets him secretly. He asked leave of you yesterday to -go home to Buckfastleigh; but he has not gone there. He has not left -this neighbourhood. He is secreting himself somewhere, and this evening -he met darling Eve on the Raven Rock, when he knew you were here ill, -and I was in the house with you.’ - -‘I cannot believe it,’ said Mr. Jordan, with every token of distress, -wiping his wet brow with his thin hands, clasping his hands, plucking -at his waistcoat, biting his quivering lips. - -‘It is true, dearest papa. Eve took Jane with her as far as the gate, -and there an ugly boy, who, Eve tells me, is Jasper’s brother, scared -the girl away. I hurried off to the Rock as soon as told of this, and I -saw through an opening of the trees someone with Eve, and heard a voice -like that of Mr. Jasper. When I charged Eve with having met him, she -could not deny it.’ - -‘What does he want? Why did he ask to leave?’ - -‘I can put but one interpretation on his conduct. I have for some time -suspected a growing attachment between him and Eve. I suppose he knows -that you never would consent——’ - -‘Never, never!’ He clenched his hands, raised them over his head, -uttered a cry, and dropped them. - -‘Do be careful, dear papa,’ said Barbara. ‘You forget your wound; you -must not raise your right arm.’ - -‘It cannot be! It cannot be! Never, never!’ He was intensely moved, -and paid no heed to his daughter’s caution. She caught his right hand, -held it between her own firmly, and kissed it. ‘My God!’ cried the -unhappy man. ‘Spare me this! It cannot be! The black spots come thick -as rain.’ He waved his left hand as though warding off something. ‘Not -as rain—as bullets.’ - -‘No, papa, as you say, it never, never can be.’ - -‘Never!’ he said eagerly, his wild eyes kindling with a lambent terror. -‘There stands between them a barrier that must cut them off the one -from the other for ever. But of that you know nothing.’ - -‘It is so,’ said Barbara; ‘there does stand an impassable barrier -between them. I know more than you suppose, dear papa. Knowing what I -do I have wondered at your permitting his presence in this house.’ - -‘You know?’ He looked at her, and pressed his brow. ‘And Eve, does she -know?’ - -‘She knows nothing,’ answered Barbara; ‘I alone—that is, you and I -together—alone know all about him. I found out when he first came here, -and was ill.’ - -‘From anything he said?’ - -‘No—I found a bundle of his clothes.’ - -‘I do not understand.’ - -‘It came about this way. There was a roll on the saddle of his horse, -and when I came to undo it, that I might put it away, I found that -it was a convict suit.’ Mr. Jordan stared. ‘Yes!’ continued Barbara, -speaking quickly, anxious to get the miserable tale told. ‘Yes, papa, I -found the garments which betrayed him. When he came to himself I showed -them to him, and asked if they were his. Afterwards I heard all the -particulars: how he had robbed his own father of the money laid by to -repay you an old loan, how his father had prosecuted him, and how he -had been sent to prison; how also he had escaped from prison. It was as -he was flying to the Tamar to cross it, and get as far as he could from -pursuit, that he met with his accident, and remained here.’ - -‘Merciful heaven!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan; ‘you knew all this, and never -told me!’ - -‘I told no one,’ answered Barbara, ‘because I promised him that I would -not betray him, and even now I would have said nothing about it but -that you tell me that you know it as well as I. No,’ she added, after -having drawn a long breath, ‘no, not even after all the provocation he -has given would I betray him.’ - -Mr. Jordan looked as one dazed. - -‘Where then are these clothes—this convict suit?’ - -‘In the garret. I hid them there.’ - -‘Let me see them. I cannot yet understand.’ - -Barbara left the room, and shortly returned with the bundle. She -unfolded it, and spread the garments before her father. He rubbed his -eyes, pressed his knuckles against his temples, and stared at them with -astonishment. - -‘So, then, it was he—Jasper Babb—who stole Eve’s money?’ - -‘Yes, papa.’ - -‘And he was taken and locked up for doing so—where?’ - -‘In Prince’s Town prison.’ - -‘And he escaped?’ - -‘Yes, papa. As I was on my way to Ashburton, I passed through Prince’s -Town, and thus heard of it.’ - -‘Barbara! why did you keep this secret from me? If I had known it, I -would have run and taken the news myself to the police and the warders, -and have had him recaptured whilst he was ill in bed, unable to escape.’ - -It was now Barbara’s turn to express surprise. - -‘But, dear papa, what do you mean? You have told me yourself that you -knew all about Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘I knew nothing of this. My God! How thick the black spots are, and how -big and pointed!’ - -‘Papa dear, what do you mean? You assured me you knew everything.’ - -‘I knew nothing of this. I had not the least suspicion.’ - -‘But, papa’—Barbara was sick with terror—’you told me that this stood -as a bar between him and Eve?’ - -‘No—Barbara. I said that there was a barrier, but not this. Of this I -was ignorant.’ - -The room swam round with Barbara. She uttered a faint cry, and put the -back of her clenched hands against her mouth to choke another rising -cry. ‘I have betrayed him! My God! My God! What have I done?’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -CALLED TO ACCOUNT. - - -‘GO,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘bring Eve to me.’ - -Barbara obeyed mechanically. She had betrayed Jasper. Her father would -not spare him. The granite walls of Prince’s Town prison rose before -her, in the midst of a waste as bald as any in Greenland or Siberia. -She called her sister, bade her go into her father’s room, and then, -standing in the hall, placed her elbows on the window ledge, and -rested her brow and eyes in her palms. She was consigning Jasper back -to that miserable jail. She was incensed against him. She knew that -he was unworthy of her regard, that he had forfeited all right to her -consideration, and yet—she pitied him. She could not bring herself to -believe that he was utterly bad; to send him again to prison was to -ensure his complete ruin. - -‘Eve,’ said Mr. Jordan, when his youngest daughter came timidly into -the room, ‘tell me, whom did you meet on the Raven Rock?’ - -The girl hung her head and made no reply. She stood as a culprit before -a judge, conscious that his case is hopeless. - -‘Eve,’ he said again, ‘I insist on knowing. Whom did you meet?’ - -She tried to speak, but something rose in her throat, and choked her. -She raised her eyes timidly to her father, who had never, hitherto, -spoken an angry word to her. Tears and entreaty were in her eyes, but -the room was dark, night had fallen, and he could not see her face. - -‘Eve, tell me, was it Babb?’ - -She burst into a storm of sobs, and threw herself on her knees. ‘O -papa! sweetest, dearest papa! Do not ask me! I must not tell. I -promised him not to say. It is as much as his life is worth. He says he -never will be taken alive. If it were known that he was here the police -would be after him. Papa dear!’ she clasped and fondled, and kissed his -hand, she bathed it in her tears, ‘do not be angry with me. I can bear -anything but that. I do love you so, dear, precious papa!’ - -‘My darling,’ he replied, ‘I am not angry. I am troubled. I am on a -rock and hold you in my arms, and the black sea is rising—I can feel -it. Leave me alone, I am not myself.’ - -An hour later Barbara came in. - -‘What, papa—without a light?’ - -‘Yes—it is dark everywhere, within as without. The black spots have run -one into another and filled me. It will be better soon. When Jasper -Babb shows his face again, he shall be given up.’ - -‘O papa, let him escape this time. All we now want is to get him away -from this place, away from Eve.’ - -‘All we now want!’ repeated Mr. Jordan. ‘Let the man off who has -beggared Eve!’ - -‘Papa, Eve will be well provided for.’ - -‘He has robbed her.’ - -‘But, dear papa, consider. He has been your guest. He has worked for -you, he has eaten at your table, partaken of your salt. When you were -hurt, he carried you to your bed. He has been a devoted servant to -you.’ - -‘We are quits,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘He was nursed when he was ill. That -makes up for all the good he has done me. Then there is that other -account which can never be made up.’ - -‘I am sure, papa, he repents.’ - -‘And tries to snatch away Eve, as he has snatched away her fortune?’ - -‘Papa, there I think he may be excused. Consider how beautiful Eve -is. It is quite impossible for a man to see her and not love her. I -do not myself know what love is, but I have read about it, and I have -fancied to myself what it is—a kind of madness that comes on one, and -obscures the judgment. I do not believe that Mr. Jasper had any thought -of Eve at first, but little by little she won him. You know, papa, -how she has run after him, like a kitten; and so she has stolen his -heart out of his breast before he knew what she was about. Then, after -that, everything—honour, duty went. I dare say it is very hard for one -who loves to think calmly and act conscientiously! Would you like the -lights brought in, papa?’ - -He shook his head. - -‘You must not remain up longer than you can bear,’ she said. She took a -seat on a stool, and leaned her head on her hand, her elbow resting on -her knee. ‘Papa, whilst I have been waiting in the hall, I have turned -the whole matter over and over in my mind. Papa, I suppose that Eve’s -mother was very, very beautiful?’ - -He sighed in the dark and put his hands together. The pale twilight -through the window shone on them; they were white and ghost-like. - -‘Papa dear, I suppose that you saw her when she was ill every day, and -got to love her. I dare say you struggled against the feeling, but your -heart was too strong for your head and carried your resolutions away, -just as I have seen a flood on the Tamar against the dam at Abbotswear; -it has burst through all obstructions, and in a moment every trace of -the dam has disappeared. You were under the same roof with her. Then -there came a great ache here’—she touched her heart—’allowing you no -rest. Well, dear papa, I think it must have been so with Mr. Babb, he -saw our dear sweet Eve daily, and love for her swelled in his heart; he -formed the strongest resolutions, and platted them with the toughest -considerations, and stamped and wedged them in with vigorous effort, -but all was of no avail—the flood rose and burst over it and carried -all away.’ - -Mr. Jordan was touched by the allusion to his dead or lost wife, but -not in the manner Barbara intended. - -‘I have heard,’ continued Barbara, ‘that Eve’s mother was brought to -this house very ill, and that you cared for her till she was recovered. -Was it in this room? Was it in this bed?’ - -She heard a low moan, and saw the white hands raised in deprecation, or -in prayer. - -‘Then you sat here and watched her; and when she was in fever you -suffered; when her breath came so faint that you thought she was dying, -your very soul stood on tiptoe, agonised. When her eyes opened with -reason in them, your heart leaped. When she slept, you sat here with -your eyes on her face and could not withdraw them. Perhaps you took her -hand in the night, when she was vexed with horrible dreams, and the -pulse of your heart sent its waves against her hot, tossing, troubled -heart, and little by little cooled that fire, and brought peace to that -unrest. Papa, I dare say that somehow thus it came about that Eve got -interested in Mr. Jasper and grew to love him. I often let her take my -place when he was ill. You must excuse dearest Eve. It was my fault. -I should have been more cautious. But I thought nothing of it then. I -knew nothing of how love is sown, and throws up its leaves, and spreads -and fills the whole heart with a tangle of roots.’ - -In this last half hour Barbara had drawn nearer to her father than in -all her previous life. For once she had entered into his thoughts, -roused old recollections, both sweet and bitter—inexpressibly sweet, -unutterably bitter—and his heart was full of tears. - -‘Was Eve’s mother as beautiful as our darling?’ - -‘O yes, Barbara!’ His voice shook, and he raised his white hands to -cover his eyes. ‘Even more beautiful.’ - -‘And you loved her with all your heart?’ - -‘I have never ceased to love her. It is that, Barbara, which’—he put -his hands to his head, and she understood him—which disturbed his brain. - -‘But,’ he said, suddenly as waking from a dream, ‘Barbara, how do you -know all this? Who told you?’ - -She did not answer him, but she rose, knelt on the stool, put her arms -round his neck, and kissed him. Her cheeks were wet. - -‘You are crying, Barbara.’ - -‘I am thinking of your sorrows, dear papa.’ - -She was still kneeling on one knee, with her arms round her father. -‘Poor papa! I want to know really what became of Eve’s mother.’ - -The door was thrown open. - -‘Yes; that is what I have come to ask,’ said Jasper, entering the room, -holding a wax candle in each hand. He had intercepted the maid, Jane, -with the candles, taken them from her, and as she opened the door -entered, to hear Barbara’s question. The girl turned, dropped one arm, -but clung with the other to her father, who had just placed one of his -hands on her head. Her eyes, from having been so long in the dark, were -very large. She was pale, and her cheeks glistened with tears. - -She was too astonished to recover herself at once, dazzled by the -strong light; she could not see Jasper but she knew his voice. - -He put the candlesticks—they were of silver—on the table, shut the door -behind him, and standing before Mr. Jordan with bowed head, his earnest -eyes fixed on the old man’s face, he said again, ‘Yes, that is what I -have come to ask. Where is Eve’s mother?’ - -No one spoke. Barbara recovered herself first; she rose from the stool, -and stepped between her father and the steward. - -‘It is not you,’ she said, ‘who have a right to ask questions. It is we -who have to call you to account.’ - -‘For what, Miss Jordan?’ He spoke to her with deference—a certain tone -of reverence which never left him when addressing her. - -‘You must give an account of yourself,’ she said. - -‘I am just returned from Buckfastleigh,’ he answered. - -‘And, pray, how is your father who was dying?’ she asked, with a curl -of her lip and a quiver of contempt in her voice. - -‘He is well,’ replied Jasper. ‘I was deceived about his sickness. He -has not been ill. I was sent on a fool’s errand.’ - -‘Then,’ said Mr. Jordan, who had recovered himself, ‘what about the -money?’ - -‘The recovery of that is as distant as ever, but also as certain.’ - -‘Mr. Jasper Babb,’ exclaimed Ignatius Jordan, ‘you have not been to -Buckfastleigh at all. You have not seen your father; you have deceived -me with——’ - -Barbara hastily interrupted him, saying with beating heart, and with -colour rising to her pale checks, ‘I pray you, I pray you, say no more. -We know very well that you have not left this neighbourhood.’ - -‘I do not understand you, Miss Jordan. I am but just returned. My horse -is not yet unsaddled.’ - -‘Not another word,’ exclaimed the girl, with pain in her voice. ‘Not -another word if you wish us to retain a particle of regard for you. I -have pitied you, I have excused you but if you _lie_—I have said the -word, I cannot withdraw it—I give you up.’ Fire was in her heart, tears -in her throat. - -‘I will speak,’ said Jasper. ‘I value your regard, Miss Jordan, above -everything that the world contains. I cannot tamely lose that. There -has been a misapprehension. How it has arisen I do not know, but arisen -it has, and dissipated it shall be. It is true, as I said, that I was -deceived about my father’s condition, wilfully, maliciously deceived. -I rode yesterday to Buckfastleigh, and have but just returned. If my -father had been dying you would not have seen me here so soon.’ - -‘We cannot listen to this. We cannot endure this,’ cried Barbara. ‘Will -you madden me, after all that has been done for you? It is cruel, -cruel!’ Then, unable to control the flood of tears that rose to her -eyes, she left the room and the glare of candles. - -Jasper approached Mr. Jordan. He had not lost his self-restraint. ‘I do -not comprehend this charge of falsehood brought against me. I can bring -you a token that I have seen my father, a token you will not dispute. -He has told me who your second wife was. She was my sister. Will you do -me the justice to say that you believe me?’ - -‘Yes,’ answered the old man, faintly. - -‘May I recall Miss Jordan? I cannot endure that she should suppose me -false.’ - -‘If you will.’ - -‘One word more. Do you wish our kinship to be known to her, or is it to -be kept a secret, at least for a while?’ - -‘Do not tell her.’ - -Then Jasper went out into the hall. Barbara was there, in the window, -looking out into the dusk through the dull old glass of the lattice. - -‘Miss Jordan,’ said he, ‘I have ventured to ask you to return to your -father, and receive his assurance that I spoke the truth.’ - -‘But,’ exclaimed Barbara, turning roughly upon him, ‘you were on the -Raven Rock with my sister at sunset, and had your brother planted at -the gate to watch against intruders.’ - -‘My brother?’ - -‘Yes, a boy.’ - -‘I do not understand you.’ - -‘It is true. I saw him, I saw you. Eve confessed it. What do you say to -that?’ - -Jasper bit his thumb. - -Barbara laughed bitterly. - -‘I know why you pretended to go away—because a policeman was here on -Sunday, and you were afraid. Take care! I have betrayed you. Your -secret is known. You are not safe here.’ - -‘Miss Jordan,’ said the young man quietly, ‘you are mistaken. I did not -meet your sister. I would not deceive you for all the world contains. I -warn you that Miss Eve is menaced, and I was sent out of the way lest I -should be here to protect her.’ - -Barbara gave a little contemptuous gasp. - -‘I cannot listen to you any longer,’ she said angrily. ‘Take my -warning. Leave this place. It is no longer safe. I tell you—I, yes, I -have betrayed you.’ - -‘I will not go,’ said Jasper, ‘I dare not. I have the interest of your -family too near my heart to leave.’ - -‘You will not go!’ exclaimed Barbara, trembling with anger and scorn. -‘I neither believe you, nor trust you. I’—she set her teeth and said -through them, with her heart in her mouth—’Jasper, I _hate_ you!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -WANDERING LIGHTS. - - -NO sooner was Mr. Jordan left alone than his face became ghastly, and -his eyes were fixed with terror, as though he saw before him some -object of infinite horror. He put his quivering thin hands on the -elbows of his armchair and let himself slide to his knees, then he -raised his hollow eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands and wrung them; -his lips moved, but no vocal prayers issued from them. He lifted his -hands above his head, uttered a cry and fell forward on his face upon -the oak floor. Near his hand was his stick with which he rapped against -the wall or on the floor when he needed assistance. He laid hold of -this, and tried to raise himself, but faintness came over him, and he -fell again and lost all consciousness. - -When he recovered sufficiently to see what and who were about him, he -found that he had been lifted on to his bed by Jasper and Barbara, -and that Jane was in the room. His motion with his hands, his strain -to raise himself, had disturbed the bandages and reopened his wound, -which was again bleeding, and indeed had soaked through his clothes and -stained the floor. - -He said nothing, but his eyes watched and followed Jasper with a -mixture of hatred and fear in them. - -‘He irritates me,’ he whispered to his daughter; ‘send him out. I -cannot endure to see him.’ - -Then Barbara made an excuse for dismissing Jasper. - -When he was gone, Mr. Jordan’s anxiety instead of being allayed was -increased. He touched his daughter, and drew her ear to him, and -whispered, ‘Where is he now? What is he doing?’ - -‘I do not know, papa. He is probably in his room.’ - -‘Go and see.’ - -‘Papa dear, I cannot do that. Do you want him?’ - -‘Do _I_ want him? No, Barbara, but I do not choose that he shall -escape. Go and look if there is a light in his window.’ - -She was about to send Jane, when her father impatiently insisted on her -going herself. Wondering at his caprice she obeyed. - -No sooner was the door closed behind her, than the old man signed Jane -Welsh to come near him. - -‘Jane,’ he said in a whisper, ‘I want you to do something for me. -No one must know about it. You have a sweetheart, I’ve heard, the -policeman, Joseph Woodman, at Tavistock.’ - -The girl pulled at the ends of her apron, and looking down, said, -‘Lawk! How folks do talk!’ - -‘Is it true, Jane?’ - -‘Well, sir, I won’t deny us have been keeping company, and on Sunday -went to a love-feast together.’ - -‘That is well,’ said Mr. Jordan earnestly, with his wild eyes gleaming. -‘Quick, before my daughter comes. Stand nearer. No one must hear. Would -you do Joseph a good turn and get him a sergeantry?’ - -‘O please, sir!’ - -‘Then run as fast as you can to Tavistock.’ - -‘Please, sir, I durstn’t. It be night and it’s whisht[2] over the moor.’ - -‘Then leave it, and I will send someone else, and you will lose your -lover.’ - -‘What do you want me to do, sir? I wouldn’t have that neither.’ - -‘Then run to Tavistock, and tell Joseph Woodman to communicate at once -with the warder of the Prince’s Town jail, and bid him bring sufficient -men with him, and come here, and I will deliver into their hands a -runaway convict, a man who broke out of jail not long ago.’ - -‘Please, sir, where is he? Lawk, sir! What if he were on the moor as I -went over it?’ - -‘Never mind where he is. I will produce him at the right moment. Above -all—Jane—remember this, not a word of what I have said to Mr. Jasper or -to Miss Barbara. Go secretly, and go at once. Hush! Here she comes.’ - -Barbara entered. ‘A light is in his window,’ she said. Then her father -laughed, and shut his hands. - -‘So,’ he muttered, ‘so I shall snap him. - -When her father was composed, and seemed inclined to sleep, Barbara -left his room, and went out of the house. She needed to be by herself. -Her bosom heaved. She had so much to think of, so many troubles had -come upon her, the future was dark, the present uncertain. - -If she were in the house she would not be able to enjoy that quiet for -which she craved, in which to compose the tumult of her heart, and -arrange her ideas. There she was sure to be disturbed: a maid would -ask for a duster, or another bunch of candles; the cook would send to -announce that the chimney of the kitchen was out of order, the soot -or mortar was falling down it; the laundrymaid would ask for soap; -Eve would want to be amused. Every other minute she would have some -distracting though trifling matter forced on her. She must be alone. -Her heart yearned for it. She would not go to the Rock, the association -with it was painful. It was other with the moor, Morwell Down, open to -every air, without a tree behind which an imp might lurk and hoot and -make mows. - -Accordingly, without saying a word to anyone, Barbara stole along the -lane to the moor. - -That was a sweet summer night. The moon was not yet risen, the stars -were in the sky, not many, for the heaven was not dark, but suffused -with lost sunlight. To the east lay the range of Dartmoor mountains, -rugged and grey; to the west, peaked and black against silver, the -Cornish tors. But all these heights on this night were scintillating -with golden moving spots of fire. The time had come for what is locally -called ‘swaling,’ that is, firing the whinbrakes. In places half a -hill side was flaked with red flame, then it flared yellow, then died -away. Clouds of smoke, tinged with fire reflection from below, rolled -away before the wind. When the conflagration reached a dense and tall -tree-like mass of gorse the flame rose in a column, or wavered like a -golden tongue. Then, when the material was exhausted and no contiguous -brake continued the fire, the conflagration ended, and left only a -patch of dull glowing scarlet ember. - -Barbara leaned against the last stone hedge which divided moor from -field, and looked at the moving lights without thinking of the beauty -and wildness of the spectacle. She was steeped in her own thoughts, and -was never at any time keenly alive to the beautiful and the fantastic. - -She thought of Jasper. She had lost all faith in him. He was false and -deceitful. What could she believe about that meeting on the Raven Rock? -He might have convinced her father that he was not there. He could not -convince her. What was to be done? Would her father betray the man? He -was ill now and could do nothing. Why was Jasper so obstinate as to -refuse to leave? Why? Because he was infatuated with Eve. - -On that very down it was that Jasper had been thrown and nearly -killed. If only he had been killed outright. Why had she nursed him so -carefully? Far better to have left him on the moor to die. How dare he -aspire to Eve? The touch of his hand carried a taint. Her brain was -dark, yet, like that landscape, full of wandering sparks of fire. She -could not think clearly. She could not feel composedly. Those moving, -wavering fires, now rushing up in sheaves of flame, now falling into -a sullen glow burnt on the sides of solid mountains, but her fiery -thoughts, that sent a blaze into her cheek and eye, and then died -into a slow heat, moved over tossing billows of emotion. She put her -hand to her head as if by grasping it she could bring her thoughts to -a standstill; she pressed her hands against her bosom, as if by so -doing she could fix her emotions. The stars in the serene sky burned -steadily, ever of one brightness. Below, these wandering fires flared, -glowed, and went out. Was it not a picture of the contrast between life -on earth and life in the settled celestial habitations? Barbara was not -a girl with much fancy, but some such a thought came into her mind, -and might have taken form had not she at the moment seen a dark figure -issue from the lane. - -‘Who goes there?’ she called imperiously. - -The figure stopped, and after a moment answered: ‘Oh, Miss! you have -a-given me a turn. It be me, Jane.’ - -‘And pray,’ said Barbara, ‘what brings you here at night? Whither are -you going?’ - -The girl hesitated, and groped in her mind for an excuse. Then she -said: ‘I want, miss, to go to Tavistock.’ - -‘To Tavistock! It is too late. Go home to bed.’ - -‘I must go, Miss Barbara. I’m sure I don’t want to. I’m scared of my -life, but the master have sent me, and what can I do? He’ve a-told me -to go to Joseph Woodman.’ - -‘It is impossible, at this time. It must not be.’ - -‘But, Miss, I promised I’d go, and sure enough I don’t half like -it, over those downs at night, and nobody knows what one may meet. -I wouldn’t be caught by the Whish Hounds and Black Copplestone, not -for’—the girl’s imagination was limited, so she concluded, ‘well, Miss, -not for nothing.’ - -Barbara considered a moment, and then said, ‘I have no fear. I will -accompany you over the Down, till you come to habitations. I am not -afraid of returning alone.’ - -‘Thank you, Miss Barbara, you be wonderfully good.’ - -The girl was, indeed, very grateful for her company. She had had her -nerves sorely shaken by the encounter with Watt, and now in the fulness -of her thankfulness she confided to her mistress all that Mr. Jordan -had said, concluding with her opinion that probably ‘It was naught but -a fancy of the Squire; he do have fancies at times. Howsomever, us must -humour ‘m.’ - -Jasper also had gone forth. In his breast also was trouble, and a sharp -pain, that had come with a spasm when Barbara told him how she hated -him. - -But Jasper did not go to Morwell Down. He went towards the Raven Rock -that lay on the farther side of the house. He also desired to be alone -and under the calm sky. He was stifled by the air of a house, depressed -by the ceiling. - -The words of Barbara had wounded him rather than stung him. She had not -only told him that she hated him, but had given the best proof of her -sincerity by betraying him. Suspecting him of carrying on an unworthy -intrigue with Eve, she had sacrificed him to save her sister. He could -not blame her, her first duty was towards Eve. One comfort he had that, -though Barbara had betrayed him, she did not seek his punishment, she -sought only his banishment from Morwell. - -Once—just once—he had half opened her heart, looked in, and fancied he -had discovered a tender regard for him lurking in its bottom. Since -then Barbara had sought every opportunity of disabusing his mind of -such an idea. And now, this night, she had poured out her heart at his -feet, and shown him hatred, not love. - -Jasper’s life had been one of self-denial. There had been little joy in -it. Anxieties had beset him from early childhood; solicitude for his -brother, care not to offend his father. By nature he had a very loving -heart, but he had grown up with none to love save his brother, who had -cruelly abused his love. A joyous manhood never ensues on a joyless -boyhood. Jasper was always sensible of an inner sadness, even when he -was happy. His brightest joys were painted on a sombre background, but -then, how much brighter they seemed by the contrast—alas, only, that -they were so few! The circumstances of his rearing had driven him in -upon himself, so that he lived an inner life, which he shared with no -one, and which was unperceived by all. Now, as he stood on the Rock, -with an ache at his heart, Jasper uncovered his head, and looked into -the softly lighted vault, set with a few faint stars. As he stood thus -with his hands folded over his hat, and looked westward at the clear, -cold, silvery sky behind and over the Cornish moors, an unutterable -yearning strained his heart. He said no word, he thought no thought. -He simply stood uncovered under the summer night sky, and from his -heart his pain exhaled. - -Did he surmise that at that same time Barbara was standing on the moor, -also looking away beyond the horizon, also suffering, yearning, without -knowing for what she longed? No, he had no thought of that. - -And as both thus stood far removed in body, but one in sincerity, -suffering, fidelity, there shot athwart the vault of heaven a brilliant -dazzling star. - -Mr. Coyshe at his window, smoking, said: ‘By Ginger! a meteor!’ - -But was it not an angel bearing the dazzling chalice of the sangreal -from highest heaven, from the region of the still stars, down to this -world of flickering, fading, wandering fires, to minister therewith -balm to two distressed spirits? - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -THE OWLS. - - -BARBARA had been interrupted in her meditations, so was Jasper. As he -stood lost in a painful dream, but with a dew from heaven falling on -his parched soul, suddenly he was startled out of his abstraction by a -laugh and an exclamation at his elbow. - -‘Well, Jasper, composing verses to the weak-eyed Leah or the blue-orbed -Rachel?’ - -‘What brings you here, Watt?’ asked Jasper, disguising his annoyance. - -‘Or, my sanctimonious fox, are you waiting here for one of the silly -geese to run to you?’ - -‘You have come here bent on mischief,’ said Jasper, disdaining to -notice his jokes. - -The evening, the still scene, the solitary platform raised so high -above the land beyond, had seemed holy, soothing as a church, and now, -at once, with the sound of Walter’s voice, the feeling was gone, all -seemed desecrated. - -‘Watt,’ said Jasper, sternly, ‘you sent me away to Buckfastleigh by a -lie. Why did you do that? It is utterly false that my father is ill and -dying.’ - -‘Is it so? Then I dreamed it, Jasper. Morning dreams come true, folks -say. There, my brother, you are a good, forgiving fellow. You will -pardon me. The fact is that Martin and I wanted to know how matters -went at home. I did not care to go myself, Martin could not go, so—I -sent you, my good simpleton.’ - -‘You told me a lie.’ - -‘If I had told you the truth you would not have gone. What was that -we were taught at school? “Magna est veritas, et prævalebit.” I don’t -believe it; experience tells me the contrary. Long live lies; they win -the day all the world over.’ - -‘What brings you here?’ - -‘Have I not told you? I desired to see you and to have news of my -father. You have been quick about it, Jasper. I could scarce believe my -eyes when I saw you riding home.’ - -‘You have been watching?’ - -‘Of course I have. My eyes are keen. Nothing escapes them.’ - -‘Walter, this will not do. I am not deceived; you did not come here for -the purpose you say. You want something else, what is it?’ - -The boy laughed, snapped his fingers, and began to dance, whistling a -tune, on the rock; approaching, then backing from Jasper. - -‘Oh, you clever old Jasper!’ he laughed, ‘now you begin to see—like the -puppy pitched into the water-butt, who opened his eyes when too late.’ - -Jasper folded his arms. He said nothing, but waited till the boy’s mad -pranks came to an end. At last Watt, seeing that he could not provoke -his brother, desisted, and came to him with affected humility. - -‘There, Jasper—Saint Jasper, I mean—I will be quiet and go through my -catechism.’ - -‘Then tell me why you are here.’ - -‘Well, now, you shall hear our scheme. Martin and I thought that you -had better patch up your little quarrel with father, and then we knew -we should have a good friend at his ear to prompt forgiveness, and so, -perhaps, as his conscience stirred, his purse-strings might relax, and -you would be able to send us a trifle in money. Is not this reasonable?’ - -Yes, there could be no denying it, this was reasonable and consistent -with the characters of the two, who would value their father’s favour -only by what it would profit them. Nevertheless Jasper was unsatisfied. -Watt was so false, so unscrupulous, that his word never could be -trusted. - -Jasper considered for a few minutes, then he asked, ‘Where is Martin—is -he here?’ - -‘Here!’ jeered the boy, ‘Martin here, indeed! not he. He is in safe -quarters. Where he is I will blab to no one, not even to you. He sends -me out from his ark of refuge as the dove, or rather as the raven, to -bring him news of the world from which he is secluded.’ - -‘Walter, answer me this. Who met Miss Eve this evening on this very -rock? Answer me truly. More depends on this than you are aware of.’ - -‘Miss Eve! What do you mean? My sister who is dead and gone? I do not -relish the company of ghosts.’ - -‘You know whom I mean. This is miserable evasion. I mean the younger of -the daughters of Mr. Jordan. She was here at sundown this evening and -someone was with her. I conjure you by all that you hold sacred——’ - -‘I hold nothing sacred,’ said the boy. - -‘I conjure you most solemnly to tell me the whole truth, as brother to -brother.’ - -‘Well, then—as brother to brother—I did.’ - -‘For what purpose, Watt?’ - -‘My dear Jasper, can we live on air? Here am I hopping about the woods, -roosting in the branches, and there is poor Martin mewed up in his ark. -I must find food for him and myself. You know that I have made the -acquaintance of the young lady who, oddly enough, bears the name of our -dear departed mother and sister. I have appealed to her compassion, and -held out my hat for money. I offered to dance on my head, to turn a -wheel all round the edge of this cliff, in jeopardy of my life for half -a guinea, and she gave me the money to prevent me from risking broken -bones.’ - -‘Oh, Watt, you should not have done this!’ - -‘We must live. We must have money.’ - -‘But, Watt, where is all that which was taken from my pocket?’ - -‘Gone,’ answered the boy. ‘Gone as the snow before south-west wind. -Nothing melts like money, not even snow, no, nor butter, no, nor -a girl’s heart.’ Then with a sly laugh, ‘Jasper, where does old -addle-brains keep his strong box?’ - -‘Walter!’ exclaimed Jasper, indignantly. - -‘Ah!’ laughed the boy, ‘if I knew where it was I would creep to it by a -mouse hole, and put my little finger into the lock, and when I turned -that, open flies the box.’ - -‘Walter, forbear. You are a wicked boy.’ - -‘I confess it. I glory in it. Father always said I was predestined to——’ - -‘Be silent,’ ordered Jasper, angrily; ‘you are insufferable.’ - -‘There, do not ruffle your feathers over a joke. Have you some money to -give me now?’ - -‘Watt,’ said Jasper, very sternly, ‘answer me frankly, if you can. I -warn you.’ He laid his hand on the boy’s arm. ‘A great deal depends on -your giving me a truthful answer. Is Martin anywhere hereabouts? I fear -he is, in spite of your assurances, for where you are he is not often -far away. The jackal and the lion hunt together.’ - -‘He is not here. Good-bye, old brother Grave-airs.’ Then he ran away, -but before he had gone far turned and hooted like an owl, and ran on, -and was lost in the gloom of the woods, but still as he ran hooted -at intervals, and owls answered his cry from the rocks, and flitted -ghost-like about in the dusk, seeking their brother who called them and -mocked at them. - -Now that he was again alone, Jasper in vain sought to rally his -thoughts and recover his former frame of mind. But that was not -possible. Accordingly he turned homewards. - -He was very tired. He had had two long days’ ride, and had slept little -if at all the previous night. Though recovered after his accident he -was not perfectly vigorous, and the two hard days and broken rest had -greatly tired him. On reaching Morwell he did not take a light, but -cast himself, in his clothes, on his bed, and fell into a heavy sleep. - -Barbara walked quietly back after having parted with Jane. She hoped -that Jasper had on second thoughts taken the prudent course of -escaping. It was inconceivable that he should remain and allow himself -to be retaken. She was puzzled how to explain his conduct. Then all at -once she remembered that she had left the convict suit in her father’s -room; she had forgotten to remove it. She quickened her pace and -arrived breathless at Morwell. - -She entered her father’s apartment on tiptoe. She stood still and -listened. A night-light burned on the floor, and the enclosing iron -pierced with round holes cast circles of light about the walls. The -candle was a rushlight of feeble illuminating power. - -Barbara could see her father lying, apparently asleep, in bed, with his -pale thin hands out, hanging down, clasped, as if in prayer; one of the -spots of light danced over the finger tips and nails. She heard him -breathe, as in sleep. - -Then she stepped across the room to where she had cast the suit of -clothes. They lay in a grey heap, with the spots of light avoiding -them, dancing above them, but not falling on them. - -Barbara stooped to pick them up. - -‘Stay, Barbara,’ said her father. ‘I hear you. I see what you are -doing. I know your purpose. Leave those things where they lie.’ - -‘O papa! dear papa, suffer me to put them away.’ - -‘Let them lie there, where I can see them.’ - -‘But, papa, what will the maids think when they come in? Besides it is -untidy to let them litter about the floor.’ - -He made an impatient gesture with his hand. - -‘May I not, at least, fold them and lay them on the chair?’ - -‘You may not touch them at all,’ he said in a tone of irritation. She -knew his temper too well to oppose him further. - -‘Good night, dear papa. I suppose Eve is gone to bed?’ - -‘Yes; go also.’ - -She was obliged, most reluctantly, to leave the room. She ascended -the stairs, and entered her own sleeping apartment. From this a door -communicated with that of her sister. She opened this door and with her -light entered and crossed it. - -Eve had gone to bed, and thrown all her clothes about on the floor. -Barbara had some difficulty in picking her way among the scattered -articles. When she came to the bedside, she stood, and held her candle -aloft, and let the light fall over the sleeping girl. - -How lovely she was, with her golden hair in confusion on the pillow! -She was lying with her cheek on one rosy palm, and the other hand -was out of bed, on the white sheet—and see! upon the finger, Barbara -recognised the turquoise ring. Eve did not venture to wear this by -day. At night, in her room, she had thrust the golden hoop over her -finger, and had gone to sleep without removing it. - -Barbara stooped, and kissed her sister’s cheek. Eve did not awake, but -smiled in slumber; a dimple formed at the corner of her mouth. - -Then Barbara went to her own room, opened her desk, and the secret -drawer, and looked at the bunch of dry roses. They were very yellow -now, utterly withered and worthless. The girl took them, stooped her -face to them—was it to discover if any scent lingered in the faded -leaves? Then she closed the drawer and desk again, with a sigh. - -Was Barbara insensible to what is beautiful, inappreciative of the -poetry of life? Surely not. She had been forced by circumstances to be -practical, to devote her whole thought to the duties of the house and -estate; she had said to herself that she had no leisure to think of -those things that make life graceful; but through her strong, direct, -and genuine nature ran a ‘Leitmotif’ of sweet, pure melody, kept under -and obscured by the jar and jangle of domestic cares and worries, but -never lost. There is no nature, however vulgar, that is deficient in -its musical phrase, not always quite original and unique, and only the -careless listener marks it not. The patient, attentive ear suspects its -presence first, listens for it, recognises it, and at last appreciates -it. - -In poor faithful Barbara now the sweet melody, somewhat sad, was -rising, becoming articulate, asserting itself above all other sounds -and adventitious strains—but, alas! there was no ear to listen to it. - -Barbara went to her window and opened it. - -‘How the owls are hooting to-night!’ she said. ‘They, like myself, are -full of unrest. To-whit! To-whoo!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -THE DOVES. - - -BARBARA had no thought of going to bed. She could not have slept had -she gone. There was a clock in the tower, a noisy clock that made its -pulsations heard through the quadrangle, and this clock struck twelve. -By this time Jane had roused the young policeman, and he was collecting -men to assist him in the capture. Perhaps they were already on their -way,—or were they waiting for the arrival of warders from Prince’s -Town? Those warders were more dangerous men than the constables, for -they were armed with short guns, and prepared to fire should their game -attempt to break away. - -She looked across the court at Jasper’s window. No light was in it. Was -he there, asleep? or had he taken her advice and gone? She could not -endure the thought of his capture, the self-reproach of having betrayed -him was more than she could bear. Barbara, usually so collected and -cool, was now nervous and hot. - -More light was in the sky than had been when she was on the down. The -moon was rising over the roof. She could not see it, but she saw the -reflection in Jasper’s window, like flakes of silver. - -What should she do? Her distress became insupportable, and she felt she -must be doing something to relieve her mind. The only thing open to her -was to make another attempt to recover the prison suit. If she could -destroy that, it would be putting out of the way one piece of evidence -against him—a poor piece, still a piece. She was not sure that it would -avail him anything, but it was worth risking her father’s anger on the -chance. - -She descended the stairs once more to her father’s room. The door -was ajar, with a feeble yellow streak issuing from it. She looked -in cautiously. Then with the tread of a thief she entered and passed -through a maze of quivering bezants of dull light. She stooped, but, -as she touched the garments, heard her father’s voice, and started -upright. He was speaking in his sleep—’De profundis clamavi ad te;’ -then he tossed and moaned, and put up his hand and held it shaking -in the air. ‘_Si iniquitates_’—he seemed troubled in his sleep, -unable to catch the sequence of words, and repeated ‘_Si iniquitates -observaveris_,’ and lay still on his pillow again; whilst Barbara stood -watching him, with her finger to her lip, afraid to move, afraid of the -consequences, should he wake and see her in her disobedience. - -Then he mumbled, and she heard him pulling at his sheet. ‘Out of love, -out of the deeps of love, I have sinned.’ Then suddenly he cried out, -‘_Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine, quis sustinebit?_’—he had the -sentence complete, or nearly so, and it appeased him. Barbara heard him -sigh, she stole to his side, bowed over his ear, and said, ‘_Apud te -propitiatio est: speravit anima mea in Domino._’ Whether he heard or -not she did not know; he breathed thenceforth evenly in sleep, and the -expression of distress left his face. - -Then Barbara took up the bundle of clothes and softly withdrew. She was -risking something for Jasper—the loss of her father’s regard. She had -recently drawn nearer to his heart than ever before, and he had allowed -her to cling round his neck and kiss him. Yet now she deliberately -disobeyed him. He would be very angry next morning. - -When she was in the hall she turned over in her mind what was best to -be done with the clothes. She could not hide them in the house. Her -father would insist on their reproduction. They must be destroyed. She -could not burn them: the fire in the kitchen was out. The only way she -could think of getting rid of them was to carry them to the Raven Rock -and throw them over the precipice. This, accordingly, she did. She -left the house, and in the moonlight walked through the fields and wood -to the crag and hurled the bundle over the edge. - -Now that this piece of evidence against Jasper was removed, it was -expedient that he should escape without further delay—if he were still -at Morwell. - -Barbara had a little money of her own. When she unlocked her desk -and looked at the withered flowers, she drew from it her purse, that -contained her savings. There were several pounds in it. She drew the -knitted silk purse from her pocket, and, standing in the moonlight, -counted the sovereigns in her hand. She was standing before the -gatehouse near the old trees, hidden by their shadow. She looked up at -Jasper’s other window—that which commanded the entrance and was turned -from the moon. Was he there? How could she communicate with him, give -him the money, and send him off? Then the grating clock in the tower -tolled one. Time was passing, danger drew on apace. Something must be -done. Barbara picked up some pebbles and threw them at Jasper’s window, -but her aim was bad or her arm shook, and they scattered without -touching the glass. - -All at once she heard feet—a trampling in the lane—and she saw also -that lights were burning on the down. The lights were merely gorse -blazes, for Morwell Moor was being ‘swaled,’ and the flames were -creeping on; and the trampling was of young colts and bullocks that fed -on the down, which were escaping before the fires; but to Barbara’s -nervous fear the lights and the tramp betokened the approach of a body -of men to capture Jasper Babb. Then, without any other thought but to -save him, she ran up the stair, struck at his door, threw it open, and -entered. He started from his bed, on which he had cast himself fully -dressed, and from dead weariness had dropped asleep. - -‘For God’s dear sake,’ said Barbara, ‘come away! They are after you; -they are close to the house. Here is money—take it, and go by the -garden.’ - -She stood in the door, holding it, trembling in all her limbs, and the -door she held rattled. - -He came straight towards her. - -‘Miss Jordan!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, Miss Jordan I shall never forgive -myself. Go down into the garden—I will follow at once. I will speak to -you; I will tell you all.’ - -‘I do not wish you to speak. I insist on your going.’ - -He came to her, took her hand from the door, and led her down the -stairs. As they came out into the gateway they heard the tramp of many -feet, and a rush of young cattle debouched from the lane upon the open -space before the gate. - -Barbara was not one to cry, but she shivered and shrank before her eyes -told her what a mistake she had made. - -‘Here,’ she said, ‘I give you my purse. Go!’ - -‘No,’ answered Jasper. ‘There is no occasion for me to go. I have acted -wrongly, but I did it for the best. You see, there is no occasion for -fear. These ponies have been frightened by the flames, and have come -through the moor-gate, which has been left open. I must see that they -do not enter the court and do mischief.’ - -‘Never mind about the cattle, I pray you. Go! Take this money; it is -mine. I freely give it you. Go!’ - -‘Why are you so anxious about me if you hate me?’ asked Jasper. ‘Surely -it would gratify hate to see me handcuffed and carried off!’ - -‘No, I do not hate you—that is, not so much as to desire that. I have -but one desire concerning you—that we should never see your face again.’ - -‘Miss Jordan, I shall not be taken.’ - -She flared up with rage, disappointment, shame. ‘How dare you!’ she -cried. ‘How dare you stand here and set me at naught, when I have done -so much for you—when I have even ventured to rouse you in the depth of -night! My God! you are enough to madden me. I will not have the shame -come on this house of having you taken here. Yes—I recall my words—I do -hate you.’ - -She wrung her hands; Jasper caught them and held them between his own. - -‘Miss Barbara, I have deceived you. Be calm.’ - -‘I know only too well that you have deceived me—all of us,’ she said -passionately. ‘Let go my hands.’ - -‘You misunderstand me. I shall not be taken, for I am not pursued. I -never took your sister’s money. I have never been in jail.’ - -She plucked her hands away. - -‘I do not comprehend.’ - -‘Nevertheless, what I say is simple. You have supposed me to be a thief -and an escaped convict. I am neither.’ - -Barbara shook her head impatiently. - -‘I have allowed you to think it for reasons of my own. But now you must -be undeceived.’ - -The young cattle were galloping about in front, kicking, snorting, -trying the hedges. Jasper left Barbara for a while that he might drive -them into a field where they could do no harm. She remained under the -great gate in the shadow, bewildered, hoping that what he now said was -true, yet not daring to believe his words. - -Presently he returned to her. He had purposely left her that she might -have time to compose herself. When he returned she was calm and stern. - -‘You cannot blind me with your falsehoods,’ she said. ‘I know that -Mr. Ezekiel Babb was robbed by his own son. I know the prison suit -was yours. You confessed it when I showed it you on your return -to consciousness: perhaps before you were aware how seriously you -committed yourself. I know that you were in jail at Prince’s Town, and -that you escaped.’ - -‘Well, Miss Jordan, what you say is partly true, and partly incorrect.’ - -‘Are you not Mr. Babb’s son?’ she asked imperiously. - -He bowed; he was courtly in manner. - -‘Was not his son found guilty of robbing him?’ - -He bowed again. - -‘Was he not imprisoned for so doing?’ - -‘He was so.’ - -‘Did he not escape from prison?’ - -‘He did.’ - -‘And yet,’ exclaimed Barbara angrily, ‘you dare to say with one breath -that you are innocent, whilst with the next you confess your guilt! -Like the satyr in the fable, I would drive you from my presence, you -blower of true and false!’ - -He caught her hands again and held her firmly, whilst he drew her out -of the shadow of the archway into the moonlight of the court. - -‘Do you give it up?’ he asked; and, by the moon, the sickle moon, on -his pale face, she saw him smile. By that same moon he saw the frown on -her brow. ‘Miss Barbara, I am not Ezekiel Babb’s _only_ son!’ - -Her heart stood still; then the blood rushed through her veins like the -tidal bore in the Severn. The whole of the sky seemed full of daylight. -She saw all now clearly. Her pride, her anger fell from her as the -chains fell from Peter when the angel touched him. - -‘No, Miss Jordan, I am guiltless in this matter—guiltless in everything -except in having deceived you.’ - -‘God forgive you!’ she said in a low tone as her eyes fell and tears -rushed to them. She did not draw her hands from his. She was too much -dazed to know that he held them. ‘God forgive you!—you have made me -suffer very much!’ - -She did not see how his large earnest eyes were fixed upon her, how he -was struggling with his own heart to refrain from speaking out what he -felt; but had she met his eye then in the moonlight, there would have -been no need of words, only a quiver of the lips, and they would have -been clasped in each other’s arms. - -She did not look up; she was studying, through a veil of tears, some -white stones that caught the moonlight. - -‘This is not the time for me to tell you the whole sad tale,’ he -went on. ‘I have acted as I thought my duty pointed out—my duty to a -brother.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘you have a brother—that strange boy.’ - -A laugh, jeering and shrill, close in their ears. From behind the great -yew appeared the shoulders and face of the impish Walter. - -‘Oh, the pious, the proper Jasper! Oh, ho, ho! What frail men these -saints are who read their Bibles to weak-eyed Leahs and blooming -Rachels, and make love to both! - -He pointed jeeringly at them with his long fingers. - -‘I set the down on fire for a little fun. I drove the ponies along this -lane; and see, I have disturbed a pair of ring-doves as well. I won’t -hoot any more; but—coo! coo! coo!’ He ran away, but stopped every now -and then and sent back to them his insulting imitations of the call of -wood-pigeons—’Coo! coo! coo!’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -THE ALARM BELL. - - -NEXT morning Barbara entered the hall after having seen about the -duties of the house, ordered dinner, weighed out spices and groats, -made the under-servant do the work of Jane, who was absent; she moved -about her usual duties with her usual precision and order, but without -her usual composure. - -When she came into the hall on her way to her father’s room, she found -Eve there engaged and hard at work on some engrossing occupation. - -‘Oh, Bab! do come and see how bright and beautiful I am making this,’ -said the girl in overflowing spirits and pride. ‘I found it in the -chest in the garret, and I am furbishing it up.’ She held out a sort -of necklace or oriental carcanet, composed of chains of gold beads and -bezants. ‘It was so dull when I found it, and now it shines like pure -gold!’ Her innocent, childish face was illumined with delight. ‘I am -become really industrious.’ - -‘Yes, dear; hard at work doing nothing.’ - -‘I should like to wear this,’ she sighed. - -That she had deceived her sister, that she had given her occasion to be -anxious about her, had quite passed from her mind, occupied only with -glittering toys. - -Barbara hesitated at her father’s door. She knew that a painful -scene awaited her. He was certain to be angry and reproach her for -having disobeyed him. But her heart was relieved. She believed in -the innocence of Jasper. Strengthened by this faith, she was bold to -confront her father. - -She tapped at the door and entered. - -She saw at once that he had heard her voice without, and was expecting -her. There was anger in his strange eyes, and a hectic colour in his -hollow cheeks. He was partly dressed, and sat on the side of the bed. -In his hand he held the stick with which he was wont to rap when he -needed assistance. - -‘Where are the clothes that lay on the floor last night?’ was his -salutation, pointing with the stick to the spot whence Barbara had -gathered them up. - -‘They are gone, papa; I have taken them away.’ - -She looked him firmly in the face with her honest eyes, unwincing. He, -however, was unable to meet her steadfast gaze. His eyes flickered and -fell. His mouth was drawn and set with a hard, cruel expression, such -as his face rarely wore; a look which sometimes formed, but was as -quickly effaced by a wave of weakness. Now, however, the expression was -fixed. - -‘I forbade you to touch them. Did you hear me?’ - -‘Yes, dear papa, I have disobeyed you, and I am sorry to have offended -you; but I cannot say that I repent having taken the clothes away. I -found them, and I had a right to remove them.’ - -‘Bring them here immediately.’ - -‘I cannot do so. I have destroyed them.’ - -‘You have dared to do that!’ His eyes began to kindle and the colour -left his cheeks, which became white as chalk. Barbara saw that he had -lost command over himself. His feeble reason was overwhelmed by passion. - -‘Papa,’ she said, in her calmest tones, ‘I have never disobeyed you -before. Only on this one occasion my conscience——’ - -‘Conscience!’ he cried. ‘I have a conscience in a thornbush, and yours -is asleep in feathers. You have dared to creep in here like a thief in -the night and steal from me what I ordered you to leave.’ - -He was playing with his stick, clutching it in the middle and turning -it. With his other hand he clutched and twisted and almost tore the -sheets. Barbara believed that he would strike her, but when he said -‘Come here,’ she approached him, looking him full in the face without -shrinking. - -She knew that he was not responsible for what he did, yet she did not -hesitate about obeying his command to approach. She had disobeyed him -in the night in a matter concerning another, to save that other; she -would not disobey now to save herself. - -His face was ugly with unreasoning fury, and his eyes wilder than she -had seen them before. He held up the stick. - -‘Papa,’ she said, ‘not your right arm, or you will reopen the wound.’ - -Her calmness impressed him. He changed the stick into his left hand, -and, gathering up the sheet into a knot, thrust it into his mouth and -bit into it. - -Was the moment come that Barbara had long dreaded? And was she to be -the one on whom his madness first displayed itself? - -‘Papa,’ she said, ‘I will take any punishment you think fit, but, pray, -do not strike me, I cannot bear that—not for my own sake, but for -yours.’ - -He paid no attention to her remonstrance, but raised the stick, holding -it by the ferule. - -Steadily looking into his sparkling eyes, Barbara repeated the words -he had muttered and cried in his sleep, ‘_De profundis clamavi ad te, -Domine. Si iniquitates observaveris, quis sustinebit?_’ - -Then, as in a dissolving view on a sheet one scene changes into -another, so in his wild eyes the expression of rage shifted to one of -fear; he dropped the stick, and Jasper, who at that moment entered, -took it and laid it beyond his reach. - -Mr. Jordan fell back on his pillow and moaned, and put his hands over -his brow, and beat his temples with his palms. He would not look at his -daughter again, but peevishly turned his face away. - -Now Barbara’s strength deserted her; she felt as if the floor under her -feet were rolling and as if the walls of the room were contracting upon -her. - -‘I must have air,’ she said. Jasper caught her arm and led her through -the hall into the garden. - -Eve, alarmed to see her sister so colourless, ran to support her on the -other side, and overwhelmed her with inconsiderate attentions. - -‘You must allow her time to recover herself,’ said Jasper. ‘Miss Jordan -has been up a good part of the night. The horses on the down were -driven on the premises by the fire and alarmed her and made her rise. -She will be well directly.’ - -‘I am already recovered,’ said Barbara, with affected cheerfulness. -‘The room was close. I should like to be left a little bit in the sun -and air, by myself, and to myself.’ - -Eve readily ran back to her burnishing of the gold beads and bezants, -and Jasper heard Mr. Jordan calling him, so he went to his room. He -found the sick gentleman with clouded brow and closed lips, and eyes -that gave him furtive glances but could not look at him steadily. - -‘Jasper Babb,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘I do not wish you to leave the house -or its immediate precincts to-day. Jane has not returned, Eve is -unreliable, and Barbara overstrained.’ - -‘Yes, sir, I will do as you wish.’ - -‘On no account leave. Send Miss Jordan to me when she is better.’ - -When, about half-an-hour after, Barbara entered the room, she went -direct to her father to kiss him, but he repelled her. - -‘What did you mean,’ he asked, without looking at her, ‘by those words -of the Psalm?’ - -‘Oh, papa! I thought to soothe you. You are fond of the _De -Profundis_—you murmur it in your sleep.’ - -‘You used the words significantly. What are the deeds I have done amiss -for which you reproach me?’ - -‘We all need pardon—some for one thing, some for another. And, dearest -papa, we all need to say ‘_Apud te propitiatio est: speravit anima mea -in Domino._’ - -‘_Propitiatio!_’ repeated Mr. Jordan, and resumed his customary trick -of brushing his forehead with his hand as though to sweep cobwebs from -it which fell over and clouded his eyes. ‘For what? Say out plainly -of what you accuse me. I am prepared for the worst. I cannot endure -these covert stabs. You are always watching me. You are ever casting -innuendos. You cut and pierce me worse than the scythe. That gashed my -body, but you drive your sharp words into my soul.’ - -‘My dear papa, you are mistaken.’ - -‘I am not mistaken. Your looks and words have meaning. Speak out.’ - -‘I accuse you of nothing, darling papa, but of being perhaps just a -little unjust to me.’ - -She soon saw that her presence was irritating him, her protestations -unavailing to disabuse his mind of the prejudice that had taken hold of -it, and so, with a sigh, she left him. - -Jane Welsh did not return all day. This was strange. She had promised -Barbara to return the first thing in the morning. She was to sleep in -Tavistock, where she had a sister, married. - -Barbara went about her work, but with abstracted mind, and without her -usual energy. - -She was not quite satisfied. She tried to believe in Jasper’s -innocence, and yet doubts would rise in her mind in spite of her -efforts to keep them under. - -Whom had Eve met on the Raven Rock? Jasper had denied that he was the -person: who, then, could it have been? The only other conceivable -person was Mr. Coyshe, and Barbara at once dismissed that idea. Eve -would never make a mystery of meeting Doctor Squash, as she called him. - -At last, as evening drew on, Jane arrived. Barbara met her at the door -and remonstrated with her. - -‘Please, miss, I could not help myself. I found Joseph Woodman last -night, and he said he must send for the warders to identify the -prisoner. Then, miss, he said I was to wait till he had got the warders -and some constables, and when they was ready to come on I might come -too, but not before. I slept at my sister’s last night.’ - -‘Where are the men now?’ - -‘They are about the house—some behind hedges, some in the wood, some on -the down.’ - -Barbara shuddered. - -‘Please miss, they have guns. And, miss, I were to come on and tell the -master that all was ready, and if he would let them know where the man -was they’d trap him.’ - -‘There is no man here but Mr. Babb.’ - -Jane’s face fell. - -‘Lawk, miss! If Joseph thought us had been making games of he, I -believe he’d never marry me—and after going to a Love Feast with him, -too! ‘Twould be serious that, surely.’ - -‘Joseph has taken a long time coming.’ - -‘Joseph takes things leisurely, miss—’tis his nature. Us have been -courting time out o’ mind; and, please, miss, if the man were here, -then the master was to give the signal by pulling the alarm-bell. Then -the police and warders would close in on the house and take him.’ - -Barbara was as pale now as when nearly fainting in the morning. This -was not the old Barbara with hale cheeks, hearty eyes, and ripe lips, -tall and firm, and decided in all her movements. No! This was not at -all the old Barbara. - -‘Well, Miss Jordan, what is troubling you?’ asked Jasper. ‘The house -is surrounded. Men are stationed about it. No one can leave it without -being challenged.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara quickly. ‘By the Abbot’s Well there runs a path -down between laurels, then over a stile into the wood. It is still -possible—will you go?’ - -‘You do not trust me?’ - -‘I wish to—but——’ - -‘Will you do one thing more for me?’ - -She looked timidly at him. - -‘Peal the alarm-bell.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -CONFESSIONS. - - -AS the bell clanged Mr. Jordan came out of his door. He had been -ordered to remain quiet and take no exercise; but now, leaning on his -stick and holding the door jamb, he came forth. - -‘What is this?’ he asked, and Jasper put his hand to the rope to arrest -the upward cast. ‘Why are you ringing, Barbara? Who told you to do so?’ - -‘I bade her ring,’ said Jasper, ‘to call these,’ he pointed to the door. - -Several constables were visible; foremost came Joseph and a prison -warder. - -‘Take him!’ cried Mr. Jordan: ‘arrest the fellow. Here he is—he is -unarmed.’ - -‘What! Mr. Jasper!’ asked Joseph. Among the servants and labourers the -young steward was only known as Mr. Jasper. ‘Why, sir, this is—this -is—Mr. Jasper!’ - -‘This is the man,’ said Ignatius Jordan, clinging to the door-jamb and -pointing excitedly with his stick,—’this is the man who robbed his own -father of money that was mine. This is the man who was locked up in -jail and broke out, and, by the mercy and justice of Heaven, was cast -at my door.’ - -‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said Joseph, ‘I don’t understand. This is -your steward, Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘Take him, handcuff him before my eyes. This is the fellow you have -been in search of; I deliver him up.’ - -‘But, sir,’ said the warder, ‘you are wrong. This is not our escaped -convict.’ - -‘He is, I tell you I know he is.’ - -‘I am sorry to differ from you, sir, but this is not he. I know which -is which. Why, this chap’s hair have never been cut. If he’d been with -us he’d have a head like a mole’s back.’ - -‘Not he!’ cried Mr. Jordan frantically. ‘I say to you this is Jasper -Babb.’ - -‘Well, sir,’ said the warder, ‘sorry to differ, sir, but our man ain’t -Jasper at all—he’s Martin.’ - -Then Joseph turned his light blue eyes round in quest of Jane. ‘I’ll -roast her! I’ll eat her,’ he muttered, ‘at the next Love Feast.’ - -The men went away much disappointed, grumbling, swearing, ill-appeased -by a glass of cider each; Jane sulked in the kitchen, and said to -Barbara, ‘This day month, please, miss.’ - -Mr. Jordan, confounded, disappointed, crept back to his room and cast -himself on his bed. - -The only person in the house who could have helped them out of their -disappointment was Eve, who knew something of the story of Martin, and -knew, moreover, or strongly suspected, that he was not very far off. -But no one thought of consulting Eve. - -When all the party of constables was gone, Barbara stood in the garden, -and Jasper came to her. - -‘You will tell me all now?’ she said, looking at him with eyes full of -thankfulness and trust. - -‘Yes, Miss Jordan, everything. It is due to you. May I sit here by you -on the garden seat?’ - -She seated herself, with a smile, and made room for him, drawing her -skirts to her. - -The ten-week stocks, purple and white, in a bed under the window filled -the air with perfume; but a sweeter perfume than ten-week stocks, to -Barbara, charged the atmosphere—the perfume of perfect confidence. Was -Barbara plain? Who could think that must have no love for beauty of -expression. She had none of her sister’s loveliness, but then Eve had -none of hers. Each had a charm of her own,—Eve the charm of exquisite -physical perfection, Barbara that of intelligence and sweet faith -and complete self-devotion streaming out of eye and mouth—indeed, out -of every feature. Which is lovelier—the lantern, or the light within? -There was little of soul and character in frivolous Eve. - -When Jasper seated himself beside Miss Jordan neither spoke for full -ten minutes. She folded her hands on her lap. Perhaps their souls were, -like the ten-week stocks, exhaling sweetness. - -‘Dear Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, ‘how pleasantly the thrushes are -singing!’ - -‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘but I want to hear your story—I can always listen -to the thrushes.’ - -He was silent after this for several minutes. She did not further press -him. She knew he would tell her all when he had rallied his courage to -do so. They heard Eve upstairs in her room lightly singing a favourite -air from ‘Don Giovanni.’ - -‘It is due to you,’ said Jasper at last. ‘I will hide nothing from you, -and I know your kind heart will bear with me if I am somewhat long.’ - -She looked round, smiled, just raised her fingers on her lap and let -them fall again. - -When Jasper saw that smile he thought he had never seen a sweeter -sight. And yet people said that Barbara was plain! - -‘Miss Jordan, as you have heard, my brother Martin took the money. Poor -Martin! Poor, dear Martin! His is a broken life, and it was so full of -promise!’ - -‘Did you love Martin very dearly?’ - -‘I do love him dearly. I have pitied him so deeply. He has had a hard -childhood. I will tell you all, and your good kind soul will pity, not -condemn him. You have no conception what a bright handsome lad he was. -I love to think of him as he was—guileless, brimming with spirits. -Unfortunately for us, our father had the idea that he could mould -his children’s character into whatever shape he desired, and he had -resolved to make of Martin a Baptist minister, so he began to write on -his tender heart the hard tenets of Calvinism, with an iron pen dipped -in gall. When my brother and I played together we were happy—happy as -butterflies in the sun. When we heard our father’s voice or saw him, -we ran away and hid behind bushes. He interfered with our pursuits, he -sneered at our musical tastes, he tried to stop our practising on the -violin. We were overburdened with religion, had texts rammed into us as -they ram groats down the throats of Strasburg geese. Our livers became -diseased like these same geese—our moral livers. Poor Martin could -least endure this education: it drove him desperate. He did what was -wrong through sheer provocation. By nature he is good. He has a high -spirit, and that led him into revolt.’ - -‘I have seen your brother Martin,’ said Barbara. ‘When you were brought -insensible to this house he was with you.’ - -‘What did you think of him?’ asked Jasper, with pride in his tone. - -‘I did not see his face, he never removed his hat.’ - -‘Has he not a pleasant voice! and he is so grand and generous in his -demeanour!’ - -Barbara said nothing. Jasper waited, expecting some word of praise. - -‘Tell me candidly what you thought of him,’ said Jasper. - -‘I do not like to do so. I did form an opinion of him, but—it was not -favourable.’ - -‘You saw him for too short a time to be able to judge,’ said the young -man. ‘It never does to condemn a man off-hand without knowing his -circumstances. Do you know, Miss Jordan, that saying of St. Paul about -premature judgments? He bids us not judge men, for the Great Day will -reveal the secrets of all hearts, and then—what is his conclusion? “All -men will be covered with confusion and be condemned of men and angels”? -Not so—”Then shall every man have praise of the Lord.” Their motives -will show better than their deeds.’ - -‘How sweetly the thrushes are singing!’ said Barbara now; then—’So also -Eve may be misunderstood.’ - -‘Oh, Miss Jordan! when I consider what Martin might have become in -better hands, with more gentle and sympathetic treatment, it makes my -heart bleed. I assure you my boyhood was spent in battling with the -fatal influences that surrounded him. At last matters came to a head. -Our father wanted to send Martin away to be trained for a preacher, -and Martin took the journey money provided him, and joined a company -of players. He had a good voice, and had been fairly taught to sing. -Whether he had any dramatic talent I can hardly say. After an absence -of a twelvemonth or more he returned. He was out of his place, and -professed penitence. I dare say he really was sorry. He remained a -while at home, but could not get on with our father, who was determined -to have his way with Martin, and Martin was equally resolved not to -become a Dissenting minister. To me it was amazing that my father -should persevere, because it was obvious that Martin had no vocation -for the pastorate; but my father is a determined man. Having made up -his mind that Martin was to be a preacher, he would not be moved from -it. In our village a couple of young men resolved to go to America. -They were friends of Martin, and persuaded him to join them. He -asked my father to give him a fit-out and let him go. But no—the old -gentleman was not to be turned from his purpose. Then a temptation came -in poor Martin’s way, and he yielded to it in a thoughtless moment, or, -perhaps, when greatly excited by an altercation with his father. He -took the money and ran away.’ - -‘He did not go to America?’ - -‘No, Miss Jordan. He rejoined the same dramatic company with which he -had been connected before. That was how he was caught.’ - -‘And the money?’ - -‘Some of it was recovered, but what he had done with most of it no one -knows; the poor thriftless lad least of all. I dare say he gave away -pounds right and left to all who made out a case of need to him.’ - -Then these two, sitting in the garden perfumed with stocks, heard Eve -calling Barbara. - -‘It is nothing,’ said Barbara; ‘Eve is tired of polishing her spangles, -and so wants me. I cannot go to her now: I must hear the end of your -story.’ - -‘I was on my way to this place,’ Jasper continued, ‘when I had to -pass through Prince’s Town. I found my other brother there, Walter, -who is also devoted to our poor Martin; Walter had found means of -communicating with his brother, and had contrived plans of escape. He -had a horse in readiness, and one day, when the prisoners were cutting -turf on the moor, his comrades built a turf-stack round Martin, and -the warders did not discover that he was missing till he had made off. -Walter persuaded me to remain a day or two in the place to assist in -carrying out the escape, which was successfully executed. We got away -off Dartmoor, avoided Tavistock, and lost ourselves on these downs, but -were making for the Tamar, that we might cross into Cornwall by bridge -or ferry, or by swimming our horses; and then we thought to reach -Polperro and send Martin out of the kingdom in any ship that sailed.’ - -‘Why did you not tell me this at once, when you came to our house?’ -asked Barbara, with a little of her old sharpness. - -‘Because I did not know you then, Miss Jordan; I could not be sure that -you might be trusted.’ - -She shook her head. ‘Oh, Mr. Jasper! I am not trustworthy. I did betray -what I believed to be your secret.’ - -‘Your very trustiness made you a traitor,’ he answered courteously. -‘Your first duty was to your sister.’ - -‘Why did you allow me to suppose that you were the criminal?’ - -‘You had found the prison clothes, and at first I sought to screen my -brother. I did not know where Martin was; I wished to give him ample -time for escape by diverting suspicion to myself.’ - -‘But afterwards? You ought, later, to have undeceived me,’ she said, -with a shake in her voice, and a little accent of reproach. - -‘I shrank from doing that. I thought when you visited Buckfastleigh you -would have found out the whole story; but my father was reticent, and -you came away without having learned the truth. Perhaps it was pride, -perhaps a lingering uneasiness about Martin, perhaps I felt that I -could not tell of my dear brother’s fall and disgrace. You were cold, -and kept me at a distance——’ - -Then, greatly agitated, Barbara started up. - -‘Oh, Mr. Jasper!’ she said with quivering voice, ‘what cruel words I -have spoken to you—to you so generous, so true, so self-sacrificing! -You never can forgive me; and yet from the depth of my heart I desire -your pardon. Oh, Jasper! Mr.’—a sob broke the thread of her words—’Mr. -Jasper, when you were ill and unconscious, I studied your face hour -after hour, trying to read the evil story of your life there, and all I -read was pure, and noble, and true. How can I make you amends for the -wrong I have done you!’ - -As she stood, humbled, with heaving bosom and throat choking—Eve came -with skips and laugh along the gravel walk. ‘I have found you!’ she -exclaimed, and clapped her hands. - -‘And I—and I——’ gasped Barbara—’I have found how I may reward the best -of men. There! there!’ she said, clasping Eve’s hand and drawing her -towards Jasper. ‘Take her! I have stood between you too long; but, on -my honour, only because I thought you unworthy of her.’ - -She put Eve’s hand in that of Jasper, then before either had recovered -from the surprise occasioned by her words and action, she walked back -into the house, gravely, with erect head, dignified as ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII. - -THE PIPE OF PEACE. - - -BARBARA went to her room. She ran up the stairs: her stateliness was -gone when she was out of sight. She bolted her door, threw herself on -her knees beside her bed, and buried her face in the counterpane. - -‘I am so happy!’ she said; but her happiness can hardly have been -complete, for the bed vibrated under her weight—shook so much that it -shook down a bunch of crimson carnations she had stuck under a sacred -picture at the head of the bed, and the red flowers fell about her dark -hair, and strewed themselves on the counterpane round her head. She did -not see them. She did not feel them. - -If she had been really and thoroughly happy when at last she rose from -her knees, her cheeks would not have shone with tears, nor would her -handkerchief have been so wet that she hung it out of her window to dry -it, and took another from her drawer. - -Then she went to her glass and brushed her hair, which was somewhat -ruffled, and she dipped her face in the basin. - -After that she was more herself. She unlocked her desk and from it took -a small box tied round with red ribbon. Within this box was a shagreen -case, and in this case a handsome rosewood pipe, mounted in silver. - -This pipe had belonged to her uncle, and it was one of the little items -that had come to her. Indeed, in the division of family relics, she -had chosen this. Her cousins had teased her, and asked whether it was -intended for her future husband. She had made no other reply than -that she fancied it, and so she had kept it. When she selected it, she -had thought of Jasper. He smoked occasionally. Possibly, she thought -she might some day give it him, when he had proved himself to be truly -repentant. - -Now he was clear from all guilt, she must make him the present—a token -of complete reconciliation. She dusted the pretty bowl with her clean -pocket-handkerchief, and looked for the lion and head to make sure that -the mounting was real silver. Then she took another look at herself in -the glass, and came downstairs, carrying the calumet of peace enclosed -in its case. - -She found Jasper sitting with Eve on the bench where she had left them. -They at once made way for her. He rose, and refused to sit till she had -taken his place. - -‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said, and she had regained entire self-command, ‘this -is a proud and happy day for all of us—for you, for Eve, and for me. I -have been revolving in my mind how to mark it and what memorial of it -to give to you as a pledge of peace established, misunderstandings done -away. I have been turning over my desk as well as my mind, and have -found what is suitable. My uncle won this at a shooting-match. He was a -first-rate shot.’ - -‘And the prize,’ said Jasper, ‘has fallen into hands that make very bad -shots.’ - -‘What do you mean? Oh!’ Barbara laughed and coloured. ‘You led me into -that mistake about yourself.’ - -‘This is the bad shot I mean,’ said Jasper: ‘you have brought Miss Eve -here to me, and neither does Eve want me, nor do I her.’ - -Barbara opened her eyes very wide. ‘Have you quarrelled?’ she inquired, -turning to see the faces of Jasper and her sister. Both were smiling -with a malicious humour. - -‘Not at all. We are excellent friends.’ - -‘You do not love Eve?’ - -‘I like Eve, I love someone else.’ - -The colour rushed into Barbara’s face, and then as suddenly deserted -it. What did he mean? A sensation of vast happiness overspread her, and -then ebbed away. Perhaps he loved someone at Buckfastleigh. She, plain, -downright Barbara—what was she for such a man as Jasper had approved -himself? She quickly recovered herself, and said, ‘We were talking -about the pipe.’ - -‘Quite so,’ answered Jasper. ‘Let us return to the pipe. You give it -me—your uncle’s prize pipe?’ - -‘Yes, heartily. I have kept it in my desk unused, as it has been -preserved since my uncle’s death; but you must use it; and I hope the -tobacco will taste nice through it.’ - -‘Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, ‘you have shown me such high honour, that I -feel bound to honour the gift in a special manner. I can only worthily -do so by promising to smoke out of no other pipe so long as this -remains entire, and should an accident befall it, to smoke out of no -other not replaced by your kind self.’ - -Eve clapped her hands. - -‘A rash promise,’ said Barbara. ‘You are at liberty to recall it. If -I were to die, and the pipe were broken, you would be bound to abjure -smoking.’ - -‘If you were to die, dear Miss Jordan, I should bury the pipe in your -grave, and something far more precious than that.’ - -‘What?’ - -‘Can you ask?’ He looked her in the eyes, and again her colour came, -deep as the carnations that had strewed her head. - -‘There, there!’ he said, ‘we will not talk of graves, and broken pipes, -and buried hearts; we will get the pipe to work at once, if the ladies -do not object.’ - -‘I will run for the tinder-box,’ said Eve eagerly. - -‘I have my amadou and steel with me, and tobacco,’ Jasper observed; -‘and mind, Miss Barbara is to consecrate the pipe for ever by drawing -out of it the first whiff of smoke.’ - -Barbara laughed. She would do that. Her heart was wonderfully light, -and clear of clouds as that sweet still evening sky. - -The pipe was loaded; Eve ran off to the kitchen to fetch a stick out -of the fire with glowing end, because, she said, ‘she did not like the -smell of the burning amadou.’ - -Jasper handed the pipe to Barbara, who, with an effort to be demure, -took it. - -‘Are you ready?’ asked Jasper, who was whirling the stick, making a -fiery ring in the air. - -Barbara had put the pipe between her lips, precisely in the middle of -her mouth. - -‘No, that will not do,’ said the young man; ‘put the pipe in the side -of your mouth. Where it is now I cannot light it without burning the -tip of your nose.’ - -Barbara put her little finger into the bowl to assure herself that it -was full. Eve was on her knees at her sister’s feet, her elbows on her -lap, looking up amused and delighted. Barbara kept her neck and back -erect, and her chin high in the air. A smile was on her face, but no -tremor in her lip. Eve burst into a fit of laughter. ‘Oh, Bab, you look -so unspeakably droll!’ But Barbara did not laugh and let go the pipe. -Her hands were down on the bench, one on each side of her. She might -have been sitting in a dentist’s chair to have a tooth drawn. She was a -little afraid of the consequences; nevertheless, she had undertaken to -smoke, and smoke she would—one whiff, no more. - -‘Ready?’ asked Jasper. - -She could not answer, because her lips grasped the pipe with all the -muscular force of which they were capable. She replied by gravely and -slowly bowing her head. - -‘This is our calumet of peace, is it not, Miss Jordan? A lasting peace -never to be broken—never?’ - -She replied again only by a serious bow, head and pipe going down and -coming up again. - -‘Ready?’ Jasper brought the red-hot coal in contact with the tobacco -in the bowl. The glow kindled Barbara’s face. She drew a long, a -conscientiously long, breath. Then her brows went up in query. - -‘Is it alight?’ asked Eve, interpreting the question. - -‘Wait a moment——Yes,’ answered Jasper. - -Then a long spiral of white smoke, like a jet of steam from a kettle -that is boiling, issued from Barbara’s lips, and rose in a perfect -white ring. Her eyes followed the ring. - -At that moment—bang! and again—bang!—the discharge of firearms. - -The pipe fell into her lap. - -‘What is that?’ asked Eve, springing to her feet. They all hurried out -of the garden, and stood in front of the house, looking up and down the -lane. - -‘Stay here and I will see,’ said Jasper. ‘There may be poachers near.’ - -‘In pity do not leave us, or I shall die of fear,’ cried Eve. - -The darkness had deepened. A few stars were visible. Voices were -audible, and the tread of men in the lane. Then human figures were -visible. It was too dark at first to distinguish who they were, and the -suspense was great. - -As, however, they drew nearer, Jasper and the girls saw that the party -consisted of Joseph, the warder, and a couple of constables, leading a -prisoner. - -‘We have got him,’ said Joseph Woodman, ‘the right man at last.’ - -‘Whom have you got?’ asked Barbara. - -‘Whom!—why, the escaped felon, Martin Babb.’ - -A cry. Eve had fainted. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII. - -TAKEN! - - -WE must go back in time, something like an hour and a half or two -hours, and follow the police and warders after they left Morwell, to -understand how it happened that Martin fell into their hands. They had -retired sulky and grumbling. They had been brought a long way, the two -warders a very long way, for nothing. When they reached the down, one -of the warders observed that he was darned if he had not turned his -ankle on the rough stones of the lane. The other said he reckoned they -had been shabbily treated, and it was not his ankle but his stomach had -been turned by a glass of cider sent down into emptiness. Some cold -beef and bread was what he wanted. Whereat he was snapped at by the -other, who advised him to kill one of the bullocks on the moor and make -his meal on that. - -‘Hearken,’ said Joseph; ‘brothers, an idea has struck me. We have not -captured the man, and so we shan’t have the reward.’ - -‘Has it taken you half an hour to discover that?’ - -‘Yes,’ answered Joseph simply. ‘Thinking and digesting are much the -same. I ain’t a caterpillar that can eat and digest at once.’ - -‘I wish I’d had another glass of cider,’ said one of the constables, -‘but these folk seemed in a mighty haste to get rid of us.’ - -‘There is the “Hare and Hounds” at Goatadon,’ said Joseph. - -‘That is a long bit out of the road,’ remonstrated the constable. - -‘What is time to us police!’ answered Joseph. ‘It is made to be killed, -like a flea.’ - -‘And hops away as fast,’ said another. - -‘Let us get back to Tavistock,’ said a warder. - -‘Oh, if you wish it,’ answered Joseph; ‘only it do seem a cruel pity.’ - -‘What is a pity?’ - -‘Why, that you should ha’ come so far and not seen the greatest wonder -of the world.’ - -‘What may that be?’ - -‘The fat woman,’ answered Joseph Woodman. ‘The landlady of the “Hare -and Hounds.” You might as well go to Egypt and not see the pyramids, or -to Rome and not see the Pope, or to London and not see the Tower.’ - -‘I don’t make any account of fat women,’ said the warder, who had -turned his ankle. - -‘But this,’ argued Joseph, ‘is a regular marvel. She’s the fattest -woman out of a caravan—I believe the fattest in England; I dare say the -very fattest in the known world. What there be in the stars I can’t -say.’ - -‘Now,’ said the warder, who had turned his stomach, ‘what do _you_ call -fat?’ He was in a captious mood. - -‘What do I call fat?’ repeated Joseph; ‘why, that woman. Brother, if -you and I were to stretch our arms at the farthest, taking hold of each -other with one hand, we couldn’t compass her and take hold with the -other.’ - -‘I don’t believe it,’ said the warder emphatically. - -‘’Tain’t possible a mortal could be so big,’ said the other warder. - -‘I swear it,’ said Joseph with great earnestness. - -‘There is never a woman in the world,’ said the warder with the bad -ankle, ‘whose waist I couldn’t encircle, and I’ve tried lots.’ - -‘But I tell you this woman is out of the common altogether.’ - -‘Have you ever tried?’ sneered the warder with the bad stomach. - -‘No, but I’ve measured her with my eye.’ - -‘The eye is easy deceived as to distances and dimensions. Why, Lord -bless you! I’ve seen in a fog a sheep on the moor look as big as a -hippopotamus.’ - -‘But the landlady is not on the moor nor in a fog,’ persisted Joseph. -‘I bet you half-a-guinea, laid out in drink, that ‘tis as I say.’ - -‘Done!’ said both warders. ‘Done!’ said the constables, and turning to -their right, they went off to the ‘Hare and Hounds,’ two miles out of -their way, to see the fat woman and test her dimensions. - -Now this change in the destination of the party led to the capture of -Martin, and to the wounding of the warder who complained of his stomach. - -The party reached the little tavern—a poor country inn built where -roads crossed—a wretched house, tarred over its stone face as -protection against the driving rains. They entered, and the hostess -cheerfully consented to having her girth tested. She was accustomed to -it. Her fatness was part of her stock-in-trade: it drew customers to -the ‘Hare and Hounds’ who otherwise would have gone on to Beer Alston, -where was a pretty and pert maid. - -Whilst the officers were refreshing themselves, and one warder had -removed his boot to examine his ankle, the door of the room where they -sat was opened and Martin came in, followed by Watt. His eyes were -dazzled, as the room was strongly lighted, and he did not at first -observe who were eating and drinking there. It was in this lonely inn -that he and Walter were staying and believed themselves quite safe. A -few miners were the only persons they met there. - -As Martin stood in the doorway looking at the party, whilst his eyes -accustomed themselves to the light, one of the warders started up. -‘That is he! Take him! Our man!’ - -Instantly all sprang to their feet except Joseph, who was leisurely in -all his movements, and the warder with bare foot, without considering -fully what he did, threw his boot at Martin’s head. - -Martin turned at once and ran, and the men dashed out of the inn after -him, both warders catching up their guns, and he who was bootless -running, forgetful of his ankle, with bare foot. - -The night was light enough for Martin to be seen, with the boy running -beside him, across the moor. The fires were still flickering and -glowing; the gorse had been burnt and so no bushes could be utilised as -a screen. His only chance of escape was to reach the woods, and he ran -for Morwell. - -But Martin, knowing that there were firearms among his pursuers, dared -not run in a direct line; he swerved from side to side, and dodged, -to make it difficult for them to take aim. This gave great facilities -to the warder who had both boots on, and who was a wiry, long-legged -fellow, to gain on Martin. - -‘Halt!’ shouted he, ‘halt, or I fire!’ - -Then Martin turned abruptly and discharged a pistol at him. The man -staggered, but before he fell he fired at Martin, but missed. - -Almost immediately Martin saw some black figures in front of him, and -stood, hesitating what to do. The figures were those of boys who were -spreading the fires among the furze bushes, but he thought that his -course was intercepted by his pursuers. Before he had decided where to -run he was surrounded and disarmed. - -The warder was so seriously hurt that he was at once placed on a -gate and carried on the shoulders of four of the constables to Beer -Alston, to be examined by Mr. Coyshe and the ball extracted. This left -only three to guard the prisoner, one of whom was the warder who had -sprained his ankle, and had been running with that foot bare, and who -was now not in a condition to go much farther. - -‘There is nothing for it,’ said Joseph, who was highly elated, ‘but -for us to go on to Morwell. We must lock the chap up there. In that -old house there are scores of strong places where the monks were -imprisoned. To-morrow we can take him to Tavistock.’ Joseph did not -say that Jane Welsh was at Morwell; this consideration, doubtless, had -something to do with determining the arrangement. On reaching Morwell, -which they did almost at once, for Martin had been captured on the down -near the entrance to the lane, the first inquiry was for a safe place -where the prisoner might be bestowed. - -Jane, hearing the noise, and, above all, the loved voice of Joseph, ran -out. - -‘Jane,’ said the policeman, ‘where can we lock the rascal up for the -night?’ - -She considered for a moment, and then suggested the corn-chamber. That -was over the cellar, the walls lined with slate, and the floor also of -slate. It had a stout oak door studded with nails, and access was had -to it from the quadrangle, up a flight of stone steps. There was no -window to it. ‘I’ll go ask Miss Barbara for the key,’ she said. ‘There -is nothing in it now but some old onions. But’—she paused—’if he be -locked up there all night, he’ll smell awful of onions in the morning.’ - -Reassured that this was of no importance, Jane went to her mistress for -the key. Barbara came out and listened to the arrangement, to which -she gave her consent, coldly. The warder could now only limp. She was -shocked to hear of the other having been shot. - -A lack of hospitality had been shown when the constables and warders -came first, through inadvertence, not intentionally. Now that they -desired to remain the night at Morwell and guard there the prisoner, -Barbara gave orders that they should be made comfortable in the -hall. One would have to keep guard outside the door where Martin -was confined, the other two would spend the night in the hall, the -window of which commanded the court and the stairs that led to the -corn-chamber. ‘I won’t have the men in the kitchen,’ said Barbara, ‘or -the maids will lose their heads and nothing will be done.’ Besides, -the kitchen was out of the way of the corn-chamber. - -‘We shall want the key of the corn-store,’ said Joseph, ‘if we may have -it, miss.’ - -‘Why not stow the fellow in the cellar?’ asked a constable. - -‘For two reasons,’ answered Joseph. ‘First, because he would drink the -cider; and second, because—no offence meant, miss—we hope that the -maids’ll be going to and fro to the cellar with the pitcher pretty -often.’ - -Joseph was courting the maid of the house, and therefore thought it -well to hint to Barbara what was expected of the house to show that it -was free and open. - -The corn-room was unlocked, a light obtained, and it was thoroughly -explored. It was floored with large slabs of slate, and the walls -were lined six feet high with slate, as a protection against rats and -mice. Joseph progged the walls above that. All sound, not a window. -He examined the door: it was of two-inch oak plank, and the hinges of -stout iron. In the corner of the room was a heap of onions that had -not been used the preceding winter. A bundle of straw was procured and -thrown down. - -‘Lie there, you dog, you murderous dog!’ said one of the men, casting -Martin from him. ‘Move at your peril!’ - -‘Ah!’ said the lame warder, ‘I only wish you would make another attempt -to escape that I might give you a leaden breakfast.’ He limped badly. -In running he had cut his bare foot and it bled, and he had trodden on -the prickles of the gorse, which had made it very painful. - -‘There’s a heap of onions for your pillow,’ said Joseph. ‘Folks say -they are mighty helpful to sleep—’ this was spoken satirically; then -with a moral air—’But, sure enough, there’s no sleeping, even on an -onion pillow, without a good conscience.’ - -As the men were to spend the night without sleep—one out of doors, -to be relieved guard by the other, the lame warder alone excused the -duty, as he was unable to walk—Barbara ordered a fire to be lighted in -the great hall. The nights were not cold, but damp; the sky was clear, -and the dew fell heavily. It would, moreover, be cheerful for the men -to sit over a wood fire through the long night, and take naps by it if -they so liked. Supper was produced and laid on the oak table by Jane, -who ogled Joseph every time she entered and left the hall. - -She placed a jug on the table. Joseph went after her. - -‘You are a dear maid,’ he said, ‘but one jug don’t go far. You must -mind the character of the house and maintain it. I see cold mutton. It -is good, but chops are better. This ain’t an inn. It’s a gentleman’s -house. I see cheese. Ain’t there anywhere a tart and cream? Mr. Jordan -is not a farmer: he’s a squire. I’d not have it said of me I was -courting a young person in an inferior situation.’ - -The fire was made up with a faggot. It blazed merrily. Joseph sat -before it with his legs outspread, smiling at the flames; he had his -hands on his knees. After having run hard and got hot he felt chilled, -and the fire was grateful. Moreover, his hint had been taken. Two jugs -stood on the table, and hot chops and potatoes had been served. He had -eaten well, he had drunk well. All at once he laughed. - -‘What is the joke, Joe?’ - -‘I’ve an idea, brother. If t’other warder dies I shall not have to pay -the half-guinea because I lost my bet. He was so confounded long in the -arm. That will be prime! And—we shall share the reward without him! -Beautiful!’ - -‘Umph! Has it taken you all this time to find that out? I saw it the -moment the shot struck. That’s why I ran on with a bad foot.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX. - -GONE! - - -NEITHER Jasper, Barbara, nor Eve appeared. Mr. Jordan was excited, and -had to be told what had taken place, and this had to be done by Jasper. -Barbara was with her sister. Eve had recovered, and had confessed -everything. Now all was clear to the eyes of Barbara. The meeting on -the Raven Rock had been the one inexplicable point, and now that was -explained. Eve hid nothing from her sister; she told her about the -first meeting with Martin, his taking the ring, then about the giving -of the turquoise ring, finally about the meeting on the Rock. The story -was disquieting. Eve had been very foolish. The only satisfaction to -Barbara was the thought that the cause of uneasiness was removed, and -about to be put beyond the power of doing further mischief. Eve would -never see Martin again. She had seen so little of him that he could -have produced on her heart but a light and transient impression. The -romance of the affair had been the main charm with Eve. - -When Jasper left the squire’s room, after a scene that had been -painful, Barbara came to him and said, ‘I know everything now. Eve met -your brother Martin on the Raven Rock. He has been trying to win her -affections. In this also you have been wrongly accused by me.’ Then -with a faint laugh, but with a timid entreating look, ‘I can do no more -than confess now, I have such a heavy burden of amends to make.’ - -‘Will it be a burden, Barbara?’ - -She put her hand lightly on his arm. - -‘No, Jasper—a delight.’ - -He stooped and kissed her hand. Little or nothing had passed between -them, yet they understood each other. - -‘Hist! for shame!’ said a sharp voice through the garden window. She -looked and saw the queer face of Watt. - -‘That is too cruel, Jasp—love-making when our poor Martin is in danger! -I did not expect it of you.’ - -Barbara was confused. The boy’s face could ill be discerned, as there -was no candle in the room, and all the light, such as there was—a -silvery summer twilight—flowed in at the window, and was intercepted by -his head. - -‘Selfish, Jasp! and you, miss—if you are going to enter the family, you -should begin to consider other members than Jasper,’ continued the boy. -All his usual mockery was gone from his voice, which expressed alarm -and anxiety. ‘There lies poor Martin in a stone box, on a little straw, -without a mouthful, and his keepers are given what they like!’ - -‘Oh, Jasper!’ said Barbara with a start, ‘I am so ashamed of myself. I -forgot to provide for him.’ - -‘You have not considered, I presume, what will become of poor Martin. -In self-defence he shot at a warder, and whether he wounded or killed -him I cannot say. Poor Martin! Seven years will be spread into -fourteen, perhaps twenty-one. What will he be when he comes out of -prison! What shall I do all these years without him!’ - -‘Walter,’ said Jasper, going to the window, and speaking in a subdued -voice, ‘what can be done? I am sorry enough for him, but I can do -nothing.’ - -‘Oh, you will not try.’ - -‘Tell me, what can I do?’ - -‘There! let _her_,’ he pointed to Barbara, ‘let her come over here and -speak with me. Everything now depends on her.’ - -‘On me!’ exclaimed Barbara. - -‘Ah, on you. But do not shout. I can hear if you whisper. Miss, that -poor fellow in the stone box is Jasper’s brother. If you care at all -for Jasper, you will not interfere. I do not ask you to move a finger -to help Martin: I ask you only not to stand in others’ way.’ - -‘What do you mean?’ - -‘Go into the hall, you and Jasper, instead of standing sighing and -billing here. Allow me to be there also. There are two more men -arrived—two of those who carried the winged snipe away. That makes four -inside and one outside; but one is lamed and without his boot. Feed -them all well. Don’t spare cider; and give them spirits-and-water. Help -to amuse them.’ - -‘For what end?’ - -‘That is no concern of yours. For what end! Hospitality, the most -ancient of virtues. Above all, do not interfere with the other one.’ - -‘What other one?’ - -‘You know—Miss Eve,’ whispered the boy. ‘Let the maidens in, the -housemaid certainly; she has a sweetheart among them, and the others -will make pickings.’ - -Then, without waiting for an answer, the queer boy ran along the gravel -path and leaped the dwarf wall into the stable yard, which lay at a -lower level. - -‘What does he mean?’ asked Barbara. - -‘He means,’ said Jasper, ‘that he is going to make an attempt to get -poor Martin off.’ - -‘But how can he?’ - -‘That I do not know.’ - -‘And whether we ought to assist in such a venture I do not know,’ said -Barbara thoughtfully. - -‘Nor do I,’ said Jasper; ‘my heart says one thing, my head the other.’ - -‘We will follow our hearts,’ said Barbara vehemently, and caught his -hands and pressed them. ‘Jasper, he is your brother; with me that is -a chief consideration. Come into the hall; we will give the men some -music.’ - -Jasper and Barbara went to the hall, and found that the warder had -his foot bandaged in a chair, and seemed to be in great pain. He was -swearing at the constables who had come from Beer Alston for not having -called at the ‘Hare and Hounds’ on their way for his boot. He tried to -induce one of them to go back for it; but the sight of the fire, the -jugs of cider, the plates heaped with cake, made them unwilling again -to leave the house. - -‘We ain’t a-going without our supper,’ was their retort. ‘You are -comfortable enough here, with plenty to eat and to drink.’ - -‘But,’ complained the man, ‘I can’t go for my boot myself, don’t you -see?’ But see they would not. Jane had forgotten all her duties about -the house in the excitement of having her Joseph there. She had stolen -into the hall, and got her policeman into a corner. - -‘When is it your turn to keep guard, Joe?’ she asked. - -‘Not for another hour,’ he replied. ‘I wish I hadn’t to go out at all.’ - -‘Oh, Joe, I’ll go and keep guard with you!’ - -Also the cook stole in with a bowl and a sponge, and a strong savour of -vinegar. She had come to bathe the warder’s foot, unsolicited, moved -only by a desire to do good, doubtless. Also the under-housemaid’s -beady eyes were visible at the door looking in to see if more fuel were -required for the fire. - -Clearly, there was no need for Barbara to summon her maids. As a dead -camel in the desert attracts all the vultures within a hundred miles, -so the presence of these men in the hall drew to them all the young -women in the house. - -When they saw their mistress enter, they exhibited some hesitation. -Barbara, however, gave them a nod, and more was not needed to encourage -them to stay. - -‘Jane,’ said Barbara, ‘here is the key. Fetch a couple of bottles -of Jamaica rum, or one of rum and one of brandy. Patience,’ to the -under-housemaid, ‘bring hot water, sugar, tumblers, and spoons.’ - -A thrill of delight passed through the hearts of the men, and their -eyes sparkled. - -Then in at the door came the boy with his violin, fiddling, capering, -dancing, making faces. In a moment he sprang on the table, seated -himself, and began to play some of the pretty ‘Don Giovanni’ dance -music. - -He signed to Barbara with his bow, and pointed to the piano in the -parlour, the door of which was open. She understood him and went in, -lit the candles, and took a ‘Don Giovanni’ which her sister had bought, -and practised with Jasper. Then he signed to his brother, and Jasper -also took down his violin, tuned it, and began to play. - -‘Let us bring the piano into the hall,’ said Barbara, and the men -started to fulfil her wish. Four of them conveyed it from the parlour. -At the same time the rum and hot water appeared, the spoons clinked in -the glasses. Patience, the under-housemaid, threw a faggot on the fire. - -‘What is that?’ exclaimed the lame warder, pointing through the window. - -It was only the guard, who had extended his march to the hall and -put his face to the glass to look in at the brew of rum-and-water, -and the comfortable party about the fire. ‘Go back on your beat, you -scoundrel!’ shouted the warder, menacing the constable with his fist. -Then the face disappeared; but every time the sentinel reached the hall -window, he applied his nose to the pane and stared in thirstily at the -grog that steamed and ran down the throats of his comrades, and cursed -the duty that kept him without in the falling dew. His appearance -at intervals at the glass, where the fire and candlelight illumined -his face, was like that of a fish rising to the surface of a pond to -breathe. - -‘Is your time come yet outside, Joe dear?’ whispered Jane. - -‘Hope not,’ growled Joseph, helping himself freely to rum; putting his -hand round the tumbler, so that none might observe how high the spirit -stood in the glass before he added the water. - -‘Oh, Joe duckie, don’t say that. I’ll go and keep you company on the -stone steps: we’ll sit there in the moonlight all alone, as sweet as -anything.’ - -‘You couldn’t ekal this grog’ answered the unromantic Joseph, ‘if you -was ever so sweet. I’ve put in four lumps of double-refined.’ - -‘You’ve a sweet tooth, Joe,’ said Jane. - -‘Shall I bathe your poor suffering foot again?’ asked the cook, casting -languishing eyes at the warder. - -‘By-and-by, when the liquor is exhausted,’ answered the warder. - -‘Would you like a little more hot water to the spirit?’ said Patience, -who was setting—as it is termed in dance phraseology—at the youngest of -the constables. - -‘No, miss, but I’d trouble you for a little more spirit,’ he answered, -‘to qualify the hot water.’ - -Then the scullery-maid, who had also found her way in, blocked the -other constable in the corner, and offered to sugar his rum. He was a -married man, middle-aged, and with a huge disfiguring mole on his nose; -but there was no one else for the damsel to ogle and address, so she -fixed upon him. - -All at once, whilst this by-play was going on, under cover of the -music, the door from the staircase opened, and in sprang Eve, with her -tambourine, dressed in the red-and-yellow costume she had found in the -garret, and wearing her burnished necklace of bezants. Barbara withdrew -her hands from the piano in dismay, and flushed with shame. - -‘Eve!’ she exclaimed, ‘go back! How can you!’ But the boy from the -table beckoned again to her, pointing to the piano, and her fingers; -Eve skipped up to her and whispered, ‘Let me alone, for Jasper’s sake,’ -then bounded into the middle of the hall, and rattled her tambourine -and clinked its jingles. - -The men applauded, and tossed off their rum-and-water; then, having -finished the rum, mixed themselves eagerly hot jorums of brandy. - -The face was at the window, with the nose flat and white against the -glass, like a dab of putty. - -Barbara’s forehead darkened, and she drew her lips together. Her -conscience was not satisfied. She suspected that this behaviour of Eve -was what Walter had alluded to when he begged her not to interfere. -Walter had seen Eve, and planned it with her. Was she right, Barbara -asked herself, in what she was doing to help a criminal to escape? - -The money he had taken was theirs—Eve’s; and if Eve chose to forgive -him and release him from his punishment, why should she object? Martin -was the brother of Jasper, and for Jasper’s sake she must go on with -what she had begun. - -So she put her fingers on the keys again, and at once Watt and Jasper -resumed their instruments. They played the music in ‘Don Giovanni,’ -in the last act, where the banquet is interrupted by the arrival of -the statue. Barbara knew that Eve was dancing alone in the middle of -the floor before these men, before him also who ought to be pacing up -and down in front of the corn-chamber; but she would not turn her head -over her shoulder to look at her, and her brow burnt, and her cheeks, -usually pale, flamed. As for Eve, she was supremely happy; the applause -of the lookers-on encouraged her. Her movements were graceful, her -beauty radiant. She looked like Zerlina on the boards. - -Suddenly the boy dropped his bow, and before anyone could arrest his -hand, or indeed had a suspicion of mischief, he threw a canister of -gunpowder into the blazing fire. Instantly there was an explosion. The -logs were flung about the floor, Eve and the maids screamed, the piano -and violins were hushed, doors were burst open, panes of glass broken -and fell clinking, and every candle was extinguished. Fortunately the -hall floor was of slate. - -The men were the first to recover themselves—all, that is, but the -warder, who shrieked and swore because a red-hot cinder had alighted on -his bad foot. - -The logs were thrust together again upon the hearth, and a flame sprang -up. - -No one was hurt, but in the doorway, white, with wild eyes, stood Mr. -Jordan, signing with his hand, but unable to speak. - -‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ exclaimed Barbara, running to him, ‘do go back -to bed. No one is hurt. We have had a fright, that is all.’ - -‘Fools!’ cried the old man, brandishing his stick. ‘He is gone! I saw -him—he ran past my window.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XL. - -ANOTHER SACRIFICE. - - -WATT was no longer in the hall. Whither he had gone none knew; how he -had gone none knew. The man in the quadrangle was too alarmed by the -glass panes being blown out in his face, to see whether the boy had -passed that way. But, indeed, no one now gave thought to Watt; the men -ran to the corn-chamber to examine it. A lantern was lighted, the door -examined and found to be locked. It was unfastened, and Joseph and the -rest entered. The light penetrated every corner, fell on the straw and -the onion-heap. Martin Babb was not there. - -‘May I be darned!’ exclaimed Joseph, holding the lantern over his head. -‘I looked at the walls, at the floor, at the door: I never thought of -the roof, and it is by the roof he has got away.’ - -Indeed, the corn-chamber was unceiled. Martin, possibly assisted, had -reached the rafters, thence had crept along the roof in the attics, and -had entered the room that belonged to the girls, and descended from the -window by the old Jargonelle pear. - -Then the constables and Joseph turned on the sentinel, and heaped -abuse upon him for not having warned them of what was going on. It was -in vain for him to protest that from the outside he could not detect -what was in process of execution under the roof. Blame must attach to -someone, and he was one against four. - -Their tempers were not the more placable when it was seen that the -bottle of brandy had been upset and was empty, the precious spirit -having expended itself on the floor. - -Then the question was mooted whether the fugitive should not be pursued -at once, but the production by Barbara of another bottle of rum -decided them not to do so, but await the arrival of morning. Suddenly -it occurred to Joseph that the blame attached, not to any of those -present, who had done their utmost, but to the warder who had been -shot, and so had detached two of their number, and had reduced the body -so considerably by this fatality as to incapacitate them from drawing a -cordon round the house and watching it from every side. If that warder -were to die, then the whole blame might be shovelled upon him along -with the earth into his grave. - -The search was recommenced next day, but was ineffectual. In which -direction Martin had gone could not be found. Absolutely no traces of -him could be discovered. - -Presently Mr. Coyshe arrived, in a state of great excitement. He had -attended the wounded man, and had heard an account of the capture; on -his way to Morwell the rumour reached him that the man had broken away -again. Mr. Coyshe had, as he put it, an inquiring mind. He thirsted for -knowledge, whether of scientific or of social interest. Indeed, he took -a lively interest in other people’s affairs. So he came on foot, as -hard as he could walk, to Morwell, to learn all particulars, and at the -same time pay a professional visit to Mr. Jordan. - -Barbara at once asked Mr. Coyshe into the parlour; she wanted to have a -word with him before he saw her father. - -Barbara was very uneasy about Eve, whose frivolity, lack of ballast, -and want—as she feared—of proper self-respect might lead her into -mischief. How could her sister have been so foolish as to dress up and -dance last evening before a parcel of common constables! To Barbara -such conduct was inconceivable. She herself was dignified and stiff -with her inferiors, and would as soon have thought of acting before -them as Eve had done as of jumping over the moon. She did not consider -how her own love and that of her father had fostered caprice and vanity -in the young girl, till she craved for notice and admiration. Barbara -thought over all that Eve had told her: how she had lost her mother’s -ring, how she had received the ring of turquoise, how she had met -Martin on the Rock platform. Every incident proclaimed to her mind the -instability, the lack of self-respect, in her sister. The girl needed -to be watched and put into firmer hands. She and her father had spoiled -her. Now that the mischief was done she saw it. - -What better step could be taken to rectify the mistake than that of -bringing Mr. Coyshe to an engagement with Eve? - -She was a straightforward, even blunt, girl, and when she had an aim in -view went to her work at once. So, without beating about the bush, she -said to the young doctor— - -‘Mr. Coyshe, you did me the honour the other day of confiding to me -your attachment to Eve. I have been considering it, and I want to know -whether you intend at once to speak to her. I told my father your -wishes, and he is, I believe, not indisposed to forward them.’ - -‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the surgeon; ‘I would like above -everything to have the matter settled, but Miss Eve never gives me a -chance of speaking to her alone.’ - -‘She is shy,’ said Barbara; then, thinking that this was not exactly -true, she corrected herself; ‘that is to say—she, as a young girl, -shrinks from what she expects is coming from you. Can you wonder?’ - -‘I don’t see it. I’m not an ogre.’ - -‘Girls have feelings which, perhaps, men cannot comprehend,’ said -Barbara. - -‘I do not wish to be precipitate,’ observed the young surgeon. -‘I’ll take a chair, please, and then I can explain to you fully my -circumstances and my difficulties.’ He suited his action to his word, -and graciously signed to Barbara to sit on the sofa near his chair. -Then he put his hat between his feet, calmly took off his gloves and -threw them into his hat. - -‘I hate precipitation,’ said Mr. Coyshe. ‘Let us thoroughly understand -each other. I am a poor man. Excuse me, Miss Jordan, if I talk in a -practical manner. You are long and clear headed, so—but I need not tell -you that—so am I. We can comprehend each other, and for a moment lay -aside that veil of romance and poetry which invests an engagement.’ - -Barbara bowed. - -‘An atmosphere surrounds a matrimonial alliance; let us puff it away -for a moment and look at the bare facts. Seen from a poetic standpoint, -marriage is the union of two loving hearts, the rapture of two souls -discovering each other. From the sober ground of common sense it means -two loaves of bread a day instead of one, a milliner’s bill at the -end of the year in addition to that of the tailor, two tons of coals -where one had sufficed. I need not tell you, being a prudent person, -that when I am out for the day my fire is not lighted. If I had a wife -of course a fire would have to burn all day. I may almost say that -matrimony means three tons of coal instead of one, and _you_ know how -costly coals come here.’ - -‘But, Mr. Coyshe——’ - -‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I may be plain, but I am truthful. I am putting -matters before you in the way in which I am forced to view them myself. -When an ordinary individual looks on a beautiful woman he sees only her -beauty. I see more; I anatomise her mentally, and follow the bones, -and nerves, and veins, and muscles. So with this lovely matrimonial -prospect. I see its charms, but I see also what lies beneath, the -anatomy, so to speak, and that means increased coal, butcher’s, baker’s -bills, three times the washing, additional milliners’ accounts.’ - -‘You know, Mr. Coyshe,’ said Barbara, a little startled at the way he -put matters, ‘you know that eventually Morwell comes to Eve.’ - -‘My dear Miss Jordan, if a man walks in stocking soles, expecting -his father-in-law’s shoes, he is likely to go limpingly. How am I to -live so long as Mr. Jordan lives? I know I should flourish after his -death—but in the mean time—there is the rub. I’d marry Eve to-morrow -but for the expense.’ - -‘Is there not something sordid——’ began Barbara. - -‘I will not allow you to finish a sentence, Miss Jordan, which your -good sense will reproach you for uttering. I saw at a fair a booth with -outside a picture of a mermaid combing her golden hair, and with the -face of an angel. I paid twopence and went inside, to behold a seal -flopping in a tub of dirty water. All the great events of life—birth, -marriage, death—are idealised by poets, as that disgusting seal was -idealised on the canvas by the artist: horrible things in themselves -but inevitable, and therefore to be faced as well as we may. I need -not have gone in and seen that seal, but I was deluded to do so by the -ideal picture.’ - -‘Surely,’ exclaimed Barbara laughing, ‘you put marriage in a false -light?’ - -‘Not a bit. In almost every case it is as is described, a delusion and -a horrible disenchantment. It shall not be so with me, so I picture it -in all its real features. If you do not understand me the fault lies -with you. Even the blessed sun cannot illumine a room when the panes -of the window are dull. I am a poor man, and a poor man must look at -matters from what you are pleased to speak of as a sordid point of -view. There are plants I have seen suspended in windows said to live on -air. They are all pendulous. Now I am not disposed to become a drooping -plant. Live on air I cannot. There is enough earth in my pot for my own -roots, but for my own alone.’ - -‘I see,’ said Barbara, laughing, but a little irritated. ‘You are ready -enough to marry, but have not the means on which to marry.’ - -‘Exactly,’ answered Mr. Coyshe. ‘I have a magnificent future before me, -but I am like a man swimming, who sees the land but does not touch as -much as would blacken his nails. Lord bless you!’ said Mr. Coyshe, ‘I -support a wife on what I get at Beer Alston! Lord bless me!’ he stood -up and sat down again, ‘you might as well expect a cock to lay eggs.’ - -Barbara bit her lips. ‘I should not have thought you so practical,’ she -said. - -‘I am forced to be so. It is the fate of poor men to have to count -their coppers. Then there is another matter. If I were married, well, -of course, it is possible that I might be the founder of a happy -family. In the South Sea Islands the natives send their parents -periodically up trees and then shake the trunks. If the old people hold -on they are reprieved, if they fall they are eaten. We eat our parents -in England also, and don’t wait till they are old and leathery. We -begin with them when we are babes, and never leave off till nothing -is left of them to devour. We feed on their energies, consume their -substance, their time, their brains, their hearts piecemeal.’ - -‘Well!’ - -‘Well,’ repeated Mr. Coyshe, ‘if I am to be eaten I must have flesh on -my bones for the coming Coyshes to eat.’ - -‘You need not be alarmed as to the prospect,’ said Barbara gravely. ‘I -have been left a few hundred pounds by my aunt, they bring in about -fifty pounds a year. I will make it over to my sister.’ - -‘You see for yourself,’ said Mr. Coyshe, ‘that Eve is not a young lady -who can be made into a sort of housekeeper. She is too dainty for that. -Turnips may be tossed about, but not apricots.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘I and my sister are quite different.’ - -‘You will not repent of this determination?’ asked Mr. Coyshe. ‘I -suppose it would not be asking you too much just to drop me a letter -with the expression of your intention stated in it? I confess to a -weakness for black and white. The memory is so treacherous, and I find -it very like an adhesive chest plaster—it sticks only on that side -which applies to self.’ - -‘Mr. Coyshe,’ said Barbara, ‘shall we go in and see papa? You shall be -satisfied. My memory will not play me false. My whole heart is wrapped -up in dear Eve, and the great ambition of my life is to see her happy. -Come, then, we will go to papa.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLI. - -ANOTHER MISTAKE. - - -BARBARA saw Mr. Coyshe into her father’s room, and then went upstairs -to Eve, caught her by the arm, and drew her into her own room. Barbara -had now completely made up her mind that her sister was to become -Mrs. Coyshe. Eve was a child, never would be other, never capable of -deciding reasonably for herself. Those who loved her, those who had -care of her must decide for her. Barbara and her father had grievously -erred hitherto in humouring all Eve’s caprices, now they must be -peremptory with her, and arrange for her what was best, and force her -to accept the provision made for her. - -What are love matches but miserable disappointments? Not quite so -bad as pictured by Mr. Coyshe. The reality would not differ from the -ideal as thoroughly as the seal from the painted mermaid; but there -was truth in what he said. A love match was entered into by two young -people who have idealised each other, and before the first week is out -of the honeymoon they find the ideal shattered, and a very prosaic -reality standing in its place. Then follow disappointment, discontent, -rebellion. Far better the foreign system of parents choosing partners -for their children; they are best able to discover the real qualities -of the suitor because they study them dispassionately, and they know -the characters of their daughters. Who can love a child more than a -parent, and therefore who is better qualified to match her suitably? - -So Barbara argued with herself. Certainly Eve must not be left to -select her husband. She was a creature of impulse, without a grain of -common-sense in her whole nature. - -Barbara drew Eve down beside her on the sofa at the foot of her bed, -and put her arm round her waist. Eve was pouting, and had red eyes; for -her sister had scolded her that morning sharply for her conduct the -preceding night, and her father had been excited, and for the first -time in his life had spoken angrily to her, and bidden her cast off and -never resume the costume in which she had dressed and bedizened herself. - -Eve had retired to her room in a sulk, and in a rebellious frame -of mind. She cried and called herself an ill-treated girl, and was -overcome with immense pity for the hardships she had to undergo among -people who could not understand and would not humour her. - -Eve’s lips were screwed up, and her brow as nearly contracted into a -frown as it could be, and her sweet cheeks were kindled with fiery -temper-spots. - -‘Eve dear,’ said Barbara, ‘Mr. Coyshe is come.’ - -Eve made no answer, her lips took another screw, and her brows -contracted a little more. - -‘Eve, he is closeted now with papa, and I know he has come to ask for -the hand of the dearest little girl in the whole world.’ - -‘Stuff!’ said Eve peevishly. - -‘Not stuff at all,’ argued Barbara, ‘nor’—intercepting another -exclamation—’no, dear, nor fiddlesticks. He has been talking to me in -the parlour. He is sincerely attached to you. He is an odd man, and -views things in quite a different way from others, but I think I made -out that he wanted you to be his wife.’ - -‘Barbara,’ said Eve, with great emphasis, ‘nothing in the world would -induce me to submit to be called Mrs. Squash.’ - -‘My dear, if the name is the only objection, I think he will not mind -changing it. Indeed, it is only proper that he should. As he and you -will have Morwell, it is of course right that a Jordan should be here, -and—to please the Duke and you—he will, I feel sure, gladly assume our -name. I agree with you that, though Coyshe is not a bad name, it is not -a pretty one. It lends itself to corruption.’ - -‘Babb is worse,’ said Eve, still sulky. - -‘Yes, darling, Babb is ugly, and it is the pet name you give me, as -short for Barbara. I have often told you that I do not like it.’ - -‘You never said a word against it till Jasper came.’ - -‘Well, dear, I may not have done so. When he did settle here, and we -knew his name, it was not, of course, seemly to call me by it. That is -to say,’ said Barbara, colouring, ‘it led to confusion—in calling for -me, for instance, he might have thought you were addressing him.’ - -‘Not at all,’ said Eve, still filled with a perverse spirit. ‘I never -called him Babb at all, I always called him Jasper.’ Then she took up -her little apron and pulled at the embroidered ends, and twisted and -tortured them into horns. ‘It would be queer, sister, if you were to -marry Jasper, you would become double Babb.’ - -‘Don’t,’ exclaimed Barbara, bridling; ‘this is unworthy of you, Eve; -you are trying to turn your arms against me, when I am attacking you.’ - -‘May I not defend myself?’ - -Then Barbara drew her arm tighter round her sister, kissed her pretty -neck under the delicate shell-like ear, and said, ‘Sweetest! we never -fight. I never would raise a hand against you. I would run a pair of -scissors into my own heart rather than snip a corner off this dear -little ear. There, no more fencing even with wadded foils. We were -talking of Mr. Coyshe.’ - -Eve shrugged her shoulders. - -‘_Revenons à nos moutons_,’ she said, ‘though I cannot say old Coyshe -is a sheep; he strikes me rather as a jackdaw.’ - -‘Old Coyshe! how can you exaggerate so, Eve! He is not more than five -or six-and-twenty.’ - -‘He is wise and learned enough to be regarded as old. I hate wise and -learned men.’ - -‘What is there that you do not hate which is not light and frivolous?’ -asked Barbara a little pettishly. ‘You have no serious interests in -anything.’ - -‘I have no interests in anything here,’ said Eve, ‘because there is -nothing here to interest me. I do not care for turnips and mangold, -and what are the pigs and poultry to me? Can I be enthusiastic over -draining? Can the price of bark make my pulses dance? No, Barbie (Bab -you object to), I am sick of a country life in a poky corner of the -most out-of-the-way county in England except Cornwall. Really, Barbie, -I believe I would marry any man who would take me to London, and -let me go to the theatre and to balls, and concerts and shows. Why, -Barbara! I’d rather travel round the country in a caravan and dance on -a tight-rope than be moped up here in Morwell, an old fusty, mouldering -monk’s cell.’ - -‘My dear Eve!’ - -Barbara was so shocked, she could say no more. - -I am in earnest. Papa is ill, and that makes the place more dull than -ever. Jasper was some fun, he played the violin, and taught me music, -but now you have meddled, and deprived me of that amusement; I am -sick of the monotony here. It is only a shade better than Lanherne -convent, and you know papa took me away from that; I fell ill with the -restraint.’ - -‘You have no restraint here.’ - -‘No—but I have nothing to interest me. I feel always as if I was hungry -for something I could not get. Why should I have “Don Giovanni,” and -“Figaro,” and the “Barber of Seville” on my music-stand, and strum -at them? I want to see them, and hear them alive, acting, singing, -particularly amid lights and scenery, and in proper costume. I cannot -bear this dull existence any longer. If Doctor Squash will take me to a -theatre or an opera I’ll marry him, just for that alone—that is my last -word.’ - -Barbara was accustomed to hear Eve talk extravagantly, and had not been -accustomed to lay much weight on what she said; but this was spoken so -vehemently, and was so prodigiously extravagant, that Barbara could -only loosen her hold of her sister, draw back to the far end of the -sofa, and stare at her dismayedly. In her present state of distress -about Eve she thought more seriously of Eve’s words than they deserved. -Eve was angry, discontented, and said what came uppermost, so as to -annoy her sister. - -‘Eve dear,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘I pray you not to talk in this -manner, as if you had said good-bye to all right principle and sound -sense. Mr. Coyshe is downstairs. We must decide on an answer, and that -a definite one.’ - -‘_We!_’ repeated Eve; ‘I suppose it concerns me only.’ - -‘What concerns you concerns me; you know that very well, Eve.’ - -‘I am not at liberty, I suppose, to choose for myself?’ - -‘You are a dear good girl, who will elect what is most pleasing to your -father and sister, and promises greatest happiness to yourself.’ - -Eve sat pouting and playing with the ends of her apron. Then she took -one end which she had twisted into a horn, and put it between her -pearly teeth, whilst she looked furtively and mischievously at her -sister, who sat with her hands on her lap, tapping the floor with her -feet. - -‘Barbie!’ said Eve slily. - -‘Well, dear!’ - -‘Do lend me your pocket-handkerchief. I have been crying and made mine -wet. Papa was so cross and you scolded me so sharply.’ - -Barbara, without looking at her sister, held out her handkerchief to -her. Eve took it, pulled it out by the two ends, twirled it round, -folded, knotted it, worked diligently at it, got it into the compact -shape she desired, laid it in her arms, with the fingers under it, and -then, without Barbara seeing what she was about—’Hist!’ said Eve, and -away shot the white rabbit she had manufactured into Barbara’s lap. -Then she burst into a merry laugh. The clouds had rolled away. The sun -was shining. - -‘How can you! How can you be so childish!’ burst from Barbara, as she -started up, and let the white rabbit fall at her feet. ‘Here we are,’ -said Barbara, with some anger, ‘here we are discussing your future, -and deciding your happiness or sorrow, and you—you are making white -rabbits! You really, Eve, are no better than a child. You are not fit -to choose for yourself. Come along with me. We must go down. Papa and -I will settle for you as is best. You want a master who will bring you -into order, and, if possible, force you to think.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLII. - -ENGAGED. - - -IF a comparison were made between the results of well and ill -considered ventures, which would prove the most uniformly successful? -Not certainly those undertakings which have been most carefully -weighed and prudently determined on. Just as frequently the rash and -precipitate venture is crowned with success as that which has been -wisely considered; and just as often the latter proves a failure, and -falsifies every expectation. Nature, Fate, whatever it be that rules -our destinies, rules them crookedly, and, with mischief, upsets all our -calculations. We build our card-houses, and she fillips a marble into -them and brings them down. Why do we invariably stop every hole except -that by which the sea rolls through our dyke? Why do we always forget -to lock the stable door till the nag has been stolen? - -The old myth is false which tells of Prometheus as bound and torn -and devoured by the eagle; Pro-metheus is free and unrent, it is -Epi-metheus who is in chains, and writhing, and looks back on the -irrevocable past, and curses itself and is corroded with remorse. - -What is the fate of Forethought but to be flouted by capricious -Destiny, to be ever proved a fool and blind, to be shown that it were -just as well had it never existed? - -Eve hung back as Barbara led her to her father’s door. Mr. Coyshe was -in there, and though she had said she would take him she did not mean -it. She certainly did not want to have to make her decision then. Her -face became a little pale, some of the bright colour had gone from it -when her temper subsided and she had begun to play at making rabbits. -Now more left her cheeks, and she held back as Barbara tried to draw -her on. But Barbara was very determined, and though Eve was wayward, -she would not take the trouble to be obstinate. ‘I can but say no,’ she -said to herself, ‘if the creature does ask me.’ Then she whispered into -Barbara’s ear, ‘Bab, I won’t have a scene before all the parish.’ - -‘All the parish, dear!’ remonstrated the elder, ‘there is no one -there but papa and the doctor; and if the latter means to speak he -will ask to have a word with you in private, and you can go into the -drawing-room.’ - -‘But I don’t want to see him.’ - -Barbara threw open the door. - -Mr. Jordan was propped up in his bed on pillows. He was much worse, and -a feverish fire burned in his eyes and cheeks. He saw Eve at once and -called her to him. - -Then her ill-humour returned, she pouted and looked away from Mr. -Coyshe so as not to see him. He bowed and smiled, and pushed forward -extending his hand, but she brushed past with her eyes fixed on her -father. She was angry with Barbara for having brought her down. - -‘Eve,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘I am very ill. The doctor has warned me that I -have been much hurt by what has happened. It was your doing, Eve. You -were foolish last night. You forgot what was proper to your station. -Your want of consideration is the cause of my being so much worse, and -of that scoundrel’s escape.’ - -‘O papa, I am very sorry I hurt you, but as for his getting off—I am -glad! He had stolen my money, so I have a right to forgive him, and -that I do freely.’ - -‘Eve!’ exclaimed her father, ‘you do not know what you say. Come nearer -to me, child.’ - -‘If I am to be scolded, papa,’ said Eve, sullenly, ‘I’d like not to -have it done in public.’ She looked round the room, everywhere but at -Mr. Coyshe. Her sister watched her anxiously. - -‘Eve,’ said the old man, ‘I am very ill and am not likely to be strong -again. I cannot be always with you. I am not any more capable to act as -your protector, and Barbara has the cares of the house, and lacks the -authority to govern and lead you.’ - -‘I don’t want any governing and leading, papa,’ said Eve, studying the -bed cover. ‘Papa,’ after a moment, ‘whilst you lie in bed, don’t you -think all those little tufts on the counterpane look like poplars? I -often do, and imagine gardens and walks and pleasure-grounds among -them.’ - -‘Eve,’ said her father, ‘I am not going to be put off what I have to -say by such poor artifices as this. I am going to send you back to -Lanherne.’ - -‘Lanherne!’ echoed Eve, springing back. ‘I can’t go there, papa; -indeed I can’t. It is dull enough here, but it is ten thousand times -duller there. I have just said so to Barbara. I can’t go, I won’t go -to Lanherne. I don’t see why I should be forced. I’m not going to be a -nun. My education has been completed under Barbara. I know where Cape -Guardafui is, and the Straits of Malacca, and the Coromandel Coast. I -know Mangnall’s questions and answers right through—that is, I know the -questions and some of the answers. I can read “Télémaque.” What more is -wanted of any girl? I don’t desire any more learning. I hate Lanherne. -I fell ill last time I was there. Those nuns look like hobgoblins, and -not like angels. I shall run away. Besides, it was eternally semolina -pudding there, and, papa, I hate semolina. Always semolina on fast -days, and the puddings sometimes burnt. There now, my education _is_ -incomplete. I do not know whence semolina comes. Is it vegetable, -papa? Mr. Coyshe, you are scientific, tell us the whole history of the -production of this detestable article of commerce.’ - -‘Semolina——’ began Mr. Coyshe. - -‘Never mind about semolina,’ interrupted Barbara, who saw through -her sister’s tricks. ‘We will turn up the word in the encyclopædia -afterwards. We are considering Lanherne now.’ - -‘I don’t mind the large-grained semolina so much, said Eve, with a -face of childlike simplicity; ‘that is almost as good as tapioca.’ - -Her father caught her wrist and drew her hand upon the bed. He clutched -it so tightly that she exclaimed that he hurt her. - -‘Eve,’ he said, ‘it is necessary for you to go.’ - -Her face became dull and stubborn again. - -‘Is Mr. Coyshe here to examine my chest, and see if I am strong enough -to endure confinement? Because I was the means, according to you, papa, -of poor—of the prisoner escaping last night, therefore I am to be sent -to prison myself to-morrow.’ - -‘I am not sending you to prison,’ said her father, ‘I am placing you -under wise and pious guardians. You are not to be trusted alone any -more. Barbara has been——’ - -‘There! there!’ exclaimed Eve, flashing an angry glance at her sister, -and bursting into tears; ‘was there ever a poor girl so badly treated? -I am scolded, and threatened with jail. My sister, who should love me -and take my part, is my chief tormentor, and instigates you, papa, -against me. She is rightly called Barbara—she is a savage. I know so -much Latin as to understand that.’ - -Barbara touched Mr. Coyshe, and signed to him to leave the room with -her. - -Eve watched them out of the room with satisfaction. She could manage -her father, she thought, if left alone with him. But her father was -thoroughly alarmed. He had been told that she had met Martin on the -rock. Barbara had told him this to exculpate Jasper. Her conduct on the -preceding night had, moreover, filled him with uneasiness. - -‘Papa,’ said Eve, looking at her little foot and shoe, ‘don’t you think -Mr. Coyshe’s ears stick out very much? I suppose his mother was not -particular with him to put them under the rim of his cap.’ - -‘I have not noticed.’ - -‘And, papa, what eager, staring eyes he has got! I think he straps his -cravat too tight.’ - -‘Possibly.’ - -‘Do you know, dear papa, there is a little hole just over the -mantelshelf in my room, and the other day I saw something hanging down -from it. I thought it was a bit of string, and I went up to it and -pulled it. Then there came a little squeak, and I screamed. What do you -suppose I had laid hold of? It was a mouse’s tail. Was that not an odd -thing, papa, for the wee mouse to sit in its run and let its tail hang -down outside?’ - -‘Yes, very odd.’ - -‘Papa, how did all those beautiful things come into the house which -I found in the chest upstairs? And why were you so cross with me for -putting them on?’ - -The old man’s face changed at once, the wild look came back into his -eye, and his hand which clasped her wrist clutched it so convulsively, -that she felt his nails cut her tender skin. - -‘Eve!’ he said, and his voice quivered, ‘never touch them again. Never -speak of them again. My God!’ he put his hand to his brow and wiped the -drops which suddenly started over it, ‘my God! I fear, I fear for her.’ - -Then he turned his agitated face eagerly to her, and said— - -‘Eve! you must take him. I wish it. I shall have no peace till I know -you are in his hands. He is so wise and so assured. I cannot die and -leave you alone. I wake up in the night bathed in a sweat of fear, -thinking of you, fearing for you. I imagine all sorts of things. Do you -not wish to go to Lanherne? Then take Mr. Coyshe. He will make you a -good husband. I shall be at ease when you are provided for. I cannot -die—and I believe I am nearer death than you or Barbara, or even the -doctor, supposes—I cannot die, and leave you here alone, unprotected. -O Eve! if you love me do as I ask. You must either go to Lanherne or -take Mr. Coyshe. It must be one or the other. What is that?’ he asked -suddenly, drawing back in the bed, and staring wildly at her, and -pointing at her forehead with a white quivering finger. ‘What is there? -A stain—a spot. One of my black spots, very big. No, it is red. It is -blood! It came there when I was wounded by the scythe, and every now -and then it breaks out again. I see it now.’ - -‘Papa!’ said Eve, shuddering, ‘don’t point at me in that way, and look -so strange; you frighten me. There is nothing there. Barbie washed it -off long ago.’ - -Then he wavered in his bed, passing one hand over the other, as -washing—’It cannot wash off,’ he said, despairingly. ‘It eats its way -in, farther, farther, till it reaches the very core of the heart, and -then——’ he cast himself back and moaned. - -‘It was very odd of the mouse,’ said Eve, ‘to sit with her little back -to the room, looking into the dark, and her tail hanging out into the -chamber.’ She thought to divert her father’s thoughts from his fancies. - -‘Eve!’ he said in a hoarse voice, and turned sharply round on her, ‘let -me see your mother’s ring again. To-day you shall put it on. Hitherto -you have worn it hung round your neck. To-day you shall bear it on your -finger, in token that you are engaged.’ - -‘Oh, papa, dear! I don’t——’ - -‘Which is it to be, Lanherne or Mr. Coyshe?’ - -‘I won’t indeed go to Lanherne.’ - -‘Very well; then you will take Mr. Coyshe. He will make you happy. He -will not always live here; he talks of a practice in London. He tells -me that he has found favour with the Duke. If he goes to London——’ - -‘Oh, papa! Is he really going to London?’ - -‘Yes, child!’ - -‘Where all the theatres are! Oh, papa! I should like to live in a town, -I do not like being mewed up in the country. Will he have a carriage?’ - -‘I suppose so.’ - -‘Oh, papa! and a tiger in buttons and a gold band?’ - -‘I do not know.’ - -‘I am sure he will, papa! I’d rather have that than go to Lanherne.’ - -Mr. Jordan knocked with his stick against the wall. Eve was frightened. - -‘Papa, don’t be too hasty. I only meant that I hate Lanherne!’ - -In fact, she was alarmed by his mention of the ring, and following her -usual simple tactics had diverted the current of his thoughts into -another direction. - -Barbara and Mr. Coyshe came in. - -‘She consents,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘Eve, give him your hand. Where is the -ring?’ - -She drew back. - -‘I want the ring,’ he said again, impatiently. - -‘Papa, I have not got it—that is—I have mislaid it.’ - -‘What!’ he exclaimed, trying to sit up, and becoming excited. ‘The -ring—not lost! Mislaid! It must be found. I will have it. Your mother’s -ring! I will never, never forgive if that is lost. Produce it at once.’ - -‘I cannot, papa. I don’t know—— O—Mr. Coyshe, quick, give me your hand. -There! I consent. Do not be excited, dear papa. I’ll find the ring -to-morrow.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII. - -IN A MINE. - - -EVE had no sooner consented to take Mr. Coyshe, just to save herself -the inconvenience of being questioned about the lost ring, than she -ran out of the room, and to escape further importunity ran over the -fields towards the wood. She had scarcely gone three steps from the -house before she regretted what she had done. She did not care for Mr. -Coyshe. She laughed at his peculiarities. She did not believe, like -her father and sister, in his cleverness. But she saw that his ears -and eyes were unduly prominent, and she was alive to the ridiculous. -Mr. Coyshe was more to her fancy than most of the young men of the -neighbourhood, who talked of nothing but sport, and who would grow -with advancing age to talk of sport and rates, and beyond rates would -not grow. Eve was not fond of hunting. Barbara rarely went after the -hounds, Eve never. She did not love horse exercise; she preferred -sauntering in the woods and lanes, gathering autumn-tinted blackberry -leaves, to a run over the downs after a fox. Perhaps hunting required -too much exertion for her: Eve did not care for exertion. She made -dolls’ clothes still, at the age of seventeen; she played on the piano -and sang; she collected leaves and flowers for posies. That was all Eve -cared to do. Whatever she did she did it listlessly, because nothing -thoroughly interested her. Yet she felt that there might be things -which were not to be encountered at Morwell that would stir her heart -and make her pulses bound. In a word, she had an artistic nature, and -the world in which she moved was a narrow and inartistic world. Her -proper faculties were unevoked. Her true nature slept. - -The hoot of an owl, followed by a queer little face peeping at her from -behind a pine. She did not at once recognise Watt, as her mind was -occupied with her engagement to Mr. Coyshe. - -Now at the very moment Watt showed himself her freakish mind had -swerved from a position of disgust at her engagement, into one of -semi-content with it. Mr. Coyshe was going to London, and there she -would be free to enjoy herself after her own fashion, in seeing plays, -hearing operas, going to all the sights of the great town, in a life of -restless pleasure-seeking, and that was exactly what Eve desired. - -Watt looked woe-begone. He crept from behind the tree. His impudence -and merriment had deserted him. Tears came into his eyes as he spoke. - -‘Are they all gone?’ he asked, looking cautiously about. - -‘Whom do you mean?’ - -‘The police.’ - -‘Yes, they have left Morwell. I do not know whither. Whether they are -searching for your brother or have given up the search I cannot say. -What keeps you here?’ - -‘O Miss Eve! poor Martin is not far off. It would not do for him to run -far. He is in hiding at no great distance, and—he has nothing to eat.’ - -‘Where is he? What can I do?’ asked Eve, frightened. - -‘He is in an old mine. He will not be discovered there. Even if the -constables found the entrance, which is improbable, they would not take -him, for he would retreat into one of the side passages and escape by -an airhole in another part of the wood.’ - -‘I will try what I can do. I dare say I might smuggle some food away -from the house and put it behind the hedge, whence you could fetch it.’ - -‘That is not enough. He must get away.’ - -‘There is Jasper’s horse still with us. I will ask Jasper, and you can -have that.’ - -‘No,’ answered the boy, ‘that will not do. We must not take the road -this time. We must try the water.’ - -‘We have a boat,’ said Eve, ‘but papa would never allow it to be used.’ - -‘Your papa will know nothing about it, nor the prudent Barbara, nor the -solemn Jasper. You can get the key and let us have the boat.’ - -‘I will do what I can, but’—as a sudden thought struck her—’Martin must -let me have my ring again. I want it so much. My father has been asking -for it.’ - -‘How selfish you are!’ exclaimed the boy reproachfully. ‘Thinking of -your own little troubles when a vast danger menaces our dear Martin. -Come with me. You must see Martin and ask him yourself for that ring. I -dare not speak of it; he values that ring above everything. You must -plead for it yourself with that pretty mouth and those speaking eyes.’ - -‘I must not; indeed I must not!’ - -‘Why not? You will not be missed. No one will harm you. You should see -the poor fellow, to what he is reduced by love for you. Yes, come and -see him. He would never have been here, he would have been far away in -safety, but he had the desire to see you again.’ - -‘Indeed, I cannot accompany you.’ - -‘Then you must do without the ring.’ - -‘I want my ring again vastly. My father is cross because I have not -got it, and I have promised to show it him. How can I keep my promise -unless it be restored to me?’ - -‘Come, come!’ said the boy impatiently. ‘Whilst you are talking you -might have got half-way to his den.’ - -‘I will only just speak to him,’ said Eve, ‘two words, and then run -home.’ - -‘To be sure. That will be ample—two words,’ sneered the boy, and led -the way. - -The old mine adit was below the rocks near the river, and at no -great distance from the old landing-place, where Jasper had recently -constructed a boathouse. The ground about the entrance was thickly -strewn with dead leaves, mixed with greenish shale thrown out of the -copper mine, and so poisonous that no grass had been able to grow -over it, though the mine had probably not been worked for a century -or even more. But the mouth of the adit was now completely overgrown -with brambles and fringed with ferns. The dogwood, now in flower, -had thickly clambered near the entrance wherever the earth was not -impregnated with copper and arsenic. - -Eve shrank from the black entrance and hung back, but the boy caught -her by the arm and insisted on her coming with him. She surmounted some -broken masses of rock that had fallen before the entrance, and brushed -aside the dogwood and briars. The air struck chill and damp against her -brow as she passed out of the sun under the stony arch. - -The rock was lichened. White-green fungoid growths hung down in -streamers; the floor was dry, though water dripped from the sides and -nourished beds of velvet moss as far in as the light penetrated. So -much rubble covered the bottom of the adit, that the water filtered -through it and passed by a subterranean channel to the river. - -After taking a few steps forward, Eve saw Martin half sitting, half -lying on a bed of fern and heather; the grey light from the entrance -fell on his face. It was pale and drawn; but he brightened up when he -saw Eve, and he started to his knee to salute her. - -‘I cannot stand upright in this cursed hole,’ he said, ‘but at this -moment it matters not. On my knee I do homage to my queen.’ He seized -her hand and pressed his lips to it. - -‘Here you see me,’ he said, ‘doomed to shiver in this pit, catching my -death of rheumatism.’ - -‘You will surely soon get away,’ said Eve. ‘I am very sorry for you. I -must go home, I may not stay.’ - -‘What! leave me now that you have appeared as a sunbeam, shining into -this abyss to glorify it! Oh, no—stay a few minutes, and then I shall -remain and dream of the time you were here. Look at my companions.’ He -pointed to the roof, where curious lumps like compacted cobwebs hung -down. ‘These are bats, asleep during the day. When night falls they -will begin to stir and shake their wings, and scream, and fly out. -Shall I have to sleep in this den, with the hideous creatures crying -and flapping about my head?’ - -‘Oh, that will be dreadful! But surely you will leave this when night -comes on?’ - -‘Yes, if you will help me to get away.’ - -‘I will furnish you with the key to the boathouse. I will hide it -somewhere, and then your brother can find it.’ - -‘That will not satisfy me. You must bring the key here.’ - -‘Why? I cannot do that.’ - -‘Indeed you must; I cannot live without another glimpse of your sweet -face. Peter was released by an angel. It shall be the same with Martin.’ - -‘I will bring you the key,’ said Eve nervously, ‘if you will give me -back my ring.’ - -‘Your ring!’ exclaimed Martin; ‘never! Go—call the myrmidons of justice -and deliver me into their hands.’ - -‘I would not do that for the world,’ said Eve with tears in her eyes; -‘I will do everything that I can to help you. Indeed, last night, I -got into dreadful trouble by dressing up and playing my tambourine and -dancing to attract the attention of the men, whilst you were escaping -from the corn-chamber. Papa was very angry and excited, and Barbara -was simply—dreadful. I have been scolded and made most unhappy. Do, in -pity, give me up the ring. My papa has asked for it. You have already -got me into another trouble, because I had not the ring. I was obliged -to promise to marry Doctor Coyshe just to pacify papa, he was so -excited about the ring.’ - -‘What! engaged yourself to another?’ - -‘I was forced into it, to-day, I tell you—because I had not got the -ring. Give it me. I want to get out of my engagement, and I cannot -without that.’ - -‘And I—it is not enough that I should be hunted as a hare—my heart -must be broken! Walter! where are you? Come here and listen to me. -Never trust a woman. Curse the whole sex for its falseness and its -selfishness. There is no constancy in this world.’ And he sighed and -looked reproachfully at Eve. ‘After all I have endured and suffered—for -you.’ - -Eve’s tears flowed. Martin’s attitude, tone of voice, were pathetic and -moved her. ‘I am very sorry,’ she said, ‘but—I never gave you the ring. -You snatched it from me. You are unknown to me, I am nothing to you, -and you are—you are——’ - -‘Yes, speak out the bitter truth. I am a thief, a runaway convict, a -murderer. Use every offensive epithet that occurs in your vocabulary. -Give a dog a bad name and hang him. I ought to have known the sex -better than to have trusted you. But I loved, I was blinded by passion. -I saw an angel face, and blue eyes that promised a heaven of tenderness -and truth. I saw, I loved, I trusted—and here I am, a poor castaway -ship, lying ready to be broken up and plundered by wreckers. O the -cruel, faithless sex! We men, with our royal trust, our splendid -self-sacrifice, become a ready prey; and when we are down, the laughing -heartless tyrants dance over us. When the lion was sick the ass came -and kicked him. It was the last indignity the royal beast could endure, -he laid his head between his paws and his heart brake. Leave me—leave -me to die.’ - -‘O Martin!’ said Eve, quite overcome by his greatness, and the vastness -of his devotion, ‘I have never hurt you, never offended you. You are -like my papa, and have fancies.’ - -‘I have fancies. Yes, you are right, terribly right. I have had my -fancies. I have lived in a delusion. I believed in the honesty of those -eyes. I trusted your word——’ - -‘I never gave you a word.’ - -‘Do not interrupt me. I _did_ suppose that your heart had surrendered -to me. The delusion is over. The heart belongs to a vulgar village -apothecary. That heart which I so treasured——’ his voice shook and -broke, and Eve sobbed. ‘Who brought the police upon me?’ he went on. -‘It was you, whom I loved and trusted, you who possess an innocent face -and a heart full of guile. And here I lie, your victim, in a living -grave your cruel hands have scooped out for me in the rock.’ - -‘O—indeed, this mine was dug hundreds of years ago.’ - -He turned a reproachful look at her. ‘Why do you interrupt me? I speak -metaphorically. You brought me to this, and if you have a spark of good -feeling in your breast you will get me away from here.’ - -‘I will bring you the key as soon as the sun sets.’ - -‘That is right. I accept the token of penitence with gladness, and hope -for day in the heart where the light dawns.’ - -‘I must go—I really must go,’ she said. - -He bowed grandly to her, with his hand on his heart. - -‘Come,’ said Watt. ‘I will help you over these rubbish heaps. You have -had your two words.’ - -‘O stay!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘my ring! I came for that and I have not got -it. I must indeed, indeed have it.’ - -‘Eve,’ said Martin, ‘I have been disappointed, and have spoken sharply -of the sex. But I am not the man to harbour mistrust. Deceived I have -been, and perhaps am now laying myself open to fresh disappointment. I -cannot say. I cannot go against my nature, which is frank and trustful. -There—take your ring. Come back to me this evening with it and the -key, and prove to me that all women are not false, that all confidence -placed in them is not misplaced.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV. - -TUCKERS. - - -BARBARA sat in the little oak parlour, a pretty room that opened out of -the hall; indeed it had originally been a portion of the hall, which -was constructed like a letter L. The hall extended to the roof, but the -branch at right angles was not half the height. It was ceiled about ten -feet from the floor, and instead of being, like the hall, paved with -slate, had oak boards. The window looked into the garden. Mr. Jordan’s -father had knocked away the granite mullions, and put in a sash-window, -out of keeping with the room and house, but agreeable to the taste of -the period, and admitting more light. A panelled division cut the room -off from the hall. Barbara and Eve could not agree about the adornment -of this apartment. On the walls were a couple of oil paintings, and -Barbara supplemented them with framed and glazed mezzotints. She could -not be made by her sister to see the incongruity of engravings and oil -paintings hanging side by side on dark oak panels. On the chimney-piece -was a French ormolu clock, which was Eve’s detestation. It was badly -designed and unsuitable for the room. So was the banner-screen of a -poodle resting on a red cushion; so were the bugle mats on the table; -so were the antimacassars on all the arm-chairs and over the back of -the sofa; so were some drawing-room chairs purchased by Barbara, with -curved legs, and rails that were falling out periodically. Barbara -thought these chairs handsome, Eve detestable. The chimney-piece -ornaments, the vases of pale green glass illuminated with flowers, were -also objects of aversion to one sister and admiration to the other. -Eve at one time refused to make posies for the vases in the parlour, -and was always protesting against some new introduction by her sister, -which violated the principles of taste. - -‘I don’t like to live in a dingy old hall like this,’ Eve would say; -‘but I like a place to be fitted up in keeping with its character.’ - -Barbara was now seated in this debatable ground. Eve was out somewhere, -and she was alone and engaged with her needle. Her father, in the next -room, was dozing. Then to the open window came Jasper, leaned his arms -on the sill—the sash was up—and looked in at Barbara. - -‘Hard at work as usual?’ he said. - -She smiled and nodded, and looked at him, holding her needle up, with a -long white thread in it. - -‘On what engaged I dare not ask,’ said Jasper. - -‘You may know,’ she said, laughing. ‘Sewing in tuckers. I always sew -tuckers on Saturdays, both for myself and for Eve.’ - -‘And, pray, what are tuckers?’ - -‘Tuckers’—she hesitated to find a suitable description, ‘tuckers -are—well, tuckers.’ She took a neck of a dress which she had finished -and put it round her throat. ‘Now you see. Now you understand. Tuckers -are the garnishing, like parsley to a dish.’ - -‘And compliments to speech. So you do Eve’s as well as your own.’ - -‘O dear, yes; Eve cannot be trusted. She would forget all about them -and wear dirty tuckers.’ - -‘But she worked hard enough burnishing the brass necklace.’ - -‘O yes, that shone! tuckers are simply—clean.’ - -‘My Lady Eve should have a lady’s-maid.’ - -‘Not whilst I am with her. I do all that is needful for her. When she -marries she must have one, as she is helpless.’ - -‘You think Eve will marry?’ - -‘O yes! It is all settled. She has consented.’ - -He was a little surprised. This had come about very suddenly, and Eve -was young. - -‘I am glad you are here,’ said Barbara, ‘only you have taken an unfair -advantage of me.’ - -‘I—Barbara?’ - -‘Yes, Jasper, you.’ She looked up into his face with a heightened -colour. He had never called her by her plain Christian name before, nor -had she thus addressed him, but their hearts understood each other, and -a formal title would have been an affectation on either side. - -‘I will tell you why,’ said the girl; ‘so do not put on such a -puzzled expression. I want to speak to you seriously about a matter -that—that—well, Jasper, that makes me wish you had your face in the -light and mine in the shade. Where you stand the glare of the sky is -behind you, and you can see every change in my face, and that unnerves -me. Either you shall come in here, take my place at the tuckers, and -let me talk to you through the window, or else I shall move my chair -close to the window, and sit with my back to it, and we can talk -without watching each other’s face.’ - -‘Do that, Barbara. I cannot venture on the tuckers.’ - -So, laughing nervously, and with her colour changing in her checks, and -her lips twitching, she drew her chair close to the window, and seated -herself, not exactly with her back to it, but sideways, and turned her -face from it. - -The ground outside was higher than the floor of the parlour, so that -Jasper stood above her, and looked down somewhat, not much, on her -head, her dark hair so neat and glossy, and smoothly parted. He stooped -to the mignonette bed and gathered some of the fragrant delicate little -trusses of colourless flowers, and with a slight apology thrust two or -three among her dark hair. - -‘Putting in tuckers,’ he said. ‘Garnishing the sweetest of heads with -the plant that to my mind best symbolises Barbara.’ - -‘Don’t,’ she exclaimed, shaking her head, but not shaking the sprigs -out of her hair. ‘You are taking unwarrantable liberties, Mr. Jasper.’ - -‘I will take no more.’ He folded his arms on the sill. She did not see, -but she felt, the flood of love that poured over her bowed head from -his eyes. She worked very hard fastening off a thread at the end of a -tucker. - -‘I also,’ said Jasper, ‘have been desirous of a word with you, Barbara.’ - -She turned, looked up in his face, then bent her head again over her -work. The flies, among them a great bluebottle, were humming in the -window; the latter bounced against the glass, and was too stupid to -come down and go out at the open sash. - -‘We understand each other,’ said Jasper, in a low voice, as pleasant -and soft as the murmur of the flies. ‘There are songs without words, -and there is speech without voice: what I have thought and felt you -know, though I have not told you anything, and I think I know also what -you think and feel. Now, however, it is as well that we should come to -plain words.’ - -‘Yes, Jasper, I think so as well, that is why I have come over here -with my tuckers.’ - -‘We know each other’s heart,’ he said, stooping in over her head and -the garnishing of mignonette, and speaking as low as a whisper, not -really in a whisper but in his natural warm, rich voice. ‘There is -this, dear Barbara, about me. My name, my family, are dishonoured by -the thoughtless, wrongful act of my poor brother. I dare not ask you to -share that name with me, not only on this ground, but also because I am -absolutely penniless. A great wrong has been done to your father and -sister by us, and it does not become me to ask the greatest and richest -of gifts from your family. Hereafter I may inherit my father’s mill at -Buckfastleigh. When I do I will, as I have undertaken, fully repay the -debt to your sister, but till I can do that I may not ask for more. You -are, and must be, to me a far-off, unapproachable star, to whom I look -up, whom I shall ever love and stretch my hands towards.’ - -‘I am not a star at all,’ said Barbara, ‘and as for being far off and -unapproachable, you are talking nonsense, and you do not mean it or you -would not have stuck bits of mignonette in my hair. I do not understand -rhodomontade.’ - -Jasper laughed. He liked her downright, plain way. ‘I am quoting a -thought from “Preciosa,”’ he said. - -‘I know nothing of “Preciosa,” save that it is something Eve strums.’ - -‘Well—divest what I have said of all exaggeration of simile, you -understand what I mean.’ - -‘And I want you to understand my position exactly, Jasper,’ she said. -‘I also am penniless. The money my aunt left me I have made over to Eve -because she could not marry Mr. Coyshe without something present, as -well as a prospect of something to come.’ - -‘What! sewn your poor little legacy in as a tucker to her wedding gown?’ - -‘Mr. Coyshe wants to go to London, he is lost here; and Eve would be -happy in a great city, she mopes in the country. So I have consented -to this arrangement. I do not want the money as I live here with my -father, and it is a real necessity for Eve and Mr. Coyshe. You see—I -could not do other.’ - -‘And when your father dies, Morwell also passes to Eve. What is left -for you?’ - -‘Oh, I shall do very well. Mr. Coyshe and Eve would never endure to -live here. By the time dear papa is called away Mr. Coyshe will have -made himself a name, be a physician, and rolling in money. Perhaps he -and Eve may like to run here for their short holiday and breathe our -pure air, but otherwise they will not occupy the place, and I thought I -might live on here and manage for them. Then’—she turned her cheek and -Jasper saw a glitter on the long dark lash, but at the same time the -dimple of a smile on her cheek—’then, dear friend’—she put up her hand -on the sill, and he caught it—’then, dear friend, perhaps you will not -mind helping me. Then probably your little trouble will be over.’ She -was silent, thinking, and he saw the dimple go out of her smooth cheek, -and the sparkling drop fall from the lash on that cheek. ‘All is in -God’s hand,’ she said. ‘We do wrong to look forward; I shall be happy -to leave it so, and wait and trust.’ - -Then he put the other hand which did not clasp hers under her chin, and -tried to raise her face, but he could only reach her brow with his lips -and kiss it. He said not one word. - -‘You do not answer,’ she said. - -‘I cannot,’ he replied. - -Then the door was thrown open and Eve entered, flushed, and holding up -her finger. - -‘Look, Bab!—look, dear! I have my ring again. Now I can shake off that -doctor.’ - -‘O Eve!’ gasped Barbara; ‘the ring! where did you get it?’ She turned -sharply to Jasper. ‘She has seen him—your brother Martin—again.’ - -Eve was, for a moment, confused, but only for a moment. She recovered -herself and said merrily, ‘Why, Barbie dear, however did you get that -crown of mignonette in your hair? You never stuck it there yourself. -You would not dream of such a thing; besides, your arm is not long -enough to reach the flower-bed. Jasper! confess you have been doing -this.’ She clasped her hands and danced. ‘O what fun!’ she exclaimed: -‘but really it is a shame of me interfering when Barbara is so busy -with the tuckers, and Jasper in garnishing Barbara’s head.’ Then she -bounded out of the room, leaving her sister in confusion. - - - - -CHAPTER XLV. - -DUCK AND GREEN PEAS. - - -EVE might evade an explanation by turning the defence into an attack -when first surprised, but she was unable to resist a determined -onslaught, and when Barbara followed her and parried all her feints, -and brought her to close quarters, Eve was driven to admit that she -had seen Martin, who was in concealment in the wood, and that she had -undertaken to furnish him with food and the boathouse key. Jasper was -taken into consultation, and promised to seek his brother and provide -for him what was necessary, but neither he nor Barbara could induce her -to remain at home and not revisit the fugitive. - -‘I know that Jasper will not find the place without me,’ she said. -‘Watt only discovered it by his prowling about as a weasel. I must go -with Mr. Jasper, but I promise you, Barbie, it shall be for the last -time.’ There was reason in her argument, and Barbara was forced to -acquiesce. - -Accordingly in the evening, not before, the two set out for the mine, -Eve carrying some provisions in a basket. Jasper was much annoyed that -his brother was still in the neighbourhood, and still causing trouble -to the sisters at Morwell. - -Eve had shown her father the ring. The old man was satisfied; he took -it, looked hard at it, slipped it on his little finger, and would not -surrender it again. Eve must explain this to Martin if he redemanded -the ring, which he was like enough to do. - -Neither she nor Jasper spoke much to each other on the way; he had his -thoughts occupied, and she was not easy in her mind. As they approached -the part of the wood where the mine shaft was, she began to sing the -song in ‘Don Giovanni,’ _Là ci darem_, as a signal to Watt that friends -drew nigh through the bushes. On entering the adit they found Martin -in an ill humour. He had been without food for many hours, and was -moreover suffering from an attack of rheumatism. - -‘I said as much this morning, Eve,’ he growled. ‘I knew this hateful -hole would make me ill, and here I am in agonies. Oh, it is of no use -your bringing me the key of the boat; _I_ can’t go on the water with -knives running into my back, and, what is more, I can’t stick in this -hateful burrow. How many hours on the water down to Plymouth? I can’t -even think of it; I should have rheumatic fever. I’d rather be back -in jail—there I suppose they would give me hot-bottles and blankets. -And this, too, when I had prepared such a treat for Eve. Curse it! I’m -always thinking of others, and getting into pickles myself accordingly.’ - -‘Why, pray, what were you scheming to do for Miss Eve?’ asked Jasper. - -‘O, the company I was with for a bit is at Plymouth, and are performing -Weber’s new piece, “Preciosa,” and I thought I’d like to show it to -her—and then the manager, Justice Barret, knows about her mother. When -I told him of my escape, and leaving you at Morwell, he said that he -had left one of his company there named Eve. I thought it would be a -pleasure to the young lady to meet him, and hear what he had to tell of -her mother.’ - -‘And you intended to carry Eve off with you?’ - -‘I intended to persuade her to accompany me. Perhaps she will do so -still, when I am better.’ - -Jasper was angry, and spoke sharply to his brother. Martin turned on -his bed of fern and heather, and groaning, put his hands over his ears. - -‘Come,’ said he. ‘Watt, give me food. I can’t stand scolding on an -empty stomach, and with aches in my bones.’ - -He was impervious to argument; remonstrance he resented. Jasper -took the basket from Eve, and gave him what he required. He groaned -and cried out as Watt raised him in his arms. Martin looked at Eve, -appealing for sympathy. He was a martyr, a guiltless sufferer, and not -spared even by his brother. - -‘I think, Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘that if you were well wrapped in -blankets you might still go in the boat.’ - -‘You seem vastly eager to be rid of me,’ answered Martin peevishly, -‘but, I tell you, I will not go. I’m not going to jeopardise my life on -the river in the fogs and heavy dews to relieve you from anxiety. How -utterly and unreasonably selfish you are! If there be one vice which -is despicable, it is selfishness. I repeat, I won’t go, and I won’t -stay in this hole. You must find some safe and warm place in which -to stow me. I throw all responsibilities on you. I wish I had never -escaped from jail—I have been sinking ever since I left it. There I had -a dry cell and food. From that I went to the corn-chamber at Morwell, -which was dry—but, faugh! how it stank of onions! Now I have this damp -dungeon that smells of mould. Watt and you got me out of prison, and -got me away from the warders and constables, so you must provide for -me now. I have nothing more to do with it. If you take a responsibility -on you, my doctrine is, go through with it; don’t take it up and drop -it half finished. What news of that fellow I shot? Is he dead?’ - -‘No—wounded, but not dangerously.’ - -‘There, then, why should I fear? I was comfortable in jail. I had -my meals regularly there, and was not subjected to damp. I trust my -country would have cared for me better than my brothers, who give me at -one time onions for a pillow, and at another heather for a bed.’ - -‘My dear Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘I think if you try you can walk up the -road; there is a woodman’s hut among the trees near the Raven Rock, but -concealed in the coppice. It is warm and dry, and no one will visit it -whilst the leaves are on the trees. The workmen keep their tools there, -and their dinners, when shredding in winter or rending in spring. You -will be as safe there as here, and so much nearer Morwell that we shall -be able easily to furnish you with necessaries till you are better, and -can escape to Plymouth.’ - -‘I’m not sure that it is wise for me to try to get to Plymouth. The -police will be on the look-out for me there, and they will not dream -that I have stuck here—this is the last place where they would suppose -I stayed. Besides, I have no money. No; I will wait till the company -move away from the county, and I will rejoin it at Bridgewater, -or Taunton, or Dorchester. Justice Barret is a worthy fellow; a -travelling company can’t always command such abilities as mine, so the -accommodation is mutual.’ - -Martin was assisted out of the mine. He groaned, cried out, and made -many signs of distress; he really was suffering, but he made the most -of his suffering. Jasper stood on one side of him. He would not hear -of Walter sustaining him on the other side; he must have Eve as his -support, and he could only support himself on her by putting his arm -over her shoulders. No objections raised by Jasper were of avail. Watt -was not tall enough. Watt’s steps were irregular. Watt was required to -go on ahead and see that no one was in the way. Martin was certainly a -very handsome man. He wore a broad-brimmed hat, and fair long hair; his -eyes were dark and large, his features regular, his complexion pale and -interesting. Seeing that Jasper looked at his hair with surprise, he -laughed, and leaning his head towards him whispered, ‘Those rascals at -Prince’s Town cropped me like a Puritan. I wear a theatrical wig before -the sex, till my hair grows again.’ - -Then leaning heavily on Eve, he bent his head to her ear, and made a -complimentary remark which brought the colour into her cheek. - -‘Jasper,’ said he, turning his head again to his brother, ‘mind this, I -cannot put up with cyder; I am racked with rheumatism, and I must have -generous drink. I suppose your father’s cellar is well stocked?’ He -addressed Eve. ‘You will see that the poor invalid is not starved, and -has not his vitals wrung with vinegar. I have seen ducks about Morwell; -what do you say to duck with onion stuffing for dinner to-morrow—and -tawny port, eh? I’ll let you both into another confidence. I am not -going to lie on bracken. By hook or by crook you must contrive to bring -me out a feather bed. If I’ve not one, and a bolster and pillow and -blankets—by George and the dragon! I’ll give myself up to the beaks.’ - -Then he moaned, and squeezed Eve’s shoulder. - -‘Green peas,’ he said when the paroxysm was over. ‘Duck and green -peas; I shall dine off that to-morrow—and tell the cook not to forget -the mint. Also some carrot sliced, boiled, then fried in Devonshire -cream, with a little shallot cut very fine and toasted, sprinkled on -top. ‘Sweetheart,’ aside to Eve into her ear, ‘you shall come and have -a snack with me. Remember, it is an invitation. We will not have old -solemn face with us as a mar-fun, shall we?’ - -The woodman’s hut when reached after a slow ascent was found to be -small, warm, and in good condition. It was so low that a man could not -stand upright in it, but it was sufficiently long to allow him to lie -his length therein. The sides were of wattled oak branches, compacted -with heather and moss, and the roof was of turf. The floor was dry, -deep bedded in fern. - -‘It is a dog’s kennel,’ said the dissatisfied Martin; ‘or rather it is -not so good as that. It is the sort of place made for swans and geese -and ducks beside a pond, for shelter when they lay their eggs. It -really is humiliating that I should have to bury my head in a sort of -water-fowl’s sty.’ - -Eve promised that Martin should have whatever he desired. Jasper had, -naturally, a delicacy in offering anything beyond his own services, -though he knew he could rely on Barbara. - -When they had seen the exhausted and anguished martyr gracefully -reposing on the bracken bed, to rest after his painful walk, and had -already left, they were recalled by his voice shouting to Jasper, -regardless of every consideration that should have kept him quiet, -‘Don’t be a fool, Jasper, and shake the bottle. If you break the crust -I won’t drink it.’ And again the call came, ‘Mind the green peas.’ - -As Jasper and Eve walked back to Morwell neither spoke much, but on -reaching the last gate, Eve said— - -‘O, dear Mr. Jasper, do help me to persuade Barbie to let me go! I have -made up my mind; I must and will see the play and hear all that the -manager can tell me about my mother.’ - -‘I will go to Plymouth, Miss Eve. I must see this Mr. Justice Barret, -and I will learn every particular for you.’ - -‘That is not enough. I want to see a play. I have never been to a -theatre in all my life.’ - -‘I will see what your sister says.’ - -‘I am obstinate. I shall go, whether she says yes or no.’ - -‘To-morrow is Sunday,’ said Jasper, ‘when no theatre is open.’ - -‘Besides,’ added Eve, ‘there is poor Martin’s duck and green peas -to-morrow.’ - -‘And crusted port. If we go, it must be Monday.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI. - -‘PRECIOSA.’ - - -EVE had lost something of her light-heartedness; in spite of herself -she was made to think, and grave alternatives were forced upon her -for decision. The careless girl was dragged in opposite directions by -two men, equally selfish and conceited, the one prosaic and clever, -the other æsthetic but ungifted; each actuated by the coarsest -self-seeking, neither regarding the happiness of the child. Martin had -a passionate fancy for her, and had formed some fantastic scheme of -turning her into a singer and an actress; and Mr. Coyshe thought of -pushing his way in town by the aid of her money. - -Eve was without any strength of character, but she had obstinacy, and -where her pleasure was concerned she could be very obstinate. Hitherto -she had not been required to act with independence. She had submitted -in most things to the will of her father and sister, but then their -will had been to give her pleasure and save her annoyance. She had -learned always to get her own way by an exhibition of peevishness if -crossed. - -Now she had completely set her heart on going to Plymouth. She was -desirous to know something about her mother, as her father might not be -questioned concerning her; and she burned with eagerness to see a play. -It would be hard to say which motive predominated. One alone might have -been beaten down by Barbara’s opposition, but two plaited in and out -together made so tough a string that it could not be broken. Barbara -did what she could, but her utmost was unavailing. Eve had sufficient -shrewdness to insist on her desire to see and converse with a friend of -her mother, and to say as little as possible about her other motive. -Barbara could appreciate one, she would see no force in the other. - -Eve carried her point. Barbara consented to her going under the escort -of Jasper. They were to ride to Beer Ferris and thence take boat. -They were not to stay in Plymouth, but return the same way. The tide -was favourable; they would probably be home by three o’clock in the -morning, and Barbara would sit up for them. It was important that Mr. -Jordan should know nothing of the expedition, which would greatly -excite him. As for Martin, she would provide for him, though she could -not undertake to find him duck and green peas and crusted port every -day. - -One further arrangement was made. Eve was engaged to Mr. Coyshe, -therefore the young doctor was to be invited to join Eve and Jasper at -Beer Alston, and accompany her to Plymouth. A note was despatched to -him to prepare him, and to ask him to have a boat in readiness, and to -allow of the horses being put in his stables. - -Thus, everything was settled, if not absolutely in accordance with -Eve’s wishes—she objected to the company of the doctor—yet sufficiently -so to make her happy. Her happiness became greater as the time -approached for her departure, and when she left she was in as joyful a -mood as any in which Barbara had ever seen her. - -Everything went well. The weather was fine, and the air and landscape -pleasant; not that Eve regarded either as she rode to Beer Alston. -There the tiresome surgeon joined her and Jasper, and insisted on -giving them refreshments. Eve was impatient to be on her way again, and -was hardly civil in her refusal; but the harness of self-conceit was -too dense over the doctor’s breast for him to receive a wound from her -light words. - -In due course Plymouth was reached, and, as there was time to spare, -Eve, by her sister’s directions, went to a convent, where were some -nuns of their acquaintance, and stayed there till fetched by the two -young men to go with them to the theatre. Jasper had written before and -secured tickets. - -At last Eve sat in a theatre—the ambition, the dream of her youth was -gratified. She occupied a stall between Jasper and Mr. Coyshe, a place -that commanded the house, but was also conspicuous. - -Eve sat looking speechlessly about her, lost in astonishment at the -novelty of all that surrounded her; the decorations of white and gold, -the crimson curtains, the chandelier of glittering glass-drops, the -crowd of well-dressed ladies, the tuning of the instruments of the -orchestra, the glare of light, were to her an experience so novel that -she felt she would have been content to come all the way for that -alone. That she herself was an object of notice, that opera-glasses -were turned upon her, never occurred to her. Fond as she was of -admiration, she was too engrossed in admiring to think that she was -admired. - -A hush. The conductor had taken his place and raised his wand. Eve was -startled by the sudden lull, and the lowering of the lights. - -Then the wand fell, and the overture began. ‘Preciosa’ had been -performed in London the previous season for the first time, and now, -out of season, it was taken to the provinces. The house was very full. -A military orchestra played. - -Eve knew the overture arranged for the piano, for Jasper had introduced -her to it; she had admired it; but what was a piano arrangement to a -full orchestra? Her eye sparkled, a brilliant colour rushed into her -cheek. This was something more beautiful than she could have conceived. -The girl’s soul was full of musical appreciation, and she had been kept -for seventeen years away from the proper element in which she could -live. - -Then the curtain rose, and disclosed the garden of Don Carcamo at -Madrid. Eve could hardly repress an exclamation of astonishment. She -saw a terrace with marble statues, and a fountain of water playing, the -crystal drops sparkling as they fell. Umbrageous trees on both sides -threw their foliage overhead and met, forming a succession of bowery -arches. Roses and oleanders bloomed at the sides. Beyond the terrace -extended a distant landscape of rolling woodland and corn fields -threaded by a blue winding river. Far away in the remote distance rose -a range of snow-clad mountains. - -Eve held up her hands, drew a long breath and sighed, not out of -sadness, but out of ecstasy of delight. - -Don Fernando de Azevedo, in black velvet and lace, was taking leave of -Don Carcamo, and informing him that he would have left Madrid some days -ago had he not been induced to stay and see Preciosa, the gipsy girl -about whom the town was talking. Then entered Alonzo, the son of Don -Carcamo, enthusiastic over the beauty, talent, and virtue of the maiden. - -Eve listened with eager eyes and ears, she lost not a word, she missed -not a motion. Everything she saw was real to her. This was true Spain, -yonder was the Sierra Nevada. For aught she considered, these were true -hidalgoes. She forgot she was in a theatre, she forgot everything, her -own existence, in her absorption. Only one thought obtruded itself on -her connecting the real with the fictitious. Martin ought to have stood -there as Alonzo, in that becoming costume. - -Then the orchestra played softly, sweetly—she knew the air, drew -another deep inspiration, her flush deepened. Over the stage swept a -crowd of gentlemen and ladies, and a motley throng singing in chorus. -Then came in gipsies with tambourines and castanets, and through the -midst of them Preciosa in a crimson velvet bodice and saffron skirt, -wearing a necklace of gold chains and coins. - -Eve put her hands over her mouth to check the cry of astonishment; the -dress—she knew it—it was that she had found in the chest. It was that, -or one most similar. - -Eve hardly breathed as Preciosa told the fortunes of Don Carcamo and -Don Fernando. She saw the love of Alonzo kindled, and Alonzo she had -identified with Martin. She—she herself was Preciosa. Had she not worn -that dress, rattled that tambourine, danced the same steps? The curtain -fell; the first act was over, and the hum of voices rose. But Eve heard -nothing. Mr. Coyshe endeavoured to engage her in conversation, but in -vain. She was in a trance, lifted above the earth in ecstasy. She was -Preciosa, she lived under a Spanish sun. This was her world, this real -life. No other world was possible henceforth, no other life endurable. -She had passed out of a condition of surprise; nothing could surprise -her more, she had risen out of a sphere where surprise was possible -into one where music, light, colour, marvel were the proper atmosphere. - -The most prodigious marvels occur in dreams and excite no astonishment. -Eve had passed into ecstatic dream. - -The curtain rose, and the scene was forest, with rocks, and the full -moon shining out of the dark blue sky, silvering the trunks of the -trees and the mossy stones. A gipsy camp; the gipsies sang a chorus -with echo. The captain smote with hammer on a stone and bade his men -prepare for a journey to Valencia. The gipsies dispersed, and then -Preciosa appeared, entering from the far background, with the moonlight -falling on her, subduing to low tones her crimson and yellow, holding -a guitar in her hands. She seated herself on a rock, and the moonbeams -played about her as she sang and accompanied herself on her instrument. - - Lone am I, yet am not lonely, - For I see thee, loved and true, - Round me flits thy form, thine only, - Moonlit gliding o’er the dew. - - Wander where I may, or tarry, - Hangs my heart alone on thee, - Ever in my breast I carry - Thoughts that burn and torture me. - - Unattainable and peerless - In my heaven a constant star, - Heart o’erflowing, eyes all tearless, - Gaze I on thee from afar. - -The exquisite melody, the pathos of the scene, the poetry of the words, -were more than Eve could bear, and tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. -Coyshe looked round in surprise; he heard her sob, and asked if she -were tired or unwell. No! she sobbed out of excess of happiness. The -combined beauty of scene and song oppressed her heart with pain, the -pain of delight greater than the heart could contain. - -Eve saw Alonzo come, disguised as a hunter, having abandoned his -father, his rank, his prospects, for love of Preciosa. Was not this -like Martin?—Martin the heroic, the self-sacrificing man who rushed -into peril that he might be at her feet—Martin, now laid up with -rheumatism for her sake. - -She saw the gipsies assemble, their tents were taken down, bales were -collected, all was prepared for departure. Alonzo was taken into the -band and fellowship was sworn. - -The moon had set, but see—what is this? A red light smites betwixt -the trees and kindles the trunks orange and scarlet, the rocks are -also flushed, and simultaneously with a burst, joyous, triumphant, the -whole band sing the chorus of salutation to the rising sun. Preciosa is -exalted on a litter and is borne on the shoulders of the gipsies. The -light brightens, the red blaze pervades, transforms the entire scene, -bathes every actor in fire; the glorious song swells and thrills every -heart, and suddenly, when it seemed to Eve that she could bear no more, -the curtain fell. She sprang to her feet, unconscious of everything -but what she had seen and heard, and the whole house rose with her and -roared its applause and craved for more. - -It is unnecessary for us to follow Eve’s emotions through the entire -drama, and to narrate the plot, to say how that the gipsies arrive -at the castle of Don Fernando where he is celebrating his silver -wedding, how his son Eugenio, by an impertinence offered to Preciosa, -exasperates the disguised Alonzo into striking him, and is arrested, -how Preciosa intercedes, and how it is discovered that she is the -daughter of Don Fernando, stolen seventeen years before. The reader may -possibly know the drama; if he does not, his loss is not much; it is a -drama of little merit and no originality, which would never have lived -had not Weber furnished it with a few scraps of incomparably beautiful -music. - -The curtain fell, the orchestra departed, the boxes were emptying. All -those in the stalls around Eve were in movement. She gave a long sigh -and woke out of her dream, looked round at Jasper, then at Mr. Coyshe, -and smiled; her eyes were dazed, she was not fully awake. - -‘Very decent performance,’ said the surgeon, ‘but we shall see -something better in London.’ - -‘Well, Eve,’ said Jasper, ‘are you ready? I will ask for the manager, -and then we must be pushing home.’ - -‘Home!’ repeated Eve, and repeated it questioningly. - -‘Yes,’ answered Jasper, ‘have you forgotten the row up the river and -the ride before us?’ - -She put her hand to her head. - -‘Oh, Jasper,’ she said, ‘I feel as if I were at home now—here, where I -ought always to have been, and was going again into banishment.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII. - -NOAH’S ARK. - - -JASPER left Eve with Mr. Coyshe whilst he went in quest of the manager. -He had written to Mr. Justice Barret as soon as it was decided that -the visit was to be made, so as to prepare him for an interview, but -there had not been time for a reply. The surgeon was to order a supper -at the inn. A few minutes later Jasper came to them. He had seen the -manager, who was then engaged, but requested that they would shortly -see him in his rooms at the inn. Time was precious, the little party -had a journey before them. They therefore hastily ate their meal, and -when Eve was ready, Jasper accompanied her to the apartments occupied -by the manager. Mr. Coyshe was left over the half-consumed supper, by -no means disposed, as it had to be paid for, to allow so much of it to -depart uneaten. - -Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to the rooms occupied by -the manager and his family, and on opening it was met by a combination -of noises that bewildered, and of odours that suffocated. - -‘Come in, I am glad to see you,’ said a voice; ‘Justice sent word I was -to expect and detain you.’ - -The manager’s wife came forward to receive the visitors. - -She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled hair, cut -short—a head like that of the ‘curly-headed plough-boy.’ Eve could -hardly believe her eyes, this was the real Preciosa, who on the stage -had worn dark flowing hair. The face was good-humoured, simple, but not -clean, for the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed off. It -adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. Also a ring -of white powder lingered on her neck and at the roots of her hair on -her brow. - -‘Come in,’ she said, with a kindly smile that made pleasant dimples -in her cheeks, ‘but take care where you walk. This is my parrot, a -splendid bird, look at his green back and scarlet wing. Awake, old -Poll?’ - -‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ answered the parrot hoarsely, with -the hard eyes fixed on Eve. - -The girl turned cold and drew back. - -‘Look at my Tom,’ said Mrs. Justice Barret, ‘how he races round his -cage.’ She pointed to a squirrel tearing inanely up the wires of a -revolving drum in which he was confined. ‘That is the way in which he -greets my return from the theatre. Mind the cradle! Excuse my dress, -I have been attending to baby.’ She rocked vigorously. ‘Slyboots, he -knows when I come back without opening his peepers. Sucking your thumb -vigorously, are you? I could eat it—I could eat you, you are sweet as -barley-sugar.’ The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms into the -cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it screamed. - -‘What is Jacko about, I wonder,’ said the ex-Preciosa; ‘do observe -him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old woman during a sermon. -I’ll warrant he’s been at more mischief. What do you suppose I have -found him out in? I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when -the time came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished -stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mistrusted Jacko. -As I dare not leave him in this room with baby, I locked him into the -sleeping apartment. Will you believe me? he found what I had concealed. -He plunged into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled -the whole; not only so, but he has left his hair on the sheets, and -whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I do not know. Never mind, -if he is cross I’ll survive it. Now Jacko, how often have I told you -not to bite off the end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, -and we must not be hard on him.’ - -The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. He knew that his -delinquencies were being expatiated on. - -‘You have not seen all my family yet,’ said Mrs. Barret. ‘There is a -box of white mice under the bed in the next room. The darlings are so -tame that they will nestle in my bosom. Do you believe me? I went once -to the theatre, quite forgetting one was there, till I came to dress, I -mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my leads that evening, -I was distracted lest the mouse should get away. I told the prompter to -keep him till I could reclaim the rascal. Come in, dears! Come in!’ -This was shouted, and a boy and girl burst in at the door. - -‘My only darlings, these three,’ said Mrs. Barret, pointing to the -children and the babe. ‘They’ve been having some supper. Did you see -them on the stage? They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your -clothes, pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to-night. I -have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Say them twice over to-morrow -morning instead. What? Hungry still? Here, Jacko! surrender that crust, -and Polly must give up her lump of sugar; bite evenly between you.’ -Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face all smiles, ‘I -love animals! I have been denied a large family, I have only three, -but then—I’ve not been married six years. One must love. What would -the world be without love? We are made to love. Do you agree with me, -Jacko, you mischievous little pig? Now—no biting, Polly! You snapping -also?’ - -Then, to her visitors, ‘Take a chair—that is—take two.’ - -To her children, ‘What, is this manners? Your hat, Bill, and your -frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what other rags of clothes on -the only available chairs.’ She swept the children’s garments upon the -floor, and kicked them under the table. - -‘Now then,’ to the guests, ‘sit down and be comfortable. Justice -will be here directly. Barret don’t much like all these animals, but -Lord bless your souls! I can’t do without them. My canary died,’ she -sniffled and wiped nose and eyes on the back of her hand. ‘He got -poisoned by the monkey, I suspect, who fed him on scraps of green paper -picked off the wall. One must love! But it comes expensive. They make -us pay damages wherever we stay. They charge things to our darlings I -swear they never did. The manager is as meek as Moses, and he bears -like a miller’s ass. Here he comes—I know his sweet step. Don’t look at -me. I’ll sit with my back to you, baby is fidgety.’ Then entered the -manager, Mr. Justice Barret, a quiet man with a pasty face. - -‘That’s him,’ exclaimed the wife, ‘I said so. I knew his step. I -adore him. He is a genius. I love him—even his pimples. One must -love. Now—don’t mind me.’ The good-natured creature carried off her -baby into a corner, and seated herself with it on a stool: the monkey -followed her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the manager, and -seated himself beside her, also with his back to the company, and was -engrossed in her proceedings with the baby. - -Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice his wife’s age, had a -very smooth face shining with soap. His hands were delicate and clean. -He wore polished boots, and white cravat, and a well-brushed black -frock-coat. How he managed in a menagerie of children and animals to -keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company. - -‘O Barret dear!’ exclaimed his lady, looking over her shoulder, and the -monkey turned its head at the same time. ‘I’ve had a jolly row with the -landlady over that sheet to which I set fire.’ - -‘My dear,’ said the manager, ‘how often have I urged you not to learn -your part on the bed with the candle by your side or in your hand? You -will set fire to your precious self some day.’ - -‘About the sheet, Barret,’ continued his wife; ‘I’ve paid for it, and -have torn it into four. It will make pocket-handkerchiefs for you, -dear.’ - -‘Rather large?’ asked the manager deferentially. - -‘Rather, but that don’t matter. Last longer before coming to the wash, -and so save money in the end.’ - -The manager was now at length able to reach and shake hands with Eve -and Jasper. - -‘Bless me, my dear child,’ he said to the former, ‘you remind me -wonderfully of your mother. How is she? I should like to see her again. -A sad pity she ever gave up the profession. She had the instincts of an -artiste in her, but no training, horribly amateurish; that, however, -would rub off.’ - -‘She is dead,’ answered Eve. ‘Did you not know that?’ - -‘Dead!’ exclaimed the manager. ‘Poor soul! so sweet, so simple, so -right-minded. Dead, dead! Ah me! the angels go to heaven and the -sinners are left. Did she remain with your father, or go home to her -own parents?’ - -‘I thought,’ said Eve, much agitated, ‘that you could have told me -concerning her.’ - -‘I!’ Mr. Justice Barret opened his eyes wide. ‘I!’ - -‘My dear!’ called Mrs. Barret, ‘will you be so good as to throw me over -my apron. I am dressing baby for the night, and heaven alone knows -where his little night-shirt is. I’ll tie him up in this apron.’ ‘Does -your mother know you’re out?’ asked the parrot with its head on one -side, looking at Eve. - -‘I think,’ said Jasper, ‘it would be advisable for me to have a private -talk with you, Mr. Barret, if you do not mind walking with me in -the square, and then Miss Eve Jordan can see you after. Our time is -precious.’ - -‘By all means,’ answered the manager, ‘if Miss Jordan will remain with -my wife.’ - -‘O yes,’ said Eve, looking at the parrot; she was alarmed at the bird. - -‘Do not be afraid of Poll,’ said Mr. Barret. Then to his wife, ‘Sophie! -I don’t think it wise to tie up baby as you propose. He might be -throttled. We are going out. Look for the night dress, and let me have -the apron again for Polly.’ - -At once the article required rushed like a rocket through the air, and -struck the manager on the breast. - -‘There,’ said he, ‘I will cover Polly, and she will go to sleep and -talk no more.’ - -Then the manager and Jasper went out. - -‘Now,’ said the latter, ‘in few words I beg you to tell me what you -know about the wife of Mr. Jordan of Morwell. She was my sister.’ - -‘Indeed!—and your name? I forget what you wrote.’ - -‘My name is Babb, but that matters nothing.’ - -‘I never knew that of your sister. She would not tell whence she came -or who she was.’ - -‘From your words just now,’ said Jasper, ‘I gather that you are unaware -that she eloped from Morwell with an actor. I could not speak of this -before her daughter.’ - -‘Eloped with an actor!’ repeated the manager. ‘If she did, it was after -I knew her. Excuse me, I cannot believe it. She may have gone home to -her father; he wanted her to return to him.’ - -‘You know that?’ - -‘Of course I do. He came to me, when I was at Tavistock, and learned -from me where she was. He went to Morwell to see her once or twice, to -induce her to return to him.’ - -‘You must be very explicit,’ said Jasper gravely. ‘My sister never came -home. Neither my father nor I know to this day what became of her.’ - -‘Then she must have remained at Morwell. Her daughter says she is dead.’ - -‘She did not remain at Morwell. She disappeared.’ - -‘This is very extraordinary. I will tell you all I know, but that is -not much. She was not with us very long. She fell ill as we were on -our way from Plymouth to Launceston, and we were obliged to leave her -at Morwell, the nearest house, that is some eighteen or nineteen years -ago. She never rejoined us. After a year, or a year and a half, we -were at Tavistock, on our way to Plymouth, from Exeter by Okehampton, -and there her father met us, and I told him what had become of her. I -know that I walked out one day to Morwell and saw her. I believe her -father had several interviews with her, then something occurred which -prevented his meeting her as he had engaged, and he asked me to see her -again and explain his absence. I believe her union with the gentleman -at Morwell was not quite regular, but of that I know nothing for -certain. Anyhow, her father disapproved and would not meet Mr., what -was his name?—O, Jordan. He saw his daughter in private, on some rock -that stands above the Tamar. There also I met her, by his direction. -She was very decided not to leave her child and husband, though sorry -to offend and disobey her father. That is all I know—yes!—I recall the -day—Midsummer Eve, June the twenty-third. I never saw her again.’ - -‘But are you not aware that my father went to Morwell on the next day, -Midsummer Day, and was told that Eve had eloped with you?’ - -‘With me!’ the manager stood still. ‘With me! Nonsense!’ - -‘On the twenty-fourth she was gone.’ - -Mr. Barret shook his head. ‘I cannot understand.’ - -‘One word more,’ said Jasper. ‘You will see Miss Eve Jordan. Do not -tell her that I am her uncle. Do not cast a doubt on her mother’s -death. Speak to her only in praise of her mother as you knew her.’ - -‘This is puzzling indeed,’ said the manager. ‘We have had a party with -us, an amateur, a walking character, who talked of Morwell as if he -knew it, and I told him about the Miss Eve we had left there and her -marriage to the squire. I may have said, “If ever you go there again, -remember me to the lady, supposing her alive, and tell me if the child -be as beautiful as I remember her mother.”’ - -‘There is but one man,’ said Jasper, ‘who holds the key to the mystery, -and he must be forced to disclose.’ - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII. - -IN PART. - - -MR. JORDAN knew more of what went on than Barbara suspected. Jane Welsh -attended to him a good deal, and she took a mean delight in spying into -the actions of her young mistresses, and making herself acquainted with -everything that went on in the house and on the estate. In this she -was encouraged by Mr. Jordan, who listened to what she told him and -became excited and suspicious; and the fact of exciting his suspicions -was encouragement to the maid. The vulgar mind hungers for notoriety, -and the girl was flattered by finding that what she hinted stirred the -crazy mind of the old man. He was a man prone to suspicion, and to -suspect those nearest to him. The recent events at Morwell had made -him mistrust his own children. He could not suppose that Martin Babb -had escaped without their connivance. It was a triumph to the base -mind of Jane to stand closer in her master’s confidence than his own -children, and she used her best endeavours to thrust herself further in -by aggravating his suspicions. - -Barbara was not at ease in her own mind, she was particularly annoyed -to hear that Martin was still in the neighbourhood, on their land; -naturally frank, she was impatient of the constraint laid on her. She -heartily desired that the time would come when concealments might end. -She acknowledged the necessity for concealment, but resented it, and -could not quite forgive Jasper for having forced it upon her. She even -chilled in her manner towards him, when told that Martin was still -a charge. The fact that she was obliged to think of and succour a -man with whom she was not in sympathy, reacted on her relations with -Jasper, and produced constraint. - -That Jane watched her and Jasper, Barbara did not suspect. Honourable -herself, she could not believe that another would act dishonourably. -She under-valued Jane’s abilities. She knew her to be a common-minded -girl, fond of talking, but she made no allowance for that natural -inquisitiveness which is the seedleaf of intelligence. The savage who -cannot count beyond the fingers of one hand is a master of cunning. -There is this difference between men and beasts. The latter bite and -destroy the weakly of their race; men attack, rend, and trample on the -noblest of their species. - -Mr. Jordan knew that Jasper and Eve had gone together for a long -journey, and that Barbara sat up awaiting their return. He had been -left unconsulted, he was uninformed by his daughters, and was very -angry. He waited all next day, expecting something to be said on the -subject to him, but not a word was spoken. - -The weather now changed. The brilliant summer days had suffered an -eclipse. The sky was overcast with grey cloud, and cold north-west -winds came from the Atlantic, and made the leaves of beech and oak -shiver. On the front of heaven, on the face of earth, was written -Ichabod—the glory is departed. What poetry is to the mind, that the sun -is to nature. The sun was withdrawn, and the hard light was colourless, -prosaic. There was nowhere beauty any more. Two chilly damp days had -transformed all. Mr. Jordan shivered in his room. The days seemed to -have shortened by a leap. - -Mr. Jordan, out of perversity, because Barbara had advised his -remaining in, had walked into the garden, and after shivering there a -few minutes had returned to his room, out of humour with his daughter -because he felt she was in the right in the counsel she gave. - -Then Jane came to him, with mischief in her eyes, breathless. ‘Please, -master,’ she said in low tones, looking about her to make sure she was -not overheard. ‘What do y’ think, now! Mr. Jasper have agone to the -wood, carrying a blanket. What can he want that for, I’d like to know. -He’s not thinking of sleeping there, I reckon.’ - -‘Go after him, Jane,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘You are a good girl, more -faithful than my own flesh and blood. Do not allow him to see that he -is followed.’ - -The girl nodded knowingly, and went out. - -‘Now,’ said Mr. Jordan to himself, ‘I’ll come to the bottom of this -plot at last. My own children have turned against me. I will let them -see that I can counter-plot. Though I be sick and feeble and old, I -will show that I am master still in my own house. Who is there?’ - -Mr. Coyshe entered, bland and fresh, rubbing his hands. ‘Well, Jordan,’ -said he—he had become familiar in his address since his engagement—’how -are you? And my fairy Eve, how is she? None the worse for her junket?’ - -‘Junket!’ repeated the old man. ‘What junket?’ - -‘Bless your soul!’ said the surgeon airily. ‘Of course you think only -of curdled milk. I don’t allude to that local dish—or rather bowl—I -mean Eve’s expedition to Plymouth t’other night.’ - -‘Eve—Plymouth!’ - -‘Of course. Did you not know? Have I betrayed a secret? Lord bless me, -why should it be kept a secret? She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no -better, and thought the performance was perfection. I have seen Kemble, -and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial theatre it was well enough.’ - -‘You went with her to the theatre?’ - -‘Yes, I and Mr. Jasper. But don’t fancy she went only out of love of -amusement. She went to see the manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.’ - -‘Barret?’ - -‘That’s the man, because he had known her mother.’ - -Mr. Jordan’s face changed, and his eyes stared. He put up his hands as -though waving away something that hung before him. - -‘And Jasper?’ - -‘Oh, Jasper was with her. They left me to eat my supper in comfort. I -can’t afford to spoil my digestion, and I’m particularly fond of crab. -You cannot eat crab in a scramble and do it justice.’ - -‘Did Jasper see the manager?’ Mr. Jordan’s voice was hollow. His hands, -which he held deprecatingly before him, quivered. He had his elbows on -the arms of his chair. - -‘Oh, yes, of course he did. Don’t you understand? He went with Eve -whilst I finished the crab. It was really a shame; they neither of them -half cleaned out their claws, they were in such a hurry. “Preciosa” was -not amiss, but I preferred crab. One can get plays better elsewhere, -but crab nowhere of superior quality.’ - -Mr. Jordan began to pick at the horse-hair of his chair arm. There -was a hole in the cover and his thin white nervous fingers plucked at -the stuffing, and pulled it out and twisted it and threw it down, and -plucked again. - -‘What—what did Jasper hear?’ he asked falteringly. - -‘How can I tell, Jordan? I was not with them. I tell you, I was eating -my supper quietly, and chewing every mouthful. I cannot bolt my food. -It is bad—unprincipled to do so.’ - -‘They told you nothing?’ - -‘I made no inquiries, and no information was volunteered.’ - -A slight noise behind him made Coyshe turn. Eve was in the doorway. -‘Here she is to answer for herself,’ said the surgeon. ‘Eve, my love, -your father is curious about your excursion to Plymouth, and wants to -know all you heard from the manager.’ - -‘Oh, papa! I ought to have told you!’ stammered Eve. - -‘What did he say?’ asked the old man, half-impatiently, half fearfully. - -‘Look here, governor,’ said the surgeon; ‘it strikes me that you are -not acting straight with the girl, and as she is about to become my -wife, I’ll stand up for her and say what is fitting. I cannot see the -fun of forcing her to run away a day’s journey to pick up a few scraps -of information about her mother, when you keep locked up in your own -head all that she wants to know. I can understand and make allowance -for you not liking to tell her everything, if things were not—as is -reported—quite ecclesiastically square between you and the lady. But -Eve is no longer a child. I intend her to become my wife, and sooner or -later she must know all. Make a clean breast and tell everything.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Jasper entering, ‘the advice is good.’ - -‘You come also!’ exclaimed the old man, firing up and pointing with -trembling fingers to the intruder; ‘_you_ come—_you_ who have led my -children into disobedience? My own daughters are in league against me. -As for this girl, Eve, whom I have loved, who has been to me as the -apple of my eye, she is false to me.’ - -‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ pleaded Eve with tears, ‘do not say this. It is -not true.’ - -‘Not true? Why do you practise concealment from me? Why do you carry -about with you a ring which Mr. Coyshe never gave you? Produce it, I -have been told about it. You have left it on your table and it has been -seen, a ring with a turquoise forget-me-not. Who gave you that? Answer -me if you dare. What is the meaning of these runnings to and fro into -the woods, to the rocks?’ The old man worked himself into wildness and -want of consideration for his child, and for Coyshe to whom she was -engaged. ‘Listen to me, you,’ he turned to the surgeon, holding forth -his stick which he had caught up; ‘you shall judge between us. This -girl, this daughter of mine, has met again and again in secret a man -whom I hate, a man who robbed his own father of money that belonged to -me, a man who has been a jail-bird, an escapedfelon. Is not this so? -Eve, deny it if you can.’ - -‘Father!’ began Eve, trembling, ‘you are ill, you are excited.’ - -‘Answer me!’ he shouted so loud as to make all start, striking at the -same time the floor with his stick, ‘have you not met him in secret?’ - -She hung her head and sobbed. - -‘You aided that man in making his escape when he was in the hands of -the police. I brought the police upon him, and you worked to deliver -him. Answer me. Was it not so?’ - -She faintly murmured, ‘Yes.’ - -This had been but a conjecture of Mr. Jordan. He was emboldened to -proceed, but now Jasper stood forward, grave, collected, facing the -white, wild old man. ‘Mr. Jordan,’ he said, ‘that man of whom you speak -is my brother. I am to blame, not Miss Eve. Actively neither I nor—most -assuredly—your daughter assisted in his escape; but I will not deny -that I was aware he meditated evasion, and he effected it, not through -active assistance given him, but because his guards were careless, and -because I did not indicate to them the means whereby he was certain to -get away, and which I saw and they overlooked.’ - -‘Stand aside,’ shouted the angry old man. He loved Eve more than -he loved anyone else, and as is so often the case when the mind is -unhinged, his suspicion and wrath were chiefly directed against his -best beloved. He struck at Jasper with his stick, to drive him on one -side, and he shrieked with fury to Eve, who cowered and shrank from -him. ‘You have met this felon, and you love him. That is why I have had -such difficulty with you to get your consent to Mr. Coyshe. Is it not -so? Come, answer.’ - -‘I like poor Martin,’ sobbed Eve. ‘I forgive him for taking my money; -it was not his fault.’ - -‘See there! she confesses all. Who gave you that ring with the blue -stones of which I have been told? It did not belong to your mother. Mr. -Coyshe never gave it you. Answer me at once or I will throw my stick -at you. Who gave you that ring?’ - -The surgeon, in his sublime self-conceit, not for a moment supposing -that any other man had been preferred to himself, thinking that Mr. -Jordan was off his head, turned to Eve and said in a low voice, ‘Humour -him. It is safest. Say what he wishes you to say.’ - -‘Martin gave me the ring,’ she answered, trembling. - -‘How came you one time to be without your mother’s ring? How came you -at another to be possessed of it? Explain that.’ - -Eve threw herself on her knees with a cry. - -‘Oh, papa! dear papa! ask me no more questions.’ - -‘Listen all to me,’ said Mr. Jordan, in a loud hard voice. He rose -from his chair, resting a hand on each arm, and heaving himself into -an upright position. His face was livid, his eyes burned like coals, -his hair bristled on his head, as though electrified. He came forward, -walking with feet wide apart, and with his hands uplifted, and stood -over Eve still kneeling, gazing up at him with terror. - -‘Listen to me, all of you. I know more than any of you suppose. I spy -where you are secret. That man who robbed me of my money has lurked -in this neighbourhood to rob me of my child. Shall I tell you who he -is, this felon, who stole from his father? He is her mother’s brother, -Eve’s uncle.’ - -Eve stared with blank eyes into his face, Martin—her uncle! She uttered -a cry and covered her eyes. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIX. - -THE OLD GUN. - - -MR. JORDAN was alone in his room. Evening had set in, the room was not -only chilly, it was dark. He sat in his leather-backed leather-armed -chair with his stick in his hands,—in both hands, held across him, and -now and then he put the stick up to his mouth and gnawed at it in the -middle. At others he made a sudden movement, slipping his hand down to -the ferule and striking in the air with the handle at the black spots -which floated in the darkness, of a blackness most intense. He was -teased by them, and by his inability to strike them aside. His stick -went through them, as through ink, and they closed again when cut, and -drifted on through his circle of vision unhurt, undisturbed. - -Mr. Coyshe was gone; he had ordered the old man to be left as much in -quiet as might be, and he had taken a boy from the farm with him on a -horse, to bring back a soothing draught which he promised to send. Mr. -Jordan had complained of sleeplessness, his nerves were evidently in a -high and perilous state of tension. Before he left, Mr. Coyshe had said -to Barbara, ‘Keep an eye on your father, there is irritation somewhere. -He talks in an unreasoning manner. I will send him something to compose -him, and call again to-morrow. In the meantime,’ he coughed, ‘I—I—would -not allow him to shave himself.’ - -Barbara’s blood curdled. ‘You do not think—’ She was unable to finish -her sentence. - -‘Do as I say, and do not allow him to suppose himself watched.’ - -Now Barbara acted with unfortunate indiscretion. Knowing that her -father was suspicious of her, and complained of her observing him, -knowing also that his suspicions extended to Jasper whom he disliked, -knowing also that he had taken a liking for Jane, she bade Jane remain -about her father, and not allow him to be many minutes unwatched. - -Jane immediately went to the old gentleman, and told him the -instructions given her. ‘And—please your honour,’ she crept close to -him, ‘I’ve seen him. He is on the Raven Rock. He has lighted a fire and -is warming himself. I think it be the very man that was took here, but -I can’t say for certain, as I didn’t see the face of him as was took, -nor of him on the Rock, but they be both men, and much about a height.’ - -‘Jane! Is Joseph anywhere about?’ - -‘No sir,—not nigher than Tavistock.’ - -‘Go to him immediately. Bid him collect what men he can, and surround -the fellow and secure him.’ - -‘But, your honour! Miss Barbara said I was to watch you as a cat -watches a mouse.’ - -‘Who is master here, I or she? I order you to go; and if she is angry -I will protect you against her. I am to be watched, am I? By my own -children? By my servant? This is more than I can bear. The whole world -is conspiring against me. How can I trust anyone—even Jane? How can I -say that the police were not bribed before to let him go? And they may -be bribed again. Trust none but thyself,’ he muttered, and stood up. - -‘Please, master,’ said Jane, ‘you may be certain I will do what you -want. I’m not like some folks, as is unnatural to their very parents. -Why, sir! what do y’ think? As I were a coming in, who should run by -me, looking the pictur’ of fear, but Miss Eve. And where do y’ think -her runned? Why, sir—I watched her, and her went as fast as a leaping -hare over the fields towards the Raven Rock—to where he be. Well, I’m -sure I’d not do that. I don’t mind a-going to love feasts in chapel -with Joseph, but I wouldn’t go seeking him in a wood. Some folks have -too much self-respect for that, I reckon.’ She muttered this looking up -at the old man, uncertain how he would take it. - -‘Go,’ said he. ‘Leave me—go at once.’ - -Presently Barbara came in, and found her father alone. - -‘What, no one with you, papa?’ - -‘No—I want to be alone. Do you grudge me quiet? Must I live under a -microscope? Must I have everything I do marked, every word noted? Why -do you peer in here? Am I an escaped felon to be guarded? Am I likely -to break out? Will you leave me? I tell you I do not want you here. I -desire solitude. I have had you and Coyshe and Eve jabbering here till -my head spins and my temples are bursting. Leave me alone.’ Then, with -the craftiness of incipient derangement, he said, ‘I have had two—three -bad nights, and want sleep. I was dozing in my chair when Jane came in -to light a fire. I sent her out. Then, when I was nodding off again, -I heard cook or Jasper tramping through the hall. That roused me, and -now when I hoped to compose myself again, you thrust yourself upon me; -are you all in a league to drive me mad, by forbidding me sleep? That -is how Hopkins, the witch-finder, got the poor wretches to confess. -He would not suffer them to sleep, and at last, in sheer madness and -hunger for rest, they confessed whatever was desired of them. You want -to force something out of me. That is why you will not let me sleep.’ - -‘Papa dear, I shall be so glad if you can sleep. I promise you shall be -left quite alone for an hour.’ - -‘O—an hour! limited to sixty minutes.’ - -‘Dear papa, till you rap on the wall, to intimate that you are awake.’ - -‘You will not pry and peer?’ - -‘No one shall come near you. I will forbid everyone the hall, lest a -step on the pavement should disturb you.’ - -‘What are you doing there?’ - -‘Taking away your razor, papa.’ - -Then he burst into a shrill, bitter laugh—a laugh that shivered through -her heart. He said nothing, but remained chuckling in his chair. - -‘I dare say Jasper will sharpen them for you, papa, he is very kind,’ -said Barbara, ashamed of her dissimulation. So it came about that the -old half-crazy squire was left in the gathering gloom entirely alone -and unguarded. Nothing could do him more good than a refreshing sleep, -Barbara argued, and went away to her own room, where she lit a candle, -drew down her blind, and set herself to needlework. - -She had done what she could. The pantry adjoined the room of her -father. Jane would hear if he knocked or called. She did not know that -Jane was gone. - -Ignatius Jordan sat in the armchair, biting at his stick, or beating -in the air with it at the blots which troubled his vision. These black -spots took various shapes; sometimes they were bats, sometimes falling -leaves. Then it appeared to him as if a fluid that was black but with a -crimson glow in it as of a subdued hidden fire was running and dripped -from ledge to ledge—invisible ledges they were—in the air before him. -He put his stick out to touch the stream, and then it ran along the -stick and flowed on his hand and he uttered a cry, because it burned -him. He held his hand up open before him, and thought the palm was -black, but with glowing red veins intersecting the blackness, and he -touched the lines with the finger of his left hand. - -‘The line of Venus,’ he said, ‘strong at the source, fiery and broken -by that cross cut—the line of life—long, thin, twisted, tortured, -nowhere smooth, and here—What is this?—the end.’ - -Then he looked at the index finger of his left hand, the finger that -had traced the lines, and it seemed to be alight or smouldering with -red fire. - -He heard a strange sound at the window, a sound shrill and unearthly, -close as in his ear, and yet certainly not in the room. He held his -breath and looked round. He could see nothing through the glass but the -grey evening sky, no face looking in and crying at the window. What -was it? As he looked it was repeated. In his excited condition of mind -he did not seek for a natural explanation. It was a spirit call urging -him on. It was silent. Then again repeated. Had he lighted the candle -and examined the glass he would have seen a large snail crawling up -the pane, creating the sound by the vibration of the glass as it drew -itself along. - -Then Mr. Jordan rose out of his chair, and looking cautiously from side -to side and timorously at the window whence the shrill sound continued, -he unlocked a cupboard in the panelling and drew from it powder and -shot. - -Barbara had taken away his razors. She feared lest he should do himself -an injury; but though he was weary of his life, he had no thought -of hastening his departure from it. His mind was set with deadly -resolution of hate on Martin—Martin, that man who had robbed him, who -escaped from him as often as he was taken. Everyone was in league to -favour Martin. No one was to be trusted to punish him. He must make -sure that the man did not escape this time. This time he would rely -on no one but himself. He crossed the room with soft step, opened the -door, and entered the hall. There he stood looking about him. He could -hear a distant noise of servants talking in the kitchen, but no one was -near, no eye observed him. Barbara, true to her promise, was upstairs, -believing him asleep. The hall was dark, but not so dark that he could -not distinguish what he sought. Some one passed with a light outside, -a maid going to the washhouse. The light struck through the transomed -window of the hall, painting a black cross against the wall opposite, -a black cross that travelled quickly and fell on the old man, creeping -along to the fireplace, holding the wall. He remembered the Midsummer -Day seventeen years ago when he had stood there against that wall with -arms extended in the blaze of the setting sun as a crucified figure -against the black shadow of the cross. His life had been one long -crucifixion ever since, and his cross a shadow. Then he stood on a hall -chair and took down from its crooks an old gun. - -‘Seventeen years ago,’ he muttered. ‘My God! it failed not then, may it -not fail me now!’ - - - - -CHAPTER L. - -BY THE FIRE. - - -MARTIN was weary of the woodman’s hut, as he was before weary of the -mine. Watt had hard work to pacify him. His rheumatism was better. -Neither Jasper nor Walter could decide how far the attack was real and -how far simulated. Probably he really suffered, and exaggerated his -sufferings to provoke sympathy. - -Whilst the weather was summery he endured his captivity, for he could -lie in the sun on a hot rock and smoke or whistle, with his hands in -his pockets, and Martin loved to lounge and be idle; but when the -weather changed, he became restive, ill-humoured, and dissatisfied. -What aggravated his discontent was a visit from Barbara, whom he found -it impossible to impress with admiration for his manly beauty and pity -for his sorrows. - -‘That girl is a beast,’ he said to Walter, when she was gone. ‘I -really could hardly be civil to her. A perfect Caliban, devoid of -taste and feeling. Upon my word some of our fellow-beings are without -humanity. I could see through that person at a glance. She is made up -of selfishness. If there be one quality most repulsive to me, that is -it—selfishness. I do not believe the creature cast a thought upon me, -my wants, my sufferings, my peril. Watt, if she shows her ugly face -here again, stand against the door, and say, “Not at home.”’ - -‘Dear Martin, we will go as soon as you are well enough to leave.’ - -‘Whither are we to go? I cannot join old Barret and his wife and -monkeys and babies and walking-sticks of actors, as long as he is in -the county. I would go to Bristol or Bath or Cheltenham if I had money, -but these miserly Jordans will not find me any. They want to drive me -away without first lining my pocket. I know what was meant by those -cold slabs of mutton, to-day. It meant, go away. I wait till they give -me money.’ - -‘Dear Martin, you must not be inconsiderate.’ - -‘I glory in it. What harm comes of it? It is your long-headed, prudent -prophets who get into scrapes and can’t get out of them again. I never -calculate; I act on impulse, and that always brings me right.’ - -‘Not always, Martin, or you would not be here.’ - -‘O, yes, even here. When the impulse comes on me to go, I shall go, and -you will find I go at the right time. If that Miss Jordan comes here -again with her glum ugly mug, I shall be off. Or Jasper, looking as if -the end of the world were come. I can’t stand that. See how cleverly I -got away from Prince’s Town.’ - -‘I helped you, Martin.’ - -‘I do not pretend that I did all myself. I did escape, and a -brilliantly executed manœuvre it was. I thought I was caught in a cleft -stick when I dropped on the party of beaks at the “Hare and Hounds,” -but see how splendidly I got away. I do believe, Watt, I’ve missed my -calling, and ought to have been a general in the British army.’ - -‘But, dear Martin, generals have to scheme other things beside running -away.’ - -‘None of your impudence, you jackanapes. I tell you I do _not_ scheme. -I act on the spur of the moment. If I had lain awake a week planning I -could have done nothing better. The inspiration comes to me the moment -I require it. Your vulgar man always does the wrong thing when an -emergency arises. By heaven, Watt! this is a dog’s life I am leading, -and not worth living. I am shivering. The damp worms into one’s bones. -I shall go out on the Rock.’ - -‘O, Martin, stay here. It is warmer in this hut. A cold wind blows.’ - -‘It is midwinter here, and can’t be more Siberia-like out there. I am -sick of the smell of dry leaves. I am tired of looking at withered -sticks. The monotony of this place is unendurable. I wish I were back -in prison.’ - -‘I will play my violin to amuse you,’ said the boy. - -‘Curse your fiddle, I do not want to have that squeaking in my ears; -besides, it is sure to be out of tune with the damp, and screw up as -you may, before you have gone five bars it is flat again. Why has Eve -not been here to tell me of what she saw in Plymouth?’ - -‘My dear Martin, you must consider. She dare not come here. You cannot -keep open house, and send round cards of invitation, with “Mr. Martin -Babb at home.”’ - -‘I don’t care. I shall go on the Rock, and have a fire.’ - -‘A fire!’ exclaimed Watt, aghast. - -‘Why not? I am cold, and my rheumatism is worse. I won’t have rheumatic -fever for you or all the Jordans and Jaspers in Devonshire.’ - -‘I entreat you, be cautious. Remember you are in hiding. You have -already been twice caught.’ - -‘Because on both occasions I ran into the hands of the police. The -first time I attempted no concealment. I did not think my father would -have been such a—such a pig as to send them after me. I’ll tell you -what, my boy, there is no generosity and honour anywhere. They are like -the wise teeth that come, not to be used, but to go, and go painfully.’ -Then he burst out of the hut, and groaning and cursing scrambled -through the coppice to the Raven Rock. - -Walter knew too well that when his brother had resolved on anything, -however outrageous, it was in vain for him to attempt dissuasion. He -therefore accompanied him up the steep slope and through the bushes, -lending him a hand, and drawing the boughs back before him, till he -reached the platform of rock. - -The signs of autumn were apparent everywhere. Two days before they -had not been visible. The bird-cherry was turning; the leaves of the -dogwood were royal purple, and those at the extremity of the branches -were carmine. Here and there umbelliferous plants had turned white; all -the sap was withdrawn, they were bleached at the prospect of the coming -decay of nature. The heather had donned its pale flowers; but there was -no brightness in the purples and pinks, they were the purples and pinks -not of sunflush, but of chill. A scent of death pervaded the air. The -foxgloves had flowered up their long spires to the very top, and only -at the very top did a feeble bell or two bloom whilst the seeds ripened -below. No butterflies, no moths even were about. The next hot day the -scarlet admirals would be out, but now they hung with folded wings -downwards, exhibiting pepper and salt and no bright colour under the -leaves, waiting and shivering. - -‘Everything is doleful,’ said Martin, standing on the platform and -looking round. ‘Only one thing lacks to make the misery abject, and -that is rain. If the clouds drop, and the water leaks into my den, I’ll -give myself up, and secure a dry cell somewhere—then Jasper and the -Jordans may make the best of it. I’m not going to become a confirmed -invalid to save Jasper’s pride, and help on his suit to that dragon of -Wantley. If he thinks it against his interest that I should be in gaol, -I’ll go back there. I’m not eager to have that heap of superciliousness -as a sister-in-law, Walter, so collect sticks and fern that I may have -a fire.’ - -‘Martin, do not insist on this; the light and smoke will be seen.’ - -‘Who is there to see? This rock is only visible from Cornwall, and -there is no bridge over the Tamar for some miles up the river. Who will -care to make a journey of some hours to ask why a fire has been kindled -on the Raven Rock? Look behind, the trees screen this terrace, no one -at Morwell will see. The hills and rocks fold on the river and hide us -from all habitable land. Do not oppose me; I will have a fire.’ - -‘O, Martin,’ said the boy, ‘you throw on me all the responsibility -of caring for your safety, and you make my task a hard one by your -thoughtlessness.’ - -‘I am so unselfish,’ said Martin gravely. ‘I never do consider myself. -I can’t help it, such is my nature.’ - -Walter reluctantly complied with his brother’s wish. The boy had lost -his liveliness. The mischief and audacity were driven out of him by the -responsibility that weighed on him. - -Abundance of fuel was to be had. The summer had been hot, and little -rain had fallen. Wood had been cut the previous winter, and bundles of -faggots lay about, that had not been removed and stacked. - -Before long the fire was blazing, and Martin crouched at it warming his -hands and knees. His face relaxed whilst that of Walter became lined -with anxiety. As he was thus seated, Jasper came on him carrying a -blanket. He was dismayed at what his brother had done, and reproached -him. - -Martin shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is very well for you in a dry -house, on a feather bed and between blankets, but very ill for poor -me, condemned to live like a wild beast. You should have felt my hands -before I had a fire to thaw them at, they were like the cold mutton I -had for my dinner.’ - -‘Martin, you must put that fire out. You have acted with extreme -indiscretion.’ - -‘Spare me your reproaches; I know I am indiscreet. It is my nature, as -it lies in the nature of a lion to be noble, and of a dog to be true.’ - -‘Really,’ said Jasper, hotly, disturbed out of his usual equanimity by -the folly of his brother, ‘really, Martin, you are most aggravating. -You put me to great straits to help you, and strain to the utmost my -relations to the Jordan family. I do all I can—more than I ought—for -you, and you wantonly provoke danger. Who but you would have had -the temerity to return to this neighbourhood after your escape and -my accident! Then—why do you remain here? I cannot believe in your -illness. Your lack of common consideration is the cause of incessant -annoyance to your friends. That fire shall go out.’ He went to it -resolutely, and kicked it apart, and threw some of the flaming oak -sticks over the edge of the precipice. - -‘I hope you are satisfied now,’ said Martin sulkily. ‘You have spoiled -my pleasure, robbed me of my only comfort, and have gained only -this—that I wash my hands of you, and will leave this place to-night. I -will no longer remain near you—inhuman, unbrotherly as you are.’ - -‘I am very glad to hear that you are going,’ answered Jasper. ‘You -shall have my horse. That horse is my own, and he will carry you away. -Send Walter for it when you like. I will see that the stable-door is -open, and the saddle and bridle handy. The horse is in a stable near -the first gate, away from the house, and can be taken unobserved.’ - -‘You are mightily anxious to be rid of me,’ sneered Martin. ‘And this -is a brother!’ - -‘I had brought you a blanket off my own bed, because I supposed you -were cold.’ - -‘I will not have it,’ said Martin sharply. ‘If you shiver for want of -your blanket I shall be blamed. Your heart will overflow with gall -against poor me. Keep your blanket to curl up in yourself. I shall -leave to-night. I have too much proper pride to stay where I am not -wanted, with a brother who begrudges me a scrap of fire.’ - -Jasper held out his hand. ‘I must go back at once,’ he said. ‘If you -leave to-night it may be years before we meet again. Come, Martin, you -know me better than your words imply. Do not take it ill that I have -destroyed your fire. I think only of your safety. Give me your hand, -brother; your interest lies at my heart.’ - -Martin would not touch the proffered hand, he folded his arms and -turned away. Jasper looked at him, long and sadly, but Martin would not -relent, and he left. - -‘Get the embers together again,’ ordered Martin. ‘Under the Scottish -fir are lots of cones full of resin; pile them on the fire, and make a -big blaze. Let Jasper see it. I will show him that I am not going to be -beaten by his insolence.’ - -‘He may have been rough, but he was right,’ said Watt. - -‘Oh! you also turn against me! A viper I have cherished in my bosom!’ - -The boy sighed; he dare no longer refuse, and he sorrowfully gathered -the scattered fire together, fanned the embers, applied to them bits -of dry fern, then fir cones, and soon a brilliant jet of yellow flame -leaped aloft. - -Martin raised himself to his full height that the fire might illuminate -him from head to foot, and so he stood, with his arms folded, thinking -what a fine fellow he was, and regretting that no appreciative eye was -there to see him. - -‘What a splendid creature man is!’ said he to himself or Walter. ‘So -great in himself; and yet, how little and mean he becomes through -selfishness! I pity Jasper—from my heart I pity him. I am not -angry—only sorry.’ - - - - -CHAPTER LI. - -A SHOT. - - -‘OF all things I could have desired—the best!’ exclaimed Martin Babb -as Eve came from the cover of the wood upon the rocky floor. She was -out of breath, and could not speak. She put both hands on her breast to -control her breathing and quiet her throbbing heart. - -Martin drew one foot over the other, poising it on the toe, and allowed -the yellow firelight to play over his handsome face and fine form. The -appreciative eye was there. ‘Lovelier than ever!’ exclaimed Martin. -‘Preciosa come to the forest to Alonzo, not Alonzo to Preciosa.’ - - The forest green! - Where warm the summer sheen; - And echo calls, - And calls—through leafy halls. - Hurrah for the life ‘neath the greenwood tree! - My horn and my dogs and my gun for me! - Trarah! Trarah! Trarah!’ - -He sang the first verse of the gipsy chorus with rich tones. He had a -beautiful voice, and he knew it. - -The song had given her time to obtain breath, and she said, ‘Oh, -Martin, you must go—you must indeed!’ - -‘Why, my Preciosa?’ - -‘My father knows all—how, I cannot conjecture, but he does know, and he -will not spare you.’ - -‘My sweet flower,’ said Martin, not in the least alarmed, ‘the old -gentleman cannot hurt me. He cannot himself fetch the dogs of justice -and set them on me; and he cannot send for them without your consent. -There is plenty of time for me to give them the slip. All is arranged. -To-night I leave on Jasper’s horse, which he is good enough to lend me.’ - -‘You do not know my father. He is not alone—Mr. Coyshe is with him. I -cannot answer for what he may do.’ - -‘Hah!’ said Martin, ‘I see! Jealousy may spur him on. He knows that we -are rivals. Watt, be off with you after the horse. Perhaps it would be -better if I were to depart. I would not spare that pill-compounding -Coyshe were he in my power, and I cannot expect him to spare me.’ He -spoke, and his action was stagy, calculated to impress Eve. - -‘My dear Walter,’ said Martin, ‘go to Morwell some other way than the -direct path; workmen may be about—the hour is not so late.’ - -The boy did not wait for further orders. - -‘You need not fear for me,’ said the escaped convict. ‘Even if that -despicable roll-pill set off to collect men, I would escape him. I have -but to leave this spot, and I am safe. I presume not one of my pursuers -will be mounted.’ - -‘Why have you a fire here?’ - -‘The fire matters nothing,’ said Martin grandly; ‘indeed’—he collected -more fircones and threw them on—’indeed, if the form of the hare is to -be discovered, let it be discovered warm. The hunters will search the -immediate neighbourhood, and the hare will be flying far, far away.’ - -‘You know best, of course; but it seems to me very dangerous.’ - -‘I laugh at danger!’ exclaimed Martin, throwing a faggot on the flames. -‘I disport in danger as the seamew in the storm.’ He unfolded his arms -and waved them over the fire as a bird flapping its wings. - -‘And now,’ he went on, ‘I leave you—_you_—to that blood-letter. Why do -I trouble myself about my own worthless existence, when you are about -to fall a prey to his ravening jaw? No, Eve, that must never be.’ - -‘Martin,’ said Eve, ‘I must really go home. I only ran here to warn you -to be off, and to tell you something. My father has just said that my -mother was your sister.’ - -He looked at her in silence for some moments in real astonishment—so -real that he dropped his affected attitude and expression of face. - -‘Can this be possible!’ - -‘He declared before Mr. Coyshe and me that it was so.’ - -‘You have the same name as my lost sister,’ said Martin. ‘Her I hardly -remember. She ran away from home when I was very young, and what became -of her we never heard. If my father knew, he was silent about his -knowledge. I am sure Jasper did not know.’ - -‘And Mr. Barret, the manager, did not know either,’ added Eve. ‘When my -mother was with him she bore a feigned name, and said nothing about her -parents, nor told where was her home.’ - -Then Martin recovered himself and laughed. - -‘Why, Eve,’ said he, ‘if this extraordinary story be true, I am your -uncle and natural protector. This has settled the matter. You shall -never have that bolus-maker, leech-applier, Coyshe. I forbid it. I -shall stand between you and the altar of sacrifice. I extend my wing, -and you take refuge under it. I throw my mantle over you and assure you -of my protection. The situation is really—really quite dramatic.’ - -‘Do not stand so near the edge of the precipice,’ pleaded Eve. - -‘I always stand on the verge of precipices, but never go over,’ he -answered. ‘I speak metaphorically. Now, Eve, the way is clear. You -shall run away from home as did your mother, and you shall run away -with me. Remember, I am your natural protector.’ - -‘I cannot—I cannot indeed.’ Eve shrank back. - -‘I swear you shall,’ said Martin impetuously. ‘It may seem strange that -I, who am in personal danger myself, should consider you: but such is -my nature—I never regard self when I can do an heroic action. I say, -Eve, you shall go with me. I am a man with a governing will, to which -all must stoop. You have trifled with the doctor and with me. I hate -that man though I have never seen him. I would he were here and I would -send him, spectacles and all——’ - -‘He does not wear spectacles.’ - -‘Do not interrupt. I speak symbolically. Spectacles and all, I repeat, -with his bottles of leeches, and pestle and mortar, and pills and -lotions, over the edge of this precipice into perdition. Good heavens! -if I leave and you remain, I shall be coming back—I cannot keep away. -If I escape, it must be with you or not at all. You have a horse of -your own: you shall ride with me. You have a purse: fill it and bring -it in your pocket. Diamonds, silver spoons—anything.’ - -She was too frightened to know what to say. He, coward and bully as -he was, saw his advantage, and assumed the tone of bluster. ‘Do you -understand me? I will not be trifled with. The thing is settled: you -come with me.’ - -‘I cannot—indeed I cannot,’ said Eve despairingly. - -‘You little fool! Think of what you saw in the theatre. That is the -proper sphere for you, as it is for me. You were born to live on -the stage. I am glad you have told me what became of my sister. The -artistic instinct is in us. The fire of genius is in our hearts. You -cannot drag out life in such a hole as this: you must come into the -world. It was so with your mother. Whose example can you follow better -than that of a mother?’ - -‘My father would——’ - -‘Your father will not be surprised. What is born in the bone comes -out in the flesh. If your mother was an actress—you must be one also. -Compare yourself with your half-sister. Is there soul in that mass -of commonplace? Is there fire in that cake? Her mother, you may be -certain, was a pudding—a common vulgar suet-pudding. We beings of -Genius belong to another world, and we must live in that world or -perish. It is settled. You ride with me to-night. I shall introduce you -to the world of art, and you will soon be its most brilliant star.’ - -‘Hark!’ exclaimed Eve, starting. ‘I heard something stir.’ - -Both were silent, and listened. They stood opposite each other, near -the edge of the precipice. The darkness had closed in rapidly. The -cloudy sky cut off the last light of day. Far, far below, the river -cast up at one sweep a steely light, but for the most part of its -course it was lost in the inky murkiness of the shadows of mountain, -forest, and rock. - -Away at a distance of several miles, on the side of the dark dome of -Hingston Hill, a red star was glimmering—the light from a miner’s or -moorman’s cabin. The fire that flickered on the platform cast flashes -of gold on the nearest oak boughs, but was unable to illumine the gulf -of darkness that yawned under the forest trees. - -Martin stood facing the wood, with his back to the abyss, and the -light irradiated his handsome features. Eve timidly looked at him, and -thought how noble he seemed. - -‘Was it the sound of a horse’s hoof you heard?’ asked Martin. ‘Walter -is coming with Jasper’s horse.’ - -‘I thought a bush moved,’ answered Eve, ‘and that I heard a click.’ - -‘It is nothing,’ said Martin, ‘nothing but an attempt on your part to -evade the force of my argument, to divert the current of my speech. -You women squirm like eels. There is no holding you save by running a -stick through your gills. Mind you, I have decided your destiny. It -will be my pride to make a great actress of you. What applause you will -gain! What a life of merriment you will lead! I shall take a pride -in the thought that I have snatched you away from under the nose of -that doctor. Pshaw!’—he paused—’pshaw! I do not believe that story -about your mother being my sister. Whether she were or not matters -nothing. You, like myself, have a soul, and a soul that cannot live on -a farmyard dungheap. What is that! I hear a foot on the bracken. Can it -be Watt?’ - -He was silent, listening. He began to feel uneasy. Then from behind the -wood came the shrill clangour of a bell. - -‘Something has happened,’ said Eve, in great terror. ‘That is the alarm -bell of our house.’ - -‘My God!’ cried Martin, ‘what is Watt about! He ought to have been -here.’ In spite of his former swagger he became uneasy. ‘Curse him, for -a dawdle! am I going to stick here till taken because he is lazy? That -bell is ringing still.’ It was pealing loud and fast. ‘I shall leave -this rock. If I were taken again I should never escape more. Seven -years! seven years in prison—why, the best part of my life would be -gone, and you—I should see you no more. When I came forth you would be -Mrs. Sawbones. I swear by God that shall not be. Eve! I will not have -it. If I get off, you shall follow me. Hark! I hear the tramp of the -horse.’ - -He threw up his hands and uttered a shout of joy. He ran forward to the -fire, and stood by it, with the full glare of the blazing fircones on -his eager face. - -‘Eve! joy, joy! here comes help. I will make you mount behind me. We -will ride away together. Come, we must meet Watt at the gate.’ - -A crack, a flash. - -Martin staggered back, and put his hand to his breast. Eve fell to her -knees in speechless terror. - -‘Come here,’ he said hoarsely, and grasped her arm. ‘It is too late: I -am struck, I am done for.’ - -A shout, and a man was seen plunging through the bushes. - -‘Eve!’ said Martin, ‘I will not lose you.’ He dragged her two paces in -his arms. All power of resistance was gone from her. ‘That doctor shall -not have you—I’ll spoil that at least.’ He stooped, kissed her lips and -cheek and brow and eyes, and in a moment flung himself, with her in his -arms, over the edge of the precipice into the black abyss. - - - - -CHAPTER LII. - -THE WHOLE. - - -A MOMENT later, only a moment later, and a moment too late, Mr. Jordan -reached the platform, having beaten the branches aside, regardless of -the leaves that lashed his face and the brambles that tore his hands. -Then, when he saw that he was too late, he uttered a cry of despair. He -flung his gun from him, and it went over the edge and fell where it was -never found again. Then he raised his arms over his head and clasped -them, and brought them down on his hair—he wore no hat; and at the -same time his knees gave way, and he fell fainting on his face, with -his arms extended: the wound in his side had reopened, and the blood -burst forth and ran in a red rill towards the fire. - -A few minutes later Jasper came up. Watt was at the gate with the -horse. They had heard the shot, and Jasper had run on. He was followed -quickly by Walter, who had fastened up the horse, unable to endure the -suspense. - -‘Mr. Jordan is shot,’ gasped Jasper, ‘Martin has shot him. Help me. I -must staunch the wound.’ - -‘Not I,’ answered the boy; ‘I care nothing for him. I must find Martin. -Where is he? Gone to the hut? There is no time to be lost. I must find -him—that cursed bell is ringing.’ - -Without another thought for the prostrate man, Walter plunged into the -coppice, and ran down the steep slope towards the woodcutter’s hovel. -It did not occur to Jasper that the shot he had heard proceeded from -the squire’s gun. He knew that Martin was armed. He supposed that he -had seen the old man emerge from the wood, and, supposing him to be one -of his pursuers, had fired at him and made his escape. He knew nothing -of Eve’s visit to the Raven Rock and interview with his brother. - -He turned the insensible man over on his back and discovered, to his -relief, that he was not dead. He tore open his shirt and found that he -was unwounded by any bullet, but that the old self-inflicted wound in -his side had opened and was bleeding freely. He knew how to deal with -this. He took the old man’s shirt and tore it to form a bandage, and -passed it round him and stopped temporarily the ebbing tide. He heard -Walter calling Martin in the wood. It was clear that he had not found -his brother in the hut. Now Jasper understood why the alarm-bell was -ringing. Barbara had discovered that her father had left the house, -and, in fear for the consequences, was summoning the workmen from their -cottages to assist in finding him. - -Watt reappeared in great agitation, and, without casting a look at the -insensible man, said, ‘He is not there, he may be back in the mine. -He may have unlocked the boathouse and be rowing over the Tamar, or -down—no—the tide is out, he cannot get down.’ Then away he went again -into the wood. - -Mr. Jordan lay long insensible. He had lost much blood. Jasper knelt by -him. All was now still. The bell was no longer pealing. No step could -be heard. The bats flitted about the rock; the fire-embers snapped. The -wind sighed and piped among the trees. The fire had communicated itself -to some dry grass, and a tuft flamed up, then a little spluttering -flame crept along from grass haulm and twig to a tuft of heather, -which it kindled, and which flared up. Jasper, kneeling by Mr. Jordan, -watched the progress of the fire without paying it much attention. In -moments of anxiety trifles catch the eye. He dare not leave the old -man. He waited till those who had been summoned by the bell came that -way. - -Presently Ignatius Jordan opened his eyes. ‘Eve!’ he said, and his dim -eyes searched the feebly-illuminated platform. Then he laid his head -back again on the moss and was unconscious or lost in dream—Jasper -could not decide which. Jasper went to the fire and threw on some wood -and collected more. The stronger the flame the more likely to attract -the notice of the searchers. He trod out the fire where it stole, -snakelike, along the withered grass that sprouted out of the cracks -in the surface of the rock. He went to the edge of the precipice, and -listened in hopes of hearing something, he hardly knew what—a sound -that might tell him Walter had found his brother. He heard nothing—no -dip of oars, no rattle of a chain, from the depths and darkness below. -He returned to Mr. Jordan, and saw that he was conscious and recognised -him. The old man signed to him to draw near. - -‘The end is at hand. The blood has nearly all run out. Both are -smitten—both the guilty and the guiltless.’ - -Jasper supposed he was wandering in his mind. - -‘I will tell you all,’ said the old man. ‘You are her brother, and -ought to know.’ - -‘You are speaking of my lost sister Eve!’ said Jasper eagerly. Not a -suspicion crossed his mind that anything had happened to the girl. - -‘I shall soon rejoin her, and the other as well. I would not speak -before because of my child. I could not bear that she should look with -horror on her father. Now it matters not. She has followed her mother. -The need for silence is taken away. Wait! I must gather my strength, I -cannot speak for long.’ - -Then from the depths of darkness below the rock, came the hoot of -an owl. Jasper knew that it was Watt’s signal to Martin—that he was -searching for him still. No answering hoot came. - -‘You went to Plymouth. You saw the manager who had known my Eve. What -did he say?’ - -‘He told me very little.’ - -‘Did he tell you where she was?’ - -‘No. He saw her for the last time on this rock. He had been sent here -by her father, who was unable to keep his appointment.’ - -‘Go on.’ - -‘That is all. She refused to desert you and her child. It is false that -she ran away with an actor.’ - -‘Who said she had? Not I—not I. Her own father, her own father—not I.’ - -‘Then what became of her? Mr. Barret told me he had been to see her -here at Morwell once or twice whilst the company was at Tavistock, and -found her happy. After that my father came and tried to induce her to -return to Buckfastleigh with him.’ - -Mr. Jordan put out his white thin hand and laid it on Jasper’s wrist. - -‘You need say no more. The end is come, and I will tell you all. I -knew that one of the actors came out and saw her—not once only, but -twice—and then her father came, and she met him in secret, here in -the wood, on this rock. I did not know that he whom she met was her -father. I supposed she was still meeting the actor privately. I was -jealous. I loved Eve. Oh, my God! my God!’—he put his hands against his -temples—’when have I ceased to love her?’ - -He did not speak for some moments. Again from the depths, but more -distant, came the to-whoo of the owl. Mr. Jordan removed his hands from -his brow and laid them flat at his side on the rock. - -‘I was but a country gentleman, with humble pursuits—a silent man, who -did not care for society—and I knew that I could not compare with the -witty attractive men of the world. I knew that Morwell was a solitary -place, and that there were few neighbours. I believed that Eve was -unhappy here: I thought she was pining to go back to the merry life -she had led with the players. I thought she was weary of me, and I was -jealous—jealous and suspicious. I watched her, and when I found that -she was meeting someone in secret here on this rock, and that she tried -to hide from me especially that she was doing this, then I went mad—mad -with disappointed love, mad with jealousy. I knew she intended to run -away from me.’ He made a sign with his hand that he could say no more. - -Jasper was greatly moved. At length the mystery was being revealed. -The signs of insanity in the old man had disappeared. He spoke with -emotion, as was natural, but not irrationally. The fact of being -able to tell what had long been consuming his mind relieved it, and -perhaps the blood he had lost reduced the fever which had produced -hallucination. - -Jasper said in as quiet a voice as he could command, ‘My sister loved -you and her child, and had no mind to leave you. She was grateful to -you for your kindness to her. Unfortunately her early life was not a -happy one. My father treated her with harshness and lack of sympathy. -He drove her, by his treatment, from home. Now, Mr. Jordan, I can well -believe that in a fit of jealousy and unreasoning passion you drove my -poor sister away from Morwell—you were not legally married, and could -do so. God forgive you! She did not desert you: you expelled her. Now I -desire to know what became of her. Whither did she go? If she be still -alive, I must find her.’ - -‘She is not alive,’ said Mr. Jordan. - -Then a great horror came over Jasper, and he shrank away. ‘You did not -drive her in a fit of desperation to—to self-destruction?’ - -Mr. Jordan’s earnest eyes were fixed on the dark night sky. He -muttered—the words were hardly audible—_Si iniquitates observaveris, -Domine: Domine, quis sustinebit?_ - -Jasper did not catch what he said, and thinking it was something -addressed to him, he stooped over Mr. Jordan and said, ‘What became of -her? How did she die? Where is she buried?’ - -The old man raised himself on one arm and tried to sit up, and looked -at Jasper with quivering lips; then held his arm over the rock as, -pointing to the abyss, ‘Here!’ he whispered, and fell back on the moss. - -Jasper saw that he had again become unconscious. He feared lest life—or -reason—should desert him before he had told the whole story. - -It was some time before the squire was able to speak. When -consciousness returned he bent his face to Jasper, and there was not -that flicker and wildness in his eyes which Jasper had observed at -other times, and which had made him uneasy. Mr. Jordan looked intently -and steadily at Jasper. - -‘She did not run away from me. I did not drive her from my house as -you think. It can avail nothing to conceal the truth longer. I did not -wish that Eve, my child, should know it; but now—it matters no more. -My fears are over. I have nothing more to disturb me. I care for no -one else. I saw my wife on this rock meet the actor, I watched them. -They did not know that I was spying. I could not hear much of what they -said; I caught only snatches of sentences and stray words. I thought he -was urging her to go with him.’ - -‘No,’ interrupted Jasper, ‘it was not so. He advised her not to return -with her father, but to remain with you.’ - -‘Was it so? I was fevered with love and jealousy. I heard his last -words—she was to be there on the morrow, Midsummer Day, and then to -give the final decision. If I had had my gun I would have shot him -there, but I was unarmed. All that night I was restless. I could not -sleep; I was as one in a death agony. I thought that Eve was going to -desert me for another. And when on the morrow, Midsummer Day, she went -at the appointed hour to the Raven Rock, I followed her. She had taken -her child—she had made up her mind—she was going. Then I took down my -gun and loaded it.’ - -Jasper’s heart stood still. Now for the first time he began to see and -fear what was coming. This was worse than he had anticipated. - -‘I crept along behind a hedge, till I reached the wood. Then I stole -through the gate under the trees. I came beneath the great Scotch -pine’—he pointed in the direction. ‘She had her child with her. She -had made up her mind—so I thought—to leave me, and take with her the -babe. That she could not leave. Now I see she took it only that she -might show the little thing to her father. I watched her on the rock. -She kissed the babe and soothed it, and fondled it, and sang to it. She -had a sweet voice. I was watching—there—and I had my gun in my hands. -The man was not come. I saw rise up before me the life my Eve would -lead; I saw how she would sink, how the man would desert her, and she -would fall lower; and my child, what would become of my child? Then she -turned and looked in my direction. She was listening for the step of -her lover. She stooped, and laid the child on the moss, where I lie -now. I suppose it opened its eyes, and she began to sing and dance to -it, snapping her fingers as though playing castanets. My heart flared -within me, my hand shook, and God knows how it was—I do not. I cannot -say how it came about, but in one moment the gun was discharged and she -fell. I did not mean to kill her when I loaded it, but I did mean to -kill the man, the seducer. But whether I did it purposely then, or my -finger acted without my will, I cannot say. All is dark to me when I -look back—dark as is the darkness over the edge of this rock.’ - -Jasper could not speak. He stood and looked with horror on the wounded, -wretched man. - -‘I buried her,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘in the old copper-mine—long deserted, -and only known to me—and there she lies. That is the whole.’ - -Then he covered his eyes and said no more. - - - - -CHAPTER LIII. - -BY LANTERN-LIGHT. - - -WHEN Barbara had finished her needlework, the wonder which had for -some time been obtruding itself upon her—what had become of Eve—became -prominent, and awoke a fear in her lest she should have run off into -the wood to Martin. She did not wish to think that Eve would do such -a thing; but, if she were not in the house, and neither her step nor -her voice announced her presence, where was she? Eve was never able to -amuse herself, by herself, for long. She must be with someone—with a -maid if no one else were available. She had no resources in herself. If -she were with Jasper, it did not matter; but Barbara hardly thought Eve -was with him. - -She laid aside her needlework, looked into her sister’s room, without -expecting to see Eve there, then descended and sought Jane, to inquire -whether her father had given signs of being awake by knocking. Jane, -however, was not in the pantry nor in the kitchen. Jane had not been -seen for some time. Then Barbara very softly stole through the hall -and tapped at her father’s door. No answer. She opened it and looked -in. The room was quite dark. She stood still and listened. She did not -hear her father breathe. In some surprise, but hardly yet in alarm, -she went for a candle, and returned with it to the room Mr. Jordan -occupied. To her amazement and alarm, she found it empty. She ran into -the parlour—no one was there. She sought through the house and garden, -and stables—not a sign of her father anywhere, and, strangely enough, -not of Eve, or of Jane either. Jasper, likewise, had not been seen -for some time. Then, in her distress, Barbara rang the alarm-bell, -long, hastily, and strongly. When, after the lapse of some while spent -in fruitless search, Barbara arrived at the Raven Rock, she was not -alone—two or three of the farm labourers and Joseph the policeman -were with her. Jane had found her sweetheart on his way to Morwell to -visit her. The light of the fire on the Rock, illumining the air above -the trees, had attracted the notice of one of the workmen, and now -the entire party came on to the Rock as Mr. Jordan had finished his -confession, and Jasper, sick at heart, horror-stricken, stood back, -speechless, not able to speak. - -Barbara uttered a cry of dismay when she saw her father, and threw -herself on her knees at his side. He made a sign to her to keep back, -he did not want her; he beckoned to Jasper. - -‘One word more,’ he said in a low tone. ‘My hours are nearly over. Lay -us all three together—my wife, my child, and me.’ - -‘Papa,’ said Barbara, ‘what do you mean? what is the matter?’ - -He paid no attention to her. ‘I have told you where _she_ lies. When -you have recovered my poor child——’ - -‘What child?’ asked Jasper. - -‘Eve; what other?’ - -Jasper did not understand, and supposed he was wandering. - -‘He—your brother—leaped off the precipice with her in his arms.’ - -‘Papa!’ cried Barbara. - -‘She is dead—dashed to pieces—and he too.’ - -Barbara looked at Jasper, then, in terror ran to the edge. Nothing -whatever could be seen. That platform of rock might be the end of the -world, a cliff jutting forth into infinite space and descending into -infinite abysses of blackness. She leaned over and called, but received -no answer. Jasper could hardly believe in the truth of what had been -said. Turning to the policeman and servants, he spoke sternly: ‘Mr. -Jordan must be removed at once. Let him be lifted very carefully and -carried into the house. He has lain here already unsuccoured too long.’ - -‘I will not be removed,’ said the old man; ‘leave me here, I shall take -no further harm. Go—seek for the body of my poor Eve.’ - -‘John Westlake,’ called Barbara to one of the men, ‘give me the lantern -at once.’ The man was carrying one. Then, distracted between fear for -her sister and anxiety about her father, she ran back to Mr. Jordan to -know how he was. - -‘You need be in no immediate anxiety about him,’ said Jasper. ‘It is -true that his wound has opened and bled, but I have tightly bandaged it -again.’ - -Joseph, the policeman, stood by helpless, staring blankly about him and -scratching his ear. - -Then Barbara noticed a blanket lying in a heap on the rock—the blanket -Jasper had brought to his brother, but which had been refused. She -caught it up at once and tore it into shreds, knotted the ends -together, took the lantern from the man Westlake, and let the -light down the face of the crag. The lantern was of tin and horn, -and through the sides but a dull light was thrown. She could see -nothing—the lantern caught in ivy and heather bushes and turned on one -side; the candle-flame scorched the horn. - -‘I can see nothing,’ she said despairingly. ‘What shall I do!’ - -Suddenly she grasped Jasper’s hand, as he knelt by her, looking down. - -‘Do you hear?’ - -A faint moan was audible. Was it a human voice, or was a bough swayed -and groaning in the wind? - -All crowded to the edge and held their breath. Mr. Jordan was -disregarded in the immediate interest attaching to the fate of Eve. - -No other sound was heard. - -Jasper ran and gathered fir and oak branches and grass, bound them into -a faggot, set it on fire, and threw it over the edge, so that it might -fall wide of the Rock and illumine its face. There was a glare for a -moment, but the faggot went down too swiftly to be of any avail. - -Then Walter, whom none had hitherto observed, pushed through, and, -without saying a word to anyone, kicked off his shoes and went over the -edge. - -‘Let him go,’ said Jasper as one of the men endeavoured to stay him; -‘the boy can climb like a squirrel. Let him take the lantern, Barbara, -that he may see where to plant his foot and what to hold.’ Then he took -the blanket rope from her hand, raised the light, and slowly lowered it -again beside the descending boy. - -Watt went down nimbly yet cautiously, clinging to ivy and tufts of -grass, feeling every projection, and trying with his foot before -trusting his weight to it. He did not hurry himself. He did not regard -those who watched his advance. His descent was in zigzags. He crept -along ledges, found a cleft or a step of stone, or a tuft of heather, -or a stem of ivy. All at once he grasped the lantern. - -‘I see something! Oh, Jasper, what can it be!’ gasped Barbara. - -‘Be careful,’ he said; ‘do not overbalance yourself.’ - -‘I have found _her_,’ shouted Watt; ‘only her—not him.’ - -‘God be praised!’ whispered Barbara. - -‘Is she alive?’ called Jasper. - -‘I do not know, I do not care. Martin is not here.’ - -‘Now,’ said Jasper, ‘come on, you men—that is, all but one. We must go -below; not over the cliff, but round through the coppice. We can find -our way to the lantern. The boy must be at the bottom. She has fallen,’ -he addressed Barbara now, ‘she has fallen, I trust, among bushes of oak -which have broken the force of the fall. Do not be discouraged. Trust -in God. Stay here and pray.’ - -‘Oh, Jasper, I cannot! I must go with you.’ - -‘You cannot. You must not. The coppice and brambles would tear your -clothes and hands and face. The scramble is difficult by day and -dangerous by night. You must remain here by your father. Trust me. I -will do all in my power for poor Eve. We cannot bring her up the way -we descend. We must force our way laterally into a path. You remain by -your father, and let a man run for another or two more lanterns.’ - -Then Jasper went down by way of the wood with the men scrambling, -falling, bursting through the brakes; some cursing when slashed across -the face by an oak bough or torn through cloth and skin by a braid -of bramble. They were quite invisible to Barbara, and to each other. -They went downward: fast they could not go, fearing at every moment -to fall over a face of rock; groping, struggling as with snakes, in -the coils of wood; slipping, falling, scrambling to their feet again, -calling each other, becoming bewildered, losing their direction. The -lantern that Watt held was quite invisible to them, buried above their -heads in the densest undergrowth. The only man of them who came unhurt -out of the coppice was Joseph, who, fearing for his face and hands -and uniform, unwilling that he should appear lacerated and disfigured -before Jane, instead of finding his way down through the brush, -descended leisurely by the path or road that made a long circuit to the -water’s edge, and then ascended by the same road again to the place -whence he had started. - -Jasper, who had more intelligence than the rest, had taken his -bearings, before starting, by the red star on the side of Hingston -Hill, that shone out of a miner’s hut window. This he was able always -to see, and by it to steer his course; so that eventually he reached -the spot where was Watt with the lantern. - -‘Where is she? What are you doing?’ he asked breathlessly. His hands -were torn and bleeding, his face bruised. - -‘Oh, I do not know. I left her. I want to find Martin—he cannot be far -off.’ - -The boy was scrambling on a slope of fallen rubble. - -‘I insist, Watt: tell me. Give me the lantern at once.’ - -‘I will not. She is up there. You can make out the ledge against the -sky, and by the light of the fire above; but Martin—whither is he gone?’ - -Then away farther down went the boy with his lantern. Instead of -following him, Jasper climbed up the rubble slope to the ledge. His -eyes had become accustomed to the dark. He distinguished the fluttering -end of a white or light-coloured dress. Then he swung himself up upon -the ledge, and saw, by the faint light that still lingered in the sky, -the figure of a woman—of Eve—lying on one side, with the hands clinging -to a broken branch of ivy. A thick bed of heather was on this ledge—so -thick that it had prevented Eve from rolling off it when she had fallen -into the bush. - -He stooped over her. He felt her heart, he put his ear to her mouth. -Immediately he called up to Barbara, ‘She is alive, but insensible.’ - -Then he put his hands to his mouth and shouted to the men who had -started with him. - -He was startled by seeing Watt with the lantern close to him: the light -was on the boy’s face. It was agitated with fear, rage, and distress. -His eyes were full of tears, sweat poured from his brow. - -‘Why do you shout?’ he said, and shook his fist in Jasper’s face. ‘Have -you no care for Martin? I cannot find him yet, but he is near. Be -silent, and do not bring the men here. If he is alive I will get him -away in the boat. If he is dead——’ then his sobs burst forth. ‘Martin! -poor Martin! where can he be! Do not call: let no one come here. Oh, -Martin, Martin!’ and away went the boy down again. ‘Why is _she_ fallen -here and found at once, and _he_ is lost! Oh, Martin—poor Martin!’ the -edge of the rock came in the way of the light, and Jasper saw no more -of the boy and the lantern. - -Unrestrained by what his youngest brother had said, Jasper called -repeatedly, till at last the men gathered where he was. Then, with -difficulty Eve was moved from where she lay and received in the arms of -the men below. She moaned and cried out with pain, but did not recover -consciousness. - -Watt was travelling about farther down with his dull light, sometimes -obscured, sometimes visible. One of the men shouted to him to bring the -lantern up, but his call was disregarded, and next moment Watt and his -lantern were forgotten, as another came down the face of the cliff, -lowered by Barbara. - -Then the men moved away with their burden, and one went before with the -light exploring the way. Barbara above knelt at the edge of the rock -and prayed, and as she prayed her tears fell over her cheeks. - -At length the little cluster of men appeared with their light through -the trees, approaching the Rock from the wood; they had reached the -path and were coming along it. Jasper took the lantern and led the way. - -‘Lay her here,’ he said, ‘near her father, where there is moss, till we -can get a couple of gates.’ Then, suddenly, as the men were about to -obey him, he uttered an exclamation of horror. He had put the lantern -down beside Mr. Jordan. - -‘Stand back,’ he said to Barbara, who was coming up, ‘stand back, I -pray you!’ - -But there was no need for her to stand back: she had seen what he would -have hidden from her. In the darkness and loneliness, unobserved, Mr. -Jordan had torn away his bandages, and his blood had deluged the turf. -It had ceased to flow now—for he was dead. - - - - -CHAPTER LIV. - -ANOTHER LOAD. - - -THE sad procession moved to Morwell out of the wood, preceded by the -man Westlake, mounted on Jasper’s horse, riding hard for the doctor. -Then came a stable-boy with the lantern, and after the light two -gates—first, that on which was laid the dead body of Mr. Jordan; then -another, followed closely by Barbara, on which lay Eve breathing, but -now not even moaning. As the procession was half through the first -field the bell of the house tolled. Westlake had communicated the news -to the servant-maids, and one of them at once went to the bell. - -Lagging behind all came Joseph Woodman, the policeman. The King of -France in the ballad marched up a hill, and then marched down again, -having accomplished nothing. Joseph had reversed the process: he had -leisurely marched down the hill, and then more leisurely marched up -it again; but the result was the same as that attained by the King of -France. - -On reaching Morwell Jasper said in a low voice to the men, ‘You must -return with me: there is another to be sought for. Who saw the boy -with the lantern last? He may have found him by this time.’ - -Then Joseph said slowly, ‘As I was down by the boathouse I saw -something.’ - -‘What did you see?’ - -‘I saw up on the hill-side a lantern travelling this way, then that -way, so’—he made a zigzag indication in the air with his finger. -‘It went very slow. It went, so to speak, like a drop o’ rain on a -window-pane, that goes this way, then it goes a little more that way, -then it goes quite contrary, to the other side. Then it changes its -direction once again and it goes a little faster.’ - -‘I wish you would go faster,’ said Jasper impatiently. ‘What did you -see at last?’ - -‘I’m getting into it, but I must go my own pace,’ said Joseph with -unruffled composure. ‘You understand me, brothers—I’m not speaking -of a drop o’ rain on a window-glass, but of a lantern-light on the -hill-side—and bless you, that hill-side was like a black wall rising up -on my right hand into the very sky. Well then, the light it travelled -like a drop o’ rain on a glass—first to this side, then to that. You’ve -seen drops o’ rain how they travel’—he appealed to all who listened. -‘And I reckon you know how that all to once like the drop, after having -travelled first this road, then that road, in a queer contrary fashion, -and very slow, all to once like, as I said, down it runs like a winking -of the eye and is gone. So exactly was it with thicky (that) there -light. It rambled about on the face of the blackness: first it crawled -this way, then it crept that; always, brothers, going a little lower -and then—to once—whish!—I saw it shoot like a falling star—I mean a -raindrop—and I saw it no more.’ - -‘And then?’ - -‘Why—and then I came back the same road I went down.’ - -‘You did not go into the bushes in search?’ - -‘How should I?’ answered Joseph, ‘I’d my best uniform on. I’d come out -courting, not thief-catching.’ - -‘And you know nothing further?’ - -‘How should I? Didn’t I say I went back up the road same way as I’d -come down? I warn’t bound to get my new cloth coat and trousers tore -all abroad by brimbles, not for nobody. I know my duty better than -that. The county pays for ‘em.’ - -Directed by this poor indication, Jasper led the men back into the wood -and down the woodman’s truck road, that led by a long sweep to the -bottom of the cliffs. - -The search was for a long time ineffectual; but at length, at the -foot of a rock, they came on the object of their quest—the body of -Martin—among fragments of fallen crag, and over it, clinging to his -brother with one arm, the hand passed through the ring of a battered -lantern, was Walter. The light was extinguished in the lantern and the -light was beaten out of the brothers. Jasper looked into the poor boy’s -face—a scornful smile still lingered on the lips. - -Apparently he had discovered his brother’s body and then had tried to -drag it away down the steep slope towards the old mine, in the hopes -of hiding there and finding that Martin was stunned, not dead; but in -the darkness he had stumbled over another precipice or slidden down a -run of shale and been shot with his burden over a rock. Again the sad -procession was formed. The two gates that had been already used were -put in requisition a second time, and the bodies of Martin and Watt -were carried to Morwell and laid in the hall, side by side, and he who -carried a light placed it at their head. - -Mr. Coyshe had arrived. For three of those brought in no medical aid -was of avail. - -Barbara, always practical and self-possessed, had ordered the cook to -prepare supper for the men. Then the two dead brothers were left where -they had been laid, with the dull lantern burning at their head, and -the hungry searchers went to the kitchen to refresh. - -Joseph ensconced himself by the fire, and Jane drew close to him. - -‘I reckon,’ said the policeman, ‘I’ll have some hot grog.’ Then he slid -his arm round Jane’s waist and said, ‘In the midst of death we are in -life. Is that really, now, giblet pie? The cold joint I don’t fancy’—he -gave Jane a smack on the cheek. ‘Jane, I’ll have a good help of the -giblet pie, please, and the workmen can finish the cold veal. I like -my grog hot and strong and with three lumps of double-refined sugar. -You’ll take a sip first, Jane, and I’ll drink where your honeyed lips -have a-sipped. When you come to consider it in a proper spirit’—he drew -Jane closer to his side—’there’s a deal of truth in Scriptur’. In the -midst of death we _are_ in life. Why, Jane, we shall enjoy ourselves -this evening as much as if we were at a love-feast. I’ve a sweet tooth, -Jane—a very sweet tooth.’ - - - - -CHAPTER LV. - -WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS. - - -JASPER stood on the staircase waiting. Then he heard a step descend. -There was no light: the maids, in the excitement and confusion, had -forgotten their duties. No lamp on the staircase, none in the hall. -Only in the latter the dull glimmer of the horn lantern that irradiated -but did not illumine the faces of two who were dead. The oak door at -the foot of the stairs was ajar, and a feeble light from this lantern -penetrated to the staircase. The window admitted some greyness from the -overcast sky. - -‘Tell me, Barbara,’ he said, ‘what is the doctor’s report?’ - -‘Jasper!’ Then Barbara’s strength gave way, and she burst into a -flood of tears. He put his arm round her, and she rested her head on -his breast and cried herself out. She needed this relief. She had kept -control over herself by the strength of her will. There was no one in -the house to think for her, to arrange anything; she had the care of -everything on her, beside her great sorrow for her father, and fear for -Eve. As for the servant girls, they were more trouble than help. _Men_ -were in the kitchen; that sufficed to turn their heads and make them -leave undone all they ought to have done, and do just those things they -ought not to do. At this moment, after the strain, the presence of a -sympathetic heart opened the fountain of her tears and broke down her -self-restraint. - -Jasper did not interrupt her, though he was anxious to know the result -of Mr. Coyshe’s examination. He waited patiently, with the weeping girl -in his arms, till she looked up and said, ‘Thank you, dear friend, for -letting me cry here: it has done me good.’ - -‘Now, Barbara, tell me all.’ - -‘Jasper, the doctor says that Eve will live.’ - -‘God’s name be praised for that!’ - -‘But he says that she will be nothing but a poor cripple all her days.’ - -‘Then we must take care of her.’ - -‘Yes, Jasper, I will devote my life to her.’ - -‘_We_ will, Barbara.’ - -She took his hand and pressed it between both hers. - -‘But,’ she said hesitatingly, ‘what if Mr. Coyshe——’ She did not finish -the sentence. - -‘Wait till Mr. Coyshe claims her.’ - -‘He is engaged to her, so of course he will, the more readily now that -she is such a poor crushed worm.’ - -Jasper said nothing. He knew Mr. Coyshe better than Barbara, perhaps. -He had taken his measure when he went with him over the farm after the -signing of the will. - -‘This place is hers by her father’s will,’ said Jasper; ‘and, should -the surgeon draw back, she will need you and me to look after her -interests.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘she will need us both.’ - -Then she withdrew her hands and returned upstairs. - -A few days later Mr. Coyshe took occasion to clear the ground. He -explained to Barbara that his engagement must be considered at an end. -He was very sorry, but he must look out for his own interests, as he -had neither parent alive to look out for them for him. It would be -quite impossible for him to get on with a wife who was a cripple. - -‘You are premature, Mr. Coyshe,’ said Miss Jordan stiffly. ‘If you -had waited till my sister were able to speak and act, she would have, -herself, released you.’ - -‘Exactly,’ said the unabashed surgeon; ‘but I am so considerate of the -feelings of the lady, that I spare her the trouble.’ - -And now let us spread the golden wings of fancy, and fly the scenes -of sorrow—but fly, not in space, but in time; measure not miles, but -months. - -It is autumn, far on into September, and Michaelmas has brought with -it the last days of summer. Not this the autumn that we saw coming on, -with the turning dogwood and bird-cherry, but another. - -In the garden the colchicum has raised its pale lilac flowers. -The Michaelmas daisy is surrounded by the humming-bird moth with -transparent wings, but wings that vibrate so fast that they can only -be seen as a quiver of light. The mountain ash is hung with clusters -of clear crimson berries, and the redbreasts and finches are about it, -tearing improvidently at the store, thoughtless of the coming winter, -and strewing the soil with wasted coral. - -Eve is seated in the sun outside the house, in the garden, and on her -knees is a baby—Barbara’s child, and yet Eve’s also, for if Barbara -gave it life, Eve gave it a name. Before her sister Barbara kneels, now -just restored from her confinement, a little pale and large in eye, -looking up at her sister and then down at the child. Jasper stands by -contemplating the pretty group. - -‘Eve,’ said Barbara in a low tremulous voice, ‘I have had for some -months on my heart a great fear lest, when my little one came, I should -love it with all my heart, and rob you. I had the same fear before I -married Jasper, lest he should snatch some of my love away from the -dear suffering sister who needs all. But now I have no such fear any -more, for love, I find, is a great mystery—it is infinitely divisible, -yet ever complete. It is like’—she lowered her voice reverently—’it -is like what we Catholics believe about the body of our Lord, the -very Sacrament of Love. That is in Heaven and in every church. It -is on every altar, and in every communicant, entire. I thought once -that when I had a husband, and then a little child, love would suffer -diminution—that I could not share love without lessening the portion of -each. But it is not so. I love my baby with my whole undivided heart; I -love you, my sister, equally with my whole undivided heart; and I love -my husband also,’ she turned and smiled at Jasper, ‘with my very whole -and undivided heart. It is a great mystery, but love is divine, and -divine things are perceived and believed by the heart, though beyond -the reason.’ - -‘So,’ said Eve, smiling, and with her blue eyes filling, ‘my dear, dear -Barbara, once so prosaic and so practical, is becoming an idealist and -poetical.’ - -‘Wherever unselfish love reigns, there is poetry,’ said Jasper; ‘the -sweetest of the songs of life is the song of self-sacrificing love. -Barbara never was prosaic. She was always an idealist; but, my dear -Eve, the heart needs culture to see and distinguish true poetry from -false sentiment. That you lacked at one time. That you have now. -I once knew a little girl, light of heart, and loving only self, -with no earnest purpose, blown about by every caprice. Now I see a -change—a change from base element to a divine presence. I see a sweet -face as of old, but I see something in it, new-born; a soul full of -self-reproach and passionate love; a heart that is innocent as of old, -but yet that has learned a great deal, and all good, through suffering. -I see a life that was once purposeless now instinct with purpose—the -purpose to live for duty, in self-sacrifice, and not for pleasure. My -dear Eve, the great and solemn priest Pain has laid his hands on you -and broken you, and held you up to Heaven, and you are not what you -were, and yet—and yet are the same.’ - -Eve could not speak. She put her arms round her sister’s neck, and -clung to her, and the tears flowed from both their eyes, and fell upon -the tiny Eve lying on the knees of the elder Eve. - -But though they were clasped over the child, no shadow fell on its -little face. The baby laughed. - - * * * * * - -Some years ago—the author cannot at the moment say how many, nor does -it matter—he paid a visit to Morwell, and saw the sad havoc that had -been wrought to the venerable hunting-lodge of the Abbots of Tavistock. -The old hall had disappeared, a floor had been put across it, and it -had been converted into an upper and lower story of rooms. One wing -had been transformed into a range of model cottages for labourers. The -house of the Jordans was now a farm. - -The author asked if he might see the remains of antiquity within the -house. - -An old woman who had answered his knock and ring, replied, ‘There are -none—all have been swept away.’ - -‘But,’ said he, ‘in my childhood I remember that the place was full of -interest; and by the way, what has become of the good people who lived -here? I have been in another part of the country, and indeed a great -deal abroad.’ - -‘Do you mean Mr. Jasper?’ - -‘No: Jasper, no—the name began with J.’ - -‘The old Squire Jordan your honour means, no doubt. He be dead ages -ago. Mr. Jasper married Miss Jordan—Miss Barbara we called her. When -Miss Eve died, they went away to Buckfastleigh, where they had a -house and a factory. There was a queer matter about the old squire’s -death—did you never hear of that, sir?’ - -‘I heard something; but I was very young then.’ - -‘My Joseph could tell you all about it better than I.’ - -‘Who is your Joseph?’ - -‘Well, sir, I’m ashamed to say it, but he’s my sweetheart, who’s been -a-courting of me these fifty years.’ - -‘Not married yet?’ - -‘He’s a slow man is Joseph. I reckon he’d ‘a’ spoken out if he’d been -able at last, but the paralysis took ‘m in the legs. He put off and -off—and I encouraged him all I could; but he always was a slow man.’ - -‘Where is he now?’ - -‘Oh, he’s with his married sister. He sits in a chair, and when I can I -run to ‘m and take him some backy or barley-sugar. He’s vastly fond o’ -sucking sticks o’ barley-sugar. Gentlefolks as come here sometimes give -me a shilling, and I lay that out on getting Joseph what he likes. He -always had a sweet tooth.’ - -‘Then you love him still?’ - -The old woman looked at me with surprise. Her hand and head shook. - -‘Of course I does: love is eternal—every fool knows that.’ - - - THE END. - - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - -[Illustration: LOGO] - - - - - ALPHABETICAL CATALOGUE OF BOOKS - IN - GENERAL LITERATURE AND FICTION - PUBLISHED BY - CHATTO & WINDUS - - 111 ST. MARTIN’S LANE, CHARING CROSS - - - _Telegrams LONDON, W.C. _Telephone No._ - Bookstore, London_ 3524 _Central_ - - - =ADAMS (W. 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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: Eve - A Novel - -Author: Sabine Baring-Gould - -Release Date: October 30, 2016 [EBook #53411] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE *** - - - - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="limit"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote p4"> -<p class="pc large">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p> -<p class="ptn">—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="350" height="558" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h1 class="p4 ls1">EVE</h1> - -<p class="pc2 elarge"><span class="f1">A Novel</span></p> - -<p class="pc4 lmid">BY THE</p> - -<p class="pc1 large">REV. S. BARING GOULD</p> - -<p class="pc1 reduct">AUTHOR OF</p> - -<p class="pc">‘JOHN HERRING’ ‘MEHALAH’ ‘RED SPIDER’<br /> -ETC.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="199" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -<p class="pc large"><span class="f1">London</span></p> -<p class="pc1 mid">CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY</p> -<p class="pc1">1891</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc4 reduct">PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -LONDON</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table id="toc" summary="ont"> - - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="tdr"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td class="tdl">MORWELL</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c1">1</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE LITTLE MOTHER</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c9">9</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE WHISH-HUNT</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c16">16</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl">EVE’S RING</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c22">22</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE LIMPING HORSE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c31">31</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl">A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c35">35</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl">A NIGHT-WATCH</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c44">44</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">BAB</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c51">51</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE POCKET-BOOK</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c57">57</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td class="tdl">BARBARA’S PETITION</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c65">65</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl">GRANTED!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c71">71</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl">CALLED AWAY</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c80">80</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">MR. BABB AT HOME</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c86">86</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl">A SINE QUÂ NON</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c93">93</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl">AT THE QUAY</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c100">100</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl">WATT</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c107">107</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl">FORGET-ME-NOT!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c113">113</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">DISCOVERIES</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c121">121</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdl">BARBARA’S RING</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c127">127</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XX.</td> - <td class="tdl">PERPLEXITY</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c132">132</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE SCYTHE OF TIME</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c138">138</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE RED STREAK</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c146">146</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">A BUNCH OF ROSES</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c152">152</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl">WHERE THEY WITHERED</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c159">159</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXV.</td> - <td class="tdl">LEAH AND RACHEL</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c165">165</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> - <td class="tdl">AN IMP OF DARKNESS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c172">172</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVII.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></td> - <td class="tdl">POOR MARTIN</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c179">179</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">FATHER AND SON</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c186">186</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIX.</td> - <td class="tdl">HUSH-MONEY</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c193">193</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXX.</td> - <td class="tdl">BETRAYAL</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c199">199</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXI.</td> - <td class="tdl">CALLED TO ACCOUNT</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c205">205</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXII.</td> - <td class="tdl">WANDERING LIGHTS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c212">212</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE OWLS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c219">219</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE DOVES</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c226">226</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXV.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE ALARM BELL</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c232">232</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXVI.</td> - <td class="tdl">CONFESSIONS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c239">239</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXVII.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE PIPE OF PEACE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c246">246</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">TAKEN!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c251">251</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXXIX.</td> - <td class="tdl">GONE!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c258">258</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XL.</td> - <td class="tdl">ANOTHER SACRIFICE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c265">265</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLI.</td> - <td class="tdl">ANOTHER MISTAKE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c271">271</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLII.</td> - <td class="tdl">ENGAGED</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c277">277</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">IN A MINE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c283">283</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLIV.</td> - <td class="tdl">TUCKERS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c290">290</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLV.</td> - <td class="tdl">DUCK AND GREEN PEAS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c296">296</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLVI.</td> - <td class="tdl">‘PRECIOSA’</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c302">302</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLVII.</td> - <td class="tdl">NOAH’S ARK</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c308">308</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">IN PART</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c316">316</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XLIX.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE OLD GUN</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c322">322</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">L.</td> - <td class="tdl">BY THE FIRE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c328">328</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">LI.</td> - <td class="tdl">A SHOT</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c334">334</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">LII.</td> - <td class="tdl">THE WHOLE</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c340">340</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">LIII.</td> - <td class="tdl">BY LANTERN-LIGHT</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c347">347</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">LIV.</td> - <td class="tdl">ANOTHER LOAD</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c354">354</a></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tdr">LV.</td> - <td class="tdl">WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#c357">357</a></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="pc4 elarge"><span class="ls1">EV</span>E.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c1" id="c1">CHAPTER I.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">MORWELL.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> river Tamar can be ascended by steamers as far as -Morwell, one of the most picturesque points on that most -beautiful river. There also, at a place called ‘New Quay,’ -barges discharge their burdens of coal, bricks, &c., which -thence are conveyed by carts throughout the neighbourhood. -A new road, admirable as one of those of Napoleon’s -construction in France, gives access to this quay—a -road constructed at the outlay of a Duke of Bedford, to -whom belongs all the land that was once owned by the -Abbey of Tavistock. This skilfully engineered road descends -by zigzags from the elevated moorland on the -Devon side of the Tamar, through dense woods of oak and -fir, under crags of weathered rock wreathed with heather. -From the summit of the moor this road runs due north, -past mine shafts and ‘ramps,’ or rubble heaps thrown out -of the mines, and meets other roads uniting from various -points under the volcanic peak of Brent Tor, that rises in -solitary dignity out of the vast moor to the height of twelve -hundred feet, and is crowned by perhaps the tiniest church -in England.</p> - -<p>Seventy or eighty years ago no such roads existed. -The vast upland was all heather and gorse, with tracks -across it. An old quay had existed on the river, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -ruins remained of the buildings about it erected by the -abbots of Tavistock; but quay and warehouses had fallen -into decay, and no barges came so far up the river.</p> - -<p>The crags on the Devon side of the Tamar rise many -hundred feet in sheer precipices, broken by gulfs filled -with oak coppice, heather, and dogwood.</p> - -<p>In a hollow of the down, half a mile from the oak -woods and crags, with an ancient yew and Spanish chestnut -before it, stood, and stands still, Morwell House, the -hunting-lodge of the abbots of Tavistock, built where a -moor-well—a spring of clear water—gushed from amidst -the golden gorse brakes, and after a short course ran down -the steep side of the hill, and danced into the Tamar.</p> - -<p>Seventy or eighty years ago this house was in a better -and worse condition than at present: worse, in that it was -sorely dilapidated; better, in that it had not suffered -tasteless modern handling to convert it into a farm with -labourers’ cottages. Even forty years ago the old banquetting -hall and the abbot’s parlour were intact. Now -all has been restored out of recognition, except the gatehouse -that opens into the quadrangle. In the interior of -this old hall, on the twenty-fourth of June, just eighty -years ago, sat the tenant: a tall, gaunt man with dark -hair. He was engaged cleaning his gun, and the atmosphere -was foul with the odour exhaled by the piece that -had been recently discharged, and was now being purified. -The man was intent on his work, but neither the exertion -he used, nor the warmth of a June afternoon, accounted -for the drops that beaded his brow and dripped from his -face.</p> - -<p>Once—suddenly—he placed the muzzle of his gun -against his right side under the rib, and with his foot -touched the lock. A quiver ran over his face, and his dim -eyes were raised to the ceiling. Then there came from -near his feet a feeble sound of a babe giving token with its -lips that it was dreaming of food. The man sighed, and -looked down at a cradle that was before him. He placed -the gun between his knees, and remained for a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -gazing at the child’s crib, lost in a dream, with the evening -sun shining through the large window and illumining his -face. It was a long face with light blue eyes, in which -lurked anguish mixed with cat-like treachery. The mouth -was tremulous, and betrayed weakness.</p> - -<p>Presently, recovering himself from his abstraction, he -laid the gun across the cradle, from right to left, and it -rested there as a bar sinister on a shield, black and ominous. -His head sank in his thin shaking hands, and he -bowed over the cradle. His tears or sweat, or tears and -sweat combined, dropped as a salt rain upon the sleeping -child, that gave so slight token of its presence.</p> - -<p>All at once the door opened, and a man stood in the -yellow light, like a mediæval saint against a golden ground. -He stood there a minute looking in, his eyes too dazzled -to distinguish what was within, but he called in a hard, -sharp tone, ‘Eve! where is Eve?’</p> - -<p>The man at the cradle started up, showing at the time -how tall he was. He stood up as one bewildered, with -his hands outspread, and looked blankly at the new -comer.</p> - -<p>The latter, whose eyes were becoming accustomed to -the obscurity, after a moment’s pause repeated his question, -‘Eve! where is Eve?’</p> - -<p>The tall man opened his mouth to speak, but no words -came.</p> - -<p>‘Are you Ignatius Jordan?’</p> - -<p>‘I am,’ he answered with an effort.</p> - -<p>‘And I am Ezekiel Babb. I am come for my daughter.’</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan staggered back against the wall, and -leaned against it with arms extended and with open -palms. The window through which the sun streamed was -ancient; it consisted of two lights with a transom, and the -sun sent the shadow of mullion and transom as a black -cross against the further wall. Ignatius stood unconsciously -spreading his arms against this shadow like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -ghastly Christ on his cross. The stranger noticed the -likeness, and said in his harsh tones, ‘Ignatius Jordan, -thou hast crucified thyself.’ Then again, as he took a -seat unasked, ‘Eve! where is Eve?’</p> - -<p>The gentleman addressed answered with an effort, -‘She is no longer here. She is gone.’</p> - -<p>‘What!’ exclaimed Babb; ‘no longer here? She was -here last week. Where is she now?’</p> - -<p>‘She is gone,’ said Jordan in a low tone.</p> - -<p>‘Gone!—her child is here. When will she return?’</p> - -<p>‘Return!’—with a sigh—’never.’</p> - -<p>‘Cursed be the blood that flows in her veins!’ shouted -the new comer. ‘Restless, effervescing, fevered, fantastic! -It is none of it mine, it is all her mother’s.’ He sprang -to his feet and paced the room furiously, with knitted -brows and clenched fists. Jordan followed him with his -eye. The man was some way past the middle of life. -He was strongly and compactly built. He wore a long -dark coat and waistcoat, breeches, and blue worsted -stockings. His hair was grey; his protruding eyebrows -met over the nose. They were black, and gave a sinister -expression to his face. His profile was strongly accentuated, -hawklike, greedy, cruel.</p> - -<p>‘I see it all,’ he said, partly to himself; ‘that cursed -foreign blood would not suffer her to find rest even here, -where there is prosperity. What is prosperity to her? -What is comfort? Bah! all her lust is after tinsel and -tawdry.’ He raised his arm and clenched fist. ‘A life -accursed of God! Of old our forefathers, under the -righteous Cromwell, rose up and swept all profanity out of -the land, the jesters, and the carol singers, and theatrical -performers, and pipers and tumblers. But they returned -again to torment the elect. What saith the Scripture? -Make no marriage with the heathen, else shall ye be unclean, -ye and your children.’</p> - -<p>He reseated himself. ‘Ignatius Jordan,’ he said, ‘I -was mad and wicked when I took her mother to wife;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -and a mad and wicked thing you did when you took the -daughter. As I saw you just now—as I see you at present—standing -with spread arms against the black shadow -cross from the window, I thought it was a figure of -what you chose for your lot when you took my Eve. I -crucified myself when I married her mother, and now -the iron enters your side.’ He paused; he was pointing -at Ignatius with out-thrust finger, and the shadow -seemed to enter Ignatius against the wall. ‘The blood -that begins to flow will not cease to run till it has all run -out.’</p> - -<p>Again he paused. The arms of Jordan fell.</p> - -<p>‘So she has left you,’ muttered the stranger, ‘she has -gone back to the world, to its pomps and vanities, its lusts, -its lies, its laughter. Gone back to the players and dancers.’</p> - -<p>Jordan nodded; he could not speak.</p> - -<p>‘Dead to every call of duty,’ Babb continued with a -scowl on his brow, ‘dead to everything but the cravings of -a cankered heart; dead to the love of lawful gain; alive to -wantonness, and music, and glitter. Sit down, and I will -tell you the story of my folly, and you shall tell me the -tale of yours.’ He looked imperiously at Jordan, who sank -into his chair beside the cradle.</p> - -<p>‘I will light my pipe.’ Ezekiel Babb struck a light -with flint and steel. ‘We have made a like experience, I -with the mother, you with the daughter. Why are you -downcast? Rejoice if she has set you free. The mother -never did that for me. Did you marry her?’</p> - -<p>The pale man opened his mouth, and spread out, then -clasped, his hands nervously, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>‘I am not deaf that I should be addressed in signs,’ -said Babb. ‘Did you marry my daughter?’</p> - -<p>‘No.’</p> - -<p>‘The face of heaven was turned on you,’ said Babb -discontentedly, ‘and not on me. I committed myself, and -could not break off the yoke. I married.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - -<p>The child in the cradle began to stir. Jordan rocked it -with his foot.</p> - -<p>‘I will tell you all,’ the visitor continued. ‘I was a -young man when I first saw Eve—not your Eve, but her -mother. I had gone into Totnes, and I stood by the cloth -market at the gate to the church. It was the great fair-day. -There were performers in the open space before the -market. I had seen nothing like it before. What was -performed I do not recall. I saw only her. I thought her -richly, beautifully dressed. Her beauty shone forth above -all. She had hair like chestnut, and brown eyes, a clear, -thin skin, and was formed delicately as no girl of this -country and stock. I knew she was of foreign blood. A -carpet was laid in the market-place, and she danced on it -to music. It was like a flame flickering, not a girl dancing. -She looked at me out of her large eyes, and I loved her. -It was witchcraft, the work of the devil. The fire went -out of her eyes and burnt to my marrow; it ran in my -veins. That was witchcraft, but I did not think it then. -There should have been a heap of wood raised and fired, -and she cast into the flames. But our lot is fallen in evil -days. The word of the Lord is no longer precious, and the -Lord has said, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” -That was witchcraft. How else was it that I gave no -thought to Tamsine Bovey, of Buncombe, till it was too -late, though Buncombe joins my land, and so Buncombe -was lost to me for ever? Quiet that child if you want -to hear more. Hah! Your Eve has deserted you and -her babe, but mine had not the good heart to leave -me.’</p> - -<p>The child in the cradle whimpered. The pale man -lifted it out, got milk and fed it, with trembling hand, but -tenderly, and it dozed off in his arms.</p> - -<p>‘A girl?’ asked Babb. Jordan nodded.</p> - -<p>‘Another Eve—a third Eve?’ Jordan nodded again. -‘Another generation of furious, fiery blood to work confusion, -to breed desolation. When will the earth open her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -mouth and swallow it up, that it defile no more the habitations -of Israel?’</p> - -<p>Jordan drew the child to his heart, and pressed it so -passionately that it woke and cried.</p> - -<p>‘Still the child or I will leave the house,’ said Ezekiel -Babb. ‘You would do well to throw a wet cloth over its -mouth, and let it smother itself before it work woe on you -and others. When it is quiet, I will proceed.’ He paused. -When the cries ceased he went on: ‘I watched Eve as she -danced. I could not leave the spot. Then a rope was -fastened and stretched on high, and she was to walk that. -A false step would have dashed her to the ground. I could -not bear it. When her foot was on the ladder, I uttered a -great cry and ran forward; I caught her, I would not let -her go. I was young then.’ He remained silent, smoking, -and looking frowningly before him. ‘I was not a -converted man then. Afterwards, when the word of God -was precious to me, and I saw that I might have had Tamsine -Bovey, and Buncombe, then I was sorry and ashamed. -But it was too late. The eyes of the unrighteous are -sealed. I was a fool. I married that dancing girl.’</p> - -<p>He was silent again, and looked moodily at his pipe.</p> - -<p>‘I have let the fire die out,’ he said, and rekindled as -before. ‘I cannot deny that she was a good wife. But -what availed it me to have a woman in the house who could -dance like a feather, and could not make scald cream? -What use to me a woman who brought the voice of a -nightingale with her into the house, but no money? She -knew nothing of the work of a household. She had bones -like those of a pigeon, there was no strength in them. I -had to hire women to do her work, and she was thriftless -and thoughtless, so the money went out when it should -have come in. Then she bore me a daughter, and the -witchery was not off me, so I called her Eve—that is your -Eve, and after that she gave me sons, and then’—angrily—’then, -when loo late, she died. Why did she not die -half a year before Tamsine Bovey married Joseph Warmington?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -If she had, I might still have got Buncombe—now -it is gone, gone for ever.’</p> - -<p>He knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it into -his pocket.</p> - -<p>‘Eve was her mother’s darling; she was brought up -like a heathen to love play and pleasure, not work and -duty. The child sucked in her mother’s nature with her -mother’s milk. When the mother died, Eve—your Eve—was -a grown girl, and I suppose home became unendurable -to her. One day some play actors passed through the place -on their way from Exeter, and gave a performance in our -village. I found that my daughter, against my command, -went to see it. When she came home, I took her into the -room where is my great Bible, and I beat her. Then she -ran away, and I saw no more of her; whether she went -after the play actors or not I never inquired.’</p> - -<p>‘Did you not go in pursuit?’</p> - -<p>‘Why should I? She would have run away again. -Time passed, and the other day I chanced to come across -a large party of strollers, when I was in Plymouth on business. -Then I learned from the manager about my child, -and so, for the first time, heard where she was. Now tell -me how she came here.’</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan raised himself in his chair, and swept -back the hair that had fallen over his bowed face and -hands.</p> - -<p>‘It is passed and over,’ he said.</p> - -<p>‘Let me hear all. I must know all,’ said Babb. ‘She -is my daughter. Thanks be, that we are not called to task -for the guilt of our children. The soul that sinneth it shall -surely die. She had light and truth set before her on one -side as surely as she had darkness and lies on the other, -Ebal and Gerizim, and she went after Ebal. It was in her -blood. She drew it of her mother. One vessel is for -honour—such am I; another for dishonour—such are all -the Eves from the first to the last, that in your arms. -Vessels of wrath, ordained to be broken. Ah! you may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -cherish that little creature in your arms. You may strain -it to your heart, you may wrap it round with love, but it is -in vain that you seek to save it, to shelter it. It is wayward, -wanton, wicked clay; ordained from eternity to be -broken. I stood between the first Eve and the shattering -that should have come to her. That is the cause of all my -woes. Where is the second Eve? Broken in soul, broken -maybe in body. There lies the third, ordained to be -broken.’ He folded his arms, was silent a while, and then -said: ‘Tell me your tale. How came my daughter to your -house?’</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c9" id="c9">CHAPTER II.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE LITTLE MOTHER.</p> - -<p class="pn">‘<span class="smcap">Last</span> Christmas twelvemonth,’ said Ignatius Jordan -slowly, ‘I was on the moor—Morwell Down it is called. -Night was falling. The place—where the road comes -along over the down, from Beer Alston and Beer Ferris. -I dare say you came along it, you took boat from Plymouth -to Beer Ferris, and thence the way runs—the -packmen travel it—to the north to Launceston. It was -stormy weather, and the snow drove hard; the wind was -so high that a man might hardly face it. I heard cries -for help. I found a party of players who were on their -way to Launceston, and were caught by the storm and -darkness on the moor. They had a sick girl with -them——’ His voice broke down.</p> - -<p>‘Eve?’ asked Ezekiel Babb.</p> - -<p>Jordan nodded. After a pause he recovered himself -and went on. ‘She could walk no further, and the party -was distressed, not knowing whither to go or what to do. -I invited them to come here. The house is large enough -to hold a score of people. Next day I set them on their -way forward, as they were pressed to be at Launceston -for the Christmas holidays. But the girl was too ill to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -proceed, and I offered to let her remain here till she recovered. -After a week had passed the actors sent here -from Lannceston to learn how she was, and whether she -could rejoin them, as they were going forward to Bodmin, -but she was not sufficiently recovered. Then a month -later, they sent again, but though she was better I would -not let her go. After that we heard no more of the -players. So she remained at Morwell, and I loved her, -and she became my wife.’</p> - -<p>‘You said that you did not marry her.’</p> - -<p>‘No, not exactly. This is a place quite out of the -world, a lost, unseen spot. I am a Catholic, and no priest -comes this way. There is the ancient chapel here where -the Abbot of Tavistock had mass in the old time. It is -bare, but the altar remains, and though no priest ever -comes here, the altar is a Catholic altar. Eve and I went -into the old chapel and took hands before the altar, and I -gave her a ring, and we swore to be true to each other’—his -voice shook, and then a sob broke from his breast. -‘We had no priest’s blessing on us, that is true. But Eve -would never tell me what her name was, or whence she -came. If we had gone to Tavistock or Brent Tor to be -married by a Protestant minister, she would have been -forced to tell her name and parentage, and that, she said, -nothing would induce her to do. It mattered not, we -thought. We lived here out of the world, and to me the -vow was as sacred when made here as if confirmed before -a minister of the established religion. We swore to be all -in all to each other.’</p> - -<p>He clasped his hands on his knees, and went on with -bent head: ‘But the play-actors returned and were in -Tavistock last week, and one of them came up here to see -her, not openly, but in secret. She told me nothing, and -he did not allow me to see him. She met him alone -several times. This place is solitary and sad, and Eve of -a lively nature. She tired of being here. She wearied -of me.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> - -<p>Babb laughed bitterly. ‘And now she is flown away -with a play-actor. As she deserted her father, she deserts -her husband and child, and the house that housed -her. See you,’ he put out his hand and grasped the -cradle: ‘Here lies vanity of vanities, the pomps of the -flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, nestled -in that crib, that self-same strain of leaping, headlong, -wayward blood, that never will rest till poured out of -the veins and rolled down into the ocean, and lost—lost—lost!’</p> - -<p>Jordan sprang from his seat with a gasp and a stifled -cry, and fell back against the wall.</p> - -<p>Babb stooped over the cradle and plucked out the -child. He held it in the sunlight streaming through the -window, and looked hard at it. Then he danced it up and -down with a scoffing laugh.</p> - -<p>‘See, see!’ he cried; ‘see how the creature rejoices -and throws forth its arms. Look at the shadow on the -wall, as of a Salamander swaying in a flood of fire. Ha! -Eve—blood! wanton blood! I will crucify thee too!’ He -raised the babe aloft against the black cross made by the -shadow of the mullion and transom, as the child had -thrown up its tiny arms.</p> - -<p>‘See,’ he exclaimed, ‘the child hangs also!’</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan seized the babe, snatched it away from -the rude grasp of Babb, clasped it passionately to his -breast, and covered it with kisses. Then he gently replaced -it, crowing and smiling, in its cradle, and rocked it -with his foot.</p> - -<p>‘You fool!’ said Babb; ‘you love the strange blood -in spite of its fickleness and falseness. I will tell you -something further. When I heard from the players that -Eve was here, at Morwell, I did not come on at once, -because I had business that called me home. But a -fortnight after I came over Dartmoor to Tavistock. I did -not come, as you supposed, up the river to Beer Ferris and -along the road over your down; no, I live at Buckfastleigh<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -by Ashburton, right away to the east across Dartmoor. -I came thence as far as Tavistock, and there I -found the players once more, who had come up from -Plymouth to make sport for the foolish and ungodly in -Tavistock. They told me that they had heard you lived -with my Eve, and had not married her, so I did not visit -you, but waited about till I could speak with her alone, and -I sent a message to her by one of the players that I was -wanting a word with her. She came to me at the place I -had appointed once—ay! and twice—and she feigned to -grieve that she had left me, and acted her part well as if -she loved me—her father. I urged her to leave you and -come back to her duty and her God and to me, but she -would promise nothing. Then I gave her a last chance. -I told her I would meet her finally on that rocky platform -that rises as a precipice above the river, last night, and -there she should give me her answer.’</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan’s agitation became greater, his lips -turned livid, his eyes were wide and staring as though -with horror, and he put up his hands as if warding off a -threatened blow.</p> - -<p>‘You—you met her on the Raven Rock?’</p> - -<p>‘I met her there twice, and I was to have met her -there again last night, when she was to have given me -her final answer, what she would do—stay here, and be -lost eternally, or come back with me to Salvation. But I -was detained, and I could not keep the engagement, so I -sent one of the player-men to inform her that I would -come to-day instead. So I came on to-day, as appointed, -and she was not there, not on the Raven Rock, as you call -it, and I have arrived here,—but I am too late.’</p> - -<p>Jordan clasped his hands over his eyes and moaned. -The babe began to wail.</p> - -<p>‘Still the yowl of that child!’ exclaimed Babb. ‘I tell -you this as a last instance of her perfidy.’ He raised his -voice above the cry of the child. ‘What think you was -the reason she alleged why she would not return with me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -at once—why did she ask time to make up her mind? -She told me that you were a Catholic, she told me of the -empty, worthless vow before an old popish altar in a -deserted chapel, and I knew her soul would be lost if she -remained with you; you would drag her into idolatry. -And I urged her, as she hoped to escape hell fire, to flee -Morwell and not cast a look behind, desert you and the -babe and all for the Zoar of Buckfastleigh. But she was -a dissembler. She loved neither me nor you nor her -child. She loved only idleness and levity, and the butterfly -career of a player, and some old sweetheart among the -play company. She has gone off with him. Now I wipe -my hands of her altogether.’</p> - -<p>Jordan swayed himself, sitting as one stunned, with an -elbow on each knee and his head in the hollow of his -hands.</p> - -<p>‘Can you not still the brat?’ cried Ezekiel Babb, -‘now that the mother is gone, who will be the mother -to it?’</p> - -<p>‘I—I—I!’ the cry of an eager voice. Babb looked -round, and saw a little girl of six, with grey eyes and -dark hair, a quaint, premature woman, in an old, long, -stiff frock. Her little arms were extended; ‘Baby-sister!’ -she called, ‘don’t cry!’ She ran forward, and, -kneeling by the cradle, began to caress and play with the -infant.</p> - -<p>‘Who is this?’ asked Ezekiel.</p> - -<p>‘My Barbara,’ answered Ignatius in a low tone; ‘I -was married before, and my wife died, leaving me this -little one.’</p> - -<p>The child, stooping over the cradle, lifted the babe -carefully out. The infant crowed and made no resistance, -for the arms that held it, though young, were strong. -Then Barbara seated herself on a stool, and laid the infant -on her lap, and chirped and snapped her fingers and -laughed to it, and snuggled her face into the neck of the -babe. The latter quivered with excitement, the tiny arms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -were held up, the little hands clutched in the child’s long -hair and tore at it, and the feet kicked with delight. -‘Father! father!’ cried Barbara, ‘see little Eve; she is -dancing and singing.’</p> - -<p>‘Dancing and singing!’ echoed Ezekiel Babb, ‘that is -all she ever will do. She comes dancing and singing into -the world, and she will go dancing and singing out of it—and -then—then,’ he brushed his hand through the air, as -though drawing back a veil. The girl-nurse looked at the -threatening old man with alarm.</p> - -<p>‘Keep the creature quiet,’ he said impatiently; ‘I cannot -sit here and see the ugly, evil sight. Dancing and -singing! she begins like her mother, and her mother’s -mother. Take her away, the sight of her stirs my -bile.’</p> - -<p>At a sign from the father Barbara rose, and carried the -child out of the room, talking to it fondly, and a joyous -chirp from the little one was the last sound that reached -Babb’s ears as the door shut behind them.</p> - -<p>‘Naught but evil has the foreign blood, the tossing -fever-blood, brought me. First it came without a dower, -and that was like original sin. Then it prevented me from -marrying Tamsine Bovey and getting Buncombe. That -was like sin of malice. Now Tamsine is dead and her -husband, Joseph Warmington, wants to sell. I did not -want Tamsine, but I wanted Buncombe; at one time I -could not see how Buncombe was to be had without Tamsine. -Now the property is to be sold, and it joins on to -mine as if it belonged to it. What Heaven has joined together -let not man put asunder. It was wicked witchcraft -stood in the way of my getting my rightful own.’</p> - -<p>‘How could it be your rightful own?’ asked Ignatius; -‘was Tamsine Bovey your kinswoman?’</p> - -<p>‘No, she was not, but she ought to have been my wife, -and so Buncombe have come to me. I seem as if I could -see into the book of the Lord’s ordinance that so it was -written. There’s some wonderful good soil in Buncombe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -But the Devil allured me with his Eve, and I was bewitched -by her beautiful eyes and little hands and feet. -Cursed be the day that shut me out of Buncombe. Cursed -be the strange blood that ran as a dividing river between -Owlacombe and Buncombe, and cut asunder what Providence -ordained to be one. I tell you,’ he went on fiercely, -‘that so long as all that land remains another’s and not -mine, so long shall I feel only gall, and no pity nor love, -for Eve, and all who have issued from her—for all who -inherit her name and blood. I curse——’ his voice rose -to a roar, and his grey hair bristled like the fell of a wolf, -‘I curse them all with——’</p> - -<p>The pale man, Jordan, rushed at him and thrust his -hand over his mouth.</p> - -<p>‘Curse not,’ he said vehemently; then in a subdued -tone, ‘Listen to reason, and you will feel pity and love for -my little one who inherits the name and blood of your -Eve. I have laid by money: I am in no want. It shall -be the portion of my little Eve, and I will lend it you for -seventeen years. This day, the 24th of June, seventeen -years hence, you shall repay me the whole sum without -interest. I am not a Jew to lend on usury. I shall want -the money then for my Eve, as her dower. <i>She</i>’—he held -up his head for a moment—‘<i>she</i> shall not be portionless. -In the meantime take and use the money, and when you -walk over the fields you have purchased with it,—bless the -name.’</p> - -<p>A flush came in the sallow face of Ezekiel Babb. He -rose to his feet and held out his hand.</p> - -<p>‘You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds?’</p> - -<p>‘I will lend you fifteen hundred.’</p> - -<p>‘I will swear to repay the sum in seventeen years. -You shall have a mortgage.’</p> - -<p>‘On this day.’</p> - -<p>‘This 24th day of June, so help me God.’</p> - -<p>A ray of orange light, smiting through the window, -was falling high up the wall. The hands of the men met in -the beam, and the reflection was cast on their faces,—on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -dark hard face of Ezekiel, on the white quivering face of -Ignatius.</p> - -<p>‘And you bless,’ said the latter, ‘you bless the name of -Eve, and the blood that follows it.’</p> - -<p>‘I bless. Peace be to the restless blood.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c16" id="c16">CHAPTER III.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE WHISH-HUNT.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">On</span> a wild and blustering evening, seventeen years after -the events related in the two preceding chapters, two girls -were out, in spite of the fierce wind and gathering darkness, -in a little gig that accommodated only two, the body perched -on very large and elastic springs. At every jolt of the -wheels the body bounced and swayed in a manner likely to -trouble a bad sailor. But the girls were used to the -motion of the vehicle, and to the badness of the road. -They drove a very sober cob, who went at his leisure, -picking his way, seeing ruts in spite of the darkness.</p> - -<p>The moor stretched in unbroken desolation far away on -all sides but one, where it dropped to the gorge of the -Tamar, but the presence of this dividing valley could only -be guessed, not perceived by the crescent moon. The distant -Cornish moorland range of Hingston and the dome of -Kit Hill seemed to belong to the tract over which the girls -were driving. These girls were Barbara and Eve Jordan. -They had been out on a visit to some neighbours, if those -can be called neighbours who lived at a distance of five -miles, and were divided from Morwell by a range of desolate -moor. They had spent the day with their friends, and -were returning home later than they had intended.</p> - -<p>‘I do not know what father would say to our being -abroad so late, and in the dark, unattended,’ said Eve, -‘were he at home. It is well he is away.’</p> - -<p>‘He would rebuke me, not you,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Of course he would; you are the elder, and responsible.’</p> - -<p>‘But I yielded to your persuasion.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I like to enjoy myself when I may. It is vastly -dull at Morwell, Tell me, Bab, did I look well in my -figured dress?’</p> - -<p>‘Charming, darling; you always are that.’</p> - -<p>‘You are a sweet sister,’ said Eve, and she put her arm -round Barbara, who was driving.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan, their father, was tenant of the Duke of -Bedford. The Jordans were the oldest tenants on the -estate which had come to the Russells on the sequestration -of the abbey. The Jordans had been tenants under the -abbot, and they remained on after the change of religion -and owners, without abandoning their religion or losing -their position. The Jordans were not accounted squires, -but were reckoned as gentry. They held Morwell on long -leases of ninety-nine years, regularly renewed when the -leases lapsed. They regarded Morwell House almost as -their freehold; it was bound up with all their family traditions -and associations.</p> - -<p>As a vast tract of country round belonged to the duke, -it was void of landed gentry residing on their estates, and -the only families of education and birth in the district were -those of the parsons, but the difference in religion formed -a barrier against intimacy with these. Mr. Jordan, moreover, -was living under a cloud. It was well-known throughout -the country that he had not been married to Eve’s -mother, and this had caused a cessation of visits to Morwell. -Moreover, since the disappearance of Eve’s mother, -Mr. Jordan had become morose, reserved, and so peculiar -in his manner, that it was doubted whether he were in his -right mind.</p> - -<p>Like many a small country squire, he farmed the -estate himself. At one time he had been accounted an -active farmer, and was credited with having made a great -deal of money, but for the last seventeen years he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -neglected agriculture a good deal, to devote himself to -mineralogical researches. He was convinced that the rocks -were full of veins of metal—silver, lead, and copper, and -he occupied himself in searching for the metals in the -wood, and on the moor, sinking pits, breaking stones, -washing and melting what he found. He believed that he -would come on some vein of almost pure silver or copper, -which would make his fortune. Bitten with this craze, -he neglected his farm, which would have gone to ruin had -not his eldest daughter, Barbara, taken the management -into her own hands.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan was quite right in believing that he lived -on rocks rich with metal: the whole land is now honeycombed -with shafts and adits: but he made the mistake -in thinking that he could gather a fortune out of the rocks -unassisted, armed only with his own hammer, drawing -only out of his own purse. His knowledge of chemistry -and mineralogy was not merely elementary, but incorrect; -he read old books of science mixed up with the fantastic -alchemical notions of the middle ages, believed in the -sympathies of the planets with metals, and in the virtues -of the divining rod.</p> - -<p>‘Does a blue or a rose ribbon suit my hair best, Bab?’ -asked Eve. ‘You see my hair is chestnut, and I doubt -me if pink suits the colour so well as forget-me-not.’</p> - -<p>‘Every ribbon of every hue agrees with Eve,’ said -Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘You are a darling.’ The younger girl made an attempt -to kiss her sister, in return for the compliment.</p> - -<p>‘Be careful,’ said Barbara, ‘you will upset the gig.’</p> - -<p>‘But I love you so much when you are kind.’</p> - -<p>‘Am not I always kind to you, dear?’</p> - -<p>‘O yes, but sometimes much kinder than at others.’</p> - -<p>‘That is, when I flatter you.’</p> - -<p>‘O if you call it flattery——’ said Eve, pouting.</p> - -<p>‘No—it is plain truth, my dearest.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Bab,’ broke forth the younger suddenly, ‘do you not -think Bradstone a charming house? It is not so dull as -ours.’</p> - -<p>‘And the Cloberrys—you like them?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, dear, very much.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you believe that story about Oliver Cloberry, the -page?’</p> - -<p>‘What story?’</p> - -<p>‘That which Grace Cloberry told me.’</p> - -<p>‘I was not with you in the lanes when you were talking -together. I do not know it.’</p> - -<p>‘Then I will tell you. Listen, Bab, and shiver.’</p> - -<p>‘I am shivering in the cold wind already.’</p> - -<p>‘Shiver more shiveringly still. I am going to curdle -your blood.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on with the story, but do not squeeze up against -me so close, or I shall be pushed out of the gig.’</p> - -<p>‘But, Bab, I am frightened to tell the tale.’</p> - -<p>‘Then do not tell it.’</p> - -<p>‘I want to frighten you.’</p> - -<p>‘You are very considerate.’</p> - -<p>‘We share all things, Bab, even our terrors. I am a -loving sister. Once I gave you the measles. I was too -selfish to keep it all to myself. Are you ready? Grace -told me that Oliver Cloberry, the eldest son, was page boy -to John Copplestone, of Warleigh, in Queen Elizabeth’s -reign, you know—wicked Queen Bess, who put so many -Catholics to death. Squire Copplestone was his godfather, -but he did not like the boy, though he was his godchild -and page. The reason was this: he was much attached -to Joan Hill, who refused him and married Squire Cloberry, -of Bradstone, instead. The lady tried to keep -friendly with her old admirer, and asked him to stand godfather -to her first boy, and then take him as his page; -but Copplestone was a man who long bore a grudge, and -the boy grew up the image of his father, and so—Copplestone -hated him. One day, when Copplestone was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -out hunting, he called for his stirrup cup, and young Cloberry -ran and brought it to him. But as the squire raised -the wine to his lips he saw a spider in it; and in a rage -he dashed the cup and the contents in the face of the boy. -He hit Oliver Cloberry on the brow, and when the boy -staggered to his feet, he muttered something. Copplestone -heard him, and called to him to speak out, if he were not -a coward. Then the lad exclaimed, “Mother did well -to throw you over for my father.” Some who stood by -laughed, and Copplestone flared up; the boy, afraid at -what he had said, turned to go, then Copplestone threw his -hunting dagger at him, and it struck him in the back, -entered his heart, and he fell dead. Do you believe this -story, Bab?’</p> - -<p>‘There is some truth in it, I know. Prince, in his -“Worthies,” says that Copplestone only escaped losing -his head for the murder by the surrender of thirteen -manors.’</p> - -<p>‘That is not all,’ Eve continued; ‘now comes the -creepy part of the story. Grace Cloberry told me that -every stormy night the Whish Hounds run over the downs, -breathing fire, pursuing Copplestone, from Warleigh to -Bradstone, and that the murdered boy is mounted behind -Copplestone, and stabs him in the back all along the way. -Do you believe this?’</p> - -<p>‘Most assuredly not.’</p> - -<p>‘Why should you not, Bab? Don’t you think that a -man like Copplestone would be unable to rest in his grave? -Would not that be a terrible purgatory for him to be -hunted night after night? Grace told me that old Squire -Cloberry rides and blows his horn to egg-on the Whish -Hounds, and Copplestone has a black horse, and he strikes -spurs into its sides when the boy stabs him in the back, -and screams with pain. When the Judgment Day comes, -then only will his rides be over. I am sure I believe it all, -Bab. It is so horrible.’</p> - -<p>‘It is altogether false, a foolish superstition.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Look there, do you see, Bab, we are at the white -stone with the cross cut in it that my father put up where -he first saw my mother. Is it not strange that no one -knows whence my mother came? You remember her -just a little. Whither did my mother go?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know, Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘There, again, Bab. You who sneer and toss your -chin when I speak of anything out of the ordinary, must -admit this to be passing wonderful. My mother came, no -one knows whence; she went, no one knows whither. -After that, is it hard to believe in the Whish Hounds, and -Black Copplestone?’</p> - -<p>‘The things are not to be compared.’</p> - -<p>‘Your mother was buried at Buckland, and I have -seen her grave. You know that her body is there, and -that her soul is in heaven. But as for mine, I do not -even know whether she had a human soul.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve! What do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘I have read and heard tell of such things. She may -have been a wood-spirit, an elf-maid. Whoever she was, -whatever she was, my father loved her. He loves her still. -I can see that. He seems to me to have her ever in his -thoughts.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara sadly, ‘he never visits my mother’s -grave; I alone care for the flowers there.’</p> - -<p>‘I can look into his heart,’ said Eve. ‘He loves me -so dearly because he loved my mother dearer still.’</p> - -<p>Barbara made no remark to this.</p> - -<p>Then Eve, in her changeful mood, went back to the -former topic of conversation.</p> - -<p>‘Think, think, Bab! of Black Copplestone riding -nightly over these wastes on his black mare, with her tail -streaming behind, and the little page standing on the -crupper, stabbing, stabbing, stabbing; and the Whish -Hounds behind, giving tongue, and Squire Cloberry in -the rear urging them on with his horn. O Bab! I am -sure father believes in this, I should die of fear were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -Copplestone hunted by dogs to pass this way. Hold! -Hark!’ she almost screamed.</p> - -<p>The wind was behind them; they heard a call, then -the tramp of horses’ feet.</p> - -<p>Barbara even was for the moment startled, and drew -the gig aside, off the road upon the common. A black -cloud had rolled over the sickle of the moon, and obscured -its feeble light. Eve could neither move nor speak. She -quaked at Barbara’s side like an aspen.</p> - -<p>In another moment dark figures of men and horses -were visible, advancing at full gallop along the road. The -dull cob the sisters were driving plunged, backed, and was -filled with panic. Then the moon shone out, and a faint, -ghastly light fell on the road, and they could see the black -figures sweeping along. There were two horses, one some -way ahead of the other, and two riders, the first with -slouched hat. But what was that crouched on the crupper, -clinging to the first rider?</p> - -<p>As he swept past, Eve distinguished the imp-like form -of a boy. That wholly unnerved her. She uttered a -piercing shriek, and clasped her hands over her -eyes.</p> - -<p>The first horse had passed, the second was abreast of -the girls when that cry rang out. The horse plunged, -and in a moment horse and rider crashed down, and -appeared to dissolve into the ground.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c22" id="c22">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">EVE’S RING.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Some</span> moments elapsed before Barbara recovered her surprise, -then she spoke a word of encouragement to Eve, -who was in an ecstasy of terror, and tried to disengage -herself from her arms, and master the frightened horse -sufficiently to allow her to descend. A thorn tree tortured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -by the winds stood solitary at a little distance, at a mound -which indicated the presence of a former embankment. -Barbara brought the cob and gig to it, there descended, -and fastened the horse to the tree. Then she helped her -sister out of the vehicle.</p> - -<p>‘Do not be alarmed, Eve. There is nothing here -supernatural to dismay you, only a pair of farmers who -have been drinking, and one has tumbled off his horse. -We must see that he has not broken his neck.’ But Eve -clung to her in frantic terror, and would not allow her to -disengage herself. In the meantime, by the sickle moon, -now sailing clear of the clouds, they could see that the -first rider had reined in his horse and turned.</p> - -<p>‘Jasper!’ he called, ‘what is the matter?’</p> - -<p>No answer came. He rode back to the spot where the -second horse had fallen, and dismounted.</p> - -<p>‘What has happened?’ screamed the boy. ‘I must -get down also.’</p> - -<p>The man who had dismounted pointed to the white -stone and said, ‘Hold the horse and stay there till you are -wanted. I must see what cursed mischance has befallen -Jasper.’</p> - -<p>Eve was somewhat reassured at the sound of human -voices, and she allowed Barbara to release herself, and -advance into the road.</p> - -<p>‘Who are you?’ asked the horseman.</p> - -<p>‘Only a girl. Can I help? Is the man hurt?’</p> - -<p>‘Hurt, of course. He hasn’t fallen into a feather bed, -or—by good luck—into a furze brake.’</p> - -<p>The horse that had fallen struggled to rise.</p> - -<p>‘Out of the way,’ said the man, ‘I must see that the -brute does not trample on him.’ He helped the horse to -his feet; the animal was much shaken and trembled.</p> - -<p>‘Hold the bridle, girl.’ Barbara obeyed. Then the man -went to his fallen comrade and spoke to him, but received -no answer. He raised his arms, and tried if any bones -were broken, then he put his hand to the heart. ‘Give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -the boy the bridle, and come here, you girl. Help me to -loosen his neck-cloth. Is there water near?’</p> - -<p>‘None; we are at the highest point of the moor.’</p> - -<p>‘Damn it! There is water everywhere in over-abundance -in this country, except where it is wanted.’</p> - -<p>‘He is alive,’ said Barbara, kneeling and raising the -head of the prostrate, insensible man. ‘He is stunned, -but he breathes.’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper!’ shouted the man who was unhurt, ‘for -God’s sake, wake up. You know I can’t remain here all -night.’</p> - -<p>No response.</p> - -<p>‘This is desperate. I must press forward. Fatalities -always occur when most inconvenient. I was born to ill-luck. -No help, no refuge near.’</p> - -<p>‘I am by as help; my home not far distant,’ said Barbara, -‘for a refuge.’</p> - -<p>‘O yes—<i>you</i>! What sort of help is that? Your -house! I can’t diverge five miles out of my road for that.’</p> - -<p>‘We live not half an hour from this point.’</p> - -<p>‘O yes—half an hour multiplied by ten. You women -don’t know how to calculate distances, or give a decent -direction.’</p> - -<p>‘The blood is flowing from his head,’ said Barbara: -‘it is cut. He has fallen on a stone.’</p> - -<p>‘What the devil is to be done? I cannot stay.’</p> - -<p>‘Sir,’ said Barbara, ‘of course you stay by your comrade. -Do you think to leave him half dead at night to the -custody of two girls, strangers, on a moor?’</p> - -<p>‘You don’t understand,’ answered the man; ‘I cannot -and I will not stay.’ He put his hand to his head. ‘How -far to your home?’</p> - -<p>‘I have told you, half-an-hour.’</p> - -<p>‘Honour bright—no more?’</p> - -<p>‘I said, half-an-hour.’</p> - -<p>‘Good God, Watt! always a fool?’ He turned sharply -towards the lad who was seated on the stone. The boy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -had unslung a violin from his back, taken it from its case, -had placed it under his chin, and drawn the bow across the -strings.</p> - -<p>‘Have done, Watt! Let go the horses, have you? -What a fate it is for a man to be cumbered with helpless, -useless companions.’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper’s horse is lame,’ answered the boy, ‘so I have -tied the two together, the sound and the cripple, and -neither can get away.’</p> - -<p>‘Like me with Jasper. Damnation—but I must go! -I dare not stay.’</p> - -<p>The boy swung his bow in the moonlight, and above -the raging of the wind rang out the squeal of the instrument. -Eve looked at him, scared. He seemed some -goblin perched on the stone, trying with his magic fiddle -to work a spell on all who heard its tones. The boy -satisfied himself that his violin was in order, and then put -it once more in its case, and cast it over his back.</p> - -<p>‘How is Jasper?’ he shouted; but the man gave him -no answer.</p> - -<p>‘Half-an-hour! Half an eternity to me,’ growled the -man. ‘However, one is doomed to sacrifice self for others. -I will take him to your house and leave him there. Who -live at your house? Are there many men there?’</p> - -<p>‘There is only old Christopher Davy at the lodge, but -he is ill with rheumatics. My father is away.’ Barbara -regretted having said this the moment the words escaped -her.</p> - -<p>The stranger looked about him uneasily, then up at the -moon. ‘I can’t spare more than half-an-hour.’</p> - -<p>Then Barbara said undauntedly, ‘No man, under any -circumstances, can desert a fellow in distress, leaving him, -perhaps, to die. You must lift him into our gig, and we -will convey him to Morwell. Then go your way if you -will. My sister and I will take charge of him, and do our -best for him till you can return.’</p> - -<p>‘Return!’ muttered the man scornfully. ‘Christian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -cast his burden before the cross. He didn’t return to pick -it up again.’</p> - -<p>Barbara waxed wroth.</p> - -<p>‘If the accident had happened to you, would your friend -have excused himself and deserted you?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh!’ exclaimed the man carelessly, ‘of course <i>he</i> -would not.’</p> - -<p>‘Yet you are eager to leave him.’</p> - -<p>‘You do not understand. The cases are widely different.’ -He went to the horses. ‘Halloo!’ he exclaimed -as he now noticed Eve. ‘Another girl springing out of the -turf! Am I among pixies? Turn your face more to the -light. On my oath, and I am a judge, you are a beauty!’ -Then he tried the horse that had fallen; it halted. ‘The -brute is fit for dogs’ meat only,’ he said. ‘Let the fox-hounds -eat him. Is that your gig? We can never lift my -brother——’</p> - -<p>‘Is he your brother?’</p> - -<p>‘We can never pull him up into that conveyance. No, -we must get him astride my horse; you hold him on one -side, I on the other, and so we shall get on. Come here, -Watt, and lend a hand; you help also, Beauty, and see -what you can do.’</p> - -<p>With difficulty the insensible man was raised into the -saddle. He seemed to gather some slight consciousness -when mounted, for he muttered something about pushing -on.</p> - -<p>‘You go round on the further side of the horse,’ said -the man imperiously to Barbara. ‘You seem strong in -the arm, possibly stronger than I am. Beauty! lead the -horse.’</p> - -<p>‘The boy can do that,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘He don’t know the way,’ answered the man. ‘Let -him come on with your old rattletrap. Upon my word, if -Beauty were to throw a bridle over my head, I would be -content to follow her through the world.’</p> - -<p>Thus they went on; the violence, of the gale had somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -abated, but it produced a roar among the heather -and gorse of the moor like that of the sea. Eve, as commanded, -went before, holding the bridle. Her movements -were easy, her form was graceful. She tripped lightly along -with elastic step, unlike the firm tread of her sister. But -then Eve was only leading, and Barbara was sustaining.</p> - -<p>For some distance no one spoke. It was not easy -to speak so as to be heard, without raising the voice; -and now the way led towards the oaks and beeches and -pines about Morwell, and the roar among the branches -was fiercer, louder than that among the bushes of furze.</p> - -<p>Presently the man cried imperiously ‘Halt!’ and -stepping forward caught the bit and roughly arrested the -horse. ‘I am certain we are followed.’</p> - -<p>‘What if we are?’ asked Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘What if we are!’ echoed the man. ‘Why, everything -to me.’ He put his hands against the injured man; Barbara -was sure he meant to thrust him out of the saddle, -leap into it himself, and make off. She said, ‘We are -followed by the boy with our gig.’</p> - -<p>Then he laughed. ‘Ah! I forgot that. When a man -has money about him and no firearms, he is nervous in -such a blast-blown desert as this, where girls who may be -decoys pop out of every furze bush.’</p> - -<p>‘Lead on, Eve,’ said Barbara, affronted at his insolence. -She was unable to resist the impulse to say, across the -horse, ‘You are not ashamed to let two girls see that you -are a coward.’</p> - -<p>The man struck his arm across the crupper of the horse, -caught her bonnet-string and tore it away.</p> - -<p>‘I will beat your brains out against the saddle if you -insult me.’</p> - -<p>‘A coward is always cruel,’ answered Barbara; as she -said this she stood off, lest he should strike again, but he -took no notice of her last words, perhaps had not caught -them. She said no more, deeming it unwise to provoke -such a man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<p>Presently, turning his head, he asked, ‘Did you call -that girl—Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; she is my sister.’</p> - -<p>‘That is odd,’ remarked the man. ‘Eve! Eve!’</p> - -<p>‘Did you call me?’ asked the young girl who was -leading.</p> - -<p>‘I was repeating your name, sweet as your face.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on, Eve,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>The path descended, and became rough with -stones.</p> - -<p>‘He is moving,’ said Barbara. ‘He said something.’</p> - -<p>‘Martin!’ spoke the injured man.</p> - -<p>‘I am at your side, Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘I am hurt—where am I?’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot tell you; heaven knows. In some God-forgotten -waste.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not leave me!’</p> - -<p>‘Never, Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘You promise me?’</p> - -<p>‘With all my heart.’</p> - -<p>‘I must trust you, Martin,—trust you.’</p> - -<p>Then he said no more, and sank back into half-consciousness.</p> - -<p>‘How much farther?’ asked the man who walked. ‘I -call this a cursed long half-hour. To women time is -nought; but every moment to me is of consequence. I -must push on.’</p> - -<p>‘You have just promised not to desert your friend, -your brother.’</p> - -<p>‘It pacified him, and sent him to sleep again.’</p> - -<p>‘It was a promise.’</p> - -<p>‘You promise a child the moon when it cries, but it -never gets it. How much farther?’</p> - -<p>‘We are at Morwell.’</p> - -<p>They issued from the lane, and were before the old -gatehouse of Morwell; a light shone through the window -over the entrance door.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Old Davy is up there, ill. He cannot come down. -The gate is open; we will go in,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘I am glad we are here,’ said the man called Martin; -‘now we must bestir ourselves.’</p> - -<p>Thoughtlessly he struck the horse with his whip, and -the beast started, nearly precipitating the rider to the -ground. The man on it groaned. The injured man was -lifted down.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ said Barbara, ‘run in and tell Jane to come -out, and see that a bed be got ready at once, in the lower -room.’</p> - -<p>Presently out came a buxom womanservant, and with -her assistance the man was taken off the horse and carried -indoors.</p> - -<p>A bedroom was on the ground-floor opening out of the -hall. Into this Eve led the way with a light, and the -patient was laid on a bed hastily made ready for his -reception. His coat was removed, and Barbara examined -the head.</p> - -<p>‘Here is a gash to the bone,’ she said, ‘and much -blood is flowing from it. Jane, come with me, and we will -get what is necessary.’</p> - -<p>Martin was left alone in the room with Eve and the -man called Jasper. Martin moved, so that the light fell -over her; and he stood contemplating her with wonder -and admiration. She was marvellously beautiful, slender, -not tall, and perfectly proportioned. Her hair was of the -richest auburn, full of gloss and warmth. She had the -exquisite complexion that so often accompanies hair of this -colour. Her eyes were large and blue. The pure oval -face was set on a delicate neck, round which hung a kerchief, -which she now untied and cast aside.</p> - -<p>‘How lovely you are!’ said Martin. A rich blush -overspread her cheek and throat, and tinged her little ears. -Her eyes fell. His look was bold.</p> - -<p>Then, almost unconscious of what he was doing, as an -act of homage, Martin removed his slouched hat, and for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -the first time Eve saw what he was like, when she timidly -raised her eyes. With surprise she saw a young face. -The man with the imperious manner was not much above -twenty, and was remarkably handsome. He had dark -hair, a pale skin, very large, soft dark eyes, velvety, enclosed -within dark lashes. His nose was regular, the -nostrils delicately arched and chiselled. His lip was -fringed with a young moustache. There was a remarkable -refinement and tenderness in the face. Eve could hardly -withdraw her wondering eyes from him. Such a face she -had never seen, never even dreamed of as possible. Here -was a type of masculine beauty that transcended all her -imaginings. She had met very few young men, and those -she did meet were somewhat uncouth, addicted to the stable -and the kennel, and redolent of both, more at home following -the hounds or shooting than associating with ladies. -There was so much of innocent admiration in the gaze of -simple Eve that Martin was flattered, and smiled.</p> - -<p>‘Beauty!’ he said, ‘who would have dreamed to have -stumbled on the likes of you on the moor? Nay, rather -let me bless my stars that I have been vouchsafed the -privilege of meeting and speaking with a real fairy. It is -said that you must never encounter a fairy without taking -of her a reminiscence, to be a charm through life.’</p> - -<p>Suddenly he put his hand to her throat. She had a -delicate blue riband about it, disclosed when she cast aside -her kerchief. He put his finger between the riband and -her throat, and pulled.</p> - -<p>‘You are strangling me!’ exclaimed Eve, shrinking -away, alarmed at his boldness.</p> - -<p>‘I care not,’ he replied, ‘this I will have.’</p> - -<p>He wrenched at and broke the riband, and then drew -it from her neck. As he did so a gold ring fell on the -floor. He stooped, picked it up, and put it on his little -finger.</p> - -<p>‘Look,’ said he with a laugh, ‘my hand is so small, -my fingers so slim—I can wear this ring.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Give it me back! Let me have it! You must not -take it!’ Eve was greatly agitated and alarmed. ‘I may -not part with it. It was my mother’s.’</p> - -<p>Then, with the same daring insolence with which he -had taken the ring, he caught the girl to him, and kissed -her.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c31" id="c31">CHAPTER V.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE LIMPING HORSE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Eve</span> drew herself away with a cry of anger and alarm, and -with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. At that moment -her sister returned with Jane, and immediately Martin reassumed -his hat with broad brim. Barbara did not notice -the excitement of Eve; she had not observed the incident, -because she entered a moment too late to do so, and no -suspicion that the stranger would presume to take such a -liberty crossed her mind.</p> - -<p>Eve stood back behind the door, with hands on her -bosom to control its furious beating, and with head depressed -to conceal the heightened colour.</p> - -<p>Barbara and the maid stooped over the unconscious -man, and whilst Martin held a light, they dressed and -bandaged his head.</p> - -<p>Presently his eyes opened, a flicker of intelligence -passed through them, they rested on Martin; a smile for -a moment kindled the face, and the lips moved.</p> - -<p>‘He wants to speak to you,’ said Barbara, noticing the -direction of the eyes, and the expression that came into -them.</p> - -<p>‘What do you want, Jasper?’ asked Martin, putting -his hand on that of the other.</p> - -<p>The candlelight fell on the two hands, and Barbara -noticed the contrast. That of Martin was delicate as the -hand of a woman, narrow, with taper fingers, and white; -that of Jasper was strong, darkened by exposure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Will you be so good as to undress him,’ said Barbara, -‘and put him to bed? My sister will assist me in the -kitchen. Jane, if you desire help, is at your service.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, go,’ said Martin, ‘but return speedily, as I cannot -stay many minutes.’</p> - -<p>Then the girls left the room.</p> - -<p>‘I do not want you,’ he said roughly to the serving -woman. ‘Take yourself off; when I need you I will call. -No prying at the door.’ He went after her, thrust Jane -forth and shut the door behind her. Then he returned to -Jasper, removed his clothes, somewhat ungently, with -hasty hands. When his waistcoat was off, Martin felt in -the inner breast-pocket, and drew from it a pocket-book. -He opened it, and transferred the contents to his own -purse, then replaced the book and proceeded with the undressing.</p> - -<p>When Jasper was divested of his clothes, and laid at -his ease in the bed, his head propped on pillows, Martin -went to the door and called the girls. He was greatly -agitated, Barbara observed it. His lower lip trembled. -Eve hung back in the kitchen, she could not return.</p> - -<p>Martin said in eager tones, ‘I have done for him all I -can, now I am in haste to be off.’</p> - -<p>‘But,’ remonstrated Barbara, ‘he is your brother.’</p> - -<p>‘My brother!’ laughed Martin. ‘He is no relation of -mine. He is naught to me and I am naught to him.’</p> - -<p>‘You called him your brother.’</p> - -<p>‘That was tantamount to comrade. All sons of Adam -are brothers, at least in misfortune. I do not even know -the fellow’s name.’</p> - -<p>‘Why,’ said Barbara, ‘this is very strange. You call -him Jasper, and he named you Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ said the man hesitatingly, ‘we are chance -travellers, riding along the same road. He asked my -name and I gave it him—my surname. I am a Mr. Martin—he -mistook me; and in exchange he gave me his -Christian name. That is how I knew it. If anyone asks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -about this event, you can say that Mr. Martin passed this -way and halted awhile at your house, on his road to Tavistock.</p> - -<p>‘You are going to Tavistock?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, that is my destination.’</p> - -<p>‘In that case I will not seek to detain you. Call up -Doctor Crooke and send him here.’</p> - -<p>‘I will do so. You furnish me with an additional -motive for haste to depart.’</p> - -<p>‘Go,’ said Barbara. ‘God grant the poor man may -not die.’</p> - -<p>‘Die! pshaw! die!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Men aren’t -such brittle ware as that pretty sister of yours. A fall -from a horse don’t kill a man. If it did, fox-hunting -would not be such a popular sport. To-morrow, or the -day after, Mr. Jasper What’s-his-name will be on his feet -again. Hush! What do I hear?’</p> - -<p>His cheek turned pale, but Barbara did not see it; he -kept his face studiously away from the light.</p> - -<p>‘Your horse which you hitched up outside neighed, -that is all.’</p> - -<p>‘That is a great deal. It would not neigh at -nothing.’</p> - -<p>He went out. Barbara told the maid to stay by the -sick man, and went after Martin. She thought that in all -probability the boy had arrived driving the gig.</p> - -<p>Martin stood irresolute in the doorway. The horse -that had borne the injured man had been brought into the -courtyard, and hitched up at the hall door. Martin looked -across the quadrangle. The moon was shining into it. -A yellow glimmer came from the sick porter’s window -over the great gate. The large gate was arched, a laden -waggon might pass under it. It was unprovided with -doors. Through it the moonlight could be seen on the -paved ground in front of the old lodge.</p> - -<p>A sound of horse-hoofs was audible approaching slowly, -uncertainly, on the stony ground; but no wheels.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘What can the boy have done with our gig?’ asked -Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Will you be quiet?’ exclaimed Martin angrily.</p> - -<p>‘I protest—you are trembling,’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘May not a man shiver when he is cold?’ answered -the man.</p> - -<p>She saw him shrink back into the shadow of the -entrance as something appeared in the moonlight outside -the gatehouse, indistinctly seen, moving strangely.</p> - -<p>Again the horse neighed.</p> - -<p>They saw the figure come on haltingly out of the light -into the blackness of the shadow of the gate, pass through, -and emerge into the moonlight of the court.</p> - -<p>Then both saw that the lame horse that had been -deserted on the moor had followed, limping and slowly, as -it was in pain, after the other horse. Barbara went at -once to the poor beast, saying, ‘I will put you in a stall,’ -but in another moment she returned with a bundle in her -hand.</p> - -<p>‘What have you there?’ asked Martin, who was -mounting his horse, pointing with his whip to what she -carried.</p> - -<p>‘I found this strapped to the saddle.’</p> - -<p>‘Give it to me.’</p> - -<p>‘It does not belong to you. It belongs to the other—to -Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘Let me look through the bundle; perhaps by that -means we may discover his name.’</p> - -<p>‘I will examine it when you are gone. I will not -detain you; ride on for the doctor.’</p> - -<p>‘I insist on having that bundle,’ said Martin. ‘Give -it me, or I will strike you.’ He raised his whip.</p> - -<p>‘Only a coward would strike a woman. I will not -give you the bundle. It is not yours. As you said, this -man Jasper is naught to you, nor you to him.’</p> - -<p>‘I will have it,’ he said with a curse, and stooped from -the saddle to wrench it from her hands. Barbara was too<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -quick for him; she stepped back into the doorway and -slammed the door upon him, and bolted it.</p> - -<p>He uttered an ugly oath, then turned and rode through -the courtyard. ‘After all,’ he said, ‘what does it matter? -We were fools not to be rid of it before.’</p> - -<p>As he passed out of the gatehouse, he saw Eve in the -moonlight, approaching timidly.</p> - -<p>‘You must give me back my ring!’ she pleaded; ‘you -have no right to keep it.’</p> - -<p>‘Must I, Beauty? Where is the compulsion?’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, indeed you must.’</p> - -<p>‘Then I will—but not now; at some day in the future, -when we meet again.’</p> - -<p>‘O give it me now! It belonged to my mother, and -she is dead.’</p> - -<p>‘Come! What will you give me for it? Another -kiss?’</p> - -<p>Then from close by burst a peal of impish laughter, -and the boy bounded out of the shadow of a yew tree into -the moonlight.</p> - -<p>‘Halloo, Martin! always hanging over a pretty face, -detained by it when you should be galloping. I’ve upset -the gig and broken it; give me my place again on the -crupper.’</p> - -<p>He ran, leaped, and in an instant was behind Martin. -The horse bounded away, and Eve heard the clatter of the -hoofs as it galloped up the lane to the moor.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c35" id="c35">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara Jordan</span> sat by the sick man with her knitting -on her lap, and her eyes fixed on his face. He was asleep, -and the sun would have shone full on him had she not -drawn a red curtain across the window, which subdued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -the light, and diffused a warm glow over the bed. He -was breathing calmly; danger was over.</p> - -<p>On the morning after the eventful night, Mr. Jordan -had returned to Morwell, and had been told what had -happened—at least, the major part—and had seen the sick -man. He, Jasper, was then still unconscious. The doctor -from Tavistock had not arrived. The family awaited him -all day, and Barbara at last suspected that Martin had not -taken the trouble to deliver her message. She did not like -to send again, expecting him hourly. Then a doubt rose -in her mind whether Doctor Crooke might not have refused -to come. Her father had made some slighting remarks -about him in company lately. It was possible that these -had been repeated and the doctor had taken umbrage.</p> - -<p>The day passed, and as he did not arrive, and as the -sick man remained unconscious, on the second morning -Barbara sent a foot messenger to Beer Alston, where -was a certain Mr. James Coyshe, surgeon, a young man, -reputed to be able, not long settled there. The gig was -broken, and the cob in trying to escape from the upset -vehicle had cut himself about the legs, and was unfit for a -journey. The Jordans had but one carriage horse. The -gig lay wrecked in the lane; the boy had driven it against -a gate-post of granite, and smashed the axle and the -splashboard and a wheel.</p> - -<p>Coyshe arrived; he was a tall young man, with hair -cut very short, very large light whiskers, prominent eyes, -and big protruding ears.</p> - -<p>‘He is suffering from congestion of the brain,’ said the -surgeon; ‘if he does not awake to-morrow, order his grave -to be dug.’</p> - -<p>‘Can you do nothing for him?’ asked Miss Jordan.</p> - -<p>‘Nothing better than leave him in your hands,’ said -Coyshe with a bow.</p> - -<p>This was all that had passed between Barbara and the -doctor. Now the third day was gone, and the man’s brain -had recovered from the pressure on it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> - -<p>As Barbara knitted, she stole many a glance at Jasper’s -face; presently, finding that she had dropped stitches and -made false counts, she laid her knitting in her lap, and -watched the sleeper with undivided attention and with a -face full of perplexity, as though trying to read the answer -to a question which puzzled her, and not finding the -answer where she sought it, or finding it different from -what she anticipated.</p> - -<p>In appearance Barbara was very different from her -sister. Her face was round, her complexion olive, her -eyes very dark. She was strongly built, without grace -of form, a sound, hearty girl, hale to her heart’s core. -She was not beautiful, her features were without chiselling, -but her abundant hair, her dark eyes, and the -sensible, honest expression of her face redeemed it from -plainness. She had practical common sense; Eve had -beauty. Barbara was content with the distribution; perfectly -satisfied to believe herself destitute of personal -charms, and ready to excuse every act of thoughtlessness -committed by her sister. Barbara rose from her seat, -laid aside the knitting, and went to a carved oak box -that stood against the wall, ornamented with the figure -of a man in trunk hose, with a pair of eagles’ heads -in the place of a human face. She raised the lid and -looked in. There lay, neatly folded, the contents of -Jasper’s bundle, a coarse grey and yellow suit—a suit so -peculiar in cut and colour that there was no mistaking -whence it had come, and what he was who had worn it. -Barbara shut the chest and returned to her place, and her -look was troubled. Her eyes were again fixed on the -sleeper. His face was noble. It was pale from loss of -blood. The hair was black, the eyes were closed, but the -lashes were long and dark. His nose was aquiline without -being over-strongly characterised, his lips were thin and -well moulded. The face, even in sleep, bore an expression -of gravity, dignity, and integrity. Barbara found it hard -to associate such a face with crime, and yet how else could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -she account for that convict garb she had found rolled up -and strapped to his saddle, and which she had laid in the -trunk?</p> - -<p>Prisoners escaped now and again from the great jail on -Dartmoor. This was one of them. As she sat watching -him, puzzling her mind over this, his eyes opened, and he -smiled. The smile was remarkably sweet. His eyes were -large, dark and soft, and from being sunken through sickness, -appeared to fill his face. Barbara rose hastily, and, -going to the fireplace, brought from it some beef-tea that -had been warming at the small fire. She put it to his -lips; he thanked her, sighed, and lay back. She said not -a word, but resumed her knitting.</p> - -<p>From this moment their positions were reversed. It -was now she who was watched by him. When she looked -up, she encountered his dark eyes. She coloured a little, -and impatiently turned her chair on one side, so as to conceal -her face. A couple of minutes after, sensible in every -nerve that she was being observed, unable to keep her -eyes away, spell-drawn, she glanced at him again. He -was still watching her. Then she moved to her former -position, bit her lip, frowned, and said, ‘Are you in want -of anything?’</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>‘You are sufficiently yourself to remain alone for a few -minutes,’ she said, stood up, and left the room. She had -the management of the house, and, indeed, of the farm on -her hands; her usual assistant in setting the labourers -their work, old Christopher Davy, was ill with rheumatism. -This affair had happened at an untoward moment, -but is it not always so? A full hour had elapsed before -Miss Jordan returned. Then she saw that the convalescent’s -eyes were closed. He was probably again asleep, -and sleep was the best thing for him. She reseated herself -by his bedside, and resumed her knitting. A moment -after she was again aware that his eyes were on her. She -had herself watched him so intently whilst he was asleep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -that a smile came involuntarily to her lips. She was -being repaid in her own coin. The smile encouraged him -to speak.</p> - -<p>‘How long have I been here?’</p> - -<p>‘Four days.’</p> - -<p>‘Have I been very ill?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, insensible, sometimes rambling.’</p> - -<p>‘What made me ill? What ails my head?’ He put -his hand to the bandages.</p> - -<p>‘You have had a fall from your horse.’</p> - -<p>He did not speak for a moment or two. His thoughts -moved slowly. After a while he asked, ‘Where did I -fall?’</p> - -<p>‘On the moor—Morwell Down.’</p> - -<p>‘I can remember nothing. When was it?’</p> - -<p>‘Four days ago.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes—you have told me so. I forgot. My head is -not clear, there is singing and spinning in it. To-day -is——?’</p> - -<p>‘To-day is Monday.’</p> - -<p>‘What day was that—four days ago?’</p> - -<p>‘Thursday.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Thursday. I cannot think to reckon backwards. -Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I can go on, but not backward. -It pains me. I can recall Thursday.’ He sighed -and turned his head to the wall. ‘Thursday night—yes. -I remember no more.’</p> - -<p>After a while he turned his head round to Barbara and -asked, ‘Where am I now?’</p> - -<p>‘At Morwell House.’</p> - -<p>He asked no more questions for a quarter of an hour. -He was taking in and turning over the information he had -received. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. His -face was very pale, like marble, but not like marble in this, -that across it travelled changes of expression that stirred -the muscles. Do what she would Barbara could not keep -her eyes off him. The horrible mystery about the man,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -the lie given to her thoughts of him by his face, forced her -to observe him.</p> - -<p>Presently he opened his eyes, and met hers; she recoiled -as if smitten with a guilty feeling at her heart.</p> - -<p>‘You have always been with me whilst I was unconscious -and rambling,’ he said earnestly.</p> - -<p>‘I have been a great deal with you, but not always. -The maid, Jane, and an old woman who comes in occasionally -to char, have shared with me the task. You have -not been neglected.’</p> - -<p>‘I know well when you have been by me—and when -you have been away. Sometimes I have felt as if I lay on -a bank with wild thyme under me——’</p> - -<p>‘That is because we put thyme with our linen,’ said -the practical Barbara.</p> - -<p>He did not notice the explanation, but went on, ‘And -the sun shone on my face, but a pleasant air fanned me. -At other times all was dark and hot and miserable.’</p> - -<p>‘That was according to the stages of your illness.’</p> - -<p>‘No, I think I was content when you were in the room, -and distressed when you were away. Some persons exert -a mesmeric power of soothing.’</p> - -<p>‘Sick men get strange fancies,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>He rose on his elbow, and held out his hand.</p> - -<p>‘I know that I owe my life to you, young lady. Allow -me to thank you. My life is of no value to any but myself. -I have not hitherto regarded it much. Now I shall esteem -it, as saved by you. I thank you. May I touch your hand?’</p> - -<p>He took her fingers and put them to his lips.</p> - -<p>‘This hand is firm and strong,’ he said, ‘but gentle as -the wing of a dove.’</p> - -<p>She coldly withdrew her fingers.</p> - -<p>‘Enough of thanks,’ she said bluntly. ‘I did but my -duty.’</p> - -<p>‘Was there——’ he hesitated—’anyone with me when -I was found, or was I alone?’</p> - -<p>‘There were two—a man and a boy.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<p>His face became troubled. He began a question, then -let it die in his mouth, began another, but could not bring -it to an end.</p> - -<p>‘And they—where are they?’ he asked at length.</p> - -<p>‘That one called Martin brought you here.’</p> - -<p>‘He did!’ exclaimed Jasper, eagerly.</p> - -<p>‘That is—he assisted in bringing you here.’ Barbara -was so precise and scrupulous about truth, that she felt -herself obliged to modify her first assertion. ‘Then, when -he saw you safe in our hands, he left you.’</p> - -<p>‘Did he—did he say anything about me?’</p> - -<p>‘Once—but that I suppose was by a slip, he called you -brother. Afterwards he asserted that you were nothing to -him, nor he to you.’</p> - -<p>Jasper’s face was moved with painful emotions, but it -soon cleared, and he said, ‘Yes, I am nothing to him—nothing. -He is gone. He did well. I was, as he said—and -he spoke the truth—nothing to him.’</p> - -<p>Then, hastily, to turn the subject, ‘Excuse me. Where -am I now? And, young lady, if you will not think it rude -of me to inquire, who are you to whom I owe my poor -life?’</p> - -<p>‘This, as I have already said, is Morwell, and I am the -daughter of the gentleman who resides in it, Mr. Ignatius -Jordan.’</p> - -<p>He fell back on the bed, a deadly greyness came over -his face, he raised his hands: ‘My God! my God! this is -most wonderful. Thy ways are past finding out.’</p> - -<p>‘What is wonderful?’ asked Barbara.</p> - -<p>He did not answer, but partially raised himself again -in bed.</p> - -<p>‘Where are my clothes?’ he asked.</p> - -<p>‘Which clothes?’ inquired Barbara, and her voice was -hard, and her expression became stern. She hesitated for -a moment, then went to the chest and drew forth the suit -that had been rolled up on the pommel of the saddle; -also that which he had worn when he met with the accident.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -She held one in each hand, and returned to the -bed.</p> - -<p>‘Which?’ she asked gravely, fixing her eyes on him.</p> - -<p>He looked from one to the other, and his pale face -turned a chalky white. Then he said in a low tremulous -tone, ‘I want my waistcoat.’</p> - -<p>She gave it him. He felt eagerly about it, drew the -pocket-book from the breast-pocket, opened it and fell -back.</p> - -<p>‘Gone!’ he moaned, ‘gone!’</p> - -<p>The garment dropped from his fingers upon the floor, -his eyes became glassy and fixed, and scarlet spots of -colour formed in his cheeks.</p> - -<p>After this he became feverish, and tossed in his bed, -put his hand to his brow, plucked at the bandages, asked -for water, and his pulse quickened.</p> - -<p>Towards evening he seemed conscious that his senses -were slipping beyond control. He called repeatedly for -the young lady, and Jane, who attended him then, was -obliged to fetch Barbara.</p> - -<p>The sun was setting when she came into the room. -She despatched Jane about some task that had to be done, -and, coming to the side of the bed, said in a constrained -voice, ‘Yes, what do you require? I am here.’</p> - -<p>He lifted himself. His eyes were glowing with fever; -he put out his hand and clasped her wrist; his hand was -burning. His lips quivered; his face was full of a fiery -eagerness.</p> - -<p>‘I entreat you! you are so good, so kind! You have -surprised a secret. I beseech you let no one else into -it—no one have a suspicion of it. I am hot. I am in -a fever. I am afraid what I may say when others are by -me. I would go on my knees to you could I rise. I pray -you, I pray you——’ he put his hands together, ‘do not -leave me if I become delirious. It is a hard thing to ask. -I have no claim on you; but I fear. I would have none -but you know what I say, and I may say strange things if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -my mind becomes deranged with fever. You feel my hand, -is it not like a red-hot-coal? You know that I am likely -to wander. Stay by me—in pity—in mercy—for the love -of God—for the love of God!’</p> - -<p>His hand, a fiery hand, grasped her wrist convulsively. -She stood by his bed, greatly moved, much stung with -self-reproach. It was cruel of her to act as she had done, -to show him that convict suit, and let him see that she -knew his vileness. It was heartless, wicked of her, when -the poor fellow was just returned to consciousness, to cast -him back into his misery and shame by the sight of that -degrading garment.</p> - -<p>Spots of colour came into her cheeks almost as deep as -those which burnt in the sick man’s face.</p> - -<p>‘I should have considered he was ill, that he was under -my charge,’ she said, and laid her left hand on his to -intimate that she sought to disengage her wrist from his -grasp.</p> - -<p>At the touch his eyes, less wild, looked pleadingly at -her.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘I——’</p> - -<p>‘Why do you call me Mr. Jasper?’</p> - -<p>‘That other man gave you the name.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, my name is Jasper. And yours?’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara. I am Miss Barbara Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘Will you promise what I asked?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I will stay by you all night, and whatever -passes your lips shall never pass mine.’</p> - -<p>He smiled, and gave a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>‘How good you are! How good! Barbara Jordan.’</p> - -<p>He did not call her Miss, and she felt slightly piqued. -He, a convict, to speak of her thus! But she pacified her -wounded pride with the consideration that his mind was -disturbed by fever.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c44" id="c44">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">A NIGHT-WATCH.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> had passed her word to remain all night with the -sick man, should he prove delirious; she was scrupulously -conscientious, and in spite of her father’s remonstrance -and assurance that old Betty Westlake could look after the -fellow well enough, she remained in the sick room after -the rest had gone to bed.</p> - -<p>That Jasper was fevered was indubitable; he was hot -and restless, tossing his head from side to side on the -pillow, and it was not safe to leave him, lest he should disarrange -his bandage, lest, in an access of fever, he should -leap from his bed and do himself an injury.</p> - -<p>After everyone had retired the house became very still. -Barbara poked and made up the fire. It must not become -too large, as the nights were not cold, and it must not be -allowed to go out.</p> - -<p>Jasper did not speak, but he opened his eyes occasionally, -and looked at his nurse with a strange light in his -eyes that alarmed her. What if he were to become frantic? -What—worse—were he to die? He was only half conscious, -he did not seem to know who she was. His lips -twitched and moved, but no voice came. Then he clasped -both hands over his brow, and moaned, and plucked at the -bandages. ‘You must not do that,’ said Barbara Jordan, -rising from her chair and going beside him. He glared at -her from his burning eyes without intelligence. Then she -laid her cool hand on his strapped brow, and he let his arms -fall, and lay still, and the twitching of his mouth ceased. -The pressure of her hand eased, soothed him. Directly -she withdrew her hand he began to murmur and move, -and cry out, ‘O Martin! Martin!’</p> - -<p>Then he put forth his hand and opened it wide, and -closed it again, in a wild, restless, unmeaning manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -Next he waved it excitedly, as if in vehement conversation -or earnest protest. Barbara spoke to him, but he -did not hear her. She urged him to lie quiet and not -excite himself, but her words, if they entered his ear, -conveyed no message to the brain. He snatched at his -bandage.</p> - -<p>‘You shall not do that,’ she said, and caught his hand, -and held it down firmly on the coverlet. Then, at once, -he was quiet. He continued turning his head on the pillow, -but he did not stir his arm. When she attempted to -withdraw her hand he would not suffer her. Once, when -almost by main force, she plucked her hand away, he became -excited and tried to rise in his bed. In terror, to -pacify him, she gave him her hand again. She moved her -chair close to the bed, where she could sit facing him, and -let him hold her left hand with his left. He was quiet at -once. It seemed to her that her cool, calmly flowing blood -poured its healing influence through her hand up his arm -to his tossing, troubled head. Thus she was obliged to sit -all night, hand in hand with the man she was constrained -to pity, but whom, for his guilt, she loathed.</p> - -<p>He became cooler, his pulse beat less fiercely, his hand -was less burning and dry. She saw him pass from vexing -dreams into placid sleep. She was unable to knit, to do -any work all night. She could do nothing other than -sit, hour after hour, with her eyes on his face, trying to -unravel the riddle, to reconcile that noble countenance -with an evil life. And when she could not solve it, she -closed her eyes and prayed, and her prayer was concerned, -like her thoughts, with the man who lay in fever and pain, -and who clasped her so resolutely. Towards dawn his -eyes opened, and there was no more vacancy and fire in -them. Then she went to the little casement and opened it. -The fresh, sweet air of early morning rushed in, and with -the air came the song of awakening thrushes, the spiral -twitter of the lark. One fading star was still shining in a -sky that was laying aside its sables.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>She went back to the bedside and said gently, ‘You -are better.’</p> - -<p>‘Thank you,’ he answered. ‘I have given you much -trouble.’</p> - -<p>She shook her head, she did not speak. Something -rose in her throat. She had extinguished the lamp. In -the grey dawn the face on the bed looked death-like, and a -gush of tenderness, of pity for the patient, filled Barbara’s -heart. She brought a basin and a sponge, and, leaning -over him, washed his face. He thanked her with his sweet -smile, a smile that told of pain. It affected Barbara -strangely. She drew a long breath. She could not speak. -If she had attempted to do so she would have sobbed; for -she was tired with her continued watching. To be a nurse -to the weak, whether to a babe or a wounded man, brings -out all the sweet springs in a woman’s soul; and poor -Barbara, against her judgment, felt that every gentle vein -in her heart was oozing with pity, love, solicitude, mercy, -faith and hope. What eyes that Jasper had! so gentle, -soft, and truthful. Could treachery, cruelty, dishonesty -lurk beneath them?</p> - -<p>A question trembled on Barbara’s lips. She longed to -ask him something about himself, to know the truth, to -have that horrible enigma solved. She leaned her hand -on the back of the chair, and put the other to her lips.</p> - -<p>‘What is it?’ he asked suddenly.</p> - -<p>She started. He had read her thoughts. Her eyes -met his, and, as they met, her eyes answered and said, -‘Yes, there is a certain matter. I cannot rest till I -know.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure,’ he said, ‘there is something you wish to -say, but are afraid lest you should excite me.’</p> - -<p>She was silent.</p> - -<p>‘I am better now; the wind blows cool over me, -and the morning light refreshes me. Do not be afraid. -Speak.’</p> - -<p>She hesitated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Speak,’ he said. ‘I am fully conscious and self-possessed -now.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘It is right that I should know -for certain what you are.’ She halted. She shrank from -the question. He remained waiting. Then she asked with -a trembling voice, ‘Is that convict garment yours?’</p> - -<p>He turned away his face sharply.</p> - -<p>She waited for the answer. He did not reply. His -breast heaved and his whole body shook, the very bed -quivered with suppressed emotion.</p> - -<p>‘Do not be afraid,’ she said, in measured tones. ‘I -will not betray you. I have nursed you and fed you, and -bathed your head. No, never! never! whatever your -crime may have been, will I betray you. No one in the -house suspects. No eyes but mine have seen that garment. -Do not mistrust me; not by word or look will I divulge the -secret, but I must know all.’</p> - -<p>Still he did not reply. His face was turned away, but -she saw the working of the muscles of his cheek-bone, and -the throb of the great vein in his temple. Barbara felt a -flutter of compunction in her heart. She had again overagitated -this unhappy man when he was not in a condition -to bear it. She knew she had acted precipitately, unfairly, -but the suspense had become to her unendurable.</p> - -<p>‘I have done wrong to ask the question,’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ he answered, and looked at her. His large eyes, -sunken and lustrous with sickness, met hers, and he saw -that tears were trembling on her lids.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ he said, ‘you did right to ask;’ then paused. -‘The garment—the prison garment is mine.’</p> - -<p>A catch in Barbara’s breath; she turned her head -hastily and walked towards the door. Near the door stood -the oak chest carved with the eagle-headed man. She -stooped, threw it open, caught up the convict clothes, -rolled them together, and ran up into the attic, where she -secreted them in a place none but herself would be likely -to look into.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> - -<p>A moment after she reappeared, composed.</p> - -<p>‘A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,’ -said Miss Jordan gravely. ‘Amongst other news he brought -was this, that a convict had recently broken out from the -prison at Prince’s Town on Dartmoor, and was thought to -have escaped off the moor.’ He listened and made no -answer, but sighed heavily. ‘You are safe here,’ she said; -‘your secret remains here’—she touched her breast. ‘My -father, my sister, none of the maids suspect anything. -Never let us allude to this matter again, and I hope that as -soon as you are sufficiently recovered you will go your -way.’</p> - -<p>The door opened gently and Eve appeared, fresh and -lovely as a May blossom.</p> - -<p>‘Bab, dear sister,’ said the young girl, ‘let me sit by -him now. You must have a nap. You take everything -upon you—you are tired. Why, Barbara, surely you have -been crying?’</p> - -<p>‘I——crying!’ exclaimed the elder angrily. ‘What -have I had to make me cry? No; I am tired, and my -eyes burn.’</p> - -<p>‘Then close them and sleep for a couple of hours.’</p> - -<p>Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. -In the early morning none of the servants could be spared -to sit with the sick man.</p> - -<p>Eve went to the table and arranged a bunch of oxlips, -dripping with dew, in a glass of water.</p> - -<p>‘How sweet they are!’ she said, smiling. ‘Smell -them, they will do you good. These are of the old monks’ -planting; they grow in abundance in the orchard, but -nowhere else. The oxlips and the orchis suit together -perfectly. If the oxlip had been a little more yellow and -the orchis a little more purple, they would have made an -ill-assorted posy.’</p> - -<p>Jasper looked at the flowers, then at her.</p> - -<p>‘Are you her sister?’</p> - -<p>‘What, Barbara’s sister?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Yes, her name is Barbara.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course I am.’</p> - -<p>He looked at Eve. He could trace in her no likeness -to her sister. Involuntarily he said, ‘You are very beautiful.’</p> - -<p>She coloured—with pleasure. Twice within a few -days the same compliment had been paid her.</p> - -<p>‘What is your name, young lady?’</p> - -<p>‘My name is Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ repeated Jasper. ‘How strange!’</p> - -<p>Twice also, within a few days, had this remark been -passed on her name.</p> - -<p>‘Why should it be strange?’</p> - -<p>‘Because that was also the name of my mother and of -my sister.’</p> - -<p>‘Is your mother alive?’</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>‘And your sister?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know. I remember her only faintly, and my -father never speaks of her.’ Then he changed the subject. -‘You are very unlike Miss Barbara. I should not have -supposed you were sisters.’</p> - -<p>‘We are half-sisters. We had not the same mother.’</p> - -<p>He was exhausted with speaking, and turned towards -the wall. Eve seated herself in the chair vacated by Barbara. -She occupied her fingers with making a cowslip -ball, and when it was made she tossed it. Then, as he -moved, she feared that she disturbed him, so she put the -ball on the table, from which, however, it rolled off.</p> - -<p>Jasper turned as she was groping for it.</p> - -<p>‘Do I trouble you?’ she said. ‘Honour bright, I will -sit quiet.’</p> - -<p>How beautiful she looked with her chestnut hair; how -delicate and pearly was her lovely neck; what sweet eyes -were hers, blue as a heaven full of sunshine!</p> - -<p>‘Have you sat much with me, Miss Eve, whilst I have -been ill?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Not much; my sister would not suffer me. I am such -a fidget that she thought I might irritate you; such a -giddypate that I might forget your draughts and compresses. -Barbara is one of those people who do all things -themselves, and rely on no one else.’</p> - -<p>‘I must have given Miss Barbara much trouble. How -good she has been!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Barbara is good to everyone! She can’t help it. -Some people are born good-tempered and practical, and -others are born pretty and poetical; some to be good -needlewomen, others to wear smart clothes.’</p> - -<p>‘Tell me, Miss Eve, did anyone come near me when I -met with my accident?’</p> - -<p>‘Your friend Martin and Barbara brought you here.’</p> - -<p>‘And when I was here who had to do with my -clothes?’</p> - -<p>‘Martin undressed you whilst my sister and I got ready -what was necessary for you.’</p> - -<p>‘And my clothes—who touched them?’</p> - -<p>‘After your friend Martin, only Barbara; she folded -them and put them away. Why do you ask?’</p> - -<p>Jasper sighed and put his hand to his head. Silence -ensued for some time; had not he held his hand to -the wound Eve would have supposed he was asleep. -Now, all at once, Eve saw the cowslip ball; it was -under the table, and with the point of her little foot she -could touch it and roll it to her. So she played with the -ball, rolling it with her feet, but so lightly that she made -no noise.</p> - -<p>All at once he looked round at her. Startled, she -kicked the cowslip ball away. He turned his head away -again.</p> - -<p>About five minutes later she was on tiptoe, stealing -across the room to where the ball had rolled. She picked -it up and laid it on the pillow near Jasper’s face. He -opened his eyes. They had been closed.</p> - -<p>‘I thought,’ explained Eve, ‘that the scent of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -flowers might do you good. They are somewhat bruised -and so smell the stronger.’</p> - -<p>He half nodded and closed his eyes again.</p> - -<p>Presently she plucked timidly at the sheet. As he paid -no attention she plucked again. He looked at her. The -bright face, like an opening wild rose, was bending over -him.</p> - -<p>‘Will it disturb you greatly if I ask you a question?’</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>‘Who was that young man whom you called Martin?’</p> - -<p>He looked earnestly into her eyes, and the colour -mounted under the transparent skin of her throat, cheeks, -and brow.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ he said gravely, ‘have you ever been ill—cut, -wounded’—he put out his hand and lightly indicated her -heart—’there?’</p> - -<p>She shook her pretty head with a smile.</p> - -<p>‘Then think and ask no more about Martin. He came -to you out of darkness, he went from you into darkness. -Put him utterly and for ever out of your thoughts as you -value your happiness.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c51" id="c51">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BAB.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">As</span> Jasper recovered, he saw less of the sisters. June -had come, and with it lovely weather, and with the lovely -weather the haysel. The air was sweet about the house -with the fragrance of hay, and the soft summer breath -wafted the pollen and fine strands on its wings into the -court and in at the windows of the old house. Hay harvest -was a busy time, especially for Barbara Jordan. She -engaged extra hands, and saw that cake was baked and -beer brewed for the harvesters. Mr. Jordan had become, -as years passed, more abstracted from the cares of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -farm, and more steeped in his fantastic semi-scientific pursuits. -As his eldest daughter put her strong shoulder to -the wheel of business, Mr. Jordan edged his from under it -and left the whole pressure upon her. Consequently Barbara -was very much engaged. All that was necessary to -be done for the convalescent was done, quietly and considerately; -but Jasper was left considerably to himself. -Neither Barbara nor Eve had the leisure, even if they -had the inclination, to sit in his room and entertain -him with conversation. Eve brought Jasper fresh flowers -every morning, and by snatches sang to him. The little -parlour opened out of the room he occupied, and in it was -her harpsichord, an old instrument, without much tone, -but it served to accompany her clear fresh voice. In the -evening she and Barbara sang duets. The elder sister had -a good alto voice that contrasted well with the warble of -her sister’s soprano.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan came periodically into the sick room, and -saluted his guest in a shy, reserved manner, asked how he -progressed, made some common remark about the weather, -fidgeted with the backs of the chairs or the brim of his -hat, and went away. He was a timid man with strangers, -a man who lived in his own thoughts, a man with a -frightened, far-off look in his eyes. He was ungainly in -his movements, through nervousness. He made no friends, -he had acquaintances only.</p> - -<p>His peculiar circumstances, the connection with Eve’s -mother, his natural reserve, had kept him apart from the -gentlefolks around. His reserve had deepened of late, and -his shyness had become painful to himself and to those -with whom he spoke.</p> - -<p>As Eve grew up, and her beauty was observed, the -neighbours pitied the two girls, condemned through no -fault of their own to a life of social exclusion. Of Barbara -everyone spoke well, as an excellent manager and thrifty -housekeeper, kind of heart, in all things reliable. Of Eve -everyone spoke as a beauty. Some little informal conclaves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -had been held in the neighbourhood, and one good lady -had said to the Cloberrys, ‘If you will call, so will I.’ So -the Cloberrys of Bradstone, as a leading county family, had -taken the initiative and called. As the Cloberry family -coach drove up to the gate of Morwell, Mr. Jordan was all -but caught, but he had the presence of mind to slip behind -a laurel bush, that concealed his body, whilst exposing his -legs. There he remained motionless, believing himself unseen, -till the carriage drove away. After the Cloberrys had -called, other visitors arrived, and the girls received invitations -to tea, which they gladly accepted. Mr. Jordan -sent his card by his daughters; he would make no calls in -person, and the neighbours were relieved not to see him. -That affair of seventeen years ago was not forgiven.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan was well pleased that his daughters should -go into society, or rather that his daughter Eve should be received -and admired. With Barbara he had not much in -common, only the daily cares of the estate, and these worried -him. To Eve, and to her alone, he opened out, and -spoke of things that lived within, in his mind, to her alone -did he exhibit tenderness. Barbara was shut out from his -heart; she felt the exclusion, but did not resent the preference -shown to Eve. That was natural, it was Eve’s due, -for Eve was so beautiful, so bright, so perfect a little fairy. -But, though Barbara did not grudge her young sister the -love that was given to her, she felt an ache in her heart, -and a regret that the father’s love was not so full that it -could embrace and envelop both.</p> - -<p>One day, when the afternoon sun was streaming into -the hall, Barbara crossed it, and came to the convalescent’s -room.</p> - -<p>‘Come,’ she said, ‘my father and I think you had -better sit outside the house; we are carrying the hay, and -it may amuse you to watch the waggons. The sweet air -will do you good. You must be weary of confinement in -this little room.’</p> - -<p>‘How can I be weary where I am so kindly treated!—where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -all speaks to me of rest and peace and culture!’ -Jasper was dressed, and was sitting in an armchair reading, -or pretending to read, a book.</p> - -<p>‘Can you rise, Mr. Jasper?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>He tried to leave the chair, but he was still very weak, -so she assisted him.</p> - -<p>‘And now,’ she said kindly, ‘walk, sir!’</p> - -<p>She watched his steps. His face was pale, and the -pallor was the more observable from the darkness of his -hair. ‘I think,’ said he, forcing a smile, ‘I must beg a -little support.’</p> - -<p>She went without hesitation to his side, and he put his -arm in hers. He had not only lost much blood, but had -been bruised and severely shaken, and was not certain of -his steps. Barbara was afraid, in crossing the hall, lest he -should fall on the stone floor. She disengaged his hand, -put her arm about his waist, bade him lean on her shoulder. -How strong she seemed!</p> - -<p>‘Can you get on now?’ she asked, looking up. His -deep eyes met her.</p> - -<p>‘I could get on for ever thus,’ he answered.</p> - -<p>She flushed scarlet.</p> - -<p>‘I dislike such speeches,’ she said; and disengaged herself -from him. Whilst her arm was about him her hand -had felt the beating of his heart.</p> - -<p>She conducted him to a bench in the garden near a bed -of stocks, where the bees were busy.</p> - -<p>‘How beautiful the world looks when one has not seen -it for many days!’ he said.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, there is a good shear of hay, saved in splendid -order.’</p> - -<p>‘When a child is born into the world there is always -a gathering, and a festival to greet it. I am born anew -into the beautiful world to-day. I am on the threshold of -a new life, and you have nursed me into it. Am I too -presumptuous if I ask you to sit here a very little while, -and welcome me into it? That will be a festival indeed.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<p>She smiled good-humouredly, and took her place on the -bench. Jasper puzzled her daily more and more. What -was he? What was the temptation that had led him -away? Was his repentance thorough? Barbara prayed -for him daily, with the excuse to her conscience that it was -always well to pray for the conversion of a sinner, and that -she was bound to pray for the man whom Providence -had cast broken and helpless at her feet. The Good Samaritan -prayed, doubtless, for the man who fell among -thieves. She was interested in her patient. Her patient -he was, as she was the only person in the house to provide -and order whatever was done in it. Her patient, Eve and -her father called him. Her patient he was, somehow her -own heart told her he was; bound to her doubly by the solicitude -with which she had nursed him, by the secret of -his life which she had surprised.</p> - -<p>He puzzled her. He puzzled her more and more daily. -There was a gentleness and refinement in his manner and -speech that showed her he was not a man of low class, that -if he were not a gentleman by birth he was one in mind -and culture. There was a grave religiousness about him, -moreover, that could not be assumed, and did not comport -with a criminal.</p> - -<p>Who was he, and what had he done? How far had he -sinned, or been sinned against? Barbara’s mind was -fretted with these ever-recurring questions. Teased with -the enigma, she could not divert her thoughts for long -from it—it formed the background to all that occupied her -during the day. She considered the dairy, but when the -butter was weighed, went back in mind to the riddle. She -was withdrawn again by the demands of the cook for groceries -from her store closet; when the closet door was shut -she was again thinking of the puzzle. She had to calculate -the amount of cake required for the harvesters, and -went on from the calculations of currants and sugar to the -balancing of probabilities in the case of Jasper.</p> - -<p>She had avoided seeing him of late more than was necessary,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -she had resolved not to go near him, and let the -maid Jane attend to his requirements, aided by Christopher -Davy’s boy, who cleaned the boots and knives, and -ran errands, and weeded the paths, and was made generally -useful. Yet for all her resolve she did not keep it: -she discovered that some little matter had been neglected, -which forced her to enter the room.</p> - -<p>When she was there she was impatient to be out of it -again, and she hardly spoke to Jasper, was short, busy, and -away in a moment.</p> - -<p>‘It does not do to leave the servants to themselves,’ -soliloquised Barbara. ‘They half do whatever they are -set at. The sick man would not like to complain. I must -see to everything myself.’</p> - -<p>Now she complied with his request to sit beside him, -but was at once filled with restlessness. She could not -speak to him on the one subject that tormented her. She -had herself forbidden mention of it.</p> - -<p>She looked askance at Jasper, who was not speaking. -He had his hat off, on his lap; his eyes were moist, his -lips were moving. She was confident he was praying. He -turned in a moment, recovered his head, and said with his -sweet smile, ‘God is good. I have already thanked you. -I have thanked him now.’</p> - -<p>Was this hypocrisy? Barbara could not believe it.</p> - -<p>She said, ‘If you have no objection, may we know -your name? I have been asked by my father and others. -I mean,’ she hesitated, ‘a name by which you would care -to be called.’</p> - -<p>‘You shall have my real name,’ he said, slightly colouring.</p> - -<p>‘For myself to know, or to tell others?’</p> - -<p>‘As you will, Miss Jordan. My name is Babb.’</p> - -<p>‘Babb!’ echoed Barbara. She thought to herself that -it was a name as ugly as it was unusual. At that moment -Eve appeared, glowing with life, a wreath of wild roses -wound about her hat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Bab! Bab dear!’ she cried, referring to her sister.</p> - -<p>Barbara turned crimson, and sprang from her seat.</p> - -<p>‘The last cartload is going to start,’ said Eve eagerly, -‘and the men say that I am the Queen and must sit on the -top; but I want half-a-crown, Bab dear, to pay my footing -up the ladder to the top of the load.’</p> - -<p>Barbara drew her sister away. ‘Eve! never call me -by that ridiculous pet-name again. When we were children -it did not matter. Now I do not wish it.’</p> - -<p>‘Why not?’ asked the wondering girl. ‘How hot you -are looking, and yet you have been sitting still!’</p> - -<p>‘I do not wish it, Eve. You will make me very angry, -and I shall feel hurt if you do it again. Bab—think, darling, -the name is positively revolting, I assure you. I hate -it. If you have any love for me in your heart, any regard -for my feelings, you will not call me by it again. -Bab——!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c57" id="c57">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE POCKET-BOOK.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> drew in full draughts of the delicious air, leaning -back on the bench, himself in shade, watching the trees, -hearing the hum of the bees, and the voices of the harvesters, -pleasant and soft in the distance, as if the golden sun -had subdued all the harshness in the tones of the rough -voices. Then the waggon drew nigh; the garden was -above the level of the farmyard, terraced so that Jasper -could not see the cart and horses, or the men, but he saw -the great load of grey-green hay move by, with Eve and -Barbara seated on it, the former not only crowned with -roses, but holding a pole with a bunch of roses and a -flutter of ribands at the top. Eve’s golden hair had fallen -loose and was about her shoulders. She was in an ecstasy -of gaiety. As the load travelled along before the garden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -both Eve and her sister saw the sick man on his bench. -He seemed so thin, white, and feeble in the midst of a fresh -and vigorous nature that Barbara’s heart grew soft, and -she had to bite her lip to control its quiver. Eve waved -her staff topped with flowers and streamers, stood up in -the hay and curtsied to him, with a merry laugh, and then -dropped back into the hay, having lost her balance through -the jolting of the wheels. Jasper brightened, and, removing -his hat, returned the salute with comic majesty. Then, -as Eve and Barbara disappeared, he fell back against the -wall, and his eyes rested on the fluttering leaves of a white -poplar, and some white butterflies that might have been -leaves reft from the trees, flickering and pursuing each -other in the soft air. The swallows that lived in a colony -of inverted clay domes under the eaves were darting about, -uttering shrill cries, the expression of exuberant joy of life. -Jasper sank into a summer dream.</p> - -<p>He was roused from his reverie by a man coming between -him and the pretty garden picture that filled his -eyes. He recognised the surgeon, Mr.—or as the country -people called him, Doctor—Coyshe. The young medical -man had no objection to being thus entitled, but he very -emphatically protested against his name being converted -into Quash, or even Squash. Coyshe is a very respectable -and ancient Devonshire family name, but it is a name that -lends itself readily to phonetic degradation, and the young -surgeon had to do daily battle to preserve it from being -vulgarised. ‘Good afternoon, patient!’ said he cheerily; -‘doing well, thanks to my treatment.’</p> - -<p>Jasper made a suitable reply.</p> - -<p>‘Ah! I dare say you pull a face at seeing me now, -thinking I am paying visits for the sake of my fee, when -need for my attendance is past. That, let me tell you, is -the way of some doctors; it is, however, not mine. Lord -love you, I knew a case of a man who sent for a doctor -because his wife was ill, and was forced to smother her -under pillows to cut short the attendance and bring the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -bill within the compass of his means. Bless your stars, my -man, that you fell into my hands, not into those of old -Crooke.’</p> - -<p>‘I am assured,’ said Jasper, ‘that I am fallen into the -best possible hands.’</p> - -<p>‘Who assured you of that?’ asked Coyshe sharply; -‘Miss Eve or the other?’</p> - -<p>‘I am assured by my own experience of your -skill.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah! an ordinary practitioner would have trepanned -you; the whole run of them, myself and myself only excepted, -have an itch in their fingers for the saw and the -scalpel. There is far too much bleeding, cupping, and -calomel used in the profession now—but what are we to -say? The people love to have it so, to see blood and have -a squeal for their money. I’ve had before now to administer -a bread pill and give it a Greek name.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan from his study, the girls from the stackyard -(or moway, as it is locally called), saw or heard the surgeon. -He was loud in his talk and made himself heard. -They came to him into the garden. Eve, with her natural -coquetry, retained the crown of roses and her sceptre.</p> - -<p>‘You see,’ said Mr. Coyshe, rubbing his hands, ‘I have -done wonders. This would have been a dead man but for -me. Now, sir, look at me,’ he said to Jasper; ‘you owe -me a life.’</p> - -<p>‘I know very well to whom I owe my life,’ answered -Jasper, and glanced at Barbara. ‘To my last hour I shall -not forget the obligation.’</p> - -<p>‘And do you know <i>why</i> he owes me his life?’ asked the -surgeon of Mr. Jordan. ‘Because I let nature alone, and -kept old Crooke away. I can tell you the usual practice. -The doctor comes and shrugs his shoulders and takes snuff. -When he sees a proper impression made, he says, “However; -we will do our best, only we don’t work miracles.” -He sprinkles his victim with snuff, as if about to embalm -the body. If the man dies, the reason is clear. Crooke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -was not sent for in time. If he recovers, Crooke has -wrought a miracle. That is not my way, as you all know.’ -He looked about him complacently.</p> - -<p>‘What will you take, Mr. Coyshe?’ asked Barbara; -‘some of our haysel ale, or claret? And will you come -indoors for refreshment?’</p> - -<p>‘Indoors! O dear me, no!’ said the young doctor; ‘I -keep out of the atmosphere impregnated with four or five -centuries of dirt as much as I can. If I had my way I -would burn down every house with all its contents every -ten years, and so we might get rid of half the diseases -which ravage the world. I wouldn’t live in your old -ramshackle Morwell if I were paid ten guineas a day. -The atmosphere must be poisoned, charged with particles -of dust many centuries old. Under every cupboard, ay, -and on top of it, is fluff, and every stir of a gown, every -tread of a foot, sets it floating, and the currents bring it -to your lungs or pores. What is that dust made up of? -Who can tell? The scrapings of old monks, the scum of -Protestant reformers, the detritus of any number of Jordans -for ages, some of whom have had measles, some -scarlet-fever, some small-pox. No, thank you. I’ll have -my claret in the garden. I can tell you without looking -what goes to make up the air in that pestilent old box; -the dog has carried old bones behind the cupboard, the cat -has been set a saucer of milk under the chest, which has -been forgotten and gone sour. An old stocking which one -of the ladies was mending was thrust under a sofa cushion, -when the front door bell rang, and she had to receive -callers—and that also was forgotten.’</p> - -<p>Miss Jordan waxed red and indignant. ‘Mr. Coyshe,’ -she said, ‘I cannot hear you say this, it is not true. Our -house is perfectly sweet and clean; there is neither a store -of old bones, nor a half-darned stocking, nor any of the -other abominations you mentioned about it.’</p> - -<p>‘Your eyes have not seen the world through a microscope. -Mine have,’ answered the unabashed surgeon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -‘When a ray of sunlight enters your rooms, you can see -the whole course of the ray.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well, that is because the air is dirty. If it were -clean you would be unable to see it. No, thank you. I -will have my claret in the garden; perhaps you would not -mind having it sent out to me. The air out of doors is -pure compared to that of a house.’</p> - -<p>A little table, wine, glasses and cake were sent out. -Barbara and Eve did not reappear.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan had a great respect for the young doctor. -His self-assurance, his pedantry, his boasting, imposed on -the timid and half-cultured mind of the old man. He -hoped to get information from the surgeon about tests -for metals, to interest him in his pursuits without letting -him into his secrets; he therefore overcame his shyness -sufficiently to appear and converse when Mr. Coyshe -arrived.</p> - -<p>‘What a very beautiful daughter you have got!’ said -Coyshe; ‘one that is only to be seen in pictures. A man -despairs of beholding such loveliness in actual life, and -see, here, at the limit of the world, the vision flashes on -one! Not much like you, Squire, not much like her -sister; looks as if she belonged to another breed.’</p> - -<p>Jasper Babb looked round startled at the audacity and -rudeness of the surgeon. Mr. Jordan was not offended; -he seemed indeed flattered. He was very proud of Eve.</p> - -<p>‘You are right. My eldest daughter has almost -nothing in common with her younger sister—only a half-sister.’</p> - -<p>‘Really,’ said Coyshe, ‘it makes me shiver for the -future of that fairy being. I take it for granted she will -be yoked to some county booby of a squire, a Bob Acres. -Good Lord! what a prospect! A jewel of gold in a -swine’s snout, as Solomon says.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve shall never marry one unworthy of her,’ said -Ignatius Jordan vehemently. She will be under no constraint.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -She will be able to afford to shape her future -according to her fancy. She will be comfortably off.’</p> - -<p>‘Comfortably off fifty years ago means pinched now, -and pinched now means screwed flat fifty years hence. -Everything is becoming costly. Living is a luxury only -for the well-to-do. The rest merely exist under sufferance.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Eve will not be pinched,’ answered Mr. Jordan, -unconscious that he was being drawn out by the surgeon. -‘Seventeen years ago I lent fifteen hundred pounds, which -is to be returned to me on Midsummer Day. To that I -can add about five hundred; I have saved something -since—not much, for somehow the estate has not answered -as it did of old.’</p> - -<p>‘You have two daughters.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, yes, there is Barbara,’ said Jordan in a tone of -indifference. ‘Of course she will have something, but -then—she can always manage for herself—with the other -it is different.’</p> - -<p>‘Are you ill?’ asked Coyshe, suddenly, observing that -Jasper had turned very pale, and dark under the eyes. -‘Is the air too strong for you?’</p> - -<p>‘No, let me remain here. The sun does me good.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan was rather glad of this opportunity of -publishing the fortune he was going to give his younger -daughter. He wished it to be known in the neighbourhood, -that Eve might be esteemed and sought by suitable -young men. He often said to himself that he could die -content were Eve in a position where she would be happy -and admired.</p> - -<p>‘When did Miss Eve’s mother die?’ asked Coyshe -abruptly. Mr. Jordan started.</p> - -<p>‘Did I say she was dead? Did I mention her?’</p> - -<p>Coyshe mused, put his hand through his hair and -ruffled it up; then folded his arms and threw out his -legs.</p> - -<p>‘Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘What do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘That money you say you lent seventeen years ago. -What are your securities?’</p> - -<p>‘The best. The word of an honourable man.’</p> - -<p>‘The word!’ Mr. Coyshe whistled. ‘Words! What -are words?’</p> - -<p>‘He offered me a mortgage, but it never came,’ said -Mr. Jordan. ‘Indeed, I never applied for it. I had his -word.’</p> - -<p>‘If you see the shine of that money again, you are -lucky.’ Then looking at Jasper: ‘My patient is upset -again—I thought the air was too strong for him. He -must be carried in. He is going into a fit.’</p> - -<p>Jasper was leaning back against the wall, with distended -eyes, and hands and teeth clenched as with a -spasm.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Jasper faintly, ‘I am not in a fit.’</p> - -<p>‘You looked much as if going into an attack of lock-jaw.’</p> - -<p>At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed -the condition of the convalescent.</p> - -<p>‘Here,’ said she, ‘lean on me as you did coming out. -This has been too much for you. Will you help me, -Doctor Coyshe?’</p> - -<p>‘Thank you,’ said Jasper. ‘If Miss Jordan will suffer -me to rest on her arm, I will return to my room.’</p> - -<p>When he was back in his armchair and the little room -he had occupied, Barbara looked earnestly in his face and -said, ‘What has troubled you? I am sure something has.’</p> - -<p>‘I am very unhappy,’ he answered, ‘but you must ask -me no questions.’</p> - -<p>Miss Jordan went in quest of her sister. ‘Eve,’ she -said, ‘our poor patient is exhausted. Sit in the parlour -and play and sing, and give a look into his room now and -then. I am busy.’</p> - -<p>The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr. -Jordan’s thoughts. When Mr. Coyshe rejoined him, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -he did the moment he saw Jasper safe in his room, Mr. -Jordan said, ‘I cannot believe that I ran any risk with the -money. The man to whom I lent it is honourable. Besides, -I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt; -not that I would use it against him.’</p> - -<p>‘A man’s word,’ said Coyshe, ‘is like india-rubber that -can be made into any shape he likes. A word is made up -of letters, and he will hold to the letters and permute -their order to suit his own convenience, not yours. A -man will stick to his word only so long as his word will -stick to him. It depends entirely on which side it is -licked. Hark! Is that Miss Eve singing? What a -voice! Why, if she were trained and on the stage——’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan stood up, agitated and angry.</p> - -<p>‘I beg your pardon,’ said Coyshe. ‘Does the suggestion -offend you? I merely threw it out in the event of -the money lent not turning up.’</p> - -<p>Just then his eyes fell on something that lay under the -seat. ‘What is that? Have you dropped a pocket-book?’</p> - -<p>A rough large leather pocket-book that was to which -he pointed. Mr. Jordan stooped and took it up. He -examined it attentively and uttered an exclamation of -surprise.</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ said the surgeon mockingly, ‘is the money -come, dropped from the clouds at your feet?’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, ‘but -this is most extraordinary, most mysterious! How comes -this case here? It is the very same which I handed over, -filled with notes, to that man seventeen years ago! See! -there are my initials on it; there on the shield is my -crest. How comes it here?’</p> - -<p>‘The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here? -but what does it contain?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing.’</p> - -<p>The surgeon put his hands in his pockets, screwed up -his lips for a whistle, and said, ‘I foretold this, I am -always right.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘The money is not due till Midsummer-day.’</p> - -<p>‘Nor will come till the Greek kalends. Poor Miss -Eve!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c65" id="c65">CHAPTER X.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BARBARA’S PETITION.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Midsummer-day</span> was come. Mr. Jordan was in suspense -and agitation. His pale face was more livid and drawn -than usual. The fears inspired by the surgeon had taken -hold of him.</p> - -<p>Before the birth of Eve he had been an energetic man, -eager to get all he could out of the estate, but for seventeen -years an unaccountable sadness had hung over him, -damping his ardour; his thoughts had been carried away -from his land, whither no one knew, though the results -were obvious enough.</p> - -<p>With Barbara he had little in common. She was -eminently practical. He was always in a dream. She -was never on an easy footing with her father, she tried to -understand him and failed, she feared that his brain was -partially disturbed. Perhaps her efforts to make him out -annoyed him; at any rate he was cold towards her, without -being intentionally unkind. An ever-present restraint -was upon both in each other’s presence.</p> - -<p>At first, after the disappearance of Eve’s mother, things -had gone on upon the old lines. Christopher Davy had -superintended the farm labours, but as he aged and failed, -and Barbara grew to see the necessity for supervision, she -took the management of the farm as well as of the house -upon herself. She saw that the men dawdled over their -work, and that the condition of the estate was going back. -Tho coppices had not been shredded in winter and the oak -was grown into a tangle. The rending for bark in spring -was done unsystematically. The hedges became ragged,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -the ploughs out of order, the thistles were not cut periodically -and prevented from seeding. There were not men -sufficient to do the work that had to be done. She had -not the time to attend to the men as well as the maids, to -the farmyard as well as the house. She had made up her -mind that a proper bailiff must be secured, with authority -to employ as many labourers as the estate required. Barbara -was convinced that her father, with his lost, dreamy -head, was incapable of managing their property, even if he -had the desire. Now that the trusty old Davy was ill, -and breaking up, she had none to advise her.</p> - -<p>She was roused to anger on Midsummer-day by discovering -that the hayrick had never been thatched, and -that it had been exposed to the rain which had fallen -heavily, so that half of it had to be taken down because -soaked, lest it should catch fire or blacken. This was the -result of the carelessness of the men. She determined to -speak to her father at once. She had good reason for -doing so.</p> - -<p>She found him in his study arranging his specimens of -mundic and peacock copper.</p> - -<p>‘Has anyone come, asking for me?’ he said, looking -up with fluttering face from his work.</p> - -<p>‘No one, father.’</p> - -<p>‘You startled me, Barbara, coming on me stealthily -from behind. What do you want with me? You see I -am engaged, and you know I hate to be disturbed.’</p> - -<p>‘I have something I wish to speak about.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, well, say it and go.’ His shaking hands resumed -their work.</p> - -<p>‘It is the old story, dear papa. I want you to engage -a steward. It is impossible for us to go on longer in the -way we have. You know how I am kept on the run from -morning to night. I have to look after all your helpless -men, as well as my own helpless maids. When I am in -the field, there is mischief done in the kitchen; when I -am in the house, the men are smoking and idling on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -farm. Eve cannot help me in seeing to domestic matters, -she has not the experience. Everything devolves on me. -I do not grudge doing my utmost, but I have not the time -for everything, and I am not ubiquitous.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘Eve cannot undertake any sort -of work. That is an understood thing.’</p> - -<p>‘I know it is. If I ask her to be sure and recollect -something, she is certain with the best intentions to forget; -she is a dear beautiful butterfly, not fit to be harnessed. -Her brains are thistledown, her bones cherry -stalks.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, do not crush her spirits with uncongenial work.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not want to. I know as well as yourself that I -must rely on her for nothing. But the result is that I am -overtasked. Now—will you credit it? The beautiful hay -that was like green tea is spoiled. Those stupid men did -not thatch it. They said they had no reed, and waited to -comb some till the rain set in. When it did pour, they -were all in the barn talking and making reed, but at the -same time the water was drenching and spoiling the hay. -Oh, papa, I feel disposed to cry!’</p> - -<p>‘I will speak to them about it,’ said Mr. Jordan, with -a sigh, not occasioned by the injury to his hay, but because -he was disturbed over his specimens.</p> - -<p>‘My dear papa,’ said the energetic Barbara, ‘I do not -wish you to be troubled about these tiresome matters. -You are growing old, daily older, and your strength is not -gaining. You have other pursuits. You are not heartily -interested in the farm. I see your hand tremble when -you hold your fork at dinner; you are becoming thinner -every day. I would spare you trouble. It is really necessary, -I must have it—you must engage a bailiff. I shall -break down, and that will be the end, or we shall all go to -ruin. The woods are running to waste. There are trees -lying about literally rotting. They ought to be sent away -to the Devonport dockyard where they could be sold. Last -spring, when you let the rending, the barbers shaved a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -whole copse wood, as if shaving a man’s chin, instead of -leaving the better sticks standing.’</p> - -<p>‘We have enough to live on.’</p> - -<p>‘We must do our duty to the land on which we live. -I cannot endure to see waste anywhere. I have only one -head, one pair of eyes, and one pair of hands. I cannot -think of, see to, and do everything. I lie awake night -after night considering what has to be done, and the day -is too short for me to do all I have determined on in the -night. Whilst that poor gentleman has been ill, I have -had to think of him in addition to everything else; so -some duties have been neglected. That is how, I suppose, -the doctor came to guess there was a stocking half-darned -under the sofa cushion. Eve was mending it, she tired -and put it away, and of course forgot it. I generally -look about for Eve’s leavings, and tidy her scraps when she -has gone to bed, but I have been too busy. I am vexed -about that stocking. How those protruding eyes of the -doctor managed to see it I cannot think. He was, however, -wrong about the saucer of sour milk.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan continued nervously sorting his minerals -into little white card boxes.</p> - -<p>‘Well, papa, are you going to do anything?’</p> - -<p>‘Do—do—what?’</p> - -<p>‘Engage a bailiff. I am sure we shall gain money by -working the estate better. The bailiff will pay his cost, -and something over.’</p> - -<p>‘You are very eager for money,’ said Mr. Jordan -sulkily; ‘are you thinking of getting married, and anxious -to have a dower?’</p> - -<p>Barbara coloured deeply, hurt and offended.</p> - -<p>‘This is unkind of you, papa; I am thinking of Eve. -I think only of her. You ought to know that’—the tears -came into her eyes. ‘Of course Eve will marry some -day;’ then she laughed, ‘no one will ever come for -me.’</p> - -<p>‘To be sure,’ said Mr. Jordan.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I have been thinking, papa, that Eve ought to be -sent to some very nice lady, or to some very select school, -where she might have proper finishing. All she has learnt -has been from me, and I have had so much to do, and I -have been so unable to be severe with Eve—that—that—I -don’t think she has learned much except music, to -which she takes instinctively as a South Sea islander to -water.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot be parted from Eve. It would rob my sky -of its sun. What would this house be with only you—I -mean without Eve to brighten it?’</p> - -<p>‘If you will think the matter over, father, you will see -that it ought to be. We must consider Eve, and not ourselves. -I would not have her, dear heart, anywhere but -in the very best school,—hardly a school, a place where -only three or four young ladies are taken, and they of the -best families. That will cost money, so we must put our -shoulders to the wheel, and push the old coach on.’ She -laid her hands on the back of her father’s chair and leaned -over his shoulder. She had been standing behind him. -Did she hope he would kiss her? If so, her hope was -vain.</p> - -<p>‘Do, dear papa, engage an honest, superior sort of -man to look after the farm. I will promise to make a -great deal of money with my dairy, if he will see to the -cows in the fields. Try the experiment, and, trust me, it -will answer.’</p> - -<p>‘All in good time.’</p> - -<p>‘No, papa, do not put this off. There is another reason -why I speak. Christopher Davy is bedridden. You are -sometimes absent, then we girls are left alone in this great -house, all day, and occasionally nights as well. You know -there was no one here on that night when the accident -happened. There were two men in this house, one, indeed, -insensible. We know nothing of them, who they -were, and what they were about. How can you tell that -bad characters may not come here? It is thought that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -you have saved money, and it is known that Morwell is -unprotected. You, papa, are so frail, and with your -shaking hand a gun would not be dangerous.’</p> - -<p>He started from his chair and upset his specimens.</p> - -<p>‘Do not speak like that,’ he said, trembling.</p> - -<p>‘There, I have disturbed you even by alluding to it. -If you were to level a gun, and had your finger——’</p> - -<p>He put his hand, a cold, quivering hand, on her lips: -‘For God’s sake—silence!’ he said.</p> - -<p>She obeyed. She knew how odd her father was, yet -his agitation now was so great that it surprised her. It -made her more resolute to carry her point.</p> - -<p>‘Papa, you are expecting to have about two thousand -pounds in the house. Will it be safe? You have told -the doctor, and that man, our patient, heard you. Excuse -my saying it, but I think it was not well to mention it -before a perfect stranger. You may have told others. Mr. -Coyshe is a chatterbox, he may have talked about it -throughout the neighbourhood—the fact may be known to -everyone, that to-day you are expecting to have a large -sum of money brought you. Well—who is to guard it? -Are there no needy and unscrupulous men in the county -who would rob the house, and maybe silence an old -man and two girls who stood in their way to a couple of -thousand pounds?’</p> - -<p>‘The sum is large. It must be hidden away,’ said Mr. -Jordan, uneasily. ‘I had not considered the danger’—he -paused—’if it be paid——’</p> - -<p>‘<i>If</i>, papa? I thought you were sure of it.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, quite sure; only Mr. Coyshe disturbed me by -suggesting doubts.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, the doctor!’ exclaimed Barbara, shrugging her -shoulders.</p> - -<p>‘Well, the doctor,’ repeated Mr. Jordan, captiously. -‘He is a very able man. Why do you turn up your nose -at him? He can see through a stone wall, and under a -cushion to where a stocking is hidden, and under a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -cupboard to where a saucer of sour milk is thrust away; -and he can see into the human body through the flesh -and behind the bones, and can tell you where every nerve -and vein is, and what is wrong with each. When things -are wrong, then it is like stockings and saucers where they -ought not to be in a house.’</p> - -<p>‘He was wrong about the saucer of sour milk, utterly -wrong,’ persisted Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘I hope and trust the surgeon was wrong in his forecast -about the money—but my heart fails me——’</p> - -<p>‘He was wrong about the saucer,’ said the girl encouragingly.</p> - -<p>‘But he was right about the stocking,’ said her father -dispiritedly.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c71" id="c71">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">GRANTED!</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">As</span> the sun declined, Mr. Jordan became uneasy. He -could not remain in his study. He could not rest anywhere. -The money had not been returned. He had -taken out of his strong box Ezekiel Babb’s acknowledgment -and promise of payment, but he knew that it was so -much waste-paper to him. He could not or would not -proceed against the borrower. Had he not wronged him -cruelly by living with his daughter as if she were his wife, -without having been legally married to her? Could he -take legal proceedings for the recovery of his money, and -so bring all the ugly story to light and publish it to the -world? He had let Mr. Babb have the money to pacify -him, and make some amends for the wrong he had done. -No! If Mr. Babb did not voluntarily return the money, -Ignatius Jordan foresaw that it was lost to him, lost to -Eve, and poor Eve’s future was unprovided for. The -estate must go to Barbara, that is, the reversion in the -tenure of it; the ready money he had intended for Eve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -Mr. Jordan felt a bitterness rise in his heart against Barbara, -whose future was assured, whilst that of Eve was -not. He would have liked to leave Morwell to his younger -daughter, but he was not sure that the Duke would approve -of this, and he was quite sure that Eve was incompetent -to manage a farm and dairy.</p> - -<p>At the time of which we treat, it was usual for every -squire to farm a portion of his own estate, his manor -house was backed with extensive outbuildings for cattle, -and his wife and daughters were not above superintending -the dairy. Indeed, an ancestress of the author took farm -after farm into her own hands as the leases fell in, and at -last farmed the entire parish. She died in 1795. The -Jordans were not squires, but perpetual tenants under the -Dukes of Bedford, and had been received by the country -gentry on an equal footing, till Mr. Jordan compromised -his character by his union with Eve’s mother. The estate -of Morwell was a large one for one man to farm; if the -Duke had exacted a large rent, of late years Mr. Jordan -would have fallen into arrears, but the Duke had not -raised his rent at the last renewal. The Dukes were the -most indulgent of landlords.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan came into the hall. It was the same as -it had been seventeen years before; the same old clock -was there, ticking in the same tone, the same scanty furniture -of a few chairs, the same slate floor. Only the -cradle was no longer to be seen. The red light smote into -the room just as it had seventeen years before. There -against the wall it painted a black cross as it had done -seventeen years ago.</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan looked up over the great fireplace. -Above it hung the musket he had been cleaning when -Ezekiel Babb entered. It had not been taken down and -used since that day. Seventeen years! It was an age. -The little babe that had lain in the cradle was now a -beautiful marriageable maiden. Time had made its mark -upon himself. His back was more bent, his hand more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -shaky, his walk less steady; a careful, thrifty man had -been converted into an abstracted, half-crazed dreamer. -Seventeen years of gnawing care and ceaseless sorrow! How -had he been able to bear it? Only by the staying wings of -love, of love for his little Eve—for <i>her</i> child. Without -his Eve, <i>her</i> child, long ago he would have sunk and been -swallowed up, the clouds of derangement of intellect would -have descended on his brain, or his bodily health would -have given way.</p> - -<p>Seventeen years ago, on Midsummer-day, there had -stood on the little folding oak table under the window a -tumbler full of china roses, which were drooping, and had -shed their leaves over the polished, almost black, table -top. They had been picked some days before by his wife. -Now, in the same place stood a glass, and in it were roses -from the same tree, not drooping, but fresh and glistening, -placed that morning there by <i>her</i> daughter. His eye -sought the clock. At five o’clock, seventeen years ago, -Ezekiel Babb had come into that hall through that doorway, -and had borrowed his money. The clock told that -the time was ten minutes to five. If Mr. Babb did not -appear to the hour, he would abandon the expectation of -seeing him. He must make a journey to Buckfastleigh -over the moor, a long day’s journey, and seek the -defaulter, and know the reason why the loan was not -repaid.</p> - -<p>He thought of the pocket-book on the gravel. How -came it there? Who could have brought it? Mr. Jordan -was too fully impressed with belief in the supernatural not -to suppose it was dropped at his feet as a warning that his -money was gone.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan’s eyes were fixed on the clock. The works -began to whir-r. Then followed the strokes. One—two—three—four—<span class="smcap">Five</span>.</p> - -<p>At the last stroke the door of Jasper’s sickroom opened, -and the convalescent slowly entered the hall and confronted -his host.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>The last week had wrought wonders in the man. He -had rapidly recovered flesh and vigour after his wounds -were healed.</p> - -<p>As he entered, and his eyes met those of Mr. Jordan, -the latter felt that a messenger from Ezekiel Babb stood -before him, and that his money was not forthcoming.</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir?’ he said.</p> - -<p>‘I am Jasper, the eldest son of Ezekiel Babb, of Owlacombe -in Buckfastleigh,’ he said. ‘My father borrowed -money of you this day seventeen years ago, and solemnly -swore on this day to repay it.’</p> - -<p>‘Well?’</p> - -<p>‘It is not well. I have not got the money.’</p> - -<p>A moan of disappointment broke from the heart of -Ignatius Jordan, then a spasm of rage, such as might seize -on a madman, transformed his face; his eye blazed, and -he sprang to his feet and ran towards Jasper. The latter, -keeping his eye on him, said firmly, ‘Listen to me, Mr. -Jordan. Pray sit down again, and I will explain to you -why my father has not sent the money.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan hesitated. His face quivered. With his -raised hand he would have struck Jasper, but the composure -of the latter awed him. The paroxysm passed, -and he sank into his chair, and gave way to depression.</p> - -<p>‘My father is a man of honour. He gave you his -word, and he intended to keep it. He borrowed of you a -large sum, and he laid it out in the purchase of some land. -He has been fairly prosperous. He saved money enough -to repay the debt, and perhaps more. As the time drew -nigh for repayment he took the sum required from the -bank in notes, and locked them in his bureau. Others -knew of this. My father was not discreet: he talked -about the repayment, he resented having to make it, complained -that he would be reduced to great straits without -it.’</p> - -<p>‘The money was not his, but mine.’</p> - -<p>‘I know that,’ said Jasper, sorrowfully. ‘But my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -father has always been what is termed a close man, has -thought much of money, and cannot bear to part with it. -I do not say that this justifies, but it explains, his dissatisfaction. -He is an old man, and becoming feeble, and -clings through force of habit to his money.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on; nothing can justify him.’</p> - -<p>‘Others knew of his money. One day he was at -Totnes, at a great cloth fair. He did not return till the -following day. During his absence his bureau was broken -open, and the money stolen.’</p> - -<p>‘Was the thief not caught? Was the money not recovered?’ -asked Mr. Jordan, trembling with excitement.</p> - -<p>‘The money was in part recovered.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is it?’</p> - -<p>‘Listen to what follows. You asked if the—the person -who took the money was caught. He was.’</p> - -<p>‘Is he in prison?’</p> - -<p>‘The person who took the money was caught, tried, -and sent to jail. When taken, some of the money was -found about him; he had not spent it all. What remained -I was bringing you.’</p> - -<p>‘Give it me.’</p> - -<p>‘I have not got it.’</p> - -<p>‘You have not got it?’</p> - -<p>‘No, I have lost it.’</p> - -<p>Again did Mr. Jordan start up in a fit of rage. He -ground his teeth, and the sweat broke out in drops on his -brow.</p> - -<p>‘I had the money with me when the accident happened, -and I was thrown from my horse, and became unconscious. -It was lost or taken then.’</p> - -<p>‘Who was your companion? He must have robbed -you.’</p> - -<p>‘I charge no one. I alone am to blame. The money -was entrusted to my keeping.’</p> - -<p>‘Why did your father give you the money before the -appointed day?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘When my father recovered part of the money, -he would no longer keep it in his possession, lest he -should again lose it; so he bade me take it to you at -once.’</p> - -<p>‘You have spent the money, you have spent it yourself!’ -cried Mr. Jordan wildly.</p> - -<p>‘If I had done this, should I have come to you to-day -with this confession? I had the money in the pocket-book -in notes. The notes were abstracted from the book. As -I was so long insensible, it was too late to stop them at -the bank. Whoever took them had time to change them -all.’</p> - -<p>‘Cursed be the day I lent the money,’ moaned Ignatius -Jordan. ‘The empty, worthless case returns, the -precious contents are gone. What is the shell without the -kernel? My Eve, my Eve!’ He clasped his hands over -his brow.</p> - -<p>‘And now once more hearken to me,’ pursued Jasper. -‘My father cannot immediately find the money that he -owes you. He does not know of this second loss. I have -not communicated with him since I met with my accident. -The blame attaches to me. I must do what I can to make -amends for my carelessness. I put myself into your hands. -To repay you now, my father would have to sell the land -he bought. I do not think he could be persuaded to do -this, though, perhaps, you might be able to force him to it. -However, as you say the money is for your daughter, will -you allow it to lie where it is for a while? I will undertake, -should it come to me after my father’s death, to sell -it or transfer it, so as to make up to Miss Eve at the rate -of five per cent. on the loan. I will do more. If you will -consent to this, I will stay here and work for you. I have -been trained in the country, and know about a farm. I -will act as your foreman, overlooker, or bailiff. I will put -my hand to anything. Reckon what my wage would be. -Reckon at the end of a year whether I have not earned my -wage and much more. If you like, I will work for you as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -long as my father lives; I will serve you now faithfully as -no hired bailiff would serve you. My presence here will be -a guarantee to you that I will be true to my undertaking -to repay the whole sum with interest. I can see that this -estate needs an active man on it; and you, sir, are too -advanced in age, and too much given up to scientific pursuits, -to cope with what is required.’</p> - -<p>Those words, ‘scientific pursuits,’ softened Mr. Jordan. -Jasper spoke in good faith; he had no idea how worthless -those pursuits were, how little true science entered into -them. He knew that Mr. Jordan made mineralogical -studies, and he supposed they were well directed.</p> - -<p>‘Order me to do what you will,’ said Jasper, ‘and I -will do it, and will double your gains in the year.’</p> - -<p>‘I accept,’ said Ignatius Jordan. ‘There is no help for -it. I must accept or be plundered of all.’</p> - -<p>‘You accept! let us join hands on the bargain.’</p> - -<p>It was strange; as once before, seventeen years ago, -hands had met in the golden gleam of sun that shot -through the window, ratifying a contract, so was it now. -The hands clasped in the sunbeam, and the reflected light -from their illuminated hands smote up into the faces of the -two men, both pale, one with years and care, the other with -sickness.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan withdrew his hand, clasped both palms -over his face and wept. ‘Thus it comes,’ he said. ‘The -shadow is on me and on my child. One sorrow follows -another.’</p> - -<p>At that moment Barbara and Eve entered from the -court.</p> - -<p>‘Eve! Eve!’ cried the father excitedly, ‘come to me, -my angel! my ill-treated child! my martyr!’ He caught her -to his heart, put his face on her shoulder, and sobbed. -‘My darling, you have had your money stolen, the money -put away for you when you were in the cradle.’</p> - -<p>‘Who has stolen it, papa?’ asked Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Look there!’ he cried; ‘Jasper Babb was bringing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -me the money, and when he fell from his horse, it was -stolen.’</p> - -<p>Neither Barbara nor Eve spoke.</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ continued Mr. Jordan, ‘he has offered himself -as my hind to look after the farm for me, and promises, if -I give him time——’</p> - -<p>‘Father, you have refused!’ interrupted Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘On the contrary, I have accepted.’</p> - -<p>‘It cannot, it must not be!’ exclaimed Barbara vehemently. -‘Father, you do not know what you have -done.’</p> - -<p>‘This is strange language to be addressed by a child to -a father,’ said Mr. Jordan in a tone of irritation. ‘Was -there ever so unreasonable a girl before? This morning -you pressed me to engage a bailiff, and now that Mr. -Jasper Babb has volunteered, and I have accepted him, you -turn round and won’t have him.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ she said, with quick-drawn breath, ‘I will not. -Take anyone but him. I entreat you, papa. If you have -any regard for my opinion, let him go. For pity’s sake do -not allow him to remain here!’</p> - -<p>‘I have accepted him,’ said her father coldly. ‘Pray -what weighty reasons have you got to induce me to alter -my resolve?’</p> - -<p>Miss Jordan stood thinking; the colour mounted to -her forehead, then her brows contracted. ‘I have none -to give,’ she said in a low tone, greatly confused, with her -eyes on the ground. Then, in a moment, she recovered -her self-possession and looked Jasper full in the face, but -without speaking, steadily, sternly. In fact, her heart was -beating so fast, and her breath coming so quick, that she -could not speak. ‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said at length, controlling -her emotions by a strong effort of will, ‘I entreat -you—go.’</p> - -<p>He was silent.</p> - -<p>‘I have nursed you; I have given my nights and days -to you. You confessed that I had saved your life. If you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -have any gratitude in your heart, if you have any respect -for the house that has sheltered you—go!’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara,’ said her father, ‘you are a perverse girl. -He shall not go. I insist on his fulfilling his engagement. -If he leaves I shall take legal proceedings against his father -to recover the money.’</p> - -<p>‘Do that rather than retain him.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, slowly, and with sadness -in his voice, ‘it is true that you have saved my life. Your -kind hand drew me from the brink of the grave whither I -was descending. I thank you with all my heart, but I -cannot go from my engagement to your father. Through -my fault the money was lost, and I must make what -amends I may for my negligence.’</p> - -<p>‘Go back to your father.’</p> - -<p>‘That I cannot do.’</p> - -<p>She considered with her hand over her lips to hide her -agitation. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I understand that. Of course -you cannot go back to your native place and to your home; -but you need not stay here.’ Then suddenly, in a burst of -passion, she extended her hands to her father, ‘Papa!’—then -to the young man, ‘Mr. Jasper!—Papa, send him -away! Mr. Jasper, do not remain!’</p> - -<p>The young man was hardly less agitated than herself. -He took a couple of steps towards the door.</p> - -<p>‘Stuff and fiddlesticks!’ shouted Mr. Jordan. ‘He -shall not go. I forbid him.’</p> - -<p>Jasper turned. ‘Miss Barbara,’ he said, humbly, -‘you are labouring under a mistake which I must not -explain. Forgive me. I stay.’</p> - -<p>She looked at him with moody anger, and muttered, -‘Knowing what you do—that I am not blind—that you -should dare to settle here under this <i>honourable</i> roof. It -is unjust! it is ungrateful! it is wicked! God help us! -I have done what I could.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c80" id="c80">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">CALLED AWAY.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> was installed in Morwell as bailiff in spite of the -remonstrances of Barbara. He was given a room near -the gatehouse, and was attended by Mrs. Davy, but he -came for his dinner to the table of the Jordans. Barbara -had done what she could to prevent his becoming an -inmate of the house. She might not tell her father her -real reasons for objecting to the arrangement.</p> - -<p>She was rendered more uneasy a day or two after by -receiving news that an aunt, a sister of her mother, who -lived beyond Dartmoor, was dying, and she was summoned -to receive her last sigh. She must leave Morwell, leave -her father and sister in the house with a man whom she -thoroughly mistrusted. Her only comfort was that Jasper -was not sufficiently strong and well to be dangerous. -What was he? Was there any truth in that story he had -told her father? She could not believe it, because it -would not fit in with what she already knew. What place -had the convict’s garb in that tale? She turned the narrative -about in her mind, and rejected it. She was inclined -to disbelieve in Jasper being the son of old Mr. -Babb. He had assumed the name and invented the story -to deceive her father, and form an excuse for remaining in -the house.</p> - -<p>She hardly spoke to Jasper when they met. She was -cold and haughty, she did not look at him; and he made -no advances to gain her goodwill.</p> - -<p>When she received the summons to her aunt’s deathbed, -knowing that she must go, she asked where Mr. Babb -was, and, hearing that he was in the barn, went thither -with the letter in her hand.</p> - -<p>He had been examining the horse-turned winnowing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -machine, which was out of order. As she came to the -door he looked up and removed his hat, making a formal -salute. The day was hot; he had been taking the machine -to pieces, and was warm, so he had removed his coat. He -at once drew it on his back again.</p> - -<p>Barbara had a curt, almost rough, manner at times. -She was vexed now, and angry with him, so she spoke -shortly, ‘I am summoned to Ashburton. That is close to -Buckfastleigh, where, you say, you lived, to make my -father believe it is your home.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Miss Jordan, that is true.’</p> - -<p>‘You have not written to your home since you have -been with us. At least—’she hesitated, and slightly -coloured—’you have sent no letter by our boy. Perhaps -you were afraid to have it known where you are. No -doubt you were right. It is essential to you that your -presence here should not be known to anyone but your -father. A letter might be opened, or let lie about, and so -your whereabouts be discovered. Supposing your story to -be true, that is how I account for your silence. If it be -false——’</p> - -<p>‘It is not false, Miss Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘I am going to Ashburton, I will assure myself of -it there. If it be false I shall break my promise to you, -and tell my father everything. I give you fair warning. -If it be true——’</p> - -<p>‘It is true, dear young lady.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not be afraid of my disclosing your secret, and -putting you in peril.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure you cannot do that,’ he said, with a smile -that was sad. ‘If you go to Buckfastleigh, Miss Jordan, -I shall venture to send word by you to my father where I -am, that the money is lost, and what I have undertaken.’</p> - -<p>Barbara tossed her head, and flashed an indignant -glance at him out of her brown eyes.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot, I will not be a porter of lies.’</p> - -<p>‘What lies?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘You did not lose the money. Why deceive me? I -know your object in lurking here, in the most out-of-the-way -nook of England you could find. You think that -here you are safe from pursuit. You made up the story -to impose on my father, and induce him to engage you. -O, you are very honourable! discharging a debt!—I hate -crime, but I hate falsehood even more.’</p> - -<p>‘You are mistaken, Miss Jordan. The story is true.’</p> - -<p>‘You have told the whole honest truth?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not profess to have told the whole truth. What -I have told has been true, though I have not told all.’</p> - -<p>‘A pinch of truth is often more false than a bushel -of lies. It deceives, the other does not.’</p> - -<p>‘It is true that I lost the money confided to me. If -you are going to Ashburton, I ask you, as a matter of kindness—I -know how kind you can be, alas, and I know also -how cruel—to see my father.’</p> - -<p>She laughed haughtily. ‘This is a fine proposition. -The servant sends the mistress to do his dirty work. I -thank you for the honour.’ She turned angrily away.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara,’ said Jasper, ‘you are indeed cruel.’</p> - -<p>‘Am I cruel?’ She turned and faced him again, with -a threatening brow. ‘I have reason to be just. Cruel I -am not.’</p> - -<p>‘You were all gentleness at one time, when I was ill. -Now——’</p> - -<p>‘I will not dispute with you. Do you expect to be fed -with a spoon still? When you were ill I treated you as a -patient, not more kindly than I would have treated my -deadliest enemy. I acted as duty prompted. There was -no one else to take care of you, that was my motive—my -only motive.’</p> - -<p>‘When I think of your kindness then, I wish I were -sick again.’</p> - -<p>‘A mean and wicked wish. Tired already, I suppose, -of doing <i>honest</i> work.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara,’ he said, ‘pray let me speak.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Cruel,’—she recurred to what he had said before, -without listening to his entreaty, ‘It is you who are -cruel coming here—you, with the ugly stain on your life, -coming here to hide it in this innocent household. Would -it not be cruel in a man with the plague poison in him to -steal into a home of harmless women and children, and -give them all the pestilence? Had I suspected that you -intended making Morwell your retreat and skulking den, -I would never have passed my promise to keep silence. I -would have taken the hateful evidence of what you are in -my hand, and gone to the first constable and bid him -arrest you in your bed.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Jasper, ‘you would not have done it. I -know you better than you know yourself. Are you lost to -all humanity? Surely you feel pity in your gentle bosom, -notwithstanding your bitter words.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ she answered, with flushed cheeks and sparkling -eyes, ‘no, I have pity only for myself, because I was weak -enough to take pains to save your worthless life.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ he said, looking sorrowfully at her—and -her eyes fell—’surely I have a right to ask some pity -of you. Have you considered what the temptations must -be that beset a young man who has been roughly handled -at home, maltreated by his father, reared without love—a -young man with a soul bounding with hopes, ambition, -love of life, with a heart for pleasure, all which are beaten -back and trampled down by the man who ought to direct -them? Can you not understand how a lad who has been -thwarted in every way, without a mother to soothe him in -trouble, and encourage him in good, driven desperate by a -father’s harshness, may break away and transgress? Consider -the case of one who has been taught that everything -beautiful—laughter, delight in music, in art, in nature, -a merry gambol, a joyous warble—is sinful; is it not likely -that the outlines of right and wrong would be so blurred -in his conscience, that he might lapse into crime without -criminal intent?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Are you speaking of yourself, or are you excusing -another?’</p> - -<p>‘I am putting a case.’</p> - -<p>Barbara sighed involuntarily. Her own father had -been unsympathetic. He had never been actually severe, -he had been indifferent.</p> - -<p>‘I can see that there were temptations to one so situated -to leave his home,’ she answered, ‘but this is not a -case of truancy, but of crime.’</p> - -<p>‘You judge without knowing the circumstances.’</p> - -<p>‘Then tell me all, that I may form a more equitable -judgment.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot do that now. You shall be told—later.’</p> - -<p>‘Then I must judge by what I know——’</p> - -<p>‘By what you guess,’ he said, correcting her.</p> - -<p>‘As you will.’ Her eyes were on the ground. A -white spar was there. She turned it over with her foot, -and turned it again.</p> - -<p>She hesitated what to say.</p> - -<p>‘Should you favour me so far as to visit my father,’ -said Jasper, ‘I beg of you one thing most earnestly. Do -not mention the name of my companion—Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘Why not?’</p> - -<p>‘He may suspect him of having robbed me. My father -is an energetic, resolute man. He might pursue him, and -I alone am to blame. I lost the money.’</p> - -<p>‘Who was that Martin?’</p> - -<p>‘He told you—that I was nothing to him.’</p> - -<p>‘Then why do you seek to screen him?’</p> - -<p>‘Can I say that he took the money? If my father gets -him arrested—I shall be found.’</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed bitterly.</p> - -<p>‘Of course, the innocent must not be brought into suspicion -because he has ridden an hour alongside of the -guilty. No! I will say nothing of Martin.’</p> - -<p>She was still turning over the piece of spar with her -foot. It sparkled in the sun.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘How are you going to Ashburton, Miss Jordan?’</p> - -<p>‘I ride, and little John Ostler rides with me, conveying -my portmanteau.’</p> - -<p>Then she trifled with the spar again. There was some -peacock copper on it that glistened with all the colours of -the rainbow. Abruptly, at length, she turned away and -went indoors.</p> - -<p>Next morning early she came in her habit to the gate -where the boy who was to accompany her held the horses. -She had not seen Jasper that morning, but she knew where -he was. He had gone along the lane toward the common -to set the men to repair fences and hedges, as the cattle -that strayed on the waste-land had broken into the wheat -field.</p> - -<p>She rode along the lane in meditative mood. She saw -Jasper awaiting her on the down, near an old quarry, the -rubble heap from which was now blazing with gorse in full -bloom. She drew rein, and said, ‘I am going to Ashburton. -I will take your message, not because you asked -me, but because I doubt the truth of your story.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well, Miss Jordan,’ he said respectfully; ‘I -thank you, whatever your motive may be.’</p> - -<p>‘I expect and desire no thanks,’ she answered, and -whipped her horse, that started forward.</p> - -<p>‘I wish you a favourable journey,’ he said. ‘Good-bye.’</p> - -<p>She did not turn her head or respond. She was very -angry with him. She stooped over her pommel and -buckled the strap of the little pocket in the leather for her -kerchief. But, before she had ridden far, an intervening -gorse bush forced her to bend her horse aside, and then she -looked back, without appearing to look, looked back out of -her eye-corners. Jasper stood where she had left him, -with his hat in his hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c86" id="c86">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">MR. BABB AT HOME.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">A lovely</span> July day in the fresh air of Dartmoor, that -seems to sparkle as it enters the lungs: fresh, but given a -sharpness of salt: pure, but tinged with the sweetness of -heather bloom and the honey of gorse. Human spirits -bound in this air. The scenery of Dartmoor, if bare of -trees, is wildly picturesque with granite masses and bold -mountain peaks. Barbara could not shake off the anxiety -that enveloped her spirits like the haze of a valley till she -rose up a long ascent of three miles from the wooded valley -of the Tavy to the bald, rock-strewn expanse of Dartmoor. -She rode on, attended by her little groom, till she reached -Prince’s Town, the highest point attained by the road, -where, in a desolate plain of bog, but little below the crests -of some of the granite tors, stands a prison surrounded by -a few mean houses. From Prince’s Town Barbara would -have a rough moor-path, not a good road, before her; and, -as the horses were exhausted with their long climb, she -halted at the little inn, and ordered some dinner for herself, -and required that the boy and the horses should be attended -to.</p> - -<p>Whilst ham and eggs—nothing else was procurable—were -being fried, Barbara walked along the road to the -prison, and looked at the gloomy, rugged gate built of untrimmed -granite blocks. The unbroken desolation swept -to the very walls of the prison.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> At that height the wind -moans among the rocks and rushes mournfully; the air is -never still. The landlady of the inn came to her.</p> - -<p>‘That is the jail,’ she said. ‘There was a prisoner -broke out not long ago, and he has not yet been caught.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -How he managed it none can tell. Where he now is no -one knows. He may be still wandering on the moor. -Every road from it is watched. Perhaps he may give himself -up, finding escape impossible. If not, he will die of -hunger among the rocks.’</p> - -<p>‘What was the crime for which he was here?’ asked -Barbara; but she spoke with an effort.</p> - -<p>‘He was a bad man; it was no ordinary wickedness he -committed. He robbed his own father.’</p> - -<p>‘His own father!’ echoed Barbara, starting.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, he robbed him of nigh on two thousand pounds. -The father acted sharp, and had him caught before he had -spent all the money. The assizes were next week, so it -was quick work; and here he was for a few days, and then—he -got away.’</p> - -<p>‘Robbed his own father!’ murmured Barbara, and -now she thought she saw more clearly than before into a -matter that looked blacker the more she saw.</p> - -<p>‘There’s a man in yonder who set fire to his house to -get the insurance. Folks say his house was but a rummagy -old place. ‘Tis a pity. Now, if he had got away it -would not have mattered; but, a rascal who did not respect -his own father!—not that I hold with a man prosecuting -his own son. That was hard. Still, if one was to -escape, I don’t see why the Lord blessed the undertaking -of the man who robbed his father, and turned His face -away from him who only fired his house to get the -insurance.’</p> - -<p>The air ceased to sparkle as Miss Jordan rode the -second stage of her journey: the sun was less bright, the -fragrance of the gorse less sweet. She did not speak to -her young groom the whole way, but rode silently, with -compressed lips and moody brow. The case was worse -than she had anticipated. Jasper had robbed his father, -and all that story of his coming as a messenger from Mr. -Babb with the money was false.</p> - -<p>One evening, unattended, Barbara Jordan rode to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -Buckfastleigh, asked for the house of Mr. Babb, and dismounted -at the door. The house was a plain, ugly, square -modern erection, almost an insult to the beauty of the -surroundings. The drive from the entrance gate was -grass-grown. There was a stucco porch. The door was -painted drab, and the paint was blistered, and had flaked -off. The house also was mottled. It had been painted -over plaster and cement, and the paint had curled and -come off in patches. The whole place had an uncared-for -look. There were no flower beds, no creepers against the -walls; the rain-shoots to the roof were choked, and the -overflowing water had covered the walls where it reached -with slime, black and green. At the back of the house -was a factory, worked by a water-wheel, for cloth, and a -gravel well-trodden path led from the back door of the -house to the factory.</p> - -<p>Barbara had descended from her cob to open the gate -into the drive; and she walked up to the front door, leading -her horse. There she rang the bell, but had doubts -whether the wire were sound. She waited a long time, -and no one responded. She tried the bell again, and then -rapped with the handle of her whip against the door.</p> - -<p>Then she saw a face appear at a side window, observe -her and withdraw. A moment after, a shuffling tread -sounded in the hall, chains and bolts were undone, the -door was cautiously opened, and in it stood an old man -with white hair, and black beady eyes.</p> - -<p>‘What do you want? Who are you?’ he asked.</p> - -<p>‘Am I speaking to Mr. Babb?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, you are.’</p> - -<p>‘May I have a few words with you in private?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, there is no one in the house, except my housekeeper, -and she is deaf. You can say what you want -here.’</p> - -<p>‘Who is there to take my horse?’</p> - -<p>‘You can hold him by the bridle, and talk to me where -you stand. There’s no occasion for you to come in.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara saw into the hall; it was floored with stone, -the Buckfastleigh marble, but unpolished. The walls had -been papered with glazed imitation panelling, but the -paper had peeled off, and hung in strips. A chair with -wooden seat, that had not been wiped for weeks, a set of -coat and hat pegs, some broken, on one a very discoloured -great coat and a battered hat. In a corner a bulging green -umbrella, the silk detached from the whalebone.</p> - -<p>‘You see,’ said the old man grimly, half turning, as -he noticed that Barbara’s eyes were observing the interior; -‘you see, this is no place for ladies. It is a weaving -spider’s web, not a gallant’s bower.’</p> - -<p>‘But——’ the girl hesitated, ‘what I have to say is -very particular, and I would not be overheard on any -account.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah! ah!’ he giggled, ‘I’ll have no games played with -me. I’m no longer susceptible to fascination, and I ain’t -worth it; on my sacred word I’m not. I’m very poor, -very poor now. You can see it for yourself. Is this house -kept up, and the garden? Does the hall look like a lap of -luxury? I’m too poor to be a catch, so you may go away.’</p> - -<p>Barbara would have laughed had not the nature of her -visit been so serious.</p> - -<p>‘I am Miss Jordan,’ she said, ‘daughter of Mr. Jordan -of Morwell, from whom you borrowed money seventeen -years ago.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh!’ he gave a start of surprise. ‘Ah, well, I have -sent back as much as I could spare. Some was stolen. It -is not convenient to me after this reverse to find all now.’</p> - -<p>‘My father has received nothing. What you sent was -lost or stolen on the way.’</p> - -<p>The old man’s jaw fell, and he stared blankly at her.</p> - -<p>‘It is as I say. My father has received nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘I sent it by my son.’</p> - -<p>‘He has lost it.’</p> - -<p>‘It is false. He has stolen it.’</p> - -<p>‘What is to be done?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Oh, that is for your father to decide. When my son -robbed me, I locked him up. Now let your father see to it. -I have done my duty, my conscience is clear.’</p> - -<p>Barbara looked steadily, with some curiosity, into his -face. The face was repulsive. The strongly marked features -which might have been handsome in youth, were exaggerated -by age. His white hair was matted and uncombed. -He had run his fingers through it whilst engaged -on his accounts, and had divided it into rat’s-tails. His -chin and jaws were frouzy with coarse white bristles. In -his black eyes was a keen twinkle of avarice and cunning. -Old age and the snows of the winter of life soften a harsh -face, if there be any love in it; but in this there was none. -If a fire had burnt on the hearth of the old man’s heart, -not a spark remained alive, the hearth was choked with -grey ashes. Barbara traced a resemblance between the -old man and his son. From his father, Jasper had derived -his aquiline nose, and the shape of mouth and chin. But -the expression of the faces was different. That of Jasper -was noble, that of his father mean. The eyes of the son -were gentle, those of Mr. Babb hard as pebbles that had -been polished.</p> - -<p>As Barbara talked with and observed the old man she -recalled what Jasper had said of ill-treatment and lack of -love. There was no tenderness to be got out of such a -man as that before her.</p> - -<p>‘Now look you here,’ said Mr. Babb. ‘Do you see -that stretch of field yonder where the cloth is strained in -the sun? Very well. That cloth is mine. It is woven in -my mill yonder. That field was purchased seventeen years -ago for my accommodation. I can’t repay the money now -without selling the factory or the field, and neither is worth -a shilling without the other. No—we must all put up with -losses. I have mine; the Lord sends your father his. A -wise Providence orders all that. Tell him so. His heart -has been hankering after mammon, and now Heaven has -deprived him of it. I’ve had losses too. I’ve learned to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -bear them. So must he. What is your name?—I mean -your Christian name?’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! not Eve—dear, no. You don’t look as if that -were your name.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve is my sister—my half-sister.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah, ha! the elder daughter. And what has become of -the little one?’</p> - -<p>‘She is well, at home, and beautiful as she is good. -She is not at all like me.’</p> - -<p>‘That is a good job—for you. I mean, that you are not -like her. Is she lively?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, like a lark, singing, dancing, merry.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course, thoughtless, light, a feather that flies and -tosses in the breath.’</p> - -<p>‘To return to the money. It was to have been my -sister’s.’</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ said the old man with a giggle, ‘let it so remain. -It <i>was</i> to have been. Now it cannot be. Whose -fault is that? Not mine. I kept the money for your -father. I am a man of my word. When I make a covenant -I do not break it. But my son—my son!’</p> - -<p>‘Your son is now with us.’</p> - -<p>‘You say he has stolen the money. Let your father -not spare him. There is no good in being lenient. Be -just. When my son robbed me, I did not spare him. I will -not lift a little finger to save Jasper, who now, as you say, -has robbed your father. Wait where you are; I will run -in, and write something, which will perhaps satisfy Mr. -Jordan; wait here, you cannot enter, or your horse would -run away. What did you give for that cob? not much. -Do you want to sell him? I don’t mind ten pounds. He’s -not worth more. See how he hangs his off hind leg. That’s -a blemish that would stand in your way of selling. Would -you like to go over the factory? No charge, you can tip -the foreman a shilling. No cloth weaving your way, only -wool growing; and—judging from what I saw of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -father—wool-gathering.’ With a cackle the old man slipped -in and shut the door in Barbara’s face.</p> - -<p>Miss Jordan stood patting the neck of her disparaged -horse. ‘You are not to be parted with, are you, Jock, to -an old skinflint who would starve you?’</p> - -<p>The cob put his nose on her shoulder, and rubbed it. -She looked round. Everything spoke of sordidness, only -the factory seemed cared for, where money was made. -None was wasted on the adornment, even on the decencies, -of life.</p> - -<p>The door opened. Mr. Babb had locked it after him -as he went in. He came out with a folded letter in his -hand.</p> - -<p>‘Here,’ he said, ‘give that to your father.’</p> - -<p>‘I must tell you, Mr. Babb, that your son Jasper is -with us. He professes to have lost the money. He met -with an accident and was nearly killed. He remains with -us, as a sort of steward to my father, for a while, only for -a while.’</p> - -<p>‘Let him stay. I don’t want him back, I won’t have -him back. I dare say, now, it would do him good to have -his Bible. I’ll give you that to take to him. He may read -and come to repentance.’</p> - -<p>‘It is possible that there may be other things of his he -will want. If you can make them up into a bundle, I will -send for them. No,’ she said after a pause, ‘I will not -send for them. I will take them myself.’</p> - -<p>‘You will not mind staying there whilst I fetch them?’ -said Mr. Babb. ‘Of course you won’t. You have the -horse to hold. If you like to take a look round the garden -you may, but there is nothing to see. Visit the mill if you -like. You can give twopence to a boy to hold the horse.’ -Then he slipped in again and relocked the door.</p> - -<p>Barbara was only detained ten minutes. Mr. Babb -came back with a jumble of clothes, a Bible, and a violin, -not tied together, but in his arms anyhow. He threw -everything on the doorstep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘There,’ he said, ‘I will hold the bridle, whilst you -make this into a bundle. I’m not natty with my fingers.’ -He took the horse from her. Barbara knelt under the portico -and folded Jasper’s clothes, and tied all together in an -old table cover the father gave for the purpose. ‘Take -the fiddle,’ he said, ‘or I’ll smash it.’</p> - -<p>She looked up at him gravely, whilst knotting the ends.</p> - -<p>‘Have you a message for your son—of love and forgiveness?’</p> - -<p>‘Forgiveness! it is your father he has robbed. Love——There -is no love lost between us.’</p> - -<p>‘He is lonely and sad,’ said Barbara, not now looking -up, but busy with her hands, tightening the knots and -intent on the bundle. ‘I can see that his heart is aching; -night and day there is a gnawing pain in his breast. -No one loves him, and he seems to me to be a man who -craves for love, who might be reclaimed by love.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t forget the letter for your father,’ said Mr. -Babb.</p> - -<p>‘What about your son? Have you no message for -him?’</p> - -<p>‘None. Mind that envelope. What it contains is precious.’</p> - -<p>‘Is it a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, dear me, no! It is a text of scripture.’</p> - -<p>Then, hastily, Mr. Babb stepped back, shut the door, -and bolted and chained it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c93" id="c93">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">A SINE QUÂ NON.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> was on her way home from Ashburton. She had -attended her aunt’s funeral, and knew that a little sum of -about fifty pounds per annum was hers, left her by her -aunt. She was occupied with her thoughts. Was there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -any justification for Jasper? The father was hateful. -She could excuse his leaving home; that was nothing; -such a home must be intolerable to a young man of spirit—but -to rob his father was another matter. Barbara could -not quite riddle the puzzle out in her mind. It was clear -that Mr. Babb had confided the fifteen hundred pounds to -Jasper, and that Jasper had made away with them. He -had been taken and sent to prison at Prince’s Town. -Thence he had escaped, and whilst escaping had met with -the accident which had brought him to become an inmate -of Morwell House. Jasper’s story that he had lost the -money was false. He had himself taken it. Barbara could -not quite make it out; she tried to put it from her. What -mattered it how the robbery had been committed?—sufficient -that the man who took the money was with her -father. What had he done with the money? That no one -but himself could tell, and that she would not ask him.</p> - -<p>It was vain crying over spilt milk. Fifteen hundred -pounds were gone, and the loss of that money might affect -Eve’s prospects. Eve was already attracting admiration, -but who would take her for her beauty alone? Eve, Barbara -said to herself, was a jewel that must be kept in a -velvet and morocco case, and must not be put to rough -usage. She must have money. She must marry where -nothing would be required of her but to look and be—charming.</p> - -<p>It was clear to Barbara that Mr. Coyshe was struck with -her sister, and Mr. Coyshe was a promising, pushing man, -sure to make his way. If a man has a high opinion of himself -he impresses others with belief in him. Mr. Jordan -was loud in his praises; Barbara had sufficient sense to -dislike his boasting, but she was influenced by it. Though -his manner was not to her taste, she was convinced that -Mr. Coyshe was a genius, and a man whose name would -be known through England.</p> - -<p>What was to be done? The only thing she could think -of was to insist on her father making over Morwell to Eve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -on his death; as for herself—she had her fifty pounds, and -she could go as housekeeper to some lady; the Duchess of -Bedford would recommend her. <i>She</i> was was not likely -to be thought of by any man with only fifty pounds, and -with a plain face.</p> - -<p>When Barbara reached this point she laughed, and -then she sighed. She laughed because the idea of her -being married was so absurd. She sighed because she -was tired. Just then, quite uncalled for and unexpected, -the form of Jasper Babb rose up before her mind’s eye, as -she had last seen him, pale, looking after her, waving his -hat.</p> - -<p>She was returning to him without a word from his -father, of forgiveness, of encouragement, of love. She was -scheming a future for herself and for Eve; Jasper had no -future, only a horrible past, which cast its shadow forward, -and took all hope out of the present, and blighted the -future. If she could but have brought him a kind message it -would have inspired him to redeem his great fault, to persevere -in well-doing. She knew that she would find him -watching for her return with a wistful look in his dark full -eyes, asking her if she brought him consolation.</p> - -<p>Then she reproached herself because she had left his -parting farewell unacknowledged. She had been ungracious; -no doubt she had hurt his feelings.</p> - -<p>She had passed through Tavistock, with her groom riding -some way behind her, when she heard the sound of a trotting -horse, and almost immediately a well-known voice -called, ‘Glad to see your face turned homewards, Miss -Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘Good evening, Mr. Coyshe.’</p> - -<p>‘Our roads run together, to my advantage. What is -that you are carrying? Can I relieve you?’</p> - -<p>‘A violin. The boy is careless, he might let it fall. -Besides he is burdened with my valise and a bundle.’</p> - -<p>‘What? has your aunt bequeathed a violin to you?’</p> - -<p>A little colour came into Barbara’s cheeks, and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -answered, ‘I am bringing it home from over the moor.’ -She blushed to have to equivocate.</p> - -<p>‘I hope you have had something more substantial left -you than an old fiddle,’ said the surgeon.</p> - -<p>‘Thank you, my poor aunt has been good enough to -leave me something comfortable, which will enable my -dear father to make up to Eve for the sum that has been -lost.’</p> - -<p>‘I am glad to hear it,’ said Mr. Coyshe. ‘Charmed!’</p> - -<p>‘By the way,’ Barbara began, ‘I wanted to say something -to you, but I have not had the opportunity. You -were quite in the wrong about the saucer of sour milk, -though I admit there was a stocking—but how you saw -that, passes my comprehension.’</p> - -<p>‘I did not see it, I divined it,’ said the young man, with -his protruding light eyes staring at her with an odd mischievous -expression in them. ‘It is part of the mysteries -of medicine—a faculty akin to inspiration in some doctors, -that they see with their inner eyes what is invisible to the -outer eye. For instance, I can see right into your heart, -and I see there something that looks to me very much like -the wound I patched up in Mr. Jasper’s pate. Whilst his -has been healing, yours has been growing worse.’</p> - -<p>Barbara turned cold and shivered. ‘For heaven’s sake, -Mr. Coyshe, do not say such things; you frighten me.’</p> - -<p>He laughed.</p> - -<p>She remained silent, uneasy and vexed. Presently she -said, ‘It is not true; there is nothing the matter with me.’</p> - -<p>‘But the stocking was under the sofa-cushion, and you -said, Not true, at first. Wait and look.’</p> - -<p>‘Doctor, it is not true at all. That is, I have a sort of -trouble or pain, but it is all about Eve. I have been very -unhappy about the loss of her money, and that has fretted -me greatly.’</p> - -<p>‘I foresaw it would be lost.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, it is lost, but Eve shall be no loser.’</p> - -<p>‘Look here, Miss Jordan, a beautiful face is like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -beautiful song, charming in itself, but infinitely better with -an accompaniment.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean, Mr. Coyshe?’</p> - -<p>‘A sweet girl may have beauty and amiability, but -though these may be excellent legs for the matrimonial -stool, a third must be added to prevent an upset, and that—metallic.’</p> - -<p>Barbara made no reply. The audacity and impudence -of the young surgeon took the power to reply from her.</p> - -<p>‘You have not given me that fiddle,’ said Coyshe.</p> - -<p>‘I am not sure you will carry it carefully,’ answered -Barbara; nevertheless she resigned it to him. ‘When you -part from me let the boy have it. I will not ride into Morwell -cumbered with it.’</p> - -<p>‘A doctor,’ said Coyshe, ‘if he is to succeed in his profession, -must be endowed with instinct as well as science. -A cat does not know what ails it, but it knows when it is -out of sorts; instinct teaches it to swallow a blade of grass. -Instinct with us discovers the disorder, science points out -the remedy. I may say without boasting that I am brimming -with instinct—you have had a specimen or two—and -I have passed splendid examinations, so that testifies to my -science. Beer Alston cannot retain me long, my proper -sphere is London. I understand the Duke has heard of -me, and said to someone whom I will not name, that if I -come to town he will introduce me. If once started on the -rails I must run to success. Now I want a word with you -in confidence, Miss Jordan. That boy is sufficiently in the -rear not to hear. You will be mum, I trust?’</p> - -<p>Barbara slightly nodded her assent.</p> - -<p>‘I confess to you that I have been struck with your -sister, Miss Eve. Who could fail to see her and not become -a worshipper? She is a radiant star; I have never -seen anyone so beautiful, and she is as good as she is -beautiful.’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, indeed she is,’ said Barbara, earnestly.</p> - -<p>‘Montecuculli said,’ continued the surgeon, ‘that in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -war three things are necessary: money; secondly, money; -thirdly, money. In love it is the same. We may regret -it, but it is undeniable.’</p> - -<p>Barbara did not know what to say. The assurance of -the young man imposed on her; she did not like him particularly, -but he was superior in culture to most of the -young men she knew, who had no ideas beyond hunting -and shooting.</p> - -<p>After a little while of consideration, she said, ‘Do you -think you would make Eve happy?’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure of it. I have all the instincts of the family-man -in me. A man may marry a score of times and be -father of fifty children, without instinct developing the -special features of domesticity. They are born in a man, -not acquired. <i>Pater-familias nascitur, non fit.</i>’</p> - -<p>‘Have you spoken to my father?’</p> - -<p>‘No, not yet; I am only feeling my way. I don’t mind -telling you what brought me into notice with the Duke. -He was ill last autumn when down at Endsleigh for the -shooting, and his physician was sent for. I met the doctor -at the Bedford Inn at Tavistock; some of us of the faculty -had an evening together, and his Grace’s condition was -discussed, casually of course. I said nothing. We were -smoking and drinking rum and water. There was something -in his Grace’s condition which puzzled his physician, -and he clearly did not understand how to treat the case. <i>I</i> -knew. I have instinct. Some rum had been spilled on -the table; I dipped the end of my pipe in it, and scribbled -a prescription on the mahogany. I saw the eye of the -doctor on it. I have reason to believe he used my remedy. -It answered. He is not ungrateful. I say no more. A -city set on a hill cannot be hid. Beer Alston is a bushel -covering a light. Wait.’</p> - -<p>Barbara said nothing. She rode on, deep in thought. -The surgeon jogged at her side, his protruding water-blue -eyes peering in all directions.</p> - -<p>‘You think your sister will not be penniless?’ he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I am certain she will not. Now that my aunt has -provided for me, Eve will have Morwell after my father’s -death, and I am sure she is welcome to what comes to me -from my aunt till then.’</p> - -<p>‘Halt!’ exclaimed the surgeon.</p> - -<p>Barbara drew rein simultaneously with Mr. Coyshe.</p> - -<p>‘Who are you there, watching, following us, skulking -behind bushes and hedges?’ shouted Coyshe.</p> - -<p>‘What is it?’ asked Miss Jordan, surprised and -alarmed.</p> - -<p>The surgeon did not answer, but raised to his shoulder -a stick he carried.</p> - -<p>‘Answer! Who are you? Show yourself, or I fire!’</p> - -<p>‘Doctor Coyshe,’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘forbear in pity!’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Miss Jordan,’ he said in a low tone, ‘set your -mind at rest. I have only an umbrella stick, of which all -the apparatus is blown away except the catch. Who is -there?’ he cried, again presenting his stick.</p> - -<p>‘Once, twice!’—click went the catch. ‘If I call three -and fire, your blood be on your own head!’</p> - -<p>There issued in response a scream, piercing in its shrillness, -inhuman in its tone.</p> - -<p>Barbara shuddered, and her horse plunged.</p> - -<p>A mocking burst of laughter ensued, and then forth -from the bushes into the road leaped an impish boy, who -drew a bow over the catgut of a fiddle under his chin, and -ran along before them, laughing, leaping, and evoking uncouth -and shrill screams from his instrument.</p> - -<p>‘A pixy,’ said the surgeon. ‘I knew by instinct one -was dodging us. Fortunately I could not lay my hand on -a riding whip this morning, and so took my old umbrella -stick. Now, farewell. So you think Miss Eve will have -Morwell, and the matrimonial stool its golden leg? That -is right.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c100" id="c100">CHAPTER XV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">AT THE QUAY.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">On</span> the day of Barbara’s departure Eve attended diligently -to the duties of the house, and found that everything was -in such order that she was content to believe that all would -go on of its own accord in the old way, without her supervision, -which declined next day, and was pretermitted on -the third.</p> - -<p>Jasper did not appear for mid-day dinner; he was busy -on the old quay. He saw that it must be put to rights. -The woods could be thinned, the coppice shredded for bark, -and bark put on a barge at the bottom of the almost precipitous -slope, and so sent to the tanyards at Devonport. -There was waste of labour in carrying the bark up the hills -and then carting it to Beer Ferris, some ten miles.</p> - -<p>No wonder that, as Mr. Jordan complained, the bark -was unremunerative. The profit was eaten up by the -wasteful transport. It was the same with the timber. -There was demand for oak and pine at the dockyards, and -any amount was grown in the woods of Morwell.</p> - -<p>So Jasper asked leave to have the quay put to rights, -and Mr. Jordan consented. He must supervise proceedings -himself, so he remained the greater part of the day -by the river edge. The ascent to Morwell House was -arduous if attempted directly up the steep fall, long if he -went by the zigzag through the wood. It would take him -a stiff three-quarters of an hour to reach the house and -half-an-hour to return. Accordingly he asked that his -dinner might be sent him.</p> - -<p>On the third day, to Eve’s dismay, she found that she -had forgotten to let him have his food, both that day and -the preceding. He had made no remark when he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -back the day before. Eve’s conscience smote her—a convalescent -left for nine or ten hours without food.</p> - -<p>When she recalled her promise to send it him she -found that there was no one to send. In shame and self-reproach, -she packed a little basket, and resolved to carry -it to him. The day was lovely. She put her broad-brimmed -straw hat, trimmed with forget-me-not bows, on -her head, and started on her walk.</p> - -<p>The bank of the Tamar falls from high moorland many -hundreds of feet to the water’s edge. In some places the -rocks rise in sheer precipices with gullies of coppice and -heather between them. Elsewhere the fall is less abrupt, -and allows trees to grow, and the richness of the soil and -the friable nature of the rock allows them to grow to considerable -dimensions. From Morwell House a long <i>détour</i> -through beautiful forest, affording peeps of mountains and -water, gave the easiest descent to the quay, but Eve -reserved this road for the ascent, and slid merrily down -the narrow corkscrew path in the brushwood between the -crags, which afforded the quickest way down to the water’s -edge.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Mr. Jasper!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have sinned, -through my forgetfulness; but see, to make amends, I -have brought you a little bottle of papa’s Burgundy and a -wee pot of red currant jelly for the cold mutton.’</p> - -<p>‘And you have come yourself to overwhelm me with a -sense of gratitude.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Mr. Jasper, I am so ashamed of my naughtiness. -I assure you I nearly cried. Bab—I mean Barbara—would -never have forgotten. She remembers everything. -Her head is a perfect store-closet, where all things are in -place and measured and weighed and on their proper -shelves. You had no dinner yesterday.’</p> - -<p>‘To-day’s is a banquet that makes up for all deficiencies.’</p> - -<p>Eve liked Jasper; she had few to converse with, very -few acquaintances, no friends, and she was delighted to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -able to have a chat with anyone, especially if that person -flattered her—and who did not? Everyone naturally -offered incense before her; she almost demanded it as a -right. The Tamar formed a little bay under a wall of -rock. A few ruins marked the site of the storehouses and -boatsheds of the abbots. The sun glittered on the water, -forming of it a blazing mirror, and the dancing light was -reflected back by the flower-wreathed rocks.</p> - -<p>‘Where are the men?’ asked Eve.</p> - -<p>‘Gone into the wood to fell some pines. We must -drive piles into the bed of the river, and lay beams on -them for a basement.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh,’ said Eve listlessly, ‘I don’t understand about -basements and all that.’ She seated herself on a log. -‘How pleasant it is here with the flicker of the water in -one’s face and eyes, and a sense of being without shadow! -Mr. Jasper, do you believe in pixies?’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean, Miss?’</p> - -<p>‘The little imps who live in the mines and on the -moors, and play mischievous tricks on mortals. They -have the nature of spirits, and yet they have human -shapes, and are like old men or boys. They watch treasures -and veins of ore, and when mortals approach the -metal, they decoy the trespassers away.’</p> - -<p>‘Like the lapwing that pretends to be wounded, and -so lures you from its precious eggs. Do <i>you</i> believe in -pixies?’</p> - -<p>Eve laughed and shook her pretty head. ‘I think so, -Mr. Jasper, for I have seen one.’</p> - -<p>‘What was he like?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know, I only caught glimpses of him. Do -not laugh satirically. I am serious. I did see something, -but I don’t know exactly what I saw.’</p> - -<p>‘That is not a very convincing reason for the existence -of pixies.’</p> - -<p>Eve drew her little feet together, and folded her -arms in her lap, and smiled, and tossed her head. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -had taken off her hat, and the sun glorified her shining -head.</p> - -<p>Jasper looked admiringly at her.</p> - -<p>‘Are you not afraid of a sunstroke, Miss Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘O dear no! The sun cannot harm me. I love him -so passionately. O Mr. Jasper! I wish sometimes I -lived far away in another country where there are no wet -days and grey skies and muggy atmospheres, and where -the hedges do not drip, and the lanes do not stand ankle -deep in mud, and the old walls exude moisture indoors, -and one’s pretty shoes do not go mouldy if not wiped over -daily. I should like to be in a land like Italy, where all -the people sing and dance and keep holiday, and the bells -in the towers are ever ringing, and the lads have bunches -of gold and silver flowers in their hats, and the girls have -scarlet skirts, and the village musicians sit in a cart -adorned with birch branches and ribands and roses, and -the trumpets go tu-tu! and the drums bung-bung!—I -have read about it, and cried for vexation that I was not -there.’</p> - -<p>‘But the pixy?’</p> - -<p>‘I would banish all pixies and black Copplestones and -Whish hounds; they belong to rocks and moors and -darkness and storm. I hate gloom and isolation.’</p> - -<p>‘You are happy at Morwell, Miss Eve. One has but -to look in your face and see it. Not a crabbed line of care, -not the track of a tear, all smoothness and smiles.’</p> - -<p>The girl twinkled with pleasure, and said, ‘That is -because we are in midsummer; wait till winter and see -what becomes of me. Then I am sad enough. We are -shut in for five months—six months—seven almost, by -mud and water. O, how the winds howl! How the trees -toss and roar! How the rain patters! That is not pleasant. -I wish, I do wish, I were a squirrel; then I would -coil myself in a corner lined with moss, and crack nuts in -a doze till the sun came again and woke me up with the -flowers. Then I would throw out all my cracked nutshells<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -with both paws, and leap to the foot of a tree, run -up it, and skip from branch to branch, and swing in the -summer sunshine on the topmost twig. O, Mr. Jasper, -how much wiser than we the swallows are! I would -rather be a swallow than a squirrel, and sail away when I -felt the first frost to the land of eternal summer, into the -blazing eye of the sun.’</p> - -<p>‘But as you have no wings——’</p> - -<p>‘I sit and mope and talk to Barbara about cows and -cabbages, and to father about any nonsense that comes -into my head.’</p> - -<p>‘As yet you have given me no description of the pixy.’</p> - -<p>‘How can I, when I scarce saw him? I will tell you -exactly what happened, if you will not curl up the corner -of your lips, as though mocking me. That papa never -does. I tell him all the rhodomontade I can, and he -listens gravely, and frightens and abashes me sometimes -by swallowing it whole.’</p> - -<p>‘Where did you see, or not see, the pixy?’</p> - -<p>‘On my way to you. I heard something stirring in -the wood, and I half saw what I took to be a boy, or a -little man the size of a boy. When I stood still, he stood; -when I moved, I fancied he moved. I heard the crackle -of sticks and the stir of the bushes. I am sure of nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘Were you frightened?’</p> - -<p>‘No; puzzled, not frightened. If this had occurred at -night, it would have been different. I thought it might -have been a red-deer; they are here sometimes, strayed -from Exmoor, and have such pretty heads and soft eyes; -but this was not. I fancied once I saw a queer little face -peering at me from behind a pine tree. I uttered a feeble -cry and ran on.’</p> - -<p>‘I know exactly what it was,’ said Jasper, with a grave -smile. ‘There is a pixy lives in the Raven Rock; he has -a smithy far down in the heart of the cliff, and there he -works all winter at a vein of pure gold, hammering and -turning the golden cups and marsh marigolds with which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -to strew the pastures and watercourses in spring. But it -is dull for the pixy sitting alone without light; he has no -one to love and care for him, and, though the gold glows -in his forge, his little heart is cold. He has been dreaming -all winter of a sweet fairy he saw last summer wearing -a crown of marigold, wading in cuckoo flowers, and now -he has come forth to capture that fairy and draw her down -into his stony palace.’</p> - -<p>‘To waste her days,’ laughed Eve, ‘in sighing for the -sun, whilst her roses wither and her eyes grow dim, away -from the twitter of the birds and the scent of the gorse. -He shan’t have me.’ Then, after a pause, during which -she gathered some marigolds and put them into her hat, -she said, half seriously, half jestingly, ‘Do you believe in -pixies?’</p> - -<p>‘You must not ask me. I have seen but one fairy in -all my life, and she now sits before me.’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper,’ said Eve, with a dimple in her cheek, in -recognition of the compliment,—’Mr. Jasper, do you know -my mother is a mystery to me as much as pixies and -fairies and white ladies?’</p> - -<p>‘No, I was not aware of that.’</p> - -<p>‘She was called, like me, Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘I had a sister of that name who is dead, and my -mother’s name was Eve. She is dead.’</p> - -<p>‘I did not think the name was so common,’ said the -girl. ‘I fancied we were the only two Eves that ever -were. I do not know what my mother’s other name was. -Is not that extraordinary?’</p> - -<p>Jasper Babb made no reply.</p> - -<p>‘I have been reading “Undine.” Have you read that -story? O, it has made me so excited. The writer says -that it was founded on what he read in an old author, and -that author, Paracelsus, is one papa believes in. So, I -suppose, there is some truth in the tale. The story of my -mother is quite like that of Undine. One night my father -heard a cry on the moor, and he went to the place, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -found my mother all alone. She was with him for a year -and a day, and would have stayed longer if my father could -have refrained from asking her name. When he did that -she was forced to leave him. She was never seen again.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Eve, this cannot be true.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know. That is what old Betsy Davy told -me. Papa never speaks of her. He has been an altered -man since she left him. He put up the stone cross on the -moor at the spot where he found her. I like to fancy -there was something mysterious in her. I can’t ask papa, -and Bab was—I mean Barbara—was too young at the -time to remember anything about it.’</p> - -<p>‘This is very strange.’</p> - -<p>‘Betsy Davy says that my father was not properly -married to her, because he could not get a priest to perform -the ceremony without knowing what she was.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Miss Eve, instead of listening to the cock-and-bull -stories——’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper! How can you—how can you use such -an expression? The story is very pretty and romantic, -and not at all like things of this century. I dare say -there is some truth in it.’</p> - -<p>‘I am far from any intention of offending you, dear -young lady; but I venture to offer you a piece of advice. -Do not listen to idle tales; do not encourage people of a -lower class to speak to you about your mother; ask your -father what you want to know, he will tell you; and take -my word for it, romance there always must be in love, but -there will be nothing of what you imagine, with a fancy -set on fire by “Undine.”’</p> - -<p>Her volatile mind had flown elsewhere.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said, ‘have you ever been to a -theatre?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes.’</p> - -<p>‘O, I should like it above everything else. I dream of -it. We have Inchbald’s “British Theatre” in the library, -and it is my dearest reading. Barbara likes a cookery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -book or a book on farming; I cannot abide them. Do -you know what Mr. Coyshe said the other day when I was -rattling on before him and papa? He said I had missed -my vocation, and ought to have been on the stage. What -do you think?’</p> - -<p>‘I think a loving and merciful Providence has done -best to put such a precious treasure here where it can -best be preserved.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t agree with you at all,’ said Eve, standing up. -‘I think Mr. Coyshe showed great sense. Anyhow, I -should like to see a theatre—O, above everything in the -world! Papa thinks of Rome or the Holy Land; but I -say—a theatre. I can’t help it; I think it, and must say -it. Good-bye! I have things my sister left that I must -attend to. I wish she were back. Oh, Mr. Jasper, do -not you?’</p> - -<p>‘Everyone will be pleased to welcome her home.’</p> - -<p>‘Because I have let everything go to sixes and sevens, -eh?’</p> - -<p>‘For her own sake.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, I do miss her dreadfully, do not you?’</p> - -<p>He did not answer. She cast him another good-bye, -and danced off into the wood, swinging her hat by the blue -ribands.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c107" id="c107">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">WATT.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> air under the pines was balmy. The hot July sun -brought out their resinous fragrance. Gleams of fire fell -through the boughs and dappled the soil at intervals, and -on these sun-flakes numerous fritillary butterflies with -silver under-wings were fluttering, and countless flies were -humming. The pines grew only at the bottom of the -crags, and here and there in patches on the slopes. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -woods were composed for the most part of oak, now in its -richest, fullest foliage, the golden hue of early spring -changing to the duller green of summer. Beech also -abounded with their clean stems, and the soil beneath -them bare of weed, and here and there a feathery birch -with erect silver stem struggled up in the overgrowth to -the light. The wood was full of foxgloves, spires of pink -dappled bells, and of purple columbine. Wild roses grew -wherever a rock allowed them to wreath in sunshine and -burst into abundant bloom over its face. Eve carried her -straw hat on her arm, hung by its blue ribands. She -needed its shelter in the wood no more than in her father’s -hall.</p> - -<p>She came to a brook, dribbling and tinkling on its way -through moss and over stone. The path was fringed with -blazing marigolds. Eve had already picked some, she now -halted, and brimmed the extemporised basket with more of -the golden flowers.</p> - -<p>The gloom, the fragrant air, the flicker of colour made -her think of the convent chapel at Lanherne, whither she -had been sent for her education, but whence, having pined -under the restraint, she had been speedily removed. As -she walked she swung her hat like a censer. From it rose -the fresh odour of flowers, and from it dropped now and -then a marigold like a burning cinder. Scarce thinking -what she did, Eve assumed the slow and measured pace of -a religious procession, as she had seen one at Lanherne, -still swinging her hat, and letting the flowers fall from it -whilst she chanted meaningless words to a sacred strain. -Then she caught her straw hat to her, and holding it before -her in her left arm, advanced at a quicker pace, still -singing. Now she dipped her right hand in the crown and -strewed the blossoms to left and right, as did the little -girls in the Corpus Christi procession round the convent -grounds at Lanherne. Her song quickened and brightened, -and changed its character as her flighty thoughts shifted -to other topics, and her changeful mood assumed another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -complexion. Her tune became that of the duet <i>Là ci darem -la mano</i>, in ‘Don Giovanni,’ which she had often sung -with her sister. She sang louder and more joyously, and -her feet moved in rhythm to this song, as they had to the -ecclesiastical chant; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed.</p> - -<p>It seemed to her that a delicate echo accompanied her—very -soft and spiritual, now in snatches, then low, rolling, -long-drawn-out. She stopped and listened, then went -on again. What she heard was the echo from the rocks -and tree boles.</p> - -<p>But presently the road became steeper, and she could -no longer spare breath for her song; now the sacred chant -was quite forgotten, but the sweet air of Mozart clung to -her memory, as the scent of pot-pourri to a parlour, and -there it would linger the rest of the day.</p> - -<p>As she walked on she was in a dream. What must it -be to hear these songs accompanied by instruments, and -with light and scenery, and acting on the stage? Oh, that -she could for once in her life have the supreme felicity of -seeing a real play!</p> - -<p>Suddenly a flash of vivid golden light broke before her, -the trees parted, and she stood on the Raven Rock, a precipice -that shoots high above the Tamar and commands a wide -prospect over Cornwall—Hingston Hill, where Athelstan -fought and beat the Cornish in the last stand the Britons -made, and Kitt Hill, a dome of moorclad mountain. As -she stepped forth on the rock to enjoy the light and view -and air, there rushed out of the oak and dogwood bushes -a weird boy, who capered and danced, brandished a fiddle, -clapped it under his chin, and still dancing, played <i>Là ci -darem</i> fast, faster, till his little arms went faster than Eve -could see.</p> - -<p>The girl stood still, petrified with terror. Here was the -Pixy of the Raven Rock Jasper had spoken of. The -malicious boy saw and revelled in her fear, and gambolled -round her, grimacing and still fiddling till his tune led up -to and finished in a shriek.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘There, there,’ said he, at length, lowering the violin -and bow; ‘how I have scared you, Eve!’</p> - -<p>Eve trembled in every limb, and was too alarmed to -speak. The scenery, the rock, the boy, swam in a blue -haze before her eyes.</p> - -<p>‘There, Eve, don’t be frightened. You led me on with -your singing. I followed in your flowery traces. Don’t -you know me?’</p> - -<p>Eve shook her head. She could not speak.</p> - -<p>‘You have seen me. You saw me that night when I -came riding over your downs at the back of Martin, when -poor Jasper fell—you remember me. I smashed your -rattletrap gig. What a piece of good luck it was that -Jasper’s horse went down and not ours. I might have -broken my fiddle. I’d rather break a leg, especially that -of another person.’</p> - -<p>Eve had not thought of the boy since that eventful -night. Indeed, she had seen little of him then.</p> - -<p>‘I remember,’ she said, ‘there was a boy.’</p> - -<p>‘Myself. Watt is my name, or in full, Walter. If you -doubt my humanity touch my hand; feel, it is warm.’ -He grasped Eve and drew her out on the rocky platform.</p> - -<p>‘Sit down, Eve. I know you better than you know -me. I have heard Martin speak of you. That is how I -know about you. Look me in the face.’</p> - -<p>Eve raised her eyes to his. The boy had a strange -countenance. The hair was short-cropped and black, the -skin olive. He had protruding and large ears, and very -black keen eyes.</p> - -<p>‘What do you think is my age?’ asked the boy. ‘I -am nineteen. I am an ape. I shall never grow into a -man.’ He began again to skip and make grimaces. Eve -shrank away in alarm.</p> - -<p>‘There! Put your fears aside, and be reasonable,’ said -Watt, coming to a rest. ‘Jasper is below, munching his -dinner. I have seen him. He would not eat whilst you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -were by. He did not suspect I was lying on the rock -overhead in the heath, peering down on you both whilst -you were talking. I can skip about, I can scramble anywhere, -I can almost fly. I do not wish Jasper to know I -am here. No one must know but yourself, for I have come -here on an errand to you.’</p> - -<p>‘To me!’ echoed Eve, hardly recovered from her -terror.</p> - -<p>‘I am come from Martin. You remember Martin? -Oh! there are not many men like Martin. He is a king -of men. Imagine an old town, with ancient houses and a -church tower behind, and the moon shining on it, and in -the moonlight Martin in velvet, with a hat in which is a -white feather, and his violin, under a window, thinking -you are there, and singing <i>Deh, vieni alla finestra</i>. Do -you know the tune? Listen.’ The boy took his fiddle, -and touching the strings with his fingers, as though playing -a mandolin, he sang that sweet minstrel song.</p> - -<p>Eve’s blue eyes opened wonderingly, this was all so -strange and incomprehensible to her.</p> - -<p>‘See here, Miss Zerlina, you were singing <i>Là ci darem</i> -just now, try it with me. I can take Giovanni’s part and -you that of Zerlina.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot. I cannot, indeed.’</p> - -<p>‘You shall. I shall stand between you and the wood. -You cannot escape over the rock, you would be dashed to -pieces. I will begin.’</p> - -<p>Suddenly a loud voice interrupted him as he began to -play—’Watt!’</p> - -<p>Standing under the shadow of the oaks, with one foot -on the rocky platform, was Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘Watt, how came you here?’</p> - -<p>The boy lowered his violin and stood for a moment -speechless.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Eve,’ said Jasper, ‘please go home. After all, -you have encountered the pixy, and that a malicious and -dangerous imp. Stand aside, Watt.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> - -<p>The boy did not venture to resist. He stood back near -the edge of the rock and allowed Eve to pass him.</p> - -<p>When she was quite gone, Jasper said gravely to the -boy, ‘What has brought you here?’</p> - -<p>‘That is a pretty question to ask me, Jasper. We left -you here, broken and senseless, and naturally Martin and -I want to know what condition you are in. How could we -tell whether you were alive or dead? You know very well -that Martin could not come, so I have run here to obtain -information.’</p> - -<p>‘I am well,’ answered Jasper, ‘you may tell Martin, -everywhere but here,’ he laid his hand on his heart.</p> - -<p>‘With such a pretty girl near I do not wonder,’ laughed -the boy. ‘I shall tell poor Martin of the visits paid you at -the water’s edge.’</p> - -<p>‘That will do,’ said Jasper; ‘this joking offends me. -Tell Martin I am here, but with my heart aching for -him.’</p> - -<p>‘No occasion for that, Jasper. Not a cricket in the -grass is lighter of spirit than he.’</p> - -<p>‘I dare say,’ said the elder, ‘he does not feel matters -acutely. Tell him the money must be restored. Here I -stay as a pledge that the debt shall be paid. Tell him -that I insist on his restoring the money.’</p> - -<p>‘Christmas is coming, and after that Easter, and then, -all in good time, Christmas again; but money once passed, -returns no more.’</p> - -<p>‘I expect Martin to restore what he took. He is good -at heart, but inconsiderate. I know Martin better than -you. You are his bad angel. He loves me and is generous. -He knows what I have done for him, and when I tell him -that I must have the money back he will return it if he -can.’</p> - -<p>‘If he can!’ repeated the boy derisively. ‘It is well -you have thrown in that proviso. I once tossed my cap -into the Dart and ran two miles along the bank after it. I -saw it for two miles bobbing on the ripples, but at last it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -went over the weir above Totnes and disappeared. I believe -that cap was fished up at Dartmouth and is now worn -by the mayor’s son. It is so with money. Once let it out -of your hands and it avails nothing to run after it. It -disappears and comes up elsewhere to profit others.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is Martin now?’</p> - -<p>‘Anywhere and everywhere.’</p> - -<p>‘He is not in this county, I trust.’</p> - -<p>‘Did you never hear of the old lady who lost the store -closet key and hunted everywhere except in her own -pocket? What is under your nose is overlooked.’</p> - -<p>‘Go back to Martin. Tell him, as he values his safety -and my peace of mind, to keep out of the country, certainly -out of the county. Tell him to take to some honest work -and stick to it, and to begin his repentance by——’</p> - -<p>‘There! if I carry a preachment away with me I shall -never reach Martin. I had a surfeit of this in the olden -days, Jasper. I know a sailor lad who has been fed on -salt junk at sea till if you put but as much as will sit on -the end of your knife under his nose when he is on land -he will upset the table. It is the same with Martin and -me. No sermons for us, Jasper. So—see, I am off at the -first smell of a text.’</p> - -<p>He darted into the wood and disappeared, singing at -the top of his voice ‘Life let us cherish.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c113" id="c113">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">FORGET-ME-NOT!</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">That</span> night Eve could not sleep. She thought of her -wonderful adventure. Who was that strange boy? And -who was Martin? And, what was the link between these -two and Jasper?</p> - -<p>Towards morning, when she ought to have been stirring, -she fell asleep, and laughed in her dreams. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -woke with the sun shining in on her, and her father standing -by her bed, watching her.</p> - -<p>After the visions in which she had been steeped full of -fair forms and brilliant colours, it was a shock to her to -unclose her eyes on the haggard face of her father, with -sunken eyes.</p> - -<p>‘What is it, papa?’</p> - -<p>‘My dear, it is ten o’clock. I have waited for my -breakfast. The tea is cold, the toast has lost its crispness, -and the eggs are like the tea—cold.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa!’ she said sorrowfully, sitting up in bed; ‘I -have overslept myself. But, you will not begrudge me the -lovely dreams I have had. Papa! I saw a pixy yesterday.’</p> - -<p>‘Where, child?’</p> - -<p>‘On the Raven Rock.’</p> - -<p>He shut his eyes, and put his hand over his mouth. -Then he heaved a deep sigh, said nothing, turned, and -went out of the room.</p> - -<p>Eve was the idol of her father’s heart. He spoiled her, -by allowing her her own way in everything, by relieving -her of every duty, and heaping all the responsibilities on -the shoulders of his eldest daughter.</p> - -<p>Eve was so full of love and gaiety, that it was impossible -to be angry with her when she made provoking -mistakes; she was so penitent, so pretty in her apologies, -and so sincere in her purpose of amendment.</p> - -<p>Eve was warmly attached to her father. She had an -affectionate nature, but none of her feelings were deep. -Her rippling conversation, her buoyant spirits, enlivened -the prevailing gloom of Mr. Jordan. His sadness did not -depress her. Indeed, she hardly noticed it. Hers was not -a sympathetic nature. She exacted the sympathy of others, -but gave nothing more in return than prattle and laughter.</p> - -<p>She danced down the stairs when dressed, without any -regret for having kept her father waiting. He would eat a -better breakfast for a little delay, she said to herself, and -satisfied her conscience.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>She came into the breakfast-room in a white muslin -dress, covered with little blue sprigs, and with a blue -riband in her golden hair. The lovely roses of her complexion, -the sparkling eyes, the dimple in her cheeks, the -air of perfect content with herself, and with all the world, -disarmed what little vexation hung in her father’s mood.</p> - -<p>‘Do you think Bab will be home to-day?’ she asked, -seating herself at the tea-tray without a word of apology -for the lateness of her appearance.</p> - -<p>‘I do not know what her movements are.’</p> - -<p>‘I hope she will. I want her home.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, she must return, to relieve you of your duties.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure the animals want her home. The pigeons -find I am not regular in throwing them barley, and I -sometimes forget the bread-crumbs after a meal. The -little black heifer always runs along the paddock when -Bab goes by, and she is indifferent to me. She lows when -I appear, as much as to say, Where is Miss Barbara? -Then the cat has not been himself for some days, and the -little horse is in the dumps. Do you think brute beasts -have souls?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know.’ Then after a pause, ‘What was that -you said about a pixy?’</p> - -<p>‘O papa! it was a dream.’ She coloured. Something -rose in her heart to check her from confiding to him what -in her thoughtless freedom she was prepared to tell on first -awaking.</p> - -<p>He pressed her no further. He doubtless believed she -had spoken the truth. She had ever been candid. Now, -however, she lacked courage to speak. She remembered -that the boy had said ‘I come to you with a message.’ -He had disappeared without giving it. What was that -message? Was he gone without delivering it?</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan slowly ate his breakfast. Every now and -then he looked at his daughter, never steadily, for he could -look fixedly long at nothing.</p> - -<p>‘I will tell you all, papa,’ said Eve suddenly, shaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -her head, to shake off the temptation to be untrue. Her -better nature had prevailed. ‘It was not a dream, it was -a reality. I did see a pixy on the Raven Rock, the maddest, -merriest, ugliest imp in the world.’</p> - -<p>‘We are surrounded by an unseen creation,’ said Mr. -Jordan. ‘The microscope reveals to us teeming life in a -drop of water. Another generation will use an instrument -that will show them the air full of living things. Then the -laugh will be no more heard on earth. Life will be grave, -if not horrible. This generation is sadder than the last -because less ignorant.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa! He was not a pixy at all. I have seen him -before, when Mr. Jasper was thrown. Then he was -perched like an ape, as he is, on the cross you set up, -where my mother first appeared to you. He was making -screams with his fiddle.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan looked at her with flickering, frightened -eyes. ‘It was a spirit—the horse saw it and started—that -was how Jasper was thrown,’ he said gravely.</p> - -<p>‘Here Jasper comes,’ said Eve, laughing; ‘ask him.’ -But instead of waiting for her father to do this, she sprang -up, and danced to meet him with the simplicity of a child, -and clapping her palms, she asked, ‘Mr. Jasper! My -father will have it that my funny little pixy was a spirit of -the woods or wold, and will not believe that he is flesh -and blood.’</p> - -<p>‘My daughter,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘has told me a strange -story. She says that she saw a boy on the—the Raven -Rock, and that you know him.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I do.’</p> - -<p>‘Whence comes he?’</p> - -<p>‘That I cannot say.’</p> - -<p>‘Where does he live?’</p> - -<p>‘Nowhere.’</p> - -<p>‘Is he here still?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know.’</p> - -<p>‘Have you seen him before?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Yes—often.’</p> - -<p>‘That will do.’ Mr. Jordan jerked his head and -waved his hand, in sign that he did not wish Jasper to -remain.</p> - -<p>He treated Jasper with rudeness; he resented the loss -of Eve’s money, and being a man of narrow mind and vindictive -temper, he revenged the loss on the man who was -partly to blame for the loss. He brooded over his misfortune, -and was bitter. The sight of Jasper irritated -him, and he did not scruple at meals to make allusions to -the lost money which must hurt the young man’s feelings. -When Barbara was present, she interposed to turn the -conversation or blunt the significance of her father’s words. -Eve, on the other hand, when Mr. Jordan spoke in a way -she did not like to Jasper or Barbara, started up and left -the room, because she could not endure discords. She -sprang out of the way of harsh words as she turned from a -brier. It did not occur to her to save others, she saved -herself.</p> - -<p>Barbara thought of Jasper and her father, Eve only of -herself.</p> - -<p>When Jasper was gone, Mr. Jordan put his hand to -his head. ‘I do not understand, I cannot think,’ he said, -with a vacant look in his eyes. ‘You say one thing, and -he another.’</p> - -<p>‘Pardon me, dearest papa, we both say the same, -that the pixy was nothing but a real boy of flesh and -blood, but—there, let us think and talk of something -else.’</p> - -<p>‘Take care!’ said Mr. Jordan gloomily; ‘take care! -There are spirits where the wise see shadows; the eye of -the fool sees farther than the eye of the sage. My dear -Eve, beware of the Raven Rock.’</p> - -<p>Eve began to warble the air of the serenade in ‘Don -Giovanni’ which she had heard the boy Watt sing.</p> - -<p>Then she threw her arms round her father’s neck. -‘Do not look so miserable, papa. I am the happiest little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -being in the world, and I will kiss your cheeks till they -dimple with laughter.’ But instead of doing so, she -dashed away to pick flowers, for she thought, seeing herself -in the glass opposite, that a bunch of forget-me-not in -her bosom was what lacked to perfect her appearance in -the blue-sprigged muslin.</p> - -<p>She knew where wild forget-me-nots grew. The Abbot’s -Well sent its little silver rill through rich grass -towards the wood, where it spilled down the steep descent -to the Tamar. She knew that forget-me-not grew at the -border of the wood, just where the stream left the meadow -and the glare of the sun for its pleasant shadow. As she -approached the spot she saw the imp-like boy leap from -behind a tree.</p> - -<p>He held up his finger, put it to his lips, then beckoned -her to follow him. This she would not do. She halted -in the meadow, stooped, and, pretending not to see him, -picked some of the blue flowers she desired.</p> - -<p>He came stealthily towards her, and pointed to a stone -a few steps further, which was hidden from the house by -the slope of the hill. ‘I will tell you nothing unless you -come,’ he said.</p> - -<p>She hesitated a moment, looked round, and advanced -to the place indicated.</p> - -<p>‘I will go no farther with you,’ said she, putting her -hand on the rock. ‘I am afraid of you.’</p> - -<p>‘It matters not,’ answered the boy; ‘I can say what I -want here.’</p> - -<p>‘What is it? Be quick, I must go home.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, you little puss! Oh, you came out full of business! -I can tell you, you came for nothing but the chance -of hearing what I forgot to tell you yesterday. I must -give the message I was commissioned to bear before I can -leave.’</p> - -<p>‘Who from?’</p> - -<p>‘Can you ask? From Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘But who is Martin?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Sometimes he is one thing, then another; he is Don -Giovanni. Then he is a king. There—he is an actor. -Will that content you?’</p> - -<p>‘What is his surname?’</p> - -<p>‘O Eve! daughter of Eve!’ jeered the boy, ‘all inquisitiveness! -What does that matter? An actor takes -what name suits him.’</p> - -<p>‘What is his message? I must run home.’</p> - -<p>‘He stole something from you—wicked Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; a ring.’</p> - -<p>‘And you—you stole his heart away. Poor Martin -<i>has</i> had no peace of mind since he saw you. His conscience -has stung him like a viper. So he has sent me -back to you with the ring.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is it?’</p> - -<p>‘Shut your blue eyes, they dazzle me, and put out your -finger.’</p> - -<p>‘Give me the ring, please, and let me go.’</p> - -<p>‘Only on conditions—not my conditions—those of -Martin. He was very particular in his instructions to -me. Shut your eyes and extend your dear little finger. -Next swear never, never to part with the ring I put on -your finger.’</p> - -<p>‘That I never will. Mr. Martin had no right to take -the ring. It was impertinent of him; it made me very -angry. Once I get it back I will never let the ring go -again.’ She opened her eyes.</p> - -<p>‘Shut! shut!’ cried the boy: ‘and now swear.’</p> - -<p>‘I promise,’ said the girl. ‘That suffices.’</p> - -<p>‘There, then, take the ring.’ He thrust the circlet on -her finger. She opened her eyes again and looked at her -hand.</p> - -<p>‘Why, boy!’ she exclaimed, ‘this is not my ring. It -is another.’</p> - -<p>‘To be sure it is, you little fool. Do you think that -Martin would return the ring you gave him? No, no. -He sends you this in exchange for yours. It is prettier,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -Look at the blue flower on it, formed of turquoise. Forget-me-not.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot keep this. I want my own,’ said Eve, pouting, -and her eyes filling.</p> - -<p>‘You must abide Martin’s time. Meanwhile retain -this pledge.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot! I will not!’ she stamped her foot petulantly -on the oxalis and forget-me-not that grew beneath -the rock, tears of vexation brimming in her eyes. ‘You -have not dealt fairly by me. You have cheated me.’</p> - -<p>‘Listen to me, Miss Eve,’ said the boy in a coaxing tone. -‘You are a child, and have to be treated as such. Look at -the beautiful stones, observe the sweet blue flower. You -know what that means—Forget-me-not. Our poor Martin -has to ramble through the world with a heart-ache, yearning -for a pair of sparkling blue eyes, and for two wild -roses blooming in the sweetest cheeks the sun ever kissed, -and for a head of hair like a beech tree touched by frost in -a blazing autumn’s sun. Do you think he can forget these? -He carries that face of yours ever about with him, and now -he sends you this ring, and that means—”Miss, you have -made me very unhappy. I can never forget the little maid -with eyes of blue, and so I send her this token to bid her -forget me not, as I can never forget her.”’</p> - -<p>And as Eve stood musing with pouting lips, and troubled -brow, looking at the ring, the boy took his violin, and -with the fingers plucked the strings to make an accompaniment -as he sang:—</p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">A maiden stood beside a river,</p> -<p class="pp7">And with her pitcher seemed to play;</p> -<p class="pp6">Then sudden stooped and drew up water,</p> -<p class="pp7">But drew my heart as well away.</p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">And now I sigh beside the river,</p> -<p class="pp7">I dream about that maid I saw,</p> -<p class="pp6">I wait, I watch, am restless, weeping,</p> -<p class="pp7">Until she come again to draw.</p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">A flower is blooming by the river,</p> -<p class="pp7">A floweret with a petal blue,</p> -<p class="pp6">Forget me not, my love, my treasure!</p> -<p class="pp7">My flower and heart are both for you.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> - -<p class="p1">He played and sang a sweet, simple and plaintive air. -It touched Eve’s heart; always susceptible to music. Her -lips repeated after the boy, ‘My flower and heart are both -for you.’</p> - -<p>She could not make up her mind what to do. While -she hesitated, the opportunity of returning the ring was -gone. Watt had disappeared into the bushes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c121" id="c121">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">DISCOVERIES.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">A beautiful</span> summer evening. Eve from her window -saw Jasper in the garden; he was trimming the flower-beds -which had been neglected since Christopher Davy -had been ill. The men were busy on the farm, too busy to -be taken off for flower gardening. Barbara had said one -day that it was a pity the beds were not put to rights; and -now Jasper was attending to her wishes during her absence. -Mr. Jordan was out. He had gone forth with his hammer, -and there was no telling when he would return. Eve disliked -being alone. She must talk to someone. She -brushed her beautiful hair, looked in the glass, adjusted a -scarf round her shoulders, and in a coquettish way tripped -into the garden and began to pick the flowers, peeping at -Jasper out of the corners of her eyes, to see if he were -observing her. He, however, paid no attention to what -she was doing. In a fit of impatience, she flung the auriculas -and polyanthus she had picked on the path, and -threw herself pouting into the nearest garden seat.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper!’ she called; ‘are you so mightily busy -that you cannot afford me a word?’</p> - -<p>‘I am always and altogether at your service, dear Miss -Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘Why have you taken to gardening? Are you fond of -flowers?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I am devoted to flowers.’</p> - -<p>‘So am I. I pick them.’</p> - -<p>‘And throw them away,’ said Jasper, stooping and collecting -those she had strewn on the path.</p> - -<p>‘Well—I have not the patience to garden. I leave all -that to Barbara and old Christopher. I wish things generally, -gardens included, would go along without giving -trouble. I wish my sister were home.’</p> - -<p>‘To relieve you of all responsibility and trouble.’</p> - -<p>‘I hate trouble,’ said Eve frankly, ‘and responsibility -is like a burr in one’s clothes—detestable. There! you -are laughing at me, Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘I am not laughing, I am sighing.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, you are always sad.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not like to hear you talk in this manner. You -cannot expect to have your sister at your elbow throughout -life, to fan off all the flies that tease you.’</p> - -<p>‘If I have not Bab, I shall have someone else.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara might marry—and then——’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara marry!’ exclaimed Eve, and clapped her -hands. ‘The idea is too absurd. Who would marry her? -She is a dear, darling girl, but——’</p> - -<p>‘But what, missie?’</p> - -<p>‘I dare say I shall marry.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Eve! listen to me. It is most likely that you -will be married some day, but what then? You will have -a thousand more cares on your shoulders than you have -now, duties you will be forced to bear, troubles which will -encompass you on all sides.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you know,’ said Eve, with a twinkling face, and a -sly look in her eyes, ‘do you know, Mr. Jasper, I don’t -think I shall marry for ever so long. But I have a glorious -scheme in my head. As my money is gone, if anything -should happen to us, I should dearly like to go on the -stage. That would be simply splendid!’</p> - -<p>‘The young crows,’ said Jasper gravely, ‘live on the -dew of heaven, and then they are covered with a soft shining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -down. After a while the old birds bring them carrion, and -when they have tasted flesh, they no longer have any liking -for dew. Then the black feathers sprout, then only.’ He -raised his dark eyes to those of Eve, and said in a deep, -vibrating voice, ‘I would have this sweet fledgling sit still -in her beautiful Morwell nest, and drink only the sparkling -drops that fall into her mouth from the finger of God. I -cannot bear to think of her growing black feathers, and -hopping about—a carrion crow.’</p> - -<p>Eve fidgeted on her seat. She had thrust her pretty -feet before her, clad in white stockings and blue leather -slippers, one on the other; she crossed and recrossed them -impatiently.</p> - -<p>‘I do not like you to talk to me like this. I am tired of -living in the wilds where one sees nobody, and where I can -never go to theatre or concert or ball. I should—oh, I -should like to live in a town.’</p> - -<p>‘You are a child, Miss Eve, and think and talk like a -child. But the time is coming when you must put away -childish things, and face life seriously.’</p> - -<p>‘It is not wicked to want to go to a town. There is no -harm in dreaming that I am an actress. Oh!’ she exclaimed, -held up her hands, and laughed, ‘that would be -too delightful!’</p> - -<p>‘What has put this mad fancy into your head?’</p> - -<p>‘Two or three things. I will confide in you, dear Mr. -Jasper, if you can spare the time to listen. This morning -as I had nothing to do, and no one to talk to, I thought I -would search the garrets here. I have never been over -them, and they are extensive. Barbara has always dissuaded -me from going up there because they are so dusty -and hung with cobwebs. There is such a lot of rubbish -heaped up and packed away in the attics. I don’t believe -that Barbara knows what is there. I don’t fancy papa does. -Well! I went up to-day and found treasures.’</p> - -<p>‘Pray, what treasures?’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara is away, and there is no one to scold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -There are boxes there, and old chairs, all kinds of things, -some are so heavy I could hardly move them. I could not -get them back into their places again, if I were to try.’</p> - -<p>‘So you threw the entire garret into disorder?’</p> - -<p>‘Pretty well, but I will send up one of the men or -maids to tidy it before Barbara comes home. Behind -an old broken winnowing machine—fancy a winnowing -machine up there!—and under a pile of old pans and -bottomless crocks is a chest, to which I got with infinite -trouble, and not till I was very hot and dirty. I found it -was locked, but the rust had eaten through the hinges, or -the nails fastening them; and after working the lid about -awhile I was able to lift it. What do you suppose I found -inside?’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot guess.’</p> - -<p>‘No, I am sure you cannot. Wait—go on with your -gardening. I will bring you one of my treasures.’</p> - -<p>She darted into the house, and after a few minutes, -Jasper heard a tinkling as of brass. Then Eve danced out -to him, laughing and shaking a tambourine.</p> - -<p>‘I suppose it belonged to you or Miss Jordan when you -were children, and was stowed away under the mistaken -impression that you had outgrown toys.’</p> - -<p>‘No, Mr. Jasper, it never belonged to either Barbara -or me. I never had one. Barbara gave me everything of -her own I wanted. I could not have forgotten this. I -would have played with it till I had broken the parchment, -and shaken out all the little bells.’</p> - -<p>‘Give it to me. I will tighten the parchment, and -then you can drum on it with your fingers.’ He took the -instrument from her, and strained the cover. ‘Do you -know, Miss Eve, how to use a tambourine?’</p> - -<p>‘No. I shake it, and then all the little bells tingle.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, but you also tap the drum. You want music -as an accompaniment, and to that you dance with this toy.’</p> - -<p>‘How do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘I will show you how I have seen it played by Italian<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -and gipsy girls.’ He took the tambourine, and singing a -lively dance air, struck the drum and clinked the brasses. -He danced before Eve gravely, with graceful movements.</p> - -<p>‘That is it!’ cried Eve, with eyes that flashed with -delight, and with feet that itched to dance. ‘Oh, give -it me back. I understand thoroughly now, thank you, -thank you so heartily, dear Mr. Jasper. And now—I have -not done. Come up into the garret when I call.’</p> - -<p>‘What for? To help you to make more rummage, and -find more toys?’</p> - -<p>‘No! I want you to push the winnowing machine back, -and to make order in the litter I have created.’</p> - -<p>Jasper nodded good-humouredly.</p> - -<p>Then Eve, rattling her tambourine over her head, ran -in; and Jasper resumed his work at the flower-beds. -Barbara’s heliotrope, from which she so often wore a fragrant -flower, had not been planted many weeks. It was -straggling, and needed pinning down. Her seedling asters -had not been pricked out in a bed, and they were crowding -each other in their box. He took them out and divided -their interlaced roots.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper!’ A little face was peeping out of the -small window in the gable that lighted the attic. He -looked up, waved his hand, and laid down the young asters -with a sigh, but covered their roots with earth before leaving -them.</p> - -<p>Then he washed his hands at the Abbot’s Well, and -slowly ascended the stair to the attic. It was a newel -stone flight, very narrow, in the thickness of the wall.</p> - -<p>When he reached the top he threw up a trap in the -floor, and pushed his head through.</p> - -<p>Then, indeed, he was surprised. The inconsiderate -Eve had taken some candle ends and stuck them on the -binding beam of the roof, and lighted them. They cast a -yellow radiance through the vast space, without illumining -its recesses. All was indistinct save within the radius -of a few feet around the candles. In the far-off blackness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -was one silvery grey square of light—the little gable window. -On the floor the rafter cast its shadow as a bar of -ink.</p> - -<p>Jasper was not surprised at the illumination, though -vexed at the careless manner in which Eve had created it. -What surprised him was the appearance of the young girl. -She was transfigured. She was dressed in a saffron-yellow -skirt with a crimson lattice of ribbon over it, fastened -with bows, and covered with spangles. She wore a -crimson velvet bodice, glittering with gold lace and bullion -thread embroidery. But her eyes sparkled brighter than -the tarnished spangles.</p> - -<p>The moment Jasper’s head appeared through the trap -in the floor, she struck the timbrel, and clattered the -jingles, and danced and laughed. Then seeing how -amazed he was she skipped coquettishly towards him, -rattled her drum in his ear, and danced back again under -her row of candles. She had caught the very air he had -sung recently, when showing her how to manage the instrument. -She had heard it that once, but she had seized -the melody, and she sang it, and varied it after her own -caprice, but without losing the leading thread, and always -coming back to the burden with a similar set gesture of -arms and feet, and stroke of drum and clash of bells. -Then, all at once, one of the candles fell over on the rafter -and dropped to the floor. Eve brought her tambourine -down with a crash and jangle; Jasper sprang forward, -and extinguished the candle with his foot.</p> - -<p>‘There! Is not this witchcraft?’ exclaimed Eve. -‘Go down through the trap again, Mr. Jasper, and I will -rejoin you. Not a word to papa, or to Barbie when she -returns.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not go till the candles are put out and the risk -of a fire is past. You can see by the window to take off -this trumpery.’</p> - -<p>‘Trumpery! Oh, Mr. Jasper! Trumpery!’ she exclaimed -in an injured, disappointed tone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Call it what you will. Where did you find it?’</p> - -<p>‘In yonder box. There is more in it. Do go now, -Mr. Jasper; I will put out the candles, I will, honour -bright.’</p> - -<p>The bailiff descended, and resumed his work with the -asters. He smiled and yet was vexed at Eve’s giddiness. -It was impossible to be angry with her, she was but a -child. It was hard not to look with apprehension to her -future.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he stood up, and listened. He heard the -clatter of horse’s hoofs in the lane. Who could be coming? -The evening had closed in. The sun was set. It was not -dark so near midsummer, but dusk. He went hastily from -the garden into the lane, and saw the young groom urging -on his fagged horse, and leading another by the bridle, -with a lady’s saddle on it.</p> - -<p>‘Where is your mistress? Is anything the matter?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing,’ answered the lad. ‘She is behind. In -taking off her glove she lost her ring, and now I must get -a lantern to look for it.’</p> - -<p>‘Nelly,’ that was the horse, ‘is tired. I will get a -light and run back. Whereabouts is she?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, not a thousand yards from the edge of the moor. -The doctor rode with us part of the way from Tavistock. -After he left, Miss Barbara took off her glove and lost her -ring. She won’t leave the spot till it be found.’</p> - -<p>‘Go in. I will take the light to her. Tell the cook -to prepare supper. Miss Jordan must be tired and -hungry.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c127" id="c127">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BARBARA’S RING.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> quickly got the lantern out of the stable, and -lighted the candle in the kitchen. Then he ran with it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -along the rough, stone-strewn lane, between walls of moorstone, -till he came to the moor. He followed the track -rather than road which traversed it. With evening, clouds -had gathered and much obscured the light. Nevertheless -the north was full of fine silvery haze, against which stood -up the curious conical hill of Brent Tor, crowned with its -little church.</p> - -<p>When suddenly Jasper came up to Miss Jordan, he -took her unawares. She was stooping, searching the -ground, and, in her dark-green riding habit, he had mistaken -her for a gorse bush. When he arrived with the -lantern she arose abruptly, and on recognising the young -man the riding-whip dropped from her hand.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper!’ she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara!’</p> - -<p>They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. -One of her white hands was gloveless.</p> - -<p>‘What has brought you here?’ asked Barbara, stooping -and picking up her whip with one hand, and gathering -her habit with the other.</p> - -<p>‘I heard that you had lost something.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; I was thoughtless. I was warm, and I hastily -whisked off my glove that I might pass my hand over my -brow, and I felt as I plucked the glove away that my aunt’s -ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was so foolish, so -unnerved, that I let drop the glove—and now can find -neither. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot -find that. So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I -supposed he would return with it.’</p> - -<p>‘I took the liberty of coming myself, he is a boy and -tired with his long journey; besides, the horses have to be -attended to. I hope you are not displeased.’</p> - -<p>‘On the contrary,’ she replied, in her frank, kindly -tone, ‘I am glad to see you. When one has been from -home a long distance, it is pleasant to meet a messenger -from home to say how all are.’</p> - -<p>‘And it is pleasant for the messenger to bring good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -tidings. Mr. Jordan is well; Miss Eve happy as a butterfly -in summer over a clover field.’</p> - -<p>If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her -head aside, Jasper would have seen a change in her face. -She suddenly bowed herself and recommenced her search.</p> - -<p>‘I am very, very sorry,’ she said, in a low tone, ‘I am -not able to be a pleasant messenger to you. I am——’ -she half raised herself, her voice was full of sympathy. ‘I -am more sorry than I can say.’</p> - -<p>He made no reply; he had not, perhaps, expected -much. He threw the light of the lantern along the ground, -and began to search for the glove.</p> - -<p>‘You are carrying something,’ he said; ‘let me relieve -you, Miss Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘It is—your violin.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara! how kind, how good! You have -carried it all the way?’</p> - -<p>‘Not at all. Johnny Ostler had it most part. Then -Mr. Coyshe carried it. The boy <i>could</i> not take it at the -same time that he led my horse; you understand that?’ -Her voice became cold, her pride was touched; she did not -choose that he should know the truth.</p> - -<p>‘But you thought of bringing it.’</p> - -<p>‘Not at all. Your father insisted on its being taken -from his house. The boy has the rest of your things, as -many as could be carried.’</p> - -<p>Nothing further was said. They searched together for -the glove. They were forced to search closely together because -the lantern cast but a poor light round. Where the -glare did fall, there the tiny white clover leaves, fine moor -grass, small delicately-shaped flowers of the milkwort, -white and blue, seemed a newly-discovered little world of -loveliness. But Barbara had other matters to consider, -and scarcely noticed the beauty. She was not susceptible -as Eve to the beautiful and picturesque. She was looking -for her glove, but her thoughts were not wholly concerned -with the glove and ring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper, I saw your father.’ She spoke in a low -voice, their heads were not far asunder. ‘I told him where -you were.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara, did he say anything to you about me? -Did he say anything about the—the loss of the money?’</p> - -<p>‘He refused to hear about you. He would hardly -listen to a word I said.’</p> - -<p>‘Did he tell you who took the money?’</p> - -<p>‘No.’ She paused. ‘Why should he? I know—it -was you——’</p> - -<p>Jasper sighed.</p> - -<p>‘I can see,’ pursued Barbara, ‘that you were hard -tried. I know that you had no happy home, that you had -no mother, and that your father may have been harsh and -exacting, but—but—’ her voice shook. ‘Excuse me, I am -tired, and anxious about my ring. It is a sapphire surrounded -with diamonds. I cannot speak much. I ought -not to have put the ring on my finger till the hoop had -been reduced. It was a very pretty ring.’</p> - -<p>Then the search was continued in silence, without -result.</p> - -<p>‘Excuse me,’ she said, after a while, ‘I may seem engrossed -in my loss and regardless of your disappointment. -I expected that your father would have been eager to forgive -you. The father of the prodigal in the Gospel ran to -meet his repentant son. I am sure—I am sure you are repentant.’</p> - -<p>‘I will do all in my power to redress the wrong that -has been done,’ said Jasper calmly.</p> - -<p>‘I entreated Mr. Babb to be generous, to relax his -severity, and to send you his blessing. But I could not win -a word of kindness for you, Mr. Jasper, not a word of hope -and love!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Miss Jordan, how good and kind you are!’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said in a soft tremulous voice, ‘I -would take the journey readily over again. I would ride -back at once, and alone over the moor, if I thought that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -would win the word for you. I believe, I trust, you are repentant, -and I would do all in my power to strengthen -your good resolution, and save your soul.’</p> - -<p>Then she touched a gorse bush and made her hand -smart with the prickles. She put the ungloved hand within -the radius of the light, and tried to see and remove the -spines.</p> - -<p>‘Never mind,’ she said, forcing a laugh. ‘The ring, -not the prickles, is of importance now. If I do not find -it to-night, I shall send out all the men to-morrow, and -promise a reward to quicken their interest and sharpen -their eyes.’</p> - -<p>She put her fingers where most wounded to her lips. -Then, thinking that she had said too much, shown too great -a willingness to help Jasper, she exclaimed, ‘Our holy religion -requires us to do our utmost for the penitent. There -is joy in heaven over one sinner that is contrite.’</p> - -<p>‘I have found your glove,’ exclaimed Jasper joyously. -He rose and held up a dog-skin riding-glove with -gauntlet.</p> - -<p>‘Feel inside if the ring be there,’ said Barbara. ‘I -cannot do so myself, one hand is engaged with my whip -and skirt.’</p> - -<p>‘I can feel it—the hoop—through the leather.’</p> - -<p>‘I am so glad, so much obliged to you, Mr. Jasper.’ -She held out her white hand with the ring-finger extended. -‘Please put it in place, and I will close my fist till I reach -home.’</p> - -<p>She made the request without thought, considering -only that she had her whip and gathered habit in her -right, gloved hand.</p> - -<p>Jasper opened the lantern and raised it. The diamonds -sparkled. ‘Yes, that is my ring,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>He set the lantern on a stone, a slab of white felspar -that lay on the grass. Then he lightly held her hand with -his left, and with the right placed the ring on her finger.</p> - -<p>But the moment it was in place and his fingers held it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -there, a shock of terror and shame went to Barbara’s -heart. What inconsiderateness had she been guilty of! -The reflection of the light from the white felspar was -in their faces. In a moment, unable to control herself, -Barbara burst into tears. Jasper stooped and kissed the -fingers he held.</p> - -<p>She started back, snatched her hand from him, clenched -her fist, and struck her breast with it. ‘How dare you! -You—you—the escaped convict! Go on; I will follow. -You have insulted me.’</p> - -<p>He obeyed. But as he walked back to Morwell ahead -of her, he was not cast down. Eve, in the garret, had -that day opened a coffer and made a discovery. He, too, -on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a fast-closed -heart, had looked in, and made a discovery.</p> - -<p>When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her -room, where she threw herself on her bed, and beat and -beat again, with her fists, her head and breast, and said, -‘I hate—I hate and despise myself! I hate—oh, how I -hate myself!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c132" id="c132">CHAPTER XX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">PERPLEXITY.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> was roused early next morning by Eve; Eve had -overslept herself when she ought to be up; she woke and -rose early when another hour of rest would have been a -boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied adjoining -rooms that communicated, and the door was always open -between them. When Eve was awake she would not suffer -her sister to sleep on. She stooped over her and kissed -her closed eyes till she woke. Eve had thrown open the -window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl -was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara’s -bed with her lovely hair dishevelled about her head, ing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -a halo of red-gold glory to her face. That face was -lovely with its delicate roses of health and happiness, and -the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her neck -was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Barbara’s -head and shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, -sleep-stupefied girl awoke.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot sleep this lovely morning,’ said Eve; then, -with true feminine <i>non-sequitur</i>; ‘So you must get up, -Barbie.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Eve, is it time?’ Barbara sat up in bed instantly -wide awake. Her sister seated herself on the side of the -bed and laid her hand in her lap.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ exclaimed Barbara suddenly, ‘what have you -there—on your finger? Who gave you that?’</p> - -<p>‘It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not -of turquoise set in a circlet of gold?’</p> - -<p>‘Who gave it you, Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘A pixy gift!’ laughed the girl carelessly.</p> - -<p>‘This will not do. You must answer me. Where did -you get it?’</p> - -<p>‘I found it, Barbie.’</p> - -<p>‘Found it—where?’</p> - -<p>‘Where are forget-me-nots usually found?’ Then -hastily, before her sister could speak, ‘But what a lovely -ring you have got on your pincushion, Bab! Mine cannot -compare with it. Is that the ring I heard the maids say -you lost?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, dear.’</p> - -<p>‘How did you recover it? Who found it for you?’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper.’</p> - -<p>Eve turned her ring on her finger.</p> - -<p>‘My darling,’ said Barbara, ‘you have not been candid -with me about that ring. Did Dr. Coyshe give it to -you?’</p> - -<p>‘Dr. Coyshe! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think -of me as aspiring to be Mrs. Squash!’</p> - -<p>‘When did you get the ring?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Yesterday.’</p> - -<p>‘Who gave it to you? You must tell me.’</p> - -<p>‘I have already told you—I found it by the wood, as -truly as you found yours on the down.’</p> - -<p>Suddenly Barbara started, and her heart beat fast.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!—where is the ribbon and your mother’s ring? -You used to have that ring always in your bosom. Where -is it? Have you parted with that?’</p> - -<p>Eve’s colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, darling!’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘answer me truly. -To whom have you given that ring?’</p> - -<p>‘I have not given it; I have lost it. You must not be -angry with me, Bab. You lost yours.’ Eve’s eyes sank -as she spoke, and her voice faltered.</p> - -<p>The elder sister did not speak for a moment; she looked -hard at Eve, who stood up and remained before her in a -pretty penitential attitude, but unable to meet her eye.</p> - -<p>Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met? -There was no one, absolutely no one she could think of, if -Mr. Coyshe were set aside, but Jasper. Now Barbara had -disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after Jasper before -she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, -but she knew that her remonstrances carried small weight. -Eve was a natural coquette. She loved to be praised, -admired, made much of. The life at Morwell was dull, -and Eve sought society of any sort where she could chatter -and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve -had not made any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Barbara -had not thought there was anything serious in the -liking. It was a child’s fancy. But then, she considered, -would any man’s heart be able to withstand the pretty -wiles of Eve? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily -associated with this fairy creature and not love her?</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘it is of no use trying -concealment with me. I know who gave you the ring. I -know more than you suppose.’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper has been telling tales,’ exclaimed Eve.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara winced but did not speak.</p> - -<p>Eve supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about -the meeting with Watt on the Raven Rock.</p> - -<p>‘Are you going to sleep again?’ asked Eve, as Barbara -had cast herself back on her pillow with the face in it. -The elder sister shook her head and made a sign with her -hand to be left alone.</p> - -<p>When Barbara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe -out of her own room into that of her sister. She was -uneasy at Barbara’s silence; she thought her sister was -hurt and offended with her. So she stepped behind her, -put her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before the -mirror, and her head over her sister’s shoulder, partly that -she might kiss her cheek, partly also that she might see -her own face in the glass and contrast it with that of Barbara. -‘You are not cross with me?’ she said coaxingly.</p> - -<p>‘No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.’ She turned -and kissed her passionately. ‘Darling! you must give back -the little ring and recover that of your mother.’</p> - -<p>‘It is impossible,’ answered Eve.</p> - -<p>‘Then I must do what I can for you,’ said Barbara. -Barbara was resolved what to do. She would speak to her -father, if necessary; but before that she must have a word -on the matter with Jasper. It was impossible to tolerate -an attachment and secret engagement between him and -her sister.</p> - -<p>She sought an opportunity of speaking privately to the -young man, and easily found one. But when they were -together alone, she discovered that it was not easy to -approach the topic that was uppermost in her mind.</p> - -<p>‘I was very tired last night, Mr. Jasper,’ she said, -‘over-tired, and I am hardly myself this morning. The -loss of my aunt, the funeral, the dividing of her poor little -treasures, and then the lengthy ride, upset me. It was very -ridiculous of me last night to cry, but a girl takes refuge in -tears when overspent, it relieves and even refreshes her.’</p> - -<p>Then she hesitated and looked down. But Barbara had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -a strong will, and when she had made up her mind to do -what she believed to be right, allowed no weakness to interfere -with the execution.</p> - -<p>‘And now I want to speak about something else. I -must beg you will not encourage Eve. She is a child, -thoughtless and foolish.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; she should be kept more strictly guarded. I -do not encourage her. I regret her giddiness, and give -her good advice, which she casts to the winds. Excuse -my saying it, but you and Mr. Jordan are spoiling the -child.’</p> - -<p>‘My father and I spoil Eve! That is not possible.’</p> - -<p>‘You think so; I do not. The event will prove which -is right, Miss Jordan.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was annoyed. What right had Jasper to dictate -how Eve was to be treated?</p> - -<p>‘That ring,’ began Barbara, and halted.</p> - -<p>‘It is not lost again, surely!’ said Jasper.</p> - -<p>Barbara frowned. ‘I am not alluding to my ring -which you found along with my glove, but to that which -you gave to Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘I gave her no ring; I do not understand you.’</p> - -<p>‘It is a pretty little thing, and a toy. Of course you -only gave it her as such, but it was unwise.’</p> - -<p>‘I repeat, I gave her no ring, Miss Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘She says that she found it, but it is most improbable.’</p> - -<p>Jasper laughed, not cheerfully; there was always a -sadness in his laughter. ‘You have made a great mistake, -Miss Jordan. It is true that your sister found the ring. -That is, I conclude she did, as yesterday she found a chest -in the garret full of old masquerading rubbish, and a tambourine, -and I know not what besides.’</p> - -<p>A load was taken off Barbara’s mind. So Eve had not -deceived her.</p> - -<p>‘She showed me a number of her treasures,’ said Jasper. -‘No doubt whatever that she found the ring along with the -other trumpery.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara’s face cleared. She drew a long breath. -‘Why did not Eve tell me all?’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘Because,’ answered the young man, ‘she was afraid -you would be angry with her for getting the old tawdry -stuff out of the box, and she asked me not to tell you -of it. Now I have betrayed her confidence, I must -leave to you, Miss Jordan, to make my peace with Miss -Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘She has also lost something that hung round her -throat.’</p> - -<p>‘Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in the -garret, moving boxes and hampers. It is lying somewhere -on the floor. If you wish it I will search for her ornament, -and hope my success will be equal to that of last night.’ -He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on it. -She observed his glance and said coldly, ‘My ring does -not fit me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I -find some young lady friend to whom I must make a wedding -present.’ Then she turned away. She walked across -the Abbot’s Meadow, through which the path led to the -rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direction. -Before long she encountered her sister returning -with a large bunch of foxgloves in her hand.</p> - -<p>‘Do look, Bab!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘is not this a splendid -sceptre? A wild white foxglove with thirty-seven bells -on it.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ said Barbara, her honest face alight with pleasure; -‘my dearest, I was wrong to doubt you. I know -now where you found the ring, and I am not in the least -cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.’</p> - -<p>‘I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the -foxglove than <i>flop-a-dock</i>,’ said Eve.</p> - -<p>‘My dear,’ said Barbara, ‘you shall show me the pretty -things you have found in the attic.’</p> - -<p>‘What—Bab?’</p> - -<p>‘I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.’</p> - -<p>‘What has he told you?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘He has told me where you found the turquoise ring, -together with a number of fancy ball dresses.’</p> - -<p>Eve was silent. A struggle went on in her innocent -heart. She hated falsehood. It pained her to deceive her -sister, who had such perfect faith in her. She felt inclined -to tell her all, yet she dared not do so. In her heart -she longed to hear more of Martin. She remembered -his handsome face, his flattering and tender words, -the romance of that night. No! she could not tell -Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘We will go together into the garret,’ said Barbara, -‘and search for your mother’s ring. It will easily be found -by the blue ribbon to which it is attached.’</p> - -<p>Then Eve laughed, held her sister at arms’ length, -thrusting the great bunch of purple and white foxgloves -against her shoulder, so that their tall heads nodded by -her cheek and ear. ‘No, Bab, sweet, I did not find the -ring in the chest with the gay dresses. I did not lose the -ring of my mother’s in the loft. I tell you the truth, but -I tell you no more.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Eve!’ Barbara’s colour faded. ‘Who was it? I -implore you, if you love me, tell me.’</p> - -<p>‘I love you dearly, but no.’ She curtsied. ‘Find -out if you can.’ Then she tripped away, waving her -foxgloves.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c138" id="c138">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE SCYTHE OF TIME.</p> - -<p class="pn">‘<span class="smcap">My</span> papa! my darling papa!’ Eve burst into her father’s -room. ‘I want you much to do something for me. Mr. -Jasper is so kind. He has promised to have a game of -bowls with me this evening on the lawn, and the grass is -not mown.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, dear, get it mown,’ said Mr. Jordan dreamily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘But there is no man about, and old Davy is in bed. -What am I to do?’</p> - -<p>‘Wait till to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot; I shall die of impatience. I have set my -heart on a game of bowls. Do you not see, papa, that the -weather may change in the night and spoil play for to-morrow?’</p> - -<p>‘Then what do you wish?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! my dear papa,’ Eve nestled into his arms, ‘I -don’t want much, only that you would cut the grass for -me. It really will not take you ten minutes. I will -promise to sweep up what is cut.’</p> - -<p>‘I am engaged, Eve, on a very delicate test.’</p> - -<p>‘So am I, papa.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Ignatius Jordan looked up at her with dull surprise -in his eyes.</p> - -<p>‘I mean, papa, that if you really love me you will -jump up and mow the grass. If you don’t love me you -will go on muddling with those minerals and chemicals.’</p> - -<p>The gaunt old man stood up. Eve knew her power -over him. She could make him obey her slightest caprice. -She ran before him to the gardener’s tool-house and -brought him the scythe.</p> - -<p>In the quadrangle was a grass plat, and on this Eve -had decided to play her game.</p> - -<p>‘All the balls are here except the Jack,’ said she. ‘I -shall have to rummage everywhere for the black-a-moor; -I can’t think where he can be.’ Then she ran into the -house in quest of the missing ball.</p> - -<p>The grass had been left to grow all spring and had not -been cut at all, so that it was rank. Mr. Jordan did not -well know how to wield a scythe. He tried and met with -so little success that he suspected the blade was blunt. -Accordingly he went to the tool-house for the hone, and, -standing the scythe up with the handle on the swath, -tried to sharpen the blade.</p> - -<p>The grass was of the worst possible quality. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -quadrangle was much in shadow. The plots were so -exhausted that little grew except daisy and buttercup. -Jasper had already told Barbara to have the wood-ashes -thrown on the plots, and had promised to see that they -were limed in winter. Whilst Mr. Jordan was honing -the scythe slowly and clumsily Barbara came to him. She -was surprised to see him thus engaged. Lean, haggard, -with deep-sunken eyes, and hollow cheeks, he lacked but -the hour-glass to make him stand as the personification of -Time. He was in an ill-humour at having been disturbed -and set to an uncongenial task, though his ill-humour was -not directed towards Eve. Barbara was always puzzled -by her father. That he suffered, she saw, but she could -not make out of what and where he suffered, and he resented -inquiry. There were times when his usually dazed -look was exchanged for one of keenness, when his eyes -glittered with a feverish anxiety, and he seemed to be -watching and expecting with eye and ear something or -some person that never came. At table he was without -conversation; he sat morose, lost in his own thoughts till -roused by an observation addressed to him. His temper -was uncertain. Often, as he observed nothing, he took -offence at nothing; but occasionally small matters roused -and unreasonably irritated him. An uneasy apprehension -in Barbara’s mind would not be set at rest. She feared -that her father’s brain was disturbed, and that at any time, -without warning, he might break out into some wild, unreasonable, -possibly dreadful, act, proclaiming to everyone -that what she dreaded in secret had come to pass—total -derangement. Of late his humour had been especially -changeful, but his eldest daughter sought to convince herself -that this could be accounted for by distress at the loss -of Eve’s dowry.</p> - -<p>Barbara asked her father why he was mowing the grass -plot, and when he told her that Eve had asked him to do -so that she might play bowls that evening on it, she remonstrated, -‘Whom is she to play with?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Jasper Babb has promised her a game. I suppose -you and I will be dragged out to make up a party.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa, there is no necessity for your mowing! You -do not understand a scythe. Now you are honing the -wrong way, blunting, not sharpening, the blade.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course I am wrong. I never do right in your eyes.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear father,’ said Barbara, hurt at the injustice of -the remark, ‘that is not true.’</p> - -<p>‘Then why are you always watching me? I cannot -walk in the garden, I cannot go out of the door, I cannot -eat a meal, but your eyes are on me. Is there anything -very frightful about me? Anything very extraordinary? -No—it is not that. I can read the thoughts in your head. -You are finding fault with me. I am not doing useful -work. I am wasting valuable hours over empty pursuits. -I am eating what disagrees with me, too much, or too -little. Understand this, once for all. I hate to be -watched. Here is a case in point, a proof if one were -needed. I came out here to cut this grass, and at once -you are after me. You have spied my proceedings. I -must not do this. If I sharpen the scythe I am all in the -wrong, blunting the blade.’</p> - -<p>The tears filled Barbara’s eyes.</p> - -<p>‘I am told nothing,’ continued Mr. Jordan. ‘Everything -I ought to know is kept concealed from me, and you -whisper about me behind my back to Jasper and Mr. -Coyshe.’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, indeed, dear papa——’</p> - -<p>‘It is true. I have seen you talking to Jasper, and I -know it was about me. What were you trying to worm -out of him about me? And so with the doctor. You -rode with him all the way from Tavistock to the Down the -other day; my left ear was burning that afternoon. What -did it burn for? Because I was being discussed. I object -to being made the topic of discussion. Then, when you -parted with the doctor, Jasper Babb ran out to meet you, -that you might learn from him how I had behaved, what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -had done, whilst you were away. I have no rest in my -own house because of your prying eyes. Will you go now, -and leave me.’</p> - -<p>‘I will go now, certainly,’ said Barbara, with a gulp in -her throat, and swimming eyes.</p> - -<p>‘Stay!’ he said, as she turned. He stood leaning his -elbow on the head of the scythe, balancing it awkwardly. -‘I was told nothing of your visit to Buckfastleigh. You told -Eve, and you told Jasper—but I who am most concerned -only heard about it by a side-wind. You brought Jasper -his fiddle, and when I asked how he had got it, Eve told -me. You visited his father. Well! am I nobody that I -am to be kept in the dark?’</p> - -<p>‘I have nothing of importance to tell,’ said Barbara. -‘It is true I saw Mr. Babb, but he would not let me inside -his house.’</p> - -<p>‘Tell me, what did that man say about the money?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not think there is any chance of his paying unless -he be compelled. He has satisfied his conscience. He -put the money away for you, and as it did not reach you -the loss is yours, and you must bear it.’</p> - -<p>‘But good heavens! that is no excuse at all. The base -hypocrite! He is a worse thief than the man who stole -the money. He should sell the fields he bought with my -loan.’</p> - -<p>‘They were fields useful to him for the stretching of -the cloth he wove in his factory.’</p> - -<p>‘Are you trying to justify him for withholding payment?’ -asked Mr. Jordan. ‘He is a hypocrite. What -was he to cry out against the strange blood, and to curse -it?—he, Ezekiel Babb, in whose veins ran fraud and -guile?’</p> - -<p>Barbara looked wonderingly at him through the veil of -tears that obscured her sight. What did he mean?</p> - -<p>‘He is an old man, papa, but hard as iron. He has -white hair, but none of the reverence which clings to age -attaches to him.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘White hair!’ Mr. Jordan turned the scythe, and -with the point aimed at, missed, aimed at again, and cut -down a white-seeded dandelion in the grass. ‘That is -white, but the neck is soft, even if the head be hard,’ said -Mr. Jordan, pointing to the dandelion. ‘I wish that were -his head, and I had cut through his neck. But then——’ -he seemed to fall into a bewildered state—’the blood should -run red—run, run, dribble over the edge, red. This is -milky, but acrid.’ He recovered himself. ‘I have only -cut down a head of dandelion.’ He reversed the scythe -again, and stood leaning his arm on the back of the blade, -and staying the handle against his knee.</p> - -<p>‘My dear father, had you not better put the scythe -away?’</p> - -<p>‘Why should I do that? I have done no harm with it. -No one can set on me for what I have cut with it—only a -white old head of dandelion with a soft neck. Think—if -it had been Ezekiel Babb’s head sticking out of the grass, -with the white hair about it, and the sloe-black wicked -eyes, and with one cut of the scythe—swish, it had tumbled -over, with the stalk upwards, bleeding, bleeding, and the -eyes were in the grass, and winking because the daisies -teased them and made them water.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was distressed. She must change the current -of his thoughts. To do this she caught at the first thing -that came into her head.</p> - -<p>‘Papa! I will tell you what Mr. Coyshe was talking -to me about. It is quite right, as you say, that you -should know all; it is proper that nothing should be kept -from you.’</p> - -<p>‘It is hardly big enough,’ said Mr. Jordan.</p> - -<p>‘What, papa?’</p> - -<p>‘The dandelion. I can’t feel towards it as if it were -Mr. Babb’s head.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ said Barbara, speaking rapidly, and eager to -divert his mind into another channel, ‘papa dear, do you -know that the doctor is much attached to our pet?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘It could not be otherwise. Everyone loves Eve; if -they do not, they deserve to die.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa! He told me as much as that. He admires -her greatly, and would dearly like to propose for her, but, -though I do not suppose he is bashful, he is not quite sure -that she cares for him.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve shall have whom she will. If she does not like -Coyshe, she shall have anyone else.’</p> - -<p>Then he hinted that, though he had no doubt he -would make himself a great name in his profession, and in -time be very wealthy, that yet he could not afford as he is -now circumstanced to marry a wife without means.</p> - -<p>‘There! there!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan, becoming -again excited. ‘See how the wrong done by Ezekiel Babb -is beginning to work. There is a future, a fine future -offering for my child, but she cannot accept it. The gate -is open, but she may not pass through, because she has -not the toll-money in her hand.’</p> - -<p>‘Are you sure, papa, that Mr. Coyshe would make Eve -happy?’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure of it. What is this place for her? She -should be in the world, be seen and received, and shine. -Here she is like one hidden in a nook. She must be -brought out, she must be admired by all.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not think Eve cares for him.’</p> - -<p>But her father did not hear her; he went on, and as -he spoke his eyes flashed, and spots of dark red colour -flared on his cheek-bones. ‘There is no chance for poor -Eve! The money is gone past recovery. Her future is -for ever blighted. I call on heaven to redress the wrong. -I went the other day to Plymouth to hear Mass, and I had -but one prayer on my lips, Avenge me on my enemy! -When the choir sang “<i>Gloria in Excelsis, Deo</i>,” I heard -my heart sing a bass, “On earth a curse on the man of ill-will.” -When they sang the Hosanna! I muttered, Cursed -is he that cometh to defraud the motherless! I could not -hear the Benedictus. My heart roared out “<i>Imprecatus!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -Imprecatus sit!</i>” I can pray nothing else. All my -prayers turn sour in my throat, and I taste them like gall -on my tongue.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa! this is horrible!’</p> - -<p>Now he rested both his elbows on the back of the blade -and raised his hands, trembling with passion, as if in -prayer. His long thin hair, instead of hanging lank about -his head, seemed to bristle with electric excitement, his -cheeks and lips quivered. Barbara had never seen him so -greatly moved as now, and she did not know what to do to -pacify him. She feared lest any intervention might exasperate -him further.</p> - -<p>‘I pray,’ he began, in a low, vibrating monotone, ‘I -pray to the God of justice, who protecteth the orphan and -the oppressed, that He may cause the man that sinned to -suffer; that He will whet his gleaming sword, and smite -and not spare—smite and not spare the guilty.’ His voice -rose in tone and increased in volume. Barbara looked -round, in hopes of seeing Eve, trusting that the sight of -her might soothe her father, and yet afraid of her sister -seeing him in this condition.</p> - -<p>‘There was a time, seventeen years ago,’ continued -Mr. Jordan, not noticing Barbara, looking before him as -if he saw something far beyond the boundary walls of the -house, ‘there was a time when he lifted up his hand and -voice to curse my child. I saw the black cross, and the -shadow of Eve against it, and he with his cruel black -hands held her there, nailed her with his black fingers to -the black cross. And now I lift my soul and my hands to -God against him. I cry to Heaven to avenge the innocent. -Raise Thy arm and Thy glittering blade, O Lord, and -smite!’</p> - -<p>Suddenly the scythe slipped from under his elbows. -He uttered a sharp cry, staggered back and fell.</p> - -<p>As he lay on the turf, Barbara saw a dark red stain -ooze from his right side, and spread as ink on blotting-paper. -The point of the scythe had entered his side. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -put his hand to the wound, and then looked at his palm. -His face turned livid. At that moment, just as Barbara -sprang to her father, having recovered from the momentary -paralysis of terror, Eve bounded from the hall-door, -holding a ball over her head in both her hands, and shouting -joyously, ‘I have the Jack! I have the Jack!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c146" id="c146">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE RED STREAK.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> was not a girl to allow precious moments to be -lost; instead of giving way to emotion and exclamations, -she knelt and tore off her father’s waistcoat, ripped his -shirt, and found a gash under the rib; tearing off her -kerchief she ran, sopped it in cold water, and held it -tightly to the wound.</p> - -<p>‘Run, Eve, run, summon help!’ she cried. But Eve -was powerless to be of assistance; she had turned white -to the lips, had staggered back to the door, and sent the -Jack rolling over the turf to her father’s feet.</p> - -<p>‘I am faint,’ gasped poor Eve. ‘I cannot see blood.’</p> - -<p>‘You must,’ exclaimed Barbara, ‘command yourself. -Ring the alarm bell: Jasper—someone—will hear.’</p> - -<p>‘The power is gone from my arms,’ sobbed Eve, -shivering.</p> - -<p>‘Call one of the maids. Bid her ring,’ ordered the -elder.</p> - -<p>Eve, holding the sides of the door to prevent herself -from falling, deadly white, with knees that yielded under -her, staggered into the house.</p> - -<p>Presently the old bell hung in a pent-house over the -roof of the chapel began to give tongue.</p> - -<p>Barbara, kneeling behind her father, raised his head -on her bosom, and held her kerchief to his side. The -first token of returning consciousness was given by his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -hands, which clutched at some grass he had cut. Then -he opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>‘Why is the bell tolling?’</p> - -<p>‘Dear papa! it is calling for help. Yon must be -moved. You are badly hurt.’</p> - -<p>‘I feel it. In my side. How was it? I do not remember. -Ah! the scythe. Has the blade cut deep?’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot tell, papa, till the doctor comes. Are you -easier now?’</p> - -<p>‘You did it. Interfering with me when I was mowing. -Teasing me. You will not leave me alone. You are -always watching me. You wanted to take the scythe -from me. If you had left me alone this would not have -happened.’</p> - -<p>‘Never mind, darling papa, how it happened. Now -we must do our best to cure you.’</p> - -<p>‘Am I badly hurt? What are these women coming -crowding round me for? I do not want the maids here. -Drive them back, Barbara.’</p> - -<p>Barbara made a sign to the cook and house and kitchen -maids to stand back.</p> - -<p>‘You must be moved to your room, papa.’</p> - -<p>‘Am I dying, Barbara?’</p> - -<p>‘I hope and trust not, dear.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot die without speaking; but I will not speak -till I am on the point of death.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not speak, father, at all now.’</p> - -<p>He obeyed and remained quiet, with his eyes looking -up at the sky. Thus he lay till Jasper arrived breathless. -He had heard the bell, and had run, suspecting some -disaster.</p> - -<p>‘Let me carry him, with one of the maids,’ said -Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ answered Barbara. ‘You shall take his shoulders, -I his feet. We will carry him on a mattress. Cook and -Jane have brought one. Help me to raise him on to it.’</p> - -<p>Jasper was the man she wanted. He did not lose his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -head. He did not ask questions, how the accident had -happened; he did not waste words in useless lamentation. -He sent a maid at once to the stable to saddle the horse. -A girl, in the country, can saddle and bridle as well as a boy.</p> - -<p>‘I am off for the doctor,’ he said shortly, as soon as -he had seen Mr. Jordan removed to the same downstairs -room in which he had so recently lain himself.</p> - -<p>‘Send for the lawyer,’ said Mr. Jordan, who had lain -with his eyes shut.</p> - -<p>‘The lawyer, papa!’</p> - -<p>‘I must make my will. I might die, and then what -would become of Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘Ride on to Tavistock after you have summoned Mr. -Coyshe,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>When Jasper was gone, Eve, who had been fluttering -about the door, came in, and threw herself sobbing on -her knees by her father’s bed. He put out his hand, -stroked her brow, and called her tender names.</p> - -<p>She was in great distress, reproaching herself for -having asked him to mow the grass for her; she charged -herself with having wounded him.</p> - -<p>‘No—no, Eve!’ said her father. ‘It was not your -fault. Barbara would not let me alone. She interfered, -and I lost my balance.’</p> - -<p>‘I am so glad it was not I,’ sobbed Eve.</p> - -<p>‘Let me look at you. Stand up,’ he said.</p> - -<p>She rose, but averted her face somewhat, so as not to -see the blood on the sheet. He had been caressing her. -Now, as he looked at her, he saw a red streak across her -forehead.</p> - -<p>‘My child! what is that? You are hurt! Barbara, -help! She is bleeding.’</p> - -<p>Barbara looked.</p> - -<p>‘It is nothing,’ she said; ‘your hand, papa, has left -some of its stains on her brow. Come with me, Eve, and -I will wash it clean.’</p> - -<p>The colour died completely out of Eve’s face, and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -seemed again about to faint. Barbara hastily bathed a -napkin in fresh water, and removed all traces of blood -from her forehead, and then kissed it.</p> - -<p>‘Is it gone?’ whispered Eve.</p> - -<p>‘Entirely.’</p> - -<p>‘I feel it still. I cannot remain here.’ Then the -young girl crept out of the room, hardly able to sustain -herself on her feet.</p> - -<p>When Barbara was alone with her father, she said to -him, in her quiet, composed tones, ‘Papa, though I do not -in the least think this wound will prove fatal, I am glad -you have sent for Lawyer Knighton, because you ought -to make your will, and provide for Eve. I made up my -mind to speak to you when I was on my way home from -Ashburton.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, what have you to say?’</p> - -<p>‘Papa! I’ve been thinking that as the money laid by -for Eve is gone for ever, and as my aunt has left me a -little more than sixteen hundred pounds, you ought to -give Morwell to Eve—that is, for the rest of your term of -it, some sixty-three years, I think. If you like to make a -little charge on it for me, do so, but do not let it be much. -I shall not require much to make me happy. I shall never -marry. If I had a good deal of money it is possible some -man would be base enough to want to marry me for it; -but if I have only a little, no one will think of asking me. -There is no one whom I care for whom I would dream of -taking—under no circumstances—nothing would move me -to it—nothing. And as an old maid, what could I do with -this property? Eve must marry. Indeed, she can have -almost anyone she likes. I do not think she cares for the -doctor, but there must be some young squire about here -who would suit her.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Barbara, you are right.’</p> - -<p>‘I am glad you think so,’ she said, smiled, and -coloured, pleased with his commendation, so rarely won. -‘No one can see Eve without loving her. I have my little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -scheme. Captain Cloberry is coming home from the army -this ensuing autumn, and if he is as nice as his sisters -say—then something may come of it. But I do not know -whether Eve cares or does not care for Mr. Coyshe. He -has not spoken to her yet. I think, papa, it would be well -to let him and everyone know that Morwell is not to come -to me, but is to go to Eve. Then everyone will know what -to expect.</p> - -<p>‘It shall be so. If Mr. Knighton comes, I will get the -doctor to be in the room when I make my will, and Jasper -Babb also.’ He considered for a while, and then said, -‘In spite of all—there is good in you, Barbara. I forgive -you my wound. There—you may kiss me.’</p> - -<p>As Barbara wished, and Mr. Jordan intended, so was -the will executed. Mr. Knighton, the solicitor, arrived at -the same time as the surgeon; he waited till Mr. Coyshe -had bandaged up the wound, and then he entered the sick -man’s room, summoned by Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘My second daughter,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘is, in the eye -of the law, illegitimate. My elder daughter has urged me -to do what I likewise feel to be right—to leave my title to -Morwell estate to Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘What is her surname—I mean her mother’s name?’</p> - -<p>‘That you need not know. I leave Morwell to my -daughter Eve, commonly called Eve Jordan. That is -Barbara’s wish.’</p> - -<p>‘I urged it on my father,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>Jasper, who had been called in, looked into her face -with an expression of admiration. She resented it, frowned, -and averted her head.</p> - -<p>When the will had been properly executed, the doctor -left the room with Jasper. He had already given his instructions -to Barbara how Mr. Jordan was to be treated. -Outside the door he found Eve fluttering, nervous, alarmed, -entreating to be reassured as to her father’s condition.</p> - -<p>‘Dear Barbie disturbed him whilst he was mowing,’ -she said, ‘and he let the scythe slip, and so got hurt.’ She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -was readily consoled when assured that the old gentleman -lay in no immediate danger. He must, however, be kept -quiet, and not allowed to leave his bed for some time. -Then Eve bounded away, light as a roe. The reaction set -in at once. She was like a cork in water, that can only -be kept depressed by force; remove the pressure and the -cork leaps to the surface again.</p> - -<p>Such was her nature. She could not help it.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper,’ said the surgeon, ‘I have never gone -over this property. If you have a spare hour and would -do me a favour, I should like to look about me. The -quality of the land is good?’</p> - -<p>‘Excellent.’</p> - -<p>‘Is there anywhere a map of the property that I could -run my eye over?’</p> - -<p>‘In the study.’</p> - -<p>‘What about the shooting, now?’</p> - -<p>‘It is not preserved. If it were it would be good, the -cover is so fine.’</p> - -<p>‘And there seems to be a good deal of timber.’</p> - -<p>After about an hour Mr. Coyshe rode away. ‘Some -men are Cyclopses, as far as their own interests are concerned,’ -said he to himself; ‘they carry but a single eye. -I invariably use two.’</p> - -<p>In the evening, when Barbara came to her sister’s -room to tell her that she intended to sit up during the -night with her father, she said: ‘Mr. Jasper is very kind. -He insists on taking half the watch, he will relieve me at -two o’clock. What is the matter with you, Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘I can see nothing, Barbie, but it is there still.’</p> - -<p>‘What is?’</p> - -<p>‘That red mark. I have been rubbing, and washing, -and it burns like fire.’</p> - -<p>‘I can see, my dear Eve, that where you have rubbed -your pretty white delicate skin, you have made it red.’</p> - -<p>‘I have rubbed it in. I feel it. I cannot get the feel -away. It stains me. It hurts me. It burns me.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c152" id="c152">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">A BUNCH OF ROSES.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Mr. Jordan’s</span> wound was not dangerous, but the strictest -rest was enjoined. He must keep his bed for some days. -As when Jasper was ill, so now that her father was an -invalid, the principal care devolved on Barbara. No -reliance could be placed on Eve, who was willing enough, -but too thoughtless and forgetful to be trusted. When -Barbara returned from Ashburton she found her store -closet in utter confusion: bags of groceries opened and -not tied up again, bottles of sauces upset and broken, -coffee berries and rice spilled over the floor, lemons with -the sugar, become mouldy, and dissolving the sugar. The -linen cupboard was in a similar disorder: sheets pulled -out and thrust back unfolded in a crumpled heap, pillow-cases -torn up for dusters, blankets turned out and left in a -damp place, where the moth had got to them. Now, -rather than give the keys to Eve, Barbara retained them, -and was kept all day engaged without a moment’s cessation. -She was not able to sit much with her father, but -Eve could do that, and her presence soothed the sick man. -Eve, however, would not remain long in the room with -her father. She was restless, her spirits flagged, and Mr. -Jordan himself insisted on her going out. Then she would -run to Jasper Babb, if he were near. She had taken a -great fancy to him. He was kind to her; he treated her -as a child, and accommodated himself to her humours. -Barbara could not now be with her. Besides, Barbara -had not that craving for colour and light, and melody and -poetry, that formed the very core of Eve’s soul. The elder -sister was severely practical. She liked what was beautiful, -as a well-educated young lady is required by society -to have such a liking, but it was not instinctive in her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -it was in no way a passion. Jasper, on the other hand, -responded to the æsthetic longings of Eve. He could -sympathise with her raptures; Barbara laughed at them. -It is said that everyone sees his own rainbow, but there -are many who are colour-blind and see no rainbows, only -raindrops. Wherever Eve looked she saw rainbows. -Jasper had a strong fibre of poetry in him, and he was -able to read the girl’s character and understand the uncertain -aspirations of her heart. He thought that Barbara -was mistaken in laughing down and showing no -interest in her enthusiasms, and he sought to give her -vague aspirations some direction, and her cravings some -satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Eve appreciated his efforts. She saw that he understood -her, which Barbara did not; she and Jasper had a -world of ideas in common from which her sister was shut -out. Eve took great delight in talking to Jasper, but her -chief delight was in listening to him when he played the -violin, or in accompanying him on the piano. Old violin -music was routed out of the cupboards, fresh was ordered. -Jasper introduced her to a great deal of very beautiful -classical music of which she was ignorant. Hitherto she -had been restrained to a few meagre collections: the -‘Musical Treasury,’ the ‘Sacred Harmonist,’ and the like. -Now, with her father’s consent, she ordered the operas of -Mozart, Beethoven’s sonatas, Rossini, Boieldieu, and was -guided, a ready pupil, by Jasper into this new and enchanted -world. By this means Jasper gave Eve an -interest, which hitherto she had lacked—a pursuit which -she followed with eagerness.</p> - -<p>Barbara was dissatisfied. She thought Jasper was -encouraging Eve in her frivolity, was diverting her from -the practical aims of life. She was angry with Jasper, -and misinterpreted his motives. The friendship subsisting -between her sister and the young steward was too -warm. How far would it go? How was it to be arrested? -Eve was inexperienced and wilful. Before she knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -where she was, Jasper would have gained her young heart. -She was so headstrong that Barbara doubted whether a -word of caution would avail anything. Nevertheless, convinced -that it was her duty to interfere, she did speak, -and, of course, gained nothing by so doing. Barbara -lacked tact. She spoke to Eve plainly, but guardedly.</p> - -<p>‘Why, Bab! what are you thinking of? Why should -I not be with Mr. Jasper?’ answered Eve to her sister’s -expostulation. ‘I like him vastly; he talks delightfully, -he knows so much about music, he plays and sings the -tears into my eyes, and sets my feet tingling to dance. -Papa does not object. When we are practising I leave the -parlour door open for papa to hear. He says he enjoys -listening. Oh, Barbie! I wish you loved music as I do. -But as you don’t, let me go my way with the music, and -you go your way with the groceries.’</p> - -<p>‘My dearest sister,’ said Barbara, ‘I do not think it -looks well to see you running after Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘Looks well!’ repeated Eve. ‘Who is to see me? -Morwell is quite out of the world. Besides,’ she screwed -up her pretty mouth to a pout, ‘I don’t run after him, he -runs after me, of course.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear, dear Eve,’ said Barbara earnestly, ‘you -must not suffer him to do so.’</p> - -<p>‘Why not?’ asked Eve frankly. ‘You like Ponto and -puss to run after you, and the little black calf, and the -pony in the paddock. What is the difference? You care -for one sort of animals, and I for another. I detest dogs -and cats and bullocks.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve, sweetheart’—poor Barbara felt her powerlessness -to carry her point, even to make an impression, but in her -conscientiousness believed herself bound to go on—’your -conduct is indiscreet. We must never part with our self-respect. -That is the guardian angel given to girls by God.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Bab!’ Eve burst out laughing. ‘What a dear, -grave old Mother Hubbard you are! I am always doing, -and always will do, exactly opposite to what you intend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -and expect. I know why you are lecturing me now. I -will tell Mr. Jasper how jealous you have become.’</p> - -<p>‘For heaven’s sake!’ exclaimed Barbara, springing to -her feet—she had been sitting beside Eve—’do nothing -of the sort. Do not mention my name to him. I -am not jealous. It is an insult to me to make such a -suggestion. Do I ever seek his company? Do I not shun -it? No, Eve, I am moved only by uneasiness for you. -You are thoughtless, and are playing a dangerous game -with that man. When he sees how you seek his society, -it flatters him, and his vanity will lead him to think of -you with more warmth than is well. Understand this, -Eve—there is a bar between him and you which should -make the man keep his distance, and he shows a wicked -want of consideration when he draws near you, relying on -your ignorance.’</p> - -<p>‘What are you hinting at?’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot speak out as I wish, but I assure you of this, -Eve, unless you are more careful of your conduct, I shall -be forced to take steps to get Jasper Babb dismissed.’</p> - -<p>Eve laughed, clapped her hands on her sister’s cheeks, -kissed her lips and said, ‘You dear old Mother Hubbard, -you can’t do it. Papa would not listen to you if I told -him that I wanted Jasper to stay.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was hurt. This was true, but it was unkind -of Eve to say it. The young girl was herself aware that -she had spoken unfeelingly, was sorry, and tried to make -amends by coaxing her sister.</p> - -<p>‘I want you to tell me,’ said Barbara, very gravely, -‘for you have not told me yet, who gave you the ring?’</p> - -<p>‘I did not tell you because you said you knew. No one -carries water to the sea or coals to Newcastle.’</p> - -<p>‘Be candid with me, Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘Am not I open as the day? Why should you complain?’</p> - -<p>‘Eve, be serious. Was it Mr. Jasper who gave you -the turquoise ring?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Jasper!’ Eve held out her skirts daintily, and danced -and made curtsies round her sister, in the prettiest, most -coquettish, laughing way. ‘You dearest, you best, you -most jealous of sisters; we will not quarrel over poor good -Jasper. I don’t mind how much you pet the black calf. -How absurd you are! You make me laugh sometimes at -your density. There, do not cry. I would tell you all if -I dared.’ Then warbling a strain, and still holding her -skirts out, she danced as in a minuet, slowly out of the -room, looking back over her shoulder at her distressed -sister.</p> - -<p>That was all Barbara had got by speaking—nothing, -absolutely nothing. She knew that Eve would not be one -wit more guarded in her conduct for what had been said -to her. Barbara revolved in her mind the threat she -had rashly made of driving Jasper away. That would -necessitate the betrayal of his secret. Could she bring -herself to this? Hardly. No, the utmost she could do -was to threaten him that, unless he voluntarily departed, -she would reveal the secret to her father.</p> - -<p>A day or two after this scene, Barbara was again put -to great distress by Eve’s conduct.</p> - -<p>She knew well enough that she and her sister were -invited to the Cloberrys to an afternoon party and dance. -Eve had written and accepted before the accident to Mr. -Jordan. Barbara had let her write, because she was -herself that day much engaged and could not spare time. -The groom had ridden over from Bradstone manor, and -was waiting for an answer, just whilst Barbara was -weighing out sago and tapioca. When Mr. Jordan was hurt, -Barbara had wished to send a boy to Bradstone with a letter -declining the party, but Mr. Coyshe had said that her father -was not in danger, had insisted on Eve promising him a -couple of dances, and had so strictly combated her desire -to withdraw that she had given way.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon, when the girls were ready to go, they -came downstairs to kiss their father, and let him see them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -in their pretty dresses. The little carriage was at the -door.</p> - -<p>In the hall they met Jasper Babb, also dressed for the -party. He held in his hands two lovely bouquets, one of -yellow tea-scented roses, which he handed to Barbara, the -other of Malmaison, delicate white, with a soft inner blush, -which he offered to Eve. Whence had he procured them? -No doubt he had been for them to a nursery at Tavistock.</p> - -<p>Eve was in raptures over her Malmaison; it was a new -rose, quite recently introduced, and she had never seen it -before. She looked at it, uttered exclamations of delight, -smelt at the flowers, then ran off to her father that she -might show him her treasures.</p> - -<p>Barbara thanked Jasper somewhat stiffly; she was -puzzled. Why was he dressed?</p> - -<p>‘Are you going to ride, or to drive us?’ asked Eve, -skipping into the hall again. She had put her bunch in -her girdle. She was charmingly dressed, with rose satin -ribands in her hair, about her throat, round her waist. -Her face was, in colour, itself like a souvenir de la -Malmaison rose.</p> - -<p>‘Whom are you addressing?’ asked Barbara seriously.</p> - -<p>‘I am speaking to Jasper,’ answered Eve.</p> - -<p>‘<i>Mr.</i> Jasper,’ said Barbara, ‘was not invited to Bradstone.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, that does not matter!’ said the ready Eve. ‘I accepted -for him. You know, dear Bab—I mean Barbie—that -I had to write, as you were up to your neck in tapioca. -Well, at these parties there are so many girls and so few -gentlemen, that I thought I would give the Cloberry girls -and Mr. Jasper a pleasure at once, so I wrote to say that -you and I accepted and would bring with us a young gentleman, -a friend of papa, who was staying in the house. -Mr. Jasper ought to know the neighbours, and get some -pleasure.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was aghast.</p> - -<p>‘I think, Miss Eve, you have been playing tricks with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -me,’ said Jasper. ‘Surely I understood you that I had -been specially invited, and that you had accordingly accepted -for me.’</p> - -<p>‘Did I?’ asked Eve carelessly; ‘it is all the same. The -Cloberry girls will be delighted to see you. Last time I -was there they said they hoped to have an afternoon dance, -but were troubled how to find gentlemen as partners for -all the pretty Misses.’</p> - -<p>‘That being so,’ said Barbara sternly, turning as she -spoke to Jasper, ‘of course you do not go?’</p> - -<p>‘Not go!’ exclaimed Eve; ‘to be sure he goes. We -are engaged to each other for a score of dances.’ Then, -seeing the gloom gathering on her sister’s brow, she explained, -‘It is a plan between us so as to get free from -Doctor Squash. When Squash asks my hand, I can say I -am engaged. I have been booked by him for two dances, -and he shall have no more.’</p> - -<p>‘You have been inconsiderate,’ said Barbara. ‘Unfortunately -Mr. Babb cannot leave Morwell, as my father is -in his bed—it is not possible.’</p> - -<p>‘I have no desire to go,’ said Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘I do not suppose you have,’ said Barbara haughtily, -turning to him. ‘You are judge of what is right and fitting—in -every way.’</p> - -<p>Then Eve’s temper broke out. Her cheeks flushed, her -lips quivered, and the tears started into her eyes. ‘I will -not allow Mr. Jasper to be thus treated,’ she exclaimed. -‘I cannot understand you, Barbie; how can you, who are -usually so considerate, grudge Mr. Jasper a little pleasure? -He has been working hard for papa, and he has been kind -to me, and he has made your garden pretty, and now you -are mean and ungrateful, and send him back to his room -when he is dressed for the party. I’ll go and ask papa to -interfere.’</p> - -<p>Then she ran off to her father’s room.</p> - -<p>The moment Eve was out of hearing, Barbara’s anger -blazed forth. ‘You are not acting right. You forget your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -position; you forget who you are. How dare you allow -my sister——? If you had a spark of honour, a grain of -good feeling in your heart, you would keep her at arm’s -length. She is a child, inconsiderate and confiding; you -are a man with such a foul stain on your name, that you -must not come near those who are clean, lest you smirch -them. Keep to yourself, sir! Away!’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ he answered, with a troubled expression -on his face and a quiver in his voice, ‘you are hard on me. -I had no desire whatever to go to this dance, but Miss Eve -told me it was arranged that I was to go, and I am obedient -in this house. Of course, now I withdraw.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course you do. Good heavens! In a few days -some chance might bring all to light, and then it would -be the scandal of the neighbourhood that we had introduced—that -Eve had danced with—an escaped jail-bird—a -vulgar thief.’</p> - -<p>She walked out through the door, and threw the bunch -of yellow roses upon the plot of grass in the quadrangle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c159" id="c159">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">WHERE THEY WITHERED.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> did not enjoy the party at the Cloberrys. She -was dull and abstracted. It was otherwise with Eve. -During the drive she had sulked; she was in a pet with -Barbara, who was a stupid, tiresome marplot. But when -she arrived at Bradstone and was surrounded by admirers, -when she had difficulty, not in getting partners, but in -selecting among those who pressed themselves on her, -Eve’s spirits were elated. She forgot about Jasper, Barbara, -her father, about everything but present delight. -With sparkling eyes, heightened colour, and dimples that -came and went in her smiling face, she sailed past Barbara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -without observing her, engrossed in the pleasure of the -dance, and in playing with her partner.</p> - -<p>Barbara was content to be unnoticed. She sat by herself -in a corner, scarce noticing what went on, so wrapped -up was she in her thoughts. Her mood was observed by -her hostess, and attributed to anxiety for her father. Mrs. -Cloberry went to her, seated herself at her side, and talked -to her kindly about Mr. Jordan and his accident.</p> - -<p>‘You have a friend staying with you. We rather expected -him,’ said Mrs. Cloberry.</p> - -<p>‘Oh!’ Barbara answered, ‘that was dear Eve’s nonsense. -She is a child, and does not think. My father has -engaged a steward; of course he could not come.’</p> - -<p>‘How lovely Eve is!’ said Mrs. Cloberry. ‘I think I -never saw so exquisite a creature.’</p> - -<p>‘And she is as good and sweet as she is lovely,’ answered -Barbara, always eager to sing her sister’s praises.</p> - -<p>Eve’s roses were greatly admired. She had her posy -out of her waistband showing the roses, and many a compliment -was occasioned by them. ‘Barbara had a beautifull -bouquet also,’ she said, and looked round. ‘Oh, Bab! -where are your yellow roses?’</p> - -<p>‘I have dropped them,’ answered Barbara.</p> - -<p>Besides dancing there was singing. Eve required little -pressing.</p> - -<p>‘My dear Miss Jordan,’ said Mrs. Cloberry, ‘how your -sister has improved in style. Who has been giving her -lessons?’</p> - -<p>The party was a pleasant one; it broke up early. It -began at four o’clock and was over when the sun set. As -the sisters drove home, Eve prattled as a brook over stones. -She had perfectly enjoyed herself. She had outshone every -girl present, had been much courted and greatly flattered. -Eve was not a vain girl; she knew she was pretty, and -accepted homage as her right. Her father and sister had -ever been her slaves; and she expected to find everyone -wear chains before her. But there was no vulgar conceit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -about her. A queen born to wear the crown grows up to -expect reverence and devotion. It is her due. So with -Eve; she had been a queen in Morwell since infancy.</p> - -<p>Barbara listened to her talk and answered her in monosyllables, -but her mind was not with the subject of Eve’s -conversation. She was thinking then, and she had been -thinking at Bradstone, whilst the floor throbbed with dancing -feet, whilst singers were performing, of that bouquet of -yellow roses which she had flung away. Was it still lying -on the grass in the quadrangle? Had Jane, the housemaid, -seen it, picked it up, and taken it to adorn the kitchen -table?</p> - -<p>She knew that Jasper must have taken a long walk to -procure those two bunches of roses. She knew that he -could ill afford the expense. When he was ill, she had put -aside his little purse containing his private money, and had -counted it, to make sure that none was lost or taken. She -knew that he was poor. Out of the small sum he owned -he must have paid a good deal for these roses.</p> - -<p>She had thrown her bunch away in angry scorn, under -his eyes. She had been greatly provoked; but—had she -behaved in a ladylike and Christian spirit? She might -have left her roses in a tumbler in the parlour or the hall. -That would have been a courteous rebuff—but to fling -them away!</p> - -<p>There are as many conflicting currents in the human -soul as in the ocean; some run from east to west, and -some from north to south, some are sweet and some bitter, -some hot and others cold. Only in the Sargasso Sea are -there no currents—and that is a sea of weeds. What we -believe to-day we reject to-morrow; we are resentful at -one moment over a wrong inflicted, and are repentant the -next for having been ourselves the wrong-doer. Barbara -had been in fiery indignation at three o’clock against -Jasper; by five she was cooler, and by six reproached -herself.</p> - -<p>As the sisters drove into the little quadrangle, Barbara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -turned her head aside, and whilst she made as though she -were unwinding the knitted shawl that was wrapt about -her head, she looked across the turf, and saw lying, where -she had cast it, the bunch of roses.</p> - -<p>The stable-boy came with his lantern to take the horse -and carriage, and the sisters dismounted. Jane appeared -at the hall door to divest them of their wraps.</p> - -<p>‘How is papa?’ asked Eve; then, without waiting for -an answer, she ran into her father’s room to kiss him and -tell him of the party, and show herself again in her pretty -dress, and again receive his words of praise and love.</p> - -<p>But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding -her cloak. Then she put both her own and her sister’s -parasols together in the stand. Then she stood brushing -her soles on the mat—quite unnecessarily, as they were -not dirty.</p> - -<p>‘You may go away, Jane,’ said Barbara to the maid, -who lingered at the door.</p> - -<p>‘Please, Miss, I’m waiting for you to come in, that I -may lock up.’</p> - -<p>Then Barbara was obliged to enter.</p> - -<p>‘Has Mr. Babb been with my father?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>‘No, Miss. I haven’t seen him since you left.’</p> - -<p>‘You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to-morrow, -and you will have to be up at four. Has not -Mr. Babb had his supper?’</p> - -<p>‘No, Miss. He has not been here at all.’</p> - -<p>‘That will do.’ She signed the maid to leave.</p> - -<p>She stood in the hall, hesitating. Should she unbar -the door and go out and recover the roses? Eve would -leave her father’s room in a moment, and ask questions -which it would be inconvenient to answer. Let them lie. -She went upstairs with her sister, after having wished her -father good-night.</p> - -<p>‘Barbie, dear!’ said Eve, ‘did you observe Mr. -Squash?’</p> - -<p>‘Do not, Eve. That is not his name.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I think he looked a little disconcerted. I repudiated.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘I refused to be bound by the engagements we had -made for a quadrille and a waltz. I did not want to dance -with him, and I did not.’</p> - -<p>‘Run back into your room, darling, and go to bed.’</p> - -<p>When Barbara was alone she went to her window and -opened it. The window looked into the court. If she -leaned her head out far, she could see where the bunch of -roses ought to be. But she could not see them, though -she looked, for the grass lay dusk in the shadows. The -moon was rising, and shone on the long roof like steel, and -the light was creeping down the wall. That long roof was -over the washhouse, and next morning at early dawn the -maids would cross the quadrangle with the linen and carry -fuel, and would either trample on or pick up and appropriate -the bunch of yellow roses.</p> - -<p>Barbara remembered every word that she had said to -Jasper. She could not forget—and now could not forgive -herself. Her words had been cruel; how they must have -wounded him! He had not been seen since. Perhaps he -was gone and would not return again. They and she -would see him no more. That would be well in one way, -it would relieve her of anxiety about Eve; but, on the -other hand, Jasper had proved himself most useful, and, -above all—he was repentant. Her treatment of him might -make him desperate, and cause him to abandon his resolutions -to amend. Barbara knelt at the window, and -prayed.</p> - -<p>The white owls were flying about the old house. They -had their nests in the great barn. The bats were squeaking -as they whisked across the quadrangle, hunting gnats.</p> - -<p>When Barbara rose from her knees her eyes were -moist. She stood on tiptoe and looked forth from the -casement again. The moonlight had reached the sward, -drawing a sharp line of light across it, broken by one -brighter speck—the bunch of roses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then Barbara, without her shoes, stole downstairs. -There was sufficient light in the hall for her to find her -way across it to the main door. She very softly unbarred -it, and still in her stockings, unshod, went out on the -doorstep, over the gravel, the dewy grass, and picked up -the cold wet bunch.</p> - -<p>Then she slipped in again, refastened the door, and -with beating heart regained her room.</p> - -<p>Now that she had the roses, what should she do with -them? She stood in the middle of her room near the -candle, looking at them. They were not much faded. -The sun had not reached them, and the cool grass had -kept them fresh. They were very delicately formed, lovely -roses, and freshly sweet. What should she do with them? -If they were put in a tumbler they would flourish for a few -days, and then the leaves would fall off, and leave a dead -cluster of seedless rose-hearts.</p> - -<p>Barbara had a desk that had belonged to her mother, -and this desk had in it a secret drawer. In this drawer -Barbara preserved a few special treasures; a miniature of -her mother, a silver cold-cream capsule with the head of -Queen Anne on it, that had belonged to her grandmother, -the ring of brilliants and sapphire that had come to her -from her aunt, and a lock of Eve’s hair when she was a -baby. Barbara folded the roses in a sheet of white paper, -wrote in pencil on it the date, and placed them in the -secret drawer, there to wither along with the greatest -treasures she possessed.</p> - -<p>Barbara’s heart was no Sargasso Sea. In it ran currents -strong and contrary. What she cast away with -scorn in the afternoon, she sought and hid as a treasure in -the night.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c165" id="c165">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">LEAH AND RACHEL.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Sunday</span> was a quiet day at Morwell. As the Jordans were -Catholics they did not attend their parish church, which -was Tavistock, some four miles distant. The servants -went, or pretended to go. Morwell was quiet on all days, -it was most quiet of all on a bright Sunday, for then there -were fewest people about the old house.</p> - -<p>Jasper Babb had not run away, offended at Barbara’s -rudeness. He went about his work as usual, was as little -seen of the sisters as might be, and silent when in their -company.</p> - -<p>On Sunday evening Barbara and Eve strolled out together; -it was their wont to do so on that day, when the -weather permitted. Jane, the housemaid, was at home -with their father.</p> - -<p>They directed their steps as usual to the Raven Rock, -which commanded so splendid a view to the west, was so -airy, and so sunny a spot that they liked to sit there and -talk. It was not often that Barbara had the leisure for -such a ramble; on Sundays she made a point of it. As -the two girls emerged from the wood, and came out on the -platform of rock, they were surprised to see Jasper seated -there with a book on his knee. He rose at once on hearing -their voices and seeing them. If he had wished to -escape, escape was impossible, for the rock descends on -all sides sheer to great depths, except where the path leads -to it.</p> - -<p>‘Do not let us disturb you,’ said Barbara; ‘we will -withdraw if we interrupt your studies.’</p> - -<p>‘What is the book?’ asked Eve. ‘If it be poetry, read -us something from it.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> - -<p>He hesitated a moment, then with a smile said, ‘It -contains the noblest poetry—it is my Bible.’</p> - -<p>‘The Bible!’ exclaimed Barbara. She was pleased. -He certainly was sincere in his repentance. He would not -have gone away to a private spot to read the sacred volume -unless he were in earnest.</p> - -<p>‘Let us sit down, Barbie!’ said Eve. ‘Don’t run -away, Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘As Mr. Jasper was reading, and you asked him to give -you something from the book, I will join in the request.’</p> - -<p>‘I thought it was perhaps—Byron,’ said Eve.</p> - -<p>‘As it is not Byron, but something better, we shall be -all the better satisfied to have it read to us,’ said Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Well, then, some of the story part, please,’ asked Eve, -screwing up her mouth, ‘and not much of it.’</p> - -<p>‘I should prefer a Psalm,’ said Barbara; ‘or a chapter -from one of the Epistles.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know what to read,’ Jasper said smiling, ‘as -each of you asks for something different.’</p> - -<p>‘I have an idea,’ exclaimed Eve. ‘He shall hold the -book shut. I will close my eyes and open the volume at -hap-hazard, and point with my finger. He shall read that, -and we can conjure from it, or guess our characters, or -read our fate. Then you shall do the same. Will that -please you?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know about guessing characters and reading -our fate; our characters we know by introspection, and -the future is hidden from our eyes by the same Hand that -sent the book. But if you wish Mr. Jasper to be guided -by this method what to read, I do not object.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well,’ said Eve, in glee; ‘that will be fun! You -will promise, Barbie, to shut your eyes when you open and -put your finger on a page? And, Mr. Jasper, you promise -to read exactly what my sister and I select?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ answered both to whom she appealed.</p> - -<p>‘But mind this,’ pursued the lively girl; ‘you must -stop as soon as I am tired.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then first, eager in all she did that promised entertainment -or diversion, she took the Bible from Mr. Babb’s -hands, and closed her eyes; a pretty smile played about -her flexible lips as she sat groping with her finger among -the pages. Then she opened the book and her blue orbs -together.</p> - -<p>‘There!’ she exclaimed, ‘I have made my choice; -yet—wait! I will mark my place, and then pass the book -to Bab—I mean, Barbie.’ She had a wild summer rose -in her bosom. She pulled off a petal, touched it with her -tongue, and put the leaf at the spot she had selected.</p> - -<p>Then she shut the Bible with a snap, laughed, and -handed it to her sister.</p> - -<p>‘I need not shut my eyes,’ said Barbara; ‘I will look you -full in the face, Eve.’ Then she took the book and felt for -the end pages that she might light on an Epistle; just as -she saw that Eve had groped for an early part of the book -that she might have a story from the times of the patriarchs. -She did not know that Eve in handing her the -book had not turned it; consequently she held the Bible -reversed. Barbara held a buttercup in her hand. She was -so accustomed to use her fingers, that it was strange to her -to have nothing to employ them. As they came through the -meadows she had picked a few flowers, broken the stalks -and thrown them away. There remained in her hand but -one buttercup.</p> - -<p>Barbara placed the Bible on her lap; she, like Eve, -had seated herself on the rocky ledge. Then she opened -near what she believed to be the end of the book, and laid -the golden cup on a page.</p> - -<p>Eve leaned towards her and looked, and uttered an exclamation.</p> - -<p>‘What is it?’ asked Barbara, and looked also.</p> - -<p>Behold! the golden flower of Barbara was shining on -the pink petal of Eve’s rose.</p> - -<p>‘We have chosen the same place. Now, Barbie, what -do you say to this? Is it a chance, or are we going to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -learn our fate, which is bound up together, from the -passage Mr. Jasper is about to read?’</p> - -<p>‘There is no mystery in the matter,’ said Barbara -quietly; ‘you did not turn the book when you gave it to -me, and it naturally opened where your flower lay.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on, Mr. Jasper,’ exhorted Eve. But the young -man seemed ill-disposed to obey.</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara; ‘begin. We are ready.’</p> - -<p>Then Jasper began to read:—</p> - -<p>‘Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of -the people of the east. And he looked, and behold a well -in a field, and, lo, there were flocks of sheep lying by it.’</p> - -<p>‘I am glad we are going to have this story,’ said Eve; -‘I like it. It is a pretty one. Jacob came to that house -of Laban just as you, Mr. Babb, have come to Morwell.’</p> - -<p>Jasper read on:—</p> - -<p>‘And Laban had two daughters: now the name of the -elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was Rachel. -Leah was tender eyed; but Rachel was beautiful and well-favoured.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was listening, but as she listened she looked -away into the blue distance over the vast gulf of the Tamar -valley towards the Cornish moors, the colour of cobalt, -with a salmon sky above them. Something must at that -moment have struck the mind of Jasper, for he paused in -his reading, and his eyes sought hers.</p> - -<p>She said in a hard tone, ‘Go on.’</p> - -<p>Then he continued in a low voice, ‘And Jacob loved -Rachel; and said, I will serve thee seven years for Rachel, -thy younger daughter. And Laban said, It is better that -I give her to thee, than that I should give her to another -man: abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for -Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for -the love he had to her.’</p> - -<p>The reader again paused; and again with a hard voice -Barbara bade him proceed.</p> - -<p>‘And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -days are fulfilled. And Laban gathered together all the -men of the place, and made a feast. And it came to pass -in the evening, that he took Leah his daughter, and -brought her to Jacob.’</p> - -<p>‘That will do,’ said Eve, ‘I am tired.’</p> - -<p>‘It seems to me,’ said Barbara, in a subdued tone, -‘that Leah was a despicable woman, a woman without -self-respect. She took the man, though she knew his -heart was set on Rachel, and that he did not care a rush -for her. No!—I do not like the story. It is odious.’ -She stood up and, beckoning to Eve, left the platform of -rock.</p> - -<p>Jasper remained where he had been, without closing -the book, without reading further, lost in thought. Then -a small head appeared above the side of the rock where it -jutted out of the bank of underwood, also a pair of hands -that clutched at the projecting points of stone; and in -another moment a boy had pulled himself on to the platform, -and lay on it with his feet dangling over the edge, -his head and breast raised on his hands. He was -laughing.</p> - -<p>‘What! dreaming, Master Jasper Jacob? Of which? -Of the weak-eyed Leah or the blue-orbed Rachel?’</p> - -<p>The young man started as if he had been stung.</p> - -<p>‘What has brought you here, Watt? No good, I -fear.’</p> - -<p>‘O my dear Jasper, there you are out. Goodness personified -has brought me here—even your own pious self, -sitting Bible-reading to two pretty girls. How happy -could I be with either! Eh, Jasper?’</p> - -<p>‘What do you want with me?’ asked Jasper, reddening; -‘I detest your fun.’</p> - -<p>‘Which is it?’ taunted the mischievous boy. ‘Which—the -elder, plain and dark; or the younger, beautiful as -dawn? or—like the patriarch Jacob—both?’</p> - -<p>‘Enough of this, Watt. What has brought you -here?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘To see you, of course. I know you think me void of -all Christianity, but I have that in me yet, I like to know -the whereabouts of my brother, and how he is getting on. -I am still with Martin—ever on the move, like the sun, -like the winds, like the streams, like everything that does -not stagnate.’</p> - -<p>‘It is a hard thing for me to say,’ said Jasper, ‘but it -is true. Poor Martin would be better without you. He -would be another man, and his life not blighted, had it -not been for your profane and mocking tongue. He was -a generous-hearted fellow, thoughtless, but not wicked; -you, however, have gained complete power over him, and -have used it for evil. Your advice is for the bad, your -sneers for what is good.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know good from bad,’ said the boy, with a -contemptuous grin.</p> - -<p>‘Watt, you have scoffed at every good impulse in -Martin’s heart, you have drowned the voice of his conscience -by your gibes. It is you who have driven him -with your waspish tongue along the road of ruin.’</p> - -<p>‘Not at all, Jasper; there you wrong me. It was you -who had the undoing of Martin. You have loved him and -screened him since he was a child. You have taken the -punishment and blame on you which he deserved by his -misconduct. Of course he is a giddypate. It is you who -have let him grow up without dread of the consequences -of wrong-doing, because the punishment always fell on -you. You, Jasper, have spoiled Martin, not I.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, Watt, this may be so. Father was unduly -harsh. I had no one else to love at home but my brother -Martin. You were such a babe as to be no companion. -And Martin I did—I do love. Such a noble, handsome, -frank-hearted brother! All sunshine and laughter! My -childhood had been charged with grief and shadow, and I -did my best to screen him. One must love something in -this world, or the heart dies. I loved my brother.’</p> - -<p>‘Love, love!’ laughed Watt. ‘Now you have that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -heart so full that it is overflowing towards two nice girls. -I suppose that, enthralled between blue eyes and brown, -you have no thought left for Martin, none for father—who, -by the way, is dying.’</p> - -<p>‘Dying!’ exclaimed Jasper, springing to his feet.</p> - -<p>‘There, now!’ said the boy; ‘don’t in your astonishment -topple over the edge of the precipice into kingdom -come.’</p> - -<p>‘How do you know this, Watt?’ asked Jasper in great -agitation.</p> - -<p>‘Because I have been to Buckfastleigh and seen the -beastly old hole, and the factory, and the grey rat in his -hole, curled up, gnawing his nails and squealing with -pain.’</p> - -<p>‘For shame of you, Watt! you have no reverence even -for your father.’</p> - -<p>‘Reverence, Jasper! none in the world for anybody or -anything. Everything like reverence was killed out of me -by my training.’</p> - -<p>‘What is the matter with father?’</p> - -<p>‘How should I tell? I saw him making contortions -and yowling. I did not approach too near lest he should -bite.’</p> - -<p>‘I shall go at once,’ said Jasper earnestly.</p> - -<p>‘Of course you will. You are the heir. Eh! Jasper! -When you come in for the house and cloth mill, you will -extend to us the helping hand. O you saint! Why don’t -you dance as I do? Am I taken in by your long face? -Ain’t I sure that your heart is beating because now at last -you will come in for the daddy’s collected money? Poor -Martin! He can’t come and share. You won’t be mean, -but divide, Jasper? I’ll be the go-between.’</p> - -<p>‘Be silent, you wicked boy!’ said Jasper angrily; ‘I -cannot endure your talk. It is repugnant to me.’</p> - -<p>‘Because I talk of sharing. You, the saint! He -sniffs filthy mammon and away he flies like a crow to -carrion. Good-bye, Jasper! Away you go like an arrow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -from the bow. Don’t let that old housekeeper rummage -the stockings stuffed with guineas out of the chimney -before you get to Buckfastleigh!’</p> - -<p>Jasper left the rock and strode hastily towards Morwell, -troubled at heart at the news given him. Had he -looked behind him as he entered the wood, he would have -seen the boy making grimaces, capering, clapping his -hands and knees, whistling, screaming snatches of operatic -tunes, laughing, and shouting ‘Which is it to be, Rachel -or Leah?’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c172" id="c172">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">AN IMP OF DARKNESS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> went immediately to Mr. Jordan. He found Eve -with her father. Jane, the housemaid, had exhibited -signs of restlessness and impatience to be off. Joseph -Woodman, the policeman from Tavistock, a young and -sleepy man who was paying her his addresses, had appeared -at the kitchen window and coughed. He was off -duty, and Jane thought it hard that she should be on -when he was off. So Eve had let her depart with her -lover.</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ said Mr. Jordan, who was still in bed, ‘what is -it? Do you want me?’</p> - -<p>‘I have come to ask your permission to leave for a few -days. I must go to my father, who is dying. I will return -as soon as I can.’</p> - -<p>Eve’s great blue eyes opened with amazement. ‘You -said nothing about this ten minutes ago.’</p> - -<p>‘I did not know it then.’</p> - -<p>‘What!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan, trying to rise on his -elbow, and his eyes brightening, ‘Ezekiel Babb dying! -Is justice overtaking him at last?’</p> - -<p>‘I hear that he is dying,’ said Jasper; ‘it is my duty -to go to him.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘If he dies,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘to whom will his -property go?’</p> - -<p>‘Probably to me; but it is premature to inquire.’</p> - -<p>‘Not at all. My Eve has been robbed——’</p> - -<p>‘Sir!’ said Jasper gravely, ‘I undertook to repay that -sum as soon as it should be in my power to do so, principal -and interest. I have your permission, sir?’ He -bowed and withdrew.</p> - -<p>At supper Barbara looked round, and noticed the -absence of Jasper Babb, but she said nothing.</p> - -<p>‘You need not look at that empty chair,’ said Eve; -‘Mr. Jasper will not be here. He is gone.’</p> - -<p>‘Gone where?’</p> - -<p>‘Called away suddenly. His father is dying.’</p> - -<p>Barbara raised her eyebrows. She was greatly puzzled. -She sat playing with her fork, and presently said, ‘This is -very odd—who brought the news?’</p> - -<p>‘I saw no one. He came in almost directly after we -left him on the Raven Rock.’</p> - -<p>‘But no one came up to the house.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, yes—Joseph Woodman, Jane’s sweetheart, the -policeman.’</p> - -<p>‘He cannot have brought the news.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not think Mr. Jasper saw him, but I cannot say.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot understand it, Eve,’ mused Barbara. ‘What -is more, I do not believe it.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was more puzzled and disturbed than she -chose to show. How could Jasper have received news of -his father? If the old man had sent a messenger, that -messenger would have come to the house and rested there, -and been refreshed with a glass of cider and cake and cold -beef. No one had been to the house but the policeman, -and a policeman was not likely to be made the vehicle of -communication between old Babb and his son, living in -concealment. More probably Jasper had noticed that a -policeman was hovering about Morwell, had taken alarm, -and absented himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then that story of Jacob serving for Rachel and being -given Leah came back on her. Was it not being in part -enacted before her eyes? Was not Jasper there acting as -steward to her father, likely to remain there for some -years, and all the time with the love of Eve consuming -his heart? ‘And the seven years seemed unto him but a -few days for the love that he had to her.’ What of Eve? -Would she come to care for him, and in her wilfulness -insist on having him? It could not be. It must not be. -Please God, now that Jasper was gone, he would not -return. Then, again, her mind swung back to the perplexing -question of the reason of Jasper’s departure. He -<i>could</i> not go home. It was out of the question his showing -his face again at Buckfastleigh. He would be recognised -and taken immediately. Why did he invent and -pass off on her father such a falsehood as an excuse for his -disappearance? If he were made uneasy by the arrival of -the Tavistock policeman at the house, he might have -found some other excuse, but to deliberately say that his -father was dying and that he must attend his deathbed, -this was monstrous.</p> - -<p>Eve remained till late, sitting in the parlour without a -light. The servant maids were all out. Their eagerness -to attend places of worship on Sunday—especially Sunday -evenings—showed a strong spirit of devotion; and the -lateness of the hour to which those acts of worship detained -them proved also that their piety was of stubborn -and enduring quality. Generally, one of the maids remained -at home, but on this occasion Barbara and Eve -had allowed Jane to go out when she had laid the table for -supper, because her policeman had come, and there was to -be a love-feast at the little dissenting chapel which Jane -attended. The lover having turned up, the love-feast -must follow.</p> - -<p>As the servants had not returned, Barbara remained -below, waiting till she heard their voices. Her father was -dozing. She looked in at him and then returned to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -place by the latticed window. The room was dark, but -there was silvery light in the summer sky, becoming very -white towards the north. Outside the window was a jessamine; -the scent it exhaled at night was too strong. Barbara -shut the window to exclude the fragrance. It made -her head ache. A light air played with the jessamine, -and brushed some of the white flowers against the glass. -Barbara was usually sharp with the servants when they -returned from their revivals, and love-feasts, and missionary -meetings, late; but this evening she felt no impatience. -She had plenty to occupy her mind, and the time passed -quickly with her. All at once she heard a loud prolonged -hoot of an owl, so near and so loud that she felt sure the -bird must be in the house. Next moment she heard her -father’s voice calling repeatedly and excitedly. She ran to -him and found him alarmed and agitated. His window -had been left open, as the evening was warm.</p> - -<p>‘I heard an owl!’ he said. ‘It was at my ear; it -called, and roused me from my sleep. It was not an owl—I -do not know what it was. I saw something, I am not -sure what.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa dear, I heard the bird. You know there are -several about. They have their nests in the barn and old -empty pigeon-house. One came by the window hooting. -I heard it also.’</p> - -<p>‘I saw something,’ he said.</p> - -<p>She took his hand. It was cold and trembling.</p> - -<p>‘You were dreaming, papa. The owl roused you, and -dreams mixed with your waking impressions, so that you -cannot distinguish one from another.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know,’ he said, vacantly, and put his hand to -his head. ‘I do see and hear strange things. Do not -leave me alone, Barbara. Kindle a light, and read me one -of Challoner’s Meditations. It may compose me.’</p> - -<p>Eve was upstairs, amusing herself with unfolding and -trying on the yellow and crimson dress she had found in -the garret. She knew that Barbara would not come upstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -yet. She would have been afraid to masquerade -before her. She put her looking-glass on a chair, so that -she might see herself better in it. Then she took the timbrel, -and poised herself on one foot, and held the instrument -over her head, and lightly tingled the little bells. -She had put on the blue turquoise ring. She looked at it, -kissed it, waved that hand, and rattled the tambourine, -but not so loud that Barbara might hear. Eve was quite -happy thus amusing herself. Her only disappointment -was that she had not more such dresses to try on.</p> - -<p>All at once she started, stood still, turned and uttered -a cry of terror. She had been posturing hitherto with her -back to the window. A noise at it made her look round. -She saw, seated in it, with his short legs inside, and his -hands grasping the stone mullions—a small dark figure.</p> - -<p>‘Well done, Eve! Well done, Zerlina!</p> - -<p class="pp7 p1">Là ci darem la mano,<br /> -Là mi dirai di si!’</p> - -<p class="p1">Then the boy laughed maliciously; he enjoyed her confusion -and alarm.</p> - -<p>‘The weak-eyed Leah is away, quieting Laban,’ he -said; ‘Leah shall have her Jacob, but Rachel shall get -Esau, the gay, the handsome, whose hand is against every -man, or rather one against whom every man’s hand is -raised. I am going to jump into your room.’</p> - -<p>‘Keep away!’ cried Eve in the greatest alarm.</p> - -<p>‘If you cry out, if you rouse Leah and bring her here, -I will make such a hooting and howling as will kill the -old man downstairs with fear.’</p> - -<p>‘In pity go. What do you want?’ asked Eve, backing -from the window to the farthest wall.</p> - -<p>‘Take care! Do not run out of the room. If you attempt -it, I will jump in, and make my fiddle squeal, and -caper about, till even the sober Barbara—Leah I mean—will -believe that devils have taken possession, and as for -the old man, he will give up his ghost to them without a -protest.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I entreat you—I implore you—go!’ pleaded Eve, -with tears of alarm in her eyes, cowering back against the -wall, too frightened even to think of the costume she -wore.</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ jeered the impish boy. ‘Run along down into -the room where your sister is reading and praying with the -old man, and what will they suppose but that a crazy -opera-dancer has broken loose from her caravan and is -rambling over the country.’</p> - -<p>He chuckled, he enjoyed her terror.</p> - -<p>‘Do you know how I have managed to get this little -talk with you uninterrupted? I hooted in at the window -of your father, and when he woke made faces at him. Then -he screamed for help, and Barbara went to him. Now -here am I; I scrambled up the old pear-tree trained -against the wall. What is it, a Chaumontel or a Jargonelle? -It can’t be a Bon Chrétien, or it would not have -borne me.’</p> - -<p>Eve’s face was white, her eyes were wide with terror, her -hands behind her scrabbled at the wall, and tore the paper. -‘Oh, what do you want? Pray, pray go!’</p> - -<p>‘I will come in at the window, I will caper and whistle, -and scream and fiddle. I will jump on the bed and kick -all the clothes this way, that way. I will throw your Sunday -frock out of the window; I will smash the basin and -water-bottle, and glass and jug. I will throw the mirror -against the wall; I will tear down the blinds and curtains, -and drive the curtain-pole through the windows; I will -throw your candle into the heap of clothes and linen and -curtain, and make a blaze which will burn the room and -set the house flaming, unless you make me a solemn promise. -I have a message for you from poor Martin. Poor -Martin! his heart is breaking. He can think only of lovely -Eve. As soon as the sun sets be on the Raven Rock to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot. Do leave the window.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well,’ said the boy, ‘in ten minutes the house<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -will be on fire. I am coming in; you run away. I shall -lock you out, and before you have got help together the -room will be in a blaze.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you want? I will promise anything to be -rid of you.’</p> - -<p>‘Promise to be on the Raven Rock to-morrow evening.’</p> - -<p>‘Why must I be there?’</p> - -<p>‘Because I have a message to give you there.’</p> - -<p>‘Give it me now.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot; it is too long. That sister of yours will -come tumbling in on us with a Roley-poley, gammon and -spinach, Heigh-ho! says Anthony Roley, oh!’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes! I will promise.’</p> - -<p>Instantly he slipped his leg out, she saw only the hands -on the bottom of the window. Then up came the boy’s -queer face again, that he might make grimaces at her and -shake his fist, and point to candle, and bed, and garments, -and curtains: and then, in a moment, he was gone.</p> - -<p>Some minutes elapsed before Eve recovered courage to -leave her place, shut her window, and take off the tawdry -dress in which she had disguised herself.</p> - -<p>She heard the voices of the servant maids returning -along the lane. Soon after Barbara came upstairs. She -found her sister sitting on the bed.</p> - -<p>‘What is it, Eve? You look white and frightened.’</p> - -<p>Eve did not answer.</p> - -<p>‘What is the matter, dear? Have you been alarmed -at anything?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Bab,’ in a faint voice.</p> - -<p>‘Did you see anything from your window?’</p> - -<p>‘I think so.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot understand,’ said Barbara. ‘I also fancied I -saw a dark figure dart across the garden and leap the wall -whilst I was reading to papa. I can’t say, because there -was a candle in our room.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t you think,’ said Eve, in a faltering voice, ‘it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -may have been Joseph Woodman parting with Jane?’ -Eve’s cheeks coloured as she said this; she was false with -her sister.</p> - -<p>Barbara shook her head, and went into her own room. -‘He has gone,’ she thought, ‘because the house is watched, -his whereabouts has been discovered. I am glad he is -gone. It is best for himself, for Eve’—after a pause—’and -for me.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c179" id="c179">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">POOR MARTIN.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Eve</span> was uneasy all next day—at intervals—she could do -nothing continuously—because of her promise. The recollection -that she had bound herself to meet Watt on the -Raven Rock at sundown came on her repeatedly during -the day, spoiling her happiness. She would not have -scrupled to fail to keep her promise, but that the horrible -boy would be sure to force himself upon her, and in revenge -do some dreadful mischief. She was so much afraid of -him, that she felt that to keep her appointment was the -lesser evil.</p> - -<p>As the sun declined her heart failed her, and just before -the orb set in bronze and gold, she asked Jane, the housemaid, -to accompany her through the fields to the Raven -Rock.</p> - -<p>Timid Eve dare not trust herself alone on the dangerous -platform with that imp. He was capable of any devilry. -He might scare her out of her wits.</p> - -<p>Jane was a good-natured girl, and she readily obliged -her young mistress. Jane Welsh’s mother, who was a -widow, lived not far from Morwell, in a cottage on the -banks of the Tamar, higher up, where a slip of level -meadow ran out from the cliffs, and the river made a loop -round it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<p>As Eve walked through the fields towards the wood, -and neared the trees and rocks, she began to think that she -had made a mistake. It would not do for Jane to see -Watt. She would talk about him, and Barbara would -hear, and question her. If Barbara asked her why she -had gone out at dusk to meet the boy, what answer could -she make?</p> - -<p>When Eve came to the gate into the wood, she stood -still, and holding the gate half open, told Jane she might -stay there, for she would go on by herself.</p> - -<p>Jane was surprised.</p> - -<p>‘Please, Miss, I’ve nothing to take me back to the -house.’ Eve hastily protested that she did not want her -to return: she was to remain at the gate—’And if I call—come -on to me, Jane, not otherwise. I have a headache, -and I want to be alone.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well, Miss.’</p> - -<p>But Jane was puzzled, and said to herself, ‘There’s a -lover, sure as eggs in April.’</p> - -<p>Then Eve closed the gate between herself and Jane, -and went on. Before disappearing into the shade of the -trees, she looked back, and saw the maid where she had -left her, plaiting grass.</p> - -<p>A lover! A lover is the philosopher’s stone that turns -the sordid alloy of life into gold. The idea of a lover was -the most natural solution of the caprice in Miss Eve’s -conduct. As every road loads to Rome, so in the servant-maid -mind does every line of life lead to a sweetheart.</p> - -<p>Jane, having settled that her young mistress had gone -on to meet a lover, next questioned who that lover could -be, and here she was utterly puzzled. Sure enough Miss -Eve had been to a dance at the Cloberrys’, but whom she -had met there, and to whom lost her heart, that Jane did -not know, and that also Jane was resolved to ascertain.</p> - -<p>She noiselessly unhasped the gate, and stole along the -path. The burnished brazen sky of evening shone between -the tree trunks, but the foliage had lost its verdure in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -gathering dusk. The honeysuckles poured forth their -scent in waves. The air near the hedge and deep into the -wood was honeyed with it. White and yellow speckled -currant moths were flitting about the hedge. Jane stole -along, stealthily, from tree to tree, fearful lest Eve should -turn and catch her spying. A large Scotch pine cast a -shadow under it like ink. On reaching that, Jane knew -she could see the top of the Raven Rock.</p> - -<p>As she thus advanced on tiptoe she heard a rustling, -as of a bird in the tree overhead. Her heart stood still. -Then, before she had time to recover herself, with a shrill -laugh, a little black figure came tumbling down before her -out of the tree, capered, leaped at her, threw his arms -round her neck, and screamed into her face, ‘Carry me! -Carry me! Carry me!’</p> - -<p>Then his arms relaxed, he dropped off, shrieking with -laughter, and Jane fled, as fast as her limbs could bear her, -back to the gate, through the gate and away over the -meadows to Morwell House.</p> - -<p>Eve had gone on to the platform of rock; she stood -there irresolute, hoping that the detested boy would not -appear, when she heard his laugh and shout, and the -scream of Jane. She would have fainted with terror, had -not at that moment a tall man stepped up to her and laid -his hand on her arm. ‘Do not be afraid, sweet fairy Eve! -It is I—your poor slave Martin,—perfectly bewitched, -drawn back by those loadstone eyes. Do not be frightened, -Watt is merely giving a scare to the inquisitive servant.’</p> - -<p>Eve was trembling violently. This was worse than -meeting the ape of a boy. She had committed a gross -indiscretion. What would Barbara say?—her father, if -he heard of it, how vexed he would be!</p> - -<p>‘I must go back,’ she said, with a feeble effort at -dignity. ‘This is too bad; I have been deceived.’ Then -she gave way to weakness, and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>‘No,’ he said carelessly, ‘you shall not go. I will not -suffer you to escape now that I have a chance of seeing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -you and speaking with you. To begin at the beginning—I -love you. There! you are all of a tremble. Sit down -and listen to what I have to say. You will not? Well, -consider. I run terrible risks by being here; I may say -that I place my life in your delicate hands.’</p> - -<p>She looked up at him, still too frightened to speak, even -to comprehend his words.</p> - -<p>‘I do not know you!’ she whispered, when she was -able to gather together the poor remnants of her strength.</p> - -<p>‘You remember me. I have your ring, and you have -mine. We are, in a manner, bound to each other. Be -patient, dear love; listen to me. I will tell you all my -story.’</p> - -<p>He saw that she was in no condition to be pressed. If -he spoke of love she would make a desperate effort to -escape. Weak and giddy though she was, she would not -endure that from a man of whom she knew nothing. He -saw that. He knew he must give her time to recover from -her alarm, so he said, ‘I wish, most beautiful fairy, you -would rest a few minutes on this piece of rock. I am a -poor, hunted, suffering, misinterpreted wretch, and I come -to tell you my story, only to entreat your sympathy and -your prayers. I will not say a rude word, I will not lay -a finger on you. All I ask is: listen to me. That cannot -hurt you. I am a beggar, a beggar whining at your feet, -not asking for more alms than a tear of pity. Give me -that, that only, and I go away relieved.’</p> - -<p>She seemed somewhat reassured, and drew a long -breath.</p> - -<p>‘I had a sister of your name.’</p> - -<p>She raised her head, and looked at him with surprise.</p> - -<p>‘It is an uncommon name. My poor sister is gone. -I suppose it is your name that has attracted me to you, -that induces me to open my heart to you. I mean to -confide to you my troubles. You say that you do not -know me. I will tell you all my story, and then, sweet -Eve, you will indeed know me, and, knowing me, will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -shower tears of precious pity, that will infinitely console -me.’</p> - -<p>She was still trembling, but flattered, and relieved -that he asked for nothing save sympathy. That of course -she was at liberty to bestow on a deserving object. She -was wholly inexperienced, easily deceived by flattery.</p> - -<p>‘Have I frightened you?’ asked Martin. ‘Am I so -dreadful, so unsightly an object as to inspire you with -aversion and terror?’ He drew himself up and paused. -Eve hastily looked at him. He was a strikingly handsome -man, with dark hair, wonderful dark eyes, and finely -chiselled features.</p> - -<p>‘I said that I put my life in your hands. I spoke the -truth. You have but to betray me, and the police and -the parish constables will come in a <i>posse</i> after me. I will -stand here with folded arms to receive them; but mark -my words, as soon as they set foot on this rock, I will -fling myself over the edge and perish. If <i>you</i> sacrifice -me, my life is not worth saving.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not betray you,’ faltered Eve.</p> - -<p>‘I know it. You are too noble, too true, too heroic to -be a traitress. I knew it when I came here and placed -myself at your mercy.’</p> - -<p>‘But,’ said Eve timidly, ‘what have you done? You -have taken my ring. Give it back to me, and I will not -send the constables after you.’</p> - -<p>‘You have mine.’</p> - -<p>‘I will return it.’</p> - -<p>‘About that hereafter,’ said Martin grandly, and he -waved his hand. ‘Now I answer your question, What -have I done? I will tell you everything. It is a long -story and a sad one. Certain persons come out badly in it -whom I would spare. But it may not be otherwise. Self-defence -is the first law of nature. You have, no doubt, -heard a good deal about me, and not to my advantage. I -have been prejudiced in your eyes by Jasper. He is narrow, -does not make allowances, has never recovered the straitlacing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -father gave him as a child. His conscience has not -expanded since infancy.’</p> - -<p>Eve looked at Martin with astonishment.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper Babb has not said anything—’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, there!’ interrupted Martin, ‘you may spare your -sweet lips the fib. I know better than that. He grumbles -and mumbles about me to everyone who will open an ear -to his tales. If he were not my brother——’</p> - -<p>Now Eve interrupted him. ‘Mr. Jasper your brother!’</p> - -<p>‘Of course he is. Did he not tell you so?’ He saw -that she had not known by the expression of her face, so, -with a laugh, he said, ‘Oh dear, no! Of course Jasper -was too grand and sanctimonious a man to confess to the -blot in the family. I am that blot—look at me!’</p> - -<p>He showed his handsome figure and face by a theatrical -gesture and position. ‘Poor Martin is the blot, to which -Jasper will not confess, and yet—Martin survives this -neglect and disrespect.’</p> - -<p>The overweening vanity, the mock humility, the assurance -of the man passed unnoticed by Eve. She breathed -freely when she heard that he was the brother of Jasper. -There could have been no harm in an interview with -Jasper, and consequently very little in one with his brother. -So she argued, and so she reconciled herself to the situation. -Now she traced a resemblance between the brothers -which had escaped her before; they had the same large dark -expressive eyes, but Jasper’s face was not so regular, his -features not so purely chiselled as those of Martin. He -was broader built; Martin had the perfect modelling of a -Greek statue. There was also a more manly, self-confident -bearing in Martin than in the elder brother, who -always appeared bowed as with some burden that oppressed -his spirits, and took from him self-assertion and buoyancy, -that even maimed his vigour of manhood.</p> - -<p>‘I dare say you have had a garbled version of my story, -continued Martin, seating himself; and Eve, without considering, -seated herself also. Martin let himself down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -gracefully, and assumed a position where the evening light, -still lingering in the sky, could irradiate his handsome face. -‘That is why I have sought this interview. I desired to -put myself right with you. No doubt you have heard that -I got into trouble.’</p> - -<p>She shook her head.</p> - -<p>‘Well, I did. I was unlucky. In fact, I could stay -with my father no longer. I had already left him for a -twelvemonth, but I came back, and, in Scriptural terms, -such as he could understand, asked him to give me the -portion of goods that fell to me. He refused, so I took it.’</p> - -<p>‘Took—took what?’</p> - -<p>‘My portion of goods, not in stock but in money. For -my part,’ said Martin, folding his arms, ‘it has ever struck -me that the Prodigal Son was far the nobler of the brothers. -The eldest was a mean fellow, the second had his faults—I -admit it—but he was a man of independence of action; he -would not stand being bullyragged by his father, so he -went away. I got into difficulties over that matter. My -father would not overlook it, made a fuss, and so on. My -doctrine is: Let bygones be bygones, and accept what -comes and don’t kick. That my father could not see, and -so I got locked up.’</p> - -<p>‘Locked up—where?’</p> - -<p>‘In a pill-box. I managed, however, to escape; I am -at large, and at your feet—entreating you to pity me.’</p> - -<p>He suited the action to the word. In a moment he -was gracefully kneeling before her on one knee, with his -hand on his heart.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Miss Eve,’ he said, ‘since I saw your face in the -moonlight I have never forgotten it. Wherever I went it -haunted me. I saw these great beautiful eyes looking -timidly into mine; by day they eclipsed the sun. Whatever -I did I thought only of you. And now—what is it that I -ask of you? Nothing but forgiveness. The money—the -portion of goods that fell to me—was yours. My father -owed it to you. It was intended for you. But now, hear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -me, you noble, generous-spirited girl; I have borrowed the -money, it shall be returned—or its equivalent. If you desire -it, I will swear.’ He stood up and assumed an attitude.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, no!’ said Eve; ‘you had my money?’</p> - -<p>‘As surely as I had your ring.’</p> - -<p>‘Much in the same way,’ she said, with a little sharpness.</p> - -<p>‘But I shall return one with the other. Trust me. -Stand up; look me in the face. Do I bear tho appearance -of a cheat, a thief, a robber? Am I base, villanous! No, -I am nothing but a poor, foolish, prodigal lad, who has got -into a scrape, but will get out of it again. You forgive me. -Hark! I hear someone calling.’</p> - -<p>‘It is Barbara. She is looking for me.’</p> - -<p>‘Then I disappear.’ He put his hand to his lips, -wafted her a kiss, whispered ‘When you look at the ring, -remember poor—poor Martin,’ and he slipped away among -the bushes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c186" id="c186">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">FATHER AND SON.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> was mistaken. Jasper had gone to Buckfastleigh, -gone openly to his father’s house, in the belief that his -father was dying. He knocked at the blotched and scaled -door under the dilapidated portico, but received no answer. -He tried the door. It was locked and barred. Then he -went round to the back, noting how untidy the garden was, -how out of repair was the house; and in the yard of the -kitchen he found the deaf housekeeper. His first question, -shouted into her ear, naturally was an inquiry after his -father. He learned to his surprise that the old man was -not ill, but was then in the factory. Thinking that his -question had been misunderstood, he entered the house, -went into his father’s study, then up to his bedroom, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -through the dirty window-panes saw the old man leaving -the mill on his way back to the house.</p> - -<p>What, then, had Watt meant by sending him to the -old home on false tidings? The boy was indeed mischievous, -but this was more than common mischief. He must -have sent him on a fool’s errand for some purpose of his -own. That the boy wanted to hear news of his father was -possible, but not probable. The only other alternative -Jasper could suggest to explain Watt’s conduct was the -disquieting one that he wanted to be rid of Jasper from -Morwell for some purpose of his own. What could that -purpose be?</p> - -<p>Jasper’s blood coursed hot through his veins. He was -angry. He was a forbearing man, ready always to find an -excuse for a transgressor, but this was a transgression too -malicious to be easily forgiven. Jasper determined, now -that he was at home, to see his father, and then to return -to the Jordans as quickly as he could. He had ridden his -own horse, that horse must have a night’s rest, but to-morrow -he would return.</p> - -<p>He was thus musing when Mr. Babb came in.</p> - -<p>‘You here!’ said the old man. ‘What has brought -you to Buckfastleigh again? Want money, of course.’ -Then snappishly, ‘You shan’t get it.’</p> - -<p>‘I am come,’ said his son, ‘because I had received information -that you were ill. Have you been unwell, -father?’</p> - -<p>‘I—no! I’m never ill. No such luck for you. If -I were ill and helpless, you might take the management, -you think. If I were dead, that would be nuts to -you.’</p> - -<p>‘My father, you wrong me. I left you because I would -no longer live this wretched life, and because I hate your -unforgiving temper.’</p> - -<p>‘Unforgiving!’ sneered the old manufacturer. ‘Martin -was a thief, and he deserved his fate. Is not Brutus applauded -because he condemned his own son? Is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -David held to be weak because he bade Joab spare Absalom?’</p> - -<p>‘We will not squeeze old crushed apples. No juice -will run from them,’ replied Jasper. ‘The thing was -done, and might have been forgiven. I would not have -returned now had I not been told that you were dying.’</p> - -<p>‘Who told you that lie?’</p> - -<p>‘Walter.’</p> - -<p>‘He! He was ever a liar, a mocker, a blasphemer! -How was he to know? I thank heaven he has not shown -his jackanapes visage here since he left. I dying! I never -was sounder. I am better in health and spirits since I am -quit of my sons. They vexed my righteous soul every day -with their ungodly deeds. So you supposed I was dying, -and came here to see what meat could be picked off your -father’s bones?’</p> - -<p>Jasper remembered Watt’s sneer. It was clear whence -the boy had gathered his mean views of men’s motives.</p> - -<p>‘I’ll trouble you to return whence you came,’ said -Ezekiel Babb. ‘No blessing has rested on me since I -brought the strange blood into the house. Now that all -of you are gone—you, Eve number one, and Eve number -two, Martin and Walter—I am well. The Son of Peace -has returned to this house; I can read my Bible and do -my accounts in quiet, without fears of what new bit of mischief -or devilry my children have been up to, without any -more squeaking of fiddles and singing of profane songs all -over the house. Come now!’—the old man raised his -bushy brows and flashed a cunning, menacing glance at -his son—’come now! if you had found me dead—in -Abraham’s bosom—what would you have done? I know -what Walter would have done: he would have capered -up and down all over the house, fiddling like a devil, -like a devil as he is.’ He looked at Jasper again, inquisitively. -‘Well, what would you have done?—fiddled -too?’</p> - -<p>‘My father, as you desire to know, I will tell you. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -would at once have realised what I could, and have cleared -off the debt to Mr. Jordan.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, you may do that when the day comes,’ said the -old manufacturer, shrugging his shoulders. ‘It is nothing -to me what you do with the mill and the house and the -land after I am’—he turned up his eyes to the dirty ceiling—’where -the wicked cease from fiddling and no thieves -break in and steal. I am not going to pay the money -twice over. My obligation ended when the money went -out of this house. I did more than I was required. I -chastised my own son for taking it. What was seven years -on Dartmoor? A flea-bite. Under the old law the rebellious -son was stoned till he died. I suppose, now, you are -hungry. Call the old crab; kick her, pinch her, till she -understands, and let her give you something to eat. There -are some scraps, I know, of veal-pie and cold potatoes. I -think, by the way, the veal-pie is done. Don’t forget to -ask a blessing before you fall-to on the cold potatoes.’ -Then he rubbed his forehead and said, ‘Stay, I’ll go and -rouse the old toad myself; you stay here. You are the -best of my children. All the rest were a bad lot—too -much of the strange blood in them.’</p> - -<p>Whilst Mr. Babb is rousing his old housekeeper to produce -some food, we will say a few words of the past history -of the Babb family.</p> - -<p>Eve the first, Mr. Babb’s wife, had led a miserable life. -She did not run away from him: she remained and poured -forth the fiery love of her heart upon her children, especially -on her eldest, a daughter, Eve, to whom she talked -of her old life—its freedom, its happiness, its attractions. -She died of a broken spirit on the birth of her third son, -Walter. Then Eve, the eldest, a beautiful girl, unable to -endure the bad temper of her father, the depressing atmosphere -of the house, and the cares of housekeeping imposed -on her, ran away after a travelling band of actors.</p> - -<p>Jasper, the eldest son, grew up to be grave and resigned. -He was of use in the house, managing it as far as he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -allowed, and helping his father in many ways. But the -old man, who had grumbled at and insulted his wife whilst -she was alive, could not keep his tongue from the subject -that still rankled in his heart. This occasioned quarrels; -the boy took his mother’s side, and refused to bear his -father’s gibes at her memory. He was passionately attached -to his next brother Martin. The mother had -brought a warm, loving spirit into the family, and Jasper -had inherited much of it. He stood as a screen between -his brother and father, warding off from the former many -a blow and angry reprimand. He did Martin’s school -tasks for him; he excused his faults; he admired him for -his beauty, his spirit, his bearing, his lively talk. There -was no lad, in his opinion, who could equal Martin; Watt -was right when he said that Jasper had contributed to his -ruin by humouring him, but Jasper humoured him because -he loved him, and pitied him for the uncongeniality -of his home. Martin displayed a talent for music, and -there was an old musician at Ashburton, the organist of -the parish church, who developed and cultivated his talent, -and taught him both to play and sing. Jasper had also an -instinctive love of music, and he also learned the violin -and surpassed his brother, who had not the patience to -master the first difficulties, and who preferred to sing.</p> - -<p>The father, perhaps, saw in Martin a recrudescence of -the old proclivities of his mother; he tried hard to interfere -with his visits to the musician, and only made Martin -more set on his studies with him. But the most implacable, -incessant state of war was that which raged between -the old father and his youngest son, Walter, or Watt as -his brothers called him. This boy had no reverence in -him. He scouted the authority of his father and of Jasper. -He scoffed at everything the old man held sacred. He absolutely -refused to go to the Baptist Chapel frequented by -his father, he stopped his ears and made grimaces at his -brothers and the servants during family worship, and the -devotions were not unfrequently concluded with a rush of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -the old man at his youngest son and the administration of -resounding clouts on the ears.</p> - -<p>At last a quarrel broke out between them of so fierce a -nature that Watt was expelled the house. Then Martin -left to follow Watt, who had joined a travelling dramatic -company. After a year, however, Martin returned, very -thin and woe-begone, and tried to accommodate himself to -home-life once more. But it was not possible; he had -tasted of the sort of life that suited him—one rambling, -desultory, artistic. He robbed his father’s bureau and ran -away.</p> - -<p>Then it was that he was taken, and in the same week -sent to the assizes, and condemned to seven years’ penal -labour in the convict establishment at Prince’s Town. -Thence he had escaped, assisted by Jasper and Watt, whilst -the former was on his way to Morwell with the remnant of -the money recovered from Martin.</p> - -<p>The rest is known to the reader.</p> - -<p>Whilst Jasper ate the mean meal provided for him, his -father watched him.</p> - -<p>‘So,’ said the old man, and the twinkle was in his -cunning eyes, ‘so you have hired yourself to Mr. Ignatius -Jordan at Morwell as his steward?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, father. I remain there as pledge to him that -he shall be repaid, and I am doing there all I can to -put the estate into good order. It has been shockingly -neglected.’</p> - -<p>‘Who for?’ asked Mr. Babb.</p> - -<p>‘I do not understand.’</p> - -<p>‘For whom are you thus working?’</p> - -<p>‘For Mr. Jordan, as you said!’</p> - -<p>The manufacturer chuckled.</p> - -<p>‘Jasper,’ said he, ‘some men look on a pool and see -nothing but water. I put my head in, open my eyes, and -see what is at the bottom. That girl did not come here for -nothing. I put my head under water and opened my -eyes.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Well?’ said Jasper, with an effort controlling his irritation.</p> - -<p>‘Well! I saw it all under the surface. I saw you. She -came here because she was curious to see the factory and -the house, and to know if all was as good as you had -bragged about. I gave her a curt dismissal; I do not want -a daughter-in-law thrusting her feet into my shoes till I -cast them off for ever.’</p> - -<p>Jasper started to his feet and upset his chair. He was -very angry. ‘You utterly wrong her,’ he said. ‘You -open your eyes in mud, and see only dirt. Miss Jordan -came here out of kindness towards me, whom she dislikes -and despises in her heart.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Babb chuckled.</p> - -<p>‘Well, I won’t say that you have not acted wisely. -Morwell will go to that girl, and it is a pretty property.’</p> - -<p>‘I beg your pardon, you are wrong. It is left to the -second—Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘So, so! It goes to Eve! That is why the elder -girl came here, to see if she could fit herself into Owlacombe.’</p> - -<p>Jasper’s face burnt, and the muscles of his head and -neck quivered, but he said nothing. He dared not trust -himself to speak. He had all his life practised self-control, -but he never needed it more than at this moment.</p> - -<p>‘I see it all,’ pursued the old man, his crafty face contracting -with a grin; ‘Mr. Jordan thought to provide for -both his daughters. Buckfast mill and Owlacombe for the -elder, Morwell for the younger—ha, ha! The elder to take -you so as to get this pretty place. And she came to look -at it and see if it suited her. Well! It is a pretty place—only,’ -he giggled, ‘it ain’t vacant and to be had just -yet.’</p> - -<p>Jasper took his hat; his face was red as blood, and his -dark eyes flashed.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t go,’ said the old manufacturer; ‘you did not -see their little trap and walked into it, eh? One word of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -warning I must give you. Don’t run after the younger; -Eve is your niece.’</p> - -<p>‘Father!’</p> - -<p>‘Ah! that surprises you, does it? It is true. Eve’s -mother was your sister. Did Mr. Jordan never tell you -that?’</p> - -<p>‘Never!’</p> - -<p>‘It is true. Sit down again to the cold potatoes. You -shall know all, but first ask a blessing.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c193" id="c193">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">HUSH-MONEY.</p> - -<p class="pn">‘<span class="smcap">Yes</span>,’ said Mr. Babb, settling himself on a chair; then -finding he had sat on the tails of his coat, he rose, held a -tail in each hand, and reseated himself between them; -‘yes.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you mean seriously to tell me that Mr. Jordan’s -second wife was my sister?’</p> - -<p>‘Well—in a way. That is, I don’t mean your sister in -a way, but his wife in a way.’</p> - -<p>‘I have heard nothing of this; what do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘I mean that he did not marry her.’</p> - -<p>Jasper Babb’s face darkened. ‘I have been in his -house and spoken to him, and not known that. What became -of my sister?’</p> - -<p>The old man fidgeted on his chair. It was not comfortable. -‘I’m sure I don’t know,’ he said.</p> - -<p>‘Did she die?’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ said Mr. Babb, ‘she ran off with a play-actor.’</p> - -<p>‘Well—and after that?’</p> - -<p>‘After what? After the play-actor? I do not know, I -have not heard of her since. I don’t want to. Was not -that enough?’</p> - -<p>‘And Mr. Jordan—does he know nothing?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I cannot tell. If you are curious to know you can -ask.’</p> - -<p>‘This is very extraordinary. Why did not Mr. Jordan -tell me the relationship? He knew who I was.’</p> - -<p>The old man laughed, and Jasper shuddered at his -laugh, there was something so base and brutal in it.</p> - -<p>‘He was not so proud of how he behaved to Eve as to -care to boast of the connection. You might not have liked -it, might have fizzed and gone pop.’</p> - -<p>Jasper’s brow was on fire, his eyebrows met, and a -sombre sparkle was in his eye.</p> - -<p>‘You have made no effort to trace her?’</p> - -<p>Mr. Babb shrugged his shoulders.</p> - -<p>‘Tell me,’ said Jasper, leaning his elbow on the table, -and putting his hand over his eyes to screen them from the -light, and allow him to watch his father’s face—’tell me -everything, as you undertook. Tell me how my poor sister -came to Morwell, and how she left it.’</p> - -<p>‘There is not much to tell,’ answered the father; ‘you -know that she ran away from home after her mother’s -death; you were then nine or ten years old. She hated -work, and lusted after the pomps and vanities of this -wicked world. After a while I heard where she was, that -she was ill, and had been taken into Morwell House to be -nursed, and that there she remained after her recovery.’</p> - -<p>‘Strange,’ mused Jasper; ‘she fell ill and was taken to -Morwell, and I—it was the same. Things repeat themselves; -the world moves in a circle.’</p> - -<p>‘Everything repeats itself. As in Eve’s case the sickness -led up to marriage, or something like it, so will it be -in your case. This is what Mr. Jordan and Eve did: they -went into the little old chapel, and took each other’s hands -before the altar, and swore fidelity to each other; that was -all. Mr. Jordan is a Catholic, and would not have the -knot tied by a church parson, and Eve would not confess -to her name, she had that sense of decency left in her. -They satisfied their consciences but it was no legal marriage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -I believe he would have done what was right, but -she was perverse, and refused to give her name, and say -both who she was and whence she came.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on,’ said Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘Well, then, about a year after this I heard where she -was, and I went after her to Morwell, but I did not go -openly—I had no wish to encounter Mr. Jordan. I tried -to persuade Eve to return with me to Buckfastleigh. Who -can lay to my charge that I am not a forgiving father? -Have I not given you cold potato, and would have furnished -you with veal pie if the old woman had not finished the -scraps? I saw Eve, and I told her my mind pretty freely, -both about her running away and about her connection -with Jordan. I will say this for her—she professed to be -sorry for what she had done, and desired my forgiveness. -That, I said, I would give her on one condition only, that -she forsook her husband and child, and came back to keep -house for me. I could not bring her to a decision, so I -appointed her a day, and said I would take her final answer -on that. But I was hindered going; I forget just now -what it was, but I couldn’t go that day.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, father, what happened?’</p> - -<p>‘As I could not keep my appointment—I remember -now how it was, I was laid up with a grip of lumbago at -Tavistock—I sent one of the actors there, from whom I -had heard about her, with a message. I had the lumbago -in my back that badly that I was bent double. When I -was able to go, on the morrow, it was too late; she was -gone.’</p> - -<p>‘Gone! Whither?’</p> - -<p>‘Gone off with the play-actor,’ answered Mr. Babb, -grimly. ‘It runs in the blood.’</p> - -<p>‘You are sure of this?’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jordan told me so.’</p> - -<p>‘Did you not pursue her?’</p> - -<p>‘To what end? I had done my duty. I had tried my -utmost to recover my daughter, and when for the second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -time she played me false, I wiped off the dust of my feet as -a testimony against her.’</p> - -<p>‘She left her child?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, she deserted her child as well as her husband—that -is to say, Mr. Ignatius Jordan. She deserted the house -that had sheltered her, to run after a homeless, bespangled, -bepainted play-actor. I know all about it. The life at -Morwell was too dull for her, it was duller there than at -Buckfastleigh. Here she could see something of the world; -she could watch the factory hands coming to their work -and leaving it; but there she was as much out of the world -as if she were in Lundy Isle. She had a hankering after -the glitter and paint of this empty world.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot believe this. I cannot believe that she would -desert the man who befriended her, and forsake her -child.’</p> - -<p>‘You say that because you did not know her. You -know Martin; would he not do it? You know Watt; has -he any scruples and strong domestic affections? She -was like them; had in her veins the same boiling, giddy, -wanton blood.’</p> - -<p>Jasper knew but too well that Martin and Watt were -unscrupulous, and followed pleasure regardless of the calls -of duty. He had been too young when his sister left home -to know anything of her character. It was possible that -she had the same light and careless temperament as -Martin.</p> - -<p>‘A horse that shies once will shy again,’ said the old -man. ‘Eve ran away from home once, and she ran away -from the second home. If she did not run away from -home a third time it probably was that she had none to -desert.’</p> - -<p>‘And Mr. Jordan knows nothing of her?’</p> - -<p>‘He lives too far from the stream of life to see the -broken dead things that drift down it.’</p> - -<p>Jasper considered. The flush of anger had faded from -his brow; an expression of great sadness had succeeded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -His hand was over his brow, but he was no longer intent -on his father’s face; his eyes rested on the table.</p> - -<p>‘I must find out something about my sister. It is too -horrible to think of our sister, our only sister, as a lost, -sunk, degraded thing.’</p> - -<p>He thought of Mr. Jordan, of his strange manner, his -abstracted look, his capricious temper. He did not believe -that the master of Morwell was in his sound senses. He -seemed to be a man whose mind had preyed on some great -sorrow till all nerve had gone out of it. What was that -sorrow? Once Barbara had said to him, in excuse for -some violence and rudeness in her father’s conduct, that -he had never got over the loss of Eve’s mother.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jordan was not easy about his treatment of my -daughter,’ said old Babb. ‘From what little I saw of him -seventeen years ago I take him to be a weak-spirited man. -He was in a sad take-on then at the loss of Eve, and -having a baby thrown on his hands unweaned. He offered -me the money I wanted to buy those fields for stretching -the cloth. You may be sure when a man presses money -on you, and is indifferent to interest, that he wants you to -forgive him something. He desired me to look over his -conduct to my daughter, and drop all inquiries. I dare say -they had had words, and then she was ready in her passion -to run away with the first vagabond who offered.’</p> - -<p>Then Jasper removed his hand from his face, and laid -one on the other upon the table. His face was now pale, -and the muscles set. His eyes looked steadily and sternly -at the mean old man, who averted his eyes from those of -his son.</p> - -<p>‘What is this? You took a bribe, father, to let the -affair remain unsifted! For the sake of a few acres of -meadow you sacrificed your child!’</p> - -<p>‘Fiddlesticks-ends,’ said the manufacturer. ‘I sacrificed -nothing. What could I do? If I ran after Eve and -found her in some harlequin and columbine booth, could -I force her to return? She had made her bed, and must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -lie on it. What could I gain by stirring in the matter? -Let sleeping dogs lie.’</p> - -<p>‘Father,’ said Jasper, very gravely, ‘the fact remains -that you took money that looks to me very much like a -bribe to shut your eyes.’</p> - -<p>‘Pshaw! pshaw! I had made up my mind. I was -full of anger against Eve. I would not have taken her -into my house had I met her. Fine scandals I should -have had with her there! Better let her run and disappear -in the mud, than come muddy into my parlour and -besmirch all the furniture and me with it, and perhaps -damage the business. These children of mine have eaten -sour grapes, and the parent’s teeth are set on edge. It -all comes’—the old man brought his fist down on the table—’of -my accursed folly in bringing strange blood into the -house, and now the chastisement is on me. Are you come -back to live with me, Jasper? Will you help me again in -the mill?’</p> - -<p>‘Never again, father, never,’ answered the young man, -standing up. ‘Never, after what I have just heard. I -shall do what I can to find my poor sister, Eve Jordan’s -mother. It is a duty—a duty your neglect has left to me; -a duty hard to take up after it has been laid aside for -seventeen years; a duty betrayed for a sum of money.’</p> - -<p>‘Pshaw!’ The old man put his hands in his pockets, -and walked about the room. He was shrunk with age; -his eagle profile was without beauty or dignity.</p> - -<p>Jasper followed him with his eye, reproachfully, sorrowfully.</p> - -<p>‘Father,’ he said, ‘it seems to me as if that money -was hush-money, and that you, by taking it, had brought -the blood of your child on your own head.’</p> - -<p>‘Blood! Fiddlesticks! Blood! There is no blood in -the case. If she chose to run, how was I to stop her? -Blood, indeed! Red raddle!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c199" id="c199">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BETRAYAL.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> came out on the platform of rock. Eve stood -before her trembling, with downcast eyes, conscious of -having done wrong, and of being put in a position from -which it was difficult to escape.</p> - -<p>Barbara had walked fast. She was hot and excited, -and her temper was roused. She loved Eve dearly, but -Eve tried her.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ she said sharply, ‘what is the meaning of this? -Who has been here with you?’</p> - -<p>The young girl hung her head.</p> - -<p>‘What is the meaning of this?’ she repeated, and -her tone of voice showed her irritation. Barbara had a -temper.</p> - -<p>Eve murmured an inarticulate reply.</p> - -<p>‘What is it? I cannot understand. Jane came tearing -home with a rhodomontade about a boy jumping down -on her from a tree, and I saw him just now at the gate -making faces at me. He put his fingers into his mouth, -hooted like an owl, and dived into the bushes. What is -the meaning of this?’</p> - -<p>Eve burst into tears, and hid her face on her sister’s -neck.</p> - -<p>‘Come, come,’ said Barbara, somewhat mollified, ‘I -must be told all. Your giddiness is leading you into a -hobble. Who was that on the rock with you? I caught -a glimpse of a man as I passed the Scotch fir, and I thought -the voice I heard was that of Jasper.’</p> - -<p>The girl still cried, cried out of confusion, because she -did not know how to answer her sister. She must not -tell the truth; the secret had been confided to her. Poor -Martin’s safety must not be jeopardised by her. Barbara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -was so hot, impetuous, and frank, that she might let out -about him, and so he might be arrested. What was she -to say and do?</p> - -<p>‘Come back with me,’ said Barbara, drawing her -sister’s hand through her arm. ‘Now, then, Eve, there -must be no secrets with me. You have no mother; I -stand to you in the place of mother and sister in one. -Was that Jasper?’</p> - -<p>Eve’s hand quivered on her sister’s arm; in a faint -voice she answered, ‘Yes, Barbara.’ Had Miss Jordan -looked round she would have seen her sister’s face crimson -with shame. But Barbara turned her eyes away to the -far-off pearly range of Cornish mountains, sighed, and -said nothing.</p> - -<p>The two girls walked together through the wood -without speaking till they came to the gate, and there -they entered the atmosphere of honeysuckle fragrance.</p> - -<p>‘Perhaps that boy thought he would scare me as he -scared Jane,’ said Barbara. ‘He was mistaken. Who -was he?’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper’s brother,’ answered Eve in a low tone. She -was full of sorrow and humiliation at having told Barbara -an untruth, her poor little soul was tossed with conflicting -emotions, and Barbara felt her emotion through the little -hand resting on her arm. Eve had joined her hands, so -that as she walked she was completely linked to her dear -elder sister.</p> - -<p>Presently Eve said timidly, ‘Bab, darling, it was not -Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘Who was the man then?’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot, I must not, tell.’</p> - -<p>‘That will do,’ said Barbara decidedly; ‘say no more -about it, Eve; I know that you met Jasper Babb and no -one else.’</p> - -<p>‘Well,’ whispered Eve, ‘don’t be cross with me. I -did not know he was there. I had no idea.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘It <i>was</i> Mr. Babb?’ asked Barbara, suddenly turning -and looking steadily at her.</p> - -<p>Here was an opportunity offered a poor, weak creature. -Eve trembled, and after a moment’s vacillation fell into -the pitfall unconsciously dug for her by her sister. ‘It -was Mr. Babb, dear Barbara.’</p> - -<p>Miss Jordan said no more, her bosom was heaving. -Perhaps she could not speak. She was angry, troubled, -distracted; angry at the gross imposition practised by -Jasper in pretending to leave the place, whilst lurking -about it to hold secret meetings with her sister; -troubled she was because she feared that Eve had -connived at his proceedings, and had lost her heart -to him—troubled also because she could not tell to what -this would lead; distracted she was, because she did not -know what steps to take. Before she reached home she -had made up her mind, and on reaching Morwell she acted -on it with promptitude, leaving Eve to go to her room or -stay below as suited her best.</p> - -<p>She went direct to her father. He was sitting up, -looking worse and distressed; his pale forehead was -beaded with perspiration; his shaking hand clutched the -table, then relaxed its hold, then clutched again.</p> - -<p>‘Are you feeling worse, papa?’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ he answered, without looking at her, but with his -dazed eyes directed through the window. ‘No—only for -black thoughts. They come flying to me. If you stand -at evening under a great rock, as soon as the sun sets you -see from all quarters the ravens flying towards it, uttering -doleful cries, and they enter into the clefts and disappear -for the night. The whole rock all night is alive with -ravens. So is it with me. As my day declines the sorrows -and black thoughts come back to lodge in me, and -torment me with their clawing and pecking and croaking. -There is no driving them away. They come back.’</p> - -<p>‘Dear papa,’ said Barbara, ‘I am afraid I must add to -them. I have something very unpleasant to communicate.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I suppose,’ said Mr. Jordan peevishly, ‘you are out of -coffee, or the lemons are mouldy, or the sheets have been -torn on the thorn hedge. These matters do not trouble -me.’ He signed with his finger. ‘They are like black -spots in the air, but instead of floating they fly, and they -all fly one way—towards me.’</p> - -<p>‘Father, I am afraid for Eve!’</p> - -<p>‘What?’ His face was full of terror. ‘What of her? -What is there to fear? Is she ill?’</p> - -<p>‘It is, dearest papa, as I foresaw. She has set her -heart on Mr. Jasper, and she meets him secretly. He -asked leave of you yesterday to go home to Buckfastleigh; -but he has not gone there. He has not left this neighbourhood. -He is secreting himself somewhere, and this -evening he met darling Eve on the Raven Rock, when he -knew you were here ill, and I was in the house with you.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot believe it,’ said Mr. Jordan, with every token -of distress, wiping his wet brow with his thin hands, clasping -his hands, plucking at his waistcoat, biting his quivering -lips.</p> - -<p>‘It is true, dearest papa. Eve took Jane with her as -far as the gate, and there an ugly boy, who, Eve tells me, -is Jasper’s brother, scared the girl away. I hurried off to -the Rock as soon as told of this, and I saw through an -opening of the trees someone with Eve, and heard a voice -like that of Mr. Jasper. When I charged Eve with having -met him, she could not deny it.’</p> - -<p>‘What does he want? Why did he ask to leave?’</p> - -<p>‘I can put but one interpretation on his conduct. I -have for some time suspected a growing attachment between -him and Eve. I suppose he knows that you never -would consent——’</p> - -<p>‘Never, never!’ He clenched his hands, raised them -over his head, uttered a cry, and dropped them.</p> - -<p>‘Do be careful, dear papa,’ said Barbara. ‘You forget -your wound; you must not raise your right arm.’</p> - -<p>‘It cannot be! It cannot be! Never, never!’ He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -was intensely moved, and paid no heed to his daughter’s -caution. She caught his right hand, held it between her -own firmly, and kissed it. ‘My God!’ cried the unhappy -man. ‘Spare me this! It cannot be! The black spots -come thick as rain.’ He waved his left hand as though -warding off something. ‘Not as rain—as bullets.’</p> - -<p>‘No, papa, as you say, it never, never can be.’</p> - -<p>‘Never!’ he said eagerly, his wild eyes kindling with -a lambent terror. ‘There stands between them a barrier -that must cut them off the one from the other for ever. -But of that you know nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘It is so,’ said Barbara; ‘there does stand an impassable -barrier between them. I know more than you suppose, -dear papa. Knowing what I do I have wondered at -your permitting his presence in this house.’</p> - -<p>‘You know?’ He looked at her, and pressed his brow. -‘And Eve, does she know?’</p> - -<p>‘She knows nothing,’ answered Barbara; ‘I alone—that -is, you and I together—alone know all about him. I -found out when he first came here, and was ill.’</p> - -<p>‘From anything he said?’</p> - -<p>‘No—I found a bundle of his clothes.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not understand.’</p> - -<p>‘It came about this way. There was a roll on the saddle -of his horse, and when I came to undo it, that I might put -it away, I found that it was a convict suit.’ Mr. Jordan -stared. ‘Yes!’ continued Barbara, speaking quickly, -anxious to get the miserable tale told. ‘Yes, papa, I -found the garments which betrayed him. When he came -to himself I showed them to him, and asked if they were -his. Afterwards I heard all the particulars: how he had -robbed his own father of the money laid by to repay you -an old loan, how his father had prosecuted him, and how -he had been sent to prison; how also he had escaped from -prison. It was as he was flying to the Tamar to cross it, -and get as far as he could from pursuit, that he met with -his accident, and remained here.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Merciful heaven!’ exclaimed Mr. Jordan; ‘you knew -all this, and never told me!’</p> - -<p>‘I told no one,’ answered Barbara, ‘because I promised -him that I would not betray him, and even now I would -have said nothing about it but that you tell me that you -know it as well as I. No,’ she added, after having drawn -a long breath, ‘no, not even after all the provocation he -has given would I betray him.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan looked as one dazed.</p> - -<p>‘Where then are these clothes—this convict suit?’</p> - -<p>‘In the garret. I hid them there.’</p> - -<p>‘Let me see them. I cannot yet understand.’</p> - -<p>Barbara left the room, and shortly returned with the -bundle. She unfolded it, and spread the garments before -her father. He rubbed his eyes, pressed his knuckles -against his temples, and stared at them with astonishment.</p> - -<p>‘So, then, it was he—Jasper Babb—who stole Eve’s -money?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, papa.’</p> - -<p>‘And he was taken and locked up for doing so—where?’</p> - -<p>‘In Prince’s Town prison.’</p> - -<p>‘And he escaped?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, papa. As I was on my way to Ashburton, I -passed through Prince’s Town, and thus heard of it.’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara! why did you keep this secret from me? If -I had known it, I would have run and taken the news -myself to the police and the warders, and have had him -recaptured whilst he was ill in bed, unable to escape.’</p> - -<p>It was now Barbara’s turn to express surprise.</p> - -<p>‘But, dear papa, what do you mean? You have told -me yourself that you knew all about Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘I knew nothing of this. My God! How thick the -black spots are, and how big and pointed!’</p> - -<p>‘Papa dear, what do you mean? You assured me -you knew everything.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I knew nothing of this. I had not the least suspicion.’</p> - -<p>‘But, papa’—Barbara was sick with terror—’you told -me that this stood as a bar between him and Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘No—Barbara. I said that there was a barrier, but -not this. Of this I was ignorant.’</p> - -<p>The room swam round with Barbara. She uttered a -faint cry, and put the back of her clenched hands against -her mouth to choke another rising cry. ‘I have betrayed -him! My God! My God! What have I done?’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c205" id="c205">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">CALLED TO ACCOUNT.</p> - -<p class="pn">‘<span class="smcap">Go</span>,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘bring Eve to me.’</p> - -<p>Barbara obeyed mechanically. She had betrayed Jasper. -Her father would not spare him. The granite walls -of Prince’s Town prison rose before her, in the midst of a -waste as bald as any in Greenland or Siberia. She called -her sister, bade her go into her father’s room, and then, -standing in the hall, placed her elbows on the window -ledge, and rested her brow and eyes in her palms. She -was consigning Jasper back to that miserable jail. She -was incensed against him. She knew that he was unworthy -of her regard, that he had forfeited all right to her -consideration, and yet—she pitied him. She could not -bring herself to believe that he was utterly bad; to send -him again to prison was to ensure his complete ruin.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said Mr. Jordan, when his youngest daughter -came timidly into the room, ‘tell me, whom did you meet -on the Raven Rock?’</p> - -<p>The girl hung her head and made no reply. She stood -as a culprit before a judge, conscious that his case is hopeless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ he said again, ‘I insist on knowing. Whom -did you meet?’</p> - -<p>She tried to speak, but something rose in her throat, -and choked her. She raised her eyes timidly to her father, -who had never, hitherto, spoken an angry word to her. -Tears and entreaty were in her eyes, but the room was -dark, night had fallen, and he could not see her face.</p> - -<p>‘Eve, tell me, was it Babb?’</p> - -<p>She burst into a storm of sobs, and threw herself on -her knees. ‘O papa! sweetest, dearest papa! Do not -ask me! I must not tell. I promised him not to say. It -is as much as his life is worth. He says he never will be -taken alive. If it were known that he was here the police -would be after him. Papa dear!’ she clasped and fondled, -and kissed his hand, she bathed it in her tears, ‘do not be -angry with me. I can bear anything but that. I do love -you so, dear, precious papa!’</p> - -<p>‘My darling,’ he replied, ‘I am not angry. I am -troubled. I am on a rock and hold you in my arms, and -the black sea is rising—I can feel it. Leave me alone, I -am not myself.’</p> - -<p>An hour later Barbara came in.</p> - -<p>‘What, papa—without a light?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes—it is dark everywhere, within as without. The -black spots have run one into another and filled me. It -will be better soon. When Jasper Babb shows his face -again, he shall be given up.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa, let him escape this time. All we now want -is to get him away from this place, away from Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘All we now want!’ repeated Mr. Jordan. ‘Let the -man off who has beggared Eve!’</p> - -<p>‘Papa, Eve will be well provided for.’</p> - -<p>‘He has robbed her.’</p> - -<p>‘But, dear papa, consider. He has been your guest. -He has worked for you, he has eaten at your table, partaken -of your salt. When you were hurt, he carried you -to your bed. He has been a devoted servant to you.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘We are quits,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘He was nursed -when he was ill. That makes up for all the good he has -done me. Then there is that other account which can -never be made up.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure, papa, he repents.’</p> - -<p>‘And tries to snatch away Eve, as he has snatched -away her fortune?’</p> - -<p>‘Papa, there I think he may be excused. Consider how -beautiful Eve is. It is quite impossible for a man to see -her and not love her. I do not myself know what love is, -but I have read about it, and I have fancied to myself what -it is—a kind of madness that comes on one, and obscures -the judgment. I do not believe that Mr. Jasper had any -thought of Eve at first, but little by little she won him. -You know, papa, how she has run after him, like a kitten; -and so she has stolen his heart out of his breast before he -knew what she was about. Then, after that, everything—honour, -duty went. I dare say it is very hard for one who -loves to think calmly and act conscientiously! Would you -like the lights brought in, papa?’</p> - -<p>He shook his head.</p> - -<p>‘You must not remain up longer than you can bear,’ -she said. She took a seat on a stool, and leaned her head -on her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. ‘Papa, whilst -I have been waiting in the hall, I have turned the whole -matter over and over in my mind. Papa, I suppose that -Eve’s mother was very, very beautiful?’</p> - -<p>He sighed in the dark and put his hands together. -The pale twilight through the window shone on them; -they were white and ghost-like.</p> - -<p>‘Papa dear, I suppose that you saw her when she was -ill every day, and got to love her. I dare say you struggled -against the feeling, but your heart was too strong for your -head and carried your resolutions away, just as I have seen -a flood on the Tamar against the dam at Abbotswear; it -has burst through all obstructions, and in a moment every -trace of the dam has disappeared. You were under the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -same roof with her. Then there came a great ache here’—she -touched her heart—’allowing you no rest. Well, -dear papa, I think it must have been so with Mr. Babb, -he saw our dear sweet Eve daily, and love for her swelled -in his heart; he formed the strongest resolutions, and -platted them with the toughest considerations, and stamped -and wedged them in with vigorous effort, but all was of no -avail—the flood rose and burst over it and carried all -away.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan was touched by the allusion to his dead or -lost wife, but not in the manner Barbara intended.</p> - -<p>‘I have heard,’ continued Barbara, ‘that Eve’s mother -was brought to this house very ill, and that you cared for -her till she was recovered. Was it in this room? Was it -in this bed?’</p> - -<p>She heard a low moan, and saw the white hands raised -in deprecation, or in prayer.</p> - -<p>‘Then you sat here and watched her; and when she -was in fever you suffered; when her breath came so faint -that you thought she was dying, your very soul stood on -tiptoe, agonised. When her eyes opened with reason in -them, your heart leaped. When she slept, you sat here -with your eyes on her face and could not withdraw them. -Perhaps you took her hand in the night, when she was -vexed with horrible dreams, and the pulse of your heart -sent its waves against her hot, tossing, troubled heart, and -little by little cooled that fire, and brought peace to that -unrest. Papa, I dare say that somehow thus it came -about that Eve got interested in Mr. Jasper and grew to -love him. I often let her take my place when he was ill. -You must excuse dearest Eve. It was my fault. I should -have been more cautious. But I thought nothing of it -then. I knew nothing of how love is sown, and throws up -its leaves, and spreads and fills the whole heart with a -tangle of roots.’</p> - -<p>In this last half hour Barbara had drawn nearer to her -father than in all her previous life. For once she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -entered into his thoughts, roused old recollections, both -sweet and bitter—inexpressibly sweet, unutterably bitter—and -his heart was full of tears.</p> - -<p>‘Was Eve’s mother as beautiful as our darling?’</p> - -<p>‘O yes, Barbara!’ His voice shook, and he raised his -white hands to cover his eyes. ‘Even more beautiful.’</p> - -<p>‘And you loved her with all your heart?’</p> - -<p>‘I have never ceased to love her. It is that, Barbara, -which’—he put his hands to his head, and she understood -him—which disturbed his brain.</p> - -<p>‘But,’ he said, suddenly as waking from a dream, -‘Barbara, how do you know all this? Who told -you?’</p> - -<p>She did not answer him, but she rose, knelt on the -stool, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Her -cheeks were wet.</p> - -<p>‘You are crying, Barbara.’</p> - -<p>‘I am thinking of your sorrows, dear papa.’</p> - -<p>She was still kneeling on one knee, with her arms -round her father. ‘Poor papa! I want to know really -what became of Eve’s mother.’</p> - -<p>The door was thrown open.</p> - -<p>‘Yes; that is what I have come to ask,’ said Jasper, -entering the room, holding a wax candle in each hand. -He had intercepted the maid, Jane, with the candles, -taken them from her, and as she opened the door entered, -to hear Barbara’s question. The girl turned, dropped one -arm, but clung with the other to her father, who had just -placed one of his hands on her head. Her eyes, from -having been so long in the dark, were very large. She -was pale, and her cheeks glistened with tears.</p> - -<p>She was too astonished to recover herself at once, -dazzled by the strong light; she could not see Jasper but -she knew his voice.</p> - -<p>He put the candlesticks—they were of silver—on the -table, shut the door behind him, and standing before Mr. -Jordan with bowed head, his earnest eyes fixed on the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -man’s face, he said again, ‘Yes, that is what I have come -to ask. Where is Eve’s mother?’</p> - -<p>No one spoke. Barbara recovered herself first; she -rose from the stool, and stepped between her father and -the steward.</p> - -<p>‘It is not you,’ she said, ‘who have a right to ask -questions. It is we who have to call you to account.’</p> - -<p>‘For what, Miss Jordan?’ He spoke to her with -deference—a certain tone of reverence which never left -him when addressing her.</p> - -<p>‘You must give an account of yourself,’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘I am just returned from Buckfastleigh,’ he answered.</p> - -<p>‘And, pray, how is your father who was dying?’ she -asked, with a curl of her lip and a quiver of contempt in -her voice.</p> - -<p>‘He is well,’ replied Jasper. ‘I was deceived about -his sickness. He has not been ill. I was sent on a fool’s -errand.’</p> - -<p>‘Then,’ said Mr. Jordan, who had recovered himself, -‘what about the money?’</p> - -<p>‘The recovery of that is as distant as ever, but also as -certain.’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper Babb,’ exclaimed Ignatius Jordan, ‘you -have not been to Buckfastleigh at all. You have not seen -your father; you have deceived me with——’</p> - -<p>Barbara hastily interrupted him, saying with beating -heart, and with colour rising to her pale checks, ‘I pray -you, I pray you, say no more. We know very well that -you have not left this neighbourhood.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not understand you, Miss Jordan. I am but just -returned. My horse is not yet unsaddled.’</p> - -<p>‘Not another word,’ exclaimed the girl, with pain in -her voice. ‘Not another word if you wish us to retain a -particle of regard for you. I have pitied you, I have -excused you but if you <i>lie</i>—I have said the word, I cannot -withdraw it—I give you up.’ Fire was in her heart, -tears in her throat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I will speak,’ said Jasper. ‘I value your regard, -Miss Jordan, above everything that the world contains. -I cannot tamely lose that. There has been a misapprehension. -How it has arisen I do not know, but arisen it -has, and dissipated it shall be. It is true, as I said, that -I was deceived about my father’s condition, wilfully, -maliciously deceived. I rode yesterday to Buckfastleigh, -and have but just returned. If my father had been dying -you would not have seen me here so soon.’</p> - -<p>‘We cannot listen to this. We cannot endure this,’ -cried Barbara. ‘Will you madden me, after all that has -been done for you? It is cruel, cruel!’ Then, unable -to control the flood of tears that rose to her eyes, she left -the room and the glare of candles.</p> - -<p>Jasper approached Mr. Jordan. He had not lost his -self-restraint. ‘I do not comprehend this charge of falsehood -brought against me. I can bring you a token that I -have seen my father, a token you will not dispute. He -has told me who your second wife was. She was my -sister. Will you do me the justice to say that you believe -me?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ answered the old man, faintly.</p> - -<p>‘May I recall Miss Jordan? I cannot endure that she -should suppose me false.’</p> - -<p>‘If you will.’</p> - -<p>‘One word more. Do you wish our kinship to be -known to her, or is it to be kept a secret, at least for a -while?’</p> - -<p>‘Do not tell her.’</p> - -<p>Then Jasper went out into the hall. Barbara was there, -in the window, looking out into the dusk through the dull -old glass of the lattice.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ said he, ‘I have ventured to ask you to -return to your father, and receive his assurance that I -spoke the truth.’</p> - -<p>‘But,’ exclaimed Barbara, turning roughly upon him, -‘you were on the Raven Rock with my sister at sunset,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -and had your brother planted at the gate to watch against -intruders.’</p> - -<p>‘My brother?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, a boy.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not understand you.’</p> - -<p>‘It is true. I saw him, I saw you. Eve confessed it. -What do you say to that?’</p> - -<p>Jasper bit his thumb.</p> - -<p>Barbara laughed bitterly.</p> - -<p>‘I know why you pretended to go away—because a -policeman was here on Sunday, and you were afraid. Take -care! I have betrayed you. Your secret is known. You -are not safe here.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ said the young man quietly, ‘you are -mistaken. I did not meet your sister. I would not deceive -you for all the world contains. I warn you that -Miss Eve is menaced, and I was sent out of the way lest -I should be here to protect her.’</p> - -<p>Barbara gave a little contemptuous gasp.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot listen to you any longer,’ she said angrily. -‘Take my warning. Leave this place. It is no longer -safe. I tell you—I, yes, I have betrayed you.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not go,’ said Jasper, ‘I dare not. I have the -interest of your family too near my heart to leave.’</p> - -<p>‘You will not go!’ exclaimed Barbara, trembling with -anger and scorn. ‘I neither believe you, nor trust you. -I’—she set her teeth and said through them, with her -heart in her mouth—’Jasper, I <i>hate</i> you!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c212" id="c212">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">WANDERING LIGHTS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">No</span> sooner was Mr. Jordan left alone than his face became -ghastly, and his eyes were fixed with terror, as though he -saw before him some object of infinite horror. He put his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -quivering thin hands on the elbows of his armchair and -let himself slide to his knees, then he raised his hollow -eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands and wrung them; -his lips moved, but no vocal prayers issued from them. -He lifted his hands above his head, uttered a cry and fell -forward on his face upon the oak floor. Near his hand -was his stick with which he rapped against the wall or on -the floor when he needed assistance. He laid hold of this, -and tried to raise himself, but faintness came over him, -and he fell again and lost all consciousness.</p> - -<p>When he recovered sufficiently to see what and who -were about him, he found that he had been lifted on to his -bed by Jasper and Barbara, and that Jane was in the -room. His motion with his hands, his strain to raise -himself, had disturbed the bandages and reopened his -wound, which was again bleeding, and indeed had soaked -through his clothes and stained the floor.</p> - -<p>He said nothing, but his eyes watched and followed -Jasper with a mixture of hatred and fear in them.</p> - -<p>‘He irritates me,’ he whispered to his daughter; ‘send -him out. I cannot endure to see him.’</p> - -<p>Then Barbara made an excuse for dismissing Jasper.</p> - -<p>When he was gone, Mr. Jordan’s anxiety instead of -being allayed was increased. He touched his daughter, -and drew her ear to him, and whispered, ‘Where is he -now? What is he doing?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know, papa. He is probably in his room.’</p> - -<p>‘Go and see.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa dear, I cannot do that. Do you want him?’</p> - -<p>‘Do <i>I</i> want him? No, Barbara, but I do not choose -that he shall escape. Go and look if there is a light in -his window.’</p> - -<p>She was about to send Jane, when her father impatiently -insisted on her going herself. Wondering at his -caprice she obeyed.</p> - -<p>No sooner was the door closed behind her, than the -old man signed Jane Welsh to come near him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Jane,’ he said in a whisper, ‘I want you to do something -for me. No one must know about it. You have a -sweetheart, I’ve heard, the policeman, Joseph Woodman, -at Tavistock.’</p> - -<p>The girl pulled at the ends of her apron, and looking -down, said, ‘Lawk! How folks do talk!’</p> - -<p>‘Is it true, Jane?’</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir, I won’t deny us have been keeping company, -and on Sunday went to a love-feast together.’</p> - -<p>‘That is well,’ said Mr. Jordan earnestly, with his wild -eyes gleaming. ‘Quick, before my daughter comes. -Stand nearer. No one must hear. Would you do Joseph -a good turn and get him a sergeantry?’</p> - -<p>‘O please, sir!’</p> - -<p>‘Then run as fast as you can to Tavistock.’</p> - -<p>‘Please, sir, I durstn’t. It be night and it’s whisht<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> -over the moor.’</p> - -<p>‘Then leave it, and I will send someone else, and you -will lose your lover.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you want me to do, sir? I wouldn’t have -that neither.’</p> - -<p>‘Then run to Tavistock, and tell Joseph Woodman to -communicate at once with the warder of the Prince’s -Town jail, and bid him bring sufficient men with him, and -come here, and I will deliver into their hands a runaway -convict, a man who broke out of jail not long ago.’</p> - -<p>‘Please, sir, where is he? Lawk, sir! What if he -were on the moor as I went over it?’</p> - -<p>‘Never mind where he is. I will produce him at the -right moment. Above all—Jane—remember this, not a -word of what I have said to Mr. Jasper or to Miss Barbara. -Go secretly, and go at once. Hush! Here she comes.’</p> - -<p>Barbara entered. ‘A light is in his window,’ she said. -Then her father laughed, and shut his hands.</p> - -<p>‘So,’ he muttered, ‘so I shall snap him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> - -<p>When her father was composed, and seemed inclined -to sleep, Barbara left his room, and went out of the house. -She needed to be by herself. Her bosom heaved. She -had so much to think of, so many troubles had come upon -her, the future was dark, the present uncertain.</p> - -<p>If she were in the house she would not be able to -enjoy that quiet for which she craved, in which to compose -the tumult of her heart, and arrange her ideas. There -she was sure to be disturbed: a maid would ask for a -duster, or another bunch of candles; the cook would send -to announce that the chimney of the kitchen was out of -order, the soot or mortar was falling down it; the laundrymaid -would ask for soap; Eve would want to be amused. -Every other minute she would have some distracting -though trifling matter forced on her. She must be alone. -Her heart yearned for it. She would not go to the Rock, -the association with it was painful. It was other with the -moor, Morwell Down, open to every air, without a tree -behind which an imp might lurk and hoot and make -mows.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, without saying a word to anyone, Barbara -stole along the lane to the moor.</p> - -<p>That was a sweet summer night. The moon was not -yet risen, the stars were in the sky, not many, for the -heaven was not dark, but suffused with lost sunlight. To -the east lay the range of Dartmoor mountains, rugged and -grey; to the west, peaked and black against silver, the -Cornish tors. But all these heights on this night were -scintillating with golden moving spots of fire. The time -had come for what is locally called ‘swaling,’ that is, -firing the whinbrakes. In places half a hill side was -flaked with red flame, then it flared yellow, then died -away. Clouds of smoke, tinged with fire reflection from -below, rolled away before the wind. When the conflagration -reached a dense and tall tree-like mass of gorse the -flame rose in a column, or wavered like a golden tongue. -Then, when the material was exhausted and no contiguous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -brake continued the fire, the conflagration ended, and left -only a patch of dull glowing scarlet ember.</p> - -<p>Barbara leaned against the last stone hedge which -divided moor from field, and looked at the moving lights -without thinking of the beauty and wildness of the spectacle. -She was steeped in her own thoughts, and was -never at any time keenly alive to the beautiful and the -fantastic.</p> - -<p>She thought of Jasper. She had lost all faith in him. -He was false and deceitful. What could she believe about -that meeting on the Raven Rock? He might have convinced -her father that he was not there. He could not -convince her. What was to be done? Would her father -betray the man? He was ill now and could do nothing. -Why was Jasper so obstinate as to refuse to leave? Why? -Because he was infatuated with Eve.</p> - -<p>On that very down it was that Jasper had been thrown -and nearly killed. If only he had been killed outright. -Why had she nursed him so carefully? Far better to -have left him on the moor to die. How dare he aspire to -Eve? The touch of his hand carried a taint. Her brain -was dark, yet, like that landscape, full of wandering sparks -of fire. She could not think clearly. She could not feel -composedly. Those moving, wavering fires, now rushing -up in sheaves of flame, now falling into a sullen glow -burnt on the sides of solid mountains, but her fiery -thoughts, that sent a blaze into her cheek and eye, and -then died into a slow heat, moved over tossing billows of -emotion. She put her hand to her head as if by grasping -it she could bring her thoughts to a standstill; she pressed -her hands against her bosom, as if by so doing she could -fix her emotions. The stars in the serene sky burned -steadily, ever of one brightness. Below, these wandering -fires flared, glowed, and went out. Was it not a picture -of the contrast between life on earth and life in the settled -celestial habitations? Barbara was not a girl with much -fancy, but some such a thought came into her mind, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -might have taken form had not she at the moment seen a -dark figure issue from the lane.</p> - -<p>‘Who goes there?’ she called imperiously.</p> - -<p>The figure stopped, and after a moment answered: -‘Oh, Miss! you have a-given me a turn. It be me, Jane.’</p> - -<p>‘And pray,’ said Barbara, ‘what brings you here at -night? Whither are you going?’</p> - -<p>The girl hesitated, and groped in her mind for an excuse. -Then she said: ‘I want, miss, to go to Tavistock.’</p> - -<p>‘To Tavistock! It is too late. Go home to bed.’</p> - -<p>‘I must go, Miss Barbara. I’m sure I don’t want to. -I’m scared of my life, but the master have sent me, and -what can I do? He’ve a-told me to go to Joseph Woodman.’</p> - -<p>‘It is impossible, at this time. It must not be.’</p> - -<p>‘But, Miss, I promised I’d go, and sure enough I don’t -half like it, over those downs at night, and nobody knows -what one may meet. I wouldn’t be caught by the Whish -Hounds and Black Copplestone, not for’—the girl’s -imagination was limited, so she concluded, ‘well, Miss, -not for nothing.’</p> - -<p>Barbara considered a moment, and then said, ‘I have -no fear. I will accompany you over the Down, till you -come to habitations. I am not afraid of returning alone.’</p> - -<p>‘Thank you, Miss Barbara, you be wonderfully good.’</p> - -<p>The girl was, indeed, very grateful for her company. -She had had her nerves sorely shaken by the encounter -with Watt, and now in the fulness of her thankfulness she -confided to her mistress all that Mr. Jordan had said, -concluding with her opinion that probably ‘It was naught -but a fancy of the Squire; he do have fancies at times. -Howsomever, us must humour ‘m.’</p> - -<p>Jasper also had gone forth. In his breast also was -trouble, and a sharp pain, that had come with a spasm -when Barbara told him how she hated him.</p> - -<p>But Jasper did not go to Morwell Down. He went -towards the Raven Rock that lay on the farther side of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -the house. He also desired to be alone and under the -calm sky. He was stifled by the air of a house, depressed -by the ceiling.</p> - -<p>The words of Barbara had wounded him rather than -stung him. She had not only told him that she hated -him, but had given the best proof of her sincerity by -betraying him. Suspecting him of carrying on an unworthy -intrigue with Eve, she had sacrificed him to save -her sister. He could not blame her, her first duty was -towards Eve. One comfort he had that, though Barbara -had betrayed him, she did not seek his punishment, she -sought only his banishment from Morwell.</p> - -<p>Once—just once—he had half opened her heart, -looked in, and fancied he had discovered a tender regard -for him lurking in its bottom. Since then Barbara had -sought every opportunity of disabusing his mind of such -an idea. And now, this night, she had poured out her -heart at his feet, and shown him hatred, not love.</p> - -<p>Jasper’s life had been one of self-denial. There had -been little joy in it. Anxieties had beset him from early -childhood; solicitude for his brother, care not to offend -his father. By nature he had a very loving heart, but he -had grown up with none to love save his brother, who had -cruelly abused his love. A joyous manhood never ensues -on a joyless boyhood. Jasper was always sensible of an -inner sadness, even when he was happy. His brightest -joys were painted on a sombre background, but then, how -much brighter they seemed by the contrast—alas, only, -that they were so few! The circumstances of his rearing -had driven him in upon himself, so that he lived an inner -life, which he shared with no one, and which was unperceived -by all. Now, as he stood on the Rock, with an -ache at his heart, Jasper uncovered his head, and looked -into the softly lighted vault, set with a few faint stars. -As he stood thus with his hands folded over his hat, and -looked westward at the clear, cold, silvery sky behind and -over the Cornish moors, an unutterable yearning strained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -his heart. He said no word, he thought no thought. He -simply stood uncovered under the summer night sky, and -from his heart his pain exhaled.</p> - -<p>Did he surmise that at that same time Barbara was -standing on the moor, also looking away beyond the -horizon, also suffering, yearning, without knowing for -what she longed? No, he had no thought of that.</p> - -<p>And as both thus stood far removed in body, but one -in sincerity, suffering, fidelity, there shot athwart the -vault of heaven a brilliant dazzling star.</p> - -<p>Mr. Coyshe at his window, smoking, said: ‘By Ginger! -a meteor!’</p> - -<p>But was it not an angel bearing the dazzling chalice -of the sangreal from highest heaven, from the region of -the still stars, down to this world of flickering, fading, -wandering fires, to minister therewith balm to two distressed -spirits?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c219" id="c219">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE OWLS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> had been interrupted in her meditations, so was -Jasper. As he stood lost in a painful dream, but with a -dew from heaven falling on his parched soul, suddenly he -was startled out of his abstraction by a laugh and an exclamation -at his elbow.</p> - -<p>‘Well, Jasper, composing verses to the weak-eyed Leah -or the blue-orbed Rachel?’</p> - -<p>‘What brings you here, Watt?’ asked Jasper, disguising -his annoyance.</p> - -<p>‘Or, my sanctimonious fox, are you waiting here for -one of the silly geese to run to you?’</p> - -<p>‘You have come here bent on mischief,’ said Jasper, -disdaining to notice his jokes.</p> - -<p>The evening, the still scene, the solitary platform raised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -so high above the land beyond, had seemed holy, soothing -as a church, and now, at once, with the sound of Walter’s -voice, the feeling was gone, all seemed desecrated.</p> - -<p>‘Watt,’ said Jasper, sternly, ‘you sent me away to -Buckfastleigh by a lie. Why did you do that? It is -utterly false that my father is ill and dying.’</p> - -<p>‘Is it so? Then I dreamed it, Jasper. Morning -dreams come true, folks say. There, my brother, you are -a good, forgiving fellow. You will pardon me. The fact -is that Martin and I wanted to know how matters went at -home. I did not care to go myself, Martin could not go, -so—I sent you, my good simpleton.’</p> - -<p>‘You told me a lie.’</p> - -<p>‘If I had told you the truth you would not have gone. -What was that we were taught at school? “Magna est -veritas, et prævalebit.” I don’t believe it; experience -tells me the contrary. Long live lies; they win the day -all the world over.’</p> - -<p>‘What brings you here?’</p> - -<p>‘Have I not told you? I desired to see you and to have -news of my father. You have been quick about it, Jasper. -I could scarce believe my eyes when I saw you riding -home.’</p> - -<p>‘You have been watching?’</p> - -<p>‘Of course I have. My eyes are keen. Nothing -escapes them.’</p> - -<p>‘Walter, this will not do. I am not deceived; you did -not come here for the purpose you say. You want something -else, what is it?’</p> - -<p>The boy laughed, snapped his fingers, and began to -dance, whistling a tune, on the rock; approaching, then -backing from Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, you clever old Jasper!’ he laughed, ‘now you -begin to see—like the puppy pitched into the water-butt, -who opened his eyes when too late.’</p> - -<p>Jasper folded his arms. He said nothing, but waited -till the boy’s mad pranks came to an end. At last Watt,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -seeing that he could not provoke his brother, desisted, and -came to him with affected humility.</p> - -<p>‘There, Jasper—Saint Jasper, I mean—I will be quiet -and go through my catechism.’</p> - -<p>‘Then tell me why you are here.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, now, you shall hear our scheme. Martin and I -thought that you had better patch up your little quarrel -with father, and then we knew we should have a good -friend at his ear to prompt forgiveness, and so, perhaps, as -his conscience stirred, his purse-strings might relax, and -you would be able to send us a trifle in money. Is not -this reasonable?’</p> - -<p>Yes, there could be no denying it, this was reasonable -and consistent with the characters of the two, who would -value their father’s favour only by what it would profit -them. Nevertheless Jasper was unsatisfied. Watt was -so false, so unscrupulous, that his word never could be -trusted.</p> - -<p>Jasper considered for a few minutes, then he asked, -‘Where is Martin—is he here?’</p> - -<p>‘Here!’ jeered the boy, ‘Martin here, indeed! not he. -He is in safe quarters. Where he is I will blab to no one, -not even to you. He sends me out from his ark of refuge -as the dove, or rather as the raven, to bring him news of -the world from which he is secluded.’</p> - -<p>‘Walter, answer me this. Who met Miss Eve this -evening on this very rock? Answer me truly. More -depends on this than you are aware of.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Eve! What do you mean? My sister who is -dead and gone? I do not relish the company of ghosts.’</p> - -<p>‘You know whom I mean. This is miserable evasion. -I mean the younger of the daughters of Mr. Jordan. She -was here at sundown this evening and someone was with -her. I conjure you by all that you hold sacred——’</p> - -<p>‘I hold nothing sacred,’ said the boy.</p> - -<p>‘I conjure you most solemnly to tell me the whole -truth, as brother to brother.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Well, then—as brother to brother—I did.’</p> - -<p>‘For what purpose, Watt?’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Jasper, can we live on air? Here am I -hopping about the woods, roosting in the branches, and -there is poor Martin mewed up in his ark. I must find -food for him and myself. You know that I have made the -acquaintance of the young lady who, oddly enough, bears -the name of our dear departed mother and sister. I have -appealed to her compassion, and held out my hat for -money. I offered to dance on my head, to turn a wheel -all round the edge of this cliff, in jeopardy of my life for -half a guinea, and she gave me the money to prevent me -from risking broken bones.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Watt, you should not have done this!’</p> - -<p>‘We must live. We must have money.’</p> - -<p>‘But, Watt, where is all that which was taken from my -pocket?’</p> - -<p>‘Gone,’ answered the boy. ‘Gone as the snow before -south-west wind. Nothing melts like money, not even -snow, no, nor butter, no, nor a girl’s heart.’ Then with a -sly laugh, ‘Jasper, where does old addle-brains keep his -strong box?’</p> - -<p>‘Walter!’ exclaimed Jasper, indignantly.</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ laughed the boy, ‘if I knew where it was I would -creep to it by a mouse hole, and put my little finger into -the lock, and when I turned that, open flies the box.’</p> - -<p>‘Walter, forbear. You are a wicked boy.’</p> - -<p>‘I confess it. I glory in it. Father always said I was -predestined to——’</p> - -<p>‘Be silent,’ ordered Jasper, angrily; ‘you are insufferable.’</p> - -<p>‘There, do not ruffle your feathers over a joke. Have -you some money to give me now?’</p> - -<p>‘Watt,’ said Jasper, very sternly, ‘answer me frankly, -if you can. I warn you.’ He laid his hand on the boy’s -arm. ‘A great deal depends on your giving me a truthful -answer. Is Martin anywhere hereabouts? I fear he is,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -in spite of your assurances, for where you are he is not -often far away. The jackal and the lion hunt together.’</p> - -<p>‘He is not here. Good-bye, old brother Grave-airs.’ -Then he ran away, but before he had gone far turned and -hooted like an owl, and ran on, and was lost in the gloom -of the woods, but still as he ran hooted at intervals, and owls -answered his cry from the rocks, and flitted ghost-like about -in the dusk, seeking their brother who called them and -mocked at them.</p> - -<p>Now that he was again alone, Jasper in vain sought to -rally his thoughts and recover his former frame of mind. -But that was not possible. Accordingly he turned homewards.</p> - -<p>He was very tired. He had had two long days’ ride, -and had slept little if at all the previous night. Though -recovered after his accident he was not perfectly vigorous, -and the two hard days and broken rest had greatly tired -him. On reaching Morwell he did not take a light, but -cast himself, in his clothes, on his bed, and fell into a heavy -sleep.</p> - -<p>Barbara walked quietly back after having parted with -Jane. She hoped that Jasper had on second thoughts -taken the prudent course of escaping. It was inconceivable -that he should remain and allow himself to be retaken. -She was puzzled how to explain his conduct. Then all at -once she remembered that she had left the convict suit in -her father’s room; she had forgotten to remove it. She -quickened her pace and arrived breathless at Morwell.</p> - -<p>She entered her father’s apartment on tiptoe. She -stood still and listened. A night-light burned on the floor, -and the enclosing iron pierced with round holes cast circles -of light about the walls. The candle was a rushlight of -feeble illuminating power.</p> - -<p>Barbara could see her father lying, apparently asleep, in -bed, with his pale thin hands out, hanging down, clasped, -as if in prayer; one of the spots of light danced over the -finger tips and nails. She heard him breathe, as in sleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then she stepped across the room to where she had -cast the suit of clothes. They lay in a grey heap, with the -spots of light avoiding them, dancing above them, but not -falling on them.</p> - -<p>Barbara stooped to pick them up.</p> - -<p>‘Stay, Barbara,’ said her father. ‘I hear you. I see -what you are doing. I know your purpose. Leave those -things where they lie.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa! dear papa, suffer me to put them away.’</p> - -<p>‘Let them lie there, where I can see them.’</p> - -<p>‘But, papa, what will the maids think when they come -in? Besides it is untidy to let them litter about the -floor.’</p> - -<p>He made an impatient gesture with his hand.</p> - -<p>‘May I not, at least, fold them and lay them on the -chair?’</p> - -<p>‘You may not touch them at all,’ he said in a tone of -irritation. She knew his temper too well to oppose him -further.</p> - -<p>‘Good night, dear papa. I suppose Eve is gone to -bed?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; go also.’</p> - -<p>She was obliged, most reluctantly, to leave the room. -She ascended the stairs, and entered her own sleeping -apartment. From this a door communicated with that of -her sister. She opened this door and with her light entered -and crossed it.</p> - -<p>Eve had gone to bed, and thrown all her clothes about -on the floor. Barbara had some difficulty in picking her -way among the scattered articles. When she came to the -bedside, she stood, and held her candle aloft, and let the -light fall over the sleeping girl.</p> - -<p>How lovely she was, with her golden hair in confusion -on the pillow! She was lying with her cheek on one rosy -palm, and the other hand was out of bed, on the white -sheet—and see! upon the finger, Barbara recognised the -turquoise ring. Eve did not venture to wear this by day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -At night, in her room, she had thrust the golden hoop -over her finger, and had gone to sleep without removing it.</p> - -<p>Barbara stooped, and kissed her sister’s cheek. Eve -did not awake, but smiled in slumber; a dimple formed at -the corner of her mouth.</p> - -<p>Then Barbara went to her own room, opened her desk, -and the secret drawer, and looked at the bunch of dry -roses. They were very yellow now, utterly withered and -worthless. The girl took them, stooped her face to them—was -it to discover if any scent lingered in the faded -leaves? Then she closed the drawer and desk again, with -a sigh.</p> - -<p>Was Barbara insensible to what is beautiful, inappreciative -of the poetry of life? Surely not. She had been -forced by circumstances to be practical, to devote her whole -thought to the duties of the house and estate; she had -said to herself that she had no leisure to think of those -things that make life graceful; but through her strong, -direct, and genuine nature ran a ‘Leitmotif’ of sweet, -pure melody, kept under and obscured by the jar and -jangle of domestic cares and worries, but never lost. -There is no nature, however vulgar, that is deficient in its -musical phrase, not always quite original and unique, and -only the careless listener marks it not. The patient, attentive -ear suspects its presence first, listens for it, recognises -it, and at last appreciates it.</p> - -<p>In poor faithful Barbara now the sweet melody, somewhat -sad, was rising, becoming articulate, asserting itself -above all other sounds and adventitious strains—but, alas! -there was no ear to listen to it.</p> - -<p>Barbara went to her window and opened it.</p> - -<p>‘How the owls are hooting to-night!’ she said. ‘They, -like myself, are full of unrest. To-whit! To-whoo!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c226" id="c226">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE DOVES.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> had no thought of going to bed. She could not -have slept had she gone. There was a clock in the tower, -a noisy clock that made its pulsations heard through the -quadrangle, and this clock struck twelve. By this time -Jane had roused the young policeman, and he was collecting -men to assist him in the capture. Perhaps they were -already on their way,—or were they waiting for the arrival -of warders from Prince’s Town? Those warders were more -dangerous men than the constables, for they were armed -with short guns, and prepared to fire should their game -attempt to break away.</p> - -<p>She looked across the court at Jasper’s window. No -light was in it. Was he there, asleep? or had he taken -her advice and gone? She could not endure the thought -of his capture, the self-reproach of having betrayed him -was more than she could bear. Barbara, usually so collected -and cool, was now nervous and hot.</p> - -<p>More light was in the sky than had been when she was -on the down. The moon was rising over the roof. She -could not see it, but she saw the reflection in Jasper’s -window, like flakes of silver.</p> - -<p>What should she do? Her distress became insupportable, -and she felt she must be doing something to relieve -her mind. The only thing open to her was to make -another attempt to recover the prison suit. If she could -destroy that, it would be putting out of the way one piece -of evidence against him—a poor piece, still a piece. She -was not sure that it would avail him anything, but it was -worth risking her father’s anger on the chance.</p> - -<p>She descended the stairs once more to her father’s -room. The door was ajar, with a feeble yellow streak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -issuing from it. She looked in cautiously. Then with -the tread of a thief she entered and passed through a maze -of quivering bezants of dull light. She stooped, but, as -she touched the garments, heard her father’s voice, and -started upright. He was speaking in his sleep—’De profundis -clamavi ad te;’ then he tossed and moaned, and -put up his hand and held it shaking in the air. ‘<i>Si -iniquitates</i>’—he seemed troubled in his sleep, unable to -catch the sequence of words, and repeated ‘<i>Si iniquitates -observaveris</i>,’ and lay still on his pillow again; whilst -Barbara stood watching him, with her finger to her lip, -afraid to move, afraid of the consequences, should he wake -and see her in her disobedience.</p> - -<p>Then he mumbled, and she heard him pulling at his -sheet. ‘Out of love, out of the deeps of love, I have sinned.’ -Then suddenly he cried out, ‘<i>Si iniquitates observaveris, -Domine, quis sustinebit?</i>’—he had the sentence complete, -or nearly so, and it appeased him. Barbara heard him -sigh, she stole to his side, bowed over his ear, and said, -‘<i>Apud te propitiatio est: speravit anima mea in Domino.</i>’ -Whether he heard or not she did not know; he breathed -thenceforth evenly in sleep, and the expression of distress -left his face.</p> - -<p>Then Barbara took up the bundle of clothes and softly -withdrew. She was risking something for Jasper—the -loss of her father’s regard. She had recently drawn -nearer to his heart than ever before, and he had allowed -her to cling round his neck and kiss him. Yet now she -deliberately disobeyed him. He would be very angry next -morning.</p> - -<p>When she was in the hall she turned over in her mind -what was best to be done with the clothes. She could -not hide them in the house. Her father would insist -on their reproduction. They must be destroyed. She -could not burn them: the fire in the kitchen was out. -The only way she could think of getting rid of them -was to carry them to the Raven Rock and throw them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -over the precipice. This, accordingly, she did. She left -the house, and in the moonlight walked through the -fields and wood to the crag and hurled the bundle over -the edge.</p> - -<p>Now that this piece of evidence against Jasper was -removed, it was expedient that he should escape without -further delay—if he were still at Morwell.</p> - -<p>Barbara had a little money of her own. When she -unlocked her desk and looked at the withered flowers, she -drew from it her purse, that contained her savings. There -were several pounds in it. She drew the knitted silk purse -from her pocket, and, standing in the moonlight, counted -the sovereigns in her hand. She was standing before the -gatehouse near the old trees, hidden by their shadow. -She looked up at Jasper’s other window—that which commanded -the entrance and was turned from the moon. Was -he there? How could she communicate with him, give -him the money, and send him off? Then the grating -clock in the tower tolled one. Time was passing, danger -drew on apace. Something must be done. Barbara -picked up some pebbles and threw them at Jasper’s window, -but her aim was bad or her arm shook, and they -scattered without touching the glass.</p> - -<p>All at once she heard feet—a trampling in the lane—and -she saw also that lights were burning on the down. -The lights were merely gorse blazes, for Morwell Moor -was being ‘swaled,’ and the flames were creeping on; -and the trampling was of young colts and bullocks that -fed on the down, which were escaping before the fires; -but to Barbara’s nervous fear the lights and the tramp -betokened the approach of a body of men to capture Jasper -Babb. Then, without any other thought but to save him, -she ran up the stair, struck at his door, threw it open, and -entered. He started from his bed, on which he had cast -himself fully dressed, and from dead weariness had dropped -asleep.</p> - -<p>‘For God’s dear sake,’ said Barbara, ‘come away!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -They are after you; they are close to the house. Here -is money—take it, and go by the garden.’</p> - -<p>She stood in the door, holding it, trembling in all her -limbs, and the door she held rattled.</p> - -<p>He came straight towards her.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, Miss Jordan -I shall never forgive myself. Go down into the garden—I -will follow at once. I will speak to you; I will tell you -all.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not wish you to speak. I insist on your going.’</p> - -<p>He came to her, took her hand from the door, and led -her down the stairs. As they came out into the gateway -they heard the tramp of many feet, and a rush of young -cattle debouched from the lane upon the open space before -the gate.</p> - -<p>Barbara was not one to cry, but she shivered and -shrank before her eyes told her what a mistake she had -made.</p> - -<p>‘Here,’ she said, ‘I give you my purse. Go!’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ answered Jasper. ‘There is no occasion for me -to go. I have acted wrongly, but I did it for the best. -You see, there is no occasion for fear. These ponies have -been frightened by the flames, and have come through the -moor-gate, which has been left open. I must see that -they do not enter the court and do mischief.’</p> - -<p>‘Never mind about the cattle, I pray you. Go! Take -this money; it is mine. I freely give it you. Go!’</p> - -<p>‘Why are you so anxious about me if you hate me?’ -asked Jasper. ‘Surely it would gratify hate to see me -handcuffed and carried off!’</p> - -<p>‘No, I do not hate you—that is, not so much as to -desire that. I have but one desire concerning you—that -we should never see your face again.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan, I shall not be taken.’</p> - -<p>She flared up with rage, disappointment, shame. -‘How dare you!’ she cried. ‘How dare you stand here -and set me at naught, when I have done so much for you—when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -I have even ventured to rouse you in the depth -of night! My God! you are enough to madden me. I -will not have the shame come on this house of having -you taken here. Yes—I recall my words—I do hate -you.’</p> - -<p>She wrung her hands; Jasper caught them and held -them between his own.</p> - -<p>‘Miss Barbara, I have deceived you. Be calm.’</p> - -<p>‘I know only too well that you have deceived me—all -of us,’ she said passionately. ‘Let go my hands.’</p> - -<p>‘You misunderstand me. I shall not be taken, for I -am not pursued. I never took your sister’s money. I -have never been in jail.’</p> - -<p>She plucked her hands away.</p> - -<p>‘I do not comprehend.’</p> - -<p>‘Nevertheless, what I say is simple. You have supposed -me to be a thief and an escaped convict. I am -neither.’</p> - -<p>Barbara shook her head impatiently.</p> - -<p>‘I have allowed you to think it for reasons of my own. -But now you must be undeceived.’</p> - -<p>The young cattle were galloping about in front, kicking, -snorting, trying the hedges. Jasper left Barbara for -a while that he might drive them into a field where they -could do no harm. She remained under the great gate -in the shadow, bewildered, hoping that what he now said -was true, yet not daring to believe his words.</p> - -<p>Presently he returned to her. He had purposely left -her that she might have time to compose herself. When -he returned she was calm and stern.</p> - -<p>‘You cannot blind me with your falsehoods,’ she said. -‘I know that Mr. Ezekiel Babb was robbed by his -own son. I know the prison suit was yours. You confessed -it when I showed it you on your return to consciousness: -perhaps before you were aware how seriously you -committed yourself. I know that you were in jail at -Prince’s Town, and that you escaped.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Well, Miss Jordan, what you say is partly true, and -partly incorrect.’</p> - -<p>‘Are you not Mr. Babb’s son?’ she asked imperiously.</p> - -<p>He bowed; he was courtly in manner.</p> - -<p>‘Was not his son found guilty of robbing him?’</p> - -<p>He bowed again.</p> - -<p>‘Was he not imprisoned for so doing?’</p> - -<p>‘He was so.’</p> - -<p>‘Did he not escape from prison?’</p> - -<p>‘He did.’</p> - -<p>‘And yet,’ exclaimed Barbara angrily, ‘you dare to -say with one breath that you are innocent, whilst with -the next you confess your guilt! Like the satyr in the -fable, I would drive you from my presence, you blower of -true and false!’</p> - -<p>He caught her hands again and held her firmly, whilst -he drew her out of the shadow of the archway into the -moonlight of the court.</p> - -<p>‘Do you give it up?’ he asked; and, by the moon, -the sickle moon, on his pale face, she saw him smile. By -that same moon he saw the frown on her brow. ‘Miss -Barbara, I am not Ezekiel Babb’s <i>only</i> son!’</p> - -<p>Her heart stood still; then the blood rushed through -her veins like the tidal bore in the Severn. The whole -of the sky seemed full of daylight. She saw all now -clearly. Her pride, her anger fell from her as the chains -fell from Peter when the angel touched him.</p> - -<p>‘No, Miss Jordan, I am guiltless in this matter—guiltless -in everything except in having deceived you.’</p> - -<p>‘God forgive you!’ she said in a low tone as her eyes -fell and tears rushed to them. She did not draw her -hands from his. She was too much dazed to know that -he held them. ‘God forgive you!—you have made me -suffer very much!’</p> - -<p>She did not see how his large earnest eyes were fixed -upon her, how he was struggling with his own heart to -refrain from speaking out what he felt; but had she met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -his eye then in the moonlight, there would have been no -need of words, only a quiver of the lips, and they would -have been clasped in each other’s arms.</p> - -<p>She did not look up; she was studying, through a -veil of tears, some white stones that caught the moonlight.</p> - -<p>‘This is not the time for me to tell you the whole sad -tale,’ he went on. ‘I have acted as I thought my duty -pointed out—my duty to a brother.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘you have a brother—that strange -boy.’</p> - -<p>A laugh, jeering and shrill, close in their ears. From -behind the great yew appeared the shoulders and face of -the impish Walter.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, the pious, the proper Jasper! Oh, ho, ho! -What frail men these saints are who read their Bibles -to weak-eyed Leahs and blooming Rachels, and make -love to both!</p> - -<p>He pointed jeeringly at them with his long fingers.</p> - -<p>‘I set the down on fire for a little fun. I drove the -ponies along this lane; and see, I have disturbed a pair -of ring-doves as well. I won’t hoot any more; but—coo! -coo! coo!’ He ran away, but stopped every now -and then and sent back to them his insulting imitations of -the call of wood-pigeons—’Coo! coo! coo!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c232" id="c232">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE ALARM BELL.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Next</span> morning Barbara entered the hall after having seen -about the duties of the house, ordered dinner, weighed out -spices and groats, made the under-servant do the work of -Jane, who was absent; she moved about her usual duties -with her usual precision and order, but without her usual -composure.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> - -<p>When she came into the hall on her way to her father’s -room, she found Eve there engaged and hard at work on -some engrossing occupation.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Bab! do come and see how bright and beautiful I -am making this,’ said the girl in overflowing spirits and -pride. ‘I found it in the chest in the garret, and I am -furbishing it up.’ She held out a sort of necklace or -oriental carcanet, composed of chains of gold beads and -bezants. ‘It was so dull when I found it, and now it -shines like pure gold!’ Her innocent, childish face was -illumined with delight. ‘I am become really industrious.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, dear; hard at work doing nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘I should like to wear this,’ she sighed.</p> - -<p>That she had deceived her sister, that she had given -her occasion to be anxious about her, had quite passed -from her mind, occupied only with glittering toys.</p> - -<p>Barbara hesitated at her father’s door. She knew that -a painful scene awaited her. He was certain to be angry -and reproach her for having disobeyed him. But her -heart was relieved. She believed in the innocence of -Jasper. Strengthened by this faith, she was bold to confront -her father.</p> - -<p>She tapped at the door and entered.</p> - -<p>She saw at once that he had heard her voice without, -and was expecting her. There was anger in his strange -eyes, and a hectic colour in his hollow cheeks. He was -partly dressed, and sat on the side of the bed. In his -hand he held the stick with which he was wont to rap -when he needed assistance.</p> - -<p>‘Where are the clothes that lay on the floor last night?’ -was his salutation, pointing with the stick to the spot -whence Barbara had gathered them up.</p> - -<p>‘They are gone, papa; I have taken them away.’</p> - -<p>She looked him firmly in the face with her honest eyes, -unwincing. He, however, was unable to meet her steadfast -gaze. His eyes flickered and fell. His mouth was drawn -and set with a hard, cruel expression, such as his face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -rarely wore; a look which sometimes formed, but was as -quickly effaced by a wave of weakness. Now, however, -the expression was fixed.</p> - -<p>‘I forbade you to touch them. Did you hear me?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, dear papa, I have disobeyed you, and I am sorry -to have offended you; but I cannot say that I repent -having taken the clothes away. I found them, and I had -a right to remove them.’</p> - -<p>‘Bring them here immediately.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot do so. I have destroyed them.’</p> - -<p>‘You have dared to do that!’ His eyes began to kindle -and the colour left his cheeks, which became white as -chalk. Barbara saw that he had lost command over himself. -His feeble reason was overwhelmed by passion.</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ she said, in her calmest tones, ‘I have never -disobeyed you before. Only on this one occasion my conscience——’</p> - -<p>‘Conscience!’ he cried. ‘I have a conscience in a -thornbush, and yours is asleep in feathers. You have -dared to creep in here like a thief in the night and steal -from me what I ordered you to leave.’</p> - -<p>He was playing with his stick, clutching it in the -middle and turning it. With his other hand he clutched -and twisted and almost tore the sheets. Barbara believed -that he would strike her, but when he said ‘Come here,’ -she approached him, looking him full in the face without -shrinking.</p> - -<p>She knew that he was not responsible for what he did, -yet she did not hesitate about obeying his command to -approach. She had disobeyed him in the night in a matter -concerning another, to save that other; she would not -disobey now to save herself.</p> - -<p>His face was ugly with unreasoning fury, and his eyes -wilder than she had seen them before. He held up the -stick.</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ she said, ‘not your right arm, or you will reopen -the wound.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her calmness impressed him. He changed the stick -into his left hand, and, gathering up the sheet into a knot, -thrust it into his mouth and bit into it.</p> - -<p>Was the moment come that Barbara had long dreaded? -And was she to be the one on whom his madness first displayed -itself?</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ she said, ‘I will take any punishment you -think fit, but, pray, do not strike me, I cannot bear that—not -for my own sake, but for yours.’</p> - -<p>He paid no attention to her remonstrance, but raised -the stick, holding it by the ferule.</p> - -<p>Steadily looking into his sparkling eyes, Barbara repeated -the words he had muttered and cried in his sleep, -‘<i>De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine. Si iniquitates observaveris, -quis sustinebit?</i>’</p> - -<p>Then, as in a dissolving view on a sheet one scene -changes into another, so in his wild eyes the expression of -rage shifted to one of fear; he dropped the stick, and -Jasper, who at that moment entered, took it and laid it -beyond his reach.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan fell back on his pillow and moaned, and -put his hands over his brow, and beat his temples with his -palms. He would not look at his daughter again, but -peevishly turned his face away.</p> - -<p>Now Barbara’s strength deserted her; she felt as if the -floor under her feet were rolling and as if the walls of the -room were contracting upon her.</p> - -<p>‘I must have air,’ she said. Jasper caught her arm -and led her through the hall into the garden.</p> - -<p>Eve, alarmed to see her sister so colourless, ran to support -her on the other side, and overwhelmed her with inconsiderate -attentions.</p> - -<p>‘You must allow her time to recover herself,’ said -Jasper. ‘Miss Jordan has been up a good part of the -night. The horses on the down were driven on the premises -by the fire and alarmed her and made her rise. She -will be well directly.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I am already recovered,’ said Barbara, with affected -cheerfulness. ‘The room was close. I should like to be -left a little bit in the sun and air, by myself, and to -myself.’</p> - -<p>Eve readily ran back to her burnishing of the gold -beads and bezants, and Jasper heard Mr. Jordan calling -him, so he went to his room. He found the sick gentleman -with clouded brow and closed lips, and eyes that gave -him furtive glances but could not look at him steadily.</p> - -<p>‘Jasper Babb,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘I do not wish you to -leave the house or its immediate precincts to-day. Jane -has not returned, Eve is unreliable, and Barbara overstrained.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, sir, I will do as you wish.’</p> - -<p>‘On no account leave. Send Miss Jordan to me when -she is better.’</p> - -<p>When, about half-an-hour after, Barbara entered the -room, she went direct to her father to kiss him, but he repelled -her.</p> - -<p>‘What did you mean,’ he asked, without looking at her, -‘by those words of the Psalm?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! I thought to soothe you. You are fond of -the <i>De Profundis</i>—you murmur it in your sleep.’</p> - -<p>‘You used the words significantly. What are the -deeds I have done amiss for which you reproach me?’</p> - -<p>‘We all need pardon—some for one thing, some for -another. And, dearest papa, we all need to say ‘<i>Apud te -propitiatio est: speravit anima mea in Domino.</i>’</p> - -<p>‘<i>Propitiatio!</i>’ repeated Mr. Jordan, and resumed his -customary trick of brushing his forehead with his hand as -though to sweep cobwebs from it which fell over and -clouded his eyes. ‘For what? Say out plainly of what -you accuse me. I am prepared for the worst. I cannot -endure these covert stabs. You are always watching me. -You are ever casting innuendos. You cut and pierce me -worse than the scythe. That gashed my body, but you -drive your sharp words into my soul.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘My dear papa, you are mistaken.’</p> - -<p>‘I am not mistaken. Your looks and words have -meaning. Speak out.’</p> - -<p>‘I accuse you of nothing, darling papa, but of being -perhaps just a little unjust to me.’</p> - -<p>She soon saw that her presence was irritating him, her -protestations unavailing to disabuse his mind of the prejudice -that had taken hold of it, and so, with a sigh, she -left him.</p> - -<p>Jane Welsh did not return all day. This was strange. -She had promised Barbara to return the first thing in the -morning. She was to sleep in Tavistock, where she had a -sister, married.</p> - -<p>Barbara went about her work, but with abstracted -mind, and without her usual energy.</p> - -<p>She was not quite satisfied. She tried to believe in -Jasper’s innocence, and yet doubts would rise in her mind -in spite of her efforts to keep them under.</p> - -<p>Whom had Eve met on the Raven Rock? Jasper had -denied that he was the person: who, then, could it have -been? The only other conceivable person was Mr. Coyshe, -and Barbara at once dismissed that idea. Eve would -never make a mystery of meeting Doctor Squash, as she -called him.</p> - -<p>At last, as evening drew on, Jane arrived. Barbara -met her at the door and remonstrated with her.</p> - -<p>‘Please, miss, I could not help myself. I found Joseph -Woodman last night, and he said he must send for the -warders to identify the prisoner. Then, miss, he said I -was to wait till he had got the warders and some constables, -and when they was ready to come on I might -come too, but not before. I slept at my sister’s last -night.’</p> - -<p>‘Where are the men now?’</p> - -<p>‘They are about the house—some behind hedges, some -in the wood, some on the down.’</p> - -<p>Barbara shuddered.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Please miss, they have guns. And, miss, I were to -come on and tell the master that all was ready, and if he -would let them know where the man was they’d trap -him.’</p> - -<p>‘There is no man here but Mr. Babb.’</p> - -<p>Jane’s face fell.</p> - -<p>‘Lawk, miss! If Joseph thought us had been making -games of he, I believe he’d never marry me—and after -going to a Love Feast with him, too! ‘Twould be serious -that, surely.’</p> - -<p>‘Joseph has taken a long time coming.’</p> - -<p>‘Joseph takes things leisurely, miss—’tis his nature. -Us have been courting time out o’ mind; and, please, -miss, if the man were here, then the master was to give -the signal by pulling the alarm-bell. Then the police and -warders would close in on the house and take him.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was as pale now as when nearly fainting in -the morning. This was not the old Barbara with hale -cheeks, hearty eyes, and ripe lips, tall and firm, and -decided in all her movements. No! This was not at all -the old Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Well, Miss Jordan, what is troubling you?’ asked -Jasper. ‘The house is surrounded. Men are stationed -about it. No one can leave it without being challenged.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara quickly. ‘By the Abbot’s Well -there runs a path down between laurels, then over a stile -into the wood. It is still possible—will you go?’</p> - -<p>‘You do not trust me?’</p> - -<p>‘I wish to—but——’</p> - -<p>‘Will you do one thing more for me?’</p> - -<p>She looked timidly at him.</p> - -<p>‘Peal the alarm-bell.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c239" id="c239">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">CONFESSIONS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">As</span> the bell clanged Mr. Jordan came out of his door. He -had been ordered to remain quiet and take no exercise; -but now, leaning on his stick and holding the door jamb, -he came forth.</p> - -<p>‘What is this?’ he asked, and Jasper put his hand to -the rope to arrest the upward cast. ‘Why are you ringing, -Barbara? Who told you to do so?’</p> - -<p>‘I bade her ring,’ said Jasper, ‘to call these,’ he -pointed to the door.</p> - -<p>Several constables were visible; foremost came Joseph -and a prison warder.</p> - -<p>‘Take him!’ cried Mr. Jordan: ‘arrest the fellow. -Here he is—he is unarmed.’</p> - -<p>‘What! Mr. Jasper!’ asked Joseph. Among the servants -and labourers the young steward was only known as -Mr. Jasper. ‘Why, sir, this is—this is—Mr. Jasper!’</p> - -<p>‘This is the man,’ said Ignatius Jordan, clinging to -the door-jamb and pointing excitedly with his stick,—’this -is the man who robbed his own father of money that -was mine. This is the man who was locked up in jail and -broke out, and, by the mercy and justice of Heaven, was -cast at my door.’</p> - -<p>‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ said Joseph, ‘I don’t understand. -This is your steward, Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘Take him, handcuff him before my eyes. This is the -fellow you have been in search of; I deliver him up.’</p> - -<p>‘But, sir,’ said the warder, ‘you are wrong. This is -not our escaped convict.’</p> - -<p>‘He is, I tell you I know he is.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sorry to differ from you, sir, but this is not he. -I know which is which. Why, this chap’s hair have never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -been cut. If he’d been with us he’d have a head like a -mole’s back.’</p> - -<p>‘Not he!’ cried Mr. Jordan frantically. ‘I say to you -this is Jasper Babb.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir,’ said the warder, ‘sorry to differ, sir, but -our man ain’t Jasper at all—he’s Martin.’</p> - -<p>Then Joseph turned his light blue eyes round in quest -of Jane. ‘I’ll roast her! I’ll eat her,’ he muttered, ‘at -the next Love Feast.’</p> - -<p>The men went away much disappointed, grumbling, -swearing, ill-appeased by a glass of cider each; Jane -sulked in the kitchen, and said to Barbara, ‘This day -month, please, miss.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan, confounded, disappointed, crept back to -his room and cast himself on his bed.</p> - -<p>The only person in the house who could have helped -them out of their disappointment was Eve, who knew -something of the story of Martin, and knew, moreover, or -strongly suspected, that he was not very far off. But no -one thought of consulting Eve.</p> - -<p>When all the party of constables was gone, Barbara -stood in the garden, and Jasper came to her.</p> - -<p>‘You will tell me all now?’ she said, looking at him -with eyes full of thankfulness and trust.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Miss Jordan, everything. It is due to you. May -I sit here by you on the garden seat?’</p> - -<p>She seated herself, with a smile, and made room for -him, drawing her skirts to her.</p> - -<p>The ten-week stocks, purple and white, in a bed under -the window filled the air with perfume; but a sweeter -perfume than ten-week stocks, to Barbara, charged the -atmosphere—the perfume of perfect confidence. Was -Barbara plain? Who could think that must have no love -for beauty of expression. She had none of her sister’s -loveliness, but then Eve had none of hers. Each had a -charm of her own,—Eve the charm of exquisite physical -perfection, Barbara that of intelligence and sweet faith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -and complete self-devotion streaming out of eye and -mouth—indeed, out of every feature. Which is lovelier—the -lantern, or the light within? There was little of soul -and character in frivolous Eve.</p> - -<p>When Jasper seated himself beside Miss Jordan neither -spoke for full ten minutes. She folded her hands on her -lap. Perhaps their souls were, like the ten-week stocks, -exhaling sweetness.</p> - -<p>‘Dear Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, ‘how pleasantly the -thrushes are singing!’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘but I want to hear your story—I -can always listen to the thrushes.’</p> - -<p>He was silent after this for several minutes. She did -not further press him. She knew he would tell her all -when he had rallied his courage to do so. They heard -Eve upstairs in her room lightly singing a favourite air -from ‘Don Giovanni.’</p> - -<p>‘It is due to you,’ said Jasper at last. ‘I will hide -nothing from you, and I know your kind heart will bear -with me if I am somewhat long.’</p> - -<p>She looked round, smiled, just raised her fingers on -her lap and let them fall again.</p> - -<p>When Jasper saw that smile he thought he had never -seen a sweeter sight. And yet people said that Barbara -was plain!</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan, as you have heard, my brother Martin -took the money. Poor Martin! Poor, dear Martin! His -is a broken life, and it was so full of promise!’</p> - -<p>‘Did you love Martin very dearly?’</p> - -<p>‘I do love him dearly. I have pitied him so deeply. -He has had a hard childhood. I will tell you all, and -your good kind soul will pity, not condemn him. You -have no conception what a bright handsome lad he was. -I love to think of him as he was—guileless, brimming -with spirits. Unfortunately for us, our father had the -idea that he could mould his children’s character into -whatever shape he desired, and he had resolved to make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -of Martin a Baptist minister, so he began to write on his -tender heart the hard tenets of Calvinism, with an iron -pen dipped in gall. When my brother and I played -together we were happy—happy as butterflies in the sun. -When we heard our father’s voice or saw him, we ran -away and hid behind bushes. He interfered with our pursuits, -he sneered at our musical tastes, he tried to stop our -practising on the violin. We were overburdened with -religion, had texts rammed into us as they ram groats -down the throats of Strasburg geese. Our livers became -diseased like these same geese—our moral livers. Poor -Martin could least endure this education: it drove him -desperate. He did what was wrong through sheer provocation. -By nature he is good. He has a high spirit, and -that led him into revolt.’</p> - -<p>‘I have seen your brother Martin,’ said Barbara. -‘When you were brought insensible to this house he was -with you.’</p> - -<p>‘What did you think of him?’ asked Jasper, with -pride in his tone.</p> - -<p>‘I did not see his face, he never removed his hat.’</p> - -<p>‘Has he not a pleasant voice! and he is so grand and -generous in his demeanour!’</p> - -<p>Barbara said nothing. Jasper waited, expecting some -word of praise.</p> - -<p>‘Tell me candidly what you thought of him,’ said -Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘I do not like to do so. I did form an opinion of him, -but—it was not favourable.’</p> - -<p>‘You saw him for too short a time to be able to judge,’ -said the young man. ‘It never does to condemn a man -off-hand without knowing his circumstances. Do you -know, Miss Jordan, that saying of St. Paul about premature -judgments? He bids us not judge men, for the -Great Day will reveal the secrets of all hearts, and then—what -is his conclusion? “All men will be covered with -confusion and be condemned of men and angels”? Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -so—”Then shall every man have praise of the Lord.” -Their motives will show better than their deeds.’</p> - -<p>‘How sweetly the thrushes are singing!’ said Barbara -now; then—’So also Eve may be misunderstood.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Miss Jordan! when I consider what Martin might -have become in better hands, with more gentle and sympathetic -treatment, it makes my heart bleed. I assure -you my boyhood was spent in battling with the fatal -influences that surrounded him. At last matters came to -a head. Our father wanted to send Martin away to be -trained for a preacher, and Martin took the journey money -provided him, and joined a company of players. He had -a good voice, and had been fairly taught to sing. Whether -he had any dramatic talent I can hardly say. After an -absence of a twelvemonth or more he returned. He was -out of his place, and professed penitence. I dare say he -really was sorry. He remained a while at home, but could -not get on with our father, who was determined to have -his way with Martin, and Martin was equally resolved not -to become a Dissenting minister. To me it was amazing -that my father should persevere, because it was obvious -that Martin had no vocation for the pastorate; but my -father is a determined man. Having made up his mind -that Martin was to be a preacher, he would not be moved -from it. In our village a couple of young men resolved to -go to America. They were friends of Martin, and persuaded -him to join them. He asked my father to give -him a fit-out and let him go. But no—the old gentleman -was not to be turned from his purpose. Then a temptation -came in poor Martin’s way, and he yielded to it in a -thoughtless moment, or, perhaps, when greatly excited by -an altercation with his father. He took the money and -ran away.’</p> - -<p>‘He did not go to America?’</p> - -<p>‘No, Miss Jordan. He rejoined the same dramatic -company with which he had been connected before. That -was how he was caught.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘And the money?’</p> - -<p>‘Some of it was recovered, but what he had done with -most of it no one knows; the poor thriftless lad least of -all. I dare say he gave away pounds right and left to all -who made out a case of need to him.’</p> - -<p>Then these two, sitting in the garden perfumed with -stocks, heard Eve calling Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘It is nothing,’ said Barbara; ‘Eve is tired of polishing -her spangles, and so wants me. I cannot go to her now: -I must hear the end of your story.’</p> - -<p>‘I was on my way to this place,’ Jasper continued, -‘when I had to pass through Prince’s Town. I found my -other brother there, Walter, who is also devoted to our -poor Martin; Walter had found means of communicating -with his brother, and had contrived plans of escape. He -had a horse in readiness, and one day, when the prisoners -were cutting turf on the moor, his comrades built a turf-stack -round Martin, and the warders did not discover that -he was missing till he had made off. Walter persuaded -me to remain a day or two in the place to assist in carrying -out the escape, which was successfully executed. We got -away off Dartmoor, avoided Tavistock, and lost ourselves -on these downs, but were making for the Tamar, that we -might cross into Cornwall by bridge or ferry, or by swimming -our horses; and then we thought to reach Polperro -and send Martin out of the kingdom in any ship that -sailed.’</p> - -<p>‘Why did you not tell me this at once, when you came -to our house?’ asked Barbara, with a little of her old -sharpness.</p> - -<p>‘Because I did not know you then, Miss Jordan; I -could not be sure that you might be trusted.’</p> - -<p>She shook her head. ‘Oh, Mr. Jasper! I am not -trustworthy. I did betray what I believed to be your -secret.’</p> - -<p>‘Your very trustiness made you a traitor,’ he answered -courteously. ‘Your first duty was to your sister.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Why did you allow me to suppose that you were the -criminal?’</p> - -<p>‘You had found the prison clothes, and at first I sought -to screen my brother. I did not know where Martin was; -I wished to give him ample time for escape by diverting -suspicion to myself.’</p> - -<p>‘But afterwards? You ought, later, to have undeceived -me,’ she said, with a shake in her voice, and a little accent -of reproach.</p> - -<p>‘I shrank from doing that. I thought when you visited -Buckfastleigh you would have found out the whole story; -but my father was reticent, and you came away without -having learned the truth. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps a -lingering uneasiness about Martin, perhaps I felt that I -could not tell of my dear brother’s fall and disgrace. You -were cold, and kept me at a distance——’</p> - -<p>Then, greatly agitated, Barbara started up.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Mr. Jasper!’ she said with quivering voice, ‘what -cruel words I have spoken to you—to you so generous, so -true, so self-sacrificing! You never can forgive me; and -yet from the depth of my heart I desire your pardon. Oh, -Jasper! Mr.’—a sob broke the thread of her words—’Mr. -Jasper, when you were ill and unconscious, I studied your -face hour after hour, trying to read the evil story of your -life there, and all I read was pure, and noble, and true. -How can I make you amends for the wrong I have done -you!’</p> - -<p>As she stood, humbled, with heaving bosom and throat -choking—Eve came with skips and laugh along the gravel -walk. ‘I have found you!’ she exclaimed, and clapped -her hands.</p> - -<p>‘And I—and I——’ gasped Barbara—’I have found -how I may reward the best of men. There! there!’ she -said, clasping Eve’s hand and drawing her towards Jasper. -‘Take her! I have stood between you too long; but, on -my honour, only because I thought you unworthy of her.’</p> - -<p>She put Eve’s hand in that of Jasper, then before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -either had recovered from the surprise occasioned by her -words and action, she walked back into the house, gravely, -with erect head, dignified as ever.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c246" id="c246">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE PIPE OF PEACE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> went to her room. She ran up the stairs: her -stateliness was gone when she was out of sight. She bolted -her door, threw herself on her knees beside her bed, and -buried her face in the counterpane.</p> - -<p>‘I am so happy!’ she said; but her happiness can -hardly have been complete, for the bed vibrated under her -weight—shook so much that it shook down a bunch of -crimson carnations she had stuck under a sacred picture at -the head of the bed, and the red flowers fell about her dark -hair, and strewed themselves on the counterpane round her -head. She did not see them. She did not feel them.</p> - -<p>If she had been really and thoroughly happy when at -last she rose from her knees, her cheeks would not have -shone with tears, nor would her handkerchief have been so -wet that she hung it out of her window to dry it, and took -another from her drawer.</p> - -<p>Then she went to her glass and brushed her hair, which -was somewhat ruffled, and she dipped her face in the -basin.</p> - -<p>After that she was more herself. She unlocked her -desk and from it took a small box tied round with red -ribbon. Within this box was a shagreen case, and in this -case a handsome rosewood pipe, mounted in silver.</p> - -<p>This pipe had belonged to her uncle, and it was one of -the little items that had come to her. Indeed, in the -division of family relics, she had chosen this. Her cousins -had teased her, and asked whether it was intended for her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -future husband. She had made no other reply than that -she fancied it, and so she had kept it. When she selected -it, she had thought of Jasper. He smoked occasionally. -Possibly, she thought she might some day give it him, -when he had proved himself to be truly repentant.</p> - -<p>Now he was clear from all guilt, she must make him -the present—a token of complete reconciliation. She -dusted the pretty bowl with her clean pocket-handkerchief, -and looked for the lion and head to make sure that the -mounting was real silver. Then she took another look at -herself in the glass, and came downstairs, carrying the -calumet of peace enclosed in its case.</p> - -<p>She found Jasper sitting with Eve on the bench where -she had left them. They at once made way for her. He -rose, and refused to sit till she had taken his place.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jasper,’ she said, and she had regained entire self-command, -‘this is a proud and happy day for all of us—for -you, for Eve, and for me. I have been revolving in my -mind how to mark it and what memorial of it to give to -you as a pledge of peace established, misunderstandings -done away. I have been turning over my desk as well as -my mind, and have found what is suitable. My uncle won -this at a shooting-match. He was a first-rate shot.’</p> - -<p>‘And the prize,’ said Jasper, ‘has fallen into hands -that make very bad shots.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean? Oh!’ Barbara laughed and -coloured. ‘You led me into that mistake about yourself.’</p> - -<p>‘This is the bad shot I mean,’ said Jasper: ‘you have -brought Miss Eve here to me, and neither does Eve want -me, nor do I her.’</p> - -<p>Barbara opened her eyes very wide. ‘Have you -quarrelled?’ she inquired, turning to see the faces of -Jasper and her sister. Both were smiling with a malicious -humour.</p> - -<p>‘Not at all. We are excellent friends.’</p> - -<p>‘You do not love Eve?’</p> - -<p>‘I like Eve, I love someone else.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> - -<p>The colour rushed into Barbara’s face, and then as suddenly -deserted it. What did he mean? A sensation of -vast happiness overspread her, and then ebbed away. -Perhaps he loved someone at Buckfastleigh. She, plain, -downright Barbara—what was she for such a man as Jasper -had approved himself? She quickly recovered herself, -and said, ‘We were talking about the pipe.’</p> - -<p>‘Quite so,’ answered Jasper. ‘Let us return to the -pipe. You give it me—your uncle’s prize pipe?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, heartily. I have kept it in my desk unused, as it -has been preserved since my uncle’s death; but you must -use it; and I hope the tobacco will taste nice through it.’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Jordan,’ said Jasper, ‘you have shown me such -high honour, that I feel bound to honour the gift in a -special manner. I can only worthily do so by promising -to smoke out of no other pipe so long as this remains entire, -and should an accident befall it, to smoke out of no -other not replaced by your kind self.’</p> - -<p>Eve clapped her hands.</p> - -<p>‘A rash promise,’ said Barbara. ‘You are at liberty -to recall it. If I were to die, and the pipe were broken, -you would be bound to abjure smoking.’</p> - -<p>‘If you were to die, dear Miss Jordan, I should bury -the pipe in your grave, and something far more precious -than that.’</p> - -<p>‘What?’</p> - -<p>‘Can you ask?’ He looked her in the eyes, and again -her colour came, deep as the carnations that had strewed -her head.</p> - -<p>‘There, there!’ he said, ‘we will not talk of graves, -and broken pipes, and buried hearts; we will get the pipe -to work at once, if the ladies do not object.’</p> - -<p>‘I will run for the tinder-box,’ said Eve eagerly.</p> - -<p>‘I have my amadou and steel with me, and tobacco,’ -Jasper observed; ‘and mind, Miss Barbara is to consecrate -the pipe for ever by drawing out of it the first whiff of -smoke.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - -<p>Barbara laughed. She would do that. Her heart was -wonderfully light, and clear of clouds as that sweet still -evening sky.</p> - -<p>The pipe was loaded; Eve ran off to the kitchen to -fetch a stick out of the fire with glowing end, because, she -said, ‘she did not like the smell of the burning amadou.’</p> - -<p>Jasper handed the pipe to Barbara, who, with an effort -to be demure, took it.</p> - -<p>‘Are you ready?’ asked Jasper, who was whirling the -stick, making a fiery ring in the air.</p> - -<p>Barbara had put the pipe between her lips, precisely in -the middle of her mouth.</p> - -<p>‘No, that will not do,’ said the young man; ‘put the -pipe in the side of your mouth. Where it is now I cannot -light it without burning the tip of your nose.’</p> - -<p>Barbara put her little finger into the bowl to assure -herself that it was full. Eve was on her knees at her sister’s -feet, her elbows on her lap, looking up amused and -delighted. Barbara kept her neck and back erect, and her -chin high in the air. A smile was on her face, but no tremor -in her lip. Eve burst into a fit of laughter. ‘Oh, -Bab, you look so unspeakably droll!’ But Barbara did -not laugh and let go the pipe. Her hands were down on -the bench, one on each side of her. She might have been -sitting in a dentist’s chair to have a tooth drawn. She -was a little afraid of the consequences; nevertheless, she -had undertaken to smoke, and smoke she would—one whiff, -no more.</p> - -<p>‘Ready?’ asked Jasper.</p> - -<p>She could not answer, because her lips grasped the pipe -with all the muscular force of which they were capable. -She replied by gravely and slowly bowing her head.</p> - -<p>‘This is our calumet of peace, is it not, Miss Jordan? -A lasting peace never to be broken—never?’</p> - -<p>She replied again only by a serious bow, head and pipe -going down and coming up again.</p> - -<p>‘Ready?’ Jasper brought the red-hot coal in contact<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -with the tobacco in the bowl. The glow kindled Barbara’s -face. She drew a long, a conscientiously long, breath. -Then her brows went up in query.</p> - -<p>‘Is it alight?’ asked Eve, interpreting the question.</p> - -<p>‘Wait a moment——Yes,’ answered Jasper.</p> - -<p>Then a long spiral of white smoke, like a jet of steam -from a kettle that is boiling, issued from Barbara’s lips, -and rose in a perfect white ring. Her eyes followed the -ring.</p> - -<p>At that moment—bang! and again—bang!—the discharge -of firearms.</p> - -<p>The pipe fell into her lap.</p> - -<p>‘What is that?’ asked Eve, springing to her feet. -They all hurried out of the garden, and stood in front of -the house, looking up and down the lane.</p> - -<p>‘Stay here and I will see,’ said Jasper. ‘There may -be poachers near.’</p> - -<p>‘In pity do not leave us, or I shall die of fear,’ cried -Eve.</p> - -<p>The darkness had deepened. A few stars were visible. -Voices were audible, and the tread of men in the lane. -Then human figures were visible. It was too dark at first -to distinguish who they were, and the suspense was great.</p> - -<p>As, however, they drew nearer, Jasper and the girls -saw that the party consisted of Joseph, the warder, and a -couple of constables, leading a prisoner.</p> - -<p>‘We have got him,’ said Joseph Woodman, ‘the right -man at last.’</p> - -<p>‘Whom have you got?’ asked Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Whom!—why, the escaped felon, Martin Babb.’</p> - -<p>A cry. Eve had fainted.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c251" id="c251">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">TAKEN!</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">We</span> must go back in time, something like an hour and a -half or two hours, and follow the police and warders after -they left Morwell, to understand how it happened that -Martin fell into their hands. They had retired sulky and -grumbling. They had been brought a long way, the two -warders a very long way, for nothing. When they reached -the down, one of the warders observed that he was darned -if he had not turned his ankle on the rough stones of the -lane. The other said he reckoned they had been shabbily -treated, and it was not his ankle but his stomach had been -turned by a glass of cider sent down into emptiness. Some -cold beef and bread was what he wanted. Whereat he was -snapped at by the other, who advised him to kill one of the -bullocks on the moor and make his meal on that.</p> - -<p>‘Hearken,’ said Joseph; ‘brothers, an idea has struck -me. We have not captured the man, and so we shan’t -have the reward.’</p> - -<p>‘Has it taken you half an hour to discover that?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ answered Joseph simply. ‘Thinking and -digesting are much the same. I ain’t a caterpillar that -can eat and digest at once.’</p> - -<p>‘I wish I’d had another glass of cider,’ said one of the -constables, ‘but these folk seemed in a mighty haste to -get rid of us.’</p> - -<p>‘There is the “Hare and Hounds” at Goatadon,’ said -Joseph.</p> - -<p>‘That is a long bit out of the road,’ remonstrated the -constable.</p> - -<p>‘What is time to us police!’ answered Joseph. ‘It is -made to be killed, like a flea.’</p> - -<p>‘And hops away as fast,’ said another.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Let us get back to Tavistock,’ said a warder.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, if you wish it,’ answered Joseph; ‘only it do -seem a cruel pity.’</p> - -<p>‘What is a pity?’</p> - -<p>‘Why, that you should ha’ come so far and not seen -the greatest wonder of the world.’</p> - -<p>‘What may that be?’</p> - -<p>‘The fat woman,’ answered Joseph Woodman. ‘The -landlady of the “Hare and Hounds.” You might as well -go to Egypt and not see the pyramids, or to Rome and not -see the Pope, or to London and not see the Tower.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t make any account of fat women,’ said the -warder, who had turned his ankle.</p> - -<p>‘But this,’ argued Joseph, ‘is a regular marvel. She’s -the fattest woman out of a caravan—I believe the fattest -in England; I dare say the very fattest in the known -world. What there be in the stars I can’t say.’</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ said the warder, who had turned his stomach, -‘what do <i>you</i> call fat?’ He was in a captious mood.</p> - -<p>‘What do I call fat?’ repeated Joseph; ‘why, that -woman. Brother, if you and I were to stretch our arms -at the farthest, taking hold of each other with one -hand, we couldn’t compass her and take hold with the -other.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t believe it,’ said the warder emphatically.</p> - -<p>‘’Tain’t possible a mortal could be so big,’ said the -other warder.</p> - -<p>‘I swear it,’ said Joseph with great earnestness.</p> - -<p>‘There is never a woman in the world,’ said the warder -with the bad ankle, ‘whose waist I couldn’t encircle, and -I’ve tried lots.’</p> - -<p>‘But I tell you this woman is out of the common -altogether.’</p> - -<p>‘Have you ever tried?’ sneered the warder with the -bad stomach.</p> - -<p>‘No, but I’ve measured her with my eye.’</p> - -<p>‘The eye is easy deceived as to distances and dimensions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -Why, Lord bless you! I’ve seen in a fog a sheep -on the moor look as big as a hippopotamus.’</p> - -<p>‘But the landlady is not on the moor nor in a fog,’ -persisted Joseph. ‘I bet you half-a-guinea, laid out in -drink, that ‘tis as I say.’</p> - -<p>‘Done!’ said both warders. ‘Done!’ said the constables, -and turning to their right, they went off to the -‘Hare and Hounds,’ two miles out of their way, to see the -fat woman and test her dimensions.</p> - -<p>Now this change in the destination of the party led to -the capture of Martin, and to the wounding of the warder -who complained of his stomach.</p> - -<p>The party reached the little tavern—a poor country inn -built where roads crossed—a wretched house, tarred over -its stone face as protection against the driving rains. They -entered, and the hostess cheerfully consented to having -her girth tested. She was accustomed to it. Her fatness -was part of her stock-in-trade: it drew customers to the -‘Hare and Hounds’ who otherwise would have gone on to -Beer Alston, where was a pretty and pert maid.</p> - -<p>Whilst the officers were refreshing themselves, and one -warder had removed his boot to examine his ankle, the -door of the room where they sat was opened and Martin -came in, followed by Watt. His eyes were dazzled, as the -room was strongly lighted, and he did not at first observe -who were eating and drinking there. It was in this lonely -inn that he and Walter were staying and believed themselves -quite safe. A few miners were the only persons -they met there.</p> - -<p>As Martin stood in the doorway looking at the party, -whilst his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, one of -the warders started up. ‘That is he! Take him! Our -man!’</p> - -<p>Instantly all sprang to their feet except Joseph, who -was leisurely in all his movements, and the warder with -bare foot, without considering fully what he did, threw his -boot at Martin’s head.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - -<p>Martin turned at once and ran, and the men dashed -out of the inn after him, both warders catching up their -guns, and he who was bootless running, forgetful of his -ankle, with bare foot.</p> - -<p>The night was light enough for Martin to be seen, -with the boy running beside him, across the moor. The -fires were still flickering and glowing; the gorse had been -burnt and so no bushes could be utilised as a screen. His -only chance of escape was to reach the woods, and he ran -for Morwell.</p> - -<p>But Martin, knowing that there were firearms among -his pursuers, dared not run in a direct line; he swerved -from side to side, and dodged, to make it difficult for them -to take aim. This gave great facilities to the warder who -had both boots on, and who was a wiry, long-legged -fellow, to gain on Martin.</p> - -<p>‘Halt!’ shouted he, ‘halt, or I fire!’</p> - -<p>Then Martin turned abruptly and discharged a pistol -at him. The man staggered, but before he fell he fired at -Martin, but missed.</p> - -<p>Almost immediately Martin saw some black figures in -front of him, and stood, hesitating what to do. The figures -were those of boys who were spreading the fires among the -furze bushes, but he thought that his course was intercepted -by his pursuers. Before he had decided where to -run he was surrounded and disarmed.</p> - -<p>The warder was so seriously hurt that he was at once -placed on a gate and carried on the shoulders of four of -the constables to Beer Alston, to be examined by Mr. -Coyshe and the ball extracted. This left only three to -guard the prisoner, one of whom was the warder who had -sprained his ankle, and had been running with that foot -bare, and who was now not in a condition to go much -farther.</p> - -<p>‘There is nothing for it,’ said Joseph, who was highly -elated, ‘but for us to go on to Morwell. We must lock -the chap up there. In that old house there are scores of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -strong places where the monks were imprisoned. To-morrow -we can take him to Tavistock.’ Joseph did not -say that Jane Welsh was at Morwell; this consideration, -doubtless, had something to do with determining the -arrangement. On reaching Morwell, which they did -almost at once, for Martin had been captured on the -down near the entrance to the lane, the first inquiry -was for a safe place where the prisoner might be -bestowed.</p> - -<p>Jane, hearing the noise, and, above all, the loved voice -of Joseph, ran out.</p> - -<p>‘Jane,’ said the policeman, ‘where can we lock the -rascal up for the night?’</p> - -<p>She considered for a moment, and then suggested the -corn-chamber. That was over the cellar, the walls lined -with slate, and the floor also of slate. It had a stout oak -door studded with nails, and access was had to it from the -quadrangle, up a flight of stone steps. There was no window -to it. ‘I’ll go ask Miss Barbara for the key,’ she said. -‘There is nothing in it now but some old onions. But’—she -paused—’if he be locked up there all night, he’ll -smell awful of onions in the morning.’</p> - -<p>Reassured that this was of no importance, Jane went -to her mistress for the key. Barbara came out and listened -to the arrangement, to which she gave her consent, coldly. -The warder could now only limp. She was shocked to -hear of the other having been shot.</p> - -<p>A lack of hospitality had been shown when the constables -and warders came first, through inadvertence, not -intentionally. Now that they desired to remain the night -at Morwell and guard there the prisoner, Barbara gave -orders that they should be made comfortable in the hall. -One would have to keep guard outside the door where -Martin was confined, the other two would spend the night -in the hall, the window of which commanded the court -and the stairs that led to the corn-chamber. ‘I won’t -have the men in the kitchen,’ said Barbara, ‘or the maids<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -will lose their heads and nothing will be done.’ Besides, -the kitchen was out of the way of the corn-chamber.</p> - -<p>‘We shall want the key of the corn-store,’ said Joseph, -‘if we may have it, miss.’</p> - -<p>‘Why not stow the fellow in the cellar?’ asked a -constable.</p> - -<p>‘For two reasons,’ answered Joseph. ‘First, because -he would drink the cider; and second, because—no offence -meant, miss—we hope that the maids’ll be going to and -fro to the cellar with the pitcher pretty often.’</p> - -<p>Joseph was courting the maid of the house, and therefore -thought it well to hint to Barbara what was expected -of the house to show that it was free and open.</p> - -<p>The corn-room was unlocked, a light obtained, and it -was thoroughly explored. It was floored with large slabs -of slate, and the walls were lined six feet high with slate, -as a protection against rats and mice. Joseph progged -the walls above that. All sound, not a window. He -examined the door: it was of two-inch oak plank, and the -hinges of stout iron. In the corner of the room was a -heap of onions that had not been used the preceding -winter. A bundle of straw was procured and thrown -down.</p> - -<p>‘Lie there, you dog, you murderous dog!’ said one -of the men, casting Martin from him. ‘Move at your -peril!’</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ said the lame warder, ‘I only wish you would -make another attempt to escape that I might give you a -leaden breakfast.’ He limped badly. In running he had -cut his bare foot and it bled, and he had trodden on the -prickles of the gorse, which had made it very painful.</p> - -<p>‘There’s a heap of onions for your pillow,’ said Joseph. -‘Folks say they are mighty helpful to sleep—’ this was -spoken satirically; then with a moral air—’But, sure -enough, there’s no sleeping, even on an onion pillow, -without a good conscience.’</p> - -<p>As the men were to spend the night without sleep—one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -out of doors, to be relieved guard by the other, the -lame warder alone excused the duty, as he was unable to -walk—Barbara ordered a fire to be lighted in the great -hall. The nights were not cold, but damp; the sky was -clear, and the dew fell heavily. It would, moreover, be -cheerful for the men to sit over a wood fire through the -long night, and take naps by it if they so liked. Supper -was produced and laid on the oak table by Jane, who ogled -Joseph every time she entered and left the hall.</p> - -<p>She placed a jug on the table. Joseph went after -her.</p> - -<p>‘You are a dear maid,’ he said, ‘but one jug don’t go -far. You must mind the character of the house and -maintain it. I see cold mutton. It is good, but chops -are better. This ain’t an inn. It’s a gentleman’s house. -I see cheese. Ain’t there anywhere a tart and cream? -Mr. Jordan is not a farmer: he’s a squire. I’d not have -it said of me I was courting a young person in an inferior -situation.’</p> - -<p>The fire was made up with a faggot. It blazed merrily. -Joseph sat before it with his legs outspread, smiling -at the flames; he had his hands on his knees. After -having run hard and got hot he felt chilled, and the fire -was grateful. Moreover, his hint had been taken. Two -jugs stood on the table, and hot chops and potatoes had -been served. He had eaten well, he had drunk well. All -at once he laughed.</p> - -<p>‘What is the joke, Joe?’</p> - -<p>‘I’ve an idea, brother. If t’other warder dies I shall -not have to pay the half-guinea because I lost my bet. -He was so confounded long in the arm. That will be -prime! And—we shall share the reward without him! -Beautiful!’</p> - -<p>‘Umph! Has it taken you all this time to find that -out? I saw it the moment the shot struck. That’s why -I ran on with a bad foot.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c258" id="c258">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">GONE!</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Neither</span> Jasper, Barbara, nor Eve appeared. Mr. Jordan -was excited, and had to be told what had taken place, and -this had to be done by Jasper. Barbara was with her -sister. Eve had recovered, and had confessed everything. -Now all was clear to the eyes of Barbara. The meeting -on the Raven Rock had been the one inexplicable point, -and now that was explained. Eve hid nothing from her -sister; she told her about the first meeting with Martin, -his taking the ring, then about the giving of the turquoise -ring, finally about the meeting on the Rock. The story -was disquieting. Eve had been very foolish. The only -satisfaction to Barbara was the thought that the cause of -uneasiness was removed, and about to be put beyond the -power of doing further mischief. Eve would never see -Martin again. She had seen so little of him that he could -have produced on her heart but a light and transient impression. -The romance of the affair had been the main -charm with Eve.</p> - -<p>When Jasper left the squire’s room, after a scene that -had been painful, Barbara came to him and said, ‘I know -everything now. Eve met your brother Martin on the -Raven Rock. He has been trying to win her affections. -In this also you have been wrongly accused by me.’ Then -with a faint laugh, but with a timid entreating look, ‘I -can do no more than confess now, I have such a heavy -burden of amends to make.’</p> - -<p>‘Will it be a burden, Barbara?’</p> - -<p>She put her hand lightly on his arm.</p> - -<p>‘No, Jasper—a delight.’</p> - -<p>He stooped and kissed her hand. Little or nothing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -had passed between them, yet they understood each -other.</p> - -<p>‘Hist! for shame!’ said a sharp voice through the -garden window. She looked and saw the queer face of -Watt.</p> - -<p>‘That is too cruel, Jasp—love-making when our poor -Martin is in danger! I did not expect it of you.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was confused. The boy’s face could ill be -discerned, as there was no candle in the room, and all -the light, such as there was—a silvery summer twilight—flowed -in at the window, and was intercepted by his -head.</p> - -<p>‘Selfish, Jasp! and you, miss—if you are going to -enter the family, you should begin to consider other members -than Jasper,’ continued the boy. All his usual -mockery was gone from his voice, which expressed alarm -and anxiety. ‘There lies poor Martin in a stone box, on a -little straw, without a mouthful, and his keepers are given -what they like!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Jasper!’ said Barbara with a start, ‘I am so -ashamed of myself. I forgot to provide for him.’</p> - -<p>‘You have not considered, I presume, what will become -of poor Martin. In self-defence he shot at a warder, and -whether he wounded or killed him I cannot say. Poor -Martin! Seven years will be spread into fourteen, perhaps -twenty-one. What will he be when he comes out of -prison! What shall I do all these years without him!’</p> - -<p>‘Walter,’ said Jasper, going to the window, and speaking -in a subdued voice, ‘what can be done? I am sorry -enough for him, but I can do nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, you will not try.’</p> - -<p>‘Tell me, what can I do?’</p> - -<p>‘There! let <i>her</i>,’ he pointed to Barbara, ‘let her -come over here and speak with me. Everything now -depends on her.’</p> - -<p>‘On me!’ exclaimed Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Ah, on you. But do not shout. I can hear if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -whisper. Miss, that poor fellow in the stone box is -Jasper’s brother. If you care at all for Jasper, you will -not interfere. I do not ask you to move a finger to help -Martin: I ask you only not to stand in others’ way.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘Go into the hall, you and Jasper, instead of standing -sighing and billing here. Allow me to be there also. -There are two more men arrived—two of those who carried -the winged snipe away. That makes four inside and -one outside; but one is lamed and without his boot. Feed -them all well. Don’t spare cider; and give them spirits-and-water. -Help to amuse them.’</p> - -<p>‘For what end?’</p> - -<p>‘That is no concern of yours. For what end! Hospitality, -the most ancient of virtues. Above all, do not -interfere with the other one.’</p> - -<p>‘What other one?’</p> - -<p>‘You know—Miss Eve,’ whispered the boy. ‘Let the -maidens in, the housemaid certainly; she has a sweetheart -among them, and the others will make pickings.’</p> - -<p>Then, without waiting for an answer, the queer boy -ran along the gravel path and leaped the dwarf wall into -the stable yard, which lay at a lower level.</p> - -<p>‘What does he mean?’ asked Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘He means,’ said Jasper, ‘that he is going to make an -attempt to get poor Martin off.’</p> - -<p>‘But how can he?’</p> - -<p>‘That I do not know.’</p> - -<p>‘And whether we ought to assist in such a venture I -do not know,’ said Barbara thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>‘Nor do I,’ said Jasper; ‘my heart says one thing, my -head the other.’</p> - -<p>‘We will follow our hearts,’ said Barbara vehemently, -and caught his hands and pressed them. ‘Jasper, he is -your brother; with me that is a chief consideration. Come -into the hall; we will give the men some music.’</p> - -<p>Jasper and Barbara went to the hall, and found that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -the warder had his foot bandaged in a chair, and seemed -to be in great pain. He was swearing at the constables -who had come from Beer Alston for not having called at -the ‘Hare and Hounds’ on their way for his boot. He -tried to induce one of them to go back for it; but the -sight of the fire, the jugs of cider, the plates heaped -with cake, made them unwilling again to leave the house.</p> - -<p>‘We ain’t a-going without our supper,’ was their retort. -‘You are comfortable enough here, with plenty to -eat and to drink.’</p> - -<p>‘But,’ complained the man, ‘I can’t go for my boot -myself, don’t you see?’ But see they would not. Jane -had forgotten all her duties about the house in the excitement -of having her Joseph there. She had stolen into the -hall, and got her policeman into a corner.</p> - -<p>‘When is it your turn to keep guard, Joe?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>‘Not for another hour,’ he replied. ‘I wish I hadn’t -to go out at all.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Joe, I’ll go and keep guard with you!’</p> - -<p>Also the cook stole in with a bowl and a sponge, -and a strong savour of vinegar. She had come to bathe -the warder’s foot, unsolicited, moved only by a desire to do -good, doubtless. Also the under-housemaid’s beady eyes -were visible at the door looking in to see if more fuel were -required for the fire.</p> - -<p>Clearly, there was no need for Barbara to summon her -maids. As a dead camel in the desert attracts all the -vultures within a hundred miles, so the presence of these -men in the hall drew to them all the young women in the -house.</p> - -<p>When they saw their mistress enter, they exhibited -some hesitation. Barbara, however, gave them a nod, and -more was not needed to encourage them to stay.</p> - -<p>‘Jane,’ said Barbara, ‘here is the key. Fetch a couple -of bottles of Jamaica rum, or one of rum and one of -brandy. Patience,’ to the under-housemaid, ‘bring hot -water, sugar, tumblers, and spoons.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span></p> - -<p>A thrill of delight passed through the hearts of the -men, and their eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p>Then in at the door came the boy with his violin, -fiddling, capering, dancing, making faces. In a moment -he sprang on the table, seated himself, and began to play -some of the pretty ‘Don Giovanni’ dance music.</p> - -<p>He signed to Barbara with his bow, and pointed to the -piano in the parlour, the door of which was open. She -understood him and went in, lit the candles, and took a -‘Don Giovanni’ which her sister had bought, and practised -with Jasper. Then he signed to his brother, and -Jasper also took down his violin, tuned it, and began to play.</p> - -<p>‘Let us bring the piano into the hall,’ said Barbara, -and the men started to fulfil her wish. Four of them conveyed -it from the parlour. At the same time the rum and -hot water appeared, the spoons clinked in the glasses. -Patience, the under-housemaid, threw a faggot on the -fire.</p> - -<p>‘What is that?’ exclaimed the lame warder, pointing -through the window.</p> - -<p>It was only the guard, who had extended his march to -the hall and put his face to the glass to look in at the -brew of rum-and-water, and the comfortable party about -the fire. ‘Go back on your beat, you scoundrel!’ shouted -the warder, menacing the constable with his fist. Then -the face disappeared; but every time the sentinel reached -the hall window, he applied his nose to the pane and stared -in thirstily at the grog that steamed and ran down the -throats of his comrades, and cursed the duty that kept him -without in the falling dew. His appearance at intervals at -the glass, where the fire and candlelight illumined his -face, was like that of a fish rising to the surface of a -pond to breathe.</p> - -<p>‘Is your time come yet outside, Joe dear?’ whispered -Jane.</p> - -<p>‘Hope not,’ growled Joseph, helping himself freely to -rum; putting his hand round the tumbler, so that none<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -might observe how high the spirit stood in the glass -before he added the water.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Joe duckie, don’t say that. I’ll go and keep you -company on the stone steps: we’ll sit there in the moonlight -all alone, as sweet as anything.’</p> - -<p>‘You couldn’t ekal this grog’ answered the unromantic -Joseph, ‘if you was ever so sweet. I’ve put in four lumps -of double-refined.’</p> - -<p>‘You’ve a sweet tooth, Joe,’ said Jane.</p> - -<p>‘Shall I bathe your poor suffering foot again?’ asked -the cook, casting languishing eyes at the warder.</p> - -<p>‘By-and-by, when the liquor is exhausted,’ answered -the warder.</p> - -<p>‘Would you like a little more hot water to the spirit?’ -said Patience, who was setting—as it is termed in dance -phraseology—at the youngest of the constables.</p> - -<p>‘No, miss, but I’d trouble you for a little more spirit,’ -he answered, ‘to qualify the hot water.’</p> - -<p>Then the scullery-maid, who had also found her way -in, blocked the other constable in the corner, and offered -to sugar his rum. He was a married man, middle-aged, -and with a huge disfiguring mole on his nose; but there -was no one else for the damsel to ogle and address, so she -fixed upon him.</p> - -<p>All at once, whilst this by-play was going on, under -cover of the music, the door from the staircase opened, -and in sprang Eve, with her tambourine, dressed in the -red-and-yellow costume she had found in the garret, and -wearing her burnished necklace of bezants. Barbara -withdrew her hands from the piano in dismay, and flushed -with shame.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ she exclaimed, ‘go back! How can you!’ -But the boy from the table beckoned again to her, pointing -to the piano, and her fingers; Eve skipped up to her -and whispered, ‘Let me alone, for Jasper’s sake,’ then -bounded into the middle of the hall, and rattled her -tambourine and clinked its jingles.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span></p> - -<p>The men applauded, and tossed off their rum-and-water; -then, having finished the rum, mixed themselves -eagerly hot jorums of brandy.</p> - -<p>The face was at the window, with the nose flat and -white against the glass, like a dab of putty.</p> - -<p>Barbara’s forehead darkened, and she drew her lips -together. Her conscience was not satisfied. She suspected -that this behaviour of Eve was what Walter had alluded -to when he begged her not to interfere. Walter had seen -Eve, and planned it with her. Was she right, Barbara -asked herself, in what she was doing to help a criminal to -escape?</p> - -<p>The money he had taken was theirs—Eve’s; and if -Eve chose to forgive him and release him from his punishment, -why should she object? Martin was the brother of -Jasper, and for Jasper’s sake she must go on with what -she had begun.</p> - -<p>So she put her fingers on the keys again, and at once -Watt and Jasper resumed their instruments. They played -the music in ‘Don Giovanni,’ in the last act, where the -banquet is interrupted by the arrival of the statue. Barbara -knew that Eve was dancing alone in the middle of -the floor before these men, before him also who ought to -be pacing up and down in front of the corn-chamber; but -she would not turn her head over her shoulder to look at -her, and her brow burnt, and her cheeks, usually pale, -flamed. As for Eve, she was supremely happy; the -applause of the lookers-on encouraged her. Her movements -were graceful, her beauty radiant. She looked like -Zerlina on the boards.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the boy dropped his bow, and before anyone -could arrest his hand, or indeed had a suspicion of mischief, -he threw a canister of gunpowder into the blazing fire. -Instantly there was an explosion. The logs were flung -about the floor, Eve and the maids screamed, the piano -and violins were hushed, doors were burst open, panes of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -glass broken and fell clinking, and every candle was extinguished. -Fortunately the hall floor was of slate.</p> - -<p>The men were the first to recover themselves—all, that -is, but the warder, who shrieked and swore because a red-hot -cinder had alighted on his bad foot.</p> - -<p>The logs were thrust together again upon the hearth, -and a flame sprang up.</p> - -<p>No one was hurt, but in the doorway, white, with wild -eyes, stood Mr. Jordan, signing with his hand, but unable -to speak.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ exclaimed Barbara, running -to him, ‘do go back to bed. No one is hurt. We have -had a fright, that is all.’</p> - -<p>‘Fools!’ cried the old man, brandishing his stick. -‘He is gone! I saw him—he ran past my window.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c265" id="c265">CHAPTER XL.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">ANOTHER SACRIFICE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Watt</span> was no longer in the hall. Whither he had gone -none knew; how he had gone none knew. The man in -the quadrangle was too alarmed by the glass panes being -blown out in his face, to see whether the boy had passed -that way. But, indeed, no one now gave thought to Watt; -the men ran to the corn-chamber to examine it. A lantern -was lighted, the door examined and found to be locked. -It was unfastened, and Joseph and the rest entered. The -light penetrated every corner, fell on the straw and the -onion-heap. Martin Babb was not there.</p> - -<p>‘May I be darned!’ exclaimed Joseph, holding the -lantern over his head. ‘I looked at the walls, at the floor, -at the door: I never thought of the roof, and it is by the -roof he has got away.’</p> - -<p>Indeed, the corn-chamber was unceiled. Martin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -possibly assisted, had reached the rafters, thence had -crept along the roof in the attics, and had entered the -room that belonged to the girls, and descended from the -window by the old Jargonelle pear.</p> - -<p>Then the constables and Joseph turned on the sentinel, -and heaped abuse upon him for not having warned them -of what was going on. It was in vain for him to protest -that from the outside he could not detect what was in -process of execution under the roof. Blame must attach -to someone, and he was one against four.</p> - -<p>Their tempers were not the more placable when it was -seen that the bottle of brandy had been upset and was -empty, the precious spirit having expended itself on the -floor.</p> - -<p>Then the question was mooted whether the fugitive -should not be pursued at once, but the production by -Barbara of another bottle of rum decided them not to do -so, but await the arrival of morning. Suddenly it occurred -to Joseph that the blame attached, not to any of those -present, who had done their utmost, but to the warder -who had been shot, and so had detached two of their -number, and had reduced the body so considerably by this -fatality as to incapacitate them from drawing a cordon -round the house and watching it from every side. If -that warder were to die, then the whole blame might -be shovelled upon him along with the earth into his -grave.</p> - -<p>The search was recommenced next day, but was ineffectual. -In which direction Martin had gone could not -be found. Absolutely no traces of him could be discovered.</p> - -<p>Presently Mr. Coyshe arrived, in a state of great excitement. -He had attended the wounded man, and had -heard an account of the capture; on his way to Morwell -the rumour reached him that the man had broken away -again. Mr. Coyshe had, as he put it, an inquiring mind. -He thirsted for knowledge, whether of scientific or of -social interest. Indeed, he took a lively interest in other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -people’s affairs. So he came on foot, as hard as he could -walk, to Morwell, to learn all particulars, and at the same -time pay a professional visit to Mr. Jordan.</p> - -<p>Barbara at once asked Mr. Coyshe into the parlour; -she wanted to have a word with him before he saw her -father.</p> - -<p>Barbara was very uneasy about Eve, whose frivolity, -lack of ballast, and want—as she feared—of proper self-respect -might lead her into mischief. How could her sister -have been so foolish as to dress up and dance last evening -before a parcel of common constables! To Barbara such -conduct was inconceivable. She herself was dignified and -stiff with her inferiors, and would as soon have thought of -acting before them as Eve had done as of jumping over -the moon. She did not consider how her own love and -that of her father had fostered caprice and vanity in the -young girl, till she craved for notice and admiration. Barbara -thought over all that Eve had told her: how she had -lost her mother’s ring, how she had received the ring of -turquoise, how she had met Martin on the Rock platform. -Every incident proclaimed to her mind the instability, the -lack of self-respect, in her sister. The girl needed to be -watched and put into firmer hands. She and her father -had spoiled her. Now that the mischief was done she -saw it.</p> - -<p>What better step could be taken to rectify the mistake -than that of bringing Mr. Coyshe to an engagement with -Eve?</p> - -<p>She was a straightforward, even blunt, girl, and when -she had an aim in view went to her work at once. So, -without beating about the bush, she said to the young -doctor—</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Coyshe, you did me the honour the other day of -confiding to me your attachment to Eve. I have been -considering it, and I want to know whether you intend at -once to speak to her. I told my father your wishes, and -he is, I believe, not indisposed to forward them.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I am delighted to hear it,’ said the surgeon; ‘I -would like above everything to have the matter settled, -but Miss Eve never gives me a chance of speaking to her -alone.’</p> - -<p>‘She is shy,’ said Barbara; then, thinking that this -was not exactly true, she corrected herself; ‘that is to -say—she, as a young girl, shrinks from what she expects -is coming from you. Can you wonder?’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t see it. I’m not an ogre.’</p> - -<p>‘Girls have feelings which, perhaps, men cannot comprehend,’ -said Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘I do not wish to be precipitate,’ observed the young -surgeon. ‘I’ll take a chair, please, and then I can explain -to you fully my circumstances and my difficulties.’ He -suited his action to his word, and graciously signed to -Barbara to sit on the sofa near his chair. Then he put -his hat between his feet, calmly took off his gloves and -threw them into his hat.</p> - -<p>‘I hate precipitation,’ said Mr. Coyshe. ‘Let us -thoroughly understand each other. I am a poor man. -Excuse me, Miss Jordan, if I talk in a practical manner. -You are long and clear headed, so—but I need not tell you -that—so am I. We can comprehend each other, and for a -moment lay aside that veil of romance and poetry which -invests an engagement.’</p> - -<p>Barbara bowed.</p> - -<p>‘An atmosphere surrounds a matrimonial alliance; let -us puff it away for a moment and look at the bare facts. -Seen from a poetic standpoint, marriage is the union of -two loving hearts, the rapture of two souls discovering -each other. From the sober ground of common sense it -means two loaves of bread a day instead of one, a milliner’s -bill at the end of the year in addition to that of the tailor, -two tons of coals where one had sufficed. I need not tell -you, being a prudent person, that when I am out for the -day my fire is not lighted. If I had a wife of course a fire -would have to burn all day. I may almost say that matrimony<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -means three tons of coal instead of one, and <i>you</i> -know how costly coals come here.’</p> - -<p>‘But, Mr. Coyshe——’</p> - -<p>‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I may be plain, but I am truthful. -I am putting matters before you in the way in which -I am forced to view them myself. When an ordinary individual -looks on a beautiful woman he sees only her -beauty. I see more; I anatomise her mentally, and follow -the bones, and nerves, and veins, and muscles. So -with this lovely matrimonial prospect. I see its charms, -but I see also what lies beneath, the anatomy, so to speak, -and that means increased coal, butcher’s, baker’s bills, -three times the washing, additional milliners’ accounts.’</p> - -<p>‘You know, Mr. Coyshe,’ said Barbara, a little startled -at the way he put matters, ‘you know that eventually -Morwell comes to Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Miss Jordan, if a man walks in stocking -soles, expecting his father-in-law’s shoes, he is likely to go -limpingly. How am I to live so long as Mr. Jordan lives? -I know I should flourish after his death—but in the mean -time—there is the rub. I’d marry Eve to-morrow but for -the expense.’</p> - -<p>‘Is there not something sordid——’ began Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘I will not allow you to finish a sentence, Miss Jordan, -which your good sense will reproach you for uttering. I -saw at a fair a booth with outside a picture of a mermaid -combing her golden hair, and with the face of an angel. -I paid twopence and went inside, to behold a seal flopping -in a tub of dirty water. All the great events of life—birth, -marriage, death—are idealised by poets, as that disgusting -seal was idealised on the canvas by the artist: -horrible things in themselves but inevitable, and therefore -to be faced as well as we may. I need not have gone in -and seen that seal, but I was deluded to do so by the ideal -picture.’</p> - -<p>‘Surely,’ exclaimed Barbara laughing, ‘you put marriage -in a false light?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Not a bit. In almost every case it is as is described, -a delusion and a horrible disenchantment. It shall not be -so with me, so I picture it in all its real features. If you -do not understand me the fault lies with you. Even the -blessed sun cannot illumine a room when the panes of the -window are dull. I am a poor man, and a poor man must -look at matters from what you are pleased to speak of as a -sordid point of view. There are plants I have seen suspended -in windows said to live on air. They are all -pendulous. Now I am not disposed to become a drooping -plant. Live on air I cannot. There is enough earth in -my pot for my own roots, but for my own alone.’</p> - -<p>‘I see,’ said Barbara, laughing, but a little irritated. -‘You are ready enough to marry, but have not the means -on which to marry.’</p> - -<p>‘Exactly,’ answered Mr. Coyshe. ‘I have a magnificent -future before me, but I am like a man swimming, who sees -the land but does not touch as much as would blacken his -nails. Lord bless you!’ said Mr. Coyshe, ‘I support a -wife on what I get at Beer Alston! Lord bless me!’ he -stood up and sat down again, ‘you might as well expect a -cock to lay eggs.’</p> - -<p>Barbara bit her lips. ‘I should not have thought you -so practical,’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘I am forced to be so. It is the fate of poor men to -have to count their coppers. Then there is another matter. -If I were married, well, of course, it is possible that I -might be the founder of a happy family. In the South -Sea Islands the natives send their parents periodically up -trees and then shake the trunks. If the old people hold -on they are reprieved, if they fall they are eaten. We eat -our parents in England also, and don’t wait till they are -old and leathery. We begin with them when we are -babes, and never leave off till nothing is left of them to -devour. We feed on their energies, consume their substance, -their time, their brains, their hearts piecemeal.’</p> - -<p>‘Well!’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Well,’ repeated Mr. Coyshe, ‘if I am to be eaten I -must have flesh on my bones for the coming Coyshes to -eat.’</p> - -<p>‘You need not be alarmed as to the prospect,’ said -Barbara gravely. ‘I have been left a few hundred pounds -by my aunt, they bring in about fifty pounds a year. I -will make it over to my sister.’</p> - -<p>‘You see for yourself,’ said Mr. Coyshe, ‘that Eve is -not a young lady who can be made into a sort of housekeeper. -She is too dainty for that. Turnips may be tossed -about, but not apricots.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘I and my sister are quite different.’</p> - -<p>‘You will not repent of this determination?’ asked -Mr. Coyshe. ‘I suppose it would not be asking you too -much just to drop me a letter with the expression of your -intention stated in it? I confess to a weakness for black -and white. The memory is so treacherous, and I find it -very like an adhesive chest plaster—it sticks only on that -side which applies to self.’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Coyshe,’ said Barbara, ‘shall we go in and see -papa? You shall be satisfied. My memory will not play -me false. My whole heart is wrapped up in dear Eve, and -the great ambition of my life is to see her happy. Come, -then, we will go to papa.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c271" id="c271">CHAPTER XLI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">ANOTHER MISTAKE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> saw Mr. Coyshe into her father’s room, and then -went upstairs to Eve, caught her by the arm, and drew -her into her own room. Barbara had now completely made -up her mind that her sister was to become Mrs. Coyshe. -Eve was a child, never would be other, never capable of -deciding reasonably for herself. Those who loved her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -those who had care of her must decide for her. Barbara -and her father had grievously erred hitherto in humouring -all Eve’s caprices, now they must be peremptory with -her, and arrange for her what was best, and force her to -accept the provision made for her.</p> - -<p>What are love matches but miserable disappointments? -Not quite so bad as pictured by Mr. Coyshe. The reality -would not differ from the ideal as thoroughly as the seal -from the painted mermaid; but there was truth in what -he said. A love match was entered into by two young -people who have idealised each other, and before the first -week is out of the honeymoon they find the ideal shattered, -and a very prosaic reality standing in its place. -Then follow disappointment, discontent, rebellion. Far -better the foreign system of parents choosing partners for -their children; they are best able to discover the real -qualities of the suitor because they study them dispassionately, -and they know the characters of their daughters. -Who can love a child more than a parent, and therefore -who is better qualified to match her suitably?</p> - -<p>So Barbara argued with herself. Certainly Eve must -not be left to select her husband. She was a creature of -impulse, without a grain of common-sense in her whole -nature.</p> - -<p>Barbara drew Eve down beside her on the sofa at the -foot of her bed, and put her arm round her waist. Eve -was pouting, and had red eyes; for her sister had scolded -her that morning sharply for her conduct the preceding -night, and her father had been excited, and for the first -time in his life had spoken angrily to her, and bidden her -cast off and never resume the costume in which she had -dressed and bedizened herself.</p> - -<p>Eve had retired to her room in a sulk, and in a rebellious -frame of mind. She cried and called herself an ill-treated -girl, and was overcome with immense pity for the -hardships she had to undergo among people who could not -understand and would not humour her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> - -<p>Eve’s lips were screwed up, and her brow as nearly -contracted into a frown as it could be, and her sweet -cheeks were kindled with fiery temper-spots.</p> - -<p>‘Eve dear,’ said Barbara, ‘Mr. Coyshe is come.’</p> - -<p>Eve made no answer, her lips took another screw, and -her brows contracted a little more.</p> - -<p>‘Eve, he is closeted now with papa, and I know he has -come to ask for the hand of the dearest little girl in the -whole world.’</p> - -<p>‘Stuff!’ said Eve peevishly.</p> - -<p>‘Not stuff at all,’ argued Barbara, ‘nor’—intercepting -another exclamation—’no, dear, nor fiddlesticks. He has -been talking to me in the parlour. He is sincerely attached -to you. He is an odd man, and views things in quite a -different way from others, but I think I made out that he -wanted you to be his wife.’</p> - -<p>‘Barbara,’ said Eve, with great emphasis, ‘nothing in -the world would induce me to submit to be called Mrs. -Squash.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear, if the name is the only objection, I think -he will not mind changing it. Indeed, it is only proper -that he should. As he and you will have Morwell, it is of -course right that a Jordan should be here, and—to please -the Duke and you—he will, I feel sure, gladly assume our -name. I agree with you that, though Coyshe is not a bad -name, it is not a pretty one. It lends itself to corruption.’</p> - -<p>‘Babb is worse,’ said Eve, still sulky.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, darling, Babb is ugly, and it is the pet name you -give me, as short for Barbara. I have often told you that -I do not like it.’</p> - -<p>‘You never said a word against it till Jasper came.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, dear, I may not have done so. When he did -settle here, and we knew his name, it was not, of course, -seemly to call me by it. That is to say,’ said Barbara, -colouring, ‘it led to confusion—in calling for me, for instance, -he might have thought you were addressing him.’</p> - -<p>‘Not at all,’ said Eve, still filled with a perverse spirit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -‘I never called him Babb at all, I always called him -Jasper.’ Then she took up her little apron and pulled at -the embroidered ends, and twisted and tortured them into -horns. ‘It would be queer, sister, if you were to marry -Jasper, you would become double Babb.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t,’ exclaimed Barbara, bridling; ‘this is unworthy -of you, Eve; you are trying to turn your arms -against me, when I am attacking you.’</p> - -<p>‘May I not defend myself?’</p> - -<p>Then Barbara drew her arm tighter round her sister, -kissed her pretty neck under the delicate shell-like ear, and -said, ‘Sweetest! we never fight. I never would raise a -hand against you. I would run a pair of scissors into my -own heart rather than snip a corner off this dear little ear. -There, no more fencing even with wadded foils. We were -talking of Mr. Coyshe.’</p> - -<p>Eve shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p>‘<i>Revenons à nos moutons</i>,’ she said, ‘though I cannot -say old Coyshe is a sheep; he strikes me rather as a -jackdaw.’</p> - -<p>‘Old Coyshe! how can you exaggerate so, Eve! He -is not more than five or six-and-twenty.’</p> - -<p>‘He is wise and learned enough to be regarded as old. -I hate wise and learned men.’</p> - -<p>‘What is there that you do not hate which is not light -and frivolous?’ asked Barbara a little pettishly. ‘You -have no serious interests in anything.’</p> - -<p>‘I have no interests in anything here,’ said Eve, ‘because -there is nothing here to interest me. I do not care -for turnips and mangold, and what are the pigs and poultry -to me? Can I be enthusiastic over draining? Can the -price of bark make my pulses dance? No, Barbie (Bab -you object to), I am sick of a country life in a poky corner -of the most out-of-the-way county in England except Cornwall. -Really, Barbie, I believe I would marry any man -who would take me to London, and let me go to the theatre -and to balls, and concerts and shows. Why, Barbara!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -I’d rather travel round the country in a caravan and dance -on a tight-rope than be moped up here in Morwell, an old -fusty, mouldering monk’s cell.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Eve!’</p> - -<p>Barbara was so shocked, she could say no more.</p> - -<p>I am in earnest. Papa is ill, and that makes the -place more dull than ever. Jasper was some fun, he -played the violin, and taught me music, but now you have -meddled, and deprived me of that amusement; I am sick -of the monotony here. It is only a shade better than Lanherne -convent, and you know papa took me away from -that; I fell ill with the restraint.’</p> - -<p>‘You have no restraint here.’</p> - -<p>‘No—but I have nothing to interest me. I feel always -as if I was hungry for something I could not get. Why -should I have “Don Giovanni,” and “Figaro,” and the -“Barber of Seville” on my music-stand, and strum at -them? I want to see them, and hear them alive, acting, -singing, particularly amid lights and scenery, and in proper -costume. I cannot bear this dull existence any longer. If -Doctor Squash will take me to a theatre or an opera I’ll -marry him, just for that alone—that is my last word.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was accustomed to hear Eve talk extravagantly, -and had not been accustomed to lay much weight on what -she said; but this was spoken so vehemently, and was so -prodigiously extravagant, that Barbara could only loosen -her hold of her sister, draw back to the far end of the sofa, -and stare at her dismayedly. In her present state of distress -about Eve she thought more seriously of Eve’s words -than they deserved. Eve was angry, discontented, and -said what came uppermost, so as to annoy her sister.</p> - -<p>‘Eve dear,’ said Barbara gravely, ‘I pray you not to -talk in this manner, as if you had said good-bye to all -right principle and sound sense. Mr. Coyshe is downstairs. -We must decide on an answer, and that a definite one.’</p> - -<p>‘<i>We!</i>’ repeated Eve; ‘I suppose it concerns me -only.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘What concerns you concerns me; you know that very -well, Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘I am not at liberty, I suppose, to choose for myself?’</p> - -<p>‘You are a dear good girl, who will elect what is most -pleasing to your father and sister, and promises greatest -happiness to yourself.’</p> - -<p>Eve sat pouting and playing with the ends of her apron. -Then she took one end which she had twisted into a horn, -and put it between her pearly teeth, whilst she looked furtively -and mischievously at her sister, who sat with her -hands on her lap, tapping the floor with her feet.</p> - -<p>‘Barbie!’ said Eve slily.</p> - -<p>‘Well, dear!’</p> - -<p>‘Do lend me your pocket-handkerchief. I have been -crying and made mine wet. Papa was so cross and you -scolded me so sharply.’</p> - -<p>Barbara, without looking at her sister, held out her -handkerchief to her. Eve took it, pulled it out by the -two ends, twirled it round, folded, knotted it, worked diligently -at it, got it into the compact shape she desired, laid -it in her arms, with the fingers under it, and then, without -Barbara seeing what she was about—’Hist!’ said Eve, -and away shot the white rabbit she had manufactured into -Barbara’s lap. Then she burst into a merry laugh. The -clouds had rolled away. The sun was shining.</p> - -<p>‘How can you! How can you be so childish!’ burst -from Barbara, as she started up, and let the white rabbit -fall at her feet. ‘Here we are,’ said Barbara, with some -anger, ‘here we are discussing your future, and deciding -your happiness or sorrow, and you—you are making white -rabbits! You really, Eve, are no better than a child. You -are not fit to choose for yourself. Come along with me. -We must go down. Papa and I will settle for you as is -best. You want a master who will bring you into order, -and, if possible, force you to think.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c277" id="c277">CHAPTER XLII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">ENGAGED.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">If</span> a comparison were made between the results of well and -ill considered ventures, which would prove the most uniformly -successful? Not certainly those undertakings which -have been most carefully weighed and prudently determined -on. Just as frequently the rash and precipitate -venture is crowned with success as that which has been -wisely considered; and just as often the latter proves a -failure, and falsifies every expectation. Nature, Fate, -whatever it be that rules our destinies, rules them crookedly, -and, with mischief, upsets all our calculations. We build -our card-houses, and she fillips a marble into them and -brings them down. Why do we invariably stop every hole -except that by which the sea rolls through our dyke? -Why do we always forget to lock the stable door till the -nag has been stolen?</p> - -<p>The old myth is false which tells of Prometheus as -bound and torn and devoured by the eagle; Pro-metheus -is free and unrent, it is Epi-metheus who is in chains, and -writhing, and looks back on the irrevocable past, and curses -itself and is corroded with remorse.</p> - -<p>What is the fate of Forethought but to be flouted by -capricious Destiny, to be ever proved a fool and blind, to be -shown that it were just as well had it never existed?</p> - -<p>Eve hung back as Barbara led her to her father’s door. -Mr. Coyshe was in there, and though she had said she -would take him she did not mean it. She certainly did -not want to have to make her decision then. Her face became -a little pale, some of the bright colour had gone from -it when her temper subsided and she had begun to play at -making rabbits. Now more left her cheeks, and she held -back as Barbara tried to draw her on. But Barbara was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -very determined, and though Eve was wayward, she would -not take the trouble to be obstinate. ‘I can but say no,’ -she said to herself, ‘if the creature does ask me.’ Then -she whispered into Barbara’s ear, ‘Bab, I won’t have a -scene before all the parish.’</p> - -<p>‘All the parish, dear!’ remonstrated the elder, ‘there -is no one there but papa and the doctor; and if the latter -means to speak he will ask to have a word with you in -private, and you can go into the drawing-room.’</p> - -<p>‘But I don’t want to see him.’</p> - -<p>Barbara threw open the door.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan was propped up in his bed on pillows. He -was much worse, and a feverish fire burned in his eyes and -cheeks. He saw Eve at once and called her to him.</p> - -<p>Then her ill-humour returned, she pouted and looked -away from Mr. Coyshe so as not to see him. He bowed -and smiled, and pushed forward extending his hand, but -she brushed past with her eyes fixed on her father. She -was angry with Barbara for having brought her down.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘I am very ill. The doctor -has warned me that I have been much hurt by what -has happened. It was your doing, Eve. You were -foolish last night. You forgot what was proper to your -station. Your want of consideration is the cause of my -being so much worse, and of that scoundrel’s escape.’</p> - -<p>‘O papa, I am very sorry I hurt you, but as for his getting -off—I am glad! He had stolen my money, so I have -a right to forgive him, and that I do freely.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ exclaimed her father, ‘you do not know what -you say. Come nearer to me, child.’</p> - -<p>‘If I am to be scolded, papa,’ said Eve, sullenly, ‘I’d -like not to have it done in public.’ She looked round the -room, everywhere but at Mr. Coyshe. Her sister watched -her anxiously.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said the old man, ‘I am very ill and am not -likely to be strong again. I cannot be always with you. I -am not any more capable to act as your protector, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -Barbara has the cares of the house, and lacks the authority -to govern and lead you.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t want any governing and leading, papa,’ said -Eve, studying the bed cover. ‘Papa,’ after a moment, -‘whilst you lie in bed, don’t you think all those little tufts -on the counterpane look like poplars? I often do, and -imagine gardens and walks and pleasure-grounds among -them.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said her father, ‘I am not going to be put off -what I have to say by such poor artifices as this. I am -going to send you back to Lanherne.’</p> - -<p>‘Lanherne!’ echoed Eve, springing back. ‘I can’t go -there, papa; indeed I can’t. It is dull enough here, but -it is ten thousand times duller there. I have just said so to -Barbara. I can’t go, I won’t go to Lanherne. I don’t see -why I should be forced. I’m not going to be a nun. My -education has been completed under Barbara. I know -where Cape Guardafui is, and the Straits of Malacca, and -the Coromandel Coast. I know Mangnall’s questions and -answers right through—that is, I know the questions and -some of the answers. I can read “Télémaque.” What -more is wanted of any girl? I don’t desire any more -learning. I hate Lanherne. I fell ill last time I was there. -Those nuns look like hobgoblins, and not like angels. I -shall run away. Besides, it was eternally semolina pudding -there, and, papa, I hate semolina. Always semolina -on fast days, and the puddings sometimes burnt. There -now, my education <i>is</i> incomplete. I do not know whence -semolina comes. Is it vegetable, papa? Mr. Coyshe, you -are scientific, tell us the whole history of the production of -this detestable article of commerce.’</p> - -<p>‘Semolina——’ began Mr. Coyshe.</p> - -<p>‘Never mind about semolina,’ interrupted Barbara, -who saw through her sister’s tricks. ‘We will turn up -the word in the encyclopædia afterwards. We are considering -Lanherne now.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t mind the large-grained semolina so much,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -said Eve, with a face of childlike simplicity; ‘that is -almost as good as tapioca.’</p> - -<p>Her father caught her wrist and drew her hand upon -the bed. He clutched it so tightly that she exclaimed that -he hurt her.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ he said, ‘it is necessary for you to go.’</p> - -<p>Her face became dull and stubborn again.</p> - -<p>‘Is Mr. Coyshe here to examine my chest, and see if I -am strong enough to endure confinement? Because I was -the means, according to you, papa, of poor—of the -prisoner escaping last night, therefore I am to be sent to -prison myself to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>‘I am not sending you to prison,’ said her father, -‘I am placing you under wise and pious guardians. You -are not to be trusted alone any more. Barbara has -been——’</p> - -<p>‘There! there!’ exclaimed Eve, flashing an angry -glance at her sister, and bursting into tears; ‘was there -ever a poor girl so badly treated? I am scolded, and -threatened with jail. My sister, who should love me and -take my part, is my chief tormentor, and instigates you, -papa, against me. She is rightly called Barbara—she is a -savage. I know so much Latin as to understand that.’</p> - -<p>Barbara touched Mr. Coyshe, and signed to him to -leave the room with her.</p> - -<p>Eve watched them out of the room with satisfaction. -She could manage her father, she thought, if left alone with -him. But her father was thoroughly alarmed. He had -been told that she had met Martin on the rock. Barbara -had told him this to exculpate Jasper. Her conduct on the -preceding night had, moreover, filled him with uneasiness.</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ said Eve, looking at her little foot and shoe, -‘don’t you think Mr. Coyshe’s ears stick out very much? -I suppose his mother was not particular with him to put -them under the rim of his cap.’</p> - -<p>‘I have not noticed.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘And, papa, what eager, staring eyes he has got! I -think he straps his cravat too tight.’</p> - -<p>‘Possibly.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you know, dear papa, there is a little hole just -over the mantelshelf in my room, and the other day I saw -something hanging down from it. I thought it was a bit -of string, and I went up to it and pulled it. Then there -came a little squeak, and I screamed. What do you suppose -I had laid hold of? It was a mouse’s tail. Was that -not an odd thing, papa, for the wee mouse to sit in its run -and let its tail hang down outside?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, very odd.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa, how did all those beautiful things come into the -house which I found in the chest upstairs? And why -were you so cross with me for putting them on?’</p> - -<p>The old man’s face changed at once, the wild look came -back into his eye, and his hand which clasped her wrist -clutched it so convulsively, that she felt his nails cut her -tender skin.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ he said, and his voice quivered, ‘never touch -them again. Never speak of them again. My God!’ he -put his hand to his brow and wiped the drops which suddenly -started over it, ‘my God! I fear, I fear for her.’</p> - -<p>Then he turned his agitated face eagerly to her, and -said—</p> - -<p>‘Eve! you must take him. I wish it. I shall have -no peace till I know you are in his hands. He is so wise -and so assured. I cannot die and leave you alone. I wake -up in the night bathed in a sweat of fear, thinking of you, -fearing for you. I imagine all sorts of things. Do you -not wish to go to Lanherne? Then take Mr. Coyshe. He -will make you a good husband. I shall be at ease when -you are provided for. I cannot die—and I believe I am -nearer death than you or Barbara, or even the doctor, supposes—I -cannot die, and leave you here alone, unprotected. -O Eve! if you love me do as I ask. You must either go to -Lanherne or take Mr. Coyshe. It must be one or the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -other. What is that?’ he asked suddenly, drawing back -in the bed, and staring wildly at her, and pointing at her -forehead with a white quivering finger. ‘What is there? -A stain—a spot. One of my black spots, very big. No, it -is red. It is blood! It came there when I was wounded -by the scythe, and every now and then it breaks out again. -I see it now.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa!’ said Eve, shuddering, ‘don’t point at me in -that way, and look so strange; you frighten me. There -is nothing there. Barbie washed it off long ago.’</p> - -<p>Then he wavered in his bed, passing one hand over the -other, as washing—’It cannot wash off,’ he said, despairingly. -‘It eats its way in, farther, farther, till it reaches -the very core of the heart, and then——’ he cast himself -back and moaned.</p> - -<p>‘It was very odd of the mouse,’ said Eve, ‘to sit with -her little back to the room, looking into the dark, and her -tail hanging out into the chamber.’ She thought to divert -her father’s thoughts from his fancies.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ he said in a hoarse voice, and turned sharply -round on her, ‘let me see your mother’s ring again. To-day -you shall put it on. Hitherto you have worn it hung -round your neck. To-day you shall bear it on your finger, -in token that you are engaged.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa, dear! I don’t——’</p> - -<p>‘Which is it to be, Lanherne or Mr. Coyshe?’</p> - -<p>‘I won’t indeed go to Lanherne.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well; then you will take Mr. Coyshe. He will -make you happy. He will not always live here; he talks -of a practice in London. He tells me that he has found -favour with the Duke. If he goes to London——’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! Is he really going to London?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, child!’</p> - -<p>‘Where all the theatres are! Oh, papa! I should -like to live in a town, I do not like being mewed up in the -country. Will he have a carriage?’</p> - -<p>‘I suppose so.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! and a tiger in buttons and a gold band?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know.’</p> - -<p>‘I am sure he will, papa! I’d rather have that than -go to Lanherne.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan knocked with his stick against the wall. -Eve was frightened.</p> - -<p>‘Papa, don’t be too hasty. I only meant that I hate -Lanherne!’</p> - -<p>In fact, she was alarmed by his mention of the ring, -and following her usual simple tactics had diverted the -current of his thoughts into another direction.</p> - -<p>Barbara and Mr. Coyshe came in.</p> - -<p>‘She consents,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘Eve, give him your -hand. Where is the ring?’</p> - -<p>She drew back.</p> - -<p>‘I want the ring,’ he said again, impatiently.</p> - -<p>‘Papa, I have not got it—that is—I have mislaid it.’</p> - -<p>‘What!’ he exclaimed, trying to sit up, and becoming -excited. ‘The ring—not lost! Mislaid! It must be -found. I will have it. Your mother’s ring! I will never, -never forgive if that is lost. Produce it at once.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot, papa. I don’t know—— O—Mr. Coyshe, -quick, give me your hand. There! I consent. Do not be -excited, dear papa. I’ll find the ring to-morrow.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c283" id="c283">CHAPTER XLIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">IN A MINE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Eve</span> had no sooner consented to take Mr. Coyshe, just to -save herself the inconvenience of being questioned about -the lost ring, than she ran out of the room, and to escape -further importunity ran over the fields towards the wood. -She had scarcely gone three steps from the house before -she regretted what she had done. She did not care for Mr. -Coyshe. She laughed at his peculiarities. She did not believe,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -like her father and sister, in his cleverness. But she -saw that his ears and eyes were unduly prominent, and she -was alive to the ridiculous. Mr. Coyshe was more to her -fancy than most of the young men of the neighbourhood, -who talked of nothing but sport, and who would grow with -advancing age to talk of sport and rates, and beyond rates -would not grow. Eve was not fond of hunting. Barbara -rarely went after the hounds, Eve never. She did not love -horse exercise; she preferred sauntering in the woods and -lanes, gathering autumn-tinted blackberry leaves, to a run -over the downs after a fox. Perhaps hunting required too -much exertion for her: Eve did not care for exertion. She -made dolls’ clothes still, at the age of seventeen; she -played on the piano and sang; she collected leaves and -flowers for posies. That was all Eve cared to do. Whatever -she did she did it listlessly, because nothing thoroughly -interested her. Yet she felt that there might be things -which were not to be encountered at Morwell that would -stir her heart and make her pulses bound. In a word, she -had an artistic nature, and the world in which she moved -was a narrow and inartistic world. Her proper faculties -were unevoked. Her true nature slept.</p> - -<p>The hoot of an owl, followed by a queer little face peeping -at her from behind a pine. She did not at once recognise -Watt, as her mind was occupied with her engagement -to Mr. Coyshe.</p> - -<p>Now at the very moment Watt showed himself her -freakish mind had swerved from a position of disgust at -her engagement, into one of semi-content with it. Mr. -Coyshe was going to London, and there she would be free -to enjoy herself after her own fashion, in seeing plays, -hearing operas, going to all the sights of the great town, -in a life of restless pleasure-seeking, and that was exactly -what Eve desired.</p> - -<p>Watt looked woe-begone. He crept from behind the -tree. His impudence and merriment had deserted him. -Tears came into his eyes as he spoke.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Are they all gone?’ he asked, looking cautiously -about.</p> - -<p>‘Whom do you mean?’</p> - -<p>‘The police.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, they have left Morwell. I do not know whither. -Whether they are searching for your brother or have given -up the search I cannot say. What keeps you here?’</p> - -<p>‘O Miss Eve! poor Martin is not far off. It would not -do for him to run far. He is in hiding at no great distance, -and—he has nothing to eat.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is he? What can I do?’ asked Eve, frightened.</p> - -<p>‘He is in an old mine. He will not be discovered -there. Even if the constables found the entrance, which -is improbable, they would not take him, for he would -retreat into one of the side passages and escape by an airhole -in another part of the wood.’</p> - -<p>‘I will try what I can do. I dare say I might smuggle -some food away from the house and put it behind the -hedge, whence you could fetch it.’</p> - -<p>‘That is not enough. He must get away.’</p> - -<p>‘There is Jasper’s horse still with us. I will ask -Jasper, and you can have that.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ answered the boy, ‘that will not do. We must -not take the road this time. We must try the water.’</p> - -<p>‘We have a boat,’ said Eve, ‘but papa would never -allow it to be used.’</p> - -<p>‘Your papa will know nothing about it, nor the prudent -Barbara, nor the solemn Jasper. You can get the -key and let us have the boat.’</p> - -<p>‘I will do what I can, but’—as a sudden thought -struck her—’Martin must let me have my ring again. I -want it so much. My father has been asking for it.’</p> - -<p>‘How selfish you are!’ exclaimed the boy reproachfully. -‘Thinking of your own little troubles when a vast -danger menaces our dear Martin. Come with me. You -must see Martin and ask him yourself for that ring. I dare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -not speak of it; he values that ring above everything. You -must plead for it yourself with that pretty mouth and -those speaking eyes.’</p> - -<p>‘I must not; indeed I must not!’</p> - -<p>‘Why not? You will not be missed. No one will -harm you. You should see the poor fellow, to what he is -reduced by love for you. Yes, come and see him. He -would never have been here, he would have been far away -in safety, but he had the desire to see you again.’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, I cannot accompany you.’</p> - -<p>‘Then you must do without the ring.’</p> - -<p>‘I want my ring again vastly. My father is cross -because I have not got it, and I have promised to show it -him. How can I keep my promise unless it be restored to -me?’</p> - -<p>‘Come, come!’ said the boy impatiently. ‘Whilst you -are talking you might have got half-way to his den.’</p> - -<p>‘I will only just speak to him,’ said Eve, ‘two words, -and then run home.’</p> - -<p>‘To be sure. That will be ample—two words,’ sneered -the boy, and led the way.</p> - -<p>The old mine adit was below the rocks near the river, -and at no great distance from the old landing-place, where -Jasper had recently constructed a boathouse. The ground -about the entrance was thickly strewn with dead leaves, -mixed with greenish shale thrown out of the copper mine, -and so poisonous that no grass had been able to grow over -it, though the mine had probably not been worked for a -century or even more. But the mouth of the adit was -now completely overgrown with brambles and fringed with -ferns. The dogwood, now in flower, had thickly clambered -near the entrance wherever the earth was not -impregnated with copper and arsenic.</p> - -<p>Eve shrank from the black entrance and hung back, -but the boy caught her by the arm and insisted on her -coming with him. She surmounted some broken masses -of rock that had fallen before the entrance, and brushed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -aside the dogwood and briars. The air struck chill and -damp against her brow as she passed out of the sun under -the stony arch.</p> - -<p>The rock was lichened. White-green fungoid growths -hung down in streamers; the floor was dry, though water -dripped from the sides and nourished beds of velvet moss -as far in as the light penetrated. So much rubble covered -the bottom of the adit, that the water filtered through it -and passed by a subterranean channel to the river.</p> - -<p>After taking a few steps forward, Eve saw Martin half -sitting, half lying on a bed of fern and heather; the grey -light from the entrance fell on his face. It was pale and -drawn; but he brightened up when he saw Eve, and he -started to his knee to salute her.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot stand upright in this cursed hole,’ he said, -‘but at this moment it matters not. On my knee I do -homage to my queen.’ He seized her hand and pressed -his lips to it.</p> - -<p>‘Here you see me,’ he said, ‘doomed to shiver in this -pit, catching my death of rheumatism.’</p> - -<p>‘You will surely soon get away,’ said Eve. ‘I am -very sorry for you. I must go home, I may not stay.’</p> - -<p>‘What! leave me now that you have appeared as a -sunbeam, shining into this abyss to glorify it! Oh, no—stay -a few minutes, and then I shall remain and dream of -the time you were here. Look at my companions.’ He -pointed to the roof, where curious lumps like compacted -cobwebs hung down. ‘These are bats, asleep during the -day. When night falls they will begin to stir and shake -their wings, and scream, and fly out. Shall I have to -sleep in this den, with the hideous creatures crying and -flapping about my head?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, that will be dreadful! But surely you will leave -this when night comes on?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, if you will help me to get away.’</p> - -<p>‘I will furnish you with the key to the boathouse. I -will hide it somewhere, and then your brother can find it.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘That will not satisfy me. You must bring the key -here.’</p> - -<p>‘Why? I cannot do that.’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed you must; I cannot live without another -glimpse of your sweet face. Peter was released by an -angel. It shall be the same with Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘I will bring you the key,’ said Eve nervously, ‘if you -will give me back my ring.’</p> - -<p>‘Your ring!’ exclaimed Martin; ‘never! Go—call -the myrmidons of justice and deliver me into their -hands.’</p> - -<p>‘I would not do that for the world,’ said Eve with -tears in her eyes; ‘I will do everything that I can to help -you. Indeed, last night, I got into dreadful trouble by dressing -up and playing my tambourine and dancing to attract -the attention of the men, whilst you were escaping from -the corn-chamber. Papa was very angry and excited, and -Barbara was simply—dreadful. I have been scolded and -made most unhappy. Do, in pity, give me up the ring. -My papa has asked for it. You have already got me into -another trouble, because I had not the ring. I was obliged -to promise to marry Doctor Coyshe just to pacify papa, he -was so excited about the ring.’</p> - -<p>‘What! engaged yourself to another?’</p> - -<p>‘I was forced into it, to-day, I tell you—because I had -not got the ring. Give it me. I want to get out of my -engagement, and I cannot without that.’</p> - -<p>‘And I—it is not enough that I should be hunted as -a hare—my heart must be broken! Walter! where are -you? Come here and listen to me. Never trust a woman. -Curse the whole sex for its falseness and its selfishness. -There is no constancy in this world.’ And he sighed and -looked reproachfully at Eve. ‘After all I have endured -and suffered—for you.’</p> - -<p>Eve’s tears flowed. Martin’s attitude, tone of voice, -were pathetic and moved her. ‘I am very sorry,’ she -said, ‘but—I never gave you the ring. You snatched it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -from me. You are unknown to me, I am nothing to you, -and you are—you are——’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, speak out the bitter truth. I am a thief, a runaway -convict, a murderer. Use every offensive epithet -that occurs in your vocabulary. Give a dog a bad name -and hang him. I ought to have known the sex better -than to have trusted you. But I loved, I was blinded by -passion. I saw an angel face, and blue eyes that promised -a heaven of tenderness and truth. I saw, I loved, -I trusted—and here I am, a poor castaway ship, lying -ready to be broken up and plundered by wreckers. O the -cruel, faithless sex! We men, with our royal trust, our -splendid self-sacrifice, become a ready prey; and when we -are down, the laughing heartless tyrants dance over us. -When the lion was sick the ass came and kicked him. It -was the last indignity the royal beast could endure, he -laid his head between his paws and his heart brake. Leave -me—leave me to die.’</p> - -<p>‘O Martin!’ said Eve, quite overcome by his greatness, -and the vastness of his devotion, ‘I have never hurt -you, never offended you. You are like my papa, and have -fancies.’</p> - -<p>‘I have fancies. Yes, you are right, terribly right. I -have had my fancies. I have lived in a delusion. I believed -in the honesty of those eyes. I trusted your word——’</p> - -<p>‘I never gave you a word.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not interrupt me. I <i>did</i> suppose that your heart -had surrendered to me. The delusion is over. The heart -belongs to a vulgar village apothecary. That heart which -I so treasured——’ his voice shook and broke, and Eve -sobbed. ‘Who brought the police upon me?’ he went on. -‘It was you, whom I loved and trusted, you who possess -an innocent face and a heart full of guile. And here I lie, -your victim, in a living grave your cruel hands have -scooped out for me in the rock.’</p> - -<p>‘O—indeed, this mine was dug hundreds of years ago.’</p> - -<p>He turned a reproachful look at her. ‘Why do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -interrupt me? I speak metaphorically. You brought me -to this, and if you have a spark of good feeling in your -breast you will get me away from here.’</p> - -<p>‘I will bring you the key as soon as the sun sets.’</p> - -<p>‘That is right. I accept the token of penitence with -gladness, and hope for day in the heart where the light -dawns.’</p> - -<p>‘I must go—I really must go,’ she said.</p> - -<p>He bowed grandly to her, with his hand on his heart.</p> - -<p>‘Come,’ said Watt. ‘I will help you over these rubbish -heaps. You have had your two words.’</p> - -<p>‘O stay!’ exclaimed Eve, ‘my ring! I came for that -and I have not got it. I must indeed, indeed have it.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said Martin, ‘I have been disappointed, and -have spoken sharply of the sex. But I am not the man -to harbour mistrust. Deceived I have been, and perhaps -am now laying myself open to fresh disappointment. I -cannot say. I cannot go against my nature, which is -frank and trustful. There—take your ring. Come back -to me this evening with it and the key, and prove to -me that all women are not false, that all confidence placed -in them is not misplaced.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c290" id="c290">CHAPTER XLIV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">TUCKERS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Barbara</span> sat in the little oak parlour, a pretty room that -opened out of the hall; indeed it had originally been a -portion of the hall, which was constructed like a letter -L. The hall extended to the roof, but the branch at right -angles was not half the height. It was ceiled about ten -feet from the floor, and instead of being, like the hall, -paved with slate, had oak boards. The window looked -into the garden. Mr. Jordan’s father had knocked away -the granite mullions, and put in a sash-window, out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -keeping with the room and house, but agreeable to the -taste of the period, and admitting more light. A panelled -division cut the room off from the hall. Barbara and Eve -could not agree about the adornment of this apartment. -On the walls were a couple of oil paintings, and Barbara -supplemented them with framed and glazed mezzotints. -She could not be made by her sister to see the incongruity -of engravings and oil paintings hanging side by -side on dark oak panels. On the chimney-piece was a -French ormolu clock, which was Eve’s detestation. It -was badly designed and unsuitable for the room. So was -the banner-screen of a poodle resting on a red cushion; -so were the bugle mats on the table; so were the antimacassars -on all the arm-chairs and over the back of the -sofa; so were some drawing-room chairs purchased by -Barbara, with curved legs, and rails that were falling out -periodically. Barbara thought these chairs handsome, -Eve detestable. The chimney-piece ornaments, the vases -of pale green glass illuminated with flowers, were also -objects of aversion to one sister and admiration to the -other. Eve at one time refused to make posies for the -vases in the parlour, and was always protesting against -some new introduction by her sister, which violated the -principles of taste.</p> - -<p>‘I don’t like to live in a dingy old hall like this,’ Eve -would say; ‘but I like a place to be fitted up in keeping -with its character.’</p> - -<p>Barbara was now seated in this debatable ground. Eve -was out somewhere, and she was alone and engaged with -her needle. Her father, in the next room, was dozing. -Then to the open window came Jasper, leaned his arms -on the sill—the sash was up—and looked in at Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Hard at work as usual?’ he said.</p> - -<p>She smiled and nodded, and looked at him, holding -her needle up, with a long white thread in it.</p> - -<p>‘On what engaged I dare not ask,’ said Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘You may know,’ she said, laughing. ‘Sewing in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -tuckers. I always sew tuckers on Saturdays, both for -myself and for Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘And, pray, what are tuckers?’</p> - -<p>‘Tuckers’—she hesitated to find a suitable description, -‘tuckers are—well, tuckers.’ She took a neck of a dress -which she had finished and put it round her throat. ‘Now -you see. Now you understand. Tuckers are the garnishing, -like parsley to a dish.’</p> - -<p>‘And compliments to speech. So you do Eve’s as well -as your own.’</p> - -<p>‘O dear, yes; Eve cannot be trusted. She would forget -all about them and wear dirty tuckers.’</p> - -<p>‘But she worked hard enough burnishing the brass -necklace.’</p> - -<p>‘O yes, that shone! tuckers are simply—clean.’</p> - -<p>‘My Lady Eve should have a lady’s-maid.’</p> - -<p>‘Not whilst I am with her. I do all that is needful -for her. When she marries she must have one, as she is -helpless.’</p> - -<p>‘You think Eve will marry?’</p> - -<p>‘O yes! It is all settled. She has consented.’</p> - -<p>He was a little surprised. This had come about very -suddenly, and Eve was young.</p> - -<p>‘I am glad you are here,’ said Barbara, ‘only you have -taken an unfair advantage of me.’</p> - -<p>‘I—Barbara?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Jasper, you.’ She looked up into his face with -a heightened colour. He had never called her by her -plain Christian name before, nor had she thus addressed -him, but their hearts understood each other, and a formal -title would have been an affectation on either side.</p> - -<p>‘I will tell you why,’ said the girl; ‘so do not put on -such a puzzled expression. I want to speak to you -seriously about a matter that—that—well, Jasper, that -makes me wish you had your face in the light and mine in -the shade. Where you stand the glare of the sky is behind -you, and you can see every change in my face, and that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -unnerves me. Either you shall come in here, take my -place at the tuckers, and let me talk to you through the -window, or else I shall move my chair close to the window, -and sit with my back to it, and we can talk without watching -each other’s face.’</p> - -<p>‘Do that, Barbara. I cannot venture on the tuckers.’</p> - -<p>So, laughing nervously, and with her colour changing -in her checks, and her lips twitching, she drew her chair -close to the window, and seated herself, not exactly with -her back to it, but sideways, and turned her face from it.</p> - -<p>The ground outside was higher than the floor of the -parlour, so that Jasper stood above her, and looked down -somewhat, not much, on her head, her dark hair so neat -and glossy, and smoothly parted. He stooped to the -mignonette bed and gathered some of the fragrant delicate -little trusses of colourless flowers, and with a slight apology -thrust two or three among her dark hair.</p> - -<p>‘Putting in tuckers,’ he said. ‘Garnishing the sweetest -of heads with the plant that to my mind best symbolises -Barbara.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t,’ she exclaimed, shaking her head, but not -shaking the sprigs out of her hair. ‘You are taking unwarrantable -liberties, Mr. Jasper.’</p> - -<p>‘I will take no more.’ He folded his arms on the sill. -She did not see, but she felt, the flood of love that poured -over her bowed head from his eyes. She worked very hard -fastening off a thread at the end of a tucker.</p> - -<p>‘I also,’ said Jasper, ‘have been desirous of a word -with you, Barbara.’</p> - -<p>She turned, looked up in his face, then bent her head -again over her work. The flies, among them a great bluebottle, -were humming in the window; the latter bounced -against the glass, and was too stupid to come down and go -out at the open sash.</p> - -<p>‘We understand each other,’ said Jasper, in a low voice, -as pleasant and soft as the murmur of the flies. ‘There -are songs without words, and there is speech without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -voice: what I have thought and felt you know, though I -have not told you anything, and I think I know also what -you think and feel. Now, however, it is as well that we -should come to plain words.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Jasper, I think so as well, that is why I have -come over here with my tuckers.’</p> - -<p>‘We know each other’s heart,’ he said, stooping in over -her head and the garnishing of mignonette, and speaking -as low as a whisper, not really in a whisper but in his -natural warm, rich voice. ‘There is this, dear Barbara, -about me. My name, my family, are dishonoured by the -thoughtless, wrongful act of my poor brother. I dare not -ask you to share that name with me, not only on this -ground, but also because I am absolutely penniless. A -great wrong has been done to your father and sister by us, -and it does not become me to ask the greatest and richest -of gifts from your family. Hereafter I may inherit my -father’s mill at Buckfastleigh. When I do I will, as I -have undertaken, fully repay the debt to your sister, but -till I can do that I may not ask for more. You are, and -must be, to me a far-off, unapproachable star, to whom -I look up, whom I shall ever love and stretch my hands -towards.’</p> - -<p>‘I am not a star at all,’ said Barbara, ‘and as for being -far off and unapproachable, you are talking nonsense, and -you do not mean it or you would not have stuck bits of -mignonette in my hair. I do not understand rhodomontade.’</p> - -<p>Jasper laughed. He liked her downright, plain way. -‘I am quoting a thought from “Preciosa,”’ he said.</p> - -<p>‘I know nothing of “Preciosa,” save that it is something -Eve strums.’</p> - -<p>‘Well—divest what I have said of all exaggeration of -simile, you understand what I mean.’</p> - -<p>‘And I want you to understand my position exactly, -Jasper,’ she said. ‘I also am penniless. The money my -aunt left me I have made over to Eve because she could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -not marry Mr. Coyshe without something present, as well -as a prospect of something to come.’</p> - -<p>‘What! sewn your poor little legacy in as a tucker to -her wedding gown?’</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Coyshe wants to go to London, he is lost here; -and Eve would be happy in a great city, she mopes in the -country. So I have consented to this arrangement. I do -not want the money as I live here with my father, and it -is a real necessity for Eve and Mr. Coyshe. You see—I -could not do other.’</p> - -<p>‘And when your father dies, Morwell also passes to -Eve. What is left for you?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, I shall do very well. Mr. Coyshe and Eve would -never endure to live here. By the time dear papa is called -away Mr. Coyshe will have made himself a name, be a -physician, and rolling in money. Perhaps he and Eve -may like to run here for their short holiday and breathe -our pure air, but otherwise they will not occupy the place, -and I thought I might live on here and manage for them. -Then’—she turned her cheek and Jasper saw a glitter on -the long dark lash, but at the same time the dimple of a -smile on her cheek—’then, dear friend’—she put up her -hand on the sill, and he caught it—’then, dear friend, -perhaps you will not mind helping me. Then probably your -little trouble will be over.’ She was silent, thinking, and -he saw the dimple go out of her smooth cheek, and the -sparkling drop fall from the lash on that cheek. ‘All is -in God’s hand,’ she said. ‘We do wrong to look forward; -I shall be happy to leave it so, and wait and trust.’</p> - -<p>Then he put the other hand which did not clasp hers -under her chin, and tried to raise her face, but he could -only reach her brow with his lips and kiss it. He said not -one word.</p> - -<p>‘You do not answer,’ she said.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot,’ he replied.</p> - -<p>Then the door was thrown open and Eve entered, -flushed, and holding up her finger.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Look, Bab!—look, dear! I have my ring again. Now -I can shake off that doctor.’</p> - -<p>‘O Eve!’ gasped Barbara; ‘the ring! where did you -get it?’ She turned sharply to Jasper. ‘She has seen -him—your brother Martin—again.’</p> - -<p>Eve was, for a moment, confused, but only for a moment. -She recovered herself and said merrily, ‘Why, -Barbie dear, however did you get that crown of mignonette -in your hair? You never stuck it there yourself. You -would not dream of such a thing; besides, your arm is not -long enough to reach the flower-bed. Jasper! confess you -have been doing this.’ She clasped her hands and danced. -‘O what fun!’ she exclaimed: ‘but really it is a shame -of me interfering when Barbara is so busy with the -tuckers, and Jasper in garnishing Barbara’s head.’ Then -she bounded out of the room, leaving her sister in confusion.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c296" id="c296">CHAPTER XLV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">DUCK AND GREEN PEAS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Eve</span> might evade an explanation by turning the defence -into an attack when first surprised, but she was unable to -resist a determined onslaught, and when Barbara followed -her and parried all her feints, and brought her to close -quarters, Eve was driven to admit that she had seen -Martin, who was in concealment in the wood, and that she -had undertaken to furnish him with food and the boathouse -key. Jasper was taken into consultation, and -promised to seek his brother and provide for him what was -necessary, but neither he nor Barbara could induce her to -remain at home and not revisit the fugitive.</p> - -<p>‘I know that Jasper will not find the place without -me,’ she said. ‘Watt only discovered it by his prowling -about as a weasel. I must go with Mr. Jasper, but I -promise you, Barbie, it shall be for the last time.’ There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -was reason in her argument, and Barbara was forced to -acquiesce.</p> - -<p>Accordingly in the evening, not before, the two set out -for the mine, Eve carrying some provisions in a basket. -Jasper was much annoyed that his brother was still in the -neighbourhood, and still causing trouble to the sisters at -Morwell.</p> - -<p>Eve had shown her father the ring. The old man was -satisfied; he took it, looked hard at it, slipped it on his -little finger, and would not surrender it again. Eve must -explain this to Martin if he redemanded the ring, which -he was like enough to do.</p> - -<p>Neither she nor Jasper spoke much to each other on -the way; he had his thoughts occupied, and she was not -easy in her mind. As they approached the part of the -wood where the mine shaft was, she began to sing the song -in ‘Don Giovanni,’ <i>Là ci darem</i>, as a signal to Watt that -friends drew nigh through the bushes. On entering the -adit they found Martin in an ill humour. He had been -without food for many hours, and was moreover suffering -from an attack of rheumatism.</p> - -<p>‘I said as much this morning, Eve,’ he growled. ‘I -knew this hateful hole would make me ill, and here I am -in agonies. Oh, it is of no use your bringing me the -key of the boat; <i>I</i> can’t go on the water with knives -running into my back, and, what is more, I can’t stick in -this hateful burrow. How many hours on the water -down to Plymouth? I can’t even think of it; I should -have rheumatic fever. I’d rather be back in jail—there -I suppose they would give me hot-bottles and blankets. -And this, too, when I had prepared such a treat for Eve. -Curse it! I’m always thinking of others, and getting into -pickles myself accordingly.’</p> - -<p>‘Why, pray, what were you scheming to do for Miss -Eve?’ asked Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘O, the company I was with for a bit is at Plymouth, -and are performing Weber’s new piece, “Preciosa,” and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -thought I’d like to show it to her—and then the manager, -Justice Barret, knows about her mother. When I told -him of my escape, and leaving you at Morwell, he said -that he had left one of his company there named Eve. I -thought it would be a pleasure to the young lady to meet -him, and hear what he had to tell of her mother.’</p> - -<p>‘And you intended to carry Eve off with you?’</p> - -<p>‘I intended to persuade her to accompany me. Perhaps -she will do so still, when I am better.’</p> - -<p>Jasper was angry, and spoke sharply to his brother. -Martin turned on his bed of fern and heather, and groaning, -put his hands over his ears.</p> - -<p>‘Come,’ said he. ‘Watt, give me food. I can’t stand -scolding on an empty stomach, and with aches in my -bones.’</p> - -<p>He was impervious to argument; remonstrance he -resented. Jasper took the basket from Eve, and gave him -what he required. He groaned and cried out as Watt -raised him in his arms. Martin looked at Eve, appealing -for sympathy. He was a martyr, a guiltless sufferer, and -not spared even by his brother.</p> - -<p>‘I think, Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘that if you were well -wrapped in blankets you might still go in the boat.’</p> - -<p>‘You seem vastly eager to be rid of me,’ answered -Martin peevishly, ‘but, I tell you, I will not go. I’m not -going to jeopardise my life on the river in the fogs and -heavy dews to relieve you from anxiety. How utterly and -unreasonably selfish you are! If there be one vice which -is despicable, it is selfishness. I repeat, I won’t go, and I -won’t stay in this hole. You must find some safe and -warm place in which to stow me. I throw all responsibilities -on you. I wish I had never escaped from jail—I -have been sinking ever since I left it. There I had a dry -cell and food. From that I went to the corn-chamber at -Morwell, which was dry—but, faugh! how it stank of -onions! Now I have this damp dungeon that smells of -mould. Watt and you got me out of prison, and got me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -away from the warders and constables, so you must provide -for me now. I have nothing more to do with it. If -you take a responsibility on you, my doctrine is, go through -with it; don’t take it up and drop it half finished. What -news of that fellow I shot? Is he dead?’</p> - -<p>‘No—wounded, but not dangerously.’</p> - -<p>‘There, then, why should I fear? I was comfortable -in jail. I had my meals regularly there, and was not -subjected to damp. I trust my country would have cared -for me better than my brothers, who give me at one time -onions for a pillow, and at another heather for a bed.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Martin,’ said Jasper, ‘I think if you try you -can walk up the road; there is a woodman’s hut among -the trees near the Raven Rock, but concealed in the -coppice. It is warm and dry, and no one will visit it -whilst the leaves are on the trees. The workmen keep -their tools there, and their dinners, when shredding in -winter or rending in spring. You will be as safe there as -here, and so much nearer Morwell that we shall be able -easily to furnish you with necessaries till you are better, -and can escape to Plymouth.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m not sure that it is wise for me to try to get to -Plymouth. The police will be on the look-out for me -there, and they will not dream that I have stuck here—this -is the last place where they would suppose I stayed. -Besides, I have no money. No; I will wait till the company -move away from the county, and I will rejoin it at Bridgewater, -or Taunton, or Dorchester. Justice Barret is a -worthy fellow; a travelling company can’t always command -such abilities as mine, so the accommodation is -mutual.’</p> - -<p>Martin was assisted out of the mine. He groaned, -cried out, and made many signs of distress; he really was -suffering, but he made the most of his suffering. Jasper -stood on one side of him. He would not hear of Walter -sustaining him on the other side; he must have Eve as -his support, and he could only support himself on her by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -putting his arm over her shoulders. No objections raised -by Jasper were of avail. Watt was not tall enough. -Watt’s steps were irregular. Watt was required to go on -ahead and see that no one was in the way. Martin was -certainly a very handsome man. He wore a broad-brimmed -hat, and fair long hair; his eyes were dark and -large, his features regular, his complexion pale and interesting. -Seeing that Jasper looked at his hair with -surprise, he laughed, and leaning his head towards him -whispered, ‘Those rascals at Prince’s Town cropped me -like a Puritan. I wear a theatrical wig before the sex, till -my hair grows again.’</p> - -<p>Then leaning heavily on Eve, he bent his head to her -ear, and made a complimentary remark which brought the -colour into her cheek.</p> - -<p>‘Jasper,’ said he, turning his head again to his -brother, ‘mind this, I cannot put up with cyder; I am -racked with rheumatism, and I must have generous drink. -I suppose your father’s cellar is well stocked?’ He addressed -Eve. ‘You will see that the poor invalid is not -starved, and has not his vitals wrung with vinegar. I -have seen ducks about Morwell; what do you say to duck -with onion stuffing for dinner to-morrow—and tawny port, -eh? I’ll let you both into another confidence. I am not -going to lie on bracken. By hook or by crook you must -contrive to bring me out a feather bed. If I’ve not one, -and a bolster and pillow and blankets—by George and the -dragon! I’ll give myself up to the beaks.’</p> - -<p>Then he moaned, and squeezed Eve’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>‘Green peas,’ he said when the paroxysm was over. -‘Duck and green peas; I shall dine off that to-morrow—and -tell the cook not to forget the mint. Also some carrot -sliced, boiled, then fried in Devonshire cream, with a little -shallot cut very fine and toasted, sprinkled on top. ‘Sweetheart,’ -aside to Eve into her ear, ‘you shall come and have -a snack with me. Remember, it is an invitation. We -will not have old solemn face with us as a mar-fun, shall -we?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span></p> - -<p>The woodman’s hut when reached after a slow ascent -was found to be small, warm, and in good condition. It -was so low that a man could not stand upright in it, but -it was sufficiently long to allow him to lie his length -therein. The sides were of wattled oak branches, compacted -with heather and moss, and the roof was of turf. -The floor was dry, deep bedded in fern.</p> - -<p>‘It is a dog’s kennel,’ said the dissatisfied Martin; ‘or -rather it is not so good as that. It is the sort of place made -for swans and geese and ducks beside a pond, for shelter -when they lay their eggs. It really is humiliating that I -should have to bury my head in a sort of water-fowl’s sty.’</p> - -<p>Eve promised that Martin should have whatever he -desired. Jasper had, naturally, a delicacy in offering anything -beyond his own services, though he knew he could -rely on Barbara.</p> - -<p>When they had seen the exhausted and anguished -martyr gracefully reposing on the bracken bed, to rest -after his painful walk, and had already left, they were recalled -by his voice shouting to Jasper, regardless of every -consideration that should have kept him quiet, ‘Don’t be -a fool, Jasper, and shake the bottle. If you break the -crust I won’t drink it.’ And again the call came, ‘Mind -the green peas.’</p> - -<p>As Jasper and Eve walked back to Morwell neither -spoke much, but on reaching the last gate, Eve said—</p> - -<p>‘O, dear Mr. Jasper, do help me to persuade Barbie to -let me go! I have made up my mind; I must and will -see the play and hear all that the manager can tell me -about my mother.’</p> - -<p>‘I will go to Plymouth, Miss Eve. I must see this -Mr. Justice Barret, and I will learn every particular for you.’</p> - -<p>‘That is not enough. I want to see a play. I have -never been to a theatre in all my life.’</p> - -<p>‘I will see what your sister says.’</p> - -<p>‘I am obstinate. I shall go, whether she says yes -or no.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘To-morrow is Sunday,’ said Jasper, ‘when no theatre -is open.’</p> - -<p>‘Besides,’ added Eve, ‘there is poor Martin’s duck and -green peas to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>‘And crusted port. If we go, it must be Monday.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c302" id="c302">CHAPTER XLVI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">‘PRECIOSA.’</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Eve</span> had lost something of her light-heartedness; in -spite of herself she was made to think, and grave alternatives -were forced upon her for decision. The careless girl -was dragged in opposite directions by two men, equally -selfish and conceited, the one prosaic and clever, the other -æsthetic but ungifted; each actuated by the coarsest self-seeking, -neither regarding the happiness of the child. -Martin had a passionate fancy for her, and had formed -some fantastic scheme of turning her into a singer and -an actress; and Mr. Coyshe thought of pushing his way -in town by the aid of her money.</p> - -<p>Eve was without any strength of character, but she -had obstinacy, and where her pleasure was concerned she -could be very obstinate. Hitherto she had not been required -to act with independence. She had submitted in -most things to the will of her father and sister, but then -their will had been to give her pleasure and save her annoyance. -She had learned always to get her own way by -an exhibition of peevishness if crossed.</p> - -<p>Now she had completely set her heart on going to -Plymouth. She was desirous to know something about -her mother, as her father might not be questioned concerning -her; and she burned with eagerness to see a play. -It would be hard to say which motive predominated. One -alone might have been beaten down by Barbara’s opposition, -but two plaited in and out together made so tough a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -string that it could not be broken. Barbara did what she -could, but her utmost was unavailing. Eve had sufficient -shrewdness to insist on her desire to see and converse with -a friend of her mother, and to say as little as possible -about her other motive. Barbara could appreciate one, -she would see no force in the other.</p> - -<p>Eve carried her point. Barbara consented to her -going under the escort of Jasper. They were to ride to -Beer Ferris and thence take boat. They were not to stay -in Plymouth, but return the same way. The tide was -favourable; they would probably be home by three o’clock -in the morning, and Barbara would sit up for them. It -was important that Mr. Jordan should know nothing of -the expedition, which would greatly excite him. As for -Martin, she would provide for him, though she could not -undertake to find him duck and green peas and crusted -port every day.</p> - -<p>One further arrangement was made. Eve was engaged -to Mr. Coyshe, therefore the young doctor was to be -invited to join Eve and Jasper at Beer Alston, and accompany -her to Plymouth. A note was despatched to him to -prepare him, and to ask him to have a boat in readiness, -and to allow of the horses being put in his stables.</p> - -<p>Thus, everything was settled, if not absolutely in accordance -with Eve’s wishes—she objected to the company -of the doctor—yet sufficiently so to make her happy. Her -happiness became greater as the time approached for her -departure, and when she left she was in as joyful a mood -as any in which Barbara had ever seen her.</p> - -<p>Everything went well. The weather was fine, and the -air and landscape pleasant; not that Eve regarded either -as she rode to Beer Alston. There the tiresome surgeon -joined her and Jasper, and insisted on giving them refreshments. -Eve was impatient to be on her way again, -and was hardly civil in her refusal; but the harness of -self-conceit was too dense over the doctor’s breast for him -to receive a wound from her light words.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> - -<p>In due course Plymouth was reached, and, as there -was time to spare, Eve, by her sister’s directions, went to -a convent, where were some nuns of their acquaintance, -and stayed there till fetched by the two young men to go -with them to the theatre. Jasper had written before and -secured tickets.</p> - -<p>At last Eve sat in a theatre—the ambition, the dream -of her youth was gratified. She occupied a stall between -Jasper and Mr. Coyshe, a place that commanded the house, -but was also conspicuous.</p> - -<p>Eve sat looking speechlessly about her, lost in astonishment -at the novelty of all that surrounded her; the decorations -of white and gold, the crimson curtains, the chandelier -of glittering glass-drops, the crowd of well-dressed -ladies, the tuning of the instruments of the orchestra, the -glare of light, were to her an experience so novel that she -felt she would have been content to come all the way for -that alone. That she herself was an object of notice, -that opera-glasses were turned upon her, never occurred to -her. Fond as she was of admiration, she was too engrossed -in admiring to think that she was admired.</p> - -<p>A hush. The conductor had taken his place and raised -his wand. Eve was startled by the sudden lull, and the -lowering of the lights.</p> - -<p>Then the wand fell, and the overture began. ‘Preciosa’ -had been performed in London the previous season -for the first time, and now, out of season, it was taken to -the provinces. The house was very full. A military -orchestra played.</p> - -<p>Eve knew the overture arranged for the piano, for Jasper -had introduced her to it; she had admired it; but -what was a piano arrangement to a full orchestra? Her -eye sparkled, a brilliant colour rushed into her cheek. -This was something more beautiful than she could have -conceived. The girl’s soul was full of musical appreciation, -and she had been kept for seventeen years away from -the proper element in which she could live.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then the curtain rose, and disclosed the garden of Don -Carcamo at Madrid. Eve could hardly repress an exclamation -of astonishment. She saw a terrace with marble -statues, and a fountain of water playing, the crystal drops -sparkling as they fell. Umbrageous trees on both sides -threw their foliage overhead and met, forming a succession -of bowery arches. Roses and oleanders bloomed at the -sides. Beyond the terrace extended a distant landscape of -rolling woodland and corn fields threaded by a blue winding -river. Far away in the remote distance rose a range -of snow-clad mountains.</p> - -<p>Eve held up her hands, drew a long breath and sighed, -not out of sadness, but out of ecstasy of delight.</p> - -<p>Don Fernando de Azevedo, in black velvet and lace, -was taking leave of Don Carcamo, and informing him that -he would have left Madrid some days ago had he not been -induced to stay and see Preciosa, the gipsy girl about -whom the town was talking. Then entered Alonzo, the -son of Don Carcamo, enthusiastic over the beauty, talent, -and virtue of the maiden.</p> - -<p>Eve listened with eager eyes and ears, she lost not a -word, she missed not a motion. Everything she saw was -real to her. This was true Spain, yonder was the Sierra -Nevada. For aught she considered, these were true hidalgoes. -She forgot she was in a theatre, she forgot everything, -her own existence, in her absorption. Only one -thought obtruded itself on her connecting the real with the -fictitious. Martin ought to have stood there as Alonzo, in -that becoming costume.</p> - -<p>Then the orchestra played softly, sweetly—she knew -the air, drew another deep inspiration, her flush deepened. -Over the stage swept a crowd of gentlemen and ladies, and -a motley throng singing in chorus. Then came in gipsies -with tambourines and castanets, and through the midst of -them Preciosa in a crimson velvet bodice and saffron skirt, -wearing a necklace of gold chains and coins.</p> - -<p>Eve put her hands over her mouth to check the cry of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -astonishment; the dress—she knew it—it was that she -had found in the chest. It was that, or one most similar.</p> - -<p>Eve hardly breathed as Preciosa told the fortunes of -Don Carcamo and Don Fernando. She saw the love of -Alonzo kindled, and Alonzo she had identified with Martin. -She—she herself was Preciosa. Had she not worn that -dress, rattled that tambourine, danced the same steps? -The curtain fell; the first act was over, and the hum of -voices rose. But Eve heard nothing. Mr. Coyshe endeavoured -to engage her in conversation, but in vain. She -was in a trance, lifted above the earth in ecstasy. She was -Preciosa, she lived under a Spanish sun. This was her -world, this real life. No other world was possible henceforth, -no other life endurable. She had passed out of a -condition of surprise; nothing could surprise her more, -she had risen out of a sphere where surprise was possible -into one where music, light, colour, marvel were the proper -atmosphere.</p> - -<p>The most prodigious marvels occur in dreams and excite -no astonishment. Eve had passed into ecstatic dream.</p> - -<p>The curtain rose, and the scene was forest, with rocks, -and the full moon shining out of the dark blue sky, silvering -the trunks of the trees and the mossy stones. A gipsy -camp; the gipsies sang a chorus with echo. The captain -smote with hammer on a stone and bade his men prepare -for a journey to Valencia. The gipsies dispersed, and then -Preciosa appeared, entering from the far background, with -the moonlight falling on her, subduing to low tones her -crimson and yellow, holding a guitar in her hands. She -seated herself on a rock, and the moonbeams played about -her as she sang and accompanied herself on her instrument.</p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">Lone am I, yet am not lonely,</p> -<p class="pp7">For I see thee, loved and true,</p> -<p class="pp6">Round me flits thy form, thine only,</p> -<p class="pp7">Moonlit gliding o’er the dew.</p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">Wander where I may, or tarry,</p> -<p class="pp7">Hangs my heart alone on thee,</p> -<p class="pp6">Ever in my breast I carry</p> -<p class="pp7">Thoughts that burn and torture me.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pp6 p1">Unattainable and peerless</p> -<p class="pp7">In my heaven a constant star,</p> -<p class="pp6">Heart o’erflowing, eyes all tearless,</p> -<p class="pp7">Gaze I on thee from afar.</p> - -<p class="p1">The exquisite melody, the pathos of the scene, the -poetry of the words, were more than Eve could bear, and -tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. Coyshe looked round in -surprise; he heard her sob, and asked if she were tired or -unwell. No! she sobbed out of excess of happiness. -The combined beauty of scene and song oppressed her -heart with pain, the pain of delight greater than the heart -could contain.</p> - -<p>Eve saw Alonzo come, disguised as a hunter, having -abandoned his father, his rank, his prospects, for love of -Preciosa. Was not this like Martin?—Martin the heroic, -the self-sacrificing man who rushed into peril that he might -be at her feet—Martin, now laid up with rheumatism for -her sake.</p> - -<p>She saw the gipsies assemble, their tents were taken -down, bales were collected, all was prepared for departure. -Alonzo was taken into the band and fellowship was sworn.</p> - -<p>The moon had set, but see—what is this? A red light -smites betwixt the trees and kindles the trunks orange and -scarlet, the rocks are also flushed, and simultaneously with -a burst, joyous, triumphant, the whole band sing the -chorus of salutation to the rising sun. Preciosa is exalted -on a litter and is borne on the shoulders of the gipsies. -The light brightens, the red blaze pervades, transforms the -entire scene, bathes every actor in fire; the glorious song -swells and thrills every heart, and suddenly, when it -seemed to Eve that she could bear no more, the curtain -fell. She sprang to her feet, unconscious of everything -but what she had seen and heard, and the whole house -rose with her and roared its applause and craved for more.</p> - -<p>It is unnecessary for us to follow Eve’s emotions -through the entire drama, and to narrate the plot, to say -how that the gipsies arrive at the castle of Don Fernando<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -where he is celebrating his silver wedding, how his son -Eugenio, by an impertinence offered to Preciosa, exasperates -the disguised Alonzo into striking him, and is -arrested, how Preciosa intercedes, and how it is discovered -that she is the daughter of Don Fernando, stolen seventeen -years before. The reader may possibly know the -drama; if he does not, his loss is not much; it is a drama -of little merit and no originality, which would never have -lived had not Weber furnished it with a few scraps of incomparably -beautiful music.</p> - -<p>The curtain fell, the orchestra departed, the boxes were -emptying. All those in the stalls around Eve were in -movement. She gave a long sigh and woke out of her -dream, looked round at Jasper, then at Mr. Coyshe, and -smiled; her eyes were dazed, she was not fully awake.</p> - -<p>‘Very decent performance,’ said the surgeon, ‘but we -shall see something better in London.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, Eve,’ said Jasper, ‘are you ready? I will ask -for the manager, and then we must be pushing home.’</p> - -<p>‘Home!’ repeated Eve, and repeated it questioningly.</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ answered Jasper, ‘have you forgotten the row -up the river and the ride before us?’</p> - -<p>She put her hand to her head.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Jasper,’ she said, ‘I feel as if I were at home -now—here, where I ought always to have been, and was -going again into banishment.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c308" id="c308">CHAPTER XLVII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">NOAH’S ARK.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> left Eve with Mr. Coyshe whilst he went in quest -of the manager. He had written to Mr. Justice Barret as -soon as it was decided that the visit was to be made, so as -to prepare him for an interview, but there had not been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -time for a reply. The surgeon was to order a supper at -the inn. A few minutes later Jasper came to them. He -had seen the manager, who was then engaged, but requested -that they would shortly see him in his rooms at -the inn. Time was precious, the little party had a journey -before them. They therefore hastily ate their meal, and -when Eve was ready, Jasper accompanied her to the apartments -occupied by the manager. Mr. Coyshe was left over -the half-consumed supper, by no means disposed, as it had -to be paid for, to allow so much of it to depart uneaten.</p> - -<p>Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to the -rooms occupied by the manager and his family, and on -opening it was met by a combination of noises that bewildered, -and of odours that suffocated.</p> - -<p>‘Come in, I am glad to see you,’ said a voice; ‘Justice -sent word I was to expect and detain you.’</p> - -<p>The manager’s wife came forward to receive the visitors.</p> - -<p>She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled -hair, cut short—a head like that of the ‘curly-headed plough-boy.’ -Eve could hardly believe her eyes, this was the real -Preciosa, who on the stage had worn dark flowing hair. -The face was good-humoured, simple, but not clean, for -the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed off. It -adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. -Also a ring of white powder lingered on her neck and at -the roots of her hair on her brow.</p> - -<p>‘Come in,’ she said, with a kindly smile that made -pleasant dimples in her cheeks, ‘but take care where you -walk. This is my parrot, a splendid bird, look at his green -back and scarlet wing. Awake, old Poll?’</p> - -<p>‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ answered the -parrot hoarsely, with the hard eyes fixed on Eve.</p> - -<p>The girl turned cold and drew back.</p> - -<p>‘Look at my Tom,’ said Mrs. Justice Barret, ‘how he -races round his cage.’ She pointed to a squirrel tearing -inanely up the wires of a revolving drum in which he was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -confined. ‘That is the way in which he greets my return -from the theatre. Mind the cradle! Excuse my dress, I -have been attending to baby.’ She rocked vigorously. -‘Slyboots, he knows when I come back without opening -his peepers. Sucking your thumb vigorously, are you? I -could eat it—I could eat you, you are sweet as barley-sugar.’ -The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms -into the cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it -screamed.</p> - -<p>‘What is Jacko about, I wonder,’ said the ex-Preciosa; -‘do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old -woman during a sermon. I’ll warrant he’s been at more -mischief. What do you suppose I have found him out in? -I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time -came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished -stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mistrusted -Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with -baby, I locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you -believe me? he found what I had concealed. He plunged -into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled -the whole; not only so, but he has left his hair on the -sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I -do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I’ll survive it. -Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the -end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and -we must not be hard on him.’</p> - -<p>The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. -He knew that his delinquencies were being expatiated -on.</p> - -<p>‘You have not seen all my family yet,’ said Mrs. -Barret. ‘There is a box of white mice under the bed in the -next room. The darlings are so tame that they will nestle -in my bosom. Do you believe me? I went once to the -theatre, quite forgetting one was there, till I came to dress, -I mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my -leads that evening, I was distracted lest the mouse should -get away. I told the prompter to keep him till I could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -reclaim the rascal. Come in, dears! Come in!’ This -was shouted, and a boy and girl burst in at the door.</p> - -<p>‘My only darlings, these three,’ said Mrs. Barret, -pointing to the children and the babe. ‘They’ve been -having some supper. Did you see them on the stage? -They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your clothes, -pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to-night. -I have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Say -them twice over to-morrow morning instead. What? -Hungry still? Here, Jacko! surrender that crust, and -Polly must give up her lump of sugar; bite evenly between -you.’ Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face -all smiles, ‘I love animals! I have been denied a large -family, I have only three, but then—I’ve not been married -six years. One must love. What would the world be -without love? We are made to love. Do you agree with -me, Jacko, you mischievous little pig? Now—no biting, -Polly! You snapping also?’</p> - -<p>Then, to her visitors, ‘Take a chair—that is—take -two.’</p> - -<p>To her children, ‘What, is this manners? Your hat, -Bill, and your frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what -other rags of clothes on the only available chairs.’ She -swept the children’s garments upon the floor, and kicked -them under the table.</p> - -<p>‘Now then,’ to the guests, ‘sit down and be comfortable. -Justice will be here directly. Barret don’t much -like all these animals, but Lord bless your souls! I can’t -do without them. My canary died,’ she sniffled and wiped -nose and eyes on the back of her hand. ‘He got poisoned -by the monkey, I suspect, who fed him on scraps of green -paper picked off the wall. One must love! But it comes -expensive. They make us pay damages wherever we stay. -They charge things to our darlings I swear they never did. -The manager is as meek as Moses, and he bears like a -miller’s ass. Here he comes—I know his sweet step. -Don’t look at me. I’ll sit with my back to you, baby is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -fidgety.’ Then entered the manager, Mr. Justice Barret, -a quiet man with a pasty face.</p> - -<p>‘That’s him,’ exclaimed the wife, ‘I said so. I knew -his step. I adore him. He is a genius. I love him—even -his pimples. One must love. Now—don’t mind me.’ The -good-natured creature carried off her baby into a corner, -and seated herself with it on a stool: the monkey followed -her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the manager, -and seated himself beside her, also with his back to the -company, and was engrossed in her proceedings with the -baby.</p> - -<p>Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice his -wife’s age, had a very smooth face shining with soap. His -hands were delicate and clean. He wore polished boots, -and white cravat, and a well-brushed black frock-coat. -How he managed in a menagerie of children and animals -to keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company.</p> - -<p>‘O Barret dear!’ exclaimed his lady, looking over -her shoulder, and the monkey turned its head at the same -time. ‘I’ve had a jolly row with the landlady over that -sheet to which I set fire.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear,’ said the manager, ‘how often have I urged -you not to learn your part on the bed with the candle by -your side or in your hand? You will set fire to your precious -self some day.’</p> - -<p>‘About the sheet, Barret,’ continued his wife; ‘I’ve -paid for it, and have torn it into four. It will make -pocket-handkerchiefs for you, dear.’</p> - -<p>‘Rather large?’ asked the manager deferentially.</p> - -<p>‘Rather, but that don’t matter. Last longer before -coming to the wash, and so save money in the end.’</p> - -<p>The manager was now at length able to reach and -shake hands with Eve and Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘Bless me, my dear child,’ he said to the former, ‘you -remind me wonderfully of your mother. How is she? I -should like to see her again. A sad pity she ever gave up -the profession. She had the instincts of an artiste in her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -but no training, horribly amateurish; that, however, would -rub off.’</p> - -<p>‘She is dead,’ answered Eve. ‘Did you not know -that?’</p> - -<p>‘Dead!’ exclaimed the manager. ‘Poor soul! so -sweet, so simple, so right-minded. Dead, dead! Ah me! -the angels go to heaven and the sinners are left. Did -she remain with your father, or go home to her own -parents?’</p> - -<p>‘I thought,’ said Eve, much agitated, ‘that you could -have told me concerning her.’</p> - -<p>‘I!’ Mr. Justice Barret opened his eyes wide. ‘I!’</p> - -<p>‘My dear!’ called Mrs. Barret, ‘will you be so good as -to throw me over my apron. I am dressing baby for the -night, and heaven alone knows where his little night-shirt -is. I’ll tie him up in this apron.’ ‘Does your mother -know you’re out?’ asked the parrot with its head on one -side, looking at Eve.</p> - -<p>‘I think,’ said Jasper, ‘it would be advisable for me to -have a private talk with you, Mr. Barret, if you do not -mind walking with me in the square, and then Miss Eve -Jordan can see you after. Our time is precious.’</p> - -<p>‘By all means,’ answered the manager, ‘if Miss Jordan -will remain with my wife.’</p> - -<p>‘O yes,’ said Eve, looking at the parrot; she was alarmed -at the bird.</p> - -<p>‘Do not be afraid of Poll,’ said Mr. Barret. Then to -his wife, ‘Sophie! I don’t think it wise to tie up baby as -you propose. He might be throttled. We are going out. -Look for the night dress, and let me have the apron again -for Polly.’</p> - -<p>At once the article required rushed like a rocket through -the air, and struck the manager on the breast.</p> - -<p>‘There,’ said he, ‘I will cover Polly, and she will go -to sleep and talk no more.’</p> - -<p>Then the manager and Jasper went out.</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ said the latter, ‘in few words I beg you to tell<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -me what you know about the wife of Mr. Jordan of Morwell. -She was my sister.’</p> - -<p>‘Indeed!—and your name? I forget what you wrote.’</p> - -<p>‘My name is Babb, but that matters nothing.’</p> - -<p>‘I never knew that of your sister. She would not tell -whence she came or who she was.’</p> - -<p>‘From your words just now,’ said Jasper, ‘I gather -that you are unaware that she eloped from Morwell with -an actor. I could not speak of this before her daughter.’</p> - -<p>‘Eloped with an actor!’ repeated the manager. ‘If -she did, it was after I knew her. Excuse me, I cannot believe -it. She may have gone home to her father; he -wanted her to return to him.’</p> - -<p>‘You know that?’</p> - -<p>‘Of course I do. He came to me, when I was at Tavistock, -and learned from me where she was. He went to -Morwell to see her once or twice, to induce her to return -to him.’</p> - -<p>‘You must be very explicit,’ said Jasper gravely. ‘My -sister never came home. Neither my father nor I know -to this day what became of her.’</p> - -<p>‘Then she must have remained at Morwell. Her -daughter says she is dead.’</p> - -<p>‘She did not remain at Morwell. She disappeared.’</p> - -<p>‘This is very extraordinary. I will tell you all I know, -but that is not much. She was not with us very long. -She fell ill as we were on our way from Plymouth to -Launceston, and we were obliged to leave her at Morwell, -the nearest house, that is some eighteen or nineteen years -ago. She never rejoined us. After a year, or a year and -a half, we were at Tavistock, on our way to Plymouth, -from Exeter by Okehampton, and there her father met us, -and I told him what had become of her. I know that I -walked out one day to Morwell and saw her. I believe her -father had several interviews with her, then something -occurred which prevented his meeting her as he had engaged, -and he asked me to see her again and explain his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -absence. I believe her union with the gentleman at Morwell -was not quite regular, but of that I know nothing for -certain. Anyhow, her father disapproved and would not -meet Mr., what was his name?—O, Jordan. He saw his -daughter in private, on some rock that stands above the -Tamar. There also I met her, by his direction. She was -very decided not to leave her child and husband, though -sorry to offend and disobey her father. That is all I know—yes!—I -recall the day—Midsummer Eve, June the -twenty-third. I never saw her again.’</p> - -<p>‘But are you not aware that my father went to Morwell -on the next day, Midsummer Day, and was told that Eve -had eloped with you?’</p> - -<p>‘With me!’ the manager stood still. ‘With me! -Nonsense!’</p> - -<p>‘On the twenty-fourth she was gone.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Barret shook his head. ‘I cannot understand.’</p> - -<p>‘One word more,’ said Jasper. ‘You will see Miss -Eve Jordan. Do not tell her that I am her uncle. Do not -cast a doubt on her mother’s death. Speak to her only in -praise of her mother as you knew her.’</p> - -<p>‘This is puzzling indeed,’ said the manager. ‘We -have had a party with us, an amateur, a walking character, -who talked of Morwell as if he knew it, and I told him -about the Miss Eve we had left there and her marriage to -the squire. I may have said, “If ever you go there again, -remember me to the lady, supposing her alive, and tell me -if the child be as beautiful as I remember her mother.”’</p> - -<p>‘There is but one man,’ said Jasper, ‘who holds the -key to the mystery, and he must be forced to disclose.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c316" id="c316">CHAPTER XLVIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">IN PART.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Mr. Jordan</span> knew more of what went on than Barbara -suspected. Jane Welsh attended to him a good deal, and -she took a mean delight in spying into the actions of her -young mistresses, and making herself acquainted with -everything that went on in the house and on the estate. -In this she was encouraged by Mr. Jordan, who listened to -what she told him and became excited and suspicious; and -the fact of exciting his suspicions was encouragement to -the maid. The vulgar mind hungers for notoriety, and -the girl was flattered by finding that what she hinted -stirred the crazy mind of the old man. He was a man -prone to suspicion, and to suspect those nearest to him. -The recent events at Morwell had made him mistrust his -own children. He could not suppose that Martin Babb -had escaped without their connivance. It was a triumph -to the base mind of Jane to stand closer in her master’s -confidence than his own children, and she used her best -endeavours to thrust herself further in by aggravating his -suspicions.</p> - -<p>Barbara was not at ease in her own mind, she was -particularly annoyed to hear that Martin was still in the -neighbourhood, on their land; naturally frank, she was -impatient of the constraint laid on her. She heartily desired -that the time would come when concealments might -end. She acknowledged the necessity for concealment, but -resented it, and could not quite forgive Jasper for having -forced it upon her. She even chilled in her manner towards -him, when told that Martin was still a charge. The -fact that she was obliged to think of and succour a man -with whom she was not in sympathy, reacted on her relations -with Jasper, and produced constraint.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<p>That Jane watched her and Jasper, Barbara did not -suspect. Honourable herself, she could not believe that -another would act dishonourably. She under-valued Jane’s -abilities. She knew her to be a common-minded girl, fond -of talking, but she made no allowance for that natural -inquisitiveness which is the seedleaf of intelligence. The -savage who cannot count beyond the fingers of one hand -is a master of cunning. There is this difference between -men and beasts. The latter bite and destroy the weakly of -their race; men attack, rend, and trample on the noblest -of their species.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan knew that Jasper and Eve had gone together -for a long journey, and that Barbara sat up awaiting -their return. He had been left unconsulted, he was -uninformed by his daughters, and was very angry. He -waited all next day, expecting something to be said on the -subject to him, but not a word was spoken.</p> - -<p>The weather now changed. The brilliant summer days -had suffered an eclipse. The sky was overcast with grey -cloud, and cold north-west winds came from the Atlantic, -and made the leaves of beech and oak shiver. On the -front of heaven, on the face of earth, was written Ichabod—the -glory is departed. What poetry is to the mind, -that the sun is to nature. The sun was withdrawn, and -the hard light was colourless, prosaic. There was nowhere -beauty any more. Two chilly damp days had transformed -all. Mr. Jordan shivered in his room. The days seemed -to have shortened by a leap.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan, out of perversity, because Barbara had -advised his remaining in, had walked into the garden, and -after shivering there a few minutes had returned to his -room, out of humour with his daughter because he felt -she was in the right in the counsel she gave.</p> - -<p>Then Jane came to him, with mischief in her eyes, -breathless. ‘Please, master,’ she said in low tones, looking -about her to make sure she was not overheard. ‘What -do y’ think, now! Mr. Jasper have agone to the wood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -carrying a blanket. What can he want that for, I’d like -to know. He’s not thinking of sleeping there, I reckon.’</p> - -<p>‘Go after him, Jane,’ said Mr. Jordan. ‘You are a -good girl, more faithful than my own flesh and blood. Do -not allow him to see that he is followed.’</p> - -<p>The girl nodded knowingly, and went out.</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ said Mr. Jordan to himself, ‘I’ll come to the -bottom of this plot at last. My own children have turned -against me. I will let them see that I can counter-plot. -Though I be sick and feeble and old, I will show that I am -master still in my own house. Who is there?’</p> - -<p>Mr. Coyshe entered, bland and fresh, rubbing his -hands. ‘Well, Jordan,’ said he—he had become familiar -in his address since his engagement—’how are you? And -my fairy Eve, how is she? None the worse for her -junket?’</p> - -<p>‘Junket!’ repeated the old man. ‘What junket?’</p> - -<p>‘Bless your soul!’ said the surgeon airily. ‘Of course -you think only of curdled milk. I don’t allude to that -local dish—or rather bowl—I mean Eve’s expedition to -Plymouth t’other night.’</p> - -<p>‘Eve—Plymouth!’</p> - -<p>‘Of course. Did you not know? Have I betrayed a -secret? Lord bless me, why should it be kept a secret? -She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no better, and -thought the performance was perfection. I have seen -Kemble, and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial -theatre it was well enough.’</p> - -<p>‘You went with her to the theatre?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I and Mr. Jasper. But don’t fancy she went -only out of love of amusement. She went to see the -manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.’</p> - -<p>‘Barret?’</p> - -<p>‘That’s the man, because he had known her mother.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan’s face changed, and his eyes stared. He -put up his hands as though waving away something that -hung before him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘And Jasper?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Jasper was with her. They left me to eat my -supper in comfort. I can’t afford to spoil my digestion, -and I’m particularly fond of crab. You cannot eat crab -in a scramble and do it justice.’</p> - -<p>‘Did Jasper see the manager?’ Mr. Jordan’s voice -was hollow. His hands, which he held deprecatingly -before him, quivered. He had his elbows on the arms of -his chair.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, yes, of course he did. Don’t you understand? -He went with Eve whilst I finished the crab. It was -really a shame; they neither of them half cleaned out -their claws, they were in such a hurry. “Preciosa” was -not amiss, but I preferred crab. One can get plays better -elsewhere, but crab nowhere of superior quality.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan began to pick at the horse-hair of his chair -arm. There was a hole in the cover and his thin white -nervous fingers plucked at the stuffing, and pulled it out -and twisted it and threw it down, and plucked again.</p> - -<p>‘What—what did Jasper hear?’ he asked falteringly.</p> - -<p>‘How can I tell, Jordan? I was not with them. I -tell you, I was eating my supper quietly, and chewing -every mouthful. I cannot bolt my food. It is bad—unprincipled -to do so.’</p> - -<p>‘They told you nothing?’</p> - -<p>‘I made no inquiries, and no information was volunteered.’</p> - -<p>A slight noise behind him made Coyshe turn. Eve -was in the doorway. ‘Here she is to answer for herself,’ -said the surgeon. ‘Eve, my love, your father is curious -about your excursion to Plymouth, and wants to know all -you heard from the manager.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! I ought to have told you!’ stammered -Eve.</p> - -<p>‘What did he say?’ asked the old man, half-impatiently, -half fearfully.</p> - -<p>‘Look here, governor,’ said the surgeon; ‘it strikes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -me that you are not acting straight with the girl, and as -she is about to become my wife, I’ll stand up for her and -say what is fitting. I cannot see the fun of forcing her -to run away a day’s journey to pick up a few scraps of -information about her mother, when you keep locked up -in your own head all that she wants to know. I can understand -and make allowance for you not liking to tell her -everything, if things were not—as is reported—quite -ecclesiastically square between you and the lady. But -Eve is no longer a child. I intend her to become my -wife, and sooner or later she must know all. Make a -clean breast and tell everything.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Jasper entering, ‘the advice is good.’</p> - -<p>‘You come also!’ exclaimed the old man, firing up -and pointing with trembling fingers to the intruder; ‘<i>you</i> -come—<i>you</i> who have led my children into disobedience? -My own daughters are in league against me. As for this -girl, Eve, whom I have loved, who has been to me as the -apple of my eye, she is false to me.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! dear papa!’ pleaded Eve with tears, ‘do -not say this. It is not true.’</p> - -<p>‘Not true? Why do you practise concealment from -me? Why do you carry about with you a ring which Mr. -Coyshe never gave you? Produce it, I have been told -about it. You have left it on your table and it has been -seen, a ring with a turquoise forget-me-not. Who gave -you that? Answer me if you dare. What is the meaning -of these runnings to and fro into the woods, to the -rocks?’ The old man worked himself into wildness and -want of consideration for his child, and for Coyshe to whom -she was engaged. ‘Listen to me, you,’ he turned to the -surgeon, holding forth his stick which he had caught up; -‘you shall judge between us. This girl, this daughter of -mine, has met again and again in secret a man whom I -hate, a man who robbed his own father of money that -belonged to me, a man who has been a jail-bird, an -escapedfelon. Is not this so? Eve, deny it if you can.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Father!’ began Eve, trembling, ‘you are ill, you are -excited.’</p> - -<p>‘Answer me!’ he shouted so loud as to make all start, -striking at the same time the floor with his stick, ‘have -you not met him in secret?’</p> - -<p>She hung her head and sobbed.</p> - -<p>‘You aided that man in making his escape when he -was in the hands of the police. I brought the police upon -him, and you worked to deliver him. Answer me. Was -it not so?’</p> - -<p>She faintly murmured, ‘Yes.’</p> - -<p>This had been but a conjecture of Mr. Jordan. He -was emboldened to proceed, but now Jasper stood forward, -grave, collected, facing the white, wild old man. ‘Mr. -Jordan,’ he said, ‘that man of whom you speak is my -brother. I am to blame, not Miss Eve. Actively neither -I nor—most assuredly—your daughter assisted in his -escape; but I will not deny that I was aware he meditated -evasion, and he effected it, not through active assistance -given him, but because his guards were careless, and because -I did not indicate to them the means whereby he -was certain to get away, and which I saw and they overlooked.’</p> - -<p>‘Stand aside,’ shouted the angry old man. He loved -Eve more than he loved anyone else, and as is so often the -case when the mind is unhinged, his suspicion and wrath -were chiefly directed against his best beloved. He struck -at Jasper with his stick, to drive him on one side, and he -shrieked with fury to Eve, who cowered and shrank from -him. ‘You have met this felon, and you love him. That -is why I have had such difficulty with you to get your -consent to Mr. Coyshe. Is it not so? Come, answer.’</p> - -<p>‘I like poor Martin,’ sobbed Eve. ‘I forgive him for -taking my money; it was not his fault.’</p> - -<p>‘See there! she confesses all. Who gave you that -ring with the blue stones of which I have been told? It -did not belong to your mother. Mr. Coyshe never gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -it you. Answer me at once or I will throw my stick at -you. Who gave you that ring?’</p> - -<p>The surgeon, in his sublime self-conceit, not for a -moment supposing that any other man had been preferred -to himself, thinking that Mr. Jordan was off his head, -turned to Eve and said in a low voice, ‘Humour him. It -is safest. Say what he wishes you to say.’</p> - -<p>‘Martin gave me the ring,’ she answered, trembling.</p> - -<p>‘How came you one time to be without your mother’s -ring? How came you at another to be possessed of it? -Explain that.’</p> - -<p>Eve threw herself on her knees with a cry.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, papa! dear papa! ask me no more questions.’</p> - -<p>‘Listen all to me,’ said Mr. Jordan, in a loud hard -voice. He rose from his chair, resting a hand on each -arm, and heaving himself into an upright position. His -face was livid, his eyes burned like coals, his hair bristled -on his head, as though electrified. He came forward, -walking with feet wide apart, and with his hands uplifted, -and stood over Eve still kneeling, gazing up at him with -terror.</p> - -<p>‘Listen to me, all of you. I know more than any of -you suppose. I spy where you are secret. That man who -robbed me of my money has lurked in this neighbourhood -to rob me of my child. Shall I tell you who he is, this -felon, who stole from his father? He is her mother’s -brother, Eve’s uncle.’</p> - -<p>Eve stared with blank eyes into his face, Martin—her -uncle! She uttered a cry and covered her eyes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c322" id="c322">CHAPTER XLIX.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE OLD GUN.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Mr. Jordan</span> was alone in his room. Evening had set in, -the room was not only chilly, it was dark. He sat in his -leather-backed leather-armed chair with his stick in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -hands,—in both hands, held across him, and now and -then he put the stick up to his mouth and gnawed at it -in the middle. At others he made a sudden movement, -slipping his hand down to the ferule and striking in the -air with the handle at the black spots which floated in the -darkness, of a blackness most intense. He was teased by -them, and by his inability to strike them aside. His stick -went through them, as through ink, and they closed again -when cut, and drifted on through his circle of vision unhurt, -undisturbed.</p> - -<p>Mr. Coyshe was gone; he had ordered the old man to -be left as much in quiet as might be, and he had taken a -boy from the farm with him on a horse, to bring back a -soothing draught which he promised to send. Mr. Jordan -had complained of sleeplessness, his nerves were evidently -in a high and perilous state of tension. Before he -left, Mr. Coyshe had said to Barbara, ‘Keep an eye on your -father, there is irritation somewhere. He talks in an unreasoning -manner. I will send him something to compose -him, and call again to-morrow. In the meantime,’ he -coughed, ‘I—I—would not allow him to shave himself.’</p> - -<p>Barbara’s blood curdled. ‘You do not think—’ She -was unable to finish her sentence.</p> - -<p>‘Do as I say, and do not allow him to suppose himself -watched.’</p> - -<p>Now Barbara acted with unfortunate indiscretion. -Knowing that her father was suspicious of her, and complained -of her observing him, knowing also that his suspicions -extended to Jasper whom he disliked, knowing also -that he had taken a liking for Jane, she bade Jane remain -about her father, and not allow him to be many minutes -unwatched.</p> - -<p>Jane immediately went to the old gentleman, and told -him the instructions given her. ‘And—please your -honour,’ she crept close to him, ‘I’ve seen him. He is on -the Raven Rock. He has lighted a fire and is warming -himself. I think it be the very man that was took here,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -but I can’t say for certain, as I didn’t see the face of him -as was took, nor of him on the Rock, but they be both -men, and much about a height.’</p> - -<p>‘Jane! Is Joseph anywhere about?’</p> - -<p>‘No sir,—not nigher than Tavistock.’</p> - -<p>‘Go to him immediately. Bid him collect what men -he can, and surround the fellow and secure him.’</p> - -<p>‘But, your honour! Miss Barbara said I was to watch -you as a cat watches a mouse.’</p> - -<p>‘Who is master here, I or she? I order you to go; -and if she is angry I will protect you against her. I am -to be watched, am I? By my own children? By my -servant? This is more than I can bear. The whole -world is conspiring against me. How can I trust anyone—even -Jane? How can I say that the police were not -bribed before to let him go? And they may be bribed -again. Trust none but thyself,’ he muttered, and stood -up.</p> - -<p>‘Please, master,’ said Jane, ‘you may be certain I will -do what you want. I’m not like some folks, as is unnatural -to their very parents. Why, sir! what do y’ -think? As I were a coming in, who should run by me, -looking the pictur’ of fear, but Miss Eve. And where do -y’ think her runned? Why, sir—I watched her, and her -went as fast as a leaping hare over the fields towards the -Raven Rock—to where he be. Well, I’m sure I’d not do -that. I don’t mind a-going to love feasts in chapel with -Joseph, but I wouldn’t go seeking him in a wood. Some -folks have too much self-respect for that, I reckon.’ She -muttered this looking up at the old man, uncertain how he -would take it.</p> - -<p>‘Go,’ said he. ‘Leave me—go at once.’</p> - -<p>Presently Barbara came in, and found her father -alone.</p> - -<p>‘What, no one with you, papa?’</p> - -<p>‘No—I want to be alone. Do you grudge me quiet? -Must I live under a microscope? Must I have everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -I do marked, every word noted? Why do you peer in -here? Am I an escaped felon to be guarded? Am I -likely to break out? Will you leave me? I tell you I do -not want you here. I desire solitude. I have had you -and Coyshe and Eve jabbering here till my head spins and -my temples are bursting. Leave me alone.’ Then, with -the craftiness of incipient derangement, he said, ‘I have -had two—three bad nights, and want sleep. I was dozing -in my chair when Jane came in to light a fire. I sent her -out. Then, when I was nodding off again, I heard cook -or Jasper tramping through the hall. That roused me, -and now when I hoped to compose myself again, you thrust -yourself upon me; are you all in a league to drive me -mad, by forbidding me sleep? That is how Hopkins, the -witch-finder, got the poor wretches to confess. He would -not suffer them to sleep, and at last, in sheer madness and -hunger for rest, they confessed whatever was desired of -them. You want to force something out of me. That is -why you will not let me sleep.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa dear, I shall be so glad if you can sleep. I promise -you shall be left quite alone for an hour.’</p> - -<p>‘O—an hour! limited to sixty minutes.’</p> - -<p>‘Dear papa, till you rap on the wall, to intimate that -you are awake.’</p> - -<p>‘You will not pry and peer?’</p> - -<p>‘No one shall come near you. I will forbid everyone -the hall, lest a step on the pavement should disturb you.’</p> - -<p>‘What are you doing there?’</p> - -<p>‘Taking away your razor, papa.’</p> - -<p>Then he burst into a shrill, bitter laugh—a laugh that -shivered through her heart. He said nothing, but remained -chuckling in his chair.</p> - -<p>‘I dare say Jasper will sharpen them for you, papa, he -is very kind,’ said Barbara, ashamed of her dissimulation. -So it came about that the old half-crazy squire was left in -the gathering gloom entirely alone and unguarded. Nothing -could do him more good than a refreshing sleep, Barbara<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -argued, and went away to her own room, where she lit a -candle, drew down her blind, and set herself to needlework.</p> - -<p>She had done what she could. The pantry adjoined -the room of her father. Jane would hear if he knocked or -called. She did not know that Jane was gone.</p> - -<p>Ignatius Jordan sat in the armchair, biting at his stick, -or beating in the air with it at the blots which troubled his -vision. These black spots took various shapes; sometimes -they were bats, sometimes falling leaves. Then it -appeared to him as if a fluid that was black but with a -crimson glow in it as of a subdued hidden fire was running -and dripped from ledge to ledge—invisible ledges they -were—in the air before him. He put his stick out to -touch the stream, and then it ran along the stick and -flowed on his hand and he uttered a cry, because it burned -him. He held his hand up open before him, and thought -the palm was black, but with glowing red veins intersecting -the blackness, and he touched the lines with the -finger of his left hand.</p> - -<p>‘The line of Venus,’ he said, ‘strong at the source, -fiery and broken by that cross cut—the line of life—long, -thin, twisted, tortured, nowhere smooth, and here—What -is this?—the end.’</p> - -<p>Then he looked at the index finger of his left hand, the -finger that had traced the lines, and it seemed to be alight -or smouldering with red fire.</p> - -<p>He heard a strange sound at the window, a sound -shrill and unearthly, close as in his ear, and yet certainly -not in the room. He held his breath and looked round. -He could see nothing through the glass but the grey -evening sky, no face looking in and crying at the window. -What was it? As he looked it was repeated. In his -excited condition of mind he did not seek for a natural -explanation. It was a spirit call urging him on. It was -silent. Then again repeated. Had he lighted the candle -and examined the glass he would have seen a large snail<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -crawling up the pane, creating the sound by the vibration -of the glass as it drew itself along.</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Jordan rose out of his chair, and looking -cautiously from side to side and timorously at the window -whence the shrill sound continued, he unlocked a cupboard -in the panelling and drew from it powder and shot.</p> - -<p>Barbara had taken away his razors. She feared lest he -should do himself an injury; but though he was weary of -his life, he had no thought of hastening his departure from -it. His mind was set with deadly resolution of hate on -Martin—Martin, that man who had robbed him, who -escaped from him as often as he was taken. Everyone -was in league to favour Martin. No one was to be trusted -to punish him. He must make sure that the man did not -escape this time. This time he would rely on no one but -himself. He crossed the room with soft step, opened the -door, and entered the hall. There he stood looking about -him. He could hear a distant noise of servants talking in -the kitchen, but no one was near, no eye observed him. -Barbara, true to her promise, was upstairs, believing him -asleep. The hall was dark, but not so dark that he -could not distinguish what he sought. Some one passed -with a light outside, a maid going to the washhouse. -The light struck through the transomed window of the -hall, painting a black cross against the wall opposite, -a black cross that travelled quickly and fell on the old -man, creeping along to the fireplace, holding the wall. -He remembered the Midsummer Day seventeen years ago -when he had stood there against that wall with arms extended -in the blaze of the setting sun as a crucified figure against -the black shadow of the cross. His life had been one long -crucifixion ever since, and his cross a shadow. Then he -stood on a hall chair and took down from its crooks an old -gun.</p> - -<p>‘Seventeen years ago,’ he muttered. ‘My God! it -failed not then, may it not fail me now!’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c328" id="c328">CHAPTER L.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BY THE FIRE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Martin</span> was weary of the woodman’s hut, as he was before -weary of the mine. Watt had hard work to pacify him. -His rheumatism was better. Neither Jasper nor Walter -could decide how far the attack was real and how far simulated. -Probably he really suffered, and exaggerated his -sufferings to provoke sympathy.</p> - -<p>Whilst the weather was summery he endured his captivity, -for he could lie in the sun on a hot rock and smoke or -whistle, with his hands in his pockets, and Martin loved to -lounge and be idle; but when the weather changed, he became -restive, ill-humoured, and dissatisfied. What aggravated -his discontent was a visit from Barbara, whom he -found it impossible to impress with admiration for his -manly beauty and pity for his sorrows.</p> - -<p>‘That girl is a beast,’ he said to Walter, when she was -gone. ‘I really could hardly be civil to her. A perfect -Caliban, devoid of taste and feeling. Upon my word some -of our fellow-beings are without humanity. I could see -through that person at a glance. She is made up of -selfishness. If there be one quality most repulsive to me, -that is it—selfishness. I do not believe the creature cast -a thought upon me, my wants, my sufferings, my peril. -Watt, if she shows her ugly face here again, stand against -the door, and say, “Not at home.”’</p> - -<p>‘Dear Martin, we will go as soon as you are well enough -to leave.’</p> - -<p>‘Whither are we to go? I cannot join old Barret and -his wife and monkeys and babies and walking-sticks of -actors, as long as he is in the county. I would go to -Bristol or Bath or Cheltenham if I had money, but these -miserly Jordans will not find me any. They want to drive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -me away without first lining my pocket. I know what was -meant by those cold slabs of mutton, to-day. It meant, go -away. I wait till they give me money.’</p> - -<p>‘Dear Martin, you must not be inconsiderate.’</p> - -<p>‘I glory in it. What harm comes of it? It is your -long-headed, prudent prophets who get into scrapes and -can’t get out of them again. I never calculate; I act on -impulse, and that always brings me right.’</p> - -<p>‘Not always, Martin, or you would not be here.’</p> - -<p>‘O, yes, even here. When the impulse comes on me to -go, I shall go, and you will find I go at the right time. If -that Miss Jordan comes here again with her glum ugly -mug, I shall be off. Or Jasper, looking as if the end of -the world were come. I can’t stand that. See how -cleverly I got away from Prince’s Town.’</p> - -<p>‘I helped you, Martin.’</p> - -<p>‘I do not pretend that I did all myself. I did escape, -and a brilliantly executed manœuvre it was. I thought I -was caught in a cleft stick when I dropped on the party of -beaks at the “Hare and Hounds,” but see how splendidly -I got away. I do believe, Watt, I’ve missed my calling, -and ought to have been a general in the British army.’</p> - -<p>‘But, dear Martin, generals have to scheme other -things beside running away.’</p> - -<p>‘None of your impudence, you jackanapes. I tell you -I do <i>not</i> scheme. I act on the spur of the moment. If I -had lain awake a week planning I could have done nothing -better. The inspiration comes to me the moment I require -it. Your vulgar man always does the wrong thing when -an emergency arises. By heaven, Watt! this is a dog’s -life I am leading, and not worth living. I am shivering. -The damp worms into one’s bones. I shall go out on the -Rock.’</p> - -<p>‘O, Martin, stay here. It is warmer in this hut. A -cold wind blows.’</p> - -<p>‘It is midwinter here, and can’t be more Siberia-like -out there. I am sick of the smell of dry leaves. I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -tired of looking at withered sticks. The monotony of this -place is unendurable. I wish I were back in prison.’</p> - -<p>‘I will play my violin to amuse you,’ said the boy.</p> - -<p>‘Curse your fiddle, I do not want to have that squeaking -in my ears; besides, it is sure to be out of tune with the -damp, and screw up as you may, before you have gone five -bars it is flat again. Why has Eve not been here to tell -me of what she saw in Plymouth?’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Martin, you must consider. She dare not -come here. You cannot keep open house, and send round -cards of invitation, with “Mr. Martin Babb at home.”’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t care. I shall go on the Rock, and have a -fire.’</p> - -<p>‘A fire!’ exclaimed Watt, aghast.</p> - -<p>‘Why not? I am cold, and my rheumatism is worse. -I won’t have rheumatic fever for you or all the Jordans -and Jaspers in Devonshire.’</p> - -<p>‘I entreat you, be cautious. Remember you are in -hiding. You have already been twice caught.’</p> - -<p>‘Because on both occasions I ran into the hands of the -police. The first time I attempted no concealment. I did -not think my father would have been such a—such a pig -as to send them after me. I’ll tell you what, my boy, there -is no generosity and honour anywhere. They are like the -wise teeth that come, not to be used, but to go, and go -painfully.’ Then he burst out of the hut, and groaning -and cursing scrambled through the coppice to the Raven -Rock.</p> - -<p>Walter knew too well that when his brother had resolved -on anything, however outrageous, it was in vain for -him to attempt dissuasion. He therefore accompanied him -up the steep slope and through the bushes, lending him a -hand, and drawing the boughs back before him, till he -reached the platform of rock.</p> - -<p>The signs of autumn were apparent everywhere. Two -days before they had not been visible. The bird-cherry -was turning; the leaves of the dogwood were royal purple,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -and those at the extremity of the branches were carmine. -Here and there umbelliferous plants had turned white; all -the sap was withdrawn, they were bleached at the prospect -of the coming decay of nature. The heather had donned its -pale flowers; but there was no brightness in the purples and -pinks, they were the purples and pinks not of sunflush, but -of chill. A scent of death pervaded the air. The foxgloves -had flowered up their long spires to the very top, -and only at the very top did a feeble bell or two bloom whilst -the seeds ripened below. No butterflies, no moths even -were about. The next hot day the scarlet admirals would -be out, but now they hung with folded wings downwards, -exhibiting pepper and salt and no bright colour under the -leaves, waiting and shivering.</p> - -<p>‘Everything is doleful,’ said Martin, standing on the -platform and looking round. ‘Only one thing lacks to -make the misery abject, and that is rain. If the clouds -drop, and the water leaks into my den, I’ll give myself up, -and secure a dry cell somewhere—then Jasper and the -Jordans may make the best of it. I’m not going to become -a confirmed invalid to save Jasper’s pride, and help -on his suit to that dragon of Wantley. If he thinks it -against his interest that I should be in gaol, I’ll go back -there. I’m not eager to have that heap of superciliousness -as a sister-in-law, Walter, so collect sticks and fern that -I may have a fire.’</p> - -<p>‘Martin, do not insist on this; the light and smoke -will be seen.’</p> - -<p>‘Who is there to see? This rock is only visible from -Cornwall, and there is no bridge over the Tamar for some -miles up the river. Who will care to make a journey of -some hours to ask why a fire has been kindled on the Raven -Rock? Look behind, the trees screen this terrace, no one -at Morwell will see. The hills and rocks fold on the river -and hide us from all habitable land. Do not oppose me; -I will have a fire.’</p> - -<p>‘O, Martin,’ said the boy, ‘you throw on me all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> -responsibility of caring for your safety, and you make my -task a hard one by your thoughtlessness.’</p> - -<p>‘I am so unselfish,’ said Martin gravely. ‘I never do -consider myself. I can’t help it, such is my nature.’</p> - -<p>Walter reluctantly complied with his brother’s wish. -The boy had lost his liveliness. The mischief and audacity -were driven out of him by the responsibility that weighed -on him.</p> - -<p>Abundance of fuel was to be had. The summer had -been hot, and little rain had fallen. Wood had been cut -the previous winter, and bundles of faggots lay about, that -had not been removed and stacked.</p> - -<p>Before long the fire was blazing, and Martin crouched -at it warming his hands and knees. His face relaxed whilst -that of Walter became lined with anxiety. As he was thus -seated, Jasper came on him carrying a blanket. He was -dismayed at what his brother had done, and reproached -him.</p> - -<p>Martin shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is very well for you -in a dry house, on a feather bed and between blankets, but -very ill for poor me, condemned to live like a wild beast. -You should have felt my hands before I had a fire to thaw -them at, they were like the cold mutton I had for my -dinner.’</p> - -<p>‘Martin, you must put that fire out. You have acted -with extreme indiscretion.’</p> - -<p>‘Spare me your reproaches; I know I am indiscreet. -It is my nature, as it lies in the nature of a lion to be noble, -and of a dog to be true.’</p> - -<p>‘Really,’ said Jasper, hotly, disturbed out of his usual -equanimity by the folly of his brother, ‘really, Martin, you -are most aggravating. You put me to great straits to help -you, and strain to the utmost my relations to the Jordan -family. I do all I can—more than I ought—for you, and -you wantonly provoke danger. Who but you would have -had the temerity to return to this neighbourhood after your -escape and my accident! Then—why do you remain here?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -I cannot believe in your illness. Your lack of common -consideration is the cause of incessant annoyance to your -friends. That fire shall go out.’ He went to it resolutely, -and kicked it apart, and threw some of the flaming oak -sticks over the edge of the precipice.</p> - -<p>‘I hope you are satisfied now,’ said Martin sulkily. -‘You have spoiled my pleasure, robbed me of my only -comfort, and have gained only this—that I wash my hands -of you, and will leave this place to-night. I will no longer -remain near you—inhuman, unbrotherly as you are.’</p> - -<p>‘I am very glad to hear that you are going,’ answered -Jasper. ‘You shall have my horse. That horse is my -own, and he will carry you away. Send Walter for it when -you like. I will see that the stable-door is open, and the -saddle and bridle handy. The horse is in a stable near the -first gate, away from the house, and can be taken unobserved.’</p> - -<p>‘You are mightily anxious to be rid of me,’ sneered -Martin. ‘And this is a brother!’</p> - -<p>‘I had brought you a blanket off my own bed, because -I supposed you were cold.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not have it,’ said Martin sharply. ‘If you -shiver for want of your blanket I shall be blamed. Your -heart will overflow with gall against poor me. Keep your -blanket to curl up in yourself. I shall leave to-night. I -have too much proper pride to stay where I am not wanted, -with a brother who begrudges me a scrap of fire.’</p> - -<p>Jasper held out his hand. ‘I must go back at once,’ -he said. ‘If you leave to-night it may be years before we -meet again. Come, Martin, you know me better than your -words imply. Do not take it ill that I have destroyed your -fire. I think only of your safety. Give me your hand, -brother; your interest lies at my heart.’</p> - -<p>Martin would not touch the proffered hand, he folded -his arms and turned away. Jasper looked at him, long -and sadly, but Martin would not relent, and he left.</p> - -<p>‘Get the embers together again,’ ordered Martin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -‘Under the Scottish fir are lots of cones full of resin; pile -them on the fire, and make a big blaze. Let Jasper see -it. I will show him that I am not going to be beaten by -his insolence.’</p> - -<p>‘He may have been rough, but he was right,’ said -Watt.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! you also turn against me! A viper I have cherished -in my bosom!’</p> - -<p>The boy sighed; he dare no longer refuse, and he sorrowfully -gathered the scattered fire together, fanned the -embers, applied to them bits of dry fern, then fir cones, -and soon a brilliant jet of yellow flame leaped aloft.</p> - -<p>Martin raised himself to his full height that the fire -might illuminate him from head to foot, and so he stood, -with his arms folded, thinking what a fine fellow he was, -and regretting that no appreciative eye was there to see -him.</p> - -<p>‘What a splendid creature man is!’ said he to himself -or Walter. ‘So great in himself; and yet, how little and -mean he becomes through selfishness! I pity Jasper—from -my heart I pity him. I am not angry—only sorry.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c334" id="c334">CHAPTER LI.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">A SHOT.</p> - -<p class="pn">‘<span class="smcap">Of</span> all things I could have desired—the best!’ exclaimed -Martin Babb as Eve came from the cover of the wood upon -the rocky floor. She was out of breath, and could not -speak. She put both hands on her breast to control her -breathing and quiet her throbbing heart.</p> - -<p>Martin drew one foot over the other, poising it on the -toe, and allowed the yellow firelight to play over his handsome -face and fine form. The appreciative eye was there. -‘Lovelier than ever!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Preciosa come -to the forest to Alonzo, not Alonzo to Preciosa.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pp7 p1">The forest green!<br /> -Where warm the summer sheen;</p> -<p class="pp8">And echo calls,<br /> -And calls—through leafy halls.</p> -<p class="pp6">Hurrah for the life ‘neath the greenwood tree!<br /> -My horn and my dogs and my gun for me!</p> -<p class="pp7">Trarah! Trarah! Trarah!’</p> - -<p class="p1">He sang the first verse of the gipsy chorus with rich -tones. He had a beautiful voice, and he knew it.</p> - -<p>The song had given her time to obtain breath, and she -said, ‘Oh, Martin, you must go—you must indeed!’</p> - -<p>‘Why, my Preciosa?’</p> - -<p>‘My father knows all—how, I cannot conjecture, but -he does know, and he will not spare you.’</p> - -<p>‘My sweet flower,’ said Martin, not in the least alarmed, -‘the old gentleman cannot hurt me. He cannot himself -fetch the dogs of justice and set them on me; and he cannot -send for them without your consent. There is plenty -of time for me to give them the slip. All is arranged. To-night -I leave on Jasper’s horse, which he is good enough -to lend me.’</p> - -<p>‘You do not know my father. He is not alone—Mr. -Coyshe is with him. I cannot answer for what he may do.’</p> - -<p>‘Hah!’ said Martin, ‘I see! Jealousy may spur him -on. He knows that we are rivals. Watt, be off with you -after the horse. Perhaps it would be better if I were to -depart. I would not spare that pill-compounding Coyshe -were he in my power, and I cannot expect him to spare -me.’ He spoke, and his action was stagy, calculated to -impress Eve.</p> - -<p>‘My dear Walter,’ said Martin, ‘go to Morwell some -other way than the direct path; workmen may be about—the -hour is not so late.’</p> - -<p>The boy did not wait for further orders.</p> - -<p>‘You need not fear for me,’ said the escaped convict. -‘Even if that despicable roll-pill set off to collect men, I -would escape him. I have but to leave this spot, and I am -safe. I presume not one of my pursuers will be mounted.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Why have you a fire here?’</p> - -<p>‘The fire matters nothing,’ said Martin grandly; ‘indeed’—he -collected more fircones and threw them on—’indeed, -if the form of the hare is to be discovered, let it -be discovered warm. The hunters will search the immediate -neighbourhood, and the hare will be flying far, far -away.’</p> - -<p>‘You know best, of course; but it seems to me very -dangerous.’</p> - -<p>‘I laugh at danger!’ exclaimed Martin, throwing a faggot -on the flames. ‘I disport in danger as the seamew in -the storm.’ He unfolded his arms and waved them over -the fire as a bird flapping its wings.</p> - -<p>‘And now,’ he went on, ‘I leave you—<i>you</i>—to that -blood-letter. Why do I trouble myself about my own -worthless existence, when you are about to fall a prey to -his ravening jaw? No, Eve, that must never be.’</p> - -<p>‘Martin,’ said Eve, ‘I must really go home. I only -ran here to warn you to be off, and to tell you something. -My father has just said that my mother was your -sister.’</p> - -<p>He looked at her in silence for some moments in real -astonishment—so real that he dropped his affected attitude -and expression of face.</p> - -<p>‘Can this be possible!’</p> - -<p>‘He declared before Mr. Coyshe and me that it was so.’</p> - -<p>‘You have the same name as my lost sister,’ said -Martin. ‘Her I hardly remember. She ran away from home -when I was very young, and what became of her we never -heard. If my father knew, he was silent about his knowledge. -I am sure Jasper did not know.’</p> - -<p>‘And Mr. Barret, the manager, did not know either,’ -added Eve. ‘When my mother was with him she bore a -feigned name, and said nothing about her parents, nor told -where was her home.’</p> - -<p>Then Martin recovered himself and laughed.</p> - -<p>‘Why, Eve,’ said he, ‘if this extraordinary story be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -true, I am your uncle and natural protector. This has -settled the matter. You shall never have that bolus-maker, -leech-applier, Coyshe. I forbid it. I shall stand between -you and the altar of sacrifice. I extend my wing, and you -take refuge under it. I throw my mantle over you and -assure you of my protection. The situation is really—really -quite dramatic.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not stand so near the edge of the precipice,’ pleaded -Eve.</p> - -<p>‘I always stand on the verge of precipices, but never -go over,’ he answered. ‘I speak metaphorically. Now, -Eve, the way is clear. You shall run away from home as -did your mother, and you shall run away with me. Remember, -I am your natural protector.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot—I cannot indeed.’ Eve shrank back.</p> - -<p>‘I swear you shall,’ said Martin impetuously. ‘It may -seem strange that I, who am in personal danger myself, -should consider you: but such is my nature—I never -regard self when I can do an heroic action. I say, Eve, -you shall go with me. I am a man with a governing will, -to which all must stoop. You have trifled with the doctor -and with me. I hate that man though I have never seen -him. I would he were here and I would send him, spectacles -and all——’</p> - -<p>‘He does not wear spectacles.’</p> - -<p>‘Do not interrupt. I speak symbolically. Spectacles -and all, I repeat, with his bottles of leeches, and pestle and -mortar, and pills and lotions, over the edge of this precipice -into perdition. Good heavens! if I leave and you remain, -I shall be coming back—I cannot keep away. If I escape, -it must be with you or not at all. You have a horse of -your own: you shall ride with me. You have a purse: -fill it and bring it in your pocket. Diamonds, silver spoons—anything.’</p> - -<p>She was too frightened to know what to say. He, -coward and bully as he was, saw his advantage, and assumed -the tone of bluster. ‘Do you understand me? I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -will not be trifled with. The thing is settled: you come -with me.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot—indeed I cannot,’ said Eve despairingly.</p> - -<p>‘You little fool! Think of what you saw in the theatre. -That is the proper sphere for you, as it is for me. You -were born to live on the stage. I am glad you have told -me what became of my sister. The artistic instinct is in -us. The fire of genius is in our hearts. You cannot drag -out life in such a hole as this: you must come into the -world. It was so with your mother. Whose example can -you follow better than that of a mother?’</p> - -<p>‘My father would——’</p> - -<p>‘Your father will not be surprised. What is born in -the bone comes out in the flesh. If your mother was an -actress—you must be one also. Compare yourself with -your half-sister. Is there soul in that mass of commonplace? -Is there fire in that cake? Her mother, you may -be certain, was a pudding—a common vulgar suet-pudding. -We beings of Genius belong to another world, and we must -live in that world or perish. It is settled. You ride with -me to-night. I shall introduce you to the world of art, -and you will soon be its most brilliant star.’</p> - -<p>‘Hark!’ exclaimed Eve, starting. ‘I heard something -stir.’</p> - -<p>Both were silent, and listened. They stood opposite -each other, near the edge of the precipice. The darkness -had closed in rapidly. The cloudy sky cut off the last -light of day. Far, far below, the river cast up at one -sweep a steely light, but for the most part of its course it -was lost in the inky murkiness of the shadows of mountain, -forest, and rock.</p> - -<p>Away at a distance of several miles, on the side of the -dark dome of Hingston Hill, a red star was glimmering—the -light from a miner’s or moorman’s cabin. The fire -that flickered on the platform cast flashes of gold on the -nearest oak boughs, but was unable to illumine the gulf of -darkness that yawned under the forest trees.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span></p> - -<p>Martin stood facing the wood, with his back to the -abyss, and the light irradiated his handsome features. -Eve timidly looked at him, and thought how noble he -seemed.</p> - -<p>‘Was it the sound of a horse’s hoof you heard?’ asked -Martin. ‘Walter is coming with Jasper’s horse.’</p> - -<p>‘I thought a bush moved,’ answered Eve, ‘and that I -heard a click.’</p> - -<p>‘It is nothing,’ said Martin, ‘nothing but an attempt -on your part to evade the force of my argument, to divert -the current of my speech. You women squirm like eels. -There is no holding you save by running a stick through -your gills. Mind you, I have decided your destiny. It -will be my pride to make a great actress of you. What -applause you will gain! What a life of merriment you -will lead! I shall take a pride in the thought that I have -snatched you away from under the nose of that doctor. -Pshaw!’—he paused—’pshaw! I do not believe that -story about your mother being my sister. Whether she -were or not matters nothing. You, like myself, have a -soul, and a soul that cannot live on a farmyard dungheap. -What is that! I hear a foot on the bracken. Can it be -Watt?’</p> - -<p>He was silent, listening. He began to feel uneasy. -Then from behind the wood came the shrill clangour of a -bell.</p> - -<p>‘Something has happened,’ said Eve, in great terror. -‘That is the alarm bell of our house.’</p> - -<p>‘My God!’ cried Martin, ‘what is Watt about! He -ought to have been here.’ In spite of his former swagger -he became uneasy. ‘Curse him, for a dawdle! am I going -to stick here till taken because he is lazy? That bell is -ringing still.’ It was pealing loud and fast. ‘I shall leave -this rock. If I were taken again I should never escape -more. Seven years! seven years in prison—why, the best -part of my life would be gone, and you—I should see you no -more. When I came forth you would be Mrs. Sawbones.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -I swear by God that shall not be. Eve! I will not have -it. If I get off, you shall follow me. Hark! I hear the -tramp of the horse.’</p> - -<p>He threw up his hands and uttered a shout of joy. He -ran forward to the fire, and stood by it, with the full glare -of the blazing fircones on his eager face.</p> - -<p>‘Eve! joy, joy! here comes help. I will make you -mount behind me. We will ride away together. Come, -we must meet Watt at the gate.’</p> - -<p>A crack, a flash.</p> - -<p>Martin staggered back, and put his hand to his breast. -Eve fell to her knees in speechless terror.</p> - -<p>‘Come here,’ he said hoarsely, and grasped her arm. -‘It is too late: I am struck, I am done for.’</p> - -<p>A shout, and a man was seen plunging through the -bushes.</p> - -<p>‘Eve!’ said Martin, ‘I will not lose you.’ He dragged -her two paces in his arms. All power of resistance was -gone from her. ‘That doctor shall not have you—I’ll -spoil that at least.’ He stooped, kissed her lips and cheek -and brow and eyes, and in a moment flung himself, with -her in his arms, over the edge of the precipice into the -black abyss.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c340" id="c340">CHAPTER LII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">THE WHOLE.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">A moment</span> later, only a moment later, and a moment too -late, Mr. Jordan reached the platform, having beaten the -branches aside, regardless of the leaves that lashed his face -and the brambles that tore his hands. Then, when he saw -that he was too late, he uttered a cry of despair. He flung -his gun from him, and it went over the edge and fell where -it was never found again. Then he raised his arms over -his head and clasped them, and brought them down on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -hair—he wore no hat; and at the same time his knees -gave way, and he fell fainting on his face, with his arms -extended: the wound in his side had reopened, and the -blood burst forth and ran in a red rill towards the fire.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Jasper came up. Watt was at the -gate with the horse. They had heard the shot, and Jasper -had run on. He was followed quickly by Walter, who -had fastened up the horse, unable to endure the suspense.</p> - -<p>‘Mr. Jordan is shot,’ gasped Jasper, ‘Martin has shot -him. Help me. I must staunch the wound.’</p> - -<p>‘Not I,’ answered the boy; ‘I care nothing for him. I -must find Martin. Where is he? Gone to the hut? There -is no time to be lost. I must find him—that cursed bell is -ringing.’</p> - -<p>Without another thought for the prostrate man, Walter -plunged into the coppice, and ran down the steep slope towards -the woodcutter’s hovel. It did not occur to Jasper -that the shot he had heard proceeded from the squire’s -gun. He knew that Martin was armed. He supposed that -he had seen the old man emerge from the wood, and, supposing -him to be one of his pursuers, had fired at him and -made his escape. He knew nothing of Eve’s visit to the -Raven Rock and interview with his brother.</p> - -<p>He turned the insensible man over on his back and discovered, -to his relief, that he was not dead. He tore open -his shirt and found that he was unwounded by any bullet, -but that the old self-inflicted wound in his side had opened -and was bleeding freely. He knew how to deal with this. -He took the old man’s shirt and tore it to form a bandage, -and passed it round him and stopped temporarily the ebbing -tide. He heard Walter calling Martin in the wood. -It was clear that he had not found his brother in the hut. -Now Jasper understood why the alarm-bell was ringing. -Barbara had discovered that her father had left the house, -and, in fear for the consequences, was summoning the -workmen from their cottages to assist in finding him.</p> - -<p>Watt reappeared in great agitation, and, without casting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> -a look at the insensible man, said, ‘He is not there, -he may be back in the mine. He may have unlocked the -boathouse and be rowing over the Tamar, or down—no—the -tide is out, he cannot get down.’ Then away he went -again into the wood.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan lay long insensible. He had lost much -blood. Jasper knelt by him. All was now still. The bell -was no longer pealing. No step could be heard. The bats -flitted about the rock; the fire-embers snapped. The wind -sighed and piped among the trees. The fire had communicated -itself to some dry grass, and a tuft flamed up, then -a little spluttering flame crept along from grass haulm and -twig to a tuft of heather, which it kindled, and which flared -up. Jasper, kneeling by Mr. Jordan, watched the progress -of the fire without paying it much attention. In moments -of anxiety trifles catch the eye. He dare not leave the -old man. He waited till those who had been summoned -by the bell came that way.</p> - -<p>Presently Ignatius Jordan opened his eyes. ‘Eve!’ he -said, and his dim eyes searched the feebly-illuminated -platform. Then he laid his head back again on the moss -and was unconscious or lost in dream—Jasper could not -decide which. Jasper went to the fire and threw on some -wood and collected more. The stronger the flame the more -likely to attract the notice of the searchers. He trod out -the fire where it stole, snakelike, along the withered grass -that sprouted out of the cracks in the surface of the rock. -He went to the edge of the precipice, and listened in hopes -of hearing something, he hardly knew what—a sound that -might tell him Walter had found his brother. He heard -nothing—no dip of oars, no rattle of a chain, from the -depths and darkness below. He returned to Mr. Jordan, -and saw that he was conscious and recognised him. The -old man signed to him to draw near.</p> - -<p>‘The end is at hand. The blood has nearly all run out. -Both are smitten—both the guilty and the guiltless.’</p> - -<p>Jasper supposed he was wandering in his mind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I will tell you all,’ said the old man. ‘You are her -brother, and ought to know.’</p> - -<p>‘You are speaking of my lost sister Eve!’ said Jasper -eagerly. Not a suspicion crossed his mind that anything -had happened to the girl.</p> - -<p>‘I shall soon rejoin her, and the other as well. I would -not speak before because of my child. I could not bear -that she should look with horror on her father. Now it -matters not. She has followed her mother. The need for -silence is taken away. Wait! I must gather my strength, -I cannot speak for long.’</p> - -<p>Then from the depths of darkness below the rock, came -the hoot of an owl. Jasper knew that it was Watt’s signal -to Martin—that he was searching for him still. No answering -hoot came.</p> - -<p>‘You went to Plymouth. You saw the manager who -had known my Eve. What did he say?’</p> - -<p>‘He told me very little.’</p> - -<p>‘Did he tell you where she was?’</p> - -<p>‘No. He saw her for the last time on this rock. He -had been sent here by her father, who was unable to keep -his appointment.’</p> - -<p>‘Go on.’</p> - -<p>‘That is all. She refused to desert you and her child. -It is false that she ran away with an actor.’</p> - -<p>‘Who said she had? Not I—not I. Her own father, -her own father—not I.’</p> - -<p>‘Then what became of her? Mr. Barret told me he -had been to see her here at Morwell once or twice whilst -the company was at Tavistock, and found her happy. After -that my father came and tried to induce her to return to -Buckfastleigh with him.’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan put out his white thin hand and laid it on -Jasper’s wrist.</p> - -<p>‘You need say no more. The end is come, and I will -tell you all. I knew that one of the actors came out and -saw her—not once only, but twice—and then her father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> -came, and she met him in secret, here in the wood, on this -rock. I did not know that he whom she met was her -father. I supposed she was still meeting the actor privately. -I was jealous. I loved Eve. Oh, my God! my -God!’—he put his hands against his temples—’when -have I ceased to love her?’</p> - -<p>He did not speak for some moments. Again from the -depths, but more distant, came the to-whoo of the owl. -Mr. Jordan removed his hands from his brow and laid -them flat at his side on the rock.</p> - -<p>‘I was but a country gentleman, with humble pursuits—a -silent man, who did not care for society—and I knew -that I could not compare with the witty attractive men of -the world. I knew that Morwell was a solitary place, and -that there were few neighbours. I believed that Eve was -unhappy here: I thought she was pining to go back to the -merry life she had led with the players. I thought she was -weary of me, and I was jealous—jealous and suspicious. I -watched her, and when I found that she was meeting someone -in secret here on this rock, and that she tried to hide -from me especially that she was doing this, then I went -mad—mad with disappointed love, mad with jealousy. I -knew she intended to run away from me.’ He made a sign -with his hand that he could say no more.</p> - -<p>Jasper was greatly moved. At length the mystery was -being revealed. The signs of insanity in the old man had -disappeared. He spoke with emotion, as was natural, -but not irrationally. The fact of being able to tell what -had long been consuming his mind relieved it, and perhaps -the blood he had lost reduced the fever which had produced -hallucination.</p> - -<p>Jasper said in as quiet a voice as he could command, -‘My sister loved you and her child, and had no mind to -leave you. She was grateful to you for your kindness -to her. Unfortunately her early life was not a happy one. -My father treated her with harshness and lack of -sympathy. He drove her, by his treatment, from home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> -Now, Mr. Jordan, I can well believe that in a fit of -jealousy and unreasoning passion you drove my poor sister -away from Morwell—you were not legally married, and -could do so. God forgive you! She did not desert you: -you expelled her. Now I desire to know what became of -her. Whither did she go? If she be still alive, I must -find her.’</p> - -<p>‘She is not alive,’ said Mr. Jordan.</p> - -<p>Then a great horror came over Jasper, and he shrank -away. ‘You did not drive her in a fit of desperation to—to -self-destruction?’</p> - -<p>Mr. Jordan’s earnest eyes were fixed on the dark night -sky. He muttered—the words were hardly audible—<i>Si -iniquitates observaveris, Domine: Domine, quis sustinebit?</i></p> - -<p>Jasper did not catch what he said, and thinking it was -something addressed to him, he stooped over Mr. Jordan -and said, ‘What became of her? How did she die? -Where is she buried?’</p> - -<p>The old man raised himself on one arm and tried to -sit up, and looked at Jasper with quivering lips; then -held his arm over the rock as, pointing to the abyss, -‘Here!’ he whispered, and fell back on the moss.</p> - -<p>Jasper saw that he had again become unconscious. -He feared lest life—or reason—should desert him before -he had told the whole story.</p> - -<p>It was some time before the squire was able to speak. -When consciousness returned he bent his face to Jasper, -and there was not that flicker and wildness in his eyes -which Jasper had observed at other times, and which had -made him uneasy. Mr. Jordan looked intently and steadily -at Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘She did not run away from me. I did not drive her -from my house as you think. It can avail nothing to -conceal the truth longer. I did not wish that Eve, my -child, should know it; but now—it matters no more. -My fears are over. I have nothing more to disturb me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> -I care for no one else. I saw my wife on this rock meet -the actor, I watched them. They did not know that I -was spying. I could not hear much of what they said; -I caught only snatches of sentences and stray words. I -thought he was urging her to go with him.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ interrupted Jasper, ‘it was not so. He advised -her not to return with her father, but to remain with you.’</p> - -<p>‘Was it so? I was fevered with love and jealousy. I -heard his last words—she was to be there on the morrow, -Midsummer Day, and then to give the final decision. If I -had had my gun I would have shot him there, but I was -unarmed. All that night I was restless. I could not -sleep; I was as one in a death agony. I thought that Eve -was going to desert me for another. And when on the -morrow, Midsummer Day, she went at the appointed hour -to the Raven Rock, I followed her. She had taken her -child—she had made up her mind—she was going. Then -I took down my gun and loaded it.’</p> - -<p>Jasper’s heart stood still. Now for the first time he -began to see and fear what was coming. This was worse -than he had anticipated.</p> - -<p>‘I crept along behind a hedge, till I reached the wood. -Then I stole through the gate under the trees. I came -beneath the great Scotch pine’—he pointed in the direction. -‘She had her child with her. She had made up her mind—so -I thought—to leave me, and take with her the babe. -That she could not leave. Now I see she took it only that -she might show the little thing to her father. I watched -her on the rock. She kissed the babe and soothed it, and -fondled it, and sang to it. She had a sweet voice. I was -watching—there—and I had my gun in my hands. The -man was not come. I saw rise up before me the life my -Eve would lead; I saw how she would sink, how the man -would desert her, and she would fall lower; and my child, -what would become of my child? Then she turned and -looked in my direction. She was listening for the step of -her lover. She stooped, and laid the child on the moss,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> -where I lie now. I suppose it opened its eyes, and she -began to sing and dance to it, snapping her fingers as -though playing castanets. My heart flared within me, my -hand shook, and God knows how it was—I do not. I -cannot say how it came about, but in one moment the gun -was discharged and she fell. I did not mean to kill her -when I loaded it, but I did mean to kill the man, the -seducer. But whether I did it purposely then, or my -finger acted without my will, I cannot say. All is dark -to me when I look back—dark as is the darkness over the -edge of this rock.’</p> - -<p>Jasper could not speak. He stood and looked with -horror on the wounded, wretched man.</p> - -<p>‘I buried her,’ said Mr. Jordan, ‘in the old copper-mine—long -deserted, and only known to me—and there -she lies. That is the whole.’</p> - -<p>Then he covered his eyes and said no more.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c347" id="c347">CHAPTER LIII.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">BY LANTERN-LIGHT.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">When</span> Barbara had finished her needlework, the wonder -which had for some time been obtruding itself upon her—what -had become of Eve—became prominent, and awoke -a fear in her lest she should have run off into the wood to -Martin. She did not wish to think that Eve would do -such a thing; but, if she were not in the house, and -neither her step nor her voice announced her presence, -where was she? Eve was never able to amuse herself, by -herself, for long. She must be with someone—with a -maid if no one else were available. She had no resources -in herself. If she were with Jasper, it did not matter; -but Barbara hardly thought Eve was with him.</p> - -<p>She laid aside her needlework, looked into her sister’s -room, without expecting to see Eve there, then descended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> -and sought Jane, to inquire whether her father had given -signs of being awake by knocking. Jane, however, was -not in the pantry nor in the kitchen. Jane had not been -seen for some time. Then Barbara very softly stole -through the hall and tapped at her father’s door. No -answer. She opened it and looked in. The room was -quite dark. She stood still and listened. She did not -hear her father breathe. In some surprise, but hardly yet -in alarm, she went for a candle, and returned with it to -the room Mr. Jordan occupied. To her amazement and -alarm, she found it empty. She ran into the parlour—no -one was there. She sought through the house and garden, -and stables—not a sign of her father anywhere, and, -strangely enough, not of Eve, or of Jane either. Jasper, -likewise, had not been seen for some time. Then, in her -distress, Barbara rang the alarm-bell, long, hastily, and -strongly. When, after the lapse of some while spent in -fruitless search, Barbara arrived at the Raven Rock, she -was not alone—two or three of the farm labourers and -Joseph the policeman were with her. Jane had found her -sweetheart on his way to Morwell to visit her. The light -of the fire on the Rock, illumining the air above the trees, -had attracted the notice of one of the workmen, and now -the entire party came on to the Rock as Mr. Jordan had -finished his confession, and Jasper, sick at heart, horror-stricken, -stood back, speechless, not able to speak.</p> - -<p>Barbara uttered a cry of dismay when she saw her -father, and threw herself on her knees at his side. He -made a sign to her to keep back, he did not want her; he -beckoned to Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘One word more,’ he said in a low tone. ‘My hours -are nearly over. Lay us all three together—my wife, my -child, and me.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa,’ said Barbara, ‘what do you mean? what is -the matter?’</p> - -<p>He paid no attention to her. ‘I have told you where -<i>she</i> lies. When you have recovered my poor child——’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘What child?’ asked Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘Eve; what other?’</p> - -<p>Jasper did not understand, and supposed he was wandering.</p> - -<p>‘He—your brother—leaped off the precipice with her -in his arms.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa!’ cried Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘She is dead—dashed to pieces—and he too.’</p> - -<p>Barbara looked at Jasper, then, in terror ran to the -edge. Nothing whatever could be seen. That platform -of rock might be the end of the world, a cliff jutting forth -into infinite space and descending into infinite abysses of -blackness. She leaned over and called, but received no -answer. Jasper could hardly believe in the truth of what -had been said. Turning to the policeman and servants, -he spoke sternly: ‘Mr. Jordan must be removed at once. -Let him be lifted very carefully and carried into the house. -He has lain here already unsuccoured too long.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not be removed,’ said the old man; ‘leave me -here, I shall take no further harm. Go—seek for the body -of my poor Eve.’</p> - -<p>‘John Westlake,’ called Barbara to one of the men, -‘give me the lantern at once.’ The man was carrying -one. Then, distracted between fear for her sister and -anxiety about her father, she ran back to Mr. Jordan to -know how he was.</p> - -<p>‘You need be in no immediate anxiety about him,’ -said Jasper. ‘It is true that his wound has opened and -bled, but I have tightly bandaged it again.’</p> - -<p>Joseph, the policeman, stood by helpless, staring -blankly about him and scratching his ear.</p> - -<p>Then Barbara noticed a blanket lying in a heap on the -rock—the blanket Jasper had brought to his brother, but -which had been refused. She caught it up at once and -tore it into shreds, knotted the ends together, took the -lantern from the man Westlake, and let the light down -the face of the crag. The lantern was of tin and horn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> -and through the sides but a dull light was thrown. She -could see nothing—the lantern caught in ivy and heather -bushes and turned on one side; the candle-flame scorched -the horn.</p> - -<p>‘I can see nothing,’ she said despairingly. ‘What -shall I do!’</p> - -<p>Suddenly she grasped Jasper’s hand, as he knelt by -her, looking down.</p> - -<p>‘Do you hear?’</p> - -<p>A faint moan was audible. Was it a human voice, or -was a bough swayed and groaning in the wind?</p> - -<p>All crowded to the edge and held their breath. Mr. -Jordan was disregarded in the immediate interest attaching -to the fate of Eve.</p> - -<p>No other sound was heard.</p> - -<p>Jasper ran and gathered fir and oak branches and -grass, bound them into a faggot, set it on fire, and threw -it over the edge, so that it might fall wide of the Rock and -illumine its face. There was a glare for a moment, but -the faggot went down too swiftly to be of any avail.</p> - -<p>Then Walter, whom none had hitherto observed, pushed -through, and, without saying a word to anyone, kicked off -his shoes and went over the edge.</p> - -<p>‘Let him go,’ said Jasper as one of the men endeavoured -to stay him; ‘the boy can climb like a squirrel. -Let him take the lantern, Barbara, that he may see where -to plant his foot and what to hold.’ Then he took the -blanket rope from her hand, raised the light, and slowly -lowered it again beside the descending boy.</p> - -<p>Watt went down nimbly yet cautiously, clinging to ivy -and tufts of grass, feeling every projection, and trying -with his foot before trusting his weight to it. He did not -hurry himself. He did not regard those who watched his -advance. His descent was in zigzags. He crept along -ledges, found a cleft or a step of stone, or a tuft of -heather, or a stem of ivy. All at once he grasped the -lantern.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘I see something! Oh, Jasper, what can it be!’ -gasped Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Be careful,’ he said; ‘do not overbalance yourself.’</p> - -<p>‘I have found <i>her</i>,’ shouted Watt; ‘only her—not -him.’</p> - -<p>‘God be praised!’ whispered Barbara.</p> - -<p>‘Is she alive?’ called Jasper.</p> - -<p>‘I do not know, I do not care. Martin is not here.’</p> - -<p>‘Now,’ said Jasper, ‘come on, you men—that is, all -but one. We must go below; not over the cliff, but round -through the coppice. We can find our way to the lantern. -The boy must be at the bottom. She has fallen,’ he addressed -Barbara now, ‘she has fallen, I trust, among -bushes of oak which have broken the force of the fall. Do -not be discouraged. Trust in God. Stay here and pray.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Jasper, I cannot! I must go with you.’</p> - -<p>‘You cannot. You must not. The coppice and brambles -would tear your clothes and hands and face. The -scramble is difficult by day and dangerous by night. You -must remain here by your father. Trust me. I will do -all in my power for poor Eve. We cannot bring her up -the way we descend. We must force our way laterally into -a path. You remain by your father, and let a man run -for another or two more lanterns.’</p> - -<p>Then Jasper went down by way of the wood with the -men scrambling, falling, bursting through the brakes; -some cursing when slashed across the face by an oak bough -or torn through cloth and skin by a braid of bramble. They -were quite invisible to Barbara, and to each other. They -went downward: fast they could not go, fearing at every -moment to fall over a face of rock; groping, struggling as -with snakes, in the coils of wood; slipping, falling, scrambling -to their feet again, calling each other, becoming -bewildered, losing their direction. The lantern that Watt -held was quite invisible to them, buried above their heads -in the densest undergrowth. The only man of them who -came unhurt out of the coppice was Joseph, who, fearing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> -for his face and hands and uniform, unwilling that he -should appear lacerated and disfigured before Jane, instead -of finding his way down through the brush, descended -leisurely by the path or road that made a long circuit to -the water’s edge, and then ascended by the same road -again to the place whence he had started.</p> - -<p>Jasper, who had more intelligence than the rest, had -taken his bearings, before starting, by the red star on the -side of Hingston Hill, that shone out of a miner’s hut -window. This he was able always to see, and by it to -steer his course; so that eventually he reached the spot -where was Watt with the lantern.</p> - -<p>‘Where is she? What are you doing?’ he asked -breathlessly. His hands were torn and bleeding, his face -bruised.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, I do not know. I left her. I want to find -Martin—he cannot be far off.’</p> - -<p>The boy was scrambling on a slope of fallen rubble.</p> - -<p>‘I insist, Watt: tell me. Give me the lantern at -once.’</p> - -<p>‘I will not. She is up there. You can make out the -ledge against the sky, and by the light of the fire above; -but Martin—whither is he gone?’</p> - -<p>Then away farther down went the boy with his lantern. -Instead of following him, Jasper climbed up the rubble -slope to the ledge. His eyes had become accustomed to the -dark. He distinguished the fluttering end of a white or -light-coloured dress. Then he swung himself up upon the -ledge, and saw, by the faint light that still lingered in the -sky, the figure of a woman—of Eve—lying on one side, -with the hands clinging to a broken branch of ivy. A -thick bed of heather was on this ledge—so thick that it -had prevented Eve from rolling off it when she had fallen -into the bush.</p> - -<p>He stooped over her. He felt her heart, he put his -ear to her mouth. Immediately he called up to Barbara, -‘She is alive, but insensible.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then he put his hands to his mouth and shouted to -the men who had started with him.</p> - -<p>He was startled by seeing Watt with the lantern close -to him: the light was on the boy’s face. It was agitated -with fear, rage, and distress. His eyes were full of tears, -sweat poured from his brow.</p> - -<p>‘Why do you shout?’ he said, and shook his fist in -Jasper’s face. ‘Have you no care for Martin? I cannot -find him yet, but he is near. Be silent, and do not bring -the men here. If he is alive I will get him away in the -boat. If he is dead——’ then his sobs burst forth. -‘Martin! poor Martin! where can he be! Do not call: -let no one come here. Oh, Martin, Martin!’ and away -went the boy down again. ‘Why is <i>she</i> fallen here and -found at once, and <i>he</i> is lost! Oh, Martin—poor Martin!’ -the edge of the rock came in the way of the light, and -Jasper saw no more of the boy and the lantern.</p> - -<p>Unrestrained by what his youngest brother had said, -Jasper called repeatedly, till at last the men gathered -where he was. Then, with difficulty Eve was moved from -where she lay and received in the arms of the men below. -She moaned and cried out with pain, but did not recover -consciousness.</p> - -<p>Watt was travelling about farther down with his dull -light, sometimes obscured, sometimes visible. One of the -men shouted to him to bring the lantern up, but his call -was disregarded, and next moment Watt and his lantern -were forgotten, as another came down the face of the cliff, -lowered by Barbara.</p> - -<p>Then the men moved away with their burden, and one -went before with the light exploring the way. Barbara -above knelt at the edge of the rock and prayed, and as she -prayed her tears fell over her cheeks.</p> - -<p>At length the little cluster of men appeared with their -light through the trees, approaching the Rock from the -wood; they had reached the path and were coming along -it. Jasper took the lantern and led the way.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘Lay her here,’ he said, ‘near her father, where there -is moss, till we can get a couple of gates.’ Then, suddenly, -as the men were about to obey him, he uttered an -exclamation of horror. He had put the lantern down -beside Mr. Jordan.</p> - -<p>‘Stand back,’ he said to Barbara, who was coming up, -‘stand back, I pray you!’</p> - -<p>But there was no need for her to stand back: she had -seen what he would have hidden from her. In the darkness -and loneliness, unobserved, Mr. Jordan had torn -away his bandages, and his blood had deluged the turf. -It had ceased to flow now—for he was dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c354" id="c354">CHAPTER LIV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">ANOTHER LOAD.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">The</span> sad procession moved to Morwell out of the wood, -preceded by the man Westlake, mounted on Jasper’s horse, -riding hard for the doctor. Then came a stable-boy with -the lantern, and after the light two gates—first, that on -which was laid the dead body of Mr. Jordan; then another, -followed closely by Barbara, on which lay Eve breathing, -but now not even moaning. As the procession was half -through the first field the bell of the house tolled. Westlake -had communicated the news to the servant-maids, and -one of them at once went to the bell.</p> - -<p>Lagging behind all came Joseph Woodman, the policeman. -The King of France in the ballad marched up a -hill, and then marched down again, having accomplished -nothing. Joseph had reversed the process: he had leisurely -marched down the hill, and then more leisurely -marched up it again; but the result was the same as that -attained by the King of France.</p> - -<p>On reaching Morwell Jasper said in a low voice to the -men, ‘You must return with me: there is another to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> -sought for. Who saw the boy with the lantern last? He -may have found him by this time.’</p> - -<p>Then Joseph said slowly, ‘As I was down by the -boathouse I saw something.’</p> - -<p>‘What did you see?’</p> - -<p>‘I saw up on the hill-side a lantern travelling this way, -then that way, so’—he made a zigzag indication in the air -with his finger. ‘It went very slow. It went, so to -speak, like a drop o’ rain on a window-pane, that goes this -way, then it goes a little more that way, then it goes quite -contrary, to the other side. Then it changes its direction -once again and it goes a little faster.’</p> - -<p>‘I wish you would go faster,’ said Jasper impatiently. -‘What did you see at last?’</p> - -<p>‘I’m getting into it, but I must go my own pace,’ said -Joseph with unruffled composure. ‘You understand me, -brothers—I’m not speaking of a drop o’ rain on a window-glass, -but of a lantern-light on the hill-side—and bless -you, that hill-side was like a black wall rising up on my -right hand into the very sky. Well then, the light it -travelled like a drop o’ rain on a glass—first to this side, -then to that. You’ve seen drops o’ rain how they travel’—he -appealed to all who listened. ‘And I reckon you -know how that all to once like the drop, after having -travelled first this road, then that road, in a queer contrary -fashion, and very slow, all to once like, as I said, -down it runs like a winking of the eye and is gone. So -exactly was it with thicky (that) there light. It rambled -about on the face of the blackness: first it crawled this -way, then it crept that; always, brothers, going a little -lower and then—to once—whish!—I saw it shoot like -a falling star—I mean a raindrop—and I saw it no -more.’</p> - -<p>‘And then?’</p> - -<p>‘Why—and then I came back the same road I went -down.’</p> - -<p>‘You did not go into the bushes in search?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘How should I?’ answered Joseph, ‘I’d my best uniform -on. I’d come out courting, not thief-catching.’</p> - -<p>‘And you know nothing further?’</p> - -<p>‘How should I? Didn’t I say I went back up the road -same way as I’d come down? I warn’t bound to get my -new cloth coat and trousers tore all abroad by brimbles, -not for nobody. I know my duty better than that. The -county pays for ‘em.’</p> - -<p>Directed by this poor indication, Jasper led the men -back into the wood and down the woodman’s truck -road, that led by a long sweep to the bottom of the -cliffs.</p> - -<p>The search was for a long time ineffectual; but at -length, at the foot of a rock, they came on the object of -their quest—the body of Martin—among fragments of -fallen crag, and over it, clinging to his brother with -one arm, the hand passed through the ring of a battered -lantern, was Walter. The light was extinguished in the -lantern and the light was beaten out of the brothers. -Jasper looked into the poor boy’s face—a scornful smile -still lingered on the lips.</p> - -<p>Apparently he had discovered his brother’s body and -then had tried to drag it away down the steep slope towards -the old mine, in the hopes of hiding there and finding -that Martin was stunned, not dead; but in the darkness -he had stumbled over another precipice or slidden -down a run of shale and been shot with his burden over a -rock. Again the sad procession was formed. The two -gates that had been already used were put in requisition a -second time, and the bodies of Martin and Watt were -carried to Morwell and laid in the hall, side by side, and -he who carried a light placed it at their head.</p> - -<p>Mr. Coyshe had arrived. For three of those brought -in no medical aid was of avail.</p> - -<p>Barbara, always practical and self-possessed, had -ordered the cook to prepare supper for the men. Then the -two dead brothers were left where they had been laid, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> -the dull lantern burning at their head, and the hungry -searchers went to the kitchen to refresh.</p> - -<p>Joseph ensconced himself by the fire, and Jane drew -close to him.</p> - -<p>‘I reckon,’ said the policeman, ‘I’ll have some hot -grog.’ Then he slid his arm round Jane’s waist and said, -‘In the midst of death we are in life. Is that really, now, -giblet pie? The cold joint I don’t fancy’—he gave Jane a -smack on the cheek. ‘Jane, I’ll have a good help of the -giblet pie, please, and the workmen can finish the cold -veal. I like my grog hot and strong and with three lumps -of double-refined sugar. You’ll take a sip first, Jane, and -I’ll drink where your honeyed lips have a-sipped. When -you come to consider it in a proper spirit’—he drew Jane -closer to his side—’there’s a deal of truth in Scriptur’. In -the midst of death we <i>are</i> in life. Why, Jane, we shall -enjoy ourselves this evening as much as if we were at a -love-feast. I’ve a sweet tooth, Jane—a very sweet tooth.’</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4"><a name="c357" id="c357">CHAPTER LV.</a></h2> - -<p class="pch">WHAT EVERY FOOL KNOWS.</p> - -<p class="pn"><span class="smcap">Jasper</span> stood on the staircase waiting. Then he heard a -step descend. There was no light: the maids, in the excitement -and confusion, had forgotten their duties. No -lamp on the staircase, none in the hall. Only in the latter -the dull glimmer of the horn lantern that irradiated but -did not illumine the faces of two who were dead. The oak -door at the foot of the stairs was ajar, and a feeble light -from this lantern penetrated to the staircase. The window -admitted some greyness from the overcast sky.</p> - -<p>‘Tell me, Barbara,’ he said, ‘what is the doctor’s -report?’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper!’ Then Barbara’s strength gave way, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> -she burst into a flood of tears. He put his arm round her, -and she rested her head on his breast and cried herself -out. She needed this relief. She had kept control over -herself by the strength of her will. There was no one in -the house to think for her, to arrange anything; she had -the care of everything on her, beside her great sorrow for -her father, and fear for Eve. As for the servant girls, they -were more trouble than help. <i>Men</i> were in the kitchen; -that sufficed to turn their heads and make them leave undone -all they ought to have done, and do just those things -they ought not to do. At this moment, after the strain, -the presence of a sympathetic heart opened the fountain of -her tears and broke down her self-restraint.</p> - -<p>Jasper did not interrupt her, though he was anxious to -know the result of Mr. Coyshe’s examination. He waited -patiently, with the weeping girl in his arms, till she looked -up and said, ‘Thank you, dear friend, for letting me cry -here: it has done me good.’</p> - -<p>‘Now, Barbara, tell me all.’</p> - -<p>‘Jasper, the doctor says that Eve will live.’</p> - -<p>‘God’s name be praised for that!’</p> - -<p>‘But he says that she will be nothing but a poor cripple -all her days.’</p> - -<p>‘Then we must take care of her.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, Jasper, I will devote my life to her.’</p> - -<p>‘<i>We</i> will, Barbara.’</p> - -<p>She took his hand and pressed it between both hers.</p> - -<p>‘But,’ she said hesitatingly, ‘what if Mr. Coyshe——’ -She did not finish the sentence.</p> - -<p>‘Wait till Mr. Coyshe claims her.’</p> - -<p>‘He is engaged to her, so of course he will, the more -readily now that she is such a poor crushed worm.’</p> - -<p>Jasper said nothing. He knew Mr. Coyshe better than -Barbara, perhaps. He had taken his measure when he -went with him over the farm after the signing of the -will.</p> - -<p>‘This place is hers by her father’s will,’ said Jasper;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> -‘and, should the surgeon draw back, she will need you and -me to look after her interests.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ said Barbara, ‘she will need us both.’</p> - -<p>Then she withdrew her hands and returned upstairs.</p> - -<p>A few days later Mr. Coyshe took occasion to clear the -ground. He explained to Barbara that his engagement -must be considered at an end. He was very sorry, but he -must look out for his own interests, as he had neither -parent alive to look out for them for him. It would be -quite impossible for him to get on with a wife who was a -cripple.</p> - -<p>‘You are premature, Mr. Coyshe,’ said Miss Jordan -stiffly. ‘If you had waited till my sister were able to -speak and act, she would have, herself, released you.’</p> - -<p>‘Exactly,’ said the unabashed surgeon; ‘but I am so -considerate of the feelings of the lady, that I spare her the -trouble.’</p> - -<p>And now let us spread the golden wings of fancy, and -fly the scenes of sorrow—but fly, not in space, but in time; -measure not miles, but months.</p> - -<p>It is autumn, far on into September, and Michaelmas -has brought with it the last days of summer. Not this -the autumn that we saw coming on, with the turning dogwood -and bird-cherry, but another.</p> - -<p>In the garden the colchicum has raised its pale lilac -flowers. The Michaelmas daisy is surrounded by the -humming-bird moth with transparent wings, but wings -that vibrate so fast that they can only be seen as a quiver -of light. The mountain ash is hung with clusters of -clear crimson berries, and the redbreasts and finches are -about it, tearing improvidently at the store, thoughtless -of the coming winter, and strewing the soil with wasted -coral.</p> - -<p>Eve is seated in the sun outside the house, in the garden, -and on her knees is a baby—Barbara’s child, and yet -Eve’s also, for if Barbara gave it life, Eve gave it a name. -Before her sister Barbara kneels, now just restored from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> -her confinement, a little pale and large in eye, looking up -at her sister and then down at the child. Jasper stands -by contemplating the pretty group.</p> - -<p>‘Eve,’ said Barbara in a low tremulous voice, ‘I have -had for some months on my heart a great fear lest, when -my little one came, I should love it with all my heart, and -rob you. I had the same fear before I married Jasper, -lest he should snatch some of my love away from the dear -suffering sister who needs all. But now I have no such -fear any more, for love, I find, is a great mystery—it is -infinitely divisible, yet ever complete. It is like’—she -lowered her voice reverently—’it is like what we Catholics -believe about the body of our Lord, the very Sacrament of -Love. That is in Heaven and in every church. It is on -every altar, and in every communicant, entire. I thought -once that when I had a husband, and then a little child, -love would suffer diminution—that I could not share love -without lessening the portion of each. But it is not so. -I love my baby with my whole undivided heart; I love -you, my sister, equally with my whole undivided heart; -and I love my husband also,’ she turned and smiled at -Jasper, ‘with my very whole and undivided heart. It is a -great mystery, but love is divine, and divine things are -perceived and believed by the heart, though beyond the -reason.’</p> - -<p>‘So,’ said Eve, smiling, and with her blue eyes filling, -‘my dear, dear Barbara, once so prosaic and so practical, -is becoming an idealist and poetical.’</p> - -<p>‘Wherever unselfish love reigns, there is poetry,’ said -Jasper; ‘the sweetest of the songs of life is the song of -self-sacrificing love. Barbara never was prosaic. She -was always an idealist; but, my dear Eve, the heart needs -culture to see and distinguish true poetry from false sentiment. -That you lacked at one time. That you have now. -I once knew a little girl, light of heart, and loving only -self, with no earnest purpose, blown about by every -caprice. Now I see a change—a change from base element<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> -to a divine presence. I see a sweet face as of old, -but I see something in it, new-born; a soul full of self-reproach -and passionate love; a heart that is innocent as -of old, but yet that has learned a great deal, and all good, -through suffering. I see a life that was once purposeless -now instinct with purpose—the purpose to live for duty, in -self-sacrifice, and not for pleasure. My dear Eve, the -great and solemn priest Pain has laid his hands on you -and broken you, and held you up to Heaven, and you -are not what you were, and yet—and yet are the same.’</p> - -<p>Eve could not speak. She put her arms round her -sister’s neck, and clung to her, and the tears flowed from -both their eyes, and fell upon the tiny Eve lying on the -knees of the elder Eve.</p> - -<p>But though they were clasped over the child, no shadow -fell on its little face. The baby laughed.</p> - -<table id="tb1" summary="tb1"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - <td class="tdc1">·</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p>Some years ago—the author cannot at the moment say -how many, nor does it matter—he paid a visit to Morwell, -and saw the sad havoc that had been wrought to the venerable -hunting-lodge of the Abbots of Tavistock. The old -hall had disappeared, a floor had been put across it, and it -had been converted into an upper and lower story of rooms. -One wing had been transformed into a range of model -cottages for labourers. The house of the Jordans was now -a farm.</p> - -<p>The author asked if he might see the remains of antiquity -within the house.</p> - -<p>An old woman who had answered his knock and ring, -replied, ‘There are none—all have been swept away.’</p> - -<p>‘But,’ said he, ‘in my childhood I remember that the -place was full of interest; and by the way, what has become -of the good people who lived here? I have been in -another part of the country, and indeed a great deal -abroad.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you mean Mr. Jasper?’</p> - -<p>‘No: Jasper, no—the name began with J.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span></p> - -<p>‘The old Squire Jordan your honour means, no doubt. -He be dead ages ago. Mr. Jasper married Miss Jordan—Miss -Barbara we called her. When Miss Eve died, they -went away to Buckfastleigh, where they had a house and -a factory. There was a queer matter about the old -squire’s death—did you never hear of that, sir?’</p> - -<p>‘I heard something; but I was very young then.’</p> - -<p>‘My Joseph could tell you all about it better than I.’</p> - -<p>‘Who is your Joseph?’</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir, I’m ashamed to say it, but he’s my sweetheart, -who’s been a-courting of me these fifty years.’</p> - -<p>‘Not married yet?’</p> - -<p>‘He’s a slow man is Joseph. I reckon he’d ‘a’ spoken -out if he’d been able at last, but the paralysis took ‘m in -the legs. He put off and off—and I encouraged him all I -could; but he always was a slow man.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is he now?’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, he’s with his married sister. He sits in a chair, -and when I can I run to ‘m and take him some backy or -barley-sugar. He’s vastly fond o’ sucking sticks o’ barley-sugar. -Gentlefolks as come here sometimes give me a -shilling, and I lay that out on getting Joseph what he -likes. He always had a sweet tooth.’</p> - -<p>‘Then you love him still?’</p> - -<p>The old woman looked at me with surprise. Her hand -and head shook.</p> - -<p>‘Of course I does: love is eternal—every fool knows -that.’</p> - - -<p class="pc4 lmid">THE END.</p> - - -<p class="pc4 reduct">PRINTED BY<br /> -SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE<br /> -LONDON</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="199" - alt="" - title="" /> -</div> - -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span></p> -<p> </p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="bord"> -<h2 class="mid">ALPHABETICAL CATALOGUE OF BOOKS<br /> -<span class="small">IN</span><br /> -GENERAL LITERATURE AND FICTION<br /> -<span class="small">PUBLISHED BY</span><br /> -<span class="mid"><span class="smcap">Chatto & Windus</span></span><br /> -111 <span class="smcap">St. Martin’s Lane, Charing Cross</span></h2> - -<table id="ta1" summary="ta1"> - - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><i>Telegrams<br />Bookstore, London</i></td> - <td class="tdc2"><span class="smcap">London, W.C.</span></td> - <td class="tdc"><i>Telephone No.</i><br />3524 <i>Central</i></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -</div> - -<p class="pa1"><b>ADAMS (W. 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With 50 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Chris -Hammond</span>, &c.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Art of Fiction.</b> Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>BIBLIOTHECA ROMANICA</b>: A -series of the Classics of the Romance -(French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese) -Languages; the Original Text, -with, where necessary, Notes and Introductions -in the language of the Text. -Small 8vo, single parts, 8<i>d.</i> net per -vol.; cloth, single parts, 1<i>s.</i> net per vol.</p> - -<p class="pa1">Where two or more units are bound in one -volume (indicated by numbers against -the title) the price in wrapper remains 8<i>d.</i> -per unit, <i>i.e.</i>, two numbers cost 1<i>s.</i> 4<i>d.</i>; -three cost 2<i>s.</i>; four cost 2<i>s.</i> 8<i>d.</i> In the -cloth binding the additional cost is 4<i>d.</i> -for the first, and 1<i>d.</i> for each succeeding -unit: <i>i.e.</i>, one unit costs 1<i>s.</i>; two cost -1<i>s.</i> 9<i>d.</i>; three cost 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; four cost 3<i>s.</i> 3<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2">1. <b>Molière</b>: Le Misanthrope.</p> -<p class="pa2">2. <b>Molière</b>: Les Femmes savantes.</p> -<p class="pa2">3. <b>Corneille</b>: Le Cid.</p> -<p class="pa2">4. <b>Descartes</b>: Discours de la méthode.</p> -<p class="pa2">5-6. <b>Dante</b>: Divina Commedia I.: -Inferno.</p> -<p class="pa2">7. <b>Boccaccio</b>: Decameron: Prima -giornata.</p> -<p class="pa2">8. <b>Calderon</b>: La vida es sueño.</p> -<p class="pa2">9. <b>Restif de la Bretonne</b>: L’an -2000.</p> -<p class="pa2">10. <b>Camões</b>: Os Lusíadas: Canto I., II.</p> -<p class="pa2">11. <b>Racine</b>: Athalie.</p> -<p class="pa2">12-15. <b>Petrarca</b>: Rerum vulgarium -fragmenta.</p> -<p class="pa2">16-17. <b>Dante</b>: Divina Commedia II.: -Purgatorio.</p> -<p class="pa2">18-20. <b>Tillier</b>: Mon oncle Benjamin.</p> -<p class="pa2">21-22. <b>Boccaccio</b>: Decameron: Seconda -giornata.</p> -<p class="pa2">23-24. <b>Beaumarchais</b>: Le Barbier de -Seville.</p> -<p class="pa2">25. <b>Camões</b>: Os Lusíadas: Canto III., -IV.</p> -<p class="pa2">26-28. <b>Alfred de Musset</b>: Comédies et -Proverbes: La Nuit vénitienne; -André del Sarto; Les Caprices de -Marianne; Fantasio; On ne badine -pas avec l’amour.</p> -<p class="pa2">29. <b>Corneille</b>: Horace.</p> -<p class="pa2">30-31. <b>Dante</b>: Divina Commedia III.: -Paradiso.</p> -<p class="pa2">32-34. <b>Prevost</b>: Manon Lescaut.</p> -<p class="pa2">35-36. <b>Œuvres de Maître François -Villon.</b></p> -<p class="pa2">37-39. <b>Guillem de Castro</b>: Las Mocedades -del Cid, I., II.</p> -<p class="pa2">40. <b>Dante</b>: La Vita Nuova.</p> -<p class="pa2">41-44. <b>Cervantes</b>: Cinco Novelas ejemplares.</p> -<p class="pa2">45. <b>Camões</b>: Os Lusíadas: Canto V., -VI., VII.</p> -<p class="pa2">46. <b>Molière</b>: L’Avare.</p> -<p class="pa2">47. <b>Petrarca</b>: I Trionfi.</p> -<p class="pa2">48-49. <b>Boccaccio</b>: Decameron: Terza -giornata.</p> -<p class="pa2">50. <b>Corneille</b>: Cinna.</p> -<p class="pa2">51-52 <b>Camões</b>: Os Lusíadas: Canto VIII., -IX., X.</p> -<p class="pa2">53-54 <b>La Chanson de Roland.</b></p> -<p class="pa2">55-58 <b>Alfred de Musset</b>: Premières -Poésies.</p> -<p class="pa2">59. <b>Boccaccio</b>: Decameron: Quarta -giornata.</p> -<p class="pa2">60-61. <b>Maistre Pierre Pathelin</b>: -Farce du XV<sup>e</sup> siècle.</p> -<p class="pa2">62-63. <b>Giacomo Leopardi</b>: Canti.</p> -<p class="pa2">64-65. <b>Chateaubriand</b>: Atala.</p> -<p class="pa2">66. <b>Boccaccio</b>: Decameron, Quinta -giornata.</p> -<p class="pa2">67-70. <b>Blaise Pascal</b>: Les Provinciales</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p><b>BIERCE (AMBROSE).</b>—<b>In the -Midst of Life.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i>; Cheap -Edition, picture cover, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>BINDLOSS (HAROLD), Novels by.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Concession-Hunters.</b><br /> -<b>The Mistress of Bonaventure.</b><br /> -<b>Daventry’s Daughter.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Sower of Wheat.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Ainslie’s Ju-ju.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, -3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; picture cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>BLAKE (WILLIAM)</b>: <b>A Critical -Stud</b>y by <span class="smcap">A. 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Crown -8vo, 1<i>s.</i> net; cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>COMPTON (HERBERT), Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Inimitable Mrs. Massingham.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; <span class="smcap">Popular -Edition</span>, medium 8vo, 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Wilful Way.</b><br /> -<b>The Queen can do no Wrong.</b><br /> -<b>To Defeat the Ends of Justice.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>COOPER (E. H.), Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Geoffory Hamilton.</b><br /> -<b>The Marquis and Pamela.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>CORNISH (J. 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R. -Crockett</span>, <span class="smcap">Gilbert Parker</span>, <span class="smcap">Harold -Frederic</span>, ‘Q.,’ and <span class="smcap">W. Clark Russell</span>. -With 13 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Frank Brangwyn</span>. -Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>CROKER (Mrs. B. 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Pegram</span>.—Also a Cheap Ed., -without Illusts., picture cover, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; post 8vo, -cloth limp, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Infatuation.</b><br /> -<b>Some One Else.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>‘To Let.’</b> Post 8vo, picture boards, 2<i>s.</i>; -cloth limp, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct"><span class="smcap">Popular Editions</span>, medium 8vo. 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Proper Pride.</b><br /> -<b>The Cat’s-paw.</b><br /> -<b>Diana Barrington.</b><br /> -<b>Pretty Miss Neville.</b><br /> -<b>A Bird of Passage.</b><br /> -<b>Beyond the Pale.</b><br /> -<b>A Family Likeness.</b><br /> -<b>Miss Balmaine’s Past.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>CROSS (M. B.).</b>—<b>A Question of -Means.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>CRUIKSHANK’S COMIC ALMANACK.</b> -Complete in <span class="smcap">Two Series</span>. -The <span class="smcap">First</span> from 1835 to 1843; the -<span class="smcap">Second</span>, from 1844 to 1853. A Gathering -of the Best Humour of <span class="smcap">Thackeray</span>, -<span class="smcap">Hood</span>, <span class="smcap">Albert Smith</span>, &c. With numerous -Steel Engravings and Woodcuts -by <span class="smcap">Cruikshank</span>, <span class="smcap">Landells</span>, &c. Two -Vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>CUMMING (C. F. 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Crown 8vo, cloth. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DANBY (FRANK).</b>—<b>A Coquette -in Crape.</b> Foolscap 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DAUDET (ALPHONSE).</b>—<b>The -Evangelist; or, Port Salvation.</b> -Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; post 8vo, bds., 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DAVENANT (FRANCIS).</b>—<b>Hints -for Parents on Choice of Profession -for their Sons.</b> Crown 8vo, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DAVIDSON (H. C.).</b>—<b>Mr. Sadler’s -Daughters.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DAVIES (Dr. N. E. YORKE-), -Works by.</b> Cr. 8vo, 1<i>s.</i> ea.; cl. 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> ea.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>One Thousand Medical Maxims -and Surgical Hints.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Nursery Hints</b>: A Mother’s Guide.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Dietetic Cure of Obesity -(Foods for the Fat).</b> With Chapters -on the Treatment of Gout by Diet.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Aids to Long Life.</b> Crown 8vo, 2<i>s.</i>; -cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Wine and Health</b>: How to enjoy -both. Crown 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DEAKIN (DOROTHEA), Stories -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Poet and the Pierrot.</b><br /> -<b>The Princess & the Kitchen-maid.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DEFOE (DANIEL).</b>—<b>Robinson -Crusoe.</b> With 37 Illusts. by <span class="smcap">George -Cruikshank</span>. <span class="smcap">Large Type, Fine Paper -Edition.</span> Pott 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2<i>s.</i> net; -leather, gilt edges, 3<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DE MILLE (JAMES).</b>—<b>A Strange -Manuscript found in a Copper -Cylinder.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, with 19 -Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gilbert Gaul</span>, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DEVONSHIRE SCENERY, The -History of.</b> By <span class="smcap">Arthur W. Clayden</span>, -M.A. With Illus. Demy 8vo, cl., 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Devon: Its Moorlands, Streams, -and Coasts.</b> By Lady <span class="smcap">Rosalind -Northcote</span>. With Illustrations in Three -Colours by <span class="smcap">F. J. Widgery</span>. Large fcap. -4to, cloth, 20<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DEWAR (T. R.).</b>—<b>A Ramble -Round the Globe.</b> With 220 Illustrations. -Crown 8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DICKENS (CHARLES), The -Speeches of.</b> Edited and Annotated -by <span class="smcap">R. H. Shepherd</span>. With a Portrait. -Pott 8vo, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> net; leather, 3<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Pocket Charles Dickens</b>: being -Favourite Passages chosen by <span class="smcap">Alfred -H. Hyatt</span>. 16mo, cloth, gilt top, 2<i>s.</i> net; -leather, gilt top, 3<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DICTIONARIES.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Reader’s Handbook of -Famous Names in Fiction, -Allusions, References, Proverbs, -Plots, Stories, and Poems.</b> -By Rev. <span class="smcap">E. C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. Crown -8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Dictionary of Miracles</b>, -Imitative, Realistic, and Dogmatic. By -Rev. <span class="smcap">E. C. Brewer</span>, LL.D. Crown 8vo, -cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Familiar Allusions.</b> By <span class="smcap">William A.</span> -and <span class="smcap">Charles G. Wheeler</span>. Demy 8vo, -cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Familiar Short Sayings of Great -Men.</b> With Historical and Explanatory -Notes by <span class="smcap">Samuel A. Bent</span>, A.M. Crown -8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Slang Dictionary</b>: Etymological, -Historical, and Anecdotal. Crown 8vo, -cloth, 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Words, Facts, and Phrases</b>: A -Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out-of-the-Way -Matters. By <span class="smcap">Eliezer -Edwards</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DIXON (WILLMOTT).—Novels -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Rogue of Rye.</b><br /> -<b>King Hal—of Heronsea.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DOBSON (AUSTIN), Works by.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, buckram, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Four Frenchwomen.</b> With Four -Portraits.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Eighteenth Century Vignettes.</b> -In Three Series, each 6<i>s.</i>; also <span class="smcap">Fine-paper -Editions</span> of the <span class="smcap">Three Series</span>, -pott 8vo, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> net each; leather, -3<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Paladin of Philanthropy, and -other Papers.</b> With 2 Illustrations.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Side-walk Studies.</b> With 5 Illusts.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DONOVAN (DICK), Detective -Stories by.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated -boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Caught at Last.</b><br /> -<b>In the Grip of the Law.</b><br /> -<b>Link by Link.</b><br /> -<b>From Information Received.</b><br /> -<b>Suspicion Aroused.</b><br /> -<b>Riddles Read.</b><br /> -<b>Chronicles of Michael Danevitch.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2 reduct">Crown 8vo, cl., 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; picture cl., -flat back, 2<i>s.</i> each; post 8vo, illustrated -boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth limp, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Man from Manchester.</b><br /> -<b>The Mystery of Jamaica Terrace.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Deacon Brodie</b>; or, Behind the Mask.<br /> -<b>Tyler Tatlock, Private Detective.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Cr. 8vo, cl., 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> ea.; pict. cl., flat bk. 2<i>s.</i> ea.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Records of Vincent Trill.</b><br /> -<b>Tales of Terror.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2 reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; post 8vo, -illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth limp, -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Tracked to Doom.</b><br /> -<b>A Detective’s Triumphs.</b><br /> -<b>Tracked and Taken.</b><br /> -<b>Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan?</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2 reduct">Crown 8vo, picture cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i> each; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth -limp, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Wanted!</b><br /> -<b>The Man-Hunter.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Dark Deeds.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth limp, -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; picture cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DOWLING (RICHARD).</b>-<b>-Old -Corcoran’s Money.</b> Cr. 8vo, cl., 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DOYLE (A. CONAN).</b>—<b>The Firm -of Girdlestone.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DRAMATISTS, THE OLD.</b> -Edited by Col. <span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Cr. 8vo, -cloth, with Portraits. 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per Vol.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Ben Jonson’s Works.</b> With Notes, -Critical and Explanatory, and a Biographical -Memoir by <span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. -Three Vols.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Chapman’s Works.</b> Three Vols. Vol. -I. contains the Plays complete; Vol. II., -Poems and Minor Translations, with an -Essay by <span class="smcap">A. C. Swinburne</span>; Vol. III., -Translations of the Iliad and Odyssey.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Marlowe’s Works.</b> One Vol.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Massinger’s Plays.</b> From <span class="smcap">Gifford’s</span> -Text. One Vol.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DUMPY BOOKS (The) for -Children.</b> Roy. 32mo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> net ea.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>1.</b> <b>The Flamp, The Ameliorator, -and The School-boy’s Apprentice.</b> -By <span class="smcap">E. V. Lucas</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>2.</b> <b>Mrs. Turner’s Cautionary -Stories.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>3.</b> <b>The Bad Family.</b> By Mrs. -<span class="smcap">Fenwick</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>4.</b> <b>The Story of Little Black -Sambo.</b> By <span class="smcap">Helen Bannerman</span>. -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>5.</b> <b>The Bountiful Lady.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas -Cobb</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>7.</b> <b>A Flower Book.</b> Illustrated in -colours by <span class="smcap">Nellie Benson</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>8.</b> <b>The Pink Knight.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. R. Monsell</span>. -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>9.</b> <b>The Little Clown.</b> By <span class="smcap">Thomas -Cobb</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>10.</b> <b>A Horse Book.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary Tourtel</span>. -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>11.</b> <b>Little People</b>: an Alphabet. By -<span class="smcap">Henry Mayer</span> and <span class="smcap">T. W. H. Crosland</span>. -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>12.</b> <b>A Dog Book.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ethel Bicknell</span>. -With Pictures in colours by <span class="smcap">Carton -Moore Park</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>13.</b> <b>The Adventures of Samuel -and Selina.</b> By <span class="smcap">Jean C. Archer</span>. -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>14.</b> <b>The Little Girl Lost.</b> By <span class="smcap">Eleanor -Raper</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>15.</b> <b>Dollies.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard Hunter</span>. -Illustrated in colours by <span class="smcap">Ruth Cobb</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>16.</b> <b>The Bad Mrs. Ginger.</b> By <span class="smcap">Honor -C. Appleton</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>17.</b> <b>Peter Piper’s Practical Principles.</b> -Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>18.</b> <b>Little White Barbara.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Eleanor March</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>20.</b> <b>Towlocks and his Wooden -Horse.</b> By <span class="smcap">Alice M. Appleton</span>. -Illus. in colours by <span class="smcap">Honor C. Appleton</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>21.</b> <b>Three Little Foxes.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary -Tourtel</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>22.</b> <b>The Old Man’s Bag.</b> By <span class="smcap">T. W. -H. Crosland</span>. Illus. by <span class="smcap">J. R. Monsell</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>23.</b> <b>Three Little Goblins.</b> By <span class="smcap">M. -G. Taggart</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>25.</b> <b>More Dollies.</b> By <span class="smcap">Richard Hunter</span>. -Illus. in colours by <span class="smcap">Ruth Cobb</span>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[10]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>26.</b> <b>Little Yellow Wang-lo.</b> By <span class="smcap">M. -C. Bell</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>28.</b> <b>The Sooty Man.</b> By <span class="smcap">E. B. -Mackinnon</span> and <span class="smcap">Eden Coybee</span>. Illus.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>30.</b> <b>Rosalina.</b> Illustrated in colours by -<span class="smcap">Jean C. Archer</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>31.</b> <b>Sammy and the Snarlywink.</b> -Illustrated in colours by <span class="smcap">Lena</span> and <span class="smcap">Norman -Ault</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>33.</b> <b>Irene’s Christmas Party.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Richard Hunter</span>. Illus.. by <span class="smcap">Ruth Cobb</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>34.</b> <b>The Little Soldier Book.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Jessie Pope</span>. Illustrated in colours by -<span class="smcap">Henry Mayer</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>35.</b> <b>The Dutch Doll’s Ditties.</b> By -<span class="smcap">C. Aubrey Moore</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>36.</b> <b>Ten Little Nigger Boys.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Nora Case</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>37.</b> <b>Humpty Dumpty’s Little Son.</b> -By <span class="smcap">Helen R. Cross</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>38.</b> <b>Simple Simon.</b> By <span class="smcap">Helen R. -Cross</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>39.</b> <b>The Little Frenchman.</b> By -<span class="smcap">Eden Coybee</span>. Illustrated in colours by -<span class="smcap">K. J. Fricero</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>40.</b> <b>The Potato Book.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lily -Schofield</span>. Illustrated in colours.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DUNCAN (SARA JEANNETTE), -Books by.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Social Departure.</b> With 111 -Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>An American Girl in London.</b> -With 80 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">F. H. Townsend</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Simple Adventures of a -Memsahib.</b> With 37 Illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>A Daughter of To-Day.</b><br /> -<b>Vernon’s Aunt.</b> With 47 Illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DUTT (ROMESH C.).</b>—<b>England -and India</b>: Progress during One -Hundred Years. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>DYSON (EDWARD).</b>—<b>In the -Roaring Fifties.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EDWARDES (Mrs. ANNIE), -Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Point of Honour.</b> Post 8vo, -illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Archie Lovell.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, -3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Plaster Saint.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EDWARDS (ELIEZER).</b>—<b>Words, -Facts, and Phrases</b>: A Dictionary -of Curious, Quaint, and Out-of-the-Way -Matters. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EGERTON (Rev. J. C.).</b>—<b>Sussex -Folk and Sussex Ways.</b> -With Four Illusts. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EGGLESTON (EDWARD).</b>—<b>Roxy.</b> -Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>ENGLISHMAN (An) in Paris</b>: -Recollections of <span class="smcap">Louis Philippe</span> and the -Empire. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EPISTOLÆ OBSCURORUM -Virorum (1515-1517).</b> Latin Text, -with Translation, Introduction, Notes, -&c., by <span class="smcap">F. G. Stokes</span>. Royal 8vo, buckram, -25<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EVERYMAN: A Morality.</b> -Printed on pure rag paper, with Illustrations -by <span class="smcap">Ambrose Dudley</span>. Fcap. -4to, decorated cloth, red top, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>EYES, Our</b>: How to Preserve -Them. By <span class="smcap">John Browning</span>. Crown -8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FAIRY TALES FROM -TUSCANY.</b> By <span class="smcap">Isabella M. Anderton</span>. -Square 16mo, cloth, with Frontispiece, -1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FAMILIAR ALLUSIONS</b>: Miscellaneous -Information, including Celebrated -Statues, Paintings, Palaces, -Country Seats, Ruins, Churches, Ships, -Streets, Clubs, Natural Curiosities, &c. -By W. A. and <span class="smcap">C. G. Wheeler</span>. Demy -8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FAMILIAR SHORT SAYINGS -of Great Men.</b> By <span class="smcap">S. A. Bent</span>, <span class="smcap">A.M.</span> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FARADAY (MICHAEL), Works -by.</b> Post 8vo, cloth, 4<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Chemical History of a -Candle</b>: Lectures delivered before a -Juvenile Audience. Edited by <span class="smcap">William -Crookes</span>, F.C.S. With numerous Illusts.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>On the Various Forces of Nature, -and their Relations to each -other.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">William Crookes</span>, -F.C.S. With Illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FARRAR (F. W., D. D.).</b>—<b>Ruskin -as a Religious Teacher.</b> Square -16mo, cloth, with Frontispiece, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FARRER (J. ANSON).</b>—<b>War</b>: -Three Essays. Crown 8vo. cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FENN (G. MANVILLE), Novels -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The New Mistress.</b><br /> -<b>Witness to the Deed.</b><br /> -<b>The Tiger Lily.</b><br /> -<b>The White Virgin.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo. cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>A Woman Worth Winning.</b><br /> -<b>Cursed by a Fortune.</b><br /> -<b>The Case of Alisa Gray.</b><br /> -<b>Commodore Junk.</b><br /> -<b>Black Blood.</b><br /> -<b>In Jeopardy.</b><br /> -<b>Double Cunning.</b><br /> -<b>A Fluttered Dovecote.</b><br /> -<b>King of the Castle.</b><br /> -<b>The Master of the Ceremonies.</b><br /> -<b>The Story of Antony Grace.</b><br /> -<b>The Man with a Shadow.</b><br /> -<b>One Maid’s Mischief.</b><br /> -<b>This Man’s Wife.</b><br /> -<b>The Bag of Diamonds, and Three Bits of Paste.</b><br /> -<b>Running Amok.</b><br /> -<b>Black Shadows.</b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[11]</a></span><br /> -<b>The Cankerworm.</b><br /> -<b>So Like a Woman.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Crimson Crime.</b> <span class="reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, -3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; picture cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i></span></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FICTION, a Catalogue of</b>, with -Descriptions and Reviews of nearly -<span class="smcap">Twelve Hundred Novels</span>, will be -sent free by <span class="smcap">Chatto & Windus</span> upon -application.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FIREWORK-MAKING, The -Complete Art of</b>; or, The Pyrotechnist’s -Treasury. By <span class="smcap">Thomas Kentish</span>. With -267 Illustrations. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FISHER (ARTHUR O.), Novels -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Withyford.</b> With Coloured Frontispiece -by <span class="smcap">G. D. Armour</span>, and 5 Plates in -sepia by <span class="smcap">R. H. Buxton</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Land of Silent Feet.</b> With a -Frontispiece by <span class="smcap">G. D. Armour</span>.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p><b>FITZGERALD (PERCY), by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa1"><b>Fatal Zero.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Bella Donna.</b><br /> -<b>Polly.</b><br /> -<b>The Lady of Brantome.</b><br /> -<b>Never Forgotten.</b><br /> -<b>The Second Mrs. Tillotson.</b><br /> -<b>Seventy-five Brooke Street.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FLAMMARION (CAMILLE).</b>—<b>Popular -Astronomy.</b> Translated -by <span class="smcap">J. Ellard Gore</span>, F.R.A.S. With Three -Plates and 288 Illustrations. A <span class="smcap">New -Edition</span>, with an Appendix giving the -results of Recent Discoveries. Medium -8vo, cloth, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FLORENCE PRESS BOOKS.</b>—For -information as to this important -Series, printed from a new type designed -by <span class="smcap">Herbert P. Horne</span>, now first -engraved, see special Prospectus.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FORBES (Hon. Mrs. WALTER).</b>—<b>Dumb.</b> -Crown 8vo cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FRANCILLON (R. E.), Novels -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; post -8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>One by One.</b><br /> -<b>A Real Queen.</b><br /> -<b>A Dog and his Shadow.</b><br /> -<b>Ropes of Sand.</b> With Illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Post 8vo, Illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"> -<b>Romances of the Law.</b><br /> -<b>King or Knave?</b><br /> -<b>Olympia.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Jack Doyle’s Daughter.</b> Crown 8vo, -cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FRANCO-BRITISH EXHIBITION -Illustrated Review (The), -1908.</b> A Complete Souvenir of the Exhibition. -Profusely illustrated. Edited -by <span class="smcap">F. G. Dumas</span>. Large folio, pictorial -cover, 6<i>s.</i> net; cloth, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net. Also -the <span class="smcap">Edition de Luxe</span>, printed on fine-art -paper and in a special binding, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FREDERIC (HAROLD), Novels -by.</b> Post 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; -illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Seth’s Brother’s Wife.</b><br /> -<b>The Lawton Girl.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FREEMAN (R. AUSTIN).</b>—<b>John -Thorndyke’s Cases.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">H. -M. Brock</span>, and from Photographs. -Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>FRY’S (HERBERT) Royal -Guide to the London Charities.</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">John Lane</span>. Published -Annually. Crown 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GARDENING BOOKS.</b> Post 8vo, -1<i>s.</i> each; cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Year’s Work in Garden and -Greenhouse.</b> By <span class="smcap">George Glenny</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Household Horticulture.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom</span> -and <span class="smcap">Jane Jerrold</span>. Illustrated.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b> -By <span class="smcap">Tom Jerrold</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Our Kitchen Garden.</b> By <span class="smcap">Tom -Jerrold</span>. Post 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Sir William Temple upon the -Gardens of Epicurus</b>; together -with other XVIIth Century Garden -Essays. Edited with Notes and Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">A. Forbes Sieveking</span>, F.S.A. -With 6 Illustrations. Small 8vo, cloth -or boards, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net; quarter vellum, -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net; three-quarter vellum, 5<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GAULOT (PAUL), Books by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Red Shirts</b>: A Tale of ‘The -Terror.’ Translated by <span class="smcap">John de Villiers</span>. -Crown 8vo, cloth, with Frontispiece -by <span class="smcap">Stanley Wood</span>, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; picture -cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Love and Lovers of the Past.</b> -Translated by <span class="smcap">C. Laroche</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Conspiracy under the Terror.</b> -Translated by <span class="smcap">C. Laroche</span>, M.A. With -Illustrations and Facsimiles.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GERMAN POPULAR STORIES.</b> -Collected by the Brothers <span class="smcap">Grimm</span> and -Translated by <span class="smcap">Edgar Taylor</span>. With -Introduction by <span class="smcap">John Ruskin</span>, and 22 -Steel Plates after <span class="smcap">George Cruikshank</span>, -Square 8vo, cloth gilt, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GIBBON (CHARLES), Novels -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; -post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Robin Gray.</b><br /> -<b>The Golden Shaft.</b><br /> -<b>The Flower of the Forest.</b><br /> -<b>The Braes of Yarrow.</b><br /> -<b>Of High Degree.</b><br /> -<b>Queen of the Meadow.</b><br /> -<b>For Lack of Gold.</b><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[12]</a></span><br /> -<b>What Will the World Say?</b><br /> -<b>For the King.</b><br /> -<b>A Hard Knot.</b><br /> -<b>In Pastures Green.</b><br /> -<b>In Love and War.</b><br /> -<b>A Heart’s Problem.</b><br /> -<b>By Mead and Stream.</b><br /> -<b>Fancy Free.</b><br /> -<b>Loving a Dream.</b><br /> -<b>In Honour Bound.</b><br /> -<b>Heart’s Delight.</b><br /> -<b>Blood-Money.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Dead Heart.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated -boards, 2<i>s.</i>; <span class="smcap">Popular Edition</span>, medium -8vo, 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GERARD (DOROTHEA).</b>—<b>A -Queen of Curds and Cream.</b> Crown -8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GIBNEY (SOMERVILLE).</b>—<b>Sentenced!</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GIBSON (L. S.), Novels by.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Freemasons.</b><br /> -<b>Burnt Spices.</b><br /> -<b>Ships of Desire.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Freemasons.</b> Cheap Edition, -picture cover, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GILBERT (WILLIAM).</b>—<b>James -Duke, Costermonger.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated -boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>GILBERT’S (W. S.) Original -Plays.</b> In 3 Series. <span class="smcap">Fine-Paper Edition</span>, -Post 8vo, cloth, gilt top, 2<i>s.</i> net each; -leather, gilt edges, 3<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pa2">The <span class="smcap">First Series</span> contains: The Wicked -World—Pygmalion and Galatea—Charity—The -Princess—The Palace of -Truth—Trial by Jury—Iolanthe.</p> - -<p class="pa2">The <span class="smcap">Second Series</span> contains: Broken -Hearts—Engaged—Sweethearts—Gretchen—Dan’l -Druce—Tom Cobb—H.M.S. -‘Pinafore’—The Sorcerer—The -Pirates of Penzance.</p> - -<p class="pa2">The <span class="smcap">Third Series</span> contains: Comedy and -Tragedy—Foggerty’s Fairy—Rosencrantz -and Guildenstern—Patience—Princess -Ida—The Mikado—Ruddigore—The -Yeomen of the Guard—The Gondoliers—The -Mountebanks—Utopia.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Eight Original Comic Operas</b> -written by <span class="smcap">W. S. Gilbert</span>. Two Series, -demy 8vo, cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pa2">The <span class="smcap">First Series</span> contains: The Sorcerer—H.M.S. -‘Pinafore’—The Pirates of -Penzance—Iolanthe—Patience—Princess -Ida—The Mikado—Trial by Jury.</p> - -<p class="pa2">The <span class="smcap">Second Series</span> contains: The Gondoliers—The -Grand Duke—The Yeomen -of the Guard—His Excellency—Utopia, -Limited—Ruddigore—The Mountebanks—Haste -to the Wedding.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Gilbert and Sullivan Birthday -Book</b>: Quotations for Every Day -in the Year. Compiled by <span class="smcap">A. 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Cr. 8vo, cl., 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JEROME (JEROME K.).</b>—<b>Stageland.</b> -With 64 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. Bernard -Partridge</span>. Fcap. 4to, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JERROLD (TOM), Works by.</b></p> - -<p>Post 8vo, 1<i>s.</i> each; cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Garden that Paid the Rent.</b><br /> -<b>Household Horticulture.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Our Kitchen Garden</b>: The Plants We -Grow, and How We Cook Them. Post -8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[16]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JOHNSTON (R.).</b>—<b>The Peril of -an Empire.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JONES (WILLIAM, F.S.A.).</b>—<b>Finger-Ring -Lore</b>: Historical, Legendary, -and Anecdotal. With numerous -Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JONSON’S (BEN) Works.</b> With -Notes and Biographical Memoir by -<span class="smcap">William Gifford</span>. Edited by Colonel -<span class="smcap">Cunningham</span>. Three Vols., crown 8vo, -cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>JOSEPHUS, The Complete -Works of.</b> Translated by <span class="smcap">William -Whiston</span>. Containing ‘The Antiquities -of the Jews,’ and ‘The Wars of the Jews.’ -With 52 Illustrations and Maps. Two -Vols., demy 8vo, half-cloth, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KEATING (JOSEPH).</b>—<b>Maurice.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KEMPLING (W. BAILEY).</b>—<b>The -Poets Royal of England and Scotland</b>: -Original Poems by Royal and -Noble Persons. With Notes and 6 Photogravure -Portraits. Small 8vo, parchment, -6<i>s.</i> net; vellum, 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net. Also an -Edition in <span class="smcap">The King’s Classics</span> (No. 39).</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KERSHAW (MARK).</b>—<b>Colonial -Facts and Fictions: Humorous -Sketches.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated boards. -2<i>s.</i>; cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KING (LEONARD W., M.A.).</b>—<b>A -History of Babylonia and Assyria -from the Earliest Times until the -Persian Conquest.</b> With Maps, -Plans, and Illustrations after all the -principal Monuments of the Period. In -3 volumes, royal 8vo, buckram. Each -volume separately, 18<i>s.</i> net; or per set of -3 volumes, if subscribed for before the -issue of Vol. I., £2 10<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<table id="ta3" summary="ta3"> - - <tr> - <td class="tac">Vol.</td> - <td class="tar">I.</td> - <td class="taj">—<b>A History of Sumer and -Akkad</b>: An account of the Primitive -Inhabitants of Babylonia from -the Earliest Times to about B.C. 2000.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tac">”</td> - <td class="tar">II.</td> - <td class="taj">—<b>A History of Babylon</b> from -the First Dynasty, about B.C. 2000, -until the Conquest by Cyrus, B.C. 539.</td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tac">”</td> - <td class="tar">III.</td> - <td class="taj">—<b>A History of Assyria</b> from -the Earliest Period until the Fall of -Nineveh, B.C. 606.</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p class="pr reduct">[<i>Preparing</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KING (R. ASHE), Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>‘The Wearing of the Green.’</b><br /> -<b>Passion’s Slave.</b><br /> -<b>Bell Barry.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Drawn Game.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth. -3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KINGS AND QUEENS OF ENGLAND.</b> -By <span class="smcap">E. G. Ritchie</span> and <span class="smcap">Basil -Procter</span>. With 43 Illustrations. Small -demy 8vo, 1<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>KING’S CLASSICS (The).</b> -General Editor, Professor <span class="smcap">I. Gollancz</span>, -Litt.D. Printed on laid paper, 16mo, -each with Frontispiece, gilt top. Quarter -bound grey boards or red cloth, -1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net each; quarter vellum, cloth -sides, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net each; three-quarter -vellum, 5<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct"><i>Volumes now in course of publication</i>:</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>35.</b> <b>Wine, Women, and Song</b>: -Mediæval Latin Students’ Songs. Translated -into English, with an Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">John Addington Symonds</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>36</b>, <b>37</b>. <b>George Pettie’s Petite Pallace -of Pettie his Pleasure.</b> -Edited by Prof. <span class="smcap">I Gollancz</span>. 2 vols.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>38.</b> <b>Walpole’s Castle of Otranto.</b> -By Sir <span class="smcap">Walter Scott</span>. With Introduction -and Preface by Miss <span class="smcap">Spurgeon</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>39.</b> <b>The Poets Royal of England -and Scotland.</b> Original Poems by -Kings and other Royal and Noble -Persons, collected and edited by <span class="smcap">W. -Bailey Kempling</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>40.</b> <b>Sir Thomas More’s Utopia.</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">Robert Steele</span>, F.S.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>41.</b><a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a><b>Chaucer’s Legend of Good -Women.</b> <i>In Modern English</i>, with -Notes and Introduction by Professor -<span class="smcap">W. W. Skeat</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>42.</b> <b>Swift’s Battle of the Books.</b> -Edited, with Notes and Introduction, by -<span class="smcap">A. Guthkelch</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>43.</b> <b>Sir William Temple upon the -Gardens of Epicurus, with -other 17th Century Garden -Essays.</b> Edited, with Notes and Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">A. Forbes Sieveking</span>, F.S.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>44.</b> <b>The Four Last Things</b>, by Sir -<span class="smcap">Thomas More</span>; together with <b>A -Spiritual Consolation and -other Treatises</b> by <span class="smcap">John Fisher</span>, -Bishop of Rochester. Edited by <span class="smcap">Daniel -O’Connor</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>45.</b> <b>The Song of Roland.</b> Translated -from the old French by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Crosland</span>, -With Introduction by Prof. <span class="smcap">Brandin</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>46.</b> <b>Dante’s Vita Nuova.</b> The -Italian text, with <span class="smcap">Dante G. Rossetti’s</span> -translation on opposite page. With Introduction -and Notes by Prof. <span class="smcap">H. Oelsner</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>47.</b><a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><b>Chaucer’s Prologue and -Minor Poems.</b> <i>In modern English</i>, -with Notes and Introduction by Prof. -<span class="smcap">W. W. Skeat</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>48.</b><a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><b>Chaucer’s Parliament of -Birds and House of Fame.</b> <i>In -modern English</i>, with Notes and introduction -by Prof. <span class="smcap">W. W. Skeat</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>49.</b> <b>Mrs. Gaskell’s Cranford.</b> With -Introduction by <span class="smcap">R. Brimley Johnson</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>50.</b><a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a><b>Pearl.</b> An English Poem of the -Fourteenth Century. Edited, with a -Modern Rendering and an Introduction, -by Professor <span class="smcap">I. Gollancz</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>51</b>, <b>52</b>. <b>King’s Letters.</b> Volumes III. -and IV. Newly edited from the originals -by <span class="smcap">Robert Steele</span>, F.S.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>53.</b> <b>The English Correspondence -of Saint Boniface.</b> Translated and -edited, with an Introductory Sketch of the -Life of St. Boniface, by <span class="smcap">E. J. Kylie</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>56.</b> <b>The Cavalier to his Lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[17]</a></span></b>: -Seventeenth Century Love songs. -Edited by <span class="smcap">F. Sidgwick</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>57.</b> <b>Asser’s Life of King Alfred.</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">L. C. Jane</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>58.</b> <b>Translations from the Icelandic.</b> -By Rev. <span class="smcap">W. C. Green</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>59.</b> <b>The Rule of St. Benet.</b> Translated -by Right Rev. <span class="smcap">Abbot Gasquet</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>60.</b> <b>Daniel’s ‘Delia’ and Drayton’s -‘Idea.’</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">Arundell Esdaile</span>, -M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>61.</b> <b>The Book of the Duke of -True Lovers.</b> A Romance of the -Court, by <span class="smcap">Christine de Pisan</span>, -translated, with Notes and Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">Alice Kemp-Welch</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>62.</b> <b>Of the Tumbler of Our Lady, -and other Miracles.</b> Translated, -from the Middle French MSS., with -Notes and Introduction, by <span class="smcap">Alice -Kemp-Welch</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>63.</b> <b>The Chatelaine of Vergi.</b> A -Romance of the Court, translated from -the Middle French, by <span class="smcap">Alice Kemp-Welch</span>, -with Introduction by <span class="smcap">L. -Brandin</span>, Ph.D., and with the original -Text. Edition Raynaud.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>64.</b> <b>Troubadour Poems.</b> Edited by -<span class="smcap">Barbara Smythe</span>.</p> - -<p><b>65.</b> <b>An Anthology of French -Verse.</b> Selected by <span class="smcap">C. B. Lewis</span>.</p> - -<div class="reduct"> - -<p class="pc"><i>Earlier Volumes in the Series are</i>—</p> - -<p class="pa2">1. The Love of Books (The Philobiblon).</p> - -<p class="pa2">2.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>Six Dramas of Calderon (FitzGerald’s -Translation). (Double vol.)</p> - -<p class="pa2">3. Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond.</p> - -<p class="pa2">4. The Life of Sir Thomas More.</p> - -<p class="pa2">5. Eikon Basilike.</p> - -<p class="pa2">6. Kings’ Letters: Alfred to the coming of -the Tudors.</p> - -<p class="pa2">7. Kings’ Letters: From the Tudors to the -Love Letters of Henry VIII.</p> - -<p class="pa2">8.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a>Chaucer’s Knight’s Tale (Prof. <span class="smcap">Skeat</span>).</p> - -<p class="pa2">9.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a>Chaucer’s Man of Law’s Tale (Prof. <span class="smcap">Skeat</span>).</p> - -<p class="pa2">10.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a>Chaucer’s Prioress’s Tale (Prof. <span class="smcap">Skeat</span>).</p> - -<p class="pa2">11. The Romance of Fulke Fitzwarine.</p> - -<p class="pa2">12. The Story of Cupid and Psyche.</p> - -<p class="pa2">13. Evelyn’s Life of Margaret Godolphin.</p> - -<p class="pa2">14. Early Lives of Dante.</p> - -<p class="pa2">15. The Falstaff Letters</p> - -<p class="pa2">16. Polonius. 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Post 8vo, cloth. 5<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>OHNET (GEORGES), Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Doctor Rameau.</b> Post 8vo, illustrated -boards. 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Weird Gift.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; -post 8vo. illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Last Love.</b> Post 8vo, illust. bds., 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[22]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Path of Glory.</b><br /> -<b>Love’s Depths.</b><br /> -<b>The Money-maker.</b><br /> -<b>Tho Woman of Mystery.</b><br /> -<b>The Conqueress.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>OLIPHANT (Mrs.), Novels by.</b> -Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Primrose Path.</b><br /> -<b>The Greatest Heiress In England.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Whiteladies.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, with 12 -Illustrations, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>; post 8vo, bds., 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Sorceress.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>OSBOURNE (LLOYD), Stories -by.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Motormaniacs.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Three Speeds Forward.</b> With -Illustrations.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>O’SHAUGHNESSY (ARTHUR).</b>—<b>Music -& Moonlight.</b> Fcp. 8vo. cl., 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>PAIN (BARRY).</b>—<b>Eliza’s Husband.</b> -Fcap., 8vo, 1<i>s.</i>; cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>PANDURANG HARI; or, -Memoirs of a Hindoo.</b> With Preface -by Sir <span class="smcap">Bartle Frere</span>. Post 8vo, illustrated -boards, 2<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>PARADISE (The) or Garden of -the Holy Fathers</b>: Histories of the -Anchorites, Recluses, Cœnobites, Monks, -and Ascetic Fathers of the Deserts of -Egypt, between about <span class="smcap">a.d.</span> 250 and 400. -Compiled by <span class="smcap">Athanasius</span>, <span class="smcap">Palladius</span>, -<span class="smcap">St. Jerome</span>, and others. Translated -from the Syriac, with an Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">E. A. Wallis Budge</span>, Litt.D. -With 2 Frontispieces, 2 vols. large crown -8vo, buckram, 15<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>PARIS SALON, The Illustrated -Catalogue of the.</b> With about 300 illustrations. -Published annually. 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Hewerdine</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>‘It is Never Too Late to Mend.’</b></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[26]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">By <span class="smcap">Robert Louis Stevenson</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>An Inland Voyage.</b><br /> -<b>Travels with a Donkey.</b><br /> -<b>Memories and Portraits.</b><br /> -<b>Virginibus Puerisque.</b><br /> -<b>Men and Books.</b><br /> -<b>New Arabian Nights.</b><br /> -<b>Across the Plains.</b><br /> -<b>The Merry Men.</b><br /> -<b>Prince Otto.</b><br /> -<b>In the South Seas.</b><br /> -<b>Essays of Travel.</b><br /> -<b>Weir of Hermiston.</b><br /> -<b>Collected Poems.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">By <span class="smcap">H. A. Taine</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>History of English Literature</b>, in -4 Vols. With 32 Portraits.</p> - -<p class="pc reduct">By <span class="smcap">Mark Twain</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Sketches.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">By <span class="smcap">Walton</span> and <span class="smcap">Cotton</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Complete Angler</b>.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SEYMOUR (CYRIL), Novels by.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Magic of To-Morrow.</b><br /> -<b>Comet Chaos.</b></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pc mid"><b>SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY.</b></p> - -<p class="pc"><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></p> - -<p class="pc lmid"><b>THE OLD-SPELLING -SHAKESPEARE.</b></p> - -<p class="pa5">In <span class="smcap">Forty Volumes</span>, demy 8vo, cloth, -2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net per vol.; or Library Edition, -pure rag paper, half-parchment, 5<i>s.</i> net -per vol. In course of publication.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Works of William Shakespeare</b> -with the spelling of the Quarto or the -Folio as the basis of the Text, and all -changes marked in heavy type. Edited, -with brief Introductions and Notes, by <span class="smcap">F. -J. Furnivall</span>, M.A., D. Litt., and <span class="smcap">F. W. -Clarke</span>, M.A. A list of the volumes -already published may be had.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc"><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>THE SHAKESPEARE CLASSICS.</b> -Small crown 8vo, quarter-bound antique -grey boards, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net per vol.; whole -gold-brown velvet persian, 4<i>s.</i> net -per vol.; also 500 special sets on larger -paper, half parchment, gilt tops (to be -subscribed for only in sets), 5<i>s.</i> net per -vol. Each volume with Frontispiece.</p> - -<p class="pa2">1. <b>Lodge’s ‘Rosalynde’: the -original of Shakespeare’s ‘As -You Like It.’</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">W. W. -Greg</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2">2. <b>Greene’s ‘Pandosto,’or ‘Dorastus -and Fawnia’: the original -of Shakespeare’s ‘Winter’s -Tale.’</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">P. G. Thomas</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">3. <b>Brooke’s Poem of ‘Romeus and -Juliet’: the original of Shakespeare’s -‘Romeo and Juliet.’</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">P. A. Daniel</span>. Modernised -and re-edited by <span class="smcap">J. J. Munro</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">4. <b>‘The Troublesome Reign of -King John’: the Play rewritten -by Shakespeare as ‘King John.’</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">F. J. Furnivall</span>, D. Litt.</p> - -<p class="pa2">5, 6. <b>‘The History of Hamlet’</b>: -With other Documents illustrative of -the sources of Shakspeare’s Play, and an -Introductory Study of the <span class="smcap">Legend of -Hamlet</span> by Prof. <span class="smcap">I. Gollancz</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">7. <b>‘The Play of King Leir and His -Three Daughters’: the old play -on the subject of King Lear.</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">Sidney Lee</span>, D. Litt.</p> - -<p class="pa2">8. <b>‘The Taming of a Shrew’</b>: -Being the old play used by Shakespeare -in ‘The Taming of the Shrew.’ Edited -by Professor <span class="smcap">F. S. Boas</span>, M.A.</p> - -<p class="pa2">9. <b>The Source and Analogues of -‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream.’</b> -Edited by <span class="smcap">Frank Sidgwick</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">10. <b>‘The Famous Victories of -Henry V.’</b></p> - -<p class="pa2">11. <b>‘The Menæchmi’: the original -of Shakespeare’s ‘Comedy of -Errors.’</b> Latin text, with the Elizabethan -Translation. Edited by <span class="smcap">W. H. D. -Rouse</span>, Litt. D.</p> - -<p class="pa2">12. <b>‘Promos and Cassandra’: -the source of ‘Measure for -Measure.’</b></p> - -<p class="pa2">13. <b>‘Apolonius and Silla’</b>: the -source of ‘Twelfth Night.’ Edited by -<span class="smcap">Morton Luce</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">14. <b>‘The First Part of the Contention -betwixt the two famous -Houses of York and Lancaster,’</b> -and <b>‘The True Tragedy of -Richard, Duke of York’</b>: the -originals of the second and third parts of -‘King Henry VI.’</p> - -<p class="pa2">15. <b>The Sources of ‘The Tempest.’</b></p> - -<p class="pa2">16. <b>The Sources of ‘Cymbeline.’</b></p> - -<p class="pa2">17. <b>The Sources and Analogues -of ‘The Merchant of Venice.’</b> -Edited by Professor <span class="smcap">I. Gollancz</span>.</p> - -<p class="pa2">18. <b>Romantic Tales</b>: the sources of -‘The Two Gentlemen of Verona,’ ‘Merry -Wives,’ ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ -‘All’s Well that Ends Well.’</p> - -<p class="pa2">19, 20. <b>Shakespeare’s Plutarch</b>: the -sources of ‘Julius Cæsar,’ ‘Antony and -Cleopatra,’ ‘Coriolanus,’ and ‘Timon.’ -Edited by <span class="smcap">C. F. Tucker Brooke</span>, M.A.</p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc"><span class="smcap">Part III.</span></p> - -<p class="pc lmid"><b>THE LAMB SHAKESPEARE -FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.</b></p> - -<p class="pa5">With Illustrations and Music. Based on -<span class="smcap">Mary and Charles Lamb’s Tales from -Shakespeare</span>, an attempt being made -by Professor <span class="smcap">I. Gollancz</span> to insert within -the setting of prose those scenes and -passages from the Plays with which the -young reader should early become acquainted. -The Music arranged by <span class="smcap">T. -Maskell Hardy</span>. Imperial 16mo, cloth, -1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net per vol.; leather, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net per -vol.; Special School Edition, linen, 8<i>d.</i> -net per vol.</p> - -<table id="ta5" summary="ta5"> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">I.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>The Tempest.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">II.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>As You Like It.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">III.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>A Midsummer Night’s Dream.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">IV.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>The Merchant of Venice.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">V.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>The Winter’s Tale.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">VI.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>Twelfth Night.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">VII.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[27]</a></span></td> - <td class="taj"><b>Cymbeline.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">VIII.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>Romeo and Juliet.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">IX.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>Macbeth.</b></td> - </tr> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">X.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>Much Ado About Nothing.</b></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<table id="ta6" summary="ta6"> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">XI.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>A Life of Shakespeare for the -Young.</b></td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<p class="pr reduct">[<i>Preparing.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<table id="ta7" summary="ta7"> - - <tr> - <td class="tar">XII.</td> - <td class="taj"><b>An Evening with Shakespeare</b>: -10 Dramatic Tableaux for -Young People, with Music by <span class="smcap">T. -Maskell Hardy</span>, and Illustrations. -Cloth; 2<i>s.</i> net; leather, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i>, net; -linen, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</td> - </tr> - -</table> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc"><span class="smcap">Part IV.</span></p> - -<p class="pc lmid"><b>SHAKESPEARE’S ENGLAND.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2">A series of volumes illustrative of the life, -thought, and letters of England in the time -of Shakespeare. The first volumes are—</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Robert Laneham’s Letter</b>, describing -part of the Entertainment given to -Queen Elizabeth at Kenilworth Castle in -1575. With Introduction by Dr. <span class="smcap">Furnivall</span>, -and Illustrations. Demy 8vo, -cloth, 5<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Rogues and Vagabonds of -Shakespeare’s Youth</b>: reprints of -Awdeley’s ‘Fraternitye of Vacabondes,’ -Harman’s ‘Caveat for Common Cursetors,’ -Parson Haben’s or Hyberdyne’s ‘Sermon -in Praise of Thieves and Thievery,’ &c. -With many woodcuts. Edited, with Introduction, -by <span class="smcap">Edward Viles</span> and Dr. -<span class="smcap">Furnivall</span>. Demy 8vo, cloth, 5<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Shakespeare’s Holinshed</b>: a reprint -of all the passages in Holinshed’s -‘Chronicle’ of which use was made in -Shakespeare’s Historical Plays, with -Notes. Edited by <span class="smcap">W. G. Boswell -Stone</span>. Royal 8vo, cloth, 10<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Book of Elizabethan Verse.</b> -Edited, with Notes, by <span class="smcap">William -Stanley Braithwaite</span>. With Frontispiece -and Vignette. Small crown 8vo, -cloth, 6<i>s.</i> net; vellum gilt, 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Shakespeare Allusion Book.</b> -Reprints of all references to Shakespeare -and his Works before the close of the 17th -century, collected by Dr. <span class="smcap">Ingleby</span>, Miss -<span class="smcap">L. Toulmin Smith</span>, Dr. <span class="smcap">Furnivall</span>, and -<span class="smcap">J. J. Munro</span>. Two vols., roy. 8vo. 21<i>s.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Harrison’s Description of England.</b> -Part IV. Uniform with Parts -I.-III. as issued by the New Shakespeare -Society. Edited by Dr. <span class="smcap">Furnivall</span>. -With additions by Mrs. <span class="smcap">C. C. Stopes</span>. -(250 copies only.) 17<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Study of Shakespeare.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. C. -Swinburne</span>. Crown 8vo, cloth, 8<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Age of Shakespeare.</b> By <span class="smcap">A. C. -Swinburne</span>. Crown 8vo, buckram, 6<i>s.</i> -net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Shakespeare’s Sweetheart: a -Romance.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sarah H. Sterling</span>. -With 6 Coloured Illustrations by <span class="smcap">C. E. -Peck</span>. Square 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHARP (WILLIAM).</b>—<b>Children -of To-morrow.</b> Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHERARD (R. H.).</b>—<b>Rogues.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHERIDAN’S (RICHARD -BRINSLEY) Complete Works.</b> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHERWOOD (MARGARET).</b>—<b>DAPHNE</b>: -a Pastoral. With Coloured -Frontispiece. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHIEL (M. P.), Novels by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Purple Cloud.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Unto the Third Generation.</b> Cr. 8vo -cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SIGNBOARDS</b>: Their History, including -Famous Taverns and Remarkable -Characters. By <span class="smcap">Jacob Larwood</span> and <span class="smcap">J. -C. Hotten</span>. With 95 Illustrations. Crown -8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SIMS (GEORGE R.), Books by.</b></p> - -<p class="pc reduct">Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth -limp, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Ring o’ Bells.</b><br /> -<b>Tinkletop’s Crime.</b><br /> -<b>Zeph.</b><br /> -<b>Dramas of Life.</b> With 60 Illustrations.<br /> -<b>My Two Wives.</b><br /> -<b>Tales of To-day.</b><br /> -<b>Memoirs of a Landlady.</b><br /> -<b>Scenes from the Show.</b><br /> -<b>The Ten Commandments.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, picture cover, 1<i>s.</i> each; cloth, -1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Dagonet Reciter and Reader.</b><br /> -<b>The Case of George Candlemas.</b><br /> -<b>Dagonet Ditties.</b><br /> -<b>Life We Live.</b><br /> -<b>Young Mrs. Caudle.</b><br /> -<b>Li Ting of London.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each; post 8vo, -picture boards, 2<i>s.</i> each; cloth, 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Mary Jane’s Memoirs.</b><br /> -<b>Mary Jane Married.</b><br /> -<b>Dagonet Abroad.</b><br /> -<b>Rogues and Vagabonds.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>For Life—and After.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Once upon a Christmas Time.</b> -With 8 Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Chas. Green</span>, R.I.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>In London’s Heart.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>A Blind Marriage.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Without the Limelight.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Small-part Lady.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Biographs of Babylon.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>His Wife’s Revenge.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>The Mystery of Mary Anne.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Picture cloth, flat back, 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Rogues and Vagabonds.</b><br /> -<b>In London’s Heart.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct"><span class="smcap">Popular Editions</span>, medium 8vo, 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Mary Jane’s Memoirs.</b><br /> -<b>Mary Jane Married.</b><br /> -<b>Rogues and Vagabonds.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>How the Poor Live</b>; and <b>Horrible -London</b>. Crown 8vo, leatherette, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Dagonet Dramas.</b> Crown 8vo, 1<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Joyce Pleasantry.</b> With a Frontispiece -by <span class="smcap">Hugh Thomson</span>. Crown 8vo, -cloth, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[28]</a></span></p> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SHELLEY’S Complete WORKS -In Verse and Prose.</b> Edited by <span class="smcap">R. -Herne Shepherd</span>. Five Vols., crown -8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pn"><b>Poetical Works</b>, in Three Vols.:</p> - -<p>Vol. I. Margaret Nicholson; Shelley’s -Correspondence with Stockdale; Wandering -Jew; Queen Mab; Alastor; Rosalind and -Helen; Prometheus Unbound; Adonais.</p> - -<p>Vol. II. Laon and Cythna: The Cenci; -Julian and Maddalo; Swellfoot the Tyrant; -The Witch of Atlas; Epipsychidion; Hellas.</p> - -<p>Vol. III. Posthumous Poems; The -Masque of Anarchy; and other Pieces.</p> - -<p class="pn"><b>Prose Works</b>, in Two Vols.:</p> - -<p>Vol. I. Zastrozzi; St Irvyne; Dublin and -Marlow Pamphlets; Refutation of Deism; -Letters to Leigh Hunt; Minor Writings.</p> - -<p>Vol. II. Essays: Letters from Abroad; -Translations and Fragments: a Biography.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SISTER DORA.</b> By <span class="smcap">M. Lonsdale</span>. -Demy 8vo, 4<i>d.</i>; cloth, 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SLANG DICTIONARY (The)</b>: Historical -and Anecdotal. Cr. 8vo, cl., 6<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SMEDLEY (CONSTANCE).</b>—<b>The -June Princess.</b> Crown 8vo, -cloth. 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SOCIETY IN LONDON.</b> Crown -8vo, 1<i>s.</i>: cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SOMERSET (Lord HENRY).</b>—<b>Songs -of Adieu.</b> 4to, Jap. vellum, 6<i>s.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SOWERBY (M. and G.), -Children’s Books by.</b></p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Bumbletoes</b>: their Adventures with -Belinda and the Buttonsboy, pictured -in 12 Coloured Scenes and 18 other -Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Millicent Sowerby</span>. -With Verses by <span class="smcap">Githa Sowerby</span>. Small -crown 8vo, decorated boards, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Childhood</b>: Twelve Days from our Youth. -Pictured in Colours by <span class="smcap">Millicent -Sowerby</span> and written in Verse by <span class="smcap">Githa -Sowerby</span>. Crown 4to, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<p class="pa2"><b>Yesterday’s Children.</b> With 12 -Illustrations in Colour and many in line. -by <span class="smcap">Millicent Sowerby</span>; and Verses -By <span class="smcap">Githa Sowerby</span>. Crown 4to, cloth, -3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> net.</p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SPEIGHT (T. W.), Novels by.</b> -Post 8vo, illustrated boards. 2<i>s.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>The Mysteries of Heron Dyke.</b><br /> -<b>By Devious Ways.</b><br /> -<b>Hoodwinked</b>; & <b>Sandycroft Mystery</b>.<br /> -<b>Back to Life.</b><br /> -<b>The Golden Hoop.</b><br /> -<b>Quittance in Full.</b><br /> -<b>The Loudwater Tragedy.</b><br /> -<b>Burgo’s Romance.</b><br /> -<b>A Husband from the Sea.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pc reduct">Crown 8vo, cloth, 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each.</p> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Her Ladyship.</b><br /> -<b>The Grey Monk.</b><br /> -<b>The Master of Trenance.</b><br /> -<b>The Secret of Wyvern Towers.</b><br /> -<b>Doom of Siva.</b><br /> -<b>As it was Written.</b><br /> -<b>The Web of Fate.</b><br /> -<b>Experiences of Mr. Verschoyle.</b></p> - -<hr class="a2" /> - -<p class="pa3"><b>Stepping Blindfold.</b> Cr. 8vo, cloth, 6<i>s.</i><br /> -<b>Wife or No Wife.</b> Post 8vo, cloth, 1<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<hr class="a1" /> - -<p class="pa1"><b>SPEIGHT (E. 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C.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="p4">FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a></span> -The author has allowed himself a slight anachronism. The -prison was not a convict establishment at the period of this tale.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a></span> -Whisht = uncanny.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a></span> -Numbers 2, 20, and 24 are Double Volumes -and Double Price.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p> - -<p class="pfn4"><span class="ln1"><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a></span> -The Chaucer Vols., and also No. 50, may be had -in stiff paper covers at 1<i>s.</i> net each.</p></div> -</div> - - -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eve, by Sabine Baring-Gould - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE *** - -***** This file should be named 53411-h.htm or 53411-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/4/1/53411/ - -Produced by Giovanni Fini, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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