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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..0a7fcd7 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #61093 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/61093) diff --git a/old/61093-8.txt b/old/61093-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 477f2b1..0000000 --- a/old/61093-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5630 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: January 3, 2020 [EBook #61093] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW FLAG, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive - - - - - - - - - - -THE YELLOW FLAG. - - - - - - -THE YELLOW FLAG. -A Novel. - - - -BY EDMUND YATES, -AUTHOR OF "A WAITING RACE;" "BROKEN TO HARNESS," ETC. - - - -"That single effort by which we stop short in the downhill path to -perdition is itself a greater exertion of virtue than an hundred acts -of justice." OLIVER GOLDSMITH. - - - - -IN THREE VOLUMES. -VOL. I. - - - -LONDON: -TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST. STRAND. -1872. - -[_The right of translation and reproduction is reserved_.] - - - - - - -CORDIALLY INSCRIBED -TO -MY OLD FRIEND AND FELLOW-WORKER, -GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. - - - - - - -CONTENTS OF VOL. I. - -CHAP. -I. Calverley's Agent. -II. Exit Tom Durham. -III. Home, sweet Home. -IV. Pauline. -V. A little Paradise. -VI. A safe Investment. -VII. In the City. -VIII. The Vicar of Lullington. -IX. Tom Durham's Friend. -X. Mr. Tatlow on the Track. -XI. L'Amie de la Maison. -XII. When Doctors Disagree. - - - - - - -THE YELLOW FLAG. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -CALVERLEY'S AGENT. - - -"So you have conquered your dislike to leaving England, Tom; I am very -glad. I felt certain you would give-in to our wishes, and see the -wisdom of what we suggested to you ." - -"Well, I am not so certain about that, Ally; I don't go-in for -magnanimity; and I believe there is just that touch of obstinacy in my -nature, which would induce me to run counter to any proposition which -was very hardly pressed. But when the suggestion was backed as it has -been in this instance, I could not possibly doubt the sincerity of -those who made it. And so, as you see, I am off." - -The place where the conversation, of which a fragment has just been -given, occurred, was a broad gravelled path, the favourite promenade -of such of the worthy townspeople of Southampton as prefer the -beauties of nature to the attractions of the shops in the High-street. -On one side was the broad water glistening in the bright, cheerful -October sun, on the other a large strip of greensward fringed on the -farther edge by a row of shining, white-faced lodging-houses and -hotels. On the promenade, the grim cannons--trophies taken during the -Russian war--were surrounded by happy children, fearlessly climbing -upon the now innocuous engines of death, within hailing distance of -the shore a few boatmen were lazily pulling about, some young men were -intent on watching the progress of two dogs who were making a -neck-and-neck race for a stick which had been thrown into the water -for them to fetch, and the whole scene was one of pleasant -cheerfulness. - -Not out of harmony with it were the two persons whose words have been -recorded. The first speaker was a young woman about two-and-twenty, of -middle height, with a slight and graceful figure, and with a face -which, while some would have called it pretty, would have been -pronounced agreeable by all. The features were not regular, the nose -was decidedly not classical, the mouth was a little too large, and the -lips were a little too full; but there was a wonderful charm in the -whiteness and regularity of the teeth, in the bright flash of the -hazel eyes, in the crisp ripples of the dark brown hair, and in the -clear, healthy red and white of her complexion. She was very -becomingly dressed in a black silk gown, a dark-gray jacket trimmed -with velvet of the same colour, and a coquettish little black straw -hat, and she wore perfectly-fitting gloves and boots. Her companion -was some twelve years older, a short, squarely-built man, whose -breadth of shoulders and length of arms showed much muscular power. -The lower part of his face was covered with a thick copper-red beard; -the heavy moustaches falling over his mouth so completely as to defy -any revelation which might be made by the movements of that tell-tale -organ; but his eyes, small and set close together, had a shifty -expression, and round them there was that strained, seared look, which -in some men is always indicative of dissipation and late hours. He -wore a travelling suit of gray tweed, and a wide-awake hat, and from -under his beard the ends of a loosely-tied red silk neckerchief -fluttered in the wind. Lounging along with a rolling gait, his hands -buried in his jacket-pockets, he seemed to take but little heed of his -companion or her conversation, but paid particular attention to -various nursemaids in charge of the children who were playing about, -honouring each of them in turn with a long, peculiar, and offensive -stare. - -He had half turned round to look after a particularly attractive -damsel, when his companion, wishing to resume the conversation, -touched him on the arm, and said, "You will get to Ceylon in--" - -"O yes, in so many weeks--what matters one or two more or less? It -will be jolly enough on board ship, and when I arrive--I arrive." - -"I hope you have made up your mind to be steady, Tom, and to work -hard. You have now the means for a capital start in life, and for my -sake, if for nothing else, you ought to show yourself worthy of what -has been done for you." - -"Look here, Ally, don't preach," he said, turning sharply round to -her; "everybody thinks they can have a fling at me, and it is, 'O Tom -Durham this, and O Tom Durham that,' until I am sick enough of it -without being sermonised by my half-sister. Of curse it was very kind -of old Claxton--I beg your pardon," he said with a sneer, as he saw a -shade pass over her face; "I ought to speak with more deference of -your husband and my benefactor--of course it was very kind of Mr. -Claxton to pay my passage out to Ceylon, and give me two thousand -pounds to set myself up in business on my arrival there; but he is a -very long-headed fellow, and he knows I am no fool, and if the agency -turns out rightly, he will get a very considerable profit on his -outlay." - -"I am sure John has no such notion in doing this, Tom, and you have no -right to impute such a motive to him." - -"I impute nothing; I merely suggested; and, after all, perhaps he -only did it out of love for you, Ally, whom he worships as the apple -of his eye, in order to give your reckless half-brother a chance of -reform--and to get him out of his way," he muttered under his breath. - -"I am sure John is kindness itself," said Alice Claxton. "If there -were nothing to prove that, it could be found in the fact of his -wishing me to come down here to see the last of you." - -"Nothing like giving the old--I mean your husband, every possible -credit, Ally. You know just now he is away on one of his regular tours -and that therefore he won't miss you from Hendon." - -"I know," said the girl, half-pettishly, "these horrible -business-tours are the bane of my life, the only thing I have to -complain about. However, John says he hopes, it will not be very long -before they are over, and then he will be always at home." - -"Does he?" said Tom Durham, looking at her keenly; "I would not have -you depend upon that, Ally; I would not have you ask him to give up -the business which takes him away. It is important for him that he -should attend to it for the present, and indeed until there is no -longer a necessity for him to do so." - -"You need not speak so earnestly, Tom," said Alice, with a half-laugh; -"I assure you I do not worry John about it; it is he who speaks about -it much oftener than I do. He is constantly talking of the time when -he shall be able to retire altogether, and take me away for a long -foreign travel, perhaps to settle entirely abroad, he said, in -Florence or Vienna, or some charming place of that kind." - -"Old idiot!" muttered Tom Durham; "why can't he leave well alone?" - -"I told him," said Alice, not hearing or heeding the interruption, -"that I am perfectly content with Rose Cottage. All I wish is, that he -could be more there to enjoy it with me." - -"Yes," said Tom Durham, with a yawn. "Well, that will come all right, -as I told you; only don't you worry him about it, but leave it alone, -and let it come right in its own way. Now look here, Ally. You had -better go back to London by the 11.15 train, so that we have only half -an hour more together." - -"But you know, Tom, John told me I might wait and see the Massilia -start. Indeed, he particularly wished me to do so." - -"My dear child, the Massilia does not sail until half-past two; and if -you waited to see me fairly off, you would not have time to get over -to the railway to catch the three o'clock train. Even if you did, you -would not get to town until nearly six, and you would have a long -dreary drive in the dark to Hendon. Now, if you go by the quarter-past -eleven train, I shall see you off, and shall then be able to come back -to Radley's, and write a few letters of importance before I go on -board." - -"Very well, Tom," said Alice; "perhaps it will be better; only, -John--" - -"Never mind John on this occasion, Ally; he did not know at what time -the Massilia sailed. Now, Ally, let us take one final turn, and finish -our chat. I am not going to be sentimental--it is not in my line--but -I think I like you better than anybody else in the world, though I did -not take to you much at first. When I came back from sea, a boy of -fifteen, and went home and found my father had married again, I was -savage; and when he showed me a little baby lying in the cradle, and -told me it was my half-sister, I hated you. But you were a sweet -little child, and fended off many a rough word, and many a blow for -the matter of that, which the governor would have liked to have given -me, and I took to you; and when you grew up, you did me a good turn -now and then, and of course it is owing to you, one way or the other, -that I have got John Claxton's two thousand pounds in my pocket at -this moment. So I love you, and I leave you with regret, and I say -this to you at parting. Take this envelope, and lock it away somewhere -where it will be safe, and where you can lay your hand upon it at any -moment. It contains the address of an old pal of mine--a friend I -mean--one of the right sort, a staunch, tried, true, honest, upright -fellow. Hardworking and persevering too; such a kind of man, that you -may be astonished at his ever having been intimate with me. But he -was, and is, and I know that I may reckon upon him to the utmost. If -ever you come to grief, if ever you are in trouble, no matter of what -kind, go to the address which you will find there, and seek him out, -and tell him all about it; I will warrant he will see you through it." - -"Thank you, dear Tom; it is very kind and thoughtful of you to say -this, but you know I have John and--" - -"Yes, of course, you have John now; but there may be a time -when--however, that is neither here nor there. There is the envelope, -take it, and don't forget what I say. Now come round to the hotel and -pack your bag; it is time for you to start." - - -The bell rang, and with a scream the engine attached to the -eleven-fifteen train for London forged slowly out of the Southampton -station. Tom Durham, with an unusual expression of emotion on his -face, stood upon the platform kissing his hand to Alice, who, with the -tears in her eyes, leant back in the carriage and covered her face -with her handkerchief. In a second-class compartment next to that -which she occupied were two middle-aged, plainly-dressed men, who had -been observing the parting of the half-brother and sister with some -interest. - -"Was not that Tom Durham?" said one, as the train sped on its way. - -"Right you are," said the other; "I knew his face, but could not put a -name to it. What is he at now--working on the square or on the cross?" - -"On the square, I believe," said the first; "leastways I saw him -walking with Mr. Calverley in the City the other day, and he would not -have been in such respectable company if he had not been all right." - -"I suppose not," said the other man, "for the time being; but Tom -Durham is a shaky kind of customer anyways." - - - - -CHAPTER II. -EXIT TOM DURHAM. - - -Mr. Durham remained watching the departing train until it had passed -out of sight, when he turned round and walked quietly out of the -station. The emotion he had shown--and which, to his great -astonishment, he had really felt--had vanished, and left him in a -deeply contemplative state. He pushed his arms half way up to his -elbows in his pockets, and muttered to himself as he strode along the -street; but it was not until he found himself in the sitting-room at -Radley's Hotel, and had made himself a stiff glass of brandy-and-water -from the bottle, duly included in the bill which Alice had paid, that -he gave his feelings much vent. Then loading a short black pipe from a -capacious tobacco-pouch, he seated himself at the table, and as he -went through his various papers and memoranda thought aloud. - -"This is a rum start, and no mistake! Twenty years ago, when I left -this very same place a 'prentice on board the old Gloucestershire, I -never thought I should have the luck to stay in this swell hotel, and, -better still, not to have to put my hand in my own pocket to pay the -bill. It is luck, no doubt; a large slice of luck, larded with talent -and peppered with experience. That's the sort of meal for a man that -wants to get on in the world, and that's just what I have got before -me. Now, when I walk out of this hotel, I shall have two thousand -pounds in my pocket. In my pocket!--not to be paid on my arrival at -Ceylon, as the old gentleman at first insisted. Ally was of great -assistance there. I wonder why she backed me so energetically? I -suppose, because she thought it would have been _infra dig_. for her -brother to appear in the eyes of those blessed natives, over whom he -is to exercise superintendence, as though he had not been considered -worthy of being trusted with the money, and she was delighted with the -notion of bringing it down here herself and handing it to me. - -"If I hadn't touched the money until my arrival at Ceylon, I should -have had to wait a pretty long time. You're a dear old gentleman, Mr. -Claxton, and you mean well; but I don't quite see the fun of spending -the rest of my days in looking after a lot of niggers under a sun that -would dry the life-blood out of me before my time. There is an old -saying, that everyone must eat a peck of dirt in the course of their -lives. Well, I ate mine early, took it down at one gulp, and I don't -want any more of the same food. Besides, it is all very well for Ally -to talk about gratitude and that kind of thing; but she does not know -what I do, and it is entirely because I know what I do about my worthy -brother-in-law, that I have been enabled to put the screw upon him, -and to get out of him that very respectable bundle of bank-notes. That -was just like my luck again, to find that out, and be able to bring it -home to him so pat; directly I first got on the scent, I knew there -was money in it, and I followed it up until I placed it chuck-a-block -before him, and he parted freely. In such a respectable way, too. None -of your extortion; none of your threatening letters; none of your -'left till called for,' under initials, at the post-office; none of -your hanging about London spending money which nobody can imagine how -you get, and thereby starting suspicions of other matters which might -not come out quite so nicely if looked into. 'Agent at Ceylon to the -firm of Calverley and Company, brokers, Mincing-lane, London; -iron-smelters and boiler-makers, Swartmoor Foundry, Cumberland;' -that's what Thomas D. will have engraved on his card when he gets -there; and the two thousand pounds, as John gravely remarked before -Alice, were for fitting-up the office, and other necessary expenses. I -wonder what that poor child thought the other necessary expenses could -possibly be, to take such an amount of money? - -"No, dear sir, thank you very much. I am willing to allow that the -whole thing was done extremely well, and without causing the smallest -suspicion in the mind of little Ally; but you paid me the money -because you could not help it, and you will have to pay me a great -deal more for that very same reason. You're a very great scoundrel, -John Claxton, Esquire; a much greater scoundrel than I am, though I -have taken your money, and have not the remotest intention of becoming -your agent in Ceylon. You're a cold-blooded villain, sir, carrying out -your own selfish ends, and not, like myself, a generous creature, -acting upon impulse. Notwithstanding the fact that I have your money -in my pocket, I almost grudge you the satisfaction you will experience -when, in the course of to-morrow or the next day, you will hear the -news which will lead you to imagine that you are rid of me for ever. -But I console myself with the reflection, that when I turn up again, -as I undoubtedly shall, your disgust will be proportionately -intensified. - -"There," as he selected two or three papers from a mass before him and -carefully tore the rest into pieces, "there is the letter relating to -the document which has already done so much for me, and which is to be -my philosopher's-stone. I must not run the chances of wetting and -spoiling that paper when I take my midnight bath, so I shall hand it -over to Mrs. D. when I give her the money to take care of. May as well -put a seal on it though, for Mrs. D. is naturally curious, and as -jealous as a female Othello. One o'clock; just the time I promised to -meet her. Now then, the money in this pocket, the letter in that, and -the other papers torn up, and the brandy-bottle emptied. What you may -call a clean sweep of the whole concern." - -After settling his hat to his satisfaction, and looking at himself in -the glass with great complacency, Tom Durham strolled from the room, -leaving the door wide open behind him. He nodded familiarly to a -waiter whom he passed in the passage, but who, instead of returning -the salutation, stared at him in wrathful wonder--they were -unaccustomed to such gentry at Radley's--and then he passed into the -street. Looking leisurely around him, he made his way back again to -the promenade on which he had held his conversation with Alice -Claxton, and there, standing by one of the cannon, was another woman, -apparently awaiting his arrival. A woman about thirty years of age, -with swarthy complexion, bright beady black eyes, and dull blue-black -hair. French, without doubt. French in the fashion of her inexpensive -garments and the manner in which they were put on; undeniably French -in her boots and gloves, in her gait, in the gesture and recognition -which she made when she saw Tom Durham approaching her. That estimable -gentleman, apparently, was displeased at this gesture, for he frowned -when he saw it, and when he arrived at the woman's side, he said, -"Don't be so infernally demonstrative, Pauline; I have told you of -that before." - -"Mais, should I stand like a stone or stock when you come before me?" -said the woman, with the slightest trace of a foreign accent. "I was -longing to see you, and you came. Is it, then, astonishing--" - -"No, all right; don't jaw," said Tom Durham shortly. "Only, in our -position it is not advisable to attract more notice than necessary. -Well, here you are." - -"Yes, I am here." - -"All goes well; I told you there was an old gentleman--Claxton by -name--connected with Calverley's firm, for which I'm supposed to be -going out as agent, from whom I could get a sum of money, and I have -got it--he sent it to me." - -"Ah, ah, he sent it to you?" - -"Yes, by--by a messenger whom he could trust; and this is not by any -means the last that I shall have from him. He thinks I am off for the -East, and that he is rid of me; but as soon as this sum is spent, he -shall know the difference." - -"You have made the arrangements about that?" - -"I have arranged everything. I saw the pilot; he told me it was -blowing hard outside, and that he shall pass the night off the Hurst. -I have been on board, and seen exactly how best to do what I intend; -and now there is nothing left but to give you your instructions." - -"Stay," said the woman, laying her hand on his breast, and looking -earnestly into his face. "You are certain you run no risk; you are -certain that--" - -"Take your hand away," he said; "you will never understand our English -ways, Pauline; the people here cannot make out what you are about. I -am all right, depend upon it. I could swim four times the distance in -much rougher weather; and even if there were any danger, the prize is -much too great to chance the loss of it for a little risk. Don't be -afraid, Pauline," he added, with a little softening of his voice, "but -clear that quick, clever brain of yours and attend to me. Here is the -bundle of bank-notes, and here is a letter which is almost as -important; place them both securely in the bosom of your dress, and -don't take them out for one instant until you hand them over to me -to-morrow morning at Lymington station--you understand?" - -"Perfectly," said the woman, taking the packets from him. "What time -will you be there?" - -"By half-past seven, when the first train passes. We can loaf away the -day on the beach at Weymouth--we might go over to Portland, if you -have any fancy to see the place; I have not; all in good time, say -I--and start for Guernsey by the midnight boat. Now is there anything -more to say?" - -"No," said Pauline; then suddenly, "Yes. Apropos of Portland, -Wetherall and Moger were in this place to-day. I saw them at the -station, in the train going up to town. They put their heads out of -the window to look after you." - -"The devil!" cried Tom Durham; "they were down here, were they, and -you saw them? Why, what on earth were you doing at the station?" - -"I arrived here too soon, and walked up there to pass the time." - -"Did you--did you see any one else?" asked Tom Durham, looking fixedly -at her. - -"Any one else? Plenty--porters, passengers, what not; but of people -that I knew, not a soul," answered the woman, raising her eyes and -meeting his gaze with perfect calmness. - -"That's all right," he muttered; then louder, "Now it's time for me to -go on board. Goodbye, Pauline; make your way to Lymington, and look -out for me at the station at seven-thirty to-morrow morning." - -As she stood looking after him, a hard, defiant expression came over -the woman's face. "Did I see any one else?" she said between her set -teeth; "yes, _mon cher_, I saw the pale, white-faced girl whom you -held in your arms and kissed at parting, and who fell back into the -carriage and cried like a baby, as she is. This, then, was the secret -of your refusing to go to India with the money of this old fool whom -you have robbed! Or rather whom she has robbed; for she was the -messenger who brought it to you, and it is doubtless she who has -beguiled this dotard out of the bank-notes which she handed over to -you, her lover. _Peste!_ If that slavish love I have for you were not -mixed with the dread and terror which I have learnt from experience, I -would escape with this money to my own land, and leave you and your -mignonne to make it out as best you might. But I am weak enough to -love you still, and my revenge on her must wait for a more fitting -opportunity." - -Her passion spent, Pauline gathered her shawl tightly round her and -walked away towards the town. - - -On board the steam-ship Massilia matters had happened pretty much as -Tom Durham had foreseen. That capital sample of the Peninsular and -Oriental Company's fleet worked out of harbour at half-past two, and, -in charge of a pilot, made her way slowly and steadily down -Southampton Water. The wind freshened, and darkness coming on, the -captain decided on anchoring off Hurst Castle for the night, and -proceeding on his voyage at daylight. This decision was greatly to the -delight of the passengers, who had not yet shaken down into that -pleasant companionship which such a voyage frequently brings about, -and who, restless and strange in their unaccustomed position, were -glad to seek their berths at a very early hour. During the afternoon's -run Tom Durham had succeeded in creating for himself a vast amount of -popularity. He chatted with the captain about nautical matters, of -which he had obtained a smattering when he was apprentice on board the -old East Indiaman; he talked to the lady passengers, deprecating their -dread of sea-sickness, and paying them pleasant attention, while he -smoked with the gentlemen, and took care to let them all know the -important position which he occupied, as the agent of Calverley and -Company. Never was there so agreeable a man. - -At about one in the morning, when perfect quiet reigned throughout the -ship, the passengers being asleep in their berths, the men, save those -on duty, sound in the forecastle, and the echo of the watch-officer's -footsteps dying away in the distance, Tom Durham suddenly appeared at -the head of the saloon companion, and made his way swiftly towards the -middle of the ship. He was dressed as in the morning, save that he -wore no coat, and that instead of boots he had on thin light slippers. -When he arrived opposite the huge half-circle of the paddle-box he -stopped, and groping with his hands speedily found an iron ring, -seizing which he pulled open a door, which revolved on its hinges, -disclosing a wooden panel, which he slid back, and stepping through -the aperture found himself standing on one of the broad paddles of the -enormous wheel. In an instant he had pulled the first door back to its -previous position, and stepping lightly from paddle to paddle stood on -the nethermost one just above the surface of the water. He paused for -a moment, bending down and peering out into the darkness, then raising -his hands high up above his head and clasping them together, he dived -down into the water, scarcely making a splash. - -Ten minutes afterwards, one of the two men always on duty in the -little telegraph hut under Hurst Castle, opened the door, and -accompanied by a big black retriever, who was growling angrily, walked -out into the night. When he returned, his companion hailed him from -the little bedroom overhead. - -"What's the matter, Needham--what's the dog growling about?" - -"I thought I heard a cry," said the man addressed; "Nep must have -thought so too, by the way he's going on; but I can see nothing. When -I was out a few minutes ago I thought I saw something like a dog -swimming near the Massilia, lying at anchor there, but it isn't there -now. I doubt, after all, it may have been my fancy." - -"I wish you would keep your fancy to yourself, and not let it rouse me -up," growled his mate. "One don't get too much rest in this blessed -place at the best of times." - - - - -CHAPTER III. -HOME, SWEET HOME. - - -Fashion, amidst the innumerable changes which she has insisted on, -seems to have dealt lightly with Great Walpole-street. It may be that -she has purposely left it untouched to remain an example of the heavy, -solemn, solid style of a hundred years ago; a striking contrast to the -"gardens," "crescents," "mansions," all stucco, plate-glass, and huge -portico, of modern days; or it may be that finding it intractable, -unalterable, unassailable, she has looked upon it as a relic of -barbarism, and determined altogether to ignore its existence. However -that may be, the street is little changed since the days of its -erection; it still remains a long, and, to those gazing down it from -either end, apparently interminable line of large, substantial, -three-storied, dull-coloured brick houses, stretching from -Chandos-square in the south to Guelph Park in the north, so long, so -uniform, so unspeakably dreary, as to give colour to the assertion of -a celebrated wit, who, on his death-bed moaning forth that "there is -an end to all things," added feebly, "except Great Walpole-street." - -In its precincts gravity and decorum have set up their head-quarters; -on many of its door-plates the passers-by may read the names of -distinguished members of the faculty, old in age and high in renown, -pupils of Abernethy and Astley Cooper, who with the first few hundreds -which they could scrape together after their degrees were obtained, -hired, and furnished, as a first step to professional status, the -houses in which they still reside, and in which they have since -inspected so many thousand tongues, and passed the verdict of life or -death upon so many thousand patients. Youth must be resident here and -there in Great Walpole-street, as in other places, but if so, it is -never seen. No nursemaids with heads obstinately turned the other way -drive the pleasant perambulator against the legs of elderly people -airing themselves in the modified sunlight which occasionally visits -the locality; no merry children troop along its pavement; from the -long drawing-room windows, hung with curtains of velvet and muslin, -issues no sound of piano or human voice. Although there is no beadle -to keep inviolate its sanctity, the street-boy as he approaches its -confines stops his shrill whistling, and puts his tip-cat into his -pocket; the "patterers" of the second editions pass it by, conscious -that the rumours of war, or of the assassinations of eminent -personages, will fall flat upon the ears of the inhabitants; while -even the fragmentary announcement, "Elopement--young lady--noble -markis," will fail in extracting the pence from the pockets of the -denizens of the lower regions in this respectable quarter. - -It is essentially a carriage neighbourhood, with ranges of mews -branching out of and running parallel to it; and the vehicles are -quite in keeping with the street and with their owners. Besides the -doctors' broughams, high swinging chariots, now scarcely ever seen -save on drawing-room days or in carriage bazaars, with huge -hammercloths and vast emblazoned panels, are there common enough. -Roomy landaus, broad barouches, with fat-horses, the leather of whose -harness is almost invisible beneath the heavy silver plating, coachmen -in curly white bob-wigs, and giant footmen gorgeous in hair-powder; -all these are to be found in Great Walpole-street. - -Money, money, money! it all seems to say. We have money, and we will -take care that you shall know it. We will not pay enormous rents for -poky tenements in Mayfair, or straggling caravanserais in Tyburnia; we -do not expend our substance in park-phaetons or Victorias, any more -than in giving "drums" or "at homes." We have, during the season, -several dinner-parties, at which the wine set before you does not come -from the grocer's or the publican's, but has been in our cellars for -years; several musical evenings, and one or two balls. We go to the -Opera three or four times during the season, occasionally to the -theatre, frequently to a classical concert, or an oratorio; but we -would as soon think of attending a prize-fight as a pigeon-match, or -of prohibiting our womankind from going to church, as of taking them -to listen to comic songs in a supper-room. We are rich, which you may -be; but we are respectable, which you are not! Vaunt your fashion as -much as you please, but the home of moneyed decency and decorum is -Great Walpole-street. - -Six o'clock on an October evening, with a chill damp wind howling at -intervals through the funnel made by the opposing lines of houses, is -not the time in which this locality looks its best. If it is dreary in -the spring brightness, in the summer sunshine, it is doubly dreary in -the autumn decadence, when the leaves torn from the trees in Guelph -Park mix with the dust and bits of straw and scraps of paper which -gather together in swerving eddies in every possible corner, and when -in most of the houses the shutters are still closed, and the blinds -have not shed the newspaper coverings in which they have been -enwrapped during the absence of the inhabitants. In one of the largest -houses of the street, on one particular October evening, no such signs -of absenteeism were visible; the whiteness of the broad door-step was -unsullied, the plate-glass windows were free from speck or spot, the -dwarf wire-blinds in the dining-room stood rigidly defiant of all -criticism, and the muslin curtains in the drawing-room seemed to have -lost all the softness and pliancy of their nature, and hung stiff, and -white, and rigid, as the gaunt and bony hands which from time to time -pushed them on one side, as the blank and colourless face which from -time to time peered through them into the street. These hands and that -face belonged to Mrs. Calverley, the mistress of the mansion. A thin, -spare woman of fifty years of age, with a figure in which were angles -where there should have been roundness, and straightness of outline -where there should have been fulness. Her silk dress was of an -undecided fawn-colour, and in place of any relieving white collar, she -wore a wisp of black net round her throat. Her face was long, with a -large straight-nose, prominent eyes of steely blue, and a long upper -lip, between which and its thin pallid companion there gleamed a row -of strong white teeth. Her thin scanty iron-gray hair was taken off -from her forehead above the temples and gathered into a small knot at -the back. Such an expanse of colourless flesh, such a dull level waste -of human features unrelieved by the slightest scintilla of interest or -sympathy! - -In her prim, flat-soled creaking shoes, Mrs. Calverley walked to the -window, pushed back the curtains, and looked out down the silent -street; then, with a sound which was something between a sigh of -despair and a snort of defiance, she returned to the low prie-dieu -chair worked in wool, but covered with a shiny, crackling, yellow -substance; and arranging her scanty drapery around her, interwove her -bony fingers in her lap and sat bolt upright, staring rigidly before -her. All the furniture in the room which was capable of being covered -up was clad in a uniform of brown holland; the chairs were dressed in -pinafores, the big broad sofa had a loosely cut greatcoat of the same -material; even the chandeliers had on holland bags. There was no light -in the room, but the gas lamps in the street were reflected from the -bare shining rosewood table, from the long grand pianoforte, from the -huge ormolu clock ticking gravely on the mantelpiece, from the glass -shades enshrining wax flowers and fruit, which, made such a poor -pretence of being real, and from the old-fashioned handsomely-cut -girandoles. By the chair in which Mrs. Calverley was seated stood a -frame of Berlin work; in the middle of the hearth-rug before the -fireplace--fireless now, and filled with a grim pattern of cut -coloured paper--lay a stuffed white-haired dog, intently regarding his -tail through his glass eyes, and apparently wondering what he had done -in life to be consigned to such a degraded position. - -A quarter-past six, half-past, a quarter to seven, ring out from the -neighbouring church, and at each sound of the chimes Mrs. Calverley -rises to her feet, creaks across to the window, looks forth, creaks -back again, and resumes her stony position. At length there comes a -half-timid ring of the bell, which she recognises at once, straightens -her back, and settles herself more rigidly than ever. A few minutes -after, the drawing-room door opens, and a voice, the owner of which -cannot be seen, is heard saying, "Dear me, all in darkness, Jane?" - -Mrs. Calverley makes no reply, but rings the bell, and when the -servant appears, says to him in a thin acid voice, "You can light the -gas, James; and now that your master has come home at last, dinner can -be served." - -Upon this remark Mr. Calverley's only comment is a repetition of "Dear -me!" He is a middle-sized, pleasant-looking man, with fair hair -slightly sprinkled with gray, gray whiskers, light-blue eyes, -and marvellous pink-and-white complexion like a doll: a -gentlemanly-looking man in his plain black frock-coat and waistcoat, -gray trousers, black-silk cravat and pearl pin, and neat buttoned -boots. He looks rather nervously to his wife, and edges his way -towards her round the table. When he is within a few feet of her he -produces a newspaper from his pocket, and makes a feeble tender of it, -saying, "The evening paper, my dear; I thought you would like to -see--" - -"I should like to see you attempt to relieve the monotony of my life, -Mr. Calverley, and not to leave me here alone, while you were -doubtless enjoying yourself." - -"My dear, I assure you I have come straight home." - -"Did business detain you until after six o'clock in Mincing-lane?" - -"No, my dear, of course not till six o'clock; I walked home, and on my -way I just looked in at the club, and--" - -"At the club!" That was all Mrs. Calverley said, but the manner in -which she said it had its due effect. Mr. Calverley opened the leaves -of a photograph album, with every portrait in which he was thoroughly -familiar, and began to be extremely interested in its contents. - -"Dinner will be ready directly," said Mrs. Calverley; "had you not -better wash your hands?" - -"Thank you, my dear," said the disconsolate man; "but I washed them at -the cl--" - -He pulled himself up just in time; the obnoxious word had very nearly -slipped out, but the servant announcing dinner at the moment, and Mrs. -Calverley laying the tips of her bony fingers in the hollow of her -husband's arm, the happy pair proceeded to the banquet. - -It was a good dinner, handsomely served, but Mr. Calverley can -scarcely be said to have enjoyed it. At first he audibly asked for -wine, but after he had been helped three or four times, he glanced -hurriedly across the long table, at the other end of which his wife -was seated, and furtively motioned to the butler by touching his -glass. This pantomime and its results were soon noticed by Mrs. -Calverley, who, after glaring at her husband for a moment, gave a -little shiver, and said: - -"It is of no use paying Doctor Chipchase his fees if his advice is to -be scouted in this manner; you know what he said about your drinking -wine." - -"My dear, I only--" - -"You only fly in the face of Providence, Mr. Calverley, and behave -unjustly to the office in which your life is insured. You only add -another to the long catalogue of weaknesses and moral cowardices, by -the constant display of which you render my life a burden to me. I am -sick of talking to you myself; I shall write and ask Martin to come -and stay with us for a few weeks, and see what effect his influence -will have upon you." - -"I am sure I shall be very glad to see Martin, my dear," said Mr. -Calverley, after standing up reverently to say grace on the removal of -the cloth; "he is a very good fellow, and--" - -"Don't talk of a clergyman of the Church of England in that way, Mr. -Calverley, if you please. 'Good fellow,' indeed! My son Martin is a -good man, and an ornament to his calling." - -"Yes, my dear, of course he is; preaches an excellent sermon, does -Martin, and intones quite musically. I should like to see him a little -more cheerful, I mean a little less ascetic, you know; take his wine -more freely, and not look quite so much as if he was fed upon parched -peas and filtered water." - -"You are profane, as usual," said his wife. "Whenever you touch upon -any member of my family, your temper gets the better of you, and your -uncontrollable tendency to scoffing and scepticism breaks forth. -Perhaps you will not think it too much trouble to pass me the -biscuits." - -"My dear Jane!" murmured the wretched man; and after handing the -silver biscuit-barrel to his wife, he sat by, not daring to help -himself to another glass of wine from the well-filled decanters before -him, while the mere fact of seeing her munching away at the hard -farinaceous food nearly drove him mad with thirst. - -When Mrs. Calverley had concluded this succulent repast, she rose from -her seat, and, without taking any notice of her husband, creaked -stiffly out of the room. John Calverley, lover of ease and -tranquillity as he was, scarcely regretted this little conjugal -dispute, inasmuch as that if Mrs. Calverley had not, in consequence of -the words that had passed between them, been on her dignified -behaviour, she would have remained to lock up the wine. Whereas John -managed to swallow two glasses of his favourite Madeira before he -joined her in the drawing-room. - -It was not very cheerful in the drawing-room. The gas had been turned -low down, and the principal light in the room, much softened and -shaded, came from a reading-lamp placed immediately above the -work-frame at which Mrs. Calverley's bony fingers were busily engaged -depicting the story of Jael, with a very rugged profile, and Sisera, -the death-glare in whose eyes was represented by a couple of steel -beads. John Calverley, furtively wiping his lips after the Madeira, -shambled awkwardly into the room, and could scarcely repress a groan -at the ghastliness of its appearance. But the generous wine which he -had drunk helped to cheer him a little; and after wandering to and fro -in a purposeless manner, he approached his wife, and said: -"Won't you play something, dear?" - -"No, thank you," replied Mrs. Calverley; "I wish to finish this work." - -"It is rather a nice thing," said John, bending over the production, -and criticising it in a connoisseur-like manner; "what is it all -about?" - -"It is well that no one is here to hear this lamentable display of -ignorance," said Mrs. Calverley, with a snort. "It is a scriptural -story, Mr. Calverley, and is intended as a footstool for the Church of -St. Beowulph." - -"O yes," said John, nodding his head; "I know--Bewsher's place." - -"It would be more decent, as well as more correct, to speak of it as -the church in which Mr. Bewsher is officiating minister, I think," -said Mrs. Calverley with another snort. - -"To be sure, my dear; quite correct," said peace-loving John. "By the -way, talking about officiating ministers, perhaps you had better not -ask Martin to come to us just yet; I have got to go down to that place -in the North next week." - -"What place in the North?" said Mrs. Calverley, looking up. - -"What place? Why, my dear, Swartmoor, of course--the foundry, you -know; that's the only place I go to in the North." - -"I don't know what place you do or do not go to in the North, or -anywhere else, Mr. Calverley," said his wife, sticking her needle into -the canvas, and interlacing her bony fingers and sitting bolt upright, -as she glared straight at him; "I only know this, that I am determined -not to stand this state of things much longer." - -"But, my dear--" - -"Don't 'my dear' me, if you please, but listen to what I have to say. -When I married you, Mr. Calverley, to my sorrow, now some ten years -ago, you were nothing more than the head clerk in the house of -Lorraine Brothers, which my grandfather had founded, which my father -and uncles had established, and in which my late husband, Mr. Gurwood, -had been a sleeping partner." - -"I must say that--" - -"Silence, if you please; I will not be interrupted. I took you from -that inferior position, and made you my husband. I made you master of -this house and my fortune. I raised you, Mr. Calverley. I tell you, I -raised you, sir, from obscurity to position, from comparative penury -to wealth; and what is my reward? Day after day you are absent from -home at your counting-house in Mincing-lane. I don't object to that; I -suppose it is necessary; but I know--yes, I know, Mr. Calverley--this -is not my first experience of men of business; I have been a -grand-daughter, a daughter, and a sister of the firm, and though -latterly Mr. Gurwood was not quite regular in his attendance, at least -at one time he was an excellent man of business--so that I may say -also the wife of the firm, and I know that business hours are over at -five, and that my sainted father used then to come straight home to -Clapham by the omnibus." - -"I--" - -"You must allow me to speak, if you please; I will not be interrupted. -Instead of which, I find you going to your club and dawdling there to -the latest minute, often keeping my dinner waiting; and when you -return home, your conversation is frivolous, your manner light and -flighty, and wanting in repose; your tastes and habits evidently -unsuitable to a person in the position of my husband. I have borne all -this without complaint; I know that all of us mortals--sinful -mortals--have a cross to bear, and that you have been bestowed upon me -in that capacity. But, be a lone deserted woman when I have a husband -whose legitimate business it is to stay at home and take care of me, I -will not. These Swartmoor works are all very well, I daresay, and I -know you declare that they bring in a vast deal of profit; but there -was profit enough in my father's time without any of your iron works; -and if you intend to continue paying them a visit every fortnight, and -staying several days away, as you have done lately, they shall be -given up, Mr. Calverley--they shall be given up, I say. I may be of no -more concern to you than a chair or a table, but I will not be a -deserted woman, and these iron works shall be given up." - -Those who had seen but little of the pleasant-faced John Calverley, -would scarcely have recognised him in the darkly-frowning man who now -strode forward, and crossing his arms on the back of a chair -immediately in front of his wife, said in a very quiet but very -determined voice: - -"They shall not be given up. Understand that once for all--they shall -not be given up. You may say what you like, but I am master in my -business, if not in my home, and they shall not be given up. And now, -Jane, you must listen to me; must listen to words which I never -intended to have said, if the speech you have just made had not -rendered it necessary. You have told me what you have pleased to call -facts; now I will give you my version of them. When I married you ten -years ago--and God knows you cannot deplore that marriage more -heartily than I do--I was, as you say, the head clerk of the firm -which your father had established. But in his latter days he had been -ill and inattentive to business; and after his death your uncles, to -whom the concern was left, proved themselves utterly inadequate to its -guidance; and if it had not been for me, the firm of Lorraine and -Company would have been in the Gazette. You know this well enough; you -know that I, as head clerk, took the whole affair on my shoulders, -reorganised it, opened out new avenues for its commerce, and finally -succeeded in making it what it was when you first saw me. You taunt me -with having been raised by you from penury to position; but you know -that the whole of your fortune was embarked in the business, and that -if it had not been for my clear head and hard work, you would have -lost every penny of it. You accuse me of being light and frivolous and -unsuited to you, of being away from my home; though, except on these -business expeditions, not an evening do I pass out of your society. In -return, I ask you what sort of a home you make for me? what sign of -interest, of comfort, of anything like womanly grace and feeling is -there about it? What reception do I meet with on my return from -business? what communion, what reciprocity is there between us? Every -word I say, every remark I make, you either sneer or snap at. You are -a hard, intolerant Pharisee, Jane Calverley. By your hardness and -intolerance, by your perpetually nagging and worrying at him, you -tried to break the spirit of your former husband, George Gurwood, one -of the kindest fellows that ever lived. But you failed in that; you -only drove him to drink and to death. Now I have said my say, have -said what I never intended should pass my lips, what never would have -passed them, if it had not been for your provocation. I wish you -good-night--I am now going to the club." - -So saying, John Calverley bowed his head and passed from the room, -leaving his wife no longer rigid and defiant, but swaying herself to -and fro, and moaning helplessly. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -PAULINE. - - -The cold gray morning light, shining through the little window of a -small bedroom in a second-rate hotel at Lymington, made its way -through the aperture between the common dimity curtains, which had -been purposely separated overnight, and fell on the slumbering figure -of Pauline. The poor and scanty furniture of the room, with its dingy -bed-hangings, its wooden washstand, two rush-bottomed chairs, and -rickety one-sided chest of drawers, all painted a pale stone-colour, -were in strong contrast with the richness of colouring observable in -the sleeper,--observable in her jet-black hair, now taken from off her -face and gathered into one large coil at the back of her head; in her -olive complexion, sun-embrowned indeed, but yet showing distinctly the -ebb and flow of her southern blood; and in the deep orange-hued -handkerchief daintily knotted round her neck. See, now, how troubled -are her slumbers; how from between her parted lips comes a long though -scarcely audible moan; how the strong thin hand lying outside the -coverlet clutches convulsively at nothing; and how she seems in her -unrest to be struggling to free herself from the thraldom of the -troublous dream, under the influence of which part of the torture -suffered by her during the previous day is again pressing upon her! - -Yes; the woman with the pale tear-blurred face is there once again. -Once again Tom Durham stands at the carriage-door, whispering to her -with evident earnestness, until the guard touches him on the shoulder, -and the whistle shrieks, and then she bends forward, and he holds her -for a moment in his outspread arms, and kisses her once, twice, thrice -on her lips, until he is pulled aside by the porter coming to shut the -door of the already-moving carriage, and she falls back in an agony of -grief. There is a moisture in his eyes too; such as she, Pauline, with -all her experience of him, has never seen there. He is the lover of -this pale-faced woman, and therefore he must die! She will kill him -herself! She will kill him with the pearl-handled knife which Gaetano, -the mate of the Italian ship, gave her, telling her that all the -Lombard girls wore such daggers in their garters, ready for the heart -of any Tedesco who might insult them, or any other girl who might -prove their rival. The dagger is upstairs, in the little bedroom at -the top of the house, overlooking the Cannebière, which she shares -with Mademoiselle Mathilde. She will fetch it at once; and after it -has served its purpose she will carry it to the chapel of Notre Dame -de la Garde, and hang it up among the votive offerings: the pictures -of shipwrecks, storms, sea-fights, and surgical operations; the models -of vessels, the ostrich-eggs, the crutches left by cripples no longer -lame, and the ends of the ropes by which men have been saved from -drowning. How clearly she can see the place, and all its contents, -before her now! She will leave the dagger there: as the weapon by -which a traitor and an Englishman has been slain, it will not be out -of place, though Père Gasselin shake his head and lift his monitory -finger. She will fetch it at once. Ah, how delicious and yet how -strange seem to her the smell of the pot-au-feu, and the warm aroma of -the chocolate! How steep the stairs seem to have become; she will -never be able to reach the top! What is this, Pierre and Jean are -saying? The sea has swept away the breakwater at La Joliette, and is -rapidly rushing into the town! It is here; it is in the street below! -Fighting madly with the boiling waters is one man--she can catch a -glimpse of his face now. Grand Dieu, it is Tom! She will save him--no, -too late, he is borne swiftly past, he is-- - -And with a short suppressed scream she woke. - -It was probably the rapping of the chambermaid at the bedroom door -which dissipated Pauline's dream, and recalled her to herself, and it -is certain that the chambermaid, whose quick ears caught the scream, -went downstairs more than ever impressed with terror at the "foreign -person" whom she had scarcely had sufficient courage to conduct to her -room on the previous evening. Notwithstanding the bizarre shape which -they had assumed, these reminiscences of a portion of Pauline's past -life had been so vivid, that it was with great difficulty she could -clear her brain, and arrive at an idea of why she found herself in the -dingy bedroom of a country inn, and of what lay before her. Sitting -upon the edge of her bed, with her arms crossed upon her bosom, she -gradually recalled the occurrences of the previous day, and came to -comprehend what had been the key-note of her dream, and who was the -pale-faced woman whose presence had so disturbed her. There was, -however, no time for reflection at that moment; she had been aroused -in accordance with instructions given on the previous night, and there -was but little time for her to dress herself and make her way to the -station, where she was to await the arrival of her husband. Her toilet -completed, she hurried downstairs, and declining to taste any of the -substantial breakfast which the hearty Hampshire landlady was then -engaged in discussing, and to which she invited her visitor, issued -out into the broad street of the quiet old town. - -Past the low-windowed shops, where the sleepy 'prentice-boys were -taking down the shutters, and indulging in such fragmentary -conversation as could be carried on under the eyes of their masters, -which they knew were bent upon them from the upper rooms; past the -neat little post-office, where the click of the telegraph-needles was -already audible, and whence were issuing the sturdy country post-men, -each with his huge well-filled leathern wallet on his back; past the -yacht-builder's yard, where the air was redolent of pitch and tar, and -newly-chipped wood, where through the half-opened gates could be seen -the slender, tapering masts of many yachts already laid up for the -season in the creek, and where a vast amount of hammering and sawing -and planing was, as the neighbours thought interminably, going on. Not -but what the yacht-building yard is one of the great features of the -place; for, were it not for the yacht-owners, who first come down to -give orders about the building of their vessels; then pay a visit to -see how their instructions are being carried out; and finally, finding -the place comfortable, tolerably accessible, and not too dear, bring -their wives and families, and make it their head-quarters for the -yachting season, what stranger would ever come to Lymington? what -occupants would be found for its lodging-houses and hotels? - -The clock struck seven as Pauline passed through the booking-office at -the railway station, and stepped out on to the platform. She looked -hastily round her in search for Tom Durham, but did not see him. A -sudden chill fell upon her as the remembrance of her dream flashed -across her mind. The next instant she was chiding herself for -imagining that he would be there. There was yet half an hour before -the arrival of the train by which they were to proceed to Weymouth; he -would be tired by his long swim from the ship to the shore, his -clothes would of course be saturated, and he would have to dry them; -he would doubtless rest as long as he could in the place where he had -found shelter, and only join her just in time to start. There was no -doubt about his finding shelter somewhere; he was too clever not to do -that; he was the cleverest man in all the world; it was for his talent -she had chosen him from all the others years ago; it was for--and then -Pauline's face fell, remembering that Tom Durham was as unscrupulous -as he was clever, and that if this pale-faced woman were really -anything to him, he would occupy his talent in arranging how and when -to meet her in secret, in planning how to obtain farther sums of money -from the old man whose messenger she had been. - -How the thought of that woman haunted her! How her whole life seemed -to have changed since she had witnessed that parting at the railway -station yesterday! She felt that it would be impossible for her to -hide from Tom the fact that she was labouring under doubt and -depression of some kind or other. She knew his tact and determination -in learning whatever he thought it behoved him to find out; and she -thought it would be better to speak openly to him, to tell him what -she had seen, and to ask him for some explanation. Yes, she would do -that. The train was then in sight; he would no longer delay putting in -an appearance on the platform, and in a few minutes they would be -travelling away to soft air and lovely scenery, with more than -sufficient money for their present wants, and for a time at least with -rest and peace before them. Then she would tell him all; and he would -doubtless reassure her, showing her how silly and jealous she had -been, but forgiving her because she had suffered solely through her -love for him. - -By this time a number of passengers had gathered together on the -platform, awaiting the arrival of the train, and Pauline passed -hastily among them looking eagerly to the right and left, and, -retracing her steps through the booking-office, opened the door and -glanced up the street leading to the station. No sign of Tom Durham -anywhere! Perhaps he had found a nearer station to a point at which he -had swum ashore, and would be in the train now rapidly approaching. - -The train stopped; two or three passengers alighted, and were -so soon mixed up with the crowd of sailors, ship-carpenters, and -farm-labourers rushing to take their seats, that Pauline could not -distinguish them, but she knew Tom was not amongst them; and when she -walked quickly down the line of carriages, throwing a rapid but -comprehensive glance round each, she saw him not; and the train passed -on, and she was left once more alone upon the platform. - -Then, with frowning brows and set rigid lips, Pauline commenced -walking up and down, covering with her long striding footsteps, so -different from her usual easy, swimming gait, exactly the same amount -of space at every turn, wheeling, apparently unconsciously, at the -same point, treading almost in the same prints which she had -previously made, keeping her eyes steadfastly fixed on the ground, and -being totally unaware of all that was passing around her. She was a -clear-headed as well as a strong-willed woman, accustomed to look life -and its realities boldly in the face, and, unlike the majority of her -countrymen and women, swift to detect the shallowness of sophistry -when propounded by others, and careful never even to attempt to impose -upon herself. Throughout her life, so long as she could remember, she -had been in the habit of thinking-out any project of importance which -had arisen in her career while walking to and fro, just as she was -doing then. It was perhaps the sameness of the action, perhaps some -reminiscence of her dream still lingering in her mind, that turned her -memory to the last occasion when she had taken such thoughtful -exercise; and the scene exactly as it occurred rose before her. - -The time, early morning, not much after six o'clock; the place, the -Prado at Marseilles; the persons, a few belated blue-bloused workmen -hurrying to their work, a few soldiers lounging about as only soldiers -always seem to lounge when they are not on duty, a limonadière with -her temple deposited on the ground by her side, while she washes the -sparkling tin cups in a sparkling tin cups in a drinking-fountain; -two or three water-carts pounding along and refreshingly sprinkling -the white dusty road, two or three English grooms exercising horses, -and she, Pauline Lunelle, dame du comptoir at the Restaurant du Midi, -in the Cannebière, pacing up and down the Prado, and turning over in -her mind a proposition on the acceptance or rejection of which -depended her future happiness or misery. That proposition was a -proposition of marriage, not by any means the first she had received. -The handsome, black-eyed, black-haired, olive-skinned dame du comptoir -was one of the reigning belles of the town, and the Restaurant du Midi -was such a popular place of resort, that she never lacked admirers. -All the breakfast-eaters, the smokers, the billiard-players, even the -decorated old gentlemen who dropped in as regularly as clockwork every -evening for a game of dominoes or tric-trac, paid their court to her, -and in several cases this court was something more than the mere -conventional hat-doffing or the few words of empty politeness -whispered to her as she attended to the settlement of their accounts. -Adolphe de Noailles--only a sous-lieutenant of artillery, to be sure, -but a man of good family, and who, it was said, was looked upon with -favour by Mademoiselle Krebs, daughter Of old Monsieur Krebs, the -German banker, who was so rich and who gave such splendid parties--had -asked Pauline Lunelle to become his wife, had "ah-bah-d" when she -talked about the difference in their positions, and had insisted that -in appearance and manner she was equal to any lady in the south of -France. So had Henrich Wetter, head clerk and cashier in the bank of -Monsieur Krebs aforesaid--a tall, fair, lymphatic young man, who until -his acquaintance with Pauline, had thought of nothing but Vaterland -and the first of exchange, but who professed himself ready to become -naturalised as a Frenchman, and to take up his abode for life in -Marseilles, if she would only listen to his suit. So had Frank -Jenkins, attached to the British post-office, and in that capacity -bringing the Indian mails from London to Marseilles, embarking them on -board the Peninsular and Oriental steamer, and waiting the arrival of -the return mail which carried them back to England--a big, jolly, -massive creature, well known to everybody in the town as Monsieur -Jenkins, or the "courrier anglais," who had a bedroom at the Hôtel de -Paradis, but who spent the whole of his time at the Restaurant du -Midi, drinking beer or brandy or absinthe--it was all the same to -him--to keep the landlord "square," as he phrased it, but never taking -his eyes off the dame du comptoir, and never losing an opportunity of -paying her the most outrageous compliments in the most outrageous -French ever heard even in that city of polyglot speech. - -If Pauline Lunelle had a tenderness for any of them, it was for the -sous-lieutenant; at the Englishman, and indeed at a great many -others--Frenchmen, commis-voyageurs, tradesmen in the city, or clerks -in the merchants' offices on the Quai--she laughed unmercifully; not -to their faces, indeed--that would have been bad for business, and -Pauline throughout her life had the keenest eye to her own benefit. -Her worth as a decoy-duck was so fully appreciated by Monsieur -Etienne, the proprietor of the restaurant, that she had insisted upon -receiving a commission on all moneys paid by those whose visits -thither were unquestionably due to her attraction. But when they had -retired for the night, the little top bedroom which she occupied in -conjunction with Mademoiselle Mathilde would ring with laughter, -caused by her repetition of the sweet things which had been said to -her during the evening by her admirers, and her imitations of the -manner and accents in which they had been delivered. So Adolphe de -Noailles had it all his own way, and Pauline had seriously debated -within herself whether she should not let him run the risk of -offending his family and marrying him out of hand (the disappointment -to be occasioned thereby to Mademoiselle Krebs, a haughty and -purse-proud young lady, being one of her keenest incentives to the -act), when another character appeared upon the scene. - -This was another Englishman, but in every way as different as possible -to poor Mr. Jenkins--not merely speaking French like a Parisian, but -salting his conversation with a vast amount of Parisian idiomatic -slang, full of fun and wild practical jokes, impervious to ridicule, -impossible to be put down, and spending his money in the most lavish -and free-handed manner possible. This was Tom Durham, who had suddenly -turned up in Marseilles, no one knew why. He had been to Malta, he -said, on a "venture," and the venture had turned out favourably, and -he was going back to England, and had determined to enjoy himself by -the way. He was constantly at the Restaurant du Midi, paid immense -attention to the dame du comptoir, and she in her turn was fascinated -by his good temper, his generous ways, his strange eccentric -goings-on. But Tom Durham, laughing, drinking, and spending his money, -was the same cool observant creature that he had been ever since he -shipped as 'prentice on board the Gloucestershire, when he was fifteen -years of age. All the time of his sojourn at the Restaurant du Midi he -was carefully "taking stock," as he called it, of Pauline Lunelle. In -his various schemes he had long felt the want of a female accomplice, -and he thought he had at last found the person whom he had for some -time been seeking. That she was worldly-wise he knew, or she would -never have achieved the position which she held in Monsieur Etienne's -establishment; that there was far more in her than she had ever yet -given proof of he believed; for Mr. Tom Durham was a strong believer -in physiognomy, and had more than once found the study of some use to -him. Sipping his lemonade-and-cognac and puffing at his cigar, he sat -night after night talking pleasantly with any chance acquaintance, but -inwardly studying Pauline Lunelle; and when his studies were -completed, he had made up his mind that he saw in her a wonderful -mixture of headstrong passion and calm common sense, unscrupulous, -fearless, devoted, and capable of carrying out anything, no matter -what, which she had once made up her mind to perform. "A tameable -tiger, in point of fact," said Tom Durham to himself as he stepped out -into the street and picked his way across the filthy gutters towards -his home; "and if only kept in proper subjection, capable of being -made anything of." He knew there was only one way by which Pauline -could be secured, and he made up his mind to propose to her the next -night. - -He proposed accordingly; but Pauline begged for four-and-twenty hours -to consider her decision, and in the early morning went out into the -Prado to think it all through, and deliberately to weigh the merits of -the propositions made respectively by Adolphe de Noailles and Tom -Durham; the result being that the sous-lieutenant's hopes were crushed -for ever--or for fully a fortnight, when they blossomed in another -direction--and that Pauline, dame du comptoir no longer, linked her -fate with that of Tom Durham. Thenceforward they were all in all to -each other. She had no relatives, nor, as he told her, had he. "I have -not seen Alice for five years," he said to himself; "and from what I -recollect of her, she was a stuck-up, straitlaced little minx, likely -to look down upon my young friend the tiger here, and give herself -airs which the tiger certainly would not understand; so, as they are -not likely to come together, it will be better to ignore her existence -altogether." In all his crooked schemes, and they were many and -various, Pauline took her share, unflagging, indefatigable, clear in -council, prompt in action, jealous of every word, of every look he -gave to any other woman; at the same time the slave of his love and -the prop and mainstay of his affairs. Tom Durham himself had not that -quality which he imputed to his half-sister; he certainly was not -strait-laced; but his escapades, if he had any, were carefully kept in -the background, and Pauline, suspicious as she was, had never felt any -real ground for jealousy until she had witnessed the scene at parting -at the Southampton station. - -The Prado and its associations had faded out of her mind, and she was -trying to picture to herself the various chances which could possibly -have detained her husband, when a porter halted before her, and -civilly touching his cap, asked for what train she was waiting. - -"The train for Weymouth," she replied. - -"For Weymouth!" echoed the porter; "the train for Weymouth has just -gone." - -"Yes, I know that," said Pauline; "but I was expecting some -one--a gentleman--to meet me. He will probably come in time for the -next." - -"You will have a longish waiting bout," said the man; "next train -don't come till two-forty-five, nigh upon three o'clock." - -"That is long," said Pauline. "And the next?" - -"Only one more after that," said the porter--"eight forty--gets into -Weymouth somewhere between ten and eleven at night. You'll never think -of waiting here, ma'am, for either of them. Better go into the town to -one of the hotels, or have a row on the river, or something to pass -the time." - -"Thank you," said Pauline, to whom a sudden idea had occurred. "How far -is it from here to--how do you call the place--Hurstcastle?" - -"To where, ma'am? O, Hurst Castle. I didn't understand you, you see, -at first--you didn't make two words of it. It is Hurst Castle, where -the king was kept a prisoner--him as had his head cut off--and where -there's a barracks and a telegraph station for the ships now." - -"Yes," she said, "exactly; that's the place. How far is it from here?" - -"Well, it's about seven mile, take it altogether; but you can't drive -all the way. You could have a fly to take you four miles, and he'd -bring you to a boat, and he'd take you in and out down a little river -through the marshes, until you came to a beach, on the other side of -which the castle stands. But, lor' bless me, miss, what's the use o' -going at all, there's nothing to see when you get there?" - -"I wish to go," said Pauline, smiling. "You see, I am a foreigner, and -I want to see where your British king was kept a prisoner. Can I get a -fly here?" - -The porter said he would find her one at once, and speedily redeemed -his promise. - -Through neat villages and wooded lanes Pauline was driven, until she -came to a large, bare, open tract of country, on the borders of which -the fly stopped, and the flyman descending, handed her down some steps -cut in the steep bank, and into an old broad-bottomed boat, where a -grizzled elderly man, with his son, were busy mending an old duck-gun. -They looked up with astonishment when the flyman said, "Lady wants to -go down to have a look at the castle, Jack. I'll wait here, ma'am, -until they bring you back." - -They spread an old jacket for her in the stern of the boat, and when -she was seated, took to their oars and pulled away with a will. It was -a narrow, intricate, winding course, a mere thread of shallow sluggish -water, twisting in and out among the great gray marshes fringed with -tall flapping weeds; and Pauline, already over-excited and -overwrought, was horribly depressed by the scene. - -"Are you always plying in this boat?" she asked the old man. -"Most days, ma'am, in case we should be wanted up at the steps there," -he replied; "but night's our best time, we reckon." - -"Night!" she echoed. "Surely there are no passengers at night-time?" - -"No, ma'am, not passengers, but officers and sportsmen: gentlemen -coming out gunning after the ducks and the wild-fowl," he added, -seeing she looked puzzled, and pointing to a flock of birds feeding at -some distance from them. - -"And are you out every night?" she asked eagerly. - -"Well, not every, but most nights, ma'am." - -"Last night, for example?" - -"Yes, miss, we was out, me and Harry here, not with any customers, but -by ourselves; a main dark night it was too; but we hadn't bad sport, -considering." - -"Did you--did you meet any one else between this and Hurst Castle?" - -"Well, no, ma'am," said the old man with a low chuckle. "It ain't a -place where one meets many people, I reckon. Besides the ducks, a -heron or two was about the strangest visitors we saw last night. Now, -miss, here we are at the beach; you go straight up there, and you'll -find the castle just the other side. When you come back, please shape -your course for that black stump you see sticking up there; tide's -falling, and we sha'n't be able to bide where we are now, but we will -meet you there." - -Lightly touching the old man's arm, Pauline jumped from the boat, and -rapidly ascending the sloping head, found herself, on gaining the top, -close by a one-storied, whitewashed cottage, in a little bit of -reclaimed land, half garden, half yard, in which was a man in his -shirt-sleeves washing vegetables, with a big black retriever dog lying -at his feet. Accosting him, Pauline learned that the house was the -telegraph station, whence the names of the outgoing and incoming ships -are telegraphed to Lloyd's for the information of their owners. In the -course of farther conversation the man said that the Masilia had -anchored there during the night, had got her steam up and was off by -daybreak; he took watch and watch with his comrade, and he turned out -just in time to see her start. - -Pauline thanked him and returned to the boat; but she did not speak to -the old man on her return passage; and when she reached the fly which -was waiting for her, she threw herself into a corner and remained -buried in thought until she was deposited at the station. - -A few minutes after, the train bound for Weymouth arrived. Through -confusion similar to that of the morning she hurried along, -criticising the passengers on the platform and in the carriage, and -with the same vain result. The train proceeded on its way, and Pauline -walked towards the hotel with the intention of getting some -refreshment, which she needed. Suddenly she paused, reeled, and would -have fallen, had she not leant against a wall for support. A thought -like an arrow had passed through her brain--a thought which found its -utterance in these words: - -"It is a trick, a vile trick from first to last! He has deceived -me--he never intended to meet me, to take me to Weymouth or to -Guernsey! It was merely a trick to keep me occupied and to put me off -while he rejoined that woman!" - - - - -CHAPTER V. -A LITTLE PARADISE. - - -The place which Alice Claxton called her home, of which she was sole -mistress, and which she dearly loved, was situate at Hendon. An -old-fashioned, dreamy, by-gone kind of village, which, in these latter -days, the Midland Railway has discovered to be a metropolitan suburb, -and, as such, has brought it into vogue. Until within a very few -years, however, it was one of the quietest places in England, visited -occasionally in the summer by a few people from town, who found that -Hampstead had been already almost swallowed up in bricks and mortar, -and who extended their outing to get a little fresher air, and to -enjoy the lovely view from Hendon Church. But its inhabitants -generally were nothing-doing sort of people, bred and born in the -parish, who preferred vegetating on an income which enabled them to -keep a pony-chaise, and gave them perpetual leisure for pottering in -their gardens, rather than adventuring their little capital, in -speculations which might be disastrous, and which undoubtedly would be -questionable. - -The house where Alice Claxton lived was on the right-hand side of the -way as you turn from the little main street of the village towards the -church. There is no use in looking for it now; it has been pulled -down, and on its site have been erected two brand-new stucco villas, -with plate-glass windows and brass door-knockers, high flights of -door-steps with a stone pine-apple on either side, and long strips of -garden before and behind, which the landscape-gardener's art has -decorated with beds in the shape of pears, and hearts, and crosses, -and various other elegant and appropriate designs. But in Alice's days -it was a long, low-roofed, one-storied house, built of bricks of a -comfortable warm ruddiness, without being glaringly red, and covered -all over with a splendid Virginia creeper, which at this autumnal time -was just assuming its loveliest hue. The rooms on the ground-floor -were large, with rather low ceilings, and opening with French windows -on a little paved terrace verandah-covered. It had been John Claxton's -delight to suit the fittings and the furniture to the place for which -they were destined. No modern stoves were to be found throughout it, -but open fire-places inlaid with tiles, and iron dogs; the high-backed -chairs, the broad table, and the heavy sideboard of the dining-room, -were all in antique black oak; but in the drawing-room he had -endeavoured to consult what he conjectured to be his wife's fancy, and -the Venetian mirrors on the walls reflected the sheen of green silk -and gold, with which the low quaint chairs and sofa and ottoman were -covered, and produced endless repetitions of numerous tasteful -specimens of glass and china with which the various étagères and -whatnots were liberally covered. Alice, who before her marriage had -been governess to the children of a Quaker wine-merchant in York, -whose drab furniture had done good service during three generations, -clapped her hands in childish delight at the first glimpse of her new -home, and immediately afterwards turning round, reproved her husband -for his extravagance. But John Claxton, catching her in his arms, -declared that it was only a little nest just fitted for his bright, -shining, sweet little bird, and he earnestly prayed that she might be -happy in it. - -And she was happy; so happy that she sometimes felt her happiness was -too great to be lasting, and that some reverse of fortune must be in -store for her. But these flights of depression only happened when John -was away on his business tours, and then only during the first half of -his absence, for during the second she was busy in contemplating his -return, and in devising all kinds of little expedients to show how -welcome he was. See her now on this bright October evening, so neatly -and becomingly dressed in her tightly-fitting mouse-coloured velveteen -gown, fastened round the waist by a narrow black-leather belt and -buckle, with a linen collar round her pretty throat, and linen cuffs -showing off her small white hands. She had filled every available -ornament with the remnants of the summer garden produce, the last of -the monthly roses, and the scarlet geraniums and calceolarias, and the -earliest of the autumnal crop of dahlias, china-asters, and -chrysanthemums. The air was chill without, but within the light from -the wood logs flickered brightly on the plate and glass set on the -snowy tablecloth, in anticipation of dinner, and the odour of the -burning beech-wood was home-like and comforting. After giving a -finishing touch to her flowers in the drawing-room, and again peeping -into the dining-room to see that all was right and ready, Alice would -open the glazed door and peer out into the darkness, would bend her -head in eager listening for the sound of wheels entering the -carriage-drive. After two or three experiments her patience was -rewarded. First she heard the clanging of the closing gate, then the -sound of the rapidly approaching carriage, and the next minute she was -in her husband's arms. - -"Now come in, John, at once, out of that bitter wind," she cried, as -soon as she was released, which was not for a minute or two; "it is -enough to cut you in two. It has been sighing and moaning round the -house all day, and I am sure I was thankful that you were coining home -and hadn't to go any sea-voyages or other dreadful things." - -"Thank you, my darling, I am all right, I shall do very well now," -said John Claxton, in a chirping, cheery voice. - -Why had Tom Durham called him old? There was a round bald place on the -crown of his head to be sure, and such of his hair as remained and his -whiskers were streaked with gray; the lines round his eyes and mouth -were somewhat deeply graven, and the brow was heavy and thoughtful, -but his bright blue eyes were full of life and merriment, the tones of -his voice were blithe and musical, his slight wiry figure, though a -very little bowed and stooping, was as iron in its hardness; and when -away from business he was as full of animal spirits and fun as any -boy. - -"I am all right, my darling," he repeated, as, after taking off his -hat and coat, he went with her into the dining-room; "though I know it -is by no means prudent to stand in draughts, especially for people of -my age." - -"Now, John," cried Alice, with uplifted forefinger, "are you going to -begin that nonsense directly you come into the house? You know how -often I have told you that subject is tabooed, and yet you have -scarcely opened your lips before you mention it." - -"Well, my dear," said John Claxton, passing his arm round her and -drawing her closely to him, "you know I have an age as well as other -people, and a good deal more than a great many, I am sorry to say; -talking of it won't make it any worse, you know, Alley; though you may -argue that it won't make it any better." - -"Silence!" she cried, stopping his speech by placing her hand upon his -mouth. "I don't care whether it makes it better or worse, or whether -it doesn't make it anything at all; I only know I won't have it -mentioned here. Your age, indeed! What on earth should I do with you -if you were a dandy in a short jacket, with a little cane; or a great -hulking fellow in a tawny beard, such as one reads of in the novels?" - -"I have not the least idea, Alley; but I daresay you would manage to -spare some of your sweet love and kindness for me if I were either of -the specimens you have mentioned. As I am neither, perhaps you will -allow me to change my coat and wash my hands before dinner." - -"That you shall do. You will find everything ready for you; and as you -have had a long journey, and it is the first time of your return, I -insist on your availing yourself of the privilege which I gave you on -such occasions, and on your coming down in your shooting-coat and -slippers, and making yourself comfortable, John dear; and don't be -long, for we have your favourite dinner." - -When Mr. Claxton appeared in the dining-room, having changed his coat -for a velvet shooting-jacket, and his boots for a pair of embroidered -slippers, his wife's handiwork; having washed his hands and brushed-up -his hair, and given himself quite a festive appearance, he found the -soup already on he table. - -"You are late, as usual, John," cried Alice, as he seated himself. - -"I went to speak to Bell, dear," replied John Claxton; "but nurse -motioned to me that she was asleep; so I crept up as lightly as I -could to her little bedside, and bent down and kissed, her cheek. She -is quite well, I hope, dear, but her face looked a little flushed and -feverish." - -"There is nothing the matter with her, dear, beyond a little -over-excitement and fatigue. She has been with me all day, in the -greatest state of delight at the prospect of your return, helping me -to cut and arrange the flowers, to get out the wine, and go through -all the little household duties. I promised her she should sit up to -see her papa; but little fairies of three or four years of age have -not much stamina, and long before the time of your return she was -dropping with sleep." - -"Poor little pet! Sleep is more beneficial to her than the sight of me -would have been, though I have not forgotten to bring the doll and the -chocolate creams I promised her. However, the presentation of those -will do well enough to-morrow." - -The dinner was good, cosey, and delightful. They did not keep the -servant in the room to wait upon them, but helped themselves and each -other. When the cloth was removed, Alice drew her chair close to her -husband, and according to regular practice poured out for him his -first glass of wine. - -"Your own particular Madeira, John," she said; "the wine that your old -friend Mr. Calverley sent you when we were first married. By the way, -John, I have often wanted to ask you what you drink at the hotels and -the horrible places you go to when you are away--not Madeira, I am -certain." - -"No, dear, not Madeira," said John Claxton, fondly patting her cheek; -"wine, beer, grog--different things at different times." - -"Yes, but you never get anything so good as this, confess that?" - -"Nothing that I enjoy so much, certainly; whether it is the wine, or -the company in which the wine is drunk, I leave you to guess." - -"O, it is the wine, I am sure! there is no such other wine in the -world, unless Mr. Calverley has some himself. There now, talking -of Mr. Calverley reminds me that you never have asked about -Tom--about Tom, John--are you attending to what I say?" - -"I beg your pardon, dear," said John Claxton, looking upward with -rather a flushed face, and emptying his glass at a draught. "I confess -my thoughts were wandering towards a little matter of business which -had just flashed across me." - -"You must put aside all business when you come here; that was a rule -which I laid down at first, and I insist on its being adhered to. I -was telling you about Tom, my brother, you know." - -"Yes, dear, yes, I know--you went to Southampton to see him off." - -"Yes, John; that is to say, I went to Southampton and I saw him there, -but I did not actually see him off--that is, see him sail, you know." - -"Why, Alice, you went to Southampton for the express purpose!" - -"Yes, John, I know; but, you see, the trains did not suit, and Tom -thought I had better not wait; so I left him just an hour or two -before the steamer started." - -"I suppose he _did_ go," said John Claxton anxiously; "there is no -doubt about that, I hope?" - -"Not the least in the world, not the smallest doubt. To tell you the -truth, John, I was rather anxious about it myself, knowing that Tom -had the two thousand pounds which you sent him by me, you dear, kind, -good fellow, and that he is--well, perhaps not quite so reliable as he -might be--but I looked in the newspaper the next day, and saw his name -as agent to Calverley and Company among the list of outgoing -passengers." - -"Did he seem tolerably contented, Alice?" - -"O, yes, John; he went away in great spirits. I am in hopes that he -will settle down now, and become a steady and respectable member of -society. He has plenty of talent, I think, John, don't you?" - -"Your brother has plenty of sharp, shrewd insight into character, and -knowledge of the wickedness of the world, Alice," said Mr. Claxton -somewhat bitterly; "these are not bad as stock-in-trade for a man of -his nature, and I have no doubt they will serve his turn." - -"Why, John," said Alice, with head upturned to look at him more -closely, "how cynically you are speaking! Are you not well, dear?" - -"Quite well, Alice. Why do you ask?" - -"Your face is rather flushed, dear, and there is a strange look in -your eyes, such as I have never noticed before. O, John! I am certain -you work too hard, and all this travelling is too much for you. When -will you give it up?" - -"When I see my way to settling down here in peace and comfort with -you, my darling, and little Bell. Depend upon it, when that -opportunity comes I shall grasp it eagerly enough." - -"And when will it come, John?" - -"That, my child, it is impossible to say; it may come sooner than we -expect; I hope it will, I'm sure. It is the one thing now, at the -close of my life, left me to look forward to." - -"Don't talk about the close of your life in that wicked way, John. I -am sure if you only take care of yourself when you are away on those -journeys, and mind that your bed is always aired, and see that you -have proper food, there is no question about the close of your life -until you have seen little Bell grown up into a marriageable young -woman." - -"Poor little Bell," said John Claxton, with a grave smile; "dear -little Bell. I don't think we did wrongly, Alice, in adopting this -little fatherless, motherless waif?" - -"Wrong, indeed! I should think not," said Alice quickly. "Even from a -selfish point of view it was one of the best things we ever did in our -lives. See what a companion she is to me while you are away; see how -the time which I have to spare after attending to the house, and my -garden, and my reading, and my music, and all those things which you -insist upon my doing, John, and which I really go through -conscientiously every day; see how the spare time, which might be -dull, is filled up in dressing her, and teaching her, and listening to -her sweet little prattle. Do you think we shall ever find out whose -child she was, John?" - -"No, dear, I should say not. You have the clothes which she had on, -and the little gold cross that was found round the mother's neck after -her death; it is as well to keep them in case any search should be -made after the child, though the probability of that is very remote." - -"We should not give Bell up, whatever search might be made, should we, -John?" said Alice quickly. "The poor mother is dead, and the search -could only originate with the father, and it is not likely that after -leaving the mother of his child to die in a workhouse bed, he will -have any long-deferred stings of conscience to make him inquire as to -what has become of her offspring. O, John when I think of the -wickedness that goes on in the world, through men, John, through men -alone--for women are but what men choose to make them--I am so -thankful that it was given to me to win the honest, noble love of an -honourable man, and to be removed in good time from the temptations -assailing a girl in the position which I occupied. Now, John, no more -wine!" - -"Yes," he cried, "give it to me quickly, full, full to the brim, -Alice. There!" he said, as he drained it; "I am better now; I wanted -some extra stimulant to-night; I suppose I am knocked-up by my -journey." - -"Your face was as pale then as it was flushed before, John. I shall -take upon myself to nurse you; and you shall not leave home again -until you are quite recovered, whatever Mr. Calverley may say. You -should have him here, some day, John, and let me talk to him. I -warrant I would soon bring him round to my way of thinking." - -"Your ways are sufficiently coaxing to do that with anybody, Alice," -said John Claxton, with a faint smile; "but never mind Mr. Calverley -just now; what were we saying before?" - -"I was saying how pleased I was to be removed from the temptations to -which a girl in the position which I held is always exposed." - -"No," said Claxton, "I don't mean that--before." - -"Yes, yes," said Alice, "I insist upon talking about these old times, -John; you never will, and I have no one else who knows anything about -them, or can discuss them with me. Now, do you recollect," she -continued, nestling closer to him, "the first time you saw me?" - -"Recollect it! As you were then, I can see you now." - -"And so can I you; you are not altered an atom. You were standing at a -bookstall in Low Ousegate, just beyond the bridge, looking into a -book; and as I passed by with the two little Prestons you raised your -eyes from the book, and stared at me so hard, and yet so gravely, that -I--" - -"That you were quite delighted," said John Claxton, putting his arm -round her; "you know that; so don't attempt a bashfulness which is -foreign to your nature, but confess at once." - -"I decline to confess any such thing," said Alice. "Of course I was in -the habit of being stared at by the officers and the young men of the -town. Come now, there is the return blow for your impertinent hit just -now; but one scarcely expects to create an impression on people whom -one finds glazing over bookstalls." - -"Elderly people, you should have said, Alice." - -"Elderly people, I will say, John, if it pleases you. Much less does -one expect to see them lay down the hook, and come sailing up the -street after one in direct pursuit." - -"O, you saw that, did you, miss? You never told me that before." - -"Saw it, of course I saw it; what woman ever misses anything of that -kind? At a distance you tracked me straight to Mr. Preston's door; saw -me and my little charges safely inside; and then turned on your heel -and walked away." - -"While you went up to your room and sat down before your glass, -admiring your own charms, and thinking of the dashing young cavalier -whose attention you had just attracted. Was that it?" said John. - -"Nothing of the sort; though I don't mind confessing that I did wonder -whether I should ever see you again. And then, two days after, when -Mrs. Preston told me to take the little girls into the drawing-room in -the evening, and to be sure that they practised thoroughly some piece -which they would be called upon to play, as there was a gentleman -coming to dinner who doated on little children, how could I have the -slightest idea that this benevolent Mr. Claxton was to be my friend of -the Low Ousegate bookstall? And yet you scarcely spoke to me once -during that evening, I remember." - -"That was my diplomacy, my child; but I paid great attention to Mrs. -Preston, and was very favourably received by her." - -"Yes; I heard Mr. Preston say to Mr. Arthur, as they stood behind the -piano, 'He's of the house of Calverley and Company of Mincing-lane. -Thee hast heard of it? Its transactions are enormous.'" - -"And I won Mr. Preston's heart by a good order for wine," said -John Claxton; "and then I threw off all disguise, and I am afraid -made it clear that I had only made his acquaintance for the sake -of paying court to his governess." - -"You need have very little delicacy in that matter, John," said Alice. -"Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Preston had the slightest interest in me, and -when I left they cared not what became of me. I suited them as a -governess, and they were angry when I first told them I was going -away; but when they saw that I had fully made up my mind, their sole -thought was how best to supply my place. As to what became of me, that -was no concern of theirs." - -"No," said John Claxton, whose colour had returned, and who seemed to -have regained his ordinary composure, "no concern perhaps of either Mr. -or Mrs. Preston; but what about the young gentleman you mentioned just -now, Alice--Mr. Preston's nephew, Mr. Arthur, as he was called? Your -decision as to the future course of life you intended to adopt was not -quite so immaterial to him, was it, child?" - -"What do you mean, John?" said Alice, looking down, as the blood began -to mount into her cheeks. - -"You know well enough what I mean, child--exactly what I say. Mr. -Arthur Preston took great interest in you--was in love with you, in -point of fact. Is not that so?" - -"He said so, John; but his actions belied his words. No man who had -any real honest love--nay, more, I will go farther, and say respect, -for a girl--could have spoken or acted towards me as he did." - -"Why, Alice," said John Claxton, looking with surprise at her flushed -cheeks, "you never told me anything of this before. Why have you kept -it secret from me?" - -"Because I know, John," said Alice, laying her hand upon his shoulder, -"that, however outwardly calm and quiet you may appear to be, however -sensible and practical you are in most matters, you have a temper -which, when anything touching my honour or my dignity is involved, is -quite beyond your control. I have seen its effects before, John, and I -dreaded any repetition of them." - -"Then why do you tell me now?" - -"Because we are far away from York, John, and from Arthur Preston and -his friends, and there is no likelihood of our seeing any of them -again; so that I know your temper can be trusted safely now, John; -for, however much it may desire to break out, it will find no object -on which to vent itself." - -"This conversation and conduct, then, of Mr. Arthur Preston were -matters, I am to understand, in which your honour and dignity were -involved, Alice?" - -"To a certain extent, John, yes," faltered Alice. - -"I should like to know what they were," said John Claxton. "I put no -compulsion on you to tell me. I have never asked you since our -marriage to tell me anything of your previous life; but I confess I -should like to know about this." - -"I will tell you, John," said Alice; "I always intended to do so. It -is the only thing I have kept back from you; and often and often, -while you have been away, have I thought, if anything happened to you -or to me--if either of us were to die, I mean, John--how grieved I -should be that I had not told you of this matter. Arthur Preston -pretended he loved me; but he could not have done so really. No man -who is wicked and base can know what real love is, John; and Arthur -Preston was both. Some little time before I knew you, he made love to -me--fierce, violent love. I had not seen you then, John; I had -scarcely seen any one. I was an unsophisticated country girl, and I -judged of the reality of his love by the warmth of his professions, -and told him I would marry him. I shall never forget that scene. It -was one summer's evening, on the river bank just abreast of -Bishopthorpe. When I mentioned marriage he almost laughed, and then he -told me, in a cynical sneering way, that he never intended to be -married unless he could find some one with a large fortune, or with -peculiar means of extending his uncle's business when he inherited it; -but that meanwhile he would give me the prettiest house within twenty -miles. I need not go on. He would not make me his wife, but he offered -to make me his mistress. Was it not unmanly in him, John? Was it not -base and cowardly?" - -She stopped and looked at her husband. But John Claxton, whose face -had become pale again, his chin resting on his hand, and his eyes -glaring into the fire, made her no reply. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -A SAFE INVESTMENT. - - -"The second-floor front have come in, Ben," said Mrs. Mogg, of 19A -Poland-street, as she opened the door to her husband on a wet -and windy autumnal evening; "she have come and brought her -luggage--a green carpet-bag with a poll-parrot worked on it, and a -foreign-looking bandbox tied up in a handkerchief. She's French, Ben, -that's what she is." - -"Is she?" said Mr. Mogg shortly. "Well, I'm hungry, that's what I am; -so get me my tea." - -He had had a long and dirty walk home from the West-India Docks, where -he was employed as a warehouseman, and chattering in a windy passage -about his wife's lodger scarcely seemed to him the most desirable way -of employing his first moments at home. - -But after dispatching two large breakfast-cups of tea, and several -rounds Of hot salt-buttered toast, from which the crust had been -carefully cut away, Mr. Mogg was somewhat mollified, and wiping his -mouth and fingers on the dirty tablecloth, felt himself in cue to -resume the conversation. - -"O, the new second-floor has come, Martha, has she?" he commenced; "and -she's French, you think. Well," continued Mr. Mogg, who was naturally -rather slow in bringing his ideas into focus, "Dickson may or may not -be a French name. That it's an English one, we all know; but that's no -reason that it should not be a French one too, there being, as is well -known, several words which are the same in both languages." - -"She wrote down 'P. Dickson' when she came to take the rooms this -morning, and I see P. D. worked on her purse when she took it out to -pay the first week's rent in advance," said Mrs. Mogg. - -"Then it's clear enough her name is Dickson," said Mr. Mogg, with a -singular facility of reasoning. "What should you say she was, now, -Martha--you're good at reckoning 'em up, you are--what is the -second-floor front, should you say?" - -"Either a gov'ness or a lady's-maid out of place," said Mrs. Mogg -decisively. "I thought she was a gov'ness until I see the sovereigns in -her purse, and then made up my mind she was a lady's-maid as had given -up her place either through a death, or the family going abroad or -giving up housekeeping; and these were the sovereigns which she had -just got from the wardrobe-shop for the perquisites and etceteras -which she had brought away with her." - -"You're a clear-headed one, you are," said Mr. Mogg, looking at his -wife with great delight. "Has she had anything to eat?" - -"O yes," said Mrs. Mogg, giggling with some asperity; "she brought a -lettice in with her, I suppose; for when I went up to ask her whether -I should get-in any little trifle for breakfast, I found her eating of -it, and dropping some lumps of sugar into a tumbler of water." - -"Well, that's beastly," said Mr. Mogg. "These foreigners are disgusting -in their ways, one always heard; but how did you make her understand -you about breakfast?" - -"Lor' bless yer, man, she speaks English first-rate--so well, that -when I first see her, I thought she was a countrywoman of mine from -Norfolk." - - -"Well, so long as she pays regularly, and don't stop out late at night, -it don't matter to us where she comes from," said Mr. Mogg, stretching -out his arms and indulging in a hearty yawn. "Now, Martha, get me my -pipe; and when you have cleared these things away, come and sit down, -and let's have a quiet talk about how we are to get rid of the German -teacher in the back attic." - -The newly-arrived tenant of the second floor, whom these worthies in -the kitchen were thus discussing, was walking up and down her room in -much the same manner as she had paced the platform at Lymington or the -Prado at Marseilles. It was very lucky that the occupant of the -drawing-room---a gentleman who taught noblemen and senators the art of -declamation--had not on that evening one of his usual classes, in -which budding orators were accustomed to deliver Mark Antony's speech -over the sofa-pillow transformed for the nonce into the dead body of -Caesar, and where, to encourage his pupils, the professor would set -forth that his name was Norval, and proceed to bewail the bucolic -disposition of his parent, or the grinding sound of the heels above -would have sadly interfered with the lesson. It was well that Pauline -was not interrupted; for the demon of rage and jealousy was at work -within her. The burning shame consequent on the belief that she had -been deceived and made a fool of nearly maddened her; and as every -phase of the deceit to which she now imagined she had fallen so ready -a victim rose before her mind, she clasped her arms above her head and -groaned aloud. - -"To think," she cried, "that I, who had known him so long and so -intimately--I, who had been his companion in his plottings and -intrigues, who had sat by, night after night and day after day, -watching the patience and skill with which he prepared the pitfalls -for others,--that I should be so blind, so weak, so besotted, as to -fall into them myself! Lies from the first, and lie upon lie! A lie to -the man Calverley, whose agent he pretended he would be; a lie to the -old man Claxton, who obtained the place for him, and sent him the -money by the pale-faced woman; then a lie to me,--a cleverer kind of -lie, a lie involving some tracasserie, for I am not one to be deceived -in the ordinary manner. To me he admitted he intended playing false -with the others; and now I am reckoned among those whom he has -hoodwinked and befooled! - -"The notion that came across me at that place! It must be true! He -never meant to come there; he sent me on a fool's errand, and he would -never be within miles of the spot. The whole thing was a trick, a -well-planned trick, from the first; well-planned, and so plausible -too! The flight to Weymouth, then to Guernsey; hours of departure of -trains and steamer all noted and arranged. What a cunning rogue! What -a long-headed plausible rascal! And the money, the two thousand pounds ---many would be deceived by that. He thought I would argue that if he -had intended to leave me, he never would have handed over to me those -bank-notes. - -"But I know him better. He is a vaurien, swindler, liar; but though I -suppose he never loved me in the way that other people understand -love, I have been useful to him, and he has become used to me; so -used, that he cannot bear to think of me in misery or want. So he gave -me the money to set his mind at ease, that my reproachful figure -should not rise between him and his new-found happiness. Does he think -that money can compensate me for the mental agony that I shall suffer -always, that I suffer now? Does he think that it will salve my wounded -pride, that it will do away with the misery and degradation I feel? -And having been cheated by a shallow artifice, will money deprive me -of my memory, and stop the current of my thoughts? Because I shall not -starve, can money bereave me of my fancies, or keep away mental -pictures it will drive me mad to contemplate? I can see them all now; -can see him with her; can hear the very phrases he will use, and can -imagine his manner when he talks of love to her. How short a time it -seems since I listened to those burning words from the same lips! How -well I remember each incident in the happy journey from Marseilles, -the pleasant days at Genoa, the long stay at Florence! Where has he -gone now, I wonder? To what haunt of luxury and ease has he taken his -new toy? Fool that I am to remain here dreaming and speculating, when -I want to know, when I must know! I must and will find out where they -are; and then quickness, energy, perseverance--he has praised them -more than once when they served him--shall be brought into play to -work his ruin." - -At this point in her train of thought Pauline was interrupted by a -knock at the door of her room. Starting at the sound, she raised her -head and listened eagerly; but whatever fancy she may have indulged in -as to the idea as to who might be her visitor, was speedily dispelled -by hearing the short sniff and the apologetic cough with which Mrs. -Mogg was wont to herald her arrival; and being bade to come in, that -worthy woman made her appearance, smiling graciously. It was Mrs. -Mogg's habit to fill up such leisure as her own normal labour and -active superintendence of the one domestic slave of the household, -known as "Melia," permitted her, in paying complimentary calls upon -her various lodgers, apparently with the view of looking after their -comforts and tendering her services, but really with the intention of -what she called "taking stock" of their circumstances, and making -herself acquainted with any peculiarities likely, in her idea, to -affect the question of her rent. Having thoroughly discussed with her -husband the possibility of getting rid of the German teacher, and it -being pleasantly arranged between them that the unfortunate linguist -was to be decoyed into the street at as early a period as possible on -the ensuing morning, and then and there locked out, his one miserable -little portmanteau being detained as a hostage, Mrs. Mogg was in -excellent spirits, and determined to make herself agreeable to her new -lodger. - -"Good evening, ma'am," she commenced; "time being getting late, and -this being your first night under our humble roof, I took the liberty -of looking in to see if things was comfortable, or there was anything -in the way of a Child's night-light or that, you might require." - -Almost wearied out with the weight of the wretched thoughts over -which, for the last forty-eight hours, she had been brooding, Pauline -felt the relief even of this interruption, and answered graciously -and with as much cheerfulness as she could assume. "The room was -comfortable," she said, "and there was nothing she required; but -would not madame sit down? She seemed to be always hard at work, and -must be tired after climbing those steep stairs. Perhaps she would not -object to a little refreshment?" - -Mrs. Mogg's eyes gleamed as from her neat hand-bag Pauline produced a -small silver flask, and pouring some of its contents into a tumbler, -handed the water-bottle to her landlady, to mix for herself. - -"Thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Mogg, seating herself on one of the two -rush-bottomed chairs, and smoothing her apron over her lap with both -her hands. "It is a pull up the stairs after one's been hard at it all -day, and a little drop of comfort like this does one no harm, whatever -they may say against it, more especially when it's like this, and not -the vitriol and mahogany-shavings which they sell by the quartern at -the Goldsmith's Arms. You didn't bring this from France with you, did -you, ma'm?" - -"O no," said Pauline, with a half smile. "It is a long time since I -left France." - -"Ah, so I should think," said Mrs. Mogg, "by your civilised ways of -going on, let alone your speaking our language so capital. Mogg, -meaning my husband, was in France once, at Boolong, with the -Foresters' excursion, and thought very high of the living he got -during the two hours he was there." - -"Ah, you have a husband," said Pauline, beginning to lapse into -dreariness. - -"O yes, ma'am, and as good a husband as woman could wish, a -hard-working man, and taking no holidays save with the Foresters to -the Crystal Palace, Easter Mondays, and suchlike. He's in the docks is -Mogg." - -"In the docks," said Pauline; "he would know, then, all about ships?" - -"O no, ma'am," said Mrs. Mogg, with a slight toss of the head; "that's -the Katherine's Docks you are thinking of where the General Steam goes -from. Hogg is in the West-Injia Docks: he's in the sale-room--horns -and hides, and other foreign produce." - -"Then he has nothing to do with ships?" - -"Nothing at all, ma'am. It would be easier work for him if he had, -though more outdoor work; but his is terrible hard work, more -especially on sale days. He's regular tired out to-night, poor man; -for to-day has been a sale day, and Mogg was at it from morning till -night, attending to Mr. Calverley's consignments." - -"Mr. Calverley!" cried Pauline, roused at last; "do you know him?" - -"O no, not I, ma'am," said the landlady, "only through hearing of him -from Mogg. He's one of the largest merchants in horns and hides is Mr. -Calverley, and there is never a shipload comes in but he takes most of -it. Mogg has done business for him--leastways for the house, for when -Mogg knew it first Mr. Calverley was only a clerk there--for the last -thirty years." - -"Is Mr. Calverley married?" - -"O yes, ma'am. He married Mrs. Gurwood, which was Miss Lorraine -before she married Mr. Gurwood, who killed himself with drink and -carryings-on. A pious lady, Mrs. Calverley, though haughty and -stand-offish, and, they do say, keeping Mr. C.'s nose to the -grindstone close." - -"And Mr. Calverley, what is he like?" - -"Not much to look at, ma'am, but the kindest and the best of men. My -nephew Joe is light-porter in their house; and the way in which Mr. -Calverley behaves to him--half-holiday here, half-a-crown there, -Christmas-boxes regular, and cold meat and beer whenever he goes up to -the house--no tongue can tell. Likewise most bountiful to Injuns and -foreigners of all kinds, Spaniards and that like, providing for -children and orphans, and getting them into hospitals, or giving them -money to go back to their own country." - -"Where is Mr. Calverley's address--his business address; his office I -mean?" - -"In Mincing-lane, in the City, ma'am. It's as well known as the Bank -of England, or the West-Injia Docks themselves. May I make so bold as -to inquire what you want with Mr. Calverley, ma'am?" said Mrs. Mogg, -whose curiosity, stimulated by the brandy-and-water, was fast getting -the better of her discretion; "if it's anything in the horn and hide -way," she added, as the notion of something to be made on commission -crossed her mind, "I am sure anything that Mogg could do he would be -most happy." - -"No, thank you," said Pauline coldly; "my inquiry had nothing to do -with business." - -And shortly after, Mrs. Mogg, seeing that her lodger had relapsed into -thought, and had replaced the silver flask in her hand-bag, took her -departure. - -"What that Frenchwoman can want with Mr. Calverley," said she to her -husband, after she had narrated to him the above conversation, "is more -than I can think; his name came up quite promiscuous, and she never -stopped talking about him while I was there. She'd have gone on -gossiping till now, but I had my work to do, and told her so, and came -away." - -Mrs. Mogg's curiosity was not responded to by her husband; a man -naturally reticent, and given in the interval between his supper and -his bed to silent pipe-smoking. "They're a rum lot, foreigners," he -said; and after that he spoke no more. - -Meanwhile Pauline, left to herself, at once resumed the tiger-like -pacing of her room. "I must not lose sight," she said, "of any clue -which is likely to serve me. Where he is, she will be; and until I -have found them both, and made them feel what it is to attempt to play -the fool with me, I shall not rest satisfied. I must find means to -become acquainted with this Calverley; for sooner or later he must -hear something of Tom Durham, whom he believes to have gone to Ceylon -as his agent, and whose non-arrival there will of course be reported -to him. So long as my husband and the poor puny thing for whom he has -deserted me, can force money from the old man Claxton, they will do -so. But in whatever relations she may stand to him, when he discovers -her flight he will stop the supplies, and I should think Monsieur -Durham will probably turn up with some cleverly-concocted story to -account for his quitting the ship. They will learn that by telegraph -from Gibraltar, I suppose; and he will again seek for legitimate -employment. Meanwhile I have the satisfaction of striking him with his -own whip and stabbing him with his own dagger, by using the money -which he gave me to help me in my endeavours to hunt him down. The -money! It is there safe enough!" - -As she placed her hand within the bosom of her dress, a curious -expression, first of surprise, then of triumph, swept across her face. -"The letter!" she said, as she pulled it forth,--"the letter, almost -as important as the banknotes themselves, Tom Durham called it. It is -sealed! Shall I open it; but for what good? To find, perhaps, a -confession that he loves me no more, that he has taken this means to -end our connection, and that he has given me the money to make amends -for his betrayal of me--shall I-- Bah! doubtless it is another part of -the fraud, and contains nothing of any value." - -She broke the seal as she spoke, opened the envelope, and took out its -contents, a single sheet of paper, on which was written: - -"I have duly received the paper you sent me, and have placed it intact -in another envelope, marked 'Akhbar K,' which I have deposited in the -second drawer of my iron safe. Besides myself no one but my -confidential head-clerk knows even as much as this, and I am glad that -I declined to receive your confidence in the matter, as my very -ignorance may at some future time be of service to you, or--don't -think me harsh, but I have known you long enough to speak plainly to -you--may prevent my being compromised. The packet will be given up to -no one but yourself in person, or to some one who can describe the -indorsement, as proof that they are accredited by you. H. S." - - -This letter Pauline read and re-read over carefully; then with a -shoulder-shrug returned it to its envelope, and replaced it in her -bosom. - -"Mysterious," she said, "and unsatisfactory, as is everything -connected with Monsieur Durham! The paper to which this letter refers -is of importance doubtless, but what it may contain, and who 'H. S.' -may be, are equally unknown to me; and without that information I am -helpless to make use of it. Let it remain there! A time may come when -t will be of service. Meanwhile I have the two thousand pounds to work -with, and Monsieur Calverley to work upon; he is the only link which I -can see at present to connect me with my fugitive husband. Through him -is the only means I have of obtaining any information as to the -whereabouts of this traitorous pair. The clue is slight enough, but it -may serve in default of a better, and I must set my wits to work to -make it useful." - -So the night went on; and the Mogg household, the proprietors -themselves in the back-kitchen; the circulating librarian in the -parlours; the Italian nobleman, who dealt in cameos an coral and -bric-a-brac jewelry, in the drawing-room; the Belgian basso, who -smoked such strong tobacco, and cleared his throat with such alarming -vehemence, in the second floor back; and the German teacher, in -ignorance of his intended forcible change of domicile, in the attic; -all these slept the sleep of the just, and snored the snores c the -weary; while Pauline, half undressed, lay on her bed, with eyes indeed -half closed, but with her brain active and at work. In the middle of -the night, warned by the rapid decrease of her candle that in a few -minutes she would be in darkness, she rose from the bed, and taking -from her carpet-bag a small neat blotting-book, she sat down at the -table, and in a thin, clear, legible hand, to the practised eye -eminently suggestive of hotel bills, wrote the following letter: - - -"19A _Poland-street, Soho_. - -"Monsieur,--As a Frenchwoman domiciled in England, the name of -Monsieur Calverley has become familiar to me as that of a -gentleman--ah, the true English word!--who is renowned as one of the -most constant and liberal benefactors to all kinds of charities for -distressed foreigners. Do not start, monsieur; do not turn aside or -put away this letter in the idea that you have already arrived exactly -at its meaning and intention. Naturally enough you think that the -writer is about to throw herself on your mercy, and to implore you for -money, or for admission into one of those asylums towards the support -of which you do so much. It is not so, monsieur; though, were my -circumstances different, it is to you I should apply, knowing that -your ear is never deaf to such complaint. I have no want of money, -though my soul is crushed; and I am well and strong in body, though my -heart is wounded and bleeding, calamities for which, even in England, -there are no hospitals nor doctors. Yet, monsieur, am I one of that -clientèle which you have so nobly made your own--the foreigners in -distress. Do you think that the only distressed foreigners are the -people who want to give lessons, or get orders for wine and cigars, -the poor governesses, the demoiselles de magasin, the émigrés of the -Republic and the Empire? No, there is another kind of distressed -foreigner,--the woman with a small sum, on which she must live for the -rest of her days, in penury if she manages ill, in decent thrift if -she manages well. Who will guide her? I am such a woman, monsieur. To -my own country, where I have lost all ties, and where remain to me but -sad memories, I will not return. In this land, where, if I have no -ties, yet have I no sad memories, I will remain. I have a small sum of -money, on the interest of which I must exist; and to you I apply, -monsieur; you, the merchant prince, the patron and benefactor of my -countrymen, to advise in the investment of this poor sum, and keep me -from the hands of charlatans and swindlers, who otherwise would rob me -of it. I await your gracious answer, - - "Monsieur; and am - "Your servant, - "PALMYRE DU TERTRE." - - -The next morning Pauline conveyed this letter to the office in -Mincing-lane, and asked to see Mr. Calverley; but on being told by a -smart clerk that Mr. Calverley was out of town, visiting the iron -works in the North, and would not be back for some days, she left the -letter in the clerk's hands, and begged for an answer at his chief's -convenience. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. -IN THE CITY. - - -The descriptions of the great house of Calverley and Company given -respectively by Mr. and Mrs. Calverley, though differing essentially -in many particulars, had each a substratum of truth. The house had -been founded half a century before by John Lorraine, the eldest son of -a broken-down but ancient family in the north of England, who in very -early years had been sent up to London to shift for himself, and -arriving there with the conventional half-crown in his pocket, was, of -course, destined to fame and fortune. Needless to say that, like so -many other merchant princes, heroes of history far more veracious than -this, his first experiences were those of struggling adversity. He -kept the books, he ran the errands, he fetched and carried for his -master--the old East-India agent in Great St. Helen's--and by his -intelligence and industry he commended himself to the good graces of -his superiors; and was not only able to maintain himself in a -respectable position, but to provide for his two younger brothers, who -were sipping from the fount of learning at the grammar-school of -Penrith. These junior scions being brought to town, and applying -themselves, not, indeed, with the same energy as their elder brother, -but with a passable amount of interest and care to the duties set -before them, were taken into partnership by John Lorraine when he went -into business for himself, and helped, in a certain degree, to -establish the fortunes of the house. Of these fortunes John Lorraine -was the mainspring and the principal producer. He had wonderful powers -of foresight; and uncommon shrewdness in estimating the chances of any -venture proposed to him; and with all these he was bold and lucky; -'far too bold,' his old employers said, with shaking heads, as they -saw him gradually but surely outstripping them in the race; 'far too -lucky,' his detractors growled, when they saw speculations, which had -been offered to them and promptly declined, prosper auriferously in -John Lorraine's hands. - -As soon as John Lorraine saw the tide of fortune strongly setting in, -he took to himself a wife, the daughter of one of his City friends, a -man of tolerable wealth and great experience, who in his early days -had befriended the struggling boy, and who thought his daughter could -not have achieved higher honour or greater happiness. Whatever honour -or happiness may have accrued to the young lady on her marriage did -not last long, for, shortly after giving birth to her first child, a -daughter, she died; and thenceforward John Lorraine devoted his life -to the little girl, and to the increased fortune which she was to -inherit. When little Jane had arrived at a more than marriageable age, -and from a pretty fubsy baby had grown into a thin, acidulated, -opiniated woman (a result attributable to the manner in which she had -been spoiled by her indulgent father), John Lorraine's mind was mainly -exercised as to what manner of man would propose for her with a -likelihood of success. Hitherto, love-affairs had been things almost -unknown to his Jane, not from any unwillingness on her part to make -their acquaintance, but principally because, notwithstanding the -fortune which it was known she would bring to her husband, none of the -few young men who from time to time dined solemnly in the -old-fashioned house in Brunswick-square, or acted as cavalier to its -mistress to the Antient Concerts, or the King's Theatre, could make up -their minds to address her in anything but the most common phrases. -That Miss Jane had a will of her own, and a tart manner of expressing -her intention of having that will fulfilled, was also matter of common -gossip. Stories were current among the clerks at Mincing-lane of the -"wigging" which they had heard her administering to her father, when -she drove down to fetch him away in her chariot, and when he kept her -unduly waiting; the household servants in Brunswick-square had their -opinion of Miss Jane's temper; and the tradesmen in the neighbourhood -looked forward to the entrance of her thin, dark figure into their -shops every Tuesday morning, for the performance of settling the -books, with fear and trembling. - -Old John Lorraine, fully appreciating his daughter's infirmities, -though, partly from affection, partly from fear, he never took upon -himself to rebuke them, began to think that the fairy prince who was -to wake this morally slumbering virgin to a sense of something better, -to larger views and higher aims, to domestic happiness and married -bliss, would never arrive. He came at last, however, in the person of -George Gurwood; a big, broad-shouldered, jovial fellow, who, as a son -of another of Lorraine's early friends, had some time previously been -admitted as a partner into the house. Everybody liked good-looking, -jolly George Gurwood. Lambton Lorraine and Lowther Lorraine, who, -though now growing elderly men, had retained their bachelor tastes and -habits, and managed to get through a great portion of the income -accruing to them from the business, were delighted with his jovial -manners, his sporting tendencies, his convivial predilections. When -the fact of George's paying his addresses to their niece was first -promulgated, Lambton had a serious talk with his genial partner, -warning him against tying himself for life to a woman with whom he had -no single feeling in common. But George laughed at the caution, and -declined to be guided by it. "Miss Lorraine was not much in his line," -he said; "perhaps a little given to tea and psalm-smiting; but it would -come all right: he should get her into a different way; and as the -dear old guv'nor" (by which title George always affectionately spoke -of his senior partner) "seemed to wish it he was not going to stand in -the way. He wanted a home, and Jane should make him a jolly one, he'd -take care of that." - -Jane Lorraine married George Gurwood, but she did not make him a home. -Her rigid bearing and unyielding temper were too strong for his -plastic, pliable nature; for many months the struggle for mastery was -carried on between them, but in the end George--jolly George no -longer--gave way. He had made a tolerably good fight of it, and had -used every means in his power to induce her to be less bitter, less -furtive, less inexorable in the matter of his dinings-out, his -sporting transactions, his constant desire to see his table surrounded -by congenial company. "I have tried to gentle her," he said to Lowther -Lorraine one day, "as I would a horse, and there has never been one of -them yet that I could not coax and pet into good temper; I'd spend any -amount of money on her, and let her have her own way in most things if -she would only just let me have mine in a few. I have tried her with a -sharp bit and a pair of 'persuaders,' but that was no more use than -the gentling. She's as hard as nails, Lowther, my boy, and I don't see -my way out of it, that's the truth. So come along and have a B and S." - -If having a B and S--George's abbreviation for soda-water and -brandy--would have helped him to see his way out of his difficulties, -he would speedily have been able to perceive it, for thenceforward his -consumption of that and many other kinds of liquids was enormous. -Wretched in his home, George Gurwood took to drinking to drown care, -but, as in most similar cases, the demon proved himself far too -buoyant to be overwhelmed even by the amount which George poured upon -him. He was drinking morning, noon, and night, and was generally in a -more or less muddled state. When he went to business, which was now -very seldom, some of the clerks in the office laughed at him, which -was bad enough, while others pitied him, which was worse. The story of -George's dissipation was carefully kept from John Lorraine, who had -virtually retired from the business, and devoted himself to nursing -his rheumatism, and to superintending the education of his grandson, a -fine boy of five or six years of age; but Lambton and Lowther held -many colloquies together, the end of them all being that they agreed -they could not tell what was to be done with George Gurwood. What was -to be done with him was soon settled by George Gurwood himself. Even -his powerful constitution had been unable to withstand the ravages -which constant drinking had inflicted upon it. He was seized with an -attack of delirium tremens while attending a race-meeting at Warwick, -and during the temporary absence of the night-nurse jolly George -Gurwood terminated his earthly career by jumping from the bedroom -window of the hotel into the yard below. - -Then it was that the investigation of the affairs of the firm, -consequent upon the death of one of the partners, revealed the serious -state in which matters stood. All the name and fame, the large -fortune, the enormous colonial business, the commercial credit which -John Lorraine had spent his life in building up, had been gradually -crumbling away. Two years more of this decadence, such as the perusal -of the firm's books exhibited had taken place during the last ten -years, and the great house of Lorraine Brothers would be in the -Bankruptcy Court. Then it was that Mr. Calverley, hitherto known only -as a plodding reliable head-clerk, thoroughly conversant with all -details of business, but never having shown any peculiar capabilities, -came forward and made his mark. At the meeting of the creditors he -expounded his views so lucidly, and showed so plainly how, by -reorganising the business in every department, it could once more be -put on a safe and proper footing, and reinstated in its old position -as one of the leading houses in the City, that the helm was at once -put into his hands. So safely and so prosperously did he steer the -ship, that, before old John Lorraine died, he saw the business in -Mincing-lane, though no longer conducted under its old name (Mr. -Calverley had made a point of that, and had insisted on claiming -whatever was due to his ability and exertions), more flourishing than -in its best days; while Lambton and Lowther, who had been paid out at -the reorganisation of affairs, and had thought themselves very lucky -at escaping being sucked-in by the expected whirlpool, were disgusted -at the triumphant results of the operations of a man by whom they -had set so little store, and complained indignantly of their -ill-treatment. - -And then John Calverley, who, as one of the necessities involved in -carrying out his business transactions, had been frequently brought -into communication with the widowed Mrs. Gurwood, first conceived the -idea of making her an offer of marriage. Nearly forty years of his -life had been spent in a state of bachelorhood, though he had not been -without the comforts of a home. He was thoroughly domesticated by -nature, simple in his tastes, shy and shrinking from society, and so -engrossed by his unceasing labour during the day, that it was his -happiness at night to put aside from his mind everything relating, -however remotely, to his City toil, and to sit drinking his tea, and -placidly chatting, reading, or listening to his old mother, from whom -since his childhood he had never been separated. The first great grief -of John Calverley's life, the death of this old lady, took place very -shortly after he had assumed the reins of government in Mincing-lane -and since then his home had been dull and cheerless. He sorely felt -the want of a companion, but he knew nobody whom he could ask to share -his lot. He had but rare opportunities of making the acquaintance of -any ladies, but Mrs. Gurwood had been thrown in his way by chance, -and, after some little hesitation, he ventured to propose to her. The -proposition was not disagreeable to Jane Gurwood. For some time past -she had felt the loss of some constantly present object on which to -vent her bile; her tongue and her temper were both becoming rusty by -disuse; and in the meek, pleasant little man, now rich and well-to-do, -she thought she saw a very fitting recipient for both. So John -Calverley and Jane Gurwood were married, with what result we have -already seen. - -The offices in Mincing-lane remained pretty much in the same state as -they had been in old John Lorraine's day. They had been painted, of -course, many times since he first entered upon their occupation, but -in the heart of the City the brilliancy of paint does not last very -long, and in a very few months after the ladders and the scaffoldings -had been removed, the outside woodwork relapsed into its state of -grubbiness. There was a talk at one time of making some additions to -the building, to provide accommodation for the increased staff of -clerks which it had been found necessary to engage; but Mr. Calverley -thought that the rooms originally occupied by Lambton and Lowther -Lorraine would do very well for the newly-appointed young gentlemen, -and there accordingly they set up their high desks and stools, their -enormous ledgers and day-books. The elderly men, who had been John -Lorraine's colleagues and subordinates in bygone days, still remained -attached to the business; but their employer, not unmindful of the -good services they had rendered, and conscious, perhaps, that without -their aid he might have had some difficulty in carrying out his -reorganisation so successfully, took means to lighten their duties and -to place them rather in the position of overseers and superintendents, -leaving the grinding desk-work to be performed by their juniors. Of -these young gentlemen there were several. They inhabited the lower -floor of the warehouse, and the most presentable of them were told-off -to see any stray customers that might enter. The ships' captains, the -brokers, and the consignees, knew their way about the premises, and -passed in and out unheeded; but occasionally strangers arrived with -letters of introduction, or foreign merchants put in a fantastic -appearance, and for the benefit of these there was a small glazed -waiting-room set apart, with one or other of the presentable clerks to -attend to them. - -About a fortnight after Pauline's first visit, about the middle of the -day, Mr. Walker, one of the clerks, entered the large office and -proceeded to hang up his hat and to doff his coat, preparatory to -putting on a sporting-looking garment made of shepherd's-plaid, with -extremely short tails, and liberally garnished with ink-spots. Judging -from his placid, satisfied appearance, and from the fact that he -carried a toothpick between his lips, which he was elegantly chewing, -one might have guessed without fear of contradiction, that Mr. Walker -had just returned from dinner. - -"You shouldn't hurry yourself in this way, Postman, you really -shouldn't," said Mr. Briscoe, one of the presentable clerks -aforenamed. "You will spoil your digestion if you do; and fancy what a -calamity that would be to a man of your figure. You have only been out -an hour and a quarter, and I understand they have sent round from -Lake's to Newgate Market for some more joints." - -"Don't you be funny, William," said Mr. Walker, wiping his lips, and -slowly climbing on to his stool; "it isn't in your line, and you might -hurt yourself." - -"Hurt myself!" echoed Mr. Briscoe. "I will hurt you, and spoil your -appetite too, when I get the chance, keeping a fellow hanging on here, -waiting for his luncheon, while you are gorging yourself to repletion -for one and ninepence. Only you wait till next week, when it's my turn -to go out at one, and you will see what a twist I'll give you. -However, one comfort is, I'm off at last." And Mr. Briscoe jumped from -his seat, and proceeded towards the hat-pegs. - -"No, you're not," said Mr. Walker, who had commenced a light dessert -on a half-hundred of walnuts, which he had purchased at a stall on his -way; "there's a party just come into the private office, William, and -as you're picked out for that berth on account of your beauty and -superior manners, you will have to attend to her. A female party, do -you hear, William; so, brush your hair, and pull down your wristbands, -and make a swell of yourself." - -Mr. Briscoe looked with great disgust towards the partition through -the dulled glass, on which he saw the outline of a female figure; -then, stepping across, he opened a pane in the glass, and inquired -what was wanted. - -"I called here some time ago," said Pauline, for it was she, "and left -a letter for Mr. Calverley. I was told he was out of town, but would -return in a few days. Perhaps he is now here?" - -"Mr. Calverley has returned," said Mr. Briscoe, in his most -fascinating manner, a compound of the familiarity with which he -addressed the waitresses in the eating-houses and the nonchalance with -which he regarded the duchesses in the Park. "I believe he is engaged -just now, but I will let him know you are here. What name shall I -say?" - -"Say Madame Du Tertre, if you please," said Pauline; "and mention that -he has already had a letter from me." - -Mr. Briscoe bowed, and delivered his message through a speaking-tube -which communicated with Mr. Calverley's room. In reply he was -instructed to bring the lady upstairs; and bidding Pauline follow him, -he at once introduced her into the presence of his chief. - -As his visitor entered, Mr. Calverley rose from the desk at which he -was seated, and graciously motioned her to a chair, looking hard at -her from under his light eyebrows meanwhile. - -Pauline was the first to speak. After she had seated herself, and Mr. -Calverley had resumed his place at his desk, she leaned forward and -said, "I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Calverley?" - -"That is my name," said John, with a bow and a pleasant smile. "In -what way can I have the pleasure of being of service to you?" - -"You speak kindly, Mr. Calverley, and your appearance is just what I -had expected. You received a letter from me--a strange letter you -thought it; is it not so?" - -"Well," said John, "it was not the sort of letter I have been in the -habit of receiving; it was not strictly a business kind of letter, you -know." - -"It was not addressed to you in your strictly business capacity, Mr. -Calverley; it was written from the heart, a thing which does not often -enter into business matters, I believe. It was written because I have -heard of you as a man of benevolence and charity, interested in the -fate of foreigners and exiles, able, if willing, to do what I wish." - -"My dear madam," said John Calverley, "I fear you much exaggerate any -good qualities I may possess. The very nature of my business throws me -into constant communication with people from other countries, and if -they are unfortunate I endeavour to help them to the best of my power. -Such power is limited to the giving away of small sums of money, and -helping them to return to their native country, to getting them -employment if they desire to remain here, or recommending them to -hospitals if they are ill; but yours is a peculiar case, if I -recollect your letter rightly. I have it here, and can refer to it--" - -"There is no occasion to do that. I can explain more fully and more -promptly by word of mouth. Mine is, as you say, a peculiar case. I am -the daughter of a retired officer of artillery, who lived at Lyons. At -his death I married Monsieur Du Tertre, who was engaged as a traveller -for one of the large silk factories there. He was frequently coming to -England, and spoke the language well. He taught it to me, and I, to -aid an income which was but small, taught it again to several pupils -in my native city. My husband, like most Frenchmen of his class, took -a vivid interest in politics, and was mixed up in several of the more -prominent Republican societies. One day, immediately after his return -from a foreign journey, he was arrested, and since then, save on the -day of his trial. I have not set eyes upon him. I know not where he -is; he may be in the cachots of Mont Saint Michele; he may be kept au -secret in the Conciergerie; he may be exiled to Cayenne--I know not. -All I know is, I shall never see him again. 'Avec ces gens-là il faut -en finir,' was all the reply I could get to my inquiries--they must be -finished, done with, stamped out, what you will. There," continued -Pauline, brushing her eyes with her handkerchief, "it is not often that -I give way, monsieur; my life is too stern and too hard for that. -After he was taken from me I could remain in Lyons no longer. It is -not alone upon the heads of families that the Imperial Government -revenges itself; so I came away to England, bringing with me all that -I had saved, all that I could scrape together, after selling -everything we possessed, and the result is that I have, monsieur, a -sum of two thousand pounds, which I wish to place in your hands, -begging you to invest it in such a manner as will enable me to live -honestly, and with something like decency, for the remainder of my -days." - -John Calverley had listened to this recital with great attention, and -when Pauline ceased speaking, he said to her with a half-grave smile: - -"The remainder of your days, madam, is likely, I hope, to be a -tolerably long period; for you are evidently quite a young woman. -Now, with regard to your proposition, you yourself say it is -unbusiness-like, and I must confess it strikes me as being so in the -highest degree. You know nothing of me, beyond seeing my name as a -subscriber to certain charities, or having heard it mentioned as that -of a man who takes some interest in assisting foreigners in distress; -and yet you offer to place in my hands what constitutes your entire -fortune, and intrust me with the disposal of it. I really do not -think," said John Calverley, hesitating, "I can possibly undertake--" - -"One moment, Mr. Calverley," said Pauline. "The responsibility of -declining to take this money will be far greater than of accepting it; -for if you decline to act for me, I will consult no one else; I will -act on my own impulse, and shall probably either invest the sum in -some swindling company, or squander and spend it." - -"You must not do that," said John promptly; "you must not think of -doing that. Two thousand pounds is not a very large sum of money; but -properly invested, a lady without encumbrance," said John, with a dim -recollection of the formula of servants' advertisements, "might live -very comfortably on the interest, more especially if she had no home -to keep up." - -"But, monsieur, I must always have a home, a lodging, a something to -live in," said Pauline with a shrug. - -"Yes, of course," said John Calverley, rather absently; for at that -moment a notable plan had suggested itself to him, and he was -revolving it in his mind. "Where are you living now, Madame Du -Tertre?" - -"I have a lodging--a bed-room--in Poland-street," she replied. - -"Dear me," said John Calverley, in horrified amazement. -"Poland-street? I know, of course; back of the Pantheon--very stuffy -and grimy, children playing battledore and shuttlecock in the street, -organ-men and fish-barrows, and all that kind of thing; not at all -pleasant." - -"No," said Pauline, with a repetition of her shrug; "but beggars have -no choice, as the proverb says." - -"Did it ever occur to you," said John nervously, "that you might become -a companion to a lady--quite comfortable, you know, and well treated, -made one of the family, in point of fact?" he added, again recurring -to the advertisement formula. - -Pauline's eyes glistened at once, but her voice was quite calm as she -said: "I have never thought of such a thing. I don't know whether I -should like it. It would, of course, depend upon the family." - -"Of course," assented John. "I was thinking of-- Do you play the -piano, Madame Du Tertre?" - -"O yes, sufficiently well." - -"Ah," said John unconsciously, "some of it does go a long way. Well, I -was thinking that perhaps--" - -"Mrs. Calverley, sir," said Mr. Briscoe, throwing open the door. - -Mrs. Calverley walked into the room, looking so stern and defiant that -her husband saw he must take immediate action to prevent the outbreak -of a storm. Since that evening in Great Walpole-street, when John -Calverley had plucked up his spirit, and ventured to assert himself, -his wife, though cold and grim as ever, had kept more outward control -over her temper, and had almost ceased to give vent to the virulent -raillery in which she formerly indulged. Like most despots she had -been paralysed when her meek slave rebelled against her tyranny, and -had stood in perpetual fear of him ever since. - -"You come at a very opportune moment, Jane," said John Calverley. - -"It scarcely seems so," said his wife, from between her closed lips. -"I was afraid I might be regarded as an unpleasant interruption to a -private interview." - -"It is I, madam," said Pauline, rising, "who am the interrupter here. -My business with Mr. Calverley is ended, and I will now retire." - -"Pray stay, Madame Du Tertre," said John, motioning her again to her -chair.--"This lady, Jane, is Madame Du Tertre, a foreigner and a -stranger in England." - -"But not a stranger to the history of Madame Calverley," said Pauline, -rising gracefully; "not a stranger to the beneficence, the charities, -the piety of Mademoiselle Lorraine; not a stranger," she added, in a -lower tone, "to the sainted sufferings of Madame Gurwood. Ah, madame, -though I have been but a very short time in this great city of London, -I have heard of you, of your religion, and your goodness, and I am -honoured in the opportunity of being able to kiss your hand." And -suiting the action to the word, Pauline took Jane Calverley's -plum-coloured gauntlet into her own neatly-gloved palm and pressed it -to her lips. - -Mrs. Calverley was so taken aback at this performance, that, beyond -muttering "not worthy" and "too generous," she said nothing. But her -husband marked the faint blush of satisfaction which spread over her -clay-coloured complexion, and took advantage of the impression made to -say: - -"Madame Du Tertre, my dear Jane, is a French lady, a widow with a -small fortune, which she wishes me to invest for her in the best way -possible. In the mean time she is a stranger here in London, as I said -before, and she has no comfortable lodging and no friends. I thought -perhaps that, as I am compelled by business to be frequently absent -from home, and am likely to continue to be so, it might break the -loneliness of your life if Madame Du Tertre, who speaks our language -well, and plays the piano, and is no doubt generally accomplished, -might come as your visitor for a short time, and then if you found you -suited each other, one might make some more permanent arrangement." - -When Jane Calverley first entered the room and saw a lady gossipping -with her husband, she thought she had discovered the means of bringing -him to shame, and making his life a burden to him. Now in his visitor -she saw, as she thought, a woman possessing qualities such as she -admired, but for which she never gave her husband credit, and one who -might render her efficient aid in her life's campaign against him. -Even if what had been told her were false, and that this woman were an -old friend of his, as a visitor in Great Walpole-street Mrs. Calverley -would have her under her own eye, and she believed sufficiently in her -own powers of penetration to enable her to judge of the relations -between them. So that, after a little more talk, the visit was -determined on, and it was arranged that the next day Madame Du Tertre -should remove to her new quarters. - -"And now," said Pauline, as she knocked at Mr. Mogg's door, whither -the Calverley's carriage had brought her, "and now, Monsieur Tom -Durham, _gare à vous!_ for this day I have laid the beginning of the -train which, sooner or later, shall blow your newly-built castle of -happiness into the air!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -THE VICAR OF LULLINGTON. - - -Jolly George Gurwood's only child, tie little boy whom his -grandfather, old John Lorraine, made so much of during the latter -years of his life, after having been educated at Marlborough and -Oxford, was admitted into holy orders, and, at the time of our story, -was Vicar of Lullington, a rural parish, about one hundred and twenty -miles from London, on the great Northern road. A pleasant place -Lullington for a lazy man. A quiet, sleepy little village of half a -hundred houses, scattered here and there, with a chirpy little brook -singing its way through what was supposed the the principal street, -and hurrying onwards though great broad tracts of green pasturage, -where in the summer time the red-brown cattle drank of it, and cooled -their heated limbs in its refreshing tide, until it was finally -swallowed up in the silver Trent. - -Lullington Church was not a particularly picturesque edifice, for it -resembled a large barn, with a square, weather-beaten tower at one end -of it; nor was the churchyard at all likely to be provocative of an -elegy, or of anything but rheumatism, being a damp, dreary little -spot, with most of its tombstones covered with green moss, and with a -public footpath, with a stile at either end, running through the -middle of it. But to the artists wandering through that part of the -country (they were not numerous, for Notts and Lincoln have not much -to offer to the sketcher), the vicarage made up for the shortcomings -of the church. It was a square, old-fashioned, red-bricked house, -standing in the midst of a garden full of greenery; and whereas the -church looked time-worn and cold, and had even on the brightest summer -day, a teeth-chattering, gruesome appearance, the vicarage had a -jolly cheerful expression, and when the sun gleamed on its little -diamond-shaped windows, with their leaden casements, you were -inexplicably reminded of a red-faced, genial old gentleman, whose eyes -were twinkling in delight at some funny story which he had just heard. - -It was just the home for a middle-aged man with a wife and family; for -it had a large number of rooms of all kinds and shapes, square -bed-chambers, triangular nooks, long passages, large attics, wherein -was accommodation for half-a-dozen servants, and ramshackle stables, -where as many horses could be stowed away. It was just the house for a -man of large means, who would not object to devoting a certain -portion of his leisure to his parochial duties, but whose principal -occupation would be in his garden or his greenhouses. Such a man was -Martin Gurwood's predecessor, who had held the living for fifty years, -and had seen some half-score boys and girls issue from the vicarage -into the world to marry and settle themselves in various ways of life. -The Reverend Anthony Camden was known as a rose-grower throughout -three adjoining counties, and had even obtained special prizes at -Crystal-Palace and Botanical-Garden shows. He was a bit of a fisherman -too, and had been in his younger days something of a shot. Not being -much of a reader, except of the _Field_ and the _Gardeners' -Chronicle_, he would have found the winter evenings dull, had it not -been for the excitement of perpetually re-arranging his large -collection of moths and butterflies, renewing their corks and pins, -and putting fresh pieces of camphor into the corners of the glazed -drawers which contained them. Mr. Camden knew all about crops and -manure, and sub-soiling and drainage; the farmers for miles round used -to come to the vicarage to consult him, and he always gave them beer -and advice both of the best quality. He played long-whist and preached -short sermons; and when he died in a green old age, it was universally -voted in Lullington and its neighbourhood, that it would be impossible -to replace him. - -Certainly, there could not have been a more marked contrast than -between him and his successor. Martin Gurwood was a man of -six-and-twenty, unmarried, with apparently no thought in life beyond -his sacred calling and the duties appertaining to it. Only half the -rooms in the vicarage were furnished; and, except on such rare -occasions as his mother or some of his friends coming to stay with -him, only two of them on the ground-floor, one the vicar's study, the -other his bed-chamber, were used. The persistent entreaties of his old -housekeeper had induced him to relent from his original intention of -allowing the garden to go to rack and ruin, and it was accordingly -handed over to the sexton, who in so small a community had but little -work in his own particular line, and who kept up the old-fashioned -flowers and the smooth-shaven lawns in which their late owner had so -much delighted. But Martin Gurwood took no interest in the garden -himself, and only entered it occasionally of an evening, when he would -stroll up and down the lawn, or one of the gravel walks, with his -head bent forward and his hands clasped behind him, deep in -meditation. He kept a horse, certainly--a powerful big-boned Irish -hunter--but he only rode her by fits and starts, sometimes leaving her -in the stable for weeks together, dependent on such exercise as she -could obtain in the spare moments of her groom, at other times -persistently riding her day after day, no matter what might be the -weather. On those occasions the vicar did not merely go out for a mild -constitutional, to potter round the outskirts of his parish, or to -trot over to the market-town; he was out for hours at a stretch, and -generally brought the mare home heated and foam-flecked. Indeed, more -than one of his parishioners had seen their spiritual guide riding -across country, solitary indeed, but straight, as though he were -marking out the line for a steeple-chase, stopping neither for hedge, -bank, nor brook, the Irish mare flying all in her stride, her rider -sitting with his hands down on her withers, his lips compressed, and -his face deadly pale. "Tekkin it out of hisself, mebbe," said Farmer -Barford, when his son described to him this sight which he had seen -that afternoon; "for all he's so close, and so meek and religious, -there's a spice of the devil in him as in every other man; and, Bill, -my boy, that's the way he takes it out of hisself." Thus Farmer -Barford, and to this effect spoke several of the parishioners in -committee assembled over their pipes and beer at the Dun Cow. - -They did not hint anything of the kind to the vicar himself, trust -them for that! Martin Gurwood could not be called popular amongst the -community in which his lot was cast; he was charitable to a degree, -lavish with his money, thinking nothing of passing days and nights by -the bedside of the sick, contributing more than half the funds -necessary for the maintenance of the village schools, accessible at -all times, and ready with such advice or assistance as the occasion -demanded; but yet they called him "high and standoffish." Old Mr.. -Camden, making a house-to-house visitation perhaps once a year, when -the fit so seized him, "going his rounds," as he called it, would sit -down to dinner in a farm-house kitchen, or take a mug of beer with the -farmer while they talked about crops, and occasionally would preside -at a harvest-home supper, or a Christmas gathering. Martin Gurwood did -nothing of this kind; he was always polite, invariably courteous, but -he never courted anything like fellowship or bonhomie. He had joined -the village cricket-club on his first arrival, and showed himself an -excellent and energetic player; but the familiarity engendered in the -field seemed displeasing to him, and though he continued his -subscription, he gradually withdrew from active membership. Nor was -his religious ardour particularly pleasing to the parishioners, who, -under Mr. Camden's lax rule, had thought it sufficient if they put-in -an appearance at morning service, and thus cleared off the debt of -attendance until the succeeding Sunday. They could not understand what -the parson meant by having prayers at eight o'clock every morning: who -did he expect would go at such a time, they wondered? Not they, nor -their men, who were far away in the fields before that time; not the -missuses, who had the dairy and the house to attend to; not the girls, -who were looking after the linen and minding the younger children; nor -the boys, who, if not at school, were out at farm-work. It was all -very well for the two Miss Dyneleys, the two maiden ladies living at -Ivy Cottage, who had money coming in regular, paid them by the -Government (the Lullington idea of consols was not particularly -clear), and had naught to do from morning till night; it filled-up -their time like, and was a kind of amusement to them. All very well -for old Mr. Willis, who had made his fortune, it was said, by being a -tailor in London, who had bought the Larches where Squire Needham used -to live in the good old times, who could not ride, or drive, or shoot, -or fish, or do anything but walk about his garden with a spud over his -shoulders, and who was said to be dying to get back to business. These -and some two or three of the bigger girls from the Miss Gilks's -seminary for young ladies, were all that attended at "Mattins," as the -name of the morning service stood in Early-english type on the -index-board in the churchyard; but Martin Garwood persevered and went -through the service with as much earnestness and devotion as though -the church had been full and the bishop of the diocese seated in the -vicar's pew. - -There was the usual element of squirearchy in the neighbourhood, and -on Martin's first introduction into its parish the squires' wives -drove over, leaving their own and their husbands' cards, and -invitations to dinner, duly arranged for a time when the moon was at -its full. Mr. Gurwood responded to these invitations, and made his -appearance at the various banquets. Accustomed to old Mr. Camden with -his red face, his bald head, his white whiskers, and black suit cut in -the fashion of a quarter of a century ago, the county people were at -first rather impressed with Martin Gurwood's thin handsome face, and -small well-dressed figure. It was a relief, the women said, to see a -gentleman amongst them, and they were all certain that Mr. Gurwood -would be an acquisition to the local society; but as the guests were -driving homeward from the first of these feasts, several of the male -convives imparted to their wives their idea that the new Vicar of -Lullington was not merely unfit to hold a candle to his predecessor, -but was likely to prove a meddlesome, disagreeable fellow. It seemed -that after the ladies had retired, the conversation becoming as usual -rather free, Mr. Gurwood had sat in blank, stony silence, keeping his -eyes steadily fixed upon the contents of his dessert plate, and -neither by look nor word giving the slightest intimation that he was -aware of what was going on. But when rallied from his silence by Mr. -Lidstone, a man of low tastes and small education, but enormously -wealthy, Mr. Gurwood had spoken out and declared that if by indulging -in such conversation, and telling such stories, they chose to ignore -the respect due to themselves, they ought at least, while he was among -them, to recollect the respect due to him, and to the calling which he -represented. He had no desire to assume the character of a wet blanket -or a kill-joy, but they must understand that for the future they must -chose between his presence and the indulgence in such conversation; -and as they had evidently not expected any such demonstration in the -present instance, he would relieve them of his company at once, and -leave them to decide whether or not he should again come amongst them -as a guest. So saying, the parson had walked out of the window on to -the lawn as cool as a cucumber, and left the squirearchy gaping in -astonishment. - -They were Boeotian, these county people, crass, ignorant, and rusted -with prejudice from want of contact with the world, but they were by -no means bad-hearted, and they took the parson's remonstrance in very -good part. Each one who had already sent Martin Gurwood an invitation, -managed to grip his hand before the evening was over, and took -occasion to renew it, declaring he should have no occasion to -reiterate the remarks which he had just made, and which they perfectly -understood. Nor had he; he went a round of these solemn festivities, -finding each one, both during the presence of the ladies and after -their withdrawal, perfectly decorous, but unspeakably dull. He had not -been sufficiently long in the neighbourhood for the local gossip to -possess the smallest interest to him; he was not sufficient of an -agriculturist to discuss the different methods of farming or the -various qualities of food; he could talk about Oxford indeed, where -some of his hosts or their friends had young relations whom he had -known; he could and did sing well certain Italian songs in a rich -tenor voice; and he discussed church architecture and decorations with -the young ladies. But the old squires and the young squires cared for -none of these things. They remembered how old Anthony Camden would sit -by while the broadest stories were told, looking, save from the -twinkle in his eye and the curling of his bulbous nether lip, as -though he heard them not; with what feeling he would troll out a -ballad of Dibdin's, or a bacchanalian ditty; and how the brewing of -the bowl of punch, the "stirrup-cup," was always intrusted to his -practised hand. Martin Gurwood took a glass of cold water before -leaving; and if he were dining out any distance always had the one -hired fly of the neighbourhood to convey him back to the vicarage. No -wonder that the laughter-loving, roisterous squires shook their heads -when they thought of old Anthony Camden, and mourned over the glories -of those departed days. - -Martin Gurwood was not, however, at Lullington just now. He had -induced an old college friend to look after the welfare of his -parishioners while he ran up, as he did once or twice in the year, to -stay for a fortnight with his mother in Great Walpole-street. John -Calverley, who had a strong liking for Martin, a feeling which the -vicar cordially reciprocated, was anxious that his step-son should -come to them at Christmas; being an old-fashioned soul with a belief -in holly and yule logs, and kindly greetings and open-hearted -charities, at what he invariably spoke of as that "festive season," -and having an intense desire to interpose at such a time a friendly -aegis between him and the stony-faced Gorgon, whom it was his lot -through life to confront. But Martin Gurwood, regarding the Christmas -season in a very different light, urged that at such a time it would -be impossible for him to absent himself from his duties, and after his -own frigid manner refused to be tempted by the convivial blandishments -which John held out to him, or to be scared by the picture of the grim -loneliness of the vicarage which his stepfather drew for his -edification. So, in the early days of November, when the Lullington -farmers were getting well into their hunting, and the London -fogs, scarcely long enough to embrace the entire length of Great -Walpole-street, blotted out its middle and its lower end, leaving the -upper part comparatively bright and airy, Martin Gurwood came to town -and took up his abode in Mrs. Calverley's best spare bedroom. - -The other spare bedroom in the house was occupied by Madame Pauline Du -Tertre, who had for some time been installed there, and had regularly -taken up her position as the friend of the family and confidential -adviser to the female head of the house. Immediately on gaining her -footing within the walls, Pauline had succeeded in establishing -herself in the good graces of the self-contained, silent woman, who -hitherto had never known what it was to have any one to share her -confidences, to listen patiently to her never-ceasing complaints, and -to be able and willing to make little suggestions which chimed-in with -Mrs. Calverley's thoughts and wishes. Years ago, before her first -marriage, Jane Calverley had had a surfeit of toadyism and flattery -from her poor relations and dependants, and from the servants, who -cringed to and fawned upon the young girl as though they had been -southern slaves and she their owner. But in George Gurwood's days, and -since her marriage with her second husband, Mrs. Calverley had made no -friends, and even those whose interest it was to stand well with her -had found it impossible to break through the barriers of icy reserve -with which she surrounded herself. They did not approach her in the -proper manner perhaps, they did not go to work in the right way. -Commonly bred and ill-educated people as they were, they imagined that -the direct road to Jane Calverley's favour lay in pitying her and -speaking against her husband, with whom she was plainly at strife. As -is usual with such people, they overacted their parts; they spoke -strongly and bitterly in their denunciation of Mr. Calverley; they -were coarse, and their loud-trumpeted compassion for their mistress -jarred upon its recipient. Jane Calverley was a proud as well as a -hard woman, and her mind revolted against the idea of being openly -compassionated by her inferiors; so she kept her confidences rigidly -locked in her own breast, and Pauline's was the first hand to press a -spring by which the casket was opened. - -Before the Frenchwoman had been in the house twenty-four hours, she -had learned exactly the relations of its inmates, and as much as has -been already set forth in these pages of their family history. She had -probed the characters of the husband and the wife, had listened to the -mother's eulogies of her saintly son, and had sighed and shaken her -head in seeming condolence over the vividly-described shortcomings of -Mr. Calverley. Without effusion, and with only the dumb sympathy -conveyed by her eloquent eyes and gestures, Pauline managed to lead -her new-found friend, now that she comprehended her domestic troubles, -and would do her best to aid her in getting rid of them, and in many -other ways she made herself useful and agreeable to the cold, -friendless woman who was her hostess. She re-arranged the furniture of -the dreary drawing-room, lighting it up here and there with such -flowers as were procurable, and with evergreens, which she bought -herself; she covered the square formal chairs and couches with muslin -antimacassars, and gave the room, what it had never hitherto had, the -semblance of a woman's presence. She accomplished what everybody had -imagined to be an impossibility, an alteration in the style of Mrs. -Calverley's costume; she made with her own hands a little elegant cap -with soft blond falling from it, which took away from that rigid -outline of the chin; and instead of the wisp of black net round her -throat, she induced Mrs. Calverley to wear a neat white muslin -handkerchief across her chest. The piano, seldom touched, save when -Mrs. Calverley, in an extraordinary good temper, would, for her -husband's edification, thump and strum away at an overture in -_Semiramide_ and other set pieces, which she had learned in her youth, -was now regularly brought into use, and in the evening Pauline would -seat herself at it, playing long selections from Mendelssohn and -Beethoven, or singing religious songs by Mozart, the listening to -which made John Calverley supremely happy, and even brought something -like moisture into his wife's steely eyes. It is probable that had -Mrs. Calverley had any notion that these songs were the composition of -a Roman Catholic, and were many of them used in what she was -accustomed to speak of as "Popish ceremonies," she would never have -been induced even to listen to them; but with unerring judgment -Pauline had at once divined this phase in her employer's character, -and, while the particular sect to which she belonged was of no -importance to herself, had taken care to make Mrs. Calverley -understand that Luther had no more devoted adherent. - -"She is a Huguenot, my dear," said Mrs. Calverley to Martin Gurwood, -shortly after his arrival, and before she had presented him to the -new inmate of the house; "a Huguenot of ancient family, who lost all -their property a long time ago by the revocation of the edict of -somebody--Nancy, I think, was the name. You will find her a most -amiable person, richly endowed with good gifts, and calculated, should -she not suffer from the evil effects of Mr. Calverley's companionship, -to prove an inestimable blessing to me." - -Martin Gurwood expressed himself well pleased to hear this account of -his mother's new-found friend; but, on being presented to Pauline, he -scarcely found the description realised. His natural cleverness had -been sharpened by his public-school and university education; and, -though during the last few years of his life he had been buried in -comparative obscurity, he retained sufficient knowledge of the world -to perceive that a woman like Madame Du Tertre, bright, clever, to a -certain degree accomplished, and possessing immense energy and power -of will, would not have relegated herself to such a life as she was -then leading without having a strong aim to gain. And what that aim -was he was determined to find out. - -But, though these were Martin Gurwood's thoughts, he never permitted a -trace of them to appear in his manner to Madame Du Tertre, which was -scrupulously courteous, if nothing more. Perhaps it was from his -mother that he inherited a certain cold propriety of bearing and -frigidity of demeanour, which his acquaintances generally complained -of. The farmers of Lullington, comparing it with the geniality of -their previous pastor, found it insufferable; and his college friends, -who had come in contact with him of late years, thought he was a -totally changed being from the high-spirited fellow who had been one -of the noisiest athletes of his day. Certain it was that he was now -pensive and reserved; nay more, that when out of Lullington in -company--that is to say, either with any of his former colleagues, -or of a few persons who were visitors at the house in Great -Walpole-street--he seemed desirous almost of shunning observation, and -of studiously keeping in the back-ground, when his mother's pride in -him would have made him take a leading part in any conversation that -might be going on. Before he had been two days in the house Pauline's -quick instinct had detected this peculiarity, and she had mentally -noted it among the things which, properly worked, might help her to -the elucidation of the plan to which she had devoted her life. She -determined on making herself agreeable to this young man, on forcing -him into a certain amount of intimacy and companionship; and so -skilful were her tactics, that, without absolute rudeness, Martin -Gurwood found it impossible entirely to withdraw from her advances. - -One night she challenged him to chess, and during the intervals of the -game she endeavoured to learn more of him than she had hitherto been -able to do in mere desultory conversation in the presence of others. - -Mrs. Calverley was hard at work at the Berlin-wool frame, putting the -final touches to Jael and Sisera; John Calverley, with the newspaper -in his lap, was fast asleep in his easy-chair; and the chess-players -were at the far end of the room, with a shaded lamp between them. - -They formed a strange contrast this couple: he, with his wavy chestnut -hair, his thin red-and-white, clear-cut, whiskerless face, his -shifting blue eyes, and his weak irresolute mouth; she, with her olive -complexion, her blue-black hair, her steady earnest gaze, her square -firm jaw, and the deep orange trimmings of her black silk dress, -showing off strangely against her companion's sable-hued clerical -dress. - -"You are too strong for me, monsieur," said Pauline, at the conclusion -of the first game; "but I will not yield you the victory without a -farther struggle." - -"I was going to say you played an excellent game, Madame Du Tertre; -but after your remark, it would sound: as though I were complimenting -myself," said Martin. "I have but few opportunities for chess-playing -now, but it was a favourite game of mine at college; and I knew many a -man who prided himself on his play whose head for it was certainly not -so good as yours." - -"You have not many persons in your--what you call your parish--who -play chess?" - -"No, indeed," said Martin; "cribbage I believe to be the highest -flight in that line amongst the farmers." - -"Madame Calverley has explained to me the style of place that it is. -Is it not wearisome to you to a degree to pass your existence in such -a locale amongst such a set of people?" - -"It is my duty, Madame Du Tertre," said Martin, "and I do not repine." - -"Ah, monsieur," said Pauline, with an inclination of her head and -downcast eyes, "I am the last person in the world to rebel against -duty, or to allow that it should not be undertaken in that spirit of -Christianity which you have shown. But are you sure, Monsieur Martin, -that you are acting rightly? However good your intentions may be, with -your devotion to the cause you have espoused, and with your great -talents, you should be taking a leading position in the great battle -of religion; whereas, by burying yourself in this hole, there you lose -for yourself the opportunity of fame, while the Church loses a -brilliant leader." - -"I have no desire for fame, Madame Du Tertre; and if I can only do my -duty diligently, it is enough for me." - -"Yes; but there is another thing. Pardon me, Monsieur Martin, I am a -strange woman and some years older than you, so that you must not -think me guilty of an impertinence in speaking freely to you. Your -Church--our Church--does not condemn its ministers to an ascetic or a -celibate life--that is one of the wildest errors of Romanism. Has it -never struck you that in consenting to remain amongst persons with -whom you have nothing in common--where you are never likely to meet a -woman calculated so to excite your admiration and affection as to -induce you to make her your wife, you are rather following the Roman -than the Protestant custom?" - -A faint flush, duly marked by Pauline's keen eyes, passed over Martin -Gurwood's handsome features. "I have no intention of marrying," he -said, in a low voice. - -"Not now perhaps," said Pauline, "because you have not yet seen anyone -whom you could love. A man of your taste and education is always -fastidious; but, depend upon it, you will some day find some lovely -girl of ancient family who--" - -"It will be time enough then to speak of it, Madame Du Tertre, would -it not?" said Martin Gurwood, flushing again. "Now, if you please, we -will resume our game." - -When Pauline went to her bedroom that night she locked the door, threw -herself into an easy-chair in front of the fire, and remained buried -in contemplation. Then she rose, and as she strolled towards the -dressing-table, said half aloud: "That man is jealously guarding a -secret--and it is his own!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -TOM DURHAM'S FRIEND. - - -On the morning after the Reverend Martin Gurwood and Madame Du Tertre -had had their game at chess, and held the conversation just recorded, -a straggling sunbeam, which had lost its way, turned by accident into -'Change-alley, and fell straight on to the bald head of a gentleman in -the second-floor of one of the houses there. This gentleman, who, -according to the inscription on the outer door jamb, was Mr. Humphrey -Statham, was so astonished at the unexpected solar apparition, that he -laid down the bundle of red tape with which he was knotting some -papers together, and advancing to the grimy window, rubbed a square -inch of dirt off the pane, and bending down, looked up at as much as -he could discern of the narrow strip of dun-coloured sky which does -duty for the blue empyrean to the inhabitants of 'Change-alley. The -sun but rarely visits 'Change-alley in summer, and in winter scarcely -ever puts in an appearance; the denizens endeavour to compensate -themselves for its absence by hanging huge burnished tin reflectors -outside their windows, or giving up all attempts at deception, and -sitting under gaslight from morning till eve. So that what Mr. Statham -saw when he looked up was as satisfactory as it was unexpected, and he -rubbed his hands together in sheer geniality, as he muttered something -about having "decent weather for his trip." - -A tall, strongly-built man, and good-looking after his fashion, with a -fringe of dark-brown hair round his bald crown, large regular -features, piercing hazel eyes, somewhat overhanging brows, a pleasant -mobile mouth, and a crisp brown beard. - -Humphrey Statham was a ship-broker, though, from a cursory glance at -his office, it would have been difficult to guess what occupation he -pursued, furnished as it was in the ordinary business fashion. There -was a large leather-covered writing-table, at which he was seated, a -standing desk in the window, an old worn stained leather easy-chair -for clients, the customary directories and commercial lists on shelves -against the wall, the usual Stationers' Almanac hanging above the -mantelpiece, the usual worn carpet and cinder-browned hearth-rug. In -the outer office, where the four clerks sat, and where the smaller -owners and the captains had to wait Mr. Statham's leisure (large -owners and underwriters being granted immediate audience), the walls -were covered with printed bills, announcing the dates of departure of -certain ships, the approaching sale of others; the high desks were -laden with huge ledgers and files of Lloyd's lists; and one of the -clerks, who took a deep interest in his business, gave quite a -maritime flavour to the place by invariably wearing a particular short -pea-jacket and a hard round oilskin hat. - -Not much leisure had these clerks; they were, to use their own phrase, -"at it" from morning till night, for Mr. Statham's business was a -large one, and though all the more important part of it was discharged -by himself, there was plenty of letter-writing and agreement copying, -ledger-entering, and running backwards and forwards between the office -and Lloyd's when the "governor," as they called him, was busy with the -underwriters. This year had been a peculiarly busy one; so busy, that -Mr. Statham had been unable to take his usual autumnal holiday, a -period of relaxation which he always looked forward to, and which, -being fond of athletics, and still in the very prime of life, he -usually passed among the Swiss Alps. This autumn he had passed it at -Teddington instead of Courmayeur, and had substituted a couple of -hours' pull on the river in the evening for his mountain climbing and -hairbreadth escapes. But the change had not been sufficient; his head -was dazed, he suffered under a great sense of lassitude; and his -doctor had ordered him to knock-off work, and to start immediately for -a clear month's vacation. Where he was to go he had scarcely made up -his mind. Of course, Switzerland in November was impossible, and he -was debating between the attractions of a month's snipe-shooting in -Ireland and the delight of passing his time on board one of the Scilly -Islands pilot-boats, roughing it with the men, and thoroughly enjoying -the wild life and the dangerous occupation. A grave, plain-mannered -man in his business--somewhat over cautious and reserved they thought -him at Lloyd's--Humphrey Statham, when away for his holiday, had the -high spirits of a boy, and never was so happy as when he had thrown -off all the ordinary constraints of conventionality, and was leading a -life widely different from that normally led by him, and associating -with persons widely different from those with whom he was ordinarily -brought into contact. Mr. Statham was, however, in his business just -now, and had not thrown off his cautious habits. By his side stood a -large iron safe, with one or two of its drawers open, and before him -lay a number of letters and papers, which he read through one by one, -or curiously glanced at, duly docketed them, made some memorandum -regarding them in his note-book, and stowed them away in a drawer in -the safe. As he read through some of them, he smiled; at others he -glanced with an angry frown or a shoulder-shrug of contempt; but there -were one or two during the perusal of which the lines in his face -seemed to deepen perceptibly, and before he laid them aside he -pondered long and deeply over their contents. - -"What a queer lot it is!" said Humphrey Statham wearily, throwing -himself back in his chair; "and how astonished people would be if they -only knew what a strange mass of human interests these papers -represent! With the exception of Collins, outside there, no one, I -suppose, comes into this room who does not imagine that this safe -contains nothing but business memoranda, insurances, brokerages, -calculations, and commissions; details concerning the Lively Polly of -Yarmouth, or the Saucy Sally of Whitstable; or who has the faintest -idea that among the business documents there are papers and letters -which would form good stock-in-trade for a romance writer! Why on -earth do those fellows spin their brains, when for a very small -investment of cash they could get people to tell them their own -experiences, actual facts and occurrences, infinitely more striking -and interesting than the nonsense which they invent? Every man who -has seen anything of life must at one time or other have had some -strange experience: the man who sells dog-collars and penknives at the -corner of the court; the old broken-down hack in the outer office, who -was a gentleman once, and now copies letters and runs errands for -fifteen shillings a week; and I, the solemn, grave, trusted man of -business--I, the cautious and reserved Humphrey Statham--perhaps I too -have had my experiences which would work into a strange story! A story -I may have to tell some day--may have to tell to a man, standing face -to face with him, looking straight into his eyes, and showing him how -he has been delivered into my hands." And Humphrey Statham crossed his -arms before him and let his chin sink upon his breast, as he indulged -in a profound reverie. - -We will anticipate the story which Mr. Statham imagined that he would -some day have to tell under such peculiar circumstances. - -Humphrey Statham's father was a merchant and a man of means, living in -good style in Russell-square; and, though of a somewhat gloomy -temperament and stern demeanour, in his way fond of his son, and -determined that the lad should be educated and prepared for the -position which he would afterwards have to assume. Humphrey's mother -was dead--had died soon after his birth--he had no brothers or -sisters; and as Mr. Statham had never married again, the household was -conducted by his sister, a meek long-suffering maiden lady, to whom -hebdomadal attendance at the Foundling Chapel was the one joy in life. -It had first been intended that the child should be educated at home; -but he seemed so out of place in the big old-fashioned house, so -strange in the company of his grave father or melancholy aunt, that, -to prevent his being given over entirely to the servants, whom he -liked very much, and with whom he spent most of his time, he was sent -at an early age to a preparatory establishment, and then transferred -to a grammar-school of repute in the neighbourhood of London. He was a -dare-devil boy, full of fun and mischief, capital at cricket and -football, and though remarkably quick by nature, and undoubtedly -possessing plenty of appreciative common-sense and savoir faire, yet -taking no position in the school, and held in very cheap estimation by -his master. The half-yearly reports which, together with the bills for -education and extras, were placed inside Master Humphrey's box, on the -top of his neatly-packed clothes, and accompanied him home at every -vacation from Canehambury, did not tend to make Mr. Statham any the -less stern, or his manner to his son any more indulgent. The boy -knew--he could not help knowing--that his father was wealthy and -influential, and he had looked forward to his future without any fear, -and, indeed, without very much concern. He thought he should like to -go into the army, which meant to wear a handsome uniform and do little -or nothing, to be petted by the ladies, of whose charms he had already -shown himself perfectly cognisant, and to lead a life of luxury and -ease. But Mr. Statham had widely different views. Although he had -succeeded to his business, he had vastly improved it since he became -its master, and had no idea of surrendering so lucrative a concern to -a stranger, or of letting it pass out of the family. As he had worked, -so should his son work in his turn; and accordingly, Master Humphrey -on his removal from Canehambury was sent to a tutor resident in one of -the Rhineland towns, with a view to his instruction in French and -German, and to his development from a careless, high-spirited lad into -a man of business and of the world. - -The German tutor, a dreamy misty transcendentalist, was eminently -unfitted for the charge intrusted to him. He gave the boy certain -books, and left him to read them or not, as he chose; he set him -certain tasks, but never took the trouble to see how they had been -performed, or, indeed, whether they had been touched at all, till he -was remarkably astonished after a short time to find his pupil -speaking very excellent German, and once or twice took the trouble to -wonder how "Homfrie," as he called him, could have acquired such a -mastery of the language. Had an explanation of the marvel ever been -asked of Humphrey himself, he could have explained it very readily. -The town selected for his domicile was one of the celebrated -art-academies of Germany, a place where painters of all kinds flocked -from all parts to study under the renowned professors therein -resident. A jovial, thriftless, kindly set of Bohemians these -painters, in the strict sense of the word, impecunious to a degree, -now working from morn till eve for days together, now not touching -pencil or maulstick for weeks, living in a perpetual fog of tobacco, -and spending their nights in beer-drinking and song-singing, in cheap -epicureanism and noisy philosophical discussions. To this society of -careless convives Humphrey Statham obtained a ready introduction, and -among them soon established himself as a prime favourite. The bright -face and interminable spirits of "Gesellschap's Englander," as he was -called (Gesellschap was the name of his tutor), made him welcome -everywhere. He passed his days in lounging from studio to studio, -smoking pipes and exchanging jokes with their denizens, occasionally -standing for a model for his hosts, now with bare neck and arms -appearing as a Roman gladiator, now with casque and morion as a young -Flemish burgher of Van Artevelde's guard, always ready, always -obliging, roaring at his own linguistic mistakes, but never failing to -correct them; while at night at the painters' club, the Malkasten, or -the less aristocratic Kneipe, his voice was the cheeriest in the -chorus, his wit the readiest in suggesting tableaux vivants, or in -improvising practical jokes. - -A pleasant life truly, but not, perhaps, a particularly reputable one. -Certainly not one calculated for the formation of a City man of -business according to Mr. Statham's interpretation of the term. When -at the age of twenty the young man tore himself away from his Bohemian -comrades, who kissed him fervently, and wept beery tears at his -departure, and, in obedience to his father's commands, returned to -England and to respectability, to take up his position in the paternal -counting-house, Mr. Statham was considerably more astonished than -gratified at the manner in which his son's time had been passed, and -at its too evident results. About Humphrey there was nothing which -could be called slang in the English sense of the term, certainly -nothing vulgar; but there was a reckless abandon, a defiance of set -propriety, a superb scorn for the respectable conventionality -regulating the movements and the very thoughts of the circle in which -Mr. Statham moved, which that worthy gentleman observed with horror, -and which he considered almost as loathsome as vice itself. Previous -to his presentation to the establishment over which he was to rule, -Humphrey's long locks were clipped away, his light downy beard shaved -off, his fantastic garments exchanged for sad-coloured soberly-cut -clothes; and when this transformation had been accomplished, the young -man was taken into the City and placed in the hands of Mr. Morrison -the chief clerk, who was enjoined to give a strict account of his -business qualifications. Mr. Morrison's report did not tend to -dissipate the disappointment which had fallen like a blow on the old -man's mind. Humphrey could talk German as glibly and with as good an -accent as any Rhinelander from Manheim to Düsseldorf; he had picked up -a vast amount of conversational French from the French artists who had -formed part of his jolly society; and had command of an amount of -argot which would have astonished Monsieur Philarète Chasles himself; -but he had never been in the habit of either reading or writing -anything but the smallest scraps of notes; and when Mr. Morrison -placed before him a four-sided letter from their agent at Hamburg, -couched in commercial German phraseology, and requested him to -re-translate and answer it, Humphrey's expressive face looked so -woe-begone and he boggled so perceptibly over the manuscript, that one -of the junior clerks saw the state of affairs at a glance, and -confidentially informed his neighbour at the next desk that "young S. -was up a tree." - -It was impossible to hide these shortcomings from Mr. Statham, who was -anxiously awaiting Mr. Morrison's report; and after reading it, and -assuring himself of its correctness by a personal examination of his -son, his manner, which ever since Humphrey's return had been frigid -and reserved, grew harsh and stern. He took an early opportunity of -calling Humphrey into his private room, and of informing him that he -should have one month's probation, and that if he did not signally -improve by the end of that time, he would be removed from the -office, as his father did not choose to have one of his name the -laughing-stock of those employed by him. The young man winced under -this speech, which he received in silence, but in five minutes after -leaving his father's presence his mind was made up. He would go -through the month's probation, since it was expected of him, but he -would not make the smallest attempt to improve himself; and he would -leave his future to chance. Punctually, on the very day that the month -expired, Mr. Statham again sent for his son; told him he had -discovered no more interest in, or inclination for, the business than -he had shown on his first day of joining the house, and that in -consequence he must give up all idea of becoming a partner, or, -indeed, of having anything farther to do with the establishment. An -allowance of two hundred pounds a year would be paid to him during his -father's lifetime, and would be bequeathed to him in his father's -will; he must never expect to receive anything else, and Mr. Statham -broadly hinted, in conclusion, that it would be far more agreeable -to him if his son would take up his residence anywhere than in -Russell-square, and that he should feel particularly relieved if he -never saw him again. - -This arrangement suited Humphrey Statham admirably. Two hundred a year -to a very young man, who has never had any command of money, is an -important sum. He left the counting-house; and whatever respect and -regard he may have felt for his father had been obliterated by the -invariable sternness and opposition with which all his advances had -been received. Two hundred a year! He would be off back at once to -Rhineland, where, among the painters, he could live like a prince with -such an income; and he went--and in six months came back again. The -thing was changed somehow; it was not as it used to be. There were the -same men, indeed, living the same kind of life, equally glad to -welcome their English comrade, and to give him the run of their -studios and their clubs and kneipes; but after a time this kind of -life seemed very flat and vapid to Humphrey Statham. The truth is, -that during his six weeks' office experience he had seen something of -London; and on reflection he made up his mind that, after all, it was -perhaps a more amusing place than any of the Rhineland towns. On his -return to London he took a neat lodging, and for four or five years -led a purposeless idle life, such a life as is led by hundreds of -young men who are burdened with that curse--a bare sufficiency, -scarcely enough to keep them, more than enough to prevent them from -seeking employment, and to dull any aspirations which they may -possess. It was during this period of his life that Humphrey made the -acquaintance of Tom Durham, whose gaiety, recklessness, and charm of -manner, fascinated him at once; and he himself took a liking to the -frank, generous, high-spirited young man, Tom Durham's knowledge of -the world made him conscious that, though indolent, and to a certain -extent dissipated, Humphrey Statham was by no means depraved, and to -his friend Mr. Durham therefore exhibited only the best side of his -nature. He was engaged in some wild speculations just at that time, -and it was while careering over the country with Tom Durham in search -of a capitalist to float some marvellous invention of that fertile -genius, that Humphrey Statham met with an adventure which completely -altered the current of his life. - -They were making Leeds their headquarters, but Tom Durham had gone -over to Batley for a day or two, to see the owner of a shoddy mill, -who was reported to be both rich and speculative; and Humphrey was -left alone. He was strolling about in the evening, thinking what a -horrible place Leeds was, and what a large sum of money a man ought to -be paid for living in it, when he was overtaken and passed by a girl, -walking rapidly in the direction of Headingley. The glimpse he caught -of her face showed him that it was more than ordinarily beautiful, and -Humphrey quickened his lazy pace, and followed her until he saw her -safely housed in a small neat dwelling. The next day he made inquiries -about this girl, the transient glance of whose face had made such an -impression upon him, and found that her name was Emily Mitchell; that -her father, now dead, had been a booking-clerk in one of the large -factories; that she was employed in a draper's shop; and that she -lived with her uncle and aunt in the small house to which Humphrey had -tracked her. Humphrey Statham speedily made Miss Mitchell's -acquaintance, found her more beautiful than he had imagined, and as -fascinating as she was lovely; fascinating not in the ordinary sense -of the word, not by coquetry or blandishment, but by innate -refinement, grace, and innocence. After seeing her and talking with -her a few times, Humphrey could no longer control his feelings, and -finding that he was not indifferent to Emily--his good looks, his -frank nature, and his easy bearing, well qualified him to find favour -in the eyes of such a girl--he spoke out plainly to her uncle, and -told him how matters stood. He was in love with Emily, he said, and -most anxious to marry, but his income was but 200_l_. a year, not -sufficient to maintain her, even in the quiet way both he and she -desired they should live; but he was young, and though he had been -idle, now that he had an incentive to work he would show what he could -do. It was possible that, seeing the difference in him, his father -might be inclined to relent, and put something in his way, or some of -his father's friends might give him employment. He would go to London -and seek for it at once, and so soon as he saw his way to earning -200_l_. a year in addition to his annuity, he would return and claim -Emily for his wife. - -In this view the uncle, a practical old north-countryman, coincided; -the young people could not marry upon the income which Mr. Humphrey -possessed; they had plenty of life before them; and when the young man -came back and proved that he had carried out his promise, no obstacle -should be made by Emily's friends. - -Humphrey Statham returned to London, and wrote at once to his father, -telling him that he had seen the errors of his youth, and was prepared -to apply himself to any sort of business which his father could place -in his way. In reply he received a curt note from Mr. Statham, stating -that the writer did not know of any position which Humphrey could -competently fulfil, reminding him of the agreement between them, and -hinting dislike at the reopening of any correspondence or -communication. Foiled at this point, Humphrey Statham secretly took -the advice of old Mr. Morrison, the chief clerk in his father's -office, a kindly as well as a conscientious man, who had endeavoured -to soften the young man's lot during the few weeks he had passed in -the dull counting-house, and at his recommendation Humphrey -established himself as a ship-broker, and for two years toiled on from -morning till night, doing a small and not very remunerative business, -but proving to such as employed him that he possessed industry, -energy, and tact. During this period he ran down to Leeds, at four -distinct intervals, to pass a couple of days with Emily, whose uncle -had died, and who remained in the house of her helpless bed-ridden -aunt. At the end of this time Mr. Statham died, leaving in his will a -sum of 10,000_l_. to his son, "as a recognition of his attempt to -gain a livelihood for himself;" and bequeathing the rest of his -fortune to various charities. - -So at last Humphrey Statham saw his way to bringing Emily home in -triumph as his wife, and with this object he started: for Leeds, -immediately after his father's funeral. He had written to her to -announce his arrival, and was surprised not to find her awaiting him -on the platform. Then he jumped into a cab, and hurried out to -Headingley. On his arrival at the little house, the stupid girl who -attended on the bed-ridden old woman seemed astonished at seeing him, -and answered his inquiries after Emily inconsequently, and with -manifest terror. With a sudden sinking of the heart Humphrey made his -way to the old lady's bedside, and from her quivering lips learned -that Emily had disappeared. - -Yes! Emily had fled from her home, so said her aunt, and so said the -few neighbours who, roused at the sight of a cab, had come crowding -into the cottage. About a week ago, they told him, she had gone out in -the morning to her work as usual, and had never returned. She left no -letter of explanation, and no trace of her flight had been discovered; -there was no slur upon her character, and, so far as their knowledge -went, she had made no strange acquaintance. She received a number of -letters, which she had always said were from Mr. Statham. What did he -come down there for speering after Emily, when, of all persons in the -world, he was the likeliest to tell them where she had been? - -Humphrey Statham fell back like a man stunned by a heavy blow. He had -come down there to carry out the wish of his life; to tell the woman -whom, in the inmost depths of his big manly heart he worshipped, that -the hope of his life was at last accomplished, and that he was at -length enabled to take her away, to give her a good position, and to -devote the remainder of his existence to her service. She was not -there to hear his triumphant avowal--she had fled, no one knew where, -and he saw plainly enough that, not merely was all sympathy withheld -from him, but that he was suspected by the neighbours to have been -privy to, and probably the accomplice of, her flight, and that his -arrival there a few days afterwards with the apparent view of making -inquiries was merely an attempt to hoodwink them, and to divert the -search which might possibly be made after her into another direction. - -Under such circumstances, an ordinary man would have fallen into a -fury, and burst out into wild lamentation or passionate invective; but -Humphrey Statham was not an ordinary man. He knew himself guiltless of -the crime of which by Emily's friends and neighbours he was evidently -suspected, but he also knew that the mere fact of her elopement, or at -all events of her quitting her home without consulting him on the -subject, showed that she had no love for him, and that therefore he -had no right to interfere with her actions. He told the neighbours -this in hard, measured accents, with stony eyes and colourless cheeks. -But when he saw that even then they disbelieved him, that even then -they thought he knew more of Emily Mitchell's whereabouts than he -cared to say, he instructed the local authorities to make such -inquiries as lay in their power, and, offered a reward for Emily -Mitchell's discovery to the police. He returned, to London an altered -man; his one hope in life had been rudely extinguished, and there was -nothing now left for him to care for. He had a competency, but it was -valueless to him now; the only one way left to him of temporarily -putting aside his great grief was by plunging into work, and busying -his mind with those commercial details which at one time he had so -fervently abhorred, and now, when it was no longer a necessity for -him, business came to him in galore, his name and fame were -established in the great City community, and no man in his position -was more respected, or had a larger number of clients. - -"Too late comes this apple to me," muttered Humphrey Statham, quoting -Owen Meredith, as he shook himself out of the reverie into which he -had fallen. "Nearly four years ago since I paid my last visit to -Leeds; more than three since, as a last resource, I consulted the -Scotland-yard people, and instructed them to do their best in -elucidating the mystery. The Scotland-yard people are humbugs; I have -never heard of them since, and shall never hear of Emily again. Good -God, how I loved her! how I love her still! Was it that she stands out -in my memory as my first and only real love, lit up perhaps by boyish -fancy--the same fancy that makes me imagine that my old bare cock-loft -in the Adelphi was better than my present comfortable rooms in -Sackville-street. _Dans un grenier qu'on est bien à vingt ans_. No, -she was more than that. She was the only woman that ever inspired me -with anything like real affection, and I worship her--her memory I -suppose I must call it now--as I worshipped her own sweet self an hour -before I learned of her flight. There, there is an end of that. Now -let me finish-up this lot, and leave all in decent order, so that if I -end my career in a snipe-bog, or one of the Tresco pilot-boats goes -down while I am on board of her, old Collins may have no difficulty in -disposing of the contents of the safe." - -Out of the mass of papers which had originally been lying before him, -only two were left. He took up one of them and read the indorsement, -"T. Durham--to be delivered to him or his written order (Akhbar K)." -This paper he threw into the second drawer of the safe; then he took -up the last, inscribed "Copy of instructions to Tatlow in regard to E. -M." - -"Instructions to Tatlow, indeed!" said Humphrey Statham, with curling -lip; "it is more than three years since those instructions were given, -but hitherto they have borne no fruit. I have half a mind to destroy -them; it is scarcely possible--" - -His reflections were interrupted by a knock at the door. Bidden to -come in, Mr. Collins, the confidential clerk, put in his head, and -murmured, "Mr. Tatlow, from Scotland-yard." - -"In the very nick of time," said Humphrey Statham, with a half-smile; -"send Mr. Tatlow in at once." - - - - -CHAPTER X. -MR. TATLOW ON THE TRACK. - - -"Mr. Tatlow?" said Humphrey Statham, as his visitor entered. - -"Servant, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, a Somewhat ordinary-looking man, -dressed in black. - -"I had no idea this case had been placed in your hands, Mr. Tatlow," -said Humphrey. "I have heard of you, though I have never met you -before in business, and have always understood you to be an -experienced officer." - -"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, with a short bow. "What may have -altered your opinion in that respect now?" - -"The length of time which has elapsed since I first mentioned this -matter in Scotland-yard. That was three years ago, and from that day -to this I have had no communication with the authorities." - -"Well, sir, you see," said Mr. Tatlow, "different people have -different ways of doing business; and when the inspector put this case -into my hands, he said to me, 'Tatlow,' said he, 'this is a case which -will most likely take considerable time to unravel, and it's one in -which there will be a great many ups and downs, and the scent will -grow warm and the scent will grow cold, and you will think you have -got the whole explanation of the story at one moment, and the next -you'll think you know nothing at all about it. The young woman is -gone,' the inspector says, 'and you'll hear of her here and you'll -hear of her there, and you'll be quite sure you've got hold of the -right party, and then you'll find it's nothing of the sort, and be -inclined to give up the business in despair; and then suddenly, -perhaps, when you're engaged on something else, you'll strike into the -right track, and bring it home in the end. Now, it's no good worrying -the gentleman,' said the inspector, 'with every little bit of news you -hear, or with anything that may happen to strike you in the inquiry, -for you'll be raising his spirits at one time, and rendering him more -wretched in another; and my advice to you is, not to go near him until -you have got something like a clear and complete case to lay before -him.' Those were the inspector's words to me, sir--upon which advice I -acted." - -"Very good counsel, Mr. Tatlow, and very sensible of you to follow -it," said Humphrey Statham. "Am I to understand from this visit that -your case is now complete?" - -"Well, sir, as complete as I can make it at present," said Mr. Tatlow. - -"You have found her?" cried Humphrey Statham eagerly, the blood -flushing into his cheeks. - -"I know where the young woman is now," said Mr. Tatlow evasively; "but -do not build upon that, sir," he added, as he marked his questioner's -look of anxiety. "We were too late, sir; you will never see her -again." - -"Too late!" echoed Humphrey. "What do you mean? Where is she? I insist -upon knowing!" - -"In Hendon churchyard, sir," said Mr. Tatlow quietly; "that's where -the young woman is now." - -Humphrey Statham bowed his head, and remained, silent for some few -moments; then, without raising his eyes, he said: "Tell me about it, -Mr. Tatlow, please; I should like to have all details from first to -last." - -"Don't you think," said Mr. Tatlow kindly--"don't you think I might -look in some other time, sir?--you don't seem very strong just now; -and it's no use a man trying his nerves when there is no occasion for -it." - -"Thank you," said Humphrey Statham, "I would sooner hear the story -now. I have been ill, and am going out of town, and it may be some -little-time before I return, and I should like, while I am away, to be -able to think over what has--to know about--tell me, please, at once." - -"The story is not a long one, sir," said Mr. Tatlow; "and when you see -how plain and clear it tells, I daresay you will think the case was -not a difficult one, for all it took so long to work out; but you see -this is fancy-work, as I may call it, that one has to take up in the -intervals of regular business, and to lay aside again whenever a great -robbery or a murder crops up, and just as one is warm and interested -in it, one may be sent off to Paris or New York, and when you come -back you have almost to begin again. There was one advantage in this -case, that I had it to myself from the start, and hadn't to work up -anybody else's line. I began," continued Mr. Tatlow, after a momentary -pause, taking a notebook from his pocket and reading from its pages, -"at the very beginning, and first saw the draper people at Leeds, -where Miss Mitchell was employed. They spoke very highly of her, as a -good, industrious girl, and were very sorry when she went away. She -gave them a regular month's notice, stating that she had an -opportunity of bettering herself by getting an engagement at a -first-class house in London. Did the Leeds drapers, Hodder by name, -say anything to Miss M.'s friends? No, they did not," continued Mr. -Tatlow, answering himself; "most likely they would have mentioned it -if the uncle had been alive--a brisk, intelligent man--but he was dead -at that time, and no one was left but the bedridden old woman. After -her niece's flight she sent down to Hodder and Company, and they told -her what Miss M. had told them, though the old woman and her friends -plainly did not believe it. It was not until some weeks afterwards -that one of Hodder's girls had a letter from a friend of hers, who had -previously been with their firm, but was now engaged at Mivenson's, -the great drapers in Oxford-street, London, to say that Emily Mitchell -had joined their establishment; she was passing under the name of -Moore, but this girl knew her at once, and agreed to keep her -confidence. Now to page forty-nine. That's only a private memorandum -for my own information," said Mr. Tatlow, turning over the leaves -of his book. "Page forty-nine. Here you are! Mivenson's, in -Oxford-street--old gentleman out of town--laid up with the gout--saw -eldest son, partner in the house--recollected Miss Moore perfectly, -and had come to them with some recommendation--never took young -persons into their house unless they were properly recommended, and -always kept register of reference. Looking into register found Emily -M. had been recommended by Mrs. Calverley, one of their customers, -most respectable lady, living in Great Walpole-street. Made inquiry -myself about Mrs. C., and made her out to be a prim, elderly, -evangelical party, wife of City man in large way of business. Emily M. -did not remain long at Mivenson's. Not a strong girl; had had a -fainting fit or two while in their employ, and one day she wrote to -say she was too ill to come to work, and they never saw her again. -Could they give him the address from which she wrote?" Certainly. -Address-book sent for; 143 Great College-street, Camden Town. Go to -page sixty. Landlady at Great College-street perfectly recollected -Miss Moore. Quiet, delicate girl, regular in her habits; never out -later than ten at night; keeping no company, and giving no trouble. -Used to be brought home regular every night by a gentleman--always -the same gentleman, landlady thought, but couldn't swear, as she -had never made him out properly, though she had often tried. Seen -from the area, landlady remarked, people looked so different. -Gentleman always took leave of Miss Moore at the door, and was never -seen again in the neighbourhood until he brought her back the next -night. Landlady recollected Miss Moore's going away. When she gave -notice about leaving, explained to landlady that she was ill and was -ordered change of air; didn't seem to be any worse than she had been -all along, but, of course, it was not her (the landlady's) place to -make any objection. At the end of the week a cab was sent for, Miss -Moore's boxes were put into it, and she drove away. Did the landlady -hear the address given to the cabman? She did. 'Waterloo Station, -Richmond line.' That answer seemed to me to screw up the whole -proceedings; trying to find the clue to a person, who, months before, -had gone away from the Waterloo Station, seemed as likely as feeling -for a threepenny-piece in a corn-sack. I made one or two inquiries, -but heard nothing, and had given the whole thing up for as good as -lost, when--let me see, page two hundred and one. - -"Here you are! Memoranda in the case of Benjamin Biggs, cashier in the -Limpid Water Company, charged with embezzlement. Fine game he kept up, -did Mr. Biggs. Salary about two hundred a year, and lived at the rate -of ten thousand. Beautiful place out of town, just opposite Bobbington -Lock, horses, carriages, and what you please. I was engaged in Biggs' -matter, and I had been up to Bobbington one afternoon--for there was a -notion just then that Biggs hadn't got clear off and might come home -again--so I thought I'd take a lodging and hang about the village for -a week or two. It was pleasant summer weather, and I've a liking for -the river and for such a place as Bushey Park, though not with many -opportunities of seeing much of either. I had been through Biggs' -house, and was standing in Messenger's boat-yard, looking at the -parties putting off in the water, when a voice close to my ear says, -'Hallo, Tatlow! What's up?' and looking round I saw Mr. Netherton -Whiffle, the leading junior at the Bailey, and the most rising man at -the C.C.C. I scarcely knew him at first, for he had got on a round -straw hat instead of his wig, and a tight-fitting jersey instead of -his gown; and when I recognised him and told him what business I had -come down upon, he only laughed, and said that Biggs knew more than me -and all Scotland-yard put together; and the best thing that I could do -was to go into the 'Anglers' and put my name to what I liked at his -expense. He's a very pleasant fellow, Mr. Whiffle; and while I was -drinking something iced I told him about my wanting a lodging, and he -recommended me to a very respectable little cottage kept by the mother -of his gardener. A pretty place it was to not looking on the river, -but standing in a nice neatly-kept garden, with the big trees of -Bushey Park at the back of you, and the birds singing beautiful. I -fancy, when I am superannuated I should like a place of that sort for -myself and Mrs. T. Nice rooms too; the lodgings, a bedroom and -sitting-room, but a cut above my means. I was saying so to the old -woman--motherly old creature she was--as we were looking round the -bedroom, when I caught sight of something which fixed my attention at -once. It was an old black box, like a child's school-trunk, with on -the outside lid 'E. M.' in brass letters, and a railway label of the -G.N.R., 'Leeds to London,' still sticking on it. Something told me I -had 'struck ile,' as the Yankees say; and I asked the old woman to -whom that box belonged. 'To her,' she said, she supposed; 'leastways -it had been there for many months, left behind by a lodger who had -gone away and never sent for it.' It took a little hot rum-and-water -to get the lodger's story out of that old lady, sir; not a refreshing -drink on a summer's day, but required to be gone through in the course -of duty, and it was worth it, as you will see. - -"In the previous summer the rooms had been taken by a gentleman who -gave the name of Smith, and who the next day brought down the young -lady and her boxes. She was pretty but very delicate-looking, and -seemed to have very bad health. He came down three or four times a -week, and then she brightened up a bit, and seemed a little more -cheerful; but when she was alone she was dreadfully down, and the -landlady had seen her crying by the hour together. They lived very -quietly; no going out, no water-parties, no people to see them, bills of -lodging paid for every week; quite the regular thing. This went on for -two or three months; then the gentleman's visits grew less frequent, he -only came down once or twice a week, and, on more than one occasion, -the old woman sitting in the kitchen thought she heard high words -between them. One Saturday afternoon, when Mr. Smith had gone away, -about an hour after his departure the lady packed all her things, paid -up the few shillings which remained after his settlement, and ordered a -fly to take her to the station. There was no room on the fly for the -little box which I had seen, and she said she would send an address to -which it could be forwarded. On the Monday evening Mr. Smith came down -as usual; he was very much astonished to find the lady gone, but, after; -reading a letter which she had left for him, he seemed very much -agitated, and sent out for some brandy; then he paid the week's rent, -which was demanded instead of the notice, and left the place. The box -had never been sent for, nor had the old woman ever heard anything -farther of the lady or the gentleman. - -"The story hangs together pretty well, don't it, sir? E. M. and the -railway ticket on the box (r forgot to say that I looked inside, and -saw the maker's, name, 'Hudspeth, of Boar-lane, Leeds') looked pretty -much like Emily Mitchell, and the old woman's description of Mr. Smith -tallied tolerably with that given by the lodging-house keeper in -Camden Town, who used to notice the gentleman from the area. But there -we were shut up tight again. The flyman recollected taking the lady to -the station, but no one saw her take her ticket; and there was I at a -standstill. - -"It is not above a fortnight ago, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, in -continuation, "that I struck on the scent again; not that I had -forgotten it, or hadn't taken the trouble to pull at anything which -I thought might be one of its threads when it came in my way. A -twelvemonth ago I was down at Leeds, after a light-hearted chap -who had forgotten his own name, and written his master's across the -back of a three-and-sixpenny bill-stamp; and I thought I'd take the -opportunity of looking in at Hodder the draper's, and ask whether -anything had been heard of Miss M. The firm hadn't heard of her, and -was rather grumpy about being asked; but I saw the girl from whom I -had got some information before--she, you recollect, sir, who had a -friend at Mivenson's in Oxford-street, and told me about E. M. being -there--and I asked her and her young man to tea, and set the pumps -agoing. But she was very bashful and shamefaced, and would not say a -word, though evidently she knew something; and it was only when she -had gone up to put her bonnet on, that I got out of the young man that -Emily Mitchell had been down there, and had been seen in the dusk of -the evening going up to the old cottage at Headingley, and carrying a -baby in her arms." - -"A baby!" cried Humphrey Statham. - -"Yes, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, "a female child a few weeks old. She was -going up to her aunt, no doubt, but the old woman was dead. When they -heard at Hodder's that Emily was about the place, and with a child -too, the firm was furious, and gave orders that none of their -people should speak to or have any communication with her; but this -girl--Mary Keith she's called; I made a note of her name, sir, -thinking you would like to know it--she found out where the poor -creature was, and offered to share her wages with her and the child to -save them from starvation." - -"Good God!" groaned Humphrey Statham; "was she in want, then?" - -"Pretty nearly destitute, sir," said Tatlow; "would have starved -probably, if it had not been for Mary Keith. She owned up to that -girl, sir, all her story, told her everything, except the name of the -child's father, and that she could not get out of her anyhow. She -spoke about you too, and said you were the only person in the world -who had really loved her, and that she had treated you shamefully. -Miss Keith wanted her to write to the child's father, and tell him how -badly off she was; but she said she would sooner die in the streets -than ask him for money. What she would do, she said, would be to go -to you--she wanted to see you once more before she died--and to -ask you to be a friend to her child! She knew you would do it, she -said--though she had behaved to you so badly--for the sake of old -days. - -"I sha'n't have to try you with very much more, sir," said Tatlow -kindly, as he heard a deep groan break from Humphrey Statham's lips, -and saw his head sink deeper on his breast. "Miss Keith advised E. M. -to write to you; but she said no--she wanted to look upon your face -again before she died, she said, and she knew that event was not far -off. So she parted with her old friend, taking a little money, just -enough to pay her fare up to town. She must have changed her mind -about that, from what I learned afterwards. I made inquiries here and -there for her in London in what I thought likely places, but I could -hear nothing of her, so the scent grew cold, and still my case was -incomplete. I settled it up at last, as I say, about a fortnight ago. -I had occasion to make some inquiries at Hendon workhouse about a -young man who was out on the tramp, and who, as I learned, had slept -there for a night or two in the previous week; and I was talking -matters over with the master, an affable kind of man, with more -common-sense than one usually finds in officials of his sort, who are -for the most part pig-headed and bad-tempered. The chap that I was -after had been shopman to a grocer in the City, and had run away with -his master's daughter, having all the time another wife; and this I -suppose led the conversation to such matters; and I, always with your -case floating in my head, asked him whether there were many instances -of foundlings and suchlike being left upon their hands? He said no; -that they had been very lucky--only had one since he had been master -there, and that one they had been fortunate enough to get rid of. How -was that, I asked him; what was the case? Case of a party"--and here -Mr. Tatlow referred to his note-book again--"found the winter before -last by Squire Mullins' hind lying against a haystack in the four-acre -meadow, pressing her baby to her breast--both of them half-frozen. She -was taken to the workhouse, but only lived two days, and never spoke -during that time. Her shoes were worn very thin, and she had parted -with most of her clothing, though what she kept had been good, and -still was decent. No wedding-ring, of course. One thing she hadn't -parted with; the master's wife saw the old woman try to crib it from -the dead body round whose neck it hung, and took it from her hand. It -was a tiny gold cross--yes, sir, I see you know it all now--inscribed -'H. to E., 30th March 1864'--the very trinket which you had described -to our people; and when I heard that, I knew I had tracked Emily -Mitchell home at last." - -Mr. Tatlow ceased speaking; but it was some minutes before Humphrey -Statham raised his head. When at length he looked up, there were -traces of tears on his cheeks, and his voice was broken with emotion -as he said, "The child--what about it? did it live?" - -"Yes, sir," replied Tatlow, "the child lived, and fell very -comfortably upon its legs. It was a bright, pretty little creature, -and one day it attracted the notice of a lady who had no children of -her own, and, after some inquiries, persuaded her husband to adopt -it." - -"What is her name, and where does she live?" asked Mr. Statham. - -"She lives at Hendon, sir, and her name is Claxton. Mr. Claxton is, -oddly enough, a sleeping partner in the house of Mr. Calverley, whose -good lady first recommended E. M. to Mivenson's, as you may -recollect." - -There was silence for full ten minutes--a period which Mr. Tatlow -occupied in a deep consultation with his note-book, in looking out of -window, at the tips of his boots, at the wall in front of him; -anywhere rather than at the bowed head of Humphrey Statham, who -remained motionless, with his chin buried in his chest. Mr. Tatlow had -seen a good deal of suffering in his time, and as he noticed, without -apparently looking at the tremulous emotion of Mr. Statham's hands, -tremulous despite their closely-interlaced fingers, and the shudder -which from time to time ran through his massive frame, he knew what -silent anguish was being bravely undergone, and would on no account -have allowed the sufferer to imagine that his mental tortures were -either seen or understood. When Humphrey Statham at length raised his -head, he found his visitor intently watching the feeble gyrations of a -belated fly, and apparently perfectly astonished at hearing his name -mentioned. - -"Mr. Tatlow," said Humphrey, in a voice which, despite his exertions -to raise it, sounded low and muffled, "I am very much your debtor; -what I said at the commencement of our interview about the delay -which, as I imagined, had occurred in clearing-up this mystery, was -spoken in ignorance, and without any knowledge of the facts. I now see -the difficulties attendant upon the inquiry, and I am only astonished -that they should have been so successfully surmounted, and that you -should have been enabled to clear-up the case as perfectly as you have -done. That the result of your inquiries has been to arouse in me the -most painful memories, and to--and to reduce me in fact to the state -in which you see me--is no fault of yours. You have discharged your -duty with great ability and wondrous perseverance, and I have to thank -you more than all for the delicacy which you have shown during the -inquiry, and during the narration to me of its results." - -Mr. Tatlow bowed, but said nothing. - -"For the ordinary charges of the investigation," continued Humphrey -Statham, "your travelling expenses and suchlike, I settle, I believe, -with the people at Scotland-yard; but," he added, as he took his -cheque-book from the right-hand drawer of his desk, "I wish you to -accept for yourself this cheque for fifty pounds, together with my -hearty thanks." - -He filled-up the cheque, tore it from the book, and pushed it over to -the detective as he spoke, at the same time holding out his hand. - -Mr. Tatlow rose to his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed. It had -often been his good fortune to be well paid for his services, but to -be shaken hands with by a man in the position of Mr. Statham, had not -previously come in his way. He was confused for an instant, but -compromised the matter by gravely saluting after the military fashion -with his left hand, while he gave his right to his employer. - -"Proud, sir, and grateful," he said. "It has been a long case, though -not a particularly stiff one, and I think it has been worked clean out -to the end. I could have wished--but, however, that is neither here -nor there," said Mr. Tatlow, checking himself with a cough. "About the -child, sir; don't you wish any farther particulars about the child?" - -"No," said Humphrey Statham, who was fast relapsing into his moody -state; "no, nothing now, at all events. If I want any farther -information, I shall send to you, Tatlow, direct; you may depend upon -that. Now, once more, thanks, and good-bye." - - -Half an hour had elapsed since Mr. Tatlow had taken his departure, and -still Humphrey Statham sat at his desk buried in profound reverie, his -chin resting on his breast, his arms plunged almost elbow-deep into -his pockets. At length he roused himself, locked away the cheque-book -which lay fluttering open before him, and passing his hand dreamily -through the fringe of hair on his temples, muttered to himself: - -"And so there is an end of it. To die numbed and frozen in a -workhouse-bed. To bear a child to a man for whom she ruined my life, -and who in his turn ruined hers. My Emily perishing with cold and -want! I shall meet him yet, I know I shall. Long before I heard of -this story, when I looked upon him only as a successful rival, who was -living with her in comfort and luxury, and laughing over my -disappointment, even then I felt convinced that the hour would come -when I should hold him by the throat and make him beg his miserable -life at my hands. Now, when I know that his treatment of her has been -worse even than his treatment of me, he will need to beg hard indeed -for mercy, if I once come across his path. Calverley, eh?" he -continued, after a moment's pause, and in a softer voice, "the husband -of the lady who has adopted the child, is a partner in Calverley's -house, Tatlow said. That is the house for which Tom Durham has gone -out as agent. How strangely things come about! for surely Mrs. -Calverley, doubtless the wife of the senior partner of the firm, is -the mother of my old friend Martin Garwood? What two totally different -men! Without doubt unacquainted with each other, and yet with this -curious link of association in my mind. Her child! Emily's child -within a couple of hours' ride! I could easily find some excuse to -introduce myself to this Mrs. Claxton, and to get a glimpse of the -girl--she is Emily's flesh and blood, and most probably would be like -her. I have half a mind to--No, I am not well enough for any extra -excitement or exertion, and the child, Tatlow says, is happy and -well-cared for; I can see her on my return--I can then manage the -introduction in a more proper and formal manner; I can hunt-up Martin -Gurwood, and through him and his mother I can obtain an introduction -to this partner in Calverley's house, and must trust to my own powers -of making myself agreeable to continue the acquaintance on a footing -of intimacy, which will give me constant opportunities of seeing -Emily's child. Now there is more than ever necessity to get out of -this at once. All clear now, except those two packets; one Tom -Durham's memorandum, which must be kept anyhow, so in it goes -into the safe. The other, the instructions for Tatlow--that can be -destroyed--no, there is no harm in keeping that for a little; one -never knows how things may turn out--in it goes too." And as he spoke -he placed the two packets in the drawer, closed and locked the safe. -"Collins!" he called; and the confidential clerk appeared. "You have -all that you want--the cheques, the duplicate key of the safe, the -pass-book?" - -"Yes, sir," said Collins; "everything except your address." - -"By Jove," said Humphrey Statham, "I had forgotten that! even now I am -undecided. Tossing shall do it. Heads the Drumnovara snipe-bog; tails -the Tresco pilot-boat. Tails it is! the pilot-boat has won. So, -Collins, my address--never to be used except in most urgent -necessity--is, 'P.O., Tresco, Scilly,' left till called for. Now you -have my traps in the outer office; tell them to put them on a hansom -cab, and you will see no more of me for six weeks." - - -As the four-fifty "galloper" for Exeter glided out of the Paddington -Station, Humphrey Statham was seated in it, leisurely cutting the -leaves of the evening paper which he had just purchased. The first -paragraph which met his eye ran as follows: - - -"(REUTER'S TELEGRAM.) - "_Gibraltar_. - - -"The captain of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steam-ship -Masillia, just arrived here, announces the supposed death, by -drowning, of a passenger named Durham, agent to Messrs. Calverley and -Company, of Mincing-lane, who was proceeding to Ceylon. The -unfortunate gentleman retired to bed on the first night of the -vessel's sailing from Southampton, and as he was never seen -afterwards, it is supposed he must have fallen overboard during the -night, when the Masillia was at anchor off Hurst Castle." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -L'AMIE DE LA MAISON. - - -The breakfasts in Great Walpole-street, looked upon as meals, were -neither satisfactory nor satisfying. Of all social gatherings a -breakfast is perhaps the one most difficult to make agreeable to -yourself and your guests. There are men, at other periods of the day -bright, sociable, and chatty, who insist upon breakfasting by -themselves, who glower over their tea and toast, and growl audibly if -their solitude is broken in upon; there are women capable of -everything in the way of self-sacrifice and devotion except getting up -to breakfast. A breakfast after the Scotch fashion, with enormous -quantities of Finnan-haddy, chops, steaks, eggs and ham, jam and -marmalade, tea and coffee, is a good thing; so is a French breakfast -with two delicate cutlets, or a succulent filet, a savoury omelette, a -pint bottle of Nuits, a chasse, and a cigarette. But the morning meals -in Great Walpole-street were not after either of these fashions. After -the servants had risen from their knees, and shuffled out of the room -in Indian file at the conclusion of morning prayers, the butler -re-entered bearing a hissing silver urn, behind which Mrs. Calverley -took up her position, and proceeded to brew a tepid amber-coloured -fluid, which she afterwards dispensed to her guests. The footman had -followed the butler, bearing, in his turn, a dish containing four thin -greasy strips of bacon, laid out side by side in meek resignation, -with a portion of kidney keeping guard over them at either end. There -was a rack filled with dry toast, which looked and tasted like the -cover of an old Latin dictionary; there was a huge bread-platter, with -a scriptural text round its margin, and a huge bread-knife with a -scriptural text on its blade; and on the sideboard, far away in the -distance, was the shadowy outline of what had once been a ham, and a -mountain and a promontory of flesh, with the connecting link between -them almost cut away, representing what had once been a tongue. On two -or three occasions, shortly after Madame Du Tertre had first joined -the household, she mentioned to Mrs. Calverley that she was subject to -headaches, which were only to be gotten rid of by taking a sharp -half-hour's walk in the air immediately after breakfast; the fact -being that Pauline was simply starved, and that if she had been -followed she would have been found in the small room of Monsieur -Verrey's café in Regent-street engaged with a cutlet, a pint of -Beaune, and the _Siècle_ newspaper. To John Calverley, also, these -gruesome repasts were most detestable, but he made up for his enforced -starvation by a substantial and early luncheon in the City. - -On the morning after Humphrey Statham's departure for Cornwall, the -breakfast-party was assembled in Great Walpole-street. But the host -was not among them. He had gone away to his ironworks in the North, as -he told his guest: "on his own vagaries," as his wife had phrased it, -with a defiant snort: and Mrs. Calverley, Madame Du Tertre, and Martin -Gurwood were gathered round the festive board. The two ladies were -sipping the doubtful tea, and nibbling the leathery toast, while Mr. -Garwood, who was an early riser, and who, before taking his morning -constitutional in Guelph Park, had solaced himself with a bowl of -bread-and-milk, had pushed aside his plate, and was reading out from -the _Times_ such scraps of intelligence as he thought might prove -interesting. On a sudden he stopped, the aspect of his face growing -rather grave, as he said: - -"Here is some news, mother, which I am sure will prove distressing to -Mr. Calverley, even if his interests do not suffer from the event -which it records." - -"I can guess what it is," said Mrs. Calverley, in her thin acid voice; -"I have an intuitive idea of what has occurred. I always predicted it, -and I took care to let Mr. Calverley know my opinion--the Swartmoor -Iron works have failed?" - -"No, not so bad as that," said Mr. Gurwood, "nor, indeed, is it any -question of the Swartmoor Ironworks. I will tell you what is said, and -you will be able to judge for yourself how far Mr. Calverley may be -interested." And in the calm, measured tone habitual to him from -constant pulpit practice, Martin Gurwood read out the paragraph which -had so startled Humphrey Statham on the previous evening. - -When Martin Gurwood finished reading, Madame Du Tertre, who had -listened attentively, wheeled round in her chair and looked hard at -Mrs. Calverley. That lady's placidity was, however, perfectly -undisturbed. With her thin bony hand she still continued her -employment of arranging into fantastic shapes the crumbs on the -table-cloth, nor did she seem inclined to speak until Pauline said: - -"To me this seems a sad and terrible calamity. If I, knowing nothing -of this unfortunate gentleman, am grieved at what I hear, surely you, -madame, to whom he was doubtless well known, must feel the shock -acutely." - -"I am glad to say," said Mrs. Calverley coldly, "that I am not called -upon to exhibit any emotion in the present instance. So little does -Mr. Calverley think fit to acquaint me with the details of his -business, that I was not aware that it was in contemplation to -establish an agency at Ceylon, nor did I ever hear of the name of the -person who, doubtless by his own imprudence, seems to have lost his -life." - -"You never saw Mr.--Mr.--how is he called, Monsieur Gurwood?" - -"Durham is the name given here," said Martin, referring to the -newspaper. - -"Ah, you never saw Mr. Durham, madame?" - -"I never saw him; I never even heard Mr. Calverley mention his name." - -"Poor man, poor man!" murmured Madame Du Tertre with downcast eyes; -"lost so suddenly, as your Shakespeare says--'sent to his account with -all his imperfections on his head.' It is terrible to think of; is it -not Monsieur Martin?" - -"To be cut off with our sins yet inexpiated," said Martin Gurwood, not -meeting the searching glance riveted upon him, "is, as you say, Madame -Du Tertre, a terrible thing. Let us trust this unfortunate man was not -wholly unprepared." - -"If he were a friend of Mr. Calverley's," hissed the lady at the end -of the table, "and he must have been to have been placed in a position -of trust, it is, I should say, most improbable that he was fitted for -the sudden change." - -That morning Madame Du Tertre, although her breakfast had been of the -scantiest, did not find it necessary to repair to Verrey's. When the -party broke up she retired to her room, took the precaution of locking -the door, and having something to think out, at once adopted her old -resource of walking up and down. - -She said to herself: "The news has arrived, and just at the time that -I expected it. He has been bold, and everything has turned out exactly -as he could have wished. People will speak kindly of him and mourn -over his fate, while he is far away and living happily, and laughing -in his sleeve at the fools whose compassion he evokes. What would I -give to be there with him on the same terms as those of the old days! -I hate this dull British life, this ghastly house, these people, -precise, exact, and terrible. I loathe the state of formality in which -I live, the restraint and reticence I am obliged to observe! What is -it to me to ride in a carriage by the side of that puppet downstairs, -to sit in the huge dull rooms, to be waited upon by the silent solemn -servants?" And her eyes blazed with fire as she sang in a soft low -voice: - - - "Les gueux, les gueux - Sont les gens heureux; - Ils s'aiment entre eux. - Vivent les gueux!" - - -As she ceased singing she stopped suddenly in her walk, and said, -"What a fool I am to think of such things, to dream of what might have -been, when all my hope and desire is to destroy what is, to discover -the scene of Tom Durham's retreat, and to drive him from the enchanted -land where he and she are now residing! And this can only be done by -steady continuance in my present life, by passive endurance, by -never-flagging energy and perpetual observation. Tiens! Have I not -done some good this morning, even in listening to the bêtise talk of -that silly woman and her sombre son? She had never seen Tom Durham," -she said, "had never heard of him, he has never been brought to the -house: this, then, gives colour to all that I have suspected. It is, -as I imagined, through the influence of the old man Claxton that Tom -was nominated as agent of the house of Calverley. Mr. Calverley -himself probably knows nothing of him, or he would most assuredly have -mentioned the name to his wife, have asked him to dinner, after the -English fashion, before sending him out to such a position. But no, -his very name is unknown to her, and it is evident that he is the sole -protégé of Monsieur Claxton--Claxton, from whom the pale-faced woman -who is his wife, his mistress--what do I know or care--obtained the -money with which Tom Durham thought to buy my silence and his freedom. -Not yet, my dear friend, not yet! The game between us promises to be -long, and to play it properly with a chance of success will require -all my brains and all my patience. But the cards are already beginning -to get shuffled into their places, and the luck has already declared -on my side." - -A few mornings afterwards Mrs. Calverley, on coming down to breakfast, -held an open paper in her hand; laying it on the table and pointing at -it with her bony finger, when the servants had left the room, she -said, "I have an intimation here that Mr. Calverley will return this -evening. He has not thought fit to write to me, but a telegram has -been received from him at the office; and the head-clerk, who, I am -thankful to say, still preserves some notion of what is due to me, has -forwarded the information." - -"Is not this return somewhat unexpected?" asked Pauline, looking -inquisitively at her hostess. - -"Mr. Calverley's return is never either unexpected or expected by me," -said the lady; "he is immersed in business, which I trust may prove as -profitable as he expects, though in my father's time--" - -"Perhaps," interrupted Martin Gurwood, cutting in to prevent the -repetition of that wail over the decadence of the ancient firm which -he had heard a thousand times, "perhaps Mr. Calverley's return has on -this occasion been hastened by the news of the loss of his agent, -which I read out to you the other day. There is more about it in the -paper this morning." - -"More! What more?" cried Pauline, eagerly. - -"Nothing satisfactory, I am sorry to say. The body has not been found, -nor is there any credible account of how the accident happened; the -farther news is contained in a letter from one of the passengers. It -seems that this unfortunate gentleman, Mr. Durham, had, even during -the short time which he was on board the ship, succeeded in making -himself very popular with the passengers. He had talked to some of -them of the importance of the position which he was going out to fill, -of his devotion to business and to his employer; and it is agreed on -all sides that the well-known firm of which he was the agent will find -it difficult to replace him, so zealous and so interested in their -behalf did he show himself. He was one of the last who retired to -rest; and when in the morning he did not put in an appearance, nothing -was thought of it, as it was imagined--not that he had succumbed to -sea-sickness, as he had described himself as an old sailor, who had -made many voyages--but that he was fatigued by the exertions of the -previous day. Late in the evening, as nothing had been heard of him, -the captain resolved to send the steward to his cabin; and the man -returned with the report that the door was unlocked, the berth -unoccupied, and Mr. Durham not to be found. An inquiry was at once set -on foot, and a search made throughout the ship; but without any -result. The only idea that could be arrived at was, that, finding the -heat oppressive, or being unable to sleep, he made his way to the -deck, and, in the darkness of the night, had missed his footing and -fallen overboard. Against this supposition was the fact that Mr. -Durham was not in the least the worse for liquor when last seen, and -that neither the officers nor the men on duty throughout the night had -heard any splash in the water or any cry for help. The one thing -certain was, that the man was gone; and all that could now be done was -to transship his baggage at Gibraltar, that it might be returned to -England, and to make public the circumstances for the information of -his friends." - -"It seems to me," said Martin Gurwood, as he finished reading, "that -unless the drowning of this poor man had actually been witnessed, -nothing could be much clearer. He is seen to retire to rest in the -night; he is never heard of again; there is no reason why he should -attempt self-destruction; on the contrary, he is represented as -glorying in the position to which he had been appointed, and full of -life, health, and spirits." - -"There is one point," said Mrs. Calverley, "to which I think exception -may be taken, and that is, that he was sober. These sort of persons -have, I am given to understand, a great tendency to drink and vice of -every description, and the fact that he was probably a boon companion -of Mr. Calverley's, and on that account appointed to this agency, -makes me think it more than likely that he had a private store of -liquor, and was drowned when in a state of intoxication." - -"There is nothing in the evidence which has been made public," said -Martin Gurwood, in a hard caustic tone, "to warrant any supposition of -that kind. In any case, it is not for us to judge the dead and--" - -"Perhaps," said Pauline, interposing, to avert the storm which she saw -gathering in Mrs. Calverley's knitted brows, "perhaps when Mr. -Calverley returns to-night, he will be able to give us some -information on the subject. A man so trusted, and appointed to such a -position, must naturally be well known to his employer." - -The lamps were lit in the drawing-room, and the solemn servants -were handing round the tea, when a cab rattled up to the door, -and immediately afterwards John Calverley, enveloped in his -travelling-coat and many wrappers, burst into the apartment. He made -his way to his wife, who was seated at the Berlin-wool frame, on which -the Jael and Sisera had been supplanted by a new and equally -interesting subject, and bending down offered her a salute, which she -received on the tip of her ear; he shook hands heartily with Martin -Garwood, politely with Pauline, and then discarding his outer -garments, planted himself in the middle of the room, smiling -pleasantly, and inquired, "Well, what's the news?" - -"There is no news here," said Mrs. Calverley, looking across the top -of the Berlin-wool frame with stony glance; "those who have been -careering about the country are most likely to gather light and -frivolous gossip. Do you desire any refreshment, Mr. Calverley?" - -"No, thank you, my dear," said John. "I had dinner at six o'clock, at -Peterborough--swallowed it standing--cold meat, roll, glass of ale. -You know the sort of thing, Martin--hurried, but not bad, you -know--not bad." - -"But after such a slight refreshment, Monsieur Calverley," said -Pauline, rising and going towards him, "you would surely like some -tea?" - -"No, thank you, Madame Du Tertre; no tea for me. I will have a -little--a little something hot later on, perhaps--and you too, Martin, -eh?--no, I forgot, you are no good at that sort of thing. And so," he -added, turning to his wife, "you have, you say, no news?" - -"Mrs. Calverley does herself injustice in saying any such thing," said -Pauline, interposing; "the interests of the husband are the interests -of the wife, and, when it is permitted, of the wife's friends; and we -have all been distressed beyond measure to hear of the sad fate which -has befallen your trusted agent." - -"Eh," said John Calverley, looking at her blankly, "my trusted agent? -I don't understand you." - -"These celebrated Swartmoor Ironworks are not beyond the reach of the -post-office, I presume?" said Mrs. Calverley, with a vicious chuckle. - -"Certainly not," said John. - -"And telegrams occasionally find their way there, I suppose?" - -"Undoubtedly." - -"How is it, then, Mr. Calverley, that you have not heard what has been -in all the newspapers, that some man named Durham, calling himself -your agent, has been drowned on his way to India, where he was going -in your employ?" - -"Drowned!" said John Calverley, turning very pale, "Tom Durham -drowned! Is it possible?" - -"Not merely possible, but strictly true," said his wife. "And what I -want to know is, how is it that you, buried down at your Swartmoors, -or whatever you call them, have not heard of it before?" - -"It is precisely because I was buried down there that the news failed -to reach me. When I am at the ironworks I have so short a time at my -disposal that I never look at the newspapers, and the people at -Mincing-lane have strict instructions never to communicate with me by -letter or telegram except in the most pressing cases; and Mr. -Jeffreys, I imagine, with that shrewdness which distinguishes him, saw -that the reception of such news as this would only distress me, while -I could be of no possible assistance, and so wisely kept it back until -my return." - -"I am sure I don't see why you should be so distressed because one of -your clerks got drunk and fell overboard," said Mrs. Calverley. "I -know that in my father's time--" - -"This Mr. Durham must have been an especially gifted man, I suppose, -or you would scarcely have appointed him to such an important berth? -Was it not so?" asked Pauline. - -"Yes," said Mr. Calverley, hesitating. "Tom Durham was a smart fellow -enough." - -"What I told you," said Mrs. Calverley, looking round. "A smart -fellow, indeed! but not company for his employer's wife, whatever he -may have been for--" - -"He was a man whom I knew but little of Jane," said John Calverley, -with a certain amount of sternness in his voice; "but he was -introduced to me by a person of whom I have the highest opinion, and -whom I wished to serve. On this recommendation I took Mr. Durham, and -the little I saw of him was certainly in favour of his zeal and -brightness. Now, if you please, we will change the conversation." - -That night, again, Madame Du Tertre might have been seen pacing her -room. "The more I see of these people," she said to herself, "the more -I learn of the events with which my life is bound up, so much the more -am I convinced that my first theory was the right one. This Monsieur -Calverley, the master of this house--what was his reason for being -annoyed, contrarié, as he evidently was, at being questioned about -Durham? Simply because he himself knew nothing about him, and could -not truthfully reply to the pestering inquiries of that anatomie -vivante, his wife, as to who he was, and why he had not been presented -to her, the reigning queen of the great firm. Was I not right there in -my anticipations? 'He was introduced to me,' he said, 'by a person of -whom I have the highest opinion, and whom I wished to serve;' that -person, without doubt, was Claxton--Claxton, the old man, who, in his -turn, was the slave of the pale-faced woman, whom Tom Durham had -befooled! A bon chat, bon rat! They are well suited, these others, and -Messrs. Calverley and Claxton are the dupes, though perhaps"--and she -stopped pondering, with knitted brow--"Mr. Calverley knows all, or -rather half, and is helping his friend and partner in the matter. I -will take advantage of the first opportunity to press this subject -farther home with Monsieur Calverley, who is a sufficiently simple bon -homme; and perhaps I may learn something that may be useful to me from -him." - -The opportunity which Pauline sought occurred sooner than she -expected. On the very next evening, Martin Gurwood being away from -home, attending some public meeting on a religious question, and Mrs. -Calverley being detained in her room finishing some letters which she -was anxious to dispatch, Pauline found herself in the drawing-room -before dinner, with her host as her sole companion. - -When she entered she saw that Mr. Calverley had the newspaper in his -hand, but his eyes were half closed and his head was nodding -desperately. "You are fatigued, monsieur, by the toils of the day," she -said. "I fear I interrupted you?" - -"No," said John Calverley, jumping up, "not at all, Madame Du Tertre; -I was having just forty Winks, as we say in English; but I am quite -refreshed and all right now, and am very glad to see you." - -"It must be hard work for you, having all the responsibility of that -great establishment in the City on your shoulders." - -"Well, you see, Madame Du Tertre," said John, with a pleasant smile, -"the fact is I am not so young as I used to be, and though I work no -more, indeed considerably less, I find myself more tired at the end of -the day." - -"Ah, monsieur," said Pauline, "that is the great difference between -the French and English commerce, as it appears to me. In France our -négociants have not merely trusted clerks such as you have here, but -they have partners who enjoy their utmost confidence, who are as -themselves, in fact, in all matters of their business." - -"Yes, madame, but that is not confined to France; we have exactly the -same thing in England. My house is Calverley and Co.; Co. stands for -'company,' vous savvy," said John, with a great dash at airing his -French. - -"Ah, you have partners?" asked Pauline. "Well, no, not exactly," said -John evasively, looking over her bead, and rattling the keys in his -trousers-pockets. - -"I think I heard of one Monsieur Claxton." - -"Eh," said John, looking at her disconcertedly, "Claxton, eh? O yes, -of course." - -"And yet it is strange that, intimate, lié, bound up as this Monsieur -Claxton must be with you in your affairs, you have never brought him -to this house--Madame Calverley has never seen him. I should like to -see this Monsieur Claxton, do you know? I should--" - -But John Calverley stepped hurriedly forward and laid his hand upon -her arm. "Stay, for God's sake," he said, with an expression of terror -in every feature; "I hear Mrs. Calverley's step on the stairs. Do not -mention Mr. Claxton's name in this house; I will tell you why some -other time--only--don't mention it!" - -"I understand," said Pauline quietly; and when Mrs. Calverley entered -the room, she found her guest deeply absorbed in the photographic -album. - -That night the party broke up early. Mr. Calverley, though he used -every means in his power to disguise the agitation into which his -conversation with Pauline had thrown him, was absent and embarrassed; -while Pauline herself was so occupied in thought over what had -occurred, and so desirous to be alone, in order that she might have -the opportunity for full reflection, that she did not, as usual, -encourage her hostess in the small and spiteful talk in which that -lady delighted, and none were sorry when the clock, striking ten, gave -them an excuse for an adjournment. - -"Allons donc," said Pauline, when she had once more regained her own -chamber, "I have made a great success to-night, by mere chance-work -too, arising from my keeping my eyes and ears always open. See now! It -is evident, from some cause or other--why, I cannot at present -comprehend--that this man, Monsieur Calverley, is frightened to death -lest his wife should see his partner! What does it matter to me, the -why or the wherefore? The mere fact of its being so is sufficient to -give me power over him. He is no fool; he sees the influence which I -have already acquired over Mrs. Calverley, and he knows that were I -just to drop a hint to that querulous being, that jealous wretch, she -would insist on being made known to Claxton, and having all the -business transactions between them explained to her. Threaten Monsieur -Calverley with that, and I can obtain from him what I will, can be put -on Tom Durham's track, and then left to myself to work out my revenge -in my own way! Ah, Monsieur and Madame Mogg, of Poland-street, how can -I ever be sufficiently grateful for the chance which sent me to lodge -in your mansarde, and first gave me the idea of making the -acquaintance of the head of the great firm of Calverley and Company!" - -The next morning, when, after breakfast, and before starting for the -City, Mr. Calverley went into the dull square apartment behind the -dining-room, dimly lighted by a window, overlooking the leads, which -he called his study, where some score of unreadable books lay half -reclining against each other on shelves, but the most used objects in -which were a hat and clothes-brush, some walking-canes and umbrellas, -he was surprised to find himself closely followed by Madame Du Tertre; -more surprised when that lady closed the door quietly, and turning to -him said, with meaning: - -"Now, monsieur, five words with you." - -"Certainly, madame," said John very much taken aback; "but is not this -rather an odd place--would not Mrs. Calverley think--?" - -"Ah, bah," said Pauline, with a shrug and a gesture very much more -reminiscent of the dame du comptoir than of the dame de compagnie. -"Mrs. Calverley has gone down-stairs to battle with those wretched -servants, and she is, as you know, safe to be there for half an hour. -What I have to say will not take ten minutes--shall I speak?" - -John bowed in silence, looking at the same time anxiously towards the -study-door. - -"You do not know much of me, Monsieur Calverley, but you will before I -have done. I am at present--and am, I fancy, likely to remain--an -inmate of your house; I have established myself in Mrs. Calverley's -good graces, and have, as you must know very well, a certain amount of -influence with her; but it was you to whom I made my original appeal; -it is you whom I wish to retain as my friend." - -John Calverley, with flushing cheeks, and constantly-recurring glance -towards the door, said, "that he was very proud, and that if he only -knew what Madame Du Tertre desired--" - -"You shall know at once, Monsieur Calverley: I want you to accept me -as your friend, and to prove that you do so by giving me your -confidence." - -John Calverley started. - -"Yes, your confidence," continued Pauline. "I have talent and energy, -and, when I am trusted, could prove myself a friend worth having; but -I am too proud to accept half-confidences, and where no trust is -reposed in me I am apt to ally myself with the opposite faction. Why -not trust in me, Monsieur Calverley--why not tell me all?" - -"All--what all, madame?" - -"About your partner, Monsieur Claxton, and the reason why you do not -bring him--" - -"Hush! pray be silent, I implore you!" said John Calverley, stepping -towards her and taking both her hands in his. "I cannot imagine," he -said, after a moment's pause, "what interest my business affairs can -have for you; but since you seem to wish it, you shall know them all; -only not here and not now." - -"Yes," said Pauline, with provoking calmness, '"in the City, perhaps?" - -"Yes; at my office in Mincing-lane." - -"And when?" - -"To-morrow week, at four o'clock; come down there then, and I will -tell you all you wish to know." - -"Right," said Pauline, slipping out of the room in an instant. And -before John Calverley let himself out at the street-door, he heard the -drawing-room piano ringing out the grand march from the _Prophète_ -under her skilful hands. - - -Three days afterwards a man came up from the office with a letter for -Mrs. Calverley. It was from her husband, stating he had a telegram -calling him down to Swartmoor at once, and requesting that his -portmanteau might be packed and given to the messenger. This worthy -was seen and interrogated by the mistress of the house. "He knew -nothing about the telegram," he said, "but when his master gave him -the letter he looked bothered and dazed-like." - -Mrs. Calverley shook her head, and opined that her prophecies anent -the downfall of the Swartmoor Ironworks were about to be realised. But -Pauline did not seem to be much put out at the news. "It is important, -doubtless," she said to herself, "and he must go; but he will return -in time to keep his appointment with me." - -The day arrived and the hour, and Pauline was punctual to her -appointment, but Mr. Calverley had not arrived, though one of the -clerks said he had left word that it was probable he might return on -that day. That was enough for Pauline; she would await his arrival. - -An hour passed. - -Then there was a great tearing up and down stairs, and hurrying to and -fro, and presently, when a white-faced clerk came in to get his hat, -he stared to see her there. He had forgotten her, though it was he who -had ushered her into the waiting-room. - -"There was no use in her remaining there any longer," he said; "the -head-clerk, Mr. Jeffreys, had been sent for to Great Walpole-street; -and though nobody knew anything positive, everybody felt that -something dreadful had occurred." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. -"WHEN DOCTORS DISAGREE." - - -When Alice first heard the news of Tom Durham's death, she was deeply -and seriously grieved. Not that she had seen much of her half-brother -at any period of her life, not that there was any special bond of -sympathy between them, nor that the shifty, thriftless ne'er-do-well -possessed any qualities likely to find much favour with a person of -Alice's uprightness and rectitude of conduct. But the girl could not -forget the old days when Tom, as a big strong lad, just returned from -his first rough introduction to the world, would take her, a little -delicate mite, and carry her aloft on his shoulders round the garden, -and even deprive himself of the huge pipe and the strong tobacco which -he took such pride in smoking, because the smell was offensive to her. -She could not forget that whenever he returned from his wanderings, -short as his stay in England might be, he made a point of coming to -see her, always bringing some little present, some quaint bit of -foreign art-manufacture, which he knew Would please her fancy; and -though his purse was generally meagrely stocked, always asking her -whether she was in want of money, and offering to share its contents -with her. More vividly than all she recalled to mind his softness of -manner and gentleness of tone, on the occasion of their last parting; -she recollected how he had clasped her to his breast at the station, -and how she had seen the tears falling down his cheeks as the train -moved away; she remembered his very words: "I am not going to be -sentimental, it isn't in my line; but I think I like you better than -anybody else in the world, though I didn't take to you much at first." -And again: "So I love you, and I leave you with regret." Poor Tom, -poor dear Torn! such was the theme of Alice's daily reflection, -invariably ending in her breaking down and comforting herself with a -good cry. - -But, in addition to the loss of her brother, Alice Claxton had great -cause for anxiety and mental disturbance. John had returned from his -last business tour weary, dispirited, and obviously very much out of -health. The brightness had faded from his blue eyes, the lines round -them and his mouth seemed to have doubled both in number and depth, -his stoop was considerably increased, and instead of his frank hearty -bearing, he crept about, when he thought he was unobserved, with -dawdling footsteps, and with an air of lassitude pervading his every -movement. He strove his best to disguise his condition from Alice; he -struggled hard to talk to her in his old cheerful way, to take -interest in the details of her management of the house and garden, to -hear little Bell her lessons, and to play about with the child on days -when the weather rendered it possible for him to go into the -shrubbery. But even during the time when Alice was talking or reading -to him, or when he was romping with the child, he would suddenly -subside into a kind of half-dazed state, his eyes staring blankly -before him, his hands dropped listlessly by his side; he would not -reply until he had been spoken to twice or thrice, and would then look -up as though he had either not heard or not understood the question -addressed to him. If it was painful to Alice to see her husband in -that state, it was far more distressing to observe his struggles to -recover his consciousness, and his attempts at being more like his old -self. In his endeavours to talk and laugh, to rally his young wife -after his usual fashion, and to comprehend and be interested in the -playful babble of the child, there was a ghastly galvanised vivacity -most painful to behold. - -Watching her husband day by day with the greatest interest and care, -studying him so closely that she was enabled to anticipate his various -changes of manner, and almost to foretell the next expression of his -face, Alice Claxton became convinced that there was something -seriously the matter with him, and it was her duty, whether he wished -it or not, to call in medical advice. Mr. Broadbent, the village -apothecary, had had a great deal of experience, and was invariably -spoken of as a clever, kind-hearted man. When the Claxtons first -established themselves at Rose Cottage, the old-fashioned residents in -the neighbourhood duly called and left their cards; but after John had -consulted with Alice, telling her that he left her to do entirely as -she thought fit in the matter, but that for his own part he had no -desire to commence a new series of acquaintance, it was agreed between -them that it would be sufficient to deliver cards in return, and all -farther attempts at social intercourse were politely put aside and -ignored. In such a village as Hendon was a few years ago, it was, -however, impossible without actual rudeness to avoid the acquaintance -of the vicar and the doctor, and consequently the Reverend Mr. -Tomlinson and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Broadbent, were on visiting -terms at Rose Cottage. - -Visiting terms, so far as the Tomlinsons were concerned, meant an -interchange of dinners twice in the year; but Mr. Broadbent was seen, -by Mrs. Claxton at least, far more frequently. The story of little -Bell's adoption had got wind throughout the neighbourhood, and the -spinsters and the gushing young ladies, who thought it "so romantic," -unable to effect an entrance for themselves into the enchanted bower, -anxiously sought information from Mr. Broadbent, who was, as they -knew, a privileged person. The apothecary was by no means backward in -purveying gossip for the edification of his fair hearers, and his -eulogies of Mrs. Claxton's good looks, and his detailed descriptions -of little Bell's infantile maladies, were received with much delight -at nearly all the tea-tables in the neighbourhood. Whether John -Claxton had heard of this, whether he had taken any personal dislike -to Mr. Broadbent, or whether it was merely owing to his natural -shyness and reserve, that he absented himself from the room on nearly -every occasion of the doctor's visits, Alice could not tell; but such -was the case. When they did meet, they talked politely, and seemed on -the best of terms; but John seemed to take care that their meetings -should be as few as possible. - -What was to be done? John had now been home three days, and was -visibly worse than on his arrival. Alice had spoken to him once or -twice, seriously imploring him to tell her what was the matter with -him, but had been received the first time with a half-laugh, the -second time with a grave frown. He was quite well, he said, quite -well, so far as his bodily health was concerned; a little worried, -he allowed; business worries, which a woman could not understand, -matters connected with the firm which gave him a certain amount of -anxiety--nothing more. Alice thought that this was not the whole -truth, and that John, in his love for her, and desire to spare her any -grief, had made light of what was really serious suffering. The more -she thought over it, the more anxious and alarmed she became, and at -length, when on the fourth morning after John's return, she had peeped -into the little library and seen her husband sitting there at the -window, not heeding the glorious prospect before him, not heeding the -book which lay upon his lap, but lying backwards in his chair, with -his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes closed, his complexion a -dull sodden red, she determined on at once sending for Mr. Broadbent, -without saying a word to John about it. An excuse could easily be -found; little Bell had a cold and was slightly feverish, and the -doctor had been sent for to prescribe for her; and though he could see -Mr. Claxton and have a talk with him, Alice would take care that John -should not suspect that he was the object of Mr. Broadbent's visit. - -Mr. Broadbent came, pleasant and chatty at first, imagining he had -been sent for to see the little girl in one of the ordinary illnesses -of childhood; graver and much less voluble as, on their way up to the -nursery, Mrs. Claxton confided to him her real object in requesting -his presence. Little Bell duly visited, the conspiring pair came down -stairs again, and Alice going first, opened the door and discovered -Mr. Claxton in the attitude in which she had last seen him, fast -asleep and breathing heavily. He roused himself at the noise on their -entrance, rubbed his eyes, and rose wearily to his feet, covered with -confusion as soon as he made out that Alice had a companion. - -"Well, John," cried Alice, with a well-feigned liveliness, "you were -asleep, I declare! See, here is Mr. Broadbent come to shake hands with -you. He was good enough to come round and look at little Bell, who has -a bad cold, poor child, and a little flushing in the skin, which -frightened me; but Mr. Broadbent says it's nothing." - -"Nothing at all, Mr. Claxton, take my word for it," said the doctor, -who had by this time advanced into the room, and by a little skilful -manoeuvring had got his back to the window, while he had turned John -Claxton, whose hand he held, with his face to the light; "nothing at -all, the merest nothing; but ladies, as you know, are even frightened -at that, particularly where little ones are concerned. Well, Mr. -Claxton," continued the doctor, who was a big jolly man, with a red -face, a pair of black bushy whiskers, and a deep voice, "and how do -you find yourself, sir?" - -"I am quite well, thank you, doctor," said John Claxton, plucking up -and striving to do his best; "I may say quite well." - -"Lucky man not to find all your travelling knock you about," said -the doctor. "I have known several men--commercials--who say they -cannot stand the railway half so well as they used to do the old -coaches--shakes them, jars them altogether. By the way, there is -renewed talk about our having a railway here. Have you heard anything -about it?" - -"Not I," said John Claxton, "and I fervently hope it will not come in -my time. I am content with old Davis's coach." - -"Ah," said the doctor with a laugh, "you must find old Davis's coach -rather a contrast to some of the railways you are in the habit of -scouring the country in, both in regard to speed and comfort. However, -I must be off; glad to see you looking so well. Good-morning. Now, -Mrs. Claxton," added the doctor, as he shook hands with John, "if you -will just come with me, I should like to look at that last -prescription I wrote for the little lady upstairs." - -No sooner were they in the dining-room, with the door closed behind -them, than Alice laid her hand upon the doctor's arm, and looked up -into his face pale and eager with anxiety. - -"Well," she said, "how does he look? what do you think? Tell me at -once." - -"It is impossible, my dear Mrs. Claxton," said the good-natured -apothecary, looking at her kindly, and speaking in a softened voice; -"it is impossible for me to judge of Mr. Claxton's state from a mere -cursory glance and casual talk; but I am bound to say that, from what -I could observe, I fancy he must be considerably out of health." - -"So I thought," said Alice; "so I feared." And her tears fell fast. - -"You must not give way, my dear madam," said Mr. Broadbent. "What I -say may be entirely unfounded. I am, recollect, only giving you my -impression after a conversation with your husband, in which, at your -express wish, I refrained from asking him anything about himself." - -"If I could manage to persuade him to see you, would you come in this -afternoon or tomorrow morning, Mr. Broadbent?" - -"I would, of course, do anything you wished; but as Mr. Claxton has -never hitherto done me the honour to consult me professionally, and as -it seems to me to be a case the diagnosis of which should be very -carefully gone into, I would recommend that he should consult some -physician of eminence. Possibly he knows such a one." - -"No," said Alice, "I have never heard him mention any physician since -our marriage." - -"If that be the case, I would strongly advise you to call in Doctor -Houghton. He is a man of the greatest eminence; and, as it happens, I -see him every day just now, as we have a regular consultation at the -Rookery--you know, the large place on the other side of the village, -where poor Mr. Piggott is lying dangerously ill. If you like, I will -mention the case to Doctor Haughton when I see him to-morrow." - -"Thank you, Mr. Broadbent; I am deeply obliged to you, but I must -speak to John first. I should not like to do anything without his -knowledge. I will speak to him this afternoon, and send a note round -to you in the evening." And Mr. Broadbent, much graver and much less -boisterous than usual, took his departure. - -John Claxton remained pretty much in the same dozing kind of state -during the day. He came in to luncheon, and made an effort to talk -cheerfully upon the contents of the newspaper and suchlike topics, and -afterwards he had a romp in the hall with little Bell, the weather -being too raw for the child to go out of doors. But two or three turns -at the battledore and shuttlecock, two or three spinnings of the big -humming-top, two or three hidings behind the greatcoats, seemed to be -enough for him, and he rang for the nurse to take the child to her -room just as the little one was beginning to enter into the sport of -the various games. Alice had been in and out through the hall during -the pastime, and saw the child go quietly off, bearing her -disappointment bravely, and saw her husband turn listlessly into the -library, his hands buried in the pockets of his shooting-jacket and -his head sunk upon his breast. Poor little Alice! Her life for the -last few years had been so bright and so full of sunshine; her whole -being was so bound up with that of her kind thoughtful husband, who -had taken her from almost penial drudgery and made her the star and -idol of his existence, that when she saw him fighting bravely against -the illness which was bearing him down, and ever striving to hide it -from her, she could not make head against the trouble, but retired -into a corner of her pretty little drawing-room and wept bitterly. - -Then when the fit of weeping was over, she roused herself; her brain -cleared and her determination renewed. "It is impossible that this can -go on," she said to herself; "I have a part and share in John's life -now; it belongs to me almost as much as to him, and it is my duty to -see that it is not endangered. He will be angry, I know, but I must -bear his anger. After what Mr. Broadbent said this morning, it is -impossible that I can allow matters to remain in their present state -without acting upon the advice which he gave me; and be the result -what it may, I will do so." - -The autumn twilight had fallen upon the garden, wrapping it in its dim -grey folds, the heavy mists were beginning to rise from the damp -earth, and the whole aspect outside was dreary and chilly. But when -Alice entered the little library she found John Claxton standing at -the window, with his head lying against the pane, and apparently rapt -in the contemplation of the cheerless landscape. - -"John," she said, creeping close to him, and laying her hand upon his -shoulder, "John." - -"Yes, dear," he replied, passing his arm round her and drawing her -closely to him. "You wondered what had become of me; you came to -reproach me for leaving you so long to yourself?" - -"No, John, not that," said Alice; "there is noting in the wide world -for which I have to reproach you; there has been nothing since you -first made me mistress of your house." - -"And of my heart, Alice; don't forget that," said her husband, -tenderly; "of my heart." - -"And of your heart," she repeated. "But when you gave me that position -you expected me to take with it its responsibilities as well as its -happiness, did you not? You did not bring me here to be merely a toy -or a plaything--no,--I don't mean that exactly; I mean not merely to -be something for your petting and your amusement--you meant me to be -your wife, John; to share with you your troubles and anxieties, and to -have a voice of my own, a very little one, in the regulation of all -things in which you were concerned?" - -"Certainly, Alice," said her husband; "have I not shown this?" - -"Always before, John, always up to within the last few days. And if -you are not doing so now, it is, I know, from no lack of love, but -rather out of care and thoughtfulness for me." - -"Why, Alice," said John, with a struggle to revive his old playful -manner, "what is the matter with you? How grave the little woman is -to-night." - -"Yes, John; I am grave, because I know you are ill, and that you are -striving to hide it from me lest I should be alarmed. That is not the -way it should be, John; you know we swore to be loyal to each other in -sickness as well as in health, and it would be my pride as well as my -duty to take up my place by you in sickness and be your nurse." - -"I want no nurse, little woman," he said, bending tenderly over her. -"As I told you this morning, I am quite well only a little--" And then -his brain reeled, and his legs tottered beneath him, and had he not -caught hold of the chair standing at his elbow, he would have fallen -to the ground. - -"You are ill, John; there is the proof," Alice cried, after he had -seated himself and thrown himself heavily back in the chair. She knelt -by his side, bathing his forehead with eau-de-cologne. "You are ill, -and must be attended to at once. Now listen; do you understand me?" - -A feeble pressure of her hand intimated assent. - -"Well, then, Mr. Broadbent mentioned quite by accident this morning -that a celebrated London physician, a Doctor Haughton I think he -called him, was in the habit of coming up here every day just now to -visit Mr. Piggott it the Rookery; and it struck me at the time that it -would be a very good plan if we could send round to the Rookery and -ask this Doctor Haughton to call in as he was passing and see you." - -"No!" cried John Claxton in a loud voice, as he started up in his -chair; "no, I forbid you distinctly to do anything of the kind. I will -have no strange doctor admitted into this house. Understand, Alice, -these are my orders, and I insist on their being obeyed." - -"That is quite enough, John," said Alice; "you know that your will is -my law; still I hope to make you think better of it for your own sake -and for mine." - -They said no more about it just then. Alice remained kneeling by her -husband, holding his hand in hers, and softly smoothing his hair, and -bathing his forehead, until the dinner was announced. The threat of -calling in Doctor Haughton seemed to have had an inspiriting effect on -the invalid. He ate and drank more than he had done on the three -previous days, and talked more freely and with greater gaiety. So -comparatively lively was he, that Alice began to hope that he had been -merely suffering, as he had said, under an accumulation of business -worries, and that with a little rest and quiet he would recover his -ordinary health and spirits. - -Quite late in the evening, as they were sitting together in the -library, John began talking to his wife about Tom Durham. He had -scarcely touched upon the subject since the news of the unfortunate -man's death had arrived in England, and even now he introduced it -cautiously and with becoming reverence. - -"Of course it was a sad blow," he said, "and just now it seems very -hard for you to bear; but don't think I have failed to notice, Alice, -how, in your love and care for me, you have set aside your own grief -lest the sight of your sorrow should distress me." - -"I don't know that I deserve any gratitude for that, John; my care for -you is so very much greater than any other feeling which can possibly -enter into my mind, that it stands apart and alone, and I cannot -measure others by it. And yet I was very fond of poor Tom," she said, -pensively. - -"It will be a comfort for us to think, not now so much as hereafter, -that we did our best to start him in an honest career, and to give him -the chance of achieving a good position," said John Claxton. "He had -seen a great many of the ups and downs of life, had poor Tom Durham." - -"He was a strange mixture of good and evil," said Alice; "but to me he -was always uniformly kind and affectionate. He had a strange regard -for me, as being, I suppose, something totally different from what he -was usually brought in contact with; he took care that I should see -nothing but the best and brightest side of him, though of course I -knew from others that he was full of faults." - -"And you loved him all the same?" - -"And yet, as you say, I loved him all the same." - -"And nothing you could hear now would alter your opinion of him?" - -"No, John, I think--I am sure not. I am a strange being, and this is -one of my characteristics, that no fault known at the time or -discovered afterwards, could in the slightest degree influence my -feelings towards one whom I had really loved." - -"You are sure of that, Alice?" said John Claxton, bending down and -looking earnestly at her. - -"Quite sure," she replied. - -"That is one of the sweetest traits in your sweet self," said her -husband, kissing her fervently. - -The next morning Mr. Claxton's improvement seemed to continue. He was -up tolerably early, ate a good breakfast, and talked with all his -accustomed spirit. Alice began to think that she had been precipitate -in her idea of calling in medical advice, particularly in sending for -a stranger like Doctor Haughton, and was glad that John had overruled -her in the matter. Later in the morning, the air being tolerably mild, -and the sun shining, he went with little Bell into the garden, first -walking quietly round the paths, and afterwards, in compliance with -the child's request, giving himself up for a romping game at play. It -was while engaged in this game that John Claxton felt as though he had -suddenly lost his intellect, that everything was whirling round him in -wild chaotic disorder, then that he was stricken blind and deaf, then -that with one great blow depriving him almost of life, he was smitten -to the earth. On the earth he lay; while the child, conceiving this to -be a part of the game, ran off with shrieks of delight to some new -hiding-place. On the earth he lay, how long he knew not, having only -the consciousness, when he came to himself; of being dazed and -stunned, and sore all over, as though he had been severely beaten. - -John Claxton knew what this meant. He felt it would be almost -impossible any longer to hide the state in which he was from the eager -anxious eyes of his wife. He would make one more attempt, however; so, -bracing himself together, he managed to proceed with tolerable -steadiness towards the house. Alice came out to meet him, beaming with -happiness. - -"What has become of you, you silly John?" she cried. "I have been -looking for you everywhere. Bell told me she left you hiding somewhere -in the garden, and I have just sent up for my cloak, determined to -search for you myself." - -"Bell was quite right, dear," said John, slowly and with great effort. -"I was hiding, as she said; but as she did not come to find me, I -thought I had better make the best of my way without her." - -"Not before you were required, sir. I was waiting for you to give me -my monthly cheque. Don't you know that to-day is the twenty-fourth, -when I always pay my old pensioners and garden people?" - -"Is to-day the twenty-fourth?" asked John Claxton, his face flushing -very red, as he fumbled in his pocket for his note-book. - -"Certainly, John. Thursday the twenty-fourth, and--" - -"I must go," said John Claxton hoarsely, after he had found his -note-book and looked into it; "I must go to London at once." - -"To London, John?" - -"Yes, at once; particular appointment with Mr. Calverley for to-day. I -cannot think how I have forgotten it; but I must go." - -"You are not well enough to go, John; you must not." - -"I tell you I must and will!" said John Claxton fiercely. "I shall -come back to-night; or, if I have to go off out of town, I will tell -you where to send my portmanteau. Don't be angry, dear. I didn't mean -to be cross--I didn't indeed; but business--most important business." - -He spoke thickly and hurriedly, his veins were swollen, and his eyes -seemed starting out of his head. - -"Won't you wait for Davis's coach, John?" said Alice softly. "It will -start in half an hour." - -"No, no; let it pick me up on the road. Tell Davis to look out for me; -a little walk will do me good. Give me my hat and coat; and now, God -bless you, my darling. You are not angry with me? Let me hear that -before I start." - -"I never was angry with you, John. I never could be angry with you so -long as I live." - -He wound his arms around her and held her to his heart; then with -rapid shambling steps he started off down the high-road. He walked on -and on; he must have gone, he thought, at least two miles; would the -coach never come? The excitement which sustained him at first now -began to fail him; he felt his legs tottering under him; then suddenly -the blindness and the deafness came on him again, the singing in his -ears, the surging in his brain; and he fell by the roadside, helpless -and senseless. - - -The delightfully-interesting case of Mr. Piggott of the Rookery had -brought together Doctor Haughton and Mr. Broadbent, after a separation -of many years, and led them to renew the old friendship, which had -been interrupted since their student days at St. George's. Nature was -not doing much for Mr. Piggott, and the case was likely to be -pleasantly protracted; so that on this very day Doctor Haughton had -asked Mr. Broadbent to come and dine and sleep at his house in -Saville-row, where he would meet with some old friends and several -distinguished members of the profession; and the pair were rolling -easily into town in Doctor Haughton's carriage, with the black bag, -containing Mr. Broadbent's evening dress, carefully placed under the -coachman's legs. - -"What is this? A knot of people gathered by the roadside, all craning -forward eagerly, and looking at something on the ground. The -coachman's practised eye detects an accident instantly, and he whips -up his horses and stops them just abreast of the crowd. - -"What is it?" cried the coachman. - -"Man in a fit," cried one of the crowd. - -"That be blowed," said another; "he won't have any more of such fits -as them, I reckon. The man's dead; that's what he is." - -Hearing these words Mr. Broadbent opened the door and pushed his way -among the crowd. Instantly he returned, his face full of horror. - -"Good God!" he said to his companion, "who do you think it is? The -man--the very man about whom I was speaking to you just now--Claxton." - -Doctor Haughton descended from the carriage in a more leisurely and -professional manner, stepped among the people, who made way for him -right and left, knelt by the prostrate body; lifted its arms and -applied his fingers to its wrists. Then he shook his head. - -"The man is dead," he said; "there can be no doubt about that." And he -bent forward to look at the features. Instantly recognising him, he -sprang back. "Who did you say this man was?" he said, turning to Mr. -Broadbent. - -"Claxton--Mr. Claxton, of Rose Cottage." - -"Nothing of the sort," said the doctor. "I knew him well; it is Mr. -Calverley, of Great Walpole-street." - -"My good sir," said Mr. Broadbent, "I knew the man well. I saw him -only yesterday." - -"And I knew Mr. Calverley well. He was one of Chipchase's patients, -and I attended him when Chipchase was out of town. We can soon settle -this--Here, you lad, just stand at those horses' heads--Gibson," to -his coachman, "get down, and come here. Did you ever see that gentleman -before?" pointing to the body. - -The man bent forward and took a long and solemn stare. - -"Certainly, sir," he replied at length, touching his hat; "Mr. -Calverley, sir, of Great Walpole-street. Seen him a score of times." - -"What do you think of that?" said Doctor Haughton, turning to his -companion. - -"Think!" said Mr. Broadbent, "I will tell you what I think--that Mr. -Claxton of Rose Cottage and Mr. Calverley of Great Walpole-street were -one and the same man!" - - - - -END OF VOL. I. - - - - -LONDON: -ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW FLAG, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) *** - -***** This file should be named 61093-8.txt or 61093-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/0/9/61093/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web 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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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/61093-8.zip b/old/61093-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4379117..0000000 --- a/old/61093-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61093-h.zip b/old/61093-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0af3fd8..0000000 --- a/old/61093-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/61093-h/61093-h.htm b/old/61093-h/61093-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7493080..0000000 --- a/old/61093-h/61093-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5753 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>The Yellow Flag (Vol. 1 of 3)</title> -<meta name="subtitle" content="A Novel."> -<meta name="Author" content="Edmund Yates"> -<meta name="Publisher" content="Tinsley Brothers"> -<meta name="Date" content="1872"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> - -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} -p.center {text-align: center;} -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} -</style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3) - A Novel - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: January 3, 2020 [EBook #61093] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW FLAG, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br> -http://www.archive.org/details/yellowflagnovel01yate<br> -(University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE YELLOW FLAG.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE YELLOW FLAG.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<h5>A Novel.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<h4>By EDMUND YATES.</h4> -<h5>AUTHOR OF "A WAITING RACE." "BROKEN TO HARNESS," ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="continue">"That single effort by which we stop short in the downhill -path to perdition is itself a greater exertion of virtue than an hundred acts of -justice." OLIVER GOLDSMITH.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>IN THREE VOLUMES.<br> -VOL. I.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LONDON:<br> -TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST. STRAND.<br> -1872.</h4> -<br> -<h5>[<i>The right of translation and reproduction is reserved</i>.]</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>LONDON<br> -ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CORDIALLY INSCRIBED<br> -TO<br> -MY OLD FRIEND AND FELLOW-WORKER,<br> -GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup> -<col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:right"> -<col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"> -</colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h4>CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.</h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAP.</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>Calverley's Agent.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II</a></td> -<td>Exit Tom Durham.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III</a></td> -<td>Home, Sweet Home</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV</a></td> -<td>Pauline.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V</a></td> -<td>A little Paradise.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI</a></td> -<td>A safe Investment.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII</a></td> -<td>In the City.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII</a></td> -<td>The Vicar of Lullington.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX</a></td> -<td>Tom Durham's Friend.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X</a></td> -<td>Mr. Tatlow on the Track.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI</a></td> -<td>L'Amie de la Maison.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII</a></td> -<td>When Doctors Disagree.</td> -</tr></table> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE YELLOW FLAG.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> -<h5>CALVERLEY'S AGENT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"So you have conquered your dislike to leaving England, Tom; I am very -glad. I felt certain you would give-in to our wishes, and see the -wisdom of what we suggested to you."</p> - -<p>"Well, I am not so certain about that, Ally; I don't go-in for -magnanimity; and I believe there is just that touch of obstinacy in my -nature, which would induce me to run counter to any proposition which -was very hardly pressed. But when the suggestion was backed as it has -been in this instance, I could not possibly doubt the sincerity of -those who made it. And so, as you see, I am off."</p> - -<p>The place where the conversation, of which a fragment has just been -given, occurred, was a broad gravelled path, the favourite promenade -of such of the worthy townspeople of Southampton as prefer the -beauties of nature to the attractions of the shops in the High-street. -On one side was the broad water glistening in the bright, cheerful -October sun, on the other a large strip of greensward fringed on the -farther edge by a row of shining, white-faced lodging-houses and -hotels. On the promenade, the grim cannons--trophies taken during the -Russian war--were surrounded by happy children, fearlessly climbing -upon the now innocuous engines of death, within hailing distance of -the shore a few boatmen were lazily pulling about, some young men were -intent on watching the progress of two dogs who were making a -neck-and-neck race for a stick which had been thrown into the water -for them to fetch, and the whole scene was one of pleasant -cheerfulness.</p> - -<p>Not out of harmony with it were the two persons whose words have been -recorded. The first speaker was a young woman about two-and-twenty, of -middle height, with a slight and graceful figure, and with a face -which, while some would have called it pretty, would have been -pronounced agreeable by all. The features were not regular, the nose -was decidedly not classical, the mouth was a little too large, and the -lips were a little too full; but there was a wonderful charm in the -whiteness and regularity of the teeth, in the bright flash of the -hazel eyes, in the crisp ripples of the dark brown hair, and in the -clear, healthy red and white of her complexion. She was very -becomingly dressed in a black silk gown, a dark-gray jacket trimmed -with velvet of the same colour, and a coquettish little black straw -hat, and she wore perfectly-fitting gloves and boots. Her companion -was some twelve years older, a short, squarely-built man, whose -breadth of shoulders and length of arms showed much muscular power. -The lower part of his face was covered with a thick copper-red beard; -the heavy moustaches falling over his mouth so completely as to defy -any revelation which might be made by the movements of that tell-tale -organ; but his eyes, small and set close together, had a shifty -expression, and round them there was that strained, seared look, which -in some men is always indicative of dissipation and late hours. He -wore a travelling suit of gray tweed, and a wide-awake hat, and from -under his beard the ends of a loosely-tied red silk neckerchief -fluttered in the wind. Lounging along with a rolling gait, his hands -buried in his jacket-pockets, he seemed to take but little heed of his -companion or her conversation, but paid particular attention to -various nursemaids in charge of the children who were playing about, -honouring each of them in turn with a long, peculiar, and offensive -stare.</p> - -<p>He had half turned round to look after a particularly attractive -damsel, when his companion, wishing to resume the conversation, -touched him on the arm, and said, "You will get to Ceylon in--"</p> - -<p>"O yes, in so many weeks--what matters one or two more or less? It -will be jolly enough on board ship, and when I arrive--I arrive."</p> - -<p>"I hope you have made up your mind to be steady, Tom, and to work -hard. You have now the means for a capital start in life, and for my -sake, if for nothing else, you ought to show yourself worthy of what -has been done for you."</p> - -<p>"Look here, Ally, don't preach," he said, turning sharply round to -her; "everybody thinks they can have a fling at me, and it is, 'O Tom -Durham this, and O Tom Durham that,' until I am sick enough of it -without being sermonised by my half-sister. Of curse it was very kind -of old Claxton--I beg your pardon," he said with a sneer, as he saw a -shade pass over her face; "I ought to speak with more deference of -your husband and my benefactor--of course it was very kind of Mr. -Claxton to pay my passage out to Ceylon, and give me two thousand -pounds to set myself up in business on my arrival there; but he is a -very long-headed fellow, and he knows I am no fool, and if the agency -turns out rightly, he will get a very considerable profit on his -outlay."</p> - -<p>"I am sure John has no such notion in doing this, Tom, and you have no -right to impute such a motive to him."</p> - -<p>"I impute nothing; I merely suggested; and, after all, perhaps he -only did it out of love for you, Ally, whom he worships as the apple -of his eye, in order to give your reckless half-brother a chance of -reform--and to get him out of his way," he muttered under his breath.</p> - -<p>"I am sure John is kindness itself," said Alice Claxton. "If there -were nothing to prove that, it could be found in the fact of his -wishing me to come down here to see the last of you."</p> - -<p>"Nothing like giving the old--I mean your husband, every possible -credit, Ally. You know just now he is away on one of his regular tours -and that therefore he won't miss you from Hendon."</p> - -<p>"I know," said the girl, half-pettishly, "these horrible -business-tours are the bane of my life, the only thing I have to -complain about. However, John says he hopes, it will not be very long -before they are over, and then he will be always at home."</p> - -<p>"Does he?" said Tom Durham, looking at her keenly; "I would not have -you depend upon that, Ally; I would not have you ask him to give up -the business which takes him away. It is important for him that he -should attend to it for the present, and indeed until there is no -longer a necessity for him to do so."</p> - -<p>"You need not speak so earnestly, Tom," said Alice, with a half-laugh; -"I assure you I do not worry John about it; it is he who speaks about -it much oftener than I do. He is constantly talking of the time when -he shall be able to retire altogether, and take me away for a long -foreign travel, perhaps to settle entirely abroad, he said, in -Florence or Vienna, or some charming place of that kind."</p> - -<p>"Old idiot!" muttered Tom Durham; "why can't he leave well alone?"</p> - -<p>"I told him," said Alice, not hearing or heeding the interruption, -"that I am perfectly content with Rose Cottage. All I wish is, that he -could be more there to enjoy it with me."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Tom Durham, with a yawn. "Well, that will come all right, -as I told you; only don't you worry him about it, but leave it alone, -and let it come right in its own way. Now look here, Ally. You had -better go back to London by the 11.15 train, so that we have only half -an hour more together."</p> - -<p>"But you know, Tom, John told me I might wait and see the Massilia -start. Indeed, he particularly wished me to do so."</p> - -<p>"My dear child, the Massilia does not sail until half-past two; and if -you waited to see me fairly off, you would not have time to get over -to the railway to catch the three o'clock train. Even if you did, you -would not get to town until nearly six, and you would have a long -dreary drive in the dark to Hendon. Now, if you go by the quarter-past -eleven train, I shall see you off, and shall then be able to come back -to Radley's, and write a few letters of importance before I go on -board."</p> - -<p>"Very well, Tom," said Alice; "perhaps it will be better; only, -John--"</p> - -<p>"Never mind John on this occasion, Ally; he did not know at what time -the Massilia sailed. Now, Ally, let us take one final turn, and finish -our chat. I am not going to be sentimental--it is not in my line--but -I think I like you better than anybody else in the world, though I did -not take to you much at first. When I came back from sea, a boy of -fifteen, and went home and found my father had married again, I was -savage; and when he showed me a little baby lying in the cradle, and -told me it was my half-sister, I hated you. But you were a sweet -little child, and fended off many a rough word, and many a blow for -the matter of that, which the governor would have liked to have given -me, and I took to you; and when you grew up, you did me a good turn -now and then, and of course it is owing to you, one way or the other, -that I have got John Claxton's two thousand pounds in my pocket at -this moment. So I love you, and I leave you with regret, and I say -this to you at parting. Take this envelope, and lock it away somewhere -where it will be safe, and where you can lay your hand upon it at any -moment. It contains the address of an old pal of mine--a friend I -mean--one of the right sort, a staunch, tried, true, honest, upright -fellow. Hardworking and persevering too; such a kind of man, that you -may be astonished at his ever having been intimate with me. But he -was, and is, and I know that I may reckon upon him to the utmost. If -ever you come to grief, if ever you are in trouble, no matter of what -kind, go to the address which you will find there, and seek him out, -and tell him all about it; I will warrant he will see you through it."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, dear Tom; it is very kind and thoughtful of you to say -this, but you know I have John and--"</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course, you have John now; but there may be a time -when--however, that is neither here nor there. There is the envelope, -take it, and don't forget what I say. Now come round to the hotel and -pack your bag; it is time for you to start."</p> -<br> - -<p>The bell rang, and with a scream the engine attached to the -eleven-fifteen train for London forged slowly out of the Southampton -station. Tom Durham, with an unusual expression of emotion on his -face, stood upon the platform kissing his hand to Alice, who, with the -tears in her eyes, leant back in the carriage and covered her face -with her handkerchief. In a second-class compartment next to that -which she occupied were two middle-aged, plainly-dressed men, who had -been observing the parting of the half-brother and sister with some -interest.</p> - -<p>"Was not that Tom Durham?" said one, as the train sped on its way.</p> - -<p>"Right you are," said the other; "I knew his face, but could not put a -name to it. What is he at now--working on the square or on the cross?"</p> - -<p>"On the square, I believe," said the first; "leastways I saw him -walking with Mr. Calverley in the City the other day, and he would not -have been in such respectable company if he had not been all right."</p> - -<p>"I suppose not," said the other man, "for the time being; but Tom -Durham is a shaky kind of customer anyways."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> -<h5>EXIT TOM DURHAM.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Durham remained watching the departing train until it had passed -out of sight, when he turned round and walked quietly out of the -station. The emotion he had shown--and which, to his great -astonishment, he had really felt--had vanished, and left him in a -deeply contemplative state. He pushed his arms half way up to his -elbows in his pockets, and muttered to himself as he strode along the -street; but it was not until he found himself in the sitting-room at -Radley's Hotel, and had made himself a stiff glass of brandy-and-water -from the bottle, duly included in the bill which Alice had paid, that -he gave his feelings much vent. Then loading a short black pipe from a -capacious tobacco-pouch, he seated himself at the table, and as he -went through his various papers and memoranda thought aloud.</p> - -<p>"This is a rum start, and no mistake! Twenty years ago, when I left -this very same place a 'prentice on board the old Gloucestershire, I -never thought I should have the luck to stay in this swell hotel, and, -better still, not to have to put my hand in my own pocket to pay the -bill. It is luck, no doubt; a large slice of luck, larded with talent -and peppered with experience. That's the sort of meal for a man that -wants to get on in the world, and that's just what I have got before -me. Now, when I walk out of this hotel, I shall have two thousand -pounds in my pocket. In my pocket!--not to be paid on my arrival at -Ceylon, as the old gentleman at first insisted. Ally was of great -assistance there. I wonder why she backed me so energetically? I -suppose, because she thought it would have been <i>infra dig</i>. for her -brother to appear in the eyes of those blessed natives, over whom he -is to exercise superintendence, as though he had not been considered -worthy of being trusted with the money, and she was delighted with the -notion of bringing it down here herself and handing it to me.</p> - -<p>"If I hadn't touched the money until my arrival at Ceylon, I should -have had to wait a pretty long time. You're a dear old gentleman, Mr. -Claxton, and you mean well; but I don't quite see the fun of spending -the rest of my days in looking after a lot of niggers under a sun that -would dry the life-blood out of me before my time. There is an old -saying, that everyone must eat a peck of dirt in the course of their -lives. Well, I ate mine early, took it down at one gulp, and I don't -want any more of the same food. Besides, it is all very well for Ally -to talk about gratitude and that kind of thing; but she does not know -what I do, and it is entirely because I know what I do about my worthy -brother-in-law, that I have been enabled to put the screw upon him, -and to get out of him that very respectable bundle of bank-notes. That -was just like my luck again, to find that out, and be able to bring it -home to him so pat; directly I first got on the scent, I knew there -was money in it, and I followed it up until I placed it chuck-a-block -before him, and he parted freely. In such a respectable way, too. None -of your extortion; none of your threatening letters; none of your -'left till called for,' under initials, at the post-office; none of -your hanging about London spending money which nobody can imagine how -you get, and thereby starting suspicions of other matters which might -not come out quite so nicely if looked into. 'Agent at Ceylon to the -firm of Calverley and Company, brokers, Mincing-lane, London; -iron-smelters and boiler-makers, Swartmoor Foundry, Cumberland;' -that's what Thomas D. will have engraved on his card when he gets -there; and the two thousand pounds, as John gravely remarked before -Alice, were for fitting-up the office, and other necessary expenses. I -wonder what that poor child thought the other necessary expenses could -possibly be, to take such an amount of money?</p> - -<p>"No, dear sir, thank you very much. I am willing to allow that the -whole thing was done extremely well, and without causing the smallest -suspicion in the mind of little Ally; but you paid me the money -because you could not help it, and you will have to pay me a great -deal more for that very same reason. You're a very great scoundrel, -John Claxton, Esquire; a much greater scoundrel than I am, though I -have taken your money, and have not the remotest intention of becoming -your agent in Ceylon. You're a cold-blooded villain, sir, carrying out -your own selfish ends, and not, like myself, a generous creature, -acting upon impulse. Notwithstanding the fact that I have your money -in my pocket, I almost grudge you the satisfaction you will experience -when, in the course of to-morrow or the next day, you will hear the -news which will lead you to imagine that you are rid of me for ever. -But I console myself with the reflection, that when I turn up again, -as I undoubtedly shall, your disgust will be proportionately -intensified.</p> - -<p>"There," as he selected two or three papers from a mass before him and -carefully tore the rest into pieces, "there is the letter relating to -the document which has already done so much for me, and which is to be -my philosopher's-stone. I must not run the chances of wetting and -spoiling that paper when I take my midnight bath, so I shall hand it -over to Mrs. D. when I give her the money to take care of. May as well -put a seal on it though, for Mrs. D. is naturally curious, and as -jealous as a female Othello. One o'clock; just the time I promised to -meet her. Now then, the money in this pocket, the letter in that, and -the other papers torn up, and the brandy-bottle emptied. What you may -call a clean sweep of the whole concern."</p> - -<p>After settling his hat to his satisfaction, and looking at himself in -the glass with great complacency, Tom Durham strolled from the room, -leaving the door wide open behind him. He nodded familiarly to a -waiter whom he passed in the passage, but who, instead of returning -the salutation, stared at him in wrathful wonder--they were -unaccustomed to such gentry at Radley's--and then he passed into the -street. Looking leisurely around him, he made his way back again to -the promenade on which he had held his conversation with Alice -Claxton, and there, standing by one of the cannon, was another woman, -apparently awaiting his arrival. A woman about thirty years of age, -with swarthy complexion, bright beady black eyes, and dull blue-black -hair. French, without doubt. French in the fashion of her inexpensive -garments and the manner in which they were put on; undeniably French -in her boots and gloves, in her gait, in the gesture and recognition -which she made when she saw Tom Durham approaching her. That estimable -gentleman, apparently, was displeased at this gesture, for he frowned -when he saw it, and when he arrived at the woman's side, he said, -"Don't be so infernally demonstrative, Pauline; I have told you of -that before."</p> - -<p>"Mais, should I stand like a stone or stock when you come before me?" -said the woman, with the slightest trace of a foreign accent. "I was -longing to see you, and you came. Is it, then, astonishing--"</p> - -<p>"No, all right; don't jaw," said Tom Durham shortly. "Only, in our -position it is not advisable to attract more notice than necessary. -Well, here you are."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am here."</p> - -<p>"All goes well; I told you there was an old gentleman--Claxton by -name--connected with Calverley's firm, for which I'm supposed to be -going out as agent, from whom I could get a sum of money, and I have -got it--he sent it to me."</p> - -<p>"Ah, ah, he sent it to you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, by--by a messenger whom he could trust; and this is not by any -means the last that I shall have from him. He thinks I am off for the -East, and that he is rid of me; but as soon as this sum is spent, he -shall know the difference."</p> - -<p>"You have made the arrangements about that?"</p> - -<p>"I have arranged everything. I saw the pilot; he told me it was -blowing hard outside, and that he shall pass the night off the Hurst. -I have been on board, and seen exactly how best to do what I intend; -and now there is nothing left but to give you your instructions."</p> - -<p>"Stay," said the woman, laying her hand on his breast, and looking -earnestly into his face. "You are certain you run no risk; you are -certain that--"</p> - -<p>"Take your hand away," he said; "you will never understand our English -ways, Pauline; the people here cannot make out what you are about. I -am all right, depend upon it. I could swim four times the distance in -much rougher weather; and even if there were any danger, the prize is -much too great to chance the loss of it for a little risk. Don't be -afraid, Pauline," he added, with a little softening of his voice, "but -clear that quick, clever brain of yours and attend to me. Here is the -bundle of bank-notes, and here is a letter which is almost as -important; place them both securely in the bosom of your dress, and -don't take them out for one instant until you hand them over to me -to-morrow morning at Lymington station--you understand?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly," said the woman, taking the packets from him. "What time -will you be there?"</p> - -<p>"By half-past seven, when the first train passes. We can loaf away the -day on the beach at Weymouth--we might go over to Portland, if you -have any fancy to see the place; I have not; all in good time, say -I--and start for Guernsey by the midnight boat. Now is there anything -more to say?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Pauline; then suddenly, "Yes. Apropos of Portland, -Wetherall and Moger were in this place to-day. I saw them at the -station, in the train going up to town. They put their heads out of -the window to look after you."</p> - -<p>"The devil!" cried Tom Durham; "they were down here, were they, and -you saw them? Why, what on earth were you doing at the station?"</p> - -<p>"I arrived here too soon, and walked up there to pass the time."</p> - -<p>"Did you--did you see any one else?" asked Tom Durham, looking fixedly -at her.</p> - -<p>"Any one else? Plenty--porters, passengers, what not; but of people -that I knew, not a soul," answered the woman, raising her eyes and -meeting his gaze with perfect calmness.</p> - -<p>"That's all right," he muttered; then louder, "Now it's time for me to -go on board. Goodbye, Pauline; make your way to Lymington, and look -out for me at the station at seven-thirty to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p>As she stood looking after him, a hard, defiant expression came over -the woman's face. "Did I see any one else?" she said between her set -teeth; "yes, <i>mon cher</i>, I saw the pale, white-faced girl whom you -held in your arms and kissed at parting, and who fell back into the -carriage and cried like a baby, as she is. This, then, was the secret -of your refusing to go to India with the money of this old fool whom -you have robbed! Or rather whom she has robbed; for she was the -messenger who brought it to you, and it is doubtless she who has -beguiled this dotard out of the bank-notes which she handed over to -you, her lover. <i>Peste!</i> If that slavish love I have for you were not -mixed with the dread and terror which I have learnt from experience, I -would escape with this money to my own land, and leave you and your -mignonne to make it out as best you might. But I am weak enough to -love you still, and my revenge on her must wait for a more fitting -opportunity."</p> - -<p>Her passion spent, Pauline gathered her shawl tightly round her and -walked away towards the town.</p> -<br> - -<p>On board the steam-ship Massilia matters had happened pretty much as -Tom Durham had foreseen. That capital sample of the Peninsular and -Oriental Company's fleet worked out of harbour at half-past two, and, -in charge of a pilot, made her way slowly and steadily down -Southampton Water. The wind freshened, and darkness coming on, the -captain decided on anchoring off Hurst Castle for the night, and -proceeding on his voyage at daylight. This decision was greatly to the -delight of the passengers, who had not yet shaken down into that -pleasant companionship which such a voyage frequently brings about, -and who, restless and strange in their unaccustomed position, were -glad to seek their berths at a very early hour. During the afternoon's -run Tom Durham had succeeded in creating for himself a vast amount of -popularity. He chatted with the captain about nautical matters, of -which he had obtained a smattering when he was apprentice on board the -old East Indiaman; he talked to the lady passengers, deprecating their -dread of sea-sickness, and paying them pleasant attention, while he -smoked with the gentlemen, and took care to let them all know the -important position which he occupied, as the agent of Calverley and -Company. Never was there so agreeable a man.</p> - -<p>At about one in the morning, when perfect quiet reigned throughout the -ship, the passengers being asleep in their berths, the men, save those -on duty, sound in the forecastle, and the echo of the watch-officer's -footsteps dying away in the distance, Tom Durham suddenly appeared at -the head of the saloon companion, and made his way swiftly towards the -middle of the ship. He was dressed as in the morning, save that he -wore no coat, and that instead of boots he had on thin light slippers. -When he arrived opposite the huge half-circle of the paddle-box he -stopped, and groping with his hands speedily found an iron ring, -seizing which he pulled open a door, which revolved on its hinges, -disclosing a wooden panel, which he slid back, and stepping through -the aperture found himself standing on one of the broad paddles of the -enormous wheel. In an instant he had pulled the first door back to its -previous position, and stepping lightly from paddle to paddle stood on -the nethermost one just above the surface of the water. He paused for -a moment, bending down and peering out into the darkness, then raising -his hands high up above his head and clasping them together, he dived -down into the water, scarcely making a splash.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes afterwards, one of the two men always on duty in the -little telegraph hut under Hurst Castle, opened the door, and -accompanied by a big black retriever, who was growling angrily, walked -out into the night. When he returned, his companion hailed him from -the little bedroom overhead.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Needham--what's the dog growling about?"</p> - -<p>"I thought I heard a cry," said the man addressed; "Nep must have -thought so too, by the way he's going on; but I can see nothing. When -I was out a few minutes ago I thought I saw something like a dog -swimming near the Massilia, lying at anchor there, but it isn't there -now. I doubt, after all, it may have been my fancy."</p> - -<p>"I wish you would keep your fancy to yourself, and not let it rouse me -up," growled his mate. "One don't get too much rest in this blessed -place at the best of times."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> -<h5>HOME, SWEET HOME.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Fashion, amidst the innumerable changes which she has insisted on, -seems to have dealt lightly with Great Walpole-street. It may be that -she has purposely left it untouched to remain an example of the heavy, -solemn, solid style of a hundred years ago; a striking contrast to the -"gardens," "crescents," "mansions," all stucco, plate-glass, and huge -portico, of modern days; or it may be that finding it intractable, -unalterable, unassailable, she has looked upon it as a relic of -barbarism, and determined altogether to ignore its existence. However -that may be, the street is little changed since the days of its -erection; it still remains a long, and, to those gazing down it from -either end, apparently interminable line of large, substantial, -three-storied, dull-coloured brick houses, stretching from -Chandos-square in the south to Guelph Park in the north, so long, so -uniform, so unspeakably dreary, as to give colour to the assertion of -a celebrated wit, who, on his death-bed moaning forth that "there is -an end to all things," added feebly, "except Great Walpole-street."</p> - -<p>In its precincts gravity and decorum have set up their head-quarters; -on many of its door-plates the passers-by may read the names of -distinguished members of the faculty, old in age and high in renown, -pupils of Abernethy and Astley Cooper, who with the first few hundreds -which they could scrape together after their degrees were obtained, -hired, and furnished, as a first step to professional status, the -houses in which they still reside, and in which they have since -inspected so many thousand tongues, and passed the verdict of life or -death upon so many thousand patients. Youth must be resident here and -there in Great Walpole-street, as in other places, but if so, it is -never seen. No nursemaids with heads obstinately turned the other way -drive the pleasant perambulator against the legs of elderly people -airing themselves in the modified sunlight which occasionally visits -the locality; no merry children troop along its pavement; from the -long drawing-room windows, hung with curtains of velvet and muslin, -issues no sound of piano or human voice. Although there is no beadle -to keep inviolate its sanctity, the street-boy as he approaches its -confines stops his shrill whistling, and puts his tip-cat into his -pocket; the "patterers" of the second editions pass it by, conscious -that the rumours of war, or of the assassinations of eminent -personages, will fall flat upon the ears of the inhabitants; while -even the fragmentary announcement, "Elopement--young lady--noble -markis," will fail in extracting the pence from the pockets of the -denizens of the lower regions in this respectable quarter.</p> - -<p>It is essentially a carriage neighbourhood, with ranges of mews -branching out of and running parallel to it; and the vehicles are -quite in keeping with the street and with their owners. Besides the -doctors' broughams, high swinging chariots, now scarcely ever seen -save on drawing-room days or in carriage bazaars, with huge -hammercloths and vast emblazoned panels, are there common enough. -Roomy landaus, broad barouches, with fat-horses, the leather of whose -harness is almost invisible beneath the heavy silver plating, coachmen -in curly white bob-wigs, and giant footmen gorgeous in hair-powder; -all these are to be found in Great Walpole-street.</p> - -<p>Money, money, money! it all seems to say. We have money, and we will -take care that you shall know it. We will not pay enormous rents for -poky tenements in Mayfair, or straggling caravanserais in Tyburnia; we -do not expend our substance in park-phaetons or Victorias, any more -than in giving "drums" or "at homes." We have, during the season, -several dinner-parties, at which the wine set before you does not come -from the grocer's or the publican's, but has been in our cellars for -years; several musical evenings, and one or two balls. We go to the -Opera three or four times during the season, occasionally to the -theatre, frequently to a classical concert, or an oratorio; but we -would as soon think of attending a prize-fight as a pigeon-match, or -of prohibiting our womankind from going to church, as of taking them -to listen to comic songs in a supper-room. We are rich, which you may -be; but we are respectable, which you are not! Vaunt your fashion as -much as you please, but the home of moneyed decency and decorum is -Great Walpole-street.</p> - -<p>Six o'clock on an October evening, with a chill damp wind howling at -intervals through the funnel made by the opposing lines of houses, is -not the time in which this locality looks its best. If it is dreary in -the spring brightness, in the summer sunshine, it is doubly dreary in -the autumn decadence, when the leaves torn from the trees in Guelph -Park mix with the dust and bits of straw and scraps of paper which -gather together in swerving eddies in every possible corner, and when -in most of the houses the shutters are still closed, and the blinds -have not shed the newspaper coverings in which they have been -enwrapped during the absence of the inhabitants. In one of the largest -houses of the street, on one particular October evening, no such signs -of absenteeism were visible; the whiteness of the broad door-step was -unsullied, the plate-glass windows were free from speck or spot, the -dwarf wire-blinds in the dining-room stood rigidly defiant of all -criticism, and the muslin curtains in the drawing-room seemed to have -lost all the softness and pliancy of their nature, and hung stiff, and -white, and rigid, as the gaunt and bony hands which from time to time -pushed them on one side, as the blank and colourless face which from -time to time peered through them into the street. These hands and that -face belonged to Mrs. Calverley, the mistress of the mansion. A thin, -spare woman of fifty years of age, with a figure in which were angles -where there should have been roundness, and straightness of outline -where there should have been fulness. Her silk dress was of an -undecided fawn-colour, and in place of any relieving white collar, she -wore a wisp of black net round her throat. Her face was long, with a -large straight-nose, prominent eyes of steely blue, and a long upper -lip, between which and its thin pallid companion there gleamed a row -of strong white teeth. Her thin scanty iron-gray hair was taken off -from her forehead above the temples and gathered into a small knot at -the back. Such an expanse of colourless flesh, such a dull level waste -of human features unrelieved by the slightest scintilla of interest or -sympathy!</p> - -<p>In her prim, flat-soled creaking shoes, Mrs. Calverley walked to the -window, pushed back the curtains, and looked out down the silent -street; then, with a sound which was something between a sigh of -despair and a snort of defiance, she returned to the low prie-dieu -chair worked in wool, but covered with a shiny, crackling, yellow -substance; and arranging her scanty drapery around her, interwove her -bony fingers in her lap and sat bolt upright, staring rigidly before -her. All the furniture in the room which was capable of being covered -up was clad in a uniform of brown holland; the chairs were dressed in -pinafores, the big broad sofa had a loosely cut greatcoat of the same -material; even the chandeliers had on holland bags. There was no light -in the room, but the gas lamps in the street were reflected from the -bare shining rosewood table, from the long grand pianoforte, from the -huge ormolu clock ticking gravely on the mantelpiece, from the glass -shades enshrining wax flowers and fruit, which, made such a poor -pretence of being real, and from the old-fashioned handsomely-cut -girandoles. By the chair in which Mrs. Calverley was seated stood a -frame of Berlin work; in the middle of the hearth-rug before the -fireplace--fireless now, and filled with a grim pattern of cut -coloured paper--lay a stuffed white-haired dog, intently regarding his -tail through his glass eyes, and apparently wondering what he had done -in life to be consigned to such a degraded position.</p> - -<p>A quarter-past six, half-past, a quarter to seven, ring out from the -neighbouring church, and at each sound of the chimes Mrs. Calverley -rises to her feet, creaks across to the window, looks forth, creaks -back again, and resumes her stony position. At length there comes a -half-timid ring of the bell, which she recognises at once, straightens -her back, and settles herself more rigidly than ever. A few minutes -after, the drawing-room door opens, and a voice, the owner of which -cannot be seen, is heard saying, "Dear me, all in darkness, Jane?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Calverley makes no reply, but rings the bell, and when the -servant appears, says to him in a thin acid voice, "You can light the -gas, James; and now that your master has come home at last, dinner can -be served."</p> - -<p>Upon this remark Mr. Calverley's only comment is a repetition of "Dear -me!" He is a middle-sized, pleasant-looking man, with fair hair -slightly sprinkled with gray, gray whiskers, light-blue eyes, -and marvellous pink-and-white complexion like a doll: a -gentlemanly-looking man in his plain black frock-coat and waistcoat, -gray trousers, black-silk cravat and pearl pin, and neat buttoned -boots. He looks rather nervously to his wife, and edges his way -towards her round the table. When he is within a few feet of her he -produces a newspaper from his pocket, and makes a feeble tender of it, -saying, "The evening paper, my dear; I thought you would like to -see--"</p> - -<p>"I should like to see you attempt to relieve the monotony of my life, -Mr. Calverley, and not to leave me here alone, while you were -doubtless enjoying yourself."</p> - -<p>"My dear, I assure you I have come straight home."</p> - -<p>"Did business detain you until after six o'clock in Mincing-lane?"</p> - -<p>"No, my dear, of course not till six o'clock; I walked home, and on my -way I just looked in at the club, and--"</p> - -<p>"At the club!" That was all Mrs. Calverley said, but the manner in -which she said it had its due effect. Mr. Calverley opened the leaves -of a photograph album, with every portrait in which he was thoroughly -familiar, and began to be extremely interested in its contents.</p> - -<p>"Dinner will be ready directly," said Mrs. Calverley; "had you not -better wash your hands?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, my dear," said the disconsolate man; "but I washed them at -the cl--"</p> - -<p>He pulled himself up just in time; the obnoxious word had very nearly -slipped out, but the servant announcing dinner at the moment, and Mrs. -Calverley laying the tips of her bony fingers in the hollow of her -husband's arm, the happy pair proceeded to the banquet.</p> - -<p>It was a good dinner, handsomely served, but Mr. Calverley can -scarcely be said to have enjoyed it. At first he audibly asked for -wine, but after he had been helped three or four times, he glanced -hurriedly across the long table, at the other end of which his wife -was seated, and furtively motioned to the butler by touching his -glass. This pantomime and its results were soon noticed by Mrs. -Calverley, who, after glaring at her husband for a moment, gave a -little shiver, and said:</p> - -<p>"It is of no use paying Doctor Chipchase his fees if his advice is to -be scouted in this manner; you know what he said about your drinking -wine."</p> - -<p>"My dear, I only--"</p> - -<p>"You only fly in the face of Providence, Mr. Calverley, and behave -unjustly to the office in which your life is insured. You only add -another to the long catalogue of weaknesses and moral cowardices, by -the constant display of which you render my life a burden to me. I am -sick of talking to you myself; I shall write and ask Martin to come -and stay with us for a few weeks, and see what effect his influence -will have upon you."</p> - -<p>"I am sure I shall be very glad to see Martin, my dear," said Mr. -Calverley, after standing up reverently to say grace on the removal of -the cloth; "he is a very good fellow, and--"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk of a clergyman of the Church of England in that way, Mr. -Calverley, if you please. 'Good fellow,' indeed! My son Martin is a -good man, and an ornament to his calling."</p> - -<p>"Yes, my dear, of course he is; preaches an excellent sermon, does -Martin, and intones quite musically. I should like to see him a little -more cheerful, I mean a little less ascetic, you know; take his wine -more freely, and not look quite so much as if he was fed upon parched -peas and filtered water."</p> - -<p>"You are profane, as usual," said his wife. "Whenever you touch upon -any member of my family, your temper gets the better of you, and your -uncontrollable tendency to scoffing and scepticism breaks forth. -Perhaps you will not think it too much trouble to pass me the -biscuits."</p> - -<p>"My dear Jane!" murmured the wretched man; and after handing the -silver biscuit-barrel to his wife, he sat by, not daring to help -himself to another glass of wine from the well-filled decanters before -him, while the mere fact of seeing her munching away at the hard -farinaceous food nearly drove him mad with thirst.</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Calverley had concluded this succulent repast, she rose from -her seat, and, without taking any notice of her husband, creaked -stiffly out of the room. John Calverley, lover of ease and -tranquillity as he was, scarcely regretted this little conjugal -dispute, inasmuch as that if Mrs. Calverley had not, in consequence of -the words that had passed between them, been on her dignified -behaviour, she would have remained to lock up the wine. Whereas John -managed to swallow two glasses of his favourite Madeira before he -joined her in the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>It was not very cheerful in the drawing-room. The gas had been turned -low down, and the principal light in the room, much softened and -shaded, came from a reading-lamp placed immediately above the -work-frame at which Mrs. Calverley's bony fingers were busily engaged -depicting the story of Jael, with a very rugged profile, and Sisera, -the death-glare in whose eyes was represented by a couple of steel -beads. John Calverley, furtively wiping his lips after the Madeira, -shambled awkwardly into the room, and could scarcely repress a groan -at the ghastliness of its appearance. But the generous wine which he -had drunk helped to cheer him a little; and after wandering to and fro -in a purposeless manner, he approached his wife, and said: -"Won't you play something, dear?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you," replied Mrs. Calverley; "I wish to finish this work."</p> - -<p>"It is rather a nice thing," said John, bending over the production, -and criticising it in a connoisseur-like manner; "what is it all -about?"</p> - -<p>"It is well that no one is here to hear this lamentable display of -ignorance," said Mrs. Calverley, with a snort. "It is a scriptural -story, Mr. Calverley, and is intended as a footstool for the Church of -St. Beowulph."</p> - -<p>"O yes," said John, nodding his head; "I know--Bewsher's place."</p> - -<p>"It would be more decent, as well as more correct, to speak of it as -the church in which Mr. Bewsher is officiating minister, I think," -said Mrs. Calverley with another snort.</p> - -<p>"To be sure, my dear; quite correct," said peace-loving John. "By the -way, talking about officiating ministers, perhaps you had better not -ask Martin to come to us just yet; I have got to go down to that place -in the North next week."</p> - -<p>"What place in the North?" said Mrs. Calverley, looking up.</p> - -<p>"What place? Why, my dear, Swartmoor, of course--the foundry, you -know; that's the only place I go to in the North."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what place you do or do not go to in the North, or -anywhere else, Mr. Calverley," said his wife, sticking her needle into -the canvas, and interlacing her bony fingers and sitting bolt upright, -as she glared straight at him; "I only know this, that I am determined -not to stand this state of things much longer."</p> - -<p>"But, my dear--"</p> - -<p>"Don't 'my dear' me, if you please, but listen to what I have to say. -When I married you, Mr. Calverley, to my sorrow, now some ten years -ago, you were nothing more than the head clerk in the house of -Lorraine Brothers, which my grandfather had founded, which my father -and uncles had established, and in which my late husband, Mr. Gurwood, -had been a sleeping partner."</p> - -<p>"I must say that--"</p> - -<p>"Silence, if you please; I will not be interrupted. I took you from -that inferior position, and made you my husband. I made you master of -this house and my fortune. I raised you, Mr. Calverley. I tell you, I -raised you, sir, from obscurity to position, from comparative penury -to wealth; and what is my reward? Day after day you are absent from -home at your counting-house in Mincing-lane. I don't object to that; I -suppose it is necessary; but I know--yes, I know, Mr. Calverley--this -is not my first experience of men of business; I have been a -grand-daughter, a daughter, and a sister of the firm, and though -latterly Mr. Gurwood was not quite regular in his attendance, at least -at one time he was an excellent man of business--so that I may say -also the wife of the firm, and I know that business hours are over at -five, and that my sainted father used then to come straight home to -Clapham by the omnibus."</p> - -<p>"I--"</p> - -<p>"You must allow me to speak, if you please; I will not be interrupted. -Instead of which, I find you going to your club and dawdling there to -the latest minute, often keeping my dinner waiting; and when you -return home, your conversation is frivolous, your manner light and -flighty, and wanting in repose; your tastes and habits evidently -unsuitable to a person in the position of my husband. I have borne all -this without complaint; I know that all of us mortals--sinful -mortals--have a cross to bear, and that you have been bestowed upon me -in that capacity. But, be a lone deserted woman when I have a husband -whose legitimate business it is to stay at home and take care of me, I -will not. These Swartmoor works are all very well, I daresay, and I -know you declare that they bring in a vast deal of profit; but there -was profit enough in my father's time without any of your iron works; -and if you intend to continue paying them a visit every fortnight, and -staying several days away, as you have done lately, they shall be -given up, Mr. Calverley--they shall be given up, I say. I may be of no -more concern to you than a chair or a table, but I will not be a -deserted woman, and these iron works shall be given up."</p> - -<p>Those who had seen but little of the pleasant-faced John Calverley, -would scarcely have recognised him in the darkly-frowning man who now -strode forward, and crossing his arms on the back of a chair -immediately in front of his wife, said in a very quiet but very -determined voice:</p> - -<p>"They shall not be given up. Understand that once for all--they shall -not be given up. You may say what you like, but I am master in my -business, if not in my home, and they shall not be given up. And now, -Jane, you must listen to me; must listen to words which I never -intended to have said, if the speech you have just made had not -rendered it necessary. You have told me what you have pleased to call -facts; now I will give you my version of them. When I married you ten -years ago--and God knows you cannot deplore that marriage more -heartily than I do--I was, as you say, the head clerk of the firm -which your father had established. But in his latter days he had been -ill and inattentive to business; and after his death your uncles, to -whom the concern was left, proved themselves utterly inadequate to its -guidance; and if it had not been for me, the firm of Lorraine and -Company would have been in the Gazette. You know this well enough; you -know that I, as head clerk, took the whole affair on my shoulders, -reorganised it, opened out new avenues for its commerce, and finally -succeeded in making it what it was when you first saw me. You taunt me -with having been raised by you from penury to position; but you know -that the whole of your fortune was embarked in the business, and that -if it had not been for my clear head and hard work, you would have -lost every penny of it. You accuse me of being light and frivolous and -unsuited to you, of being away from my home; though, except on these -business expeditions, not an evening do I pass out of your society. In -return, I ask you what sort of a home you make for me? what sign of -interest, of comfort, of anything like womanly grace and feeling is -there about it? What reception do I meet with on my return from -business? what communion, what reciprocity is there between us? Every -word I say, every remark I make, you either sneer or snap at. You are -a hard, intolerant Pharisee, Jane Calverley. By your hardness and -intolerance, by your perpetually nagging and worrying at him, you -tried to break the spirit of your former husband, George Gurwood, one -of the kindest fellows that ever lived. But you failed in that; you -only drove him to drink and to death. Now I have said my say, have -said what I never intended should pass my lips, what never would have -passed them, if it had not been for your provocation. I wish you -good-night--I am now going to the club."</p> - -<p>So saying, John Calverley bowed his head and passed from the room, -leaving his wife no longer rigid and defiant, but swaying herself to -and fro, and moaning helplessly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> -<h5>PAULINE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The cold gray morning light, shining through the little window of a -small bedroom in a second-rate hotel at Lymington, made its way -through the aperture between the common dimity curtains, which had -been purposely separated overnight, and fell on the slumbering figure -of Pauline. The poor and scanty furniture of the room, with its dingy -bed-hangings, its wooden washstand, two rush-bottomed chairs, and -rickety one-sided chest of drawers, all painted a pale stone-colour, -were in strong contrast with the richness of colouring observable in -the sleeper,--observable in her jet-black hair, now taken from off her -face and gathered into one large coil at the back of her head; in her -olive complexion, sun-embrowned indeed, but yet showing distinctly the -ebb and flow of her southern blood; and in the deep orange-hued -handkerchief daintily knotted round her neck. See, now, how troubled -are her slumbers; how from between her parted lips comes a long though -scarcely audible moan; how the strong thin hand lying outside the -coverlet clutches convulsively at nothing; and how she seems in her -unrest to be struggling to free herself from the thraldom of the -troublous dream, under the influence of which part of the torture -suffered by her during the previous day is again pressing upon her!</p> - -<p>Yes; the woman with the pale tear-blurred face is there once again. -Once again Tom Durham stands at the carriage-door, whispering to her -with evident earnestness, until the guard touches him on the shoulder, -and the whistle shrieks, and then she bends forward, and he holds her -for a moment in his outspread arms, and kisses her once, twice, thrice -on her lips, until he is pulled aside by the porter coming to shut the -door of the already-moving carriage, and she falls back in an agony of -grief. There is a moisture in his eyes too; such as she, Pauline, with -all her experience of him, has never seen there. He is the lover of -this pale-faced woman, and therefore he must die! She will kill him -herself! She will kill him with the pearl-handled knife which Gaetano, -the mate of the Italian ship, gave her, telling her that all the -Lombard girls wore such daggers in their garters, ready for the heart -of any Tedesco who might insult them, or any other girl who might -prove their rival. The dagger is upstairs, in the little bedroom at -the top of the house, overlooking the Cannebière, which she shares -with Mademoiselle Mathilde. She will fetch it at once; and after it -has served its purpose she will carry it to the chapel of Notre Dame -de la Garde, and hang it up among the votive offerings: the pictures -of shipwrecks, storms, sea-fights, and surgical operations; the models -of vessels, the ostrich-eggs, the crutches left by cripples no longer -lame, and the ends of the ropes by which men have been saved from -drowning. How clearly she can see the place, and all its contents, -before her now! She will leave the dagger there: as the weapon by -which a traitor and an Englishman has been slain, it will not be out -of place, though Père Gasselin shake his head and lift his monitory -finger. She will fetch it at once. Ah, how delicious and yet how -strange seem to her the smell of the pot-au-feu, and the warm aroma of -the chocolate! How steep the stairs seem to have become; she will -never be able to reach the top! What is this, Pierre and Jean are -saying? The sea has swept away the breakwater at La Joliette, and is -rapidly rushing into the town! It is here; it is in the street below! -Fighting madly with the boiling waters is one man--she can catch a -glimpse of his face now. Grand Dieu, it is Tom! She will save him--no, -too late, he is borne swiftly past, he is--</p> - -<p>And with a short suppressed scream she woke.</p> - -<p>It was probably the rapping of the chambermaid at the bedroom door -which dissipated Pauline's dream, and recalled her to herself, and it -is certain that the chambermaid, whose quick ears caught the scream, -went downstairs more than ever impressed with terror at the "foreign -person" whom she had scarcely had sufficient courage to conduct to her -room on the previous evening. Notwithstanding the bizarre shape which -they had assumed, these reminiscences of a portion of Pauline's past -life had been so vivid, that it was with great difficulty she could -clear her brain, and arrive at an idea of why she found herself in the -dingy bedroom of a country inn, and of what lay before her. Sitting -upon the edge of her bed, with her arms crossed upon her bosom, she -gradually recalled the occurrences of the previous day, and came to -comprehend what had been the key-note of her dream, and who was the -pale-faced woman whose presence had so disturbed her. There was, -however, no time for reflection at that moment; she had been aroused -in accordance with instructions given on the previous night, and there -was but little time for her to dress herself and make her way to the -station, where she was to await the arrival of her husband. Her toilet -completed, she hurried downstairs, and declining to taste any of the -substantial breakfast which the hearty Hampshire landlady was then -engaged in discussing, and to which she invited her visitor, issued -out into the broad street of the quiet old town.</p> - -<p>Past the low-windowed shops, where the sleepy 'prentice-boys were -taking down the shutters, and indulging in such fragmentary -conversation as could be carried on under the eyes of their masters, -which they knew were bent upon them from the upper rooms; past the -neat little post-office, where the click of the telegraph-needles was -already audible, and whence were issuing the sturdy country post-men, -each with his huge well-filled leathern wallet on his back; past the -yacht-builder's yard, where the air was redolent of pitch and tar, and -newly-chipped wood, where through the half-opened gates could be seen -the slender, tapering masts of many yachts already laid up for the -season in the creek, and where a vast amount of hammering and sawing -and planing was, as the neighbours thought interminably, going on. Not -but what the yacht-building yard is one of the great features of the -place; for, were it not for the yacht-owners, who first come down to -give orders about the building of their vessels; then pay a visit to -see how their instructions are being carried out; and finally, finding -the place comfortable, tolerably accessible, and not too dear, bring -their wives and families, and make it their head-quarters for the -yachting season, what stranger would ever come to Lymington? what -occupants would be found for its lodging-houses and hotels?</p> - -<p>The clock struck seven as Pauline passed through the booking-office at -the railway station, and stepped out on to the platform. She looked -hastily round her in search for Tom Durham, but did not see him. A -sudden chill fell upon her as the remembrance of her dream flashed -across her mind. The next instant she was chiding herself for -imagining that he would be there. There was yet half an hour before -the arrival of the train by which they were to proceed to Weymouth; he -would be tired by his long swim from the ship to the shore, his -clothes would of course be saturated, and he would have to dry them; -he would doubtless rest as long as he could in the place where he had -found shelter, and only join her just in time to start. There was no -doubt about his finding shelter somewhere; he was too clever not to do -that; he was the cleverest man in all the world; it was for his talent -she had chosen him from all the others years ago; it was for--and then -Pauline's face fell, remembering that Tom Durham was as unscrupulous -as he was clever, and that if this pale-faced woman were really -anything to him, he would occupy his talent in arranging how and when -to meet her in secret, in planning how to obtain farther sums of money -from the old man whose messenger she had been.</p> - -<p>How the thought of that woman haunted her! How her whole life seemed -to have changed since she had witnessed that parting at the railway -station yesterday! She felt that it would be impossible for her to -hide from Tom the fact that she was labouring under doubt and -depression of some kind or other. She knew his tact and determination -in learning whatever he thought it behoved him to find out; and she -thought it would be better to speak openly to him, to tell him what -she had seen, and to ask him for some explanation. Yes, she would do -that. The train was then in sight; he would no longer delay putting in -an appearance on the platform, and in a few minutes they would be -travelling away to soft air and lovely scenery, with more than -sufficient money for their present wants, and for a time at least with -rest and peace before them. Then she would tell him all; and he would -doubtless reassure her, showing her how silly and jealous she had -been, but forgiving her because she had suffered solely through her -love for him.</p> - -<p>By this time a number of passengers had gathered together on the -platform, awaiting the arrival of the train, and Pauline passed -hastily among them looking eagerly to the right and left, and, -retracing her steps through the booking-office, opened the door and -glanced up the street leading to the station. No sign of Tom Durham -anywhere! Perhaps he had found a nearer station to a point at which he -had swum ashore, and would be in the train now rapidly approaching.</p> - -<p>The train stopped; two or three passengers alighted, and were -so soon mixed up with the crowd of sailors, ship-carpenters, and -farm-labourers rushing to take their seats, that Pauline could not -distinguish them, but she knew Tom was not amongst them; and when she -walked quickly down the line of carriages, throwing a rapid but -comprehensive glance round each, she saw him not; and the train passed -on, and she was left once more alone upon the platform.</p> - -<p>Then, with frowning brows and set rigid lips, Pauline commenced -walking up and down, covering with her long striding footsteps, so -different from her usual easy, swimming gait, exactly the same amount -of space at every turn, wheeling, apparently unconsciously, at the -same point, treading almost in the same prints which she had -previously made, keeping her eyes steadfastly fixed on the ground, and -being totally unaware of all that was passing around her. She was a -clear-headed as well as a strong-willed woman, accustomed to look life -and its realities boldly in the face, and, unlike the majority of her -countrymen and women, swift to detect the shallowness of sophistry -when propounded by others, and careful never even to attempt to impose -upon herself. Throughout her life, so long as she could remember, she -had been in the habit of thinking-out any project of importance which -had arisen in her career while walking to and fro, just as she was -doing then. It was perhaps the sameness of the action, perhaps some -reminiscence of her dream still lingering in her mind, that turned her -memory to the last occasion when she had taken such thoughtful -exercise; and the scene exactly as it occurred rose before her.</p> - -<p>The time, early morning, not much after six o'clock; the place, the -Prado at Marseilles; the persons, a few belated blue-bloused workmen -hurrying to their work, a few soldiers lounging about as only soldiers -always seem to lounge when they are not on duty, a limonadière with -her temple deposited on the ground by her side, while she washes the -sparkling tin cups in a sparkling tin cups in a drinking-fountain; -two or three water-carts pounding along and refreshingly sprinkling -the white dusty road, two or three English grooms exercising horses, -and she, Pauline Lunelle, dame du comptoir at the Restaurant du Midi, -in the Cannebière, pacing up and down the Prado, and turning over in -her mind a proposition on the acceptance or rejection of which -depended her future happiness or misery. That proposition was a -proposition of marriage, not by any means the first she had received. -The handsome, black-eyed, black-haired, olive-skinned dame du comptoir -was one of the reigning belles of the town, and the Restaurant du Midi -was such a popular place of resort, that she never lacked admirers. -All the breakfast-eaters, the smokers, the billiard-players, even the -decorated old gentlemen who dropped in as regularly as clockwork every -evening for a game of dominoes or tric-trac, paid their court to her, -and in several cases this court was something more than the mere -conventional hat-doffing or the few words of empty politeness -whispered to her as she attended to the settlement of their accounts. -Adolphe de Noailles--only a sous-lieutenant of artillery, to be sure, -but a man of good family, and who, it was said, was looked upon with -favour by Mademoiselle Krebs, daughter Of old Monsieur Krebs, the -German banker, who was so rich and who gave such splendid parties--had -asked Pauline Lunelle to become his wife, had "ah-bah-d" when she -talked about the difference in their positions, and had insisted that -in appearance and manner she was equal to any lady in the south of -France. So had Henrich Wetter, head clerk and cashier in the bank of -Monsieur Krebs aforesaid--a tall, fair, lymphatic young man, who until -his acquaintance with Pauline, had thought of nothing but Vaterland -and the first of exchange, but who professed himself ready to become -naturalised as a Frenchman, and to take up his abode for life in -Marseilles, if she would only listen to his suit. So had Frank -Jenkins, attached to the British post-office, and in that capacity -bringing the Indian mails from London to Marseilles, embarking them on -board the Peninsular and Oriental steamer, and waiting the arrival of -the return mail which carried them back to England--a big, jolly, -massive creature, well known to everybody in the town as Monsieur -Jenkins, or the "courrier anglais," who had a bedroom at the Hôtel de -Paradis, but who spent the whole of his time at the Restaurant du -Midi, drinking beer or brandy or absinthe--it was all the same to -him--to keep the landlord "square," as he phrased it, but never taking -his eyes off the dame du comptoir, and never losing an opportunity of -paying her the most outrageous compliments in the most outrageous -French ever heard even in that city of polyglot speech.</p> - -<p>If Pauline Lunelle had a tenderness for any of them, it was for the -sous-lieutenant; at the Englishman, and indeed at a great many -others--Frenchmen, commis-voyageurs, tradesmen in the city, or clerks -in the merchants' offices on the Quai--she laughed unmercifully; not -to their faces, indeed--that would have been bad for business, and -Pauline throughout her life had the keenest eye to her own benefit. -Her worth as a decoy-duck was so fully appreciated by Monsieur -Etienne, the proprietor of the restaurant, that she had insisted upon -receiving a commission on all moneys paid by those whose visits -thither were unquestionably due to her attraction. But when they had -retired for the night, the little top bedroom which she occupied in -conjunction with Mademoiselle Mathilde would ring with laughter, -caused by her repetition of the sweet things which had been said to -her during the evening by her admirers, and her imitations of the -manner and accents in which they had been delivered. So Adolphe de -Noailles had it all his own way, and Pauline had seriously debated -within herself whether she should not let him run the risk of -offending his family and marrying him out of hand (the disappointment -to be occasioned thereby to Mademoiselle Krebs, a haughty and -purse-proud young lady, being one of her keenest incentives to the -act), when another character appeared upon the scene.</p> - -<p>This was another Englishman, but in every way as different as possible -to poor Mr. Jenkins--not merely speaking French like a Parisian, but -salting his conversation with a vast amount of Parisian idiomatic -slang, full of fun and wild practical jokes, impervious to ridicule, -impossible to be put down, and spending his money in the most lavish -and free-handed manner possible. This was Tom Durham, who had suddenly -turned up in Marseilles, no one knew why. He had been to Malta, he -said, on a "venture," and the venture had turned out favourably, and -he was going back to England, and had determined to enjoy himself by -the way. He was constantly at the Restaurant du Midi, paid immense -attention to the dame du comptoir, and she in her turn was fascinated -by his good temper, his generous ways, his strange eccentric -goings-on. But Tom Durham, laughing, drinking, and spending his money, -was the same cool observant creature that he had been ever since he -shipped as 'prentice on board the Gloucestershire, when he was fifteen -years of age. All the time of his sojourn at the Restaurant du Midi he -was carefully "taking stock," as he called it, of Pauline Lunelle. In -his various schemes he had long felt the want of a female accomplice, -and he thought he had at last found the person whom he had for some -time been seeking. That she was worldly-wise he knew, or she would -never have achieved the position which she held in Monsieur Etienne's -establishment; that there was far more in her than she had ever yet -given proof of he believed; for Mr. Tom Durham was a strong believer -in physiognomy, and had more than once found the study of some use to -him. Sipping his lemonade-and-cognac and puffing at his cigar, he sat -night after night talking pleasantly with any chance acquaintance, but -inwardly studying Pauline Lunelle; and when his studies were -completed, he had made up his mind that he saw in her a wonderful -mixture of headstrong passion and calm common sense, unscrupulous, -fearless, devoted, and capable of carrying out anything, no matter -what, which she had once made up her mind to perform. "A tameable -tiger, in point of fact," said Tom Durham to himself as he stepped out -into the street and picked his way across the filthy gutters towards -his home; "and if only kept in proper subjection, capable of being -made anything of." He knew there was only one way by which Pauline -could be secured, and he made up his mind to propose to her the next -night.</p> - -<p>He proposed accordingly; but Pauline begged for four-and-twenty hours -to consider her decision, and in the early morning went out into the -Prado to think it all through, and deliberately to weigh the merits of -the propositions made respectively by Adolphe de Noailles and Tom -Durham; the result being that the sous-lieutenant's hopes were crushed -for ever--or for fully a fortnight, when they blossomed in another -direction--and that Pauline, dame du comptoir no longer, linked her -fate with that of Tom Durham. Thenceforward they were all in all to -each other. She had no relatives, nor, as he told her, had he. "I have -not seen Alice for five years," he said to himself; "and from what I -recollect of her, she was a stuck-up, straitlaced little minx, likely -to look down upon my young friend the tiger here, and give herself -airs which the tiger certainly would not understand; so, as they are -not likely to come together, it will be better to ignore her existence -altogether." In all his crooked schemes, and they were many and -various, Pauline took her share, unflagging, indefatigable, clear in -council, prompt in action, jealous of every word, of every look he -gave to any other woman; at the same time the slave of his love and -the prop and mainstay of his affairs. Tom Durham himself had not that -quality which he imputed to his half-sister; he certainly was not -strait-laced; but his escapades, if he had any, were carefully kept in -the background, and Pauline, suspicious as she was, had never felt any -real ground for jealousy until she had witnessed the scene at parting -at the Southampton station.</p> - -<p>The Prado and its associations had faded out of her mind, and she was -trying to picture to herself the various chances which could possibly -have detained her husband, when a porter halted before her, and -civilly touching his cap, asked for what train she was waiting.</p> - -<p>"The train for Weymouth," she replied.</p> - -<p>"For Weymouth!" echoed the porter; "the train for Weymouth has just -gone."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know that," said Pauline; "but I was expecting some -one--a gentleman--to meet me. He will probably come in time for the -next."</p> - -<p>"You will have a longish waiting bout," said the man; "next train -don't come till two-forty-five, nigh upon three o'clock."</p> - -<p>"That is long," said Pauline. "And the next?"</p> - -<p>"Only one more after that," said the porter--"eight forty--gets into -Weymouth somewhere between ten and eleven at night. You'll never think -of waiting here, ma'am, for either of them. Better go into the town to -one of the hotels, or have a row on the river, or something to pass -the time."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Pauline, to whom a sudden idea had occurred. "How far -is it from here to--how do you call the place--Hurstcastle?"</p> - -<p>"To where, ma'am? O, Hurst Castle. I didn't understand you, you see, -at first--you didn't make two words of it. It is Hurst Castle, where -the king was kept a prisoner--him as had his head cut off--and where -there's a barracks and a telegraph station for the ships now."</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, "exactly; that's the place. How far is it from here?"</p> - -<p>"Well, it's about seven mile, take it altogether; but you can't drive -all the way. You could have a fly to take you four miles, and he'd -bring you to a boat, and he'd take you in and out down a little river -through the marshes, until you came to a beach, on the other side of -which the castle stands. But, lor' bless me, miss, what's the use o' -going at all, there's nothing to see when you get there?"</p> - -<p>"I wish to go," said Pauline, smiling. "You see, I am a foreigner, and -I want to see where your British king was kept a prisoner. Can I get a -fly here?"</p> - -<p>The porter said he would find her one at once, and speedily redeemed -his promise.</p> - -<p>Through neat villages and wooded lanes Pauline was driven, until she -came to a large, bare, open tract of country, on the borders of which -the fly stopped, and the flyman descending, handed her down some steps -cut in the steep bank, and into an old broad-bottomed boat, where a -grizzled elderly man, with his son, were busy mending an old duck-gun. -They looked up with astonishment when the flyman said, "Lady wants to -go down to have a look at the castle, Jack. I'll wait here, ma'am, -until they bring you back."</p> - -<p>They spread an old jacket for her in the stern of the boat, and when -she was seated, took to their oars and pulled away with a will. It was -a narrow, intricate, winding course, a mere thread of shallow sluggish -water, twisting in and out among the great gray marshes fringed with -tall flapping weeds; and Pauline, already over-excited and -overwrought, was horribly depressed by the scene.</p> - -<p>"Are you always plying in this boat?" she asked the old man. -"Most days, ma'am, in case we should be wanted up at the steps there," -he replied; "but night's our best time, we reckon."</p> - -<p>"Night!" she echoed. "Surely there are no passengers at night-time?"</p> - -<p>"No, ma'am, not passengers, but officers and sportsmen: gentlemen -coming out gunning after the ducks and the wild-fowl," he added, -seeing she looked puzzled, and pointing to a flock of birds feeding at -some distance from them.</p> - -<p>"And are you out every night?" she asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Well, not every, but most nights, ma'am."</p> - -<p>"Last night, for example?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, miss, we was out, me and Harry here, not with any customers, but -by ourselves; a main dark night it was too; but we hadn't bad sport, -considering."</p> - -<p>"Did you--did you meet any one else between this and Hurst Castle?"</p> - -<p>"Well, no, ma'am," said the old man with a low chuckle. "It ain't a -place where one meets many people, I reckon. Besides the ducks, a -heron or two was about the strangest visitors we saw last night. Now, -miss, here we are at the beach; you go straight up there, and you'll -find the castle just the other side. When you come back, please shape -your course for that black stump you see sticking up there; tide's -falling, and we sha'n't be able to bide where we are now, but we will -meet you there."</p> - -<p>Lightly touching the old man's arm, Pauline jumped from the boat, and -rapidly ascending the sloping head, found herself, on gaining the top, -close by a one-storied, whitewashed cottage, in a little bit of -reclaimed land, half garden, half yard, in which was a man in his -shirt-sleeves washing vegetables, with a big black retriever dog lying -at his feet. Accosting him, Pauline learned that the house was the -telegraph station, whence the names of the outgoing and incoming ships -are telegraphed to Lloyd's for the information of their owners. In the -course of farther conversation the man said that the Masilia had -anchored there during the night, had got her steam up and was off by -daybreak; he took watch and watch with his comrade, and he turned out -just in time to see her start.</p> - -<p>Pauline thanked him and returned to the boat; but she did not speak to -the old man on her return passage; and when she reached the fly which -was waiting for her, she threw herself into a corner and remained -buried in thought until she was deposited at the station.</p> - -<p>A few minutes after, the train bound for Weymouth arrived. Through -confusion similar to that of the morning she hurried along, -criticising the passengers on the platform and in the carriage, and -with the same vain result. The train proceeded on its way, and Pauline -walked towards the hotel with the intention of getting some -refreshment, which she needed. Suddenly she paused, reeled, and would -have fallen, had she not leant against a wall for support. A thought -like an arrow had passed through her brain--a thought which found its -utterance in these words:</p> - -<p>"It is a trick, a vile trick from first to last! He has deceived -me--he never intended to meet me, to take me to Weymouth or to -Guernsey! It was merely a trick to keep me occupied and to put me off -while he rejoined that woman!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> -<h5>A LITTLE PARADISE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The place which Alice Claxton called her home, of which she was sole -mistress, and which she dearly loved, was situate at Hendon. An -old-fashioned, dreamy, by-gone kind of village, which, in these latter -days, the Midland Railway has discovered to be a metropolitan suburb, -and, as such, has brought it into vogue. Until within a very few -years, however, it was one of the quietest places in England, visited -occasionally in the summer by a few people from town, who found that -Hampstead had been already almost swallowed up in bricks and mortar, -and who extended their outing to get a little fresher air, and to -enjoy the lovely view from Hendon Church. But its inhabitants -generally were nothing-doing sort of people, bred and born in the -parish, who preferred vegetating on an income which enabled them to -keep a pony-chaise, and gave them perpetual leisure for pottering in -their gardens, rather than adventuring their little capital, in -speculations which might be disastrous, and which undoubtedly would be -questionable.</p> - -<p>The house where Alice Claxton lived was on the right-hand side of the -way as you turn from the little main street of the village towards the -church. There is no use in looking for it now; it has been pulled -down, and on its site have been erected two brand-new stucco villas, -with plate-glass windows and brass door-knockers, high flights of -door-steps with a stone pine-apple on either side, and long strips of -garden before and behind, which the landscape-gardener's art has -decorated with beds in the shape of pears, and hearts, and crosses, -and various other elegant and appropriate designs. But in Alice's days -it was a long, low-roofed, one-storied house, built of bricks of a -comfortable warm ruddiness, without being glaringly red, and covered -all over with a splendid Virginia creeper, which at this autumnal time -was just assuming its loveliest hue. The rooms on the ground-floor -were large, with rather low ceilings, and opening with French windows -on a little paved terrace verandah-covered. It had been John Claxton's -delight to suit the fittings and the furniture to the place for which -they were destined. No modern stoves were to be found throughout it, -but open fire-places inlaid with tiles, and iron dogs; the high-backed -chairs, the broad table, and the heavy sideboard of the dining-room, -were all in antique black oak; but in the drawing-room he had -endeavoured to consult what he conjectured to be his wife's fancy, and -the Venetian mirrors on the walls reflected the sheen of green silk -and gold, with which the low quaint chairs and sofa and ottoman were -covered, and produced endless repetitions of numerous tasteful -specimens of glass and china with which the various étagères and -whatnots were liberally covered. Alice, who before her marriage had -been governess to the children of a Quaker wine-merchant in York, -whose drab furniture had done good service during three generations, -clapped her hands in childish delight at the first glimpse of her new -home, and immediately afterwards turning round, reproved her husband -for his extravagance. But John Claxton, catching her in his arms, -declared that it was only a little nest just fitted for his bright, -shining, sweet little bird, and he earnestly prayed that she might be -happy in it.</p> - -<p>And she was happy; so happy that she sometimes felt her happiness was -too great to be lasting, and that some reverse of fortune must be in -store for her. But these flights of depression only happened when John -was away on his business tours, and then only during the first half of -his absence, for during the second she was busy in contemplating his -return, and in devising all kinds of little expedients to show how -welcome he was. See her now on this bright October evening, so neatly -and becomingly dressed in her tightly-fitting mouse-coloured velveteen -gown, fastened round the waist by a narrow black-leather belt and -buckle, with a linen collar round her pretty throat, and linen cuffs -showing off her small white hands. She had filled every available -ornament with the remnants of the summer garden produce, the last of -the monthly roses, and the scarlet geraniums and calceolarias, and the -earliest of the autumnal crop of dahlias, china-asters, and -chrysanthemums. The air was chill without, but within the light from -the wood logs flickered brightly on the plate and glass set on the -snowy tablecloth, in anticipation of dinner, and the odour of the -burning beech-wood was home-like and comforting. After giving a -finishing touch to her flowers in the drawing-room, and again peeping -into the dining-room to see that all was right and ready, Alice would -open the glazed door and peer out into the darkness, would bend her -head in eager listening for the sound of wheels entering the -carriage-drive. After two or three experiments her patience was -rewarded. First she heard the clanging of the closing gate, then the -sound of the rapidly approaching carriage, and the next minute she was -in her husband's arms.</p> - -<p>"Now come in, John, at once, out of that bitter wind," she cried, as -soon as she was released, which was not for a minute or two; "it is -enough to cut you in two. It has been sighing and moaning round the -house all day, and I am sure I was thankful that you were coining home -and hadn't to go any sea-voyages or other dreadful things."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, my darling, I am all right, I shall do very well now," -said John Claxton, in a chirping, cheery voice.</p> - -<p>Why had Tom Durham called him old? There was a round bald place on the -crown of his head to be sure, and such of his hair as remained and his -whiskers were streaked with gray; the lines round his eyes and mouth -were somewhat deeply graven, and the brow was heavy and thoughtful, -but his bright blue eyes were full of life and merriment, the tones of -his voice were blithe and musical, his slight wiry figure, though a -very little bowed and stooping, was as iron in its hardness; and when -away from business he was as full of animal spirits and fun as any -boy.</p> - -<p>"I am all right, my darling," he repeated, as, after taking off his -hat and coat, he went with her into the dining-room; "though I know it -is by no means prudent to stand in draughts, especially for people of -my age."</p> - -<p>"Now, John," cried Alice, with uplifted forefinger, "are you going to -begin that nonsense directly you come into the house? You know how -often I have told you that subject is tabooed, and yet you have -scarcely opened your lips before you mention it."</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear," said John Claxton, passing his arm round her and -drawing her closely to him, "you know I have an age as well as other -people, and a good deal more than a great many, I am sorry to say; -talking of it won't make it any worse, you know, Alley; though you may -argue that it won't make it any better."</p> - -<p>"Silence!" she cried, stopping his speech by placing her hand upon his -mouth. "I don't care whether it makes it better or worse, or whether -it doesn't make it anything at all; I only know I won't have it -mentioned here. Your age, indeed! What on earth should I do with you -if you were a dandy in a short jacket, with a little cane; or a great -hulking fellow in a tawny beard, such as one reads of in the novels?"</p> - -<p>"I have not the least idea, Alley; but I daresay you would manage to -spare some of your sweet love and kindness for me if I were either of -the specimens you have mentioned. As I am neither, perhaps you will -allow me to change my coat and wash my hands before dinner."</p> - -<p>"That you shall do. You will find everything ready for you; and as you -have had a long journey, and it is the first time of your return, I -insist on your availing yourself of the privilege which I gave you on -such occasions, and on your coming down in your shooting-coat and -slippers, and making yourself comfortable, John dear; and don't be -long, for we have your favourite dinner."</p> - -<p>When Mr. Claxton appeared in the dining-room, having changed his coat -for a velvet shooting-jacket, and his boots for a pair of embroidered -slippers, his wife's handiwork; having washed his hands and brushed-up -his hair, and given himself quite a festive appearance, he found the -soup already on he table.</p> - -<p>"You are late, as usual, John," cried Alice, as he seated himself.</p> - -<p>"I went to speak to Bell, dear," replied John Claxton; "but nurse -motioned to me that she was asleep; so I crept up as lightly as I -could to her little bedside, and bent down and kissed, her cheek. She -is quite well, I hope, dear, but her face looked a little flushed and -feverish."</p> - -<p>"There is nothing the matter with her, dear, beyond a little -over-excitement and fatigue. She has been with me all day, in the -greatest state of delight at the prospect of your return, helping me -to cut and arrange the flowers, to get out the wine, and go through -all the little household duties. I promised her she should sit up to -see her papa; but little fairies of three or four years of age have -not much stamina, and long before the time of your return she was -dropping with sleep."</p> - -<p>"Poor little pet! Sleep is more beneficial to her than the sight of me -would have been, though I have not forgotten to bring the doll and the -chocolate creams I promised her. However, the presentation of those -will do well enough to-morrow."</p> - -<p>The dinner was good, cosey, and delightful. They did not keep the -servant in the room to wait upon them, but helped themselves and each -other. When the cloth was removed, Alice drew her chair close to her -husband, and according to regular practice poured out for him his -first glass of wine.</p> - -<p>"Your own particular Madeira, John," she said; "the wine that your old -friend Mr. Calverley sent you when we were first married. By the way, -John, I have often wanted to ask you what you drink at the hotels and -the horrible places you go to when you are away--not Madeira, I am -certain."</p> - -<p>"No, dear, not Madeira," said John Claxton, fondly patting her cheek; -"wine, beer, grog--different things at different times."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but you never get anything so good as this, confess that?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing that I enjoy so much, certainly; whether it is the wine, or -the company in which the wine is drunk, I leave you to guess."</p> - -<p>"O, it is the wine, I am sure! there is no such other wine in the -world, unless Mr. Calverley has some himself. There now, talking -of Mr. Calverley reminds me that you never have asked about -Tom--about Tom, John--are you attending to what I say?"</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, dear," said John Claxton, looking upward with -rather a flushed face, and emptying his glass at a draught. "I confess -my thoughts were wandering towards a little matter of business which -had just flashed across me."</p> - -<p>"You must put aside all business when you come here; that was a rule -which I laid down at first, and I insist on its being adhered to. I -was telling you about Tom, my brother, you know."</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear, yes, I know--you went to Southampton to see him off."</p> - -<p>"Yes, John; that is to say, I went to Southampton and I saw him there, -but I did not actually see him off--that is, see him sail, you know."</p> - -<p>"Why, Alice, you went to Southampton for the express purpose!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, John, I know; but, you see, the trains did not suit, and Tom -thought I had better not wait; so I left him just an hour or two -before the steamer started."</p> - -<p>"I suppose he <i>did</i> go," said John Claxton anxiously; "there is no -doubt about that, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world, not the smallest doubt. To tell you the -truth, John, I was rather anxious about it myself, knowing that Tom -had the two thousand pounds which you sent him by me, you dear, kind, -good fellow, and that he is--well, perhaps not quite so reliable as he -might be--but I looked in the newspaper the next day, and saw his name -as agent to Calverley and Company among the list of outgoing -passengers."</p> - -<p>"Did he seem tolerably contented, Alice?"</p> - -<p>"O, yes, John; he went away in great spirits. I am in hopes that he -will settle down now, and become a steady and respectable member of -society. He has plenty of talent, I think, John, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Your brother has plenty of sharp, shrewd insight into character, and -knowledge of the wickedness of the world, Alice," said Mr. Claxton -somewhat bitterly; "these are not bad as stock-in-trade for a man of -his nature, and I have no doubt they will serve his turn."</p> - -<p>"Why, John," said Alice, with head upturned to look at him more -closely, "how cynically you are speaking! Are you not well, dear?"</p> - -<p>"Quite well, Alice. Why do you ask?"</p> - -<p>"Your face is rather flushed, dear, and there is a strange look in -your eyes, such as I have never noticed before. O, John! I am certain -you work too hard, and all this travelling is too much for you. When -will you give it up?"</p> - -<p>"When I see my way to settling down here in peace and comfort with -you, my darling, and little Bell. Depend upon it, when that -opportunity comes I shall grasp it eagerly enough."</p> - -<p>"And when will it come, John?"</p> - -<p>"That, my child, it is impossible to say; it may come sooner than we -expect; I hope it will, I'm sure. It is the one thing now, at the -close of my life, left me to look forward to."</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about the close of your life in that wicked way, John. I -am sure if you only take care of yourself when you are away on those -journeys, and mind that your bed is always aired, and see that you -have proper food, there is no question about the close of your life -until you have seen little Bell grown up into a marriageable young -woman."</p> - -<p>"Poor little Bell," said John Claxton, with a grave smile; "dear -little Bell. I don't think we did wrongly, Alice, in adopting this -little fatherless, motherless waif?"</p> - -<p>"Wrong, indeed! I should think not," said Alice quickly. "Even from a -selfish point of view it was one of the best things we ever did in our -lives. See what a companion she is to me while you are away; see how -the time which I have to spare after attending to the house, and my -garden, and my reading, and my music, and all those things which you -insist upon my doing, John, and which I really go through -conscientiously every day; see how the spare time, which might be -dull, is filled up in dressing her, and teaching her, and listening to -her sweet little prattle. Do you think we shall ever find out whose -child she was, John?"</p> - -<p>"No, dear, I should say not. You have the clothes which she had on, -and the little gold cross that was found round the mother's neck after -her death; it is as well to keep them in case any search should be -made after the child, though the probability of that is very remote."</p> - -<p>"We should not give Bell up, whatever search might be made, should we, -John?" said Alice quickly. "The poor mother is dead, and the search -could only originate with the father, and it is not likely that after -leaving the mother of his child to die in a workhouse bed, he will -have any long-deferred stings of conscience to make him inquire as to -what has become of her offspring. O, John when I think of the -wickedness that goes on in the world, through men, John, through men -alone--for women are but what men choose to make them--I am so -thankful that it was given to me to win the honest, noble love of an -honourable man, and to be removed in good time from the temptations -assailing a girl in the position which I occupied. Now, John, no more -wine!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he cried, "give it to me quickly, full, full to the brim, -Alice. There!" he said, as he drained it; "I am better now; I wanted -some extra stimulant to-night; I suppose I am knocked-up by my -journey."</p> - -<p>"Your face was as pale then as it was flushed before, John. I shall -take upon myself to nurse you; and you shall not leave home again -until you are quite recovered, whatever Mr. Calverley may say. You -should have him here, some day, John, and let me talk to him. I -warrant I would soon bring him round to my way of thinking."</p> - -<p>"Your ways are sufficiently coaxing to do that with anybody, Alice," -said John Claxton, with a faint smile; "but never mind Mr. Calverley -just now; what were we saying before?"</p> - -<p>"I was saying how pleased I was to be removed from the temptations to -which a girl in the position which I held is always exposed."</p> - -<p>"No," said Claxton, "I don't mean that--before."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes," said Alice, "I insist upon talking about these old times, -John; you never will, and I have no one else who knows anything about -them, or can discuss them with me. Now, do you recollect," she -continued, nestling closer to him, "the first time you saw me?"</p> - -<p>"Recollect it! As you were then, I can see you now."</p> - -<p>"And so can I you; you are not altered an atom. You were standing at a -bookstall in Low Ousegate, just beyond the bridge, looking into a -book; and as I passed by with the two little Prestons you raised your -eyes from the book, and stared at me so hard, and yet so gravely, that -I--"</p> - -<p>"That you were quite delighted," said John Claxton, putting his arm -round her; "you know that; so don't attempt a bashfulness which is -foreign to your nature, but confess at once."</p> - -<p>"I decline to confess any such thing," said Alice. "Of course I was in -the habit of being stared at by the officers and the young men of the -town. Come now, there is the return blow for your impertinent hit just -now; but one scarcely expects to create an impression on people whom -one finds glazing over bookstalls."</p> - -<p>"Elderly people, you should have said, Alice."</p> - -<p>"Elderly people, I will say, John, if it pleases you. Much less does -one expect to see them lay down the hook, and come sailing up the -street after one in direct pursuit."</p> - -<p>"O, you saw that, did you, miss? You never told me that before."</p> - -<p>"Saw it, of course I saw it; what woman ever misses anything of that -kind? At a distance you tracked me straight to Mr. Preston's door; saw -me and my little charges safely inside; and then turned on your heel -and walked away."</p> - -<p>"While you went up to your room and sat down before your glass, -admiring your own charms, and thinking of the dashing young cavalier -whose attention you had just attracted. Was that it?" said John.</p> - -<p>"Nothing of the sort; though I don't mind confessing that I did wonder -whether I should ever see you again. And then, two days after, when -Mrs. Preston told me to take the little girls into the drawing-room in -the evening, and to be sure that they practised thoroughly some piece -which they would be called upon to play, as there was a gentleman -coming to dinner who doated on little children, how could I have the -slightest idea that this benevolent Mr. Claxton was to be my friend of -the Low Ousegate bookstall? And yet you scarcely spoke to me once -during that evening, I remember."</p> - -<p>"That was my diplomacy, my child; but I paid great attention to Mrs. -Preston, and was very favourably received by her."</p> - -<p>"Yes; I heard Mr. Preston say to Mr. Arthur, as they stood behind the -piano, 'He's of the house of Calverley and Company of Mincing-lane. -Thee hast heard of it? Its transactions are enormous.'"</p> - -<p>"And I won Mr. Preston's heart by a good order for wine," said -John Claxton; "and then I threw off all disguise, and I am afraid -made it clear that I had only made his acquaintance for the sake -of paying court to his governess."</p> - -<p>"You need have very little delicacy in that matter, John," said Alice. -"Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Preston had the slightest interest in me, and -when I left they cared not what became of me. I suited them as a -governess, and they were angry when I first told them I was going -away; but when they saw that I had fully made up my mind, their sole -thought was how best to supply my place. As to what became of me, that -was no concern of theirs."</p> - -<p>"No," said John Claxton, whose colour had returned, and who seemed to -have regained his ordinary composure, "no concern perhaps of either Mr. -or Mrs. Preston; but what about the young gentleman you mentioned just -now, Alice--Mr. Preston's nephew, Mr. Arthur, as he was called? Your -decision as to the future course of life you intended to adopt was not -quite so immaterial to him, was it, child?"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, John?" said Alice, looking down, as the blood began -to mount into her cheeks.</p> - -<p>"You know well enough what I mean, child--exactly what I say. Mr. -Arthur Preston took great interest in you--was in love with you, in -point of fact. Is not that so?"</p> - -<p>"He said so, John; but his actions belied his words. No man who had -any real honest love--nay, more, I will go farther, and say respect, -for a girl--could have spoken or acted towards me as he did."</p> - -<p>"Why, Alice," said John Claxton, looking with surprise at her flushed -cheeks, "you never told me anything of this before. Why have you kept -it secret from me?"</p> - -<p>"Because I know, John," said Alice, laying her hand upon his shoulder, -"that, however outwardly calm and quiet you may appear to be, however -sensible and practical you are in most matters, you have a temper -which, when anything touching my honour or my dignity is involved, is -quite beyond your control. I have seen its effects before, John, and I -dreaded any repetition of them."</p> - -<p>"Then why do you tell me now?"</p> - -<p>"Because we are far away from York, John, and from Arthur Preston and -his friends, and there is no likelihood of our seeing any of them -again; so that I know your temper can be trusted safely now, John; -for, however much it may desire to break out, it will find no object -on which to vent itself."</p> - -<p>"This conversation and conduct, then, of Mr. Arthur Preston were -matters, I am to understand, in which your honour and dignity were -involved, Alice?"</p> - -<p>"To a certain extent, John, yes," faltered Alice.</p> - -<p>"I should like to know what they were," said John Claxton. "I put no -compulsion on you to tell me. I have never asked you since our -marriage to tell me anything of your previous life; but I confess I -should like to know about this."</p> - -<p>"I will tell you, John," said Alice; "I always intended to do so. It -is the only thing I have kept back from you; and often and often, -while you have been away, have I thought, if anything happened to you -or to me--if either of us were to die, I mean, John--how grieved I -should be that I had not told you of this matter. Arthur Preston -pretended he loved me; but he could not have done so really. No man -who is wicked and base can know what real love is, John; and Arthur -Preston was both. Some little time before I knew you, he made love to -me--fierce, violent love. I had not seen you then, John; I had -scarcely seen any one. I was an unsophisticated country girl, and I -judged of the reality of his love by the warmth of his professions, -and told him I would marry him. I shall never forget that scene. It -was one summer's evening, on the river bank just abreast of -Bishopthorpe. When I mentioned marriage he almost laughed, and then he -told me, in a cynical sneering way, that he never intended to be -married unless he could find some one with a large fortune, or with -peculiar means of extending his uncle's business when he inherited it; -but that meanwhile he would give me the prettiest house within twenty -miles. I need not go on. He would not make me his wife, but he offered -to make me his mistress. Was it not unmanly in him, John? Was it not -base and cowardly?"</p> - -<p>She stopped and looked at her husband. But John Claxton, whose face -had become pale again, his chin resting on his hand, and his eyes -glaring into the fire, made her no reply.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> -<h5>4A SAFE INVESTMENT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>"The second-floor front have come in, Ben," said Mrs. Mogg, of 19A -Poland-street, as she opened the door to her husband on a wet -and windy autumnal evening; "she have come and brought her -luggage--a green carpet-bag with a poll-parrot worked on it, and a -foreign-looking bandbox tied up in a handkerchief. She's French, Ben, -that's what she is."</p> - -<p>"Is she?" said Mr. Mogg shortly. "Well, I'm hungry, that's what I am; -so get me my tea."</p> - -<p>He had had a long and dirty walk home from the West-India Docks, where -he was employed as a warehouseman, and chattering in a windy passage -about his wife's lodger scarcely seemed to him the most desirable way -of employing his first moments at home.</p> - -<p>But after dispatching two large breakfast-cups of tea, and several -rounds Of hot salt-buttered toast, from which the crust had been -carefully cut away, Mr. Mogg was somewhat mollified, and wiping his -mouth and fingers on the dirty tablecloth, felt himself in cue to -resume the conversation.</p> - -<p>"O, the new second-floor has come, Martha, has she?" he commenced; "and -she's French, you think. Well," continued Mr. Mogg, who was naturally -rather slow in bringing his ideas into focus, "Dickson may or may not -be a French name. That it's an English one, we all know; but that's no -reason that it should not be a French one too, there being, as is well -known, several words which are the same in both languages."</p> - -<p>"She wrote down 'P. Dickson' when she came to take the rooms this -morning, and I see P. D. worked on her purse when she took it out to -pay the first week's rent in advance," said Mrs. Mogg.</p> - -<p>"Then it's clear enough her name is Dickson," said Mr. Mogg, with a -singular facility of reasoning. "What should you say she was, now, -Martha--you're good at reckoning 'em up, you are--what is the -second-floor front, should you say?"</p> - -<p>"Either a gov'ness or a lady's-maid out of place," said Mrs. Mogg -decisively. "I thought she was a gov'ness until I see the sovereigns in -her purse, and then made up my mind she was a lady's-maid as had given -up her place either through a death, or the family going abroad or -giving up housekeeping; and these were the sovereigns which she had -just got from the wardrobe-shop for the perquisites and etceteras -which she had brought away with her."</p> - -<p>"You're a clear-headed one, you are," said Mr. Mogg, looking at his -wife with great delight. "Has she had anything to eat?"</p> - -<p>"O yes," said Mrs. Mogg, giggling with some asperity; "she brought a -lettice in with her, I suppose; for when I went up to ask her whether -I should get-in any little trifle for breakfast, I found her eating of -it, and dropping some lumps of sugar into a tumbler of water."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's beastly," said Mr. Mogg. "These foreigners are disgusting -in their ways, one always heard; but how did you make her understand -you about breakfast?"</p> - -<p>"Lor' bless yer, man, she speaks English first-rate--so well, that -when I first see her, I thought she was a countrywoman of mine from -Norfolk."</p> -<br> - -<p>"Well, so long as she pays regularly, and don't stop out late at night, -it don't matter to us where she comes from," said Mr. Mogg, stretching -out his arms and indulging in a hearty yawn. "Now, Martha, get me my -pipe; and when you have cleared these things away, come and sit down, -and let's have a quiet talk about how we are to get rid of the German -teacher in the back attic."</p> - -<p>The newly-arrived tenant of the second floor, whom these worthies in -the kitchen were thus discussing, was walking up and down her room in -much the same manner as she had paced the platform at Lymington or the -Prado at Marseilles. It was very lucky that the occupant of the -drawing-room---a gentleman who taught noblemen and senators the art of -declamation--had not on that evening one of his usual classes, in -which budding orators were accustomed to deliver Mark Antony's speech -over the sofa-pillow transformed for the nonce into the dead body of -Caesar, and where, to encourage his pupils, the professor would set -forth that his name was Norval, and proceed to bewail the bucolic -disposition of his parent, or the grinding sound of the heels above -would have sadly interfered with the lesson. It was well that Pauline -was not interrupted; for the demon of rage and jealousy was at work -within her. The burning shame consequent on the belief that she had -been deceived and made a fool of nearly maddened her; and as every -phase of the deceit to which she now imagined she had fallen so ready -a victim rose before her mind, she clasped her arms above her head and -groaned aloud.</p> - -<p>"To think," she cried, "that I, who had known him so long and so -intimately--I, who had been his companion in his plottings and -intrigues, who had sat by, night after night and day after day, -watching the patience and skill with which he prepared the pitfalls -for others,--that I should be so blind, so weak, so besotted, as to -fall into them myself! Lies from the first, and lie upon lie! A lie to -the man Calverley, whose agent he pretended he would be; a lie to the -old man Claxton, who obtained the place for him, and sent him the -money by the pale-faced woman; then a lie to me,--a cleverer kind of -lie, a lie involving some tracasserie, for I am not one to be deceived -in the ordinary manner. To me he admitted he intended playing false -with the others; and now I am reckoned among those whom he has -hoodwinked and befooled!</p> - -<p>"The notion that came across me at that place! It must be true! He -never meant to come there; he sent me on a fool's errand, and he would -never be within miles of the spot. The whole thing was a trick, a -well-planned trick, from the first; well-planned, and so plausible -too! The flight to Weymouth, then to Guernsey; hours of departure of -trains and steamer all noted and arranged. What a cunning rogue! What -a long-headed plausible rascal! And the money, the two thousand pounds ---many would be deceived by that. He thought I would argue that if he -had intended to leave me, he never would have handed over to me those -bank-notes.</p> - -<p>"But I know him better. He is a vaurien, swindler, liar; but though I -suppose he never loved me in the way that other people understand -love, I have been useful to him, and he has become used to me; so -used, that he cannot bear to think of me in misery or want. So he gave -me the money to set his mind at ease, that my reproachful figure -should not rise between him and his new-found happiness. Does he think -that money can compensate me for the mental agony that I shall suffer -always, that I suffer now? Does he think that it will salve my wounded -pride, that it will do away with the misery and degradation I feel? -And having been cheated by a shallow artifice, will money deprive me -of my memory, and stop the current of my thoughts? Because I shall not -starve, can money bereave me of my fancies, or keep away mental -pictures it will drive me mad to contemplate? I can see them all now; -can see him with her; can hear the very phrases he will use, and can -imagine his manner when he talks of love to her. How short a time it -seems since I listened to those burning words from the same lips! How -well I remember each incident in the happy journey from Marseilles, -the pleasant days at Genoa, the long stay at Florence! Where has he -gone now, I wonder? To what haunt of luxury and ease has he taken his -new toy? Fool that I am to remain here dreaming and speculating, when -I want to know, when I must know! I must and will find out where they -are; and then quickness, energy, perseverance--he has praised them -more than once when they served him--shall be brought into play to -work his ruin."</p> - -<p>At this point in her train of thought Pauline was interrupted by a -knock at the door of her room. Starting at the sound, she raised her -head and listened eagerly; but whatever fancy she may have indulged in -as to the idea as to who might be her visitor, was speedily dispelled -by hearing the short sniff and the apologetic cough with which Mrs. -Mogg was wont to herald her arrival; and being bade to come in, that -worthy woman made her appearance, smiling graciously. It was Mrs. -Mogg's habit to fill up such leisure as her own normal labour and -active superintendence of the one domestic slave of the household, -known as "Melia," permitted her, in paying complimentary calls upon -her various lodgers, apparently with the view of looking after their -comforts and tendering her services, but really with the intention of -what she called "taking stock" of their circumstances, and making -herself acquainted with any peculiarities likely, in her idea, to -affect the question of her rent. Having thoroughly discussed with her -husband the possibility of getting rid of the German teacher, and it -being pleasantly arranged between them that the unfortunate linguist -was to be decoyed into the street at as early a period as possible on -the ensuing morning, and then and there locked out, his one miserable -little portmanteau being detained as a hostage, Mrs. Mogg was in -excellent spirits, and determined to make herself agreeable to her new -lodger.</p> - -<p>"Good evening, ma'am," she commenced; "time being getting late, and -this being your first night under our humble roof, I took the liberty -of looking in to see if things was comfortable, or there was anything -in the way of a Child's night-light or that, you might require."</p> - -<p>Almost wearied out with the weight of the wretched thoughts over -which, for the last forty-eight hours, she had been brooding, Pauline -felt the relief even of this interruption, and answered graciously -and with as much cheerfulness as she could assume. "The room was -comfortable," she said, "and there was nothing she required; but -would not madame sit down? She seemed to be always hard at work, and -must be tired after climbing those steep stairs. Perhaps she would not -object to a little refreshment?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Mogg's eyes gleamed as from her neat hand-bag Pauline produced a -small silver flask, and pouring some of its contents into a tumbler, -handed the water-bottle to her landlady, to mix for herself.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Mogg, seating herself on one of the two -rush-bottomed chairs, and smoothing her apron over her lap with both -her hands. "It is a pull up the stairs after one's been hard at it all -day, and a little drop of comfort like this does one no harm, whatever -they may say against it, more especially when it's like this, and not -the vitriol and mahogany-shavings which they sell by the quartern at -the Goldsmith's Arms. You didn't bring this from France with you, did -you, ma'm?"</p> - -<p>"O no," said Pauline, with a half smile. "It is a long time since I -left France."</p> - -<p>"Ah, so I should think," said Mrs. Mogg, "by your civilised ways of -going on, let alone your speaking our language so capital. Mogg, -meaning my husband, was in France once, at Boolong, with the -Foresters' excursion, and thought very high of the living he got -during the two hours he was there."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you have a husband," said Pauline, beginning to lapse into -dreariness.</p> - -<p>"O yes, ma'am, and as good a husband as woman could wish, a -hard-working man, and taking no holidays save with the Foresters to -the Crystal Palace, Easter Mondays, and suchlike. He's in the docks is -Mogg."</p> - -<p>"In the docks," said Pauline; "he would know, then, all about ships?"</p> - -<p>"O no, ma'am," said Mrs. Mogg, with a slight toss of the head; "that's -the Katherine's Docks you are thinking of where the General Steam goes -from. Hogg is in the West-Injia Docks: he's in the sale-room--horns -and hides, and other foreign produce."</p> - -<p>"Then he has nothing to do with ships?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing at all, ma'am. It would be easier work for him if he had, -though more outdoor work; but his is terrible hard work, more -especially on sale days. He's regular tired out to-night, poor man; -for to-day has been a sale day, and Mogg was at it from morning till -night, attending to Mr. Calverley's consignments."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Calverley!" cried Pauline, roused at last; "do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"O no, not I, ma'am," said the landlady, "only through hearing of him -from Mogg. He's one of the largest merchants in horns and hides is Mr. -Calverley, and there is never a shipload comes in but he takes most of -it. Mogg has done business for him--leastways for the house, for when -Mogg knew it first Mr. Calverley was only a clerk there--for the last -thirty years."</p> - -<p>"Is Mr. Calverley married?"</p> - -<p>"O yes, ma'am. He married Mrs. Gurwood, which was Miss Lorraine -before she married Mr. Gurwood, who killed himself with drink and -carryings-on. A pious lady, Mrs. Calverley, though haughty and -stand-offish, and, they do say, keeping Mr. C.'s nose to the -grindstone close."</p> - -<p>"And Mr. Calverley, what is he like?"</p> - -<p>"Not much to look at, ma'am, but the kindest and the best of men. My -nephew Joe is light-porter in their house; and the way in which Mr. -Calverley behaves to him--half-holiday here, half-a-crown there, -Christmas-boxes regular, and cold meat and beer whenever he goes up to -the house--no tongue can tell. Likewise most bountiful to Injuns and -foreigners of all kinds, Spaniards and that like, providing for -children and orphans, and getting them into hospitals, or giving them -money to go back to their own country."</p> - -<p>"Where is Mr. Calverley's address--his business address; his office I -mean?"</p> - -<p>"In Mincing-lane, in the City, ma'am. It's as well known as the Bank -of England, or the West-Injia Docks themselves. May I make so bold as -to inquire what you want with Mr. Calverley, ma'am?" said Mrs. Mogg, -whose curiosity, stimulated by the brandy-and-water, was fast getting -the better of her discretion; "if it's anything in the horn and hide -way," she added, as the notion of something to be made on commission -crossed her mind, "I am sure anything that Mogg could do he would be -most happy."</p> - -<p>"No, thank you," said Pauline coldly; "my inquiry had nothing to do -with business."</p> - -<p>And shortly after, Mrs. Mogg, seeing that her lodger had relapsed into -thought, and had replaced the silver flask in her hand-bag, took her -departure.</p> - -<p>"What that Frenchwoman can want with Mr. Calverley," said she to her -husband, after she had narrated to him the above conversation, "is more -than I can think; his name came up quite promiscuous, and she never -stopped talking about him while I was there. She'd have gone on -gossiping till now, but I had my work to do, and told her so, and came -away."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Mogg's curiosity was not responded to by her husband; a man -naturally reticent, and given in the interval between his supper and -his bed to silent pipe-smoking. "They're a rum lot, foreigners," he -said; and after that he spoke no more.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Pauline, left to herself, at once resumed the tiger-like -pacing of her room. "I must not lose sight," she said, "of any clue -which is likely to serve me. Where he is, she will be; and until I -have found them both, and made them feel what it is to attempt to play -the fool with me, I shall not rest satisfied. I must find means to -become acquainted with this Calverley; for sooner or later he must -hear something of Tom Durham, whom he believes to have gone to Ceylon -as his agent, and whose non-arrival there will of course be reported -to him. So long as my husband and the poor puny thing for whom he has -deserted me, can force money from the old man Claxton, they will do -so. But in whatever relations she may stand to him, when he discovers -her flight he will stop the supplies, and I should think Monsieur -Durham will probably turn up with some cleverly-concocted story to -account for his quitting the ship. They will learn that by telegraph -from Gibraltar, I suppose; and he will again seek for legitimate -employment. Meanwhile I have the satisfaction of striking him with his -own whip and stabbing him with his own dagger, by using the money -which he gave me to help me in my endeavours to hunt him down. The -money! It is there safe enough!"</p> - -<p>As she placed her hand within the bosom of her dress, a curious -expression, first of surprise, then of triumph, swept across her face. -"The letter!" she said, as she pulled it forth,--"the letter, almost -as important as the banknotes themselves, Tom Durham called it. It is -sealed! Shall I open it; but for what good? To find, perhaps, a -confession that he loves me no more, that he has taken this means to -end our connection, and that he has given me the money to make amends -for his betrayal of me--shall I-- Bah! doubtless it is another part of -the fraud, and contains nothing of any value."</p> - -<p>She broke the seal as she spoke, opened the envelope, and took out its -contents, a single sheet of paper, on which was written:</p> - -<p>"I have duly received the paper you sent me, and have placed it intact -in another envelope, marked 'Akhbar K,' which I have deposited in the -second drawer of my iron safe. Besides myself no one but my -confidential head-clerk knows even as much as this, and I am glad that -I declined to receive your confidence in the matter, as my very -ignorance may at some future time be of service to you, or--don't -think me harsh, but I have known you long enough to speak plainly to -you--may prevent my being compromised. The packet will be given up to -no one but yourself in person, or to some one who can describe the -indorsement, as proof that they are accredited by you. H.S."</p> -<br> - -<p>This letter Pauline read and re-read over carefully; then with a -shoulder-shrug returned it to its envelope, and replaced it in her -bosom.</p> - -<p>"Mysterious," she said, "and unsatisfactory, as is everything -connected with Monsieur Durham! The paper to which this letter refers -is of importance doubtless, but what it may contain, and who 'H. S.' -may be, are equally unknown to me; and without that information I am -helpless to make use of it. Let it remain there! A time may come when -t will be of service. Meanwhile I have the two thousand pounds to work -with, and Monsieur Calverley to work upon; he is the only link which I -can see at present to connect me with my fugitive husband. Through him -is the only means I have of obtaining any information as to the -whereabouts of this traitorous pair. The clue is slight enough, but it -may serve in default of a better, and I must set my wits to work to -make it useful."</p> - -<p>So the night went on; and the Mogg household, the proprietors -themselves in the back-kitchen; the circulating librarian in the -parlours; the Italian nobleman, who dealt in cameos an coral and -bric-a-brac jewelry, in the drawing-room; the Belgian basso, who -smoked such strong tobacco, and cleared his throat with such alarming -vehemence, in the second floor back; and the German teacher, in -ignorance of his intended forcible change of domicile, in the attic; -all these slept the sleep of the just, and snored the snores c the -weary; while Pauline, half undressed, lay on her bed, with eyes indeed -half closed, but with her brain active and at work. In the middle of -the night, warned by the rapid decrease of her candle that in a few -minutes she would be in darkness, she rose from the bed, and taking -from her carpet-bag a small neat blotting-book, she sat dowat the -table, and in a thin, clear, legible hand, to the practised eye -eminently suggestive of hotel bills, wrote the following letter:</p> -<br> - -<p>"19A <i>Poland-street, Soho</i>.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur,--As a Frenchwoman domiciled in England, the name of -Monsieur Calverley has become familiar to me as that of a -gentleman--ah, the true English word!--who is renowned as one of the -most constant and liberal benefactors to all kinds of charities for -distressed foreigners. Do not start, monsieur; do not turn aside or -put away this letter in the idea that you have already arrived exactly -at its meaning and intention. Naturally enough you think that the -writer is about to throw herself on your mercy, and to implore you for -money, or for admission into one of those asylums towards the support -of which you do so much. It is not so, monsieur; though, were my -circumstances different, it is to you I should apply, knowing that -your ear is never deaf to such complaint. I have no want of money, -though my soul is crushed; and I am well and strong in body, though my -heart is wounded and bleeding, calamities for which, even in England, -there are no hospitals nor doctors. Yet, monsieur, am I one of that -clientèle which you have so nobly made your own--the foreigners in -distress. Do you think that the only distressed foreigners are the -people who want to give lessons, or get orders for wine and cigars, -the poor governesses, the demoiselles de magasin, the émigrés of the -Republic and the Empire? No, there is another kind of distressed -foreigner,--the woman with a small sum, on which she must live for the -rest of her days, in penury if she manages ill, in decent thrift if -she manages well. Who will guide her? I am such a woman, monsieur. To -my own country, where I have lost all ties, and where remain to me but -sad memories, I will not return. In this land, where, if I have no -ties, yet have I no sad memories, I will remain. I have a small sum of -money, on the interest of which I must exist; and to you I apply, -monsieur; you, the merchant prince, the patron and benefactor of my -countrymen, to advise in the investment of this poor sum, and keep me -from the hands of charlatans and swindlers, who otherwise would rob me -of it. I await your gracious answer,</p> -<p style="text-indent:15%">"Monsieur; and am</p> -<p style="text-indent:25%">"Your servant,</p> -<p style="text-indent:30%">"PALMYRE DU TERTRE."</p> -<br> - -<p>The next morning Pauline conveyed this letter to the office in -Mincing-lane, and asked to see Mr. Calverley; but on being told by a -smart clerk that Mr. Calverley was out of town, visiting the iron -works in the North, and would not be back for some days, she left the -letter in the clerk's hands, and begged for an answer at his chief's -convenience.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> -<h5>IN THE CITY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The descriptions of the great house of Calverley and Company given -respectively by Mr. and Mrs. Calverley, though differing essentially -in many particulars, had each a substratum of truth. The house had -been founded half a century before by John Lorraine, the eldest son of -a broken-down but ancient family in the north of England, who in very -early years had been sent up to London to shift for himself, and -arriving there with the conventional half-crown in his pocket, was, of -course, destined to fame and fortune. Needless to say that, like so -many other merchant princes, heroes of history far more veracious than -this, his first experiences were those of struggling adversity. He -kept the books, he ran the errands, he fetched and carried for his -master--the old East-India agent in Great St. Helen's--and by his -intelligence and industry he commended himself to the good graces of -his superiors; and was not only able to maintain himself in a -respectable position, but to provide for his two younger brothers, who -were sipping from the fount of learning at the grammar-school of -Penrith. These junior scions being brought to town, and applying -themselves, not, indeed, with the same energy as their elder brother, -but with a passable amount of interest and care to the duties set -before them, were taken into partnership by John Lorraine when he went -into business for himself, and helped, in a certain degree, to -establish the fortunes of the house. Of these fortunes John Lorraine -was the mainspring and the principal producer. He had wonderful powers -of foresight; and uncommon shrewdness in estimating the chances of any -venture proposed to him; and with all these he was bold and lucky; -'far too bold,' his old employers said, with shaking heads, as they -saw him gradually but surely outstripping them in the race; 'far too -lucky,' his detractors growled, when they saw speculations, which had -been offered to them and promptly declined, prosper auriferously in -John Lorraine's hands.</p> - -<p>As soon as John Lorraine saw the tide of fortune strongly setting in, -he took to himself a wife, the daughter of one of his City friends, a -man of tolerable wealth and great experience, who in his early days -had befriended the struggling boy, and who thought his daughter could -not have achieved higher honour or greater happiness. Whatever honour -or happiness may have accrued to the young lady on her marriage did -not last long, for, shortly after giving birth to her first child, a -daughter, she died; and thenceforward John Lorraine devoted his life -to the little girl, and to the increased fortune which she was to -inherit. When little Jane had arrived at a more than marriageable age, -and from a pretty fubsy baby had grown into a thin, acidulated, -opiniated woman (a result attributable to the manner in which she had -been spoiled by her indulgent father), John Lorraine's mind was mainly -exercised as to what manner of man would propose for her with a -likelihood of success. Hitherto, love-affairs had been things almost -unknown to his Jane, not from any unwillingness on her part to make -their acquaintance, but principally because, notwithstanding the -fortune which it was known she would bring to her husband, none of the -few young men who from time to time dined solemnly in the -old-fashioned house in Brunswick-square, or acted as cavalier to its -mistress to the Antient Concerts, or the King's Theatre, could make up -their minds to address her in anything but the most common phrases. -That Miss Jane had a will of her own, and a tart manner of expressing -her intention of having that will fulfilled, was also matter of common -gossip. Stories were current among the clerks at Mincing-lane of the -"wigging" which they had heard her administering to her father, when -she drove down to fetch him away in her chariot, and when he kept her -unduly waiting; the household servants in Brunswick-square had their -opinion of Miss Jane's temper; and the tradesmen in the neighbourhood -looked forward to the entrance of her thin, dark figure into their -shops every Tuesday morning, for the performance of settling the -books, with fear and trembling.</p> - -<p>Old John Lorraine, fully appreciating his daughter's infirmities, -though, partly from affection, partly from fear, he never took upon -himself to rebuke them, began to think that the fairy prince who was -to wake this morally slumbering virgin to a sense of something better, -to larger views and higher aims, to domestic happiness and married -bliss, would never arrive. He came at last, however, in the person of -George Gurwood; a big, broad-shouldered, jovial fellow, who, as a son -of another of Lorraine's early friends, had some time previously been -admitted as a partner into the house. Everybody liked good-looking, -jolly George Gurwood. Lambton Lorraine and Lowther Lorraine, who, -though now growing elderly men, had retained their bachelor tastes and -habits, and managed to get through a great portion of the income -accruing to them from the business, were delighted with his jovial -manners, his sporting tendencies, his convivial predilections. When -the fact of George's paying his addresses to their niece was first -promulgated, Lambton had a serious talk with his genial partner, -warning him against tying himself for life to a woman with whom he had -no single feeling in common. But George laughed at the caution, and -declined to be guided by it. "Miss Lorraine was not much in his line," -he said; "perhaps a little given to tea and psalm-smiting; but it would -come all right: he should get her into a different way; and as the -dear old guv'nor" (by which title George always affectionately spoke -of his senior partner) "seemed to wish it he was not going to stand in -the way. He wanted a home, and Jane should make him a jolly one, he'd -take care of that."</p> - -<p>Jane Lorraine married George Gurwood, but she did not make him a home. -Her rigid bearing and unyielding temper were too strong for his -plastic, pliable nature; for many months the struggle for mastery was -carried on between them, but in the end George--jolly George no -longer--gave way. He had made a tolerably good fight of it, and had -used every means in his power to induce her to be less bitter, less -furtive, less inexorable in the matter of his dinings-out, his -sporting transactions, his constant desire to see his table surrounded -by congenial company. "I have tried to gentle her," he said to Lowther -Lorraine one day, "as I would a horse, and there has never been one of -them yet that I could not coax and pet into good temper; I'd spend any -amount of money on her, and let her have her own way in most things if -she would only just let me have mine in a few. I have tried her with a -sharp bit and a pair of 'persuaders,' but that was no more use than -the gentling. She's as hard as nails, Lowther, my boy, and I don't see -my way out of it, that's the truth. So come along and have a B and S."</p> - -<p>If having a B and S--George's abbreviation for soda-water and -brandy--would have helped him to see his way out of his difficulties, -he would speedily have been able to perceive it, for thenceforward his -consumption of that and many other kinds of liquids was enormous. -Wretched in his home, George Gurwood took to drinking to drown care, -but, as in most similar cases, the demon proved himself far too -buoyant to be overwhelmed even by the amount which George poured upon -him. He was drinking morning, noon, and night, and was generally in a -more or less muddled state. When he went to business, which was now -very seldom, some of the clerks in the office laughed at him, which -was bad enough, while others pitied him, which was worse. The story of -George's dissipation was carefully kept from John Lorraine, who had -virtually retired from the business, and devoted himself to nursing -his rheumatism, and to superintending the education of his grandson, a -fine boy of five or six years of age; but Lambton and Lowther held -many colloquies together, the end of them all being that they agreed -they could not tell what was to be done with George Gurwood. What was -to be done with him was soon settled by George Gurwood himself. Even -his powerful constitution had been unable to withstand the ravages -which constant drinking had inflicted upon it. He was seized with an -attack of delirium tremens while attending a race-meeting at Warwick, -and during the temporary absence of the night-nurse jolly George -Gurwood terminated his earthly career by jumping from the bedroom -window of the hotel into the yard below.</p> - -<p>Then it was that the investigation of the affairs of the firm, -consequent upon the death of one of the partners, revealed the serious -state in which matters stood. All the name and fame, the large -fortune, the enormous colonial business, the commercial credit which -John Lorraine had spent his life in building up, had been gradually -crumbling away. Two years more of this decadence, such as the perusal -of the firm's books exhibited had taken place during the last ten -years, and the great house of Lorraine Brothers would be in the -Bankruptcy Court. Then it was that Mr. Calverley, hitherto known only -as a plodding reliable head-clerk, thoroughly conversant with all -details of business, but never having shown any peculiar capabilities, -came forward and made his mark. At the meeting of the creditors he -expounded his views so lucidly, and showed so plainly how, by -reorganising the business in every department, it could once more be -put on a safe and proper footing, and reinstated in its old position -as one of the leading houses in the City, that the helm was at once -put into his hands. So safely and so prosperously did he steer the -ship, that, before old John Lorraine died, he saw the business in -Mincing-lane, though no longer conducted under its old name (Mr. -Calverley had made a point of that, and had insisted on claiming -whatever was due to his ability and exertions), more flourishing than -in its best days; while Lambton and Lowther, who had been paid out at -the reorganisation of affairs, and had thought themselves very lucky -at escaping being sucked-in by the expected whirlpool, were disgusted -at the triumphant results of the operations of a man by whom they -had set so little store, and complained indignantly of their -ill-treatment.</p> - -<p>And then John Calverley, who, as one of the necessities involved in -carrying out his business transactions, had been frequently brought -into communication with the widowed Mrs. Gurwood, first conceived the -idea of making her an offer of marriage. Nearly forty years of his -life had been spent in a state of bachelorhood, though he had not been -without the comforts of a home. He was thoroughly domesticated by -nature, simple in his tastes, shy and shrinking from society, and so -engrossed by his unceasing labour during the day, that it was his -happiness at night to put aside from his mind everything relating, -however remotely, to his City toil, and to sit drinking his tea, and -placidly chatting, reading, or listening to his old mother, from whom -since his childhood he had never been separated. The first great grief -of John Calverley's life, the death of this old lady, took place very -shortly after he had assumed the reins of government in Mincing-lane -and since then his home had been dull and cheerless. He sorely felt -the want of a companion, but he knew nobody whom he could ask to share -his lot. He had but rare opportunities of making the acquaintance of -any ladies, but Mrs. Gurwood had been thrown in his way by chance, -and, after some little hesitation, he ventured to propose to her. The -proposition was not disagreeable to Jane Gurwood. For some time past -she had felt the loss of some constantly present object on which to -vent her bile; her tongue and her temper were both becoming rusty by -disuse; and in the meek, pleasant little man, now rich and well-to-do, -she thought she saw a very fitting recipient for both. So John -Calverley and Jane Gurwood were married, with what result we have -already seen.</p> - -<p>The offices in Mincing-lane remained pretty much in the same state as -they had been in old John Lorraine's day. They had been painted, of -course, many times since he first entered upon their occupation, but -in the heart of the City the brilliancy of paint does not last very -long, and in a very few months after the ladders and the scaffoldings -had been removed, the outside woodwork relapsed into its state of -grubbiness. There was a talk at one time of making some additions to -the building, to provide accommodation for the increased staff of -clerks which it had been found necessary to engage; but Mr. Calverley -thought that the rooms originally occupied by Lambton and Lowther -Lorraine would do very well for the newly-appointed young gentlemen, -and there accordingly they set up their high desks and stools, their -enormous ledgers and day-books. The elderly men, who had been John -Lorraine's colleagues and subordinates in bygone days, still remained -attached to the business; but their employer, not unmindful of the -good services they had rendered, and conscious, perhaps, that without -their aid he might have had some difficulty in carrying out his -reorganisation so successfully, took means to lighten their duties and -to place them rather in the position of overseers and superintendents, -leaving the grinding desk-work to be performed by their juniors. Of -these young gentlemen there were several. They inhabited the lower -floor of the warehouse, and the most presentable of them were told-off -to see any stray customers that might enter. The ships' captains, the -brokers, and the consignees, knew their way about the premises, and -passed in and out unheeded; but occasionally strangers arrived with -letters of introduction, or foreign merchants put in a fantastic -appearance, and for the benefit of these there was a small glazed -waiting-room set apart, with one or other of the presentable clerks to -attend to them.</p> - -<p>About a fortnight after Pauline's first visit, about the middle of the -day, Mr. Walker, one of the clerks, entered the large office and -proceeded to hang up his hat and to doff his coat, preparatory to -putting on a sporting-looking garment made of shepherd's-plaid, with -extremely short tails, and liberally garnished with ink-spots. Judging -from his placid, satisfied appearance, and from the fact that he -carried a toothpick between his lips, which he was elegantly chewing, -one might have guessed without fear of contradiction, that Mr. Walker -had just returned from dinner.</p> - -<p>"You shouldn't hurry yourself in this way, Postman, you really -shouldn't," said Mr. Briscoe, one of the presentable clerks -aforenamed. "You will spoil your digestion if you do; and fancy what a -calamity that would be to a man of your figure. You have only been out -an hour and a quarter, and I understand they have sent round from -Lake's to Newgate Market for some more joints."</p> - -<p>"Don't you be funny, William," said Mr. Walker, wiping his lips, and -slowly climbing on to his stool; "it isn't in your line, and you might -hurt yourself."</p> - -<p>"Hurt myself!" echoed Mr. Briscoe. "I will hurt you, and spoil your -appetite too, when I get the chance, keeping a fellow hanging on here, -waiting for his luncheon, while you are gorging yourself to repletion -for one and ninepence. Only you wait till next week, when it's my turn -to go out at one, and you will see what a twist I'll give you. -However, one comfort is, I'm off at last." And Mr. Briscoe jumped from -his seat, and proceeded towards the hat-pegs.</p> - -<p>"No, you're not," said Mr. Walker, who had commenced a light dessert -on a half-hundred of walnuts, which he had purchased at a stall on his -way; "there's a party just come into the private office, William, and -as you're picked out for that berth on account of your beauty and -superior manners, you will have to attend to her. A female party, do -you hear, William; so, brush your hair, and pull down your wristbands, -and make a swell of yourself."</p> - -<p>Mr. Briscoe looked with great disgust towards the partition through -the dulled glass, on which he saw the outline of a female figure; -then, stepping across, he opened a pane in the glass, and inquired -what was wanted.</p> - -<p>"I called here some time ago," said Pauline, for it was she, "and left -a letter for Mr. Calverley. I was told he was out of town, but would -return in a few days. Perhaps he is now here?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Calverley has returned," said Mr. Briscoe, in his most -fascinating manner, a compound of the familiarity with which he -addressed the waitresses in the eating-houses and the nonchalance with -which he regarded the duchesses in the Park. "I believe he is engaged -just now, but I will let him know you are here. What name shall I -say?"</p> - -<p>"Say Madame Du Tertre, if you please," said Pauline; "and mention that -he has already had a letter from me."</p> - -<p>Mr. Briscoe bowed, and delivered his message through a speaking-tube -which communicated with Mr. Calverley's room. In reply he was -instructed to bring the lady upstairs; and bidding Pauline follow him, -he at once introduced her into the presence of his chief.</p> - -<p>As his visitor entered, Mr. Calverley rose from the desk at which he -was seated, and graciously motioned her to a chair, looking hard at -her from under his light eyebrows meanwhile.</p> - -<p>Pauline was the first to speak. After she had seated herself, and Mr. -Calverley had resumed his place at his desk, she leaned forward and -said, "I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Calverley?"</p> - -<p>"That is my name," said John, with a bow and a pleasant smile. "In -what way can I have the pleasure of being of service to you?"</p> - -<p>"You speak kindly, Mr. Calverley, and your appearance is just what I -had expected. You received a letter from me--a strange letter you -thought it; is it not so?"</p> - -<p>"Well," said John, "it was not the sort of letter I have been in the -habit of receiving; it was not strictly a business kind of letter, you -know."</p> - -<p>"It was not addressed to you in your strictly business capacity, Mr. -Calverley; it was written from the heart, a thing which does not often -enter into business matters, I believe. It was written because I have -heard of you as a man of benevolence and charity, interested in the -fate of foreigners and exiles, able, if willing, to do what I wish."</p> - -<p>"My dear madam," said John Calverley, "I fear you much exaggerate any -good qualities I may possess. The very nature of my business throws me -into constant communication with people from other countries, and if -they are unfortunate I endeavour to help them to the best of my power. -Such power is limited to the giving away of small sums of money, and -helping them to return to their native country, to getting them -employment if they desire to remain here, or recommending them to -hospitals if they are ill; but yours is a peculiar case, if I -recollect your letter rightly. I have it here, and can refer to it--"</p> - -<p>"There is no occasion to do that. I can explain more fully and more -promptly by word of mouth. Mine is, as you say, a peculiar case. I am -the daughter of a retired officer of artillery, who lived at Lyons. At -his death I married Monsieur Du Tertre, who was engaged as a traveller -for one of the large silk factories there. He was frequently coming to -England, and spoke the language well. He taught it to me, and I, to -aid an income which was but small, taught it again to several pupils -in my native city. My husband, like most Frenchmen of his class, took -a vivid interest in politics, and was mixed up in several of the more -prominent Republican societies. One day, immediately after his return -from a foreign journey, he was arrested, and since then, save on the -day of his trial. I have not set eyes upon him. I know not where he -is; he may be in the cachots of Mont Saint Michele; he may be kept au -secret in the Conciergerie; he may be exiled to Cayenne--I know not. -All I know is, I shall never see him again. 'Avec ces gens-là il faut -en finir,' was all the reply I could get to my inquiries--they must be -finished, done with, stamped out, what you will. There," continued -Pauline, brushing her eyes with her handkerchief, "it is not often that -I give way, monsieur; my life is too stern and too hard for that. -After he was taken from me I could remain in Lyons no longer. It is -not alone upon the heads of families that the Imperial Government -revenges itself; so I came away to England, bringing with me all that -I had saved, all that I could scrape together, after selling -everything we possessed, and the result is that I have, monsieur, a -sum of two thousand pounds, which I wish to place in your hands, -begging you to invest it in such a manner as will enable me to live -honestly, and with something like decency, for the remainder of my -days."</p> - -<p>John Calverley had listened to this recital with great attention, and -when Pauline ceased speaking, he said to her with a half-grave smile:</p> - -<p>"The remainder of your days, madam, is likely, I hope, to be a -tolerably long period; for you are evidently quite a young woman. -Now, with regard to your proposition, you yourself say it is -unbusiness-like, and I must confess it strikes me as being so in the -highest degree. You know nothing of me, beyond seeing my name as a -subscriber to certain charities, or having heard it mentioned as that -of a man who takes some interest in assisting foreigners in distress; -and yet you offer to place in my hands what constitutes your entire -fortune, and intrust me with the disposal of it. I really do not -think," said John Calverley, hesitating, "I can possibly undertake--"</p> - -<p>"One moment, Mr. Calverley," said Pauline. "The responsibility of -declining to take this money will be far greater than of accepting it; -for if you decline to act for me, I will consult no one else; I will -act on my own impulse, and shall probably either invest the sum in -some swindling company, or squander and spend it."</p> - -<p>"You must not do that," said John promptly; "you must not think of -doing that. Two thousand pounds is not a very large sum of money; but -properly invested, a lady without encumbrance," said John, with a dim -recollection of the formula of servants' advertisements, "might live -very comfortably on the interest, more especially if she had no home -to keep up."</p> - -<p>"But, monsieur, I must always have a home, a lodging, a something to -live in," said Pauline with a shrug.</p> - -<p>"Yes, of course," said John Calverley, rather absently; for at that -moment a notable plan had suggested itself to him, and he was -revolving it in his mind. "Where are you living now, Madame Du -Tertre?"</p> - -<p>"I have a lodging--a bed-room--in Poland-street," she replied.</p> - -<p>"Dear me," said John Calverley, in horrified amazement. -"Poland-street? I know, of course; back of the Pantheon--very stuffy -and grimy, children playing battledore and shuttlecock in the street, -organ-men and fish-barrows, and all that kind of thing; not at all -pleasant."</p> - -<p>"No," said Pauline, with a repetition of her shrug; "but beggars have -no choice, as the proverb says."</p> - -<p>"Did it ever occur to you," said John nervously, "that you might become -a companion to a lady--quite comfortable, you know, and well treated, -made one of the family, in point of fact?" he added, again recurring -to the advertisement formula.</p> - -<p>Pauline's eyes glistened at once, but her voice was quite calm as she -said: "I have never thought of such a thing. I don't know whether I -should like it. It would, of course, depend upon the family."</p> - -<p>"Of course," assented John. "I was thinking of-- Do you play the -piano, Madame Du Tertre?"</p> - -<p>"O yes, sufficiently well."</p> - -<p>"Ah," said John unconsciously, "some of it does go a long way. Well, I -was thinking that perhaps--"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Calverley, sir," said Mr. Briscoe, throwing open the door.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Calverley walked into the room, looking so stern and defiant that -her husband saw he must take immediate action to prevent the outbreak -of a storm. Since that evening in Great Walpole-street, when John -Calverley had plucked up his spirit, and ventured to assert himself, -his wife, though cold and grim as ever, had kept more outward control -over her temper, and had almost ceased to give vent to the virulent -raillery in which she formerly indulged. Like most despots she had -been paralysed when her meek slave rebelled against her tyranny, and -had stood in perpetual fear of him ever since.</p> - -<p>"You come at a very opportune moment, Jane," said John Calverley.</p> - -<p>"It scarcely seems so," said his wife, from between her closed lips. -"I was afraid I might be regarded as an unpleasant interruption to a -private interview."</p> - -<p>"It is I, madam," said Pauline, rising, "who am the interrupter here. -My business with Mr. Calverley is ended, and I will now retire."</p> - -<p>"Pray stay, Madame Du Tertre," said John, motioning her again to her -chair.--"This lady, Jane, is Madame Du Tertre, a foreigner and a -stranger in England."</p> - -<p>"But not a stranger to the history of Madame Calverley," said Pauline, -rising gracefully; "not a stranger to the beneficence, the charities, -the piety of Mademoiselle Lorraine; not a stranger," she added, in a -lower tone, "to the sainted sufferings of Madame Gurwood. Ah, madame, -though I have been but a very short time in this great city of London, -I have heard of you, of your religion, and your goodness, and I am -honoured in the opportunity of being able to kiss your hand." And -suiting the action to the word, Pauline took Jane Calverley's -plum-coloured gauntlet into her own neatly-gloved palm and pressed it -to her lips.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Calverley was so taken aback at this performance, that, beyond -muttering "not worthy" and "too generous," she said nothing. But her -husband marked the faint blush of satisfaction which spread over her -clay-coloured complexion, and took advantage of the impression made to -say:</p> - -<p>"Madame Du Tertre, my dear Jane, is a French lady, a widow with a -small fortune, which she wishes me to invest for her in the best way -possible. In the mean time she is a stranger here in London, as I said -before, and she has no comfortable lodging and no friends. I thought -perhaps that, as I am compelled by business to be frequently absent -from home, and am likely to continue to be so, it might break the -loneliness of your life if Madame Du Tertre, who speaks our language -well, and plays the piano, and is no doubt generally accomplished, -might come as your visitor for a short time, and then if you found you -suited each other, one might make some more permanent arrangement."</p> - -<p>When Jane Calverley first entered the room and saw a lady gossipping -with her husband, she thought she had discovered the means of bringing -him to shame, and making his life a burden to him. Now in his visitor -she saw, as she thought, a woman possessing qualities such as she -admired, but for which she never gave her husband credit, and one who -might render her efficient aid in her life's campaign against him. -Even if what had been told her were false, and that this woman were an -old friend of his, as a visitor in Great Walpole-street Mrs. Calverley -would have her under her own eye, and she believed sufficiently in her -own powers of penetration to enable her to judge of the relations -between them. So that, after a little more talk, the visit was -determined on, and it was arranged that the next day Madame Du Tertre -should remove to her new quarters.</p> - -<p>"And now," said Pauline, as she knocked at Mr. Mogg's door, whither -the Calverley's carriage had brought her, "and now, Monsieur Tom -Durham, <i>gare à vous!</i> for this day I have laid the beginning of the -train which, sooner or later, shall blow your newly-built castle of -happiness into the air!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE VICAR OF LULLINGTON.</h5> -<br> -<p>Jolly George Gurwood's only child, tie little boy whom his -grandfather, old John Lorraine, made so much of during the latter -years of his life, after having been educated at Marlborough and -Oxford, was admitted into holy orders, and, at the time of our story, -was Vicar of Lullington, a rural parish, about one hundred and twenty -miles from London, on the great Northern road. A pleasant place -Lullington for a lazy man. A quiet, sleepy little village of half a -hundred houses, scattered here and there, with a chirpy little brook -singing its way through what was supposed the the principal street, -and hurrying onwards though great broad tracts of green pasturage, -where in the summer time the red-brown cattle drank of it, and cooled -their heated limbs in its refreshing tide, until it was finally -swallowed up in the silver Trent.</p> - -<p>Lullington Church was not a particularly picturesque edifice, for it -resembled a large barn, with a square, weather-beaten tower at one end -of it; nor was the churchyard at all likely to be provocative of an -elegy, or of anything but rheumatism, being a damp, dreary little -spot, with most of its tombstones covered with green moss, and with a -public footpath, with a stile at either end, running through the -middle of it. But to the artists wandering through that part of the -country (they were not numerous, for Notts and Lincoln have not much -to offer to the sketcher), the vicarage made up for the shortcomings -of the church. It was a square, old-fashioned, red-bricked house, -standing in the midst of a garden full of greenery; and whereas the -church looked time-worn and cold, and had even on the brightest summer -day, a teeth-chattering, gruesome appearance, the vicarage had a -jolly cheerful expression, and when the sun gleamed on its little -diamond-shaped windows, with their leaden casements, you were -inexplicably reminded of a red-faced, genial old gentleman, whose eyes -were twinkling in delight at some funny story which he had just heard.</p> - -<p>It was just the home for a middle-aged man with a wife and family; for -it had a large number of rooms of all kinds and shapes, square -bed-chambers, triangular nooks, long passages, large attics, wherein -was accommodation for half-a-dozen servants, and ramshackle stables, -where as many horses could be stowed away. It was just the house for a -man of large means, who would not object to devoting a certain -portion of his leisure to his parochial duties, but whose principal -occupation would be in his garden or his greenhouses. Such a man was -Martin Gurwood's predecessor, who had held the living for fifty years, -and had seen some half-score boys and girls issue from the vicarage -into the world to marry and settle themselves in various ways of life. -The Reverend Anthony Camden was known as a rose-grower throughout -three adjoining counties, and had even obtained special prizes at -Crystal-Palace and Botanical-Garden shows. He was a bit of a fisherman -too, and had been in his younger days something of a shot. Not being -much of a reader, except of the <i>Field</i> and the <i>Gardeners' -Chronicle</i>, he would have found the winter evenings dull, had it not -been for the excitement of perpetually re-arranging his large -collection of moths and butterflies, renewing their corks and pins, -and putting fresh pieces of camphor into the corners of the glazed -drawers which contained them. Mr. Camden knew all about crops and -manure, and sub-soiling and drainage; the farmers for miles round used -to come to the vicarage to consult him, and he always gave them beer -and advice both of the best quality. He played long-whist and preached -short sermons; and when he died in a green old age, it was universally -voted in Lullington and its neighbourhood, that it would be impossible -to replace him.</p> - -<p>Certainly, there could not have been a more marked contrast than -between him and his successor. Martin Gurwood was a man of -six-and-twenty, unmarried, with apparently no thought in life beyond -his sacred calling and the duties appertaining to it. Only half the -rooms in the vicarage were furnished; and, except on such rare -occasions as his mother or some of his friends coming to stay with -him, only two of them on the ground-floor, one the vicar's study, the -other his bed-chamber, were used. The persistent entreaties of his old -housekeeper had induced him to relent from his original intention of -allowing the garden to go to rack and ruin, and it was accordingly -handed over to the sexton, who in so small a community had but little -work in his own particular line, and who kept up the old-fashioned -flowers and the smooth-shaven lawns in which their late owner had so -much delighted. But Martin Gurwood took no interest in the garden -himself, and only entered it occasionally of an evening, when he would -stroll up and down the lawn, or one of the gravel walks, with his -head bent forward and his hands clasped behind him, deep in -meditation. He kept a horse, certainly--a powerful big-boned Irish -hunter--but he only rode her by fits and starts, sometimes leaving her -in the stable for weeks together, dependent on such exercise as she -could obtain in the spare moments of her groom, at other times -persistently riding her day after day, no matter what might be the -weather. On those occasions the vicar did not merely go out for a mild -constitutional, to potter round the outskirts of his parish, or to -trot over to the market-town; he was out for hours at a stretch, and -generally brought the mare home heated and foam-flecked. Indeed, more -than one of his parishioners had seen their spiritual guide riding -across country, solitary indeed, but straight, as though he were -marking out the line for a steeple-chase, stopping neither for hedge, -bank, nor brook, the Irish mare flying all in her stride, her rider -sitting with his hands down on her withers, his lips compressed, and -his face deadly pale. "Tekkin it out of hisself, mebbe," said Farmer -Barford, when his son described to him this sight which he had seen -that afternoon; "for all he's so close, and so meek and religious, -there's a spice of the devil in him as in every other man; and, Bill, -my boy, that's the way he takes it out of hisself." Thus Farmer -Barford, and to this effect spoke several of the parishioners in -committee assembled over their pipes and beer at the Dun Cow.</p> - -<p>They did not hint anything of the kind to the vicar himself, trust -them for that! Martin Gurwood could not be called popular amongst the -community in which his lot was cast; he was charitable to a degree, -lavish with his money, thinking nothing of passing days and nights by -the bedside of the sick, contributing more than half the funds -necessary for the maintenance of the village schools, accessible at -all times, and ready with such advice or assistance as the occasion -demanded; but yet they called him "high and standoffish." Old Mr.. -Camden, making a house-to-house visitation perhaps once a year, when -the fit so seized him, "going his rounds," as he called it, would sit -down to dinner in a farm-house kitchen, or take a mug of beer with the -farmer while they talked about crops, and occasionally would preside -at a harvest-home supper, or a Christmas gathering. Martin Gurwood did -nothing of this kind; he was always polite, invariably courteous, but -he never courted anything like fellowship or bonhomie. He had joined -the village cricket-club on his first arrival, and showed himself an -excellent and energetic player; but the familiarity engendered in the -field seemed displeasing to him, and though he continued his -subscription, he gradually withdrew from active membership. Nor was -his religious ardour particularly pleasing to the parishioners, who, -under Mr. Camden's lax rule, had thought it sufficient if they put-in -an appearance at morning service, and thus cleared off the debt of -attendance until the succeeding Sunday. They could not understand what -the parson meant by having prayers at eight o'clock every morning: who -did he expect would go at such a time, they wondered? Not they, nor -their men, who were far away in the fields before that time; not the -missuses, who had the dairy and the house to attend to; not the girls, -who were looking after the linen and minding the younger children; nor -the boys, who, if not at school, were out at farm-work. It was all -very well for the two Miss Dyneleys, the two maiden ladies living at -Ivy Cottage, who had money coming in regular, paid them by the -Government (the Lullington idea of consols was not particularly -clear), and had naught to do from morning till night; it filled-up -their time like, and was a kind of amusement to them. All very well -for old Mr. Willis, who had made his fortune, it was said, by being a -tailor in London, who had bought the Larches where Squire Needham used -to live in the good old times, who could not ride, or drive, or shoot, -or fish, or do anything but walk about his garden with a spud over his -shoulders, and who was said to be dying to get back to business. These -and some two or three of the bigger girls from the Miss Gilks's -seminary for young ladies, were all that attended at "Mattins," as the -name of the morning service stood in Early-english type on the -index-board in the churchyard; but Martin Garwood persevered and went -through the service with as much earnestness and devotion as though -the church had been full and the bishop of the diocese seated in the -vicar's pew.</p> - -<p>There was the usual element of squirearchy in the neighbourhood, and -on Martin's first introduction into its parish the squires' wives -drove over, leaving their own and their husbands' cards, and -invitations to dinner, duly arranged for a time when the moon was at -its full. Mr. Gurwood responded to these invitations, and made his -appearance at the various banquets. Accustomed to old Mr. Camden with -his red face, his bald head, his white whiskers, and black suit cut in -the fashion of a quarter of a century ago, the county people were at -first rather impressed with Martin Gurwood's thin handsome face, and -small well-dressed figure. It was a relief, the women said, to see a -gentleman amongst them, and they were all certain that Mr. Gurwood -would be an acquisition to the local society; but as the guests were -driving homeward from the first of these feasts, several of the male -convives imparted to their wives their idea that the new Vicar of -Lullington was not merely unfit to hold a candle to his predecessor, -but was likely to prove a meddlesome, disagreeable fellow. It seemed -that after the ladies had retired, the conversation becoming as usual -rather free, Mr. Gurwood had sat in blank, stony silence, keeping his -eyes steadily fixed upon the contents of his dessert plate, and -neither by look nor word giving the slightest intimation that he was -aware of what was going on. But when rallied from his silence by Mr. -Lidstone, a man of low tastes and small education, but enormously -wealthy, Mr. Gurwood had spoken out and declared that if by indulging -in such conversation, and telling such stories, they chose to ignore -the respect due to themselves, they ought at least, while he was among -them, to recollect the respect due to him, and to the calling which he -represented. He had no desire to assume the character of a wet blanket -or a kill-joy, but they must understand that for the future they must -chose between his presence and the indulgence in such conversation; -and as they had evidently not expected any such demonstration in the -present instance, he would relieve them of his company at once, and -leave them to decide whether or not he should again come amongst them -as a guest. So saying, the parson had walked out of the window on to -the lawn as cool as a cucumber, and left the squirearchy gaping in -astonishment.</p> - -<p>They were Boeotian, these county people, crass, ignorant, and rusted -with prejudice from want of contact with the world, but they were by -no means bad-hearted, and they took the parson's remonstrance in very -good part. Each one who had already sent Martin Gurwood an invitation, -managed to grip his hand before the evening was over, and took -occasion to renew it, declaring he should have no occasion to -reiterate the remarks which he had just made, and which they perfectly -understood. Nor had he; he went a round of these solemn festivities, -finding each one, both during the presence of the ladies and after -their withdrawal, perfectly decorous, but unspeakably dull. He had not -been sufficiently long in the neighbourhood for the local gossip to -possess the smallest interest to him; he was not sufficient of an -agriculturist to discuss the different methods of farming or the -various qualities of food; he could talk about Oxford indeed, where -some of his hosts or their friends had young relations whom he had -known; he could and did sing well certain Italian songs in a rich -tenor voice; and he discussed church architecture and decorations with -the young ladies. But the old squires and the young squires cared for -none of these things. They remembered how old Anthony Camden would sit -by while the broadest stories were told, looking, save from the -twinkle in his eye and the curling of his bulbous nether lip, as -though he heard them not; with what feeling he would troll out a -ballad of Dibdin's, or a bacchanalian ditty; and how the brewing of -the bowl of punch, the "stirrup-cup," was always intrusted to his -practised hand. Martin Gurwood took a glass of cold water before -leaving; and if he were dining out any distance always had the one -hired fly of the neighbourhood to convey him back to the vicarage. No -wonder that the laughter-loving, roisterous squires shook their heads -when they thought of old Anthony Camden, and mourned over the glories -of those departed days.</p> - -<p>Martin Gurwood was not, however, at Lullington just now. He had -induced an old college friend to look after the welfare of his -parishioners while he ran up, as he did once or twice in the year, to -stay for a fortnight with his mother in Great Walpole-street. John -Calverley, who had a strong liking for Martin, a feeling which the -vicar cordially reciprocated, was anxious that his step-son should -come to them at Christmas; being an old-fashioned soul with a belief -in holly and yule logs, and kindly greetings and open-hearted -charities, at what he invariably spoke of as that "festive season," -and having an intense desire to interpose at such a time a friendly -aegis between him and the stony-faced Gorgon, whom it was his lot -through life to confront. But Martin Gurwood, regarding the Christmas -season in a very different light, urged that at such a time it would -be impossible for him to absent himself from his duties, and after his -own frigid manner refused to be tempted by the convivial blandishments -which John held out to him, or to be scared by the picture of the grim -loneliness of the vicarage which his stepfather drew for his -edification. So, in the early days of November, when the Lullington -farmers were getting well into their hunting, and the London -fogs, scarcely long enough to embrace the entire length of Great -Walpole-street, blotted out its middle and its lower end, leaving the -upper part comparatively bright and airy, Martin Gurwood came to town -and took up his abode in Mrs. Calverley's best spare bedroom.</p> - -<p>The other spare bedroom in the house was occupied by Madame Pauline Du -Tertre, who had for some time been installed there, and had regularly -taken up her position as the friend of the family and confidential -adviser to the female head of the house. Immediately on gaining her -footing within the walls, Pauline had succeeded in establishing -herself in the good graces of the self-contained, silent woman, who -hitherto had never known what it was to have any one to share her -confidences, to listen patiently to her never-ceasing complaints, and -to be able and willing to make little suggestions which chimed-in with -Mrs. Calverley's thoughts and wishes. Years ago, before her first -marriage, Jane Calverley had had a surfeit of toadyism and flattery -from her poor relations and dependants, and from the servants, who -cringed to and fawned upon the young girl as though they had been -southern slaves and she their owner. But in George Gurwood's days, and -since her marriage with her second husband, Mrs. Calverley had made no -friends, and even those whose interest it was to stand well with her -had found it impossible to break through the barriers of icy reserve -with which she surrounded herself. They did not approach her in the -proper manner perhaps, they did not go to work in the right way. -Commonly bred and ill-educated people as they were, they imagined that -the direct road to Jane Calverley's favour lay in pitying her and -speaking against her husband, with whom she was plainly at strife. As -is usual with such people, they overacted their parts; they spoke -strongly and bitterly in their denunciation of Mr. Calverley; they -were coarse, and their loud-trumpeted compassion for their mistress -jarred upon its recipient. Jane Calverley was a proud as well as a -hard woman, and her mind revolted against the idea of being openly -compassionated by her inferiors; so she kept her confidences rigidly -locked in her own breast, and Pauline's was the first hand to press a -spring by which the casket was opened.</p> - -<p>Before the Frenchwoman had been in the house twenty-four hours, she -had learned exactly the relations of its inmates, and as much as has -been already set forth in these pages of their family history. She had -probed the characters of the husband and the wife, had listened to the -mother's eulogies of her saintly son, and had sighed and shaken her -head in seeming condolence over the vividly-described shortcomings of -Mr. Calverley. Without effusion, and with only the dumb sympathy -conveyed by her eloquent eyes and gestures, Pauline managed to lead -her new-found friend, now that she comprehended her domestic troubles, -and would do her best to aid her in getting rid of them, and in many -other ways she made herself useful and agreeable to the cold, -friendless woman who was her hostess. She re-arranged the furniture of -the dreary drawing-room, lighting it up here and there with such -flowers as were procurable, and with evergreens, which she bought -herself; she covered the square formal chairs and couches with muslin -antimacassars, and gave the room, what it had never hitherto had, the -semblance of a woman's presence. She accomplished what everybody had -imagined to be an impossibility, an alteration in the style of Mrs. -Calverley's costume; she made with her own hands a little elegant cap -with soft blond falling from it, which took away from that rigid -outline of the chin; and instead of the wisp of black net round her -throat, she induced Mrs. Calverley to wear a neat white muslin -handkerchief across her chest. The piano, seldom touched, save when -Mrs. Calverley, in an extraordinary good temper, would, for her -husband's edification, thump and strum away at an overture in -<i>Semiramide</i> and other set pieces, which she had learned in her youth, -was now regularly brought into use, and in the evening Pauline would -seat herself at it, playing long selections from Mendelssohn and -Beethoven, or singing religious songs by Mozart, the listening to -which made John Calverley supremely happy, and even brought something -like moisture into his wife's steely eyes. It is probable that had -Mrs. Calverley had any notion that these songs were the composition of -a Roman Catholic, and were many of them used in what she was -accustomed to speak of as "Popish ceremonies," she would never have -been induced even to listen to them; but with unerring judgment -Pauline had at once divined this phase in her employer's character, -and, while the particular sect to which she belonged was of no -importance to herself, had taken care to make Mrs. Calverley -understand that Luther had no more devoted adherent.</p> - -<p>"She is a Huguenot, my dear," said Mrs. Calverley to Martin Gurwood, -shortly after his arrival, and before she had presented him to the -new inmate of the house; "a Huguenot of ancient family, who lost all -their property a long time ago by the revocation of the edict of -somebody--Nancy, I think, was the name. You will find her a most -amiable person, richly endowed with good gifts, and calculated, should -she not suffer from the evil effects of Mr. Calverley's companionship, -to prove an inestimable blessing to me."</p> - -<p>Martin Gurwood expressed himself well pleased to hear this account of -his mother's new-found friend; but, on being presented to Pauline, he -scarcely found the description realised. His natural cleverness had -been sharpened by his public-school and university education; and, -though during the last few years of his life he had been buried in -comparative obscurity, he retained sufficient knowledge of the world -to perceive that a woman like Madame Du Tertre, bright, clever, to a -certain degree accomplished, and possessing immense energy and power -of will, would not have relegated herself to such a life as she was -then leading without having a strong aim to gain. And what that aim -was he was determined to find out.</p> - -<p>But, though these were Martin Gurwood's thoughts, he never permitted a -trace of them to appear in his manner to Madame Du Tertre, which was -scrupulously courteous, if nothing more. Perhaps it was from his -mother that he inherited a certain cold propriety of bearing and -frigidity of demeanour, which his acquaintances generally complained -of. The farmers of Lullington, comparing it with the geniality of -their previous pastor, found it insufferable; and his college friends, -who had come in contact with him of late years, thought he was a -totally changed being from the high-spirited fellow who had been one -of the noisiest athletes of his day. Certain it was that he was now -pensive and reserved; nay more, that when out of Lullington in -company--that is to say, either with any of his former colleagues, -or of a few persons who were visitors at the house in Great -Walpole-street--he seemed desirous almost of shunning observation, and -of studiously keeping in the back-ground, when his mother's pride in -him would have made him take a leading part in any conversation that -might be going on. Before he had been two days in the house Pauline's -quick instinct had detected this peculiarity, and she had mentally -noted it among the things which, properly worked, might help her to -the elucidation of the plan to which she had devoted her life. She -determined on making herself agreeable to this young man, on forcing -him into a certain amount of intimacy and companionship; and so -skilful were her tactics, that, without absolute rudeness, Martin -Gurwood found it impossible entirely to withdraw from her advances.</p> - -<p>One night she challenged him to chess, and during the intervals of the -game she endeavoured to learn more of him than she had hitherto been -able to do in mere desultory conversation in the presence of others.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Calverley was hard at work at the Berlin-wool frame, putting the -final touches to Jael and Sisera; John Calverley, with the newspaper -in his lap, was fast asleep in his easy-chair; and the chess-players -were at the far end of the room, with a shaded lamp between them.</p> - -<p>They formed a strange contrast this couple: he, with his wavy chestnut -hair, his thin red-and-white, clear-cut, whiskerless face, his -shifting blue eyes, and his weak irresolute mouth; she, with her olive -complexion, her blue-black hair, her steady earnest gaze, her square -firm jaw, and the deep orange trimmings of her black silk dress, -showing off strangely against her companion's sable-hued clerical -dress.</p> - -<p>"You are too strong for me, monsieur," said Pauline, at the conclusion -of the first game; "but I will not yield you the victory without a -farther struggle."</p> - -<p>"I was going to say you played an excellent game, Madame Du Tertre; -but after your remark, it would sound: as though I were complimenting -myself," said Martin. "I have but few opportunities for chess-playing -now, but it was a favourite game of mine at college; and I knew many a -man who prided himself on his play whose head for it was certainly not -so good as yours."</p> - -<p>"You have not many persons in your--what you call your parish--who -play chess?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed," said Martin; "cribbage I believe to be the highest -flight in that line amongst the farmers."</p> - -<p>"Madame Calverley has explained to me the style of place that it is. -Is it not wearisome to you to a degree to pass your existence in such -a locale amongst such a set of people?"</p> - -<p>"It is my duty, Madame Du Tertre," said Martin, "and I do not repine."</p> - -<p>"Ah, monsieur," said Pauline, with an inclination of her head and -downcast eyes, "I am the last person in the world to rebel against -duty, or to allow that it should not be undertaken in that spirit of -Christianity which you have shown. But are you sure, Monsieur Martin, -that you are acting rightly? However good your intentions may be, with -your devotion to the cause you have espoused, and with your great -talents, you should be taking a leading position in the great battle -of religion; whereas, by burying yourself in this hole, there you lose -for yourself the opportunity of fame, while the Church loses a -brilliant leader."</p> - -<p>"I have no desire for fame, Madame Du Tertre; and if I can only do my -duty diligently, it is enough for me."</p> - -<p>"Yes; but there is another thing. Pardon me, Monsieur Martin, I am a -strange woman and some years older than you, so that you must not -think me guilty of an impertinence in speaking freely to you. Your -Church--our Church--does not condemn its ministers to an ascetic or a -celibate life--that is one of the wildest errors of Romanism. Has it -never struck you that in consenting to remain amongst persons with -whom you have nothing in common--where you are never likely to meet a -woman calculated so to excite your admiration and affection as to -induce you to make her your wife, you are rather following the Roman -than the Protestant custom?"</p> - -<p>A faint flush, duly marked by Pauline's keen eyes, passed over Martin -Gurwood's handsome features. "I have no intention of marrying," he -said, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Not now perhaps," said Pauline, "because you have not yet seen anyone -whom you could love. A man of your taste and education is always -fastidious; but, depend upon it, you will some day find some lovely -girl of ancient family who--"</p> - -<p>"It will be time enough then to speak of it, Madame Du Tertre, would -it not?" said Martin Gurwood, flushing again. "Now, if you please, we -will resume our game."</p> - -<p>When Pauline went to her bedroom that night she locked the door, threw -herself into an easy-chair in front of the fire, and remained buried -in contemplation. Then she rose, and as she strolled towards the -dressing-table, said half aloud: "That man is jealously guarding a -secret--and it is his own!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> -<h5>TOM DURHAM'S FRIEND.</h5> -<br> - -<p>On the morning after the Reverend Martin Gurwood and Madame Du Tertre -had had their game at chess, and held the conversation just recorded, -a straggling sunbeam, which had lost its way, turned by accident into -'Change-alley, and fell straight on to the bald head of a gentleman in -the second-floor of one of the houses there. This gentleman, who, -according to the inscription on the outer door jamb, was Mr. Humphrey -Statham, was so astonished at the unexpected solar apparition, that he -laid down the bundle of red tape with which he was knotting some -papers together, and advancing to the grimy window, rubbed a square -inch of dirt off the pane, and bending down, looked up at as much as -he could discern of the narrow strip of dun-coloured sky which does -duty for the blue empyrean to the inhabitants of 'Change-alley. The -sun but rarely visits 'Change-alley in summer, and in winter scarcely -ever puts in--an appearance; the denizens endeavour to compensate -themselves for its absence by hanging huge burnished tin reflectors -outside their windows, or giving up all attempts at deception, and -sitting under gaslight from morning till eve. So that what Mr. Statham -saw when he looked up was as satisfactory as it was unexpected, and he -rubbed his hands together in sheer geniality, as he muttered something -about having "decent weather for his trip."</p> - -<p>A tall, strongly-built man, and good-looking after his fashion, with a -fringe of dark-brown hair round his bald crown, large regular -features, piercing hazel eyes, somewhat overhanging brows, a pleasant -mobile mouth, and a crisp brown beard.</p> - -<p>Humphrey Statham was a ship-broker, though, from a cursory glance at -his office, it would have been difficult to guess what occupation he -pursued, furnished as it was in the ordinary business fashion. There -was a large leather-covered writing-table, at which he was seated, a -standing desk in the window, an old worn stained leather easy-chair -for clients, the customary directories and commercial lists on shelves -against the wall, the usual Stationers' Almanac hanging above the -mantelpiece, the usual worn carpet and cinder-browned hearth-rug. In -the outer office, where the four clerks sat, and where the smaller -owners and the captains had to wait Mr. Statham's leisure (large -owners and underwriters being granted immediate audience), the walls -were covered with printed bills, announcing the dates of departure of -certain ships, the approaching sale of others; the high desks were -laden with huge ledgers and files of Lloyd's lists; and one of the -clerks, who took a deep interest in his business, gave quite a -maritime flavour to the place by invariably wearing a particular short -pea-jacket and a hard round oilskin hat.</p> - -<p>Not much leisure had these clerks; they were, to use their own phrase, -"at it" from morning till night, for Mr. Statham's business was a -large one, and though all the more important part of it was discharged -by himself, there was plenty of letter-writing and agreement copying, -ledger-entering, and running backwards and forwards between the office -and Lloyd's when the "governor," as they called him, was busy with the -underwriters. This year had been a peculiarly busy one; so busy, that -Mr. Statham had been unable to take his usual autumnal holiday, a -period of relaxation which he always looked forward to, and which, -being fond of athletics, and still in the very prime of life, he -usually passed among the Swiss Alps. This autumn he had passed it at -Teddington instead of Courmayeur, and had substituted a couple of -hours' pull on the river in the evening for his mountain climbing and -hairbreadth escapes. But the change had not been sufficient; his head -was dazed, he suffered under a great sense of lassitude; and his -doctor had ordered him to knock-off work, and to start immediately for -a clear month's vacation. Where he was to go he had scarcely made up -his mind. Of course, Switzerland in November was impossible, and he -was debating between the attractions of a month's snipe-shooting in -Ireland and the delight of passing his time on board one of the Scilly -Islands pilot-boats, roughing it with the men, and thoroughly enjoying -the wild life and the dangerous occupation. A grave, plain-mannered -man in his business--somewhat over cautious and reserved they thought -him at Lloyd's--Humphrey Statham, when away for his holiday, had the -high spirits of a boy, and never was so happy as when he had thrown -off all the ordinary constraints of conventionality, and was leading a -life widely different from that normally led by him, and associating -with persons widely different from those with whom he was ordinarily -brought into contact. Mr. Statham was, however, in his business just -now, and had not thrown off his cautious habits. By his side stood a -large iron safe, with one or two of its drawers open, and before him -lay a number of letters and papers, which he read through one by one, -or curiously glanced at, duly docketed them, made some memorandum -regarding them in his note-book, and stowed them away in a drawer in -the safe. As he read through some of them, he smiled; at others he -glanced with an angry frown or a shoulder-shrug of contempt; but there -were one or two during the perusal of which the lines in his face -seemed to deepen perceptibly, and before he laid them aside he -pondered long and deeply over their contents.</p> - -<p>"What a queer lot it is!" said Humphrey Statham wearily, throwing -himself back in his chair; "and how astonished people would be if they -only knew what a strange mass of human interests these papers -represent! With the exception of Collins, outside there, no one, I -suppose, comes into this room who does not imagine that this safe -contains nothing but business memoranda, insurances, brokerages, -calculations, and commissions; details concerning the Lively Polly of -Yarmouth, or the Saucy Sally of Whitstable; or who has the faintest -idea that among the business documents there are papers and letters -which would form good stock-in-trade for a romance writer! Why on -earth do those fellows spin their brains, when for a very small -investment of cash they could get people to tell them their own -experiences, actual facts and occurrences, infinitely more striking -and interesting than the nonsense which they invent? Every man who -has seen anything of life must at one time or other have had some -strange experience: the man who sells dog-collars and penknives at the -corner of the court; the old broken-down hack in the outer office, who -was a gentleman once, and now copies letters and runs errands for -fifteen shillings a week; and I, the solemn, grave, trusted man of -business--I, the cautious and reserved Humphrey Statham--perhaps I too -have had my experiences which would work into a strange story! A story -I may have to tell some day--may have to tell to a man, standing face -to face with him, looking straight into his eyes, and showing him how -he has been delivered into my hands." And Humphrey Statham crossed his -arms before him and let his chin sink upon his breast, as he indulged -in a profound reverie.</p> - -<p>We will anticipate the story which Mr. Statham imagined that he would -some day have to tell under such peculiar circumstances.</p> - -<p>Humphrey Statham's father was a merchant and a man of means, living in -good style in Russell-square; and, though of a somewhat gloomy -temperament and stern demeanour, in his way fond of his son, and -determined that the lad should be educated and prepared for the -position which he would afterwards have to assume. Humphrey's mother -was dead--had died soon after his birth--he had no brothers or -sisters; and as Mr. Statham had never married again, the household was -conducted by his sister, a meek long-suffering maiden lady, to whom -hebdomadal attendance at the Foundling Chapel was the one joy in life. -It had first been intended that the child should be educated at home; -but he seemed so out of place in the big old-fashioned house, so -strange in the company of his grave father or melancholy aunt, that, -to prevent his being given over entirely to the servants, whom he -liked very much, and with whom he spent most of his time, he was sent -at an early age to a preparatory establishment, and then transferred -to a grammar-school of repute in the neighbourhood of London. He was a -dare-devil boy, full of fun and mischief, capital at cricket and -football, and though remarkably quick by nature, and undoubtedly -possessing plenty of appreciative common-sense and savoir faire, yet -taking no position in the school, and held in very cheap estimation by -his master. The half-yearly reports which, together with the bills for -education and extras, were placed inside Master Humphrey's box, on the -top of his neatly-packed clothes, and accompanied him home at every -vacation from Canehambury, did not tend to make Mr. Statham any the -less stern, or his manner to his son any more indulgent. The boy -knew--he could not help knowing--that his father was wealthy and -influential, and he had looked forward to his future without any fear, -and, indeed, without very much concern. He thought he should like to -go into the army, which meant to wear a handsome uniform and do little -or nothing, to be petted by the ladies, of whose charms he had already -shown himself perfectly cognisant, and to lead a life of luxury and -ease. But Mr. Statham had widely different views. Although he had -succeeded to his business, he had vastly improved it since he became -its master, and had no idea of surrendering so lucrative a concern to -a stranger, or of letting it pass out of the family. As he had worked, -so should his son work in his turn; and accordingly, Master Humphrey -on his removal from Canehambury was sent to a tutor resident in one of -the Rhineland towns, with a view to his instruction in French and -German, and to his development from a careless, high-spirited lad into -a man of business and of the world.</p> - -<p>The German tutor, a dreamy misty transcendentalist, was eminently -unfitted for the charge intrusted to him. He gave the boy certain -books, and left him to read them or not, as he chose; he set him -certain tasks, but never took the trouble to see how they had been -performed, or, indeed, whether they had been touched at all, till he -was remarkably astonished after a short time to find his pupil -speaking very excellent German, and once or twice took the trouble to -wonder how "Homfrie," as he called him, could have acquired such a -mastery of the language. Had an explanation of the marvel ever been -asked of Humphrey himself, he could have explained it very readily. -The town selected for his domicile was one of the celebrated -art-academies of Germany, a place where painters of all kinds flocked -from all parts to study under the renowned professors therein -resident. A jovial, thriftless, kindly set of Bohemians these -painters, in the strict sense of the word, impecunious to a degree, -now working from morn till eve for days together, now not touching -pencil or maulstick for weeks, living in a perpetual fog of tobacco, -and spending their nights in beer-drinking and song-singing, in cheap -epicureanism and noisy philosophical discussions. To this society of -careless convives Humphrey Statham obtained a ready introduction, and -among them soon established himself as a prime favourite. The bright -face and interminable spirits of "Gesellschap's Englander," as he was -called (Gesellschap was the name of his tutor), made him welcome -everywhere. He passed his days in lounging from studio to studio, -smoking pipes and exchanging jokes with their denizens, occasionally -standing for a model for his hosts, now with bare neck and arms -appearing as a Roman gladiator, now with casque and morion as a young -Flemish burgher of Van Artevelde's guard, always ready, always -obliging, roaring at his own linguistic mistakes, but never failing to -correct them; while at night at the painters' club, the Malkasten, or -the less aristocratic Kneipe, his voice was the cheeriest in the -chorus, his wit the readiest in suggesting tableaux vivants, or in -improvising practical jokes.</p> - -<p>A pleasant life truly, but not, perhaps, a particularly reputable one. -Certainly not one calculated for the formation of a City man of -business according to Mr. Statham's interpretation of the term. When -at the age of twenty the young man tore himself away from his Bohemian -comrades, who kissed him fervently, and wept beery tears at his -departure, and, in obedience to his father's commands, returned to -England and to respectability, to take up his position in the paternal -counting-house, Mr. Statham was considerably more astonished than -gratified at the manner in which his son's time had been passed, and -at its too evident results. About Humphrey there was nothing which -could be called slang in the English sense of the term, certainly -nothing vulgar; but there was a reckless abandon, a defiance of set -propriety, a superb scorn for the respectable conventionality -regulating the movements and the very thoughts of the circle in which -Mr. Statham moved, which that worthy gentleman observed with horror, -and which he considered almost as loathsome as vice itself. Previous -to his presentation to the establishment over which he was to rule, -Humphrey's long locks were clipped away, his light downy beard shaved -off, his fantastic garments exchanged for sad-coloured soberly-cut -clothes; and when this transformation had been accomplished, the young -man was taken into the City and placed in the hands of Mr. Morrison -the chief clerk, who was enjoined to give a strict account of his -business qualifications. Mr. Morrison's report did not tend to -dissipate the disappointment which had fallen like a blow on the old -man's mind. Humphrey could talk German as glibly and with as good an -accent as any Rhinelander from Manheim to Düsseldorf; he had picked up -a vast amount of conversational French from the French artists who had -formed part of his jolly society; and had command of an amount of -argot which would have astonished Monsieur Philarète Chasles himself; -but he had never been in the habit of either reading or writing -anything but the smallest scraps of notes; and when Mr. Morrison -placed before him a four-sided letter from their agent at Hamburg, -couched in commercial German phraseology, and requested him to -re-translate and answer it, Humphrey's expressive face looked so -woe-begone and he boggled so perceptibly over the manuscript, that one -of the junior clerks saw the state of affairs at a glance, and -confidentially informed his neighbour at the next desk that "young S. -was up a tree."</p> - -<p>It was impossible to hide these shortcomings from Mr. Statham, who was -anxiously awaiting Mr. Morrison's report; and after reading it, and -assuring himself of its correctness by a personal examination of his -son, his manner, which ever since Humphrey's return had been frigid -and reserved, grew harsh and stern. He took an early opportunity of -calling Humphrey into his private room, and of informing him that he -should have one month's probation, and that if he did not signally -improve by the end of that time, he would be removed from the -office, as his father did not choose to have one of his name the -laughing-stock of those employed by him. The young man winced under -this speech, which he received in silence, but in five minutes after -leaving his father's presence his mind was made up. He would go -through the month's probation, since it was expected of him, but he -would not make the smallest attempt to improve himself; and he would -leave his future to chance. Punctually, on the very day that the month -expired, Mr. Statham again sent for his son; told him he had -discovered no more interest in, or inclination for, the business than -he had shown on his first day of joining the house, and that in -consequence he must give up all idea of becoming a partner, or, -indeed, of having anything farther to do with the establishment. An -allowance of two hundred pounds a year would be paid to him during his -father's lifetime, and would be bequeathed to him in his father's -will; he must never expect to receive anything else, and Mr. Statham -broadly hinted, in conclusion, that it would be far more agreeable -to him if his son would take up his residence anywhere than in -Russell-square, and that he should feel particularly relieved if he -never saw him again.</p> - -<p>This arrangement suited Humphrey Statham admirably. Two hundred a year -to a very young man, who has never had any command of money, is an -important sum. He left the counting-house; and whatever respect and -regard he may have felt for his father had been obliterated by the -invariable sternness and opposition with which all his advances had -been received. Two hundred a year! He would be off back at once to -Rhineland, where, among the painters, he could live like a prince with -such an income; and he went--and in six months came back again. The -thing was changed somehow; it was not as it used to be. There were the -same men, indeed, living the same kind of life, equally glad to -welcome their English comrade, and to give him the run of their -studios and their clubs and kneipes; but after a time this kind of -life seemed very flat and vapid to Humphrey Statham. The truth is, -that during his six weeks' office experience he had seen something of -London; and on reflection he made up his mind that, after all, it was -perhaps a more amusing place than any of the Rhineland towns. On his -return to London he took a neat lodging, and for four or five years -led a purposeless idle life, such a life as is led by hundreds of -young men who are burdened with that curse--a bare sufficiency, -scarcely enough to keep them, more than enough to prevent them from -seeking employment, and to dull any aspirations which they may -possess. It was during this period of his life that Humphrey made the -acquaintance of Tom Durham, whose gaiety, recklessness, and charm of -manner, fascinated him at once; and he himself took a liking to the -frank, generous, high-spirited young man, Tom Durham's knowledge of -the world made him conscious that, though indolent, and to a certain -extent dissipated, Humphrey Statham was by no means depraved, and to -his friend Mr. Durham therefore exhibited only the best side of his -nature. He was engaged in some wild speculations just at that time, -and it was while careering over the country with Tom Durham in search -of a capitalist to float some marvellous invention of that fertile -genius, that Humphrey Statham met with an adventure which completely -altered the current of his life.</p> - -<p>They were making Leeds their headquarters, but Tom Durham had gone -over to Batley for a day or two, to see the owner of a shoddy mill, -who was reported to be both rich and speculative; and Humphrey was -left alone. He was strolling about in the evening, thinking what a -horrible place Leeds was, and what a large sum of money a man ought to -be paid for living in it, when he was overtaken and passed by a girl, -walking rapidly in the direction of Headingley. The glimpse he caught -of her face showed him that it was more than ordinarily beautiful, and -Humphrey quickened his lazy pace, and followed her until he saw her -safely housed in a small neat dwelling. The next day he made inquiries -about this girl, the transient glance of whose face had made such an -impression upon him, and found that her name was Emily Mitchell; that -her father, now dead, had been a booking-clerk in one of the large -factories; that she was employed in a draper's shop; and that she -lived with her uncle and aunt in the small house to which Humphrey had -tracked her. Humphrey Statham speedily made Miss Mitchell's -acquaintance, found her more beautiful than he had imagined, and as -fascinating as she was lovely; fascinating not in the ordinary sense -of the word, not by coquetry or blandishment, but by innate -refinement, grace, and innocence. After seeing her and talking with -her a few times, Humphrey could no longer control his feelings, and -finding that he was not indifferent to Emily--his good looks, his -frank nature, and his easy bearing, well qualified him to find favour -in the eyes of such a girl--he spoke out plainly to her uncle, and -told him how matters stood. He was in love with Emily, he said, and -most anxious to marry, but his income was but 200<i>l</i>. a year, not -sufficient to maintain her, even in the quiet way both he and she -desired they should live; but he was young, and though he had been -idle, now that he had an incentive to work he would show what he could -do. It was possible that, seeing the difference in him, his father -might be inclined to relent, and put something in his way, or some of -his father's friends might give him employment. He would go to London -and seek for it at once, and so soon as he saw his way to earning -200<i>l</i>. a year in addition to his annuity, he would return and claim -Emily for his wife.</p> - -<p>In this view the uncle, a practical old north-countryman, coincided; -the young people could not marry upon the income which Mr. Humphrey -possessed; they had plenty of life before them; and when the young man -came back and proved that he had carried out his promise, no obstacle -should be made by Emily's friends.</p> - -<p>Humphrey Statham returned to London, and wrote at once to his father, -telling him that he had seen the errors of his youth, and was prepared -to apply himself to any sort of business which his father could place -in his way. In reply he received a curt note from Mr. Statham, stating -that the writer did not know of any position which Humphrey could -competently fulfil, reminding him of the agreement between them, and -hinting dislike at the reopening of any correspondence or -communication. Foiled at this point, Humphrey Statham secretly took -the advice of old Mr. Morrison, the chief clerk in his father's -office, a kindly as well as a conscientious man, who had endeavoured -to soften the young man's lot during the few weeks he had passed in -the dull counting-house, and at his recommendation Humphrey -established himself as a ship-broker, and for two years toiled on from -morning till night, doing a small and not very remunerative business, -but proving to such as employed him that he possessed industry, -energy, and tact. During this period he ran down to Leeds, at four -distinct intervals, to pass a couple of days with Emily, whose uncle -had died, and who remained in the house of her helpless bed-ridden -aunt. At the end of this time Mr. Statham died, leaving in his will a -sum of 10,000<i>l</i>. to his son, "as a recognition of his attempt to -gain a livelihood for himself;" and bequeathing the rest of his -fortune to various charities.</p> - -<p>So at last Humphrey Statham saw his way to bringing Emily home in -triumph as his wife, and with this object he started: for Leeds, -immediately after his father's funeral. He had written to her to -announce his arrival, and was surprised not to find her awaiting him -on the platform. Then he jumped into a cab, and hurried out to -Headingley. On his arrival at the little house, the stupid girl who -attended on the bed-ridden old woman seemed astonished at seeing him, -and answered his inquiries after Emily inconsequently, and with -manifest terror. With a sudden sinking of the heart Humphrey made his -way to the old lady's bedside, and from her quivering lips learned -that Emily had disappeared.</p> - -<p>Yes! Emily had fled from her home, so said her aunt, and so said the -few neighbours who, roused at the sight of a cab, had come crowding -into the cottage. About a week ago, they told him, she had gone out in -the morning to her work as usual, and had never returned. She left no -letter of explanation, and no trace of her flight had been discovered; -there was no slur upon her character, and, so far as their knowledge -went, she had made no strange acquaintance. She received a number of -letters, which she had always said were from Mr. Statham. What did he -come down there for speering after Emily, when, of all persons in the -world, he was the likeliest to tell them where she had been?</p> - -<p>Humphrey Statham fell back like a man stunned by a heavy blow. He had -come down there to carry out the wish of his life; to tell the woman -whom, in the inmost depths of his big manly heart he worshipped, that -the hope of his life was at last accomplished, and that he was at -length enabled to take her away, to give her a good position, and to -devote the remainder of his existence to her service. She was not -there to hear his triumphant avowal--she had fled, no one knew where, -and he saw plainly enough that, not merely was all sympathy withheld -from him, but that he was suspected by the neighbours to have been -privy to, and probably the accomplice of, her flight, and that his -arrival there a few days afterwards with the apparent view of making -inquiries was merely an attempt to hoodwink them, and to divert the -search which might possibly be made after her into another direction.</p> - -<p>Under such circumstances, an ordinary man would have fallen into a -fury, and burst out into wild lamentation or passionate invective; but -Humphrey Statham was not an ordinary man. He knew himself guiltless of -the crime of which by Emily's friends and neighbours he was evidently -suspected, but he also knew that the mere fact of her elopement, or at -all events of her quitting her home without consulting him on the -subject, showed that she had no love for him, and that therefore he -had no right to interfere with her actions. He told the neighbours -this in hard, measured accents, with stony eyes and colourless cheeks. -But when he saw that even then they disbelieved him, that even then -they thought he knew more of Emily Mitchell's whereabouts than he -cared to say, he instructed the local authorities to make such -inquiries as lay in their power, and, offered a reward for Emily -Mitchell's discovery to the police. He returned, to London an altered -man; his one hope in life had been rudely extinguished, and there was -nothing now left for him to care for. He had a competency, but it was -valueless to him now; the only one way left to him of temporarily -putting aside his great grief was by plunging into work, and busying -his mind with those commercial details which at one time he had so -fervently abhorred, and now, when it was no longer a necessity for -him, business came to him in galore, his name and fame were -established in the great City community, and no man in his position -was more respected, or had a larger number of clients.</p> - -<p>"Too late comes this apple to me," muttered Humphrey Statham, quoting -Owen Meredith, as he shook himself out of the reverie into which he -had fallen. "Nearly four years ago since I paid my last visit to -Leeds; more than three since, as a last resource, I consulted the -Scotland-yard people, and instructed them to do their best in -elucidating the mystery. The Scotland-yard people are humbugs; I have -never heard of them since, and shall never hear of Emily again. Good -God, how I loved her! how I love her still! Was it that she stands out -in my memory as my first and only real love, lit up perhaps by boyish -fancy--the same fancy that makes me imagine that my old bare cock-loft -in the Adelphi was better than my present comfortable rooms in -Sackville-street. <i>Dans un grenier qu'on est bien à vingt ans</i>. No, -she was more than that. She was the only woman that ever inspired me -with anything like real affection, and I worship her--her memory I -suppose I must call it now--as I worshipped her own sweet self an hour -before I learned of her flight. There, there is an end of that. Now -let me finish-up this lot, and leave all in decent order, so that if I -end my career in a snipe-bog, or one of the Tresco pilot-boats goes -down while I am on board of her, old Collins may have no difficulty in -disposing of the contents of the safe."</p> - -<p>Out of the mass of papers which had originally been lying before him, -only two were left. He took up one of them and read the indorsement, -"T. Durham--to be delivered to him or his written order (Akhbar K)." -This paper he threw into the second drawer of the safe; then he took -up the last, inscribed "Copy of instructions to Tatlow in regard to E. -M."</p> - -<p>"Instructions to Tatlow, indeed!" said Humphrey Statham, with curling -lip; "it is more than three years since those instructions were given, -but hitherto they have borne no fruit. I have half a mind to destroy -them; it is scarcely possible--"</p> - -<p>His reflections were interrupted by a knock at the door. Bidden to -come in, Mr. Collins, the confidential clerk, put in his head, and -murmured, "Mr. Tatlow, from Scotland-yard."</p> - -<p>"In the very nick of time," said Humphrey Statham, with a half-smile; -"send Mr. Tatlow in at once."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> -<h5>MR. TATLOW ON THE TRACK.</h5> -<br> - -"Mr. Tatlow?" said Humphrey Statham, as his visitor entered. - -<p>"Servant, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, a Somewhat ordinary-looking man, -dressed in black.</p> - -<p>"I had no idea this case had been placed in your hands, Mr. Tatlow," -said Humphrey. "I have heard of you, though I have never met you -before in business, and have always understood you to be an -experienced officer."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, with a short bow. "What may have -altered your opinion in that respect now?"</p> - -<p>"The length of time which has elapsed since I first mentioned this -matter in Scotland-yard. That was three years ago, and from that day -to this I have had no communication with the authorities."</p> - -<p>"Well, sir, you see," said Mr. Tatlow, "different people have -different ways of doing business; and when the inspector put this case -into my hands, he said to me, 'Tatlow,' said he, 'this is a case which -will most likely take considerable time to unravel, and it's one in -which there will be a great many ups and downs, and the scent will -grow warm and the scent will grow cold, and you will think you have -got the whole explanation of the story at one moment, and the next -you'll think you know nothing at all about it. The young woman is -gone,' the inspector says, 'and you'll hear of her here and you'll -hear of her there, and you'll be quite sure you've got hold of the -right party, and then you'll find it's nothing of the sort, and be -inclined to give up the business in despair; and then suddenly, -perhaps, when you're engaged on something else, you'll strike into the -right track, and bring it home in the end. Now, it's no good worrying -the gentleman,' said the inspector, 'with every little bit of news you -hear, or with anything that may happen to strike you in the inquiry, -for you'll be raising his spirits at one time, and rendering him more -wretched in another; and my advice to you is, not to go near him until -you have got something like a clear and complete case to lay before -him.' Those were the inspector's words to me, sir--upon which advice I -acted."</p> - -<p>"Very good counsel, Mr. Tatlow, and very sensible of you to follow -it," said Humphrey Statham. "Am I to understand from this visit that -your case is now complete?"</p> - -<p>"Well, sir, as complete as I can make it at present," said Mr. Tatlow.</p> - -<p>"You have found her?" cried Humphrey Statham eagerly, the blood -flushing into his cheeks.</p> - -<p>"I know where the young woman is now," said Mr. Tatlow evasively; "but -do not build upon that, sir," he added, as he marked his questioner's -look of anxiety. "We were too late, sir; you will never see her -again."</p> - -<p>"Too late!" echoed Humphrey. "What do you mean? Where is she? I insist -upon knowing!"</p> - -<p>"In Hendon churchyard, sir," said Mr. Tatlow quietly; "that's where -the young woman is now."</p> - -<p>Humphrey Statham bowed his head, and remained, silent for some few -moments; then, without raising his eyes, he said: "Tell me about it, -Mr. Tatlow, please; I should like to have all details from first to -last."</p> - -<p>"Don't you think," said Mr. Tatlow kindly--"don't you think I might -look in some other time, sir?--you don't seem very strong just now; -and it's no use a man trying his nerves when there is no occasion for -it."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Humphrey Statham, "I would sooner hear the story -now. I have been ill, and am going out of town, and it may be some -little-time before I return, and I should like, while I am away, to be -able to think over what has--to know about--tell me, please, at once."</p> - -<p>"The story is not a long one, sir," said Mr. Tatlow; "and when you see -how plain and clear it tells, I daresay you will think the case was -not a difficult one, for all it took so long to work out; but you see -this is fancy-work, as I may call it, that one has to take up in the -intervals of regular business, and to lay aside again whenever a great -robbery or a murder crops up, and just as one is warm and interested -in it, one may be sent off to Paris or New York, and when you come -back you have almost to begin again. There was one advantage in this -case, that I had it to myself from the start, and hadn't to work up -anybody else's line. I began," continued Mr. Tatlow, after a momentary -pause, taking a notebook from his pocket and reading from its pages, -"at the very beginning, and first saw the draper people at Leeds, -where Miss Mitchell was employed. They spoke very highly of her, as a -good, industrious girl, and were very sorry when she went away. She -gave them a regular month's notice, stating that she had an -opportunity of bettering herself by getting an engagement at a -first-class house in London. Did the Leeds drapers, Hodder by name, -say anything to Miss M.'s friends? No, they did not," continued Mr. -Tatlow, answering himself; "most likely they would have mentioned it -if the uncle had been alive--a brisk, intelligent man--but he was dead -at that time, and no one was left but the bedridden old woman. After -her niece's flight she sent down to Hodder and Company, and they told -her what Miss M. had told them, though the old woman and her friends -plainly did not believe it. It was not until some weeks afterwards -that one of Hodder's girls had a letter from a friend of hers, who had -previously been with their firm, but was now engaged at Mivenson's, -the great drapers in Oxford-street, London, to say that Emily Mitchell -had joined their establishment; she was passing under the name of -Moore, but this girl knew her at once, and agreed to keep her -confidence. Now to page forty-nine. That's only a private memorandum -for my own information," said Mr. Tatlow, turning over the leaves -of his book. "Page forty-nine. Here you are! Mivenson's, in -Oxford-street--old gentleman out of town--laid up with the gout--saw -eldest son, partner in the house--recollected Miss Moore perfectly, -and had come to them with some recommendation--never took young -persons into their house unless they were properly recommended, and -always kept register of reference. Looking into register found Emily -M. had been recommended by Mrs. Calverley, one of their customers, -most respectable lady, living in Great Walpole-street. Made inquiry -myself about Mrs. C., and made her out to be a prim, elderly, -evangelical party, wife of City man in large way of business. Emily M. -did not remain long at Mivenson's. Not a strong girl; had had a -fainting fit or two while in their employ, and one day she wrote to -say she was too ill to come to work, and they never saw her again. -Could they give him the address from which she wrote?" Certainly. -Address-book sent for; 143 Great College-street, Camden Town. Go to -page sixty. Landlady at Great College-street perfectly recollected -Miss Moore. Quiet, delicate girl, regular in her habits; never out -later than ten at night; keeping no company, and giving no trouble. -Used to be brought home regular every night by a gentleman--always -the same gentleman, landlady thought, but couldn't swear, as she -had never made him out properly, though she had often tried. Seen -from the area, landlady remarked, people looked so different. -Gentleman always took leave of Miss Moore at the door, and was never -seen again in the neighbourhood until he brought her back the next -night. Landlady recollected Miss Moore's going away. When she gave -notice about leaving, explained to landlady that she was ill and was -ordered change of air; didn't seem to be any worse than she had been -all along, but, of course, it was not her (the landlady's) place to -make any objection. At the end of the week a cab was sent for, Miss -Moore's boxes were put into it, and she drove away. Did the landlady -hear the address given to the cabman? She did. 'Waterloo Station, -Richmond line.' That answer seemed to me to screw up the whole -proceedings; trying to find the clue to a person, who, months before, -had gone away from the Waterloo Station, seemed as likely as feeling -for a threepenny-piece in a corn-sack. I made one or two inquiries, -but heard nothing, and had given the whole thing up for as good as -lost, when--let me see, page two hundred and one.</p> - -<p>"Here you are! Memoranda in the case of Benjamin Biggs, cashier in the -Limpid Water Company, charged with embezzlement. Fine game he kept up, -did Mr. Biggs. Salary about two hundred a year, and lived at the rate -of ten thousand. Beautiful place out of town, just opposite Bobbington -Lock, horses, carriages, and what you please. I was engaged in Biggs' -matter, and I had been up to Bobbington one afternoon--for there was a -notion just then that Biggs hadn't got clear off and might come home -again--so I thought I'd take a lodging and hang about the village for -a week or two. It was pleasant summer weather, and I've a liking for -the river and for such a place as Bushey Park, though not with many -opportunities of seeing much of either. I had been through Biggs' -house, and was standing in Messenger's boat-yard, looking at the -parties putting off in the water, when a voice close to my ear says, -'Hallo, Tatlow! What's up?' and looking round I saw Mr. Netherton -Whiffle, the leading junior at the Bailey, and the most rising man at -the C.C.C. I scarcely knew him at first, for he had got on a round -straw hat instead of his wig, and a tight-fitting jersey instead of -his gown; and when I recognised him and told him what business I had -come down upon, he only laughed, and said that Biggs knew more than me -and all Scotland-yard put together; and the best thing that I could do -was to go into the 'Anglers' and put my name to what I liked at his -expense. He's a very pleasant fellow, Mr. Whiffle; and while I was -drinking something iced I told him about my wanting a lodging, and he -recommended me to a very respectable little cottage kept by the mother -of his gardener. A pretty place it was to not looking on the river, -but standing in a nice neatly-kept garden, with the big trees of -Bushey Park at the back of you, and the birds singing beautiful. I -fancy, when I am superannuated I should like a place of that sort for -myself and Mrs. T. Nice rooms too; the lodgings, a bedroom and -sitting-room, but a cut above my means. I was saying so to the old -woman--motherly old creature she was--as we were looking round the -bedroom, when I caught sight of something which fixed my attention at -once. It was an old black box, like a child's school-trunk, with on -the outside lid 'E. M.' in brass letters, and a railway label of the -G.N.R., 'Leeds to London,' still sticking on it. Something told me I -had 'struck ile,' as the Yankees say; and I asked the old woman to -whom that box belonged. 'To her,' she said, she supposed; 'leastways -it had been there for many months, left behind by a lodger who had -gone away and never sent for it.' It took a little hot rum-and-water -to get the lodger's story out of that old lady, sir; not a refreshing -drink on a summer's day, but required to be gone through in the course -of duty, and it was worth it, as you will see.</p> - -<p>"In the previous summer the rooms had been taken by a gentleman who -gave the name of Smith, and who the next day brought down the young -lady and her boxes. She was pretty but very delicate-looking, and -seemed to have very bad health. He came down three or four times a -week, and then she brightened up a bit, and seemed a little more -cheerful; but when she was alone she was dreadfully down, and the -landlady had seen her crying by the hour together. They lived very -quietly; no going out, no water-parties, no people to see them, bills of -lodging paid for every week; quite the regular thing. This went on for -two or three months; then the gentleman's visits grew less frequent, he -only came down once or twice a week, and, on more than one occasion, -the old woman sitting in the kitchen thought she heard high words -between them. One Saturday afternoon, when Mr. Smith had gone away, -about an hour after his departure the lady packed all her things, paid -up the few shillings which remained after his settlement, and ordered a -fly to take her to the station. There was no room on the fly for the -little box which I had seen, and she said she would send an address to -which it could be forwarded. On the Monday evening Mr. Smith came down -as usual; he was very much astonished to find the lady gone, but, after; -reading a letter which she had left for him, he seemed very much -agitated, and sent out for some brandy; then he paid the week's rent, -which was demanded instead of the notice, and left the place. The box -had never been sent for, nor had the old woman ever heard anything -farther of the lady or the gentleman.</p> - -<p>"The story hangs together pretty well, don't it, sir? E. M. and the -railway ticket on the box (r forgot to say that I looked inside, and -saw the maker's, name, 'Hudspeth, of Boar-lane, Leeds') looked pretty -much like Emily Mitchell, and the old woman's description of Mr. Smith -tallied tolerably with that given by the lodging-house keeper in -Camden Town, who used to notice the gentleman from the area. But there -we were shut up tight again. The flyman recollected taking the lady to -the station, but no one saw her take her ticket; and there was I at a -standstill.</p> - -<p>"It is not above a fortnight ago, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, in -continuation, "that I struck on the scent again; not that I had -forgotten it, or hadn't taken the trouble to pull at anything which -I thought might be one of its threads when it came in my way. A -twelvemonth ago I was down at Leeds, after a light-hearted chap -who had forgotten his own name, and written his master's across the -back of a three-and-sixpenny bill-stamp; and I thought I'd take the -opportunity of looking in at Hodder the draper's, and ask whether -anything had been heard of Miss M. The firm hadn't heard of her, and -was rather grumpy about being asked; but I saw the girl from whom I -had got some information before--she, you recollect, sir, who had a -friend at Mivenson's in Oxford-street, and told me about E. M. being -there--and I asked her and her young man to tea, and set the pumps -agoing. But she was very bashful and shamefaced, and would not say a -word, though evidently she knew something; and it was only when she -had gone up to put her bonnet on, that I got out of the young man that -Emily Mitchell had been down there, and had been seen in the dusk of -the evening going up to the old cottage at Headingley, and carrying a -baby in her arms."</p> - -<p>"A baby!" cried Humphrey Statham.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Mr. Tatlow, "a female child a few weeks old. She was -going up to her aunt, no doubt, but the old woman was dead. When they -heard at Hodder's that Emily was about the place, and with a child -too, the firm was furious, and gave orders that none of their -people should speak to or have any communication with her; but this -girl--Mary Keith she's called; I made a note of her name, sir, -thinking you would like to know it--she found out where the poor -creature was, and offered to share her wages with her and the child to -save them from starvation."</p> - -<p>"Good God!" groaned Humphrey Statham; "was she in want, then?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty nearly destitute, sir," said Tatlow; "would have starved -probably, if it had not been for Mary Keith. She owned up to that -girl, sir, all her story, told her everything, except the name of the -child's father, and that she could not get out of her anyhow. She -spoke about you too, and said you were the only person in the world -who had really loved her, and that she had treated you shamefully. -Miss Keith wanted her to write to the child's father, and tell him how -badly off she was; but she said she would sooner die in the streets -than ask him for money. What she would do, she said, would be to go -to you--she wanted to see you once more before she died--and to -ask you to be a friend to her child! She knew you would do it, she -said--though she had behaved to you so badly--for the sake of old -days.</p> - -<p>"I sha'n't have to try you with very much more, sir," said Tatlow -kindly, as he heard a deep groan break from Humphrey Statham's lips, -and saw his head sink deeper on his breast. "Miss Keith advised E. M. -to write to you; but she said no--she wanted to look upon your face -again before she died, she said, and she knew that event was not far -off. So she parted with her old friend, taking a little money, just -enough to pay her fare up to town. She must have changed her mind -about that, from what I learned afterwards. I made inquiries here and -there for her in London in what I thought likely places, but I could -hear nothing of her, so the scent grew cold, and still my case was -incomplete. I settled it up at last, as I say, about a fortnight ago. -I had occasion to make some inquiries at Hendon workhouse about a -young man who was out on the tramp, and who, as I learned, had slept -there for a night or two in the previous week; and I was talking -matters over with the master, an affable kind of man, with more -common-sense than one usually finds in officials of his sort, who are -for the most part pig-headed and bad-tempered. The chap that I was -after had been shopman to a grocer in the City, and had run away with -his master's daughter, having all the time another wife; and this I -suppose led the conversation to such matters; and I, always with your -case floating in my head, asked him whether there were many instances -of foundlings and suchlike being left upon their hands? He said no; -that they had been very lucky--only had one since he had been master -there, and that one they had been fortunate enough to get rid of. How -was that, I asked him; what was the case? Case of a party"--and here -Mr. Tatlow referred to his note-book again--"found the winter before -last by Squire Mullins' hind lying against a haystack in the four-acre -meadow, pressing her baby to her breast--both of them half-frozen. She -was taken to the workhouse, but only lived two days, and never spoke -during that time. Her shoes were worn very thin, and she had parted -with most of her clothing, though what she kept had been good, and -still was decent. No wedding-ring, of course. One thing she hadn't -parted with; the master's wife saw the old woman try to crib it from -the dead body round whose neck it hung, and took it from her hand. It -was a tiny gold cross--yes, sir, I see you know it all now--inscribed -'H. to E., 30th March 1864'--the very trinket which you had described -to our people; and when I heard that, I knew I had tracked Emily -Mitchell home at last."</p> - -<p>Mr. Tatlow ceased speaking; but it was some minutes before Humphrey -Statham raised his head. When at length he looked up, there were -traces of tears on his cheeks, and his voice was broken with emotion -as he said, "The child--what about it? did it live?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," replied Tatlow, "the child lived, and fell very -comfortably upon its legs. It was a bright, pretty little creature, -and one day it attracted the notice of a lady who had no children of -her own, and, after some inquiries, persuaded her husband to adopt -it."</p> - -<p>"What is her name, and where does she live?" asked Mr. Statham.</p> - -<p>"She lives at Hendon, sir, and her name is Claxton. Mr. Claxton is, -oddly enough, a sleeping partner in the house of Mr. Calverley, whose -good lady first recommended E. M. to Mivenson's, as you may -recollect."</p> - -<p>There was silence for full ten minutes--a period which Mr. Tatlow -occupied in a deep consultation with his note-book, in looking out of -window, at the tips of his boots, at the wall in front of him; -anywhere rather than at the bowed head of Humphrey Statham, who -remained motionless, with his chin buried in his chest. Mr. Tatlow had -seen a good deal of suffering in his time, and as he noticed, without -apparently looking at the tremulous emotion of Mr. Statham's hands, -tremulous despite their closely-interlaced fingers, and the shudder -which from time to time ran through his massive frame, he knew what -silent anguish was being bravely undergone, and would on no account -have allowed the sufferer to imagine that his mental tortures were -either seen or understood. When Humphrey Statham at length raised his -head, he found his visitor intently watching the feeble gyrations of a -belated fly, and apparently perfectly astonished at hearing his name -mentioned.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Tatlow," said Humphrey, in a voice which, despite his exertions -to raise it, sounded low and muffled, "I am very much your debtor; -what I said at the commencement of our interview about the delay -which, as I imagined, had occurred in clearing-up this mystery, was -spoken in ignorance, and without any knowledge of the facts. I now see -the difficulties attendant upon the inquiry, and I am only astonished -that they should have been so successfully surmounted, and that you -should have been enabled to clear-up the case as perfectly as you have -done. That the result of your inquiries has been to arouse in me the -most painful memories, and to--and to reduce me in fact to the state -in which you see me--is no fault of yours. You have discharged your -duty with great ability and wondrous perseverance, and I have to thank -you more than all for the delicacy which you have shown during the -inquiry, and during the narration to me of its results."</p> - -<p>Mr. Tatlow bowed, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>"For the ordinary charges of the investigation," continued Humphrey -Statham, "your travelling expenses and suchlike, I settle, I believe, -with the people at Scotland-yard; but," he added, as he took his -cheque-book from the right-hand drawer of his desk, "I wish you to -accept for yourself this cheque for fifty pounds, together with my -hearty thanks."</p> - -<p>He filled-up the cheque, tore it from the book, and pushed it over to -the detective as he spoke, at the same time holding out his hand.</p> - -<p>Mr. Tatlow rose to his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed. It had -often been his good fortune to be well paid for his services, but to -be shaken hands with by a man in the position of Mr. Statham, had not -previously come in his way. He was confused for an instant, but -compromised the matter by gravely saluting after the military fashion -with his left hand, while he gave his right to his employer.</p> - -<p>"Proud, sir, and grateful," he said. "It has been a long case, though -not a particularly stiff one, and I think it has been worked clean out -to the end. I could have wished--but, however, that is neither here -nor there," said Mr. Tatlow, checking himself with a cough. "About the -child, sir; don't you wish any farther particulars about the child?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Humphrey Statham, who was fast relapsing into his moody -state; "no, nothing now, at all events. If I want any farther -information, I shall send to you, Tatlow, direct; you may depend upon -that. Now, once more, thanks, and good-bye."</P> -<br> - -<p>Half an hour had elapsed since Mr. Tatlow had taken his departure, and -still Humphrey Statham sat at his desk buried in profound reverie, his -chin resting on his breast, his arms plunged almost elbow-deep into -his pockets. At length he roused himself, locked away the cheque-book -which lay fluttering open before him, and passing his hand dreamily -through the fringe of hair on his temples, muttered to himself:</p> - -<p>"And so there is an end of it. To die numbed and frozen in a -workhouse-bed. To bear a child to a man for whom she ruined my life, -and who in his turn ruined hers. My Emily perishing with cold and -want! I shall meet him yet, I know I shall. Long before I heard of -this story, when I looked upon him only as a successful rival, who was -living with her in comfort and luxury, and laughing over my -disappointment, even then I felt convinced that the hour would come -when I should hold him by the throat and make him beg his miserable -life at my hands. Now, when I know that his treatment of her has been -worse even than his treatment of me, he will need to beg hard indeed -for mercy, if I once come across his path. Calverley, eh?" he -continued, after a moment's pause, and in a softer voice, "the husband -of the lady who has adopted the child, is a partner in Calverley's -house, Tatlow said. That is the house for which Tom Durham has gone -out as agent. How strangely things come about! for surely Mrs. -Calverley, doubtless the wife of the senior partner of the firm, is -the mother of my old friend Martin Garwood? What two totally different -men! Without doubt unacquainted with each other, and yet with this -curious link of association in my mind. Her child! Emily's child -within a couple of hours' ride! I could easily find some excuse to -introduce myself to this Mrs. Claxton, and to get a glimpse of the -girl--she is Emily's flesh and blood, and most probably would be like -her. I have half a mind to--No, I am not well enough for any extra -excitement or exertion, and the child, Tatlow says, is happy and -well-cared for; I can see her on my return--I can then manage the -introduction in a more proper and formal manner; I can hunt-up Martin -Gurwood, and through him and his mother I can obtain an introduction -to this partner in Calverley's house, and must trust to my own powers -of making myself agreeable to continue the acquaintance on a footing -of intimacy, which will give me constant opportunities of seeing -Emily's child. Now there is more than ever necessity to get out of -this at once. All clear now, except those two packets; one Tom -Durham's memorandum, which must be kept anyhow, so in it goes -into the safe. The other, the instructions for Tatlow--that can be -destroyed--no, there is no harm in keeping that for a little; one -never knows how things may turn out--in it goes too." And as he spoke -he placed the two packets in the drawer, closed and locked the safe. -"Collins!" he called; and the confidential clerk appeared. "You have -all that you want--the cheques, the duplicate key of the safe, the -pass-book?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Collins; "everything except your address."</p> - -<p>"By Jove," said Humphrey Statham, "I had forgotten that! even now I am -undecided. Tossing shall do it. Heads the Drumnovara snipe-bog; tails -the Tresco pilot-boat. Tails it is! the pilot-boat has won. So, -Collins, my address--never to be used except in most urgent -necessity--is, 'P.O., Tresco, Scilly,' left till called for. Now you -have my traps in the outer office; tell them to put them on a hansom -cab, and you will see no more of me for six weeks."</p> -<br> - -<p>As the four-fifty "galloper" for Exeter glided out of the Paddington -Station, Humphrey Statham was seated in it, leisurely cutting the -leaves of the evening paper which he had just purchased. The first -paragraph which met his eye ran as follows:</p> -<br> -<p class="center"> -"(REUTER'S TELEGRAM.)</p> -<p class="right">"<i>Gibraltar</i>.</p> -<br> - -<p>"The captain of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's steam-ship -Masillia, just arrived here, announces the supposed death, by -drowning, of a passenger named Durham, agent to Messrs. Calverley and -Company, of Mincing-lane, who was proceeding to Ceylon. The -unfortunate gentleman retired to bed on the first night of the -vessel's sailing from Southampton, and as he was never seen -afterwards, it is supposed he must have fallen overboard during the -night, when the Masillia was at anchor off Hurst Castle."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> -<h5>L'AMIE DE LA MAISON.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The breakfasts in Great Walpole-street, looked upon as meals, were -neither satisfactory nor satisfying. Of all social gatherings a -breakfast is perhaps the one most difficult to make agreeable to -yourself and your guests. There are men, at other periods of the day -bright, sociable, and chatty, who insist upon breakfasting by -themselves, who glower over their tea and toast, and growl audibly if -their solitude is broken in upon; there are women capable of -everything in the way of self-sacrifice and devotion except getting up -to breakfast. A breakfast after the Scotch fashion, with enormous -quantities of Finnan-haddy, chops, steaks, eggs and ham, jam and -marmalade, tea and coffee, is a good thing; so is a French breakfast -with two delicate cutlets, or a succulent filet, a savoury omelette, a -pint bottle of Nuits, a chasse, and a cigarette. But the morning meals -in Great Walpole-street were not after either of these fashions. After -the servants had risen from their knees, and shuffled out of the room -in Indian file at the conclusion of morning prayers, the butler -re-entered bearing a hissing silver urn, behind which Mrs. Calverley -took up her position, and proceeded to brew a tepid amber-coloured -fluid, which she afterwards dispensed to her guests. The footman had -followed the butler, bearing, in his turn, a dish containing four thin -greasy strips of bacon, laid out side by side in meek resignation, -with a portion of kidney keeping guard over them at either end. There -was a rack filled with dry toast, which looked and tasted like the -cover of an old Latin dictionary; there was a huge bread-platter, with -a scriptural text round its margin, and a huge bread-knife with a -scriptural text on its blade; and on the sideboard, far away in the -distance, was the shadowy outline of what had once been a ham, and a -mountain and a promontory of flesh, with the connecting link between -them almost cut away, representing what had once been a tongue. On two -or three occasions, shortly after Madame Du Tertre had first joined -the household, she mentioned to Mrs. Calverley that she was subject to -headaches, which were only to be gotten rid of by taking a sharp -half-hour's walk in the air immediately after breakfast; the fact -being that Pauline was simply starved, and that if she had been -followed she would have been found in the small room of Monsieur -Verrey's café in Regent-street engaged with a cutlet, a pint of -Beaune, and the <i>Siècle</i> newspaper. To John Calverley, also, these -gruesome repasts were most detestable, but he made up for his enforced -starvation by a substantial and early luncheon in the City.</p> - -<p>On the morning after Humphrey Statham's departure for Cornwall, the -breakfast-party was assembled in Great Walpole-street. But the host -was not among them. He had gone away to his ironworks in the North, as -he told his guest: "on his own vagaries," as his wife had phrased it, -with a defiant snort: and Mrs. Calverley, Madame Du Tertre, and Martin -Gurwood were gathered round the festive board. The two ladies were -sipping the doubtful tea, and nibbling the leathery toast, while Mr. -Garwood, who was an early riser, and who, before taking his morning -constitutional in Guelph Park, had solaced himself with a bowl of -bread-and-milk, had pushed aside his plate, and was reading out from -the <i>Times</i> such scraps of intelligence as he thought might prove -interesting. On a sudden he stopped, the aspect of his face growing -rather grave, as he said:</p> - -<p>"Here is some news, mother, which I am sure will prove distressing to -Mr. Calverley, even if his interests do not suffer from the event -which it records."</p> - -<p>"I can guess what it is," said Mrs. Calverley, in her thin acid voice; -"I have an intuitive idea of what has occurred. I always predicted it, -and I took care to let Mr. Calverley know my opinion--the Swartmoor -Iron works have failed?"</p> - -<p>"No, not so bad as that," said Mr. Gurwood, "nor, indeed, is it any -question of the Swartmoor Ironworks. I will tell you what is said, and -you will be able to judge for yourself how far Mr. Calverley may be -interested." And in the calm, measured tone habitual to him from -constant pulpit practice, Martin Gurwood read out the paragraph which -had so startled Humphrey Statham on the previous evening.</p> - -<p>When Martin Gurwood finished reading, Madame Du Tertre, who had -listened attentively, wheeled round in her chair and looked hard at -Mrs. Calverley. That lady's placidity was, however, perfectly -undisturbed. With her thin bony hand she still continued her -employment of arranging into fantastic shapes the crumbs on the -table-cloth, nor did she seem inclined to speak until Pauline said:</p> - -<p>"To me this seems a sad and terrible calamity. If I, knowing nothing -of this unfortunate gentleman, am grieved at what I hear, surely you, -madame, to whom he was doubtless well known, must feel the shock -acutely."</p> - -<p>"I am glad to say," said Mrs. Calverley coldly, "that I am not called -upon to exhibit any emotion in the present instance. So little does -Mr. Calverley think fit to acquaint me with the details of his -business, that I was not aware that it was in contemplation to -establish an agency at Ceylon, nor did I ever hear of the name of the -person who, doubtless by his own imprudence, seems to have lost his -life."</p> - -<p>"You never saw Mr.--Mr.--how is he called, Monsieur Gurwood?"</p> - -<p>"Durham is the name given here," said Martin, referring to the -newspaper.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you never saw Mr. Durham, madame?"</p> - -<p>"I never saw him; I never even heard Mr. Calverley mention his name."</p> - -<p>"Poor man, poor man!" murmured Madame Du Tertre with downcast eyes; -"lost so suddenly, as your Shakespeare says--'sent to his account with -all his imperfections on his head.' It is terrible to think of; is it -not Monsieur Martin?"</p> - -<p>"To be cut off with our sins yet inexpiated," said Martin Gurwood, not -meeting the searching glance riveted upon him, "is, as you say, Madame -Du Tertre, a terrible thing. Let us trust this unfortunate man was not -wholly unprepared."</p> - -<p>"If he were a friend of Mr. Calverley's," hissed the lady at the end -of the table, "and he must have been to have been placed in a position -of trust, it is, I should say, most improbable that he was fitted for -the sudden change."</p> - -<p>That morning Madame Du Tertre, although her breakfast had been of the -scantiest, did not find it necessary to repair to Verrey's. When the -party broke up she retired to her room, took the precaution of locking -the door, and having something to think out, at once adopted her old -resource of walking up and down.</p> - -<p>She said to herself: "The news has arrived, and just at the time that -I expected it. He has been bold, and everything has turned out exactly -as he could have wished. People will speak kindly of him and mourn -over his fate, while he is far away and living happily, and laughing -in his sleeve at the fools whose compassion he evokes. What would I -give to be there with him on the same terms as those of the old days! -I hate this dull British life, this ghastly house, these people, -precise, exact, and terrible. I loathe the state of formality in which -I live, the restraint and reticence I am obliged to observe! What is -it to me to ride in a carriage by the side of that puppet downstairs, -to sit in the huge dull rooms, to be waited upon by the silent solemn -servants?" And her eyes blazed with fire as she sang in a soft low -voice:</p> - -<p> -"Les gueux, les gueux -Sont les gens heureux; -Ils s'aiment entre eux. -Vivent les gueux!"</p> - -<p> -As she ceased singing she stopped suddenly in her walk, and said, -"What a fool I am to think of such things, to dream of what might have -been, when all my hope and desire is to destroy what is, to discover -the scene of Tom Durham's retreat, and to drive him from the enchanted -land where he and she are now residing! And this can only be done by -steady continuance in my present life, by passive endurance, by -never-flagging energy and perpetual observation. Tiens! Have I not -done some good this morning, even in listening to the bêtise talk of -that silly woman and her sombre son? She had never seen Tom Durham," -she said, "had never heard of him, he has never been brought to the -house: this, then, gives colour to all that I have suspected. It is, -as I imagined, through the influence of the old man Claxton that Tom -was nominated as agent of the house of Calverley. Mr. Calverley -himself probably knows nothing of him, or he would most assuredly have -mentioned the name to his wife, have asked him to dinner, after the -English fashion, before sending him out to such a position. But no, -his very name is unknown to her, and it is evident that he is the sole -protégé of Monsieur Claxton--Claxton, from whom the pale-faced woman -who is his wife, his mistress--what do I know or care--obtained the -money with which Tom Durham thought to buy my silence and his freedom. -Not yet, my dear friend, not yet! The game between us promises to be -long, and to play it properly with a chance of success will require -all my brains and all my patience. But the cards are already beginning -to get shuffled into their places, and the luck has already declared -on my side."</p> - -<p>A few mornings afterwards Mrs. Calverley, on coming down to breakfast, -held an open paper in her hand; laying it on the table and pointing at -it with her bony finger, when the servants had left the room, she -said, "I have an intimation here that Mr. Calverley will return this -evening. He has not thought fit to write to me, but a telegram has -been received from him at the office; and the head-clerk, who, I am -thankful to say, still preserves some notion of what is due to me, has -forwarded the information."</p> - -<p>"Is not this return somewhat unexpected?" asked Pauline, looking -inquisitively at her hostess.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Calverley's return is never either unexpected or expected by me," -said the lady; "he is immersed in business, which I trust may prove as -profitable as he expects, though in my father's time--"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," interrupted Martin Gurwood, cutting in to prevent the -repetition of that wail over the decadence of the ancient firm which -he had heard a thousand times, "perhaps Mr. Calverley's return has on -this occasion been hastened by the news of the loss of his agent, -which I read out to you the other day. There is more about it in the -paper this morning."</p> - -<p>"More! What more?" cried Pauline, eagerly.</p> - -<p>"Nothing satisfactory, I am sorry to say. The body has not been found, -nor is there any credible account of how the accident happened; the -farther news is contained in a letter from one of the passengers. It -seems that this unfortunate gentleman, Mr. Durham, had, even during -the short time which he was on board the ship, succeeded in making -himself very popular with the passengers. He had talked to some of -them of the importance of the position which he was going out to fill, -of his devotion to business and to his employer; and it is agreed on -all sides that the well-known firm of which he was the agent will find -it difficult to replace him, so zealous and so interested in their -behalf did he show himself. He was one of the last who retired to -rest; and when in the morning he did not put in an appearance, nothing -was thought of it, as it was imagined--not that he had succumbed to -sea-sickness, as he had described himself as an old sailor, who had -made many voyages--but that he was fatigued by the exertions of the -previous day. Late in the evening, as nothing had been heard of him, -the captain resolved to send the steward to his cabin; and the man -returned with the report that the door was unlocked, the berth -unoccupied, and Mr. Durham not to be found. An inquiry was at once set -on foot, and a search made throughout the ship; but without any -result. The only idea that could be arrived at was, that, finding the -heat oppressive, or being unable to sleep, he made his way to the -deck, and, in the darkness of the night, had missed his footing and -fallen overboard. Against this supposition was the fact that Mr. -Durham was not in the least the worse for liquor when last seen, and -that neither the officers nor the men on duty throughout the night had -heard any splash in the water or any cry for help. The one thing -certain was, that the man was gone; and all that could now be done was -to transship his baggage at Gibraltar, that it might be returned to -England, and to make public the circumstances for the information of -his friends."</p> - -<p>"It seems to me," said Martin Gurwood, as he finished reading, "that -unless the drowning of this poor man had actually been witnessed, -nothing could be much clearer. He is seen to retire to rest in the -night; he is never heard of again; there is no reason why he should -attempt self-destruction; on the contrary, he is represented as -glorying in the position to which he had been appointed, and full of -life, health, and spirits."</p> - -<p>"There is one point," said Mrs. Calverley, "to which I think exception -may be taken, and that is, that he was sober. These sort of persons -have, I am given to understand, a great tendency to drink and vice of -every description, and the fact that he was probably a boon companion -of Mr. Calverley's, and on that account appointed to this agency, -makes me think it more than likely that he had a private store of -liquor, and was drowned when in a state of intoxication."</p> - -<p>"There is nothing in the evidence which has been made public," said -Martin Gurwood, in a hard caustic tone, "to warrant any supposition of -that kind. In any case, it is not for us to judge the dead and--"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," said Pauline, interposing, to avert the storm which she saw -gathering in Mrs. Calverley's knitted brows, "perhaps when Mr. -Calverley returns to-night, he will be able to give us some -information on the subject. A man so trusted, and appointed to such a -position, must naturally be well known to his employer."</p> - -<p>The lamps were lit in the drawing-room, and the solemn servants -were handing round the tea, when a cab rattled up to the door, -and immediately afterwards John Calverley, enveloped in his -travelling-coat and many wrappers, burst into the apartment. He made -his way to his wife, who was seated at the Berlin-wool frame, on which -the Jael and Sisera had been supplanted by a new and equally -interesting subject, and bending down offered her a salute, which she -received on the tip of her ear; he shook hands heartily with Martin -Garwood, politely with Pauline, and then discarding his outer -garments, planted himself in the middle of the room, smiling -pleasantly, and inquired, "Well, what's the news?"</p> - -<p>"There is no news here," said Mrs. Calverley, looking across the top -of the Berlin-wool frame with stony glance; "those who have been -careering about the country are most likely to gather light and -frivolous gossip. Do you desire any refreshment, Mr. Calverley?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you, my dear," said John. "I had dinner at six o'clock, at -Peterborough--swallowed it standing--cold meat, roll, glass of ale. -You know the sort of thing, Martin--hurried, but not bad, you -know--not bad."</p> - -<p>"But after such a slight refreshment, Monsieur Calverley," said -Pauline, rising and going towards him, "you would surely like some -tea?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you, Madame Du Tertre; no tea for me. I will have a -little--a little something hot later on, perhaps--and you too, Martin, -eh?--no, I forgot, you are no good at that sort of thing. And so," he -added, turning to his wife, "you have, you say, no news?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Calverley does herself injustice in saying any such thing," said -Pauline, interposing; "the interests of the husband are the interests -of the wife, and, when it is permitted, of the wife's friends; and we -have all been distressed beyond measure to hear of the sad fate which -has befallen your trusted agent."</p> - -<p>"Eh," said John Calverley, looking at her blankly, "my trusted agent? -I don't understand you."</p> - -<p>"These celebrated Swartmoor Ironworks are not beyond the reach of the -post-office, I presume?" said Mrs. Calverley, with a vicious chuckle.</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," said John.</p> - -<p>"And telegrams occasionally find their way there, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Undoubtedly."</p> - -<p>"How is it, then, Mr. Calverley, that you have not heard what has been -in all the newspapers, that some man named Durham, calling himself -your agent, has been drowned on his way to India, where he was going -in your employ?"</p> - -<p>"Drowned!" said John Calverley, turning very pale, "Tom Durham -drowned! Is it possible?"</p> - -<p>"Not merely possible, but strictly true," said his wife. "And what I -want to know is, how is it that you, buried down at your Swartmoors, -or whatever you call them, have not heard of it before?"</p> - -<p>"It is precisely because I was buried down there that the news failed -to reach me. When I am at the ironworks I have so short a time at my -disposal that I never look at the newspapers, and the people at -Mincing-lane have strict instructions never to communicate with me by -letter or telegram except in the most pressing cases; and Mr. -Jeffreys, I imagine, with that shrewdness which distinguishes him, saw -that the reception of such news as this would only distress me, while -I could be of no possible assistance, and so wisely kept it back until -my return."</p> - -<p>"I am sure I don't see why you should be so distressed because one of -your clerks got drunk and fell overboard," said Mrs. Calverley. "I -know that in my father's time--"</p> - -<p>"This Mr. Durham must have been an especially gifted man, I suppose, -or you would scarcely have appointed him to such an important berth? -Was it not so?" asked Pauline.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mr. Calverley, hesitating. "Tom Durham was a smart fellow -enough."</p> - -<p>"What I told you," said Mrs. Calverley, looking round. "A smart -fellow, indeed! but not company for his employer's wife, whatever he -may have been for--"</p> - -<p>"He was a man whom I knew but little of Jane," said John Calverley, -with a certain amount of sternness in his voice; "but he was -introduced to me by a person of whom I have the highest opinion, and -whom I wished to serve. On this recommendation I took Mr. Durham, and -the little I saw of him was certainly in favour of his zeal and -brightness. Now, if you please, we will change the conversation."</p> - -<p>That night, again, Madame Du Tertre might have been seen pacing her -room. "The more I see of these people," she said to herself, "the more -I learn of the events with which my life is bound up, so much the more -am I convinced that my first theory was the right one. This Monsieur -Calverley, the master of this house--what was his reason for being -annoyed, contrarié, as he evidently was, at being questioned about -Durham? Simply because he himself knew nothing about him, and could -not truthfully reply to the pestering inquiries of that anatomie -vivante, his wife, as to who he was, and why he had not been presented -to her, the reigning queen of the great firm. Was I not right there in -my anticipations? 'He was introduced to me,' he said, 'by a person of -whom I have the highest opinion, and whom I wished to serve;' that -person, without doubt, was Claxton--Claxton, the old man, who, in his -turn, was the slave of the pale-faced woman, whom Tom Durham had -befooled! A bon chat, bon rat! They are well suited, these others, and -Messrs. Calverley and Claxton are the dupes, though perhaps"--and she -stopped pondering, with knitted brow--"Mr. Calverley knows all, or -rather half, and is helping his friend and partner in the matter. I -will take advantage of the first opportunity to press this subject -farther home with Monsieur Calverley, who is a sufficiently simple bon -homme; and perhaps I may learn something that may be useful to me from -him."</p> - -<p>The opportunity which Pauline sought occurred sooner than she -expected. On the very next evening, Martin Gurwood being away from -home, attending some public meeting on a religious question, and Mrs. -Calverley being detained in her room finishing some letters which she -was anxious to dispatch, Pauline found herself in the drawing-room -before dinner, with her host as her sole companion.</p> - -<p>When she entered she saw that Mr. Calverley had the newspaper in his -hand, but his eyes were half closed and his head was nodding -desperately. "You are fatigued, monsieur, by the toils of the day," she -said. "I fear I interrupted you?"</p> - -<p>"No," said John Calverley, jumping up, "not at all, Madame Du Tertre; -I was having just forty Winks, as we say in English; but I am quite -refreshed and all right now, and am very glad to see you."</p> - -<p>"It must be hard work for you, having all the responsibility of that -great establishment in the City on your shoulders."</p> - -<p>"Well, you see, Madame Du Tertre," said John, with a pleasant smile, -"the fact is I am not so young as I used to be, and though I work no -more, indeed considerably less, I find myself more tired at the end of -the day."</p> - -<p>"Ah, monsieur," said Pauline, "that is the great difference between -the French and English commerce, as it appears to me. In France our -négociants have not merely trusted clerks such as you have here, but -they have partners who enjoy their utmost confidence, who are as -themselves, in fact, in all matters of their business."</p> - -<p>"Yes, madame, but that is not confined to France; we have exactly the -same thing in England. My house is Calverley and Co.; Co. stands for -'company,' vous savvy," said John, with a great dash at airing his -French.</p> - -<p>"Ah, you have partners?" asked Pauline. "Well, no, not exactly," said -John evasively, looking over her bead, and rattling the keys in his -trousers-pockets.</p> - -<p>"I think I heard of one Monsieur Claxton."</p> - -<p>"Eh," said John, looking at her disconcertedly, "Claxton, eh? O yes, -of course."</p> - -<p>"And yet it is strange that, intimate, lié, bound up as this Monsieur -Claxton must be with you in your affairs, you have never brought him -to this house--Madame Calverley has never seen him. I should like to -see this Monsieur Claxton, do you know? I should--"</p> - -<p>But John Calverley stepped hurriedly forward and laid his hand upon -her arm. "Stay, for God's sake," he said, with an expression of terror -in every feature; "I hear Mrs. Calverley's step on the stairs. Do not -mention Mr. Claxton's name in this house; I will tell you why some -other time--only--don't mention it!"</p> - -<p>"I understand," said Pauline quietly; and when Mrs. Calverley entered -the room, she found her guest deeply absorbed in the photographic -album.</p> - -<p>That night the party broke up early. Mr. Calverley, though he used -every means in his power to disguise the agitation into which his -conversation with Pauline had thrown him, was absent and embarrassed; -while Pauline herself was so occupied in thought over what had -occurred, and so desirous to be alone, in order that she might have -the opportunity for full reflection, that she did not, as usual, -encourage her hostess in the small and spiteful talk in which that -lady delighted, and none were sorry when the clock, striking ten, gave -them an excuse for an adjournment.</p> - -<p>"Allons donc," said Pauline, when she had once more regained her own -chamber, "I have made a great success to-night, by mere chance-work -too, arising from my keeping my eyes and ears always open. See now! It -is evident, from some cause or other--why, I cannot at present -comprehend--that this man, Monsieur Calverley, is frightened to death -lest his wife should see his partner! What does it matter to me, the -why or the wherefore? The mere fact of its being so is sufficient to -give me power over him. He is no fool; he sees the influence which I -have already acquired over Mrs. Calverley, and he knows that were I -just to drop a hint to that querulous being, that jealous wretch, she -would insist on being made known to Claxton, and having all the -business transactions between them explained to her. Threaten Monsieur -Calverley with that, and I can obtain from him what I will, can be put -on Tom Durham's track, and then left to myself to work out my revenge -in my own way! Ah, Monsieur and Madame Mogg, of Poland-street, how can -I ever be sufficiently grateful for the chance which sent me to lodge -in your mansarde, and first gave me the idea of making the -acquaintance of the head of the great firm of Calverley and Company!"</p> - -<p>The next morning, when, after breakfast, and before starting for the -City, Mr. Calverley went into the dull square apartment behind the -dining-room, dimly lighted by a window, overlooking the leads, which -he called his study, where some score of unreadable books lay half -reclining against each other on shelves, but the most used objects in -which were a hat and clothes-brush, some walking-canes and umbrellas, -he was surprised to find himself closely followed by Madame Du Tertre; -more surprised when that lady closed the door quietly, and turning to -him said, with meaning:</p> - -<p>"Now, monsieur, five words with you."</p> - -<p>"Certainly, madame," said John very much taken aback; "but is not this -rather an odd place--would not Mrs. Calverley think--?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, bah," said Pauline, with a shrug and a gesture very much more -reminiscent of the dame du comptoir than of the dame de compagnie. -"Mrs. Calverley has gone down-stairs to battle with those wretched -servants, and she is, as you know, safe to be there for half an hour. -What I have to say will not take ten minutes--shall I speak?"</p> - -<p>John bowed in silence, looking at the same time anxiously towards the -study-door.</p> - -<p>"You do not know much of me, Monsieur Calverley, but you will before I -have done. I am at present--and am, I fancy, likely to remain--an -inmate of your house; I have established myself in Mrs. Calverley's -good graces, and have, as you must know very well, a certain amount of -influence with her; but it was you to whom I made my original appeal; -it is you whom I wish to retain as my friend."</p> - -<p>John Calverley, with flushing cheeks, and constantly-recurring glance -towards the door, said, "that he was very proud, and that if he only -knew what Madame Du Tertre desired--"</p> - -<p>"You shall know at once, Monsieur Calverley: I want you to accept me -as your friend, and to prove that you do so by giving me your -confidence."</p> - -<p>John Calverley started.</p> - -<p>"Yes, your confidence," continued Pauline. "I have talent and energy, -and, when I am trusted, could prove myself a friend worth having; but -I am too proud to accept half-confidences, and where no trust is -reposed in me I am apt to ally myself with the opposite faction. Why -not trust in me, Monsieur Calverley--why not tell me all?"</p> - -<p>"All--what all, madame?"</p> - -<p>"About your partner, Monsieur Claxton, and the reason why you do not -bring him--"</p> - -<p>"Hush! pray be silent, I implore you!" said John Calverley, stepping -towards her and taking both her hands in his. "I cannot imagine," he -said, after a moment's pause, "what interest my business affairs can -have for you; but since you seem to wish it, you shall know them all; -only not here and not now."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Pauline, with provoking calmness, '"in the City, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; at my office in Mincing-lane."</p> - -<p>"And when?"</p> - -<p>"To-morrow week, at four o'clock; come down there then, and I will -tell you all you wish to know."</p> - -<p>"Right," said Pauline, slipping out of the room in an instant. And -before John Calverley let himself out at the street-door, he heard the -drawing-room piano ringing out the grand march from the <i>Prophète</i> -under her skilful hands.</p> - -<p> -Three days afterwards a man came up from the office with a letter for -Mrs. Calverley. It was from her husband, stating he had a telegram -calling him down to Swartmoor at once, and requesting that his -portmanteau might be packed and given to the messenger. This worthy -was seen and interrogated by the mistress of the house. "He knew -nothing about the telegram," he said, "but when his master gave him -the letter he looked bothered and dazed-like."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Calverley shook her head, and opined that her prophecies anent -the downfall of the Swartmoor Ironworks were about to be realised. But -Pauline did not seem to be much put out at the news. "It is important, -doubtless," she said to herself, "and he must go; but he will return -in time to keep his appointment with me."</p> - -<p>The day arrived and the hour, and Pauline was punctual to her -appointment, but Mr. Calverley had not arrived, though one of the -clerks said he had left word that it was probable he might return on -that day. That was enough for Pauline; she would await his arrival.</p> - -<p>An hour passed.</p> - -<p>Then there was a great tearing up and down stairs, and hurrying to and -fro, and presently, when a white-faced clerk came in to get his hat, -he stared to see her there. He had forgotten her, though it was he who -had ushered her into the waiting-room.</p> - -<p>"There was no use in her remaining there any longer," he said; "the -head-clerk, Mr. Jeffreys, had been sent for to Great Walpole-street; -and though nobody knew anything positive, everybody felt that -something dreadful had occurred."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> -<h5>"When Doctors Disagree."</h5> -<br> - -<p>When Alice first heard the news of Tom Durham's death, she was deeply -and seriously grieved. Not that she had seen much of her half-brother -at any period of her life, not that there was any special bond of -sympathy between them, nor that the shifty, thriftless ne'er-do-well -possessed any qualities likely to find much favour with a person of -Alice's uprightness and rectitude of conduct. But the girl could not -forget the old days when Tom, as a big strong lad, just returned from -his first rough introduction to the world, would take her, a little -delicate mite, and carry her aloft on his shoulders round the garden, -and even deprive himself of the huge pipe and the strong tobacco which -he took such pride in smoking, because the smell was offensive to her. -She could not forget that whenever he returned from his wanderings, -short as his stay in England might be, he made a point of coming to -see her, always bringing some little present, some quaint bit of -foreign art-manufacture, which he knew Would please her fancy; and -though his purse was generally meagrely stocked, always asking her -whether she was in want of money, and offering to share its contents -with her. More vividly than all she recalled to mind his softness of -manner and gentleness of tone, on the occasion of their last parting; -she recollected how he had clasped her to his breast at the station, -and how she had seen the tears falling down his cheeks as the train -moved away; she remembered his very words: "I am not going to be -sentimental, it isn't in my line; but I think I like you better than -anybody else in the world, though I didn't take to you much at first." -And again: "So I love you, and I leave you with regret." Poor Tom, -poor dear Torn! such was the theme of Alice's daily reflection, -invariably ending in her breaking down and comforting herself with a -good cry.</p> - -<p>But, in addition to the loss of her brother, Alice Claxton had great -cause for anxiety and mental disturbance. John had returned from his -last business tour weary, dispirited, and obviously very much out of -health. The brightness had faded from his blue eyes, the lines round -them and his mouth seemed to have doubled both in number and depth, -his stoop was considerably increased, and instead of his frank hearty -bearing, he crept about, when he thought he was unobserved, with -dawdling footsteps, and with an air of lassitude pervading his every -movement. He strove his best to disguise his condition from Alice; he -struggled hard to talk to her in his old cheerful way, to take -interest in the details of her management of the house and garden, to -hear little Bell her lessons, and to play about with the child on days -when the weather rendered it possible for him to go into the -shrubbery. But even during the time when Alice was talking or reading -to him, or when he was romping with the child, he would suddenly -subside into a kind of half-dazed state, his eyes staring blankly -before him, his hands dropped listlessly by his side; he would not -reply until he had been spoken to twice or thrice, and would then look -up as though he had either not heard or not understood the question -addressed to him. If it was painful to Alice to see her husband in -that state, it was far more distressing to observe his struggles to -recover his consciousness, and his attempts at being more like his old -self. In his endeavours to talk and laugh, to rally his young wife -after his usual fashion, and to comprehend and be interested in the -playful babble of the child, there was a ghastly galvanised vivacity -most painful to behold.</p> - -<p>Watching her husband day by day with the greatest interest and care, -studying him so closely that she was enabled to anticipate his various -changes of manner, and almost to foretell the next expression of his -face, Alice Claxton became convinced that there was something -seriously the matter with him, and it was her duty, whether he wished -it or not, to call in medical advice. Mr. Broadbent, the village -apothecary, had had a great deal of experience, and was invariably -spoken of as a clever, kind-hearted man. When the Claxtons first -established themselves at Rose Cottage, the old-fashioned residents in -the neighbourhood duly called and left their cards; but after John had -consulted with Alice, telling her that he left her to do entirely as -she thought fit in the matter, but that for his own part he had no -desire to commence a new series of acquaintance, it was agreed between -them that it would be sufficient to deliver cards in return, and all -farther attempts at social intercourse were politely put aside and -ignored. In such a village as Hendon was a few years ago, it was, -however, impossible without actual rudeness to avoid the acquaintance -of the vicar and the doctor, and consequently the Reverend Mr. -Tomlinson and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Broadbent, were on visiting -terms at Rose Cottage.</p> - -<p>Visiting terms, so far as the Tomlinsons were concerned, meant an -interchange of dinners twice in the year; but Mr. Broadbent was seen, -by Mrs. Claxton at least, far more frequently. The story of little -Bell's adoption had got wind throughout the neighbourhood, and the -spinsters and the gushing young ladies, who thought it "so romantic," -unable to effect an entrance for themselves into the enchanted bower, -anxiously sought information from Mr. Broadbent, who was, as they -knew, a privileged person. The apothecary was by no means backward in -purveying gossip for the edification of his fair hearers, and his -eulogies of Mrs. Claxton's good looks, and his detailed descriptions -of little Bell's infantile maladies, were received with much delight -at nearly all the tea-tables in the neighbourhood. Whether John -Claxton had heard of this, whether he had taken any personal dislike -to Mr. Broadbent, or whether it was merely owing to his natural -shyness and reserve, that he absented himself from the room on nearly -every occasion of the doctor's visits, Alice could not tell; but such -was the case. When they did meet, they talked politely, and seemed on -the best of terms; but John seemed to take care that their meetings -should be as few as possible.</p> - -<p>What was to be done? John had now been home three days, and was -visibly worse than on his arrival. Alice had spoken to him once or -twice, seriously imploring him to tell her what was the matter with -him, but had been received the first time with a half-laugh, the -second time with a grave frown. He was quite well, he said, quite -well, so far as his bodily health was concerned; a little worried, -he allowed; business worries, which a woman could not understand, -matters connected with the firm which gave him a certain amount of -anxiety--nothing more. Alice thought that this was not the whole -truth, and that John, in his love for her, and desire to spare her any -grief, had made light of what was really serious suffering. The more -she thought over it, the more anxious and alarmed she became, and at -length, when on the fourth morning after John's return, she had peeped -into the little library and seen her husband sitting there at the -window, not heeding the glorious prospect before him, not heeding the -book which lay upon his lap, but lying backwards in his chair, with -his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes closed, his complexion a -dull sodden red, she determined on at once sending for Mr. Broadbent, -without saying a word to John about it. An excuse could easily be -found; little Bell had a cold and was slightly feverish, and the -doctor had been sent for to prescribe for her; and though he could see -Mr. Claxton and have a talk with him, Alice would take care that John -should not suspect that he was the object of Mr. Broadbent's visit.</p> - -<p>Mr. Broadbent came, pleasant and chatty at first, imagining he had -been sent for to see the little girl in one of the ordinary illnesses -of childhood; graver and much less voluble as, on their way up to the -nursery, Mrs. Claxton confided to him her real object in requesting -his presence. Little Bell duly visited, the conspiring pair came down -stairs again, and Alice going first, opened the door and discovered -Mr. Claxton in the attitude in which she had last seen him, fast -asleep and breathing heavily. He roused himself at the noise on their -entrance, rubbed his eyes, and rose wearily to his feet, covered with -confusion as soon as he made out that Alice had a companion.</p> - -<p>"Well, John," cried Alice, with a well-feigned liveliness, "you were -asleep, I declare! See, here is Mr. Broadbent come to shake hands with -you. He was good enough to come round and look at little Bell, who has -a bad cold, poor child, and a little flushing in the skin, which -frightened me; but Mr. Broadbent says it's nothing."</p> - -<p>"Nothing at all, Mr. Claxton, take my word for it," said the doctor, -who had by this time advanced into the room, and by a little skilful -manoeuvring had got his back to the window, while he had turned John -Claxton, whose hand he held, with his face to the light; "nothing at -all, the merest nothing; but ladies, as you know, are even frightened -at that, particularly where little ones are concerned. Well, Mr. -Claxton," continued the doctor, who was a big jolly man, with a red -face, a pair of black bushy whiskers, and a deep voice, "and how do -you find yourself, sir?"</p> - -<p>"I am quite well, thank you, doctor," said John Claxton, plucking up -and striving to do his best; "I may say quite well."</p> - -<p>"Lucky man not to find all your travelling knock you about," said -the doctor. "I have known several men--commercials--who say they -cannot stand the railway half so well as they used to do the old -coaches--shakes them, jars them altogether. By the way, there is -renewed talk about our having a railway here. Have you heard anything -about it?"</p> - -<p>"Not I," said John Claxton, "and I fervently hope it will not come in -my time. I am content with old Davis's coach."</p> - -<p>"Ah," said the doctor with a laugh, "you must find old Davis's coach -rather a contrast to some of the railways you are in the habit of -scouring the country in, both in regard to speed and comfort. However, -I must be off; glad to see you looking so well. Good-morning. Now, -Mrs. Claxton," added the doctor, as he shook hands with John, "if you -will just come with me, I should like to look at that last -prescription I wrote for the little lady upstairs."</p> - -<p>No sooner were they in the dining-room, with the door closed behind -them, than Alice laid her hand upon the doctor's arm, and looked up -into his face pale and eager with anxiety.</p> - -<p>"Well," she said, "how does he look? what do you think? Tell me at -once."</p> - -<p>"It is impossible, my dear Mrs. Claxton," said the good-natured -apothecary, looking at her kindly, and speaking in a softened voice; -"it is impossible for me to judge of Mr. Claxton's state from a mere -cursory glance and casual talk; but I am bound to say that, from what -I could observe, I fancy he must be considerably out of health."</p> - -<p>"So I thought," said Alice; "so I feared." And her tears fell fast.</p> - -<p>"You must not give way, my dear madam," said Mr. Broadbent. "What I -say may be entirely unfounded. I am, recollect, only giving you my -impression after a conversation with your husband, in which, at your -express wish, I refrained from asking him anything about himself."</p> - -<p>"If I could manage to persuade him to see you, would you come in this -afternoon or tomorrow morning, Mr. Broadbent?"</p> - -<p>"I would, of course, do anything you wished; but as Mr. Claxton has -never hitherto done me the honour to consult me professionally, and as -it seems to me to be a case the diagnosis of which should be very -carefully gone into, I would recommend that he should consult some -physician of eminence. Possibly he knows such a one."</p> - -<p>"No," said Alice, "I have never heard him mention any physician since -our marriage."</p> - -<p>"If that be the case, I would strongly advise you to call in Doctor -Houghton. He is a man of the greatest eminence; and, as it happens, I -see him every day just now, as we have a regular consultation at the -Rookery--you know, the large place on the other side of the village, -where poor Mr. Piggott is lying dangerously ill. If you like, I will -mention the case to Doctor Haughton when I see him to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Mr. Broadbent; I am deeply obliged to you, but I must -speak to John first. I should not like to do anything without his -knowledge. I will speak to him this afternoon, and send a note round -to you in the evening." And Mr. Broadbent, much graver and much less -boisterous than usual, took his departure.</p> - -<p>John Claxton remained pretty much in the same dozing kind of state -during the day. He came in to luncheon, and made an effort to talk -cheerfully upon the contents of the newspaper and suchlike topics, and -afterwards he had a romp in the hall with little Bell, the weather -being too raw for the child to go out of doors. But two or three turns -at the battledore and shuttlecock, two or three spinnings of the big -humming-top, two or three hidings behind the greatcoats, seemed to be -enough for him, and he rang for the nurse to take the child to her -room just as the little one was beginning to enter into the sport of -the various games. Alice had been in and out through the hall during -the pastime, and saw the child go quietly off, bearing her -disappointment bravely, and saw her husband turn listlessly into the -library, his hands buried in the pockets of his shooting-jacket and -his head sunk upon his breast. Poor little Alice! Her life for the -last few years had been so bright and so full of sunshine; her whole -being was so bound up with that of her kind thoughtful husband, who -had taken her from almost penial drudgery and made her the star and -idol of his existence, that when she saw him fighting bravely against -the illness which was bearing him down, and ever striving to hide it -from her, she could not make head against the trouble, but retired -into a corner of her pretty little drawing-room and wept bitterly.</p> - -<p>Then when the fit of weeping was over, she roused herself; her brain -cleared and her determination renewed. "It is impossible that this can -go on," she said to herself; "I have a part and share in John's life -now; it belongs to me almost as much as to him, and it is my duty to -see that it is not endangered. He will be angry, I know, but I must -bear his anger. After what Mr. Broadbent said this morning, it is -impossible that I can allow matters to remain in their present state -without acting upon the advice which he gave me; and be the result -what it may, I will do so."</p> - -<p>The autumn twilight had fallen upon the garden, wrapping it in its dim -grey folds, the heavy mists were beginning to rise from the damp -earth, and the whole aspect outside was dreary and chilly. But when -Alice entered the little library she found John Claxton standing at -the window, with his head lying against the pane, and apparently rapt -in the contemplation of the cheerless landscape.</p> - -<p>"John," she said, creeping close to him, and laying her hand upon his -shoulder, "John."</p> - -<p>"Yes, dear," he replied, passing his arm round her and drawing her -closely to him. "You wondered what had become of me; you came to -reproach me for leaving you so long to yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No, John, not that," said Alice; "there is noting in the wide world -for which I have to reproach you; there has been nothing since you -first made me mistress of your house."</p> - -<p>"And of my heart, Alice; don't forget that," said her husband, -tenderly; "of my heart."</p> - -<p>"And of your heart," she repeated. "But when you gave me that position -you expected me to take with it its responsibilities as well as its -happiness, did you not? You did not bring me here to be merely a toy -or a plaything--no,--I don't mean that exactly; I mean not merely to -be something for your petting and your amusement--you meant me to be -your wife, John; to share with you your troubles and anxieties, and to -have a voice of my own, a very little one, in the regulation of all -things in which you were concerned?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, Alice," said her husband; "have I not shown this?"</p> - -<p>"Always before, John, always up to within the last few days. And if -you are not doing so now, it is, I know, from no lack of love, but -rather out of care and thoughtfulness for me."</p> - -<p>"Why, Alice," said John, with a struggle to revive his old playful -manner, "what is the matter with you? How grave the little woman is -to-night."</p> - -<p>"Yes, John; I am grave, because I know you are ill, and that you are -striving to hide it from me lest I should be alarmed. That is not the -way it should be, John; you know we swore to be loyal to each other in -sickness as well as in health, and it would be my pride as well as my -duty to take up my place by you in sickness and be your nurse."</p> - -<p>"I want no nurse, little woman," he said, bending tenderly over her. -"As I told you this morning, I am quite well only a little--" And then -his brain reeled, and his legs tottered beneath him, and had he not -caught hold of the chair standing at his elbow, he would have fallen -to the ground.</p> - -<p>"You are ill, John; there is the proof," Alice cried, after he had -seated himself and thrown himself heavily back in the chair. She knelt -by his side, bathing his forehead with eau-de-cologne. "You are ill, -and must be attended to at once. Now listen; do you understand me?"</p> - -<p>A feeble pressure of her hand intimated assent.</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Mr. Broadbent mentioned quite by accident this morning -that a celebrated London physician, a Doctor Haughton I think he -called him, was in the habit of coming up here every day just now to -visit Mr. Piggott it the Rookery; and it struck me at the time that it -would be a very good plan if we could send round to the Rookery and -ask this Doctor Haughton to call in as he was passing and see you."</p> - -<p>"No!" cried John Claxton in a loud voice, as he started up in his -chair; "no, I forbid you distinctly to do anything of the kind. I will -have no strange doctor admitted into this house. Understand, Alice, -these are my orders, and I insist on their being obeyed."</p> - -<p>"That is quite enough, John," said Alice; "you know that your will is -my law; still I hope to make you think better of it for your own sake -and for mine."</p> - -<p>They said no more about it just then. Alice remained kneeling by her -husband, holding his hand in hers, and softly smoothing his hair, and -bathing his forehead, until the dinner was announced. The threat of -calling in Doctor Haughton seemed to have had an inspiriting effect on -the invalid. He ate and drank more than he had done on the three -previous days, and talked more freely and with greater gaiety. So -comparatively lively was he, that Alice began to hope that he had been -merely suffering, as he had said, under an accumulation of business -worries, and that with a little rest and quiet he would recover his -ordinary health and spirits.</p> - -<p>Quite late in the evening, as they were sitting together in the -library, John began talking to his wife about Tom Durham. He had -scarcely touched upon the subject since the news of the unfortunate -man's death had arrived in England, and even now he introduced it -cautiously and with becoming reverence.</p> - -<p>"Of course it was a sad blow," he said, "and just now it seems very -hard for you to bear; but don't think I have failed to notice, Alice, -how, in your love and care for me, you have set aside your own grief -lest the sight of your sorrow should distress me."</p> - -<p>"I don't know that I deserve any gratitude for that, John; my care for -you is so very much greater than any other feeling which can possibly -enter into my mind, that it stands apart and alone, and I cannot -measure others by it. And yet I was very fond of poor Tom," she said, -pensively.</p> - -<p>"It will be a comfort for us to think, not now so much as hereafter, -that we did our best to start him in an honest career, and to give him -the chance of achieving a good position," said John Claxton. "He had -seen a great many of the ups and downs of life, had poor Tom Durham."</p> - -<p>"He was a strange mixture of good and evil," said Alice; "but to me he -was always uniformly kind and affectionate. He had a strange regard -for me, as being, I suppose, something totally different from what he -was usually brought in contact with; he took care that I should see -nothing but the best and brightest side of him, though of course I -knew from others that he was full of faults."</p> - -<p>"And you loved him all the same?"</p> - -<p>"And yet, as you say, I loved him all the same."</p> - -<p>"And nothing you could hear now would alter your opinion of him?"</p> - -<p>"No, John, I think--I am sure not. I am a strange being, and this is -one of my characteristics, that no fault known at the time or -discovered afterwards, could in the slightest degree influence my -feelings towards one whom I had really loved."</p> - -<p>"You are sure of that, Alice?" said John Claxton, bending down and -looking earnestly at her.</p> - -<p>"Quite sure," she replied.</p> - -<p>"That is one of the sweetest traits in your sweet self," said her -husband, kissing her fervently.</p> - -<p>The next morning Mr. Claxton's improvement seemed to continue. He was -up tolerably early, ate a good breakfast, and talked with all his -accustomed spirit. Alice began to think that she had been precipitate -in her idea of calling in medical advice, particularly in sending for -a stranger like Doctor Haughton, and was glad that John had overruled -her in the matter. Later in the morning, the air being tolerably mild, -and the sun shining, he went with little Bell into the garden, first -walking quietly round the paths, and afterwards, in compliance with -the child's request, giving himself up for a romping game at play. It -was while engaged in this game that John Claxton felt as though he had -suddenly lost his intellect, that everything was whirling round him in -wild chaotic disorder, then that he was stricken blind and deaf, then -that with one great blow depriving him almost of life, he was smitten -to the earth. On the earth he lay; while the child, conceiving this to -be a part of the game, ran off with shrieks of delight to some new -hiding-place. On the earth he lay, how long he knew not, having only -the consciousness, when he came to himself; of being dazed and -stunned, and sore all over, as though he had been severely beaten.</p> - -<p>John Claxton knew what this meant. He felt it would be almost -impossible any longer to hide the state in which he was from the eager -anxious eyes of his wife. He would make one more attempt, however; so, -bracing himself together, he managed to proceed with tolerable -steadiness towards the house. Alice came out to meet him, beaming with -happiness.</p> - -<p>"What has become of you, you silly John?" she cried. "I have been -looking for you everywhere. Bell told me she left you hiding somewhere -in the garden, and I have just sent up for my cloak, determined to -search for you myself."</p> - -<p>"Bell was quite right, dear," said John, slowly and with great effort. -"I was hiding, as she said; but as she did not come to find me, I -thought I had better make the best of my way without her."</p> - -<p>"Not before you were required, sir. I was waiting for you to give me -my monthly cheque. Don't you know that to-day is the twenty-fourth, -when I always pay my old pensioners and garden people?"</p> - -<p>"Is to-day the twenty-fourth?" asked John Claxton, his face flushing -very red, as he fumbled in his pocket for his note-book.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, John. Thursday the twenty-fourth, and--"</p> - -<p>"I must go," said John Claxton hoarsely, after he had found his -note-book and looked into it; "I must go to London at once."</p> - -<p>"To London, John?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, at once; particular appointment with Mr. Calverley for to-day. I -cannot think how I have forgotten it; but I must go."</p> - -<p>"You are not well enough to go, John; you must not."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I must and will!" said John Claxton fiercely. "I shall -come back to-night; or, if I have to go off out of town, I will tell -you where to send my portmanteau. Don't be angry, dear. I didn't mean -to be cross--I didn't indeed; but business--most important business."</p> - -<p>He spoke thickly and hurriedly, his veins were swollen, and his eyes -seemed starting out of his head.</p> - -<p>"Won't you wait for Davis's coach, John?" said Alice softly. "It will -start in half an hour."</p> - -<p>"No, no; let it pick me up on the road. Tell Davis to look out for me; -a little walk will do me good. Give me my hat and coat; and now, God -bless you, my darling. You are not angry with me? Let me hear that -before I start."</p> - -<p>"I never was angry with you, John. I never could be angry with you so -long as I live."</p> - -<p>He wound his arms around her and held her to his heart; then with -rapid shambling steps he started off down the high-road. He walked on -and on; he must have gone, he thought, at least two miles; would the -coach never come? The excitement which sustained him at first now -began to fail him; he felt his legs tottering under him; then suddenly -the blindness and the deafness came on him again, the singing in his -ears, the surging in his brain; and he fell by the roadside, helpless -and senseless.</p> - -<p> -The delightfully-interesting case of Mr. Piggott of the Rookery had -brought together Doctor Haughton and Mr. Broadbent, after a separation -of many years, and led them to renew the old friendship, which had -been interrupted since their student days at St. George's. Nature was -not doing much for Mr. Piggott, and the case was likely to be -pleasantly protracted; so that on this very day Doctor Haughton had -asked Mr. Broadbent to come and dine and sleep at his house in -Saville-row, where he would meet with some old friends and several -distinguished members of the profession; and the pair were rolling -easily into town in Doctor Haughton's carriage, with the black bag, -containing Mr. Broadbent's evening dress, carefully placed under the -coachman's legs.</p> - -<p>"What is this? A knot of people gathered by the roadside, all craning -forward eagerly, and looking at something on the ground. The -coachman's practised eye detects an accident instantly, and he whips -up his horses and stops them just abreast of the crowd.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" cried the coachman.</p> - -<p>"Man in a fit," cried one of the crowd.</p> - -<p>"That be blowed," said another; "he won't have any more of such fits -as them, I reckon. The man's dead; that's what he is."</p> - -<p>Hearing these words Mr. Broadbent opened the door and pushed his way -among the crowd. Instantly he returned, his face full of horror.</p> - -<p>"Good God!" he said to his companion, "who do you think it is? The -man--the very man about whom I was speaking to you just now--Claxton."</p> - -<p>Doctor Haughton descended from the carriage in a more leisurely and -professional manner, stepped among the people, who made way for him -right and left, knelt by the prostrate body; lifted its arms and -applied his fingers to its wrists. Then he shook his head.</p> - -<p>"The man is dead," he said; "there can be no doubt about that." And he -bent forward to look at the features. Instantly recognising him, he -sprang back. "Who did you say this man was?" he said, turning to Mr. -Broadbent.</p> - -<p>"Claxton--Mr. Claxton, of Rose Cottage."</p> - -<p>"Nothing of the sort," said the doctor. "I knew him well; it is Mr. -Calverley, of Great Walpole-street."</p> - -<p>"My good sir," said Mr. Broadbent, "I knew the man well. I saw him -only yesterday."</p> - -<p>"And I knew Mr. Calverley well. He was one of Chipchase's patients, -and I attended him when Chipchase was out of town. We can soon settle -this--Here, you lad, just stand at those horses' heads--Gibson," to -his coachman, "get down, and come here. Did you ever see that gentleman -before?" pointing to the body.</p> - -<p>The man bent forward and took a long and solemn stare.</p> - -<p>"Certainly, sir," he replied at length, touching his hat; "Mr. -Calverley, sir, of Great Walpole-street. Seen him a score of times."</p> - -<p>"What do you think of that?" said Doctor Haughton, turning to his -companion.</p> - -<p>"Think!" said Mr. Broadbent, "I will tell you what I think--that Mr. -Claxton of Rose Cottage and Mr. Calverley of Great Walpole-street were -one and the same man!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>END OF VOL. I.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>LONDON:<br> -ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Flag, Volume 1 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW FLAG, VOLUME 1 (OF 3) *** - -***** This file should be named 61093-h.htm or 61093-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/1/0/9/61093/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web 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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