diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69286-0.txt | 4686 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69286-0.zip | bin | 91892 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69286-h.zip | bin | 1062660 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69286-h/69286-h.htm | 7388 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/69286-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 962782 -> 0 bytes |
8 files changed, 17 insertions, 12074 deletions
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..b3df376 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69286 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69286) diff --git a/old/69286-0.txt b/old/69286-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fd3593c..0000000 --- a/old/69286-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4686 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hampstead mystery, by Florence -Marryat - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Hampstead mystery - a novel. Volume 1 (of 3) - -Author: Florence Marryat - -Release Date: November 1, 2022 [eBook #69286] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Carla Foust, Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY *** - - - - - -THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY. - - - - -_The Hampstead Mystery._ - -A Novel. - -BY - -FLORENCE MARRYAT, - - AUTHOR OF ‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘VÉRONIQUE,’ ‘MY OWN - CHILD,’ ‘MY SISTER THE ACTRESS,’ ‘HOW LIKE - A WOMAN,’ ‘PARSON JONES,’ ETC., ETC. - -_IN THREE VOLUMES._ - -VOL. I. - -LONDON: - - F. V. WHITE & CO., - 14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. - -1894. - - - - -_CONTENTS._ - - - PAGE - CHAPTER I., 1 - - CHAPTER II., 25 - - CHAPTER III., 46 - - CHAPTER IV., 75 - - CHAPTER V., 97 - - CHAPTER VI., 123 - - CHAPTER VII., 145 - - CHAPTER VIII., 171 - - CHAPTER IX., 198 - - CHAPTER X., 218 - - - - -THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY. - - - - -_The Hampstead Mystery._ - - - - -CHAPTER I. - - -‘Once for all,’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, bringing down his broad fist -heavily upon the table, ‘once for all, I tell you, _I will not have -it_.’ - -At this terrible assertion, Mrs Crampton shivered as if she had been -struck, and Aunt Clem silently dissolved into tears. Henry Hindes, of -all the party, alone preserved his composure. He leaned back in his -chair, carefully trimming his filbert nails with a penknife, as if the -affair under discussion were not of the slightest moment. - -‘Of course you will not have it,’ he said after a pause to Mr Crampton, -‘no man in his senses would. Mr Frederick Walcheren has money and good -looks, but there his claims to admiration end. The first you do not -require for your daughter, and the second would have no weight with -anyone but a woman. To place against these supposed advantages, Mr -Walcheren is a young man of dissolute habits, and lavish expenditure. -You should hear what his cousin, Philip Walcheren, says of him.’ - -‘I want no one’s opinion but my own,’ replied Mr Crampton vehemently. -‘Jenny will have all my money by-and-by, and she shall marry no man -that will make ducks and drakes of it. Besides, he isn’t good enough -for her in any way. He thinks, I suppose, because his family have been -a set of idle scoundrels for centuries past, while my progenitors have -been working to support their children, that his is the better of the -two, but I don’t see it. Besides, if he were the heir to the Crown, -he shouldn’t have my daughter. He’s a Roman, that’s more than enough -for me. I’ll have no Papists in my family. I hate the whole crew, with -their cunning, underhand ways. If Jenny won’t give this Walcheren -fellow over, I’ll lock her up on bread and water till she comes to her -senses again.’ - -As neither of the ladies made any answer to this threat, Mr Hindes -interfered again. - -‘Surely,’ he said with an incredulous smile, ‘Miss Crampton will not -dream of opposing your wishes in this particular, when so much depends -upon her obedience. What can she see in this young man to attract her, -above others of his kind; she who has a crowd of admirers wherever she -goes, and is the acknowledged beauty of Hampstead? I believe, Crampton, -that you are alarming yourself without cause. Miss Crampton means -nothing serious. She is merely amusing herself with the sight of young -Walcheren’s infatuation for her.’ - -‘It’s more than that,’ returned the older man; ‘I’ve forbidden the -girl to dance with him when she meets him out, or to receive him here -during my absence. And now, her mother tells me, she met them riding -together yesterday afternoon, and has intercepted a letter from him -to Jenny, in which he writes as though they were promised to each -other. What am I to do? I can’t be always at my daughter’s elbow, and -her mother can’t go galloping all over the country after her. It is -disgraceful to think that a young lady of twenty can’t be trusted to -behave herself properly as soon as she is out of her parents’ sight!’ - -‘Don’t you think you are making rather a mountain out of a molehill?’ -inquired Henry Hindes, in the same calm way. ‘Doubtless, Miss Crampton -is young and thoughtless, and, if I may venture to say so--perhaps just -a wee bit spoilt; but is that any reason that you should suspect her -of impropriety? And, after all, is there anything wrong or unusual in -a lovely girl being followed and persecuted by her admirers? Perhaps, -if the truth were known, Miss Crampton might be as well pleased to get -rid of Mr Walcheren as you would be.’ - -At this juncture, Mrs Crampton took heart of grace to put in her oar. - -‘Oh, thank you, dear Mr Hindes!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am sure you are -right. That is, I feel certain that Jenny cares no more for Mr -Walcheren than for anyone else. She is a trifle wilful and does not -brook contradiction well--I acknowledge that--and perhaps papa and I -have spoilt her a little; she is such a darling, you know, that it is -very difficult not to spoil her--but she would never really oppose our -wishes. Papa has only to speak to her--’ - -‘Nonsense!’ interposed Mr Crampton gruffly. ‘I have spoken to her a -dozen times already, and she laughs in my face and disobeys me as soon -as my back is turned. But this business has gone far enough, and I mean -to put a stop to it. Where is the girl?’ he continued, turning to his -wife; ‘go and tell her I wish to speak to her at once!’ - -‘My dear, she has not risen yet. I do not suppose she is awake!’ - -‘And it is past eleven,’ said her husband. - -‘Yes; but remember how late she was up last night. I don’t think we -were home till past two o’clock.’ - -‘Whilst she was dancing with this young jackanapes, I conclude, and -letting him make eyes at her! Well! it is for the last time, I can tell -Miss Jenny that! If she disobeys me again, I’ll take her right away -from Hampstead, and she shall never see it till the fellow’s dead, or -married. No Papistical grandchildren for me! I can tell her that!’ - -‘Oh, Mr Crampton!’ cried his wife, with affected horror. - -‘Yes, it is “Oh! Mr Crampton,”’ repeated the old man angrily, mimicking -her thin tones, ‘and it’ll be “Oh! Mrs Crampton,” if you don’t take -care. It’s more than half your fault! You should look better after -your daughter, and then these unpleasantries wouldn’t happen. But you -let her have her own way in everything. She just rules you and Miss -Bostock, and then you leave me to rectify your errors. It isn’t fair on -either me or the child!’ - -Mrs Crampton and her sister, Miss Bostock, familiarly known as Aunt -Clem, were now weeping in concert. - -‘I am sure,’ sobbed the mother, ‘I’ve done everything in my power, -short of turning Mr Walcheren out of doors, to prevent his calling here -so often, because I knew you didn’t wish it, John. Last time he came -I would not order up tea, until Jenny made such a point of it that I -could not refuse. And when the dear child rides, or drives, you know it -is impossible for me to supervise her actions.’ - -‘You should go with her,’ grumbled her husband. - -‘Oh! dear! I wouldn’t sit behind those cobs of hers for all the world! -It frightens me to see her drive them. And she won’t come out in the -barouche with Aunt Clem and me. She laughs at the very idea. She is so -very high-spirited, you see. She must have her own way in everything!’ - -‘Well, go and fetch her here,’ said Mr Crampton shortly; ‘I must speak -to her before I go to town.’ - -‘But if she is not dressed, my dear,’ remonstrated his wife. - -‘Tell her to dress at once and come to me! Now, no nonsense, or I’ll -pull her out of bed myself.’ - -The two women flew from the room to prevent so awful a contingency, and -the men were left alone. They were partners in the well-known firm of -Messrs Hindes & Crampton, wool-staplers in the city. - -Henry Hindes, although much the younger of the two, was head of the -business, having inherited his share through the death of his father. -He was a man of about five or seven and thirty, smooth and solid -looking, but much more polished in manners and appearance than his -partner. His fair, thin hair was parted in the middle, and combed -close to his head. He possessed a powerful brain and a good knowledge -of business. His blue eyes, straight thick nose, and smiling mouth, -gave him a benevolent and cordial look, which made him a favourite in -society. He was always perfectly dressed, and was proud of his white -hands and filbert nails. - -People who wished to do business with the firm, always preferred to see -the senior partner to the junior, because the former was so _suave_ and -courteous, and the latter so rough and curt. - -But Mr Crampton was the tenderer-hearted man of the two, though he -did not show it so much. His private purse-strings were always open -to help a disabled workman, or to head a subscription for the widows -and orphans of those who were removed by death. He was a man of -strong views, however, and a somewhat obstinate temperament, and this -business of his daughter and Mr Frederick Walcheren had disturbed him -very much. A Scotchman by birth, and brought up as a Nonconformist, -he had a righteous horror of Popery, and everything connected with -it. On this account alone he had, from the first, discountenanced the -acquaintanceship of Mr Walcheren with his family; and to find that his -daughter had, in express opposition to his wishes, made an intimate -friend of the young man, wounded him in his tenderest point. He sat -very gloomy and silent after his wife and sister-in-law had left the -room, and Mr Hindes tried his utmost to make him regard the matter in a -more hopeful light. For years he had been as intimate in the domestic -circle of the Crampton family, as he was with his partner in the city, -and was regarded as their nearest friend by them all. - -‘This is a matter that only requires a few words of explanation to set -it right, Crampton,’ he remarked, ‘so it’s no use looking so black -about it. You must allow that you and your wife have rather given Miss -Jenny her own way, and naturally she clings to it. But she loves you -both too much to wilfully oppose you.’ - -‘I hope so, I hope so!’ replied the old man. ‘But spoilt children are -not always the most grateful, Hindes. I trust that Jenny may listen, as -you say, to reason, but I would rather appeal to the young man himself. -Perhaps, if he knew that we will never give our consent to her marrying -a Papist, he might see the advisability of giving up the pursuit.’ - -‘I will speak to him, if you empower me to do so,’ said Hindes, -eagerly. ‘He is sure to be at the Bouchers’ dance to-night. I did not -intend to go, but I believe Hannah wishes to do so, and the opportunity -will be an excellent one, particularly if Miss Crampton is to be there, -and carries out your prohibition with respect to dancing with him. He -will sulk and sit out, and I shall be able to give him a hint as to -your disapproval of his suit.’ - -‘Do so, Hindes, and I shall be exceedingly obliged to you,’ replied Mr -Crampton. ‘And, if that fails, we must take Jenny away, for, by hook or -by crook, I am determined to shake that young fellow off.’ - -‘Hannah is going with the little ones to Broadstairs next week. What do -you say to Miss Crampton accompanying her? You know how fond my wife is -of your daughter, and she would watch over her like a mother. At all -events, it is worth thinking of.’ - -‘It would be a capital plan,’ said Mr Crampton; ‘but why are you going?’ - -‘Because it is time one of us was at the office, my dear fellow; and, -since you are about to speak to your daughter on this subject, it is -just as well I should be out of the way. I shall see you later in the -afternoon, but don’t hurry on my account. And I shall not forget to -speak to Mr Walcheren this evening. I shall not spare him, I promise -you, but lay it on as thick as I know how, and, if he doesn’t like -it, he must do the other thing. By the way, I know the cousin, Philip -Walcheren, as well as their mutual director, Father Tasker, so, if -the young man won’t hear reason, I will appeal to them. There is one -convenience about these Papists, you can generally wield them through -their directors.’ - -‘Yes, the silly fools!’ said Crampton contemptuously. ‘They’re afraid -to say their lives are their own if the priests say they’re not. Pooh! -call them _men_. They’re more like a flock of silly sheep, who run -baa-ing after their shepherd.’ - -‘In that case,’ replied Mr Hindes, smiling, ‘I’m afraid Mr Frederick -Walcheren must be one of the lost sheep, for, from all I hear, he does -not trouble the church, nor the director of his conscience much. But -I’ll do my level best to bring him to hear reason in this instance. _Au -revoir._’ - -And, with a nod and a smile, he was gone. - -‘He’s a true friend,’ thought Mr Crampton to himself, as he took up the -_Times_, and tried to possess his soul in patience until the appearance -of his daughter. - -Meanwhile, Mrs Crampton and Miss Bostock were making their way, -timidly, towards the young lady’s bedroom. In the ante-chamber they -encountered her maid, employed in sewing. - -‘Is Miss Crampton awake yet, Ellen?’ demanded her mother. - -‘Oh! no, ma’am, I haven’t heard a sound of her, and she begged me -particularly not to call her till she rung. She was terrible tired, she -said, and didn’t wish to be disturbed.’ - -‘I’m sorry, Ellen, but I’m afraid I must wake her now. It’s past -eleven, and her papa particularly wishes to see her before he leaves -for the city,’ replied Mrs Crampton. - -‘Oh, dear! I’m sure I don’t know what she’ll say,’ remarked the maid, -as she re-applied herself to her work, and looked as if she was glad -the task had not fallen to her. - -The two ladies entered the adjoining bedroom on tip-toe, and as if -they feared the result of the least noise. It was one of the most -perfectly-arranged chambers a young girl could desire, and it was -pre-evident that its furnishings had been selected with the greatest -care, and for someone who was much loved and treasured. The walls -and chintzes were all of palest pink, the woodwork of white enamel, -and the hangings of lace. On the walls were hung a selection of -photographs, chiefly of dogs and horses, for Miss Crampton’s tastes -ran in that line, and the low, walnut-wood bookcase was filled with -the best authors. Everywhere were signs of profusion and luxury, for -the Cramptons were rich and spared no expense for this one beloved -child, who made all the joy of their lives. The toilet table was -covered with silver and cut glass, and on the mantelpiece stood a -handsome clock and candelabras of Sevres china; but the fairest sight -in all the room was Jenny Crampton herself, as she lay, flushed, -dishevelled and palpitating on her bed, one of the most beautiful -specimens of work that ever proceeded from the Creator’s hand. It was -difficult to believe that the two plain women who stood gazing at her -from the foot of the bed, could be her nearest blood relations. The -questions of hereditary resemblances and non-resemblances are amongst -the most anomalous in Nature. Whence did Jenny Crampton inherit her -perfect features and colouring? Her father was a type of the average -middle-class Englishman. He had a broad-set, muscular figure, with legs -too short for his size, a florid complexion, with thick bushy eyebrows, -a heavy nose, and a long upper lip. His small grey eyes were shrewd, -but honest and benevolent-looking, and his hands and feet were large -and coarse. His wife and her sister might have stood, with a little -caricaturing, for the Frenchman’s notion of an ‘English Mees.’ - -Mrs Crampton had the shapelier and more matured figure of the two, and -her soft brown eyes, attenuated nose, and weak drooping mouth, might -once have been styled pretty, but they both possessed the same tall, -flat frames, with sloping shoulders, long hands and feet, and limp, -lustreless hair. In what enchanted moment, then, had such progenitors -given life to such a lovely creature, as lay asleep upon the bed before -them? Her rounded dimpled arms were thrown restlessly above her head -(for it was summer weather), and were half hidden by the mass of light -chestnut hair, that strayed over her pillow. Her tints were those of a -maiden-blush rose. From her neck and shoulders to her flushed cheeks, -her skin was of one uniform texture, of a pale cream, just touched -with pink. Her lips were slightly parted as she slept and showed the -row of white teeth within. The lashes of her eyes lay thick and long -upon her cheeks; and those eyes, when open, formed, perhaps, the very -chief of her attractions. They were long, limpid eyes, of a light -hazel colour, and with the startled expression in them of a deer or -a child; eyes which made strangers think that Jenny Crampton was one -of the most innocent of God’s creatures upon earth, but which changed -considerably in expression when Jenny’s wishes were in any way crossed, -or her requests disregarded. From the time when she was a lovely little -child (the only one they had ever kept since its earliest infancy) -Mr and Mrs Crampton had learned to dread the clouding over of those -beautiful orbs, and the pouting of those pretty lips. It was in their -power to gratify every wish of their child, and so they gratified -themselves at the same time by avoiding anything so distressing to them -as her tears. Everyone had combined to spoil Jenny Crampton from her -babyhood, and by this time the young lady was pretty well beyond all -control. The father acceded to her every request, however unreasonable -or extravagant; and the mother and aunt only lived to worship her. -Even poor Aunt Clem, who was the standing butt for Jenny’s ridicule, -or the mark for her ill-humour, considered herself well repaid for all -her patience and endurance if the spoilt beauty gave her an occasional -hasty kiss (or rather peck) on her cheek, or her cap, or wherever it -might chance to fall, or honoured her by a request to tie her sash, -or do a commission for her. This was the sort of education the poor -girl had received to enable her to face the rebuffs of the world. But, -though her bringing-up had been very faulty, there was no mistake -about her beauty. Far or near, all round Hampstead and its environs, -there was not a girl who could vie in good looks with old Crampton’s -daughter, and, as her father was known to be a very wealthy man, Jenny -had more admirers than she could count on her ten fingers. But, of them -all, none had really appealed to her senses but Frederick Walcheren. -The Cramptons and Aunt Clem had a tough time before them. - -‘How lovely she is!’ sighed Miss Bostock, as an intuition of their -presence, even through her dreams, made Jenny turn restlessly and throw -herself into another becoming attitude on the other side of the bed. - -‘Yes! indeed, Clem; but I’m afraid I must rouse her,’ whispered Mrs -Crampton. ‘Papa is really vexed about this business, and, if she -doesn’t see him at once, I fear he may be more so. Jenny, my darling!’ -she continued, going round to the girl’s side and laying her hand -gently on her shoulder, ‘Jenny, dear love, wake up; there’s a dear! -Papa wants to see you before he goes into the city.’ - -‘Eh! what?’ said the girl drowsily, as she turned away, ‘it’s not time -to get up yet. I’m so sleepy.’ - -‘But, Jenny, love, try and rouse yourself,’ repeated her mother, rather -tremblingly, ‘your father wants you, dear. He won’t keep you long. You -need only put on a tea-gown and can come back and finish your toilet -afterwards. Come Jenny, make an effort, love, for papa won’t be denied.’ - -The girl opened her big hazel eyes then, and stared stupidly at her -aunt and mother. - -‘You here, mamma!’ she ejaculated, ‘and Aunt Clem! What on earth is the -matter? Is the house on fire?’ - -‘No! no! dear, of course not, but papa wants to speak to you for a -minute before he leaves home.’ - -‘Then he must wait till he comes back,’ replied Jenny, as she closed -her eyes again, ‘for I’m a great deal too sleepy to see anyone. Go -away, do! mamma, and leave me alone. It’s a shame to go waking me in -this way, when you know I was dancing up to three o’clock this morning.’ - -‘I know, darling, I know!’ said Mrs Crampton, almost weeping, ‘and I -wouldn’t have done it for the world, only papa insisted on it, and you -know what he is when he’s set on having his way. Jenny, my dear; do try -and rouse yourself a little, for papa says if you don’t go down and see -him, he will come up here and pull you out of bed himself.’ - -At this intelligence, Miss Crampton did see fit to open her eyes a -little wider, and sit up in bed. Perhaps her conscience warned her what -this unusual severity on the part of her father might portend, but she -looked exceedingly cross as she did so. - -‘I never heard such nonsense in all my life,’ she exclaimed, ‘what can -he have to say to me, that will not keep till dinner time? I can’t -be down for half an hour, at anyrate, so papa must wait my pleasure. -Where’s Ellen? She must come and help me dress! My goodness me, Aunt -Clem,’ she broke off suddenly, as she caught sight of that lady’s -sympathetic features regarding her wistfully from the foot of the bed, -‘don’t stand there goggling at me like a stork on one leg, or you’ll -drive me out of my senses. Go and call Ellen, do! If I’m to see papa, -someone must dress me. I don’t suppose he wants me to walk downstairs -in my night-dress, though he is in such a hurry.’ - -‘No! no! love, of course not!’ returned her mother, hastily. ‘Clem! -call Ellen, and tell her Jenny is going to get up. Now, darling! what -can I do to help you?’ - -‘Nothing,’ replied her daughter peevishly, ‘unless you will give papa -a dose of morphia to keep him quiet till I can dress myself. What _is_ -all this mystery about? Why can’t you say why the old gentleman is so -desirous of my company this morning. He is not in the habit of dragging -me out of bed, after a ball, at this unearthly hour.’ - -‘It is nearly twelve o’clock, my dear!’ said Mrs Crampton evasively. - -‘What of that? I ordered my trap to be round at four this afternoon, -and told Ellen particularly that she was not to come near me till I -rang. You know the Bouchers’ dance is on to-night, and a nice figure I -shall look at it if I do not have my sleep out first.’ - -‘Well, dear,’ replied her mother, soothingly, ‘you can come to bed -again, if you think fit, in the afternoon. You know _I_ wouldn’t have -disturbed you for all the world, but gentlemen are not always so -considerate. And your father insisted upon my doing so, so what could I -say?’ - -‘What’s the row about?’ repeated Jenny, as her maid began to brush out -and twist up her superabundant hair. - -But Mrs Crampton was too discreet to say all she knew before a servant. - -‘Oh! it’s nothing particular, my love, and your father had best tell -you himself. You needn’t be afraid, he loves you too dearly ever to -scold you, whatever you may do or say.’ - -‘Oh! I’m not afraid of the old man!’ rejoined the young lady; ‘only -he’d better not go too far with me. I can guess what all the fuss is -about, mamma, and I’ve got a will of my own, as well as he has. If -papa is going to lecture me about Mr--’ - -‘Now, dear, don’t mention any names,’ interposed Mrs Crampton quickly, -‘for it may only lead to mischief. Your papa must tell you his own -business, and I’m sure you’ll do all in your power to fall in with his -wishes.’ - -‘I’m not so sure of that,’ replied the young lady, with a _moue_. -‘Here, Ellen, give me my blue tea-gown! My hair will do very well, for -I shall most likely be in bed again in half an hour. Go down, whilst -I’m with Mr Crampton, and fetch me some chocolate and a piece of toast, -and let it be ready when I come back. Now! mamma, we’ll go and beard -the old lion in his den.’ - - - - -CHAPTER II. - - -Jenny looked, if possible, lovelier than usual as she tripped -downstairs beside her mother and her aunt. Her face was still flushed -from sleep, and her hair had been twisted up anyhow, whilst the pale -blue gown she wore accorded well with her rose-leaf complexion. Mrs -Crampton and Miss Bostock accompanied her in trembling dread of the -coming encounter, but the girl herself was perfectly confident and -fearless. As they reached the door of the library, where her father -awaited her, she caught sight of Aunt Clem’s visage and burst out -laughing. - -‘Oh, dear!’ she cried, ‘Aunt Clem, if you don’t put on some other kind -of face, you’ll kill me! When you assume that lugubrious expression, -you look so like a cow that I always expect to hear you low.’ - -‘Dearest child! that is not kind,’ remarked her mother, with mild -reproof. - -‘Oh! never mind, it doesn’t signify, I am sure dear Jenny doesn’t mean -it,’ interposed Aunt Clem, who had, nevertheless, winced under the -sarcasm. - -‘I did mean it, though,’ cried Jenny boldly; ‘one would think I was -going to be hanged to see your long faces. Well, papa!’ she continued, -as they entered the presence of Mr Crampton, ‘and what may you have -to say to me this morning? You’ll have to pay for dragging me out of -my bed in this outrageous manner, you know, and I sha’n’t be pacified -until you buy me that little Arab mare of Mr Winchers’. Is it a -bargain?’ - -She looked so saucy and so pretty as she said this, and perched herself -on her father’s knee, that Mr Crampton, in his pride and affection, -was very nearly granting her request without further protest. But -the remembrance of the Popish admirer intruded itself just in time to -prevent the folly. Nevertheless, he kissed his daughter’s blooming -cheek, and said,-- - -‘If you will be a good girl, and do exactly as I tell you, you shall -have a dozen Arab mares if they will please you, Jenny.’ - -‘All right, old gentleman! that’s a bargain. Now for the conditions.’ - -‘But we must speak seriously, my dear, for I am quite in earnest in -this matter. You have been encouraging a young man to come about here, -Jenny, of whose acquaintanceship you know I do not approve--I mean Mr -Frederick Walcheren. Now, I must have a stop put to it at once. He -never comes here again, nor will I allow you to meet him out of the -house, unless it should be by accident, nor to dance with him if you do -meet him. I hope you understand me plainly. I will not permit you to -know any of the Walcherens from this time forward. You must entirely -drop them. Nor shall your mother ask them to my house. And I shall -never remove this prohibition from you--_never_!’ - -‘Anything more?’ asked Jenny, shortly. - -A close observer might have seen and interpreted the change in her -countenance as she listened to her father’s mandate. Into the light -hazel eyes had crept a much darker shade, and the full lips had pouted -till they had become sullen. But all she said was ‘Anything more?’ - -‘I do not know that, as your father, I am in any way called upon to -give you my reasons, my dear, but, since you seem to ask for them, -I will. You appear to me to have shown a marked preference for Mr -Frederick Walcheren’s society, and, as it would be impossible for you -to marry him, it is best the affair should be put an end to at once.’ - -‘He has plenty of money,’ argued the young lady. - -‘I am aware of that, and the uses he has hitherto put his money to. He -is a gambler and a loose liver. But that is not the chief objection -to him in my eyes. His vices might be reformed, but not his religion. -Young creatures like yourself do not think of such things, but the -Walcherens are all Roman Catholics, and that fact puts an insuperable -barrier between them and us. I would never, under any circumstances, -give my consent to your marriage with a Papist. I would rather see you -in your grave, Jenny, and I cannot say more than that. If you have -entertained any such idea, you must dismiss it from your mind at once. -And in order that there may be no fear of such a thing--in order to -secure your happiness and safety, I insist upon your giving up the -acquaintanceship of this young man altogether. You must not ask him to -the house again, and, if he calls, your mother will order the servant -to say that she is not at home. If you meet him out, you have my -strict commands not to dance with him, or to talk more than the merest -politeness necessitates. If, notwithstanding these precautions, I find -Mr Walcheren is obstinately bent on thrusting himself where he is not -welcome, I shall take the law into my own hands, by carrying you away -from Hampstead to some place where it is impossible you can meet him. -Don’t think me harsh, Jenny, for, God knows, that is the last thing -I wish to be towards you, but I have spoken to you on this subject -several times before, and I find you have taken no heed, so you force -me to speak more plainly. Do you quite understand me now?’ - -‘Yes, I understand,’ said the girl sullenly. - -‘And you promise obedience?’ - -‘How can I do otherwise than obey?’ she broke out passionately. ‘The -house is yours, and you can do as you choose with it and those who -enter it. And Frederick Walcheren is not a man to thrust his company -where it is not wanted. All these accusations you bring against -him--what authority have you for them? He is to be condemned unheard, -and his religion is brought against him as a crime. If that is what -you call Christian, I’d rather be a Jew any day.’ - -The tone she had adopted made the old man angry. He was devotedly fond -and proud of her, but he had an obstinate temper, and would not brook -opposition to his wishes. - -‘Now, now, that’s enough!’ he answered. ‘My word is law here, and -I will stand no arguments about the matter. I don’t approve of the -man--that is sufficient! Neither shall my daughter know him. As for -condemning him unheard, that is all rubbish. Hindes knows his character -as well as I do. He says--’ - -‘Oh! then it is to Mr Hindes I owe this unpleasant interview,’ cried -Jenny. ‘What business has he to poke his nose into my affairs? He’s -always meddling in some way or another. Mr Hindes made you sell my -beautiful hunter, because he said it was not safe for me to ride; and -Mr Hindes prevented my accepting Lady Makewell’s invitation to the -Castle, on account of some absurd rumours he had heard of her former -life. But, if Mr Hindes thinks he is to be the judge of all my actions -and the ruler of my destinies, he is very much mistaken, and so I -will let him know before he is many days older. I won’t have any man -interfering with me in this way, and turning my own parents against me.’ - -‘Don’t be a fool!’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, roughly. ‘Hindes is the best -friend you have--that any of us have--and it would be a bad day for the -firm and the family, that saw our interests divided. I mentioned him as -an authority for the sort of life Mr Frederick Walcheren lives, but, -far from setting me against you, he has stood up for your good sense -and filial obedience all through the discussion of this unfortunate -affair. It is I alone--your father--who has come to the conclusion to -cut Mr Walcheren’s acquaintance, and now I demand your obedience to my -commands. Once and for all, your implicit obedience. Do you promise it -me?’ - -‘I have no alternative!’ said Jenny. - -‘All the same, I must have your promise given here, before your mother -and your aunt.’ - -‘Very well, then, I promise!’ replied the girl after a pause. - -‘That is all I require,’ said the old man; ‘and now, I suppose, I can -go about my business. But remember! if I ever catch you trying to -outwit me by any d--d subterfuges, I will take you away from Hampstead, -and you shall never see it again whilst that man is in it.’ - -He turned then, as if to leave the room, but, perceiving that both his -wife and her sister were in tears, he thought he might have spoken too -harshly to this child whom he so dearly loved, and came back again for -a moment. - -‘Kiss me, Jenny,’ he said; ‘I’m not angry with you, my girl, though I -may have seemed so, but it’s your happiness I have at heart and not my -own. There! there!’ with a sounding kiss on her cheek, ‘you won’t fret -about the matter, will you? and we’ll ride over together to Winchers’ -to-morrow and secure the little mare you’ve set your heart on. God -bless you, my dear!’ and, with another kiss, he left them to themselves. - -Jenny stood for a minute silent and motionless, then walked quickly -towards the door, as if to return to her own room. - -‘Jenny, my darling,’ pleaded her mother, ‘you see the force of your -dear father’s argument, don’t you?’ - -She went towards the girl as she spoke, and would have wound her arms -about her, but Jenny pushed her impatiently aside. - -‘Don’t bother me, mamma,’ she said, ‘you know how I hate a fuss. All -this worry is mostly your fault, you might have prevented it if you had -chosen.’ - -‘Oh! Jenny, my dear, how?’ - -‘Why, do you suppose I don’t know it has come of some repetition of -yours or Aunt Clem’s? How should papa, who is all day in the city, -and never goes with us anywhere in the evenings, have heard that I -danced more with Fred Walcheren than any other man, unless you had -told him? And I think it is beastly mean of you, too! Why can’t I -have my pleasure the same as other girls? I conclude you and papa made -love enough to each other when you were young, and yet you grudge me -a choice in the matter. I’m only to dance, and talk, and be agreeable -with such people as you select for me. It’s bitterly unfair.’ - -‘Oh, no, darling, don’t say that! Your dear father is only desirous -of one thing, to promote your welfare. And Mr Walcheren is very wild, -Jenny. He would not make you a good husband. Everybody says so.’ - -‘And so my happiness is to be sacrificed because “everybody” chooses to -tell lies of the man I like, and papa and you choose to believe them. -Well! I sha’n’t forget it in a hurry, I can tell you, mamma. And now, -please let me go to my room in peace. I suppose I may claim a right to -so much indulgence of my own wishes.’ - -‘My dear girl, when have any of your wishes been ungratified, unless -they were likely to prove hurtful to yourself. We should take a knife -away from a baby, my darling, however much it cried for it, for fear it -should cut itself.’ - -‘Thank you for comparing me to a baby, mamma, but I think you will find -I am not quite such a child as you imagine. Anyway, I am woman enough -to wish to be left alone to think over this matter by myself.’ - -And, without waiting for an answer, Jenny ran up the staircase, and -locked herself into her bedroom. - -The two ladies downstairs were left in a very uncomfortable condition. - -‘I hope,’ remarked Mrs Crampton to her sister, ‘I hope dear papa -did not go too far in what he said. Jenny is so high-spirited and -quick-tempered, that she might be tempted to do something wilful just -because she was crossed. And if she dances with Mr Walcheren at the -Bouchers’ to-night, I don’t know what her papa will say.’ - -‘Oh, she would never dare to do so, surely,’ replied Aunt Clem; ‘she -would never fly in John’s face in that manner! She is a little fond of -her own way sometimes, I admit, but she has a good heart, poor darling, -and says far more than she means. And John is right, Emma. Mr Walcheren -is a very wild young man, and it would never do for our Jenny to marry -him.’ - -‘Of course, John is right,’ acquiesced the wife; ‘but I wish Jenny -could see it in the same light. However, I will take care not to let -her out of my sight this evening, and then it will be impossible for Mr -Walcheren to get speech of her, without my overhearing what he may say.’ - -Meanwhile, Jenny, having reached the sanctuary of her own room, drank -off her chocolate hastily, and dismissed her maid who was in attendance. - -‘Is my bath ready, Ellen?’ she inquired; ‘that is right. Well! you can -go now and I will ring when I am ready to dress. Tell Brunell that I -will have the Ralli cart at one.’ - -‘Before luncheon, miss?’ said the maid. - -‘At one o’clock, sharp! And don’t go out of the way; I shall want you -in ten minutes.’ - -She turned the key of her door on the inside as the maid disappeared, -and, sitting down before her writing-table, drew out pen and paper, and -commenced to write a letter, which ran as follows:-- - - ‘DARLING,--There has been a row here this morning, and papa has - forbidden me ever to speak to you again. What are we to do? I shall be - at the Bouchers’ to-night, without fail. I must not dance with you, - but, if you will be in the picture gallery after the fourth dance, I - will contrive to speak to you. Oh, Fred, where is all this going to - end? They shall never make me give you up, if you remain of the same - mind, but open communication with you seems almost impossible. I can’t - write any more, my head and my heart are both in a whirl. Ever your - loving - - JENNY.’ - -She sealed this letter, and directed it to Frederick Walcheren, -Esq., 308 Nevern Mansions, Earl’s Court, London, and placed it on one -side. Her next concern was to see in what condition this unpleasant -excitement had left her. But she found no reason to complain. - -The exercise of her temper had made her cheeks rosier, and lent an -extra brightness to her eyes. She was glad of this--glad that she had -not given way to the weakness of tears, and swelled up her eyelids and -made her face look puffy. She might meet Frederick during her drive. He -spent most of his spare time in wandering about Hampstead in the hopes -of meeting her. But she seldom drove out until the afternoon. Still, -there was just the chance of a _rencontre_ with her lover, and for that -chance Jenny would have taken more trouble than this. - -When she came downstairs again, an hour later, dressed in a tailor-made -suit of light fawn tweed, with her jaunty little felt hat on her -head, and her hands in white doeskin driving-gloves, holding a -handsome ivory-handled whip, few people would have guessed the state -of excitement she was still in, she looked so fresh and lovely and -smiling. In the hall she encountered her mother, who had heard the -wheels of the Ralli cart draw up to the door. - -‘Out so early, my darling?’ Mrs Crampton said, kindly; ‘where are you -going to?’ - -‘For a drive,’ answered the girl curtly. - -‘But doesn’t it look a little like rain,’ continued her mother timidly, -for she was half afraid of her idol, particularly when the idol was put -out. - -‘I don’t care if it does,’ replied Jenny, in the same tone; ‘I’m not -made of sugar.’ - -‘But take an umbrella, darling,’ said her mother, anxiously, ‘and let -Brunell hold it over you, if it should be wet.’ - -But Miss Crampton rejected all her suggestions with scorn. - -‘If it thunders and lightens, and I get wet through and go into a -consumption, so much the better,’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘You and -papa between you have contrived to make me so supremely miserable, -that I don’t care what happens to me! In fact, the sooner I’m dead the -better; and I’ve a good mind to take a dose of prussic acid and end it -at once.’ - -This is a very usual threat of selfish and ill-tempered people, -particularly if they have loving and anxious hearts to deal with. To -Mrs Crampton, to whom the girl was everything in the world, Jenny’s -words seem full of bitter portent. - -‘Oh! my darling! my darling!’ she exclaimed, in a voice of the deepest -concern, ‘don’t say such terrible things, even in jest, for Heaven’s -sake! You will break my heart, Jenny, and your poor father would go mad -if he heard you speak in such an awful way. Why! we would cut off our -right hands to save you a moment’s trouble.’ - -‘Yes! it looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said the young lady, sarcastically. - -‘My dearest, don’t discuss the subject again. Wait a little and you -will see it perhaps in a different light. My head aches so, Jenny, I -am not fit to argue it with you, and you have been upset as well. Go -for a nice drive, and the fresh air will make your head clearer. But be -careful, my love, and don’t do anything rash! I’m half afraid of those -cobs, Jenny, they’re so fresh and spirited.’ - -‘Oh! you’re afraid of everything,’ replied her daughter in a tone of -contempt; ‘and as for Aunt Clem, she’s alarmed at her own shadow.’ - -‘I was never brought up to horses and dogs, as you have been, dear,’ -said Miss Bostock, who was standing near. - -‘No; nor to anything, I should think,’ replied her niece, as she -prepared to get into her Ralli cart. ‘I often think you and mamma must -have been born and reared on a desert island, you seem so utterly -ignorant of the things most people do.’ - -With which Miss Crampton gently touched her steeds with the lash of her -whip, and they went prancing down the drive as if they intended to -bolt, whilst her mother and aunt held their breath with anxiety, lest -the wilful driver should come to any harm. - -Jenny drove at a smart pace through the principal ways of Hampstead, -whilst the pedestrians whom she passed said to each other ‘There -goes the beautiful Miss Crampton,’ and she overheard some of their -remarks and flushed with pleasure at the notice she excited. For this -young lady’s besetting sin was an inordinate vanity of her personal -attractions, which she had cultivated to the exclusion of all the -Christian graces. She was a specimen of that most odious of all modern -innovations, the fast girl of the nineteenth century, and she was -vulgar in consequence, for all fast women are vulgar, and obnoxious -in the eyes of everybody but their male admirers. For when will men -be ever sensible enough to separate the value of personal beauty and -mental charm? Not while they have eyes to see. Once touch their senses, -and, for the time their infatuation lasts, you cannot convince them -but that the mind and soul of their goddess equal her body in charm. -Frederick Walcheren was infatuated with the beauty of this girl, and -he believed her disposition to be all that was good and lovable as -well. It appeared so to him, for, whenever they met, Jenny was in her -best temper, and ready to be pleased with everything. Had he even seen -her, as she had been on the present occasion, rude and impertinent to -her parents, cruelly sarcastic to her meek and unoffending aunt, and -obstinately resolved upon having her own way, he would still have taken -her part, declared her to be a suffering angel, and her father and -mother most unjust and tyrannical towards her. Shakespeare never wrote -a greater truism than when he made Rosalind declare that ‘Love is a -madness,’ a madness that blinds our vision, distorts our judgment, and -makes all things, not only apparently, but actually, different from -what they are; when the rose-coloured spectacles have been torn by -circumstance from our eyes, and we wonder we could ever have been such -egregious fools as to think that they were otherwise. - -Miss Crampton, then, with her heart on fire and her soul up in arms, -stopped at the first pillar-box she passed, and bade Brunell post the -letter which she gave him, the letter she had written in her bedroom -and which she knew would reach town before Mr Walcheren left it to meet -her at the house of their mutual friends, the Bouchers. - -And as she flew over the highway, one sentence kept revolving itself -over and over in her mind, and the burden of it was, ‘I will never give -him up, I will never give him up.’ - - - - -CHAPTER III. - - -When Miss Crampton’s letter reached the hands of Mr Frederick -Walcheren, it was by the four o’clock post, and that gentleman was -lying on a couch in his apartments in Nevern Mansions. He was a -handsome man of about thirty, with dark eyes and hair, and classical -features, set in a pale, clear complexion. He was clean shorn, except -for a small, soft moustache, and the possessor of a tall, lithe figure. -He had an ample fortune, having inherited about two thousand a year -from an old Catholic godfather, who died when Frederick was quite an -infant, and who had expressed a wish in his will that his godson and -heir should enter the church, or, at all events, benefit the church by -founding some religious institution at his own death, with the fortune -he left in his charge. But the old gentleman could hardly have chosen a -worse guardian of his property. No embargo had been laid on the young -man spending his money as he chose, and his choice was to spend it on -himself and the companions whom he delighted to honour. His little -flat in Earl’s Court was only a _pied à terre_. His home may have been -said to exist at Epsom, Goodwood, Newmarket, or any one of the other -race-courses in England. He was also to be met periodically at Monte -Carlo or Paris. Occasionally he would take a fancy to run over to New -York or San Francisco, but, wherever he pitched his tent, one might be -sure there were plenty of opportunities for gambling and speculation. -Not but what Frederick Walcheren was a perfectly honourable man; but he -could not live (or he thought he could not live) without excitement of -some sort, and he loved the uncertainty and risk of betting and play. - -His money and his good looks had rendered him an easy prey to the -harpies of the other sex, and had landed him into one or two scrapes -with more respectable women. His cousin, Philip, had often had to -be the go-between and peacemaker with sundry fair damsels, who were -violently bent on a breach of promise case, or a horse-whipping through -means of their next friend. - -Mr Philip Walcheren was quite a different sort of character from his -cousin. Married, and the father of a family, a staunch Catholic, steady -and prosperous in his business as a solicitor, he was almost a pattern -man, and Frederick’s goings-on were a marvel and a misery to him. He -and his director, Father Tasker, were constantly talking over the other -man, and wondering by what means they could dissuade him from his -follies, and induce him to lead a more sober life. But, as yet, their -exhortations and entreaties had been of no avail. Frederick laughed -at their cautions, and pooh-poohed their predictions of a repentant -future. He meant to live his life, he told them, and asked for no one’s -pity or advice. He was in reality, what Mr Crampton and Henry Hindes -had called him, a dissolute and irreclaimable spendthrift, and not fit -to be the husband of any girl. - -Still, he was pleasant and fascinating, and the _beau sexe_ spoilt him, -to a woman. As he lay indolently on his couch this afternoon, turning -Jenny’s letter over and over in his hands, his thoughts were much the -same as hers had been, for of all the femininities he had ever met, and -trifled with, she was the only one who had seriously touched his heart. -Women as handsome as Jenny, and far more amiable, had been ready, -before now, to throw themselves at his feet, but they had had no power -to move him. But for this petulant, spoilt, and rather underbred, girl, -he would have laid down his life. Who can account for anomalies? Is -love--such love as has its origin in admiration--a spiritual passion, -or is it the force of two magnetisms that attract each to each, beyond -the power of the individual to oppose? From the strange choices we see -made in this world, it would seem so. Anyway, this is how Frederick -Walcheren felt for Jenny Crampton--that he would die sooner than give -her up. She seemed, in the short time they had known each other, to -have grown into his life--to have become part of it, indeed--so that he -could no longer imagine living without her. He kept saying to himself -all the while, just as she had done,--‘I will not give her up for any -man or woman upon earth. What do I care about the old wool-stapler -raving? Let him rave. I will carry her off before his very eyes. But -she shall be mine; in fact, she _is_ mine in heart and soul, and I defy -the whole world to separate us.’ - -And, just at that moment, there sounded a double knock on his outer -door, and his man appeared to usher in his cousin, Philip Walcheren -and Father Tasker. - -Frederick sprung to his feet. The instincts of a born Catholic were -still strong in him, and, though he never went to confession or mass, -he always showed a proper deference for the clergy. Added to which, -Father Tasker was an old friend of his family. - -‘How are you, Father,’ he said, ‘I’m glad to see you. Pray take the -arm-chair. Well, Philip! all right at home?’ - -‘Quite right, thank you, Frederick,’ replied his cousin; ‘I was on -my way to have a talk with you when I met Father Tasker, so we came -together.’ - -‘I’m delighted to see you both,’ said Frederick, ‘what can I give you? -I know that it is no use my offering the father a brandy-and-soda, but, -if you will not take one, Philip, my man shall get some tea ready in -half a minute.’ - -‘I don’t think we have time for either,’ replied Philip Walcheren. ‘I -have only about ten minutes to spare, and the Father honours me with -his company at dinner to-night, so I think Marion will be disappointed -if I deprive her of her five-o’clock tea gossip with him. She is, -doubtless, anxiously awaiting us now. But I felt I could not pass -another night without asking you, Frederick, if a rumour which I have -heard concerning you is true.’ - -‘What’s up now?’ demanded his cousin. - -‘I met young Fellows in the city this afternoon, Mrs Bouchers’ brother, -you know, and he told me that it is commonly said in Hampstead that you -are engaged, or about to be engaged, to Miss Crampton.’ - -‘What of it?’ said Frederick carelessly. - -‘Surely it is not true! Surely, with your antecedents, Frederick, you -are not thinking of marrying any respectable woman!’ - -‘Would you prefer my marrying a disreputable one, then, Philip?’ - -‘Most certainly not! What I mean is, that, under the circumstances, you -have no right to marry at all. How can you go up to God’s holy altar -with any woman, whilst that unfortunate girl down at Luton is even now -expiating the awful sin you led her into?’ - -‘Of course, it is quite impossible that it was she who led me instead -of the other way?’ said Frederick, interrogatively. - -‘Whosoever fault it may have been in the first instance, you know that -you are responsible now.’ - -‘And I am quite ready to meet my responsibilities. Do you want me to -marry the straw-plaiter down at Luton?’ - -‘No, no! I want you to do nothing but alter your mode of living, -Frederick, and try and be a decent member of society. It is terrible -to think how you go on, without care for yourself or others, without -a thought of God, or the future that lies before you. If poor Sir -Frederick Ascher had only foreseen the uses his money would have been -put to, he would have thought twice before he left it to you.’ - -‘Yes! but, luckily for me, he didn’t foresee, so I can do as I like -about it. Has Father Tasker a lecture in store for me as well?’ -inquired Frederick, turning to the priest. - -‘No! my son, we are not in the confessional, where I could wish we -met oftener; but I would like to remind you that, although your late -godfather made no actual conditions regarding the expenditure of -the fortune he left you, yet his wishes, that it should be devoted -to the church, were so strongly expressed, as almost to amount to a -demand, and I cannot believe that any blessing will follow a different -disposition of it.’ - -‘I have confessed to no intention of marrying, remember, but should I -ever do so, my wife will be my church, and I shall settle my money upon -her.’ - -But this was a blasphemy that neither Philip Walcheren nor the priest -could pass over in silence. - -‘Be careful, my son, be careful,’ cried the one, ‘lest the curse of -Heaven, and the church you despise, are both provoked against you.’ - -‘I cannot believe, Frederick, that you seriously mean what you say,’ -exclaimed his cousin. ‘The money is only yours for your lifetime, -and, if you do not dedicate it to the holy church at your death, -some fearful calamity will surely overtake you, or those to whom you -wrongfully give it.’ - -‘Nonsense!’ replied Frederick; ‘I suppose you both mean well, but I -would rather you understood me at once. As matters stand at present, -I have not the slightest intention of leaving my money to the church. -My godfather--peace to his ashes!--left it to me, and I recognise -but one authority in the matter, and that is the law, which is on my -side. I wonder, by the way, Philip, that you stick up so badly for the -stability of the profession by which you live!’ - -‘Every consideration must give way to the claims of the church, -Frederick!’ - -‘Well, I don’t agree with you. I think Mother Church has feathered her -own nest pretty well, considering her claims to humility and poverty. -In my idea, my own nest will have the prior claim on my indulgence!’ - -‘So you are really contemplating matrimony, Frederick,’ said Philip. ‘I -wonder you can dare to enter a church under the circumstances, lest the -walls and roof should fall in upon you.’ - -‘Perhaps I shall be married in a registrar’s office,’ responded -Frederick lightly; but the jest was so ill-timed that neither of his -hearers commented upon it. - -‘With the fact of that misguided female down at Luton, you are about to -commit a great sacrilege, my son, in taking the sacrament of matrimony -on yourself!’ remarked Father Tasker. - -‘Well, really, Father, I must say you and Philip are both rather hard -on me! You have been reproaching me for my loose style of living -for years past, and begging me to reform, and now, when you hear a -rumour--merely a rumour, remember--that I’m about to forsake the devil -and all his ways, and become a steady married man, like my good cousin -here, you attack me as if I had just formed a fresh _liaison_ instead. -Why shouldn’t I marry like a good boy, as well as Philip, who is, I -know, a pattern of propriety. Why shouldn’t I walk to mass every Sunday -morning, with a little boy by one hand and a little girl by the other? -It doesn’t seem as if I could please you anyway.’ - -‘You mistake both me and your cousin, my son,’ replied the priest. -‘It is not that we are not most anxious to see you turn over a new -leaf and lead a pure life, but marriage is assuredly a condition of -great temptation for a man situated as you are. It will bring cares -and expenses with it, and your mind will be filled with the thought -of providing for the future of your family. You have been brought up -to no profession, for your sainted mother had no idea that you would -be anything but a priest, and that your godfather’s fortune would go -as he wished it should do, to our holy church. But since you elected -otherwise, there is but one honest course for you to pursue, and that -is, to remain single, and preserve your money intact for the purpose -for which your godfather left it to you. Marriage will interfere with -this, therefore marriage is not for you!’ - -At this juncture Frederick’s temper got the better of his judgment. - -‘Then I’m d--d if the church shall have the money,’ he exclaimed -loudly; ‘all your advice, and precepts, and exhortations to a purer -life count for nothing; they are only made so you may hear yourselves -talk, and plume yourselves with the idea of how much better men you are -than myself. But this matter is in my own jurisdiction, thank goodness, -and I shall do exactly as I choose about it. I shall marry, or remain -single, as pleases me, but, whatever I may do, the church doesn’t get -my money, so you may put that thought out of your heads at once. I’ll -leave it to the Salvation Army, or the Home for Lost Dogs, first.’ - -He had thrown himself into a passion by this time, and he walked -quickly up and down his little room in order to cool his temper. -Philip Walcheren looked as if he expected the heavens to open and -strike his cousin dead for the utterance of such blasphemy, and the -priest rose and prepared to shake the dust of those apartments off his -feet. - -‘Mark my words,’ he said solemnly, as he turned to leave the room, ‘God -will not be mocked, Frederick Walcheren. He knows all our hearts, and -He will avenge himself. Good-morning.’ - -And with that Father Tasker disappeared. - -‘For shame!’ cried Philip, as he prepared to follow him, ‘for shame, -Frederick. You may have law on your side, but you have neither right -nor conscience. You have not told me whether the rumour I mentioned is -true or false, but, if it is true, and you have any such intention in -your head, pause, I beseech you, before you carry it into effect, or -some fearful calamity will follow it. You have defied our holy church, -and God will defend her rights. I shall not come again until you send -for me.’ - -And in another moment the room was clear. - -‘Here, Watson,’ called Frederick to his man, ‘bring me a -whisky-and-soda. I declare,’ he continued to himself, ‘if their twaddle -has not made me quite uncomfortable. What on earth did that old fool, -my godfather, mean by not making his will decisive one way or the -other? _I_ a priest, indeed! No. I mean to live a rather jollier life -than that comes to. And there is only one other decent alternative, to -marry the girl I love, and rear a family for the benefit of the State. -And how can I do that without money? It is ridiculous to think of.’ - -Still, with the superstitious ideas which the Catholic religion infuses -in all her followers, with the childish inbred fear of the priestly -power to save or damn, with the fear of purgatory and a fiery hell, and -becoming an outcast from salvation for ever, Frederick Walcheren did -not feel quite comfortable, though he tried to laugh the feeling off, -and was as resolute as before, that no power in heaven or earth should -separate him from Jenny Crampton. - -‘They are against us on every side,’ he thought, ‘but that fact will -only make me the more determined to have her. My beautiful darling! The -most beautiful woman, in my eyes, that I have ever met. Why, Father -Tasker himself couldn’t resist her, if she stood on one side and hell -on the other. What time is it, Watson? Six-thirty? By Jove! if I don’t -hurry up I shall get no dinner before I start for the Bouchers’.’ - -‘Going to Hampstead again to-night, sir?’ asked Watson, as he laid out -his master’s dress clothes upon the bed. - -How well our servants know where we go, and who we go to see, and what -we do it for. - -‘Yes,’ replied Frederick, ‘to Mrs Bouchers’ dance. You needn’t sit up -for me, Watson, for I shall be very late. Order the brougham to call -for me at Simpson’s at nine o’clock. I shall go on straight from there.’ - -He hurried into his dress clothes, for he was determined that nothing -should make him late that night, for fear he should miss the interview -in the picture gallery after the fourth dance. - -The picture gallery at the Bouchers’ was very seldom entered by any of -their dancing guests, being some way removed from the ballroom, but -both Jenny and Mr Walcheren, being intimate friends at the house, knew -it well. - -Frederick thought rightly that, since a prohibition had gone forth -against his dancing with the girl of his heart, it would be more -prudent if he did not put in an appearance to the ballroom till after -he had held the interview with Jenny. So, when he presented himself -at the house, between nine and ten o’clock, and had divested himself -of his crush hat and overcoat, he peeped into the dancing room to see -how far the evening had advanced. The number two had just been placed -above the bandstand, so he concluded he had at least half an hour to -wait before Jenny could join him, and turned away again to seek the -solitude of the picture gallery until the time of meeting had arrived. - -But he reckoned without his host. Henry Hindes, who had been one of the -earliest arrivals, and on the express look-out for Walcheren, spied -him as soon as he looked into the room, and, rising quietly, followed -him out. So, as soon as Frederick had reached the picture gallery, he -heard a step in his rear, and, turning with annoyance to see who had -discovered the retreat besides himself, met the outstretched hand and -smiling glance of Mr Hindes. Mr Walcheren could not fail to return his -civilities, but he was infinitely vexed. Of all the people he knew, he -would rather have encountered anyone than Mr Hindes. - -Not only because he was so intimately connected with the Cramptons, -and, undoubtedly, knew most of the family secrets, but also because -Frederick had conceived an unaccountable aversion for him. He did -not know _why_ himself. Henry Hindes had always been courteous and -polite to him, far more so, indeed, than Mr Crampton, who invariably -treated a Roman Catholic as if his religion were his own fault, and -he was sinning every day that he didn’t change it. Hindes, on the -contrary, had no scruples on the score of difference of faith, and no -right to object to the young man because he courted Jenny Crampton. -He had always spoken and behaved to him as one gentleman should to -another, and yet Walcheren hated him. Now, as he accepted his hand and -asked after his well-doing, he would have liked to strike him across -his smooth, smiling face instead. Mr Hindes, having no idea that the -young man was waiting to see Miss Crampton, had thought this would be -an excellent opportunity for him to fulfil the promise made to his -partner, and let Mr Walcheren know how utterly hopeless his suit was. - -‘How are you, Walcheren?’ he said, cordially, as he came up with him. -‘You don’t mean to tell me you are going to eschew dancing to-night, -when there are so many pretty girls doing “wallflowers”? I saw you look -into the ballroom and disappear again, and wondered if you had found -your way to a buffet and a whisky-and-soda. I shouldn’t mind following -you if you have, for the night is very warm and I am very thirsty.’ - -‘No, I had no such intention,’ answered Walcheren, in a tone of -annoyance. ‘I fancy it is rather too early for that game. I came in -here because I have a slight headache, and thought the cool and quiet -might charm it away before I encountered the heat and glare of the -ballroom.’ - -‘To be sure, and I daresay it will. This is a charming place, though -one cannot see much of the pictures by night. It is in semi-darkness. -I do not suppose the Bouchers intend their guests to use it on such an -occasion as this, or they would have it better lighted.’ - -‘Perhaps not,’ replied Walcheren. ‘But I am an old friend of the -family, and consider myself privileged to do as I like.’ - -‘Oh! I am not finding fault with your decision, my dear fellow; on the -contrary, I am very glad of the opportunity of a few words in private -with you. It is not often that my wife can drag me out to a dance, and, -to tell you the honest truth, I came here this evening expressly to see -you.’ - -‘To see _me_?’ echoed Walcheren in astonishment. ‘Why, what on earth -can you have to say to me?’ - -‘Nothing on my account, my dear friend, unless it were to tell you -(what I hope you know) that I have always been pleased to welcome you -to my house, and always shall be. But I am, as I think you are aware, -a very intimate friend of Mr and Mrs Crampton, who were, indeed, the -intimate friends also of my father before me, and who have known me -almost from a child.’ - -‘I know it,’ replied Frederick. ‘What of it?’ - -‘Mr Crampton sent for me before ten o’clock this morning, and I found -him in the greatest distress. His wife had intercepted a letter from -you to Miss Crampton, and the contents had terribly upset him.’ - -‘Passing over the fact that I consider it a breach of honour to pry -into the private correspondence of anybody, I am not aware that there -was anything in the letter alluded to that was calculated to upset Mr -Crampton,’ said Frederick. - -‘I don’t sanction the proceeding, my dear Walcheren; I am only telling -you the facts. The old gentleman was more than upset; he was terribly -angry, and he made his daughter give him a solemn promise not to see (of -her own free will), or speak, or write to you again.’ - -‘And pray, may I ask,’ cried Frederick Walcheren in a sudden fury, -‘what business it is of yours, Mr Hindes, to mention the subject to me?’ - -‘None at all, but I owe it to the entreaty of my friends. Both Mr and -Mrs Crampton have begged me to convey their wishes to you. They have -derived so much pleasure from your society as an acquaintance, and -think so highly of your intentions with regard to their daughter, that -they dreaded the task of telling you personally, that they can never -give their sanction to a marriage between you.’ - -‘Perhaps, as they told you so much, they were good enough to add their -reasons for so extraordinary a decision,’ exclaimed Walcheren, in a -tone of sarcasm. - -‘Certainly they did, and it is one with which you cannot find serious -fault. The objection is your religion. Mr Crampton will never allow -his daughter to inter-marry with a Catholic, and his decision is -irrevocable. Since your feelings for Miss Crampton cannot have gone -beyond admiration, considering the short time you have known her, -he thought it best you should hear his decision at once, before any -mischief is done on either side.’ - -‘And Miss Crampton’s feelings? Are they not to be taken into -consideration also?’ - -‘Most certainly! There is nothing on earth Mr Crampton cares for so -much as his only child! She is his heiress, as doubtless you know, but -he will leave her nothing if she marries against his wishes. He is very -obstinate when thwarted, and very unrelenting. And Miss Crampton would -hardly be so foolish as to give up her fortune, as well as her parents, -at one blow. Under these circumstances, I hope you will not take -offence, my dear Walcheren, if I ask you, in his name, to relinquish -your acquaintanceship with Miss Crampton, and to leave off visiting -at the house. It is an unpleasant task my friends have set me, but I -have done it for their sakes, and without any ulterior feeling against -yourself. I have not a daughter old enough to aspire to your hand,’ -said Henry Hindes, smiling, ‘but if I had, I am not sure that I should -deliver such a message to you on my own account!’ - -But Frederick Walcheren took no notice of this little sop for Cerberus. - -‘Have the Cramptons any other objection to me besides that of my -religion?’ he asked presently. - -‘Well! my dear fellow,’ replied Henry Hindes, dubiously, ‘rumours have -been conveyed to them of your life having been a little fast, not more -than that of other men of the world, I daresay, but these old people do -not regard such matters with the same eyes that you and I should do. -They have only mixed in a certain society, you see, and know little -of the sayings and doings of fashionable men and women. They have -very strict notions concerning propriety, and you cannot shake their -opinions on the subject. But the real objection is to your religion. -_That_ is insurmountable! They will never overlook it.’ - -‘It is most unfair,’ exclaimed Frederick; ‘how is a man to help what -his parents chose to make him? Besides, I have no religion at all! I -believe in nothing, not a God, nor a Hereafter, nor a Heaven, nor a -Hell! Will that suit them better?’ - -Mr Hindes laughed heartily at the idea. - -‘Pray don’t hint at such a thing, Walcheren,’ he said, ‘or they would -think you were the old gentleman himself! But we must really talk -seriously about this matter. Mr Crampton is obdurate, and will remain -so. He declares that unless you will give your promise not to interfere -with his daughter for the future, he will take her away from Hampstead -and out of your reach, and keep her there until one of you is married. -I am sure you are too much a gentleman and man of honour to upset a -whole family in that way, in order to gratify your spite against them. -For it will not lead to your being readmitted to the house, and Miss -Crampton will be strictly watched for the future.’ - -Frederick Walcheren was thinking very deeply on the matter, and his -thoughts ran thus, ‘I must overcome these people by diplomacy. If I -refuse to give this promise, I shall be watched so closely that I shall -never get speech of Jenny again; whereas, if I pretend to give in to -their demands, I shall throw them off their guard. And the first thing -I must do is to get rid of this fellow!’ Aloud he said,-- - -‘I am deeply grieved to hear of Mr Crampton’s decision, but I see the -wisdom of it. Naturally, I admire Miss Crampton very much, I wonder who -doesn’t, but, to tell truth, I anticipated a great deal of opposition -from my own family, if it ever came to anything serious. They are as -staunch for the old faith as ever Mr Crampton can be for his. Mixed -marriages are, after all, a mistake. I am glad, therefore, that you -have spoken so frankly and openly to me, and I thank you for it. Will -you tell Mr Crampton that I acquiesce in his decision, and willingly -give my promise not to intrude upon his daughter, or himself, again. -You have been a true friend to both of us, Hindes. Accept my hand on -it. And now I think I will just go home without running the risk of -encountering _la belle_ Jenny. It will please Mr Crampton if he hears -that I have done so. And my headache really unfits me for any violent -exercise. Good-night. Are you going back to the ballroom? If so, we -will walk to the front of the house together.’ - -‘Yes; I must go back to wait for my wife, who is enjoying herself -just like a girl. I shall not say a word to Miss Crampton of having -seen you. It will be better to let her think you have been prevented -attending the party.’ - -‘Most certainly, and assure Mr Crampton that he has nothing to fear -from me. Good-night again,’ and the two men parted at the hall door, -with a shake of the hand. - -Frederick Walcheren went forth into the darkness, whilst Henry Hindes, -congratulating himself on the diplomatic manner in which he had -executed his embassage, and the easy victory he had gained over the -enemy, re-entered the ballroom, and took his seat there, with the most -perfect assurance that all danger was over. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - - -But he did not quite know Frederick Walcheren. Perhaps, also, he did -not how know cunning Love makes a man. The younger man had assumed his -overcoat and hat, and gone forth at the hall door, as if he had but one -intention--to seek the railway station, since his brougham had returned -to town. But, once clear of the scrutiny of the servants, he skirted -the house on the left side, and passed from the front garden to the -back, which is easily done in most suburban houses. This brought him -on to a large lawn, from which the interior of the lighted ballroom -might be easily seen through the open windows. Also, by turning the -other corner of the mansion, he could, by pressing his face against -the glass, see if the picture gallery was occupied or not, though he -remained himself unseen. The windows of this room were also thrown -open, and Frederick waited at one of them until he saw the white-robed -figure of Jenny Crampton steal in, and glance furtively around as if in -search of him. - -‘Jenny, Jenny,’ he called softly, lest she should be followed by the -friend of the family, ‘Jenny, my love, come here, to this window.’ - -‘What is this?’ cried the girl as she perceived him; ‘why are you here? -Is anything wrong?’ - -‘Nothing is wrong whilst you love me,’ said Frederick, ‘but we are -watched, darling, so I have pretended to go home again. Have you the -pluck to join me in the garden? There are any number of arbours here -where we can talk undisturbed.’ - -‘Pluck,’ cried Jenny, jumping on the window sill, ‘of course I have. -Pluck enough to follow you over a precipice, if you wish me to do so.’ - -‘You angel. I will ask you to take no more dangerous leap than into my -arms. But were you seen? Did anyone follow you? We must not have an -open row.’ - -‘No, no one even saw me leave the ballroom, for I was at the buffet -with Captain Rawson, when number five dance struck up, so I told him to -go and find his partner and leave mine to seek me out. And as soon as -his back was turned I slipped out here.’ - -‘You dear girl! Give me your hand, then, and jump out; there is a -lovely seat under that acacia tree--but what will you say if your -mother asks where you have been?’ - -‘That I have been strolling in the garden with my partner. She will -think it was Captain Rawson; but she will not ask. She is used to my -vagaries, and lets me do just as I choose.’ - -‘But, darling, they won’t let you do that any longer, I’m afraid. I’ve -had a lecture as well as you, Jenny. Mr Hindes followed me to the -picture gallery just now, by your father’s request, and made me promise -I would give up all pretensions to your hand, and leave off visiting at -your house.’ - -‘And do you mean to keep your promise?’ inquired the girl, pouting. - -‘Not unless you tell me to do so, Jenny; I love you too much for that. -I only did it to prevent a row, for if Mr Crampton carried his threat -of taking you away from Hampstead into execution, I might find it very -difficult to have any communication with you again.’ - -‘But what is the good of my staying here if I am never to see you, -Fred?’ asked Jenny. - -‘That depends upon yourself, my darling; you can’t do it from your -father’s house, that’s certain.’ - -‘Who’s from, then?’ said Jenny. - -‘From mine, sweetheart! Don’t think me very bold, but, if you love me -as you say, you will marry me whether your parents give their consent -or not.’ - -‘So I will, if you will only tell me how, Fred.’ - -‘We must elope together, dearest; heaps of husbands and wives have done -it before us, and been none the worse. Your father says that if you -marry without his consent, he will leave you none of his money; that is -a thing you must take into serious consideration, before you give me -your answer. I have enough for both of us, still, you would be a richer -woman if you remained your father’s heiress; his fortune cannot be less -than ten thousand a year, whilst mine is only two thousand.’ - -‘What do I care for money in comparison with you, Fred?’ whispered -Jenny. - -‘That’s my own true girl,’ he answered, folding her closely to him, -‘and once you have made up your mind to marry me without your father’s -consent, the rest is easy enough. Tell me to get a licence, and to give -notice at the nearest registrar’s office to my place, and you have only -to arrange how you can join me, so as to give us a few hours’ start of -Mr Crampton, and I will have you out of his reach and power before the -day is over.’ - -‘To join you, dearest, is easily managed,’ replied the girl. ‘I must -take a few things with me, you know, Fred! To run away in the clothes -I stand up in, would be altogether too romantic for the nineteenth -century. But I can send a box to my dressmaker’s, under pretence of -wanting some dresses altered--no one interferes with my dress at -home--and then, when you let me know which day I am to be in town, I -will drive myself over, as if to go shopping; tell Brunell to put the -cobs up for a few hours, and call for me at Madame Costello’s at 5 -o’clock, and _apres ça, le deluge_!’ - -‘A deluge of love, my darling--a life of happiness, during which I -shall have but one thought--one aspiration--how I can best repay my -darling angel for the sacrifice she has made for me. And, perhaps, -after a time, your parents will come round. I cannot believe but that -they will forgive our temerity in the end, and all will be merry as a -marriage bell.’ - -‘Oh! poor mamma has nothing to do with it, Fred. I honestly believe she -would let me marry a crossing-sweeper if I had set my heart upon it. I -never remember her saying “No” to me since I was a baby. It is papa who -is making all the fuss, and he is as obstinate as a pig. He thinks it -is a sign of his own religion, to kick up such a dust about your being -a Catholic, but I say he only proves he is no Christian by it. What -can it signify if one is a Protestant or a Catholic? I am sure, for my -own part, I would as soon be one as the other, and preferably neither. -If you wish me to become a Catholic, Fred, I will to please you, but I -hope you won’t expect me to go to church and hear sermons, for if there -is one thing beyond another for which I long to get married, it is to -have my liberty in such matters. Papa and mamma have sickened me of -church-going. Aunt Clem, too, who is so very pious, has a face long -enough to turn the milk sour. It is not encouraging to a girl to go and -do likewise.’ - -Frederick Walcheren laughed as he kissed the speaker. - -‘My darling!’ he answered, ‘I daresay your people have warned you that -I am not a particularly good young man, but I can boast of one merit--I -have never pretended to be better than I am. My cousin, Philip, and his -great friend, Father Tasker, consider me a lost soul, but they cannot -say that I am a dishonest one. They have heard some rumour--how, Heaven -only knows--that I am very _épris_ in a certain quarter, and put in an -appearance at my rooms this afternoon to learn if it was true that I -contemplated matrimony. You may take your oath that I did not gratify -their curiosity. They want to get me into the church, so that they may -grab my money. They’ve been trying it on for years, but this fish won’t -bite!’ - -‘But, Fred, darling, would anything on earth ever make you go into the -church?’ inquired Jenny, rather anxiously. - -‘Nothing on earth,’ he replied, quickly; but, after a slight pause, -he added, ‘at least only _one_ thing, and that is too dreadful to -contemplate. If you were taken from me, my treasure--if anything -happened to you and I were left alone--I should be mad enough for -anything--even to go into a monastery, and sacrifice every farthing I -possess. What good would money be to me without my love?’ - -He pressed her closely to him as he spoke, and the two young faces -were laid against each other, and the two young forms seemed to melt -for a moment into one. But in another moment Jenny had sprung up to a -standing position. - -‘I must go, dear Fred,’ she exclaimed, ‘or they will miss me, and Mr -Hindes may be sent to find out where I am. Good-bye, good-bye, my -darling. How soon do you think I shall have your letter?’ - -‘The day after to-morrow, love! To-morrow morning I shall be in -Doctors’ Commons for the licence, and will wire you simply, “All right, -Costello.” Then, should the telegram fall into other hands, it will -be thought to come from the dressmaker. On receipt of this, you must -drive over on the following day to Madame Costello’s, and leave your -box there, and as soon as you have dismissed Brunell and the trap, I -will take you to the registrar’s office, and, when the knot is securely -tied, we will pick up the box and be off to Dover. Will that suit your -ladyship? Brunell will call for you at Costello’s at five o’clock, and, -after waiting about for a considerable time, will return to Hampstead -and give the alarm. By which time my wife and I will be enjoying our -dinner at the Castle Warden, and laughing over the adventures of our -wedding-day.’ - -‘Oh, Fred, it seems too good to come true,’ said the girl, with a -slight shiver. - -‘Nonsense, my dearest. It will come true, sure enough. But you are -cold, my pretty Jenny. I have been a selfish brute to keep you out -here so long. Let me take you back to the picture gallery. Or is it -wiser you should go alone? Good-night, then, and God bless you. Give me -one kiss, and don’t forget to meet me the day after you receive that -wire!’ - -‘As if I _could_ forget,’ replied the girl reproachfully, as she raised -her face for her lover’s embrace, and, with his assistance, re-entered -the picture gallery, and walked slowly back to the ballroom, to tell -her mother she had such a terrible fit of neuralgia, she would rather -return home at once. - -Mr and Mrs Hindes, who were seated near Mrs Crampton, were all -solicitude for her assumed indisposition, and Mr Hindes suggested -taking her for a turn in the fresh air to see if the change from the -heated ballroom would relieve her. Mrs Hindes, a tall, slight woman, -with dark eyes and hair, and a graceful figure, who was really attached -to Jenny, inquired with whom she had been dancing the last set, as she -had looked for her in vain. - -‘I have not been dancing at all,’ replied Jenny, boldly; ‘I have been -sitting in the picture gallery with Lord Craven, but my head gets worse -instead of better. Come along, mother, the carriage must be waiting for -us by this time, and I am tired to death. I want to get to bed.’ - -‘Certainly, my love,’ replied Mrs Crampton, with her usual lamb-like -acquiescence to all her daughter’s demands; ‘perhaps Mr Hindes will be -good enough to see us to the carriage.’ - -And Henry Hindes, who was convinced that Miss Crampton’s neuralgia was -due to Mr Walcheren’s defalcation, smiled inwardly, and conducted the -ladies to their barouche, with much satisfaction that he had conducted -the business he had taken on himself so successfully. - -When Jenny Crampton reached home and found herself in the seclusion of -her bedroom, she did not give way to any access of nervous agitation, -or feel any trepidation at the thoughts of the important step which -she had taken on herself. That might be all very well for a damsel of -romance of a hundred years ago, but it is not the way the young women -of the present day manage their affairs. They are too strong-minded, -to cry and shake and faint over the deeds they have put their sign and -seal to. Jenny had made an appeal to become the wife of Mr Walcheren -in a fair way, and her request had been denied her, for what she -considered a frivolous objection. She knew there was no chance of -altering her father’s decision, and having always been given her own -way since a child, she determined to take it now. She regretted having -to be married privately, but she saw no wrong in it. Her parents might -be sorry when they heard of it, but they had brought it on themselves. -She was not going to keep Frederick waiting for an indefinite period, -and perhaps lose him altogether, because her father did not like Roman -Catholics as well as he did Protestants. _She_ didn’t object to his -religion, and she was the principal party concerned, so the young lady -looked out the dresses she wished to take with her, and made her maid -Ellen pack them in the box to take to the dressmaker’s, and, when the -key was in her own hands, she unlocked it again and added the articles -of linen and jewellery that she needed, and managed the whole affair as -coolly as if she had been preparing for elopements all her life. On the -Friday--it was on a Thursday that she received the wire to tell her all -was right, and it was on a Friday that her ill-regulated marriage took -place--she dressed herself in her most becoming tailor-made costume, -and drove gaily off to town, with a wave of her hand and a crack of her -whip as a last adieu to the mother and aunt who loved her devotedly. -She had promised them privately that she would be back to luncheon, -unless her cousins, the Burtons, were at home again (which she did not -anticipate), and pressed her to stay the afternoon. - -‘But, Jenny, love!’ expostulated her mother, ‘don’t stay later than -two, even if they do! Pray be home before papa comes back from the -city. Remember how very particular he is about your driving in town by -yourself, and I’m afraid he may blame me, if he finds I have let you go -with only Brunell.’ - -‘My dear mother, as if Brunell were not a better protection for me than -fifty fat old men like papa. Now, don’t worry, there’s a good creature, -for I shall be back long before dinner time, but you know what Costello -is, and how difficult it is to get away from her. And perhaps I sha’n’t -go to the Burtons at all. So keep up your pecker, and don’t expect me -till you see me. Good-bye,’ and with a flourish she was off. - -She drove rapidly to Kensington, and, on arrival, directed her groom to -put up the cobs and get himself some dinner, and call for her at Mrs -Burton’s house in Cromwell Road at five o’clock. The man touched his -hat, the box was lifted out, and Miss Jenny entered the dressmaker’s -abode. - -‘Madame Costello,’ she commenced, ‘this is a box of things belonging -to my cousin, Miss Burton, which I am just going to take to her in -Cromwell Road. I have brought it here first that you may take out the -canvas dress you made for me, and which is just a trifle tight under -the arms. No, I have no time to have it fitted on, thank you. Tell the -dressmaker to let it out half an inch under both sleeves. That will be -quite sufficient.’ - -And, unlocking the box, the little diplomatist took out an old dress, -which she had laid at the top, and locked the rest of its contents up -again. Frederick Walcheren was waiting for her round the corner, she -had spied him as she drove up to the door. - -‘My cousin is waiting to take me on to Cromwell Road,’ she said to -Madame Costello, as she beckoned him to advance. ‘Ah, Fred,’ she -continued, ‘you must call a cab for me, for I have been obliged to send -the trap on to pick up papa, who wishes to join us. Have you one ready? -That’s right. Good-morning, Madame Costello. You needn’t hurry with the -alterations, for I shall not want that dress again just yet.’ - -And with that Miss Crampton entered the cab and was soon whirling away -to the registrar’s office. - -‘I never saw anything more neatly managed in my life,’ was her first -remark. ‘Mamma has reason not to expect me home till five or six. I -told Brunell not to call for me at Cromwell Road till five, so he can’t -be back in Hampstead till six or seven, and by that time--’ - -‘By that time you will be Mrs Frederick Walcheren past all recall,’ -said her lover, joyfully. - -But at that the girl seemed suddenly to lose her self-possession for -the first time. - -‘Oh! Fred,’ she cried, ‘what am I doing? Oh! do stop and let me out -before it is too late! I was mad to come! It is too wicked! My people -will never forgive me,’ and she struggled to loose herself from his -detaining clasp. - -‘Jenny, my dearest,’ he exclaimed, ‘be reasonable, for my sake, do! -It is too late to go back now. I have made every arrangement for our -staying at the Castle Warden Hotel. Besides, would you disappoint me in -so terrible a manner, after having passed your plighted word to be my -wife? I am sure you won’t! What should I do without you, Jenny? What -would you do without me? If we part now, it must be for ever! Don’t -make both our lives unhappy for a little want of courage.’ - -‘No, no, I must go on, I feel it! I cannot live without you, Fred. I -love you too dearly! Do just as you will with me!’ - -‘I had a little difficulty with the licence business yesterday,’ he -whispered, as they travelled onwards; ‘they wanted to have the written -consent of your guardians, or my assurance that you were of age, so I -swore you were. It was the only way out of it, my darling, and quite -justifiable, in my eyes, under the circumstances; but I thought I would -put you on your guard in case the registrar put any awkward questions -to you concerning it.’ - -‘It doesn’t signify,’ replied the girl in a dejected tone. Now that the -goal of her desires was so nearly reached, her high spirits seemed all -to have evaporated, and she was trembling and nervous. ‘I have had to -tell so many lies to manage the business, that one more or less cannot -make much difference.’ - -‘Jenny, my own girl, what has come over you?’ asked Walcheren in some -alarm. ‘Are you not well? Do you not love me as much as you thought you -did? Your mood is not complimentary, dearest, to the coming ceremony. -If you really repent the step you have taken, say so, and at all costs, -if it breaks my heart, I will get out of the cab and you shall return -to Madame Costello’s. Jenny, do you no longer wish to be my wife?’ - -But, at that awful alternative, Jenny’s sudden weakness evaporated and -she clung to her lover, as if all her hopes in this world and the next -centred in him. - -‘Yes! yes! yes!’ she exclaimed eagerly, ‘you are my life--my all. I -cannot live without you, or away from you. It is only a sudden fear -of the consequences of this step we are taking which terrified me. It -is gone now, dear Frederick, indeed it has. What fear could I have in -becoming your wife. You, whom I love beyond all other things. Only, my -poor parents, my poor, good mother, Fred. How I wish she had said, “God -bless you, Jenny,” as we parted. She has been such a kind mother to me, -and she will miss me so. She will have nothing to occupy her thoughts, -or her hands, poor mother, now I am gone. Do you think I shall ever see -them again, Fred?--my parents, and poor old Aunt Clem. Do you think my -father will keep them from me _all_ my life?’ - -She spoke so rapidly and excitedly, and she clung to him so tightly, -that Frederick Walcheren feared she was what the lower orders call -‘going off her head,’ and said all he could think of to soothe her. - -‘No! no! my darling girl, what can you be thinking of, to ask me such a -silly question? Of course, your father will come round in time. The old -gentleman is too fond and proud of you himself to hold out very long. -It is _I_ on whom he will pour out the vials of his wrath. Come, let me -dry those tears. We are almost at the registrar’s office now, and he -will think I am inveigling you into a marriage against your will if he -sees you crying. Perhaps he will take it for a case of abduction, and -order me to be locked up, until he has found out where you come from, -and if I have carried you off by force. And then there will be the old -gentleman to pay, and no pitch hot.’ - -Jenny laughed at the expression and let Frederick kiss away her tears, -and in another half hour, they walked out of the registrar’s office -together man and wife. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - - -Henry Hindes’ house was the most remarkable in Hampstead. It was -called ‘The Old Hall,’ and was supposed to have been built more than -two hundred years before. It was situated within ten minutes’ walk -of Mr Crampton’s place, ‘The Cedars,’ but the two mansions belonged -to different eras of the world’s history. ‘The Cedars’ was fitted in -the most luxurious style. Everything that money could possibly buy, -or build up, had been added to it, to increase its convenience and -comfort. It revelled in glass houses, expensive out-buildings, swimming -and other baths, and all the luxuries of the prevailing season. But -everything about it was painfully new. Mr Crampton had purchased a -freehold of the ground, and built ‘The Cedars’ for himself, or rather -for the daughter who was to come after him. Often had he said to his -wife that when their Jenny married, they would find a smaller place -for themselves, and make ‘The Cedars’ part of her marriage portion. -Consequently, he had lavished money upon it, letting the builders and -upholsterers have their own way in everything, because it was only -so much more for Jenny, when she came, like a young queen, into the -property her father’s love had prepared for her. - -But ‘The Old Hall’ was a very different sort of dwelling-place. Henry -Hindes was a man of refined tastes and culture, a man who, before he -had come into his father’s business, had travelled much and seen the -world of art and science, and cultivated his mind, and raised his ideas -of beauty and workmanship. He hated business and all its details, and, -had it not been for his children’s sake, and the loss it would prove to -them, would have sold his share of it for whatever it might fetch, and -given up his life to the pursuit of his fancy. As it was, he refreshed -himself, in the intervals of less congenial work, by making his home as -beautiful as he could, but in a very different fashion from that of the -Cramptons. - -‘The Old Hall’ had low-roofed rooms, wainscotted with black oak, into -which he would not permit the innovation of gas, and ghostly corridors -that ran the whole length of the building, and stained glass windows -which let in very little light, and made the house dark and gloomy in -the eyes of such Philistines as could not appreciate medieval customs, -and the relics of barbarism which made the delight of its owner’s heart. - -He was the possessor, too, of an admirable collection of paintings, -mostly of grim and melancholy subjects, but valuable in their way, -and well in accordance with the mummies, sarcophagæ, curious gems and -stones, and other curiosities which he had gathered on his travels and -stored up in remembrance of them. His was a charming household, and -his collection of odds and ends were the only gloomy things in it. -His wife, Hannah Hindes, was a cultured and intelligent gentlewoman, -eminently fond of him, and regarding his powerful brain and capacity -for business with an admiration which bordered on reverence; and he -was the father of three handsome and healthy children, all of whom he -loved, and one of whom he idolised--to wit, Master Walter Hindes, his -only son, an infant of some two years old. - -To see Henry Hindes with this child in his fine old garden was to see -him at his best--he was so partial to floriculture, and such a student -of botany; though in this, as in other things, he would not allow -fashion to trample sweetness and commonsense under foot. In the large, -shady garden of ‘The Old Hall’ were to be found all sorts of flowers, -growing together in the same bed. No ribbon borders or collections of -prize begonias, or pelargoniums, of giant blossoms, or dwarfed bushes, -transformed it into the semblance of a nurseryman’s plot of ground; -but sweet-smelling herbs grew amongst the choicer plants, and high and -low bloomed side by side, as they used to do in the long ago. - -In the summer weather, Henry Hindes spent almost all his spare time -in his garden with his children, and was apparently quite happy with -his own thoughts and them. Hannah Hindes was a woman who never grated -on her husband’s finer sensibilities. She was loving, tender and -conscientious; but she seldom obtruded herself or her opinions on him, -and never in opposition to his own. She was always there when needed, -calm and intelligent, ready to give advice but not eager to thrust it -down one’s throat; a restful sort of woman for a man to come home to -after a hard and perhaps harassing day’s work. - -And she had in her turn an admirable husband, for Mr Hindes was -mild-tempered and indulgent; never found fault with anything his wife -did, or wished to do, and was always quick to think of her comfort and -that of her children. - -A few mornings after the dance at the Bouchers’, they were strolling -together under the shade of an avenue of elm trees, which formed the -approach to the house, and he was telling her of his interview with -Frederick Walcheren. One of the little girls, Elsie, was holding her -mother by the hand, whilst the other, Laura, was wandering in front -of them, and the son and heir, was perched on his father’s shoulder, -enjoying a ride. In the length and breadth of England, you could hardly -have found a more united, or happier family. - -‘I did not much relish the task, Hannah,’ he was saying to his wife, -‘when Mr Crampton entrusted it to me, for I anticipated a tough battle -with the young gentleman. A man does not particularly care to have a -stranger intermeddle with his love affairs--’ - -‘Oh! but Mr Walcheren could never look on you as a stranger,’ -interposed Mrs Hindes, ‘he must know how very intimate you are with -the family and that you have known dear Jenny almost since she was -born.’ - -‘Not quite that, Hannah,’ said her husband, wincing, for he did not -like to be reminded that he was ‘getting on,’ ‘but long enough, at -all events, to act as her father’s ambassador. Anyhow, I thought he -would resent my speaking to him, and perhaps cause a bit of a scandal; -but, to my surprise, he took it so quietly and so much as a matter of -course, that I begin to think he was never in earnest, and was rather -glad than otherwise, of an opportunity to withdraw without dishonour.’ - -‘Then he must be a scoundrel!’ replied Mrs Hindes, with unusual -vehemence for her gentle nature, ‘for I am witness that he behaved to -dear Jenny just as if he were in earnest. I have been with them often, -_you_ know, Henry, when there has been no one else by, and if ever a -man pretended to be in love with a woman, Mr Walcheren did!’ - -‘Anyone would “spoon” a little, with such a pretty girl, if she gave -him the opportunity, my dear,’ replied Mr Hindes, ‘and our dear Jenny -is a bit of a flirt, you must allow that. I wouldn’t trust her with a -grandfather, if I valued his peace of mind.’ - -‘I don’t know what you mean by “spoon,”’ said Mrs Hindes, who professed -to understand no modern slang, ‘but he looked at her and spoke to her -as if he loved her and wished her to love him, and, if he meant nothing -by it, all I can say is that he deserves a much worse reprimand than a -mere hint to cease his visits at the house. Why, he might have broken -darling Jenny’s heart!’ - -‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed her husband; ‘she doesn’t care for the -fellow!’ - -‘Who can say if she cares for him or not, Henry? Women don’t run about, -as a rule, telling everyone they meet of their predilections for -gentlemen who have not yet proposed for them.’ - -‘But, good God! do you mean to insinuate that the girl’s happiness is -likely to be affected by this business? You must be mistaken! Jenny -would never be such a fool as to risk losing all her father’s money for -the sake of the first young jackanapes who says he loves her!’ - -‘She may like the jackanapes better than the money, Henry. I don’t -think women stick at much where their hearts are concerned. Besides, -has not Mr Walcheren a fortune of his own?’ - -‘Perhaps--I don’t know--unless he has already made ducks and drakes of -it,’ replied Henry Hindes, wiping the perspiration from his forehead. -‘But Jenny has never thought of him seriously, I am sure of it! Her -father was telling me only yesterday, that her demeanour has not -changed in the least since he told her she must give him up, but is -as cheerful and lively as usual. That doesn’t look as if she was very -miserable over the loss, eh, Hannah?’ - -‘Perhaps she does not believe she shall lose him,’ observed his wife. - -‘What do you mean by that?’ - -‘Nothing particular, only Jenny may derive comfort from looking -forward to the time when she will be of age and able to please -herself. It seems unnatural to me that they should give each other up -so cheerfully, and it is not Jenny’s disposition either. You seem to -forget what a self-willed little mortal she is! And Mr Walcheren is so -good-looking too. I am sure Jenny has positively raved to me about his -beauty. And where will he find such another girl? I thought she looked -more like an angel than a woman at the Bouchers’ on Wednesday. So pure -and sweet and fresh in that white dress, and with those lovely eyes of -hers shining like two stars. Don’t you think she has the very loveliest -eyes in the world, Hal?’ - -‘Yes! yes! very pretty, certainly; but handsome is as handsome does, -Hannah, and I should be dreadfully grieved if I thought Jenny could be -capable of wilfully deceiving her parents. It would break their hearts. -If you fancy she may be (and you women know best about each other as a -rule), tell me so, and I will warn the Cramptons. It will be my duty to -do so, for they are the oldest friends I possess.’ - -Mrs Hindes was just about to answer her husband’s query, when they were -both startled by the appearance of Mr Crampton coming up the drive -towards them. There was evidently something unusual about his visit. In -the first place, the old man was walking, a most unheard of exertion -on his part, and, in the second, he would, in the ordinary course of -events, have met his partner in a few minutes in the train, as this -was Saturday, when they made a point of going to the City together, in -order to pay the workmen’s wages, and set things generally right for -the ensuing week. - -‘My dear Crampton! what on earth is the matter?’ cried Henry Hindes, -putting down his child, and hastening to his partner. - -Mr Crampton’s face, which was always of a fine roseate hue, was now -positively purple, and, from fast walking and agitation, he found it -impossible to articulate. Hannah feared he was going to have a fit, and -urged her husband to get him to the house before he attempted to tell -them what was amiss. Even when he was placed in a library chair, it was -some minutes before he could find breath to speak, and, meanwhile, the -distress pictured on his features was unmistakable. - -‘My dear friend,’ said Mr Hindes, with the greatest concern, ‘are you -ill? Is anything wrong at home? For God’s sake, speak, and put us out -of this terrible suspense!’ - -‘She’s gone, Hindes! she’s gone!’ gasped Mr Crampton at last. - -‘Gone? Who? Not Jenny?’ cried Mrs Hindes. - -The old man nodded his head. - -‘Not dead?’ said Hindes, turning as white as a sheet. - -‘No! No! Gone off with that scoundrel Walcheren,’ replied Mr Crampton, -who had somewhat recovered himself. ‘Didn’t you tell me that he -promised to give up all pretensions to her hand, and to leave off -visiting her or writing to her?’ - -‘He did, most emphatically!’ said Hindes. ‘I was just telling my wife -about it.’ - -‘And so did she--so did Jenny,’ continued the father, in a broken -voice; ‘and they were both lying to us, sir--both lying! She has left -us for him. She writes she is married to him--that it is of no use our -attempting any opposition, and we may keep our worthless money for -ourselves--and our broken hearts too, I suppose,’ he added, in a lower -tone. - -‘But it is impossible--there must be some mistake--how did it happen?’ -cried Henry Hindes, excitedly. - -‘Well, they must have managed to have some communication with each -other since Wednesday, for the girl joined him yesterday. My wife is -such a fool--God forgive me for calling her by such a name!--that she -never exercised the least supervision over the child, and yesterday -morning it seems that Jenny said she was going to her dressmaker’s, -and they let her set off alone with Brunell. She told him on reaching -town--this is the man’s story, remember--to put up the horses, and call -for her at the Burtons in Cromwell Road, at five o’clock. He was there -to his time, and waited outside for an hour, when a caretaker came to -the door and asked him what he was waiting for. On his telling her, she -said that no young lady had been there that day--that the family was -still out of town, and she didn’t know when they were likely to be home -again. On hearing that, Brunell drove to Madame Costello’s, but learned -there that Jenny had left directly he drove off in the morning, and -had not returned since. A gentleman, her cousin, the woman said, had -fetched her away in a cab. The man came back with this story, and you -may imagine the night we have had. My wife was sure it was all right, -but I knew the end from the beginning.’ - -‘Don’t despair, sir, until you are quite sure,’ said Hannah, with ready -sympathy. - -‘I _am_ sure, Mrs Hindes. We sat up all night, and the first post this -morning brought us that.’ - -He threw down a scribbled note on the table as he spoke, and Hannah -picked it up, for her husband seemed too paralysed at the calamity that -had overtaken his friends, to be able to do anything. The note ran -thus:-- - - ‘DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--I could not give Frederick up, as you - desired me to do, because we love each other too much, so we were - married this morning at the Earl’s Court Registrar Office, where you - can see the entry if you doubt my word. Don’t be too angry with me. - Remember I am your only child.--Yours affectionately, - - JENNY WALCHEREN.’ - -‘That’s a nice letter for a man to receive, who has idolised his -child for twenty years, isn’t it, Mrs Hindes?’ asked Mr Crampton -sarcastically. ‘Remember she is my only child; indeed, I’m not likely -to forget it, I can tell Miss Jenny that. And I’ll never see her again, -not if I live another fifty years!’ - -‘Oh, don’t say that. You don’t know what may happen to alter your -mind,’ said Hannah, as she took the old man’s hand in hers and pressed -it warmly. ‘You love her dearly, and she loves you. Things will not -look so black when you are more used to them. After all, Mr Walcheren -comes of a good family, and--’ - -‘And is a Papist,’ interrupted Mr Crampton angrily, ‘a member of the -faith which I despise and abhor and contemn--the faith which will bring -my wretched daughter down to hell with himself. No, Mrs Hindes, my -dear; you mean kindly, but don’t talk to me of ever seeing this matter -in a better light.’ - -‘But she is under age,’ said Henry Hindes, speaking for the first -time. ‘How could he marry her without the written consent of her -guardians?’ - -‘By a lie, of course. He must have sworn she was of age. It came -natural to a Papist, no doubt. They’re made of lies, religion and all! -It’s a proper beginning for a life of deception and ingratitude.’ - -‘But if the licence has been obtained under false pretences, Crampton,’ -said Mr Hindes eagerly, ‘it may not yet be too late to set it aside. -It may be possible to force him to return your daughter to you, at all -events until she is of age. I don’t know the law accurately on this -point, but I can go to town at once and inquire, and if there is a -chance--if she could be returned to you--’ - -Mr Hindes’ urbanity seemed to have forsaken him at this juncture, for -he trembled so violently that his very teeth chattered. - -‘And do you suppose that I would take her back?’ cried Mr Crampton, -vehemently. ‘What! take the casket without the jewel! Receive my -daughter--no longer only my daughter, but that man’s plaything--in -her dishonoured home? Never! I will see her dead first! I will stand -by thankfully, and watch her coffin lowered into the ground, sooner -than acknowledge her again as my child. I have no child now. My Jenny, -in whom I took such pride, for whom I have made money and treasured -and garnered it up, is gone from me. She is no longer mine. She is -Walcheren’s wife. I have lost her more effectually than if she had been -taken from me by death, as her brothers and sisters were, and never, so -help me God! will I see her of my own free will, in this world again.’ - -He was fuming and raging in his despair, and Hannah Hindes motioned -to her husband, to do or say something to calm the old man. But Henry -Hindes remained as silent and motionless, as if he had been carved in -stone. Then she attempted the task herself. - -‘Dear Mr Crampton,’ she whispered, laying her gentle hand on -his knotted one, ‘surely you are going too far. This terrible -disappointment has come upon you too suddenly, but try to look at it in -a more reasonable light. Jenny has done very, very wrong; no one could -think otherwise, but you must not speak of her as if she were abandoned -to sin. She is honourably married, remember; and she is so young, that -perhaps she did not view the fault of rebelling against your authority -from so serious a point of view as we do. Mr Walcheren doubtless -persuaded her that it was only a venial error, which you would soon -forgive, for I cannot believe that she could ever forget your great -love for her, nor hers for you.’ - -She smoothed the old man’s palm with a motherly touch as she spoke, and -her soft voice and manner served in a measure to soothe his extreme -agitation. - -‘You are a good woman, Mrs Hindes, my dear,’ he replied, more calmly, -‘but my daughter must abide by the step she has taken, however this -fellow cajoled her into it. She knew well enough that I would never -give my consent to her marriage with a d--d Papist. She gave me her -solemn promise, too, to give up all communication with him. She lied to -me, Mrs Hindes, as the man lied to your husband, and I renounce them -both--I renounce them both! Henceforth, I have no child. Heaven took -five from me, and the devil’s got the last.’ - -And with that Mr Crampton drew forth a red silk handkerchief and buried -his face in it. - -‘But what is to be done?’ inquired Henry Hindes, ‘what is to be done?’ - -Hannah glanced round at him in astonishment. His full, deep voice -seemed all of a sudden to have become thin and squeaky. - -‘Mr Crampton seems to think that we can do nothing, dearest,’ she -answered. - -‘But some sort of reply must be sent to her letter,’ he continued, -‘or she may present herself at any moment in Hampstead. She is very -impetuous, you know, Crampton, and will not easily believe that you can -be seriously angry with her. We must prevent a scandal if possible. -You had better write to her, or see her once, just to come to an -understanding, that you may know what to expect, and she also.’ - -‘I will never see her, nor write to her again,’ said Mr Crampton. - -‘Henry, could _you_ not do so?’ asked his wife, pleadingly. ‘If Mr -Crampton consents to it, could you not first verify the marriage, and -then see poor Jenny, and tell her her father’s decision? Someone ought -surely to do it.’ - -‘Where does she write from?’ asked Mr Hindes. - -‘From the Castle Warden Hotel at Dover, whence they will probably cross -over to Paris. If you follow them it should be at once. Will you go? -Shall I get your portmanteau ready?’ - -She loved the girl, and cherished a secret hope that, through her -husband’s intervention, a reconciliation might be effected between the -daughter and her parents. - -‘I am at Mr Crampton’s service,’ said Mr Hindes. - -‘What do you expect to issue from the proceeding?’ asked the old man, -in a muffled voice. ‘I will never receive her back at “The Cedars.” -It is of no use giving her any false hopes, for my decision is -irrevocable. She is dead to me from this time forward.’ - -‘Will her mother consent to that, sir?’ - -‘If she does not she must join her daughter, for I will have no one who -associates with Papists in my house. I would as soon cherish a brood -of vipers. But I do not anticipate my wife being so ungrateful as to -desert me in this extremity.’ - -‘But if Jenny--if your daughter, on hearing your decision, and learning -that it is unalterable, should elect to give up her husband and return -to the protection of her parents--what then, sir?’ - -‘There is no chance of it,’ said the old man. - -‘I am not so sure of that. Our childhood’s affections are generally the -strongest. She may be repenting the step she has taken even now. If I -see her and find she wishes to come home again--what then?’ - -‘I do not say that, in such a case, I should absolutely refuse to -receive her, but it would be only on the very strictest conditions. -And you would let me know first? You would not bring me face to face -with her without any preparation, for, by the Lord, Hindes, I would not -trust myself to say what I might do in such a case.’ - -‘No,’ replied Hindes, ‘I promise you I will not act in any way without -your consent. But I will go down to Dover, and see if it is possible to -have an interview with her alone. If Mr Walcheren is present I have no -hopes of success.’ - -‘Don’t mention the fellow’s name!’ exclaimed Mr Crampton. ‘The very -sound of it makes me feel like a murderer. I can conceive at this -moment nothing that would give me greater pleasure than to squeeze the -last breath out of his vile body.’ - -He rose to leave then, tottering as if the fatal intelligence had added -twenty years to his existence. - -‘Don’t walk home. Let me order the carriage. It won’t be ten minutes, -and then it can take Henry to the station,’ said Hannah, kindly. - -‘Thank you, my dear,’ replied Mr Crampton, reseating himself. ‘I do not -really think I am equal to the exertion. To think that a rebellious -girl has the power to sap a man’s strength in this manner.’ - -‘The news has been a shock to all of us,’ returned Hannah. ‘My husband -looks almost as bad as you do. Henry, you must take something before -you start. Ring the bell and tell Simmonds to bring some brandy and -soda. Your face is positively ghastly. What shall I put up for you? -Shall you stay the night?’ - -‘No, I think not; but, perhaps, I may. Just a shirt and a brush and -comb, please, nothing more. I am so grieved for the Cramptons,’ said -her husband to her, in a lower tone, ‘so deeply, deeply grieved. This -will break their hearts. I shouldn’t wonder if it were the death of -both of them.’ - -‘Yes, yes; poor, dear, old people, they loved her so,’ rejoined Hannah, -with the tears in her eyes, ‘and we shall feel it terribly, too, Henry, -when we have time to realise that it is true.’ - -‘Oh! that’s all nonsense,’ said her husband, roughly. ‘It is of them we -have to think. What can it matter to us? Sooner or later she must have -married someone, and _we_ have no especial antipathy to Papists. But -there is no time to discuss the matter now. Do as I tell you, and let -me be off.’ - -And in another five minutes the two partners in the firm of Hindes & -Crampton were driving down the elm-tree road together. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - - -Honeymoons are not always the blissful periods anticipated by those who -enter on them, but Frederick’s and Jenny’s promised to be an exception -to the rule. The girl was so lively and merry, so easily pleased with -all that surrounded her, and disposed to make so light of any little -_désagremens_, that she formed a delightful companion. And then, she -was so desperately in love with her husband, and he with her, that -they both thought, and perhaps rightly, that they had never known what -happiness was till then. Frederick especially, who had frittered away -his time and his affections on more girls than he could remember the -names of, could not understand how he could have been such a fool as -to waste his life in so frivolous a manner, when so much pleasure had -been within his grasp. The day after his marriage, when he was ready to -consider himself quite a Benedict of experience, he decided that there -was but one source of happiness, worth calling by the name, in this -world, and that was the whole and undivided love of a wife, whose heart -you felt to be entirely your own. - -It was a lovely day, and the two young people were sitting in a room -that looked upon the sea, watching the bright waves that were dashing -up against the harbour bar, and filling the air with their sweet, salt -flavour. Jenny, looking the very quintessence of youth and beauty, -attired in a flowing gown of white muslin and lace, with a knot of blue -ribbon in her sunny hair, was seated on her husband’s knee, playing -with his dark locks, and ever and anon pressing her ripe lips upon his -forehead. - -‘My darling, my darling!’ he said, in a fervour of admiration, ‘how -happy we are! Did you ever think we should be so exquisitely happy, -Jenny?’ - -‘No, Fred, I have never dreamed there could be such bliss in my life -before. It is like heaven to be here, all alone with you, and to feel -that we shall never, never part again, that we are all in all to one -another, and that no one can ever come between us, or separate us. I -have only one little regret, Fred, darling, and that is a very little -one.’ - -‘What is it, sweetheart?’ - -‘That father and mother are angry with me! If they had been kind about -you, I should be the very happiest girl alive. I think _I am_ that, -now, but if everything were right with the old people, I should be the -happiest in heaven or earth.’ - -‘My dear little wife, I don’t think you need trouble your sweet self -about that, they are sure to come round before long. Why you know they -couldn’t live without you. Naturally they are angry at present. We -have been very naughty, but we mean to be ever so good for the future, -so that they shall be quite proud of us. By the way, Jenny, did you -write that letter to your father?’ - -‘Certainly, and posted it yesterday. Oh! what a time it seems since we -were married. I can hardly believe it is only a day. It seems like a -year.’ - -‘That’s very complimentary to me, my darling; but you might have had an -answer to your letter by telegram this morning.’ - -‘So I might, but I daresay dear old papa is awfully enraged with me, -and is keeping me in suspense on purpose; but mamma is sure to write in -a day or two; I shall be glad to hear from them, Fred. I’d rather know -the worst at once.’ - -‘Why, what do you suppose the worst will be, you little silly? Who can -do you any real harm, now that you have me to protect you? Who could -wound you through the circle of my arms,’ exclaimed Frederick, as he -cast them around her. ‘I defy the world to take my angel from my -clasp; and so long as she has me and I have her, we shall be happy!’ - -The girl was silent for a few moments, whilst her husband was devouring -her with kisses, but when he released her, she said thoughtfully,-- - -‘Do you know who I doubt, Fred, though he has been our friend for -years, and papa thinks there is no one like him--Mr Hindes! He has -always been awfully good to me, and his wife is one of my dearest -friends, but still, somehow, he always seems to come between me and -anything I like. He is always advising papa about me, as if I belonged -to him as well. He made him exchange my dog-cart for a Ralli, because -he declared it was too dangerous for me to drive about in, and he -makes mamma take me home from parties before twelve o’clock, for fear -I should be overtired. I suppose he means it kindly, but I think it -is very officious of him, and I have told him so. And now, I fancy, -he will be advising my parents not to give in and forgive me too -soon--perhaps tell them not to forgive me at all,’ added Jenny, with -drooping head. - -‘Officious, indeed! I should call it d--d impertinence on his part,’ -acquiesced her husband, ‘and he wouldn’t try that game on twice with -me! To tell you the truth, little woman, I don’t like your Mr Hindes -any more than you do; he interfered in my affairs sufficiently by -informing me I was to make myself scarce, but I expect by this time -that he has found out his mistake. There is certainly something curious -about the fellow. One cannot find fault with his manner, which is most -courteous, and he seems well-informed into the bargain, and yet he has -a knack of saying the most unpleasant things in a pleasant way that I -ever came across. However, he will never worry you again, my Jenny, nor -cross your path, if you don’t wish him to do so.’ - -‘Oh! I have no wish to cut him, only I fancy he will influence papa -to hold out against us as long as possible. For the funny part about -him is, that although he has always been so kind to me, personally, -whenever he advises papa on my account, it is always something to give -me annoyance instead of pleasure. I really quite hated him at one time, -for so constantly opposing my wishes. I was always doing something -unladylike, or dangerous, or foolish, according to Mr Hindes’ account.’ - -‘Well, that’s over, at all events,’ replied Frederick, ‘neither Mr -Hindes, nor Mr Anybody else, shall ever interfere with my wife’s -pursuits. If I think she is endangering her precious safety, I shall -kiss her till she promises me to leave it off and be a good girl, but -nothing else shall come between us.’ - -‘I shall go on being bad, so that you may go on kissing me,’ said -Jenny, as she nestled closer to him. - -‘But what are we going to decide about to-morrow, little wife?’ asked -the young man, after an eloquent pause. ‘Is it to be Paris or not?’ - -‘Do the boats run to-morrow?’ asked Jenny, dubiously. - -‘I fancy so, but that is soon ascertained. They are sure to know -all about it in the hotel. The question is, do you prefer to cross -to-morrow or Monday?’ - -‘We are very happy here,’ said the girl, thoughtfully. - -‘Happy! my sweet! happy is not the word for it. We are in Paradise, at -least I know I am. But what made you make that remark?’ - -‘Because, if it is all the same to you, Fred, I would rather stay here -till Monday; then, if my father writes to me, or wishes to see me, I -shall have time to receive his letter or to receive him before we leave -England.’ - -‘Very well, dear, have your own way in everything. You will never find -me oppose your wishes. I am not so sanguine as you are about the old -people coming round so quickly--I fancy your dear papa has a will of -his own--still, it will be as well, perhaps, to stay a day or two in -England, to give them a chance of behaving like Christians. But what do -you feel like now doing now, eh?’ - -‘Kissing you,’ replied Jenny, suiting the action to the word. - -‘But we’ve been at that game for twenty-four mortal hours, my darling,’ -he cried, laughing, ‘and before long there will be nothing of us left. -Will you come for a walk?’ - -‘Dearest, I’m too tired.’ - -‘Well, if your ladyship will give me a little leave of absence, I will -go for a swim. It is just the day for it. I sha’n’t be long. Back for -luncheon, at all events.’ - -‘Oh! love, be careful,’ exclaimed Jenny, with startled eyes; ‘don’t do -anything rash. Think how precious you are to me!’ - -‘You dear goose,’ replied her husband, ‘why, swimming is one of the -things I do best. However, I will be careful, I promise you, now, and -always, that I have such a dear wife to care if I live or die.’ - -‘I suppose you will not want luncheon till three,’ said Jenny, for the -remains of breakfast were still on the table. - -‘No, three will do nicely, and then we will have a carriage and go for -a jolly drive over the cliffs.’ - -‘I wish I had my dear cobs here, and could drive you myself,’ said -Jenny, with a slight sigh. ‘I wonder if father will let me have my -cobs. They are my very own, for he gave them to me on my birthday.’ - -‘If he doesn’t, your husband will give you a pair that you will like -just as well.’ - -He came back as he spoke and embraced her fondly. - -‘Don’t regret anything you may have left behind you, my sweet,’ he -murmured, ‘remember, you cannot have them and me as well.’ - -‘I regret nothing and nobody,’ she answered, clinging to him, ‘you are -my world, dearest. In having you I have everything.’ - -The young man’s face glowed with delight, as he tore himself away from -his enchantress, and left the hotel to have his swim. - -For a little time after he had quitted her, Jenny tried to interest -herself with the newspapers and magazines which they had purchased -the day before. But she was naturally restless, and could not chain -her thoughts to anything. She read one or two short stories without -knowing what they were about, for her mind would keep wandering back -to Hampstead and all that was happening there. Every time a footfall -sounded near her room, she fancied it was the waiter bringing a -telegram from her father, or a message, perhaps, that he waited below -to speak to her. At last her nervous dread, lest he should arrive and -interview her without the protection of her husband, grew to such a -height that she felt as if she could not remain in the hotel without -Frederick, and put on her walking attire with the idea of going to -the beach and waiting for him there. But Dover was a strange place to -Jenny, and she had no idea which direction Frederick might have taken, -nor where the gentlemen bathed, nor if it would be proper for her to -go there if she did. Besides, did she not remember her husband saying -something about bathing from a boat, in which case he might be miles -away from the land. The green downs stretched out invitingly before -her; looking so much cooler and less glaring than the sandy beach -sprinkled over with nursemaids and children, so she turned her steps -in that direction. She carried a magazine in her hand, and she would -go and sit on the cliffs she thought, till three o’clock had struck -and Frederick had returned home again. A little chill feeling ran over -Jenny, as she took her seat on the sward close to the edge of the -cliffs whence she could see and hear the sparkling waves as they dashed -over the shingly beach, and she moved further inland with a shudder. - -‘What an awful thing it would be,’ she inwardly said, ‘if I were to -fall over those cliffs now--_now_, in the very hey-day of my youth and -happiness. To leave my Frederick just as I know what it is to love him; -just as I have taken the bold step to unite myself with him forever! -Yet others have done it; others, I suppose, with hopes as high as mine, -and with feelings as strong. Oh, it must have been terrible! terrible! -The very idea makes my flesh creep! I must be over-excited and nervous -to-day to think of such a silly thing!’ and she drew herself further -and further away from the edge of the cliff and tried to interest -herself in her book. - -It was about this time that Henry Hindes, pale and anxious as to the -issue of his errand, walked into the vestibule of the Castle Warden -Hotel and asked if Mrs Walcheren were at home. The porter having -referred to half-a-dozen waiters in turn, at first said ‘yes,’ but on -Mr Hindes sending up his name for admittance, the man returned to say -he had been mistaken, and neither Mr nor Mrs Walcheren were indoors. - -‘Is it only an excuse, or is the lady really not in?’ demanded Mr -Hindes. - -‘She is really not at home, sir,’ was the reply, ‘but I did not see her -go out; I suppose she went through the garden. Mr Walcheren went out -better than an hour ago, for I saw him pass through the hall myself.’ - -‘Do you know when they are likely to be in?’ next asked the visitor. - -‘I can’t say for certain, sir, but their lunch is ordered for three -o’clock.’ - -‘Very well; I will return at three.’ - -‘What name shall I say, sir?’ - -‘You need say no name. I will send it up on my return,’ said Henry -Hindes as he walked away. - -He was disappointed that he had not found Jenny at home and alone, yet -it was hardly natural that a young husband and wife should separate -on the very morning after their wedding-day. But we are all apt to be -unreasonable when our wishes are thwarted. However, he made up his -mind to call again at three o’clock. Whether alone or together, he -could not return to Hampstead without seeing Jenny, and delivering to -her the message with which her father had entrusted him. So he must -wile away the intervening hours as best he could. He stopped at the -bar to have a brandy-and-soda, not the first by several, that he had -taken that morning to build up his courage for the coming interview, -and sustain him under the shock which the news of her marriage had been -to him. And then he wandered forth into the town and took his way idly -up the very path to the cliffs that Jenny had trodden before him. He -had not walked, slowly and clumsily, for more than half an hour when -he came upon her, seated on the close-cropped herbage, with her eyes -fixed thoughtfully upon the water, and her book lying unheeded in her -lap. Henry Hindes’ heart gave a great leap and throb as he recognised -the lovely features, shaded by a broad chip hat, trimmed with field -flowers, and the graceful figure of the beauty of Hampstead. Here was -an opportunity, for which he had never hoped--to find her thus alone -and unoccupied, amidst the glories of Nature, with her attention free -to listen to his pleadings on her parents’ behalf. His involuntary -exclamation as he encountered her, caused Jenny to look round, and the -hot blush of shame that flooded her face at seeing him proved that she -was not dead to the knowledge that she had done something to blush for. - -‘Mr Hindes!’ she said, with a little gasp as if of fear, ‘what has -induced you to follow me?’ - -‘Nothing but the heartiest interest in your welfare, Jenny, you may -be sure of that! Did you think that we could hear the news of your -marriage at Hampstead without emotion? It paralysed us, Jenny! We could -not believe it without further proof--without your assurance that it -was undertaken of your own free will.’ - -‘My father is the proper person to put such questions to me,’ replied -Jenny, proudly. ‘If he wished them answered, why did he not come to -Dover himself, instead of sending you?’ - -‘Your father could not come if he wished it. Your letter has made him -so ill that he is not fit to leave home. I dread what the effects -of the shock may be on him. Remember, he is no longer a young man, -sixty-two on his last birthday, and you have robbed him of all he had -in life.’ - -‘I don’t see that,’ replied Jenny, with her old pertness, ‘I must have -married some day; I don’t suppose my father meant to keep me single all -my life, and in such a matter, people are generally left to choose for -themselves.’ - -‘Not when their choice is in direct opposition to their parents’ -wishes! However, you have elected to fly in their faces, and what’s -done can’t be undone. I visited the Earl’s Court Registrar’s Office -this morning, and found the ill news was, indeed, too true. It, -therefore, now only remains to be seen what remedy there is for so sad -a state of affairs, and if you are prepared to hear the proposal your -father has sent you by me.’ - -He had made as though he were about to throw himself on the grass -beside her, and, in order to avoid his doing so, Jenny rose and moved a -few paces forward. Henry Hindes had, therefore, no alternative but to -walk slowly by her side, and as she had turned her face from the town, -each step took them further from it. - -‘If you have anything unpleasant to tell me,’ she said, with a slight -laugh, ‘for goodness’ sake don’t make it public property. Let us go -further up the cliffs, where our voices will not reach any loiterers on -the beach below.’ - -‘You can hardly expect my message to be a very pleasant one, Jenny,’ -commenced Henry Hindes, as composedly as he knew how, ‘but it is -soon told. Mr Crampton refuses either to write to or see you, unless -you agree to his conditions. When he received your terrible news -this morning, I was afraid he would have a fit, it affected him so -dreadfully. As for your poor mother and aunt, they are, I hear, in -utter despair. You have changed a happy home, Jenny, into a house of -mourning.’ - -‘Well, they should have been more considerate of my feelings,’ said the -girl, in a low voice, but Mr Hindes could detect signs of softening in -it. - -‘They were considerate of them, they intended to be considerate of -them,’ exclaimed Henry Hindes, ‘they only told you the truth when they -said that Walcheren was not a fit man for you to marry, that he was a -gambler and an evil liver--that--’ - -‘Mr Hindes, you forget yourself,’ cried the girl with newly acquired -dignity, ‘when you said those things the other day, you were speaking -of an acquaintance, to-day you are maligning _my husband_!’ - -‘I cannot help it! Were he twenty times your husband, I must say what -is in my mind concerning him. You have had your own way too long, -Jenny, and now you have taken it to your ruin. But your father is -willing to receive you back as his daughter, on one condition, and that -is, that you leave this man who has led you into so grievous an error, -and return to the protection of your parents.’ - -Jenny gazed at him as if he had been a lunatic. - -‘Do I hear you rightly,’ she said, ‘or are you mad? Leave my husband, -whom I have just married, leave the man whom I love above all the -world, father and mother included, leave him all alone and go back to -Hampstead to live a widowed life with my people! Why, papa must have -been tipsy to propose such a thing. What had you been giving the old -gentleman to make him talk such nonsense? Surely you are dreaming and -have fancied it all.’ - -‘Dreaming!’ echoed Hindes, indignantly; ‘is it dreaming to see your -father’s agony, to hear of your mother’s tears? No, these things may be -play to you, Jenny, but they are death to them. I have repeated your -father’s words just as he told them to me. “I will never see her, nor -speak, nor write to her so long as life lasts,” he said, “and I will -never, under any circumstances, receive that man into my house; but, -if Jenny will give him up and come back to our protection, I will try -and forgive the past.” Jenny! think of what you are resigning before -you finally decide. Mr Crampton is much richer than you imagine. You -will inherit nothing short of fifteen to twenty thousand a year at his -death. And you were married illegally. Mr Walcheren took a false oath -about your age, and this may be set aside if you will only give your -consent to it. Why, Jenny, you have not been half clever enough! With -your beauty and prospective wealth, you should have married into the -aristocracy. Think twice about it. Give up this man who is not worthy -of you, and you will make twice as brilliant a marriage by-and-by.’ - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - - -The girl turned round upon him like a fury. - -‘How dare you,’ she cried, ‘make such an infamous proposal to me? I -don’t believe papa ever told you to say so. I don’t believe he would -have thought of such a thing if you had not put it into his head. You -are not telling me the truth, Mr Hindes. What spite have you against -me, that you are always trying to put a spoke in my wheel in this way. -You never propose anything for my pleasure, it is always something for -my pain. I believe you have taken a hatred to me, you go against me so -persistently.’ - -‘_I_--I hate you, Jenny!’ stammered Hindes. - -‘Yes, I feel sure you do, else why should you be forever urging papa -to do something to displease me. I have seen it for years past. Every -obstacle that has been thrown in my way has been by your advice. What -am I to you? Why can’t you let me and my affairs alone?’ - -‘Why can’t I let you alone? Why am I for ever interesting myself in -your affairs?’ he repeated after her. ‘Cannot you guess, Jenny; has no -glimmer of the truth reached your heart during all these years? Well, -then, I will tell you; it is because I love you.’ - -‘A nice way of loving,’ interposed the girl sarcastically. - -‘Yes! you may laugh, but it will not unmake the fact. I love you, -Jenny, as no one of your admirers has ever loved you yet, love you -with the fire and fervour of a disappointed man, of one who knows, and -has known for years past, that his love is of no avail, that it lives -without hope, but still lives, burning on--loving on--because it can -never die even if it would, because it would not die even if it could. -Oh! my darling! I have loved you for years. Just give me one look of -pity at last.’ - -But Jenny recoiled from him with a shudder of disgust. - -‘How dare you! how _dare_ you!’ she panted; ‘and you pretend to be my -friend, you, a married man. Oh! you have made me feel that I have sunk -low indeed.’ - -Her look of horror and her tone of contempt stung Hindes more than a -dozen lashes from her hand would have done. - -‘Married!’ he exclaimed; ‘what has that to do with a man’s feelings? Am -I blind, deaf, insensible, because I am married. And what about your -fine scoundrel over there? You imagine he loves you. Yet, what is he? -A married man, and worse than a married man, a thousand times over, -for he has left a poor girl who is, to all intents and purposes, his -wife, and a child who has the right to call him father, to break their -hearts, and perhaps to starve down at Luton, whilst he is philandering -after you. Ah! that has touched you, has it?’ he continued almost -savagely, as he saw Jenny’s cheeks flush. ‘Well! it is the solemn -truth, as I can prove to you. And she is not the only one either. Ask -Philip Walcheren! You are one of many, Jenny, though you may wear the -wedding-ring upon your finger.’ - -‘You lie!’ cried the girl vehemently; ‘I am sure you lie, and I will -tell my husband every word you say, and he shall punish you for them. -You want to frighten me, that is all--you are jealous of my great -happiness. I have always suspected you were double-faced, and now I -know it. And I hate you--I hate you. And I love my husband as much as I -hate you, and nothing shall ever separate us, try as hard as you may. -We will be together and together and together, until death.’ - -She turned, in all her beauty with a mocking smile upon her lovely -face, towards him as she spoke, and stepped backwards towards the edge -of the cliff. Henry Hindes’ first impulse was to catch her by the -wrist to prevent her falling over. But she wrenched it from his grasp. - -‘Don’t dare to touch me, you brute!’ she cried excitedly. ‘You want to -push me over the cliff now, I suppose!’ - -God! why did she say the word? Why did she put the idea into his -excited brain? It had never entered his head before. He had never -thought of her but in kindness. For years past, he had secretly -cherished her image, suffering himself to indulge in beatific -day-dreams of what his life might have been had Jenny been destined -to spend it by his side--had permitted himself to enjoy her presence, -to bask in her beauty, to be miserable when the thought crossed his -mind that some day he would be assuredly called upon to relinquish her -to another man, but never had he done less than love her. But now, as -he held her in his power, and she laughed derisively into his face, -whilst those words, ‘I hate you,’ still rung on the air, something -entered into Henry Hindes that had never been there before. A wild fury -that she should spurn him, her friend of years, and love Frederick -Walcheren--a mad despair that he would never possess her beauty, and -that another had the legal right to gloat over it night and day for -all time--whilst he stood apart, baffled and disappointed, and then a -desperate resolve to save her from further contamination and himself -from a life-longing, and the devil, which is in all of us, glared out -of his eyes, as with a single effort, hardly calculating what the -effects would be, acting more on the impulse of what he _would do_, -than of what he _was doing_, he pushed the girl violently from him and -sent her light body hurling over the stupendous abyss which separated -them from the beach below. - -It was done in a second, beyond power of recall. This moment Jenny was -standing before him in her mocking loveliness--and the next there was -only a void, and not even the impress of her footprints on the short -herbage where she had stood. - -Henry Hindes remained motionless for the space of half a minute, then -sunk down into a sitting position, and trembled as if he were taken -with an ague. He did not look over the cliff to see what had become -of his victim. He knew but too well! He had glanced over it before -he met her, and saw that it consisted of an unbroken line of chalk -cliffs, leading precipitately to the shingly shore. He knew what he -should see if he looked over, and he dared not look! He only sat there -and shook like an aspen leaf. The clammy perspiration rose upon his -face, and stood in great beads upon his brow, but he did not raise -his hand to wipe it away. He only remained dumb and motionless and -trembled. By-and-by some instinct warned him that he ought to move, -to go back to the town, and that it would not do for him to be found -sitting so close by. Upon this he tried to stand, but found he could -not, so turned round and crawled away, for some distance, on his hands -and knees. A fresh breeze had sprung up from the sea, and it revived -him sufficiently to enable him to stand upon his feet, and to commence -with a tottering step to find his way back again. As he did so, he -hardly believed that what had happened was real. He must have drunk -more than was good for him, he thought, and it was a bad dream that had -overtaken him. But a backward glance made the horrid truth too plain. -There was the barren cliff, deserted for the time being, whilst all -the world of Dover was occupied on the beach, with bathing or flirting -or play. There was the very spot where they had stood together on the -close grass, besprinkled with pink thrift and stunted daisies--the same -irregular edge where she had mocked him, whence he would have saved her -if she had let him, but where-- - -‘I must pull myself together!’ thought Henry Hindes, with a violent -shudder; ‘this is not the time or place for me to think about it! It -was an awful accident, but nothing more--I would not have injured her -for all the world, but it is an awkward time for it to have occurred, -and in my presence, too--and I must take measures not to have my name -implicated in the affair!’ - -He looked around with dimmed eyes as he argued with himself, but, -far or near, he could perceive no one and no thing, except a few -sheep grazing on the stunted herbage. Then he ventured near the -cliff--not with his eyes towards that point where she had fallen, but -turned the other way, and he saw it was quite deserted, the bathing -population being at the further end of the town. Not a soul was -on the beach, only a few boats were drawn up high and dry, whilst -several more were dancing on the blue waters, laden with fishing nets -or pleasure-seekers. The complete seclusion of the place imparted a -temporary confidence to him. - -‘For the children’s sake,’ he muttered to himself, as he took his way -downwards; ‘for Walter’s sake, and the others and Hannah, I must be -brave and calm and not betray myself. Let me see! what time is it? -Three o’clock! and I said I would return to the hotel about three. -Well! I mustn’t hurry, it will look bad! I will go into a restaurant -first and have my dinner!’ - -The thought of eating sickened him, but he persevered, and, entering -the principal restaurant in the town, ordered an expensive meal. But -when it was served he could not eat it. The food would have choked -him. Something seemed to have closed in his throat and prevented his -swallowing. - -Presently an idea struck him. Calling the waiter, he said,-- - -‘I have some business to talk over with a friend in this town, and, -as my time is short, I think it will facilitate matters if we dine -together. Lay another plate and tell them to keep the dinner back till -I return. I am going round to the hotel to fetch my friend. Keep the -champagne in ice. I shall not be absent more than a few minutes.’ - -He left the restaurant as he spoke, and re-entered the vestibule of -the Castle Warden Hotel. - -‘Has Mrs Walcheren returned yet?’ he inquired, in an unconcerned voice. - -‘No, sir; she has not. Mr Walcheren, he came home about half an hour -ago, but he went out again. I really can’t say when they’ll be back, -sir!’ - -Hindes took out his card and wrote on it in a very shaky hand:-- - - ‘I have called twice to-day to see you, with a message from home, and - hoped to have persuaded you to lunch with me at the Tivoli Restaurant; - but my time is up, and I must return to town. Will write in a day or - two. - - H. H.’ - -‘Give this to Mrs Walcheren on her return, please,’ he said to the -waiter, and took his way, as best he could, back to the Tivoli. - -There he forced himself to eat a little and drink a good deal, and, -calling for the bill, gave the waiter a liberal tip, and departed in a -cab to the station. - -He had done all he could. He should tell the Cramptons, he had called -twice to interview Mrs Walcheren and been unsuccessful each time, and -he had waited about Dover till four o’clock. It was Saturday, and he -could not spend Sunday away from his wife and children. They would -surely say that he had done all that was necessary, and more than -they had required from him. He had tried to see her twice, and he had -failed; they must wait now until Jenny wrote to them herself. - -‘_Until Jenny wrote to them herself!_’ As the thought crossed his mind, -Henry Hindes sunk back into the corner of the railway carriage, in the -same comatose state in which he had been on the downs. The train flew -screeching through the evening air, on its way to London, but time and -place were alike unheeded by him. - -Had it been a dream--an unholy, lurid nightmare--or was it reality? - -When he reached ‘The Old Hall,’ it was nine o’clock. He told his wife -he had stayed to dine in town, but, in truth, he had been wandering -about the streets, hardly conscious of what he was doing, until the -time warned him that each hour he delayed would make it more difficult -to account for his prolonged absence. So he dragged himself home, and -the effort he made to look like a man who was rather disgusted for -having been foolish enough to take a lot of trouble for nothing, sat -upon him much as a clown’s paint would sit upon a corpse. Hannah was -naturally all sympathy for his disappointment and failure, and Hindes -was compelled to take refuge in gruffness, to elude her searching -inquiries. - -‘My dearest, how ill you look, and how tired you seem. This has been a -trying day for you, I am sure. So fond as you are of dear Jenny, too. -And did you really not see her?’ - -‘I have told you already half-a-dozen times, Hannah, that I called -twice at the Castle Warden Hotel to see her, but she was out each time, -so was he, so there was nothing to be done but to return home. I did -not relish the idea of wasting a Sunday in hanging about Dover, perhaps -with the same result, when I might be at home with you and the chicks.’ - -‘Dear Henry,’ said his wife, ‘you are always so considerate of us. -Still, for Jenny’s sake--if it were to lead to a reconciliation between -her and her parents, I would give you up for even a longer time than -that. You might have written her a letter, Henry, though.’ - -‘I _did_ write, just a scribble on my card, to say I had hoped to get -her to lunch with me at the Tivoli Restaurant, when we could have -talked the unhappy matter over together; indeed, I had ordered lunch -for two, but she was not in and they couldn’t say when she would be in, -so I was obliged reluctantly to come back without seeing her. But I -don’t suppose it would have been of any use. What girl would give up -her lover the day after her wedding? It was a mad scheme, and quixotic -in me to set out on such an errand.’ - -‘No; don’t say that dear, for I am sure the old people will be glad -hereafter, to think that you did all you could to bring them together.’ - -Henry Hindes started. - -‘“Hereafter?”’ he echoed; ‘what do you mean by “hereafter?”’ - -‘Nothing, my dearest, only you surely do not think the Cramptons will -hold out for ever, do you? And, when they are reconciled to Jenny and -we are all happy again, I am sure they will be pleased to remember (and -so will she), that _you_ were the first to try and bring them together.’ - -‘Oh, yes, yes! I see!’ replied her husband, as he passed his -handkerchief over his brow. - -‘Poor Mrs Crampton and Miss Bostock were over here this afternoon,’ -continued Mrs Hindes. ‘They said they should go mad if they had no one -to talk to about it. I don’t think they are half so angry with Jenny as -her father is. Of course, they say she has been very naughty, and her -papa is quite right not to forgive her in a hurry, but they evidently -think in the long run, he will find he cannot live without her. “It -would be ridiculous,” Mrs Crampton said, “and most wicked if they -cast off their only child, however wrong she might be.” She is afraid -it will be a long time before Mr Crampton forgives Mr Walcheren or -consents to receive him at “The Cedars,” because of his being a Papist, -but as for their darling, she declared if papa did not ask her up next -week, she should go down to Dover to see her herself. I believe there -is a great deal more in the old lady than we have given her credit for, -Henry, and that she will have her own way in this matter, whatever her -husband may say. But you are not feeling well, dear, surely? I never -remember to have seen you look so white before. Are you sure that you -made a good dinner in town? Or will you have a brandy-and-soda? You -must have something, your looks quite frighten me.’ - -Mr Hindes pulled himself together and sat straight up on the sofa. - -‘Don’t be a fool,’ he began, but, seeing the consternation which his -rudeness evoked, he added, ‘don’t worry me, Hannah. This has been a -very fatiguing day, and, I may say, a very distressing one into the -bargain. I cannot look on this matter in the same bright light as you -do. Mrs Crampton may be very brave and determined, but she has her -match in her husband, and I never knew him to go from his word yet. -And the girl inherits her determination from him. I do not believe she -was from home when I called to-day. I believe I was denied on purpose. -They anticipated my errand, naturally, and declined to have a scene, -which there undoubtedly would have been if Mr Walcheren and I had been -brought in contact. I believe the young man to be a regular scoundrel, -and I should have told him so. After which, I suppose, I should never -have spoken to either of them again.’ - -‘Oh, I don’t believe Jenny would really quarrel with you, whatever -you said, Henry. She is too fond of you for that. She is an impetuous -little creature and says a great deal more than she means, but she has -often told me how highly she thinks of your friendship, and how she -felt sure that, whatever happened, _you_ would always stick by her and -help her out of all her scrapes.’ - -‘There, there, hold your tongue, that will do!’ exclaimed her husband, -as he rose and walked slowly towards the door. ‘I want to see my boy -before I sleep to-night,’ and he took his way, closely followed by his -wife, to the nursery. - -The two little girls were very pretty creatures, who combined the best -points in both father and mother, but the boy, by one of these freaks -of Nature which have been mentioned before, was like neither of them, -but rejoiced in a particularly ugly mug of his own invention. He lay -asleep in a magnificent cot which his father had had carved for him on -the occasion of his birth, covered with a finely embroidered quilt; his -black eyes were closed, but his little snub nose, swarthy complexion, -and wide mouth, formed a sorry contrast to the lace and linen which -enveloped them. No prince of the realm could have been more luxuriously -surrounded than was Master Walter Hindes. His sisters were lying in -their beds close by, their fair hair straying over their pillows, but -their father hardly glanced at them as he crossed the room and bent -over the carved cot at the further end. As he gazed at his sleeping -son and heir, all the stolid feelings of despair which had occupied -his mind during the day seemed to fade away and leave a wealth of -passionate love behind them. He stooped down closely and laid his face -against that of the slumbering child. - -‘My son, my son,’ he murmured, but as the words left his lips, though -heard by no one but himself, a vision of Jenny’s face rose before -him--of Jenny’s mocking face, as she stood on the edge of the precipice -and defied him--and, with a sudden impulse, he drew forth his silk -handkerchief and wiped his kiss off his child’s brow. - -‘What is that for, my dear?’ asked Mrs Hindes, with a low laugh. - -‘A fly--a gnat--’ he stammered, ‘it might disturb Wally in his sleep,’ -and he withdrew, at the same moment, from the child’s bed. - -‘Won’t you look at Elsie and Laurie?’ whispered the mother, as she -passed her arm through his, and pulled him gently towards the girls’ -bed. ‘They have been such good maids all day; I took them with me for -a drive to call on old Miss Buckstone this afternoon, and she was -delighted with them; she wants us to let them go and spend a whole day -with her.’ - -‘And not Wally?’ said Henry Hindes, quickly. - -‘Well, she did not ask Master Wally, and she would regret it, I fancy, -if she did. He is rather a handful away from home, dearest, you know, -and too much used to have his own way; we really must not spoil him so -much, or he may come to the same sad end as poor Jenny.’ - -‘What sad end? What do you mean by saying that?’ demanded Henry Hindes, -for the second time that evening. - -‘Why, marry without our consent, to be sure, Henry; what else could I -mean? Though I hope her marriage may have a happy ending after all. I -shall always believe in it and pray for it, until it comes to pass.’ - -‘Yes, yes, pray for it, Hannah,’ replied her husband. ‘I don’t believe -much in prayer myself, but if anybody should ever be heard, it is -you! You have been a good wife to me, my dear, I seem to see it more -plainly to-night than I have ever done before.’ - -‘Ah! that’s because of this trouble about poor Jenny; it has regularly -upset us all. Shall you go over and see the Cramptons to-night, Harry?’ - -‘No, no, I couldn’t. I have had enough bother already,’ replied Hindes, -shrinking from the idea. - -‘Of course, and perhaps they will not expect it; but you must write to -them, for they will be anxiously expecting to hear some news of your -journey.’ - -‘So they will,’ he answered, as if the idea had only just struck him; -‘well, I will not write, I will go,’ and he rose to get his hat and -stick, then suddenly turning to Hannah, he added,--‘it’s a fine night, -will you go with me?’ - -She looked surprised at the request, but answered readily,-- - -‘With pleasure, dear, if you will wait whilst I put on my hat and -mantle.’ - -The brief walk to ‘The Cedars’ was accomplished in silence, but, as -they reached the house, Hindes said to his wife,-- - -‘Don’t repeat anything I told you; leave me to tell my own story, I -want to save them as much pain as possible.’ - -They found the three old people sitting together and looking very -forlorn. Mr Crampton had recovered his temper of the morning, and was -seated in an arm-chair, huddled up behind his newspaper, and professed -to take no interest in the conversation that ensued. The two women flew -at Henry Hindes as soon as he appeared. - -‘Oh, dear Mr Hindes! did you see her? What news do you bring us? Do not -keep us in suspense; we implore you! Is she well? What did she say?’ - -‘My dear friends,’ he answered, with assumed jocularity; ‘one -at a time, if you please, and you must prepare yourselves for a -disappointment. I haven’t seen her at all! I called twice at the hotel -and they were out each time. What else could we expect? I’m afraid I -went down on a wild goose chase. Such a lovely day! Where should a -bride and bridegroom be but out of doors! I am afraid we must have -patience till next week. Then, if Mr Crampton wishes it, I will go down -again and make a second attempt to interview them.’ - -‘Oh, dear, dear; I _am_ disappointed,’ sighed Mrs Crampton; ‘for I feel -sure, if you had seen darling Jenny, that all would have been right!’ - -‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ interposed her husband. ‘How can anything be -right again since she has elected to marry that scoundrel? The jade has -made her own bed, and she may lie on it, and I hope it’ll be a deuced -hard one, too!’ - -‘Don’t say that,’ replied Henry Hindes, quickly; ‘if it should be hard -it is not _you_ that will make it so! I scribbled a line to her on my -card to say I had brought her a message from home, so, if I am not -very much mistaken, you will receive another letter from her before -long.’ - -‘Dear Mr Hindes, how can we ever thank you enough for the trouble you -have taken on our behalf,’ said Mrs Crampton, as she slid her slender -hand in his; ‘you are the truest and best friend we have. God bless -you!’ - -But he could not stand the gentle pressure of her hand, nor the -grateful intonation of her voice. - -‘Don’t speak about it, please!’ he answered, pulling his hand out -of hers almost roughly; ‘I wish--I wish I could have done more, -but--but--Come! Hannah!’ he exclaimed, interrupting himself; ‘we must -go home! It is late, and my two journeys have tired me. Good-night, Mrs -Crampton! Good-night to everybody! we must leave the further discussion -of the matter to another time,’ and, with a hasty nod all round, he -left the room. - -He did appear very tired when they reached their home, very exhausted -and overdone, but his condition did not tend to give him a good night’s -rest. On the contrary, long after Hannah had sunk into the dreamless -sleep which waits on a good conscience joined to a good digestion, her -unhappy husband lay wide awake staring into the darkness, and starting -at every shadow that lurked in the corners of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - - -Amongst Frederick Walcheren’s varied accomplishments, swimming held a -prominent position. From a child he had exercised this most useful of -all practices, until he was as much at home in the water as on land. -And on that fatal Saturday there was every inducement for him to spend -a long time in his favourite occupation. The day was transcendently -beautiful; the sea was sparkling with electricity and warm as a tepid -bath; and the beach was crowded with spectators, eager to watch and -applaud the various feats of natation which he performed. He was in -good temper with himself and the world, poor fellow! and anxious -to give them all the pleasure in his power. So he remained in the -warm, exhilarating water as long as possible, performing all sorts of -extraordinary dives and plunges and strange modes of swimming, whilst -the people on the shore were full of admiration for his skill. At last -he felt he had had about enough of it for the present, and dressed to -return to the hotel. As he descended the steps of his machine, a young -man of ordinary appearance, who was apparently waiting for him, came -forward. - -‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he began, ‘but, from witnessing your feats -of skill in the water, I presume you are a swimming master, and should -like to know your terms for a course of lessons.’ - -Frederick laughed heartily at the idea, but he was not snob enough to -be offended by the young man’s mistake. - -‘Indeed, I wish I were anything half so useful,’ he replied; ‘but I am -only an amateur like yourself. Swimming is not at all difficult; it -only requires pluck and practice. Anyone could attain my proficiency -if he cared to take the trouble.’ - -‘You’ll forgive me for mentioning it, sir?’ said the stranger, who -feared he might have offended him. - -‘With all my heart. There was no harm in asking,’ replied Frederick, as -he heard the town clock strike three, and hastened towards the hotel. -He reached it, almost running, and, going breathlessly upstairs, threw -open the door of their sitting-room. But Jenny was not there. A waiter -was employed putting the last touches to the luncheon-table, which was -evidently only waiting their return to be spread with the noonday meal. - -‘Where is Mrs Walcheren?’ inquired Frederick. - -‘I don’t know, sir,’ replied the stolid waiter, as he continued putting -out cruets and water bottles. - -Frederick ran up to their bedroom, which was on an upper floor, and -finding that also empty, put on his straw hat again and descended to -the vestibule. - -‘Has my wife--Mrs Walcheren, gone out?’ he asked of the porter. - -‘Well, sir, I really can’t say. There’s been a gentleman asking that -question here already, but I couldn’t give him no satisfaction. I -suppose the lady must be out, because we can’t find her nowhere, but -none of us see her pass through the hall, and I’ll take my oath she -hasn’t come in, for I’ve never left my post one minute. Perhaps she -went to the beach to you, sir.’ - -‘Oh, doubtless, but about the gentleman who called to see her, what was -his name?’ - -‘He didn’t leave no name, sir, but said he would call again.’ - -‘What was he like? Short and stout and middle-aged, with rather a red -complexion, eh?’ - -He concluded at once that it must have been Mr Crampton, who had -followed his daughter on the receipt of her letter that morning. - -‘Well, not very red in the face, sir, but stoutish certainly, and not -over tall.’ - -‘I know him,’ replied Frederick, thinking he did. ‘If he comes again -during my absence, ask him to walk upstairs and wait until we return.’ - -‘All right, sir.’ - -Of course it was Mr Crampton, he thought. It could be no one else, and -he must be by Jenny’s side when their encounter took place. If old -Crampton thought that, by right of his paternity, he would bully Jenny, -he was very much mistaken. He would have to answer to her husband -first. He went back to the beach, thinking he should find her amongst -all the nursemaids, children, serenaders and fruit-sellers, and was -prepared to meet her with a little scolding for exposing herself to -the heat of the day and the vulgarities of the Dover sands. But she -was not there. The beach was almost deserted now, for the babies and -their attendants had gone back to their lodgings to early dinner, -and the serenaders were performing in front of the ‘pubs,’ in hopes -of earning a meal. There would have been no difficulty in discerning -Jenny’s distinguished little figure on the long line of sand and -shingle, but it was evident she was not there. Where could the minx -have hidden herself? Frederick was a little inclined to feel cross, -although it _was_ the first day of their married life, because Jenny -had so decidedly said she would rather not go out that morning, and, -if she had not done so, he should not have left her to herself. Could -she have ventured into the town? She had come away so hurriedly, that -she might have found herself in want of some trifling article that she -had forgotten and gone to the shops to procure it. He turned his steps, -therefore, in that direction, but saw her nowhere in the streets. He -even asked one or two pedestrians if they had met a young lady in a -broad-brimmed hat trimmed with poppies and grasses, but they all shook -their heads. Frederick wandered about the streets for some time, and -then resolved to go back to the hotel. After all, Jenny was not a baby. -She had been well used to look after herself, and had a watch to tell -her the proper time to return. It was more than likely she was already -at the Castle Warden. His first inquiry on re-entering was naturally -for her. - -‘No, sir, the lady ain’t been in yet,’ was the disappointing reply, -‘but the gentleman as I spoke of, he came again and left his card.’ - -‘Where is it?’ said Frederick, eagerly, and was handed the one which -Henry Hindes had left behind him. - -‘Did you ask him to wait and see us?’ he inquired. - -‘Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I had gone for my dinner and didn’t -see the gentleman this time, but William tells me he seemed in a great -hurry like, and didn’t ask to wait, but said he had no time to come -again to-day, as he had to catch a train for London.’ - -‘Oh, very well, it is of no consequence,’ replied Frederick Walcheren -rather testily. ‘Tell them not to serve luncheon until Mrs Walcheren -returns. She cannot be many minutes now.’ - -But it was many many minutes before she came back to the hotel. -Frederick went upstairs to their sitting-room, and tried to occupy his -mind with newspapers, and persuade himself that he was not particularly -anxious for his wife’s return. But there is nothing more irritating -than to be kept in suspense, especially for a trifle. He could not help -wondering where Jenny had gone to, and why she had gone, and why the -dickens she hadn’t come back again! If the stranger who had inquired -for her had not left a proof that he was Mr Henry Hindes instead of Mr -Crampton, he should have almost fancied that she had been silly enough -to have been lured away again by her father. But that was folly! Jenny -was his wife; by love and by law. No one could ever take her from him -again unless that quibble about her age would be considered sufficient -to annul the marriage. But the next moment he laughed at the idea. Mr -Crampton would surely never be such a fool as to take advantage of -a loop-hole that would bring disgrace upon his daughter’s name! How -foolish he was to let so absurd an idea worry him! - -But why the deuce didn’t Jenny come back? It was now four o’clock. This -was carrying a joke too far. She couldn’t possibly have lost her way -in such a place as Dover. Besides, she wasn’t the sort of girl to lose -her way! Even if she had broken her leg, or done any unlikely thing of -that sort, she would have had the nous to call assistance, or send him -a message to say what was the matter. The only solution of the mystery -that he could think of, was that she had gone for a walk and wandered -so far away that she was too tired to walk home quicker. But why, in -that case, had she not procured some vehicle to convey her back again. -The more Frederick thought of it, the more puzzled he became. When five -o’clock struck, he went out of doors for the second time, and ran all -over the place, making inquiries of everybody he met. One girl said she -had seen a very pretty young lady at about one o’clock that afternoon, -walking towards the cliffs. She particularly noticed that she wore a -large chip hat with scarlet poppies in it, and a white dress. She had -a book in her hand, and she went up that way, continued his informant, -pointing in the direction of the grassy downs. Frederick thanked her -and commenced running off in the direction she had intimated. Of -course, he said to himself, the cool breezy downs would be far more -likely to attract Jenny than the hot beach. How foolish it was of him -not to have thought of that before! He walked rapidly straight ahead of -him for three or four miles, and then stopped to consider what he was -doing. Jenny was not there! He could see from end to end of the broad -wide expanse, and a sheep would have been visible to the naked eye. -What was the use of his rushing about in that aimless manner, after a -full-grown woman. Jenny was such a spoilt child, the Lord only knew -whether she might not be playing a practical joke on him all this time, -and hiding away for her own pleasure to see how much she could frighten -him. He had been far wiser to eat his luncheon in comfort and let the -young lady see that that sort of trick would not do with him. He was -beginning to feel a little angry and hurt by this time. It was not -good manners, to say the least of it--it showed a lack of good feeling -and good taste to make him look like a fool in the eyes of the hotel -servants, so soon after their wedding-day. He should give up the search -as a bad job, and return to the Castle Warden and rest. Without doubt, -she would come in for her dinner. - -He gained the hotel again, but still no news had been heard of the -missing lady. By this time every menial in the house knew that the -bride (for when can people ever hide the glaring fact that they were -married yesterday?) had played truant, designedly or otherwise, and -many were the conjectures as to her reason for making herself so -conspicuous. Meanwhile, Frederick Walcheren sat in his own apartments, -by turns angry, impatient, anxious and despairing. He hardly took heed -how the time went on. Every moment he expected to hear the sound of -Jenny’s footstep running up the staircase--to hear her merry voice -telling him the reason of her extraordinary absence--to feel her arms -round his neck and her lips pleading for forgiveness. But the hours -went on till seven and eight o’clock had struck, and still she was -not there. As the last hour sounded Frederick heard a low tap on his -door; he was not in the mood to see strangers or talk with them, but -he cried, ‘Come in!’ The door opened, and the landlord of the Castle -Warden entered and closed it securely behind him. - -‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he commenced, ‘but I am told that your lady -has not come home, and that you are rather uneasy about her.’ - -‘Well, I am, naturally,’ replied Frederick, ‘in fact, I don’t know -what the devil to think about her absence. It is most extraordinary! I -went out to bathe this morning, leaving Mrs Walcheren here, and when I -returned she was gone. No one saw her go out, nor can I hear any news -of her, except from a little girl, who says she met her walking in the -direction of the cliffs, about one o’clock this afternoon. I have been -all over the cliffs, and the town, and the beach, but can neither see -nor hear anything more. What should you advise me to do, Mr Cameron? I -am nearly distracted with anxiety.’ - -‘The lady was seen going towards the cliffs,’ said the landlord, -musingly, ‘our cliffs are not very safe for strangers. I hope there -has not been an accident.’ - -At this Frederick leapt from his seat as if he had been shot. - -‘My God! man,’ he cried, ‘what do you mean? You cannot think it -possible that--that--’ - -He tried to finish the sentence, but failed. - -‘Indeed, sir, I meant nothing but that we must look at all possible -contingencies if we are to find the young lady. It is a long time for -her to be away, and, if I mistake not (though I hope you will excuse my -mentioning it), the day after her wedding.’ - -‘Yes, yes; I don’t care who knows it,’ replied Frederick in a voice of -pain. ‘We were only married yesterday, that makes this all the more -mysterious and extraordinary; but how are we to ascertain the truth? -What am I to do?’ - -‘If you will allow me, sir, I will send some of the boatmen who know -the cliffs to search for Mrs Walcheren, and they will soon relieve -your suspense, for if she is there they will find her safe enough.’ - -‘By all means; I ought to have thought of it myself. Thank you, Mr -Cameron; pray send for the boatmen as soon as possible, and I will -accompany them.’ - -Mr Cameron looked dubious. - -‘If you will permit me, sir, to advise you, I should say stay here, in -case of your being wanted, or other news arriving.’ - -But Frederick was not to be persuaded. - -‘Stay here!’ he echoed; ‘what on earth should I do that for? My place -is with the men who are going to find her. She has lost her way, -probably, and is wandering about in the dark. Of course, I shall -accompany them.’ - -But the landlord kept his back firmly against the door, and prevented -the young man passing out. - -‘You will forgive me, sir, but you must not go--not just yet--not till -I have said something. I have been trying to break it to you, Mr -Walcheren, but I am afraid I have done it badly. They _have_ found her, -sir. She was found hours ago, and I came to tell you so.’ - -Frederick Walcheren stared at him, as if he thought he was mad. - -‘_Found!_’ he ejaculated, ‘and hours ago. What do you mean? Why has she -not come home then? Is she injured--hurt? Has any accident happened to -her?’ - -‘Yes, sir, there has indeed, and you must try and bear it like a man. -The lady has been hurt--badly--and she was found on the beach by two -boatmen at five o’clock, or thereabouts.’ - -‘Hurt! my darling. Oh! my God! this is hard,’ exclaimed Frederick, in -a voice of anguish. ‘But where is she? Why have they not brought her -here? Why did they not send for me?’ - -‘Well, sir, they did not know where the lady belonged at first, nor who -she was, so they carried her to the nearest public-house; “The Bottle -and Spurs,” which is half-way down the cliffs to the town.’ - -‘A public-house!’ cried Walcheren, indignantly; ‘how dared they take -a lady there? What was Mrs Walcheren about, to consent to it? Order a -carriage at once, if you please, Mr Cameron, and I will go and fetch -her home.’ - -The landlord fidgeted with the handle of the door. - -‘Well, you see, sir, I am not sure if the authorities will allow of her -removal. It’s the usual thing, under the circumstances, you see, and -sorry as I should be to disoblige you, I’m afraid my customers might -object to her being brought here. “The Bottle and Spurs” is a very -respectable house, sir, and everything will be done, I feel sure, as -can be done, to make things as little unpleasant for you as possible, -but the authorities--’ - -Still the unhappy man did not understand the extent of his calamity. He -sat down again and passed his hand wearily through his hair. - -‘What does it all mean?’ he muttered in a dazed manner. ‘At all -events order the carriage and send for the best doctor in the town to -accompany me.’ - -‘The doctor is here sir,’ replied the landlord, quickly, ‘ready to -speak to you. Dr M‘Coll, one of our most skilful practitioners.’ - -Then he opened the door, and called out, ‘Will you step up, doctor, -please, the gentleman is ready to see you,’ and in another minute -a middle-aged kindly-looking man entered the room and went up to -Walcheren’s side. - -‘Doctor!’ said Frederick faintly, ‘what is all this about? I don’t -understand it. Have you seen my wife? Is she much hurt?’ - -‘She is not suffering now, my dear sir,’ replied the doctor. - -‘Thank God for that. But why did you not bring her home? I have been in -such awful suspense all the afternoon.’ - -‘I am sure you must have been, but now I am going to take you to see -her. Here, Mr Cameron, a glass of brandy for Mr Walcheren. No! no soda -thanks. I want him to take it as it is.’ - -He held the liquor to Frederick’s lips, who drank it at a draught, and -put down the wine-glass with a deep sigh. - -‘You must nerve yourself to hear what I have to tell you,’ said Dr -M‘Coll firmly. ‘I told you your wife no longer suffered, it is because -she has gone beyond the reach of suffering. She had been dead for hours -before the boatmen found her.’ - -The young man sprung from his seat with the one word on his -lips--‘DEAD!’ He stared at his informant for a moment wildly, and then -sinking down on his chair again, threw his arms over his stricken face -and burst into a storm of tears. - -‘Leave him alone,’ whispered the doctor to the landlord; ‘they will -save his brain.’ But the next minute Frederick leapt up, and, seizing -Dr M‘Coll by the arm, exclaimed,-- - -‘Take me to her. Don’t let us lose a moment. Oh, my God! my darling, my -darling!’ - -He tore down the staircase as he spoke, closely followed by the -landlord and the doctor. The waiters and chambermaids, who were hanging -about the passages discussing the awful event that had occurred, made -way respectfully for him as he appeared, and looked after the bereaved -bridegroom with melancholy interest. But Frederick might have passed -through the ranks of a regiment at that moment without perceiving them. -There was but one idea in his brain--to get as quickly as he could to -the side of his beloved. He had heard distinctly what the doctor said, -but he did not realise that Jenny was dead--that she would never speak -to him, nor smile at him, nor kiss him any more. The drive to the -public-house was performed in mournful silence, and when they reached -it they were at once taken through the bar to a back room, where on -a table was placed, just as she had been found, all that was left -of sweet Jenny Walcheren. Her chip hat, so fresh and pretty in the -morning, was still attached to her hair, by a long pin with a butterfly -at the end of it, but it was crushed and forced back upon her head by -the awful fall she had sustained. Her white dress had been decently -composed about her young limbs; she might have almost have deceived -one into the belief that she was sleeping, except for the purple lips -which were drawn off the white teeth, and a dark blue bruise over the -right eye, where her temple had struck the cruel rocks. But Frederick -saw nothing but that he had regained his wife, and falling on her body, -covered it with kisses, imploring her by every fond entreaty he could -frame, to open her eyes once more and look at him, and to unclose her -bruised and livid lips and speak his name. At last his madness calmed -down a little, leaving a dull despair behind it, when he turned to the -doctor and said,-- - -‘Tell me, for mercy’s sake, how did it happen?’ - -‘We are as much in the dark as you are, my dear young friend,’ replied -Dr M‘Coll, ‘all we know is, that two Deal boatmen, Jackson and Barnes -by name, went to the lower beach after their boats, which are drawn up -there, at five this afternoon, and found the poor lady lying under the -cliffs, over which there is no doubt she must have fallen, but how, -there is nothing to tell. They did not know her name, so carried her -here and sent for me. But I could do nothing. She must have been dead -for two or three hours before I saw her. When I was convinced of that, -I set inquiries on foot, to find out who she was, and they soon led me -to the Castle Warden Hotel.’ - -‘It wasn’t easy to mistake her,’ interposed Mr Cameron, whose own eyes -were suspiciously red; ‘the prettiest bride, as everyone says, we have -had in the hotel for the last twelve month.’ - -‘Don’t, don’t,’ said Frederick, in a voice of the keenest pain. -‘Doctor, how shall we take her back? She shall not lie here! I must -take her to the hotel at once.’ - -‘My dear Mr Walcheren, even if that were admissible, it would not be -permitted. The body must not be touched until after the inquest, which, -unfortunately, cannot be held till Monday.’ - -‘She must lie here on this rough table, within sound of those rough -voices, for forty-eight hours? Oh, impossible! I will not allow it!’ - -‘My dear sir, you must allow it! It is the law! This poor young lady -has met her death in a mysterious manner, and, until the police have -evidence that it was an accident, they will not, in the cause of -justice, permit the body to be tampered with.’ - -‘An accident! but how could it be anything but an accident?’ said -Frederick, staring at the doctor. - -‘I have no doubt myself whatever in the matter; but the law must be -satisfied. Meanwhile, let me persuade you, Mr Walcheren, to return to -the hotel and try and calm yourself. You can do no good by remaining -here, and I will engage that every respect shall be paid to her -remains.’ - -‘_I_ go away,’ said Frederick, in a broken voice, ‘and leave her lying -here? Oh, no; you mistake me! It is impossible! If I may not take her -away yet, I shall stay by her till I can! Nothing shall persuade me to -leave her, my darling little wife!’ and he took one of her dead hands -and kissed it fondly as he spoke. - -‘If you are determined--’ began Dr M‘Coll. - -‘I am determined, and nothing will shake my determination. Here I -remain till they take my angel from me. But is an inquest imperative? -I cannot bear to think of it! It is such an indignity--such a public -insult! A body of strangers, men, too, whom I would not have allowed in -her presence whilst living, to be admitted to view her remains. I am -rich, doctor! Can no payment of money avert this outrage?’ - -‘Nothing can avert it, Mr Walcheren; but I will take care it is -conducted as quietly as possible. Remember, it is in the cause of -justice; and now, what can I do for you? Can I wire the sad news to any -of her relatives, or yours? You should have your own friends near you -in this trial.’ - -Frederick turned and seized the doctor’s hands as if he were a child, -clinging to him in his trouble. - -‘Advise me, tell me what to do,’ he said. ‘I am unfit to think for the -best. My head is all in a maze. Doctor, I must tell you the truth. This -was a runaway marriage. She was an only child, and her parents doated -on her. I dare not think what they will say. How am I to break it to -them? Ought I to go myself?’ - -‘I don’t think they would let you leave Dover until after the inquest, -Mr Walcheren, but your late wife’s relations should certainly be told -at once. If you wish it, to-morrow being a free day with me, I will go -and break the sad intelligence to them.’ - -‘It will greatly relieve me if you will. And every expense, you know -doctor--’ - -‘Yes, yes. We need not mention that at present. When you have strength -to write down the names and addresses, I will make my arrangements.’ - -‘And what about the gentleman who called twice to see Mrs Walcheren -to-day?’ inquired the landlord. ‘Is he a relation of hers?’ - -‘No, curse him!’ said Frederick unthinkingly. - -The doctor and the landlord glanced at one another. - -‘I have _his_ name and address on his card,’ whispered Mr Cameron -significantly to his companion. ‘I fancy he will be subpœnaed. He may -have seen the poor lady after she left the hotel.’ - -‘What are you whispering about?’ said Frederick irritably. - -‘Nothing, sir. I will speak to the people of the house. I know them -well, and they will see you have everything you may want.’ - -‘And I will communicate with you directly I return to Dover,’ added the -doctor. - -And so they left him to his vigil, with his hand clasping the hand of -his dead wife, and his face bowed down till it was lost in the folds of -her dress. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - - -The next morning Henry Hindes received a scrawl, in a hand which he -could not recognise as that of Mr Crampton’s, containing but three -words, ‘Come to me.’ - -He guessed at once what they meant. He had just returned from church -with his wife and elder children. He had not dared to refuse to go, for -he was a regular attendant there, and the omission would have looked -peculiar. So he had stood and knelt and sat through a service of two -mortal hours, whilst his eyes gazed into space and his mind was a -blank, and he only followed mechanically what the others said or did. - -He walked home with Hannah on his arm and Elsie and Laurie trotting -before them, for the Hindes were far too strict a family to have out -their horses on a Sunday, but all the while that acquaintances were -bowing and smiling and exchanging civilities with himself and his wife, -he was wondering how soon the news would reach Hampstead, and if it -would come by telegraph or post, or if Walcheren would send a special -messenger to break it to the old people at ‘The Cedars.’ And as soon as -he re-entered his own house, the note was handed to him with the fatal -words ‘Come to me!’ He knew then that the worst was known--that the -poor parents had been told of their bereavement, and that it was his -mission to fly to comfort them. - -‘What can be the matter?’ questioned Hannah. ‘Can they have already -heard from Jenny, or do you think it possible she can be in Hampstead? -Oh, Henry! if they meet, surely Mr Crampton cannot refuse to speak to -her!’ - -‘I know no more than you do,’ he answered, ‘but I suppose I must go! -The old man may have been taken ill. He looked bad enough for anything -yesterday evening.’ - -‘Oh! certainly, Henry dear, you must go at once, and you can take your -luncheon with them. But I shall be impatient to hear what he wants you -for. If Jenny should be there--oh, Henry, you _will_ let me know, won’t -you? for I should love to give the dear girl a kiss, and assure her of -my faithful friendship. You will send someone over to tell me, in that -case, won’t you, dearest?’ - -‘Yes, yes; of course I will,’ he answered, quickly, ‘but there is no -likelihood of such a thing. Good-bye, I had better be off at once.’ - -And so he left her. The scene he encountered at ‘The Cedars’ is easier -imagined than described. Mr Crampton received him in his library, in -the presence of his wife, and sister-in-law, and Dr M‘Coll. The old -man looked as if he had suddenly crumpled up. His features were drawn -and shrivelled, and his complexion the colour of parchment. His wife -was laid face downwards on a couch at the further end of the room, -stupefied with the shock of the news they had just heard, whilst Miss -Bostock sat by her, silent and motionless, with her hands hanging -passively on her lap. No one stirred except the doctor, as Henry -Hindes, white and trembling, but with the assumption of being at his -ease, entered the room. - -‘Well, my dear friend,’ he commenced cheerily, ‘what is it?’ - -Mr Crampton turned to the doctor, and muttered in a croaking voice, -‘Tell him.’ - -‘I have the misfortune to be the bearer of very bad news to Mr and -Mrs Crampton, sir,’ said Dr M‘Coll, in obedience to his instructions. -‘Their daughter, Mrs Walcheren, met with a terrible accident on the -Dover cliffs yesterday afternoon, and is, in fact--has not recovered -the injuries inflicted--is lying at this moment--dead!’ - -Henry Hindes’ face went crimson instead of pale. - -‘Dead, sir!’ he ejaculated slowly, as if he were choosing his words, -‘are you sure she is dead? An accident? How can you tell it was an -accident? Might not someone have done it on purpose--have pushed her -over?’ - -Then he paused, as if he thought he had been talking too fast, and -repeated his first question: ‘But are you sure that she will not -recover? She is very young, you know,’ after which, perceiving the -grief of all around him, he broke down, exclaiming, ‘Oh! Jenny dead! -Impossible! Impossible! Why, I went to see her only yesterday! She -can’t be dead! my dear, dear friend!’ seizing old Crampton’s hand; -‘don’t give way! It is impossible!’ - -‘You are only buoying this gentleman up with false hopes, sir,’ said Dr -M‘Coll. ‘There is no doubt of the truth of the news, distressing as it -may be, and I am commissioned by Mr Walcheren to break it to all whom -it may concern. As to your suggestion that it may be due to foul play, -there is nothing whatever to point to it, but it will cause the subject -of the inquiry at the inquest to-morrow. Your presence will, of course, -be necessary, also Mr Crampton’s. I understand, as you say yourself, -that you went down to Dover yesterday to see the unfortunate lady, so -that your testimony may be valuable to the coroner, and the marriage -having been, I am told, a little irregular, there is the more necessity -that everything should be made perfectly clear.’ - -‘An inquest!’ stammered Hindes. ‘But surely there is no need of our -undergoing such a painful ordeal? Why, it will nearly kill Mr Crampton. -My dear friend, you must not think of attending it.’ - -‘Not go?’ cried the old man, suddenly rousing himself from the lethargy -into which he had temporarily fallen. ‘What are you saying, Hindes? Of -course we must go. Don’t you see how this has come about? That villain -has murdered her; he stole her from me first, and then he killed her. -Who else would have pushed her over the cliff? My poor butchered lamb! -my pretty Jenny! my beautiful, innocent daughter! Oh! but we will be -avenged on him, never fear; we’ll see him brought to justice and give a -hand to set him swinging. My poor child! my murdered darling! I can see -how the whole damnable trick was done!’ - -‘You must not heed what he says,’ whispered the doctor to Henry Hindes, -‘the shock has been too much for him, though I broke it as gently as -I could. You must get him to bed and give him a sleeping draught, but -don’t listen to any nonsense he may talk. There never was a clearer -case of misadventure. The poor girl went out on the cliffs alone and -fell over them. The coroner can bring in no other verdict.’ - -‘But why, then, need we attend?’ asked Hindes, with quivering lips; ‘it -will be a fearful trial for all of us. What do we need more than your -assurance of the calamity that has befallen?’ - -‘You may need nothing more, Mr Hindes, but the law needs your -deposition as to what you know of the matter.’ - -‘I know nothing--nothing--’ repeated Hindes. - -‘Then you can say so,’ answered Dr M‘Coll, shortly. - -‘No, we know nothing as yet,’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, eagerly, ‘but we -_will_ know it. We will not rest till we have got at the bottom of this -infamy. If ever a poor child was murdered, my girl has been.’ - -‘Papa, papa,’ wailed Mrs Crampton from the sofa, ‘don’t speak like -that, or you will break my heart.’ - -‘Ay, my poor woman,’ said her husband, ‘you’ve plenty of cause to -greet. They’ve taken your ewe lamb from you. You had but one left, and -the Lord let her be done to death, without stretching forth His hand -to save. And yet they say He cares for us! But the murderer shall be -brought to justice, never fear. I’ll see to that.’ - -‘Oh! if he goes on like this he’ll kill me,’ sobbed the tortured mother. - -‘Mr Crampton,’ interposed the doctor, ‘we all feel deeply for you in -this sore affliction, but you must not bring unmeaning accusations -against anyone. There is no question of how your poor daughter came by -her death. It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more.’ - -‘I know better, sir, I know better,’ replied Mr Crampton. ‘You can’t -deceive me. My lamb was murdered, and may God’s deepest curse rest--’ - -‘Oh! stop, stop,’ cried Henry Hindes, holding up his hand. ‘It is -terrible to hear you blaspheming in this manner, without the least -authority to do so. It will not ease your own pain, Crampton, and may -add to it hereafter. For your wife’s sake and your own, let me take you -to your room, where you can think over this terrible news in quiet. -Trust in God, Crampton, trust in God. There is nothing else to be done -in a time like the present.’ - -But the old man, usually so acquiescent in all that his partner said, -turned round on him, on this occasion, in a fury. - -‘Don’t preach to me, Hindes!’ he exclaimed, angrily. ‘It’s all very -well for you to talk of trusting in God, whilst your own kids are -safe at home, but lose five, my boy, lose five--three boys and two -girls--and set all your hopes and chances of happiness on the remaining -one, and have her murdered before your eyes, and then talk of trusting -in God. You’re a hypocrite, sir, a d--d hypocrite.’ - -‘Mr Crampton,’ said Henry Hindes, deeply wounded, ‘I never thought to -hear you speak to me like this.’ - -‘For shame, John, for shame!’ exclaimed his wife, rousing herself for -a moment. ‘What are you thinking of? Mr Hindes, too, who loved our -darling almost as if she had been his own child, and who has always -been so kind to her and us all.’ - -‘Ah, well, well,’ said the old man in a tired voice, ‘I suppose I was -wrong, and I ask your pardon for it, Hindes. But I don’t seem to quite -know what I am saying. My head keeps going round so. I suppose you -are right, and I should be better by myself for a few hours. Give me -your arm, and take me to my own room. I leave this gentleman in your -hands, Hindes. See that he is attended to, and arrange everything for -our going down to Dover. Good-morning, sir!’ and with that Mr Crampton -rose, and, leaning on the arm of his friend, quitted the apartment. - -There was a less difficult task with the women, whose sorrow was too -deep for words. Then Dr M‘Coll agreed with Mr Hindes that they had -better travel down to Dover by an early train on the morrow, as every -endeavour was being made to have the inquest on that day, on account -of the hot weather rendering it desirable to get the burial over as -quickly as possible. Hindes shuddered at the thought, but showed no -emotion beyond that which was evinced by his white face and silent -demeanour. Luncheon was then served for the doctor, and he departed to -interview Mr Philip Walcheren on the matter, when Henry Hindes was free -to return home. - -Here, as may be imagined, he had a difficult task before him, but he -felt freer, for, in the presence of his wife, who had loved Jenny -Crampton so dearly, he was not ashamed to break down himself, and give -some relief to his overcharged feelings. Hannah’s grief was extreme, -but she tried to curb it for the sake of her husband, who only rose in -her estimation for the tears and moans which he felt he might indulge -in at last. - -Both husband and wife had quite exhausted themselves with their -emotion, when a servant entered to announce that a constable desired to -speak to his master. Hannah could not help observing how vividly white -Henry became at this intimation. She could not understand it, unless -the sad events of the day had so undermined his usual intrepidity as to -make him start at shadows. - -‘Only a constable, Henry, dear,’ she repeated, seeing how he trembled. -‘It is probably something to do with this unhappy business! Will you -see him here?’ - -‘No! no!’ replied her husband, as he wiped the sweat from his -forehead, ‘not here! Let him wait, Johnson! I will be with him -presently--presently!’ - -Could anything have been discovered? he thought to himself, as he leant -against the form of his wife for support, and she passed her cambric -handkerchief across his wet hair. Was it possible he had dropped any -article belonging to him on the spot where he and Jenny had stood -together? Had this man come to tell him that he was suspected, and must -consider himself under arrest until the inquest had been held on the -morrow? - -He pushed Hannah’s kindly ministrations away and stood upright. - -‘I cannot see him in this condition,’ he said, alluding to his swollen -eyelids and stained cheeks. ‘I must go to my room first and smooth my -hair.’ - -He escaped by a back way as he spoke, and gaining his dressing-room, -arranged his toilet a little. Then he searched in a drawer for a bottle -of morphia, which he had been occasionally in the habit of taking to -induce sleep, for the condition of his mind regarding Jenny Crampton -had not been conducive to sound and restful repose. - -‘If I am taken away from here,’ he thought, ‘I will not reach Dover. -They shall see I know a trick worth two of that.’ - -He thrust the vial in his breast and descended to the hall to interview -the constable. But he had come on a very simple errand. He had received -information from the Dover police that the inquiry on the death of Mrs -Walcheren had been fixed for the morrow, and that Mr Hindes’ presence -would be necessary. - -‘You see, sir,’ said the man, fumbling with his papers, ‘we’re sorry -to trouble you, but as you went down to Dover to see the lady, it -is necessary the coroner should hear the why and the wherefore of -everything to come to a right understanding of the case. It’s a sad -thing, ain’t it, sir? A poor young creature done to death in a moment, -as you may say, and only married on the Friday.’ - -‘A frightful thing, indeed, constable!’ replied Hindes. - -‘The poor gentleman, they say, is almost out of his senses, as he well -may be,’ continued the policeman; ‘they can’t get him away from the -corpse, and he turns round like a madman on any one who proposes of it. -Perhaps so be you’re a relation, sir!’ - -‘No, no; only a friend,’ said Hindes, quickly. - -‘Well, he ought to have some friend by him now, if all they tell me is -true, for the shock seems to have unsettled his mind. The inquiry won’t -be till three o’clock to-morrow afternoon, sir, at the ‘Bottle and -Spurs’ public-house, where the poor lady lies. If you’re there, sir, -they’ll get it over at once, but if so be as you’re not there, the jury -will have to be called to attend another day.’ - -‘I shall be there,’ replied Henry Hindes, and then he went upstairs -again and replaced the vial in the drawer before he rejoined his wife. -‘Only a notice to attend this miserable inquest, my dear,’ he said in -explanation as he threw himself on a couch and buried his face in his -hands. - -‘Oh, Henry, how much I wish it were not necessary for you to go! I know -how bitterly you will feel it! To have to be questioned by a man who -cares nothing for our poor dear darling, and who will rake up all sorts -of things to wound you and make the remembrance still more bitter than -it is; but it is your duty, and you must go! Shall you see her, Harry?’ -she added, in a whisper. - -Her husband shuddered. - -‘I suppose so! That is, if I must!’ - -‘But you wouldn’t like our sweet Jenny to go to her grave without a -last look, dear, I am sure! And may I send some flowers to put over -her? Will you take them from me?’ - -‘No! no! for God’s sake, no!’ cried Hindes, covering his face again; ‘I -cannot enter into all these harrowing details like women can. I shall -go down and come away again as quickly as possible; the sight of the -poor child would kill me! I have no morbid inclination for gazing at -corpses, Hannah.’ - -‘But our poor Jenny,’ said his wife, regretfully; ‘it would seem to -me like refusing to look at Elsie or Laurie if they were taken from -us. Thank God they are not. Oh, poor Mrs Crampton,’ continued Hannah, -breaking down again; ‘what must she be feeling at this moment! How I -pity her with my whole, whole heart!’ - -Meanwhile, Philip Walcheren, having heard the news of Jenny’s death -from Dr M‘Coll, had hastened to the presence of Father Tasker. - -‘A judgment, a judgment, my dear father!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have just -heard the most terrible piece of news. Poor, misguided Frederick’s -young wife was killed yesterday by a fall over the cliffs at Dover!’ - -‘Heaven rest her soul!’ said the priest, crossing himself. ‘Who told -you of it?’ - -‘A medical man called M‘Coll, who came from Dover, at Frederick’s -request, to break the news to me. There is to be an inquest held on -the remains of the poor, young creature to-morrow, and Frederick would -like me to support him on the occasion. Can you manage to accompany me, -father? Your presence might have a great effect on my cousin.’ - -‘No, my son, I think not! You had better go alone! This is not a -time for exhortation or reproof. It is the time for affection and -kindness. Your poor cousin will, as you say, feel very desolate, and -as if Heaven had forsaken him. Let him find if he has lost a wife -he has found a brother. If ever we are to succeed in our plans for -him--if ever our hopes of persuading him to enter the Church are to -be realised, it is now--now, when he will feel as if the world had -given way beneath him. Go down to-night by all means and comfort him -as best you can. This marriage was entered into, you tell me, without -the consent of the lady’s parents. Possibly, they may be the more set -against him in consequence of this event, though it happened from no -fault of his own. Let him see that his misfortunes bind us more nearly -to him--make us more anxious that he should seek comfort where it is -only to be obtained--in the exercise of his religion. Heaven’s workings -are very mysterious, my son. I see already in this sad dispensation, -a glimmer of hope for your cousin’s future. Perhaps this, and nothing -else, would have made him regard your exhortations and my entreaties in -a proper light.’ - -‘God grant you may be right, father,’ answered Philip. ‘If I could see -Frederick fulfilling my good Aunt Alicia’s wishes, and his godfather’s -intentions, by entering our Holy Church, and dedicating his money to -her use, I should feel my life had not been wasted by devoting it to -such a purpose.’ - - - - -CHAPTER X. - - -Frederick was still bending over the dead body of his wife, when Philip -Walcheren entered the little back parlour of the ‘Bottle and Spurs’ -that evening. The landlady told him that he had not left the room since -the preceding night. - -‘Nor has bit nor sup passed his lips, sir, except a cup of coffee, -which I made expressly, and took to him this morning. Nor haven’t his -clothes been off, neither! I’m sure I don’t know what _is_ to become of -the poor gentleman at this rate. He seems just eat up with grief.’ - -‘I will go to him,’ said Philip, as he turned the handle of the door -and entered his cousin’s presence. - -Frederick was much in the same position he had at first assumed. He -occupied a chair by the side of the table on which the body of poor -Jenny lay--his hand clasped hers, and his head was bowed down on the -deal boards. - -‘Frederick--my dear Frederick,’ said Philip, gently. - -At the sound of his voice the bereaved husband roused himself, and made -a slight deprecatory gesture with his hand. - -‘Don’t speak to me--don’t reproach me,’ he answered, bitterly, ‘for I -cannot bear it.’ - -‘Far be it from me to reproach you, Frederick,’ replied his cousin -as he laid his hand on his; ‘on the contrary, I have come to comfort -you, as far as lies in my power, under the terrible calamity that has -befallen you.’ - -‘No one can comfort me, Philip.’ - -‘No one but our Heavenly Father, Frederick, and our Blessed Mother, who -is watching your sufferings even now, with eyes of divine compassion -and love.’ - -‘I don’t believe it,’ said the other, brusquely; ‘if she pitied me why -didn’t she prevent it? She could stand by and see the whole of my life -ruined at a blow. What pity is there in that? What good can her pity -do me after my love has been taken from me? Look at her, Philip,’ he -continued, uncovering the pretty, bruised face of the dead, over which -the livid hues of decomposition were already beginning to steal. ‘See -how lovely she was! How young! how innocent! And she loved me--she -loved me! And now it is all over; we are torn asunder for evermore. -Oh, God! it is too hard for mortal man to bear! They might have let me -enjoy a few months, a few weeks of happiness in her affection, but to -call her mine one day and to lose her the next--I shall kill myself. I -cannot live without her!’ - -‘Hush, my dear Frederick, hush!’ replied Philip, ‘God’s hand is very -heavy upon you, but you must not blaspheme. Was not this beautiful -creature His as well as yours? May He not do as He wills with His -own? No one denies the awful grief you are called upon to bear, but -you cannot lessen it by raving against the justice of the Almighty. -Rather bend with submission to His decree, my dear cousin, and live -your future life so as you may meet your wife again. You can think -of nothing now but your exceeding loss, but when you have time to -consider, you will realise that she is not really gone, only hidden -from your natural sight for a little while, and that, if you choose it, -you are bound to meet her again and to dwell with her for ever!’ - -This thought broke down the unhappy man. - -‘Oh! my Jenny, my Jenny!’ he sobbed, ‘is it possible you are looking -on your wretched husband now? that you pity and love him and will wait -for him at the eternal gates? Philip, Philip, is this a judgment on -me? I have been thinking ever since it happened of that unfortunate -girl, Rhoda Berry, at Luton! I cannot get her out of my head! All last -night I fancied I saw her grinning and rejoicing at my misfortune. Has -God done this out of anger for my sin? Has He made my sweet innocent -wife the scapegoat for my iniquity? Was it the blood of the other -woman, crying up from the eternal depths for vengeance, that caused my -angel to take a false step and meet with her death over those dreadful -cliffs? The idea has nearly driven me mad! Tell me it is not true!’ - -‘My dear cousin--my dear brother, for such you are in affection to -me--I cannot say that this loss has not been sent by the Almighty -Father to wake you to a sense of the sinful life you have been -leading. I should be false to my trust and to my belief were I to say -so. But for whatever reason it has been permitted, it has come in -love, Frederick, from a Father Who cannot see you ruin your hopes of -everlasting happiness, but would have the soul of your beloved wife, -and your own soul as well, in His keeping. My dear Fred, you must -know that you were wrong, not only to marry this poor child under the -existing circumstances, but to marry her without the consent of her -parents. Think of the trouble you have brought upon them, those poor -old people, who had no one to solace their age but this young creature -who lies before us. Frederick, my dear cousin, I know you don’t believe -in prayer, but let me pray for you and for _her_, that she may be -received into the ranks of those who shall be saved hereafter, even -though as by fire!’ - -‘Do you mean to say she is not happy now? That she has not already -entered into the joys of Heaven?’ asked Frederick anxiously. - -‘My dear cousin, you have surely not so far forgotten the precepts -of our Holy Church as to imagine that Heaven is obtained without -purgatory--bliss without self-sacrifice. This poor girl, however -innocent and blameless she may have seemed, will have her expiation -to pass through, as well as all of us. But we can pray for her, that -she may find relief. We can yield up our own wishes, our own pleasures, -that she may the sooner pass from purgatory to Paradise. Much will rest -with you. Your future life will make or mar her progress to the gates -of Heaven!’ - -‘It shall not mar it,’ replied Frederick, brokenly; ‘my life is worth -nothing to me now, and I will give it into your hands and Father -Tasker’s to do with as you think fit!’ - -Philip Walcheren smiled inwardly, not sardonically, for he was in -earnest if man ever was, but with sublime satisfaction that the -Almighty had seen fit to deliver the soul of this bruised reed into the -power of the Church. He had no doubt now but that his hopes for his -cousin’s future were assured, and the poisoned barb had gone home so -deeply that whilst the sting lasted he would be able to wield Frederick -as he chose. But he was too prudent to press the subject home at the -present moment. He contented himself with consoling his cousin to the -best of his ability, always keeping before him the power and influence -of the Blessed Mother of God, and her interest in the souls of young -girls, like the poor dead child before them, until the miserable -husband was almost supplicating the Virgin of his boyhood, then and -there, to save his darling from the pit his misdeeds had drawn her -into--he, who had not breathed a prayer for years past. - -Philip Walcheren stayed by him all through that night and until the -coroner’s jury assembled on the following afternoon. At the appointed -hour a noise, as of the trampling of many feet, sounded in the public -bar of the house, and Philip touched Frederick gently on the shoulder. - -‘Fred, dear old man, rouse yourself. Here are the coroner and jury -coming to view the body. And Mr Crampton and Mr Hindes wish to come in -first. Be brave, my dear cousin. It is a painful but necessary ordeal. -Stand apart a little and let your wife’s father have access to the -body. It is his right, you know.’ - -The young man stood up mechanically, and taking Philip’s arm staggered -to the other side of the room. Mr Crampton entered, leaning on Henry -Hindes. The latter was suffering the tortures of the damned. His eyes -were not still for a moment, and his whole frame shook and quivered. -The sight of the crushed and pallid corpse struck both men like a heavy -blow. Old Crampton gazed at it for a minute, muttering, ‘My God! My -God! can that be my Jenny?’ but Hindes said nothing, and kept his eyes -turned on Frederick Walcheren. Presently Mr Crampton’s followed suit, -and the sight appeared to rouse him into fury. - -‘Yes!’ he exclaimed, brandishing his stick, ‘there lies my murdered -child, and there stands her murderer.’ - -‘Crampton, Crampton, think what you are saying!’ cried Hindes, shaking -his friend’s arm, whilst Philip Walcheren said angrily, ‘If the effect -of this sad sight, which should draw two men in misfortune together, -is only to cause you to make malevolent and unjustifiable accusations, -sir, I shall be compelled, as my cousin’s friend, to request you to -leave the room. This lady may have been your daughter, but she was his -wife, and as such, no one has a right to intrude upon his grief.’ - -‘Ay, Ay! a wife he stole from me, sir--that he _stole_ from me, and -murdered!’ repeated the old man, shaking with rage. - -‘Gentlemen, I must beg you to clear the room,’ said the landlord at -this juncture. ‘The coroner and jury are coming in to view the body.’ - -His wife, entering at the same time, hustled them all into another -apartment, where they sat glaring at each other, until their time came -to be called to appear and give evidence. The coroner, a Mr Procter, -rather prided himself on his astuteness. He was for ever finding a -mountain in a molehill, for he hoped to mount the magisterial chair -some day, and his aim was to impress the public with his cleverness and -ingenuity. The first witnesses called were the two boatmen Jackson and -Barnes, who had found Jenny’s body lying at the bottom of the cliffs. - -‘It was five o’clock or nigh upon it, please yer honour,’ commenced the -spokesman, ‘as I and my mate here went to the lower beach to haul up -our boats.’ - -‘What do you call the “lower beach”?’ snapped Mr Procter, who was a -sandy-haired man, with a pimply face and red-rimmed eyes, ‘all the -beach is lower than the cliffs.’ - -‘Yes, yer honour; but we calls the beach below Dragon’s Foot the lower -beach, because so be, when the tide runs out--’ - -‘You are not here to tell us when the tide runs out, but to say how you -discovered the body of the deceased Jane Emily Walcheren,’ said the -coroner, consulting his papers. - -‘Yes, yer worship. Well! as I and my mate here was a-haulin’ up the -boats, I says to him, I says, “Bob,” I says, “what be that ’ere bundle -of white,” I says, “under the cliff?” “Blowed if I know,” he says, “it -looks like a sheet as has blowed over in drying,” he says.’ - -‘You are not here to tell the jury what your mate thought the body -looked like. You are to tell us how you found it.’ - -‘Yes, sir. Well, sir, we thought it was a sheet, you see, but when -we went to pick it up, we see it was a young woman. So we lifted her -atween us and carries her to this ’ere ’ouse, and then my mate he -fetches Dr M‘Coll. And that’s all, sir!’ - -‘Very good! Now, tell us, please, when you found the body was there no -one about?’ - -‘Not a soul as we see, my lord--I mean, yer worship--the beach was -empty from hend to hend.’ - -‘And the cliffs?’ - -‘Didn’t see a soul on the cliffs neither, yer worship.’ - -‘You met no one on your way here? You are sure!’ - -‘Quite sure, your honour! ’Twould be all over the town if we had!’ - -‘Very well! You can sit down. Call Dr M‘Coll!’ - -The doctor, having been sworn, deposed that he had been called to the -‘Bottle and Spurs’ at about six o’clock on Saturday night, to see the -deceased. She was then quite dead--had been dead for two or three -hours. There was a large bruise on the temple caused by her striking -against the rocks in her fall. That was of itself sufficient to have -caused death, but the spine was broken and the neck. The body was also -much bruised. There was no question but that the deceased had met her -death by falling over the cliffs. - -‘Now, Dr M‘Coll, I should like to put a few questions to you, if you -please,’ said Mr Procter, looking his very sharpest. ‘Is it your -opinion that the deceased must inevitably have fallen over the cliffs -of her own accord? Might she not have been blown over, or pushed over, -or thrown herself over by design?’ - -‘Certainly she might! It is impossible to say how she came to fall -over, but she _did_ fall over--that is beyond a question.’ - -‘Ah!’ said the coroner, with self-satisfaction, as if he had discovered -a very knotty point. ‘Then you consider death was due--’ - -‘To dislocation of the spine from a fall over the cliffs.’ - -‘That’s your opinion, is it?’ remarked the coroner, dubiously. - -‘Yes, sir, that’s my opinion,’ replied M‘Coll shortly, as he retired. - -The next witness was Crampton. He came tottering into the room, and -stood supporting himself on his silver-mounted cane. - -‘You are, I believe, the father of the deceased, Mr Crampton,’ began -the coroner, scrutinising the old man through his eye-glasses. - -‘I am, sir. She was my only child--the only one I had left.’ - -‘And she was married on the Friday preceding her death?’ - -‘She was, worse luck!’ - -‘Was her marriage undertaken with your consent, Mr Crampton?’ - -At this question, the old man became violently agitated. - -‘It was not, sir. She was stolen from me by a villain, who came to my -house under the disguise of friendship, and--’ - -Some one in the jury remarked that this was quite irrelevant to the -evidence on hand, but Mr Procter ordered him to be silent. - -‘This poor gentleman has sustained a double injury,’ he said. ‘Let him -tell his story in his own words.’ - -‘I have not much more to say, gentlemen,’ resumed Mr Crampton. ‘This -man, Frederick Walcheren, stole my daughter from me, and the next thing -I hear is that she is dead. It is not a long story, but it is a very -bitter one.’ - -‘And you have the full sympathy of the jury for it, Mr Crampton. I -believe your daughter was your heiress. Did you threaten to make any -alteration in your will if she went against your wishes?’ - -‘I did. I said that if she married this Walcheren, who is a Papist, she -shouldn’t have a halfpenny.’ - -‘Did you make the same intimation to Mr Walcheren?’ - -‘I think not, at least personally, but I suppose she did, for they ran -away together two days afterwards. And this is the end of it--this is -the end.’ - -‘You have recognised the deceased as your daughter?’ - -The father broke down. - -‘Oh, yes, sir, I have recognised her only too well. My poor pretty -darling. She was called the “Beauty of Hampstead,” sir, the “Beauty of -Hampstead.”’ - -‘Thank you, Mr Crampton, that will do. I am sorry to have troubled -you so far, but it was necessary. You can retire, sir. Call Mr Henry -Hindes.’ - -The witness entered the room, with a pallid face, compressed lips, as -if resolved that nothing should make him betray himself, and a stolid -demeanour which was wholly put on. The stakes were too high. He could -not afford to think or fear. All he had to do was to believe things -were _not so_, and to act accordingly. - -‘You look ill, Mr Hindes. Do you wish for a chair?’ - -‘Certainly not! But I am an old friend of the family. I have known the -deceased from a child.’ - -‘Ah! We will detain you as short a time as possible. You were in Dover, -Mr Hindes, on Saturday last, I believe. Will you tell the jury why you -came here?’ - -‘I came at the instigation, and with the knowledge, of my old friends -Mr and Mrs Crampton, to bring a message to their daughter, and to see -if I could effect a reconciliation between them.’ - -‘Between them and the young couple?’ - -‘No, not with Mr Walcheren--they steadfastly refused to see or speak -with Mr Walcheren--but with his wife, their daughter.’ - -‘How could a reconciliation be effected with one and not with the -other?’ - -‘Because Miss Crampton--the deceased--had married without the consent -of her people, and her father had cut her out of his will. But, as the -marriage was somewhat irregular--’ - -‘How was it irregular?’ - -‘Miss Crampton was not of age, and Mr Walcheren swore, when he procured -the licence, that she was!’ - -‘Oh! he did!’ said the coroner, making a note of the fact on his -papers; ‘and Mr Crampton cut the deceased out of his will in -consequence?’ - -‘He did so, or meant to do so, but he sent me here with a message to -the effect that if she would return home, and permit the marriage to be -annulled, he would receive her back, but on no other terms.’ - -‘And may I ask what the lady said when you delivered that message to -her?’ - -‘I never delivered it! I did not see her! I called twice at the Castle -Warden Hotel, but each time was told that she was out, so I returned to -town without seeing her!’ - -‘And you did not see Mr Walcheren either?’ - -‘I did not see Mr Walcheren either.’ - -‘Upon which you returned to town?’ - -‘Yes! I went up by the five-thirty train.’ - -‘One moment, Mr Hindes. Can you tell me if Mr Walcheren was aware of Mr -Crampton’s intention to cut his daughter out of his will _before_ this -marriage took place?’ - -‘I do not know! I was deputed once to make Mr Crampton’s wishes -relative to his daughter known to Mr Walcheren, and the risk may have -been mentioned, but he would not take it as a definite decision from -me. The chief objection always brought forward was to his religion. Mr -Crampton would not hear of his daughter marrying a Roman Catholic.’ - -‘Of course not! very natural!’ observed Mr Procter, who, like most -of the middle classes in England, was an ultra-Protestant, and only -connected Catholicism with monasteries, nunneries, fasting, confession -and the Grand Inquisition. - -‘That will do, Mr Hindes! you can stand down,’ said the coroner, with -a smile. The next witnesses examined were Mr Cameron, the landlord of -the Castle Warden, and the waiters and chambermaids, who had or had not -seen poor Jenny Walcheren leave the hotel on that fatal day. - -Then came a call for the last witness--the witness whom Mr Procter had -purposely reserved to the last. - -‘Tell Mr Frederick Walcheren he is required.’ - -But Philip Walcheren stepped forward instead. - -‘Are you the husband of the deceased, sir?’ - -‘No! I am his cousin. I have come to ask you if his presence and -testimony on this, the most trying occasion of his life, cannot be -dispensed with? He is half beside himself with grief. Picture to -yourself, gentlemen, a young husband bereft the very day after his -wedding of all that made his life happy. He is not in a fit state to -answer any questions, nor to have his inmost feelings submitted to -scrutiny. Besides, he knows no more than you do! He parted with his -poor wife in radiant health and spirits on Saturday morning, and never -saw her again until she lay on that table as you have seen her. The -doctor has given you his testimony that her death was the result of a -pure accident! Is it necessary, then, that my poor cousin should be -tortured by recalling in public the memories that are nearly driving -him out of his mind.’ - -‘It is absolutely necessary, Mr Walcheren,’ replied the coroner, ‘the -husband’s testimony may prove the most important of all. I cannot, in -the pursuit of my duty, excuse the presence of your cousin. Call Mr -Frederick Walcheren.’ - -And all eyes were turned eagerly towards the door, to watch the advent -of the greatest sufferer of all by this most hapless adventure. - - -END OF VOL. I. - - -COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. - -* * * * * - - - - -Transcriber's note - - -Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. The following -Printer errors have been changed: - - CHANGED FROM TO - Page 2: “by-and-bye” “by-and-by” - Page 21: “dinner-time” “dinner time” - Page 21: “half-an-hour” “half an hour” - Page 40 “unbrella” “umbrella” - Page 47: “anyone of the other” “any one of the other” - Page 49: “spend-thrift” “spendthrift” - Page 56: “Well, really, father” “Well, really, Father” - Page 57: “liason” “liaison” - Page 61: “six thirty” “six-thirty” - Page 67: “promise not see” “promise not to see” - Page 78: “prententions” “pretensions” - Page 80: “Brunnel” “Brunell” - Page 95: “think off” “think of” - Page 111: “Your’s” “Yours” - Page 132: “remains of breakfast was” “remains of the breakfast were” - Page 138: “paralysed us us” “paralysed us” - Page 155: “half-an-hour” “half an hour” - Page 161: “he begun” “he began” - Page 169: “out of her’s” “out of hers” - Page 202: “chosing his words” “choosing his words” - Page 210: “ividly white” “vividly white” - Page 210: “s probably something” “is probably something” - Page 227: “if the effect” “If the effect” - Page 228: “Proctor” “Procter” - Page 232: “Proctor” “Procter” - Page 238: “of hs” “of his” - -All other inconsistencies are as in the original. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY *** - -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - 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 will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website 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/69286-0.zip b/old/69286-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e895a80..0000000 --- a/old/69286-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69286-h.zip b/old/69286-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e633458..0000000 --- a/old/69286-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69286-h/69286-h.htm b/old/69286-h/69286-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 170f220..0000000 --- a/old/69286-h/69286-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7388 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" > - <title> - The Hampstead Mystery, by Florence Marryat—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" > - <style> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.margin-bottom4 {margin-bottom: 4em;} - -.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} -.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.x-ebookmaker p { - margin-top: .5em; - margin-bottom: .25em; -} - -.ph2, .ph3, .ph4 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; } -.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; } -.ph3 { font-size: large; margin: .83em auto; } -.ph4 { font-size: medium; margin: 1.12em auto; } - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} -table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } -table.autotable td - -.tdl {text-align: left;} -.tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - visibility: visible; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; - text-indent: 0; -} /* page numbers */ - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -/* Images */ - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transcriberNote { -background-color: #DDE; -border: black 1px dotted; -color: #000; -font-family: sans-serif; -font-size: 80%; -margin: 2em 5%; -padding: 1em; -} - -</style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hampstead mystery, by Florence Marryat</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Hampstead mystery</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>a novel. Volume 1 (of 3)</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Florence Marryat</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 1, 2022 [eBook #69286]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Carla Foust, Emmanuel Ackerman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 497px;"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="497" height="700" alt="" title="" > -</div> - -<h1>THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY.</h1> - - - - - -<p class="ph2 margin-bottom4"><b>A Novel.</b></p> - - -<p class="ph3 margin-bottom4">BY</p> - - -<p class="ph2">FLORENCE MARRYAT,</p> - -<p class="ph4 margin-bottom4">AUTHOR OF ‘LOVE’S CONFLICT,’ ‘VÉRONIQUE,’ ‘MY OWN -CHILD,’ ‘MY SISTER THE ACTRESS,’ ‘HOW LIKE -A WOMAN,’ ‘PARSON JONES,’ ETC., ETC.</p> - -<p class="ph3 margin-bottom4"><i>IN THREE VOLUMES.</i><br> -VOL. I.</p> - -<p class="ph2">LONDON:<br> -F. V. WHITE & CO.,<br> -14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.<br> -1894.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"><i>CONTENTS.</i></h2> -</div> - - - - -<table class="autotable"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER I.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER II.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER III.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER IV.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER V.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER VI.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER VII.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER VIII.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171">171</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER IX.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">CHAPTER X.,</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_HAMPSTEAD_MYSTERY">THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY.</h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph2"><i>The Hampstead Mystery.</i></p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>‘Once for all,’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, -bringing down his broad fist heavily upon -the table, ‘once for all, I tell you, <i>I will -not have it</i>.’</p> - -<p>At this terrible assertion, Mrs Crampton -shivered as if she had been struck, and -Aunt Clem silently dissolved into tears. -Henry Hindes, of all the party, alone -preserved his composure. He leaned back -in his chair, carefully trimming his filbert -nails with a penknife, as if the affair under -discussion were not of the slightest -moment.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<p>‘Of course you will not have it,’ he said -after a pause to Mr Crampton, ‘no man -in his senses would. Mr Frederick Walcheren -has money and good looks, but there -his claims to admiration end. The first -you do not require for your daughter, and -the second would have no weight with anyone -but a woman. To place against these -supposed advantages, Mr Walcheren is a -young man of dissolute habits, and lavish -expenditure. You should hear what his -cousin, Philip Walcheren, says of him.’</p> - -<p>‘I want no one’s opinion but my own,’ -replied Mr Crampton vehemently. ‘Jenny -will have all my money by-and-by, and -she shall marry no man that will make -ducks and drakes of it. Besides, he isn’t -good enough for her in any way. He -thinks, I suppose, because his family have -been a set of idle scoundrels for centuries -past, while my progenitors have been -working to support their children, that his -is the better of the two, but I don’t see it. -Besides, if he were the heir to the Crown, -he shouldn’t have my daughter. He’s a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> -Roman, that’s more than enough for me. -I’ll have no Papists in my family. I hate -the whole crew, with their cunning, underhand -ways. If Jenny won’t give this -Walcheren fellow over, I’ll lock her up on -bread and water till she comes to her senses -again.’</p> - -<p>As neither of the ladies made any -answer to this threat, Mr Hindes interfered -again.</p> - -<p>‘Surely,’ he said with an incredulous -smile, ‘Miss Crampton will not dream of -opposing your wishes in this particular, -when so much depends upon her obedience. -What can she see in this young man to -attract her, above others of his kind; she -who has a crowd of admirers wherever she -goes, and is the acknowledged beauty of -Hampstead? I believe, Crampton, that -you are alarming yourself without cause. -Miss Crampton means nothing serious. -She is merely amusing herself with the sight -of young Walcheren’s infatuation for her.’</p> - -<p>‘It’s more than that,’ returned the older -man; ‘I’ve forbidden the girl to dance with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> -him when she meets him out, or to receive -him here during my absence. And now, -her mother tells me, she met them riding -together yesterday afternoon, and has intercepted -a letter from him to Jenny, in -which he writes as though they were -promised to each other. What am I to -do? I can’t be always at my daughter’s -elbow, and her mother can’t go galloping -all over the country after her. It is -disgraceful to think that a young lady of -twenty can’t be trusted to behave herself -properly as soon as she is out of her -parents’ sight!’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t you think you are making rather -a mountain out of a molehill?’ inquired -Henry Hindes, in the same calm way. -‘Doubtless, Miss Crampton is young and -thoughtless, and, if I may venture to say so—perhaps -just a wee bit spoilt; but is that -any reason that you should suspect her of -impropriety? And, after all, is there anything -wrong or unusual in a lovely girl -being followed and persecuted by her admirers? -Perhaps, if the truth were known,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -Miss Crampton might be as well pleased -to get rid of Mr Walcheren as you -would be.’</p> - -<p>At this juncture, Mrs Crampton took -heart of grace to put in her oar.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, thank you, dear Mr Hindes!’ she -exclaimed. ‘I am sure you are right. -That is, I feel certain that Jenny cares no -more for Mr Walcheren than for anyone -else. She is a trifle wilful and does not -brook contradiction well—I acknowledge -that—and perhaps papa and I have spoilt -her a little; she is such a darling, you -know, that it is very difficult not to spoil -her—but she would never really oppose our -wishes. Papa has only to speak to her—’</p> - -<p>‘Nonsense!’ interposed Mr Crampton -gruffly. ‘I have spoken to her a dozen -times already, and she laughs in my face -and disobeys me as soon as my back is -turned. But this business has gone far -enough, and I mean to put a stop to it. -Where is the girl?’ he continued, turning -to his wife; ‘go and tell her I wish to -speak to her at once!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span></p> - -<p>‘My dear, she has not risen yet. I do -not suppose she is awake!’</p> - -<p>‘And it is past eleven,’ said her husband.</p> - -<p>‘Yes; but remember how late she was -up last night. I don’t think we were -home till past two o’clock.’</p> - -<p>‘Whilst she was dancing with this -young jackanapes, I conclude, and letting -him make eyes at her! Well! it is for the -last time, I can tell Miss Jenny that! If -she disobeys me again, I’ll take her right -away from Hampstead, and she shall never -see it till the fellow’s dead, or married. -No Papistical grandchildren for me! I -can tell her that!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Mr Crampton!’ cried his wife, with -affected horror.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, it is “Oh! Mr Crampton,”’ repeated -the old man angrily, mimicking her -thin tones, ‘and it’ll be “Oh! Mrs Crampton,” -if you don’t take care. It’s more than -half your fault! You should look better after -your daughter, and then these unpleasantries -wouldn’t happen. But you let her -have her own way in everything. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> -just rules you and Miss Bostock, and then -you leave me to rectify your errors. It -isn’t fair on either me or the child!’</p> - -<p>Mrs Crampton and her sister, Miss -Bostock, familiarly known as Aunt Clem, -were now weeping in concert.</p> - -<p>‘I am sure,’ sobbed the mother, ‘I’ve -done everything in my power, short of -turning Mr Walcheren out of doors, to -prevent his calling here so often, because -I knew you didn’t wish it, John. Last -time he came I would not order up tea, -until Jenny made such a point of it that I -could not refuse. And when the dear -child rides, or drives, you know it is -impossible for me to supervise her -actions.’</p> - -<p>‘You should go with her,’ grumbled her -husband.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! dear! I wouldn’t sit behind -those cobs of hers for all the world! It -frightens me to see her drive them. And -she won’t come out in the barouche with -Aunt Clem and me. She laughs at the -very idea. She is so very high-spirited,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -you see. She must have her own way in -everything!’</p> - -<p>‘Well, go and fetch her here,’ said Mr -Crampton shortly; ‘I must speak to her -before I go to town.’</p> - -<p>‘But if she is not dressed, my dear,’ remonstrated -his wife.</p> - -<p>‘Tell her to dress at once and come to -me! Now, no nonsense, or I’ll pull her -out of bed myself.’</p> - -<p>The two women flew from the room to -prevent so awful a contingency, and the -men were left alone. They were partners -in the well-known firm of Messrs Hindes -& Crampton, wool-staplers in the city.</p> - -<p>Henry Hindes, although much the -younger of the two, was head of the business, -having inherited his share through the -death of his father. He was a man of about -five or seven and thirty, smooth and solid -looking, but much more polished in manners -and appearance than his partner. His fair, -thin hair was parted in the middle, and -combed close to his head. He possessed -a powerful brain and a good knowledge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> -of business. His blue eyes, straight thick -nose, and smiling mouth, gave him a -benevolent and cordial look, which made -him a favourite in society. He was -always perfectly dressed, and was proud -of his white hands and filbert nails.</p> - -<p>People who wished to do business with -the firm, always preferred to see the -senior partner to the junior, because the -former was so <i>suave</i> and courteous, and -the latter so rough and curt.</p> - -<p>But Mr Crampton was the tenderer-hearted -man of the two, though he did not -show it so much. His private purse-strings -were always open to help a disabled -workman, or to head a subscription -for the widows and orphans of those who -were removed by death. He was a man -of strong views, however, and a somewhat -obstinate temperament, and this business -of his daughter and Mr Frederick Walcheren -had disturbed him very much. A -Scotchman by birth, and brought up as a -Nonconformist, he had a righteous horror -of Popery, and everything connected with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> -it. On this account alone he had, from -the first, discountenanced the acquaintanceship -of Mr Walcheren with his family; and -to find that his daughter had, in express -opposition to his wishes, made an intimate -friend of the young man, wounded him -in his tenderest point. He sat very -gloomy and silent after his wife and sister-in-law -had left the room, and Mr Hindes -tried his utmost to make him regard the -matter in a more hopeful light. For -years he had been as intimate in the -domestic circle of the Crampton family, -as he was with his partner in the city, and -was regarded as their nearest friend by -them all.</p> - -<p>‘This is a matter that only requires a -few words of explanation to set it right, -Crampton,’ he remarked, ‘so it’s no use -looking so black about it. You must -allow that you and your wife have rather -given Miss Jenny her own way, and -naturally she clings to it. But she loves -you both too much to wilfully oppose -you.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> - -<p>‘I hope so, I hope so!’ replied the old -man. ‘But spoilt children are not always -the most grateful, Hindes. I trust that -Jenny may listen, as you say, to reason, but -I would rather appeal to the young man -himself. Perhaps, if he knew that we will -never give our consent to her marrying a -Papist, he might see the advisability of -giving up the pursuit.’</p> - -<p>‘I will speak to him, if you empower me -to do so,’ said Hindes, eagerly. ‘He is -sure to be at the Bouchers’ dance to-night. -I did not intend to go, but I believe Hannah -wishes to do so, and the opportunity will be -an excellent one, particularly if Miss Crampton -is to be there, and carries out your prohibition -with respect to dancing with him. -He will sulk and sit out, and I shall be able -to give him a hint as to your disapproval of -his suit.’</p> - -<p>‘Do so, Hindes, and I shall be exceedingly -obliged to you,’ replied Mr Crampton. -‘And, if that fails, we must take Jenny away, -for, by hook or by crook, I am determined -to shake that young fellow off.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> - -<p>‘Hannah is going with the little ones to -Broadstairs next week. What do you say -to Miss Crampton accompanying her? You -know how fond my wife is of your daughter, -and she would watch over her like a mother. -At all events, it is worth thinking of.’</p> - -<p>‘It would be a capital plan,’ said Mr -Crampton; ‘but why are you going?’</p> - -<p>‘Because it is time one of us was at the -office, my dear fellow; and, since you are -about to speak to your daughter on this -subject, it is just as well I should be out -of the way. I shall see you later in the -afternoon, but don’t hurry on my account. -And I shall not forget to speak to Mr Walcheren -this evening. I shall not spare him, -I promise you, but lay it on as thick as I -know how, and, if he doesn’t like it, he must -do the other thing. By the way, I know -the cousin, Philip Walcheren, as well as -their mutual director, Father Tasker, so, if -the young man won’t hear reason, I will -appeal to them. There is one convenience -about these Papists, you can generally -wield them through their directors.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<p>‘Yes, the silly fools!’ said Crampton contemptuously. -‘They’re afraid to say their -lives are their own if the priests say they’re -not. Pooh! call them <i>men</i>. They’re more -like a flock of silly sheep, who run baa-ing -after their shepherd.’</p> - -<p>‘In that case,’ replied Mr Hindes, smiling, -‘I’m afraid Mr Frederick Walcheren -must be one of the lost sheep, for, from all -I hear, he does not trouble the church, nor -the director of his conscience much. But -I’ll do my level best to bring him to hear -reason in this instance. <i>Au revoir.</i>’</p> - -<p>And, with a nod and a smile, he was gone.</p> - -<p>‘He’s a true friend,’ thought Mr Crampton -to himself, as he took up the <i>Times</i>, -and tried to possess his soul in patience -until the appearance of his daughter.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Mrs Crampton and Miss -Bostock were making their way, timidly, -towards the young lady’s bedroom. In the -ante-chamber they encountered her maid, -employed in sewing.</p> - -<p>‘Is Miss Crampton awake yet, Ellen?’ -demanded her mother.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span></p> - -<p>‘Oh! no, ma’am, I haven’t heard a sound -of her, and she begged me particularly not -to call her till she rung. She was terrible -tired, she said, and didn’t wish to be disturbed.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m sorry, Ellen, but I’m afraid I must -wake her now. It’s past eleven, and her -papa particularly wishes to see her before -he leaves for the city,’ replied Mrs -Crampton.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, dear! I’m sure I don’t know what -she’ll say,’ remarked the maid, as she -re-applied herself to her work, and looked -as if she was glad the task had not fallen -to her.</p> - -<p>The two ladies entered the adjoining bedroom -on tip-toe, and as if they feared the -result of the least noise. It was one of the -most perfectly-arranged chambers a young -girl could desire, and it was pre-evident that -its furnishings had been selected with the -greatest care, and for someone who was -much loved and treasured. The walls and -chintzes were all of palest pink, the woodwork -of white enamel, and the hangings of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -lace. On the walls were hung a selection -of photographs, chiefly of dogs and horses, -for Miss Crampton’s tastes ran in that line, -and the low, walnut-wood bookcase was -filled with the best authors. Everywhere -were signs of profusion and luxury, for the -Cramptons were rich and spared no expense -for this one beloved child, who made all the -joy of their lives. The toilet table was -covered with silver and cut glass, and on -the mantelpiece stood a handsome clock and -candelabras of Sevres china; but the fairest -sight in all the room was Jenny Crampton -herself, as she lay, flushed, dishevelled and -palpitating on her bed, one of the most -beautiful specimens of work that ever proceeded -from the Creator’s hand. It was -difficult to believe that the two plain women -who stood gazing at her from the foot of -the bed, could be her nearest blood relations. -The questions of hereditary resemblances -and non-resemblances are amongst -the most anomalous in Nature. Whence -did Jenny Crampton inherit her perfect -features and colouring? Her father was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -type of the average middle-class Englishman. -He had a broad-set, muscular figure, -with legs too short for his size, a florid complexion, -with thick bushy eyebrows, a heavy -nose, and a long upper lip. His small grey -eyes were shrewd, but honest and benevolent-looking, -and his hands and feet were -large and coarse. His wife and her sister -might have stood, with a little caricaturing, -for the Frenchman’s notion of an ‘English -Mees.’</p> - -<p>Mrs Crampton had the shapelier and -more matured figure of the two, and her -soft brown eyes, attenuated nose, and weak -drooping mouth, might once have been -styled pretty, but they both possessed -the same tall, flat frames, with sloping -shoulders, long hands and feet, and limp, -lustreless hair. In what enchanted moment, -then, had such progenitors given life to such -a lovely creature, as lay asleep upon the bed -before them? Her rounded dimpled arms -were thrown restlessly above her head (for -it was summer weather), and were half hidden -by the mass of light chestnut hair, that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> -strayed over her pillow. Her tints were -those of a maiden-blush rose. From her -neck and shoulders to her flushed cheeks, -her skin was of one uniform texture, of a -pale cream, just touched with pink. Her -lips were slightly parted as she slept and -showed the row of white teeth within. The -lashes of her eyes lay thick and long upon -her cheeks; and those eyes, when open, -formed, perhaps, the very chief of her attractions. -They were long, limpid eyes, of a -light hazel colour, and with the startled expression -in them of a deer or a child; eyes -which made strangers think that Jenny -Crampton was one of the most innocent -of God’s creatures upon earth, but which -changed considerably in expression when -Jenny’s wishes were in any way crossed, or -her requests disregarded. From the time -when she was a lovely little child (the only -one they had ever kept since its earliest -infancy) Mr and Mrs Crampton had learned -to dread the clouding over of those beautiful -orbs, and the pouting of those pretty lips. -It was in their power to gratify every wish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> -of their child, and so they gratified themselves -at the same time by avoiding anything -so distressing to them as her tears. -Everyone had combined to spoil Jenny -Crampton from her babyhood, and by this -time the young lady was pretty well beyond -all control. The father acceded to -her every request, however unreasonable -or extravagant; and the mother and aunt -only lived to worship her. Even poor -Aunt Clem, who was the standing butt for -Jenny’s ridicule, or the mark for her ill-humour, -considered herself well repaid for -all her patience and endurance if the spoilt -beauty gave her an occasional hasty kiss -(or rather peck) on her cheek, or her cap, -or wherever it might chance to fall, or -honoured her by a request to tie her sash, -or do a commission for her. This was -the sort of education the poor girl had received -to enable her to face the rebuffs of -the world. But, though her bringing-up -had been very faulty, there was no mistake -about her beauty. Far or near, all round -Hampstead and its environs, there was not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -a girl who could vie in good looks with old -Crampton’s daughter, and, as her father was -known to be a very wealthy man, Jenny had -more admirers than she could count on her -ten fingers. But, of them all, none had -really appealed to her senses but Frederick -Walcheren. The Cramptons and Aunt -Clem had a tough time before them.</p> - -<p>‘How lovely she is!’ sighed Miss Bostock, -as an intuition of their presence, even -through her dreams, made Jenny turn restlessly -and throw herself into another -becoming attitude on the other side of -the bed.</p> - -<p>‘Yes! indeed, Clem; but I’m afraid I -must rouse her,’ whispered Mrs Crampton. -‘Papa is really vexed about this business, -and, if she doesn’t see him at once, I fear -he may be more so. Jenny, my darling!’ -she continued, going round to the girl’s -side and laying her hand gently on her -shoulder, ‘Jenny, dear love, wake up; -there’s a dear! Papa wants to see you -before he goes into the city.’</p> - -<p>‘Eh! what?’ said the girl drowsily, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -she turned away, ‘it’s not time to get up -yet. I’m so sleepy.’</p> - -<p>‘But, Jenny, love, try and rouse yourself,’ -repeated her mother, rather tremblingly, -‘your father wants you, dear. He won’t -keep you long. You need only put on a -tea-gown and can come back and finish -your toilet afterwards. Come Jenny, make -an effort, love, for papa won’t be denied.’</p> - -<p>The girl opened her big hazel eyes then, -and stared stupidly at her aunt and mother.</p> - -<p>‘You here, mamma!’ she ejaculated, -‘and Aunt Clem! What on earth is the -matter? Is the house on fire?’</p> - -<p>‘No! no! dear, of course not, but papa -wants to speak to you for a minute before -he leaves home.’</p> - -<p>‘Then he must wait till he comes back,’ -replied Jenny, as she closed her eyes again, -‘for I’m a great deal too sleepy to see anyone. -Go away, do! mamma, and leave -me alone. It’s a shame to go waking me -in this way, when you know I was dancing -up to three o’clock this morning.’</p> - -<p>‘I know, darling, I know!’ said Mrs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -Crampton, almost weeping, ‘and I wouldn’t -have done it for the world, only papa insisted -on it, and you know what he is when -he’s set on having his way. Jenny, my dear; -do try and rouse yourself a little, for papa -says if you don’t go down and see him, he -will come up here and pull you out of bed -himself.’</p> - -<p>At this intelligence, Miss Crampton did -see fit to open her eyes a little wider, and -sit up in bed. Perhaps her conscience -warned her what this unusual severity -on the part of her father might portend, -but she looked exceedingly cross as she -did so.</p> - -<p>‘I never heard such nonsense in all my -life,’ she exclaimed, ‘what can he have to -say to me, that will not keep till dinner time? -I can’t be down for half an hour, -at anyrate, so papa must wait my pleasure. -Where’s Ellen? She must come and help -me dress! My goodness me, Aunt Clem,’ -she broke off suddenly, as she caught sight -of that lady’s sympathetic features regarding -her wistfully from the foot of the bed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -‘don’t stand there goggling at me like a -stork on one leg, or you’ll drive me out of -my senses. Go and call Ellen, do! If -I’m to see papa, someone must dress me. -I don’t suppose he wants me to walk downstairs -in my night-dress, though he is in -such a hurry.’</p> - -<p>‘No! no! love, of course not!’ returned -her mother, hastily. ‘Clem! call Ellen, -and tell her Jenny is going to get up. -Now, darling! what can I do to help -you?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing,’ replied her daughter peevishly, -‘unless you will give papa a dose of -morphia to keep him quiet till I can dress -myself. What <i>is</i> all this mystery about? -Why can’t you say why the old gentleman -is so desirous of my company this morning. -He is not in the habit of dragging me out -of bed, after a ball, at this unearthly hour.’</p> - -<p>‘It is nearly twelve o’clock, my dear!’ -said Mrs Crampton evasively.</p> - -<p>‘What of that? I ordered my trap to -be round at four this afternoon, and told -Ellen particularly that she was not to come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -near me till I rang. You know the -Bouchers’ dance is on to-night, and a nice -figure I shall look at it if I do not have -my sleep out first.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, dear,’ replied her mother, soothingly, -‘you can come to bed again, if you -think fit, in the afternoon. You know <i>I</i> -wouldn’t have disturbed you for all the -world, but gentlemen are not always so -considerate. And your father insisted -upon my doing so, so what could I say?’</p> - -<p>‘What’s the row about?’ repeated Jenny, -as her maid began to brush out and twist -up her superabundant hair.</p> - -<p>But Mrs Crampton was too discreet to -say all she knew before a servant.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! it’s nothing particular, my love, -and your father had best tell you himself. -You needn’t be afraid, he loves you too -dearly ever to scold you, whatever you -may do or say.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! I’m not afraid of the old man!’ -rejoined the young lady; ‘only he’d better -not go too far with me. I can guess what -all the fuss is about, mamma, and I’ve<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> -got a will of my own, as well as he has. -If papa is going to lecture me about Mr—’</p> - -<p>‘Now, dear, don’t mention any names,’ -interposed Mrs Crampton quickly, ‘for it -may only lead to mischief. Your papa -must tell you his own business, and I’m -sure you’ll do all in your power to fall in -with his wishes.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m not so sure of that,’ replied the -young lady, with a <i>moue</i>. ‘Here, Ellen, -give me my blue tea-gown! My hair will -do very well, for I shall most likely be in -bed again in half an hour. Go down, -whilst I’m with Mr Crampton, and fetch -me some chocolate and a piece of toast, -and let it be ready when I come back. -Now! mamma, we’ll go and beard the -old lion in his den.’</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Jenny looked, if possible, lovelier than -usual as she tripped downstairs beside her -mother and her aunt. Her face was still -flushed from sleep, and her hair had been -twisted up anyhow, whilst the pale blue -gown she wore accorded well with her -rose-leaf complexion. Mrs Crampton and -Miss Bostock accompanied her in trembling -dread of the coming encounter, but -the girl herself was perfectly confident and -fearless. As they reached the door of -the library, where her father awaited her, -she caught sight of Aunt Clem’s visage -and burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, dear!’ she cried, ‘Aunt Clem, if -you don’t put on some other kind of face, -you’ll kill me! When you assume that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -lugubrious expression, you look so like a -cow that I always expect to hear you -low.’</p> - -<p>‘Dearest child! that is not kind,’ remarked -her mother, with mild reproof.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! never mind, it doesn’t signify, -I am sure dear Jenny doesn’t mean it,’ -interposed Aunt Clem, who had, nevertheless, -winced under the sarcasm.</p> - -<p>‘I did mean it, though,’ cried Jenny -boldly; ‘one would think I was going to -be hanged to see your long faces. Well, -papa!’ she continued, as they entered the -presence of Mr Crampton, ‘and what may -you have to say to me this morning? -You’ll have to pay for dragging me out of -my bed in this outrageous manner, you -know, and I sha’n’t be pacified until you -buy me that little Arab mare of Mr -Winchers’. Is it a bargain?’</p> - -<p>She looked so saucy and so pretty as -she said this, and perched herself on her -father’s knee, that Mr Crampton, in his -pride and affection, was very nearly granting -her request without further protest.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -But the remembrance of the Popish -admirer intruded itself just in time to prevent -the folly. Nevertheless, he kissed -his daughter’s blooming cheek, and -said,—</p> - -<p>‘If you will be a good girl, and do -exactly as I tell you, you shall have a -dozen Arab mares if they will please -you, Jenny.’</p> - -<p>‘All right, old gentleman! that’s a -bargain. Now for the conditions.’</p> - -<p>‘But we must speak seriously, my dear, -for I am quite in earnest in this matter. -You have been encouraging a young man -to come about here, Jenny, of whose acquaintanceship -you know I do not approve—I -mean Mr Frederick Walcheren. Now, -I must have a stop put to it at once. He -never comes here again, nor will I allow -you to meet him out of the house, unless -it should be by accident, nor to dance with -him if you do meet him. I hope you -understand me plainly. I will not permit -you to know any of the Walcherens from -this time forward. You must entirely drop<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> -them. Nor shall your mother ask them to -my house. And I shall never remove this -prohibition from you—<i>never</i>!’</p> - -<p>‘Anything more?’ asked Jenny, shortly.</p> - -<p>A close observer might have seen and -interpreted the change in her countenance -as she listened to her father’s mandate. -Into the light hazel eyes had crept a much -darker shade, and the full lips had pouted -till they had become sullen. But all she -said was ‘Anything more?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know that, as your father, I -am in any way called upon to give you my -reasons, my dear, but, since you seem to -ask for them, I will. You appear to me to -have shown a marked preference for Mr -Frederick Walcheren’s society, and, as it -would be impossible for you to marry him, -it is best the affair should be put an end to -at once.’</p> - -<p>‘He has plenty of money,’ argued the -young lady.</p> - -<p>‘I am aware of that, and the uses he -has hitherto put his money to. He is a -gambler and a loose liver. But that is not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -the chief objection to him in my eyes. -His vices might be reformed, but not his -religion. Young creatures like yourself do -not think of such things, but the Walcherens -are all Roman Catholics, and that -fact puts an insuperable barrier between -them and us. I would never, under any -circumstances, give my consent to your -marriage with a Papist. I would rather -see you in your grave, Jenny, and I cannot -say more than that. If you have entertained -any such idea, you must dismiss it -from your mind at once. And in order -that there may be no fear of such a thing—in -order to secure your happiness and -safety, I insist upon your giving up the -acquaintanceship of this young man altogether. -You must not ask him to the -house again, and, if he calls, your mother -will order the servant to say that she is -not at home. If you meet him out, you -have my strict commands not to dance -with him, or to talk more than the merest -politeness necessitates. If, notwithstanding -these precautions, I find Mr Walcheren<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> -is obstinately bent on thrusting himself -where he is not welcome, I shall take the -law into my own hands, by carrying you -away from Hampstead to some place where -it is impossible you can meet him. Don’t -think me harsh, Jenny, for, God knows, -that is the last thing I wish to be towards -you, but I have spoken to you on this subject -several times before, and I find you -have taken no heed, so you force me to -speak more plainly. Do you quite understand -me now?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, I understand,’ said the girl -sullenly.</p> - -<p>‘And you promise obedience?’</p> - -<p>‘How can I do otherwise than obey?’ -she broke out passionately. ‘The house -is yours, and you can do as you choose -with it and those who enter it. And -Frederick Walcheren is not a man to -thrust his company where it is not wanted. -All these accusations you bring against -him—what authority have you for them? -He is to be condemned unheard, and his -religion is brought against him as a crime.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -If that is what you call Christian, I’d rather -be a Jew any day.’</p> - -<p>The tone she had adopted made the old -man angry. He was devotedly fond and -proud of her, but he had an obstinate -temper, and would not brook opposition -to his wishes.</p> - -<p>‘Now, now, that’s enough!’ he answered. -‘My word is law here, and I will stand no -arguments about the matter. I don’t approve -of the man—that is sufficient! -Neither shall my daughter know him. -As for condemning him unheard, that is -all rubbish. Hindes knows his character -as well as I do. He says—’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! then it is to Mr Hindes I owe this -unpleasant interview,’ cried Jenny. ‘What -business has he to poke his nose into my -affairs? He’s always meddling in some -way or another. Mr Hindes made you -sell my beautiful hunter, because he said -it was not safe for me to ride; and Mr -Hindes prevented my accepting Lady -Makewell’s invitation to the Castle, on -account of some absurd rumours he had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> -heard of her former life. But, if Mr -Hindes thinks he is to be the judge of all -my actions and the ruler of my destinies, -he is very much mistaken, and so I will let -him know before he is many days older. -I won’t have any man interfering with me -in this way, and turning my own parents -against me.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t be a fool!’ exclaimed Mr Crampton, -roughly. ‘Hindes is the best friend -you have—that any of us have—and it -would be a bad day for the firm and the -family, that saw our interests divided. I -mentioned him as an authority for the sort -of life Mr Frederick Walcheren lives, but, -far from setting me against you, he has stood -up for your good sense and filial obedience -all through the discussion of this unfortunate -affair. It is I alone—your father—who -has come to the conclusion to cut Mr Walcheren’s -acquaintance, and now I demand -your obedience to my commands. Once -and for all, your implicit obedience. Do -you promise it me?’</p> - -<p>‘I have no alternative!’ said Jenny.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<p>‘All the same, I must have your promise -given here, before your mother and your -aunt.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well, then, I promise!’ replied the -girl after a pause.</p> - -<p>‘That is all I require,’ said the old man; -‘and now, I suppose, I can go about my -business. But remember! if I ever catch -you trying to outwit me by any d—d -subterfuges, I will take you away from -Hampstead, and you shall never see it -again whilst that man is in it.’</p> - -<p>He turned then, as if to leave the room, -but, perceiving that both his wife and her -sister were in tears, he thought he might -have spoken too harshly to this child whom -he so dearly loved, and came back again -for a moment.</p> - -<p>‘Kiss me, Jenny,’ he said; ‘I’m not angry -with you, my girl, though I may have -seemed so, but it’s your happiness I have at -heart and not my own. There! there!’ with -a sounding kiss on her cheek, ‘you won’t -fret about the matter, will you? and we’ll -ride over together to Winchers’ to-morrow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -and secure the little mare you’ve set your -heart on. God bless you, my dear!’ and, -with another kiss, he left them to themselves.</p> - -<p>Jenny stood for a minute silent and -motionless, then walked quickly towards -the door, as if to return to her own room.</p> - -<p>‘Jenny, my darling,’ pleaded her mother, -‘you see the force of your dear father’s -argument, don’t you?’</p> - -<p>She went towards the girl as she spoke, -and would have wound her arms about her, -but Jenny pushed her impatiently aside.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t bother me, mamma,’ she said, -‘you know how I hate a fuss. All this -worry is mostly your fault, you might have -prevented it if you had chosen.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! Jenny, my dear, how?’</p> - -<p>‘Why, do you suppose I don’t know it -has come of some repetition of yours or -Aunt Clem’s? How should papa, who is -all day in the city, and never goes with us -anywhere in the evenings, have heard that -I danced more with Fred Walcheren than -any other man, unless you had told him?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> -And I think it is beastly mean of you, too! -Why can’t I have my pleasure the same as -other girls? I conclude you and papa -made love enough to each other when you -were young, and yet you grudge me a -choice in the matter. I’m only to dance, and -talk, and be agreeable with such people -as you select for me. It’s bitterly unfair.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, no, darling, don’t say that! Your -dear father is only desirous of one thing, -to promote your welfare. And Mr Walcheren -is very wild, Jenny. He would not -make you a good husband. Everybody -says so.’</p> - -<p>‘And so my happiness is to be sacrificed -because “everybody” chooses to tell lies -of the man I like, and papa and you choose -to believe them. Well! I sha’n’t forget it -in a hurry, I can tell you, mamma. And -now, please let me go to my room in peace. -I suppose I may claim a right to so much -indulgence of my own wishes.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear girl, when have any of your -wishes been ungratified, unless they were -likely to prove hurtful to yourself. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -should take a knife away from a baby, my -darling, however much it cried for it, for -fear it should cut itself.’</p> - -<p>‘Thank you for comparing me to a baby, -mamma, but I think you will find I am not -quite such a child as you imagine. Anyway, -I am woman enough to wish to be -left alone to think over this matter by -myself.’</p> - -<p>And, without waiting for an answer, -Jenny ran up the staircase, and locked -herself into her bedroom.</p> - -<p>The two ladies downstairs were left in -a very uncomfortable condition.</p> - -<p>‘I hope,’ remarked Mrs Crampton to -her sister, ‘I hope dear papa did not go -too far in what he said. Jenny is so high-spirited -and quick-tempered, that she might -be tempted to do something wilful just -because she was crossed. And if she -dances with Mr Walcheren at the Bouchers’ -to-night, I don’t know what her papa will -say.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, she would never dare to do so, -surely,’ replied Aunt Clem; ‘she would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -never fly in John’s face in that manner! -She is a little fond of her own way sometimes, -I admit, but she has a good heart, -poor darling, and says far more than she -means. And John is right, Emma. Mr -Walcheren is a very wild young man, and -it would never do for our Jenny to marry -him.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course, John is right,’ acquiesced the -wife; ‘but I wish Jenny could see it in the -same light. However, I will take care not -to let her out of my sight this evening, and -then it will be impossible for Mr Walcheren -to get speech of her, without my overhearing -what he may say.’</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Jenny, having reached the -sanctuary of her own room, drank off her -chocolate hastily, and dismissed her maid -who was in attendance.</p> - -<p>‘Is my bath ready, Ellen?’ she inquired; -‘that is right. Well! you can go now and -I will ring when I am ready to dress. -Tell Brunell that I will have the Ralli cart -at one.’</p> - -<p>‘Before luncheon, miss?’ said the maid.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>‘At one o’clock, sharp! And don’t go -out of the way; I shall want you in ten -minutes.’</p> - -<p>She turned the key of her door on the -inside as the maid disappeared, and, sitting -down before her writing-table, drew out -pen and paper, and commenced to write -a letter, which ran as follows:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘<span class="smcap">Darling</span>,—There has been a row here -this morning, and papa has forbidden me -ever to speak to you again. What are we -to do? I shall be at the Bouchers’ to-night, -without fail. I must not dance with you, -but, if you will be in the picture gallery -after the fourth dance, I will contrive to -speak to you. Oh, Fred, where is all this -going to end? They shall never make me -give you up, if you remain of the same -mind, but open communication with you -seems almost impossible. I can’t write -any more, my head and my heart are both -in a whirl. Ever your loving</p> - -<p> -<span class="smcap">Jenny</span>.’<br> -</p> -</div> - -<p>She sealed this letter, and directed it to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -Frederick Walcheren, Esq., 308 Nevern -Mansions, Earl’s Court, London, and placed -it on one side. Her next concern was to -see in what condition this unpleasant -excitement had left her. But she found -no reason to complain.</p> - -<p>The exercise of her temper had made -her cheeks rosier, and lent an extra brightness -to her eyes. She was glad of this—glad -that she had not given way to the -weakness of tears, and swelled up her eyelids -and made her face look puffy. She -might meet Frederick during her drive. -He spent most of his spare time in wandering -about Hampstead in the hopes of -meeting her. But she seldom drove out -until the afternoon. Still, there was just -the chance of a <i>rencontre</i> with her lover, -and for that chance Jenny would have -taken more trouble than this.</p> - -<p>When she came downstairs again, an -hour later, dressed in a tailor-made suit of -light fawn tweed, with her jaunty little felt -hat on her head, and her hands in white -doeskin driving-gloves, holding a handsome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> -ivory-handled whip, few people -would have guessed the state of excitement -she was still in, she looked so fresh and -lovely and smiling. In the hall she encountered -her mother, who had heard the -wheels of the Ralli cart draw up to the -door.</p> - -<p>‘Out so early, my darling?’ Mrs Crampton -said, kindly; ‘where are you going -to?’</p> - -<p>‘For a drive,’ answered the girl curtly.</p> - -<p>‘But doesn’t it look a little like rain,’ -continued her mother timidly, for she was -half afraid of her idol, particularly when -the idol was put out.</p> - -<p>‘I don’t care if it does,’ replied Jenny, -in the same tone; ‘I’m not made of sugar.’</p> - -<p>‘But take an umbrella, darling,’ said her -mother, anxiously, ‘and let Brunell hold it -over you, if it should be wet.’</p> - -<p>But Miss Crampton rejected all her -suggestions with scorn.</p> - -<p>‘If it thunders and lightens, and I get -wet through and go into a consumption, so -much the better,’ she exclaimed impatiently.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -‘You and papa between you have contrived -to make me so supremely miserable, that I -don’t care what happens to me! In fact, -the sooner I’m dead the better; and I’ve a -good mind to take a dose of prussic acid -and end it at once.’</p> - -<p>This is a very usual threat of selfish and -ill-tempered people, particularly if they -have loving and anxious hearts to deal -with. To Mrs Crampton, to whom the -girl was everything in the world, Jenny’s -words seem full of bitter portent.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! my darling! my darling!’ she exclaimed, -in a voice of the deepest concern, -‘don’t say such terrible things, even in jest, -for Heaven’s sake! You will break my -heart, Jenny, and your poor father would -go mad if he heard you speak in such an -awful way. Why! we would cut off our -right hands to save you a moment’s -trouble.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes! it looks like it, doesn’t it?’ said -the young lady, sarcastically.</p> - -<p>‘My dearest, don’t discuss the subject -again. Wait a little and you will see it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> -perhaps in a different light. My head -aches so, Jenny, I am not fit to argue it -with you, and you have been upset as well. -Go for a nice drive, and the fresh air will -make your head clearer. But be careful, -my love, and don’t do anything rash! I’m -half afraid of those cobs, Jenny, they’re -so fresh and spirited.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! you’re afraid of everything,’ replied -her daughter in a tone of contempt; ‘and -as for Aunt Clem, she’s alarmed at her own -shadow.’</p> - -<p>‘I was never brought up to horses -and dogs, as you have been, dear,’ -said Miss Bostock, who was standing -near.</p> - -<p>‘No; nor to anything, I should think,’ -replied her niece, as she prepared to get -into her Ralli cart. ‘I often think you and -mamma must have been born and reared on -a desert island, you seem so utterly ignorant -of the things most people do.’</p> - -<p>With which Miss Crampton gently -touched her steeds with the lash of her -whip, and they went prancing down the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> -drive as if they intended to bolt, whilst her -mother and aunt held their breath with -anxiety, lest the wilful driver should come -to any harm.</p> - -<p>Jenny drove at a smart pace through the -principal ways of Hampstead, whilst the -pedestrians whom she passed said to each -other ‘There goes the beautiful Miss -Crampton,’ and she overheard some of their -remarks and flushed with pleasure at the -notice she excited. For this young lady’s -besetting sin was an inordinate vanity of -her personal attractions, which she had -cultivated to the exclusion of all the Christian -graces. She was a specimen of that -most odious of all modern innovations, the -fast girl of the nineteenth century, and she -was vulgar in consequence, for all fast -women are vulgar, and obnoxious in the -eyes of everybody but their male admirers. -For when will men be ever sensible enough -to separate the value of personal beauty -and mental charm? Not while they have -eyes to see. Once touch their senses, and, -for the time their infatuation lasts, you cannot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -convince them but that the mind and -soul of their goddess equal her body in -charm. Frederick Walcheren was infatuated -with the beauty of this girl, and he -believed her disposition to be all that was -good and lovable as well. It appeared so -to him, for, whenever they met, Jenny was -in her best temper, and ready to be pleased -with everything. Had he even seen her, -as she had been on the present occasion, -rude and impertinent to her parents, cruelly -sarcastic to her meek and unoffending aunt, -and obstinately resolved upon having her -own way, he would still have taken her -part, declared her to be a suffering angel, -and her father and mother most unjust and -tyrannical towards her. Shakespeare never -wrote a greater truism than when he made -Rosalind declare that ‘Love is a madness,’ -a madness that blinds our vision, distorts -our judgment, and makes all things, not -only apparently, but actually, different from -what they are; when the rose-coloured spectacles -have been torn by circumstance from -our eyes, and we wonder we could ever<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> -have been such egregious fools as to think -that they were otherwise.</p> - -<p>Miss Crampton, then, with her heart on -fire and her soul up in arms, stopped at the -first pillar-box she passed, and bade Brunell -post the letter which she gave him, the -letter she had written in her bedroom and -which she knew would reach town before -Mr Walcheren left it to meet her at the -house of their mutual friends, the Bouchers.</p> - -<p>And as she flew over the highway, one -sentence kept revolving itself over and over -in her mind, and the burden of it was, ‘I -will never give him up, I will never give -him up.’</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When Miss Crampton’s letter reached -the hands of Mr Frederick Walcheren, -it was by the four o’clock post, and that -gentleman was lying on a couch in his -apartments in Nevern Mansions. He -was a handsome man of about thirty, -with dark eyes and hair, and classical -features, set in a pale, clear complexion. -He was clean shorn, except for a small, -soft moustache, and the possessor of a -tall, lithe figure. He had an ample fortune, -having inherited about two thousand -a year from an old Catholic godfather, -who died when Frederick was quite an -infant, and who had expressed a wish in -his will that his godson and heir should -enter the church, or, at all events, benefit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> -the church by founding some religious -institution at his own death, with the fortune -he left in his charge. But the old -gentleman could hardly have chosen a -worse guardian of his property. No embargo -had been laid on the young man -spending his money as he chose, and his -choice was to spend it on himself and the -companions whom he delighted to honour. -His little flat in Earl’s Court was only a -<i>pied à terre</i>. His home may have been -said to exist at Epsom, Goodwood, Newmarket, -or any one of the other race-courses -in England. He was also to -be met periodically at Monte Carlo or -Paris. Occasionally he would take a -fancy to run over to New York or -San Francisco, but, wherever he pitched -his tent, one might be sure there were -plenty of opportunities for gambling and -speculation. Not but what Frederick -Walcheren was a perfectly honourable -man; but he could not live (or he -thought he could not live) without excitement -of some sort, and he loved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -the uncertainty and risk of betting and -play.</p> - -<p>His money and his good looks had -rendered him an easy prey to the -harpies of the other sex, and had -landed him into one or two scrapes -with more respectable women. His -cousin, Philip, had often had to be -the go-between and peacemaker with -sundry fair damsels, who were violently -bent on a breach of promise case, or -a horse-whipping through means of their -next friend.</p> - -<p>Mr Philip Walcheren was quite a different -sort of character from his cousin. -Married, and the father of a family, a -staunch Catholic, steady and prosperous -in his business as a solicitor, he was -almost a pattern man, and Frederick’s -goings-on were a marvel and a misery -to him. He and his director, Father -Tasker, were constantly talking over the -other man, and wondering by what means -they could dissuade him from his follies, -and induce him to lead a more sober<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> -life. But, as yet, their exhortations and -entreaties had been of no avail. Frederick -laughed at their cautions, and pooh-poohed -their predictions of a repentant -future. He meant to live his life, he -told them, and asked for no one’s pity -or advice. He was in reality, what Mr -Crampton and Henry Hindes had called -him, a dissolute and irreclaimable spendthrift, -and not fit to be the husband of -any girl.</p> - -<p>Still, he was pleasant and fascinating, -and the <i>beau sexe</i> spoilt him, to a woman. -As he lay indolently on his couch this -afternoon, turning Jenny’s letter over and -over in his hands, his thoughts were much -the same as hers had been, for of all the femininities -he had ever met, and trifled with, -she was the only one who had seriously -touched his heart. Women as handsome -as Jenny, and far more amiable, had been -ready, before now, to throw themselves at -his feet, but they had had no power to -move him. But for this petulant, spoilt, -and rather underbred, girl, he would have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -laid down his life. Who can account for -anomalies? Is love—such love as has -its origin in admiration—a spiritual passion, -or is it the force of two magnetisms that -attract each to each, beyond the power of -the individual to oppose? From the -strange choices we see made in this world, -it would seem so. Anyway, this is how -Frederick Walcheren felt for Jenny Crampton—that -he would die sooner than give -her up. She seemed, in the short time -they had known each other, to have -grown into his life—to have become part -of it, indeed—so that he could no longer -imagine living without her. He kept saying -to himself all the while, just as she had -done,—‘I will not give her up for any man -or woman upon earth. What do I care -about the old wool-stapler raving? Let -him rave. I will carry her off before his -very eyes. But she shall be mine; in fact, -she <i>is</i> mine in heart and soul, and I defy -the whole world to separate us.’</p> - -<p>And, just at that moment, there sounded -a double knock on his outer door, and his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -man appeared to usher in his cousin, -Philip Walcheren and Father Tasker.</p> - -<p>Frederick sprung to his feet. The instincts -of a born Catholic were still strong -in him, and, though he never went to confession -or mass, he always showed a proper -deference for the clergy. Added to which, -Father Tasker was an old friend of his -family.</p> - -<p>‘How are you, Father,’ he said, ‘I’m -glad to see you. Pray take the arm-chair. -Well, Philip! all right at home?’</p> - -<p>‘Quite right, thank you, Frederick,’ replied -his cousin; ‘I was on my way to have -a talk with you when I met Father Tasker, -so we came together.’</p> - -<p>‘I’m delighted to see you both,’ said -Frederick, ‘what can I give you? I know -that it is no use my offering the father a -brandy-and-soda, but, if you will not take -one, Philip, my man shall get some tea -ready in half a minute.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t think we have time for either,’ -replied Philip Walcheren. ‘I have only -about ten minutes to spare, and the Father<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -honours me with his company at dinner -to-night, so I think Marion will be disappointed -if I deprive her of her five-o’clock -tea gossip with him. She is, doubtless, -anxiously awaiting us now. But I felt I -could not pass another night without asking -you, Frederick, if a rumour which I have -heard concerning you is true.’</p> - -<p>‘What’s up now?’ demanded his cousin.</p> - -<p>‘I met young Fellows in the city this -afternoon, Mrs Bouchers’ brother, you -know, and he told me that it is commonly -said in Hampstead that you are engaged, or -about to be engaged, to Miss Crampton.’</p> - -<p>‘What of it?’ said Frederick carelessly.</p> - -<p>‘Surely it is not true! Surely, with your -antecedents, Frederick, you are not thinking -of marrying any respectable woman!’</p> - -<p>‘Would you prefer my marrying a disreputable -one, then, Philip?’</p> - -<p>‘Most certainly not! What I mean is, -that, under the circumstances, you have no -right to marry at all. How can you go up -to God’s holy altar with any woman, whilst -that unfortunate girl down at Luton is even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -now expiating the awful sin you led her -into?’</p> - -<p>‘Of course, it is quite impossible that it -was she who led me instead of the other -way?’ said Frederick, interrogatively.</p> - -<p>‘Whosoever fault it may have been in -the first instance, you know that you are -responsible now.’</p> - -<p>‘And I am quite ready to meet my responsibilities. -Do you want me to marry -the straw-plaiter down at Luton?’</p> - -<p>‘No, no! I want you to do nothing but -alter your mode of living, Frederick, and -try and be a decent member of society. -It is terrible to think how you go on, without -care for yourself or others, without a -thought of God, or the future that lies -before you. If poor Sir Frederick Ascher -had only foreseen the uses his money -would have been put to, he would -have thought twice before he left it -to you.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes! but, luckily for me, he didn’t foresee, -so I can do as I like about it. Has -Father Tasker a lecture in store for me as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> -well?’ inquired Frederick, turning to the -priest.</p> - -<p>‘No! my son, we are not in the confessional, -where I could wish we met -oftener; but I would like to remind you -that, although your late godfather made no -actual conditions regarding the expenditure -of the fortune he left you, yet his -wishes, that it should be devoted to the -church, were so strongly expressed, as -almost to amount to a demand, and I -cannot believe that any blessing will -follow a different disposition of it.’</p> - -<p>‘I have confessed to no intention of -marrying, remember, but should I ever do -so, my wife will be my church, and I shall -settle my money upon her.’</p> - -<p>But this was a blasphemy that neither -Philip Walcheren nor the priest could -pass over in silence.</p> - -<p>‘Be careful, my son, be careful,’ cried -the one, ‘lest the curse of Heaven, and the -church you despise, are both provoked -against you.’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot believe, Frederick, that you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -seriously mean what you say,’ exclaimed -his cousin. ‘The money is only yours -for your lifetime, and, if you do not dedicate -it to the holy church at your death, -some fearful calamity will surely overtake -you, or those to whom you wrongfully -give it.’</p> - -<p>‘Nonsense!’ replied Frederick; ‘I suppose -you both mean well, but I would -rather you understood me at once. As -matters stand at present, I have not the -slightest intention of leaving my money to -the church. My godfather—peace to his -ashes!—left it to me, and I recognise but -one authority in the matter, and that is the -law, which is on my side. I wonder, by -the way, Philip, that you stick up so badly -for the stability of the profession by which -you live!’</p> - -<p>‘Every consideration must give way to -the claims of the church, Frederick!’</p> - -<p>‘Well, I don’t agree with you. I think -Mother Church has feathered her own nest -pretty well, considering her claims to -humility and poverty. In my idea, my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -own nest will have the prior claim on my -indulgence!’</p> - -<p>‘So you are really contemplating matrimony, -Frederick,’ said Philip. ‘I wonder -you can dare to enter a church under the -circumstances, lest the walls and roof should -fall in upon you.’</p> - -<p>‘Perhaps I shall be married in a registrar’s -office,’ responded Frederick lightly; -but the jest was so ill-timed that neither of -his hearers commented upon it.</p> - -<p>‘With the fact of that misguided female -down at Luton, you are about to commit a -great sacrilege, my son, in taking the -sacrament of matrimony on yourself!’ remarked -Father Tasker.</p> - -<p>‘Well, really, Father, I must say you and -Philip are both rather hard on me! You -have been reproaching me for my loose -style of living for years past, and begging -me to reform, and now, when you hear a -rumour—merely a rumour, remember—that -I’m about to forsake the devil and all -his ways, and become a steady married -man, like my good cousin here, you attack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -me as if I had just formed a fresh <i>liaison</i> -instead. Why shouldn’t I marry like a -good boy, as well as Philip, who is, I -know, a pattern of propriety. Why -shouldn’t I walk to mass every Sunday -morning, with a little boy by one hand and -a little girl by the other? It doesn’t seem -as if I could please you anyway.’</p> - -<p>‘You mistake both me and your cousin, -my son,’ replied the priest. ‘It is not -that we are not most anxious to see you -turn over a new leaf and lead a pure life, -but marriage is assuredly a condition of -great temptation for a man situated as -you are. It will bring cares and expenses -with it, and your mind will be filled with -the thought of providing for the future -of your family. You have been brought -up to no profession, for your sainted -mother had no idea that you would be -anything but a priest, and that your godfather’s -fortune would go as he wished it -should do, to our holy church. But since -you elected otherwise, there is but one -honest course for you to pursue, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -is, to remain single, and preserve your -money intact for the purpose for which -your godfather left it to you. Marriage -will interfere with this, therefore marriage -is not for you!’</p> - -<p>At this juncture Frederick’s temper got -the better of his judgment.</p> - -<p>‘Then I’m d—d if the church shall have -the money,’ he exclaimed loudly; ‘all your -advice, and precepts, and exhortations to a -purer life count for nothing; they are -only made so you may hear yourselves -talk, and plume yourselves with the idea of -how much better men you are than myself. -But this matter is in my own jurisdiction, -thank goodness, and I shall do exactly as -I choose about it. I shall marry, or remain -single, as pleases me, but, whatever I may -do, the church doesn’t get my money, so -you may put that thought out of your -heads at once. I’ll leave it to the Salvation -Army, or the Home for Lost Dogs, -first.’</p> - -<p>He had thrown himself into a passion -by this time, and he walked quickly up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> -and down his little room in order to cool -his temper. Philip Walcheren looked as -if he expected the heavens to open and -strike his cousin dead for the utterance -of such blasphemy, and the priest rose and -prepared to shake the dust of those apartments -off his feet.</p> - -<p>‘Mark my words,’ he said solemnly, as -he turned to leave the room, ‘God will -not be mocked, Frederick Walcheren. He -knows all our hearts, and He will avenge -himself. Good-morning.’</p> - -<p>And with that Father Tasker disappeared.</p> - -<p>‘For shame!’ cried Philip, as he prepared -to follow him, ‘for shame, Frederick. -You may have law on your side, -but you have neither right nor conscience. -You have not told me whether the rumour -I mentioned is true or false, but, if it is -true, and you have any such intention in -your head, pause, I beseech you, before -you carry it into effect, or some fearful -calamity will follow it. You have defied -our holy church, and God will defend her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -rights. I shall not come again until you -send for me.’</p> - -<p>And in another moment the room was -clear.</p> - -<p>‘Here, Watson,’ called Frederick to his -man, ‘bring me a whisky-and-soda. I -declare,’ he continued to himself, ‘if their -twaddle has not made me quite uncomfortable. -What on earth did that old fool, my -godfather, mean by not making his will -decisive one way or the other? <i>I</i> a -priest, indeed! No. I mean to live a -rather jollier life than that comes to. And -there is only one other decent alternative, -to marry the girl I love, and rear a family -for the benefit of the State. And how -can I do that without money? It is -ridiculous to think of.’</p> - -<p>Still, with the superstitious ideas which -the Catholic religion infuses in all her -followers, with the childish inbred fear -of the priestly power to save or damn, -with the fear of purgatory and a fiery hell, -and becoming an outcast from salvation -for ever, Frederick Walcheren did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -feel quite comfortable, though he tried -to laugh the feeling off, and was as -resolute as before, that no power in -heaven or earth should separate him -from Jenny Crampton.</p> - -<p>‘They are against us on every side,’ he -thought, ‘but that fact will only make me -the more determined to have her. My -beautiful darling! The most beautiful -woman, in my eyes, that I have ever met. -Why, Father Tasker himself couldn’t resist -her, if she stood on one side and hell on -the other. What time is it, Watson? Six-thirty? -By Jove! if I don’t hurry up I -shall get no dinner before I start for the -Bouchers’.’</p> - -<p>‘Going to Hampstead again to-night, -sir?’ asked Watson, as he laid out his -master’s dress clothes upon the bed.</p> - -<p>How well our servants know where we -go, and who we go to see, and what we do -it for.</p> - -<p>‘Yes,’ replied Frederick, ‘to Mrs -Bouchers’ dance. You needn’t sit up for -me, Watson, for I shall be very late.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -Order the brougham to call for me at -Simpson’s at nine o’clock. I shall go on -straight from there.’</p> - -<p>He hurried into his dress clothes, for he -was determined that nothing should make -him late that night, for fear he should miss -the interview in the picture gallery after -the fourth dance.</p> - -<p>The picture gallery at the Bouchers’ was -very seldom entered by any of their dancing -guests, being some way removed from -the ballroom, but both Jenny and Mr Walcheren, -being intimate friends at the house, -knew it well.</p> - -<p>Frederick thought rightly that, since a -prohibition had gone forth against his -dancing with the girl of his heart, it would -be more prudent if he did not put in an -appearance to the ballroom till after he -had held the interview with Jenny. So, -when he presented himself at the house, -between nine and ten o’clock, and had -divested himself of his crush hat and -overcoat, he peeped into the dancing -room to see how far the evening had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -advanced. The number two had just -been placed above the bandstand, so he -concluded he had at least half an hour -to wait before Jenny could join him, -and turned away again to seek the solitude -of the picture gallery until the time -of meeting had arrived.</p> - -<p>But he reckoned without his host. -Henry Hindes, who had been one of -the earliest arrivals, and on the express -look-out for Walcheren, spied him as -soon as he looked into the room, and, -rising quietly, followed him out. So, as -soon as Frederick had reached the picture -gallery, he heard a step in his rear, -and, turning with annoyance to see who -had discovered the retreat besides himself, -met the outstretched hand and smiling -glance of Mr Hindes. Mr Walcheren -could not fail to return his civilities, but -he was infinitely vexed. Of all the -people he knew, he would rather have -encountered anyone than Mr Hindes.</p> - -<p>Not only because he was so intimately -connected with the Cramptons, and, undoubtedly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> -knew most of the family -secrets, but also because Frederick had -conceived an unaccountable aversion for -him. He did not know <i>why</i> himself. -Henry Hindes had always been courteous -and polite to him, far more so, indeed, -than Mr Crampton, who invariably -treated a Roman Catholic as if his religion -were his own fault, and he was -sinning every day that he didn’t change -it. Hindes, on the contrary, had no -scruples on the score of difference of -faith, and no right to object to the -young man because he courted Jenny -Crampton. He had always spoken and -behaved to him as one gentleman should -to another, and yet Walcheren hated -him. Now, as he accepted his hand -and asked after his well-doing, he would -have liked to strike him across his -smooth, smiling face instead. Mr Hindes, -having no idea that the young man was -waiting to see Miss Crampton, had -thought this would be an excellent opportunity -for him to fulfil the promise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -made to his partner, and let Mr Walcheren -know how utterly hopeless his -suit was.</p> - -<p>‘How are you, Walcheren?’ he said, -cordially, as he came up with him. -‘You don’t mean to tell me you are -going to eschew dancing to-night, when -there are so many pretty girls doing -“wallflowers”? I saw you look into the -ballroom and disappear again, and wondered -if you had found your way to a -buffet and a whisky-and-soda. I shouldn’t -mind following you if you have, for the -night is very warm and I am very -thirsty.’</p> - -<p>‘No, I had no such intention,’ answered -Walcheren, in a tone of annoyance. ‘I -fancy it is rather too early for that game. -I came in here because I have a slight -headache, and thought the cool and quiet -might charm it away before I encountered -the heat and glare of the ballroom.’</p> - -<p>‘To be sure, and I daresay it will. This -is a charming place, though one cannot see -much of the pictures by night. It is in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -semi-darkness. I do not suppose the -Bouchers intend their guests to use it on -such an occasion as this, or they would have -it better lighted.’</p> - -<p>‘Perhaps not,’ replied Walcheren. ‘But -I am an old friend of the family, and -consider myself privileged to do as I -like.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! I am not finding fault with your -decision, my dear fellow; on the contrary, -I am very glad of the opportunity of a -few words in private with you. It is not -often that my wife can drag me out to a -dance, and, to tell you the honest truth, I -came here this evening expressly to see -you.’</p> - -<p>‘To see <i>me</i>?’ echoed Walcheren in -astonishment. ‘Why, what on earth can -you have to say to me?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing on my account, my dear friend, -unless it were to tell you (what I hope you -know) that I have always been pleased to -welcome you to my house, and always -shall be. But I am, as I think you are -aware, a very intimate friend of Mr and Mrs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -Crampton, who were, indeed, the intimate -friends also of my father before me, and -who have known me almost from a -child.’</p> - -<p>‘I know it,’ replied Frederick. ‘What -of it?’</p> - -<p>‘Mr Crampton sent for me before ten -o’clock this morning, and I found him in -the greatest distress. His wife had -intercepted a letter from you to Miss -Crampton, and the contents had terribly -upset him.’</p> - -<p>‘Passing over the fact that I consider -it a breach of honour to pry into the -private correspondence of anybody, I am -not aware that there was anything in the -letter alluded to that was calculated to -upset Mr Crampton,’ said Frederick.</p> - -<p>‘I don’t sanction the proceeding, my -dear Walcheren; I am only telling you -the facts. The old gentleman was more -than upset; he was terribly angry, and he -made his daughter give him a solemn -promise not to see (of her own free will), or -speak, or write to you again.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> - -<p>‘And pray, may I ask,’ cried Frederick -Walcheren in a sudden fury, ‘what business -it is of yours, Mr Hindes, to mention -the subject to me?’</p> - -<p>‘None at all, but I owe it to the entreaty -of my friends. Both Mr and Mrs Crampton -have begged me to convey their wishes -to you. They have derived so much -pleasure from your society as an acquaintance, -and think so highly of your intentions -with regard to their daughter, that they -dreaded the task of telling you personally, -that they can never give their sanction to -a marriage between you.’</p> - -<p>‘Perhaps, as they told you so much, they -were good enough to add their reasons for -so extraordinary a decision,’ exclaimed -Walcheren, in a tone of sarcasm.</p> - -<p>‘Certainly they did, and it is one with -which you cannot find serious fault. The -objection is your religion. Mr Crampton -will never allow his daughter to inter-marry -with a Catholic, and his decision is irrevocable. -Since your feelings for Miss Crampton -cannot have gone beyond admiration,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -considering the short time you have known -her, he thought it best you should hear his -decision at once, before any mischief is done -on either side.’</p> - -<p>‘And Miss Crampton’s feelings? Are -they not to be taken into consideration -also?’</p> - -<p>‘Most certainly! There is nothing on -earth Mr Crampton cares for so much as -his only child! She is his heiress, as doubtless -you know, but he will leave her nothing -if she marries against his wishes. He -is very obstinate when thwarted, and very -unrelenting. And Miss Crampton would -hardly be so foolish as to give up her -fortune, as well as her parents, at one -blow. Under these circumstances, I hope -you will not take offence, my dear Walcheren, -if I ask you, in his name, to relinquish -your acquaintanceship with Miss -Crampton, and to leave off visiting at the -house. It is an unpleasant task my friends -have set me, but I have done it for their -sakes, and without any ulterior feeling -against yourself. I have not a daughter<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -old enough to aspire to your hand,’ said -Henry Hindes, smiling, ‘but if I had, I -am not sure that I should deliver such a -message to you on my own account!’</p> - -<p>But Frederick Walcheren took no notice -of this little sop for Cerberus.</p> - -<p>‘Have the Cramptons any other objection -to me besides that of my religion?’ -he asked presently.</p> - -<p>‘Well! my dear fellow,’ replied Henry -Hindes, dubiously, ‘rumours have been -conveyed to them of your life having been -a little fast, not more than that of other -men of the world, I daresay, but these old -people do not regard such matters with -the same eyes that you and I should do. -They have only mixed in a certain society, -you see, and know little of the sayings -and doings of fashionable men and women. -They have very strict notions concerning -propriety, and you cannot shake their -opinions on the subject. But the real -objection is to your religion. <i>That</i> is -insurmountable! They will never overlook -it.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> - -<p>‘It is most unfair,’ exclaimed Frederick; -‘how is a man to help what his parents -chose to make him? Besides, I have no -religion at all! I believe in nothing, not a -God, nor a Hereafter, nor a Heaven, nor -a Hell! Will that suit them better?’</p> - -<p>Mr Hindes laughed heartily at the idea.</p> - -<p>‘Pray don’t hint at such a thing, Walcheren,’ -he said, ‘or they would think you -were the old gentleman himself! But we -must really talk seriously about this matter. -Mr Crampton is obdurate, and will remain -so. He declares that unless you will give -your promise not to interfere with his -daughter for the future, he will take her -away from Hampstead and out of your -reach, and keep her there until one of -you is married. I am sure you are too -much a gentleman and man of honour to -upset a whole family in that way, in order -to gratify your spite against them. For -it will not lead to your being readmitted -to the house, and Miss Crampton will be -strictly watched for the future.’</p> - -<p>Frederick Walcheren was thinking very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> -deeply on the matter, and his thoughts ran -thus, ‘I must overcome these people by -diplomacy. If I refuse to give this promise, -I shall be watched so closely that -I shall never get speech of Jenny again; -whereas, if I pretend to give in to their -demands, I shall throw them off their -guard. And the first thing I must do is to -get rid of this fellow!’ Aloud he said,—</p> - -<p>‘I am deeply grieved to hear of Mr -Crampton’s decision, but I see the wisdom -of it. Naturally, I admire Miss Crampton -very much, I wonder who doesn’t, but, to -tell truth, I anticipated a great deal of -opposition from my own family, if it ever -came to anything serious. They are as -staunch for the old faith as ever Mr -Crampton can be for his. Mixed marriages -are, after all, a mistake. I am glad, -therefore, that you have spoken so frankly -and openly to me, and I thank you for -it. Will you tell Mr Crampton that -I acquiesce in his decision, and willingly -give my promise not to intrude upon -his daughter, or himself, again. You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -have been a true friend to both of us, -Hindes. Accept my hand on it. And -now I think I will just go home without -running the risk of encountering <i>la belle</i> -Jenny. It will please Mr Crampton if he -hears that I have done so. And my headache -really unfits me for any violent exercise. -Good-night. Are you going back -to the ballroom? If so, we will walk to -the front of the house together.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes; I must go back to wait for my -wife, who is enjoying herself just like a -girl. I shall not say a word to Miss -Crampton of having seen you. It will be -better to let her think you have been prevented -attending the party.’</p> - -<p>‘Most certainly, and assure Mr Crampton -that he has nothing to fear from me. -Good-night again,’ and the two men parted -at the hall door, with a shake of the -hand.</p> - -<p>Frederick Walcheren went forth into -the darkness, whilst Henry Hindes, congratulating -himself on the diplomatic -manner in which he had executed his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -embassage, and the easy victory he had -gained over the enemy, re-entered the -ballroom, and took his seat there, with the -most perfect assurance that all danger was -over.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>But he did not quite know Frederick -Walcheren. Perhaps, also, he did not how -know cunning Love makes a man. The -younger man had assumed his overcoat -and hat, and gone forth at the hall door, -as if he had but one intention—to seek -the railway station, since his brougham -had returned to town. But, once clear of -the scrutiny of the servants, he skirted the -house on the left side, and passed from the -front garden to the back, which is easily -done in most suburban houses. This -brought him on to a large lawn, from which -the interior of the lighted ballroom might -be easily seen through the open windows. -Also, by turning the other corner of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -mansion, he could, by pressing his face -against the glass, see if the picture -gallery was occupied or not, though he -remained himself unseen. The windows -of this room were also thrown open, and -Frederick waited at one of them until he -saw the white-robed figure of Jenny -Crampton steal in, and glance furtively -around as if in search of him.</p> - -<p>‘Jenny, Jenny,’ he called softly, lest she -should be followed by the friend of the -family, ‘Jenny, my love, come here, to this -window.’</p> - -<p>‘What is this?’ cried the girl as she -perceived him; ‘why are you here? Is -anything wrong?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing is wrong whilst you love me,’ -said Frederick, ‘but we are watched, -darling, so I have pretended to go home -again. Have you the pluck to join me in -the garden? There are any number of -arbours here where we can talk undisturbed.’</p> - -<p>‘Pluck,’ cried Jenny, jumping on the -window sill, ‘of course I have. Pluck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> -enough to follow you over a precipice, if -you wish me to do so.’</p> - -<p>‘You angel. I will ask you to take no -more dangerous leap than into my arms. -But were you seen? Did anyone follow -you? We must not have an open row.’</p> - -<p>‘No, no one even saw me leave the -ballroom, for I was at the buffet with -Captain Rawson, when number five dance -struck up, so I told him to go and find his -partner and leave mine to seek me out. -And as soon as his back was turned I -slipped out here.’</p> - -<p>‘You dear girl! Give me your hand, -then, and jump out; there is a lovely seat -under that acacia tree—but what will you -say if your mother asks where you have -been?’</p> - -<p>‘That I have been strolling in the garden -with my partner. She will think it was -Captain Rawson; but she will not ask. -She is used to my vagaries, and lets me -do just as I choose.’</p> - -<p>‘But, darling, they won’t let you do that -any longer, I’m afraid. I’ve had a lecture<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> -as well as you, Jenny. Mr Hindes followed -me to the picture gallery just now, by your -father’s request, and made me promise I -would give up all pretensions to your hand, -and leave off visiting at your house.’</p> - -<p>‘And do you mean to keep your -promise?’ inquired the girl, pouting.</p> - -<p>‘Not unless you tell me to do so, -Jenny; I love you too much for that. -I only did it to prevent a row, for if Mr -Crampton carried his threat of taking you -away from Hampstead into execution, I -might find it very difficult to have any -communication with you again.’</p> - -<p>‘But what is the good of my staying -here if I am never to see you, Fred?’ -asked Jenny.</p> - -<p>‘That depends upon yourself, my -darling; you can’t do it from your -father’s house, that’s certain.’</p> - -<p>‘Who’s from, then?’ said Jenny.</p> - -<p>‘From mine, sweetheart! Don’t think -me very bold, but, if you love me as you -say, you will marry me whether your -parents give their consent or not.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p>‘So I will, if you will only tell me how, -Fred.’</p> - -<p>‘We must elope together, dearest; -heaps of husbands and wives have done -it before us, and been none the worse. -Your father says that if you marry without -his consent, he will leave you none of -his money; that is a thing you must take -into serious consideration, before you give -me your answer. I have enough for both -of us, still, you would be a richer woman -if you remained your father’s heiress; his -fortune cannot be less than ten thousand -a year, whilst mine is only two thousand.’</p> - -<p>‘What do I care for money in comparison -with you, Fred?’ whispered -Jenny.</p> - -<p>‘That’s my own true girl,’ he answered, -folding her closely to him, ‘and once you -have made up your mind to marry me -without your father’s consent, the rest -is easy enough. Tell me to get a licence, -and to give notice at the nearest registrar’s -office to my place, and you have only to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> -arrange how you can join me, so as to -give us a few hours’ start of Mr Crampton, -and I will have you out of his reach and -power before the day is over.’</p> - -<p>‘To join you, dearest, is easily managed,’ -replied the girl. ‘I must take a -few things with me, you know, Fred! To -run away in the clothes I stand up in, -would be altogether too romantic for the -nineteenth century. But I can send a -box to my dressmaker’s, under pretence -of wanting some dresses altered—no one -interferes with my dress at home—and -then, when you let me know which day -I am to be in town, I will drive myself -over, as if to go shopping; tell Brunell -to put the cobs up for a few hours, and -call for me at Madame Costello’s at 5 -o’clock, and <i>apres ça, le deluge</i>!’</p> - -<p>‘A deluge of love, my darling—a life -of happiness, during which I shall have -but one thought—one aspiration—how I -can best repay my darling angel for the -sacrifice she has made for me. And, perhaps, -after a time, your parents will come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -round. I cannot believe but that they -will forgive our temerity in the end, and -all will be merry as a marriage bell.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! poor mamma has nothing to do -with it, Fred. I honestly believe she -would let me marry a crossing-sweeper -if I had set my heart upon it. I never -remember her saying “No” to me since -I was a baby. It is papa who is making -all the fuss, and he is as obstinate -as a pig. He thinks it is a sign of his -own religion, to kick up such a dust -about your being a Catholic, but I say -he only proves he is no Christian by it. -What can it signify if one is a Protestant -or a Catholic? I am sure, for my own -part, I would as soon be one as the -other, and preferably neither. If you -wish me to become a Catholic, Fred, I -will to please you, but I hope you won’t -expect me to go to church and hear sermons, -for if there is one thing beyond -another for which I long to get married, -it is to have my liberty in such matters. -Papa and mamma have sickened me of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> -church-going. Aunt Clem, too, who is -so very pious, has a face long enough -to turn the milk sour. It is not encouraging -to a girl to go and do likewise.’</p> - -<p>Frederick Walcheren laughed as he -kissed the speaker.</p> - -<p>‘My darling!’ he answered, ‘I daresay -your people have warned you that I am -not a particularly good young man, but I -can boast of one merit—I have never pretended -to be better than I am. My cousin, -Philip, and his great friend, Father Tasker, -consider me a lost soul, but they cannot -say that I am a dishonest one. They -have heard some rumour—how, Heaven -only knows—that I am very <i>épris</i> in a certain -quarter, and put in an appearance at -my rooms this afternoon to learn if it -was true that I contemplated matrimony. -You may take your oath that I did not -gratify their curiosity. They want to get -me into the church, so that they may grab -my money. They’ve been trying it on for -years, but this fish won’t bite!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> - -<p>‘But, Fred, darling, would anything on -earth ever make you go into the church?’ -inquired Jenny, rather anxiously.</p> - -<p>‘Nothing on earth,’ he replied, quickly; -but, after a slight pause, he added, ‘at least -only <i>one</i> thing, and that is too dreadful to -contemplate. If you were taken from me, -my treasure—if anything happened to you -and I were left alone—I should be mad -enough for anything—even to go into a -monastery, and sacrifice every farthing I -possess. What good would money be to -me without my love?’</p> - -<p>He pressed her closely to him as he -spoke, and the two young faces were laid -against each other, and the two young -forms seemed to melt for a moment into -one. But in another moment Jenny had -sprung up to a standing position.</p> - -<p>‘I must go, dear Fred,’ she exclaimed, -‘or they will miss me, and Mr Hindes may -be sent to find out where I am. Good-bye, -good-bye, my darling. How soon do you -think I shall have your letter?’</p> - -<p>‘The day after to-morrow, love! To-morrow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -morning I shall be in Doctors’ -Commons for the licence, and will wire -you simply, “All right, Costello.” Then, -should the telegram fall into other hands, -it will be thought to come from the dressmaker. -On receipt of this, you must drive -over on the following day to Madame -Costello’s, and leave your box there, and -as soon as you have dismissed Brunell -and the trap, I will take you to the registrar’s -office, and, when the knot is securely -tied, we will pick up the box and be off to -Dover. Will that suit your ladyship? -Brunell will call for you at Costello’s at -five o’clock, and, after waiting about for a -considerable time, will return to Hampstead -and give the alarm. By which time -my wife and I will be enjoying our dinner -at the Castle Warden, and laughing over -the adventures of our wedding-day.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Fred, it seems too good to come -true,’ said the girl, with a slight shiver.</p> - -<p>‘Nonsense, my dearest. It will come -true, sure enough. But you are cold, -my pretty Jenny. I have been a selfish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -brute to keep you out here so long. Let -me take you back to the picture gallery. -Or is it wiser you should go alone? -Good-night, then, and God bless you. -Give me one kiss, and don’t forget to -meet me the day after you receive that -wire!’</p> - -<p>‘As if I <i>could</i> forget,’ replied the girl -reproachfully, as she raised her face for -her lover’s embrace, and, with his assistance, -re-entered the picture gallery, and -walked slowly back to the ballroom, to -tell her mother she had such a terrible -fit of neuralgia, she would rather return -home at once.</p> - -<p>Mr and Mrs Hindes, who were seated -near Mrs Crampton, were all solicitude -for her assumed indisposition, and Mr -Hindes suggested taking her for a turn -in the fresh air to see if the change from -the heated ballroom would relieve her. -Mrs Hindes, a tall, slight woman, with -dark eyes and hair, and a graceful figure, -who was really attached to Jenny, inquired -with whom she had been dancing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> -the last set, as she had looked for her -in vain.</p> - -<p>‘I have not been dancing at all,’ replied -Jenny, boldly; ‘I have been sitting in -the picture gallery with Lord Craven, -but my head gets worse instead of better. -Come along, mother, the carriage must -be waiting for us by this time, and I am -tired to death. I want to get to bed.’</p> - -<p>‘Certainly, my love,’ replied Mrs -Crampton, with her usual lamb-like acquiescence -to all her daughter’s demands; -‘perhaps Mr Hindes will be good enough -to see us to the carriage.’</p> - -<p>And Henry Hindes, who was convinced -that Miss Crampton’s neuralgia was due -to Mr Walcheren’s defalcation, smiled -inwardly, and conducted the ladies to -their barouche, with much satisfaction -that he had conducted the business he -had taken on himself so successfully.</p> - -<p>When Jenny Crampton reached home -and found herself in the seclusion of -her bedroom, she did not give way to -any access of nervous agitation, or feel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -any trepidation at the thoughts of the -important step which she had taken on -herself. That might be all very well -for a damsel of romance of a hundred -years ago, but it is not the way the -young women of the present day manage -their affairs. They are too strong-minded, -to cry and shake and faint over the -deeds they have put their sign and seal -to. Jenny had made an appeal to become -the wife of Mr Walcheren in a -fair way, and her request had been denied -her, for what she considered a frivolous -objection. She knew there was no chance -of altering her father’s decision, and -having always been given her own way -since a child, she determined to take -it now. She regretted having to be -married privately, but she saw no wrong -in it. Her parents might be sorry when -they heard of it, but they had brought -it on themselves. She was not going to -keep Frederick waiting for an indefinite -period, and perhaps lose him altogether, -because her father did not like Roman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -Catholics as well as he did Protestants. -<i>She</i> didn’t object to his religion, and she -was the principal party concerned, so -the young lady looked out the dresses -she wished to take with her, and made -her maid Ellen pack them in the box -to take to the dressmaker’s, and, when -the key was in her own hands, she -unlocked it again and added the articles -of linen and jewellery that she needed, -and managed the whole affair as coolly -as if she had been preparing for elopements -all her life. On the Friday—it -was on a Thursday that she received -the wire to tell her all was right, and -it was on a Friday that her ill-regulated -marriage took place—she dressed herself -in her most becoming tailor-made costume, -and drove gaily off to town, with a wave -of her hand and a crack of her whip as -a last adieu to the mother and aunt -who loved her devotedly. She had promised -them privately that she would -be back to luncheon, unless her cousins, -the Burtons, were at home again (which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> -she did not anticipate), and pressed her -to stay the afternoon.</p> - -<p>‘But, Jenny, love!’ expostulated her -mother, ‘don’t stay later than two, even -if they do! Pray be home before papa -comes back from the city. Remember -how very particular he is about your driving -in town by yourself, and I’m afraid -he may blame me, if he finds I have -let you go with only Brunell.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear mother, as if Brunell were -not a better protection for me than fifty -fat old men like papa. Now, don’t worry, -there’s a good creature, for I shall be back -long before dinner time, but you know -what Costello is, and how difficult it is to -get away from her. And perhaps I sha’n’t -go to the Burtons at all. So keep up your -pecker, and don’t expect me till you see -me. Good-bye,’ and with a flourish she -was off.</p> - -<p>She drove rapidly to Kensington, and, -on arrival, directed her groom to put up -the cobs and get himself some dinner, and -call for her at Mrs Burton’s house in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -Cromwell Road at five o’clock. The -man touched his hat, the box was lifted -out, and Miss Jenny entered the dressmaker’s -abode.</p> - -<p>‘Madame Costello,’ she commenced, -‘this is a box of things belonging to my -cousin, Miss Burton, which I am just -going to take to her in Cromwell Road. -I have brought it here first that you may -take out the canvas dress you made for me, -and which is just a trifle tight under the -arms. No, I have no time to have it -fitted on, thank you. Tell the dressmaker -to let it out half an inch under both -sleeves. That will be quite sufficient.’</p> - -<p>And, unlocking the box, the little -diplomatist took out an old dress, which -she had laid at the top, and locked the -rest of its contents up again. Frederick -Walcheren was waiting for her round -the corner, she had spied him as she -drove up to the door.</p> - -<p>‘My cousin is waiting to take me on -to Cromwell Road,’ she said to Madame -Costello, as she beckoned him to advance.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -‘Ah, Fred,’ she continued, ‘you must call -a cab for me, for I have been obliged to -send the trap on to pick up papa, who -wishes to join us. Have you one ready? -That’s right. Good-morning, Madame -Costello. You needn’t hurry with the -alterations, for I shall not want that dress -again just yet.’</p> - -<p>And with that Miss Crampton entered -the cab and was soon whirling away to -the registrar’s office.</p> - -<p>‘I never saw anything more neatly -managed in my life,’ was her first remark. -‘Mamma has reason not to expect me -home till five or six. I told Brunell not -to call for me at Cromwell Road till five, -so he can’t be back in Hampstead till six -or seven, and by that time—’</p> - -<p>‘By that time you will be Mrs Frederick -Walcheren past all recall,’ said her lover, -joyfully.</p> - -<p>But at that the girl seemed suddenly -to lose her self-possession for the first -time.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! Fred,’ she cried, ‘what am I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> -doing? Oh! do stop and let me out before -it is too late! I was mad to come! -It is too wicked! My people will never -forgive me,’ and she struggled to loose -herself from his detaining clasp.</p> - -<p>‘Jenny, my dearest,’ he exclaimed, ‘be -reasonable, for my sake, do! It is too -late to go back now. I have made every -arrangement for our staying at the Castle -Warden Hotel. Besides, would you disappoint -me in so terrible a manner, after -having passed your plighted word to be -my wife? I am sure you won’t! What -should I do without you, Jenny? What -would you do without me? If we part -now, it must be for ever! Don’t make -both our lives unhappy for a little want -of courage.’</p> - -<p>‘No, no, I must go on, I feel it! I -cannot live without you, Fred. I love -you too dearly! Do just as you will -with me!’</p> - -<p>‘I had a little difficulty with the licence -business yesterday,’ he whispered, as they -travelled onwards; ‘they wanted to have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -the written consent of your guardians, or -my assurance that you were of age, so I -swore you were. It was the only way -out of it, my darling, and quite justifiable, -in my eyes, under the circumstances; but -I thought I would put you on your guard -in case the registrar put any awkward -questions to you concerning it.’</p> - -<p>‘It doesn’t signify,’ replied the girl in -a dejected tone. Now that the goal of -her desires was so nearly reached, her -high spirits seemed all to have evaporated, -and she was trembling and nervous. ‘I -have had to tell so many lies to manage -the business, that one more or less cannot -make much difference.’</p> - -<p>‘Jenny, my own girl, what has come -over you?’ asked Walcheren in some -alarm. ‘Are you not well? Do you -not love me as much as you thought you -did? Your mood is not complimentary, -dearest, to the coming ceremony. If you -really repent the step you have taken, say -so, and at all costs, if it breaks my heart, -I will get out of the cab and you shall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -return to Madame Costello’s. Jenny, do -you no longer wish to be my wife?’</p> - -<p>But, at that awful alternative, Jenny’s -sudden weakness evaporated and she -clung to her lover, as if all her hopes in -this world and the next centred in -him.</p> - -<p>‘Yes! yes! yes!’ she exclaimed eagerly, -‘you are my life—my all. I cannot live -without you, or away from you. It is -only a sudden fear of the consequences -of this step we are taking which terrified -me. It is gone now, dear Frederick, -indeed it has. What fear could I have -in becoming your wife. You, whom I -love beyond all other things. Only, my -poor parents, my poor, good mother, Fred. -How I wish she had said, “God bless you, -Jenny,” as we parted. She has been -such a kind mother to me, and she will -miss me so. She will have nothing to -occupy her thoughts, or her hands, poor -mother, now I am gone. Do you think -I shall ever see them again, Fred?—my -parents, and poor old Aunt Clem. Do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> -you think my father will keep them from -me <i>all</i> my life?’</p> - -<p>She spoke so rapidly and excitedly, and -she clung to him so tightly, that Frederick -Walcheren feared she was what the lower -orders call ‘going off her head,’ and -said all he could think of to soothe -her.</p> - -<p>‘No! no! my darling girl, what can -you be thinking of, to ask me such a -silly question? Of course, your father -will come round in time. The old gentleman -is too fond and proud of you himself -to hold out very long. It is <i>I</i> on whom -he will pour out the vials of his wrath. -Come, let me dry those tears. We are -almost at the registrar’s office now, and -he will think I am inveigling you into a -marriage against your will if he sees you -crying. Perhaps he will take it for a case -of abduction, and order me to be locked -up, until he has found out where you -come from, and if I have carried you off -by force. And then there will be the -old gentleman to pay, and no pitch hot.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> - -<p>Jenny laughed at the expression and -let Frederick kiss away her tears, and in -another half hour, they walked out of the -registrar’s office together man and wife.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Henry Hindes’ house was the most remarkable -in Hampstead. It was called -‘The Old Hall,’ and was supposed to -have been built more than two hundred -years before. It was situated within ten -minutes’ walk of Mr Crampton’s place, -‘The Cedars,’ but the two mansions belonged -to different eras of the world’s -history. ‘The Cedars’ was fitted in the -most luxurious style. Everything that -money could possibly buy, or build up, -had been added to it, to increase its convenience -and comfort. It revelled in glass -houses, expensive out-buildings, swimming -and other baths, and all the luxuries of the -prevailing season. But everything about -it was painfully new. Mr Crampton had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> -purchased a freehold of the ground, and -built ‘The Cedars’ for himself, or rather -for the daughter who was to come after -him. Often had he said to his wife that -when their Jenny married, they would find -a smaller place for themselves, and make -‘The Cedars’ part of her marriage portion. -Consequently, he had lavished money upon -it, letting the builders and upholsterers -have their own way in everything, because -it was only so much more for Jenny, when -she came, like a young queen, into the -property her father’s love had prepared -for her.</p> - -<p>But ‘The Old Hall’ was a very different -sort of dwelling-place. Henry Hindes was -a man of refined tastes and culture, a man -who, before he had come into his father’s -business, had travelled much and seen the -world of art and science, and cultivated his -mind, and raised his ideas of beauty and -workmanship. He hated business and all -its details, and, had it not been for his -children’s sake, and the loss it would prove -to them, would have sold his share of it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -for whatever it might fetch, and given up -his life to the pursuit of his fancy. As it -was, he refreshed himself, in the intervals -of less congenial work, by making his -home as beautiful as he could, but in a -very different fashion from that of the -Cramptons.</p> - -<p>‘The Old Hall’ had low-roofed rooms, -wainscotted with black oak, into which he -would not permit the innovation of gas, -and ghostly corridors that ran the whole -length of the building, and stained glass -windows which let in very little light, -and made the house dark and gloomy -in the eyes of such Philistines as could -not appreciate medieval customs, and -the relics of barbarism which made the -delight of its owner’s heart.</p> - -<p>He was the possessor, too, of an admirable -collection of paintings, mostly of grim -and melancholy subjects, but valuable in -their way, and well in accordance with the -mummies, sarcophagæ, curious gems and -stones, and other curiosities which he had -gathered on his travels and stored up in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> -remembrance of them. His was a charming -household, and his collection of odds -and ends were the only gloomy things in it. -His wife, Hannah Hindes, was a cultured -and intelligent gentlewoman, eminently fond -of him, and regarding his powerful brain -and capacity for business with an admiration -which bordered on reverence; and -he was the father of three handsome and -healthy children, all of whom he loved, and -one of whom he idolised—to wit, Master -Walter Hindes, his only son, an infant of -some two years old.</p> - -<p>To see Henry Hindes with this child in -his fine old garden was to see him at his -best—he was so partial to floriculture, and -such a student of botany; though in this, -as in other things, he would not allow -fashion to trample sweetness and commonsense -under foot. In the large, shady -garden of ‘The Old Hall’ were to be found -all sorts of flowers, growing together in the -same bed. No ribbon borders or collections -of prize begonias, or pelargoniums, of -giant blossoms, or dwarfed bushes, transformed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -it into the semblance of a nurseryman’s -plot of ground; but sweet-smelling -herbs grew amongst the choicer plants, -and high and low bloomed side by side, as -they used to do in the long ago.</p> - -<p>In the summer weather, Henry Hindes -spent almost all his spare time in his garden -with his children, and was apparently quite -happy with his own thoughts and them. -Hannah Hindes was a woman who never -grated on her husband’s finer sensibilities. -She was loving, tender and conscientious; -but she seldom obtruded herself or her -opinions on him, and never in opposition -to his own. She was always there when -needed, calm and intelligent, ready to give -advice but not eager to thrust it down one’s -throat; a restful sort of woman for a man -to come home to after a hard and perhaps -harassing day’s work.</p> - -<p>And she had in her turn an admirable -husband, for Mr Hindes was mild-tempered -and indulgent; never found fault -with anything his wife did, or wished to -do, and was always quick to think of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -her comfort and that of her children.</p> - -<p>A few mornings after the dance at the -Bouchers’, they were strolling together -under the shade of an avenue of elm trees, -which formed the approach to the house, -and he was telling her of his interview with -Frederick Walcheren. One of the little -girls, Elsie, was holding her mother by the -hand, whilst the other, Laura, was wandering -in front of them, and the son and heir, -was perched on his father’s shoulder, enjoying -a ride. In the length and breadth -of England, you could hardly have found -a more united, or happier family.</p> - -<p>‘I did not much relish the task, Hannah,’ -he was saying to his wife, ‘when Mr Crampton -entrusted it to me, for I anticipated a -tough battle with the young gentleman. -A man does not particularly care to have -a stranger intermeddle with his love -affairs—’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! but Mr Walcheren could never -look on you as a stranger,’ interposed Mrs -Hindes, ‘he must know how very intimate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -you are with the family and that you have -known dear Jenny almost since she was -born.’</p> - -<p>‘Not quite that, Hannah,’ said her -husband, wincing, for he did not like to -be reminded that he was ‘getting on,’ -‘but long enough, at all events, to act as -her father’s ambassador. Anyhow, I -thought he would resent my speaking to -him, and perhaps cause a bit of a scandal; -but, to my surprise, he took it so quietly -and so much as a matter of course, that I -begin to think he was never in earnest, -and was rather glad than otherwise, of -an opportunity to withdraw without dishonour.’</p> - -<p>‘Then he must be a scoundrel!’ replied -Mrs Hindes, with unusual vehemence for -her gentle nature, ‘for I am witness that he -behaved to dear Jenny just as if he were in -earnest. I have been with them often, -<i>you</i> know, Henry, when there has been -no one else by, and if ever a man pretended -to be in love with a woman, Mr -Walcheren did!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<p>‘Anyone would “spoon” a little, with -such a pretty girl, if she gave him the -opportunity, my dear,’ replied Mr Hindes, -‘and our dear Jenny is a bit of a flirt, you -must allow that. I wouldn’t trust her with -a grandfather, if I valued his peace of -mind.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t know what you mean by -“spoon,”’ said Mrs Hindes, who professed -to understand no modern slang, -‘but he looked at her and spoke to her -as if he loved her and wished her to -love him, and, if he meant nothing by -it, all I can say is that he deserves -a much worse reprimand than a mere -hint to cease his visits at the house. -Why, he might have broken darling -Jenny’s heart!’</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed her -husband; ‘she doesn’t care for the fellow!’</p> - -<p>‘Who can say if she cares for him or -not, Henry? Women don’t run about, -as a rule, telling everyone they meet -of their predilections for gentlemen who -have not yet proposed for them.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> - -<p>‘But, good God! do you mean to -insinuate that the girl’s happiness is -likely to be affected by this business? -You must be mistaken! Jenny would -never be such a fool as to risk losing -all her father’s money for the sake of -the first young jackanapes who says he -loves her!’</p> - -<p>‘She may like the jackanapes better -than the money, Henry. I don’t think -women stick at much where their hearts -are concerned. Besides, has not Mr -Walcheren a fortune of his own?’</p> - -<p>‘Perhaps—I don’t know—unless he has -already made ducks and drakes of it,’ -replied Henry Hindes, wiping the perspiration -from his forehead. ‘But Jenny -has never thought of him seriously, I -am sure of it! Her father was telling -me only yesterday, that her demeanour -has not changed in the least since he -told her she must give him up, but is -as cheerful and lively as usual. That -doesn’t look as if she was very miserable -over the loss, eh, Hannah?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<p>‘Perhaps she does not believe she -shall lose him,’ observed his wife.</p> - -<p>‘What do you mean by that?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing particular, only Jenny may -derive comfort from looking forward to -the time when she will be of age and -able to please herself. It seems unnatural -to me that they should give -each other up so cheerfully, and it is -not Jenny’s disposition either. You seem -to forget what a self-willed little mortal -she is! And Mr Walcheren is so good-looking -too. I am sure Jenny has -positively raved to me about his beauty. -And where will he find such another -girl? I thought she looked more like -an angel than a woman at the Bouchers’ -on Wednesday. So pure and sweet -and fresh in that white dress, and with -those lovely eyes of hers shining like -two stars. Don’t you think she has -the very loveliest eyes in the world, -Hal?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes! yes! very pretty, certainly; but -handsome is as handsome does, Hannah,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -and I should be dreadfully grieved if I -thought Jenny could be capable of wilfully -deceiving her parents. It would break -their hearts. If you fancy she may be -(and you women know best about each -other as a rule), tell me so, and I will -warn the Cramptons. It will be my duty -to do so, for they are the oldest friends I -possess.’</p> - -<p>Mrs Hindes was just about to answer -her husband’s query, when they were both -startled by the appearance of Mr Crampton -coming up the drive towards them. -There was evidently something unusual -about his visit. In the first place, the old -man was walking, a most unheard of exertion -on his part, and, in the second, he -would, in the ordinary course of events, -have met his partner in a few minutes in -the train, as this was Saturday, when they -made a point of going to the City together, -in order to pay the workmen’s -wages, and set things generally right for -the ensuing week.</p> - -<p>‘My dear Crampton! what on earth is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> -the matter?’ cried Henry Hindes, putting -down his child, and hastening to his -partner.</p> - -<p>Mr Crampton’s face, which was always -of a fine roseate hue, was now positively -purple, and, from fast walking and agitation, -he found it impossible to articulate. -Hannah feared he was going to have a fit, -and urged her husband to get him to the -house before he attempted to tell them -what was amiss. Even when he was -placed in a library chair, it was some -minutes before he could find breath to -speak, and, meanwhile, the distress pictured -on his features was unmistakable.</p> - -<p>‘My dear friend,’ said Mr Hindes, with -the greatest concern, ‘are you ill? Is -anything wrong at home? For God’s -sake, speak, and put us out of this terrible -suspense!’</p> - -<p>‘She’s gone, Hindes! she’s gone!’ -gasped Mr Crampton at last.</p> - -<p>‘Gone? Who? Not Jenny?’ cried -Mrs Hindes.</p> - -<p>The old man nodded his head.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> - -<p>‘Not dead?’ said Hindes, turning as -white as a sheet.</p> - -<p>‘No! No! Gone off with that scoundrel -Walcheren,’ replied Mr Crampton, who -had somewhat recovered himself. ‘Didn’t -you tell me that he promised to give up -all pretensions to her hand, and to leave -off visiting her or writing to her?’</p> - -<p>‘He did, most emphatically!’ said -Hindes. ‘I was just telling my wife -about it.’</p> - -<p>‘And so did she—so did Jenny,’ continued -the father, in a broken voice; ‘and -they were both lying to us, sir—both -lying! She has left us for him. She -writes she is married to him—that it is of -no use our attempting any opposition, and -we may keep our worthless money for ourselves—and -our broken hearts too, I suppose,’ -he added, in a lower tone.</p> - -<p>‘But it is impossible—there must be -some mistake—how did it happen?’ cried -Henry Hindes, excitedly.</p> - -<p>‘Well, they must have managed to -have some communication with each other<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> -since Wednesday, for the girl joined him -yesterday. My wife is such a fool—God -forgive me for calling her by such a -name!—that she never exercised the least -supervision over the child, and yesterday -morning it seems that Jenny said she was -going to her dressmaker’s, and they let -her set off alone with Brunell. She told -him on reaching town—this is the man’s -story, remember—to put up the horses, -and call for her at the Burtons in Cromwell -Road, at five o’clock. He was there to -his time, and waited outside for an hour, -when a caretaker came to the door and -asked him what he was waiting for. On -his telling her, she said that no young lady -had been there that day—that the family -was still out of town, and she didn’t know -when they were likely to be home again. -On hearing that, Brunell drove to -Madame Costello’s, but learned there that -Jenny had left directly he drove off in -the morning, and had not returned since. -A gentleman, her cousin, the woman -said, had fetched her away in a cab.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -The man came back with this story, and -you may imagine the night we have had. -My wife was sure it was all right, but I -knew the end from the beginning.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t despair, sir, until you are quite -sure,’ said Hannah, with ready sympathy.</p> - -<p>‘I <i>am</i> sure, Mrs Hindes. We sat up -all night, and the first post this morning -brought us that.’</p> - -<p>He threw down a scribbled note on the -table as he spoke, and Hannah picked it -up, for her husband seemed too paralysed -at the calamity that had overtaken his -friends, to be able to do anything. The -note ran thus:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear Father and Mother</span>,—I could -not give Frederick up, as you desired me to -do, because we love each other too much, -so we were married this morning at the -Earl’s Court Registrar Office, where you -can see the entry if you doubt my word. -Don’t be too angry with me. Remember -I am your only child.—Yours affectionately,</p> - -<p> -<span class="smcap">Jenny Walcheren</span>.’<br> -</p> -</div><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> - -<p>‘That’s a nice letter for a man to receive, -who has idolised his child for twenty -years, isn’t it, Mrs Hindes?’ asked Mr -Crampton sarcastically. ‘Remember she is -my only child; indeed, I’m not likely to -forget it, I can tell Miss Jenny that. And -I’ll never see her again, not if I live -another fifty years!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, don’t say that. You don’t know -what may happen to alter your mind,’ said -Hannah, as she took the old man’s hand in -hers and pressed it warmly. ‘You love -her dearly, and she loves you. Things will -not look so black when you are more used -to them. After all, Mr Walcheren comes -of a good family, and—’</p> - -<p>‘And is a Papist,’ interrupted Mr -Crampton angrily, ‘a member of the faith -which I despise and abhor and contemn—the -faith which will bring my wretched -daughter down to hell with himself. No, -Mrs Hindes, my dear; you mean kindly, -but don’t talk to me of ever seeing this -matter in a better light.’</p> - -<p>‘But she is under age,’ said Henry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> -Hindes, speaking for the first time. ‘How -could he marry her without the written -consent of her guardians?’</p> - -<p>‘By a lie, of course. He must have -sworn she was of age. It came natural -to a Papist, no doubt. They’re made of -lies, religion and all! It’s a proper beginning -for a life of deception and ingratitude.’</p> - -<p>‘But if the licence has been obtained -under false pretences, Crampton,’ said -Mr Hindes eagerly, ‘it may not yet be too -late to set it aside. It may be possible to -force him to return your daughter to you, -at all events until she is of age. I don’t -know the law accurately on this point, but -I can go to town at once and inquire, and -if there is a chance—if she could be returned -to you—’</p> - -<p>Mr Hindes’ urbanity seemed to have forsaken -him at this juncture, for he trembled -so violently that his very teeth chattered.</p> - -<p>‘And do you suppose that I would -take her back?’ cried Mr Crampton, -vehemently. ‘What! take the casket<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> -without the jewel! Receive my daughter—no -longer only my daughter, but that -man’s plaything—in her dishonoured -home? Never! I will see her dead -first! I will stand by thankfully, and -watch her coffin lowered into the ground, -sooner than acknowledge her again as -my child. I have no child now. My -Jenny, in whom I took such pride, for -whom I have made money and treasured -and garnered it up, is gone from me. -She is no longer mine. She is Walcheren’s -wife. I have lost her more -effectually than if she had been taken -from me by death, as her brothers and -sisters were, and never, so help me God! -will I see her of my own free will, in -this world again.’</p> - -<p>He was fuming and raging in his -despair, and Hannah Hindes motioned -to her husband, to do or say something -to calm the old man. But Henry Hindes -remained as silent and motionless, as -if he had been carved in stone. Then -she attempted the task herself.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> - -<p>‘Dear Mr Crampton,’ she whispered, -laying her gentle hand on his knotted -one, ‘surely you are going too far. -This terrible disappointment has come -upon you too suddenly, but try to -look at it in a more reasonable light. -Jenny has done very, very wrong; no -one could think otherwise, but you -must not speak of her as if she were -abandoned to sin. She is honourably -married, remember; and she is so -young, that perhaps she did not view -the fault of rebelling against your -authority from so serious a point of -view as we do. Mr Walcheren doubtless -persuaded her that it was only a -venial error, which you would soon -forgive, for I cannot believe that she -could ever forget your great love for -her, nor hers for you.’</p> - -<p>She smoothed the old man’s palm -with a motherly touch as she spoke, -and her soft voice and manner served -in a measure to soothe his extreme -agitation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>‘You are a good woman, Mrs Hindes, -my dear,’ he replied, more calmly, -‘but my daughter must abide by the -step she has taken, however this fellow -cajoled her into it. She knew well -enough that I would never give my -consent to her marriage with a d—d -Papist. She gave me her solemn -promise, too, to give up all communication -with him. She lied to me, Mrs -Hindes, as the man lied to your husband, -and I renounce them both—I -renounce them both! Henceforth, I -have no child. Heaven took five from -me, and the devil’s got the last.’</p> - -<p>And with that Mr Crampton drew forth -a red silk handkerchief and buried his face -in it.</p> - -<p>‘But what is to be done?’ inquired -Henry Hindes, ‘what is to be done?’</p> - -<p>Hannah glanced round at him in astonishment. -His full, deep voice seemed all of -a sudden to have become thin and squeaky.</p> - -<p>‘Mr Crampton seems to think that we -can do nothing, dearest,’ she answered.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span></p> - -<p>‘But some sort of reply must be sent to -her letter,’ he continued, ‘or she may present -herself at any moment in Hampstead. -She is very impetuous, you know, Crampton, -and will not easily believe that you -can be seriously angry with her. We -must prevent a scandal if possible. You -had better write to her, or see her once, -just to come to an understanding, that you -may know what to expect, and she also.’</p> - -<p>‘I will never see her, nor write to her -again,’ said Mr Crampton.</p> - -<p>‘Henry, could <i>you</i> not do so?’ asked -his wife, pleadingly. ‘If Mr Crampton -consents to it, could you not first verify -the marriage, and then see poor Jenny, -and tell her her father’s decision? Someone -ought surely to do it.’</p> - -<p>‘Where does she write from?’ asked -Mr Hindes.</p> - -<p>‘From the Castle Warden Hotel at -Dover, whence they will probably cross -over to Paris. If you follow them it -should be at once. Will you go? Shall -I get your portmanteau ready?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> - -<p>She loved the girl, and cherished a -secret hope that, through her husband’s -intervention, a reconciliation might be -effected between the daughter and her -parents.</p> - -<p>‘I am at Mr Crampton’s service,’ said -Mr Hindes.</p> - -<p>‘What do you expect to issue from the -proceeding?’ asked the old man, in a -muffled voice. ‘I will never receive her -back at “The Cedars.” It is of no use -giving her any false hopes, for my decision -is irrevocable. She is dead to me from -this time forward.’</p> - -<p>‘Will her mother consent to that, sir?’</p> - -<p>‘If she does not she must join her -daughter, for I will have no one who -associates with Papists in my house. I -would as soon cherish a brood of vipers. -But I do not anticipate my wife being -so ungrateful as to desert me in this -extremity.’</p> - -<p>‘But if Jenny—if your daughter, on -hearing your decision, and learning that -it is unalterable, should elect to give up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -her husband and return to the protection -of her parents—what then, sir?’</p> - -<p>‘There is no chance of it,’ said the old -man.</p> - -<p>‘I am not so sure of that. Our childhood’s -affections are generally the strongest. -She may be repenting the step she has -taken even now. If I see her and find -she wishes to come home again—what -then?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not say that, in such a case, I -should absolutely refuse to receive her, -but it would be only on the very strictest -conditions. And you would let me know -first? You would not bring me face to -face with her without any preparation, for, -by the Lord, Hindes, I would not trust -myself to say what I might do in such -a case.’</p> - -<p>‘No,’ replied Hindes, ‘I promise you I -will not act in any way without your consent. -But I will go down to Dover, and -see if it is possible to have an interview -with her alone. If Mr Walcheren is present -I have no hopes of success.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> - -<p>‘Don’t mention the fellow’s name!’ exclaimed -Mr Crampton. ‘The very sound -of it makes me feel like a murderer. I -can conceive at this moment nothing that -would give me greater pleasure than to -squeeze the last breath out of his vile -body.’</p> - -<p>He rose to leave then, tottering as if the -fatal intelligence had added twenty years -to his existence.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t walk home. Let me order the -carriage. It won’t be ten minutes, and -then it can take Henry to the station,’ -said Hannah, kindly.</p> - -<p>‘Thank you, my dear,’ replied Mr -Crampton, reseating himself. ‘I do not -really think I am equal to the exertion. -To think that a rebellious girl has the -power to sap a man’s strength in this -manner.’</p> - -<p>‘The news has been a shock to all of -us,’ returned Hannah. ‘My husband -looks almost as bad as you do. Henry, -you must take something before you start. -Ring the bell and tell Simmonds to bring<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -some brandy and soda. Your face is -positively ghastly. What shall I put -up for you? Shall you stay the -night?’</p> - -<p>‘No, I think not; but, perhaps, I may. -Just a shirt and a brush and comb, please, -nothing more. I am so grieved for the -Cramptons,’ said her husband to her, in -a lower tone, ‘so deeply, deeply grieved. -This will break their hearts. I shouldn’t -wonder if it were the death of both of -them.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes; poor, dear, old people, they -loved her so,’ rejoined Hannah, with the -tears in her eyes, ‘and we shall feel it -terribly, too, Henry, when we have time -to realise that it is true.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! that’s all nonsense,’ said her -husband, roughly. ‘It is of them we -have to think. What can it matter to -us? Sooner or later she must have -married someone, and <i>we</i> have no especial -antipathy to Papists. But there is no -time to discuss the matter now. Do as -I tell you, and let me be off.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> - -<p>And in another five minutes the two -partners in the firm of Hindes & Crampton -were driving down the elm-tree road -together.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Honeymoons are not always the blissful -periods anticipated by those who enter on -them, but Frederick’s and Jenny’s promised -to be an exception to the rule. -The girl was so lively and merry, so -easily pleased with all that surrounded -her, and disposed to make so light of any -little <i>désagremens</i>, that she formed a delightful -companion. And then, she was -so desperately in love with her husband, -and he with her, that they both thought, -and perhaps rightly, that they had never -known what happiness was till then. -Frederick especially, who had frittered -away his time and his affections on more -girls than he could remember the names -of, could not understand how he could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -have been such a fool as to waste his -life in so frivolous a manner, when so -much pleasure had been within his grasp. -The day after his marriage, when he was -ready to consider himself quite a Benedict -of experience, he decided that there -was but one source of happiness, worth -calling by the name, in this world, and -that was the whole and undivided love of -a wife, whose heart you felt to be entirely -your own.</p> - -<p>It was a lovely day, and the two young -people were sitting in a room that looked -upon the sea, watching the bright waves -that were dashing up against the harbour -bar, and filling the air with their sweet, -salt flavour. Jenny, looking the very -quintessence of youth and beauty, attired -in a flowing gown of white muslin and -lace, with a knot of blue ribbon in her -sunny hair, was seated on her husband’s -knee, playing with his dark locks, and -ever and anon pressing her ripe lips -upon his forehead.</p> - -<p>‘My darling, my darling!’ he said, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> -a fervour of admiration, ‘how happy we -are! Did you ever think we should be -so exquisitely happy, Jenny?’</p> - -<p>‘No, Fred, I have never dreamed -there could be such bliss in my life before. -It is like heaven to be here, all -alone with you, and to feel that we shall -never, never part again, that we are all -in all to one another, and that no one can -ever come between us, or separate us. -I have only one little regret, Fred, darling, -and that is a very little one.’</p> - -<p>‘What is it, sweetheart?’</p> - -<p>‘That father and mother are angry -with me! If they had been kind about -you, I should be the very happiest girl -alive. I think <i>I am</i> that, now, but if -everything were right with the old people, -I should be the happiest in heaven or -earth.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear little wife, I don’t think you -need trouble your sweet self about that, -they are sure to come round before long. -Why you know they couldn’t live without -you. Naturally they are angry at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -present. We have been very naughty, -but we mean to be ever so good for the -future, so that they shall be quite proud -of us. By the way, Jenny, did you write -that letter to your father?’</p> - -<p>‘Certainly, and posted it yesterday. -Oh! what a time it seems since we were -married. I can hardly believe it is only -a day. It seems like a year.’</p> - -<p>‘That’s very complimentary to me, -my darling; but you might have had an -answer to your letter by telegram this -morning.’</p> - -<p>‘So I might, but I daresay dear old -papa is awfully enraged with me, and is -keeping me in suspense on purpose; but -mamma is sure to write in a day or two; -I shall be glad to hear from them, Fred. -I’d rather know the worst at once.’</p> - -<p>‘Why, what do you suppose the worst -will be, you little silly? Who can do -you any real harm, now that you have -me to protect you? Who could wound -you through the circle of my arms,’ exclaimed -Frederick, as he cast them around<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -her. ‘I defy the world to take my angel -from my clasp; and so long as she has -me and I have her, we shall be happy!’</p> - -<p>The girl was silent for a few moments, -whilst her husband was devouring her -with kisses, but when he released her, -she said thoughtfully,—</p> - -<p>‘Do you know who I doubt, Fred, though -he has been our friend for years, and papa -thinks there is no one like him—Mr Hindes! -He has always been awfully good to me, -and his wife is one of my dearest friends, -but still, somehow, he always seems to come -between me and anything I like. He is -always advising papa about me, as if I -belonged to him as well. He made him -exchange my dog-cart for a Ralli, because -he declared it was too dangerous -for me to drive about in, and he makes -mamma take me home from parties before -twelve o’clock, for fear I should be overtired. -I suppose he means it kindly, but -I think it is very officious of him, and I -have told him so. And now, I fancy, he -will be advising my parents not to give<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> -in and forgive me too soon—perhaps -tell them not to forgive me at all,’ added -Jenny, with drooping head.</p> - -<p>‘Officious, indeed! I should call it -d—d impertinence on his part,’ acquiesced -her husband, ‘and he wouldn’t -try that game on twice with me! To -tell you the truth, little woman, I don’t -like your Mr Hindes any more than you -do; he interfered in my affairs sufficiently -by informing me I was to make myself -scarce, but I expect by this time that he -has found out his mistake. There is -certainly something curious about the -fellow. One cannot find fault with his -manner, which is most courteous, and he -seems well-informed into the bargain, and -yet he has a knack of saying the most -unpleasant things in a pleasant way that -I ever came across. However, he will -never worry you again, my Jenny, nor cross -your path, if you don’t wish him to do so.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! I have no wish to cut him, only -I fancy he will influence papa to hold -out against us as long as possible. For<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -the funny part about him is, that although -he has always been so kind to me, personally, -whenever he advises papa on my -account, it is always something to give me -annoyance instead of pleasure. I really -quite hated him at one time, for so constantly -opposing my wishes. I was always -doing something unladylike, or dangerous, -or foolish, according to Mr Hindes’ -account.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, that’s over, at all events,’ replied -Frederick, ‘neither Mr Hindes, nor Mr -Anybody else, shall ever interfere with -my wife’s pursuits. If I think she is -endangering her precious safety, I shall -kiss her till she promises me to leave it -off and be a good girl, but nothing else -shall come between us.’</p> - -<p>‘I shall go on being bad, so that you -may go on kissing me,’ said Jenny, as she -nestled closer to him.</p> - -<p>‘But what are we going to decide about -to-morrow, little wife?’ asked the young -man, after an eloquent pause. ‘Is it to -be Paris or not?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<p>‘Do the boats run to-morrow?’ asked -Jenny, dubiously.</p> - -<p>‘I fancy so, but that is soon ascertained. -They are sure to know all about it in the -hotel. The question is, do you prefer to -cross to-morrow or Monday?’</p> - -<p>‘We are very happy here,’ said the girl, -thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>‘Happy! my sweet! happy is not the -word for it. We are in Paradise, at least -I know I am. But what made you make -that remark?’</p> - -<p>‘Because, if it is all the same to you, -Fred, I would rather stay here till Monday; -then, if my father writes to me, or -wishes to see me, I shall have time to -receive his letter or to receive him before -we leave England.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well, dear, have your own way -in everything. You will never find me -oppose your wishes. I am not so -sanguine as you are about the old people -coming round so quickly—I fancy your -dear papa has a will of his own—still, -it will be as well, perhaps, to stay a day<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -or two in England, to give them a chance -of behaving like Christians. But what -do you feel like now doing now, eh?’</p> - -<p>‘Kissing you,’ replied Jenny, suiting -the action to the word.</p> - -<p>‘But we’ve been at that game for -twenty-four mortal hours, my darling,’ -he cried, laughing, ‘and before long -there will be nothing of us left. Will -you come for a walk?’</p> - -<p>‘Dearest, I’m too tired.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, if your ladyship will give me a -little leave of absence, I will go for a -swim. It is just the day for it. I sha’n’t -be long. Back for luncheon, at all events.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! love, be careful,’ exclaimed Jenny, -with startled eyes; ‘don’t do anything -rash. Think how precious you are to -me!’</p> - -<p>‘You dear goose,’ replied her husband, -‘why, swimming is one of the things I -do best. However, I will be careful, I -promise you, now, and always, that I have -such a dear wife to care if I live or die.’</p> - -<p>‘I suppose you will not want luncheon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -till three,’ said Jenny, for the remains of -breakfast were still on the table.</p> - -<p>‘No, three will do nicely, and then we -will have a carriage and go for a jolly -drive over the cliffs.’</p> - -<p>‘I wish I had my dear cobs here, and -could drive you myself,’ said Jenny, with -a slight sigh. ‘I wonder if father will let -me have my cobs. They are my very -own, for he gave them to me on my -birthday.’</p> - -<p>‘If he doesn’t, your husband will give -you a pair that you will like just as well.’</p> - -<p>He came back as he spoke and embraced -her fondly.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t regret anything you may have -left behind you, my sweet,’ he murmured, -‘remember, you cannot have them and me -as well.’</p> - -<p>‘I regret nothing and nobody,’ she -answered, clinging to him, ‘you are my -world, dearest. In having you I have -everything.’</p> - -<p>The young man’s face glowed with -delight, as he tore himself away from his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -enchantress, and left the hotel to have his -swim.</p> - -<p>For a little time after he had quitted -her, Jenny tried to interest herself with -the newspapers and magazines which they -had purchased the day before. But she -was naturally restless, and could not -chain her thoughts to anything. She read -one or two short stories without knowing -what they were about, for her mind -would keep wandering back to Hampstead -and all that was happening there. Every -time a footfall sounded near her room, -she fancied it was the waiter bringing a -telegram from her father, or a message, -perhaps, that he waited below to speak -to her. At last her nervous dread, lest -he should arrive and interview her without -the protection of her husband, grew -to such a height that she felt as if she -could not remain in the hotel without -Frederick, and put on her walking attire -with the idea of going to the beach -and waiting for him there. But Dover -was a strange place to Jenny, and she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -had no idea which direction Frederick -might have taken, nor where the gentlemen -bathed, nor if it would be proper -for her to go there if she did. Besides, -did she not remember her husband saying -something about bathing from a -boat, in which case he might be miles -away from the land. The green downs -stretched out invitingly before her; -looking so much cooler and less glaring -than the sandy beach sprinkled over -with nursemaids and children, so she -turned her steps in that direction. She -carried a magazine in her hand, and she -would go and sit on the cliffs she thought, -till three o’clock had struck and Frederick -had returned home again. A little chill -feeling ran over Jenny, as she took her -seat on the sward close to the edge of the -cliffs whence she could see and hear the -sparkling waves as they dashed over the -shingly beach, and she moved further -inland with a shudder.</p> - -<p>‘What an awful thing it would be,’ -she inwardly said, ‘if I were to fall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -over those cliffs now—<i>now</i>, in the very -hey-day of my youth and happiness. -To leave my Frederick just as I know -what it is to love him; just as I have -taken the bold step to unite myself -with him forever! Yet others have -done it; others, I suppose, with hopes -as high as mine, and with feelings as -strong. Oh, it must have been terrible! -terrible! The very idea makes my flesh -creep! I must be over-excited and -nervous to-day to think of such a silly -thing!’ and she drew herself further -and further away from the edge of the -cliff and tried to interest herself in her -book.</p> - -<p>It was about this time that Henry -Hindes, pale and anxious as to the issue -of his errand, walked into the vestibule -of the Castle Warden Hotel and asked -if Mrs Walcheren were at home. The -porter having referred to half-a-dozen -waiters in turn, at first said ‘yes,’ but -on Mr Hindes sending up his name for -admittance, the man returned to say he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> -had been mistaken, and neither Mr nor -Mrs Walcheren were indoors.</p> - -<p>‘Is it only an excuse, or is the lady -really not in?’ demanded Mr Hindes.</p> - -<p>‘She is really not at home, sir,’ was the -reply, ‘but I did not see her go out; I -suppose she went through the garden. -Mr Walcheren went out better than an -hour ago, for I saw him pass through the -hall myself.’</p> - -<p>‘Do you know when they are likely to -be in?’ next asked the visitor.</p> - -<p>‘I can’t say for certain, sir, but their -lunch is ordered for three o’clock.’</p> - -<p>‘Very well; I will return at three.’</p> - -<p>‘What name shall I say, sir?’</p> - -<p>‘You need say no name. I will send -it up on my return,’ said Henry Hindes -as he walked away.</p> - -<p>He was disappointed that he had not -found Jenny at home and alone, yet it -was hardly natural that a young husband -and wife should separate on the very -morning after their wedding-day. But -we are all apt to be unreasonable when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -our wishes are thwarted. However, he -made up his mind to call again at three -o’clock. Whether alone or together, he -could not return to Hampstead without -seeing Jenny, and delivering to her the -message with which her father had entrusted -him. So he must wile away the -intervening hours as best he could. He -stopped at the bar to have a brandy-and-soda, -not the first by several, that he had -taken that morning to build up his courage -for the coming interview, and sustain him -under the shock which the news of her -marriage had been to him. And then he -wandered forth into the town and took -his way idly up the very path to the -cliffs that Jenny had trodden before him. -He had not walked, slowly and clumsily, -for more than half an hour when he came -upon her, seated on the close-cropped -herbage, with her eyes fixed thoughtfully -upon the water, and her book lying unheeded -in her lap. Henry Hindes’ heart -gave a great leap and throb as he recognised -the lovely features, shaded by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -broad chip hat, trimmed with field flowers, -and the graceful figure of the beauty of -Hampstead. Here was an opportunity, -for which he had never hoped—to find -her thus alone and unoccupied, amidst the -glories of Nature, with her attention free -to listen to his pleadings on her parents’ -behalf. His involuntary exclamation as -he encountered her, caused Jenny to look -round, and the hot blush of shame that -flooded her face at seeing him proved -that she was not dead to the knowledge -that she had done something to blush for.</p> - -<p>‘Mr Hindes!’ she said, with a little -gasp as if of fear, ‘what has induced you -to follow me?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing but the heartiest interest in -your welfare, Jenny, you may be sure -of that! Did you think that we could -hear the news of your marriage at Hampstead -without emotion? It paralysed us, -Jenny! We could not believe it -without further proof—without your assurance -that it was undertaken of your own -free will.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p>‘My father is the proper person to put -such questions to me,’ replied Jenny, -proudly. ‘If he wished them answered, -why did he not come to Dover himself, -instead of sending you?’</p> - -<p>‘Your father could not come if he -wished it. Your letter has made him so -ill that he is not fit to leave home. I -dread what the effects of the shock may -be on him. Remember, he is no longer -a young man, sixty-two on his last birthday, -and you have robbed him of all he -had in life.’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t see that,’ replied Jenny, with -her old pertness, ‘I must have married -some day; I don’t suppose my father -meant to keep me single all my life, and -in such a matter, people are generally -left to choose for themselves.’</p> - -<p>‘Not when their choice is in direct -opposition to their parents’ wishes! -However, you have elected to fly in -their faces, and what’s done can’t be -undone. I visited the Earl’s Court -Registrar’s Office this morning, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> -found the ill news was, indeed, too true. -It, therefore, now only remains to be -seen what remedy there is for so sad -a state of affairs, and if you are prepared -to hear the proposal your father -has sent you by me.’</p> - -<p>He had made as though he were -about to throw himself on the grass -beside her, and, in order to avoid his -doing so, Jenny rose and moved a -few paces forward. Henry Hindes had, -therefore, no alternative but to walk -slowly by her side, and as she had -turned her face from the town, each -step took them further from it.</p> - -<p>‘If you have anything unpleasant -to tell me,’ she said, with a slight -laugh, ‘for goodness’ sake don’t make -it public property. Let us go further -up the cliffs, where our voices will -not reach any loiterers on the beach -below.’</p> - -<p>‘You can hardly expect my message -to be a very pleasant one, Jenny,’ -commenced Henry Hindes, as composedly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -as he knew how, ‘but it is -soon told. Mr Crampton refuses either -to write to or see you, unless you agree -to his conditions. When he received -your terrible news this morning, I was -afraid he would have a fit, it affected -him so dreadfully. As for your poor -mother and aunt, they are, I hear, in -utter despair. You have changed a -happy home, Jenny, into a house of -mourning.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, they should have been more -considerate of my feelings,’ said the -girl, in a low voice, but Mr Hindes -could detect signs of softening in it.</p> - -<p>‘They were considerate of them, they -intended to be considerate of them,’ -exclaimed Henry Hindes, ‘they only -told you the truth when they said that -Walcheren was not a fit man for you -to marry, that he was a gambler and -an evil liver—that—’</p> - -<p>‘Mr Hindes, you forget yourself,’ -cried the girl with newly acquired -dignity, ‘when you said those things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -the other day, you were speaking of -an acquaintance, to-day you are maligning -<i>my husband</i>!’</p> - -<p>‘I cannot help it! Were he twenty -times your husband, I must say what is -in my mind concerning him. You have -had your own way too long, Jenny, -and now you have taken it to your -ruin. But your father is willing to receive -you back as his daughter, on -one condition, and that is, that you -leave this man who has led you into -so grievous an error, and return to the -protection of your parents.’</p> - -<p>Jenny gazed at him as if he had been -a lunatic.</p> - -<p>‘Do I hear you rightly,’ she said, ‘or -are you mad? Leave my husband, -whom I have just married, leave the -man whom I love above all the world, -father and mother included, leave him -all alone and go back to Hampstead -to live a widowed life with my people! -Why, papa must have been tipsy to -propose such a thing. What had you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -been giving the old gentleman to make -him talk such nonsense? Surely you are -dreaming and have fancied it all.’</p> - -<p>‘Dreaming!’ echoed Hindes, indignantly; -‘is it dreaming to see your -father’s agony, to hear of your mother’s -tears? No, these things may be play -to you, Jenny, but they are death to -them. I have repeated your father’s -words just as he told them to me. “I -will never see her, nor speak, nor write -to her so long as life lasts,” he said, “and -I will never, under any circumstances, -receive that man into my house; but, if -Jenny will give him up and come back -to our protection, I will try and forgive -the past.” Jenny! think of what you -are resigning before you finally decide. -Mr Crampton is much richer than you -imagine. You will inherit nothing short -of fifteen to twenty thousand a year at -his death. And you were married illegally. -Mr Walcheren took a false -oath about your age, and this may be -set aside if you will only give your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -consent to it. Why, Jenny, you have -not been half clever enough! With your -beauty and prospective wealth, you should -have married into the aristocracy. Think -twice about it. Give up this man who -is not worthy of you, and you will make -twice as brilliant a marriage by-and-by.’</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The girl turned round upon him like a -fury.</p> - -<p>‘How dare you,’ she cried, ‘make -such an infamous proposal to me? I -don’t believe papa ever told you to say -so. I don’t believe he would have -thought of such a thing if you had not -put it into his head. You are not telling -me the truth, Mr Hindes. What spite -have you against me, that you are always -trying to put a spoke in my wheel in this -way. You never propose anything for my -pleasure, it is always something for my -pain. I believe you have taken a hatred -to me, you go against me so persistently.’</p> - -<p>‘<i>I</i>—I hate you, Jenny!’ stammered -Hindes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> - -<p>‘Yes, I feel sure you do, else why -should you be forever urging papa to do -something to displease me. I have seen it -for years past. Every obstacle that has -been thrown in my way has been by -your advice. What am I to you? Why -can’t you let me and my affairs alone?’</p> - -<p>‘Why can’t I let you alone? Why -am I for ever interesting myself in your -affairs?’ he repeated after her. ‘Cannot -you guess, Jenny; has no glimmer of the -truth reached your heart during all -these years? Well, then, I will tell you; -it is because I love you.’</p> - -<p>‘A nice way of loving,’ interposed the -girl sarcastically.</p> - -<p>‘Yes! you may laugh, but it will not -unmake the fact. I love you, Jenny, as -no one of your admirers has ever loved -you yet, love you with the fire and fervour -of a disappointed man, of one who knows, -and has known for years past, that his -love is of no avail, that it lives without -hope, but still lives, burning on—loving on—because -it can never die even if it would,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -because it would not die even if it could. -Oh! my darling! I have loved you for -years. Just give me one look of pity at -last.’</p> - -<p>But Jenny recoiled from him with a -shudder of disgust.</p> - -<p>‘How dare you! how <i>dare</i> you!’ she -panted; ‘and you pretend to be my friend, -you, a married man. Oh! you have made -me feel that I have sunk low indeed.’</p> - -<p>Her look of horror and her tone of contempt -stung Hindes more than a dozen -lashes from her hand would have done.</p> - -<p>‘Married!’ he exclaimed; ‘what has that -to do with a man’s feelings? Am I blind, -deaf, insensible, because I am married. -And what about your fine scoundrel over -there? You imagine he loves you. Yet, -what is he? A married man, and worse -than a married man, a thousand times over, -for he has left a poor girl who is, to all -intents and purposes, his wife, and a child -who has the right to call him father, to -break their hearts, and perhaps to starve -down at Luton, whilst he is philandering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> -after you. Ah! that has touched you, has -it?’ he continued almost savagely, as he -saw Jenny’s cheeks flush. ‘Well! it is the -solemn truth, as I can prove to you. And -she is not the only one either. Ask Philip -Walcheren! You are one of many, Jenny, -though you may wear the wedding-ring -upon your finger.’</p> - -<p>‘You lie!’ cried the girl vehemently; ‘I -am sure you lie, and I will tell my husband -every word you say, and he shall -punish you for them. You want to -frighten me, that is all—you are jealous of -my great happiness. I have always suspected -you were double-faced, and now I -know it. And I hate you—I hate you. -And I love my husband as much as I hate -you, and nothing shall ever separate us, try -as hard as you may. We will be together -and together and together, until death.’</p> - -<p>She turned, in all her beauty with a -mocking smile upon her lovely face, towards -him as she spoke, and stepped backwards -towards the edge of the cliff. Henry -Hindes’ first impulse was to catch her by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -the wrist to prevent her falling over. But -she wrenched it from his grasp.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t dare to touch me, you brute!’ -she cried excitedly. ‘You want to push me -over the cliff now, I suppose!’</p> - -<p>God! why did she say the word? Why -did she put the idea into his excited brain? -It had never entered his head before. He -had never thought of her but in kindness. -For years past, he had secretly cherished -her image, suffering himself to indulge in -beatific day-dreams of what his life might -have been had Jenny been destined to -spend it by his side—had permitted himself -to enjoy her presence, to bask in her -beauty, to be miserable when the thought -crossed his mind that some day he would -be assuredly called upon to relinquish her -to another man, but never had he done less -than love her. But now, as he held her in -his power, and she laughed derisively into -his face, whilst those words, ‘I hate you,’ -still rung on the air, something entered -into Henry Hindes that had never been -there before. A wild fury that she should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> -spurn him, her friend of years, and love -Frederick Walcheren—a mad despair that -he would never possess her beauty, and -that another had the legal right to gloat -over it night and day for all time—whilst -he stood apart, baffled and disappointed, -and then a desperate resolve to save her -from further contamination and himself -from a life-longing, and the devil, which is -in all of us, glared out of his eyes, as with -a single effort, hardly calculating what the -effects would be, acting more on the impulse -of what he <i>would do</i>, than of what -he <i>was doing</i>, he pushed the girl violently -from him and sent her light body hurling -over the stupendous abyss which separated -them from the beach below.</p> - -<p>It was done in a second, beyond power -of recall. This moment Jenny was standing -before him in her mocking loveliness—and -the next there was only a void, -and not even the impress of her footprints -on the short herbage where she had -stood.</p> - -<p>Henry Hindes remained motionless for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> -the space of half a minute, then sunk -down into a sitting position, and trembled -as if he were taken with an ague. He -did not look over the cliff to see what -had become of his victim. He knew but -too well! He had glanced over it before -he met her, and saw that it consisted of -an unbroken line of chalk cliffs, leading -precipitately to the shingly shore. He -knew what he should see if he looked -over, and he dared not look! He only -sat there and shook like an aspen leaf. -The clammy perspiration rose upon his -face, and stood in great beads upon his -brow, but he did not raise his hand to -wipe it away. He only remained dumb -and motionless and trembled. By-and-by -some instinct warned him that he ought -to move, to go back to the town, and that -it would not do for him to be found sitting -so close by. Upon this he tried to stand, -but found he could not, so turned round -and crawled away, for some distance, on -his hands and knees. A fresh breeze had -sprung up from the sea, and it revived<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -him sufficiently to enable him to stand -upon his feet, and to commence with a -tottering step to find his way back again. -As he did so, he hardly believed that -what had happened was real. He must -have drunk more than was good for him, -he thought, and it was a bad dream that -had overtaken him. But a backward -glance made the horrid truth too plain. -There was the barren cliff, deserted for -the time being, whilst all the world of -Dover was occupied on the beach, with -bathing or flirting or play. There was -the very spot where they had stood together -on the close grass, besprinkled -with pink thrift and stunted daisies—the -same irregular edge where she had -mocked him, whence he would have saved -her if she had let him, but where—</p> - -<p>‘I must pull myself together!’ thought -Henry Hindes, with a violent shudder; -‘this is not the time or place for me to -think about it! It was an awful accident, -but nothing more—I would not have injured -her for all the world, but it is an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -awkward time for it to have occurred, -and in my presence, too—and I must take -measures not to have my name implicated -in the affair!’</p> - -<p>He looked around with dimmed eyes -as he argued with himself, but, far or -near, he could perceive no one and no -thing, except a few sheep grazing on the -stunted herbage. Then he ventured near -the cliff—not with his eyes towards that -point where she had fallen, but turned -the other way, and he saw it was quite -deserted, the bathing population being at -the further end of the town. Not a soul -was on the beach, only a few boats were -drawn up high and dry, whilst several -more were dancing on the blue waters, -laden with fishing nets or pleasure-seekers. -The complete seclusion of the place imparted -a temporary confidence to him.</p> - -<p>‘For the children’s sake,’ he muttered -to himself, as he took his way downwards; -‘for Walter’s sake, and the others and -Hannah, I must be brave and calm and -not betray myself. Let me see! what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> -time is it? Three o’clock! and I said -I would return to the hotel about three. -Well! I mustn’t hurry, it will look bad! -I will go into a restaurant first and have -my dinner!’</p> - -<p>The thought of eating sickened him, -but he persevered, and, entering the principal -restaurant in the town, ordered an -expensive meal. But when it was served -he could not eat it. The food would have -choked him. Something seemed to have -closed in his throat and prevented his -swallowing.</p> - -<p>Presently an idea struck him. Calling -the waiter, he said,—</p> - -<p>‘I have some business to talk over -with a friend in this town, and, as my -time is short, I think it will facilitate -matters if we dine together. Lay another -plate and tell them to keep the dinner -back till I return. I am going round to -the hotel to fetch my friend. Keep the -champagne in ice. I shall not be absent -more than a few minutes.’</p> - -<p>He left the restaurant as he spoke, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -re-entered the vestibule of the Castle -Warden Hotel.</p> - -<p>‘Has Mrs Walcheren returned yet?’ he -inquired, in an unconcerned voice.</p> - -<p>‘No, sir; she has not. Mr Walcheren, -he came home about half an hour ago, -but he went out again. I really can’t -say when they’ll be back, sir!’</p> - -<p>Hindes took out his card and wrote -on it in a very shaky hand:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>‘I have called twice to-day to see you, -with a message from home, and hoped to -have persuaded you to lunch with me at -the Tivoli Restaurant; but my time is -up, and I must return to town. Will -write in a day or two.</p> - -<p> -H. H.’<br> -</p> -</div> - -<p>‘Give this to Mrs Walcheren on her -return, please,’ he said to the waiter, -and took his way, as best he could, back -to the Tivoli.</p> - -<p>There he forced himself to eat a little -and drink a good deal, and, calling for -the bill, gave the waiter a liberal<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> -tip, and departed in a cab to the -station.</p> - -<p>He had done all he could. He -should tell the Cramptons, he had called -twice to interview Mrs Walcheren and -been unsuccessful each time, and he had -waited about Dover till four o’clock. It -was Saturday, and he could not spend -Sunday away from his wife and children. -They would surely say that he had done -all that was necessary, and more than they -had required from him. He had tried to -see her twice, and he had failed; they must -wait now until Jenny wrote to them herself.</p> - -<p>‘<i>Until Jenny wrote to them herself!</i>’ -As the thought crossed his mind, Henry -Hindes sunk back into the corner of the -railway carriage, in the same comatose -state in which he had been on the -downs. The train flew screeching -through the evening air, on its way to -London, but time and place were alike -unheeded by him.</p> - -<p>Had it been a dream—an unholy, lurid -nightmare—or was it reality?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> - -<p>When he reached ‘The Old Hall,’ it -was nine o’clock. He told his wife he -had stayed to dine in town, but, in truth, -he had been wandering about the -streets, hardly conscious of what he was -doing, until the time warned him that -each hour he delayed would make it -more difficult to account for his prolonged -absence. So he dragged himself -home, and the effort he made to -look like a man who was rather disgusted -for having been foolish enough -to take a lot of trouble for nothing, sat -upon him much as a clown’s paint would -sit upon a corpse. Hannah was naturally -all sympathy for his disappointment -and failure, and Hindes was compelled -to take refuge in gruffness, to elude her -searching inquiries.</p> - -<p>‘My dearest, how ill you look, and -how tired you seem. This has been a -trying day for you, I am sure. So -fond as you are of dear Jenny, too. -And did you really not see her?’</p> - -<p>‘I have told you already half-a-dozen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> -times, Hannah, that I called twice at -the Castle Warden Hotel to see her, -but she was out each time, so was he, -so there was nothing to be done but -to return home. I did not relish the -idea of wasting a Sunday in hanging -about Dover, perhaps with the same result, -when I might be at home with -you and the chicks.’</p> - -<p>‘Dear Henry,’ said his wife, ‘you -are always so considerate of us. Still, -for Jenny’s sake—if it were to lead to -a reconciliation between her and her -parents, I would give you up for even -a longer time than that. You might -have written her a letter, Henry, though.’</p> - -<p>‘I <i>did</i> write, just a scribble on my -card, to say I had hoped to get her -to lunch with me at the Tivoli Restaurant, -when we could have talked the -unhappy matter over together; indeed, -I had ordered lunch for two, but she -was not in and they couldn’t say when -she would be in, so I was obliged reluctantly -to come back without seeing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -her. But I don’t suppose it would have -been of any use. What girl would give -up her lover the day after her wedding? -It was a mad scheme, and quixotic in -me to set out on such an errand.’</p> - -<p>‘No; don’t say that dear, for I am -sure the old people will be glad hereafter, -to think that you did all you -could to bring them together.’</p> - -<p>Henry Hindes started.</p> - -<p>‘“Hereafter?”’ he echoed; ‘what do -you mean by “hereafter?”’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing, my dearest, only you surely -do not think the Cramptons will hold -out for ever, do you? And, when they -are reconciled to Jenny and we are all -happy again, I am sure they will be -pleased to remember (and so will she), -that <i>you</i> were the first to try and bring -them together.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, yes, yes! I see!’ replied her -husband, as he passed his handkerchief -over his brow.</p> - -<p>‘Poor Mrs Crampton and Miss Bostock -were over here this afternoon,’ continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -Mrs Hindes. ‘They said they -should go mad if they had no one to -talk to about it. I don’t think they -are half so angry with Jenny as her -father is. Of course, they say she has -been very naughty, and her papa is -quite right not to forgive her in a -hurry, but they evidently think in the -long run, he will find he cannot live -without her. “It would be ridiculous,” -Mrs Crampton said, “and most wicked -if they cast off their only child, however -wrong she might be.” She is afraid -it will be a long time before Mr Crampton -forgives Mr Walcheren or consents to -receive him at “The Cedars,” because of -his being a Papist, but as for their darling, -she declared if papa did not ask her up -next week, she should go down to -Dover to see her herself. I believe -there is a great deal more in the old -lady than we have given her credit for, -Henry, and that she will have her own -way in this matter, whatever her husband -may say. But you are not feeling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -well, dear, surely? I never remember to -have seen you look so white before. Are -you sure that you made a good dinner -in town? Or will you have a brandy-and-soda? -You must have something, -your looks quite frighten me.’</p> - -<p>Mr Hindes pulled himself together -and sat straight up on the sofa.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t be a fool,’ he began, but, seeing -the consternation which his rudeness -evoked, he added, ‘don’t worry me, -Hannah. This has been a very fatiguing -day, and, I may say, a very distressing -one into the bargain. I cannot look -on this matter in the same bright light -as you do. Mrs Crampton may be very -brave and determined, but she has her -match in her husband, and I never -knew him to go from his word yet. -And the girl inherits her determination -from him. I do not believe she was -from home when I called to-day. I -believe I was denied on purpose. They -anticipated my errand, naturally, and declined -to have a scene, which there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -undoubtedly would have been if Mr -Walcheren and I had been brought in -contact. I believe the young man to -be a regular scoundrel, and I should -have told him so. After which, I suppose, -I should never have spoken to -either of them again.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, I don’t believe Jenny would -really quarrel with you, whatever you -said, Henry. She is too fond of you -for that. She is an impetuous little -creature and says a great deal more -than she means, but she has often told -me how highly she thinks of your friendship, -and how she felt sure that, whatever -happened, <i>you</i> would always stick -by her and help her out of all her -scrapes.’</p> - -<p>‘There, there, hold your tongue, that -will do!’ exclaimed her husband, as he -rose and walked slowly towards the -door. ‘I want to see my boy before -I sleep to-night,’ and he took his way, -closely followed by his wife, to the -nursery.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> - -<p>The two little girls were very pretty -creatures, who combined the best points -in both father and mother, but the boy, -by one of these freaks of Nature which -have been mentioned before, was like -neither of them, but rejoiced in a particularly -ugly mug of his own invention. -He lay asleep in a magnificent cot which -his father had had carved for him on the -occasion of his birth, covered with a finely -embroidered quilt; his black eyes were -closed, but his little snub nose, swarthy -complexion, and wide mouth, formed a -sorry contrast to the lace and linen which -enveloped them. No prince of the realm -could have been more luxuriously surrounded -than was Master Walter Hindes. -His sisters were lying in their beds close -by, their fair hair straying over their -pillows, but their father hardly glanced -at them as he crossed the room and bent -over the carved cot at the further end. -As he gazed at his sleeping son and heir, -all the stolid feelings of despair which had -occupied his mind during the day seemed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -to fade away and leave a wealth of passionate -love behind them. He stooped down -closely and laid his face against that of -the slumbering child.</p> - -<p>‘My son, my son,’ he murmured, but -as the words left his lips, though heard by -no one but himself, a vision of Jenny’s face -rose before him—of Jenny’s mocking face, -as she stood on the edge of the precipice -and defied him—and, with a sudden impulse, -he drew forth his silk handkerchief -and wiped his kiss off his child’s brow.</p> - -<p>‘What is that for, my dear?’ asked -Mrs Hindes, with a low laugh.</p> - -<p>‘A fly—a gnat—’ he stammered, ‘it -might disturb Wally in his sleep,’ and he -withdrew, at the same moment, from the -child’s bed.</p> - -<p>‘Won’t you look at Elsie and Laurie?’ -whispered the mother, as she passed her -arm through his, and pulled him gently -towards the girls’ bed. ‘They have been -such good maids all day; I took them -with me for a drive to call on old Miss -Buckstone this afternoon, and she was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -delighted with them; she wants us to let -them go and spend a whole day with -her.’</p> - -<p>‘And not Wally?’ said Henry Hindes, -quickly.</p> - -<p>‘Well, she did not ask Master Wally, -and she would regret it, I fancy, if she -did. He is rather a handful away from -home, dearest, you know, and too much -used to have his own way; we really must -not spoil him so much, or he may come to -the same sad end as poor Jenny.’</p> - -<p>‘What sad end? What do you mean -by saying that?’ demanded Henry Hindes, -for the second time that evening.</p> - -<p>‘Why, marry without our consent, to -be sure, Henry; what else could I mean? -Though I hope her marriage may have -a happy ending after all. I shall always -believe in it and pray for it, until it comes -to pass.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes, pray for it, Hannah,’ replied -her husband. ‘I don’t believe much in -prayer myself, but if anybody should ever -be heard, it is you! You have been a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> -good wife to me, my dear, I seem to see -it more plainly to-night than I have ever -done before.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah! that’s because of this trouble -about poor Jenny; it has regularly upset -us all. Shall you go over and see the -Cramptons to-night, Harry?’</p> - -<p>‘No, no, I couldn’t. I have had enough -bother already,’ replied Hindes, shrinking -from the idea.</p> - -<p>‘Of course, and perhaps they will not -expect it; but you must write to them, -for they will be anxiously expecting to -hear some news of your journey.’</p> - -<p>‘So they will,’ he answered, as if the -idea had only just struck him; ‘well, I -will not write, I will go,’ and he rose -to get his hat and stick, then suddenly -turning to Hannah, he added,—‘it’s a fine -night, will you go with me?’</p> - -<p>She looked surprised at the request, -but answered readily,—</p> - -<p>‘With pleasure, dear, if you will wait -whilst I put on my hat and mantle.’</p> - -<p>The brief walk to ‘The Cedars’ was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> -accomplished in silence, but, as they -reached the house, Hindes said to his -wife,—</p> - -<p>‘Don’t repeat anything I told you; -leave me to tell my own story, I want -to save them as much pain as possible.’</p> - -<p>They found the three old people sitting -together and looking very forlorn. Mr -Crampton had recovered his temper of -the morning, and was seated in an arm-chair, -huddled up behind his newspaper, -and professed to take no interest in the -conversation that ensued. The two -women flew at Henry Hindes as soon -as he appeared.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, dear Mr Hindes! did you see -her? What news do you bring us? -Do not keep us in suspense; we implore -you! Is she well? What did she -say?’</p> - -<p>‘My dear friends,’ he answered, with -assumed jocularity; ‘one at a time, if -you please, and you must prepare yourselves -for a disappointment. I haven’t -seen her at all! I called twice at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> -hotel and they were out each time. -What else could we expect? I’m afraid -I went down on a wild goose chase. -Such a lovely day! Where should a -bride and bridegroom be but out of -doors! I am afraid we must have -patience till next week. Then, if Mr -Crampton wishes it, I will go down -again and make a second attempt to -interview them.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, dear, dear; I <i>am</i> disappointed,’ -sighed Mrs Crampton; ‘for I feel sure, -if you had seen darling Jenny, that all -would have been right!’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t talk nonsense,’ interposed her -husband. ‘How can anything be right -again since she has elected to marry -that scoundrel? The jade has made -her own bed, and she may lie on it, -and I hope it’ll be a deuced hard one, -too!’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t say that,’ replied Henry Hindes, -quickly; ‘if it should be hard it is not -<i>you</i> that will make it so! I scribbled -a line to her on my card to say I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -brought her a message from home, so, -if I am not very much mistaken, you -will receive another letter from her before -long.’</p> - -<p>‘Dear Mr Hindes, how can we ever -thank you enough for the trouble you -have taken on our behalf,’ said Mrs -Crampton, as she slid her slender hand -in his; ‘you are the truest and best -friend we have. God bless you!’</p> - -<p>But he could not stand the gentle -pressure of her hand, nor the grateful -intonation of her voice.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t speak about it, please!’ he -answered, pulling his hand out of hers -almost roughly; ‘I wish—I wish I could -have done more, but—but—Come! -Hannah!’ he exclaimed, interrupting -himself; ‘we must go home! It is late, -and my two journeys have tired me. -Good-night, Mrs Crampton! Good-night -to everybody! we must leave the further -discussion of the matter to another time,’ -and, with a hasty nod all round, he left -the room.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> - -<p>He did appear very tired when they -reached their home, very exhausted and -overdone, but his condition did not tend -to give him a good night’s rest. On -the contrary, long after Hannah had -sunk into the dreamless sleep which -waits on a good conscience joined to a -good digestion, her unhappy husband -lay wide awake staring into the darkness, -and starting at every shadow that -lurked in the corners of the room.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Amongst Frederick Walcheren’s varied -accomplishments, swimming held a prominent -position. From a child he had -exercised this most useful of all practices, -until he was as much at home in the -water as on land. And on that fatal -Saturday there was every inducement for -him to spend a long time in his favourite -occupation. The day was transcendently -beautiful; the sea was sparkling with -electricity and warm as a tepid bath; -and the beach was crowded with spectators, -eager to watch and applaud the -various feats of natation which he performed. -He was in good temper with -himself and the world, poor fellow! and -anxious to give them all the pleasure in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -his power. So he remained in the warm, -exhilarating water as long as possible, -performing all sorts of extraordinary dives -and plunges and strange modes of swimming, -whilst the people on the shore were -full of admiration for his skill. At last he -felt he had had about enough of it for the -present, and dressed to return to the hotel. -As he descended the steps of his machine, -a young man of ordinary appearance, who -was apparently waiting for him, came forward.</p> - -<p>‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he began, ‘but, -from witnessing your feats of skill in the -water, I presume you are a swimming -master, and should like to know your -terms for a course of lessons.’</p> - -<p>Frederick laughed heartily at the idea, -but he was not snob enough to be offended -by the young man’s mistake.</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, I wish I were anything half -so useful,’ he replied; ‘but I am only an -amateur like yourself. Swimming is not -at all difficult; it only requires pluck and -practice. Anyone could attain my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> -proficiency if he cared to take the -trouble.’</p> - -<p>‘You’ll forgive me for mentioning it, -sir?’ said the stranger, who feared he -might have offended him.</p> - -<p>‘With all my heart. There was no -harm in asking,’ replied Frederick, as he -heard the town clock strike three, and -hastened towards the hotel. He reached -it, almost running, and, going breathlessly -upstairs, threw open the door of their -sitting-room. But Jenny was not there. -A waiter was employed putting the last -touches to the luncheon-table, which was -evidently only waiting their return to be -spread with the noonday meal.</p> - -<p>‘Where is Mrs Walcheren?’ inquired -Frederick.</p> - -<p>‘I don’t know, sir,’ replied the stolid -waiter, as he continued putting out cruets -and water bottles.</p> - -<p>Frederick ran up to their bedroom, -which was on an upper floor, and finding -that also empty, put on his straw -hat again and descended to the vestibule.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p> - -<p>‘Has my wife—Mrs Walcheren, gone -out?’ he asked of the porter.</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir, I really can’t say. There’s -been a gentleman asking that question -here already, but I couldn’t give him -no satisfaction. I suppose the lady must -be out, because we can’t find her nowhere, -but none of us see her pass -through the hall, and I’ll take my oath -she hasn’t come in, for I’ve never left -my post one minute. Perhaps she went -to the beach to you, sir.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh, doubtless, but about the gentleman -who called to see her, what was -his name?’</p> - -<p>‘He didn’t leave no name, sir, but -said he would call again.’</p> - -<p>‘What was he like? Short and stout -and middle-aged, with rather a red complexion, -eh?’</p> - -<p>He concluded at once that it must -have been Mr Crampton, who had followed -his daughter on the receipt of -her letter that morning.</p> - -<p>‘Well, not very red in the face, sir,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -but stoutish certainly, and not over tall.’</p> - -<p>‘I know him,’ replied Frederick, thinking -he did. ‘If he comes again during -my absence, ask him to walk upstairs -and wait until we return.’</p> - -<p>‘All right, sir.’</p> - -<p>Of course it was Mr Crampton, he -thought. It could be no one else, and -he must be by Jenny’s side when their -encounter took place. If old Crampton -thought that, by right of his paternity, -he would bully Jenny, he was very -much mistaken. He would have to -answer to her husband first. He went -back to the beach, thinking he should -find her amongst all the nursemaids, -children, serenaders and fruit-sellers, and -was prepared to meet her with a little -scolding for exposing herself to the heat -of the day and the vulgarities of the -Dover sands. But she was not there. -The beach was almost deserted now, -for the babies and their attendants had -gone back to their lodgings to early -dinner, and the serenaders were performing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -in front of the ‘pubs,’ in hopes -of earning a meal. There would have -been no difficulty in discerning Jenny’s -distinguished little figure on the long -line of sand and shingle, but it was -evident she was not there. Where could -the minx have hidden herself? Frederick -was a little inclined to feel cross, although -it <i>was</i> the first day of their married life, -because Jenny had so decidedly said -she would rather not go out that morning, -and, if she had not done so, he -should not have left her to herself. -Could she have ventured into the town? -She had come away so hurriedly, that -she might have found herself in want -of some trifling article that she had -forgotten and gone to the shops to -procure it. He turned his steps, therefore, -in that direction, but saw her nowhere -in the streets. He even asked -one or two pedestrians if they had met -a young lady in a broad-brimmed hat -trimmed with poppies and grasses, but -they all shook their heads. Frederick<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -wandered about the streets for some -time, and then resolved to go back -to the hotel. After all, Jenny was -not a baby. She had been well used -to look after herself, and had a watch -to tell her the proper time to return. -It was more than likely she was already -at the Castle Warden. His first inquiry -on re-entering was naturally for her.</p> - -<p>‘No, sir, the lady ain’t been in yet,’ -was the disappointing reply, ‘but the -gentleman as I spoke of, he came again -and left his card.’</p> - -<p>‘Where is it?’ said Frederick, eagerly, -and was handed the one which Henry -Hindes had left behind him.</p> - -<p>‘Did you ask him to wait and see us?’ -he inquired.</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I -had gone for my dinner and didn’t see -the gentleman this time, but William tells -me he seemed in a great hurry like, and -didn’t ask to wait, but said he had no -time to come again to-day, as he had to -catch a train for London.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> - -<p>‘Oh, very well, it is of no consequence,’ -replied Frederick Walcheren rather testily. -‘Tell them not to serve luncheon until Mrs -Walcheren returns. She cannot be many -minutes now.’</p> - -<p>But it was many many minutes before -she came back to the hotel. Frederick -went upstairs to their sitting-room, and -tried to occupy his mind with newspapers, -and persuade himself that he was not -particularly anxious for his wife’s return. -But there is nothing more irritating than -to be kept in suspense, especially for a -trifle. He could not help wondering -where Jenny had gone to, and why she -had gone, and why the dickens she hadn’t -come back again! If the stranger who -had inquired for her had not left a -proof that he was Mr Henry Hindes -instead of Mr Crampton, he should have -almost fancied that she had been silly -enough to have been lured away again -by her father. But that was folly! Jenny -was his wife; by love and by law. No -one could ever take her from him again<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -unless that quibble about her age would -be considered sufficient to annul the -marriage. But the next moment he -laughed at the idea. Mr Crampton -would surely never be such a fool as -to take advantage of a loop-hole that -would bring disgrace upon his daughter’s -name! How foolish he was to let so -absurd an idea worry him!</p> - -<p>But why the deuce didn’t Jenny come -back? It was now four o’clock. This -was carrying a joke too far. She couldn’t -possibly have lost her way in such a -place as Dover. Besides, she wasn’t the -sort of girl to lose her way! Even if -she had broken her leg, or done any unlikely -thing of that sort, she would have -had the nous to call assistance, or send -him a message to say what was the matter. -The only solution of the mystery -that he could think of, was that she had -gone for a walk and wandered so far -away that she was too tired to walk -home quicker. But why, in that case, -had she not procured some vehicle to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> -convey her back again. The more -Frederick thought of it, the more puzzled -he became. When five o’clock struck, -he went out of doors for the second time, -and ran all over the place, making inquiries -of everybody he met. One girl -said she had seen a very pretty young -lady at about one o’clock that afternoon, -walking towards the cliffs. She particularly -noticed that she wore a large -chip hat with scarlet poppies in it, and -a white dress. She had a book in her -hand, and she went up that way, continued -his informant, pointing in the -direction of the grassy downs. Frederick -thanked her and commenced running off -in the direction she had intimated. Of -course, he said to himself, the cool breezy -downs would be far more likely to attract -Jenny than the hot beach. How foolish -it was of him not to have thought of that -before! He walked rapidly straight -ahead of him for three or four miles, -and then stopped to consider what he -was doing. Jenny was not there! He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -could see from end to end of the broad -wide expanse, and a sheep would have -been visible to the naked eye. What -was the use of his rushing about in that -aimless manner, after a full-grown woman. -Jenny was such a spoilt child, the Lord -only knew whether she might not be -playing a practical joke on him all this -time, and hiding away for her own -pleasure to see how much she could -frighten him. He had been far wiser -to eat his luncheon in comfort and let -the young lady see that that sort of -trick would not do with him. He was -beginning to feel a little angry and hurt -by this time. It was not good manners, -to say the least of it—it showed a lack -of good feeling and good taste to make -him look like a fool in the eyes of the -hotel servants, so soon after their wedding-day. -He should give up the search as -a bad job, and return to the Castle -Warden and rest. Without doubt, she -would come in for her dinner.</p> - -<p>He gained the hotel again, but still<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -no news had been heard of the missing -lady. By this time every menial in -the house knew that the bride (for when -can people ever hide the glaring fact -that they were married yesterday?) had -played truant, designedly or otherwise, -and many were the conjectures as to her -reason for making herself so conspicuous. -Meanwhile, Frederick Walcheren -sat in his own apartments, by turns angry, -impatient, anxious and despairing. He -hardly took heed how the time went on. -Every moment he expected to hear the -sound of Jenny’s footstep running up the -staircase—to hear her merry voice telling -him the reason of her extraordinary -absence—to feel her arms round his neck -and her lips pleading for forgiveness. -But the hours went on till seven and -eight o’clock had struck, and still she -was not there. As the last hour sounded -Frederick heard a low tap on his door; -he was not in the mood to see strangers -or talk with them, but he cried, ‘Come -in!’ The door opened, and the landlord<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -of the Castle Warden entered and closed -it securely behind him.</p> - -<p>‘I beg your pardon, sir,’ he commenced, -‘but I am told that your lady has not -come home, and that you are rather -uneasy about her.’</p> - -<p>‘Well, I am, naturally,’ replied -Frederick, ‘in fact, I don’t know what -the devil to think about her absence. -It is most extraordinary! I went out -to bathe this morning, leaving Mrs -Walcheren here, and when I returned -she was gone. No one saw her go out, -nor can I hear any news of her, except -from a little girl, who says she met her -walking in the direction of the cliffs, -about one o’clock this afternoon. I have -been all over the cliffs, and the town, -and the beach, but can neither see nor -hear anything more. What should you -advise me to do, Mr Cameron? I am -nearly distracted with anxiety.’</p> - -<p>‘The lady was seen going towards the -cliffs,’ said the landlord, musingly, ‘our -cliffs are not very safe for strangers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -I hope there has not been an accident.’</p> - -<p>At this Frederick leapt from his seat -as if he had been shot.</p> - -<p>‘My God! man,’ he cried, ‘what do -you mean? You cannot think it possible -that—that—’</p> - -<p>He tried to finish the sentence, but -failed.</p> - -<p>‘Indeed, sir, I meant nothing but that -we must look at all possible contingencies -if we are to find the young lady. It -is a long time for her to be away, and, -if I mistake not (though I hope you will -excuse my mentioning it), the day after -her wedding.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes; I don’t care who knows it,’ -replied Frederick in a voice of pain. ‘We -were only married yesterday, that makes -this all the more mysterious and extraordinary; -but how are we to ascertain -the truth? What am I to do?’</p> - -<p>‘If you will allow me, sir, I will send -some of the boatmen who know the cliffs -to search for Mrs Walcheren, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> -will soon relieve your suspense, for if she -is there they will find her safe enough.’</p> - -<p>‘By all means; I ought to have thought -of it myself. Thank you, Mr Cameron; -pray send for the boatmen as soon as -possible, and I will accompany them.’</p> - -<p>Mr Cameron looked dubious.</p> - -<p>‘If you will permit me, sir, to advise -you, I should say stay here, in case of -your being wanted, or other news arriving.’</p> - -<p>But Frederick was not to be persuaded.</p> - -<p>‘Stay here!’ he echoed; ‘what on -earth should I do that for? My place -is with the men who are going to find -her. She has lost her way, probably, -and is wandering about in the dark. -Of course, I shall accompany them.’</p> - -<p>But the landlord kept his back firmly -against the door, and prevented the -young man passing out.</p> - -<p>‘You will forgive me, sir, but you -must not go—not just yet—not till I -have said something. I have been trying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -to break it to you, Mr Walcheren, -but I am afraid I have done it badly. -They <i>have</i> found her, sir. She was -found hours ago, and I came to tell -you so.’</p> - -<p>Frederick Walcheren stared at him, -as if he thought he was mad.</p> - -<p>‘<i>Found!</i>’ he ejaculated, ‘and hours -ago. What do you mean? Why has -she not come home then? Is she injured—hurt? -Has any accident happened -to her?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, sir, there has indeed, and you -must try and bear it like a man. The -lady has been hurt—badly—and she -was found on the beach by two boatmen -at five o’clock, or thereabouts.’</p> - -<p>‘Hurt! my darling. Oh! my God! -this is hard,’ exclaimed Frederick, in -a voice of anguish. ‘But where is she? -Why have they not brought her here? -Why did they not send for me?’</p> - -<p>‘Well, sir, they did not know where -the lady belonged at first, nor who she -was, so they carried her to the nearest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -public-house; “The Bottle and Spurs,” -which is half-way down the cliffs to -the town.’</p> - -<p>‘A public-house!’ cried Walcheren, -indignantly; ‘how dared they take a -lady there? What was Mrs Walcheren -about, to consent to it? Order a carriage -at once, if you please, Mr Cameron, and -I will go and fetch her home.’</p> - -<p>The landlord fidgeted with the handle -of the door.</p> - -<p>‘Well, you see, sir, I am not sure -if the authorities will allow of her -removal. It’s the usual thing, under -the circumstances, you see, and sorry -as I should be to disoblige you, I’m -afraid my customers might object to -her being brought here. “The Bottle -and Spurs” is a very respectable house, -sir, and everything will be done, I feel -sure, as can be done, to make things -as little unpleasant for you as possible, -but the authorities—’</p> - -<p>Still the unhappy man did not understand -the extent of his calamity. He sat<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> -down again and passed his hand wearily -through his hair.</p> - -<p>‘What does it all mean?’ he muttered in -a dazed manner. ‘At all events order -the carriage and send for the best doctor -in the town to accompany me.’</p> - -<p>‘The doctor is here sir,’ replied the landlord, -quickly, ‘ready to speak to you. Dr -M‘Coll, one of our most skilful practitioners.’</p> - -<p>Then he opened the door, and called -out, ‘Will you step up, doctor, please, the -gentleman is ready to see you,’ and in -another minute a middle-aged kindly-looking -man entered the room and went up to -Walcheren’s side.</p> - -<p>‘Doctor!’ said Frederick faintly, ‘what -is all this about? I don’t understand it. -Have you seen my wife? Is she much -hurt?’</p> - -<p>‘She is not suffering now, my dear sir,’ -replied the doctor.</p> - -<p>‘Thank God for that. But why did you -not bring her home? I have been in such -awful suspense all the afternoon.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> - -<p>‘I am sure you must have been, but now -I am going to take you to see her. Here, -Mr Cameron, a glass of brandy for Mr -Walcheren. No! no soda thanks. I want -him to take it as it is.’</p> - -<p>He held the liquor to Frederick’s lips, -who drank it at a draught, and put down -the wine-glass with a deep sigh.</p> - -<p>‘You must nerve yourself to hear what -I have to tell you,’ said Dr M‘Coll firmly. -‘I told you your wife no longer suffered, -it is because she has gone beyond the -reach of suffering. She had been dead for -hours before the boatmen found her.’</p> - -<p>The young man sprung from his seat -with the one word on his lips—‘DEAD!’ -He stared at his informant for a moment -wildly, and then sinking down on his chair -again, threw his arms over his stricken face -and burst into a storm of tears.</p> - -<p>‘Leave him alone,’ whispered the doctor -to the landlord; ‘they will save his brain.’ -But the next minute Frederick leapt up, -and, seizing Dr M‘Coll by the arm, exclaimed,—<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<p>‘Take me to her. Don’t let us lose a -moment. Oh, my God! my darling, my -darling!’</p> - -<p>He tore down the staircase as he spoke, -closely followed by the landlord and the -doctor. The waiters and chambermaids, -who were hanging about the passages discussing -the awful event that had occurred, -made way respectfully for him as he appeared, -and looked after the bereaved -bridegroom with melancholy interest. But -Frederick might have passed through the -ranks of a regiment at that moment without -perceiving them. There was but one -idea in his brain—to get as quickly as he -could to the side of his beloved. He had -heard distinctly what the doctor said, but -he did not realise that Jenny was dead—that -she would never speak to him, nor -smile at him, nor kiss him any more. The -drive to the public-house was performed -in mournful silence, and when they reached -it they were at once taken through the -bar to a back room, where on a table was -placed, just as she had been found, all that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -was left of sweet Jenny Walcheren. Her -chip hat, so fresh and pretty in the morning, -was still attached to her hair, by a long pin -with a butterfly at the end of it, but it was -crushed and forced back upon her head by -the awful fall she had sustained. Her -white dress had been decently composed -about her young limbs; she might have -almost have deceived one into the belief -that she was sleeping, except for the purple -lips which were drawn off the white teeth, -and a dark blue bruise over the right eye, -where her temple had struck the cruel -rocks. But Frederick saw nothing but -that he had regained his wife, and falling -on her body, covered it with kisses, imploring -her by every fond entreaty he could -frame, to open her eyes once more and -look at him, and to unclose her bruised -and livid lips and speak his name. At -last his madness calmed down a little, leaving -a dull despair behind it, when he turned -to the doctor and said,—</p> - -<p>‘Tell me, for mercy’s sake, how did it -happen?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> - -<p>‘We are as much in the dark as you -are, my dear young friend,’ replied Dr -M‘Coll, ‘all we know is, that two Deal -boatmen, Jackson and Barnes by name, -went to the lower beach after their boats, -which are drawn up there, at five this -afternoon, and found the poor lady lying -under the cliffs, over which there is no -doubt she must have fallen, but how, -there is nothing to tell. They did not -know her name, so carried her here and -sent for me. But I could do nothing. -She must have been dead for two or three -hours before I saw her. When I was -convinced of that, I set inquiries on foot, -to find out who she was, and they soon -led me to the Castle Warden Hotel.’</p> - -<p>‘It wasn’t easy to mistake her,’ interposed -Mr Cameron, whose own eyes -were suspiciously red; ‘the prettiest -bride, as everyone says, we have had in -the hotel for the last twelve month.’</p> - -<p>‘Don’t, don’t,’ said Frederick, in a -voice of the keenest pain. ‘Doctor, -how shall we take her back? She shall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -not lie here! I must take her to the -hotel at once.’</p> - -<p>‘My dear Mr Walcheren, even if that -were admissible, it would not be permitted. -The body must not be touched -until after the inquest, which, unfortunately, -cannot be held till Monday.’</p> - -<p>‘She must lie here on this rough table, -within sound of those rough voices, for -forty-eight hours? Oh, impossible! I -will not allow it!’</p> - -<p>‘My dear sir, you must allow it! -It is the law! This poor young lady -has met her death in a mysterious -manner, and, until the police have evidence -that it was an accident, they will -not, in the cause of justice, permit the -body to be tampered with.’</p> - -<p>‘An accident! but how could it be -anything but an accident?’ said Frederick, -staring at the doctor.</p> - -<p>‘I have no doubt myself whatever in -the matter; but the law must be satisfied. -Meanwhile, let me persuade you, -Mr Walcheren, to return to the hotel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> -and try and calm yourself. You can do -no good by remaining here, and I will -engage that every respect shall be paid -to her remains.’</p> - -<p>‘<i>I</i> go away,’ said Frederick, in a -broken voice, ‘and leave her lying here? -Oh, no; you mistake me! It is impossible! -If I may not take her away yet, -I shall stay by her till I can! Nothing -shall persuade me to leave her, my -darling little wife!’ and he took one of -her dead hands and kissed it fondly as -he spoke.</p> - -<p>‘If you are determined—’ began Dr -M‘Coll.</p> - -<p>‘I am determined, and nothing will -shake my determination. Here I remain -till they take my angel from me. But -is an inquest imperative? I cannot -bear to think of it! It is such an indignity—such -a public insult! A body -of strangers, men, too, whom I would -not have allowed in her presence whilst -living, to be admitted to view her remains. -I am rich, doctor! Can no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> -payment of money avert this outrage?’</p> - -<p>‘Nothing can avert it, Mr Walcheren; -but I will take care it is conducted as -quietly as possible. Remember, it is in -the cause of justice; and now, what can -I do for you? Can I wire the sad -news to any of her relatives, or yours? -You should have your own friends near -you in this trial.’</p> - -<p>Frederick turned and seized the doctor’s -hands as if he were a child, clinging to him -in his trouble.</p> - -<p>‘Advise me, tell me what to do,’ he -said. ‘I am unfit to think for the best. -My head is all in a maze. Doctor, I must -tell you the truth. This was a runaway -marriage. She was an only child, and -her parents doated on her. I dare not -think what they will say. How am I to -break it to them? Ought I to go myself?’</p> - -<p>‘I don’t think they would let you leave -Dover until after the inquest, Mr Walcheren, -but your late wife’s relations should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -certainly be told at once. If you wish it, -to-morrow being a free day with me, I -will go and break the sad intelligence to -them.’</p> - -<p>‘It will greatly relieve me if you will. -And every expense, you know doctor—’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes. We need not mention that -at present. When you have strength to -write down the names and addresses, I -will make my arrangements.’</p> - -<p>‘And what about the gentleman who -called twice to see Mrs Walcheren to-day?’ -inquired the landlord. ‘Is he a relation -of hers?’</p> - -<p>‘No, curse him!’ said Frederick unthinkingly.</p> - -<p>The doctor and the landlord glanced at -one another.</p> - -<p>‘I have <i>his</i> name and address on his -card,’ whispered Mr Cameron significantly -to his companion. ‘I fancy he will be -subpœnaed. He may have seen the poor -lady after she left the hotel.’</p> - -<p>‘What are you whispering about?’ said -Frederick irritably.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span></p> - -<p>‘Nothing, sir. I will speak to the -people of the house. I know them well, -and they will see you have everything you -may want.’</p> - -<p>‘And I will communicate with you -directly I return to Dover,’ added the -doctor.</p> - -<p>And so they left him to his vigil, with -his hand clasping the hand of his dead -wife, and his face bowed down till it was -lost in the folds of her dress.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The next morning Henry Hindes received -a scrawl, in a hand which he -could not recognise as that of Mr -Crampton’s, containing but three words, -‘Come to me.’</p> - -<p>He guessed at once what they meant. -He had just returned from church with -his wife and elder children. He had -not dared to refuse to go, for he was -a regular attendant there, and the omission -would have looked peculiar. So -he had stood and knelt and sat through -a service of two mortal hours, whilst -his eyes gazed into space and his mind -was a blank, and he only followed -mechanically what the others said or did.</p> - -<p>He walked home with Hannah on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -his arm and Elsie and Laurie trotting -before them, for the Hindes were far -too strict a family to have out their -horses on a Sunday, but all the while -that acquaintances were bowing and -smiling and exchanging civilities with -himself and his wife, he was wondering -how soon the news would reach Hampstead, -and if it would come by telegraph -or post, or if Walcheren would send a -special messenger to break it to the -old people at ‘The Cedars.’ And as -soon as he re-entered his own house, -the note was handed to him with the -fatal words ‘Come to me!’ He knew -then that the worst was known—that -the poor parents had been told of their -bereavement, and that it was his mission -to fly to comfort them.</p> - -<p>‘What can be the matter?’ questioned -Hannah. ‘Can they have already heard -from Jenny, or do you think it possible -she can be in Hampstead? Oh, Henry! -if they meet, surely Mr Crampton cannot -refuse to speak to her!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> - -<p>‘I know no more than you do,’ he answered, -‘but I suppose I must go! The old -man may have been taken ill. He looked -bad enough for anything yesterday evening.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! certainly, Henry dear, you must -go at once, and you can take your luncheon -with them. But I shall be impatient -to hear what he wants you for. If -Jenny should be there—oh, Henry, you -<i>will</i> let me know, won’t you? for I should -love to give the dear girl a kiss, and -assure her of my faithful friendship. You -will send someone over to tell me, in that -case, won’t you, dearest?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yes; of course I will,’ he answered, -quickly, ‘but there is no likelihood -of such a thing. Good-bye, I had -better be off at once.’</p> - -<p>And so he left her. The scene he -encountered at ‘The Cedars’ is easier -imagined than described. Mr Crampton -received him in his library, in the presence -of his wife, and sister-in-law, and Dr -M‘Coll. The old man looked as if he -had suddenly crumpled up. His features<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -were drawn and shrivelled, and his complexion -the colour of parchment. His -wife was laid face downwards on a -couch at the further end of the room, -stupefied with the shock of the news -they had just heard, whilst Miss Bostock -sat by her, silent and motionless, with -her hands hanging passively on her lap. -No one stirred except the doctor, as -Henry Hindes, white and trembling, but -with the assumption of being at his -ease, entered the room.</p> - -<p>‘Well, my dear friend,’ he commenced -cheerily, ‘what is it?’</p> - -<p>Mr Crampton turned to the doctor, and -muttered in a croaking voice, ‘Tell him.’</p> - -<p>‘I have the misfortune to be the bearer -of very bad news to Mr and Mrs -Crampton, sir,’ said Dr M‘Coll, in obedience -to his instructions. ‘Their daughter, -Mrs Walcheren, met with a terrible -accident on the Dover cliffs yesterday -afternoon, and is, in fact—has not recovered -the injuries inflicted—is lying -at this moment—dead!’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> - -<p>Henry Hindes’ face went crimson instead -of pale.</p> - -<p>‘Dead, sir!’ he ejaculated slowly, as if -he were choosing his words, ‘are you sure -she is dead? An accident? How can -you tell it was an accident? Might not -someone have done it on purpose—have -pushed her over?’</p> - -<p>Then he paused, as if he thought he -had been talking too fast, and repeated -his first question: ‘But are you sure that -she will not recover? She is very -young, you know,’ after which, perceiving -the grief of all around him, he broke -down, exclaiming, ‘Oh! Jenny dead! -Impossible! Impossible! Why, I went to -see her only yesterday! She can’t be -dead! my dear, dear friend!’ seizing old -Crampton’s hand; ‘don’t give way! It -is impossible!’</p> - -<p>‘You are only buoying this gentleman -up with false hopes, sir,’ said Dr M‘Coll. -‘There is no doubt of the truth of the -news, distressing as it may be, and I -am commissioned by Mr Walcheren to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -break it to all whom it may concern. -As to your suggestion that it may be due -to foul play, there is nothing whatever to -point to it, but it will cause the subject -of the inquiry at the inquest to-morrow. -Your presence will, of course, be necessary, -also Mr Crampton’s. I understand, as -you say yourself, that you went down -to Dover yesterday to see the unfortunate -lady, so that your testimony may be valuable -to the coroner, and the marriage -having been, I am told, a little irregular, -there is the more necessity that everything -should be made perfectly clear.’</p> - -<p>‘An inquest!’ stammered Hindes. ‘But -surely there is no need of our undergoing -such a painful ordeal? Why, it will nearly -kill Mr Crampton. My dear friend, you -must not think of attending it.’</p> - -<p>‘Not go?’ cried the old man, suddenly -rousing himself from the lethargy into -which he had temporarily fallen. ‘What -are you saying, Hindes? Of course we -must go. Don’t you see how this has -come about? That villain has murdered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -her; he stole her from me first, and then -he killed her. Who else would have -pushed her over the cliff? My poor -butchered lamb! my pretty Jenny! my -beautiful, innocent daughter! Oh! but -we will be avenged on him, never fear; -we’ll see him brought to justice and -give a hand to set him swinging. My -poor child! my murdered darling! I can -see how the whole damnable trick was -done!’</p> - -<p>‘You must not heed what he says,’ -whispered the doctor to Henry Hindes, -‘the shock has been too much for him, -though I broke it as gently as I could. -You must get him to bed and give him -a sleeping draught, but don’t listen to -any nonsense he may talk. There never -was a clearer case of misadventure. The -poor girl went out on the cliffs alone and -fell over them. The coroner can bring -in no other verdict.’</p> - -<p>‘But why, then, need we attend?’ asked -Hindes, with quivering lips; ‘it will be -a fearful trial for all of us. What do we<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -need more than your assurance of the -calamity that has befallen?’</p> - -<p>‘You may need nothing more, Mr -Hindes, but the law needs your deposition -as to what you know of the matter.’</p> - -<p>‘I know nothing—nothing—’ repeated -Hindes.</p> - -<p>‘Then you can say so,’ answered Dr -M‘Coll, shortly.</p> - -<p>‘No, we know nothing as yet,’ exclaimed -Mr Crampton, eagerly, ‘but we -<i>will</i> know it. We will not rest till we have -got at the bottom of this infamy. If ever a -poor child was murdered, my girl has -been.’</p> - -<p>‘Papa, papa,’ wailed Mrs Crampton -from the sofa, ‘don’t speak like that, or -you will break my heart.’</p> - -<p>‘Ay, my poor woman,’ said her husband, -‘you’ve plenty of cause to greet. -They’ve taken your ewe lamb from you. -You had but one left, and the Lord let -her be done to death, without stretching -forth His hand to save. And yet they -say He cares for us! But the murderer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -shall be brought to justice, never fear. -I’ll see to that.’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! if he goes on like this he’ll kill -me,’ sobbed the tortured mother.</p> - -<p>‘Mr Crampton,’ interposed the doctor, -‘we all feel deeply for you in this sore -affliction, but you must not bring unmeaning -accusations against anyone. There is -no question of how your poor daughter -came by her death. It was an unfortunate -accident, nothing more.’</p> - -<p>‘I know better, sir, I know better,’ replied -Mr Crampton. ‘You can’t deceive -me. My lamb was murdered, and may -God’s deepest curse rest—’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! stop, stop,’ cried Henry Hindes, -holding up his hand. ‘It is terrible to -hear you blaspheming in this manner, -without the least authority to do so. It -will not ease your own pain, Crampton, -and may add to it hereafter. For your -wife’s sake and your own, let me take -you to your room, where you can think -over this terrible news in quiet. Trust -in God, Crampton, trust in God. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -is nothing else to be done in a time like -the present.’</p> - -<p>But the old man, usually so acquiescent -in all that his partner said, turned -round on him, on this occasion, in -a fury.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t preach to me, Hindes!’ he exclaimed, -angrily. ‘It’s all very well for -you to talk of trusting in God, whilst -your own kids are safe at home, but lose -five, my boy, lose five—three boys and -two girls—and set all your hopes and -chances of happiness on the remaining -one, and have her murdered before your -eyes, and then talk of trusting in God. -You’re a hypocrite, sir, a d—d hypocrite.’</p> - -<p>‘Mr Crampton,’ said Henry Hindes, -deeply wounded, ‘I never thought to hear -you speak to me like this.’</p> - -<p>‘For shame, John, for shame!’ exclaimed -his wife, rousing herself for a -moment. ‘What are you thinking of? -Mr Hindes, too, who loved our darling -almost as if she had been his own child,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -and who has always been so kind to her -and us all.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah, well, well,’ said the old man in a -tired voice, ‘I suppose I was wrong, and -I ask your pardon for it, Hindes. But I -don’t seem to quite know what I am saying. -My head keeps going round so. I suppose -you are right, and I should be better by -myself for a few hours. Give me your -arm, and take me to my own room. I -leave this gentleman in your hands, -Hindes. See that he is attended to, and -arrange everything for our going down -to Dover. Good-morning, sir!’ and with -that Mr Crampton rose, and, leaning on -the arm of his friend, quitted the apartment.</p> - -<p>There was a less difficult task with the -women, whose sorrow was too deep for -words. Then Dr M‘Coll agreed with -Mr Hindes that they had better travel -down to Dover by an early train on the -morrow, as every endeavour was being -made to have the inquest on that day, on -account of the hot weather rendering it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> -desirable to get the burial over as quickly -as possible. Hindes shuddered at the -thought, but showed no emotion beyond -that which was evinced by his white face -and silent demeanour. Luncheon was -then served for the doctor, and he departed -to interview Mr Philip Walcheren -on the matter, when Henry Hindes was -free to return home.</p> - -<p>Here, as may be imagined, he had a -difficult task before him, but he felt freer, -for, in the presence of his wife, who had -loved Jenny Crampton so dearly, he was -not ashamed to break down himself, and -give some relief to his overcharged feelings. -Hannah’s grief was extreme, but -she tried to curb it for the sake of her -husband, who only rose in her estimation -for the tears and moans which he felt he -might indulge in at last.</p> - -<p>Both husband and wife had quite exhausted -themselves with their emotion, -when a servant entered to announce that -a constable desired to speak to his master. -Hannah could not help observing how<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -vividly white Henry became at this intimation. -She could not understand it, -unless the sad events of the day had so -undermined his usual intrepidity as to -make him start at shadows.</p> - -<p>‘Only a constable, Henry, dear,’ she -repeated, seeing how he trembled. ‘It -is probably something to do with this -unhappy business! Will you see him -here?’</p> - -<p>‘No! no!’ replied her husband, as he -wiped the sweat from his forehead, ‘not -here! Let him wait, Johnson! I will be -with him presently—presently!’</p> - -<p>Could anything have been discovered? -he thought to himself, as he leant against -the form of his wife for support, and she -passed her cambric handkerchief across his -wet hair. Was it possible he had dropped -any article belonging to him on the spot -where he and Jenny had stood together? -Had this man come to tell him that he -was suspected, and must consider himself -under arrest until the inquest had been -held on the morrow?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> - -<p>He pushed Hannah’s kindly ministrations -away and stood upright.</p> - -<p>‘I cannot see him in this condition,’ he -said, alluding to his swollen eyelids and -stained cheeks. ‘I must go to my room -first and smooth my hair.’</p> - -<p>He escaped by a back way as he spoke, -and gaining his dressing-room, arranged -his toilet a little. Then he searched in a -drawer for a bottle of morphia, which he -had been occasionally in the habit of taking -to induce sleep, for the condition of his -mind regarding Jenny Crampton had not -been conducive to sound and restful repose.</p> - -<p>‘If I am taken away from here,’ he -thought, ‘I will not reach Dover. They -shall see I know a trick worth two of that.’</p> - -<p>He thrust the vial in his breast and descended -to the hall to interview the constable. -But he had come on a very simple -errand. He had received information -from the Dover police that the inquiry on -the death of Mrs Walcheren had been -fixed for the morrow, and that Mr Hindes’ -presence would be necessary.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> - -<p>‘You see, sir,’ said the man, fumbling -with his papers, ‘we’re sorry to trouble -you, but as you went down to Dover to -see the lady, it is necessary the coroner -should hear the why and the wherefore -of everything to come to a right understanding -of the case. It’s a sad thing, -ain’t it, sir? A poor young creature done -to death in a moment, as you may say, and -only married on the Friday.’</p> - -<p>‘A frightful thing, indeed, constable!’ -replied Hindes.</p> - -<p>‘The poor gentleman, they say, is almost -out of his senses, as he well may -be,’ continued the policeman; ‘they can’t -get him away from the corpse, and he -turns round like a madman on any one -who proposes of it. Perhaps so be -you’re a relation, sir!’</p> - -<p>‘No, no; only a friend,’ said Hindes, -quickly.</p> - -<p>‘Well, he ought to have some friend -by him now, if all they tell me is true, -for the shock seems to have unsettled -his mind. The inquiry won’t be till<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -three o’clock to-morrow afternoon, sir, at -the ‘Bottle and Spurs’ public-house, where -the poor lady lies. If you’re there, sir, -they’ll get it over at once, but if so -be as you’re not there, the jury will -have to be called to attend another -day.’</p> - -<p>‘I shall be there,’ replied Henry -Hindes, and then he went upstairs again -and replaced the vial in the drawer before -he rejoined his wife. ‘Only a -notice to attend this miserable inquest, -my dear,’ he said in explanation as he -threw himself on a couch and buried his -face in his hands.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, Henry, how much I wish it were -not necessary for you to go! I know how -bitterly you will feel it! To have to be -questioned by a man who cares nothing for -our poor dear darling, and who will rake -up all sorts of things to wound you and -make the remembrance still more bitter -than it is; but it is your duty, and you -must go! Shall you see her, Harry?’ -she added, in a whisper.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> - -<p>Her husband shuddered.</p> - -<p>‘I suppose so! That is, if I must!’</p> - -<p>‘But you wouldn’t like our sweet -Jenny to go to her grave without a last -look, dear, I am sure! And may I -send some flowers to put over her? -Will you take them from me?’</p> - -<p>‘No! no! for God’s sake, no!’ cried -Hindes, covering his face again; ‘I cannot -enter into all these harrowing details like -women can. I shall go down and come -away again as quickly as possible; the -sight of the poor child would kill me! -I have no morbid inclination for gazing -at corpses, Hannah.’</p> - -<p>‘But our poor Jenny,’ said his wife, -regretfully; ‘it would seem to me like -refusing to look at Elsie or Laurie if -they were taken from us. Thank God -they are not. Oh, poor Mrs Crampton,’ -continued Hannah, breaking down again; -‘what must she be feeling at this -moment! How I pity her with my -whole, whole heart!’</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Philip Walcheren, having<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -heard the news of Jenny’s death from -Dr M‘Coll, had hastened to the presence -of Father Tasker.</p> - -<p>‘A judgment, a judgment, my dear -father!’ he exclaimed. ‘I have just -heard the most terrible piece of news. -Poor, misguided Frederick’s young wife -was killed yesterday by a fall over the -cliffs at Dover!’</p> - -<p>‘Heaven rest her soul!’ said the priest, -crossing himself. ‘Who told you of it?’</p> - -<p>‘A medical man called M‘Coll, who -came from Dover, at Frederick’s request, -to break the news to me. There is to be -an inquest held on the remains of the -poor, young creature to-morrow, and -Frederick would like me to support him -on the occasion. Can you manage to -accompany me, father? Your presence -might have a great effect on my cousin.’</p> - -<p>‘No, my son, I think not! You had -better go alone! This is not a time for -exhortation or reproof. It is the time for -affection and kindness. Your poor cousin -will, as you say, feel very desolate, and as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> -if Heaven had forsaken him. Let him -find if he has lost a wife he has found a -brother. If ever we are to succeed in our -plans for him—if ever our hopes of persuading -him to enter the Church are to be -realised, it is now—now, when he will feel -as if the world had given way beneath -him. Go down to-night by all means -and comfort him as best you can. This -marriage was entered into, you tell me, -without the consent of the lady’s parents. -Possibly, they may be the more set against -him in consequence of this event, though -it happened from no fault of his own. -Let him see that his misfortunes bind us -more nearly to him—make us more anxious -that he should seek comfort where it is -only to be obtained—in the exercise of -his religion. Heaven’s workings are very -mysterious, my son. I see already in this -sad dispensation, a glimmer of hope for -your cousin’s future. Perhaps this, and -nothing else, would have made him regard -your exhortations and my entreaties in a -proper light.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> - -<p>‘God grant you may be right, father,’ -answered Philip. ‘If I could see Frederick -fulfilling my good Aunt Alicia’s wishes, -and his godfather’s intentions, by entering -our Holy Church, and dedicating his -money to her use, I should feel my life -had not been wasted by devoting it to -such a purpose.’</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" > - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Frederick was still bending over the -dead body of his wife, when Philip Walcheren -entered the little back parlour of -the ‘Bottle and Spurs’ that evening. -The landlady told him that he had not -left the room since the preceding night.</p> - -<p>‘Nor has bit nor sup passed his lips, -sir, except a cup of coffee, which I made -expressly, and took to him this morning. -Nor haven’t his clothes been off, neither! -I’m sure I don’t know what <i>is</i> to become -of the poor gentleman at this rate. He -seems just eat up with grief.’</p> - -<p>‘I will go to him,’ said Philip, as he -turned the handle of the door and -entered his cousin’s presence.</p> - -<p>Frederick was much in the same position<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -he had at first assumed. He occupied -a chair by the side of the table on -which the body of poor Jenny lay—his -hand clasped hers, and his head was -bowed down on the deal boards.</p> - -<p>‘Frederick—my dear Frederick,’ said -Philip, gently.</p> - -<p>At the sound of his voice the bereaved -husband roused himself, and made -a slight deprecatory gesture with his -hand.</p> - -<p>‘Don’t speak to me—don’t reproach -me,’ he answered, bitterly, ‘for I cannot -bear it.’</p> - -<p>‘Far be it from me to reproach you, -Frederick,’ replied his cousin as he laid -his hand on his; ‘on the contrary, I have -come to comfort you, as far as lies in -my power, under the terrible calamity -that has befallen you.’</p> - -<p>‘No one can comfort me, Philip.’</p> - -<p>‘No one but our Heavenly Father, -Frederick, and our Blessed Mother, who -is watching your sufferings even now, -with eyes of divine compassion and love.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> - -<p>‘I don’t believe it,’ said the other, -brusquely; ‘if she pitied me why didn’t -she prevent it? She could stand by and -see the whole of my life ruined at a blow. -What pity is there in that? What good -can her pity do me after my love has -been taken from me? Look at her, -Philip,’ he continued, uncovering the -pretty, bruised face of the dead, over -which the livid hues of decomposition -were already beginning to steal. ‘See -how lovely she was! How young! how -innocent! And she loved me—she loved -me! And now it is all over; we are -torn asunder for evermore. Oh, God! -it is too hard for mortal man to bear! -They might have let me enjoy a few -months, a few weeks of happiness in -her affection, but to call her mine one -day and to lose her the next—I shall -kill myself. I cannot live without her!’</p> - -<p>‘Hush, my dear Frederick, hush!’ replied -Philip, ‘God’s hand is very heavy -upon you, but you must not blaspheme. -Was not this beautiful creature His as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> -well as yours? May He not do as He -wills with His own? No one denies the -awful grief you are called upon to bear, -but you cannot lessen it by raving against -the justice of the Almighty. Rather -bend with submission to His decree, my -dear cousin, and live your future life so -as you may meet your wife again. You -can think of nothing now but your exceeding -loss, but when you have time -to consider, you will realise that she is -not really gone, only hidden from your -natural sight for a little while, and that, -if you choose it, you are bound to meet -her again and to dwell with her for -ever!’</p> - -<p>This thought broke down the unhappy -man.</p> - -<p>‘Oh! my Jenny, my Jenny!’ he sobbed, -‘is it possible you are looking on your -wretched husband now? that you pity and -love him and will wait for him at the -eternal gates? Philip, Philip, is this a -judgment on me? I have been thinking -ever since it happened of that unfortunate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -girl, Rhoda Berry, at Luton! I cannot get -her out of my head! All last night I -fancied I saw her grinning and rejoicing -at my misfortune. Has God done this -out of anger for my sin? Has He made -my sweet innocent wife the scapegoat -for my iniquity? Was it the blood of -the other woman, crying up from the -eternal depths for vengeance, that caused -my angel to take a false step and meet -with her death over those dreadful cliffs? -The idea has nearly driven me mad! -Tell me it is not true!’</p> - -<p>‘My dear cousin—my dear brother, for -such you are in affection to me—I cannot -say that this loss has not been sent by -the Almighty Father to wake you to a -sense of the sinful life you have been -leading. I should be false to my trust -and to my belief were I to say so. But -for whatever reason it has been permitted, -it has come in love, Frederick, from a -Father Who cannot see you ruin your -hopes of everlasting happiness, but would -have the soul of your beloved wife, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> -your own soul as well, in His keeping. -My dear Fred, you must know that you -were wrong, not only to marry this poor -child under the existing circumstances, but -to marry her without the consent of her -parents. Think of the trouble you have -brought upon them, those poor old people, -who had no one to solace their age but -this young creature who lies before us. -Frederick, my dear cousin, I know you -don’t believe in prayer, but let me pray -for you and for <i>her</i>, that she may be received -into the ranks of those who shall -be saved hereafter, even though as by -fire!’</p> - -<p>‘Do you mean to say she is not happy -now? That she has not already entered -into the joys of Heaven?’ asked Frederick -anxiously.</p> - -<p>‘My dear cousin, you have surely not -so far forgotten the precepts of our Holy -Church as to imagine that Heaven is -obtained without purgatory—bliss without -self-sacrifice. This poor girl, however -innocent and blameless she may<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -have seemed, will have her expiation to -pass through, as well as all of us. But -we can pray for her, that she may find -relief. We can yield up our own wishes, -our own pleasures, that she may the sooner -pass from purgatory to Paradise. Much -will rest with you. Your future life will -make or mar her progress to the gates of -Heaven!’</p> - -<p>‘It shall not mar it,’ replied Frederick, -brokenly; ‘my life is worth nothing to me -now, and I will give it into your hands -and Father Tasker’s to do with as you -think fit!’</p> - -<p>Philip Walcheren smiled inwardly, not -sardonically, for he was in earnest if man -ever was, but with sublime satisfaction -that the Almighty had seen fit to deliver -the soul of this bruised reed into the -power of the Church. He had no doubt -now but that his hopes for his cousin’s -future were assured, and the poisoned -barb had gone home so deeply that whilst -the sting lasted he would be able to wield -Frederick as he chose. But he was too<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> -prudent to press the subject home at the -present moment. He contented himself -with consoling his cousin to the best of -his ability, always keeping before him the -power and influence of the Blessed Mother -of God, and her interest in the souls of -young girls, like the poor dead child before -them, until the miserable husband was -almost supplicating the Virgin of his boyhood, -then and there, to save his darling -from the pit his misdeeds had drawn her -into—he, who had not breathed a prayer -for years past.</p> - -<p>Philip Walcheren stayed by him all -through that night and until the coroner’s -jury assembled on the following afternoon. -At the appointed hour a noise, as of the -trampling of many feet, sounded in the -public bar of the house, and Philip -touched Frederick gently on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>‘Fred, dear old man, rouse yourself. -Here are the coroner and jury coming -to view the body. And Mr Crampton -and Mr Hindes wish to come in first. -Be brave, my dear cousin. It is a painful<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -but necessary ordeal. Stand apart a -little and let your wife’s father have -access to the body. It is his right, you -know.’</p> - -<p>The young man stood up mechanically, -and taking Philip’s arm staggered to the -other side of the room. Mr Crampton -entered, leaning on Henry Hindes. The -latter was suffering the tortures of the -damned. His eyes were not still for a -moment, and his whole frame shook and -quivered. The sight of the crushed and -pallid corpse struck both men like a -heavy blow. Old Crampton gazed at -it for a minute, muttering, ‘My God! My -God! can that be my Jenny?’ but Hindes -said nothing, and kept his eyes turned -on Frederick Walcheren. Presently Mr -Crampton’s followed suit, and the sight -appeared to rouse him into fury.</p> - -<p>‘Yes!’ he exclaimed, brandishing his -stick, ‘there lies my murdered child, and -there stands her murderer.’</p> - -<p>‘Crampton, Crampton, think what you -are saying!’ cried Hindes, shaking his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> -friend’s arm, whilst Philip Walcheren said -angrily, ‘If the effect of this sad sight, -which should draw two men in misfortune -together, is only to cause you to make -malevolent and unjustifiable accusations, -sir, I shall be compelled, as my cousin’s -friend, to request you to leave the room. -This lady may have been your daughter, -but she was his wife, and as such, no one -has a right to intrude upon his grief.’</p> - -<p>‘Ay, Ay! a wife he stole from me, -sir—that he <i>stole</i> from me, and murdered!’ -repeated the old man, shaking -with rage.</p> - -<p>‘Gentlemen, I must beg you to clear -the room,’ said the landlord at this -juncture. ‘The coroner and jury are -coming in to view the body.’</p> - -<p>His wife, entering at the same time, -hustled them all into another apartment, -where they sat glaring at each other, -until their time came to be called to -appear and give evidence. The coroner, -a Mr Procter, rather prided himself on -his astuteness. He was for ever finding<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> -a mountain in a molehill, for he hoped to -mount the magisterial chair some day, and -his aim was to impress the public with his -cleverness and ingenuity. The first witnesses -called were the two boatmen -Jackson and Barnes, who had found Jenny’s -body lying at the bottom of the cliffs.</p> - -<p>‘It was five o’clock or nigh upon it, -please yer honour,’ commenced the spokesman, -‘as I and my mate here went to -the lower beach to haul up our boats.’</p> - -<p>‘What do you call the “lower beach”?’ -snapped Mr Procter, who was a sandy-haired -man, with a pimply face and red-rimmed -eyes, ‘all the beach is lower than -the cliffs.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, yer honour; but we calls the -beach below Dragon’s Foot the lower -beach, because so be, when the tide runs -out—’</p> - -<p>‘You are not here to tell us when the -tide runs out, but to say how you discovered -the body of the deceased Jane -Emily Walcheren,’ said the coroner, consulting -his papers.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> - -<p>‘Yes, yer worship. Well! as I and -my mate here was a-haulin’ up the boats, -I says to him, I says, “Bob,” I says, -“what be that ’ere bundle of white,” I -says, “under the cliff?” “Blowed if I -know,” he says, “it looks like a sheet as -has blowed over in drying,” he says.’</p> - -<p>‘You are not here to tell the jury -what your mate thought the body looked -like. You are to tell us how you found -it.’</p> - -<p>‘Yes, sir. Well, sir, we thought it -was a sheet, you see, but when we went -to pick it up, we see it was a young -woman. So we lifted her atween us -and carries her to this ’ere ’ouse, and -then my mate he fetches Dr M‘Coll. -And that’s all, sir!’</p> - -<p>‘Very good! Now, tell us, please, -when you found the body was there no -one about?’</p> - -<p>‘Not a soul as we see, my lord—I -mean, yer worship—the beach was empty -from hend to hend.’</p> - -<p>‘And the cliffs?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span></p> - -<p>‘Didn’t see a soul on the cliffs neither, -yer worship.’</p> - -<p>‘You met no one on your way here? -You are sure!’</p> - -<p>‘Quite sure, your honour! ’Twould -be all over the town if we had!’</p> - -<p>‘Very well! You can sit down. Call -Dr M‘Coll!’</p> - -<p>The doctor, having been sworn, deposed -that he had been called to the -‘Bottle and Spurs’ at about six o’clock on -Saturday night, to see the deceased. She -was then quite dead—had been dead for -two or three hours. There was a large -bruise on the temple caused by her striking -against the rocks in her fall. That -was of itself sufficient to have caused -death, but the spine was broken and the -neck. The body was also much bruised. -There was no question but that the deceased -had met her death by falling over -the cliffs.</p> - -<p>‘Now, Dr M‘Coll, I should like to -put a few questions to you, if you please,’ -said Mr Procter, looking his very sharpest.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -‘Is it your opinion that the deceased -must inevitably have fallen over the cliffs -of her own accord? Might she not have -been blown over, or pushed over, or -thrown herself over by design?’</p> - -<p>‘Certainly she might! It is impossible -to say how she came to fall over, -but she <i>did</i> fall over—that is beyond a -question.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah!’ said the coroner, with self-satisfaction, -as if he had discovered a very -knotty point. ‘Then you consider death -was due—’</p> - -<p>‘To dislocation of the spine from a -fall over the cliffs.’</p> - -<p>‘That’s your opinion, is it?’ remarked -the coroner, dubiously.</p> - -<p>‘Yes, sir, that’s my opinion,’ replied -M‘Coll shortly, as he retired.</p> - -<p>The next witness was Crampton. He -came tottering into the room, and stood -supporting himself on his silver-mounted -cane.</p> - -<p>‘You are, I believe, the father of -the deceased, Mr Crampton,’ began the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -coroner, scrutinising the old man through -his eye-glasses.</p> - -<p>‘I am, sir. She was my only child—the -only one I had left.’</p> - -<p>‘And she was married on the Friday -preceding her death?’</p> - -<p>‘She was, worse luck!’</p> - -<p>‘Was her marriage undertaken with -your consent, Mr Crampton?’</p> - -<p>At this question, the old man became -violently agitated.</p> - -<p>‘It was not, sir. She was stolen from -me by a villain, who came to my house -under the disguise of friendship, and—’</p> - -<p>Some one in the jury remarked that -this was quite irrelevant to the evidence -on hand, but Mr Procter ordered him to -be silent.</p> - -<p>‘This poor gentleman has sustained a -double injury,’ he said. ‘Let him tell his -story in his own words.’</p> - -<p>‘I have not much more to say, gentlemen,’ -resumed Mr Crampton. ‘This man, -Frederick Walcheren, stole my daughter -from me, and the next thing I hear is that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -she is dead. It is not a long story, but it -is a very bitter one.’</p> - -<p>‘And you have the full sympathy of the -jury for it, Mr Crampton. I believe your -daughter was your heiress. Did you -threaten to make any alteration in your -will if she went against your wishes?’</p> - -<p>‘I did. I said that if she married this -Walcheren, who is a Papist, she shouldn’t -have a halfpenny.’</p> - -<p>‘Did you make the same intimation to -Mr Walcheren?’</p> - -<p>‘I think not, at least personally, but I -suppose she did, for they ran away together -two days afterwards. And this is -the end of it—this is the end.’</p> - -<p>‘You have recognised the deceased as -your daughter?’</p> - -<p>The father broke down.</p> - -<p>‘Oh, yes, sir, I have recognised her -only too well. My poor pretty darling. -She was called the “Beauty of Hampstead,” -sir, the “Beauty of Hampstead.”’</p> - -<p>‘Thank you, Mr Crampton, that will do. -I am sorry to have troubled you so far,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -but it was necessary. You can retire, sir. -Call Mr Henry Hindes.’</p> - -<p>The witness entered the room, with a -pallid face, compressed lips, as if resolved -that nothing should make him betray himself, -and a stolid demeanour which was -wholly put on. The stakes were too -high. He could not afford to think or -fear. All he had to do was to believe -things were <i>not so</i>, and to act accordingly.</p> - -<p>‘You look ill, Mr Hindes. Do you wish -for a chair?’</p> - -<p>‘Certainly not! But I am an old friend -of the family. I have known the deceased -from a child.’</p> - -<p>‘Ah! We will detain you as short a -time as possible. You were in Dover, Mr -Hindes, on Saturday last, I believe. Will -you tell the jury why you came here?’</p> - -<p>‘I came at the instigation, and with -the knowledge, of my old friends Mr and -Mrs Crampton, to bring a message to -their daughter, and to see if I could effect -a reconciliation between them.’</p> - -<p>‘Between them and the young couple?’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> - -<p>‘No, not with Mr Walcheren—they -steadfastly refused to see or speak with -Mr Walcheren—but with his wife, their -daughter.’</p> - -<p>‘How could a reconciliation be effected -with one and not with the other?’</p> - -<p>‘Because Miss Crampton—the deceased—had -married without the consent of her -people, and her father had cut her out of -his will. But, as the marriage was somewhat -irregular—’</p> - -<p>‘How was it irregular?’</p> - -<p>‘Miss Crampton was not of age, and -Mr Walcheren swore, when he procured -the licence, that she was!’</p> - -<p>‘Oh! he did!’ said the coroner, making -a note of the fact on his papers; ‘and -Mr Crampton cut the deceased out of -his will in consequence?’</p> - -<p>‘He did so, or meant to do so, but -he sent me here with a message to the -effect that if she would return home, -and permit the marriage to be annulled, -he would receive her back, but on no -other terms.’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> - -<p>‘And may I ask what the lady said -when you delivered that message to -her?’</p> - -<p>‘I never delivered it! I did not see -her! I called twice at the Castle Warden -Hotel, but each time was told that she -was out, so I returned to town without -seeing her!’</p> - -<p>‘And you did not see Mr Walcheren -either?’</p> - -<p>‘I did not see Mr Walcheren either.’</p> - -<p>‘Upon which you returned to town?’</p> - -<p>‘Yes! I went up by the five-thirty -train.’</p> - -<p>‘One moment, Mr Hindes. Can you -tell me if Mr Walcheren was aware of -Mr Crampton’s intention to cut his -daughter out of his will <i>before</i> this -marriage took place?’</p> - -<p>‘I do not know! I was deputed once -to make Mr Crampton’s wishes relative -to his daughter known to Mr Walcheren, -and the risk may have been mentioned, -but he would not take it as a definite -decision from me. The chief objection<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> -always brought forward was to his religion. -Mr Crampton would not hear -of his daughter marrying a Roman -Catholic.’</p> - -<p>‘Of course not! very natural!’ observed -Mr Procter, who, like most of the -middle classes in England, was an ultra-Protestant, -and only connected Catholicism -with monasteries, nunneries, fasting, -confession and the Grand Inquisition.</p> - -<p>‘That will do, Mr Hindes! you can -stand down,’ said the coroner, with a -smile. The next witnesses examined -were Mr Cameron, the landlord of the -Castle Warden, and the waiters and -chambermaids, who had or had not seen -poor Jenny Walcheren leave the hotel on -that fatal day.</p> - -<p>Then came a call for the last witness—the -witness whom Mr Procter had -purposely reserved to the last.</p> - -<p>‘Tell Mr Frederick Walcheren he is -required.’</p> - -<p>But Philip Walcheren stepped forward -instead.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p> - -<p>‘Are you the husband of the deceased, -sir?’</p> - -<p>‘No! I am his cousin. I have come -to ask you if his presence and testimony -on this, the most trying occasion of his -life, cannot be dispensed with? He is -half beside himself with grief. Picture -to yourself, gentlemen, a young husband -bereft the very day after his wedding of -all that made his life happy. He is not -in a fit state to answer any questions, -nor to have his inmost feelings submitted -to scrutiny. Besides, he knows no more -than you do! He parted with his poor -wife in radiant health and spirits on -Saturday morning, and never saw her -again until she lay on that table as you -have seen her. The doctor has given -you his testimony that her death was the -result of a pure accident! Is it necessary, -then, that my poor cousin should be -tortured by recalling in public the -memories that are nearly driving him -out of his mind.’</p> - -<p>‘It is absolutely necessary, Mr Walcheren,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> -replied the coroner, ‘the husband’s -testimony may prove the most important -of all. I cannot, in the pursuit of my -duty, excuse the presence of your cousin. -Call Mr Frederick Walcheren.’</p> - -<p>And all eyes were turned eagerly -towards the door, to watch the advent -of the greatest sufferer of all by this -most hapless adventure.</p> - - -<p class="ph3 margin-bottom4">END OF VOL. I.</p> - - - -<p class="center"><b>COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</b></p> - - -<div class="transcriberNote"> -<h2>Transcriber's note</h2> - -<p>Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. The following -Printer errors have been changed:</p> - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><b>CHANGED</b></td> -<td class="tdl"><b>FROM</b></td> -<td class="tdl"><b>TO</b></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_2">2</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“by-and-bye”</td> -<td class="tdl">“by-and-by”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_21">21</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“dinner-time”</td> -<td class="tdl">“dinner time”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_21">21</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“half-an-hour”</td> -<td class="tdl">“half an hour”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> -<td class="tdl">“unbrella”</td> -<td class="tdl">“umbrella”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_47">47</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“anyone of the other”</td> -<td class="tdl">“any one of the other”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_49">49</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“spend-thrift”</td> -<td class="tdl">“spendthrift”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_56">56</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“Well, really, father”</td> -<td class="tdl">“Well, really, Father”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_57">57</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“liason”</td> -<td class="tdl">“liaison”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_61">61</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“six thirty”</td> -<td class="tdl">“six-thirty”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_67">67</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“promise not see”</td> -<td class="tdl">“promise not to see”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_78">78</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“prententions”</td> -<td class="tdl">“pretensions”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_80">80</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“Brunnel”</td> -<td class="tdl">“Brunell”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_95">95</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“think off”</td> -<td class="tdl">“think of”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_111">111</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“Your’s”</td> -<td class="tdl">“Yours”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_132">132</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“remains of breakfast was”</td> -<td class="tdl">“remains of the breakfast were”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_138">138</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“paralysed us us”</td> -<td class="tdl">“paralysed us”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_155">155</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“half-an-hour”</td> -<td class="tdl">“half an hour”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_161">161</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“he begun”</td> -<td class="tdl">“he began”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_169">169</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“out of her’s”</td> -<td class="tdl">“out of hers”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_202">202</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“chosing his words”</td> -<td class="tdl">“choosing his words”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_210">210</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“ividly white”</td> -<td class="tdl">“vividly white”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_210">210</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“s probably something”</td> -<td class="tdl">“is probably something”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_227">227</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“if the effect”</td> -<td class="tdl">“If the effect”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_228">228</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“Proctor”</td> -<td class="tdl">“Procter”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_232">232</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“Proctor”</td> -<td class="tdl">“Procter”</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl">Page <a href="#Page_238">238</a>:</td> -<td class="tdl">“of hs”</td> -<td class="tdl">“of his”</td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<p>All other inconsistencies are as in the original.</p> - - -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. -</div> - -<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> -<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person -or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the -Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when -you share it without charge with others. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work -on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the -phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: -</div> - -<blockquote> - <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> - 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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you - are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws - of the country where you are located before using this eBook. - </div> -</blockquote> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project -Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg™ License. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format -other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain -Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -provided that: -</div> - -<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation.” - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ - works. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - </div> - - <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> - • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. - </div> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right -of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread -public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state -visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate -</div> - -<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, -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. -</div> - -</div> -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/69286-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/69286-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 150c774..0000000 --- a/old/69286-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null |
