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diff --git a/old/69809-0.txt b/old/69809-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 48c01ad..0000000 --- a/old/69809-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19057 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of For whose sake?, by Emma Dorothy Eliza -Nevitte Southworth - -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: For whose sake? - a sequel to “why did he wed her?” - -Author: Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth - -Release Date: January 15, 2023 [eBook #69809] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing 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 FOR WHOSE SAKE? *** - - - - - - _FOR WHOSE SAKE?_ - A SEQUEL TO “WHY DID HE WED HER?” - - By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH - - Author of - “Lilith,” “The Unloved Wife,” “Em,” “Em’s Husband,” “Ishmael,” - “Self-Raised,” Etc. - -[Illustration] - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - PUBLISHERS :: :: NEW YORK - - - - - Popular Books - - By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH - - In Handsome Cloth Binding - - Price 60 Cents per Volume - - - * * * * * - - CAPITOLA’S PERIL - CRUEL AS THE GRAVE - “EM” - EM’S HUSBAND - FOR WHOSE SAKE - ISHMAEL - LILITH - THE BRIDE’S FATE - THE CHANGED BRIDES - THE HIDDEN HAND - THE UNLOVED WIFE - TRIED FOR HER LIFE - SELF-RAISED - WHY DID HE WED HER - - * * * * * - - For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of - price - - A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS - 52 Duane Street New York - - Copyright, 1884 - By ROBERT BONNER - - FOR WHOSE SAKE - - Printed by special arrangement with - STREET & SMITH - - - - - FOR WHOSE SAKE? - - - - - CHAPTER I - A STARTLING RENCONTRE - - -Two travelers on board the ocean steamer _Scorpio_, bound from New York -to Liverpool, were Gentleman Geff and his queenly bride. - -He was in blissful ignorance that his forsaken wife and her infant were -on the same ship. - -The wife whom he believed to be in her pauper grave in potter’s field, -and the child of whose birth he had never heard! - -Gentleman Geff was riding on the topmost wave of success and popularity. -He had paid a high price for his fortune, but he told himself -continually that the fortune was worth all he had given for it. - -Certainly there were two awful pictures that would present themselves to -his mental vision with terrible distinctness and persistent regularity. - -The first was of a deep wood, in the dead of night, and a young man’s -ghastly face turned up to the starlight. - -The other was of a silent city street, in the dark hours before day, and -a girl’s form prone upon the pavement, with a dark stream creeping from -a wound in her side. - -There were moments when the murderer would have given all that he had -gained by his crimes to wake up and find that they had all been “the -phantasmagoria of a midnight dream”; that he was not the counterfeit -Randolph Hay, Esquire, of Haymore, with a rent roll of twenty thousand -pounds sterling a year, and an income from invested funds of twice as -much, and with two atrocious murders on his soul, but simply the poor -devil of an adventurer who lived by his wits, and was known to the -miners as Gentleman Geff. - -At such times he would drink deeply of brandy, and under its influence -find all his views change. He would philosophize about life, fortune, -destiny, necessity, and try to persuade himself that he had been more -sinned against than sinning. He then felt sure that, if he had been born -to wealth, he would have been a philanthropist of the highest order, a -benefactor to the whole human race; would have founded churches, and -sent out missionaries; would have established hospitals and asylums, and -erected model tenement houses for the poor. - -Ah! how good and great a man he would have proved himself if he had only -been born to vast wealth! But he had been born to genteel poverty. Fate -had been unkind. It was all the fault of fate, he argued. - -In this exaltation he would go into the gentlemen’s saloon, sit down at -one of the gaming tables, and stake, and win or lose, large sums of -money; and so, in the feverish mental and physical excitement of -drinking and gambling, he would seek to drive away remorse. - -Often he would drink himself into a state of maudlin sentimentality, and -in that state reel into the stateroom occupied by himself and his bride. -He was really more “in love” with Lamia Leegh than he had ever been with -any woman in his long career of “lady-killing.” He had married her for -love, although it was the Turk’s love. - -But Lamia did not love him in the least. She had married him for rank, -money and position. She had begun by liking him, then enduring him, and -now she ended by detesting him. - -“Some poor girls marry old men for money; some marry ugly men or -withered men for the same cause; but to marry a drunkard for that, or -for any cause; to be obliged to live with the beast; to be unable to -escape from him; to see him day and night; to smell his nauseous -breath—it is horrible, abhorrent, abominable!” she said to herself. - -Yet she never dared to let her disgust and abhorrence appear to -its object. She was too politic to offend him, for—he held the -purse strings. There had been no settlements—nothing of the -sort—notwithstanding all the talk about them with Will Walling. -For every dollar she would receive she must depend on her husband. - -The Cashmere shawls and sable furs and solitaire diamonds that she -longed for, if she should get them at all, must be got from him, and she -knew she would get them, and everything else she might want, so long as -he should possess his fortune and she retain his favor. So she veiled -her dislike under a show of affection, and she even made for herself a -rule and set for herself a task, so that he might never find out her -real feelings toward him. - -The more disgusted she might really be, the more enamored she would -pretend to be. - -This was surely a very hard way of earning diamonds and the rest, but, -like Gentleman Geff, she told herself that they were worth it; and she -thought so. - -Their fellow passengers all knew them to be a newly married pair; for -there happened to be a few New York “society” people on the ship, who -had heard all about the grand wedding at Peter Vansitart’s, and they had -spread the news in the first cabin. - -Their fellow voyagers also believed them to be a very happy couple; -though ladies sometimes whispered together that he certainly did look -rather dissipated; and gentlemen remarked to each other that it was a -pity he drank so hard and played so high. It was a bad beginning at his -age, and if it should continue Haymore fortunes could scarcely “stand -the racket.” - -But notwithstanding these drawbacks, Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay were very -popular among their fellow voyagers. - -The weather continued good for the first week. - -The bride and groom were daily to be seen on deck—well wrapped up, for -the fine October days were cold on midocean. - -Yet though they were every day on deck, they had never yet encountered -Jennie. - -How was that? And where was Jennie? - -Jennie Montgomery was in her stateroom, so prostrated by seasickness -that she was scarcely able to take care of her child. She had never once -left her room even to go into the ladies’ saloon, but passed her time -between her lower berth and her broad sofa. - -Stewardess Hopkins became interested in poor little Jennie and her -baby—“one as much of a baby as t’other,” she had said to one of the -stateroom stewards—and so she showed them kindness from a heartfelt -sympathy, such as no fee could have purchased. - -On the eighth day out, Mrs. Hopkins was in the room with the young -mother and child, when Jennie, looking gratefully at the stewardess, -said, with tears in her eyes: - -“Oh, Mrs. Hopkins, I do thank you with all my heart, but feel so deeply -that that is not enough. I shall never, never be able to repay you for -all your goodness to me.” - -“Don’t talk in that way, my dear,” replied the stewardess, in -self-depreciation. - -“If it were not for you, I believe that I and baby should both die on -the sea.” - -“Oh, no, dear. ‘The Lord tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,’ and if I -hadn’t been here He would have provided some one else for you. But now, -dear, I do really think you ought to try and exert yourself to go up on -deck. Here we are a week at sea, and you have had no enjoyment of the -voyage at all. Don’t you think, now that the baby has gone to sleep, and -is safe to be quiet for two or three hours, you could let me wrap you up -warm and help you up on deck?” - -“I should like to do so, but I am not able; indeed I am not. I am as -weak as a rat.” - -“Rats are remarkably strong for their size, my dear, for they’re all -muscle. And as for you being weak, it is only a nervous fancy, caused by -your seasickness. But you’re over that now. And if you will only let me -help you up on deck, why, every step you take and every breath you -breathe will give you new life and strength,” persisted the stewardess. - -“Well, I will go.” - -Jennie stood up, holding by the edge of the upper berth for support, -while the stewardess prepared her to go up on deck. - -And when last of all Jennie was well wrapped up in her fur-lined cloak, -Mrs. Hopkins led and supported her to the stairs, and took her carefully -up to the deck, and found her a sheltered seat on the lee side. - -“Sit here,” she said, “and every breath of this fresh air you breathe -will give you new life.” - -And having tucked a rug well around the feet of her charge, the -stewardess left Jennie to herself. - -Jennie looked around her. There were very few people within the range of -her vision, only the man at the wheel and two or three deck hands. - -It was the luncheon hour, and nearly all the passengers who were not in -their staterooms had gone to the dining saloon. - -Then Jennie looked abroad over the boundless expanse of dazzling blue -sea, leaping and sparkling under the light of a radiant blue sky. It was -splendid, glorious, but blinding to vision just out of the shadows of -the stateroom and cabin, and so Jennie closed her eyes to recover them, -and sat with them closed for some moments. At this hour it was very -quiet on deck. Only the sounds of the ship’s movements were heard. -Jennie, with her tired eyes shut, sat there in calm content. - -“Oh! I am going mad! I am going mad! It has taken shape at last—or is -this—delirium tremens? I—must not—drink so much!” - -It was a low, husky, shuddering voice that uttered these strange words -in Jennie’s hearing. - -She opened her eyes at the sound, looked up and saw—— - -Kightly Montgomery, her husband, within a few feet of her, staring in -horror upon her, while he supported himself in a collapsed state against -the bulwarks of the ship. The face that confronted her was ashen, -ghastly, awe-stricken, yet defiant, as with the impotent revolt of a -demon. - -Jennie returned his glare with a gaze of amazement and perplexity. - -And so they remained spellbound, staring at each other, without moving -or speaking, for perhaps a full minute. - -Jennie was the first to recover herself. A moment’s reflection enabled -her to understand the situation—that Kightly Montgomery, under his new -name and with his new wife, was her fellow passenger on the _Scorpio_. -This was clear enough to her now. - -She was also the first to break the spell of silence, though it cost her -an effort to do so, and her voice quivered, and she lowered her eyes as -she said: - -“You seem to take me for an optical illusion.” - -He still glared at her without answering. - -“I am no ‘illusion,’” she continued, more steadily, gaining more -self-control every moment. - -“If not—what—in the devil—are you?” he gasped at length, terrified, yet -aggressive. - -“I am your wife; but shall never claim, or wish to claim, the position,” -she replied, still keeping her eyes down to avoid the pain of seeing his -face. - -“You are—I do not—I thought——How——” he began, in utter confusion of -mind, and with his eyes starting from the intensity of his stare. - -“Go away, please, and collect yourself. Do not fear me. I shall not -trouble you. But pray, go now, and do not come near me or speak to me -again,” said Jennie. - -“But I thought—you were dead!” he blurted out, with brutal bluntness. - -Jennie reflected for a moment. Why should he have thought that she was -dead, even though he had tried to kill her, and had indeed left her for -dead? Then she concluded that he must have fled from the city -immediately after having committed the crime by which he had intended to -rid himself of her forever; but she made no reply to his remark. - -“Why have you followed me here?” he demanded, trying to cover his -intense anxiety with an air of bravado. - -“I did not follow you. I did not know that you were to be on this boat. -How should I have known it? And why should I have followed you?” she -calmly inquired. - -“How is it—that you are here, then?” he questioned, his voice still -shaking, his eyes staring, his form supported against the bulwarks of -the ship. - -“I am going home to my father’s house. When I got well in the Samaritan -Hospital a few good women of means clubbed together and raised the funds -to give me an outfit and pay my passage to England. They engaged for me -one of the best staterooms in the ladies’ cabin.” - -“How is it—that I have never seen you—or suspected your presence on the -ship before? Have you been hiding from me?” - -“No; I have already told you that I did not know you were on board. You -have not seen me because I have been seasick in my stateroom. This is my -first day on deck. And now will you please to go away and leave me?” - -“Presently. By Jove, Jennie, you take things very coolly!” he exclaimed, -drawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his forehead, -on which beads of perspiration stood out. “What do you intend to do?” he -suddenly demanded. - -“Nothing to trouble you while you are on this ship. I do not wish to -see, or speak to, or even to know you here again, and I will not.” - -“I—well—I thank you for so much grace. But what will you do after you -shall have reached England?” - -“I shall tell my father the whole story—of which he has no suspicion -now—and I shall place myself in his hands for direction, and do whatever -he counsels me to do. He was my guard and guide all my life until I -threw off his safe authority and followed you.” - -“Pity!” muttered Gentleman Geff to himself. - -“And now,” said Jennie, “once more, and for the third time, I beg you to -leave me. Let this distressing and most improper interview come to an -end at once. I think it is both sinful and shameful, in view of the past -and the present, for you to speak to me, or even to look at me. Perhaps -I am doing wrong in keeping quiet. Perhaps I ought to denounce you to -the captain and officers of this ship.” - -“That would be quite useless, my girl,” exclaimed Gentleman Geff, daring -to speak contemptuously for the first time during the interview, yet -still quaking between the conflicting passions of terror and defiance; -“you could not prove anything against me here.” - -“Probably not; and my interference would not only be useless, but worse -than useless; it would make an ugly scandal, and create a great -disturbance. No, I will do nothing until I take counsel with my father. -But let me give you this warning: My father is to meet me at Liverpool. -Do not let him see you then! And now, Capt. Montgomery, if you do not -leave me, I shall be obliged to go to my room,” Jennie concluded. - -Gentleman Geff turned away. It was time, for people were leaving the -dining saloon and coming up on deck. - -Several people—men, women and children—passed Jennie on their way -forward; nearly every one of these glanced at Jennie with more or less -interest; for hers was a new face. Now, in the beginning of a sea voyage -nearly all the passengers are strangers to each other. But after eight -days, when every one on board is known to the other by sight, a new face -is an event. And this face was fair, pensive and interesting, and it -belonged to a young woman who seemed to be quite alone on board. - -Among those who passed was a superbly beautiful woman, whose Juno-like -form was wrapped in a rich fur-lined cloak, the hood of which was drawn -over her lovely head, partly concealing the glory of her red, gold-hued -hair, and half shading the radiance of her blond and blooming -complexion. - -This goddess did something more than glance at the pretty, pale, -childlike form reclining there. She stopped and gazed at her for a -moment, and then, when Jennie lowered her eyes, the goddess passed on. - -When the stream of passengers had all gone forward Jennie drew a sigh of -relief and composed herself to rest and to think over the sudden, -overwhelming interview which had just passed between herself and her -husband. - -Jennie was troubled, not in her affections—for if Kightly Montgomery had -not succeeded in slaying her, he had certainly managed to kill her love -for him—but in her conscience. Was she right in letting him go on in his -course of evil? Ought she not to stop it? But could she, even if she -tried? And she shrank from trying. For if she should succeed in exposing -him, what a terrible mortification it would be to that unfortunate young -lady whom he had feloniously married; who was reported to be as -religious and charitable as she was beautiful and accomplished; who, -even in the busy week before her wedding day, had given time to go out -shopping for her—Jennie’s—outfit; and whom it was now too late to save, -since she had been living with her supposed husband for a week. - -To expose him now, and here, would be to degrade her before all the -ship’s passengers, so that all who now admired, honored or envied her, -would soon pity and avoid her. - -Jennie could not bring an “unoffending” fellow creature to that pass; -and if her forbearance was a sin, she hoped the Lord would pardon her -for His sake who pitied the sinful woman. - -While Jennie was “wrestling” so in the spirit, the stewardess came up -and put her baby in her arms, smiling, and saying: - -“As I was passing by your stateroom I just looked in to see if all was -right, and then I saw this little thing lying wide awake and crowing to -herself as good as pie. And I thought I would wrap her up and bring her -to you for a breath of this good, fresh air, which, if it was doing you -good, wouldn’t do her harm. Was I right?” - -“Oh, yes, Mrs. Hopkins. And I thank you so much,” said Jennie, as she -stooped and kissed the babe that lay upon her lap; but Mrs. Hopkins had -already gone about her business. - -Jennie smiled and cooed to the little one, enjoying its presence, and -rejoicing that Kightly Montgomery was gone from her side and was not -likely to return. She had purposely avoided speaking of the child to -him. She was glad that he had not once inquired about it. She had almost -a superstitious dread of his seeing, touching or even knowing of the -babe, for fear that his evil nature might, in some moral, physical or, -perhaps, occult way, bring harm to the little innocent. - -She was still bending over the babe, when a soft, sweet, melodious voice -addressed her. - -“Pardon me, you are Mrs. Montgomery, are you not?” - -Jennie looked up. The goddess had come back. Jennie did not know her, -but she answered quietly: - -“Yes, madam.” - -“I am Mrs. Randolph Hay; and that I had heard of you and become -interested in you must be my excuse for intruding my acquaintance on -you,” added the beauty, with a bewitching smile. - -Jennie flushed, paled, trembled and cast down her eyes. - -This, then, was Lamia Leegh, the unfortunate young lady whom Kightly -Montgomery had married! - -Jennie felt sorry for her, standing there in all the pride and pomp of -her beauty and wealth. - -“You are very kind, madam,” was all that she could find to say, in a low -tone, with downcast eyes and flushed cheeks. - -The goddess thought the little woman overpowered by her own grandeur, -smiled condescendingly, and said complacently: - -“What a pretty baby you have! Girl or a boy?” - -“Girl, madam.” - -“That is right. I love girl babies. What is her name?” - -“She is not christened yet.” - -“How old is she?” - -“Two months on the third of this month, madam.” - -“Ah! She is well grown for that age. I need not ask if she has good -health. She looks so well.” - -“Oh, yes, madam. Thank Heaven!” - -“This is the first time you have been on deck, I think?” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“Suffered from seasickness, I fear.” - -“Yes, madam, until this morning.” - -“Ah! very sad to have missed all this beautiful voyage. An exceptionally -fine voyage. I have crossed many times, but have never experienced so -fine a voyage.” - -Jennie did not reply. - -“But, then, seasickness is a great benefit to some constitutions. I hope -that it will have been so in your case.” - -Still Jennie did not answer, except by a bow. - -“Have you quite recovered?” - -“Quite, ma’am, thank you.” - -“Yet you feel weak?” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“That will pass away. You are traveling quite alone, I believe.” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“Then, if I or Mr. Randolph Hay can be of any service to you, I hope you -will call on us. I, and I am sure Mr. Hay also, would be very much -pleased to serve you.” - -“I thank you, madam, very much, but my dear father will meet me at -Liverpool, so that I shall not need assistance. But equally I thank -you.” - -Jennie would have said more had she been able. She would have -acknowledged the services or the supposed services the lady had -performed for her before they had ever met; but her tongue “clove to the -roof of her mouth,” so to speak. It was all she could do to utter the -perfunctory words she had spoken, and these without raising her eyes to -the face of the goddess. - -Mrs. Randolph Hay bowed graciously, and passed on toward the cabin. - -“Poor thing!” breathed Jennie, with deep pity; “poor, poor thing! She, -so proud, so stately, so beautiful, to be cast down to the dust! Oh, no! -Heaven pardon me, but I must spare him for her sake! I will do nothing -until I see my father, and then I must tell him all, and be guided by -his counsels.” - -So then Jennie stooped and kissed her baby and felt at peace with all -the world. - -Lamia Leegh was not one to hide her “light under a bushel.” - -Before many hours had passed every one had heard the pathetic story of -the English curate’s young daughter, who had been married, deserted and -months afterward half murdered by her husband; how she had been taken to -the Samaritan Hospital, where she became a mother; how certain -charitable ladies had become so interested in her case that they had -made up a fund to give her and her child an outfit and send them home to -her father, and how she was on this very ship. - -Without claiming all the credit in so many words, Lamia Leegh had left -the impression on the minds of her hearers that she herself had been the -principal, if not the only, benefactress of Jennie Montgomery, and she -won applause for her benevolence. - -When Kightly Montgomery left his wife seated on the deck it was with a -feeling of relief to get out of her presence. He hurried to his -stateroom, looked around, and felt more relief to find that his deceived -bride was absent. - -He kept a private stock of strong old brandy in a case. He opened a -bottle, poured out half a goblet full, and drank it at a draught. - -Then he felt better still. - -“She will keep her word,” he said to himself. “If she had intended to -give me away, she would have done so before this. Any man would have -denounced another under such circumstances. But these women are -inexplicable. I wonder if her child was born alive? I wonder if it is -living, and if she has it with her, or if she has placed it in some -asylum? Impossible to say. She volunteers no information on the subject, -and I certainly cannot question her about it. She wishes me to avoid -her. I am quite willing to oblige her in that particular. I very much do -not wish to see her again. No, nor her father! I must not meet the -dominie, under present complications. It would be awkward. I shall shirk -that _rencontre_ by getting off the steamer at Queenstown and taking the -mail route to London via Kingstown and Holyhead. That will do!” - -He filled and drank another half goblet of brandy, and then sat staring -at his boots. - -Presently Lamia Leegh entered the stateroom. He looked up at her -stupidly. His face was flushed, his eyes were fishy. The air was full of -the smell of brandy. She knew that he had been drinking to intoxication; -but she cared too little for him and too much for herself to notice -this. He might drink himself to death, if he pleased, without any -interference from her, so that he supplied her with plenty of money -while he lived and left her a rich dower when he should die. - -So, without seeming to notice his state, she sat down on the sofa by him -and said, very pleasantly: - -“You remember hearing me speak of that interesting young woman from the -Samaritan Hospital for whom we furnished an outfit and engaged a -stateroom in this cabin to send her home to her people?” - -“What young woman? Ah! yes, I believe I do. What of her?” he drawled, -with assumed indifference. - -“I have just seen her and her child——” - -“Child?” he echoed involuntarily. - -“Yes; I told you she had a child, you remember.” - -“Aw—no—I didn’t.” - -“Oh, yes. Such a pretty little girl baby! They have been shut up in -their stateroom for a week on account of the mother’s seasickness. She -is out on deck to-day for the first time. When I saw a new face there I -thought it was hers, but was not certain, so I passed her by. But a -little later, when I saw the stewardess place a young infant in her -arms, then I felt almost certain, and I went up and spoke to her. A -prodigal daughter, I fear she is, but a most interesting one, and her -father is to meet her at Liverpool and——” - -“Lamia,” interrupted the man, “suppose we drop the subject. I am not at -all interested in your charity girl.” He yawned with a bored air. - -“Oh, very well; what shall we talk about? The end of the voyage? Well, I -heard the captain say that we shall be at Queenstown to-morrow morning.” - -“And we shall get off at Queenstown; do you hear?” - -“At Queenstown? But why, when our tickets are for Liverpool?” - -“Because I will it to be so!” said the man, in the sullen wilfulness of -intoxication. - -“Oh, very well! Quite right! So be it!” replied Lamia, with contemptuous -submission. - -And the discussion ended. - -She loosened her dress and laid herself down on the lower berth to take -an afternoon nap. - -He sat on the sofa, with the brandy bottle before him, and drank and -drank and drank. - -That evening Gentleman Geff was much too drunk to go into the dining -saloon, yet with the fatuity of drunkenness he insisted on doing so, and -he reeled out of his stateroom and through the cabin and up the stairs. -But had it not been for Lamia’s strong support he could never have -reached his seat at their table. Lamia was like Burns’ Nanny: - - “A handsome jaud and strang,” - -and she succeeded in setting him safe in his seat, where he sat bloated, -blear-eyed, and luckily stupid, instead of hilarious or quarrelsome. -Every one at table noticed his condition, and— - -“What a pity! What a pity!” was thought or whispered by one or another. - -It was a severe ordeal for Lamia, yet the trial was softened by the -thought that all the sympathies of the company were with her, all the -condemnation for him. - -She was glad at last when she succeeded in drawing him away from the -table to the privacy of their stateroom, where he fell upon the sofa and -sank into the heavy sleep of intoxication. - -Lamia felt too bitterly humiliated to return to the saloon or go on -deck, so she remained in the stateroom, reading a French book until it -was time to retire. - -Then she turned into her berth, leaving the stupefied inebriate to sleep -off the fumes of his brandy, lying on the sofa dressed as he was. - -Jennie Montgomery sat on deck with her baby on her knees until the -fading day and the freshening breeze warned her to seek shelter in the -cabin. - -Then she took her child to her stateroom, where soon after both were -rocked to sleep by the rolling of the ship. - -It was a dark night, partly overclouded, and with but few stars shining. - -A few passengers, all men, remained on deck to catch the first glimpse -of land. Before midnight the man on the lookout made Cape Clear -Lighthouse, and the ship ran along the coast of Ireland. - - - - - CHAPTER II - FATHER AND DAUGHTER - - -Jennie slept late that morning, and was finally awakened by the -cessation of the motion to which she had been accustomed day and night -for the last nine days. - -She started up and looked out. - -The ship was at anchor in the fine cove of Cork, and the window of her -stateroom commanded the harbor. She knew there was a crowd of people on -deck, but she felt no disposition to join them; so after she had washed -and dressed her child and herself she sat down and waited until the kind -stewardess brought her some breakfast. - -“Well, here we are at Queenstown,” said the good woman, as she set down -the breakfast tray. - -“Thank you for bringing my breakfast, Mrs. Hopkins. How long will we -remain here?” inquired Jennie. - -“Only a few hours. The bride and groom—Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay, you -know—have got off. I know they took their tickets for Liverpool, and -here they have got off at Queenstown. Now they will go to London by way -of Holyhead.” - -“Ah,” said Jennie, only because she felt that she must say something. - -“Very queer, I call it, for gentlemen and ladies to sacrifice their -passage money in that way. But when people have more money than they -know what to do with they do fling a good deal away, that’s certain.” - -Jennie began to drink her coffee to avoid the necessity of speaking. She -did not think it was queer that the pair should have left the steamer at -Queenstown, for she understood very well that Kightly Montgomery dared -not face her father at Liverpool. - -“Are they really off, Mrs. Hopkins?” she inquired at last. “Are you sure -they have actually gone?” - -“Went ashore in the boat half an hour ago. Took all their baggage from -the stateroom, but left that which is in the hold—big trunks that must -go to Liverpool, where they will claim them at the custom house, when -they themselves get there by the mail route,” replied the stewardess. - -This was a great relief to Jennie. To know that Kightly Montgomery was -really gone from the steamer, not to return, gave her a sense of freedom -and security which she had not experienced since she had discovered his -baleful presence on board. She felt now that she could go freely on the -deck and take her child there, and enjoy all the delights of the voyage -across the channel and up the Mersey, without the fear of meeting him or -his deceived bride. - -“I do not think, Mrs. Hopkins, that I shall trouble any one to bring my -meals to me here after this. I shall go to the public table,” she said. - -“It would be much better for you, my dear,” the stewardess replied. - -“And now that I have finished breakfast, I will take baby and go up on -deck.” - -“That will be better for you, too, my dear. Let me help you.” - -“Oh, no. I am quite well and ever so much stronger than I was yesterday. -Besides, the ship is quite still, so you see I can walk steadily and -carry baby.” - -But the stewardess resolutely took the child from the arms of the young -mother and carried it up before her. - -The deck was a crowded and busy scene. All the passengers were up there, -gazing out upon the beautiful scenery. But crowded as it was, the people -were nearly all standing, so it was easy for the stewardess to find a -good seat for the mother, to whom, when comfortably arranged, she gave -the child. - -Her fellow passengers took but little notice of Jennie now; they were -too much interested in other matters. She sat there and enjoyed the -scene until the ship got under way again and stood out for the mouth of -the Mersey. - -This last day on board Jennie enjoyed the voyage very much. She spent -nearly the whole day on deck, and left it with reluctance at night to -retire to her stateroom. That night she could scarcely sleep for the -excitement of anticipating her meeting with her father. - -Nevertheless, she was up and out on deck early the next morning. - -They were near the mouth of the Mersey. As soon as she had breakfasted -she packed up all her effects, so as to be ready to go on shore as soon -as the ship should land. - -Then she sat on deck to watch the shores until at last the steamer drew -near to the great English seaport and came to anchor. - -A steam tender from the piers was rapidly approaching the _Scorpio_. - -A great crowd of people were on board the tender, apparently coming to -meet friends on the _Scorpio_. - -Many field glasses were in active use in the hands of voyagers trying to -make out the persons of their friends. - -Jennie had no glass, but as she stood bending forward, straining her -eyes to see, a gentleman near her said: - -“Will you take my glass?” - -She thanked him, and took it, adjusted the lenses to her sight, and held -the instrument up to her eyes. - -A cry of joy had nearly broken from her lips. She saw her father -standing on the deck of the coming tender, looking well and happy. He, -too, had a glass, and was using it. She saw that he had seen her; he -took off his hat and waved it to her. She waved her hands. - -The tender was drawing very near, and now came a general waving of -handkerchiefs in salutation from the passengers on both steamers. - -In another minute the tender was alongside, the gangplank thrown down, -and the rush of friends to meet each other made a joyous confusion. - -Jennie found herself in her father’s arms, scarcely knowing how she got -there in such a crowd and confusion. - -“My daughter! my daughter! welcome! welcome! welcome! welcome to my -heart!” the father cried, in a breaking, choking voice, as he pressed -her fondly to his breast. - -“My own beloved father! Oh, thank the Lord—thank the Lord, that I see -you again! And my mother!—my darling mother!—how is she?” cried Jennie, -sobbing for joy. - -“Well, my dearest, well, thank Heaven! Sends fondest love to you, my -child, and waits your return with a joyful heart.” - -“Oh! how have I deserved this love and tenderness, this divine -compassion and forgiveness? Oh! my father, I ought to fall—not on your -neck—but at your feet, and say—what I feel! what I feel!—‘Father, I have -sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be -called thy child.’” - -“Hush! my darling, hush! We will talk later. Let us go away from here as -soon as possible. Where is your babe, Jennie?” - -“In my stateroom, dear father, fast asleep. Will you come down with me -and see her?” - -“Yes, dear.” - -The father and daughter struggled through the pressing crowd, and made -their way slowly and with difficulty down into the cabin, which was now -all “upside down” with ladies and ladies’ maids, and gentlemen and -valets, stewards and stewardesses, getting together their “traps” and -making ready to go on shore. - -Jennie took her father directly to her stateroom, where the pretty babe -lay sleeping on the lower berth. - -Jennie lifted the babe and placed it in her father’s arms. - -The minister received the child, raised his eyes, and solemnly invoked -God’s blessing on it, then stooped and pressed a kiss upon its brow. -Finally he returned the babe to its mother, saying: - -“Wrap her up, my dear. We must hurry, or we shall miss the first return -trip of the tender and have to wait for the second, which would cause us -to lose our train.” - -Jennie quickly folded the baby in the warm white cloak and hood which -had been given her by the Duncan children. - -“Now I will take her again and carry her for you. Do you take up your -hand-bag and parasol. I will speak to have the other things brought -after us,” said Mr. Campbell, as he led the way to the deck, carrying -the babe, and followed by his daughter. - -The passengers had all left the steamer. - -Men were carrying baggage on board the tender. Mr. Campbell spoke to one -of them, directing him to the stateroom of his daughter. Then, holding -the babe on one arm, he gave the other to Jennie, and led her across the -gangplank and on board the tender, where by this time all the passengers -were gathered. - -In a few minutes the tender put off from the ship and steamed to the -piers, where she soon arrived. The passengers swarmed out. - -Mr. Campbell called a cab, put his daughter and her child into it, -followed them and gave the order: To the Lime Street Railway Station. - -When they reached the place the minister stopped the cab, got out and -took the babe from her mother’s arms, and led the way into a -second-class waiting-room. - -“You will stay here, my dear,” he said, “while I go back to the custom -house and get your baggage through. You will not mind?” - -“Oh, no, dearest father. I shall not mind anything, except missing the -sight of your dear face, even for a minute. It seems to me as if I -should never bear to lose sight of you again.” - -“I shall come back as soon as possible, my dear,” said the minister; and -he found for her a comfortable seat, placed the baby in her arms, and so -left her in the waiting-room. - -Jennie sat there without feeling the time pass wearily, after all; her -mind was too full of delightful anticipations of homegoing. - -Nearly an hour passed, and then her father came hurrying in. - -“It is all done, my dear. Your trunks are rescued from the custom house -and deposited on the train, and now we have five minutes left in which -to take some refreshments, if you would like,” he said cheerfully. - -“I want nothing, dear papa, for I have not very long since breakfasted. -But you?” she inquired. - -“No, dear; nothing for me. And now, my dear child, I have at length -found breathing space in this hurry and confusion to ask about your -husband. You did not name him at all in your letter, from which I argued -ill; and if there had been time, I should have written to you for some -explanation; but I knew that you were then to sail in a few days, and -that you would reach Liverpool before my letter could get to New York. -Now, my dear, I must ask you some very serious questions.” - -“Yes, papa.” - -“How is it that you, the daughter of a clergyman of the Church of -England, and the wife of an ex-captain in her majesty’s army, should -have been confined in the charity ward of a public hospital?” - -Jennie shuddered, but did not answer. - -“How was it that you had to be indebted to alms for your outfit and -passage to this country? Why did you not mention your husband’s name in -your letter to me? Why are you here alone? Where is your husband? Tell -me, child. Do not fear or hesitate to tell your father everything,” he -said, tenderly taking her hand. - -“Oh, papa, your goodness goes to my heart. He has left me, papa,” she -said, and then suddenly lifting her soft, dark eyes, full of truth and -candor, to meet her father’s pitying gaze, she added: “But do not mind -that, dear papa. I do not. The best thing he ever did for me was to -leave me.” - -“Jennie!” - -“Yes, papa dear, it was, indeed. I am not saying this from pride or -bravado, but because it is the very truth itself, that the best thing he -ever did for me was to leave me.” - -“Oh, Jennie!” - -“Yes, papa.” - -“You do not care for him, then?” - -“No, dear papa.” - -“And yet, my child, he is your husband still,” said the minister. - -“Unhappily, yes; but he has left me. It is the kindest act of his life -toward me.” - -“And you never wish to see him again, Jennie?” - -“Never, nor to hear of him. I am happy now in a quiet way. I wish for -nothing better on earth than to live in a quiet way at the darling -little parsonage with you and dearest mamma and my blessed baby.” - -Suddenly into the pathos and gravity of Jennie’s face came a ripple of -humor as she spoke of her child and looked at her father. - -The Rev. James Campbell was certainly the youngest grandfather in -England, if not in Europe. He was really but thirty-eight years old, and -might have been taken for a mere boy, for he was of medium height and of -slight and elegant form, with a shapely head, pure, clean-cut classic -features, a clear, fair complexion and dark chestnut hair, parted in the -middle, cut rather short and slightly curling. He wore neither beard nor -mustache. His dress was a clerical suit of black cloth of the cheapest -quality and somewhat threadbare; but it perfectly fitted his faultless -figure; but his linen collar and cuffs were spotless even after a -railway journey in the second-class cars and his gloves were neatly -mended. - -Altogether he looked very young and even boyish, as we said, though he -was in middle life and a grandfather. - -But for the close resemblance between the father and daughter, their -fellow passengers in the waiting-room must have taken them for a married -pair, and “o’er young to marry also.” - -“But about this man, Jennie,” he said, seeing that she paused. “Where is -he now?” - -“In Ireland, I believe, papa. It is a long story I have to tell when we -get home. And—here is our train.” - -The whistle sounded, and the minister took his grandchild from his -daughter and carried it, followed by its mother, to their seats in one -of the second-class carriages. - - - - - CHAPTER III - HER WELCOME HOME - - -The curate and his daughter found themselves in a crowded carriage of -the second class, on the Great Northern express train from Liverpool to -Glasgow. I say crowded, for though no one was standing up, yet many of -the passengers had well-grown children on their laps. - -Mr. Campbell and Jennie took the last two vacant seats. - -“Give me the baby now, papa dear,” said the little mother, holding opt -her arms, as soon as she had settled herself in her seat. - -“No, dear, the child is sleeping. If she wakes and frets, I will hand -her over to you; otherwise I will hold her to rest you,” replied her -father. - -Their fellow travelers turned and looked at the young grandfather and -the youthful mother, and very naturally drew false conclusions. - -They were mostly of the class who listen, comment and observe. - -“It’s easy to see that is a young married pair, with their first child,” -whispered a fat, florid country woman, with one baby sitting on her -knees and two on the floor at her feet. - -“He won’t be quite so fond of loading himself down with, the kids when -there’s a dozen of ’em, maybe,” replied her companion, a stout, brown -woman with a burden of two heavy bundles and a basket on and about her. - -The minister and his daughter heard every word of this whispered -colloquy with slight smiles of amusement; but it warned them that they -could not indulge in any very confidential discourse there, where every -whispered word could be so distinctly heard. - -All further explanations would have to be postponed until they should -reach Medge Parsonage. And that was a hundred miles off as yet. Nothing -but the commonplaces of conversation could pass between them. - -“Are you quite comfortable, my dear?” - -“Yes, thank you.” - -“You don’t feel the draught from that window?” - -“No, papa dear.” Etcetera. - -Jennie took particular pains to call her young father “papa” whenever -she spoke to him. - -But that did not enlighten their companions as to the true relations -between the two. They thought it only one more silly affectation of the -youthful parents. Many vain young mothers called their husbands “papa” -for baby, as many proud young fathers called their wives “mamma” also -for baby. - -So merely trivial talk passed between the father and daughter until the -train blew the steam whistle and “slowed” into the first station after -leaving Liverpool, stopped ten seconds and sped on again. - -Jennie had not seen her native country for two years, and she looked out -at the vanishing station almost with the curiosity of a stranger, and -then exclaimed with a look of astonishment: - -“Why, papa! That was Huton!” - -“Well, my dear!” - -Jennie looked at her father in amazement. - -“What is the matter, my dear?” inquired the curate. - -“Matter? Why, papa, matter enough. We have certainly taken the wrong -train. Huton is on the Great Northern, and not the South Eastern -Railroad. This is not the way to Medge.” - -“But, dear, we are not going to Medge.” - -“Not going to Medge?” - -“No, my dear.” - -Jennie stared. - -“I also have something to tell you which I have reserved until now,” -said the minister gravely. - -“What is it, papa? Oh, what is it?” demanded the young girl in sudden -alarm. “You said my dear mother was quite well. If she were in heaven, -you might say with truth she was quite well; but oh! how could I bear -it! Oh, how could I bear it! Is she quite well in this world?” - -“Quite well, here on earth, my dear. Compose yourself.” - -“Then what is it?” - -“Nothing to alarm you, Jennie.” - -“Where are we going?” - -“To Haymore, in the North Biding of Yorkshire, where I have a curacy.” - -“To Hay—— And you never told me!” said Jennie, aghast with astonishment. -All her life, until her hasty marriage, two years before, she had lived -with her parents at Medge. She considered them as fixtures to that spot. -She would as soon have expected the old parish church and graveyard to -be plucked up by the roots from Medge and transplanted to Haymore as to -have her father and mother removed from the first to the last named -place. “‘Haymore!’” she said to herself—“‘Haymore!’ Surely that was the -name of the manor to which Kightly Montgomery had fallen heir. And in -Yorkshire, too. It must be the same place! She and her father were going -there! And—Kightly Montgomery, under his new name, and with his new -bride, was also going there. The first as the lord of the manor, the -second as pastor of the parish. What was to be done? They must surely -meet, and then?” Jennie was dumfounded from consternation. - -“Why, what ails you, Jennie, my child?” inquired her father. - -She found her tongue at last, and said, because she did not know what -else to say: - -“You never told me.” - -“I explained that I reserved the information for our meeting,” gently -replied the curate. - -“How long have you been at Haymore?” was her next question. - -“About twelve weeks. Not quite three months. But don’t look so -horrified, my dear. If I had changed my religion, instead of having -changed my parish, you could scarcely seem more confounded,” said the -curate, with a little laugh. - -“Oh, papa dear, what made you leave dear old Medge?” she dolefully -inquired. - -“Necessity, Jennie. My old rector died——” - -“Oh! Good old Dr. Twomby! Has he gone?” exclaimed Jennie in a tone of -grief. - -“Yes, dear—full of years and honors. It would be impious to mourn the -departure of so sainted a man. His successor was a young Oxonian, who -gave me warning and put in a classmate of his own as his curate.” - -“And what made you go so far—quite from the south to the north of -England?” - -“Again necessity, my dear. I was out of employment, and your mother and -myself were living in cheap lodgings in the village, when I received a -letter from Dr. Orton—an old friend of my father, who had heard of my -misfortune—inviting me to come with my wife to Haymore and take his -parish and occupy his parsonage for a year, during which he was ordered -by his physician to travel for his health. I gratefully accepted the -offer.” - -“And how do you like it, papa?” - -“Very much, my dear. The rectory is a beautiful old house, very -conveniently fitted with all modern improvements and very comfortably -furnished. The house is covered with ivy and the porches with climbing -plants. There is a luxuriant old garden, full of flowers and herbs and -all kinds of fruits and vegetables that our climate will grow, and there -is a lawn with old oak trees.” - -“How lovely!” impulsively exclaimed Jennie. But then her face fell. - -“Yes, it is lovely,” assented the minister, who had not noticed the -change in his child’s countenance. “And I like it so well that I shall -grieve to leave it.” - -“Oh, but you are sure of it for a twelvemonth!” exclaimed Jennie, eager -to please her father, yet again stopping short at the sudden memory of -what must meet him at Haymore. - -“Oh, no, my dear. I am not sure of the place for a month even. Orton has -heart disease, and, though he may live for months or years, he may drop -dead at any moment. He may be dead now. And in such a case, you see, the -very same thing that happened to me at Medge would happen again at -Haymore.” - -“How, papa?” - -“If Orton should die, his successor would turn me adrift, to put in my -place some friend of his own.” - -“Who has the appointing of the incumbent? The bishop of the diocese or -some nobleman?” - -“Neither. The living is attached to Haymore Manor, and is in the gift of -the new squire.” - -In the gift of the new squire, and that squire Kightly Montgomery under -a new name! - -The thought of this complication turned Jennie pale. In her dismay and -confusion, she could settle upon but one course—the course she had -thought of all along—to tell her father everything; every single fact -she knew concerning Kightly Montgomery. - -The minister was now watching her curiously, anxiously. - -To cover her distress, she asked the first question that came into her -head, and not an irrelevant one: - -“Were the terms favorable upon which you agreed to take this parish for -a year, papa?” - -“Well, yes, I suppose so. The living is worth six hundred pounds a year, -and Orton gives me two hundred, with the use of the rectory.” - -“And you do all the work for one-third of the salary?” - -“Yes, my dear; and I am very glad to do it. And there are hundreds of -capable clergymen in England who would be glad to do it for one-sixth of -the salary.” - -Then Mr. Campbell suddenly became conscious that he was talking too -freely of private matters in a crowded car. He looked about him. But -every one seemed too sleepy to attend to him. - -The woman with the three babies was sound asleep, as was her brood, and -the group reminded the curate of a fat, cozy pussy cat and her kittens. - -The woman with the bundles was nodding, catching herself, gripping her -parcels and nodding again. - -These were the nearest passengers to the curate and his daughter, and -had evidently not been listening to the conversation. - -The express had been running on a long while without stopping, but now, -about noon, the steam horn shrieked again and the train drew into the -station of a large manufacturing town, stopped two minutes and roared on -again. - -The swift motion of the train, that sent nearly all the grown people to -nodding and all the children to sleep, seemed to have so overpowered the -nerves of Jennie’s young baby as to steep it into a deep stupor. - -The little mother at length grew anxious. - -“Don’t you think baby sleeps too soundly, papa?” she inquired uneasily. - -“Oh, no, my dear! She is all right. She will sleep until we get home and -then wake up as bright as a daisy.” - -“Ten minutes for refreshments!” shouted the guard at the window, as he -climbed along on the outside of the carriage, while the train drew into -the station of another large town. - -“Will you get out, Jennie?” inquired her father. - -“No papa dear, I would much rather not,” she answered. - -“Then take the baby while I go,” he said, carefully placing the little -one on her lap within her arms. - -“Now, what shall I bring you, dear?” he next inquired. - -“A cup of tea and a biscuit, papa, nothing more,” replied Jennie, who -remembered the slender purse of the curate, who could ill afford the -journey to Liverpool and back with his daughter. - -She had ten pounds left of her own, but did not dare to offer them to -her father, whose very poverty made him sensitive. She meant, however, -when she should reach the parsonage, to put that little fund, through -her mother’s agency, into the general household expenses. - -Mr. Campbell left the carriage and went across to the refreshment rooms. - -Jennie’s fellow passengers of the second class did not leave their -seats, but took out luncheon baskets, and soon the air was full of the -sound of popping ginger beer or ale or porter bottles, while bread and -cheese and beef were laid out on laps covered with brown wrapping paper -for a tablecloth. - -The woman with the babies and the woman with the bundles, who sat -opposite to Jennie and seemed to be friends, drew the cork of brown -stout—one holding the bottle, and the other pulling the screw with all -her might. - -Then the mother filled a little thick glass tumbler with the foaming -porter and held it to Jennie, saying kindly: - -“Drink it, dearie. It’ll do ’ee good; ’specially as ye’re nussing a -young babe.” - -Jennie, touched by the kindness, smiled her sweetest and thanked her -neighbor, explaining that her heart was weak and that she could not bear -strong porter. - -“Then I hope your good man will bring ’ee some light wine,” replied the -woman. - -“The gentleman with me is my father,” said Jennie, glad to make this -explanation. - -“Your fey—— And the grandfeyther o’ the bairn?” exclaimed the woman, -opening her eyes with astonishment. - -“Yes,” said Jennie. - -“Well, it’s wonderful! He didn’t look a day over twenty-five. Do he, -now, M’riah?” she said, appealing to her companion of the bundles. - -“He don’t that,” replied the latter. - -But here the three babies became clamorous for something to eat, and the -two women turned their attention to them. And though this party had been -nibbling cake or candy, more or less, during the whole journey, as is -too much the custom of their class, yet now they all ate as if they had -fasted since breakfast. - -Mr. Campbell reappeared with a little tray in his hand, on which was -arranged a cup of tea, a small plate of cream toast, and another plate -with the wing of a roast chicken, which he placed on the vacant seat, -while he relieved Jennie of her sleeping babe. - -“Oh, dear papa, to think that you should remember my taste for milk -toast and chicken, and bring them to me! This is killing the fatted -calf, indeed,” said Jennie gratefully as she took the tray upon her lap. - -Mr. Campbell then sat down on the vacant seat with the baby in his arms; -but he made no reply except by a smile. - -The train started. - -“Oh, dear,” said Jennie, “we are carrying off the crockery ware!” - -“Not at all,” replied the father. “The return train will bring them back -and leave them at this station. Such is the arrangement.” - -“Then my mind is easy. Did you get anything to eat, papa dear?” - -“Oh, yes; a slice of cold beef and a cup of coffee while they were -fixing up your tray.” - -“I am glad,” said Jennie; and she gave her attention to her tray, and -exhibited such a healthy appetite that not a crumb or a drop was left -when she finished her meal and put the little service under the seat. - -The train rushed on, nor stopped again until nearly sunset, when it ran -in at the station of York. - -Here the father and daughter got off to take a branch line to Chuxton, -the nearest railway station to Haymore. - -Willingly would the curate have stayed here overnight to show his -daughter the great cathedral city, which she had never seen, had not two -good reasons prevented—first, his poverty, which could not bear the -expense; secondly, the anxiety of the wife and mother at home to see her -long-absent daughter, which, he knew, could not tolerate the delay. - -“Some day we will return to see this ancient city, my dear; but to-day -we must hurry home to your mother,” he said as he led her into the -waiting-room to stay till their train should be ready to start. - -There the “little angel” awoke in no angelic temper, but impatient to be -nursed. - -Jennie took her into the dressing-room, where she attended to all her -needs, and presently brought her back smiling and good-natured to the -arms of her grandfather. - -“I foresee what an idol the grandmother will make of this little one,” -he said as he received her. - -“The idea of calling my pretty young mamma a grandmother! It is well she -is not a woman of fashion, or she would be disgusted,” said Jennie, -laughing. - -“As it is, she will be delighted,” said her father, looking curiously at -his child. He was very pleasantly disappointed in Jennie. He had feared -to meet in her a heartbroken woman—a forsaken wife, whom none of her -“old blessings” of father and mother, home and family affection, could -possibly console—and he found a daughter who had let go the unfaithful -husband and comforted herself with her unoffending babe, and meant even -to enjoy herself with her parents at the parsonage in the performance of -every filial, maternal and domestic duty. And that this disposition was -not forced, but was natural, might be seen and heard in her contented -countenance and frequent laugh. Even now, if the thought would recur -that the curate’s temporary parish lay in the manor of Haymore, and the -reigning or pretending squire was Kightly Montgomery, still, upon later -reflection, she felt so much confidence in the wisdom and goodness of -her father that she dismissed all dread of any fatal or even serious -result of his meeting with her husband. And for one circumstance Jennie -felt glad and grateful, namely, for the change of residence from Medge, -where everybody had known her from childhood, and might, therefore, -wonder and ask questions why the curate’s married daughter should return -home to live without her husband—since it was clear from her dress that -she was not a widow. - -No such wonder could be excited at Haymore; no such questions asked. The -people were strangers. They had taken their temporary pastor upon -well-merited trust, and his family history was unknown to them. - -As for the other matter connected with Kightly Montgomery, she would -tell her father everything, and he would know what to do. - -Kightly Montgomery, she knew, never by any chance entered a church, so -her father would never see him there. - -As for the curate, when she should have told him who the new squire -really was, it was unlikely that Mr. Campbell would feel disposed to -make a clerical call at the manor house. - -Under the divine Providence she would leave everything to her father. - -While the father and daughter were still chatting pleasantly together a -door was flung open and a voice was heard announcing: - -“Train for Chuxton.” - -“Come, my child,” said Mr. Campbell, rising with the baby on his arms -and crossing the room, followed by Jennie. - -They went out to the train and entered the second-class carriage. - -In five minutes, after they were comfortably seated, the train was off, -speeding away from the old cathedral city in a northerly direction -across the moors. - -The sun had not yet set, though it was on the edge of the horizon. -Jennie fixed her eyes on the vastness of the brown moor that stretched, -or rather rolled, away in all directions to meet the horizon. It -reminded her of the sea. It seemed a boundless ocean, enchanted into -stillness; for not a breath of air disturbed the motionless heather, and -not a hamlet or a farmhouse broke the illusion. No doubt there were -farms and villages not far off, but they were in the hollows, out of -sight. - -Presently Jennie turned from the window to look at her baby. The little -one was fast asleep again; so was the curate, who had been traveling all -night and all day, for twenty-four hours. He had his arms so securely -wound around the sleeping child that Jennie forbore to take it away, -lest she should disturb their rest. - -The sun set; twilight faded; yet the train sped on over the moor. - -Presently Jennie observed twinkling lights before her that seemed to be -on the edge of the horizon. As the train sped on toward those lights she -recognized them as belonging to a station. - -Then the steam horn shrieked and waked up all the passengers, and the -guide shouted: - -“Chuxton!” - -“Here we are, my dear,” said the curate, waking up as the train stopped. - -There were but few passengers who got out here, and there were all sorts -of conveyances waiting for them, from donkey carts to fine coaches. - -“How far are we from Haymore, papa?” inquired Jennie as her father led -her from the train to the waiting-room of the station. - -“Ten miles, my dear.” - -“Is there a stagecoach to Haymore?” - -“No, my dear, but I took the precaution to engage the fly from the Red -Fox to meet us here for this train. If it has not come yet—and I do not -see it—it will be here soon.” - -“How much expense I put you to, dear papa!” - -“Tut, tut! there is a time to spend! Whether there is a time to save or -not, while there is the least need anywhere of spending, I really do not -know! There’s the fly now!” exclaimed the curate, at the sound of -wheels, suddenly breaking off in his discourse and going to the door. - -“Well, Nahum, you are on time, I see!” said Mr. Campbell, speaking -cheerfully to some one in the outer darkness. - -“Ay, bound to be, sir, when your reverence had bespoken the kerridge,” -answered a buoyant voice from the shades. - -“Come, my dear! But, Nahum, perhaps the mule wants food and water?” - -“Not she, sir! She had her oats and her water and her mug of ale! You’d -no believe, sir, how that lass loves ale! So, with your leave, I’ll e’en -give her another mug of that same, whiles she rests five minutes. No -longer, your reverence. No longer, sir.” - -“Quite right. Let us know when you are ready.” - -The curate sat down by his daughter. - -In something less than five minutes the voice of the hostler was heard, -calling: - -“All right now, sir. Miss Nancy and me is at your service, sir.” - -“Miss Nancy?” inquired Jennie as she arose and took her father’s arm. - -“This mule, of course. Nahum is an oddity! His avocations are multiform. -He is coachman, groom, hostler and handy man generally at the Red Fox,” -Mr. Campbell explained as he took his daughter out to the carriage. - -It was not a “fly” at all, though they called it so; it was a strong, -snug carryall, covered all over with a black tarpaulin, except the -front, which was open. It was drawn by a stout mule. - -Mr. Campbell put his daughter and her child in the sheltered back seat -and placed himself beside the coachman in the front. And the carryall -rolled away over the murky moor until it seemed to be swallowed up in -the darkness. - -But “Miss Nancy” knew the road, and, if she had not known it, her driver -did. So they went on in safety. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - STARTLING NEWS - - -Nahum opened conversation with Mr. Campbell. - -“The last of the workmen have left to-day, sir,” he said. - -“The workmen? Oh, the decorators and upholsterers who were fitting up -Haymore Hold for the young squire and his bride.” - -“Yes, sir. All is finished in the very latest style, and with all the -modernest improvements. And they do say as there is not a place in the -North Riding aquil to it for magnificence and splendiferousness! They do -that!” - -“Ah, when are the young pair expected?” - -“That I can’t jest tell you, sir. But Mr. Isaiah Prowt, the bailiff, do -say as he is to receive a week’s notice of their arrival, so as to have -the triumphanting arches put up all along the road leading into the -village and the avenue from the park gate to the hall.” - -“That will make a fine display, Nahum, but an expensive one. However, I -suppose it will give pleasure to the people.” - -“It will that, your reverence. And that is not all! They are to have -tents and markees and pavilions all over the lawn, and a great outdoor -gala for all the tenants, and even the villagers who are not tenants, -and for the whole neighborhood; in fact, men, women, and children, sir, -are to be feasted on the fat of the land, and have dances and games, and -all that, all day long, and at night fireworks! All at the young -squire’s expense.” - -“It will be a boon to the village, where there is never even a market -day or a fair.” - -“It will that, sir. Why, the people have gone stark, staring mad over -the very thought of it, though they don’t the least know when it is to -come off. But they are looking forrid to it. For, as you say, sir, they -never have anything here. Chuxton is the market town, and the fairs go -there on market day.” - -“So they never have a public fête unless it is given by the lord of the -manor on the occasion of a marriage, or a coming of age in the family?” - -“And never then, up to this toime. Such a day as this coming on has -never been seen at Haymore in the memory of man. The old squires never -did nothing like it.” - -“No? Why was that?” - -“Oh, they kept themselves aloof. They never thought about their tenants, -except to keep them pretty strict and punctuous in the payment of the -rents. Otherwise they looked down on them as dirt underneath of their -feet.” - -“Let us hope, from the present signs, that the new squire will be more -genial and benevolent.” - -“He will that, sir. You may depend upon it. And no doubt he will have -the old church repaired. And you’ll do your part to welcome the bridal -pair. You’ll have the parish school children drilled to stand aich side -the road by which they come and sing songs and throw flowers? And you’ll -have the bellringers to ring out joyful peals of music?” - -“Oh, yes, certainly, with all my heart. It falls in the way of my office -to see that the parish school children and the bellringers take their -part and do their duties properly in the ceremonial reception of the -bridal couple,” cordially responded Mr. Campbell. - -No more was said just then. - -Jennie was aghast. She had not thought that Kightly Montgomery would -bring his deceived bride, who was not a lawful wife, to England so soon -after his _rencontre_ with herself on shipboard. When he had left the -steamer at Queenstown, to avoid meeting her father at Liverpool, she had -supposed that he would go to the continent for his bridal tour, and -return later to England. But instead of doing so he had written a letter -from Queenstown, on the morning of his arrival there, to announce his -intention of coming to Haymore. This letter he must have posted on the -same morning, so that it came over land and sea by the shorter route of -the Irish mail, and reached its destination at Haymore before she, by -the longer way of the channel, arrived at Liverpool. But why did he -think of coming to Haymore at this time? - -A little reflection told her why. She tried to put herself in Kightly -Montgomery’s place and think out his motives. Then she understood. - -Kightly Montgomery knew certainly that Jennie had gone home to her -father’s, but he believed, erroneously, that she had gone to him in his -old parish at Medge, in Hantz, where the curate had lived and preached -for twenty years past, and where he was likely to continue to minister -for forty years to come. - -Nearly the whole length of England lay between Medge, on the south coast -of Hantz, and Haymore, in the North Riding of Yorkshire. He might, -therefore, go safely to his manor house without fear of being troubled -by Jennie or her people. He could not dream, of course, that the Rev. -James Campbell had left Medge to become the pastor of the parish of -Haymore, where his daughter would be with him; else he would as soon -have rushed into a burning furnace as to come to Yorkshire. - -So far Jennie reasoned out correctly the meaning of Kightly Montgomery’s -course. But there was more cause for his false sense of security than -she knew anything about. - -Kightly Montgomery had not the least idea that Jennie, by putting odds -and ends of facts and probabilities together, had made herself -acquainted with his fraudulent claim to the name of Hay, and to the -inheritance of Haymore. He thought she knew nothing beyond the fact of -his second marriage, not even the name under which he married, and that, -therefore, she could not know how or where to seek him, even if she were -disposed to do so, which he utterly disbelieved. With his wronged wife -at the extreme south of England, and in ignorance of his present name -and residence, he felt perfectly safe in coming to Haymore in the north, -to gratify his pride and vanity by a triumphant entry, with his queenly -and beautiful bride, into the village and on to the manor house. - -He little dreamed of the dread Nemesis awaiting him there. - -“Jennie, my darling, why are you so silent?” inquired Mr. Campbell, -breaking in upon his daughter’s reverie. - -“I have been listening, papa.” - -“But you have not heard anything for the last half hour. We have not -been talking.” - -“I listened with a great deal of interest while you did talk, papa.” - -“And you have heard that in a few days, perhaps, we are going to have -grand doings at Haymore to welcome the young squire and his bride.” - -“Yes, papa dear, I heard all that.” - -“What do you think of it?” - -“I think it will be a very exciting time,” evasively replied the young -woman. - -“Jennie, my dear, you speak so faintly. Are you tired?” - -“Yes, papa dear—rather tired.” - -“Take courage, then, for we are near home, where the mother is waiting -to welcome us with a bright fire and a nice tea table,” said the curate. - -“Yes, papa. Don’t mind me, dear. It is a healthful weariness that will -make me sleep all the better,” replied Jennie. - -But the last words were fairly jolted out of her mouth, for the carryall -was now ascending a very steep hill. - -The curate turned his head again to speak to his daughter. - -“We are entering the village, dear, and the church and parsonage are at -this end. You can see nothing from where you sit behind there. If you -could you would see a stony road, with paving stones set sharp edge up -to make a hold for horses’ hoofs, otherwise they could scarcely climb it -And you would see high stone walls on each side of the road, with -plantations behind them. These walls, my dear, inclose Haymore Park, -through a portion of which this road runs. On the top of the hill is -Haymore Old Church and Rectory. There is our home at present. There is -an old graveyard around the church, and an old garden around the -rectory. All this is at the entrance of the village, which stretches on -both sides of the road over the hill and down the declivity. All around -the manor, the church and the village roll the everlasting moors from -the center to the circumference. There, my dear, you have a picture of -our home, though you cannot see it.” - -“I see it in my mind’s eye, papa.” - -All this time the mule was toiling slowly, painfully up the steep -ascent. - -Jennie, straining her eyes to look forward, saw nothing for a while but -the black forms of her father and the driver against the darkness, but -presently fitful lights glanced in sight and disappeared. After a while -they grew more steady and stationary, and Jennie recognized - - “The lights in the village,” - -though they were still distant before her. - -“Here we are,” said the curate blithely as the panting mule drew up -before a gate in a wall, all covered with ivy or some other creeping -plant, Jennie could not see what. - -Beyond the gate and the wall was the front of a two-story, double stone -house, like the wall, all covered with creeping vines, but with a bright -firelight and lamplight gleaming redly from the windows of the lower -room on the right-hand side. - -The curate lifted his daughter and her child from the carryall and -opened the gate that led between two low stone walls, also covered with -green creepers, up to the steps of the long porch before the house. But -some one in the house had heard the sound of wheels, for the front door -was flung open, a small, slender woman rushed out and threw herself, -sobbing, into the arms of Jennie. - -“Oh, my darling! my darling! my darling!” - -“Oh, mother! mother! mother!” - -That was all they could say, as they clasped each other, sobbing. - -Mr. Campbell went on before them into the house, carrying the baby out -of the night air. - -“Come in, come in, come in! Oh, welcome home, my child! my child!” -sobbed the mother, as, with her arm around the waist of her daughter, -she supported her into the house, through the hall and into that warm, -bright room, where a sea coal fire was blazing in the grate, and a -chandelier hung from the ceiling just over a dainty white cloth that -covered the tea table, on which a pretty china service was arranged. - -The parlor was furnished entirely in crimson—carpet, curtains, chair and -sofa covers were all crimson, which, in the lamplight and firelight, -gave a very warm, bright glow to the room, which the travelers had seen -from the carryall without. - -Jennie was placed in an easy-chair, and her fur-lined cloak and beaver -hat taken off her by gentle mother hands. Even in that sacred moment of -meeting, the feminine instinct caused the curate’s wife to hold up and -admire the rich cloak and hat that had been given Jennie by her New York -friends. - -“You haven’t looked at baby, mother dear,” said Jennie. - -“Oh! so I haven’t! How could I forget!” exclaimed the young grandmother; -and down went cloak and hat, disregarded, on the floor, while she turned -to look for the little queen who was destined to ascend the throne of -the household. - -Mr. Campbell, smiling at this impetuosity, placed the infant in her -arms. - -And then—but I will spare my readers the rhapsodies that ensued. - -Meanwhile, everything else was forgotten. - -But Nahum, the driver, remembered he had to collect his fare, and so -“made bold” to walk into the curate’s house, and stand, hat in hand, at -the parlor door. As he stood in the full glare of the light, he appeared -a little, sturdy, muscular man, with a strange mixture of complexion; -for while his skin was swarthy and his short hair, stubby beard and -heavy eyebrows were as black as jet, his eyes were light blue. But the -most characteristic feature in his remarkable face was his nose, which -was large and turned up so that his nostrils described a semicircle -upward. It was a “mocking nose,” of the most distinct type. He wore a -suit of coarse blue tweed, and carried a battered felt hat. - -“Well, Nahum!” exclaimed the curate on catching sight of him. - -“Please, your reverence, it is eight shillings, sir.” - -“Oh! Ah! Yes!” said the curate. - -And the price was paid and the driver dismissed. - -Esther Campbell and her recovered daughter were now seated close -together on the crimson sofa, which was drawn up on one side of the -blazing fire. Esther had her grandchild on her lap and her right arm -around Jennie’s waist, while Jennie’s head rested on her shoulder. - -“Come, Hetty, my love, we want our tea,” said the curate. - -Mrs. Campbell put the baby in its mother’s arms and rang the bell. - -A Yorkshire woman of middle age, dressed in a blue cheviot cloth skirt -and a gay striped sack of many colors, came in with the tea urn and put -it on the table. She was a stranger to Jennie, but she courtesied to the -“master’s” daughter, who returned her greeting with a smile and bow. - -“Where is our old servant, mamma?” inquired Jennie when the new one had -left the room. - -“Oh, Julia? She married the greengrocer and left us just before we left -Medge.” - -“Why, Julia was forty years old at least!” - -“Yes, dear, and the greengrocer was a widower of fifty with all his -children grown up, married and settled.” - -“A good match for Julia, then!” - -“Excellent.” - -The Yorkshire woman re-entered the room, bringing in a tray on which was -arranged hot muffins, dried toast, broiled chicken and fried ham, all of -which she placed on the table. - -“This is our daughter, Mrs. Montgomery, whom we have been expecting to -see for so long a time, Elspeth,” said Mrs. Campbell, speaking from her -own genial nature and overflowing happiness. - -Elspeth courtesied again and smiled, but said nothing; she was rather -shy. She took the baby, however, when the curate and his wife and -daughter sat down to the table. - -Esther Campbell looked a young, fair and pretty woman as she presided -over the tea urn. She was really thirty-five years old, but did not look -more than twenty-three. But, then, she had always had excellent health, -few family cares and no sorrows, except in the marriage of her daughter, -and even that was a light one compared to what that wayward daughter was -made to suffer. She was a woman of medium height and slender form, for -she had escaped the malady of fat to which women of middle age or those -approaching middle age are subjected. Her figure was girlish, her -features were delicate, her complexion very fair, with a faint rose hue -over cheeks and chin. Her hair was brown, bright and curly. She wore her -only Sunday’s dress, a dark green silk with a little lace at the throat -and wrists. It was put on in honor of her daughter’s return. - -The party of three waited on themselves and each other. - -When all were served Hetty Campbell would most eagerly have asked her -daughter: - -“Where is your husband?” but that she feared something was very wrong -with him and dared not question Jennie on this subject in the presence -of the new servant. - -Jennie had a healthy young appetite, and ate heartily, to the great -comfort of her mother, who joyously watched her plate and kept it well -supplied. - -“Do you like this place, mamma?” inquired Jennie at length. - -“Yes, my dear, on many accounts I like it very much. Of course we felt a -natural regret at leaving a home where we had lived so long that we -seemed grown into it, like a cluster of oysters in their shells, which -to shuck out is death. But as it was not our own act there was no -compunction; and as it was inevitable, there had to be resignation. We -are happy here, my dear.” - -“But the old friends—the people papa has christened and married and -comforted and instructed for twenty years! For he was there before you -were married, mamma.” - -“Yes, it was hard to leave them. But the knowledge that we must submit -to the inevitable strengthened us even for that.” - -“And how do you like the people here, mamma?” - -“Very much, indeed. They are exceedingly kind.” - -Elspeth having set the baby in its mother’s lap, and left the room to -take a new supply of hot muffins from the oven, Jennie lowered her voice -and inquired: - -“And the one humble woman among the people with whom we are in daily -intercourse, and on whom so much of our comfort must depend, mamma?” - -“You mean our new servant?” - -“Of course. Is she a worthy successor to Julia?” - -“A most worthy one. Elspeth—the widow Longman—has not always been in -service. She has had reverses and great sorrows—the loss of her husband -while she was still a young woman with an infant boy, a boy whom she -spoiled as only a widowed mother can spoil an only child. He grew up, so -it is said, not really wicked or worthless, but idle, wilful, -headstrong, and fond of pleasure and of roving. One day the poor mother -lost her temper, under some great provocation, and told him he was the -one grief and trial of her life, or words to that effect. He took his -hat and walked out of the house. She thought he had only gone to the -barn or to the village, and her burst of grief and anger being over, she -prepared that evening an extra good supper for her boy, that they might -make up their misunderstanding. But, though she waited long and -anxiously, he did not come, nor has he ever come, nor has she ever heard -one word of him since that day when he walked out of the house in sullen -wrath.” - -“Oh, how dreadful! how dreadful!” exclaimed Jennie. - -“Yes; it nearly killed her. The farm, with no one to look after it, went -to rack and ruin. She was compelled to sell off all the stock to pay the -rent, and then to give up the lease and go into service. That is -Elspeth’s sad little story,” said Mrs. Campbell, hurriedly concluding as -she saw the subject of her discourse re-entering the room with the plate -of hot muffins in hand. - -But no one wanted any more. - -The curate gave thanks and they arose from the table. - -The mother and daughter reseated themselves on the crimson sofa in the -glow of the fire, Hetty Campbell took the baby on her lap, and the -fondling and idolizing recommenced, and might have continued all night, -but that James Campbell wisely put an end to the play. - -“Come!” he said. “I have been traveling night and day for twenty-four -hours, and am well worn out. So is Jennie, though she has only traveled -one day by rail. So we had better go straight to bed. Listen, Hetty: I -have had our daughter all day long to myself. You take her to your bosom -to-night.” - -“Eh?” exclaimed his wife, not understanding. - -“Do you sleep with Jennie and the precious baby to-night. That will make -you all very happy, though I am not so sure about the baby. Only don’t -talk all night. Put off all mutual explanations until the morning,” the -curate explained. - -Jennie sprang to her father and embraced him, exclaiming: - -“Oh, papa! how good of you!” - -Hetty, with the baby in her arms, came up on the other side, kissed him, -and said: - -“How kindly thoughtful of you, dear Jim!” - -The curate laughed. - -“There! there! I shall not break my heart for your absence this one -night, Hetty, my dear. I shall sleep too soundly. And the arrangement is -on no account to be a perpetual one.” - -Elspeth, having cleared away the tea table, was called in, and the -evening worship was offered earlier than usual. - -Mr. Campbell in the course of his devotions prayed for the safe return -of the poor widow’s son. This he had always done morning and evening -since Elspeth had been living with the family. - -It was a great comfort to the poor mother, who one day said to Mrs. -Campbell: - -“No minister ever prayed for my poor lad to come back before. Now the -minister prays for him, I know he will come. I see it a’ as plain as if -my eyes were opened; the maister’s prayer goes straight up to the -Throne; the Lord receives it, and sends its spirit straight down to my -boy’s heart, wherever he may be on the footstool; and he will feel it -a-drawing and a-drawing of him until he turns his steps homeward. I know -it! And, oh! mem, the one that kept me from going crazy with the trouble -was the thought that go where he would, he wouldn’t get out of the -Lord’s world; and if I didn’t know where he was, the Lord did; and if I -couldn’t see him, the Lord could. So I prayed for him, and by the Lord’s -help kept up.” - -When the prayers were over the little family circle separated. - -Elspeth went back to her kitchen to wash up her dishes. - -Hetty and Jennie kissed the husband and father good-night and went up to -a spacious, white-draped chamber which was over the parlor, and where a -fine sea coal fire was burning; and there they went to rest. - - - - - CHAPTER V - IN THE SILVER MOON MINING CAMP - - -It was the close of a dark November day. Heavy mists hung over the gulch -and settled upon the mountain stream that ran between high banks at its -bottom, and upon the miners’ huts that dotted either side. - -The men had returned from their work and many of them were seeking rest -and refreshment in the shed dignified with the name of saloon, where -they paid very high prices for very bad whisky, and won or lost money -with very grimy cards. - -One excuse for them was this—the camp was a new one, far out of -civilization. It had been called into existence by the hue and cry of a -new and grand discovery of ore in a mine which the discoverers -christened the Silver Moon. It was formed mostly of men who had been -unsuccessful in other mines. And there was not a woman in it. - -Three men sat on the ground in the rudest of rude stone huts, built up -irregularly of small fragments of rocks, and roofed with slender logs. -There was neither door, window nor chimney, but there was an opening in -front, protected by a buffalo hide—to keep the heat in, and there was a -hole in the roof to let the smoke out. The floor was the solid earth, -and the fire was built against the wall. There was scarcely any -furniture to be seen, only a heap of coarse blankets in one corner, and -an iron pot and a few tin cups and plates in another. - -Judy’s well-ordered hut at Grizzly was a little palace compared to this -squalid shelter. - -The three men sitting on the earth floor, before the fire, which -afforded the only light in the place, were unkempt, unwashed and -altogether about the roughest-looking savages since the prehistoric -ages. Yet they were three as different men as could be found anywhere. - -The first was perhaps the very tallest man ever seen outside of a show, -grandly proportioned, with a fine head, fine face, clear, blue eyes, and -yellow hair that flowed to his shoulders, and a yellow beard that fell -to his bosom. He was clothed in a buckskin coat trimmed with fur, now -much the worse for wear, and buckskin leggings and buffalo-hide boots. -In a word, this Hercules was our old friend, Samson Longman. - -The second was a medium-sized and elderly man, with a thin, red face, -red beard and a bald head. He was clothed in a coarse, gray shirt, duck -trousers, a nondescript jacket, and many wrappings of sackcloth and sage -grass around his feet and ankles, by way of boots. He was our old -acquaintance, Andrew Quin. - -The third was a slight yet muscular youth, with clear, bright -complexion, dark gray eyes and dark brown hair, a mocking nose and a -laughing mouth. He wore a coarse, red flannel shirt, duck trousers, -tucked into hide boots, a knit-woolen blouse, and battered felt hat. Of -course, he was young Michael Man. - -All three of the men lived together like friends in this hut. This -evening they were all very grave, not to say gloomy. - -Old Dandy Quin, sitting flat upon the ground and engaged in unwinding -the strips of sacking from his tired feet, was the first to break a -silence that had continued some time. - -“I’m gettin’ tired of this yere,” he grumbled. “Here we’ve been more’n -two months working like mules, and never got a gleam o’ this yere -moonlight. It’s moon-calves we are, all on us. Ef it hadn’t been for -Longman and his gun we’d ’a’ starved! that’s what we would—’a’ starved! -We never had no luck nowhere! Leastways, I never had! I’ve been nigh -twenty years slaving in the mines, digging in the bowels of the yeth, -working hard and living harder, and running like a luny after a -jack-o’-lantern, from one grand discov’ry to another, but never got no -more but hard work and harder living out of any on ’em, and now I’m -sixty years old come next Martinmas, and I’m gettin’ tired on it,” he -concluded, flinging his rags aside and caressing his poor feet. - -“Dandy, ye poor ould craychur, haven’t ye pit a cint itself, nowhere?” -questioned Mike in a sympathetic tone. - -“Oh, jest eleven hund’ed dollar in the savings bank at Sacramento, and -that I hev saved up, dollar be dollar, in the last twenty years, -a-working hard an’ the—Regiment hard, and a-starving and a-stinting of -meself to do it! And since here we have come to this Silver Moon Mine it -hev been all loss and no gain! And as I said before, we’d ’a’ starved to -death ef it hadn’t been for Longman and his gun. And now he is going -back on us!” concluded Dandy in an injured tone and with a look of -reproach at the giant. - -“I should be sorry to do that,” said Longman, stroking his long, yellow -beard. “But, Dandy, why won’t you go with me? I will gladly take you. -You are alone here and growing old. Have you no natural longings to see -your native country? Come! come along with me!” - -“Why can’t you stay here? How do you know but to-morrow the stroke of a -pick may strike a vein of solid silver running down to the very middle -of the earth?” demanded Dandy. - -“Ah, that’s it! Delusive hope has been the will-o’-the-wisp that has led -you on from post to pillar for twenty years of unsuccess.” - -“Well, after working twenty years for almost nothing, you wouldn’t have -a man miss the chance of turning up a fortune with the very next stroke -of his pick—a fortune that would pay him for all he has suffered—would -you?” - -“No, certainly not, if such luck were probable. But, Dandy, my friend, -your pick has never struck a vein, and I think it never will. Be -sensible. Draw your money from the savings bank, and come home to -England with me. That sum will be a fortune to you in England, and set -you up in any light business you may like; or buy you a small annuity, -sufficient for your comforts for the rest of your life. Think of it, -Dandy,” said Longman, with kindly interest in the lonely man. - -“What makes you so hot-foot all of a sudden to go back to England?” -demanded Dandy. “A great, strapping, very strapping young fellow like -you to leave the grand field of enterprise to go back to England?” - -Longman sighed and asked in his turn: - -“What brought you here, Dandy?” - -“Well, I s’pose it was the goold.” - -“Ay, man, the gold—the gold fever. I have nothing to say against it, -because it has, on the whole, enriched and blessed the world; or, at -least, I hope and believe so. But you, to come out here to the gold -country at forty years of age, and to spend twenty years of life as hard -as the life of a convict, in the pursuit of an ignis-fatuus that always -eluded you, still under the delusion that the next stroke of your pick -may discover a vein, is to have lost so much of your life! Think of what -I have said, Dandy, and redeem and enjoy the rest.” - -“I’ll think of it, Maister Longman. But ye hevn’t answered my question. -What brought yerself out? Not the goold fever, I’ll be bound. I hev -never seed ye handle a pick or shool.” - -“No, not the gold fever. I was never fond of digging or delving, or any -sort of hard work. That was my ruin, Dandy,” said Longman with a deep -sigh. - -“Ruin!” exclaimed old Andrew, looking at the speaker from head to foot. -“Well, then, ye are the foinest spacimin of a well-presarved ruin as -ever I seed in my loife.” - -“My hatred of steady work made me an outcast from my home and an exile -from my country, Dandy,” gravely replied the hunter. - -“A great, tall, strong fellow like you to be lazy!” exclaimed Dandy. - -“No, not lazy; but averse to steady, hard, confining work,” said -Longman. - -“An’ for that same did the feyther of ye turn ye adrift, me poor Sam?” -inquired Mike, striking into the talk. - -“No, not my father—he was dead; but my mother did.” - -“Your mither! Hivenly mither av us all!” exclaimed Mike, stupidly -staring at the hunter. - -“I deserved it, Michael,” said the hunter. - -“Och, thin, tell us all and about it, Sam, dear,” said Mike -sympathetically. - -And Longman briefly told his little story. - -“You see, my father was a small farmer at Chuxton, in the North Riding -of Yorkshire. I do not remember him, though I hope some day to make his -acquaintance in the upper world. He left this one when I was a very -young child—the first and only child,” he began. - -“‘The only son of his mother, and she a widow?’ Ye’ll be looked after, -Sam, be the Lord Himsilf, or ilse all the howly fathers have taiched me -is not true,” put in Mike. - -“Our neighbors used to say that my mother spoiled me. I have often heard -them say it to her before my face when I was a bairn.” - -“And, no doobt, they telled the truth,” exclaimed Dandy. - -“And what would the mither say to that?” inquired Mike. - -“She would only draw me to her side and kiss me, to comfort me for the -mortification of hearing such words. But you were right, Dandy. The -neighbors did tell the truth. My poor, widowed young mother did spoil -her only child in her excessive fondness for him.” - -“Well, it was naterel,” admitted Dandy. - -“I grew up a very idle and headstrong boy, fonder of consorting with -gamekeepers, and even with poachers, than of working on our farm. I -think if I could have been taken on as an assistant by some gamekeeper, -who would have given me plenty to do among guns and game, I might have -been contented to stay at home; but I could get no such place. Besides, -my work was badly wanted on the farm. We were not able to hire laborers. -My mother, myself and one boy were expected to do everything; but I -neglected my part,” said Longman with a deep sigh. - -No one made any reply. - -“Mother bore with me very patiently for all the years I was growing; but -by the time I was twenty years old, and as strong and tall for that age -as if I had been twenty-five instead, and when the farm had been growing -from bad to worse for years, my poor mother frequently lost her temper -and scolded me—scolded me, a man, whom she had never scolded as a boy.” - -“And, faith, ye desarved it, hinny,” said Dandy. - -“Yes, I know I did. But one thing I can remember with satisfaction: bad -as I was, I never gave my mother what she would have called ‘the back -answer.’ I never in my life spoke an undutiful word to my mother.” - -“Good for ye, Sam!” exclaimed Mike. - -“When her words were very sharp and bitter, and I could stand them no -longer, I used to take my hat and walk out, and never come back till -night. And she—poor mother!—she would have a nice, hot supper waiting -for her prodigal son, with some extra luxury that she could ill afford -added to the feast.” - -“An’ she was a good craychur, be that same token,” exclaimed Mike. - -“Yes, she was good—very good—but I tired her beyond her patience. One -day the crisis came; the rent was behindhand; the bailiff was -threatening; there seemed danger of an eviction. Then my mother, in her -grief and anger, turned on me, said that if it had not been for my -worthlessness the farm would have been prosperous. She had said that so -often before that the words had lost all significance to me. But she -ended in saying this: - -“‘If it hadn’t been for you, Samson, I shouldn’t ha’ been brought to -this disgrace and poverty. The cost of keeping you in idleness would -have paid an able-bodied farm laborer, who would have kept the place in -order. And now I tell you, if you can’t work here, you had better go and -find employment somewhere else to suit you.’” - -“Faix, it was harrd on ye,” said Mike. - -“It was, though she did not mean it. She was half crazy with the trouble -that I might have warded off from her. But, boys,” added Longman -solemnly, “her words fell on me stinging, burning, smarting, humiliating -as a lash laid on a naked back. Without a word I took up my hat and -walked out of the house, as I had often done before on other but less -bitter occasions; only this time I did not return. That was five years -ago. I have never seen my mother since.” - -A solemn silence fell on the trio. - -Presently old Dandy inquired: - -“An’ where did ye go thin? Ye couldn’t hev hed mooch money in yer -pocket, if there was none to pay the rint.” - -“No, I had not a shilling. I walked into Chuxton, sold my silver watch -for all it would bring, and then took a third-class ticket in the cheap -parliamentary train to London, shipped as an able-bodied seaman on board -the _Auro_, bound from St. Katherine’s Docks to the Golden Gate.” - -“So it was for goold ye kem, after all,” said Dandy. - -“Not at all. I never went near the mines in search of gold. I drew my -pay at ’Frisco, bought a couple of guns, a lot of ammunition, some -boots, and struck into the wilderness, where there was plenty of game -and no game laws.” - -“An’ how hev ye thriven? Ye see, I niver knowed ye afore we met in the -woods last summer,” said Dandy. - -“I have done well. I have been an industrious hunter. I have supplied -forts, post agencies, miners’ camps and military caravans with game. I -have saved more money than you have, Dandy; and I am going home to old -England—on a visit, mind you, not to stay—I wouldn’t stay there on any -terms, unless some one would make me head keeper on some estate where -there is plenty of game. Even that would be a poor substitute for the -grand, free life of the hunter in these wilds. But, Mike, why do you -look at me in that strange way?” Longman inquired of the Irish boy, who -had been sitting with his elbows on his knees, and his head held between -the palms of his hands, gazing silently and steadfastly into the face of -the hunter. - -“Yis, I’m lookin’ at ye; I’m observin’ ye, Misther Longman. That’s so! -That’s a fact there’s no denyin’,” replied Mike, without removing his -gaze, which was becoming embarrassing, if not offensive, to the -good-natured hunter. - -“But why? What’s the matter?” demanded Longman, shifting his position so -as to get out of the range of Mike’s eyes’ fire. - -“What is the matther? Och! he ax what is the matther! Haven’t ye just -telled us how ye ran away fram yer poor withowed mither in her throuble, -an’ nivir wint back to ax how she windded through it? An’ ye ax me -what’s the matther?” exclaimed Mike with much excitement. - -“But, Mike, she turned me out of doors.” - -“No, she didn’t, Misther Longman. Not aven on your own showin’, which -was like to be in your own favor. She upbreeded you for idleness an’ -neglect av dooty. An’ she was right! An’ she told yer if ye couldn’t -worruk on the farrm ye’d betther go and worruk somewheres else. An’ she -was right again, so she was.” - -“Well, she was right; and I took her at her word and left to work -somewhere else.” - -“Yis; an’ ye were the vagabond av the worruld for doin’ that same, -Misther Longman. Sure ye knew she nivir meant it, an’ yez leaving must -ha’ broke her heart, and yez her onliest one in the worruld.” - -“What would you have had me to do, Mike?” inquired Longman very -patiently. - -“What wad I hev had ye to do, is it? Why, to hev gone to worruk on the -farm and mindded yer ways from that hour, and hed the rint reddy on pay -day. That’s what I wud hev had ye to do, Misther Longman. I nivir hed a -mither; me and me twin swishter, Judy, was orphint childer—born so—and -nivir knowed a mither. But if I hed hed a mither, and she had got mad at -me and put me out av the front door, I’d ’a’ kem in at the back one. I -wud nivir hev deserted me own mither—nivir! But I nivir hed a mither, -and thim as has blessings nivir vally thim. I’m spaking me mind, Misther -Longman, and ye may dooble me oop and fling me over the bank and brek me -neck at the bottom of the gulch if ye like, for ye’re twice as big and -strong as meself, but I’m bound to spake me mind!” exclaimed the Irish -boy excitedly, digging his hands in his trousers pockets and -straightening himself up. - -“Give me your hand, Mike. You are a brave, true young fellow, and all -that you say is right. Now, then, I must tell you that I have not -neglected my mother. I wrote to her before I sailed from London, telling -her where I was going. I also wrote to her from ’Frisco. I have written -to her from every available point where I have taken up my abode. But I -have never had an answer to any letter. She must have discarded me, and -perhaps married again, for she was a comely woman, only thirty-eight -years old, when I left her.” - -“Did it nivir occur till ye that the letthers might be lost in a wild, -onsartin part uv the worruld like this?” inquired Mike. - -“Yes, I have thought of that. And lately—I don’t know why—the thought -has grown upon me that my poor mother may be lonely and pining for her -prodigal son. I cannot get rid of that thought. It haunts me day and -night. That is why I have made up my mind to go home and make friends -with my mother.” - -“As if she ivir was anything else but frinds wi’ ye, Sam, darlint!” -broke in Mike. He had stopped calling his comrade “Misther Longman.” - -“I didn’t mean that exactly. I meant to make it all up with her, and to -her, if I could. To give her all the money I have saved, to make her -comfortable for life; and then come back to the free woods and the free -game.” - -“Less ye could win to a keeper’s place in the owld counthry,” put in -Mike. - -“Yes; but that’s a dream,” laughed Longman. - -“Aven so, it’s a dhrame that may kem as thrue as me own swishter Judy’s -dhrame about her swateharrt that brought her all through the Black Woods -to find him at last.” - -“I don’t in the least see how my dream—which was not even a dream, but a -passing thought of a bare possibility—can come true,” laughed Longman. - -“Then I’ll tell you!” exclaimed Mike. “Ye know Ran, whose life ye -saved?” - -“Why, of course!” exclaimed Longman in surprise at the vain question. - -“Well, I only wanted to mind ye of him. Ye know he has kum into a great -estate?” - -“Of course, I have heard that, too.” - -“Very well, thin. He’s going to live on it. And if ye be in England, and -wanting av a keeper’s place, what more natural than Misther Hay should -pit you over his own kivvirs? You thet saved his life!” - -“But, of course, the estate has a gamekeeper already.” - -“Tare an’ ’ounds, man, and supposin’ an’ if it has! Misther Hay wud kape -two keepers before he’d lave you out’n the cold!” indignantly exclaimed -Mike. - -“I know he would do all he possibly could for any of us. But it is time -enough to think of all that when we get to England,” said Longman. - -“And are you bent on going, Mr. Longman?” inquired Andrew Quin. - -“‘Bent on’ it, Dandy? I can’t help it. Something is drawing me. I feel -it all the time.” - -“On a visit?” - -“On a visit for the present.” - -“Then I go with you, sir, and come back with you, if I feel like -it—though it is giving up the chance of a grand future.” - -“But it is making reasonably sure of enjoying the rest of your days, -Dandy.” - -“Well, mates, if you’ll both be laving, it’s meself that will go wid -you. The ould fort will be right on our road, and I can shtop there to -see me swishter Judy, and then I’ll go back to Grizzly. Grizzly ain’t no -great shakes; but for a steady-going old mining camp, that will nivir -promise to mek a man a millingnaire, nor yet starve him to death, but -sorter keep him a-going on fair hopes and fair profits, why, thin, give -me ould Grizzly!” - -“Good for you, Mike, my bold boy! We shall be glad to have your company, -even as far as the fort, if no further,” said Longman, clapping his -young comrade on the shoulder. - -“Well, now, boys,” said Andrew, “I hev hed twenty years’ experience in -these regions, where both of you are, relatively speaking, newcomers. -And I tell you, airly as it is in the season, there’s snow not far off, -and if so be we are bound to start, we had better be off to-morrow. What -do you say?” - -“I’m riddy,” said Mike. - -“And you, Mr. Longman?” - -“I agree with you. - - “‘Laugh those who can! Weep those who may! - Southward we march by break of day!’” - - - - - CHAPTER VI - AT THE FORT - - -It was a glorious November morning, not yet cold in the latitude of the -fort. Though there was a large wood fire in the sitting-room of the -colonel’s quarters, the front windows were open, admitting the fresh air -as well as the bright sunshine. - -The colonel’s wife sat in her sewing-chair beside her work-stand at some -little distance from the open window and nearer the fire, engaged in -making a frock for one of her younger girls. - -Judy sat at the window with a book in her hand, dividing her attention -between the open page and the open view. - -There was no one else in the room. The colonel and his eldest son, -“Jim,” were at the adjutant’s office. All the younger children were in -the schoolroom under the charge of their eldest sister, “Betty,” who was -their teacher. - -Judy had been three months separated from her brother, and from her -betrothed, and under the exclusive care of Mrs. Moseley. Quick, witty, -imitative and anxious to improve, Judy had made rapid advances. She had -recovered all the half-forgotten book knowledge taught her at the -convent school, and had progressed considerably beyond that. Hearing -only good English spoken about her, she had gradually dropped her sweet -dialect, which both Col. Moseley and Mr. Jim declared to be a lost -charm, and only occasionally, under emotion or excitement, she would -suddenly fall into it again. She was also better dressed than formerly; -though again the colonel and his son declared not so picturesquely. - -Mrs. Moseley had judiciously expended a portion of the money left by -Mike for the benefit of his sister, and her short, red skirt and black -jacket had given place to a brown dress with white cuffs and collars, -exchanged on Sundays for a fine, dark blue one with embroidered frills. - -The mail came twice a week to the fort, and every mail brought Judy two -or more letters from Ran; for he wrote nearly every day. The desire to -answer all Ran’s letters was a great spur to improvement in Judy, who, -showing all her compositions to Mrs. Moseley, begging her to correct the -spelling, grammar and punctuation, and then carefully studying these -corrections before making the clean copy that finally went to her -betrothed, made greater progress in her education than she could have -accomplished under any other circumstances. - -Ran kept her advised of everything that happened to him, and his latest -communications assured her that his cause was going on swimmingly, -though, of course, there were, necessarily, “law’s delays.” - -To corroborate this, Mrs. Moseley received occasional letters from her -old schoolmate, Mrs. Samuel Walling, who gave her chapter after chapter -of what she called this romance in real life; how much the hero of it -was admired by all to whom she had introduced him; how from his dark -beauty and grace he was dubbed the Oriental Prince; how he was taken up -by every one in society except the Vansitarts, who, in the interests of -their late governess and favorite, and with idiotic obstinacy, -disallowed a claim that every one else was forced to admit; last of all, -how young Randolph Hay had discovered a lovely cousin, and sole -surviving relative, in Palma Hay Stuart, the only child of his late -Uncle James Jordan Hay, and the wife of Cleve Stuart, a man of fortune -from Mississippi. - -Much of this information—all of it, in fact, except that which concerned -his “lionizing”—Ran had faithfully imparted to Judy. And she rejoiced in -his present prosperity and future prospects. - -Judy had but one source of anxiety—her Brother Mike! Three letters she -had received from him since he took leave of her in September; but these -had reached her at intervals of a week or ten days apart, and since the -last of these three, two months had passed and she had heard nothing. - -There were times when she grew very much distressed, and felt almost -sure that the party of adventurers to which Mike belonged had been -massacred. - -On this splendid November morning Judy, sitting at the window, with her -grammar in hand, was more than usually downcast. - -First, there was the news that had come to her from her betrothed, that -he was to sail for England about the first of December with Mr. Will -Walling, to go through certain forms, preliminary to taking possession -of the Hay estate and ousting the present usurper; his absence must be -indefinite; but he would return as soon as possible—he hoped in two -months’ time at the furthest. That news depressed the girl very much; -but that was not all. The mail that brought Ran’s letter brought none -from Mike. It was at least her twentieth disappointment, but she felt it -as bitterly as if it had been her first. - -“What is the matter, Judy?” at length inquired the colonel’s wife, -noticing the dejected countenance of her protégée. - -“Oh, ma’am, it’s about Mike! I am sure the Indians must have—— Oh, -ma’am, I can’t spake it!” the girl answered, breaking off with a sob. - -“My poor child, there is really no cause for such keen anxiety. Your -brother and his party have gone far beyond the mail route in their -search for silver. He cannot send a letter to you from his present camp, -except by the chance of some one returning toward the mail routes. Be -patient and hopeful, Judy.” - -“I do try, ma’am; but it is awful to lose one’s brother in such a—void!” - -“There is no void in which any creature can be lost, Judy; for the -Creator is everywhere, and He is our Father as well, and none of His -children can stray out of His presence. It must be dreadful to have any -beloved one disappear mysteriously, but it is certain that the Lord -knows where he or she is, and will take care of His child, living or -dead!” - -“I believe that, ma’am,” said Judy, trying to rally her spirits. - -She returned to the study of her book; but her thoughts were too -distracted for concentration, and her eyes wandered from the page to the -open window. The great gates of the fort were directly in front of the -colonel’s quarters and about a hundred yards distant. - -Presently Judy, looking out toward them, dropped her book, started up -and exclaimed: - -“Why! What!” - -And then she stopped and gazed through the window. - -“What is it, my child?” inquired the lady. - -“A strange officer, ma’am, and several strange soldiers coming in at the -gate.” - -Mrs. Moseley laid down her work and came and joined Judy at the window. - -A small troop of horsemen, about ten men in all, with an officer at -their head, marched through the gate, wheeled to the right, and rode up -to the adjutant’s quarters, where they all dismounted. - -The officer, attended by an orderly, went into the office. - -The men remained outside, standing by their horses. - -“What does it mean, ma’am, do you think?” inquired Judy. - -“I don’t know. It may be some small reinforcement on their way to some -other fort. We shall hear when the colonel comes in.” - -As the lady spoke the orderly came out of the adjutant’s office and -spoke to the dismounted men, who immediately dispersed, leading their -horses away. - -The two women stood a few minutes longer at the window, and then, as -there was nothing more to be learned by looking out, each returned to -her employment. - -Even after that, Judy continued to glance from her lesson in syntax, -through the open window that commanded the great gates and a broad sweep -of the fort grounds; but nothing occurred to reward her vigilance or -satisfy her curiosity. - -At length she grew tired of watching, and gave her undivided attention -to her lesson. - -Two hours passed, and the colonel might have been seen coming from the -adjutant’s office to his own quarters, with a brisk step and a radiant -face, with full twenty years taken off his fifty. - -“Good news, Dolly, my dear!” he said, bursting into the sitting-room. -“Good news! Dispatches from Washington. Call all the children together -to hear the good news.” - -“Go, Judy, dear, and bring them,” exclaimed Mrs. Moseley in eager -anticipation. - -Judy flew to do her bidding, and soon the room was filled with the -progeny of the military patriarch. - -“Where’s Jim?” demanded the colonel, looking around. - -“Here I am, father,” said the eldest son, entering the room at that -moment. - -“And Betty?” - -“Here, father, behind you. So close to you that you can’t see me!” - -“And Baby Lu?” - -“Right there between your feet, father. If you look down you will see -her.” - -“Hadn’t you better call the roll, dad? Then you will be sure that we are -all here!” cried Master Clin. - -“Hold your tongue, you young scamp, and listen!” exclaimed the colonel, -laughing. Then turning to his wife gravely, almost tearfully, he said: - -“Dolly, my dear, it has come at last! It has been a long time coming. I -have got my promotion and six months’ leave!” - -Mrs. Moseley jumped from her chair. - -“Oh, Moses! Moses! I am so glad! So thankful! I never expected it in our -lifetime—never! I looked that we should live and die among the frontier -forts, with no change but from one to another. Oh, thank Heaven! Thank -Heaven!” - -“Maj. Lawson will succeed me in command here. Capt. King, who brought -the dispatches, remains here with the ten new recruits who are to take -the places of as many of our soldiers whose terms of service are drawing -to a close. There, children, there is my good news. Now be off with you -and rollic over it!” he added, turning to the young people. - -“Oh! father dear, are we really going East? Really going to the cities -and to civilization?” breathlessly demanded Betty, thinking this news -much too good, too wonderful to be true. - -And the faces of all the other children eagerly seconded their elder -sister’s question. - -“Really and truly, my dear ones. And my pleasure in going is -immeasurably heightened by the joy the anticipation of the change gives -you all. Now run away; I wish to speak to your mother,” he said, smiling -on them. - -“Tell us one thing, dad, do!” said Master Clinton. - -“Well, what is it, my boy?” - -“When are we going?” - -“In a very few days. I cannot tell you yet what day. Now run away.” - -The boy scampered off, and his army of brothers and sisters followed -him. - -Judy also would have left the room, but Mrs. Moseley stopped her. - -“Stay, my dear girl. We only sent the children away that they might give -vent to their joy in the open air, as you hear them doing. Now, Moses!” -said the lady. - -“Well, my dear, it is only this: King will dine with us to-day, and I -have invited Lawson, and Hill, and Perry to meet him. Is it too late to -make some suitable addition to our family spread?” anxiously inquired -the colonel. - -“Oh! no, not if we put back the dinner an hour. There is a fine haunch -of venison, a buffalo tongue, and a bunch of prairie fowl that I have -just bought from an Indian. And then I will open my preserve jars in -honor of the occasion, though I did not intend to touch them until -Christmas.” - -“You are a tower of strength, Dolly, my dear, but we shall not be here -at Christmas. Now I have something to do over at the office. I will be -back with King a little while before dinner,” concluded the colonel as -he left the room. - -“What is the matter, Judy? You look very grave, my dear,” said Mrs. -Moseley, who was at last at leisure to observe her protégée. - -“Oh, ma’am!” said the girl in a broken voice, being almost in tears; -“oh, dear, ma’am, it is not that I am not glad and thankful for the good -fortune that has come to you and the dear colonel and the childer——” - -“Children, Judy.” - -“Yes, ma’am, children, to be sure, only sometimes I do forget.” - -“Well, you were saying——” - -“Yes, ma’am, I was saying I am glad and thankful to the Lord and all the -saints for the blessing and the prosperity that have come to you; but, -but, but——” - -“But what, Judy?” - -The girl did not answer, but burst into tears and sobbed aloud. - -“Judy! Judy! Judy! What is all this? Are you crying because you are -doubtful of what is to become of you?” tenderly inquired the lady, -laying her hand on the girl’s curly, dark hair. - -“It’s the parting with yeez a’, ma’am! And the thought what will I do at -all, at all, when ye lave this! Oh, sure it is a silfish wretch that I -am to be graiving for meself, instid of rejoicing with yeez!” wept the -girl, backsliding hopelessly into her dialect. - -“Judy, dear, do you think we would leave you behind? No, dear, not one -of us would think of such a cruel thing. We must take you with us, Judy, -my poor child!” - -“Oh, ma’am, sure and it’s a hivinly angel av goodness ye are and always -was, and meself always said it. And I’d go with you, willing, and glad, -and grateful, only there’s me poor Mike. If Mike should write to me, or -come to see me, what wud he do not to find me?” - -“My girl, we would leave word with the adjutant to forward any letters -that might come for you, and if your brother should appear in person, to -tell him where you were to be found. There! will that do? And remember -we are going to New York, and you will see Ran before he sails for -England. Come, now! will that do?” archly inquired the colonel’s wife. - -“Oh, yis, ma’am! Yis, sure!” exclaimed Judy, her eyes sparkling through -her tears. “And sure meself will be the thankful craychur!” - -“Creature, Judy.” - -“So it is! Creature, ma’am, thank you, and I will learn after a while.” - -Mrs. Moseley then left the sitting-room and went to the kitchen to give -directions to the soldier’s wife who filled the place of her cook. - -Judy laid aside her book and began to put the room in order for the -visitors. - -Punctually at about fifteen minutes before the dinner hour the colonel -came in with Capt. King, a fine, tall, stalwart-looking man with dark -complexion, black hair and mustache, and about thirty-five years of age. -He introduced the strangers to Mrs. Moseley, who received him cordially, -and to “Miss Man,” who only bowed. - -They were soon joined by the major, the adjutant and the surgeon, and -then all went in to dinner. Judy scarcely opened her lips in speech -during the meal, for fear of falling into her dialect. The impromptu -dinner party passed off very successfully, and the evening passed gayly. - -The next day being Tuesday, preparations for leaving the fort were -commenced by the colonel and his family. - -They fixed the ensuing Monday for their departure. - -Mrs. Moseley, in the midst of her packing, found time to write to her -friend, Augusta Walling, announcing their return to the East, and asking -her to find a large furnished house suitable to their large family and -moderate income, somewhere in an inexpensive suburb of New York, and to -have it ready for them to enter on their arrival, to save the cost of -going to a hotel with their numerous party. - -Every one was happy except Judy, who was grieving to go away without -having heard from her missing brother, even though she was going where -she would be sure to meet her betrothed. - -With distressful anxiety she watched for the one remaining mail that -would come in before they would leave the fort. - -Thursday, the next mail day, came and brought her letters from Ran, -telling her of the progress of his business and the passing of his time, -and that he had at length secured apartments in the same building with -his cousins, and had left his hotel to establish himself there until he -should sail for England. - -Judy was satisfied so far as her lover was concerned; but she was so -bitterly disappointed and distressed at not getting any news of her -brother by this last mail that she felt as if her last hope for him had -died out, almost as if she might mourn him as dead, and she went away to -her own tiny room to have her cry out by herself. - -Then she wrote a long letter addressed to her brother, in which she -explained to him the necessity of leaving the fort with the colonel’s -family, and begging him to write to her or come and see her. - -This she placed in the adjutant’s hands, begging him to give it to Mike -if he should come to the fort. - -By Friday night all the preparations for departure were completed. It -had been a heavy week’s work to get ready a family of fifteen for a -removal and a long journey, but the task was finished at last, and the -colonel said: - -“We may now take two Sabbaths’ rest, the Jewish and the Christian, -before setting out on our pilgrimage.” - -And that night the whole family went to bed tired enough to enjoy the -two days’ rest to come. - -The next day—Saturday—was a beautiful day, clear, and bright, and mild. -Fine fires were burning in all the fireplaces, but all the windows were -open. - -Mrs. Moseley was distributing to the few soldiers’ wives that were in -the camp many household articles that she would not want. Also she was -receiving informal visits from officers’ wives, who were sorry to have -her leave the fort. - -Judy, having nothing on earth to do, was walking up and down on the -piazza of the colonel’s quarters, thinking of her brother, Mike, and his -too probable fate. - -On this day, people were coming in and going out of the fort gates -continually; but Judy took no notice of them. - -Presently there came through the gates another troop—not a troop of -horse as on the preceding Monday, but a very small troop on foot, -consisting of some half a dozen of the most ragged, dirty, forlorn and -Heaven-forsaken looking tramps that Christian eyes ever beheld. - -Judy, pacing up and down the piazza, never saw them. She was muttering -to herself: - -“I know he is dead, but I shall never know how he died, or where he -died, or how much he might have suffered before he died. And this will -be a sorrow to me worse than death itself! A life-long sorrow that even -me darlint Ran can nivir comfort me for.” - -“Judy!” - -A familiar voice called in her ear, a hard hand clapped her on the -shoulder. - -She sprang as if she had been shot, gazed for an instant as if she had -gone mad, and then, with a great cry, flung herself in her brother’s -arms. - -Mike was worn out with his wearisome tramp, so he sat down on one of the -wooden benches, drew his sister on his knees, and held her to his bosom, -where she lay sobbing in a great paroxysm of emotion. - -Her cry had brought Mrs. Moseley and several other members of the family -to the door. They saw Mike sitting there with his sister’s face hidden -on his bosom. Mike lifted his old rag of a hat to the lady, who smiled -and returned into the house with all who had followed her to the door. -She would not disturb such a joyful meeting. She was as much delighted -as surprised that it had come so opportunely. - -It was some time before Judy was composed enough to speak. And even then -her first utterances were incoherent ejaculations of thankfulness, -delight and affection. At length she said, falling into her old dialect: - -“It’s an answer to prayer! It’s a blissing come down from the Mither av -Hivin. Oh, sure me harrt was breaking in me brest to lave this, an’ -yoursilf away, and me unbeknownst of whativir hed become av ye!” - -“Wheriver were ye going, Judy?” he asked. - -“Oh, sure ye didn’t know! How should ye?” she said. And then she told -him the situation, and inquired, in her turn, how it was that he came so -happily to see her, before her departure. - -“That Silver Moon Mine was jist the most misfortunate ventur’ as ivir -was made! Iviry one of the bhoys as went from Grizzly have come back, -hed to, ilse we wud ha’ perished in the snow there, this winter. What a -differint climit this is! Why, it’s almost like simmir here compared to -there. So we’s all going back to slow and sure old Grizzly. All, -lasteways, ixcipt Longman and Dandy, who are going back to the ould -counthry.” - -“Oh, Mike, are you going back to Grizzly?” - -“Yis, sure! Where ilse wud I go?” - -“Oh, Mike, don’t let us be parted! Go with me to New York! Ran is going -to England about the first of December; wouldn’t you like to see him -once more before he goes?” - -Mike hesitated, then he said slowly: - -“Sure, and I wud like to go with ye, Judy, and I wud like to see Ran, -but——” - -“Oh, don’t say but, Mike. Draw out the bit of money ye left in the -savings bank at ’Frisco, and come with us.” - -“Yis, but what the divil will I do before I get to ’Frisco without a -cint av money or a dacint suit av clothes?” - -“Oh—I’ll—I’ll—I’ll spake to the colonel’s leddy!” said Judy, springing -up impulsively and running into the house to lay the case before her -benefactress. - -Mrs. Moseley was all sympathy and kindness, and soon devised a plan by -which Mike should have an outfit and transportation to San Francisco, -where he might draw his savings from the bank, and repay all advances. - -That day and the next, through the kindness of the colonel and his -officers, the footsore, starved and wearied tramps were fed and rested -at the fort. - -On Monday the determined miners went on their way to Grizzly, well -provided with food and drink for their journey through the woods. - -At the same time a train of ambulances and army wagons, containing the -colonel and his numerous family, the discharged soldiers, with Longman, -Mike, Dandy and much goods, filed out of the fort gates and took the -road to St. Agnetta, where they were all to take the train to San -Francisco, en route for New York. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - A GLAD SURPRISE - - -“I have found them, ma’am! I have found them! And they are -charming—charming!” exclaimed Ran Hay with boyish exultation, bursting -into Mrs. Samuel Walling’s parlor with the freedom of an inmate on the -morning succeeding his meeting with Cleve and Palma Stuart. - -“Sit down, you excitable fellow, and tell me whom you have found. Is it -Sir John Franklin and his crew, or is it Mr. Livingstone?” inquired the -lady, rising and giving her hand to the visitor. - -“Neither, ma’am; though I would give my life to find either if it were -possible. But I have found my own dear cousins!” replied Ran, dropping -into a chair. - -“Your Uncle James Jordan’s children? Those whom you advertised for?” - -“His daughter, ma’am; his sole surviving child, Palma, and her husband, -Cleve Stuart, who is the only son and sole heir of the late John Stuart, -a rich planter of Mississippi. They are a charming young couple, only a -few months married.” - -“Cleve Stuart?” said Mrs. Walling, musing. - -“Yes, ma’am.” - -“Why, I know him! He used to be a devoted admirer of Lamia Leegh. We all -thought that it would certainly be a match. But I fancy she discarded -him in favor of the wealthier suitor, your treacherous traveling -companion, Gentleman Geff, the rival claimant of Haymore.” - -“If she did she made a miserable mistake. But I do not think she did. I -don’t believe she ever had the chance. I cannot fancy Stuart ever having -been enslaved by any woman before his lovely wife, to whom he is -perfectly devoted!” replied Ran. - -“Ah! well, I may have been mistaken. He was very much in society. So was -Miss Leegh. They were frequently together. But tell me how you found -them.” - -“Through that advertisement, of course.” - -“Oh, yes, I know. But how?” - -“Well, Stuart answered my advertisement by coming in person to my hotel; -finding me out, he left a note with his address, asking me to call -there. I got that note when I came in, and immediately started out to -see my cousins. I found them in an elegant little flat, their rooms -almost as charming as themselves. I spent the afternoon with them, dined -with them, went to the theater with them, supped with them, and only -left them in the ‘wee sma’ hours’ of the morning. And I could not sleep -for happiness in the thought of having found my kindred, and such -delightful kindred! Then as soon as possible this morning I came to tell -you the good news.” - -“I am very glad to hear it, Mr. Hay! I have lost sight of Mr. Stuart for -the last six months.” - -“That is just as long as they have been married. They were married on -the first of May last, and spent the whole season at some place up the -Hudson, and have only been in town for a few weeks. And I do not think -she knows a soul here!” said Ran with a pleading look in his soft, dark -eyes that said as plainly as words could have spoken: - -“Won’t you please to take the dear little one under your wing?” - -Mrs. Walling replied just as if he had spoken his plea. - -“Yes, certainly, I will call on Mrs. Stuart with great pleasure if you -will give me her address.” - -“When? Oh, when?” demanded Ran with more eagerness than politeness. And -then suddenly remembering himself he said: “Oh, I beg pardon.” - -“Why, any time—this week, to-morrow, to-day, if you like. Yes, to-day, -it will be just as convenient as any other day. Will you escort me, Mr. -Hay?” said the lady. - -“Oh, with the greatest pleasure and gratitude, ma’am. You are very -kind.” - -Mrs. Walling touched a bell, which brought a servant to the room. She -ordered her carriage to be brought to the door, and then turning to -young Hay, said: - -“If you will remain here until I put on my bonnet and wraps I will not -keep you long.” - -Ran rose and bowed, and Mrs. Walling left the room. - -Twenty minutes later Ran handed the lady into her carriage, entered -after her, and gave the order: - -“To the Alto Flats.” - -The truth is that Mrs. Samuel Walling was impelled by curiosity as well -as by neighborly kindness in thus promptly going to call on Mrs. Cleve -Stuart. - -A half hour’s drive brought them to the flats. - -Leaving Mrs. Walling in the carriage, but taking her card, he entered -the office of the house and gave it, with his own, to the janitor’s boy, -who took them upstairs. - -In five minutes the boy came down and reported that Mrs. Cleve Stuart -was at home, and would the gentleman and lady come up? - -Ran returned to the carriage, assisted Mrs. Walling to alight, and -conducted her into the house; they entered the elevator and were soon -“landed” at the door of the private hall leading into the Stuarts’ suite -of apartments. - -The boy opened the parlor door and they entered. - -Palma, neatly dressed in her well-worn, best suit of crimson cashmere, -with its narrow, white frills at throat and wrists, and her curly, black -hair lightly shading her forehead, arose from her chair and came forward -with shy grace to receive her visitors. - -“This is Mrs. Samuel Walling, dear Cousin Palma. She does me the honor -to be my good friend. Mrs. Walling, my cousin, Mrs. Cleve Stuart,” said -Ran, going through the introduction as well as he could. - -Palma put out her hand shyly, half in doubt whether she should do so or -not, and murmured: - -“I am very happy to see you, madam.” - -But Mrs. Walling took her hand with a frank and cordial smile and said: - -“I am delighted to know you! I should have recognized you without an -introduction, anywhere, from your likeness to your cousin here! Why, you -might be twins.” - -In a few minutes the three friends were seated and talking as freely as -if they had known each other all their lives. - -Evidently the two women were mutually pleased with each other. - -While they conversed Cleve Stuart came in from his daily, fruitless -quest after employment. - -He looked surprised and pleased to see Mrs. Walling with his wife, and -warmly shook hands with her, expressing his satisfaction at meeting her -again after so long an interval of time. - -“It was your own fault, Mr. Stuart. You should have sent an old friend -your wedding cards,” said the lady, laughing. - -“We had none, madam. My little girl was an invalid, and our wedding was -a very quiet one at Lull’s, where I had taken her for a change of air,” -replied Stuart. - -“I will not excuse you, sir. On your return to the city with your sweet, -young wife, you should have sent me your address, that I might have -called sooner. I hold that you have deprived me of some weeks’ enjoyment -I should otherwise have had in the acquaintance of Mrs. Cleve Stuart.” - -“Then I have no more to say, dear madam, but to throw myself upon your -mercy,” replied Stuart as he seated himself near the group. - -“Never mind, my dear,” said Mrs. Walling, turning to Palma, “we must -make up for lost time by becoming at once very intimate friends. Now, -will you come and take tea with me to-morrow at six o’clock? Not a -fashionable tea, dear child, at which hundreds of people sip Oolong or -Gunpowder out of dolls’ china cups, but a real unfashionable tea party -of ten or a dozen intimate friends, who assemble at ‘early -candle-light,’ and sit comfortably down to a long table—a custom of my -grandmother’s that I loved in my childhood, and brought with me from old -Maryland to this city, and indulge in whenever I can with some of my -friends. Will you come, you and Mr. Stuart, dear?” - -“With much pleasure, thank you, ma’am,” replied Palma, speaking for -both. - -“I want you to meet my friend, Mrs. Duncan, and one or two other good -people.” - -“Thank you very much, madam,” said Palma shyly. - -“She will be glad to make friends among your friends, Mrs. Walling, for -she is almost a stranger here,” added Stuart. - -“Very well, then, to-morrow afternoon, at six o’clock,” concluded the -lady, and she arose to take her leave. - -Ran shook hands with his cousins and escorted Mrs. Walling back to her -carriage, and would have bid her good-by at the door, but that the lady -said: - -“Come in here, Mr. Hay. I want to have more talk with you.” - -Ran obeyed. - -When they were seated and were well on their way along the avenue Mrs. -Walling said: - -“I have heard from our friends at the fort but once since your arrival, -Mr. Hay! The letter of introduction you brought is the last, except a -card, I have had from Mrs. Moseley, and never has so long an interval -passed without hearing from her.” - -“And you answered her last letter, dear madam?” - -“Of course I did, immediately, and have written one or two since. Have -you heard from them, Mr. Hay?” - -“Not for two weeks! And I should be very anxious if I did not know that -they must have written. The mails in that unsettled region are very -irregular, often delayed and sometimes lost. That condition of affairs -out there explains an apparent silence that might otherwise make me -seriously anxious. We shall get letters by and by, Mrs. Walling, for -every mail is not lost.” - -“Well, I hope they got my letters.” - -“They must have received every one, though we have got none,” replied -Ran. - -When the carriage drew up before the Walling house and Ran had helped -the lady to alight and escorted her to her own door, he would have taken -leave, but she insisted that he should enter with her and remain for -dinner. - -There he spent the evening, after dinner taking a hand in a rubber of -whist with Mrs. Walling and the two Messrs. Walling. - -That same night Mr. Samuel Walling left by the late train for Washington -to see the British minister. He expected to be back in three days. - -The next morning Mrs. Walling sent out her few invitations to intimate -friends for her entertainment. It was only under certain conditions that -the lady could indulge in the practical reminiscence of her childhood, -represented by this old-fashioned tea party, which, when it occurred, -always superseded the late dinner; and the first of these conditions was -the absence of her husband, who could never give up a dinner for a tea, -no matter how abundantly the table for the latter might be spread. - -Mr. Walling’s journey to Washington furnished her opportunity on this -occasion. So, early in the morning, she sent out about half a dozen -little cocked-hat notes of invitation to some of her old friends not -among the most fashionable of her acquaintances. And all who were -disengaged accepted at once. Among these was good little Mrs. Duncan, -and old Mrs. Murphy, and Miss Christiansen—all pleasant people. - -At six o’clock her guests began to arrive—only eight in number, -including the hostess. Six of these were ladies, the only gentlemen -present being Mr. Cleve Stuart, Mr. Randolph Hay and Mr. Roger Duncan. - -The elegant and luxurious “tea” was as abundant and varied as any dinner -need be, and much more dainty than any dinner can be. It was not a full -dress party, nor a ceremonious occasion; so both before and after tea -there was some card playing and much gossip. - -Mr. Stuart and Mr. Duncan, with Miss Christiansen and Mrs. Murphy, sat -down to a rubber of whist. Mrs. Walling, Mrs. Duncan, Mrs. Stuart and -Mr. Hay sat near each other in a group and gossiped with all their might -and main. - -Mrs. Duncan was the principal talker; and after telling many a spicy but -harmless bit of news, she took up the story of her protégée, Jennie -Montgomery, and soon interested all her hearers in it. The facts were -new to them all except to herself and Mrs. Murphy. - -“What puzzled me about the young thing was this: That while she had lost -every particle of respect and affection for her would-be murderer, she -persisted in shielding him from justice. Now, I can understand a woman -shielding a criminal whom she has loved, and still loves; but I cannot -understand her protecting an assassin who has aimed at her life, and -whom she fears and abhors!” - -Then Palma’s eyes began to sparkle. She had her little story to tell, -too. And she wanted to tell it. - -“Do you know,” she said, as soon as she could slip into the busy -conversation—“do you know that my husband was arrested by mistake for -Capt. Kightly Montgomery, and held for a murderous assault, until he -could prove his identity by competent witnesses?” - -The ladies, startled by this information, made little, low exclamations -of surprise. - -“Your husband was one of the witnesses, Mrs. Walling,” continued Palma, -pleased with herself that she could contribute some little item of -interest to the conversation. - -“Oh, yes! I think I remember hearing something about some one being -arrested by mistake, charged with something or other, and Mr. Walling -being called as a witness to prove the accused to be some other than the -man wanted; but, really, now, there are so many sensational items in the -daily papers that one shoves the other from the memory. So it was Mr. -Cleve Stuart, was it? Pleasant for him,” said Mrs. Walling. - -“And it was really your husband, Mrs. Stuart, who was taken to the -woman’s ward of the hospital to be identified by Jennie Montgomery! I -heard all about it at the time, but I had forgotten the name of the -gentleman who had been arrested by mistake,” said Mrs. Duncan, taking a -good look at Stuart, who was in a fine light for the view, seated at the -card table immediately under a chandelier. “And there certainly is a -very striking likeness between him and the miniature of the young -woman’s murderous husband,” she concluded. - -And then all the other ladies turned and gazed at Stuart, who was -blissfully unconscious of the severe scrutiny. - -“But though there is a striking likeness, there is also a very great -difference,” resumed Mrs. Duncan. “But you can see for yourselves. By -the merest chance I have that miniature in my pocket.” - -“Oh, do let us see it, dear Mrs. Duncan, do!” pleaded Palma, eager to -behold the likeness that had led to her husband’s false arrest. - -“Yes, my dear; but first let me tell you how I happen to have it in my -possession, and also to have it with me here. Mrs. Montgomery spent the -last ten days of her stay in the city in my house. The miniature which -had been found in her possession when the police searched her room, and -had been used in the vain effort to trace her assailant, was at length -restored to her. And to show how entirely she had ceased to care for the -man who tried to murder her, she actually forgot his picture, and left -it behind in her bureau drawer. I never chanced to find it until this -morning; and as I was coming out, I thought I would do it up and send it -out to her by mail. So I put it in a small box, directed and sealed it -and put it in my pocket with the intention of posting it, and -then—forgot all about it until now. Now you shall see it.” - -She drew a small pasteboard box from her pocket, broke the seals, opened -it and took out a small morocco case, which she also opened and handed -to Palma. - -“There is a slight resemblance. Only a very slight one. I do not see how -any one could mistake this sinister-looking face for a miniature of Mr. -Stuart. Now, do you, Mrs. Walling?” said Palma with an aggrieved air as -she passed the picture to her friend and hostess. - -“There is a very wonderful likeness to my eyes, my dear, in features, -hair, complexion and all—except expression.” - -“And expression is everything. I see scarcely any likeness myself,” -persisted Palma. - -“Will you allow me to look at it?” Ran inquired. - -Mrs. Walling placed it in his hand. - -“Now, do you see any likeness between that ill face and Cleve’s?” -inquired Palma, appealing to her cousin. - -“Not the least!” exclaimed Ran on the first cursory glance at the -miniature. Then holding it closer and gazing more attentively he -exclaimed suddenly: - -“Why, I know this fellow! It is Gentleman Geff, as he appeared when he -first came to Grizzly, before he shaved his mustache off and let his -beard grow! It’s Gentleman Geff!” - -“‘Gentleman Geff!’” echoed all the ladies, except Mrs. Walling, who took -the picture and gazed at it in silence for a moment, and then, returning -it, said: - -“Yes! I see now! So it is! Though the full beard made so great a -difference that even the likeness did not occur to me. Excuse me one -moment, friends. I will return directly.” And she hastily left the room. - -Ran could scarcely get over his astonishment at his discovery. Gentleman -Geff, the very fine dude who had seemed too dainty for any of the -rudenesses of life, yet who had treacherously shot him in the woods, -robbed him of his documents, and possessed himself of his estates, was -also the man who had attempted the murder of his own wife and -feloniously married another woman! - -“But who is Gentleman Geff?” inquired Palma, Mrs. Duncan and Miss -Christiansen, in a breath. - -“Please wait a little, ladies, until the return of Mrs. Walling. Perhaps -she will inform you, or allow me to tell you, who he is,” said Ran -respectfully, and even deprecatingly. - -Mrs. Walling returned with what might be called Mr. Walling’s -professional photograph album in her hand. - -She opened it at a certain page and pointed out a face and said: - -“Look at that and compare it with the miniature, and then tell me if the -two are not likenesses of the same person, notwithstanding the -difference made by the mustache on one face and the full beard on the -other.” - -She had handed the two pictures first to Palma, who gazed for a moment, -and then nodded assent, and passed them around to her companions. - -“But who is the man?” inquired Mrs. Duncan, while Palma and Miss -Christiansen seconded the question by their eager looks. - -“Friends, he was one of Messrs. Wallings’ clients, but is so no longer. -He has managed to deceive two astute lawyers, to impose upon society, to -get hold of a name and an estate that does not belong to him, and to -marry the most beautiful woman in the country and take her off to Europe -in triumph, while his own deserted wife and child, whom he believed he -had safely disposed of by murder, sailed with him in the same ship, -unsuspected by him, unsuspicious, also, it seems, of her faithless, -murderous husband’s presence there. He is an adventurer of many aliases, -a gambler, a forger, a swindler, a perjurer, a bigamist and an -assassin.” - -Mrs. Walling paused a moment to look upon her shocked audience, and then -continued: - -“That is the man. What his name is I cannot tell you. We knew him as Mr. -Randolph Hay, of Haymore. You have all heard of him under that name, and -the _éclat_ of the splendid festivities at the Vansitart mansion on the -occasion of his marriage with Miss Leegh has scarcely died away. Jennie -Montgomery knew him as Capt. Kightly Montgomery; my young friend, Mr. -Hay, knew him as Geoffrey Delamere, Esq.; and gamblers of Grizzly Gulch -as Gentleman Geff.” - -She paused again to mark the effect of her words. - -But no one spoke; the women were shocked into silence and pallor. At -length, however, Ran murmured: - -“This is too horrible!” - -“You know that the man whom society has been lionizing for the last six -months is a fraudulent claimant of the Haymore estate; you should also -know that this gentleman here, whom I introduced to you as simply Mr. -Hay, is really the true Randolph Hay, of Haymore, and a few weeks at -furthest will see him invested with his manor.” - -Mrs. Duncan and Miss Christiansen both turned to congratulate Ran, who -laughed and blushed like a girl at the honor due him. - -“Four by honors and six by tricks, and we have beat the rubber!” -exclaimed Mr. Roger Duncan, rising in triumph from the whist table and -breaking in upon the gravity of the circle collected around the fire. - -No one of that circle thought of speaking to the others of their -discovery through the miniature and photograph. - -And soon the company broke up. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - UNEXPECTED ARRIVALS - - -From this day forth the life of Cleve and Palma changed. They made -friends and went much into company through the introductions of Mrs. -Walling. They were young and innocently fond of gayety, and they were -led on by Ran, who was liberally supplied with money advanced by his -solicitors, and who, from being a daily visitor at their apartments, had -at last taken up his abode under the same roof for the sake of being -nearer to them until he should sail for England, accompanied by Mr. -William Walling. - -Unfortunately, neither Randolph Hay nor the Wallings suspected the -impoverished condition of their new friends, else they would not have -tempted or led the young pair into a way of life so much above their -means. - -As it was, their scanty little fund had to be drawn upon for such -additions to Palma’s toilet, and even to Cleve’s, in the way of nice -boots and fresh gloves, that seemed really indispensable to them when -they went out in the evening. Had Palma even suspected their own poverty -she would not have gone anywhere if it cost money to go there. But, -unsuspicious as she was, believing, as she did, that her husband was in -very easy circumstances, she went out a great deal; and Cleve, seeing -how much she enjoyed society, had not the heart to check her enjoyment -by telling her the truth. - -Only gloves and boots and car fare her pleasures cost them. She had two -dresses, the crimson cashmere, much worn, but carefully preserved, and -often cleaned and repaired for continual use by the careful hands of -Mrs. Pole. This was her dress for dinners and afternoon teas. Her white -India muslin—her confirmation robe, and afterward her wedding suit—was -now her only evening dress. Neither of these were at all stylish, but -they were neat and clean; and then her boots and gloves were perfectly -fitting, fresh and faultless. - -Every day Cleve went forth to seek employment, and every night returned -disappointed to find himself poorer by the day’s expenditures than he -had been the day before. - -Everything was going out and nothing coming in; and yet he shrank from -saying to Palma: - -“We cannot afford another pair of new gloves even, dear,” or to do -anything but smile in her face when she would only ask him to go with -her to a lunch party at Mrs. Duncan’s, or to a five-o’clock tea at Miss -Christiansen’s. - -If Ran had only known their straits as he bounded daily up and down the -stairs, too full of life and energy to avail himself of the elevator, -how gladly, how joyously, would he have poured into his cousin’s lap -wealth from his own abundant means, nor ever dreamed of offering offense -in proffering what he himself, in their reversed circumstances, would -have been frankly willing to receive from them. - -But he knew nothing, suspected nothing, of their poverty; and even if he -had known, and had offered to give assistance, Cleve Stuart, in his -spirit of pride or independence, would have refused it. - -Ran held firmly to his purpose of giving his cousin a fair share of -their grandfather’s estate, as soon as he himself should be put in -lawful possession, which was only a question of a few weeks’ time; but -he said nothing more about it to either Palma or Cleve. He thought they -understood his intentions, and believed in them, and that it would be in -bad taste to refer to them again. Besides, he did not suspect how dark -the future looked to one of them at least, and what a source of anxiety -it was. - -What the young pair really thought of their cousin’s offer to share, was -just this—that it had been made, not from a delicate sense of justice -that would stand the test of time and opportunity, but from a sudden -impulse of generosity that might yield to cool afterthought. Neither of -them placed much reliance on the offer, especially as they had -repudiated it at the time, and Ran had never renewed it. - -The day for young Hay’s departure for England was at length fixed. He -was to sail on the second of December. It had been first suggested that -Mr. Samuel Walling should attend him to England, and introduce him -personally to the London solicitors of the Hays of Haymore; but, as -usual, Mr. Will put in his plea of overwork, brain exhaustion, want of -change, and so on, and, as usual, his claim was allowed, and it was -decided that he should accompany the young heir. - -The aged priest, Father Pedro de Leon, having under oath testified to -the identity of Randolph Hay, had bidden an affectionate good-by to his -pupil and returned to his flock in San Francisco. - -It was remarkable that while Mr. Sam Walling, the head of the firm of -Walling & Walling, took all the heaviest responsibilities, did all the -hardest work, seldom left his desk during the office hours, and never -left the city except on business, Mr. Will, the junior partner, required -all the relaxation in frequent visits to Newport and Saratoga during the -summer months, and Washington and even Savannah during the winter -season. And now it seemed absolutely necessary that Mr. Will should have -a sea voyage to restore the shaken equilibrium of his overtasked mind -and body. - -“That’s just it!” Mrs. Walling said one day to Ran when speaking of the -trip to England. “Our firm, as a firm, is always full of work, yet -manages to have a good deal of play also; only Sam takes the work and -Will the play.” - -As the month of November drew to a close and the day of his departure -came near, Ran grew more and more uneasy. He had not heard a word from -Judy for more than three weeks, though in that time he had written so -many letters; nor had Mrs. Walling lately heard from Mrs. Moseley. - -Ran was not of a temperament to borrow trouble. Quite the contrary; he -always looked on the bright side. He was willing to make every allowance -for the well-known uncertainty of the mails in those unsettled regions -guarded by the frontier forts; but still it seemed strange and alarming -that for a month past no mail had come safely through contingent -dangers. - -His greatest anxiety now was that he should have to sail for Europe -without having heard from Judy. - -He confided his trouble to Cleve and Palma, with whom he now spent every -evening whenever they were at home. - -One evening, about a week before he was to sail, he was sitting with -Cleve and Palma in their tiny parlor. - -Cleve had been reading aloud, but laid down his book on the entrance of -Ran. Palma was knitting a woolen wristlet, the last of four pair that -she had been making for Cleve and Mrs. Pole, and she continued to knit -after greeting her cousin. - -Ran brought a chair to the little table at which the other two sat, -threw himself into it, sighed and said: - -“This is Saturday night, the twenty-fifth, and in one week from to-day, -on Saturday, the second of December, I must sail for England.” - -“Yes, Cousin Randolph, I know. And I am very sorry it should be -necessary that you should have to go—very. But you will soon return,” -sympathetically replied Palma. - -“It is about Judy,” frankly exclaimed Ran. “I have not had a letter from -her for nearly a month.” - -“But you yourself have told us of the uncertainty of the mails.” - -“Yes, and that might have been an explanation, and therefore a kind of -comfort, for failing to get a single letter in time. But when three or -four that I should have got have failed to come, it is strange and -alarming.” - -Neither Cleve nor Palma found anything to answer to this. They knew and -felt that it was both “strange and alarming.” - -“Let us hope that you will get a letter within a few days,” at length -ventured Stuart. - -“Why, you may get one even to-morrow,” hopefully exclaimed Palma. - -“Oh, yes! And I may have to sail for England in the most agonizing -anxiety as to Judy’s fate!” said Ran with a profound sigh. - -“But there is no reason for such an intense anxiety. She is in excellent -hands,” said Palma. - -“Oh! but when I came away there was a talk of the intended rising of the -Indians! Good Heaven! the fort may have been stormed and all hands -massacred for all I know!” exclaimed the youth, growing pallid at the -very thought. - -“Randolph!” cried Palma in horror. - -“Nothing of that sort could have happened without our having heard of it -before this. The authorities at Washington would have received the news, -and it would have been in all the papers. Some survivor would have -escaped to the nearest telegraph station and sent the message flying to -Washington,” said Cleve. - -“Oh, yes—certainly. But I never thought of that! It is a real relief to -me! I hope I may get a letter before I go! If I do not, and could have -my own way, I would sacrifice the passage and wait here until I could -hear from Judy. But Mr. Walling says it is absolutely necessary that I -should go no later certainly than the day set for sailing.” - -“But if a letter should come we will immediately send it after you,” -said Palma. - -“Thank you, cousin, dear; I know that you will do all that you can. -Well, I have learned one lesson from all this,” said Ran so solemnly -that both his companions looked up inquiringly, and Palma asked: - -“What is it, Cousin Randolph?” - -“It is this: If Heaven ever should bring my dear Judy and myself -together again I will never part with her—no, never while we both shall -live! Nothing shall ever part us again except the will of Heaven!” - -“But how about school and college that was to have prepared you both for -the sphere of life to which you are called?” Palma inquired with some -little amusement. - -“Oh, bother that! It was all the nonsense about ‘the sphere of life to -which we are called’ that parted Judy and me! And it shall never part us -again! We will go to school and college, but we need not part and live -in school and college. We will marry and go to housekeeping in some city -where there are educational advantages. I will attend the college -courses. Judy shall have teachers at home. And so we will live until we -are polished up bright enough to show ourselves to my grandfather’s -neighbors and tenants at Haymore. Then we will settle there for good, -and no one will ever know that the successors of Squire Hay were first -of all a pair of little ragamuffins and ignoramuses from a California -mining camp! Yes, that is what I will do, and no prudence, and no -policy, and no consideration for ‘that sphere of life to which we are -called,’ nor for anything else but Judy herself, shall influence me! -When we meet again we shall be married out of hand and nothing but death -shall part us! When we meet again! But when will that be? Ah, me!” -sighed poor Ran. - -There came a rap at the door, and the “boy” put in his head and said: - -“The lady and ge’men would come up, sir, which they said there wasn’t no -call to send up no card,” then withdrew his head and ran away. - -The three cousins looked up to see a tall, martial-looking man with a -gray mustache, and clothed in a military overcoat and fatigue cap, enter -the room with a slender, graceful girl, in a long gray cloth ulster and -a little gray plush hat, hanging on his arm. - -The three companions stared for a moment, and then Ran sprang up, -overturning his chair in his haste, and rushed toward them, exclaiming: - -“Col. Moseley! Judy! Oh, Judy!” - -And in another instant Judy was pressed to his heart. - -“Now, introduce us to your friends, Mr. Hay,” said the colonel, taking -off his cap and bowing to the lady and gentleman, who had risen to their -feet to receive the unknown and unexpected guests. - -“Oh, pardon me,” exclaimed Ran, raising Judy, drawing her arm through -his own and taking her up to his cousins. - -“Mr. and Mrs. Stuart, this is Miss Judith Man, my betrothed. Judy, -darling, these are my Cousin Palma and her husband,” he said. - -It was to be thought that the young girl would have made her quaint, -parish school courtesy; but she did not. She bowed, blushed and smiled -very prettily. Cleve Stuart shook hands with her and said that he was -very glad to see her. But Palma drew the girl to her bosom and kissed -her, with a few murmured words of welcome. - -Then Ran presented: - -“Col. Moseley, Mrs. Stuart, Mr. Stuart.” - -And all shook hands in the old-time, cordial manner. - -And when all were seated, Col. Moseley in Ran’s vacated chair at the -little table with Cleve and Palma, and Ran and Judy, side by side, on -the little sofa near them, there came the natural question from Stuart: - -“When did you reach New York, colonel?” - -“At noon to-day,” replied Moseley. - -“At noon to-day, and I see nothing of Judy until eight o’clock this -evening!” exclaimed Ran. - -“Patience, my dear fellow; I had to find you before I could bring her. I -arrived, with a large party, at noon, as I said; took them all to an -old-fashioned hotel downtown, where the prices are not quite ruinous; -left them all there, and went to hunt up you at your hotel, found that -you had left it, but could not find out where you had gone; went back to -own place and dined with my family; after dinner went out to hunt up the -Wallings, with the view of finding you, and also of finding the -furnished house I had commissioned Walling to engage for me; looked in -at the office first, but found no one there but the janitor cleaning up; -office hours were over; Mr. Samuel Walling gone home to his dinner; got -his address; went to the house; found Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Walling, who -were as much amazed at seeing me as if I had been a ghost risen from the -dead. In fact, they had not got my letter of advice, and, consequently, -had not engaged any furnished house for my tribe. However, they insisted -on making it all right for us. They told me where to find you, Hay; and -then when I said I must go back to the hotel to pick up Judy, Mrs. -Walling insisted on going with me to see her old schoolmate and dear -friend, and she went with me. Well, in brief, when she met my wife, -nothing would do but she must take her and all the girls home to her own -house to stay until we can find a home for ourselves. I and the boys -remain at the hotel. Judy is to join Mrs. Moseley and the girls at the -Wallings’.” - -“Indeed, then, Judy is to do nothing of the sort. Judy is to stay here -with me. I am her natural protector under the circumstances,” said -little Palma, drawing herself up with an assumption of matronly dignity -that was very amusing to the colonel. - -“Very well, my dear lady. It shall be as you please, or as Miss Judith -pleases; only, I do not know how I shall face Mesdames Walling and -Moseley without taking her to them.” - -“I will write a note and relieve you of responsibility in the matter,” -exclaimed Palma, rising and going toward a little writing-desk. - -“But you have not consulted Miss Judith,” said the colonel. - -“Oh, I know she will stay with us,” exclaimed Palma, going toward the -girl and putting her arms around her neck and murmuring: - -“You will stay with us, will you not, dear Judy? I may call you Judy, -may I not? I have known you as Judy, and loved you as Judy, before I -ever saw you. Shall I call you Judy?” - -“Sure and ye may, ma’am!” exclaimed the girl with cordial impetuosity; -but then, catching herself up suddenly, she blushed and added softly: -“If you please, ma’am, I should like you to call me so.” - -Palma smiled, kissed her forehead, and then went to her tiny desk and -wrote the note to Mrs. Moseley. - -The colonel had but little time to stay, and soon arose to say -good-night. - -“By the way,” he said, “I had almost forgotten. I am the bearer of an -invitation for you all to come and dine with us at Mrs. Walling’s -to-morrow, at seven.” - -Palma looked at her husband, understood his eyes, and answered for both: - -“Love to Mrs. Walling, and we will go with much pleasure.” - -Col. Moseley shook hands all around, like the plain, old-fashioned -soldier that he was, and then went away. - -There remained Ran and Judy, sitting on the sofa, and Cleve and Palma at -the table. - -The lovers were comparing notes, giving in their experience of the time -while they were separated, speaking in subdued tones that presently sank -so low as to be quite inaudible to any other ears than their own; so it -might be surmised that Ran was imparting to Judy his new scheme of life -for the future. - -The married pair at the table with the truest politeness ignored the -presence of the just reunited lovers, and took up their occupations that -had been interrupted by the visitors. Cleve opened his book and resumed -his reading, but now in a lower tone, quite audible to Palma, but not -disturbing to Ran or Judy. He was reading Marmion, the scene of the -meeting between the pilgrim and the abbess on the balcony. But Palma, -knitting mechanically, could not listen. She was seized with a terrible -anxiety that filled her mind and crowded out everything else. She had, -from the impulse of a warm heart, invited Judy to stay, and Judy was -staying. - -But where on the face of the earth was she to put Judy? They had in -their doll’s house of a flat but four tiny rooms—parlor, kitchen and two -bedrooms. What was to be done? How could she listen to the story the -abbess was telling the pilgrim, and the minutes passing so rapidly, and -bedtime coming on, and no bed to put her invited guest in? And there was -Cleve utterly unconscious of her dilemma, although he knew as well as -she did the extent—or rather limits—of their accommodation. - -Cleve finished the canto and closed the book in complacent ignorance -that Palma had not heard a word of it. - -The clock on the mantel struck eleven. It was a cheap clock and it -struck loudly. - -Ran arose to bid good-night. - -“I really ought to beg your pardon for keeping you up. But you will -excuse me for this once,” he said. - -“Why, certainly! Certainly! Don’t go yet. We shall not retire for hours. -Oh, pray! pray! don’t go yet!” pleaded Palma with her curly hair fairly -stiffening itself on end; for, when Ran had left, what, in the name of -Heaven, was she to do with Judy? Take the girl in with herself and -Cleve? Or lay her over Mrs. Pole on that narrow slab of a cot that could -not hold two side by side? - -Palma had got into a terrible dilemma which she feared, by the creepy -coldness of her scalp, was going to turn her hair white! - -She would have been very much relieved if—after the old-fashioned New -England style—the betrothed lovers should sit up all night. - -“Oh, do, do, do stay longer!” she still pleaded, looking beseechingly at -Ran. - -But Ran was looking at his sweetheart, and replied gravely: - -“You are very kind! Too kind! And I thank you so much! But, even for -Judy’s sake, I ought to go. She is very tired from her long journey. -Good-night.” - -And he turned to go, Judy following him to the door of the parlor, -where, of course, they lingered over their adieus. - -Then Stuart got a chance to speak apart with Palma. He looked into her -dismayed face and broke into a little, low laugh. - -“Oh! what in the name of goodness shall I do?” she exclaimed, clasping -her hands and gazing appealingly up into his face. - -Then he pitied her evident distress and answered: - -“Why, dear, you will have to share your own bed with Miss Judy and give -me a rug on the sofa.” - -Her face brightened. - -“Oh, Cleve!” she exclaimed, “you are an angel of light in a cutaway -coat! You have saved my life—or reason!” - -Then suddenly growing grave she added: - -“But the little sofa is so short, and you are so long!” - -“Now don’t look so distressed, dear. The inconvenience is nothing at -all. And it is only for one night. To-morrow I will see the janitor and -try to get a room for our little friend contiguous to our own, so that -she may remain with us.” - -Stuart spoke of incurring this additional expense with apparent -cheerfulness, although his small funds were nearly exhausted, and his -efforts to procure employment were quite fruitless. - -But he said no more then, for Ran, who had lingered at the door over his -last words with Judy, now kissed her good-night and went away, and the -girl rejoined her friends in the little parlor. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - PALMA’S NEW FRIEND - - -“I will leave you for half an hour to make your arrangements,” said -Stuart to his wife; and he left the room and went downstairs and out -upon the sidewalk to take the air. - -Judy had thrown herself into an easy-chair and stretched out her feet to -the bright little fire. - -Palma pushed the small sofa back against the wall, and then went into -the bedroom, from which she brought a cushion and a rug. When she had -arranged the sofa into a couch she turned and looked at her guest. - -Judy was nodding. - -Palma went and laid her hand on the sleeper’s shoulder and gently -aroused her, saying: - -“Whenever you wish to retire, dear, your room is ready.” - -“Oh! sure, I thank ye, ma’am. Any time as shutes yourself will shute -me,” replied Judy with a wide gape, waking up. - -“Come, then,” said Palma, and she led the sleepy and half-bewildered -girl into the pretty little bedchamber, where she had laid out a dainty -night dress for her guest. Judy waked up fully in the process of -disrobing, and then her hostess said: - -“To-morrow you shall have a better accommodation, but to-night you will -share my room. I hope you won’t mind it.” - -“Och, no, ma’am. Sure and haven’t I been used to pigging in itself?” -began Judy brightly, but she suddenly checked herself and amended her -phraseology—“I mean, ma’am, I have been accustomed to close quarters in -the mining camp, and this is a palace compared to any place I have ever -seen before.” - -“It is a pretty little doll’s house as one could wish, for dolls,” -replied Palma with a laugh. “Not quite spacious enough, however, for one -who loves space.” - -“Which side am I to sleep on, ma’am?” inquired the girl when she was -ready for bed. - -“Any side you wish, dear. But, Judy, please don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ If -you do I shall be obliged to call you ‘miss,’ and I should not like -that, and I do not think you would like it, either.” - -“Fegs and I wouldn’t! Oh! that is to say, no, ma’am, I should not. I -should feel it to be cold and unkind of you.” - -“Very well, then, Judy dear, do as you would be done by.” - -“I will, ma’am,” said the girl, getting into bed and lying down on the -side next to the wall and squeezing herself against it to take up as -little room as possible, “and indeed, ma’am, since it displeases you, I -will try to remember—never—to call—you ma’am—again.” - -The last word was scarcely audible, for as soon as Judy’s head dropped -on the pillow her eyes closed and she fell fast asleep. - -Palma returned to the parlor, drew the easy-chair to the fire, and -seated herself to wait for Stuart. - -He came in at length and dropped himself into the larger easy-chair by -Palma’s side. - -“Judy is fast asleep. She dropped asleep first in this chair here, and -afterward, when I got her to bed, she fell asleep as soon as her head -touched the pillow,” Palma told him with a smile. - -“And you?” inquired Stuart. - -“Oh! I am not at all sleepy. I feel too much elated by the arrival of -all these people. I wonder what Mrs. Pole will think when she finds out -that we have a visitor staying with us?” - -“Doesn’t she know, Palma?” - -“Why, no, Cleve. She went to bed before the colonel left us, and how -could she know that the girl remained behind? And I wonder what she will -say?” - -“Well, Palma, I think she will disapprove.” - -“But you don’t, Cleve?” - -“Not at all, dear. I am glad you took the girl in. We will find a room -for her to-morrow.” - -The clock struck twelve, yet still the young couple sat talking to each -other like a pair of lovers loath to say good-night, as any young -“courting couple” could possibly be; for, in fact, they were now -sweethearts. Palma, we know, had always loved Cleve; but only since -their marriage had Cleve been growing every day more in love with his -wife. So they sat and talked, or sat in silence over the fire, until the -clock struck two. - -“Now, my dear, you must really go to bed, even if you are not sleepy,” -said Stuart, rising and standing up, as much as to say, “Here I shall -stand until you go.” - -“You turn me out, then?” - -“Yes, I turn you out!” - -Palma stood on tiptoes to kiss him good-night. He lifted her in his arms -and kissed her again and again, and then set her down, and she vanished -through the damask portières into the little bedroom. - -Stuart threw off his coat and lay down on the sofa. It was a short sofa -with a low back and two arms. Cleve’s head lay upon one arm and his legs -dangled over the other. The discomfort of the position would have kept -him from sleep even if the apartment had been quiet, which it was not. - -Palma’s entrance had waked Judy. The girl had had three hours’ sound -sleep and had waked up refreshed in mind and body, delighted to find -herself in such a rare, beautiful little room and with such a lovely -companion. She felt no inclination to sleep more just then—but to talk. - -A kindly yet indiscreet question from Palma set her tongue going, and -she talked on and never stopped until she had told her whole story. - -As there was nothing but the red damask portières that separated the -little chamber from the little parlor, Stuart heard the whole of that -story; he could not help hearing it. Once or twice he hemmed to let the -narrator know that he was awake and listening; but that made no -difference to Judy. She had no secrets. “All the birds of the air” were -welcome to hear her history. It was near daylight when at length she had -talked herself to sleep. As for Palma, she had dozed through the -narrative, though Judy had not suspected it. - -With the first glinting of the rising sun’s rays through the slats of -the parlor blinds, Stuart gladly arose from his uncomfortable couch and -went into the little bathroom to make his morning toilet. - -When he had finished it, in returning to the parlor he passed by the -open door and saw that Mrs. Pole had risen, tidied up her kitchen and -got breakfast well under way. He stepped in to tell her about their -guest and send her into the parlor to set the room to rights. Then he -went downstairs to take the air on the sidewalk. - -Mrs. Pole passed into the parlor to hoist the window, replenish the -fire, and restore the place to order before setting the breakfast table. - -Her movements awoke the two sleepers in the next room. - -They arose laughing and talking, dressed themselves quickly and came out -into the parlor. - -Mrs. Pole turned from the window she was just closing to look at the -stranger. - -Palma laughingly introduced the two. - -“This is our friend, Miss Judith Man, Poley. And, Judy, darling, this is -our dear Mrs. Pole, who is like a second mother to me.” - -The elder woman wiped her clean hands on her clean apron, and then gave -the stranger a close clasp and a warm welcome. - -“Now, Poley, dear, you can go and look after the breakfast, and we will -set the table. Miss Judith is quite at home with us, and knows as much -about housekeeping as we do,” said Palma brightly. - -Mrs. Pole made no objection, but left the room. - -Then Palma—and Judy following her example—began to take the books off -the center table and pile them in a corner. Then they folded the table -cover and laid it upon them. - -Palma went to the prettiest little doll’s corner cupboard that ever was -seen, opened a drawer in the lower part of it, and took out a white -damask cloth which she spread upon the table. - -Then she handed out the china, piece by piece, which Judy took and -arranged on the cloth. - -“You see, dear, what a little casket we live in,” said Palma when the -table was ready and the cupboard closed. - -“Sure, darlint, ye are a precious jewel yerself, and where would ye be -stored but in a casket itself?” demanded Judy. - -Presently Stuart came up from below and greeted the two young women -cordially. - -Mrs. Pole brought in the breakfast and they sat down to the table. - -They were scarcely seated when Ran entered, shook hands all around, and -took the fourth place at the table, which had been prepared for him. - -The conversation grew lively. - -“When shall we see Mike?” inquired Ran at length. - -“Oh! to-day, I hope,” replied Judy. - -“Does he know where to find us?” - -“He didn’t yesterday! No more did we! And he wint with his -friends—friends to a chape—cheap boarding-house before the colonel found -you out. But sure he will know where we are by this time! The colonel -will have told him.” - -While they were yet speaking in walked the colonel with Mike. - -All the company arose from the table to receive them. - -Ran and Mike closed hands cordially at once, while the colonel was -shaking hands with Stuart, Palma, and Judy. - -Then Ran introduced Mike to his cousins, who received him heartily. - -“And, now, won’t you both sit down and take some breakfast with us?” -inquired Stuart and Palma in a breath. - -“Oh, thank you! I just got up from my breakfast to bring Man here,” said -the colonel. - -“And meself finished before I wint to his honor,” said Mike. - -“But do not let us disturb you. Pray, go on with your own breakfast,” -said Col. Moseley. - -“Oh, we have done!” replied Stuart, while Palma rang the bell for Mrs. -Pole to come and take away the service. - -A few minutes later they were all seated in the little parlor, which the -company of six nearly filled. - -“And how is the misthress this morning, sir?” inquired Judy of the -colonel. - -“Oh! she has quite recovered from her fatigue and has gone house-hunting -with Mrs. Walling.” - -“And the childher?” - -“Ah! well and delighted with the great city,” replied Col. Moseley; and -as Judy asked no more questions he turned to Ran and said: - -“I find that you have had very little difficulty in prevailing on the -Messrs. Walling to recognize your rights, Hay!” - -“None whatever, sir; thanks to your strong letter!” replied Ran. - -“Thanks to your strong proofs, rather. Who could withstand such -overwhelming evidence? But, Hay, in none of your letters did you tell us -who the rival claimant was, although I asked you to do so.” - -“I never got your letter containing such a request, sir, or I should -have complied with it. The reason why I never volunteered the -information was because the subject was a painful one. And, by the way, -has not Mr. or Mrs. Walling told you who that impostor was?” - -“No. I have not had five minutes’ private conversation with them yet. -Mrs. Walling may have told my wife by this time.” - -“Well, colonel, the claimant was, not my Uncle James’ son, as I -suspected, but a fraudulent adventurer whom we have known as Gentleman -Geff.” - -“Gentleman Geff! Why, I thought he had been quite killed by the same -parties that half killed you, and that his bones were buried in the old -fort cemetery!” - -“So did I. So did we all. But we were mistaken. The body buried in the -cemetery for Gentleman Geff’s was not his, but that of some poor victim -of border ruffianism, whose identification we shall, perhaps, never -discover, and Gentleman Geff is alive and flourishing in stolen plumes -on the continent of Europe.” - -“Tell me all about it!” exclaimed the colonel. - -And Ran went over the story of Gentleman Geff’s crimes, already so well -known to our readers. - -Col. Moseley listened with grave interest; Mike with open-mouthed -wonder, Judy in stupefaction. - -“I do not know why one should ever be surprised at anything that -happens,” mused the colonel. - -“Bedad, meself is only shurprised that I nivir had the sinse to shuspect -it,” remarked Mike. - -“And he that particular about his clane linen! Sure, I nivir less would -have belaived it av sich a jintleman!” sighed Judy. - -“Where is the scoundrel now?” inquired the colonel. - -“Somewhere in Europe on his bridal tour,” replied Ran. - -“On his bridal tour?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Ran. - -And then he told the story of Gentleman Geff’s felonious marriage. - -“A fine account he will have to settle!” exclaimed the colonel. “Two -assaults, with intent to kill, one bigamy, divers forgeries and -perjuries, to say nothing of the fraudulent claim of a name and estate -to which he has no right.” - -“I shall not take a single step toward prosecuting him,” said Ran. - -“Ah! you won’t! By the way, do you really sail on Saturday?” - -“Yes, colonel, really. And, moreover, I mean to take Judy with me. Yes, -indeed, sir. She is more than wealth, and rank, and culture, and every -other worldly good. Sooner than part again, with half a sphere between -us, we will get married first and go to school afterward,” said Ran, -taking Judy’s hand within his own and keeping a close hold of it. - -“Whe-ew! And what does Miss Judy say to that?” inquired the colonel. - -“Sure, thin, sir,” began Judy—but her face flamed and she mended her -speech—“indeed, sir, I have consented to do as Ran wishes. Why should I -not? Absence has tried us. He has graived—suffered, that is. And as for -myself, sir, there was many a time when I could have started to walk -clear across the continent to go to him just as I walked through the -wilderness to find him when he was wounded, only it would not have -been—been—right, I suppose.” - -“And so you mean really to marry this young fellow and go to Europe with -him?” - -“Yis—yes, if you please, sir.” - -“But you said out there at the fort that you would not do it -until—something or other, I have forgotten what.” - -“Until he had seen something of the world, sir, to be sure of his own -mind—that is what I mint—meant. And now it is not as if Ran and myself -had only met lately at a party and took a sudden fancy to each other. We -have known each other for years.” - -“And, sir,” said Ran, “you must not think that we have given up the plan -of education; for we have not. I have talked it over with my Cousin -Cleve here, and settled upon a plan, to which Judy has agreed. We will -marry, as I said, before we sail for England. After we have visited -Haymore we will go to London, as being the place of places where we can -live in the strictest retirement, unknown and untroubled, until -education shall have fitted us to mingle with society. After which we -will go and settle at Haymore. This is the best plan I can think of to -keep us united. And I will not entertain any plan that is to part this -dear, true girl from me, even for a season.” - -“Bravo, my boy! Even if I had a right to set up any opposition to your -wishes, I should not do it. And what is to be done with Mike?” - -“Mike is my brother,” replied Ran. “He shall share with me in any way he -likes. He shall go to England and live with us if he likes. Or stay -here, and enter into any business that he may choose and be fit for.” - -Col. Moseley looked at Ran, and thought him the most unselfish, the most -unworldly individual he had ever seen in all the days of his life. - -And so Ran was. - -The colonel soon took leave, expressing his pleasure in the prospect of -meeting his friends at Mr. Samuel Walling’s that evening. - -“And now, young man, that I have shown you the way to your sister’s -abiding-place, you will not need my guidance any longer. Good-day to -you,” he said to Mike as he left the room. - -“Good-day, and many thanks for your shivility, sir,” returned Mike. - -It occurred to Ran then that perhaps Mike, in the simplicity of his -heart, was staying longer than was convenient in the narrow quarters of -his cousins; so very soon he asked him: - -“Where are Longman and old Dandy staying? I should like to see them.” - -“Oh, they are at Markiss’, away down on Water Street. They’d be proud to -see you, Ran. Come with me, and I will take ye straight to them.” - -This was exactly what Ran wished. He arose and bade the two young women -good-morning, and left the house with his friend. - -Palma and Judy began to think of making preparations for the family -dinner party at Mrs. Walling’s. - -Palma took out her crimson cashmere dress and gave it to Mrs. Pole to be -brushed and shaken, sponged and pressed, and looked over her small stock -of lace and gloves. - -Judy looked down on her own brown traveling dress and said ruefully: - -“This will never do to wear this evening. I have got a pretty dark blue -French merino; but it is in my trunk at the hotel, and sure it might as -well be in Aigypt—Egypt, that is.” - -“Col. Moseley will be sure to send the trunk to you,” suggested Palma. -And even while she spoke a noise was heard outside and a knock came to -the door, and the janitor entered the parlor, followed by a porter with -the girl’s trunk on his shoulders. When he put it down on the floor -Stuart paid and discharged him, and shortly after left the house on his -daily hopeless search for employment. - -That evening Stuart, Palma, Hay, Judith, Col. and Mrs. Moseley, Mr. -James and Miss Betty Moseley met at dinner at Mr. Samuel Walling’s. A -happier party never gathered around a table. - -After dinner the ladies withdrew to the drawing-room, leaving the -gentlemen to their wine. - -In the drawing-room Mrs. Moseley introduced the subject of Ran and -Judy’s proposed marriage. She said to Judy: - -“My dear, we are all friends here—intimate friends, indeed—so it is -quite proper that I should speak plainly. My young favorite, Mr. Hay, -has taken counsel with me concerning his wish to marry you and take you -to Europe with him. Am I right in supposing that this is your wish -also?” - -“Yis—yes, madam,” replied Judy, modestly lowering her eyes. - -“Then, dear, are you willing that Mrs. Stuart and myself should make all -the arrangements for you?” - -“I should be very grateful to you, madam.” - -“Look here! I am not going to be left out in the cold!” exclaimed -Augusta Walling, laughing and joining the circle. - -“Of course you are not! How should you be, when we are hoping that the -wedding breakfast will be served right here in your house on Saturday -morning next?” said Mrs. Moseley, well knowing that she might take a -much greater liberty than that with her old schoolmate. - -“That will be perfectly delightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling. “I adore a -wedding breakfast at home, and never expected to enjoy one until my own -daughter, now at Vassar, grows up and gets married. Miss Judith, shall -this be so? Will you place yourself in my hands?” - -“Sure and”—brightly exclaimed Judy, and then she stopped suddenly, -blushed and amended her speech—“I should be glad and grateful, ma’am,” -she answered. - -Then Mrs. Walling turned to Palma, saying: - -“And you will give me back your guest in time? You are rather too young -a matron to chaperon a bride-elect,” she added with a smile. - -“As you and my cousins please, dear Mrs. Walling. I should myself be -very happy to serve them, but I will not stand in the way of another who -can do so much better,” replied Palma. - -“That’s a dear, unselfish angel!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling. And then the -four women formed themselves into a committee of ways and means, and -discussed wedding breakfasts, trousseaus and so forth, treating Judy -with as much freedom, tenderness and liberality as if she had been their -own child, until the gentlemen came in and the subject was dropped. - -The evening passed so pleasantly that it was late when the party broke -up. - -Stuart, Palma, Ran and Judy returned to their flat. - -Stuart had not been able to find a room for Judy. All the rooms were in -suites. One more night he had to sleep as well as he could on the short -sofa, while Judy shared Palma’s bed. - -But the next day, toward the afternoon, Mrs. Walling came for Judy, to -take her to the Walling home to make preparations for her marriage on -Saturday. - -“The Moseleys,” she said, “have secured a fine old manor house at Fort -Washington, about fifteen minutes by rail from New York. It is -completely furnished and in perfect readiness for occupation. The family -are in Europe, and the house has been left in the care of an agent, who -has just kept it in perfect order. They leave us to-night; so you see we -have room for a score of young girls, if we could find them.” - -Palma made no objection to the departure of Judy, but kissed her an -affectionate good-by; and Mrs. Walling took the girl and the girl’s -little trunk away with her in the luxurious family carriage. - -And Ran forsook the Stuarts and spent that evening with the Wallings, -returning quite late to his suite of rooms on their flat. But, under the -circumstances, his cousins forgave him. - - - - - CHAPTER X - A WEDDING AND OTHER INCIDENTS - - -Stuart and Palma were both very glad and very grateful that Mrs. Walling -had undertaken all the responsibilities of their cousin’s wedding. They -knew that her means were ample, and that Walling & Walling were -advancing, and would continue to advance, any sum that Randolph or -Judith might require for their personal preparations. They knew also -that Mrs. Walling was sincerely delighted with the idea of the wedding -celebration at her own house; whereas, had it been settled to come off -at the Stuarts’ apartments, Stuart, from impecuniosity, and Palma, from -inexperience, would have been very much embarrassed. - -Mrs. Walling was in her element selecting a proper trousseau and outfit -for Judy. - -She came in her carriage every morning to take Palma out shopping with -her and Judy. Mrs. Moseley could not accompany the party; not because -she was a little way out of town, for the cars ran all the time and -would have brought her in in fifteen minutes, but because she was “up to -her eyes in business” settling her large family in their new home. - -So Mrs. Walling, Palma, and Judy went out together every day, until all -the shopping was completed. - -Judy’s outfit was a very complete but not a very costly one. - -“You know, dear,” Mrs. Walling explained to Palma, “that our little -friend is not going at all into society for two or three years to come. -The young pair will live very quietly somewhere, to advance their -education, before they show themselves to their neighbors at Haymore; -and so she will really need little more than a schoolgirl’s ‘kist.’ Her -wedding dress, of course, must be a pretty one, and her traveling dress -must be very nice, but the others plain and simple and inexpensive.” - -Palma agreed to the prudence of all this. And Judy said never a word. -She left her affairs entirely in the hands of her two friends. - -While the lady shopped for Judy she shopped for herself as well. But, -after a day or two, she could not but notice that Palma bought nothing; -that she let all the tempting goods, so pretty and so cheap, pass under -her admiring eyes unpurchased. - -“What is the matter with the young one?” inquired Augusta of herself. -“Doesn’t she care for dress at all?” Then she remembered that she had -never seen Mrs. Stuart in but two dresses, and very inexpensive ones at -that, namely, an India muslin, sometimes, in her evenings at home, and a -fine crimson cashmere for visiting. And then it occurred to Augusta -Walling that the Stuarts might be in straitened circumstances; and her -heart was touched with sympathy for the beautiful young woman who saw so -many attractive articles of adornment pass under her eyes or be bought -by others without being able to buy one of them. And she wondered how -she might make Palma a pretty present without giving offense. - -“I hate the rôle of a pretended benefactress. I should shrink from such -an imputation. Lovely little creature! how elegant she would look in a -ruby velvet, with duchess lace! And she shall have it! Yes, that she -shall! And I will take the risk of being snubbed and stood in a corner -for my impertinence.” - -The outcome of the lady’s resolution was this: After she had set down -Palma at the Stuarts’ apartments, and taken Judy home to the Walling -house, she set out on a second shopping expedition. - -The same night, while Stuart was taking his usual walk up and down the -pavement before the house, and Palma sat in her little room stitching -fresh edges on frayed collars and cuffs, one of Lovelace & Silkman’s -young ladies arrived at the apartment home, followed by a boy with a -large bandbox, and asked for Mrs. Cleve Stuart. She was brought up in -the elevator and ushered into the presence of Palma, who arose to -receive the unexpected visitor, staring a little. The stranger merely -nodded to the lady, then, without any preface, she took the bandbox from -the boy, set it on a chair, untied, unwrapped and opened it, and took -from it a glorious suit of dark, bright blue damassé velvet, trimmed -with satin, and spread it over a chair, saying: - -“If it is convenient, I would like to have you try it on now, ma’am, so -that I may make any alterations that may be necessary before I leave.” - -“But I——” began the wondering Palma, when she was suddenly interrupted -by the dressmaker exclaiming: - -“Oh! I beg your pardon! I forgot!” And she handed a note addressed to -Mrs. Cleve Stuart. - -Palma took it in perplexity, opened it, and read: - - - “Beauty to the beautiful! To Palma Stuart, with the true love of - Augusta Walling.” - - -Palma was touched, melted, delighted all at once. She had never had, nor -ever expected to have, so superb a dress. She was but a child in some -things. She could not speak for surprise, gratitude and embarrassment. - -But the matter-of-fact young woman from the suit department of Lovelace -& Silkman’s went on to say: - -“We were very sorry that we had not a ruby velvet made up, but the lady -who gave us your order said that there would be no time to make up one, -and she selected this; and I really think, madam, that this shade of -mazarine blue will be quite as becoming to your brunette style as garnet -or ruby.” - -“It is beautiful! It could not be more beautiful!” exclaimed Palma. - -“Will you try it on now?” - -Palma arose and the dressmaker helped to relieve her of her cashmere -dress and induct her into the velvet. - -But slight alteration was necessary—the front breadth shortened, the -sleeves shortened, the side seams of the waist taken in—that was all. - -The young dressmaker laid off her hat and her wraps, and took from her -little hand-bag needle, sewing silk, scissors and thimble, and sat down -to work. - -Then Palma, having nothing else to occupy herself with while the -dressmaker sat there, began idly to rummage among the silver tissue -paper in the bottom of the big bandbox, and there she found another -box—a smaller one—which she took out to examine. It had her name on it. -She opened the box and found a fichu and pocket handkerchief of duchess -lace, a pair of the finest white kid gloves, a lovely fan, and a little -turban of velvet and satin to match her dress. - -The dressmaker soon finished her task, folded the dress, returned it to -the box, and took her leave. - -Then Palma started up, like the delighted child that she was, opened the -box again, took out the elegant dress, spread it all over the sofa to -display its beauties to the best advantage, and called in Mrs. Pole to -admire it; and when that good woman had risen to as much enthusiasm as -she was capable of—for a suit—and returned to her own dominions, Palma -still left it there, that Stuart might be regaled with the vision when -he should come in. - -When Cleve did come in and was shown the present and the note that came -with it he looked rather grave; he did not like presents, would much -rather that his pretty little wife had continued to wear her shabby red -cashmere, rather than be indebted to any one for a sapphire velvet; but -it was too late to prevent her acceptance of it now, so he quickly -cleared his brow and admired the dress to her heart’s content. - -On that same evening Ran was, as usual, spending the hour with Mrs. -Walling and Judy. There was no other company. Ran had a secret source of -distress, and it was this—his humble, faithful friends down at Markiss’ -Hotel, in the lower part of the city. They certainly did not belong to -the Walling “set.” Conventionally, they were a long, long way below that -set; yet Ran wanted them to be present both at his wedding and at the -wedding breakfast, and that wedding was to be celebrated at one of the -most “fashionable” churches in the city; and that wedding breakfast was -to be given at Mrs. Walling’s. How could Ran ask that very fine lady to -invite his humble friends? And, on the other hand, how could he slight -those faithful friends? Mike, his brother-in-law expectant, must come, -of course; that was to be taken for granted, and then Longman, who had -rescued him on the night when he was shot, and who had actually saved -his life—Longman ought certainly to come. And, finally, poor old Andrew -Quin ought not to be left—the only one—“out in the cold.” - -While Ran was turning these matters over in his mind he was not noticing -what Mrs. Walling was doing. That good lady sat at a small writing-desk -busy with note paper and envelopes. Presently she said: - -“Randolph, dear, give me the address of those good friends of yours.” - -“Friends, madam!” exclaimed Ran, the more taken by surprise that he had -been just thinking of them. It seemed to him that the lady must have -read his thoughts. - -“Yes, those old friends of yours who came on with Judy and the Moseleys -and are boarding somewhere down in the city while waiting for their -steamer.” - -“Oh! yes, madam! You mean Samson Longman and Andrew Quin? They are with -Michael at Markiss’ on Water Street. I do not know the number.” - -“That is not necessary. I am sending them invitations to the wedding and -the breakfast; for though, of course, such a hasty affair as this is -will not admit of much ceremony and elaboration, yet they must be -present. There will be the Moseleys, the Stuarts, ourselves and your -friends from Markiss’.” - -“I should tell you beforehand that those friends of mine come from a -mining camp, and though good and true as men can be, they are rough and -plain.” - -“Well, my dear boy, I have told you who is coming, and so you may know -that these friends will meet no one in our house who will be so silly as -to look down upon them for being rough and plain. Really, Ran, dear, it -ought not to be necessary for me to say this,” concluded the lady. - -For all answer, Randolph Hay went to her side, raised her hand and -pressed it to his lips with reverential tenderness. - -Judy looked up in her face with eyes full of tears and murmured: - -“The Lord in heaven bless you, sweet and lovely lady!” - -Mrs. Walling smiled deprecatingly at this effusiveness and patted Judy -gently on the head. Then she turned to her writing-desk and wrote her -informal notes. These were the only invitations the lady had written. -The few others to the members of the two families more immediately -concerned had been verbal ones. - -When she had finished directing the envelopes she handed them over to -Ran, saying: - -“The letter box is directly on your way home; will you mind dropping -them in?” - -“I will take charge of them with pleasure,” said Ran, and as the hour -was late he arose, said good-night and left the house. - -But Ran did not drop the notes in a letter box. He walked over to Sixth -Avenue, hailed a car, boarded it and rode down as far as that car would -take him, then got out and walked to Markiss’; for he was anxious that -his friends should get their bids as soon as possible. He found Mike, -Longman, and Dandy all sitting smoking in the grimy back parlor behind -Markiss’ bar. - -He entered and sat down among them. There happened to be no other guests -in the room. - -“Well, boys, did you think I had forgotten you?” inquired Ran, really -remorseful for not having sought them out before. - -“If we did we excused you, under the circumstances,” replied Longman, -speaking for the rest. - -“I suppose Mike has told you that I am to marry his sister on Saturday -morning—that is, the day after to-morrow?” - -“Oh, ay! trust Mike for that!” cried old Dandy with a little giggle. - -“Well, I have come to-night to bring you invitations to be present at -the ceremony in the church and afterward at the breakfast at the house. -And, boys, you must be sure to come.” - -“And where am I to get the widding garment proper for the occasion? -Sure, there’s no time to be cutted and fitted and made dacint to appear -in sich grand company, though I thank the lady all the same,” said -Andrew Quin. - -“Why, Dandy! Don’t you know that you are in New York, where you can be -fitted out for a wedding or a funeral or an Arctic expedition in five -minutes—more or less?” laughed Ran. - -“Yes; it’s more or less, I’ll allow. But I do reckon I can get a -ready-made suit of clothes raisonable enough here.” - -“Certainly you can! But you must let me see to that, Dandy. I will be -down here again to-morrow. And, lest I should forget to tell you, I must -do so now. On Saturday morning you must let Mike bring you to the -church. He knows where it is.” - -“All right, Misther Hay,” said Dandy. - -“And, Longman, you have not promised, but you will come, I am sure. My -friends uptown wish to make the acquaintance of the Nimrod who saved my -life.” - -“Oh, Mr. Hay!” laughed the giant deprecatingly. “But I shall be proud to -come to your wedding,” he added. - -Then Ran bade them good-night and went home. - -The next day—Friday—was the last before the wedding and the sailing. -There were yet a few articles to be purchased, and so Mrs. Walling got -ready to go on her usual morning shopping round. She asked Judy to put -on her hat to go with her. - -She did not intend to call for Palma on this occasion; a feeling of -delicacy withheld her from going into the way of her thanks. - -But while the carriage was standing at the door, and while Mrs. Walling -was waiting in the parlor for Judy to join her, Mrs. Cleve Stuart was -announced and entered the room. - -Palma went straight up to Mrs. Walling with outstretched hands and -glowing eyes and said: - -“How shall I thank you for the rich, beautiful dress—the soft, lovely, -caressing dress—that folds me around with the feeling of a friend’s -embrace—your embrace?” - -For answer the lady drew the speaker to her bosom and kissed her, -smiling. - -“I want you to know,” continued Palma, “that I feel more comfort in this -than I should if I had bought it myself out of boundless riches.” - -Again Mrs. Walling kissed her, laughing this time. - -“Every time I put it on I shall feel your love around me.” - -The elder lady pressed both the younger one’s hands and said: - -“We are going out to try to find a suitable sea cloak for Judy. We must -find an extra heavy one. It will be terribly cold crossing the ocean at -this season. They will be on the banks of Newfoundland in the first days -of December. Will you go with us?” - -“With pleasure,” said Palma. And as Judy now entered the room, ready -dressed for the drive, they arose to go out. But just at that moment -Mrs. Duncan was announced and came in. - -Both Mrs. Walling and Palma received her as cordially as if she had not -interrupted their departure. Mrs. Walling then introduced: - -“My young friend, Miss Judith Man.” - -“How do you do, my dear? I am glad to see you,” said the visitor. - -Judy bowed and smiled. - -“You are going out. Don’t let me detain you. I was on my way down to -Fourteenth Street to do a little shopping and just dropped in here to -tell you a piece of news; but I can take another opportunity,” Mrs. -Duncan explained. - -“Oh, no! Pray do not! We should die of suspense! Pray, sit right down -and open your budget. Our errand can wait as well as yours. It is only -shopping. And when you are ready for yours you would oblige us by taking -the fourth seat in our carriage, so that we can go together,” Mrs. -Walling pleaded. - -Mrs. Duncan laid down her muff and shopping bag and seated herself in -one of the luxurious armchairs. - -Mrs. Walling rang a bell and gave an order: - -“Bring coffee into this room.” - -And presently the four women had tiny china cups in their hands, sipping -hot and fragrant Mocha, three of them listening while the fourth told -her news. - -“It is about Jennie Montgomery, the true wife of the counterfeit -Randolph Hay——” began the speaker. - -“Yes! yes!” eagerly exclaimed Mrs. Walling and Palma in a breath, while -Judy looked up in eager curiosity. - -“You know, without any one’s planning—unless fate be some one—that -Jennie and her child were passengers on the same steamship, and even in -the same cabin, with her fraudulent husband and his false bride?” - -“Yes! yes!” - -“I said when I discovered that complication that those elements were as -explosive as dynamite. Neither could have expected the presence of the -other on the steamer, and so I was really anxious to hear what happened -when Miss Leegh and her ‘bridegroom’ met his lawful wife and child on -the ship, on the ocean, whence neither could escape without jumping into -the sea.” - -“Well, have you heard?” impatiently demanded Mrs. Walling. - -“Yes; I have just received a long letter from Jennie, dated November -15th. She had been at home four weeks before she found time to write to -me.” - -“And——” breathlessly exclaimed Mrs. Walling. - -“She met her husband on the deck of the steamer. She was as much -astonished as he was confounded. But I had better read her letter to -you.” - -And the visitor drew a thickly packed envelope, with a foreign stamp, -from her pocket, and read the pages describing Jennie’s voyage, her -meeting with her husband and Miss Leegh on the _Scorpio_, and her -arrival at home in her father’s new vicarage, as these events are -already known to our readers. - -“To think of Jennie’s self-control and forbearance!” concluded Mrs. -Duncan. - -“And to think of Lamia Leegh’s insolence in trying to patronize her, the -real wife of her own ‘brevet’ bridegroom!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling. - -“And to think of the man’s assurance in carrying off matters with such a -high hand!” remarked Palma. - -“Och, sure, and himself had always the impidince av the divil, had -Gintleman Geff!” exclaimed Judy, surprised into her dialect; then, -suddenly aware of her “backsliding,” she clapped her hand to her mouth a -minute too late and looked frightened; but as she saw that neither of -her friends were in the least disturbed she felt relieved, while the -visitor evidently thought that the brogue had been humorously assumed -for the occasion, for she replied in kind: - -“Ay, has he—the thaif av the worruld!” Then, turning to Mrs. Walling, -she continued: “What an active fate there seems to be at work here! Did -you see the significance of the latter part of Jennie’s letter?” - -“Yes, of course; her father has left Medge, in the south of England, and -is in temporary charge of Haymore vicarage, in the north of England,” -replied Mrs. Walling. - -“And our Gentleman Geff of the many wives and aliases, in trying to -escape his one real wife and avoid her father by getting off the steamer -at Queenstown will unwittingly rush into their power again the moment he -sets foot within his stolen estate at Haymore. Now, if his lawful wife -had been anybody else there might be a chance for a show of fight. But -the daughter of the Vicar of Haymore!” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Walling, drawing her breath hard. - -“Jennie writes of the great preparations they are making at Haymore to -receive the usurping squire, who is now expected to arrive with a large -party of invited friends for the Christmas holidays, little knowing that -he will there meet his lawful wife and her avenging, priestly father.” - -“And confront the lawful heir of Haymore with the more terrible family -solicitors,” laughed Mrs. Walling. - -“Then Mr. Randolph Hay is really going over at once to take possession -of his estates?” inquired the visitor. - -“Yes; he sails on Saturday; but not alone—he takes his wife with him. He -will be married on Saturday morning and embark in the afternoon.” - -“Ah, indeed! That is news. I had heard no rumor of his being engaged, or -even attentive to any of our girls. Who is she?” - -“My young friend here,” replied Mrs. Walling, pointing to Judy. - -Mrs. Duncan jumped up and kissed the girl with effusions and -congratulations. - -Judy blushed and smiled and bowed, but did not venture to speak again. - -“The wedding is to be quiet. We don’t want a second edition of the -‘princely nuptials’ of ‘Mr. Randolph Hay’ and Miss Lamia Leegh. They, we -think, have done enough in that way ‘for the honor of the family.’ Our -wedding must be very plain. There are ‘no cards.’ I will not say there -will also be ‘no cake, no nothing.’ So, as you are interested, if you -will drop in, ‘promiscuously,’ at the ‘Little Church Around the Corner’ -about ten o’clock to-morrow morning, you will witness one of the -happiest, though not one of the grandest, weddings on record.” - -“I shall do myself that pleasure without a doubt,” replied Mrs. Duncan. - -And then she arose and took up her muff and hand-bag to intimate that -she was ready to go. - -And the four ladies entered the close carriage that was waiting at the -door and went on their shopping expedition. - -It was perfectly successful, even to the sea cloak, a heavy cloth one, -reaching from head to heel, having long sleeves and hood, and lined -throughout with fur. - -They took Mrs. Duncan to her door. - -“There is one thing I would rather see than the wedding,” said Mrs. -Duncan. - -“And what is that?” inquired Augusta Walling. - -“The circus at Haymore Court when Mr. Randolph Hay and his wife arrive -there and meet Gentleman Geff and Miss Lamia Leegh.” - - - - - CHAPTER XI - A BLITHE BRIDAL - - -It was a splendid winter morning. The snow, which had fallen thickly -during the night, was now frozen hard on the ground, the housetops and -the trees, and sparkled like frosted silver sprinkled with diamond dust -in the dazzling sunshine. - -Mrs. Walling’s household was astir. They were to have an early family -breakfast before dressing to go to church. - -Mrs. Walling and her young protégée met in the breakfast room. Judy was -pale and nervous. - -“Good-morning, my dear. Do you see that the clouds have gone with the -night? A good omen for you, according to the folklore—‘Blessed is the -bride that the sun shines on,’” said the lady as she drew the girl to -her bosom and pressed a kiss on her brow. - -“Oh, ma’am, I have prayed the Lord to bless the day for Ran’s sake, but -my heart misgives me, ma’am,” sighed Judy. - -“That is very natural, but in your case very unreasonable, my child. I -never knew nuptials more promising for future happiness than are yours -and Randolph’s.” - -“Oh, but, ma’am, am I a fit wife for a gentleman?” - -“Not for every gentleman; for there are not so many gentlemen who would -be as worthy of you as Randolph Hay is. But why should you think that -you are not fit for him?” - -“Oh, ma’am, I am only a poor, ignorant girl, and, with all the pains you -and Mrs. Moseley have taken with me, I have not been able to improve -much. Only yesterday I forgot my manners before the strange lady.” - -“You mean that you fell for a moment into the sweet dialect of your -childhood? That did no harm, Judy. And, besides, when you go to London -you will soon drop it altogether.” - -“We are to live in retirement, to be sure, until we are both trained for -society, I know. But still, for all that, I fear I am doing Ran a wrong -to marry him.” - -“Look here, Judy! You and Randolph were engaged to be married to each -other, I think, while you were both in the miners’ camp—you a miner’s -sister; Ran a miner and the partner of your brother. You, neither of -you, dreamed of any higher position or better fortune than luck in the -mines might bring you. Is it not so?” - -“Yes, madam.” - -“Very well, then. Now suppose that it had been to you, instead of to -Randolph, that the unexpected fortune had come? Suppose that some -nobleman of high rank and wealth had suddenly come forward and claimed -you as his lost child and heiress, would you then have broken off with -poor Ran, because he was only a poor miner?” - -“No! No! No!” cried Judy with flashing eyes and rising excitement. “I -nivir could a bin such a baste av the wurruld!” - -Then she suddenly stopped and clapped her hands to her lips. - -“But if Randolph had taken it into his head that he, a poor miner, was -no fit husband for you under your changed circumstances, what would you -have done?” - -“I should have broken me harrt entirely!” exclaimed Judy, falling again -into dialect, as she always did when strongly moved. - -“And yet you can talk about not being a fit wife for Randolph, just -because, since his engagement to you, he has come into a fortune. My -dear, you should consider your betrothal so sacred that no change of -fortune could be able to affect it.” - -“I see it, ma’am! I see it! And I will say no more about it,” said Judy, -smiling through her timid tears. - -“And now we will have breakfast,” said Mrs. Walling, rising and ringing -the bell. - -The tray was brought in at one door, while Mr. Walling came in at the -other, and the three sat down to breakfast, the master of the house -merely greeting the guest with a kindly: - -“Good-morning, my dear,” as he took his seat at the table. - -As soon as breakfast was finished they separated to dress for church. - -I would like, also, to give my reader a glimpse of the young -bridegroom-expectant on this the morning of his wedding day, in his -temporary home in the apartment house occupied by Stuart and Palma. - -The three young people breakfasted together in the little, elegant -parlor of the Stuarts’ suite of rooms, Mrs. Pole waiting on them. - -Ran’s face shone with joy that he could not hide; Cleve’s and Palma’s -were bright with sympathetic smiles. - -Ran had entreated Mike Man to come and share his rooms at these flats -until the wedding day and the embarkation for Europe, but Mike had -steadily refused, declaring that, well as he loved his brother-in-law, -he would be out of place among Ran’s fine friends, and that he would -feel more at home “along wid Samson and Dandy.” Mike had decided to -accompany these old friends to Europe, in the second cabin of the same -steamer on which Ran had taken a stateroom in the first cabin for -himself and his bride. These three miners were going home to the old -country to settle there. Different motives actuated the three. Old Dandy -wished to spend his declining years among old friends. Longman wanted to -return to his aged and widowed mother. Mike could not stay behind all -his friends, and must go with them. - -What each was to do on the other side of the ocean was not very clear, -even to themselves. Each had a little money saved up. Dandy thought he -would sink his savings in a life annuity. Longman hoped to get a -gamekeeper’s place on some estate. Mike wanted to go to school for a -little while. He was really nineteen years old, but so small and slender -that he might easily have passed for a schoolboy. But he meant to keep -near his mining “pards,” so as not to “inthrude” on Ran and Judy and -their fine friends. - -Vainly had faithful Ran combated this resolution. Mike had been firm, -and Ran had to yield the point. - -Now, as Ran sat at table with Stuart and Palma, the latter said to him: - -“You and Judy will be married as Cleve and myself were—without -bridesmaid or groomsman.” - -“Yes,” said Ran; “but it is not my fault or Judy’s. I wanted Judy’s -brother, my old partner, Mike Man, to be my groomsman, which would have -been right enough; but Mike stoutly refused. If Mike had consented to -stand up with me, then Judy might have had a bridesmaid in one of the -Moseley young ladies. But, no; Mike was as stubborn as a mule. To be -sure, I know that Mr. Jim Moseley and Miss Betty Moseley would have -kindly stood up with us, but Judy said no; and so we must stand up -alone.” - -“It is just as well. And now, my dear,” said Palma, rising from her seat -with a pretty little matronly air of authority, “as you have finished -your breakfast, you had better go and dress yourself. Your carriage was -ordered at half-past nine, I think. When you have finished, come to me -that I may put the last touches on your toilet—twirl the curls and -mustache, and pin the boutonnière, as you have no valet. Though, I -suppose, you will set up some Monsieur Frangipanni as your personal -attendant and dresser.” - -“Thank you, Cousin Palma. Never! Never! I should be too much in awe of -such a grand dignitary,” said Ran, laughing, as he left the room. - -“What a happy dog he is, my dear,” exclaimed Stuart to his wife as they -also retired to dress for the wedding. - -Meanwhile, at this same hour, in an upper room at Markiss’ Hotel on -Water Street, another scene of preparation was going on. - -Samson Longman, Andrew Quin, and Michael Man were dressing for the -wedding. - -The three men were fresh from the bath and the barber. Longman had his -hair cut and his fine, flowing beard dressed, and, with his strong, -regular features and his clear, blue eyes, looked a very handsome -colossus, indeed. He wore a fashionable dress suit of black cloth, with -a vest of black satin, a small white tie, a tea rose in his buttonhole, -white kid gloves and patent leather boots. - -He looked every inch a gentleman, as he really was. - -Dandy had had his red hair and side whiskers trimmed and dressed. He -also wore a dress suit of exactly the same style of Longman’s, even to -the little details of the white tie, tea rose, kid gloves and patent -leathers. - -Mike, with his short, dark, curly hair neatly arranged, his fresh face, -innocent of beard or mustache, and his slight figure in a dress suit -proper to the occasion, looked like a boy got up for a birthday party, -or a freshman ready for his first college exhibition. - -“Come, Mike! Stop admiring yourself and hurry up. Dandy, come! It is -nine o’clock, and time to start if we are to reach the church and get -seated in time to see the wedding party come in,” said Longman. - -“Eh, Lorrd! But me courage has sunk down into the bottom av me boots! -What would ail me to be pushing meself amongst gentlefolk, anyway?” -exclaimed the nervous old man. - -“Because it is my own Ran and Judy’s wedding, sure, and you are invited. -And they would feel hurt by your absence,” replied Mike. - -“Eh, Lorrd, I wouldn’t mind the church so much. Sure, ivirybody’s free -to go into a church. But it’s the breakfast. Sure, an’ I nivir sat down -to the table wid gentlefolks in all my life, and wouldn’t know more’n -the babe just born how to behave myself, Lorrd! and if all tales be -thrue, gentlefolks’ ways at table is that diffunt from our’n!” sighed -Dandy. - -“I suppose they eat, and drink, and talk, and laugh pretty much as other -people do. Take courage, Dandy, old man. Just look at yourself in the -glass! Why, you might be a Wall Street millionaire, or a college -professor, or a United States Senator, to look at you,” laughed Longman. - -“I know!” exclaimed Dandy with a self-satisfied smirk after glancing at -the mirror. “Sure, ‘fine feathers make fine birds!’ And it is not how I -look, at all, at all, but how I’m to behave, what I’m to say, and what -I’m to do. That’s what bothers me.” - -“Oh, bosh! You needn’t do anything nor say anything unless you like to. -As for behaving, just watch other people and behave as they do.” - -“Now, that’s a first-rate idea o’ your’n, Longman—first-rate. And I’ll -jist be guided by that. I’ll watch the gentry, and behave jist as they -do, and thin I can’t do amiss!” exclaimed Dandy, brightening up. - -A very dangerous rule, with many unsuspected exceptions. - -“And now put on your overcoats and draw your woolen mittens over your -white kids, and come along, you two, or we shall be late,” said Longman, -who had already put on all his outer garments and stood ready to march. - -When the three men were quite ready they went downstairs together, -walked over to the Fourth Avenue cars, boarded one and rode uptown; got -out at Blank Street, and walked to the church. - -There was no sign about the building to indicate a wedding for that -morning. The doors were closed, and there was not a carriage nor a human -being near the sacred building. - -The truth is that the Wallings and all concerned in the affair had kept -the intended wedding not only out of the papers but out of all gossiping -circles. They did not want to have a sensational supplement to the -magnificent pageantry of the grand Hay-Leegh wedding. And their -reticence had even extended to a firm refusal to indorse any -journalistic report of the appearance of the rightful claimant to the -Haymore estate. - -“Don’t you think we hev bin afther making a mistake in the place, Mr. -Longman?” inquired Dandy, looking mistrustingly up to the closed and -silent building. - -“No; we’re the first that’s come, that’s all. Walk in.” - -And so saying he led the way, opening first the great black walnut outer -door and then the red cloth inner door and entering the church. - -There they found the sexton, who asked them for cards. - -Longman produced the three informal notes written by Mrs. Walling, and -the sexton, after looking at them, marshaled the three men up the aisle, -between empty pews, to seats near the altar, where they sat down. - -When they had become accustomed to the “dim religious light” of the -interior, they perceived that they themselves were the only persons in -the church. - -“You see that we are early,” said Longman. - -“Well, sure, thin, I’m not sorry. I can compose the narves av me,” -replied Dandy. - -They drew off their overcoats, folded them, and put them under the -seats, shoved their silk hats after the coats, and then took off their -woolen mitts, rolled them up, and put them in their pockets, and posed -themselves for the scene expected. - -Presently the door opened and quite a large party entered, and were led -by the sexton to the front row of pews before the chancel. - -“It’s the bowld Col. Moseley and his tribe, sure,” said Mike in a low -voice to his companions. - -Dandy looked up. - -It was the tribe, indeed. The colonel, his wife and ten of his girls and -boys. The two youngest children had been left at home on account of -their tender age. The colonel’s wife wore her Sunday suit of brown -satin, with a brown velvet bonnet and a rich old India shawl that had -been an heirloom in her family, having come down to her from her -great-grandmother. Her many daughters wore plain cardinal-red or -navy-blue dresses, with plush coats and felt hats to match. - -Next entered a single pair, unknown to Longman and Dandy, but not to us. -They were Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart. Palma wore her lovely suit of -navy-blue demassée velvet, with turban to match. - -They were provided with seats to the left of the Moseleys. - -A few minutes after them came a lady alone. She was Mrs. Duncan, in a -plum-colored satin dress and a sealskin coat and cap. - -Finally, just as the organ began to peal forth a magnificent wedding -march, streamed in two processions from two opposite points. - -First, out from the vestry door came two white-robed clergymen, with -open books in their hands, followed by the bridegroom, in evening dress, -with a white rose in his buttonhole. - -“Ah, thin, see till our broth av a b’hoy! Sure, don’t his face shine -like the morning starr itself?” whispered Dandy to his companion. - -Longman looked and saw Ran, with his brow radiant with frank happiness -which he did not think of suppressing. - -“Whish! Look down the aisle itself! There comes me swate swishter! Och! -what an angel!” murmured Mike. - -Longman looked and smiled. - -Dandy turned his head and caught his breath. He had never in all his -life seen anything half so lovely as little Judy in her bridal array. -And yet her dress was simple enough. She wore a plain white silk, -trained; a white tulle overskirt, looped with sprays of orange buds; a -white tulle veil, fastened above her curly, black hair with sprigs of -orange buds; and on her neck and arms a set of pearls given her by Ran. -Her eyes were cast down until their long, sweeping, black lashes lay on -her slightly flushed oval cheeks. She came slowly, leaning on the arm of -Samuel Walling, who was to give her away. - -No doubt her brother would have been asked to perform this service, but -that he was under age. And, besides, he would have shrunk from the honor -of taking so conspicuous a part in the ceremony, since he would not even -officiate as groomsman. - -Behind them came Mrs. Samuel Walling, in a superb suit of ruby brocaded -velvet, with turban to match. She was leaning on the arm of her -brother-in-law, Mr. William Walling. - -The two clergymen advanced to the altar railing with open books in their -hands. - -The bridegroom met the bride and took her hand; both bowed to the -officiating ministers, and then knelt down on the hassocks before the -altar. - -Their immediate friends drew around them. The company in the pews stood -up. - -Mike bent eagerly, breathlessly forward. - -The ceremony began. It continued amid a breathless silence, unbroken -except by the voices of the officiating ministers and responses of the -kneeling pair before them, and the short reply of the “church father” in -bestowing “this woman” upon “this man.” - -After the benediction was pronounced friends crowded around the newly -wedded young pair with congratulations that were not merely -conventional, but earnest, heartfelt. - -Mike crept out of his pew, glided easily through the crowd, and stood -before his sister and brother-in-law, mute, unable to speak, still -looking like a very shy schoolboy at his college exhibition. - -But Ran seized his hand and shook it heartily, and held it fast while he -said: - -“Mike—dear boy—we were always brothers in heart, and now we are brothers -in reality! Are you not going to embrace your sister? She is not less -your sister because she is my wife, but more so, for she has married -your bosom’s everlasting brother.” - -Mike then turned to Judy, who opened her arms and folded him to her -heart in a warm embrace. - -Longman and Dandy hung back for a little while, and then the old man -stood up and said: - -“I can’t stand it at all, at all! Sure, I must go and spake to the -darlints!” - -And out of the pew he went, and up to the chancel, where “fine” friends -were still surrounding the young pair. - -They made way for the eager old man as he pushed through the group and -confronted Ran and Judy, offering each a hand and crying with emotion: - -“I’ve come to wish ye the blissing av the Lord and all His holy saints, -me brave bhoy and gurrul—I mane Misther and Misthress Randolph Hay av -Hayti!” - -Ran and Judy took each a hand of the old miner and said something -inarticulate in kindly thanks. Then, seeing Longman standing behind and -towering above Dandy, Ran held up his hand and the colossus came forward -and offered his congratulations, which both Ran and Judy received with -much hearty feeling. - -“I do not forget, Longman, that I never should have lived to see this -happy day but for you,” said Ran, warmly pressing his hands, while -Judy’s smile expressed all that she also would have said if she could -have spoken. - -“Come, my young friends,” said Mr. Samuel Walling, approaching the -group, “we must not keep the reverend gentlemen waiting; we must go into -the vestry room and sign the register.” And he drew Judy’s arm within -his own and carried her off, followed by Ran and the rest. - -When this form was completed the small company left the church. - -There were but two carriages waiting before the door. One was Mrs. -Walling’s, in which she had brought the bride to the church; the other -was Ran’s, in which he was going to take his wife back. - -Mrs. Walling stood until she had seen Ran hand Judy into the clarence -and take his seat beside her, when she turned to William Walling and -said: - -“Well! I would like to give you a seat back to the house; but I want to -take in Mr. and Mrs. Stuart. Go up in the street car—that is a good -fellow! And while you are at it see after those poor fellows from the -mines. Get them into the same car with yourself, so that they won’t miss -their way.” - -“All right!” exclaimed good-humored Mr. Will. “Where are the bears?” - -“There they are!” she said, nodding toward the three men coming from the -church door. “Go and introduce yourself to them, and then you will be -capable of bringing them up to the house and presenting them to your -brother and myself. They are great friends of Ran, you know. One of them -saved his life! They came with the colonel’s family and Judy from -California. Now be off!” added the lady as she saw her friends, Mr. and -Mrs. Stuart, approaching, and went to meet them, saying to Palma: - -“My dear, I have been waiting for you to come out. I have two vacant -places in my carriage. I should be much pleased if you and Mr. Stuart -would take them.” - -“Thank you very much. You are very kind,” said Palma, accepting the -offer as frankly as it was given. - -Stuart bowed—there was nothing left for him to say or do. The “ladies” -had made the arrangement! That was enough for the Southern gentleman. - -They entered the carriage with Mr. and Mrs. Walling and were driven -rapidly uptown. - -The colonel’s large family crowded into a street car. - -Will Walling, Longman and Dandy found seats in another car. - -And so the wedding guests went their way to the Walling house. - -Arrived there, the ladies and children, only nine in all, were shown -into an upper room to lay off their bonnets and wraps and add bouquets -and white kid gloves to their toilets. - -The gentlemen, ten in all, were shown into another room for light -changes. - -And after half an hour’s performances they all filed down to the -drawing-room, where they found their host and hostess, and the bride and -groom, waiting to receive them. - -Here also the wedding presents were on view for a short time, before -being packed and dispatched to the steamer, which was to be effected -while the company should be at table. There was a silver tea service -from Mr. and Mrs. Walling; a silver salver from Mr. Will; a gold watch -and chain from Col. and Mrs. Moseley; a box of fine handkerchiefs from -Cleve and Palma Stuart—this was the same box that had been given by -Cleve to Palma months before, but not a handkerchief had been disturbed, -and having nothing else to give she gave it now, with Cleve’s consent. -There was a gold chain and cross from Mike; a pretty hand-bag from -Longman, a workbox from Dandy, and various dainty trifles, mostly of -their own manufacture, from the Moseley girls and boys. - -A little later the butler slid back the rolling portières and announced -breakfast, which was laid in a long rear room. - -The wedding party—host and hostess, bride and groom, and guests, filed -in and seated themselves at the table—nine on each side, host and -hostess at the head and foot. Ran and Judy sat on the right side of Mrs. -Walling, Col. and Mrs. Moseley on her left. Below Judy sat Mr. and Mrs. -Cleve Stuart. Below Mrs. Moseley sat Mr. William Walling and Mrs. -Duncan. - -Longman sat on Mr. Walling’s right hand, and Dandy on his left. Other -guests, chiefly the young people of the colonel’s family, filled all the -other seats. Mike sat halfway up on the right side of the board. - -Two waiters, in black dress suits, white satin waistcoats and kid -gloves, served the guests. - -Tea, coffee or chocolate was offered. - -Dandy took tea—in what a little, fragile eggshell of a cup! How -different from the massive, yellow bowl from which he used to gulp great -draughts of that rare luxury, or something made up to imitate it. - -He was afraid to touch this chrysalis for fear he should crush it. He -left it on the table before him, and following Longman’s given rule, -watched to see how other people handled their cups; as a matter of -detail, he watched Col. Moseley, who stood, in his estimation, for the -most perfect gentleman he knew. - -By this precaution he avoided the mistake of pouring his tea into his -saucer, which otherwise he would surely have done; for what on earth -else were saucers made for anyhow? - -Presently came around the boned turkey and the chicken salad. - -Dandy chose the salad. But where was the knife with which to shovel the -delicious compounds into his capacious mouth? Clearly the waiter had -neglected his duty in providing a knife, for there was nothing beside -his plate but a silver instrument with four fine prongs. In despair he -looked in the direction of his model, the colonel, and saw that -gentleman eating with the silver thing, holding it in his right hand. -All the others round the table were doing the same thing! - -Old Dandy shook his head, saying within himself: - -“Sure, and I don’t like these newfangled ways; they ain’t Irish, nor -’Merican, nor they ain’t natural, nuther! But it’s a baste I am to be -finding fault at Ran’s wedding, so it is.” - -And then Dandy ate his salad as well as he could with his unaccustomed -instrument. - -The fest went on, and delicacy after delicacy was served. Plates were -often changed, dishes were changed. Tea, coffee and chocolate gave place -to tokay, champagne and johanisberg. - -Dandy, following what he considered a safe rule, but which was soon -proved to be anything else but safe, did as he saw other people do, and -got through the feast very creditably until at length Col. Moseley arose -in his place and called the attention of the company in a neat little -speech, which he concluded with: - -“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to propose the health -of the bride and groom.” - -Up jumped Dandy to do as other people—notably his model colonel did, and -exclaimed: - -“Me, too, ladies and gintlemin! I purpose the good health of the bride -and groom!” - -Consternation fell for a moment on the company, but the colonel had -suffered more than one “surprise” in the course of his military life, -and he was equal to the occasion. - -“Thank you, sir, in the name of our friends,” he said gravely, bowing to -Dandy. “Then, gentlemen, fill up your glasses.” - -The toast was honored. And no one felt more satisfied with himself and -with all the world than did Dandy Quin. - -Other toasts were offered and equally honored, Dandy taking a -conspicuous part in every one. - -It was twelve o’clock when the guests sat down to the table. It was two -when they arose and withdrew to the drawing-room. - -Then Judy went upstairs to change her light bridal dress for the heavy -green cloth suit that was to defend her from the wintry winds of the -open sea. - -At her earnest request no one was to go down to the steamer to see them -off. - -“Because I shall behave badly. I know I shall. I shall cry. And it is so -awful to cry in public!” said Judy. - -All her effects had been packed and sent on the steamer, except the one -little trunk into which her last belongings were to go, and which was to -be put into the carriage with her. - -So as soon as she was dressed for the departure—cloth suit, fur-lined -cloak, beaver poke and all—she came down, into the drawing-room, where -all her friends were assembled, and there she bade them all good-by. She -kissed, embraced and wept over her friends, one after the other; but -when she came to Mrs. Moseley she clung to her as if she could never -leave her, weeping as if her heart would break. - -At last it was that tender lady herself who gently unwound the girl’s -arms from around her neck, and stooping, whispered: - -“Look at Ran, dear. See how distressed he is. He must not see you grieve -so!” - -Judy hastily wiped her eyes. - -Mrs. Moseley beckoned Ran, who came forward and received the girl from -the lady’s arms. - -“Oh, Ran, dear,” sobbed Judy, falling into her dialect, “don’t ye moind -me crying. Sure it’s a cowld-harrted craychur I’d be not to graive, -parting with the loikes av her, a rale highborn leddy as has ben sich a -mother to me.” - -“My own dear Judy!” whispered Ran. And that was all he could say. - -Mike had taken leave of all his friends and had gone on before. But -there were two more whom Judy thought she must bid good-by to. - -“Where is Misther Longman and Uncle Dandy?” - -“Here we are, Misthress Hay!” answered old Dandy from the hall. - -“Oh! I must bid ye good-by, dear frinds!” said Judy, holding out her -hand. - -“Nivir a bit of it, hinny. Sure we’re all in the same boat! That is, the -same stamer! We go wid ye across the say! On’v ye’s go in the grand -first cabin, and we go in the second. Our duds went on board this -morning, and Mike’s gone down to the tovvurn to pay our score. And, -sure, he’ll join us on the stamer!” said Dandy. - -“Oh! I knew Mike was to go with us, but didn’t know you were. I am so -glad you are going with us!” exclaimed Judy, drying her last tears. - -But Ran was hurrying her into the carriage that was to take them to the -steamer. When he had placed her in her seat he returned to speak to the -two men. - -“Since you are going in the same ship, ride down with us. There are two -vacant seats in our carriage,” he said. - -“Couldn’t think of such a thing!” exclaimed Longman, laughing. “What! -intrude on a bride and groom! We appreciate your magnanimity and thank -you mightily, but we couldn’t think of it!” - -And though Ran urged his invitation, Longman steadily refused it, much -to Dandy’s disgust, who would willingly have enjoyed the luxury of a -ride in that elegant clarence. - -“We will go down in the horse cars and get there before you. You’ll find -us on deck when you arrive. Come, Dandy!” said Longman, and raising his -felt wide awake, he walked away, carrying off his unwilling little old -friend. - -Ran entered the carriage and gave the order to the coachman. And they -started for the steamer. - -A half-hour’s drive brought them to the crowded pier, and five minutes’ -struggle through the confusion transferred them to the deck of the -_Boadicea_, where they found Will Walling, Mike, Longman, and Dandy -waiting for them. - -“No more partings here, dear Judy. Here are meetings!” said Ran with a -smile. - -An hour later the _Boadicea_ sailed. - -At that same moment Mrs. Duncan, taking leave of Mrs. Walling, repeated -her words: - -“Ah! won’t there be a circus when Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay confront -Gentleman Geff and Miss Leegh at Haymore! How I would like to be there!” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - DARKEST BEFORE DAY - - -Stuart took his wife home from the wedding breakfast. It was four -o’clock, and the wintry sun was low on the western horizon. - -Mrs. Pole had a good fire burning in the little grate when they entered -the parlor. - -“See, Poley! I have brought you a piece of the wedding cake to dream on, -you know!” said Palma, offering a pretty little box done up in silver -paper. - -“Ah, my dear! My dreaming days are long past! long past!” sighed the old -woman, as, nevertheless, she took the box. - -“What a prosaic old fogy you are, Poley, to be sure. For that matter all -our dreaming days are over after we are married, I reckon.” - -“Yes, honey, until we begin to dream for our children.” - -Palma blushed and sank into sudden silence. She was beginning to dream -sweet dreams of motherhood, but that was her own precious secret, she -imagined, not suspecting that Mrs. Pole knew as much about it as she did -herself, and perhaps more. To cover her confusion she laughed and said: - -“Well, Poley, if you do not care to dream on the cake yourself you can -give it to some young friends of yours, to one of your many cousins or -nieces; they will be glad to have it.” - -Then she threw off her turban and her wraps, drew off her gloves and -sank into an easy-chair before the fire. - -“After all, it is good to be quiet at home, is it not, Cleve? I love -this little snuggery of ours. We can live very happily here until next -May, and then flit to the woods and mountains again. I think I like our -simple way of life. Cleve, quite as well, if not better, than if you -spent all the revenues of your Mississippi plantation in living in the -grand style of some of our friends. What do you think, Cleve?” she -inquired, stretching out her pretty feet to the grateful warmth of the -fire. - -He did not answer in words—he could not; he laid his hand tenderly on -her curly, black hair and turned slowly away and went out of the room. - -Palma received the caress as a full assent to all that she had said, and -smiled to herself as she gazed into the fire. - -Cleve Stuart went downstairs and out upon the sidewalk, and paced up and -down before the house. This was his nightly promenade ground, where he -came to smoke his cigar. But this evening he had no cigar, nor even the -wherewithal to get one. - -Yes, it had come to this—Cleve Stuart was absolutely penniless. He had -paid out his last dime on the horse cars that brought himself and his -wife from the wedding breakfast. This was Saturday, the second of -December. On Monday, the fourth, their month’s rent would be due, and -there was not a penny to meet it. - -What should he do? - -If all his remaining earthly possessions were pawned they would not -bring money enough to meet the demand of their landlord. - -Nor could he hope for any forbearance from that quarter. The terms of -the contract were strict, and amounted, in brief, to this: “Pay or go.” - -Nor could he bring himself to the shame, not to say the dishonesty, of -trying to borrow money which he could foresee no way of paying. - -This was the pass to which his marriage with Palma had brought him! Did -he regret his marriage? - -“No,” he said to himself, “though I proposed to her, first of all, under -the diabolical influence of the beautiful fiend who had me in her power, -and for mercenary purposes that were to serve us, the two conspirators, -yet for one redeeming event I do thank Providence—and that is that I -discovered Palma to be penniless as well as invalided before I married -her. Then I kept faith with her; I married her; I saved her precious -life, and I have grown to know her and to love her above all things on -earth. And to whatever straits I may be reduced, and however much I may -suffer, I will, so far as possible, shield my beloved one from knowing -them or sharing them. But in the meantime what in the name of Heaven am -I to do? And what is to become of her? Men in such straits as mine have -been driven, are daily driven, to commit suicide. We read such cases in -almost every paper, and often with the concluding comment: ‘No motive -could be discovered for the desperate deed.’ I suppose, now, if I were -to be so lost to a sense of justice as to end my trouble with a shot -to-night, it would be said to-morrow: ‘He had just come from a wedding -breakfast, where he appeared among the happiest of the guests. No motive -can be surmised for his desperate deed.’ As if men paraded their -perplexities to all and sundry, in season and out of season, and wore -their motives and intentions pinned on their sleeves—especially such -motives and intentions. Pah! nothing could drive me to such a deed. I -must live and brave my fate, trusting in Heaven, doing my duty! But all -the same, sweet little Palma, if it were Heaven’s will, I think it would -be well if you and I should fall asleep to-night and never awake again -in this world!” - -So deep, so painful, so absorbing was his reverie that he did not -perceive the approach of the postman, who ran against him in the dark, -begged his pardon and passed on until he reached the main entrance of -the apartment house, went in, came out, and hurried on again out of -sight up the street. - -Stuart had scarcely noticed him, beyond muttering, “Not at all,” when -the other had said, “Beg pardon, sir.” And now he thought no more of the -incident, but continued his walk for an hour, as if by wearying his body -he might relieve his mind. - -Presently, thinking that this was their dinner hour, though he had -little appetite for dinner just now, he turned and entered the hall. He -did not ring up the elevator, but he walked heavily up the five flights -of stairs. It was a mental relief to fatigue himself to faintness. - -He entered the little parlor and found not dinner, but the tea table -spread. - -Palma was sitting behind the urn and waiting for him. The fire was very -bright, the parlor very snug, and the little wife very happy. If this -could only continue! - -“I thought, after a wedding feast at two o’clock, that tea would be -better than dinner at six. So I told Poley. Do you mind, Cleve?” -inquired Palma. - -“No, dear; indeed, I prefer tea; it will be more refreshing,” he -replied, trying to overcome the heaviness of his soul so that it should -not appear in his look or tone. - -“And Poley has made some of her delicious, light, puffy muffins. I never -saw any so nice anywhere as she can make. I tell you, Cleve, dear, if -our riches should suddenly ‘take unto themselves wings and fly away,’ -Poley and I would open a bake shop with a specialty of these tea -muffins. Poley should make them. I would stand behind the counter and -sell them and you should keep the accounts, and we should all three make -our fortunes and divide the profits,” said Palma as she poured out the -delicate Japan tea. - -Stuart smiled as he took a cup from her hand. - -“Oh, I forgot to tell you. There’s a letter for you! It came while you -were out. I put it on the corner of the mantelpiece. Will you look at it -now?” - -“No, dear; I know what it is. It is only the bill for the month’s rent. -The landlord always sends it on the third of the month, and as the third -comes on Sunday this time, he has sent it on Saturday, a day earlier.” - -“Try a muffin, Cleve. You don’t know how nice they are.” - -He took one to please her. - -Then she chatted on about the wedding they had just attended, and the -young pair who had just sailed for Europe. - -“They are so anxious that we shall go and visit them at Haymore as soon -as they shall be settled there, Cleve. And, indeed, I did promise to use -all my influence with you to persuade you to take me over next summer. -Why, Cleve, it would be ever so much pleasanter than to go to Lull’s -again, even! And yet I used to think Lull’s was just Paradise! What do -you think, Cleve?” - -“I think, my dear one, that it would be very delightful to spend the -summer with our friends at Haymore. As much as I have traveled, I have -never been in Yorkshire.” - -“Then you think we may go?” eagerly demanded Palma. - -“Providence permitting, yes, my dear,” he replied. - -She perceived no evasion in this answer. Indeed, the phrase was her own -habitual formula whenever she fully intended to do any certain thing, -“Providence permitting.” She took his words for consent and answered -gleefully: - -“That will be something to look forward to during the winter.” - -Stuart smiled. Ah! how hard to keep up that cheerful countenance and -light tone when his heart was so heavy and his mind so dark. - -They lingered long at the tea table, because Palma was full of life and -of the enjoyment of all life’s blessings, in possession and in -anticipation. - -When they arose at last and the table was cleared of the tea service, -and the books and magazines replaced on it, Palma took her workbasket -and Cleve a book, and she sewed at mending gloves, he read aloud “The -Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood.” - -The letter on the mantelpiece, confidently believed to be the rent bill, -was not looked at, or even thought of. There it lay, and was fated to -lay, until Monday morning. - -The young pair retired at their usual hour; but only Palma slept. The -vulture of anxiety, gnawing at his heart, kept Stuart wide awake. - -Sunday dawned clear, bright and beautiful. - -The young couple arose and breakfasted and went to church. - -They walked all the way, not because Cleve had not a dime to pay car -fare—though he had not—but because Palma never wished to tax the horses -on the Sabbath day except in cases of absolute necessity. - -“Because,” she urged, “the merciful command of the Lord provides for the -rest of the beast as well as of the man, and these horses work hard -enough all the week to rest on Sunday.” - -And Stuart had always yielded to her scruples in this respect. - -The organ was pealing forth a fine voluntary when they entered the -church and took their seats. The music ceased and the service began. -Palma entered into it with all the loving devotion of her heart and -soul. Cleve could not concentrate his thoughts on worship, though he -tried to do so. - -After a little while, in due course, the first hymn was given out, and -the first line fell like a trumpet blast, calling the Christian soul to -hope and courage: - - “Give to the winds thy fears! - Hope and be undismayed! - God hears thy sighs and sees thy tears, - God shall lift up thy head.” - -The words thrilled him, aroused him; all the black shadows of grief, -shame, despair and desperation, which had bowed and cowed his spirit -with the sense of helplessness and humiliation, rolled away as before a -rising sun. It seemed wonderful, miraculous, a memory of divine -intervention that never left him in all his after life. He had always -worshiped God as the supreme ruler of the universe; but never had known -Him as the Heavenly Father. But from this hour he knew, or rather he -felt, that “the God of the universe, the God of the race, was the God of -the individual man,” the giver of life, the giver of heaven, the giver -of the daily bread as well. - -The sermon which followed was from the text: “Are not two sparrows sold -for a farthing? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without -your Father.... Fear not, therefore, ye are of more value than many -sparrows.” - -The sermon that followed was almost worthy of the text, not quite, for -no man’s nor angel’s words can add to the Word of the Lord; but it was -faithfully, lovingly and practically applied, and it did good service. - -At the end of the worship Stuart, as well as Palma, came out into the -sunlight refreshed and comforted. - -That morning Stuart, in his dark mood, had shrunk from the exertion of -going to church. What would be the use? he had thought in his secret -heart; and he had tried to excuse himself to Palma, but she, from a -feeling of duty, had persuaded him to go. - -Now as they walked uptown through the sunny air he said: - -“I am very glad we went to church to-day, dear.” - -“So am I. We got our daily bread, our heavenly manna there, did we not?” - -“Yes.” - -They reached home and found their pleasant little parlor aglow with the -bright fire in the grate, and inviting with the neatly spread table and -the simple midday meal of the Sabbath. - -Mrs. Pole had also been to church at a much nearer point, and had got -home before them in good time to lay the cloth. - -Dinner over, they spent the afternoon in reading. - -They had an early tea, and then went out to church for the evening -service, walking there and back again. They reached home after ten -o’clock, for the way was long. They were revived in spirit and -wholesomely fatigued in body, so that they soon retired to rest and -slept well. Even Stuart slept, though he believed that this night ended -their last day in their pretty home, and that the next morning would -send them adrift, bereft of all their effects, except the clothes they -wore, and Heaven only knew whither! But—they would be in their Father’s -world! No one could turn them out of that. So they slept in peace. - -I have been particular in describing these last two days of Stuart’s and -Palma’s experience, for they were ever after memorable in their lives. - -On Monday morning they arose early, as usual. It had been Stuart’s daily -custom to go out after breakfast in search of employment. He had -continued this under all discouragements. - -Yet this morning he stayed at home to see the landlord’s collector, who -always arrived the day after the bill had come by mail. As the bill had -arrived on Saturday, and the collector could not come on Sunday, he -would certainly put in an appearance on Monday, and Palma must not be -left alone to receive him—under the circumstances. - -Palma took her knitting—a pair of mittens for Mrs. Pole—and sat down to -work near the window, from which she could look below upon the housetops -and above to the glorious December sky. - -Stuart took a book and threw himself into a rocking-chair by the table, -but he did not read. He was waiting—for what? He did not know. - -The door opened and “the boy” came in, silently laid a letter on the -table, and went out again. - -Stuart took it up and opened it. Palma looked up from her work. - -“Why—this is the rent bill. I thought it came Saturday. Where is that -letter that came?” Stuart inquired. - -“On the corner of the mantelpiece. I’ll get it for you,” said Palma; and -she arose and handed him the letter. - -He took it and gazed at it. - -“I don’t know the handwriting at all,” he said meditatively, “and it is -postmarked ‘Wolfswalk, West Virginia.’ I should think it was intended -for some one else, if my name was not such an uncommon one, and -certainly there is no one else in this house that bears it.” And he -turned it over and over and scrutinized it after the strange manner of -people who receive a mysterious letter and play with their own curiosity -by delaying to open it. At length he broke the envelope and unfolded the -letter. - -First of all he turned to the signature, which was at the bottom of the -fourth page, so that he did not happen to open the sheet and find what -lay between the leaves. - -“‘John Cleve!’” he exclaimed. “Why, dear Palma, this is from my old -bachelor great-uncle, who, I thought, had been gathered to his fathers -ages ago. He must be at least eighty years old.” - -“Oh, Cleve, read it to me! I never knew you had an uncle,” said Palma, -dropping her work and coming and leaning over the back of his chair so -that she could look at the open letter. - -Cleve read as follows: - - “WOLFSWALK, WEST VIRGINIA, - “November 25, 186—. - - “MY DEAR GRAND-NEPHEW: You will be surprised to get a letter from me, - of whom you can have but little memory, as you have not seen me since - you were a babe of three years old, when your dear mother—my dear and - only niece—brought you to my house. - - “Since her lamented death, in Mississippi, I had completely lost sight - of you, thinking of you as in the hands of competent guardians during - your minority, and of leading a prosperous life as an active planter - on your estate since your majority. I thought of writing to you, but - neglected to do so. How families do get separated in this world, to be - sure, neglecting each other, forgetting each other, like aliens! - - “Several circumstances have occurred to bring you forcibly to my mind - of late. First, the fact that my two grand-nephews, Frank and James, - sole descendants of my only nephew, Charles, fell on the field of Cold - Harbor, fighting for their native State. They died unmarried. This - leaves you my sole heir. - - “As soon as I learned this fact I wrote to you in Mississippi, but - failed to get a letter from you. I wrote to the postmaster of your - post office there, and learned from him that you had been an absentee - from home for many years. - - “Then I thought of advertising for you, but so hated the plan that I - delayed putting it in execution. - - “At length chance favored me and gave the information I desired. A - neighbor of mine went off on a business trip and was in Washington - City last week, and met there a friend of yours—a Mr. Walling, of New - York. By the merest accident your name came up—neither of the - gentlemen knowing of how much importance it was to me—and Fairfax - heard that you were in New York City, and, in fact, much about you - which it is not necessary to repeat here, but all of which he told me. - Therefore, I write you this letter. - - “And now, since you are not bound down to your Mississippi plantation, - and since you are my sole heir, and I am old and feeble, and cannot - last long, I ask you to be a good boy, and a dutiful nephew, and to - come and bring your wife and live with me on the farm. - - “I have not suffered, as so many have, by the war. It did not sweep - over my land, but gave it a rather wide berth. - - “My negroes have remained with me at fair wages, but whether they do - fair work is something else. - - “I have an overseer to look after the negroes, but, my boy, I require - some one to look after the overseer. Will you come? - - “As breaking up and traveling is always expensive, and as I do not - know your financial condition, I inclose a check for five hundred - dollars, merely as an advance to my heir. Give my love to your wife. - Let me hear from you as soon as possible, and believe me, my dear - Cleve, now and ever, your affectionate grand-uncle, - - “JOHN CLEVE.” - -“Thank God!” fervently ejaculated Stuart. - -“But where is the check?” curiously inquired Palma. - -Stuart opened the leaves of the letter again, then his face fell and he -murmured: - -“My uncle must have forgotten to put it in!” - -“No,” said Palma, “here it is!” And she picked it up from the carpet, to -which it had slipped. - -“Thank God!” said Stuart again. - -“Why, I am glad, very glad, that you have heard from your uncle. But -you, Cleve! I have never in all my life seen you so strongly moved. What -is it all about?” exclaimed Palma, amazed at his extreme agitation. - -“My darling, when this providential letter came we were on the brink of -ruin!” he answered, telling her the truth at last. - -“‘Ruin!’ You! Cleve Stuart!” - -“Yes, my beloved.” - -“But your vast wealth?” - -“A fond imagination of yours.” - -“And your rich Mississippi plantation?” - -“A blasted wilderness.” - -“Oh, Cleve! Cleve! How have we lived?” - -“By the gradual disposal of all my useless effects.” - -“Oh, Cleve! Cleve!” - -“The last dime was spent on Saturday, dear, and this morning I looked -for nothing else but a distrain for rent and ejection from these -premises.” - -“And you never told me! You never told me!” - -“Why should I have distressed you, dear one?” - -“Oh, I could have worked, Cleve. But I didn’t know! I didn’t know! I -thought you were rich. And I thought, sometimes, that you were too -prudent, too saving, especially when you did not get a dress coat to go -to Ran’s wedding. And all the time you were poor, and struggling on the -very brink of ruin! Oh, Cleve!” - -“Never mind, dear heart, we are ready for the landlord, or for any other -demand. Tell me, darling, shall you like to go to this mountain -farmhouse in West Virginia, and keep house for the old man, and be -mistress, doctress, teacher and everything, to his horde of darkies?” - -“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes—a thousand times, yes! I shall be delighted, -Cleve!” - -“Very well, then. As it all depended upon you, I will answer the old -man’s letter and accept his offer; then go out and change this check.” - -“No, no; first of all, dear Cleve,” said Palma, gravely, “let us kneel -and return thanks to our Heavenly Father that we are saved.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - SAFE AT HOME - - -We left Jennie Montgomery sleeping in her mother’s arms, with her babe -safe beside them. - -Jennie would have talked all night till broad daylight; but her mother, -knowing how tired the young traveler must be, discouraged all -conversation by pretending to be sleepy, by replying only in -monosyllables, or even answering at random, until at length the talker -herself gave up in despair, grew tired, then stupid, and then fell fast -asleep. - -The consequence of her exhausted strength and her long vigil was that -she slept long and deeply and late into the next morning. - -When at last she awoke she found herself alone in the room, with the -morning sunlight stealing through the slats of the window shutters, and -gilding bright lines on the white window curtains and on the light gray -ground of the carpet and the light gray color of the walls. She saw all -this through the festooned white curtains at the foot of her bed. She -raised herself up, and then she saw something through the same opening—a -bright little coal fire burning in the grate. - -Her mother was gone and her baby was gone. Evidently Jennie had slept so -soundly that she had not heard their uprising and departure, and she had -continued to sleep on until she knew not what hour of the day. - -She thought she would get up and dress herself quietly before any one -should discover that she was awake. - -She slipped out of bed, and the first thing that she saw was her large -sea trunk, that had been packed with undiscovered treasure of clothing -by the benevolent women who had taken such a warm interest in her -welfare, and who had given her an outfit as well as a first-class -passage home. - -The key of her trunk was in her _portemonnaie_, in the pocket of her -traveling dress. She got it out, unstrapped and unlocked the treasure -chest, and lifted the lid. - -But just then she heard the voice of her baby crowing loudly in response -to another cooing voice that she recognized as her mother’s. - -They were having a grand circus together in the parlor, that young -grandmother and the baby. - -Jennie snatched up the first garment fitting to wear from the top of the -trunk, and then dropped the lid and hastily washed and dressed herself, -putting on a pretty blue cashmere princess wrapper, trimmed with blue -satin ribbons. Then, while still buttoning up, she hastily opened the -dividing door and entered the parlor. - -Her mother was there, sitting in a low rocker, holding the baby across -her lap. Beside her, on the hob of the grate, stood the bowl of “infant -food” from which she had been feeding the child. - -There was no one else in the room, nor did there need to be to make it -very lively there, for the baby was crowing with all the strength of her -lungs, while laughing up in the pretty, smiling face, with the cooing -voice, bending over her. - -“Oh, mamma, darling! why didn’t you wake me?” exclaimed Jennie, coming -up before Mrs. Campbell perceived her presence in the room. - -“Why, Jennie! Up and dressed, my pet? Why didn’t you ring for some one -to help you?” inquired the mother in her turn. - -“You haven’t answered my question yet, and told me why you did not wake -me when you got up and dressed baby,” said Jennie as she stooped and -kissed her mother and the child. - -“I was so well satisfied to see you sleeping off your fatigue that I -would not have disturbed you for a great deal,” said Mrs. Campbell, -returning her daughter’s caress. - -“Well, now, the reason I didn’t ring for any one was because I didn’t -want any one. And when I heard you and baby in such earnest -conversation, I hurried with my dressing and came in. I thought baby -would be hungry.” - -“She was hungry; but I sent to the chemist and got this ‘infant food’ -for her.” - -“Oh! she never was fed with that before!” exclaimed Jennie, in some -doubt of its good effects. - -“Don’t be afraid, my dear. It is used in all the royal nurseries. See, -the royal arms are on the label,” said the lady. - -“Of course, mamma, darling, if you give it, it is all right. I think -your judgment quite as good as that of all the royal family put -together.” - -“Tut! tut! my pet! Your visit to America must have turned you into a -republican. But what a lovely wrapper you have got on, Jennie!” she -said, perhaps to turn the conversation. - -“Is it not? And I have got another one just like it in mauve, which has -never been on my back, and which you must have, dear mamma. Those angel -women in New York have given me that huge trunk full of beautiful -clothing, and I shall never wear one-half of it out, but my greatest -pleasure in it will be to divide it with you, my dear, darling, -beautiful mamma.” - -“Oh, Jennie!” was all the curate’s wife found to say to that, for she -did not mean to take any of her daughter’s pretty clothes, if she could -help it, nor did she want to vex the girl by refusing them just then. - -“Where is papa?” inquired Jennie. - -“Gone out to make some sick calls; he will be home by noon. But here I -am chatting away and forgetting that you have had no breakfast. We -breakfasted two hours ago!” laughed Mrs. Campbell as she put her hand -out to the bell rope and rang. - -Elspeth Longman came in, smiled and nodded. - -“Good-morning, ma’am,” to Jennie, and then went to work to lay the cloth -for her breakfast. It was soon spread upon the table—good coffee, rich -cream, muffins, fresh butter, grilled ham and poached eggs. - -Mrs. Campbell gave the baby to Elspeth and sat down to pour out the -coffee for her prodigal daughter. - -“Ah, mamma! You remember our old feeling, yours and mine, that a draught -poured out by beloved hands has the power of life-giving to the spirit -as well as to the body,” said Jennie as she received the cup from her -mother. - -“And the same may be said of work gifts, my dear. Your little Shetland -veil that you knit for me years ago, always seemed full as it could hold -of your dear love, and its touch on my face like your caress,” replied -Mrs. Campbell. - -While they sat at table Elspeth Longman stood at one of the windows with -the baby in her arms, tapping on the panes to make the child look out on -the blue sky and the evergreen trees. - -“I shall stop calling baby ‘Baby’ now, mamma. She is going to be named -after you—Esther. It is too grown up a name to call a little baby in -common. And we can’t call her Hetty, because that is your pet name. Now -what shall we call her for short?” - -“Essy,” replied the young grandmother. - -“Essy, then, it shall be. Mind, Mrs. Longman. Our baby is to the -christened Esther, after mamma, and we are to call her Essy for short.” - -“Very well, ma’am; it is a pretty name,” said the woman at the window. - -“And we will have her christened on Sunday, mamma. We must wait for -Sunday, because I remember papa’s preference for christening babies on -Sunday, unless there should be some pressing necessity to perform the -ceremony on a week day.” - -“There’s grandpa!” exclaimed Elspeth to the baby, tapping on the window. -And the next instant, the Rev. James Campbell—otherwise familiarly and -affectionately in his own family called “Jimmy”—entered the house and -walked into the room. - -He kissed his daughter good-morning, and then took his stand on the rug, -with his back to the fire, looking so grave that his wife grew anxious, -but forbore to question him in the presence of their newly returned -daughter. - -“And perhaps, after all,” she reflected, “it is nothing very personal. -He may have just returned from the deathbed of a parishioner. Such -scenes always affect him, more for the sake of those left behind than -for the departed, for he has too much faith to fret after the freed -soul.” - -While Mrs. Campbell was turning these thoughts over in her mind, and Mr. -Campbell was standing in silence on the rug, Jennie finished her -breakfast and arose and took her crowing baby from the arms of Elspeth, -that the latter might clear off the table. - -When this was done, and the woman had left the room, and Jennie had put -her baby to sleep in the pretty berceaunette that had been provided by -her mother that very morning, and the father, mother and daughter were -seated around the fire, both these women with needlework in their hands, -the curate said: - -“Now, my dear, if you will, you may give us the explanation you -promised. Hetty!” he said, suddenly turning to his wife, “did she tell -you anything last night?” - -“Not a word. I would not let her talk. I made her go to sleep.” - -“That was right. Well, we know from her letter that she, daughter of a -minister of the church of England, though a very humble one, and the -wife of an ex-officer in her majesty’s service, though a most unworthy -one—that she, a lady by birth and by marriage, was brought to such -extremity as to be confined in the pauper ward of a public hospital, and -to depend on private charity for her outfit and passage home to us.” - -“Thanks be to the Lord that we have her and her child safe and sound in -mind and body, however they came to us!” fervently exclaimed Hetty -Campbell. - -“I say we know all this from our child’s letter. But we do not know why -all this should have happened in this way; nor why she never mentioned -her husband’s name in her letter; nor why she comes to us with her child -alone; nor why, when I asked her for an explanation, she replied to me -that the kindest act he ever did for her was—to leave her.” - -“Oh, my Jennie! Oh, my dear Jennie!” exclaimed Hetty in a tone of pain. - -“Yes, mamma; it is true. The kindest thing he ever did for me was to -leave me. I am not heartbroken over it. I have nothing, not the least -thing, to reproach myself with in all my conduct toward him. Mamma, when -I made Capt. Kightly Montgomery’s acquaintance I - - “‘Foregathered wi’ the de’il.’” - -“Oh, Jennie—my daughter!” - -“This is hard fact, mamma, as you will know when you have heard the -story I am going to tell you. Is there any danger of any one coming in?” - -“No, dear. There is no one in the house besides ourselves except -Elspeth, and as this is baking day she is very busy in the kitchen, and -will not come in here unless she should be called,” said Hetty. -Nevertheless, she got up and turned the keys in both doors. - -“Now, then, my dear,” she said as she resumed her seat. - -“It is a long story, and a painful one; yet, for every reason, I feel -that I must tell you the whole of it without reservation, because I -shall have to seek your counsel and be guided by it as to my future -course,” said Jennie, turning to her father. - -“Yes; tell every word you know,” replied Jimmy. - -Then Jennie told the whole horrible story—of her secret marriage—of -which her parents had heard before—of the many devices by which her -husband had kept her away from her parents, even after they had received -her penitent letter, and forgiven her, and invited her and her -bridegroom to visit them; of their wanderings through Europe, stopping -at the great gambling centers; of his abandonment of her; or her pursuit -of him over land and sea; of their meeting at night in the streets of -New York, just when he was on the eve of marriage with another woman; of -his fright at her appearance, his instant repudiation of her, and their -bitter altercation, which ended in his stabbing her and leaving her for -dead on the sidewalk of the deserted street, - - “In the dead waste and middle of the night.” - -At this point of the story Mrs. Campbell screamed and flung her hands up -to her eyes as if to shut out the horrible vision her imagination had -conjured up from the words of Jennie. - -Then there followed a pause in the narrative until Hetty had recovered -herself. Meanwhile the curate sat in grim silence, like a man who -resolves but does not mean to speak. - -It was Jennie who broke the spell. - -“That is the very worst, mamma. I have nothing to tell worse than -this—no, nor half as bad—and you see that it did not kill me. And now -what I have to tell you is mostly a pleasant experience; for when I -recovered consciousness, which was after many hours, I found myself on a -nice, white bed in a pleasant room, with the sweetest, kindest woman’s -face, like an angel’s face, bending over me, and my new-born baby lying -beside me. Yes; my wound had been in the flesh of my left breast, -shocking me into a swoon, but not fatal—as he had supposed it to be—and -not even dangerous. Under some anæsthetic—I suppose, though I do not -know—my wound had been dressed, and my baby born, and I awoke in such a -heaven of peace and good will, with my precious baby by my side, and -with angels of mercy all about me, that, mamma, every vestige of anger -against my husband for all his wrongs to me vanished from my bosom; -although there remained a shrinking from the thought of ever meeting him -again, and a horror of him that I feel can never be overcome in this -life. As soon as I was well enough to bear the ordeal I was questioned -as to my assailant; but I would not tell who he was. The police searched -my room on Vevay Street, and found his miniature; but it happened to be -the one which had been taken when he was in the army, in his regimental -uniform, and with his military mustache, and it bore his monogram, K. M. -They brought it to me, but I would have nothing to say to it; nor was it -available to trace Montgomery, for he now wore a citizen’s dress, had -grown a full, long beard, and he bore another name—a name supported by -documentary and direct evidence—a name which it will surprise you to -hear—but let that pass for the present.” - -“Why not tell us now?” - -“Wait, mamma, dear. I am following the narrative as the facts came to my -knowledge. The miniature was photographed and distributed to aid in the -identification and arrest of the suspected party. It did not lead to -Montgomery’s arrest, but to that of an unlucky gentleman who bore some -resemblance to the photograph, especially in the matter of the martial -mustache. This hapless person was brought before me for identification. -The likeness struck even me at first, and startled me into a -compromising exclamation; but a second glance assured me that I had -never seen the man before in my life; and I told them so. They did not -believe me. And afterward it took the evidence of several substantial -citizens to convince the magistrate before whom he was brought that the -accused man was quite a distinct individual from Capt. Kightly -Montgomery, my supposed assailant. I say my supposed assailant, dear -mamma; for they could not know him for such, since I would not give him -up to justice; for I wish him no harm, though I never want to see him in -this world.” - -“Never!” breathed Hetty with all a mother’s intense sympathy. - -“I told you in my letter of the great goodness of those angel women in -New York to me, and how, as soon as I was able to leave the hospital, -one of them, dear Mrs. Duncan, took me home to her own house, where she -cared for me and my baby as—as you do, sweet mamma.” - -“God bless them!” exclaimed Hetty. - -“I stayed with her while the ladies were preparing my outfit, and until -I took passage on the _Scorpio_.” - -“And you saw no more of that——” - -The conscientious minister hesitated at a word that any other man, under -the circumstances, would have pronounced with vim. - -Jennie understood him, and answered promptly. - -“No, dear papa. I saw no more of him until I was eight days out at sea. -Then we came face to face on deck.” - -“‘Face to face on deck!’” exclaimed Hetty in dismay. - -“‘Face to face on deck!’ Then he was actually coming over on the same -ship with yourself?” said the curate, losing much of his self-control. - -“Yes, papa. Yes, mamma. He was coming over on the same ship with myself. -Coming over under his new name, with his new, deceived bride. They had -been married with the greatest _éclat_ in one of the most wealthy and -fashionable houses in New York. And they were on their wedding tour.” - -Then Jennie gave a detailed account of the meeting between the recreant -husband and the wronged wife on board the _Scorpio_. She described his -fright, awe, horror on meeting one whom he believed to be in a pauper’s -grave in potter’s field, with the stigma of suicide on her name, and -then his slow acceptance of the fact that it was herself in the body, -and not an optical illusion created by _delirium tremens_, that was -there before him. - -“I had not dreamed of meeting him there, or anywhere else on earth,” -said Jennie; “but when I saw him before me, so unexpectedly, I was -calmer than he was. I bade him leave me and avoid me, and told him that -I should not trouble him while we were, unfortunately, on the ship -together, but that I should tell you my whole story and take your advice -as to my future course.” - -“You did wisely so far,” said the curate. - -“Then I told him you were to meet me at Liverpool.” - -“Well?” - -“He had taken tickets for Liverpool, but he got off, with his party, at -Queenstown.” - -“Ah!” breathed the curate, “that was prudently done. But now, my child, -tell me the alias under which this man is now traveling, and which you -said would surprise us very much?” - -“Dear papa, first of all, will you please to tell me how much you -learned of Kightly Montgomery’s true history when you undertook to -investigate the antecedents of the young officer who had run off with -your daughter?” - -“Yes, my dear. There was no mystery about him. I went to the colonel of -his regiment, and learned that he was the son of the late General the -Honorable Arthur Montgomery, who was so distinguished in the Indian war, -the grandson of the late and the nephew of the present Earl of -Engelmeed, and a disgrace to his ancestry and relatives; and that he had -held a commission in the—Regiment of Foot, but had been court-martialed -and dismissed the service for ‘conduct unworthy of an officer and a -gentleman.’” - -“And you are sure that he is really Kightly Montgomery—that that is his -real name?” - -“As sure as that James Campbell is my own,” said the curate. “And now, -will you tell me what name he passed under in America, and why he -dropped his own?” - -“Yes, papa; the name under which he passed in New York; the name under -which he claims the richest estate in Yorkshire; the name under which he -married Miss Lamia Leegh, of New York; the name under which he sailed in -the _Scorpio_ for Liverpool, is——” - -“Yes? Well?” - -“Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore!” - -“Great Heaven, Jennie!” - -“Good Lord, Jennie!” - -These exclamations burst simultaneously from the lips of Jimmy and -Hetty. - -“Yes, mamma! Yes, papa! It is true as truth. Your landlord and patron, -the new Squire of Haymore, for whose home-coming with his bride all -these gorgeous preparations have been made, is no other than my husband, -your son-in-law, ex-captain of Foot, Kightly Montgomery, who -metaphorically fled from before your face by landing at Queenstown, to -avoid meeting you at Liverpool.” - -“Oh, Hetty! Hetty!” said the curate, appealing to his wife, “what is -this world coming to?” - -“To judgment one of these days, Jimmy, according to your own preaching! -‘Reck your own read,’ Jimmy. And take comfort, as I do, that whatever -has been, or is, or is to be, we have our darling daughter and her babe -safe at home!” paid Hetty, closing her arm around Jennie’s waist and -squeezing her fondly. - -“And what a complication! The scoundrel—Heaven forgive me, the word -slipped out!—the man slunk off the steamer at Queenstown for fear of -meeting me at Liverpool, and now he is walking unaware into my very -arms!” - -“And I don’t believe that your arms will fold him in a very fond -embrace!” exclaimed Hetty. - -“If they had but the strength I fear it would be in the grizzly bear’s -hug, or the boa constrictor’s crush!” exclaimed the curate, gasping. - -“But the mad audacity of his coming here, where you are! I don’t -understand it,” said Hetty. - -“My dear, he does not dream that I am here! How should he? He thinks -that we are all at Medge, on the south coast, with the length of England -between us and Haymore!” - -“So! I forgot that! What shall you do, Jimmy?” - -“Nothing at present; but wait for his coming; then I will confront him -and expose him to the lady he has deceived and feloniously married. -Meanwhile, Hetty and Jennie, my dears, breathe not a word of this secret -to any one, whoever he or she may be. The effrontery of the man in -calling himself Randolph Hay, and claiming the Haymore estates, is -nothing less than insanity! And the credulity of lawyers in allowing his -claim is past belief!” - -“Oh, but, my dear father, he had piles and piles of documents, and no -end of direct testimony besides! I heard all about Mr. Randolph Hay’s -appearance and claim to the Haymore estates, and his engagement to Miss -Leegh from Mrs. Duncan, before I ever discovered that the claimant and -bridegroom-elect were identical with my own recreant husband.” - -“Forged or stolen documents, Jennie. And suborned and perjured -witnesses! That is the story of his claim, Jennie. But breathe not a -word to any one of this affair! Let the tenants and the villagers go on -with their preparations for a grand fête. Let Capt. Kightly Montgomery -and his bride come on in triumph to enjoy it! The higher the flight the -heavier the fall for him.” - -“But the poor lady! She was one of those who helped me, papa.” - -“I am sorry for her! But, even for her sake, the man should be exposed -and punished. She must not live with him in sin!” said the curate. Then, -after a pause, “I cannot comprehend how he dares to come to England! One -would think that he would be afraid of being recognized. It is true that -he believes this family to be on the south coast. True, also, that he -knows the regiment to which he lately belonged to be in India, so that -there is no danger of his meeting with any of his late fellow officers, -but still it is always possible that he may be recognized and exposed.” - -“Oh, papa, you do not know what a change the full beard, and a -difference in the parting of his hair, has made in him,” said Jennie. - -“And, besides, did we not hear that the new squire does not intend to -reside in England for some years to come? Did not some one say that he -was only coming here to make a sort of triumphal entry upon his paternal -land, and then, after liberally treating all his tenants and the -villagers, he was to leave on extended travels?” - -“Oh, yes! yes! I believe we did hear something of the sort. I suppose -the fellow thinks he can safely come here with his bride to gratify his -pride and vanity, by exhibiting her and himself in a triumphal entry, -after the manner of royal personages! I dare say he thinks himself -secure in doing that. But he does not know the Nemesis that is waiting -for him! He does not dream that he will exchange triumph for shame, -luxury for torture, and Haymore Hall and fox-hunting for Portsmouth Isle -and penal servitude!” exclaimed the curate. - -Then rising, he said: - -“I must go and write my sermon. And this has given me some new ideas for -it.” - -And when he left the room Hetty and Jennie both knew that the sermon in -question would be likely to deal more with the terrors of the law than -with the mercies of the Lord. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - COMING EVENTS - - -The autumn days passed calmly at the parsonage of Haymore. The curate -had his own care, but he kept it to himself. On that morning succeeding -Jennie’s arrival, when Hetty had observed traces of unusual disturbance -on the brow of her Jimmy and had ascribed it to the effect of some -distressing deathbed scene of some parishioner and therefore had -forborne to question him, the cause of the curate’s uneasiness was just -this: He had, by that morning’s mail, received a letter from his rector -at Cannes, speaking hopelessly of his own illness and predicting an -early and fatal issue. - -James Campbell would not disturb his wife and daughter with this news, -though it troubled him deeply and for more reasons than one. - -In the first place, he felt a warm affection for the venerable rector -who had been his father’s classmate at Oxford, and who had remembered -him when he could do him a service and put him into his present -position. - -In the second place, should the rector die soon, his successor would be -appointed by the Squire of Haymore and would naturally dismiss him, -James Campbell, from his curacy. And he and his family would have to go -forth in the world, homeless, moneyless and almost friendless, in -midwinter. What prospect lay before the three but destitution and -indebtedness—practically, first, to go into the cheapest lodgings they -could find; then to go into debt for their daily food as long as he -might be able to get credit. - -And after that—what? - -He did not know. - -Of course, he would try to get work again—another curacy, or a -tutorship, or a secretaryship. But Jimmy knew by all his past experience -and observation how difficult, how almost impossible it was for a man in -his position, once out of employment, ever to get in again. If he could -only know who was to be the successor of his dying rector, he might, at -a proper time, try to gain his favor to be made his curate. - -Well—he thought—“while he preacheth to others he must not himself be a -castaway.” As Hetty had told him, he must “reck his own read.” He must -do the best he could and leave the result to divine Providence. If he -could only hold his present position. What a commodious house he had for -his dear ones! What an affluent garden! What a spacious glebe! What a -lovely home, taken altogether! What a paradisal one for his family! If -he could only retain it by any amount of work—by doing double duty, -tenfold duty in the parish! He would not shrink from any labor, any -hardship, to retain this refuge for his beloved ones, he thought. Then -his conscience reproached him—he was thinking too much of his own, too -little of his parish; and besides, the idea of remaining in this sweet -home was but a dream, for if even the successor of his dying rector -should favor him so far as to retain him in the curacy, he could not -continue to reside in the rectory—where, of course, the new rector would -take up his abode—but would have to find a small house in the village -suitable to his small salary as a curate. But even this last favor was -highly improbable. The new rector would have some young clerical friend -whom he would take as his curate. They always did, he remembered. - -“Is there much sickness or suffering in the parish, Jimmy?” Hetty asked -one day when they happened to be alone in the parlor together, Jennie -being in her bedroom with her baby, and Elspeth in the kitchen over her -cooking. - -“Sickness? Why, no! Why do you ask?” inquired the curate. - -“Is there any distress, then?” - -“Why, no! They are all unusually well just now, and very hilarious over -the prospect of the arrival of their new squire and his bride and all -the high jinks of their reception. Why did you ask such questions, -Hetty?” - -“Because, Jimmy, you always look as solemn as a hearse!” - -“Do I? Well, in view of coming events, I cannot be expected to look very -merry, can I, Hetty?” he inquired, rather evasively. - -“You refer to the expected arrival of the fraudulent claimant and -bigamous husband, and your duty to strike him down, - - “‘Even in his pitch of pride.’ - -But I don’t see why that should make you look so solemn. And Jennie -home, too! And the dear baby! Oh, Jimmy, if you cannot appreciate the -blessings around you and be grateful and happy in the midst of them, the -Lord help you! though He certainly has a discouraging job of you, just -now!” - -“I preach to my people and weary them, no doubt. You preach to me -and—avenge them!” laughed the Reverend James. - -“Well, I am glad to see you laugh, even if it is at my expense,” said -Hetty. - -“What are you two quarreling about?” inquired Jennie, who had put her -baby to sleep and now entered the parlor. - -“As to which is the best preacher, your mother of myself,” answered the -curate. - -“Oh, mamma! out and out! I have often wished I could hear her in the -pulpit!” laughed Jennie. - -“That settles it! Hetty, you have gained the point!” said the Rev. -James, as he strolled out of the parlor into his study. - -His wife’s words had not been without their effect. He was just now -surrounded with such bright blessings, living in such an atmosphere of -love, peace, health, comfort, and happiness that nothing could be added -to their blessedness; yet their very perfection troubled him, lest they -should not be permanent. He could not enjoy this blessed time, because -next month or next year might bring a change which might be for the -worse. - -Why, what base thanklessness and faithlessness was this! While he -“preached to others” he was himself “a castaway.” - -But he resolved that he would reform all this. He would take no anxious -care for the future. He would do the best he could and leave the rest to -the Lord. - -From that day he presented a more cheerful aspect to his family. - -The leading parishioners began to call on his daughter. - -Partly from hearsay and partly from inference, they had got a mixed -opinion about the status of the young woman. She was the wife—so they -Lad heard—of one Capt. Kightly Montgomery, son of the late General the -Honorable Arthur Montgomery, and grandson of the late and nephew of the -present Earl of Engelwing; that the captain was now, of course, with his -regiment in India, and that his young wife had come home with her infant -on a long visit to her father, because the climate of India was so fatal -to young children of European parentage. - -Under these mingled impressions of truth and error they called to pay -their respects to their pastor’s daughter. - -From the village there came Mrs. and the Misses Leach, the doctor’s wife -and daughters; Mrs. Drum, the lawyer’s mother, and the Misses Lesmore, -the draper’s sisters, and several widows and maidens living on their -annuities. From the country came Lady Nutt, of Nuttwood, the widow of a -civil engineer who had been knighted for some special merit by the -queen; the three Misses Frobisher, “ladies of a certain age,” -co-heiresses of Frobisher Frowns, a queer and gloomy mansion on the -moor, which stood against a bank crowned with dark evergreen trees that -bent over the roof of the house, like towering brows on a human -face—thence I suppose the quaint if not forbidding name. - -These were all. Others of the county gentry belonging to that -neighborhood were absentees. - -Jennie as well as her mother was much pleased with the hearty, homely, -cordial manners of these Yorkshire country people. But the better she -liked the more she dreaded them! - -“Oh, mamma!” she said, “I fear they cannot know my real position here! -They cannot know that I am a forsaken wife! Why, yesterday old Lady Nutt -patted my head and said: - -“‘I can feel for you, my dear. I had a niece in the H. E. I. C.’s -service, and she had to come home with her young children and leave them -here with their grandmother while she went back to him. Do you intend to -stay here with your child, or leave it here with your parents and join -the captain in India?’ - -“Yes, mamma, in all innocence the dear old lady asked me that question! -And my cheeks burned like fire as I answered her the truth and said, ‘I -intend to stay here with my baby, my lady.’ She said, ‘That is right,’ -and kissed me and went away before you came in.” - -“She is a good old soul,” was Hetty’s only comment. - -“Yes, mamma, but you have missed the point I wished to make. It is so -embarrassing to have people call on me and make remarks that I must -either correct by telling them plainly how I am situated, or else that I -must pass unnoticed, as if they were true, and so, as it were, silently -indorse a false view.” - -“My dear, I don’t see how you can help yourself. You cannot blow a -trumpet before you proclaiming to all and sundry the wickedness of your -husband in deserting you, his lawful wife, and marrying, feloniously, -another woman! You cannot even tell that to your visitors in confidence. -It would not become you to do so.” - -“No, mamma, dear, I cannot; but some day some visitor will innocently -ask me some straightforward, plain question, which will require an -answer, involving a confession of my real position. Oh! what shall I do -in such a case?” - -“My dear child, wait until that day comes and that question is asked. -That will be time enough to worry about it. Jennie! the secret of peace -is the practice of faith. Do your present duty, bear your present -burden, enjoy your present blessings, and leave the future to the Lord. -You have nothing to do with it. For you it has not even an existence,” -said Hetty. - -Early in December news came in a letter from Mr. Randolph Hay, in Paris, -to his bailiff, Mr. John Prowt, announcing the return of the squire, -with his wife and a party of friends, to spend the Christmas holidays at -the Hall. The house was to be made ready for them by the fifteenth of -the month. - -Again all the estate, all the village and all the surrounding country -were agog with anticipations of the free festivities that should glorify -the triumphal entry of the new squire upon his paternal estate. - -Every one who came to call at the rectory talked of nothing but the -expected event. - -On the next Sunday morning the Rev. Mr. Campbell preached an awful -warning from the text: - -“Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” - -And in the afternoon he preached a similar jeremiad from another text: - -“I have seen the wicked in great power, and spreading himself like a -green bay tree. - -“Yet he passed away, and lo! he was not; yea, I sought him, but he could -not be found.” - -In the course of the week there came dire news to the parish. A telegram -from his attendant physician in Cannes announced to Mr. Campbell the -death of his rector, the Rev. Dr. Orton, and added that his body would -be brought to the rectory to be interred under the chancel of the -Haymore church. - -The Rev. James Campbell had been prepared for this blow for many weeks, -or at least he thought he had been so; yet when it fell it nearly -overwhelmed him. He was grieved for the loss of his friend and he was -perplexed for his household. At first he did not know what to do at all. -He was not a man of resources. Should he immediately vacate the rectory -with his family, and go to the village tavern, horrid, beery place, with -a bar and taproom, or should he seek lodgings in the village, dreadful, -little, stuffy rooms, in such a place, or should he remain at the -rectory until the arrival of the family with the remains of the -deceased? - -At the church he must remain, of course; but at the rectory when the -family of the late rector were returning with his remains. - -The family of the late rector, by the way, consisted of an aged widow -and a maiden daughter, both of whom were with him at Cannes, and two -unmarried sons, one a professor at Oxford, and the other a popular -preacher in London. The curate consulted his wife. - -“Telegraph the widow and know her will before you take any step,” was -Hetty’s advice, and Jimmy acted upon it. - -In a few hours came a courteous answer from Miss Orton, saying, in -effect, that Mr. Campbell was by no means to disturb himself or his -family. That the delicate condition of the widow’s health must prevent -her from leaving a sunny climate for a frosty one at this severe season; -that the daughter would stay with her mother; that the remains of the -deceased rector would be accompanied by his two sons, and taken directly -from the train to the chancel of the church, where the second funeral -services would be held on Friday, at 4 P. M. (the first having been held -at Cannes), immediately after which the sons would leave for London and -Oxford. So the curate’s family need not be disturbed in the rectory -until the appointment of the new rector. - -“‘Until the appointment of the new rector!’ How long reprieve would that -be?” inquired the curate. And then he blamed himself for his selfishness -in thinking so much of his own and his family’s interests, when he -should be thinking only of his departed friend. - -On Friday morning the parish church at Haymore was decked in solemn -funeral array to receive the remains of its rector. The pulpit, altar -and chancel were draped with crape. Places of business and schools were -all closed for the day, and all the parishioners filled the church, many -in deep mourning, and all the others with some badge of mourning on -their dresses. - -The wife and daughter of the curate sat in the rectory pew. There, -later, they were joined by the two sons of the deceased rector. - -The curate, in full vestments, waited the arrival of the casket, and, -book in hand, went to meet it at the church door, through which, upon a -bier of ebony, covered with a pall of black velvet, it was borne by six -bearers, and marshaled it up the aisle and before the chancel, repeating -the sublime words of our Lord: - -“I am the resurrection and the life. He that liveth and believeth on me -shall never die. And he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet -shall he live.” - -When the bier, with the casket, was set down before the altar, and the -chief mourners—the two sons of the deceased, who had followed it—had -taken their seats in the rectory pew, then the funeral services, -conducted by the curate, went on to their solemn ending. - -At the close the parishoniers came out of their pews in an orderly -manner, and passing on from the right to the left before the casket, -took their last look at the mask of their deceased pastor. - -At last the door of the crypt below the chancel was opened, and the -pallbearers bore the casket down the narrow stairs and laid it in the -leaden coffin and lifted it to the stone niche prepared to receive it. - -Then the “dust to dust” was spoken, and the minister came up again, went -to the altar, pronounced the benediction, and so dismissed the -congregation. - -As the two sons of the late rector came out of their pew they met and -shook hands with the curate, but declined his invitation to the rectory, -saying that they were about to return immediately to Cannes, to remain -with their widowed mother for the few days in which they would absent -themselves from their professional duties. - -So they took leave of the curate and his wife and daughter, entered a -carriage that was waiting, and drove off to their train. - -The curate, leaving his parishioners talking together in groups in the -churchyard, while the sexton was closing up the church, followed his -wife and daughter through the gate in the wall that divided that -cemetery from the rectory grounds. - -He went directly to his study to compose himself before joining his wife -and daughter in the parlor. - -But what he found there did not tend to his composure. A letter, with a -Paris postmark, was lying on the table. He dropped into a chair and took -it. At first he thought it must be from Kightly Montgomery, whom he knew -to be flourishing in Paris under the name of Randolph Hay; but a -moment’s reflection assured him that the false claimant was not likely -to know of the accident of James Campbell’s temporary charge of the -Haymore parish. - -He opened the letter, glanced at the signature, and saw that it was not -a stranger’s, and then read as follows: - - “PARIS, December 13, 187—. - - “REVEREND AND DEAR SIR: I learned with extreme grief a few days ago of - the lamented death of the late honored rector of Haymore. I - immediately came over to the city to see my brother-in-law, Mr. Hay, - and apply to him for the living which is in his gift. He has been - pleased to bestow it on me. My induction will date from the first of - January next. I do not wish to inconvenience you, but I should be - obliged if you could vacate the rectory in time to have the house - prepared for my reception. Mr. Randolph Hay and his wife will be going - to Haymore Hall for the Christmas holidays with a party of friends, of - which, at his invitation, I have the happiness to make one. We shall, - therefore, soon meet at Haymore. With best respects to Mrs. Campbell, - I remain, dear sir, very truly yours, - - “CASSIUS LEEGH.” - -“Oh, my beloved helpless ones! What will become of you now?” moaned the -curate, covering his eyes. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - THE CURATE’S TROUBLE - - -After brooding over this disastrous letter for a long hour the curate -summoned enough courage to arise and go to his wife and take counsel -with her. - -This was, indeed, a trouble that he dared not keep from her, even to -spare her from anxiety; for it was absolutely necessary that they should -take immediate measures for removal from the rectory and settlement in -lodgings somewhere in the town before the arrival of the new incumbent; -or, so at least it seemed to the curate in his dismayed state of mind. - -He went directly into the back parlor, where the fire was burning -cheerfully in the grate, the tea table was set, and Hetty resting in her -low rocking-chair on the rug. - -“Where is Jennie?” inquired the curate, dropping into another chair -beside his wife. - -“In her bedroom, putting her baby to sleep,” replied Hetty. - -“Well, I am glad the child is not here just now. I have bad news to tell -you, my dear.” - -“Eh? Bad news? What is it, Jimmy? But, dear me, don’t look so dreadfully -cast down! It cannot be such awfully bad news, since you, I, Jennie and -the baby are all safe and sound in the house. But what, then, is your -bad news?” - -“I have lost my position here, and we shall have to leave the rectory,” -replied Mr. Campbell in a tone of despair. - -“Let me take a look at you?” said his wife, rising, giving him her hand, -helping him to his feet, and surveying him all around. “Well, I don’t -see that you have lost a limb, or any mental or bodily faculty, that you -need look so woebegone! As for losing your position, of course you lost -that when the old rector died; and as for leaving the rectory, we all -knew that we should have to do that.” - -“Yes, but not so soon. We shall have to vacate by the first of January.” - -“Well, that gives us plenty of time to choose new lodgings. I would not -‘fash my beard’ about that, if I were you, Jimmy! But why must we move -by that time?” - -“Because my successor, or rather Dr. Orton’s successor, is appointed.” - -“Already!” - -“Yes, already.” - -“Upon my word, there has been but little time lost! And you have -received notice to quit?” - -“Yes, in a letter from the new incumbent, which I found lying on my -study table when I came in from the church.” - -“Who is he, then?” - -“‘Who is he?’ That is the very worst of all. Do you remember that -fellow, Cassius Leegh, who used to come to Medge parsonage long ago and -fasten on us for weeks?” - -“I should think so!” - -“He was the son of a small shopkeeper in the borough, London, studied -for the ministry as a matter of pride and ambition; but, morally and -spiritually, as unfit for the pulpit as a man can well be! I do not know -how he has contrived to get himself inducted into this living, except -upon the basis that he and the new squire are birds of a feather!” - -“Stop!” exclaimed Hetty as a sudden light dawned on her mind—“I -understand it all perfectly now! Don’t you know that this man, this -so-called new squire of Haymore, married in New York a young lady by the -name of Leegh?” - -“I paid no attention to the name of the lady,” replied the curate. - -“Well, naturally I did, being a woman, you know. And the bride’s name -was Leegh! And surely you have heard Cassius Leegh speak of his -beautiful sister Lamia, who was taken up by a wealthy New York family?” - -“Why—yes—certainly!” - -“That is it, then. This man Leegh, no doubt, sought out his -brother-in-law and put in his plea for the living, even before Dr. Orton -was dead, and so he has secured it, and lost no time in warning you out. -But I wonder if he happened to mention your name to the ‘squire,’ for if -so, the said squire, finding out that you were here, would scarcely -venture to set foot within the place until you should be gone.” - -“No,” said Mr. Campbell emphatically; “knowing the man as well as I do, -I can say most positively that he has never mentioned my name to his -patron, or even alluded to the fact that the late Dr. Orton left a -temporary substitute to fill his pulpit, when he himself went away for -his health, lest, you see, the knowledge of this fact should cause the -squire to take more time in appointing Dr. Orton’s successor. Don’t you -see?” - -“Yes. To leave the absent squire to believe that the parish of Haymore -was entirely destitute of a pastor, would, of course, hasten the patron, -who wishes the good opinion of his people, to appoint an incumbent, and -the most natural thing would be to appoint his brother-in-law. I wish he -were a better man.” - -“So do I, with all my heart!” - -“Well! we are in Heaven’s hands. And as we must clear out by the first -of January, and get into new lodgings somewhere or other, I will go out -the first thing after breakfast to-morrow morning to look them up,” said -Hetty cheerfully. - -“Lodgings in this town!” ruefully grunted the curate. - -“They needn’t be in this town. There are, no doubt, plenty of farmhouses -in the surrounding country where we may get them very cheap, and very -wholesome and pleasant.” - -“Yes; but how are we to pay, even for the cheapest?” - -“Jimmy Campbell! You a minister of the gospel, and have no more faith -than to ask such a question! If you have lost your position here, and if -we must leave the pleasant rectory, still we are three able-bodied -people, who, if we do the best we can, and work at any honest thing our -hands may find to do, will be helped by the Lord, and will do very well -and pay our way.” - -“Oh, Hetty, my dear, you have had no experience in a bitter struggle -with the world!” - -“If I have not, it is well, perhaps, that I should have. And I am ready -to engage in the struggle, though I do not see why it need be a bitter -one, but just a healthful one.” - -“You have a healthful nature, dear, that is certain. As for me, I -sometimes think I am falling weak in body and in mind,” sighed the -curate. - -“No, no, dear Jimmy; not weak, only overworked and weary. Why, you have -not had a vacation for eighteen years, to my certain knowledge. So long -a strain might have made an idiot or a ‘damp, unpleasant corpse’ of any -man less strong and brave than yourself,” said the wife with -affectionate fervor. - -“It helps me to see your faith in me, dear,” he sighed as he took her -hand and pressed it. - -“As for me, Jimmy, I am glad that you will be obliged to rest for a few -weeks or months. Don’t doubt. You must rest. It is our turn now. Mine -and Jennie’s. We must work.” - -“You! What in this world could you do?” - -“A good many things. We—Jennie and I—could teach English and French, -music and drawing, to young ladies, or A B C’s to little children. -Failing that, we could take in dressmaking or plain sewing. Failing -that, I could go out as sick nurse, and Jennie could do up fine laces.” - -“Hetty, you talk wildly.” - -“Not at all. Unless you preach wildly. I am only going to put into -practice what you preach. You tell the artisans and agricultural -laborers that work is worship.” - -“I would not mind your teaching——” slowly began the curate. - -“Of course you would not,” promptly assented his wife; “and I should -prefer it. Teaching is, conventionally, considered a very ‘genteel’ -occupation for a poor lady. And for that, and a few other unworthy -reasons, I would rather teach than do anything else. But if I cannot get -teaching to do I hope I am Christian enough to take whatever work I can -get, whether it should be dressmaking, plain sewing, sick nursing, -or—washing and ironing. There! Even that! I am ashamed of myself for -even preferring a ‘genteel’ occupation to an humble one which is equally -useful. But I won’t let my feelings govern me in this; and so sure as -you have to leave your situation here, you shall take a rest after -twenty years’ hard labor, and Jennie and I will go to work at whatever -we can get to do.” - -“Hetty, you amaze and distract me! You do, indeed!” - -“Look here, Jim. I have not kept my eyes shut all my life, and this is -what I have seen—many unsuccessful professional ‘gentlemen and ladies,’ -who have not talent enough to climb where ‘there is more room higher -up,’ or even to keep their footing on the level where they were born, -but yet who will struggle, slip, flounder, suffer and sin where they are -rather than take a step ‘lower down,’ as they would consider it, but -where there is also ‘more room.’” - -“I don’t quite follow you, Hetty.” - -“This is what I mean: Take an illustration. A man may be an unsuccessful -lawyer, but his knowledge of law would make him so much better a clerk -that his chances of employment in that capacity would be much greater -than those of other competitors. Another man may fail as a minister, but -he might make all the better schoolmaster. A woman may fail as a -teacher, but succeed as a nurse. And what I would both inculcate and -practice is this: That when man or woman fails in the line of life they -have been born into or chosen for themselves, and when they have neither -the power to rise above the level or to keep their footing upon it, let -them not give up in despair or struggle in vain, but step frankly down -to an humbler and honester position. There is always some work of some -sort to be got. He who said ‘Six days shalt thou labor’ will give work -to every hand willing to take it, though it may not be the kind of work -their pride would like best. As for me and my daughter, whatever our -‘hands find to do, we will do it with our might,’ whether we like it or -not.” - -“But, my dear, do you really not care about leaving this beautiful -home?” - -“Under the circumstances, I should not care to stay, even if we could. -Should you? Reflect. The new squire will be here in a few days. You will -have to denounce him as an impostor, a fraudulent claimant, a bigamous -bridegroom. But it would take time to prove these charges. Could you -stay in the parish and preach in the church during that time with any -sort of peace to us all? No. Better that we should go away, and the -sooner we go the better.” - -“My dear, I shall easily prove the fellow to be a bigamist; but as his -crime was committed in the United States of America, I cannot prosecute -him for it here in England. Neither can I prove him to be a fraudulent -claimant. I have been turning that matter over in my mind, and I do not -even know that he is one.” - -“What!” exclaimed Hetty with wide-open eyes. “You do not know him to be -a fraudulent claimant when you know that his name is Kightly Montgomery, -and that he calls himself Randolph Hay?” - -“See here, my love. I know nothing of the conditions of inheritance that -rule this estate. I know nothing of the history of the family or their -intermarriages with other families. How should I, coming here a stranger -from the south of England?” - -“I should think it could not require much experience to teach you that -when a man’s name is Kightly Montgomery and he calls himself Randolph -Hay, he is a liar, swindler and an impostor.” - -“But consider, dear, he may he next of kin and heir-at-law, and his name -now have been legally changed as the condition of his inheritance. His -mother or his grandmother may have been born a daughter of Hay, of -Haymore. The estate may have ‘fallen to the distaff,’ as it is -called—that is, to the female line, and so the heir through that line -might be obliged to take the family name as the condition of his -heirship. Now do you see?” - -“Yes, I see what you mean. But your theory has so many ‘mays’ that it -won’t do. As for me, I prefer to think the villain a fraudulent claimant -as well as a bigamous bridegroom.” - -They were interrupted by a ring at the doorbell. - -Mr. Campbell went to answer it. It was his custom always, when at home, -to do so, to save the steps of the rectory’s one elderly servant-woman. - -There was a hanging lamp in the little hall between the parlor and the -study that gave but a subdued light. They had no gas, and oil was dear, -and economy necessary. - -Mr. Campbell opened the door, expecting to see no one but the little old -sexton. He saw, instead, the tallest and finest looking athlete he had -ever seen in or out of a circus; but he could not distinguish his -features. - -“The Rev. Mr. Campbell?” said the stranger interrogatively. - -“That is my name. What can I do for you?” inquired the curate, who, now -that his eyes had got used to the obscurity, saw that the collossus was -clothed from head to heel in an outlandish costume of dressed buckskin -trimmed with fur, and that his stature was heightened, and his face -shortened by the tall fur cap he wore pulled low down over his forehead -and ears, for the night was cold. - -“My name is Longman—Samson Longman, at your service, sir. I have been -directed by the people at Chuxton to come to you, sir, for information -concerning one Elizabeth Longman, widow——” The speaker’s voice trembled -and broke. - -“Your mother!” said the curate gravely. “She is well and happy as she -can be, without the son she is always pining for and praying for.” - -“Heaven be praised for that! And may the Lord forgive me. Where is she, -sir, if you please?” - -“With us here in the house, our cherished housekeeper, almost our -mother——” - -“Thank the Lord! Can I see her, sir, now, at once? I have come a long -way to ask her forgiveness at last, and to stay with her forever.” - -“Come into my study. We must prepare her for the sight of her son, for -although she seems to be always expecting you, yet the sudden meeting -might be too much for her,” said the curate as he closed the front door -after the entrance of his visitor and led the way into the study. - -“Now, Mr. Longman, sit down here at my desk and write a letter to your -mother. It need be only a line or so, to give me the means of breaking -the glad tidings safely to her ears,” said Mr. Campbell as he turned up -the light of the study lamp and placed a chair for the visitor. - -Longman obeyed like a child, and sat down and wrote his letter. - -“Will that do?” he inquired as he put the sheet of paper into the -curate’s hands. - -“Yes! that will do very well. Now put it into an envelope and seal and -direct it regularly,” said the curate when he had read and returned the -letter. - -Again Longman obeyed like a child, and when he had sealed the letter, -arose and placed it in the hands of the curate. - -“Resume your seat and wait for my return,” said Mr. Campbell as he left -the study. - -He went first into the parlor. - -Hetty was still sitting there alone. Jennie was still with her baby in -the bedroom. - -“Who was that, Jim? A man come to serve you with a writ of eviction?” -inquired Hetty mischievously. - -“Hardly, my dear. But I am sure you will be happy to hear who it was.” - -“Who was it, then?” - -“Elspeth Longman’s prodigal son returned.” - -“Oh-h-h, Jim!” exclaimed Hetty, jumping up, her face perfectly radiant -with benevolent delight. - -“Yes, dear. And now, if you please, I will take you to see him in the -study, where you can talk to him while I go and break these ‘glad -tidings of great joy’ to the poor, long-suffering mother.” - -“Oh, yes! I would love to go! What is the boy like?” - -“‘Boy?’ ‘Like?’ He is like the Apollo Belvedere, or like the Colossus of -Rhodes. A superb, a stupendous fellow. But all dressed in hides like a -North American Indian, or a prehistoric Norseman. But come and see!” -said Mr. Campbell, leading the way to the study. - -Hetty followed, now half anxious, half afraid to see the savage. - -As they entered Longman, seeing the lady, arose, bowed and handed a -chair with so much ease, dignity and grace that Mrs. Campbell was -surprised, pleased and reassured. - -“Mr. Longman, this lady is my wife. She will entertain you while I go to -your mother,” said the curate. - -Longman bowed more profoundly than before, and murmured something to the -effect that he was most honored and grateful to be permitted to make the -lady’s acquaintance; but the hunter was always shy in the society of -gentlewomen. - -Then Mr. Campbell, knowing that Hetty could give the prodigal son more -satisfactory information about his mother in five minutes than any other -creature could in five years, went out and left them together. - -He passed through the parlor and opened the kitchen door. He saw Elspeth -sitting before the stove, knitting, while she waited for her muffins to -bake. - -“Will you come into the parlor for a moment? I wish to speak to you, -Mrs. Longman,” said the curate. - -“Yes, sir,” replied the woman, rising and untying her kitchen apron, -which she took off and hung over the back of her chair. Then she went -into the parlor. - -“Take Mrs. Campbell’s rocking-chair while we talk. Save your back -whenever you can, Mrs. Longman.” - -“Oh, no, sir, it better becomes me to stand in your reverence’s -presence.” - -“Pray, sit down. No, but I insist upon it. I have something to say to -you which cannot be said in a minute.” - -The widow sighed profoundly and sank into the easy-chair. She thought -she knew what was coming. Without the least intention of eavesdropping, -she had heard enough of the conversation that had that evening passed -between the minister and his wife—and which, by the way, had never been -intended to be concealed—to know that they expected to leave the rectory -under such reverse of fortune as would compel them to use the closest -economy in their domestic arrangements. - -Therefore Elspeth thought that she had been summoned to the parlor to -receive her “warning” or her discharge. And she felt not so sorry for -herself in the prospect of losing a good home as for the curate and his -wife on having to dispense with her services. She was turning over in -her meek mind the question of how, without seeming presumptuous, she -could offer to remain with them and serve them without wages, just so -long as her strength and also her clothes and shoes should last, and if -they could afford to keep her even on such easy terms as her board and -lodging. - -Mr. Campbell broke gently in upon her troubled thoughts by asking her: - -“Have you ever received any letter from your son since he has been away, -Mrs. Longman?” - -“Not one, sir, though I feel sure in my mind that he has writ to me, -maybe many letters, and they have all gone astray; and then what hurts -me worst of all is that he may think I must have got some of his letters -and as I was too mad at him and too unforgiving to answer any of them. -And I don’t even know where to write to tell him any better.” - -“But when at last you meet, face to face, then you can tell him.” - -“Oh, yes, sir. And I know that we shall meet again. He who raised the -widow’s son from his bier will hear the poor old widowed mother’s -prayer, and bring her boy back. Though it seems long! Oh, it seems long! -But all the while it comforts me to think that if I don’t know where he -is, the Lord does! If I can’t see him, the Lord can! And I may pray to -the Lord for my boy and He will hear me!” - -“How old are you, Mrs. Longman?” was the curate’s next seemingly -irrelevant question. - -“Forty-three, sir; will be forty-four on the thirty-first of December. -But I must look full sixty, my hair is so white, and my face so thin and -wrinkly.” - -“Well, you have good health, and you Yorkshire people are long-lived. -You may live forty years longer yet—forty happy years with your son.” - -“Oh, minister! what does your reverence mean? Have you heard anything? -Have you got anything to tell me?” inquired the mother, startled by -something in the curate’s tone or look, and speaking with repressed -eagerness. - -“Well, something has come. Have you anybody who would be likely to write -a letter to you?” - -“Nobody in the world, sir, except my boy, and I have never had a letter -from him, as I told you.” - -“Well, a letter has come for you. I did not give it at first, for fear -it might startle you. I think it must be from your son.” - -“Oh, give it to me, sir, please!—now, this moment!” - -The curate handed the letter. The woman seized it, held it under the -light of the lamp and devoured the superscription with ravenous eyes. - -“Oh, yes! It is his writing! It is his own! Oh, thank the Lord! Oh, -thank the Lord!” she cried, falling on her knees and sinking her head in -the cushion of the chair. But she soon arose and drew her spectacles -from her pocket and opened the letter and tried to read it; but the -words ran together in dark lines before her disturbed vision, and she -could not decipher them. - -“Oh, sir, be so kind! Read it for me! Please do!” - -“With pleasure,” said Mr. Campbell. And he took the letter, and omitting -date, read as follows: - -“‘MY BELOVED MOTHER——’” - -“The darling boy!” ejaculated Elspeth in rapture. - -“‘I have crossed the sea and come back to England——’” - -“He is in England! In England! Oh, thank Heaven! Thank Heaven! Go on, -sir! Please go on!” impatiently exclaimed Elspeth. - -The curate smiled at her impetuosity and continued: - -“‘To see your dear face again, and to beg your forgiveness, which I know -you will grant me, though I know I do not deserve it——’” - -“Ah, hear the noble fellow! Taking all the blame on himself, though I -was more in fault nor him! But go on, sir! Pray go on!” - -“‘I long to be with you, to stay with you all the rest of our lives; to -work for you, and to try to make you happy and comfortable, and so atone -for all the trouble I have caused you——’” - -“Oh! the grand son! the noble boy! He will stay with me all the rest of -my life! Oh, that will be joyful!” exclaimed Elspeth, clapping her hands -and breaking into a camp meeting revival hymn, very appropriate, it is -true: - - “‘Oh! that will be joyful! - Joyful! Joyful! Joyful! - Oh! that will be joyful, - To meet and part no more!’ - -“It will be like heaven, sir! like heaven! to have my boy with me all -the rest of my life! But do go on, sir! Forgive a poor mother’s -impatience, and read me what else he says!” she cried, ready to turn -from rapture to tears. - -“There is not much more,” said Mr. Campbell. “Only this: - - “‘Please, dearest mother, if you can pardon me, let me know when I can - come to see you. And believe me your sincerely penitent and evermore - loving and dutiful son, - - “‘SAM.’” - - -“Oh! the darling of darlings! the angel of angels! Oh, please, dear -minister, write for me directly, for I never can hold a pen in the hand -that is trembling for joy and blessedness and gratitude, and tell him to -come immediately. But, no! I will go to him! Where is he? I’ll get the -Red Fox carryall and start for the station immediately. Truly, where -shall I go? Tell me, minister, dear! Look at the letter! Where is it -dated from?” she eagerly demanded. - -“You will not have far to go. He is in this village,” said Mr. Campbell, -smiling. - -“In this village! Oh! then he is at the Red Fox! Let me get my bonnet -and cloak!” she cried, rising to her feet. - -“He is nearer to you than that,” said the minister. Then he drew the -woman’s arm within his own and led her into the study. - -“Mother!” exclaimed Longman, starting up and striding toward her with -outstretched arms. - -“Oh, my darling! my darling!” cried Elspeth, and she fell fainting on -his bosom. - -So much for the careful breaking of the news. - -But she did not swoon to unconsciousness. She almost immediately -recovered. - -Then Longman seated her in the large armchair, and placed himself on the -hassock at her feet. She put her arms over his shaggy head and smiled -through her tears. - -“Come!” said Hetty, laughing. “You and I are _de trop_ in a room with -such a pair of lovers as these!” And she slipped her hand through her -husband’s arm and dragged him from the room without the reunited pair—so -absorbed in their meeting—seeing them go. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE SQUIRE’S ARRIVAL - - -Hetty drew her husband back into the cozy parlor, where they found -Jennie waiting alone. - -“Well, I have put the baby to sleep at last! Little witch! she wanted to -laugh and crow and kick all night. Such a time as I had getting her -quiet! But where have you two been? You look—just as if you had come -from a circus!” said Jennie. - -“So we have! or rather from a domestic drama!” exclaimed Hetty, -laughing; and then she told her daughter all about the sudden return of -Samson Longman, and the joy of his mother. - -Jennie listened in sympathetic delight. - -“And now, my dear, you may come in the kitchen and help me to bring in -the tea. Elspeth has forgotten that there is any such thing as tea in -the world. And who can blame her!” exclaimed Hetty as she left the room -attended by her daughter. - -It was, indeed, nearly an hour beyond their usual tea time. - -The tea was drawn too much, and the muffins were baked too dry; -nevertheless, father, mother, and daughter enjoyed the refreshment. - -There was a good-sized dining-room in the rear of the house on the other -side of the hall, but for reasons of economy it was not used in cold -weather, as it would require another fire, the meals being served in the -family sitting-room or parlor. - -Now, however, as soon as the curate and his family arose from the tea, -his wife said: - -“Jimmy, we must be kind. The kindlings and coal are all laid in the -grate of the back room ready for lighting a fire when required. Do, -dear, go and start it; and Jennie and I will clear off this tea table, -and set another in there for Elspeth and her big boy to take their tea -comfortably; for it is not every day that a prodigal son returns.” - -“And you just know how it is yourselves, don’t you, papa and mamma?” -inquired the prodigal daughter, tenderly. - -“Yes, we do; and I will go right off and do as you wish,” exclaimed the -curate merrily as he left the room. - -Hetty and Jennie went eagerly to work, and soon cleared away their own -table, and then went and set one in the dining-room, where the curate -had already kindled a good fire in the grate. - -Hetty brought out from all the treasures of pantry and cupboard, and in -addition to the substantial fare of cold beef and ham, cheese, bread and -butter, she laid out cake, honey and sweetmeats. - -When all this was done she made a large pot of fresh tea and set it to -draw. Finally she returned to the parlor and sat down with her husband -and daughter in pleasant expectancy for developments from the study. - -She had not to wait long. Very soon came Elspeth into the parlor, her -eyes shining with happiness, and said: - -“If you please, sir, Samson—that is my boy—would like to thank you and -say good-evening before he goes away.” Then noticing for the first time -that the tea table had been cleared away, she started with a little look -of dismay, and before anybody could speak again, she said: - -“Oh! I am so sorry! I clean forgot! I——” - -“Don’t say another word, dear woman. It is all right—quite right. Jennie -and I did all that was necessary, and took pleasure in doing it. And as -for your boy saying good-night and going away before he has broken bread -with you, that cannot be permitted on any account. There! take him into -the dining-room, where you will find a fine fire, and a tea table, and a -pot of tea simmering on the hob.” - -“Oh, ma’am, but you are too good!” - -“Nonsense! I’m delighted—we are all delighted! And, Elspeth, when you -have had your tea, bring your boy in to us while you go upstairs and -make him up a bed in the little spare room next to your own. Do you -hear?” - -“Oh, ma’am, you are too good! Whatever shall I do to repay your -kindness!” exclaimed the grateful creature, with eyes full of tears, as -she lifted Hetty’s hand and pressed it to her lips. - -“Do just as she tells you, Mrs. Longman. And say to your son that we -should be pleased to have him remain here with you until after -Christmas. He shall be most cordially welcome to us all,” added Mr. -Campbell. - -“God bless you, sir, for your great kindness; for indeed it will be a -great joy to me to have my boy under the very same roof with me for a -few days, now that he has come back,” said Elspeth, her wintry face in -an April aspect of smiles and tears. - -“And, of course, it is a delight to us to be able to contribute to your -happiness, you know,” said Mr. Campbell cheerily. - -Elspeth dropped her old-fashioned courtesy and went out. - -And very soon the three remaining in the parlor heard the mother and her -son going down the passage to the rear dining-room that was behind the -study. - -Hetty and Jennie took their needlework, and Mr. Campbell picked up the -morning paper, which no one had had time to look at all day long, and -began to read to them items of news. - -So an hour passed. - -The reunited mother and son lingered long in the dining-room, but at -length they came out and entered the parlor. - -Longman went at once up to Mr. Campbell and said: - -“Sir, I thank you very much for the hospitality you have so kindly -proffered me, and which, for my mother’s sake, I am very happy to -accept.” - -“Don’t mention it, Mr. Longman. Have a seat. This is my daughter, Mrs. -Montgomery,” said the curate, rising and handing a chair. - -Longman bowed profoundly to the young lady, and then dropped into his -seat. - -Elspeth was speaking to Mrs. Campbell: - -“Which room did you say, ma’am, he might have?” - -“Any vacant one you please. The little room next to your own you might -prefer, perhaps,” returned Hetty. - -“Yes, ma’am, I would, thanky, ma’am,” said Elspeth, and she left the -parlor. - -“When did you reach England, Mr. Longman?” inquired Hetty, to make -conversation and set the embarrassed colossus at his ease. - -“Only about twenty-four hours since, ma’am. And I had the honor of -traveling in company with the new Squire of Haymore and his bride, -expected by the people in this neighborhood,” replied Longman, looking -down on his own folded hands, so that he failed to see the effect of his -words; for Mr. Campbell started, Hetty gasped, and Jennie turned pale. - -And the conversation that followed was all at cross-purposes, for -Longman came to speak of Randolph Hay, the only true Squire of Haymore, -and his wife, Judith, and of their crossing the Atlantic Ocean together; -while the curate and his family spoke of Kightly Montgomery, the -fraudulent claimant, and his deceived bride, Lamia Leegh, and of their -crossing the English Channel. - -“The Squire of Haymore and his lady are in England, then?” was the -remark with which the curate reopened the conversation. - -“Yes, sir. I had the honor of coming over in the same steamer with them. -We landed yesterday.” - -“And you left them in London?” - -“Beg pardon, sir, no. We traveled from London together. We reached -Chuxton this afternoon about sunset. We had to wait there for a -conveyance hither, and while we waited, and Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay -and their party took luncheon, I went in search of my dear mother, -expecting to find her there where I had left her, but I heard instead -that she was living at the rectory with your family. So then I told Mr. -Randolph Hay, and he very kindly offered me a seat in his carriage, and -so brought me on here. I rode to the Hall with them, and there left them -and walked on here.” - -“And do you mean to say that the squire and his lady are now really at -the Hall?” demanded the astonished curate. - -“Yes, sir, as I said, or should have said, they arrived to-night a -little after dusk.” - -“But,” continued the deeply perplexed curate, “I don’t understand. The -squire and—his lady were to have sent a telegram from London announcing -their approach, and were expected to make quite a triumphal entry by -daylight, amid the ringing of bells and singing of children, and -flinging of flowers, and all the parade and pageantry that this season -would permit. Prowt, the bailiff, has had his orders to be in readiness -for weeks past, and for days has been waiting a telegram.” - -“I don’t know how that is, sir. I know that Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay -came home very quietly indeed,” replied Longman. - -“But was it not a great surprise, not to say shock, to the servants at -the Hall? And were they at all ready for the squire and—his lady?” - -“I think so, sir. I know Mr. Randolph Hay sent a dispatch to the -housekeeper at the Hall, with instructions to have rooms aired and fires -built, dinner prepared, and everything in readiness to receive himself -and his wife this evening. I know it, sir, for I carried the dispatch to -the telegraph office myself,” said Longman. - -“The people will be very much disappointed at missing the pageantry,” -remarked the curate. - -“I do not think Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay cared for display. I am a -little surprised that it should have been thought of in connection with -them,” said Longman, reflectively. - -“Why, man alive, it was by the squire’s own orders, without the -slightest suggestion from anybody here!” laughed the curate. - -“It was not like him. A more modest and unpretending gentleman I do not -know anywhere in this world!” persisted Longman. - -The curate repressed an inclination to utter a long, low whistle; but he -did say to himself: “So much for the blindness of prejudice.” - -“Oh! I have just thought of it! I will tell you why I think the -triumphal entry was abandoned!” exclaimed Hetty. - -“Why?” inquired her husband. - -“Why, on account of the death of the rector.” - -“Oh! to be sure! that was it; though it was a more gracious thought than -I should have given the man credit for,” added Mr. Campbell. - -At this moment Elspeth came in, smiling. She had been absent much longer -than they had expected her to be; for she had not only prepared the -little spare bedroom for her son, but she had washed up all her dishes -and done all her usual evening work. She carried a lighted candle in a -low, broad brass candlestick. She courtesied to the ladies and -gentleman, as was her custom, and then she said to her boy: - -“And now, Sam, the room the kind master has given you is all ready, and -I will show it to you if you will come.” - -And Longman arose, bade good-night to his hosts, and turned to leave the -room, when Mr. Campbell said: - -“But perhaps you would like to join us in our evening service.” - -Longman bowed in silence, and resumed his seat. - -“Yes,” said Elspeth brightly. “Every night and morning since I have been -in this house has the minister prayed for my wandering boy’s return, and -now that he has come we will give thanks.” - -Jennie arose and got the Bible and prayer book and laid them before her -father. - -And the evening service began. - -In the course of it Mr. Campbell did return “earnest and hearty thanks” -for the restoration of the widow’s son, and prayed that all wanderers -from the spiritual fold of the Lord might likewise be brought back. - -When the service was over, Elspeth, after bidding good-night to her -friends, took up her candle and showed her boy the way to his bedroom. -And soon after the minister and his wife and daughter retired. - -The next day was one of those benign autumn days that sometimes revisit -us even late in December, to encourage and help us through the winter. -The sky was radiantly clear and the sun dazzlingly bright. The many -evergreen trees around the parsonage had something like the fresh -verdure of early spring upon them. It was a day that any healthy person -might have enjoyed the outdoor air without much extra clothing. - -After breakfast Longman went over to the Hall to see his friends. - -Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, standing together at the door, watched him -walking down the walled road that led to the park gates. - -“It is astonishing,” said the curate, “that so honest a man as Longman -should have such a respect for that villain Montgomery as he appears to -have.” - -“I suppose the young fellow has never seen the villain’s cloven foot, -and men have no intuitions to guide them as we have, you know,” replied -Hetty. - -And then, though the splendor of the day invited them to remain -outdoors, they went inside, each to his or her own work. - -The minister went to his study to work on his next Sunday morning’s -sermon. Hetty to her linen closet to look over her stores for mending. -Jennie, well wrapped up, to take her baby, also warmly clad, through the -garden walks. Elspeth to her kitchen to wash up the breakfast service. - -The minister, however, had scarcely got under way with his manuscripts -before the doorbell rang, and he sprang up to answer it. - -Prowt, the bailiff of Haymore, stood there. - -“Could I speak to your reverence a moment, sir?” he inquired. - -“Certainly. Come in,” replied Mr. Campbell, and led the visitor into the -study. - -“Well, minister,” said the bailiff, as soon as they were both seated at -the writing-table near the window, “it has come at last. I have got a -dispatch from the squire, announcing his immediate arrival with his -bride and his brother-in-law, though not with the expected party of -friends.” - -The curate started, and then passed his hand across his forehead, as if -to clear away a cloud of perplexity. Had not Longman told him that the -squire and his lady had arrived the night before? And he could not have -made a mistake, because he came with them, and left them at the Hall. -And now the bailiff tells him that he has received a dispatch, -announcing the immediate arrival of the squire and his party. What did -all this mean? At length an explanation suggested itself, and he spoke -upon it. - -“Has not that dispatch been delayed? Should it not have come yesterday?” -he inquired. - -“Oh, no, sir! It was dated this morning, and came an hour ago!” -exclaimed the bailiff. - -“Have you got it about you? Would you mind letting me see it?” - -“Here it is, sir.” - -The bailiff drew the paper from his vest pocket and put it into the -hands of the minister. - -Mr. Campbell opened it and read: - - “LANGHAM’S HOTEL, LONDON, - “December 15, 18—. - - “TO MR. JOHN PROWT, Haymore Lodge, Haymore, Yorkshire: I shall arrive - with my wife and brother-in-law, the Rev. Cassius Leegh, by the - one-thirty train, at Chuxton. Send one comfortable carriage to meet - us. - - “RANDOLPH H. HAY.” - -Mr. Campbell returned the slip of paper to the bailiff and fell into -silence. He could make nothing of it. He was dumfounded. - -“So you see it is all right, sir,” said the bailiff. “I shall send the -open barouche, as the day is so fine, and with two footmen, besides the -coachman. I suppose they will enter this town about half-past two -o’clock.” - -“Well,” said the dazed curate, “what do you wish me to do?” - -“If you would give orders to the bell ringers, sir, to be at their post, -and also have the parish school children drawn up each side the road -leading to the park gate——” - -“It is rather an unfavorable season—December—for children to be parading -outdoors,” suggested the minister. - -“Of course, sir, the kids can’t wear the white frocks and pink sashes -and wreaths of flowers on their bare heads, as they could have done -three months ago; but they can wear their picturesque winter uniform of -red cloaks and hoods, and black woolen stockings and gloves; and as the -weather is so remarkably fine, and the hour just after noon, in the -warmest part of the day, I do not think the exposure will hurt them. Do -you?” - -“N-oo! I do not suppose it will.” - -“Then will you kindly see to it, sir, that they are drawn up in proper -array, to sing their songs of welcome and throw their flowers before the -bridal pair?” - -“Where will they get flowers at this season of the year?” - -“Oh!—a—from the conservatories of the Hall, if from no other place. I -will see that they are sent over to the schoolroom. I think, also, that -many of the cottagers have a few late flowers in their gardens, such as -chrysanthemums and dahlias and——” - -“And do you think, Mr. Prowt, that because a newly married pair happens -to be happy and prosperous, that living and blooming flowers should be -torn from their warm conservatories and sunny gardens, to be thrown down -in the dirt to perish under carriage wheels, in their honor? I don’t.” - -“Why, minister, I never heard of such an objection!” said the astonished -bailiff. - -“Well, you hear it now. And it might be well for you to think of it. The -custom is a barbarous one, suitable only to prehistoric savages.” - -The bailiff stared. - -“And now, Mr. Prowt, I wish to say this to you—with the kindest feelings -toward yourself, and with sincere regret that I must disappoint you—that -I cannot and will not allow the church bells to be rung, or the parish -children to parade, or any single movement to be made in honor of this -incoming bridal pair which it is in my power to prevent,” said the -minister, all the more firmly because so quietly. - -The bailiff stared in silence, too astonished to speak for a minute. -Then he demanded: - -“But why, in the name of Heaven, reverend sir, would you put such an -affront upon the new squire and his bride?” - -“I put no affront upon them. I simply decline to show them any honor -whatever, or to allow any one under my authority to do so,” emphatically -responded the minister. - -“But this is most amazing, sir. Why, if you please, do you refuse to -honor them?” - -“Because I cannot and must not.” - -“Yet, about three months ago, when there was first a talk of the new -squire bringing home his bride, there was no one more interested than -yourself.” - -“That is true. But since that date circumstances have come to my -knowledge that have changed all my views, and must change all my -actions, toward the incoming squire and his—lady; circumstances that -quite justify me in my present course of conduct.” - -“May I ask your reverence what those circumstances are?” - -“Not yet, Prowt. I cannot tell you. To-morrow or next day the whole -parish may know.” - -“Well, I am perplexed. But, reverend sir, I must at least do my duty, -and go over to the Hall to give directions there for the proper -reception of the new squire, and send the carriage and servants to meet -them. It is nine o’clock now, and they really ought to be off. I hope -you do not blame me, sir, for doing my part.” - -“Certainly not. You must do your duty by your employer,” said Mr. -Campbell kindly. - -“Good-morning, sir,” said the bailiff, taking up his hat to go. - -“Good-day, Mr. Prowt,” replied the minister. - -Even when the visitor was gone and the curate was alone he could not -return to his manuscript sermon. It was impossible to concentrate his -thoughts on the subject. - -“Ah, well,” he said at last, “I shall have to take out one of my old -Medge sermons for Sunday morning. It will be new to these parishioners -at least.” And then he closed his desk, sat back in his armchair and -gave himself up to the problem that was disturbing his mind. - -The dispatch from the squire lay on the table before him. - -The bailiff had inadvertently left it behind him. - -Mr. Campbell took it up, again read it carefully, and again passed his -hand slowly over his forehead to clear away the thick cloud of -confusion. - -The situation seemed inexplicable. - -There was no doubt that this dispatch, dated this morning, signed -Randolph Hay, and announcing the arrival of the squire and of his wife -and brother-in-law on this day, was a perfectly genuine article and a -very hard fact. - -There was no doubt, either, that another Randolph Hay, with his wife and -friends, had arrived at Haymore Hall in company with the indubitable -traveling companion and eyewitness who had reported the fact to the -minister’s family. - -Now what on earth did it all mean? - -One Squire of Haymore and his wife at Haymore Hall, and another Squire -of Haymore and his—lady on their way there! - -Would the two parties meet to-day, and if so, what then? - -The only possible theory of the situation, as it presented itself to the -minister’s mind, was this, upon which he finally settled—that the Mr. -and Mrs. Randolph Hay who had arrived on the preceding evening and were -now at the Hall were the real lord and lady of the manor, and that the -so-called Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay who were expected to arrive to-day -were the fraudulent claimants whom he had taken them to be. - -He had not breathed a syllable of the first arrival to the bailiff, -preferring to keep the matter to himself until he should see Samson -Longman, who had walked over that morning to Haymore Hall, but would -return to the rectory by midday. - -But the backwoodsman came in a little sooner than he had been expected. -He came at once to the study door and rapped. - -Mr. Campbell bade him enter. - -Longman’s face was radiant with merriment, and in his hand he carried a -letter, which he fondled playfully. - -“Well, Longman, you have been to see your friends at the Hall?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Please sit down and tell me all about it.” - -Longman settled himself in the largest leather chair, put his fur cap -down on the floor beside him and fondled his letter. - -“You found the young squire and his wife quite well after their -journey?” - -“Quite well, sir. And also very much delighted with their new home, -which they saw for the first time by daylight this morning.” - -“Longman, you are sparkling all over with repressed amusement. What is -the matter with you?” - -“Anticipation of an entertainment at the Hall to-day, sir.” - -“I think I understand. Do your friends know that there is another Mr. -Randolph Hay and his—lady expected at the Hall to-day?” - -“Oh, yes, sir,” exclaimed the giant, now bursting into a storm of -laughter, which had to have its full vent before he could go on with his -words. “Yes, sir. The bailiff came there an hour ago, full of -importance, to announce the fact. He was somewhat amazed to find the -young squire and his wife already in possession. But they are quite -ready for the reception of the newcomers, sir, and that is the -entertainment I anticipate. Here, sir, is a letter the young squire has -intrusted to me to hand you.” - -The minister took the missive, broke the seal and read: - - “HAYMORE HALL, December 15, 18—. - - “TO THE REV. JAMES CAMPBELL, Reverend and Dear Sir: Although I have - not the honor of your personal acquaintance, yet I have heard enough - of you to engage my sympathies and compel my respect. Therefore, I - hope that you will forgive me for asking you to do me the favor to - come this evening to the Hall to discuss with me the subject of the - living of Haymore, which it is my privilege and pleasure to offer you, - in the hope that you may do me the honor to accept it. May I presume, - also, to ask you to waive ceremony, and bring your wife and daughter - with you on this occasion? I have a special reason for this request, - which, when you shall have heard from me, you will find to be - perfectly satisfactory. - - “I have the honor to be, reverend sir, - - “Very respectfully yours, RANDOLPH HAY.” - -The curate rushed out of the study and into the room where his wife sat -sewing in an avalanche of infirm linen and exclaimed: - -“Hetty, we need never leave the rectory! I have got the Haymore living! -Read that, and thank the Lord!” - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - A MEMORABLE JOURNEY - - -Yes, it was true! Randolph Hay, the rightful heir, was in full -possession of Haymore. He had also entered into his estate with much -more ease than could have been anticipated either by himself, his -friends or his lawyers. - -To explain how this happened, a brief summary of events is necessary. - -It will be remembered that Ran Hay, with his young bride, Judy, and a -small party of friends, sailed on November the 29th from New York by the -steamship _Boadicea_, hound for Liverpool. - -Ran, Judy and Will Walling had staterooms in the first cabin; Mike, -Dandy and Longman had berths in the second cabin. - -This arrangement, on the part of the three last mentioned, was much -against the will of Ran, who would gladly have provided his -brother-in-law and his two friends with the best accommodations the ship -afforded, but that from very delicacy of feeling toward them he could -not offer to do so. Besides, he knew that all three of these men had -money enough to pay for a first-class passage each, had they desired it, -but that for prudential reasons Dandy and Longman did not choose to -squander their savings in that needless manner, and that Mike cast in -his lot with his two friends; and so their little party voyaged in the -plain but clean and wholesome second cabin. - -There could not, however, be much communication between the three in the -first cabin and the three in the second, though they met occasionally on -the common ground of the forward deck. - -Here Ran had long talks with his friends, and learned much more of the -past history of Dandy and Longman than he had ever known before. - -Here, Judy, wrapped from head to heel in her heavy fur cloak, would -often join them, for the weather continued fine. “Wonderful!—just -wonderful!” was the verdict of all the ship’s passengers; the oldest -“salt” declaring that never, at this season of the year, had he known -such weather in crossing the Atlantic. - -Not one of our party suffered from seasickness. The only effect the -voyage seemed to have upon them was an increase of health, vigor and -appetite. - -Their ship was rather a slow one, that was all. - -It was a splendid winter morning about the seventh day out. The sky, of -a clear, deep blue, without a single cloud, and on fire with a sun too -dazzling to be seen, overhung a sea whose waves were like molten -sapphires. The ship, with all her snowy sails spread and filled, was -flying on before a fresh, fair wind. - -On the forward deck, grouped together, were Ran, Judy, Mike, Dandy and -Longman. The hunter had been telling his story for the first time to Ran -and Judy. - -“And so you are from Chuxton! Is not that a strange coincidence? Haymore -Hall and hamlet is in the neighborhood of Chuxton, I think,” said Ran. - -“About ten miles off, sir. Chuxton is the nearest market town and -railway station to Haymore,” replied Longman. - -“Well, my dear fellow, as you say you would never have left your native -country if you could have obtained employment to suit you——” Ran said in -a modest and hesitating way. - -“Among guns and game,” Longman interjected with a laugh. - -“Exactly—’among guns and game?—I do earnestly hope that it may be in my -way to suit you. Longman, I know nearly nothing of my patrimonial -estate, but I have heard my father say that there was no such place for -game in all the North Riding. I hope and trust and pray,” added Ran, -with boyish earnestness, “that I may be able to make you head gamekeeper -at Haymore without injustice to others.” - -“I would not take another man’s place to his hurt, sir,” said the -hunter. - -“I know that, good fellow. Nor would I offer you such an effront. But it -will hurt no one to make you an extra keeper at a good salary.” - -“There, now, Longman! D’ye moind that? Isn’t it jist what I was afther -tilling ye!” exclaimed Mike. “Didn’t I say if Ran, or bigging his -honor’s pardin, Misther Hay, hadn’t a place riddy made to shute ye, he’d -crayate one? D’ye moind?” - -“Something like that,” replied the hunter, laughing. “But I really do -not wish Mr. Hay to make a place for me.” - -“Friends,” said the young squire, “we will leave that question until we -get to Haymore. But in the meantime don’t distress me by calling me -Mr.—anybody! I am Ran to all my old companions.” - -“Ouns! But whatever would the gintry round Haymore be thinking to hear -the squire called be his Christian name, with divil a handle to it, be -the loikes av us?” demanded Mike, with a laugh. - -“I do not care what they think! They will soon know that I and my Judy -and my friends came from the mining camps in the backwoods and mountains -of North America, and that they must not expect more polish from us or -more politeness than neighborly, loving kindness inspires. And now, -Dandy, old friend, what do you intend to do when we all reach England?” -inquired Ran of the old man, who seemed to have been left out, or to -have withdrawn himself from the conversation. - -“Indeed, then, I don’t know, sir! I hevn’t a living soul belonging to me -in the old country except it is my brother’s orphan child, my niece, -Julia Quin. When I left England she was a good-looking young wench, some -seventeen years old, and was at service in a parson’s family down in -Hantz. She’ll be married by this time, I reckon, with no end of kids! -But, anyways, I’ll look her up, sir, if she is to be found.” - -“Have you ever heard from her since you left England?” inquired Judy, -breaking into the conversation the first time for the last half hour, -and interested the moment another woman was brought upon the tapis. - -“Lor’, no, Miss Judy!—which I beg your pardon. Mistress Hay; but I do be -forgetting sometimes. Neither me nor mine was ever any great hand at -letter writing. And she was doing well at the vicarage, I knowed. And I -was wandering about, seeking of my fortin, which I never yet found, -though I might have found it the very next blow of my pick, for aught I -know, if I had had the parsaverance to stay, which I couldn’t have after -the boys here left, and so for twenty years I haven’t heard a word of my -niece. She may be dead, poor wench; for death is no respecter of -persons, though she was a fine, strapping, strong wench, too. Yes, that -is so.” - -“I hope not. I hope she is alive and well for your sake. Where did you -say you left her at service?” - -“At the vicarage, ma’am, in my native town, ma’am.” - -“And what town was that?” - -“Medge, ma’am. In Hantz, on the south coast, where I was born and riz.” - -Judy had started at the first mention of Medge. Now she hastily -inquired: - -“What was the name of the vicar?” - -“One Rev. Mr. Campbell, ma’am; the Rev. Mr. James Campbell. He came from -Scotland, horridonally; but settled into the south coast of England. -Yes, that was so.” - -By this time Ran was listening with the deepest interest to the words of -old Dandy, but leaving Judy to sustain the conversation. - -“Why, Mr. Quin, we know who he is,” she gayly exclaimed. - -“Do you know, ma’am? Indeed, and how, if you please?” - -“Why, Mr. Quin, it is too long a story to tell you how now; and besides, -it concerns other people that I would rather not talk about; but this I -can tell you, that the Rev. Mr. Campbell is not now at Medge, but——” - -“Where is he then, ma’am, if you please to tell me that I may know where -to seek for him? For I shall go to him first of all to ask after my -niece.” - -“He is quite at the opposite end of England. He is at Haymore Rectory, -where we are all going.” - -“The Lord be good to us! Is that so?” exclaimed Dandy joyfully. - -“Indeed, yes! And now, Mr. Quin, if you wish to hear news of your niece, -Julia, you will have to go all the way to Haymore with us. And I am so -glad that we will not be separated. It will be so pleasant for us all to -go together to Haymore.” - -“Yes, Dandy, old boy, and you must stop with me, you know, until you -find your niece,” added Ran. - -“And will I see the Rev. Mr. James Campbell himself?” inquired Quin in -some doubt. - -“Of course you will. And as servants don’t change places as often in the -old country as they do in the new, it is more than likely you will find -your niece at the rectory, unless she is married,” said Judy. - -“Or—dead, poor wench!” added Dandy. - -“Oh, no, indeed. She’s not dead! I’m certain of it,” exclaimed Judy, -with good-natured but inexcusable presumption. - -“I’ll take that for a prophecy, anyways, ma’am, and believe into it. -Yes, that is so.” - -“And you will come with us to Haymore, Dandy?” said Ran. - -“I thank you kindly, sir; I will.” - -“Pray, Mr. Quin, stop calling me sir. You are an old man and I am a -young one, almost a boy, and it is not fitting for you to call me sir.” - -“Mr. Hay, I was brought up into the Church of England, and teached to be -content with that station of life into which the Lord had called me; -likewise, to respect my pastors and masters, and to honor my -sooperioors. And twenty years’ wandering among the mines haven’t made me -forget them airly lessons, nor yet my good manners, sir,” said Dandy, -with a ceremonious bow, as he lifted his fur cap from his bald head. - -“Judy, can’t you bring them to reason?” inquired Ran, with a laugh. - -“Sorrow a worrd they’ll listen to meself!” exclaimed Judy, backsliding -into dialect, as she frequently did. - -“Well, do as you please, or I’ll make you!” laughed Ran. - -And from that hour it was understood that the whole party should keep -together until they should reach Haymore, instead of separating at -Liverpool, as had been first intended. - -The weather continued very fine, though very cold. - -On the morning of the tenth they reached Queenstown. - -There Mr. Walling went on shore and telegraphed to his London -correspondents, Messrs. Sothoron & Drummond, Attorneys-at-Law, Lincoln’s -Inns Fields, that his client, Mr. Randolph Hay, and himself would be in -London on the afternoon of the twelfth. - -The run from Queenstown to Liverpool was as fine as any preceding part -of the voyage. - -They reached port in the early dawn of the morning on the twelfth. - -Without lingering longer in the city than was necessary to get their -baggage through the customhouse and fortify themselves with a -substantial early breakfast at the “Queen’s,” they took the first mail -train for London, where they arrived in the middle of the afternoon. - -Mr. Will Walling, an experienced traveler, who had been in London -several times before, became the guide of the party, and took them from -Euston Square down to Morley’s Hotel, Trafalgar Square, where they -secured a comfortable suite of apartments on the second floor front. - -Mike, Dandy and Longman went to find cheaper quarters. Again Ran would -gladly have entertained them at Morley’s, but could not offer to do so -without affronting their spirit of independence. - -Even Mike, to whom Ran ventured an invitation, declined his -brother-in-law’s hospitality, and cast in his lot with his two old -mining friends. But he promised to look in again in the evening to let -Ran and Judy know where he and his companions had found quarters. - -After a hasty dinner in the private parlor of the Hays, Mr. Will Walling -left the young pair still over their dessert and went out and called a -cab and drove to Lincoln’s Inns Fields to call on Messrs. Sothoron & -Drummond. - -They had been the solicitors of the Hays, of Haymore, for many years, -and were, of course, deeply interested in all that concerned them. - -Much correspondence had already passed between the London and New York -firms, bearing on the recent appearance of the undoubted lawful heir of -Haymore in opposition to the fraudulent pretender, so that there was -already a perfect understanding of the case established between them. - -It was now a little after business hours, but Mr. Will Walling felt sure -that, having received his dispatch announcing his visit, one or both -members of the firm would remain at their office to receive him. - -In fact, he found both gentlemen there. The case was considered much too -important to admit of neglect or indifference, and being after office -hours, they were quite at leisure to give their whole attention to the -business in hand. - -Mr. Walling spent four hours with Messrs. Sothoron & Drummond, and -together the three gentlemen went through the mass of documents, all -together constituting indisputable, immovable proof of Randolph Hay’s -identity as the only lawful heir of Haymore. - -I will not weary my reader with any of the lawyers’ talk, but hasten on -to its results. - -It was nearly nine o’clock when the three gentlemen, having brought -their interview to an end, left the office together and separated, to -seek their several destinations—Sothoron to his home on Clapham Common, -Drummond to his club on Regent Street, and Walling to his friends at -Morley’s. - -Mr. Will found Ran and Judy seated at the front window of their parlor, -in which the gas had been turned down low to enable them to see out into -the street, for they were gazing down on the panorama of the night scene -on Trafalgar Square. - -“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Will, as he entered the room, flung his hat across -the floor and dropped into a large easy-chair near the two young people, -“are you ready to set out for Yorkshire and Haymore by the first mail -train to-morrow morning?” - -“What do you mean?” inquired Ran, looking around, rather startled by the -abrupt entrance and action of his lawyer, while Judy also wheeled her -chair and raised her eyes inquiringly to the first speaker. - -“Just what I asked. Are you ready to start for Haymore Hall by the first -train to-morrow morning?” repeated Mr. Will. - -“What is the use of your asking that, Walling, when you know there is -ever such a law fight to go through first. And even after I have won my -suit, as of course I shall win it, there must be writs of ejectment, and -the Lord knows what all, before we can get that villain out of my house: -for ‘possession is nine points of the law,’ you know, and you may depend -he will contest the tenth point to the bitter end,” said Ran. - -“Not at all!” heartily exclaimed Will Walling; “there will be no fight. -The fellow will not fight; he’ll fly. And though ‘possession is nine -points of the law,’ he has never had possession. What do you think of -that?” - -“I think your words are more incomprehensible than ever. I do not -understand them in the least,” replied Ran. - -“Nor do I,” added Judy. - -“Well, then, listen, both of you. I have been three or four or more -hours closeted with Sothoron & Drummond.” - -“Yes.” - -“And we have been over, together, all the documentary proofs of your -identity as Randolph Hay, the only lawful heir of Haymore.” - -“Well?” - -“Well, every document connected with the case has your name, that is, -Randolph Hay, as the heir and now the owner of Haymore.” - -“Of course.” - -“And you, and you only, are Randolph Hay.” - -“Undoubtedly. But there is another who has taken my name and estates.” - -“He has taken your name and stolen and squandered a good deal of your -money during the last few months; there is no doubt about that. Nor will -you ever get a penny of that lost money back; there is no hope of that. -These moneys he has obtained by fraud from your bailiff, John Prowt, of -Haymore, and from your family solicitors, Sothoron & Drummond, at -Lincoln’s Inns Fields. But, my dear sir, for all that, he has never been -in possession of your estate.” - -“Why not, when——” - -“But he is not Randolph Hay, in whose name all the documents are made -out.” - -“But he is at Haymore Hall now. And it will require a legal process to -get him out, for he will fight every inch of the ground.” - -“Not at all! He is not at Haymore Hall, nor has he ever been there. His -fraudulent presence is not known there. If he were there now, or ever -had been there, or if his person were known there under his stolen name -of Randolph Hay, then, I grant you, in that case we might have to meet -some trouble and confusion, yet not much. And as it is, we shall have no -trouble at all.” - -“But this is strange. How is it that he has never been to Haymore?” -inquired Ran. - -“Because, it seems, he prefers to squander the revenues of the estate in -Paris. But let me tell you what I have this afternoon learned of the -fellow from Messrs. Sothoron & Drummond.” - -“Yes, pray do,” said Judy. - -“It seems, then, that when he first brought his—lady over here, he -intended to go to Haymore, and even had grand preparations made there -for their reception; but from some caprice, he changed his mind and went -to Paris, where he has been with his—lady ever since, squandering money -just as if he knew it did not belong to him, and deferring his return -from time to time, and drawing large sums from—your bankers.” - -“From what I know of Gentleman Geff, I should think it hard to draw him -from the saloons of Paris to the seclusion of a Yorkshire country -house,” said Ran. - -“Yes; but now it seems he is really coming with a party of friends to -spend Christmas at Haymore Hall. He has sent down orders for the house -to be prepared to receive himself and—lady and guests by the fifteenth. -Now then, the servants at the Hall are preparing to receive Mr. and Mrs. -Randolph Hay, whom they have never seen. Now you and your wife are Mr. -and Mrs. Randolph Hay.” - -“Well, what do you advise?” inquired Ran. - -“Why, man alive, your course is as plain as daylight. You and your wife -take the first train to-morrow and speed to Yorkshire and to Haymore -Hall, where you will arrive early in the evening, where you will, no -doubt, find everything ready for you and be joyfully received by your -servants. To be sure, you will arrive rather earlier than you were -expected; but that will not matter much, especially as it will give you -time to get well rested before you will be called upon to receive -Gentleman Geff and his distinguished party.” - -“Oh, that will be the most delicious fun!” exclaimed Judy, clapping her -hands with glee; “and we will have, besides Ran and myself, Mike, Dandy -and Longman all drawn up in a line to welcome him. He will think all -Grizzly Gulch has come to Haymore Hall.” - -“For his guilty soul it would seem - - “‘Birnam forest come to Dunsinane.’” - -said Will Walling. - -“There would be an awful row,” exclaimed Ran. - -“Not at all. There would be a surprise, a panic and a flight. That is, -if you let the villain go. I am not sure that you ought not to have a -warrant and an officer ready to arrest him. Or rather, I am sure that -you ought.” - -“I would rather not, if he will leave quietly,” said Ran. - -“But you must make no terms with a criminal. That would be ‘compounding -a felony,’ a serious offense against English law.” - -“Well, is it settled? Shall we go to-morrow morning?” inquired Judy. - -“Yes, dear; certainly,” replied Ran. - -“And I will go down to the office and find a Bradshaw and see about our -train,” said Mr. Will, picking up his hat and hurrying out of the room. - -He had scarcely disappeared when the door opened and Mike, Dandy and -Longman entered the parlor. - -Judy ran forward to welcome them, while Ran turned up the gas. - -“We have been sitting in the dark to watch the scene in the square -below,” Judy explained. - -“Well, boys, have you found comfortable quarters?” inquired Ran, as soon -as they were all seated. - -“Illigant; and chape enough, too, be the same token, close by in the -Strand; a very ginteel, dooble-bidded bidroom. Longman, being av a giant -fit for a circus, do hev one bid all to himsilf. And Dandy and me, being -av little fellows, do have the ithir to oursilves,” Mike explained. - -While they were still talking Mr. Will Walling returned to the room with -a Bradshaw in his hand. He greeted the three visitors pleasantly, -dropped into a chair and said: - -“Well, there is a train that leaves Euston Square Station at six in the -morning and reaches Chuxton at three in the afternoon. After that there -is no other parliamentary train until twelve noon, which would make it -nine in the evening when it stops at Chuxton, and would be too late to -go on to Haymore the same night.” - -“Oh, then, we will leave by the earlier train, if Judy has no -objection,” said Ran. - -“I? Why, I never minded getting up early!” exclaimed Judy. - -“What do you say, boys?” inquired Ran. - -“The sooner the better for us, sir,” replied Dandy, speaking for the -rest, who promptly assented. - -And then, as the hour was late, the visitors bade good-night, and the -party left behind separated and retired to rest, to be ready for their -early rising. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - AT HAYMORE HALL - - -The whole party were up in the double darkness of a London winter -morning before sunrise. They dressed and breakfasted by gaslight, and -then entered a large carriage and drove to Euston Square Railway -Station, where they were met by Mike, Dandy and Longman. - -“Had you not better telegraph to your housekeeper before we start to let -her know that we shall certainly be at Haymore to-night so that there -may be no mistake, and she will be sure to have beds aired, fires built -and dinner ready for us when we get there?” suggested Mr. Walling, who -was always directly on the lookout for his own personal comforts, and, -incidentally, for those of others. - -Ran immediately acted on the suggestion, saying, when he rejoined his -friends after sending the dispatch: - -“She will think the message comes from the other fellow in Paris and -that he is in London on his way to Haymore.” - -“She will think, or rather she will see, that the telegram comes from -Mr. Randolph Hay, and that will be enough,” replied Mr. Walling. - -“When the other fellow comes on the fifteenth with his friends and finds -us in possession——Well! I can’t help anticipating a rink, a circus, a -hippodrome, a spectacular drama, an earthquake, a conflagration and the -day of judgment all rolled into one!” said Randolph, with a laugh. - -“And there will be nothing of the sort. Only at most a panic and a total -rout. Come, we must take our seats,” exclaimed Will Walling, as he led -the way to the waiting train, where a guide showed them into the middle -compartment of a first-class carriage. - -Mike, Dandy and Longman had taken tickets for the second class. - -“Now is it not too bad that Ran cannot get our friends in here with us, -Mr. Walling?” demanded Judy, as she settled herself in the luxurious -corner front seat of their compartment and noticed that there were just -six seats. - -“My dear Judy,” muttered Ran, “your brother and his companions are able -to take these three vacant seats with us if they please, but for -prudential and very praiseworthy reasons they choose to economize and -take the second class. I could not offer them a worse offense than -invite them to take these seats at my expense.” - -“Well, I do think there is a great deal of false pride in the world,” -Judy pouted. - -“So there is, darling; but we cannot cure it.” - -“It is a wonder their high mightinesses consent to go with you to -Haymore and be your guests there.” - -“That is a different affair.” - -“I don’t see that it is.” - -“But they do,” laughed Ran. - -The train started, and the conversation dropped. - -It was still in the darkness before day that they left the station and -sped off into the open country, where the world was scarcely beginning -to wake up. In London the world seems never to go to sleep. - -Our three travelers had had but little rest in the last twenty-four -hours; and so, between the darkness of the hour, the motion of the train -and their own weariness, they dozed off into dreamland, where they -lingered some hours, until they were called back by the sudden stopping -of the train, for an instant only, for before they were fully awake it -was off again, flying northward as if pursued by the furies. - -Judy shook herself up and looked out of the window on her right hand to -see the eastern horizon red with the coming of the wintry sun above the -moorland. - -At noon they reached Liverpool, where they left their seats, got lunch -and then changed their train for the Great Northern for York. - -Late in the afternoon they entered the great cathedral city, where again -they left their seats, took tea and a little later took train for -Chuxton. - -It was nearly sunset when they came to the end of their railway journey -at the little market town. - -There was no carriage waiting to take them to Haymore. - -And then it occurred to Ran for the first time that by some strange -oversight no carriage had been ordered by him or his attorney to come -from the Hall to meet them at the station. - -There were several vehicles around the place, but all seemed to be -engaged by other parties. - -Our friends walked together to the Tawny Lion Tavern, where Ran ordered -refreshment and inquired for a conveyance to Haymore. - -The Tawny Lion boasted but one—a large carryall drawn by two stout -horses—but that was then engaged, and would not be available to our -travelers for perhaps two hours. - -These were passed by Ran and Judy, after they had finished their meal, -in sauntering about the quaint, old-fashioned town and making -acquaintance with its streets and houses. - -“Here’s where we shall have to come to do our country shopping, you -know, darling,” said Ran; “for I have been told that there is but one -general shop at Haymore, where, though they keep everything to sell, -from a second-hand pulpit to a soup dish, you can get nothing very -good.” - -“But I shall encourage the home trade, and deal at Haymore all the -same,” replied Judy. - -Meanwhile Mr. Will Walling spent his time of waiting over the fire in -the inn parlor, with a bottle of port wine and a stack of cigars on the -table beside him. - -And Longman, accompanied by his shadows, Dandy and Mike, walked out in -the direction of the Old Heath Farm to make inquiries about his mother, -and, naturally, the nearer he came to the scene of his boyhood’s home -the keener and the more intense became his anxiety. It had never seemed -to him that his buxom, healthy, hearty mother could have sickened and -died; nor had it seemed more than, barely possible that she might have -married again. He rather hoped to find her where he had left her five -years before, living on the farm. Still, as he turned from the Chuxton -highroad and went into a narrow lane, overhung by the branches of the -leafless trees that grew on each side the path leading to the farmhouse, -all the dread possibilities of life seemed to threaten him ahead. He -could not now speak of his feelings. He hurried on. The giant was as -weak as a child when he passed through the farm yard and went up to the -house. A man was approaching from another direction. - -Longman leaned against the side of the house for support as he faltered -forth a question. - -“Eh?” demanded the farmer, looking fixedly at the stranger, as if he -suspected him of being top heavy through too much drink. “Is it the -Widow Longman ye’re asking about? No, she dun not bide here now. She -hasn’t been here for these five years past.” - -Another faint, almost inaudible question from the weak giant, which the -farmer had to bend his quick, sharp ear to hear at all. - -“Is she living, do you arsk? Oh, ay, she’s living good enough. She’s -keeping house for the parson at the rectory, Haymore, about ten miles to -the norrard of this.” - -“I thank the Lord!” ejaculated Longman, lifting his cap, almost overcome -by the sudden collapse of highly strung nerves. - -“See here, my man, what’s the matter with you? You look to be used up! I -thought it was drink when I first saw you. But now I see it isn’t. You -look to be faint for want of drink, not heavy from too much of it. Come -in now and take a mug o’ beer, home brewed. ’Twill do ye good,” urged -the farmer. - -“No, thank you. No, really. You are very kind, but I must get on,” said -Longman, rising, and now that his tension of anxiety was relieved, -gaining life with every breath he drew. - -“I wouldn’t wonder now if you was that son o’ hern who went to sea long -years ago and never was heerd on since?” said the farmer, calling after -him. - -“Yes, I am her son, and I am going to Haymore now to find her. Thank -you, and good-day to you,” said Longman. - -“I’m dogged glad on it! One widdy’s heart will sing for joy this night, -anyhow! Well, good-day, and good luck to you, my lad!” were the last -words of the kind-hearted farmer. - -When Longman rejoined his two friends, who he had left waiting for him -at the farm gate, his happy face told the “glad tidings” before his -tongue could speak them. - -“Hooray! It’s good news ye’re afther hearing!” cried Mike, throwing up -his cap and catching it. - -“Yes, I thank the Lord!” replied Longman reverently. - -And then, as they walked down the lane and out upon the highroad leading -to Chuxton, Longman told them all that he had heard from the farmer. - -“So she’s housekeeper at the rectory itself! That’s where your niece, -Miss Julia, will be at service, Mr. Quin!” exclaimed Mike; “that is, if -she’s not married,” he added. - -“Or dead, poor wench!” sighed old Dandy. - -“Oh, bother that! Nobody’s dead, or going to die just yet, is there, -Samson, man?” - -“I hope not, Mike.” - -“Anyways, we shall hear when we get to Haymore. Yes, that is so,” said -Dandy, with an air of resignation. - -He was not nearly so anxious to hear from his niece as Longman had been -to get news of his mother. He did not, indeed, care much about her now, -whatever he might come to care after he should have renewed his -acquaintance with her. - -When they reached Chuxton and turned into the street leading to the -“Tawny Lion,” they saw the huge carryall drawn up before the door, with -a crowd of idlers, mostly boys, gathered around it to see it start. - -Longman and his companions went into the parlor, where they found the -Hays and Will Walling waiting for them. - -“Why have you stayed for us, Mr. Hay? This is really too kind!” said -Longman. - -“Kind to myself, friend! I did not want to go without you. Even if I -had, Judy would not have allowed it. I see by your face that you have -good news of your mother. I congratulate you,” said Ran, offering his -hand. - -“Yes, sir, thank Heaven!” replied the hunter. And then in a few words, -as they walked to the carryall, he told all he heard at the farm. - -“That is splendid!” exclaimed Judy with enthusiasm, as she was lifted -into the carryall by Ran and placed in the sheltered back seat. - -“Dandy must sit back there with you, darling. He is old, and then the -drive over the moor will be a very cold one. You won’t mind it, will -you, Judy?” he inquired, as he settled her among the cushions and tucked -her fur cloak well around her feet. - -“Why, no, of course not. Especially if you will sit right in front of me -so I can lean my head forward on your shoulder sometimes,” Judy replied. - -Then Ran helped Dandy in and made him sit by Judy. The others followed. - -Ran and Will Walling sat immediately in front of Judy and Dandy. - -Mike and Longman on the third seat forward. The driver, a stout -Yorkshireman, on the box. - -The strong draught horses started at a moderate pace, such as might well -be kept up during the whole journey across the moor. - -It was a dark, cold night, and the two glass lanterns, fixtures, on each -side above the driver’s seat, did little better than make “darkness -visible.” But the road was as safe as a road by night could be, and the -horses knew it as well as they knew the way to their own cribs. - -Two hours of jog trot, safe and steady driving brought them to a great -mass of dense shadows, like black mountains and forests against a dark -gray northern sky. - -The driver drew up his horses before this mystery and announced that -they had reached the great wall of Haymore Park. - -“How far from the lodge gates?” inquired Ran. - -“About half a mile, sir.” - -“Drive on then.” - -“If you please, Mr. Hay, I would like to leave the carryall at the point -nearest Haymore hamlet and rectory,” said Longman. - -“Of course! Of course! Naturally you must hasten first of all to your -dear mother. But remember, friend, you are my guest at the Hall, and -bring your mother also if you can persuade her to come,” heartily -responded Ran. - -“Yes, do, Mr. Longman. And I will go to see your mother just as soon as -ever I can,” warmly added Judy. - -“I thank you both very much,” replied Longman, but he gave no promise. - -“Remember, Longman, that you saved my life. But for you—under the Divine -Providence,” said Ran, reverently lifting his hat, “I should not be here -now.” - -“No, nor I, either, for that matter,” added Judy. - -“We both owe you a debt that we can never repay, Longman,” said Ran, -with emotion. - -“Never, except in love and gratitude. And we would like to put ‘a body’ -in our sentiments to make them ‘felt,’ Mr. Longman. You will come and -stay with us at the house, will you not?” pleaded Judy. - -“You make too much of my service, a service that any man worthy of the -name would have done for any other. I do not know what my plain old -mother would say to you.” - -“I am plain myself,” said Judy; “a child of the people. Less than that, -for I never knew father or mother—a child of the planet only! My only -worth is being the wife of my dear Ran here!” - -“Yes, madam, you are the wife of Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore. You are -the lady of the manor. And in this country a social abyss divides you -and yours from me and mine as deep, as impassable as that ‘great gulf’ -that lay between Dives and Lazarus,” said Longman solemnly. - -“It is not so! It shall not be so! I will not have it! Nothing but the -will of Heaven shall divide us from our dear friends!” said Judy -passionately. - -“No!” added Ran with earnest emphasis. “No social gulf shall separate -us, Longman, dear old boy!” - -“Here we be at the lodge gates, sir. And this is the nearest point we -pass to the rectory. We turn in here to go by the elm avenue up to the -Hall. And the road continues right straight on under the park wall up to -the rectory and the church, which is on the other side of the road,” the -driver explained, drawing up. - -“Well, Longman, I should like you to go on to the house and dine with -us, but I know it would be wrong to ask you,” said Ran, as the hunter -got up to leave the carryall. - -“I will see you early in the morning, sir,” said the giant. And then he -shook hands all around, jumped from the carryall and strode on up the -road to the rectory on that visit to his mother which we have already -described. - -A woman came out of the porter’s lodge on the right-hand side, swung -open both broad leaves of the gate and stood courtesying as the carryall -rolled through. - -“The old porter’s daughter—a worthy dame,” said the driver, in answer to -a question from Ran. - -The carriage rolled on through an avenue shaded by great oaks, whose -branches, however, were now bare. In the turns of this drive they caught -glimpses of the house through the trees, with lights sparkling here and -there from the many windows into the darkness. - -After several sweeping turns the avenue passed in front of the house, -and the carriage drew up before a huge, oblong gray building, with -turrets at each corner, bay windows on the first floor and balconies -above. - -As the carriage stopped the hall door was flung wide, and several men -and women servants appeared in the lighted hall. - -The butler stood in the door. Two footmen came down the steps to attend -their master and mistress. - -Ran lifted Judy from the carriage, whispering: - -“Welcome home, my darling,” and led her up the steps and into the hall, -followed by his friends. - -The butler, with a low bow, made way for them to pass. - -The housekeeper, a very aged woman, dressed in a brown satin gown and a -lace cap, came forward to meet them. - -“Welcome home, sir and madam. We have waited for you long, and greet you -gladly,” she said in a tone of exaggerated reverence and with a deep -courtesy. - -Ran held out his frank hand, and Judy said: - -“Thank you, Mrs.—Mrs.——” - -“Basset, madam, and been in the family all my life, as mother and father -were before me. Your old butler, sir, is my son, getting older every -day, but not yet past service, either of us, I thank Heaven. Will you go -to your room now, madam?” - -“Yes, if you please,” said Judy. “I would like to take off my bonnet and -cloak.” - -Mrs. Basset looked all around, and then said: - -“I do not think that your maid has come in yet. Shall I send one of the -men out to hurry her? I suppose she is busy with the parcels in the -carriage.” - -“I—I—I—have no maid—yet,” replied Judy, blushing deeply, for she was -rather afraid of this fine ruin of an old-time housekeeper, even though -the aged woman was evidently falling a little into her second childhood. - -“Oh, I see! I beg your pardon, ma’am. You will be waiting to take some -good girl from the estate. That has been the way with the ladies of Hay -from time immemorial.” She paused suddenly in her babble and looked -fixedly, though still very respectfully, at Mr. Hay. - -Now Ran was just a little sensitive about his personal appearance. He -was not a handsome, soldierly blond, but a beautiful, dark brunette; -graceful as a leopard, sinuous as a serpent. He was in the habit of -humorously stigmatizing himself as “a little nigger.” So when the aged -housekeeper regarded him with her wistful gaze, he thought she was -saying to herself, how little like he was to any of the Hays. He laughed -a little and said: - -“You do not find much resemblance in me to my tall and fair forefathers, -Mrs. Basset.” - -“Sir,” she replied solemnly, “you are the living image of your honored -grandmother. - -The young man burst out laughing, and was joined by Mike and Judy. - -But their mirth ceased as the aged housekeeper added: - -“She died at twenty-three years old. She was the best, the brightest and -the most beautiful being that my eyes ever beheld! And, yes, she died at -twenty-three years old! And you are her living image, as nearly as it is -possible for a gentleman to be. That was the reason why I looked at you -so, sir. I beg your pardon; I forgot myself.” - -“Don’t speak of it, Mrs. Basset,” said Ran kindly. - -“Thank you, sir. You can see the portrait in the picture gallery -to-morrow and judge for yourself—or even to-night if you will,” said the -housekeeper. - -“Thank you; not to-night; we are too tired. To-morrow you shall show us -over the whole house, if you will.” - -“That I will with pride and pleasure, sir. And now, madam, shall I -attend you to your room?” - -“Thank you, yes, please,” said Judy; and she followed her conductress up -the broad staircase to a vast upper hall. - -The housekeeper opened a door near the head of the stairs and admitted -her charge into a spacious, sumptuous bedchamber, upholstered in ebony -and old gold, and in which burned a fine open coal fire. - -The aged woman, much against Judy’s will, insisted upon waiting upon -her; took off her heavy cloak and hat and hung them in the wardrobe, -drew a luxurious easy-chair to the fire and seated her in it, and -hovered around her with affectionate attentions until Mr. Hay came in, -when, with one of her quaint courtesies, she withdrew from the room. - -Again Ran took Judy in his arms, folded her to his heart, kissed her -fondly and welcomed her home. - -“And to-morrow, my darling, we shall have to prepare to welcome -Gentleman Geff and his—lady. I shall send in the morning for Mr. -Campbell and his daughter, that the villain may be confronted with his -wronged wife, as well as his betrayed friend,” said Ran, as he gave his -arm to Judy to take her down to the dining-room, where dinner waited. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - WAITING THE ISSUE - - -In the morning Ran and Judy woke up to look, for the first time, by -daylight on their new home. - -Ran opened the windows and let in the light of the December day upon -their bedchamber, a vast, peaceful, slumberous room, upholstered -throughout in olive green and gold, and looking out upon a park, full of -sunny glades and shady groves, even now in winter when the light of day -shone down on burnished dry grass in the glades and evergreen trees in -the groves. - -The young couple, though lord and lady of the Manor of Haymore, had as -yet neither valet nor maid. So Ran rang no bell, but from a hodful of -coal at the chimney corner, with his own hand, replenished the fire in -the grate and then went to make his toilet. - -Judy lay still, with her eyes looking through the large windows on two -sides of the spacious chamber, out upon the sunny and shady park until -Ran had finished dressing and left the room. Then she arose and took her -bath and opened her large sea trunk to find a dress suitable for her -morning wear. - -She finally selected a plain suit of dark gray velveteen, with crimped -linen ruffles at the throat and wrists. She put it on and went -downstairs. - -In the hall below she found the wide doors open in front, admitting the -winter sunshine, and a great coal fire burning in the broad fireplace in -the back; and between the two, near the front of the stairs, Ran, Will -Walling, Mike and Dandy standing in conversation. - -Dandy was the spokesman. - -“I did think,” he was saying, “that Longman would have come back last -night to bring me news of Julie. But, Lord, I do suppose he got so -wrapped up into his mother that he clean forgot me and mine, or else, -maybe, he could not well get away.” - -“That was it, Dandy,” said Ran. - -“Same time, if, as how I had thought it might be so, myself would have -gone to the rectory with him. And ’deed I’d agone, anyhow, only I didn’t -like to be intruding into a strange place.” - -“I can’t understand,” said Will Walling, speaking for the first time, -“how you fortune-seekers can bear to stay away for years from your -native country without hearing a word from any of your friends at home, -and then, when you make up your mind to return, and once set foot in -your native land, you straightway get into a fever of anxiety and -impatience to meet them.” - -“No more do I, but so it is!” confessed Dandy. - -“Yis,” added Mike. “Sure it was the very same wid Mister Longman himself -when he was gitting nigh onto the ould farrum where he left his mother. -It is curious.” - -“You see, if I only knowed she were alive and well,” said Dandy -apologetically. - -“Oh, you may be sure of that,” cheerfully exclaimed Ran, “but I don’t -think she is at the rectory.” - -“Why don’t you then, sir?” inquired Dandy. - -“Because if she had been Longman would have seen her and told her about -you, and she would certainly have run over last night or early this -morning to see you.” - -“So she would! So she would! And yet I dunno—I dunno! Even darters in -these days ain’t none too dutiful to feythers, let alone nieces to -uncles, ’specially when they’ve been parted twenty years,” said Dandy, -shaking his bald head. - -“I don’t think she is at the rectory, or, under the circumstances, she -would have run over here to see you,” said Ran. - -“I dunno! I dunno!” - -“It is most likely she is married and away.” - -“Or dead and buried, poor wench,” sighed Dandy. - -“Come, come, don’t be so downhearted. Longman will be here soon. He -promised to come early this morning, and no doubt he will bring good -news of your niece. Now here is Judy, and we will go in to our -breakfast,” concluded Ran. - -Judy, stepping from the bottom stair to the hall floor, greeted Will -Walling, Mike and Dandy with a cordial good-morning and led the way to -the breakfast room. - -It was just under the bedchamber Judy had left, and had the same outlook -from windows on the east and north of sunny glades, of burnished dry -grass and shady groves of Scotch firs. - -The table was laid for five, and the old butler was in attendance; not -that His Importance, Mr. Basset, the butler, ever waited at any other -meal except dinner, and then only at the sideboard; but on this -particular occasion of the first breakfast of the bridal pair at Haymore -he thought proper to volunteer his attendance in their honor. - -The consequence was that Mike, Dandy and even Judy were almost afraid to -speak, lest they should expose their ignorance of high life to this -imposing personage. - -The five sat down to table under the cloud of the butler’s greatness. - -But soon the fragrant Mocha, the luscious waffles and the savory venison -steaks and other appetizing edibles combined to dispel the gloom and -enliven their spirits. - -After breakfast Judy sent for the housekeeper, and claimed her promise -to show them through the building. - -Mrs. Basset was only too willing to oblige. The five friends, led by -their conductress, went first up the grand staircase that led from the -lower to the upper halls on every floor to the top of the house. - -“We had better go to the top first, ma’am, while we are fresh, else we -might find the stairs hard to climb,” said Mrs. Basset. - -And Judy, as she knew that the old woman spoke chiefly in the interests -of her own infirmities, answered promptly: - -“You know best, Mrs. Basset. Suit yourself, and you will suit us.” - -They went upstairs to the low-ceiled rooms under the roof, which Mrs. -Basset described as servants’ bedrooms—storerooms for furniture out of -season, boxes, etc. - -Then to the next below, all extra bedrooms, and to the next below that, -all family suites of apartments; and down to the next, on which were the -long drawing and the ballroom, which, with the broad hall between them, -took up the whole flat. - -Lastly, they came down to the first floor, on which were the long -dining-room, the breakfast room, the parlor, the library and the picture -gallery, which was the last place to be inspected. - -The family portraits were arranged in chronological order, beginning -with the Saxon ancestor of the eighth century, who, with rudest arms and -in rudest clothing, resisted the first invasion of the Danes, and whose -“counterfeit presentment” here was probably but the work of the rough -artist’s imagination, executed, or rather perpetrated, at a much later -date. - -Then in regular order came the barons who had rallied around Hereward in -his last desperate stand against the usurper, William of Normandy; the -iron-clad knights who had followed Richard of the Lion heart to the Holy -Land; the barons who had taken up arms in support of the House of York -against that of Lancaster; the plumed cavaliers who had insanely flocked -with all their retainers to the standard of the Stuarts in every mad -attempt of that unhappy family to regain their lost throne; -periwig-pated courtiers of the Georgian dynasty; and, lastly, the -swallowtail coated and patent leather booted gentlemen of the Victorian -age, as represented by the late squire and his three sons. - -The ladies of the chiefs were all there, too, each by the side of her -“lord,” and dressed in costume of her time, or in what was supposed to -be such, for there is little doubt that many of the earlier portraits -were merely fancy pictures. - -Before the group of the late squire and his family Judy suddenly caught -her breath and clasped her hands and stood stock-still, gazing on the -full-length picture of a beautiful dark girl. - -“It is like, isn’t it now, ma’am?” inquired the housekeeper. - -“Like! Why, the picture might be taken for his portrait if it were not -for the dress!” exclaimed Judy, gazing at her husband. - -“It is still more like my Cousin Palma,” said Ran. - -“Why, so it is,” assented Judy; “and does not need change of dress to -make it perfect. The hair of that lady in the picture is worn exactly as -Palma wears hers, and that costume of dark blue is not unlike the dress -Palma wore to our wedding in color and make.” - -“It is indeed a wonderful likeness to Mrs. Stuart,” remarked Mr. -Walling. “Who is the lady?” he demanded, turning to the housekeeper. - -“The last Mrs. Hay, of Haymore, the grandmother of the young squire -here. She died at the age of twenty-three, leaving three boys, of one, -two and three years of age—to give the figures in round numbers,” -replied Mrs. Basset. - -“Yes, I know she was the wife of the late squire; but whose daughter was -she?” persisted Will Walling. - -The housekeeper was silent. - -“Faix, Misther Walling, is it in the coorthoose ye are, with Misthress -Basset intil the witness box, that ye would be cross-examining herself?” -demanded Mike. - -Will Walling turned a deprecating, apologetic glance upon Ran, who -quietly replied: - -“She was the daughter of a gypsy chief. Her name was Gentyl Tuinquer.” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Mr. Will. Then, feeling rather uncomfortable, he added, -to cover his confusion. “How beautiful she must have been!” - -“And how much more beautiful she must be now!” exclaimed Judy. - -The lawyer stared at her. - -“Up there in heaven, I mean; for, of course, she is in heaven, for you -may see by her face how good she is,” added Judy. - -The housekeeper sighed. All the ladies of the long line of Hays had been -“angel born” before this gypsy girl from the tents came into the family. -And though the woman could not help loving the memory of the lovely -young creature, she equally could not help suffering in her own pride at -any mention of the gypsy birth. - -Ran kissed the hand of the pictured lady and then turned with his party -to leave the gallery. - -On stepping out into the hall a footman met him, and with a respectful -salute said: - -“If you please, sir, there is—a—person waiting to see you.” - -“A person? Who? What sort of a person?” demanded Ran. - -“A foreign-looking tall man, sir; might be a Patagonian, only he can -speak English.” - -“Show him in here.” And with these words Ran crossed the hall and -entered a morning parlor on the same floor. Then looking back he saw -that, though his footman had gone on his errand, his friends lingered in -the hall. - -“Come in, all of you. It is only Longman. You will all want to see him, -especially will Mr. Quin.” - -“I do want to see him. Yes, that is so,” assented Dandy, as they all -followed Ran into the parlor, where they found quite a variety of -comfortable chairs. - -They were scarcely seated when Longman entered. - -Ran sprang up and met him; but Dandy pushed between them, his round, -bald head, as well as his face, glowing red with excitement as he -demanded: - -“Have you seen my Juley? Is she well and happy? Is she still in the -service of the minister?” - -“She is well and happy, but no longer in service anywhere. She is -married to John Legg, the greengrocer of your native village, Medge. So -I have not had the pleasure of making her acquaintance,” Longman -replied, with a laugh. - -“The Lord above us! Well, I did sort of hope she was an old-maid woman -as would have been a housekeeper and a daughter to myself in my old -days. Well, and now she is married, and, I do dare say, with a baker’s -dozen of children. Yes, that is so,” said Dandy, with a heavy sigh. - -“No, but it isn’t so. She only married a few months ago, when she was -over forty years old, and John Legg, the widower, who took her for his -second wife, over fifty; so she has no baker’s dozen of children as -yet.” - -“Oh, I’s warrant he has a house full o’ young uns for her to be -stepmother to! And that will be a heap worse than if the wench had a -score of her own! It is as bad as if I had found her dead! Yes, that is -so,” sighed Dandy. - -“No, it isn’t so. You are all out again. John Legg has no children at -home. He has a son and daughter, and gave them both a grand education -above his means, and to repay him they did all they could to break his -heart. They had worldly ambitions above their state, and despised the -calling of their father. The son took ‘holy orders,’ not for the love of -the Lord or the neighbor, but for love of self and the world. He became -a professional preacher only, not a minister of religion. Mr. Hay,” said -the speaker, suddenly turning toward Ran, “I shall presently have -something to say to you in reference to this man, in which you have an -especial interest.” - -“Thank you, Longman. I will remember to remind you of it,” replied Ran. - -“Now will you please go on telling me about the family my niece married -into?” said Dandy impatiently. - -“Certainly!” smiled Longman, good-humoredly. “The son utterly ignores -his father and hangs on the skirts of influential people; but as yet has -had but little success. The daughter went out as a governess, less it -seems to be of service to children than to seek her own fortune, through -her beauty, among the rich and noble. She also ignores her father. Both -these hopefuls are ‘married and settled,’ to use the common phrase. And -the newly-wedded, middle-aged couple are alone.” - -“And what could have tempted my gal to agone and married of a old -widdyman, whose son and darter had showed sich bad blood?” - -“Well, to get out of service, perhaps; to have a house and home and a -good husband, whom she could love, in this John Legg.” - -“I don’t memorize the name of no John Legg at Medge, though, to be sure, -I have been away from them parts for twenty years—yes, that is so!” - -“No, you can’t remember him. He was not a Medge man. He came from the -borough in London about two years ago. After his wife died, -broken-hearted, it is said, by the conduct of his children, he sold out -his business in London and came down to Medge, where he had a married -sister and many nieces and nephews, his only relatives, except his -undutiful son and daughter. He had enough to live on in retirement, but -could not enjoy himself in idleness. So he took the first chance to go -into business again. It happened that the only greengrocer in the place, -an aged man, wanted to sell out and go to live with his married -daughter, who was the wife of a farmer in the neighborhood.” - -“More fool he!” exclaimed Dandy. “I saw the play of ‘Lear’ once.” - -“But there was a _Cordelia_ in it, you know, Dandy!” - -“Yes; go on.” - -“John Legg bought out the old greengrocer, shop, stock, house, furniture -and good will. The rectory people dealt with him, as why not when he was -the only greengrocer in the village? And so he made the acquaintance of -their servant, Julia Quin, and soon proposed to marry her, and as she -did not wish to leave Medge and go with the rector and his wife to -Haymore, she accepted honest John Legg. And I hear that they make a very -comfortable couple.” - -“How do you know all this here you are a-telling me of so confident -like?” - -“Because in your interests I made very minute inquiries into all the -circumstances, and Mr. Campbell was so good as to give me all the -particulars,” replied Longman. “And, Dandy, will you let me speak to my -other friends—they are waiting, you see?” - -“Sartinly, Mr. Longman. Who’s a-hindering on you? I myself am going into -the town to send a telescope message to my niece,” replied the old man, -and with a low bow, intended for all the company, he turned and left the -room. - -Ran hastily shook hands with Longman, then leaving him with the others, -hurried out after his old friend, whom he found on the drive. - -“Dandy! Dandy, I say! Please stop!” he called. - -“Well, Mr. Hay, what’s your will, sir?” the old fellow demanded, turning -to face his host. - -“You must not walk into the village. Take the dogcart.” - -“You are very kind, Mr. Hay, sir; but——” - -“I will have my way. Come down with me to the stables. I have not seen -them yet. But I know there is a dogcart, because Mr. Walling, who is -always wide awake, took a drive in it this morning to get an appetite -for his breakfast before we were up,” said Ran, as he turned into a -footpath leading through the grounds to the rear of the hall, far behind -which were the stables. - -Dandy followed him, if the truth is to be told, not unwilling to spare -his old limbs by riding instead of walking to the village. - -The stable yard occupied full a square quarter acre of ground, walled in -by massive stone buildings, consisting of stables proper, carriage -houses, harness rooms, coachman’s and groom’s quarters and kennels. - -It was full of activity on this morning; for all the fourlegged -creatures there, horses and hounds, seemed spoiling for a run, and were -venting their impatience of restraint—the horses by neighing and kicking -and the hounds by howling and scratching. - -“Yo’ ought to have a good hunting party of gentlemen down here for a few -weeks, sir, to take the devil out of the brutes,” said the old head -groom, touching his hat to his master. - -“All in good time—a——Tell me your name.” - -“Hobbs, sir, at your sarvice.” - -“Well, Hobbs, if you have a steady-going horse, have him put to a -dogcart, and find a careful boy to drive Mr. Quin to the village.” - -“Yes, sir. Old Dick will be the hoss and Young Sandy the driver. I’ll go -and give the order.” - -The groom went across the yard on his errand, while Ran and Dandy walked -off to the kennels to look at the dogs. - -“Not one on ’em to be compared to your Tip or my Lion, Mr. Hay, in my -poor opinion!” said Dandy. - -“These cannot excel ours in courage, or affection, or fidelity, I am -sure,” replied Ran. - -And both men gave deep sighs to the memory of the faithful creatures -they had been compelled by circumstances to leave behind them at the -fort, where, it is true, the two dogs were sure of the kindest treatment -from their new owners—Surgeon Hill, who had adopted Tip, and Adjutant -Rose, who had taken Lion. - -“Do you think we will ever see them again, Mr. Hay?” - -“Yes, I do. In this world or the next.” - -“The next! Mr. Hay, sir!” - -“Why not? I believe the creature that once lives, lives forever. -Especially the creature capable of love, courage, fidelity and -self-sacrifice, as so many of the quadrupeds are, must be immortal.” - -What Dandy would have said in reply was arrested on his lips by the -approach of the dogcart, driven by one of the under-grooms. - -Ran helped his old friend upon the seat, tucked the rug well over his -knees and then inquired: - -“Where do you wish to go?” - -“To the telescope office in the village.” - -“Drive this gentleman to the telegraph office,” said Ran. - -“Beg pardon, sir; but there is no telegraph office in the village, and -none nearer than Chuxton,” said the young groom, touching his hat. - -“Oh! Chuxton is ten miles off! Where we left the train last night you -know, Mr. Quin,” said Ran. - -“Yes, I know! Well, let him drive me there, then! That is if you can -spare the carriage.” - -“Of course I can! All day, if you want it.” - -“’Cause, you see, I don’t feel aquil to traveling all the way back to -the south of England, after having come all the way up to the north, and -I do want to see my niece very bad. And I mean to send a telescope as -will be sartin to fetch her. Yes, that is so.” - -“Very well, then. Drive to Chuxton telegraph office, and then wherever -Mr. Quin wishes to go. You are at his orders.” - -The boy took the reins and drove off, and Ran turned again to question -the old groom. - -“Has there been much sport about here?” - -“None at all, sir. Since the young squire were killed, the old squire -never had no heart for nothing as long as he lived.” - -“Ah! How are the preserves?” - -“Well, sir, the game is increasing and multiplying to that degree for -the want of sporting gents among ’em to thin ’em out, that for once in a -way poachers is a blessing.” - -“Poachers! Why, what is the gamekeeper about, to permit poachers to -trespass?” - -“Well, sir, there ain’t no gamekeeper here, nor likewise been none since -the old squire died. The last gamekeeper went off to Australia to seek -his fortune.” - -“Thank Heaven!” breathed Ran with fervency, not loud but deep, that now -he could put his friend in office without hurting any one’s feelings. - -“You see, it was this a way, sir. When Kirby went to foreign parts, the -old squire was too ill to be bothered about his successor, and after he -died the place was left without one. But surely, sir, Mr. Prowt wrote to -you about all these matters, for he sartinly told me as you had wrote -back how you would wait till you come down here in person to see the -place before you would appoint aither gamekeeper or coachman.” - -“What! has the coachman gone too?” - -“Surely, sir, Mr. Prowt wrote and told you that, too! He left to better -himself, so he said—took sarvice along of the Duke of Ambleton.” - -“What wages do you get as groom here, Hobbs?” - -“Head groom, sir, and twenty pund a year and my keep, and bin in the -famberly, man and boy, fifty years, and hope to continuate in it for -fifty more, I was gwine to say, but anyways as long as I can work, and -that will be as long as I live, for I’d scorn to retire.” - -“Excellent, Hobbs. Have you a family?” - -“Wife, sir, keeping house for me in the cottage there,” said the old -man, pointing to a little stone cottage built in the wall next the -stable, “and one son, sir—boy that driv the dogcart. Steady lad, sir, -though his feyther says it; and one darter, sir, upper housemaid at the -Hall—good girl, sir.” - -“You are blessed in your family, Hobbs.” - -“Thanks be to Heaven, sir!” - -“Now, then, you said your wages as head groom were twenty pound a year. -How much did the coachman get?” - -“Just twice as much, sir, forty pound a year, and a good sound house -over his head, and his livery and his beer. And left all that, sir, for -ten pund more, and gold lace on his coat, and the honor of driving a -duke. May the de’il fly away with him!—begging your pardon, sir.” - -“Don’t mention it,” laughed Ran. “But you would not have left Haymore -under the same circumstances?” - -“Me!—why, sir, I never had the chance, so what would be the use of -boasting? But, indeed, I don’t think I would.” - -“Hobbs, can you drive?” - -“None better in the world, sir, though I say it.” - -“Then you shall be my coachman at the same wages that your predecessor -now gets from his new master,” said Ran, smiling benignly down on the -stupefied face of the man before him. - -“Oh, sir! sir! but this is too much, too much for poor me! Such a -permotion as to be coachman! I can hardly believe it, sir! I can’t, -indeed! And at a rise of wages, too! I can’t hardly believe it!” droned -Hobbs, fairly dazed by his good fortune. - -“Go and tell your wife, then. And begin to see about your livery, and -fix up the coachman’s cottage—at my cost, Hobbs. All that will help you -to believe it. Good-day.” - -With these words the gracious young master left the stable yard and -walked back to the Hall, happy in the feeling of having made others so, -yet grave and thoughtful in the recognition of his responsibilities for -all who were dependent on him. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - THE NEW RECTOR - - -When Ran entered the morning room, where he had left his friends, he -found them all there, but now gathered in a wide circle around the -glowing sea coal fire in the large open grate, listening to Longman, who -was giving a detailed account of his visit to the rectory and his -evening with his mother. - -Ran drew a chair, sat down among them and made one of the audience. - -When the speaker had finished his story Ran turned to him and said: - -“Now, Longman, if you are ready you may tell me what you meant when you -said that you had something to report in reference to that undutiful son -of worthy John Legg,” said Ran. - -“Yes, sir. He has taken ‘holy orders,’ the more effectually to serve the -devil, I fear. And he has been appointed by his brother-in-law to the -living of Haymore parish, worth six hundred pounds, besides the rectory -and glebe—all of which is in your gift, Mr. Hay.” - -“Indeed! And who the mischief is the gentleman’s brother-in-law?” -demanded Ran. - -“Who but the fraudulent claimant of Haymore? Gentleman Geff, or whatever -his real name may be?” - -“Ah!” exclaimed Ran, drawing his breath hard. “The plot seems to -thicken! So the deceived wife of our Gentleman Geff, the young lady upon -whom we have all wasted so much sympathy, is really no other than the -pretty adventuress who left her father to seek her fortune! But I think -we heard of her as Lamia Leegh.” - -“Well,” said Longman, “it would appear that when brother and sister left -honest John Legg, their shopkeeping father, they must have changed the -spelling of their names from plain Legg to mystic Leegh. The latter has -a more aristocratic sound, you know. At any rate, their name was Legg; -yet you heard of the girl as Leegh, and certainly the letter of the man -to Mr. Campbell was signed Leegh—Cassius Leegh.” - -“What did the fellow write to Mr. Campbell about?” - -“Oh, to warn him to leave the rectory, as he himself had been appointed -to the living and should enter upon his office in January, after which -he should not require the assistance of a curate.” - -“Indeed!” again exclaimed Ran. “I think the fraudulent claimant is -giving away the Haymore patronage in a very reckless way!” - -Longman laughed. - -“Let us see now how the case stands. The plot thickens so fast that it -requires a little clearing. The Rev. Mr. Campbell was called to Haymore -to fill the pulpit of the late Dr. Orton during the absence of the -latter at Cannes, and remains in the office at a low salary until a -rector is appointed to the living. And my substitute, the fraudulent -claimant, has appointed his unworthy brother-in-law, who has warned the -good curate to leave. Have I stated the case correctly?” - -“Quite so,” said Will Walling. - -“Very well, then. And we expect the three worthies, Gentleman Geff, Miss -Legg and the Rev. Mr. Legg, calling themselves Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay -and the Rev. Cassius Leegh, all in full feather, here this evening! We -must be prepared for them. Gentleman Geff must be confronted with the -wife he deserted and the friend he assassinated. Oh, that Miss Legg -might be met by her forsaken father! That is barely possible if John -Legg should take the train for Chuxton immediately on the receipt of -Dandy’s telegram, and come with his wife! And the Rev. Mr. Leegh shall -be received by—the rector of Haymore! But that last item necessitates -prompt action. Longman, come into the library with me, will you?” - -The hunter arose and followed Ran upstairs and into the library, where -they sat down at a table on which stood pen, ink and paper. - -“Longman,” said Ran, “would it suit you to be gamekeeper of Haymore?” - -“Why, Mr. Hay, it would make me the happiest man on earth! But I really -would not wish you to give me the place at another man’s expense.” - -“Never fear; it will be at no man’s expense in the sense you mean. There -has been no gamekeeper at Haymore for a year past. The last one left to -seek his fortune in Australia, and no successor has yet been appointed. -The place is yours if you will have it. Indeed, you would please me much -by taking it.” - -“Indeed, then, I will take it, sir, with many thanks,” exclaimed the -hunter warmly, his whole face glowing with the sincere delight he felt. - -“Then that is settled. Get the keys from the bailiff and examine the -cottage and have it fitted up for yourself and your mother in the most -comfortable manner and send the bills to the bailiff.” - -“I will, Mr. Hay. You have made me very happy, for my mother’s sake as -well as my own. We both owe you hearty thanks!” - -“Don’t speak of thanks again, Longman. The man who saved my life can -never owe me thanks for anything that I may have the happiness of doing -for him. Now to speak of another matter. Will you kindly take a letter -for me to the Rev. Mr. Campbell?” - -“Certainly, sir, with great pleasure.” - -“Take a book, then, or amuse yourself in any way you please, while I -write it,” said Ran. - -Longman arose and roamed about before the bookcases, reading the titles -of the imprisoned volumes until he was tired of the amusement. None of -the books attracted him. He was not a bookman. - -“I have finished my letter now, Longman, if you are ready to take it,” -said Ran, folding and sealing the note in which he had invited Mr. -Campbell to come with his wife and daughter to dine with himself and -Mrs. Hay that evening and confer about the reverend gentleman’s -appointment to the living of Haymore. - -“I am quite ready, sir,” said Longman, and he took the letter and put it -in his breast pocket and left the library. - -He had scarcely gone when a footman entered and said: - -“If you please, sir, the bailiff, Mr. Prowt, is here, asking to see -you.” - -“Let him come in here,” said Ran with a smile. - -A moment later the bailiff entered, took off his hat, bowed profoundly -to the young squire, and stood waiting. - -“Take a seat, Mr. Prowt, if you please. You wished to see me, I am -told,” said Ran pleasantly, though hardly able to control the smile that -lurked in the corners of his eyes and lips. - -“Yes, sir,” replied the bailiff, sitting down and placing his hat on the -floor between his feet. - -“Well?” inquired Ran after an awkward pause. - -“Well, squire, if there is anything amiss I hope you will excuse it. I -really did not expect you down last evening, and made no preparations to -meet you. I am told by the head groom that there was no carriage sent to -the station at Chuxton.” - -“It does not matter in the least, Mr. Prowt,” said Ran with a boyish -twinkle in his eyes that he could not suppress. - -“Oh, yes, begging your pardon, squire, but it matters very much. I wish -to set myself right with you, sir. I wish to tell you that it was all -the neglect and carelessness of them telegraph people in Chuxton not -forwarding your dispatch in time. You must, in course, sent it yesterday -morning to announce your arrival in the evening, but I never got it -until this blessed morning, when I thought that it was this evening you -were coming. And I did not know any better until I came over here and -stopped at the stable to tell Hobbs to be sure to send the chariot to -meet you. And he told me that you were already here—that you had arrived -last night. I don’t think I ever was so knocked over in my life. And no -one to meet you! And no ceremonies befitting the reception of the Squire -of Haymore and his bride!” - -“It is all right. Don’t trouble yourself,” said Ran, now laughing -outright. “Come and dine with me this evening.” - -Prowt stared for a moment before answering. Never in the memory of man -had a bailiff been invited to dine with a squire of Haymore. Then he -reflected that the young heir had been found in America, and that -America was a very democratic and republican part of the world, and that -would account for the free and easy ways of the new squire. Only the -bailiff was afraid Mr. Hay might be going to ask the butler and the head -groom to dine with him, also; and that the bailiff could not stand. If -he had never dined with the squire, neither had he ever dined with -butler or groom. While he hesitated, Ran, misunderstanding his -perplexity, said kindly: - -“An informal dinner, Prowt. Only the clergyman and his wife and -daughter, my solicitor, my brother-in-law, two friends from America, -Mrs. Hay and myself.” - -Prowt drew a deep sigh of relief. - -“Thank you, sir,” he said. “You do me great honor. When shall I bring my -books for your examination?” - -“Not this week, Prowt. This is Thursday. No business until Monday.” - -“Just as you please, sir,” said the bailiff, picking up his hat and -rising. - -And without more words he bowed himself out of the library. - -Ran went downstairs and rejoined his friends in the morning room, and -entertained them with an account of his interview with the bailiff. - -“My chief reason for asking him to dinner,” concluded the young man, -“was that he might be present this evening to assist us in receiving Mr. -and Mrs. Gentleman Geff and their esteemed brother and brother-in-law.” - -At this moment the luncheon bell rang, and the whole party went across -the hall to the small dining-room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - TWO SCENES - - -Could any member of the party gathered at Haymore Hall have been gifted -with clairvoyance, he or she might have witnessed in succession two -scenes on that morning of December the 15th, distant, indeed, in space, -but near in interest to the household. - -The first scene was in a greengrocer’s shop in Holly Street, Medge. - -A tall, spare, gray-haired and grave-looking man, of fifty years or -upward, stood behind his counter waiting for morning customers, for it -was still early. - -A blue-coated telegraph boy hurried in, put a blue envelope in his hand, -and laid an open book on the counter, saying: - -“A dispatch, Mr. Legg; please sign.” - -The astonished John Legg, who had never received a telegram in the half -century of his whole life, and now feared that this one must herald some -well-merited misfortune to his unloving and undutiful but beloved son or -daughter, nervously scrawled his name in the boy’s book and tore open -the envelope and read: - - “HAYMORE, CHUXTON, YORKSHIRE, - December 15, 18—. - - “TO MR. JOHN LEGG, Medge, Hantz: I have just come from America; want - to see my niece; am not able to travel. Let her come to me - immediately. It will be to her advantage. - - ANDREW QUIN.” - -With a gasp of relief that this message was no herald of misfortune, but -rather possibly of good fortune, honest John hurried with it into the -back parlor, where his wife—a red-cheeked, blue-eyed, brown-haired, -buxom woman of forty or more—sat sewing, and said: - -“Here, Juley! Read this! What does it mean? Who is Andrew Quin?” - -And he thrust the dispatch into her hand. - -Her eyes devoured it, and then she answered: - -“Why, it is from my dear old Uncle Dandy. He went out to the gold fields -in California about twenty years ago, and we have never heard from him -since. And now he has just come back, and rich as Croesus, of course! -And I am the only relation he has in the whole world! And he wants to -see me. And he isn’t able to travel. And he may be at death’s door, -poor, dear old fellow. John Legg, when does the next northbound train -stop here?” - -“Why, I believe there’s a parliamentary stops here at—let me see—nine -o’clock,” answered the greengrocer, slowly collecting his ideas, that -had been scattered by the intense excitement of his wife. - -“Then we must go by it!” exclaimed Mrs. Legg, jumping to her feet and -beginning immediately to lock up cupboards and set back chairs. - -“What!” cried John Legg, aghast at this impetuosity. - -“We must go by it, or he may be dead before we get there, and his -hospital left to fortunes!” exclaimed Julia in such trepidation that she -reversed her words and never perceived that she did so, nor, in his -bewilderment, did John. - -“But we haven’t half an hour to get ready in!” he pleaded. - -“We must get ready in less time!” cried Mrs. Legg, turning to run up the -stairs that led from one corner of the back room. - -“What’ll I do about the shop?” called John in dismay. - -“Leave it to the boy a day or two,” replied Julia from the head of the -stairs. - -“Everything will go to rack and ruin!” cried the greengrocer. - -“John Legg!” demanded his wife, rushing down the stairs fully equipped -for the journey with bonnet and big shawl, an umbrella and bag in -hand—“do you mean for the sake of a paltry, two-penny-ha’-penny shop, -not worth fifty pounds, to risk an immense fortune, that will make you a -millionaire, or a silver or a gold king, or a brown answer (bonanza?), -or something of the sort?” - -“‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ my dear,” said the man. - -“Jedehiah Judkins, come here and bring your master’s overcoat! And, Jed, -do you mind the shop well while we are gone, and get Widow Willet’s Bob -to come and help you, and I’ll pay him and give you half a sovereign if -we find all right when we come back Saturday night,” said Mrs. Legg. - -The boy, who had just come in with his empty basket from delivering -vegetables about the town, hastened with big eyes into the back room to -obey his mistress’ orders. - -John Legg submitted. He always did. Julia went about fastening doors and -windows, and lastly raking out and covering up the fire. - -Then leaving only the key of the front door with “the boy,” the pair -left the house and hurried to the station, where they were just in time -to buy their tickets and jump into a second-class carriage. And before -John Legg had time to recover his routed and dispersed mental faculties -they were whirled halfway to London. - -“You are the most energetic woman I ever saw in my life, Julia!” he -said, trying to understand the situation. - -“Need to be when there is a brown answer fortune, and a silver kingdom, -if not a gold one, in the question—yes, and a dear, dying uncle, too!” - -“I wonder if the boy will remember to take that celery to the vicarage -when the market gardener brings it this afternoon?” - -“Oh, bother the celery, and the vicar, too! Think of the silver and gold -kingdom—and—yes, of course, the poor, dear, dying uncle!” said Julia. -And onward they flew northward toward Yorkshire, unconscious that they -were destined to take a part in a very memorable drama to be enacted at -Haymore Hall. - -The other scene connected with the same drama, and which the clairvoyant -might have looked in upon, was the elegant private parlor at Langham’s -Hotel, where the counterfeit Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay and the Rev. Mr. -Cassius Leegh sat at an early breakfast. - -The personal appearance of Gentleman Geff and his “lady” are familiar to -our readers. That of the Rev. Cassius Leegh may be described. He -resembled his sister. Nature had given him a very handsome form and -face, but sin had marred both. - -On this morning both men looked bad; their faces were pallid, their eyes -red, their hands shaky, their voices husky, their nerves “shattered,” -their tempers—infernal! - -Gentleman Geff had plunged into the gulf of dissipation to drown -remorse. And the last two months of lawless deviltry in the French -capital had made of him a mental and physical wreck. - -His “reverend” brother-in-law was not far above him in the path that -leads down to perdition. - -Mrs. Gentleman Geff was as well as serene, and as beautiful as it was -possible for her to be under her adverse circumstances. - -But then, being the woman that she was, she had much to console her. She -had come from Paris enriched with Indian shawls, velvet and satin -dresses, laces and jewels which might have been the envy of a duchess. - -She wore her traveling suit of navy-blue poplin, for they were to take -an early train for Yorkshire immediately after breakfast. She performed -her duties as hostess at breakfast with perfect self-possession, though -often under great provocation. - -“When you are settled at the rectory you will, of course, bring down -Mrs. Leegh and the children. I am quite longing to make the acquaintance -of my sweet sister-in-law and her little ones,” said Lamia softly. - -“I don’t know,” sulkily replied her brother. “It’s a bad time—in -midwinter—to move children from the mild climate of Somerset to the -severe one of York.” - -“Look here!” angrily and despotically exclaimed Gentleman Geff. “I won’t -have it! You’ve got to bring ’em, climate or no climate, or you’re no -parson for my parish! It was well enough when you were rollicking and -carousing ’round Paris to leave your wife and kids with your -father-in-law in Somerset, but when you’re settled in Haymore rectory -you have got to have ’em with you. It would be deuced disreputable to -have you, the pastor of a parish, living in one place and your wife and -children in another. And I don’t want any reverend reprobates around me, -I can tell you that much!” - -“You shall have no cause to complain, Mr. Hay,” replied Cassius Leegh, -controlling his temper and speaking coolly, though his blood was boiling -with rage at the insult, for which he would have liked to knock his -“patron” down. - -“I think it is time to go.” - -Gentleman Geff arose, muttering curses at all and sundry persons and -things, flung his pocketbook at Mr. Leegh and told him to go down to the -office and settle the bill and order a cab. - -Half an hour later Gentleman Geff and his companions were seated in a -compartment of a first-class carriage, flying northward as fast as the -mail train could carry them. - -My gentleman’s valet and my lady’s maid traveled by the second class of -the same train. - -Gentleman Geff made himself as disagreeable to his fellow travelers as -shattered nerves and bad temper could drive him to be, and as the hours -passed he became so unendurable as to tax to the utmost the forbearance -of his victims, who rejoiced when the day of torture drew to a close and -their train steamed into the station at Chuxton and stopped. - -They all go out and stood on the platform. The train started again and -steamed northward. Gentleman Geff looked around for his state carriage -and four. There was none visible. He began to curse and swear. - -“Come into the waiting-room, dearest,” said Lamia sweetly. “No doubt -your carriage will be here in a few moments.” - -“It should be here now, waiting. I’ll be —— ——!” (with a terrible oath) -“if I don’t discharge every —— —— of them as soon as I get to Haymore!” -he added as he led the way into the building and sat down, not to please -Lamia, but to rest himself, for bodily weakness was one other of the bad -effects of his intemperance. - -There were but two other passengers besides Gentleman Geff’s party who -got out at Chuxton. - -These were a middle-aged couple, who walked arm in arm to the Tawny Lion -Tavern, engaged the only carriage there, and drove on to Haymore Hall. - -These were, of course, Mr. and Mrs. John Legg. - -Gentleman Geff and his friends waited and waited, the maid or the valet -going out at intervals to see if the carriage from Haymore Hall had -come, or was coming, Gentleman Geff cursing and swearing freely in the -interim. - -At last he burst out with a fearful oath, adding: - -“We can’t wait here all night, Leegh—and be —— to you! Be off with -yourself to the Black Lion, or the Brown Bear, whatever the beastly -tavern is called, and see if you can get a fly.” - -The Rev. Cassius, glad enough to get out of sight and hearing of his -worthy brother-in-law and patron, hurried off to the Tawny Lion, and -made such haste that he soon returned with the fly, which had already -taken Mr. and Mrs. John Legg to Haymore Hall and had just come back to -the inn. - -With many threats, sealed by terrific oaths, of extirpation of all the -domestic establishment at the Hall, Gentleman Geff entered the carriage -with his party and drove off to meet Nemesis at Haymore Hall. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - AN ARRIVAL AT HAYMORE - - -When the curate burst into his wife’s sitting-room with the joyful news -that he was to be the Vicar of Haymore, his impetuous delight was not -inspired by family affection alone, although he was deeply sensible of -the benefits his beloved ones would derive from the commodious house and -grounds and the liberal income attached to the living; but he was -relieved and satisfied to know that his new flock, in whom he had -already become interested, would not be turned over to the wolf in -sheep’s clothing he knew Cassius Leegh to be. - -Mrs. Campbell received his news with a stare of stupefaction. - -“What do you mean?” she inquired at length. - -“I mean that Mr. Randolph Hay—the real Mr. Randolph Hay—the real Squire -of Haymore—has offered me the living of Haymore, which is in his gift, -and has invited me to dine with him this evening to talk over the -affair, and begged me to waive ceremony and bring my wife and daughter -with me to meet his wife and friends. And this he asks as a particular -favor, for particular reasons which shall be explained when we meet, he -adds. Of course I shall go, and you will both accompany me,” he -concluded. - -“Of course we will,” readily responded Hetty. - -“Oh, papa!” exclaimed Jennie in dismay. - -“What are you afraid of, my dear?” - -“Nothing. But, oh, papa, if I might only remain at home!” - -“Jennie, dear, would you disoblige a man who is about to confer a great -benefit upon you?” - -“Not for the world, papa. I will go if you think my failure to do so -would displease Mr. Hay.” - -“I do not think it would ‘displease’ him in the sense of angering him, -my dear; for, by Longman’s account, he is one of the most amiable and -considerate of men; but I do think, from the tone of his note, that it -would disappoint him, for evidently he has a very strong motive for -wanting our presence at Haymore.” - -“Then certainly I will go. But have you any idea, papa, what that motive -can be?” - -“I think I have, my dear. You know that he who is now in possession is -the rightful squire. But surely you have not forgotten that the -fraudulent claimant has been daily expected for a week past.” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Hetty and Jennie in a breath. - -“Well, he is certainly on his way to the Hall this afternoon, and -without a suspicion that the rightful owner of Haymore is in -possession.” - -“Oh, Jim!” - -“Oh, papa!” - -These exclamations broke simultaneously from the lips of mother and -daughter. - -“Yes, my dear ones; the felon, when he shall enter the Hall to take -possession, as he will think, of his stolen estate, will be confronted -by the friend he treacherously assassinated and plundered and left for -dead to be devoured by the wolves of the Black Woods in California, -eight months ago.” - -“Oh, Jim!” - -“Oh, papa!” - -“It is a terrible story, my dear ones, as Longman has told it. But -retribution is at hand.” - -“And do you think, Jim, that Mr. Hay also wants the bigamist to be -confronted by his forsaken wife?” - -“Yes, dear, I think he does.” - -“Oh, papa! papa!” cried Jennie, turning pale. - -“My dear, you met the man on the steamer when you were alone and you -were not afraid of him. If you meet him at Haymore you will be on my -arm,” said the curate in a reassuring tone. - -“And on your arm I shall fear nothing, papa, dear! And now I will not -distress you any more by my nervous fancies. I will go, papa, and behave -as well as I can.” - -“That is my good, brave girl!” - -“And—I know—Mrs. Longman will take good care of baby while we are gone,” -said Jennie in a tone of confidence, but with a look of doubt. - -“Of course she will! There can be no mistake there! She will take better -care of little Essie than you or I could with our best endeavors. -‘Why?’—do you ask?—because she is an experienced nurse and a -conscientious woman—and a tender mother! Are those reasons enough?” -demanded Hetty, laughing. - -Jennie nodded. - -The proposed visit to Haymore Hall had for its suspected object a very -grave and important matter. Yet these two women began immediately to -think of the trifling items—what they should wear! - -It is always so! Whether a woman is to be married or executed, her -toilet seems to be an affair of the most serious consideration. - -Mary Stuart’s dress was as artistically arranged for the block as ever -it had been for her bridals. - -Jennie’s big trunk was unlocked and invaded. She had several dresses, -gifts from her generous friends in New York, much handsomer than Hetty -had ever possessed; and mother and daughter were near enough of a size -to make any dress in the collection fit either. - -Hetty, having her choice, selected a mazarine blue satin, trimmed with -deep flounces of Spanish lace, which very well suited her fair, rosy -face and sunny brown hair. Jennie chose a ruby silk, trimmed with fringe -of the same color, which well set off her rich brunette complexion, dark -eyes and dark hair. - -On ordinary occasions of neighborly visiting for so short a distance as -that between the parsonage and the Hall the curate and his wife and -daughter would have walked, but with such—to them—grand toilets, the two -women required a carriage, which now, with his improved prospects, Mr. -Campbell could well afford. - -So a passing boy was called from the road and dispatched to the Red Fox -to engage Nahum with his mare “Miss Nancy,” and the nondescript vehicle -called by the proprietor a “fly,” by the curate a “carryall,” and by the -village boys a “shandy-ray-dan.” - -At precisely six o’clock this imposing conveyance was at the gate of the -parsonage waiting for the parson and his party. - -Meanwhile, at Haymore Hall, preparations were completed for the -reception of the most incompatible company that ever could be gathered -together. - -Let us take a look at the people in the house and at the guests they -were expecting - -First, as to the inmates, there were Ran and Judy—Mr. and Mrs. Randolph -Hay—their solicitor, Mr. Will Walling; their brother, young Michael Man; -the hunter, Samson Longman, and the old miner, Andrew Quin. - -The three last-mentioned men—Man, Longman and Quin—could all swear to -the identity of the squire in possession as the real Mr. Randolph Hay, -and to the fraudulent claimant as an adventurer known to them by the -name of Geoffrey Delamere and the nickname of Gentleman Geff. - -To this party was coming Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and their daughter, Mrs. -Montgomery, who could all testify to the identity of the same fraudulent -claimant and bigamous bridegroom, as an ex-captain of foot in her -majesty’s service, whom they had known and who had married Jennie -Campbell under his real name of Kightly Montgomery. - -And also Mr. and Mrs. John Legg, who could certainly point out the -deceived “bride,” the so-called Mrs. Randolph Hay, once called Miss -Lamia Leegh, as their daughter, Lydia Legg, and the clerical impostor, -the Rev. Cassius Leegh, as their son Clay Legg. - -All these hosts and guests would make up the receiving party who, at -eight o’clock that evening, would be waiting to welcome Gentleman Geff, -his lady and her brother. - -At six o’clock the resident party in the Hall were gathered in the -drawing-room in full evening dress, waiting for their guests. - -Judy wore her wedding dress of cream-colored silk, trimmed with duchess -lace, but without the veil or orange flowers, and with pearl jewelry -instead. It was the prettiest, if not the only proper dress for the -occasion that she possessed, her wardrobe being but a schoolgirl’s -outfit. - -Ran also wore his wedding suit, because—but will this be believed of the -young squire of Haymore?—it was the only dress suit with which the -careless young fellow had as yet thought to provide himself! - -Mike, Dandy and Longman wore, also, each his “marriage garment,” which -had been provided for Ran’s and Judy’s wedding, and for the like -reason—that they had no others for full dress occasions. - -Will Walling, being the dude of dudes in society, had a choice among a -score of evening suits, so much alike that none but a connoisseur could -have seen any difference between them. He wore one of these. - -“Sort of ser’ous time, Mr. Walling,” said old Dandy, who found himself -seated next to Mr. Will near the great open fire. - -“Don’t see why it should be for you, Mr. Quin,” said Will Walling. - -“No? Don’t ee, now? Well, I allus did hate a furse.” - -“Fuss? Why, there will not be any.” - -Ran, Judy, Mike and Longman, who were standing in the front bay window -looking out upon the drive and chatting together, now came sauntering up -to the fire. - -Ran inquired: - -“What is the matter with Dandy?” - -“He is afraid there will be a ‘furse,’” gravely replied Will Walling. - -Ran burst out laughing. - -Before the peals of his mirth subsided, heavy, rumbling, tumbling wheels -were heard on the drive, and the “shandy-ray-dan” drew up before the -Hall door. - -The mirthful group composed themselves to receive their first guests. - -The door was opened by a footman, who announced: - -“The Rev. Mr. Campbell, Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. Montgomery.” - -And the party from the parsonage entered the drawing-room. - -Ran and Judy went to meet them. - -“The Rev. Mr. Campbell?” said Ran interrogatively as he offered his hand -to the curate. - -Mr. Campbell bowed assent. - -“I am very glad to see you, sir. Mrs. Campbell, I presume? And Mrs. -Montgomery, also? Ladies, I am very happy to make your acquaintance. -Permit me to present you to Mrs. Hay,” said Ran. - -And when this and all the other introductions were over and they were -seated near the great open fire that the chill of the December evening -made so welcome as well as so necessary, Mrs. Campbell, observing Judy’s -painful, blushing shyness, and attributing it all only to her extreme -youth and inexperience, and not at all to the conscious ignorance that -she did not expect in the young bride, addressed conversation to her and -tried to draw her out. - -But Judy blushed and fidgeted and answered only in monosyllables. She -was so absurdly afraid of falling into that dialect which some of her -friends thought one of the quaintest, sweetest charms about her. - -“You have lived most of your life in America?” said Mrs. Campbell, -rather as stating a fact than putting a question. - -“Yes, ma’am,” breathed Judy. - -“I have never seen America, but my daughter here spent several months -over there, and I think she was very much pleased with the country and -the people—eh, Jennie?” inquired Mrs. Campbell with the intention of -drawing Mrs. Montgomery into the conversation. - -“Yes, I was, indeed. Everybody was so kind to me,” replied the young -woman so heartily that Judy felt immediately drawn toward her, and -thenceforth the intercourse of the three became easier. - -Mr. Campbell, to promote a good, social understanding, also contrived to -introduce the subject of mining in the gold fields of California. And -here all his companions were, so to speak, at home. Every one, except -the curate’s party, had something to contribute of instruction upon this -matter. Even Judy forgot her fear of falling into dialect, and was led -to speak freely of home life in the mining camps and woman’s work and -mission there. - -The whole company was on a full flow of conversation when the butler -opened the door and announced dinner. - -Ran immediately arose, offered his arm to Mrs. Campbell, and begged Mr. -Campbell to take in Mrs. Hay. - -Mr. Will Walling, with one of his most lady-killing glances, offered his -arm to Mrs. Montgomery. - -And they all went to the dining-room. - -But neither in the drawing-room nor at the dinner table was the -slightest allusion made to the real motive of their gathering. - -An hour later, when the whole party had returned to the drawing-room and -the talk had wandered from the silver mines of Colorado to those of -Siberia, a footman entered the room and spoke to his master apart, and -in a low voice. - -“‘Two persons to see Mr. Andrew Quin?’ Show them in here, Basset. Or, -stay!—Mr. Quin!” exclaimed Ran, turning to his old friend. - -Dandy came up in a moment. - -“Here are two people inquiring for you. They may come upon private -business with you. I don’t know, of course. So, shall they come in here, -or should you prefer to meet them first?” inquired Ran. - -“Oh! I know who they are! They are my niece and nevvy from Hantz. I’ll -go and meet them!” said Dandy in a delighted tone. - -“And then bring them in here and introduce them to me,” said Ran. - -And Dandy followed the footman out into the hall. - -There he found a tall, thin, gray-haired man clothed in an ulster from -head to heel, holding in his left hand a warm cap, and on his right arm -a stout, rosy, handsome woman in a black velvet bonnet and a gray plaid -shawl that nearly covered the whole of her black silk dress. - -“You—you—you are—my niece—Julia Quin—as was?” inquired old Dandy, moving -doubtfully toward the smiling woman and holding out his hand. - -“Yes, indeed; that is, you are Uncle Andrew,” the visitor exclaimed, -taking the offered hand. - -“Why, to be sure I am!” he cried, drawing her up and kissing her -heartily. “And would you believe it, my wench, but this is the first -time I have kissed a ’oman for more than twenty years! And now -interdooce me to your hubby.” - -“There is hardly need; he knows who you are! Shake hands long o’ your -nephy,” she answered, laughing. - -The two men simultaneously advanced and met. - -“I am proud to make your acquaintance, sir,” said John Legg. - -“So am I yours,” answered Dandy, cordially, if a little incoherently. - -“And you didn’t know me, Juley, did you, now?” - -“Not by sight, Uncle Andrew. You have changed some,” replied Mrs. Legg, -smiling and showing all her fine teeth. - -“So have you! So have you! And a deal more ’n I have! I left you a tall, -slim, fair wench under twenty, and I find you a broad, stout, rosy woman -over forty. If that ain’t a change I’d like to know what a change is!” -said Dandy triumphantly. - -“Why, your change! When you left us to seek your fortune in the gold -fields of California you were a stout, broad-shouldered, red-faced and -red-headed man of forty. Now you are a thin, pale, silver-haired old -gentleman over sixty,” retorted Julia, artfully mingling flattery with -truth. - -“Yes, that is so; that is so,” meekly assented old Dandy; and then, -meditatively, he added: “And I like it to be so. I like to think a good -deal of my body wasting away in the sweet, sunshiny air while still I am -able to walk about in it; so as when, I leave it there’ll be only skin -and bone to lay in the ground—or very little more.” - -“Oh, Uncle Dandy, don’t talk that a way! You can’t be much over sixty, -and you may live to be over eighty or ninety—that is twenty or thirty -years for you to live in this world.” - -“What for?” - -“‘What for?’ Why—why, to be a comfort to your dear niece who loves you,” -replied Mrs. Legg, not consciously hypocritical, but self-deceived into -the notion that she was sincere. - -“Ah!” grunted Dandy in a tone which left his niece in doubt whether he -disbelieved her or not. - -Suddenly the old man, feeling himself fatigued by standing a few -minutes, remembered that he had impolitely, even if unintentionally, -kept his relatives in the same position. - -“Oh, excuse me! Take seats! take seats!” he said, waving his hands -wildly around the hall among the oaken and leather-cushioned chairs with -which it was furnished. - -Mr. and Mrs. Legg seated themselves on two of the nearest. - -Dandy drew a third up before then and dropped into it. - -“You’ll come home ’long of us and stop for good, Uncle Andrew, I hope,” -said Mrs. Legg. - -Before the old man could reply Mr. Legg took up the word. - -“Yes, sir, we should be proud to have you a member of our family for the -rest of your life! And may it be a long and happy one!” - -“I do thank ye, niece and nephy! I do, indeed! But I don’t know ’bout -going home ’long of you now! You see, I’m stopping here ’long o’ my -young friend, Mr. Randolph Hay, and wisiting of him, am sort o’ at his -orders——” began Dandy, but his niece interrupted him hastily, almost -indignantly, with: - -“You don’t mean to say, Uncle Andrew Quin, that while ever you have got -a ’fectionate niece and nephy ready to share their last crust ’long o’ -you as you have gone at your age and tuk service at the Hall?” - -“Lord! No, wench! What are ye talking on? Didn’t I tell ’ee that Mr. -Randolph Hay was a friend of mine? And didn’t I tell ’ee I was -a-visiting on him? What be ye a-thinking on?” - -“Well, then, what did you mean by being at his orders?” - -“Oh! just to give my testimony onto a certain matter in case of need. -And I say I can’t give you any answer to your invitation until I see how -things be gwine to turn out at the Hall!” - -“Ah! how long will that be?” demanded Mrs. Legg. - -“Maybe a few hours, if it don’t go into court; maybe a few centuries if -it do. And in the last case, I sha’n’t be here so long.” - -“Uncle Dandy, you speak in riddles.” - -“I must do that at the present moment, my dear. But in a few hours, or a -few centuries, if you haven’t guessed them in that time, I will give you -the answers to them riddles.” - -“Uncle Andrew, we thought by your sending a telegram to us to ‘come at -once,’ that you were very ill.” - -“Well, my wench, I thank you and him for coming so very prompt. I do, -indeed! So much prompter than I could expect! Really, I didn’t think you -would get here until some time to-morrow. But I’m glad and thankful as -you’re here to-night.” - -“But you are not ill, Uncle Dandy. You are very well, thank the Lord!” - -“I never said I was ill, Juley. I said I wasn’t able to travel. No more -I ain’t. And no more I wasn’t. I’m a feeble old man, wench.” - -“Tut! tut! ‘Feeble old man,’ indeed! You are a ‘fine old English -gentleman,’ as the song says. And now you have come home to old England -so well off and so well-looking you will be getting married and putting -some blooming young aunt-in-law over our heads!” - -“‘Blooming young’ fiddlesticks!” giggled old Dandy, not displeased at -the words of his niece. - -“But what made you telegraph us in such hot haste?” - -“’Cause, after being away so long and coming so far, I got into a sort -of fever to see my kin.” - -“And we were in a fever to see you, you dear uncle, from the moment we -got your dispatch. And we thank you now for sending it, although it did -frighten us nearly to death on your account.” - -“Isn’t it strange you should have cared so much for an old uncle you -hadn’t seen nor heerd tell on for twenty years or more?” demanded Dandy -with a twinkle in his eyes. - -“Strange or not, it was so. But is it stranger than that you should have -cared so much for me as to send a telegram and be in a fever to see me? -Come, Uncle Dandy! You know ‘blood is thicker than water.’” - -“That is so! Yes, that is so!” muttered the old man meditatively. - -“Come, Julia! I think that we must go. You see, Mr. Quin——Or may I call -you Uncle Quin?” inquired John Legg, interrupting his own speech. - -“Uncle Quin, Uncle Andrew, Uncle Dandy—whichever you please,” cordially -replied the old man. - -“Then, Uncle Quin, I must tell you that we are very glad to find you in -such good health. We are sorry, though, that you cannot go home with us -at once. We shall have to return to Medge to-morrow. To-night, however, -we shall have to find quarters in the village here, and will see you -again in the morning before we leave. Shall we say good-night now?” said -John Legg, offering his hand. - -“Oh, stay! stop! I forgot! Mr. Randolph Hay wishes to see you both—wants -to make your acquaintance—and made me promise to bring you into the -drawing-room. Come!” said Dandy, taking the offered hand of his nephew -and trying to draw him toward a door. - -John Legg hesitated, looked at his wife, and then inquired: - -“Who’s in there?” - -“Squire and wife, and brother-in-law and lawyer, parson and wife and -daughter, and a backwoodsman—all plain people as you needn’t be afraid -on; I ain’t.” - -“We would rather not go in. We are not exactly dressed for company, -right off a railway journey, and a very long one at that, as we are. -Can’t you step in and persuade the young squire to come out and speak to -us? You can tell him how it is.” - -“Well, I’ll go and try,” said Dandy. - -And he returned to the drawing-room, went up to Ran, and whispered: - -“Mr. Hay, my niece and nephy be plain folk and a bit shy. They want to -pay their respects to you, but don’t like to face the company in the -drawing-room. Will you please come and speak to them in the hall?” - -“Certainly,” replied Ran, rising; and then turning to his friends he -added: - -“I am called out for a moment. Will you excuse me?” - -Smiles and nods from every one answered him. - -He followed Dandy to the hall. - -“Mr. Randolph Hay, sir,” said the old man with solemn formality, “will -you have the goodness to allow me to interdooce to your honor my niece -and nephy, Juley and John Legg?” - -Julia stood up and dropped her rustic, housemaid’s courtesy. John took -off his hat and bowed. - -Ran held out a hand to each, saying cordially: - -“I am very glad to see you. Your uncle is one of my oldest and most -esteemed friends; so that any friends of his own shall always be most -heartily welcome. You are just from Hantz?” - -“Straight, sir. Arrived by the train that reached Chuxton at six o’clock -this evening,” answered John Legg. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - ANOTHER ARRIVAL - - -Now that was the train by which Ran had expected Gentleman Geff and his -suit, and this was about an hour beyond the time when they were due at -Haymore. So his next question was the inevitable one: - -“Did any other passengers leave that train for Haymore?” - -Then John Legg stopped to laugh a little before he answered: - -“Oh! yes, sir. There were two gentlemen and a lady. I didn’t see their -faces nor hear their names, but they seemed to belong to some seat in -the neighborhood, for the tallest of the gentlemen seemed to have -expected the family carriage to be there on the spot to meet the party. -And when he found that it was not, well, sir, I don’t think as in all my -long life I ever heard such a vast amount and choice variety of -cursing.” - -“Gentleman Geff all over!” muttered Dandy to himself. - -“What became of them?” inquired Ran. - -“Don’t know, sir. We left him there cursing land and water, sun, moon -and stars, so to speak, and threatening the destruction of the earth, or -words to that effect, if his carriage and servants failed to appear -within the next five minutes. We walked to the Tawny Lion Inn and -secured the only conveyance to be found and came on here while the -gentleman waited for his coach and four, or whatever it might have -been.” - -“And is waiting there still, probably, and will have to wait until your -‘conveyance’ returns.” - -“Well, sir, that will not be long. Julia and myself are about to say -good-night,” said John Legg respectfully. - -“‘Good-night,’ indeed! By no means! What do you mean? Come two hundred -miles or so to see your uncle here at Haymore Hall, and after an hour’s -visit say good-night? Not at all! You and Mrs. Legg will, I hope, give -us the pleasure of remaining with us during your stay in Yorkshire,” -said Ran heartily. - -“You are very kind, sir, and we thank you very much, but——” - -John Legg paused and looked at his wife, who did not help him by a word -or a glance. - -“But I will take no denial. Where shall I send for your luggage?” -inquired Ran. - -“We have nothing but hand-bags, sir, and they are in the carryall -outside. You see, we came directly from the Chuxton station to this -house, and have all we carried in the vehicle with us. We intended to -return in it, and to put up at the Red Fox Inn in your village here.” - -“But you will do no such thing. You will get your hand-bags out of the -carriage, send it back to Chuxton—where the swearing gentleman is -waiting, swearing harder than ever, no doubt—and you will remain here -with us.” - -“What do you say, Juley?” said John Legg, appealing to his wife. “Come, -woman, can’t you help a fellow a little?” - -“What do you say, Uncle Dandy?” inquired Julia, appealing in turn to her -old relative. - -“You stop here! Both on you stop! You take Mr. Hay at his word! Ran Hay -means every word that he speaks. If he says he wants you to stop here he -does want you to stop here! And as he does, you ought to do it to please -him as well as yourselves, which you will be sure to do, I know. That’s -all I have got to say!” - -While Dandy was speaking and his niece and nephew listening, Ran -beckoned a footman to follow him, and stepped out of the front door and -went up to the driver of the carryall, who stood by the horses’ heads, -clapping his thickly gloved hands and stamping his heavily shod feet to -keep warm. - -“You came from Chuxton?” - -“Yes, sir, and been waiting here for more’n an hour for the parties I -fotch, and myself near frozen, spite of my piles of clothes and——” - -“Charles,” said Hay, turning his head and speaking in a low voice to the -footman, “go in and get a large mug of strong ale and bring it out to -this man.” - -The footman vanished on his errand. - -The driver continued as if he had not been interrupted: - -“Horses like to catch their death of cold, spite o’ two heavy blankets -apiece laid o’ top of them.” - -“I am sorry I can do nothing for your horses, but if you think any of -the grooms might, just let them do it,” said Ran. - -“No, sir. There can’t nobody do nothing for ’em here. And nothing will -help them but a brisk trot back to Chuxton and a warm mash and good bed -when they get there.” - -The footman came out with a pewter quart measure of strong, foaming ale -and handed it to the driver. - -The latter took it with a “thanky” to the server and a bow to the -master, and said: - -“Thank you, sir. This saves my life. Here’s to a long and happy one for -you and yours. Is the party inside ready to go back, if you please, -sir?” inquired the driver after he had taken one long draught of the ale -and stopped to draw a deep sigh of satisfaction. - -“They are not going back. Charles, get the bags and other effects out of -the carriage and carry them into the house.” - -The footman obeyed, loading himself with two heavy bags, two rugs and a -large umbrella, and took them into the hall while the driver was taking -his second long pull at the ale. - -“How much is your fare?” inquired Hay. - -The man stopped to recover breath with another devout inhalation of -enjoyment, and then answered: - -“Ten shillings, sir.” - -Ran took out his purse and gave the man half a sovereign and half a -crown. - -“Thank you, sir,” said the driver, touching his hat, not for the fare, -but for the “tip.” - -Then he took the blankets off his horses, folded and put them under his -box and mounted to his seat. - -“You had better drive as fast as you can, not only for the sake of -warming the blood of the horses, but for that of cooling the temper of -the gentleman who is waiting for you with his party at the station.” - -“Another fare to-night, sir?” - -“Yes, so I hear from the people you have just brought.” - -“Then the master won’t only have to find fresh horses, but a fresh -driver, sir; for I’m just dead beat. Any more commands, sir?” - -“Not any.” - -“Good-night, then, sir.” - -“Good-night.” - -The driver took up his “ribbons” and started his horses in a brisk trot. - -Ran turned to re-enter the house. - -He was met by John Legg running out bareheaded. - -“What’s the matter?” demanded Ran. - -“The man has gone off without his fare.” - -“Well, go in the house—you will catch your death of cold; but you can’t -stop him now. He is through the lodge gates by this time,” said Ran, -playfully taking John Legg by the shoulders and turning him “right face -forward” to the ascending steps. - -They re-entered the house together. - -Mrs. Legg had already taken off her heavy shawl and bonnet, and had -arranged her hair before the hall mirror, and stood in her neat plain -dress, with fresh _crêpe lis_ ruches—which she had taken from the flap -pocket outside her bag—around neck and wrists, and her only ornaments a -gold watch and chain and a set of pearls, consisting of brooch and -earrings, which had been her husband’s wedding present to herself and -which she always carried about her when traveling for fear, if left at -home, they might be stolen. These she had now taken from her pocket and -put on. - -Altogether she was quite presentable in that drawing-room. And as, with -all, she was a “comely” matron, her husband looked upon her with -pardonable pride as well as love. - -But while furtively glancing at his wife he was putting off his ulster -and speaking to his host all at the same time. - -“I hadn’t a notion what you were about,” he was saying, “until your man -came in loaded down with our luggage. As soon as I saw that and found -out what you had done I hurried out to pay the fare, but the carryall -had gone.” - -“It is all right,” said Ran. “Come in now and let me introduce you to my -friends.” - -“Please, Mr. Hay, let me brush his hair and put a clean collar and bosom -on him first. I won’t be two minutes,” pleaded Mrs. Legg. - -Ran yielded, and the man’s toilet was made in the hall, as the woman’s -had been a few minutes previous. - -Then Ran took Mrs. Legg on his arm and led the way into the -drawing-room, followed by old Dandy and John Legg. - -Hay presented his new visitor first to his wife and then to all his -guests. And the plain pair, it is almost needless to say, were as -cordially received by the cultured people from the English rectory as -they were by the border men from the Californian mining camp. - -When this little ripple in the circle had subsided all settled again -into small groups. - -The four women found themselves temporarily together, and fell to -talking of the weather, servants, children and the approaching Christmas -holidays. - -Mrs. Campbell and her daughter sat one on each side of Julia and made -much of her. No word from Hetty or Jennie revealed the fact that Mrs. -John Legg had once been in their service. - -But Julia made no secret of it. - -“I was housekeeper at the rectory of Medge, ma’am, in the old lady’s -time, three years before his reverence was married.” - -“She means in my grandmother’s days,” put in Mr. Campbell. - -“And for eighteen years afterward; making twenty-one years in all that I -lived with the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell. I held that child, Miss -Jennie—Mrs. Montgomery that now is—on my lap when she wasn’t twenty-four -hours old. And nursed her and took care of her from the time of her -birth until that of her marriage,” said Julia. - -And Jennie, who was holding her hand, raised and pressed it to her own -breast. - -“Yes; and I have lived with them ever since, up to the time when they -left to come up here to Yorkshire. Then I took Mr. Legg’s offer and -married him.” - -“I hope you have been very happy,” said Jennie. - -“I am as happy, dear, as I can be parted from you all. We came to -Haymore to see Uncle Dandy. And we intended to go to-morrow and see you. -We little expected to find you here. I haven’t seen his reverence since -the day he married John and me.” - -“That was the last ceremony he ever performed in Medge parish church,” -said Mrs. Campbell. - -While they talked in this manner of strictly personal and domestic -matters, the rector himself was one of a group gathered around Mr. Will -Walling, who was another Gulliver or Munchausen for telling fabulous -adventures of which he himself was the hero. - -The inevitable subject of mining had suggested to Mr. Will the story of -the horrors of penal serviture in the silver mines of the Ural -Mountains, and he was telling it as if the false charge, the secret -conviction, the exile, the journey, the life in the mines, the escape -and flight through the snow and ice of Siberia, and all the attendant -awful sufferings had been in his own personal experience. And all his -audience listened with the fullest faith and deepest interest—that is, -all except two—Ran, who had heard the story told before to-night, and -John Legg, who had very recently read it in a dilapidated old volume -bought for threepence at a second-hand book stand. - -Ran was bored, and could hardly repress the rudeness of a yawn; and he -saw, besides, that John Legg looked incredulous and sarcastic. - -Then he thought of the party of sinners who were by this time on their -way to Haymore and to judgment. And then that their coming would bring -pain and shame to more than one of that party. But all—even poor -Jennie—had been prepared for the event except John Legg. Then it -occurred to him that he must warn the poor father of the shock that -might otherwise overwhelm him. - -He stopped and said: - -“Mr. Legg, will you favor me with a few minutes’ conversation in the -library?” - -“Surely, sir,” replied the greengrocer with alacrity as he arose to -accompany his host. - -“Friends, will you excuse us for a few moments?” - -“Yes, if we must,” replied Will Walling, answering for the company; -“but, really, you know, it is a shame to go before you have heard the -end of the story.” - -“Oh, I have heard you tell it many times,” said Ran. - -“Yes; but Mr. Legg hasn’t.” - -“Oh, I have done better than that. I have been through it. Why, man, I -was the very Enokoff who helped Wallingski to make good his flight -across the frontier. Only my real name was not Enokoff, but Legginoff, -or Legenough, if you like it better,” said the greengrocer as he -followed Ran from the drawing-room. - -Will Walling started, but could make nothing of the answer; yet to his -circle of listeners he said in explanation: - -“Too bad of Hay to have anticipated me and told that old fellow the end -of the story while they were pretending to listen.” - -Meanwhile Ran had led his companion to the library, where both sat down -on a leathern armchair, on opposite sides of a narrow table, on which -they leaned their arms, facing each other. - -“Now, then, sir, I am at your service,” said Legg. - -“Do you smoke?” inquired Ran. - -“Only occasionally; when I need a sedative and philosophy.” - -“Exactly. I smoke semi-occasionally for the same reasons. Will you take -an exceptionally fine cigar now? It is an Isabella Regina.” - -“Thank you.” - -Ran produced a case and matches. They lighted their weeds and began to -smoke. - -Ran let a few minutes elapse to allow the sedative to take some effect -upon his guest, and then broke the subject for which he had brought the -old man there. - -“Mr. Legg, I hope you will pardon me for asking a question that may seem -to be an unpardonable liberty,” he said in a low voice. - -“Ask me what you please, sir. I am sure it will not be an offensive -liberty, since you could not possibly take one,” gravely replied the old -man. - -“Then, when did you hear from your son and your daughter?” - -“I have no son or daughter, sir. The young man and woman to whom you may -allude forsook our humble way of life as soon as we had finished -educating them above their position, each taking his or her way. Yet I -am often sorry for them and anxious about them, for they were once my -children, though they discard and despise me, for I know that for that -very reason they must come to grief and shame in this world as well as -in the next, if they do not repent and reform. For, look you, Mr. Hay, I -am an old man, and all my long life I have noticed this one thing—that a -man may break every commandment in the decalogue, except one, and he may -escape punishment in this world, whatever becomes of him in the next. I -say he may, and he often does. But if he breaks the Fifth -Commandment—called the Commandment with Promise—his punishment, or his -discipline of pain and failure, comes in this world. However, upon -repentance, he may be forgiven in the next. This is the fruit of my -observation and experience of men. I cannot answer for those of other -people.” - -“Well, Mr. Legg, I fear your opinion is about to be sustained in the -fate of the young people. They are both about to come to grief; and I am -glad for the girl’s sake that you are here to-night, for I am sure you -would stand by your daughter in her trouble,” said Ran. - -The old man stared at the earnest young speaker and then said: - -“So it was for this, Mr. Hay, that you made old Andrew Quin bring me -here by telegraph.” - -“No! Heaven knows I had nothing whatever to do with bringing you to -Haymore. That was entirely Mr. Quin’s own idea.” - -“Then it was old Andrew that worked to bring about my visit here in the -interest of my undutiful daughter.” - -“No! Again you are wrong. Andrew Quin knew nothing whatever of your -chance of meeting your son or daughter at Haymore.” - -“Then the present crisis is accidental.” - -“Providential, rather.” - -“I stand corrected. Where are these people now?” - -“They are on their way to this house. They will be here in one hour from -this time.” - -“My wretched son and daughter?” - -“Yes, Mr. Legg. Your son and daughter, and the man that she believes to -be her husband.” - -“The man that she believes to be her husband! Believes only! Heaven and -earth! has she fallen as low as that?” groaned the father. - -“Not knowingly. Not guiltily. Neither state, church nor society will -hold her guilty of a deep wrong that she has suffered, not committed. -Hers was not an elopement. Not a clandestine marriage. Her courtship was -open. Her engagements approved by all her friends. Her wedding was -public, and the reception that followed was the social event of the -season.” - -“Yet the man is not her husband?” - -“No.” - -“How so?” - -“Because he was and had been a married man for two years previous to his -meeting with your daughter. Because he was and is a bigamist. More than -that, he is a forger, a perjurer, a swindler, a highway robber and a -midnight assassin!” - -“Great Heaven! Great Heaven!” groaned the wretched father, covering his -face with his hands. - -“In a word, this man may be called the champion criminal of his age,” -continued Ran, unmercifully “piling up the agonies.” - -“And how is it that he is at large?” - -“Because his crimes have only recently been brought to light.” - -“And this man has betrayed my poor girl!” - -“It was not her fault.” - -“Yes—ah, me!—it was. Her pride, beauty and ambition have brought her to -ruin.” - -“No! You may still help and save her.” - -“I doubt it. But tell me all about it,” said poor John Legg, sinking -back in his chair and covering his working features with his open palms. - -Ran began and told the whole story of the connection of Gentleman Geff, -Lamia Leegh, Jennie Campbell and himself, comprised within the last -year. - -“And in the room there,” he concluded, “gathered to meet and confound -the great criminal are the witnesses of his crimes, the testifiers to -his identity, and, more terrible than all, his victims, raised as it -were from the dead against him. Among them Jennie Montgomery, the -daughter of James Campbell, the girl who was nursed and brought up for -sixteen years by your good wife, and who was married, then deserted, and -finally stabbed by that felon. Among them, too, myself, Ran Hay, the -friend who shared his cabin and his crust—nay, his heart and soul—with -him, and yet whom he shot down from behind at midnight in the Black -Woods of California. Among them, too, will be the wronged father of that -unhappy girl——” - -“No! no! No! no! Oh, Mr. Hay! I cannot be present at that scene! The -sight of me would add to her suffering. No! When it is all over, and the -man who has spoiled her life has been exposed, then take care of her for -a few hours and afterward let her know of her father; that, however his -heart may have been hardened against his vain, haughty, disdainful -daughter, it is softened by his humbled, grieved and suffering child. -Let her know that her father’s arms and her father’s home are ever -opened to his daughter. But I cannot see her to-night, Mr. Hay. I am -very grateful to you, sir. I understand you now. But please leave me and -send Julia to me. She knows how to deal with me better than any one -else.” - -“I will do so at once. And, Mr. Legg, please use this house and the -servants just as if they were entirely your own. Call for anything you -may like, and do exactly as you choose,” said Ran as he took the old -man’s hand, pressed it kindly, and left the library. - -Then John Legg dropped his head upon his folded arms on the table and -burst into tears. - -Other arms were soon around him. - -He looked up. - -Julia stood there. - -He told her all in fewer words than Ran had taken to tell the story. - -She drew a chair and sat down beside him, took his hand and held it -while she said: - -“Well, don’t cry no more. The girl has had her lesson; but the shame of -her marriage is not hern or ourn. We will take her home and give her -love and comfort and peace, if we cannot give her happiness. I will be -as true and tender a mother to her as if she were my own hurt child. And -her own mother looking down from heaven will see no cause to blame me. -At Medge her story need never be known. She will be the Liddy Legg of -her youth. She went for to be a governess in a rich American family—she -has come home now for good. That is true, and it’s all of the truth that -need be known at Medge. The writing between the lines need not be read -there. And there is Uncle Dandy, who is just as kind as he is rich. He -will surely be good to the poor gal.” - -Suddenly Julia paused and fell into deep thought. - -While she had been comforting her husband in his sorrow over his -miserable daughter her own better nature was aroused, and when finally -she had occasion to allude to her old uncle she felt ashamed of the -selfish and avaricious spirit that had inspired her to run after him for -his imaginary wealth and to covet its inheritance, and she secretly -resolved to try, with the Lord’s help, to put away the evil influence -and think of the old relative as a lonely old man whose age and -infirmities it should be not only her duty but her pleasure to cherish -and support. - -And then the spirit of avarice departed for the time being, at least; -for a devil cannot endure the presence of an angel. - -While this change was silently passing within her she still held her -husband’s hand. - -At length she spoke again, slightly varying the subject. - -“What about the boy?” she inquired, referring to his son. - -“The man, you mean; for he is twenty-eight years old. I don’t know! I -hope he will never get a pulpit, for I know this much, that he is -totally unfit for one; yes, and the bishops, whose boots he is always -licking in the hope of preferment, know it, too! He got the promise of -the living here at Haymore from the fraudulent claimant who has ruined -us all, or tried to do so; but that goes for nothing at all, for Mr. -Randolph Hay has already given it to the Rev. Mr. Campbell, a good man -and worthy minister. So my vagabond will also have to meet with -humiliating disappointment along with his felonious patron and wretched -sister.” - -“Think no more on it, except to do the best you can and leave the rest -to the Lord,” said Julia. - -At this moment the door opened and a footman entered with a large tray -laden with tea, bread and butter, game pie, cakes, sweetmeats and other -edibles. He put it down on the tables between the two people and said: - -“My mistress thought, sir, that you might like refreshments after your -journey. And would you prefer a bottle of wine, sir?” - -“No, thank you; nothing more whatever. You need not wait,” replied Mr. -Legg. - -The man touched his forehead and left the room. - -Judy had remembered what Ran, with all his goodness of heart, had -forgotten. - -But, then, it is almost always Eve, and seldom or never Adam, who is - - “On hospitable thoughts intent,” - -in the way of feeding at least. - -Julia poured out tea for her husband and filled his plate with game pie -and bread and butter, and made him eat and drink and set him a good -example in that agreeable duty. - -In the meantime the company in the drawing-room were getting a little -weary of waiting. - -Mr. Hay had contrived to draw the curate aside, where they could settle -the affair of the living. It was but a short conference, for Mr. -Campbell was glad and grateful to accept it. At the end of their talk -the minister said very sincerely: - -“The utmost that I dared to hope for was the curacy under the new -rector, whoever he should be! But the living! It is more than I ever -dreamed of or deserved! Yet will I, with the Lord’s help, do my utmost -for the parish.” - -What Ran might have replied was cut short with some sudden violence. - -First by the heavy rumbling and tumbling of some clumsy carryall over -the rough drive as it drew up to the front of the Hall and stopped; then -by loud and angry tones of voice; then by a resounding peal of knocks on -the door which seemed to reverberate through the entire building. - -The arrival was an embodied storm that threatened to dash in the entire -front of the house. - -In the library John Legg sprang up and bolted the door against the -uproar, and then sat down by his trembling wife. - -In the drawing-room all was excitement and expectation. - -“It’s him!” exclaimed old Dandy, with his few spikes of white hair -rising on end around his bald crown. “It’s him! Straight from the pit of -fire and brimstone, and possessed of the devil and all his demons!” - -In the hall the frightened footmen hastened to throw open the front -door. - -Gentleman Geff burst in, cursing and swearing in the most appalling -manner, and threatening every one in his house with instant discharge, -death and destruction, for having kept him waiting at Chuxton so many -hours and not having sent his coach and four and mounted servants to -meet him! - -So, raving like a madman whose frenzy is heightened by _mania a potu_, -he broke into the drawing-room in the midst of the assembled company. - -Ran Hay arose and advanced down the room to meet him. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - AT BAY - - -Randolph Hay advanced to meet the violent intruder. - -Gentleman Geff was still raging and threatening. - -“How do you do, Mr. Geoffrey Delamere?” coolly inquired Ran, calling the -man of many aliases by the name by which he had known him in California. - -Gentleman Geff stopped suddenly and drew himself up with drunken -arrogance. - -In the quiet, low-voiced, well-dressed young gentleman who stood before -him, with clear, pale complexion, neatly trimmed hair and mustache, who -wore light kid gloves, and had a rosebud in his buttonhole, he did not -recognize the rough, rollicking, sunburned and shock-headed lad who had -befriended him at Grizzly Gulch, and whom he himself had shot down, -robbed and left for dead, to be devoured by wolves in the Black Woods of -the gold State, and whose name and inheritance he had stolen. - -“Who in thunder and lightning are you, you villain? And what the fire -and brimstone are you doing here, in my house, you rascal?” he fiercely -demanded, and without waiting for an answer he fell to cursing and -swearing in the most furious manner, ending with: “If you don’t get out -of this in double-quick I’ll have you kicked out of doors and into the -horse pond, you scoundrel!” - -“Perhaps if you give yourself the trouble to look up in my face you may -recognize me, as well as my right to be here,” said Ran calmly. - -Gentleman Geff stared. - -“You should remember me. It has not been so long; only since the second -of last April that we parted company in the Black Woods of California,” -continued Ran. - -Then the criminal’s face blanched, his jaw fell, his eyes started, he -stared with growing horror for a moment, then reeled, and must have -fallen but that he was caught in the strong arms of Longman, who -supported him to a high-backed armchair and sat him down in it, where he -seemed to fall into a state of stupefaction. The awful shock of this -meeting had not sobered him—he was too far gone in drunkenness for that; -but it had reduced him to a state of imbecility. - -Meanwhile Mr. Cassius Leegh, who had been engaged outside doing all the -duties of his patron, seeing to the luggage, paying off the carryall, -and even taking care of his sister, now strutted into the room with the -lady on his arm, his head thrown back, his nose in the air, and -altogether with a fine manner of scorn. - -He was not so drunk as his patron; he was only drunk enough to be a very -great man, indeed; but not to be a very violent one. - -“What is the meaning of this irregularity?” he loftily demanded. “We did -not expect company!” - -“We did,” said Ran with a touch of humor in his tone. - -“Pray, who are you, sir?” demanded Leegh, throwing up his head. - -“Ask your companion there,” replied Ran with a wave of his hand toward -the panic-stricken object in the armchair. - -“Hay!” exclaimed Leegh, turning to his patron. “What in the dev—what on -earth does all this mean? Who are all these people?” - -Gentleman Geff opened his mouth, gasped, rolled his eyes and sank into -silence. - -“Can’t you speak, man? What the dev—what is the matter with you? And -what is all this infer—this confusion about?” angrily demanded Leegh. - -Gentleman Geff gasped two or three times, rolled his eyes frightfully -and replied: - -“It is the day of judgment! And the dead—the murdered dead—have risen to -bear witness against me!—have left their graves to cry ‘blood for -blood’!” he shrieked; and then his eyes stared and became fixed, his jaw -fell and his face blanched. - -“Poor idiot!” exclaimed Mr. Leegh in extreme disgust. “I never saw his -so drunk as this. If he goes it at this pace he will soon come to the -end of life. I find I must take command here and clear the house. Have I -your authority to act for you, sister?” he inquired in a whisper of the -woman on his arm. - -“Yes—yes,” she faltered faintly; “but take me first to a chair or sofa. -I feel as if about to faint. Oh, what does is all mean?” - -“It means that our friend here,” he replied, pointing to the collapsed -criminal in the chair, “has delirium tremens. And ‘has ’em bad,’ as the -old costermonger used to say of his cousin,” he added as he placed his -sister in a large, cushioned armchair, into which she sank exhausted. - -Then he glanced over the scene, taking stock of the company preparatory -to his work of clearing the room. - -Nearest to him, on his right hand, stood the young colossus, Samson -Longman, leaning over the chair of poor old Dandy, who sat with his bald -head dropped and his withered face hidden in the palms of his hands. - -These two men were both strangers to Mr. Leegh, who did not feel -inclined to commence his work of expulsion with the giant or his -immediate protégé. - -A little further off, on his left, stood a group of three—Ran, Mike and -Will Walling—talking together. These were also strangers to Mr. Leegh, -who did not feel disposed to begin with them either. - -Still further off, straight before him, at the other end of the room, -was another group, each individual of which he recognized. These were -the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, and their daughter, Jennie, whom he had -often visited at their parsonage in Medge; and to Mr. Campbell he had -but lately written, as the reader may remember, warning him to leave the -rectory, to which he himself—Leegh—had been appointed. - -Here, then, was his opportunity. He would begin with these. - -The rector—as we must call him now, since his induction into the Haymore -living by Mr. Randolph Hay—was seated on a corner sofa with his wife and -daughter, the latter sitting between her father and her mother, with her -distressed face hidden in that mother’s bosom. Yet Leegh had -instinctively recognized her as well as her parents. - -He went up, nodded to Mr. Campbell and offered his hand. - -The rector bowed in return, but did not take Leegh’s hand. - -“I am surprised to see you here this evening, sir. How do you do, Mrs. -Campbell? I hope Miss Jennie is quite well,” said Leegh in an offhand -way, not choosing to notice the rector’s coolness, not knowing or -suspecting that he was the rector. - -“I am here at the invitation of Mr. Randolph Hay,” said Mr. Campbell. - -“My daughter is quite well, thank you, Mr. Leegh,” said Mrs. Campbell. - -Both the husband and the wife answering his careless greeting -simultaneously. - -“I am glad to hear of Miss Jennie’s good health. She is only tired, -then, perhaps, or sleepy? Did you say you were here at the invitation of -the squire, Mr. Campbell?” - -“Yes, sir; of Mr. Randolph Hay,” calmly replied the rector. - -“Then he must have been even drun—I mean, more incomprehensible than he -is now. Pray, did he also invite all these other people I see here?” - -“I think not. He did not invite you, or your sister, or Capt. -Montgomery,” replied Mr. Campbell. - -“Didn’t invite me or my sister! Why, my sister is his wife, man, and I -am his brother-in-law! And he brought us down with him to-night.” - -“I think not,” said the rector. - -“You think not! Why, here we are, anyway. Here am I. There is my sister -in that armchair, somewhat prostrated and disgusted, to be sure. And -there is her husband on that high-back throne, somewhat ‘disguised,’ as -one might say.” - -“I think you are mistaken in all that you have said,” quietly remarked -Mr. Campbell. - -“I think that everybody in the room, except myself, is drunk or -demented, or most likely both!” exclaimed Leegh, losing his temper and -now speaking recklessly, for he was not yet quite sober. - -Mr. Campbell made no reply to these words. - -“Will you be good enough to explain yourself?” rudely demanded Leegh. - -“I have no explanation to make about myself. For any other questions you -would like to ask I must refer you to Mr. Randolph Hay himself.” - -“He is in a fine condition to answer questions, is he not, now? Look at -him!” said Leegh, pointing to the abject creature in the chair. - -The rector looked and sighed to see the human wreck. - -“Now, then, will you explain?” - -“No; I must still refer you to Mr. Randolph Hay.” - -“Confound your insolence!” between his grinding teeth. And then, aloud: -“You got my letter, I presume?” - -“Warning me to vacate the rectory?” - -“Of course. What else should I have written to you about?” - -“I got your letter.” - -“Well, I hope you are ready to go. Because I shall certainly enter into -possession on the first of January,” said Leegh rudely. - -“The rectory is even now quite ready for the new incumbent.” - -“I am glad to hear it, though I shall not care to take possession until -the first of January. And now, Mr. Campbell, excuse me for reminding you -that the hour is late, and suggesting that, as this is the evening of -Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay’s arrival, it would be in good form for -visitors to retire.” - -“Thank you: but I must speak to my host and hostess first.” - -At this moment Judy came up from some obscure part of the big room in -which she had been lurking like a frightened kitten. - -Mr. Campbell made room for her, and Judy sat down beside her friends. - -“Who is this young lady? Will you introduce me to her?” said Leegh with -one of his lady-killing smiles. - -“Excuse me, sir. I would rather not do so,” said Mr. Campbell. - -And then turning to Judy, who had looked up with surprise and pity, for -she could not bear to see any one pained or mortified, he added in -explanation: - -“No, my dear; I cannot do it.” - -Then, with a smothered imprecation, Leegh turned on his heel and -sauntered down the room to rejoin his sister, and feeling as if he were -in a very weird and ugly dream. - -In the meanwhile, however, Ran, Mike and Will Walling had been taking -counsel together, and often glancing from the stupefied figure of -Gentleman Geff, who still sat with blanched face, dropped jaw and -starting eyes, staring into vacancy, to that of Lamia Leegh, who -reclined on her chair with closed eyes and in a half-fainting condition. - -At length Ran from the pity of his heart said: - -“Walling, I cannot bear to expose that poor woman to the awful -humiliation of hearing the whole of that fellow’s villainies exposed. I -will go into the library and persuade her poor father to receive her in -there and save her from this trial. And do you go to her and break the -news of Mr. Legg’s presence in the house. You need tell her no more as -yet. The worst need not be told until later.” - -“Very well, I will do as you say. There is her precious brother talking -to Mr. Campbell. I wonder what he is saying,” said Will Walling as he -went up and stood beside the chair of Lamia Leegh. - -She never moved or opened her eyes. She did not seem to have perceived -his presence. He wished to address her, but hardly knew what name to -call her. If he should call her by her real name, or even by the name -she bore in New York before her marriage, it would startle and offend -her. It would seem a deliberate insult. If he should call her by Ran’s -name it would be by a false one. - -The last alternative, however, was the one on which he decided to act. -It could do no harm, he thought, to humor her delusion by calling her by -the name she honestly supposed to be hers by right of marriage. - -He laid his hand lightly on the back of her chair, stooped, and said -softly: - -“Mrs. Hay!” - -She started, opened her eyes, sat up and gazed at him. - -“I have startled you. I am sorry,” he said. - -“Mr. Walling! You here! In England! At Haymore!” she exclaimed, gazing -at him as if she could not turn away her eyes. - -“Yes, as you see!” he answered. - -“And we did not know you were coming. At least, I did not. And, oh! what -brought you here? I don’t mean to be rude, though the question seems a -rude one.” - -“It is a most natural one. I came—for a change,” replied Will Walling -evasively. - -“And when did you arrive?” - -“In England? Tuesday.” - -“And when did you come to Haymore?” - -“Late last night.” - -“You came straight here, then, expecting to find us at home, and found -no one to receive you—except the servants, of course. I hope they made -you comfortable. And, of course they told you that we were to be home -to-night.” - -“Yes, of course, thank you.” - -“I am so glad you are here. And, oh, Mr. Walling, since you are here, -will you please to tell me who all these strangers are and why they are -here, and what, oh! what has reduced my husband to that condition? He -looks as if he were struck with idiocy,” said Lamia with ill-concealed -scorn and hatred. - -Will Walling thought within himself that she would have little to suffer -from wounded affections, whatever she might have to endure from humbled -pride. Still, he pitied her, and answered gently: - -“That group on the sofa, to whom your brother is speaking, consists of -the Rev. Mr. Campbell, his wife and daughter, who are quite old friends -of Mr. Leegh.” - -Lamia had never heard the name of Jennie Montgomery’s parents. She -scrutinized the group, and then remarked: - -“That girl who is leaning on the elder woman’s shoulder reminds me -strongly of some one whom I have seen somewhere, but I cannot remember -where, for I cannot quite see her clearly at this distance. And who are -the other people in the room?” - -“They are all friends of Mr. Randolph Hay who knew him in California, -before he came into his estate.” - -“Oh, how interesting! And they came here to see him?” - -“Yes, and to give him a reception in his own house,” said Will Walling, -not quite truly. - -“Oh, how interesting! And, Mr. Walling, who is that pretty young woman -who has just gone up to the clergyman’s party?” - -“Some friend of the family. Here comes your brother. He has just left -the group. And before he comes, my dear Mrs. Hay, I must tell you that -there are others, or rather, there is one other person in this house in -whom you are more intimately interested than in all the rest,” said Will -Walling very gravely. - -Lamia looked a little disturbed. - -“Who can that be?” she inquired in a low, faltering voice. - -“Can you not surmise? Think what near relatives you have living.” - -“I—have no near relatives living—except my brother, and—my father.” - -“Your father is here, longing to see his only daughter.” - -“My father here? What has he come for?” demanded this Goneril in so -sharp a tone of displeasure and annoyance that Will Walling lost all -pity for her and spoke near his purpose when he answered: - -“He is waiting here in fatherly love and compassion, to be a shelter to -his only daughter in the hour of her utmost need.” - -Lamia turned deadly pale and sick. The words of the lawyer, taken -together with the awful exclamation of her husband before he fell into -his stupor, warned her that some terrible revelation was at hand. - -“Oh! this is some horrid nightmare!” she muttered. - -At this crisis the sauntering and unsteady steps of Mr. Leegh brought -him up to his sister’s side. - -“And now!” he exclaimed, “what is all this? And who the -dev—deuce—mischief are you, sir?” - -“Oh, Cassius!” cried Lamia in great excitement. “This is Mr. Walling, of -the firm of Walling & Walling, New York, of whom you have heard us -speak. There is something dreadful the matter that has gathered all -these people here. He tells me that our father is here also——” - -“The old man! What is the—what has brought him here?” demanded Leegh in -as sharp a tone as his sister had used. - -Will Walling was as much disgusted with the one as with the other. He -answered the question: - -“Your father is here, Mr. Leegh, to succor his daughter in her distress. -Presently I shall ask you, her brother, to lead her to your father’s -presence.” - -“It is my husband. My beast of a husband! What has he been doing! Oh, -Heaven! I heard him say something about murder, and I thought it was -only his drunken raving. Has he committed murder, then, and will he be -hanged? If so, I will never show my face in England or New York again!” -exclaimed Lamia, losing all decent self-control and becoming hysterical, -not from anxious affection, but from alarmed pride. - -“Compose yourself, madam. There is no murder on his hands. There is -nothing but what you may get over in the peace of your father’s house,” -said Will Walling. - -“Why cannot you tell me what it is, then?” demanded Lamia, breaking into -sobs and tears. - -“Yes! why the mischief can’t you speak out?” - -“Because I gave my word not to do so. Because, in any case, I would not -do so. Because it is not even proper that I should. And, finally, -because it is best that your sister should hear what she must from her -father.” - -“It is a nightmare! A horrid, hideous nightmare!” cried Lamia, sobbing -violently. - -“When are we to hear this news, whatever it may be—this mystery, this -calamity—from the old gentleman?” roughly demanded Leegh. - -“When the gentleman who is with him now comes out to tell us that your -father is ready to receive you,” replied Will Walling. - -“By ——! Upon my honor, you are very cool, sir,” sneered Leegh. - -“It is a nightmare! A ghastly, deadly nightmare!” wailed Lamia. - -“It it the day of doom, and the quick and the dead rise in judgment!” -groaned a deep, hollow voice. - -It was that of Gentleman Geff. His rolling eyes had fallen upon a group -composed of Mike, Dandy and Longman, and he sat staring in horror upon -them. - -“That drunken idiot ought to be carried up to bed, Lamia,” said Leegh in -strong disgust. - -“I will not have him touched,” replied the woman, with a shudder. - -In the meantime Randolph Hay had crossed the hall and turned the knob of -the library door. He found it locked. Then he rapped. - -“Who is there?” inquired the quavering voice of John Legg. - -“It is I, your friend, Hay,” replied Ran. - -The door was instantly opened by Julia Legg. - -“Please excuse us and come in, Mr. Hay. We only locked the door to keep -that terrible man from bursting in upon us,” said Julia apologetically. - -“Quite right,” replied Ran, good-humoredly, as he entered the room. - -He found John Legg still sitting at the narrow table from which the -little supper had not yet been removed. The poor man looked pale, -haggard, anxious and many years older than he had seemed a few hours -before. - -Ran also took the precaution to lock the door before he came and seated -himself at the table opposite John Legg. Julia drew a chair to the side -of her husband, sat down and took his hands in hers. - -“You look troubled, Mr. Hay. You have something more to tell me about my -poor girl, and you shrink from telling it. But speak out, sir. I can -bear it,” said John Legg, with stoical resignation. - -“No, indeed, my friend, it is nothing more that I have to communicate of -her; at least, nothing ill. I came in here only, to plead for a little -change in our plans,” said Ran soothingly. - -“What is it, dear sir? Your kind will should be our law.” - -“By no means!” earnestly exclaimed Ran. “But the change I wished to make -is this: You remember that you proposed to keep out of your daughter’s -way until she should have heard the worst that she must hear of her real -position?” - -“Yes. I shrank, and still shrink, from adding to her pain and -mortification by my presence,” sighed the unhappy father. - -“But, my dear Mr. Legg, consider for one moment. She has not yet heard -the humiliating facts, but it is absolutely necessary that she should -hear them to-night. Now is it not better that she should hear them from -your lips than from mine or from my lawyer’s? Would she not suffer less -to have the truth told her gently here, in private, by the lips of her -father, than out there, in public, by the lips of a stranger?” - -While Ran spoke John Legg sat with his gray head bowed upon his hands in -deep, sorrowful reflection, and when Ran ceased to speak the poor father -made no reply. - -“What do you think about this, Mr. Legg?” gently persisted Ran. - -“I don’t know! I don’t know!” moaned the old man in a heartbroken tone. -“What do you say, Julia?” he piteously inquired, raising his head and -appealing to his wife. - -She took his hand again, and looking tenderly in his troubled face, -answered gravely: - -“I think, John, indeed, I think, that you had better do as Mr. Hay -advises. It would be dreadful for that poor girl to hear of her -misfortune facing all those people in there! And you know the man who -betrayed her and committed countless other crimes must be exposed in -public and then expelled from the house.” - -Julia Legg spoke as she thought, but, in fact, Ran had no intention of -turning the wretch in question out of doors in this freezing winter -night. - -“Julia, my dear, I have such confidence in your judgment that I will do -as you say,” replied John Legg in a low voice. Then turning to Ran, he -said: - -“Mr. Hay, I am deeply grateful to you for all the aid and comfort and -counsel you give me. You may, sir, if you please, bring or send my poor -child to me.” - -“I will do so at once,” said Ran, and he arose and left the room. - -“And I will stand by you through all, John. I will be as good a mother -to your unhappy girl as I am a true wife to you,” said Julia, still -holding his hand in hers. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - FATHER AND DAUGHTER - - -And so they waited in suspense for a few moments until the door opened -and Mr. Leegh entered, as usual, with his head thrown back, his nose in -the air, and his sister on his arm. His head was bowed upon her breast, -and her face was pale and her eyes red and swollen. - -John Legg arose and went to meet her with trembling nerves and -outstretched arms. He was but a little over fifty years of age, yet for -the last few hours he looked to be over seventy. - -“My dear, dear Lyddy! My own poor child!” he said, drawing her to his -breast and holding her there, while he put out his hand to his son and -said: - -“How do you do, Clay?” - -“I am well, sir, thank you. How do you do yourself?” inquired the -dutiful son in an offhand, nonchalant manner. - -“As you see me, Clay. Not very well,” replied the grieved father, as he -sank into a large cushioned chair that his wife had pushed up to him, -and drew his daughter down upon his lap with her head against his -shoulder, where she lay sobbing her soul forth in pride and anger—not in -love or sorrow. She had not spoken one word as yet since she entered the -room. - -Clay Legg, as we must henceforth call him, because it is his only right -name, threw himself into another armchair and said: - -“I am told, sir, that you have something to communicate to us.” - -“Yes, I have, Clay. Do not cry so. Lyddy, my dear. I will stand by you. -Your father will stand by his daughter, and love her and comfort her, -and shelter and protect her against all the world,” he said, turning -away from his insolent son and bending over his wildly hysterical -daughter. - -“Well, sir,” said Mr. Clay Legg, “since you have something to -communicate, hadn’t you better communicate it?” - -“Yes,” replied his father, with a sigh. - -“But first,” exclaimed Clay Legg, “here is a stranger present. Are we to -discuss private family affairs before a stranger? And who is that -person, anyway?” he demanded, jerking his thumb in the direction of Mrs. -Legg, who had retired to a short distance and where she sat down. - -“Oh, I ought to beg her pardon! For the moment I forgot. Julia, my love, -will you step this way?” - -Mrs. Legg came promptly at her husband’s request, and stood before the -group. - -“My dear Julia, this young man here is my son, Clay, whom you have never -seen before. Clay, this is Mrs. Legg, my wife, your new mother. I hope -you will be the best of friends!” pleaded the husband and father. - -“Indeed, I hope so, too!” earnestly responded the new wife, as she held -out her hand with hearty good will to her stepson. - -He drew himself up stiffly and bowed, ignoring her offered hand. - -John Legg noticed his manner and frowned with pain, not anger, and to -cover the awkwardness, said: - -“And this weeping girl on my bosom is my daughter, Lydia! She cannot -speak to you yet, my dear. She has not even spoken to me, her father, -whom she has not seen before for the last three years! But she will be -better presently, and then I feel sure that you and she at least will be -good friends.” - -“Yes, indeed, John! I know we shall!” heartily responded Julia. - -“Now sit down, my dear, and make yourself comfortable. You already know -that I have a painful revelation to make to my son and daughter here; -but as the misfortune to be spoken of was caused by no conscious -complicity of theirs, it should not cause either of them too much grief, -I think.” - -“No, indeed! It was not their fault, so they should not mourn over it,” -warmly assented Julia. - -“See here, sir! Are you going to discuss private family matters in the -presence of this person?” demanded Clay Legg. - -“‘This person,’ sir, is my beloved wife. I have no secrets from her. She -already knows as much as I do myself, and as much as I have to tell -you,” replied John Legg, speaking for the first time with some severity. - -“Tell me one thing, if you please, sir.” - -“What is that?” - -“Am I personally concerned in what you are about to communicate in the -presence of a stranger?” - -“No, not personally—not at all interested except through your sister.” - -“Then that is her concern. If she choose——” And he turned on his heel -and left his sentence unfinished. - -“You had better let me go, John, dear, if the young people object to my -presence during this interview,” said Julia gently. - -“My daughter, do you object to my wife’s presence here while I make the -revelation of which she knows the whole nature?” whispered John Legg to -the agonized girl on his bosom. - -“Oh! why should I object to anything? I know—before you tell me—that -your dreadful news—concerns some crime of my wretched husband! If not a -murder, that would hang him, then a forgery or some other felony that -will send him to penal servitude, and will, in any case, be known all -over England to-morrow. Let whom you like hear the horrid story,” -replied the woman. - -When she first began to speak she gasped and panted, but as she went on -she gained more command over her voice. - -Julia Legg was full of pity for this ungracious creature, and she came -and knelt down beside her husband’s chair, and took his daughter’s hand -in hers and kissed it, murmuring softly: - -“Believe me, oh! believe me! I will do all in my power to lighten any -trouble you may have, and to make you comfortable and contented, if not -happy.” - -Lamia—as we must continue to call her because that is the name by which -the reader has known her from the first—Lamia drew her hand away from -the kindly hands that clasped it, and Julia Legg, with a sigh, arose and -resumed her seat. - -“My own dear daughter, before I tell you anything more I must remind you -again that in my heart and in my home you have a haven of peace and -love, of rest and safety from all the storms of life. Do you not know -and feel this, my daughter?” - -“Oh, yes; you are my father, and that is understood,” she answered -coldly, as if a parent’s boundless love, pity and forgiveness were such -mere matters of course that they needed no recognition. “But I wish you -would tell me at once, and be done with it. What has my miserable -husband, Randolph Hay, done?” she demanded. - -John Legg sighed deeply. He did not think “how sharper than a serpent’s -tooth it is to have a thankless child,” because he had never seen the -lines, but he sighed more than once as he answered: - -“In the first place, my daughter, your miserable husband, as you call -him, is not Randolph Hay, and has not a shadow of a right to that name -or to the estate of Haymore.” - -Lamia started up and looked her father in the face. - -“Who and what is he, then?” she fiercely demanded. - -“An adventurer with many aliases; a fraudulent claimant of the Haymore -estates, who has sustained his false position by robbery, forgery and -perjury, but who has been recently detected, and who is about to be -exposed and punished.” - -“I am not surprised! I am not surprised! I expected something like this! -I did! I did! Tell me, does Mr. Will Walling know anything about it?” - -“He knows all about it. His business in England is to bring that man to -justice.” - -Lamia sprang from her father’s arms, throwing him suddenly back by the -violence of her motion, and began to walk wildly up and down the floor, -exclaiming and gesticulating like a maniac, and thinking only of herself -and of her own interests, and of no one and nothing else under the sun. - -“To bring me to this! Oh, the villain! the villain! But I will have -nothing more to do with him! I will never speak to him again! I will -never look on his face again! Do you hear me, papa?” she cried, suddenly -pausing, with flashing eyes, before her father’s chair. “Do you hear me, -I say? I will never live with that felon again—never speak to him—never -look at him!” - -“My child, you are quite right in your resolution. It would be wrong and -even criminal in you to do otherwise,” said John Legg, gently drawing -his daughter into his arms again and adding sorrowfully, “for I have -something more to tell you.” - -“You could not tell me anything more shameful than you have already told -me! Even if you should prove that that villain had been a murderer, as -well as a robber, forger and perjurer, it would not be worse, since -hanging is no more disgraceful than penal servitude. To be the wife of a -felon—the wife of a convict! But I will not be! I will be separated by -law! I will be divorced!” - -This she repeated over so often and with so much excitement that at last -her father said to her: - -“My poor child, you will not need to appeal to the law.” - -“What do you mean?” she demanded, impressed by the solemnity of his -manner. - -“You will not require a divorce,” he replied. - -“That is just, in effect, what you said before. Why will I not require a -divorce? The man is not dead, nor going to die! He will not commit -suicide. No, indeed, trust him for that! He is too great a coward! And -he is in no danger of being hanged. How, then, should you say that I -will not require a divorce, since death is not likely to relieve me of -my felon husband—ugh!” she exclaimed in strong disgust. - -“My dear, the man has never been your husband,” he said slowly and -distinctly. - -“What?” she cried, aghast. - -“The man has never been your husband!” he repeated firmly and solemnly. - -“You are mad! We are all mad together, I think! What—under—heaven—do you -mean?” she cried, staring at him with starting eyes. - -“This man, under his true name of Kightly Montgomery, married Jennie -Campbell, the daughter of the curate of Medge, in Hantz, more than two -years before he ever saw your face. His wife is living now. She is in -the drawing-room across the hall. My wife Julia here knows all about -this first marriage.” - -While John Legg spoke his daughter stared as if her eyes would have -started from out their sockets. Then suddenly she sprang up and rushed -across the room to the side where her brother sat with one leg crossed -over the other, his head thrown back, and his hands clasped above it, -his face wearing a cynical expression. - -She paused before him, her eyes flaming. - -“Cassius!” she said in a voice half choked with raging hatred and -longing revenge. “Cassius, do you hear what papa has said? Do you hear -that your sister has been deceived, betrayed by the basest of dastards -and criminals! Cassius, kill that man! kill him! kill him! kill him!” - -Clay Legg burst into a low, cynical laugh. - -“Don’t let us be tragic, whatever we are, Lyddy. It is a pity you have -been such a fool as to be so easily taken in. A greater pity that you -should have brought discredit on your family. But you are not the first -woman who has ever been fooled and laughed at. But as for me getting -into a broil with the fellow on your account—no, thank you! It would be -unbecoming to the cloth, and get me into trouble with the bishop. And as -to killing him! Do you really think I propose to do murder and get -myself hanged for your folly? No, thank you, I say again! You had better -go and hide yourself down in the greengrocer’s shop at Medge along with -papa and stepmamma, while I shall leave the country where my sister’s -conduct has made it impossible for me to hold up my head and look -honorable men in the face.” - -While this brutal brother spoke his sister stood before him pallid, -staring and biting her lip until the blood flowed. - -“Shame on you, dastard, to speak to the unhappy girl in such a manner! -Leave the room, sir!” said John Legg, rising and opening the library -door. - -“I did not want to come in here at first, and I am very glad to get -out,” retorted Clay Legg, with an insulting laugh, as he walked off. - -John Legg shut the door after him and then turned to his miserable -daughter. She had thrown herself down on a sofa, where she lay with her -face in her hands. - -He kneeled beside her and laid his hand on her head, murmuring softly: - -“You must content yourself with our love and our poor home. These are -yours forever. You have tried other love and found it fail you. Paternal -love never fails,” he continued, and while he spoke he did not cease to -smooth and caress her head with his hand. - -“And to think,” she moaned in a muffled voice, with her face downward -and hidden with her hands; “to think it was his deserted wife that I -shopped for in the last days before my marriage with him—that it was his -deserted wife with her child—his child—that came over in the same -steamer with him and myself on our bridal trip! Ah! now I know why he -got off the ship at Queenstown! It was to get out of her sight and to -avoid encountering her father who was to meet her at Liverpool. She was -his lawful wife, and knew it, and she knew then that I was—what was -I?—what am I? Oh! I shall go mad! mad! mad!” she shrieked, flinging off -her fathers hand, springing from the sofa, clasping her head between her -palms and walking wildly up and down the floor. - -“My dear, dear child, don’t go on like this! Come and sit down. Try to -compose yourself,” pleaded poor John Legg, walking after his daughter. - -“Oh, hold your tongue! Let me alone! Don’t I know what you are thinking -in your heart all this time? You are saying to yourself that this is -just what you always expected! Just what I deserved! You are glad of it -in your heart! Glad to see me punished! Glad to see me mortified!” she -cried fiercely, angry with her father because she was angry with -herself, her betrayer and all the world. - -“My dear Lyddy! My darling girl! I know you are not accountable for what -you say now. I blame you for nothing, child, not even for your words. I -could not have the cruelty to do it. But try to compose yourself and -believe that we love you and will serve you and comfort you! Lyddy, my -daughter, we cannot offer you the wealth and grandeur and luxuries that -you have been lately used to, but, my dear, a safe home and solid -comforts, and peaceful days and family affection you shall not lack, my -girl—you shall never lack,” pleaded her father; and while he spoke he -followed her up and down with outstretched arms ready to infold her, up -and down, pleading with her, turning when she turned until at length she -whirled around upon him and hissed at him through her set teeth, her -hard words dropping like leaden bullets from the mold: - -“Will—you—mind—your—own—business? I am of age! I thought I was Mrs. -Randolph Hay, of Haymore! Lady of the manor here! I entered this house -as its lawful mistress! For what? To find myself deceived, betrayed, -entrapped! Now what am I! Something that must not even be named to -respectable ears like yours!” - -“Oh, my dear child! To me you are my wronged and blameless daughter! -Well, rave on! I cannot help it, though it cuts my heart like a sword! -Maybe it relieves you to talk like this. But presently I hope you will -take thought and come home with me to be comforted,” pleaded John Legg. - -Lamia burst into a cruel, sarcastic laugh. - -“The greengrocer’s house on Market Street, Medge, of course, would be a -perfect paradise to me! I can imagine the back parlor full of the -fragrance of onions, leeks and other garden stuff from the shop, and -enlivened with the music of the bell every time a customer opened the -door! Not any for me, please! I may go on the stage, or on the -street—why should I care where I go, what I do, or how I end—after -this—so that I enjoy the pride of life in my prime?” she demanded, -looking at the plain, good man before her with a cruel, sarcastic sneer. - -He held out his arm to her, with a prayer in every look and gesture. He -even ventured to lay his hand on her in tender compassion, but she broke -away from him and resumed her wild walk. - -Then he sank into an armchair beside him—he could follow her no -further—and dropped his head upon his hands. - -His wife Julia came to his side. - -She has longed to go to him while he was following and pleading with his -daughter, and getting nothing from her but insult for love. She had -longed to lead him away from the ungracious and unseemly strife with -evil and to say to him: “Leave the thankless and reckless woman to -herself to recover her senses, if she ever had any, and come with me and -rest.” But—she was a stepmother only to the willful girl, and she must -not interfere between father and daughter. - -But now that he sat alone in the collapse of despair after fruitless -effort, bowed down, down with sorrow and wounded affection, she came to -him, put her hand on his shoulder, laid her cheek lightly on his gray -head and murmured words of comfort. - -“You have been very, very patient with her, dear, and you were so right! -She has had a terrible blow to her pride, such as even the best of women -could not bear with patience. How then should she?” - -“Cruel words from one’s child, my dear! Cruel words!” said the suffering -father, shaking his head without lifting it. - -“She was crazed by grief and shame. She did not mean what she said. She -did not even know what she said—did not know it rightly, I mean! When -she comes to her senses, John, she will be more sorry and ashamed of her -conduct to you than she is now of her downfall, and she will be grateful -for your love and Christ-like patience with her. Her present mood is -hysteria—frenzy! Give her time!” - -“She threatened to go on the stage or on the street!” exclaimed John, -uttering the last three words with a deep groan. - -“She does rave worse than any other hysterical woman I ever heard, to be -sure, for, as a rule, they only threaten to ‘go mad’ or to ‘kill’; but -it is all raving! there’s nothing in it! You have been very patient and -forbearing with your willful and provoking girl in this time of her -suffering and excitement. Continue to be so, and you will have your -reward in her penitence and affection. Believe it, dear.” - -“‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’” quoted John Legg. “Come and draw a -chair and sit by me, Julia, my dear. Your presence alone is very -calming, even when you do not speak, though your words are always good -and comforting and your voice sweet and pleasant.” - -Julia Legg seated herself beside her husband and took his hand in hers. - -Lamia, having exhausted herself by her fury, fell down again upon the -sofa and buried her face in the cushions. - -And now in the silence that ensued John Legg became conscious of a -growing disturbance in the drawing-room. - -This might have been going on some time unnoticed by the three persons -in the library, who were absorbed in their own trouble; but now the -disturbance on the opposite side of the hall was too evident to be -ignored. - -The sound of angry voices, hurrying steps and struggling forms reached -their ears. - -Lamia started up from her sofa and sat with her head bent forward, -staring in the direction of the noise and listening intently, with a -look of demoniacal satisfaction and expectancy on her face. - -Julia cowered and clung for protection to the husband whom she herself -had just been comforting. - -He patted her head to reassure her, and then said: - -“There, let me go, dear, and see what is the matter in there,” gently -trying to release himself from her clasp. - -“Oh, no, no!” cried Julia, clinging closer than before. “Pray, don’t -leave us, John! Don’t go into that room! Something dreadful is going on -there.” - -At that moment a piercing shriek rang through the air, followed by a -heavy fall that shook the house. - -“I cannot stand this! Julia, I cannot stand it! I tell you I must run -and prevent mischief if I can!” he urged earnestly, trying to free -himself from her strong arms, but finding that he could not do so -without using force and violence that must hurt her. - -The confusion arose to uproar. A loud crash shivered on the floor, and a -peal of fiendish laughter resounded through the building, and a woman’s -agonized cry went up to heaven for help! - -Lamia, sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, listening intently, now -broke into a low, demoniacal chuckle. - -“Julia!” exclaimed John Legg, breathing hard through excitement. “I hate -to hurt you, but I must prevent murder.” - -And he wrenched her arms from around his neck, threw her back in the -armchair and rushed from the library to the drawing-room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - A TERRIBLE SCENE - - -We must now explain the cause of the parlor storm. It came on in this -way: - -All the guests of Haymore Hall—with the exception of the Legg family in -the library—were still assembled in the drawing-room. - -The Campbell party, father, mother and daughter, still occupied the -obscure sofa against the rear wall of the back division. - -Judy and Will Walling were seated near, talking with them. - -Dandy, Mike and Longman were standing on the rug before the fire, -exchanging confidences on the affairs of the evening. - -Gentleman Geff reclined, stupidly staring, on a divan in the recess of -the front bay window, and occasionally drew from his pocket a large -flask, which, with trembling hands, he uncorked and put to his lips. - -Ran walked about from one group of friends to another, trying to seem at -ease, but too surely in a state of intense anxiety. - -Presently he took heart of grace and went up to the group on the sofa, -touched the Rev. James Campbell on the shoulder and said: - -“Come with me, please, reverend sir; I wish to consult you.” - -The rector arose and drew the arm of his host within his own and walked -away with him. They did not leave the drawing-room, but went slowly up -and down its length for the first few minutes in silence. - -Ran did not seem to know how to open the subject he had on his mind. So -it was the rector, after all, who, probably divining the nature of his -friend’s difficulty, was the first to speak and to speak to the point. - -“The hour is late, and something should be done with that——” He paused, -unwilling to use the words that arose to his lips, and he indicated the -inebriate by a movement of his thumb. - -“Yes,” said Ran, “that is what puzzles me. It was of that I wished to -talk with you.” - -“Go on then! Let me have your views. It is late, as I remarked before, -and I should have taken my wife and daughter home an hour ago, but that -I did not wish to leave you until something should be settled in regard -to this man.” - -“But you will not leave us to-night? Rooms have already been prepared -for you!” exclaimed Ran. - -“My dear young friend, I thank you heartily, for myself and my -womenkind, but we must return to the rectory to-night. My daughter has -left her young babe there,” replied the rector. - -“But it is so late.” - -“But the distance is so short.” - -“Do oblige us by staying, Mr. Campbell.” - -“My dear Mr. Hay, don’t you see it is impossible, much as I thank you?” - -“Well, I am sorry. So will Judy be.” - -“And now about the disposition of this—Montgomery?” - -“Yes,” sighed Randolph Hay. - -“What do you intend to do?” - -“I do not know, sir. I want you to tell me, if you please. I might send -for a constable to take him to the lockup house, as they call it here; -but I do not like to do that. I might send him in a carriage to the -village tavern, but I think he would drink himself to death there; or I -might give him a bed here for the present, and indeed this is what I -would rather do.” - -“Eh—what? Keep the fellow here?” - -“For the present, yes.” - -“And in the name of common sense—why?” - -“Well, to keep him out of harm’s way.” - -“My good young friend, you did well to take counsel with me. You would -have done well to take counsel of any sane man on such a subject.” - -“Why, what do you mean?” - -“I begin to suspect that you need a trustee for your estate and a -guardian for your person!” - -“I don’t understand you!” - -“Listen, then! That fellow deserves to go to prison. He might be sent to -the village inn. But, my friend, he must not be allowed to spend so much -as one night under your roof. To let him do so would be an act of -insanity.” - -“But why?” - -“For more reasons than one. In the first place, he is the fraudulent -claimant of your name and estate, though his claim will not bear an -instant of light, a ray of truth, let in upon it; yet your allowing him -to remain in the house to which he came as its pretended master, would -seem, to him at least, to be giving some color to his pretensions. Do -you see?” - -“I see what you mean, but I am not afraid of anything he, poor wretch, -may think or say or do. Is there any other reason why he should not be -sheltered here?” - -“Yes—not so strong a reason, to be sure; but a most decent one.” - -“Well?” - -“He is a bigamist. He came here bringing a cruelly deceived, falsely -married woman, who was never, therefore, wife or bride. She, not ‘Mrs.’ -anybody, but Miss Legg, is here in your house under the charge of her -parents, who are your guests. Therefore it would be unseemly—to use the -mildest term—for him to remain under the same roof. Do you see now?” - -“Oh, yes, I see. How oblique one’s vision is at times, however. Well, -Mr. Campbell, you have told me what I must not do with him; will you now -tell me what I may?” - -“Certainly. If your merciful spirit shrinks from passing him over into -the hands of the law, you can have him put into a carriage and taken to -the village inn—‘The Red Fox,’ Giles Scroggins, host.” - -“I will do so, and hold myself responsible for his expenses there,” said -Randolph Hay. - -And then both men looked toward the divan in the front bay window, on -which lolled Gentleman Geff, very drunk and getting drunker every -instant, for he now had the big flask turned up to his mouth, with his -head thrown so far back that he was evidently draining the last drop of -its contents. When he had done so, he made a futile attempt to restore -the empty flask to his pocket, but instead let it fall to the floor, -while he dropped back into his lolling position. - -It was at this moment that Clay Legg strode into the drawing-room, fresh -from his humiliating interview with his father, smarting under the -disclosure of his sister’s dishonor. - -He strode past all the guests in his way, and straight up to the side of -his late friend and patron, Gentleman Geff, struck his hand heavily on -the drunkard’s shoulder, shook him roughly and said: - -“Do you know, you brute! you devil! what is before you?” - -Gentleman Geff opened his heavy red eyes and stared in a deep stupor, -through which fury began to kindle slowly, like flame from under a thick -smoke. - -“Answer me, you beast!” demanded Legg, with another and rougher shake of -the wretch under his grasp. “Do you know what is before you?” - -“No! nor care!” roared the madman, with a perfect stream of profanity -and obscenity. - -“Then listen to me!” said Legg, when at length the torrent from Tartarus -was stayed. “What is before you is first a trial for bigamy, with -fourteen years of penal serviture, with hard labor, bread and water, -ball and chain, dark cell and frequent flogging thrown in!” - -Gentleman Geff answered this by a glare of hatred and defiance and -another inundation from the River of Styx. - -Legg waited until that flood was exhausted and then added: - -“Nor is that all! For when your first term of penal servitude shall be -served out, another indictment will await you for conspiracy, perjury, -forgery and fraud, by which you sought to gain possession of the Haymore -estate, and another fourteen years, at least, of imprisonment, hard -labor, stripes, chains and the rest!” - -Again Gentleman Geff opened his lips in a way that made his mouth seem -the opening of the pit of fire and brimstone for the blasting curses -that issued from it. - -And again Legg waited in sarcastic silence until the smoke and flame had -sunk down, and then he added: - -“If you should live through your second term you will have served -twenty-eight years and you will be near sixty years of age—a very -hoary-headed sinner, indeed! And yet, at the end of that time, the -United States will want you on a charge of highway robbery and attempted -murder, and will get you under the international extradition treaty. And -you will pass the remainder of your guilty life in an American prison, -where not only are the strong and rebellious criminals compelled to -labor, but the aged, the infirm, and the invalids are scourged and -driven to hard work, until they drop dead (if all tales be true). ‘Do -you like the picture?’” - -A blast of fury, profanity and indecency, more diabolical than all that -bad preceded it, stormed from the mouth of the madman, and raved like a -whirlwind around the ears of the listener. - -When this had died of its own frenzy, Legg spoke again and for the last -time. - -“Do you know, you fiend, who are here? I will tell you! The witnesses -who will convict you of every crime known to mankind. There on the sofa, -at the opposite end of this room, a little in the shadow, sits your -wife, Jennie Montgomery, whom you married, deserted and afterward -stabbed, and left for dead in the streets in New York. There she sits -between her mother and father, all three bent on prosecuting you to the -full extent of the law! Look attentively and you will see them! There, -talking with Lawyer Walling, is Randolph Hay, your benefactor, who saved -you from starving and shared his hut with you in the mining camp of -Grizzly Gulch, and whom you robbed, tried to murder and left for dead in -the Black Woods of California so that you might claim his name and place -with impunity! He will be compelled to prosecute you! And across the -hall, in the library with her father, is the woman you deceived into a -false marriage. She will prosecute you with all the vim, venom and -virulence of a proud, outraged and revengeful woman. That is, if she -does not prefer to execute you with her own hands.” - -Clay Legg should have known the dangerous wild beast he was goading to -madness, yet he went on with a strange fatuity. - -Gentleman Geff had followed with his eyes the index of Clay Legg to the -distant sofa, on which sat the wronged wife, Jennie Montgomery, between -her father and her mother. He had slowly but surely recognized her, -stared at her in stupid dismay until he was again stung to fury by the -insulting words of Clay Legg, when he turned his kindling eyes on the -face of the man who was drawing such a degrading picture of his fate. It -seemed then that it only needed the cessation of the sound of the -speaker’s voice to break the spell that held the demoniac; for no sooner -had it ceased than he sprang to his feet with a terrible roar and hurled -himself toward Legg. - -But the latter saw his peril with the speed of lightning and fled away, -leaving others to brave the storm he himself had raised. - -In an instant the maniac was raging in the midst of “the goodlie -company,” and all was fear, panic and confusion. - -Little Mike, unhappily, was nearest to the madman and first to attempt -to pacify him. But the demon caught up a heavy astral lamp from the -table nearest to him and shivered it upon the head of the willing -peacemaker, who fell like a slaughtered sheep. - -Judy’s shrieks of agony rang out upon the air, and brought the terrified -servants to the drawing-room doors. - -The demoniac sprang upon the table and seized a heavy chair, which he -whirled around his head, threatening all who approached. - -Ran and Longman sprang upon the table and threw themselves upon him. - -It was at this moment that John Legg, startled by the screams of the -women, entered the drawing-room, through the side door leading from the -hall. - -Yes, it was pandemonium that met the horror-stricken eyes of the man. -Can I possibly show you the scene as he beheld it? - -As he stood in the doorway, on his left, near the bay window in the -upper end of the room, high on the table stood the athletic form of the -demoniac, raging and foaming, cursing and threatening in the frenzy of -_mania a potu_, swinging aloft the heavy chair which he whirled around -his head with the swiftness and velocity of a windmill. On the same -table stood Samson Longman and Randolph Hay, struggling to master the -maniac, who seemed possessed of the strength of seven devils. - -On the floor, near the middle of the room, lay Michael Man, stunned by a -wound in his head, prostrate and insensible. Near him were scattered the -fragments of the astral lamp that had evidently been the instrument by -which his skull had been fractured. Beside him sat Judith Hay, with his -wounded head on her lap. She was weeping and wailing, giving full vent -to her grief and horror after the manner of her warm-hearted, impulsive -race. Beside him on the opposite side knelt the Rev. Mr. Campbell, with -a bowl of water and a napkin, washing the blood from the cut. - -Away back in the lower end of the long room, on a shady sofa, sat Mrs. -Campbell and her daughter, Jennie Montgomery, clasped in each other’s -arms, with their heads hidden on each other’s shoulders, too much -shocked, horror-stricken, terrified to help, to speak or even to move. -From under the same sofa peered the pallid face and staring eyes of -Dandy Quin, who had evidently sought that lowly refuge “as the safest -place at the crack of doom” for a poor little old man. - -Neither Clay Legg nor Will Walling were to be seen anywhere. - -All this, which has required some time to describe, was taken in at one -view by John Legg. And for one instant he stood in doubt where first to -offer help; whether to jump—but no; honest John’s jumping days were -over—whether to scramble up on the table and help to subdue the maniac -possessed of a legion of devils, or to kneel down by the side of the -minister to serve if he could the wounded man. In another moment the -doubt was decided for him. - -Ran succeeded in getting both his hands around the throat of the -demoniac, which he held as in the grip of death, while Longman wrenched -and twisted the heavy, murderous missile from his hands and dropped it -on the floor and then closed with him in a conquering clasp. But it took -all his strength, as well as all of Ran’s, to hold the infuriate, now -that his arms were free. - -Feeling sure that the maniac was conquered, John Legg turned his -attention from the scene of conquest on the table to the scene of -suffering on the carpet. - -“Is the young man dangerously wounded?” he inquired in a low tone of Mr. -Campbell. - -“We hope not. We hope this may be only a scalp wound. But it will be -impossible to tell until there is a surgical examination,” replied the -minister. - -“Has a doctor been sent for?” - -“Yes; Mr. Walling has gone out to dispatch a servant for Mr. Hobbs, the -village practitioner.” - -“Oh, me poor Mike!” cried Judy, breaking afresh into sobs and tears and -dialect. “Me poor, dear, darlint bhoy! Sure he was born to have the head -av him broke. Sure, it’s not the first time, though it’s the worst. But, -afther all, it is not so bad broke as me own dear Ran’s was, be the same -token, and be the hands av that same murthering thaif av the wurruld! -Oh! wirra! wirra! It was not enough that he kilt me dear Ran intirely, -but now he must kill me poor Mike!” wailed Judy until her words were -drowned in a flood of tears. - -Mr. Campbell gazed in astonishment for a moment. In this wild Irish -girl, giving full swing to her emotions and her brogue, he could -scarcely recognize the quiet gentlewoman he had known now for some hours -as Mrs. Randolph Hay. But he quickly recovered himself, and atoned for -his involuntary rudeness by withdrawing his gaze and offering the -gentlest words of consolation. - -In the meantime the struggle on the table was continued in grim silence. -The opponents saving all their wind for their strife until, as they -swayed back and forth, the equilibrium of the board was overbalanced, -and table and men fell together to the floor with a loud crash that -called forth shrieks from the women. - -For one moment the three men rolled together in a knot on the carpet, -and the next Gentleman Geff lay flat on his back, with Longman’s knees -on his chest and hands around his throat. - -“Ran!” exclaimed the hunter, “take my handkerchief out of my coat pocket -and tie the feet of this wild beast!” - -Ran immediately tried to obey. He drew the large red bandanna from -Longman’s pocket, found it strong enough for its purpose, and went -around and took hold of the feet of the prostrate madman, but he -immediately received a shower of kicks upon his chest that knocked him -breathless. - -Seeing that, Longman raised his voice again. - -“Mr. Legg, come here! We haven’t got a man to deal with, but a devil, -and a rum-maddened devil at that!” - -Legg immediately rushed to the rescue. - -“Have you got a scarf or a handkerchief? A good strong one. All right! -Tie this brute’s fore paws together while I hold him down. Samson, my -namesake, what amazing strength rum and madness gives a brute!” panted -Longman, when he had finished his labor and arose to his feet. - -The conquered demoniac lay bound and gagged on the floor, his murderous -limbs helpless, his blasphemous tongue speechless. Yet still he writhed, -tossed and floundered like some huge, stranded sea monster. - -The distressed group gathered around Michael Man were obliged to wait in -quietness for the arrival of the doctor, for they dared not even move -the wounded man lest they should do him a fatal injury. - -Dr. Hobbs came at last, and being a country practitioner, he brought his -medicine chest as well as his surgical case with him. - -He was a tall, lank, red-haired young Yorkshireman, fresh from the -London colleges, who had lately succeeded to the practice of his father, -an aged, retired physician of the place. - -He found two patients to be treated, one in as dire need as the other. - -But after hearing a brief account of the occurrence from Mr. Randolph -Hay, he gave his first services to the youth, Michael Man. - -The bleeding wound in his head was of itself bringing back the -consciousness of the wounded lad. - -Dr. Hobbs knelt by his side and made a careful examination of his -injuries, and then he told the anxious friends that they were not -dangerous, only a deep scalp wound and a very slight fracture of the -skull. - -He washed and dressed the wound there on the spot, and then directed -that the youth should be taken to his room, undressed and put to bed. - -A narrow mattress was brought by two menservants, who laid it on the -carpet, lifted the wounded youth tenderly, laid him on it and so bore -him out of the drawing-room and up the grand staircase to his chamber on -the third floor, followed by Dr. Hobbs and Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay. - -By the time Michael Man was carefully undressed and comfortably settled -in bed he recovered his faculties sufficiently to recognize the -situation and speak to those around him. - -“Don’t ye be frighted, Judy, darlint,” he murmured feebly to his pallid, -distressed sister, who was bending anxiously over him. - -“Sure, and I’m not, Mike, dear. Yourself will be all right soon,” she -replied, putting much constraint upon herself. - -“Troth, and I’m all right now. So the redskins did come and attack the -fort, afther all. But the colonel was aquil to the blackguards,” he -added. - -And then the doctor perceived that he was becoming delirious, and he -administered a sedative. When the patient had grown quiet again the -doctor left him, with his sister Judy sitting by his bed, and went -downstairs to the drawing-room to attend to the other case waiting for -his treatment. - -There he found the demoniac still lying on the floor, bound hand and -foot. Longman, Dandy and Mr. Campbell were standing around him. They had -taken the gag from his mouth, but he was breathing heavily. He had -suffered the usual reaction in _mania a potu_, from violent frenzy to -deep coma. - -The men around him made way for the young doctor, who knelt down beside -him, looked into his face, felt his pulse and his heart, and even lifted -the heavy, half-closed lids of his swollen eyes. Then he rose and said: - -“I think you may unbind him with safety now; he will not be in a -condition to assault any one or do any harm for many days to come, if he -ever should.” - -At this moment Ran re-entered the drawing-room and reported Mike as -sleeping quietly. - -Then, in the kindness of his heart toward his fallen foe, he stooped and -examined the condition of Gentleman Geff, whom Longman had just unbound -and straightened out, and who was now lying relaxed and limp on the -carpet. - -“Now, Mr. Campbell,” said Ran, standing up, “you see that we have no -alternative than to put this poor wretch to bed in the house here.” - -“Not so,” said the rector. Then turning to the doctor, he inquired: -“Will it be safe to remove this man immediately to my house—to the -rectory, that is? The distance is short, you know.” - -“It will be perfectly safe, sir,” replied the physician. - -“Then, Mr. Hay, I shall be much obliged to you for the use of a spring -wagon or cart and a mattress with pillows and proper covering to convey -this man to the rectory,” said Mr. Campbell, turning to his host. - -“But, my dear sir, do you think of what you are about to do?” demanded -Ran. - -“Yes; my duty.” - -“But your daughter?” - -“She need never see or speak to him or be troubled by him. Jennie is a -very sensible, practical young woman; always was so, like her dear -mother. And her misfortunes—the result of her one act of imprudence—have -made her even more so. Jennie will be no hindrance.” - -“But why should you take so much trouble, make such a sacrifice, assume -such a responsibility as to carry this stupefied madman to your quiet -house?” - -“Because, as I said before, it is my duty. I am a minister of the -merciful Gospel, however much below that sacred calling, and must set an -example of charity—practice some little of what I preach. The man is my -daughter’s husband, however unworthy of her; my own son-in-law, however -discreditable to me; and I must do my duty by him, however disagreeable -to us all. My dear wife and daughter will give no trouble. There will be -no scenes, no hysterics. They are good, true, strong women, and will -sustain me in my action. But they need not go near the man. Longman, his -mother and myself can take care of him. And now, my friend, will you -order the conveyance?” - -With a sigh and a gesture of deprecation, Ran went out to give the -necessary directions. - -There had been some delay caused by this discussion; but it did not -matter to the unworthy subject of it; he was lying on the carpet in a -dead stupor, and for himself was as well there as anywhere else: so -there was no hurry. - -In less than half an hour a light spring cart, such as is used by -expressmen, was brought around from the stables. It was drawn by two -horses and furnished with comfortable bedding, and to this receptacle -Gentleman Geff was conveyed in the arms of four men. - -The rector and the doctor rode on the seat with the driver, and they -took the road to the rectory. - -Mrs. Campbell and her daughter, declining all Mr. and Mrs. Hay’s -pressing invitations, set out in one of the Hall carriages for their -home. Longman rode on the box with the coachman. - -Mr. Walling, old Dandy and the Legg family were the only remaining -guests at the Hall, and these declined to retire to bed. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - CLEARING SKIES - - -It was of no use to go to bed. The sun was rising. - -Judy, leaving Mike fast asleep, came downstairs, summoned the -housekeeper and gave directions for an early and ample breakfast. - -Then she went into the library to look after the Leggs. - -She found Lamia lying on the sofa with her face buried in the cushions. -She lay perfectly still, so that she might be asleep, ashamed or only -sulky. - -Mrs. Legg lay back in her easy-chair, fast asleep. - -John Legg sat in the great leathern armchair, with his hands clasped -upon his knees and his chin bent upon his chest; he was awake, as deep -sighs showed him to be. - -Clay Legg was nowhere to be seen. - -Judy was so calm and reassured now that, without once falling into -dialect, she addressed herself to the old man. - -“Mr. Legg, there have been bedrooms at the disposal of yourself and -family all last night. I hope the servant, whose duty it was to do so, -has not failed to let you know this or to offer to show you to your -apartments?” - -“No, madam, thank you. No one has failed to execute your hospitable -orders; but who could go to bed in such a night as has been passed? No, -madam; just as soon as my wife and daughter are a little rested we shall -bid you good-by and take our leave of your hospitable home.” - -“I am sorry that such is your resolution; but as soon as Mrs. and Miss -Legg shall awaken I hope you will ring a bell and a servant shall show -you to your rooms, where, at least, you may have the refreshment of the -toilet service before breakfast,” concluded Judy, pleased with her -victory over the brogue. - -“You are very kind, madam, and we will avail ourselves of your offer,” -said John Legg, with a bow. - -Judy smiled and left the library. - -No sooner had the door closed behind her than Lamia reared her head like -a serpent from the sofa and said: - -“Well, then, ring the bell now. I am awake, at any rate, and I should -like a bath and then breakfast to my room. I shall not go down to the -breakfast table to face a sneering pack of hypocrites.” - -John Legg sighed and rang the bell. - -The commotion waked up Mrs. Legg, who yawned, rubbed her eyes and looked -about her. - -“Where are we? What place is this? How came we here?” she muttered. - -And then she suddenly recollected the situation and circumstances and -added: - -“It’s well I’m strong. John Legg, how have you stood it?” - -“As well as man could, Julia, I hope. But here is a young woman come to -show us to our rooms, where we can wash our faces before breakfast,” he -added, as a housemaid appeared at the door. - -The three arose and prepared to follow the girl, who led them up the -first flight of stairs to one of the best suites of rooms in the house. - -When John Legg and Julia Legg had made their simple and hasty toilet, -they went downstairs and into the drawing-room, where they found Mr. and -Mrs. Randolph Hay, Mr. Will Walling and Dandy Quin awaiting them. - -They greeted the party, and then John Legg apologized for the absence of -his daughter as best he could. - -Judy excused herself for a moment and went out immediately to speak to -the housekeeper and order an excellent breakfast sent up to Miss Legg in -her room. - -Then she returned to her guests and conducted them to the breakfast -parlor, where the morning meal was already laid. - -After breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Legg took leave, and with old Dandy, who -wept at parting with his friends, and with their daughter, closely -veiled and silent, left Haymore Hall in a carriage proffered by Ran and -drove to Chuxton, where they took the train for London, en route for -Medge. - -Clay Legg had not been seen since he had fled from before the face of -the frenzied Gentleman Geff. He was afterward heard of in Wales, as a -hanger-on to his father-in-law, under whose protection his wife and -children had lived for some time past. - -Michael Man’s good constitution, excellent health and temperate habits -were all so much in his favor that in a few days he began to get well, -and before the week was out he came downstairs and joined the family at -their meals. - -The rector came over every day to inquire after Mike and to bring -reports of Gentleman Geff, who was at death’s door with brain fever and -not expected to recover. Longman, the colossus, was established in the -sick-room as his constant attendant. Elspeth remained at the rectory for -the present. She would not leave the family under present circumstances. -Meanwhile Randolph Hay had given orders to his bailiff, Prowt, to have -the gamekeeper’s cottage put in complete repair and refurnished for the -Longmans. - -Christmas came, and the young couple at the Hall sent invitations to -their few intimate friends to come and spend the sacred festival with -them. They were loyal to the humblest among these. They really invited -not only Mr. and Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Montgomery and Dr. Hobbs, but -old Dandy from Medge and Longman and Elspeth from the rectory. Will -Walling and Michael Man were still staying in the house. - -The young doctor, the rector and his wife and daughter accepted the -invitation, but Elspeth and Longman declined it on the ground that she -would have to stay at home to mind the baby and he to attend to the sick -man; but these were not the only reasons; they both felt that their -presence, as even Christmas guests at the Hall, would be a social -solecism; for as Elspeth said to her son: - -“These generous young people from the woods of a foreign country don’t -know what they are a-doing of when they invite you and me to dinner, -Samson! It might do well enough in the mines of the backwoods. But here! -Why, bless ’em, if they go on in this way not a single soul among the -country families will have a thing to do with ’em, if they are the lord -and lady of the manor! But they’ll find out better.” - -Longman fully agreed with his mother, and so he wrote his excuses for -both. - -Old Dandy Quin also wrote from Medge and begged to be excused on two -pleas: the first that he was not able to make the long journey from one -end of England to the other twice in ten days; and the second was that -he wanted to eat his Christmas dinner with his new-found relatives. He -added the information that he did not mean to carry out his first -intention of buying an annuity with his savings, but that he should go -into partnership with his nephew, and that in the spring they should -move into a larger house and increase their business. - -He concluded with a piece of news that made Ran, Judy and Mike break -into one of their shouting Grizzly Gulch laughs. - -He wrote that poor Miss Lyddy Legg—and just think of the queenly and -beautiful Lamia Leegh being called “poor Miss Lyddy Legg!”—was very -broken-hearted, though she need not be, for it was not her fault that -she had been taken in by a false marriage; and that everybody was as -kind to her as kind could be, and that he himself—Dandy Quin—had so much -respect and sympathy for her that he offered to marry her out of hand -and make an honest woman of her and leave her all his property at his -death! but that the poor, misguided and demented young woman, who did -not know what was for her own good, had refused him with scorn and -insolence. There! - -Think of the vain and haughty Lamia Leegh receiving an offer of marriage -from Dandy Quin! - -Notwithstanding, or perhaps because of these “regrets,” Mr. and Mrs. -Randolph Hay enjoyed their Christmas with the few friends who gathered -around them. - -In the morning they walked to the village church in company with Will -Walling and Mike. They heard a good Christmas sermon from the Rev. Mr. -Campbell and listened to some really fine music from the organ and grand -anthems from the choristers. - -After the service they shook hands with the rector and his wife and -daughter and with Elspeth. - -Longman was at the rectory keeping guard over the dying man. - -That evening Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay entertained at dinner the Rev. -Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. Montgomery, Dr. Hobbs, Mr. Will Walling and -Mr. Michael Man. And the festival passed off pleasantly, nor did Judy, -nor even Mike, once fall into dialect. - -When the Christmas holidays were over, Mr. Will Walling, having seen his -friend and client, Mr. Randolph Hay, in quiet and undisputed possession -of Haymore, prepared to take leave of the Hall and return to New York. - -A few days before his expected departure he called Ran and said: - -“Well, what are your plans?” - -“We shall not leave Haymore until the spring,” replied Hay. - -“Well, give me half an hour in the library alone with you. I have -something to talk about.” - -Ran followed his guest to the room of books and gave him a chair and -took another. - -Then, however, instead of seating himself, Mr. Will Walling went to one -of the book shelves and took down a large, heavy volume bound in red -cloth and gold. - -“This,” he said, as he laid it on the table and turned over the leaves, -“is the last year’s edition of ‘Burke’s Landed Gentry of Great Britain -and Ireland.’” - -“Well?” carelessly inquired Ran. - -“And this,” continued the lawyer, as he paused at an open page, “is the -genealogy of the Hays, of Haymore.” - -“Well?” again inquired Ran. - -“I want you to look at it with me. I don’t wish to bore you to go over -the whole history, with its marriages, births and deaths, but only to -notice this fact that runs through the whole, from your first known -ancestor, Arthur Hei, who married Edda, a daughter of Seebold, Earl of -Northumberland, down to your grandfather, the late squire, who married -Gentil, daughter of Pharoah Cooper, of Esling. Moor, Yorkshire.” - -“She was a gypsy, and the child of a gypsy,” said Ran. - -“Yes; still she is set down here as the daughter of a certain somebody. -All your ‘forebyes’ have married the daughters of certain somebodies, -from dukes down to gypsies.” - -“Well, but what does all this talk tend to?” demanded Ran. - -“To this: It is too late for your name as Squire of Haymore to appear in -this year’s edition of the ‘Landed Gentry’; the volume is probably -already issued. But before long the _Herald College_ will be getting up -next year’s edition, and you will receive letters or messengers -inquiring for authentic statistics concerning your succession, marriage -and so on.” - -“Well, they can have them,” said Ran indifferently. - -“Yes, but I am afraid there will be some awkwardness for you on one -point.” - -“Which point?” - -“That of your marriage.” - -“How should that be?” - -“Why, in this way—listen. The items of entry in your case will be -something like this: - -“‘Hay, Randolph; born July 15, 184—; succeeded his grandfather as tenth -squire, March 1, 186—,’ (for you know that your succession will date -from the day of his death); ‘married December 2, 186—, Judith, daughter -of ——’ Whom? There’s where the awkwardness would come in.” - -“I would say simply—Judith Man,” replied Ran Hay. - -“Very well—Judith Man, daughter of—whom? The _Herald’s College_ are very -precise in these matters. You will have to find a father for her.” - -“Mr. Walling! If you were not my friend and my guest, I should be very -angry with you. My sweet wife is a child of the Heavenly Father! but for -an earthly parent of either sex I do not know where to look.” - -“Look here then, Hay, to me. I didn’t mention the difficulty without -having a remedy for it. I am a childless widower, as you know. And -though it would be straining a point of probability to represent a man -of thirty-seven as the lawful father of a woman of nineteen, still I -would like to adopt your wife as my daughter, that she may be entered in -the Red Book as Judith, daughter of William Walling, Esq., -attorney-at-law, New York City. Come, Hay, my friend, you know I mean -the best by you and by her. Now what do you say to accepting me as your -father-in-law?” inquired Will Walling, with a laugh. - -Randolph Hay paused before he replied. He was more pained than pleased. -Yet he appreciated the lawyer’s good intentions, and was grateful for -them. - -At length he answered: - -“I thank you from my heart, Mr. Walling, for your intended kindness; and -I feel grieved that I cannot accept your gracious proposal, since not to -do so must seem so very ungracious as well as ungrateful to a friend -whom I love and esteem as much as I do you. And yet I cannot accept it.” - -“But why not?” inquired the lawyer. - -“I—do not know. I cannot tell. I have a feeling against it which I am -unable to define or analyze.” - -“But I am not. I know the cause of your reluctance. It is because it -would not be strictly true. That is it. You need not answer, Ran, my -boy. But you must allow me to tell you that you are a little too -scrupulous for a practical world, though I do not like you the less on -that account,” said Will Walling, with his usual little laugh. - -“And I hope my scruples, as you call them, will not affect our -friendship?” - -“I have just told you that they will not. There, let the matter drop!” -concluded the lawyer. - -Judy never heard of the offer Mr. Will Walling had made to adopt her as -his daughter for the sake of giving her a good antenuptial position, nor -did she ever guess that there would be any awkwardness in the record of -her marriage in the Hay, of Haymore, item of “The Landed Gentry of Great -Britain and Ireland.” She was not troubled on that subject. - -All the affairs of the Hays were so satisfactorily settled now that the -young couple were only waiting for the departure of Will Walling to -leave Haymore for London, where they might live in retirement in that -great city until they should have fitted themselves to mingle with the -more critical of their Yorkshire neighbors. - -Early in the new year pleasant letters came from America. They were from -Cleve and Palma Stuart, and brought news of the change of fortune that -would take them to the mountain farm of West Virginia. - -Ran and Judy were pleased, yet puzzled. - -“I should have thought, if they left New York, they would have gone to -that fine plantation in Mississippi,” said Judy. - -“So should I, and not to what must be a poor farm on the mountain,” -added Ran. And then turning to Walling, he added: - -“You see you will have to take the documents, putting Palma in -possession of the property I have made over to her, all the way to West -Virginia.” - -“I will do that with pleasure. I have never yet seen the Alleghany -Mountains,” replied Will Walling, who was always ready to travel over -any new ground. - -It was nearly the first of February that Will Walling at length -reluctantly made up his mind to take leave of his friends at Haymore. - -In bidding them farewell he said: - -“I cannot help regretting that you would not accept me for your -father-in-law, Hay.” - -Ran only laughed in reply. - -“What did he mean by asking you to be his father-in-law?” inquired Judy, -after the dogcart that was taking Will Walling to the station had rolled -away from the door. - -“Oh, only his nonsense. You know, of course, that, as I have no mother -nor he any daughter, he could never have been my father-in-law,” replied -Ran. - -So Judy never suspected how it was. - -But before many months Judy and Mike were claimed by a father with a -pedigree which the most heathenish worshiper of rank might have been -proud to acknowledge. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - HOPE AND LIFE - - -“Poley, dear darling, will you go with Cleve and me to West Virginia to -live?” exclaimed Palma, running into the cabinet kitchen of her flat, -where good Mrs. Pole was busy over the fire, baking those very muffins -in which she so excelled. - -Cleve had gone out to change the bonanza check to pay the rent and to -give up the flat. - -Poley paused, with a spoonful of batter held in her hand, halfway -between the bowl on the table and the muffin rings in the pan on the -range. - -“What is that you said, my dear?” - -Palma repeated her question. - -“Will I go with you to Vest Wirginny? That’s the furrin nation we was to -war with, ain’t it?” inquired Mrs. Pole, going on to fill her muffin -rings. - -“Don’t mention the war, Poley. I cannot bear to talk of it.” - -“Well, I won’t. But that Vest Wirginny—where is it? In New Orleenes?” -inquired Mrs. Pole, whose ideas of geography were so vague that she once -asked Palma if Africa was in the United States. And Palma, to spare the -good woman’s self-esteem, answered that Africans, or their descendants, -had been in America for a couple of centuries. Whereupon Mrs. Pole had -added that, of course, she knew that America was in the United States. -Palma had not set her right, but ruminated in her own mind on the fact -of the future when our national New Jerusalem would not make a part of -the Western continent, but the Western continent would be only a part of -the grand republic of the planet Earth. But this is a digression. Now to -return. - -“West Virginia is much nearer than New Orleans,” replied Palma. - -Mrs. Pole filled the last of her muffin rings and set the pan containing -them on the range before she spoke again. - -“And you and Mr. Stuart be going there to live, ma’am, you say?” - -“Indeed, yes—and very soon, too.” - -Mrs. Pole put the bowl of batter in the cupboard, covered it over with a -clean napkin and sat down, “to save her back,” while her muffins were -baking. - -“For good?” she inquired. - -“Yes, indeed, for good in every sense of the word, I do hope and -believe. I will tell you all about it.” - -Mrs. Pole jumped up and ran into her little bedroom adjoining the -kitchen, and brought out a small, low-backed rocker, saying to her -little lady: - -“There! Sit ye down while you talk. You have often enough told me to -‘spare my back’ whenever I could lawfully do so. And now I tell you to -spare your own.” - -Palma laughed and dropped into her chair, and when Mrs. Pole had looked -at her muffins and seen that they were doing well, and taken her own -seat on a cane chair, Palma began: - -“I will tell it to you as Cleve told it to me, for it is like a story, -Poley. Here goes! - -“Once upon a time there was an old man—a very rich old man—who lived in -an old stone house at the foot of a mountain, called Wolfscliff, and the -woods that clothed the side of the mountain were called Wolfswalk, -because, when the land was surveyed and the first house was built there -was neither sleep by night nor safety by day, for the wolves. They -carried off hens and geese and sheep and calves, and—horror to -relate!—even the little negro babies. This was how the place received -its name. The wolves were worse than the Indians. They could neither be -fought off nor bought off, but had gradually to die off, like the -Indians. - -“So the name came down the generations to the time of Jeremiah Cleve, -the old man with whom my story commenced, and who lived in an old stone -farmhouse in the woods at the foot of the mountain—a house many times -larger than the log cabin of his first American ancestor. - -“This Jeremiah had married an heiress in his own neighborhood, and so -had doubled his fortune. - -“They had three sons. - -“John, the eldest, was, according to the law of primogeniture then -prevailing in Virginia, heir to the landed estate of his father. This -John, when he was but twenty years of age, became engaged to be married -to the beautiful daughter of the man who owned the nearest plantation to -Wolfswalk. It was a long engagement, on account of the young fiancée’s -extreme youth; but just when they were going to be married, when he was -twenty-five and she was eighteen, she caught a severe cold while out -sleighing with him, and died within a week of inflammation of the lungs. -She was buried in her bridal dress, on her wedding day. It is said that -on her deathbed he solemnly vowed himself to her, lover and husband, for -time and eternity. That was seventy years ago, and he has kept his -faith. He is now a lonely old man of ninety-five, the solitary master of -Wolfscliff, waiting for the Lord to call him to join his bride in -heaven. - -“The younger sons, Charles and James, were, by the terms of the marriage -settlements of their parents, co-heirs of their mother’s estate; and if -there had been ten, they would have all been equal co-heirs, and each -portion small; as there were but two, each portion was considerable. - -“Charles was the first of the family to marry. He wedded a young woman -of family and fortune, and went to live on his mother’s plantation. They -had two sons. When these boys were old enough to be sent to college -their mother sickened and died of typhoid fever, how contracted no one -ever could tell. Their father never married. His house was well managed -by a capable young mulatto woman, who made it homelike to the boys when -they came there to spend the vacation. At length, when the young men -were relatively twenty-two and twenty-four years old, their father also -died, and the young men lived on the farm like true brothers until the -Civil War broke out, when they entered the Southern army. Ah! poor, -dear, brave boys! One fell at Fredericksburg, the other at Cold Harbor. -Truly ‘The glory of this world passeth away.’ - -“I come now to the youngest of old Jeremiah’s sons—James, who was -Cleve’s grandfather—his mother’s father. He had a passion for the -military life, and he entered the army. When he had gained his -commission as second lieutenant of infantry, he married Molly Jefferson, -a relation of the illustrious Thomas. - -“By this time the aged couple, Jeremiah and Josephine Cleve, had passed -on to a higher life, and John, their eldest son, a man passed middle -age, reigned at Wolfscliff in their stead. - -“John, a lonely man, invited the young couple to make their permanent -home with him, and they did so until the Mexican War broke out, when the -young lieutenant had to follow Gen. Scott to Mexico. His young wife -would gladly have accompanied him ‘even to the battlefield,’ but she was -then nursing her first—and only—child, a baby girl not a month old, when -the young husband and father went away to the war, from which he never -came back again. - -“The tidings of his death in the battle of Chepultepec came to -Wolfscliff as a death blow to the youthful widow. She pined and died -within the year, leaving her infant daughter, Cara, to the charge, yes, -rather to the heart of John Cleve. He brought up and educated the orphan -and, when she was grown, went out into the world for her sake. - -“In a winter they passed in Washington they met young Mr. Stuart, of the -Cypresses, Mississippi. A mutual attachment between the young people was -approved by John Cleve. And the next summer Mr. Stuart, of Mississippi, -and Miss Cleve, of Virginia, were married at Wolfscliff. They went on an -extended wedding tour which filled up all the summer and autumn months, -and only returned to the husband’s home in Mississippi in time for the -Christmas holidays, when they were joined by John Cleve, of Wolfscliff, -who came at their—not invitation only, but prayer—to spend the winter -with them. - -“That was his first and last visit—not that he had not enjoyed it, nor -that he ceased to love his dear niece, but that after her marriage he -grew more and more of a recluse, a student and a dreamer. - -“And she visited him all the more frequently that she could not induce -him to leave his home. Instead of going to a gay summer resort when she -migrated to the North every summer, she would go to Wolfscliff, until at -length, when years passed and children came every year, and sickened -every year, and she had to take them to the seaside, her annual visits -to Wolfscliff were discontinued. - -“Cleve, the youngest child, and the only one who survived his parents, -was taken to Wolfscliff when he was about three years old. That was the -first and last time he ever saw his grand-uncle. Of the tragic fate of -Cleve’s father and mother you have heard me tell, Poley.” - -“Oh, yes,” answered Mrs. Pole; “they were fatally hurt on the wreck of -the _Lucy Lee_, I remember.” - -“And after that, do you know that the aged John Cleve, of Wolfscliff, -who sank deeper and deeper into solitary study and reverie, utterly lost -sight of his grand-nephew, whom he was contented to think of as at -school under the supervision of his guardian, Judge Barrn, or at -college, or traveling in Europe, or on his Mississippi plantation, not -knowing that the latter was a charred and blasted ruin and desert until -the death, in battle, of his last nephew left him without an heir -bearing the name of Cleve. Then he instituted inquiries for his -grand-nephew, Cleve Stuart, but without the least effect. - -“Accident at last revealed Cleve’s residence in New York. Mr. Sam -Walling went to Washington on legal business and fell in with a Mr. -Steele, of Wolfswalk, the nearest town to Wolfscliff, and, in the course -of conversation, mentioned the sage of Wolfscliff and his vain quest for -his nephew and heir, Cleve Stuart. Then Mr. Walling gave information, -and the West Virginian went back to the mountains with the news the -hermit was pining to hear. - -“John Cleve immediately wrote the letter inviting Mr. Stuart and myself -to come and make our home with him.” - -“And you are going?” - -“Yes, I told you so. Will you come with us?” - -“To the end of the world. To the jumping-off place. And even there, if -you should take the leap in the dark, I’ll jump down after you.” - -“Dear Poley, I am so glad!” - -“And why should I stay behind? And why should I not go? I have nieces -and cousins here, to be sure; but they are all doing well. And though I -love them, I think I love you more, for you do seem more like a child of -my own than any of them do; and you seem to want me more than they can.” - -“I do want you more, Poley, darling. And Cleve is so anxious for you to -go with us for me. Though I am now in excellent health, he seems to -think I require a nurse to look after me as much as if I were a sick -baby.” - -“And so you be, my dear, for this present time, and will be for some -time to come,” Mrs. Pole replied, nodding wisely. - -“Oh, I am so glad you will come, Poley, dear. And listen. When I get -settled at Wolfscliff next summer you can invite any of your relations, -or all of them, as many as the house will hold, to come and stay with -you. It will be such a pleasant, healthful change for them, from the -crowded city to the fine, open mountains.” - -“It would be heaven for them to see it only for a day. Why, we all went -up the North River and saw the hills only from the deck of the steamer, -and they thought that was paradise, and longed to be in it. What would -they say to staying a week among the mountains?” exclaimed Poley. - -“Then they shall come. They shall all come,” responded Palma -delightedly. - -“But, my dear child, what would the old gentleman say?” demurred Mrs. -Pole. - -“Oh, Poley, you don’t know the Southern people. Neither do I, for that -matter, except upon Cleve’s showing. But I am sure I can guarantee you -and yours a welcome at Wolfscliff. And mind, we won’t have to send to -market for meat, poultry and vegetables, nor to the grocer’s for flour, -and meal, and lard, and eggs, and such things. Nearly everything, except -tea and sugar, pepper and salt, and such, are produced on the farm, and -cost next to nothing,” said Palma, speaking as she believed and proving -how little she knew of the cost of labor or the worth of time on a farm. - -But Mrs. Pole, who was as ignorant of such a life as was her youthful -friend, received every statement in good faith, and anticipated good -days to come. - -She looked once more at her muffins, made the tea, and then went into -the parlor to set the table for luncheon. - -Palma went into her bedroom to overhaul trunks and bureau drawers, to -see what she could make of her scant wardrobe, in view of appearing -among strangers in West Virginia. She had but three suits—the superb -velvet dress given her by Mrs. Walling, which she thought could only be -worn on grand occasions, and must be quite useless in the mountain -farmhouse; the well-worn crimson cashmere now on her back, and in its -very last days; the fine India muslin, now fairly embroidered, not with -unnecessary fancy work, but with needful darns. These were all the -dresses Palma owned, if we except the old, faded blue gingham wrapper in -which Cleve had first found her in her garret. - -“I must get Poley to sponge and press the crimson cashmere, and then -that will do to travel in, and with care it may last the rest of the -winter,” she said patiently, as she locked her trunk and her bureau -drawers and returned to her little parlor, where she sat down to work on -a doll’s dress, or what might have passed for such. - -While thus engaged she sang a sweet nursery song that was a reminiscence -of her own infancy. - -Presently Cleve came in, smiling. - -“Well, dear,” he said, “I have paid the rent and given up the rooms, -though I had to pay another month’s rent in lieu of a month’s warning; -and I have settled every other outstanding bill except the milkman’s. I -could not find man or bill if I tried, I suppose.” - -“No; there is no bill. We buy tickets, and pay cash, and we have seven -tickets left.” - -“Then the man can have the benefit, for we go away to-day.” - -“From the city?” - -“No; from the flat. We will go to a hotel to-night, and go to Washington -to-morrow, en route for West Virginia. Can you pack up in that time?” - -“I can pack up in an hour,” replied Palma. - -As she spoke the hall boy knocked and entered the room, showing in a man -with a bundle. - -“Ah! that is all right, thank you—that will do,” said Stuart as the man -set down the box and went away. - -“It is my new business suit for winter wear in the mountain farmhouse. -What do you think of it, Palma?” he inquired, cutting the twine and -unpacking the box and shaking out a suit of brown beaver cloth, -consisting of double-breasted coat, vest and pantaloons. - -“Oh! I think it is excellent. Such a rich, deep color, and such soft, -thick, warm material,” said the young wife appreciatingly. - -“Yes, so it is—all that,” added Mrs. Pole, who was setting the tea urn -on the table. “But, la! what a blessing it is that women’s clothes grows -on ’em, like feathers do on to a bird, so they never has no trouble nor -expense to buy any.” - -Stuart dropped his suit on the floor and looked at his wife in dismay, -noticed her faded, shabby cashmere dress, and became contrite for his -thoughtlessness. - -Mrs. Pole said: - -“Lunch is ready, ma’am,” and hurried out of the room. - -“Don’t mind Poley, Cleve, dear. She is full of queer sayings, you know,” -said Palma conciliatingly. “Come now, and sit down to luncheon. Here are -some of her nice muffins.” And she took her seat at the table and began -to pour out the tea. - -“I have been an idiot, and a very selfish idiot at that! providing -myself with a first-rate suit of clothes, and even displaying them to -your admiration, without once remembering that you also would require -raiment. I am obliged to the woman for bringing me to my senses,” said -Stuart as he took his seat opposite his wife and helped himself to a -muffin. - -“Nonsense, Cleve! I have got a tongue in my head, and if I had wanted -anything would have asked you for it without hesitation,” replied Palma. - -“I fear you would not have recognized any want, my dear; and I fear it -is true that some men are so thoughtless that they act as if women’s -clothes grew on them like the petals of a flower, and cost neither money -nor effort to renew. But I see now. Yes, dear rose of my life, I see -your petals are fading.” - -No more was said until after luncheon, when Cleve put a fifty-dollar -note in Palma’s hand and said: - -“Go out and get what is necessary for your comfort, my dear; and take -some lady friend with you, for I fear you have very little experience in -shopping.” - -“Thank you, Cleve,” replied Palma, laughing; “but I shall take Poley. -She will be a better judge of what I need than any of our fine lady -friends.” - -“Well, perhaps you are right,” admitted Stuart, and the discussion -ended. - -When Mrs. Pole had cleared away the table and taken her own luncheon -Palma invited her to go on a shopping expedition; and they put on their -bonnets and outer garments and started. Palma’s was only the plush -jacket that belonged to her cashmere suit, and she shivered so much as -she walked that Mrs. Pole said: - -“The very first thing that you must buy must be a heavy cloth coat. You -can get one for twenty dollars. I should prefer a Scotch plaid shawl, -but young people don’t wear such things now, only neat-fitting coats, or -sacques, or dolmans.” - -They went down on Broadway and into store after store, trying where they -could find at once the cheapest and the best. - -At length Palma was suited with a close-fitting heavy cloth coat that -not only satisfied herself but also Mrs. Pole. - -“Now, then, as you like it so well, keep it on, child, and have your -plush jacket done up in a parcel and I will take it home,” said the good -woman. - -And this was done. - -But then they went to the suit department, where Palma selected an -olive-green pressed flannel dress for herself, and had to take off her -coat to try it on. Then she bought a beaver bonnet and a leather -hand-bag, and her shopping was complete. - -Mrs. Pole, who had saved up the wages she had received, bought a very -heavy tartan shawl, two pairs of thick yarn stockings, a pair of stout -goat-skin boots, a pair of warm woolen gloves, and a thick green berege -veil, and felt herself provided for defense against the winter on the -mountain farm. - -When they reached home they found Stuart waiting for them. He said: - -“Pray do not trouble to get dinner this evening, as we can dine at the -hotel where we are to spend the night.” - -“I am very glad of that, on Poley’s account for she is very tired. She -insisted on bringing home all our purchases herself, and just look how -she has loaded herself down!” said Palma, laughing, though, in fact, the -two heaviest items of the purchases, namely, Palma’s beaver cloth coat -and Poley’s tartan shawl, were worn home on the shoulders of the -respective owners. - -“But I must beg you to pack up as soon as possible, and I will help you, -if you will show me how,” he answered. - -“That would be an awful hindrance, sir! Just let me get my breath for a -minute and I’ll be all right. I am not tired one bit. And we’ll get -through the packing in a jiffy! It’s very easy to move when there’s no -furnitur’, and nothing but one’s clothes and things to pack,” said Mrs. -Pole, sitting down on the first chair, dropping her bundles on the -floor, and untying the broad plaid ribbon strings of her big black straw -bonnet. - -She kept her word, for in five minutes she was on her feet again, and in -less than an hour the trunks were packed, locked and strapped. - -Stuart wrote the labels and pasted them on the tops, and they stood -ready for the expressman. - -Then the three put on their outer garments and turned to leave their -flat. - -Palma paused and looked back half regretfully. - -“Good-by, pretty little home,” she said. “We have been very happy in -you, but you must not mind our going away. We shall have to go away from -our bodies some of these days! But I hope you will have very pleasant -tenants always. Good-by.” - -Stuart did not laugh at her, but Mrs. Pole did, and said as they went to -the elevator: - -“If I didn’t know you as well as I do, child, I should really sometimes -think you were crazy!” - -“Oh, Poley! don’t you know there is a soul in places and in things, as -well as there is in all other living creatures?” she answered. - -Mrs. Pole did not reply, but thought within herself: “I do suppose as -there be some of the sensiblest people crazy in spots.” - -They went down in the elevator; and what a misfit of words there is in -that sentence! - -They found the janitor waiting in the office to see them off. Mr. Stuart -gave him the key of the vacated apartments, and they all shook hands -with him and left, with the request that he would see to the delivery of -their trunks to the expressman. - -Then they walked down the street to the corner of the avenue where the -cars passed. Mr. Stuart hailed the first down one, and they boarded it. -They rode about the length of twenty blocks, got off and walked across -town to Broadway, and entered the office of the hotel that Stuart had -chosen for their sojourning place that night. - -They were easily provided with rooms. - -When Palma had taken off her bonnet in her chamber Mrs. Pole, who still -stood up in her street costume, said: - -“Now, ma’am, if you please, I must leave you for a little while.” - -“What, Poley dear! Is there any more shopping to do? Have you forgotten -anything?” demanded Palma. - -“No, my child! But as we are to start to-morrow morning I must go and -take leave of my kinfolks to-night.” - -“Oh, Poley! And they live away downtown somewhere! And—you can never go -alone!” - -“Why not, child? I have been used to go alone all about the city all the -days of my life, even when I was a young woman, and nothing ever -happened to me, or even threatened to happen to me! And if nothing -didn’t in my youth, nothing ain’t like to do it in my age! Don’t be -uneasy, child! I’ll be back by ten o’clock, and one o’ my nephies will -see me here safe.” - -“But won’t you wait until after dinner? Cleve says they keep a sumptuous -table here.” - -“Then I hope you will get the good of it, my dear, but as for me, I must -hurry away. I’ll make up for missing of my dinner by eating a hearty -supper when I come back.” - -“Take care, you must not risk a return of those horrid nights you had at -Lull’s, you know,” said Palma, with a sudden recollection of the -sleep-walking and magpie-hiding propensities that had been features of -those disturbed nights, though features that happily Mrs. Pole had never -suspected. - -“Oh, don’t you be afraid! It was the cold, heavy pastry that did it at -Lull’s! There was no basket beggars to carry off the cold pie crusts and -puddin’s, and me and the girls used to eat ’em all up at night to keep -’em from being wasted on. And I never heard of their hurting anybody but -me, either. But don’t you be afraid. I shall eat nothing but the very -best of nutericious and digesterable food, like stewed oysters and -sich.” - -“Very well, Poley. Eat what you will, so it shall agree with you. And -now don’t fail to invite your relations in my name as well as in your -own to come to Wolfscliff to see you next summer.” - -“Thank you, ma’am, for reminding me again. Now I know you are in airnest -and I’ll be sure to invite them.” - -“Why, Poley, I am always in earnest.” - -“To be sure, I know you are, ma’am, dear child,” answered Mrs. Pole, -divided in her style of address, between her respect for her mistress -and her tenderness of her pet. - -And then again she took leave and went out. - -Cleve came out and escorted Palma down to dinner, where the many and -slow courses occupied them for more than an hour. - -At ten o’clock Poley punctually made her appearance, and ate a hearty -supper of stewed oysters and brown stout with her nephew. - -At eleven o’clock the whole party retired to rest. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - TO THE MOUNTAIN FARM - - -They rose early in the morning, breakfasted and drove down to Cortlandt -Street ferry to take the boat for Jersey City. - -They caught the eight-thirty train in good time and without hurry. - -Stuart found their baggage all right, waiting for them, checked it to -Washington, and then entered with his companions into the ladies’ car, -and the express train started on its Southern flight. Their journey was -quick, pleasant and uneventful. - -Early in the evening of that day they reached Washington. - -Leaving their trunks in the baggage room at the depot, and taking only -their hand-bags, they went to one of the best hotels, where they dined -and engaged rooms for the night and the next day. - -This was Palma’s first sight of the capital of her country, and Cleve -determined to linger a few hours to show her the public buildings. - -The next morning Stuart engaged a hack and took his two companions for a -long, circuitous drive, which should include visits to the White House, -the State, War, Navy and Treasury Departments and the Capitol. But these -visits were necessarily short. There was no time to pay their respects -to the President in the Executive Mansion, or to listen to the debates -in the Senate Chamber or in the House of Representatives, or to the -cases in the Supreme Court. They had to get back to lunch and then to -take the train for West Virginia. - -Two o’clock in the afternoon found them again seated in the cars and -flying westward. - -Up to this hour the day had been clear and mild, but now the sky began -to cloud over, and when they reached Alexandria the snow began to fall, -and as they left the old town behind them and the short winter afternoon -drew to a close, the storm thickened, if that could be called a storm in -which there was no wind, but a cataclysm of snow falling directly, -silently and continuously upon the earth. - -Strange scenes were traced on the window panes without, weird, -beautiful, fantastic scenes—cities, palaces, gardens, trees—all drawn in -frosted silver. They fascinated the imagination of Palma, who was never -tired of gazing and dreaming. Little or nothing could be seen through -the storm of the country over which they were flying. - -They reached Oaklands, on the Alleghanies, late at night. They had taken -through tickets to the end of their railway journey, and the train was -going on that night; yet, as the storm continued, they determined to lay -over until the next morning. Leaving their trunks on the baggage car to -go on to their destination, they took their hand-bags and walked through -the thickly falling snow to the hotel, where they were comforted by -clean rooms, glorious hickory wood fires, and a delicious supper of -venison steaks, broiled ham, buckwheat cakes, hot rolls, tea, coffee, -and rich cream, and butter, and honey such as is seldom found anywhere. - -It had been a fatiguing day, and as they could see nothing of the -country for the snowstorm, they all went to bed and slept the sleep of -the just. - -The next morning they rose to a new life. - -The storm had ceased. The sky was clear, and the sun was shining over a -splendid, a magnificent, a dazzling world of mountains, valleys, fields -and forests, all arrayed in white and decked with diamonds. - -“Oh! Cleve,” cried Palma, looking out from the upper window of her -bedroom, “does it seem possible that only yesterday we were in a crowded -city, not two hundred miles away, and that now we find ourselves in this -magnificent scene? Why, Cleve, yesterday seems to be a thousand years -behind, and this to be another planet!” - -Her rhapsodies were interrupted by the breakfast bell. - -And for all answer Cleve smiled, drew her arm within his own and led her -down to the breakfast table. - -There were some few other wayfarers present in the room, and these men -were standing around the great, roaring wood fire and talking politics -or crops. But they soon left their position and sat down at the board. -Mrs. Pole was there, too, ready to join her friends. - -“Did you ever dream of such a world as this, Poley?” whispered Palma as -the three sat down in a row, Palma being in the middle. - -“No, never in all my life! I never even ’magined as there could be such -a place as this! And, oh! ain’t it cold, neither?” - -“Cold, but such a fine, pure, healthy cold. And the hot coffee will warm -you, Poley.” - -The breakfast was in many respects a repetition of the supper, and in -all respects equal to it. - -“Seems to me I eat twice as much at every meal as I ever eat before in -my life, and yet I feel hungry in an hour after I have finished. I do -believe if I was to live up in these regions I should have such an -appetite I should think of nothing but eating and drinking from morning -till night, and dreaming of nothing but eating and drinking from night -till morning!” - -“I wonder how long that would last?” queried Palma, but Mrs. Pole did -not answer. She had turned her attention the the venison steaks. - -As soon as breakfast was over the three put on their outer garments and -walked through the main street of the mountain town to the railway -station, where they had to wait for nearly half an hour for the Eastern -train to come in. Then they took their seats on board of it, and were -once more flying westward through the magnificent mountain world in its -splendid winter garb of ice and snow. - -All day long our travelers reveled in the glorious panorama that flew -past the windows of their car, until night closed in and hid the scene -from their vision. - -It was quite dark when they reached the little way station of Wolfswalk, -where they left the train, which stopped half a minute and then sped on -westward. - -It was too dark for our party to see anything but the few glimmering -lights at the station and in the stable yard of the village tavern on -the opposite side of the road, and the ghostly forms of the mountains -looming through the obscurity. - -“It is now seven o’clock, and we are three miles from Wolfscliff Hall. I -shouldn’t wonder if we have to spend the night at the inn here,” said -Cleve Stuart as he drew the arm of his wife within his own and prepared -to cross the country road, or village street, as you may prefer to call -it. - -“If the inn is anything like that of Oaklands I shall not be very sorry. -Come on, Poley. Keep close behind us,” said Palma. - -“’Scuse me, marster; is you Marse Cleve Stuart?” inquired a voice from -the darkness at his elbow. - -“Yes. Who are you?” demanded Stuart. - -“’Sias, sah, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’om Wolfskif; yas, sah, dat’s -me,” replied the invisible. - -“And you have been sent to meet us, eh? Come in here. Let us take a look -at one another,” said Cleve with a laugh, as he led the way into the -lighted station. - -The negro was a man of middle age, tall, stout, strong and very black, -and clothed in a warm suit of thick, heavy homespun cloth. - -“You have been sent to meet us?” again suggested Stuart. - -“Yas, sah! along wid de ox cart, to fetch you an’—de ladies, do’ I did’n -know as dere wasn’t no more’n one lady; but, laws! de more de better, I -say, marster, and my name’s ’Sias, old Marse John Clebe’s man f’m -Wolfskif Hall—yas, sah.” - -“Did you say you had brought the ox cart for us?” inquired Stuart in -some dismay as he thought of his dainty wife. - -“Yas, sah! I has fetched the ox cart, wid Baron an’ Markiss yoked on, -an’ dey is de best beasts on de plantation, kind and gentle as new milk, -’specially Baron, to fetch you an’ de ladies and de luggage, all at de -same time, an’ dere’s a-plenty o’ hay for de ladies to sit on jes’ as -clean an’ as dry n’s sweet as wiolits.” - -“But was there no carriage in my uncle’s stables?” inquired Cleve. - -“Plenty. But, Lor’, marster, dey was one an’ all so ole an’ rusty, an’ -flip-floppy, an’ ramshakelly, dat dey couldn’t be trusted on good roads -in good wedder by daylight, let alone bad roads in bad wedder by night. -An’ wot is true ob de kerridges mought be said ob de hosses, likewise. -Dey wouldn’ be sho-futted on sich roads in sich wedder at night. De ox -cart is de mos’ safes’ an’ de oxes is de mos’ sho-futtedes’. An’ yo’ -wouldn’ like to hab de ladies’ necks broke for de sake ob pomps an’ -wanities in kerridges! Would yo’ now?” - -Cleve laughed, but Palma put in her word: - -“Oh, Cleve, I’m delighted! It is so new! such fun! to ride on the hay in -an ox cart! It seems so of a piece with all our strange experiences! -Yes! this is some new planet! Not our old familiar earth!” - -“How did you happen to be here to meet us? We are a day and a half -behind time,” inquired Stuart. - -“Ole Marse John Clebe, ob Wolfskif Hall—an’ I am his own man ’Sias, wot -nebber would ’mancipate him in de ole ages ob his onnerrubble life fur -all de President an’ Con’gess might say—telled me to come yere to meet -yer an’ stay for de las’ train till you ’rove, an’ dis is de mos’ -secondes’ day as I hab been yere to meet yo’! An’ now, young marse, ef -yo’ll listen to me, yo’ll put de ladies in de cart an’ we’ll jog off.” - -“All right, ’Sias. Show us the way to the chariot,” laughed Cleve. - -The negro set his lantern down in a chair, took from it a bit of candle, -which he lighted by a match and replaced, and said: - -“Now I shows the way, young marster,” and walked out of the station, -followed by Stuart, Palma and Poley. - -He led them to the lower end of the platform near which the ox cart -stood, with its floor thickly carpeted with layers of hay, and with its -yoke of oxen standing and pawing in the cold night air. Their heads were -turned away from the town, as if all ready for their jog across the -country. - -Stuart put Palma upon the cart, and she settled herself in the hay with -childish delight. - -Then he helped Mrs. Pole to a seat beside her. - -“And now, Marse Glebe, ef yo’ will jes’ git up dar on dat bench, in -front ob de two ladies, yo’ll obleege dis compinny! ’Caze, yo’ see, I’s -got to walk at the head ob de creeturs to keep ’em straight on to de -road.” - -“Is that necessary?” inquired Stuart as he climbed to his place and -settled himself comfortably. - -“‘N’essary?’” exclaimed ’Sias. “Why, la, bress yer soul, Marse Clebe! -dere’s places ’long dis road w’ere ef dis yere nigh beast was to make a -misstep, we’d all go ober down free fo’ hunderd feet to the rocks below. -No, sah! I’s gwine walk at dis creetur’s head and carry my lantern, -too,” concluded ’Sias as the oxen moved slowly and heavily onward as was -their manner. - -The lantern might have been, and probably was, a help to the vision of -’Sias and so to the safety of his party, but it could show only a small -section of the road immediately under the feet of the conductor. - -Nothing could be seen of the surrounding country except that it -consisted of densely wooded mountains, whose skeleton trees were faintly -outlined against the ground of snow. - -When their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness the travelers in the -cart could see, to their horror, that they were plodding along a rough -and narrow road between a high rise of rocks on their right and a deep -fall on their left; but the cautious negro guide with his lantern walked -by the heads of the oxen between them and the precipice, keeping them -out of the terrible danger. For an hour their way lay along this road, -and then began slowly to descend a gradual slope, and finally turned to -the right and entered a thick wood. - -’Sias heaved a deep sigh of relief and said: - -“Peoples sez, w’en dey gits out’n dif’culty an’ danger, as dey’s ‘out’n -de woods.’ But, la! I allers feels as if I wasn’t safe until I was offen -dat dar debbil’s shelf, up dar, an’ got down yere in dese woods.” - -“How far are we from the house, ’Sias?” inquired Stuart. - -“On’y ’bout a mile, young marster. Get dere werry soon now. Dis yere is -all ole Marse John Clebe’s lan’.” - -“Oh! is it?” - -“Yas, sah. An’ dis woods usen to be called Wolfswalk in de ollen times, -I’s heern says, ‘cause dar was mos’ as many wolfs as trees, an’ de -station ober yonder was just named arter dese yer woods, an’ dats de -trufe for a fac’.” - -They jogged through the dark, mysterious-looking woods for some time in -silence, Palma only once murmuring: - -“It is like a dream, or a scene in a fairy tale. I feel as if we should -come upon something soon—an ogre’s castle, an enchanted beauty’s palace, -or something. Don’t wake me up, please, anybody.” - -What they did come upon very soon was a glimmering light, that seemed to -shoot here and there through the thick, leafless trees like a firefly, -had it been summer instead of winter. - -“It’s a lamp in de big hall; it shines right froo de fanlight ober de -front do’, an’ it seems to flit about so ’caze sometimes de trees sho’ -it an’ sometimes dey doan’t,” ’Sias explained. And as he spoke the ox -cart slowly and clumsily drew up before a large, oblong building of the -simplest and plainest style of architecture common among the wealthier -class of that region at the time the house was planned. - -Though the travelers could not, at that time of night, discern its -features, yet this seems the best time for their historian to describe -it. - -The house was built in the rude, strong, plain style of the best old -colonial mansions, of rough-hewn gray rocks of every variegated shade of -red, blue, green, yellow, purple and orange, which gave a mosaic aspect -to the walls. It was an oblong double house, with a broad double door, -having two long windows on each side of the first floor, and five -windows on the second floor, surmounted by a steep roof, with five -dormer windows, and buttressed by four huge chimneys, two at each gable -end. There were many old oak, elm and chestnut trees around the -dwelling, and there were smaller houses, of rude construction, in the -rear. - -When the ox cart stopped before the door Stuart got off his seat and -lifted down his wife and her attendant. He tucked Palma’s hand under his -arm and led her up the few steps that went up to the front door. That -door was open and full of light from a large lamp that hung from the -ceiling of the spacious hall, and within the door stood the master of -the house to welcome his coming relatives. - -He was a man of middle height—the thinnest, whitest, most shadowy living -man they had ever seen. - -“You are welcome to Wolfscliff, my dears,” he said, giving a hand each -to Palma and to Cleve. - -“We are very glad to see you, uncle,” said the two in one breath. - -“And this lady?” said the old-fashioned gentleman, with native courtesy -as he held out his hand to Mrs. Pole, of whom he had just caught sight. - -“Our friend, Mrs. Pole, who never leaves Palma, uncle,” explained Cleve. - -“Ah! I am glad to see you, ma’am,” said Mr. Cleve. - -“Thank you, sir. I am only Mrs. Cleve Stuart’s housekeeper and -attendant,” said Mrs. Pole, who would not consent to seem a half an inch -above her real social position. - -“Ah! And a very trusted and esteemed friend, also, I have no doubt,” -replied the old gentleman. - -“She is, indeed, sir, like a mother to my delicate Palma,” assented -Stuart. - -“I am very glad she consented to accompany you here,” said Mr. Cleve. - -In the moment they stood there talking Palma took in with her eyes the -whole of the spacious hall. It ran from front to back through the middle -of the house, with double doors at each end, four doors on either side -and a broad staircase going up from the midst. A hat rack and half a -dozen heavy oak chairs were the only furniture. There was no carpet on -the polished oak floor, no pictures on the paneled wall. - -“Will you come into the parlor, or would you prefer, first, to go to -your rooms?” inquired the old gentleman, opening a door on his right. - -“Which would you rather do, Palma?” inquired Cleve. - -“Oh, go into the parlor! You see, uncle, we have not come through dust, -but through snow, and we are as clean as when we had washed this -morning,” replied Palma. - -The old man led the way into a large, square room, with paneled walls, -polished floor, heavy walnut chairs and tables, and a broad, open -fireplace, with brass andirons, on which was piled about an eighth of a -cord of blazing hickory logs. Around this was a brass fender; above it, -on the wall, a handsome carved oak mantelpiece surmounted by a broad -mirror, and down before it on the floor a rich old Turkey rug. Two large -armchairs stood in each chimney corner. - -“Now, my dears, and you, ma’am, make yourselves comfortable and be quite -at home. Supper will be ready in a few minutes,” said Mr. Cleve as he -sank into one of the armchairs. - -Then Palma saw how fragile he really was—his transparent face was as -white as ashes, his thin hair and thin whiskers were like floss of -silver, his hands were the longest, thinnest, fairest hands ever seen. -He was clothed in a dark blue dressing-gown which he folded double over -his knees, and the bald spot on the top of his head was covered with a -much worn old blue velvet skullcap. His aspect suggested frost, cobweb, -chrysalis. Only his deep-set, soft brown eyes shone warm and bright with -the fire of life, light and love from the true soul, so slightly held by -the fragile frame and almost ready to fly. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - THE MOUNTAIN HOME - - -Mr. Cleve stretched out his hand and pulled the bell. - -An elderly colored woman came in. - -“Serve the supper in here, Polly. The dining-room is too cold, I think,” -he said. - -“Yes, marster,” the woman replied and went out. - -“It is in the northwest angle of the house, and has four large -windows—two north and two west—which shake and rattle, and let in the -wind when it blows, as it does now, from that quarter; and also sends -the smoke in volumes down the chimney. So I think it will be more -comfortable for us to eat supper here,” Mr. Cleve explained as he bent -forward and spread his thin, fair hands to the fire. - -“I am sure there could not be a pleasanter room than this,” said Palma -from her low rocker as she basked in the warm glow. - -“Ah-h-h!” added Stuart with a sigh of deep satisfaction as he rubbed his -hands. - -The woman soon came back with faded felt crumb cloth in her arms, which -she went on to lay down on the shining oak floor. - -She was followed by a colored girl with the table damask in her hands. -Between them they set the table, adorning it with rare old china and -antique silver. And then a good supper, in honor of the new arrivals, as -well as in consideration of the weary and hungry travelers. There was -tea, coffee and chocolate, milk, cream and butter, rolls, waffles and -cakes, ham, poultry and game, eggs, cheese and fruit—variety, without -superabundance. - -Mr. Cleve arose and invited his relatives to take their seats, and -himself led Palma to the head of the table, saying pleasantly: - -“This is your place henceforth, my child—a place that has not been -filled since my dear niece, your husband’s mother, married and left me.” - -Palma raised and kissed the pale hand that led her, and then sat down -before the tea tray. - -The old gentleman sat opposite to her at the foot, Stuart on the right -and Mrs. Pole on the left side. - -The venerable master of the house asked the blessing, and the feast -began. The two colored women waited on the table—the elder one stood -beside Palma to hand the cups; the younger beside Mr. Cleve, to pass the -plates. Varied and appetizing as was the supper, the host partook but -daintily, contenting himself with a cup of cocoa and a wafer. But Cleve -and Palma had healthy young appetites, and so delighted the hearts of -the waiting women with their appreciation of the good things set before -them. - -When the meal was over and the table cleared of the service the elder -woman set a lamp upon it; then brought the family Bible and laid it open -where the place was kept by her master’s spectacles as a book mark. - -“Come, my dear children, let us draw near to Our Father,” said the -patriarch. And once more they gathered around the table, on this -occasion for worship. - -John Cleve read the first chapter of the Sermon on the Mount; then made -a pause, that all might reflect on the divine lesson; next led in the -evening thanksgiving and prayer, offering up on this occasion especially -grateful acknowledgments for the dear children sent to be a comfort to -his declining days, and prayers for their spiritual and eternal welfare. -Then he pronounced the benediction, and the evening service was over. - -As soon as they arose from their knees the elder colored woman, whom her -master had called Polly, came up to Palma and said: - -“Please, ma’am, if you would like to go to your room now I am ready to -wait on you.” - -“Thank you. I should like to retire,” replied wearied Palma. - -“An’ de oder lady, likewise,” added the woman, nodding toward Mrs. Pole. - -“Yes, I’m sure she would. She is even more fatigued than I am—than -either of us,” replied Palma. - -“W’ich it is her age-able years, ma’am, of coorse. She can’t be as young -as she used to be,” said the woman gravely. - -“Probably not,” admitted Palma with a smile. - -The waiting woman lighted two short sperm candles, in short brackets, -and, with one in each hand, prepared to lead the way. - -“Shall we bid you good-night, uncle, dear?” inquired Palma, going to the -side of his easy-chair and bending over him. - -“You may, my dear, and your friend; but I must have ten minutes’ talk -with your husband here before I let him go. I will not keep him longer -than that,” replied the old gentleman benignly. - -“Good-night, then, uncle, dear,” she said, raising his delicate hands to -her lips. - -“God bless you, my love,” he responded, drawing her to him and leaving a -kiss on her forehead. - -“Good-night, sir,” said Mrs. Pole with a formal bow. - -“Good-night, ma’am,” replied Mr. Cleve, lifting his skullcap and bending -his head. - -Palma and Poley followed the colored woman out of the parlor into the -big, bare hall, up the broad stairs to the upper hall, which was quite -as big and as bare. - -It was bitterly cold. With a heavily wooded country, with forests of -pine, oak, cedar, hickory, chestnut, poplar and other timber, on the -slopes and in the valleys, and with mines of coal among the rocks and -caverns, it seemed yet impossible to keep a country house of that region -warm in winter. You might keep certain rooms within it warm, but not the -halls and passages, not the whole house, for the reason that they had no -system of furnaces, registers, heat pipes and so forth; but then they -were considered all the more wholesome on that account. - -Nevertheless, Palma shivered and shook as with an ague when she stepped -upon the upper landing of the second floor hall. It was almost exactly -like the hall below; four bedroom doors flanked it on each side, and -there was a large window at each end, corresponding to the front and -back door of the under one. - -Polly led them about halfway up the hall toward the front of the house, -and paused before a door on the right hand, about midway, saying: - -“Here is yer room, ma’am, and the most comfortablest one in the whole -house, ’ceps ’tis ole marster’s, which is downstairs, on t’other side ob -de hall, behine de parlor, an’ befo’ de kitchen, and ‘tween ’em bofe, is -sort o’ fended an’ warmed, and purtected by bofe sides habbin’ ob a big -fire into it, bofe day an’ night.” - -She opened a door and showed them into a spacious chamber, warmed and -lighted by a great fire of hickory logs in the ample chimney, which was -directly opposite the door by which they had entered. Tall brass -andirons supported the blazing logs, an antique brass fender and crossed -fire-irons secured the rich Turkey rug and the polished oak floor from -danger by falling brands or flying sparks; a carved oak mantelshelf -surmounted the fireplace and supported an oblong mirror, with a tall -silver candlestick at each end. There was a high window on each side of -the fireplace, but both were closed now, sash and shutter, and the snowy -dimity curtains were dropped. At the end of the room nearest the front -of the house stood a large, four-post bedstead, with high-tented tester, -from which hung full, white dimity curtains festooned and looped from -ceiling to floor. Beside this white “marquee” lay a small Turkey rug. - -A chest of drawers, a walnut press, a corner washstand and two -easy-chairs draped with white dimity completed the furniture. - -“That little door, ma’am,” said Polly, pointing to one in the wall -opposite the foot of the bed, though a good distance from it, “leads -into a d’essin’-yoom, where you can also keep yer extry clothes and -fings as yer wouldn’t like to clutter up yer bedroom wid.” - -“Thank you,” said Palma, dropping into one of the easy-chairs and -beginning to unbutton her own boots. - -“Wait, ma’am. Let me. Please let me. I’ll just show this lady here to -her yoom, and then come and take off your shoes for you!” exclaimed -Polly. - -Then she put one of her candles on the chest of drawers, and retaining -the other, turned to Mrs. Pole and said: - -“Now, ma’am, please I’ll take yer to your yoom. It’s just across the -hall yere, right opposide to dis.” - -“Thanky,” replied Mrs. Pole. “I’ll go and find out where it is, and much -obleeged to you. But then, dear, I will come back and stay long o’ you -until Mr. Stuart comes up.” - -“Quite right, Poley, dear,” replied Palma, who by this time had got her -boots off and her slippers out of her hand-bag and onto her feet, and -was sitting before the fire with her toes on the top of the fender. - -Polly took Mrs. Pole across the hall to the opposite room, which as to -size, windows and fireplace, was exactly like that of Palma’s, except -that it had a northern instead of a southern aspect, and was, therefore, -somewhat colder. It was also upholstered in curtain calico instead of -white dimity, and had a picture of the Washington family, instead of a -handsome mirror over the mantelpiece. But there was a fine fire burning -which filled the room with light and warmth. - -“Now, ma’am, if yer want anything as I can get you——” began Polly; but -Mrs. Pole interrupted and dismissed her. - -“No; thank you. Good-night,” she said. - -And Polly left the room. - -Pretty soon Mrs. Pole recrossed the hall and re-entered Palma’s -apartment. - -“Has the colored woman gone at last?” she inquired. - -“Yes, Poley. But what is the matter, dear? I do believe you are jealous -of that poor creature,” said Palma. - -“No, I am not; but I don’t like to be waited on and fussed over so much. -I don’t myself! It is all wrong and on false grounds. They treat me here -just as if I was a lady and——” began Mrs. Pole, but she in her turn was -interrupted by Palma, who said: - -“Poley, dear, they treat you as a respectable woman, and as they treat -all respectable women—that is, all respectable white women. You are to -be our housekeeper and, as such, one of the family. Don’t ‘kick against -the pricks,’ Poley, dear.” - -“I kick against anything? If you knew the stiffness of my joints through -sitting so long in the cars you wouldn’t be talking of me and kicking in -the same breath,” said Mrs. Pole with an injured air. - -Ringing steps, attended by shuffling feet, were heard coming along the -hall, and then the voice of Cleve Stuart saying: - -“That will do, ’Sias! Thank you. Good-night.” - -And the shuffling feet went back and the ringing steps came on, and the -door opened and Cleve Stuart entered the room. - -“Well, good-night, dearie, I’m gone. Good-night, Mr. Stuart,” said Mrs. -Pole. And rising from the second easy-chair into which she had thrown -herself she nodded and left them, regardless of Stuart’s good-natured -protestations that she must not let him drive her away. - -All our tired travelers “slept the sleep of the just” that night. - -As for Palma, she knew nothing from the time her head touched her pillow -until she opened her eyes the next morning. - -The room was dark, or lighted only by the red glow of the hickory wood -fire, and it was silent but for an occasional crackle of some brand that -was not of hickory, but of some more resinous wood that had found its -way in among the harder sort. - -Stuart was not by her side, nor anywhere in the room. Evidently he had -got up and dressed and left while she still slept soundly. - -Palma crept out of bed and crossed the floor to open the window, but as -she did so the chamber door was opened and the younger of the two negro -women came in. - -“‘Mornin’, ma’am,” she said brightly, smiling and showing her teeth. “I -was jes’ waitin’ outside o’ de do’ fo’ yo’ to wake up, to come in an’ -wait on yo’.” - -“You must have good ears,” said Palma. - -“Middlin’. But w’en I heerd de planks in de flo’ creak, den I knowed yo’ -was walkin’ across. I did brung up a pitcher o’ hot water fo’ yo’ an’ -put it on de ha’rf—dar it is, ma’am,” said the girl, and she stooped and -took up the pitcher and carried it over to the washstand. - -“Tell me your name,” said Palma softly. - -“Hatty, ma’am,” replied the girl, smiling brightly. And when she smiled -it was with a brilliancy unequaled in Palma’s experience of faces. -Hatty’s face was of the pure African type. There was not a drop of -Caucasian blood in her veins; but she was of the finest African type, -with fine crinkling, silky, black hair, with glowing black eyes, so -large, soft and shining that, with varying phases they might be called -black diamonds, black stars, or—when half closed with smiles or -laughter, and veiled with their long, thick, curled, black -lashes—sunlit, reed-shaded pools. Her nose was flat; her lips large and -red, and her teeth white as ivory. And when she laughed she seemed to be -a natural spring of mirth all by herself. And she was almost always -laughing, often silently. Few could look on the happy face of the child -without smiling in response. - -“Well, then, Hatty, I am afraid I am late. I hope I have not kept -anybody waiting.” - -The girl, who had gone to open the windows, turned and answered shortly: - -“Oh, Lor’, no, ma’am! De birds deirselves—w’ich it is de snowbirds, I -mean—ain’t been long up, an’ de sun hese’f hasn’ showed ’bove de -mount’in, dough he’s riz. See, ma’am!” - -She had drawn back the curtains and pulled up the shade, and now she -threw open the shutters. - -Palma came to the window and looked out. - -Oh! what a glorious sight! Yet, to be graphic, I must compare great -things to small, or at least illustrate the former by the latter. The -house from which she looked seemed now to be situated in the bottom of a -vast, deep, bowl-shaped valley, its colors now, in midwinter, dark -green, with gleams of snow-white, the whole canopied by deep blue, -flushed in the east by opal shades of rose, gold, violet, and emerald. -The mountains loomed all around in a circle of irregular peaks, all -thickly covered with pines, cedars, spruce and other evergreen trees, -which grew closest at the base and thinnest near the tops, which were -mostly bare, and now, in December, covered, with snow. - -Looking from the front window of her room Palma could see but half the -circle—the eastern half, made beautiful now by the rising sun. The sun -had not yet come in sight; but even as Palma gazed he suddenly sparkled -up from behind the cliffs, gilding all the opal hues of morning with -dazzling splendor. - -“Oh, what a happiness to live in a home like this!” she said to herself; -“how good one ought to be to become half worthy of it! Oh, my! oh, my!” - -She heard voices speaking below her window. In the clearness of the -atmosphere she recognized them as her husband’s and his uncle’s. - -The former was saying: - -“Why, they are not a bit afraid of you! They seem to know you.” - -“Oh, yes! they do.” - -And the speakers became silent. - -“It’s ole marse, a-feedin’ ob de snowbirds,” Hatty explained. “Ole marse -is jes’ a angel, ma’am! He’s good to eberybody an’ eberyfing.” - -“You love your master very much, then, Hatty?” said Palma. - -“Lub him? Dat ain’t no word for it! ’Cause, yo’ see, ma’am, I lubs so -many bodies an’ so many fings, too, even down to red ribbins an’ cakes! -But I puffickly ’dores ole marse!” said the girl, smiling until her eyes -closed and all the lines of her features were horizontal. - -Palma had gone to the washstand, where now the sound of splashing water -prevented the hearing of any talk. Then, while she was drying her face -and neck, she said: - -“Run, Hatty, and take my traveling dress from the hook in the closet, -and carry it out and shake it, and brush it, and bring it back to me. I -won’t take time now to unpack my trunks to get another.” - -Almost before she ceased to speak the girl, glad to serve her, had -darted into the closet, seized the dress, and was running off with it. - -By the time Palma had dried her skin and dressed her hair Hatty was back -with the dark blue flannel suit, looking as fresh as when it came out of -Lovelace & Silkman’s establishment. - -As soon as Palma finished her toilet she hurried downstairs and was met -at the foot by the aged master of the house, who had just come in from -his bird feeding. - -He wore a faded, dark blue dressing-gown, thickly wadded, and wrapped -closely about his fragile form. He looked, if possible, fairer, frailer -and more of a mere chrysalis than ever. - -“Good-morning, my dear,” he said. “You have slept well, I know, and have -risen to a beautiful day.” - -“Yes, dear uncle, and opened my eyes upon a beautiful scene! Ah! what a -happiness it is to live in such a lovely place! How much I thank you for -bringing us to such a heavenly place!” said Palma, taking and kissing -the pale hand that he had laid in silent blessing on her head. - -“How much I thank you for coming, dear child!” - -“Thank us for coming into paradise?” - -“Not paradise even in summer, when it is almost a Garden of Eden in the -dip of the mountains! But I hope it will be a very happy home to you and -yours. Remember that you are mistress here, of a house that has not had -a mistress for more than thirty years, when my dear niece, your -husband’s mother, married and left it.” - -“No, but I am your servant, uncle—your servant and daughter, whose duty -and delight will be to wait on you and minister to your comfort,” -murmured Palma. - -“Breakfast is ready, ma’am,” said Polly, the elderly negro woman, -opening the parlor door. - -“Come, my dear,” said Mr. Cleve, drawing Palma’s arm within his own and -leading her to the room, where the table was waiting and a splendid fire -was burning. - -“Where is Mr. Stuart and Mrs. Pole?” inquired Palma, looking around. - -“Go find them, Hatty,” ordered the master. But as he spoke Cleve entered -the room by the side door and laughingly greeted his wife with the -ironical question whether she was really “up for all day?” - -“You should have waked me,” said Palma. - -“No, no, he should not. I hold with the Koran and ‘never awaken a -sleeper’ unless, indeed, the occasion is sufficiently important, which -it was not this morning,” said Mr. Cleve as they all sat down to -breakfast. - -Mrs. Pole came in, convoyed by Hatty, who had found her upstairs setting -Palma’s room in order, and had taken upon herself to instruct the good -old woman that “age-able ole white ladies didn’t make up no beds when -there was colored young girls to do it for ’em.” - -When Mrs. Pole had greeted the company and taken her seat the master of -the house asked the blessing and breakfast went on. - -After the morning meal was ended and the table cleared away Mr. Cleve -said to Palma: - -“Now, my dear, when you feel disposed call Polly to show you all over -the house. And you will make any alterations you see fit, choose any -rooms that you may prefer for your private apartments, and make a list -of any furniture or household utensils that you may need or may like, -and they shall be bought. There is a good sleigh in the carriage house. -If you would like to take a drive, send Hatty to the stables to tell -Josias to clean it out and harness the horses. Do whatever you like, my -child.” - -“Thank you, dear uncle. I wish I knew what you would like, and that I -would do.” - -“I would like you to be happy, my child.” - -“Very well, then; thank you, uncle, I will,” exclaimed Palma with a -light laugh as she danced out of the room and tripped upstairs to her -own chamber to begin the work of unpacking and putting away her own and -her husband’s wardrobe, in which she was to be assisted by Mrs. Pole, -who soon entered the room. - -Never in her life had Palma been so happy, so lighthearted, so contented -with the present, so careless of the future. Even in her bridal days, -sickness and the shadow of death had been about her and had sobered, if -it had not darkened her delight. But now every cloud was lifted; the -present was full of joy, the future full of glad promise, and her own -soul overflowing with thankfulness to the Lord. - -Mrs. Pole was almost equally enchanted. - -“Now, Poley, we have both reached a haven of peace and safety that is -like a heavenly rest. Let us be good and obedient children to our Father -and Lord. That is all we can do to show our gratitude,” said Palma, who -was kneeling by the side of her great sea trunk, taking out clothing -piece by piece and handing them to her attendant, who was standing -before the bureau and who folded each article in turn and put it away. - -“Darling,” answered Mrs. Pole, “I do not think as ever I did such a good -and altogether profitable day’s work as I did that precious day when I -found you too ill to get out of bed and not a single soul to take care -of you; and when I said to myself as the week’s washing at Wilton’s -would have to go with my week’s wages into the bargin, and to-morrow -would have to take thought for itself, according to Scripture, for once, -for I was bound to stop long o’ you an’ nuss you. Lor’, child! I haven’t -too often walked by faith instead o’ by sight, but I did it that once, -and lo and behold! what’s come outen it! We have never parted from that -day to this, and here I am in my old age not only comfortable, but -luxurious pervided for.” - -“You ‘cast your bread upon the waters and after many days it has -returned to you,’” said Palma. - -“And, please the Lord, for the futur’ I do mean to try to be a better -woman,” said Mrs. Pole very earnestly. - -When their task was completed and everything was in order, Palma dropped -into an easy-chair, drew a deep breath, and said: - -“Now, Poley, it is but eleven o’clock, and there are three hours before -Uncle Cleve’s early dinner at two, so, if you like, we will send for -Aunt Polly—all the colored women who are past their youth are aunts, you -know; everybody’s aunts, Cleve says—we will send for Aunt Polly and get -her to show us all over our new little kingdom, this big, old house—its -dining-room, kitchen and pantry, its storerooms, china and linen -closets, its chambers, attics and cuddies, and all. Will you come, -Poley, dear?” - -“And you tired to death and out of breath now? No, my dear. No. You must -not exert yourself one bit more to-day. Now mind what I tell you, honey. -It is for your good and Its!” replied Mrs. Pole, with a solemn warning -shake of her head. - -“Very well, Poley, I will obey you. Cleve and uncle are shut up in the -parlor, talking business, I suppose, so I will sit here and sew until -dinner time, or until I am called,” said Palma. - -Mrs. Pole got up and went to the shelf in the closet and returned with -Palma’s workbasket, in which her sewing was already neatly arranged, and -set it down on the floor beside its owner. - -And Palma selected a tiny, half-finished garment that might have fitted -a medium doll, and began to sew some lace edging on it. And soon, in the -gayety of her heart, she began to sing at her work. - -Mrs. Pole got her own basket of infirm socks and stockings and began to -darn. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - UNCLE AND NEPHEW - - -While they were so occupied Mr. Cleve had closed the parlor door, -shutting himself in with his nephew for a long talk over their past and -present lives and future arrangements—though the earthly future of the -aged man would necessarily be very brief. - -The old gentleman wished rather to hear than to talk, and so he only -briefly reverted to the main events of his own life—his early -disappointment in love when his betrothed bride was taken ill and died a -few days before their intended marriage, and was buried in her bridal -dress on her wedding day. - -“Yet, no; she was not buried, only her left-off body was buried. She -lived! Oh! how vividly! how blessedly! how potently she lives! And I -shall soon see her again! After seventy years, my boy! after seventy -years! But what are they, in view of the life everlasting?” said the -aged man in conclusion of this reminiscence. - -Cleve Stuart made no reply, but pressed his uncle’s hand in reverential -silence. - -Then the old man spoke of the nephews who had borne his own name and -expected to inherit his estate, but who had both died, unmarried, of -wounds received in battle. Then he spoke of his long, vain search of his -niece’s son, Cleve Stuart, and of the chance by which he found him. - -“And now, my boy, that I have found you, let me say that I find you all -that I could wish, and your young wife—charming! But tell me about her, -Cleve. Who is she?” he inquired. - -“Palma is the daughter of the late James Jordan Hay and the -granddaughter of the late John Hayward Hay, of Haymore, in the North -Biding of Yorkshire, England,” replied Stuart. - -“Why—indeed! I knew the old squire. When I went to Europe in my young -manhood I reached England in the autumn, and through a letter of -introduction got an invitation to Mr. Storr’s, of Hoxton, where I stayed -for the Melton hunts and met Mr. Hay, of Haymore. Yes, the Hays, of -Haymore, are an ancient, historical, almost, I might say, an illustrious -family. I congratulate you, my boy, but more on the personal merit of -your young wife than on her family connections. Who represents the house -now at Haymore? Which of the three lads I found there?” - -Stuart, as briefly as possible, gave him the later family history. - -“What a fatality! All these fine boys to pass away in early manhood! And -the son of Cuthbert, the second brother, you say, inherits the manor. I -remember Cuthbert well. He was intended for the church. They called him -Cuddie. Now, tell me how you came to meet Palma. She was the daughter of -the youngest brother, James, you say.” - -“Yes; and after the death of her parents she was adopted by Judge and -Mrs. Barrn, who were my guardians. I met Palma in their house when I -first went there to live, and so knew her from her infancy up. I won her -pure affection then, and never afterward lost it, thank Heaven.” - -“An excellent knowledge and a blessed beginning. Now, tell me how it was -you lost your Mississippi plantation.” - -“I have not lost it. It is legally mine, but of no more use to me than -would be so many acres of waste land in the Sahara. The land is, indeed, -a desert, and the buildings a mass of charred ruins.” - -“Through the war?” - -“Yes, of course. Mansion house, stables, barns, mills, negroes’ quarters -fired and burned to the ground; stock all driven off; negroes -conscripted. The place is a ruin and a wilderness; it would take many -thousand dollars to reclaim it.” - -The old man sighed, but made no reply. - -Then Stuart told him frankly of the desperate straits to which he had -been reduced at the time when his uncle’s letter came to him so -opportunely. - -Mr. Cleve was shocked. - -“If I had known! If I had only known!” he said. - -But in all his narrative Stuart never mentioned the name or existence of -either Lamia Leegh or Gentleman Geff. It was bad enough, he thought, to -trouble the old gentleman’s calm spirit with the tale of want; but it -would have been far worse to have darkened and depressed it with the -story of falsehood and treachery. - -The early dinner bell brought the family together, and around the table -were only happy faces. All the painful past was for the time forgotten. - -The afternoon was beautiful. - -The large old sleigh was brushed out, lined with buffalo skins and -blankets, and brought around to the front door by two swift horses. And -the four—Mr. Cleve, Mrs. Pole, Stuart and Palma—took a ride; the first -pair seated on the back seat, the second on the front seat, and Josias, -the coachman, on the box. - -They took the road that skirted the base of the mountains, on the -inside, and went in a circle around the plantation. On this road, under -the shelter of the mountains, stood the negroes’ quarters—log huts, -large and small, from one room to two, three or even four, according to -the necessities of the occupants. The men and boys were all away at such -farm work as the season permitted, and the women were engaged in -washing, ironing, cooking, or carding and spinning wool. Their open -doors showed their occupations, and showed also the bright pine wood -fires that so warmed their huts as to permit these open doors. - -The sleigh passed too swiftly for the party in it to return half the -nods and smiles with which their passage was greeted. - -“Uncle,” said Palma, “you appear to me like a patriarch of old living -among his tribe.” - -“Yes, dear child, with this exception—the patriarchs were men of large -families, with many sons and daughters, and sons-in-law and -daughters-in-law, and innumerable grandchildren and great-grandchildren -to the third and fourth generation, to rise up and call them blessed. -And I—have none.” - -“Oh! uncle, dear, you have us. We love you; indeed, we do. And we will -serve you as tenderly and devotedly as any children could.” - -“I know it, my dear; I know it. And I thank the Lord for sending you to -me.” - -“And I thank the Lord that you let us come. And, oh! uncle, I wish we -could multiply ourselves into a tribe of many generations to serve and -bless you.” - -“All in good time, my little love; all in good time,” said the old man -with a twinkle in his glowing brown eyes. - -The three miles’ circuit of the road was completed, and they reached the -house just as the winter sun was winking out of sight behind the western -peak. - -“The first day the ground will admit of walking I shall go on foot to -make the acquaintance of all your interesting people, Uncle Cleve. I -liked the glimpses I got of them as we flew by,” said Palma as she gave -her hand to her husband and sprang out of the sleigh. - -“Yes, my child, so you shall,” replied the old man as he in his turn -alighted with the assistance of both Stuart and Palma. “So you shall, my -dear. And there are some few neighbors and some distant relatives of -ours with whom you must soon make acquaintance.” - -“Who are they, uncle, dear?” inquired Palma as she entered the house on -the old man’s arm, followed by Stuart and Mrs. Pole, while ’Sias drove -the sleigh around to the stables. - -“I will tell you presently, dear,” replied Mr. Cleve. - -In the hall Palma laid off her fur cloak and hood and gave them to Hatty -to take upstairs. Stuart helped his uncle off with his overcoat and -muffler. - -When they had all returned to the oak parlor, where the great fire had -been replenished, and were seated around the hearth enjoying the glow, -and while Polly was passing in and out setting the tea table, Mr. Cleve -said: - -“We have no very near relations left in this world. We who sit here are -the nearest of kin to each other. Still, you know, Virginians are as -clannish as highlanders.” - -“Yes, indeed. I remember that much of my beloved mother. No matter how -distant the relationship or how humble or even unworthy the individual, -my dear mother always held sacred the claims of kindred. My poor father, -who was not so clannish, used to laugh at her a little and ask: - -“‘Why do you not take in all the human race at once, since all are Sons -and daughters of our first parents, and brothers and sisters of -ourselves?’” - -“Well, he was right,” commented the old man. - -“But excuse me for interrupting you, uncle. You were speaking of our -kindred in this country, and we are anxious to hear of them.” - -“Well, my boy, there are the Gordons, of Gordondell; they are our third -cousins, and live about seven miles south of this on the Staunton road. -They are a large family of three generations, living in one house; but -they are all Gordons. Then there are the Bells, of the Elms; only two, a -bachelor brother and maiden sister, living on their little place just -beyond Wolfswalk. And the Clydes, my dears, who live in the village, and -keep a general store. There is a young father and mother and half a -dozen children. That is all. They are all more or less injured by the -war, and are poor, and—some of them—somewhat embittered by their losses; -but they are our kindred, and we must have them all here to meet you in -the coming Christmas holidays.” - -“Tea is on the table, ma’am,” said Polly. - -And the party left the fireside and gathered around the table. - -The sleigh ride had given them all fine appetites, and they enjoyed -their repast. - -After it was over, and the evening worship was offered up, the little -family separated and retired to rest. - -And so ended the first day at Wolfscliff; the first, also, of many happy -days. - -The cousins did not wait to be invited. The news of the new arrival at -the Hall was soon spread through the neighborhood by the negroes, and -neighbors and relatives lost no time in calling on the young pair. - -And yet these were not so truly calls as visits, for when any one came -to the house they arrived in the morning to stay all day and take dinner -and tea. They expected this, and it was also expected of them. - -The very first to come were the Gordons, who arrived early in the -morning a few days before Christmas. They came in a big ox cart, and -filled it. There was old Mr. and Mrs. Gordon, an ancient couple nearly -ninety years of age, bowed, shriveled and white-haired, yet, withal, -right merry; and their bachelor brother and maiden sister, Mr. Tommy and -Miss Nancy Gordon, as aged and as merry as themselves; then there was -the son and daughter, Col. and Mrs. George Gordon, both stout, rosy and -full of the enjoyment of this life, and their middle-aged bachelor -brother and maiden sister, Mr. Henry and Miss Rebecca Gordon. And there -were seven young men and three young women between the ages of fifteen -and twenty-seven. But, really, it would take up too much time and space -to tell you all their names and ages and characters. They were a happy, -rollicking set of young people. - -They had not been much hurt either in mind, body or estate by the war, -and were neither depressed nor embittered. - -Then came the two old folks from the Elms. And, finally, the Clydes, -from the village. - -And besides these, neighbors came; old families who had been in the -land, as the Cleves had, from the first settlement by the English—the -Hills, the Ords, and the Balls—all of whom lived within ten miles of -Wolfscliff. - -And all of these kinsfolks and neighbors were warmly welcomed at -Wolfscliff, and well liked by Cleve and Palma. - -Christmas brought its usual festivities at the home, but also a -snowstorm that commenced on the morning of Christmas Eve and continued -all day and all night and all the next day, covering the ground two feet -deep, and toward the close of the second day, when the wind rose, -drifting in places several yards deep. - -This made it impossible for the families at Wolfscliff to leave the -house; but Mr. Cleve held service in the large drawing-room, where all -his people from the plantation, as well as the members of his household, -were collected. - -And when the service was over Christmas gifts were distributed, mostly -in articles of clothing, to the servants. To Palma he gave a casket of -pearls and rubies that had been his mother’s; to Stuart he gave a fine -horse, with new saddle and bridle, that he had within a few days past -purchased from a neighbor. - -Cleve and Palma gave to him an olive-green velveteen dressing-grown and -skullcap to match, which they had purchased for this very purpose; and -to the servants each they gave a piece of gold coin, having nothing else -to offer them. And then the congregation dispersed joyfully. - -The snowstorm continued, with a high wind. The contemplated dinner party -for the twenty-seventh had to be given up. The state of the road made -travel impossible for several days. - -One of the first expeditions abroad was made by Josias, who, mounted on -a stout mule, tried to reach the post office at Wolfswalk. It took him -all day to go and come, but he succeeded, and late in the evening -brought back letters and parcels that had been forwarded from New York -to the Stuarts—letters and parcels that bore the London and the Haymore -postmarks. The first were from the London solicitors of the Hays, of -Haymore, and contained the information that certain railway, mining and -manufacturing shares had been transferred from the name of Randolph Hay -to that of Palma Hay Stuart, and were at her disposal, and included the -bonds—for, after all, self-indulgent Will Walling had decided not to -take the long journey to the mountains of Virginia in the midst of -winter, but to forward the documents by mail, and without even an -explanatory letter from himself. - -“I think you will have no trouble in finding the funds for the -reclamation of your Mississippi estate,” said John Cleve with a smile as -he received the information which Stuart seemed proud and glad to give -him. “Your wife’s cousin is a noble, generous fellow. Whom did he -marry?” - -Cleve Stuart was for a moment dumfounded by the question. He had not so -far risen above conventionality as not to feel much embarrassment in -replying. - -“Miss Judith Man, of California,” answered Palma, on seeing that Stuart -had found nothing to say. - -“Ah! Who was she?” next inquired Mr. Cleve. - -“The best, the noblest, the loveliest girl I ever met with in my life!” -warmly responded Palma. - -“Ah! that is well, very well! Of what family was she?” persevered the -old gentleman, who was completely unconscious of the embarrassment his -questions were causing. - -“I really do not know, uncle, dear,” answered Palma. - -“I do not think we ever inquired,” replied Stuart, speaking at last. - -“Ah! well, it does not matter, so that she is a good, true girl, worthy -of the noble young fellow,” said Mr. Cleve. - -“She is all that, uncle,” said Stuart. - -Palma and Stuart then opened their letters. They were from Ran and Judy, -telling them of their arrival at Haymore, their reception of Gentleman -Geff and his “lady,” and, indeed, of all the events that transpired in -the first few days of their stay at the Hall, and of which our readers -are already informed; making no mention of the transfer of stocks from -Ran to Palma; but renewing and pressing their invitation that the -Stuarts would visit them in England during the next summer. Of course, -Ran and Judy at the time of writing their letter had not heard of Cleve -and Palma’s removal to West Virginia. - -Palma was so little a worshiper of Mammon that she was much more -delighted with the faithful affection revealed in these letters than -with the accession of fortune that accompanied them. - -She flew upstairs to answer them. She was earnest in her thanks for -Ran’s magnanimity in giving her so noble a share in their grandfather’s -fortune; but she was even more earnest in her appreciation of Judy’s -friendship and their mutual invitation to herself and Cleve. She had, -however, to explain why neither of them could take advantage of the -offered opportunity of visiting their friends in England, by telling -them of her own and her husband’s change of residence and new-found -happiness in the country home of their aged uncle, and of the -impossibility that they should leave him while his presence on earth -should be spared to them. - -Cleve Stuart also answered Ran’s letters in very much the same strain, -giving the same thanks with much deprecation, and offering the same -explanations. - -These letters were all taken to the post office the next morning. - -In another week the weather moderated and the snow melted. But traveling -was, if possible, more difficult than before, for the roads were sloughs -of mud. - -But within doors, at Wolfscliff, all was pleasant, comfortable and -happy. - -Only Mrs. Pole complained of having too little to do. But her special -grievance did not last very long, for—— - -On the morning of the fourteenth of February Palma Stuart received from -Above, in trust for earth and heaven, a most precious valentine, in the -form of a pair of twins, a fine boy and girl. And no more grateful and -delighted mother dwelling on the “footstool” that day raised her heart -in prayer and thanksgiving to the Throne. - -No prouder father lived than Stuart, no happier uncle than John Cleve, -nor more important nurse than Mary Pole. She had enough to do now, both -day and night, to nurse mother and babes. - -On the very first visit Stuart was allowed to make at the bedside of his -wife, when he had kissed her with deep feeling, and had admired the -twins to his heart’s content, she said to him: - -“Cleve, dear, of course our boy must be named John Cleve, after dear -uncle and yourself. But our little girl? Will you please ask uncle if he -will let us call her Clarice, after his own dear angel love?” - -“Well thought of, darling. I know he will be pleased. I will ask him as -soon as I go downstairs,” warmly responded Cleve Stuart. - -“And you must go now, sir, if you please. She must be quiet and go to -sleep if she can,” said Mrs. Pole from the eminence of her new -authority. - -Stuart meekly bowed his head and obeyed. - -The result of Palma’s proposal was this: Early in the afternoon, when -she had had a good sleep, had awakened and taken refreshment, and was -resting in peace and bliss, the old gentleman came quietly into the -room, sat down beside her, and said softly: - -“I thank you, my dear. May the Lord bless you, and may He bless your -dear babes—little Clarice and John.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - AN EARTHLY PARADISE - - -Spring opens early on the southwestern section of Virginia, and leaves, -flowers and birds come soon. - -Palma and her babies were out with the violets and the bluebirds. And no -one could have more enjoyed the beautiful weather in this glorious scene -than the city-bred girl. - -Even in April, the cup-shaped vale, shut in by green-wooded mountains, -seemed a Garden of Eden, or the fairy “Valley of Calm Delights.” - -Stuart had taken to agricultural life as to his native element, and -often declared his delight in it, and expressed his wonder how he, the -descendant of a hundred generations of farmers, could have been -contented to live in a city. - -Directly after breakfast every morning he mounted his horse and rode out -afield to look after the laborers. Certainly, much of the theory and -practice of farming he had to learn from his uncle; but he was an apt -pupil. So apt, he said to Palma, that his learning seemed to him more -like the recollection of forgotten knowledge than the acquisition of new -ideas. - -Palma, for her part, loved to put her two babies in the double -perambulator that had been brought from the nearest town for their use, -and, attended by Hatty, wheel them out to the road that ran around the -vale and was dotted with the log huts and little gardens of the negroes -on the side next to the mountain. This was like a royal progress. -Everywhere the young mother and children were greeted with joy by the -colored women and girls in the cabins. - -On week days none but women and children could be found there; all the -men were afield. - -On Sunday they would all, or nearly all, go to church; and it was a -strange thing that a little community, numbering less than one hundred, -men, women and children all counted, should include so many religious -sects; for here were to be found Catholics, Episcopalians, -Presbyterians, Methodists and Baptists. I think that was all; for of -finer sub-divisions of doctrine or opinion they knew nothing, and a more -Christian community than the people of this plantation, notwithstanding -their sectarian differences, could scarcely be found anywhere. And this -was owing, in a great measure, to the teachings and example of their -master—a pure Christian. - -He was accustomed to say to them: - -“By whatever sectarian name you choose to call yourselves matters -little; be Christian. ‘The disciples were called Christians first at -Antioch.’ ‘For there is no other name under heaven given among men -whereby we must be saved but that of Christ.’” - -Old ’Sias being asked one day by a stranger as to his religious faith -and experience answered that he was Christian, and his law of life was -love of God and his neighbor. - -The people loved their master well. Not one left him when emancipation -was proclaimed. Even the young men, who longed to see life, would not -leave old master while he should live on earth. - -Old Cleve was the friend, teacher and patriarch of his people. - -Never in his life, however, had the old man been so happy as at present. -The society of Stuart, Palma and their babies opened new springs of joy -in his heart and home. He loved to spend hours reclining in his -easy-chair on the piazza, with the young mother seated near him and the -infants in their pretty basket cradle beside her, while Mrs. Pole would -be looking after household affairs within, and Stuart would be -supervising agricultural matters afield. - -The twins were little more than two months old when John Cleve saw, or -thought he saw, a growing likeness between the tiny Clarice and the -angel for whom she was named. As for him, he was waiting the call to -come and rejoin his own Clarice in one of the many mansions of our -Father’s house. - -Nor was the summons long delayed. - -It was a lovely morning in May. - -The vale was more like than ever to a Garden of Eden. It was a chalice -full of bloom, fragrance and music lifted up in offering to Heaven. - -Stuart was absent on horseback, riding from field to field, overlooking -the workmen. - -All the other members of the family were gathered on the front porch. - -Mrs. Pole, with a pair of shears in her hands, was walking about the -place, carefully clipping a few dead leaves from the rose vines that -climbed about the pillars. She had taken to gardening with as much -enthusiasm as Stuart had taken to farming. - -Palma sat on a little, low chair, busy with her needlework. At her feet -stood the pretty basket cradle in which lay the twin babes, sleeping. - -Near them sat John Cleve, reclining in a large resting-chair. His hands -were folded before him, and he was gazing out upon the scene with a face -illumined by reverence and serene rapture. Not a word had he spoken -since the babies went to sleep. Now he murmured: - -“Oh! the beauty and the glory of Thy sunlit earth and heavens, our -Father.” - -The words seemed to issue involuntarily from the lips of the speaker in -the midst of the deep silence. - -“Oh! the loveliness of Thy celestial angels!” he murmured in a lower and -a slower tone. - -Palma looked up from her sewing. - -He did not speak again. - -She turned around to look at him. - -He had sunk back in his chair and shrunken together. His hands lay -folded on his knees, his head bowed on his chest, and his silver hair -shining in the morning sunlight. His face could not possibly be whiter -than it had always been since she had known him, but something else in -his aspect startled and alarmed her. - -She sprang up and went to him, bent over him, and laid her hand on his -shoulder. - -“Uncle! Uncle!” she said softly but eagerly, anxiously—“Uncle!” - -“Don’t distress—yourself, dear—it is all right—bless you.” - -These were his last words. His whole slight frame seemed to collapse and -shrink closer together, his head sank lower, his hands slipped apart and -dropped down by his sides. - -When Mrs. Pole, startled by some sound, hurried to the spot, she found -Palma in a panic of grief and amazement too deep for utterance, standing -over the lifeless body of the good old man. - -Mrs. Pole in great emergencies had but little self-possession. - -She threw up her hands in horror, and then ran wildly in and out of the -house, shrieking: - -“Polly! Hatty! ’Sias!” - -And as the frightened servants came running at her call, the women from -the kitchen, the man from the lawn, they found the young mistress down -on the floor at the feet of the dead master, with her hands clasped -around his knees and her head bowed upon them, sobbing as if her heart -must break. Tears had come and broken the trance of sorrow. - -“Run for the doctor! Run for Mr. Stuart! Run all of you!” cried Mrs. -Pole. - -And the servants ran in all directions to spread the news or to bring -efficient help. - -Mrs. Pole went to Palma. - -“Get up, my dear child! Let me help you up.” - -“Don’t—don’t,” gasped Palma in a smothered tone. - -“Come, come with me,” persisted the woman, taking hold of her arm and -trying to lift her. - -“Leave me! Leave me!” cried the mourner, clinging the closer to her -dead, and continuing obdurate to all entreaty. - -Cleve Stuart, found and summoned by ’Sias, soon came galloping up to the -house, threw himself off his horse and hurried up on the porch. - -One look of awe, sorrow and reverence to the changed face of his uncle -showed him what had happened. Then he looked on his wife. - -“Make her get up, sir. Do make her get up. I can’t get her to move from -that!” sobbed Mrs. Pole. - -“When did this happen?” inquired Stuart in a low tone. - -“Not twenty minutes ago, I reckon, though I’m not sure. It was as quick -as lightning. One moment he was talking bright and cheerful, and the -next moment he was gone like a flash! Oh! make her get up, sir. She will -kill herself.” - -“Palma, dear, you must let me take you in,” he said, laying his hand -gently on the bowed head of his wife. - -But sobs were her only reply. - -“Palma, we will have to take him in and lay him on his bed. Come with me -first.” - -But she only wept and sobbed. - -With gentle force he took her arms from around the dead, lifted her, -bore her into the parlor, laid her on the sofa and called Polly to -attend her. - -He returned to the porch, told Mrs. Pole to look after the babies and -leave everything else to him, and called the grief-stricken ’Sias to -help him to carry the dead into the house. - -It was a very light weight for so tall and broad-shouldered a man, but, -then, it was but little more than skin and bone, a human chrysalis. - -They bore it to the chamber in the rear of the parlor on the ground -floor, that had been John Cleve’s sleeping-room. Here they laid it on -the bed to await the arrival of the family physician. The latter could -do no good, but all the same he must come. - -Not until afternoon could the busy country doctor, whose practice -extended over many miles, be found and brought to Wolfscliff. - -He was conducted by Stuart to the room of death. - -“A death from old age, pure and simple,” was the verdict of science. - -“Did you ever see a body more thoroughly consumed by the life of the -spirit? I have known Mr. Cleve all my life, as my father and my -grandfather knew him before me, and I never knew of, or heard of, his -having a day’s illness,” concluded Dr. Osborne as they sat together -beside the bed. - -“He was a saint prepared for heaven,” reverently replied the young man. - -Then they arose, and standing on each side of the bed, drew the sheet up -over the calm, cold face and left the room together. - -The doctor went away, kindly offering to transact any business that was -now required for the family and for the deceased at Wolfswalk. - -Stuart went to inquire about the condition of his wife. - -Polly had put her to bed, and Mrs. Pole had laid her sleeping infants in -with her, the one on her right side and the other on her left. They were -the best sedatives, for the tender mother was obliged to control herself -for fear of disturbing them. - -Mrs. Pole, now as quiet and decorous as in the morning she had been -noisy and turbulent, sat in a large easy-chair, watching the three. - -As Stuart softly opened the door she raised her finger in warning, and -then silently arose and went to him. - -“She has just fallen asleep herself. I wouldn’t speak to her now, if I -was you. She is sleeping very quiet,” she said in a low tone. - -“Thank Heaven! Take care of her, Mrs. Pole,” murmured Cleve in a low -tone as he withdrew. - -Mrs. Pole closed the door and went back to resume her watch. - -Three days later the mortal body of John Cleve, of Wolfscliff, was borne -to the family burial ground on the plateau on one of the hills that -looked up to the sky. It was followed by a great concourse of people, -consisting of kindred, friends, servants and neighbors from far and -near. - -The services were concluded there, with these few words of such divine -love and truth that I quote them here for the comfort they may give to -all sorrowing souls who grieve because they think, and think wrongly, -that they have laid their loved ones in the grave. - -The minister said: - -“‘And now, having performed the last service of love to our dear brother -by laying his body in the earth from which it came, we leave it there, -as he has left it, to follow him by faith to his eternal home.’” - -Will my readers note the use of the pronouns there? There is deep -meaning in that. - -After the obsequies, life went on very calmly at Wolfscliff. - -Stuart and Palma wrote every week to their friends in England, and quite -as often got letters from them. - -Again Ran and Judy urged Stuart and Palma to come and visit them, as -there was nothing now to keep the latter at Wolfscliff. They wrote that -they had given up their plan of leaving Haymore Hall to study in London. -That the attractions of the country and the home were so great that they -could not tear themselves away from it. That they had formed attachments -not only to the place, but to the people. That they should remain there, -and that the Rev. James Campbell had undertaken to direct their studies, -and they expected to derive quite as much—if not more—benefit from his -instructions as they could from professional teachers. - -The correspondence resulted in a promise from the Stuarts to run over to -England after the wheat harvest should be gathered. - -It was while Stuart was thinking of setting a certain day for their -embarkation and purchasing their tickets that a strange visitor arrived -at Wolfscliff. - -It was a glorious day in the latter part of June. - -Stuart was afield, looking after the wheat. - -Palma was seated on the front piazza, with her babies placed face to -face in their cradle on her right hand, and her workbasket, overflowing -with work, on her left. - -She was singing to herself in a low key when she heard the sound of -wheels on the gravel walk. - -Looking up, she saw the hack from the Wolfshead tavern, at Wolfswalk, -approaching. It drew up before the porch. - -The coachman got off his box and went to the carriage door and opened -it. - -A gentleman got out—a tall, thin man of about forty years of age, with -dark, reddish-brown hair and beard. - -Palma laid aside her work and stood up to receive the visitor. - -He came up the steps of the piazza, stopped, raised his hat, and as he -looked at the childlike young matron before him, said with some -hesitation: - -“Mrs.—Stuart? Have I the honor of speaking to Mrs. Stuart?” - -“That is my name, sir,” replied Palma politely. - -He bowed and handed her a card, on which she read: “The O’Melaghlin, -Carrick Arghalee, Antrim, Ireland.” - -“Will you come into the house, sir? Mr. Stuart is not here at present, -but he is not far off, and I will send for him at once,” said Palma, -leading the way into the hall and touching a call-bell as she passed a -stand. - -“Thank you, madam,” said the stranger, following her. - -She conducted him into the drawing-room, gave him a seat and turned to -speak to Hatty, who had come in answer to the bell. - -“Ask Mrs. Pole, please, to go to the children on the piazza. Then send -’Sias to look for Mr. Stuart, to tell him that there is a gentleman here -waiting to see him, and give him this card,” said Palma, putting the -slip of pasteboard into the girl’s hands. - -“Is ’Sias for to gib dis to young marster?” inquired Hatty, dubiously. - -“Yes, certainly. Go away now and do your errands. Go to Mrs. Pole -first,” said the anxious young mother. And then she sat down near the -front window, through which, from time to time, she could glance out and -see that no harm should come to the babies until the arrival of her -relief sentinel, Mrs. Pole. - -Palma was not very well versed in the ways of the world, yet she felt it -incumbent on her to entertain the stranger, but she did not exactly know -how to do it. - -“You are recently from Ireland. I have some very dear friends of that -country. Indeed, my nearest kinsman married a young girl of that -nation.” - -“Yes; I am aware of that fact. Mr. Randolph Hay married Miss Judith -Man—that brings me here to-day. But as for myself, I have not seen -Ireland for twenty-one years,” said the stranger. - -Palma looked up in surprise. - -“I have been in California, Colorado, Australia, Tasmania, Cape -Colony—everywhere else but in my native land,” continued the visitor. - -Palma looked up inquiringly. - -“And I came last from California,” concluded the stranger. - -Palma suddenly remembered that it was rude to stare in silence at any -one, especially at a visitor in one’s own house; so she dropped her eyes -and said demurely: - -“I am glad you knew Judith Man, Mrs. Randolph Hay, of Haymore, my cousin -by marriage.” - -“I don’t know her at all. All the same, she is my daughter—my only -daughter—and I hope to find her soon, with your assistance, and to make -her acquaintance. It is for that purpose that I am here,” said the -stranger. - -Now Palma stared in right good earnest, without once thinking whether -she was rude or not. Moreover, she committed another breach of good -manners—she echoed his words: - -“Your daughter!” she exclaimed in astonishment and incredulity. “I never -did hear of such a thing!” - -“Perhaps not,” said the visitor, laughing good-humoredly; “but it is -true, nevertheless. And, besides, there are a great many million - - “‘More things in heaven and earth’ - -than you ever did hear of, or ever will hear of, my dear young lady.” - -“I beg your pardon, sir; but indeed I was so taken by surprise!” said -Palma, apologetically, and with a pretty blush. - -“Not at all!” exclaimed the stranger, rather irrelevantly. “Say no more -about it; but tell me something of my son and my daughter. You said -nothing about my son, yet I have been told that they are both equally -and intimately well known to you and to your excellent husband. What are -these young people like, madam, if you please?” - -“Mike and Judy? They are both lovely! Just lovely!” warmly responded -Palma. - -“That is exceedingly complimentary, and would be highly satisfactory, -only it is not quite exact enough. A rose is lovely, so is a pearl, so -is a fawn, so is a baby.” - -“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the young mother. - -“So many things are lovely, you see, that to say they are lovely gives -me no clear idea of them. Be more precise, dear lady.” - -“Oh, then, they are so good, so sweet—but I think I had better show you -their photographs,” said Palma, with sudden inspiration. - -“The very thing!” exclaimed the visitor. - -Palma sprang up and ran like an eager child to the other end of the -drawing-room and to an _etagere_ that stood in the corner, and took from -it a large-paged but thin photograph album, with which she returned to -her visitor. - -“This book,” she said, “contains only the pictures of our dearest -friends. There are not more than thirty-three pictures in the -collection; but then there are in some cases several of each person. I -will show you Mike’s and Judy’s.” - -“No!” exclaimed the visitor. “Pray let me have the book and see if I can -find them for myself. I have never seen them. You are naturally amazed -to hear me say that, but you shall know the reason of the fact in good -time,” said The O’Melaghlin, as he received the book from Palma, who, -having placed it in his hands, resumed her seat, watched him as he -turned over the leaves, and speculated with much interest whether he -would be able to identify the pictures of his son and daughter, whom he -had never seen. - -Presently his face lighted up. - -“Here they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to the open pages that presented -full-length cabinet photographs of Mike and Judy—the former being on the -left-hand page and the latter on the right. - -“Yes, you are right,” replied Palma in surprise; “but how could you -tell?” - -“Because this,” he replied, laying his finger on Judy’s picture, “is a -perfect likeness of my dear lost Moira; and this,” he added, indicating -Mike’s, “is as like her as a youth can be like his mother.” - -“They are faithful likenesses of the twin brother and sister,” replied -Palma. - -“Now tell me, my dear young lady, about my boy and girl.” - -“Your daughter, I have said, is sweet and good and very dear to us all -who know her. To say that she is married to one of the wealthiest land -owners of one of the oldest families in Yorkshire would be true, but it -would not be so much as to say that her husband is one of the best, the -truest, the most generous and most magnanimous of men.” - -“Your praise is enthusiastic, therefore extravagant.” - -“It could not be. Ask Judy herself.” - -“Ask a young woman still in love! She would be a very impartial witness, -no doubt,” laughed The O’Melaghlin. “But now about my boy?” - -“He is altogether worthy of his sister and his brother-in-law. I could -not say any more for him than that.” - -“Which is to say that he is good, true and brave.” - -“Yes, he is all that.” - -“But his objects in life?” - -“To be of the best use to any whom he may serve; and the better to do -this, he wishes to get a good education.” - -“Quite right! And he is young enough still to go to college, not being -quite twenty years of age.” - -“Oh, I am so glad for his sake that you have come forward; because -Michael has that spirit of independence that he shrinks from being -indebted to his good brother-in-law for his college fees.” - -“Quite right is that also. He is a true O’Melaghlin, and I am proud of -him! And now, my dear young lady, you may be wondering how I discovered -yourself and your husband and your connection—happy connection for -them—with my children.” - -“It has been equally happy for us, sir, indeed. Michael and Judith are -among our most esteemed friends.” - -“I am glad to hear you say so, dear madam.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - THE KINGLY O’MELAGHLINS - - -At this moment Cleve Stuart so quietly entered the room that Palma was -not aware of his entrance until he stood before her. - -“Mr. O’Melaghlin—Mr. Stuart,” she said, presenting the gentlemen to each -other. - -The visitor arose and both bowed. - -“I bring a letter of introduction for you, sir, from the Messrs. -Walling, of New York,” said The O’Melaghlin, drawing from his breast a -neat, open envelope and handing it to Mr. Stuart. - -Cleve took it with a bow. - -On the envelope, besides the superscription—“To Cleve Stuart, Esq., -Wolfscliff, W. V.,”—there was written between brackets, in the corner: -“To introduce The O’Melaghlin, Carrick Arghalee, Antrim.” - -Now, the use of the definite article as the prefix of a man’s surname -had been a puzzle to Palma, and even a surprise to Cleve, though he -remembered that in the north of Ireland, as well as in Scotland, it was -affected by certain heads of families among the landed gentry of ancient -lineage, and considered to outrank either plain “Mr.” or “Squire.” -O’Melaghlin, therefore, must be recognized as The O’Melaghlin. - -“With your permission,” said Stuart, with a bow, as he opened the -letter, which was as follows—and rather more than sarcastic in its -peculiar style, as Cleve thought when he read it, though he hoped and -believed that the bearer of the letter had not—if he had read the -words—perceived the sarcasm: - - “OFFICE OF WALLING & WALLING, Att’ys, Etc. - “New York, May 8, 187—. - - “CLEVE STUART, ESQ., Wolfscliff, W. V.: I have the great honor to - present—you—to The O’Melaghlin, of Carrick Arghalee, Antrim, Ireland. - - “The O’Melaghlin is of the most ancient Irish, royal lineage, being - directly descended from the O’Melaghlins, monarchs of Meath, whose - kingdom was ravaged by Henry the Second, A. D. 1173, and given to one - of his thievish followers, a disreputable carpet-bagger, called Hugh - de Lacy. - - “The O’Melaghlin hails now from Antrim because his ancestor, - Patricious O’Melaghlin, in the reign of Edward the First, 1285, - married Mona, sole child and heiress of Fergus of Arghalee, and - subsequently became lord of Carrick Arghalee, in right of his wife. - From this illustrious pair, representing a royal and a noble family - united, The O’Melaghlin is directly descended. - - “It would be highly impertinent in so humble an individual as myself - to write of this gentleman’s merits and accomplishments. Should he - honor you with his acquaintance, you will discover them for yourself. - You will also hear from him in what manner you can have the - distinction of serving him. - - “With compliments and congratulations to yourself and Mrs. Stuart on - the present proud occasion, I remain, your faithful servant, - - WILLIAM WALLING.” - -“Will Walling is a scamp, and merits a kicking for his impudence,” was -Stuart’s half-earnest, half-jesting mental criticism on this letter and -its writer. He thought he knew the reason for Will Walling’s sneers; he -thought it was more than likely that The O’Melaghlin had repelled the -genial Will and “kept him at a distance.” He folded the letter, put it -in his pocket, and once more offered his hand to the visitor, saying: - -“I am very happy to see you here, sir, and shall be very much pleased if -I can serve you.” - -“I thank you, Wolfscliff!” exclaimed The O’Melaghlin, giving his host -his territorial title as if they had been in Antrim. “I thank you, sir. -You have given me the hand of a friend, and although you may not at this -moment recall the fact, you have given me the hand of a kinsman! Yes, -sir, I am proud to say of a kinsman!” and he gave that hand a grip that -crippled it for a week. - -“A kinsman, O’Melaghlin!” exclaimed Cleve—he would have given great -offense if he had addressed his guest as Mr. O’Melaghlin—“I am very much -flattered, but I do not understand!” - -“Ah, then, Wolfscliff, is not your family name Stuart?” - -“Certainly.” - -“And have you not a lawful right to that name?” - -“Undoubtedly.” - -“And do you not spell it S-t-u-a-r-t?” - -“I do.” - -“Then you are my kinsman on the distaff side! Yes, there is but one root -of the tree of Stuart, and that is the old royal root that grew fast in -Scottish ground, and every one who lawfully bears the name of Stuart is -a leaf of that same tree.” - -“Granted,” said Cleve, with perhaps a faint leaven of sinful pride, -“granted that my ancestor seven generations back was Charles Stuart, -called the Young Pretender, how should that make us kinsmen?” - -“I am afraid, young Wolfscliff, that you do not keep yourself well -posted up in your family genealogy,” said The O’Melaghlin. - -“Indeed I do not,” replied Stuart, with a laugh. “I fear I know little -or nothing with certainty of my family on either side the house previous -to their emigration to America. Why, O’Melaghlin, do you know if I could -become a candidate for the highest office in this country, and knew who -was my grandfather, it would be a grave objection to me in the minds of -this democratic and republican people—unless, indeed, I could prove that -he was a tramp, a gypsy, or, at the very best, a day laborer!” - -The O’Melaghlin stroked his long, rusty red beard and slowly shook his -head. - -“The human race is going to ruin,” he said. - -“But will you kindly explain how it is that we are of kin, sir?” said -Palma hesitatingly. - -“Surely, my dear young lady—surely. The facts are these: From -prehistoric ages, in the dark before the dawn of time or of its record, -to which the memory of mankind goeth not back. The O’Melaghlins were -monarchs of Munster.” - -“And lived in caves, and dressed in skins, and when a young king wanted -a wife he walked into the next kingdom with his club on his shoulders, -knocked down the first young girl he saw and brought her away on his -back. Was it not so?” archly suggested Palma. - -“Faith! I think you are right, ma’am. Since the O’Melaghlins go back to -the darkest of days, they must have had the manners of the same,” said -the chieftain, good-humoredly. - -“Well, please go on. I will try not to interrupt you again.” - -“The O’Melaghlins were monarchs of Meath for unnumbered generations -before the Christian era, and for eleven centuries and a half after. -Somewhere about the year 1160 Henry the Second—bad luck to the -beast!—made the conquest of Ireland, ravaged the kingdom of Meath, and -gave the land to a thieving carpet-bagger of his own, Hugh de Lacy by -name. Ah! but The O’Melaghlins, turned out of their own, made short work -of the usurper and murdered him in his stolen castle of Thrim. It was of -no avail. His successors came after him, backed up by the power of the -Saxon. The O’Melaghlins were scattered far and wide.” - -“One of the tragedies of history,” said Stuart. - -“True for you, O’Wolfscliff! The next memorable apoch in the history of -that r’yal family fell in the reign of Edward the First, in the year -1270, more than a century after the conquest of Meath. Then the young -head of the family—The O’Melaghlin of that apoch—married the Lady Mona, -sole child and heiress of Fergus of Arghalee, surnamed the Tiger, and in -due time, in right of his wife, succeeded to the chieftainship and -became The O’Melaghlin of Carrick Arghalee! That, sir and madam, was the -first step taken toward a union with the r’yal house of Scotland, from -which you, sir, descinded.” - -(The chieftain, when interested or excited, sometimes slipped into -dialect.) - -“Indeed!” exclaimed Stuart, rather mystified, for he did not as yet see -the road to the royal alliance. - -“Now then,” continued The O’Melaghlin, “that marriage was the first -step, as I said. Nearly two centuries passed before the second step was -taken. But then, centuries don’t count for much with old historic -families whose origin is only lost in the ancient, prehistoric ages. It -was in the year 1380, in the reign of Robert the Second, King of -Scotland, that Randolph of Arghalee married the Lady Grauch, daughter of -the Earl of Fife, who was the second son of the reigning monarch. D’ye -moind, that’s where the r’yal blood comes in, and our kinship, more -betoken! So shake hands upon it, Wolfscliff.” - -Stuart good-humoredly put out his hand, already half crippled by -O’Melaghlin’s first clasp, and received a second crushing grip. - -“And now will you kindly inform me how I can be of service to you?” -inquired the host. - -“Thank you, sir, certainly. I wish to find my children, Michael and -Judith. I was told by Mr. Walling that you would be able to give me -their exact address, which he said was in London somewhere, but he could -not tell where.” - -While The O’Melaghlin spoke Stuart stared and Palma laughed. She felt a -child’s delight at his astonishment in discovering that The O’Melaghlin -was the father of Michael Man and Judith Hay. - -“Oh!” said the visitor, “you are surprised, sure, to hear me say this, -but they are my children, for all that I have never set eyes on them in -my life. It was not my fault, but the fate made by circumstances, that -kept us apart. It is a painful story, sir, that I may tell you later at -your convenience. Now I wish to ask you where, in all the great -wilderness of London, I may find my children.” - -“Nowhere in London. They are not there. They have changed their plans, -and will remain for some time to come at Haymore Hall.” - -“Surely I thought they were going to London for private tuition.” - -“They can obtain that better, perhaps, at Haymore.” - -“Ay?” - -“Perhaps, O’Melaghlin, you would like to see your daughter’s last letter -to my wife,” kindly suggested Stuart. - -“Ay, that I would, if Mrs. Stuart has no objections, and it is very kind -of you to offer to show it to me, and I thank you, Wolfscliff,” heartily -responded the visitor. - -And before he had finished speaking Palma had darted away in search of -her letter box. She soon returned with it, sat down, placed it on her -lap, opened it and took out a bundle of letters, from which she selected -one to hand it to the visitor. - -He quickly snatched it, and with an almost greedy look, so eager was the -father to read the words of his unknown daughter. - -He “devoured” the contents of that letter, though none of its words -could speak of him, who was equally unknown to his daughter, and -although they only told of household and neighborhood news, and of their -changed plans in regard to the scene of their studies and the person of -their tutor. - -When he had dwelt on the letter as long as possible he returned it to -its owner with manifest reluctance and cast covetous glances at the pile -of letters from which it had been drawn. - -“Would you like to read all your daughter’s letters? You can, of course, -if you wish it, sir,” said Palma kindly. - -“Oh, madam, if you would be so good as to let me do so,” gratefully -replied the father. - -“Here they are, then, about twenty of them in all, and they are long -letters. Take them and read them at your leisure. Now there is the -dinner bell. You will join us, I hope.” - -“Thank you, my dear madam; but I am just off a long journey, and hardly -presentable in a sitting-room, much less at a dinner table,” said The -O’Melaghlin, glancing down at his dusty garments. - -“Oh, never mind. We are plain country people,” said Palma, with a smile; -for having lived in a crowded city all her life, with the exception of -one short season at “Lull’s,” she took pride in thinking of herself as a -country woman. - -“If you would like to go to a room to brush off a little, I should be -pleased to show you the way,” said Stuart. - -“Thank you, Wolfscliff, I think I would if it will not delay your dinner -or spoil your soup. Now speak frankly. There should be candor among -kinsmen.” - -“It will spoil nothing,” put in Palma, knowing that Cleve could not -answer that question, “so, Mr. Stuart, please show The O’Melaghlin to -the oak room.” - -Cleve turned with a bow to his guest and led the way out. - -Palma rang the bell and gave orders that the soup should be kept back -for fifteen minutes. - -In due time The O’Melaghlin reappeared in the drawing-room, and the -small party went in to dinner. - -In the course of that meal Stuart said to Palma: - -“My dear, The O’Melaghlin has kindly promised to remain with us a few -days, and has sent back his chaise to the Wolfshead to fetch his -baggage.” - -“I am very much pleased to hear this,” said Palma, turning with a bright -smile to the visitor. - -“Thank you, madam! You may wonder, perhaps, why I should have chosen to -travel all the way down from New York to West Virginia to get from you -the London address of my children, when I might have written to you and -got it by return mail.” - -“No; indeed, I never once thought of it in that manner.” - -“Well, I may as well tell you how it was. When I learned from Mr. -Walling that my children were in London, I determined to go there as -soon as possible. And knowing what a rush there is across the big pond -at this season of the year, I went to get my passage secured in the -first available steamer. But, bless you! though I went to every office -of ocean steamers in New York, and wrote to every one in Boston, I could -get no sort of a passage in any one for the next six weeks. The first -one I could engage was for the first of July, in the steamer _Leviathan_ -for Southampton.” - -“Why! Are you going by the _Leviathan_? We are going by that ship!” -impulsively exclaimed Palma. - -“You are!” cried The O’Melaghlin, appealing to Stuart. - -“Indeed we are!” responded the latter. - -“Delight upon delight! That is almost too good to be true! Well, I am -overjoyed to hear this! Now to resume my explanation why I came to you -instead of writing: Finding that I had three weeks upon my hands I said -to myself: ‘I will not write to get meager news. I will go down to West -Virginia and see these near connections of my unknown children, and I -will talk with them and get from them every detail of my son’s and -daughter’s lives and characters.’ And so here I am.” - -“And now that you are here, O’Melaghlin, we hope that you will stay with -us until the day comes when we must all leave Wolfscliff for New York to -embark on our voyage,” said Stuart. - -The visitor turned and looked inquiringly on the lady’s face. - -“Oh, yes, do, Mr. O’Melaghlin. We should be so happy to have you!” she -exclaimed, in response to that mute appeal. - -“You do me much honor, sir and madam. And to be frank with you, there is -nothing on my part to prevent my acceptance and enjoyment of your -kindness and hospitality,” replied The O’Melaghlin in modest words, but -with a pompous manner. - -Palma then withdrew and left the two men over their claret, and went to -put her babies to bed. When this sweet duty was done she returned to the -drawing-room, where she was soon joined by Stuart and O’Melaghlin. - -And there, later in the evening, the latter told his story. It was the -common story of a race of men and a fine estate falling into decadence -from generation to generation. This The O’Melaghlin, in telling the -tale, attributed to the misfortunes of the family, and the persecutions -of the Saxon. But to those who could read between the lines, even of his -version, it was self-evident that the downfall of the house was due to -the vice and folly of its representatives. - -Few men in the position of The O’Melaghlin would tell such a story with -perfect frankness. Certainly he did not so tell his. And therefore it -seems necessary, in the interests of truth, that it should be told by -me. - -With the exception of those absurd traditions of the prehistoric period -of which no one can know anything, the proud family record of The -O’Melaghlins, previous to their degradation, was in the main true, as -every student of Irish history knows. But for a century past The -O’Melaghlins of Arghalee had been fast livers, hard drinkers and -reckless sinners. In every generation, every succeeding heir had come -into his patrimony poorer in purse, prouder in spirit, and weaker in -will to resist evil than any of his predecessors. - -At length, about twenty-five years before the period of which I write, -young Michael O’Melaghlin, at the age of twenty-one, came into the -remnant of the grand old estate, consisting then of the half-ruined -castle of Arghalee and a few acres of sterile land immediately around -it. - -He was the last of his family, and would have been alone in the world -but that he loved and was beloved by a good and beautiful girl, well -born, like himself; an orphan, like himself; poor, like himself, and -even poorer, since she had not so much as a ruinous house and an acre of -ground. - -Moira MacDuinheld lived with distant relatives in the neighborhood of -Arghalee. - -They were not kind to her; they grudged her the cost of her maintenance; -and when young Michael O’Melaghlin came courting her, they encouraged -his suit that they might get rid of their burden; and they let him marry -her, although they knew they were delivering her to poverty and -privation, if to nothing worse. - -Michael then married Moira with the full consent of her kindred, and -took her home to his dilapidated, rat-infested, raven-haunted, -storm-beaten old donjon keep, which was all that was left of the castle -of Arghalee. - -But soon the young pair began to suffer the bitterest pangs of poverty. -We cannot go into detail here. Let it be sufficient to say that often -they had not enough to eat, even of the plainest food. But, although -“poverty had come in at the door, love did not fly out of the window,” -for they loved each other more faithfully, because more pitifully, for -all their privations and sufferings. And here comes in the insanity of -pride. Both Michael and Moira were strong, healthy, able-bodied young -people, and could each have obtained work in the neighborhood; Michael -as a farm laborer, if nothing more—and he could have done little more, -for he had but very little education, and Moira might have become a -laundress—a trade easily acquired. But for an O’Melaghlin—a descendant -of the ancient monarchs of Meath—to work! No! In the narrow, one-idea -mind of the impoverished chieftain it was more noble to starve and to -see his young wife starve, or to accept alms, and deem the bestower to -be highly honored in being permitted to minister to the needs of The -O’Melaghlin. - -But hunger is a mighty factor in the affairs of life. It is said to have -civilized the world. At least it exercised a very powerful influence -upon these two healthy young people, who were almost always hungry, -seldom having enough of oatmeal or potatoes on any day to satisfy their -robust appetites. And when they had suffered this hunger for several -months, and saw nothing but hunger in all the future, The O’Melaghlin -suddenly resolved to sell all the remainder of his land, except one acre -upon which his ruined tower stood—the oldest, as it was also the only -part of the great castle now in existence—and with the money he might -get for them go with his young wife to the gold fields of California. -There, in the far-off foreign land, where he would not be known, he -would seek for the gold that should restore the fortunes of his family. -Upon whomsoever the gold fever fastens it fills with a furore. - -Gold was The O’Melaghlin’s thought by day and his dream by night. Gold -seeking, he persuaded himself, was not work—or at least it was not work -for hire; and, besides, he would be a stranger in a strange land; and no -one at home here in Antrim should ever be able to say that The -O’Melaghlin had ever soiled his hands or blotted his ‘scutcheon with -labor! - -He sold four acres of his land for little more than enough money to take -himself and his wife, by way of Glasgow, to San Francisco. He was -offered nearly twice as much money if he would sell the remaining acre -with the ancient tower upon it. - -But at the proposal The O’Melaghlin grew furious and insolent. - -What! Sell the very donjon keep, the last stronghold of The O’Melaghlins -of Arghalee? Many a time had the Saxons besieged the castle, and -sometimes they had taken the outworks, but never the donjon keep. And -now he would see their island scuttled in the midst and sunk between its -four seas, like the rotten old craft that it was, before he would sell -his tower and the last acre of ground on which it stood. - -Though why this jeremiad should have been uttered against “the Saxon,” -when it was an Irishman and a near relative who wanted to buy his old -owl roost, no one but The O’Melaghlin himself could have explained. - -His dream was to realize a fabulous fortune from the gold fields and -come back and restore the tower, rebuild the castle and repurchase all -the land sold by his forefathers for generations past. To do all this -would require a vast fortune; but would he not make that fortune? - -Heaven and earth! Did not many a common bit of human clay without family -or name of the least value make a large fortune in the gold fields? -When, then, The O’Melaghlin stooped to seek the ore, would not the earth -open wide her bosom of uncounted treasures and lavish gold upon him? - -The O’Melaghlin never doubted for an instant that she would. - -So in due time The O’Melaghlin and his wife sailed from Glasgow, bound -for San Francisco. - -They went in the first cabin of the _Golden Glory_. Do you think The -O’Melaghlin would take second place in any circumstances? No, he would -die first! - -When they reached San Francisco he took a room for himself and wife at -one of the very best hotels, which was also, of course, one of the most -expensive in the city. - -He gave his name to the office clerk as: - -“The O’Melaghlin,” which that hurried and distracted individual -incontinently put down as: - -T. O. Mannikin. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - PARENTAGE OF MIKE AND JUDY - - -The young pair had been in the city only a few days when, after diligent -inquiries in all possible directions, O’Melaghlin heard a rumor of a -rich new field of gold in the Black Rock Ridges, some fifty miles from -the city, and of a party of adventurers about forming to start for that -point. - -O’Melaghlin determined to join that expedition. - -His young wife, Moira, was much too delicate just at this time to -accompany him. - -He left her at the hotel with nearly all the little money he had to bear -her expenses during his absence, which he promised should be as short as -possible. - -He said he would come back to see her about the time she might be able -to return with him. - -Then he went away, and Moira remained at the hotel. - -It seemed a cruel act so to leave a young wife, who was expecting within -four or five weeks to become a mother; but The O’Melaghlin had the gold -fever in its most malignant form, and had even infected her with the -fell disease. - -She also had feverish and delirious hallucinations concerning the -imaginary golden days that were dawning upon them, of which, indeed, her -present elegant and luxurious surroundings in this palace hotel seemed a -prophecy and a foretaste. Never in her life had Moira seen, dreamed or -imagined such magnificence as this public house presented to her. And to -make such a superb style of living their own for life was worth some -present sacrifice of each other’s society for a little while. So she -willingly let her husband depart with the gold-seekers, and whenever she -felt very lonesome without him she just shut her eyes and called up the -inward vision of the gorgeous future. - -Yet there were moods in which she grew too deeply impressed to look -beyond the immediate, impending trial, bringing certain pain and danger -and possible death before giving her, if it should ever give her, the -crown of a woman’s life—maternity. - -She had made some few pleasant acquaintances among the ladies who were -boarding at the hotel, and who were charmed by the artless and confiding -manners of this beautiful wild Irish girl—or child-woman. And when they -discovered her fears they laughed her into courage again, telling her -that such dark forebodings as hers were quite an indispensable part of -the program, and every mother among them all had been through it. And -they spoke the truth, as every doctor knows. - -But this hotel was a house patronized by travelers and transient -boarders only. - -The ladies who had made Moira’s acquaintance and become her friends one -after another went their way, and she was left alone. - -True, others came. Every day they came and went. Some stayed a few -hours; some stayed a few days. Among these were women who would have -been very kind to the lonely young stranger if they had had the chance. -But they had not. They never saw her, or saw to notice her. - -With her increasing infirmities, the young wife, when daily expecting to -become a mother, grew very shy and timid. She seldom went down into the -ladies’ parlor—that neutral ground upon which acquaintances are -sometimes made, and even friendships occasionally formed; and when she -did go for a little change, she would conceal herself between the -curtain and sash of some front window, and so, hidden from the company, -look out upon the brilliant life of Sacramento Street until the utter -weariness that now so frequently overcame her strength compelled her to -creep away to the repose of her own private apartment. - -Toward the last of her life she gave up entirely going to the ladies’ -parlor, and confined her walk to the stairs and halls between her -bedchamber and the public dining-room. - -This walk was her only exercise, her only change of scene, and she -continued it daily to the last day of her life. - -She made no new acquaintances in place of those who had gone away. She -had no friend except an humble one in the chambermaid who attended to -her room. In many respects she was worse off in this elegant and -luxurious house than she would have been in the rudest log cabin of a -mining camp, for here, though she had everything else, she lacked what -she would have got there—human companionship and sympathy. - -Often she longed—wildly longed—to see or hear from her husband, but knew -that it was impossible for her to do so. - -Yet she had one great stay and comfort—her Christian faith. She was -devoutly religious and spent much time in her room in reading the Bible, -or some book of devotion, or in prayer, or in singing in a low tone some -favorite hymn. - -So the time passed until about six weeks after The O’Melaghlin had gone -away to seek his fortune, when there came a change. She fell too ill to -go down to dinner that evening. - -The friendly chambermaid, who volunteered to bring her a cup of tea, -also offered to spend the night with her. - -Moira gratefully accepted these services. - -Before midnight the girl had to call the night watchman and get him to -send a messenger out for the nearest physician, who came promptly in -answer to the call. - -Moira saw the sun rise once more for the last time. Then she died, -leaving behind her a pair of healthy twins—a boy and a girl. - -Her death was so sudden, so unexpected, that it seemed as if a bright, -strong torch had been instantly inverted and extinguished. - -Then there was a commotion and a sensation in the hotel. - -Where was the husband of the dead woman, the father of the motherless -babes? - -The office book was searched to see who was the party who had taken Room -777 seven weeks previous, and the register showed the name of T. O. -Mannikin and wife, Ogly, Ireland. This was the manner in which the -hurried clerk of the hotel had heard and entered the name and address of -The O’Melaghlin. - -The attendant physician gave his certificate as to the natural cause of -death, so that there was no need of a coroner’s inquest. - -But there had to be a thorough search made through the effects of the -dead woman for clews to friends or relatives, who should be notified of -her decease. - -Nothing was found; not a letter, not even a line of writing except those -of the receipts, for she had paid punctually every week up to the -Saturday before her fatal illness. The poor young pair had no -correspondents anywhere. - -Nor was there any money found. Her very last dollar had been paid away -for her last week’s board, and there was nothing left to satisfy the -claims of the doctor or the nurse, to pay the funeral expenses or to -provide for the orphan twins. - -There was no end of gossip in the house. Dress, fashion, operas, even -mining stocks were temporarily forgotten in the discussion of this sad -and strange event. It was then decided among the worldly wise that the -name Mannikin was only an assumed one, that the husband had deserted the -wife, or more probably, the destroyer had abandoned his prey. - -Human nature, sinful as it is called, is nowhere quite heartless. - -A purse was made up among the people of the house to defray the expenses -of the young stranger’s funeral. And on the fifth day after her death -her remains were laid in the Lone Mountain Cemetery. - -The motherless babes were taken in charge by the monthly nurse, a Mrs. -Mally, who, in a fit of benevolence that did not last long, adopted them -and carried them to her own home. - -The personal effects of the poor dead young mother, which were not of -much value indeed, but which might have been detained by the proprietors -of the hotel for the last few days of unpaid board, were given by them -into the keeping of Nurse Mally, either for the benefit of the babes or -of any claimant who might prove to have the best right to them. - -As for the ministering physician, like most of the men of his humane -profession, he waived all claim to remuneration for his services. - -Mrs. Mally soon found the pursuit of her own regular calling and the -care of the orphaned infants too much for her “nerves.” - -Sin is the outcome of so many causes—hereditary, taint, faulty training, -temptation and opportunity. - -Mrs. Mally was affected by all these. She slowly made up her mind to -keep the dead mother’s wardrobe, trinkets and books and to dispose of -the babies. She would not hurt them; not for the world! But she would -put them in a haven where, in truth, they would be much better taken -care of than by any poor, hard-working woman like herself. - -So one evening she dressed them in their very best clothes and gave them -each a dose of paregoric, not enough to endanger their little lives—she -knew her business too well for that—but to put them into a deep sleep. - -When it was dark she got a large market basket with a strong handle, -folded a clean cradle blanket and laid it in the bottom of it, took -another little blanket and laid it in loose so that its edges came up -over those of the receptacle. - -Then she wrapped the sleeping babies up carefully, put them in the -bottom, laid comfortably at each end with their feet passing each other -in the middle, covered them over with the double folds of the upper -blanket, and so done up like a pastry cook’s turn-over pie, she took -them in the basket on her arm and carried them out into the dimly -lighted back streets and off into the country to the infant asylum of -the Holy Maternity. She had not far to go. When she reached the gate, -which stood always open for the reception of such piteous little human -waifs as infant outcasts, she went in and up to the gable end of the -building, where stood the cage to receive the poor, naked, fatherless, -motherless human birdlings. It was a large oriel window, about breast -high from the ground. - -She rang the bell at the side of the window. It swung open and around, -bearing attached on its inner side a soft, warm nest, or small cradle. - -Mrs. Mally took the sleeping infants from the basket, one by one, and -placed them in the nest, tucked them snugly in, put the two cradle -blankets, folded, over them, and then rang the bell again. The -window-sash with the nest swung round and inward, and so the abandoned -babes were received within the sheltering arm of the “Holy Maternity,” -and no questions asked. We know the rest of their lives so far as they -have yet lived. - -Mrs. Mally went home with her empty basket, and that night missed the -babes so much that she wept with contrition and loneliness. - -The next day she hunted up every article of infant wear belonging to the -twins, washed and ironed all that was soiled, then packed them into the -basket, and when night came she went once more to the asylum and rang at -the receiving window. Again the nest swung outward, and she put into it, -no baby, but a quantity of babies’ clothing, then rang the bell again -and the offering was swung inward. - -Then Mrs. Mally went home with the empty basket, relieved. - -During all this time The O’Melaghlin lay ill of a long, lingering fever -in the mining camp under the shadow of the great Black Rock Ridges. - -He had not been utterly unsuccessful during the first days of trial -before he succumbed to the fierce onset of his disease. He was as kindly -cared for by his companions as circumstances would permit. He had no -orthodox medical attendance. A Mexican Indian, an herb doctress, came -and nursed him. Her simple ministrations, with the aid of pure air, pure -water, nature and a good constitution, saved his life. - -But his great mental trouble of anxiety to see or hear from his young -wife, left alone in the city hotel, tended to retard his recovery, which -was very tedious. - -His mates had prospered in their search for gold. The mine promised to -hold out, and not run out as so many did. So, finding that the sick -man’s anxiety to see his young wife far outweighed his craving for the -gold mine, they made up a liberal purse among themselves to send him on -his way rejoicing. - -As soon as he was able to walk he set out on foot from the mining camp. -He was accompanied half a day’s journey by a couple of his companions, -who brought him as far as a friendly Indian’s hut and there bade him -good-by, leaving him to rest for the afternoon and spend the night, -while they retraced their steps to the mining camp. - -Early the next morning The O’Melaghlin resumed his journey and dragged -himself by slow stages of ten or fifteen miles a day, stopping at night -in miner’s, hunter’s or Indian’s hut, according as either offered -shelter near the close of evening. - -And so at length he reached the city late one autumn night, and went -straight to the hotel where he had left his young wife. - -There he learned that she had been dead and buried for more than a month -past, and that the twins to which she had given birth were in the care -of the professional nurse, Mrs. Mandy Mally, of Cyprus Lane. - -But he scarcely heard this last item of intelligence. - -The shock of the first fatal news, coming as it did after the wasting of -his long illness and the weariness of his long tramp, quite overwhelmed -The O’Melaghlin. - -He fell senseless to the floor. - -He was taken up and sent to the casual ward of a public hospital, where -he suffered a severe relapse that confined him to his bed for many -weeks. - -Upon his second recovery, as soon as he was discharged from the hospital -he went in search of the monthly nurse who had taken charge of poor -Moira’s babes. - -He found the woman in a very small house in a very narrow back street. - -She looked scared when she was confronted with the father of the -children whom she had sent away. - -But she soon recovered her self-control. She told him how she had -disposed of the children, and excused herself by calling his attention -to the poverty of herself, her house and her surroundings, and to the -necessity of her going out to work. - -The O’Melaghlin accepted all her apologies. He did not blame her in the -least. He thought it best for the children to be under the care of the -Sisterhood of the Holy Maternity; and he told her so. - -He left the nurse, and went out to find some cheap lodgings where he -could hide himself and his misery for a few days until he should be able -to come to some understanding with himself and strike out some plan for -the future. - -He wished to go and see his children at the asylum, and yet he dreaded -the trial; he could not get up resolution to do so. They had been the -cause—though the innocent one—of their mother’s death, and so he shrank -from looking upon their infant faces. - -Besides, the pride of The O’Melaghlin winced at the thought of going and -facing the Sisters of that house and owning himself the father of those -destitute infants, without either taking them away at once or making -some provision for their support in the institution; and he could -neither take charge of them himself nor provide for them anywhere. He -was at this time too bitterly poor. - -No, he said to himself, he could do no better for the children than to -leave them there in that safe, happy and Christian home. He would keep -track of them, he told himself, and if ever he should be able he would -take them away. - -And without ever having looked upon the faces of his children he left -California for Australia, shipping himself as a man before the mast on a -large merchantman bound from San Francisco to Sydney. - -I must hasten over the remainder of The O’Melaghlin’s story. - -From the day of his embarkation for Australia he became a wanderer over -the face of the earth, chiefly among the mines. His gold fever, -suspended for a time by his grief for the loss of his wife, revived with -tenfold force, so that “the last state of that man was worse than the -first.” - -He visited Australia, Tasmania, the Sandwich Islands, New Zealand, Cape -Colony and other places, but finally returned to Australia, where at -last he found fortune. - -By the mere accident of idly poking his staff in the ground one day -while sitting down to rest, on his way through the bush, he struck -ore—rich gold—that turned out one of the greatest mines in that region. - -It would be tedious to tell all the processes by which he realized a -colossal fortune, or by what slow degrees he returned to the worthy -ambition of his youth to restore the fortunes of his family by -repurchasing, at any advance of price, their lost land, and rebuilding, -at any cost, their ruined castle. - -When he had renewed his resolution to do all this, he first thought of -getting married to perpetuate the house of O’Melaghlin—although at this -period of his life he was not at all a marrying man, preferring “the -free, unhoused condition” of a bachelor. Then suddenly he recalled to -mind his deserted and almost forgotten children. If these were living he -had a son and a daughter to carry down his name to the future; for -should his son be dead and his girl living, whoever should marry the -heiress of The O’Melaghlin must take the name of O’Melaghlin. - -So, should either of his long neglected children be living, he need not -be driven to get married at all—which would be a great relief. - -He settled up all his affairs in Australia and sailed for California. - -When he reached San Francisco he went immediately to the asylum where -his children had been received. - -I need not follow the father in every step of the weary search he had in -tracing them from the asylum to their places of apprenticeship; from -these places—with the aid of skilful detectives—to the mining camp of -Grizzly Gulch, from that to the fort and thence to New York. - -In New York, from the Wallings, he heard the most satisfactory news of -both, but especially of the daughter, who, he was told, had married a -wealthy young Englishman of ancient family and of large landed estate, -and who had gone to England with her husband, taking her brother along -with them. - -Mr. Walling could not give the inquiring father the address of the young -people, whom he believed to be somewhere in London, living quietly, and -pursuing their studies to make up for their long neglected education. - -But he referred The O’Melaghlin to Mr. Cleve Stuart, of Wolfscliff, West -Virginia, who would be able to satisfy him on every point. - -The O’Melaghlin, having nearly four weeks of time on hand before the -sailing of the steamer, which was the first on which he could secure a -passage to Liverpool, resolved, instead of writing for information from -Mr. Stuart, to go down to Wolfscliff and have a personal interview with -the parties who had been intimate with his son and daughter, and who -would be able to give him every particular of their character, personal -appearance and history. - -And so, as has been seen, he came to Wolfscliff. - -The O’Melaghlin was deeply pleased with every circumstance of his -reception there; with the cordial welcome of the young master and -mistress of the house, with the discovery which he honestly thought he -had made of a worthy kinsman in the person of Cleve Stuart, a -descendant, as O’Melaghlin himself claimed to be, on his mother’s side, -of the royal house of Scotland. - -But more than all was he pleased with the account he heard from his host -and hostess of his long neglected son and daughter. - -“You will be hearing from these young people every week, will ye not, -Wolfscliff?” he inquired that evening, after having finished his story. - -“My wife hears from her cousin Judith by almost every English mail,” -answered Cleve. - -“And you’ll be getting a letter in a day or so?” - -“Yes, most likely.” - -“And, of course, answering it?” - -“Of course! That is, my wife will! As I hinted before, the -correspondence of the two families is kept up by Palma and Judith.” - -“Ah! So then you are the scribe, Mistress Stuart?” - -“Oh, yes,” answered Palma, smiling. - -“And you are thinking, ma’am, what a grand piece of news you will have -to tell your friend in your very next letter.” - -“Indeed, I am thinking of just such a delight!” exclaimed Palma, her -eyes fairly dancing with anticipation. - -“Then I am almost sorry to debar you from such a pleasure, ma’am, but I -must beseech you not to make known my existence to my son and daughter -until we meet them in England face to face,” said O’Melaghlin solemnly. - -“Oh!” exclaimed Palma, with a look of great disappointment. - -“I have good reasons for my request, and I will tell them to you. Your -husband, my friend Wolfscliff there, will understand them. I wish to be -introduced to the young ones simply as The O’Melaghlin. They have -probably never heard that name before in all their lives. They can never -suspect its connection with themselves——” - -“Do I understand you really, O’Melaghlin? Do you wish to be presented as -a stranger to your own son and daughter?” inquired Stuart in perplexity. - -“That is just exactly what I do wish,” replied the Irishman. - -“But why?” inquired Stuart, while Palma looked the same question with -great, dilated eyes. - -“In the first place, I wish to make a quiet observation of them while -yet they consider me a mere ordinary, uninteresting stranger, with whom -they can be at perfect ease, and show themselves as they really are with -perfect freedom.” - -“But don’t you suppose they could do that with their own father, knowing -him to be their father who had come to seek them out, to find them, to -make up to them—and to himself as well—for their long separation from -him—don’t you suppose they could feel at ease and act with freedom in -the presence of such a father?” demanded Stuart. - -“No, I don’t!” emphatically retorted The O’Melaghlin. “Under the -circumstances, I don’t believe they could either feel easy or behave -naturally. They would be so surprised, so amazed——” - -“But if they were carefully prepared for the meeting beforehand,” -suggested Stuart. - -“I doubt if you could prepare them for so strange a meeting. But -granting that you could, still they would be so filled with wonder and -curiosity, so anxious to do their duty, so eager to make a good -impression, that, as I said before, it would be impossible for them to -feel comfortably or behave naturally. No, you must present me to your -friends, Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay, simply as your kinsman, The -O’Melaghlin of Arghalee. You may write and ask permission to bring your -kinsman to Haymore Hall,” concluded the chieftain. - -“It would not be necessary to ask permission. Indeed, it would hurt my -friend Ran for me to do so. He would have us all treat his house as our -own and bring whom we pleased, without ceremony, taking much more than -his permission for granted, even taking his delight to welcome any of -our friends, for granted,” replied Stuart. - -“Ah, then, sure he is a whole-souled, great-hearted fellow, this husband -of my Judy! This son-in-law of my own! And I shall be proud to make his -acquaintance. Troth, he should have been an Irishman!” warmly exclaimed -The O’Melaghlin. “And now,” he added, turning suddenly around to Palma, -“do you understand, ma’am, why I wish to meet my son and daughter as a -stranger, and to observe them for a whole day or an evening before -making myself known to them?” - -“Perfectly, Mr. O’Melaghlin. And I think you are quite right,” warmly -responded Palma. - -“I thank you, ma’am, for your indorsement of my judgment. And now, my -dear young lady, will you oblige me in one small matter?” he gravely -inquired. - -“In anything, great or small, that lies within my power, Mr. -O’Melaghlin,” smiled Palma. - -“Then, my dear young lady, will you graciously drop the ‘mister’ before -my name?” - -Palma looked up in questioning surprise. - -“I will explain, my dear madam. The O’Melaghlins have been The -O’Melaghlins from time immemorial, as I had the honor to tell you -before. They were monarchs of Meath for many centuries; but they were -never ‘mister,’ like any ordinary Smith, Jones, or Brown, or Anybody. -So, my fair kinswoman, you will please to oblige me by dropping that -little prefix to my old historic name.” - -“But, Mr.—I beg pardon. But, sir, if I must not call you ‘mister,’ how -shall I address you or speak of you?” inquired the bewildered young -woman. - -“Simply as O’Melaghlin, or The O’Melaghlin. My dear, how would you speak -of or address Julius Cæsar, Marc Antony, or Alexander the Great? Would -you say ‘Mr.’ Julius Cæsar? ‘Mr.’ Marc Antony? No, you would not. And no -more should you say Mr. O’Melaghlin. There are family names, my dear -lady, that outrank not only the little prefix of ‘mister,’ but all -titles, and such a name is that of The O’Melaghlin,” solemnly concluded -the chieftain. - -“Very well, O’Melaghlin,” laughed Palma, “I will hereafter always -remember to call you O’Melaghlin, though, indeed, it will make me feel -like a very fast young woman, and just as if I had a jockey cap on my -head and a cigar in my mouth.” - -“I wish to be enlightened,” said Stuart, with a smile. “You call me -‘Wolfscliff.’ Why, upon the same principle, do you not call yourself -Arghalee?” - -The chieftain drew himself up with a royal air and replied majestically: - -“Because, sir, The O’Melaghlin ranks the territorial title of Arghalee, -as it ranks every other title!” - -“Does not the royal name of Stuart rank Wolfscliff?” - -“It would; but there are thousands of Stuarts, and you are only one of -them, and derive your individual distinction from your manor. You are -Stuart, of Wolfscliff. There is but one O’Melaghlin. I am The -O’Melaghlin.” - -“And your son?” - -“He is Michael O’Melaghlin. When he succeeds me he will be The -O’Melaghlin.” - -“I see!” said Stuart, with a smile. - -But I doubt if he did see. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - AN ANGEL’S WORK - - -The nest day Palma had a final and decisive talk with Mrs. Pole. - -In such high esteem was this good woman held by the young Stuarts that -they regarded her almost as a mother. - -When the question of going to England that summer was first mooted, the -alternative was placed before Mrs. Pole, and the choice given, her to -accompany the young pair on their voyage and foreign tour or to remain -at Wolfscliff in charge of the house. - -And the woman, on her part, had entreated Mr. and Mrs. Stuart to tell -her which they would prefer to have her do. - -To which they replied that they wished her to do just as she pleased. - -This morning Palma came into the nursery, where Mrs. Pole sat beside the -cradle, watching the sleeping babies, while she sewed on some plain -needlework. - -How for the last fortnight Mrs. Pole had been halting between two -opinions, divided between the affections for Cleve and Palma and their -children, that drew to go with them, and her dread of the long voyage -and love of quiet that bound her to her home. Therefore, she wished them -to make the decision for her that she was incapable of making for -herself. And they would not. - -But within a day or two it had been “borne in” upon the mind of Poley -that, although Mr. and Mrs. Stuart really wished her to do as she -pleased in this matter of going or staying, yet that they would be -better satisfied that she should please to stay at Wolfscliff to take -care of the house than to go to Europe with them. Mrs. Pole and her -young friends were really secretly of one mind in this matter. - -So when Palma sat down beside her she was prepared to meet the question. - -Palma said: - -“Poley, dear, it is really time now that you should make up your mind as -to what you are going to do about going to Europe with us or staying -here. Because, if you should decide to go with us, Poley, dear, we must -begin at once to look out for some good and reliable woman to come and -take care of the house while we are away.” - -“Oh, my dear child, you needn’t trouble yourself to look out for nobody. -If it is all the same to you, I will my own self stay here and look -after the place while you are gone. Will that suit you, ma’am?” - -“Perfectly, Poley, dear. We would rather leave you in charge of our home -than any one else, if you are satisfied to stay.” - -“Yes, I am, dearie. I’m over elderly to be sailing on the high seas, and -nothing but my love for you all would ever a-made me think of such a -thing. And now, as I find I can serve you better by staying here than -going ’long o’ you, why, ’deed, I’d heap liefer stay here.” - -“Then it is all right, Poley. And now tell me, when did you hear from -your niece?” - -“Jane Morgan, you mean, ma’am?” - -“Of course, Jane Morgan. I did not know you had any other niece.” - -“No more I hadn’t, ma’am. Well, I heard from her ’bout two weeks ago. He -have been out of work near all the latter part o’ the winter, and -they’ve been a-having of a very hard time, ma’am, and that is a fact, -with all the mouves they’ve got to feed, too.” - -“How many children have they, Poley?” - -“Six, ma’am. The oldest nine years old, and the youngest nine months. -And he out of work so long, poor fellow!” - -“You should have told me, Poley.” - -“What for, ma’am? You couldn’t have helped it. I sent ’em a good part of -my wages, and that kept ’em a-going.” - -“Poley, do you remember that I told you your niece should come here and -bring all her babies this summer to see you and to get the benefit of -this pure mountain air?” - -“Oh, yes, ma’am, indeed I do remember!” exclaimed Mrs. Pole, brightening -up. - -“And have you written to your niece about it?” - -“Oh, no, ma’am. As you never mentioned the subject again after that -first time, I didn’t know but what you had forgotten it or changed your -mind.” - -“Oh, Poley! How could you? Well, now, look here. Write to your niece and -tell her to come and bring all her children down here to spend the -summer with you while we are gone to Europe. And I hope they will come, -Poley. It would do the little children so much good. And, oh! is Mr. -Morgan out of work now, Poley?” - -“He was two weeks ago, ma’am, with no prospect of getting any.” - -“What is his trade?” - -“He is a carpenter and builder, ma’am?” - -“Oh, then I do think we shall be able to do a good thing for him. Such a -good thing for him!” exclaimed Palma. - -Mrs. Pole looked up in mute surprise and inquiry. - -“Why, this is it. You know there is ever so much carpenter’s work -wanting to be done on the place. I have heard Cleve talking about it. -The barn is to be almost rebuilt, and the house here wants repairs. -Cleve thought of getting a carpenter down from Staunton. But now, you -see, I shall just ask him to send for Mr. Morgan. And then they can all -come down here—husband, wife and children! Won’t that be glorious, -Poley? And he will not lose his time, and they will not be under -expenses!” cried Palma in delight. - -“That will be very fine indeed, ma’am, if so be it can be managed,” -replied Mrs. Pole. - -And then she began to compute how much it would cost to bring Joseph and -Jane Morgan and their family from New York to West Virginia, and to -count up her own savings from her wages. - -“I can do it,” she said to herself. “I can do it! And they can pay me -afterward as they get on, and if they don’t they needn’t bother about -it.” - -Palma went straight to Cleve and unfolded her views. - -“You see, dear,” she said, after she had duly introduced the subject, “I -did give Poley leave to ask her niece and the children to come down here -and stay with her while we should be away in Europe; for, oh! only think -how much good it will do those poor little children! And now since the -husband and father is a carpenter and a skilled workman, as Poley says -he is, what could happen better for all parties? You can engage him to -do the work here that is so much wanted. And it will be such a good -thing for him and his family as well as for us.” - -“My dear quixotic Palma, your benevolence carries you into wild -extravagance, I fear,” said Stuart, with a smile. - -“I was only thinking of the poor man—a skilled mechanic, too, out of -employment—and of his poor, overtasked wife and their poor little -children. I know it is an unusual thing to do to bring down a whole -family when one only wants a carpenter. But then, you see, the -circumstances are also unusual, and——” - -“And the little woman who plans the arrangements is not only unusual, -but—phenomenal!” Stuart said, interrupting her, with a smile. - -“Oh, Cleve, listen to me, dear, and be serious, for I am. I said the -circumstances were unusual, and so they are. We are going to Europe, and -this old house among the hills would be nearly empty while we are gone, -and Mrs. Pole would be alone except for the negro servants on the place -unless we should let her have some one to stay with her. Now these -people are her nearest relations. I promised her that they should come -and visit her. They are in bitter want of all that the change would -bring them—and, oh, dear me, Cleve!” she suddenly broke off, “we are not -living in this world all for ourselves! And don’t you think it would be -a sin, and we should be worse than the dog in the manger to leave this -big old house among the hills almost empty when we go away instead of -opening it to that poor, half-starved and half-stifled tenement family -whose children would here have fresh air, pure water and good food, and -who would get health and strength and delight in this beautiful place?” - -“Why, Palma, dear, you talk to me as if I had to be argued into -consenting to this arrangement. It is enough, love, that you wish to -have it made,” said Stuart. - -“That is very kind of you, Cleve; but I wished to convince, not to coax -you.” - -“A distinction without a difference in this case, dear. Well, I will see -to this.” - -The only hesitation Stuart felt was as to the character of the man -Morgan, of whom neither Palma nor himself knew anything. But Mrs. Pole -did know, and Stuart resolved to have a talk with the woman, in whose -honesty and judgment he had equal and entire confidence. - -Later in the day he questioned Mrs. Pole, and when she assured Mr. -Stuart that “he”—she always referred to her nephew-in-law by the pronoun -instead of his name—“he” was honest, temperate and industrious as a man -could be, and his only fault was carelessness about saving money when he -had it, though he never wasted it on himself, but on the young ones, -even to the extravagance of an excursion sometimes. But for that, “he” -was as good and trusty a man as ever wore shoe leather. - -Upon this information Stuart acted, and wrote a letter to Mr. Morgan -offering him work for the summer, with good wages and his expenses paid -to West Virginia if he should accept the terms. This business letter -inclosed two others, one from Palma to Mrs. Morgan, explaining -circumstances and asking her as a favor to come with Mr. Morgan and -bring all their children and stay at Wolfscliff with Mrs. Pole for the -whole summer and part of the autumn, while Mr. Stuart and she (the -writer) should be in Europe. The last letter was from Mrs. Pole to her -niece, imploring her not to be “backward” in accepting the lady’s -invitation, which was made in good faith and in the earnest desire to do -them service. - -These letters, inclosed in one envelope, were sent off by that day’s -mail. - -Within seven days the answer came. One from Morgan to Mr. Stuart, -gratefully accepting the liberal terms offered him; one from Jane Morgan -to Mrs. Stuart, overflowing with delight and thankfulness, and telling -the lady, what Palma appreciated best of all, that her children were -“fairly standing on their heads in delight at the thought of their going -into the country,” and one from the niece to her aunt, breathing of -gratitude to the Giver of all good gifts for this blessing. - -Stuart sent on his check to Morgan. - -Mrs. Pole began active preparations for the reception of her niece and -the children. - -The large bedroom on the ground floor which had once been the private -apartment of old Mr. Cleve, and two smaller rooms in the rear of that -were fitted up for the family. - -“Because,” said Palma, “these rooms all open upon the back porch and the -end porch, and will be so convenient for the little children to run in -and out without danger of falling from any height or hurting -themselves.” - -Mrs. Pole was ready to cry with the feeling of the young woman’s tender, -thoughtful kindness. - -Palma was busy also with her own preparations. It was no very easy -matter to pack trunks for her husband, her children and herself for a -voyage to Europe. It would have been a much harder task but that Cleve -continually reminded her that she really needed to take no more than -they might require on their voyage. - -“To carry clothes to Europe is to ‘carry coals to Newcastle,’” he said, -quoting an old proverb. - -Hatty, to her great delight, was selected from all the other servants to -go with them as lady’s maid and children’s nurse. - -The last week of their stay at Wolfscliff came. And the program for that -week was all laid out. - -On Sunday they all went to church together. - -On Monday Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart gave a dinner party at Wolfscliff in -honor of their guest, The O’Melaghlin, and for which the invitations had -been given out several days previous. This was a great success. All the -family connections of the Stuarts and the Cleves were on hand, and The -O’Melaghlin was in great force, notwithstanding, or perhaps just -because, he had taken a great deal more wine than was good for him. But -in this respect he was kept well in countenance by the elders of that -dinner table; for up to this time the total abstinence movement had not -reached that neighborhood, where the heads of old families kept up the -convivial habits of their forefathers. - -On Tuesday, by appointment, Mr. Stuart sent the large carryall and also -the ox cart to Wolfswalk to meet the Morgans, who were expected to -arrive that afternoon. - -After their dispatch the whole household of Wolfscliff was in a state of -expectancy much more delightful at the anticipation of meeting the poor -workman’s family of small children who would be in such ecstasies at -their visit than they would have been in looking forward to the arrival -of the most distinguished party this country could afford. - -But it was quite late at night when the two lumbering vehicles drew up -before the door. - -The O’Melaghlin had retired to rest. - -Stuart had remained in the drawing-room under silent protest, until -Palma entreated, exhorted and commanded, using all the forms of the -potential mood in order to make him go to bed. Then he laughed and -yielded, and Palma and Mrs. Pole “stayed up” to receive the travelers. - -They had a nice supper, also, ready for them. - -So when they heard the wheels grate on the pebbles before the house both -rushed out of the room just in time to see old ’Sias, who alone of all -the servants shared their watch, unbolt and unbar the great double front -door. - -Then the door was opened and the large party filed in. - -Palma withdrew to the background to let Mrs. Pole offer the first -greetings to her relatives. First came Joe, with one child fast asleep -on his shoulder, and another, half asleep, holding his hand by his side. - -Then came Jane, with the baby in her arms and two little girls clinging -to her skirts, and the eldest boy close behind her. - -Mrs. Pole received them one by one, kissing them in tears of joy, and -with disconnected, inarticulate words of welcome. - -In the midst of this little hubbub the carryall and ox cart were heard -to start again and roll away in the direction of the barnyard. - -Mrs. Pole presented them all, one by one, to Palma, who received each -with great kindness, and took the baby to hold in her arms, while its -mother, father and all the other children followed Mrs. Pole into the -bedrooms to take off their wraps and wash for supper. - -Then came the comfortable supper and the chat that accompanied it. - -Palma felt fully compensated for her “quixotism.” - -When they all bade her good-night and went to their rooms on the ground -floor Palma felt too joyful to retire; so she stayed up talking to Mrs. -Pole until midnight, and then—even then—when she retired to bed, she was -too happy to sleep—too happy in the thought of the happiness she -witnessed. - -The next morning must have reconciled a more hard-headed man that Cleve -Stuart to the quixotism of his wife. - -The lawn resounded with the shouts and laughter of the little children, -who might have thought, if young children ever think, that they had died -in their tenement house and waked up in heaven. - -Stuart was as much pleased with the frank, honest face and manner of -Joseph Morgan as Palma was with the true, tender, motherly countenance -and conversation of Jane Morgan. - -On Thursday morning the Stuarts, with The O’Melaghlin and their -servants, started for New York, en route for England. - -They reached the city on Friday morning. - -They spent the day in making calls on the Wallings and other friends. - -On Saturday the whole party sailed for Liverpool. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - GENTLEMAN GEFF’S FATE - - -Gentleman Geff was in a profound stupor when he was taken to the rectory -and put to bed in the best chamber of the house—the parlor bedroom on -the ground floor. - -He continued in this state for several days, faithfully watched by -Elspeth and Longman, and frequently visited by Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, -and daily attended by Dr. Hobbs. - -Jennie shrank from even going to look at him. - -But he recognized no one, noticed nothing. - -Medicine and highly concentrated nourishment were regularly administered -to him by his nurses. - -These he sometimes swallowed instinctively, mechanically, and at other -times choked over, and had to be raised in bed and have his throat -relieved and his mouth wiped like a helpless baby; but all unconsciously -on his part. He never knew, or seemed to know, what he himself was -suffering, or other people were doing. - -His spirit was away, away. - -Where? - -In Hades, most probably, judging from his antecedents. - -“Will he die in this stupor, or come out of it, do you think, sir?” -inquired the rector of the doctor one morning as the two men stood by -the bedside of the patient. - -Dr. Hobbs never “shook his head;” doctors never do such stupidly -disheartening things over a case, however serious—story writers to the -contrary notwithstanding. - -This physician also had the courage to confess that he was not -omniscient, for he answered: - -“I do not know.” - -“But if he should come out of this stupor, will he be likely to live?” -inquired the rector. - -“I do not know,” again replied the doctor. “I shall be better able to -judge when he recovers consciousness, if he should ever recover it.” - -And the physician wrote his prescriptions and instructions for the -treatment of the ill man and retired. - -Not one word of this talk entered the consciousness of Gentleman Geff. - -Nine days he lay in this condition, and then there passed over him a -change. - -He seemed to himself to be groping feebly out of nothingness into vague -consciousness of horror; but what the horror was, or what he himself -was, he did not even think. The first effort to do so sent him back into -the state from which he had come. - -After a few hours he came again out of utter oblivion into some faint -consciousness of himself. - -But who was he? Where was he? - -All was dark and still around him. Then came faint intelligence, with -imperfect memory, which mingled dreams with distorted facts. He -remembered faintly what he would have called “a row,” but where, or -under what circumstances, he could not find; he thought it was a drunken -brawl over cards in a gambling saloon, and some one had crushed in his -brain and killed him. - -Yes, that was it! He had been killed last night in a drunken brawl over -cards, in a gambling saloon, and now he had come to life—— - -Where? - -In that dark lower world, without sun, moon or stars; without air, water -or vegetation; that world of horror and despair of which he had heard in -childhood, but in which he had never believed, and where he must wait -with thieves and murderers and miscreants like himself until the general -judgment day; and after that—— - -What? - -The eternal life of torture in the lake of fire and brimstone in which -he had never believed, either in its literal or in its metaphorical -meaning. - -And now he was too utterly debilitated in mind and body to know or to -feel anything very clearly or deeply. - -He relapsed into unconsciousness. - -When he came to himself the next time he was able to think with a little -more clearness, and to recollect with more correctness. - -He remembered now that it was at Haymore Hall the “row” had occurred, in -which he still believed he had been knocked down and had succumbed to -his injuries, and had now waked up in the world of darkness, horror and -despair, to wait for his final doom. - -His final doom? - -He moaned in his helplessness, not altogether from fear of future hell, -but from a feeling of present thirst, intolerable even as the rich man -suffered when he cried to Father Abraham to send Lazarus to dip his -finger in water and cool his parched tongue. - -When he had moaned a second time he felt the approach of some huge, dark -form. It stood by him, it bent over him, put out a strong arm under his -shoulders and lifted him, and placed a glassful of a refreshing beverage -to his lips. - -He drank and breathed more freely. - -Ah! how delicious it was! - -The attendant replaced his head on the pillow, smoothed his bedclothes -and withdrew to take away the glass. - -In a moment he came back, bent over the still half-comatose man and -inquired softly: - -“How do you feel, Capt. Montgomery?” - -“I—I—I—feel——” muttered Gentleman Geff, and then swooned into the -slumber of weakness. - -Some one silently opened the door and came in. It was the rector. - -“How is your patient, Longman?” he inquired. - -“Sir, he has just swallowed more liquid than he has since he has been -ill; and he has spoken for the first time,” replied the nurse. - -“Coherently?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“What did he say?” - -“Well, not much. I asked him how he felt, as an experiment, you see, -sir, and to find out whether he could understand anything; and he did -understand, for he began to tell me, and he dropped off to sleep. You -see he is sleeping naturally, sir.” - -“Yes, I see. Well, Longman, it is one o’clock. Go to bed. I will relieve -your watch,” said the rector, sinking into the large easy-chair beside -the patient. - -Longman made some resistance to this proposal, but Mr. Campbell was -firm, and sent off the wearied nurse to take his much needed rest. - -The ill man rested well for some hours, and then moaned in his sleep. - -The watcher gave him a cooling and strengthening beverage, just as -Longman had done, and the patient sank again into sleep, muttering: - -“I can’t be in hell, after all, for in hell no one comes from heaven to -put a cool——” Then his words became inaudible until he dropped into -unconsciousness with the last word—“purgatory”—on his failing tongue. - -All the remainder of the night he slept well, only occasionally -muttering in his sleep: - -“Not in hell, after all—only in purgatory—not such a bad place.” - -In the morning when the doctor came to make his daily visit he found the -ill man sleeping quietly and Mr. Campbell and Longman sitting by his -bed. - -He examined the patient’s pulse and temperature without waking him, and -then took the two watchers’ report. - -“Took nourishment with a relish and spoke consciously—both good signs, -excellent signs! but I can say no more at present.” - -The doctor wrote out the formulas for the day and took leave. - -All that day Gentleman Geff remained in the same condition without a -sign of further improvement. All the following night Longman had a -repetition of the experience of the preceding night. At dawn his mother, -Elspeth, relieved him and sent him to bed. - -After the family breakfast Mr. Campbell came in and sent Elspeth out to -get her own coffee and muffins. The sick-room was still kept very dark -by the doctor’s orders. Darkness, he said, was the best sedative for -nerves and brain in the condition of Capt. Montgomery. - -When the sick man showed by moaning and moving uneasily that he was -awake, the rector took some beef tea that was kept hot over a spirit -lamp, poured it into an invalid’s feeding-glass and administered it to -the patient. - -Gentleman Geff sucked it in with a relish, and then sank back on his -pillow with a sigh of satisfaction. - -When Mr. Campbell had put away the cup and returned to his seat by the -bedside he was startled by hearing the patient inquire: - -“Who the devil are you, I wonder?” - -He answered calmly, however: - -“One whom you should know, Capt. Montgomery. I am James Campbell, rector -of——” - -But he was interrupted by an exclamation from Gentleman Geff. - -“The devil you say! The curate of Medge in purgatory! a parson in -purgatory! When did your reverence die?” - -The rector paused a few moments before he replied, and then he spoke -very quietly: - -“I am not dead, nor likely to die; nor are you in purgatory as you seem -to think.” - -“What! are you living?” - -“Yes, I thank Heaven.” - -“And—I living also?” - -“Yes! And I say thank Heaven for you also.” - -“Where are we, then?” questioned the man in a quavering voice. - -But before the rector could answer his question, and even while the -question was on his lips, Gentleman Geff had fainted into forgetfulness. - -In his struggling soul, striving back to consciousness from his long -stupor, the wretched man had been the victim of three several -hallucinations. - -First, that he was dead and buried, and while in that state he made no -sign. - -Second, that he was in hell, and then his wail for water and the drink -that was given him dispelled the illusion, which was replaced by the -fancy that he was in purgatory. - -Now the meeting with the living James Campbell had cured him of that -delusion also, and left him to one more natural but not the less -painful. - -When next he awoke from temporary oblivion his brain was clearer and his -memory more accurate than either had yet been since his illness; still, -both were somewhat clouded, so that they mixed up time and space, and -dreams and realities in weird phantasmagoria. - -For instance, he remembered every detail of the two murders he thought -he had committed, but not an item of the meeting with his two intended -victims living to accuse him, not of murder, but of attempted murder. - -And without reflecting, or being now able to reflect, that he could not -possibly be hung in England for murders committed in America, he now -thought that he was in the condemned cell of an English prison, waiting -for speedy execution; that the huge giant who loomed through the shadows -of the prison was his death watch, and that James Campbell had come to -him in his clerical capacity to prepare him for death. - -“But I will not allow him to worm any confession out of me. I have been -convicted on the frailest circumstantial evidence, and they dare not -hang me at the last. I will have nothing to do with the parson. I won’t -even know him.” - -This was the most coherent thought that Gentleman Geff had formed since -he sank into stupor in the drawing-room of Haymore Hall. But the -instinct of self-preservation is a wonderful stimulant to the brain. - -So when James Campbell came next to him he turned his face to the wall -and would not notice him. - -When Longman came and gave him food and asked how he felt he answered: - -“I want to see my lawyer. Send him here.” - -Longman, who had been directed to humor all his whims, replied: - -“Very well, sir. He shall be summoned immediately.” - -“And don’t let that parson come near me again. I hate parsons. And if he -thinks he is going to nag me into confessing crimes I never even dreamed -of committing he must be a much bigger fool than ever I took him to be. -Send my lawyer to me, do you hear?” - -“All right, sir.” - -“Well, then, why the devil don’t you do it? You needn’t keep such an -infernal sharp lookout on me. I am not going to commit suicide, I tell -you.” - -Longman laughed and left the room. - -Gentleman Geff turned with his face to the wall and tried to remember -the details of his supposed trial—what the lawyers had said, what “his -honor” said, how he, the prisoner at the bar, had behaved; and then, -failing to remember anything of what had never occurred, his diseased -brain took to imagining a whole drama, in which he formed the central -figure. - -The doctor came in the same morning, felt his pulse and asked him how he -had slept. - -“None the better for you and your quackeries,” was the reply. “And if I -am supposed to be sick enough to have a physician, why the devil am I -not sent to a hospital, and not kept in this wretched hole?” he added, -still believing himself to be in the condemned cell of the Chuxton jail. - -“Why, don’t they treat you well here?” pleasantly inquired Dr. Hobbs. - -But Gentleman Geff disdained to reply and turned his face to the wall. - -The doctor rose to take leave. - -“I think the man is getting along very well; much better than I ever -thought that he would.” - -“I think he is an ungrateful beast!” exclaimed Longman. - -“Oh, you must not judge him harshly. His head is not clear yet. He does -not know friends from foes,” replied the doctor, who knew nothing -whatever of Gentleman Geff’s criminal career, so well had the secret -been kept by those who possessed it. - -Longman did not answer in words; but his grim silence was sufficiently -expressive. - -“And now you may let a little more light in the room and give him a more -varied diet,” was the parting instruction of the physician. - -As soon as the latter had gone and the door closed behind him Longman -returned to the bedside of his charge. - -Gentleman Geff was sleeping, or seemed to be so. - -Longman went and opened the shutters of one window, but drew down the -white linen shade and let fall the white lace curtains. This filled the -chamber with a soft, subdued light. - -Longman was getting to be an experienced nurse, and knew that it would -not be well to startle the patient, who had lived so long in shadows, -with too bright a light. - -When he had arranged the room to his satisfaction he resumed his seat at -the bedside, and fell into the reflection that, notwithstanding all the -unbelief and hardness of heart that degrade this age of the world, there -were still some good Christian people who lived by the golden rule. - -In the midst of these reflections he was startled by seeing Gentleman -Geff turn over to the front of the bed and stare out through the opening -of his festooned white curtains. His eyes took in the soft, dim outlines -of a moonlight-looking room, though it was now really midday, and the -white window shade and the white lace curtains produced the lunar -effect. - -By this soft effulgence he saw that the room was very spacious, and had -four lace-curtained windows, and a lovely lace-draped dressing-table, -soft, white, dimity-covered chairs and sofa, and pretty Turkey rugs upon -a polished yellow oak floor. - -The richly carved marble mantelpiece, with its large mirror, Sèvres -vases and terra cotta statuettes, and the polished steel stove, with its -glowing but flameless fire of hard coal, was hidden from his sight by a -tall Japan screen. - -Everything in the apartment bespoke wealth, culture and luxury. - -Gentleman Geff stared until his eyes stood out from their sockets. Then -he muttered to himself: - -“This is not a prison cell, nor yet any hospital ward; yet this man -sitting here must be the same Giant Despair who was with me in jail. -There can’t be two of that size in the same country.” - -Longman stood up and stooped over him, saying: - -“Can I do anything for you, Capt. Montgomery?” - -“Oh, it is you! I thought there couldn’t be two of you in the same -century, on the same planet.” - -“What can I do for you, sir?” - -“Confound you! you can explain things, I suppose. You can tell we where -the devil I am now!” - -“You are at the rectory of Haymore parish, sir, where you were brought -on the night of that unfortunate”—Longman paused a moment for an -inoffensive word, and then added—“disturbance at Haymore Hall.” - -“Disturbance—at Haymore Hall!” muttered the criminal, growing pale as -ashes and sinking back upon his pillow. - -No revelation yet had struck him so heavily as this. And it brought back -a more exact memory, though not yet a perfect one, of the recent past. - -Longman hurried to the other end of the room and returned with a -powerful restorative. - -He held Gentleman Geff up on his left arm while he put the draught to -his lips with his right hand. - -The criminal drained the last drop, and then sank down upon his pillow, -while Longman withdrew his arm and replaced the empty glass. - -Gentleman Geff did not speak again. - -He was possessed of a fear of talking, lest he should “commit” himself. - -But he now reflected the more, though his deductions were still -confused. - -“No wonder I could not remember the details of my trial—a trial that -never occurred, but was only a dream of fever. But all the same, if it -has not yet come off, it is to come, unless I go!” - -He laughed a little to himself at this poor joke, and then he tried to -recall the incidents of that “disturbance” at Haymore Hall. - -But he could not think consecutively for many minutes before his -thoughts became entangled, and dreams were mingled with realities, and -false inferences deduced from the union. - -“I remember now,” he said to himself, “something about that row at -Haymore Hall, though my illness must have made some things seem vague to -me on first recovering my senses. But I remember now!” - -Even as he spoke the words and tried to marshal the facts in their -proper sequence, memory and imagination fled, and left his mind a vacuum -again. - -Some hours later, after Longman had given him a bowl of strong beef tea -and a glass of fine old port wine, his mental faculties rallied again, -though feebly, and he thought he could form a correct theory; he would -not try to get help in doing this by asking any question. He was too -much afraid of compromising himself in some way. - -“I do recall now,” he told himself, “the cause of that row at Haymore -Hall. Let me see—— - -“I had just arrived with my wife and my brother-in-law at Haymore, to -take possession, when I was met by officers with a warrant for my arrest -on the charge of murder—— - -“How was that, now? Let’s see—oh, yes! I was arrested upon a warrant, -issued under the extradition treaty with the United States, charged with -the murder of Randolph Hay in California, and of Jennie Montgomery in -New York——” - -Here the wretched man paused, shuddered and covered his face with his -hands. The horror of his crime overcame him, as it had so often done, -when it drove him to seek oblivion in strong drink, and finally made him -a drunkard. - -It was some time before he could resume his line of thought. - -“I know,” he mused at length, “that I denied the charge and resisted the -arrest, and that there was a fight. One of the officers clubbed me—on -the head—and I fell like an ox, and knew no more. When I came to myself -I was lying here.” - -He paused again, and seemed to labor to understand his present position. - -“How came I to be here?” he inquired of himself; and after a few minutes -exclaimed: - -“Oh, I know! I see it all now! I had given the living of Haymore to my -brother-in-law, Cassius Leegh—the scoundrel! When I was brained by the -club of that constable, of course I was more a dead than a living man, -and in no condition to be carted off ten miles to the Chuxton jail! So I -was placed under arrest and brought here in charge of constables. And -here I am in my brother-in-law’s rectory, guarded by officers, and -particularly by that Giant Gerion, who never leaves me, night or day—set -fire to him!” - -Gentleman Geff moaned and groaned and tossed until Longman brought him a -glass of milk punch, which seemed to soothe him. - -Then he resumed his self-communings: - -“I wonder, since I am in his rectory, which was also my gift to him, why -I never see Cassius Leegh? And I wonder where his sister, my bogus wife, -is? And, more than all, I wonder now—what brings James Campbell here?” - -He paused in distress, and then moaned to himself: - -“I give it up! I give it up! It is all past me! ‘Chaos has come again.’ -But one thing is clear, even in chaos—that is, I must escape from this -house. I must not wait to be taken to jail, as I should be as soon as -the doctor has pronounced me well enough to be removed.” - -He thought as intensely as he was capable of thinking, and then suddenly -formed a plan. - -“I will not get well enough to be removed while I stay here, and I will -escape from the house at the first opportunity.” - -From this day the patient became a puzzle to his physician as well as to -his attendants. He did not seem to gain in strength, but to grow weaker -and more helpless every day; notwithstanding that his appetite was good. -At night he was restless and delirious. - -“I confess that this case perplexes me,” Dr. Hobbs admitted to Mr. -Campbell. - -But the case grew out of a misunderstanding between the patient and his -attendants. - -Gentleman Geff, not quite in his right mind yet, believed himself to be -under arrest with the prospect of a prison, a trial and conviction -before him; whereas there was no intention on any one’s part of even -making an accusation against him. - -His physician and watchers, not knowing the delusion under which he -silently and fearfully suffered, could not suspect him of playing a part -to prolong his sojourn at the rectory and postpone his transfer to the -prison. - -This state of things continued for a week. There had been in this time -two opportunities for Gentleman Geff to escape—for, after all, he was -not watched as a criminal, but only as an invalid. There had been two -occasions on which he had been left alone for an hour or two; but on -both these the weather had been terrific with wind, snow and sleet, and -he waited for weather and opportunity both to favor him together. - -But one morning, after he had eaten a good breakfast, lain back on his -pillow, and pretended to fall into a stupor, as usual, when the doctor -was expected, something occurred that frightened him and hurried his -operations. - -The doctor came, accompanied on this occasion by Mr. Campbell, who did -not often intrude his unwelcome presence into the sick-room. - -The doctor leaned over the bed and inquired: - -“How are you, Capt. Montgomery?” - -There was no response. - -The doctor then laid his hand gently on the man’s shoulder to enforce -his attention and inquired: - -“How are you, sir?” - -Still there was no answer. - -Then the doctor examined his pulse, temperature and respiration, and -even lifted the eyelids and looked at the eyes. - -Then he turned to Mr. Campbell and said: - -“I feel like giving up the case. I honestly confess I can make nothing -of it. The man’s appetite, digestion and assimilation are excellent. His -pulse is strong, his temperature normal, his respiration perfect, and -yet he seems too weak to leave his bed, and he falls into delirium or -stupor day and night.” - -“Pray do not give up the case, doctor. If there is any one you would -like to have called in consultation now——” - -The rector paused. - -“Well, yes, sir, there is. Sir Ichabod Ingoldsby, the great authority on -the diseases of the brain and nervous system. And to get him from London -to the North Riding of Yorkshire would cost at least two hundred pounds, -even should his engagements permit him to come.” - -“Never mind what it costs, we will send for him. The young squire has -specially enjoined me to spare no expense, as he insists on footing all -the bills. Give me Sir Ichabod Ingoldsby’s address. I will telegraph him -at once. If his engagements will permit he may be here this afternoon.” - -“Scarcely this afternoon. He will have to make arrangements. Besides, he -always travels in the middle of the night to save time. If all should go -well we may see him to-morrow morning. Here is his address,” said Dr. -Hobbs, and he tore a leaf from his tablets and handed it to the rector. -Then both gentlemen left the room. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - A FLIGHT FOR FREEDOM - - -Gentleman Geff had heard every word spoken by the doctor and the rector. -He dared not wait the inspection of the skilled London specialist, the -great court physician, who would be sure to detect the deception so -successfully imposed upon the simple country practitioner. - -The eminent Sir Ichabod Ingoldsby might arrive the next morning. Then -he—Montgomery—must escape this very day or night, let the weather be -what it might. Any risk rather than the certainty of detection and of -all the horrors that must follow. - -And the weather was simply awful—“Ragnarok”—“the darkness of the gods.” -The snow had fallen all the preceding night and all that day. Although -there were four windows in the sick-room, and all the shutters were -open, yet such was the obscurity that the lamps had been lighted. - -Gentleman Geff was not alone until evening, when Longman, having served -an excellent supper to his charge and left the latter comfortably laid -back on his pillow, in what the nurse supposed to be a safe and sound -sleep, withdrew from the room to take his meal and refresh himself by a -walk up and down the covered front piazza, and no one took the watcher’s -place. - -This was Gentleman Geff’s golden opportunity, not to be lost. - -He got out of bed on tiptoes and went and bolted the door. - -Then he went to the closet to search for clothes to put on, if perchance -he might find any. - -He found his own suit that had been taken off him on the night he was -brought to the rectory and put to bed, and in the pocket of his coat his -_portemonnaie_, well filled as it had been. - -They were all there, even to his boots, his socks, his ulster and his -hat. He began to dress himself in great haste, but suddenly grew very -tired, for though not nearly so weak as he pretended to be, he was not -strong. - -He went to the buffet, where he knew Longman kept his wine and medicine, -and found a bottle of good old port. He unstopped it, put the mouth to -his lips and took a long draught, then a deep breath and another long -draught, repeated the process, and—thought he would take the bottle -along with him in his flight. - -He finished dressing himself without further fatigue, put the bottle of -wine in the pocket of his ulster, and went to the window overlooking the -back garden of the rectory. - -Escape from the room was safe and easy, as this was the parlor chamber -on the ground floor of the house. - -The window opened, but with a sudden thought he turned back and put out -the lights and locked as well as bolted the door. These precautions he -thought were necessary to delay the discovery of his flight. - -Then he went back to the window and stepped through it, closing it -behind him. - -Where now? - -To the Chuxton railway station and on to London, to lose himself in that -great wilderness of human beings until he could take ship to some -foreign country with which there was no extradition treaty. - -But what a night it was! Dark as pitch but for the spectral light of the -snow. The snow was still falling heavily as ever, but the wind had risen -in mighty strength and was driving not only the falling but the fallen -snow into drifts. - -If he had but a lantern! But that was an impossible convenience to him. - -He drew the bottle from his pocket, took another long draught from it, -replaced it, and set out through “night and storm and darkness” and -bitterest cold on his flight for life. - -More by instinct or accident than by light and knowledge he found his -way around the back wall of the rectory garden to that country road -which ran in front of the church, the rectory and Haymore Park, and -crossed the highroad at about a mile distant. - -The snow fell thicker and faster, the wind rose higher and stronger, and -the night grew colder and darker. - -He plunged onward through the deepening snow, sometimes almost smothered -in the drifts, and requiring all the strength he could muster to -struggle out of them. - -He lost his way, as it was inevitable he should. Even had it been day, -instead of the darkest night that ever fell upon the earth, the highroad -could not have been distinguished from the meadows except by certain -tall landmarks. Now it was impossible to distinguish it. - -Gentleman Geff knew that he had lost his way, had hopelessly lost it, -yet he floundered on through the black chaos on the chance of coming to -some place where he could find shelter from the bitter cold, the beating -wind, the bottomless drifts and the tempest of driving snow that seemed -to be turned to a shower of ice spikes and stung like the sting of -wasps. - -On and on he floundered and struggled, not daring to stop, for to stop -would be to die. - -Again and again he applied himself to his bottle until it was empty. -Then he let it fall, for indeed his numbed hands could scarcely hold it. - -He grew weaker and weaker; his limbs seemed too heavy to lift, -especially through deep snow; his brain grew dizzy, his mind confused. -He tried to keep his senses and his feet; he felt that if he sank to the -ground it must be into his grave. - -At length the crisis came; his brain reeled, his limbs gave way, he lost -consciousness and fell to the earth. - -Meanwhile, at the rectory, Longman took his supper with his mother in -their warm, bright sitting-room adjoining the kitchen, everything around -them looking so much more comfortable in contrast to the storm raging -without. - -“I pity any poor wayfarer abroad to-night,” said Elspeth as she took the -steaming coffee pot from the hob of the glowing grate and set it on the -table, little guessing that the poor wretch they had been taking care of -for two months was just setting out to brave it at its worst. - -“Oh, this is bad enough, but it is nothing at all to the awful storms -among the Sierra Nevadas,” said Longman as he sat down to the table and -took the cup of coffee his mother had poured out for him. - -And on her expressing her surprise and wonder, he began to entertain her -with marrow-freezing stories of overwhelmed trains of emigrant wagons -and buried villages of settlers among the snow mountains. - -This delayed him at the supper table so much longer than usual that he -had but little time to take his “constitutional” on the covered front -piazza. - -So after a turn or two up and down he went into the house and up to the -door of the sick-room. - -He turned the knob and pushed the door, but found it was locked within. - -“What whim is this, I wonder?” he said. “I hope the London doctor will -order the beast to an idiot asylum. I suppose they wouldn’t take him in -with the apes at the Zoo. Captain! Capt. Montgomery!” he exclaimed, -rapping loudly. - -Not a sound from within. - -Then he went around to the back piazza and looked through the windows. - -All as dark as pitch in the room. - -“What’s up now, I wonder?” he asked himself, and then went back to the -door and tried once more by rapping and calling to bring some response -from the room. - -But now the noise reached the rector, who was seated at his desk in his -study writing his sermon. - -He laid down his pen and came into the hall, where he found Longman -still hammering and calling. - -“What is the matter now, Longman?” inquired the rector. - -“This door is fastened from within, sir, and I can neither get into the -room nor make him hear me,” replied the man. - -Of course, unreasonable as it was to try the experiment in which the -giant had failed, the rector said: - -“Let me try!” - -Longman gave way. - -The rector rapped a little cannonade upon the door and shouted: - -“Capt. Montgomery!” - -He might as well have shouted: - -“Jupiter Tonnerres!” to the snowstorm for any good effect. - -“Shall I burst the door open, sir?” inquired Longman. - -“No.” - -“I wonder what the fellow is up to now!” said Longman. - -“Heaven knows!” sighed the rector. - -“Will I break the door open, sir?” again asked Longman. - -“No, you may bring me a common table knife with the thinnest blade you -can find, and come with me to the back piazza.” - -They left the door, and a few minutes later met under the very window by -which the fugitive had made his escape, after re-closing the shutters -that fastened with a spring catch behind him. - -“Now with this knife I know how to loosen the catches,” said the rector; -and he laid the blade of the knife flat on the stone sill, slipped it -under the catch, and so opened the shutters. Then he slipped the knife -between the upper and lower sash of the window and turned the button and -so raised the sash. - -“That is a very badly secured window in case of burglars,” remarked -Longman. - -“Yes, but you see there are no burglars around Haymore. However, I do -intend to have a bolt put on these shutters,” said the rector, and he -stepped through the window into the room, closely followed by Longman. - -All was dark as pitch but for the dull glow of the coal fire in the -grate. - -They knew it was utterly useless to call, yet both at the same moment -cried out: - -“Capt. Montgomery! Where are you?” - -No answer came. - -Longman took a match from the safe on the mantelpiece, kindled it at the -fire and lighted the astral. - -The room was illuminated in an instant, and every nook and cranny -clearly visible. Yet no sign of the missing man. Longman hastened to the -bed, from which he drew the curtains. It was vacant. - -“He has run away, sir. The fraud, who pretended to be so helpless that -he couldn’t hold a glass to his lips, has been playing it on us all this -time, as I suspected him of doing all along, and now he has run away!” -said Longman. - -“Oh, I think not. Why should he deceive us? Why should he run off? No -one was going to harm him,” said the rector, still peering around the -room as if he expected to find Gentleman Geff in some nook or corner. - -“He mightn’t have felt so sure of that, sir. A guilty conscience, you -know.” - -“I cannot think but what he has gone off in a fit of violent mania.” - -“Then, in that case, he would have gone in his night clothes, just as he -jumped out of bed; but here are the empty shelves and pegs, with every -article of his wearing apparel gone,” said Longman, coming out of the -closet which he had been examining. “And why should he take pains to -lock and bolt the door, and put out the light so as to retard the -discovery of his flight as long as possible?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. Lunatics are well known to be very cunning. But, -Longman, he must be instantly followed and found, if possible. Oh, -heavens! Think of the man being out on such a night as this! He will -surely perish,” said the rector. And he hurriedly unfastened the door, -rushed out into the passage, took his storm cloak from the rack and his -hat from its peg, and while he nervously prepared himself to brave the -tempest he called out again to the hunter: - -“Longman! For Heaven’s sake get on your coat and find a lantern and come -with me. There is no one but you and me to go in search of this wretched -man, whom we must not leave to perish in the snow.” - -Almost as soon as the rector had ceased to speak, Longman was by his -side, prepared for the expedition. - -“He must have escaped by that back window, which is the only one that -will close with springs. We must search the road leading for the back -gate of the garden. Come,” said the rector, going before with the -lighted lantern, which he had taken from the hand of Longman. - -They issued through the rear door, passed through the garden and out of -the rear gate. - -Holding the lantern near the ground the rector moved slowly and -carefully through the white chaos. - -The searchers had not groped many yards from the rectory gate when Mr. -Campbell saw something black upon the white ground. - -He stooped to examine it, and cried out: - -“Here he is, Longman; but whether dear or alive, poor wretch, I do not -know. Come and help me to lift him.” - -“He has not been lying here five minutes, or he would be covered with -snow. So he may not be dead.” - -Yes, they had found the body of Gentleman Geff within fifty yards of the -rectory wall. - -Through the dark night and blinding snow and distracting wind he had -lost his reckoning and wandered in a circle until he had fallen down -where they found him. - -They lifted him up and bore him into the rectory to his own room, -undressed him, wrapped him in blankets, and put him to bed. - -He was in the deep sleep that precedes death by freezing. He only -partially awoke while they were working over him; but he did not speak. - -They gave him warm spiced brandy and water, which he swallowed -mechanically. - -All night long they watched and worked over him. - -In the morning, when James Campbell left the sick-room to make his -toilet before going to breakfast, he left Gentleman Geff in what seemed -a good sleep. - -But, while he sat at table explaining to his wife and daughter why he -had been out of his room all night, Longman suddenly burst in upon them -and said: - -“Come in, for Heaven’s sake! He is taken with a hemorrhage that I think -will carry him off!” - -“Longman, run and fetch Dr. Hobbs. Mrs. Campbell and myself will attend -to Montgomery.” - -The hunter fled out of the front door to fetch the physician, while Mr. -and Mrs. Campbell rushed to the help of the sufferer. - -It was an appalling spectacle! - -The blood driven by the freezing cold to the lungs had congested there, -and notwithstanding all the means that had been taken to restore his -consciousness and save his life, though these means had been thus far -successful, yet the congestion of the lungs had increased until it burst -an artery and the hemorrhage followed. It was not fatal all at once, for -Mr. and Mrs. Campbell called all their skill and experience into service -and succeeded in stopping the flow before the arrival of the doctor. - -When the latter came to the bedside of the patient he found him laid -back on his bed, as pale as death, as weak as a new-born infant, and -scarcely breathing, his pulse scarcely beating. - -Dr. Hobbs approved all the rector had done, and then inquired: - -“Did you get an answer from Sir Ichabod Ingoldsby?” - -“Yes, by telegram. He cannot leave London at this crisis.” - -“Well, it does not matter now. This is a case that any country doctor or -any old woman might understand and treat.” - -“What do you think of his chance of life?” whispered the rector. - -“It is a poorer one than he has yet had,” replied the doctor, looking at -the pallid, wizen face, that seemed to have shrunken to half its size -since his terrible loss of blood. - -Hetty cried for pity. - -“If he has any relatives they should be informed, for I do not think he -will ever rise from that bed again,” said Dr. Hobbs. - -“I know of none, except the Earl of Engelmeed and the Viscount -Stoors—his uncle and his cousin. I will write to the earl to-day,” said -Mr. Campbell. - -“Engelmeed, of Engelwode, in Cumberland? That is where typhoid fever is -raging so fiercely,” remarked Dr. Hobbs. - -Here followed some talk of that pestilence, and finally the doctor arose -and took his leave, promising to return in the afternoon. - -Mr. Campbell wrote to the Earl of Engelmeed, advising him of his -nephew’s dangerous illness, and posted the letter that forenoon. - -Two days later he got a reply, not from the earl, but from the latter’s -steward, announcing the death of the Viscount Stoors and the extreme -illness of Lord Engelmeed, whose death was hourly expected. - -Over this letter the rector fell into deep thought. - -Then he put on his coat and hat, and taking the letter with him, walked -over to Haymore Hall. - -He was shown into the library, where he found Ran reading. - -“Good-morning, Mr. Hay. Will you let me look at your ‘Burke’s Peerage’ -for a moment?” - -“Certainly. How do you do, Mr. Campbell? And how is your family—and your -patient?” inquired Ran as he arose and shook hands with the rector, and -then went to the bookcase and took down the “Peerage.” - -“The family is well. The invalid very low. I received a letter from the -steward of Engelwode this morning, in answer to the one I wrote to the -earl, informing me of the death of the Viscount Stoors and the extreme -illness of Lord Engelmeed, whose demise was then hourly expected.” - -“Indeed! Had they taken the fever?” - -“Yes. It was madness for them to remain at Engelwode during its -prevalence. It is from hearing of these occurrences that I wish to -consult Burke. I think that since the death of Lord Stoors, our wretch, -Montgomery, is heir presumptive to the title and estate,” said the -rector as he took the heavy red volume from the hands of the young -squire, laid it on the library table, and sat down to examine it. - -Ran resumed his seat. - -“It is as I thought. There is no other son. And Kightly Montgomery, as -the eldest son of the next brother, the late Gen. Montgomery, is heir -presumptive to the earldom, and may even now be Earl of Engelmeed. Think -of it!” exclaimed the rector as he closed the book. “Wealth and rank, -for which the wretched man periled his soul and fatally wrecked his life -to obtain feloniously, now come to him lawfully and honorably, but on -his deathbed!” - -“Yes, it is terrible. If he had but waited! Now it seems the iron of -fate—this useless accession to fortune!” sighed Ran. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - WINDING UP - - -Ran and Judy had planned to go to London in the spring, to live in -retirement and to pursue their studies under private tutors. But as the -season opened in all its beauty they became so enchanted with their -delightful country home that they could not bear the thought of leaving -it. - -“Couldn’t we have a resident tutor?” inquired Ran with some hesitation -as he and Judy were discussing the question one morning, seated on a -rustic bench under an old oak tree in their lovely lawn. - -“‘A resident tutor?’” repeated Judy dubiously. - -“Yes, such as the gentry have for their children.” - -“For their children,’ of course, but not for grown people; not for -themselves. No, Ran, dear, we could not have a resident tutor for you -and me. That would set the servants to talking and the neighbors to -gossiping; and they would wonder where we had been brought up, perhaps -laugh at us, perhaps scorn us. I should not mind it for myself, Ran, but -I should mind it a great deal for you.” - -“That is not the way I feel, Judy, dear, for I do not care a fig what -they say of me, but I could not bear to have them criticise you.” - -“So, you see, Ran, we could not have a resident tutor.” - -“I suppose we shall have to go and hide ourselves in London to pursue -our studies, Judy, dear.” - -“Yes,” said the young woman with a deep sigh, “but mightn’t we put off -going until winter? Oh, it is so hard to leave this lovely place in the -glory of the spring.” - -“Judy, love, time is passing quickly, and our education is very -backward.” - -“Especially mine,” sighed Judy. - -“But I tell you what I will do!” exclaimed Ran with sudden inspiration. -“I will confide the whole matter to Mr. Campbell, and take counsel with -him.” - -“The very thing! And, oh, Ran!” exclaimed Judy, catching inspiration in -her turn, “might he not become our tutor? Give us an hour three or four -times a week?” - -Ran fell into thought, but did not reply. - -“I have so often heard of clergymen taking pupils. Even taking them in -their houses. But he need not do that. Could he not come to us or let us -go to him a few times every week?” - -“I declare, Judy, darling, that is a splendid idea of yours, and I will -ask him, and if he should consent to do as we wish, why, then, we need -not bother ourselves about going to London to hide ourselves and look -for teachers!” exclaimed Ran in delight. - -“And then there need be no gossip. No one need know what brings the -rector to our library or takes us to his study,” concluded Judy. - -“I will go and see Mr. Campbell at once,” exclaimed Ran, with boyish -eagerness, as he sprang up, seized his hat from the ground and set off -in a brisk walk for the rectory. - -But he met the rector full tilt at the lodge gate, as Mr. Campbell was -on his way to make a call at the house. - -They both burst out laughing as they came into collision, and the -minister took Ran’s arm, turned him about and walked with him back to -the rustic seat where Judy sat. - -She rose to welcome the visitor and to make room for him beside her on -the bench. - -“Good-morning, ma’am,” he said, lifting his hat and taking the offered -seat. “We have lovely weather just now. It must be lovely even in -London. In fact, there is always delightful weather in London during -May, when the season is at its height. Do you leave for town soon?” - -“Oh, I hope not. I never, never, never wish to leave for town,” said -Judy, with a genuine pout. - -“I am sure I wish you never would,” laughed Mr. Campbell. “But I thought -you were daily expecting to start,” he added, turning to Ran. - -“So we have been; but we have postponed our departure from day to day, -from reluctance to leave the country,” replied the young man. - -“But the height of the season will soon be over. The weather will grow -warm and London intolerable. Much as I should desire for my own sake to -detain you here, I should advise you not to delay your departure.” - -“But we don’t want to go at all! And we were not going for the sake of -the season, anyhow. And it depends on you, Mr. Campbell, whether we go -or not!” exclaimed Judy, taking the initiative and breaking right into -the midst of the matter. - -“On me, Mrs. Hay!” inquired Mr. Campbell, with a puzzled air. - -“Ran, tell him!” commanded Judy. - -And then Randolph Hay confided to James Campbell the story of his own -and Judy’s neglected education, and their plans for remedying their -defects, and ended by diffidently proposing that the minister should, if -he pleased, become the director of their studies. - -“I fear that my petition is a most presumptuous one, sir; but I hope and -trust that you will not consider it offensive. If so, I pray you to -pardon me.” - -“My young friend, on the contrary, your proposal is both flattering and -agreeable. I shall gladly and gratefully undertake the task for which -circumstances as well as, I hope, college training, have fitted me.” - -“I thank you with all my heart, Mr. Campbell. You have made everything -smooth and pleasant for us,” heartily responded Ran. - -Judy caught the minister’s hand, pressed it between both hers, and so -expressed her gratitude. - -Later all the details of the engagement were arranged between the -minister and his pupils. - -On Ran’s pressing entreaty, Mr. Campbell consented to stay and dine with -them that day. And it was during his visit that the evening mail brought -them foreign letters from Cleve Stuart, with the news of his Uncle John -Cleve’s death. - -“A good man gone to his rest,” was the comment of the clergyman. - -The news of death—even of the death of a stranger whom we only knew by -report—always casts a shadow, for a longer or a shorter time, over the -circle into which it is brought. - -Bright Judy was the first to smile and dispel the cloud. - -“And now, Mr. Campbell, it is so well that you have consented to take -pity on us, for under present circumstances we could not leave Haymore,” -she said. - -The minister raised his brows interrogatively. - -“Because we must write and ask our friends to come and spend the summer -with us here.” - -“Ah! I understand,” said the rector. - -“Your patient lingers longer than any of us expected,” remarked Ran. - -“Yes,” replied Mr. Campbell, “his tenacity of life is really wonderful, -poor soul!” - -And he arose and bade his hosts good-night. - -Gentleman Geff lay slowly sinking at the rectory of Haymore. - -The cold contracted on that fatal winter night of his attempted flight -had settled on his lungs, and in the deeply inflamed condition of the -whole system from alcoholism, had fastened with fatal tenacity upon his -system. - -But with the change in the seat of the disease—which, while it slowly -destroyed his lungs, completely relieved his brain—his mental faculties -were perfectly restored, with clear recollection of all that had -transpired, so that he knew his antecedents and his present surroundings -quite as well as our readers do. He knew also that he had no reason to -fear prosecution. His only fear—a secret one—was of death, “and after -death the judgment.” - -He had not been prosecuted for any of his felonies, which, indeed, were -surrounded by such circumstances as admitted of their being ignored -rather than compounded. - -All the documents by which he had seemed to secure a merely nominal -possession of the Haymore estate concerned the name of Randolph Hay, and -for all the law or the public knew, or need know, that name had been -claimed only by its real owner, the gentleman now in peaceable -possession of the Haymore estate, and never by the impostor who had -tried to take it. - -So there was no legal obligation upon any one to bring a criminal -prosecution for fraud and forgery upon the dying malefactor. - -And as to his heavier crimes of bigamy, robbery and attempted murder -which had been committed in the United States, there was not the least -likelihood that his surrender under the extradition treaty would ever be -demanded by that government to answer for them before an American -tribunal. - -All whom he had so deeply injured, or tried to injure, had freely -forgiven him—all, that is to say, except Lamia Leegh, who in her bitter -humiliation was incapable of forgiving him. - -The rector had to strive and pray for grace before he could pardon the -man who had wronged his daughter. But after this grace was given, James -Campbell spent many hours beside the bed of the dying man, reading to -him, praying with him, persuading him to repentance, exhorting him to -faith. - -Gentleman Geff was despairing, and at times defiant in his despair. - -“You needn’t talk to me, Mr. Campbell. I am as the devil made me. As I -‘have sown’ I ‘must reap.’ If there is anything that can give me -satisfaction now, it is that, after all, I have no blood on my -conscience. Bad as you may think me, I was never cut out for a murderer. -No, nor for a drunkard. Circumstances, temptation, opportunity—these -make destiny. I took to drink to drown remorse. I was a fool for feeling -it. Bah! how can a creature of destiny be responsible for anything he -does? Yet I am glad there is no blood on my hands.” - -Mr. Campbell had spoken to Jennie, asking her if she could not overcome -her repugnance so far as to go in and speak to Montgomery, now that he -was in his senses. - -But Jennie shuddered, as she replied: - -“Papa, he has never even asked to see me, and I am glad he has not. I -have forgiven him. Indeed, indeed I have! And I pray for him. Indeed, -indeed I do! Not only night and morning, at the regular prayers, but -through the day, whenever I think of him, I pray for him earnestly, -fervently. I do! But, papa, I cannot even endure the thought of seeing -him.” - -“Then, my child, you have not truly forgiven him. You must pray for -yourself, dear—for the gift of the grace of charity,” gravely replied -the rector. - -No, Gentleman Geff had never asked to see his wife or child: never even -referred to either. Mr. Campbell was not sure that the man knew they -were in the house. - -But one morning, when the rector was sitting beside him, Montgomery -suddenly said: - -“I think it is a confounded shame that a sick man cannot be permitted to -see his wife and child.” - -“But you can be permitted to see them. Do you wish to do so?” gently -inquired the minister. - -“I should think I did. I have never even set eyes on the boy, and he -must be about nine months old by this time.” - -“Your child is not a boy, but a girl,” said the rector. - -“Now there! I did not even know the sex of my own child, who is nearly a -year old, and has been under the same roof with me for several weeks. -And this a Christian household!” - -“If you feel equal to the interview, I will go and call my daughter now -and ask her to come and bring the little girl.” - -“No. Let her come alone the first time. One at a time is all I can -stand.” - -James Campbell went down to the back parlor, where he found his wife and -daughter seated at their needlework. - -“Jennie, my darling,” he said, gently laying his hand upon her head, -“Montgomery has just asked to see you. Will you come to him?” - -“Oh, papa! I cannot! I cannot!” she replied, with a shiver. - -“Not come to a dying—yes, I must say it,” he added, after a painful -hesitation—“husband, when he sends for you?” - -“He has forfeited that name, papa,” very firmly replied the wronged -wife. - -“But you must forgive him, my child.” - -“I do forgive him.” - -“Well, then, you must come with me to him.” - -“Oh, papa, I cannot! Indeed I cannot!” - -“Then you do not forgive him, although he is dying?” - -“Is he dying, papa?” she inquired in a pitiful voice. - -“Not this moment, my dear. But Dr. Hobbs declares that he cannot live -many days in any case, and may not live an hour if another hemorrhage -should come on. Will you come with me, my dear?” - -“Oh, papa, I cannot!” - -“Jennie, how can you be so hard-hearted?” demanded her mother, now -entering into the conversation for the first time. “I am ashamed of you, -and afraid for you lest you be punished. After the man is dead and gone, -and you can never be kind to him again, you will be sorry. Go, at least, -and speak to him if you only stay one minute.” - -“Come, Jennie,” said her father. - -And then the young woman arose and followed the clergyman to the -sick-room. - -She entered that room under protest; but when she saw the ghastly, -death-stricken face, the skeleton hand stretched out to her, the hollow, -sunken, unearthly eyes fixed upon her, she uttered a low cry of horror -and pity, and sank down on her knees beside the bed, took his hand and -dropped her face upon it. - -The rector turned and left the room, closing the door after him. - -“There, there, don’t cry! What is the use? Jennie, I am sorry that I -ever hurt you in any way. That is what I wanted to say to you, and that -is why I sent for you,” he said, speaking in a rather faint and -faltering voice. - -She did not reply, but sobbed in silence. - -“Jennie, did you hear what I said to you?” he inquired. - -“Yes, I heard,” she sighed. - -“Well, I said I was sorry I hurt you. Well, Jennie?” he asked, and then -paused as if expecting some definite answer. - -“I, too, am sorry that you hurt me, or anybody else, or yourself worse -than all, Kightly. I am very sorry, and I pray to the Lord for you -daily, almost hourly. Do you pray for yourself, Kightly?” - -“No, I don’t! What would be the use? ‘God is not mocked.’” - -“But ‘He is full of compassion,’ Kightly. He——” - -“There, that will do!” said the sick man, interrupting her. “You know -nothing about it! Go now. I have said what I sent for you to say to you. -Now go, please. I can’t stand much of this sort of thing,” he muttered -in a weak, petulant voice. - -“I will come again to you when you want me, Kightly,” she said, rising. - -“All right. And bring the youngster—but not to-day. There, there—go -along with you,” said the man, turning his face to the wall and closing -his eyes. Jennie left the room. - -The next day she took the baby in to see its father. - -She sat down in a chair beside the bed, and sat the baby on the top of -the bed near its father’s head. - -And there she watched it. - -The man showed but very little interest in his child. - -“I thought, of course, it was a boy,” he said; “but, poor little devil, -it is better that it should be a girl, for I have no money to leave it, -but being a girl, it can marry some of these days and live on some other -fellow’s money. Take it away now, Jennie. I can’t stand much of it,” he -said. - -And the mortified young mother took away the dazed and depressed baby -and afterward said to her own mamma: - -“I never knew Essie to behave so stupidly. You might have thought she -was a little idiot.” - -“Poor baby! The dark room and the haggard man subdued her spirits. It is -a wonder she had not cried,” replied the grandmother. - -“I am very glad she did not—that would have made him worse,” said -Jennie. - -After this the sinking man declined daily. - -Jennie spent hours at his bedside, often having the baby with her when -he could bear it. - -Mrs. Campbell had been a daily visitor and an occasional nurse from the -time he was first brought to the house. - -Mrs. Longman never left him except for necessary rest and refreshment. - -The gamekeeper’s cottage was ready for occupancy, but neither the mother -nor the son would leave the suffering sinner to take possession of its -comforts and emoluments. - -And Ran heartily excused them both under the circumstances and paid the -man’s salary. - -Gentleman Geff had never been told of the death of his cousin, the -Viscount Stoors. It was thought by his attendants that the news of the -decease of a relative that left him, the dying sinner, heir presumptive -of an earldom, would be, if not too sorrowful, certainly too startling, -too exciting for the safety of an invalid, whose pulse must not be -hurried in the slightest degree lest it should bring on a hemorrhage -that must carry off the patient. - -One day, about this time, Montgomery rallied, and seemed so much better -that the doctor allowed him to sit up in bed, propped by pillows. - -Mr. Campbell sat by him, reading aloud the morning’s paper, when Longman -came in bringing a letter, which he placed in the hands of the rector. - -It was in a deep, black-bordered envelope, sealed with a broad black -seal and directed to - - THE REV. JAMES CAMPBELL, - Haymore Rectory, - Haymore, Yorkshire. - -“Excuse me!” he said, and stepped quickly to the furthest window lest -the sick man should see the herald of death. - -He opened and read the letter, which was from Abel Stout, the steward of -Engelwode, and was as follows: - - “ENGELWODE CASTLE, - “May 28, 187—. - - “REV. AND DEAR SIR: It is my painful duty to announce to you the - decease of Charles-George-Francis-Henry, tenth earl of Engelmeed, who - expired at one-fifteen this A. M., and of the succession of Capt. the - Hon. Kightly Montgomery as eleventh earl. I inclose a letter, which I - beg you to be so kind as to hand to his lordship, if my lord is still - in your house, or to forward to his address if he should have left, as - the presence of his lordship here is imperatively necessary. I have - the honor to remain, reverend sir, - - “Your obedient servant, - “ABEL STOUT.” - -The inclosed letter was superscribed very formally in full title to - - The Right Honorable - THE EARL OF ENGELMEED. - -James Campbell stared at this superscription and then glanced at the -wreck on the bed, who now bore the dignity of an earldom. - -He could not hesitate to deliver this letter, however it might affect -his patient. He must deliver it! He had no choice. - -But what a shock! what a revelation! what a mockery it would now be to -him!—to him who had sinned for wealth and rank, who had sold his -birthright for a mess of pottage and found the dish—poisoned! - -The Earl of Engelmeed was dead. His son and heir-apparent had died -before him, and now—their next of kin, their worthless relative, Kightly -Montgomery, the penniless adventurer, who had been driven by greed of -gold and love of luxury to crime and to death—the sinful, dying Kightly -Montgomery, was now master of Engelwode, with a rent roll of twenty -thousand pounds a year! - -Ah, if he had only been good and true, he would have lived to enjoy the -old title and the rich estate—more honors than he could possibly have -gained by all his crimes, even though each one of them had been a -complete success! - -But now, what a cruel mockery of fate! - -Mr. Campbell, reflecting on all these matters, felt really sorry for the -wretched criminal, to whom the unexpected news of his succession to the -earldom, coming to him in his last hours, must truly seem the bitterest -irony of fortune. - -“You have bad news there,” said the dying man, glancing at the broad, -black-edged envelope. - -“Yes, I fear so. It comes from Engelwode, in Cumberland, where you have -relatives, I think,” replied the rector gravely. - -“Oh, yes, relatives!” sneered the new earl, who did not even suspect -that he was one. - - “‘A little more than kin, and less than kind.’ - -There is no love lost between us, believe me.” - -Hearing this, the rector did not consider it necessary to be very -cautious in breaking this news. Nevertheless, he said: - -“Let me give you your restorative before we say anything more about the -letter.” - -And he arose and poured out the draught, some powerful tonic, compounded -of beef, coca and brandy, and administered it. Then he replaced the -glass on the table and said: - -“The letter is for you, my lord.” - -“What the devil do you mean?” demanded the new earl. - -“Will you take the letter and look at it? Have you light enough? Shall I -draw up the shades?” - -“No,” said the patient, taking the letter and squinting at it. “This is -for my uncle, not for me. Though how it should have come here I can’t -imagine.” - -“Your lordship’s uncle, the late earl, is dead, my lord,” quietly -replied the rector. - -“Dead!” - -“Yes.” - -“Dead! But there is Stoors.” - -“He died before his father. But read your letter, my lord,” said the -rector, purposely ringing the changes on the title that he would have -too much good taste to bestow on the heir of an earldom under ordinary -circumstances, but on this impenitent sinner, on this unpunished felon, -on this dying peer, he lavished the honor with unction in the very -bitterness of irony. - -“Read your letter, my lord.” - -“I cannot! Oh, this is too terrible!” groaned the dying earl, covering -his face with his hands. - -Did he mean, or did the rector for one moment believe that he meant, the -sudden death of his relatives, so near together, was too terrible? - -No, indeed. The man meant, and the rector knew that he meant, to receive -this rich and august inheritance just at the hour of death was indeed -“too terrible”—was insupportable. - -Poor wretch! he burst into tears and sobbed aloud, dropping back on his -pillow and turning his face to the wall. - -“Pray try to be calm, my lord. This emotion will do you a mischief,” -pleaded Mr. Campbell. - -“Go and bring my wife and child to me. Let me tell them the news,” he -exclaimed, and then burst into the most sarcastic peal of laughter the -rector thought he had ever heard. He left the room and went to find his -daughter, whom he came upon, as usual, seated beside her mother and -engaged in needlework over the baby’s cradle. - -“Come, my dear. Montgomery wants you. Bring the little one along with -you. And, Hetty, dear, you had better come also,” he said. - -Both women looked up anxiously, half expecting that this was their final -summons to the sick-room; that now “the end of earth” for Kightly -Montgomery was at hand. - -“Is anything the matter, Jim?” inquired Hetty, while Jennie’s eyes asked -the same question. - -“News of Montgomery’s relatives in Cumberland, that is all,” replied the -rector. - -“What news?” demanded Hetty. - -“He prefers to announce it in person.” - -“Dear me! How mysterious we are! Come on, Jennie!” said Mrs. Campbell, -taking her husband’s arm and leading the way. - -Jennie picked up her baby and followed. - -They entered the sick-room. - -The sick man held out his hand to his wife, saying: - -“Come here, Jennie, my girl! You are Countess of Engelmeed! Did you know -it? And that doll in your arms is Lady Esther Montgomery!—for a few -hours only while I draw the breath of life. Afterward you will only be -countess dowager, while she will be countess in her own right. For the -earldom of Engelmeed is not a male feoff exclusively, but failing the -male line which fails in me, will ‘fall to the distaff,’ as represented -by that rag baby of yours. So I think—you are com——” He paused in sudden -pain and prostration. - -“Do not speak again for the present, my lord. You will hurt yourself. -Rest a while,” said the rector, while Jennie looked at her mother in -helpless dismay. - -“He is delirious again, my dear,” whispered Mrs. Campbell in reply to -that look. - -“Stoop down——” muttered the dying man in a low, faint, husky voice. - -Jennie bent over him to catch his failing words. - -“You will be—compensated—for all—you have gone through—by being made—a -countess—you ought——” - -His voice suddenly ceased. A spasm of pain traversed his face. - -“My lord! my lord! Have mercy on yourself and keep still,” pleaded the -rector. - -It was too late. A wild look flew into the eyes of the dying man and -fixed them on the rector’s face. A torrent of blood gushed from his -mouth. Gentleman Geff had spoken his last words, and in a very few -minutes he had drawn his last breath. - -Jennie threw herself sobbing into the arms of her father. She was too -young to have much self-control, but whether now she wept from grief, -horror or compassion, or all three combined, she could not herself have -told. - -Her father took her babe to his bosom and led her to her own room, where -he made her lie down on her bed and placed the child beside her. - -The rector went to his study and wrote a letter to the steward at -Engelwode, telling him what had happened. - -Then he walked over to Haymore Hall to carry the news to Mr. Randolph -Hay and to confer with him on what was next to be done. - -Ran and Judy were both shocked and grieved at the fate of their -enemy—their enemy, however, only in so far as he tried to wrong them -primarily with the wish to benefit himself rather than to injure them. - -“The remains should be taken to Engelwode Castle and placed in the -family vault, of course,” said the rector. “And as the last earl died -without having had time to make a will between his succession and his -death, my granddaughter, the little countess, will be a ward in -chancery.” - -“And no doubt the lord chancellor will constitute you, sir, the guardian -of her person and a trustee of her estate,” added Ran. - -“Perhaps—most likely, indeed; in which case they will associate some -other reliable man with me in the onerous charge. And I should like you -to be that man, Hay,” pleaded the parson. - -“With pleasure; if the lord chancellor will appoint me,” answered Ran. - -“Is Jennie much distressed, sir?” inquired Judy, sympathetically. - -“Yes, madam. She is very much agitated.” - -“May I go to her? Could I do her any good?” - -“I feel sure you could. I should feel very grateful to you.” - -Judy hurried into the house and got her wraps, and came out to join the -rector in his walk homeward. - -At the rectory door they were met by Mrs. Campbell, who, after very -gravely saluting Judy and thanking her for coming, turned to the rector -and inquired: - -“What was all that the wretched man was rambling about in his last hour? -Was there any foundation of truth in it?” - -“It was all truth, Hetty, from foundation rock—to carry out your -simile—to capping stone; and baby Essie is now Countess of Engelmeed in -her own right and a ward in chancery.” - -“Well, well, well! She doesn’t know it—Jennie, I mean, of course. She -thinks he was out of his head.” - -“Yes, I saw she did; but it is true,” said the rector, as they entered -the house. - -A week later the remains of the last Earl of Engelmeed were laid in the -vault of his forefathers, amid all - - “The pride, pomp and circumstance” - -of funeral parade. - -After the ceremonies the rector, with his wife, daughter and grandchild, -returned to the rectory, where they were all to live during the minority -of the infant countess. - -Ran and Judy came back to their beloved home, but had scarcely got -settled there when they received letters announcing the speedy arrival -of Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart, with their children and a friend—Mr. -O’Melaghlin, of Arghalee, in Antrim. - -“I wonder who he is,” pondered Ran, as he took the letter over to the -rectory to show it to Mr. Campbell. - -“Why, I know the name and the place, but not the man. I have been to -Arghalee. All except the very ground on which the ancient castle stands, -and which the impoverished O’Melaghlin would not sell under any stress -of fortune, forms a part of the duke’s estate. The castle is one of the -show places of the neighborhood; not for its parks, plantations or -picture galleries, by any means—for there are none—but for the great -antiquity of the ruins. The owner was supposed to be traveling abroad. -He is The O’Melaghlin in question, of course. The guidebook to the -ancient castle shows the family to be lineal descendants from Roderick -O’Melaghlin, monarch of Meath, and more remotely from Konn, a somewhat -mythical king of prehistoric Ireland. So, you see, you will have an -illustrious guest, though he may be as poor as ‘Job’s turkey.’” - -“No; the letter says he has made an immense fortune in the gold mines of -Australia, and is coming back to live on his estate.” - -“When do you expect them?” - -“By the next steamer—for this letter was written from New York the day -before they were to start.” - -“Ah!” said the rector. - -And Ran, having communicated his good news, went home to his Judy. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - “ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL” - - -Meanwhile, Cleve, Palma, their children, servant, and, last and -loftiest, The O’Melaghlin were coming over as fast as wind and steam -could bring them. - -They had unusually fine weather for the whole trip. They made some very -pleasant acquaintances, and formed some very fast friendships among -their fellow passengers, with whom they were all very popular. - -The eccentricities of The O’Melaghlin were endless sources of amusement -to the passengers as to our own party, to whom they were also causes of -frequent annoyance. - -For instance, O’Melaghlin always addressed Mr. Cleve Stuart as -“Wolfscliff.” And not infrequently, when he had had too much wine for -dinner, the chieftain would hail his friend from across the table as -“O’Wolfscliff,” or speak of him to another person as “The O’Wolfscliff.” - -Besides this, he would reiterate, in season and out of season, his -injunction that Mr. and Mrs. Cleve Stuart should preserve, inviolate, -the secret of his relationship to Mike and Judy. - -“Moind ye don’t let on to them,” he repeated. “I am to be inthrodooced -as a frind of your own, claiming, in right of you, the hospitality of -Misther and Misthress Randolph Hay. And I am to have a week or tin days -to observe me childer before they suspect me. That will lave me find -them out as they are widout pritinces. Do ye moind?” - -“Oh, yes,” Stuart would reply, heartily tired, yet half amused at the -man’s persistence. - -“And yerself will not brathe a syllable that will lave them suspict I’m -anything to themselves, Misthress Stuart?” he persevered, turning to -Palma. - -“Not a syllable, O’Melaghlin,” she answered. - -This funny persecution ceased for the time, to be renewed as soon as -they landed at Liverpool, and continued all the way from that city to -York, and from there to Chuxton. - -“Not a hint, not a breath, not a look, to bethray to the childer that -they behold in me the father of them, and a discindint of the ancient -kings of Meath,” he said, as the train drew into the Chuxton station. - -“‘Not a hint, not a breath, not a look’ from us shall betray your -secret, O’Melaghlin,” Cleve assured him. - -“No, indeed,” Palma added. - -“Be the powers, if ye bethray me, I nivir spake to aither of yez again.” - -“There,” said Stuart, as they all rose to leave the train, “there is Mr. -Randolph Hay himself come in the barouche to meet us.” - -“Where?” demanded The O’Melaghlin. - -“There, on the other side of the road. That gentleman in the open -carriage with the fine bays and the footman in russet livery,” replied -Cleve, pointing to the “turnout.” - -“Be the club of Konn! That foine fellow the son-in-law of meself!” - -“Yes, indeed!” - -“The gintleman that married me Judy when she was a nady orphan, and he -didn’t suspict she could be the daughter of a hundred kings?” - -“The very same.” - -“Let me at him!” exclaimed The O’Melaghlin, pushing to the front and -passing through the crowd on the platform to the side of the barouche, -just as Ran got down from his seat to welcome his friends. - -“I’m The O’Melaghlin, Misther Hay. And it’s proud I am to make the -acquaintance of ye. You’re a noble man, that ye are—that ye are. -Wolfscliff is behoind. I could not wait for him to inthrodooce you. But -I’m The O’Melaghlin, and you are Misther Hay!” he exclaimed, seizing the -hand of Ran and shaking it to nearly dislocation. - -Ran was somewhat dismayed, not knowing how to account for this -overwhelming salute that almost deprived him of the power to respond, -and say: - -“I am very happy to meet you, Mr. O’Melaghlin.” - -“Misther?” repeated the chief, prompt to take exception to such a common -title applied to himself. - -But fortunately Stuart came up, shook hands with Ran and then presented -Palma, who was warmly welcomed by her cousin. - -“And now, Wolfscliff, will ye be afther inthrodoocing Misther Hay to -meself?” demanded Ran’s father-in-law. - -“Pardon, I thought you had,” said Stuart. - -“Divil a bit could I do that same to his intilligince,” replied the -other. - -“Then I will have that honor,” laughed Stuart. - -And assuming the courtly dignity of a lord chamberlain at a royal -reception, he bowed to the descendant of Irish kings, and with a wave of -his hand, to indicate the inferior person, said: - -“The O’Melaghlin, of Arghalee, I have the honor to present to you, sir, -Mr. Randolph Hay, of Haymore.” - -Ran bowed very solemnly, conscious now that he stood in the presence of -an “eccentric.” - -“And, sure, meself fales honored in the relationship—I mane the -acquaintanceship,” graciously replied The O’Melaghlin, feeling, however, -that he had almost betrayed himself. - -“Will you take seats in the carriage now? My servants are here with the -break and a van to bring your people and luggage,” said Ran. - -Cleve bowed and handed Palma to a back seat, and The O’Melaghlin to a -place beside her. Then he took a front seat, where Ran joined him, and -the barouche started for Haymore Hall. - -The drive through the beautiful country, now in the glory of early -summer, charmed both Cleve and Palma. - -“It is a boundless Garden of Eden!” exclaimed the latter. - -But beauty and glory in nature was quite lost on The O’Melaghlin, who -employed the time in descanting to his son-in-law upon the ancient -royalty and grandeur of the O’Melaghlins until the carriage turned into -the park gate, where Longman stood to welcome them. - -“There, that was a foine sivin-footer—that retainer of yours, Haymore. -Jist such min me ancestor, Roderick O’Melaghlin, last monarch of Meath, -had for his bodyguard, armed with spears and battle-axes, iviry man of -them,” said the chieftain, as the carriage rolled up the avenue toward -the house. - -When it drew up in front of the Hall, there stood Mike and Judy, the -beautiful young pair, as much alike in their dark loveliness as twin -brother and sister could possibly be. Both in evening dress; Mike in the -conventional black swallowtail and patent leathers, with a sprig of -shamrock in his buttonhole in honor of the visitor. Judy in a dark blue -satin dress, trained, and with low body and short sleeves, showing the -plump neck and round arms, which were now dimly veiled with fine lace -and adorned with the Haymore diamonds in honor of the guests. - -Behind them stood an array of servants. - -“There is your son and daughter, O’Melaghlin,” whispered Palma in the -ear of the chief, as he sat beside her. - -He looked out and saw the beautiful pair, with their lovely faces -lighted up now with the joy of expectancy. - -“What! thim? You don’t mane thim!” he exclaimed, gazing at them. - -“Yes, I do. They are Mike and Judy.” - -“Och! let me at thim—the angels!—the beauties! They are both the imidge -of their mother, me sainted Moira! Let me at thim!” - -And with a bound The O’Melaghlin was out of the barouche and tearing up -the stairs to the presence of his astonished children. - -Forgotten were all his plans of secrecy and covert observation. The -father’s pride and joy in the Irishman’s warm heart overbore all -resolutions, and he fell upon his son and daughter with ravenous -delight. - -“And so ye are me own childer—me Mike and me Judy! And the jewels that -ye are!” he exclaimed. - -But it was Judy he clasped to his breast and covered with kisses. - -“Oh, Mike! Mike! save me!” exclaimed the frightened and distressed -daughter. - -“Will ye be afther kapin’ yer hands to yerself?” exclaimed Mike, who -thought the stranger was a maniac, and tried to separate him from the -terrified victim. But Mike was no match for The O’Melaghlin. - -“Aisy! aisy!” exclaimed the chieftain. “It’s jealous ye are of me -affection for the sister av ye! But your turn will come nixt, me bhoy!” - -Fortunately Ran, to whom Cleve had hastily communicated the now open -secret, came hurrying up the stairs, leaving Stuart and Palma for the -moment in the barouche. - -“Stop! stop! Mike, my lad! The gentleman is your father. Yes, dear Judy, -your father. Do not be afraid of him,” he exclaimed, coming to the -rescue with the explanation. - -“Yis, darlint Judy, it’s the fayther av ye that’s pressin’ ye to this -throbbin’ heart av him! It’s the fayther av ye, me foine Mike, that will -make ye the lawful heir av the oldest name and richest estate in ould -Ireland! Yis, I meant to have kept that same a secret till I had watched -the natures av ye both for a wake or two, but me affections were too -much for me.” - -While he spoke he was kissing Judy, patting Mike on the shoulder or -embracing them both and holding them together to his breast. - -At last, quite overcome by his emotion, he sank down upon the top step -and covered his face with his hands to hide the tears that might have -seemed a reproach to the descendant of the warlike monarchs of Meath. - -Mike and Judy raised him up with tender care and led him into the hall -and thence into the drawing-room, while the old butler, without waiting -orders, went and brought a tray with a decanter of brandy and a glass. - -The O’Melaghlin saw the elixir of life and revived at the sight. - -Meanwhile Ran returned to the barouche to conduct Stuart and Palma to -the house. - -“He made me and my wife swear by all the saints in Christendom that we -would not betray his secret until he himself should give us leave, and -lo! he has blurted it out himself,” laughed Stuart. - -“Yes. He seems a very eccentric person, this unexpected father-in-law of -mine. Yet I like what I have seen of him,” replied Ran. - -“You will like him better. The longer you know him the more you will -esteem him. And if you will consider the eccentricities of his fate and -fortune, you will understand and forgive the eccentricities of his -character,” replied Cleve. - -And then they followed their host into the house and into the -drawing-room, where they found The O’Melaghlin seated on a sofa between -his son and daughter, with his left arm around Judy’s waist, and in his -right hand a wineglass of brandy which he sipped at intervals, while -Mike held the decanter ready to replenish the glass when necessary. - -But as soon as Ran came in with the Stuarts The O’Melaghlin gave the -glass to Judy to hold and went to meet them. - -He seized the hand of Ran, and shaking it again cruelly and almost to -dislocation, exclaimed: - -“Me son-in-law! Me brave, good, thrue bhoy! I have not yet greeted ye, -nor wilcomed ye as me son-in-law! But now I will do it, with the highest -praise mortal man could give ye. I will say: Haymore, sir, ye are worthy -to be the husband of me daughter Judy and the daughter of a thousand -kings.” - -“I thank you, sir. I am sure that is the highest praise you could give -me. I hope it is true,” gallantly replied Ran. - -Servants were at hand to show the guests to their apartments. - -Mike did the honors to his father, and accompanied him to the apartments -prepared for him. - -Judy attended Palma to the beautiful suit of rooms that had been fitted -up for Mr. and Mrs. Stuart and their children. - -There Judy for the first time made acquaintance with Palma’s lovely -children, whom she found already on the nursery cot, asleep and attended -by the faithful Hatty. - -“Why, when did these beauties come? Why have I not seen them before?” -demanded Judy. - -“They came in the second carriage with Hatty and Josias. I would trust -them with those two as confidently as with myself and their father,” -replied Palma. - -“And I was so taken by surprise at the sudden meeting with my father -that I forgot even to inquire after the darlings! I beg your little -pardons!” said Judy, kneeling by the side of the children’s cot and -kissing their sleeping faces. - -At dinner the newly arrived visitors met the Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, -who had been invited to meet them. Jennie—the Countess Dowager of -Engelmeed—being in deep mourning for her husband, did not go out or -receive visitors. - -A week of idleness on the part of all the family followed at Haymore -Hall. - -After that questions of importance were taken up. - -It was decided that The O’Melaghlin, with Mr. and Mrs. Hay and Mr. and -Mrs. Stuart and Mike, should set out on an excursion to Arghalee Castle -and find lodging at Arghalee Arms, and from that vantage point -investigate the ancient ruins and see what could be done toward the -successful restoration of the castle, also open negotiations with the -duke’s legal steward if possible to repurchase all the land that had -once constituted the Arghalee estate. - -All this was happily effected in the course of a few months—for The -O’Melaghlin stopped at nothing in his eager desire to restore the -ancient magnificence and splendor of his house; and so he paid twice the -worth of the land to get it back, and fabulous sums to the antiquaries -and architects to restore the castle and the chapel in all their -pristine strength and glory. - -The Stuarts remained at Haymore until the last of the summer and then -bade affectionate adieus to the Hays and returned to Virginia. - -This was the first of many visits, which the Hays often returned. - -That autumn Mike was entered as Michael O’Melaghlin, master of Arghalee, -in one of the best preparatory colleges in Glasgow. - -That winter, when “Burke’s Landed Gentry” appeared, under the name of -Hay it contained this item: - - Hay, Randolph, born January 1, 185—, succeeded his father March 1, - 187—, married December 2, 187—, Judith, only daughter of Michael, The - O’Melaghlin, Chief of Arghalee, Antrim. - -And the anxious soul of Will Walling, when he received a copy of the -book with the marked passage, was entirely satisfied. - -And New Year’s Day brought Ran and Judy a New Year’s gift, in the form -of a son and heir, which filled the hearts of the parents with bliss. - - - THE END - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - BURT’S SERIES _of_ STANDARD FICTION. - - -RICHELIEU. A tale of France in the reign of King Louis XIII. By G. P. R. -James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, -$1.00. - - In 1829 Mr. James published his first romance, “Richelieu,” and was - recognized at once as one of the masters of the craft. - - In this book he laid the story during those later days of the great - cardinal’s life, when his power was beginning to wane, but while it - was yet sufficiently strong to permit now and then of volcanic - outbursts which overwhelmed foes and carried friends to the topmost - wave of prosperity. One of the most striking portions of the story is - that of Cinq Mar’s conspiracy; the method of conducting criminal - cases, and the political trickery resorted to by royal favorites, - affording a better insight into the statecraft of that day than can be - had even by an exhaustive study of history. It is a powerful romance - of love and diplomacy, and in point of thrilling and absorbing - interest has never been excelled. - - -A COLONIAL FREE-LANCE. A story of American Colonial Times. By Chauncey -C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. -Price, $1.00. - - A book that appeals to Americans as a vivid picture of Revolutionary - scenes. The story is a strong one, a thrilling one. It causes the true - American to flush with excitement, to devour chapter after chapter, - until the eyes smart, and it fairly smokes with patriotism. The love - story is a singularly charming idyl. - - -THE TOWER OF LONDON. A Historical Romance of the Times of Lady Jane Grey -and Mary Tudor. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four -illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00. - - This romance of the “Tower of London” depicts the Tower as palace, - prison and fortress, with many historical associations. The era is the - middle of the sixteenth century. - - The story is divided into two parts, one dealing with Lady Jane Grey, - and the other with Mary Tudor as Queen, introducing other notable - characters of the era. Throughout the story holds the interest of the - reader in the midst of intrigue and conspiracy, extending considerably - over a half a century. - - -IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A Romance of the American Revolution. By -Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - Mr. Hotchkiss has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery, - and true love that thrills from beginning to end, with the spirit of - the Revolution. The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking - a part in the exciting scenes described. His whole story is so - absorbing that you will sit up far into the night to finish it. As a - love romance it is charming. - - -GARTHOWEN. A story of a Welsh Homestead. By Allen Raine. Cloth, 12mo. -with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. - - “This is a little idyl of humble life and enduring love, laid bare - before us, very real and pure, which in its telling shows us some - strong points of Welsh character—the pride, the hasty temper, the - quick dying out of wrath.... We call this a well-written story. - Interesting alike through its romance and its glimpses into another - life than ours. A delightful and clever picture of Welsh village life. - The result is excellent.”—Detroit Free Press. - - -MIFANWY. The story of a Welsh Singer. By Allan Raine. Cloth, 12mo. with -four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. - - “This is a love story, simple, tender and pretty as one would care to - read. The action throughout is brisk and pleasing; the characters, it - is apparent at once, are as true to life as though the author had - known them all personally. Simple in all its situations, the story is - worked up in that touching and quaint strain which never grows - wearisome, no matter how often the lights and shadows of love are - introduced. It rings true, and does not tax the imagination.”—Boston - Herald. - - -DARNLEY. A Romance of the times of Henry VIII. and Cardinal Wolsey. By -G. P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson Davis. -Price, $1.00. - - As a historical romance “Darnley” is a book that can be taken up - pleasurably again and again, for there is about it that subtle charm - which those who are strangers to the works of G. P. R. James have - claimed was only to be imparted by Dumas. - - If there was nothing more about the work to attract especial - attention, the account of the meeting of the kings on the historic - “field of the cloth of gold” would entitle the story to the most - favorable consideration of every reader. - - There is really but little pure romance in this story, for the author - has taken care to imagine love passages only between those whom - history has credited with having entertained the tender passion one - for another, and he succeeds in making such lovers as all the world - must love. - - -WINDSOR CASTLE. A Historical Romance of the Reign of Henry VIII. -Catharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. By Wm. Harrison Ainsworth. Cloth, -12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. Price, $1.00. - - “Windsor Castle” is the story of Henry VIII., Catharine, and Anne - Boleyn. “Bluff King Hal,” although a well-loved monarch, was none too - good a one in many ways. Of all his selfishness and unwarrantable - acts, none was more discreditable than his divorce from Catharine, and - his marriage to the beautiful Anne Boleyn. The King’s love was as - brief as it was vehement. Jane Seymour, waiting maid on the Queen, - attracted him, and Anne Boleyn was forced to the block to make room - for her successor. This romance is one of extreme interest to all - readers. - - -HORSESHOE ROBINSON. A tale of the Tory Ascendency in South Carolina in -1780. By John P. Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. -Watson Davis. Price, $1.00. - - Among the old favorites in the field of what is known as historical - fiction, there are none which appeal to a larger number of Americans - than Horseshoe Robinson, and this because it is the only story which - depicts with fidelity to the facts the heroic efforts of the colonists - in South Carolina to defend their homes against the brutal oppression - of the British under such leaders as Cornwallis and Tarleton. - - The reader is charmed with the story of love which forms the thread of - the tale, and then impressed with the wealth of detail concerning - those times. The picture of the manifold sufferings of the people, is - never overdrawn, but painted faithfully and honestly by one who spared - neither time nor labor in his efforts to present in this charming love - story all that price in blood and tears which the Carolinians paid as - their share in the winning of the republic. - - Take it all in all, “Horseshoe Robinson” is a work which should be - found on every book-shelf, not only because it is a most entertaining - story, but because of the wealth of valuable information concerning - the colonists which it contains. That it has been brought out once - more, well illustrated, is something which will give pleasure to - thousands who have long desired an opportunity to read the story - again, and to the many who have tried vainly in these latter days to - procure a copy that they might read it for the first time. - - -THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND. A story of the Coast of Maine. By Harriet -Beecher Stowe. Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. Price, $1.00. - - Written prior to 1862, “The Pearl of Orr’s Island” is ever new; a book - filled with delicate fancies, such as seemingly array themselves anew - each time one reads them. One sees the “sea like an unbroken mirror - all around the pine-girt, lonely shores of Orr’s Island,” and - straightway comes “the heavy, hollow moan of the surf on the beach, - like the wild angry howl of some savage animal.” - - Who can read of the beginning of that sweet life, named Mara, which - came into this world under the very shadow of the Death angel’s wings, - without having an intense desire to know how the premature bud - blossomed? Again and again one lingers over the descriptions of the - character of that baby boy Moses, who came through the tempest, amid - the angry billows, pillowed on his dead mother’s breast. - - There is no more faithful portrayal of New England life than that - which Mrs. Stowe gives in “The Pearl of Orr’s Island.” - - -THE SPIRIT OF THE BORDER. A Romance of the Early Settlers in the Ohio -Valley. By Zane Grey. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - A book rather out of the ordinary is this “Spirit of the Border.” The - main thread of the story has to do with the work of the Moravian - missionaries in the Ohio Valley. Incidentally the reader is given - details of the frontier life of those hardy pioneers who broke the - wilderness for the planting of this great nation. Chief among these, - as a matter of course, is Lewis Wetzel, one of the most peculiar, and - at the same time the most admirable of all the brave men who spent - their lives battling with the savage foe, that others might dwell in - comparative security. - - Details of the establishment and destruction of the Moravian “Village - of Peace” are given at some length, and with minute description. The - efforts to Christianize the Indians are described as they never have - been before, and the author has depicted the characters of the leaders - of the several Indian tribes with great care, which of itself will be - of interest to the student. - - By no means least among the charms of the story are the vivid - word-pictures of the thrilling adventures, and the intense paintings - of the beauties of nature, as seen in the almost unbroken forests. - - It is the spirit of the frontier which is described, and one can by - it, perhaps, the better understand why men, and women, too, willingly - braved every privation and danger that the westward progress of the - star of empire might be the more certain and rapid. A love story, - simple and tender, runs through the book. - - -CAPTAIN BRAND, OF THE SCHOONER CENTIPEDE. By Lieut. Henry A. Wise, -U.S.N. (Harry Gringo). Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - The re-publication of this story will please those lovers of sea yarns - who delight in so much of the salty flavor of the ocean as can come - through the medium of a printed page, for never has a story of the sea - and those “who go down in ships” been written by one more familiar - with the scenes depicted. - - The one book of this gifted author which is best remembered, and which - will be read with pleasure for many years to come, is “Captain Brand,” - who, as the author states on his title page, was a “pirate of eminence - in the West Indies.” As a sea story pure and simple, “Captain Brand” - has never been excelled, and as a story of piratical life, told - without the usual embellishments of blood and thunder, it has no - equal. - - -NICK OF THE WOODS. A story of the Early Settlers of Kentucky. By Robert -Montgomery Bird. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - This most popular novel and thrilling story of early frontier life in - Kentucky was originally published in the year 1837. The novel, long - out of print, had in its day a phenomenal sale, for its realistic - presentation of Indian and frontier life in the early days of - settlement in the South, narrated in the tale with all the art of a - practiced writer. A very charming love romance runs through the story. - This new and tasteful edition of “Nick of the Woods” will be certain - to make many new admirers for this enchanting story from Dr. Bird’s - clever and versatile pen. - - -GUY FAWKES. A Romance of the Gunpowder Treason. By Wm. Harrison -Ainsworth. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by George Cruikshank. -Price, $1.00. - - The “Gunpowder Plot” was a modest attempt to blow up Parliament, the - King and his Counsellors. James of Scotland, then King of England, was - weak-minded and extravagant. He hit upon the efficient scheme of - extorting money from the people by imposing taxes on the Catholics. In - their natural resentment to this extortion, a handful of bold spirits - concluded to overthrow the government. Finally the plotters were - arrested, and the King put to torture Guy Fawkes and the other - prisoners with royal vigor. A very intense love story runs through the - entire romance. - - -TICONDEROGA: A Story of Early Frontier Life in the Mohawk Valley. By G. -P. R. James. Cloth, 12mo. with four page illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - The setting of the story is decidedly more picturesque than any ever - evolved by Cooper: The frontier of New York State, where dwelt an - English gentleman, driven from his native home by grief over the loss - of his wife, with a son and daughter. Thither, brought by the - exigencies of war, comes an English officer, who is readily recognised - as that Lord Howe who met his death at Ticonderoga. As a most natural - sequence, even amid the hostile demonstrations of both French and - Indians, Lord Howe and the young girl find time to make most - deliciously sweet love, and the son of the recluse has already lost - his heart to the daughter of a great sachem, a dusky maiden whose - warrior-father has surrounded her with all the comforts of a civilized - life. - - The character of Captain Brooks, who voluntarily decides to sacrifice - his own life in order to save the son of the Englishman, is not among - the least of the attractions of this story, which holds the attention - of the reader even to the last page. The tribal laws and folk lore of - the different tribes of Indians known as the “Five Nations,” with - which the story is interspersed, shows that the author gave no small - amount of study to the work in question, and nowhere else is it shown - more plainly than by the skilful manner in which he has interwoven - with his plot the “blood” law, which demands a life for a life, - whether it be that of the murderer or one of his race. - - A more charming story of mingled love and adventure has never been - written than “Ticonderoga.” - - -ROB OF THE BOWL: A Story of the Early Days of Maryland. By John P. -Kennedy. Cloth, 12mo. with four page illustrations by J. Watson Davis. -Price, $1.00. - - It was while he was a member of Congress from Maryland that the noted - statesman wrote this story regarding the early history of his native - State, and while some critics are inclined to consider “Horse Shoe - Robinson” as the best of his works, it is certain that “Rob of the - Bowl” stands at the head of the list as a literary production and an - authentic exposition of the manners and customs during Lord - Baltimore’s rule. The greater portion of the action takes place in St. - Mary’s—the original capital of the State. - - As a series of pictures of early colonial life in Maryland, “Rob of - the Bowl” has no equal, and the book, having been written by one who - had exceptional facilities for gathering material concerning the - individual members of the settlements in and about St. Mary’s, is a - most valuable addition to the history of the State. - - The story is full of splendid action, with a charming love story, and - a plot that never loosens the grip of its interest to its last page. - - -BY BERWEN BANKS. By Allen Raine. - - It is a tender and beautiful romance of the idyllic. A charming - picture of life in a Welsh seaside village. It is something of a - prose-poem, true, tender and graceful. - - -IN DEFIANCE OF THE KING. A romance of the American Revolution. By -Chauncey C. Hotchkiss. Cloth, 12mo. with four illustrations by J. Watson -Davis. Price, $1.00. - - The story opens in the month of April, 1775, with the provincial - troops hurrying to the defense of Lexington and Concord. Mr. Hotchkiss - has etched in burning words a story of Yankee bravery and true love - that thrills from beginning to end with the spirit of the Revolution. - The heart beats quickly, and we feel ourselves taking a part in the - exciting scenes described. You lay the book aside with the feeling - that you have seen a gloriously true picture of the Revolution. His - whole story is so absorbing that you will sit up far into the night to - finish it. As a love romance it is charming. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. P. 235, “Here am” inserted for illegible characters. 7 characters - because capital H and lower m are each nearly 2 characters wide. - Barely visible in original edition and reprint—defective typeface - in original. - 2. P. 302, changed “in Sahara” to “in the Sahara”. - 3. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 4. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 5. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOR WHOSE SAKE? *** - -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™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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