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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration:
+
+CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+POPULAR
+
+LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART
+
+Fifth Series
+
+ESTABLISHED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, 1832
+
+CONDUCTED BY R. CHAMBERS (SECUNDUS)
+
+NO. 147.—VOL. III.      SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1886.      PRICE 1½_d._]
+
+
+
+
+THE MAORIS’ FIGHT FOR LIFE.
+
+BY A NEW ZEALANDER.
+
+
+An absorbing struggle is going on in New Zealand at present—a struggle
+of life and death to a gallant and interesting people. The Maoris are
+apparently making a last stand for existence. Like all savage peoples,
+they have hitherto been ‘melting away’ at the approach of the whites,
+until now it is believed they number barely forty thousand throughout
+the entire colony; whereas in 1835, before English colonisation had
+commenced in earnest, careful observers estimated that nearly two
+hundred thousand natives ranged the woods and navigated the rivers and
+seas of the colony. Captain Cook, probably less accurately, placed his
+estimate at four hundred thousand. Certain it is that from the time we
+have first known them, the Maoris, like the Kanakas of the South Sea
+Islands and the Red Indians of North America, have gone on steadily
+and even rapidly diminishing in numbers. Just now there is reason to
+hope that this process of extinction has received a check, and the race
+seems gathering together all its energies to make one last struggle for
+existence. Will it be successful?
+
+In the first place, let us glance at the causes leading to the
+extinction of the aboriginals of New Zealand. These have been very ably
+set forth in a paper read before the Wellington Philosophical Society
+by Dr Newman, President of the Society. This gentleman is of opinion
+that the Maoris were a disappearing race before the English came to
+New Zealand. One of the principal causes is the natural sterility of
+the people. While the birth-rate among the European inhabitants of
+New Zealand is the highest in the world, and while the prolificness
+of animal life generally in this fertile land is a matter of constant
+wonder to the naturalist, a birth in a Maori family is, as a rule, of
+less frequent occurrence than a death; and the absence of children in
+the native villages is absolutely startling to those who have just
+seen the troops of rosy-cheeked youngsters that swarm in the European
+towns. There are various causes for this unfruitfulness of the race;
+but the principal source assigned by the writer I have quoted is
+intermarrying, the Maoris being nearly always married either in their
+own or some nearly adjacent tribe. The rate of mortality, also, is
+considerably higher among Maoris than with Europeans, consumption
+being responsible for the greatest ravages in their ranks. The Maoris,
+who formerly lived in lofty, well-aired, and well-drained hill-forts,
+now dwell on the oozy soil of the valleys, where the air is stagnant
+and moisture-laden, while their _whares_ or huts are close and
+unventilated—forming, in fact, hotbeds of lung disease and rheumatism.
+
+Dr Ginders, the medical officer at the government sanatorium at
+Rotorua, which is situated in the middle of a large native district,
+gives, in a Report recently presented to parliament, a graphic and at
+the same time horrifying account of ‘How the Maoris live.’ Referring to
+their sleeping-huts, he says: ‘Being curious to know something of these
+hotbeds of disease, I entered one at seven A.M. before the occupants
+had turned out. I have no wish to repeat the experience. This was quite
+a small family affair, fifteen feet long by ten feet wide. It contained
+twenty individuals of both sexes and all ages, who had spent the
+night—say ten hours—in it. The cubic air-space per head was about such
+as would be afforded by a comfortable full-sized coffin. How they can
+exist under such circumstances is one of the mysteries of Maori nature.
+Fortunately for them, these sleeping-places are built of pervious
+material, through which the outer air must filter, and all the more
+rapidly from the fact of the great difference of temperature between
+the external and internal air.’
+
+After reading this extract, most people will be inclined to say that it
+is not necessary to look any further for the cause of the gradual dying
+out of the Maoris. It is some satisfaction to reflect that the imported
+diseases and vices are playing only a minor part in decimating the
+race. Of the diseases introduced by Europeans, typhoid and measles seem
+to have been the most destructive, especially the former. The only
+imported vice, according to Dr Newman, that has in the least degree
+helped to hasten the disappearance of the race is drunkenness. The
+mortality among children, from the neglect or ignorance of parents and
+the insanitary conditions in which they live, is appalling, and until
+something can be done to check it, any hope of preserving the race
+must of course be abandoned. The advent of Europeans has undoubtedly
+brought with it many causes likely to operate unfavourably on their
+dark-skinned brethren. Some of these have already been mentioned, drink
+unquestionably occupying a bad pre-eminence.
+
+There is also no doubt among medical men that a partial adoption
+of European habits and customs, accompanied by a retention of
+various features in their barbarous mode of living, is the cause
+of much sickness and even mortality. Dr Newman points out one very
+characteristic fact: formerly, when the natives entered their _whares_
+with their wet mats on, they flung them aside; now, when they get wet
+in their European clothing, they keep it on, thus laying the foundation
+of many diseases. On the other hand, civilisation has introduced
+undoubted benefits. For example, the Maoris formerly subsisted on
+fern-root and such hard fare, and found that difficult to get at
+times. Now, they have an abundance of wholesome food, and can live in
+comfort on the revenue derived from their lands, if they do not spend
+their money in debauchery. As the result of the labours of the West
+Coast Royal Commission, for instance, every native in the confiscated
+territory in the North Island who has any right to be there, now has
+an interest in some reserve or other which will provide him with a
+settled homestead and the means of maintenance, and in many cases
+a considerable pecuniary income besides. Naturally, in not a few
+instances these material advantages are demoralising to the Maoris,
+who, when able to live in independence and luxury, will not work.
+
+Many of them, however, especially on the east coast and in the
+north, are devoting themselves industriously to such occupations as
+sheep-farming, maize-planting, tobacco-growing, &c. I read, in the
+Reports of the native officers, that one tribe started farming with a
+flock of four thousand sheep, and divided the year’s profits, which
+actually amounted to seven hundred pounds. Another party of natives
+did better still at whale-fishing, securing spoil from the deep to the
+extent of two thousand six hundred pounds.
+
+Among all the elevating influences brought to bear upon the Maoris,
+the means of education appears to be the most promising; and if they
+succeed in avoiding the fate of extinction, to which so many savage
+tribes seem doomed when brought in contact with a higher civilisation,
+education will be the chief agent in bringing about the happy result.
+With the advance of education, it may reasonably be hoped that the
+Maoris—who are naturally a very receptive people—may be brought to see
+the evils of consanguineous marriages, to adopt more rational sanitary
+measures both as regards their children and themselves. At present,
+they have very erroneous and mischievous ideas of disease. When an
+epidemic of typhoid fever broke out among some of them recently, they
+were utterly regardless of the danger of infection, and ridiculed the
+idea of taking any precautionary measures to prevent the spread of the
+disease, saying it was not fever, but simply a Maori complaint brought
+on by _makutu_ or witchcraft. When a native is attacked by illness, he
+frequently succumbs through sheer fright. It may easily be imagined how
+these facts increase the mortality of the race, and what improvement
+may be effected in these respects by the advancement of education.
+
+It is satisfactory to note that the government are alive to the
+importance of the subject. According to a recent official Return, it
+appears that there were sixty-nine native schools in full working
+order, and over two thousand Maori children receiving the elements of
+a good English education. The great advantage of these schools, it
+has been very well pointed out, is not so much that the young people
+learn to speak the English language, but that they learn to appreciate
+our customs, to value time, and to gain a desire for improvement,
+both mental and social, which, doubtless, they will transmit to their
+descendants, who will then become fitted to hold a fair position in
+the future. The natives generally appear to be alive to these facts,
+and not only send their children to the schools, but give sites for
+school-buildings, and show their interest in the movement in other
+ways. They elect their School Committees in the same way that the
+Europeans do, and on the whole do the work very well.
+
+The Blue Ribbon movement appears to have taken a singularly firm hold
+among the race. The so-called ‘king’ himself donned the badge with
+great ceremony at the solicitation of Sir George Grey, before leaving
+for England in 1884; and in every village are to be seen numbers of
+the young Maori ‘braves’ wearing the ‘bit of blue’ as among the most
+cherished of their decorations.
+
+The outlook, then, as regards the conflict in which the race is at
+present engaged, is so far satisfactory. The question will, however,
+naturally be asked, whether the beneficial effects of the educative
+process are permanent, or whether, after the Maoris leave school, they
+relapse into their old habits and customs. The savage nature, we know,
+is very apt to reassert itself. Miss Bird tells us how the Ainos of
+Japan educated at Tokiô relapsed into barbarism on returning to their
+own people, retaining nothing but a knowledge of the Japanese language.
+Another writer recounts how an Indian girl, one of the most orderly
+of the pupils at a lady’s school, has been known, on feeling herself
+aggrieved, to withdraw to her room, let down her back hair, paint her
+face, and howl. Something of the sort, it must be confessed, is not
+altogether unknown in New Zealand. I once went to see a Maori _haka_
+or dance, interesting in its way, but not more edifying than native
+dances usually are. To my amazement, I saw among the performers a young
+lady whom I had known as a well-educated Maori girl, living in good
+circumstances, possessing excellent taste in dress, and who had been
+in the habit of taking her place with advantage in European ballrooms.
+On this occasion her costume, although not more _décolletée_ than
+European evening dress frequently is, would have created considerable
+sensation in an English gathering, consisting as it did simply of a
+loose calico gown. A very handsome, well-informed half-caste, one of
+the most lady-like persons I ever met, once confessed to me that she
+could never look on at a Maori _tangi_ or wake without feeling an
+irresistible inclination to rush in and tear her hair and howl like
+the rest. In fact, she admitted that she had to leave such scenes,
+or her emotions might have become too strong for her self-control.
+Again, I shall not soon forget the surprise created, a few years ago,
+when one of the most promising young Maoris in Wellington, who had
+been brought up with Europeans from childhood, who was being educated
+for a barrister, and who promised to be one of the ornaments of the
+profession, suddenly disappeared, and was next heard of as having
+flung off his European clothes and joined the fanatical followers of
+a half-demented Maori prophet known as Te Whiti. No inducements could
+prevail on him to return to civilisation, and he became one of the most
+devoted and credulous of the prophet’s adherents.
+
+These, however, are exceptions, and not the rule. We have Maori
+members both of the Upper and Lower House who are a pattern to some
+other legislators in many respects, and can take their place in any
+European society. We have Maori clergymen both Anglican and Wesleyan
+who appear to make pastors of the most exemplary kind. There is as yet
+no Maori lawyer in practice, but some native lads are being trained in
+solicitors’ offices, and there is every prospect of their naturally
+keen wits enabling them to take a good position in the profession. So
+far as I am aware, they are not ambitious of becoming doctors; and some
+malicious people may be cruel enough to suggest that as regards the
+longevity of the race this is rather an advantage than otherwise.
+
+Some of them are being trained to trades; and it is suggested by the
+organising inspector that every boy, after he has gone through the
+village school course, should, if his parents wish it, be apprenticed
+to some trade by the government, so as to insure his obtaining a proper
+industrial training. With the Maoris grounded in a proper knowledge of
+social and sanitary laws, with their moral and intellectual instincts
+properly guided and cultivated, there seems yet to be a hope that
+the prophecy so often made, that the race must speedily die out, may
+be falsified. This is the opinion of a medical man to whom I have
+already referred. In his Report to the native Minister, Dr Ginders,
+after mentioning the prevalent diseases among the Maoris, says: ‘In
+my opinion, the production, and severity, and the spread of these
+diseases are determined by two main factors: first, the influence of
+the _wharepuni_ (sleeping-hut), and secondly, the consumption of putrid
+food. Compared with these two gigantic evils, alcohol is nowhere. Were
+there no _wharepunis_, I believe the Maori would be a successful rival
+of his European neighbour in sobriety and industry; but with his blood
+vitiated by the foul air of these hotbeds of disease, he has neither
+strength nor inclination to work, and it would be odd, indeed, if he
+had no craving for stimulants. I am inclined to credit the _wharepuni_
+with more than half the infant mortality. Not only is the child injured
+directly by this devitalising influence, but indirectly through the
+mother, whose milk is diminished in quantity and impoverished in
+quality by the same cause. I believe the growing intelligence of the
+rising generation of Maoris has already checked the rapid decadence of
+the race. I believe, too, that these evils will gradually die out, and
+we shall find the native population increasing _pari passu_.’
+
+New Zealand at the present time, it will be seen, has a grand
+opportunity for assisting in the achievement of a civilising feat
+which, if successful, will go very far to confute those pessimists who
+declare that our modern civilisation is a delusion and a snare, utterly
+destructive to the weaker races with whom it is brought in contact.
+
+
+
+
+BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+The first act in the drama was about to be played—the puppets all
+arranged, all acting for themselves, never heeding the hand of fate
+in it. Hector le Gautier triumphant, but troubled occasionally by the
+loss of his device, yet trusting to his own good fortune and matchless
+audacity to pull him through.
+
+The curious in such matters, the idle folks who dream and speculate,
+had food for reflection in their _Times_ next morning, for on the front
+sheet on the second column appeared an announcement. It was vague; but
+one man understood it. It ran:
+
+  MOIDORE.—How reckless of you to throw away a life on the hazard of a
+  die. They are all safe but yours. Where is that? In two months you
+  will have to deliver, and then beware of the wrath of the Crimson
+  Nine. It is not too late yet. Under the clock at C. × at nine—any
+  night. Use the sign, and good will come of it.—EASTERN EAGLE.
+
+The _Times_ containing this announcement lay upon Isodore’s
+breakfast-table in Ventnor Street, Fitzroy Square. As it rested upon
+the table, the words were readable, and Isodore smiled when they
+caught her eye as she entered. She took up an album from a side-table
+and turned over the leaves till she came to the portrait of a pretty
+dark girl of about seventeen. At this she looked long and intently,
+and then turned to scrutinise her features in the glass. There was
+nothing coquettish about this—no suspicion of womanly vanity, but
+rather the air of one who strives to find some likeness. Apparently the
+examination pleased her, for she smiled again—not a pleasant smile,
+this time, but one of certainty, almost cruelty; and a vengeful look
+made the eyes hard for a moment.
+
+She turned to the photograph again, and then once more back to the
+mirror, as if to be absolutely certain of her convictions, that there
+might be no mistake.
+
+While absorbed thus, Valerie le Gautier entered the room and looked at
+Isodore in astonishment. ‘You have a grand excuse,’ she said archly,
+‘though I did not know that vanity was one of your failings, Isodore.’
+
+Isodore blushed never so faintly, not so much by being taken in the
+little act, as by the appearance of the thing. ‘It is not on any
+account of mine,’ she said; ‘rather, on yours.—Valerie, look here
+carefully and tell me if you know that face.’ She indicated the
+portrait in the album; and her friend looked at it earnestly.
+
+After a few moments she looked up, shaking her head doubtfully. ‘No,’
+she replied. ‘It is a strange face entirely to me.’
+
+‘Then I have altered since that was taken five years ago.’
+
+‘Is it possible that innocent, childish-looking face could have once
+been you?’ Valerie asked in unfeigned astonishment.
+
+‘Indeed, it is. There is nothing like sorrow and hardship to alter the
+expression of features, especially of women. Yes, Valerie, that is what
+I was when I met him. You would not have known me?’
+
+‘No, indeed. They might be two different faces.’
+
+‘So much the better for me—so much the worse for him,’ Isodore observed
+without the slightest tinge of passion in her tones.—‘Read that
+paragraph in the _Times_, and see if you can make anything of it.’
+
+‘It is Greek to me,’ Valerie replied, when she had perused the
+advertisement with a puzzled air.—‘Has it any allusion to my—to Hector?’
+
+‘To your husband? Yes. He will understand it in a moment, and only
+be too eager to regain his insignia. There will be a happy union of
+two loving hearts some night in Charing Cross Station. Little will
+the spectators know of the passions running riot there.’ She laughed
+bitterly as she said these words, and threw the paper upon the table
+again. She was in a strange mood this morning.
+
+‘Then I suppose that C. × means Charing Cross?’ Valerie asked, ‘and
+you expect Hector to come there?—I do not quite comprehend your plan,
+Isodore. It will be dangerous to have another in the secret, and I
+suppose some one will have to meet him.’
+
+‘Some one will,’ was the calm reply. ‘And who, do you think, is
+the proper one to do that? Who better than his old friend and once
+passionate admirer, Isodore?’
+
+‘_You_ meet him?’ Valerie cried. ‘How daring! Suppose he should
+recognise you, how then? All your schemes would be thrown to the winds,
+and we should be defeated. It is madness!’
+
+‘You forget I have his badge of membership; besides, I have a duty to
+perform beyond my own feelings in the matter—my duty to the League. But
+he will not recognise me after the lapse of years, and I must get to
+the bottom of his traitorous designs.’
+
+‘You are reckoning upon certainties, Isodore. Suppose you are
+wrong—suppose he is, after all, no traitor, and that your ideas are
+only fancies. How then?’
+
+‘He is a traitor—instinct tells me that. Wait and see what Lucrece has
+to say, when she comes. She is sure to have gleaned some information by
+this time.’
+
+Hot revenge is apt to burn itself out quickly, from its very
+fierceness; but such hate as this never dies. There was a cool
+deliberation in Isodore’s words which struck her hearer with great
+force; and much as she herself had suffered, she could not realise a
+passion such as this. It is probable that had she met her recalcitrant
+husband, a few words would have obtained for him forgiveness; but she
+was under the spell now, and her weaker will was swallowed up in a
+strong one.
+
+‘Do you expect Lucrece this morning?’ Valerie asked.
+
+‘I am expecting her every moment,’ Isodore replied. ‘She promised me to
+come to-day and let me have her report.’
+
+They sat in silence for a few moments, when Lucrece entered. She was
+quietly, almost plainly dressed, and wore an air of extreme meekness.
+
+‘You look the character,’ Isodore said approvingly. ‘You might have
+been a menial all your lifetime.—I am all impatience. Begin!’
+
+‘In the first place,’ Lucrece began without further preamble, ‘I like
+my situation; and as to my new mistress, to know her is to love her.
+You have no idea how gentle and thoughtful she is. Now, to begin
+with her. The dear Hector has a rival, and a powerful one; his name
+is Frederick Maxwell, and he is an artist. From what I can see, they
+are engaged.—Isodore, this Maxwell has joined the League, and will be
+introduced by Salvarini.’
+
+‘Frederick Maxwell! Carlo’s old friend! Poor fool! Le Gautier has tools
+enough.’
+
+‘He is a fine handsome Englishman; honour and honesty stamped in
+every line of his face; just the sort of man to be made useful.—But
+to continue. Le Gautier is _l’ami de la famille_. He has a wonderful
+influence over Sir Geoffrey, and has succeeded in fascinating Enid—and
+she hates him notwithstanding. Isodore, Le Gautier is at his old
+spiritualistic tricks again.’
+
+‘Ah!—Tell me something of Sir Geoffrey.’
+
+‘I am coming to that. Last night, my mistress was out very late, not
+getting home till past one. It has been my habit to wait for her in
+the back dining-room, and last night I was sitting there in the dark,
+dozing. I was awakened by the entrance of Sir Geoffrey. I could see
+his face was ghastly pale, and he kept muttering to himself, and some
+words at intervals I caught. “I wonder if it was jugglery,” I heard him
+say—“if it was some trick of Le Gautier’s?—No; it could not be; and
+yet, if I am to have any peace, I must fulfil the compact—I must join
+this Brotherhood. And Enid, what will she say, when she knows? What
+will Maxwell think of me?—But perhaps Le Gautier is already married.” I
+could not catch any more. What do you think of it?’
+
+Isodore was following the speaker so intently, and so engrossed in her
+thoughts, that she did not reply for a moment. ‘You can help us here,
+Valerie. Tell us what you think.’
+
+‘Lucrece is perfectly right,’ Valerie replied. ‘I have hitherto told
+you that my husband used to dabble in such things; nay, more, as a
+conjurer he was probably without a rival. He made a great reputation at
+Rome before the thing exploded; and indeed, to a weak mind, some of the
+séances were awe-inspiring.’
+
+‘It seems to me,’ Isodore put in reflectively, ‘that Le Gautier has
+worked upon Sir Geoffrey’s superstitious fears till he has him bound
+fast enough. And you say he is to join the Brotherhood. Really, I begin
+to feel an admiration for the man I am pledged to destroy. It is clear
+that he has promised his daughter to Le Gautier. Is she weak?’
+
+‘On the contrary, though she is gentle and tractable, there is much
+determination of purpose underlying her gentleness.’
+
+‘You have done wonders in this short time, my sister. But do not relax
+your vigilance now; let nothing escape you that may be of use to us.’
+
+‘I must return,’ Lucrece explained, looking at her watch, ‘or I shall
+be missed. I will not fail to bring you such information as falls in my
+way from time to time.’
+
+After she was gone, the women sat quietly for a time, each pondering
+over what they had heard. The information was not much; but it sufficed
+to show them in what way the influence over the weak baronet had been
+obtained, and every detail of Le Gautier’s movement might be of use. A
+wild plan formed itself in Isodore’s busy brain, as she sat thinking
+there. ‘Why should it not be?’ she thought.
+
+‘Do you think it would be possible for any one to love me?’ she asked.
+
+Valerie looked into the beautiful face and smiled. ‘How otherwise?’
+
+‘Then it shall be so. Valerie, I am going to make Hector le Gautier
+love me as he never loved woman before!’
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+Hector le Gautier, all unconscious of the plot against his safety and
+peace of mind, sat over his breakfast the same morning. He was on
+remarkably good terms with himself, for all his plans were prospering,
+and for him the present outlook was a rosy one. His plans were well
+laid. He intended to keep his present position in the League, to go
+to Warsaw if necessary; and now that he had Sir Geoffrey in his hands
+beyond all hope of extrication, it was easy enough to send Maxwell upon
+some dangerous foreign mission, where, if he escaped with his life, he
+would henceforth be an outlaw and a fugitive. Sir Geoffrey, too, had
+bound himself to join; and with this lever, he could work upon Enid’s
+fears to perfection.
+
+He was in no hurry; he was far too consummate a rogue, too accomplished
+a schemer, to ruin the delicate combination by any premature move,
+preferring for the present to renew his forces and calculate his
+advance, as a chess-player might when he knows the game is in his
+hands. Then should come the crowning act, by which he should rid
+himself of the irksome chains which bound him to the League. All his
+plans were prepared for delivering the leaders into the hands of
+justice, always with a care to his own escape. As he turned these
+things over in his mind, he whistled a little air gaily, resumed his
+breakfast, and opened the broadsheet of the _Times_ to see the news of
+the day.
+
+Fortune seemed to be smiling upon him, he thought, as he read the
+mystic announcement in the second outside column. Here was the thing
+which had caused him so much anxious thought as good as delivered again
+into his hands. Some friend, perhaps, had discovered his loss, and had
+determined to return it thus. Perhaps—and here he showed his white
+teeth in a dazzling smile—some fair one, who had taken this way to show
+her admiration; for Le Gautier was, like most vain men, a great admirer
+of the sex, and fully impressed with the all-conquering fascination of
+his manner. He was not the first clever man who has held such opinions,
+and found, when too late, the fatal error of underrating the power of
+an injured woman.
+
+He perfectly understood the advertisement. It was not the first time
+that newspapers had been employed to do work for the League; nor did he
+hesitate to avail himself of this golden opportunity. He had scarcely
+finished his breakfast and made up his mind to meet the mysterious
+Eastern Eagle, when Salvarini entered. He was moody and preoccupied,
+with a sombre frown upon his face, telling of much inward uneasiness.
+
+‘I do not like these new arrangements,’ he commenced abruptly, in
+answer to Le Gautier’s florid greeting. ‘There is great danger in them,
+and they cannot lead to any good results. I shall oppose them.’
+
+‘Pray, explain yourself, my good Luigi; I am in Cimmerian darkness,’
+Le Gautier replied carelessly. ‘You are so dreadfully in earnest;
+absolutely, you view life through the gloomy spectacles of the League.’
+
+‘It is folly, madness!’ Salvarini replied passionately. ‘Heaven knows,
+we have had bloodshed enough. What do you think the last proposal
+is?—Nothing less than the removal of ministers: dynamite is to be the
+agent, and a special mission arranged to Rome. Visci—our dear old
+friend Visci—is doomed!’
+
+‘They must be mad,’ Le Gautier returned calmly. ‘But tell me, Luigi,
+what of Visci?’ he continued, inspired by a sudden thought. ‘I presume
+you have been holding a Council this morning. Visci used to be a friend
+of yours. How do they propose to get rid of him?’
+
+‘The dagger!’ Salvarini answered with great agitation. ‘Visci was once
+a friend of mine, as you say, and yours too, for that. Heaven save me
+from the task!’
+
+‘But why need it be you? We have new members, new blood as yet untried.
+Let them show their mettle now. There is no reason why we should always
+be in the van of battle. But why this sudden determination?’
+
+‘The old story,’ Salvarini continued bitterly—‘private grudges brought
+in; personal ends to be served where all should be of one accord, all
+striving for the good of the cause. I am heartsick and weary of the
+whole affair. Is our path always to be defiled with innocent blood?’
+
+‘So long as I can keep my hands clean, it is nothing to me,’ Le Gautier
+replied with a careless shrug; ‘not that I hold with the present
+system.—But abandon your Cassandra vein, and be yourself for a moment.
+See what you think of that, and congratulate me upon a stroke of
+fortune I have not altogether deserved.’
+
+‘I congratulate you,’ Salvarini grimly replied, when he had perused
+the paragraph. ‘You always contrive to fall upon your feet. Did I not
+tell you that night in the Kursaal you would hear of this again? Of
+course it is a woman. No man would have taken such trouble, especially
+if he happened to be a Brother,’ he concluded with significant emphasis.
+
+Le Gautier drew his fingers airily across his throat, intending by this
+little playful action to allude to his own sudden death. In his petty
+vanity, he was not altogether displeased that his friend should hint at
+a conquest.
+
+‘Undoubtedly from a woman,’ he said. ‘Mark the mystery and romance
+underlying it all. Some fair dame of the Order, perhaps, who has seen
+me only to become a victim to my numberless charms.—Luigi, my friend,
+this little affair promises amusement.’
+
+‘I might have known that,’ Salvarini retorted with some little
+contempt. ‘I believe you could be turned aside from the most pressing
+mission by a glance from a pair of melting eyes.—Bah! your thoughts run
+on such things to the detriment of the Order.’
+
+‘In such a charming situation as you mention, confusion to the
+Order!—Now, do not look so melodramatic! Pardieu! do you think a man
+should have no amusements? Now, as a penance, you shall bore me with
+the order of this morning’s proceedings.’
+
+‘A woman will ruin you eventually.’—Le Gautier smiled; the sententious
+words read the wrong way.—‘We had not much transaction this morning,
+save what I have told you, and the initiation of a few members.’
+
+‘Converts to the noble cause of freedom.—Any one I know?’
+
+‘Several. Do I understand it is your intention to introduce Sir
+Geoffrey in person?’
+
+Le Gautier nodded assent; and the friends proceeded to discuss other
+matters connected with their mission. When Salvarini had left, long and
+earnestly did Le Gautier sit silently there. Then he rose, and taking
+a pack of cards from a drawer, began to cut and shuffle them rapidly.
+He dealt them round six times, bringing the knave of clubs on the same
+heap each time. He put the cards away; an evil smile was on his face.
+
+‘My right hand has not lost its cunning,’ he muttered. ‘Frederick
+Maxwell shall go to Rome, and—— Well, fate will do the rest.’
+
+With this humane remark, he put on his hat, struggled into a pair of
+very tight-fitting gloves, and passed out from Hunter Street into the
+Euston Road; for it is almost needless to say that the house beyond
+Paddington where we last saw him was not his ordinary lodging, his
+abode being a much humbler one, as consisted with his limited means;
+for Hector le Gautier, though moving in good society, and always
+faultlessly attired, was not endowed with that wealth that smooths
+so many paths in this vale of tears. Like other men of his class, he
+contrived to keep his head above water, though how it was done was
+alike a mystery to himself and his friends.
+
+It was past two as he turned into Grosvenor Square and up the broad
+flight of steps which led up to the Charteris’ mansion. He had come
+here with more purposes than one: in the first place, to see Enid—this
+attraction a powerful one; and secondly, to have a talk upon general
+matters with the baronet, and perhaps get an invitation to luncheon.
+Sir Geoffrey he found in the dining-room, just sitting down to his
+mid-day meal in solitary state; and in answer to an invitation to
+join, asked after Enid, who, he learned, had gone with Maxwell and a
+kindly chaperon to a morning-party at Twickenham. He was, however, too
+much a cosmopolitan to allow this to interfere with his appetite, so,
+with a few well-chosen words of regret, he settled himself quietly
+to his lunch, discussing in turn the weather, politics, the last new
+beauty, anything—waiting for his host to speak upon the subject nearest
+his heart. Sir Geoffrey’s patience being by this time exhausted, he
+commenced.
+
+‘I think I am free, Le Gautier,’ he said at length.
+
+The listener affected not to comprehend this enigmatic remark.
+
+‘Free from what, Sir Geoffrey?’ he asked carelessly. ‘Is it gout, or
+headache, or a marvellous escape from dining with a notorious bore?
+Which of these things are you free from?’
+
+‘I was thinking of nothing so worldly,’ was the serious reply. ‘I
+allude to the marvellous manifestations recently vouchsafed to me.
+Since you so kindly showed me through yourself the path of duty, I have
+felt like a different man. They are gone, I trust for ever. Tell me, do
+you think there is any possible chance of their recurring?’
+
+‘So long as you fulfil your part of the contract, certainly not.—But,
+my dear Sir Geoffrey,’ the Frenchman continued gaily, ‘let us have
+no serious conversation now, I beseech you. Let us forget for the
+time we are anything but friends. I am too light and frivolous to
+talk seriously. The last new play, a fresh picture, anything but the
+supernatural.’
+
+Despite this appearance of _bonhomie_, Le Gautier had no intention of
+changing the conversation, though it was not his cue to introduce the
+subject himself; besides, an appearance of good-naturedly yielding to
+the other’s news seemed to tell better, and create a deeper feeling of
+obligation.
+
+‘The longer I put the matter off, the more difficult my task seems
+to be,’ the baronet continued, not without hesitation. ‘Certain
+restrictions were laid upon me, certain commands given, which I am
+bound to carry out. If you had heard the conversation, my task would be
+less difficult; but as you did not, I must do my best to explain.’
+
+Le Gautier drummed with his fingers upon the table, shrugged his
+shoulders, and sighed gently, as a man yielding against his will upon
+the sacred ground of friendship, tempered with politeness.
+
+‘If you have anything to say, it is perhaps better to say it. But if
+it pains you, if it gives you the slightest mental agony or discloses
+family affairs, then, my dear sir, be dumb;’ and the speaker glanced
+out of the window, as if he considered the matter settled.
+
+‘But I must tell you. It is impossible I can fulfil my promises without
+your assistance. In the first place, I am commanded to join your League
+or Brotherhood; and here, you see, I cannot get any further without
+your good advice and countenance.’
+
+‘You distress me,’ Le Gautier replied mournfully. ‘I wish that matter
+could have been settled without such a step being necessary. Our work,
+though a noble one, is attended at times with great hardship and
+danger. Think, my dear Sir Geoffrey—think if there is no middle course
+by which such an action may be avoided.’
+
+The speaker created the impression he was most anxious to make. To the
+baronet, full of his scheme, this advice was unpalatable, the more
+that, like most spoilt, weak-minded men, he was intensely fond of his
+own way. He grew stubborn. Le Gautier was perfectly at ease as he
+studied the other’s face.
+
+‘I see no middle course. The injunction was very strict. I dare not
+disobey, if I would. I must become a member of your League, whatever
+the danger may be; and if called upon, I must take my part in the work.
+Do you not remember the vision?’——
+
+‘You forget my state,’ Le Gautier interrupted softly—‘that during the
+time I heard nothing, comprehended nothing going on around me. My
+faculties for the time being were torpid.’
+
+This adroit interruption only served to increase the baronet’s
+uneasiness. He writhed in his chair, unable to continue.
+
+‘And there is another thing,’ he stammered, ‘which I must tell you,
+though I scarcely know how. I daresay you have noticed my daughter?’
+
+‘Is it possible to see her and not be conscious of her beauties!’ Le
+Gautier cried—‘to be in her presence and not feel the charm of her
+society! Ah! Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued blandly, throwing out a strong
+hint, ‘he will be a happy man who wins the treasure of her heart!’
+
+At this helping of the lame dog over the stile, Sir Geoffrey looked
+grateful. ‘Has she ever impressed you, Le Gautier?’
+
+‘Alas, yes,’ was the melancholy reply, but with some feeling too, for,
+as far as he was concerned, the passion was genuine. ‘Why should I
+strive to conceal my honest love? I may be poor and unknown, but I am
+at least a gentleman, and I offer the greatest compliment man can pay a
+woman—an ardent, loving heart.—But I am rambling; I dream, I rave! That
+I should aspire to an alliance with the House of Charteris!’
+
+The baronet was somewhat moved by this display of manly emotion, and,
+moreover, his pride was tickled. The young man evidently knew that what
+he aspired to was a high honour indeed.
+
+‘But, Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued brokenly, ‘you will not breathe a
+word of this to a soul! In a moment of passion, I have been led to
+divulge the master-passion of my life. Promise me you will forget
+it from this hour;’ and saying these words, he stretched out a hand
+trembling with suppressed emotion to his host and friend. A good actor
+was lost to an admiring world here.
+
+‘But bless me!’ Sir Geoffrey exclaimed, taken aback by this display,
+and, sooth to say, somewhat irritated that the necessary explanation
+must come from him after all, ‘I _want_ you to marry the girl.’
+
+‘Is it possible, or am I dreaming?’ Le Gautier cried in a delirium of
+rapture. ‘Do I hear aright? Oh, say these words again!’
+
+Le Gautier was slightly overdoing the thing now, and Sir Geoffrey knew
+it. ‘I mean what I say,’ he added coldly. ‘You are the man for Enid.’
+
+‘Who is talking about Enid?’ asked a fresh clear voice at that moment,
+as the subject of discourse, accompanied by her escort, glided into the
+room. Le Gautier, in love as he was, thought he had never seen her look
+so fair as she did then, her face slightly tinged with colour, her eyes
+all aglow with pleasurable excitement. For a moment the conspirators
+were abashed, and it took all the Frenchman’s cool equitable nerve to
+solve and explain what appeared to be a truly awkward question.
+
+‘When we are not with the rose, we love to talk of her,’ he replied
+with one of these bold glances for which Maxwell longed to kick him on
+the spot.—‘I trust you have spent a pleasant morning?’
+
+Enid answered as coldly as the dictates of breeding would allow.
+The man’s florid compliments were odious to her, and his presence
+oppressive. Le Gautier, accustomed to read men and faces like open
+books, did not fail to note this.
+
+‘I have important news,’ he whispered to Maxwell, after he had made his
+graceful adieux to Enid and his host. ‘I want to say a few words to
+you, if you happen to be walking my way.’
+
+Maxwell answered with studious politeness. ‘With pleasure,’ he said.
+‘If you will allow me, I will drive you in my cab.’
+
+Enid’s quick ears caught the whisper, and a feeling of approaching evil
+seemed to come over her—a cloud passed over the sun, and, to her fancy,
+for a moment Le Gautier looked like Mephistopheles tempting Faust. As
+the two men passed out, she called Maxwell back. ‘Be careful,’ she
+urged. ‘Beware of that man; he will do you a mischief.’
+
+Maxwell smiled down in the pretty fearful face tenderly. ‘All right,
+little woman,’ he answered carelessly. ‘I shall take care. He is not
+likely to do any harm to me.’
+
+
+
+
+NAPOLEON IN TOR BAY.
+
+
+It is all but impossible to realise the scene of excitement which the
+calm blue waters of Tor Bay, crested with the bright sunshine of the
+summer of 1815, presented, when the Emperor Napoleon arrived on board
+the _Bellerophon_, soon to be transferred to the _Northumberland_,
+in which he was conveyed to St Helena. After the world-earthquake
+Waterloo, when the allies entered Paris, and the French army declared
+for Louis XVIII., Napoleon made his way to Rochefort, where he arrived
+on the 3d of July, and whence his attempts at escape were frustrated by
+the moonlight and the vigilance of the English cruisers. Two frigates
+had been placed at his disposal to facilitate his flight to America,
+and arrangements likewise made with a Danish smack which was to await
+him out at sea; but to reach her under the circumstances was deemed an
+attempt too hazardous. At last, on the 14th of July, Count Las Cases
+and General Allemand came on board the _Bellerophon_, then lying in
+the Basque Roads, with a proposal to Captain Maitland that he should
+receive Napoleon, who desired to proceed to England for the purpose
+of throwing himself upon the generosity of the Prince Regent. Captain
+Maitland clearly explained that it was out of his power to grant
+terms of any sort, and that his instructions only permitted him to
+convey Napoleon and his attendants to England; on which understanding,
+the ex-Emperor, with his baggage, embarked the following morning
+on board a French brig, which conveyed them to the _Bellerophon_,
+where he was received with the honours due to a crowned head. On
+gaining the quarter-deck, the Emperor said in French to the captain:
+‘I am come, sir, to claim the protection of your Prince and of your
+laws.’ In appearance he is described as about five and a half feet in
+height, strongly made, decidedly stout, with a sallow complexion, and
+dark-brown hair, as yet untouched with gray. He wore a green uniform
+coat with epaulets and a red collar, a broad red sash, star on the left
+breast, white waistcoat, boots and pantaloons, and a large cocked hat
+with the tricoloured cockade.
+
+The passage, by reason of adverse winds, was slow, so that it was the
+24th ere the _Bellerophon_ arrived in Tor Bay, when Captain Maitland
+was signalled to stand out three leagues from shore, and there await
+further orders from the Admiralty. It is said that on first beholding
+the Devonshire coast, Napoleon could not conceal his admiration,
+exclaiming: ‘At length here is this beautiful country! How much it
+resembles Porto Ferrajo, in Elba.’
+
+No sooner was it known that the disturber of the peace of Europe,
+against whom they had so long and so sternly striven, was actually
+on board ship at anchor in Tor Bay, than from Dartmouth, Paignton,
+Dawlish, Teignmouth, and by-and-by from ports more distant still, the
+country-folk thronged in boats of every size and shape, struggling to
+approach the _Bellerophon_ to catch a glimpse of the fallen Emperor.
+So inconvenient and dangerous was the crowding of these innumerable
+craft with their cargoes of sightseers, that it became necessary to
+order the _Bellerophon’s_ boats to row round the ship to keep them at a
+respectful distance. No fewer than a thousand boats daily put off from
+the shore; and Napoleon exhibited no little pleasure and amusement at
+the interest excited by his presence. From London and all parts of the
+country, people flocked down to Tor Bay during the time necessarily
+occupied in determining Napoleon’s final destination, well pleased if
+they succeeded in catching an occasional glimpse of him as he walked
+backwards and forwards in the stern gallery with his hands behind him,
+or surveyed through an opera glass the varied texture of the crowd in
+the vessels below. As he paced the quarter-deck in conversation with
+one or other of his followers, he would frequently approach the ship’s
+side and acknowledge the salutations of his visitors. Two or three
+French ladies, wives of members of the suite, dressed in the height
+of the prevailing fashion, were frequently seated on deck, with whom,
+as he paused in his walk and stooped to look through the ports at the
+vessels alongside, Napoleon would now and again exchange a word. At
+six o’clock the dinner-bell rang, when the Emperor with his attendants
+went below, the sailors with great good-humour putting out a board
+on which was chalked, ‘He’s gone to dine.’ He usually remained about
+half an hour, when another board announced his reappearance on deck. It
+was about the 1st of August when his ultimate destination became known
+to him through the newspapers, and he was shortly afterwards observed
+at the cabin window tearing up papers, which he threw into the sea.
+Fragments of some of these, being seized upon as relics, turned out
+to be translations of speeches in the last session of parliament, and
+a letter addressed to the Empress Maria Louisa immediately after his
+abdication.
+
+But of all the incidents which occurred while Napoleon was in Tor
+Bay, the most remarkable was a farewell visit paid him by a lady of
+foreign appearance and surpassing loveliness. Cloaked and veiled,
+to escape observation, she carried with her a bouquet of choicest
+flowers, peculiarly arranged in rows, which, when her boat arrived
+at a convenient distance from the _Bellerophon_, was despatched in
+charge of her servant. As the token of unchanged affection reached
+the quarter-deck, the lady was observed to raise her veil, disclosing
+features of exceeding beauty. At first, the bouquet seemed to awaken
+no memories in Napoleon’s breast, but after a moment, he hastily
+approached the ship’s side, and steadfastly gazing awhile on the fair
+form disclosed to view, he waved a last farewell.
+
+On Wednesday the 2d of August, the _Bellerophon_ and _Tonnant_ sailed
+for Plymouth, where it had been intended that the transfer to the
+_Northumberland_ should be carried out. But in consequence of the loss
+of life which occurred from the vast concourse of boats in the Sound,
+as well as to avoid a writ of habeas corpus, under which it was desired
+to obtain the evidence of Napoleon in a case at the time pending in the
+Queen’s Bench, it was deemed advisable to return to Tor Bay, where,
+on Sunday the 6th of August, the three vessels (the _Northumberland_
+having meantime come round from Portsmouth) cast anchor. No sooner
+were the ships brought up, than Sir Henry Bunbury, accompanied by Mr
+Bathurst, proceeded on board the _Bellerophon_, and announced to the
+ex-Emperor the resolution of the cabinet, that he should be transported
+to St Helena, accompanied by four of his friends and twelve servants.
+The information was received without surprise; but in a speech of
+three-quarters of an hour’s duration, delivered in a manner the most
+impressive, Napoleon protested against the determination which had been
+arrived at.
+
+The same afternoon, Lord Keith and Sir George Cockburn proceeded in
+the admiral’s yacht to the _Bellerophon_. Napoleon was on deck to
+receive them. After the usual salutations, Lord Keith addressed himself
+to Bonaparte, and acquainted him with his intended transfer to the
+_Northumberland_ for passage to St Helena. After much expostulation,
+Napoleon finally refused to go; but upon Lord Keith expressing the
+hope that no coercion would be necessary to carry out the orders of
+government, he replied: ‘O no, no! you command, I must obey! Only,
+recollect, I do not go of my own free-will.’ He then formally handed to
+Lord Keith a written protest against his transportation to St Helena,
+in which it was contended, that having come voluntarily on board
+the _Bellerophon_, he was the guest and not the prisoner of England.
+‘I appeal,’ he concluded, ‘to history, whether an enemy who comes
+deliberately in his misfortunes to seek an asylum under the protection
+of English law, can give a more convincing proof of his esteem and
+confidence. But how have the English answered such confidence and
+magnanimity; they pretended to extend a friendly hand to this enemy;
+and when he relied on their good faith, they sacrificed him.’
+
+It was afterwards arranged that the transfer should take place the
+following morning (Monday) about eleven o’clock. Early next day, Sir
+George Cockburn superintended the inspection of the baggage, consisting
+of services and toilet sets of plate, several articles in gold, books,
+beds, &c., which were sent on board the _Northumberland_, four thousand
+gold napoleons being sealed up and detained. The baggage having been
+removed, the parting scene commenced, Napoleon handing to several of
+his officers a certificate of fidelity and good service. About eleven
+o’clock, the barge of the _Tonnant_ proceeded to the _Bellerophon_ to
+receive the fallen Emperor and those who were to be the partakers of
+his exile: General and Madame Bertrand with their children, Count and
+Countess Montholon and child, Count Las Cases, General Gourgaud, nine
+men and three women servants. At the last moment, Napoleon’s surgeon
+refused to accompany him, whereupon the surgeon of the _Bellerophon_,
+Mr O’Meara, consented to supply his place. Shortly afterwards O’Meara
+was offered a salary of five hundred pounds per annum, but this he
+rejected, with the remark that the pay of his king was sufficient to
+satisfy him.
+
+Before entering the barge which was to convey him to the
+_Northumberland_, Bonaparte addressed himself to Captain Maitland and
+the officers of the _Bellerophon_, not forgetting to take off his hat
+to them again after descending the ladder into the barge. It was about
+noon on the 7th of August when the barge of the _Tonnant_ approached
+the starboard side of the _Northumberland_. Bertrand was the first to
+go over the side, and standing with his hat off, upright as a sentinel,
+announced his master. Napoleon instantly followed, and taking off his
+hat, remarked to Sir George Cockburn, who received him: ‘Monsieur, je
+suis à vos ordres.’ At once moving forward on the quarter-deck, he
+desired to be introduced to Captain Ross, who commanded the ship, a
+ceremony which was immediately performed, the guard of marines, drawn
+up on the port side, receiving the ex-Emperor with the compliment due
+to his rank as a general officer. To Lord Lowther and Mr Lyttleton,
+who stood near the admiral, Napoleon bowed and spoke a few words,
+remarking also to an artillery officer who was by, that he himself
+had originally served in that arm. The introduction to the eight
+lieutenants of the ship, not one of whom could speak a single word of
+French, was sufficiently ridiculous; they were drawn up in line on
+one side of the cabin; and after gazing and smiling for a moment on
+Napoleon, who, in his turn, gazed and smiled at them, they bowed and
+defiled before him out of the cabin door. The after-cabin on board the
+_Northumberland_ was not, as on the _Bellerophon_, the private room
+wherein Napoleon was not to be intruded upon by any unbidden guest, but
+was shared equally by the admiral and his friends; a small cabin being
+besides appropriated for the sole accommodation of the ex-Emperor,
+and elegantly furnished, the toilet being of silver, and the bed
+linen of exquisite fineness. The party were also permitted to supply
+themselves from shore with any articles they might desire wherewith
+to add to their comfort and amusement, a permission of which they
+availed themselves by purchasing a billiard-table, an immense supply of
+playing-cards, chessmen, &c., besides a number of the best books in the
+English language.
+
+After waiting for the _Weymouth_ storeship and some other vessels
+destined to complete the miniature squadron, the whole finally sailed
+out of Tor Bay on Friday the 11th of August; and Napoleon passed away
+from the shores of Europe to end his days in exile on a solitary rock
+in the Atlantic.
+
+
+
+
+GEORGE HANNAY’S LOVE AFFAIR.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.—DISENCHANTMENT.
+
+Fortune seemed to smile on Alfred’s London enterprise. He called
+personally on the editors of several of the society magazines and
+journals. ‘A Summer Ramble in Kirkcudbright’ was now in all the glory
+of print; and when he assured the editors that he was really the
+‘Ariel’ who penned the sketch, he found them willing, nay, anxious
+to look over the manuscripts he left with them. The letter from the
+_Olympic_ accepting the manuscript and inclosing so handsome an
+honorarium was of great help to him. Mr Hannay had a reputation for
+‘discovering’ talent, and his protégés hardly ever failed in taking
+some rank in the profession. He got four or five accepted at fairly
+remunerative prices. Then he was proposed at a minor literary club, and
+passed the ballot. As a new contributor to the _Olympic_, he ranked
+well there among his brother scribes, who looked on him as a rising
+man, and one whose good opinion was worth courting. These new friends
+indeed treated him with great cordiality, and made him as one of
+themselves; some even going the length of borrowing from him small sums
+of money.
+
+Nor was this all. One of the members, the sub-editor of a Sunday paper,
+volunteered to introduce him to London ‘society.’ Behold our friend,
+then, at a grand reception at Mrs Judson’s. This lady was the widow of
+a wealthy London pawnbroker (financial agent she preferred the lost one
+to be called). Her sole ambition in life was to secure a following of
+literary ‘stars,’ even if they were of infinitesimal magnitude; and in
+her circle, ‘Ariel’ appeared as one of the first. His handsome figure
+and genial manners constituted him a great favourite with the ladies;
+and his presence was eagerly sought for at all these little reunions
+which compose the ‘fringe’ of London literary and artistic society.
+He found this kind of life both pleasant and profitable; for he was
+brought in contact with many editors and proprietors of third and
+fourth rate periodicals, and was able to dispose of half his rejected
+manuscripts among them, with fairly satisfactory pecuniary results to
+himself.
+
+His banker now held one or two hundred pounds to his credit, and he
+began to look upon the success of his literary venture as _un fait
+accompli_. There was just one little thing that annoyed him: his newly
+found literary friends were extremely solicitous to know when his
+further productions would appear in the _Olympic_. This was a poser,
+for he had not the least idea himself. He got out of the difficulty,
+however, by saying that the principal editor being on the continent,
+there would be nothing definitely arranged until his return. As will be
+remembered, Nan’s restrictions did not prevent him from contributing
+to the _Olympic_ in his own name; so, immediately after his arrival
+in London, he set to work and wrote a sketch called ‘Student Life in
+Brussels.’ The manuscript was duly sent, and duly returned in a few
+days with a printed note indicating the editor’s regret at being unable
+to make use of the paper. This was discouraging; but then he reflected
+that taste in literary things was very fickle; so he wrote a heavy
+article on Fair Trade, and sent it on; but the result was the same.
+
+About this time, he heard that Mr Hannay had gone to St Petersburg
+with a friend to enjoy the winter festivities of the gay northern
+capital. As he was not expected home for two or three months, Alfred
+had a good excuse till then for the non-appearance of any further
+work of his in the _Olympic_. In the meantime he gave himself up to
+the charming gaieties and pleasant little dissipations of the circle
+that had made quite a lion of him. He rather liked the homage these
+people paid him; true, they were mentally his inferiors, he thought;
+but then they had money, position, and influence, and might be made
+useful to him in the future. He began to think—sometimes with a feeling
+bordering on regret—of his engagement to the innkeeper’s daughter. How
+much better he could do now, if he were free! However, he would be
+true to his engagement. Only, Nan must be reasonable, and wait; at the
+end of two or three years, when his name was famous and his position
+thoroughly assured, he would marry her. To do so now would be extremely
+prejudicial to his interests, and must not be thought of for a moment.
+O no; she must wait patiently till it suited his convenience; and
+wouldn’t she gladly do so? Of course, for wasn’t the girl madly in love
+with him?
+
+And what about Nan? Well, things were going on in their usual jog-trot
+course at Lochenbreck. The winter was their dull season, and she had
+plenty of time at her disposal, which she employed in sewing, reading,
+practising her music, and occasionally taking part in the quiet social
+gatherings of her country neighbours. She was, of course, delighted to
+hear of her lover’s success in London. ‘Well, after all,’ she thought,
+‘he seems to have known best.’ Then she thought smilingly of the time
+when he would be coming to claim the fulfilment of her promise; and
+she hoped she could induce him to spend part of the year at least at
+Lochenbreck. The parting with her father was the only drawback in her
+fair future; and she hoped this might be partially at least averted.
+She sometimes thought of her old and trusted friend the editor, and
+a shadow would come over her countenance for a moment. It passed
+quickly away, however, for she never thought but that he had long since
+forgotten her, amid the gaieties of the continent and his literary
+pursuits; for though far from London, he still held the editorial reins
+and wrote his usual articles for the _Olympic_.
+
+This pleasant, tranquil state of matters lasted for some weeks. Her
+lover still corresponded regularly with her; but his letters began to
+get shorter, and were, perhaps, not quite so profuse and warm in their
+amatory expressions. Then after a bit they came more irregularly and
+seldomer. Still Nan paid no heed to what another maiden might have
+taken as indications of their lover’s failing allegiance. Hers was
+a happy, contented disposition, with no morbid desire to conjure up
+possible future evils. She loved Alfred sincerely, and with all the
+warmth and fervour of a girl’s first love. That he had failings, her
+strong, keen sense showed her plainly enough; but then he was only a
+fallible mortal like herself and other people. She was not blind to the
+vanity he displayed in writing to her about his social triumphs. If
+there was anything that troubled her, it was the frequent references he
+made to Mrs Judson. She resented the control which this woman seemed
+to have acquired over her lover’s doings. True, the widow was almost
+old enough to be his mother, and had been very kind to him; but a man
+should have a mind of his own, and hold his future in his own hands; if
+he did consult with any one, it should be with her who was soon to be
+his wife.
+
+Things went on in this fashion for some time longer, and Nan began
+to feel a vague, chilling feeling in her heart that all was not as
+it should be between Alfred and herself. She was scarcely prepared,
+however, for a letter she received from him one morning after a
+longer silence than usual. It was dated from a Sir Hew Crayton’s
+shooting-lodge down in Essex. The high-born though impecunious—and, if
+the truth must be told, rather disreputable—baronet had been a client
+of the late Mr Judson, and was heavily indebted to his widow. He was a
+constant attender at her house, and it was there Alfred had formed his
+acquaintance. Nan smiled when she saw the ostentatious way he dated the
+blazoned note-paper from Crayton Lodge. Before she finished reading,
+however, her eyebrows became knit, and an angry frown settled on her
+whilom smiling visage. The letter commenced by saying that as he felt
+rather out of sorts with his protracted course of social enjoyments,
+he had accepted his friend Sir Hew Crayton’s kind invitation to spend
+a few days’ pheasant-shooting with him down in Essex. Then he gave
+a general account of what he had been doing since he last wrote—the
+dinner-parties, balls, routs, conversaziones, and what not he had been
+at; the compliments that had been paid him, and the pleasing prophecies
+of the grand future before him which flattering tongues had whispered
+in his ears. All this she read with an amused smile. But near the end
+she came to a paragraph which ran as follows: ‘Do you know, Nan, I
+have got a splendid chance of making my fortune just now? A young lady
+with twenty thousand pounds in her own right has fallen in love with
+me! I was introduced to her at an afternoon tea at Mrs Judson’s. Of
+course, I made myself agreeable enough, but I never thought she would
+have taken my little civilities so seriously. Yet she did so. Mrs
+Judson gave me a plain hint to that effect, and I then had to tell her
+about our engagement, and that such a thing was impossible. She was
+surprised, and advised me strongly to keep the thing secret, as, if it
+were known, it would damage my prospects greatly in society, and even
+in my profession. She has an excellent knowledge of the world, Mrs
+Judson, and has been very kind to me; her idea is, that we should not
+think of getting married for two or three years yet. By that time I
+will be in an assured position, able to marry any one I like, and not
+care a pin what the world says.’
+
+Nan could scarce believe her eyes. Who was this Mrs Judson who had
+thrust herself between them? And did the prospective ‘not caring a
+pin what the world said about marrying her,’ mean that he was afraid
+and ashamed to marry her _now_? The very thought brought the hot
+blood tumultuously to her cheeks. Her impulse was to write breaking
+off the engagement at once; however, when the first burst of natural
+indignation was past, her practical good sense asserted itself, and
+she wrote a short note, requesting him to hasten down to Lochenbreck,
+as something of the most vital importance to them both had to be at
+once decided. This she posted, and awaited her lover’s arrival—with
+impatience certainly—but not of a pleasing kind.
+
+When Alfred got the letter, he was a little startled. Justly enough, he
+attributed it to something he had said in his last epistle to her; and
+in going over its contents in his mind, he had no difficulty in fixing
+on the paragraph just quoted as being the cause of offence. ‘Poor Nan!’
+he thought. ‘A case of jealousy, I suppose—the twenty-thousand-pounds
+young lady. How ridiculous of her! Didn’t I say the thing was
+impossible! However, I must run down and see her. A kiss, a caress, and
+a few soft words, will put her all right. Really, now, I do like Nan;
+and I’ll make things all right for her one of these days. But she must
+have patience: she forgets what a sacrifice I am making, all for her
+sake. To marry an innkeeper’s daughter! when, I may say, I have the
+pick and choice of the eligibles of London society, seems like lunacy.
+Oh, but I’ll be true to her, all the same! But she must learn her
+position; give up any selfish ideas of an early foolish marriage, and
+learn to wait patiently till it suits my convenience and interest.’
+
+He arrived at Lochenbreck railway station by the morning express. The
+wagonette was there to meet him, but no Nan. He jumped in; and whirling
+through the keen frosty air, cracking jokes with the driver the while,
+he arrived in excellent spirits at the little old-fashioned inn. To
+Nan’s great relief, her father had gone to Castle Douglas market;
+she hated ‘scenes’ of any kind and under any circumstances; but she
+thought she could bear the one before her better, if her father was not
+present and was never to hear of it afterwards. After having dinned
+the praises of his prospective son-in-law in his ears for months, how
+could she now turn round and say she had discovered him to be a vain,
+conceited, selfish coxcomb? She had little hope of this interview
+putting matters right between them, and, to be prepared for the worst,
+had collected all his letters—all the little nicknacks he had given
+her—and parcelled them up ready to hand to him.
+
+She submitted gravely and coldly to the customary salute with which he
+greeted her, and led the way to the coffee-room, where breakfast lay
+ready for him. In the occasional presence of the waiting-girl, private
+conversation was impossible; so he rattled on in an agreeable manner
+about his experiences in London, giving brilliant sketches of the
+varied private and public entertainments in which he had participated.
+Nan listened with lady-like composure, putting in an occasional word;
+and when the meal was over they retired to the private parlour. They
+sat down opposite to each other, and then Anne commenced her invective.
+She pointed out that he had deliberately chosen literature as a
+profession, and having gained a slight success, was now idling away his
+time in London, among a set of people who could do him no good, and who
+were, she thought, but of very doubtful reputation.
+
+‘Wrong there, Nan!’ he interrupted. ‘I admit I don’t quite move in
+the inner circle. Still the people I know seem to have plenty of
+money, and are respectable enough; and I find them useful. I meet with
+journalists among them, and have been able to dispose of a good many of
+my manuscripts. And you would notice I was staying for a few days with
+Sir Hew Crayton. Now, you know it does a literary man a deal of good—in
+public estimation—to be taken notice of by a baronet.’
+
+‘I am sorry to hear you talking in that way,’ she replied sadly,
+‘for it shows me your vanity has got the better of your good sense.
+Do you not see it was entirely through your article appearing in the
+_Olympic_ that you got your rejected manuscripts disposed of? As for
+your baronet, I don’t think you need boast of him. He stayed with us
+for a month, four years ago, and left without paying his bill. Papa
+made inquiry about him, and found he made a swindling living by lending
+his name as director to bogus Limited Companies. Likely he would borrow
+money from you?’
+
+Alfred was forced to admit that he had obliged him with a loan.
+
+‘Now, Alfred,’ she continued gravely, ‘I have decidedly made up my mind
+that it would be better for us both that our engagement should come to
+an end. If you continue in the life you are leading, I have no hope
+for your future; but even if you were successful, I could never marry
+you. Doubtless, you would expect me to mix with your new friends; that
+I could never do—if they are like what you describe them—and certain
+unhappiness would be the result. It is well for us both I have come to
+know this in time.’
+
+This was different sort of talk from what he had come to hear. It was
+tears and entreaties for their immediate union which he had expected.
+Still his vanity blinded him to the true import of her words. She had
+said she never could mix with his new friends; well, it was but proper
+modesty for her to say that. He would reassure her on that score, and
+all would be well yet.
+
+‘My dear Nan, I think you are talking a little hastily. No doubt you
+would feel a little awkward among the London ladies at first, but that
+would soon pass away. And Mrs Judson promised me to chaperon you a bit,
+and’——
+
+‘I wish to hear nothing more, sir, about Mrs Judson,’ she answered
+curtly.
+
+‘Well, Nan, she’s a good friend of yours. I told her all about our
+little affair. She said of course it would be a great sacrifice on my
+part; but she applauded my intention of acting honourably towards you,
+even although you were only an innkeeper’s daughter. Of course, it may
+be two or three years before I’——
+
+‘Stop!’ she cried, rising to her feet, her lips quivering and her
+cheeks as pale as death—‘stop, sir! I did not send for you here to
+insult me. Surely I have spoken plainly enough; but your head is so
+stuffed with selfish vanity, you cannot comprehend me. Our engagement
+is at an end. Here are all your letters and presents! You’ll return
+mine when you get to London.—Now, go!’
+
+As she said the last words, she drew herself up to her full height and
+pointed to the door. The action was perhaps a little theatrical; but
+when he looked at her white set face and flashing eyes, he saw plainly
+enough that she was acting no part. He fancied he had never seen her
+looking so handsome before; and he felt a sinking at his heart at the
+thought of having by his foolish letters and talk lost for ever this
+woman.
+
+‘You—you—are—angry just now, Nan. Do take time to’——
+
+‘Go!’ she repeated firmly, her hand still pointing to the door. Her
+face was marble in its inflexibility; he knew his doom was sealed.
+Making a poor show of indifferent self-possession, he rose and quitted
+the room.
+
+When he was fairly gone, Nan broke down entirely. Shutting herself up
+in her bedroom, she made use of the safety-valve provided by nature
+for her sex, and had a thoroughly good cry. Next morning, she was calm
+and self-possessed, although her eyes were red and heavy looking. Her
+cherished idol had crumbled into dust; and it became her, she thought,
+as a prudent damsel to sweep away the smallest trace of it from her
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+LONDON CHARITY ORGANISATION SOCIETY.
+
+
+The Society for Organising Charitable Relief and Repressing Mendicity,
+or, as it is popularly called, the Charity Organisation Society, has
+for its object the scientific supervision of charity dispensation,
+in the deep-rooted conviction that slovenly and indiscriminate
+almsgiving is a most pernicious bane to society, and calculated to
+foster rather than diminish indigence. Personal inquiry is the keynote
+of the Society’s mode of operation. Trained, experienced, and apt
+persons—both honorary and paid—exhaustively investigate all cases of
+indigence brought under the Society’s notice. In each instance, one
+important point is established at the outset of the investigation,
+namely, whether the individual concerned must of necessity—through
+physical or other disability—habitually depend for sustenance upon the
+resources of others, or whether he or she possesses the latent means
+of self-support, which may be brought into action—under the fostering
+influence of personal guidance in moral and material things—after
+the temporary condition of poverty has been met by the judicious
+application of charity. Cases of the former description are relegated
+to the action of the poor-law—therein lying its true function; cases
+of the latter kind are taken in hand by the Society. But its action
+is not that of an individual charitable institution concerned merely
+with the distribution of its own resources. It acts as an intermediary
+between those who need charity and those who are anxious to devote
+money to charitable purposes. Hence, in the discharge of its functions,
+it places itself in connection both with benevolent individuals and
+benevolent bodies, seeking to secure the best relief for the different
+cases of destitution which come under its notice and at the same time
+to prevent ‘overlapping’ in charity dispensation. Where, however, it
+finds that a case of destitution cannot effectively be relieved from
+other sources, the Society brings its own funds into requisition. As to
+its function of ‘repressing mendicity,’ this it discharges by promoting
+the detection and prosecution of impostors.
+
+And now for a word or two about the mechanism, if we may so call
+it, of the Society. The organisation consists of a federation of
+forty district committees—one or more being established in each of
+the poor-law divisions of London—and of a Central Council, at which
+every committee is represented. The committees comprise, where it
+is possible, ministers of religion, guardians of the poor, and
+representatives of the principal local charities. Their function is to
+receive, investigate, and deal, according to the general principles
+of the Society, with all cases of alleged want or distress referred
+to them; and each is intended to form a common meeting-place—a centre
+of information and charitable work—for persons in the district
+desirous of benefiting the poor. The Central Council supervises
+besides endeavouring to strengthen and consolidate the work of the
+district committees, taking into consideration, as well, all questions
+of principle and all matters relating to the general action of the
+Society. Of course the scene of the Society’s main operations is
+the metropolitan poor-law district; but it is glad to give general
+assistance, by sending information to agencies outside that area. We
+may add that the example set by the Society has given birth to many
+foreign and provincial organisations of identical aims and action.
+
+It may be interesting to glance briefly at the broad method of
+investigation pursued by the inquiry officers—be they paid or
+honorary—of the Society. In treating a family, then, the following
+facts are in the first place arrived at: The ages of the parents; the
+amount of their earnings at the time of application and previously;
+the cause of their leaving their last employment; the ages of
+their children; and whether those children go to school (and if
+so, where)—or, if they are employed, what they earn. The previous
+addresses, with the references of the family, are next learned; and
+it is ascertained whether they belong to a club or have relatives who
+ought to assist them. Then inquiry is made as to whether the family
+have any debts hanging over them; what their rent is; how they are
+obtaining a living at the time of application; and, finally, how they
+think they can be thoroughly helped. Subsequently, it is the inquiry
+officer’s duty, among other things, to ascertain for himself the cause
+of the family’s distress, verifying the information they have supplied
+to him; to search out the best mode of helping; to familiarise himself
+with the character of the family, and find on whom, if its natural head
+be weak or incompetent, reliance can be placed to re-establish the
+family fortunes; and, lastly, to settle what means of future thrift and
+self-support can be fostered into life.
+
+Did space permit, we should like to give some characteristic examples
+of instances where the indigent have been raised to a state of
+independence by the well-advised action of the Society, and tell how
+the workhouse itself has been made to yield material with which to work
+so happy a transformation. Some reference, too, would be justified to
+the numerous special questions in connection with which the Society has
+seen cause to take action. But we have said enough perhaps to effect
+our immediate purpose and indicate the nature of the Society and the
+scope of its operations. A considerable literature has grown around the
+Charity Organisation Society, and this is accessible to all who visit
+the central office of the institution, 15 Buckingham Street, Adelphi,
+London, whither all communications to the Secretary, Mr C. L. Loch,
+should be addressed.
+
+
+
+
+THE DENSCHMAN’S HAD.
+
+A LEGEND OF SHETLAND.
+
+
+From Widwick to Hermaness the cliffs rise steep and high from a deep
+ocean, so deep that a large ship might float alongside of the crags
+without danger of scraping her keel. What would be the fate of such
+a vessel, if she were carried by the might of that sea against that
+iron wall, I leave you to imagine. The rocks are broken all along
+their range by fissures and caves, inaccessible from the land, and
+scarcely approachable from the sea. He is a bold voyager who brings
+even a boat to thread the ‘baas’ and ‘stacks’—submerged rocks and
+needle-crags—which guard the way to those haunts of sea-fowl and seals.
+One of the caves is named the Denschman’s Had. I ought to explain that
+a ‘had’ means the den of a wild beast, his stronghold; and ‘Denschman’
+is ‘Dane.’
+
+In old days, Shetland (or Hialtland) was nothing more than a ‘had’ of
+vikinger, those pirates of the North who have so often been confounded
+with the noble sea-kings of Scandinavia; but while the islands belonged
+to Norway, their inhabitants were under powerful protection, and
+suffered little inconvenience from the uses to which the sea-rovers
+turned the sheltered voes and secluded islets. It was only when
+Scottish rule came in that the vikinger of Norway and Denmark turned
+their weapons against their brother-Norsemen of the Shetland Isles.
+During the times of the Stuarts, Scotland had enough to do to look
+after itself, far less to extend protection to an outlying dependency
+that was more plague than profit. Indeed, the Scottish kings and nobles
+seem to have regarded Hialtland as fair game, and robbed and oppressed
+the people after as cruel a method as that of the northern pirates.
+Between the two, those islands had a hot time of it; and the islanders,
+once a prosperous community, sank into poverty and hopeless serfdom.
+
+About the time of Mary Stuart, the isle of Unst was harassed by a noted
+viking whose name and lineage were unknown. He and his daring crew
+were believed to be Danes, and his swift barque—appropriately named
+the _Erne_—and his stalwart person were familiar to the affrighted
+eyes of the islanders. When the Denschman swooped upon the isle, its
+inhabitants fled to the hills and rocks, leaving their homes as spoil
+for the lawless rover. What else could they do? The enemy were strong,
+reckless, brave, well armed and well disciplined. The islanders,
+groaning and disheartened under the yoke of an alien power, were at
+the mercy of might, and could neither resist nor make treaty; so the
+Denschman came and went like the fierce bird of prey whose name his
+vessel bore, and no man dared oppose him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One midsummer evening, a westerly squall arose which sent the
+fishing-boats flying to the shelter of their voes and vicks. Those
+storms rise and fall with tropical rapidity and violence. Six hours
+after it was at its height, the wind had fallen to an ordinary fresh
+breeze, the sky was smiling as before, and only the wrathful surf,
+rolling white and broken under the influence of a changing tide,
+remained to tell of the tempest. All the boats had returned in safety,
+and there should have been rejoicing in Unst; but instead, men frowned
+and women trembled, for the fishers had brought news that the Denschman
+was on the coast: his well-known sail had been seen hovering beyond
+the holms of Gloup; he was coming upon the wings of the westerly wind;
+he would be on the Westing Bicht ere long. There was no landing-place
+available—with such a heavy sea—on that side of the island; but the
+Denschman knew what he was about, doubtless. He would scud to the
+nor’ard, fly round the Flugga skerries and Skau, would lay-to, and
+bide his time till dusk drew down; then he would alight on the eastern
+shore, and work his wild will upon the defenceless isle. Such had been
+his tactics aforetime. The people ran to the high lands of Vaalafiel
+and Patester to mark the Denschman’s course, for where he meant to
+land, _there_ they must not be.
+
+Soon the _Erne_ was descried emerging from a mist of spindrift, and
+bearing swiftly towards Unst, heading straight for the isle, and not—as
+the folk had supposed—skirting the coast. Did the vikinger mean to
+bring their vessel to harbour among those crags, where the sea was in
+such a turmoil? Was the _Erne_ a demon-ship that could dare everything
+and perform such a feat? On he came right before the wind with a
+following tide; but when well in the Westing Bicht, some experienced
+seamen affirmed that there must be something wrong aboard, for the
+_Erne_ did not rise on the waves with its usual buoyancy; he seemed to
+plunge madly forward, as if in fierce conflict with the ocean he had
+ruled so long. By-and-by it was seen that the vessel laboured more and
+more, yet carried full sail, as if on speed depended salvation.
+
+‘I would not say but he’s sprung a leak, or the like,’ said an old
+udaller among the onlookers. ‘Who but a madman would bring a ship
+in-shore like yon, if all was taut aboard!’
+
+‘That is so,’ remarked a seaman. ‘Without doubt, he’s in straits;
+and he’s going to try to beach on the Aire of Widwick. It’s his only
+chance, and a poor one.’
+
+‘Pray the powers he may not make the Aire,’ replied the old man; ‘and
+I’m thinking,’ he added, ‘that the powers will hear us. There is
+something fatal amiss with that evil one. See yon! He’s not obeying his
+helm; he’s just driving with wind and tide. He’s in a mighty strait,
+praise the Lord!’
+
+‘If he misses the Aire, he’ll go in _shallmillens_ [the fragments of
+eggshell] upon the baas of Flübersgerdie,’ said a fisherman, with a
+grim smile; and all cried out: ‘Pray the powers it may be so!’
+
+As if the powers thus invoked were ready to prove their immediate
+willingness to answer the cry of the oppressed, the wind veered more to
+the west, and carried the disabled ship against the holm of Widwick, a
+small islet which lies off the creek, and wards from it the full force
+of the North Atlantic. If the _Erne_ had stranded on the holm, some
+of his crew might have effected a landing there; but that was not the
+end of the viking’s barque; she reeled back from the holm with a gash
+in her side that was a death-wound indeed, and drifted onwards once
+more. Now, would she gain the creek? No! In a few moments the _Erne_
+was carried past the little harbour, where lay the sole chance of
+deliverance, and then crashed among the rocks of Flübersgerdie.
+
+‘Praise to the powers that are above all!’ cried the men of Unst, and
+even gentle-hearted women rejoiced as the Denschman, barque and crew,
+disappeared among the breakers.
+
+The people returned to their homes, happy in the thought that the rocks
+of Fatherland had proved able protectors, and that Unst was for ever
+rid of its most dreaded foe.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Two days and two nights passed. No trace of the storm was left. A
+boat put off from Widwick with the intention of saving such portions
+of the _Erne_ as would certainly be drifting among the skerries near
+Flübersgerdie. The men could tell by the state of the tides and the
+wind exactly where the wreckage was to be found, and they made for
+the spot, never doubting that some spoil would be there to reward
+them. As they approached the submerged reef where the _Erne_ finished
+her career, the skipper, alluding to the dreaded Denschman, said:
+‘Well did he deserve what he met here! Think our isle would give him
+foothold!—our isle, that he has harried this ten year and more! No, no!’
+
+Scarcely were the words spoken, when one of the fishermen called out
+excitedly: ‘Lord be about us, men, what’s yon?’—and he pointed to a
+cave situated in the cliff opposite the reef.
+
+All gazed, and were struck dumb, for, on a ledge within the mouth of
+the helyer (cave) stood a man—the man! the Denschman, alive, stalwart,
+terrible as ever, and brandishing his sword, as if defying mortal to
+molest him.
+
+The boat was instantly backed, and when the islanders had put what
+they considered a safe distance between themselves and their dreaded
+foeman, the men consulted together. Should they make a bold attack?
+The Denschman was alone; they were six in number. Surely, they could
+overpower him, tired and despairing as he must be. Yes. But one, or
+even two of their number were likely to fall before his sword ere he
+could be conquered. Who was patriot enough ‘to lead such dire attack?’
+No one of that crew! Then should they leave him to die of exhaustion,
+as he must ere long? There was no way of escape. The lofty precipice
+overhung the cave, precluding any scheme of climbing upwards; on either
+side, the _aiguille_ crags rose from a seething depth of sea; in front,
+a reef of sunken rocks covered with fretful surf, dared the bravest
+swimmer that ever breasted waves to pass alive.
+
+The Denschman had evidently reached his present refuge by aid of a
+large plank belonging to the _Erne_, which still floated near the cave.
+When they had recovered every vestige of the wreck which floated, he
+could not escape. It was beyond the power of man to leave that cave
+unaided from without. Help must come from ropes lowered from the land
+above, or boats brought to the cave. And who was there in Unst would
+bring rope or boat to aid the Denschman? None!
+
+‘Let him die the death!’ said the men whose homes the viking had
+devastated. So they ventured nearer, and removed every floating spar or
+plank, then returned to Widwick; and it was told in the isle that the
+Denschman had survived his barque and crew only to meet a more terrible
+death. No man pitied him; no man dreamt of giving him succour. Those
+were days when the gentler feelings had little part in men’s warfare,
+and no red cross of healing followed battle ensigns to the field of
+fight.
+
+Next day, a number of boats put off, that men might feast their eyes
+on the dead or dying viking; and many saw him. That day, he was seated
+on the ledge of rock glowering at them; but he made no sign of either
+submission or defiance. ‘He grows weak,’ they said, and wondered that
+even the Denschman’s tough and giant frame had so long withstood the
+exposure and starvation.
+
+A third time the islanders sought the rocks of Flübersgerdie and saw
+the pirate chief as before. Then they began to fear, and to say that he
+must be allied to potent powers of evil; for how, otherwise, could he
+have survived there so long? The interior of the helyer could be seen
+from a little distance: no food or clothing had been saved from the
+wreck to be secreted there. The prisoner was always seen sitting on the
+cold bare ledge where he had been first discovered, and the people were
+satisfied that the cave held no means of sustenance.
+
+Day by day for a whole fortnight boats were guided to Flübersgerdie,
+and men gazed in awe, but did not venture to molest the Denschman, who
+merely returned their stare with haughty glances, and never deigned
+to bespeak their compassion. Dread of the supernatural added its
+paralysing effects to the terror which the viking’s fame had implanted,
+and there was not a man found brave enough to attack the Denschman in
+his ‘had.’
+
+Then heaviness fell on the men’s spirits, for wives and mothers
+upbraided them as cowards; their little ones shrieked and hid their
+faces when it was told that the bugbear of their dreams was making his
+‘had’ in an Unst helyer; and at last, driven by shame and a remnant of
+manly courage, the islanders determined on attacking their enemy. They
+would discover if he were immortal; they would prove if the powers of
+evil were above those of good.
+
+A fleet of boats was got ready, laden with sharp stones, which were
+to be cast at the foe—a safe mode of onslaught! The islanders armed
+themselves with staves and axes. Nets were prepared, in whose toils
+the Denschman should fall if he, by any strange chance, came to close
+quarters. The oldest udaller in the isle ordered his best boat to be
+launched and consecrated, to lead the attack. A day was fixed upon. It
+had been ascertained on the previous evening that the Denschman was
+still in his ‘had,’ alive and strong. No one doubted by that time that
+there he would remain while the island remained, if not ousted by force
+and the help of holy powers; or if not aided by demons to rise and
+blight the isle.
+
+‘Pray,’ said the old udaller to his three fair daughters, who stood
+to see him embark in the consecrated boat—‘pray that I bring the
+Denschman’s dishonoured corpse back with me.’
+
+‘We will pray,’ said the golden-haired maidens.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But what consternation there was on the Aire of Widwick, a few minutes
+later, when it was found that the old man’s boat—the largest and best
+in the isle, the skiff that was to have led the attack—had disappeared!
+She had not sunk into the pellucid water, else she had been easily
+recovered; she had not floated out to sea, for the tide was running
+landwards; yet she had gone as completely as if she had owned feet to
+carry her over earth, or wings to fly through air. To be sure, the boat
+had both feet and wings of a kind, but these were of use on the ocean
+alone. And she was gone—oars and sails too! Doubtless, her flight had
+been on her native element; but some man’s hand must have spread her
+wings or moved her feet. Then who had stolen the udaller’s boat? No
+Hialtlander, be sure! Robbery was never the vice of those islanders;
+moreover, such a theft could have been brought home to a native easily.
+
+One fisherman, more acute than his neighbours, whispered: ‘None but
+the Denschman has done this;’ and with common assent, all echoed: ‘The
+Denschman has done this.’
+
+Boats instantly put off and sped to Flübersgerdie, where confirmation
+of those suspicions was not wanting. The Denschman was no longer in the
+cave. He had been there, hale and terrible, on the previous evening;
+he had vanished that morning, and left no trace behind. ‘It must have
+been the Evil One himself,’ said the folk; and there was gloom in the
+isle, trembling, and much fear, for all expected that ere long the
+Denschman would descend upon Unst, and, fired by revenge, deal worse
+havoc than even that of former days.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But days and weeks went past, and nothing further was known of the
+Denschman or the udaller’s boat, and still the people feared their
+ancient foe and looked for his return. None doubted that he survived.
+The man who could live in unabated vigour through a fortnight without
+food or fire in a dark ocean cave, who could find means of leaving his
+prison, and could spirit away a large boat—such a one was not likely
+to have perished on the sea. Yes, without doubt, the Denschman would
+return to Unst; ‘and heaven help us when he comes!’ said the islanders.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Then it happened one autumn afternoon that a stranger vessel was
+seen, on the Westing Bicht, making tacks for the isle. The people
+had always cause to suspect an unknown sail, and they watched the
+stranger’s approach with some fear. As he drew nearer, it was observed
+that he closely resembled the _Erne_ of old, but carried the white
+flag of peace. The Norland pirates ever scorned to conceal their true
+character, which was never a treacherous one, but flaunted their
+ruthless blood-red colours in the face of day. If a viking hoisted
+the white banner, he meant peace; and so well was this known, and so
+thoroughly could all men trust in the good faith of a viking, that
+the islanders instantly sent off a boat to the vessel, though they
+suspected it was a pirate ship. The stranger had a boat in tow, and
+when the islanders came near, he lay-to and allowed them to come
+alongside of his convoy. What was the fishermen’s astonishment to find
+that the boat was no other than that of the Unst udaller!
+
+Then a stern voice spoke from the ship. ‘Come not nearer,’ it said,
+in a patois half-Danish, half-English, which the Hialtlanders could
+interpret well enough. ‘Come not nearer; but undo the tow-line, and
+take that boat to its owner. It is freighted with goodly gifts for
+the udaller’s three fair daughters, who will know whence those tokens
+come.—And know, ye hinds of Unst, that ye owe your lives and all that
+makes life precious to the golden-haired maidens.—Begone!’ Then the
+speaker—easily recognised as the Denschman—made imperious sign to his
+mariners, who speedily put the vessel on another tack, and before many
+minutes he was running out to sea again.
+
+The islanders towed the laden boat ashore, where a throng was waiting
+their return. Numerous questions were asked, numerous conjectures made.
+The udaller and his daughters were summoned and the precious cargo
+displayed. Table utensils of silver, personal ornaments of gold, silken
+stuffs and snowy linens, rich wines and fruits, and precious grain,
+whatever could please feminine taste, were spread before the wondering
+people, while the three sisters stood mute and blushing, now cowering
+with strange shame, anon glancing with curious pride at all around.
+
+Presently, their old father addressed them in grave and troubled
+tones: ‘Tell us the meaning of this strange _güdic_ [riddle].’
+
+At that, the two younger girls fell on their knees and clasped his
+hands entreatingly, while the eldest sister cried: ‘O father, do not be
+angered, and I will tell ye all. We heard you speak of the Denschman
+in his sore strait with nobody to pity him. It’s true he had dealt
+cruelly by our isle; but—but, O father, it lay heavy on our hearts
+that a man—and such a man, with such a goodly presence and such a bold
+spirit—should die like an otter trapped in a snare; and so, we—we went
+to the rock in the dark hour of nicht, and we lowered a _keschie_
+[basket] to him with food and cordials and clothes—everything to keep
+in life. And then—when we knew that our men meant to stone the poor
+defenceless captive to death, our souls were melted with pity; so we
+took the boat and helped him to escape. _We_ were not afraid of the
+Denschman; and, truth to tell, he can be kind and gentle like other
+men. Or ere he left the isle—all in the mirk hour—he promised that,
+because of what we had done, he would never harry Unst again. No doubt,
+it was wrong of us, father; but then, oh, be mindful that the plight
+he was in could not fail to touch lasses’ hearts. And if good instead
+of harm come of it—nay, _has_ come of it—ye need not trouble yourself
+more, but forgive us, and trust the Denschman to keep his word. He
+will do so. We all know that a viking stands to his promise, whate’er
+betide.’
+
+‘The lass has spoken words of wisdom,’ said a prudent matron, eyeing
+the viking’s royal gifts; and a laughing seaman added: ‘Ay, and what
+would come of us poor men if lasses were not pitiful, and not just
+altogether wise at times!’
+
+So the old udaller forgave his daughters, and—as legend says—‘after
+that Unst was often benefited, and never more harried, by the
+Denschman,’ whose ‘had’ is still pointed out to the inquiring stranger.
+
+
+
+
+AN ELECTRICAL FURNACE.
+
+
+Some of the enormous power which runs waste at the Falls of Niagara
+is about to be utilised at last, and, strangely enough, the first
+work required of the water will be the smelting of refractory ores.
+This new undertaking is to be carried out by the Cowles Electrical
+Furnace Company, the inventors of the process being Messrs Eugene
+H. and Alfred H. Cowles. Their experimental works at Cleveland,
+Ohio, have been so successful, that they were awarded the John Scott
+premium and the Elliot Cresson medal of the Franklin Institute. While
+labouring under various disadvantages, the Company was yet able to
+produce metallic combinations that promise to be of great importance,
+such as aluminium bronze, aluminium silver, aluminium brass, and
+silicon bronze in ingots, castings, wire, and rolled metal. Some of
+these alloys were manufactured into different articles in every-day
+use. They exhibited screws of aluminium brass; knives with blades of
+aluminium silver, and handles of aluminium bronze; together with a
+number of other manufactured articles. Aluminium bronze is stronger
+than steel, is not so liable to rust, and, being elastic and ductile,
+if it can be produced at a cheap enough rate, it should have a great
+future before it. For instance, cycles made of it would be lighter,
+stronger, and more easily kept clean than those made of steel. This
+industry alone should create a large demand. Silicon bronze, also,
+from its electric conductivity, tensile strength, lightness, and
+non-corrosiveness, will be a desirable substitute for iron and copper
+in telegraphy; while aluminium silver—an alloy containing the special
+bronze with nickel—will be serviceable for cutlery and fancy articles.
+Pure aluminium, however, has this great disadvantage, that it tarnishes
+readily, and unless something can be done to remedy the defect, its
+usefulness will be considerably restricted. At the same time, these
+alloys bid fair to supplant steel and other metals in the manufacture
+of light articles where strength and appearance are desirable.
+
+A dynamo larger than any yet constructed is at present being made
+for the Company at Lockport, New York. As already stated, it will be
+driven by water, acting on turbines. The contemplated works will, it
+is estimated, yield about three hundred thousand horse-power, and this
+only represents a fraction of the power that is running to waste at
+Niagara.
+
+
+
+
+WHO KNOWS?
+
+
+    I grant her fair, ay, passing fair,
+      As lovely as a budding rose;
+    But is there soul behind that face,
+    A beauty ’neath that outward grace?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Does light of love beam from those eyes?—
+      The love that in her bosom glows?
+    Or is the light that lingers there
+    Delusive, though it shine so fair?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Does that fair form a fairer charm,
+      A tender, loving heart inclose?
+    A heart whose tendrils, like the vine,
+    Would round the heart that loved it twine?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    And should life’s sky be overcast,
+      And gathering clouds around thee close,
+    Should fortune frown and false friends flee,
+    Would that heart still cling close to thee?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    Or is she, can she ever be,
+      As fickle as the wind that blows,
+    And veers as if it were at play,
+    Trifling with all who own her sway?
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+    But why a prey to doubt remain?
+      Why halt ’twixt hope and fear?—propose.
+    She may be waiting till you dare,
+    To crown with love that beauty rare.
+          Who knows—who knows?
+
+        JOHN NAPIER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Printed and Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, 47 Paternoster Row, LONDON,
+and 339 High Street, EDINBURGH.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_All Rights Reserved._
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text.
+
+Page 676: du to de la—“l’ami de la famille”.]
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***
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+      Chambers’s Journal, October 23, 1886 | Project Gutenberg
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***</div>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_673">{673}</span></p>
+
+<h1>CHAMBERS’S JOURNAL<br>
+OF<br>
+POPULAR<br>
+LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.</h1>
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+
+<a href="#THE_MAORIS_FIGHT_FOR_LIFE">THE MAORIS’ FIGHT FOR LIFE.</a><br>
+<a href="#BY_ORDER_OF_THE_LEAGUE">BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.</a><br>
+<a href="#NAPOLEON_IN_TOR_BAY">NAPOLEON IN TOR BAY.</a><br>
+<a href="#GEORGE_HANNAYS_LOVE_AFFAIR">GEORGE HANNAY’S LOVE AFFAIR.</a><br>
+<a href="#LONDON_CHARITY_ORGANISATION">LONDON CHARITY ORGANISATION SOCIETY.</a><br>
+<a href="#THE_DENSCHMANS_HAD">THE DENSCHMAN’S HAD.</a><br>
+<a href="#AN_ELECTRICAL_FURNACE">AN ELECTRICAL FURNACE.</a><br>
+<a href="#WHO_KNOWS">WHO KNOWS?</a><br>
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<div class="figcenter" id="header" style="max-width: 37.5em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/header.jpg"  alt="Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science,
+and Art. Fifth Series. Established by William and Robert Chambers, 1832. Conducted by R. Chambers (Secundus).">
+</div>
+
+<hr class="full">
+<div class="center">
+<div class="header">
+<p class="floatl"><span class="smcap">No. 147.—Vol. III.</span></p>
+<p class="floatr"><span class="smcap">Price</span> 1½<em>d.</em></p>
+<p class="floatc">SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1886.</p>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+
+<div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MAORIS_FIGHT_FOR_LIFE">THE MAORIS’ FIGHT FOR LIFE.</h2>
+<p class="ph3">BY A NEW ZEALANDER.</p></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">An</span> absorbing struggle is going on in New
+Zealand at present—a struggle of life and death
+to a gallant and interesting people. The Maoris
+are apparently making a last stand for existence.
+Like all savage peoples, they have hitherto
+been ‘melting away’ at the approach of the
+whites, until now it is believed they number
+barely forty thousand throughout the entire
+colony; whereas in 1835, before English colonisation
+had commenced in earnest, careful observers
+estimated that nearly two hundred thousand
+natives ranged the woods and navigated the
+rivers and seas of the colony. Captain Cook,
+probably less accurately, placed his estimate at
+four hundred thousand. Certain it is that from
+the time we have first known them, the Maoris,
+like the Kanakas of the South Sea Islands and
+the Red Indians of North America, have gone
+on steadily and even rapidly diminishing in
+numbers. Just now there is reason to hope that
+this process of extinction has received a check,
+and the race seems gathering together all its
+energies to make one last struggle for existence.
+Will it be successful?</p>
+
+<p>In the first place, let us glance at the causes
+leading to the extinction of the aboriginals of
+New Zealand. These have been very ably set
+forth in a paper read before the Wellington
+Philosophical Society by Dr Newman, President
+of the Society. This gentleman is of opinion that
+the Maoris were a disappearing race before the
+English came to New Zealand. One of the
+principal causes is the natural sterility of the
+people. While the birth-rate among the European
+inhabitants of New Zealand is the highest in the
+world, and while the prolificness of animal life
+generally in this fertile land is a matter of constant
+wonder to the naturalist, a birth in a Maori
+family is, as a rule, of less frequent occurrence
+than a death; and the absence of children in
+the native villages is absolutely startling to those
+who have just seen the troops of rosy-cheeked
+youngsters that swarm in the European towns.
+There are various causes for this unfruitfulness of
+the race; but the principal source assigned by
+the writer I have quoted is intermarrying, the
+Maoris being nearly always married either in
+their own or some nearly adjacent tribe. The
+rate of mortality, also, is considerably higher
+among Maoris than with Europeans, consumption
+being responsible for the greatest ravages
+in their ranks. The Maoris, who formerly lived
+in lofty, well-aired, and well-drained hill-forts,
+now dwell on the oozy soil of the valleys,
+where the air is stagnant and moisture-laden,
+while their <i>whares</i> or huts are close and unventilated—forming,
+in fact, hotbeds of lung disease
+and rheumatism.</p>
+
+<p>Dr Ginders, the medical officer at the government
+sanatorium at Rotorua, which is situated
+in the middle of a large native district, gives,
+in a Report recently presented to parliament, a
+graphic and at the same time horrifying account
+of ‘How the Maoris live.’ Referring to their
+sleeping-huts, he says: ‘Being curious to know
+something of these hotbeds of disease, I entered
+one at seven <span class="allsmcap">A.M.</span> before the occupants had turned
+out. I have no wish to repeat the experience.
+This was quite a small family affair, fifteen feet
+long by ten feet wide. It contained twenty
+individuals of both sexes and all ages, who had
+spent the night—say ten hours—in it. The cubic
+air-space per head was about such as would be
+afforded by a comfortable full-sized coffin. How
+they can exist under such circumstances is one
+of the mysteries of Maori nature. Fortunately
+for them, these sleeping-places are built of
+pervious material, through which the outer air
+must filter, and all the more rapidly from the
+fact of the great difference of temperature between
+the external and internal air.’</p>
+
+<p>After reading this extract, most people will be
+inclined to say that it is not necessary to look
+any further for the cause of the gradual dying
+out of the Maoris. It is some satisfaction to
+reflect that the imported diseases and vices are
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_674">{674}</span>playing only a minor part in decimating the race.
+Of the diseases introduced by Europeans, typhoid
+and measles seem to have been the most destructive,
+especially the former. The only imported
+vice, according to Dr Newman, that has in the
+least degree helped to hasten the disappearance of
+the race is drunkenness. The mortality among
+children, from the neglect or ignorance of parents
+and the insanitary conditions in which they live,
+is appalling, and until something can be done to
+check it, any hope of preserving the race must of
+course be abandoned. The advent of Europeans
+has undoubtedly brought with it many causes
+likely to operate unfavourably on their dark-skinned
+brethren. Some of these have already
+been mentioned, drink unquestionably occupying
+a bad pre-eminence.</p>
+
+<p>There is also no doubt among medical men
+that a partial adoption of European habits
+and customs, accompanied by a retention of
+various features in their barbarous mode of
+living, is the cause of much sickness and even
+mortality. Dr Newman points out one very
+characteristic fact: formerly, when the natives
+entered their <i>whares</i> with their wet mats on,
+they flung them aside; now, when they get
+wet in their European clothing, they keep it
+on, thus laying the foundation of many diseases.
+On the other hand, civilisation has introduced
+undoubted benefits. For example, the Maoris
+formerly subsisted on fern-root and such hard
+fare, and found that difficult to get at times.
+Now, they have an abundance of wholesome
+food, and can live in comfort on the revenue
+derived from their lands, if they do not spend
+their money in debauchery. As the result of
+the labours of the West Coast Royal Commission,
+for instance, every native in the confiscated
+territory in the North Island who has any right
+to be there, now has an interest in some reserve
+or other which will provide him with a settled
+homestead and the means of maintenance, and
+in many cases a considerable pecuniary income
+besides. Naturally, in not a few instances these
+material advantages are demoralising to the Maoris,
+who, when able to live in independence and
+luxury, will not work.</p>
+
+<p>Many of them, however, especially on the east
+coast and in the north, are devoting themselves
+industriously to such occupations as sheep-farming,
+maize-planting, tobacco-growing, &amp;c. I read, in
+the Reports of the native officers, that one tribe
+started farming with a flock of four thousand
+sheep, and divided the year’s profits, which actually
+amounted to seven hundred pounds. Another
+party of natives did better still at whale-fishing,
+securing spoil from the deep to the extent of
+two thousand six hundred pounds.</p>
+
+<p>Among all the elevating influences brought to
+bear upon the Maoris, the means of education
+appears to be the most promising; and if they
+succeed in avoiding the fate of extinction, to
+which so many savage tribes seem doomed when
+brought in contact with a higher civilisation,
+education will be the chief agent in bringing
+about the happy result. With the advance of
+education, it may reasonably be hoped that the
+Maoris—who are naturally a very receptive people—may
+be brought to see the evils of consanguineous
+marriages, to adopt more rational sanitary
+measures both as regards their children
+and themselves. At present, they have very erroneous
+and mischievous ideas of disease. When
+an epidemic of typhoid fever broke out among
+some of them recently, they were utterly regardless
+of the danger of infection, and ridiculed
+the idea of taking any precautionary measures
+to prevent the spread of the disease, saying it
+was not fever, but simply a Maori complaint
+brought on by <i>makutu</i> or witchcraft. When a
+native is attacked by illness, he frequently succumbs
+through sheer fright. It may easily be
+imagined how these facts increase the mortality
+of the race, and what improvement may be
+effected in these respects by the advancement of
+education.</p>
+
+<p>It is satisfactory to note that the government
+are alive to the importance of the subject.
+According to a recent official Return, it appears
+that there were sixty-nine native schools in full
+working order, and over two thousand Maori children
+receiving the elements of a good English
+education. The great advantage of these schools,
+it has been very well pointed out, is not so
+much that the young people learn to speak
+the English language, but that they learn to
+appreciate our customs, to value time, and to
+gain a desire for improvement, both mental and
+social, which, doubtless, they will transmit to
+their descendants, who will then become fitted
+to hold a fair position in the future. The natives
+generally appear to be alive to these facts, and
+not only send their children to the schools, but
+give sites for school-buildings, and show their
+interest in the movement in other ways. They
+elect their School Committees in the same way
+that the Europeans do, and on the whole do
+the work very well.</p>
+
+<p>The Blue Ribbon movement appears to have
+taken a singularly firm hold among the race. The
+so-called ‘king’ himself donned the badge with
+great ceremony at the solicitation of Sir George
+Grey, before leaving for England in 1884; and
+in every village are to be seen numbers of the
+young Maori ‘braves’ wearing the ‘bit of blue’
+as among the most cherished of their decorations.</p>
+
+<p>The outlook, then, as regards the conflict in
+which the race is at present engaged, is so
+far satisfactory. The question will, however,
+naturally be asked, whether the beneficial effects
+of the educative process are permanent, or
+whether, after the Maoris leave school, they
+relapse into their old habits and customs. The
+savage nature, we know, is very apt to reassert
+itself. Miss Bird tells us how the Ainos
+of Japan educated at Tokiô relapsed into barbarism
+on returning to their own people, retaining
+nothing but a knowledge of the Japanese
+language. Another writer recounts how an
+Indian girl, one of the most orderly of the pupils
+at a lady’s school, has been known, on feeling
+herself aggrieved, to withdraw to her room, let
+down her back hair, paint her face, and howl.
+Something of the sort, it must be confessed, is
+not altogether unknown in New Zealand. I once
+went to see a Maori <i>haka</i> or dance, interesting
+in its way, but not more edifying than native
+dances usually are. To my amazement, I saw
+among the performers a young lady whom I
+had known as a well-educated Maori girl, living
+in good circumstances, possessing excellent taste
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_675">{675}</span>in dress, and who had been in the habit of taking
+her place with advantage in European ballrooms.
+On this occasion her costume, although not more
+<i>décolletée</i> than European evening dress frequently
+is, would have created considerable sensation in
+an English gathering, consisting as it did simply
+of a loose calico gown. A very handsome, well-informed
+half-caste, one of the most lady-like
+persons I ever met, once confessed to me that
+she could never look on at a Maori <i>tangi</i> or
+wake without feeling an irresistible inclination
+to rush in and tear her hair and howl like the
+rest. In fact, she admitted that she had to leave
+such scenes, or her emotions might have become
+too strong for her self-control. Again, I shall
+not soon forget the surprise created, a few years
+ago, when one of the most promising young
+Maoris in Wellington, who had been brought
+up with Europeans from childhood, who was
+being educated for a barrister, and who promised
+to be one of the ornaments of the profession,
+suddenly disappeared, and was next heard of as
+having flung off his European clothes and joined
+the fanatical followers of a half-demented Maori
+prophet known as Te Whiti. No inducements
+could prevail on him to return to civilisation,
+and he became one of the most devoted and
+credulous of the prophet’s adherents.</p>
+
+<p>These, however, are exceptions, and not the
+rule. We have Maori members both of the
+Upper and Lower House who are a pattern to
+some other legislators in many respects, and
+can take their place in any European society.
+We have Maori clergymen both Anglican and
+Wesleyan who appear to make pastors of the
+most exemplary kind. There is as yet no Maori
+lawyer in practice, but some native lads are
+being trained in solicitors’ offices, and there is
+every prospect of their naturally keen wits
+enabling them to take a good position in the
+profession. So far as I am aware, they are
+not ambitious of becoming doctors; and some
+malicious people may be cruel enough to suggest
+that as regards the longevity of the race
+this is rather an advantage than otherwise.</p>
+
+<p>Some of them are being trained to trades; and
+it is suggested by the organising inspector that
+every boy, after he has gone through the village
+school course, should, if his parents wish it,
+be apprenticed to some trade by the government,
+so as to insure his obtaining a proper
+industrial training. With the Maoris grounded
+in a proper knowledge of social and sanitary
+laws, with their moral and intellectual instincts
+properly guided and cultivated, there seems yet
+to be a hope that the prophecy so often made,
+that the race must speedily die out, may be
+falsified. This is the opinion of a medical man to
+whom I have already referred. In his Report to
+the native Minister, Dr Ginders, after mentioning
+the prevalent diseases among the Maoris, says:
+‘In my opinion, the production, and severity,
+and the spread of these diseases are determined
+by two main factors: first, the influence of the
+<i>wharepuni</i> (sleeping-hut), and secondly, the consumption
+of putrid food. Compared with these
+two gigantic evils, alcohol is nowhere. Were
+there no <i>wharepunis</i>, I believe the Maori would
+be a successful rival of his European neighbour in
+sobriety and industry; but with his blood vitiated
+by the foul air of these hotbeds of disease,
+he has neither strength nor inclination to work,
+and it would be odd, indeed, if he had no craving
+for stimulants. I am inclined to credit the
+<i>wharepuni</i> with more than half the infant mortality.
+Not only is the child injured directly
+by this devitalising influence, but indirectly
+through the mother, whose milk is diminished
+in quantity and impoverished in quality by
+the same cause. I believe the growing intelligence
+of the rising generation of Maoris has
+already checked the rapid decadence of the
+race. I believe, too, that these evils will gradually
+die out, and we shall find the native population
+increasing <i>pari passu</i>.’</p>
+
+<p>New Zealand at the present time, it will be
+seen, has a grand opportunity for assisting in
+the achievement of a civilising feat which, if
+successful, will go very far to confute those
+pessimists who declare that our modern civilisation
+is a delusion and a snare, utterly destructive
+to the weaker races with whom it is brought
+in contact.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak x-ebookmaker-important" id="BY_ORDER_OF_THE_LEAGUE">BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.</h2></div>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first act in the drama was about to be
+played—the puppets all arranged, all acting for
+themselves, never heeding the hand of fate in
+it. Hector le Gautier triumphant, but troubled
+occasionally by the loss of his device, yet trusting
+to his own good fortune and matchless audacity
+to pull him through.</p>
+
+<p>The curious in such matters, the idle folks
+who dream and speculate, had food for reflection
+in their <i>Times</i> next morning, for on the
+front sheet on the second column appeared an
+announcement. It was vague; but one man
+understood it. It ran:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+<p><span class="smcap">Moidore.</span>—How reckless of you to throw away
+a life on the hazard of a die. They are all
+safe but yours. Where is that? In two months
+you will have to deliver, and then beware of
+the wrath of the Crimson Nine. It is not too
+late yet. Under the clock at C. × at nine—any
+night. Use the sign, and good will come of
+it.—<span class="smcap">Eastern Eagle.</span></p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The <i>Times</i> containing this announcement lay
+upon Isodore’s breakfast-table in Ventnor Street,
+Fitzroy Square. As it rested upon the table,
+the words were readable, and Isodore smiled
+when they caught her eye as she entered. She
+took up an album from a side-table and turned
+over the leaves till she came to the portrait of
+a pretty dark girl of about seventeen. At this
+she looked long and intently, and then turned
+to scrutinise her features in the glass. There
+was nothing coquettish about this—no suspicion
+of womanly vanity, but rather the air of one
+who strives to find some likeness. Apparently
+the examination pleased her, for she smiled
+again—not a pleasant smile, this time, but one
+of certainty, almost cruelty; and a vengeful look
+made the eyes hard for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to the photograph again, and then
+once more back to the mirror, as if to be absolutely
+certain of her convictions, that there might
+be no mistake.</p>
+
+<p>While absorbed thus, Valerie le Gautier
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_676">{676}</span>entered the room and looked at Isodore in
+astonishment. ‘You have a grand excuse,’ she
+said archly, ‘though I did not know that vanity
+was one of your failings, Isodore.’</p>
+
+<p>Isodore blushed never so faintly, not so much
+by being taken in the little act, as by the appearance
+of the thing. ‘It is not on any account of
+mine,’ she said; ‘rather, on yours.—Valerie, look
+here carefully and tell me if you know that face.’
+She indicated the portrait in the album; and her
+friend looked at it earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>After a few moments she looked up, shaking
+her head doubtfully. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘It is
+a strange face entirely to me.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Then I have altered since that was taken five
+years ago.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Is it possible that innocent, childish-looking
+face could have once been you?’ Valerie asked in
+unfeigned astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>‘Indeed, it is. There is nothing like sorrow
+and hardship to alter the expression of features,
+especially of women. Yes, Valerie, that is what
+I was when I met him. You would not have
+known me?’</p>
+
+<p>‘No, indeed. They might be two different
+faces.’</p>
+
+<p>‘So much the better for me—so much the
+worse for him,’ Isodore observed without the
+slightest tinge of passion in her tones.—‘Read that
+paragraph in the <i>Times</i>, and see if you can make
+anything of it.’</p>
+
+<p>‘It is Greek to me,’ Valerie replied, when she
+had perused the advertisement with a puzzled air.—‘Has
+it any allusion to my—to Hector?’</p>
+
+<p>‘To your husband? Yes. He will understand
+it in a moment, and only be too eager to regain
+his insignia. There will be a happy union of
+two loving hearts some night in Charing Cross
+Station. Little will the spectators know of the
+passions running riot there.’ She laughed bitterly
+as she said these words, and threw the paper
+upon the table again. She was in a strange
+mood this morning.</p>
+
+<p>‘Then I suppose that C. × means Charing
+Cross?’ Valerie asked, ‘and you expect Hector
+to come there?—I do not quite comprehend your
+plan, Isodore. It will be dangerous to have
+another in the secret, and I suppose some one
+will have to meet him.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Some one will,’ was the calm reply. ‘And
+who, do you think, is the proper one to do
+that? Who better than his old friend and once
+passionate admirer, Isodore?’</p>
+
+<p>‘<i>You</i> meet him?’ Valerie cried. ‘How daring!
+Suppose he should recognise you, how then?
+All your schemes would be thrown to the winds,
+and we should be defeated. It is madness!’</p>
+
+<p>‘You forget I have his badge of membership;
+besides, I have a duty to perform beyond my
+own feelings in the matter—my duty to the
+League. But he will not recognise me after the
+lapse of years, and I must get to the bottom
+of his traitorous designs.’</p>
+
+<p>‘You are reckoning upon certainties, Isodore.
+Suppose you are wrong—suppose he is, after all,
+no traitor, and that your ideas are only fancies.
+How then?’</p>
+
+<p>‘He is a traitor—instinct tells me that. Wait
+and see what Lucrece has to say, when she comes.
+She is sure to have gleaned some information by
+this time.’</p>
+
+<p>Hot revenge is apt to burn itself out quickly,
+from its very fierceness; but such hate as this
+never dies. There was a cool deliberation in
+Isodore’s words which struck her hearer with
+great force; and much as she herself had suffered,
+she could not realise a passion such as this. It
+is probable that had she met her recalcitrant
+husband, a few words would have obtained for
+him forgiveness; but she was under the spell
+now, and her weaker will was swallowed up
+in a strong one.</p>
+
+<p>‘Do you expect Lucrece this morning?’ Valerie
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>‘I am expecting her every moment,’ Isodore
+replied. ‘She promised me to come to-day and
+let me have her report.’</p>
+
+<p>They sat in silence for a few moments, when
+Lucrece entered. She was quietly, almost plainly
+dressed, and wore an air of extreme meekness.</p>
+
+<p>‘You look the character,’ Isodore said approvingly.
+‘You might have been a menial all your
+lifetime.—I am all impatience. Begin!’</p>
+
+<p>‘In the first place,’ Lucrece began without
+further preamble, ‘I like my situation; and as
+to my new mistress, to know her is to love her.
+You have no idea how gentle and thoughtful she
+is. Now, to begin with her. The dear Hector
+has a rival, and a powerful one; his name is
+Frederick Maxwell, and he is an artist. From
+what I can see, they are engaged.—Isodore, this
+Maxwell has joined the League, and will be introduced
+by Salvarini.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Frederick Maxwell! Carlo’s old friend! Poor
+fool! Le Gautier has tools enough.’</p>
+
+<p>‘He is a fine handsome Englishman; honour
+and honesty stamped in every line of his face;
+just the sort of man to be made useful.—But
+to continue. Le Gautier is <i>l’ami de la famille</i>. He
+has a wonderful influence over Sir Geoffrey, and
+has succeeded in fascinating Enid—and she hates
+him notwithstanding. Isodore, Le Gautier is at
+his old spiritualistic tricks again.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Ah!—Tell me something of Sir Geoffrey.’</p>
+
+<p>‘I am coming to that. Last night, my mistress
+was out very late, not getting home till past one.
+It has been my habit to wait for her in the back
+dining-room, and last night I was sitting there
+in the dark, dozing. I was awakened by the
+entrance of Sir Geoffrey. I could see his face
+was ghastly pale, and he kept muttering to himself,
+and some words at intervals I caught. “I
+wonder if it was jugglery,” I heard him say—“if
+it was some trick of Le Gautier’s?—No; it could
+not be; and yet, if I am to have any peace, I
+must fulfil the compact—I must join this Brotherhood.
+And Enid, what will she say, when she
+knows? What will Maxwell think of me?—But
+perhaps Le Gautier is already married.” I could
+not catch any more. What do you think of
+it?’</p>
+
+<p>Isodore was following the speaker so intently,
+and so engrossed in her thoughts, that she did
+not reply for a moment. ‘You can help us here,
+Valerie. Tell us what you think.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Lucrece is perfectly right,’ Valerie replied. ‘I
+have hitherto told you that my husband used
+to dabble in such things; nay, more, as a conjurer
+he was probably without a rival. He made
+a great reputation at Rome before the thing
+exploded; and indeed, to a weak mind, some of
+the séances were awe-inspiring.’</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_677">{677}</span></p>
+<p>‘It seems to me,’ Isodore put in reflectively,
+‘that Le Gautier has worked upon Sir Geoffrey’s
+superstitious fears till he has him bound fast
+enough. And you say he is to join the Brotherhood.
+Really, I begin to feel an admiration
+for the man I am pledged to destroy. It is
+clear that he has promised his daughter to Le
+Gautier. Is she weak?’</p>
+
+<p>‘On the contrary, though she is gentle and
+tractable, there is much determination of purpose
+underlying her gentleness.’</p>
+
+<p>‘You have done wonders in this short time,
+my sister. But do not relax your vigilance
+now; let nothing escape you that may be of
+use to us.’</p>
+
+<p>‘I must return,’ Lucrece explained, looking at
+her watch, ‘or I shall be missed. I will not
+fail to bring you such information as falls in
+my way from time to time.’</p>
+
+<p>After she was gone, the women sat quietly
+for a time, each pondering over what they had
+heard. The information was not much; but it
+sufficed to show them in what way the influence
+over the weak baronet had been obtained,
+and every detail of Le Gautier’s movement might
+be of use. A wild plan formed itself in Isodore’s
+busy brain, as she sat thinking there. ‘Why
+should it not be?’ she thought.</p>
+
+<p>‘Do you think it would be possible for any
+one to love me?’ she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Valerie looked into the beautiful face and
+smiled. ‘How otherwise?’</p>
+
+<p>‘Then it shall be so. Valerie, I am going
+to make Hector le Gautier love me as he never
+loved woman before!’</p>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3>
+
+<p>Hector le Gautier, all unconscious of the plot
+against his safety and peace of mind, sat over
+his breakfast the same morning. He was on
+remarkably good terms with himself, for all his
+plans were prospering, and for him the present
+outlook was a rosy one. His plans were well
+laid. He intended to keep his present position
+in the League, to go to Warsaw if necessary;
+and now that he had Sir Geoffrey in his hands
+beyond all hope of extrication, it was easy enough
+to send Maxwell upon some dangerous foreign
+mission, where, if he escaped with his life, he
+would henceforth be an outlaw and a fugitive.
+Sir Geoffrey, too, had bound himself to join;
+and with this lever, he could work upon Enid’s
+fears to perfection.</p>
+
+<p>He was in no hurry; he was far too consummate
+a rogue, too accomplished a schemer,
+to ruin the delicate combination by any premature
+move, preferring for the present to renew
+his forces and calculate his advance, as a chess-player
+might when he knows the game is in
+his hands. Then should come the crowning act,
+by which he should rid himself of the irksome
+chains which bound him to the League. All his
+plans were prepared for delivering the leaders
+into the hands of justice, always with a care to
+his own escape. As he turned these things over
+in his mind, he whistled a little air gaily, resumed
+his breakfast, and opened the broadsheet of the
+<i>Times</i> to see the news of the day.</p>
+
+<p>Fortune seemed to be smiling upon him, he
+thought, as he read the mystic announcement
+in the second outside column. Here was the
+thing which had caused him so much anxious
+thought as good as delivered again into his hands.
+Some friend, perhaps, had discovered his loss,
+and had determined to return it thus. Perhaps—and
+here he showed his white teeth in a dazzling
+smile—some fair one, who had taken this way
+to show her admiration; for Le Gautier was,
+like most vain men, a great admirer of the sex,
+and fully impressed with the all-conquering
+fascination of his manner. He was not the first
+clever man who has held such opinions, and
+found, when too late, the fatal error of underrating
+the power of an injured woman.</p>
+
+<p>He perfectly understood the advertisement.
+It was not the first time that newspapers had
+been employed to do work for the League; nor
+did he hesitate to avail himself of this golden
+opportunity. He had scarcely finished his breakfast
+and made up his mind to meet the mysterious
+Eastern Eagle, when Salvarini entered. He was
+moody and preoccupied, with a sombre frown
+upon his face, telling of much inward uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p>‘I do not like these new arrangements,’ he
+commenced abruptly, in answer to Le Gautier’s
+florid greeting. ‘There is great danger in them,
+and they cannot lead to any good results. I
+shall oppose them.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Pray, explain yourself, my good Luigi; I
+am in Cimmerian darkness,’ Le Gautier replied
+carelessly. ‘You are so dreadfully in earnest;
+absolutely, you view life through the gloomy
+spectacles of the League.’</p>
+
+<p>‘It is folly, madness!’ Salvarini replied passionately.
+‘Heaven knows, we have had bloodshed
+enough. What do you think the last proposal
+is?—Nothing less than the removal of
+ministers: dynamite is to be the agent, and a
+special mission arranged to Rome. Visci—our
+dear old friend Visci—is doomed!’</p>
+
+<p>‘They must be mad,’ Le Gautier returned
+calmly. ‘But tell me, Luigi, what of Visci?’
+he continued, inspired by a sudden thought.
+‘I presume you have been holding a Council
+this morning. Visci used to be a friend of
+yours. How do they propose to get rid of
+him?’</p>
+
+<p>‘The dagger!’ Salvarini answered with great
+agitation. ‘Visci was once a friend of mine,
+as you say, and yours too, for that. Heaven
+save me from the task!’</p>
+
+<p>‘But why need it be you? We have new
+members, new blood as yet untried. Let them
+show their mettle now. There is no reason
+why we should always be in the van of battle.
+But why this sudden determination?’</p>
+
+<p>‘The old story,’ Salvarini continued bitterly—‘private
+grudges brought in; personal ends to be
+served where all should be of one accord, all
+striving for the good of the cause. I am heartsick
+and weary of the whole affair. Is our path
+always to be defiled with innocent blood?’</p>
+
+<p>‘So long as I can keep my hands clean, it is
+nothing to me,’ Le Gautier replied with a careless
+shrug; ‘not that I hold with the present
+system.—But abandon your Cassandra vein, and
+be yourself for a moment. See what you think
+of that, and congratulate me upon a stroke of
+fortune I have not altogether deserved.’</p>
+
+<p>‘I congratulate you,’ Salvarini grimly replied,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_678">{678}</span>when he had perused the paragraph. ‘You
+always contrive to fall upon your feet. Did I
+not tell you that night in the Kursaal you
+would hear of this again? Of course it is a
+woman. No man would have taken such trouble,
+especially if he happened to be a Brother,’ he
+concluded with significant emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>Le Gautier drew his fingers airily across his
+throat, intending by this little playful action to
+allude to his own sudden death. In his petty
+vanity, he was not altogether displeased that his
+friend should hint at a conquest.</p>
+
+<p>‘Undoubtedly from a woman,’ he said. ‘Mark
+the mystery and romance underlying it all. Some
+fair dame of the Order, perhaps, who has seen
+me only to become a victim to my numberless
+charms.—Luigi, my friend, this little affair promises
+amusement.’</p>
+
+<p>‘I might have known that,’ Salvarini retorted
+with some little contempt. ‘I believe you could
+be turned aside from the most pressing mission
+by a glance from a pair of melting eyes.—Bah!
+your thoughts run on such things to the detriment
+of the Order.’</p>
+
+<p>‘In such a charming situation as you mention,
+confusion to the Order!—Now, do not look so
+melodramatic! Pardieu! do you think a man
+should have no amusements? Now, as a penance,
+you shall bore me with the order of this morning’s
+proceedings.’</p>
+
+<p>‘A woman will ruin you eventually.’—Le
+Gautier smiled; the sententious words read the
+wrong way.—‘We had not much transaction this
+morning, save what I have told you, and the
+initiation of a few members.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Converts to the noble cause of freedom.—Any
+one I know?’</p>
+
+<p>‘Several. Do I understand it is your intention
+to introduce Sir Geoffrey in person?’</p>
+
+<p>Le Gautier nodded assent; and the friends proceeded
+to discuss other matters connected with
+their mission. When Salvarini had left, long
+and earnestly did Le Gautier sit silently there.
+Then he rose, and taking a pack of cards from
+a drawer, began to cut and shuffle them rapidly.
+He dealt them round six times, bringing the
+knave of clubs on the same heap each time. He
+put the cards away; an evil smile was on his face.</p>
+
+<p>‘My right hand has not lost its cunning,’ he
+muttered. ‘Frederick Maxwell shall go to Rome,
+and—— Well, fate will do the rest.’</p>
+
+<p>With this humane remark, he put on his hat,
+struggled into a pair of very tight-fitting gloves,
+and passed out from Hunter Street into the
+Euston Road; for it is almost needless to say
+that the house beyond Paddington where we
+last saw him was not his ordinary lodging, his
+abode being a much humbler one, as consisted
+with his limited means; for Hector le Gautier,
+though moving in good society, and always faultlessly
+attired, was not endowed with that wealth
+that smooths so many paths in this vale of tears.
+Like other men of his class, he contrived to
+keep his head above water, though how it was
+done was alike a mystery to himself and his
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>It was past two as he turned into Grosvenor
+Square and up the broad flight of steps which
+led up to the Charteris’ mansion. He had come
+here with more purposes than one: in the first
+place, to see Enid—this attraction a powerful one;
+and secondly, to have a talk upon general matters
+with the baronet, and perhaps get an invitation
+to luncheon. Sir Geoffrey he found in the
+dining-room, just sitting down to his mid-day
+meal in solitary state; and in answer to an invitation
+to join, asked after Enid, who, he learned,
+had gone with Maxwell and a kindly chaperon to
+a morning-party at Twickenham. He was, however,
+too much a cosmopolitan to allow this to
+interfere with his appetite, so, with a few well-chosen
+words of regret, he settled himself quietly
+to his lunch, discussing in turn the weather,
+politics, the last new beauty, anything—waiting
+for his host to speak upon the subject nearest his
+heart. Sir Geoffrey’s patience being by this time
+exhausted, he commenced.</p>
+
+<p>‘I think I am free, Le Gautier,’ he said at
+length.</p>
+
+<p>The listener affected not to comprehend this
+enigmatic remark.</p>
+
+<p>‘Free from what, Sir Geoffrey?’ he asked
+carelessly. ‘Is it gout, or headache, or a marvellous
+escape from dining with a notorious bore?
+Which of these things are you free from?’</p>
+
+<p>‘I was thinking of nothing so worldly,’ was
+the serious reply. ‘I allude to the marvellous
+manifestations recently vouchsafed to me. Since
+you so kindly showed me through yourself the
+path of duty, I have felt like a different man.
+They are gone, I trust for ever. Tell me, do
+you think there is any possible chance of their
+recurring?’</p>
+
+<p>‘So long as you fulfil your part of the contract,
+certainly not.—But, my dear Sir Geoffrey,’ the
+Frenchman continued gaily, ‘let us have no
+serious conversation now, I beseech you. Let us
+forget for the time we are anything but friends.
+I am too light and frivolous to talk seriously.
+The last new play, a fresh picture, anything but
+the supernatural.’</p>
+
+<p>Despite this appearance of <i>bonhomie</i>, Le Gautier
+had no intention of changing the conversation,
+though it was not his cue to introduce the subject
+himself; besides, an appearance of good-naturedly
+yielding to the other’s news seemed to tell better,
+and create a deeper feeling of obligation.</p>
+
+<p>‘The longer I put the matter off, the more
+difficult my task seems to be,’ the baronet continued,
+not without hesitation. ‘Certain restrictions
+were laid upon me, certain commands given,
+which I am bound to carry out. If you had
+heard the conversation, my task would be less
+difficult; but as you did not, I must do my best
+to explain.’</p>
+
+<p>Le Gautier drummed with his fingers upon the
+table, shrugged his shoulders, and sighed gently,
+as a man yielding against his will upon the
+sacred ground of friendship, tempered with politeness.</p>
+
+<p>‘If you have anything to say, it is perhaps
+better to say it. But if it pains you, if it gives
+you the slightest mental agony or discloses family
+affairs, then, my dear sir, be dumb;’ and the
+speaker glanced out of the window, as if he considered
+the matter settled.</p>
+
+<p>‘But I must tell you. It is impossible I can
+fulfil my promises without your assistance. In
+the first place, I am commanded to join your
+League or Brotherhood; and here, you see, I
+cannot get any further without your good advice
+and countenance.’</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_679">{679}</span></p>
+<p>‘You distress me,’ Le Gautier replied mournfully.
+‘I wish that matter could have been
+settled without such a step being necessary.
+Our work, though a noble one, is attended at
+times with great hardship and danger. Think,
+my dear Sir Geoffrey—think if there is no
+middle course by which such an action may be
+avoided.’</p>
+
+<p>The speaker created the impression he was
+most anxious to make. To the baronet, full of
+his scheme, this advice was unpalatable, the more
+that, like most spoilt, weak-minded men, he was
+intensely fond of his own way. He grew stubborn.
+Le Gautier was perfectly at ease as he
+studied the other’s face.</p>
+
+<p>‘I see no middle course. The injunction was
+very strict. I dare not disobey, if I would. I
+must become a member of your League, whatever
+the danger may be; and if called upon, I must
+take my part in the work. Do you not remember
+the vision?’——</p>
+
+<p>‘You forget my state,’ Le Gautier interrupted
+softly—‘that during the time I heard nothing,
+comprehended nothing going on around me. My
+faculties for the time being were torpid.’</p>
+
+<p>This adroit interruption only served to increase
+the baronet’s uneasiness. He writhed in his
+chair, unable to continue.</p>
+
+<p>‘And there is another thing,’ he stammered,
+‘which I must tell you, though I scarcely know
+how. I daresay you have noticed my daughter?’</p>
+
+<p>‘Is it possible to see her and not be conscious
+of her beauties!’ Le Gautier cried—‘to be in
+her presence and not feel the charm of her
+society! Ah! Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued blandly,
+throwing out a strong hint, ‘he will be a happy
+man who wins the treasure of her heart!’</p>
+
+<p>At this helping of the lame dog over the stile,
+Sir Geoffrey looked grateful. ‘Has she ever
+impressed you, Le Gautier?’</p>
+
+<p>‘Alas, yes,’ was the melancholy reply, but with
+some feeling too, for, as far as he was concerned,
+the passion was genuine. ‘Why should I strive
+to conceal my honest love? I may be poor and
+unknown, but I am at least a gentleman, and I
+offer the greatest compliment man can pay a
+woman—an ardent, loving heart.—But I am rambling;
+I dream, I rave! That I should aspire
+to an alliance with the House of Charteris!’</p>
+
+<p>The baronet was somewhat moved by this
+display of manly emotion, and, moreover, his
+pride was tickled. The young man evidently
+knew that what he aspired to was a high honour
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>‘But, Sir Geoffrey,’ he continued brokenly,
+‘you will not breathe a word of this to a soul!
+In a moment of passion, I have been led to
+divulge the master-passion of my life. Promise
+me you will forget it from this hour;’ and
+saying these words, he stretched out a hand
+trembling with suppressed emotion to his host
+and friend. A good actor was lost to an admiring
+world here.</p>
+
+<p>‘But bless me!’ Sir Geoffrey exclaimed, taken
+aback by this display, and, sooth to say, somewhat
+irritated that the necessary explanation must
+come from him after all, ‘I <i>want</i> you to marry
+the girl.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Is it possible, or am I dreaming?’ Le Gautier
+cried in a delirium of rapture. ‘Do I hear
+aright? Oh, say these words again!’</p>
+
+<p>Le Gautier was slightly overdoing the thing
+now, and Sir Geoffrey knew it. ‘I mean what
+I say,’ he added coldly. ‘You are the man
+for Enid.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Who is talking about Enid?’ asked a fresh
+clear voice at that moment, as the subject of
+discourse, accompanied by her escort, glided into
+the room. Le Gautier, in love as he was,
+thought he had never seen her look so fair as
+she did then, her face slightly tinged with colour,
+her eyes all aglow with pleasurable excitement.
+For a moment the conspirators were abashed,
+and it took all the Frenchman’s cool equitable
+nerve to solve and explain what appeared to be
+a truly awkward question.</p>
+
+<p>‘When we are not with the rose, we love to
+talk of her,’ he replied with one of these bold
+glances for which Maxwell longed to kick him
+on the spot.—‘I trust you have spent a pleasant
+morning?’</p>
+
+<p>Enid answered as coldly as the dictates of
+breeding would allow. The man’s florid compliments
+were odious to her, and his presence
+oppressive. Le Gautier, accustomed to read men
+and faces like open books, did not fail to note
+this.</p>
+
+<p>‘I have important news,’ he whispered to
+Maxwell, after he had made his graceful adieux
+to Enid and his host. ‘I want to say a few words
+to you, if you happen to be walking my way.’</p>
+
+<p>Maxwell answered with studious politeness.
+‘With pleasure,’ he said. ‘If you will allow me,
+I will drive you in my cab.’</p>
+
+<p>Enid’s quick ears caught the whisper, and a
+feeling of approaching evil seemed to come over
+her—a cloud passed over the sun, and, to her
+fancy, for a moment Le Gautier looked like
+Mephistopheles tempting Faust. As the two men
+passed out, she called Maxwell back. ‘Be careful,’
+she urged. ‘Beware of that man; he will
+do you a mischief.’</p>
+
+<p>Maxwell smiled down in the pretty fearful
+face tenderly. ‘All right, little woman,’ he
+answered carelessly. ‘I shall take care. He is
+not likely to do any harm to me.’</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="NAPOLEON_IN_TOR_BAY">NAPOLEON IN TOR BAY.</h2></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is all but impossible to realise the scene of
+excitement which the calm blue waters of Tor
+Bay, crested with the bright sunshine of the
+summer of 1815, presented, when the Emperor
+Napoleon arrived on board the <i>Bellerophon</i>, soon
+to be transferred to the <i>Northumberland</i>, in which
+he was conveyed to St Helena. After the
+world-earthquake Waterloo, when the allies
+entered Paris, and the French army declared for
+Louis XVIII., Napoleon made his way to Rochefort,
+where he arrived on the 3d of July, and
+whence his attempts at escape were frustrated by
+the moonlight and the vigilance of the English
+cruisers. Two frigates had been placed at his
+disposal to facilitate his flight to America, and
+arrangements likewise made with a Danish smack
+which was to await him out at sea; but to
+reach her under the circumstances was deemed
+an attempt too hazardous. At last, on the 14th
+of July, Count Las Cases and General Allemand
+came on board the <i>Bellerophon</i>, then lying in
+the Basque Roads, with a proposal to Captain
+Maitland that he should receive Napoleon, who
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_680">{680}</span>desired to proceed to England for the purpose
+of throwing himself upon the generosity of the
+Prince Regent. Captain Maitland clearly explained
+that it was out of his power to grant
+terms of any sort, and that his instructions only
+permitted him to convey Napoleon and his
+attendants to England; on which understanding,
+the ex-Emperor, with his baggage, embarked the
+following morning on board a French brig,
+which conveyed them to the <i>Bellerophon</i>, where
+he was received with the honours due to a
+crowned head. On gaining the quarter-deck, the
+Emperor said in French to the captain: ‘I am
+come, sir, to claim the protection of your Prince
+and of your laws.’ In appearance he is described
+as about five and a half feet in height, strongly
+made, decidedly stout, with a sallow complexion,
+and dark-brown hair, as yet untouched with
+gray. He wore a green uniform coat with
+epaulets and a red collar, a broad red sash, star
+on the left breast, white waistcoat, boots and
+pantaloons, and a large cocked hat with the tricoloured
+cockade.</p>
+
+<p>The passage, by reason of adverse winds, was
+slow, so that it was the 24th ere the <i>Bellerophon</i>
+arrived in Tor Bay, when Captain Maitland
+was signalled to stand out three leagues from
+shore, and there await further orders from the
+Admiralty. It is said that on first beholding
+the Devonshire coast, Napoleon could not conceal
+his admiration, exclaiming: ‘At length here is
+this beautiful country! How much it resembles
+Porto Ferrajo, in Elba.’</p>
+
+<p>No sooner was it known that the disturber of
+the peace of Europe, against whom they had so
+long and so sternly striven, was actually on
+board ship at anchor in Tor Bay, than from
+Dartmouth, Paignton, Dawlish, Teignmouth, and
+by-and-by from ports more distant still, the
+country-folk thronged in boats of every size and
+shape, struggling to approach the <i>Bellerophon</i> to
+catch a glimpse of the fallen Emperor. So inconvenient
+and dangerous was the crowding of
+these innumerable craft with their cargoes of
+sightseers, that it became necessary to order the
+<i>Bellerophon’s</i> boats to row round the ship to
+keep them at a respectful distance. No fewer
+than a thousand boats daily put off from the
+shore; and Napoleon exhibited no little pleasure
+and amusement at the interest excited by his
+presence. From London and all parts of the
+country, people flocked down to Tor Bay during
+the time necessarily occupied in determining
+Napoleon’s final destination, well pleased if they
+succeeded in catching an occasional glimpse of
+him as he walked backwards and forwards in
+the stern gallery with his hands behind him, or
+surveyed through an opera glass the varied
+texture of the crowd in the vessels below. As
+he paced the quarter-deck in conversation with
+one or other of his followers, he would frequently
+approach the ship’s side and acknowledge
+the salutations of his visitors. Two or
+three French ladies, wives of members of the
+suite, dressed in the height of the prevailing
+fashion, were frequently seated on deck, with
+whom, as he paused in his walk and stooped
+to look through the ports at the vessels alongside,
+Napoleon would now and again exchange
+a word. At six o’clock the dinner-bell rang,
+when the Emperor with his attendants went
+below, the sailors with great good-humour putting
+out a board on which was chalked, ‘He’s gone
+to dine.’ He usually remained about half an
+hour, when another board announced his reappearance
+on deck. It was about the 1st of
+August when his ultimate destination became
+known to him through the newspapers, and he
+was shortly afterwards observed at the cabin
+window tearing up papers, which he threw into
+the sea. Fragments of some of these, being seized
+upon as relics, turned out to be translations of
+speeches in the last session of parliament, and a
+letter addressed to the Empress Maria Louisa
+immediately after his abdication.</p>
+
+<p>But of all the incidents which occurred while
+Napoleon was in Tor Bay, the most remarkable
+was a farewell visit paid him by a lady of
+foreign appearance and surpassing loveliness.
+Cloaked and veiled, to escape observation, she
+carried with her a bouquet of choicest flowers,
+peculiarly arranged in rows, which, when her
+boat arrived at a convenient distance from the
+<i>Bellerophon</i>, was despatched in charge of her
+servant. As the token of unchanged affection
+reached the quarter-deck, the lady was observed
+to raise her veil, disclosing features of exceeding
+beauty. At first, the bouquet seemed to awaken
+no memories in Napoleon’s breast, but after a
+moment, he hastily approached the ship’s side,
+and steadfastly gazing awhile on the fair form
+disclosed to view, he waved a last farewell.</p>
+
+<p>On Wednesday the 2d of August, the <i>Bellerophon</i>
+and <i>Tonnant</i> sailed for Plymouth, where
+it had been intended that the transfer to the
+<i>Northumberland</i> should be carried out. But in
+consequence of the loss of life which occurred
+from the vast concourse of boats in the Sound,
+as well as to avoid a writ of habeas corpus,
+under which it was desired to obtain the evidence
+of Napoleon in a case at the time pending
+in the Queen’s Bench, it was deemed advisable
+to return to Tor Bay, where, on Sunday the 6th
+of August, the three vessels (the <i>Northumberland</i>
+having meantime come round from Portsmouth)
+cast anchor. No sooner were the ships brought
+up, than Sir Henry Bunbury, accompanied by
+Mr Bathurst, proceeded on board the <i>Bellerophon</i>,
+and announced to the ex-Emperor the resolution
+of the cabinet, that he should be transported to
+St Helena, accompanied by four of his friends
+and twelve servants. The information was received
+without surprise; but in a speech of three-quarters
+of an hour’s duration, delivered in a
+manner the most impressive, Napoleon protested
+against the determination which had been arrived
+at.</p>
+
+<p>The same afternoon, Lord Keith and Sir
+George Cockburn proceeded in the admiral’s
+yacht to the <i>Bellerophon</i>. Napoleon was on deck
+to receive them. After the usual salutations,
+Lord Keith addressed himself to Bonaparte, and
+acquainted him with his intended transfer to the
+<i>Northumberland</i> for passage to St Helena. After
+much expostulation, Napoleon finally refused to
+go; but upon Lord Keith expressing the hope
+that no coercion would be necessary to carry out
+the orders of government, he replied: ‘O no,
+no! you command, I must obey! Only, recollect,
+I do not go of my own free-will.’ He then
+formally handed to Lord Keith a written protest
+against his transportation to St Helena, in which
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_681">{681}</span>it was contended, that having come voluntarily
+on board the <i>Bellerophon</i>, he was the guest and
+not the prisoner of England. ‘I appeal,’ he
+concluded, ‘to history, whether an enemy who
+comes deliberately in his misfortunes to seek an
+asylum under the protection of English law, can
+give a more convincing proof of his esteem and
+confidence. But how have the English answered
+such confidence and magnanimity; they pretended
+to extend a friendly hand to this enemy;
+and when he relied on their good faith, they
+sacrificed him.’</p>
+
+<p>It was afterwards arranged that the transfer
+should take place the following morning (Monday)
+about eleven o’clock. Early next day, Sir
+George Cockburn superintended the inspection
+of the baggage, consisting of services and toilet
+sets of plate, several articles in gold, books, beds,
+&amp;c., which were sent on board the <i>Northumberland</i>,
+four thousand gold napoleons being sealed
+up and detained. The baggage having been
+removed, the parting scene commenced, Napoleon
+handing to several of his officers a certificate
+of fidelity and good service. About eleven
+o’clock, the barge of the <i>Tonnant</i> proceeded to
+the <i>Bellerophon</i> to receive the fallen Emperor
+and those who were to be the partakers of his
+exile: General and Madame Bertrand with their
+children, Count and Countess Montholon and
+child, Count Las Cases, General Gourgaud, nine
+men and three women servants. At the last
+moment, Napoleon’s surgeon refused to accompany
+him, whereupon the surgeon of the <i>Bellerophon</i>,
+Mr O’Meara, consented to supply his place.
+Shortly afterwards O’Meara was offered a salary
+of five hundred pounds per annum, but this he
+rejected, with the remark that the pay of his
+king was sufficient to satisfy him.</p>
+
+<p>Before entering the barge which was to
+convey him to the <i>Northumberland</i>, Bonaparte
+addressed himself to Captain Maitland and the
+officers of the <i>Bellerophon</i>, not forgetting to take
+off his hat to them again after descending the
+ladder into the barge. It was about noon on
+the 7th of August when the barge of the <i>Tonnant</i>
+approached the starboard side of the <i>Northumberland</i>.
+Bertrand was the first to go over the
+side, and standing with his hat off, upright as
+a sentinel, announced his master. Napoleon
+instantly followed, and taking off his hat,
+remarked to Sir George Cockburn, who received
+him: ‘Monsieur, je suis à vos ordres.’ At
+once moving forward on the quarter-deck, he
+desired to be introduced to Captain Ross, who
+commanded the ship, a ceremony which was
+immediately performed, the guard of marines,
+drawn up on the port side, receiving the ex-Emperor
+with the compliment due to his rank
+as a general officer. To Lord Lowther and Mr
+Lyttleton, who stood near the admiral, Napoleon
+bowed and spoke a few words, remarking also
+to an artillery officer who was by, that he himself
+had originally served in that arm. The
+introduction to the eight lieutenants of the
+ship, not one of whom could speak a single
+word of French, was sufficiently ridiculous; they
+were drawn up in line on one side of the cabin;
+and after gazing and smiling for a moment on
+Napoleon, who, in his turn, gazed and smiled
+at them, they bowed and defiled before him out
+of the cabin door. The after-cabin on board
+the <i>Northumberland</i> was not, as on the <i>Bellerophon</i>,
+the private room wherein Napoleon was not to
+be intruded upon by any unbidden guest, but
+was shared equally by the admiral and his
+friends; a small cabin being besides appropriated
+for the sole accommodation of the ex-Emperor,
+and elegantly furnished, the toilet being of
+silver, and the bed linen of exquisite fineness.
+The party were also permitted to supply themselves
+from shore with any articles they might
+desire wherewith to add to their comfort and
+amusement, a permission of which they availed
+themselves by purchasing a billiard-table, an
+immense supply of playing-cards, chessmen, &amp;c.,
+besides a number of the best books in the English
+language.</p>
+
+<p>After waiting for the <i>Weymouth</i> storeship
+and some other vessels destined to complete the
+miniature squadron, the whole finally sailed out
+of Tor Bay on Friday the 11th of August; and
+Napoleon passed away from the shores of Europe
+to end his days in exile on a solitary rock in
+the Atlantic.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="GEORGE_HANNAYS_LOVE_AFFAIR">GEORGE HANNAY’S LOVE AFFAIR.</h2></div>
+
+
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.—DISENCHANTMENT.</h3>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Fortune</span> seemed to smile on Alfred’s London
+enterprise. He called personally on the editors
+of several of the society magazines and journals.
+‘A Summer Ramble in Kirkcudbright’ was now
+in all the glory of print; and when he assured
+the editors that he was really the ‘Ariel’ who
+penned the sketch, he found them willing,
+nay, anxious to look over the manuscripts he
+left with them. The letter from the <i>Olympic</i>
+accepting the manuscript and inclosing so handsome
+an honorarium was of great help to him.
+Mr Hannay had a reputation for ‘discovering’
+talent, and his protégés hardly ever failed in
+taking some rank in the profession. He got four
+or five accepted at fairly remunerative prices.
+Then he was proposed at a minor literary club,
+and passed the ballot. As a new contributor to
+the <i>Olympic</i>, he ranked well there among his
+brother scribes, who looked on him as a rising
+man, and one whose good opinion was worth
+courting. These new friends indeed treated him
+with great cordiality, and made him as one of
+themselves; some even going the length of
+borrowing from him small sums of money.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this all. One of the members, the
+sub-editor of a Sunday paper, volunteered to
+introduce him to London ‘society.’ Behold our
+friend, then, at a grand reception at Mrs
+Judson’s. This lady was the widow of a
+wealthy London pawnbroker (financial agent
+she preferred the lost one to be called). Her
+sole ambition in life was to secure a following
+of literary ‘stars,’ even if they were of
+infinitesimal magnitude; and in her circle, ‘Ariel’
+appeared as one of the first. His handsome
+figure and genial manners constituted him a
+great favourite with the ladies; and his presence
+was eagerly sought for at all these little
+reunions which compose the ‘fringe’ of London
+literary and artistic society. He found this kind
+of life both pleasant and profitable; for he was
+brought in contact with many editors and proprietors
+of third and fourth rate periodicals,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_682">{682}</span>and was able to dispose of half his rejected
+manuscripts among them, with fairly satisfactory
+pecuniary results to himself.</p>
+
+<p>His banker now held one or two hundred
+pounds to his credit, and he began to look
+upon the success of his literary venture as
+<i>un fait accompli</i>. There was just one little
+thing that annoyed him: his newly found
+literary friends were extremely solicitous to
+know when his further productions would
+appear in the <i>Olympic</i>. This was a poser, for
+he had not the least idea himself. He got
+out of the difficulty, however, by saying that
+the principal editor being on the continent, there
+would be nothing definitely arranged until his
+return. As will be remembered, Nan’s restrictions
+did not prevent him from contributing to
+the <i>Olympic</i> in his own name; so, immediately
+after his arrival in London, he set to work and
+wrote a sketch called ‘Student Life in Brussels.’
+The manuscript was duly sent, and duly
+returned in a few days with a printed note
+indicating the editor’s regret at being unable
+to make use of the paper. This was discouraging;
+but then he reflected that taste in
+literary things was very fickle; so he wrote a
+heavy article on Fair Trade, and sent it on; but
+the result was the same.</p>
+
+<p>About this time, he heard that Mr Hannay
+had gone to St Petersburg with a friend
+to enjoy the winter festivities of the gay
+northern capital. As he was not expected
+home for two or three months, Alfred had a
+good excuse till then for the non-appearance
+of any further work of his in the <i>Olympic</i>.
+In the meantime he gave himself up to the
+charming gaieties and pleasant little dissipations
+of the circle that had made quite a lion of him.
+He rather liked the homage these people paid
+him; true, they were mentally his inferiors, he
+thought; but then they had money, position,
+and influence, and might be made useful to
+him in the future. He began to think—sometimes
+with a feeling bordering on regret—of
+his engagement to the innkeeper’s daughter.
+How much better he could do now, if he were
+free! However, he would be true to his
+engagement. Only, Nan must be reasonable,
+and wait; at the end of two or three years,
+when his name was famous and his position
+thoroughly assured, he would marry her. To
+do so now would be extremely prejudicial to
+his interests, and must not be thought of for
+a moment. O no; she must wait patiently
+till it suited his convenience; and wouldn’t she
+gladly do so? Of course, for wasn’t the girl
+madly in love with him?</p>
+
+<p>And what about Nan? Well, things were
+going on in their usual jog-trot course at
+Lochenbreck. The winter was their dull season,
+and she had plenty of time at her disposal,
+which she employed in sewing, reading, practising
+her music, and occasionally taking part in the
+quiet social gatherings of her country neighbours.
+She was, of course, delighted to hear of her lover’s
+success in London. ‘Well, after all,’ she thought,
+‘he seems to have known best.’ Then she
+thought smilingly of the time when he would be
+coming to claim the fulfilment of her promise;
+and she hoped she could induce him to spend
+part of the year at least at Lochenbreck. The
+parting with her father was the only drawback
+in her fair future; and she hoped this might
+be partially at least averted. She sometimes
+thought of her old and trusted friend the editor,
+and a shadow would come over her countenance
+for a moment. It passed quickly away, however,
+for she never thought but that he had long since
+forgotten her, amid the gaieties of the continent
+and his literary pursuits; for though far from
+London, he still held the editorial reins and
+wrote his usual articles for the <i>Olympic</i>.</p>
+
+<p>This pleasant, tranquil state of matters lasted
+for some weeks. Her lover still corresponded
+regularly with her; but his letters began to get
+shorter, and were, perhaps, not quite so profuse
+and warm in their amatory expressions. Then
+after a bit they came more irregularly and
+seldomer. Still Nan paid no heed to what
+another maiden might have taken as indications
+of their lover’s failing allegiance. Hers was a
+happy, contented disposition, with no morbid
+desire to conjure up possible future evils. She
+loved Alfred sincerely, and with all the warmth
+and fervour of a girl’s first love. That he had
+failings, her strong, keen sense showed her plainly
+enough; but then he was only a fallible mortal
+like herself and other people. She was not blind
+to the vanity he displayed in writing to her
+about his social triumphs. If there was anything
+that troubled her, it was the frequent
+references he made to Mrs Judson. She resented
+the control which this woman seemed to have
+acquired over her lover’s doings. True, the widow
+was almost old enough to be his mother, and had
+been very kind to him; but a man should have
+a mind of his own, and hold his future in his
+own hands; if he did consult with any one, it
+should be with her who was soon to be his
+wife.</p>
+
+<p>Things went on in this fashion for some time
+longer, and Nan began to feel a vague, chilling
+feeling in her heart that all was not as it
+should be between Alfred and herself. She was
+scarcely prepared, however, for a letter she received
+from him one morning after a longer silence than
+usual. It was dated from a Sir Hew Crayton’s
+shooting-lodge down in Essex. The high-born
+though impecunious—and, if the truth must be
+told, rather disreputable—baronet had been a
+client of the late Mr Judson, and was heavily indebted
+to his widow. He was a constant attender
+at her house, and it was there Alfred had formed
+his acquaintance. Nan smiled when she saw
+the ostentatious way he dated the blazoned note-paper
+from Crayton Lodge. Before she finished
+reading, however, her eyebrows became knit, and
+an angry frown settled on her whilom smiling
+visage. The letter commenced by saying that as
+he felt rather out of sorts with his protracted
+course of social enjoyments, he had accepted his
+friend Sir Hew Crayton’s kind invitation to spend
+a few days’ pheasant-shooting with him down in
+Essex. Then he gave a general account of what
+he had been doing since he last wrote—the dinner-parties,
+balls, routs, conversaziones, and what not
+he had been at; the compliments that had been
+paid him, and the pleasing prophecies of the
+grand future before him which flattering tongues
+had whispered in his ears. All this she read
+with an amused smile. But near the end she
+came to a paragraph which ran as follows: ‘Do
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_683">{683}</span>you know, Nan, I have got a splendid chance of
+making my fortune just now? A young lady
+with twenty thousand pounds in her own right
+has fallen in love with me! I was introduced
+to her at an afternoon tea at Mrs Judson’s.
+Of course, I made myself agreeable enough,
+but I never thought she would have taken
+my little civilities so seriously. Yet she did so.
+Mrs Judson gave me a plain hint to that
+effect, and I then had to tell her about our
+engagement, and that such a thing was impossible.
+She was surprised, and advised me strongly to
+keep the thing secret, as, if it were known, it
+would damage my prospects greatly in society,
+and even in my profession. She has an excellent
+knowledge of the world, Mrs Judson, and has been
+very kind to me; her idea is, that we should
+not think of getting married for two or three
+years yet. By that time I will be in an assured
+position, able to marry any one I like, and not
+care a pin what the world says.’</p>
+
+<p>Nan could scarce believe her eyes. Who was
+this Mrs Judson who had thrust herself between
+them? And did the prospective ‘not caring a
+pin what the world said about marrying her,’
+mean that he was afraid and ashamed to marry
+her <i>now</i>? The very thought brought the hot
+blood tumultuously to her cheeks. Her impulse
+was to write breaking off the engagement at once;
+however, when the first burst of natural indignation
+was past, her practical good sense asserted
+itself, and she wrote a short note, requesting
+him to hasten down to Lochenbreck, as something
+of the most vital importance to them both
+had to be at once decided. This she posted,
+and awaited her lover’s arrival—with impatience
+certainly—but not of a pleasing kind.</p>
+
+<p>When Alfred got the letter, he was a little
+startled. Justly enough, he attributed it to something
+he had said in his last epistle to her; and
+in going over its contents in his mind, he had
+no difficulty in fixing on the paragraph just
+quoted as being the cause of offence. ‘Poor Nan!’
+he thought. ‘A case of jealousy, I suppose—the
+twenty-thousand-pounds young lady. How ridiculous
+of her! Didn’t I say the thing was impossible!
+However, I must run down and see her.
+A kiss, a caress, and a few soft words, will put
+her all right. Really, now, I do like Nan; and
+I’ll make things all right for her one of these
+days. But she must have patience: she forgets
+what a sacrifice I am making, all for her sake.
+To marry an innkeeper’s daughter! when, I may
+say, I have the pick and choice of the eligibles
+of London society, seems like lunacy. Oh, but
+I’ll be true to her, all the same! But she
+must learn her position; give up any selfish
+ideas of an early foolish marriage, and learn to
+wait patiently till it suits my convenience and
+interest.’</p>
+
+<p>He arrived at Lochenbreck railway station by
+the morning express. The wagonette was there
+to meet him, but no Nan. He jumped in; and
+whirling through the keen frosty air, cracking
+jokes with the driver the while, he arrived in
+excellent spirits at the little old-fashioned inn.
+To Nan’s great relief, her father had gone to
+Castle Douglas market; she hated ‘scenes’ of
+any kind and under any circumstances; but she
+thought she could bear the one before her better,
+if her father was not present and was never to
+hear of it afterwards. After having dinned
+the praises of his prospective son-in-law in his
+ears for months, how could she now turn round
+and say she had discovered him to be a vain,
+conceited, selfish coxcomb? She had little hope
+of this interview putting matters right between
+them, and, to be prepared for the worst, had
+collected all his letters—all the little nicknacks
+he had given her—and parcelled them up ready
+to hand to him.</p>
+
+<p>She submitted gravely and coldly to the customary
+salute with which he greeted her, and
+led the way to the coffee-room, where breakfast
+lay ready for him. In the occasional presence
+of the waiting-girl, private conversation was impossible;
+so he rattled on in an agreeable manner
+about his experiences in London, giving brilliant
+sketches of the varied private and public entertainments
+in which he had participated. Nan
+listened with lady-like composure, putting in an
+occasional word; and when the meal was over
+they retired to the private parlour. They sat
+down opposite to each other, and then Anne
+commenced her invective. She pointed out that
+he had deliberately chosen literature as a profession,
+and having gained a slight success, was now
+idling away his time in London, among a set
+of people who could do him no good, and who
+were, she thought, but of very doubtful reputation.</p>
+
+<p>‘Wrong there, Nan!’ he interrupted. ‘I admit
+I don’t quite move in the inner circle. Still the
+people I know seem to have plenty of money,
+and are respectable enough; and I find them
+useful. I meet with journalists among them, and
+have been able to dispose of a good many of
+my manuscripts. And you would notice I was
+staying for a few days with Sir Hew Crayton.
+Now, you know it does a literary man a deal
+of good—in public estimation—to be taken notice
+of by a baronet.’</p>
+
+<p>‘I am sorry to hear you talking in that way,’
+she replied sadly, ‘for it shows me your vanity
+has got the better of your good sense. Do you
+not see it was entirely through your article appearing
+in the <i>Olympic</i> that you got your rejected
+manuscripts disposed of? As for your baronet,
+I don’t think you need boast of him. He stayed
+with us for a month, four years ago, and left
+without paying his bill. Papa made inquiry
+about him, and found he made a swindling living
+by lending his name as director to bogus Limited
+Companies. Likely he would borrow money from
+you?’</p>
+
+<p>Alfred was forced to admit that he had obliged
+him with a loan.</p>
+
+<p>‘Now, Alfred,’ she continued gravely, ‘I have
+decidedly made up my mind that it would be
+better for us both that our engagement should
+come to an end. If you continue in the life
+you are leading, I have no hope for your future;
+but even if you were successful, I could never
+marry you. Doubtless, you would expect me to
+mix with your new friends; that I could never
+do—if they are like what you describe them—and
+certain unhappiness would be the result.
+It is well for us both I have come to know
+this in time.’</p>
+
+<p>This was different sort of talk from what he
+had come to hear. It was tears and entreaties
+for their immediate union which he had expected.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_684">{684}</span>Still his vanity blinded him to the true import
+of her words. She had said she never could
+mix with his new friends; well, it was but proper
+modesty for her to say that. He would reassure
+her on that score, and all would be well yet.</p>
+
+<p>‘My dear Nan, I think you are talking a little
+hastily. No doubt you would feel a little awkward
+among the London ladies at first, but that
+would soon pass away. And Mrs Judson promised
+me to chaperon you a bit, and’——</p>
+
+<p>‘I wish to hear nothing more, sir, about Mrs
+Judson,’ she answered curtly.</p>
+
+<p>‘Well, Nan, she’s a good friend of yours. I
+told her all about our little affair. She said
+of course it would be a great sacrifice on my
+part; but she applauded my intention of acting
+honourably towards you, even although you were
+only an innkeeper’s daughter. Of course, it may
+be two or three years before I’——</p>
+
+<p>‘Stop!’ she cried, rising to her feet, her lips
+quivering and her cheeks as pale as death—‘stop,
+sir! I did not send for you here to insult me.
+Surely I have spoken plainly enough; but your
+head is so stuffed with selfish vanity, you cannot
+comprehend me. Our engagement is at an end.
+Here are all your letters and presents! You’ll
+return mine when you get to London.—Now,
+go!’</p>
+
+<p>As she said the last words, she drew herself
+up to her full height and pointed to the door.
+The action was perhaps a little theatrical; but
+when he looked at her white set face and flashing
+eyes, he saw plainly enough that she was acting
+no part. He fancied he had never seen her looking
+so handsome before; and he felt a sinking
+at his heart at the thought of having by his
+foolish letters and talk lost for ever this woman.</p>
+
+<p>‘You—you—are—angry just now, Nan. Do
+take time to’——</p>
+
+<p>‘Go!’ she repeated firmly, her hand still pointing
+to the door. Her face was marble in its
+inflexibility; he knew his doom was sealed.
+Making a poor show of indifferent self-possession,
+he rose and quitted the room.</p>
+
+<p>When he was fairly gone, Nan broke down
+entirely. Shutting herself up in her bedroom,
+she made use of the safety-valve provided by
+nature for her sex, and had a thoroughly good
+cry. Next morning, she was calm and self-possessed,
+although her eyes were red and heavy
+looking. Her cherished idol had crumbled into
+dust; and it became her, she thought, as a
+prudent damsel to sweep away the smallest trace
+of it from her heart.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="LONDON_CHARITY_ORGANISATION">LONDON CHARITY ORGANISATION
+SOCIETY.</h2></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Society for Organising Charitable Relief and
+Repressing Mendicity, or, as it is popularly called,
+the Charity Organisation Society, has for its
+object the scientific supervision of charity dispensation,
+in the deep-rooted conviction that slovenly
+and indiscriminate almsgiving is a most pernicious
+bane to society, and calculated to foster rather
+than diminish indigence. Personal inquiry is
+the keynote of the Society’s mode of operation.
+Trained, experienced, and apt persons—both
+honorary and paid—exhaustively investigate all
+cases of indigence brought under the Society’s
+notice. In each instance, one important point
+is established at the outset of the investigation,
+namely, whether the individual concerned must
+of necessity—through physical or other disability—habitually
+depend for sustenance upon the
+resources of others, or whether he or she possesses
+the latent means of self-support, which may be
+brought into action—under the fostering influence
+of personal guidance in moral and material things—after
+the temporary condition of poverty has
+been met by the judicious application of charity.
+Cases of the former description are relegated to
+the action of the poor-law—therein lying its
+true function; cases of the latter kind are taken
+in hand by the Society. But its action is not
+that of an individual charitable institution concerned
+merely with the distribution of its own
+resources. It acts as an intermediary between
+those who need charity and those who are anxious
+to devote money to charitable purposes. Hence,
+in the discharge of its functions, it places itself
+in connection both with benevolent individuals
+and benevolent bodies, seeking to secure the best
+relief for the different cases of destitution which
+come under its notice and at the same time to
+prevent ‘overlapping’ in charity dispensation.
+Where, however, it finds that a case of destitution
+cannot effectively be relieved from other sources,
+the Society brings its own funds into requisition.
+As to its function of ‘repressing mendicity,’ this
+it discharges by promoting the detection and
+prosecution of impostors.</p>
+
+<p>And now for a word or two about the mechanism,
+if we may so call it, of the Society. The
+organisation consists of a federation of forty district
+committees—one or more being established
+in each of the poor-law divisions of London—and
+of a Central Council, at which every committee
+is represented. The committees comprise, where
+it is possible, ministers of religion, guardians of
+the poor, and representatives of the principal
+local charities. Their function is to receive,
+investigate, and deal, according to the general principles
+of the Society, with all cases of alleged
+want or distress referred to them; and each
+is intended to form a common meeting-place—a
+centre of information and charitable work—for
+persons in the district desirous of benefiting
+the poor. The Central Council supervises besides
+endeavouring to strengthen and consolidate the
+work of the district committees, taking into consideration,
+as well, all questions of principle and
+all matters relating to the general action of the
+Society. Of course the scene of the Society’s
+main operations is the metropolitan poor-law
+district; but it is glad to give general assistance,
+by sending information to agencies outside that
+area. We may add that the example set by the
+Society has given birth to many foreign and
+provincial organisations of identical aims and
+action.</p>
+
+<p>It may be interesting to glance briefly at the
+broad method of investigation pursued by the
+inquiry officers—be they paid or honorary—of
+the Society. In treating a family, then,
+the following facts are in the first place arrived
+at: The ages of the parents; the amount of
+their earnings at the time of application and
+previously; the cause of their leaving their last
+employment; the ages of their children; and
+whether those children go to school (and if so,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_685">{685}</span>where)—or, if they are employed, what they earn.
+The previous addresses, with the references of the
+family, are next learned; and it is ascertained
+whether they belong to a club or have relatives
+who ought to assist them. Then inquiry is made
+as to whether the family have any debts hanging
+over them; what their rent is; how they are
+obtaining a living at the time of application; and,
+finally, how they think they can be thoroughly
+helped. Subsequently, it is the inquiry officer’s
+duty, among other things, to ascertain for himself
+the cause of the family’s distress, verifying the
+information they have supplied to him; to search
+out the best mode of helping; to familiarise himself
+with the character of the family, and find on
+whom, if its natural head be weak or incompetent,
+reliance can be placed to re-establish the family
+fortunes; and, lastly, to settle what means of
+future thrift and self-support can be fostered
+into life.</p>
+
+<p>Did space permit, we should like to give some
+characteristic examples of instances where the
+indigent have been raised to a state of independence
+by the well-advised action of the Society,
+and tell how the workhouse itself has been made
+to yield material with which to work so happy a
+transformation. Some reference, too, would be
+justified to the numerous special questions in
+connection with which the Society has seen cause
+to take action. But we have said enough perhaps
+to effect our immediate purpose and indicate
+the nature of the Society and the scope of its
+operations. A considerable literature has grown
+around the Charity Organisation Society, and
+this is accessible to all who visit the central office
+of the institution, 15 Buckingham Street, Adelphi,
+London, whither all communications to the
+Secretary, Mr C. L. Loch, should be addressed.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DENSCHMANS_HAD">THE DENSCHMAN’S HAD.</h2>
+<p class="ph3">A LEGEND OF SHETLAND.</p></div>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">From</span> Widwick to Hermaness the cliffs rise
+steep and high from a deep ocean, so deep that
+a large ship might float alongside of the crags
+without danger of scraping her keel. What
+would be the fate of such a vessel, if she were
+carried by the might of that sea against that
+iron wall, I leave you to imagine. The rocks
+are broken all along their range by fissures and
+caves, inaccessible from the land, and scarcely
+approachable from the sea. He is a bold voyager
+who brings even a boat to thread the ‘baas’
+and ‘stacks’—submerged rocks and needle-crags—which
+guard the way to those haunts of sea-fowl
+and seals. One of the caves is named the
+Denschman’s Had. I ought to explain that a
+‘had’ means the den of a wild beast, his stronghold;
+and ‘Denschman’ is ‘Dane.’</p>
+
+<p>In old days, Shetland (or Hialtland) was
+nothing more than a ‘had’ of vikinger, those
+pirates of the North who have so often been
+confounded with the noble sea-kings of Scandinavia;
+but while the islands belonged to Norway,
+their inhabitants were under powerful protection,
+and suffered little inconvenience from
+the uses to which the sea-rovers turned the
+sheltered voes and secluded islets. It was only
+when Scottish rule came in that the vikinger
+of Norway and Denmark turned their weapons
+against their brother-Norsemen of the Shetland
+Isles. During the times of the Stuarts, Scotland
+had enough to do to look after itself, far less
+to extend protection to an outlying dependency
+that was more plague than profit. Indeed, the
+Scottish kings and nobles seem to have regarded
+Hialtland as fair game, and robbed and oppressed
+the people after as cruel a method as that of
+the northern pirates. Between the two, those
+islands had a hot time of it; and the islanders,
+once a prosperous community, sank into poverty
+and hopeless serfdom.</p>
+
+<p>About the time of Mary Stuart, the isle of
+Unst was harassed by a noted viking whose
+name and lineage were unknown. He and his
+daring crew were believed to be Danes, and
+his swift barque—appropriately named the <i>Erne</i>—and
+his stalwart person were familiar to
+the affrighted eyes of the islanders. When the
+Denschman swooped upon the isle, its inhabitants
+fled to the hills and rocks, leaving their
+homes as spoil for the lawless rover. What
+else could they do? The enemy were strong,
+reckless, brave, well armed and well disciplined.
+The islanders, groaning and disheartened under
+the yoke of an alien power, were at the mercy
+of might, and could neither resist nor make
+treaty; so the Denschman came and went like
+the fierce bird of prey whose name his vessel
+bore, and no man dared oppose him.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>One midsummer evening, a westerly squall
+arose which sent the fishing-boats flying to the
+shelter of their voes and vicks. Those storms
+rise and fall with tropical rapidity and violence.
+Six hours after it was at its height, the wind
+had fallen to an ordinary fresh breeze, the sky
+was smiling as before, and only the wrathful
+surf, rolling white and broken under the influence
+of a changing tide, remained to tell of the
+tempest. All the boats had returned in safety,
+and there should have been rejoicing in Unst;
+but instead, men frowned and women trembled,
+for the fishers had brought news that the
+Denschman was on the coast: his well-known
+sail had been seen hovering beyond the holms
+of Gloup; he was coming upon the wings of
+the westerly wind; he would be on the Westing
+Bicht ere long. There was no landing-place
+available—with such a heavy sea—on that side
+of the island; but the Denschman knew what
+he was about, doubtless. He would scud to the
+nor’ard, fly round the Flugga skerries and Skau,
+would lay-to, and bide his time till dusk drew
+down; then he would alight on the eastern
+shore, and work his wild will upon the defenceless
+isle. Such had been his tactics aforetime.
+The people ran to the high lands of Vaalafiel
+and Patester to mark the Denschman’s course,
+for where he meant to land, <i>there</i> they must
+not be.</p>
+
+<p>Soon the <i>Erne</i> was descried emerging from a
+mist of spindrift, and bearing swiftly towards
+Unst, heading straight for the isle, and not—as
+the folk had supposed—skirting the coast.
+Did the vikinger mean to bring their vessel to
+harbour among those crags, where the sea was
+in such a turmoil? Was the <i>Erne</i> a demon-ship
+that could dare everything and perform such a
+feat? On he came right before the wind with
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_686">{686}</span>a following tide; but when well in the Westing
+Bicht, some experienced seamen affirmed that
+there must be something wrong aboard, for the
+<i>Erne</i> did not rise on the waves with its usual
+buoyancy; he seemed to plunge madly forward,
+as if in fierce conflict with the ocean he had
+ruled so long. By-and-by it was seen that the
+vessel laboured more and more, yet carried full
+sail, as if on speed depended salvation.</p>
+
+<p>‘I would not say but he’s sprung a leak, or
+the like,’ said an old udaller among the onlookers.
+‘Who but a madman would bring a ship
+in-shore like yon, if all was taut aboard!’</p>
+
+<p>‘That is so,’ remarked a seaman. ‘Without
+doubt, he’s in straits; and he’s going to try to
+beach on the Aire of Widwick. It’s his only
+chance, and a poor one.’</p>
+
+<p>‘Pray the powers he may not make the Aire,’
+replied the old man; ‘and I’m thinking,’ he
+added, ‘that the powers will hear us. There
+is something fatal amiss with that evil one.
+See yon! He’s not obeying his helm; he’s
+just driving with wind and tide. He’s in a
+mighty strait, praise the Lord!’</p>
+
+<p>‘If he misses the Aire, he’ll go in <i>shallmillens</i>
+[the fragments of eggshell] upon the baas of
+Flübersgerdie,’ said a fisherman, with a grim
+smile; and all cried out: ‘Pray the powers it
+may be so!’</p>
+
+<p>As if the powers thus invoked were ready to
+prove their immediate willingness to answer the
+cry of the oppressed, the wind veered more to
+the west, and carried the disabled ship against
+the holm of Widwick, a small islet which lies
+off the creek, and wards from it the full force
+of the North Atlantic. If the <i>Erne</i> had stranded
+on the holm, some of his crew might have
+effected a landing there; but that was not the
+end of the viking’s barque; she reeled back from
+the holm with a gash in her side that was a
+death-wound indeed, and drifted onwards once
+more. Now, would she gain the creek? No!
+In a few moments the <i>Erne</i> was carried past
+the little harbour, where lay the sole chance
+of deliverance, and then crashed among the rocks
+of Flübersgerdie.</p>
+
+<p>‘Praise to the powers that are above all!’ cried
+the men of Unst, and even gentle-hearted women
+rejoiced as the Denschman, barque and crew, disappeared
+among the breakers.</p>
+
+<p>The people returned to their homes, happy in
+the thought that the rocks of Fatherland had
+proved able protectors, and that Unst was for
+ever rid of its most dreaded foe.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Two days and two nights passed. No trace of
+the storm was left. A boat put off from Widwick
+with the intention of saving such portions of the
+<i>Erne</i> as would certainly be drifting among the
+skerries near Flübersgerdie. The men could tell
+by the state of the tides and the wind exactly
+where the wreckage was to be found, and they
+made for the spot, never doubting that some spoil
+would be there to reward them. As they
+approached the submerged reef where the <i>Erne</i>
+finished her career, the skipper, alluding to the
+dreaded Denschman, said: ‘Well did he deserve
+what he met here! Think our isle would give
+him foothold!—our isle, that he has harried this
+ten year and more! No, no!’</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely were the words spoken, when one of
+the fishermen called out excitedly: ‘Lord be
+about us, men, what’s yon?’—and he pointed to
+a cave situated in the cliff opposite the reef.</p>
+
+<p>All gazed, and were struck dumb, for, on a
+ledge within the mouth of the helyer (cave) stood
+a man—the man! the Denschman, alive, stalwart,
+terrible as ever, and brandishing his sword, as if
+defying mortal to molest him.</p>
+
+<p>The boat was instantly backed, and when the
+islanders had put what they considered a safe
+distance between themselves and their dreaded
+foeman, the men consulted together. Should
+they make a bold attack? The Denschman was
+alone; they were six in number. Surely, they
+could overpower him, tired and despairing as he
+must be. Yes. But one, or even two of their
+number were likely to fall before his sword ere
+he could be conquered. Who was patriot enough
+‘to lead such dire attack?’ No one of that crew!
+Then should they leave him to die of exhaustion,
+as he must ere long? There was no way of
+escape. The lofty precipice overhung the cave,
+precluding any scheme of climbing upwards; on
+either side, the <i>aiguille</i> crags rose from a seething
+depth of sea; in front, a reef of sunken rocks
+covered with fretful surf, dared the bravest
+swimmer that ever breasted waves to pass
+alive.</p>
+
+<p>The Denschman had evidently reached his
+present refuge by aid of a large plank belonging
+to the <i>Erne</i>, which still floated near the cave.
+When they had recovered every vestige of the
+wreck which floated, he could not escape. It
+was beyond the power of man to leave that
+cave unaided from without. Help must come
+from ropes lowered from the land above, or
+boats brought to the cave. And who was there
+in Unst would bring rope or boat to aid the
+Denschman? None!</p>
+
+<p>‘Let him die the death!’ said the men whose
+homes the viking had devastated. So they
+ventured nearer, and removed every floating spar
+or plank, then returned to Widwick; and it
+was told in the isle that the Denschman had
+survived his barque and crew only to meet a more
+terrible death. No man pitied him; no man
+dreamt of giving him succour. Those were days
+when the gentler feelings had little part in
+men’s warfare, and no red cross of healing
+followed battle ensigns to the field of fight.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, a number of boats put off, that men
+might feast their eyes on the dead or dying
+viking; and many saw him. That day, he was
+seated on the ledge of rock glowering at them;
+but he made no sign of either submission or
+defiance. ‘He grows weak,’ they said, and
+wondered that even the Denschman’s tough and
+giant frame had so long withstood the exposure
+and starvation.</p>
+
+<p>A third time the islanders sought the rocks of
+Flübersgerdie and saw the pirate chief as before.
+Then they began to fear, and to say that he must
+be allied to potent powers of evil; for how, otherwise,
+could he have survived there so long? The
+interior of the helyer could be seen from a little
+distance: no food or clothing had been saved
+from the wreck to be secreted there. The
+prisoner was always seen sitting on the cold
+bare ledge where he had been first discovered,
+and the people were satisfied that the cave held
+no means of sustenance.</p>
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_687">{687}</span></p>
+<p>Day by day for a whole fortnight boats were
+guided to Flübersgerdie, and men gazed in awe,
+but did not venture to molest the Denschman,
+who merely returned their stare with haughty
+glances, and never deigned to bespeak their compassion.
+Dread of the supernatural added its
+paralysing effects to the terror which the viking’s
+fame had implanted, and there was not a man
+found brave enough to attack the Denschman in
+his ‘had.’</p>
+
+<p>Then heaviness fell on the men’s spirits, for
+wives and mothers upbraided them as cowards;
+their little ones shrieked and hid their faces
+when it was told that the bugbear of their dreams
+was making his ‘had’ in an Unst helyer; and
+at last, driven by shame and a remnant of manly
+courage, the islanders determined on attacking
+their enemy. They would discover if he were
+immortal; they would prove if the powers of evil
+were above those of good.</p>
+
+<p>A fleet of boats was got ready, laden with sharp
+stones, which were to be cast at the foe—a safe
+mode of onslaught! The islanders armed themselves
+with staves and axes. Nets were prepared,
+in whose toils the Denschman should fall if he,
+by any strange chance, came to close quarters.
+The oldest udaller in the isle ordered his best
+boat to be launched and consecrated, to lead the
+attack. A day was fixed upon. It had been
+ascertained on the previous evening that the
+Denschman was still in his ‘had,’ alive and strong.
+No one doubted by that time that there he would
+remain while the island remained, if not ousted
+by force and the help of holy powers; or if not
+aided by demons to rise and blight the isle.</p>
+
+<p>‘Pray,’ said the old udaller to his three fair
+daughters, who stood to see him embark in the
+consecrated boat—‘pray that I bring the Denschman’s
+dishonoured corpse back with me.’</p>
+
+<p>‘We will pray,’ said the golden-haired maidens.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>But what consternation there was on the Aire
+of Widwick, a few minutes later, when it was
+found that the old man’s boat—the largest and
+best in the isle, the skiff that was to have led
+the attack—had disappeared! She had not sunk
+into the pellucid water, else she had been easily
+recovered; she had not floated out to sea, for the
+tide was running landwards; yet she had gone
+as completely as if she had owned feet to carry
+her over earth, or wings to fly through air. To be
+sure, the boat had both feet and wings of a kind,
+but these were of use on the ocean alone. And
+she was gone—oars and sails too! Doubtless, her
+flight had been on her native element; but some
+man’s hand must have spread her wings or moved
+her feet. Then who had stolen the udaller’s boat?
+No Hialtlander, be sure! Robbery was never
+the vice of those islanders; moreover, such a
+theft could have been brought home to a native
+easily.</p>
+
+<p>One fisherman, more acute than his neighbours,
+whispered: ‘None but the Denschman has done
+this;’ and with common assent, all echoed: ‘The
+Denschman has done this.’</p>
+
+<p>Boats instantly put off and sped to Flübersgerdie,
+where confirmation of those suspicions was
+not wanting. The Denschman was no longer in
+the cave. He had been there, hale and terrible,
+on the previous evening; he had vanished that
+morning, and left no trace behind. ‘It must
+have been the Evil One himself,’ said the folk;
+and there was gloom in the isle, trembling, and
+much fear, for all expected that ere long the
+Denschman would descend upon Unst, and, fired
+by revenge, deal worse havoc than even that of
+former days.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>But days and weeks went past, and nothing
+further was known of the Denschman or the
+udaller’s boat, and still the people feared their
+ancient foe and looked for his return. None
+doubted that he survived. The man who could
+live in unabated vigour through a fortnight without
+food or fire in a dark ocean cave, who could
+find means of leaving his prison, and could spirit
+away a large boat—such a one was not likely
+to have perished on the sea. Yes, without doubt,
+the Denschman would return to Unst; ‘and
+heaven help us when he comes!’ said the
+islanders.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Then it happened one autumn afternoon that
+a stranger vessel was seen, on the Westing Bicht,
+making tacks for the isle. The people had always
+cause to suspect an unknown sail, and they
+watched the stranger’s approach with some fear.
+As he drew nearer, it was observed that he closely
+resembled the <i>Erne</i> of old, but carried the white
+flag of peace. The Norland pirates ever scorned
+to conceal their true character, which was never a
+treacherous one, but flaunted their ruthless blood-red
+colours in the face of day. If a viking hoisted
+the white banner, he meant peace; and so well
+was this known, and so thoroughly could all men
+trust in the good faith of a viking, that the
+islanders instantly sent off a boat to the vessel,
+though they suspected it was a pirate ship. The
+stranger had a boat in tow, and when the islanders
+came near, he lay-to and allowed them to come
+alongside of his convoy. What was the fishermen’s
+astonishment to find that the boat was no
+other than that of the Unst udaller!</p>
+
+<p>Then a stern voice spoke from the ship.
+‘Come not nearer,’ it said, in a patois half-Danish,
+half-English, which the Hialtlanders
+could interpret well enough. ‘Come not nearer;
+but undo the tow-line, and take that boat to
+its owner. It is freighted with goodly gifts for
+the udaller’s three fair daughters, who will know
+whence those tokens come.—And know, ye hinds
+of Unst, that ye owe your lives and all that
+makes life precious to the golden-haired maidens.—Begone!’
+Then the speaker—easily recognised
+as the Denschman—made imperious sign to his
+mariners, who speedily put the vessel on another
+tack, and before many minutes he was running
+out to sea again.</p>
+
+<p>The islanders towed the laden boat ashore,
+where a throng was waiting their return. Numerous
+questions were asked, numerous conjectures
+made. The udaller and his daughters were
+summoned and the precious cargo displayed.
+Table utensils of silver, personal ornaments of
+gold, silken stuffs and snowy linens, rich wines
+and fruits, and precious grain, whatever could
+please feminine taste, were spread before the
+wondering people, while the three sisters stood
+mute and blushing, now cowering with strange
+shame, anon glancing with curious pride at all
+around.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, their old father addressed them in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_688">{688}</span>grave and troubled tones: ‘Tell us the meaning
+of this strange <i>güdic</i> [riddle].’</p>
+
+<p>At that, the two younger girls fell on their
+knees and clasped his hands entreatingly, while
+the eldest sister cried: ‘O father, do not be
+angered, and I will tell ye all. We heard you
+speak of the Denschman in his sore strait with
+nobody to pity him. It’s true he had dealt
+cruelly by our isle; but—but, O father, it lay
+heavy on our hearts that a man—and such a
+man, with such a goodly presence and such a
+bold spirit—should die like an otter trapped in
+a snare; and so, we—we went to the rock in
+the dark hour of nicht, and we lowered a <i>keschie</i>
+[basket] to him with food and cordials and clothes—everything
+to keep in life. And then—when we
+knew that our men meant to stone the poor
+defenceless captive to death, our souls were
+melted with pity; so we took the boat and
+helped him to escape. <i>We</i> were not afraid
+of the Denschman; and, truth to tell, he
+can be kind and gentle like other men. Or
+ere he left the isle—all in the mirk hour—he
+promised that, because of what we had done,
+he would never harry Unst again. No doubt,
+it was wrong of us, father; but then, oh, be
+mindful that the plight he was in could not
+fail to touch lasses’ hearts. And if good instead
+of harm come of it—nay, <i>has</i> come of it—ye
+need not trouble yourself more, but forgive us,
+and trust the Denschman to keep his word. He
+will do so. We all know that a viking stands
+to his promise, whate’er betide.’</p>
+
+<p>‘The lass has spoken words of wisdom,’ said
+a prudent matron, eyeing the viking’s royal
+gifts; and a laughing seaman added: ‘Ay, and
+what would come of us poor men if lasses were
+not pitiful, and not just altogether wise at
+times!’</p>
+
+<p>So the old udaller forgave his daughters, and—as
+legend says—‘after that Unst was often benefited,
+and never more harried, by the Denschman,’
+whose ‘had’ is still pointed out to the
+inquiring stranger.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak smalltext" id="AN_ELECTRICAL_FURNACE">AN ELECTRICAL FURNACE.</h2></div>
+
+
+<p>Some of the enormous power which runs waste
+at the Falls of Niagara is about to be utilised at
+last, and, strangely enough, the first work required
+of the water will be the smelting of refractory
+ores. This new undertaking is to be carried
+out by the Cowles Electrical Furnace Company,
+the inventors of the process being Messrs Eugene
+H. and Alfred H. Cowles. Their experimental
+works at Cleveland, Ohio, have been so successful,
+that they were awarded the John Scott
+premium and the Elliot Cresson medal of the
+Franklin Institute. While labouring under various
+disadvantages, the Company was yet able
+to produce metallic combinations that promise
+to be of great importance, such as aluminium
+bronze, aluminium silver, aluminium brass, and
+silicon bronze in ingots, castings, wire, and rolled
+metal. Some of these alloys were manufactured
+into different articles in every-day use. They
+exhibited screws of aluminium brass; knives
+with blades of aluminium silver, and handles of
+aluminium bronze; together with a number of
+other manufactured articles. Aluminium bronze
+is stronger than steel, is not so liable to rust,
+and, being elastic and ductile, if it can be produced
+at a cheap enough rate, it should have a
+great future before it. For instance, cycles made
+of it would be lighter, stronger, and more easily
+kept clean than those made of steel. This industry
+alone should create a large demand.
+Silicon bronze, also, from its electric conductivity,
+tensile strength, lightness, and non-corrosiveness,
+will be a desirable substitute for iron and copper
+in telegraphy; while aluminium silver—an alloy
+containing the special bronze with nickel—will
+be serviceable for cutlery and fancy articles.
+Pure aluminium, however, has this great disadvantage,
+that it tarnishes readily, and unless
+something can be done to remedy the defect, its
+usefulness will be considerably restricted. At
+the same time, these alloys bid fair to supplant
+steel and other metals in the manufacture of
+light articles where strength and appearance are
+desirable.</p>
+
+<p>A dynamo larger than any yet constructed is
+at present being made for the Company at
+Lockport, New York. As already stated, it
+will be driven by water, acting on turbines.
+The contemplated works will, it is estimated,
+yield about three hundred thousand horse-power,
+and this only represents a fraction of the power
+that is running to waste at Niagara.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"><div class="chapter"><h2 class="nobreak" id="WHO_KNOWS">WHO KNOWS?</h2></div>
+
+
+<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poetry">
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0"><span class="smcap">I grant</span> her fair, ay, passing fair,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As lovely as a budding rose;</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">But is there soul behind that face,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">A beauty ’neath that outward grace?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Does light of love beam from those eyes?—</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">The love that in her bosom glows?</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Or is the light that lingers there</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Delusive, though it shine so fair?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Does that fair form a fairer charm,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">A tender, loving heart inclose?</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">A heart whose tendrils, like the vine,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Would round the heart that loved it twine?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">And should life’s sky be overcast,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">And gathering clouds around thee close,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Should fortune frown and false friends flee,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Would that heart still cling close to thee?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">Or is she, can she ever be,</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">As fickle as the wind that blows,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">And veers as if it were at play,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">Trifling with all who own her sway?</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="stanza"><div class="verse indent0">But why a prey to doubt remain?</div>
+<div class="verse indent2">Why halt ’twixt hope and fear?—propose.</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">She may be waiting till you dare,</div>
+<div class="verse indent0">To crown with love that beauty rare.</div>
+<div class="verse indent6">Who knows—who knows?</div></div>
+
+<div class="attrib"><span class="smcap">John Napier.</span></div>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<p class="center">Printed and Published by <span class="smcap">W. &amp; R. Chambers</span>, 47 Paternoster
+Row, <span class="smcap">London</span>, and 339 High Street, <span class="smcap">Edinburgh</span>.</p>
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i></p>
+
+<hr class="full">
+
+<p>[Transcriber’s note—the following changes have been made to this text.</p>
+
+<p>Page 676: du to de la—“l’ami de la famille”.]
+</p>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75211 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #75211 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75211)