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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Run to Earth, by M. E. Braddon
+#3 in our series by M. E. Braddon
+
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+**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Run to Earth
+       A Novel
+
+Author: M. E. Braddon
+
+Release Date: October, 2005 [EBook #9102]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on September 6, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUN TO EARTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Charlie Kirschner and Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I am in the power of a maniac" Honoria murmured.--Page
+100. Henry French, del. E. Evans, sc.]
+
+
+
+
+                              RUN TO EARTH
+
+
+                                A NOVEL
+
+
+                            BY THE AUTHOR OF
+
+
+                 "LADY AUDLEY'S SECRET," "AURORA FLOYD"
+                 "ISHMAEL," "VIXEN," "WYLLARD'S WEIRD"
+                               ETC. ETC.
+
+
+
+
+                                CONTENTS.
+
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       CHAPTER I. WARNED IN A DREAM
+      CHAPTER II. DONE IN THE DARKNESS
+     CHAPTER III. DISINHERITED
+      CHAPTER IV. OUT OF THE DEPTHS
+       CHAPTER V. "EVIL, BE THOU MY GOOD!"
+      CHAPTER VI. AULD ROBIN GRAY
+     CHAPTER VII. "O BEWARE, MY LORD, OF JEALOUSY!"
+    CHAPTER VIII. AFTER THE PIC-NIC
+      CHAPTER IX. ON YARBOROUGH TOWER
+       CHAPTER X. "HOW ART THOU LOST! HOW ON A SUDDEN LOST!"
+      CHAPTER XI. "THE WILL! THE TESTAMENT!"
+     CHAPTER XII. A FRIEND IN NEED
+    CHAPTER XIII. IN YOUR PATIENCE YE ARE STRONG
+     CHAPTER XIV. A GHOSTLY VISITANT
+      CHAPTER XV. A TERRIBLE RESOLVE
+     CHAPTER XVI. WAITING AND WATCHING
+    CHAPTER XVII. DOUBTFUL SOCIETY
+   CHAPTER XVIII. AT ANCHOR
+     CHAPTER XIX. A FAMILIAR TOKEN
+      CHAPTER XX. ON GUARD
+     CHAPTER XXI. DOWN IN DORSETSHIRE
+    CHAPTER XXII. ARCH-TRAITOR WITHIN, ARCH-PLOTTER WITHOUT
+   CHAPTER XXIII. "ANSWER ME, IF THIS BE DONE?"
+    CHAPTER XXIV. "I AM WEARY OF MY PART"
+     CHAPTER XXV. A DANGEROUS ALLIANCE
+    CHAPTER XXVI. MOVE THE FIRST
+   CHAPTER XXVII. WEAVE THE WARP, AND WEAVE THE WOOF
+  CHAPTER XXVIII. PREPARING THE GROUND
+    CHAPTER XXIX. AT WATCH
+     CHAPTER XXX. FOUND WANTING
+    CHAPTER XXXI. "A WORTHLESS WOMAN, MERE COLD CLAY"
+   CHAPTER XXXII. A MEETING AND AN EXPLANATION
+  CHAPTER XXXIII. "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST"
+   CHAPTER XXXIV. CAUGHT IN THE TOILS
+    CHAPTER XXXV. LARKSPUR TO THE RESCUE!
+   CHAPTER XXXVI. ON THE TRACK
+  CHAPTER XXXVII. "O, ABOVE MEASURE FALSE!"
+ CHAPTER XXXVIII. "THY DAY IS COME"
+   CHAPTER XXXIX. "CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH"
+      CHAPTER XL. "SO SHALL YE REAP"
+
+
+
+
+                                CHAPTER I.
+
+
+                           WARNED IN A DREAM.
+
+Seven-and-twenty years ago, and a bleak evening in March. There are
+gas-lamps flaring down in Ratcliff Highway, and the sound of squeaking
+fiddles and trampling feet in many public-houses tell of festivity
+provided for Jack-along-shore. The emporiums of slop-sellers are
+illuminated for the better display of tarpaulin coats and hats, so
+stiff of build that they look like so many sea-faring suicides, pendent
+from the low ceilings. These emporiums are here and there enlivened by
+festoons of many-coloured bandana handkerchief's; and on every pane of
+glass in shop or tavern window is painted the glowing representation of
+Britannia's pride, the immortal Union Jack.
+
+Two men sat drinking and smoking in a little parlour at the back of an
+old public-house in Shadwell. The room was about as large as a
+good-sized cupboard, and was illuminated in the day-time by a window
+commanding a pleasant prospect of coal-shed and dead wall. The paper on
+the walls was dark and greasy with age; and every bit of clumsy,
+bulging deal furniture in the room had been transformed into a kind of
+ebony by the action of time and dirt, the greasy backs and elbows of
+idle loungers, the tobacco-smoke and beer-stains of half a century.
+
+It was evident that the two men smoking and drinking in this darksome
+little den belonged to the seafaring community. In this they resembled
+each other; but in nothing else. One was tall and stalwart; the other
+was small, and wizen, and misshapen. One had a dark, bronzed face, with
+a frank, fearless expression; the other was pale and freckled, and had
+small, light-gray eyes, that shifted and blinked perpetually, and
+shifted and blinked most when he was talking with most animation. The
+first had a sonorous bass voice and a resonant laugh; the second spoke
+in suppressed tones, and had a trick of dropping his voice to a whisper
+whenever he was most energetic.
+
+The first was captain and half-owner of the brigantine 'Pizarro',
+trading between the port of London, and the coast of Mexico. The second
+was his clerk, factotum, and confidant; half-sailor, half-landsman;
+able to take the helm in dangerous weather, if need were; and able to
+afford his employer counsel in the most intricate questions of trading
+and speculation.
+
+The name of the captain was Valentine Jernam, that of his factotum
+Joyce Harker. The captain had found him in an American hospital, had
+taken compassion upon him, and had offered him a free passage home. On
+the homeward voyage, Joyce Harker had shown himself so handy a
+personage, that Captain Jernam had declined to part with him at the end
+of the cruise: and from that time, the wizen little hunchback had been
+the stalwart seaman's friend and companion. For fifteen years, during
+which Valentine Jernam and his younger brother, George, had been
+traders on the high seas, things had gone well with these two brothers;
+but never had fortune so liberally favoured their trading as during the
+four years in which Joyce Harker had prompted every commercial
+adventure, and guided every speculation.
+
+"Four years to-day, Joyce, since I first set eyes upon your face in the
+hospital at New Orleans," said Captain Jernam, in the confidence of
+this jovial hour. "'Why, the fellow's dead,' said I. 'No; he's only
+dying,' says the doctor. 'What's the matter with him?' asked I.
+'Home-sickness and empty pockets,' says the doctor; 'he was employed in
+a gaming-house in the city, got knocked on the head in some row, and
+was brought here. We've got him through a fever that was likely enough
+to have finished him; but there he lies, as weak as a starved rat. He
+has neither money nor friends. He wants to get back to England; but he
+has no more hope of ever seeing that country than I have of being
+Emperor of Mexico.' 'Hasn't he?' says I; 'we'll tell you a different
+story about that, Mr. Doctor. If you can patch the poor devil up
+between this and next Monday, I'll take him home in my ship, without
+the passage costing him sixpence.' You don't feel offended with me for
+having called you a poor devil, eh, Joyce?--for you really were, you
+know--you really were an uncommonly poor creature just then," murmured
+the captain, apologetically.
+
+"Offended with you!" exclaimed the factotum; "that's a likely thing.
+Don't I owe you my life? How many more of my countrymen passed me by as
+I lay on that hospital-bed, and left me to rot there, for all they
+cared? I heard their loud voices and their creaking boots as I lay
+there, too weak to lift my eyelids and look at them; but not too weak
+to curse them."
+
+"No, Joyce, don't say that."
+
+"But I do say it; and what's more, I mean it. I'll tell you what it is,
+captain, there's a general opinion that when a man's shoulders are
+crooked, his mind is crooked too; and that, if his poor unfortunate
+legs have shrivelled up small, his heart must have shrivelled up small
+to match 'em. I dare say there's some truth in the general opinion;
+for, you see, it doesn't improve a man's temper to find himself cut out
+according to a different pattern from that his fellow-creatures have
+been made by, and to find his fellow-creatures setting themselves
+against him because of that difference; and it doesn't soften a poor
+wretch's heart towards the world in general, to find the world in
+general harder than stone against him, for no better reason than his
+poor weak legs and his poor crooked back. But never mind talking about
+me and my feelings, captain. I ain't of so much account as to make it
+worth while for a fine fellow like you to waste words upon me. What I
+want to know is your plans. You don't intend to stop down this way, do
+you?"
+
+"Why shouldn't I?"
+
+"Because it's a dangerous way for a man who carries his fortune about
+him, as you do. I wish you'd make up your mind to bank that money,
+captain."
+
+"Not if I know it," answered the sailor, with a look of profound
+wisdom; "not if I know it, Joyce Harker. I know what your bankers are.
+You go to them some fine afternoon, and find a lot of clerks standing
+behind a bran new mahogany counter, everything bright, and shining, and
+respectable. 'Can I leave a few hundreds on deposit?' asks you. 'Why,
+of course you can,' reply they; and then you hand over your money, and
+then they hand you back a little bit of paper. 'That's your receipt,'
+say they. 'All right,' say you; and off you sheer. Perhaps you feel
+just a little bit queerish, when you get outside, to think that all
+your solid cash has been melted down into that morsel of paper; but
+being a light-hearted, easy-going fellow, you don't think any more of
+it, till you come home from your next voyage, and go ashore again, and
+want your money; when it's ten to one if you don't find your fine new
+bank shut up, and your clerks and bran-new mahogany counter vanished.
+No, Joyce, I'll trust no bankers."
+
+"I'd rather trust the bankers than the people down this way, any day in
+the week," answered the clerk, thoughtfully.
+
+"Don't you worry yourself, Joyce! The money won't be in my keeping very
+long. George is to meet me in London on the fifth of April, at the
+latest, he says, unless winds and waves are more contrary than ever
+they've been since he's had to do with them; and you know George is my
+banker. I'm only a sleeping partner in the firm of Jernam Brothers.
+George takes the money, and George does what he likes with it--puts it
+here and there, and speculates in this and speculates in that. You've
+got a business head of your own, Joyce; you're one of George's own
+sort; and you are up to all his dodges, which is more than I am.
+However, he tells me we're getting rich, and that's pleasant enough--
+not that I think I should break my heart about it if we were getting
+poor. I love the sea because it is the sea, and I love my ship for her
+own sake."
+
+"Captain George is right, though," answered the clerk. "Jernam Brothers
+are growing rich; Jernam Brothers are prospering. But you haven't told
+me your plans yet, captain."
+
+"Well, since you say I had better cut this quarter, I suppose I must;
+though I like to see the rigging above the housetops, and to hear the
+jolly voices of the sailors, and to know that the 'Pizarro' lies hard
+by in the Pool. However, there's an old aunt of mine, down in a sleepy
+little village in Devonshire, who'd be glad to see me, and none the
+worse for a small slice of Jernam Brothers' good luck; so I'll take a
+place on the Plymouth coach to-morrow morning, and go down and have a
+peep at her. You'll be able to keep a look-out on the repairs aboard of
+the 'Pizarro', and I can be back in time to meet George on the fifth."
+
+"Where are you to meet him?"
+
+"In this room."
+
+The factotum shook his head.
+
+"You're both a good deal too fond of this house," he said. "The people
+that have got it now are strangers to us. They've bought the business
+since our last trip. I don't like the look on them."
+
+"No more do I, if it comes to that. I was sorry to hear the old folks
+had been done up. But come, Joyce, some more rum-and-water. Let's
+enjoy ourselves to-night, man, if I'm to start by the first coach to-
+morrow morning. What's that?"
+
+The captain stopped, with the bell-rope in his hand, to listen to the
+sound of music close at hand. A woman's voice, fresh and clear as the
+song of a sky-lark, was singing "Wapping Old Stairs," to the
+accompaniment of a feeble old piano.
+
+"What a voice!" cried the sailor. "Why, it seems to pierce to the very
+core of my heart as I listen to it. Let's go and hear the music,
+Joyce."
+
+"Better not, captain," answered the warning voice of the clerk. "I tell
+you they're a bad lot in this house. It's a sort of concert they give
+of a night; an excuse for drunkenness, and riot, and low company. If
+you're going by the coach to-morrow, you'd better get to bed early to-
+night. You've been drinking quite enough as it is."
+
+"Drinking!" cried Valentine Jernam; "why, I'm as sober as a judge.
+Come, Joyce, let's go and listen to that girl's singing."
+
+The captain left the room, and Harker followed, shrugging his shoulders
+as he went.
+
+"There's nothing so hard to manage as a baby of thirty years old," he
+muttered; "a blessed infant that one's obliged to call master."
+
+He followed the captain, through a dingy little passage, into a room
+with a sanded floor, and a little platform at one end. The room was
+full of sailors and disreputable-looking women; and was lighted by
+several jets of coarse gas, which flared in the bleak March wind.
+
+A group of black-bearded, foreign-looking seamen made room for the
+captain and his companion at one of the tables. Jernam acknowledged
+their courtesy with a friendly nod.
+
+"I don't mind standing treat for a civil fellow like you," he said;
+"come, mates, what do you say to a bowl of punch?"
+
+The men looked at him and grinned a ready assent.
+
+Valentine Jernam called the landlord, and ordered a bowl of rum-punch.
+
+"Plenty of it, remember, and be sure you are not too liberal with the
+water," said the captain.
+
+The landlord nodded and laughed. He was a broad-shouldered,
+square-built man, with a flat, pale face, broad and square, like his
+figure--not a pleasant-looking man by any means.
+
+Valentine Jernam folded his arms on the rickety, liquor-stained table,
+and took a leisurely survey of the apartment.
+
+There was a pause in the concert just now. The girl had finished her
+song, and sat by the old square piano, waiting till she should be
+required to sing again. There were only two performers in this
+primitive species of concert--the girl who sang, and an old blind man,
+who accompanied her on the piano; but such entertainment was quite
+sufficient for the patrons of the 'Jolly Tar', seven-and-twenty years
+ago, before the splendours of modern music-halls had arisen in the
+land.
+
+Valentine Jernam's dark eyes wandered round the room, till they lighted
+on the face of the girl sitting by the piano. There they fixed
+themselves all at once, and seemed as if rooted to the face on which
+they looked. It was a pale, oval face, framed in bands of smooth black
+hair, and lighted by splendid black eyes; the face of a Roman empress
+rather than a singing-girl at a public-house in Shadwell. Never before
+had Valentine Jernam looked on so fair a woman. He had never been a
+student or admirer of the weaker sex. He had a vague kind of idea that
+there were women, and mermaids, and other dangerous creatures, lurking
+somewhere in this world, for the destruction of honest men; but beyond
+this he had very few ideas on the subject.
+
+Other people were taking very little notice of the singer. The regular
+patrons of the 'Jolly Tar' were accustomed to her beauty and her
+singing, and thought very little about her. The girl was very quiet,
+very modest. She came and went under the care of the old blind pianist,
+whom she called her grandfather, and she seemed to shrink alike from
+observation or admiration.
+
+She began to sing again presently.
+
+She stood by the piano, facing the audience, calm as a statue, with her
+large black eyes looking straight before her. The old man listened to
+her eagerly, as he played, and nodded fond approval every now and then,
+as the full, rich notes fell upon his ear. The poor blind face was
+illuminated with the musician's rapture. It seemed as if the noisy,
+disreputable audience had no existence for these two people.
+
+"What a lovely creature!" exclaimed the captain, in a tone of subdued
+intensity.
+
+"Yes, she's a pretty girl," muttered the clerk, coolly.
+
+"A pretty girl!" echoed Jernam; "an angel, you mean! I did not know
+there were such women in the world; and to think that such a woman
+should be here, in this place, in the midst of all this tobacco-smoke,
+and noise, and blasphemy! It seems hard, doesn't it, Joyce?"
+
+"I don't see that it's any harder for a pretty woman than an ugly one,"
+replied Harker, sententiously. "If the girl had red hair and a snub
+nose, you wouldn't take the trouble to pity her. I don't see why you
+should concern yourself about her, because she happens to have black
+eyes and red lips. I dare say she's a bad lot, like most of 'em about
+here, and would as soon pick your pocket as look at you, if you gave
+her the chance."
+
+Valentine Jernam made no reply to these observations. It is possible
+that he scarcely heard them. The punch came presently; but he pushed
+the bowl towards Joyce, and bade that gentleman dispense the mixture.
+His own glass remained before him untouched, while the foreign seamen
+and Joyce Harker emptied the bowl. When the girl sang, he listened;
+when she sat in a listless attitude, in the pauses between her songs,
+he watched her face.
+
+Until she had finished her last song, and left the platform, leading
+her blind companion by the hand, the captain of the 'Pizarro' seemed
+like a creature under the influence of a spell. There was only one exit
+from the room, so the singing-girl and her grandfather had to pass
+along the narrow space between the two rows of tables. Her dark stuff
+dress brushed against Jernam as she passed him. To the last, his eyes
+followed her with the same entranced gaze.
+
+When she had gone, and the door had closed upon her, he started
+suddenly to his feet, and followed. He was just in time to see her
+leave the house with her grandfather, and with a big, ill-looking man,
+half-sailor, half-landsman, who had been drinking at the bar.
+
+The landlord was standing behind the bar, drawing beer, as Jernam
+looked out into the street, watching the receding figures of the girl
+and her two companions.
+
+"She's a pretty girl, isn't she?" said the landlord, as Jernam shut the
+door.
+
+"She is, indeed!" cried the sailor. "Who is she?--where does she come
+from?--what's her name?"
+
+"Her name is Jenny Milsom, and she lives with her father, a very
+respectable man."
+
+"Was that her father who went out with her just now?"
+
+"Yes, that's Tom Milsom."
+
+"He doesn't look very respectable. I don't think I ever set eyes on a
+worse-looking fellow."
+
+"A man can't help his looks," answered the landlord, rather sulkily;
+"I've known Tom Milsom these ten years, and I've never known any harm
+of him."
+
+"No, nor any good either, I should think, Dennis Wayman," said a man
+who was lounging at the bar; "Black Milsom is the name we gave him over
+at Rotherhithe. I worked with him in a shipbuilder's yard seven years
+ago: a surly brute he was then, and a surly brute he is now; and a
+lazy, skulking vagabond into the bargain, living an idle life out at
+that cottage of his among the marshes, and eating up his pretty
+daughter's earnings."
+
+"You seem to know Milsom's business as well as you do your own, Joe
+Dermot," answered the landlord, with some touch of anger in his tone.
+
+"It's no use looking savage at me, Dennis," returned Dermot; "I never
+did trust Black Milsom, and never will. There are men who would take
+your life's blood for the price of a gallon of beer, and I think Milsom
+is one of 'em."
+
+Valentine Jernam listened attentively to this conversation--not
+because he was interested in Black Milsom's character, but because he
+wanted to hear anything that could enlighten him about the girl who had
+awakened such a new sentiment in his breast.
+
+The clerk had followed his master, and stood in the shadow of the
+doorway, listening even more attentively than his employer; the small,
+restless eyes shifted to and fro between the faces of the speakers.
+
+More might have been said about Mr. Thomas Milsom; but it was evident
+that the landlord of the 'Jolly Tar' was inclined to resent any
+disrespectful allusion to that individual. The man called Joe Dermot
+paid his score, and went away. The captain and his factotum retired to
+the two dingy little apartments which were to accommodate them for the
+night.
+
+All through that night, sleeping or waking, Valentine Jernam was
+haunted by the vision of a beautiful face, the sound of a melodious
+voice, and the face and the voice belonged alike to the singing-girl.
+
+The captain of the 'Pizarro' left his room at five o'clock, and tapped
+at Joyce Marker's door with the intention of bidding him goodbye.
+
+"I'm off, Joyce," he said; "be sure you keep your eye upon the repairs
+between this and the fifth."
+
+He was prepared to receive a drowsy answer; but to his surprise the
+door was opened, and Joyce stood dressed upon the threshold.
+
+"I'm coming to the coach-office with you, captain," answered Harker. "I
+don't like this place, and I want to see you safe out of it, never to
+come back to it any more."
+
+"Nonsense, Joyce; the place suits me well enough."
+
+"Does it?" asked the factotum, in a whisper; "and the landlord suits
+you, I suppose?--and that man they call Black Milsom? There's something
+more than common between those two men, Captain Jernam. However that
+is, you take my advice. Don't you come back to this house till you come
+to meet Captain George. Captain George is a cool hand, and I'm not
+afraid of him; but you're too wild and too free-spoken for such folks
+as hang about the 'Jolly Tar'. You sported your pocket-book too freely
+last night, when you were paying for the punch. I saw the landlord spot
+the notes and gold, and I haven't trusted myself to sleep too soundly
+all night, for fear there should be any attempt at foul play."
+
+"You're a good fellow, Joyce; but though you've pluck enough for twenty
+in a storm at sea, you're as timid as a baby at home."
+
+"I'm like a dog, captain--I can smell danger when it threatens those I
+love. Hark! what's that?"
+
+They were going down stairs quietly, in the darkness of the early
+spring morning. The clerk's quick ear caught the sound of a stealthy
+footstep; and in the next minute they were face to face with a man who
+was ascending the narrow stairs.
+
+"You're early astir, Mr. Wayman," said Joyce Harker, recognizing the
+landlord of the 'Jolly Tar'.
+
+"And so are you, for the matter of that," answered the host.
+
+"My captain is off by an early coach, and I'm going to walk to the
+office with him," returned Joyce.
+
+"Off by an early coach, is he? Then, if he can stop to drink it, I'll
+make him a cup of coffee."
+
+"You're very good," answered Joyce, hastily; "but you see, the captain
+hasn't time for that, if he's going to catch the coach."
+
+"Are you going into the country for long, captain?" asked the landlord.
+
+"Well, no; not for long, mate; for I've got an appointment to keep in
+this house, on the fifth of April, with a brother of mine, who's
+homeward-bound from Barbadoes. You see, my brother and me are partners;
+whatever good luck one has he shares it with the other. We've been
+uncommon lucky lately."
+
+The captain slapped his hand upon one of his capacious pockets as he
+spoke. Dennis Wayman watched the gesture with eager eyes. All through
+Valentine's speech, Joyce Harker had been trying to arrest his
+attention, but trying in vain. When the owner of the 'Pizarro' began to
+talk, it was very difficult to stop him.
+
+The captain bade the landlord a cheerful good day, and departed with
+his faithful follower.
+
+Out in the street, Joyce Harker remonstrated with his employer.
+
+"I told you that fellow was not to be trusted, captain," he said; "and
+yet you blabbed to him about the money."
+
+"Nonsense, Joyce. I didn't say a word about money."
+
+"Didn't you though, captain? You said quite enough to let that man know
+you'd got the cash about you. But you won't go back to that place till
+you go to meet Captain George on the fifth?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"You won't change your mind, captain?"
+
+"Not I."
+
+"Because, you see, I shall be down at Blackwall, looking after the
+repairs, for it will be sharp work to get finished against you want to
+sail for Rio. So, you see, I shall be out of the way. And if you did go
+back to that house alone, Lord knows what they might try on."
+
+"Don't you be afraid, Joyce. In the first place I shan't go back there
+till twelve o'clock on the fifth. I'll come up from Plymouth by the
+night coach, and put up at the 'Golden Cross' like a gentleman. And, in
+the second place, I flatter myself I'm a match for any set of
+land-sharks in creation."
+
+"No, you're not, captain. No honest man is ever a match for a
+scoundrel."
+
+Jernam and his companion carried the captain's portmanteau between
+them. They hailed a hackney-coach presently, and drove to the "Golden
+Cross," through the chill, gray streets, where the closed shutters had
+a funereal aspect.
+
+At the coach-office they parted, with many friendly words on both
+sides; but to the last, Joyce Harker was grave and anxious.
+
+The last he saw of his friend and employer was the captain's dark face
+looking out of the coach-window; the captain's hand waved in cordial
+farewell.
+
+"What a good fellow he is!--what a noble fellow!" thought the wizen
+little clerk, as he trudged back towards the City. "But was there ever
+a baby so helpless on shore?--was there ever an innocent infant that
+needed so much looking after?"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Valentine Jernam arrived at Plymouth early the next morning, and walked
+from Plymouth to the little village of Allanbay, in which lived the
+only relative he had in the world, except his brother George. Walking
+at a leisurely pace along the quiet road, Captain Jernam, although not
+usually a thoughtful person, was fain to think about something, and
+fell to thinking over the past.
+
+Light-hearted and cheery of spirit as the adventurous sailor was
+now-a-days, his childhood had been a very sad one. Motherless at eight
+years of age, and ill-used by a drunken father, the boy had suffered as
+the children of the poor too often suffer.
+
+His mother had died, leaving George an infant of less than twelve
+months old; and from the hour of her death, Valentine had been the
+infant's sole nurse and protector; standing between the helpless little
+one and the father's brutality; enduring all hardships cheerfully, so
+long as he was able to shelter little Georgy.
+
+On more than one occasion, the elder boy had braved and defied his
+father in defence of the younger brother.
+
+It was scarcely strange, therefore, that there should arise between the
+two brothers an affection beyond the ordinary measure of brotherly
+love. Valentine had supplied the place of both parents to his brother
+George,--the place of the mother, who lay buried in Allanbay
+churchyard; the place of the father, who had sunk into a living death
+of drunkenness and profligacy.
+
+They were not peasant-born these Jernams. The father had been a
+lieutenant in the Royal Navy; but had deservedly lost his commission,
+and had come, with his devoted wife, to hide his disgrace at Allanbay.
+The vices which had caused his expulsion from the navy had increased
+with every year, until the family had sunk to the lowest depths of
+poverty and degradation, in spite of the wife's heroic efforts to
+accomplish the reform of a reprobate. She had struggled nobly till the
+last, and had died broken-hearted, leaving the helpless children to the
+mercy of a wretch whose nature had become utterly debased and
+brutalized.
+
+Throughout their desolate childhood the brothers had been all in all to
+each other, and as soon as George was old enough to face the world with
+his brother, the two boys ran away to sea, and obtained employment on
+board a small trading vessel.
+
+At sea, as on shore, Valentine stood between his younger brother and
+all hardships. But the rough sailors were kinder than the drunken
+father had been, and the two lads fared pretty well.
+
+Thus began the career of the two Jernams. Through all changes of
+fortune, the brothers had clung to each other. Despite all differences
+of character, their love for each other had known neither change nor
+diminution; and to-day, walking alone upon this quiet country road, the
+tears clouded Valentine Jernam's eyes as he remembered how often he had
+trodden it in the old time with his little brother in his arms.
+
+"I shall see his dear face on the fifth," he thought; "God bless him!"
+
+The old aunt lived in a cottage near the entrance to the village. She
+was comfortably off now--thanks to the two merchant captains; but she
+had been very poor in the days of their childhood, and had been able to
+do but little for the neglected lads. She had given them shelter,
+however, when they had been afraid to go home to their father, and had
+shared her humble fare with them very often.
+
+Mrs. Jernam, as she was called by her neighbours, in right of her sixty
+years of age, was sitting by the window when her nephew opened the
+little garden-gate: but she had opened the door before he could knock,
+and was standing on the threshold ready to embrace him.
+
+"My boy," she exclaimed, "I have been looking for you so long!"
+
+That day was given up to pleasant talk between the aunt and nephew. She
+was so anxious to hear his adventures, and he was so willing to tell
+them. He sat before the fire smoking, while Susan Jernam's busy fingers
+plied her knitting-needles, and relating his hair-breadth escapes and
+perils between the puffs of blue smoke.
+
+The captain was regaled with an excellent dinner, and a bottle of wine
+of his own importation. After dinner, he strolled out into the village,
+saw his old friends and acquaintances, and talked over old times.
+Altogether his first day at Allanbay passed very pleasantly.
+
+The second day at Allanbay, however, hung heavily on the captain's
+hands. He had told all his adventures; he had seen all his old
+acquaintances. The face of the ballad-singer haunted him perpetually;
+and he spent the best part of the day leaning over the garden-gate and
+smoking. Mrs. Jernam was not offended by her nephew's conduct.
+
+"Ah! my boy," she said, smiling fondly on her handsome kinsman, "it's
+fortunate Providence made you a sailor, for you'd have been ill-fitted
+for any but a roving life."
+
+The third day of Valentine Jernam's stay at Allanbay was the second of
+April, and on that morning his patience was exhausted. The face which
+had made itself a part of his very mind lured him back to London. He
+was a man who had never accustomed himself to school his impulses; and
+the impulse that drew him back to London was irresistible.
+
+"I must and will see her once more," he said to himself; "perhaps, if I
+see her face again, I shall find out it's only a common face after all,
+and get the better of this folly. But I must see her. After the fifth,
+George will be with me, and I shan't be my own master. I must see her
+before the fifth."
+
+Impetuous in all things, Valentine Jernam was not slow to act upon his
+resolution. He told his aunt that he had business to transact in
+London. He left Allanbay at noon, walked to Plymouth, took the
+afternoon coach, and rode into London on the following day.
+
+It was one o'clock when Captain Jernam found himself once more in the
+familiar seafaring quarter; early as it was, the noise of riot and
+revelry had begun already.
+
+The landlord looked up with an expression of considerable surprise as
+the captain of the 'Pizarro' crossed the threshold.
+
+"Why, captain," he said, "I thought we weren't to see you till the
+fifth."
+
+"Well, you see, I had some business to do in this neighbourhood, so I
+changed my mind."
+
+"I'm very glad you did," answered Dennis Wayman, cordially; "you've
+just come in time to take a snack of dinner with me and my missus, so
+you can sit down, and make yourself at home, without ceremony."
+
+The captain was too good-natured to refuse an invitation that seemed
+proffered in such a hearty spirit. And beyond this, he wanted to hear
+more about Jenny Milsom, the ballad-singer.
+
+So he ate his dinner with Mr. Wayman and his wife, and found himself
+asking all manner of questions about the singing-girl in the course of
+his hospitable entertainment.
+
+He asked if the girl was going to sing at the tavern to-night.
+
+"No," answered the landlord; "this is Friday. She only sings at my
+place on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays."
+
+"And what does she do with herself for the rest of the week?"
+
+"Ah! that's more than I know; but very likely her father will look in
+here in the course of the afternoon, and he can tell you. I say,
+though, captain, you seem uncommonly sweet on this girl," added the
+landlord, with a leer and a wink.
+
+"Well, perhaps I am sweet upon her," replied Valentine Jernam "perhaps
+I'm fool enough to be caught by a pretty face, and not wise enough to
+keep my folly a secret."
+
+"I've got a Little business to see to over in Rotherhithe," said Mr.
+Wayman, presently; "you'll see after the bar while I'm gone, Nancy.
+There's the little private room at your service, captain, and I dare
+say you can make yourself comfortable there with your pipe and the
+newspaper. It's ten to one but what Tom Milsom will look in before the
+day's out, and he'll tell you all about his daughter."
+
+Upon this the landlord departed, and Valentine Jernam retired to the
+little den called a private room, where he speedily fell asleep,
+wearied out by his journey on the previous night.
+
+His slumbers were not pleasant. He sat in an uneasy position, upon a
+hard wooden chair, with his arms folded on the table before him, and
+his head resting on his folded arms.
+
+There was a miserable pretence of a fire, made with bad coals and damp
+wood.
+
+Sleeping in that wretched atmosphere, in that uncomfortable attitude,
+it was scarcely strange if Valentine Jernam dreamt a bad dream.
+
+He dreamt that he fell asleep at broad day in his cabin on board the
+'Pizarro', and that he woke suddenly and found himself in darkness. He
+dreamt that he groped his way up the companion-way, and on to the deck.
+
+There, as below, he found gloom and darkness, and instead of a busy
+crew, utter loneliness, perfect silence. A stillness like the stillness
+of death reigned on the level waters around the motionless ship.
+
+The captain shouted, but his voice died away among the shrouds.
+Presently a glimmer of star-light pierced the universal gloom, and in
+that uncertain light a shadowy figure came gliding towards him across
+the ocean--a face shone upon him beneath the radiance of the stars. It
+was the face of the ballad-singer.
+
+The shadow drew nearer to him, with a strange gliding motion. The
+shadow lifted a white, transparent hand, and pointed.
+
+To what?
+
+To a tombstone, which glimmered cold and white through the gloom of sky
+and waters.
+
+The starlight shone upon the tombstone, and on it the sleeper read this
+inscription--"_In memory of Valentine Jernam, aged 33_."
+
+The sailor awoke suddenly with a cry, and, looking up, saw the man they
+called Black Milsom sitting on the opposite side of the table, looking
+at him earnestly.
+
+"Well, you are a restless sleeper, captain!" said this man: "I dropped
+in here just now, thinking to find Dennis Wayman, and I've been looking
+on while you finished your nap. I never saw a harder sleeper."
+
+"I had a bad dream," answered Jernam, starting to his feet.
+
+"A bad dream! What about, captain?"
+
+"About your daughter!"
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER II.
+
+
+                          DONE IN THE DARKNESS.
+
+Before Thomas Milsom, otherwise Black Milsom, could express his
+surprise, the landlord of the 'Jolly Tar' returned from his business
+excursion, and presented himself in the dingy little room, where it was
+already beginning to grow dusk.
+
+Milsom told Dennis Wayman how he had discovered the captain sleeping
+uneasily, with his head upon the table; and on being pressed a little,
+Valentine Jernam told his dream as freely as it was his habit to tell
+everything relating to his own affairs.
+
+"I don't see that it was such a very bad dream, after all," said Dennis
+Wayman, when the story was finished. "You dreamt you were at sea in a
+dead calm, that's about the plain English of it."
+
+"Yes; but such a calm! I've been becalmed many a time; but I never
+remember anything like what I saw in my dream just now. Then the
+loneliness; not a creature on board besides myself; not a human voice
+to answer me when I called. And the face--there was something so awful
+in the face--smiling at me, and yet with a kind of threatening look in
+the smile; and the hand pointing to the tombstone! Do you know that I
+was thirty-three last December?"
+
+The sailor covered his face with his hands, and sat for some moments in
+a meditative attitude. Bold and reckless though he was, the
+superstition of his class had some hold upon him; and this bad dream
+influenced him, in spite of himself.
+
+The landlord was the first to break the silence. "Come, captain," he
+said; "this is what I call giving yourself up to the blue devils. You
+went to sleep in an uncomfortable position, and you had an
+uncomfortable dream, with no more sense nor reason in it than such
+dreams generally have. What do you say to a hand at cards, and a drop
+of something short? You want cheering up a bit, captain; that's what
+you want."
+
+Valentine Jernam assented. The cards were brought, and a bowl of punch
+ordered by the open-handed sailor, who was always ready to invite
+people to drink at his expense.
+
+The men played all-fours; and what generally happens in this sort of
+company happened now to Captain Jernam. He began by winning, and ended
+by losing; and his losses were much heavier than his gains.
+
+He had been playing for upwards of an hour, and had drunk several
+glasses of punch, before his luck changed, and he had occasion to take
+out the bloated leathern pocket-book, distended unnaturally with notes
+and gold.
+
+But for that rum-punch he might, perhaps, have remembered Joyce
+Harker's warning, and avoided displaying his wealth before these two
+men. Unhappily, however, the fumes of the strong liquor had already
+begun to mount to his brain, and the clerk was completely forgotten. He
+opened his pocket-book every time he had occasion to pay his losses,
+and whenever he opened it the greedy eyes of Dennis Wayman and Black
+Milsom devoured the contents with a furtive gaze.
+
+With every hand the sailor grew more excited. He was playing for small
+stakes, and as yet his losses only amounted to a few pounds. But the
+sense of defeat annoyed him. He was feverishly eager for his revenge:
+and when Milsom rose to go, the captain wanted him to continue to play.
+
+"You shan't sneak off like that," he said; "I want my revenge, and I
+must have it."
+
+Black Milsom pointed to a little Dutch clock in a corner of the room.
+
+"Past eight o'clock," he said; "and I've got a five-mile walk between
+me and home. My girl, Jenny, will be waiting up for me, and getting
+anxious about her father."
+
+In the excitement of play, and the fever engendered by strong drink,
+Valentine Jernam had forgotten the ballad-singer. But this mention of
+her name brought the vision of the beautiful face back to him.
+
+"Your daughter!" he muttered; "your daughter! Yes; the girl who sang
+here, the beautiful girl who sang."
+
+His voice was thick, and his accents indistinct. Both the men had
+pressed Jernam to drink, while they themselves took very little. They
+had encouraged him to talk as well as to drink, and the appointment
+with his brother had been spoken of by the captain.
+
+In speaking of this intended meeting, Valentine Jernam had spoken also
+of the good fortune which had attended his latest trading adventures;
+and he had said enough to let these men know that he carried the
+proceeds of his trading upon his person.
+
+"Joyce wanted me to bank my money," he said; "but none of your banking
+rogues for me. My brother George is the only banker I trust, or ever
+mean to trust."
+
+Milsom insisted upon the necessity of his departure, and the sailor
+declared that he would have his revenge. They were getting to high
+words, when Dennis Wayman interfered to keep the peace.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is," he said; "if the captain wants his revenge,
+it's only fair that he should have it. Suppose we go down to your
+place, Milsom! you can give us a bit of supper, I dare say. What do you
+say to that?"
+
+Milsom hesitated in a sheepish kind of manner. "Mine's such a poor
+place for a gentleman like the captain," he said. "My daughter Jenny
+will do her best to make things straight and comfortable; but still it
+is about the poorest place that ever was--there's no denying that."
+
+"I'm no fine gentleman," said the captain, enraptured at the idea of
+seeing the ballad-singer; "if your daughter will give us a crust of
+bread and cheese, I shall be satisfied. We'll take two or three bottles
+of wine down with us, and we'll be as jolly as princes. Get your trap
+ready, Wayman, and let's be off at once."
+
+The captain was all impatience to start. Dennis Wayman went away to get
+the vehicle ready, and Milsom followed him, but they did not leave
+Captain Jernam much time for thought, for Dennis Wayman came back
+almost immediately to say that the vehicle was ready.
+
+"Now, then, look sharp, captain!" he said; "it's a dark night, and we
+shall have a dark drive."
+
+It was a dark night--dark even here in Wapping, darker still on the
+road by which Valentine Jernam found himself travelling presently.
+
+The vehicle which Dennis Wayman drove was a disreputable-looking
+conveyance--half chaise-cart, half gig--and the pony was a
+vicious-looking animal, with a shaggy mane; but he was a tremendous
+pony to go, and the dark, marshy country flew past the travellers in
+the darkness like a landscape in a dream.
+
+The ripple of the water, sounding faintly in the stillness, told
+Valentine Jernam that the river was near at hand; but beyond this the
+sailor had little knowledge of his whereabouts.
+
+They had soon left London behind.
+
+After driving some six or seven miles, and always keeping within sound
+of the dull plash of the river, the landlord of the 'Jolly Tar' drew up
+suddenly by a dilapidated wooden paling, behind which there was a low-
+roofed habitation of some kind or other, which was visible only by
+reason of one faint glimmer of light, flickering athwart a scrap of
+dingy red curtain. The dull, plashing sound of the river was louder
+here; and, mingling with that monotonous ripple of the water, there was
+a shivering sound--the trembling of rushes stirred by the chill night
+wind.
+
+"I'd almost passed your place, Tom," said the landlord, as he drew up
+before the darksome habitation.
+
+"You might a'most drive over it on such a night as this," answered
+Black Milsom, "and not be much the wiser."
+
+The three men alighted, and Dennis Wayman led the vicious pony to a
+broken-down shed, which served as stable and coach-house in Mr.
+Milsom's establishment.
+
+Valentine Jernam looked about him. As his eyes grew more familiar with
+the locality, he was able to make out the outline of the dilapidated
+dwelling.
+
+It was little better than a hovel, and stood on a patch of waste
+ground, which could scarcely have been garden within the memory of man.
+By one side of the house there was a wide, open ditch, fringed with
+rushes--a deep, black ditch, that flowed down to the river.
+
+"I can't compliment you on the situation of your cottage, mate," he
+said; "it might be livelier."
+
+"I dare say it might," answered Black Milsom, rather sulkily. "I took
+to this place because everybody else was afraid to take to it, and it
+was to be had for nothing. There was an old miser as cut his throat
+here seven or eight year ago, and the place has been left to go to
+decay ever since. The miser's ghost walks about here sometimes, after
+twelve o'clock at night, folks say. 'Let him walk till he tires himself
+out,' says I. 'He don't come my way; and if he did he wouldn't scare
+me.' Come, captain."
+
+Mr. Milsom opened the door, and ushered his visitor into the lively
+abode, which the prejudice of weak-minded people permitted him to
+occupy rent-free.
+
+The girl whom Jernam had seen at the Wapping public-house was sitting
+by the hearth, where a scrap of fire burnt in a rusty grate. She had
+been sitting in a listless attitude, with her hands lying idle on her
+lap, and her eyes fixed on the fire; but she looked up as the two men
+entered.
+
+She did not welcome her father's return with any demonstration of
+affection; she looked at him with a strange, wondering gaze; and she
+looked with an anxious expression from him to his companion.
+
+Dennis Wayman came in presently, and as the girl recognized him, a
+transient look, almost like horror, flitted across her face, unseen by
+the sailor.
+
+"Come, Jenny," said Milsom; "I've brought Wayman and a friend of his
+down to supper. What can you give us to eat? There's a bit of cold beef
+in the house, I know, and bread and cheese; the captain here has
+brought the wine; so we shall do well enough. Look sharp, lass. You're
+in one of your tempers to-night, I suppose; but you ought to know that
+don't answer with me. I say, captain," added the man, with a laugh, "if
+ever you're going to marry a pretty woman, make sure she isn't troubled
+with an ugly temper; for you'll find, as a rule, that the handsomer a
+woman is the more of the devil there is in her. Now, Jenny, the supper,
+and no nonsense about it."
+
+The girl went into another room, and returned presently with such fare
+as Mr. Milsom's establishment could afford. The sailor's eyes followed
+her wherever she went, full of compassion and love. He was sure this
+brutal wretch, Milsom, used her badly, and he rejoiced to think that he
+had disregarded all Joyce Harker's warnings, and penetrated into the
+scoundrel's home. He rejoiced, for he meant to rescue this lovely,
+helpless creature. He knew nothing of her, except that she was
+beautiful, friendless, lonely, and ill-used; and he determined to take
+her away and marry her.
+
+He did not perplex himself with any consideration as to whether she
+would return his love, or be grateful for his devotion. He thought only
+of her unhappy position, and that he was predestined to save her.
+
+The supper was laid upon the rickety deal table, and the three men sat
+down. Valentine would have waited till his host's daughter had seated
+herself; but she had laid no plate or knife for herself, and it was
+evident that she was not expected to share the social repast.
+
+"You can go to bed now," said Milsom. "We're in for a jolly night of
+it, and you'll only be in the way. Where's the old man?"
+
+"Gone to bed."
+
+"So much the better: and the sooner you follow him will be so much the
+better again. Good night."
+
+The girl did not answer him. She looked at him for a few moments with
+an earnest, inquiring gaze, which seemed to compel him to return her
+look, as if he had been fascinated by the profound earnestness of those
+large dark eyes; and then she went slowly and silently from the room.
+
+"Sulky!" muttered Mr. Milsom. "There never was such a girl to sulk."
+
+He took up a candle, and followed his daughter from the room.
+
+A rickety old staircase led to the upper floor, where there were three
+or four bed-chambers. The house had been originally something more than
+a cottage, and the rooms and passages were tolerably large.
+
+Thomas Milsom found the girl standing at the top of the stairs, as if
+waiting for some one.
+
+"What are you standing mooning there for?" asked the man. "Why don't
+you go to bed?"
+
+"Why have you brought that sailor here?" inquired the girl, without
+noticing Milsom's question.
+
+"What's that to you? You'd like to know my business, wouldn't you? I've
+brought him here because he wanted to come. Is that a good answer? I've
+brought him here because he has money to lose, and is in the humour to
+lose it. Is that a better answer?"
+
+"Yes," returned the girl, fixing her eyes upon him with a look of
+horror; "you will win his money, and, if he is angry, there will be a
+quarrel, as there was on that hideous night three years ago, when you
+brought home the foreign sailor, and what happened to that man will
+happen to this one. Father," cried the girl, suddenly and passionately,
+"let this man leave the house in safety. I sometimes think my heart is
+almost as hard as yours; but this man trusts us. Don't let any harm
+come to him."
+
+"Why, what harm should come to him?"
+
+For some time the girl called Jenny stood before her father in silence,
+with her head bent, and her face in shadow; then she lifted her head
+suddenly, and looked at him piteously.
+
+"The other!" she murmured; "the other! I remember what happened to
+him."
+
+"Come, drop that!" cried Milsom, savagely; "do you think I'm going to
+stand your mad talk? Get to bed, and go to sleep. And the sounder you
+sleep the better, unless you want to sleep uncommonly sound for the
+future, my lady."
+
+The ruffian seized his daughter by the arm, and half pushed, half flung
+her into a room, the door of which stood open. It was the dreary room
+which she called her own. Milsom shut the door upon her, and locked it
+with a key which he took from his pocket--a key which locked every door
+in the house. "And now, I flatter myself, you're safe, my pretty
+singing-bird," he muttered.
+
+He went down stairs, and returned to his guest, who had been pressed to
+eat and drink by Dennis Wayman, and who had yielded good-naturedly to
+that gentleman's hospitable attentions.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Alone in her room, Jenny Milsom opened the window, and sat looking out
+into the inky darkness of the night, and listening to the voices of the
+three men in the room below.
+
+The voices sounded very distinctly in that dilapidated old house. Every
+now and then a hearty shout of laughter seemed to shake the crazy
+rafters; but presently the revellers grew silent. Jenny knew they were
+busy with the cards.
+
+"Yes, yes," she murmured; "it all happens as it happened that night--
+first the loud voices and laughter; then the silence; then--Great
+Heaven! will the end be like the end of that night?"
+
+She clasped her hands in silent agony, and sank in a crouching position
+by the open window, with her head lying on the sill.
+
+For hours this wretched girl sat upon the floor in the same attitude,
+with the cold wind blowing in upon her. All seemed tranquil in the room
+below. The voices sounded now and then, subdued and cautious, and there
+were no more outbursts of jovial laughter.
+
+A dim, gray streak glimmered faint and low in the east--the first pale
+flicker of dawn. The girl raised her weary eyes towards that chill gray
+light.
+
+"Oh! if this night were only ended!" she murmured: "if it were only
+ended without harm!"
+
+The words were still upon her lips, when the voices sounded loud and
+harsh from the room below. The girl started to her feet, white and
+trembling. Louder with every moment grew those angry voices. Then came
+a struggle; some article of furniture fell with a crash; there was the
+sound of shivered glass, and then a dull heavy noise, which echoed
+through the house, and shook the weather-beaten wooden walls to their
+foundations.
+
+After the fall there came the sound of one loud groan, and then subdued
+murmurs, cautious whispers.
+
+The window of Jenny Milsom's room looked towards the road. From that
+window she could see nothing of the sluggish ditch or the river.
+
+She tried the door of her room. It was securely locked, as she had
+expected to find it.
+
+"They would kill me, if I tried to come between them and their victim,"
+she said; "and I am afraid to die."
+
+She crept to her wretched bed, and flung herself down, dressed as she
+was. She drew the thin patchwork coverlet round her.
+
+Ten minutes after she had thrown herself upon the bed, a key turned in
+the lock, and the door was opened by a stealthy hand. Black Milsom
+looked into the room.
+
+The cold glimmer of day fell full upon the girl's pale face. Her eyes
+were closed, and her breathing was loud and regular.
+
+"Asleep," he whispered to some one outside; "as safe as a rock."
+
+He drew back and closed the door softly.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Joyce Harker worked his hardest on board the 'Pizarro', and the repairs
+were duly completed by the 4th of April. On the morning of the 5th the
+vessel was a picture, and Joyce surveyed her with the pride of a man
+who feels that he has not worked in vain.
+
+He had set his heart upon the brothers celebrating the first day of
+their re-union on board the trim little craft: and he had made
+arrangements for the preparation of a dinner which was to be a triumph
+in its way.
+
+Joyce presented himself at the bar of the 'Jolly Tar' at half-past
+eleven on the appointed morning. He expected that the brothers would be
+punctual; but he did not expect either of them to appear before the
+stroke of noon.
+
+All was very quiet at the 'Jolly Tar' at this hour of the day. The
+landlord was alone in the bar, reading a paper. He looked up as Joyce
+entered; but did not appear to recognize him.
+
+"Can I step through into your private room?" asked Joyce; "I expect
+Captain Jernam and his brother to meet me here in half an hour."
+
+"To be sure you can, mate. There's no one in the private room at this
+time of day. Jernam--Jernam, did you say? What Jernam is that? I don't
+recollect the name."
+
+"You've a short memory," answered Joyce; "you might remember Captain
+Jernam of the 'Pizarro'; for it isn't above a week since he was here
+with me. He dined here, and slept here, and left early in the morning,
+though you were uncommonly pressing for him to stay."
+
+"We've so many captains and sailors in and out from year's end to
+year's end, that I don't remember them by name," said Dennis Wayman;
+"but I do remember your friend, mate, now you remind me of him; and I
+remember you, too."
+
+"Yes," said Joyce, with a grin; "there ain't so many of my pattern.
+I'll take a glass of rum for the good of the house; and if you can lend
+me a paper, I'll skim the news of the day while I'm waiting."
+
+Joyce passed into the little room, where Dennis took him the newspaper
+and the rum.
+
+Twelve o'clock struck, and the clerk began to watch and to listen for
+the opening of the door, or the sound of a footstep in the passage
+outside. The time seemed very long to him, watching and listening. The
+minute-hand of the Dutch clock moved slowly on. He turned every now and
+then towards the dusky corner where the clock hung, to see what
+progress that slow hand had made upon the discoloured dial.
+
+He waited thus for an hour.
+
+"What does it mean?" he thought. "Valentine Jernam so faithfully
+promised to be punctual. And then he's so fond of his brother. He'd
+scarcely care to be a minute behindhand, when he has the chance of
+seeing Captain George."
+
+Joyce went into the bar. The landlord was scrutinizing the address of a
+letter--a foreign letter.
+
+"Didn't you say your friend's name was Jernam?" he asked.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Then this letter must be for him. It has been lying here for the last
+two or three days; but I forgot all about it till just this minute."
+
+Joyce took the letter. It was addressed to Captain Valentine Jernam, of
+the 'Pizarro', at the 'Jolly Tar', care of the landlord, and it came
+from the Cape of Good Hope.
+
+Joyce recognized George Jernam's writing.
+
+"This means a disappointment," he thought, as he turned the letter over
+and over slowly; "there'll be no meeting yet awhile. Captain George is
+off to the East Indies on some new venture, I dare say. But what can
+have become of Captain Valentine? I'll go down to the 'Golden Cross,'
+and see if he's there."
+
+He told Dennis Wayman where he was going, and left a message for his
+captain. From Ratcliff Highway to Charing Cross was a long journey for
+Joyce; but he had no idea of indulging in any such luxury as a hackney-
+coach. It was late in the afternoon when he reached the hotel; and
+there he was doomed to encounter a new disappointment.
+
+Captain Jernam had been there on the second of the month, and had never
+been there since. He had left in the forenoon, after saying that he
+should return at night; and in evidence that such had been his
+intention, the waiter told Joyce that the captain had left a carpet-
+bag, containing clean linen and a change of clothes.
+
+"He's broken his word to me, and he's got into bad hands," thought
+Harker. "He's as simple as a child, and he's got into bad hands. But
+how and where? He'd never, surely, go back to the 'Jolly Tar', after
+what I said to him. And where else can he have gone? I know no more
+where to look for him in this great overgrown London than if I was a
+new-born baby."
+
+In his perfect ignorance of his captain's movements, there was only one
+thing that Joyce Harker could do, and that was to go back to the "Jolly
+Tar," with a faint hope of finding Valentine Jernam there.
+
+It was dusk by the time he got back to Ratcliff Highway, and the
+flaring gas-lamps were lighted. The bar of the tavern was crowded, and
+the tinkling notes of the old piano sounded feebly from the inner room.
+
+Dennis Wayman was serving his customers, and Thomas Milsom was drinking
+at the bar. Joyce pushed his way to the landlord.
+
+"Have you seen anything of the captain?" he asked.
+
+"No, he hasn't been here since you left."
+
+"You're sure of that?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"He's not been here to day; but he's been here within the week, hasn't
+he? He was here on Tuesday, if I'm not misinformed."
+
+"Then you _are_ misinformed," Wayman said, coolly; "for your seafaring
+friend hasn't darkened my doors since the morning you and he left to go
+to the coach-office."
+
+Joyce could say nothing further. He passed through the passage into the
+public room, where the so-called concert had begun. Jenny Milsom was
+singing to the noisy audience.
+
+The girl was very pale, and her manner and attitude, as she sat by the
+piano, were even more listless than usual.
+
+Joyce Harker did not stop long in the concert-room. He went back to the
+bar. This time there was no one but Milsom and Wayman in the bar, and
+the two seemed to be talking earnestly as Joyce entered.
+
+They left off, and looked up at the sound of the clerk's footsteps.
+
+"Tired of the music already?" asked Wayman.
+
+"I didn't come here to hear music," answered Joyce; "I came to look for
+my captain. He had an appointment to meet his brother here to-day at
+twelve o'clock, and it isn't like him to break it. I'm beginning to get
+uneasy about him."
+
+"But why should you be uneasy? The captain is big enough, and old
+enough, to take care of himself," said the landlord, with a laugh.
+
+"Yes; but then you see, mate, there are some men who never know how to
+take care of themselves when they get into bad company. There isn't a
+better sailor than Valentine Jernam, or a finer fellow at sea; but I
+don't think, if you searched from one end of this city to the other,
+you'd find a greater innocent on shore. I'm afraid of his having fallen
+into bad hands, Mr. Wayman, for he had a goodish bit of money about
+him; and there's land-sharks as dangerous as those you meet with on the
+sea."
+
+"So there are, mate," answered the landlord; "and there's some queer
+characters about this neighbourhood, for the matter of that."
+
+"I dare say you're right, Mr. Wayman," returned Joyce; "and I'll tell
+you what it is. If any harm has come to Valentine Jernam, let those
+that have done the harm look out for themselves. Perhaps they don't
+know what it is to hurt a man that's got a faithful dog at his heels.
+Let them hide themselves where they will, and let them be as cunning as
+they will, the dog will smell them out, sooner or later, and will tear
+them to pieces when he finds them. I'm Captain Jernam's dog, Mr. Dennis
+Wayman; and if I don't find my master, I'll hunt till I do find those
+that have got him out of the way. I don't know what's amiss with me to-
+night; but I've got a feeling come over me that I shall never look in
+Valentine Jernam's honest face again. If I'm right, Lord help the
+scoundrels who have plotted against him, for it'll be the business of
+my life to track them down, and bring their crime home to them--and
+I'll do it."
+
+After having said this, slowly and deliberately, with an appalling
+earnestness of voice and manner, Joyce Harker looked from Dennis Wayman
+to Black Milsom, and this time the masks they were accustomed to wear
+did not serve these scoundrels so well as usual, for in the faces of
+both there was a look of fear.
+
+"I am going to search for my captain," said Joyce. "Good night, mates."
+
+He left the tavern. The two men looked at each other earnestly as the
+door closed upon him.
+
+"A dangerous man," said Dennis Wayman.
+
+"Bah!" muttered Black Milsom, savagely; "who's afraid of a hunchback's
+bluster? I dare say he wanted the handling of the money himself."
+
+All that night Joyce Harker wandered to and fro amidst the haunts of
+sailors and merchant captains; but wander where he would, and inquire
+of whom he would, he could obtain no tidings of the missing man.
+
+Towards daybreak, he took a couple of hours' sleep in a tavern at
+Shadwell, and with the day his search began again.
+
+Throughout that day the same patient search continued, the same
+inquiries were repeated with indomitable perseverance, in every likely
+and unlikely place; but everywhere the result was failure.
+
+It was towards dusk that Joyce Harker turned his back upon a tavern in
+Rotherhithe, and set his face towards the river bank.
+
+"I have looked long enough for him among the living," he said; "I must
+look for him now amongst the dead."
+
+Before midnight the search was ended. Amongst the printed bills
+flapping on dreary walls in that river-side neighbourhood, Joyce Harker
+had discovered the description of a man "found drowned." The
+description fitted Valentine Jernam, and the body had been found within
+the last two days.
+
+Joyce went to the police-office where the man was lying. He had no need
+to look at the poor dead face--the dark, handsome face, which was so
+familiar to him.
+
+"I expected as much," he said to the official who had admitted him to
+see the body; "he had money about him, and he has fallen into the hands
+of scoundrels."
+
+"You don't think it was an accident?"
+
+"No; he has been murdered, sir. And I think I know the men who did it."
+
+"You know the men?"
+
+"Yes; but my knowledge won't help to avenge his death, if I can't bring
+it home to them--and I don't suppose I can. There'll be a coroner's
+inquest, won't there?"
+
+At the inquest, next day, Joyce Harker told his story; but that story
+threw very little light on the circumstances of Valentine Jernam's
+death.
+
+The investigation before the coroner set at rest all question as to the
+means by which the captain had met his death. A medical examination
+demonstrated that he had been murdered by a blow on the back of the
+head, inflicted by some sharp heavy instrument. The unfortunate man
+must have died before he was thrown into the water.
+
+The verdict of the coroner's jury was to the effect that Valentine
+Jernam had been wilfully murdered by some person or persons unknown.
+And with this verdict Joyce Harker was obliged to be content. His
+suspicions he dared not mention in open court. They were too vague and
+shadowy. But he called upon a celebrated Bow Street officer, and
+submitted the case to him. It was a case for secret inquiry, for
+careful investigation; and Joyce offered a handsome reward out of his
+own savings.
+
+While this secret investigation was in progress, Joyce opened the
+letter addressed to Valentine by his brother George.
+
+"DEAR VAL," wrote the sailor: "_I have been tempted to make another
+trip to Calcutta with a cargo shipped at Lisbon, and shall not be able
+to meet you in London on the 5th of April. It will be ten or twelve
+months before I see England again; but when I do come back, I hope to
+add something handsome to our joint fortunes. I long to see your honest
+face, and grasp your hand again; but the chance of a big prize lures me
+out yonder. We are both young, and have all the world before us, so we
+can afford to wait a year or two. Bank the money; Joyce will tell you
+where, and how to do it; and let me know your plans before you leave
+London. A letter addressed to me, care of Riverdale and Co., Calcutta,
+will be safe. Good luck to you, dear old boy, now and always, and every
+good wish.--From your affectionate brother_,"         "GEORGE JERNAM."
+
+It was Joyce Harker's melancholy task to tell Valentine Jernam's
+younger brother the story of the seaman's death. He wrote a long
+letter, recording everything that had happened within his knowledge,
+from the moment of the 'Pizarro' reaching Gravesend to the discovery of
+Valentine's body in the river-side police office. He told George the
+impression that had been made upon his brother by the ballad-singer's
+beauty.
+
+"_I think that this girl and these two men, her father, Thomas Milsom,
+and Dennis Wayman, the landlord of the 'Jolly Tar', are in the secret--
+are, between them, the murderers of your brother. I think that when he
+broke his promise to me, and came back to this end of London, before
+the fifth, he came lured by that girl's beauty. It is to the girl we
+must look for a key to the secret of his death. I do not expect to
+extort anything from the fears of the men. They are both hardened
+villains; and if, as I believe, they are guilty of this crime, it is
+not likely to be the first in which they have been engaged. The police
+are on the watch, and I have promised a liberal reward for any
+discoveries they may make; but it is very slow work_."
+
+This, and much more, Joyce Harker wrote to George Jernam. The letter
+was written immediately after the inquest; and on the night succeeding
+that inquiry, Joyce went to the 'Jolly Tar', in the hope of seeing
+Jenny Milsom. But he was doomed to disappointment; for in the concert-
+room at Dennis Wayman's tavern he found a new singer--a fat, middle-
+aged woman, with red hair.
+
+"What has become of the pretty girl who used to sing here?" he asked
+the landlord.
+
+"Milsom's daughter?" said Wayman. "Oh, we've lost her She was a regular
+she-devil, it seems. Her father and she had a row, and the girl ran
+away. She can get her living anywhere with that voice of hers; and I
+don't suppose Milsom treated her over well. He's a rough fellow, but an
+honest one."
+
+"Yes," answered Joyce, with a sneer; "he seems uncommonly honest.
+There's a good deal of that sort of honesty about this neighbourhood, I
+think, mate. I suppose you've heard about my captain?"
+
+"Not a syllable. Is there anything wrong with him?"
+
+"Ah! news seems to travel slowly down here. There was an inquest held
+this morning, not so many miles from this house."
+
+The landlord shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"I've been busy in-doors all day, and I haven't heard anything," he
+said.
+
+Joyce told the story of his captain's fate, to which Dennis Wayman
+listened with every appearance of sympathy.
+
+"And you've no idea what has become of the girl?" Harker asked, after
+having concluded his story.
+
+"No more than the dead. She's cut and run, that's all I know."
+
+"Has her father gone after her?"
+
+"Not a bit of it. He's not that sort of man. She has chosen to take
+herself off, and her father will let her go her own way."
+
+"And her grandfather, the old blind man?"
+
+"He has gone with her."
+
+There was no more to be said about the girl after this.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Mr. Wayman," said Joyce, "I'm likely to be a
+good bit down in this neighbourhood, while I'm waiting for directions
+about my poor captain's ship from his brother Captain George, and as
+your house suits me as well as any other, I may as well take up my
+quarters here. I know you've got plenty of room, and you'll find me a
+quiet lodger."
+
+"So be it," answered the landlord, promptly. "I'm agreeable."
+
+Joyce deliberated profoundly as he walked away from the 'Jolly Tar'
+that night.
+
+"He's too deep to be caught easily," he thought. "He'll let me into his
+house, because he knows there's nothing I can find out, watch as I may.
+Such a murder as that leaves no trace behind it. If I had been able to
+get hold of the girl, I might have frightened her into telling me
+something; but it's clear to me she has really bolted, or Wayman would
+never let me into his house."
+
+For weeks Joyce Harker was a lodger at the 'Jolly Tar'; always on the
+watch; always ready to seize upon the smallest clue to the mystery of
+Valentine Jernam's death; but nothing came of his watching.
+
+The police did their best to discover the key to the dreadful secret;
+but they worked in vain. The dead man's money had been partly in notes
+and gold, partly in bills of exchange. It was easy enough to dispose of
+such bills in the City. There were men ready to take them at a certain
+price, and to send them abroad; men who never ask questions of their
+customers.
+
+So there was little chance of any light being thrown on this dark and
+evil mystery. Joyce watched and waited with dog-like fidelity, ready to
+seize upon the faintest clue; but he waited and watched in vain.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III.
+
+
+                              DISINHERITED.
+
+Nearly a year had elapsed since the murder of Valentine Jernam, and the
+March winds were blowing amongst the leafless branches of the trees in
+the Green Park.
+
+In the library of one of the finest houses in Arlington Street, a
+gentleman paced restlessly to and fro, stopping before one of the
+windows every now and then, to look, with a fretful glance, at the dull
+sky. "What weather!" he muttered: "what execrable weather!"
+
+The speaker was a man of some fifty years of age--a man who had been
+very handsome and who was handsome still--a man with a haughty
+patrician countenance--not easily forgotten by those who looked upon
+it. Sir Oswald Eversleigh, Baronet, was a descendant of one of the
+oldest families in Yorkshire. He was the owner of Raynham Castle, in
+Yorkshire; Eversleigh Manor, in Lincolnshire; and his property in those
+two counties constituted a rent-roll of forty thousand per annum.
+
+He was a bachelor, and having nearly reached his fiftieth year it was
+considered unlikely that he would marry.
+
+Such at least was the fixed idea of those who considered themselves the
+likely inheritors of the baronet's wealth. The chief of these was
+Reginald Eversleigh, his favourite nephew, the only son of a younger
+brother, who had fallen gloriously on an Indian battle-field.
+
+There were two other nephews who had some right to look forward to a
+share in the baronet's fortune. These were the two sons of Sir Oswald's
+only sister, who had married a country rector, called Dale. But Lionel
+and Douglas Dale were not the sort of young men who care to wait for
+dead men's shoes. They were sincerely attached to their uncle; but they
+carefully abstained from any demonstration of affection which could
+seem like worship of his wealth. The elder was preparing himself for
+the Church; the younger was established in chambers in the Temple,
+reading for the bar.
+
+It was otherwise with Reginald Eversleigh. From his early boyhood this
+young man had occupied the position of an adopted son rather than a
+nephew.
+
+There are some who can bear indulgence, some flowers that flourish best
+with tender rearing; but Reginald Eversleigh was not one of these.
+
+Sir Oswald was too generous a man to require much display of gratitude
+from the lad on whom he so freely lavished his wealth and his
+affection. When the boy showed himself proud and imperious, the baronet
+admired that high, and haughty spirit. When the boy showed himself
+reckless and extravagant in his expenditure of money, the baronet
+fancied that extravagance the proof of a generous disposition,
+overlooking the fact that it was only on his own pleasures that
+Reginald wasted his kinsman's money. When bad accounts came from the
+Eton masters and the Oxford tutors, Sir Oswald deluded himself with the
+belief that it was only natural for a high-spirited lad to be idle, and
+that, indeed, youthful idleness was often a proof of genius.
+
+But even the moral blindness of love cannot last for ever. The day came
+when the baronet awoke to the knowledge that his dead brother's only
+son was unworthy of his affection.
+
+The young man entered the army. His uncle purchased for him a
+commission in a crack cavalry regiment, and he began his military
+career under the most brilliant auspices. But from the day of his
+leaving his military tutor, until the present hour, Sir Oswald had been
+perpetually subject to the demands of his extravagance, and had of late
+suffered most bitterly from discoveries which had at last convinced him
+that his nephew was a villain.
+
+In ordinary matters, Sir Oswald Eversleigh was by no means a patient or
+long-suffering man; but he had exhibited extraordinary endurance in all
+his dealings with his nephew. The hour had now come when he could be
+patient no longer.
+
+He had written to his nephew, desiring him to call upon him at three
+o'clock on this day.
+
+The idea of this interview was most painful to him, for he had resolved
+that it should be the last between himself and Reginald Eversleigh. In
+this matter he had acted with no undue haste; for it had been
+unspeakably distressing to him to decide upon a step which would
+separate him for ever from the young man.
+
+As the timepiece struck three, Mr. Eversleigh was announced. He was a
+very handsome man; of a refined and aristocratic type, but of a type
+rather effeminate than powerful. And pervading his beauty, there was a
+winning charm of expression which few could resist. It was difficult to
+believe that Reginald Eversleigh could be mean or base. People liked
+him, and trusted him, in spite of themselves; and it was only when
+their confidence had been imposed upon, and their trust betrayed, that
+they learned to know how despicable the handsome young officer could
+be. Women did their best to spoil him; and his personal charms of face
+and manner, added to his brilliant expectations, rendered him an
+universal favourite in fashionable circles.
+
+He came to Arlington Street prepared to receive a lecture, and a severe
+one, for he knew that some of his late delinquencies had become known
+to Sir Oswald; but he trusted in the influence which he had always been
+able to exercise over his uncle, and he was determined to face the
+difficulty boldly, as he had faced it before.
+
+He entered the room with a smile, and advanced towards his uncle, with
+his hand outstretched.
+
+But Sir Oswald drew back, refusing that proffered hand.
+
+"I shake hands only with gentlemen and honest men," he said, haughtily.
+"You are neither, Mr. Eversleigh."
+
+Reginald had been used to hear his uncle address him in anger; but
+never before had Sir Oswald spoken to him in that tone of cool
+contempt. The colour faded from the young man's face, and he looked at
+his uncle with an expression of alarm.
+
+"My dear uncle!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Be pleased to forget that you have ever addressed me by that name, or
+that any relationship exists between us, Mr. Eversleigh," answered Sir
+Oswald, with unaltered sternness. "Sit down, if you please. Our
+interview is likely to be a long one."
+
+The young man seated himself in silence.
+
+"I have sent for you, Mr. Eversleigh," said the baronet, "because I
+wished to tell you, without passion, that the tie which has hitherto
+bound us has been completely broken. Heaven knows I have been patient;
+I have endured your misdoings, hoping that they were the thoughtless
+errors of youth, and not the deliberate sins of a hardened and wicked
+nature. I have trusted till I can trust no longer; I have hoped till I
+can hope no more. Within the past week I have learned to know you. An
+old friend, whose word I cannot doubt, whose honour is beyond all
+question, has considered it a duty to acquaint me with certain facts
+that have reached his knowledge, and has opened my eyes to your real
+character. I have given much time to reflection before determining on
+the course I shall pursue with one who has been so dear to me. You know
+me well enough to be aware that when once I do arrive at a decision,
+that decision is irrevocable. I wish to act with justice, even towards
+a scoundrel. I have brought you up with the habits of a rich man, and
+it is my duty to save you from absolute poverty. I have, therefore,
+ordered my solicitors to prepare a deed by which an income of two
+hundred a year will be secured to you for life, unconditionally. After
+the execution of that deed I shall have no further interest in your
+fate. You will go your own way, Mr. Eversleigh, and choose your own
+companions, without remonstrance or interference from the foolish
+kinsman who has loved you too well."
+
+"But, my dear uncle--Sir Oswald--what have I done that you should treat
+me so severely?"
+
+The young man was deadly pale. His uncle's manner had taken him by
+surprise; but even in this desperate moment, when he felt that all was
+lost, he attempted to assume the aspect of injured innocence.
+
+"What have you done!" cried the baronet, passionately.
+
+"Shall I show you two letters, Reginald Eversleigh--two letters which,
+by a strange combination of circumstances, have reached my hands; and
+in each of which there is the clue to a shameful story--a cruel and
+disgraceful story, of which you are the hero?"
+
+"What letters?"
+
+"You shall read them," replied Sir Oswald. "They are addressed to you,
+and have been in your possession; but to so fine a gentleman such
+letters were of little importance. Another person, however, thought
+them worth preserving, and sent them to me."
+
+The baronet took up two envelopes from the table, and handed them to
+his nephew.
+
+At the sight of the address of the uppermost envelope, Reginald
+Eversleigh's face grew livid. He looked at the lower, and then returned
+both documents to his uncle, with a hand that trembled in spite of
+himself.
+
+"I know nothing of the letters," he faltered, huskily.
+
+"You do not!" said his uncle; "then it will be necessary for me to
+enlighten you."
+
+Sir Oswald took a letter from one of the envelopes, but before reading
+it he looked at his nephew with a grave and mournful countenance, from
+which all traces of scorn had vanished.
+
+"Before I heard the history of this letter, I fully believed that, in
+spite of all your follies and extravagances, you were at least
+honourable and generous-hearted. After hearing the story of this
+letter, I knew you to be base and heartless. You say you know nothing
+of the letter? Perhaps you will tell me that you have forgotten the
+name of the writer. And yet you can scarcely have so soon forgotten
+Mary Goodwin."
+
+The young man bent his head. A terrible rage possessed him, for he knew
+that one of the darkest secrets of his life had been revealed to his
+uncle.
+
+"I will tell you the history of Mary Goodwin," said the baronet, "since
+you have so poor a memory. She was the favourite and foster-sister of
+Jane Stukely, a noble and beautiful woman, to whom you were engaged.
+You met Jane Stukely in London, fell in love with her as it seemed, and
+preferred your suit. You were accepted by her--approved by her father.
+No alliance could have been more advantageous. I was never better
+pleased than when you announced to me your engagement. The influence of
+a good wife will cure him of all his follies, I thought, and I shall
+yet have reason to be proud of my nephew."
+
+"Spare me, sir, for pity's sake," murmured Reginald, hoarsely.
+
+"When did you spare others, Mr. Reginald Eversleigh? When did you
+consider others, if they stood in the way of your base pleasures, your
+selfish gratifications? Never! Nor will I spare you. As Jane's engaged
+lover, you were invited to Stukely Park. There you saw Mary Goodwin.
+Accident threw you across this girl's pathway very often in the course
+of your visit; but the time came when you ceased to meet by accident.
+There were secret meetings in the park. The poor, weak, deluded girl
+could not resist the fascinations of the fine gentleman--who lured her
+to destruction by means of lying promises. In due time you left Stukely
+Park, unsuspected. Within a few days of your departure, the girl, Mary
+Goodwin, disappeared.
+
+"For six months nothing was heard of the missing Mary Goodwin; but at
+the end of that time a gentleman, who remembered her in the days of her
+beauty and innocence at Stukely Park, recognized the features of Miss
+Stukely's _protegee_ in the face of a suicide, whose body was exhibited
+in the Morgue at Paris. The girl had been found drowned. The Englishman
+paid the charges of a decent funeral, and took back to the Stukelys the
+intelligence of their _protegee's_ fate; but no one knew the secret of
+her destruction. That secret was, however, suspected by Jane Stukely,
+who broke her engagement with you on the strength of the dark
+suspicion.
+
+"It was to you she fled when she left Stukely Park--in your
+companionship she went abroad, where she passed as your wife, you
+assuming a false name--under which you were recognized, nevertheless.
+The day came when you grew weary of your victim. When your funds were
+exhausted, when the girl's tears and penitence grew troublesome--in the
+hour when she was most helpless and miserable, and had most need of
+your pity and protection, you abandoned her, leaving her alone in
+Paris, with a few pounds to pay for her journey home, if she should
+have courage to go back to the friends who had sheltered her. In this
+hour of abandonment and shame, she chose death rather than such an
+ordeal, and drowned herself."
+
+"I give you my honour, Sir Oswald, I meant to act liberally. I
+meant,"--the young man interrupted; but his uncle did not notice the
+interruption.
+
+"I will read you this wretched girl's letter," continued the baronet;
+"it is her last, and was left at the hotel where you deserted her, and
+whence it was forwarded to you. It is a very simple letter; but it
+bears in every line the testimony of a broken heart:--
+
+"'_You have left me, Reginald, and in so doing have proved to me most
+fully that the love you once felt for me has indeed perished. For the
+sake of that love I have sacrificed every principle and broken every
+tie. I have disgraced the name of an honest family, and have betrayed
+the dearest and kindest friend who ever protected a poor girl. And now
+you leave me, and tell me to return to my old friends, who will no
+doubt forgive me, you say, and shelter me in this bitter time of my
+disgrace. Oh, Reginald, do you know me so little that you think I could
+go back, could lift my eyes once more to the dear faces that used to
+smile upon me, but which now would turn from me with loathing and
+aversion? You know that I cannot go back. You leave me in this great
+city, so strange and unknown to me, and you do not care to ask yourself
+any questions as to my probable fate. Shall I tell you what I am going
+to do, Reginald? You, who were once so fond and passionate a lover--
+you, whom I have seen kneeling at my feet, humbly born and penniless
+though I was--it is only right that you should know the fate of your
+abandoned mistress. When I have finished this letter it will be dark--
+the shadows are closing in already, and I can scarcely see to write. I
+shall creep quietly from the house, and shall make my way over to that
+river which I have crossed so often, seated by your side in a carriage.
+Once on the bridge, under cover of the blessed darkness, all my
+troubles will be ended; you will be burdened with me no longer, and I
+shall not cost you even the ten-pound note which you so generously left
+for me, and which I shall enclose in this letter. Forgive me if there
+is some bitterness in my heart. I try to forgive you--I do forgive you!
+May a merciful heaven pardon my sins, as I pardon your desertion of
+me_!    M.G.'"
+
+There was a pause after the reading of the letter--a silence which Mr.
+Eversleigh did not attempt to break. "The second letter I need
+scarcely read to you," said the baronet; "it is from a young man whom
+you were pleased to patronize some twelve months back--a young man in a
+banking office, aspiring and ambitious, whose chief weakness was the
+desire to penetrate the mystic circle of fashionable society. You were
+good enough to indulge that weakness at your own price, and for your
+own profit. You initiated the banker's clerk into the mysteries of
+card-playing and billiards. You won money of him--more than he had to
+lose; and after being the kindest and most indulgent of friends, you
+became all at once a stern and pitiless creditor. You threatened the
+bank-clerk with disgrace if he did not pay his losses. He wrote you
+pleading letters; but you laughed to scorn his prayers for mercy, and
+at last, maddened by shame, he helped himself to the money entrusted to
+him by his employers, in order to pay you. Discovery came, as discovery
+always does come, sooner or later, in these cases, and your friend and
+victim was transported. Before leaving England he wrote you a letter,
+imploring you to have some compassion on his widowed mother, whom his
+disgrace had deprived of all support. I wonder how much heed you took
+of that letter, Mr. Eversleigh? I wonder what you did towards the
+consolation of the helpless and afflicted woman who owed her
+misfortunes to you?"
+
+The young officer dared not lift his eyes to his uncle's face; the
+consciousness of guilt rendered him powerless to utter a word in his
+defence.
+
+"I have little more to say to you," resumed the baronet. "I have loved
+you as a man rarely loves his nephew. I have loved you for the sake of
+the brother who died in my arms, and for the sake of one who was even
+dearer to me than that only brother--for the sake of the woman whom we
+both loved, and who made her choice between us--choosing the younger
+and poorer brother, and retaining to her dying day the affection and
+esteem of the elder. I loved your mother, Reginald Eversleigh, and when
+she died, within one short year of her husband's death, I swore that
+her only child should be as dear to me as a son. I have kept that
+promise. Few parents can find patience to forgive such follies as I
+have forgiven. But my endurance is exhausted; my affection has been
+worn out by your heartlessness: henceforward we are strangers."
+
+"You cannot mean this, sir?" murmured Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+There was a terrible fear at his heart--an inward conviction that his
+uncle was in earnest.
+
+"My solicitors will furnish you with all particulars of the deed I
+spoke of," said Sir Oswald, without noticing his nephew's appealing
+tones. "That deed will secure to you two hundred a year. You have a
+soldier's career before you, and you are young enough to redeem the
+past--at any rate, in the eyes of the world, if not before the sight of
+heaven. If you find your regiment too expensive for your altered means,
+I would recommend you to exchange into the line. And now, Mr.
+Eversleigh, I wish you good morning."
+
+"But, Sir Oswald--uncle--my dear uncle--you cannot surely cast me off
+thus coldly--you--"
+
+The baronet rang the bell.
+
+"The door--for Mr. Eversleigh," he said to the servant who answered his
+summons.
+
+The young man rose, looking at his kinsman with an incredulous gaze.
+He could not believe that all his hopes were utterly ruined; that he
+was, indeed, cast off with a pittance which to him seemed positively
+despicable.
+
+But there was no hope to be derived from Sir Oswald's face. A mask of
+stone could not have been more inflexible.
+
+"Good morning, sir," said Reginald, in accents that were tremulous with
+suppressed rage.
+
+He could say no more, for the servant was in attendance, and he could
+not humiliate himself before the man who had been wont to respect him
+as Sir Oswald Eversleigh's heir. He took up his hat and cane, bowed to
+the baronet, and left the room.
+
+Once beyond the doors of his uncle's mansion, Reginald Eversleigh
+abandoned himself to the rage that possessed him.
+
+"He shall repent this," he muttered. "Yes; powerful as he is, he shall
+repent having used his power. As if I had not suffered enough already;
+as if I had not been haunted perpetually by that girl's pale,
+reproachful face, ever since the fatal hour in which I abandoned her.
+But those letters; how could they have fallen into my uncle's hands?
+That scoundrel, Laston, must have stolen them, in revenge for his
+dismissal."
+
+He went to the loneliest part of the Green Park, and, stretched at full
+length upon a bench, abandoned himself to gloomy reflections, with his
+face hidden by his folded arms.
+
+For hours he lay thus, while the bleak March winds whistled loud and
+shrill in the leafless trees above his head--while the cold, gray light
+of the sunless day faded into the shadows of evening. It was past seven
+o'clock, and the lamps in Piccadilly shone brightly, when he rose,
+chilled to the bone, and walked away from the park.
+
+"And I am to consider myself rich--with my pay and fifty pounds a
+quarter," he muttered, with a bitter laugh; "and if I find a crack
+cavalry regiment too expensive, I am to exchange into the line--turn
+foot-soldier, and face the scornful looks of all my old acquaintances.
+No, no, Sir Oswald Eversleigh; you have brought me up as a gentleman,
+and a gentleman I will remain to the end of the chapter, let who will
+pay the cost. It may seem easy to cast me off, Sir Oswald; but we have
+not done with each other yet."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+                           OUT OF THE DEPTHS.
+
+After dismissing his nephew, Sir Oswald Eversleigh abandoned himself
+for some time to gloomy thought. The trial had been a very bitter one;
+but at length, arousing himself from that gloomy reverie, he said
+aloud, "Thank Heaven it is over; my resolution did not break down, and
+the link is broken."
+
+Sir Oswald had made his arrangements for leaving London that afternoon,
+on the first stage of his journey to Raynham Castle. There were few
+railroads six-and-twenty years ago, and the baronet was in the habit of
+travelling in his own carriage, with post-horses. The journey from
+London to the far north of Yorkshire was, therefore, a long one,
+occupying two or three days.
+
+Sir Oswald left town an hour after his interview with Reginald
+Eversleigh.
+
+It was ten o'clock when he alighted for the first time in a large,
+bustling town on the great northern road. He had changed horses several
+times since leaving London, and had accomplished a considerable
+distance within the five hours. He put up at the principal hotel, where
+he intended to remain for the night. From the windows of his rooms was
+to be seen the broad, open market-place, which to-night was brilliantly
+lighted, and thronged with people. Sir Oswald looked with surprise at
+the bustling scene, as one of the waiters drew the curtains before the
+long windows.
+
+"Your town seems busy to-night," he said.
+
+"Yes, sir; there has been a fair, sir--our spring fair, sir--a cattle
+fair, sir. Perhaps you'd rather not have the curtains drawn, sir. You
+may like to look out of the window after dinner, sir."
+
+"Look out of the window?--oh, dear no! Close the curtains by all
+means."
+
+The waiter wondered at the gentleman's bad taste, and withdrew to
+hasten the well-known guest's dinner.
+
+It was long past eleven, and Sir Oswald was sitting brooding before the
+fire, when he was startled from his reverie by the sound of a woman's
+voice singing in the market-place below. The streets had been for some
+time deserted, the shops closed, the lights extinguished, except a few
+street-lamps, flickering feebly here and there. All was quiet, and the
+voice of the street ballad-singer sounded full and clear in the
+stillness.
+
+Sir Oswald Eversleigh was in no humour to listen to street-singers. It
+must needs be some voice very far removed from common voices which
+could awaken him from his gloomy abstraction.
+
+It was, indeed, an uncommon voice, such a voice as one rarely hears
+beyond the walls of the Italian opera-house--such a voice as is not
+often heard even within those walls. Full, clear, and rich, the
+melodious accents sent a thrill to the innermost heart of the listener.
+
+The song which the vagrant was singing was the simplest of ballads. It
+was "Auld Robin Gray."
+
+While he sat by the fire, listening to that familiar ballad, Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh forgot his sorrow and indignation--forgot his nephew's
+baseness, forgot everything, except the voice of the woman singing in
+the deserted market-place below the windows.
+
+He went to one of the windows, and drew back the curtain. The night was
+cold and boisterous; but a full moon was shining in a clear sky, and
+every object in the broad street was visible in that penetrating light.
+
+The windows of Sir Oswald's sitting-room opened upon a balcony. He
+lifted the sash, and stepped out into the chill night air. He saw the
+figure of a woman moving a way from the pavement before the hotel very
+slowly, with a languid, uncertain step. Presently he saw her totter and
+pause, as if scarcely able to proceed. Then she moved unsteadily
+onwards for a few paces, and at last sank down upon a door-step, with
+the helpless motion of utter exhaustion.
+
+He did not stop to watch, longer from the balcony. He went back to his
+room, snatched up his hat, and hurried down stairs. They were beginning
+to close the establishment for the night, and the waiters stared as Sir
+Oswald passed them on his way to the street.
+
+In the market-place nothing was stirring. The baronet could see the
+dark figure of the woman still in the same attitude into which he had
+seen her sink when she fell exhausted on the door-step, half-sitting,
+half-lying on the stone.
+
+Sir Oswald hurried to the spot where the woman had sunk down, and bent
+over her. Her arms were folded on the stone, her head lying on her
+folded arms.
+
+"Why are you lying there, my good girl?" asked Sir Oswald, gently.
+
+Something in the slender figure told him that the ballad-singer was
+young, though he could not see her face.
+
+She lifted her head slowly, with a languid action, and looked up at the
+speaker.
+
+"Where else should I go?" she asked, in bitter tones.
+
+"Have you no home?"
+
+"Home!" echoed the girl. "I have never had what gentlemen like you call
+a home."
+
+"But where are you going to-night?"
+
+"To the fields--to some empty barn, if I can find one with a door
+unfastened, into which I may creep. I have been singing all day, and
+have not earned money enough to pay for a lodging."
+
+The full moon shone broad and clear upon the girl's face. Looking at
+her by that silvery light, Sir Oswald saw that she was very beautiful.
+
+"Have you been long leading this miserable life?" Sir Oswald asked her
+presently.
+
+"My life has been one long misery," answered the ballad-singer.
+
+"How long have you been singing in the streets?"
+
+"I have been singing about the country for two years; not always in the
+streets, for some time I was in a company of show-people; but the
+mistress of the show treated me badly, and I left her. Since then I
+have been wandering about from place to place, singing in the streets
+on market-days, and singing at fairs."
+
+The girl said all this in a dull, mechanical way, as if she were
+accustomed to be called on to render an account of herself.
+
+"And before you took to this kind of life," said the baronet, strangely
+interested in this vagrant girl; "how did you get your living before
+then?"
+
+"I lived with my father," answered the girl, in an altered tone. "Have
+you finished your questions?"
+
+She shuddered slightly, and rose from her crouching attitude. The moon
+still shone upon her face, intensifying its deathlike pallor.
+
+"See," said her unknown questioner, "here are a couple of sovereigns.
+You need not wander into the open country to look for an empty barn.
+You can procure shelter at some respectable inn. Or stay, it is close
+upon midnight: you might find it difficult to get admitted to any
+respectable house at such an hour. You had better come with me to my
+hotel yonder, the 'Star'--the landlady is a kind-hearted creature, and
+will see you comfortably lodged. Come!"
+
+The girl stood before Sir Oswald, shivering in the bleak wind, with a
+thin black shawl wrapped tightly around her, and her dark brown hair
+blown away from her face by that bitter March wind. She looked at him
+with unutterable surprise in her countenance.
+
+"You are very good," she said; "no one of your class ever before
+stepped out of his way to help me. Poor people have been kind to me--
+often--very often. You are very good."
+
+There was more of astonishment than pleasure in the girl's tone. It
+seemed as if she cared very little about her own fate, and that her
+chief feeling was surprise at the goodness of this fine gentleman.
+
+"Do not speak of that," said Sir Oswald, gently; "I am anxious to get
+you a decent shelter for the night, but that is a very small favour. I
+happen to be something of a musician, and I have been much struck by
+the beauty of your voice. I may be able to put you in the way of making
+good use of your voice."
+
+"Of my voice!"
+
+The girl echoed the phrase as if it had no meaning to her.
+
+"Come," said her benefactor, "you are weary, and ill, perhaps. You look
+terribly pale. Come to the hotel, and I will place you in the
+landlady's charge."
+
+He walked on, and the girl walked by his side, very slowly, as if she
+had scarcely sufficient strength to carry her even that short distance.
+
+There was something strange in the circumstance of Sir Oswald's meeting
+with this girl. There was something strange in the sudden interest
+which she had aroused in him--the eager desire which he felt to learn
+her previous history.
+
+The mistress of the "Star Hotel" was somewhat surprised when one of the
+waiters summoned her to the hall, where the street-singer was standing
+by Sir Oswald's side; but she was too clever a woman to express her
+astonishment. Sir Oswald was one of her most influential patrons, and
+Sir Oswald's custom was worth a great deal. It was, therefore, scarcely
+possible that such a man could do wrong.
+
+"I found this poor girl in an exhausted state in the street just now,"
+said Sir Oswald. "She is quite friendless, and has no shelter for the
+night, though she seems above the mendicant class. Will you put her
+somewhere, and see that she is taken good care of, my dear Mrs. Willet?
+In the morning I may be able to think of some plan for placing her in a
+more respectable position."
+
+Mrs. Willet promised that the girl should be taken care of, and made
+thoroughly comfortable. "Poor young thing," said the landlady, "she
+looks dreadfully pale and ill, and I'm sure she'll be none the worse
+for a nice little bit of supper. Come with me, my dear."
+
+The girl obeyed; but on the threshold of the hall she turned and spoke
+to Sir Oswald.
+
+"I thank you," she said; "I thank you with all my heart and soul for
+your goodness. I have never met with such kindness before."
+
+"The world must have been very hard for you, my poor child," he
+replied, "if such small kindness touches you so deeply. Come to me to-
+morrow morning, and we will talk of your future life. Goodnight!"
+
+"Good night, sir, and God bless you!"
+
+The baronet went slowly and thoughtfully up the broad staircase, on his
+way to his rooms.
+
+Sir Oswald Eversleigh passed the night of his sojourn at the 'Star' in
+broken slumbers. The events of the preceding day haunted him
+perpetually in his sleep, acting themselves over and over again in his
+brain. Sometimes he was with his nephew, and the young man was pleading
+with him in an agony of selfish terror; sometimes he was standing in
+the market-place, with the ghost-like figure of the vagrant ballad-
+singer by his side.
+
+When he arose in the morning, Sir Oswald resolved to dismiss all
+thought of his nephew. His strange adventure of the previous night had
+exercised a very powerful influence upon his mind; and it was upon that
+adventure he meditated while he breakfasted.
+
+"I have seen a landscape, which had no special charm in broad daylight,
+transformed into a glimpse of paradise by the magic of the moon," he
+mused as he lingered over his breakfast. "Perhaps this girl is a very
+ordinary creature after all--a mere street wanderer, coarse and
+vulgar."
+
+But Sir Oswald stopped himself, remembering the refined tones of the
+voice which he had heard last night--the perfect self-possession of the
+girl's manner.
+
+"No," he exclaimed, "she is neither coarse nor vulgar; she is no common
+street ballad-singer. Whatever she is, or whoever she is, there is a
+mystery around and about her--a mystery which it shall be my business
+to fathom."
+
+When he had breakfasted, Sir Oswald Eversleigh sent for the ballad-
+singer.
+
+"Be good enough to tell the young person that if she feels herself
+sufficiently rested and refreshed, I should like much to have a few
+minutes' conversation with her," said the baronet to the head-waiter.
+
+In a few minutes the waiter returned, and ushered in the girl. Sir
+Oswald turned to look at her, possessed by a curiosity which was
+utterly unwarranted by the circumstances. It was not the first time in
+his life that he had stepped aside from his pathway to perform an act
+of charity; but it certainly was the first time he had ever felt so
+absorbing an interest in the object of his benevolence.
+
+The girl's beauty had been no delusion engendered of the moonlight.
+Standing before him, in the broad sunlight, she seemed even yet more
+beautiful, for her loveliness was more fully visible.
+
+The ballad-singer betrayed no signs of embarrassment under Sir Oswald's
+searching gaze. She stood before her benefactor with calm grace; and
+there was something almost akin to pride in her attitude. Her garments
+were threadbare and shabby: yet on her they did not appear the garments
+of a vagrant. Her dress was of some rusty black stuff, patched and
+mended in a dozen places; but it fitted her neatly, and a clean linen
+collar surrounded her slender throat, which was almost as white as the
+linen. Her waving brown hair was drawn away from her face in thick
+bands, revealing the small, rosy-tinted ear. The dark brown of that
+magnificent hair contrasted with the ivory white of a complexion which
+was only relieved by transient blushes of faint rose-colour, that came
+and went with emotion or excitement.
+
+"Be good enough to take a seat," said Sir Oswald: "I wish to have a
+little conversation with you. I want to help you, if I can. You do not
+seem fitted for the life you are leading; and I am convinced that you
+possess talent which would elevate you to a far higher sphere. But
+before we talk of the future, I must ask you to tell me something of
+the past."
+
+"Tell me," he continued, gently, "how is it that you are so friendless?
+How is it that your father and mother allow you to lead such an
+existence?"
+
+"My mother died when I was a child," answered the girl.
+
+"And your father?"
+
+"My father is dead also."
+
+"You did not tell me that last night," replied the baronet, with some
+touch of suspicion in his tone, for he fancied the girl's manner had
+changed when she spoke of her father.
+
+"Did I not?" she said, quietly. "I do not think you asked me any
+question about my father; but if you did, I may have answered at
+random; I was confused last night from exhaustion and want of rest, and
+I scarcely knew what I said."
+
+"What was your father?"
+
+"He was a sailor."
+
+"There is something that is scarcely English in your face," said Sir
+Oswald; "were you born in England?"
+
+"No, I was born in Florence; my mother was a Florentine."
+
+"Indeed."
+
+There was a pause. It seemed evident that this girl did not care to
+tell the story of her past life, and that whatever information the
+baronet wanted to obtain, must be extorted from her little by little. A
+common vagrant would have been eager to pour out some tale of misery,
+true or false, in the hearing of the man who promised to be her
+benefactor; but this girl maintained a reserve which Sir Oswald found
+it very difficult to penetrate.
+
+"I fear there is something of a painful nature in your past history,"
+he said, at last; "something which you do not care to reveal."
+
+"There is much that is painful, much that I cannot tell."
+
+"And yet you must be aware that it will be very difficult for me to
+give you assistance if I do not know to whom I am giving it. I wish to
+place you in a position very different from that which you now occupy;
+but it would be folly to interest myself in a person of whose history I
+positively know nothing."
+
+"Then dismiss from your mind all thoughts of me, and let me go my own
+way," answered the girl, with that calm pride of manner which imparted
+a singular charm to her beauty. "I shall leave this house grateful and
+contented; I have asked nothing from you, nor did I intend to ask
+anything. You have been very good to me; you took compassion upon me in
+my misery, and I have been accustomed to see people of your class pass
+me by. Let me thank you for your goodness, and go on my way." So
+saying, she rose, and turned as if to leave the room.
+
+"No!" cried Sir Oswald, impetuously; "I cannot let you go. I must help
+you in some manner--even if you will throw no light upon your past
+existence; even if I must act entirely in the dark."
+
+"You are too good, sir," replied the girl, deeply touched; "but
+remember that I do not ask your help. My history is a terrible one. I
+have suffered from the crimes of others; but neither crime nor
+dishonour have sullied my own life. I have lived amongst people I
+despised, holding myself aloof as far as was possible. I have been
+laughed at, hated, ill-used for that which has been called pride; but I
+have at least preserved myself unpolluted by the corruption that
+surrounded me. If you can believe this, if you can take me upon trust,
+and stretch forth your hand to help me, knowing no more of me than I
+have now told you, I shall accept your assistance proudly and
+gratefully. But if you cannot believe, let me go my own way."
+
+"I will trust you," he said; "I will help you, blindly, since it must
+be so. Let me ask you two or three questions, then all questioning
+between us shall be at an end."
+
+"I am ready to answer any inquiry that it is possible for me to
+answer."
+
+"Your name?"
+
+"My name is Honoria Milford."
+
+"Your age?"
+
+"Eighteen."
+
+"Tell me, how is it that your manner of speaking, your tones of voice,
+are those of a person who has received a superior education?"
+
+"I am not entirely uneducated. An Italian priest, a cousin of my poor
+mother's, bestowed some care upon me when I was in Florence. He was a
+very learned man, and taught me much that is rarely taught to a girl of
+fourteen or fifteen. His house was my refuge in days of cruel misery,
+and his teaching was the only happiness of my life. And now, sir,
+question me no further, I entreat you."
+
+"Very well, then, I will ask no more; and I will trust you."
+
+"I thank you, sir, for your generous confidence."
+
+"And now I will tell you my plans for your future welfare," Sir Oswald
+continued, kindly. "I was thinking much of you while I breakfasted. You
+have a very magnificent voice; and it is upon that voice you must
+depend for the future. Are you fond of music?"
+
+"I am very fond of it."
+
+There was little in the girl's words, but the tone in which they were
+spoken, the look of inspiration which lighted up the speaker's face,
+convinced Sir Oswald that she was an enthusiast.
+
+"Do you play the piano?"
+
+"A little; by ear."
+
+"And you know nothing of the science of music?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Then you will have a great deal to learn before you can make any
+profitable use of your voice. And now I will tell you what I shall do.
+I shall make immediate arrangements for placing you in a first-class
+boarding school in London, or the neighbourhood of London. There you
+will complete your education, and there you will receive lessons from
+the best masters in music and singing, and devote the greater part of
+your time to the cultivation of your voice. It will be known that you
+are intended for the career of a professional singer, and every
+facility will be afforded you for study. You will remain in this
+establishment for two years, and at the end of that time I shall place
+you under the tuition of some eminent singer, who will complete your
+musical education, and enable you to appear as a public singer. All the
+rest will depend on your own industry and perseverance."
+
+"And I should be a worthless creature if I were not more industrious
+than ever any woman was before!" exclaimed Honoria. "Oh, sir, how can I
+find words to thank you?"
+
+"You have no need to thank me. I am a rich man, with neither wife nor
+child upon whom to waste my money. Besides, if you find the obligation
+too heavy to bear, you can repay me when you become a distinguished
+singer."
+
+"I will work hard to hasten that day, sir," answered the girl,
+earnestly.
+
+Sir Oswald had spoken thus lightly, in order to set his _protegee_ more
+at her ease. He saw that her eyes were filled with tears, and moving to
+the window to give her time to recover herself, stood for some minutes
+looking out into the market-place. Then he came back to his easy chair
+by the fire, and addressed her once more.
+
+"I shall post up to town this afternoon to make the arrangements of
+which I have spoken," he said; "you, in the meantime, will remain under
+the care of Mrs. Willet, to whom I shall entrust the purchase of your
+wardrobe. When that has been prepared, you will come straight to my
+house in Arlington Street, whence I will myself conduct you to the
+school I may have chosen as your residence. Remember, that from to-day
+you will begin a new life. Ah, by the bye, there is one other question
+I must ask. You have no relations, no associates of the past who are
+likely to torment you in the future?"
+
+"None. I have no relations who would dare approach me, and I have
+always held myself aloof from all associates."
+
+"Good, then the future lies clear before you. And now you can return to
+Mrs. Willet. I will see her presently, and make all arrangements for
+your comfort."
+
+Honoria curtseyed to her benefactor, and left the room in silence. Her
+every gesture and her every tone were those of a lady. Sir Oswald
+looked after her with wonder, as she disappeared from the apartment.
+
+The landlady of the "Star" was very much surprised when Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh requested her to keep the ballad-singer in her charge for a
+week, and to purchase for her a simple but thoroughly complete
+wardrobe.
+
+"And now," said Sir Oswald, "I confide her to you for a week, Mrs.
+Willet, at the end of which time I hope her wardrobe will be ready. I
+will write you a cheque for--say fifty pounds. If that is not enough,
+you can have more."
+
+"Lor' bless you, Sir Oswald, it's more than enough to set her up like a
+duchess, in a manner of speaking," answered the landlady; and then,
+seeing Sir Oswald had no more to say to her, she curtseyed and
+withdrew.
+
+Sir Oswald Eversleigh's carriage was at the door of the "Star" at noon;
+and at ten minutes after twelve the baronet was on his way back to
+town.
+
+He visited a great many West-end boarding-schools before he found one
+that satisfied him in every particular. Had his _protegee_ been his
+daughter, or his affianced wife, he could not have been more difficult
+to please. He wondered at his own fastidiousness.
+
+"I am like a child with a new toy," he thought, almost ashamed of the
+intense interest he felt in this unknown girl.
+
+At last he found an establishment that pleased him; a noble old mansion
+at Fulham, surrounded by splendid grounds, and presided over by two
+maiden sisters. It was a thoroughly aristocratic seminary, and the
+ladies who kept it knew how to charge for the advantages of their
+establishment. Sir Oswald assented immediately to the Misses Beaumonts'
+terms, and promised to bring the expected pupil in less than a week's
+time.
+
+"The young lady is a relation, I presume, Sir Oswald?" said the elder
+Miss Beaumont.
+
+"Yes," answered the baronet; "she is--a distant relative."
+
+If he had not been standing with his back to the light, the two ladies
+might have seen a dusky flush suffuse his face as he pronounced these
+words. Never before had he told so deliberate a falsehood. But he had
+feared to tell the truth.
+
+"They will never guess her secret from her manner," he thought; "and if
+they question her, she will know how to baffle their curiosity."
+
+On the very day that ended the stipulated week, Honoria Milford made
+her appearance in Arlington Street. Sir Oswald was in his library,
+seated in an easy-chair before the fire-place, with a book in his hand,
+but with no power to concentrate his attention to its pages. He was
+sitting thus when the door was opened, and a servant announced--
+
+"Miss Milford!"
+
+Sir Oswald rose from his chair, and beheld an elegant young lady, who
+approached him with a graceful timidity of manner. She was simply
+dressed in gray merino, a black silk mantle, and a straw bonnet,
+trimmed with white ribbon. Nothing could have been more Quaker-like
+than the simplicity of this costume, and yet there was an elegance
+about the wearer which the baronet had seldom seen surpassed.
+
+He rose to welcome her.
+
+"You have just arrived in town?" he said.
+
+"Yes, Sir Oswald; a hackney-coach brought me here from the coach-
+office."
+
+"I am very glad to see you," said the baronet, holding out his hand,
+which Honoria Milford touched lightly with her own neatly gloved
+fingers; "and I am happy to tell you that I have secured you a home
+which I think you will like."
+
+"Oh, Sir Oswald, you are only too good to me. I shall never know how to
+thank you."
+
+"Then do not thank me at all. Believe me, I desire no thanks. I have
+done nothing worthy of gratitude. An influence stronger than my own
+will has drawn me towards you; and in doing what I can to befriend you,
+I am only giving way to an impulse which I am powerless to resist."
+
+The girl looked at her benefactor with a bewildered expression, and Sir
+Oswald interpreted the look.
+
+"Yes," he said, "you may well be astonished by what I tell you. I am
+astonished myself. There is something mysterious in the interest which
+you have inspired in my mind."
+
+Although the baronet had thought continually of his _protegee_ during
+the past week, he had never asked himself if there might not be some
+simple and easy solution possible for this bewildering enigma. He had
+never asked himself if it were not just within the limits of
+possibility that a man of fifty might fall a victim to that fatal fever
+called love.
+
+He looked at the girl's beautiful face with the admiration which every
+man feels for the perfection of beauty--the pure, calm, reverential
+feeling of an artist, or a poet--and he never supposed it possible that
+the day might not be far distant when he would contemplate that lovely
+countenance with altered sentiments, with a deeper emotion.
+
+"Come to the dining-room, Miss Milford," he said; "I expected you to-
+day--I have made all my arrangements accordingly. You must be hungry
+after your journey; and as I have not yet lunched, I hope you will
+share my luncheon?"
+
+Honoria assented. Her manner towards her benefactor was charming in its
+quiet grace, deferential without being sycophantic--the manner of a
+daughter rather than a dependent Before leaving the library, she looked
+round at the books, the bronzes, the pictures, with admiring eyes.
+Never before had she seen so splendid an apartment: and she possessed
+that intuitive love of beautiful objects which is the attribute of all
+refined and richly endowed natures.
+
+The baronet placed his ward on one side of the table, and seated
+himself opposite to her.
+
+No servant waited upon them. Sir Oswald himself attended to the wants
+of his guest. He heaped her plate with dainties; he filled her glass
+with rare old wine; but she ate only a few mouthfuls, and she could
+drink nothing. The novelty of her present position was too full of
+excitement.
+
+During the whole of the repast the baronet asked her no questions. He
+talked as if they had long been known to each other, explaining to her
+the merits of the different pictures and statues which she admired,
+pleased to find her intelligence always on a level with his own.
+
+"She is a wonderful creature," he thought; "a wonderful creature--a
+priceless pearl picked up out of the gutter."
+
+After luncheon Sir Oswald rang for his carriage, and presently Honoria
+Milford found herself on her way to her new home.
+
+The mansion inhabited by the Misses Beaumont was called "The Beeches."
+It had of old been the seat of a nobleman, and the grounds which
+encircled it were such as are rarely to be found within a few miles of
+the metropolis; and they would in vain be sought for now. Shabby little
+streets and terraces cover the ground where grand old cedars of Lebanon
+cast their dark shadows on the smooth turf seven-and-twenty years ago.
+
+Honoria Milford was enraptured with the beauty of her new home. That
+stately mansion, shut in by noble old trees from all the dust and
+clamour of the outer world; those smooth lawns, and exquisitely kept
+beds, filled with flowers even in this chill spring weather, must have
+seemed beautiful to those accustomed to handsome habitations. What must
+they have been then to the wanderer of the streets--the friendless
+tramp--who a week ago had depended for a night's rest on the chance of
+finding an empty barn.
+
+She looked at her benefactor with eyes that were dim with tears, as the
+carriage approached this delightful retreat.
+
+"If I were your daughter, you could not have chosen a better place than
+this," she said.
+
+"If you were my daughter, I doubt if I could feel a deeper interest in
+your fate than I feel now," answered Sir Oswald, quietly.
+
+Miss Beaumont the elder received her pupil with ceremonious kindness.
+She looked at the girl with the keen glance of examination which
+becomes habitual to the eye of the schoolmistress; but the most severe
+scrutiny would have failed to detect anything unladylike or ungraceful
+in the deportment of Honoria Milford.
+
+"The young lady is charming," said Miss Beaumont, confidentially, as
+the baronet was taking leave; "any one could guess that she was an
+Eversleigh. She is so elegant, so patrician in face and manner. Ah, Sir
+Oswald, the good old blood will show itself."
+
+The baronet smiled as he bade adieu to the schoolmistress. He had told
+Honoria that policy had compelled him to speak of her as a distant
+relative of his own; and there was no fear that the girl would betray
+herself or him by any awkward admissions.
+
+Sir Oswald felt depressed and gloomy as he drove back to town. It
+seemed to him as if, in parting from his _protegee_, he had lost
+something that was necessary to his happiness.
+
+"I have not spent half a dozen hours in her society," he thought, "and
+yet she occupies my mind more than my nephew, Reginald, who for fifteen
+years of my life has been the object of so much hope, so many cares.
+What does it all mean? What is the key to this mystery?"
+
+       *       *        *        *        *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER V.
+
+
+                        "EVIL, BE THOU MY GOOD."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was handsome, accomplished, agreeable--irresistible
+when he chose, many people said; but he was not richly endowed with
+those intellectual gifts which lift a man to either the good or bad
+eminence. He was weak and vacillating--one minute swayed by a good
+influence, a transient touch of penitence, affection, or generosity; in
+the next given over entirely to his own selfishness, thinking only of
+his own enjoyment. He was apt to be influenced by any friend or
+companion endowed with intellectual superiority; and he possessed such
+a friend in the person of Victor Carrington, a young surgeon, a man
+infinitely below Mr. Eversleigh in social status, but whose talents,
+united to tact, had lifted him above his natural level.
+
+The young surgeon was a slim, elegant-looking young man, with a pale,
+sallow face, and flashing black eyes. His appearance was altogether
+foreign, and although his own name was English, he was half a
+Frenchman, his mother being a native of Bordeaux. This widowed mother
+now lived with him, dependent on him, and loving him with a devoted
+affection.
+
+From a chance meeting in a public billiard-room, an intimacy arose
+between Victor Carrington and Reginald Eversleigh, which speedily
+ripened into friendship. The weaker nature was glad to find a stronger
+on which to lean. Reginald Eversleigh invited his new friend to his
+rooms--to champagne breakfasts, to suppers of broiled bones, eaten long
+after midnight: to card-parties, at which large sums of money were lost
+and won; but the losers were never Victor Carrington or Reginald
+Eversleigh, and there were men who said that Eversleigh was a more
+dangerous opponent at loo and whist since he had picked up that fellow
+Carrington.
+
+"I always feel afraid of Eversleigh, when that sallow-faced surgeon is
+his partner at whist, or hangs about his chair at _ecarte_," said one
+of the officers in Reginald Eversleigh's regiment. "It's my opinion
+that black-eyed Frenchman is Mephistopheles in person. I never saw a
+countenance that so fully realized my idea of the devil."
+
+People laughed at the dragoon's notion: but there were few of Mr.
+Eversleigh's guests who liked his new acquaintance, and there were some
+who kept altogether aloof from the young cornet's rooms, after two or
+three evenings spent in the society of Mr. Carrington.
+
+"The fellow is too clever," said one of Eversleigh's brother-officers;
+"these very clever men are almost invariably scoundrels. I respect a
+man who is great in one thing--a great surgeon, a great lawyer, a great
+soldier--but your fellow who knows everything better than anybody else
+is always a villain."
+
+Victor Carrington was the only person to whom Reginald Eversleigh told
+the real story of his breach with his uncle. He trusted Victor: not
+because he cared to confide in him--for the story was too humiliating
+to be told without pain--but because he wanted counsel from a stronger
+mind than his own.
+
+"It's rather a hard thing to drop from the chance of forty thousand a
+year to a pension of a couple of hundred, isn't it, Carrington?" said
+Reginald, as the two young men dined together in the cornet's quarters,
+a fortnight after the scene in Arlington Street. "It's rather hard,
+isn't it, Carrington?"
+
+"Yes, it _would be_ rather hard, if such a contingency were possible,"
+replied the surgeon, coolly; "but we don't mean to drop from forty
+thousand to two hundred. The generous old uncle may choose to draw his
+purse-strings, and cast us off to 'beggarly divorcement,' as Desdemona
+remarks; but we don't mean to let him have his own way. We must take
+things quietly, and manage matters with a little tact. You want my
+advice, I suppose, my dear Reginald?"
+
+"I do."
+
+The surgeon almost always addressed his friends by their Christian
+names, more especially when those friends were of higher standing than
+himself. There was a depth of pride, which few understood, lurking
+beneath his quiet and unobtrusive manner; and he had a way of his own
+by which he let people know that he considered himself in every respect
+their equal, and in some respects their superior.
+
+"You want my advice. Very well, then, my advice is that you play the
+penitent prodigal. It is not a difficult part to perform, if you take
+care what you're about. Sir Oswald has advised you to exchange into the
+line. Instead of doing that, you will sell out altogether. It will look
+like a stroke of prudence, and will leave you free to play your cards
+cleverly, and keep your eye upon this dear uncle."
+
+"Sell out!" exclaimed Reginald. "Leave the army! I have sworn never to
+do that."
+
+"But you will find yourself obliged to do it, nevertheless. Your
+regiment is too expensive for a man who has only a pitiful two hundred
+a year beyond his pay. Your mail-phaeton would cost the whole of your
+income; your tailor's bill can hardly be covered by another two
+hundred; and then, where are you to get your gloves, your hot-house
+flowers, your wines, your cigars? You can't go on upon credit for ever;
+tradesmen have such a tiresome habit of wanting money, if it's only a
+hundred or so now and then on account. The Jews are beginning to be
+suspicious of your paper. The news of your quarrel with Sir Oswald is
+pretty sure to get about somehow or other, and then where are you?
+Cards and billiards are all very well in their way; but you can't live
+by them, without turning a regular black-leg, and as a black-leg you
+would have no chance of the Raynham estates. No, my dear Reginald,
+retrenchment is the word. You must sell out, keep yourself very quiet,
+and watch your uncle."
+
+"What do you mean by watching him?" asked Mr. Eversleigh, peevishly.
+
+His friend's advice was by no means palatable to him. He sat in a moody
+attitude, with his elbows on his knees, and his head bent forward,
+staring at the fire. His wine stood untasted on the table by his side.
+
+"I mean that you must keep your eye upon him, in order to see that he
+don't play you a trick," answered the surgeon, at his own leisure.
+
+"What trick should he play me?"
+
+"Well, you see, when a man quarrels with his heir, he is apt to turn
+desperate. Sir Oswald might marry."
+
+"Marry! at fifty years of age?"
+
+"Yes. Men of fifty have been known to fall as desperately in love as
+any of your heroes of two or three and twenty. Sir Oswald would be a
+splendid match, and depend upon it, there are plenty of beautiful and
+high-born women who would be glad to call themselves Lady Eversleigh.
+Take my advice, Reginald, dear boy, and keep your eye on the baronet."
+
+"But he has turned me out of his house. He has severed every link
+between us."
+
+"Then it must be our business to establish a secret chain of
+communication with his household," answered Victor. "He has some
+confidential servant, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes; he has a valet, called Millard, whom he trusts as far as he
+trusts any dependent; but he is not a man who talks to his servants."
+
+"Perhaps not; but servants have a way of their own of getting at
+information, and depend upon it, Mr. Millard knows more of your uncle's
+business than Sir Oswald would wish him to know. We must get hold of
+this faithful Millard."
+
+"But he is a very faithful fellow--honesty itself--the pink of
+fidelity."
+
+"Humph!" muttered the young surgeon; "did you ever try the effect of a
+bribe on this pink of fidelity?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Then you know nothing about him. Remember what Sir Robert Walpole
+said, 'Every man has his price.' We must find out the price of Mr.
+Millard."
+
+"You are a wonderful fellow, Carrington."
+
+"You think so? Bah, I keep my eyes open, that's all; other men go
+through the world with their eyes half-shut. I graduated in a good
+school, and I may, perhaps, have been a tolerably apt pupil?"
+
+"What school?"
+
+"The school of poverty. That's the sort of education that sharpens a
+man's intellect. My father was a reprobate and a gamester, and I knew
+at an early age that I had nothing to hope for from him. I have had my
+own way to carve in life, and if I have as yet made small progress, I
+have fought against terrible odds."
+
+"I wonder you don't set up in a professional career," said Mr.
+Eversleigh; "you have finished your education; obtained your degree.
+What are you waiting for?"
+
+"I am waiting for my chances," answered Victor; "I don't care to begin
+the jog-trot career in which other men toil for twenty years or so,
+before they attain anything like prosperity. I have studied as few men
+of five-and-twenty have studied,--chemistry as well as surgery. I can
+afford to wait my chances. I pick up a few pounds a week by writing for
+the medical journals, and with that resource and occasional luck with
+cards, I can very easily support the simple home in which my mother and
+I live. In the meantime, I am free, and believe me, my dear Reginald,
+there is nothing so precious as freedom."
+
+"And you will not desert me now that I am down in the world, eh, old
+fellow?"
+
+"No, Reginald, I will never desert you while you have the chance of
+succeeding to forty thousand a year," answered the surgeon, with a
+laugh.
+
+His small black eyes flashed and sparkled as he laughed. Reginald
+looked at him with a sensation that was almost fear.
+
+"What a fellow you are, Carrington!" he exclaimed; "you don't pretend
+even to have a heart."
+
+"A heart is a luxury which a poor man must dispense with," answered
+Victor, with perfect _sang froid_. "I should as soon think of setting
+up a mail-phaeton and pair as of pretending to benevolent feelings or
+high-flown sentiments. I have my way to make in the world, Mr.
+Eversleigh, and must consider my own interests as well as those of my
+friends. You see, I am no hypocrite. You needn't be alarmed, dear boy.
+I'll help you, and you shall help me; and it shall go hard if you are
+not restored to your uncle's favour before the year is out. But you
+must be patient. Our work will be slow, for we shall have to work
+underground. If Sir Oswald is still in Arlington Street, I shall make
+it my business to see Mr. Millard to-morrow."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Oswald Eversleigh had not left Arlington Street, and at dusk on the
+following evening Mr. Carrington presented himself at the door of the
+baronet's mansion, and asked to see Mr. Millard, the valet.
+
+Victor Carrington had never seen his friend's kinsman; he was,
+therefore, secure against all chances of recognition. He had chosen the
+baronet's dinner-hour as the time for his call, knowing that during
+that hour the valet must be disengaged. He sent his card to Mr.
+Millard, with a line written in pencil to request an interview on
+urgent business.
+
+Millard came to the hall at once to see his visitor, and ushered Mr.
+Carrington into a small room that was used occasionally by the upper
+servants.
+
+The surgeon was skilled in every science by which a man may purchase
+the hearts and minds of his fellow-men. He could read Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh's valet as he could have read an open book He saw that the
+man was weak, irresolute, tolerably honest, but open to temptation. He
+was a middle-aged man, with sandy hair, a pale face, and light,
+greenish-gray eyes.
+
+"Weak," thought the surgeon, as he examined this man's countenance,
+"greedy, and avaricious. So, so; we can do what we like with Mr.
+Millard."
+
+Victor Carrington told the valet that he was the most intimate friend
+of Reginald Eversleigh, and that he made this visit entirely without
+that gentleman's knowledge. He dwelt much upon Mr. Eversleigh's grief--
+his despair.
+
+"But he is very proud," he added; "too proud to approach this house,
+either directly or indirectly. The shock caused by his uncle's
+unexpected abandonment of him has completely prostrated him. I am a
+member of the medical profession, Mr. Millard, and I assure you that
+during the past fortnight I have almost feared for my friend's reason.
+I therefore determined upon a desperate step--a step which Reginald
+Eversleigh would never forgive, were he to become aware of it. I
+determined upon coming to this house, and ascertaining, if possible,
+the nature of Sir Oswald's feelings towards his nephew. Is there any
+hope of a reconciliation?"
+
+"I'm afraid not, sir."
+
+"That's a bad thing," said Victor, gravely; "a very bad thing. A vast
+estate is at stake. It would be a bad thing for every one if that
+estate were to pass into strange hands--a very bad thing for old
+servants, for with strangers all old links are broken. It would be a
+still worse thing for every one if Sir Oswald should take it into his
+head to marry."
+
+The valet looked very grave.
+
+"If you had said such a thing to me a fortnight ago, I should have told
+you it was impossible," he said; "but now--."
+
+"Now, what do you say?"
+
+"Well, sir, you're a gentleman, and, of course, you can keep a secret;
+so I'll tell you candidly that nothing my master could do would
+surprise me after what I've seen within the last fortnight."
+
+This was quite enough for Victor Carrington, who did not leave
+Arlington Street until he had extorted from the valet the entire
+history of the baronet's adoption of the ballad-singer.
+
+       *       *        *       *        *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+                            AULD ROBIN GRAY.
+
+A year and some months had passed, and the midsummer sunlight shone
+upon the woods around Raynham Castle.
+
+It was a grand pile of buildings, blackened by the darkening hand of
+time. At one end Norman towers loomed, round and grim; at another
+extremity the light tracery of a Gothic era was visible in window and
+archway, turret and tower. The centre had been rebuilt in the reign of
+Henry VIII, and a long range of noble Tudor windows looked out upon the
+broad terrace, beyond which there was a garden, or _pleasaunce_,
+sloping down to the park. In the centre of this long facade there was
+an archway, opening into a stone quadrangle, where a fountain played
+perpetually in a marble basin. This was Raynham Castle, and all the
+woods and pastures as far as the eye could reach, and far beyond the
+reach of any human eye, belonged to the castle estate. This was the
+fair domain of which Reginald Eversleigh had been for years the
+acknowledged heir, and which his own folly and dishonour had forfeited.
+
+Now all was changed. There was not a peasant in Raynham village who had
+not as much right to enter the castle, and as good a chance of a
+welcome, as he who had once been acknowledged heir to that proud
+domain. It was scarcely strange if Reginald Eversleigh felt this bitter
+change very keenly.
+
+He had placed himself entirely in the hands of his friend and adviser,
+Victor Carrington. He had sold out of the cavalry regiment, and had
+taken up his abode in a modest lodging, situated in a small street at
+the West-end of London. Here he had tried to live quietly, according to
+his friend's advice; but he was too much the slave of his own follies
+and vices to endure a quiet existence.
+
+The sale of his commission made him rich for the time being, and, so
+long as his money lasted, he pursued the old course, betting, playing
+billiards, haunting all the aristocratic temples of folly and
+dissipation; but, at the worst, conducting himself with greater caution
+than he had done of old, and always allowing himself to be held
+somewhat in check by his prudent ally and counsellor.
+
+"Enjoy yourself as much as you please, my dear Reginald," said Victor
+Carrington; "but take care that your little follies don't reach the
+ears of your uncle. Remember, I count upon your being reconciled to him
+before the year is out."
+
+"That will never be," answered Mr. Eversleigh, with a tone of sullen
+despair. "I am utterly ruined, Carrington. It's no use trying to shirk
+the truth. I am a doomed wretch, a beggar for life, and the sooner I
+throw myself over one of the bridges, and make an end of my miserable
+existence, the better. According to Millard's account my uncle's
+infatuation for that singing-girl grows stronger and stronger. Not a
+week now passes without his visiting the school where the young
+adventuress is finishing her education. As sure as fate, it will end by
+his marrying her and the street ballad-singer will be my Lady
+Eversleigh."
+
+"And when she is my Lady Eversleigh, it must be our business to step
+between her and the Eversleigh estates," answered Victor, quietly. "I
+told you that your uncle's marriage would be an unlucky thing for you;
+but I never told you that it would put an end to your chances. I think,
+from what Millard tells us, there is very little doubt Sir Oswald will
+make a fool of himself by marrying this girl. If he does, we must set
+our wits to work to prevent his leaving her his fortune. She is utterly
+friendless and obscure, so he is not likely to make any settlement upon
+her. And for the rest, a man of fifty who marries a girl of nineteen is
+very apt to repent of his folly. It must be our business to make your
+uncle repent very soon after he has taken the fatal step."
+
+"I don't understand you, Carrington."
+
+"My dear Eversleigh, you very seldom do understand me," answered the
+surgeon, in that half-contemptuous tone in which he was apt to address
+his friend; "but that is not of the smallest consequence. Only do what
+I tell you, and leave the rest to me. You shall be lord of Raynham
+Castle yet, if my wits are good for anything."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+A year had elapsed, which had been passed by Sir Oswald between Raynham
+Castle and Arlington Street, and during which he had paid more visits
+than he could count to "The Beeches."
+
+On the occasion of these visits, he only saw his _protegee_ for about a
+quarter of an hour, while the stately Miss Beaumont looked on, smiling
+a dignified smile upon her pupil and the liberal patron who paid so
+handsomely for that pupil's education. She had always a good account to
+give of Sir Oswald's _protegee_--there never was so much talent united
+to so much industry, according to Miss Beaumont's report. Sometimes Sir
+Oswald begged to hear Miss Milford sing, and Honoria seated herself at
+the piano, over whose notes her white fingers seemed to have already
+acquired perfect command.
+
+The rich and clear soprano voice had attained new power since Sir
+Oswald had heard it in the moonlit market-place; the execution of the
+singer improved day by day. The Italian singing-master spoke in
+raptures of his pupil--never was there a finer organ or more talent.
+Miss Milford could not fail to create a profound impression when her
+musical education should be completed, and she should appear before the
+public.
+
+But as the year drew to its close, Sir Oswald Eversleigh talked less
+and less of that public career for which he had destined his
+_protegee_. He no longer reminded her that on her own industry depended
+her future fortune. He no longer spoke in glowing terms of that
+brilliant pathway which lay before her. His manner was entirely
+changed, and he was grave and silent whenever any allusion was made by
+Miss Beaumont or Honoria to the future use which was to be made of that
+superb voice and exceptional genius.
+
+The schoolmistress remarked upon this alteration one day, when talking
+to her pupil.
+
+"Do you know, my dear Miss Milford, I am really inclined to believe
+that Sir Oswald Eversleigh has changed his mind with regard to your
+future career, and that he does not intend you to be an opera-singer."
+
+"Surely, dear Miss Beaumont, that is impossible," answered Honoria,
+quietly; "my education is costing my kind bene--relative a great deal
+of money, which would be wasted if I were not to make music my
+profession. Besides, what else have I to look to in the future?
+Remember, Sir Oswald has always told you that I have my own fortune to
+achieve. I have no claim on any one, and it is to his generosity alone
+I owe my present position."
+
+"Well, I don't know how it may be, my dear," answered Miss Beaumont, "I
+may be mistaken; but I cannot help thinking that Sir Oswald has changed
+his mind about you. I need not tell you that my opinions are opposed to
+a professional career for any young lady brought up in my
+establishment, however highly gifted. I'm sure my blood actually
+freezes in my veins, when I think of any pupil of mine standing on a
+public stage, to be gazed at by the common herd; and I told Sir Oswald,
+when he first proposed bringing you here, that it would be necessary to
+keep your destiny a profound secret from your fellow-pupils; for I
+assure you, my love, there are mammas and papas who would come to this
+house in the dead of the night and carry off their children, without a
+moment's warning, if they were informed that a young person intended to
+appear on the stage of the Italian Opera was receiving her education
+within these walls. In short, nothing but your own discreet conduct,
+and Sir Oswald's very liberal terms, could have reconciled me to the
+risk which I have run in receiving you."
+
+The first year of Honoria Milford's residence at "The Beeches" expired,
+and another year began. Sir Oswald's visits became more and more
+frequent. When the accounts of his _protegee's_ progress were more than
+usually enthusiastic, his visits were generally followed very speedily
+by the arrival of some costly gift for Miss Beaumont's pupil--a ring--a
+bracelet--a locket--always in perfect taste, and such as a young lady
+at a boarding-school might wear, but always of the most valuable
+description.
+
+Honoria Milford must have possessed a heart of stone, if she had not
+been grateful to so noble a benefactor. She was grateful, and her
+gratitude was obvious to her generous protector. Her beautiful face was
+illuminated with an unwonted radiance when she entered the drawing-room
+where he awaited her coming: and the pleasure with which she received
+his brief visits was as palpable as if it had been expressed in words.
+
+It was midsummer, and Honoria Milford had been a year and a quarter at
+"The Beeches." She had acquired much during that period; new
+accomplishments, new graces; and her beauty had developed into fresh
+splendour in the calm repose of that comfortable abode. She was liked
+by her fellow-pupils; but she had made neither friends nor
+_confidantes_. The dark secrets of her past life shut her out from all
+intimate companionship with girls of her own age.
+
+She had, in a manner, lived a lonely life amongst all these companions,
+and her chief happiness had been derived from her studies. Thus it was,
+perhaps, that she had made double progress during her residence with
+the Misses Beaumont.
+
+One bright afternoon in June, Sir Oswald's mail-phaeton and pair drove
+past the windows of the school-room.
+
+"Visitors for Miss Milford!" exclaimed the pupils seated near the
+windows, as they recognized the elegant equipage.
+
+Honoria rose from her desk, awaiting the summons of the schoolroom-
+maid. She had not long to wait. The young woman appeared at the door in
+a few moments, and Miss Milford was requested to go to the drawing-
+room.
+
+She went, and found Sir Oswald Eversleigh awaiting her alone. It was
+the first time that she had ever known Miss Beaumont to be absent from
+the reception-room on the visit of the baronet.
+
+He rose to receive her, and took the hand which she extended towards
+him.
+
+"I am alone, you see, Honoria," he said; "I told Miss Beaumont that I
+had something of a serious nature to say to you, and she left me to
+receive you alone."
+
+"Something of a serious nature," repeated the girl, looking at her
+benefactor with surprise. "Oh, I think I can guess what you are going
+to say," she added, after a moment's hesitation; "my musical education
+is now sufficiently advanced for me to take some new step in the
+pathway which you wish me to tread."
+
+"No, Honoria, you are mistaken," answered the baronet, gravely; "so far
+from wishing to hasten your musical education, I am about to entreat
+you to abandon all thought of a professional career."
+
+"To abandon all thought of a professional career! You would ask me
+this, Sir Oswald--_you_ who have so often told me that all my hopes for
+the future depended on my cultivation of the art I love?"
+
+"You love your art very much then, Honoria?"
+
+"More than I love life itself."
+
+"And it would grieve you much, no doubt, to resign all idea of a public
+career--to abandon your dream of becoming a public singer?"
+
+There was a pause, and then the girl answered, in a dreamy tone--
+
+"I don't know. I have never thought of the public. I have never
+imagined the hour in which I should stand before a great crowd, as I
+have stood in the cruel streets, amongst all the noise and confusion,
+singing to people who cared so little to hear me. I have never thought
+of that--I love music for its own sake, and feel as much pleasure when
+I sing alone in my own room, as I could feel in the grandest opera-
+house that ever was built."
+
+"And the applause, the admiration, the worship, which your beauty, as
+well as your voice, would win--does the idea of resigning such
+intoxicating incense give you no pain, Honoria?"
+
+The girl shook her head sadly.
+
+"You forget what I was when you rescued me from the pitiless stones of
+the market-place, or you would scarcely ask me such a question. I have
+confronted the public--not the brilliant throng of the opera-house, but
+the squalid crowd which gathers before the door of a gin-shop, to
+listen to a vagrant ballad-singer. I have sung at races, where the rich
+and the high-born were congregated, and have received their admiration.
+I know what it is worth, Sir Oswald. The same benefactor who throws a
+handful of half-pence, offers an insult with his donation."
+
+Sir Oswald contemplated his _protegee_ in silent admiration, and it was
+some moments before he continued the conversation.
+
+"Will you walk with me in the garden?" he asked, presently; "that
+avenue of beeches is delightful, and--and I think I shall be better
+able to say what I wish there, than in this room. At any rate, I shall
+feel less afraid of interruption."
+
+Honoria rose to comply with her benefactor's wish, with that
+deferential manner which she always preserved in her intercourse with
+him, and they walked out upon the velvet lawn. Across the lawn lay the
+beech-avenue, and it was thither Sir Oswald directed his steps.
+
+"Honoria," he said, after a silence of some duration, "if you knew how
+much doubt--how much hesitation I experienced before I came here to-
+day--how much I still question the wisdom of my coming--I think you
+would pity me. But I am here, and I must needs speak plainly, if I am
+to speak at all. Long ago I tried to think that my interest in your
+fate was only a natural impulse of charity--only an ordinary tribute to
+gifts so far above the common. I tried to think this, and I acted with
+the cold, calculating wisdom of a man of the world, when I marked out
+for you a career by which you might win distinction for yourself, and
+placed you in the way of following that career. I meant to spend last
+year upon the Continent. I did not expect to see you once in twelve
+months; but the strange influence which possessed me in the hour of our
+first meeting grew stronger upon me day by day. In spite of myself, I
+thought of you; in spite of myself I came here again and again, to look
+upon your face, to hear your voice, for a few brief moments, and then
+to go out into the world, to find it darker and colder by contrast with
+the brightness of your beauty. Little by little, the idea of your
+becoming a public singer became odious to me," continued Sir Oswald.
+"At first I thought with pride of the success which would be yours, the
+worship which would be offered at your shrine; but my feeling changed
+completely before long, and I shuddered at the image of your triumphs,
+for those triumphs must, doubtless, separate us for ever. Why should I
+dwell upon this change of feeling? You must have already guessed the
+secret of my heart. Tell me that you do not despise me!"
+
+"Despise you, Sir Oswald!--you, the noblest and most generous of men!
+Surely, you must know that I admire and reverence you for all your
+noble qualities, as well as for your goodness to a wretched creature
+like me."
+
+"But, Honoria, I want something more than your esteem. Do you remember
+the night I first heard you singing in the market-place on the north
+road?"
+
+"Can I ever forget that miserable night?" cried the girl, in a tone of
+surprise--the question seemed so strange to her--"that bitter hour, in
+which you came to my rescue?"
+
+"Do you remember the song you were singing--the last song you ever sang
+in the streets?"
+
+Honoria Milford paused for some moments before answering It was evident
+that she could not at first recall the memory of that last song.
+
+"My brain was almost bewildered that night," she said; "I was so weary,
+so miserable; and yet, stay, I do remember the song. It was 'Auld Robin
+Gray.'"
+
+"Yes, Honoria, the story of an old man's love for a woman young enough
+to be his daughter. I was sitting by my cheerless fire-side, meditating
+very gloomily upon the events of the day, which had been a sad one for
+me, when your thrilling tones stole upon my ear, and roused me from my
+reverie. I listened to every note of that old ballad. Although those
+words had long been familiar to me, they seemed new and strange that
+night. An irresistible impulse led me to the spot where you had sunk
+down in your helplessness. From that hour to this you have been the
+ruling influence of my life. I have loved you with a devotion which few
+men have power to feel. Tell me, Honoria, have I loved in vain? The
+happiness of my life trembles in the balance. It is for you to decide
+whether my existence henceforward is to be worthless to me, or whether
+I am to be the proudest and happiest of men."
+
+"Would my love make you happy, Sir Oswald?"
+
+"Unutterably happy."
+
+"Then it is yours."
+
+"You love me--in spite of the difference between our ages?"
+
+"Yes, Sir Oswald, I honour and love you with all my heart," answered
+Honoria Milford. "Whom have I seen so worthy of a woman's affection?
+From the first hour in which some guardian angel threw me across your
+pathway, what have I seen in you but nobility of soul and generosity of
+heart? Is it strange, therefore, if my gratitude has ripened into
+love?"
+
+"Honoria," murmured Sir Oswald, bending over the drooping head, and
+pressing his lips gently on the pure brow--"Honoria, you have made me
+too happy. I can scarcely believe that this happiness is not some
+dream, which will melt away presently, and leave me alone and
+desolate--the fool of my own fancy."
+
+He led Honoria back towards the house. Even in this moment of supreme
+happiness he was obliged to remember Miss Beaumont, who would, no
+doubt, be lurking somewhere on the watch for her pupil.
+
+"Then you will give up all thought of a professional career, Honoria?"
+said the baronet, as they walked slowly back.
+
+"I will obey you in everything."
+
+"My dearest girl--and when you leave this house, you will leave it as
+Lady Eversleigh."
+
+Miss Beaumont was waiting in the drawing-room, and was evidently
+somewhat astonished by the duration of the interview between Sir Oswald
+and her pupil.
+
+"You have been admiring the grounds, I see, Sir Oswald," she said, very
+graciously. "It is not quite usual for a gentleman visitor and a pupil
+to promenade in the grounds _tete-a-tete_; but I suppose, in the case
+of a gentleman of your time of life, we must relax the severity of our
+rules in some measure."
+
+The baronet bowed stiffly. A man of fifty does not care to be reminded
+of his time of life at the very moment when he has just been accepted
+as the husband of a girl of nineteen.
+
+"It may, perhaps, be the last opportunity which I may have of admiring
+your grounds, Miss Beaumont," he said, presently, "for I think of
+removing your pupil very shortly."
+
+"Indeed!" cried the governess, reddening with suppressed indignation.
+"I trust Miss Milford has not found occasion to make any complaint; she
+has enjoyed especial privileges under this roof--a separate bed-room,
+silver forks and spoons, roast veal or lamb on Sundays, throughout the
+summer season--to say nothing of the most unremitting supervision of a
+positively maternal character, and I should really consider Miss
+Milford wanting in common gratitude if she had complained."
+
+"You are mistaken, my dear madam; Miss Milford has uttered no word of
+complaint. On the contrary, I am sure she has been perfectly happy in
+your establishment; but changes occur every day, and an important
+change will, I trust, speedily occur in my life, and in that of Miss
+Milford. When I first proposed bringing her to you, you asked me if she
+was a relation; I told you he was distantly related to me. I hope soon
+to be able to say that distant relationship has been transformed into a
+very near one. I hope soon to call Honoria Milford my wife."
+
+Miss Beaumont's astonishment on hearing this announcement was extreme;
+but as surprise was one of the emotions peculiar to the common herd,
+the governess did her best to suppress all signs of that feeling. Sir
+Oswald told her that, as Miss Milford was an orphan, and without any
+near relative, he would wish to take her straight from "The Beeches" to
+the church in which he would make her his wife, and he begged Miss
+Beaumont to give him her assistance in the arrangement of the wedding.
+
+The mistress of "The Beeches" possessed a really kind heart beneath the
+ice of her ultra-gentility, and she was pleased with the idea of
+assisting in the bringing about of a genuine love-match. Besides, the
+affair, if well managed, would reflect considerable importance upon
+herself, and she would be able by and bye to talk of "my pupil, Lady
+Eversleigh;" or, "that sweet girl, Miss Milford, who afterwards married
+the wealthy baronet, Sir Oswald Eversleigh." Sir Oswald pleaded for an
+early celebration of the marriage--and Honoria, accustomed to obey him
+in all things, did not oppose his wish in this crisis of his life. Once
+more Sir Oswald wrote a cheque for the wardrobe of his _protegee_, and
+Miss Beaumont swelled with pomposity as she thought of the grandeur
+which might be derived from the expenditure of a large sum of money at
+certain West-end emporiums where she was in the habit of making
+purchases for her pupils, and where she was already considered a person
+of some importance.
+
+It was holiday-time at "The Beeches," and almost all the pupils were
+absent. Miss Beaumont was, therefore, able to devote the ensuing
+fortnight to the delightful task of shopping. She drove into town
+almost every day with Honoria, and hours were spent in the choice of
+silks and satins, velvets and laces, and in long consultations with
+milliners and dressmakers of Parisian celebrity and boundless
+extravagance.
+
+"Sir Oswald has intrusted me with the supervision of this most
+important business, and I will drop down in a fainting-fit from sheer
+exhaustion before the counter at Howell and James's, sooner than I
+would fail in my duty to the extent of an iota," Miss Beaumont said,
+when Honoria begged her to take less trouble about the wedding
+_trousseau_.
+
+It was Sir Oswald's wish that the wedding should be strictly private.
+Whom could he invite to assist at his union with a nameless and
+friendless bride? Miss Beaumont was the only person whom he could
+trust, and even her he had deceived; for she believed that Honoria
+Milford was some fourth or fifth cousin--some poor relative of Sir
+Oswald's.
+
+Early in July the wedding took place. All preparations had been made so
+quietly as to baffle even the penetration of the watchful Millard. He
+had perceived that the baronet was more than usually occupied, and in
+higher spirits than were habitual to him; but he could not discover the
+reason.
+
+"There's something going on, sir," he said to Victor Carrington; "but
+I'm blest if I know what it is. I dare say that young woman is at the
+bottom of it. I never did see my master look so well or so happy. It
+seems as if he was growing younger every day."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh looked at his friend in blank despair when these
+tidings reached him.
+
+"I told you I was ruined, Victor," he said; "and now, perhaps, you will
+believe me. My uncle will marry that woman."
+
+It was only on the eve of his wedding-day that Sir Oswald Eversleigh
+made any communication to his valet. While dressing for dinner that
+evening, he said, quietly--
+
+"I want my portmanteaus packed for travelling between this and two
+o'clock to-morrow, Millard; and you will hold yourself in readiness to
+accompany me. I shall post from London, starting from a house near
+Fulham, at three o'clock. The chariot must leave here, with you and the
+luggage, at two."
+
+"You are going abroad, sir?"
+
+"No, I am going to North Wales for a week or two; but I do not go
+alone. I am going to be married to-morrow morning, Millard, and Lady
+Eversleigh will accompany me."
+
+Much as the probability of this marriage had been discussed in the
+Arlington Street household, the fact came upon Joseph Millard as a
+surprise. Nothing is so unwelcome to old servants as the marriage of a
+master who has long been a bachelor. Let the bride be never so fair,
+never so high-born, she will be looked on as an interloper; and if, as
+in this case, she happens to be poor and nameless, the bridegroom is
+regarded as a dupe and a fool; the bride is stigmatized as an
+adventuress.
+
+The valet was fully occupied that evening with preparations for the
+journey of the following day, and could find no time to call at Mr.
+Eversleigh's lodgings with his evil tidings.
+
+"He'll hear of it soon enough, I dare say, poor, unfortunate young
+man," thought Mr. Millard.
+
+The valet was right. In a few days the announcement of the baronet's
+marriage appeared in "The Times" newspaper; for, though he had
+celebrated that marriage with all privacy, he had no wish to keep his
+fair young wife hidden from the world.
+
+"_On Thursday, the 4th instant, at St. Mary's Church, Fulham, Sir
+Oswald Morton Vansittart Eversleigh, Bart., to Honoria daughter of the
+late Thomas Milford._"
+
+This was all; and this was the announcement which Reginald Eversleigh
+read one morning, as he dawdled over his late breakfast, after a night
+spent in dissipation and folly. He threw the paper away from him, with
+an oath, and hurried to his toilet. He dressed himself with less care
+than usual, for to-day he was in a hurry; he wanted at once to
+communicate with his friend, Victor Carrington.
+
+The young surgeon lived at the very extremity of the Maida Hill
+district, in a cottage, which was then almost in the country. It was a
+comfortable little residence; but Reginald Eversleigh looked at it with
+supreme contempt.
+
+"You can wait," he said to the hackney coachman; "I shall be here in
+about half an hour."
+
+The man drove away to refresh his horses at the nearest inn, and
+Reginald Eversleigh strode impatiently past the trim little servant-
+girl who opened the garden gate, and walked, unannounced, into the
+miniature hall.
+
+Everything in and about Victor Carrington's abode was the perfection of
+neatness. The presence of poverty was visible, it is true; but poverty
+was made to wear its fairest shape. In the snug drawing-room to which
+Reginald Eversleigh was admitted all was bright and fresh. White muslin
+curtains shaded the French window; birds sang in gilded cages, of
+inexpensive quality, but elegant design; and tall glass vases of
+freshly cut flowers adorned tables and mantel-piece.
+
+Sir Oswald's nephew looked contemptuously at this elegance of poverty.
+For him nothing but the splendour of wealth possessed any charm.
+
+The surgeon came to him while he stood musing thus.
+
+"Do you mind coming to my laboratory?" he asked, after shaking hands
+with his unexpected visitor. "I can see that you have something of
+importance to say to me, and we shall be safer from interruption
+there."
+
+"I shouldn't have come to this fag-end of Christendom if I hadn't
+wanted very much to see you, you may depend upon it, Carrington,"
+answered Reginald, sulkily. "What on earth makes you live in such an
+out-of-the-way hole?"
+
+"I am a student, and an out-of-the-way hole--as you are good enough to
+call it--suits my habits. Besides, this house is cheap, and the rent
+suits my pocket."
+
+"It looks like a doll's house," said Reginald, contemptuously.
+
+"My mother likes to surround herself with birds and flowers," answered
+the surgeon; "and I like to indulge any fancy of my mother's."
+
+Victor Carrington's countenance seemed to undergo a kind of
+transformation as he spoke of his mother. The bright glitter of his
+eyes softened; the hard lines of his iron mouth relaxed.
+
+The one tender sentiment of a dark and dangerous nature was this man's
+affection for his widowed mother.
+
+He opened the door of an apartment at the back of the house, and
+entered, followed by Mr. Eversleigh.
+
+Reginald stared in wonder at the chamber in which he found himself. The
+room had once been a kitchen, and was much larger than any other room
+in the cottage. Here there was no attempt at either comfort or
+elegance. The bare, white-washed walls had no adornment but a deal
+shelf here and there, loaded with strange-looking phials and gallipots.
+Here all the elaborate paraphernalia of a chemist's laboratory was
+visible. Here Reginald Eversleigh beheld stoves, retorts, alembics,
+distilling apparatus; all the strange machinery of that science which
+always seems dark and mysterious to the ignorant.
+
+The visitor looked about him in utter bewilderment.
+
+"Why, Victor," he exclaimed, "your room looks like the laboratory of
+some alchymist of the Middle Ages--the sort of man people used to burn
+as a wizard."
+
+"I am rather an enthusiastic student of my art," answered the surgeon.
+
+The visitor's eyes wandered round the room in amazement. Suddenly they
+alighted on some object on the table near the stove. Carrington
+perceived the glance, and, with a hasty movement, very unusual to him,
+dropped his handkerchief upon the object.
+
+The movement, rapid though it was, came too late, for Reginald
+Eversleigh had distinguished the nature of the object which the surgeon
+wished to conceal from him.
+
+It was a mask of metal, with glass eyes.
+
+"So you wear a mask when you are at work, eh, Carrington?" said Mr.
+Eversleigh. "That looks as if you dabble in poisons."
+
+"Half the agents employed in chemistry are poisonous," answered Victor,
+coolly.
+
+"I hope there is no danger in the atmosphere of this room just now?"
+
+"None whatever. Come, Reginald, I am sure you have bad news to tell me,
+or you would never have taken the trouble to come here."
+
+"I have, and the worst news. My uncle has married this street ballad-
+singer."
+
+"Good; then we must try to turn this marriage to account."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"By making it the means of bringing about a reconciliation. You will
+write a letter of congratulation to Sir Oswald--a generous letter--in
+which you will speak of your penitence, your affection, the anguish you
+have endured during this bitter period of estrangement. You can venture
+to speak freely of these things now, you will say, for now that your
+honoured uncle has found new ties you can no longer be suspected of any
+mercenary motive. You can now approach him boldly, you will say, for
+you have henceforward nothing to hope from him except his forgiveness.
+Then you will wind up with an earnest prayer for his happiness. And if
+I am not very much out in my reckoning of human nature, that letter
+will bring about a reconciliation. Do you understand my tactics?"
+
+"I do. You are a wonderful fellow, Carrington."
+
+"Don't say that until the day when you are restored to your old
+position as your uncle's heir. Then you may pay me any compliment you
+please."
+
+"If ever that day arrives, you shall not find me ungrateful."
+
+"I hope not; and now go back to town and write your letter. I want to
+see you invited to Raynham Castle to pay your respects to the bride."
+
+"But why so?"
+
+"I want to know what the bride is like. Our future plans will depend
+much upon her."
+
+Before leaving Lorrimore Cottage, Reginald Eversleigh was introduced to
+his friend's mother, whom he had never before seen. She was very like
+her son. She had the same pale, sallow face, the same glittering black
+eyes. She was slim and tall, with a somewhat stately manner, and with
+little of the vivacity usual to her countrywomen.
+
+She looked at Mr. Eversleigh with a searching glance--a glance which
+was often repeated, as he stood for a few minutes talking to her.
+Nothing which interested her son was without interest for her; and she
+knew that this young man was his chief friend and companion.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh went back to town in much better spirits than when
+he had left the West-end that morning. He lost no time in writing the
+letter suggested by his friend, and, as he was gifted with considerable
+powers of persuasion, the letter was a good one.
+
+"I believe Carrington is right," he thought, as he sealed it: "and this
+letter will bring about a reconciliation. It will reach my uncle at a
+time when he will be intoxicated with his new position as the husband
+of a young and lovely bride; and he will be inclined to think kindly of
+me, and of all the world. Yes--the letter is decidedly a fine stroke of
+diplomacy."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh awaited a reply to his epistle with feverish
+impatience; but an impatience mingled with hope.
+
+His hopes did not deceive him. The reply came by return of post, and
+was even more favourable than his most sanguine expectations had led
+him to anticipate.
+
+"_Dear Reginald_," wrote the baronet, "_your generous and disinterested
+letter has touched me to the heart. Let the past be forgotten and
+forgiven. I do not doubt that you have suffered, as all men must
+suffer, from the evil deeds of their youth_.
+
+"_You were no doubt surprised to receive the tidings of my marriage. I
+have consulted my heart alone in the choice which I have made, and I
+venture to hope that choice will secure the happiness of my future
+existence. I am spending the first weeks of my married life amidst the
+lovely solitudes of North Wales. On the 24th of this month, Lady
+Eversleigh and I go to Raynham, where we shall be glad to see you
+immediately on our arrival. Come to us, my dear boy; come to me, as if
+this unhappy estrangement had never arisen, and we will discuss your
+future together.--Your affectionate uncle_,  OSWALD EVERSLEIGH."
+"_Royal Hotel, Bannerdoon, N. W._"
+
+ Nothing could be more satisfactory than this epistle. Reginald
+Eversleigh and Victor Carrington dined together that evening, and the
+baronet's letter was freely discussed between them.
+
+"The ground lies all clear before you now," said the surgeon: "you will
+go to Raynham, make yourself as agreeable as possible to the bride, win
+your uncle's heart by an appearance of extreme remorse for the past,
+and most complete disinterestedness for the future, and leave all the
+rest to me."
+
+"But how the deuce can you help me at Raynham?"
+
+"Time alone can show. I have only one hint to give you at present.
+Don't be surprised if you meet me unexpectedly amongst the Yorkshire
+hills and wolds, and take care to follow suit with whatever cards you
+see me playing. Whatever I do will be done in your interest, depend
+upon it. Mind, by the bye, if you do see me in the north, that I know
+nothing of your visit to Raynham. I shall be as much surprised to see
+you as you will be to see me."
+
+"So be it; I will fall into your plans. As your first move has been so
+wonderfully successful, I shall be inclined to trust you implicitly in
+the future. I suppose you will want to be paid rather stiffly by and
+bye, if you do succeed in getting me any portion of Sir Oswald's
+fortune?"
+
+"Well, I shall ask for some reward, no doubt. I am a poor man, you
+know, and do not pretend to be disinterested or generous. However, we
+will discuss that question when we meet at Raynham."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the 28th of July, Reginald Eversleigh presented himself at Raynham
+Castle. He had thought never more to set foot upon that broad terrace,
+never more to pass beneath the shadow of that grand old archway; and a
+sense of triumph thrilled through his veins as he stood once again on
+the familiar threshold.
+
+And yet his position in life was terribly changed since he had last
+stood there. He was no longer the acknowledged heir to whom all
+dependents paid deferential homage. He fancied that the old servants
+looked at him coldly, and that their greeting was the chilling welcome
+which is accorded to a poor relation. He had never done much to win
+affection or gratitude in the days of his prosperity. It may be that he
+remembered this now, and regretted it, not from any kindly impulse
+towards these people, but from a selfish annoyance at the chilling
+reception accorded him.
+
+"If ever I win back what I have lost, these pampered parasites shall
+suffer for their insolence," thought the young man, as he walked across
+the broad Gothic hall of the castle, escorted by the grave old butler.
+
+But he had not much leisure to think about his uncle's servants.
+Another and far more important person occupied his mind, and that
+person was his uncle's bride.
+
+"Lady Eversleigh is at home?" he asked, while crossing the hall.
+
+"Yes, sir; her ladyship is in the long drawing-room."
+
+The butler opened a ponderous oaken door, and ushered Reginald into one
+of the finest apartments in the castle.
+
+In the centre of this room, by the side of a grand piano, from which
+she had just risen, stood the new mistress of the castle. She was
+simply dressed in pale gray silk, relieved only by a scarlet ribbon
+twisted in the masses of her raven hair. Her beauty had the same effect
+upon Reginald Eversleigh which it exercised on almost all who looked at
+her for the first time. He was dazzled, bewildered, by the singular
+loveliness.
+
+"And this divinity--this goddess of grace and beauty, is my uncle's
+wife," he thought; "this is the street ballad-singer whom he picked up
+out of the gutter."
+
+For some moments the elegant and accomplished Reginald Eversleigh stood
+abashed before the calm presence of the nameless girl his uncle had
+married.
+
+Sir Oswald welcomed his nephew with perfect cordiality. He was happy,
+and in the hour of his happiness he could cherish no unkind feeling
+towards the adopted son who had once been so dear to him. But while
+ready to open his arms to the repentant prodigal, his intentions with
+regard to the disposition of his wealth had undergone no change. He had
+arrived, calmly and deliberately, at a certain resolve, and he intended
+to adhere to that decision.
+
+The baronet told his nephew this frankly in the first confidential
+conversation which they had after the young man's arrival at Raynham.
+
+"You may think me harsh and severe," he said, gravely; "but the
+resolution which I announced to you in Arlington Street cost me much
+thought and care. I believe that I have acted for the best. I think
+that my over-indulgence was the bane of your youth, Reginald, and that
+you would have been a better man had you been more roughly reared.
+Since you have left the army, I have heard no more of your follies; and
+I trust that you have at last struck out a better path for yourself,
+and separated yourself from all dangerous associates. But you must
+choose a new profession. You must not live an idle life on the small
+income which you receive from me. I only intended that annuity as a
+safeguard against poverty, not as a sufficient means of life. You must
+select a new career, Reginald; and whatever it may be, I will give you
+some help to smooth your pathway. Your first cousin, Douglas Dale, is
+studying for the law--would not that profession suit you?"
+
+"I am in your hands, sir, and am ready to obey you in everything."
+
+"Well, think over what I have said; and if you choose to enter yourself
+as a student in the Temple, I will assist you with all necessary
+funds."
+
+"My dear uncle, you are too good."
+
+"I wish to serve you as far as I can with justice to others. And now,
+Reginald, we will speak no more of the past. What do you think of my
+wife?"
+
+"She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld."
+
+"And she is as good and true as she is beautiful--a pearl of price,
+Reginald. I thank Providence for giving me so great a treasure."
+
+"And this treasure will be possessor of Raynham Castle, I suppose,"
+thought the young man, savagely.
+
+Sir Oswald spoke presently, almost as if in answer to his nephew's
+thoughts.
+
+"As I have been thoroughly candid with you, Reginald," he said, "I may
+as well tell you even more. I am at an age which some call the prime of
+life, and I feel all my old vigour. But death sometimes comes suddenly
+to men whose life seems as full of promise as mine seems to me now. I
+wish that when I die there may be no possible disappointment as to the
+disposal of my fortune. Other men make a mystery of the contents of
+their wills. I wish the terms of my will to be known by all interested
+in it."
+
+"I have no desire to be enlightened, sir," murmured Reginald, who felt
+that his uncle's words boded no good to himself.
+
+"My will has been made since my marriage," continued Sir Oswald,
+without noticing his nephew's interruption; "any previous will would,
+indeed, have been invalidated by that event Two-thirds--more than two-
+thirds--of my property has been left to my wife, who will be a very
+rich woman when I am dead and gone. Should she have a son, the landed
+estates will, of course, go to him; but in any case, Lady Eversleigh
+will be mistress of a large fortune. I leave five thousand a year to
+each of my nephews. As for you, Reginald, you will, perhaps, consider
+yourself bitterly wronged; but you must, in justice, remember that you
+have been your own enemy. The annuity of two hundred a year which you
+now possess will, after my death, become an income of five hundred a
+year, derived from a small estate called Morton Grange, in
+Lincolnshire. You have nothing more than a modest competency to hope
+for, therefore; and it rests with yourself to win wealth and
+distinction by the exercise of your own talents."
+
+The pallor of Reginald Eversleigh's face alone revealed the passion
+which consumed him as he received these most unwelcome statements from
+his uncle's lips. Fortunately for the young man, Sir Oswald did not
+observe his countenance, for at this moment Lady Eversleigh appeared on
+the terrace-walk outside the open window of her husband's study, and he
+hurried to her.
+
+"What are to be our plans for this afternoon, darling?" he asked. "I
+have transacted all my business, and am quite at your service for the
+rest of the day."
+
+"Very well, then, you cannot please me better than by showing me some
+more of the beauties of your native county."
+
+"You make that proposition because you know it pleases me, artful puss;
+but I obey. Shall we ride or drive? Perhaps, as the afternoon is hot,
+we had better take the barouche," continued Sir Oswald, while Honoria
+hesitated. "Come to luncheon. I will give all necessary orders."
+
+They went to the dining-room, whither Reginald accompanied them.
+Already he had contrived to banish the traces of emotion from his
+countenance: but his uncle's words were still ringing in his ears.
+
+Five hundred a year!--he was to receive a pitiful five hundred a year;
+whilst his cousins--struggling men of the world, unaccustomed to luxury
+and splendour--were each to have an income of five thousand. And this
+woman--this base, unknown, friendless creature, who had nothing but her
+diabolical beauty to recommend her--was to have a splendid fortune!
+
+These were the thoughts which tormented Reginald Eversleigh as he took
+his place at the luncheon-table. He had been now a fortnight at Raynham
+Castle, and had become, to all outward appearance, perfectly at his
+ease with the fair young mistress of the mansion. There are some women
+who seem fitted to occupy any station, however lofty. They need no
+teaching; they are in no way bewildered by the novelty of wealth or
+splendour; they make no errors. They possess an instinctive tact, which
+all the teaching possible cannot always impart to others. They glide
+naturally into their position; and, looking on them in their calm
+dignity, their unstudied grace, it is difficult to believe they have
+not been born in the purple.
+
+Such a woman was Honoria, Lady Eversleigh. The novelty of her position
+gave her no embarrassment; the splendour around her charmed and
+delighted her sense of the beautiful, but it caused her no
+bewilderment; it did not dazzle her unaccustomed eyes. She received her
+husband's nephew with the friendly, yet dignified, bearing which it was
+fitting Sir Oswald's wife should display towards his kinsman; and the
+scrutinizing eyes of the young man sought in vain to detect some secret
+hidden beneath that placid and patrician exterior.
+
+"The woman is a mystery," he thought; "one would think she were some
+princess in disguise. Does she really love my uncle, I wonder? She acts
+her part well, if it is a false one. But, then, who would not act a
+part for such a prize as she is likely to win? I wish Victor were here.
+He, perhaps, might be able to penetrate the secret of her existence.
+She is a hypocrite, no doubt; and an accomplished one. I would give a
+great deal for the power to strip the veil from her beautiful face, and
+show my lady in her true colours!"
+
+Such bitter thoughts as these continually harassed the ambitious and
+disappointed man. And yet he was able to bear himself with studied
+courtesy towards Lady Eversleigh. The best people in the county had
+come to Raynham to pay their homage to Sir Oswald's bride. Nothing
+could exceed her husband's pride as he beheld her courted and admired.
+No shadow of jealousy obscured his pleasure when he saw younger men
+flock round her to worship and admire. He felt secure of her love, for
+she had again and again assured him that her heart had been entirely
+his even before he declared himself to her. He felt an implicit faith
+in her purity and innocence.
+
+Such a man as Oswald Eversleigh is not easily moved to jealousy; but
+with such a man, one breath of suspicion, one word of slander, against
+the creature he loves, is horrible as the agony of death.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh had shared in all the pleasures and amusements of
+Sir Oswald and his wife. They had gone nowhere without him since his
+arrival at the castle; for at present he was the only visitor staying
+in the house, and the baronet was too courteous to leave him alone.
+
+"After the twelfth we shall have plenty of bachelor visitors," said Sir
+Oswald; "and you will find the old place more to your taste, I dare
+say, Reginald. In the meantime, you must content yourself with our
+society."
+
+"I am more than contented, my dear uncle, and do not sigh for the
+arrival of your bachelor friends; though I dare say I shall on very
+well with them when they do come."
+
+"I expect a bevy of pretty girls as well. Do you remember Lydia Graham,
+the sister of Gordon Graham, of the Fusiliers?"
+
+"Yes, I remember her perfectly."
+
+"I think there used to be something like a flirtation between you and
+her."
+
+Sir Oswald and Lady Eversleigh seated themselves in the barouche;
+Reginald rode by their side, on a thorough-bred hack out of the Raynham
+stables.
+
+The scenery within twenty miles of the castle was varied in character
+and rich in beauty. In the purple distance, to the west of the castle,
+there was a range of heather-clad hills; and between those hills and
+the village of Raynham there flowed a noble river, crossed at intervals
+by quaint old bridges, and bordered by little villages, nestling amid
+green pastures.
+
+The calm beauty of a rustic landscape, and the grandeur of wilder
+scenery, were alike within reach of the explorer from the castle.
+
+On this bright August afternoon, Sir Oswald had chosen for the special
+object of their drive the summit of a wooded hill, whence a superb
+range of country was to be seen. This hill was called Thorpe Peak, and
+was about seven miles from the castle.
+
+The barouche stopped at the foot of the hill; the baronet and his wife
+alighted, and walked up a woody pathway leading to the summit,
+accompanied by Reginald, who left his horse with the servants.
+
+They ascended the hill slowly, Lady Eversleigh leaning upon her
+husband's arm. The pathway wound upward, through plantations of fir,
+and it was only on the summit that the open country burst on the view
+of the pedestrian. On the summit they found a gentleman seated on the
+trunk of a fallen tree, sketching. A light portable colour-box lay open
+by his side, and a small portfolio rested on his knees.
+
+He seemed completely absorbed in his occupation, for he did not raise
+his eyes from his work as Sir Oswald and his companions approached. He
+wore a loose travelling dress, which, in its picturesque carelessness
+of style, was not without elegance.
+
+A horse was grazing under a group of firs near at hand, fastened to one
+of the trees by the bridle.
+
+This traveller was Victor Carrington.
+
+"Carrington!" exclaimed Mr. Eversleigh; "whoever would have thought of
+finding you up here? Sketching too!"
+
+The surgeon lifted his head suddenly, looked at his friend, and burst
+out laughing, as he rose to shake hands. He looked handsomer in his
+artistic costume than ever Reginald Eversleigh had seen him look
+before. The loose velvet coat, the wide linen collar and neckerchief of
+dark-blue silk, set off the slim figure and pale foreign face.
+
+"You are surprised to see me; but I have still more right to be
+surprised at seeing you. What brings you here?"
+
+"I am staying with my uncle, Sir Oswald Eversleigh, at Raynham Castle."
+
+"Ah, to be sure; that superb place within four miles of the village of
+Abbey wood, where I have taken up my quarters."
+
+The baronet and his wife had been standing at a little distance from
+the two young men; but Sir Oswald advanced, with Honoria still upon his
+arm.
+
+"Introduce me to your friend, Reginald," he said, in his most cordial
+manner.
+
+Reginald obeyed, and Victor was presented to Sir Oswald and his wife.
+His easy and graceful bearing was calculated to make an agreeable
+impression at the outset, and Sir Oswald was evidently pleased with the
+appearance and manners of his nephew's friend.
+
+"You are an artist, I see, Mr. Carrington," he said, after glancing at
+the young man's sketch, which, even in its unfinished state, was no
+contemptible performance.
+
+"An amateur only, Sir Oswald," answered Victor. "I am by profession a
+surgeon; but as yet I have not practised. I find independence so
+agreeable that I can scarcely bring myself to resign it. I have been
+wandering about this delightful county for the last week or two, with
+my sketch-book under my arm--halting for a day or two in any
+picturesque spot I came upon, and hiring a horse whenever I could get a
+decent animal. It is a very simple mode of enjoying a holiday; but it
+suits me."
+
+"Your taste does you credit. But if you are in my neighbourhood, you
+must take your horses from the Raynham stables. Where are your present
+quarters?"
+
+"At the little inn by Abbeywood Bridge."
+
+"Four miles from the castle. We are near neighbours, Mr. Carrington,
+according to country habits. You must ride back with us, and dine at
+Raynham."
+
+"You are very kind, Sir Oswald; but my dress will preclude--"
+
+"No consequence whatever. We are quite alone just now; and I am sure
+Lady Eversleigh will excuse a traveller's toilet. If you are not bent
+upon finishing this very charming sketch, I shall insist on your
+returning with us; and you join me in the request, eh, Honoria?"
+
+Lady Eversleigh smiled an assent, and the surgeon murmured his thanks.
+As yet he had looked little at the baronet's beautiful wife. He had
+come to Yorkshire with the intention of studying this woman as a man
+studies an abstruse and difficult science; but he was too great a
+tactician to betray any unwonted interest in her. The policy of his
+life was patience, and in this as in everything else, he waited his
+opportunity.
+
+"She is very beautiful," he thought, "and she has made a good market
+out of her beauty; but it is only the beginning of the story yet--the
+middle and the end have still to come."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+After this meeting on Thorpe Peak, the surgeon became a constant
+visitor at Raynham. Sir Oswald was delighted with the young man's
+talents and accomplishments; and Victor contrived to win credit by the
+apparently accidental revelation of his early struggles, his mother's
+poverty, his patient studies, and indomitable perseverance. He told of
+these things without seeming to tell them; a word now, a chance
+allusion then, revealed the story of his friendless youth. Sir Oswald
+fancied that such a companion was eminently adapted to urge his nephew
+onward in the difficult road that leads to fortune and distinction.
+
+"If Reginald had only half your industry, half your perseverance, I
+should not fear for his future career, Mr. Carrington," said the
+baronet, in the course of a confidential conversation with his visitor.
+
+"That will come in good time, Sir Oswald," answered Victor. "Reginald
+is a noble fellow, and has a far nobler nature than I can pretend to
+possess. The very qualities which you are good enough to praise in me
+are qualities which you cannot expect to find in him. I was a pupil in
+the stern school of poverty from my earliest infancy, while Reginald
+was reared in the lap of luxury. Pardon me, Sir Oswald, if I speak
+plainly; but I must remind you that there are few young men who would
+have passed honourably through the ordeal of such a change of fortune
+as that which has fallen on your nephew."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that with most men such a reverse would have been utter ruin of
+soul and body. An ordinary man, finding all the hopes of his future,
+all the expectations, which had been a part of his very life, taken
+suddenly from him, would have abandoned himself to a career of vice; he
+would have become a blackleg, a swindler, a drunkard, a beggar at the
+doors of the kinsman who had cast him off. But it was not so with
+Reginald Eversleigh. From the moment in which he found himself cast
+adrift by the benefactor who had been more than a father to him, he
+confronted evil fortune calmly and bravely. He cut the link between
+himself and extravagant companions. He disappeared from the circles in
+which he had been admired and courted; and the only grief which preyed
+upon his generous heart sprang from the knowledge that he had forfeited
+his uncle's affection."
+
+Sir Oswald sighed. For the first time he began to think that it was
+just possible he had treated his nephew with injustice.
+
+"You are right, Mr. Carrington," he said, after a pause; "it was a hard
+trial for any man; and I am proud to think that Reginald passed
+unscathed through so severe an ordeal. But the resolution at which I
+arrived a year and a half ago is one that I cannot alter now. I have
+formed new ties; I have new hopes for the future. My nephew must pay
+the penalty of his past errors, and must look to his own exertions for
+wealth and honour. If I die without a direct heir, he will succeed to
+the baronetcy, and I hope he will try his uttermost to win a fortune by
+which he may maintain his title."
+
+There was very little promise in this; but Victor Carrington was,
+nevertheless, tolerably well satisfied with the result of the
+conversation. He had sown the seeds of doubt and uncertainty in the
+baronet's breast. Time only could bring the harvest. The surgeon was
+accustomed to work underground, and knew that all such work must be
+slow and laborious.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+                    "O BEWARE, MY LORD, OF JEALOUSY."
+
+The castle was gay with the presence of many guests. The baronet was
+proud to gather old friends and acquaintances round him, in order that
+he might show them the fair young wife he had chosen to be the solace
+of his declining years. A man of fifty who marries a girl of nineteen
+is always subject to the ridicule of scandalous lips, the ironical
+jests of pitiless tongues. Sir Oswald Eversleigh knew this, and he
+wanted to show the world that he was happy--supremely happy--in the
+choice that he had made.
+
+Amongst those who came to Raynham Castle this autumn was one trusted
+friend of Sir Oswald, a gruff old soldier, Captain Copplestone, a man
+who had never won advancement in the service; but who was known to have
+nobly earned the promotion which had never been awarded him.
+
+This man was on brotherly terms with Sir Oswald, and was about the only
+creature who had ever dared to utter disagreeable truths to the
+baronet. He was very poor; but had never accepted the smallest favour
+from the hands of his wealthy friend. Sir Oswald was devoutly attached
+to him, and would have gladly opened his purse to him as to a brother;
+but he dared not offend the stern old soldier's pride by even hinting
+at such a desire.
+
+Captain Copplestone came to Raynham prepared to remonstrate with his
+friend on the folly of his marriage. He arrived when the reception-room
+was crowded with other visitors, and be stood by, looking on in grim
+disdain, while the newly arrived guests were pressing their
+felicitations on Sir Oswald.
+
+By and bye the guests departed to their rooms, and the friends were
+left alone.
+
+"Well, old friend," cried the baronet, stretching out both his hands to
+grasp those of the captain in a warmer salutation than that of his
+first welcome, "am I to have no word of congratulation from you?"
+
+"What word do you want?" growled Copplestone. "If I tell you the truth,
+you won't like it; and if I were to try to tell you a lie, egad! I
+think the syllables would choke me. It has been hard enough for me to
+keep patience while all those idiots have been babbling their unmeaning
+compliments; and now that they've gone away to laugh at you behind your
+back, you'd better let me follow their example, and not risk the chance
+of a quarrel with an old friend by speaking my mind."
+
+"You think me a fool, then, Copplestone?"
+
+"Why, what else can I think of you? If a man of fifty must needs go and
+marry a girl of nineteen, he can't expect to be thought a Solon."
+
+"Ah, Copplestone, when you have seen my wife, you will think
+differently."
+
+"Not a bit of it. The prettier she is, the more fool I shall think you;
+for there'll be so much the more certainty that she'll make your life
+miserable."
+
+"Here she comes!" said the baronet; "look at her before you judge her
+too severely, old friend, and let her face answer for her truth."
+
+The room in which the two men were standing opened into another and
+larger apartment, and through the open folding-doors Captain
+Copplestone saw Lady Eversleigh approaching. She was dressed in white--
+that pure, transparent muslin in which her husband loved best to see
+her--and one large natural rose was fastened amidst her dark hair. As
+she drew nearer to the baronet and his friend, the bluff old soldier's
+face softened.
+
+The introduction was made by Sir Oswald, and Honoria held out her hand
+with her brightest and most bewitching smile.
+
+"My husband has spoken of you very often, Captain Copplestone," she
+said; "and I feel as if we were old friends rather than strangers. I
+have pleasure in bidding welcome to all Sir Oswald's guests; but not
+such pleasure as I feel in welcoming you."
+
+The soldier extended his bronzed hand, and grasped the soft white
+fingers in a pressure that was something like that of an iron vice. He
+looked at Lady Eversleigh with a serio-comic expression of
+bewilderment, and looked from her to the baronet.
+
+"Well?" asked Sir Oswald, presently, when Honoria had left them.
+
+"Well, Oswald, if the truth must be told, I think you had some excuse
+for your folly. She is a beautiful creature; and if there is any faith
+to be put in the human countenance, she is as good as she is
+beautiful."
+
+The baronet grasped his friend's hand with a pressure that was more
+eloquent than words. He believed implicitly in the captain's powers of
+penetration, and this favourable judgment of the wife he adored filled
+him with gratitude. It was not that the faintest shadow of doubt
+obscured his own mind. He trusted her fully and unreservedly; but he
+wanted others to trust her also.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+While Sir Oswald and his friend were enjoying a brief interval of
+confidential intercourse, Reginald Eversleigh and Victor Carrington
+lounged in a pleasant little sitting-room, smoking their cigars, and
+leaning on the stone sill of the wide Gothic window.
+
+They were talking, and talking very earnestly.
+
+"You are a very clever fellow, I know, my dear Carrington," said
+Reginald; "but it is slow work, very slow work, and I don't see my way
+through it."
+
+"Because you are as impatient as a child who has set his heart on a new
+toy," answered the surgeon, disdainfully. "You complain that the game
+is slow, and yet you see one move after another made upon the board--
+and made successfully. A month ago you did not believe in the
+possibility of a reconciliation between your uncle and yourself; and
+yet that reconciliation has come about. A fortnight ago you would have
+laughed at the idea of my being here at Raynham, an invited guest; and
+yet here I am. Do you think there has been no patient thought necessary
+to work out this much of our scheme? Do you suppose that I was on
+Thorpe Hill by accident that afternoon?"
+
+"And you hope that something may come of your visit here?"
+
+"I hope that much may come of it. I have already dared to drop hints at
+injustice done to you. That idea of injustice will rankle in your
+uncle's mind. I have my plans, Reginald, and you have only to be
+patient, and to trust in me."
+
+"But why should you refuse to tell me the nature of your plans?"
+
+"Because my plans are as yet but half formed. I may soon be able to
+speak more plainly. Do you see those two figures yonder, walking in the
+_pleasaunce_?"
+
+"Yes, I see them--my uncle and his wife," answered Reginald, with a
+gesture of impatience.
+
+"They are very happy--are they not? It is quite an Arcadian picture. I
+beg you to contemplate it earnestly."
+
+"What a fool you are, Carrington!" cried the young man, flinging away
+his cigar. "If my uncle chooses to make an idiot of himself, that is no
+reason why I should watch the evidence of his folly!"
+
+"But there is another reason," answered Victor, with a sinister look in
+his glittering black eyes. "Look at the picture while you may,
+Reginald, for you will not have the chance of seeing it very often."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that the day is near at hand when Lady Eversleigh will fall
+from her high estate. I mean that an elevation as sudden as hers is
+often the forerunner of a sudden disgrace. The hour will come when Sir
+Oswald will mourn his fatal marriage as the one irrevocable mistake of
+his life; and when, in his despair, he will restore you, the disgraced
+nephew, to your place, as his acknowledged heir; because you will at
+least seem to him more worthy than his disgraced wife."
+
+"And who is to bring this about?" asked Reginald, gazing at his friend
+in complete bewilderment.
+
+"I am," answered the surgeon; "but before I do so I must have some
+understanding as to the price of my services. If the cat who pulled the
+chestnuts out of the fire for the benefit of the monkey had made an
+agreement beforehand as to how much of the plunder he was to receive
+for his pains, the name of the animal would not have become a bye-word
+with posterity. When I have worked to win your fortune, I must have my
+reward, my dear Reginald."
+
+"Do you suppose I should be ungrateful?"
+
+"Of course not. But, you see, I don't ask for your gratitude--I want a
+good round sum down on the nail--hard cash. Your uncle's fortune, if
+you get two-thirds of it, will be worth thirty thousand a year; and for
+such a fortune you can very well afford to pay me twenty thousand in
+ready money within two years of your accession to the inheritance."
+
+"Twenty thousand!"
+
+"Yes; if you think the sum too much, we will say no more about it. The
+business is a very difficult one, and I scarcely care to engage in it."
+
+"My dear Victor, you bewilder me. I cannot bring myself to believe that
+you can bring about my restoration to my old place in my uncle's will;
+but if you do, the twenty thousand shall be yours."
+
+"Good!" answered the surgeon, in his coolest and most business-like
+manner; "I must have it in black and white. You will give me two
+promissory notes; one for ten thousand, to fall due a year hence--the
+other for the same sum, to fall due in two years."
+
+"But if I do not get the fortune--and I am not likely to get it within
+that time; my uncle's life is a good one, and--"
+
+"Never mind your uncle's life. I will give you an undertaking to cancel
+those notes of hand if you have not succeeded to the Raynham estates.
+And now here are stamps. You may as well fill in the body of the notes,
+and sign them at once, and so close the transaction."
+
+"You are prepared with the stamps?"
+
+"Yes; I am a man of business, although a man of science."
+
+"Victor," said Reginald Eversleigh; "you sometimes make me shudder,
+There is something almost diabolical about you."
+
+"But if I drag yonder fair lady down from her high, estate, you would
+scarcely care if I were the foul fiend in person," said Carrington,
+looking at his friend with a sardonic smile. "Oh, I think I know you,
+Reginald Eversleigh, better than you know me."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Amongst the guests who had arrived at the castle within the last few
+days was Lydia Graham, the young lady of whom the baronet had spoken to
+his nephew. She was a fascinating girl, with a bold, handsome face,
+brilliant gray eyes, an aquiline nose, and a profusion of dark, waving
+hair. She was a woman who knew how to make the most of every charm with
+which nature had endowed her. She dressed superbly; but with an
+extravagance far beyond the limits of her means. She was, for this
+reason, deeply in debt, and her only chance of extrication from her
+difficulties lay in a brilliant marriage.
+
+For nearly nine years she had been trying to make this brilliant
+marriage. She had "come out," as the phrase goes, at seventeen, and she
+was now nine-and-twenty.
+
+During that period she had been wooed and flattered by troops of
+admirers. She had revelled in flirtations; she had triumphed in the
+power of her beauty; but she had known more than one disappointment of
+her fairest hopes, and she had not won the prize in the great lottery
+of fashionable life--a wealthy and patrician husband.
+
+Her nine-and-twentieth birthday had passed; and contemplating herself
+earnestly in her glass, she was fain to confess that something of the
+brilliancy of her beauty had faded.
+
+"I am getting wan and sallow," she said to herself; "what is to become
+of me if I do not marry?"
+
+The prospect was indeed a sorry one.
+
+Lydia Graham possessed an income of two hundred a year, inherited from
+her mother: but such an income was the merest pittance for a young lady
+with Miss Graham's tastes. Her brother was a captain of an expensive
+regiment, selfish and extravagant, and by no means inclined to open his
+purse for his sister's benefit.
+
+She had no home; but lived sometimes with one wealthy relation,
+sometimes with another--always admired, always elegantly dressed; but
+not always happy.
+
+Amidst all Miss Graham's matrimonial disappointments, she had endured
+none more bitter than that which she had felt when she read the
+announcement of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's marriage in the "Times"
+newspaper.
+
+She had met the rich baronet very frequently in society. She had
+visited at Raynham with her brother. Sir Oswald had, to all appearance,
+admired her beauty and accomplishments; and she had imagined that time
+and opportunity alone were wanting to transform that admiration into a
+warmer feeling. In plain words, Lydia Graham had hoped with a little
+good management, to become Lady Eversleigh of Raynham; and no words can
+fully describe her mortification when she learnt that the baronet had
+bestowed his name and fortune on a woman of whom the fashionable world
+knew nothing, except that she was utterly unknown.
+
+Lydia Graham came to Raynham Castle with poisonous feelings rankling in
+her heart, but she wore her brightest smiles as well as her most
+elegant dresses. She congratulated the baronet in honeyed words, and
+offered warmest friendship to the lovely mistress of the mansion.
+
+"I am sure we shall suit each other delightfully, dear Lady
+Eversleigh," she said; "and we shall be fast friends henceforward-shall
+we not?"
+
+Honoria's disposition was naturally reserved. She revolted against
+frivolous and unmeaning sentimentality. She responded politely to Miss
+Graham's proffers of friendship; but not with corresponding warmth.
+
+Lydia Graham perceived the coldness of her manner, and bitterly
+resented it. She felt that she had reason to hate this woman, who had
+caused the disappointment of her dearest hopes, whose beauty was
+infinitely superior to her own; and who was several years younger than
+herself.
+
+There was one person at Raynham whose scrutinizing eyes perceived the
+animosity of feeling lurking beneath Lydia Graham's smooth manner. That
+penetrating observer was Victor Carrington. He saw that the fashionable
+beauty hated Lady Eversleigh, and he resolved to make use of her hatred
+for the furtherance of his schemes.
+
+"I fancy Miss Graham has at some time of her life cherished an idea
+that she might become mistress of this place, eh, Reginald?" he said
+one morning, as the two men lounged together on the terrace.
+
+"How did you know that?" said Reginald, questioning and replying at
+once.
+
+"By no diabolical power of divination, I assure you, my dear Reginald.
+I have only used my eyes. But it seems, from your exclamation, that I
+am right. Miss Graham did once hope to become Lady Eversleigh."
+
+"Well, I believe she tried her uttermost to win my uncle for a husband.
+I have watched her manoeuvres--when she was here two years ago; but
+they did not give me much uneasiness, for I thought Sir Oswald was a
+confirmed bachelor. She used to vary her amusements by flirting with
+me. I was the acknowledged heir in those days, you know, and I have no
+doubt she would have married me if I had given her the opportunity. But
+she is too clever a woman for my taste; and with all her brilliancy, I
+never admired her."
+
+"You are wise, for once in the way, my dear Reginald. Miss Graham is a
+dangerous woman. She has a very beautiful smile; but she is the sort of
+woman who can smile and murder while she smiles. But she may be made a
+very useful tool, notwithstanding."
+
+"A tool?"
+
+"Yes; a good workman takes his tools wherever he finds them. I may be
+in want of just such a tool as Lydia Graham."
+
+All went merry as a marriage-bell at Raynham Castle during the bright
+August weather. The baronet was unspeakably happy. Honoria, too, was
+happy in the novelty of her position; happy in the knowledge of her
+husband's love. His noble nature had won the reward such natures should
+win. He was beloved by his young wife as few men are beloved in the
+heyday of their youth. Her affection was reverential, profound, and
+pure. To her mind, Oswald Eversleigh was the perfection of all that is
+noble in mankind, and she was proud of his devotion, grateful of his
+love.
+
+No guest at the castle was more popular than Victor Carrington, the
+surgeon. His accomplishments were of so varied a nature as to make him
+invaluable in a large party, and he was always ready to devote himself
+to the amusement of others. Sir Oswald was astonished at the
+versatility of his nephew's friend. As a linguist, an artist, a
+musician, Victor alike shone pre-eminent; but in music he was
+triumphant. Professing only to be an amateur, he exhibited a scientific
+knowledge, a mechanical proficiency, as rare as they were admirable.
+
+"A poor man is obliged to study many arts," he said, carelessly, when
+Sir Oswald complimented him on his musical powers. "My life has been
+one of laborious industry; and the cultivation of music has been almost
+the only relaxation I have allowed myself. I am not, like Lady
+Eversleigh, a musical genius. I only pretend to be a patient student of
+the great masters."
+
+The baronet was delighted with the musical talents of his guest because
+they assisted much in the display of Lady Eversleigh's exceptional
+power. Victor Carrington's brilliant playing set off the magnificent
+singing of Honoria. With him as her accompanyist, she sang as she could
+not sing without his aid. Every evening there was an impromptu concert
+in the long drawing-room; every evening Lady Eversleigh sang to Victor
+Carrington's accompaniment.
+
+One evening, in the summer dusk, when she had been singing even more
+superbly than usual, Lydia Graham happened to be seated near Sir
+Oswald, in one of the broad open windows.
+
+"Lady Eversleigh is indeed a genius," said Miss Graham, at the close of
+a superb _bravura_; "but how delightful for her to have that
+accomplished Mr. Carrington to accompany her--though some people prefer
+to play their own accompaniments. I do, for instance; but when one has
+a relative who plays so well, it is, of course, a different thing."
+
+"A relative! I don't understand you, my dear Miss Graham."
+
+"I mean that it is very nice for Lady Eversleigh to have a cousin who
+is so accomplished a musician."
+
+"A cousin?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Carrington is Lady Eversleigh's cousin--is he not? Or, I beg
+your pardon, perhaps he is her brother. I don't know your wife's maiden
+name."
+
+"My wife's maiden name was Milford," answered the baronet, with some
+displeasure in his tone. "And Mr. Carrington is neither her brother nor
+her cousin; he is no relation whatever to her."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Miss Graham.
+
+There was a strange significance in that word "indeed"; and after
+having uttered it, the young lady seemed seized with a sudden sense of
+embarrassment.
+
+Sir Oswald looked at her sharply; but her face was half averted from
+him, as if she had turned away in confusion. "You seem surprised," he
+said, haughtily, "and yet I do not see anything surprising in the fact
+that my wife and Mr. Carrington are not related to each other."
+
+"Oh, dear no, Sir Oswald; of course not," replied Lydia, with a light
+laugh, which had the artificial sound of a laugh intended to disguise
+some painful embarrassment. "Of course not. It was very absurd of me to
+appear surprised, if I did really appear so; but I was not aware of it.
+You see, it was scarcely strange if I thought Lady Eversleigh and Mr.
+Carrington were nearly related; for, when people are very old friends,
+they seem like relations: it is only in name that there is any
+difference."
+
+"You seemed determined to make mistakes this evening, Miss Graham,"
+answered the baronet, with icy sternness. "Lady Eversleigh and Mr.
+Carrington are by no means old friends. Neither my wife nor I have
+known the gentleman more than a fortnight. He happens to be a very
+accomplished musician, and is good enough to make himself useful in
+accompanying Lady Eversleigh when she sings. That is the only claim
+which he has on her friendship; and it is one of only a few days'
+standing."
+
+"Indeed!" said Miss Graham, repeating the exclamation which had sounded
+so disagreeable to Sir Oswald. "I certainly should have mistaken them
+for old friends; but then dear Lady Eversleigh is of Italian
+extraction, and there is always a warmth of manner, an absence of
+reserve, in the southern temperament which is foreign to our colder
+natures."
+
+Lady Eversleigh rose from her seat just at this moment, in compliance
+with the entreaties of the circle about her.
+
+She approached the grand piano, where Victor Carrington was still
+sitting, turning over the leaves of some music, and at the same moment
+Sir Oswald rose also, and hurried towards her.
+
+"Do not sing any more to-night, Honoria," he said; "you will fatigue
+yourself."
+
+There was some lack of politeness in this speech, as Lady Eversleigh
+was about to sing in compliance with the entreaties of her guests. She
+turned to her husband with a smile--
+
+"I am not in the least tired, my dear Oswald," she said; "and if our
+friends really wish for another song, I am quite ready to sing one.
+That is to say, if Mr. Carrington is not tired of accompanying me."
+
+Victor Carrington declared that nothing gave him greater pleasure than
+to play Lady Eversleigh's accompaniments.
+
+"Mr. Carrington is very good," answered the baronet, coldly, "but I do
+not wish you to tire yourself by singing all the evening; and I beg
+that you will not sing again to-night, Honoria."
+
+Never before had the baronet addressed his wife with such cold decision
+of manner. There was something almost severe in his tone, and Honoria
+looked at him with wondering eyes.
+
+"I have no greater pleasure than in obeying you," she said, gently, as
+she withdrew from the piano.
+
+She seated herself by one of the tables, and opened a portfolio of
+sketches. Her head drooped over the book, and she seemed absorbed in
+the contemplation of the drawings. Glancing at her furtively, Sir
+Oswald could see that she was wounded; and yet he--the adoring husband,
+the devoted lover--did not approach her. His mind was disturbed--his
+thoughts confused. He passed through one of the open windows, and went
+out upon the terrace. There all was calm and tranquil; but the tranquil
+loveliness of the scene had no soothing influence on Sir Oswald. His
+brain was on fire. An intense affection can scarcely exist without a
+lurking tendency to jealousy. Until to-night every jealous feeling had
+been lulled to rest by the confiding trust of the happy husband; but
+to-night a few words--spoken in apparent carelessness--spoken by one
+who could have, as Sir Oswald thought, no motive for malice--had
+aroused the sleeping passion, and peace had fled from his heart.
+
+As Sir Oswald passed the window by which he had left Lydia Graham, he
+heard that young lady talking to some one.
+
+"It is positively disgraceful," she said; "her flirtation with that Mr.
+Carrington is really too obvious, though Sir Oswald is so blind as not
+to perceive it. I thought they were cousins until to-night. Imagine my
+surprise when I found that they were not even distantly related; that
+they have actually only known each other for a fortnight. The woman
+must be a shameless flirt, and the man is evidently an adventurer."
+
+The poisoned arrow shot to its mark. Sir Oswald believed that these
+words had never been intended to reach his ears. He did not for a
+moment suspect that Lydia Graham had recognized his approaching figure
+on the moonlit terrace, and had uttered these words to her friend on
+purpose that they should reach his ears.
+
+How should a true-hearted man suspect a woman's malice? How should he
+fathom the black depths of wickedness to which a really false and
+heartless woman can descend?
+
+He did not know that Lydia Graham had ever hoped to be mistress of his
+home. He did not know that she was inspired by fury against himself--by
+passionate envy of his wife. To him her words seemed only the careless
+slander of society, and experience had shown him that in such slanders
+there lurked generally some leaven of truth.
+
+"I will not doubt her," he thought, as he walked onward in the
+moonlight, too proud and too honourable to linger in order to hear
+anything more that Miss Graham might have to say. "I will not doubt the
+wife I love so fondly, because idle tongues are already busy with her
+fair fame. Already! We have not been married two months, and already
+evil tongues drop the poison of doubt into my ear. It seems too cruel!
+But I will watch her with this man. Her ignorance of the world may have
+caused her to be more familiar with him than the rigid usages of
+society would permit. And yet she is generally so dignified, so
+reserved--apt to err on the side of coldness rather than of warmth. I
+must watch!--I must watch!"
+
+Never before had Sir Oswald known the anguish of distrust. But his was
+an impulsive nature, easily swayed by the force of any absorbing
+passion. Blindly, unquestionably, as he had abandoned himself to his
+love for Honoria Milford, so now he abandoned himself to the jealous
+doubts inspired by a malicious woman's lying tongue.
+
+That night his slumbers were broken and feverish. The next day he set
+himself to watch his wife and Victor Carrington.
+
+The mind, imbued with suspicion, contemplates everything in a distorted
+light. Victor Carrington was especially attentive to the mistress of
+the castle. It was not that he talked to her, or usurped more of her
+society than his position warranted; but he devoted himself to her
+service with a slavish watchfulness which was foreign to the manner of
+an ordinary guest.
+
+Wherever Lady Eversleigh went, Carrington's eyes followed her; every
+wish of hers seemed to be divined by him. If she lingered for a few
+moments by an open window, Mr. Carrington was at hand with her shawl.
+If she was reading, and the leaves of her book required to be cut open,
+the surgeon had procured her a paper-knife before she could suffer
+inconvenience or delay. If she went to the piano, he was at the
+instrument before her, ready to adjust her chair, to arrange her music.
+In another man these attentions might have appeared very common-place,
+but so quiet of foot, so subdued of voice, was Victor Carrington, that
+there seemed something stealthy, something secret in his devotion;
+something which had no right to exist. One long day of patient
+watchfulness revealed all this to Sir Oswald Eversleigh; and with the
+revelation came a new and terrible agony.
+
+How far was his wife to blame for all that was exceptional in the
+surgeon's manner? Was she aware of his devotion? Did she encourage this
+silent and stealthy worship? She did not, at any rate, discourage it,
+since she permitted it.
+
+The baronet wondered whether Victor Carrington's manner impressed
+others as it impressed himself. One person had, he knew, been
+scandalized by the surgeon's devotion to Lady Eversleigh; and had
+spoken of it in the plainest terms. But did other eyes see as Lydia
+Graham and he himself had seen?
+
+He determined on questioning his nephew as to the character of the
+gentlemanly and accomplished surgeon, whom an impulse of kindness had
+prompted him to welcome under his roof--an impulse which he now
+bitterly regretted.
+
+"Your friend, Mr. Carrington, is very attentive to Lady Eversleigh,"
+said Sir Oswald to Reginald, with a pitiable attempt at indifference of
+manner; "is he generally so devoted in his attention to ladies?"
+
+"On the contrary, my dear uncle," answered Reginald, with an appearance
+of carelessness which was as well assumed as that of his kinsman was
+awkward and constrained; "Victor Carrington generally entertains the
+most profound contempt for the fair sex. He is devoted to the science
+of chemistry, you know, and in London passes the best part of his life
+in his laboratory. But then Lady Eversleigh is such a superior person--
+it is no wonder he admires her."
+
+"He admires her very much, then?"
+
+"Amazingly--if I can judge by what he said when first he became
+acquainted with her. He has grown more reserved lately."
+
+"Oh, indeed. He has grown more reserved lately, has he?" asked the
+baronet, whose suspicions were fed by every word his nephew uttered.
+
+"Yes. I suppose he thinks I might take objection to his enthusiastic
+admiration of Lady Eversleigh. Very absurd of him, is it not? For, of
+course, my dear uncle, you cannot feel otherwise than proud when you
+see your beautiful young wife surrounded by worshippers; and one
+devotee more or less at the shrine can make little difference."
+
+These words, carelessly spoken, galled Sir Oswald to the quick; but he
+tried to conceal his pain, and parted from his nephew with affected
+gaiety of spirit.
+
+Alone in his own study, he pondered long and moodily over the events of
+the day. He shrank from the society of his wife. Her tender words
+irritated him; he began to think those soft and loving accents were
+false. More than once he answered Honoria's anxious questions as to the
+cause of his gloom with a harshness that terrified her. She saw that
+her husband was changed, and knew not whence the change arose. And this
+vagrant's nature was a proud one. Her own manner changed to the man who
+had elevated her from the very mire to a position of splendour and
+honour. She, too, became reserved, and a cruel breach yawned between
+the husband and wife who, a few short days before, had been so happily
+united.
+
+Truly, Victor Carrington's schemes prospered. Reginald Eversleigh
+looked on in silent wonder--too base to oppose himself to the foul plot
+which was being concocted under his eyes. Whatever the schemer bade him
+do, he did without shame or scruple. Before him glittered the dazzling
+vision of future fortune.
+
+A week elapsed--a weary week for Sir Oswald Eversleigh, for every day
+and every hour seemed to widen the gulf between himself and his wife.
+Conscious of her innocence of the smallest offence against the man she
+truly and honestly loved, Honoria was too proud to sue for an
+explanation of that mysterious change which had banished all happiness
+and peace from her breast. More than once she had asked the cause of
+her husband's gloom of manner; more than once she had been coldly,
+almost rudely, repulsed. She sought, therefore, to question him no
+further; but held herself aloof from him with proud reserve. The cruel
+estrangement cost her dear; but she waited for Sir Oswald to break the
+ice--she waited for him to explain the meaning of his altered conduct.
+
+In the meantime, she performed all her duties as mistress of the
+mansion with the same calm grace which had distinguished her from the
+first hour of her elevation to her new position. But the struggle was a
+painful one, and left its traces on her beautiful face. Sir Oswald
+perceived the change in that lovely countenance, and his jealousy
+distorted this change into a damning evidence against her.
+
+"This man's devotion has touched her heart," he thought. "It is of him
+she is thinking when she is silent and pensive. She loves me no longer.
+Fool that I am, she never loved me! She saw in me a dupe ready to lift
+her from obscurity into the place she longed to occupy; and now that
+place is hers, she need no longer care to blindfold the eyes of her
+dupe; she may please herself, and enjoy the attentions of more
+agreeable adorers."
+
+Then, in the next moment, remorse took possession of the baronet's
+heart, and for awhile he fancied that he had wronged his wife.
+
+"Is she to blame because this man loves her?" he asked himself. "She
+may not even be aware of his love, though my watchful eyes have
+penetrated the secret. Oh, if I could only take her away from Raynham
+without delay--this very moment--or if I could clear the castle of all
+this frivolous, selfish, heartless gang--what happiness it would be!
+But I can do neither. I have invited these people, and I must play my
+part to the end. Even this Victor Carrington I dare not send out of my
+house; for, in so doing, I should confirm the suspicions of Lydia
+Graham, and all who think like her."
+
+Thus mused Sir Oswald as he paced the broad terrace-walk alone, while
+his guests were enjoying themselves in different parts of the castle
+and grounds; and while Lady Eversleigh spent the summer afternoon in
+her own apartments, brooding sadly on her husband's unkindness.
+
+There was one person to whom, in any ordinary trouble of mind, Sir
+Oswald Eversleigh would have most certainly turned for consolation; and
+that person was his old and tried friend, Captain Copplestone. But the
+jealous doubts which racked his brain were not to be revealed, even to
+this faithful friend. There was bitter humiliation in the thought of
+opening those bleeding wounds which had so newly lacerated his heart.
+
+If Captain Copplestone had been near his friend in the hour of his
+trouble, he might, perhaps, have wrung the baronet's secret from him in
+some unguarded moment; but within the last week the Captain had been
+confined to his own apartments by a violent attack of gout; and except
+a brief daily visit of inquiry, Sir Oswald had seen nothing of him.
+
+He was very carefully tended, however, in his hours of suffering. Even
+her own anxiety of mind did not render Lady Eversleigh forgetful of her
+husband's invalid friend. Every day, and many times a day, the Captain
+received some new evidence of her thoughtful care. It pleased her to do
+this--apart from her natural inclination to be kind to the suffering
+and friendless; for the soldier was her husband's valued friend, and in
+testifying her respect for him, it seemed to her as if she were in some
+manner proving her devotion to the husband from whom she had become so
+mysteriously estranged.
+
+Amongst the many plans which had been set on foot for the amusement of
+the guests at Raynham, there was one on which all the visitors, male
+and female, had especially set their hearts. This much-talked-of
+entertainment was a pic-nic, to take place at a celebrated spot, whose
+picturesque loveliness was supposed to be unrivalled in the county, and
+scarcely exceeded by any scene in all the expanse of fair England.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+                           AFTER THE PIC-NIC.
+
+The place was called the Wizard's Cave. It was a gigantic grotto, near
+which flowed a waterfall of surpassing beauty. A wild extent of
+woodland stretched on one side of this romantic scene; on the other a
+broad moor spread wide before a range of hills, one of which was
+crowned by the ruins of an old Norman castle that had stood many a
+siege in days gone by.
+
+It would have been difficult to select a spot better adapted for a pic-
+nic; and some of the gentlemen who had ridden over to inspect the scene
+were rapturous in their praises of its sylvan beauty. The cave lay
+within ten miles of Raynham. "Just the distance for a delightful
+drive," said the ladies--and from the moment that Sir Oswald had
+proposed the entertainment, there had been perpetual discussion of the
+arrangements necessary, the probability of fine weather, and the date
+to be finally chosen. The baronet had proposed this rustic _fete_ when
+his own heart had been light and happy; now he looked forward to the
+day with a sickening dread of its weariness. Others would be happy; but
+the sound of mirthful voices and light laughter would fall with a
+terrible discordance on the ear of the man whose mind was tortured by
+hidden doubts. Sir Oswald was too courteous a host to disappoint his
+visitors. All the preparations for the rustic festival were duly made:
+and on the appointed morning a train of horses and carriages drew up in
+a line in the quadrangle of the castle.
+
+It would have been impossible to imagine a brighter picture of English
+life; and as the guests emerged in groups from the wide, arched
+doorway, and took their places in the carriages, or sprang lightly into
+their saddles, the spectacle grew more and more enlivening.
+
+Lydia Graham had done her utmost to surpass all rivals on this
+important day. Wealthy country squires and rich young lordlings were to
+be present at the festival, and the husband-huntress might, perchance,
+find a victim among these eligible bachelors. Deeply as she was already
+in debt, Miss Graham had written to her French milliner, imploring her
+to send her a costume regardless of expense, and promising a speedy
+payment of at least half her long-standing account. The fair and false
+Lydia did not scruple to hint at the possibility of her making a
+brilliant matrimonial alliance ere many months were over, in order that
+this hope might beguile the long-suffering milliner into giving further
+credit.
+
+The fashionable beauty was not disappointed. The milliner sent the
+costume ordered, but wrote to inform Miss Graham, with all due
+circumlocution and politeness, that, unless her long-standing account
+were quickly settled, legal proceedings must be taken. Lydia threw the
+letter aside with a frown, and proceeded to inspect her dress, which
+was perfect in its way.
+
+But Miss Graham could scarcely repress a sigh of envy as she looked at
+Lady Eversleigh's more simple toilet, and perceived that, with all its
+appearance of simplicity, it was twice as costly as her own more
+gorgeous attire. The jewels, too, were worth more than all the trinkets
+Lydia possessed; and she knew that the treasures of Lady Eversleigh's
+jewel-cases were almost inexhaustible, with such a lavish hand had her
+husband heaped his gifts upon her.
+
+"Perhaps he will not be so liberal with his presents in future,"
+thought the malicious and disappointed woman, as she looked at Honoria,
+and acknowledged to her own envious heart that never had she seen her
+look more beautiful, more elegant, or more fitted to adorn the position
+which Miss Graham would willingly have persuaded herself she disgraced.
+"If he thinks that her love is bestowed upon another, he will scarcely
+find such delight in future in offering her costly tributes of
+affection."
+
+There was a great deal of discussion as to who should occupy the
+different carriages; but at last all was arranged apparently to every
+one's satisfaction. There were many who had chosen to ride; and among
+the equestrians was Sir Oswald himself.
+
+For the first time in any excursion, the baronet deserted his
+accustomed place by the side of his wife. Honoria deeply felt the
+slight involved in this desertion; but she was too proud to entreat him
+to alter his arrangements. She saw his favourite horse brought round to
+the broad steps; she saw her husband mount the animal without a word of
+remonstrance, without so much as a reproachful glance, though her heart
+was swelling with passionate indignation. And then she took her place
+in the barouche, and allowed the gentlemen standing near to assist in
+the arrangement of the shawls and carriage-rugs, which were provided in
+case of change of weather.
+
+Sir Oswald was not slow to remark that appearance of indifference. When
+once estrangement has arisen between those who truly love each other,
+everything tends to widen the breach. The jealous husband had chosen to
+separate himself from his wife in a sudden impulse of angry distrust;
+but he was still more angry, still more distrustful, when he saw her
+apparent carelessness of his desertion.
+
+"She is happier without me," he thought, bitterly, as he drew his horse
+on one side, and watched all that took place around the barouche.
+"Unrestrained by my presence, she will be free to revel in the
+flatteries of her younger admirers. She will be perfectly happy, for
+she will forget for a while that she is chained for life to a husband
+whom she does not love."
+
+A silvery laugh from Honoria seemed to answer his thoughts, and to
+confirm his suspicions. He little dreamed that laugh was assumed, in
+order to deceive the malicious Lydia, who had just uttered a polite
+little speech, intended to wound the mistress of Raynham.
+
+The baronet kept his horse a little way behind the carriage, and
+watched his wife with jealous and angry eyes.
+
+Lydia Graham had taken her seat in the barouche, and there was now a
+slight discussion as to the gentlemen who should accompany the two
+ladies. Many were eager for the privilege, and the occasion was a
+fitting one for the display of feminine coquetry. Miss Graham did not
+neglect the opportunity; and after a little animated conversation
+between the lady and a young fop who was heir to a peerage, the
+lordling took his place opposite the fashionable beauty.
+
+The second place still remained unoccupied. The baronet waited with
+painful eagerness to see who would take this place, for amongst the
+gentlemen grouped about the door of the carriage was Victor Carrington.
+
+Sir Oswald had not to wait long. He ground his teeth in a sudden access
+of jealous fury as he saw the young surgeon step lightly into the
+vehicle, and seat himself opposite Lady Eversleigh. He took it for
+granted that it was on that lady's invitation the young man occupied
+this place of honour. He did not for a moment imagine that it was at
+Lydia Graham's entreaty the surgeon had taken his seat in the barouche.
+And yet it was so.
+
+"Do come with us, Mr. Carrington," Lydia had said. "I know that you are
+well versed in county history and archaeology, and will be able to tell
+us all manner of interesting facts connected with the villages and
+churches we pass on our road."
+
+Lydia Graham hated Honoria for having won the proud position she
+herself had tried so hard to attain; she hated Sir Oswald for having
+chosen another in preference to herself; and she was determined to be
+revenged on both. She knew that her hints had already had their effect
+on the baronet; and she now sought, by every base and treacherous
+trick, to render Honoria Eversleigh an object of suspicion in the eyes
+of her husband. She had a double game to play; for she sought at once
+to gratify her ambition and her thirst for revenge. On one hand she
+wished to captivate Lord Sumner Howden; on the other she wanted to
+widen the gulf between Sir Oswald and his wife.
+
+She little knew that she was only playing into the hands of a deeper
+and more accomplished schemer than herself. She little thought that
+Victor Carrington's searching glance had penetrated the secrets of her
+heart; and that he watched her malicious manoeuvres with a calm sense
+of amusement.
+
+Though August had already given place to September, the weather was
+warm and balmy, as in the full glory of midsummer.
+
+Sir Oswald rode behind Lady Eversleigh's barouche, too remote to hear
+the words that were spoken by those who occupied the vehicle; but quite
+near enough to distinguish the tones and the laughter, and to perceive
+every gesture. He saw Victor bend forward to address Honoria. He saw
+that deferential and devoted manner which had so much offended him
+since he had first set himself to watch the surgeon. And Lady
+Eversleigh did not discourage her admirer; she let him talk; she seemed
+interested in his conversation; and as Lydia Graham and Lord Howden
+were entirely occupied with each other, the conversation between
+Honoria was a complete _tete-a-tete_. The young man's handsome head
+bent lower and lower over the plumed hat of Lady Eversleigh; and with
+every step of that ten-mile journey, the cloud that overshadowed the
+baronet's mind grew more profound in its fatal gloom. He no longer
+struggled against his doubts--he abandoned himself altogether to the
+passion that held possession of him.
+
+But the eyes of the world were on Sir Oswald, and he was obliged to
+meet those unpitying eyes with a smile. The long line of equipages drew
+up at last on the margin of a wood; the pleasure-seekers alighted, and
+wandered about in twos and threes amongst the umbrageous pathways which
+led towards the Wizard's Cave.
+
+After alighting from the barouche, Lady Eversleigh waited to see if her
+husband would approach her, and offer his arm; she had a faint hope
+that he would do so, even in spite of his evident estrangement; but her
+hope was cruelly disappointed. Sir Oswald walked straight to a portly
+dowager, and offered to escort her to the cave.
+
+"Do you remember a pic-nic here twenty years ago, at which you and I
+danced together by moon-light, Lady Hetherington?" he said. "We old
+folks have pleasant memories of the past, and are the fittest
+companions for each other. The young people can enjoy themselves much
+better without the restraint of our society."
+
+He said this loud enough for his wife to hear. She did hear every word,
+and felt there was hidden significance in that careless speech. For a
+moment she was inclined to break down the icy barrier of reserve. The
+words which she wanted to speak were almost on her lips, "Let me go
+with you, Oswald." But in the next instant she met her husband's eyes,
+and their cold gaze chilled her heart.
+
+At the same moment Victor Carrington offered her his arm, with his
+accustomed deferential manner. She accepted the proffered arm, scarcely
+knowing who offered it, so deeply did she feel her husband's
+unkindness.
+
+"What have I done to offend him?" she thought. "What is this cruel
+mystery which divides us, and which is almost breaking my heart?"
+
+"Come, Lady Eversleigh," cried several voices; "we want you to
+accompany us to the Wizard's Cave."
+
+Nothing could be more successful than the pic-nic. Elegantly dressed
+women and aristocratic-looking men wandered here and there amidst the
+woodland, and by the margin of the waterfall; sometimes in gay little
+parties, whose talk and laughter rang out clearly on the balmy air;
+sometimes strolling _tete-a-tete_, and engaged in conversations of a
+more confidential character. Half-hidden by the foliage of a little
+thicket of pollard oaks, there was a military band, whose services Sir
+Oswald had obtained from a garrison-town some twenty miles from
+Raynham, and the stirring music added much to the charm of the
+festival.
+
+Lydia Graham was as happy as it is possible for any evil-minded woman
+to be. Her envious feelings were lulled to temporary rest by the
+enjoyment of her own triumphs; for the young lordling seemed to be
+completely subjugated by her charms, and devoted himself exclusively to
+attendance upon her.
+
+The scheming beauty's heart thrilled with a sense of triumph. She
+thought that she had at last made a conquest that might be better worth
+the making than any of those past conquests, which had all ended in
+such bitter disappointments.
+
+She looked at Lady Eversleigh with flashing eyes, as she remembered
+that by the subjugation of this empty-headed young nobleman she might
+attain a higher position and greater wealth than that enjoyed by Sir
+Oswald's envied wife.
+
+"As Lady Sumner Howden, I could look down upon the mistress of Raynham
+Castle," she thought. "As Countess of Vandeluce, I should take
+precedence of nobler women than Lady Eversleigh."
+
+The day waned. The revellers lingered long over the splendid collation,
+served in a marquee which had been sent from York for the occasion. The
+banquet seemed a joyous one, enlivened by the sound of laughter, the
+popping of champagne corks, the joyous talk that emanated alike from
+the really light-hearted and those whose gaiety is only a mockery and a
+sham. The sun was sloping westward when Lady Eversleigh arose, absent
+and despondent, to give the signal for the withdrawal of the ladies.
+
+As she did so, she looked to the other end of the marquee--to the table
+where her husband had been seated. To her surprise, his place was
+empty.
+
+Throughout the whole day Honoria had been a prey to gloomy forebodings.
+The estrangement between herself and her husband was so unexpected, so
+inexplicable, that she was powerless to struggle against the sense of
+misery and bewilderment which it had occasioned in her mind.
+
+Again and again she asked herself what had she done to offend him;
+again and again she pondered over the smallest and most insignificant
+actions--the lightest words--of the past few weeks, in order to
+discover some clue to the mystery of Sir Oswald's altered conduct.
+
+But the past afforded her no such clue. She had said nothing, she had
+done nothing, which could offend the most sensitive of men.
+
+Then a new and terrible light began to dawn upon her. She remembered
+her wretched extraction--the pitiable condition in which the baronet
+had discovered her, and she began to think that he repented of his
+marriage. "He regrets his folly, and I am hateful in his eyes," thought
+Honoria, "for he remembers my degraded position--the mystery of my past
+life. He has heard sneering words and cruel innuendoes fall from the
+lips of his fashionable friends, perhaps; and he is ashamed of his
+marriage. He little knows how gladly I would release him from the tie
+that binds us--if, indeed, it has grown hateful to him." Thus musing
+and wandering alone, in one of the forest pathways--for she had
+outstripped her guests, and sought a little relief for her overwrought
+spirits, constrained to the courtesies of her position for the moment--
+she scarcely knew whither, she came presently upon a group of grooms,
+who were lounging before a rough canvas tent, which had been erected
+for the accommodation of the horses.
+
+"Is 'Orestes' in that tent, Plummer?" she asked of the old groom who
+generally attended her in her rides and drives.
+
+"No, my lady, Sir Oswald had him saddled a quarter of an hour ago, and
+rode him away."
+
+"Sir Oswald has gone away!"
+
+"Yes, my lady. He got a message, I think, while he was sitting at
+dinner, and he rode off as fast as he could go, across th' moor--it's
+the nighest way to the castle, you know, my lady; though it ain't the
+pleasantest."
+
+Honoria grew very uneasy. What was the meaning of this sudden
+departure?
+
+"Do you know who brought the message from Raynham?" she asked the
+groom.
+
+"No, indeed, my lady. I don't even know for sure and certain that the
+message was from Raynham. I only guess as much."
+
+"Why did not Sir Oswald take you with him?"
+
+"I can't say, my lady. I asked master if I wasn't to go with him, and
+he said, 'No, he would rather be alone.'"  This was all that Honoria
+could learn from the groom. She walked back towards the marquee, whence
+the sound of voices and laughter grew louder as the sun sank across the
+broad expanse of moorland.
+
+The ladies of the party had gathered together on a broad patch of
+velvet greensward, near the oak thicket where the band was stationed.
+Here the younger members of the party were waltzing merrily to the
+accompaniment of one of Strauss's sweetest waltzes; while the elders
+sat here and there on camp-stools or fallen logs of trees, and looked
+on, or indulged in a little agreeable gossip.
+
+Honoria Eversleigh made her way unobserved to the marquee, and
+approached one of the openings less used and less crowded than the
+others. Here she found a servant, whom she sent into the marquee with a
+message for Mr. Eversleigh, to inquire if he could explain Sir Oswald's
+sudden departure.
+
+The man entered the tent, in obedience to his mistress; and Lady
+Eversleigh seated herself on a camp-stool, at a little distance,
+awaiting the issue of her message.
+
+She had been waiting only a few moments, when she saw Victor Carrington
+approaching her hurriedly--not from the marquee, but from the pathway
+by which she herself had come. There was an unwonted agitation about
+his manner as he approached her, which, in her present state of nervous
+apprehension, filled her with alarm.
+
+She went to meet him, pale and trembling.
+
+"I have been looking for you everywhere, Lady Eversleigh," he said,
+hurriedly.
+
+"You have been looking for me? Something has happened then-Sir
+Oswald--"
+
+"Yes, it is, unhappily, of Sir Oswald I have to speak."
+
+"Speak quickly, then. What has happened? You are agonizing me, Mr.
+Carrington--for pity's sake, speak! Your face fills me with fear!"
+
+"Your fears are, unhappily, too well founded. Sir Oswald has been
+thrown from his horse, on his way across the moor, and lies dangerously
+hurt, at the ruins of Yarborough Tower--that black building on the edge
+of the moor yonder. A lad has just brought me the tidings."
+
+"Let me go to him--for heaven's sake, let me go at once! Dangerously
+hurt--he is dangerously hurt, you say?"
+
+"I fear so, from the boy's account."
+
+"And we have no medical man among our company. Yes; you are a surgeon--
+you can be of assistance."
+
+"I trust so, my dear Lady Eversleigh. I shall hurry to Sir Oswald
+immediately, and in the meantime they have sent from the tower for
+medical help."
+
+"I must go to him!" said Honoria, wildly. "Call the servants, Mr.
+Carrington! My carriage--this moment!"
+
+She could scarcely utter the words in her excitement. Her voice had a
+choking sound, and but for the surgeon's supporting arm she must have
+fallen prone on the grass at his feet.
+
+As she clung to his arm, as she gasped out her eager entreaties that he
+would take her to her husband, a faint rustling stirred the underwood
+beneath some sycamores at a little distance, and curious eyes peered
+through the foliage.
+
+Lydia Graham had happened to stroll that way. Her curiosity had been
+excited by the absence of Lady Eversleigh from among her guests, and,
+being no longer occupied by her flirtation with the young viscount, she
+had set out in search of the missing Honoria.
+
+She was amply rewarded for her trouble by the scene which she beheld
+from her hiding-place among the sycamores.
+
+She saw Victor and Lady Eversleigh talking to each other with every
+appearance of agitation; she saw the baronet's wife clinging, in some
+wild terror, to the arm of the surgeon; and she began to think that
+Honoria Eversleigh was indeed the base and guilty wretch she would fain
+have represented her.
+
+Lydia Graham was too far from the two figures to hear a word that was
+spoken. She could only watch their gestures, and draw her own
+inferences therefrom.
+
+"My carriage, Mr. Carrington!" repeated Honoria; "why don't you call
+the servants?"
+
+"One moment, Lady Eversleigh," said the surgeon, calmly. "You must
+remember, that on such an occasion as this, there is nothing so
+important as presence of mind--self-command. If I alarm your servants,
+all the guests assembled here will take the alarm; and they will rush
+helter-skelter to Yarborough Tower, to testify their devotion to Sir
+Oswald, and to do him all the harm they possibly can. What would be the
+effect of a crowd of half-drunken men, clustering round him, with their
+noisy expressions of sympathy? What I have to propose is this: I am
+going to Sir Oswald immediately in my medical capacity. I have a gig
+and horse ready, under that group of fir-trees yonder--the fastest
+horse and lightest vehicle I could find. If you will trust yourself in
+that vehicle behind that horse, I will drive you across the moor, and
+we shall reach the ruins in half an hour. Have you courage to come with
+me thus, Lady Eversleigh, quietly, unobserved by any one?--or will you
+wait for your barouche; and wait until the revellers yonder are all
+ready to start with you?"
+
+The voices came loudly from the marquee as the surgeon spoke; and
+Honoria felt that he spoke wisely.
+
+"You are right," she said; "these people must know nothing of the
+accident until my husband is safely back at Raynham. But you had better
+go and tell Plummer, the groom, to send the barouche after us. A
+carriage will be wanted to convey Sir Oswald from the tower, if he is
+fit to be moved."
+
+"True," answered Victor; "I will see to it."
+
+"And quickly!" cried Lady Eversleigh; "go quickly, I implore. You will
+find me by the fir-trees when you return, ready to start with you! Do
+not waste time in words, Mr. Carrington. Remember, it is a matter of
+life and death."
+
+Victor left her, and she walked to the little grove of firs, where she
+found the gig of which he had spoken, and the horse standing near it,
+ready harnessed, and with his bridle fastened to a tree.
+
+Two pathways led to this fir-grove--a lower and an upper--the upper
+completely screened by brushwood. Along this upper pathway, which was
+on the edge of a sloping bank, Lydia Graham made her way, careless what
+injury she inflicted on her costly dress, so eager was she to discover
+whither lady Eversleigh was going. Completely hidden from Honoria,
+though at only a few paces' distance, Miss Graham waited to watch the
+proceedings of the baronet's wife.
+
+She was mystified by the appearance of the gig and horse, stationed in
+this out-of-the-way spot. She was still more mystified when she saw
+Lady Eversleigh clasp her hands before her face, and stand for a few
+moments, motionless and statue-like, as if abandoned to despair.
+
+"What does it all mean?" Miss Graham asked herself. "Surely she cannot
+intend to elope with this Carrington. She may be wicked; but she cannot
+be so insane as to throw away wealth and position for the sake of this
+foreign adventurer."
+
+She waited, almost breathless with excitement, crouching amongst the
+brushwood at the top of the woody bank, and looking downward towards
+the fir-grove, with watchful eyes. She had not to wait long. Victor
+appeared in a few minutes, out of breath from running.
+
+"Have you given orders about the carriage?"
+
+"Yes, I have given all necessary orders."
+
+No more was said. Victor handed Lady Eversleigh into the vehicle, and
+drove away--slowly while they were still on the edge of the wood; but
+accelerating his pace as they emerged upon the moorland.
+
+"It _is_ an elopement!" exclaimed Miss Graham, whose astonishment was
+unbounded. "It _is_ an elopement! The infamous creature has gone off
+with that penniless young man. And now, Sir Oswald, I think you will
+have good reason to repent your fine romantic marriage with a base-born
+adventuress, whom nobody ever heard of until she burst forth upon the
+world as Lady Eversleigh of Raynham Castle."
+
+Filled with the triumphant delight of gratified malice, Lydia Graham
+went back to the broad greensward by the Wizard's Cave. The gentlemen
+had now left the marquee; the full moon was rising, round and yellow,
+on the horizon, like a great globe of molten gold. Preparations had
+already commenced for the return, and the younger members of the party
+were busy discussing the arrangements of the homeward drive.
+
+That moonlight drive was looked forward to as one of the chief
+pleasures of the excursion; it would afford such glorious opportunities
+for flirtation. It would enable romantic young ladies to quote so much
+poetry about the moon and the summer night, while poetically-disposed
+young gentlemen replied in the same strain. All was animation and
+excitement. The champagne and burgundy, the sparkling hock and moselle,
+which had been consumed in the marquee, had only rendered the majority
+of the gentlemen more gallant and agreeable; and softly-spoken
+compliments, and tender pressures of pretty little delicately-gloved
+hands, testified to the devotion of the cavaliers who were to escort
+the band of fair ones homeward.
+
+Lydia Graham hoped that she would be able to take up the thread of her
+flirtation with Lord Howden exactly where it had dropped when she had
+risen to leave the dinner-table. She had thought it even possible that,
+if she could secure a _tete-a-tete_ drive home with the weak-brained
+young nobleman, she might lure him on until he made a formal proposal,
+from which he would find it no easy matter to recede; for Captain
+Graham was at his sister's call, and was a gentleman of no very
+yielding temper where his own interests were at stake. He had long been
+anxious that his sister should make a wealthy marriage, for her debts
+and difficulties annoyed him; and he felt that if she were well
+married, he would be able to borrow money of her, instead of being
+pestered by her applications for assistance.
+
+Miss Graham was doomed to endure a disappointment. Lord Sumner Howden
+was one of the few gentleman upon whom iced champagne and moselle had
+produced anything but an exhilarating effect. He was dull and stupid,
+pallid and sleepy; like some great, greedy school-boy who has over-
+eaten himself, and is suffering the consequences of his gluttony.
+
+The fair Lydia had the mortification of hearing him tell one of the
+grooms to put him into a close carriage, where he could have a nap on
+his way home.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh took the lordling's seat in the barouche, which was
+the first in the line of carriages for the homeward journey, in spite
+of Honoria's entreaties to Victor Carrington. The young man was almost
+as dull and stupid, to all appearance, as Lord Sumner Howden; but,
+although he had been drinking deeply, intoxication had nothing to do
+with his gloomy silence.
+
+He knew that Carrington's scheme had been ripening day by day; and he
+knew also that within a few hours the final blow was to be struck. He
+did not know the nature of that intended stroke of treachery; but he
+was aware that it would involve misery and humiliation for Sir Oswald,
+utter ruin and disgrace for Honoria. The very uncertainty as to the
+nature of the cruel plot made it all the more dreadful; and he waited
+with no very pleasant feelings for the development of his friend's
+scheme.
+
+When all was ready for the start, it was discovered that "dear Lady
+Eversleigh" was missing. Servants were sent in every direction to
+search for her; but with no avail. Sir Oswald was also missed; but
+Plummer, the old groom, informed Mr. Eversleigh that his uncle had left
+some hours before; and as some of the party had seen the baronet leave
+the dinner-table, in compliance with a sudden summons, this occasioned
+little surprise.
+
+The next person missed was Victor Carrington. It was Lydia who drew
+attention to the fact of his absence.
+
+The party waited an hour, while search for Lady Eversleigh was renewed
+in every direction, while many of the guests expressed their fears that
+something must have happened to her--that she had wandered too far,
+and lost her way in the wood--or that she had missed her footing on
+the edge of one of the deep pools by the cavern, and had fallen into
+the water--or that she had been attacked by ruffians.
+
+But in due time it was discovered that Mr. Carrington had been seen to
+take a gig from amongst the vehicles; and a lad, who had been in charge
+of the gig and the horse belonging to it, told the other servants that
+Mr. Carrington had said he wanted the vehicle to drive Lady Eversleigh
+home. She was tired, Mr. Carrington had said, and wanted to go home
+quietly.
+
+This information was brought to Reginald by one of the upper servants;
+and the question of Lady Eversleigh's disappearance being at once set
+at rest, the procession of carriages moved away in the moonlight.
+
+"It was really too bad of dear Lady Eversleigh to give us such
+unnecessary alarm," said Lydia Graham.
+
+The lady who had taken the second place in the barouche agreed with
+this remark.
+
+"I never was more alarmed in my life," she said. "I felt sure that
+something very dreadful must have happened."
+
+"And to think that Lady Eversleigh should prefer going home in a gig,"
+said Lydia, maliciously; "for my part, I think a gig a most unpleasant
+vehicle."
+
+The other lady whispered something about Lady Eversleigh's humble
+extraction, and her ignorance of the usages of society.
+
+"You can't wonder at it, my dear," she murmured. "For my part, I was
+surprised to see her so much at her ease in her new position. But, you
+see, her ignorance has now betrayed her into a terrible breach of the
+proprieties. Her conduct is, to say the least of it, most eccentric;
+and you may depend, no one here will ever forget this ride home in a
+gig with that clever young surgeon. I don't suppose Sir Oswald will
+very much approve of such conduct."
+
+"Nor I," said Lydia, in the same subdued tone. "Poor Sir Oswald! What
+could he expect when he disgraced himself by such a marriage?"
+
+Reginald Eversleigh leaned back in the carriage, with his arum folded,
+and his eyes fixed on vacancy, while the ladies gossipped in whispers.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+                          ON YARBOROUGH TOWER.
+
+No sooner had Victor Carrington got completely clear of the wood, than
+he drove his horse at a gallop.
+
+The light gig swayed from side to side, and jolted violently several
+times on crossing some obstruction in the way.
+
+"You are not afraid?" asked Victor.
+
+"I am only afraid of delay," answered Honoria, calmly; for by this time
+she had recovered much of her ordinary firmness, and was prepared to
+face her sorrow with at least outward tranquillity. "Tell me, Mr.
+Carrington, have you reason to think that my husband is in great
+danger?"
+
+"I can tell you nothing for certain. You know how stupid the country
+people are. The boy who brought the message told me that the gentleman
+had been thrown from his horse, and was very much hurt. He was
+insensible, and was injured about the head. I gathered from this, and
+from the boy's manner, rather than his words, that the injuries were
+very serious."
+
+"Why was Sir Oswald taken to such a wretched place as a ruined tower?"
+
+"Because the accident happened near the ruin; and your husband was
+found by the people who have charge of the tower."
+
+"And could they take him to no better place?"
+
+"No. There is no habitation of any kind within three miles."
+
+No more was said. It was not very easy to talk while flying through the
+air at the utmost speed of a spirited horse.
+
+The moon bathed the broad moorland in mellow light. The wide expanse of
+level turf looked like a sea of black water that had suddenly been
+frozen into stillness. Not a tree--not a patch of brushwood, or a
+solitary bush--broke the monotony of the scene: but far away against
+the moonlit horizon rose a wild and craggy steep, and on the summit of
+that steep appeared a massive tower, with black and ruined battlements,
+that stood out grimly against the luminous sky.
+
+This was Yarborough Tower--a stronghold that had defied many a
+besieging force in the obscure past; but of the origin of which little
+was now known.
+
+Victor Carrington drove the gig up a rough and narrow road that curved
+around the sides of the craggy hill, and wound gradually towards the
+top.
+
+He was obliged to drive slowly here, and Lady Eversleigh had ample
+leisure to gaze upwards at the dreary-looking ruin, whose walls seemed
+more densely black as they grew nearer and nearer.
+
+"What a horrible place!" she murmured. "To think of my husband lying
+there--with no better shelter than those ruined walls in the hour of
+his suffering."
+
+Honoria Eversleigh looked around her with a shudder, as the gig passed
+across a narrow wooden drawbridge that spanned an enormous chasm in the
+craggy hill-side.
+
+She looked up at the tower. All was dark, and the dismal cry of a raven
+suddenly broke the awful stillness with a sound that was even yet more
+awful.
+
+"Why are there no lights in the windows?" she asked; "surely Sir Oswald
+is not lying in the darkness?"
+
+"I don't know. The chamber in which they have placed him may be on the
+other side of the tower," answered Victor, briefly. "And now, Lady
+Eversleigh, you must alight. We can go no further with the vehicle, and
+I must take it back to the other side of the drawbridge."
+
+They had reached the entrance of the tower, an archway of solid
+masonry, over which the ivy hung like a sombre curtain.
+
+Honoria alighted, and passed under the black shadow of the arch.
+
+"You had better wait till I return, Lady Eversleigh," said Victor. "You
+will scarcely find your way without my help."
+
+Honoria obeyed. Anxious as she was to reach Sir Oswald without a
+moment's unnecessary delay, she felt herself powerless to proceed
+without a guide--so dark was the interior of the tower. She heard the
+ravens shrieking hoarsely in the battlements above, and the ivy
+flapping in the evening wind; but she could hear nothing else.
+
+Victor came back to her in a few minutes. As he rejoined her, there was
+a noise of some ponderous object falling, with a grating and rattling
+of heavy chains; but Lady Eversleigh was too much absorbed by her own
+anxieties to feel any curiosity as to the origin of the sound.
+
+"Come," said Victor; "give me your hand, Lady Eversleigh, and let me
+guide you."
+
+She placed her hand in that of the surgeon. He led her to a steep
+staircase, formed by blocks of solid stone, which were rendered
+slippery by the moss that had gathered on them. It was a winding
+staircase, built in a turret which formed one angle of the tower.
+Looking upwards, Honoria saw a gap in the roof, through which the
+moonlight shone bright. But there was no sign of any other light.
+
+"Where is my husband?" she asked. "I see no lights; I hear no voices;
+the place seems like a tomb."
+
+Victor Carrington did not answer her question.
+
+"Come," he said, in a commanding voice. "Follow me, Lady Eversleigh."
+
+He still held her hand, and she obeyed him, making her way with some
+difficulty up the steep and winding staircase.
+
+At last she found herself at the top. A narrow doorway opened before
+her; and following her companion through this doorway, she emerged on
+the roof of the tower.
+
+Around her were the ruined battlements, broken away altogether here and
+there; below her was the craggy hill-side, sloping downwards to the
+wide expanse of the moorland; above her was the purple sky, flooded
+with the calm radiance of the moon; but there was no sign of human
+habitation, no sound of a human voice.
+
+"Where is my husband, Mr. Carrington?" she cried, with a wild alarm,
+which had but that moment taken possession of her. "This ruin is
+uninhabited. I saw the empty rooms, through gaps in the broken wall as
+we came up that staircase. Where is my husband?"
+
+"At Raynham Castle, Lady Eversleigh, to the best of my knowledge,"
+answered the surgeon, with imperturbable calmness.
+
+He had seated himself on one of the broken battlements, in a lounging
+attitude, with one arm leaning on the ruined stone, and he was looking
+quietly out at the solitary expanse of barren waste sleeping beneath
+the moonlight.
+
+Lady Eversleigh looked at him with a countenance that had grown rigid
+with horror and alarm.
+
+"My husband at Raynham--at Raynham!" she repeated, as if she could not
+credit the evidence of her own ears. "Am I mad, or are you mad, Mr.
+Carrington? My husband at Raynham Castle, you say?"
+
+"I cannot undertake to answer positively for the movements of any
+gentleman; but I should say that, at this present moment, Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh is in his own house, for which he started some hours ago."
+
+"Then why am I here?"
+
+"To answer that question clearly will involve the telling of a long
+story, Lady Eversleigh," answered Victor. "My motive for bringing you
+here concerns myself and another person. You are here to farther the
+interests of two people, and those two people are Reginald Eversleigh
+and your humble servant."
+
+"But the accident? Sir Oswald's danger--"
+
+"I must beg you not to give yourself any further alarm on that subject.
+I regret very much that I have been obliged to inflict unnecessary pain
+upon a lady. The story of the accident is a little invention of my own.
+Sir Oswald is perfectly safe."
+
+"Thank heaven!" cried Honoria, clasping her hands in the fervour of
+sudden gratitude; "thank heaven for that!"
+
+Her face looked beautiful, as she lifted it towards the moonlit sky.
+Victor Carrington contemplated her with wonder.
+
+"Can it be possible that she loves this man?" he thought. "Can it be
+that she has not been acting a part after all?"
+
+Her first thought, on hearing that she had been deceived, was one of
+unmingled joy, of deep and heartfelt gratitude. Her second thought was
+of the shameful trick that had been played upon her; and she turned to
+Victor Carrington with passionate indignation.
+
+"What is the meaning of this juggling, sir?" she cried; "and why have I
+been brought to this place?"
+
+"It is a long story, Lady Eversleigh, and I would recommend you to calm
+yourself before you listen to it, if you have any wish to understand me
+clearly."
+
+"I can stop to listen to no long stories, sir. Your trick is a shameful
+and unmanly one, whatever its motive. I beg that you will take me back
+to Raynham without a moment's delay; and I would advise you to comply
+with my request, unless you wish to draw upon yourself Sir Oswald's
+vengeance for the wrong you have done me. I am the last person in the
+world to involve my husband in a quarrel; but if you do not immediately
+take steps towards restoring me to my own home, I shall certainly let
+him know how deeply I have been wronged and insulted."
+
+"I am not afraid of your husband, my dear Lady Eversleigh," answered
+the surgeon, with cool insolence; "for I do not think Sir Oswald will
+care to take up the cudgels in your defence, after the events of to-
+night."
+
+Honoria Eversleigh looked at the speaker with unutterable scorn, and
+then turned towards the doorway which communicated with the staircase.
+
+"Since you refuse to assist in my return, I will go alone and
+unassisted," she said.
+
+Victor raised his hand with a warning gesture.
+
+"Do not attempt to descend that staircase, my dear Lady Eversleigh," he
+said. "In the first place, the steps are slippery, and the descent very
+dangerous; and, in the next, you would find yourself unable to go
+beyond the archway."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Oblige me by looking down through that breach in the battlements."
+
+He had risen from his lounging position, and pointed downward as he
+spoke.
+
+Involuntarily Honoria followed the indication of his hand.
+
+A cry of horror broke from her lips as she looked below. The drawbridge
+no longer spanned the chasm. It had fallen, and hung over the edge of
+the abyss, suspended by massive chains. On all sides of the tower
+yawned a gulf of some fifteen feet wide.
+
+At first Lady Eversleigh thought that this chasm might only be on one
+side of the ruin, but on rushing to the opposite battlements, and
+looking down, she saw that it was a moss-grown stone-moat, which
+completely encircled the stronghold.
+
+"The warriors of old knew how to build their fortresses, and how to
+protect themselves from their foes," said Victor Carrington, as if in
+answer to his companion's despairing cry. "Those who built this edifice
+and dug that moat, little knew how useful their arrangements would be
+in these degenerate days. Do not pace to and fro with that distracted
+air, Lady Eversleigh. Believe me, you will do wisely to take things
+quietly. You are doomed to remain here till daybreak. This ruin is in
+the care of a man who leaves it at a certain hour every evening. When
+he leaves, he drops the drawbridge--you must have heard him do it a
+little while ago--and no hand but his can raise the chains that support
+it; for he only knows the secret of their machinery. He has left the
+place for the night. He lives three miles and a half away, at a little
+village yonder, which looks only a black speck in the distance, and he
+will not return till some time after daybreak."
+
+"And you would keep me a prisoner here--you would detain me in this
+miserable place, while my husband is, no doubt, expecting me at
+Raynham, perplexed and bewildered by my mysterious absence?"
+
+"Yes, Lady Eversleigh, there will be wonder and perplexity enough on
+your account to-night at Raynham Castle."
+
+There was a pause after this.
+
+Honoria sank upon a block of fallen stone, bewildered, terror-
+stricken, for the moment powerless to express either her fears or her
+indignation, so strange, so completely inexplicable was the position in
+which she found herself.
+
+"I am in the power of a maniac," she murmured; "no one but a maniac
+could be capable of this wild act. My life is in the power of a madman.
+I can but wait the issue. Let me be calm. Oh, merciful heaven, give me
+fortitude to face my danger quietly!"
+
+The strength she prayed for seemed to come with the prayer.
+
+The wild beating of her heart slackened a little. She swept the heavy
+masses of hair away from her forehead, and bound the fallen plaits in a
+knot at the back of her head. She did this almost as calmly as if she
+had been making her toilet in her dressing-room at Raynham. Victor
+Carrington watched her with surprise.
+
+"She is a wonderful woman," he said to himself; "a noble creature. As
+powerful in mind as she is lovely in person. What a pity that I should
+make myself the enemy of this woman for the sake of such a mean-
+spirited hound as Reginald Eversleigh! But my interests compel me to
+run counter to my inclination. It is a great pity. With this woman as
+my ally, I might have done greater things than I shall ever do by
+myself."
+
+Victor Carrington mused thus while Honoria Eversleigh sat on the edge
+of the broken wall, at a few paces from him, looking calmly out at the
+purple sky.
+
+She fully believed that she had fallen into the power of a maniac.
+What, except madness, could have prompted such conduct as that of
+Victor Carrington's?
+
+She knew that there is no defence so powerful as an appearance of
+calmness; and it was with tranquillity she addressed her companion,
+after that interval of deliberation.
+
+"Now, Mr. Carrington," she said, "since it seems I am your prisoner,
+perhaps you will be good enough to inform me why you have brought me to
+this place, and what injury I have ever done you that you should
+inflict so deep a wrong on me?"
+
+"You have never injured _me_, Lady Eversleigh," replied Victor
+Carrington; "but you have injured one who is my friend, and whose
+interests are closely linked with mine."
+
+"Who is that friend?"
+
+"Reginald Eversleigh."
+
+"Reginald Eversleigh!" repeated Honoria, with amazement. "In what
+manner have I injured Reginald Eversleigh? Is he not my husband's
+nephew, and am I not bound to feel interest in his welfare? How, then,
+can I have injured him?"
+
+"You have done him the worst wrong that one individual can do another--
+you stand between him and fortune. Do you not know that, little more
+than a year ago, Reginald Eversleigh was the heir to Raynham and all
+its surroundings?"
+
+"I know that; but he was disinherited before I crossed his uncle's
+pathway."
+
+"True; but had you _not_ crossed Sir Oswald's path, there is no doubt
+Reginald would have been restored to favour. But you have woven your
+spells round his kinsman, and his only hope lies in your disgrace--"
+
+"My disgrace!"
+
+"Yes, Lady Eversleigh. Life is a battle, in which the weakest must be
+trodden down; you have triumphed hitherto, but the hour of your triumph
+is past. Yesterday you were queen of Raynham Castle; to-morrow no
+kitchen-wench within its walls will be so low as you."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Honoria, more and more mystified every moment
+by her companion's words.
+
+For the first time, an awful fear took possession of her, and she began
+to perceive that she was the victim of a foul and villanous plot.
+
+"What do you mean?" she repeated, in accents of alarm.
+
+"I mean this, Lady Eversleigh--the world judges of people's actions by
+their outward seeming, not by their inward truth. Appearances have
+conspired to condemn you. Before to-morrow every creature in Raynham
+Castle will believe that you have fled from your home, and with me--"
+
+"Fled from my home!"
+
+"Yes; how else can your absence to-night--your sudden disappearance
+from the pic-nic--be construed?"
+
+"If I live, I shall go back to the castle at daybreak to-morrow
+morning--go back to denounce your villany--to implore my husband's
+vengeance on your infamy!"
+
+"And do you think any one will believe your denunciation? You will go
+back too late Lady Eversleigh."
+
+"Oh, villain! villain!" murmured Honoria, in accents of mingled
+abhorrence and despair--abhorrence of her companion's infamy, despair
+inspired by the horror of her own position.
+
+"You have played for a very high stake, Lady Eversleigh," said the
+surgeon; "and you must not wonder if you have found opponents ready to
+encounter your play with a still more desperate, and a still more
+dexterous game. When a nameless and obscure woman springs from poverty
+and obscurity to rank and riches, she must expect to find others ready
+to dispute the prize which she has won."
+
+"And there can exist a wretch calling himself a man, and yet capable of
+such an act as this!" cried Honoria, looking upward to the calm and
+cloudless sky, as if she would have called heaven to witness the
+iniquity of her enemy. "Do not speak to me, sir," she added, turning to
+Victor Carrington, with unutterable scorn. "I believed a few minutes
+ago that you were a madman, and I thought myself the victim of a
+maniac's folly. I understand all now. You have plotted nobly for your
+friend's service; and he will, no doubt, reward you richly if you
+succeed. But you have not yet succeeded. Providence sometimes seems to
+favour the wicked. It his favoured you, so far; but the end has not
+come yet."
+
+She turned from him and walked to the opposite side of the tower. Here
+she seated herself on the battlemented wall, as calm, in outward
+seeming, as if she had been in her own drawing-room. She took out a
+tiny jewelled watch; by that soft light she could perceive the figures
+on the dial.
+
+It was a few minutes after one o'clock. It was not likely that the man
+who had charge of the ruins would come to the tower until seven or
+eight in the morning. For six or seven hours, therefore, Honoria
+Eversleigh was likely to be a prisoner--for six or seven hours she
+would have to endure the hateful presence of the man whose treachery
+had placed her in this hideous position.
+
+Despair reigned in her heart, entire and overwhelming despair. When
+released from her prison, she might hurry back to the castle. But who
+would believe a story so wild, so improbable, as that which she would
+have to tell?
+
+Would her husband believe her? Would he, who had to all appearance
+withdrawn his love from her for no reason whatever--would he believe in
+her purity and truth, when circumstances conspired in damning evidence
+of her guilt? A sense of hopeless misery took possession of her heart;
+but no cry of anguish broke from her pale lips. She sat motionless as a
+statue, with her eyes fixed upon the eastern horizon, counting the
+moments as they passed with cruel slowness, watching with yearning gaze
+for the first glimmer of morning.
+
+Victor Carrington contemplated that statuesque figure, that pale and
+tranquil face, with unalloyed admiration. Until to-night he had
+despised women as frail, helpless creatures, only made to be flattered
+by false words, and tyrannized over by stronger natures than their own.
+Among all the women with whom he had ever been associated, his mother
+was the only one in whose good sense he had believed, or for whose
+intellect he had felt the smallest respect. But now he beheld a woman
+of another stamp--a woman whose pride and fortitude were akin to the
+heroic.
+
+"You endure the unpleasantness of your position nobly, Lady
+Eversleigh," he said; "and I can find no words to express my admiration
+of your conduct. It is very hard to find oneself the enemy of a lady,
+and, above all, of a lady whose beauty and whose intellect are alike
+calculated to inspire admiration. But in this world, Lady Eversleigh,
+there is only one rule--only one governing principle by which men
+regulate their lives--let them seek as they will to mask the truth with
+specious lies, which other men pretend to believe, but do not. That one
+rule, that one governing principle, is SELF-INTEREST. For the
+advancement of his own fortunes, the man who calls himself honest will
+trample on the dearest ties, will sacrifice the firmest friendships.
+The game which Reginald Eversleigh and I have played against you is a
+desperate one; but Sir Oswald rendered his nephew desperate when he
+reduced him, in one short hour, from wealth to poverty--when he robbed
+him of expectations that had been his from infancy. A desperate man
+will do desperate deeds; and it has been your fate, Lady Eversleigh, to
+cross the path of such a man."
+
+He waited, with his eyes fixed on the face of Sir Oswald's wife. But
+during the whole of his speech she had never once looked at him. She
+had never withdrawn her eyes from the eastern horizon. Passionless
+contempt was expressed by that curving lip, that calm repose of eye and
+brow. It seemed as if this woman's disdain for the plotting villain
+into whose power she had fallen absorbed every other feeling.
+
+Victor Carrington waited in vain for some reply from those scornful
+lips; but none came. He took out his cigar-case, lighted a cigar, and
+sat in a meditative attitude, smoking, and looking down moodily at the
+black chasm below the base of the tower. For the first time in his life
+this man, who was utterly without honour or principle--this man, who
+held self-interest as the one rule of conduct--this unscrupulous
+trickster and villain, felt the bitterness of a woman's scorn. He would
+have been unmoved by the loudest evidence of his victim's despair; but
+her silent contempt stung him to the quick. The hours dragged
+themselves out with a hideous slowness for the despairing creature who
+sat watching for the dawn; but at last that long night came to an end,
+the chill morning light glimmered faint and gray in the east. It was
+not the first time that Sir Oswald's wife had watched in anguish for
+the coming of that light. In that lonely tower, with her heart tortured
+by a sense of unutterable agony, there came back to her the memory of
+another vigil which she had kept more than two years before.
+
+_She heard the dull, plashing sound of a river, the shivering of
+rushes, then the noise of a struggle, oaths, a heavy crashing fall, a
+groan, and then no more_!
+
+Blessed with her husband's love, she had for a while closed her eyes
+upon that horrible picture of the past; but now, in the hour of
+despair, it came back to her, hideously distinct, awfully palpable.
+
+"How could I hope for happiness?" she thought; "I, the daughter of an
+assassin! The sins of one generation are visited on another. A curse is
+upon me, and I can never hope for happiness."
+
+The sun rose, and shone broad and full over the barren moorland; but it
+was several hours after sunrise before the man who took care of the
+ruins came to release the wretched prisoner.
+
+He picked up a scanty living by showing the tower to visitors, and he
+knew that no visitors were likely to come before nine o'clock in the
+morning. It was nearly nine when Honoria saw him approaching in the
+distance.
+
+It was after nine when he drew up the bridge, and came across it to the
+ruined fortress.
+
+"You are free from this moment, Lady Eversleigh," said the surgeon,
+whose face looked horribly pale and worn in the broad sunlight. That
+night of watching had not been without its agony for him.
+
+Honoria did not condescend to notice his words. She took up the plumed
+hat, which had been lying among the long grass at her feet. The
+delicate feathers were wet and spoiled by the night dew, and she took
+them from the fragile hat and flung them away. Her thin, white dress
+was heavy with the damp, and clung round her like a shroud. But she had
+not felt the chilling night winds.
+
+Lady Eversleigh groped her way down the winding staircase, which was
+dark even in the daytime--except here and there, where a gap in the
+wall let in a patch of light upon the gloomy stones.
+
+Under the archway she met the countryman, who uttered a cry on
+beholding the white, phantom-like figure.
+
+"Oh, Loard!" he cried, when he had recovered from his terror; "I ask
+pardon, my lady, but danged if I didn't teak thee for a ghaist."
+
+"You did not know, when you went away last night, that there was any
+one in the tower?"
+
+"No, indeed, my lady. I'd been away for a few minutes look'n' arter a
+bit of peg I've got in a shed down yander; and when I keame back to let
+down th' drawbridge, I didn't sing out to ax if there wur any one in
+th' old too-wer, for t'aint often as there be any one at that time of
+night."
+
+"Tell me the way to the nearest village," cried Honoria. "I want to get
+some conveyance to take me to Raynham."
+
+"Then you had better go to Edgington, ma'am. That's four miles from
+here--on t' Raynham ro-ad."
+
+The man pointed out the way to the village of which he spoke; and Lady
+Eversleigh set forth across the wide expanse of moorland alone.
+
+She had considerable difficulty in finding her way, for there were no
+landmarks on that broad stretch of level turf. She wandered out of the
+track more than once, and it was one o'clock before she reached the
+village of Edgington.
+
+Here, after considerable delay, she procured a carriage to take her on
+to Raynham; but there was little chance that she could reach the castle
+until between three and four o'clock in the afternoon.
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER X.
+
+
+              "HOW ART THOU LOST!--HOW ON A SUDDEN LOST!"
+
+If Honoria Eversleigh had endured a night of anguish amid the wild
+desolation of Yarborough Tower, Sir Oswald had suffered an agony
+scarcely less terrible at Raynham. He had been summoned from the
+dinner-table in the marquee by one of his servants, who told him that a
+boy was waiting for him with a letter, which he would entrust to no one
+but Sir Oswald Eversleigh himself.
+
+Mystified by the strange character of this message, Sir Oswald went
+immediately to see the boy who had brought it. He found a lad waiting
+for him under the trees near the marquee. The boy handed him a letter,
+which he opened and read immediately.
+
+The contents of that letter were well calculated to agitate and disturb
+him.
+
+The letter was anonymous. It consisted of the following words:--
+
+"_If Sir Oswald Eversleigh wishes to be convinced of his wife's truth
+or falsehood, let him ride back to Raynham without a moment's delay.
+There he will receive ample evidence of her real character. He may have
+to wait; but the friend who writes this advises him to wait patiently.
+He will not wait in vain_.
+
+                                  "A NAMELESS COUNSELLOR."
+
+A fortnight before, Sir Oswald would have flung such a letter as this
+away from him with indignant scorn; but the poison of suspicion had
+done its corroding work.
+
+For a little time Sir Oswald hesitated, half-inclined to despise the
+mysterious warning. All his better feelings prompted him to disregard
+this nameless correspondent--all his noblest impulses urged him to
+confide blindly and unquestioningly in the truth of the wife he loved;
+but jealousy--that dark and fatal passion--triumphed over every
+generous feeling, and he yielded to the influence of his hidden
+counsellor.
+
+"No harm can arise from my return to Raynham," he thought. "My friends
+yonder are enjoying themselves too much to trouble themselves about my
+absence. If this anonymous correspondent is fooling me, I shall soon
+discover my mistake."
+
+Having once arrived at this determination, Sir Oswald lost no time in
+putting it into execution. He ordered his horse, Orestes, and rode away
+as fast as the animal would carry him.
+
+Arrived at Raynham, he inquired if any one had asked for him, but was
+told there had not been any visitors at the castle throughout the day.
+
+Again and again Sir Oswald consulted the anonymous letter. It told him
+to wait, but for what was he to wait? Half ashamed of himself for
+having yielded to the tempter, restless and uneasy in spirit, he
+wandered from room to room in the twilight, abandoned to gloomy and
+miserable thoughts.
+
+The servants lighted the lamps in the many chambers of Raynham, while
+Sir Oswald paced to and fro--now in the long drawing-room; now in the
+library; now on the terrace, where the September moon shone broad and
+full. It was eleven o'clock when the sound of approaching wheels
+proclaimed the return of the picnic party; and until that hour the
+baronet had watched and waited without having been rewarded by the
+smallest discovery of any kind whatever. He felt bitterly ashamed of
+himself for having been duped by so shallow a trick.
+
+"It is the handiwork of some kind friend; the practical joke of some
+flippant youngster, who thinks it a delightful piece of humour to play
+upon the jealousy of a husband of fifty," mused the baronet, as he
+brooded over his folly. "I wish to heaven I could discover the writer
+of the epistle. He should find that it is rather a dangerous thing to
+trifle with a man's feelings."
+
+Sir Oswald went himself to assist at the reception of his guests. He
+expected to see his wife arrive with the rest. For the moment, he
+forgot all about his suspicions of the last fortnight. He thought only
+of the anonymous letter, and the wrong which he had done Honoria in
+being influenced by its dark hints.
+
+If he could have met his wife at that moment, when every impulse of his
+heart drew him towards her, all sense of estrangement would have melted
+away; all his doubts would have vanished before a smile from her. But
+though Sir Oswald found his wife's barouche the first of the carriages,
+she was not in it. Lydia Graham told him how "dear Lady Eversleigh" had
+caused all the party such terrible alarm.
+
+"I suppose she reached home two hours ago," added the young lady. "She
+had more than an hour's start of us; and with that light vehicle and
+spirited horse she and Mr. Carrington must have come so rapidly."
+
+"My wife and Mr. Carrington! What do you mean, Miss Graham?"
+
+Lydia explained, and Reginald Eversleigh confirmed her statement. Lady
+Eversleigh had left the Wizard's Cave more than an hour before the rest
+of the party, accompanied by Mr. Carrington.
+
+No words can describe the consternation of Sir Oswald. He did his best
+to conceal his alarm; but the livid hue of his face, the ashen pallor
+of his lips, betrayed the intensity of his emotion. He sent out mounted
+grooms to search the different roads between the castle and the scene
+of the pic-nic; and then he left his guests without a word, and shut
+himself in his own apartments, to await the issue of the search.
+
+Had any fatal accident happened to her and her companion?--or were
+Honoria Eversleigh and Victor Carrington two guilty creatures, who had
+abandoned themselves to the folly and madness of a wicked attachment,
+and had fled together, reckless alike of reputation and fortune?
+
+He tried to believe that this latter chance was beyond the region of
+possibility; but horrible suspicions racked his brain as he paced to
+and fro, waiting for the issue of the search that was being made.
+
+Better that he should be told that his wife had been found lying dead
+upon the hard, cruel road, than that he should hear that she had left
+him for another; a false and degraded creature!
+
+"Why did she trust herself to the companionship of this man?" he asked
+himself. "Why did she disgrace herself by leaving her guests in the
+company of a young man who ought to be little more than a stranger to
+her? She is no ignorant or foolish girl; she has shown herself able to
+hold her own in the most trying positions. What madness could have
+possessed her, that she should bring disgrace upon herself and me by
+such conduct as this?"
+
+The grooms came back after a search that had been utterly in vain. No
+trace of the missing lady had been discovered. Inquiries had been made
+everywhere along the road, but without result. No gig had been seen to
+pass between the neighbourhood of the Wizard's Cave and Raynham Castle.
+
+Sir Oswald abandoned himself to despair.
+
+There was no longer any hope: his wife had fled from him. Bitter,
+indeed, was the penalty which he was called upon to pay for his
+romantic marriage--his blind confidence in the woman who had fascinated
+and bewitched him. He bowed his head beneath the blow, and alone,
+hidden from the cruel gaze of the world, he resigned himself to his
+misery.
+
+All that night he sat alone, his head buried in his clasped hands,
+stunned and bewildered by his agony.
+
+His valet, Joseph Millard, knocked at the door at the usual hour,
+anxious to assist at his master's toilet; but the door was securely
+locked, and Sir Oswald told his servant that he needed no help. He
+spoke in a firm voice; for he knew that the valet's ear would be keen
+to mark any evidence of his misery. When the man was gone, he rose up
+for the first time, and looked across the sunlit woods.
+
+A groan of agony burst from his lips as he gazed upon that beautiful
+landscape.
+
+He had brought his young wife to be mistress of this splendid domain.
+He had shown her that fair scene; and had told her that she was to be
+queen over all those proud possessions until the day of her death. No
+hand was ever to rob her of them. They were the free gift of his
+boundless love! to be shared only by her children, should heaven bless
+her and her husband with inheritors for this ancient estate. He had
+never been weary of testifying his devotion, his passionate love; and
+yet, before she had been his wife three months, she left him for
+another.
+
+While he stood before the open window, with these bitter thoughts in
+his mind, he heard the sound of wheels in the corridor without. The
+wheels belonged to an invalid chair, used by Captain Copplestone when
+the gout held him prisoner, a self-propelling chair, in which the
+captain could make his way where he pleased.
+
+The captain knocked at his old comrade's door.
+
+"Let me in, Oswald" he said; "I want to see you immediately."
+
+"Not this morning, my dear Copplestone; I can't see any one this
+morning," answered the baronet.
+
+"You can see _me_, Oswald. I must and will see you, and I shall stop
+here till you let me in."
+
+A loud knock at the door with a heavy-headed cane accompanied the close
+of his speech.
+
+Sir Oswald opened the door, and admitted the captain, who pushed his
+chair dexterously through the doorway.
+
+"Well," said this eccentric visitor, when Sir Oswald had shut the door,
+"so you've not been to bed all night?"
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"By your looks, for one thing: and by the appearance of your bed, which
+I can see through the open door yonder, for another. Pretty goings on,
+these!"
+
+"A heavy sorrow has fallen upon me, Copplestone."
+
+"Your wife has run away--that's what you mean, I suppose?"
+
+"What!" cried Sir Oswald. "It is all known, then?"
+
+"What is all known?"
+
+"That my wife has left me."
+
+"Well, my dear Oswald, there is a rumour of that kind afloat, and I
+have come here in consequence of that rumour. But I don't believe
+there's a word of truth in it."
+
+The baronet turned from his friend with a bitter smile of derision.
+
+"I may strive to hoodwink the world, Copplestone," he said, "but I have
+no wish to deceive you. My wife has left me--there is no doubt of it."
+
+"I don't believe it," cried the captain. "No, Oswald Eversleigh, I
+don't believe it. You know what I am. I'm not quite like the Miller of
+Dee, for I do care for somebody; and that somebody is my oldest friend.
+When I first heard of your marriage, I told you that you were a fool.
+That was plain-spoken enough, if you like. When I saw your wife, I
+told you that had changed my mind, and that I thought your folly an
+excusable one. If ever I saw purity and truth in a woman's face, I saw
+them in the face of Lady Eversleigh; and I will stake my life that she
+is as true as steel."
+
+Sir Oswald clasped his friend's hand, too deeply moved for words. There
+was unspeakable consolation in such friendship as this. For the first
+tame since midnight a ray of hope dawned upon him. He had always
+trusted in his old comrade's judgment. Might he not trust in him
+still?
+
+When Captain Copplestone left him, he went to his dressing-room, and
+made even a more than usually careful toilet, and went to face "the
+world."
+
+In the great dining-room he found all his guests assembled, and he took
+his seat amongst them calmly, though the sight of Honoria's empty place
+cut him to the heart.
+
+Never, perhaps, was a more miserable meal eaten than that breakfast.
+There were long intervals of silence; and what little conversation
+there was appeared forced and artificial.
+
+Perhaps the most self-possessed person--the calmest to all appearance,
+of the whole party--was Sir Oswald Eversleigh, so heroic an effort had
+he made over himself, in order to face the world proudly. He had a few
+words to say to every one; and was particularly courteous to the guests
+near him. He opened his letters with an unshaking hand. But he
+abstained from all allusion to his wife, or the events of the previous
+evening.
+
+He had finished breakfast, and was leaving the room, when his nephew
+approached him--
+
+"Can I speak to you for a few moments alone?" asked Reginald.
+
+"Certainly. I am going to the library to write my letters. You can go
+with me, if you like."
+
+They went together to the library. As Sir Oswald closed the door, and
+turned to face his nephew, he perceived that Reginald was deadly pale.
+
+"What is amiss?" he asked.
+
+"You ask me that, my dear uncle, at a time when you ought to know that
+my sympathy for your sorrow--"
+
+"Reserve your sympathy until it is needed," answered the baronet,
+abruptly. "I dare say you mean well, my dear Reginald; but there are
+some subjects which I will suffer no man to approach."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir. Then, in that case, I can tell you nothing. I
+fancied that it was my duty to bring you any information that reached
+me; but I defer to you entirely. The subject is a most unhappy one, and
+I am glad to be spared the pain involved in speaking of it."
+
+"What do you mean?" said the baronet. "If you have anything to tell
+me--anything that can throw light upon the mystery of my wife's
+flight--speak out, and speak quickly. I am almost mad, Reginald.
+Forgive me, if I spoke harshly just now. You are my nephew, and the
+mask I wear before the world may be dropped in your presence."
+
+"I know nothing personally of Lady Eversleigh's disappearance," said
+Reginald; "but I have good reason to believe that Miss Graham could
+tell you much, if she chose to speak out. She has hinted at being in
+the secret, and I think it only right you should question her."
+
+"I will question her," answered sir Oswald, starting to his feet. "Send
+her to me, Reginald."
+
+Mr. Eversleigh left his uncle, and Miss Graham very speedily appeared--
+looking the very image of unconscious innocence--and quite unable to
+imagine what "dear Sir Oswald" could want with her.
+
+The baronet came to the point very quickly, and before Lydia had time
+for consideration, she had been made to give a full account of the
+scene which she had witnessed on the previous evening between Victor
+Carrington and Honoria.
+
+Of course, Miss Graham told Sir Oswald that she had witnessed this
+strange scene in the most accidental manner. She had happened to be in
+a walk that commanded a view of the fir-grove.
+
+"And you saw my wife agitated, clinging to that man?"
+
+"Lady Eversleigh was terribly agitated."
+
+"And then you saw her take her place in the gig, of her own free will?"
+
+"I did, Sir Oswald."
+
+"Oh, what infamy!" murmured the baronet; "what hideous infamy!"
+
+It was to himself that he spoke rather than to Miss Graham. His eyes
+were fixed on vacancy, and it seemed as if he were scarcely aware of
+the young lady's presence.
+
+Lydia was almost terrified by that blank, awful look. She waited for a
+few moments, and then, finding that Sir Oswald questioned her no
+further, she crept quietly from the room, glad to escape from the
+sorrow-stricken husband. Malicious though she was, she believed that
+this time she had spoken the truth.
+
+"He has reason to repent his romantic choice," she thought as she left
+the library. "Perhaps now he will think that he might have done better
+by choosing a wife from his own set."
+
+The day wore on; Sir Oswald remained alone in the library, seated
+before a table, with his arms folded, his gaze fixed on empty space--a
+picture of despair.
+
+The clock had struck many times; the hot afternoon sun blazed full upon
+the broad Tudor windows, when the door was opened gently, and some one
+came into the room. Sir Oswald looked up angrily, thinking it was one
+of the servants who had intruded on him.
+
+It was his wife who stood before him, dressed in the white robes she
+had worn at the picnic; but wan and haggard, white as the dress she
+wore.
+
+"Oswald," she cried, with outstretched hands, and the look of one who
+did not doubt she would be welcome.
+
+The baronet sprang to his feet, and looked at that pale face with a
+gaze of unspeakable indignation.
+
+"And you dare to come back?" he exclaimed. "False-hearted adventuress--
+actress--hypocrite--you dare to come to me with that lying smile upon
+your face--after your infamy of last night!"
+
+"I am neither adventuress, nor hypocrite, Oswald. Oh, where have your
+love and confidence vanished that you can condemn me unheard? I have
+done no wrong--not by so much as one thought that is not full of love
+for you! I am the helpless victim of the vilest plot that was ever
+concocted for the destruction of a woman's happiness."
+
+A mocking laugh burst from the lips of Sir Oswald.
+
+"Oh," he cried, "so that is your story. You are the victim of a plot,
+are you? You were carried away by ruffians, I suppose? You did not go
+willingly with your paramour? Woman, you stand convicted of your
+treachery by the fullest evidence. You were seen to leave the Wizard's
+Cave! You were seen clinging to Victor Carrington--were seen to go with
+him, _willingly_. And then you come and tell me you are the victim of a
+plot! Oh, Lady Eversleigh, this is too poor a story. I should have
+given you credit for greater powers of invention."
+
+"If I am guilty, why am I here?" asked Honoria.
+
+"Shall I tell you why you are here?" cried Sir Oswald, passionately,
+"Look yonder, madam! look at those wide woodlands, the deer-park, the
+lakes and gardens; this is only one side of Raynham Castle. It was for
+those you returned, Lady Eversleigh, for the love of those--and those
+alone. Influenced by a mad and wicked passion, you fled with your lover
+last night; but no sooner did you remember the wealth you had lost, the
+position you had sacrificed, than you repented your folly. You
+determined to come back. Your doting husband would doubtless open his
+arms to receive you. A few imploring words, a tear or so, and the poor,
+weak dupe would be melted. This is how you argued; but you were wrong.
+I have been foolish. I have abandoned myself to the dream of a dotard;
+but the dream is past. The awakening has been rude, but it has been
+efficacious. I shall never dream again."
+
+"Oswald, will you not listen to my story?"
+
+"No, madam, I will not give you the opportunity of making me a second
+time your dupe. Go--go back to your lover, Victor Carrington. Your
+repentance comes too late. The Raynham heritage will never be yours. Go
+back to your lover; or, if he will not receive you, go back to the
+gutter from which I took you."
+
+"Oswald!"
+
+The cry of reproach went like a dagger to the heart of the baronet. But
+he steeled himself against those imploring tones. He believed that he
+had been wronged--that this woman was as false as she was beautiful.
+
+"Oswald," cried Honoria, "you must and shall hear my story. I demand a
+hearing as a right--a right which you could not withhold from the
+vilest criminal, and which you shall not withhold from me, your
+lawfully wedded and faithful wife. You may disbelieve my story, if you
+please--heaven knows it seems wild and improbable!--but you shall hear
+it. Yes, Oswald, _you shall_!"
+
+She stood before him, drawn to her fullest height, confronting him
+proudly. If this was guilt, it was, indeed, shameless guilt. Unhappily,
+the baronet believed in the evidence of Lydia Graham, rather than in
+the witness of his wife's truth. Why should Lydia have deceived him? he
+asked himself. What possible motive could she have for seeking to
+blight his wife's fair name?
+
+Honoria told her story from first to last; she told the history of her
+night of anguish. She spoke with her eyes fixed on her husband's face,
+in which she could read the indications of his every feeling. As her
+story drew to a close, her own countenance grew rigid with despair, for
+she saw that her words had made no impression on the obdurate heart to
+which she appealed.
+
+"I do not ask you if you believe me," she said, when her story was
+finished. "I can see that you do not. All is over between us, Sir
+Oswald," she added, in a tone of intense sadness--"all is over. You are
+right in what you said just now, cruel though your words were. You did
+take me from the gutter; you accepted me in ignorance of my past
+history; you gave your love and your name to a friendless, nameless
+creature; and now that circumstances conspire to condemn me, can I
+wonder if you, too, condemn--if you refuse to believe my declaration of
+my innocence? I do not wonder. I am only grieved that it should be so.
+I should have been so proud of your love if it could have survived this
+fiery ordeal--so proud! But let that pass. I would not remain an hour
+beneath this roof on sufferance. I am quite ready to go from this house
+to-day, at an hour's warning, never to re-enter it. Raynham Castle is
+no more to me than that desolate tower in which I spent last night--
+without your love. I will leave you without one word of reproach, and
+you shall never hear my name, or see my face again."
+
+She moved towards the door as she spoke. There was a quiet earnestness
+in her manner which might have gone far to convince Oswald Eversleigh
+of her truth; but his mind was too deeply imbued with a belief in her
+falsehood. This dignified calm, this subdued resignation, seemed to him
+only the consummate art of a finished actress.
+
+"She is steeped in falsehood to the very lips," he thought. "Doubtless,
+the little she told me of the history of her childhood was as false as
+all the rest. Heaven only knows what shameful secrets may have been
+hidden in her past life!"
+
+She had crossed the threshold of the door, when some sudden impulse
+moved him to follow her.
+
+"Do not leave Raynham till you have heard further from me, Lady
+Eversleigh," he said. "It will be my task to make all arrangements for
+your future life."
+
+His wife did not answer him. She walked towards the hall, her head
+bent, her eyes fixed on the ground.
+
+"She will not leave the castle until she is obliged to do so," thought
+Sir Oswald, as he returned to the library. "Oh, what a tissue of
+falsehood she tried to palm upon me! And she would have blackened my
+nephew's name, in order to screen her own guilt!"
+
+He rang a bell, and told the servant who answered it to fetch Mr.
+Eversleigh. His nephew appeared five minutes afterwards, still very
+pale and anxious-looking.
+
+"I have sent for you, Reginald," said the baronet, "because I have a
+duty to perform--a very painful duty--but one which I do not care to
+delay. It is now nearly a year and a half since I made a will which
+disinherited you. I had good reason for that step, as you know; but I
+have heard no further talk of your vices or your follies; and, so far
+as I can judge, you have undergone a reformation. It is not for me,
+therefore, to hold sternly to a determination which I had made in a
+moment of extreme anger: and I should perhaps have restored you to your
+old position ere this, had not a new interest absorbed my heart and
+mind. I have had cruel reason to repent my folly. I might feel
+resentment against you, on account of your friend's infamy, but I am
+not weak enough for that. Victor Carrington and I have a terrible
+account to settle, and it shall be settled to the uttermost. I need
+hardly tell you that, if you hold any further communication with him,
+you will for ever forfeit my friendship."
+
+"My dear sir, you surely cannot suppose--"
+
+"Do not interrupt me. I wish to say what I have to say, and to have
+done with this subject for ever. You know I have already told you the
+contents of the will which I made after my marriage. That will left the
+bulk of my fortune to my wife. That will must now be destroyed; and in
+the document which I shall substitute for it, your name will occupy its
+old place. Heaven grant that I do wisely, Reginald, and that you will
+prove yourself worthy of my confidence."
+
+"My dear uncle, your goodness overpowers me. I cannot find words to
+express my gratitude."
+
+"No thanks, Reginald. Remember that the change which restores you to
+your old position is brought about by my misery. Say no more. Better
+that an Eversleigh should be master of Raynham when I am dead and gone.
+And now leave me."
+
+The young man retired. His face betrayed conflicting emotions. Lost to
+all sense of honour though he was, the iniquity of the scheme by which
+he had succeeded weighed horribly upon his mind, and he was seized with
+a wild fear of the man through whose agency it had been brought about.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+                       "THE WILL! THE TESTAMENT!"
+
+The brief pang of fear and remorse passed quickly away, and Reginald
+went out upon the terrace to look upon those woods which were once more
+his promised heritage; on which he could gaze, as of old, with the
+proud sense of possession. While looking over that fair domain, he
+forgot the hateful means by which he had re-established himself as the
+heir of Raynham. He forgot Victor Carrington--everything except his own
+good fortune. His heart throbbed with a sense of triumph.
+
+He left the terrace, crossed the Italian garden, and made his way to
+the light iron gate which opened upon the park. Leaning wearily upon
+this gate, he saw an old man in the costume of a pedlar. A broad,
+slouched hat almost concealed his face, and a long iron-grey beard
+drooped upon his chest. His garments were dusty, as if with many a
+weary mile's wandering on the parched high-roads, and he carried a
+large pack of goods upon his back.
+
+The park was open to the public; and this man had, no doubt, come to
+the garden-gate in the hope of finding some servant who would be
+beguiled into letting him carry his wares to the castle, for the
+inspection of Sir Oswald's numerous household.
+
+"Stand aside, my good fellow, and let me pass," said Reginald, as he
+approached the little gate.
+
+The man did not stir. His arms were folded on the topmost bar of the
+gate, and he did not alter his attitude.
+
+"Let me be the first to congratulate the heir of Raynham on his renewed
+hopes," he said, quietly.
+
+"Carrington!" cried Reginald; and then, after a pause, he asked, "What,
+in heaven's name, is the meaning of this masquerade?"
+
+The surgeon removed his broad-brimmed hat, and wiped his forehead with
+a hand that looked brown, wizen, and wrinkled as the hand of an old
+man. Nothing could have been more perfect than his disguise.
+
+The accustomed pallor of his face was changed to the brown and sunburnt
+hue produced by constant exposure to all kinds of weather. A network of
+wrinkles surrounded the brilliant black eyes, which now shone under
+shaggy eyebrows of iron-grey.
+
+"I should never have recognized you," said Reginald, staring for some
+moments at his friend's face, completely lost in surprise.
+
+"Very likely not," answered the surgeon, coolly; "I don't want people
+to recognize me. A disguise that can by any possibility be penetrated
+is the most fatal mistake. I can disguise my voice as well as my face,
+as you will, perhaps, hear by and by. When talking to a friend there is
+no occasion to take so much trouble."
+
+"But why have you assumed this disguise?"
+
+"Because I want to be on the spot; and you may imagine that, after
+having eloped with the lady of the house, I could not very safely show
+myself here in my own proper person."
+
+"What need had you to return? Your scheme is accomplished, is it not?"
+
+"Well, not quite."
+
+"Is there anything more to be done?"
+
+"Yes, there is something more."
+
+"What is the nature of that something?" asked Reginald.
+
+"Leave that to me," answered the surgeon; "and now you had better pass
+on, young heir of Raynham, and leave the poor old pedlar to smoke his
+pipe, and to watch for some passing maid-servant who will admit him to
+the castle."
+
+Reginald lingered, fascinated in some manner by the presence of his
+friend and counsellor. He wanted to penetrate the mystery hidden in the
+breast of his ally.
+
+"How did you know that your scheme had succeeded?" he asked, presently.
+
+"I read my success in your face as you came towards this gate just now.
+It was the face of an acknowledged heir; and now, perhaps, you will be
+good enough to tell me your news."
+
+Reginald related all that had happened; the use he had made of Lydia
+Graham's malice; the interview with his uncle after Lady Eversleigh's
+return.
+
+"Good!" exclaimed Victor; "good from first to last! Did ever any scheme
+work so smoothly? That was a stroke of genius of yours, Reginald, the
+use you made of Miss Graham's evidence. And so she was watching us, was
+she? Charming creature! how little she knows to what an extent we are
+indebted to her. Well, Reginald, I congratulate you. It is a grand
+thing to be the acknowledged heir of such an estate as this."
+
+He glanced across the broad gardens, blazing with rich masses of vivid
+colour, produced by the artistic arrangement of the flower-beds. He
+looked up to the long range of windows, the terrace, the massive
+towers, the grand old archway, and then he looked back at his friend,
+with a sinister light in his glittering black eyes.
+
+"There is only one drawback," he said.
+
+"And that is--"
+
+"That you may have to wait a very long time for your inheritance. Let
+me see; your uncle is fifty years of age, I think?"
+
+"Yes; he is about fifty." "And he has an iron constitution. He has led
+a temperate, hardy life. Such a man is as likely to live to be eighty
+as I am to see my fortieth birthday. And that would give you thirty
+years' waiting: a long delay--a terrible trial of patience."
+
+"Why do you say these things?" cried Reginald, impatiently. "Do you
+want to make me miserable in the hour of our triumph? Do you mean that
+we have burdened our souls with all this crime and falsehood for
+nothing? You are mad, Victor!"
+
+"No; I am only in a speculative mood. Thirty years!--thirty years would
+be a long time to wait."
+
+"Who says that I shall have to wait thirty years? My uncle may die long
+before that time."
+
+"Ah! to be sure! your uncle may die--suddenly, perhaps--very soon, it
+may be. The shock of his wife's falsehood may kill him--after he has
+made a new will in your favour!"
+
+The two men stood face to face, looking at each other.
+
+"What do you mean?" Reginald asked; "and why do you look at me like
+that?"
+
+"I am only thinking what a lucky fellow you would be if this grief that
+has fallen upon your uncle were to be fatal to his life."
+
+"Don't talk like that, Carrington. I won't think of such a thing. I am
+had enough, I know; but not quite so bad as to wish my uncle dead."
+
+"You would be sorry if he were dead, I suppose? Sorry--with this domain
+your own! with all power and pleasure that wealth can purchase for a
+man! You would be sorry, would you? You wish well to the kind kinsman
+to whom you have been such a devoted nephew! You would prefer to wait
+thirty years for your heritage--if you should live so long!"
+
+"Victor Carrington," cried Reginald, passionately, "you are the fiend
+himself, in disguise! Let me pass. I will not stop to listen to your
+hateful words."
+
+"Wait to hear one question, at any rate. Why do you suppose I made you
+sign that promissory note at a twelvemonth's date?"
+
+"I don't know; but you must know, as well as I do, that the note will
+be waste-paper so long as my uncle lives."
+
+"I do know that, my dear Reginald; but I got you to date the document
+as you did, because I have a kind of presentiment that before that date
+you will be master of Raynham!"
+
+"You mean that my uncle will die within the year?"
+
+"I am subject to presentiments of that kind. I do not think Sir Oswald
+will see the end of the year!"
+
+"Carrington!" exclaimed Reginald. "Your schemes are hateful. I will
+have no further dealings with you."
+
+"Indeed! Then am I to go to Sir Oswald, and tell him the story of last
+night? Am I to tell him that his wife is innocent?"
+
+"No, no; tell him nothing. Let things stand as they are. The promise of
+the estate is mine. I have suffered too much from the loss of my
+position, and I cannot forego my new hopes. But let there be no more
+guilt--no more plotting. We have succeeded. Let us wait patiently for
+the end."
+
+"Yes," answered the surgeon, coolly, "we will wait for the end; and if
+the end should come sooner than our most sanguine hopes have led us to
+expect, we will not quarrel with the handiwork of fate. Now leave me. I
+see a petticoat yonder amongst the trees. It belongs to some housemaid
+from the castle, I dare say; and I must see if my eloquence as a
+wandering merchant cannot win me admission within the walls which I
+dare not approach as Victor Carrington."
+
+Reginald opened the gate with his pass-key, and allowed the surgeon to
+go through into the gardens.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was dusk when Sir Oswald left the library. He had sent a message to
+the chief of his guests, excusing himself from attending the dinner-
+table, on the ground of ill-health. When he knew that all his visitors
+would be assembled in the dining-room, he left the library, for the
+first time since he had entered it after breakfast.
+
+He had brooded long and gloomily over his misery, and had come to a
+determination as to the line of conduct which he should pursue towards
+his wife. He went now to Lady Eversleigh's apartments, in order to
+inform her of his decision; but, to his surprise, he found the rooms
+empty. His wife's maid was sitting at needlework by one of the windows
+of the dressing-room.
+
+"Where is your mistress?" asked Sir Oswald.
+
+"She has gone out, sir. She has left the castle for some little time, I
+think, sir; for she put on the plainest of her travelling dresses, and
+she took a small travelling-bag with her. There is a note, sir, on the
+mantel-piece in the next room. Shall I fetch it?"
+
+"No; I will get it myself. At what time did Lady Eversleigh leave the
+castle?"
+
+"About two hours ago, sir."
+
+"Two hours! In time for the afternoon coach to York," thought Sir
+Oswald. "Go and inquire if your mistress really left the castle at that
+time," he said to the maid.
+
+He went into the boudoir, and took the letter from the mantel-piece. He
+crushed it into his breast-pocket with the seal unbroken--
+
+"Time enough to discover what new falsehood she has tried to palm upon
+me," he thought.
+
+He looked round the empty room--which she was never more to occupy. Her
+books, her music, were scattered on every side. The sound of her rich
+voice seemed still to vibrate through the room. And she was gone--for
+ever! Well, she was a base and guilty creature, and it was better so--
+infinitely better that her polluting presence should no longer
+dishonour those ancient chambers, within which generations of proud and
+pure women had lived and died. But to see the rooms empty, and to know
+that she was gone, gave him nevertheless a pang.
+
+"What will become of her?" thought Sir Oswald. "She will return to her
+lover, of course, and he will console her for the sacrifice she has
+made by her mad folly. Let her prize him while he still lives to
+console her; for she may not have him long. Why do I think of her?--why
+do I trouble myself about her? I have my affairs to arrange--a new will
+to make--before I think of vengeance. And those matters once settled,
+vengeance shall be my only thought. I have done for ever with love!"
+
+Sir Oswald returned to the library. A lamp burned on the table at which
+he was accustomed to write. It was a shaded reading-lamp, which made a
+wide circle of vivid light around the spot where it stood, but left the
+rest of the room in shadow.
+
+The night was oppressively hot--an August rather than a September
+night; and, before beginning his work, Sir Oswald flung open one of the
+broad windows leading out upon the terrace. Then he unlocked a carved
+oak bureau, and took out a packet of papers. He seated himself at the
+table, and began to examine these papers.
+
+Among them was the will which he had executed since his marriage. He
+read this, and then laid it aside. As he did so, a figure approached
+the wide-open window; an eager face, illuminated by glittering eyes,
+peered into the room. It was the face of Victor Carrington, hidden
+beneath the disguise of assumed age, and completely metamorphosed by
+the dark skin and grizzled beard. Had Sir Oswald looked up and seen
+that face, he would not have recognized its owner.
+
+After laying aside the document he had read, Sir Oswald began to write.
+He wrote slowly, meditating upon every word; and after having written
+for about half an hour, he rose and left the room. The surgeon had
+never stirred from his post by the window; and as Sir Oswald closed the
+door behind him, he crept stealthily into the apartment, and to the
+table where the papers lay. His footstep, light always, made no sound
+upon the thick velvet pile. He glanced at the contents of the paper, on
+which the ink was still wet. It was a will, leaving the bulk of Sir
+Oswald's fortune to his nephew, Reginald, unconditionally. Victor
+Carrington did not linger a moment longer than was necessary to
+convince him of this fact. He hurried back to his post by the window:
+nor was he an instant too soon. The door opened before he had fairly
+stepped from the apartment.
+
+Sir Oswald re-entered, followed by two men. One was the butler, the
+other was the valet, Joseph Millard. The will was executed in the
+presence of these men, who affixed their signatures to it as witnesses.
+
+"I have no wish to keep the nature of this will a secret from my
+household," said Sir Oswald. "It restores my nephew, Mr. Reginald
+Eversleigh, to his position as heir to this estate. You will henceforth
+respect him as my successor."
+
+The two men bowed and retired. Sir Oswald walked towards the window:
+and Victor Carrington drew back into the shadow cast by a massive
+abutment of stone-work.
+
+It was not very easy for a man to conceal himself on the terrace in
+that broad moonlight.
+
+Voices sounded presently, near one of the windows; and a group of
+ladies and gentlemen emerged from the drawing-room.
+
+"It is the hottest night we have had this summer," said one of them.
+"The house is really oppressive."
+
+Miss Graham had enchanted her viscount once more, and she and that
+gentleman walked side by side on the terrace.
+
+"They will discover me if they come this way," muttered Victor, as he
+shrank back into the shadow. "I have seen all that I want to see for
+the present, and had better make my escape while I am safe."
+
+He stole quietly along by the front of the castle, lurking always in
+the shadow of the masonry, and descended the terrace steps. From
+thence he went to the court-yard, on which the servants' hall opened;
+and in a few minutes he was comfortably seated in that apartment,
+listening to the gossip of the servants, who could only speak upon the
+one subject of Lady Eversleigh's elopement.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The baronet sat with the newly-made will before him, gazing at the open
+leaves with fixed and dreamy eyes.
+
+Now that the document was signed, a feeling of doubt had taken
+possession of him. He remembered how deliberately he had pondered over
+the step before he had disinherited his nephew; and now that work,
+which had cost him so much pain and thought, had been undone on the
+impulse of a moment.
+
+"Have I done right, I wonder?" he asked himself.
+
+The papers which had been tied in the packet containing the old will
+had been scattered on the table when the baronet unfastened the band
+that secured them. He took one of these documents up in sheer absence
+of mind, and opened it.
+
+It was the letter written by the wretched girl who drowned herself in
+the Seine--the letter of Reginald Eversleigh's victim--the very letter
+on the evidence of which Sir Oswald had decided that his nephew was no
+fitting heir to a great fortune.
+
+The baronet's brow contracted as he read.
+
+"And it is to the man who could abandon a wretched woman to despair and
+death, that I am about to leave wealth and power," he exclaimed. "No;
+the decision which I arrived at in Arlington Street was a just and wise
+decision. I have been mad to-day--maddened by anger and despair; but it
+is not too late to repent my folly. The seducer of Mary Goodwin shall
+never be the master of Raynham Castle."
+
+Sir Oswald folded the sheet of foolscap on which the will was written,
+and held it over the flame of the lamp. He carried it over to the fire-
+place, and threw it blazing on the empty hearth. He watched it
+thoughtfully until the greater part of the paper was consumed by the
+flame, and then went back to his seat.
+
+"My nephews, Lionel and Douglas Dale, shall divide the estate between
+them," he thought. "I will send for my solicitor to-morrow, and make a
+new will."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Victor Carrington sat in the servants' hall at Raynham until past
+eleven o'clock. He had made himself quite at home with the domestics in
+his assumed character. The women were delighted with the showy goods
+which he carried in his pack, and which he sold them at prices far
+below those of the best bargains they had ever made before.
+
+At a few minutes after eleven he rose to bid them good night.
+
+"I suppose I shall find the gates open?" he said.
+
+"Yes; the gates of the court-yard are never locked till half-past
+eleven," answered a sturdy old coachman.
+
+The pedlar took his leave; but he did not go out by the court-yard. He
+went straight to the terrace, along which he crept with stealthy
+footsteps. Many lights twinkled in the upper windows of the terrace
+front, for at this hour the greater number of Sir Oswald's guests had
+retired to their rooms.
+
+The broad window of the library was still open; but a curtain had been
+drawn before it, on one side of which there remained a crevice. Through
+this crevice Victor Carrington could watch the interior of the chamber
+with very little risk of being discovered.
+
+The baronet was still sitting by the writing-table, with the light of
+the library-lamp shining full upon him. An open letter was in his hand.
+It was the letter his wife had left for him. It was not like the letter
+of a guilty woman. It was quiet, subdued; full of sadness and
+resignation, rather than of passionate despair.
+
+"_I know now that I ought never to have married you, Oswald_," wrote
+Lady Eversleigh. "_The sacrifice which you made for my sake was too
+great a one. No happiness could well come of such an unequal bargain.
+You gave me everything, and I could give you so little. The cloud upon
+my past life was black and impenetrable. You took me nameless,
+friendless, unknown; and I can scarcely wonder if, at the first breath
+of suspicion, your faith wavered and your love failed. Farewell,
+dearest and best of men! You never can know how truly I have loved you;
+how I have reverenced your noble nature. In all that has come to pass
+between us since the first hour of our miserable estrangement, nothing
+has grieved me so deeply as to see your generous soul overclouded by
+suspicions and doubts, as unworthy of you as they are needless and
+unfounded. Farewell! I go back to the obscurity from whence you took
+me. You need not fear for my future. The musical education which I owe
+to your generous help will enable me to live; and I have no wish to
+live otherwise than humbly. May heaven bless you_!"
+
+HONORIA.
+
+
+This was all. There were no complaints, no entreaties. The letter
+seemed instinct with the dignity of truth.
+
+"And she has gone forth alone, unprotected. She has gone back to her
+lonely and desolate life," thought the baronet, inclined, for a moment
+at least, to believe in his wife's words.
+
+But in the next instant he remembered the evidence of Lydia Graham--the
+wild and improbable story by which Honoria had tried to account for her
+absence.
+
+"No no," he exclaimed; "it is all treachery from first to last. She is
+hiding herself somewhere near at hand, no doubt to wait the result of
+this artful letter. And when she finds that her artifices are thrown
+away--when she discovers that my heart has been changed to adamant by
+her infamy--she will go back to her lover, if he still lives to shelter
+her."
+
+A hundred conflicting ideas confused Sir Oswald's brain. But one
+thought was paramount--and that was the thought of revenge. He resolved
+to send for his lawyer early the next morning, to make a new will in
+favour of his sister's two sons, and then to start in search of the man
+who had robbed him of his wife's affection. Reginald would, of course,
+be able to assist him in finding Victor Carrington.
+
+While Sir Oswald mused thus, the man of whom he was thinking watched
+him through the narrow space between the curtains.
+
+"Shall it be to-night?" thought Carrington. "It cannot be too soon. He
+might change his mind about his will at any moment; and if it should
+happen to-night, people will say the shock of his wife's flight has
+killed him."
+
+Sir Oswald's folded arms rested on the table; his head sank forward on
+his arms. The passionate emotions of the day, the previous night of
+agony, had at last exhausted him. He fell into a doze--a feverish,
+troubled sleep. Carrington watched him for upwards of a quarter of an
+hour as he slept thus.
+
+"I think he is safe now--and I may venture," murmured Victor, at the
+end of that time.
+
+He crept softly into the room, making a wide circle, and keeping
+himself completely in the shadow, till he was behind the sleeping
+baronet. Then he came towards the lamp-lit table.
+
+Amongst the scattered letters and papers, there stood a claret jug, a
+large carafe of water, and an empty glass. Victor drew close to the
+table, and listened for some moments to the breathing of the sleeper.
+Then he took a small bottle from his pocket, and dropped a few globules
+of some colourless liquid into the empty glass. Having done this, he
+withdrew from the apartment as silently as he had entered it. Twelve
+o'clock struck as he was leaving the terrace.
+
+"So," he muttered, "it is little more than three-quarters of an hour
+since I left the servants' hall. It would not be difficult to prove an
+_alibi_, with the help of a blundering village innkeeper."
+
+He did not attempt to leave the castle by the court-yard, which he knew
+would be locked by this time. He had made himself acquainted with all
+the ins and outs of the place, and had possessed himself of a key
+belonging to one of the garden gates. Through this gate he passed out
+into the park, climbed a low fence, and made his way into Raynham
+village, where the landlord of the "Hen and Chickens" was just closing
+his doors.
+
+"I have been told by the castle servants that you can give me a bed,"
+he said.
+
+The landlord, who was always delighted to oblige his patrons in Sir
+Oswald's servants' hall and stables, declared himself ready to give the
+traveller the best accommodation his house could afford.
+
+"It's late, sir," he said; "but we'll manage to make things comfortable
+for you."
+
+So that night the surgeon slept in the village of Raynham. He, too, was
+worn out by the fatigue of the past twenty-four hours, and he slept
+soundly all through the night, and slept as calmly as a child.
+
+It was eight o'clock next morning when he went down the steep, old-
+fashioned staircase of the inn. He found a strange hubbub and confusion
+below. Awful tidings had just been brought from the castle. Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh had been found seated in his library, DEAD, with the lamp
+still burning near him, in the bright summer morning. One of the grooms
+had come down to the little inn, and was telling his story to all
+comers, when the pedlar came into the open space before the bar.
+
+"It was Millard that found him," the man said. "He was sitting, quite
+calm-like, with his head lying back upon the cushion of his arm-chair.
+There were papers and open letters scattered all about; and they sent
+off immediately for Mr. Dalton, the lawyer, to look to the papers, and
+seal up the locks of drawers and desks, and so on. Mr. Dalton is busy
+at it now. Mr. Eversleigh is awfully shocked, he is. I never saw such a
+white face in all my life as his, when he came out into the hall after
+hearing the news. It's a rare fine thing for him, as you may say; for
+they say Sir Oswald made a new will last night, and left his nephew
+everything; and Mr. Eversleigh has been a regular wild one, and is deep
+in debt. But, for all that, I never saw any one so cut up as he was
+just now."
+
+"Poor Sir Oswald!" cried the bystanders. "Such a noble gentleman as he
+was, too. What did he die of Mr. Kimber?--do you know?"
+
+"The doctor says it must have been heart-disease," answered the groom.
+"A broken heart, I say; that's the only disease Sir Oswald had. It's my
+lady's conduct has killed him. She must have been a regular bad one,
+mustn't she?"
+
+The story of the elopement had been fully discussed on the previous day
+at the "Hen and Chickens," and everywhere else in the village of
+Raynham. The country gossips shook their heads over Lady Eversleigh's
+iniquity, but they said little. This new event was of so appalling a
+nature, that it silenced even the tongue of gossip for a while.
+
+The pedlar took his breakfast in the little parlour behind the bar, and
+listened quietly to all that was said by the villagers and the groom.
+
+"And where is my lady?" asked the innkeeper; "she came back yesterday,
+didn't she?"
+
+"Yes, and went away again yesterday afternoon," returned the groom.
+"She's got enough to answer for, she has."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Terrible indeed was the consternation, which reigned that day at
+Raynham Castle. Already Sir Oswald's guests had been making hasty
+arrangements for their departure; and many visitors had departed even
+before the discovery of that awful event, which came like a thunderclap
+upon all within the castle.
+
+Few men had ever been better liked by his acquaintances than Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh.
+
+His generous nature, his honourable character, had won him every man's
+respect. His great wealth had been spent lavishly for the benefit of
+others. His hand had always been open to the poor and necessitous. He
+had been a kind master, a liberal landlord, an ardent and devoted
+friend. There is little wonder, therefore, if the news of his sudden
+death fell like an overwhelming blow on all assembled within the
+castle, and on many more beyond the castle walls.
+
+The feeling against Honoria Eversleigh was one of unmitigated
+execration. No words could be too bitter for those who spoke of Sir
+Oswald's wife.
+
+It had been thought on the previous evening that she had left the
+castle for ever, banished by the command of her husband. Nothing,
+therefore, could have exceeded the surprise which filled every breast
+when she entered the crowded hall some minutes after the discovery of
+Sir Oswald's death.
+
+Her face was whiter than marble, and its awful whiteness was contrasted
+by the black dress which she wore.
+
+"Is this true?" she cried, in accents of despair. "Is he really dead?"
+
+"Yes, Lady Eversleigh," answered General Desmond, an Indian officer,
+and an old friend of the dead man, "Sir Oswald is dead."
+
+"Let me go to him! I cannot believe it--I cannot--I cannot!" she cried,
+wildly. "Let me go to him!"
+
+Those assembled round the door of the library looked at her with horror
+and aversion. To them this semblance of agony seemed only the
+consummate artifice of an accomplished hypocrite.
+
+"Let me go to him! For pity's sake, let me see him!" she pleaded, with
+clasped hands. "I cannot believe that he is dead."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was standing by the door of the library, pale as
+death--more ghastly of aspect than death itself. He had been leaning
+against the doorway, as if unable to support himself; but, as Honoria
+approached, he aroused himself from a kind of stupor, and stretched out
+his arm to bar her entrance to the death-chamber.
+
+"This is no scene for you, Lady Eversleigh," he said, sternly. "You
+have no right to enter that chamber. You have no right to be beneath
+this roof."
+
+"Who dares to banish me?" she asked, proudly. "And who can deny my
+right?"
+
+"I can do both, as the nearest relative of your dead husband."
+
+"And as the friend of Victor Carrington," answered Honoria, looking
+fixedly at her accuser. "Oh! it is a marvellous plot, Reginald
+Eversleigh, and it wanted but this to complete it. My disgrace was the
+first act in the drama, my husband's death the second. Your friend's
+treachery accomplished one, you have achieved the other. Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh has been murdered!"
+
+A suppressed cry of horror broke simultaneously from every lip. As the
+awful word "murder" was repeated, the doctor, who had been until this
+moment beside the dead man, came to the door, and opened it.
+
+"Who was it spoke of murder?" he asked.
+
+"It was I," answered Honoria. "I say that my husband's death is no
+sudden stroke from the hand of heaven! There is one here who refuses to
+let me see him, lest I should lay my hand upon his corpse and call down
+heaven's vengeance on his assassin!"
+
+"The woman is mad," faltered Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+"Look at the speaker," cried Honoria. "I am not mad, Reginald
+Eversleigh, though, by you and your fellow-plotter, I have been made to
+suffer that which might have turned a stronger brain than mine. I am
+not mad. I say that my husband has been murdered; and I ask all present
+to mark my words. I have no evidence of what I say, except instinct;
+but I know that it does not deceive me. As for you, Reginald
+Eversleigh, I refuse to recognize your rights beneath this roof. As the
+widow of Sir Oswald, I claim the place of mistress in this house, until
+events show whether I have a right to it or not."
+
+These were bold words from one who, in the eyes of all present, was a
+disgraced wife, who had been banished by her husband.
+
+General Desmond was the person who took upon himself to reply. He was
+the oldest and most important guest now remaining at the castle, and he
+was a man who had been much respected by Sir Oswald.
+
+"I certainly do not think that any one here can dispute Lady
+Eversleigh's rights, until Sir Oswald's will has been read, and his
+last wishes made known. Whatever passed between my poor friend and his
+wife yesterday is known to Lady Eversleigh alone. It is for her to
+settle matters with her own conscience; and if she chooses to remain
+beneath this roof, no one here can presume to banish her from it,
+except in obedience to the dictates of the dead."
+
+"The wishes of the dead will soon be known," said Reginald; "and then
+that guilty woman will no longer dare to pollute this house by her
+presence."
+
+"I do not fear, Reginald Eversleigh," answered Honoria, with sublime
+calmness. "Let the worst come. I abide the issue of events. I wait to
+see whether iniquity is to succeed; or whether, at the last moment, the
+hand of Providence will be outstretched to confound the guilty. My
+faith is strong in Providence, Mr. Eversleigh. And now stand aside, if
+you please, and let me look upon the face of my husband."
+
+This time, Reginald Eversleigh did not venture to dispute the widow's
+right to enter the death-chamber. He made way for her to pass him, and
+she went in and knelt by the side of the dead. Mr. Dalton, the lawyer,
+was moving softly about the room, putting seals on all the locks, and
+collecting the papers that had been scattered on the table. The parish
+doctor, who had been summoned hastily, stood near the corpse. A groom
+had been despatched to a large town, twenty miles distant, to summon a
+medical man of some distinction. There were few railroads in those
+days; no electric telegraph to summon a man from one end of the country
+to another. But all the most distinguished doctors who ever lived could
+not have restored Sir Oswald Eversleigh to an hour's life. All that
+medical science could do now, was to discover the mode of the baronet's
+death.
+
+The crowd left the hall by and by, and the interior of the castle grew
+more tranquil. All the remaining guests, with the exception of General
+Desmond, made immediate arrangements for leaving the house of death.
+
+General Desmond declared his intention of remaining until after the
+funeral.
+
+"I may be of some use in watching the interests of my dear friend," he
+said to Reginald Eversleigh. "There is only one person who will feel
+your uncle's death more deeply than I shall, and that is poor old
+Copplestone. He is still in the castle, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, he is confined to his rooms still by the gout."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was by no means pleased by the general's decision.
+He would rather have been alone in the castle. It seemed as if his
+uncle's old friend was inclined to take the place of master in the
+household. The young man's pride revolted against the general's love of
+dictation; and his fears--strange and terrible fears--made the presence
+of the general very painful to him.
+
+Joseph Millard had come to Reginald a little time after the discovery
+of the baronet's death, and had told him the contents of the new will.
+
+"Master told us with his own lips that he had left you heir to the
+estates, sir," said the valet. "There was no need for it to be kept a
+secret, he said; and we signed the will as witnesses--Peterson, the
+butler, and me."
+
+"And you are sure you have made no mistake, Millard. Sir Oswald--my
+poor, poor uncle, said that?"
+
+"He said those very words, Mr. Eversleigh; and I hope, sir, now that
+you are master of Raynham, you won't forget that I was always anxious
+for your interests, and gave you valuable information, sir, when I
+little thought you would ever inherit the estate, sir."
+
+"Yes, yes--you will not find me ungrateful, Millard," answered
+Reginald, impatiently; for in the terrible agitation of his mind, this
+man's talk jarred upon him. "I shall reward you liberally for past
+services, you may depend upon it," he added.
+
+"Thank you very much, sir," murmured the valet, about to retire.
+
+"Stay, Millard," said the young man. "You have been with my uncle
+twenty years. You must know everything about his health. Did you ever
+hear that he suffered from heart-disease?"
+
+"No, sir; he never did suffer from anything of the kind. There never
+was a stronger gentleman than Sir Oswald. In all the years that I have
+known him, I don't recollect his having a day's serious illness. And as
+to his dying of disease of the heart, I can't believe it, Mr.
+Eversleigh."
+
+"But in heart-complaint death is almost always sudden, and the disease
+is generally unsuspected until death reveals it."
+
+"Well, I don't know, sir. Of course the medical gentlemen understand
+such things; but I must say that _I_ don't understand Sir Oswald going
+off sudden like that."
+
+"You'd better keep your opinions to yourself down stairs, Millard. If
+an idea of that kind were to get about in the servants' hall, it might
+do mischief."
+
+"I should be the last to speak, Mr. Eversleigh. You asked me for my
+opinion, and I gave it you, candid. But as to expressing my sentiments
+in the servants' hall, I should as soon think of standing on my head.
+In the first place, I don't take my meals in the servants' hall, but in
+the steward's room; and it's very seldom I hold any communication
+whatever with under-servants. It don't do, Mr. Eversleigh--you may
+think me 'aughty; but it don't do. If upper-servants want to be
+respected by under-servants, they must first respect themselves."
+
+"Well, well, Millard; I know I can rely upon your discretion. You can
+leave me now--my mind is quite unhinged by this dreadful event."
+
+No sooner had the valet departed than Reginald hurried from the castle,
+and walked across the garden to the gate by which he had encountered
+Victor Carrington on the previous day. He had no appointment with
+Victor, and did not even know if he were still in the neighbourhood;
+but he fancied it was just possible the surgeon might be waiting for
+him somewhere without the boundary of the garden.
+
+He was not mistaken. A few minutes after passing through the gateway,
+he saw the figure of the pedlar approaching him under the shade of the
+spreading beeches.
+
+"I am glad you are here," said Reginald; "I fancied I might find you
+somewhere hereabouts."
+
+"And I have been waiting and watching about here for the last two
+hours. I dared not trust a messenger, and could only take my chance of
+seeing you."
+
+"You have heard of--of--"
+
+"I have heard everything, I believe."
+
+"What does it mean, Victor?--what does it all mean?"
+
+"It means that you are a wonderfully lucky fellow; and that, instead of
+waiting thirty years to see your uncle grow a semi-idiotic old dotard,
+you will step at once into one of the finest estates in England."
+
+"You knew, then, that the will was made last night?"
+
+"Well, I guessed as much."
+
+"You have seen Millard?"
+
+"No, I have not seen Millard."
+
+"How could you know of my uncle's will, then? It was only executed last
+night."
+
+"Never mind how I know it, my dear Reginald. I do know it. Let that be
+enough for you."
+
+"It is too terrible," murmured the young man, after a pause; "it is too
+terrible."
+
+"What is too terrible?"
+
+"This sudden death."
+
+"Is it?" cried Victor Carrington, looking full in his companion's face,
+with an expression of supreme scorn. "Would you rather have waited
+thirty years for these estates? Would you rather have waited twenty
+years?--ten years? No, Reginald Eversleigh, you would not. I know you
+better than you know yourself, and I will answer for you in this
+matter. If your uncle's life had lain in your open palm last night, and
+the closing of your hand would have ended it, your hand would have
+closed, Mr. Eversleigh, affectionate nephew though you be. You are a
+hypocrite, Reginald. You palter with your own conscience. Better to be
+like me and have no conscience, than to have one and palter with it as
+you do."
+
+Reginald made no reply to this disdainful speech. His own weakness of
+character placed him entirely in the power of his friend. The two men
+walked on together in silence.
+
+"You do not know all that has occurred since last night at the castle,"
+said Reginald, at last; "Lady Eversleigh has reappeared."
+
+"Lady Eversleigh! I thought she left Raynham yesterday afternoon."
+
+"So it was generally supposed; but this morning she came into the hall,
+and demanded to be admitted to see her dead husband. Nor was this all.
+She publicly declared that he had been murdered, and accused me of the
+crime. This is terrible, Victor."
+
+"It is terrible, and it must be put an end to at once."
+
+"But how is it to be put an end to?" asked Reginald. "If this woman
+repeats her accusations, who is to seal her lips?"
+
+"The tables must be turned upon her. If she again accuses you, you must
+accuse her. If Sir Oswald were indeed murdered, who so likely to have
+committed the murder as this woman--whose hatred and revenge were, no
+doubt, excited by her husband's refusal to receive her back, after her
+disgraceful flight? This is what you have to say; and as every one's
+opinion is against Lady Eversleigh, she will find herself in rather an
+unpleasant position, and will be glad to hold her peace for the future
+upon the subject of Sir Oswald's death."
+
+"You do not doubt my uncle died a natural death, do you, Victor?" asked
+Reginald, with a strange eagerness. "You do not think that he was
+murdered?"
+
+"No, indeed. Why should I think so?" returned the surgeon, with perfect
+calmness of manner. "No one in the castle, but you and Lady Eversleigh,
+had any interest in his life or death. If he came to his end by any
+foul means, she must be the guilty person, and on her the deed must be
+fixed. You must hold firm, Reginald, remember."
+
+The two men parted soon after this; but not before they had appointed
+to meet on the following day, at the same hour, and on the same spot.
+Reginald Eversleigh returned to the castle, gloomy and ill at ease, and
+on entering the house he discovered that the doctor from Plimborough
+had arrived during his absence, and was to remain until the following
+day, when his evidence would be required at the inquest.
+
+It was Joseph Millard who told him this.
+
+"The inquest! What inquest?" asked Reginald.
+
+"The coroner's inquest, sir. It is to be held to-morrow in the great
+dining-room. Sir Oswald died so suddenly, you see, sir, that it's only
+natural there should be an inquest. I'm sorry to say there's a talk
+about his having committed suicide, poor gentleman!"
+
+"Suicide--yes--yes--that is possible; he may have committed suicide,"
+murmured Reginald.
+
+"It's very dreadful, isn't it, sir? The two doctors and Mr. Dalton, the
+lawyer, are together in the library. The body has been moved into the
+state bed-room."
+
+The lawyer emerged from the library at this moment, and approached
+Reginald.
+
+"Can I speak with you for a few minutes, Mr. Eversleigh?" he asked.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+He went into the library, where he found the two doctors, and another
+person, whom he had not expected to see.
+
+This was a country gentleman--a wealthy landed squire and magistrate--
+whom Reginald Eversleigh had known from his boyhood. His name was
+Gilbert Ashburne; and he was an individual of considerable importance
+in the neighbourhood of Raynham, near which village he had a fine
+estate.
+
+Mr. Ashburne was standing with his back to the empty fireplace, in
+conversation with one of the medical men, when Reginald entered the
+room. He advanced a few paces, to shake hands with the young man, and
+then resumed his favourite magisterial attitude, leaning against the
+chimney-piece, with his hands in his trousers' pockets.
+
+"My dear Eversleigh," he said, "this is a very terrible affair--very
+terrible!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Ashburne, my uncle's sudden death is indeed terrible."
+
+"But the manner of his death! It is not the suddenness only, but the
+nature--"
+
+"You forget, Mr. Ashburne," interposed one of the medical men, "Mr.
+Eversleigh knows nothing of the facts which I have stated to you."
+
+"Ah, he does not! I was not aware of that. You have no suspicion of any
+foul play in this sad business, eh, Mr. Eversleigh?" asked the
+magistrate.
+
+"No," answered Reginald. "There is only one person I could possibly
+suspect; and that person has herself given utterance to suspicions that
+sound like the ravings of madness."
+
+"You mean Lady Eversleigh?" said the Raynham doctor.
+
+"Pardon me," said Mr. Ashburne; "but this business is altogether so
+painful that it obliges me to touch upon painful subjects. Is there any
+truth in the report which I have heard of Lady Eversleigh's flight on
+the evening of some rustic gathering?"
+
+"Unhappily, the report has only too good a foundation. My uncle's wife
+did take flight with a lover on the night before last; but she returned
+yesterday, and had an interview with her husband. What took place at
+that interview I cannot tell you; but I imagine that my uncle forbade
+her to remain beneath his roof. Immediately after she had left him, he
+sent for me, and announced his determination to reinstate me in my old
+position as his heir. He would not, I am sure, have done this, had he
+believed his wife innocent."
+
+"And she left the castle at his bidding?"
+
+"It was supposed that she left the castle; but this morning she
+reappeared, and claimed the right to remain beneath this roof."
+
+"And where had she passed the night?"
+
+"Not in her own apartments. Of that I have been informed by her maid,
+who believed that she had left Raynham for good."
+
+"Strange!" exclaimed the magistrate. "If she is guilty, why does she
+remain here, where her guilt is known--where she maybe suspected of a
+crime, and the most terrible of crimes?"
+
+"Of what crime?"
+
+"Of murder, Mr. Eversleigh. I regret to tell you that these two medical
+gentlemen concur in the opinion that your uncle's death was caused by
+poison. A _post-mortem_ examination will be made to-night."
+
+"Upon what evidence?"
+
+"On the evidence of an empty glass, which is under lock and key in
+yonder cabinet," answered the doctor from Plimborough; "and at the
+bottom of which I found traces of one of the most powerful poisons
+known to those who are skilled in the science of toxicology: and on the
+further evidence of diagnostics which I need not explain--the evidence
+of the dead man's appearance, Mr. Eversleigh. That your uncle died from
+the effects of poison, there cannot be the smallest doubt. The next
+question to be considered is, whether that poison was administered by
+his own hand, or the hand of an assassin."
+
+"He may have committed suicide," said Reginald, with some hesitation.
+
+"It is just possible," answered Gilbert Ashburne; "though from my
+knowledge of your uncle's character, I should imagine it most unlikely.
+At any rate, his papers will reveal the state of his mind immediately
+before his death. It is my suggestion, therefore, that his papers
+should be examined immediately by you, as his nearest relative and
+acknowledged heir--by me, as magistrate of the district, and in the
+presence of Mr. Dalton, who was your uncle's confidential solicitor.
+Have you any objection to offer to this course, Mr. Eversleigh, or Sir
+Reginald, as I suppose I ought now to call you?" It was the first time
+Reginald Eversleigh had heard himself addressed by the title which was
+now his own--that title which, borne by the possessor of a great
+fortune, bestows so much dignity; but which, when held by a poor man,
+is so hollow a mockery. In spite of his fears--in spite of that sense
+of remorse which had come upon him since his uncle's death--the sound
+of the title was pleasant to his ears, and he stood for the moment
+silent, overpowered by the selfish rapture of gratified pride.
+
+The magistrate repeated his question.
+
+"Have you any objection to offer, Sir Reginald?"
+
+"None whatever, Mr. Ashburne."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was only too glad to accede to the magistrate's
+proposition. He was feverishly anxious to see the will which was to
+make him master of Raynham. He knew that such a will had been duly
+executed. He had no reason to fear that it had been destroyed; but
+still he wanted to see it--to hold it in his hands, to have
+incontestable proof of its existence.
+
+The examination of the papers was serious work. The lawyer suggested
+that the first to be scrutinized should be those that he had found on
+the table at which Sir Oswald had been writing.
+
+The first of these papers which came into the magistrate's hand was
+Mary Goodwin's letter. Reginald Eversleigh recognized the familiar
+handwriting, the faded ink, and crumpled paper. He stretched out his
+hand at the moment Gilbert Ashburne was about to examine the document.
+
+"That is a letter," he said, "a strictly private letter, which I
+recognize. It is addressed to me, as you will see; and posted in Paris
+nearly two years ago. I must beg you not to read it."
+
+"Very well, Sir Reginald, I will take your word for it. The letter has
+nothing to do with the subject of our present inquiry. Certainly, a
+letter, posted in Paris two years ago, can scarcely have any connection
+with the state of your uncle's mind last night."
+
+The magistrate little thought how very important an influence that
+crumpled sheet of paper had exercised upon the events of the previous
+night.
+
+Gilbert Ashburne and the lawyer examined the rest of the packet. There
+were no papers of importance; nothing throwing any light upon late
+events, except Lady Eversleigh's letter, and the will made by the
+baronet immediately after his marriage.
+
+"There is another and a later will," said Reginald, eagerly; "a will
+made last night, and witnessed by Millard and Peterson. This earlier
+will ought to have been destroyed."
+
+"It is not of the least consequence, Sir Reginald," replied the
+solicitor. "The will of latest date is the true one, if there should be
+a dozen in existence."
+
+"We had better search for the will made last night," said Reginald,
+anxiously.
+
+The magistrate and the lawyer complied. They perceived the anxiety of
+the expectant heir, and gave way to it. The search occupied a long
+time, but no second will was found; the only will that could be
+discovered was that made within a week of the baronet's marriage.
+
+"The will attested last night must be in this room," exclaimed
+Reginald. "I will send for Millard; and you shall hear from his lips an
+exact account of what occurred."
+
+The young man tried in vain to conceal the feeling of alarm which had
+taken possession of him. What would be his position if this will should
+not be found? A beggar, steeped in crime.
+
+He rang the bell and sent for the valet. Joseph Millard came, and
+repeated his account of the previous night's transaction. It was clear
+that the will had been made. It was equally clear that if it were still
+in existence, it must be found in that room, for the valet declared
+that his master had not left the library after the execution of the
+document.
+
+"I was on the watch and on the listen all night, you see, gentlemen,"
+said Joseph Millard; "for I was very uneasy about master, knowing what
+trouble had come upon him, and how he'd never been to bed all the night
+before. I thought he might call me at any minute, so I kept close at
+hand. There's a little room next to this, and I sat in there with the
+door open, and though I dropped off into a doze now and then, I never
+was sound enough asleep not to have heard this door open, if it did
+open. But I'll take my Bible oath that Sir Oswald never left this room
+after me and Peterson witnessed the will."
+
+"Then the will must be somewhere in the room, and it will be our
+business to find it," answered Mr. Ashburne. "That will do, Millard;
+you can go."
+
+The valet retired.
+
+Reginald recommenced the search for the will, assisted by the
+magistrate and the lawyer, while the two doctors stood by the fire-
+place, talking together in suppressed tones.
+
+This time the search left no crevice unexamined. But all was done
+without avail; and despair began to gain upon Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+What if all the crime, the falsehood, the infamy of the past few days
+had been committed for no result?
+
+He was turning over the papers in the bureau for the third or fourth
+time, with trembling hands, in the desperate hope that somehow or other
+the missing will might have escaped former investigations, when he was
+arrested by a sudden exclamation from Mr. Missenden, the Plimborough
+surgeon.
+
+"I don't think you need look any farther, Sir Reginald," said this
+gentleman.
+
+"What do you mean?" cried Reginald, eagerly.
+
+"I believe the will is found."
+
+"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the young man.
+
+"You mistake, Sir Reginald," said Mr. Missenden, who was kneeling by
+the fire-place, looking intently at some object in the polished steel
+fender; "if I am right, and that this really is the document in
+question, I fear it will be of very little use to you."
+
+"It has been destroyed!" gasped Reginald.
+
+"I fear so. This looks to me like the fragment of a will."
+
+He handed Reginald a scrap of paper, which he had found amongst a heap
+of grey ashes. It was scorched to a deep yellow colour, and burnt at
+the edges; but the few words written upon it were perfectly legible,
+nevertheless.
+
+These words were the following:--
+
+"--_Nephew, Reginald Eversleigh--Raynham Castle estate--all lands and
+tenements appertaining--sole use and benefit_--"
+
+This was all. Reginald gazed at the scrap of scorched paper with wild,
+dilated eyes. All hope was gone; there could be little doubt that this
+morsel of paper was all that remained of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's latest
+will.
+
+And the will made previously bequeathed Raynham to the testator's
+window, a handsome fortune to each of the two Dales, and a pittance of
+five hundred a-year to Reginald.
+
+The young man sank into a chair, stricken down by this overwhelming
+blow. His white face was the very picture of despair.
+
+"My uncle never destroyed this document," he exclaimed; "I will not
+believe it. Some treacherous hand has been thrust between me and my
+rights. Why should Sir Oswald have made a will in one hour and
+destroyed it in the next? What could have influenced him to alter his
+mind?"
+
+As he uttered these words, Reginald Eversleigh remembered that fatal
+letter of Mary Goodwin, which had been found lying uppermost amongst
+the late baronet's papers. That letter had caused Sir Oswald to
+disinherit his nephew once. Was it possible that the same letter had
+influenced him a second time?
+
+But the disappointed man did not suffer himself to dwell long on this
+subject. He thought of his uncle's widow, and the triumph that she had
+won over the schemers who had plotted so basely to achieve her
+destruction. A savage fury filled his soul as he thought of Honoria.
+
+"This will has been destroyed by the one person most interested in its
+destruction," he cried. "Who can doubt now that my uncle was poisoned,
+and the will destroyed by the same person?--and who can doubt that
+person to be Lady Eversleigh?"
+
+"My dear sir," exclaimed Mr. Ashburne, "this really will not do. I
+cannot listen to such accusations, unsupported by any evidence."
+
+"What evidence do you need, except the evidence of truth?" cried
+Reginald, passionately. "Who else was interested in the destruction of
+that paper?--who else was likely to desire my uncle's death? Who but
+his false and guilty wife? She had been banished from beneath this
+roof; she was supposed to have left the castle; but instead of going
+away, she remained in hiding, waiting her chances. If there has been a
+murder committed, who can doubt that she is the murderess? Who can
+question that it was she who burnt the will which robbed her of wealth
+and station, and branded her with disgrace?"
+
+"You are too impetuous, Sir Reginald," returned the magistrate. "I will
+own there are grounds for suspicion in the circumstances of which you
+speak; but in such a terrible affair as this there must be no jumping
+at conclusions. However, the death of your uncle by poison immediately
+after the renunciation of his wife, and the burning of the will which
+transferred the estates from her to you, are, when considered in
+conjunction, so very mysterious--not to say suspicious--that I shall
+consider myself justified in issuing a warrant for the detention of
+Lady Eversleigh, upon suspicion of being concerned in the death of her
+husband. I shall hold an inquiry here to-morrow, immediately after the
+coroner's inquest, and shall endeavour to sift matters most thoroughly.
+If Lady Eversleigh is innocent, her temporary arrest can do her no
+harm. She will not be called upon to leave her own apartments; and very
+few outside the castle, or, indeed, within it, need be aware of her
+arrest. I think I will wait upon her myself, and explain the painful
+necessity."
+
+"Yes, and be duped by her plausible tongue," cried Reginald bitterly."
+She completely bewitched my poor uncle. Do you know that he picked her
+up out of the gutter, and knew no more of her past life than he knew of
+the inhabitants of the other planets? If you see her, she will fool you
+as she fooled him."
+
+"I am not afraid of her witcheries," answered the magistrate, with
+dignity. "I shall do my duty, Sir Reginald, you may depend upon it."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh said no more. He left the library without uttering
+a word to any of the gentlemen. The despair which had seized upon him
+was too terrible for words. Alone, locked in his own room, he gnashed
+his teeth in agony.
+
+"Fools! dolts! idiots that we have been, with all our deeply-laid plots
+and subtle scheming," he cried, as he paced up and down the room in a
+paroxysm of mad rage, "She triumphs in spite of us--she can laugh us to
+scorn! And Victor Carrington, the man whose intellect was to conquer
+impossibilities, what a shallow fool he has shown himself, after all! I
+thought there was something superhuman in his success, so strangely did
+fate seem to favour his scheming; and now, at the last--when the cup
+was at my lips--it is snatched away, and dashed to the ground!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+                            A FRIEND IN NEED.
+
+While the new baronet abandoned himself to the anguish of disappointed
+avarice and ambition, Honoria sat quietly in her own apartments,
+brooding very sadly over her husband's death.
+
+She had loved him honestly and truly. No younger lover had ever won
+possession of her heart. Her life, before her meeting with Sir Oswald,
+had been too miserable for the indulgence of the romantic dreams or
+poetic fancies of girlhood. The youthful feelings of this woman, who
+called herself Honoria, had been withered by the blasting influence of
+crime. It was only when gratitude for Sir Oswald's goodness melted the
+ice of that proud nature--it was then only that Honoria's womanly
+tenderness awoke--it was then only that affection--a deep-felt and pure
+affection--for the first time occupied her heart.
+
+That affection was all the more intense in its nature because it was
+the first love of a noble heart. Honoria had reverenced in her husband
+all that she had ever known of manly virtue.
+
+And he was lost to her! He had died believing her false.
+
+"I could have borne anything but that," she thought, in her desolation.
+
+The magistrate came to her, and explained the painful necessity under
+which he found himself placed. But he did not tell her of the
+destruction of the will, nor yet that the medical men had pronounced
+decisively as to Sir Oswald's death. He only told her that there were
+suspicious circumstances connected with that death; and that it was
+considered necessary there should he a careful investigation of those
+circumstances.
+
+"The investigation cannot be too complete," replied Honoria, eagerly.
+"I know that there has been foul play, and that the best and noblest of
+men has fallen a victim to the hand of an assassin. Oh, sir, if you are
+able to distinguish truth from falsehood, I implore you to listen to
+the story which my poor husband refused to believe--the story of the
+basest treachery that was ever plotted against a helpless woman!"
+
+Mr. Ashburne declared himself willing to hear any statement Lady
+Eversleigh might wish to make; but he warned her that it was just
+possible that statement might be used against her hereafter.
+
+Honoria told him the circumstances which she had related to Sir Oswald;
+the false alarm about her husband, the drive to Yarborough Tower, and
+the night of agony spent within the ruins; but, to her horror, she
+perceived that this man also disbelieved her. The story seemed wild and
+improbable, and people had already condemned her. They were prepared to
+hear a fabrication from her lips; and the truth which she had to tell
+seemed the most clumsy and shallow of inventions.
+
+Gilbert Ashburne did not tell her that he doubted her; but, polite as
+his words were, she could read the indications of distrust in his face.
+She could see that he thought worse of her after having heard the
+statement which was her sole justification.
+
+"And where is this Mr. Carrington now to be found?" he asked,
+presently. "I do not know. Having accomplished his base plot, and
+caused his friend's restoration to the estates, I suppose he has taken
+care to go far away from the scene of his infamy."
+
+The magistrate looked searchingly at her face. Was this acting, or was
+she ignorant of the destruction of the will? Did she, indeed, believe
+that the estates were lost to herself?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before the hour at which the coroner's inquest was to be held in the
+great dining-room, Reginald Eversleigh and Victor Carrington met at the
+appointed spot in the avenue of firs.
+
+One glance at his friend's face informed Victor that some fatal event
+had occurred since the previous day. Reginald told him, in brief,
+passionate words, of the destruction of the will.
+
+"You are a clever schemer, no doubt, Mr. Carrington," he added,
+bitterly; "but clever as you are, you have been outwitted as completely
+as the veriest fool that ever blundered into ruin. Do you understand,
+Carrington--we are not richer by one halfpenny for all your scheming?"
+
+Carrington was silent for awhile; but when, after a considerable pause,
+he at length spoke, his voice betrayed a despair as intense in its
+quiet depth as the louder passion of his companion.
+
+"I cannot believe it," he exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper. "I tell you,
+man, you must, have made some senseless mistake. The will cannot have
+been destroyed."
+
+"I had the fragments in my hand," answered Reginald. "I saw my name
+written on the worthless scrap of burnt paper. All that was left
+besides that wretched fragment were the ashes in the grate."
+
+"I saw the will executed--I saw it--within a few hours of Sir Oswald's
+death."
+
+"You saw it done?"
+
+"Yes, I was outside the window of the library."
+
+"And you--! oh, it is too horrible," cried Reginald.
+
+"What is too horrible?"
+
+"The deed that was done that night."
+
+"That deed is no business of ours," answered Victor; "the person who
+destroyed the will was your uncle's assassin, if he died by the hand of
+an assassin."
+
+"Do you really believe that, Carrington; or are you only fooling me?"
+
+"What else should I believe?"
+
+The two men parted. Reginald Eversleigh knew that his presence would be
+required at the coroner's inquest. The surgeon did not attempt to
+detain him.
+
+For the time, at least, this arch-plotter found himself suddenly
+brought to a stand-still.
+
+The inquest commenced almost immediately after Reginald's return to the
+castle.
+
+The first witness examined was the valet, who had been the person to
+discover the death; the next were the two medical men, whose evidence
+was of a most important nature.
+
+It was a closed court, and no one was admitted who was not required to
+give evidence. Lady Eversleigh sat at the opposite end of the table to
+that occupied by the coroner. She had declined to avail herself of the
+services of any legal adviser. She had declared her determination to
+trust in her own innocence, and in that alone. Proud, calm, and self-
+possessed, she confronted the solemn assembly, and did not shrink from
+the scrutinizing looks that met her eyes in every direction.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh contemplated her with a feeling of murderous
+hatred, as he took his place at some little distance from her seat.
+
+The evidence of Mr. Missenden was to the effect that Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh had died from the effects of a subtle and little-known
+poison. He had discovered traces of this poison in the empty glass
+which had been found upon the table beside the dead man, and he had
+discovered further traces of the same poison in the stomach of the
+deceased.
+
+After the medical witnesses had both been examined, Peterson, the
+butler, was sworn. He related the facts connected with the execution of
+the will, and further stated that it was he who had carried the carafe
+of water, claret-jug, and the empty glass to Sir Oswald.
+
+"Did you fetch the water yourself?" asked the coroner.
+
+"Yes, your worship--Sir Oswald was very particular about the water
+being iced--I took it from a filter in my own charge."
+
+"And the glass?"
+
+"I took the glass from my own pantry."
+
+"Are you sure that there was nothing in the glass when you took the
+salver to you master?"
+
+"Quite sure, sir. I'm very particular about having all my glass bright
+and clear--it's the under butler's duty to see to that, and it's my
+duty to keep him up to his work. I should have seen in a moment if the
+glass had been dull and smudgy at the bottom."
+
+The water remaining in the carafe had been examined by the medical
+witnesses, and had been declared by them to be perfectly pure. The
+claret had been untouched. The poison could, therefore, have only been
+introduced to the baronet's room in the glass; and the butler protested
+that no one but himself and his assistant had access to the place in
+which the glass had been kept.
+
+How, then, could the baronet have been poisoned, except by his own
+hand?
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was one of the last witnesses examined. He told of
+the interview between himself and his uncle, on the day preceding Sir
+Oswald's death. He told of Lydia Graham's revelations--he told
+everything calculated to bring disgrace upon the woman who sat, pale
+and silent, confronting her fate.
+
+She seemed unmoved by these scandalous revelations. She had passed
+through such bitter agony within the last few days and nights, that it
+seemed to her as if nothing could have power to move her more.
+
+She had endured the shame of her husband's distrust. The man she loved
+so dearly had cast her from him with disdain and aversion. What new
+agony could await her equal to that through which she had passed.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh's hatred and rage betrayed him into passing the
+limits of prudence. He told the story of the destroyed will, and boldly
+accused Lady Eversleigh of having destroyed it.
+
+"You forget yourself, Sir Reginald," said the coroner; "you are here as
+a witness, and not as an accuser."
+
+"But am I to keep silence, when I know that yonder woman is guilty of a
+crime by which I am robbed of my heritage?" cried the young man,
+passionately. "Who but she was interested in the destruction of that
+will? Who had so strong a motive for wishing my uncle's death? Why was
+she hiding in the castle after her pretended departure, except for some
+guilty purpose? She left her own apartments before dusk, after writing
+a farewell letter to her husband. Where was she, and what was she
+doing, after leaving those apartments?"
+
+"Let me answer those questions, Sir Reginald Eversleigh," said a voice
+from the doorway.
+
+The young baronet turned and recognized the speaker. It was his uncle's
+old friend, Captain Copplestone, who had made his way into the room
+unheard while Reginald had been giving his evidence. He was still
+seated in his invalid-chair--still unable to move without its aid.
+
+"Let me answer those questions," he repeated. "I have only just heard
+of Lady Eversleigh's painful position. I beg to be sworn immediately,
+for my evidence may be of some importance to that lady."
+
+Reginald sat down, unable to contest the captain's right to be heard,
+though he would fain have done so.
+
+Lady Eversleigh for the first time that day gave evidence of some
+slight emotion. She raised her eyes to Captain Copplestone's bronzed
+face with a tearful glance, expressive of gratitude and confidence.
+
+The captain was duly sworn, and then proceeded to give his evidence, in
+brief, abrupt sentences, without waiting to be questioned.
+
+"You ask where Lady Eversleigh spent the night of her husband's death,
+and how she spent it. I can answer both those questions. She spent that
+night in my room, nursing a sick old man, who was mad with the tortures
+of rheumatic gout, and weeping over Sir Oswald's refusal to believe in
+her innocence.
+
+"You'll ask, perhaps, how she came to be in my apartments on that
+night. I'll answer you in a few words. Before leaving the castle she
+came to my room, and asked my old servant to admit her. She had been
+very kind and attentive to me throughout my illness. My servant is a
+gruff and tough old fellow, but he is grateful for any kindness that's
+shown to his master. He admitted Lady Eversleigh to see me, ill as I
+was. She told me the whole story which she told her husband. 'He
+refused to believe me, Captain Copplestone,' she said; 'he who once
+loved me so dearly refused to believe me. So I come to you, his best
+and oldest friend, in the hope that you may think better of me; and
+that some day, when I am far away, and time has softened my husband's
+heart towards me, you may speak a good word in my behalf.' And I did
+believe her. Yes, Mr. Eversleigh--or Sir Reginald Eversleigh--I did,
+and I do, believe that lady."
+
+"Captain Copplestone," said the coroner; "we really do not require all
+these particulars; the question is--when did Lady Eversleigh enter your
+rooms, and when did she quit them?"
+
+"She came to me at dusk, and she did not leave my rooms until the next
+morning, after the discovery of my poor friend's death. When she had
+told me her story, and her intention of leaving the castle immediately,
+I begged her to remain until the next day. She would be safe in my
+rooms, I told her. No one but myself and my old servant would know that
+she had not really left the castle; and the next day, when Sir Oswald's
+passion had been calmed by reflection, I should be able, perhaps, to
+intercede successfully for the wife whose innocence I most implicitly
+believed, in spite of all the circumstances that had conspired to
+condemn her. Lady Eversleigh knew my influence over her husband; and,
+after some persuasion, consented to take my advice. My diabolical gout
+happened to be a good deal worse than usual that night, and my friend's
+wife assisted my servant to nurse me, with the patience of an angel, or
+a sister of charity. From the beginning to the end of that fatal night
+she never left my apartments. She entered my room before the will could
+have been executed, and she did not leave it until after her husband's
+death."
+
+"Your evidence is conclusive, Captain Copplestone, and it exonerates
+her ladyship from all suspicion," said the coroner.
+
+"My evidence can be confirmed in every particular by my old servant,
+Solomon Grundy," said the captain, "if it requires confirmation."
+
+"It requires none, Captain Copplestone."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh gnawed his bearded lip savagely. This man's
+evidence proved that Lady Eversleigh had not destroyed the will. Sir
+Oswald himself, therefore, must have burned the precious document. And
+for what reason?
+
+A horrible conviction now took possession of the young baronet's mind.
+He believed that Mary Goodwin's letter had been for the second time
+instrumental in the destruction of his prospects. A fatal accident had
+thrown it in his uncle's way after the execution of the will, and the
+sight of that letter had recalled to Sir Oswald the stern resolution at
+which he had arrived in Arlington Street.
+
+Utter ruin stared Reginald Eversleigh in the face. The possessor of an
+empty title, and of an income which, to a man of his expensive habits,
+was the merest pittance, he saw before him a life of unmitigated
+wretchedness. But he did not execrate his own sins and vices for the
+misery which they had brought upon him. He cursed the failure of Victor
+Carrington's schemes, and thought of himself as the victim of Victor
+Carrington's blundering.
+
+The verdict of the coroner's jury was an open one, to the effect that
+"Sir Oswald Eversleigh died by poison, but by whom administered there
+was no evidence to show."
+
+The general opinion of those who had listened to the evidence was that
+the baronet had committed suicide. Public opinion around and about
+Raynham was terribly against his widow. Sir Oswald had been universally
+esteemed and respected, and his melancholy end was looked on as her
+work. She had been acquitted of any positive hand is his death; but she
+was not acquitted of the guilt of having broken his heart by her
+falsehood.
+
+Her obscure origin, her utter friendlessness, influenced people against
+her. What must be the past life of this woman, who, in the hour of her
+widowhood, had not one friend to come forward to support and protect
+her?
+
+The world always chooses to see the darker side of the picture. Nobody
+for a moment imagined that Honoria Eversleigh might possibly be the
+innocent victim of the villany of others.
+
+The funeral of Sir Oswald Eversleigh was conducted with all the pomp
+and splendour befitting the burial of a man whose race had held the
+land for centuries, with untarnished fame and honour. The day of the
+funeral was dark, cold, and gloomy; stormy winds howled and shrieked
+among the oaks and beeches of Raynham Park. The tall firs in the avenue
+were tossed to and fro in the blast, like the funereal plumes of that
+stately hearse which was to issue at noon from the quadrangle of the
+castle.
+
+It was difficult to believe that less than a fortnight had elapsed
+since that bright and balmy day on which the picnic had been held at
+the Wizard's Cave.
+
+Lady Eversleigh had declared her intention of following her husband to
+his last resting-place. She had been told that it was unusual for women
+of the higher classes to take part in a funeral _cortege_; but she had
+stedfastly adhered to her resolution.
+
+"You tell me it is not the fashion!" she said to Mr. Ashburne. "I do
+not care for fashion, I would offer the last mark of respect and
+affection to the husband who was my dearest and truest friend upon this
+earth, and without whom the earth is very desolate for me. If the dead
+pass at once into those heavenly regions were Divine Wisdom reigns
+supreme over all mortal weakness, the emancipated spirit of him who
+goes to his tomb this day knows that my love, my faith, never faltered.
+If I had wronged him as the world believes, Mr. Ashburne, I must,
+indeed, be the most hardened of wretches to insult the dead by my
+presence. Accept my determination as a proof of my innocence, if you
+can."
+
+"The question of your guilt or innocence is a dark enigma which I
+cannot take upon myself to solve, Lady Eversleigh," answered Gilbert
+Ashburne, gravely. "It would be an unspeakable relief to my mind if I
+could think you innocent. Unhappily, circumstances combine to condemn
+you in such a manner that even Christian charity can scarcely admit the
+possibility of your innocence."
+
+"Yes," murmured the widow, sadly, "I am the victim of a plot so
+skilfully devised, so subtly woven, that I can scarcely wonder if the
+world refuses to believe me guiltless. And yet you see that honourable
+soldier, that brave and true-hearted gentleman, Captain Copplestone,
+does not think me the wretch I seem to be.
+
+"Captain Copplestone is a man who allows himself to be guided by his
+instincts and impulses, and who takes a pride in differing from his
+fellow-men. I am a man of the world, and I am unable to form any
+judgment which is not justified by facts. If facts combine to condemn
+you, Lady Eversleigh, you must not think me harsh or cruel if I cannot
+bring myself to acquit you."
+
+During the preceding conversation Honoria Eversleigh had revealed the
+most gentle, the most womanly side of her character. There had been a
+pleading tone in her voice, an appealing softness in her glances. But
+now the expression of her face changed all at once; the beautiful
+countenance grew cold and stern, the haughty lip quivered with the
+agony of offended pride.
+
+"Enough!" she said. "I will never again trouble you, Mr. Ashburne, by
+entreating your merciful consideration. Let your judgment be the
+judgment of the world. I am content to await the hour of my
+justification; I am content to trust in Time, the avenger of all
+wrongs, and the consoler of all sorrows. In the meanwhile, I will stand
+alone--a woman without a friend, a woman who has to fight her own
+battles with the world."
+
+Gilbert Ashburne could not withhold his respect from the woman who
+stood before him, queen-like in her calm dignity.
+
+"She may be the basest and vilest of her sex," he thought to himself,
+as he left her presence; "but she is a woman whom it is impossible to
+despise."
+
+The funeral procession was to leave Raynham at noon. At eleven o'clock
+the arrival of Mr. Dale and Mr. Douglas Dale was announced. These two
+gentlemen had just arrived at the castle, and the elder of the two
+requested the favour of an interview with his uncle's widow.
+
+She was seated in one of the apartments which had been allotted to her
+especial use when she arrived, a proud and happy bride, from her brief
+honeymoon tour. It was the spacious morning-room which had been sacred
+to the late Lady Eversleigh, Sir Oswald's mother.
+
+Here the widow sat in the hour of her desolation, unhonoured, unloved,
+without friend or counsellor; unless, indeed, the gallant soldier who
+had defended her from the suspicion of a hideous crime might stoop to
+befriend her further in her bitter need. She sat alone, uncertain,
+after the reading of the dead man's will, whether she might not be
+thrust forth from the doors of Raynham Castle, shelterless, homeless,
+penniless, once more a beggar and an outcast.
+
+Her heart was so cruelly stricken by the crushing blow that had fallen
+upon her; the grief she felt for her husband's untimely fate was so
+deep and sincere, that she thought but little of her own future. She
+had ceased to feel either hope or fear. Let fate do its worst. No
+sorrow that could come to her in the future, no disgrace, no
+humiliation, could equal in bitterness that fiery ordeal through which
+she had passed during the last few days.
+
+Lionel Dale was ushered into the morning-room while Lady Eversleigh sat
+by the hearth, absorbed in gloomy thought.
+
+She rose as Lionel Dale entered the room, and received him with stately
+courtesy.
+
+She was prepared to find herself despised by this young man, who would,
+in all probability, very speedily learn, or who had perhaps already
+learned, the story of her degradation.
+
+She was prepared to find herself misjudged by him. But he was the
+nephew of the man who had once so devotedly loved her; the husband
+whose memory was hallowed for her; and she was determined to receive
+him with all respect, for the sake of the beloved and honoured dead.
+
+"You are doubtless surprised to see me here, madam," said Mr. Dale, in
+a tone whose chilling accent told Honoria that this stranger was
+already prejudiced against her. "I have received no invitation to take
+part in the sad ceremonial of to-day, either from you or from Sir
+Reginald Eversleigh. But I loved Sir Oswald very dearly, and I am here
+to pay the last poor tribute of respect to that honoured and generous
+friend."
+
+"Permit me thank you for that tribute," answered Lady Eversleigh. "If I
+did not invite you and your brother to attend the funeral, it was from
+no wish to exclude you. My desires have been in no manner consulted
+with regard to the arrangements of to-day. Very bitter misery has
+fallen upon me within the last fortnight--heaven alone knows how
+undeserved that misery has been--and I know not whether this roof will
+shelter me after to-day."
+
+She looked at the stranger very earnestly as she said this. It was
+bitter to stand _quite_ alone in the world; to know herself utterly
+fallen in the estimation of all around her; and she looked at Lionel
+Dale with a faint hope that she might discover some touch of
+compassion, some shadow of doubt in his countenance.
+
+Alas, no,--there was none. It was a frank, handsome face--a face that
+was no polished mask beneath which the real man concealed himself. It
+was a true and noble countenance, easy to read as an open book. Honoria
+looked at it with despair in her heart, for she perceived but too
+plainly that this man also despised her. She understood at once that he
+had been told the story of his uncle's death, and regarded her as the
+indirect cause of that fatal event.
+
+And she was right. He had arrived at the chief inn in Raynham two hours
+before, and there he had heard the story of Lady Eversleigh's flight
+and Sir Oswald's sudden death, with some details of the inquest. Slow
+to believe evil, he had questioned Gilbert Ashburne, before accepting
+the terrible story as he had heard it from the landlord of the inn. Mr.
+Ashburne only confirmed that story, and admitted that, in his opinion,
+the flight and disgrace of the wife had been the sole cause of the
+death of the husband.
+
+Once having heard this, and from the lips of a man whom he knew to be
+the soul of truth and honour, Lionel Dale had but one feeling for his
+uncle's widow, and that feeling was abhorrence.
+
+He saw her in her beauty and her desolation; but he had no pity for her
+miserable position, and her beauty inspired him only with loathing; for
+had not that beauty been the first cause of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's
+melancholy fate?
+
+"I wished to see you, madam," said Lionel Dale, after that silence
+which seemed so long, "in order to apologize for a visit which might
+appear an intrusion. Having done so, I need trouble you no further."
+
+He bowed with chilling courtesy, and left the room. He had uttered no
+word of consolation, no assurance of sympathy, to that pale widow of a
+week; nothing could have been more marked than the omission of those
+customary phrases, and Honoria keenly felt their absence.
+
+The dead leaves strewed the avenue along which Sir Oswald Eversleigh
+went to his last resting-place; the dead leaves fluttered slowly
+downward from the giant oaks--the noble old beeches; there was not one
+gleam of sunshine on the landscape, not one break in the leaden grey of
+the sky. It seemed as if the funeral of departed summer was being
+celebrated on this first dreary autumn day.
+
+Lady Eversleigh occupied the second carriage in the stately procession.
+She was alone. Captain Copplestone was confined to his room by the
+gout. She went alone--tearless--in outward aspect calm as a statue; but
+the face of the corpse hidden in the coffin could scarcely have been
+whiter than hers.
+
+As the procession passed out of the gates of Raynham, a tramp who stood
+among the rest of the crowd, was strangely startled by the sight of
+that beautiful face, so lovely even in its marble whiteness.
+
+"Who is that woman sitting in yonder carriage?" he asked.
+
+He was a rough, bare-footed vagabond, with a dark evil-looking
+countenance, which he did well to keep shrouded by the broad brim of
+his battered hat. He looked more like a smuggler or a sailor than an
+agricultural labourer, and his skin was bronzed by long exposure to the
+weather.
+
+"She's Sir Oswald's widow," answered one of the bystanders; "she's his
+widow, more shame for her! It was she that brought him to his death,
+with her disgraceful goings-on."
+
+The man who spoke was a Raynham tradesman.
+
+"What goings-on?" asked the tramp, eagerly. "I'm a stranger in these
+parts, and don't know anything about yonder funeral."
+
+"More's the pity," replied the tradesman. "Everybody ought to know the
+story of that fine madam, who just passed us by in her carriage. It
+might serve as a warning for honest men not to be led away by a pretty
+face. That white-faced woman yonder is Lady Eversleigh. Nobody knows
+who she was, or where she came from, before Sir Oswald brought her home
+here. She hadn't been home a month before she ran away from her husband
+with a young foreigner. She repented her wickedness before she'd got
+very far, and begged and prayed to be took back again, and vowed and
+declared that she'd been lured away by a villain; and that it was all a
+mistake. That's how I've heard the story from the servants, and one and
+another. But Sir Oswald would not speak to her, and she would have been
+turned out of doors if it hadn't been for an old friend of his.
+However, the end of her wickedness was that Sir Oswald poisoned
+himself, as every one knows."
+
+No more was said. The tramp followed the procession with the rest of
+the crowd, first to the village church, where a portion of the funeral
+service was read, and then back to the park, where the melancholy
+ceremonial was completed before the family mausoleum.
+
+It was while the crowd made a circle round this mausoleum that the
+tramp contrived to push his way to the front rank of the spectators. He
+stood foremost amongst a group of villagers, when Lady Eversleigh
+happened to look towards the spot where he was stationed.
+
+In that moment a sudden change came over the face of the widow. Its
+marble whiteness was dyed by a vivid crimson--a sudden flush of shame
+or indignation, which passed away quickly; but a dark shadow remained
+upon Lady Eversleigh's brow after that red glow had faded from her
+cheek.
+
+No one observed that change of countenance. The moment was a solemn
+one; and even those who did not really feel its solemnity, affected to
+do so.
+
+At the last instant, when the iron doors of the mausoleum closed with a
+clanging sound upon the new inmate of that dark abode, Honoria's
+fortitude all at once forsook her. One long cry, which was like a
+shriek wrung from the spirit of despair, broke from her colourless
+lips, and in the next moment she had sunk fainting upon the ground
+before those inexorable doors.
+
+No sympathizing eyes had watched her looks, or friendly arm was
+stretched forth in time to support her. But when she lay lifeless and
+unconscious on the sodden grass, some touch of pity stirred the hearts
+of the two brothers, Lionel and Douglas Dale.
+
+The elder, Lionel, stepped forward, and lifted that lifeless form from
+the ground. He carried the unconscious widow to the carriage, where he
+seated her.
+
+Sense returned only too quickly to that tortured brain. Honoria
+Eversleigh opened her eyes, and recognized the man who stood by her
+side.
+
+"I am better now," she said. "Do not let my weakness cause you any
+trouble. I do not often faint; but that last moment was too bitter."
+
+"Are you really quite recovered? Can I venture to leave you?" asked
+Lionel Dale, in a much kinder tone than he had employed before in
+speaking to his uncle's widow.
+
+"Yes, indeed, I have quite recovered. I thank you for your kindness,"
+murmured Honoria, gently.
+
+Lionel Dale went back to the carriage allotted to himself and his
+brother. On his way, he encountered Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+"I have heard it whispered that my uncle's wife was an actress," said
+Reginald. "That exhibition just now was rather calculated to confirm
+the idea."
+
+"If by 'exhibition' you mean that outburst of despair, I am convinced
+that it was perfectly genuine," answered Lionel, coldly.
+
+"I am sorry you are so easily duped, my dear Lionel," returned his
+cousin, with a sneer. "I did not think a pretty face would have such
+influence over you."
+
+No more was said. The two men passed to their respective carriages, and
+the funeral procession moved homewards.
+
+In the grand dining-hall of the castle, Sir Oswald's lawyer was to read
+the will. Kinsmen, friends, servants, all were assembled to hear the
+reading of that solemn document.
+
+In the place of honour sat Lady Eversleigh. She sat on the right hand
+of the lawyer, calm and dignified, as if no taint of suspicion had ever
+tarnished her fame.
+
+The solicitor read the will. It was that will which Sir Oswald had
+executed immediately after his marriage--the will, of which he had
+spoken to his nephew, Reginald.
+
+It made Honoria Eversleigh sole mistress of the Raynham estates. It
+gave to Lionel and Douglas Dale property worth ten thousand a year. It
+gave to Reginald a small estate, producing an income of five hundred a
+year. To Captain Copplestone the baronet left a legacy of three
+thousand pounds, and an antique seal-ring which had been worn by
+himself.
+
+The old servants of Raynham were all remembered, and some curious old
+plate and gold snuff-boxes were left to Mr. Wargrave, the rector, and
+Gilbert Ashburne.
+
+This was all. Five hundred a year was the amount by which Reginald had
+profited by the death of a generous kinsman.
+
+By the terms of Sir Oswald's will the estates of Lionel and Douglas
+Dale would revert to Reginald Eversleigh in case the owners should die
+without direct heirs. If either of these young men were to die
+unmarried, his brother would succeed to his estate, worth five thousand
+a year. But if both should die, Reginald Eversleigh would become the
+owner of double that amount.
+
+It was the merest chance, the shadow of a chance, for the lives of both
+young men were better than his own, inasmuch as both had led healthful
+and steadier lives than the dissipated Reginald Eversleigh. But even
+this poor chance was something.
+
+"They may die," he thought; "death lurks in every bush that borders the
+highway of life. They or both may die, and I may regain the wealth that
+should have been mine."
+
+He looked at the two young men. Lionel, the elder, was the handsomer of
+the two. He was fair, with brown curling hair, and frank blue eyes.
+Reginald, as he looked at him, thought bitterly, "I must indeed be the
+very fool of hope and credulity to fancy he will not marry. But, if he
+were safe, I should not so much fear Douglas." The younger, Douglas,
+was a man whom some people would have called plain. But the dark sallow
+face, with its irregular features, was illuminated by an expression of
+mingled intelligence and amiability, which possessed a charm for all
+judges worth pleasing.
+
+Lionel was the clergyman, Douglas the lawyer, or rather law-student,
+for the glory of his maiden brief was yet to come.
+
+How Reginald envied these fortunate kinsmen! He hated them with
+passionate hate. He looked from them to Honoria, the woman against whom
+he had plotted--the woman who triumphed in spite of him--for he could
+not imagine that grief for a dead husband could have any place in the
+heart of a woman who found herself mistress of such a domain as
+Raynham, and its dependencies.
+
+Lady Eversleigh's astonishment was unbounded. This will placed her in
+even a loftier position than that which she had occupied when possessed
+of the confidence and affection of her husband. For her pride there was
+some consolation in this thought; but the triumph, which was sweet to
+the proud spirit, afforded no balm for the wounded heart. He was gone--
+he whose love had made her mistress of that wealth and splendour. He
+was gone from her for ever, and he had died believing her false.
+
+In the midst of her triumph the widow bowed her head upon her hands,
+and sobbed convulsively. The tears wrung from her in this moment were
+the first she had shed that day, and they were very bitter.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh watched her with scorn and hatred in his heart.
+
+"What do you say now, Lionel?" he said to his cousin, when the three
+young men had left the dining-hall, and were seated at luncheon in a
+smaller chamber. "You did not think my respected aunt a clever actress
+when she fainted before the doors of the mausoleum. You will at least
+acknowledge that the piece of acting she favoured us with just now was
+superb."
+
+"What do you mean by 'a piece of acting'?"
+
+"That outburst of grief which my lady indulged in, when she found
+herself mistress of Raynham."
+
+"I believe that it was genuine," answered Mr. Dale, gravely.
+
+"Oh, you think the inheritance a fitting subject for lamentation?"
+
+"No, Reginald. I think a woman who had wronged her husband, and had
+been the indirect cause of his death, might well feel sorrow when she
+discovered how deeply she had been loved, and how fully she had been
+trusted by that generous husband."
+
+"Bah!" cried Reginald, contemptuously. "I tell you, man, Lady
+Eversleigh is a consummate actress, though she never acted before a
+better audience than the clodhoppers at a country fair. Do you know who
+my lady was when Sir Oswald picked her out of the gutter? If you don't,
+I'll enlighten you. She was a street ballad-singer, whom the baronet
+found one night starving in the market-place of a country town. He
+picked her up--out of charity; and because the creature happened to
+have a pretty face, he was weak enough to marry her."
+
+"Respect the follies of the dead," replied Lionel. "My uncle's love was
+generous. I only regret that the object of it was so unworthy."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Reginald, "I thought just now that you sympathized with
+my lady."
+
+"I sympathize with every remorseful sinner," said Lionel.
+
+"Ah, that's your _shop_!" cried Reginald, who could not conceal his
+bitter feelings. "You sympathize with Lady Eversleigh because she is a
+wealthy sinner, and mistress of Raynham Castle. Perhaps you'll stop
+here and try to step into Sir Oswald's shoes. I don't know whether
+there's any law against a man marrying his uncle's widow."
+
+"You insult me, and you insult the dead, Sir Reginald, by the tone in
+which you discuss these things," answered Lionel Dale. "I shall leave
+Raynham by this evening's coach, and there is little likelihood that
+Lady Eversleigh and I shall ever meet again. It is not for me to judge
+her sins, or penetrate the secrets of her heart. I believe that her
+grief to-day was thoroughly genuine. It is not because a woman has
+sinned that she must needs be incapable of any womanly feeling."
+
+"You are in a very charitable humour, Lionel," said Sir Reginald, with
+a sneer; "but you can afford to be charitable."
+
+Mr. Dale did not reply to this insolent speech.
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh and his two cousins left the village of Raynham
+by the same coach. The evening was finer than the day had been, and a
+full moon steeped the landscape in her soft light, as the travellers
+looked their last on the grand old castle.
+
+The baronet contemplated the scene with unmitigated rage.
+
+"Hers!" he muttered; "hers! to have and hold so long as she lives! A
+nameless woman has tricked me out of the inheritance which should have
+been mine. But let her beware! Despair is bold, and I may yet discover
+some mode of vengeance."
+
+While the departing traveller mused thus, a pale woman stood at one of
+the windows of Raynham Castle, looking out upon the woods, over which
+the moon sailed in all her glory.
+
+"Mine!" she said to herself; "those lands and woods belong to me!--to
+me, who have stood face to face with starvation!--to me, who have
+considered it a privilege to sleep in an empty barn! They are mine; but
+the possession of them brings no pleasure. My life has been blighted by
+a wrong so cruel, that wealth and position are worthless in my eyes."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+                     IN YOUR PATIENCE YE ARE STRONG.
+
+Early upon the morning after the funeral, a lad from the village of
+Raynham presented himself at the principal door of the servants'
+offices, and asked to see Lady Eversleigh's maid.
+
+The young woman who filled that office was summoned, and came to
+inquire the business of the messenger.
+
+Her name was Jane Payland; she was a Londoner by birth, and a citizen
+of the world by education.
+
+She had known very little of either comfort or prosperity before she
+entered the service of Lady Eversleigh. She was, therefore, in some
+measure at least, devoted to the interests of that mistress, and she
+was inclined to believe in her innocence; though, even to her, the
+story of the night in Yarborough Tower seemed almost too wild and
+improbable for belief.
+
+Jane Payland was about twenty-four years of age, tall, slim, and
+active. She had no pretensions to beauty; but was the sort of person
+who is generally called lady-like.
+
+This morning she went to the little lobby, in which the boy had been
+told to wait, indignant at the impertinence of anyone who could dare to
+intrude upon her mistress at such a time.
+
+"Who are you, and what do you want?" she asked angrily.
+
+"If you please, ma'am, I'm Widow Beckett's son," the boy answered, in
+evident terror of the young woman in the rustling black silk dress and
+smart cap; "and I've brought this letter, please; and I was only to
+give it to the lady's own maid, please.
+
+"I am her own maid," answered Jane.
+
+The boy handed her a dirty-looking letter, directed, in a bold clear
+hand, to Lady Eversleigh.
+
+"Who gave you this?" asked Jane Payland, looking at the dirty envelope
+with extreme disgust.
+
+"It was a tramp as give it me--a tramp as I met in the village; and
+I'm to wait for an answer, please, and I'm to take it to him at the
+'Hen and Chickens.'"
+
+"How dare you bring Lady Eversleigh a letter given you by a tramp--a
+begging letter, of course? I wonder at your impudence."
+
+"I didn't go to do no harm," expostulated Master Beckett. "He says to
+me, he says, 'If her ladyship once sets eyes upon that letter, she'll
+arnswer it fast enough; and now you cut and run,' he says; 'it's a
+matter of life and death, it is, and it won't do to waste time over
+it.'"
+
+These words were rather startling to the mind of Jane Payland. What was
+she to do? Her own idea was, that the letter was the concoction of some
+practised impostor, and that it would be an act of folly to take it to
+her mistress. But what if the letter should be really of importance?
+What if there should be some meaning in the boy's words? Was it not her
+duty to convey the letter to Lady Eversleigh?
+
+"Stay here till I return," she said, pointing to a bench in the lobby.
+
+The boy seated himself on the extremest edge of the bench, with his hat
+on his knees, and Jane Payland left him.
+
+She went straight to the suite of apartments occupied by Lady
+Eversleigh.
+
+Honoria did not raise her eyes when Jane Payland entered the room.
+There was a gloomy abstraction in her face, and melancholy engrossed
+her thoughts.
+
+"I beg pardon for disturbing you, my lady," said Jane; "but a lad from
+the village has brought a letter, given him by a tramp; and, according
+to his account, the man talked in such a very strange manner that I
+thought I really ought to tell you, my lady; and--"
+
+To the surprise of Jane Payland, Lady Eversleigh started suddenly from
+her seat, and advanced towards her, awakened into sudden life and
+energy as by a spell.
+
+"Give me the letter," she cried, abruptly.
+
+She took the soiled and crumpled envelope from her servant's hand with
+a hasty gesture.
+
+"You may go," she said; "I will ring when I want you."
+
+Jane Payland would have given a good deal to see that letter opened;
+but she had no excuse for remaining longer in the room. So she
+departed, and went to her lady's dressing-room, which, as well as all
+the other apartments, opened out of the corridor.
+
+In about a quarter of an hour, Lady Eversleigh's bell rang, and Jane
+hurried to the morning-room.
+
+She found her mistress still seated by the hearth. Her desk stood open
+on the table by her side; and on the desk lay a letter, so newly
+addressed that the ink on the envelope was still wet.
+
+"You will take that to the lad who is waiting," said Honoria, pointing
+to this newly-written letter.
+
+"Yes, my lady."
+
+Jane Payland departed. On the way between Lady Eversleigh's room and
+the lobby in the servants' offices, she had ample leisure to examine
+the letter.
+
+It was addressed--
+
+"_Mr. Brown, at the 'Hen and Chickens_.'"
+
+It was sealed with a plain seal. Jane Payland was very well acquainted
+with the writing of her mistress, and she perceived at once that this
+letter was not directed in Lady Eversleigh's usual hand.
+
+The writing had been disguised. It was evident, therefore, that this
+was a letter which Lady Eversleigh would have shrunk from avowing as
+her own.
+
+Every moment the mystery grew darker. Jane Payland liked her mistress;
+but there were two things which she liked still better. Those two
+things were power and gain. She perceived in the possession of her
+lady's secrets a high-road to the mastery of both. Thus it happened
+that, when she had very nearly arrived at the lobby where the boy was
+waiting, Jane Payland suddenly changed her mind, and darted off in
+another direction.
+
+She hurried along a narrow passage, up the servants' staircase, and
+into her own room. Here she remained for some fifteen or twenty
+minutes, occupied with some task which required the aid of a lighted
+candle.
+
+At the end of that time she emerged, with a triumphant smile upon her
+thin lips, and Lady Eversleigh's letter in her hand.
+
+The seal which secured the envelope was a blank seal; but it was not
+the same as the one with which Honoria Eversleigh had fastened her
+letter half an hour before.
+
+The abigail carried the letter to the boy, and the boy departed, very
+well pleased to get clear of the castle without having received any
+further reproof.
+
+He went at his best speed to the little inn, where he inquired for Mr.
+Brown.
+
+That gentleman emerged presently from the inn-yard, where he had been
+hanging about, listening to all that was to be heard, and talking to
+the ostler.
+
+He took the letter from the boy's hand, and rewarded him with the
+promised shilling. Then he left the yard, and walked down a lane
+leading towards the river.
+
+In this unfrequented lane he tore open the envelope, and read his
+letter.
+
+It was very brief:
+
+"_Since my only chance of escaping persecution is to accede, in some
+measure, to your demands, I will consent to see you. If you will wait
+for me to-night, at nine o'clock, by the water-side, to the left of the
+bridge, I will try to come to that spot at that hour. Heaven grant the
+meeting may be our last_!"
+
+Exactly as the village church clock struck nine, a dark figure crossed
+a low, flat meadow, lying near the water, and appeared upon the narrow
+towing-path by the river's edge. A man was walking on this pathway, his
+face half hidden by a slouched hat, and a short pipe in his month.
+
+He lifted his hat presently, and bared his head to the cool night
+breeze. His hair was closely cropped, like that of a convict. The broad
+moonlight shining fall upon his face, revealed a dark, weather-beaten
+countenance--the face of the tramp who had stood at the park-gates to
+watch the passing of Sir Oswald's funeral train--the face of the tramp
+who had loitered in the stable-yard of the "Hen and Chickens"--the face
+of the man who had been known in Ratcliff Highway by the ominous name
+of Black Milsom.
+
+This was the man who waited for Honoria Eversleigh in the moonlight by
+the quiet river.
+
+He advanced to meet her as she came out of the meadow and appeared upon
+the pathway.
+
+"Good evening, my lady," he said. "I suppose I ought to be humbly
+beholden to such a grand lady as you for coming here to meet the likes
+of me. But it seems rather strange you must needs come out here in
+secret to see such a very intimate acquaintance as I am, considering as
+you're the mistress of that great castle up yonder. I must say it seems
+uncommon hard a man can't pay a visit to his own--"
+
+"Hush!" cried Lady Eversleigh. "Do not call me by _that_ name, if you
+do not wish to inspire me with a deeper loathing than that which I
+already feel for you."
+
+"Well, I'm blest!" muttered Mr. Milsom; "that's uncommon civil language
+from a young woman to--"
+
+Honoria stopped him by a sudden gesture.
+
+"I suppose you expect to profit by this interview?" she said.
+
+"That I most decidedly do expect," answered the tramp.
+
+"In that case, you will carefully avoid all mention of the past, for
+otherwise you will get nothing from me."
+
+The man responded at first only with a sulky growl. Then, after a brief
+pause, he muttered--
+
+"I don't want to talk about the past any more than you do, my fine,
+proud madam. If it isn't a pleasant time for you to remember, it isn't
+a pleasant time for me to remember. It's all very well for a young
+woman who has her victuals found for her to give herself airs about the
+manner other people find _their_ victuals; but a man must live somehow
+or other. If he can't get his living in a pleasant way, he must get it
+in an unpleasant way."
+
+After this there was a silence which lasted for some minutes. Lady
+Eversleigh was trying to control the agitation which oppressed her,
+despite the apparent calmness of her manner. Black Milsom walked by her
+side in sullen silence, waiting for her to speak.
+
+The spot was lonely. Lady Eversleigh and her companion were justified
+in believing themselves unobserved.
+
+But it was not so. Lonely as the spot was, those two were not alone. A
+stealthy, gliding, female figure, dark and shadowy in the uncertain
+light, had followed Lady Eversleigh from the castle gates, and that
+figure was beside her now, as she walked with Black Milsom upon the
+river bank.
+
+The spy crept by the side of the hedge that separated the river bank
+from the meadow; and sheltered thus, she was able to distinguish almost
+every word spoken by the two upon the bank, so clearly sounded their
+voices in the still night air.
+
+"How did you find me here?" asked Lady Eversleigh, at last.
+
+"By accident. You gave us the slip so cleverly that time you took it
+into your precious head to cut and run, that, hunt where we would, we
+were never able to find you. I gave it up for a bad job; and then
+things went agen me, and I got sent away. But I'm my own master again
+now; and I mean to make good use of my liberty, I can tell you, my
+lady. I little knew how you'd feathered your nest while I was on the
+other side of the water. I little thought how you would turn up at
+last, when I least expected to see you. You might have knocked me down
+with a feather yesterday, when that fine funeral came out of the park
+gates, and I saw your face at the window of one of the coaches. You
+must have been an uncommonly clever young woman, and an uncommonly sly
+one, to get a baronite for your husband, and to get a spooney old cove
+to leave you all his fortune, after behaving so precious bad to him.
+Did your husband know who you were when he married you?"
+
+"He found me starving in the street of a country town. He knew that I
+was friendless, homeless, penniless. That knowledge did not prevent him
+making me his wife."
+
+"Ah! but there was something more he didn't know. He didn't know that
+you were Black Milsom's daughter; you didn't tell him that, I'll lay a
+wager."
+
+"I did not tell him that which I know to be a lie," replied Honoria,
+calmly.
+
+"Oh, it's a lie, is it? You are not my daughter, I suppose?"
+
+"No, Thomas Milsom, I am not--I know and feel that I am not"
+
+"Humph!" muttered Black Milsom, savagely; "if you were not my daughter,
+how was it that you grew up to call me father?"
+
+"Because I was forced to do so. I remember being told to call you
+father. I remember being beaten because I refused to do so--
+beaten till I submitted from very fear of being beaten to death. Oh, it
+was a bright and happy childhood, was it not, Thomas Milsom? A
+childhood to look back to with love and regret. And now, finding that
+fortune has lifted me out of the gutter into which you flung me, you
+come to me to demand your share of my good fortune, I suppose?"
+
+"That's about it, my lady," answered Mr. Milsom, with supreme coolness.
+"I don't mind a few hard words, more or less--they break no bones; and,
+what's more, I'm used to 'em. What I want is money, ready money, down
+on the nail, and plenty of it. You may pelt me as hard as you like with
+fine speeches, as long as you cash up liberally; but cash I must have,
+by fair means or foul, and I want a pretty good sum to start with."
+
+"You want a large sum," said Honoria, quietly; "how much do you want?"
+
+"Well, I don't want to take a mean advantage of your generosity, so
+I'll be moderate. Say five thousand pounds--to begin with."
+
+"And you expect to get that from me?"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"Five thousand pounds?"
+
+"Five thousand pounds, ready money."
+
+Lady Eversleigh stopped suddenly, and looked the man full in the face.
+
+"You shall not have five thousand pence," she exclaimed, "not five
+thousand pence. My dead husband's money shall never pass into your
+hands, to be squandered in scenes of vice and crime. If you choose to
+live an honest life, I will allow you a hundred a year--a pension which
+shall be paid you quarterly--through the hands of my London solicitors.
+Beyond this, I will not give you a halfpenny."
+
+"What!" roared Black Milsom, in an infuriated tone. "What, Jenny
+Milsom, Honoria, Lady Eversleigh, or whatever you may please to call
+yourself, do you think I will stand that? Do you think I will hold my
+tongue unless you pay me handsomely to keep silence? You don't know the
+kind of man you have to deal with. To-morrow every one in the village
+shall know what a high-born lady lives up at the old castle--they shall
+know what a dutiful daughter the lady of Raynham is, and how she
+suffers her father to tramp barefoot in the mud, while she rides in her
+carriage!"
+
+"You may tell them what you please."
+
+"I'll tell them plenty, you may depend upon it."
+
+"Will you tell them how Valentine Jernam came by his death?" asked
+Honoria, in a strange tone.
+
+The tramp started, and for a few moments seemed at a loss for words in
+which to reply. But he recovered himself very quickly, and exclaimed,
+savagely--
+
+"I'm not going to tell them any of your senseless dreams and fancies;
+but I mean to tell them who you are. That will be quite enough for
+them; and before I do let them know so much, you'd better change your
+mind, and act generously towards me."
+
+"Upon that subject I shall never change my mind," answered Honoria
+Eversleigh, with perfect self-possession. "You will accept the pension
+I offer you, or you will reject it, as you please--you will never
+receive more, directly or indirectly, from me," she continued,
+presently. "As for your threat of telling my miserable history to the
+people of this place, it is a threat which can have no influence over
+me. Tell these people what you choose. Happily, the opinion of the
+world is of small account to me."
+
+"You will change your mind between this and to-morrow morning," cried
+Black Milsom.
+
+He was almost beside himself with rage and mortification. He felt as if
+he could have torn this woman to pieces--this proud and courageous
+creature, who dared to defy him.
+
+"I shall not change my mind," answered Honoria. "You could not conquer
+me, even when I was a weak and helpless child; you must remember that."
+
+"Humph! you were rather a queer temper in those days--a strange-looking
+child, too, with your white face and your big black eyes."
+
+"Aye; and even in those days my will was able to do battle with men and
+women, and to support me even against your violence. You, and those
+belonging to you, were able to break my heart, but were not strong
+enough to bend my spirit. I have the same spirit yet, Thomas Milsom;
+and you will find it useless to try to turn me from my purpose."
+
+The man did not answer immediately. He looked fiercely, searchingly, at
+the pale, resolute face that was turned to him in the moonlight.
+
+"The name of my solicitor is Dunford," said Honoria, presently; "Mr.
+Joseph Dunford, of Gray's Inn. If you apply to him on your arrival in
+London, he will give you the first installment of your pension."
+
+"Five and twenty pounds!" grumbled Milsom; "a very handsome amount,
+upon my word! And you have fifteen thousand a year!"
+
+"I have."
+
+"May the curse of a black and bitter heart cling to you!" cried the
+man.
+
+Lady Eversleigh turned from her companion with a gesture of loathing.
+But there was no fear in her heart. She walked slowly back to the gate
+leading into the meadow, followed by Milsom, who heaped abusive
+epithets upon her at every step. As she entered the meadow, the figure
+of the spy drew suddenly back into the shadow of the hedge; from which
+it did not emerge till Honoria had disappeared through the little gate
+on the opposite side of the field, and the heavy tramp of Milsom's
+footsteps had died away in the distance.
+
+Then the figure came forth into the broad moonlight; and that subdued,
+but clear radiance, revealed the pale, thin face of Jane Payland.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Jane Payland was brushing her mistress's hair that night, she
+ventured to sound her as to her future movements, by a few cautions and
+respectful questions, to which Lady Eversleigh replied with less than
+her usual reticence. From her lady's answers, the waiting-maid
+ascertained that she had no idea of seeking any relaxation in change of
+scene, but purposed to reside at Raynham for at least one year.
+
+Jane Payland wondered at the decision of her mistress's manner. She had
+imagined that Lady Eversleigh would be eager to leave a place in which
+she found herself the object of disapprobation and contempt.
+
+"If I were her, I would go to France, and be a great lady in Paris--
+which is twenty times gayer and more delightful than any place in
+stupid, straight-laced old England," thought Jane Payland. "If I had
+her money, I would spend it, and enjoy life, in spite of all the
+world."
+
+"I'm afraid your health will suffer from a long residence at the
+castle, my lady," said Jane, presently, determined to do all in her
+power to bring about a change in her mistress's plans. "After such a
+shock as you have had, some distraction must be necessary. When I had
+the honour of living with the Duchess of Mountaintour, and we lost the
+dear duke, the first thing I said to the duchess, after the funeral,
+was--'Change of scene, your grace, change of scene; nothing like change
+of scene when the mind has received a sudden blow.' The sweet duchess's
+physician actually echoed my words, though he had never heard them; and
+within a week of the sad ceremony we started for the Continent, where
+we remained a year; at the end of which period the dear duchess was
+united to the Marquis of Purpeltown."
+
+"The duchess was speedily consoled," replied Lady Eversleigh, with a
+smile which was not without bitterness. "No doubt the variety and
+excitement of a Continental tour did much towards blotting out all
+memory of her dead husband. But I do not wish to forget. I am in no
+hurry to obliterate the image of one who was most dear to me."
+
+Jane Payland looked very searchingly at the pale, earnest face
+reflected in the glass.
+
+"For me, that which the world calls pleasure never possessed any
+powerful fascination," continued Honoria, gravely. "My childhood and
+youth were steeped in sorrow--sorrow beyond anything you can imagine,
+Jane Payland; though I have heard you say that you have seen much
+trouble. The remembrance of it comes back to me more vividly than ever
+now. Thus it is that I shrink from society, which can give me no real
+pleasure. Had I no special reason for remaining at Raynham, I should
+not care to leave it"
+
+"But you have a special reason, my lady?" inquired Jane, eagerly.
+
+"I have."
+
+"May I presume to ask--"
+
+"You may, Jane; and I think I may venture to trust you fully, for I
+believe you are my friend. I mean to stay at Raynham, because, in this
+hour of sorrow and desolation, Providence has not abandoned me entirely
+to despair. I have one bright hope, which renders the thought of my
+future endurable to me. I stay at Raynham, because I hope next spring
+an heir will be born to Raynham Castle."
+
+"Oh, what happiness! And you wish the heir to be born at the castle, my
+lady?"
+
+"I do! I have been the victim of one plot, but I will not fall
+blindfold into a second snare; and there is no infamy which my enemies
+are not base enough to attempt. There shall be no mystery about my
+life. From the hour of my husband's death to the hour of his child's
+birth, the friends of that lost husband shall know every act of my
+existence. They shall see me day by day. The old servants of the family
+shall attend me. I will live in the old house, surrounded by all who
+knew and loved Sir Oswald. No vile plotters shall ever be able to say
+that there was trick or artifice connected with the birth of that
+child. If I live to protect and watch over it, that infant life shall
+be guarded against every danger, and defended from every foe. And there
+will be many foes ready to assail the inheritor of Raynham."
+
+"Why so, my lady?"
+
+"Because that young life, and my life, will stand between a villain and
+a fortune. If I and my child were both to die, Reginald Eversleigh
+would become possessor of the wealth to which he once was the
+acknowledged heir. By the terms of Sir Oswald's will, he receives very
+little in the present, but the future has many chances for him. If I
+die childless, he will inherit the Raynham estates. If his two cousins,
+the Dales, die without direct heirs, he will inherit ten thousand a
+year."
+
+"But that seems only a poor chance after all, my lady. There is no
+reason why Sir Reginald Eversleigh should survive you or the two Mr.
+Dales."
+
+"There is no reason, except his own villany," answered Honoria,
+thoughtfully. "There are some men capable of anything. But let us talk
+no further on the subject. I have confided my secret to you, Jane
+Payland, because I think you are faithfully devoted to my interests.
+You know now why I am resolved to remain at Raynham Castle; and you
+think my decision wise, do you not?"
+
+"Well, yes; I certainly do, my lady," answered Jane, after some moments
+of hesitation.
+
+"And now leave me. Good night! I have kept you long this evening, I see
+by that timepiece. But my thoughts were wandering, and I was
+unconscious of the progress of time. Good night!"
+
+Jane Payland took a respectful leave of her mistress, and departed,
+absorbed in thought.
+
+"Is she a good woman or a bad one?" she wondered, as she sat by the
+fire in her own comfortable apartment. "If she is a bad woman, she's an
+out-and-outer; for she looks one in the face, with those superb black
+eyes of hers, as bright and clear as the image of truth itself. She
+must be good and true. She must! And yet that night's absence, and that
+story about Yarborough Tower--that seems too much for anybody on earth
+to believe."
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+                           A GHOSTLY VISITANT.
+
+For nearly three years Thomas Milsom had been far away from London. He
+had been arrested on a charge of burglary, within a month of Valentine
+Jernam's death, and condemned to five years' transportation. In less
+than three years, by some kind of artful management, and by the
+exercise of consummate hypocrisy, Mr. Milsom had contrived to get
+himself free again, and to return to England his own master.
+
+He landed in Scotland, and tramped from Granton to Yorkshire, where an
+accidental encounter with an old acquaintance tempted him to linger at
+Raynham. The two tramps, scoundrels both, and both alike penniless and
+shoeless, had stood side by side at the gates of the park, to see the
+stately funeral train pass out.
+
+And thus Thomas Milsom had beheld her whom he called his daughter,--the
+girl who had fled, with her old grandfather, from the shelter of his
+fatal roof three years before.
+
+After that unprofitable interview with Honoria, Thomas Milsom his face
+Londonwards.
+
+"The day will come when you and I will square accounts, my lady," he
+muttered, as he looked up to those battlemented turrets, with a
+blasphemous curse, and then turned his back upon Raynham Castle, and
+the peaceful little village beneath it.
+
+The direction in which Mr. Milsom betook himself, after he passed the
+border-land of waste ground and newly-built houses which separates
+London from the country, was the direction of Ratcliff Highway. He
+walked rapidly through the crowded streets, in which the crowd grew
+thicker as he approached the regions of the Tower. But rapidly as he
+walked, the steps of Time were faster. It had been bright noon when he
+entered the quiet little town of Barnet. It was night when he first
+heard the scraping fiddles and stamping feet of Ratcliff Highway. He
+went straight to the 'Jolly Tar'.
+
+Here all was unchanged. There were the flaring tallow candles, set in a
+tin hoop that hung from the low ceiling, dropping hot grease ever and
+anon on the loungers at the bar. There was the music--the same Scotch
+reels and Irish jigs, played on squeaking fiddles, which were made more
+inharmonious by the accompaniment of shrill Pandean pipes. There was
+the same crowd of sailors and bare-headed, bare-armed, loud-voiced
+women assembled in the stifling bar, the same cloud of tobacco-smoke,
+the same Babel of voices to be heard from the concert-room within;
+while now and then, amongst the shouts and the laughter, the oaths and
+the riot, there sounded the tinkling of the old piano, and the feeble
+upper notes of a very poor soprano voice.
+
+Black Milsom had drawn his hat over his eyes before entering the "Jolly
+Tar."
+
+The bar of that tavern was sunk considerably below the level of the
+street, and standing on the uppermost of the steps by which Mr.
+Wayman's customers descended to his hospitable abode, Black Milsom was
+able to look across the heads of the crowd to the face of the landlord
+busy behind his bar.
+
+In that elevated position Black Milsom waited until Dennis Wayman
+happened to look up and perceive the stranger on the threshold.
+
+As he did so, Thomas Milsom drew the back of his hand rapidly across
+his mouth, with a gesture that was evidently intended as a signal.
+
+The signal was answered by a nod from Wayman, and then Black Milsom
+descended the three steps, and pushed his way to the bar.
+
+"Can I have a bed, mate, and a bit of supper?" he asked, in a voice
+that was carefully disguised.
+
+"Ay, ay, to be sure you can," answered Wayman; "you can have everything
+that is comfortable and friendly by paying for it. This house is one of
+the most hospitable places there is--to those that can pay the
+reckoning."
+
+This rather clumsy joke was received with an applauding guffaw by the
+sailors and women next the bar.
+
+"If you'll step through that door yonder, you'll find a snug little
+room, mate," said Dennis Wayman, in the tone which he might have used
+in speaking to a stranger; "I'll send you a steak and a potato as soon
+as they can be cooked."
+
+Thomas Milsom nodded. He pushed open the rough wooden door which was so
+familiar to him, and went into the dingy little den which, in the
+'Jolly Tar', was known as the private parlour.
+
+It was the room in which he had first seen Valentine Jernam. Two years
+and a half had passed since he had last entered it; and during that
+time Mr. Milsom had been paying the penalty of his misdeeds in Van
+Dieman's Land. This dingy little den, with its greasy walls and low,
+smoky ceiling, was a kind of paradise to the returned wanderer. Here,
+at least, was freedom. Here, at least, he was his own master: free to
+enjoy strong drinks and strong tobacco--free to be lazy when he
+pleased, and to work after the fashion that suited him best.
+
+He seated himself in one chair, and planted his legs on another. Then
+he took a short clay pipe from his pocket, filled and lighted it, and
+began to smoke, in a slow meditative manner, stopping every now and
+then to mutter to himself, between the puffs of tobacco.
+
+Mr. Milsom had finished his second pipe of shag tobacco, and had given
+utterance to more than one exclamation of anger and impatience, when
+the door was opened, and Dennis Wayman made his appearance, bearing a
+tray with a couple of covered dishes and a large pewter pot.
+
+"I thought I'd bring you your grub myself, mate," he said; "though I'm
+precious busy in yonder. I'm uncommonly glad to see you back again.
+I've been wondering where you was ever since you disappeared."
+
+"You'd have left off wondering if you'd known I was on the other side
+of this blessed world of ours. I thought you knew I was--"
+
+Mr. Milsom's delicacy of feeling prevented his finishing this speech.
+
+"I knew you had got into trouble," answered Mr. Wayman. "At least, I
+didn't know for certain, but I guessed as much; though sometimes I was
+half inclined to think you had turned cheat, and given me the slip."
+
+"Bolted with the swag, I suppose you mean?"
+
+"Precisely!" answered Dennis Wayman, coolly.
+
+"Which shows your suspicious nature," returned Milsom, in a sulky tone.
+"When an unlucky chap turns his back upon his comrades, the worst word
+in their mouths isn't half bad enough for him. That's the way of the
+world, that is. No, Dennis Wayman; I didn't bolt with the swag--not
+sixpence of Valentine Jernam's money have I had the spending of; no
+even what I won from him at cards. I was nobbled one day, without a
+moment's warning, on a twopenny-halfpenny charge of burglary--never you
+mind whether it was true, or whether it was false--that ain't worth
+going into. I was took under a false name, and I stuck to that false
+name, thinking it more convenient. I should have sent to let you know,
+if I could have found a safe hand to take my message; but I couldn't
+find a living creature that was anything like safe--so there I was,
+remanded on a Monday, tried on a Tuesday, and then a fortnight after
+shipped off like a bullock, along of so many other bullocks; and that's
+the long and the short of it."
+
+After having said which, Mr. Milsom applied himself to his supper,
+which consisted of a smoking steak, and a dish of still more smoking
+potatoes.
+
+Dennis Wayman sat watching him for some minutes in thoughtful silence.
+The intent gaze with which he regarded the face of his friend, was that
+of a man who was by no means inclined to believe every syllable he had
+heard. After Milsom had devoured about a pound of steak, and at least
+two pounds of potatoes, Mr. Wayman ventured to interrupt his operations
+by a question.
+
+"If you didn't collar the money, what became of it?" he asked.
+
+"Put away," returned the other man, shortly; "and as safe as a church,
+unless my bad luck goes against me harder than it ever went yet."
+
+"You hid it?" said Wayman, interrogatively.
+
+"I did."
+
+"Where?"
+
+Mr. Milsom looked at his friend with a glance of profound cunning.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to know--oh, wouldn't you just like to know, Mr.
+Wayman?" he said. "And wouldn't you just dose me with a cup of drugged
+coffee, and cut off to ransack my hiding-place while I was lying
+helpless in your hospitable abode. That's the sort of thing you'd do,
+if I happened to be a born innocent, isn't it, Mr. Wayman? But you see
+I'm not a born innocent, so you won't get the chance of doing anything
+of the kind."
+
+"Don't be a fool," returned Dennis Wayman, in a surly tone. "You'll
+please to remember that one half of Valentine Jernam's money belongs to
+me, and ought to have been in my possession long before this. I was an
+idiot to trust it in your keeping."
+
+"You trusted it in my keeping because you were obliged to do so,"
+answered Black Milsom, "and I owe you no gratitude for your
+confidence. I happened to know a Jew who was willing to give cash for
+the notes and bills of exchange; and you trusted them to me because it
+was the only way to get them turned into cash."
+
+The landlord of the 'Jolly Tar' nodded a surly assent to this rather
+cynical statement.
+
+"I saw my friend the Jew, and made a very decent bargain," resumed
+Milsom. "I hid the money in a convenient place, intending to bring you
+your share at the earliest opportunity. I was lagged that very night,
+and had no chance of touching the cash after I had once stowed it away.
+So, you see, it was no fault of mine that you didn't get the money."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Mr. Wayman. "It has been rather hard lines for me to
+be kept out of it so long. And now you have come back, I suppose you
+can take me at once to the hiding place. I want money very badly just
+now."
+
+"Do you?" said Thomas Milsom, with a sneer. "That's a complaint you're
+rather subject to, isn't it--the want of money? Now, as I've answered
+your questions, perhaps you'll answer mine. Has there been much stir
+down this way while I've been over the water?"
+
+"Very little; things have been as dull as they well could be."
+
+"Ah! so _you'll_ say, of course. Can you tell me whether any one has
+lived in my old place while my back has been turned?"
+
+The landlord of the 'Jolly Tar' started with a gesture of alarm.
+
+"It wasn't _there_ you hid the money, was it?" he asked, eagerly.
+
+"Suppose it was, what then?"
+
+"Why every farthing of it is lost. The place has been taken by a man,
+who has pulled the best part of it down, and rebuilt it. If you hid
+your money _there_, there's little chance of your ever seeing it
+again," said Wayman.
+
+Black Milsom's dark face grew livid, as he started from his chair and
+dragged on the crater coat which he had taken off on entering the room.
+
+"It would be like my luck to lose that money," he said; "it would be
+just like my luck. Come, Wayman. What are you staring at, man?" he
+cried impatiently. "Come."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"To my old place. You can tell me all about the changes at we go. I
+must see to this business at once."
+
+The moon was shining over the masts and rigging in the Pool, and over
+the house-tops of Bermondsey and Wapping, as Black Milsom and his
+companion started on their way to the old house by the water.
+
+They went, as on a former occasion, in that vehicle which Mr. Wayman
+called his trap; and as they drove along the lonely road, across the
+marshy flat by the river, Dennis Wayman told his companion what had
+happened in his absence.
+
+"For a year the house stood empty," he said; "but at the end of that
+time an old sea-captain took a fancy to it because of the water about
+it, and the view of the Pool from the top windows. He bought it, and
+pulled it almost all to pieces, rebuilt it, and I doubt if there is any
+of the old house standing. He has made quite a smart little place of
+it. He's a queer old chap, this Cap'en Duncombe, I'm told, and rather a
+tough customer."
+
+"I'll see the inside of his house, however tough he may be," answered
+Milsom, in a dogged tone. "If he's a tough customer, he'll find me a
+tougher. Has he got any family?"
+
+"One daughter--as pretty a girl as you'll see within twenty miles of
+London!"
+
+"Well, we'll go and have a look at his place to-night. We'd better put
+up your trap at the 'Pilot Boat.'"
+
+Mr. Wayman assented to the wisdom of this arrangement. The "Pilot Boat"
+was a dilapidated-looking, low-roofed little inn, where there were some
+tumble-down stables, which were more often inhabited by bloated grey
+water-rats than by horses. In these stables Mr. Wayman lodged his pony
+and vehicle, while he and Milsom walked on to the cottage.
+
+"Why I shouldn't have known the place!" cried Milsom, as his companion
+pointed to the captain's habitation.
+
+The transformation was, indeed, complete. The dismal dwelling, which
+had looked as if it were, in all truth, haunted by a ghost, had been
+changed into one of the smartest little cottages to be seen in the
+suburbs of eastern London.
+
+The ditch had been narrowed and embanked, and two tiny rustic bridges,
+of fantastical wood-work, spanned its dark water. The dreary pollard-
+willows had vanished, and evergreens occupied their places. The black
+rushes had been exchanged for flowers. A trim little garden appeared
+where all had once been waste ground; and a flag-staff, with a bit of
+bunting, gave a naval aspect to the spot.
+
+All was dark; not one glimmer of light to be seen in any of the
+windows.
+
+The garden was secured by an iron gate, and surrounded by iron rails on
+all sides, except that nearest the river. Here, the only boundary was a
+hedge of laurels, which were still low and thin; and here Dennis Wayman
+and his companion found easy access to the neatly-kept pleasure-ground.
+
+With stealthy footsteps they invaded Captain Duncombe's little domain,
+and walked slowly round the house, examining every door and window as
+they went.
+
+"Is the captain a rich man?" asked Milsom.
+
+"Yes; I believe he's pretty well off--some say uncommonly well off. He
+spent over a thousand pounds on this place."
+
+"Curse him for his pains!" returned Black Milsom, savagely. "He knows
+how to take care of his property. It would be a very clever burglar
+that would get into that house. The windows are all secured with
+outside shutters, that seem as solid as if they were made of iron, and
+the doors don't yield the twentieth part of an inch."
+
+Then, after completing his examination of the house, Milsom exclaimed,
+in the same savage tone--
+
+"Why, the man has swept away every timber of the place I lived in."
+
+"I told you as much," answered Wayman; "I've heard say there was
+nothing left of old Screwton's house but a few solid timbers and a
+stack of chimneys."
+
+Screwton was the name of the miser whose ghost had been supposed to
+haunt the old place.
+
+Black Milsom gave a start as Dennis uttered the words "stack of
+chimneys."
+
+"Oh!" he said, in an altered tone; "so they left the chimney-stack, did
+they?"
+
+Mr. Wayman perceived that change of tone.
+
+"I begin to understand," he said; "you hid that money in one of the
+chimneys."
+
+"Never you mind where I hid it. There's little chance of its being
+found there, after bricklayers pulling the place to pieces. I must get
+into that house, come what may."
+
+"You'll find that difficult," answered Wayman.
+
+"Perhaps. But I'll do it, or my name's not Black Milsom."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Captain Joseph Duncombe, or Joe Duncombe, as he generally called
+himself, was a burly, rosy-faced man of fifty years of age; a hearty,
+honest fellow. He was a widower, with only one child, a daughter, whom
+he idolized.
+
+Any father might have been forgiven for being devotedly fond of such a
+daughter as Rosamond Duncombe.
+
+Rosamond was one of those light-hearted, womanly creatures who seem
+born to make home a paradise. She had a sweet temper; a laugh which was
+like music; a manner which was fascination itself.
+
+When it is also taken into consideration that she had a pretty little
+nose, lips that were fresh and rosy as ripe red cherries, cheeks that
+were like dewy roses, newly-gathered, and large, liquid eyes, of the
+deepest, clearest blue, it must be confessed that Rosamond Duncombe was
+a very charming girl.
+
+If Joseph Duncombe doted on this bright-haired, blue-eyed daughter, his
+love was not unrecompensed. Rosamond idolized her father, whom she
+believed to be the best and noblest of created beings.
+
+Rosamond's remembrance of her mother was but shadowy. She had lost that
+tender protector at a very early age.
+
+Within the last year and a half her father had retired from active
+service, after selling his vessel, the "Vixen," for a large price, so
+goodly a name had she borne in the merchant service.
+
+This retirement of Captain Duncombe's was a sacrifice which he made for
+his beloved daughter.
+
+For himself, the life of a seaman had lost none of its attractions. But
+when he saw his fair young daughter of an age to leave school, he
+determined that she should have a home.
+
+He had made a very comfortable little fortune during five-and-thirty
+years of hard service. But he had never made a sixpence the earning of
+which he need blush to remember. He was known in the service as a model
+of truth and honesty.
+
+Driving about the eastern suburbs of London, he happened one day to
+pass that dreary plot of waste ground on which the miser's tumble-down
+dwelling had been built. It was a pleasant day in April, and the place
+was looking less dreary than usual. The spring sunshine lit up the
+broad river, and the rigging of the ships stood out in sharp black
+lines against a bright blue sky.
+
+A board against the dilapidated palings announced that the ground was
+to be sold.
+
+Captain Duncombe drew up his horse suddenly.
+
+"That's the place for me!" he exclaimed; "close by the old river, whose
+tide carried me down to the sea on my first voyage five-and-thirty
+years ago--within view of the Pool, and all the brave old ships lying
+at anchor. That's the place for me! I'll sweep away that old ramshackle
+hovel, and build a smart water-tight little cottage for my pet and me
+to live in; and I'll stick the Union Jack on a main-top over our heads,
+and at night, when I lie awake and hear the water rippling by, I shall
+fancy I'm still at sea."
+
+A landsman would most likely have stopped to consider that the
+neighbourhood was lonely, the ground damp and marshy, the approach to
+this solitary cross-road through the most disreputable part of London.
+Captain Duncombe considered nothing, except two facts--first the river,
+then the view of the ships in the Pool.
+
+He drove back to Wapping, where he found the house-agent who was
+commissioned to sell old Screwton's dwelling. That gentleman was only
+too glad to get a customer for a place which no one seemed inclined to
+have on any terms. He named his price. The merchant-captain did not
+attempt to make a bargain; but agreed to buy the place, and to give
+ready money for it, as soon as the necessary deeds were drawn up and
+signed. In a week this was done, and the captain found himself
+possessor of a snug little freehold on the banks of the Thames.
+
+He lost no time in transforming the place into an abode of comfort,
+instead of desolation. It was only when the transformation was
+complete, and Captain Duncombe had spent upwards of a thousand pounds
+on his folly, that he became acquainted with the common report about
+the place.
+
+Sailors are proverbially superstitious. After hearing that dismal
+story, Joseph Duncombe was rather inclined to regret the choice he had
+made; but he resolved to keep the history of old Screwton a secret from
+his daughter, though it cost him perpetual efforts to preserve silence
+on this subject.
+
+In spite of his precaution, Rosamond came to know of the ghost.
+Visiting some poor cottagers, about a quarter of a mile from River
+View, she heard the whole story--told her unthinkingly by a foolish old
+woman, who was amongst the recipients of her charity.
+
+Soon after this, the story reached the ears of the two servants--an
+elderly woman, called Mugby, who acted as cook and housekeeper; and a
+smart girl, called Susan Trott.
+
+Mrs. Mugby pretended to ridicule the idea of Screwton's ghost.
+
+"I've lived in a many places, and I've heard tell of a many ghostes,"
+she said; "but never yet did I set eyes on one, which my opinion is
+that, if people will eat cold pork for supper underdone, not to mention
+crackling or seasoning, and bottled stout, which is worse, and lies
+still heavier on the stomach--unless you take about as much ground
+ginger as would lie on a sixpence, and as much carbonate of soda as
+would lie on a fourpenny-bit--and go to bed upon it all directly
+afterwards, they will see no end of ghostes. I have never trifled with
+my digestion, and no ghostes have I ever seen."
+
+The girl, Susan Trott, was by no means so strong-minded. The idea of
+Miser Screwton's ghost haunted her perpetually of an evening; and she
+would no more have gone out into the captain's pretty little garden
+after dark, than she would have walked straight to the mouth of a
+cannon.
+
+Rosamond Duncombe affected to echo the heroic sentiments of the
+housekeeper, Mrs. Mugby. There never had been such things as ghosts,
+and never would be; and all the foolish stories that were told of
+phantoms and apparitions, had their sole foundation in the imaginations
+of the people who told them.
+
+Such was the state of things in the household of Captain Duncombe at
+the time of Black Milsom's return from Van Diemen's Land.
+
+It was within two nights after that return, that an event occurred,
+never to be forgotten by any member of Joseph Duncombe's household.
+
+The evening was cold, but fine; the moon, still at its full, shone
+bright and clear upon the neat garden of River View Cottage. Captain
+Duncombe and his daughter were alone in their comfortable sitting-room,
+playing the Captain's favourite game of backgammon, before a cheery
+fire. The housekeeper, Mrs. Mugby, had complained all day of a touch of
+rheumatism, and had gone to bed after the kitchen tea, leaving Susan
+Trott, the smart little parlour-maid, to carry in the pretty pink and
+gold china tea-service, and hissing silver tea-kettle, to Miss Rosamond
+and her papa in the sitting-room.
+
+Thus it was that, after having removed the tea-tray, and washed the
+pretty china cups and saucers, Susan Trott seated herself before the
+fire, and set herself to trim a new cap, which was designed for the
+especial bewilderment of a dashing young baker.
+
+The dashing young baker had a habit of lingering at the gate of River
+View Cottage a good deal longer than was required for the transaction
+of his business; and the dashing young baker had more than once hinted
+at an honourable attachment for Miss Susan Trott.
+
+Thinking of the baker, and of all the tender things and bright promises
+of a happy future which he had murmured in her ear, as they walked home
+from church on the last Sunday evening, Susan found the solitary hours
+pass quickly enough. She looked up suddenly as the clock struck ten,
+and found that she had let the fire burn out.
+
+It was rather an awful sensation to be alone in the lower part of the
+house after every one else had gone to bed; but Susan Trott was very
+anxious to finish the making of the new cap; so she went back to the
+kitchen, and seated herself once more at the table.
+
+She had scarcely taken up her scissors to cut an end of ribbon, when a
+low, stealthy tapping sounded on the outer wooden shutter of the window
+behind her.
+
+Susan gave a little shriek of terror, and dropped the scissors as if
+they had been red-hot. What could that awful sound mean at ten o'clock
+at night?
+
+For some moments the little parlour-maid was completely overcome by
+terror. Then, all at once, her thoughts flew back to the person whose
+image had occupied her mind all that evening. Was it not just possible
+that the dashing young baker might have something very particular to
+say to her, and that he had come in this mysterious manner to say it?
+
+Again the same low, stealthy tapping sounded on the shutter.
+
+This time Susan Trott plucked up a spirit, took the bright brass
+candlestick in her hand, and went to the little door leading from the
+scullery to the back garden.
+
+She opened the door and peered cautiously out. No one was to be seen--
+that tiresome baker was indulging in some practical joke, no doubt, and
+trying to frighten her.
+
+Susan was determined not to be frightened by her sweet-heart's tricks,
+so she tripped boldly out into the garden, still carrying the brass
+candlestick.
+
+At the first step the wind blew out the candle; but, of course, that
+was of very little consequence when the bright moonlight made
+everything as clearly visible as at noon.
+
+"I know who it is," cried Susan, in a voice intended to reach the
+baker; "and it's a great shame to try and frighten a poor girl when
+she's sitting all alone by herself."
+
+She had scarcely uttered the words when the candlestick fell from her
+extended hand, and she stood rooted to the gravel pathway--a statue of
+fear.
+
+Exactly opposite to her, slowly advancing towards the open door of the
+scullery, she saw an awful figure--whose description was too familiar
+to her.
+
+There it was. The ghost--the shadowy image of the man who had destroyed
+himself in that house. A tall, spectral figure, robed in a long garment
+of grey serge; a scarlet handkerchief twisted round the head rendered
+the white face whiter by contrast with it.
+
+As this awful figure approached, Susan Trott stepped backwards on the
+grass, leaving the pathway clear for the dreadful visitant.
+
+The ghostly form stalked on with slow and solemn steps, and entered the
+house by the scullery door. For some minutes Susan remained standing on
+the grass, horror-struck, powerless to move. Then all at once feminine
+curiosity got the better even of terror, and she followed the phantom
+figure into the house.
+
+From the kitchen doorway she beheld the figure standing on the hearth,
+his arms stretched above the fireplace, as if groping for something in
+the chimney.
+
+Doubtless this had been the miser's hiding-place for his hoarded gold,
+and the ghost returned to the spot where the living man had been
+accustomed to conceal his treasures.
+
+Susan darted across the hall, and ran upstairs to her master's room.
+She knocked loudly on the door, crying,--
+
+"The ghost, master! the ghost! the old miser's ghost is in the
+kitchen!"
+
+"What?" roared the captain, starting suddenly from his peaceful
+slumbers.
+
+The girl repeated her awful announcement. The captain sprang out of
+bed, dressed himself in trousers and dressing-gown, and ran down-
+stairs, the girl close behind him.
+
+They were just in time to see the figure, in the red head-gear and long
+grey dressing-gown, slowly stalking from the scullery door.
+
+The captain followed the phantom into the garden; but held himself at a
+respectful distance from the figure, as it slowly paced along the
+smooth gravel pathway leading towards the laurel hedge.
+
+The figure reached the low boundary that divided the garden from the
+river bank, crossed it, and vanished amongst the thick white mists that
+rose from the water.
+
+Joseph Duncombe trembled. A ghost was just the one thing which could
+strike terror to the seaman's bold heart.
+
+When the figure had vanished, Captain Duncombe went to the spot where
+it had passed out of the garden.
+
+Here he found the young laurels beaten and trampled down, as if by the
+heavy feet of human intruders.
+
+This was strange.
+
+He then went to the kitchen, accompanied by Susan Trott, who, although
+shivering like an aspen tree, had just sufficient strength of mind to
+find a lucifer and light her candle.
+
+By the light of this candle Captain Buncombe examined the kitchen.
+
+On the hearth, at his feet, he saw something gleaming in the uncertain
+light. He stooped to pick up this object, and found that it was a
+curious gold coin--a foreign coin, bent in a peculiar manner.
+
+This was even yet more strange.
+
+The captain put the coin in his pocket.
+
+"I'll take good care of this, my girl," he said. "It isn't often a
+ghost leaves anything behind him."
+
+                    *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+                           A TERRIBLE RESOLVE.
+
+When the hawthorns were blooming in the woods of Raynham, a new life
+dawned in the stately chambers of the castle.
+
+A daughter was born to the beautiful widow-lady--a sweet consoler in
+the hour of her loneliness and desolation. Honoria Eversleigh lifted
+her heart to heaven, and rendered thanks for the priceless treasure
+which had been bestowed upon her. She had kept her word. From the hour
+of her husband's death she had never quitted Raynham Castle. She had
+lived alone, unvisited, unknown; content to dwell in stately solitude,
+rarely extending her walks and drives beyond the boundary of the park
+and forest.
+
+Some few of the county gentry would have visited her; but she would not
+consent to be visited by a few. Honoria Eversleigh's was a proud
+spirit; and until the whole county should acknowledge her innocence,
+she would receive no one.
+
+"Let them think of me or talk of me as they please," she said; "I can
+live my own life without them."
+
+Thus the long winter months passed by, and Honoria was alone in that
+abode whose splendour must have seemed cold and dreary to the
+friendless woman.
+
+But when she held her infant in her arms all was changed She looked
+down upon the baby-girl, and murmured softly--
+
+"Your life shall be bright and peaceful, dearest, whatever mine may be.
+The future looks bleak and terrible for me; but for you, sweet one, it
+may be bright and fair."
+
+The young mother loved her child with a passionate intensity; but even
+that love could not exclude darker passions from her breast.
+
+There was much that was noble in the nature of this woman; but there
+was also much that was terrible. From her childhood she had been gifted
+with a power of intellect--a strength of will--that lifted her high
+above the common ranks of womanhood.
+
+A fatal passion had taken possession of her soul after the untimely
+death of Sir Oswald; and that passion was a craving for revenge. She
+had been deeply wronged, and she could not forgive. She did not even
+try to forgive. She believed that revenge was a kind of duty which she
+owed, not only to herself, but to the noble husband whom she had lost.
+
+The memory of that night of anguish in Yarborough Tower, and that still
+darker hour of shame and despair in which Sit Oswald had refused to
+believe her innocent, was never absent from the mind of Honoria
+Eversleigh. She brooded upon these dark memories. Time could not lessen
+their bitterness. Even the soft influence of her infant's love could
+not banish those fatal recollections.
+
+Time passed. The child grew and flourished, beautiful to her mother's
+enraptured eyes; and yet, even by the side of that fair baby's face
+arose the dark image of Victor Carrington.
+
+For a long time the county people had kept close watch upon the
+proceedings of the lady at the castle.
+
+The county people discovered that Lady Eversleigh never left Raynham;
+that she devoted herself to the rearing of her child as entirely as if
+she had been the humblest peasant-woman; and that she expended more
+money upon solid works of charity than had ever before been so spent by
+any member of the Eversleigh family, though that family had been
+distinguished by much generosity and benevolence.
+
+The county people shrugged their shoulders contemptuously. They could
+not believe in the goodness of this woman, whose parentage no one knew,
+and whom every one had condemned.
+
+She is playing a part, they thought; she wishes to impress us with the
+idea that she is a persecuted martyr--a suffering angel; and she hopes
+thus to regain her old footing amongst us, and queen it over the whole
+county, as she did when that poor infatuated Sir Oswald first brought
+her to Raynham. This was what the county people thought; until one day
+the tidings flew far and wide that Lady Eversleigh had left the castle
+for the Continent, and that she intended to remain absent for some
+years.
+
+This seemed very strange; but what seemed still more strange, was the
+fact that the devoted mother was not accompanied by her child.
+
+The little girl, Gertrude, so named after the mother of the late
+baronet, remained at Raynham under the care of two persons.
+
+These two guardians were Captain Copplestone, and a widow lady of forty
+years of age, Mrs. Morden, a person of unblemished integrity, who had
+been selected as protectress and governess of the young heiress.
+
+The child was at this time two and a half years of age. Very young, she
+seemed, to be thus left by a mother who had appeared to idolize her.
+
+The county people shook their heads. They told each other that Lady
+Eversleigh was a hypocrite and an actress. She had never really loved
+her child--she had played the part of a sorrowing widow and a devoted
+mother for two years and a half, in the hope that by this means she
+would regain her position in society.
+
+And now, finding that this was impossible, she had all of a sudden
+grown tired of playing her part, and had gone off to the Continent to
+spend her money, and enjoy her life after her own fashion.
+
+This was what the world said of Honoria Eversleigh; but if those who
+spoke of her could have possessed themselves of her secrets, they would
+have discovered something very different from that which they imagined.
+
+Lady Eversleigh left the castle in the early part of November
+accompanied only by her maid, Jane Payland.
+
+A strange time of the year in which to start for the Continent, people
+said. It seemed still more strange that a woman of Lady Eversleigh's
+rank and fortune should go on a Continental journey with no other
+attendant than a maid-servant.
+
+If the eyes of the world could have followed Lady Eversleigh, they
+would have made startling discoveries.
+
+While it was generally supposed that the baronet's widow was on her way
+to Rome or Naples, two plainly-dressed women took possession of
+unpretending lodgings in Percy Street, Tottenham Court Road.
+
+The apartments were taken by a lady who called herself Mrs. Eden, and
+who required them only for herself and maid. The apartments consisted
+of two large drawing-rooms, two bedrooms on the floor above, and a
+dressing-room adjoining the best bedroom.
+
+The proprietor of the house was a Belgian merchant, called Jacob
+Mulck--a sedate old bachelor, who took a great deal of snuff, and
+Disquieted himself very little about the world in general, so long as
+life went smoothly for himself.
+
+The remaining occupant of the house was a medical student, who rented
+one of the rooms on the third floor. Another room on the same floor was
+to let.
+
+Such was the arrangement of the house when Mrs. Eden and her maid took
+possession of their apartments.
+
+Mr. Jacob Mulck thought he had never seen such a beautiful woman as his
+new lodger, when he entered her apartment, to ascertain whether she was
+satisfied with the accommodation provided for her.
+
+She was sitting in the full light of an unshaded lamp as he entered the
+room. Her black silk dress was the perfection of simplicity; its sombre
+hues relieved only by the white collar which encircled her slender
+throat. Her pale face looked of an ivory whiteness, in contrast to the
+dark, deep eyes, and arched brows of sombre brown.
+
+The lady pronounced herself perfectly satisfied with all the
+arrangements that had been made for her comfort.
+
+"I am in London on business of importance," she said; "and shall,
+therefore, receive very little company; but I may have to hold many
+interviews with men of business, and I trust that my affairs may not be
+made the subject of curiosity or gossip, either in this house or
+outside it."
+
+Mr. Mulck declared that he was the last person in the world to talk;
+and that his two servants were both elderly women, the very pink of
+steadiness and propriety.
+
+Having said this, he took his leave; and as he did so, stole one more
+glance at the beautiful stranger.
+
+She had fallen into an attitude which betrayed complete abstraction of
+mind. Her elbow rested on the table by her side; her eyes were shaded
+by her hand.
+
+Upon that white, slender hand, Jacob Mulck saw diamonds such as are not
+often seen upon the fingers of the inhabitants of Percy Street. Mr.
+Mulck occasionally dealt in diamonds; and he knew enough about them to
+perceive at a glance that the rings worn by his lodger were worth a
+small fortune.
+
+"Humph!" muttered Mr. Mulck, as he returned to his comfortable sitting-
+room; "those diamonds tell a tale. There's something mysterious about
+this lodger of mine. However, my rent will be safe--that's one
+comfort."
+
+While the landlord was musing thus, the lodger was employed in a manner
+which might well have awakened his curiosity, could he have beheld her
+at that moment.
+
+She had fallen on her knees before a low easy-chair--her face buried in
+her hands, her slender frame shaken by passionate sobs.
+
+"My child!" she exclaimed, in almost inarticulate murmurs; "my beloved,
+my idol!--it is so bitter to be absent from you! so bitter! so bitter!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Early on the morning after her arrival in London, Honoria Eversleigh,
+otherwise Mrs. Eden, went in a cab to the office of an individual
+called Andrew Larkspur, who occupied dingy chambers in Lyon's Inn.
+
+The science of the detective officer had not, at that time, reached its
+present state of perfection; but even then there were men who devoted
+their lives to the work of private investigations, and the elucidation
+of the strange secrets and mysteries of social life.
+
+Such a man was Andrew Larkspur, late Bow Street runner, now hanger-on
+of the new detective police. He was renowned for his skill in the
+prosecution of secret service; and it was rumoured that he had amassed
+a considerable fortune by his mysterious employment.
+
+He was not a man who openly sought employers. His services were in
+great request among a certain set of people, and he had little idle
+time on his hands. His name was painted in dirty white letters on the
+black door of his dingy chambers on a fourth story. On this door he
+called himself, "_Andrew Larkspur, Commission Agent_."
+
+It will be seen by-and-by how Honoria Eversleigh had become acquainted
+with the fact of this man's existence.
+
+She went alone to seek an interview with him. She had found herself
+compelled to confide in Jane Payland to a very considerable extent; but
+she did not tell that attendant more than she was obliged to tell of
+the dark business which had brought her to London.
+
+She was fortunate enough to find Mr. Andrew Larkspur alone, and
+disengaged. He was a little, sandy-haired man, of some sixty years of
+age, spare and wizened, with a sharp nose, like a beak, and thin, long
+arms, ending in large, claw-like hands, that were like the talons of a
+bird of prey. Altogether, Mr. Lark spur had very much of the aspect of
+an elderly vulture which had undergone partial transformation into a
+human being.
+
+Honoria was in no way repelled by the aspect of this man. She saw that
+he was clever; and fancied him the kind of person who would be likely
+to serve her faithfully.
+
+"I have been informed that you are skilled in the prosecution of secret
+investigations," she said; "and I wish to secure your services
+immediately. Are you at liberty to devote yourself to the task I wish
+to be performed by you?"
+
+Mr. Larkspur was a man who rarely answered even the simplest question
+until he had turned the subject over in his mind, and carefully studied
+every word that had been said to him.
+
+He was a man who made caution the ruling principle of his life, and he
+looked at every creature he encountered in the course of his career as
+an individual more or less likely to take him in.
+
+The boast of Mr. Larkspur was, that he never had been taken in.
+
+"I've been very near it more than once," he said to his particular
+friends, when he unbent so far as to be confidential.
+
+"I've had some very narrow escapes of being taken in and done for as
+neatly as you please. There are some artful dodgers, whose artful
+dodging the oldest hand can scarcely guard against; but I'm proud to
+say not one of those artful dodgers has ever yet been able to get the
+better of me. Perhaps my time is to come, and I shall be bamboozled in
+my old age."
+
+Before replying to Honoria's inquiry, Andrew Larkspur studied her from
+head to foot, with eyes whose sharp scrutiny would have been very
+unpleasant to anyone who had occasion for concealment.
+
+The result of the scrutiny seemed to be tolerably satisfactory, for Mr.
+Larkspur at last replied to his visitor's question in a tone which for
+him was extremely gracious.
+
+"You want to know whether you can engage my services," he said; "that
+depends upon circumstances."
+
+"Upon what circumstances?"
+
+"Whether you will be able to pay me. My hands are very full just now,
+and I've about as much business as I can possibly get through."
+
+"I shall want you to abandon all such business, and to devote yourself
+exclusively to my service," said Honoria.
+
+"The deuce you will!" exclaimed Mr. Larkspur. "Do you happen to know
+what my time is worth?"
+
+Mr. Larkspur looked positively outraged by the idea that any one could
+suppose they could secure a monopoly of his valuable services.
+
+"That is a question with which I have no concern," answered Honoria,
+coolly. "The work which I require you to do will most likely occupy all
+your time, and entirely absorb your attention. I am quite prepared to
+pay you liberally for your services, and I shall leave you to name your
+own terms. I shall rely on your honour as a man of business that those
+terms will not be exorbitant, and I shall accede to them without
+further question."
+
+"Humph!" muttered the suspicious Andrew. "Do you know, ma'am, that
+sounds almost too liberal? I'm an old stager, ma'am, and have seen a
+good deal of life, and I have generally found that people who are ready
+to promise so much beforehand, are apt not to give anything when their
+work has been done."
+
+"The fact that you have been cheated by swindlers is no reason why
+should insult me," answered Honoria. "I wished to secure your services;
+but I cannot continue an interview in which I find my offers met by
+insolent objections. There are, no doubt, other people in London who
+can assist me in the business I have in hand. I will wish you good
+morning."
+
+She rose, and was about to leave the room. Mr. Larkspur began to think
+that he had been rather too cautious; and that perhaps, this plainly-
+attired lady might be a very good customer.
+
+"You must excuse me, ma'am," he said, "if I'm rather a suspicious old
+chap. You see, it's the nature of my business to make a man suspicious.
+If you can pay me for my time, I shall be willing to devote myself to
+your service; for I'd much rather give my whole mind to one business,
+than have ever so many odds and ends of affairs jostling each other in
+my brain. But the fact of it is, ladies very seldom have any idea what
+business is: however clever they may be in other matters--playing the
+piano, working bead-mats and worsted slippers, and such like. Now, I
+dare say you'll open your eyes uncommon wide when I tell you that my
+business is worth nigh upon sixteen pound a week to me, taking good
+with bad; and though you mayn't be aware of it, ma'am, having, no
+doubt, given your mind exclusive to Berlin wool, and such like, sixteen
+pound a week is eight hundred a year."
+
+Mr. Larkspur, though not much given to surprise, was somewhat
+astonished to perceive that his lady-visitor did not open her eyes any
+wider on receiving this intelligence.
+
+"If you have earned eight hundred a year by your profession," she
+returned, quietly, "I will give you twenty pounds a week for your
+exclusive services, and that will be a thousand and forty pounds a
+year."
+
+This time, Andrew Larkspur was still more surprised, though he was so
+completely master of himself as to conceal the smallest evidence of his
+astonishment.
+
+Here was a woman who had not devoted her mind to Berlin wool-work, and
+whose arithmetic was irreproachable!
+
+"Humph!" he muttered, too cautious to betray any appearance of
+eagerness to accept an advantageous offer. "A thousand a year is very
+well in its way; but how long is it to last? If I turn my back upon
+this business here, it'll all tumble to pieces, and then, where shall I
+be when you have done with me?"
+
+"I will engage you for one year, certain."
+
+"That won't do, ma'am; you must make it three years, certain."
+
+"Very well; I am willing to do that," answered Honoria. "I shall, in
+all probability, require your services for three years."
+
+Mr. Larkspur regretted that he had not asked for an engagement of six
+years.
+
+"Do you agree to those terms?" asked Honoria.
+
+"Yes," answered the detective, with well-assumed indifference; "I
+suppose I may as well accept those terms, though I dare say I might
+make more money by leaving myself free to give my attention to anything
+that might turn up. And now, how am I to be paid? You see, you're quite
+a stranger to me."
+
+"I am aware of that, and I do not ask you to trust me," replied
+Honoria. "I will pay you eighty pounds a month."
+
+"Eighty pounds a month of four weeks," interposed the cautious
+Larkspur; "eighty pounds for the lunar month. That makes a difference,
+you know, and it's just as well to be particular."
+
+"Certainly!" answered Lady Eversleigh, with a half-contemptuous smile.
+"You shall not be cheated. You shall receive your payment monthly, in
+advance; and if you require security for the future, I can refer you to
+my bankers. My name is Mrs. Eden--Harriet Eden, and I bank with Messrs.
+Coutts."
+
+The detective rubbed his hands with a air of gratification.
+
+"Nothing could be more straightforward and business-like," he said.
+"And when shall you require my services, Mrs. Eden?"
+
+"Immediately. There is an apartment vacant in the house in which I
+lodge. I should wish you to occupy that apartment, as you would thus be
+always at hand when I had any communication to make to you. Would that
+be possible?"
+
+"Well, yes, ma'am, it would certainly be possible," replied Mr.
+Larkspur, after the usual pause for reflection; "but I'm afraid I
+should be obliged to make that an extra."
+
+"You shall be paid whatever you require."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am. You see, when a person of my age has been accustomed
+to live in one place for a long time, it goes against him to change his
+habits. However, to oblige you, I'll get together my little traps, and
+shift my quarter to the lodging you speak of."
+
+"Good. The house in question is No. 90, Percy Street, Tottenham Court
+Road."
+
+Mr. Larkspur was surprised to find that a lady who could afford to
+offer him more than a thousand a year, was nevertheless contented to
+live in such a middle-class situation as Percy Street.
+
+"Can you go to the new lodging to-morrow?" asked Honoria.
+
+"Well, no, ma'am; you must give me a week, if you please. I must wind
+up some of the affairs I have been working upon, you see, and hand over
+my clients to other people; and I must set my books in order. I've a
+few very profitable affairs in hand, I assure you. There's one which
+might have turned out a great prize, if I had been only able to carry
+it through. But those sort of things all depend on time, you see,
+ma'am. They're very slow. I have been about this one, off and on, for
+over three years; and very little has come of it yet."
+
+The detective was turning over one of his books mechanically as he said
+this. It was a large ledger, filled with entries, in a queer, cramped
+handwriting, dotted about, here and there, with mysterious marks in red
+and blue ink. Mr. Larkspur stopped suddenly, as he turned the leaves,
+his attention arrested by one particular page.
+
+"Here it is," he said; "the very business I was speaking of. Five
+hundred pounds for the discovery of the murderer, or murderers, of
+Valentine Jernam, captain and owner of the 'Pizarro', whose body was
+found in the river, below Wapping, on the third of April, 1836. That's
+a very queer business, that is, and I've never had leisure to get very
+deep into the rights and wrongs of it yet."
+
+Mr. Larkspur looked up presently, and saw that his visitor's face had
+grown white to the very lips.
+
+"You knew Captain Jernam?" he said.
+
+"No--yes, I knew him slightly; and the idea of his murder is very
+shocking to me," answered Honoria, struggling with her agitation. "Do
+you expect to discover the secret of that dreadful crime?"
+
+"Well, I don't know about that," said Andrew Larkspur, with the
+careless and business-like tone of a man to whom a murder is an
+incident of trade. "You see, when these things have gone by for a long
+time, without anything being found out about them, the secret generally
+comes out by accident, if it ever comes out at all. There are cases in
+which the secret never does come out; but there are not many such
+cases. There's a deal in accident; and a man of my profession must be
+always on the look-out for accident, or he'll lose a great many
+chances. You see those red marks stuck here and there, among all that
+writing in blue ink. Those red marks are set against the facts that
+seem pretty clear and straightforward; the blue marks are set against
+facts that seem dark. You see, there's more blue marks than red. That
+means that it's a dark case."
+
+Honoria Eversleigh bent over the old man's shoulder, and read a few
+fragmentary lines, here and there, in the page beneath her.
+
+"_Seen at the 'Jolly Tar', Ratcliff Highway, a low public-house
+frequented by sailors. Seen with two men, Dennis Wayman, landlord of
+the 'Jolly Tar,' and a man called Milson, or Milsom. The man Milson, or
+Milsom, has since disappeared. Is believed to have been transported,
+but is not to be heard of abroad._"
+
+A little below these entries was another, which seemed to Honoria
+Eversleigh to be inscribed in letters of fire:--
+
+"Valentine Jernam was known to have fallen in love with a girl who
+sang at the 'Jolly Tar' public-house, and it is supposed that he was
+lured to his death by the agency of this girl. She is described as
+about seventeen years of age, very handsome, dark eyes, dark hair--"
+
+Mr. Larkspur closed the volume before Lady Eversleigh could read
+further. She returned to her seat, still terribly pale, and with a
+sickening pain at her heart.
+
+All the shame and anguish of her early life, the unspeakable horror of
+her girlhood, had been brought vividly back to her by the perusal of
+the memoranda in the detective's ledger.
+
+"I mean to try my luck yet at getting at the bottom of the mystery,"
+said Andrew Larkspur. "Five hundred pounds reward is worth working for.
+I--I've a notion that I shall lay my hands upon Valentine Jernam's
+murderer sooner or later."
+
+"Who offers the reward?" asked Honoria.
+
+"Government offers one hundred of it; George Jernam four hundred more."
+
+"Who is George Jernam?"
+
+"The captain's younger brother--a merchant-captain himself--the owner
+of several vessels, and, I believe, a rich man. He came here,
+accompanied by a queer-looking fellow, called Joyce Harker--a kind of
+clerk, I believe--who was very much attached to the murdered man."
+
+"Yes--yes, I know," murmured Honoria.
+
+She had been so terribly agitated by the mention of Valentine Jernam's
+name, that her presence of mind had entirely abandoned her.
+
+"You knew that humpbacked clerk!" exclaimed Mr. Larkspur.
+
+"I have heard of him," she faltered.
+
+There was a pause, during which Lady Eversleigh recovered in some
+degree from the painful emotion caused by memories so unexpectedly
+evoked.
+
+"I may as well give you some preliminary instructions to-day," she
+said, re-assuming her business-like tone, "and I will write you a
+cheque for the first month of your service."
+
+Mr. Larkspur lost no time in providing his visitor with pen and ink.
+She took a cheque-book from her pocket, and filled in a cheque for
+eighty pounds in Andrew Larkspur's favour.
+
+The cheque was signed "Harriet Eden."
+
+"When you present that, you will be able to ascertain that your future
+payments will be secure," she said.
+
+She handed the cheque to Mr. Larkspur, who looked at it with an air of
+assumed indifference, and slipped it carelessly into his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+"And now, ma'am," he said, "I am ready to receive your instructions."
+
+"In the first place," said Honoria, "I must beg that you will on no
+occasion attempt to pry into my motives, whatever I may require of
+you."
+
+"That, ma'am, is understood. I have nothing to do with the motives of
+my employers, and I care nothing about them."
+
+"I am glad to hear that," replied Honoria. "The business in which I
+require your aid is a very strange one; and the time may come when you
+will be half-inclined to believe me mad. But, whatever I do, however
+mysterious my actions may be, think always that a deeply rooted purpose
+lies beneath them; and that every thought of my brain--every trivial
+act of my life, will shape itself to one end."
+
+"I ask no questions, ma'am."
+
+"And you will serve me faithfully--blindly?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am; both faithfully and blindly."
+
+"I think I may trust you," replied Honoria, very earnestly "And now I
+will speak freely. There are two men upon whose lives I desire to place
+a spy. I want to know every act of their lives, every word they speak,
+every secret of their hearts--I wish to be an unseen witness of their
+lonely hours, an impalpable guest at every gathering in which they
+mingle. I want to be near them always in spirit, if not in bodily
+presence. I want to track them step by step, let their ways be never so
+dark and winding. This is the purpose of my life; but I am a woman--
+powerless to act freely--bound and fettered as women only are fettered.
+Do you begin to understand now what I require of you."
+
+"I think I do."
+
+"Mr. Larkspur," continued Honoria, with energy. "I want you to be my
+second self. I want you to be the shadow of these two men. Wherever
+they go, you must follow--in some shape or other you must haunt them,
+by night and day. It is, of course, a difficult task which I demand of
+you. You have to decide whether it is impossible."
+
+"Impossible! ma'am--not a bit of it. Nothing is impossible to a man who
+has served twenty years' apprenticeship as a Bow Street runner. You
+don't know what we old Bow Street hands can do when we're on our
+mettle. I've heard a deal of talk about Fooshay, that was at the head
+of Bonaparty's police--but bless your heart, ma'am, Fooshay was a fool
+to us. I've done as much and more than what you talk of before to-day.
+All you have to do is to give me the names and descriptions of the two
+men I am to watch, and leave all the rest to me."
+
+"One of these two men is Sir Reginald Eversleigh, Baronet, a man of
+small fortune--a bachelor, occupying lodgings in Villiers Street. I
+have reason to believe that he is dissipated, a gamester, and a
+reprobate."
+
+"Good," said Mr. Larkspur, who jotted down an occasional note in a
+greasy little pocket-book.
+
+"The second person is a medical practitioner, called Victor
+Carrington--a Frenchman, but a perfect master of the English language,
+and a man whose youth has been spent in England. The two men are firm
+friends and constant associates. In keeping watch upon the actions of
+one, you cannot fail to see much of the other.
+
+"Very good, ma'am; you may make your mind easy," answered the
+detective, as coolly as if he had just received the most common-place
+order.
+
+He escorted Honoria to the door of his chambers, and left her to
+descend the dingy staircase as best as she might.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+                          WAITING AND WATCHING.
+
+Valentine Jernam's younger brother, George, had journeyed to and fro on
+the high seas five years since the murder of the brave and generous-
+hearted sea-captain.
+
+Things had gone well with Captain George Jernam, and in the whole of
+the trading navy there were few richer men than the owner of the
+'Pizarro', 'Stormy Petrel', and 'Albatross'.
+
+With these three vessels constantly afloat. George Jernam was on the
+high road to fortune.
+
+His life had not been by any means uneventful since the death of his
+brother, though that mysterious calamity had taken away the zest from
+his success for many a day, and though he no longer cherished the same
+visions of a happy home in England, when his circumstances should have
+become so prosperous as to enable him to "settle down." This same
+process of settling down was one by no means congenial to George
+Jernam's disposition at any time; and he was far less likely to take to
+it kindly now, than when "dear old Val"--as he began to call his
+brother in his thoughts once more, when the horror of the murder had
+begun to wear off, and the lost friend seemed again familiar--had been
+the prospective sharer of the retirement which was to be so tranquil,
+so comfortable, and so well-earned. It had no attraction for George at
+all; for many a long day after Joyce Harker's letter had reached him he
+never dwelt upon it; he set his face hard against his grief, and worked
+on, as men must work, fortunately for them, under all chances and
+changes of this mortal life, until the last change of all. At first,
+the thirst for revenge upon his brother's murderers had been hot and
+strong upon George Jernam--almost as hot and strong as it had been, and
+continued to be, upon Joyce Harker; but the natures of the men differed
+materially. George Jernam had neither the dogged persistency nor the
+latent fierceness of his dead brother's friend and protege; and the
+long, slow, untiring watching to which Harker devoted himself would
+have been a task so uncongenial as to be indeed impossible to the more
+open, more congenial temperament of the merchant-captain.
+
+He had responded warmly to Harker's letters; he had more than
+sanctioned the outlay which he had made, in money paid and money
+promised, to the skilled detective to whom Harker had entrusted the
+investigation of the murder of Valentine Jernam. He had awaited every
+communication with anxious interest and suspense, and he had never
+landed after a voyage, and received the letters which awaited his
+arrival, without a keen revival of the first sharp pang that had smote
+him with the tidings of his brother's fate.
+
+Happily George Jernam was a busy man, and his life was full of variety,
+adventure, and incident. In time he began, not to forget, indeed, but
+to remember less frequently and less painfully, the manner of his
+brother's death, and to regard the fixed purpose of Joyce Harker's life
+as more or less of a harmless delusion. A practical man in his own way,
+George Jernam had very vague ideas concerning the lives of the criminal
+classes, and the faculties and facilities of the science of detection;
+and the hope of finding out the secret of his brother's fate had long
+ago deserted him.
+
+Only once had he and Joyce Harker met since the murder of Valentine
+Jernam. George had landed a cargo at Hamburg, and had given his
+brother's friend rendezvous there. Then the two men had talked of all
+that had been done so vainly, and all that remained to be done, Harker
+hoped, so effectively. Joyce had never been able to bring his
+suspicions concerning Black Milsom to the test of proof. Unwearied
+search had been made for the old man who had played the part of
+grandfather to the beautiful ballad-singer; but it had been wholly
+ineffectual. All that could be ascertained concerning him was, that he
+had died in a hospital, in a country town on the great northern road,
+and that the girl had wandered away from there, and never more been
+heard of. Of Black Milsom, Joyce Harker had never lost sight, until his
+career received a temporary check by the sentence of transportation,
+which had sent the ruffian out of the country. But all efforts of the
+faithful watcher had failed to discover the missing link in the
+evidence which connected Black Milsom with Valentine Jernam's death.
+All his watching and questioning--all his silent noting of the idle
+talk around him--all his eager endeavour to take Dennis Wayman
+unawares, failed to enable him to obtain evidence of that one fact of
+which he was convinced--the fact that Valentine Jernam had been at the
+public-house in Ratcliff Highway on the day of his death.
+
+When the inutility of his endeavours became clear to Joyce Harker, he
+gave up his lodging in Wayman's house, and located himself in modest
+apartments at Poplar, where he transacted a great deal of business for
+George Jernam, and maintained a constant, though unprofitable,
+communication with the detective officer to whom he had confided the
+task of investigation, and who was no other than Mr. Andrew Larkspur.
+
+In one of the earliest of the numerous letters which George Jernam
+addressed to Harker, after the death of Valentine, the merchant-captain
+had given his zealous friend and assistant certain instructions
+concerning the old aunt to whom the two desolate boys had owed so much
+in their ill-treated childhood, and whom they had so well and
+constantly requited in their prosperous manhood. These instructions
+included a request that Joyce Harker would visit Susan Jernam in
+person, and furnish George with details relative to that venerable
+lady's requirements, looks, health, and general circumstances.
+
+"I should have seen the good old soul, you know," wrote George, "when I
+was to have seen poor Val; but it didn't please God that the one thing
+should come off any more than the other, and it can't be helped. But I
+should like you to run down to Allanbay and look her up, and let her
+know that she is neither neglected nor forgotten by her vagabond
+nephew."
+
+So Joyce Harker went down to the Devonshire village, and introduced
+himself to George Jernam's aunt. The old lady was much altered since
+she had last welcomed a visitor to her pretty, cheerful cottage, and
+had listened with simple surprise and pleasure to her nephew
+Valentine's tales of the sea, and they had talked together over the
+troublous days of his unhappy childhood. The untimely and tragic death
+of the merchant-captain had afflicted her deeply, and had filled her
+mind with sentiments which, though they differed in degree, closely
+resembled in their nature those of Joyce Harker. The determination to
+be revenged upon the murderers of "her boy" which Harker expressed,
+found a ready echo in the breast of his hearer, and she thanked him
+warmly for his devotion to the master he had lost. Strong mutual liking
+grew up between these two, and when her visitor left her--after having
+carried out all George's wishes in respect to her, on the scale of
+liberality which the grateful nephew had dictated--Susan Jernam gave
+him a cordial invitation to pass any leisure time he might have at the
+cottage, though, as she remarked--
+
+"I am not very lively company, Mr. Harker, for you or anybody, for I
+can't talk of anything but George and poor Valentine."
+
+"And I don't care to talk of much else either, Mrs. Jernam," said
+Harker, in reply; "so, you see, we couldn't possibly be better company
+for each other."
+
+Thus it happened that a second tie between George Jernam and Joyce
+Harker arose, in the person of the sole surviving relative of the
+former, and that Joyce had made three visits to the pretty sea-side
+village in which the childhood of his dead friend and his living patron
+had been passed, before he and George Jernam met again on English
+ground.
+
+When at length that long-deferred meeting took place, Valentine
+Jernam's murder was a mystery rather more than five years old, and Mr.
+Andrew Larkspur had made no progress towards its solution. He had been
+obliged to acknowledge to Joyce Harker that he had not struck the right
+trail, and to confess that he had begun to despond. The disappearance
+of Black Milsom from among the congenial society of thieves and
+ruffians which he frequented was, of course, easily accounted for by
+Mr. Larkspur, and the absence of any, even the slightest, additional
+clue to the fate of Jernam, confirmed that astute person in the
+conviction, which he had reached early in the course of his
+confabulations with Harker, that the convict was the guilty man. There
+was, on this hypothesis, nothing for it but to wait until the worthy
+exile should have worked out his time and once more returned to grace
+his mother-country, and then to resume the close watch which, though
+hitherto ineffectual, might in time bring some of his former deeds to
+light.
+
+Such was the state of affairs when Captain Duncombe bought the deserted
+house which had had such undesirable tenants, first in the person of
+old Screwton, the miser, and, secondly, of Black Milsom. Joyce Harker
+was aware of the transaction, and had watched with some interest the
+transformation of the dreary, dismal, doomed place, into the cheery,
+comfortable, middle-class residence it had now become. If he had known
+that the last hours of Valentine Jernam's life had been passed on that
+spot, that there his beloved master had met with a violent and cruel
+death, with what different feelings he would have watched the work! But
+though, as the former dwelling of Black Milsom, the cottage had a
+dreary attraction for him, he was far from imagining that within its
+walls lay hidden one infallible clue to the secret for which he had
+sought so long and so vainly.
+
+The new occupant of River View Cottage was acquainted with Joyce
+Harker, and held the solitary old man in some esteem. Captain Joe
+Duncombe and the _protege_ of the Jernams had nothing whatever in
+common in character, disposition, or manners, and the distance in the
+social scale which divided the prosperous merchant-captain from the
+poor, though clever, dependent, was considerable, even according to the
+not very strict standard of manners observed by persons of their
+respective classes. But Joe Duncombe knew and heartily liked George
+Jernam. He had been in England at the time of Valentine's murder, and
+he had then learned the faithful and active part played by Harker. He
+had lost sight of the man for some time, but when he had bought the
+cottage, and during the progress of the changes and improvements he had
+made in that unprepossessing dwelling, accident had thrown Harker in
+his way, and they had found much to discuss in George Jernam's
+prosperity, in his generous treatment of Harker, in the general
+condition of the merchant service, which the two men declared to be
+going to the dogs, after the manner of all professions, trades, and
+institutions of every age and every clime, when contemplated from a
+conversational point of view; and in the honest captain's plans, hopes,
+and prospects concerning his daughter.
+
+Joyce Harker had seen Rosamond Duncombe occasionally, but had not taken
+much notice of her. Nor had Miss Duncombe been much impressed by that
+gentleman. Joyce was not a lady's man, and Rosamond, who entertained a
+rather disrespectful notion of her father's acquaintances in general,
+classing them collectively as "old fogies," contented herself with
+distinguishing Mr. Harker as the ugliest and grimmest of the lot. Joyce
+came and went, not very often indeed, but very freely to River View
+Cottage, and there was much confidence and good-fellowship between the
+bluff old seaman and the more acute, but not less honest, adventurer.
+
+There was, however, one circumstance which Captain Duncombe never
+mentioned to Harker. That circumstance was the apparition of old
+Screwton's ghost. Joe Duncombe was, to tell the truth, a little ashamed
+of his credulity on that occasion. He entertained no doubt that he had
+been victimized by a clever practical joke, and while he chuckled over
+the recollection that it had been an expensive jest to the perpetrator,
+who had lost a valuable gold coin by the transaction, he had no fancy
+for exposing himself to any further ridicule on the occasion. So the
+bluff, imperious, soft-hearted captain issued an ukase commanding
+silence on the subject; and silence was observed, not in the least
+because Rosamond Duncombe or Susan Trott were afraid of him, but
+because Rosamond loved her father, and Susan Trott respected her master
+too much to disobey his lightest wish.
+
+There was also one circumstance which Joyce Harker never mentioned to
+Captain Duncombe. This circumstance was the identity of the former
+occupant of the cottage with the man whom he believed to be the
+murderer of Valentine Jernam.
+
+"It is bad enough to live in a place that's said to be haunted," said
+Harker to himself, when he visited the cottage for the first time;
+"without my telling him that he comes after a man who is certainly a
+convict, and probably a murderer."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+                            DOUBTFUL SOCIETY.
+
+Victor Carrington still lived in the little cottage on the outskirts of
+London. Here, with his mother for his only companion, he led a simple,
+studious life, which, to any one ignorant of his character, would have
+seemed the life of a good and honourable man.
+
+The few neighbours who passed to and fro beneath the wall which
+surrounded the cottage, knew nothing of the inner life of its
+occupants. They knew only that of all the houses in the neighbourhood
+this was the quietest. Yet those who happened to pass the house late at
+night always saw a glimmer of light in an upper chamber, and the blue
+vapour of smoke rising from one particular chimney.
+
+Those who had occasion to pass the house frequently after dark
+perceived that the smoke from this chimney was different from the
+common smoke of common chimneys. Sometimes vivid sparks glittered and
+flashed upon the darkness. At other times a semi-luminous, green vapour
+was seen to issue from the mouth of the chimney.
+
+These facts were spoken about by the neighbours; and by and by people
+discovered that the smoke issued from the chimney of Victor
+Carrington's laboratory, where the surgeon was frequently employed,
+long after midnight, making experiments in the science of chemistry.
+
+The nature of these experiments was known to no one. The few neighbours
+who had ever conversed with the French surgeon had heard him declare
+that he was a student of the mysteries of electricity. It was,
+therefore, supposed that all his experiments were in some manner
+connected with that wondrous science.
+
+No one for a moment suspected evil of a young man whose life was sober,
+respectable, and laborious, and who went to the little Catholic chapel
+every Sunday, with his mother leaning on his arm.
+
+Those who really knew Victor Carrington knew that he was without one
+ray of belief in a Divine Ruler, and that he laughed to scorn those
+terrors of heavenly vengeance which will sometimes restrain the hand of
+the most hardened criminal. He was a wretch who seemed to have been
+created without those natural qualities which, in some degree, redeem
+the worst of humanity. He was a creature without a conscience--without
+a heart.
+
+And yet he seemed the most dutiful and devoted of sons.
+
+Is it possible that filial love could hold any place in a soul so lost
+as his? It is difficult to solve this enigma.
+
+Victor Carrington was ambitious; and to gain the object of his ambition
+he was willing to steep his soul in guilt. But he was also cautious and
+calculating, and he knew that to commit crime with impunity he must so
+shape his life as to escape suspicion.
+
+He knew that a devoted and affectionate son is always respected by good
+men and women; and he had studied human nature too closely not to be
+aware that there is more goodness than wickedness in the world, base
+though some of earth's inhabitants may be.
+
+The world is easily hoodwinked; and those who watched the life of the
+young surgeon were ready to declare that he was a most deserving young
+man.
+
+He had his reward for this apparent excellence. Patients came to him
+without his seeking; and at the time of Honoria Eversleigh's arrival in
+London he had obtained a small but remunerative practice. The money
+earned thus enabled him to live. The money he won by his pen in the
+medical journals he was able to save.
+
+He knew how necessary money was in all the turning-points of life, and
+he denied himself every pleasure and every luxury in order to save a
+sum which should serve him in time of need.
+
+Matilda Carrington was one of those quiet women who seem to take no
+interest in the world around them, and to be happy without the
+pleasures which delight other women. She lived quite alone, without one
+female friend or acquaintance, and she saw little of her son, whose
+midnight studies and medical practice absorbed almost every hour of his
+existence.
+
+Her life, therefore, was one long solitude, and but for the
+companionship of her birds and two Angora cats, she would have been
+almost as much alone as a prisoner in a condemned cell.
+
+There was but one visitor who came often to the cottage, and that was
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh. The young baronet contrived to exist, somehow
+or other, upon his income of five hundred a year; but, as he had
+neither abandoned his old haunts, nor put aside his old vices, the
+income, which to a good man would have seemed a handsome competence,
+barely enabled him to stave off the demands of his most pressing
+creditors by occasional payments on account.
+
+He lived a dark and strange existence, occupying a set of shabby-
+genteel apartments in a street leading out of the Strand; but spending
+a great part of his life in a house on the banks of the Thames--a house
+that stood amidst grounds of some extent, situated midway between
+Chelsea and Fulham.
+
+The mistress of this house was a lady who called herself a widow, but
+of whose real position the world knew very little.
+
+She was said to be of Austrian extraction, and the widow of an Austrian
+officer. Her name was Paulina Durski. She had bade farewell to the
+fresh bloom of early youth; for at her best she looked thirty years of
+age. But her beauty was of that brilliant order which does not need the
+charm of girlhood. She was a woman--a grand, queen-like creature. Those
+who admired her most compared her to a tall white lily, alike stately
+and graceful.
+
+She was fair, with that snowy purity of complexion which is so rare a
+charm. Her hair was of the palest gold--darker than flaxen, lighter
+than auburn--hair that waved in sunny undulations on the broad white
+forehead, and imparted an unspeakable innocence to the beautiful face.
+
+Such was Paulina Durski. One charm alone was wanting to render this
+woman as lovable as she was lovely, and that wan the charm of
+expression.
+
+There was a lack of warmth in that perfect face. The bright blue eyes
+were hard; the rosy lips had been trained to smile on friend or foe, on
+stranger or kinsman, with the same artificial smile.
+
+Hilton House was the name of the villa by the river-bank. It had
+belonged originally to a nobleman; but, on the decay of his fortunes,
+had fallen into the hands of a speculator, who intended to occupy it,
+but who failed almost immediately after becoming its owner. After this
+man's bankruptcy, the house had for a long time been tenantless. It was
+too expensive for some, too lonely for others; and when Madame Durski
+saw and took a fancy to the place, she was able to secure it for a
+moderate rent. The grounds and the house had been neglected. The rare
+and costly shrubs in the gardens were rank and overgrown; the exquisite
+decorations of the interior were spoiled by damp.
+
+Madame Durski was a person who lived in a certain style; but it
+speedily became evident that she was very often at a loss for ready
+money. Her furniture arrived from Paris, and her household came also
+from that brilliant city. It was the household of a princess; but of a
+princess not unfamiliar with poverty.
+
+There was a Spanish courier, one Carlo Toas--a strange, silent
+creature, whose stately and solemn movements seemed fitted for a
+courtly assembly, rather than for the unceremonious gatherings of
+modern society. The next person in importance in the household of
+Madame Durski was an elderly woman, who attended on the fair Austrian
+widow. She was a native of Paris, and her name was Sophie Elser. There
+were three other servants, all foreigners, and apparently devoted to
+their mistress.
+
+The furniture was of a bygone fashion, costly and beautiful of its
+kind; but it was furniture which had seen better days. The draperies in
+every chamber were of satin or velvet; but the satin was worn and
+faded, the velvet threadbare. The pictures, china, plate, the bronzes
+and knick-knacks which adorned the rooms, all bore evidence of a
+refined and artistic taste. But much of the china was imperfect, and
+the plate was of very small extent.
+
+The existence of Paulina Durski was one which might well excite
+curiosity in the minds of the few neighbours who had the opportunity of
+observing her mode of life.
+
+This beautiful widow had no female acquaintances, save a humble friend
+who lived with her, an Englishwoman, who subsisted upon the charity of
+the lovely Paulina.
+
+This person never quitted her benefactress. She was constant as her
+shadow; a faithful watch-dog, always at hand, yet never obtrusive. She
+was a creature who seemed to have been born without eyes and without
+ears; so careless was the widow of her presence, so reckless what
+secrets were disclosed in her hearing.
+
+By daylight the life of Madame Durski and her companion, Miss Brewer,
+seemed the dullest existence ever endured by womankind. Paulina rarely
+left her own apartment until six in the evening; at which hour, she and
+Miss Brewer dined together in her boudoir.
+
+They always dined alone. After dinner Paulina returned to her apartment
+to dress for the evening, while Miss Brewer retired to her own bedroom
+on the upper story, where she arrayed herself invariably in black
+velvet.
+
+She had never been seen by the visitors at Hilton House in any other
+costume than this lustreless velvet. Her age was between thirty and
+forty. She might once have had some pretensions to beauty; but her face
+was pinched and careworn, and there was a sharp, greedy look in the
+small eyes, whose colour was that neutral, undecided tint, that seems
+sometimes a pale yellowish brown, anon a blueish green.
+
+All day long the two women at Hilton House lived alone. No carriage
+approached the gates; no foot-passenger was seen to enter the grounds.
+Within and without all was silent and lifeless.
+
+But with nightfall came a change. Lights shone in all the lower
+windows, music sounded on the still night air, many carriages rolled
+through the open gateway--broughams with flashing lamps dashed up to
+the marble portico, and hack cabs mingled with the more stylish
+equipages.
+
+There were very few nights on which Paulina Durski's saloons were not
+enlivened by the presence of many guests. Her visitors were all
+gentlemen; but they treated the mistress of the house with as much
+respect as if she had been surrounded by women of the highest rank.
+Night after night the same men assembled in those faded saloons; night
+after night the carriages rolled along the avenue--the flashing lamps
+illuminated the darkness. Those who watched the proceedings of the
+Austrian widow had good reason to wonder what the attraction was which
+brought those visitors so constantly to Hilton House. Many speculations
+were formed, and the fair widow's reputation suffered much at the hands
+of her neighbours; but none guessed the real charm of those nightly
+receptions.
+
+That secret was known only to those within the mansion; and from those
+it could not be hidden.
+
+The charm which drew so many visitors to the saloons of Madame Durski
+was the fatal spell of the gaming-table. The beautiful Paulina opened a
+suite of three spacious chambers for the reception of her guests. In
+the outer apartment there was a piano; and it was here Paulina sat--
+with her constant companion, Matilda Brewer. In the second apartment
+were small green velvet-covered tables, devoted to whist and _ecarte_.
+The third, and inner, apartment was much larger than either of the
+others, and in this room there was a table for _rouge et noir_.
+
+The door of this inner apartment was papered so as to appear when
+closed like a portion of the wall. A heavy picture was securely
+fastened upon this papered surface, and the door was lined with iron.
+Once closed, this door was not easily to be discovered by the eye of a
+stranger; and, even when discovered, it was not easily to be opened.
+
+It was secured with a spring lock, which fastened of itself as the door
+swung to.
+
+This inner apartment had no windows. It was never used in the day-time.
+It was a secret chamber, hidden in the very centre of the house; and
+only an architect or a detective officer would have been likely to have
+discovered its existence. The walls were hung with red cloth, and
+Madame Durski always spoke of this apartment as the Red Drawing-room.
+Her servants were forbidden to mention the chamber in their
+conversation with the neighbours, and the members of the Austrian
+widow's household were too well trained to disobey any such orders.
+
+By the laws of England, the existence of a table for _rouge et noir_ is
+forbidden. All these precautions were therefore necessary to insure
+safety for the guests of Madame Durski.
+
+Paulina, herself, never played. Sometimes she sat with Miss Brewer in
+the outer chamber, silent and abstracted, while her visitors amused
+themselves in the two other rooms; sometimes she seated herself at the
+piano, and played soft, plaintive German sonatas, or _Leider ohne
+Worte_, for an hour at a time; sometimes she moved slowly to and fro
+amongst the gamblers--now lingering for a few moments behind the chair
+of one, now glancing at the cards of another.
+
+One of her most constant visitors was Reginald Eversleigh. Every night
+he drove down to Hilton House in a hack cab. He was generally the first
+to arrive and the last to depart.
+
+It was also to be observed that almost all the men who assembled in the
+drawing-rooms of Hilton House were friends and acquaintances of Sir
+Reginald.
+
+It was he who introduced them to the lovely widow. It was he who
+tempted them to come night after night, when prudence should have
+induced them to stay away.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The association between Reginald Eversleigh and Paulina Durski was no
+new alliance.
+
+Immediately after the death of Sir Oswald Eversleigh, Reginald turned
+his back upon London, disgusted with the scene of his poverty and
+humiliation, eager to find forgetfulness of his bitter disappointments
+in the fever and excitement of a more brilliant city than any to be
+found in Great Britain. He went to Paris, that capital which he had
+shunned since the death of Mary Goodwin, but whither he returned
+eagerly now, thirsting for riot and excitement--any opiate by which he
+might lull to rest the bitter memories of the past month.
+
+He was familiar with the wildest haunts of that city of dissipation,
+and he was speedily engulphed in the vortex of vice and folly. If he
+had been a rich man, this life might have gone on for ever; but without
+money a man counts for very little in such a circle as that wherein
+Reginald alone could find delight, and to the inhabitants of that
+region five hundred a year would seem a kind of pauperism.
+
+Sir Reginald contrived to keep the actual amount of his income a secret
+locked in his own breast. His acquaintances and associates knew that he
+was not rich; but they knew no more.
+
+At the French opera-house he saw Paulina Durski for the first time. She
+was seated in one of the smaller boxes, dressed in pure white, with
+white camellias in her hair. Her faithful companion, Matilda Brewer,
+was seated in the shadow of the curtains, and formed a foil for the
+beautiful Austrian.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh entered the house with a dissipated and fashionable
+young Parisian--a man who, like his companion, had wasted youth,
+character, and fortune in the tainted atmosphere of disreputable haunts
+and midnight assemblies. The two young men took their places in the
+stalls, and amused themselves between the acts by a scrutiny of the
+occupants of the house.
+
+Hector Leonce, the Parisian, was familiar with the inmates of every
+box.
+
+"Do you see that beautiful, fair-haired woman, with the white camellias
+in her hair?" he said, after he had drawn the attention of the
+Englishman to several distinguished people. "That is Madame Durski, the
+young and wealthy widow of an Austrian officer, and one of the most
+celebrated beauties in Paris."
+
+"She is very handsome," answered Reginald, carelessly; "but hers is a
+cold style of loveliness--too much like a face moulded out of wax."
+
+"Wait till you see her animated," replied Hector Leonce. "We will go to
+her box presently."
+
+When the curtain fell on the close of the following act the two men
+left the stalls, and made their way to Madame Durski's box.
+
+She received them courteously, and Reginald Eversleigh speedily
+perceived that her beauty, fair and wax-like as it was, did not lack
+intellectual grace. She talked well, and her manner had the tone of
+good society. Reginald was surprised to see her attended only by the
+little Englishwoman, in her dress of threadbare black velvet.
+
+After the opera Sir Reginald and Hector Leonce accompanied Madame
+Durski to her apartments in the Rue du Faubourg, St. Honore; and there
+the baronet beheld higher play than he had ever seen before in a
+private house presided over by a woman. On this occasion the beautiful
+widow herself occupied a place at the _rouge et noir_ table, and
+Reginald beheld enough to enlighten him as to her real character. He
+saw that with this woman the love of play was a passion: a profound and
+soul-absorbing delight. He saw the eyes which, in repose, seemed of so
+cold a brightness, emit vivid flashes of feverish light; he saw the
+fair blush-rose tinted cheek glow with a hectic crimson--he beheld the
+woman with her mask thrown aside, abandoned to the influence of her
+master-passion.
+
+After this night, Reginald Eversleigh was a frequent visitor at the
+apartments of the Austrian widow. For him, as for her, the fierce
+excitement of the gaming-table was an irresistible temptation. In her
+elegantly appointed drawing-rooms he met rich men who were desperate
+players; but he met few men who were likely to be dupes. Here neither
+skill nor bribery availed him, and he was dependent on the caprices of
+chance. The balance was tolerably even, and he left Paris neither
+richer nor poorer for his acquaintance with Paulina Durski.
+
+But that acquaintance exercised a very powerful influence over his
+destiny, nevertheless. There was a strange fascination in the society
+of the Austrian widow--a nameless, indefinable charm, which few were
+able to resist. A bitter experience of vice and folly had robbed
+Reginald Eversleigh's heart and mind of all youth's freshness and
+confidence, and for him this woman seemed only what she was, an
+adventuress, dangerous to all who approached her.
+
+He knew this, and yet he yielded to the fascination of her presence.
+Night after night he haunted the rooms in the Rue du Faubourg, St.
+Honore. He went there even when he was too poor to play, and could only
+stand behind Paulina's chair, a patient and devoted cavalier.
+
+For a long time she seemed to be scarcely aware of his devotion. She
+received him as she received her other guests. She met him always with
+the same cold smile; the same studied courtesy. But one evening, when
+he went to her apartments earlier than usual, he found her alone, and
+in a melancholy mood.
+
+Then, for the first time, he became aware that the life she led was
+odious to her; that she loathed the hateful vice of which she was the
+slave. She was wont to be very silent about herself and her own
+feelings; but that night she cast aside all reserve, and spoke with a
+passionate earnestness, which made her seem doubly charming to Reginald
+Eversleigh.
+
+"I am so degraded a creature that, perhaps, you have never troubled
+yourself to wonder how I became the thing I am," she said; "and yet you
+must surely have marvelled to see a woman of high birth fallen to the
+depths in which you find me; fallen so low as to be the companion of
+gamesters, a gamester myself. I will tell you the secret of my life."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh lifted his hand with a deprecating gesture.
+
+"Dear madame, tell me nothing, I implore you. I admire and respect
+you," he said. "To me, you must always appear the most beautiful of
+women, whatever may be the nature of your surroundings."
+
+"Yes, the most beautiful!" echoed Paulina, with passionate scorn. "You
+men think that to praise a woman's beauty is to console her for every
+humiliation. I have long held that which you call my beauty as the
+poorest thing on earth, so little, happiness has its possession won for
+me. I will tell you the story of my life. It is the only justification
+I have."
+
+"I am ready to listen. So long as you speak of yourself, your words
+must have the deepest interest for me."
+
+"I was reared amongst gamesters, Reginald Eversleigh," continued
+Paulina Durski, with the same passionate intensity of manner, "My
+father was an incorrigible gambler; and before I had emerged from
+childhood to girlhood, the handsome fortune which should have been mine
+had been squandered. As a girl the rattle of the dice, the clamour of
+the _rouge et noir_ table were the most familiar sounds to my ears.
+Night after night, night after night, I have kept watch at my own
+window, and have seen the lighted windows of my father's rooms, and
+have known that grim poverty was drawing nearer and nearer as the long
+hours of those sleepless nights went by."
+
+"My poor Paulina!"
+
+"My mother died young, exhausted by the perpetual fever of anxiety
+which the gambler's wife is doomed to suffer. She died, and I was left
+alone--a woman; beautiful if you will, and, as the world supposed,
+heiress to a large fortune; for none knew how entirely the wealth which
+should have been mine had melted away in those nights of dissipation
+and folly. People knew that my father played, and played desperately;
+but few knew the extent of his losses. After my mother's death, my
+father insisted on my doing the honours of his house. I received his
+friends; I stood by his chair as he played _ecarte_, or sat by his side
+and noted the progress of the game at the _rouge et noir_ table. Then
+first I felt the fatal passion which I can but believe to be a taint in
+my very blood. Slowly and gradually the fascinating vice assumed its
+horrible mastery. I watched the progress of the play. I learned to
+understand that science which was the one all-absorbing pursuit of
+those around me. Then I played myself, first taking a hand at _ecarte_
+with some of the younger guests, half in sport, and then venturing a
+small golden coin at the _rouge et noir_ table, while my admirers
+praised my daring, as if I had been some capricious child. In those
+assemblies I was always the only woman, except Matilda Brewer, who was
+then my governess. My father would have no female guests at these
+nightly orgies. The presence of women would have been a hindrance to
+the delights of the gaming-table. At first I felt all the bitterness of
+my position. I looked forward with unspeakable dread to the dreary
+future in which I should find destitution staring me in the face. But
+when once the gamester's madness had seized upon me, I thought no more
+of that dreary future; I became as reckless as my father and his
+guests; I forgot everything in the excitement of the moment. To be
+lucky at the gaming-table was to be happy; to lose was despair. Thus my
+youth went by, till the day when my father told me that Colonel Durski
+had offered me his hand and fortune, and that I had no alternative but
+to accept him."
+
+"Oh, then, your first marriage was no love-match?" cried Reginald,
+eagerly.
+
+"A love-match!" exclaimed Paulina, contemptuously. "No; it was a
+marriage of convenience, dictated by a father who set less value on his
+daughter's happiness than on a good hand of cards. My father told me I
+must choose between Leopold Durski and ruin. 'This house cannot shelter
+you much longer,' he said. 'For myself there is flight. I can go to
+America, and lose my identity in strange cities. I cannot remain in
+Vienna, to be pointed at as the beggared Count Veschi. But with you for
+my companion I should be tied hand and foot. As a wanderer and an
+adventurer, I may prosper alone; but as a wanderer, burdened with a
+helpless woman, failure would be certain. It is not a question of
+choice, Paulina,' he said, resolutely; 'there is no alternative. You
+must become the wife of Leopold Durski.'"
+
+"And you consented?"
+
+"I ask you, Reginald Eversleigh, could I refuse? For me, love was a
+word which had no meaning. Leopold Durski was more than double my age;
+but in outward seeming he was a gentleman. He was reported to be
+wealthy; he had a high position at the Austrian Court. I was so utterly
+helpless, so desolate, so despairing, that it is scarcely strange if I
+accepted the fate my father pressed upon me, careless as to a future
+which held no joy for me, beyond the pleasure of the gaming-table. I
+left the house of one gambler to ally myself to the fortunes of
+another, for Leopold Durski was my father's companion and friend, and
+the same master-passion swayed both. It was strange that my father,
+himself a ruined gamester, should have become the dupe of a man whose
+reported wealth was as great a sham as his own. But so it was. I
+exchanged poverty with one master for poverty with another master. My
+new life was an existence of perpetual falsehood and trickery. I
+occupied a splendid house in the most fashionable quarter of Vienna;
+but that house was maintained by my husband's winnings at the gaming-
+table; and it was my task to draw together the dupes whose money was to
+support the false semblance of grandeur which surrounded me. The dupes
+came. I had my little court of flatterers; but the courtiers paid
+dearly for their allegiance to their queen. I was the snare which was
+set to entrap the birds whose feathers my husband was to pluck. If I
+had been like other women, my position would have been utterly
+intolerable to me. I should have found some means of escape from a life
+so hateful--a degradation so shameful."
+
+"And you made no attempt to escape?"
+
+"None. I was a gambler; the vice which had degraded my husband had
+degraded me. We had both sunk to the same level, and I had no right to
+reproach him for infamy which I shared. We had little affection for
+each other. Colonel Durski had sought me only because I was fitted to
+adorn his reception-rooms, and attract the dupes who were to suffer by
+their acquaintance with him. But if there was little love between us,
+we at least never quarrelled. He treated me always with studied
+courtesy, and I never upbraided him for the deception by which he had
+obtained my hand. My father disappeared suddenly from Vienna, and only
+after his departure was it discovered that his fortune had long
+vanished, and that he had for several years been completely insolvent.
+His creditors tittered a cry of execration; but in great cities the
+cries of such victims are scarcely heard. My reception-rooms were still
+thronged by aristocratic guests, and no one cared to remember my
+father's infamy. This life had lasted three years, when my husband died
+and left me penniless. I sold my jewels, and came to this city, where
+for a year and a half I have lived, as my husband lived in Vienna, on
+the fortune of the gaming-table. I am growing weary of Paris, and it
+may be that Paris is growing weary of me. I suppose I shall go to
+London next. And next? Who knows? Ah, Reginald Eversleigh, believe me
+there are many moments of my life in which I think that the little walk
+from here to the river would cut the knot of all my difficulties. To-
+night I am surrounded with anxieties, steeped in degradation, hemmed in
+by obstacles that shut me out of all peaceful resting-places. To-morrow
+I might be lying very quietly in the Morgue."
+
+"Paulina, for pity's sake--"
+
+"Ah, me! these are idle words, are they not?" said Madame Durski, with
+a weary sigh. "And now I have told you my history, Reginald Eversleigh,
+and it is for you to judge whether there is any excuse for such a
+creature as I am."
+
+Sir Reginald pitied this hopeless, friendless, woman as much as it was
+in him to pity any one except himself, and tried to utter some words of
+consolation.
+
+She looked up at him, as he spoke to her, with a glance in which he saw
+a deeper feeling than gratitude.
+
+Then it was that Reginald declared himself the devoted lover of the
+woman who had revealed to him the strange story of her life. He told
+her of the influence which she exercised over him, the fascination
+which he had sought in vain to resist. He declared himself attached to
+her by an affection which would know no change, come what might. But he
+did not offer this friendless woman the shelter of his name, the
+ostensible position which would have been hers had she become his wife.
+
+Even when beneath the sway of a woman's fascination Reginald Eversleigh
+was cold and calculating. Paulina Durski was poor, and doubtless deeply
+in debt. She was a gambler, and the companion of gamblers. She was,
+therefore, no fitting wife for a man who looked upon marriage as a
+stepping-stone by which he might yet redeem his fallen fortunes.
+
+Paulina received his declaration with an air of simulated coldness; but
+Reginald Eversleigh could perceive that it was only simulated, and that
+he had awakened a real affection in the heart of this desolate woman.
+
+"Do not speak to me of love," she said; "to me such words can promise
+no happiness. My love could only bring shame and misery on the man to
+whom it was given. Let me tread my dreary pathway alone, Reginald--
+alone to the very end."
+
+Much was said after this by Reginald and the woman who loved him, and
+who was yet too proud to confess her love. Paulina Durski was not an
+inexperienced girl, to be persuaded by romantic speeches. She had
+acquired knowledge of the world in a hard and bitter school. She could
+fully fathom the base selfishness of the man who pretended to love her,
+and she understood why it was that he shrank from offering her the only
+real pledge of his truth.
+
+"I will speak frankly to you, Paulina," he said. "I am too poor to
+marry."
+
+"Yes," she answered, bitterly; "I comprehend. You are too poor to marry
+a penniless wife."
+
+"And I am not likely to find a rich one. But, believe me, that my love
+is none the less sincere because I shrink from asking you to ally
+yourself to misery."
+
+"So be it, Sir Reginald. I am willing to accept your love for what it
+is--a wise and prudent affection--such as a man of the world may freely
+indulge in without fear that his folly may cost him too dearly. You
+will come to my house; I shall see you night after night amongst the
+reckless idlers who gather round me; you will pay me compliments all
+the year round, and bring me bon-bons on New Year's Day; and some day,
+when I have grown old and haggard, you will all at once forget the fact
+of our acquaintance, and I shall see you no more. Let it be so. It is
+pleasant for a woman to fancy herself beloved, however false the fancy
+may be. I will shut my eyes, and dream that you love me, Reginald."
+
+And this was all. No more was ever said of love between these two; but
+from that hour Reginald was more constant than ever in his attendance
+on the beautiful widow. The time came when she grew weary of Paris, and
+when those who had lost money began to shun the seductive delights of
+her nightly receptions. Reginald Eversleigh was not slow to perceive
+that the brilliant throng grew thin--the most distinguished guests
+"conspicuous by their absence." He urged Paulina to leave Paris for
+London; and he himself selected the lonely villa on the banks of the
+Thames, in which he found a billiard-room, lighted from the roof, that
+was easily converted into a secret chamber.
+
+It was by his advice that Paulina Durski altered her line of conduct on
+taking up her abode in England, and refrained altogether from any
+active share in the ruinous amusements for which men frequented her
+receptions.
+
+"It was all very well for you to take a hand at _ecarte_, or to take
+your place at the _rouge et noir_ table, in Paris," Reginald said, when
+he discussed this question; "but here it will not do. The English are
+full of childish prejudices, and to see a woman at the gaming-table
+would shock these prejudices. Let me play for you. I will find the
+capital, and we will divide the profits of each night's speculation.
+For your part, you will have only to look beautiful, and to lure the
+golden-feathered birds into the net; and sometimes, perhaps, when I am
+playing _ecarte_ with one of your admirers, behind whose chair you may
+happen to be standing, you may contrive to combine a flattering
+interest in _his_ play with a substantial benefit to _mine_."
+
+Paulina's eyelids fell, and a crimson flush dyed her face: but she
+uttered no exclamation of anger or disgust. And yet she understood only
+too well the meaning of Sir Reginald's words. She knew that he wished
+her to aid him in a deliberate system of cheating. She knew this, and
+she did not withdraw her friendship from this man.
+
+Alas, no! she loved him. Not because she believed him to be good and
+honourable--not because she was blinded to the baseness of his nature.
+She loved him in spite of her knowledge of his real character--she
+yielded to the influence of an infatuation which she was so powerless
+to resist that she might almost be pardoned for believing herself the
+victim of a baleful destiny.
+
+"It is my fate," she murmured to herself, after this last revelation of
+her lover's infamy. "It must needs be my fate, since women with less
+claim to be loved than I possess are so happy as to win the devotion of
+good and brave men. It is my fate to love a cheat and trickster, on
+whose constancy I have so poor a hold that a breath may sever the
+miserable bond that unites us."
+
+Victor Carrington was one of the first persons whom Reginald Eversleigh
+introduced to Madame Durski after her arrival in England. She was
+pleased with the quiet and graceful manners of the Frenchman; but she
+was at a loss to understand Sir Reginald's intimate association with a
+man who was at once poor and obscure.
+
+She told Sir Reginald as much the next time she saw him alone.
+
+"I know that in most of your friendships convenience and self-interest
+reign paramount over what you call sentimentality; and yet you choose
+for your friend this Carrington, whom no one knows; and who is, you
+tell me, even poorer than yourself. You must have a hidden motive,
+Reginald; and a strong one."
+
+A dark shade passed over the face of the baronet.
+
+"I have my reasons," he said. "Victor Carrington was once useful to
+me--at least he endeavoured to be so. If he failed, the obligation is
+none the less; and he is a man who will have his bond."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+                               AT ANCHOR.
+
+The current of life flowed on at River View Cottage without so much as
+a ripple in the shape of an event, after the appalling midnight visit
+of Miser Screwton's ghost, until one summer evening, when Captain
+Duncombe came home in very high spirits, bringing with him an old
+friend, of whom Miss Duncombe had heard her father talk very often; but
+whom she had hitherto never seen.
+
+This was no other than George Jernam, the captain of the "Albatross,"
+and the owner of the "Stormy Petrel" and "Pizarro."
+
+In London the captain of the "Albatross" found plenty of business to
+occupy him. He had just returned from an African cruise, and though he
+had not forgotten the circumstances which had made his last intended
+visit to England only a memorable and melancholy failure, he was in
+high spirits.
+
+The first few days hardly sufficed for the talks between George Jernam
+and Joyce Harker, who aided him vigorously in the refitting of his
+vessel. He had been in London about a week before he fell in with
+honest Joe Duncombe. The two men had been fast friends ever since the
+day on which George, while still a youngster, had served as second-mate
+under the owner of the "Vixen."
+
+They met accidentally in one of the streets about Wapping. Joseph
+Buncombe was delighted to encounter a sea-faring friend, and insisted
+on taking George Jernam down to River View Cottage to eat what he
+called a homely bit of dinner.
+
+The homely bit of dinner turned out to be a very excellent repast; for
+Mrs. Mugby prided herself upon her powers as a cook and housekeeper,
+and to produce a good dinner at a short notice was a triumph she much
+enjoyed.
+
+Susan Trott waited at table in her prettiest cotton gown and smartest
+cap.
+
+Rosamond Duncombe sat by her father's side during the meal; and after
+dinner, when the curtains were drawn, and the lamp lighted, the captain
+of the "Vixen" set himself to brew a jorum of punch in a large old
+Japanese china bowl, the composition of which punch was his strong
+point.
+
+Altogether that little dinner and cheerful evening entertainment seemed
+the perfection of home comfort. George Jernam had been too long a
+stranger to home and home pleasures not to feel the cheerful influence
+of that hospitable abode.
+
+For Joseph Duncombe the companionship of his old friend was delightful.
+The society of the sailor was as invigorating to the nostrils of a
+seaman as the fresh breeze of ocean after a long residence inland.
+
+"You don't know what a treat it is to me to have an old shipmate with
+me once more, George," he said. "My little Rosy and I live here pretty
+comfortably, though I keep a tight hand over her, I can tell you," he
+added, with pretended severity; "but it's dull work for a man who has
+lived the best part of his life on the sea to find himself amongst a
+pack of spooney landsmen. Never you marry a landsman, Rosy, if you
+don't want me to cut you off with a shilling," he cried, turning to his
+daughter.
+
+Of course Miss Rosamond Duncombe blushed on hearing herself thus
+apostrophized, as young ladies of eighteen have a knack of blushing
+when the possibility of their falling in love is mentioned.
+
+George Jernam saw the blush, and thought that Miss Duncombe was the
+prettiest girl he had ever seen.
+
+George Jernam stayed late at the cottage, for its hospitable owner was
+loth to let his friend depart.
+
+"How long do you stay in London, George?" he asked, as the young man
+was going away.
+
+"A month, at least--perhaps two months."
+
+"Then be sure you come down here very often. You can dine with us every
+Sunday, of course, for I know you haven't a creature belonging to you
+in London except Harker; and you can run down of an evening sometimes,
+and bring him with you, and smoke your cigar in my garden, with the
+bright water rippling past you, and all the ships in the Pool spreading
+their rigging against the calm grey sky; and I'll brew you a jorum of
+punch, and Rosy shall sing us a song while we drink it."
+
+It is not to be supposed that George Jernam, who had a good deal of
+idle time on his hands, could refuse to oblige his old captain, or
+shrink from availing himself of hospitality so cordially pressed upon
+him.
+
+He went very often in the autumn dusk to spend an hour or two at River
+View Cottage, where he always found a hearty welcome. He strolled in
+the garden with Captain Duncombe and Rosamond, talking of strange lands
+and stranger adventures.
+
+Harker did not always accompany him; but sometimes he did, and on such
+occasions Rosamond seemed unaccountably glad to see him. Harker paid
+her no more attention than usual, and invariably devoted himself to Joe
+Duncombe, who was frequently lazy, and inclined to smoke his cigar in
+the comfortable parlour. On these occasions George Jernam and Rosamond
+Duncombe strolled side by side in the garden; and the sailor
+entertained his fair companion by the description of all the strangest
+scenes he had beheld, and the most romantic adventures he had been
+engaged in. It was like the talk of some sea-faring Othello; and never
+did Desdemona more "seriously incline" to hear her valiant Moor than
+did Miss Duncombe to hear her captain.
+
+One of the windows of Joseph Duncombe's favourite sitting-room
+commanded the garden; and from this window the captain of the "Vixen"
+could see his daughter and the captain of the "Albatross" walking side
+by side upon the smoothly kept lawn. He used to look unutterably sly as
+he watched the two figures; and on one occasion went so far as to tap
+his nose significantly several times with his ponderous fore-finger.
+
+"It's a match!" he muttered to himself; "it's a match, or my name is
+not Joe Duncombe."
+
+Susan Trott was not slow to notice those evening walks in the garden.
+She told the dashing young baker that she thought there would be a
+wedding at the cottage before long.
+
+"Yours, of course," cried the baker.
+
+"For shame, now, you impitent creature!" exclaimed Susan, blushing till
+she was rosier than the cherry-coloured ribbons in her cap; "you know
+what I mean well enough."
+
+Neither Captain Duncombe nor Susan Trott were very far wrong. The
+"Albatross" was not ready for her next cruise till three months after
+George Jernam's first visit to River View Cottage, nor did the captain
+of the vessel seem particularly anxious to hasten the completion of the
+repairs.
+
+When the "Albatross" did drop down into the Channel, she sailed on a
+cruise that was to last less than six months; and when George Jernam
+touched English ground again, he was to return to claim Rosamond
+Duncombe as his plighted wife. This arrangement had Joyce Harker's
+hearty approbation; but when he, too, had taken leave of George Jernam,
+he turned away muttering, "I think he really _has_ forgotten Captain
+Valentine now; but I have not, I have not. No, I remember him better
+than ever now, when there's no one but me."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The "Albatross" came safely back to the Pool in the early spring
+weather. George Jernam had promised Rosamond that she should know of
+his coming before ever he set foot on shore, and he contrived to keep
+his word.
+
+One fine March day she saw a vessel sailing up the river, with a white
+flag flying from the main-mast. On the white flag blazed, in bright red
+letters, the name, "_Rosamond_!"
+
+When Miss Duncombe saw this, she knew at once that her lover had
+returned. No other vessel than the "Albatross" was likely to sport such
+a piece of bunting.
+
+George Jernam came back braver, truer, handsomer even than when he went
+away, as it seemed to Rosamond. He came back more devoted to her than
+ever, she thought; and a man must have been indeed cold of heart who
+could be ungrateful for the innocent, girlish affection which Rosamond
+revealed in every word and look.
+
+The wedding took place within a month of the sailor's return; and,
+after some discussion, George Jernam consented that he and his wife
+should continue to live at the cottage.
+
+"I can't come here to take possession of your house," he had said,
+addressing himself to his future father-in-law; "that would be rather
+too much of a good thing. I know you'd like to keep Rosy in the
+neighbourhood, and so you shall. I'll do as you did. I'll find a little
+bit of ground near here, and build myself a comfortable crib, with a
+view of the river."
+
+"Stuff and nonsense!" replied Captain Duncombe. "If that's what you are
+going to do, you shall not have my Rosy. I've no objection to her
+having a husband on the premises; but the day she leaves my roof for
+the sake of any man in Christendom, I'll cut her off with a shilling--
+and the shilling shall be a bad one."
+
+The captain of the "Albatross" took his young wife into Devonshire for
+a brief honeymoon; and during this pleasant spring-time holiday,
+Rosamond made the acquaintance of her husband's aunt. Susan Jernam was
+pleased with the bright-eyed, pure-minded, modest girl, and in the few
+days they were together, learned to regard her with a motherly feeling,
+which was destined to be of priceless value to Rosy at an unforeseen
+crisis of the new life that began so fairly.
+
+Never did a married couple begin their new life with a fairer prospect
+than that which lay before George Jernam and his wife when they
+returned to River View Cottage. Captain Duncombe received his son-in-
+law with the hearty welcome of a true seaman; but a few days after
+George Jernam's return, the old sailor took him aside, and made an
+announcement which filled him with surprise.
+
+"You know how fond I am of Rosy," he said, "and you know that if
+Providence had blessed me with a son of my own, he couldn't have been
+much dearer to me than you are; so come what may, neither you or Rosy
+must doubt my affection for both of you. Come now, George, promise me
+you won't."
+
+"I promise, with all my heart," answered Captain Jernam; "I should no
+more think of doubting your goodness or your love for us, than I should
+think of doubting that there's a sun shining up aloft yonder. But why
+do you speak of this?"
+
+"Because, George, the truth of the matter is, I'm going to leave you."
+
+"You are going to leave us?"
+
+"Yes, old fellow. You see, a lazy, land-lubber's life doesn't suit me.
+I've tried it, and it don't answer. I thought the sound of the water
+washing against the bank at the bottom of my garden, and the sight of
+the ships in the Pool, would be consolation enough for me, but they
+ain't, and I've been sickening for the sea for the last six mouths. As
+long as my little Rosy had nobody in the world but me to take care of
+her, I stayed with her, and I should have gone on staying with her till
+I died at my post. But she's got a husband now, and two trust-worthy
+women-servants, who would protect her if you left her--as I suppose you
+must leave her, sooner or later--so there's no reason why I should stop
+on shore any longer, pining for a sight of blue water."
+
+"And you really mean to leave us!" exclaimed George Jernam. "I am
+afraid your going will break poor Rosy's heart."
+
+"No it won't, George," answered Captain Duncombe. "When a young woman's
+married, her heart is uncommonly tough with regard to everybody except
+her husband. I dare say poor little Rosy-posy will be sorry to lose her
+old father; but she'll have you to console her, and she won't grieve
+long. Besides, I'm not going away for ever, you know. I'm only just
+going to take a little cruise to the Indies, with a cargo of dry goods,
+make a bit of money for my grandchildren that are to be, and then come
+home again, fresher than ever, and settle down in the bosom of my
+family. I've seen a neat little craft that will suit me to a T; and I
+shall fit her out, and be off for blue water before the month is
+ended."
+
+It was evident that the old sailor was in earnest, and George Jernam
+did not attempt to overrule his determination. Rosamond pleaded against
+her father's departure, but she pleaded in vain. Early in June Captain
+Duncombe left England on board a neat little craft, which he christened
+the "Young Wife," in compliment to his daughter.
+
+Before he went, George promised that he would himself await the return
+of his father-in-law before he started on a new voyage.
+
+"I can afford to be idle for twelve months, or so," he said; "and my
+dear little wife shall not be left without a protector."
+
+So the young couple settled down comfortably in the commodious cottage,
+which was now all their own.
+
+To Rosamond, her new existence was all unbroken joy. She had loved her
+husband with all the romantic devotion of inexperienced girlhood. To
+her poetic fancy he seemed the noblest and bravest of created beings;
+and she wondered at her own good fortune when she saw him by her side,
+fond and devoted, consent to sacrifice all the delights of his free,
+roving life for her sake.
+
+"I don't think such happiness _can_ last, George," she said to him one
+day.
+
+That vague foreboding was soon to be too sadly realized! The sunshine
+and the bright summer peace had promised to last for ever; but a dark
+cloud arose which in one moment overshadowed all that summer sky, and
+Rosamond Jernam's happiness vanished as if it had been indeed a dream.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+                            A FAMILIAR TOKEN.
+
+Joseph Duncombe had been absent from River View Cottage little more
+than a month, and the life of its inmates had been smooth and
+changeless as the placid surface of a lake. They sought no society but
+that of each other. Existence glided by, and the eventless days left
+little to remember except the sweet tranquillity of a happy home.
+
+It was on a wet, dull, unsettled July day that Rosamond Jernam found
+her life changed all at once, while the cause for that dark change
+remained a mystery to her.
+
+After idling away half the morning, Captain Jernam discovered that he
+had an important business letter to write to the captain of his trading
+ship, the "Pizarro."
+
+On opening his portfolio, the captain found himself without a single
+sheet of foreign letter-paper. He told this difficulty to his wife, as
+it was his habit to tell her all his difficulties; and he found her, as
+usual, able to give him assistance.
+
+"There is always foreign letter-paper in papa's desk," she said; "you
+can use that."
+
+"But, my dear Rosy, I could not think of opening your father's desk in
+his absence."
+
+"And why not?" cried Rosamond, laughing. "Do you think papa has any
+secrets hidden there; or that he keeps some mysterious packet of old
+love-letters tied up with a blue ribbon, which he would not like your
+prying eyes to discover? You may open the desk, George. I give you my
+permission; and if papa should be angry, the blame shall fall upon me
+alone."
+
+The desk was a large old-fashioned piece of furniture, which stood in
+the corner of Captain Duncombe's favourite sitting-room.
+
+"But how am I to open this ponderous piece of machinery?" asked George.
+"It seems to be locked."
+
+"It is locked," answered his wife. "Luckily I happen to have a key
+which precisely fits it. There, sir, is the key; and now I leave you to
+devote yourself to business, while I go to see about dinner."
+
+She held up her pretty rosy lips to be kissed, and then tripped away,
+leaving the captain to achieve a duty for which he had no particular
+relish.
+
+He unlocked the desk, and found a quire of letter-paper. He dipped a
+pen in ink, tried it, and then began to write.
+
+He wrote, "_London, July 20th_," and "_My Dear Boyd_;" and having
+written thus much, he came to a stop. The easiest part of the letter
+was finished.
+
+Captain Jernam sat with his elbows resting on the table, looking
+straight before him, in pure absence of mind. As he did so, his eyes
+were caught suddenly by an object lying amongst the pens and pencils in
+the tray before him.
+
+That object was a bent gold coin.
+
+His face grew pale as he snatched up the coin, and examined it closely.
+It was a small Brazilian coin, bent and worn, and on one side of it was
+scratched the initial "_G_."
+
+That small battered coin was very familiar to George Jernam's gaze, and
+it was scarcely strange if the warm life-blood ebbed from his cheeks,
+and left them ashy pale.
+
+The coin was a keepsake which he had given to his murdered brother,
+Valentine, on the eve of their last parting.
+
+And he found it here--here, in Joseph Duncombe's desk!
+
+For some moments he sat aghast, motionless, powerless even to think. He
+could not realize the full weight of this strange discovery. He could
+only remember the warm breath of the tropical night on which he and his
+brother had bidden each other farewell--the fierce light of the
+tropical stars beneath which they had stood when they parted.
+
+Then he began to ask himself how that farewell token, the golden coin,
+which he had taken from his pocket in that parting hour, and upon which
+he had idly scratched his own initial, had come into the possession of
+Joseph Duncombe.
+
+He was not a man of the world, and he was not able to reason calmly and
+logically on the subject of his brother's untimely fate. He shared
+Joyce's rooted idea, that the escape of Valentine's murderer was only
+temporary, and that, sooner or later, accident would disclose the
+criminal.
+
+It seemed now as if the eventful moment had come. Here, on this spot,
+near the scene of his brother's disappearance, he came upon this
+token--this relic, which told that Valentine had been in some manner
+associated with Joseph Duncombe.
+
+And yet Joseph Duncombe and George had talked long and earnestly on the
+subject of the murdered sailor's fate, and in all their talk Captain
+Duncombe had never acknowledged any acquaintance with its details.
+
+This was strange.
+
+Still more incomprehensible to George Jernam was the fact that
+Valentine should have parted with the farewell token, except with his
+life, for his last words to his brother had been--
+
+"I'll keep the bit of gold, George, to my dying day, in memory of your
+fidelity and love."
+
+There had been something more between these two men than a common
+brotherhood: there had been the bond of a joyless childhood spent
+together, and their affection for each other was more than the ordinary
+love of brothers.
+
+"I don't believe he would have parted with that piece of gold," cried
+George, "not if he had been without a sixpence in the world."
+
+"And he was rich. It was the money he carried about him which tempted
+his murderer. It was near here that he met his fate--on this very spot,
+perhaps. Joyce told me that before my father-in-law built this house,
+there was a dilapidated building, which was a meeting-place for the
+vilest scoundrels in Ratcliff Highway. But how came that coin in Joseph
+Duncombe's desk?--how, unless Joseph Duncombe was concerned in my
+brother's murder?"
+
+This idea, once aroused in the mind of George Jernam, was not to be
+driven away. It seemed too hideous for reality; but it took possession
+of his mind, nevertheless, and he sat alone, trying to shut horrible
+fancies out of his brain, but trying uselessly.
+
+He remembered Joseph Duncombe's wealth. Had all that wealth been
+honestly won?
+
+He remembered the captain's restlessness--his feverish desire to run
+away from a home in which he possessed so much to render life happy.
+
+Might not that eagerness to return to the sailor's wild, roving life
+have its root in the tortures of a guilty conscience?
+
+"His very kindness to me may be prompted by a vague wish to make some
+paltry atonement for a dark wrong done my brother," thought George.
+
+He remembered Joseph Duncombe's seeming goodness of heart, and wondered
+if such a man could possibly be concerned in the darkest crime of which
+mankind can be guilty. But he remembered also that the worst and vilest
+of men were often such accomplished hypocrites as to remain unsuspected
+of evil until the hour when accident revealed their iniquity.
+
+"It is so, perhaps, with this man," thought George Jernam. "That air of
+truth and goodness may be but a mask. I know what a master-passion the
+greed of gain is with some men. It has doubtless been the passion of
+this man's heart. The wretches who lured Valentine Jernam to this house
+were tools of Joseph Duncombe's. How otherwise could this token have
+fallen into his hands?"
+
+He tried to find some other answer to this question; but he tried in
+vain. That little piece of gold seemed to fasten the dark stigma of
+guilt upon the absent owner of the house.
+
+"And I have shaken this man's hand!" cried George. "I am the husband of
+his daughter. I live beneath the shelter of his roof--in this house,
+which was bought perhaps with my brother's blood. Great heavens! it is
+too horrible."
+
+For two long hours George Jernam sat brooding over the strange
+discovery which had changed the whole current of his life. Rosamond
+came and peeped in at the door.
+
+"Still busy, George?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," he answered, in a strange, harsh tone, "I am very busy."
+
+That altered voice alarmed the loving wife. She crept into the room,
+and stood behind her husband's chair.
+
+"George," she said, "your voice sounded so strange just now; you are
+not ill, are you, darling?"
+
+"No, no; I only want to be alone. Go, Rosamond."
+
+The wife could not fail to be just a little offended by her husband's
+manner. The pretty rosy lips pouted, and then tears came into the
+bright blue eyes.
+
+George Jernam's head was bent upon his clasped hands, and he took no
+heed of his wife's sorrow. She could not leave him without one more
+anxious question.
+
+"Is there anything amiss with you, George?" she asked.
+
+"Nothing that you can cure."
+
+The harshness of his tone, the coldness of his manner, wounded her
+heart. She said no more, but went quietly from the room.
+
+Never before had her beloved George spoken unkindly to her--never
+before had the smallest cloud obscured the calm horizon of her married
+life.
+
+After this, the dark cloud hung black and heavy over that once happy
+household; the sun never shone again upon the young wife's home.
+
+She tried to penetrate the secret of this sudden change, but she could
+not do so. She could complain of no unkindness from her husband--he
+never spoke harshly to her after that first day. His manner was gentle
+and indulgent; but it seemed as if his love had died, leaving in its
+place only a pitiful tenderness, strangely blended with sadness and
+gloom.
+
+He asked Rosamond several questions about her father's past life; but
+on that subject she could tell him very little. She had never lived
+with her father until after the building of River View Cottage, and she
+knew nothing of his existence before that time, except that he had only
+been in England during brief intervals, and that he had always come to
+see her at school when he had an opportunity of doing so.
+
+"He is the best and dearest of fathers," she said, affectionately.
+
+George Jernam asked if Captain Duncombe had been in England during that
+spring in which Valentine met his death.
+
+After a moment's reflection, Rosamond replied in the affirmative.
+
+"I remember his coming to see me that spring," she said. "He came early
+in March, and again in April, and it was then he began first to talk of
+settling in England."
+
+"And with that assurance my last hope vanishes," thought George.
+
+He had asked the question in the faint hope of hearing that Joseph
+Duncombe was far away from England at the time of the murder.
+
+A fortnight after the discovery of the Brazilian coin, George Jernam
+announced to his wife that he was about to leave her. He was going to
+the coast of Africa, he said. He had tried to reconcile himself to a
+landsman's life, and had found it unendurable.
+
+The blow fell very heavily on poor Rosamond's loving heart.
+
+"We seemed so happy, George, only two short weeks ago," she pleaded.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "I tried to be happy; but you see, the life doesn't
+suit me. Tour father couldn't rest in this house, though he had made
+himself such a comfortable home. No more can I rest here. There is a
+curse upon the house, perhaps," he added, with a bitter laugh.
+
+Rosamond burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, George, you will break my heart," she cried. "I thought our lives
+were to be so happy; and now our happiness ends all at once like a
+broken dream. It is because you are weary of me, and of my love, that
+you are going away. You promised my father that you would remain with
+me till his return."
+
+"I did, Rosamond," answered her husband, gravely, "and, as I am an
+honest man, I meant to keep that promise! I am not weary of your love--
+that is as precious to me as ever it was. But you must not continue to
+reside beneath this roof. I tell you there is a curse upon this house,
+Rosamond, and neither peace nor happiness can be the lot of those who
+dwell within its fatal walls. You must go down to Allanbay, where you
+may find kind friends, where you may be happy, dear, while I am away."
+
+"But, George, what is all this mystery?"
+
+"Ask me no questions, Rosamond, for I can answer none. Believe me when
+I tell you that you have no share in the change that has come upon me.
+My feelings towards you remain unaltered; but within the last few
+weeks I have made a discovery which has struck a death-blow to my
+happiness. I go out once more a homeless wanderer, because the quiet of
+domestic life has become unbearable to me. I want bustle, danger, hard
+work. I want to get away from my own thoughts."
+
+Rosamond in vain implored her husband to tell her more than this. He,
+so yielding of old, was on this point inflexible.
+
+Before the leaves had begun to fall in the dreary autumn days the
+"Albatross" was ready for a new voyage. The first mate took her down to
+Plymouth Harbour, there to wait the coming of her captain, who
+travelled into Devonshire by mail-coach, taking Rosamond to her future
+abode.
+
+At any other time Rosamond would have been delighted with the romantic
+beauty of that Devonian village, where her husband had selected a
+pleasant cottage for her, near his aunt's abode; but a settled
+melancholy had taken possession of the once joyous girl. She had
+brooded continually over her husband's altered conduct, and she had at
+last arrived at a terrible conclusion.
+
+She believed that he was mad. What but sudden insanity could have
+produced so great a change?--a change for which it was impossible to
+imagine a cause.
+
+"If he had been absent from me for some time, and had returned an
+altered creature, I should not be so much bewildered by the change,"
+Rosamond said to herself. "But the transformation occurred in an hour.
+He saw no strange visitor; he received no letter. No tidings of any
+kind could possibly have reached him. He entered my father's sitting-
+room a light-hearted, happy man; he came out of it gloomy and
+miserable. Can I doubt that the change is something more than any
+ordinary alteration of feeling or character?"
+
+Poor Rosamond remembered having heard of the fatal effects of
+sunstrokes--effects which have sometimes revealed themselves long after
+the occurrence of the calamity that caused them; and she told herself
+that the change in George Jernam's nature must needs be the result of
+such a calamity.
+
+She entreated her husband to consult an eminent physician as to the
+state of his health; but she dared not press her request, so coldly was
+it received.
+
+"Who told you that I was ill?" he asked; "I am not ill. All the
+physicians in Christendom could do nothing for me."
+
+After this, Rosamond could say no more. For worlds she would not have
+revealed to a stranger her sad suspicion of George Jernam's insanity.
+She could only pray that Providence would protect and guide him in his
+roving life.
+
+"The excitement and hard work of his existence on board ship may work a
+cure," she thought, trying to be hopeful. "It is very possible that the
+calm monotony of a landsman's life may have produced a bad effect upon
+his brain. I can only trust in Providence--I can only pray night and
+day for the welfare of him I love so fondly."
+
+And so they parted. George Jernam left his wife with sadness in his
+heart; but it was a kind of sadness in which love had little share.
+
+"I have thought too much of my own happiness," he said to himself, "and
+I have left my brother's death unavenged. Have I forgotten the time
+when he carried me along the lonely sea-shore in his loving arms? Have
+I forgotten the years in which he was father, mother--all the world to
+me? No; by heaven! I have not. The time has come when the one thought
+of my life must be revenge--revenge upon the murderer of my brother,
+whosoever he may be."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+                                ON GUARD.
+
+Mr. Andrew Larkspur, the police-officer, took up his abode in Percy
+Street a week after his interview with Lady Eversleigh.
+
+For a fortnight after he became an occupant of the house in which she
+lived, Honoria received no tidings from him. She knew that he went out
+early every morning, and that he returned late every night, and this
+was all that she knew respecting his movements.
+
+At the end of the fortnight, he came to her late one evening, and
+begged to be favoured with an audience.
+
+"I shall want at least two hours of your time, ma'am," he said; "and,
+perhaps, you may find it fatiguing to listen to me so late at night. If
+you'd rather defer the business till to-morrow morning--"
+
+"I would rather not defer it," answered Lady Eversleigh; "I am ready to
+listen to you for as long a time as you choose. I have been anxiously
+expecting some tidings of your movements."
+
+"Very likely, ma'am," replied Mr. Larkspur, coolly; "I know you ladies
+are given to impatience, as well as Berlin wool work, and steel beads,
+and the pianoforte, and such like. But you see, ma'am, there's not a
+living creature more unlike a race-horse than a police-officer. And
+it's just like you ladies to expect police-officers to be Flying
+Dutchmen, in a manner of speaking. I've been a hard worker in my time,
+ma'am; but I never worked harder, or stuck to my work better, than I
+have these last two weeks; and all I can say is, if I ain't dead-beat,
+it's only because it isn't in circumstances to dead-beat me."
+
+Lady Eversleigh listened very quietly to this exordium; but a slight,
+nervous twitching of her lips every now and then betrayed her
+impatience.
+
+"I am waiting to hear your news," she said, presently.
+
+"And I'm a-going to tell it, ma'am, in due course," returned the
+police-officer, drawing a bloated leather book from his pocket, and
+opening it. "I've got all down here in regular order. First and
+foremost, the baronet--he's a bad lot, is the baronet."
+
+"I do not need to hear that from your lips."
+
+"Very likely not, ma'am. But if you set me to watch a gentleman, you
+must expect I shall form an opinion about him. The baronet has lodgings
+in Villiers Street, uncommon shabby ones. I went in and took a good
+survey of him and his lodgings together, in the character of a
+bootmaker, taking home a pair of boots, which was intended for a Mr.
+Everfield in the next street, says I, and, of course, Everfield and
+Eversleigh being a'most the same names, was calculated to lead to
+inconvenient mistakes. In the character of the bootmaker, Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh tells me to get out of his room, and be--something
+uncommonly unpleasant, and unfit for the ears of ladies. In the
+character of the bootmaker, I scrapes acquaintance with a young person
+employed as housemaid, and very willing to answer questions, and be
+drawed out. From the young person employed as housemaid, I gets what I
+take the liberty to call my ground-plan of the baronet's habits;
+beginning with his late breakfast, consisting chiefly of gunpowder tea
+and cayenne pepper, and ending with the scroop of his latch-key, to be
+heard any time from two in the morning to day-break. From the young
+person employed as housemaid, I discover that my baronet always spends
+his evenings out of doors, and is known to visit a lady at Fulham very
+constant, whereby the young person employed as housemaid supposes he is
+keeping company with her. From the same young person I obtain the
+lady's address--which piece of information the young person has
+acquired in the course of taking letters to the post. The lady's
+address is Hilton House, Fulham. The lady's name has slipped my young
+person's memory, but is warranted to begin with a D."
+
+Mr. Larkspur paused to take breath, and to consult the memoranda in the
+bloated leather book.
+
+"Having ascertained this much, I had done with the young person, for
+the time being," he continued, glibly; "and I felt that my next
+business would be at Hilton House. Here I presented myself in the
+character of a twopenny postman; but here I found the servants foreign,
+and so uncommonly close that they might as well have been so many
+marble monuments, for any good that was to be got out of them. Failing
+the servants, I fell back upon the neighbours and the tradespeople; and
+from the neighbours and the tradespeople I find out that my foreign
+lady's name is Durski, and that my foreign lady gives a party every
+night, which party is made up of gentlemen. That is queer, to say the
+least of it, thinks I. A lady who gives a party every night, and whose
+visitors are all gentlemen, is an uncommonly queer customer. Having
+found out this much, my mouth watered to find out more; for a man who
+has his soul in his profession takes a pleasure in his work, ma'am; and
+if you were to offer to pay such a man double to waste his time, he
+couldn't do it. I tried the neighbours, and I tried the tradespeople,
+every way; and work 'em how I would, I couldn't get much out of 'em.
+You see, ma'am, there's scarcely a human habitation within a quarter of
+a mile of Hilton House, so, when I say neighbours, I don't mean
+neighbours in the common sense of the word. There might be
+assassination going on every night in Hilton House undiscovered, for
+there's no one lives near enough to hear the victims' groans; and if
+there was anything as good for our trade as pork-pie making out of
+murdered human victims going nowadays, ma'am, Hilton House would be the
+place where I should look for pork-pies. Well, I was almost beginning
+to lose patience, when I sat down in a fancy-stationer's shop to rest
+myself. I sat down in this shop because I was really tired, not with
+any hope of making use of my time, for I was too far away from Hilton
+House to expect any luck in the way of information from the gentleman
+behind the counter. However, when a man has devoted his life to
+ferreting out information, the habit of ferreting is apt to be very
+strong upon him; so I pass the time of day to my fancy-stationer, and
+then begins to ferret. 'Madame Durski, at Hilton House yonder, is an
+uncommonly handsome woman,' I throw out, by way of an opening.
+'Uncommonly,' replies my fancy-stationer, by which I perceive he knows
+her. 'A customer of yours, perhaps?' I throw out, promiscuous. 'Yes,'
+answers my fancy-stationer. 'A good one, too, I'll be bound,' I throw
+out, in a lively, conversational way. My fancy-stationer smiles, and
+being accustomed to study smiles, I see significance in his smile. 'A
+very good one in _some_ things,' replies my fancy-stationer, laying a
+tremendous stress upon the word _some_. 'Oh,' says I, 'gilt-edged note-
+paper and cream-coloured sealing-wax, for instance.' 'I don't sell her
+a quire of paper in a month,' answers my stationer. 'If she was as fond
+of writing letters as she is of playing cards, I think it would be
+better for her.' 'Oh, she's fond of card-playing is she?' I ask. 'Yes,'
+replies my fancy-stationer, 'I rather think she is. Your hair would
+stand on end if I were to tell you how many packs of playing-cards I've
+sold her lady-companion within the last three months. The lady-
+companion comes here at dusk with a thick black veil over her face, and
+she thinks I don't know who she is; but I do know her, and know where
+she lives, and whom she lives with.' After this I buy myself a quire of
+writing-paper, which I don't want, and I wish my fancy-stationer good
+afternoon. 'Oh, oh,' I say to myself when I get outside, 'I know the
+meaning of Madame Durski's parties now. Madame Durski's house is a
+flash gambling crib, and all those fine gentlemen in cabs and broughams
+go there to play cards.'"
+
+"The mistress of a gaming-house!" exclaimed Honoria. "A fitting
+companion for Reginald Eversleigh!"
+
+"Just so, ma'am; and a fitting companion for Mr. Victor Carrington
+likewise."
+
+"Have you found out anything about _him_?" cried Lady Eversleigh,
+eagerly.
+
+"No, ma'am, I haven't. At least, nothing in my way. I've tried his
+neighbours, and his tradespeople also, in the character of a postman,
+which is respectable, and calculated to inspire confidence. But out of
+his tradespeople I can get nothing more than the fact that he is a
+remarkably praiseworthy young man, who pays his debts regular, and is
+the very best of sons to a highly-respectable mother. There's nothing
+much in that, you know, ma'am."
+
+"Hypocrite!" murmured Lady Eversleigh. "A hypocrite so skilled in the
+vile arts of hypocrisy that he will contrive to have the world always
+on his side. And this is all your utmost address has been able to
+achieve?"
+
+"All at present, ma'am; but I live in hopes. And now I've got a bit of
+news about the baronet, which I think will astonish you. I've been
+improving my acquaintance with the young person employed as housemaid
+in Villiers Street for the last fortnight, and I find from her that my
+baronet is on very friendly terms with his first cousin, Mr. Dale, of
+the Temple."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Honoria. "These two men are the last between whom I
+should have imagined a friendship impossible."
+
+"Yes, ma'am; but so it is, notwithstanding. Mr. Douglas Dale,
+barrister-at-law, dined with his cousin, Sir Reginald, twice last week;
+and on each occasion the two gentlemen left Villiers Street together in
+a hack cab, between eight and nine o'clock. My friend, the housemaid,
+happened to hear the address given to the cabmen on both occasions; and
+on both occasions the address was Hilton House, Fulham."
+
+"Douglas Dale a gambler!" cried Honoria; "the companion of his infamous
+cousin! That is indeed ruin."
+
+"Well, certainly, ma'am, it does not seem a very lively prospect for my
+friend, D. D.," answered Mr. Larkspur, with irrepressible flippancy.
+
+"Do you know any more respecting this acquaintance?" asked Honoria.
+
+"Not yet, ma'am; but I mean to know more."
+
+"Watch then," she cried; "watch those two men. There is danger for Mr.
+Dale in any association with his cousin, Sir Reginald Eversleigh. Do
+not forget that. There is peril for him--the deadliest it may be.
+Watch them, Mr. Larkspur; watch them by day and night."
+
+"I'll do my duty, ma'am, depend upon it," replied the police officer;
+"and I'll do it well. I take a pride in my profession, and to me duty
+is a pleasure."
+
+"I will trust you."
+
+"You may, ma'am. Oh, by-the-bye, I must tell you that in this house my
+name is Andrews. Please remember that, ma'am."
+
+"Mr. Andrews, lawyer's clerk. The name of Larkspur smells too strong of
+Bow Street."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The information acquired by Andrew Larkspur was perfectly correct. An
+intimacy and companionship had arisen between Douglas Dale and his
+cousin, Reginald Eversleigh, and the two men spent much of their time
+together.
+
+Douglas Dale was still the same simple-minded, true-hearted young man
+that he had been before his uncle Oswald's death endowed him with an
+income of five thousand a year; but with the accession of wealth the
+necessity for industry ceased; and instead of a hard-working student,
+Douglas became one of the upper million, who have nothing to think of
+but the humour of the moment--now Alpine tourist, now Norwegian angler;
+anon idler in clubs and drawing-rooms; anon book collector, or amateur
+litterateur.
+
+He still occupied chambers in the Temple; he still called himself a
+barrister; but he had no longer any desire to succeed at the bar.
+
+His brother Lionel had become rector of Hallgrove, a village in
+Dorsetshire, where there was a very fine old church and a very small
+congregation. It was one of those fat livings which seem only to fall
+to the lot of rich men.
+
+Lionel had the tastes of a typical country gentleman, and he found
+ample leisure to indulge in his favourite amusement of hunting, after
+having conscientiously discharged his duties.
+
+The poor of Hallgrove had good reason to congratulate themselves on the
+fact that their rector was a rich man. Mr. Dale's charities seemed
+almost boundless to his happy parishioners.
+
+The rectory was a fine old house, situated in one of those romantic
+spots which one scarcely hopes to see out of a picture. Hill, wood, and
+water combined to make the beauty of the landscape; and amid verdant
+woods and fields the old red-brick mansion looked the perfection of an
+English homestead. It had been originally a manor-house, and some
+portions of it were very old.
+
+Douglas Dale called Hallgrove the Happy Valley. Neither of the brothers
+had yet married, and the barrister paid frequent visits to the rector.
+He was glad to find repose after the fatigue and excitement of London
+life. Like his brother, he delighted in the adventures and perils of
+the hunting field, and he was rarely absent from Hallgrove during the
+hunting season.
+
+In London he had his clubs, and the houses of friends. The manoeuvring
+mammas of the West End were very glad to welcome Mr. Dale at their
+parties. He might have danced with the prettiest girls in London every
+night of his life had he pleased.
+
+To an unmarried man, with unlimited means and no particular occupation,
+the pleasures of a life of fashionable amusement are apt to grow
+"weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable," after a certain time. Douglas
+Dale was beginning to be very tired of balls and dinner parties,
+flower-shows and morning concerts, when he happened to meet his cousin,
+Reginald Eversleigh, at a club to which both men belonged.
+
+Eversleigh could make himself very agreeable when he chose; and on this
+occasion he exerted himself to the utmost to produce a good impression
+upon the mind of Douglas Dale. Hitherto Douglas had not liked his
+cousin, Reginald; but he now began to fancy that he had been prejudiced
+against his kinsman. He felt that Reginald had some reason to consider
+himself ill-used; and with the impulsive kindness of a generous nature,
+he was ready to extend the hand of friendship to a man who had been
+beaten in the battle of life.
+
+The two men dined together at their club; they met again and again;
+sometimes by accident--sometimes by appointment. The club was one at
+which there was a good deal of quiet gambling amongst scientific whist-
+players; but until his meeting with Reginald Eversleigh, Douglas Dale
+had never been tempted to take part in a rubber.
+
+His habits changed gradually under the influence of his cousin and
+Victor Carrington. He consented to take a hand at _ecarte_ after dinner
+on one day; on another day to join at a whist-party. Three months after
+his first meeting with Reginald, he accompanied the baronet to Hilton
+House, where he was introduced to the beautiful Austrian widow.
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh played his cards very cautiously. It was only
+after he had instilled a taste for gambling into his kinsman's breast
+that he ventured to introduce him to the fashionable gaming-house
+presided over by Paulina Durski.
+
+The introduction had a sinister effect upon his destiny. He had passed
+unscathed through the furnace of London life; many women had sought to
+obtain power over him; but his heart was still in his own keeping when
+he first crossed the threshold of Hilton House.
+
+He saw Paulina Durski, and loved her. He loved her from the very first
+with a deep and faithful affection, as far above the selfish fancy of
+Reginald Eversleigh as the heaven is above the earth.
+
+But she was no longer mistress of her heart. That was given to the man
+whose baseness she knew, and whom she loved despite her better reason.
+
+Sir Reginald speedily discovered the state of his cousin's feelings. He
+had laid his plans for this result. Douglas Dale, as the adoring slave
+of Madame Durski, would be an easy dupe, and much of Sir Oswald's
+wealth might yet enrich his disinherited nephew. Victor Carrington
+looked on, and shared his spoils; but he watched Eversleigh's schemes
+with a half-contemptuous air.
+
+"You think you are doing wonders, my dear Reginald," he said; "and
+certainly, by means of Mr. Dale's losses, you and I contrive to live--
+to say nothing of our dear Madame Durski, who comes in for her share of
+the plunder. But after all, what is it? a few hundreds more or less, at
+the best. I think you may by-and-by play a better and a deeper game
+than that, Reginald, and I think I can show you how to play it."
+
+"I do not want to be mixed up in any more of your schemes," answered
+Sir Reginald, "I have had enough of them. What have they done for me?"
+
+The two men were seated in Sir Reginald's dingy sitting-room in
+Villiers Street when this conversation took place.
+
+They were sitting opposite to each other, with a little table between
+them. Victor Carrington rested his folded arms upon the table, and
+leaned across them, looking full in the face of his companion.
+
+"Look you, Reginald Eversleigh," he said, "because I have failed once,
+there is no reason that I am to fail always. The devil himself
+conspired against me last time; but the day will come when I shall have
+the devil on my side. It is yet on the cards for you to become owner of
+ten thousand a-year; and it shall be my business to make you owner of
+that income."
+
+"Stay, Carrington, do you think I would permit--?"
+
+"I ask your permission for nothing: I know you to be a weak and
+wavering coward, who of your own volition would never rise from the
+level of a ruined spendthrift and penniless vagabond. You forget,
+perhaps, that I hold a bond which gives me an interest in your
+fortunes. I do not forget. When my own wisdom counsels action, I shall
+act, without asking your advice. If I am successful, you will thank me.
+If I fail, you will reproach me for my folly. That is the way of the
+world. And now let us change the subject. When do you go down to
+Dorsetshire with your cousin, Douglas Dale?"
+
+"Why do you ask me that question?"
+
+"My curiosity is only prompted by a friendly interest in your welfare,
+and that of your relations. You are going to hunt with Lionel Dale, are
+you not?"
+
+"Yes; he has invited me to spend the remainder of the hunting season
+with him?"
+
+"At his brother's request, I believe?"
+
+"Precisely. I have not met Lionel since--since my uncle's funeral--as
+you know." Sir Reginald pronounced these last words with considerable
+hesitation. "Douglas spends Christmas with his brother, and Douglas
+wishes me to join the party. In order to gratify this wish, Lionel has
+written me a very friendly letter, inviting me down to Hallgrove
+Rectory, and I have accepted the invitation."
+
+"Nothing could be more natural. There is some talk of your buying a
+hunter for Lionel, is there not, by-the-bye?"
+
+"Yes. They know I am a tolerable judge of horseflesh, and Douglas
+wishes me to get his brother a good mount for the winter."
+
+"When is the animal to be chosen?" asked Victor, carelessly.
+
+"Immediately. We go down to Hallgrove next week, I shall select the
+horse whenever I can get Douglas to go with me to the dealer's, and
+send him down to get used to his new quarters before his hard work
+begins."
+
+"Good. Let me know when you are going to the horse-dealer's: but if you
+see me there, take no notice of me beyond a nod, and be careful not to
+attract Douglas Dale's attention to me or introduce me to him."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" asked Reginald, looking suspiciously at his
+companion.
+
+"What should I mean except what I say? I do not see how even your
+imagination can fancy any dark meaning lurking beneath the common-place
+desire to waste an afternoon in a visit to a horse-dealer's yard."
+
+"My dear Carrington, forgive me," exclaimed Reginald. "I am irritable
+and impatient. I cannot forget the misery of those last days at
+Raynham."
+
+"Yes," answered Victor Carrington: "the misery of failure."
+
+No more was said between the two men. The sway which the powerful
+intellect of the surgeon exercised over the weaker nature of his friend
+was omnipotent. Reginald Eversleigh feared Victor Carrington. And there
+was something more than this ever-present fear in his mind; there was
+the lurking hope that, by means of Carrington's scheming, he should yet
+obtain the wealth he had forfeited.
+
+The conversation above recorded took place on the day after Mr.
+Larkspur's interview with Honoria.
+
+Three days afterwards, Reginald Eversleigh and his cousin met at the
+club, for the purpose of going together to inspect the hunters on sale
+at Mr. Spavin's repository, in the Brompton Road.
+
+Dale's mail-phaeton was waiting before the door of the club, and he
+drove his cousin down to the repository.
+
+Mr. Spavin was one of the most fashionable horse-dealers of that day. A
+man who could not afford to give a handsome price had but a small
+chance of finding himself suited at Mr. Spavin's repository. For a poor
+customer the horse-dealer felt nothing but contempt.
+
+Half a dozen horsey-looking men came out of stables, loose boxes, and
+harness-rooms to attend upon the gentlemen, whose dashing mail-phaeton
+and stylish groom commanded the respect of the whole yard. The great
+Mr. Spavin himself emerged from his counting-house to ask the pleasure
+of his customers.
+
+"Carriage-horses, sir, or 'acks?" he asked. "That's a very fine pair in
+the break yonder, if you want anything showy for a mail-phaeton.
+They've been exercising in the park. All blood, sir, and not an ounce
+too much bone. A pair of hosses that would do credit to a dook."
+
+Reginald asked to see Mr. Spavin's hunters, and the grooms and keepers
+were soon busy trotting out noble-looking creatures for the inspection
+of the three gentlemen. There was a tan-gallop at the bottom of the
+yard, and up and down this the animals were paraded.
+
+Douglas Dale was much interested in the choice of the horse which he
+intended to present to his brother; and he discussed the merits of the
+different hunters with Sir Reginald Eversleigh, whose eye had lighted,
+within a minute of their entrance, upon Victor Carrington. The surgeon
+stood at a little distance from them, absorbed by the scene before him;
+but it was to be observed that his attention was given less to the
+horses than the men who brought them out of their boxes.
+
+At one of these men he looked with peculiar intensity; and this man was
+certainly not calculated to attract the observation of a stranger by
+any personal advantages of his own. He was a wizened little man, with
+red hair, a bullet-shaped head, and small, rat-like eyes.
+
+This man had very little to do with the display of the horses; but
+once, when there was a pause in the business, he opened the door of a
+loose-box, went in, and presently emerged, leading a handsome bay,
+whose splendid head was reared in a defiant attitude, as the fiery
+eyeballs surveyed the yard.
+
+"Isn't that 'Wild Buffalo?'" asked Mr. Spavin.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then you ought to know better than to bring him out," exclaimed the
+horse-dealer, angrily. "These gentlemen want a horse that a Christian
+can ride, and the 'Buffalo' isn't fit to be ridden by a Christian; not
+yet awhile at any rate. I mean to take the devil out of him before I've
+done with him, though," added Mr. Spavin, casting a vindictive glance
+at the horse.
+
+"He is rather a handsome animal," said Sir Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+"Oh, yes, he's handsome enough," answered the dealer. "His looks are no
+discredit to him; but handsome is as handsome does--that's my motter;
+and if I'd known the temper of that beast when Captain Chesterly
+offered him to me, I'd have seen the captain farther before I consented
+to buy him. However, there he is; I've got him, and I must make the
+best of him. But Jack Spavin is not the man to sell such a beast to a
+customer until the wickedness is taken out of him. When the wickedness
+is taken out of him, he'll be at your service, gentlemen, with Jack
+Spavin's best wishes."
+
+The horse was taken back to his box. Victor watched the animal and the
+groom with an intensely earnest gaze as they disappeared from his
+sight.
+
+"That's a curious-looking fellow, that groom of yours," Sir Reginald
+said to the horse-dealer.
+
+"What, Hawkins--Jim Hawkins? Yes; his looks won't make his fortune.
+He's a hard-working fellow enough in his way; but he's something like
+the horse in the matter of temper. But I think I've taken the devil out
+of _him_," said Mr. Spavin, with an ominous crack of his heavy riding-
+whip.
+
+More horses were brought out, examined, discussed, and taken back to
+their boxes. Mr. Spavin knew he had to deal with a good customer, and
+he wished to show off the resources of his stable.
+
+"Bring out 'Niagara,'" he said, presently, and in a few minutes a groom
+emerged from one of the stables, leading a magnificent bay. "Now,
+gentlemen," said Mr. Spavin, "that animal is own brother to 'Wild
+Buffalo,' and if it had not been for my knowledge of that animal's
+merits I should never have bought the 'Buffalo.' Now, there's apt to be
+a good deal of difference between human beings of the same family; but
+perhaps you'd hardly believe the difference there can be between horses
+of the same blood. That animal is as sweet a temper as you'd wish to
+have in a horse--and 'Buffalo' is a devil; yet, if you were to see the
+two horses side by side, you'd scarcely know which was which."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Sir Reginald; "I should like, for the curiosity of
+the thing, to see the two animals together."
+
+Mr. Spavin gave his orders, and presently Jim Hawkins, the queer-
+looking groom, brought out "Wild Buffalo."
+
+The two horses were indeed exactly alike in all physical attributes,
+and the man who could have distinguished one from the other must have
+had a very keen eye.
+
+"There they are, gents, as like as two peas, and if it weren't for a
+small splash of white on the inner side of 'Buffalo's' left hock,
+there's very few men in my stable could tell one from the other."
+
+Victor Carrington, observing that Dale was talking to the horse-dealer,
+drew near the animal, with the air of an interested stranger, and
+stooped to examine the white mark. It was a patch about as large as a
+crown-piece.
+
+"'Niagara' seems a fine creature," he said.
+
+"Yes," replied a groom; "I don't think there's many better horses in
+the place than 'Niagara.'"
+
+When Douglas Dale returned to the examination of the two horses, Victor
+Carrington drew Sir Reginald aside, unperceived by Dale.
+
+"I want you to choose the horse 'Niagara' for Lionel Dale," he said,
+when they were beyond the hearing of Douglas.
+
+"Why that horse in particular?"
+
+"Never mind why," returned Carrington, impatiently. "You can surely do
+as much as that to oblige me."
+
+"Be it so," answered Sir Reginald, with assumed carelessness; "the
+horse seems a good one."
+
+There was a little more talk and consultation, and then Douglas Dale
+asked his cousin which horse he liked best among those they had seen.
+
+"Well, upon my word, if you ask my opinion, I think there is no better
+horse than that bay they call 'Niagara;' and if you and Spavin can
+agree as to price, you may settle the business without further
+hesitation."
+
+Douglas Dale acted immediately upon the baronet's advice. He went into
+Mr. Spavin's little counting-house, and wrote a cheque for the price of
+the horse on the spot, much to that gentleman's satisfaction. While
+Douglas Dale was writing this cheque, Victor Carrington waited in the
+yard outside the counting-house.
+
+He took this opportunity of addressing Hawkins, the groom.
+
+"I want a job done in your line," he said, "and I think you'd be just
+the man to manage it for me. Have you any spare time?"
+
+"I've an hour or two, now and then, of a night, after my work's over,"
+answered the man.
+
+"At what time, and where, are you to be met with after your work?"
+
+"Well, sir, my own home is too poor a place for a gentleman like you to
+come to; but if you don't object to a public--and a very respectable
+public, too, in its way--there's the 'Goat and Compasses,' three doors
+down the little street as you'll see on your left, as you leave this
+here yard, walking towards London."
+
+"Yes, yes," interrupted Victor, impatiently; "you are to be found at the
+'Goat and Compasses'?"
+
+"I mostly am, sir, after nine o'clock of an evening--summer and
+winter--"
+
+"That will do," exclaimed Victor, with a quick glance at the door of
+the counting-house. "I will see you at the 'Goat and Compasses' to-
+night, at nine. Hush!"
+
+Eversleigh and his cousin were just emerging from the counting-house,
+as Victor Carrington gave the groom a warning gesture.
+
+"Mum's the word," muttered the man.
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Douglas Dale took their places in the
+phaeton, and drove away.
+
+Victor Carrington arrived at half-past eight at the "Goat and
+Compasses"--a shabby little public-house in a shabby little street.
+Here he found Mr. Hawkins lounging in the bar, waiting for him, and
+beguiling the time by the consumption of a glass of gin.
+
+"There's no one in the parlour, sir," said Hawkins, as he recognized
+Mr. Carrington; "and if you'll step in there, we shall be quite
+private. I suppose there ain't no objection to this gent and me
+stepping into the parlour, is there, Mariar?" Mr. Hawkins asked of a
+young lady, in a very smart cap, who officiated as barmaid.
+
+"Well, you ain't a parlour customer in general, Mr. Hawkins; but I
+suppose if the gent wants to speak to you, there'll be no objection to
+your making free with the parlour, promiscuous," answered the damsel,
+with supreme condescension. "And if the gent has any orders to give,
+I'm ready to take 'em," she added, pertly.
+
+Victor Carrington ordered a pint of brandy.
+
+The parlour was a dingy little apartment, very much the worse for stale
+tobacco smoke, and adorned with gaudy racing-prints. Here Mr.
+Carrington seated himself, and told his companion to take the place
+opposite him.
+
+"Fill yourself a glass of brandy," he said. And Mr. Hawkins was not
+slow to avail himself of the permission. "Now, I'm a man who does not
+care to beat about the bush, my friend Hawkins," said Victor, "so I'll
+come to business at once. I've taken a fancy to that bay horse, 'Wild
+Buffalo,' and I should like to have him; but I'm not a rich man, and I
+can't afford a high price for my fancy. What I've been thinking,
+Hawkins, is that, with your help, I might get 'Wild Buffalo' a
+bargain?"
+
+"Well, I should rather flatter myself you might, guv'nor," answered the
+groom, coolly, "an uncommon good bargain, or an uncommon bad one,
+according to the working out of circumstances. But between friends,
+supposing that you was me, and supposing that I was you, you know, I
+wouldn't have him at no price--no, not if Spavin sold him to you for
+nothing, and threw you in a handsome pair of tops and a bit of pink
+gratis likewise."
+
+Mr. Hawkins had taken a second glass of brandy by this time; and the
+brandy provided by Victor Carrington, taken in conjunction with the gin
+purchased by himself was beginning to produce a lively effect upon his
+spirits.
+
+"The horse is a dangerous animal to handle, then?" asked Victor.
+
+"When you can ride a flash of lightning, and hold that well in hand,
+you may be able to ride 'Wild Buffalo,' guv'nor," answered the groom,
+sententiously; "but _till_ you have got your hand in with a flash of
+lightning, I wouldn't recommend you to throw your leg across the
+'Buffalo.'"
+
+"Come, come," remonstrated Victor, "a good rider could manage the
+brute, surely?"
+
+"Not the cove as drove a mail-phaeton and pair in the skies, and was
+chucked out of it, which served him right--not even that sky-larking
+cove could hold in the 'Buffalo.' He's got a mouth made of cast-iron,
+and there ain't a curb made, work 'em how you will, that's any more to
+him than a lady's bonnet-ribbon. He got a good name for his jumping as
+a steeple-chaser; but when he'd been the death of three jocks and two
+gentlemen riders, folks began to get rather shy of him and his jumping;
+and then Captain Chesterly come and planted him on my guv'nor, which
+more fool my governor to take him at any price, says I. And now, sir,
+I've stood your friend, and give you a honest warning; and perhaps it
+ain't going too far to say that I've saved your life, in a manner of
+speaking. So I hope you'll bear in mind that I'm a poor man with a
+fambly, and that I can't afford to waste my time in giving good advice
+to strange gents for nothing."
+
+Victor Carrington took out his purse, and handed Mr. Hawkins a
+sovereign. A look of positive rapture mingled with the habitual cunning
+of the groom's countenance as he received this donation.
+
+"I call that handsome, guv'nor," he exclaimed, "and I ain't above
+saying so."
+
+"Take another glass of brandy, Hawkins."
+
+"Thank you kindly, sir; I don't care if I do," answered the groom; and
+again he replenished his glass with the coarse and fiery spirit.
+
+"I've given you that sovereign because I believe you are an honest
+fellow," said the surgeon. "But in spite of the bad character you have
+given the 'Buffalo' I should like to get him."
+
+"Well, I'm blest," exclaimed Mr. Hawkins; "and you don't look like a
+hossey gent either, guv'nor."
+
+"I am not a 'horsey gent.' I don't want the 'Buffalo' for myself. I
+want him for a hunting-friend. If you can get me the brute a dead
+bargain, say for twenty pounds, and can get a week's holiday to bring
+him down to my friend's place in the country, I'll give you a five-
+pound note for your trouble."
+
+The eyes of Mr. Hawkins glittered with the greed of gold as Victor
+Carrington said this; but, eager as he was to secure the tempting
+prize, he did not reply very quickly.
+
+"Well, you see, guv'nor, I don't think Mr. Spavin would consent to sell
+the 'Buffalo' yet awhile. He'd be afraid of mischief, you know. He's a
+very stiff 'un, is Spavin, and he comes it uncommon bumptious about his
+character, and so on. I really don't think he'd sell the 'Buffalo' till
+he's broke, and the deuce knows how long it may take to break him."
+"Oh, nonsense; Spavin would be glad to get rid of the beast, depend
+upon it. You've only got to say you want him for a friend of yours, a
+jockey, who'll break him in better than any of Spavin's people could do
+it."
+
+James Hawkins rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"Well, perhaps if I put it in that way it might answer," he said, after
+a meditative pause. "I think Spavin might sell him to a jock, where he
+would not part with him to a gentleman. I know he'd be uncommon glad to
+get rid of the brute." "Very well, then," returned Victor Carrington;
+"you manage matters well, and you'll be able to earn your fiver. Be
+sure you don't let Spavin think it's a gentleman who's sweet upon the
+horse. Do you think you are able to manage the business?"
+
+The groom laid his finger on his nose, and winked significantly.
+
+"I've managed more difficult businesses than that, guv'nor," he said.
+"When do you want the animal?"
+
+"Immediately."
+
+ "Could you make it convenient to slip down here to-morrow night, or
+shall I wait upon you at your house, guv'nor?"
+
+"I will come here to-morrow night, at nine."
+
+"Very good, guv'nor; in which case you shall hear news of 'Wild
+Buffalo.' But all I hope is, when you do present him to your friend,
+you'll present the address-card of a respectable undertaker at the same
+time."
+
+"I am not afraid."
+
+"As you please, sir. You are the individual what comes down with the
+dibbs; and you are the individual what's entitled to make your choice."
+
+Victor Carrington saw that the brandy had by this time exercised a
+potent influence over Mr. Spavin's groom; but he had full confidence in
+the man's power to do what he wanted done. James Hawkins was gifted
+with that low cunning which peculiarly adapts a small villain for the
+service of a greater villain.
+
+At nine o'clock on the following evening, the two met again at the
+"Goat and Compasses." This time their interview was very brief and
+business-like.
+
+"Have you succeeded?" asked Victor.
+
+"I have, guv'nor, like one o'clock. Mr. Spavin will take five-and-
+twenty guineas from my friend the jock; but wouldn't sell the 'Buffalo'
+to a gentleman on no account."
+
+"Here is the money," answered Victor, handing the groom five bank-notes
+for five pounds each, and twenty-five shillings in gold and silver.
+"Have you asked for a holiday?"
+
+"No, guv'nor; because, between you and me, I don't suppose I should get
+it if I did ask. I shall make so bold as to take it without asking.
+Sham ill, and send my wife to say as I'm laid up in bed at home, and
+can't come to work."
+
+"Hawkins, you are a diplomatist," exclaimed Victor; "and now I'll make
+short work of my instructions. There's a bit of paper, with the name of
+the place to which you're to take the animal--Frimley Common,
+Dorsetshire. You'll start to-morrow at daybreak, and travel as quickly
+as you can without taking the spirit out of the horse. I want him to be
+fresh when he reaches my friend."
+
+Mr. Hawkins gave a sinister laugh.
+
+"Don't you be afraid of that, sir. 'Wild Buffalo' will be fresh enough,
+you may depend," he said.
+
+"I hope he may," replied Carrington, calmly. "When you reach Frimley
+Common--it's little more than a village--go to the best inn you find
+there, and wait till you either see me, or hear from me. You
+understand?"
+
+"Yes, guv'nor."
+
+"Good; and now, good-night."
+
+With this Carrington left the "Goat and Compasses." As he went out of
+the public-house, an elderly man, in the dress of a mechanic, who had
+been lounging in the bar, followed him into the street, and kept behind
+him until he entered Hyde Park, to cross to the Edgware Road; there the
+man fell back and left him.
+
+"He's going home, I suppose," muttered the man; "and there's nothing
+more for me to do to-night."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+                          DOWN IN DORSETSHIRE.
+
+There were two inns in the High Street of Frimley. The days of mail-
+coaches were not yet over, and the glory of country inns had not
+entirely departed. Several coaches passed through Frimley in the course
+of the day, and many passengers stopped to eat and drink and refresh
+themselves at the quaint old hostelries; but it was not often that the
+old-fashioned bed-chambers were occupied, even for one night, by any
+one but a commercial traveller; and it was a still rarer occurrence for
+a visitor to linger for any time at Frimley.
+
+There was nothing to see in the place; and any one travelling for
+pleasure would have chosen rather to stay in the more picturesque
+village of Hallgrove.
+
+It was therefore a matter of considerable surprise to the landlady of
+the "Rose and Crown," when a lady and her maid alighted from the
+"Highflyer" coach and demanded apartments, which they would be likely
+to occupy for a week or more.
+
+The lady was so plainly attired, in a dress and cloak of dark woollen
+stuff, and the simplest of black velvet bonnets, that it was only by
+her distinguished manner, and especially graceful bearing, that Mrs.
+Tippets, the landlady, was able to perceive any difference between the
+mistress and the maid.
+
+"I am travelling in Dorsetshire for my health," said the lady, who was
+no other than Honoria Eversleigh, "and the quiet of this place suits
+me. You will be good enough to prepare rooms for myself and my maid."
+
+"You would like your maid's bed-room to be adjoining your own, no
+doubt, madam?" hazarded the landlady.
+
+"No," answered Honoria; "I do not wish that; I prefer entire privacy in
+my own apartment."
+
+"As you please, madam--we have plenty of bedrooms."
+
+The landlady of the "Rose and Crown" ushered her visitors into the best
+sitting-room the house afforded--an old-fashioned apartment, with a
+wide fire-place, high wooden mantel-piece, and heavily-timbered
+ceiling--a room which seemed to belong to the past rather than the
+present.
+
+Lady Eversleigh sat by the table in a thoughtful attitude, while the
+fire was being lighted and a tray of tea-things arranged for that
+refreshment which is most welcome of all others to an Englishwoman.
+Jane Payland stood by the opposite angle of the mantel-piece, watching
+her mistress with a countenance almost as thoughtful as that of Honoria
+herself.
+
+It was in the wintry dusk that these two travellers arrived at Frimley.
+Jane Payland walked to one of the narrow, old-fashioned windows, and
+looked out into the street, where lights were burning dimly here and
+there.
+
+"What a strange old place, ma'am," she said.
+
+Honoria had forbidden her to say "my lady" since their departure from
+Raynham.
+
+"Yes," her mistress answered, absently; "it is a world-forgotten old
+place."
+
+"But the rest and change will, no doubt, be beneficial, ma'am," said
+Miss Payland, in her most insinuating tone; "and I am sure you must
+require change and fresh country air after being pent up in a London
+street."
+
+Lady Eversleigh shook off her abstraction of manner, and turned towards
+her servant, with a calm, serious gaze.
+
+"I want change of scene, and the fresh breath of country air, Jane,"
+she said, gravely; "but it is not for those I came to Frimley, and you
+know that it is not. Why should we try to deceive each other? The
+purpose of my life is a very grave one; the secret of my coming and
+going is a very bitter secret, and if I do not choose to share it with
+you, I withhold nothing that you need care to know. Let me play my part
+unwatched and unquestioned. You will find yourself well rewarded by and
+by for your forbearance and devotion. Be faithful to me, my good girl;
+but do not try to discover the motive of my actions, and believe, even
+when they seem most strange to you, that they are justified by one
+great purpose."
+
+Jane Payland's eyelids drooped before the serious and penetrating gaze
+of her mistress.
+
+"You may feel sure of my being faithful, ma'am," she answered,
+promptly; "and as to curiosity, I should be the very last creature upon
+this earth to try to pry into your secrets."
+
+Honoria made no reply to this protestation. She took her tea in
+silence, and seemed as if weighed down by grave and anxious thoughts.
+After tea she dismissed Jane, who retired to the bed-room allotted to
+her, which had been made very comfortable, and enlivened by a wood
+fire, that blazed cheerily in the wide grate.
+
+Jane Payland's bedroom opened out of a corridor, at the end of which
+was the door of the sitting-room occupied by Honoria. Jane was,
+therefore, able to keep watch upon all who went to and fro from the
+sitting-room to the other part of the house. She sat with her door a
+little way open for this purpose.
+
+"My lady expects some one to-night, I know," she thought to herself, as
+she seated herself at a little table, and began some piece of fancy-
+work.
+
+She had observed that during tea Lady Eversleigh had twice looked at
+her watch. Why should she be so anxious about the time, if she were not
+awaiting some visitor, or message, or letter?
+
+For a long time Jane Payland waited, and watched, and listened, without
+avail. No one went along the corridor to the blue parlour, except the
+chambermaid who removed the tea-things.
+
+Jane looked at her own watch, and found that it was past nine o'clock.
+"Surely my lady can have no visitor to-night?" she thought.
+
+A quarter of an hour after this, she was startled by the creaking sound
+of a footstep on the uncarpeted floor of the corridor. She rose hastily
+and softly from her chair, crept to the door, and peeped put into the
+passage. As she did so, she saw a man approaching, dressed like a
+countryman, in a clumsy frieze coat, and with his chin so muffled in a
+woollen scarf, and his felt hat drawn so low over his eyes, that there
+was nothing visible of him but the end of a long nose.
+
+That long, beak-like nose seemed strangely familiar to Miss Payland;
+and yet she could not tell where she had seen it before.
+
+The countryman went straight to the blue parlour, opened the door, and
+went in. The door closed behind him, and then Jane Payland heard the
+faint sound of voices within the apartment.
+
+It was evident that this countryman was Lady Eversleigh's expected
+guest.
+
+Jane's wonderment was redoubled by this extraordinary proceeding.
+
+"What does it all mean?" she asked herself. "Is this man some humble
+relation of my lady's? Everyone knows that her birth was obscure; but
+no one can tell where she came from. Perhaps this is her native place,
+and it is to see her own people she comes here."
+
+Jane was obliged to be satisfied with this explanation, for no other
+was within her reach; but it did not altogether allay her curiosity.
+The interview between Lady Eversleigh and her visitor was a long one.
+It was half-past ten o'clock before the strange-looking countryman
+quitted the blue parlour.
+
+This occurred three days before Christmas-day. On the following evening
+another stranger arrived at Frimley by the mail-coach, which passed
+through the quiet town at about seven o'clock.
+
+This traveller did not patronise the "Rose and Crown" inn, though the
+coach changed horses at that hostelry. He alighted from the outside of
+the coach while it stood before the door of the "Rose and Crown,"
+waited until his small valise had been fished out of the boot, and then
+departed through the falling snow, carrying this valise, which was his
+only luggage.
+
+He walked at a rapid pace to the other end of the long, straggling
+street, where there was a humbler inn, called the "Cross Keys." Here he
+entered, and asked for a bed-room, with a good fire, and something or
+other in the way of supper.
+
+It was not till he had entered the room that the traveller took off the
+rough outer coat, the collar of which had almost entirely concealed his
+face. When he did so, he revealed the sallow countenance of Victor
+Carrington, and the flashing black eyes, which to-night shone with a
+peculiar brightness.
+
+After he had eaten a hasty meal, he went out into the inn-yard, despite
+the fast-falling snow, to smoke a cigar, he said, to one of the
+servants whom he encountered on his way.
+
+He had not been long in the yard, when a man emerged from one of the
+adjacent buildings, and approached him in a slow and stealthy manner.
+
+"All right, guv'nor," said the man, in a low voice; "I've been on the
+look-out for you for the last two days."
+
+The man was Jim Hawkins, Mr. Spavin's groom.
+
+"Is 'Wild Buffalo' here?" asked Victor.
+
+"Yes, sir; as safe and as comfortable as if he'd been foaled here."
+
+"And none the worse for his journey?"
+
+"Not a bit of it, sir. I brought him down by easy stages, knowing you
+wanted him kept fresh. And fresh he is--oncommon. P'raps you'd like to
+have a look at him."
+
+"I should."
+
+The groom led Mr. Carrington to a loose box, and the surgeon had the
+pleasure of beholding the bay horse by the uncertain light of a stable
+lantern.
+
+The animal was, indeed, a noble specimen of his race.
+
+It was only in the projecting eye-ball, the dilated nostril, the
+defiant carriage of the head, that his evil temper exhibited itself.
+Victor Carrington stood at a little distance from him, contemplating
+him in silence for some minutes.
+
+"Have you ever noticed that spot?" asked Victor, presently, pointing to
+the white patch inside the animal's hock.
+
+"Well, sir, one can't help noticing it when one knows where to look for
+it, though p'raps a stranger mightn't see it. That there spot's a kind
+of a blemish, you see, to my mind; for, if it wasn't for that, the
+brute wouldn't have a white hair about him."
+
+"That's just what I've been thinking," answered Victor. "Now, my friend
+is just the sort of man to turn up his nose at a horse with anything in
+the way of a blemish about him, especially if he sees it before he has
+tried the animal, and found out his merits. But I've hit upon a plan
+for getting the better of him, and I want you to carry it out for me."
+
+"I'm your man, guv'nor, whatever it is."
+
+The surgeon produced a phial from his pocket, and with the phial a
+small painters' brush.
+
+"In this bottle there's a brown dye," he said; "and I want you to paint
+the white spot with that brown dye after you've groomed the 'Buffalo,'
+so that whenever my friend comes to claim the horse the brute may be
+ready for him. You must apply the dye three or four times, at short
+intervals. It's a pretty fast one, and it'll take a good many pails of
+water to wash it out."
+
+Jim Hawkins laughed heartily at the idea of this manoeuvre.
+
+"Why you are a rare deep one, guv'nor," he exclaimed; "that there game
+is just like the canary dodge, what they do so well down Seven Dials
+way. You ketches yer sparrer, and you paints him a lively yeller, and
+then you sells him to your innocent customer for the finest canary as
+ever wabbled in the grove--a little apt to be mopish at first, but
+warranted to sing beautiful as soon as ever he gets used to his new
+master and missus. And, oh! don't he just sing beautiful--not at all
+neither."
+
+"There's the bottle, Hawkins, and there's the brush. You know what
+you've got to do."
+
+"All right, guv'nor."
+
+"Good night, then," said Victor, as he left the stable.
+
+He did not stay to finish his cigar under the fast-falling snow; but
+walked back to his own room, where he slept soundly.
+
+He was astir very early the next morning. He went down stairs, after
+breakfasting in his own room, saw the landlord, and hired a good strong
+horse, commonly used by the proprietor of the "Cross Keys" on all his
+journeys to and from the market-town and outlying villages.
+
+Victor Carrington mounted this horse, and rode across the Common to the
+village of Hallgrove.
+
+He stopped to give his horse a drink of water before a village inn, and
+while stopping to do this he asked a few questions of the ostler.
+
+"Whereabouts is Hallgrove Rectory?" he asked.
+
+"About a quarter of a mile farther on, sir," answered the man; "you
+can't miss it if you keep along that road. A big red house, by the side
+of a river."
+
+"Thanks. This is a great place for hunting, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, that it be, sir. The Horsley foxhounds are a'most allus meeting
+somewheres about here."
+
+"When do they meet next?"
+
+"The day arter to-morrow--Boxing-day, sir. They're to meet in the field
+by Hallgrove Ferry, a mile and a quarter beyond the rectory, at ten
+o'clock in the morning. It's to be a reg'lar grand day's sport, I've
+heard say. Our rector is to ride a new horse, wot's been given to him
+by his brother."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes, sir; I war down at the rectory stables yesterday arternoon, and
+see the animal--a splendid bay, rising sixteen hands."
+
+Carrington turned his horse's head in the direction of Hallgrove
+Rectory. He knew enough of the character of Lionel Dale to be aware
+that no opposition would be made to his loitering about the premises.
+He rode boldly up to the door, and asked for the rector. He was out,
+the servant said, but would the gentleman walk in and wait, or would he
+leave his name. Mr. Dale would be in soon; he had gone out with Captain
+and Miss Graham. Victor Carrington smiled involuntarily as he heard
+mention made of Lydia. "So you are here, too," he thought; "it is just
+as well you should not see me on this occasion, as I am not helping
+your game now, as I did in the case of Sir Oswald, but spoiling it."
+
+No, the stranger gentleman thanked the man; he would not wait to see
+Mr. Dale (he had carefully ascertained that he was out before riding up
+to the house); but if the servant would show him the way, he would be
+glad, to get out on the lower road; he understood the rectory grounds
+opened upon it, at a little distance from the house. Certainly the man
+could show him--nothing easier, if the gentleman would take the path to
+the left, and the turn by the shrubbery, he would pass by the stables,
+and the lower road lay straight before him. Victor Carrington complied
+with these directions, but his after-conduct did not bear out the
+impression of his being in a hurry, which his words and manner had
+conveyed to the footman. It was at least an hour after he had held the
+above-mentioned colloquy, when Victor Carrington, having made himself
+thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the rector's premises,
+issued from a side-gate, and took the lower road, leading back to
+Frimley.
+
+Then he went straight to the stable-yard, saw Mr. Spavin's groom, and
+dismissed him.
+
+"I shall take the 'Buffalo' down to my friend's place this afternoon,"
+he said to Hawkins. "Here's your money, and you can get back to London
+as soon as you like. I think my friend will be very well pleased with
+his bargain."
+
+"Ay, ay," said Mr. Hawkins, whose repeated potations of execrable
+brandy had rendered him tolerably indifferent to all that passed around
+him, and who was actuated by no other feeling than a lively desire to
+obtain, the future favours of a liberal employer; "he's got to take
+care of hisself, and we've got to take care of ourselves, and that's
+all about it."
+
+And then Mr. Hawkins, with something additional to the stipulated
+reward in his pocket, and a pint bottle of his favourite stimulant to
+refresh him on the way, took himself off, and Carrington saw no more of
+him. The people about the inn saw very little of Carrington, but it was
+with some surprise that the ostler received his directions to saddle
+the horse which stood in the stable, just when the last gleam of the
+short winter's daylight was dying out on Christmas-day. Carrington had
+not stirred beyond the precincts of the inn all the morning and
+afternoon. The strange visitor was all uninfluenced either by the
+devotional or the festive aspects of the season. He was quite alone,
+and as he sat in his cheerless little bedroom at the small country inn,
+and brooded, now over a pocket volume, thickly noted in his small, neat
+handwriting, now over the plans which were so near their
+accomplishment, he exulted in that solitude--he gave loose to the
+cynicism which was the chief characteristic of his mind. He cursed the
+folly of the idiots for whom Christmas-time had any special meaning,
+and secretly worshipped his own idols--money and power.
+
+The horse was brought to him, and Carrington mounted him without any
+difficulty, and rode away in the gathering gloom. "Wild Buffalo" gave
+him no trouble, and he began to feel some misgivings as to the truth of
+the exceedingly bad character he had received with the animal.
+Supposing he should not be the unmanageable devil he was
+represented,--supposing all his schemes came to grief, what then? Why,
+then, there were other ways of getting rid of Lionel Dale, and he
+should only be the poorer by the purchase of a horse. On the other
+hand, "Wild Buffalo," plodding along a heavy country road, almost in
+the dark, and after the probably not too honestly dispensed feeding of
+a village inn, which Carrington had not personally superintended, was
+no doubt a very different animal to what he might be expected to prove
+himself in the hunting-field. Pondering upon these probabilities,
+Victor Carrington rode slowly on towards Hallgrove. He had taken
+accurate observations; he had nicely calculated time and place. All the
+servants, tenants, and villagers were gathered together under Lionel
+Dale's hospitable roof. To the feasting had succeeded games and
+story-telling, and the absorbing gossip of such a reunion. That which
+Victor Carrington had come to do, he did successfully; and when he
+returned to his inn, and gave over his horse to the care of the ostler,
+no one but he, not even the man who was there listening to every word
+spoken among the servants at the rectory, and eagerly scanning every
+face there, knew that "Niagara" was in the inn-stable, and "Wild
+Buffalo" in the stall at Hallgrove.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+               ARCH-TRAITOR WITHIN, ARCH-PLOTTER WITHOUT.
+
+The guests at Hallgrove Rectory this Christmas-time were Douglas Dale,
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh, a lady and gentleman called Mordaunt, and
+their two pretty, fair-faced daughters, and two other old friends of
+the rector's, one of whom is very familiar to us.
+
+Those two were Gordon Graham and his sister Lydia--the woman whose
+envious hatred had aided in that vile scheme by which Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh's happiness had been suddenly blighted. The Dales and Gordon
+Graham had been intimate from boyhood, when they had been school-
+fellows at Eton. Since Sir Oswald's death had enriched the two
+brothers, Gordon Graham had taken care that his acquaintance with them
+should not be allowed to lapse, but should rather be strengthened. It
+was by means of his manoeuvring that the invitation for Christmas had
+been given, and that he and his sister were comfortable domiciled for
+the winter season beneath the rector's hospitably roof.
+
+Gordon Graham had been very anxious to secure this invitation. Every
+day that passed made him more and more anxious that his sister should
+make a good marriage. Her thirtieth birthday was alarmingly near at
+hand. Careful as she was of her good looks, the day must soon come when
+her beauty would fade, and she would find herself among the ranks of
+confirmed old maids.
+
+If Gordon Graham found her a burden now, how much greater burden would
+she be to him then! As the cruel years stole by, and brought her no
+triumph, no success, her temper grew more imperious, while the quarrels
+which marred the harmony of the brother and sister's affection became
+more frequent and more violent.
+
+Beyond this one all-sufficient reason, Gordon Graham had his own
+selfish motives for seeking to secure his sister a rich husband. The
+purse of a wealthy brother-in-law must, of course, be always more or
+less open to himself; and he was not the man to refrain from obtaining
+all he could from such a source.
+
+In Lionel Dale he saw a man who would be the easy victim of a woman's
+fascinations, the generous dupe of an adventurer. Lionel Dale was,
+therefore, the prize which Lydia should try to win.
+
+The brother and sister were in the habit of talking to each other very
+plainly.
+
+"Now, Lydia," said the captain, after he had read Lionel Dale's letter
+for the young lady's benefit, "it will be your fault if you do not come
+back from Hallgrove the affianced wife of this man. There was a time
+when you might have tried for heavier stakes; but at thirty, a husband
+with five thousand a year is not to be sneezed at."
+
+"You need not be so fond of reminding me of my age," Lydia returned
+with a look of anger. "You seem to forget that you are five years my
+senior."
+
+"I forget nothing, my dear girl. But there is no parallel between your
+case and mine. For a man, age is nothing--for a woman, everything; and
+I regret to be obliged to remember that you are approaching your
+thirtieth birthday. Fortunately, you don't look more than seven-and-
+twenty; and I really think, if you play your cards well, you may secure
+this country rector. A country rector is not much for a woman who has
+set her cap at a duke, but he is better than nothing; and as the case
+is really growing rather desperate, you must play your cards with
+unusual discrimination this time, Lydia. You must, upon my word."
+
+"I am tired of playing my cards," answered Miss Graham, contemptuously.
+"It seems as if life was always to be a losing game for me, let me play
+my cards how I will. I begin to think there is a curse upon me, and
+that no act of mine will ever prosper. Who was that man, in your Greek
+play, who guessed some inane conundrum, and was always getting into
+trouble afterwards? I begin to think there really is a fatality in
+these things."
+
+She turned away from her brother impatiently, and seated herself at her
+piano. She played a few bars of a waltz with a listless air, while the
+captain lighted a cigar, and stepped out upon the little balcony,
+overhanging the dull, foggy street.
+
+The brother and sister occupied lodgings in one of the narrow streets
+of Mayfair. The apartments were small, shabbily furnished,
+inconvenient, and expensive; but the situation was irreproachable, and
+the haughty Lydia could only exist in an irreproachable situation.
+
+Captain Graham finished his cigar, and went out to his club, leaving
+his sister alone, discontented, gloomy, sullen, to get through the day
+as best she might.
+
+The time had been when the prospect of a visit to Hallgrove Rectory
+would have seemed very pleasant to her. But that time was gone. The
+haughty spirit was soured by disappointment, the selfish nature
+embittered by defeat.
+
+There was a glass over the mantel-piece. Lydia leaned her arms upon the
+marble slab, and contemplated the dark face in the mirror.
+
+It was a handsome face: but a cloud of sullen pride obscured its
+beauty.
+
+"I shall never prosper," she said, as she looked at herself. "There is
+some mysterious ban upon me, and on my beauty. All my life I have been
+passed by for the sake of women in every attribute my inferiors. If I
+was unloved in the freshness of my youth and beauty, how can I expect
+to be loved now, when youth is past and beauty is on the wane? And yet
+my brother expects me to go through the old stage-play, in the futile
+hope of winning a rich husband!"
+
+She shrugged her shoulders with a contemptuous gesture, and turned away
+from the glass. But, although she affected to despise her brother's
+schemes, she was not slow to lend herself to them. She went out that
+morning, and walked to her milliner's house. There was a long and
+rather an unpleasant interview between the milliner and her customer,
+for Lydia Graham had sunk deeper in the mire of debt with every passing
+year, and it was only by the payment of occasional sums of money on
+account that she contrived to keep her creditors tolerably quiet.
+
+The result of to-day's interview was the same as usual. Madame Susanne,
+the milliner, agreed to find some pretty dresses for Miss Graham's
+Christmas visit--and Miss Graham undertook to pay a large instalment of
+an unreasonable bill without inspection or objection.
+
+On this snowy Christmas morning Miss Graham stood by the side of her
+host, dressed in the stylish walking costume of dark gray poplin, and
+with her glowing face set off by a bonnet of blue velvet, with soft
+gray plumes. Those were the days in which a bonnet was at once the
+aegis and the sanctuary of beauty. If you offended her, she took refuge
+in her bonnet. The police-courts have only become odious by the clamour
+of feminine complainants since the disappearance of the bonnet. It was
+awful as the helmet of Minerva, inviolable as the cestus of Diana. Nor
+was the bonnet of thirty-years ago an unbecoming headgear--a pretty
+face never looked prettier than when dimly seen in the shadowy depths
+of a coal-scuttle bonnet.
+
+Miss Graham looked her best in one of those forgotten headdresses; the
+rich velvet, the drooping feathers, set off her showy face, and Laura
+and Ellen Mordaunt, in their fresh young beauty and simple costume,
+lost by contrast with the aristocratic belle.
+
+The poor of Hallgrove parish looked forward eagerly to the coming of
+Christmas.
+
+Lionel Dale's parishioners knew that they would receive ample bounty
+from the hand of their wealthy and generous rector.
+
+He loved to welcome old and young to the noble hall of his mansion, a
+spacious and lofty chamber, which had formed part of the ancient manor-
+house, and had been of late years converted into a rectory. He loved to
+see them clad in the comfortable garments which his purse had
+provided--the old women in their gray woollen gowns and scarlet cloaks,
+the little children brightly arrayed, like so many Red Riding hoods.
+
+It was a pleasant sight truly, and there was a dimness in the rector's
+eyes, as he stood at the head of a long table, at two o'clock on
+Christmas-day, to say grace before the dinner spread for those humble
+Christmas guests.
+
+All the poor of the parish had been invited to dine with their pastor
+on Christmas-day, and this two o'clock dinner was a greater pleasure to
+the rector of Hallgrove than the repast which was to be served at seven
+o'clock for himself and the guests of his own rank.
+
+There were some people in Hallgrove and its neighbourhood who said that
+Lionel Dale took more pleasure in this life than a clergyman and a good
+Christian should take; but surely those who had seen him seated by the
+bed of sickness, or ministering to the needs of affliction, could
+scarcely have grudged him the innocent happiness of his hours of
+relaxation. The one thing in which he himself felt that he was perhaps
+open to blame, was in his passion for the sports of the field.
+
+No one who had stood amongst the little group at the top of the long
+table in Hallgrove Manor-house on this snowy Christmas morning could
+have doubted that the heart of Lionel Dale was true to the very core.
+
+He was not alone amongst his poor parishioners. His guests had
+requested permission to see the two o'clock dinner-party in the
+refectory. Lydia affected to be especially anxious for this privilege.
+
+"I long to see the dear things eating their Christmas plum-pudding,"
+she said, with almost girlish enthusiasm.
+
+Mr. Dale's parishioners did ample justice to the splendid Christmas
+fare provided for them.
+
+Lydia Graham declared she had never witnessed anything that gave her
+half so much pleasure as this humble gathering.
+
+"I would give up a whole season of fashionable dinner-parties for such
+a treat as this, Mr. Dale," she exclaimed, with an eloquent glance at
+the rector. "What a happy life yours must be! and how privileged these
+people ought to think themselves!"
+
+"I don't know that, Miss Graham," answered Lionel Dale. "I think the
+privilege is all on my side. It is the pleasure of the rich to minister
+to the wants of the poor."
+
+Lydia Graham made no reply; but her eyes expressed an admiration which
+womanly reserve might have forbidden her lips to utter.
+
+While the pudding was being eaten, Mr. Dale walked round amongst his
+humble guests, to exchange a few kindly words here and there; to shake
+hands; to pat little children's flaxen heads; to make friendly
+inquiries for the sick and absent.
+
+As he paused to talk to one of his parishioners, his attention was
+attracted by a strange face. It was the face of an old man, who sat at
+the opposite side of the table, and seemed entirely absorbed by the
+agreeable task of making his way through a noble slice of plum-pudding.
+
+"Who is that old man opposite?" asked Lionel of the agricultural
+labourer to whom he had been talking. "I don't think I know his face."
+
+"No, sir," answered the farm-labourer; "he don't belong to these parts.
+Gaffer Hayfield brought 'un. I suppose as how he's a relation of
+Gaffer's. It seems a bit of a liberty, sir; but Gaffer Hayfield always
+war a cool hand."
+
+"I don't think it a liberty, William. If the man is a relation of
+Hayfield's, there is no reason why he should not be here with the
+Gaffer," answered Lionel, good-naturedly, "I am glad to Bee that he is
+enjoying his dinner."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the farm-labourer, with a grin; "he seems to have
+an oncommon good twist of his own, wheresoever he belongs to."
+
+No more was said about the strange guest--who was an old man, with very
+white hair, which hung low over his eyebrows; and very white whiskers,
+which almost covered his cheeks. He had a queer, bird-like aspect, and
+a nose that was as sharp as the beak of any of the rooks cawing
+hoarsely amongst the elms of Hallgrove that snowy Christmas-day.
+
+After the dinner in the old hall, Lionel Dale and his guests returned
+to their own quarters; Mrs. Mordaunt and the three younger ladies
+walked in the grounds, with Douglas Dale and Sir Reginald Eversleigh in
+attendance upon them.
+
+Miss Graham was the last woman in the world to forget that the income
+of Douglas Dale was almost as large as that of his brother, the rector;
+and that in this instance she might have two strings to her bow. She
+contrived to be by the side of Douglas as they walked in the
+shrubberies, and lingered on the rustic bridge across the river; but
+she had not been with him long before she perceived that all her
+fascinations were thrown away upon him; and that, attentive and polite
+though he was, his heart was far away.
+
+It was indeed so. In that pleasant garden, where the dark evergreens
+glistened in the red radiance of the winter sunset, Douglas Dale's
+thoughts wandered away from the scene before him to the lovely Austrian
+woman--the fair widow, whose life was so strange a mystery to him; the
+woman whom he could neither respect nor trust; but whom, in spite of
+himself, he loved better than any other creature upon earth.
+
+"I had rather be by her side than here," he said to himself. "How is
+she spending this season, which should be so happy? Perhaps in utter
+loneliness; or in the midst of that artificial gaiety which is more
+wretched than solitude."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rector of Hallgrove and his guests assembled in the old-fashioned
+drawing-room of the manor-house rectory at seven o'clock on that snowy
+Christmas-night. The snowflakes fell thick and fast as night closed in
+upon the gardens and shrubberies, the swift-flowing river, and distant
+hills.
+
+The rectory drawing-room, beautified by the soft light of wax-candles,
+and the rich hues of flowers, was a pleasant picture--a picture which
+was made all the more charming by the female figures which filled its
+foreground.
+
+Chief among these, and radiant with beauty and high spirits, was Lydia
+Graham.
+
+She had contrived to draw Lionel Dale to her side. She was seated by a
+table scattered with volumes of engravings, and he was bending over her
+as she turned the leaves.
+
+Her smiles, her flatteries, her cleverly simulated interest in the
+rector's charities and pensioners, had exercised a considerable
+influence upon him--an influence which grew stronger with every hour.
+There was a sweetness and simplicity in the manners of the two Misses
+Mordaunt which pleased him; but the country-bred girls lost much by
+contrast with the brilliant Lydia.
+
+"I hope you are going to give us a real old-fashioned Christmas
+evening, Mr. Dale," said Miss Graham.
+
+"I don't quite know what you mean by an old-fashioned Christmas
+evening."
+
+"Nor am I quite clear as to whether I know what I mean myself,"
+answered the young lady, gaily. "I think, after dinner, we ought to sit
+round that noble old fire-place and tell stories, ought we not?"
+
+"Yes, I believe that is the sort of thing," replied the rector. "For my
+own part, I am ready to be Miss Graham's slave for the whole of the
+evening; and in that capacity will hold myself bound to perform her
+behests, however tyrannical she may be."
+
+When dinner was announced, Lionel Dale was obliged to leave the
+bewitching Lydia in order to offer his arm to Mrs. Mordaunt, while that
+young lady was fain to be satisfied with the escort of the disinherited
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+At the dinner-table, however, she found herself seated on the left hand
+of her host; and she took care to secure to herself the greater share
+of his attention during the progress of dinner.
+
+Gordon Graham watched his sister from his place near the foot of the
+table, and was well satisfied with her success.
+
+"If she plays her cards well she may sit at the head of this table next
+Christmas-day," he said to himself.
+
+After less than half-an-hour's interval, the gentlemen followed the
+ladies into the drawing-room, and the usual musical evening set in.
+Lydia Graham had nothing to fear from comparison with the Misses
+Mordaunt. They were tolerable performers. She was a brilliant
+proficient in music, and she had the satisfaction of observing that
+Lionel Dale perceived and appreciated her superiority. She could
+afford, therefore, to be as amiable to the girls as she was captivating
+to the gentlemen.
+
+The Misses Mordaunt were singing a duet, when a servant entered, and
+approached Lionel Dale.
+
+"There is a person in the hall who asks to see you, sir," said the man,
+"on most particular business."
+
+"What kind of person?" asked the rector.
+
+"Well, sir, she looks like an old gipsy woman."
+
+"A gipsy woman! The gipsies about here do not bear the best character."
+
+"No, sir," replied the man. "I bore that in mind, sir, with a view to
+the plate, and I told John Andrew to keep an eye upon her while I came
+to speak to you; and John Andrew is keeping an eye upon her at this
+present moment, sir."
+
+"Very good, Jackson. You can tell the gipsy woman that, if she needs
+immediate help of any kind, she can apply in the village, to Rawlins,
+but that I cannot see her to-night."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The man departed; and the Misses Mordaunt finished their duet, and rose
+from the piano, to receive the usual thanks and acknowledgments from
+their hearers.
+
+Again Miss Graham was asked to sing, and again she seated herself
+before the instrument, triumphant in the consciousness that she could
+excel the timid girls who had just left the piano.
+
+But this time Lionel Dale did not place himself beside the instrument.
+He stood near the door of the apartment, ready to receive the servant,
+if he should return with a second message from the gipsy woman.
+
+The servant did return, and this time he begged his master to step
+outside the room before he delivered his message. Lionel complied
+immediately, and followed the man into the corridor without.
+
+"I was almost afraid to speak in there, sir," said the man, in an awe-
+stricken whisper; "folks have such ears. The woman says she must see
+you, sir, and this very night. It is a matter of life and death, she
+says."
+
+"Then in that case I will see this woman. Go into the drawing-room,
+Jackson, and tell Mrs. Mordaunt, with my compliments, that I find
+myself compelled to receive one of my parishioners; and that she and
+the other ladies must be so good as to excuse my absence for half an
+hour."
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The rector went to the hall, where, cowering by the fire, he found an
+old gipsy woman.
+
+She was so muffled from head to foot in her garments of woollen stuff,
+strange and garish in colour, and fantastical in form, that it was
+almost impossible to discover what she really was like. Her shoulders
+were bent and contracted as if with extreme age. Loose tresses of gray
+hair fell low over her forehead. Her skin was dark and tawny; and
+contrasted strangely with the gray hair and the dark lustrous eyes.
+
+The gipsy woman rose as Lionel Dale entered the hall. She bent her head
+in response to his kindly salutation; but she did not curtsey as before
+a superior in rank and station.
+
+"Come with me, my good woman," said the rector, "and let me hear all
+about this very important business of yours."
+
+He led the way to the library--a low-roofed but spacious chamber, lined
+from ceiling to floor with books. A large reading-lamp, with a Parian
+shade, stood on a small writing-table near the fire, casting a subdued
+light on objects near at hand, and leaving the rest of the room in
+shadow. A pile of logs burnt cheerily on the hearth. On one side of the
+fire was the chair in which the rector usually sat; on the other, a
+large, old-fashioned, easy-chair.
+
+"Sit down, my good woman," said the rector, pointing to the latter; "I
+suppose you have some long story to tell me."
+
+He seated himself as he spoke, and leaned upon the writing-table,
+playing idly with a carved ivory paper-knife.
+
+"I have much to say to you, Lionel Dale," answered the old woman, in a
+voice which had a solemn music, that impressed the hearer in spite of
+himself; "I have much to say to you, and it will be well for you to
+mark what I say, and be warned by what I tell you."
+
+The rector looked at the speaker earnestly, and yet with a half-
+contemptuous smile upon his face. She was seated in shadow, and he
+could only see the glitter of her dark eyes as the fitful light of the
+fire flashed on them.
+
+There was something almost supernatural, it seemed to him, in the
+brilliancy of those eyes.
+
+He laughed at himself for his folly in the next instant. What was this
+woman but a vulgar impostor, who was doubtless trying to trade upon his
+fears in some manner or other?
+
+"You have come here to give some kind of warning, then?" he said, after
+a few moments of consideration.
+
+"I have--a warning which may save your life--if you hear me patiently,
+and obey when you have heard."
+
+"That is the cant of your class, my good woman; and you can scarcely
+expect me to listen to that kind of thing. If you come here to me,
+hoping to delude me by the language with which you tell the country
+people their fortunes at fairs and races, the sooner you go away the
+better. I am ready to listen to you patiently: if you need help, I am
+ready to give it you; but it is time and labour lost to practise gipsy
+jargon upon me."
+
+"I need no help from you," cried the gipsy woman, scornfully; "I tell
+you again, I come here to serve you."
+
+"In what manner can you serve me? Speak out, and speak quickly!" said
+Lionel; "I must return to my guests almost immediately."
+
+"Your guests!" cried the gipsy, with a mocking laugh; "pleasant guests
+to gather round your hearth at this holy festival-time. Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh is amongst them, I suppose?"
+
+"He is. You know his name very well, it seems."
+
+"I do."
+
+"Do you know him?"
+
+"Do _you_ know him, Lionel Dale?" demanded the old woman with sudden
+intensity.
+
+"I have good reason to know him--he is my first-cousin," answered the
+rector.
+
+"You _have_ good reason to know him--a reason that you are ignorant of.
+Shall I tell you that reason, Mr. Dale?"
+
+"I am ready to hear what you have to say; but I must warn you that I
+shall be but little affected by it."
+
+"Beware how you regard my solemn warning as the raving of a lunatic. It
+is your life that is at stake, Lionel Dale--your life! The reason you
+ought to know Reginald Eversleigh is, that in him you have a deadly
+enemy."
+
+"An enemy! My cousin Reginald, a man whom I never injured by deed or
+word in my life! Has _he_ ever tried to injure me?"
+
+"He has."
+
+"How?"
+
+"He schemed and plotted against you and others before your uncle Sir
+Oswald's death. His dearest hope was to bring to pass the destruction
+of the will which left you five thousand a year."
+
+"Indeed! You seem familiar with my family history," exclaimed Lionel.
+
+"I know the secrets of your family as well as I know those of my own."
+
+"Then you pretend to be a sorceress?"
+
+"I pretend to be nothing but your friend. Sir Reginald Eversleigh has
+been your foe ever since the day which disinherited him and made you
+rich. Your death would make him master of the wealth which you now
+enjoy; your death would give him fortune, position in the world--all
+which he most covets. Can you doubt, therefore, that he wishes your
+death?"
+
+"I cannot believe it!" cried Lionel Dale; "it is too horrible. What!
+he, my first cousin! he can profess for me the warmest friendship, and
+yet can wish to profit by my death!"
+
+"He can do worse than that," said the gipsy woman, in an impressive
+voice; "he can try to compass your death!"
+
+"No! no! no!" cried the rector. "It is not possible!"
+
+"It is true. Sir Reginald Eversleigh is a coward; but he is helped by
+one who knows no human weakness--whose cruel heart was never softened
+by one touch of pity--whose iron hand never falters. Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh is little more than the tool of that man, and between those
+two there is ruin for you."
+
+"Your words have the accent of truth," said the rector, after a long
+pause; "and yet their meaning is so terrible that I can scarcely bring
+myself to believe in them. How is it that you, a stranger, are so
+familiar with the private details of my life?"
+
+"Do not ask me that, Mr. Dale," replied the gipsy woman, sternly; "when
+a stranger comes to you to warn you of a great danger, accept the
+warning, and let your nameless friend depart unquestioned. I have told
+you that an unseen danger menaces you. I know not yet the exact form
+which that danger may take. To-morrow I expect to know more."
+
+"I can pledge myself to nothing."
+
+"As you will," answered the gipsy, proudly. "I have done my duty. The
+rest is with Providence. If in your blind obstinacy you disregard my
+warning, I cannot help it. Will you, for your own sake, not for mine,
+let me see you to-morrow; or will you promise to see anyone who shall
+ask to see you, in the name of the gipsy woman who was here to-night?
+Promise me this, I entreat you. I have nothing to ask of you, nothing
+to gain by my prayer; but I do entreat you most earnestly to do this
+thing. I am working in the dark to a certain extent. I know something,
+but not all, and I may have learned much more by to-morrow. I may bring
+or send you information then, which will convince you I am speaking the
+truth. Stay, will you promise me this, for my sake, for the sake of
+justice? You will, Mr. Dale, I know you will; you are a just, a good
+man. You suspect me of practising upon you a vulgar imposition. To-
+morrow I may have the power of convincing you that I have not done so.
+You will give me the opportunity, Mr. Dale?"
+
+The pleading, earnest voice, the mournful, dark eyes, stirred Lionel
+Dale's heart strangely. An impulse moved him towards trust in this
+woman, this outcast,--curiosity even impelled him to ask her, in such
+terms as would ensure her compliance, for a full explanation of her
+mysterious conduct. But he checked the impulse, he silenced the
+promptings of curiosity, sacrificing them to his ever-present sense of
+his professional and personal dignity. While the momentary struggle
+lasted, the gipsy woman closely scanned his face. At length he said
+coldly:
+
+"I will do as you ask. I place no reliance on your statements, but you
+are right in asking for the means of substantiating them. I will see
+you, or any one you may send to-morrow."
+
+"You will be at home?" she asked, anxiously. "The hunt?"
+
+"The hunt will hardly take place; the weather is too much against us,"
+replied Lionel Dale. "Except there should be a very decided change,
+there will be no hunt, and I shall be at home." Having said this,
+Lionel Dale rose, with a decided air of dismissal. The gipsy rose too,
+and stood unshrinkingly before him, as she said:
+
+"And now I will leave you. Good night. You think me a mad woman, or an
+impostor. This is the second occasion on which you have misjudged me,
+Mr. Dale."
+
+As the rector met the earnest gaze of her brilliant eyes, a strange
+feeling took possession of his mind. It seemed to him, as if he had
+before encountered that earnest and profound gaze.
+
+"I must have seen such a face in a dream," he thought to himself;
+"where else but in a dream?"
+
+The fancy had a powerful influence over him, and occupied his mind as
+he preceded the gipsy woman to the hall, and opened the door for her to
+pass out.
+
+The snow had ceased to fall; the bright wintry moon rode high in the
+heaven, amidst black, hurrying clouds. That cold light shone on the
+white range of hills sleeping beneath a shroud of untrodden snow.
+
+On the threshold of the door the gipsy woman turned and addressed
+Lionel Dale--
+
+"There will be no hunting while this weather lasts."
+
+"None."
+
+"Then your grand meeting of to-morrow will be put off?"
+
+"Yes, unless the weather changes in the night."
+
+"Once more, good night, Mr. Dale."
+
+"Good night."
+
+The rector stood at the door, watching the gipsy woman as she walked
+along the snow-laden pathway. The dark figure moving slowly and
+silently across the broad white expanse of hidden lawn and flower-beds
+looked almost ghost-like to the eyes of the watcher.
+
+"What does it all mean?" he asked himself, as he watched that receding
+figure. "Is this woman a common impostor, who hopes to enrich herself,
+or her tribe, by playing upon my fears? She asked nothing of me to-
+night; and yet that may be but a trick of her trade, and she may intend
+to extort all the more from me in the future. What should she be but a
+cheat and a trickster, like the rest of her race?"
+
+The question was not easy to settle.
+
+He returned to the drawing-room. His mind had been much disturbed by
+this extraordinary interview, and he was in no humour for empty small-
+talk; nor was he disposed to meet Reginald Eversleigh, against whom he
+had received so singular, so apparently groundless, a warning.
+
+He tried to shake off the feeling which he was ashamed to acknowledge
+to himself.
+
+He re-entered the drawing-room, and he saw Miss Graham's face light up
+with sudden animation as she saw him. He was not skilled in the
+knowledge of a woman's heart, and he was flattered by that bright look
+of welcome. He was already half-enmeshed in the web which she had
+spread for him, and that welcoming smile did much towards his complete
+subjugation.
+
+He went to a seat near the fascinating Lydia. Between them there was a
+chess-table. Lydia laid her jewelled hand lightly on one of the pieces.
+
+"Would you think it very wicked to play a game of chess on a Christmas
+evening, Mr. Dale?" she asked.
+
+"Indeed, no, Miss Graham. I am one of those who can see no sinfulness
+in any innocent enjoyment."
+
+"Shall we play, then?" asked Lydia, arranging the pieces.
+
+"If you please."
+
+They were both good players, and the game lasted long. But ever and
+anon, while waiting for Lydia to move, Lionel glanced towards the spot
+where Sir Reginald Eversleigh stood, engaged in conversation with
+Gordon Graham and Douglas Dale.
+
+If the rector himself had known no blot on the character of Reginald
+Eversleigh, the gipsy's words would not have had a feather's weight
+with him; but Lionel did know that his cousin's youth had been wild and
+extravagant, and that he, the beloved, adopted son, the long-
+acknowledged heir of Raynham, had been disinherited by Sir Oswald--one
+of the best and most high-principled of men.
+
+Knowing this, it was scarcely strange if Lionel Dale was in some degree
+influenced by the gipsy's warning. He scanned the face of his cousin
+with a searching gaze.
+
+It was a handsome face--almost a perfect face; but was it the face of a
+man who might be trusted by his fellow-men?
+
+A careworn face--handsome though it was. There was a nervous
+restlessness about the thin lips, a feverish light in the dark blue
+eyes.
+
+More than once during the prolonged encounter at chess, Reginald
+Eversleigh had drawn aside one of the window-curtains, to look out upon
+the night.
+
+Mr. Mordaunt, a devoted lover of all field-sports, was also restless
+and uneasy about the weather, peeping out every now and then, and
+announcing, in a tone of disappointment, the continuance of the frost.
+
+In Mr. Mordaunt this was perfectly natural; but Lionel Dale knew that
+his cousin was not a man who cared for hunting. Why, then, was he so
+anxious about the meet which was to have taken place to-morrow?
+
+His anxiety evidently was about the meet; for after looking out of the
+window for the third time, he exclaimed, with an accent of triumph--
+
+"I congratulate you, gentlemen; you may have your run to-morrow. It no
+longer freezes, and there is a drizzling rain falling."
+
+Mr. Mordaunt ran out of the drawing-room, and returned in about five
+minutes with a radiant face.
+
+"I have been to look at the weathercock in the stable-yard," he said;
+"Sir Reginald Eversleigh is quite right. The wind has shifted to the
+sou'-west; it is raining fast, and we may have our sport to-morrow."
+
+Lionel Dale's eyes were fixed on the face of his cousin as the country
+squire made this announcement. To his surprise, he saw that face blanch
+to a death-like whiteness.
+
+"To-morrow!" murmured Sir Reginald, with a sigh.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+                      "ANSWER ME, IF THIS BE DONE?"
+
+All through the night the drizzling rain fell fast, and on the morning
+of the 26th, when the gentlemen at the manor-house rectory went to
+their windows to look out upon the weather, they were gratified by
+finding that southerly wind and cloudy sky so dear to the heart of a
+huntsman.
+
+At half-past eight o'clock the whole party assembled in the dining-
+room, where breakfast was prepared.
+
+Many gentlemen living in the neighbourhood had been invited to
+breakfast at the rectory; and the great quadrangle of the stables was
+crowded by grooms and horses, gigs and phaetons, while the clamour of
+many voices rang out upon the still air.
+
+Every one seemed to be thoroughly happy--except Reginald Eversleigh. He
+was amongst the noisiest of the talkers, the loudest of the laughers;
+but the rector, who watched him closely, perceived that his face was
+pale, his eyes heavy as the eyes of one who had passed a sleepless
+night, and that his laughter was loud without mirth, his talk
+boisterous, without real cheerfulness of spirit.
+
+"There is mischief of some kind in that man's heart," Lionel said to
+himself. "Can there be any truth in the gipsy's warning after all?"
+
+But in the next moment he was ready to fancy himself the weak dupe of
+his own imagination.
+
+"I dare say my cousin's manner is but what it always is," he thought;
+"the weary manner of a man who has wasted his youth, and sacrificed all
+the brilliant chances of his life, and who, even in the hour of
+pleasure and excitement, is oppressed by a melancholy which he strives
+in vain to shake off."
+
+The gathering at the breakfast-table was a brilliant one.
+
+Lydia Graham was a superb horsewoman; and in no costume did she look
+more attractive than in her exquisitely fitting habit of dark blue
+cloth. The early hour of the meet justified her breakfasting in riding-
+costume; and gladly availing herself of this excuse, she made her
+appearance in her habit, carrying her pretty little riding-hat and
+dainty whip in her hand.
+
+Her cheeks were flushed with a rich bloom--the warm flush of excitement
+and the consciousness of success. Lionel's attention on the previous
+evening had seemed to her unmistakeable; and again this morning she saw
+admiration, if not a warmer feeling, in his gaze.
+
+"And so you really mean to follow the hounds, Miss Graham?" said Mrs.
+Mordaunt, with something like a shudder.
+
+She had a great horror of fast young ladies, and a lurking aversion to
+Miss Graham, whose dashing manner and more brilliant charms quite
+eclipsed the quiet graces of the lady's two daughters. Mrs. Mordaunt
+was by no means a match-making mother; but she would have been far from
+sorry to see Lionel Dale devoted to one of her girls.
+
+"Do I mean to follow the hounds?" cried Lydia. "Certainly I do, Mrs.
+Mordaunt. Do not the Misses Mordaunt ride?"
+
+"Never to hounds," answered the matron. "They ride with, their father
+constantly, and when they are in London they ride in the park; but Mr.
+Mordaunt would not allow his daughters to appear in the hunting-field."
+
+Lydia's face flushed crimson with anger; but her anger changed to
+delight when Lionel Dale came to the rescue.
+
+"It is only such accomplished horsewomen as Miss Graham who can ride to
+hounds with safety," he said. "Your daughters ride very well, Mrs.
+Mordaunt; but they are not Diana Vernons."
+
+"I never particularly admired the character of Diana Vernon," Mrs.
+Mordaunt answered, coldly.
+
+Lydia Graham was by no means displeased by the lady's discourtesy. She
+accepted it as a tribute to her success. The mother could not bear to
+see so rich a prize as the rector of Hallgrove won by any other than
+her own daughter.
+
+Douglas Dale was full of his brother's new horse, "Niagara," which had
+been paraded before the windows. The gentlemen of the party had all
+examined the animal, and pronounced him a beauty.
+
+"Did you try him last week, Lionel, as I requested you to do?" asked
+Douglas, when the merits of the horse had been duly discussed.
+
+"I did; and I found him as fine a temper as any horse I ever rode. I
+rode him twice--he is a magnificent animal."
+
+"And safe, eh, Lio?" asked Douglas, anxiously. "Spavin assured me the
+horse was to be relied on, and Spavin is a very respectable fellow; but
+it's rather a critical matter to choose a hunter for a brother, and I
+shall be glad when to-day's work is over."
+
+"Have no fear, Douglas," answered the rector. "I am generally
+considered a bold rider, but I would not mount a horse I couldn't
+thoroughly depend upon; for I am of opinion that a man has no right to
+tempt Providence."
+
+As he said this, he happened by chance to look towards Reginald
+Eversleigh. The eyes of the cousins met; and Lionel saw that those of
+the baronet had a restless, uneasy look, which was utterly unlike their
+usual expression.
+
+"There is some meaning in that old woman's dark hints of wrong and
+treachery," he thought; "there must be. That was no common look which I
+saw just now in my cousin's eyes."
+
+The horses were brought round to the principal door; a barouche had
+been ordered for Mrs. Mordaunt and the two young ladies, who had no
+objection to exhibit their prettiest winter bonnets at the general
+meeting-place.
+
+The snow had melted, except here and there, where it still lay in great
+patches; and on the distant hills, which still wore their pure white
+shroud.
+
+The roads and lanes were fetlock-deep in mud, and the horses went
+splashing through pools of water, which spurted up into the faces of
+the riders.
+
+There was only one lady besides Lydia Graham who intended to accompany
+the huntsmen, and this lady was the dashing young wife of a cavalry
+officer, who was spending a month's leave of absence with his relatives
+at Hallgrove.
+
+The hunting-party rode out of the rectory gates in twos and threes. All
+had passed out into the high road before the rector himself, who was
+mounted on his new hunter.
+
+To his extreme surprise he found a difficulty in managing the animal.
+He reared, and jibbed, and shied from side to side upon the broad
+carriage-drive, splashing the melted snow and wet gravel upon the
+rector's dark hunting-coat.
+
+"So ho, 'Niagara,'" said Lionel, patting the animal's arched neck;
+"gently, boy, gently."
+
+His voice, and the caressing touch of his hand seemed to have some
+little effect, for the horse consented to trot quietly into the road,
+after the rest of the party, and Lionel quickly overtook his friends.
+He rode shoulder by shoulder with Squire Mordaunt, an acknowledged
+judge of horseflesh, who watched the rector's hunter with a curious
+gaze for some minutes.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Dale," he said, "I don't believe that horse
+of yours is a good-tempered animal."
+
+"You do not?"
+
+"No, there's a dangerous look in his eye that I don't at all like. See
+how he puts his ears back every now and then; and his nostrils have an
+ugly nervous quiver. I wish you'd let your man bring you another horse,
+Dale. We're likely to be crossing some stiffish timber to-day; and,
+upon my word, I'm rather suspicious of that brute you're riding."
+
+"My dear squire, I have tested the horse to the uttermost," answered
+Lionel. "I can positively assure you there is not the slightest ground
+for apprehension. The animal is a present from my brother, and Douglas
+would be annoyed if I rode any other horse."
+
+"He would be more annoyed if you came to any harm by a horse of his
+choosing," answered the squire. "However I'll say no more. If you know
+the animal, that's enough. I know you to be both a good rider and a
+good judge of a horse."
+
+"Thank you heartily for your advice, notwithstanding, squire," replied
+Lionel, cheerily; "and now I think I'll ride on and join the ladies."
+
+He broke into a canter, and presently was riding by the side of Miss
+Graham, who did not fail to praise the beauty of "Niagara" in a manner
+calculated to win the heart of Niagara's rider.
+
+In the exhilarating excitement of the start, Lionel Dale had forgotten
+alike the gipsy's warning and those vague doubts of his cousin Reginald
+which had been engendered by that warning. He was entirely absorbed by
+the pleasure of the hour, happy to see his friends gathered around him,
+and excited by the prospect of a day's sport.
+
+The meeting-place was crowded with horsemen and carriages, country
+squires and their sons, gentlemen-farmers on sleek hunters, and humbler
+tenant-farmers on their stiff cobs, butchers and innkeepers, all eager
+for the chase. All was life, gaiety excitement, noise; the hounds,
+giving forth occasional howls and snappish yelpings, expressive of an
+impatience that was almost beyond endurance; the huntsman cracking his
+whip, and reproving his charges in language more forcible than polite;
+the spirited horses pawing the ground; the gentlemen exchanging the
+compliments of the season with the ladies who had come up to see the
+hounds throw off.
+
+At last the important moment arrived, the horn sounded, the hounds
+broke away with a rush, and the business of the day had begun.
+
+Again the rector's horse was seized with sudden obstinacy, and again
+the rector found it as much as he could do to manage him. An inferior
+horseman would have been thrown in that sharp and short struggle
+between horse and rider; but Lionel's firm hand triumphed over the
+animal's temper for the time at least; and presently he was hurrying
+onward at a stretching gallop, which speedily carried him beyond the
+ruck of riders.
+
+As he skimmed like a bird over the low flat meadows, Lionel began to
+think that the horse was an acquisition, in spite of the sudden freaks
+of temper which had made him so difficult to manage at starting.
+
+A horseman who had not joined the hunt, who had dexterously kept the
+others in sight, sheltering himself from observation under the fringe
+of the wood which crowned a small hill in the neighbourhood of the
+meet, was watching all the evolutions of Lionel Dale's horse closely
+through a small field-glass, and soon, perceived that the animal was
+beyond the rider's skill to manage. The stretching gallop which had
+reassured Mr. Dale soon carried the rector beyond the watcher's ken,
+and then, as the hunt was out of sight too, he turned his horse from
+the shelter he had so carefully selected, and rode straight across
+country in an opposite direction.
+
+In little more than half an hour after the horseman who had watched
+Lionel Dale so closely left the post of observation, a short man,
+mounted on a stout pony, which had evidently been urged along at
+unusual speed, came along the road, which wound around the hill already
+mentioned. This individual wore a heavy, country-made coat, and leather
+leggings, and had a handkerchief tied over his hat. This very
+unbecoming appendage was stained with blood on the side which covered
+the right cheek and the wearer was plentifully daubed and bespattered
+with mud, his sturdy little steed being in a similar condition. As he
+urged the pony on, his sharp, crafty eyes kept up an incessant
+scrutiny, in which his beak-like nose seemed to take an active part.
+But there was nothing to reward the curiosity, amounting to anxiety,
+with which the short man surveyed the wintry scene around. All was
+silent and empty. If the horseman had designed to see and speak with
+any member of the hunting-party, he had come too late. He recognized
+the fact very soon, and very discontentedly. Without being so great a
+genius, as he believed and represented himself, Mr. Andrew Larkspur was
+really a very clever and a very successful detective, and he had seldom
+been foiled in a better-laid plan than that which had induced him to
+follow Lionel Dale to the meet on this occasion. But he had not
+calculated on precisely the exact kind of accident which had befallen
+him, and when he found himself thrown violently from his pony, in the
+middle of a road at once hard, sloppy, and newly-repaired with very
+sharp stones, he was both hurt and angry. It did not take him a great
+deal of time to get the pony on its legs, and shake himself to rights
+again; but the delay, brief as it was, was fatal to his hopes of seeing
+Lionel Dale. The meet had taken place, the hunt was in full progress,
+far away, and Mr. Andrew Larkspur had nothing for it but to sit
+forlornly for awhile upon the muddy pony, indulging in meditations of
+no pleasant character, and then ride disconsolately back to Frimley.
+
+In the meantime, Nemesis, who had perversely pleased herself by
+thwarting the designs of Mr. Larkspur, had hurried those of Victor
+Carrington towards fulfilment with incredible speed. He had ridden at a
+speed, and for some time in a direction which would, he calculated,
+bring him within sight of the hunt, and had just crossed a bridge which
+traversed a narrow but deep and rapid river, about three miles distant
+from the place where he Andrew Larkspur had taken sad counsel with
+himself, when he heard the sound of a horse's approach, at a
+thundering, apparently wholly ungoverned pace. A wild gleam of
+triumphant expectation, of deadly murderous hope, lit up his pale
+features, as he turned his horse, rendered restive by the noise of the
+distant galloping, into a field, close by the road, dismounted, and
+tied him firmly to a tree. The hedge, though bare of leaves, was thick
+and high, and in the angle which it formed with the tree, the animal
+was completely hidden.
+
+In a moment after Victor Carrington had done this, and while he
+crouched down and looked through the hedge, Lionel Dale appeared in
+sight, borne madly along by his unmanageable horse, as he dashed
+heedlessly down the road, his rider holding the bridle indeed, but
+breathless, powerless, his head uncovered, and one of his stirrup-
+leathers broken. Victor Carrington's heart throbbed violently, and a
+film came over his eyes. Only for a moment, however; in the next his
+sight cleared, and he saw the furious animal, frightened by a sudden
+plunge made by the horse tied to the tree, swerve suddenly from the
+road, and dash at the swollen, tumbling river. The horse plunged in a
+little below the bridge. The rider was thrown out of the saddle head
+foremost. His head struck with a dull thud against the rugged trunk of
+an ash which hung over the water, and he sank below the brown, turbid
+stream. Then Victor Carrington emerged from his hiding-place, and
+rushed to the brink of the water. No sign of the rector was to be seen;
+and midway across, the horse, snorting and terrified, was struggling
+towards the opposite bank. In a moment Carrington, drawing something
+from his breast as he went, had run across the bridge, and reached the
+spot where the animal was now attempting to scramble up the steep bank.
+As Carrington came up, he had got his fore-feet within a couple of feet
+of the top, and was just making good his footing below; but the
+surgeon, standing close upon the brink, a little to the right of the
+struggling brute, stooped down and shot him through the forehead. The
+huge carcase fell crashing heavily down, and was sucked under, and
+whirled away by the stream. Victor Carrington placed the pistol once
+more in his breast, and for some time stood quite motionless gazing oh
+the river. Then he turned away, saying,--
+
+"They'll hardly look for him below the bridge--I should say the fox ran
+west;" and he letting loose the horse he had ridden, walked along the
+road until he reached the turn at which Lionel Dale had come in sight.
+There he found the unfortunate rector's hat, as he had hoped he might
+find it, and having carried it back, he placed it on the brink of the
+river, and then once more mounted him, and rode, not at any remarkable
+speed, in the opposite direction to that in which Hallgrove lay.
+
+His reflections were of a satisfactory kind. He had succeeded, and he
+cared for nothing but success. When he thought of Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh, a contemptuous smile crossed his pale lips. "To work for
+such a creature as that," he said to himself, "would indeed be
+degrading; but he is only an accident in the case--I work for myself."
+
+Victor Carrington had discharged his score at the inn that morning, and
+sent his valise to London by coach. When the night fell, he took the
+saddle off his horse, steeped it in the river, replaced it, quietly
+turned the animal loose, and abandoning him to his fate, made his way
+to a solitary public-house some miles from Hallgrove, where he had
+given a conditional, uncertain sort of _rendezvous_ to Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The night had closed in upon the returning huntsmen as they rode
+homewards. Not a star glimmered in the profound darkness of the sky.
+The moon had not yet risen, and all was chill and dreary in the early
+winter night.
+
+Miss Graham, her brother Gordon, and Sir Reginald Eversleigh rode
+abreast as they approached the manor-house. Lydia had been struck by
+the silence of Sir Reginald, but she attributed that silence to
+fatigue. Her brother, too, was silent; nor did Lydia herself care to
+talk. She was thinking of her triumphs of the previous evening, and of
+that morning. She was thinking of the tender pressure with which the
+rector had clasped her hand as he bade her good-night; the soft
+expression of his eyes as they dwelt on her face, with a long, earnest
+gaze. She was thinking of his tender care of her when she mounted her
+horse, the gentle touch of his hand as he placed the reins in hers.
+Could she doubt that she was beloved?
+
+She did not doubt. A thrill of delight ran through her veins as she
+thought of the sweet certainty; but it was not the pure delight of a
+simple-hearted girl who loves and finds herself beloved. It was the
+triumph of a hard and worldly woman, who has devoted the bright years
+of her girlhood to ambitious dreams; and who, at last, has reason to
+believe that they are about to be realized.
+
+"Five thousand a year," she thought; "it is little, after all, compared
+to the fortune that would have been mine had I been lucky enough to
+captivate Sir Oswald Eversleigh. It is little compared to the wealth
+enjoyed by that low-born and nameless creature, Sir Oswald's widow. But
+it is much for one who has drained poverty's bitter cup to the very
+dregs as I have. Yes, to the dregs; for though I have never known the
+want of life's common necessaries, I have known humiliations which are
+at least as hard to bear."
+
+The many windows of the manor-house were all a-blaze with light as the
+hunting-party entered the gates. Fires burned brightly in all the
+rooms, and the interior of that comfortable house formed a very
+pleasant contrast to the cheerless darkness of the night, the muddy
+roads, and damp atmosphere.
+
+The butler stood in the hall ready to welcome the returning guests with
+stately ceremony; while the under-servants bustled about, attending to
+the wants of the mud-bespattered huntsmen.
+
+"Mr. Dale is at home, I suppose?" Douglas said, as he warmed his hands
+before the great wood fire.
+
+"At home, sir!" replied the butler; "hasn't he come home with you,
+sir?"
+
+"No; we never saw him after the meet. I imagine he must have been
+called away on parish business."
+
+"I don't know, sir," answered the butler; "my master has certainly not
+been home since the morning."
+
+A feeling of vague alarm took possession of almost everyone present.
+
+"It is very strange," exclaimed Squire Mordaunt. "Did no one come here
+to inquire after your master this morning?"
+
+"No one, sir," replied the butler.
+
+"Send to the stables to see if my brother's horse has been brought
+home," cried Douglas, with alarm very evident in his face and manner.
+"Or, stay, I will go myself."
+
+He ran out of the hall, and in a few moments returned.
+
+"The horse has not been brought back," he cried; "there must be
+something wrong."
+
+"Stop," cried the squire; "pray, my dear Mr. Douglas Dale, do not let
+us give way to unnecessary alarm. There may be no cause whatever for
+fear or agitation. If Mr. Dale was summoned away from the hunt to
+attend the bed of a dying parishioner, he would be the last man to
+think of sending his horse home, or to count the hours which he devoted
+to his duty."
+
+"But he would surely send a messenger here to prevent the alarm which
+his absence would be likely to cause amongst us all," replied Douglas;
+"do not let us deceive ourselves, Mr. Mordaunt. There is something
+wrong--an accident of some kind has happened to my brother. Andrews,
+order fresh horses to be saddled immediately. If you will ride one way,
+squire, I will take another road, first stopping in the village to make
+all possible inquires there. Reginald, you will help us, will you not?"
+
+"With all my heart," answered Reginald, with energy, but in a voice
+which was thick and husky.
+
+Douglas Dale looked at his cousin, startled, even in the midst of his
+excitement, by the strange tone of Reginald's voice.
+
+"Great heavens! how ghastly pale you look, Reginald!" he cried; "you
+apprehend some great misfortune--some dreadful accident?"
+
+"I scarcely know," gasped the baronet; "but I own that I feel
+considerable alarm--the--the river--the current was so strong after the
+thaw--the stream so swollen by melted snow. If--if Lionel's horse
+should have tried to swim the river--and failed--"
+
+"And we are lingering here!" cried Douglas, passionately; "lingering
+here and talking, instead of acting! Are those horses ready there?" he
+shouted, rushing out to the portico.
+
+His voice was heard in the darkness without, urging on the grooms as
+they led out fresh horses from the quadrangle.
+
+"Gordon!" cried Lydia Graham, "you will go out with the others. You
+will do your uttermost in the search for Mr. Lionel Dale!"
+
+She said this in a loud, ringing voice, with the imperious tone of a
+woman accustomed to command. She was leaning against one angle of the
+great chimney-piece, pale as ashes, breathless, but not fainting. To
+her, the idea that any calamity had befallen Lionel Dale was very
+dreadful--almost as dreadful as it could be to the brother who so truly
+loved him; for her own interest was involved in this man's life, and
+with her that was ever paramount.
+
+She was well-nigh fainting; but she was too much a woman of the world
+not to know that if she had given way to her emotion at that moment,
+she would have given rise to disgust and annoyance, rather than
+interest, in the minds of the gentlemen present. She knew this, and she
+wished to please every one; for in pleasing the many lies the secret of
+a woman's success with the few.
+
+Even in that moment of confusion and excitement, the scheming woman
+determined to stand well in the eyes of Douglas Dale.
+
+As he appeared on the threshold of the great hall-door, she went up to
+him very quietly, with her head uncovered, and her pale, clearly-cut
+face revealed by the light of the lamp above her. She laid her hand
+gently on the young man's arm.
+
+"Mr. Dale." she said, "command my brother Gordon; he will be proud to
+obey you. I will go out myself to aid in the search, if you will let me
+do so."
+
+Douglas Dale clasped her hand in both his with grateful emotion.
+
+"You are a noble girl," he cried; "but you cannot help me in this. Your
+brother Gordon may, perhaps, and I will call upon his friendship
+without reserve. And now leave us, Miss Graham; this is no fitting
+scene for a lady. Come, gentlemen!" he exclaimed, "the horses are
+ready. I go by the village, and thence to the river; you will each take
+different roads, and will all meet me on the river-bank, at the spot
+where we crossed to-day."
+
+In less than five minutes all had mounted, and the trampling of hoofs
+announced their departure. Reginald was amongst them, hardly conscious
+of the scene or his companions.
+
+Sight, hearing, perception of himself, and of the world around him, all
+seemed annihilated. He rode on through dense black shadows, dark clouds
+which hemmed him in on every side, as if a gigantic pall had fallen
+from heaven to cover him.
+
+How he became separated from his companions he never knew; but when his
+senses awoke from that dreadful stupor, he found himself alone, on a
+common, and in the far distance he saw the glimmer of lights--very
+feeble and wan beneath the starless sky.
+
+It seemed as if the horse knew his desolate ground, and was going
+straight towards these lights. The animal belonged to the rector, and
+was, no doubt, familiar with the country.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh had just sufficient consciousness of surrounding
+circumstances to remember this. He made no attempt to guide the horse.
+What did it matter whither he went? He had forgotten his promise to
+meet the other men on the river-brink; he had forgotten everything,
+except that the work of a demon had progressed in silence, and that its
+fatal issue was about to burst like a thunder-clap upon him.
+
+"Victor Carrington has told me that this fortune shall be mine; he has
+failed once, but will not fail always," he said to himself.
+
+The disappearance of Lionel Dale had struck like a thunderbolt on the
+baronet; but it was a thunderbolt whose falling he had anticipated with
+shuddering horror during every day and every hour since his arrival at
+Hallgrove.
+
+The lights grew more distinct--feeble lamps in a village street,
+glimmering candles in cottage windows scattered here and there. The
+horse reached the edge of the common and turned into a high road. Five
+minutes afterwards Reginald Eversleigh found himself at the beginning
+of a little country town.
+
+Lights were burning cheerily in the windows of an inn. The door was
+open, and from within there came the sound of voices that rang out
+merrily on the night air.
+
+"Great heaven!" exclaimed Reginald, "how happy these peasants are--
+these brutish creatures who have no care beyond their daily bread!"
+
+He envied them; and at that moment would have exchanged places with the
+humblest field-labourer carousing in the rustic tap-room. But it was
+only now and then the anguish of a guilty conscience took this shape.
+He was a man who loved the pleasures and luxuries of this world better
+than he loved peace of mind; better than he loved his own soul.
+
+He drew rein before the inn-door, and called to the people within. A
+man came out, and took the bridle as he dismounted.
+
+"What is the name of this place?" he asked.
+
+"Frimley, sir--Frimley Common it's called by rights. But folks call it
+Frimley for short."
+
+"How far am I from the river-bank at the bottom of Thorpe Hill?"
+
+"A good six miles, sir."
+
+"Take my horse and rub him down. Give him a pail of gruel and a quart
+of oats. I shall want to start again in less than an hour."
+
+"Sharp work, sir," answered the ostler. "Your horse seems to have done
+plenty already."
+
+"That is my business," said Sir Reginald, haughtily.
+
+He went into the inn.
+
+"Is there a room in which I can dry my coat?" he asked at the bar.
+
+He had only lately become aware of a drizzling rain which had been
+falling, and had soaked through his hunting-coat.
+
+"Were you with the Horsely hounds to-day, sir?" asked the landlord.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Good sport, sir?"
+
+"No," answered Sir Reginald, curtly.
+
+"Show the way to the parlour, Jane," said the landlord to a
+chambermaid, or barmaid, or girl-of-all-work, who emerged from the tap-
+room with a tray of earthenware mugs. "There's one gentleman there,
+sir; but perhaps you won't object to that, Christmas being such a
+particularly busy time," added the landlord, addressing Reginald.
+"You'll find a good fire."
+
+"Send me some brandy," returned Sir Reginald, without deigning to make
+any further reply to the landlord's apologetic speech.
+
+He followed the girl, who led the way to a door at the end of a
+passage, which she opened, and ushered Sir Reginald into a light and
+comfortable room.
+
+Before a large, old-fashioned fire-place sat a man, with his face
+hidden by the newspaper which he was reading.
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh did not condescend to look at this stranger. He
+walked straight to the hearth; took off his dripping coat, and hung it
+on a chair by the side of the roaring wood fire. Then he flung himself
+into another chair, drew it close to the fender, and sat staring at the
+fire, with a gloomy face, and eyes which seemed to look far away into
+some dark and terrible region beyond those burning logs.
+
+He sat in this attitude for some time, motionless as a statue, utterly
+unconscious that his companion was closely watching him from behind the
+sheltering newspaper. The inn servant brought a tray, bearing a small
+decanter of brandy and a glass. But the baronet did not heed her
+entrance, nor did he touch the refreshment for which he had asked.
+
+Not once did he stir till the sudden crackling of his companion's
+newspaper startled him, and he lifted his head with an impatient
+gesture and an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"You are nervous to-night, Sir Reginald Eversleigh," said the man,
+whose voice was still hidden by the newspaper.
+
+The sound of the voice in which those common-place words were spoken
+was, at this moment, of all sounds the most hateful to Reginald
+Eversleigh.
+
+"You here!" he exclaimed. "But I ought to have known that."
+
+The newspaper was lowered for the first time; and Reginald Eversleigh
+found himself face to face with Victor Carrington.
+
+"You ought, indeed, considering I told you you should find me, or hear
+from me here, at the 'Wheatsheaf,' in case you wished to do so, or I
+wished you should do so either. And I presume you have come by
+accident, not intentionally. I had no idea of seeing you, especially at
+an hour when I should have thought you would have been enjoying the
+hospitality of your kinsman, the rector of Hallgrove."
+
+"Victor Carrington!" cried Reginald, "are you the fiend himself in
+human shape? Surely no other creature could delight in crime."
+
+"I do not delight in crime, Reginald Eversleigh; and it is only a man
+with your narrow intellect who could give utterance to such an
+absurdity. Crime is only another name for danger. The criminal stakes
+his life. I value my life too highly to hazard it lightly. But if I can
+mould accident to my profit, I should be a fool indeed were I to shrink
+from doing so. There is one thing I delight in, my dear Reginald, and
+that is success! And now tell me why you are here to-night?"
+
+"I cannot tell you that," answered the baronet. "I came hither,
+unconscious where I was coming. There seems a strange fatality in this.
+I let my horse choose his own road, and he brought me here to this
+house--to you, my evil genius."
+
+"Pray, Sir Reginald, be good enough to drop that high tragedy tone,"
+said Victor, with supreme coolness. "It is all very well to be
+addressed by you as a fiend and an evil genius once in a way; but upon
+frequent repetition, that sort of thing becomes tiresome. You have not
+told me why you are wandering about the country instead of eating your
+dinner in a Christian-like manner at the rectory?"
+
+"Do you not know the reason, Carrington?" asked the baronet, gazing
+fixedly at his companion.
+
+"How should I know anything about it?"
+
+"Because to-day's work has been your doing," answered Reginald,
+passionately; "because you are mixed up in the dark business of this
+day, as you were mixed up in that still darker treachery at Raynham
+Castle. I know now why you insisted upon my choosing the horse called
+'Niagara' for my cousin Lionel; I know now why you were so interested
+in the appearance of that other horse, which had already caused the
+death of more than one rider; I know why you are here, and why Lionel
+Dale has disappeared in the course of the day."
+
+"He has disappeared!" exclaimed Victor Carrington; "he is not dead?"
+
+"I know nothing but that he has disappeared. We missed him in the midst
+of the hunt. We returned to the rectory in the evening, expecting to
+find him there."
+
+"Did _you_ expect that, Eversleigh?"
+
+"Others did, at any rate."
+
+"And did you not find him ?"
+
+"No. We left the house, after a brief delay, to seek for him; I among
+the others. We were to ride by different roads; to make inquiries of
+every kind; to obtain information from every source. My brain was
+dazed. I let my horse take his own road."
+
+"Fool! coward!" exclaimed Victor Harrington, with mingled scorn and
+anger. "And you have abandoned your work; you have come here to waste
+your time, when you should seem most active in the search--most eager
+to find the missing man. Reginald Eversleigh, from first to last you
+have trifled with me. You are a villain; but you are a hypocrite. You
+would have the reward of guilt, and yet wear the guise of innocence,
+even before me; as if it were possible to deceive one who has read you
+through and through. I am tired of this trifling; I am weary of this
+pretended innocence; and to-night I ask you, for the last time, to
+choose the path which you mean to tread; and, once chosen, to tread it
+with a firm step, prepared to meet danger--to confront destiny. This
+very hour, this very moment, I call upon you to make your decision; and
+it shall be a final decision. Will you grovel on in poverty--the worst
+of all poverty, the gentleman's pittance? or will you make yourself
+possessor of the wealth which your uncle Oswald bequeathed to others?
+Look me in the face, Reginald, as you are a man, and answer me, Which
+is it to be--wealth or poverty?"
+
+"It is too late to answer poverty," replied the baronet, in a gloomy
+and sullen tone. "You cannot bring my uncle back to life; you cannot
+undo your work."
+
+"I do not pretend to bring the dead to life. I am not talking of the
+past--I am talking of the future."
+
+"Suppose I say that I will endure poverty rather than plunge deeper
+into the pit you have dug--what then?"
+
+"In that case, I will bid you good speed, and leave you to your poverty
+and--a clear conscience," answered Victor, coolly. "I am a poor man
+myself; but I like my friends to be rich. If you do not care to grasp
+the wealth which might be yours, neither do I care to preserve our
+acquaintance. So we have merely to bid each other good night, and part
+company."
+
+There was a pause--Reginald Eversleigh sat with his arms folded, his
+eyes fixed on the fire. Victor watched him with a sinister smile upon
+his face.
+
+"And if I choose to go on," said Reginald, at last; "if I choose to
+tread farther on the dark road which I have trodden so long--what then?
+Can you ensure me success, Victor Carrington?"
+
+"I can," replied the Frenchman.
+
+"Then I will go on. Yes; I will be your slave, your tool, your willing
+coadjutor in crime and treachery; anything to obtain at last the
+heritage out of which I have been cheated."
+
+"Enough! You have made your decision. Henceforward let me hear no
+repinings, no hypocritical regrets. And now, order your horse, gallop
+back as fast as you can to the neighbourhood of Hallgrove, and show
+yourself foremost amongst those who seek for Lionel Dale."
+
+"Yes, yes; I will obey you--I will shake off this miserable hesitation.
+I will make my nature iron, as you have made yours."
+
+Sir Reginald rang, and ordered his horse to be brought round to the
+door of the inn.
+
+"Where and when shall I see you again?" he asked Victor, as he was
+putting on the coat which had hung before the fire to be dried.
+
+"In London, when you return there."
+
+"You leave here soon?"
+
+"To-morrow morning. You will write to me by to-morrow night's post to
+tell me all that has occurred in the interval."
+
+"I will do so," answered Reginald.
+
+"Good, and now go; you have already been too long out of the way of
+those who should have witnessed your affectionate anxiety about your
+cousin."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+                        "I AM WEARY OF MY PART."
+
+Reginald mounted his horse, questioned the ostler respecting the way to
+the appointed spot on the river-bank, and rode away in the direction
+indicated. He had no difficulty in discovering the scene of the
+appointed meeting. The light of the torches in the hands of the
+searchers guided him to the spot.
+
+Here he found gentlemen and grooms, huntsmen and farmers, on horseback,
+riding up and down the river-bank; some carrying lighted torches, whose
+lurid glare shone red against the darkness of the night; all busy, all
+excited.
+
+Amongst these the baronet found Douglas Dale, who rode up to meet his
+cousin, as the other approached.
+
+"Any news, Reginald?" he asked, in a voice that was hoarse with fatigue
+and excitement.
+
+"None," answered Sir Reginald: "I have ridden miles, and made many
+inquiries, but have been able to discover no traces. Have you no
+tidings?"
+
+"None but evil ones," replied Douglas Dale, in a tone of despair "we
+have found a battered hat on the edge of the river--hat which my
+brother's valet identifies as that worn by his master. We fear the
+worst, Reginald--the very worst. All inquiries have been made in the
+village, at every farm-house in the parish, and far beyond the parish.
+My brother has been seen nowhere. Since we rode down the hill, it seems
+as if no human eye had rested on him. In that moment he vanished as
+utterly as if the earth had opened to swallow him up alive."
+
+"What is it that you fear?"
+
+"We fear that he tried to cross the river at some point higher up,
+where the stream is swollen to a perilous extent, and that both horse
+and rider were swept away by the current."
+
+"In that case both horse and rider must be found--alive or dead."
+
+"Ultimately, perhaps, but not easily," answered Douglas; "the bed of
+the stream is a mass of tangled weeds. I have heard Lionel say that men
+have been drowned in that river whose bodies have never been
+discovered."
+
+"It is horrible!" exclaimed Reginald; "but let us still hope for the
+best. All this may be needless misery."
+
+"I fear not, Reginald," answered Douglas; "my brother Lionel is not a
+man to be careless about giving anxiety to those who love him."
+
+"I will ride farther along the bank," said the baronet; "I may hear
+something."
+
+"And I will wait here," replied Douglas, with the dull apathy of
+despair. "The news of my brother's death will reach me soon enough."
+
+Reginald Eversleigh rode on by the river brink, following a group of
+horsemen carrying torches. Douglas waited, with his ear on the alert to
+catch every sound, his heart beating tumultuously, in the terrible
+expectation that each moment would bring him the news he dreaded to
+hear.
+
+Endless as that interval of expectation and suspense appeared to
+Douglas Dale, in reality it was not of very long duration. The cold of
+the winter's night did not affect him, the burning fever of fear
+devoured him. Soon he lost sight of the glimmering of the torches, as
+the bearers followed the bend of the river, and the sound of the men's
+voices died out of his ears. But after a while he heard a shout, then
+another, and then two men came running towards him, as fast as they
+could in the darkness. Douglas Dale knew them both, and called out,
+"What is it, Freeman? What is it, Carey? Bad news, I fear."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Douglas, bad news. We've found the rector's hunting-whip."
+
+"Where?" stammered Douglas.
+
+"Below the bridge, sir, close by the ash-tree; and the bank is broken.
+I'm afraid it's all up, sir; if he went in there, the horse and he are
+both gone, sir."
+
+Like a man walking in a dream, Douglas Dale accompanied the bearers of
+the evil tidings to the spot where the group of searchers was collected
+together. In the midst stood Squire Mordaunt, holding in his hand a
+heavy hunting-whip, which all present recognized, and many had seen in
+the rector's hand only that morning. They all made way for Douglas
+Dale; they were very silent now, and hopeless conviction was on every
+face.
+
+"This makes it too plain, Douglas," said Squire Mordaunt, as he handed
+the whip to the rector's brother; "bear it as well as you can, my dear
+fellow. There's nothing to be done now till daylight."
+
+"Nothing more?" said Reginald, while Douglas covered his face, and
+groaned in unrestrained anguish; "the drags can surely be used? the--"
+
+"Wait a minute, Sir Reginald," said the squire, holding up his hand;
+"of course your impatience is very natural, but it would only defeat
+itself. To drag the river by torchlight would be equally difficult and
+vain. It shall be done as soon as ever there is light. Till then, there
+is nothing for any of us to do but to wait. And first, let us get poor
+Douglas home."
+
+Douglas Dale made no resistance; he knew the squire spoke truth and
+common-sense. The melancholy group broke up, the members of the rectory
+returned to its desolate walls, and Douglas at once shut himself up in
+his room, leaving to Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Squire Mordaunt the
+task of making all the arrangements for the morrow, and communicating
+to the ladies the dire intelligence which must be imparted.
+
+Early in the morning, Squire Mordaunt went to Douglas Dale's room. He
+found him stretched upon the bed in his clothes. He had made no change
+in his dress, and had evidently intended to prolong his vigil until the
+morning, but nature had been exhausted, and in spite of himself
+Douglas? Dale slept. His old friend stole softly from the room, and
+cautioning the household not to permit him who must now be regarded as
+their master to be disturbed, he went out, and proceeded to the search.
+
+Douglas Dale did not awake until nine o'clock, and then, starting up
+with a terrible consciousness of sorrow, and a sense of self-reproach
+because he had slept, he found Squire Mordaunt standing by his bed. The
+good old gentleman took the young man's hand in silence, and pressed it
+with a pressure which told all.
+
+They laid the disfigured dead body of him who but yesterday had been
+the beloved and honoured master of the house in the library, where he
+had received the ineffectual warning of the gipsy. It was while Douglas
+Dale was contemplating the pale, still features of his brother, with
+grief unutterable, that a servant tapped gently at the door, and called
+Mr. Mordaunt out.
+
+"'Niagara' is come home, sir," said the man. "He were found, just now,
+on the lower road, a-grazing, and he ain't cut, nor hurt in any way,
+sir."
+
+"He's dirty and wet, I suppose?"
+
+"Well, sir, he's dirty, certainly; and the saddle is soaking; but he's
+pretty dry, considering."
+
+"Are the girths broken?"
+
+"No, sir, there's nothing amiss with them."
+
+"Very well. Take care of the horse, but say nothing about him to Mr.
+Dale at present."
+
+The visitors at Hallgrove Rectory had received the intelligence which
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh had communicated to them with the deepest
+concern. Arrangements were made for the immediate departure of the
+Grahams, and of Mrs. Mordaunt and her daughters. The squire and Sir
+Reginald were to remain with Douglas Dale until the painful formalities
+of the inquest and the funeral should be completed.
+
+Douglas Dale was not a weak man, and no one more disliked any
+exhibition of sentiment than he. Nevertheless, it was a hard task for
+him to enter the breakfast-room, and bid farewell to the guests who had
+been so merry only yesterday. But it had to be done, and he did it. A
+few sad and solemn words were spoken between him and the Mordaunts, and
+the girls left the room in tears. Then he advanced to Lydia Graham, who
+was seated in an arm-chair by the fire, still, and pale as a marble
+statue. There were no tears in her eyes, no traces of tears upon her
+cheeks, but in her heart there was angry, bitter, raging
+disappointment--almost fury, almost despair.
+
+Douglas Dale could not look at her without seeing that in very truth
+the event which was so terrible to him was terrible to her also, and
+his manly heart yearned towards the woman whom he had thought but
+little of until now; who had perhaps loved, and certainly now was
+grieving for, his beloved brother.
+
+"Shall we ever meet again, Mr. Dale?" she said, wonderingly.
+
+"Why should we not?"
+
+"You will not be able to endure England, perhaps, after this terrible
+calamity. You will go abroad. You will seek distraction in change of
+scene. Men are such travellers now-a-days."
+
+"I shall not leave England, Miss Graham," answered Douglas, quietly; "I
+am a man of the world--I venture to hope that I am also a Christian--
+and I can nerve myself to endure grief as a Christian and a man of the
+world should endure it. My brother's death will make no alteration in
+the plan of my life. I shall return to London almost immediately."
+
+"And we may hope to see you in London?"
+
+"Captain Graham and I are members of the same club. We are very likely
+to meet occasionally."
+
+"And am I not to see you as well as my brother?" asked Lydia, in a low
+voice.
+
+"Do you really wish to see me?"
+
+"Can you wonder that I do so--for the sake of old times. We are friends
+of long standing, remember, Mr. Dale."
+
+"Yes," answered Douglas, with marked gravity. "We have known each other
+for a long time."
+
+Captain Graham entered the room at this moment.
+
+"The carriage which is to take us to Frimley is ready, Lydia," he said;
+"your trunks are all on the roof, and you have only to wish Mr. Dale
+good-bye."
+
+"A very sad farewell," murmured Miss Graham. "I can only trust that we
+may meet again under happier circumstances."
+
+"I trust we may," replied Douglas, earnestly.
+
+Miss Graham was bonneted and cloaked for the journey. She had dressed
+herself entirely in black, in respectful regard of the melancholy
+circumstances attending her departure. Nor did she forget that the
+sombre hue was peculiarly becoming to her. She wore a dress of black
+silk, a voluminous cloak of black velvet trimmed with sables, and a
+fashionable bonnet of the same material, with a drooping feather.
+
+Douglas conducted his guests to the carriage, and saw Miss Graham
+comfortably seated, with her shawls and travelling-bags on the seat
+opposite.
+
+It was with a glance of mournful tenderness that Miss Graham uttered
+her final adieu; but there was no responsive glance in the eyes of
+Douglas Dale. His manner was serious and subdued; but it was a manner
+not easy to penetrate.
+
+Gordon Graham flung himself back in his seat with a despairing groan.
+
+"Well, Lydia," he said, "this accident in the hunting-field has been
+the ruin of all our hopes. I really think you are the most unlucky
+woman I ever encountered. After angling for something like ten years in
+the matrimonial fisheries, you were just on the point of landing a
+valuable fish, and at the last moment your husband that is to be goes
+and gets drowned during a day's pleasure."
+
+"What should you say if this accident, which you think unlucky, should,
+after all, be a fortunate event for us?" asked Lydia, with
+significance.
+
+"What the deuce do you mean?"
+
+"How very slow of comprehension you are to-day, Gordon!" exclaimed the
+lady, impatiently; "Lionel Dale's income was only five thousand a
+year--very little, after all, for a woman with my views of life."
+
+"And with your genius for running into debt," muttered her brother.
+
+"Do you happen to remember the terms of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's will?"
+"I should think I do, indeed," replied the captain; "the will was
+sufficiently talked about at the time of the baronet's death."
+
+"That will left five thousand a year to each of the two brothers,
+Lionel and Douglas. If either should die unmarried, the fortune left to
+him was to go to the survivor. Lionel Dale's death doubles Douglas
+Dale's income. A husband with ten thousand a year would suit me very
+well indeed. And why should I not win Douglas as easily as I won
+Lionel?"
+
+"Because you are not likely to have the same opportunities."
+
+"I have asked Douglas to visit us in London."
+
+"An invitation which must be very flattering to him, but which he may
+or may not accept. However, my dear Lydia, I have the most profound
+respect for your courage and perseverance; and if you can win a husband
+with ten thousand a year instead of five, so much the better for you,
+and so much the better for me, as I shall have a richer brother-in-law
+to whom to apply when I find myself in difficulties."
+
+The carriage had reached Frimley by this time. The brother and sister
+took their places in the coach which was to convey them to London.
+
+Lydia drew down her veil, and settled herself comfortably in a corner
+of the vehicle, where she slept through the tedium of the journey.
+
+At thirty years of age a woman of Miss Graham's character is apt to be
+studiously careful of her beauty; and Lydia felt that she needed much
+repose after the fever and excitement of her visit to Hallgrove
+Rectory.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh played his part well during the few days in
+which he remained at the rectory. No mourner could have seemed more
+sincere than he, and everybody agreed that the spendthrift baronet
+exhibited an unaffected sorrow for his cousin's fate, which proved him
+to be a very noble-hearted fellow, in spite of all the dark stories
+that had been told of his youth.
+
+Before leaving Hallgrove, Reginald took care to make himself thoroughly
+acquainted with his cousin's plans for the future. Douglas, with ten
+thousand a year, was, of course, a more valuable acquaintance than he
+had been as the possessor of half that income, even if there had been
+no dark influence ever busy weaving its secret and fatal web.
+
+"You will go back to your old life in London, Douglas, I suppose?"
+said Sir Reginald. "There you will soonest forget the sad affliction
+that has befallen you. In the hurrying whirlpool of modern life there
+is no leisure for sorrow."
+
+"Yes, I shall come to London," answered Douglas.
+
+"And you will occupy your old quarters?"
+
+"Decidedly."
+
+"And we shall see as much of each other as ever--eh, Douglas?" said Sir
+Reginald. "You must not let poor Lionel's fate prey upon your mind, you
+know, my dear fellow; or your health, as well as your spirits, will
+suffer. You must go down to Hilton House, and mix with the old set
+again. That sort of thing will cheer you up a little."
+
+"Yes," answered Douglas. "I know how far I may rely upon your
+friendship, Reginald. I shall place myself quite in your hands."
+
+"My dear fellow, you will not find me unworthy of your confidence."
+
+"I ought not to find you so, Reginald."
+
+Sir Reginald looked at his kinsman thoughtfully for a moment, fancying
+there was some hidden meaning in Douglas Dale's words. But the tone in
+which he had uttered them was perfectly careless; and Reginald's
+suspicion was dispelled by the frank expression of his face.
+
+Sir Reginald left Hallgrove a few days after the fatal accident in the
+hunting-field, and went back to his London lodging, which seemed very
+shabby and comfortless after the luxury of Hallgrove Rectory. He did
+not care to spend his evenings at Hilton House, for he shrank from
+hearing Paulina's complaints about her loneliness and poverty. The
+London season had not yet begun, and there were few dupes whom the
+gamester could victimize by those skilful manoeuvres which so often
+helped him to success. It may be that some of the victims had
+complained of their losses, and the villa inhabited by the elegant
+Austrian widow had begun to be known amongst men of fashion as a place
+to be avoided.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh feared that it must be so, when he found the few
+young men he met at his club rather disinclined to avail themselves of
+Madame Durski's hospitality.
+
+"Have you been to Fulham lately, Caversham?" he asked of a young
+lordling, who was master of a good many thousands per annum, but not
+the most talented of mankind.
+
+"Fulham!" exclaimed Lord Caversham; "what's Fulham? Ah, to be sure, I
+remember--place by the river--very nice--villas--boat-races, and that
+kind of thing. Let me see, bishops, and that kind of church-going
+people live at Fulham, don't they?"
+
+"I thought you would have remembered one person who lives at Fulham--a
+very handsome woman, who made a strong impression upon you."
+
+"Did she--did she, by Jove?" cried the viscount; "and yet, upon my
+honour, Eversleigh, I can't remember her. You see, I know so many
+splendid women; and splendid women are perpetually making an impression
+upon me--and I am perpetually making an impression upon splendid women.
+It's mutual, by Jove, Eversleigh, quite mutual. And pray, who is the
+lady in question?"
+
+"The beautiful Viennese, Paulina Durski."
+
+The lordling made a wry face.
+
+"Paulina Durski! Yes, Paulina is a pretty woman," he murmured,
+languidly; "a very pretty woman; and you're right, Eversleigh--she did
+make a profound impression upon me. But, you see, I found the
+impression cost me rather too much. Hilton House is the nicest place in
+the world to visit; but if a fellow finds himself losing two or three
+hundred every time he crosses the threshold, you can be scarcely
+surprised if he prefers spending his evenings where he can enjoy
+himself a little more cheaply. However, perhaps you'll hardly
+understand my feelings on this subject, Eversleigh; for if I remember
+rightly you were always a winner when I played at Madame Durski's."
+
+"Was I?" said Sir Reginald, with the air of a man who endeavours to
+recall circumstances that are almost forgotten.
+
+The lordling was not altogether without knowledge of the world and of
+his fellow-men, and there had been a certain significance in his speech
+which had made Eversleigh wince.
+
+"Did I win when you were there?" he asked, carelessly. "Upon my word, I
+have forgotten all about it."
+
+"I haven't," answered Lord Caversham. "I bled pretty freely on several
+occasions when you and I played _ecarte_; and I have not forgotten the
+figures on the cheques I had the pleasure of signing in your favour.
+No, my dear Eversleigh, although I consider Madame Durski the most
+charming of women, I don't feel inclined to go to Hilton House again."
+
+"Ah!" said Sir Reginald, with a sneer; "there are so few men who have
+the art of losing with grace. We have no Stavordales now-a-days. The
+man who could win eleven thousand at a coup, and regret that he was not
+playing high, since in that case he would have won millions, is an
+extinct animal."
+
+"No doubt of it, dear boy; the gentlemanly art of losing placidly is
+dying out; and I confess that, for my part, I prefer winning," answered
+Lord Caversham, coolly.
+
+This brief conversation was a very unpleasant one for Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh. It told him that his career as a gamester must soon come to
+a close, or he would find himself a disgraced and branded wretch,
+avoided and despised by the men he now called his friends.
+
+It was evident that Viscount Caversham suspected that he had been
+cheated; nor was it likely that he would keep his suspicions secret
+from the men of his set.
+
+The suspicion once whispered would speedily be repeated by others who
+had lost money in the saloons of Madame Durski. Hints and whispers
+would swell into a general cry, and Sir Reginald Eversleigh would find
+himself tabooed.
+
+The prospect before him looked black as night--a night illumined by one
+lurid star, and that was the promise of Victor Carrington.
+
+"It is time for me to have done with poverty," he said to himself.
+"Lord Caversham's insolent innuendoes would be silenced if I had ten
+thousand a year. It is clear that the game is up at Hilton House.
+Paulina may as well go back to Paris or Vienna. The pigeons have taken
+fright, and the hawks must seek a new quarry."
+
+Sir Reginald drove straight from his club to the little cottage beyond
+Malda Hill. He scarcely expected to find the man whom he had last seen
+at an inn in Dorsetshire; but, to his surprise, he was conducted
+immediately to the laboratory, where he discovered Victor Carrington
+bending over an alembic, which was placed on the top of a small
+furnace.
+
+The surgeon looked up with a start, and Reginald perceived that he wore
+the metal mask which he had noticed on a former occasion.
+
+"Who brought you here?" asked Victor, impatiently.
+
+"The servant who admitted me," answered Reginald. "I told her I was
+your intimate friend, and that I wanted to see you immediately. She
+therefore brought me here."
+
+"She had no right to do so. However, no matter. When did you return? I
+scarcely expected to see you in town as soon."
+
+"I scarcely expected to find you hereafter our meeting at Frimley,"
+replied the baronet.
+
+"There was nothing to detain me in the country. I came back some days
+ago, and have been busy with my old studios in chemistry."
+
+"You still dabble with poisons, I perceive," said Sir Reginald,
+pointing to the mask which Victor had laid aside on a table near him.
+
+"Every chemist must dabble in poisons, since poison forms an element of
+all medicines," replied Victor. "And now tell me to what new dilemma of
+yours do I owe the honour of this visit. You rarely enter this house
+except when you find yourself desperately in need of my humble
+services. What is the last misfortune?"
+
+"I have just come from the Phoenix, where I met Caversham, I thought I
+should be able to get a hundred or so out of him at _ecarte_ to-night;
+but the game is up in that quarter."
+
+"He suspects that he has been--_singularly_ unfortunate?"
+
+"He knows it. No man who was not certain of the fact would have dared
+to say what he said to me. He insulted me, Carrington-insulted me
+grossly; and I was not able to resent his insolence."
+
+"Never mind his insolence," answered Victor; "in six months your
+position will be such that no man will presume to insult you. So the
+game is up at Hilton House, is it? I thought you were going on a little
+too fast. And pray what is to be the next move?"
+
+"What can we do? Paulina's creditors are impatient, and she has very
+little money to give them. My own debts are too pressing to permit of
+my helping her; and such being the case, the best thing she can do will
+be to get back to the Continent as soon as she can."
+
+"On no account, my dear Reginald!" exclaimed Carrington. "Madame Durski
+must not leave Hilton House."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Never mind the why. I tell you, Reginald, she must stay. You and I
+must find enough money to stave off the demands of her sharpest
+creditors."
+
+"I have not a sixpence to give her," answered the baronet; "I can
+scarcely afford to pay for the lodging that shelters me, and can still
+less afford to lend money to other people."
+
+"Not even to the woman who loves you, and whom you profess to love?"
+said Victor, with a sneer. "What a noble-minded creature you are, Sir
+Reginald Eversleigh--a pattern of chivalry and devotion! However,
+Madame Durski must remain; that is essential to the carrying out of my
+plans. If you will not find the money, I know who will."
+
+"And pray who is this generous knight-errant so ready to rush to the
+rescue of beauty in distress?"
+
+"Douglas Dale. He is over head and ears in love with the Austrian
+widow, and will lend her the money she wants. I shall go at once to
+Madame Durski and give her a few hints as to her line of conduct."
+
+There was a pause, during which the baronet seemed to be thinking
+deeply.
+
+"Do you think that a wise course?" he asked, at last.
+
+"Do I think what course wise?" demanded his friend.
+
+"The line of conduct you propose. You say Douglas is in love with
+Paulina, and I myself have seen enough to convince me that you are
+right. If he is in love with her, he is just the man to sacrifice every
+other consideration for her sake. What if he should marry her? Would
+not that be a bad look-out for us?"
+
+"You are a fool, Reginald Eversleigh," cried Victor contemptuously;
+"you ought to know me better than to fear my discretion. Douglas Dale
+loves Paulina Durski, and is the very man to sacrifice all worldly
+interests for her sake; the man to marry her, even were she more
+unworthy of his love than she is. But he never will marry her,
+notwithstanding."
+
+"How will you prevent such a marriage?"
+
+"That is my secret. Depend upon it I will prevent it. You remember our
+compact the night we met at Frimley."
+
+"I do," answered Reginald, in a voice that was scarcely above a
+whisper.
+
+"Very well; I will be true to my part of that compact, depend upon it.
+Before this new-born year is out you shall be a rich man."
+
+"I have need of wealth, Victor," replied the baronet, eagerly; "I have
+bitter need of it. There are men who can endure poverty; but I am not
+one of them. If my position does not change speedily I may find myself
+branded with the stigma of dishonour--an outlaw from society. I must be
+rich at any cost--at any cost, Victor."
+
+"You have told me that before," answered the Frenchman, coolly, "and I
+have promised that you shall be rich. But if I am to keep my promise,
+you must submit yourself with unquestioning faith to my guidance. If
+the path we must tread together is a dark one, tread it blindly. The
+end will be success. And now tell me when you expect to see Douglas
+Dale in London."
+
+Sir Reginald explained his cousin's plans, and after a brief
+conversation left the cottage. He heard Mrs. Carrington's birds
+twittering in the cold January sunshine, and a passing glimpse through
+the open doorway of the drawing-room revealed to him the exquisite
+neatness and purity of the apartment, which even at this season was
+adorned with a few flowers.
+
+"Strange!" he thought to himself, as he left the house; "any stranger
+entering that abode would imagine it the very shrine of domestic peace
+and simple happiness, and yet it is inhabited by a fiend."
+
+He went back to town. He dined alone in his dingy lodging, scarcely
+daring to show himself at his club--Lord Caversham had spoken so
+plainly; and had, no doubt, spoken to others still more plainly.
+Reginald Eversleigh's face grew hot with shame as he remembered the
+insults he had been obliged to endure with pretended unconsciousness.
+
+He feared to encounter other men who also had been losers at Hilton
+House, and who might speak as significantly as the viscount had spoken.
+This man, who violated the laws of heaven and earth with little terror
+of the Divine vengeance, feared above all to be cut by the men of his
+set.
+
+This is the slavery which the man of fashion creates for himself--these
+are the fetters which such men as Reginald Eversleigh forge for their
+own souls.
+
+But before we trace the progress of Sir Reginald from step to step in
+this terrible career, we must once more revert to the strange visitors
+at Frimley.
+
+Jane Payland by no means approved of passing Christmas-day in the
+uninteresting seclusion of a country inn, with nothing more festive to
+look forward to than a specially ordered, but lonely dinner, and
+nothing to divert her thoughts but the rural spectacle afforded by the
+inn-yard. As to going out for a walk in such weather, she would not
+have thought of such a thing, even if she had any one to walk out with;
+and to go alone--no--Jane Payland had no fancy for amusement of that
+order. The day had been particularly dreary to the lady's maid, because
+the lady had been busily engaged in affairs of which she had no
+cognizance, and this ignorance, not a little exasperating even in town,
+became well-nigh intolerable to her in the weariness, the idleness, and
+the dullness of Frimley. When Lady Eversleigh went out in the dark
+evening, accompanied by the mysterious personage in whom Jane Payland
+had recognized their fellow-lodger, the amazement which she experienced
+produced an agreeable variety in her sensations, and the fact that the
+man with the vulture-like beak carried a carpet-bag intensified her
+surprise.
+
+"Now I'm almost sure she is something to him; and she has come down
+here with him to see her people," said Jane Payland to herself, as she
+sat desolately by the fire in her mistress's room, a well-thumbed novel
+lying neglected on her knee; "and she's mean enough to be ashamed of
+them. Well, I don't think I should be that of my own flesh and blood,
+if I was ever so great and so grand. I suppose the bag is full of
+presents--I'm sure she might have told me if it was clothes she was
+going to give away; I shouldn't have grudged 'em to the poor things."
+
+Grumbling a good deal, wondering more, and feasting a little, Jane
+Payland got through the time until her mistress returned. But for all
+her grumbling, and all her suspicion, the girl was daily growing more
+and more attached to her mistress, and her respect was increasing with
+her liking. Lady Eversleigh returned to the inn alone late on that
+dismal Christmas-night, and she looked worn, troubled, and weary. After
+a few kind words to Jane Payland, she dismissed the girl, and went to
+bed, very tired and heart-sick. "How am I to prove it?" she asked
+herself, as she lay wearily awake. "How am I to prove it? in my
+borrowed character I am suspected; in my own, I should not be believed,
+or even listened to for a moment. He is a good man, that Lionel Dale,
+and he is doomed, I fear."
+
+On the morning of the twenty-sixth Mr. Andrew Larkspur had another long
+private conference with Lady Eversleigh, the immediate result of which
+was his setting out, mounted on the stout pony which we have seen in
+difficulties in a previous chapter, and vainly endeavouring to come up
+with Lionel Dale at the hunt. When Mr. Andrew Larkspur arrived at the
+melancholy conviction that his errand was a useless one, and that he
+must only return to Frimley, and concert with Lady Eversleigh a new
+plan of action, he also became aware that he was more hurt and shaken
+by his fall than he had at first supposed. When he reached Frimley he
+felt exceedingly sick and weak, ("queer," he expressed it), and was
+constrained to tell his anxious and unhappy client that he must go away
+and rest if he hoped to be fit for anything in the evening, or on the
+next day. "I will see Mr. Dale to-night, if he and I are both alive,"
+said Mr. Larkspur; "but if he was there before me I could not say a
+word to him now. I don't mean to say I have not had a hurt or two in
+the course of my life before now, but I never was so regularly dead-
+beat; and that's the truth."
+
+Thus it happened that the acute Mr. Larkspur was _hors de combat_ just
+at the time when his acuteness would have found most employment, and
+thus Lady Eversleigh's project of vengeance received, unconsciously,
+the first check. The game of reprisals was, indeed, destined to be
+played, but not by her; Providence would do that, in time, in the long
+run. Meanwhile, she strove, after her own fashion, to become the
+executor of its decrees.
+
+The news of Lionel Dale's sudden disappearance, and the alarm to which
+it gave rise, reached the little town of Frimley in due course; but it
+was slow to reach the lonely lady at the inn. Lady Eversleigh had taken
+counsel with herself after Mr. Larkspur had left her, and had come to
+the determination that she would tell Lionel Dale the whole truth. She
+resolved to lay before him a full statement of all the circumstances of
+her life, to reveal all she knew, and all she suspected concerning Sir
+Reginald Eversleigh, and to tell him of Carrington's presence in her
+neighbourhood, as well as the designs which she believed him to
+cherish. She told herself that her dead husband's kinsman could
+scarcely refuse to believe her statement, when she reminded him that
+she had no object to serve in this revelation but the object of truth
+and respect for her husband's memory. When he, Lionel Dale, could have
+rehabilitated her in public opinion by taking his place beside her, he
+had not done so; it was too late now, no advance on his part could undo
+that which had been done, and he could not therefore think that in
+taking this step she was trying to curry favour with him in order to
+further her own interest. After debating the question for some time,
+she resolved to write a letter, which Larkspur could carry to the
+rectory.
+
+A great deal of time was consumed by Lady Eversleigh in writing this
+letter, and the darkness had fallen long before it was finished. When
+she rang for lights, she took no notice of the person who brought them,
+and she directed that her dinner should not be served until she rang
+for it. Thus no interruption of her task occurred, until Mr. Larkspur,
+looking very little the better for his rest and refreshment, presented
+himself before her. Lady Eversleigh was just beginning to tell him what
+she had done, when he interrupted her, by saying, in a tone which would
+have astonished any of his intimates, for there was a touch of real
+feeling in it, apart from considerations of business--
+
+"I'm afraid we're too late. I'm very much afraid Carrington has been
+one too many for us, and has done the trick."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Lady Eversleigh, rising, in extreme
+agitation, and turning deadly pale. "Has any harm come to Lionel Dale?"
+
+Then Mr. Andrew Larkspur told Lady Eversleigh the report which had
+reached the town, and of whose truth a secret instinct assured them
+both, only too completely. They were, indeed, powerless now; the enemy
+had been too strong, too subtle, and too quick for them. Mr. Larkspur
+did not remain long with Lady Eversleigh; but having counselled her to
+keep silence on the subject, to ask no questions of any one, and to
+preserve the letter she had written, which Mr. Larkspur, for reasons of
+his own, was anxious to see, he left her, and set off for the rectory.
+He reached his destination before the return of the party who had gone
+to search for the missing man. He mingled freely, almost unnoticed,
+with the servants and the villagers who had crowded about the house and
+lodges, and all he heard confirmed him in his belief that the worst had
+happened, that Lionel Dale had, indeed, come by his death, either
+through the successful contrivance of Carrington, or by an
+extraordinary accident, coincident with his enemy's fell designs. Mr.
+Larkspur asked a great many questions of several persons that night,
+and as talking to a stranger helped the watchers and loiterers over
+some of the time they had to drag through until the genuine
+apprehension of some, and the curiosity of others, should be realized
+or satisfied, he met with no rebuffs. But, on the other hand, neither
+did he obtain any information of value. No stranger had been seen to
+join the hunt that day, or noticed lurking about Hallgrove that
+morning, and Mr. Larkspur's own reliable eyes had assured him that
+Carrington was not among the recipients of the rector's hospitality on
+Christmas-day. The footman, who had directed the unknown visitor by the
+way past the stables to the lower road, did not remember that
+circumstance and so it did not come to Mr. Larkspur's knowledge. When
+the party who had led the search for Lionel Dale returned to the
+rectory, and the worst was known, Mr. Larkspur went away, after having
+arranged with a small boy, who did odd jobs for the gardener at
+Hallgrove, that if the body was brought home in the morning, he should
+go over to Frimley, on consideration of half-a-crown, and inquire at
+the inn for Mr. Bennett.
+
+"It's no good thinking about what's to be done, till the body's found,
+and the inquest settled," thought Mr. Larkspur. "I don't think anything
+can be done _then_, but it's clear there's no use in thinking about it
+to-night. So I shall just tell my lady so, and get to bed. Confound
+that pony!"
+
+At a reasonably early hour on the following morning, the juvenile
+messenger arrived from Hallgrove, and, on inquiring for Mr. Bennett,
+was ushered into the presence of Mr. Larkspur. The intelligence he
+brought was brief, but important. The rector's body had been found,
+much disfigured; he had struck against a tree, the doctors said, in
+falling into the river, and been killed by the blow, "as well as
+drownded," added the boy, with some appreciation of the additional
+piquancy of the circumstance. He was laid out in the library. The fine
+folks were gone, or going, except Squire Mordaunt and Sir Reginald, the
+rector's cousin. Mr. Douglas took on about it dreadfully; the bay horse
+had come home, with his saddle wet, but he was not hurt or cut about,
+as the boy knew of. This was all the boy had to tell.
+
+Mr. Larkspur dismissed the messenger, having faithfully paid him the
+stipulated half-crown, and immediately sought the presence of Lady
+Eversleigh. The realization of all her fears shocked her deeply, and in
+the solemnity of the dread event which had occurred she almost lost
+sight of her own purpose, it seemed swallowed up in a calamity so
+appalling. But Mr. Larkspur was of a tougher and more practical
+temperament. He lost no time in setting before his client the state of
+the case as regarded herself, and the purpose with which she had gone
+to Frimley, now rendered futile. Mr. Larkspur entertained no doubt that
+Carrington had been in some way accessory to the death of Lionel Dale,
+but circumstances had so favoured the criminal that it would be
+impossible to prove his crime.
+
+"If I told you all I know about the horse and about the man," said Mr.
+Larkspur, "what good would it do? The man bought a horse very like Mr.
+Dale's, and he rode away from here mounted on that horse, on the same
+day that Mr. Dale was drowned. I believe he changed the horses in Mr.
+Dale's stable; but there's not a tittle of proof of it, and how he
+contrived the thing I cannot undertake to say, for no mortal saw him at
+the rectory or at the meet; and the horse that every one would be
+prepared to swear was the horse that Mr. Dale rode, is safe at home at
+the rectory now, having evidently been in the river. Seeing we can't
+prove the matter, it's my opinion we'd better not meddle with it, more
+particularly as nothing that we can prove will do Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh any harm, and, if either of this precious pair of rascals is
+to escape, you don't want it to be him."
+
+"Oh, no, no!" said Lady Eversleigh, "he is so much worse than the other
+as his added cowardice makes him."
+
+"Just so. Well, then, if you want to punish him and his agent, this is
+certainly not the opportunity. Next to winning, there's nothing like
+thoroughly understanding and acknowledging what you've lost, and we
+have lost this game, beyond all question. Let us see, now, if we cannot
+win the next. If I understand the business right, Mr. Douglas Dale is
+his brother's heir?"
+
+"Yes," said Lady Eversleigh; "his life only now stands between Sir
+Reginald and fortune."
+
+"Then he will take that life by Carrington's agency, as I believe he
+has taken Lionel Dale's," said Mr. Larkspur; "and my idea is that the
+proper way to prevent him is to go away from this place, where no good
+is to be done, and where any movement will only defeat our purpose, by
+putting him on his guard--letting him know he is watched (forewarned,
+forearmed, you know)--and set ourselves to watch Carrington in London."
+
+"Why in London? How do you know he's there?"
+
+Mr. Larkspur smiled.
+
+"Lord bless your innocence!" he replied. "How do I know it? Why, ain't
+London the natural place for him to be in? Ain't London the place where
+every one that has done a successful trick goes to enjoy it, and every
+one that has missed his tip goes to hide himself? I'll take my davy,
+though it's a thing I don't like doing in general, that Carrington's
+back in town, living with his mother, as right as a trivet."
+
+So Lady Eversleigh and Jane Payland travelled up to town again, and
+took up their old quarters. And Mr. Larkspur returned, and resumed his
+room and his accustomed habits. But before he had been many hours in
+London, he had ascertained, by the evidence of his own eyes, that
+Victor Carrington was, as he had predicted, in town, living with his
+mother, and "as right as a trivet."
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+                          A DANGEROUS ALLIANCE.
+
+In the afternoon of the day following that on which Sir Reginald paid a
+visit to Victor Carrington, the latter gentleman presented himself at
+the door of Hilton House. The frost had again set in, and this time
+with more than usual severity. There had been a heavy fall of snow, and
+the park-like grounds surrounding Madame Durski's abode had an almost
+fairy-like appearance, the tracery of the leafless trees defined by the
+snow that had lodged on every branch, the undulating lawn one bed of
+pure white.
+
+He knocked at the door and waited. The woman at the lodge had told him
+that it was very unlikely he would be able to see Madame Durski at this
+hour of the day, but he had walked on to the house notwithstanding.
+
+It was already nearly four o'clock in the afternoon; but at that hour
+Paulina had rarely left her own apartments.
+
+Victor Carrington knew this quite as well as the woman at the lodge,
+but he had business to do with another person as well as Paulina
+Durski. That other person was the widow's humble companion.
+
+The door was opened by Carlo Toas, Paulina's confidential courier and
+butler. This man looked very suspiciously at the visitor.
+
+"My mistress receives no one at this hour," he said.
+
+"I am aware that she does not usually see visitors so early," replied
+Carrington; "but as I come on particular business, and as I come a long
+way to see her, she will perhaps make an exception in my favour."
+
+He produced his card-case as he spoke, and handed the man a card, on
+which he had written the following words in pencil:
+
+"_Pray see me, dear madame. I come on really important business, which
+will bear no delay. If you cannot see me till your dinner-hour, I will
+wait._"
+
+The Spaniard ushered Victor into one of the reception-rooms, which
+looked cold and chill in the winter daylight. Except the grand piano,
+there was no trace of feminine occupation in the room. It looked like
+an apartment kept only for the reception of visitors--an apartment
+which lacked all the warmth and comfort of home.
+
+Victor waited for some time, and began to think his message had not
+been taken to the mistress of the house, when the door was opened, and
+Miss Brewer appeared.
+
+She looked at the visitor with an inquisitive glance as she entered the
+room, and approached him softly, with her light, greenish-grey eyes
+fixed upon his face.
+
+"Madame Durski has been suffering from nervous headache all day," she
+said, "and has not yet risen. Her dinner-hour is half-past six. If your
+business is really of importance, and if you care to wait, she will be
+happy to see you then."
+
+"My business is of real importance; and I shall be very glad to wait,"
+answered Victor. "Since Madame Durski is, unhappily, unable to receive
+me for some time, I shall gladly avail myself of the opportunity, in
+order to enjoy a little conversation with you, Miss Brewer," he said,
+courteously, "always supposing that you are not otherwise engaged."
+
+"I have no other engagement whatever," answered the lady, in a cold,
+measured voice.
+
+"I wish to speak to you upon very serious business," continued Victor,
+"and I believe that I can venture to address you with perfect candour.
+The business to which I allude concerns the interests of Madame Durski,
+and I have every reason to suppose that you are thoroughly devoted to
+her interests."
+
+"For whom else should I care?" returned Miss Brewer, with a bitter
+laugh. "Madame Durski is the only friend I can count in this world. I
+have known her from her childhood--and if I can believe anything good
+of my species, which is not very easy for me to do, I can believe that
+she cares for me--a little--as she might care for some piece of
+furniture which she had been accustomed to see about her from her
+infancy, and which she would miss if it were removed."
+
+"You wrong your friend," said Victor. "She has every reason to be
+sincerely attached to you, and I have little doubt that she is so."
+
+"What right have you to have little doubt or much doubt about it?"
+exclaimed Miss Brewer, contemptuously; "and why do you try to palm off
+upon me the idle nonsense which senseless people consider it incumbent
+on them to utter? You do not know Paulina Durski--I do. She is a woman
+who never in her life cared for more than two things."
+
+"And these two things are--"
+
+"The excitement of the gaming-table, and the love of your worthless
+friend, Sir Reginald Eversleigh."
+
+"Does she really love my friend?"
+
+"She does. She loves him as few men deserve to be loved--and least of
+all that man. She loves him, although she knows that her affection is
+unreturned, unappreciated. For his sake she would sacrifice her own
+happiness, her own prosperity. Women are foolish creatures, Mr.
+Carrington, and you men do wisely when you despise them."
+
+"I will not enter into the question of my friend's merits," said
+Victor; "but I know that Madame Durski has won the love of a man who is
+worthy of any woman's affection--a man who is rich, and can elevate her
+from her present--doubtful--position."
+
+The Frenchman uttered these last words with a great appearance of
+restraint and hesitation.
+
+"Say, miserable position," exclaimed Miss Brewer; "for Paulina Durski's
+position is the most degraded that a woman--whose life has been
+comparatively sinless--ever occupied."
+
+"And every day its degradation will become more profound," said Victor.
+"Unless Madame Durski follows my advice, she cannot long remain in
+England. In her native city she has little to hope for. In Paris, her
+name has acquired an evil odour. What, then, lies before her?"
+
+"Ruin!" exclaimed Miss Brewer, abruptly; "starvation it may be. I know
+that our race is nearly run, Mr. Carrington. You need not trouble
+yourself to remind me of our misery."
+
+"If I do remind you of it, I only do so in the hope that I may be able
+to serve you," answered Victor. "I have tasted all the bitterness of
+poverty, Miss Brewer. Forgive me, if I ask whether you, too, have been
+acquainted with its sting?"
+
+"Have I felt its sting?" cried the poor faded creature. "Who has felt
+the tooth of the serpent, Poverty, more cruelly than I? It has pierced
+my very heart. From my childhood I have known nothing but poverty.
+Shall I tell you my story, Mr. Carrington? I am not apt to speak of
+myself, or of my youth; but you have evoked the demon, Memory, and I
+feel a kind of relief in speaking of that long-departed time."
+
+"I am deeply interested in all you say, Miss Brewer. Stranger though I
+am, believe me that my interest is sincere."
+
+As Victor Carrington said this, Charlotte Brewer looked at him with a
+sharp, penetrating glance. She was not a woman to be fooled by shallow
+hypocrisies. The light of the winter's day was fading; but even in the
+fading light Victor saw the look of sharp suspicion in her pinched
+face.
+
+"Why should you be interested in me?" she asked, abruptly.
+
+"Because I believe you may be useful to me," answered Victor, boldly.
+"I do not want to deceive you, Miss Brewer. Great triumphs have been
+achieved by the union of two powerful minds."
+
+I know you to possess a powerful mind; I know you to be a woman above
+ordinary prejudices; and I want you to help me, as I am ready to help
+you. But you were about to tell me the story of your youth.
+
+"It shall be told briefly," said Miss Brewer, speaking in a rapid,
+energetic manner that was the very reverse of the measured tones she
+was wont to use. "I am the daughter of a disgraced man, who was a
+gentleman once; but I have forgotten that time, as he forgot it long
+before he died.
+
+"My father passed the last ten years of his life in a prison. He died
+in that prison, and within those dingy smoke-blackened walls my
+childhood was spent--a joyless childhood, without a hope, without a
+dream, haunted perpetually by the dark phantom, Poverty. I emerged from
+that prison to enter a new one, in the shape of a West-end boarding-
+school, where I became the drudge and scape-goat of rich citizens'
+daughters, heiresses presumptive to the scrapings of tallow-chandlers
+and coal-merchants, linen-drapers and cheesemongers. For six years I
+endured my fate patiently, uncomplainingly. Not one creature amongst
+that large household loved me, or cared for me, or thought whether I
+was happy or miserable.
+
+"I worked like a slave. I rose early, and went to bed late, giving my
+youth, my health, my beauty--you will smile, perhaps, Mr. Carrington,
+but in those days I was accounted a handsome woman--in exchange for
+what? My daily bread, and the education which was to enable me to earn
+a livelihood hereafter. Some distant relations undertook to clothe me;
+and I was dressed in those days about as shabbily as I have been
+dressed ever since. In all my life, I never knew the innocent pleasure
+which every woman feels in the possession of handsome clothes.
+
+"At eighteen, I left the boarding-school to go on the Continent, where
+I was to fill a situation which had been procured for me. That
+situation was in the household of Paulina Durski's father. Paulina was
+ten years of age, and I was appointed as her governess and companion.
+From that day to this, I have never left her. As much as I am capable
+of loving any one, I love her. But my mind has been embittered by the
+miseries of my girlhood, and I do not pretend to be capable of much
+womanly feeling."
+
+"I thank you for your candour," said Victor. "It is of importance for
+me to understand your position, for, by so doing, I shall be the better
+able to assist you. I may believe, then, that there is only one person
+in the world for whom you care, and that person is Paulina Durski?"
+
+"You may believe that."
+
+"And I may also believe that you, who have drained to the dregs the
+bitter cup of poverty, would do much, and risk much, in order to be
+rich?"
+
+"You may."
+
+"Then, Miss Brewer, let me speak to you openly, as one sincerely
+interested in you, and desirous of serving you and your charming but
+infatuated friend. May I hope that we shall be uninterrupted for some
+time longer, for I am anxious to explain myself at once, and fully, now
+that the opportunity has arisen?"
+
+"No one is likely to enter this room, unless summoned by me," said Miss
+Brewer. "You may speak freely, and at any length you please, Mr.
+Carrington; but I warn you, you are speaking to a person who has no
+faith in any profession of disinterested regard."
+
+As she spoke, Miss Brewer leaned back in her chair, folded her hands
+before her, and assumed an utterly impassible expression of
+countenance. No less promising recipient of a confidential scheme could
+have been seen: but Victor Carrington was not in the least discouraged.
+He replied, in a cheerful, deferential, and yet business-like tone:
+
+"I am quite aware of that, Miss Brewer; and for my part, I should not
+feel the respect I do feel for you if I believed you so deficient in
+sense and experience as to take any other view. I don't offer myself to
+you in the absurd disguise of a _preux chevalier_, anxious to espouse
+the unprofitable cause of two unprotected women in an equivocal
+position, and in circumstances rapidly tending to desperation."
+
+Here Victor Carrington glanced at his companion; he wanted to see if
+the shot had told. But Miss Brewer cared no more for the almost open
+insult, than she had cared for the implied interest conveyed in the
+exordium of his discourse. She sat silent and motionless. He continued:
+
+"I have an object to gain, which I am resolved to achieve. Two ways to
+the attainment of this object are open to me; the one injurious, in
+fact destructive, to you and Madame Durski, the other eminently
+beneficial. I am interested in you. I particularly like Madame Durski,
+though I am not one of the legion of her professed admirers."
+
+Miss Brewer shook her head sadly. That legion was much reduced in its
+numbers of late.
+
+"Therefore," continued Carrington, without seeming to observe the
+gesture, "I prefer to adopt the latter course, and further your
+interests in securing my own. I suppose you can at least understand and
+credit such very plain motives, so very plainly expressed, Miss
+Brewer?"
+
+"Yes," she said, "that may be true; it does not seem unlikely; we shall
+see."
+
+"You certainly shall. My explanation will not, I hope, be unduly
+tedious, but it is indispensable that it should be full. You know, Miss
+Brewer, that Sir Reginald Eversleigh and I are intimate friends?"
+
+Miss Brewer smiled--a pale, prolonged, unpleasant smile, and then
+replied, speaking very deliberately:
+
+"I know nothing of the kind, Mr. Carrington. I know you are much
+together, and have an air of familiar acquaintance, which is the true
+interpretation of friendship, I take it, between men of the world--of
+_your_ world in particular."
+
+The hard and determined expression of her manner would have discouraged
+and deterred most men. It did not discourage or deter Victor
+Carrington.
+
+"Put what interpretation you please upon my words," he said, "but
+recognize the facts. There is a strict alliance, if you prefer that
+phrase, between me and Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and his present
+intimacy, with his seeming devotion to Madame Durski, prevents him from
+carrying out the terms of that alliance to my satisfaction. I am
+therefore resolved to break off that intimacy. Do you comprehend me so
+far?"
+
+"Yes, I comprehend you so far," answered Miss Brewer, "perfectly."
+
+"Considering Madame Durski's feelings for Sir Reginald--feelings of
+which, I assure you, I consider him, even according to my own
+unpretending standard, entirely unworthy--this intimacy cannot be
+broken off without pain to her, but it might be destroyed without any
+profit, nay, with ruinous loss. Now, I cannot spare her the pain; that
+is necessary, indispensable, both for her good, and--which I don't
+pretend not to regard more urgently--my own. But I can make the pain
+eminently profitable to her, with your assistance--in fact, so
+profitable as to secure the peace and prosperity of her whole future
+life."
+
+He paused, and Miss Brewer looked steadily at him, but she did not
+speak.
+
+"Reginald Eversleigh owes me money, Miss Brewer, and I cannot afford to
+allow him to remain in my debt. I don't mean that he has borrowed money
+from me, for I never had any to lend, and, having any, should never
+have lent it." He saw how the tone he was taking suited the woman's
+perverted mind, and pursued it. "But I have done him certain services
+for which he undertook to pay me money, and I want money. He has none,
+and the only means by which he can procure it is a rich marriage. Such
+a marriage is within his reach; one of the richest heiresses in London
+would have him for the asking--she is an ironmonger's daughter, and
+pines to be My Lady--but he hesitates, and loses his time in visits to
+Madame Durski, which are only doing them both harm. Doing her harm,
+because they are deceiving her, encouraging a delusion; and doing him
+harm, because they are wasting his time, and incurring the risk of his
+being 'blown upon' to the ironmonger. Vulgar people of the kind, you
+know, my dear Miss Brewer, give ugly names, and attach undue importance
+to intimacies of this kind, and--and--in short, it is on the cards that
+Madame Durski may spoil Sir Reginald's game. Well, as that game is also
+mine, you will find no difficulty in understanding that I do not intend
+Madame Durski shall spoil it."
+
+"Yes, I understand that," said Miss Brewer, as plainly as before; "but
+I don't understand how Paulina is to be served in the affair, and I
+don't understand what my part is to be in it."
+
+"I am coming to that," he said. "You cannot be unaware of the
+impression which Madame Durski has made upon Sir Reginald's cousin,
+Douglas Dale."
+
+"I know he did admire her," said Miss Brewer, "but he has not been here
+since his brother's death. He is a rich man now."
+
+"Yes, he is--but that will make no change in him in certain respects.
+Douglas Dale is a fool, and will always remain so. Madame Durski has
+completely captivated him, and I am perfectly certain he would marry
+her to-morrow, if she could be brought to consent."
+
+"A striking proof that Mr. Douglas Dale deserves the character you have
+given him, you would say, Mr. Carrington?"
+
+"Madam, I am at the mercy of your perspicuity," said Victor, with a
+mock bow; "however, a truce to badinage--Douglas Dale is a rich man,
+and very much in love with Madame Durski; but he is the last man in the
+world to interfere with his cousin, by trying to win her affections, if
+he believes her attached to Sir Reginald. He is a fool in some things,
+as I have said before, and he is much more likely, if he thinks it a
+case of mutual desperation, to contribute a thousand a year or so to
+set the couple up in a modest competence, like a princely proprietor in
+a play, than to advance his own claims. Now, this modest competence
+business would not suit Sir Reginald, or Madame Durski, or me, but the
+other arrangement would be a capital thing for us all."
+
+"H--m, you see she really loves your friend, Sir Reginald," said Miss
+Brewer.
+
+"Tush," ejaculated Victor Carrington, contemptuously; "of course I know
+she does, but what does it matter? She would be the most wretched of
+women if Reginald married her, and _he won't_,--after all, that's the
+great point, he won't. Now Dale will, and will give her unlimited
+control of his money--a very nice position, _not_ so elevated as to
+ensure an undesirable raking-up of her antecedents, and the means of
+proving her gratitude to you, by providing for you comfortably for
+life."
+
+"That is all possible," replied Miss Brewer, as calmly as before; "but
+what am I to do towards bringing about so desirable a state of
+affairs."
+
+"You have to use the influence which your position _aupres de_ Madame
+Durski gives you. You can keep her situation constantly before her, you
+can perpetually harp upon its exigencies--they are pressing, are they
+not? Yes--then make them more pressing. Expose her to the constant
+worry and annoyance of poverty, make no effort to hide the
+inconvenience of ruin. She is a bad manager, of course--all women of
+her sort are bad managers. Don't help her--make the very worst of
+everything. Then, you can take every opportunity of pointing out
+Reginald's neglect, all his defalcations, the cruelty of his conduct to
+her, the evidence of his never intending to marry her, the selfishness
+which makes him indifferent to her troubles, and unwilling to help her.
+Work on pride, on pique, on jealousy, on the love of comfort and
+luxury, and the horror of poverty and privation, which are always
+powerful in the minds of women like Madame Durski. Don't talk much to
+her at first about Douglas Dale, especially until he has come to town
+and has resumed his visiting here; but take care that her difficulties
+press heavily upon her, and that she is kept in mind that help or hope
+from Reginald there is none. I have no doubt whatever that Dale will
+propose to her, if he does not see her infatuation for Reginald."
+
+"But suppose Mr. Dale does not come here at all?" asked Miss Brewer;
+"he has broken through the habit now, and he may have thought it over,
+and determined to keep away."
+
+"Suppose a moth flies away from a candle, Miss Brewer," returned
+Carrington, "and makes a refreshing excursion out of window into the
+cool evening air! May we not calculate with tolerable certainty on his
+return, and his incremation? The last thing in all this matter I should
+think of doubting would be the readiness of Douglas Dale to tumble
+head-foremost into any net we please to spread for him."
+
+A short pause ensued--interrupted by Miss Brewer, who said, "I suppose
+this must all be done quickly--on account of that wealthy Philistine,
+the ironmonger?"
+
+"On account of my happening to want money very badly, Miss Brewer, and
+Madame Durski finding herself in the same position. The more quickly
+the better for all parties. And now, I have spoken very plainly to you
+so far, let me speak still more plainly. It is manifestly for your
+advantage that Madame Durski should be rich and respectable, rather
+than that she should be poor and--under a cloud. It is no less
+manifestly, though not so largely, for your advantage, that I should
+get my money from Reginald Eversleigh, because, when I do, get it, I
+will hand you five hundred pounds by way of bonus."
+
+"If there were any means by which you could be legally bound to the
+fulfilment of that promise, Mr. Carrington," said Miss Brewer, "I
+should request you to put it in writing. But I am quite aware that no
+such means exist. I accept it, therefore, with moderate confidence, and
+will adopt the course you have sketched, not because I look for the
+punctual payment of the money, but because Paulina's good fortune, if
+secured, will secure mine. But I must add," and here Miss Brewer sat
+upright in her chair, and a faint colour came into her sallow cheek, "I
+should not have anything to do with your plots and plans, if I did not
+believe, and see, that this one is for Paulina's real good."
+
+Victor Carrington smiled, as he thought, "Here is a rare sample of
+human nature. Here is this woman, quite pleased with herself, and
+positively looking almost dignified, because she has succeeded in
+persuading herself that she is actuated by a good motive."
+
+The conversation between Miss Brewer and Victor Carrington lasted for
+some time longer, and then he was left alone, while Miss Brewer went to
+attend the _levee_ of Madame Durski. As he paced the room, Carrington
+smiled again, and muttered, "If Dale were only here, and she could be
+persuaded to borrow money of him, all would be right. So far, all is
+going well, and I have taken the right course. My motto is the motto of
+Danton--'_De l'audace, de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace_.'"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Victor Carrington dined with Madame Durski and her companion. The meal
+was served with elegance, but the stamp of poverty was too plainly
+impressed upon all things at Hilton House. The dinner served with such
+ceremony was but a scanty banquet--the wines were poor--and Victor
+perceived that, in place of the old silver which he had seen on a
+previous occasion, Madame Durski's table was furnished with the most
+worthless plated ware.
+
+Paulina herself looked pale and haggard. She had the weary air of a
+woman who finds life a burden almost too heavy for endurance.
+
+"I have consented to see you this evening, Mr. Carrington, in
+accordance with your very pressing message," she said, when she found
+herself alone in the drawing-room with Victor Carrington after dinner,
+Miss Brewer having discreetly retired; "but I cannot imagine what
+business you can have with me."
+
+"Do not question my motives too closely, Madame Durski," said Victor;
+"there are some secrets lying deep at the root of every man's
+existence. Believe me, when I assure you that I take a real interest in
+your welfare, and that I came here to-night in the hope of serving you.
+Will you permit me to speak as a friend?"
+
+"I have so few friends that I should be the last to reject any honest
+offer of friendship," answered Paulina, with a sigh. "And you are the
+friend of Reginald Eversleigh. That fact alone gives you some claim to
+my regard."
+
+The widow had admitted Victor Carrington to a more intimate
+acquaintance than the rest of her visitors; and it was fully understood
+between them that he knew of the attachment between herself and Sir
+Reginald.
+
+"Sir Reginald Eversleigh is my friend," replied Victor; "but do not
+think me treacherous, Madame Durski, when I tell you he is not worthy
+of your regard. Were he here at this moment, I would say the same. He
+is utterly selfish--it is of his own interest alone that he thinks; and
+were the chance of a wealthy marriage to offer itself, I firmly believe
+that he would seize it--ay! even if by doing so he knew that he was to
+break your heart. I think you know that I am speaking the truth, Madame
+Durski?"
+
+"I do," answered Paulina, in a dull, half despairing tone. "Heaven help
+me! I know that it is the truth. I have long known as much. We women
+are capable of supreme folly. My folly is my regard for your friend
+Reginald Eversleigh."
+
+"Let your pride work the cure of that wasted devotion, madame," said
+Victor, earnestly. "Do not submit any longer to be the dupe, the tool,
+of this man. Do you know how dearly your self-sacrifice has cost you? I
+am sure you do not. You do not know that this house is beginning to be
+talked about as a place to be shunned. You have observed, perhaps, that
+you have had few visitors of late. Day by day your visitors will grow
+fewer. This house is marked. It is talked of at the clubs; and Reginald
+Eversleigh will no longer be able to live upon the spoils won from his
+dupes and victims. The game is up, Madame Durski; and now that you can
+no longer be useful to Reginald Eversleigh, you will see how much his
+love is worth."
+
+"I believe he loves me," murmured Paulina, "after his own fashion."
+
+"Yes, madame, after his own fashion, which is, at the best, a strange
+one. May I ask how you spent your Christmas?"
+
+"I was very lonely; this house seemed horribly cold and desolate. No
+one came near me. There were no congratulations; no Christmas gifts.
+Ah! Mr. Carrington, it is a sad thing to be quite alone in the world."
+
+"And Reginald Eversleigh--the man whom you love--he who should have
+been at your side, was at Hallgrove Rectory, among a circle of
+visitors, flirting with the most notorious of coquettes--Miss Graham,
+an old friend of his boyish days."
+
+Victor looked at Paulina's face, and saw the random shot had gone home.
+She grew even paler than she had been before, and there was a nervous
+working of the lips that betrayed her agitation.
+
+"Were there ladies amongst the guests at Hallgrove?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, Madame Durski, there were ladies. Did you not know that it was to
+be so?"
+
+"No," replied Paulina. "Sir Reginald told me it was to be a bachelors'
+party."
+
+Victor saw that this petty deception on the part of her lover stung
+Paulina keenly.
+
+She had been deeply wounded by Reginald's cold and selfish policy; but
+until this moment she had never felt the pangs of jealousy.
+
+"So he was flirting with one of your fashionable English coquettes,
+while I was lonely and friendless in a strange country," she exclaimed.
+And then, after a brief pause, she added, passionately, "You are right,
+Mr. Carrington; your friend is unworthy of one thought from me, and I
+will think of him no more."
+
+"You will do wisely, and you will receive the proof of what I say ere
+long from the lips of Reginald Eversleigh himself. Tell me the truth
+dear madame, are not your pecuniary difficulties becoming daily more
+pressing?"
+
+"They have become so pressing," answered Paulina, "that, unless
+Reginald lends me money almost immediately, I shall be compelled to fly
+from this country in secret, like a felon, leaving all my poor
+possessions behind me. Already I have parted with my plate, as you no
+doubt have perceived. My only hope is in Reginald."
+
+"A broken reed on which to rely, madame. Sir Reginald Eversleigh will
+not lend you money. Since this house has become a place of evil odour,
+to be avoided by men who have money to lose, you are no longer of any
+use to Sir Reginald. He will not lend you money. On the contrary he
+will urge your immediate flight from England; and when you have gone--"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"There will be an obstacle removed from his pathway; and when the
+chance of a rich marriage arises, he will be free to grasp it."
+
+"Oh, what utter baseness!" murmured Paulina; "what unspeakable infamy!"
+
+"A selfish man can be very base, very infamous," replied Victor. "But
+do not let us speak further of this subject, dear Madame Durski. I have
+spoken with cruel truth; but my work has been that of the surgeon, who
+uses his knife freely in order to cut away the morbid spot which is
+poisoning the very life-blood of the sufferer. I have shown you the
+disease, the fatal passion, the wasted devotion, to which you are
+sacrificing your life; my next duty is to show you where your cure
+lies."
+
+"You may be a very clever surgeon," replied Paulina, scornfully; "but
+in this case your skill is unavailing. For me there is no remedy."
+
+"Nay, madame, that is the despairing cry of a romantic girl, and is
+unworthy the lips of an accomplished woman of the world. You complained
+just now of your loneliness. You said that it was very sad to be
+without a friend. How if I can show you that you possess one attached
+and devoted friend, who would be as willing to sacrifice himself for
+your interests as you have been willing to devote yourself to Reginald
+Eversleigh?"
+
+"Who is that friend?"
+
+"Douglas Dale."
+
+"Douglas Dale!" exclaimed Paulina. "Yes, I know, that Mr. Dale admires
+me, and that he is a good and honourable man; but can I take advantage
+of his admiration? Can I trade upon his love? I--who have no heart to
+give, no affection to offer in return for the honest devotion of a good
+man? Do not ask me to stoop to such baseness--such degradation."
+
+"I ask nothing from you but common sense," answered Victor impatiently.
+"Instead of wasting your love upon Reginald Eversleigh, who is not
+worthy a moment's consideration from you, give at least your esteem and
+respect to the honourable and unselfish man who truly loves you.
+Instead of flying from England, a ruined woman, branded with the name
+of cheat and swindler, remain as the affianced wife of Douglas Dale--
+remain to prove to Reginald Eversleigh that there are those in the
+world who know how to value the woman he has despised."
+
+"Yes, he has despised me," murmured Paulina, speaking to herself rather
+than to her companion; "he has despised me. He left me alone in this
+dreary house; in the Christmas festival time, when friends and lovers
+draw nearer together all the world over, united by the sweet influences
+of the season; he left me to sit alone by this desolate hearth, while
+he made merry with his friends--while he sunned himself in the smiles
+of happier women. What truth can he claim from me--he who has been
+falsehood itself?"
+
+She remained silent for some minutes after this, with her eyes fixed on
+the fire, her thoughts far away. Victor did not arouse her from that
+reverie. He knew that the work he had to do was progressing rapidly.
+
+He felt that he was moulding this proud and passionate woman to his
+will, as the sculptor moulds the clay which is to take the form of his
+statue.
+
+At last she spoke.
+
+"I thank you for your good advice, Mr. Carrington," she said, calmly;
+"and I will avail myself of your worldly wisdom. What would you have me
+do?"
+
+"I would have you tell Douglas Dale, when he returns to town and comes
+to see you, the position in which you find yourself with regard to
+money matters, and ask the loan of a few hundreds. The truth and depth
+of his love for you will be proved by his response to this appeal."
+
+"How came you to suspect his love for me?" asked Paulina. "It has never
+yet shaped itself in words. A woman's own instinct generally tells her
+when she is truly loved; but how came you, a bystander, a mere looker-
+on, to discover Douglas Dale's secret?"
+
+"Simply because I am a man of the world, and somewhat of an observer,
+and I will pledge my reputation as both upon the issue of your
+interview with Douglas Dale."
+
+"So be it," said Paulina; "I will appeal to him. It is a new
+degradation; but what has my whole life been except a series of
+humiliations? And now, Mr. Carrington, this interview has been very
+painful to me. Pardon me, if I ask you to leave me to myself."
+
+Victor complied immediately, and took leave of Madame Durski with many
+apologies for his intrusion. Before leaving the house he encountered
+Miss Brewer, who came out of a small sitting-room as he entered the
+hall.
+
+"You are going away, Mr. Carrington?" she asked.
+
+"Yes," he answered; "but I shall call again in a day or two. Meantime,
+let me hear from you, if Dale presents himself here. I have had some
+talk with your friend, and am surprised at the ease with which the work
+we have to do may be done. She despises Reginald now; she won't love
+him long. Good night, Miss Brewer."
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+                             MOVE THE FIRST.
+
+After the lapse of a few days, during which Victor Carrington carefully
+matured his plans, while apparently only pursuing his ordinary
+business, and leading his ordinary life of dutiful attention to his
+mother and quiet domestic routine, he received a letter in a
+handwriting which was unfamiliar to him. It contained the following
+words:
+
+"_In accordance with your desire, and my promise, I write to inform you
+that, D. D. has notified his return to London and his intention to
+visit P. He did not know whether she was in town, and, therefore, wrote
+before coming. She seemed much affected by his letter, and has replied
+to it, appointing Wednesday after-noon for receiving him, and inviting
+him to luncheon. No communication has been received from R. E., and she
+takes the fact easily. If you have any advice, or I suppose I should
+say instructions, to give me, you had better come here to-morrow
+(Tuesday), when I can see you alone.--C. B._"
+
+Victor Carrington read this note with a smile of satisfaction, which
+faithfully interpreted the feelings it produced. There was a business-
+like tone in his correspondent's letter which exactly suited his ideas
+of what it was advisable his agent should be.
+
+"She is really admirable," he said, as he destroyed Miss Brewer's note;
+"just clever enough to be useful, just shrewd enough to understand the
+precise force and weight of an argument, but not clever enough, or
+shrewd enough, to find out that she is used for any purpose but the one
+for which she has bargained."
+
+And then Victor Carrington wrote a few lines to Miss Brewer, in which
+he thanked her for her note, and prepared her to receive a visit from
+him on the following day. This written and posted, he walked up and
+down his laboratory, in deep thought for some time, and then once more
+seated himself at his desk. This time his communication was addressed
+to Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and merely consisted of a request that that
+gentleman should call upon him--Victor Carrington--on a certain day, at
+a week's distance from the present date.
+
+"I shall have more trouble with this shallow fool than with all the
+rest of them," said Victor to himself, as he sealed his letter; and,
+as he said it, he permitted his countenance to assume a very unusual
+expression of vexation; "his vanity will make him kick against letting
+Paulina turn him off; and he will run the risk of destroying the game
+sooner than suffer that mortification. But I will take care he _shall_
+suffer it, and _not_ destroy the game.
+
+"No, no, Sir Reginald Eversleigh, _you_ shall not be my stumbling-block
+in this instance. How horribly afraid he is of me," thought Victor
+Carrington, and a smile of cruel satisfaction, which might have become
+a demon, lighted his pale face at the reflection; "he is dying to know
+exactly how that business of Dale the elder was managed; he has the
+haziest notions in connection with it, and, by Jove, he dare not ask
+me. And yet, I am only his agent,--his _to be paid_ agent,--and he
+shakes in his shoes before me. Yes, and I will be paid too, richly
+paid, Sir Reginald, not only in money, but in power. In power--the best
+and most enjoyable thing that money has to buy."
+
+Victor Carrington sent his letter to the post, and joined his mother in
+her sitting-room, where her life passed placidly away, among her birds
+and her flowers. Mrs. Carrington had none of the vivacity about her
+which is so general an attribute of French women. She liked her quiet
+life, and had little sympathy with her son's restless ambition and
+devouring discontent. A cold, silent, self-contained woman, she shut
+herself up in her own occupations, and cared for nothing beyond them.
+She had the French national taste and talent for needlework, and
+generally listened to her son, as he talked or read to her, with a
+piece of elaborate embroidery in her hand. On the present occasion, she
+was engaged as usual, and Victor looked at her work and praised it,
+according to his custom.
+
+"What is it for, mother?" he asked.
+
+"An altar-cloth," she replied. "I cannot give money, you know, Victor,
+and so I am glad to give my work."
+
+The young man's dark eyes flashed, as he replied;--
+
+"True, mother, but the time will come--it is not far off now--when you
+and I shall both be set free from poverty, when we shall once more take
+our place in our own rank--when we shall be what the Champfontaines
+were, and do as the Champfontaines did--when this hateful English name
+shall be thrown aside, and this squalid English home abandoned, and the
+past restored to us, we to the past." He rose as he spoke, and walked
+about the room. A faint flush brightened his sallow face, an unwonted
+light glittered in his deep-set eyes. His mother continued to ply her
+needle, with downcast eyes, and a face which showed no sign of sympathy
+with her son's enthusiasm.
+
+"Industry and talent are good, my Victor," she said, "and they bring
+comfort, they bring _le bienetre_ in their train; but I do not think
+all the industry and talent you can display as a surgeon in London will
+ever enable you to restore the dignity and emulate the wealth of the
+old Champfontaines."
+
+Victor Carrington glanced at his mother almost angrily, and for an
+instant felt the impulse rise within him which prompted him to tell her
+that it was not only by the employment of means so tame and common-
+place that he designed to realize the cherished vision of his ambition.
+But he checked it instantly, and only said, with the reverential
+inflection which his voice never failed to take when he addressed his
+mother, "What, then, would you advise me to try, in addition?"
+
+"Marry a rich woman, my Victor; marry one of these moneyed English
+girls, who are, for the most part, permitted to follow their
+inclinations--inclinations which would surely, if encouraged, lead many
+of them your way." Mrs. Carrington spoke in the calmest tone possible.
+
+"Marry--I marry?" said Victor, in a tone of surprise, in which a quick
+ear would have noticed something also of disappointment. "I thought you
+would never like that, mother. It would part us, you know, and then
+what would you do?"
+
+"There is always the convent for me, Victor," said his mother, "if you
+no longer needed me." And she composedly threaded her needle, and began
+a very minute leaf in the pattern of her embroidery.
+
+Victor Carrington looked at his mother with surprise, and some vague
+sense of pain. She _could_ make up her mind to part with him--she had
+thought of the possibility, and with complacence. He muttered something
+about having something to do, and left her, strangely moved, while she
+calmly worked in at her embroidery.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+                  "WEAVE THE WARP, AND WEAVE THE WOOF."
+
+On the following day Victor Carrington presented himself at Hilton
+House, and was received by Miss Brewer alone. She was pale, chilly, and
+ungracious, as usual, and the understanding which had been arrived at
+between Carrington and herself did not move her to the manifestation of
+the smallest additional cordiality in her reception of him.
+
+"I have to thank you for your prompt compliance with my request, Miss
+Brewer," said Victor.
+
+She made no sound nor sign of encouragement, and he continued. "Since I
+saw you, another complication has arisen in this matter, which makes
+our game doubly safe and secure. In order to explain this complication
+thoroughly, I must ask you to let me put you through a kind of
+catechism. Have I your permission, Miss Brewer?"
+
+"You may ask me any questions you please," returned Miss Brewer, in a
+hard, cold, even voice; "and I will answer them as truthfully as I
+can."
+
+"Do you know anything of Douglas Dale's family connections and
+antecedents?"
+
+"I know that his mother was Sir Oswald Eversleigh's sister, and that he
+and Lionel Dale, who was drowned on St. Stephen's day, were left large
+incomes by their uncle, in addition to some inconsiderable family
+property which they inherited from their father, Mr. Melville Dale, who
+was a lawyer, and, I believe, a not very successful one."
+
+"Did you ever hear anything of the family history of this Mr. Melville
+Dale, the father of Lionel and Douglas?"
+
+"I never heard more than his name, and the circumstance I have already
+mentioned."
+
+"Listen, then. Melville Dale had a sister, towards whom their father
+conceived undue and unjust partiality (according to the popular
+version) from their earliest childhood. This sister, Henrietta Dale,
+married, when very young, a country baronet of good fortune, one Sir
+George Verner, and thereby still further pleased her father, and
+secured his favour. Melville Dale, on the contrary, opposed the old
+gentleman in everything, and ultimately crowned the edifice of his
+offences by publishing a deistical treatise, which made a considerable
+sensation at the time of its appearance, and caused the author's
+expulsion from Balliol, where he had already attained a bad eminence by
+numerous escapades of the Shelley order. This proceeding so incensed
+his father that he made a will, in the heat of his anger, by which he
+disinherited Melville Dale, and left the whole of his fortune to his
+daughter, Lady Verner. If he repented this summary and vindictive
+proceeding, neither I nor any one else can tell. The disinherited son
+reformed his life very soon after the breach between himself and his
+father, and was lucky enough to win the affections of Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh's sister. But he was too proud to ask for his father's
+forgiveness, and the father died a year after Douglas Dale's birth--
+never having seen Mrs. Dale or his grandchildren. At the time of her
+father's death, Lady Verner had no children, and she was, I believe,
+disposed to treat her brother very generously; but he was an obstinate,
+headstrong man, and persisted in believing that she had purposely done
+him injury with his father. He would not see her. He refused to accept
+any favour at her hands, and a complete estrangement took place. The
+brother and sister never met again; and it was only through the medium
+of the newspapers that Lionel and Douglas Dale learned, some time after
+their father's death (Melville Dale died young), that severe affliction
+had befallen their aunt, Lady Verner. The bitter and deadly breach
+between father and son, and between brother and sister, was destined
+never to be healed. Lionel and Douglas grew up knowing nothing of their
+father's family, but treated always with persistent kindness by their
+uncle, Sir Oswald Eversleigh, who insisted upon their making Raynham
+Castle a second home."
+
+"Their cousin Reginald must have liked _that_, I fancy," remarked Miss
+Brewer, in her coldest tone.
+
+"He _did_, as you suppose," said Carrington; "he hated the Dales, and I
+fancy they had but little intimacy with him. He was early taken up by
+Sir Oswald, and acknowledged and treated as his heir. You know, of
+course, how all that came to grief, and how Sir Oswald married a
+nobody, and left her the bulk of his fortune?"
+
+"Yes, I have heard all that," said Miss Brewer. "Sir Reginald did not
+spare us the details of the injustice Sir Oswald had done him, or the
+expression of his feelings regarding it. Sir Reginald is the most
+egotistical man I know."
+
+"Well, then, as you are in possession of the family relations so far,
+let me return to Lady Verner, of whom her nephews knew nothing during
+their father's lifetime. She had lost her husband shortly after the
+birth of her only child, and continued to live at Naples, whither Sir
+George had been taken, in the vain hope of prolonging his life. A short
+time after Sir George Verner's death, and while his child was almost an
+infant, Lady Verner's villa was robbed, and the little girl, with her
+nurse, disappeared. The general theory was, that the nurse had connived
+at the robbery, and gone off with the thieves; and being, after the
+fashion of Italian nurses, extraordinarily fond of the child, had
+refused to be parted from her. Be that as it may, the nurse and child
+were never heard of again, and though the case was put into the hands
+of the cleverest of the police, in Paris and London, no discovery has
+ever been made. Lady Verner fell into a state of hopeless melancholy,
+in which she continued for many years, and during that period, of
+course, her wealth accumulated, and is now very great indeed. I see by
+your face, Miss Brewer, that you are growing impatient, and are
+disposed to wonder what the family history of the Dales, and the
+troubles of Lady Verner, have to do with Paulina Durski and our designs
+for her future. Bear with my explanation a little longer, and you will
+perceive the importance of the connection between them."
+
+Miss Brewer gave her shoulders a slight shrug, expressive of supreme
+resignation, and Victor continued.
+
+"Lady Verner has now recovered, under the influence of time and medical
+skill, and has come to London with the avowed purpose of arranging the
+affairs of her large property. She has heard of Lionel Dale's death,
+and, therefore, knows that there is a candidate the less in the field.
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh has obtained access to this lady, and he has
+carefully nipped in the bud certain symptoms of interest which she
+betrayed in the fate of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's widow and orphan
+daughter. Lady Verner is an exceedingly proud woman, and you may
+suppose her maternal instincts are powerful, when the loss of her child
+caused her years of melancholy madness. My gifted friend speedily
+discovered these characteristics, and practised on them. Lady Verner
+was made aware that the widow of Sir Oswald Eversleigh was a person of
+low origin, and dubious reputation, and cared so little for her child
+that she had gone abroad, for an indefinite time, leaving the little
+girl at Raynham, in the care of servants. The result of this
+representation was, that Lady Verner felt and expressed extreme
+disgust, and considerable satisfaction that she had not committed
+herself to a course from which she must have receded, by opening any
+communication with Lady Eversleigh. One danger thus disposed of--and I
+must say I think Reginald did it well--he was very enthusiastic, he
+tells me, on the virtues of his uncle, and his inextinguishable regret
+for that benefactor of his youth."
+
+Miss Brewer's cold smile, and glittering, baleful eye, attracted
+Carrington's attention at this point.
+
+"That shocks you, does it, Miss Brewer?" he asked.
+
+"Shock me? Oh no! It rather interests me; there's an eminence of
+baseness in it."
+
+"So there is," said Carrington, with pleased assent, "especially to one
+who knows, as I do, how Reginald hated his uncle, living-how he hates
+his memory, dead. However, he did this, and did it well; but it was
+only half his task. Lady Verner would keep herself clear of Lady
+Eversleigh, but she must be kept clear of Douglas Dale."
+
+"Ha!" said Miss Brewer, with a slight change of attitude and
+expression, "I see now; she must be turned against him by means of
+Paulina--poor Paulina! She says she is fatal to him; she says he ought
+to fly from her. This looks still more like her being right."
+
+"It does, indeed, Miss Brewer," said Carrington, gravely. "You are
+right. It was by means of Madame Durski that the trick was done; but
+neither you nor I--and I assure you I like your friend immensely--can
+afford to take objection to the manner of doing it. Lady Verner was
+made to understand that by extending her countenance to, or enriching
+Douglas Dale, she would only be giving additional security and _eclat_
+to a marriage scarcely less disgraceful than that which Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh had contracted. The device has been successful, so far. And
+now comes the third portion of Sir Reginald's game--the substitution of
+himself in Lady Verner's good graces for the nephew he has ousted. This
+is only fair, after all. Dale cut him out with his uncle--he means to
+cut Dale out with his aunt. You understand our programme now, Miss
+Brewer, don't you?"
+
+"Yes," she replied, slowly, "but I don't see why I should lend him any
+assistance. It would be more to my interest that Douglas Dale should
+inherit this lady's fortune; the richer Paulina's husband is, the
+better for me."
+
+"Unquestionably, my dear Miss Brewer," said Carrington. "But Dale will
+not marry Paulina if Sir Reginald Eversleigh chooses to prevent it; and
+Douglas Dale will not give you five hundred pounds for any services
+whatever, because there are none which you can render him. I think you
+can see that pretty plainly, Miss Brewer. And you can also see, I
+presume, that, provided _I_ get _my_ money from Eversleigh, it is a
+manner of total indifference to me whether he gets _Lady Verner's_
+money, or whether Dale gets it. The only means by which I can get my
+money is by detaching Sir Reginald from Paulina, and making him marry
+the ironmonger's heiress. When that is done, and the money is paid, I
+am perfectly satisfied that Dale should get the fortune, and I think it
+very likely he will; but you must perceive that I cannot play my own
+game except by appearing to play Reginald's."
+
+"Is Lady Verner likely to think the ironmonger's heiress a good match
+for Sir Reginald Eversleigh?" Miss Brewer asked, in a coldly sarcastic
+tone.
+
+"How is she to know anything of her origin?" returned Carrington, who
+was, however, disconcerted by the question. "She lives a most retired
+life; no one but Reginald has any access to her, and he can make her
+believe anything he likes."
+
+"That's fortunate," said Miss Brewer, drily; "pray proceed."
+
+"Well, then, you see these points as clearly as I do--the next thing to
+be done is to secure Paulina's marriage with Douglas Dale."
+
+"I don't think that needs much securing," said Miss Brewer. "Judging
+from his manner before he left town, and from the tone of his letter, I
+should think very little encouragement from her would ensure a proposal
+of marriage from him."
+
+"And will she give him that encouragement?"
+
+"Undoubtedly--I fully believe she will marry Douglas Dale. She has
+certainly learned to despise Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and I think Mr.
+Dale has caught her heart in the rebound."
+
+"Have you attended to my instructions about impressing her money
+difficulties on her mind--have you made things as bad as possible?"
+
+"Certainly," answered Miss Brewer. "Only this morning I have sent into
+her room several pressing and impertinent letters from her
+tradespeople, and I put some accounts of the most dispiriting character
+before her last night. She is in dreadfully low spirits."
+
+"So much the better! If we can but induce her to borrow money from
+Dale, all will be well; he will take that as a convincing proof of
+regard and confidence, and will propose to her at once. I am sure of
+it. So sure, that I will pass that matter by, and take it for granted.
+And now--if this comes to pass, and Douglas Dale is here as the
+accepted lover of Paulina, I must have constant access to the house,
+and he must not know me as Victor Carrington. He has never seen me,
+though I am familiar with his appearance."
+
+"Why?" asked Miss Brewer, in a tone of suspicious surprise.
+
+"I will tell you, by-and-by. Suffice it for the present that it must be
+so. Then again, it would not do to have a man, who is not a relative,
+established _l'ami de la maison_. That it is not the sort of thing that
+an affianced lover could be expected to like. You must introduce me to
+Douglas Dale as your cousin, and by the name of Carton. It is
+sufficiently like my real name to prevent the servants knowing my name
+is changed, since they always bungle over the 'Carrington.' As Victor
+Carrington, Dale might refuse to know me, and certainly would not form
+any intimacy with me, and that he should form an intimacy with me is
+essential to my purpose."
+
+"Why?" said Miss Brewer, in exactly the same tone as before.
+
+"I will tell you by-and-by," said Carrington. "You consent, do you
+not?"
+
+"I am not sure," she answered. "But, even supposing I do consent, there
+is Paulina to be consulted. How is she to be induced to call you Mr.
+Carton and my cousin?"
+
+"I will undertake to persuade Madame Durski that it will be for her
+best interests to consent," said Carrington. "And now to my
+explanation. Reginald Eversleigh is a man who is not to be trusted for
+a moment, even where his own interests are closely concerned. He cares
+nothing for Paulina; he knows the best thing that can happen to him
+would be her marriage with Dale, for he calculates upon his hold over
+the wife giving him the chance of a good share of the husband's money
+in some way. Yet, such is his vanity, so unmanageable is his temper,
+that if he were not too much afraid of me, too much in my power, he
+would indulge them both at the cost of destroying our plan. If he knew
+me to be absent, or unable to present myself freely here, he would
+persecute Paulina--she would never be free from him. He would
+compromise his own chance with the heiress, which is, naturally, my
+chief consideration, and compromise her with Douglas Dale. Again, I do
+not mind admitting to you, Miss Brewer, that I am of a cautious and
+suspicious temperament; and when I pay an agent liberally, as I intend
+to pay you, I always like to see for myself how the work is done."
+
+"That argument, at least, is unanswerable," she replied. "You shall, so
+far as I can answer for it, pass as my cousin and Mr. Carton, and have
+a free _entre_ here."
+
+"Good," said Carrington, rising. "And now there is nothing more to be
+said just at present."
+
+"Pardon me; you have not told me why an intimacy with Mr. Dale is
+essential to your purpose."
+
+"Because I must watch his proceedings and intentions--in fact, know all
+about him--in order to discover whether it will suit my interests best
+to forward Eversleigh's plans with respect to Lady Verner, or to betray
+them to Dale."
+
+Miss Brewer looked at him with something like admiration. She thought
+she understood him so perfectly now, that she need ask nothing farther.
+So they parted with the understanding that she was to report fully on
+Douglas Dale's visit, and Carrington was to call on Paulina on the day
+succeeding it. When she was alone, Miss Brewer remembered that
+Carrington had not explained why it was he felt certain Dale would not
+form any intimacy with him as Victor Carrington. As he walked
+homewards, Victor muttered to himself--
+
+"Heavens, what a clever fool that woman is. Once more I have won, and
+by boldness."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The feelings with which Douglas Dale prepared for his visit to Hilton
+House on the day following that on which Victor Carrington had made
+his full and candid explanation to Miss Brewer, were such as any
+woman--the purest, the noblest, the best--might have been proud of
+inspiring. They were full of love, trust, pity, and hope. Douglas Dale
+had by no means ceased to feel his brother's loss. No, the death of
+Lionel, and, even more, the terrible manner of that death, still
+pursued him in every waking hour--still haunted him in his dreams; but
+sorrow, and especially its isolating tendency, does but quicken and
+intensify feelings of tenderness in true and noble hearts.
+
+He drove up to Hilton House with glad expectancy, and his eyes were dim
+as he was ushered into the drawing-room in which Paulina sat.
+
+Madame Durski's emotions on this occasion were unspeakably painful. So
+well had Miss Brewer played her part, that she had persuaded Paulina
+her only chance of escape from immediate arrest lay in borrowing money,
+that very day, from Douglas Dale. Paulina's pride revolted; but the
+need was pressing, and the unhappy woman yielded.
+
+As she rose to return her visitor's greeting, and stood before him in
+the cold January sunset, she was indeed, in all outward seeming, worthy
+of any man's admiration.
+
+Remorse and suffering had paled her cheeks; but they had left no
+disfiguring traces on her perfect face.
+
+The ivory whiteness of her complexion was, perhaps, her greatest charm,
+and her beauty would scarcely have been enhanced by those rosy tints
+so necessary to some faces.
+
+To-day she had dressed herself to perfection, fully conscious of the
+influence which a woman's costume is apt to exercise over the heart of
+the man who loves her.
+
+Half an hour passed in conversation of a general nature, and then
+luncheon was announced. When Paulina and her visitor returned to the
+dreary room, they were alone; Miss Brewer had discreetly retired.
+
+"My dear Madame Durski!" exclaimed Douglas, when the widow had seated
+herself and he had placed himself opposite to her, "I cannot tell you
+what intense pleasure it gives me to see you again, and most of all
+because it leads me to believe that I can in some manner serve you. I
+know how secluded your habits have been of late, and I fancy you would
+scarcely so depart from them in my favour if you had not some real need
+of my service."
+
+This speech was peculiarly adapted to smoothe away the difficulties of
+Paulina's position. Douglas had long guessed the secret of her poverty,
+and had more than half divined the motive of her letter. He was eager
+to save her, as far as possible, from the painfulness of the request
+which he felt almost sure she was about to make to him.
+
+"Your cordial kindness affects me deeply, Mr. Dale," said Paulina, with
+a blush that was the glow of real shame. "You are right; I should be
+the last woman in the world to appeal to you thus if I had not need of
+your help--bitter need. I appeal to you, because I know the goodness
+and generosity of your nature. I appeal to you as a beggar."
+
+"Madame Durski, for pity's sake, do not speak thus," cried Douglas,
+interrupting her. "Every penny that I possess in the world is at your
+command. I am ready to begin life again, a worker for my daily bread,
+rather than that you should suffer one hour's pain, one moment's
+humiliation, that money can prevent."
+
+"You are too generous, too noble," exclaimed Paulina, in a broken
+voice. "The only way in which I can prove my gratitude for your
+delicate goodness is by being perfectly candid. My life has been a
+strange one, Mr. Dale--a life of apparent prosperity, but of real
+poverty. Before I was old enough to know the value of a fortune, I was
+robbed of that which should have been mine, and robbed by the father
+who should have protected my interests. From that hour I have known
+little except trouble. I was married to a man whom I never loved--
+married at the command of the father who had robbed me. If I have not
+fallen, as many other women so mated have fallen, I take no pride in my
+superior strength of mind. It may be that temptation such as lures
+other women to their ruin never approached me. Since my husband died,
+my life, as you too well know, has been a degraded one. I have been the
+companion and friend of gamesters. It is, indeed, only since I came to
+England that I have myself ceased to be a gambler. Can you remember all
+this, Mr. Dale, and yet pity me?"
+
+"I can remember it all, and yet love you, Paulina," answered Douglas,
+with emotion. "We are not masters of our own affections. From the hour
+in which I first saw you I have loved you--loved you in spite of
+myself. I will admit that your life has not been that which I would
+have chosen for the woman I love; and that to remember your past
+history is pain to me. But, in spite of all, I ask you to be my wife;
+and it shall be the business of my future life to banish from your
+remembrance every sorrow and every humiliation that you have suffered
+in the past. Say that you will be my wife, Paulina. I love you as few
+women are loved. I am rich, and have the power to remove you far from
+every association that is painful to you. Tell me that I may be the
+guardian of your future existence."
+
+Paulina contemplated her lover for a few moments with singular
+earnestness. She was deeply impressed by his generous devotion, and she
+could not but compare this self-sacrificing love with the base
+selfishness of Reginald Eversleigh's conduct.
+
+"You do not ask me if I can return your affection," she said, after
+that earnest look. "You offer to raise me from degradation and poverty,
+and you demand nothing in return."
+
+"No, Paulina," replied Douglas; "I would not make a _bargain_ with the
+woman I love. I know that you have not yet learned to love me, and yet
+I do not fear for the future, if you consent to become my wife. True
+love, such as mine, rarely fails to win its reward, sooner or later. I
+am content to wait. It will be sufficient happiness to me to know that
+I have rescued you from a miserable and degrading position."
+
+"You are only too generous," murmured Paulina, softly; "only too
+generous."
+
+"And now tell me the immediate object of this most welcome summons. I
+will not press you for a prompt reply to my suit; I will trust that
+time may be my friend. Tell me how I can serve you, and why you sent
+for me to-day?"
+
+"I sent for you that I might ask you for the loan of two hundred
+pounds, to satisfy the claims of my most urgent creditors, and to
+prevent the necessity of an ignominious flight."
+
+"I will write you a cheque immediately for five hundred," said Douglas.
+"You can drive to my banker's, and get it cashed there. Or stay; it
+would not be so well for my banker to know that I lent you money. Let
+me come again to you this evening, and bring ink sum in bank-notes.
+That will give me an excuse for coming."
+
+"How can I ever thank you sufficiently?"
+
+"Do not thank me at all. Only let me love you, looking forward
+hopefully to the day in-which you may learn to love me." "That day must
+surely come ere long," replied Paulina, thoughtfully. "Gratitude so
+profound as mine, esteem so sincere, must needs grow into a warmer
+feeling."
+
+"Yes, Paulina," said Douglas, "if your heart is free. Forgive me if I
+approach a subject painful to you and to me. Reginald Eversleigh--my
+cousin--have you seen him often lately?"
+
+"I have not seen him since he left London for Hallgrove. I am not
+likely to see him again."
+
+"I am very glad of that. There is but one fear in my mind when I think
+of our future, Paulina."
+
+"And that is?"
+
+"The fear that Reginald Eversleigh may come between you and me."
+
+"You need no longer fear that," replied Madame Durski. "You have been
+so noble, so devoted in your conduct to me, that I must be indeed a
+worthless wretch if I shrink from the painful duty of laying my heart
+bare before you. I have loved your cousin Reginald, foolishly, blindly;
+but there must come an end to all folly; there must come a day when the
+bandage falls from the eyes that have obstinately shunned the light.
+That day has come for me; and Sir Reginald Eversleigh is henceforward
+nothing more to me than the veriest stranger."
+
+"A thousand thanks, dearest, for that assurance," exclaimed Douglas;
+"and now trust in me. Tour future shall be so bright and happy that the
+past will seem to you no more than a troubled dream."
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+
+                          PREPARING THE GROUND.
+
+Black Milsom made his appearance in the little village of Raynham
+immediately after Lady Eversleigh's departure from the castle. But on
+this occasion it would have been very difficult for those who had seen
+him at the date of Sir Oswald Eversleigh's funeral to recognize, in the
+respectable-looking, well-dressed citizen of to-day, the ragged tramp
+of that period.
+
+While Honoria Eversleigh was living under a false name in Percy Street,
+Tottenham Court Road, the man who called himself her father,
+established himself in a little river-side public-house, under the
+shadow of Raynham Castle. The house in question had never borne too
+good a character; and its reputation was in nowise improved when, on
+the death of its owner, it passed into the custody of Mr. Milsom, who
+came down to Raynham one November morning, almost immediately after
+Lady Eversleigh's departure, saw the "Cat and Fiddle" public-house
+vacant, and went straight to the attorney who had the letting of it, to
+offer himself as a tenant, announcing himself to the lawyer as Thomas
+Maunders.
+
+The attorney at first looked rather suspiciously at the gentleman who
+had earned for himself the ominous nickname of Black Milsom; but when
+the would-be tenant offered to pay a year's rent in advance down on the
+nail, the man of law melted, and took the money.
+
+Thomas Milsom lost no time in taking possession of his new abode. It
+was the haunt of the lower class of agricultural labourers, and of the
+bargemen, who moored their barges sometimes beneath the shadow of
+Raynham Bridge, while they dawdled away a few lazy hours in the village
+public-house.
+
+Any one who had cared to study Mr. Milsom's face and manners during his
+residence at Raynham, would have speedily perceived that the life did
+not suit him. He lounged at the door of the low-gabled cottage, looking
+out into the village street with a moody and sullen countenance.
+
+He drank a great deal, and swore not a little, and led altogether as
+dissolute a life as it was possible to lead in that peaceful village.
+
+No sooner had Mr. Milsom established himself at Raynham, than he made
+it his business to find out the exact state of affairs at the castle.
+He contrived to entice one of the under-servants into his bar-parlour,
+and entertained the man so liberally, with a smoking jorum of strong
+rum-punch, that a friendly acquaintance was established between the two
+on the spot.
+
+"There's nothing in my place you ain't welcome to, James Harwood," he
+said. "You're uncommonly like a favourite brother of mine that died
+young of the measles; and I've taken a fancy to you on account of that
+likeness. Come when you like, and as often as you like, and call for
+what you like; and there shan't be no talk of scores between you and
+me. I'm a bitter foe, and a firm friend. When I like a man there's
+nothing I couldn't do to prove my liking; when I hate him--"
+
+Here Mr. Milsom's speech died away into an ominous growl; and James
+Harwood, who was rather a timid young man, felt as if drops of cold
+water had been running down his back. But the rum-punch was very nice;
+and he saw no reason why he should refuse Mr. Milsom's offer of
+friendship.
+
+He did drop in very often, having plenty of leisure evenings in which
+to amuse himself; and through him Thomas Milsom was enabled to become
+familiar with every detail of the household at Raynham Castle.
+
+"No news of your lady, I suppose, Mr. Harwood?" Milsom said to him one
+Sunday evening in January. "Not coming home yet, I suppose?"
+
+"No, Mr. Maunders," answered the groom; "not to my knowledge. And as to
+news, there ain't anymore news of her than if she and Miss Payland had
+gone off to the very wildest part of Africa, where, if you feel
+lonesome, and want company, your only choice lies between tigers and
+rattlesnakes."
+
+"Never mind Africa! What was it that you were going to say about your
+lady?"
+
+"Well, I was about to inform you," replied the groom, with offended
+dignity, "when you took me up so uncommon short as to prevent me--I was
+about to observe that, although we haven't received no news whatsoever
+from my lady direct, we have received a little bit of news promiscuous
+that is rather puzzling, in a manner of speaking."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Well, you see, Mr. Maunders," began James Harwood, with extreme
+solemnity, "it is given out that Lady Eversleigh is gone abroad to the
+Continent--wherever that place may be situated--and a very nice place
+I dare say it is, when you get there; and it is likewise given out that
+Miss Payland have gone with her."
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"I really wish you hadn't such a habit of taking people up short, Mr.
+Maunders," remonstrated the groom. "I was on the point of telling you
+that our head-coachman had a holiday this Christmas; and where does he
+go but up to London, to see his friends, which live there; and while in
+London where does he go but to Drury Lane Theatre; and while coming out
+of Drury Lane Theatre who does he set his eyes on but Miss Payland,
+Lady Eversleigh's own maid, as large as life, and hanging on the arm of
+a respectable elderly man, which might be her father. Our head-coachman
+warn't near enough to her to speak to her; and though he tried to catch
+her eye he couldn't catch it; but he'll take his Bible oath that the
+young woman he saw was Jane Payland, Lady Eversleigh's own maid. Now,
+that's rather a curious circumstance, is it not, Mr. Maunders?"
+
+"It is, rather," answered the landlord; "but it seems to me your
+mistress, Lady Eversleigh, is rather a strange person altogether. It's
+a strange thing for a mother to run away to foreign parts--if she has
+gone to foreign parts--and leave her only child behind her."
+
+"Yes; and a child she was so fond of too; that's the strangest part of
+the whole business," said the groom. "I'm sure to see that mother and
+child together, you'd have thought there was no power on earth would
+part them; and yet, all of a sudden, my lady goes off, and leaves Miss
+Gertrude behind her. But if Miss Gertrude was a royal princess, she
+couldn't be more watched over, or taken more care of, than she is. To
+see Mrs. Morden, the governess, with her, you'd think as the little
+girl was made of barley-sugar, and would melt away with a drop of rain;
+and to see Captain Copplestone with her, you'd think as she was the
+crown-jewels of England, and that everybody was on the watch to get the
+chance of stealing her."
+
+Black Milsom smiled as the groom said this. It was a grim smile, not by
+any means pleasant to see; but James Harwood was not an observer, and
+he was looking tenderly at his last spoonful of rum-punch, and
+wondering within himself whether Mr. Milsom was likely to offer him
+another glass of that delicious beverage.
+
+"And pray what sort of a customer is Captain Copplestone?" asked
+Milsom, thoughtfully.
+
+"An uncommonly tough customer," replied James Harwood; "that's what he
+is. If it wasn't for his rheumatic gout, he's a man that would be ready
+to fight the champion of England any day in the week. There's very few
+things the captain wouldn't do in the way of downright pluck; but, you
+see, whatever pluck a man may have, it can't help him much when he's
+laid by the heels with the rheumatic gout, as the captain is very
+often."
+
+"Ha! and who takes care of little missy then?"
+
+"Why, the captain. He's like a watch-dog, and his kennel is at little
+missy's door. That's what he says himself, in his queer way. Miss
+Gertrude and her governess live in three handsome rooms in the south
+wing--my lady's own rooms--and the principal way to these rooms is
+along a wide corridor. So what does the captain do when my lady goes
+away, but order a great iron door down from London, and has the
+corridor shut off with this iron door, bolted, and locked, and barred,
+so that the cleverest burglar that ever were couldn't get it open."
+
+"But how do people get to the little girl's rooms, then?" asked Thomas
+Milsom.
+
+"Why, through a small bed-room, intended for Lady Eversleigh's maid;
+and a little bit of a dressing-room, that poor Sir Oswald used to keep
+his boots, and hat-boxes, and such like in. These rooms open on to the
+second staircase; and what does the captain do but have these two small
+rooms fitted up for hisself and his servant, Solomon Grundy, with a
+thin wooden partition, with little glass spy-holes in it, put across
+the two rooms, to make a kind of passage to the rooms beyond; so that
+night and day he can hear every footstep that goes by to Miss
+Gertrude's rooms. Now, what do you think of such whims and fancies?"
+
+"I think the captain must be stark staring mad," answered Milsom; but
+it was to be observed that he said this in rather an absent manner, and
+appeared to be thinking deeply.
+
+"Oh no, he ain't," said James Harwood; "there ain't a sharper customer
+going."
+
+And then, finding that the landlord of the "Cat and Fiddle" did not
+offer anything more in the way of refreshment, Mr. Harwood departed.
+
+There was a full moon that January night, and when Mr. Milsom had
+attended to the wants of his customers, seen the last of them to the
+door a little before twelve o'clock, shut his shutters, and
+extinguished the lights, he stole quietly out of his house, went forth
+into the deserted street, and made his way towards the summit of the
+hill on which the castle stood, like an ancient fortress, frowning
+darkly upon the humble habitations beneath it.
+
+He passed the archway and the noble gothic gates, and crept along by
+the fine old wall that enclosed the park, where the interlaced
+branches of giant oaks and beeches were white under the snow that had
+fallen upon them, and formed a picture that was almost like a scene in
+Fairyland.
+
+He climbed the wall at a spot where a thick curtain of ivy afforded him
+a safe footing, and dropped softly upon the ground beneath, where the
+snow had drifted into a heap, and made a soft bed for him to fall on.
+
+"There will be more snow before daylight to-morrow," he muttered to
+himself, "if I'm any judge of the weather; and there'll be no trace of
+my footsteps to give the hint of mischief." He ran across the park,
+leaped the light, invisible fence dividing the park from the gardens,
+and crept cautiously along a shrubberied pathway, where the evergreens
+afforded him an impenetrable screen.
+
+Thus concealed from the eyes of any chance watcher, he contrived to
+approach one end of the terraced slope which formed the garden front of
+the castle. Each terrace was adorned with stone balustrades, surmounted
+by large vases, also of stone; and, sheltered by these vases, Milsom
+ascended to the southern angle of the great pile of building.
+
+Seven lighted windows at this southern end of the castle indicated the
+apartments occupied by the heiress of Raynham and her eccentric
+guardian. The lights burned but dimly, like the night-lamps left
+burning during the hours of rest; and Milsom had ascertained from Mr.
+Harwood that the household retired before eleven o'clock, at the
+latest.
+
+The apartments occupied by the little girl were on the first floor. The
+massive stone walls here were unadorned with ivy, nor were there any of
+those elaborate decorations in stonework which might have afforded a
+hold for the foot of the climber. The bare stone wall frowned down upon
+Thomas Milsom, impregnable as the walls of Newgate itself.
+
+"No," he muttered to himself, after a long and thoughtful scrutiny; "no
+man will ever get at those rooms from the outside; no, not if he had
+the power of changing himself into a cat or a monkey. Whoever wants to
+have a peep at the heiress of Raynham must go through this valiant
+captain's chamber. Well, well, I've heard of tricks played upon
+faithful watch-dogs before to-day. There's very few things a man can't
+do, if he only tries hard enough; and I mean to be revenged upon my
+Lady Eversleigh!" He paused for a few moments, standing close against
+the wall of the castle, sheltered by its black shadow, and looking down
+upon the broad domain beneath.
+
+"And this is all hers, is it P--lands and houses; horses and carriages;
+powdered footmen to fetch and carry for her; jewels to wear; plates and
+dishes of solid gold to eat her dinner off, if she likes! All hers! And
+she refuses me a few hundred pounds, and defies me, does she? We'll see
+whether that's a safe game. I've sworn to have my revenge, and I'll
+have it," he muttered, shaking his brawny fist, as if some phantom
+figure were standing before him in the wintry moonlight. "I can afford
+to wait; I wouldn't mind waiting years to get it; but I'll have it, if
+I grow old and gray while I'm watching and plotting for it. I'll be
+patient as Time, but I'll have it. She has refused me a few hundreds,
+has she? I'll see her there, on the ground at my feet, grovelling like
+a beaten dog, offering me half her fortune--all her fortune--her very
+life itself! I'll humble her proud spirit! I'll bring her grandeur down
+to the the dust. She won't own me for a father, won't she! Why, if I
+choose, she shall tramp barefoot through the mud after me, singing
+street-ballads in every town in England, and going round with my
+battered old hat to beg for halfpence afterwards. I'll humble her! I'll
+do it--I'll do it--as sure as there's a moon in the sky!"
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+
+                                AT WATCH.
+
+Sanguine as Victor Carrington had been, confidently as he had
+calculated upon the fascination which Paulina had exerted over Douglas
+Dale, he was not prepared for the news contained in Miss Brewer's
+promised letter, which reached him punctually, a few hours after
+Paulina had become the affianced wife of Douglas Dale. This was indeed
+success beyond his hopes. He had not expected this result for some
+days, at the very earliest, and the surprise and pleasure with which he
+learned it were almost equal. Carrington did not believe in good; he
+absolutely distrusted and despised human nature, and he never dreamed
+of imputing Madame Durski's conduct to anything but coquetry and
+fickleness. "She's on with the new love, beyond a doubt," said he to
+himself, as he read Miss Brewer's letter; "whether she's off with the
+old is quite another question, and rests with him rather than with her,
+I fancy."
+
+Victor Carrington's first move was to present himself before Madame
+Durski on the following day, at the hour at which she habitually
+received visitors. He took up the confidential conversation which they
+had had on the last occasion of their meeting, as if it had not been
+dropped in the interval, and came at once to the subject of Douglas
+Dale. This plan answered admirably; Paulina was naturally full of the
+subject, and the ice of formalism had been sufficiently broken between
+her and Victor Carrington, to enable her to refer to the interview
+which had taken place between herself and Douglas Dale without any
+impropriety. When she had done so, Carrington began to play his part.
+He assured Paulina of his warm interest in her, of the influence which
+he possessed over Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and the fears which he
+entertained of some treacherous proceeding on Reginald's part which
+might place her in a most unpleasant position.
+
+"Reginald has no real love for you," said Carrington; "he would not
+hesitate to sacrifice you to the meanest of his interests, but his
+vanity and his temper are such that it is impossible to calculate upon
+what sort of folly he may be guilty."
+
+Paulina Durski was a thorough woman; and, therefore, having utterly
+discarded Reginald from her heart, having learned to substitute utter
+contempt for love, she was not averse to receiving any information, to
+learning any opinion, which tended to justify her change of feeling.
+
+"What harm can he do me with Douglas?" asked Paulina, in alarm.
+
+"Who can tell that, Madame Durski?" replied Carrington. "But this is
+not to the purpose. I don't pretend to be wholly disinterested in this
+matter. I tell you plainly I am not so; it is very important to me that
+Sir Reginald should marry a woman of fortune, and should not marry
+you."
+
+"He never had any intention of marrying me," said Paulina, hastily and
+bitterly.
+
+"No, I don't believe he had; but he would have liked very well to have
+compromised you in the eyes of society, so that no other man would have
+married you, to have bragged of relations existing between you which
+never did exist, and to have effectually ruined your fortunes in any
+other direction than the gaming-table. Now this I am determined he
+shall not do, and as I have more power over him than any one else, it
+lies with me to prevent it. What that power springs from, or how I have
+hitherto exercised it, you need not inquire, Madame Durski; I only wish
+you to believe that I exercise it in this instance for your good, for
+your protection."
+
+Paulina murmured some vague words of acknowledgment. He continued--
+
+"If Reginald Eversleigh knows I am here, constantly cognizant of the
+state of affairs, and prepared to act for your advantage, he will not
+dare to come here and compromise you by his violent and unreasonable
+jealousy; he will be forced--it is needless to explain how--to keep his
+envy and rage to himself, and to suppress the enmity with which he
+regards Douglas Dale. Let me tell you, Madame Durski, Reginald's enmity
+is no trifling rock ahead in life, and your engaged lover has that rock
+to dread."
+
+Paulina turned very pale.
+
+"Save him from it, Mr. Carrington," she said, appealingly. "Save him
+from it, and let me have a little happiness in this weary world, if
+such a thing there be."
+
+"I will, Madame Durski," replied Victor. "You have already done as I
+have counselled you, and you have no reason to regret the result."
+
+The soft, dreamy smile of happy love stole over Paulina's face as she
+listened to him.
+
+"Let me be here with you as much as possible, and you will have no
+reason to fear Reginald. He is capable of anything, but he is afraid of
+me, and if he knows that I am determined to advance the marriage of
+yourself and Douglas Dale, he will not venture to oppose it openly. But
+there is one condition which I must append to my frequent presence
+here"--he spoke as though he were conferring the greatest favour on
+her--"Mr. Dale must not know me as Victor Carrington."
+
+With an expression in which there was something of the suspicious
+quickness which Miss Brewer had manifested when Carrington made a
+similar statement to her, Paulina asked him why.
+
+Then Victor told her his version of the story of Honoria Eversleigh,
+the "unfortunate woman," whom Douglas Dale's unhappy and misguided
+uncle had raised to such undoubted rank and fortune, and the wild and
+absurd accusations the wretched woman had made against him.
+
+"Mr. Dale never saw me," said Victor, "and I know not whether he was
+thoroughly aware of the absurdity, the insanity of this woman's
+accusations. At all events, I don't wish to recall any unpleasantness
+to his mind, and therefore I venture to propose that I should visit
+here, and be introduced to him as Mr. Carton. The fraud is a very
+harmless one; what do you say, Madame Durski?"
+
+Paulina had her full share of the feminine love of mystery and
+intrigue, and she consented at once. "What can the name matter," she
+thought, "if it is really necessary for this man to be here?"
+
+"And there is another consideration which we must take into account,"
+said Victor; "it is this. Mr. Dale may not like to find any man
+established here, in the degree of intimacy to which (in your
+interests) I aspire; and therefore I propose, with your leave, to pass
+as a relation of Miss Brewer's--say, her cousin. This will thoroughly
+account for my intimacy here. What do you say, Madame Durski?"
+
+"As you please," said Paulina, carelessly. "I am sure you are right,
+Mr. Carrington--Carton, I mean, and I am sure you mean kindly and well
+by me. But how odd it will seem to Charlotte and me, lonely creatures,
+waifs and derelicts as we have been so long, to have any one with whom
+we can claim even a pretended kinship!"
+
+She spoke with a mingled bitterness and levity which have been painful
+to any man of right feelings, but which was pleasant to Victor
+Carrington, because it showed him how helpless and ignorant she was,
+how her mind had been warped, how ready a tool he had found in her.
+When the interview between them came to an end, it had been arranged
+that Mr. Dale was to be introduced on the following day at Hilton House
+to Miss Brewer's cousin, Mr. Carton.
+
+The introduction took place. A very short time, well employed in close
+observation, sufficed to assure Victor that Douglas Dale was as much in
+love as any man need be to be certain of committing any number of
+follies, and that Paulina was a changed woman under the influence of
+the same soul-subduing sentiment which, though not so strong in her
+case, was assuming strength and intensity as each day taught her more
+and more of her lover's moral and intellectual excellence. Douglas Dale
+was much pleased with Mr. Carton; and that gentleman did all in his
+power to render himself agreeable, and so far succeeded that, before
+the close of the evening, he had made a considerable advance towards
+establishing a very pleasant intimacy with Sir Reginald Eversleigh's
+cousin.
+
+Victor Carrington, always an observant man, had peculiarly the air of
+being on the watch that day during dinner. He noticed everything that
+Paulina ate and drank, and he took equal note of Miss Brewer's and
+Douglas Dale's choice of meats and wines. Miss Brewer drank no wine,
+Paulina very little, and Douglas Dale exclusively claret. When the
+dinner had reached its conclusion, a stand of liqueurs was placed upon
+the table, one of the few art-treasures left to the impoverished
+adventuress, rare and fragile Venetian flacons, and tiny goblets of
+opal and ruby glass. These glasses were the especial admiration of
+Douglas Dale, and Paulina filled the ruby goblet with curacoa. She
+touched the edge of the glass playfully with her lips as she handed it
+to her lover; but Victor observed that she did not taste the liqueur.
+
+"You do not affect curacoa, madame?" he asked, carelessly.
+
+"No; I never take that, or indeed, any other liqueur."
+
+"And yet you drink scarcely any wine?"
+
+"No," replied Paulina, indifferently; "I take very little wine."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+There was the faintest possible significance in Carrington's tone as he
+said this. He had watched Madame Durski closely during dinner, and he
+had noted an excitement in her manner, a nervous vivacity, such as are
+generally inspired by something stronger than water. And yet this woman
+had taken little else than water during the dinner. And it was to be
+observed that the almost febrile gaiety which distinguished her manner
+this evening had been as apparent when she first entered the drawing-
+room as it was now. This was a physiological or psychological enigma,
+extremely interesting to Mr. Carrington. He was not slow to find a
+solution that was, in his opinion, sufficiently satisfactory. "That
+woman takes opium in some form or other," he said to himself.
+
+Miss Brewer did not touch the liqueur in question, and her cousin took
+Maraschino. After a very short interval, Douglas Dale and his new
+friend rose to join the ladies. They crossed the hall together, but as
+they reached the drawing-room door, Mr. Carrington discovered that he
+had dropped a letter in the dining-room, and returned to find it, first
+opening the drawing-room door that Dale might pass through it.
+
+All was undisturbed in the dining-room; the table was just as they had
+left it. Victor approached the table, took up the carafon containing
+curacoa, and, holding it up to the light with one hand, poured the
+contents of a small phial into it with the other. He watched the one
+liquid mingling with the other until no further traces of the operation
+were visible; and then setting the carafon softly down where he had
+found it, went smiling across the hall and joined the ladies.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXX.
+
+
+                             FOUND WANTING.
+
+Reginald Eversleigh was in complete ignorance of Victor Carrington's
+proceedings, when he received the letter summoning him to an interview
+with his friend at a stated time. Carrington's estimate of Reginald's
+character was quite correct. All this time his vanity had been chafing
+under Paulina's silence and apparent oblivion of him.
+
+He had not received any letter from Paulina, fond as she had been of
+writing to him long, half-despairing letters, full of complaint against
+destiny, and breathing in every line that hopeless love which the
+beautiful Austrian woman had so long wasted on the egotist and coward,
+whose baseness she had half suspected even while she still clung to
+him.
+
+Sir Reginald had been in the habit of receiving these letters as coolly
+as if they had been but the fitting tribute to his transcendant merits.
+
+"Poor Paulina!" he murmured sometimes, as he folded the perfumed pages,
+after running his eyes carelessly over their contents; "poor Paulina!
+how devotedly she loves me. And what a pity she hasn't a penny she can
+call her own. If she were a great heiress, now, what could be more
+delightful than this devotion? But, under existing circumstances, it is
+nothing but an embarrassment--a bore. Unfortunately, I cannot be brutal
+enough to tell her this plainly: and so matters go on. And I fear, in
+spite of all my hints, she may believe in the possibility of my
+ultimately making a sacrifice of my prospects For her sake."
+
+This was how Reginald Eversleigh felt, while Paulina was scattering at
+his feet the treasures of a disinterested affection.
+
+He had been vain and selfish from boyhood, and his vices grew stronger
+with increasing years. His nature was hardened, and not chastened, by
+the trials and disappointments which had befallen him.
+
+In the hour of his poverty and degradation it had been a triumph for
+him to win the devotion of a woman whom many men--men better than
+himself--had loved in vain.
+
+It was a rich tribute to the graces of him who had once been the
+irresistible Reginald Eversleigh, the favourite of fashionable drawing-
+rooms.
+
+Thus it was that, when Paulina's letters suddenly ceased, Sir Reginald
+was at once mortified and indignant. He had made up his mind to obey
+Victor's suggestion, or rather, command, by abstaining from either
+visiting or writing to Paulina; but he had not been prepared for a
+similar line of proceeding on her part, and it hurt his vanity much.
+She had ceased to write. Could she have ceased to care for him? Could
+any one else, richer--more disinterested--have usurped his place in her
+heart?
+
+The baronet remembered what Victor Carrington had said about Douglas
+Dale; but he could not for one moment believe that his cousin--a man
+whom he considered infinitely beneath him--had the power to win Paulina
+Durski's affection.
+
+"She may perhaps encourage him," he said to himself, "especially now
+that his income is doubled. She might even accept him as a husband--
+women are so mercenary. But her heart will never cease to be mine."
+
+Sir Reginald waited a week, a fortnight, but there came no letter from
+Paulina. He called on Carrington, according to appointment, but his
+friend had changed his mind, or his tactics, and gave him no
+explanation.
+
+Victor had been a daily visitor at Hilton House during the week which
+had intervened since the day he had dined there and been introduced to
+Douglas Dale. His observation had enabled him to decide upon
+accelerating the progress of his designs. The hold which Paulina had
+obtained upon Douglas Dale's affection was secure; he had proposed to
+her much sooner than Victor had anticipated; the perfect understanding
+and confidence subsisting between them rendered the cautious game which
+he had intended to play unnecessary, and he did not now care how soon a
+final rupture between Paulina and Reginald should take place. Indeed,
+for two of his purposes--the establishment of an avowed quarrel between
+Douglas Dale and his cousin, Sir Reginald, and the infliction of ever-
+growing injury on Paulina's reputation,--the sooner such a rupture
+could be brought about the better. Therefore Victor Carrington assumed
+a tone of reserve and mystery, which did not fail to exasperate Sir
+Reginald.
+
+"Do not question me, Reginald," he said. "You are afflicted with a lack
+of moral courage, and your want of nerve would only enfeeble my hand.
+Know nothing--expect nothing. Those who are at work for you know how to
+do their work quietly. Oh, by the way, I want you to sign a little
+document--very much the style of thing you gave me at Raynham Castle."
+
+Nothing could be more careless than the Frenchman's tone and manner as
+he said this; but the document in question was a deed of gift, by which
+Reginald Eversleigh bestowed upon Victor Carrington the clear half of
+whatever income should arise to him, from real or personal property,
+from the date of the first day of June following.
+
+"I am to give you half my income?"
+
+"Yes, my dear Reginald, after the first of next June. You know that I
+am working laboriously to bring about good fortune for you. You cannot
+suppose that I am working for nothing. If you do not choose to sign
+this document, neither do I choose to devote myself any longer to your
+interest."
+
+"And what if you fail?"
+
+"If I fail, the document in question is so much waste paper, since you
+have no income at present, nor are likely to have any income between
+this and next June, unless by my agency."
+
+The result was the same as usual. Reginald signed the deed, without
+even taking the trouble to study its full bearing.
+
+"Have you seen Paulina lately?" he asked, afterwards.
+
+"Not very lately."
+
+"I don't know what's amiss with her," exclaimed Reginald, peevishly;
+"she has not written to me to ask explanation of my absence and
+silence."
+
+"Perhaps she grew tired of writing to a person who valued her letters
+so lightly."
+
+"I was glad enough to hear from her," answered Reginald; "but I could
+not be expected to find time to answer all her letters. Women have
+nothing better to do than to scribble long epistles."
+
+"Perhaps Madame Durski has found some one who will take the trouble to
+answer her letters," said Victor.
+
+After this, the two men parted, and Reginald Eversleigh called a cab,
+in which he drove down to Hilton House.
+
+He might have stayed away much longer, in self-interested obedience to
+Carrington, had he been sure of Paulina's unabated devotion; but he was
+piqued by her silence, and he wanted to discover whether there was a
+rival in the field.
+
+He knew Madame Durski's habits, and that it was not till late in the
+afternoon that she was to be seen.
+
+It was nearly six o'clock when he drove up to the door of Hilton House.
+Carlo Toas admitted him, and favoured him with a searching and somewhat
+severe scrutiny, as he led the way to the drawing-room in which Paulina
+was wont to receive her guests.
+
+Here Sir Reginald felt some little surprise, and a touch of
+mortification, on beholding the aspect of things. He had expected to
+find Paulina pensive, unhappy, perhaps ill. He had expected to see her
+agitated at his coming. He had pondered much upon the cessation of her
+letters; and he had told himself that she had ceased to write because
+she was angry with him--with that anger which exists only where there
+is love.
+
+To his surprise, he found her brilliant, radiant, dressed in her most
+charming style.
+
+Never had he seen her looking more beautiful or more happy.
+
+He pressed the widow's hand tenderly, and contemplated her for some
+moments in silence.
+
+"My dear Paulina," he said at last, "I never saw you looking more
+lovely than to-night. And yet to-night I almost feared to find you
+ill."
+
+"Indeed; and why so?" she asked. Her tone was the ordinary tone of
+society, from which it was impossible to draw any inference.
+
+"Because it is so long since I heard from you."
+
+"I have grown tired of writing letters that were rarely honoured by
+your notice."
+
+"So, so," thought the baronet; "I was right. She is offended."
+
+"To what do I owe this visit?" asked Madame Durski.
+
+"She is desperately angry," thought the baronet. "My dear Paulina," he
+said, aloud, "can you imagine that your letters were indifferent to me?
+I have been busy, and, as you know, I have been away from London."
+
+"Yes," she said; "you spent your Christmas very agreeably, I believe."
+
+"Not at all, I assure you. A bachelors' party in a country parsonage is
+one of the dullest things possible, to say nothing of the tragical
+event which ended my visit," added Reginald, his cheek paling as he
+spoke.
+
+"A bachelors' party!" repeated Paulina; "there were no ladies, then, at
+your cousin's house?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+Paulina Durski's lip curled contemptuously, but she did not openly
+convict Sir Reginald of the deliberate falsehood he had uttered.
+
+"I am very glad you have come to me," she said, presently, "because I
+have urgent need of your help."
+
+"My dear Paulina, believe me--" began the baronet
+
+"Do not make your protest till you have heard what I have to ask," said
+Madame Durski. "You know how troublesome my creditors had become before
+Christmas. The time has arrived when they must be paid, or when I--"
+
+She stopped, and looked searchingly at the face of her companion.
+
+"When you--what?" he asked. "What is the alternative, Paulina?"
+
+"I think you ought to know as well as I," she answered. "I must either
+pay those debts or fly from this place, and from this country,
+disgraced. I appeal to you in this bitter hour of need. Can you not
+help me--you, who have professed to love me?"
+
+"Surely, Paulina, you cannot doubt my love," replied Sir Reginald;
+"unhappily, there is no magical process by which the truest and purest
+love can transform itself into money. I have not a twenty-pound note in
+the world."
+
+"Indeed; and the four hundred and fifty pounds you won from Lord
+Caversham just before Christmas--is that money gone?"
+
+"Every shilling of it," answered Reginald, coolly.
+
+He had notes to the amount of nearly two hundred pounds in his desk;
+but he was the last man in Christendom to sacrifice money which he
+himself required, and his luxurious habits kept him always deeply in
+debt.
+
+"You must have disposed of it very speedily. Surely, it is not all
+gone, Reginald. I think a hundred would satisfy my creditors, for a
+time at least."
+
+"I tell you it is gone, Paulina. I gave you a considerable sum at the
+time I won the money--you should remember."
+
+"Yes, I remember perfectly. You gave me fifty pounds--fifty pounds for
+the support of the house which enabled you to entrap your dupes, while
+I was the bait to lure them to their ruin. Oh, you have been very
+generous, very noble; and now that your dupes are tired of being
+cheated--now that your cat's paw has become useless to you--I am to
+leave the country, because you will not sacrifice one selfish desire to
+save me from disgrace."
+
+"This is absurd, Paulina," exclaimed the baronet, impatiently; "you
+talk the usual nonsense women indulge in when they can't have
+everything their own way. It is not in my power to help you to pay your
+creditors, and you had much better slip quietly away while you are free
+to do so, and before they contrive to get you into prison. You know
+what Sheridan said about frittering away his money in paying his debts.
+There's no knowing where to leave off if you once begin that sort of
+thing."
+
+"You would have me steal away in secret, like what you English call a
+swindler!"
+
+"You needn't dwell upon unpleasant names. Some of the best people in
+England have been obliged to cross the water for the same reasons that
+render your residence here unpleasant. There's nothing to be gained by
+sentimental talk about the business, my dear Paulina. My friends at the
+clubs have begun to grow suspicious of this house, and I don't think
+there's a chance of my ever winning another sovereign in these rooms.
+Why, then, should you remain to be tormented by your creditors? Return
+to Paris, where you have twice as many devoted slaves and admirers as
+in this detestable straight-laced land of ours. I will slip across as
+soon as ever I can settle my affairs here some way or other, and once
+more you may be queen of a brilliant _salon_, while I--"
+
+"While you may find a convenient cat's paw for getting hold of new
+plunder," cried Paulina, with unmitigated scorn. Then, with a sudden
+burst of passion, she exclaimed, "Oh, Sir Reginald Eversleigh, I thank
+Providence for this interview. At last--at last, I understand you
+completely. I have been testing you, Sir Reginald--I have been sounding
+your character. I have stooped to beg for help from you, in order that
+I might know the broken reed on which I have leaned. And now I can
+laugh at you, and despise you. Go, Sir Reginald Eversleigh; this house
+is mine--my home--no longer a private gambling-house--no longer a snare
+for the delusion of your rich friends. I am no longer friendless. My
+debts have been paid--paid by one who, if he had owned but one
+sixpence, would have given it to me, content to be penniless himself
+for my sake. I have no need of your help. I am not obliged to creep
+away in the night like a felon, from the house that has sheltered me. I
+can now dare to call myself mistress of this house, unfettered by debt,
+untrammelled by the shameful secrets that made my life odious to me;
+and my first act as mistress of this house shall be to forbid its doors
+to you."
+
+"Indeed, Madame Durski!" cried Reginald, with a sneer; "this is a
+wonderful change."
+
+"You thought, perhaps, there were no limits to a woman's folly," said
+Paulina; "but you see you were wrong. There is an end even to that. And
+now, Sir Reginald Eversleigh, I will wish you good evening, and
+farewell."
+
+"Is this a farce, Paulina?" asked the baronet, in a voice that was
+almost stifled by rage.
+
+"No, Sir Reginald, it is a stern reality," answered Madame Durski,
+laying her hand on the bell.
+
+Her summons was speedily answered by Carlo Toas.
+
+"Carlo, the door," she said, quietly.
+
+The baronet gave her one look--a dark and threatening glance--and then
+left the room, followed by the Spaniard, who conducted him to his cab
+with every token of grave respect.
+
+"Curse her!" muttered Sir Reginald, between his set teeth, as he drove
+away from Hilton House. "It must be Douglas Dale who has given her the
+power to insult me thus, and he shall pay for her insolence. But why
+did Victor bring those two together? An alliance between them can only
+result in mischief to me. I must and will fathom his motive for conduct
+that seems so incomprehensible."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Reginald and his fatal ally, Carrington, met on the following day,
+and the former angrily related the scene which had been enacted at
+Hilton House.
+
+"Your influence has been at work there," he exclaimed. "You have
+brought about an alliance between this woman and Douglas Dale."
+
+"I have," answered Victor, coolly. "Mr. Dale has offered her his hand
+and fortune, as well as his heart, and has been accepted."
+
+"You are going to play me false, Victor Carrington!"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes, or else why take such pains to bring about this marriage?"
+
+"You are a fool, Reginald Eversleigh, and an obstinate fool, or you
+would not harp upon this subject after what I have said. I have told
+you that the marriage which you fear will never take place."
+
+"How will you prevent it?"
+
+"As easily as I could bring it about, did I choose to do so. Pshaw! my
+dear boy, the simple, honest people in this world are so many puppets,
+and it needs but the master-mind to pull the strings."
+
+"If this marriage is not intended to take place, why have you brought
+about an engagement between Paulina and Douglas?" asked the baronet, in
+nowise convinced by what his ally had said. "I have my reasons, and
+good ones, though you are too dull of brain to perceive them," replied
+Victor, impatiently. "You and your cousin, Douglas Dale, have been fast
+friends, have you not?"
+
+"We have."
+
+"Listen to me, then. If he were to die without direct heirs you are the
+only person who would profit by his death; and if he, a young; man,
+powerful of frame, in robust health, no likely subject for disease,
+were to die, leaving you owner of ten thousand a year, and were to die
+while in the habit of holding daily intercourse with you, known to be
+your friend and companion, is it not just possible that malevolent and
+suspicious people might drop strange hints as to the cause of his
+death? They might harp upon your motives for wishing him out of the
+way. They might dwell upon the fact that you were so much together, and
+that you had such opportunities--mark me, Reginald, _opportunities_--
+for tampering with the one solitary life which stood between you and
+fortune. They might say all this, might they not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Reginald, in his gloomiest tone, "they might."
+
+"Very well, then, if you take my advice, you will cut your cousin's
+acquaintance from this time. You will take care to let your friends of
+the clubs know that he has supplanted you in the affections of the
+woman you loved, and that you and he are no longer on speaking terms.
+You will cut him publicly at one of your clubs; so that the fact of the
+coldness between you may become sufficiently notorious. And when you
+have done this, you will start for the Continent."
+
+"Go abroad? But why?"
+
+"That is my secret. Remember, you have promised to obey me blindly,"
+answered Victor. "You will go abroad; you will let the world know that
+you and Douglas Dale are divided by the width of the Channel; you will
+leave him free to devote himself to the woman he has chosen for his
+wife; and if, while engaged to her, an untimely fate should overtake
+this young man--if he, like his elder brother, should be removed from
+your pathway, the most malicious scandal-monger that ever lived could
+scarcely say that you had any hand in his fate."
+
+"I understand," murmured Reginald, in a low voice; "I understand."
+
+He said no more. He had grown white to the very lips; and those pale
+lips were dry and feverish. But the conversation changed abruptly, and
+Douglas Dale's name was not again mentioned.
+
+In the meantime, the betrothed lovers had been very happy and this
+interview, which she had always dreaded but felt she could not avoid,
+having passed over, Paulina was more at liberty to realize her changed
+position, and dwell on her future prospects. She was really happy, but
+in her happiness there was some touch of fever, something too much of
+nervous excitement. It was not the calm happiness which makes the
+crowning joy of an untroubled life. A long career of artificial
+excitement, of alternate fears and hopes, the mad delight and madder
+despair which makes the gambler's fever, had unfitted Paulina for the
+quiet peace of a spirit at rest. She yearned for rest, but the angel of
+rest had been scared away by the long nights of dissipation, and would
+not answer to her call.
+
+Victor Carrington had fathomed the mystery of her feverish gaiety--her
+intervals of dull apathy that was almost despair. In the depth of her
+misery she had lulled herself to a false repose by the use of opium;
+and even now, when the old miseries were no more, she could not exist
+without the poisonous anodyne.
+
+"Douglas Dale must be blinded by his infatuation, or he would have
+found out the state of the case by this time," Victor said to himself.
+"Circumstances could not be more favourable to my plans. A man who is
+blind and deaf, and utterly idiotic under the influence of an absurd
+infatuation, one woman whose brains are intoxicated by opium, and
+another who would sell her soul for money."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+These incidents, which have occupied so much space in the telling, in
+reality did not fill up much time. Only a month had elapsed since
+Lionel Dale's death, when Reginald Eversleigh and Paulina had the
+interview described above. And now it seemed as though Fate itself were
+conspiring with the conspirators, for the watch kept upon them by
+Andrew Larkspur was perforce delayed, and Lady Eversleigh's designs of
+retributive punishment were suspended. A few days after the return of
+Mr. Larkspur to town, that gentleman was seized with serious illness,
+and for three weeks was unable to leave his bed. Mr. Andrew lay ill
+with acute bronchitis, in the lodging-house in Percy Street, and Mrs.
+Eden was compelled to wait his convalescence with what patience she
+might.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh and Douglas Dale met at the Phoenix Club soon
+after Reginald's interview with Madame Durski.
+
+Douglas met his cousin with a quiet and courteous manner, in which
+there was no trace of unfriendly feeling: a manner that expressed so
+little of any feeling whatever as to be almost negative.
+
+It was not so, however, with Sir Reginald. He remembered Victor
+Carrington's advice as to the wisdom of a palpable estrangement between
+himself and his cousin, and he took good care to act upon that counsel.
+
+This course was, indeed, the only one that would have been at all
+agreeable to him.
+
+He hated Douglas Dale with all the force of his evil nature, as the
+innocent instrument of Sir Oswald's retribution upon the destroyer of
+Mary Goodwin.
+
+He envied the young man the advantages which his own bad conduct had
+forfeited; and he now had learned to hate him with redoubled intensity,
+as the man who had supplanted him in the affections of Paulina Durski.
+
+The two men met in the smoking-room of the club at the most fashionable
+hour of the day.
+
+Nothing could have been more conspicuous than the haughty insolence of
+the spendthrift baronet as he saluted his wealthy cousin.
+
+"How is it I have not seen you at my chambers in the Temple,
+Eversleigh?" asked Douglas, in that calm tone of studied courtesy which
+expresses so little.
+
+"Because I had no particular reason for calling on you; and because, if
+I had wished to see you, I should scarcely have expected to find you in
+your Temple chambers," answered Sir Reginald. "If report does not belie
+you, you spend the greater part of your existence at a certain villa at
+Fulham."
+
+There was that in Sir Reginald Eversleigh's tone which attracted the
+attention of the men within hearing--almost all of whom were well
+acquainted with the careers of the two cousins, and many of whom knew
+them personally.
+
+Though the club loungers were too well-bred to listen, it was
+nevertheless obvious that the attention of all had been more or less
+aroused by the baronet's tone and manner.
+
+Douglas Dale answered, in accents as audible, and a tone as haughty as
+the accents and tone of his cousin.
+
+"Report is not likely to belie me," he said, "since there is no mystery
+in my life to afford food for gossip. If by a certain villa at Fulham
+you mean Hilton House, you are not mistaken. I have the honour to be a
+frequent guest at that house."
+
+"It is an honour which many of us have enjoyed," answered Reginald,
+with a sneer.
+
+"An honour which I used to find deuced expensive, by Jove!" exclaimed
+Viscount Caversham, who was standing near Douglas Dale.
+
+"That was at the time when Sir Reginald Eversleigh usurped the position
+of host in Madame Durski's house," replied Douglas. "You would find
+things much changed there now, Caversham, were the lady to favour you
+by an invitation. When Madame Durski first came to England she was so
+unfortunate as to fall into the hands of evil counsellors. She has
+learned since to know her friends from her enemies."
+
+"She is a very charming woman," drawled the viscount, laughingly; "but
+if you want to keep a balance at your banker's, Dale, I should strongly
+advise you to refuse her hospitality."
+
+"Madame Durski will shortly be my wife," replied Douglas, in a voice
+loud enough to be heard by the bystanders; "and the smallest word
+calculated to cast a slur on her fair fame will be an insult to me--an
+insult which I shall know how to resent."
+
+This announcement fell like a thunderbolt in the assembly of
+fashionable idlers. All knew the history of the house at Fulham. They
+knew of Paulina Durski only as a beautiful, but dangerous, syren, whose
+fatal smiles lured men to their ruin. That Douglas Dale should unite
+himself to such a woman seemed to them little short of absolute
+madness.
+
+Love must be strong indeed which will face the ridicule of mankind
+unflinchingly. Douglas Dale knew that, in redeeming Paulina from her
+miserable situation, in elevating her to a position that many blameless
+and well-born Englishwomen would have gladly accepted, he was making a
+sacrifice which the men amongst whom he lived would condemn as the act
+of a fool. But he was willing to endure this, painful though it was to
+him, for the sake of the woman he loved.
+
+"Better that I should have the scorn of shallow-brained worldlings than
+that the blight on her life should continue," he said to himself. "When
+she is my wife, no man will dare to question her honour--no woman will
+dare to frown upon her when she enters society leaning on my arm."
+
+This is what Douglas Dale repeated to himself very often during his
+courtship of Paulina Durski. This is what he thought as he stood erect
+and defiant in the crowded room of the Pall Mall club, facing the
+curious looks of his acquaintances.
+
+After the first shock there was a dead silence; no voice murmured the
+common-place phrases of congratulation which might naturally have
+followed such an announcement. If Douglas Dale had just announced that
+some dire misfortune had befallen him, the faces of the men around him
+could not have been more serious. No one smiled; no one applauded his
+choice; not one voice congratulated him on having won for himself so
+fair a bride.
+
+That ominous silence told Douglas Dale how terrible was the stigma
+which the world had set upon her he so fondly loved. The anguish which
+rent his heart during those few moments is not to be expressed by
+words. After that most painful silence, he walked to the table at which
+it was his habit to sit, and began to read a newspaper. Sir Reginald
+watched him furtively for a few moments in silence, and then left the
+room.
+
+After this the two cousins met frequently; but they never spoke. They
+passed each other with the coldest and most ceremonious salutation. The
+idlers of the club perceived this, and commented on the fact.
+
+"Douglas Dale and his cousin are not on speaking terms," they said:
+"they have quarrelled about that beautiful Austrian widow, at whose
+house there used to be such high play."
+
+In Paulina's society, Douglas tried to forget the cruel shadow which
+darkened, and which, in all likelihood, would for ever darken, her
+name; and while in her society he contrived to banish from his mind all
+bitter thought of the world's harsh verdict and cruel condemnation.
+
+But away from Paulina he was tortured by the recollection of that scene
+at the Phoenix Club; tormented by the thought that, let him make what
+sacrifice he might, he could never wipe out the stain which those
+midnight assemblies of gamesters had left on his future wife's
+reputation.
+
+"We will leave England for ever after the marriage," he said to himself
+sometimes. "We will make our home in some fair Italian city, where my
+Paulina will be respected and admired as if she were a queen, as well
+as the loveliest and sweetest of women."
+
+If he asked Paulina where their future life was to be spent she always
+replied to him in the same manner.
+
+"Wherever you take me I shall be content," she said. "I can never be
+grateful enough for your goodness; I can never repay the debt I owe
+you. Let our future be your planning, not mine."
+
+"And you have no wish, no fancy, that I can realize, Paulina?"
+
+"None. Prom my earliest girlhood I have sighed for only one blessing--
+peace! You have given me that. What more can I ask at your hands? Ah!
+Douglas, I fear my love has already cost you too dearly. The world will
+never forgive you for your choice; you, who might make so brilliant a
+marriage!"
+
+Her generous feelings once aroused, Paulina could be almost as noble as
+her lover. Again and again she implored him to withdraw his promise--to
+leave, and to forget her.
+
+"Believe me, Douglas, our engagement is a mistake," she said. "Consider
+this before it is too late. You are a proud man where honour is
+concerned, and the past life of her whom you marry should be without
+spot or blemish. It is not so with me. If I have not sinned as other
+women have sinned, I have stooped to be the companion of gamblers and
+roues; I have allowed my house to become the haunt of reckless and
+dissipated men. Society revenges itself cruelly upon those who break
+its laws. Society will neither forget nor forgive my offence."
+
+"I do not live for society, but for you, Paulina," replied Douglas,
+passionately; "you are all the world to me. Let me never hear these
+arguments again, unless you would have me think that you are weary of
+me, and that you only want an excuse for getting rid of me."
+
+"Weary of you!" exclaimed Paulina; "my friend, my benefactor. How can I
+ever prove my gratitude for your goodness--your devotion?"
+
+"By learning to love me a little," answered Douglas, tenderly.
+
+"The lesson ought not to be difficult," Paulina murmured.
+
+Could she do less than love this noble friend, this pure-minded and
+unselfish adorer?
+
+He came to her one day, accompanied by a solicitor; but before
+introducing the man of law, he asked for a private interview with
+Paulina, and in this interview gave her a new proof of his devotion.
+
+"In thinking much of our position, dearest, I have been struck with a
+sudden terror of the uncertainty of life. What would be your fate,
+Paulina, if anything were to happen--if--well, if I were to die
+suddenly, as men so often die in this high-pressure age, before
+marriage had united our interests? What would be your fate, alone and
+helpless, assailed once more by all the perplexities of poverty, and,
+perhaps, subject to the mean spite of my cousin, Reginald Eversleigh,
+who does not forgive me for having robbed him of his place in your
+heart, little as he was worthy of your love?"
+
+"Oh, Douglas!" exclaimed Paulina, "why do you imagine such things? Why
+should death assail you?"
+
+"Why, indeed, dearest," returned Douglas, with a smile. "Do not think
+that I anticipate so sad a close to our engagement. But it is the duty
+of a man to look sharply out for every danger in the pathway of the
+woman he is bound to protect. I am a lawyer, remember, Paulina, and I
+contemplate the future with the eye of a lawyer. So far as I can secure
+you from even the possibility of misfortune, I will do it. I have
+brought a solicitor here to-day, in order that he may read you a will
+which I have this morning executed in your favour."
+
+"A will!" repeated Madame Durski; "you are only too good to me. But
+there is something horrible to my mind in these legal formalities."
+
+"That is only a woman's prejudice. It is the feminine idea that a man
+must needs be at the point of death when he makes his will. And now let
+me explain the nature of this will," continued Douglas. "I have told
+you that if I should happen to die without direct heirs, the estate
+left me by Sir Oswald Eversleigh will go to my cousin Reginald. That
+estate, from which is derived my income, I have no power to alienate; I
+am a tenant for life only. But my income has been double, and sometimes
+treble, my expenditure, for my habits have been very simple, and my
+life only that of a student in the Temple. My sole extravagance,
+indeed, has been the collection of a library. I have, therefore, been
+able to save twelve thousand pounds, and this sum is my own to
+bequeath. I have made a will, leaving this amount to you, Paulina--
+charged only with a small annuity to a faithful old servant--together
+with my personal property, consisting only of a few good Italian
+pictures, a library of rare old books, and the carvings and decorations
+of my roams--all valuable in their way. This is all the law allows me
+to give you, Paulina; but it will, at least, secure you from want."
+
+Madame Durski tried to speak; but she was too deeply affected by this
+new proof of her lover's generosity. Tears choked her utterance; she
+took Douglas Dale's hand in both her own, and lifted it to her lips;
+and this silent expression of gratitude touched his heart more than the
+most eloquent speech could have affected it.
+
+He led her into the room where the attorney awaited her.
+
+"This gentleman is Mr. Horley," he said, "a friend and adviser in whom
+you may place unbounded confidence. My will is to remain in his
+possession; and should any untimely fate overtake me, he will protect
+your interests. And now, Mr. Horley, will you be good enough to read
+the document to Madame Durski, in order that she may understand what
+her position would be in case of the worst?"
+
+Mr. Horley read the will. It was as simple and concise as the law
+allows any legal document to be; and it made Paulina Durski mistress of
+twelve thousand pounds, and property equal to two or three thousand
+more, in the event of Douglas Dale's death.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+
+                  "A WORTHLESS WOMAN, MERE COLD CLAY."
+
+Neither Lydia Graham nor her brother were quick to recover from the
+disappointment caused by the untimely fate of Lionel Dale. Miss Graham
+endeavoured to sustain her failing spirits with the hope that in
+Douglas she might find a wealthier prize than his brother; but Douglas
+was yet to be enslaved by those charms which Lydia herself felt were on
+the wane, and by fascinations which twelve years of fashionable
+existence had rendered somewhat stale even to the fair Lydia's most
+ardent admirers.
+
+It was very bitter--the cup had been so near her lips, when an adverse
+destiny had dashed it from her. The lady's grief was painfully sincere.
+She did not waste one lamentation on her lover's sad fate, but she most
+bitterly regretted her own loss of a rich husband.
+
+She watched and hoped day after day for the promised visit from Douglas
+Dale, but he did not come. Every day during visiting hours she wore her
+most becoming toilets; she arranged her small drawing-room with the
+studied carelessness of an elegant woman; she seated herself in her
+most graceful attitudes every time the knocker heralded the advent of a
+caller; but it was all so much wasted labour. The only guest whom she
+cared to see was not among those morning visitors; and Lydia's heart
+began to be oppressed by a sense of despair.
+
+"Well, Gordon, have you heard anything of Douglas Dale?" she asked her
+brother, day after day.
+
+One day he came home with a very gloomy face, and when she uttered the
+usual question, he answered her in his gloomiest tone.
+
+"I've heard something you'll scarcely care to learn," he said, "as it
+must sound the death-knell of all your hopes in that quarter. You know,
+Douglas Dale is a member of the Phoenix, as well as the Forum. I don't
+belong to the Phoenix, as you also know, but I meet Dale occasionally
+at the Forum. Yesterday I lunched with Lord Caversham, a member of the
+Phoenix, and an acquaintance of Dale's; and from him I learned that
+Douglas Dale has publicly announced his intended marriage with Paulina
+Durski."
+
+"Impossible!" exclaimed Lydia.
+
+She had heard of Paulina and the villa at Fulham from her brother, and
+she hated the lovely Austrian for the beauty and the fascination which
+won her a kind of renown amongst the fops and lordlings--the idlers and
+spendthrifts of the fashionable clubs.
+
+"It cannot be true," cried Miss Graham, flushing crimson with anger.
+"It is one of Lord Caversham's absurd stories; and I dare say is
+without the slightest foundation. I cannot and will not believe that
+Douglas Dale would throw himself away upon such a woman as this Madame
+Durski."
+
+"You have never seen her?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Then don't speak so very confidently," said Captain Graham, who was
+malicious enough to take some pleasure in his sister's discomfiture.
+"Paulina Durski is one of the handsomest women I ever saw; not above
+five-and-twenty years of age--elegant, fascinating, patrician--a woman
+for whose sake a wiser man than Douglas Dale might be willing to
+sacrifice himself."
+
+"I will see Mr. Dale," exclaimed Lydia. "I will ascertain from his own
+lips whether there is any foundation for this report."
+
+"How will you contrive to see him?" "You must arrange that for me. You
+can invite him to dinner."
+
+"I can invite him; but the question is whether he will come. Perhaps,
+if you were to write him a note, he would be more flattered than by any
+verbal invitation from me."
+
+Lydia was not slow to take this hint. She wrote one of those charming
+and flattering epistles which an artful and self-seeking woman of the
+world so well knows how to pen. She expressed her surprise and regret
+at not having seen Mr. Dale since her return to town--her fear that he
+might be ill, her hope that he would accept an invitation to a friendly
+dinner with herself and her brother, who was also most anxious about
+him.
+
+She was not destined to disappointment. On the following day she
+received a brief note from Mr. Dale, accepting her invitation for the
+next evening.
+
+The note was very stiffly--nay, almost coldly worded; but Lydia
+attributed the apparent lack of warmth to the reserved nature of
+Douglas Dale, rather than to any failure of her own scheme.
+
+The fact that he accepted her invitation at all, she considered a proof
+of the falsehood of the report about his intended marriage, and a good
+omen for herself.
+
+She took care to provide a _recherche_ little dinner for her important
+guest, low as the finances of herself and her brother were--and were
+likely to be for some time to come. She invited a dashing widow, who
+was her obliging friend and neighbour, and who was quite ready to play
+propriety for the occasion. Lydia Graham looked her handsomest when
+Douglas Dale was ushered into her presence that evening; but she little
+knew how indifferent were the eyes that contemplated her bold, dark
+beauty; and how, even as he looked at her, Douglas Dale's thoughts
+wandered to the fair, pale face of Paulina Durski--that face, which for
+him was the loveliest that had ever beamed with light and beauty below
+the stars.
+
+The dinner was to all appearance a success. Nothing could be more
+cordial or friendly, as it seemed, than that party of four, seated at a
+prettily decorated circular table, attended by a well-trained man-
+servant--the dashing widow's butler and factotum, borrowed for the
+occasion.
+
+Mrs. Marmaduke, the dashing widow, made herself very agreeable, and
+took care to engage Captain Graham in conversation all the evening,
+leaving Lydia free to occupy the entire attention of Douglas Dale.
+
+That young lady made excellent use of her time. Day by day her chances
+of a rich marriage had grown less and less, and day by day she had
+grown more and more anxious to secure a position and a home. She had a
+very poor opinion of Mr. Dale's intellect, for she believed only in the
+cleverness of those bolder and more obtrusive men who make themselves
+prominent in every assembly. She thought him a man easily to be
+beguiled by honeyed words and bewitching glances, and she had,
+therefore, determined to play a bold, if not a desperate game. While
+Mrs. Marmaduke and Captain Graham were talking in the front drawing-
+room, Lydia contrived to detain her guest in the inner apartment--a
+tiny chamber, just large enough to hold a small cottage piano, a stand
+of music-books, and a couple of chairs.
+
+Miss Graham seated herself at the piano, and played a few bars with an
+absent and somewhat pensive air.
+
+"That is a mournful melody," said Douglas. "I don't think I ever heard
+it before."
+
+"Indeed!" murmured Lydia; "and yet I think it is very generally known.
+The air is pretty, is it not? But the words are ultra-sentimental."
+
+And then she began to sing softly--
+
+          "I do not ask to offer thee
+             A timid love like mine;
+           I lay it, as the rose is laid,
+             On some immortal shrine."
+
+
+"I think the words are rather pretty," said Douglas.
+
+"Do you?" murmured Miss Graham; and then she stopped suddenly, looking
+downward, with one of those conscious blushes which were always at her
+command.
+
+There was a pause. Douglas Dale stood by the music-stand, listlessly
+turning over a volume of songs.
+
+Lydia was the first to break the silence.
+
+"Why did you not come to see us sooner, Mr. Dale?" she asked. "You
+promised me you would come."
+
+"I have been too much engaged to come," answered Douglas.
+
+This reply sounded almost rude; but to Lydia this unpolished manner
+seemed only the result of extreme shyness, and, indeed, embarrassment,
+which to her appeared proof positive of her intended victim's
+enthralment.
+
+Her eyes grew bright with a glance of triumph.
+
+"I shall win," she thought to herself; "I shall win."
+
+"Have you really wished to see me?" asked Douglas, after another pause.
+
+"I did indeed wish to see you," she murmured, in tremulous tones.
+
+"Indeed!" said Douglas, in a tone that might mean astonishment,
+delight, or anything else. "Well, Miss Graham, that was very kind of
+you. I go out very little, and never except to the houses of intimate
+friends."
+
+"Surely you number us--my brother, I mean--among that privileged
+class," said Lydia, once more blushing bewitchingly.
+
+"I do, indeed," said Douglas Dale, in a candid, kind, unembarrassed
+tone, which, if she had been a little less under the dominion of that
+proverbially blinding quality, vanity, would have been the most
+discouraging of all possible tones, to the schemes which she had
+formed; "I never forget how high you stood in my poor brother's esteem,
+Miss Graham; indeed, if you will pardon my saying so, I thought there
+was a much warmer feeling than that, on his part."
+
+Lydia hardly knew how to take this observation. In one sense it was
+flattering, in another discouraging. If the belief brought Douglas Dale
+into easier relations with her, if it induced him to feel that a bond
+of friendship, cemented by the memory of the past, subsisted between
+them, so much the better for her purpose; but if he believed that this
+supposed love of Lionel's had been returned, and proposed to cultivate
+her on the mutual sympathy, or "weep with thee, tear for tear,"
+principle, so much the worse. The position was undeniably embarrassing
+even to a young lady of Miss Lydia Graham's remarkable strength of
+mind, and _savoir faire_. But she extricated herself from it, without
+speaking, by some wonderful management of her eyes, and a slight
+deprecatory movement of her shoulders, which made even Douglas Dale, a
+by no means ready man, though endowed with deep feelings and strong
+common sense, understand, as well as if she had spoken, that Lionel had
+indeed entertained feelings of a tender nature towards her, but that
+she had not returned them by any warmer sentiment than friendship. It
+was admirably well done; and the next sentence which Douglas Dale spoke
+was certainly calculated to nourish Lydia's hopes.
+
+"He might have sustained a terrible grief, then, had he lived longer,"
+said Douglas; "but I see this subject pains you, Miss Graham; I will
+touch upon it no more. But perhaps you will allow the recollection of
+what we must both believe to have been his feelings and his hopes, to
+plead with you for me."
+
+"For you, Mr. Dale!" and Lydia Graham's breast heaved with genuine
+emotion, and her voice trembled with no artificial faltering.
+
+"Yes, Miss Graham, for me. I need a friend, such a friend as you could
+be, if you would, to counsel and to aid me. But, pardon me, I am
+detaining you, and you have another guest." (How ardently Lydia Graham
+wished she had not invited the accommodating widow to play propriety!)
+"You will permit me to visit you soon again, and we will speak of much
+which cannot now be discussed. May I come soon?"
+
+As he spoke these hope-inspiring words, there was genuine eagerness in
+the tone of Douglas Dale's voice, there was brightness in his frank
+eyes. No wonder Lydia held the story her brother had told her in
+scornful disbelief; no wonder she felt all the glow of the fulfilment
+of long-deferred hope. What would have been her sensations had she
+known that Douglas Dale's only actuating motive in the proposed
+friendly alliance, was to secure a female friend for his adored
+Paulina, to gain for her the countenance and protection of a woman
+whose place in society was recognized and unassailable?
+
+"You will excuse my joining your brother and your friend now, will you
+not, Miss Graham? I must, at all events, have taken an early leave of
+you, and this conversation has given me much to think of. I shall see
+you soon again. Good night!"
+
+He moved hastily, passed through the door of the small apartment which,
+opened on the staircase, and was gone. Lydia Graham remained alone for
+a few moments, in a triumphant reverie, then she joined Gordon Graham
+and the bewitching widow, who had been making the most of the
+opportunity for indulging in her favourite florid style of flirtation.
+
+"I have won," Lydia said to herself; "and how easily! Poor fellow; his
+agitation was really painful. He did not even stop to shake hands with
+me."
+
+Mrs. Marmaduke took leave of her dearest Lydia, and her dearest Lydia's
+brother, soon after Douglas Dale had departed, and Miss Graham and her
+brother were left _tete-a-tete_.
+
+"Well," said Gordon Graham, with rather a sulky air, "you don't seem to
+have done much execution by your dinner-party, my young lady. Dale went
+off in a great hurry, which does not say much for your powers of
+fascination."
+
+Lydia gave her head a triumphant little toss as she looked at her
+brother.
+
+"You are remarkably clever, my dear Gordon," she said; "but you are apt
+to make mistakes occasionally, in spite of your cleverness. What should
+you say if I were to tell you that Mr. Dale has this evening almost
+made me an offer of his hand?"
+
+"You don't mean to say so?"
+
+"I do mean to say so," answered Lydia, triumphantly. "He is one of that
+eccentric kind of people who have their own manner of doing things, and
+do not care to tread the beaten track; or it may be that it is only his
+reserved nature which renders him strange and awkward in his manner of
+avowing himself."
+
+"Never mind how awkwardly the offer has been made, provided it is
+genuine," returned the practical Captain Graham. "But I don't like
+'almosts.' Besides, you really must mind what you are about, Lydia; for
+I assure you there is no doubt at all about the fact of his engagement.
+He stated it himself."
+
+"Well, and suppose he did," said Lydia, "and suppose some good-for-
+nothing woman, in an equivocal position, _has_ trapped him into an
+offer. Is he the first man who has got into a dilemma of that kind, and
+got out of it? He thought I cared for Lionel, and that so there was no
+hope for him. I can quite understand his getting himself into an
+entanglement of the kind, under such circumstances."
+
+Gordon Graham smiled, a certain satirical smile, intensely irritating
+to his sister's temper (which she called her nerves), and which it was
+rather fortunate she did not see. He was perfectly alive to the
+omnivorous quality of his sister's vanity, and perfectly aware that it
+had on many occasions led her into a fool's paradise, whence she had
+been ejected into the waste regions of disappointment and bitterness of
+spirit. He had been quite willing that she should try the experiment
+upon Douglas Dale, to which that gentleman had just been subjected; but
+he had not been sanguine as to its results, and he did not implicitly
+confide in the very exhilarating statement now made to him by Lydia. If
+Douglas Dale's "almost" proposal meant nothing more than that he would
+be glad, or implied that he would be glad to be off with Paulina and on
+with Lydia, he did not think very highly of the chances of the latter.
+A man of the world, in the worst sense of that widely significant word,
+Gordon Graham was inclined to think that Douglas Dale was merely
+trifling with his sister, indulging in a "safe" flirtation, under the
+aegis of an avowed engagement. Graham felt very anxious to know the
+particulars of the conversation between Dale and his sister, in order
+to discover how far they bore out his theory; but he knew Lydia too
+well to place implicit reliance on any statement of them he might
+elicit from her.
+
+"Well, but," said he, "supposing you are right in all this, the
+'entanglement,' as you call it, exists. How did he explain, or excuse
+it?"
+
+Lydia smiled, a self-satisfied, contemptuous smile. She was not jealous
+of Madame Durski; she despised her. "He did not excuse it; he did not
+explain; he knows he has no severity to fear from me. All he needs is
+to induce me to acknowledge my affection for him, and then he will soon
+rid himself of all obstacles. Don't be afraid, Gordon; this is a great
+falling off from the ambitions I once cherished, the hopes I once
+formed; this is a very different kind of thing from Sir Oswald
+Eversleigh and Raynham Castle, but I have made up my mind to be content
+with it."
+
+Lydia spoke with a kind of virtuous resignation and resolution,
+infinitely assuring to her brother. But he was getting tired of the
+discussion, and desirous to end it. Anxious as he was to be rid of his
+sister, and to effect the riddance on the best possible terms, he did
+not mean to be bored by her just then. So he spoke to the point at
+once.
+
+"That's rather a queer mode of proceeding," he said. "You are to avow
+your affection for this fine gentleman, and then he is to throw over
+another lady in order to reward your devotion. There was a day when
+Miss Graham's pride would have been outraged by a proposition which
+certainly seems rather humiliating."
+
+Lydia flushed crimson, and looked at her brother with angry eyes. She
+felt the sting of his malicious speech, and knew that it was intended
+to wound her.
+
+"Pride and I have long parted company," she answered, bitterly. "I have
+learnt to endure degradation as placidly as you do when you condescend
+to become the toady and flatterer of richer men than yourself."
+
+Captain Graham did not take the trouble to resent this remark. He
+smiled at his sister's anger, with the air of a man who is quite
+indifferent to the opinion of others.
+
+"Well, my dear Lydia," he said, good-humouredly, "all I can say is,
+that if you have caught the brother of your late admirer, you are very
+lucky. The merest schoolboy knows enough arithmetic to be aware that
+ten thousand a year is twice as good as five. And it certainly is not
+every woman's fortune to be able to recover a chance which seemed so
+nearly lost as yours when we left Hallgrove. By all means nail him to
+his proposition, and let him throw over the lovely Paulina. What a fool
+the man must be not to know his mind a little better!"
+
+"Madame Durski entrapped him into the engagement," said Lydia,
+scornfully.
+
+"Ah, to be sure, women have a way of laying snares of the matrimonial
+kind, as you and I know, my dear Lydia. And now, good night. Go and
+think about your trousseau in the silence of your own apartment."
+
+Lydia Graham fell asleep that night, secure in the certainty that the
+end and aim of her selfish life had been at last attained, and disposed
+to regard the interval as very brief that must elapse before Douglas
+Dale would come to throw himself at her feet.
+
+For a day or two unwonted peace and serenity were observable in Lydia
+Graham's demeanour and countenance. She took even more than the
+ordinary pains with her dress; she arranged her little drawing-room
+more than ever effectively and with sedulous care, and she remained at
+home every afternoon, in spite of fine weather and an unusual number of
+invitations. But Douglas Dale made no sign, he did not come, he did not
+write, and all his enthusiastic declarations seemed to have ended in
+nothing. The truth was that Paulina Durski was ill, and in his anxiety
+and uneasiness, Douglas forgot even the existence of Lydia Graham.
+
+A vague alarm began to fill Lydia's mind, and she felt as if the good
+establishment, the liberal allowance of pin-money, the equipages, the
+clever French maid, the diamonds, and all the other delightful things
+which she had looked upon almost as already her own, were suddenly
+vanishing away like a dream.
+
+Miss Graham was in no very amiable humour when, after a week's watching
+and suspense, she descended to the dining-room, a small and shabbily
+furnished apartment, which bore upon it the stamp peculiar to London
+lodging-houses--an aspect which is just the reverse of everything we
+look for in a home.
+
+Gordon Graham was already seated at the breakfast-table.
+
+A letter for Miss Graham lay by the side of her breakfast-cup--a bulky
+document, with four stamps upon the envelope.
+
+Lydia knew the hand too well. It was that of her French milliner,
+Mademoiselle Susanne, to whom she owed a sum which she knew never could
+be paid out of her own finances. The thought of this debt had been a
+perpetual nightmare to her. There was no such thing as bankruptcy for a
+lady of fashion in those days; and it was in the power of Mademoiselle
+Susanna to put her high-bred creditor into a common prison, and detain
+her there until she had passed the ordeal of the Insolvent Debtors'
+Court.
+
+Lydia opened the packet with a sinking heart. There it was, the awful
+bill, with its records of elegant dresses--every one of which had been
+worn with the hope of conquest, and all of which had, so far, failed to
+attain the hoped-for victory. And at the end of that long list came the
+fearful total--close upon three hundred pounds!
+
+"I can never pay it!" murmured Lydia; "never! never!"
+
+Her involuntary exclamation sounded almost like a cry of despair.
+
+Gordon Graham looked up from the newspaper in which he had been
+absorbed until this moment, and stared at his sister.
+
+"What's the matter?" he exclaimed. "Oh, I see! it's a bill--Susanne's,
+I suppose? Well, well, you women will make yourselves handsome at any
+cost, and you must pay for it sooner or later. If you can secure
+Douglas Dale, a cheque from him will soon settle Mademoiselle Susanne,
+and make her your humble slave for the future. But what has gone wrong
+with you, my Lydia? Your brow wears a gloomy shade this morning. Have
+you received no tidings of your lover?"
+
+"Gordon," said Lydia, passionately, "do not taunt me. I don't know what
+to think. But I have played a desperate game--I have risked all upon
+the hazard of this die--and if I have failed I must submit to my fate.
+I can struggle no longer; I am utterly weary of a life that has brought
+me nothing but disappointment and defeat."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+
+                      A MEETING AND AN EXPLANATION.
+
+For George Jernam's young wife, the days passed sadly enough in the
+pleasant village of Allanbay. Fair as the scene of her life was, to
+poor Rosamond it seemed as if the earth were overshadowed by dark
+clouds, through which no ray of sunlight could penetrate. The affection
+which had sprung up between her and Susan Jernam was deep and strong,
+and the only gleam of happiness which Rosamond experienced in her
+melancholy existence came from the affection of her husband's aunt.
+
+If Rosamond's existence was not happy, it was, at least in all outward
+seeming, peaceful. But the heart of the deserted wife knew not peace.
+She was perpetually brooding over the strange circumstances of George's
+departure--perpetually asking herself why it was he had left her.
+
+She could shape no answer to that constantly repeated question.
+
+Had he ceased to love her? No! surely that could not be, for the change
+which arises in the most inconstant heart is, at least, gradual. George
+Jernam had changed in a day--in an hour.
+
+Reason upon the subject as she might, the conviction at which Rosamond
+arrived at last was always the same. She believed that the mysterious
+change that had arisen in the husband she so fondly loved was a change
+in the mind itself--a sudden monomania, beyond the influence of the
+outer world--a wild hallucination of the brain, not to be cured by any
+ordinary physician.
+
+Believing this, the wife's heart was tortured as she thought of the
+perils that surrounded her husband's life--perils that were doubly
+terrible for one whose mind had lost its even balance.
+
+She watched every alteration in the atmosphere, every cloud in the sky,
+with unspeakable anxiety. As the autumn gave place to winter, as the
+winds blew loud above the broad expanse of ocean, as the foam-crests of
+the dark waves rose high, and gleamed white and silvery in the dim
+twilight, her heart sank with an awful fear for the absent wanderer.
+
+Night and day her prayers arose to heaven--such prayers as only the
+loving heart of woman breathes for the object of all her thoughts.
+
+While Rosamond occupied the abode which Captain Jernam had chosen for
+her, River View Cottage was abandoned entirely to the care of Mrs.
+Mugby and Susan Trott, and the trim house had a desolate look in the
+dismal autumn days, and the darkening winter twilights, carefully as it
+was kept by Mrs. Mugby, who aired the rooms, and dusted and polished
+the furniture every day, as industriously as if she had been certain of
+the captain's return before night-fall.
+
+"He may come this night, or he may not come for a year," she said to
+Susan very often, when Miss Trott was a little disposed to neglect some
+of her duties, in the way of dusting and polishing; "but mark my words,
+Susan, when he does come, he'll come sudden, without so much as one
+line of warning, or notice enough to get a bit of dinner ready for
+him."
+
+The day came at last when the housekeeper was gratified to find that
+all her dusting and polishing had not been thrown away. Captain
+Duncombe returned exactly as she had prophesied he would return,
+without sending either note or message to give warning of his arrival.
+
+He rang the bell one day, and walked into the garden, and from the
+garden into the house, with the air of a man who had just come home
+from a morning's walk, much to the astonishment of Susan Trott, who
+admitted him, and who stared at him with eyes opened to their widest
+extent, as he strode hurriedly past her.
+
+He went straight into the parlour he had been accustomed to sit in. A
+fire was burning brightly in the polished steel grate, and everything
+bore the appearance of extreme comfort.
+
+The merchant-captain looked round the room with an air of satisfaction.
+
+"There's nothing like a trip to the Indies for making a man appreciate
+the comforts of his own home," he exclaimed. "How cheery it all looks;
+and a man must be a fool who couldn't enjoy himself at home after
+tossing about in a hurricane off Gibraltar for a week at a stretch. But
+where's your mistress?" cried Joe Duncombe, suddenly, turning to the
+astonished Susan. "Where's Mrs. Jernam?--where's my daughter? Doesn't
+she hear her old father's gruff voice? Isn't she coming to bid me
+welcome after all I've gone through to earn more money for her?"
+
+Before Susan could answer, Mrs. Mugby had heard the voice of her
+master, and came hurrying in to greet him.
+
+"Thank you for your hearty welcome," said the captain, hurriedly; "but
+where's my daughter? Is she out of doors this cold winter day, gadding
+about London streets?--or how the deuce is it she doesn't come to give
+her old father a kiss, and bid him welcome home?"
+
+"Lor', sir," cried Mrs. Mugby, "you don't mean to say as you haven't
+heard from Miss Rosa--begging your pardon, Mrs. Jernam--but the other
+do come so much more natural?"
+
+"Heard from her!" exclaimed the captain. "Not I, I haven't had a line
+from her. But heaven have mercy on us! how the woman does stare! There
+isn't anything wrong with my daughter, is there? She's well--eh?"
+
+The captain's honest face grew pale, as a sudden fear arose in his
+mind.
+
+"Don't tell me my daughter is ill," he gasped; "or worse--"
+
+"No, no, no, captain," cried Mrs. Mugby. "I heard from Mrs. Jernam only
+a week ago, and she was quite well; but she is residing down in
+Devonshire, where she removed with her husband last July; and I made
+sure you would have received a letter telling you of the change."
+
+"What!" roared Joseph Duncombe; "did my daughter go and turn her back
+upon the comfortable little box her father built for her--the place he
+spent his hard-won earnings upon for her sake? So Rosy got tired of the
+cottage, did she? It wasn't good enough for her, I suppose. Well, well,
+that does seem rather hard somehow--it does seem hard."
+
+The captain dropped heavily down into the chair nearest him. He was
+deeply wounded by the idea that his daughter had deserted the home
+which he had made for her.
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir," interposed Mrs. Mugby, in her most
+insinuating tone, "which I am well aware it's not my place to interfere
+in family matters; but knowing as devotion itself is a word not strong
+enough to express Mrs. Jernam's feelings for her pa, I cannot stand by
+and see her misunderstood by that very pa. It was no doings of hers as
+she left River View, Captain Buncombe, for the place was very dear to
+her; but Captain Jernam, he took it into his head all of a sudden he'd
+set off for foreign parts in his ship the 'Albert's horse'; and before
+he went, he insisted on taking Mrs. Jernam down to Devonshire, which
+burying her alive would be too mild a word for such cruelty, I think."
+
+"What! he deserted his post, did he?" exclaimed the captain. "Ran away
+from his pretty young wife, after promising to stop with her till I
+came back! Now, I don't call that an honest man's conduct," added the
+captain, indignantly.
+
+"No more would any one, sir," answered the housekeeper. "A wild, roving
+life is all very well in its way, but if a man who is just married to a
+pretty young wife, that worships the very ground he walks on, can't
+stay at home quiet, I should like to know who can?"
+
+"So he went to sea himself, and took his wife down to Devonshire before
+he sailed, eh?" said the captain. "Very fine goings on, upon my word!
+And did Miss Rosy consent to leave her father's home without a murmur?"
+he asked, angrily.
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir," pleaded Mrs. Mugby, "Miss Rosamond was not
+the one to murmur before servants, whatever she might feel in her
+heart. I overheard her crying and sobbing dreadful one night, poor
+dear, when she little thought as there was any one to overhear her."
+
+"Did she say anything to you before she left?"
+
+"Not till the night before she went away, and then she came to me in my
+kitchen, and said, 'Mrs. Mugby, it's my husband's wish I should go down
+to Devonshire and live there, while he's away with his ship. Of course,
+I am very sorry to leave the house that my dear father made such a
+happy home for me, and in which he and I lived so peaceably together;
+but I am bound to obey my husband, let him ask what he will. I shall
+write to my dear father, and tell him how sorry I am to leave my
+home.'"
+
+"Did she say that?" said the captain, evidently touched by this proof
+of his child's affection. "Then I won't belie her so much as to doubt
+her love for me. I never got her letter; and why George Jernam should
+kick up his heels directly I was gone, and be off with his ship
+goodness knows where, is more than I can tell. I begin to think the
+best sailor that ever roamed the seas is a bad bargain for a husband.
+I'm sorry I ever let my girl marry a rover. However, I'll just settle
+my business in London, and be off to Devonshire to see my poor little
+deserted Rosy. I suppose she's gone to live at that sea-coast village
+where Jernam's aunt lives?"
+
+"Yes, sir, Allandale--or Allanbay--or some such name, I think, they
+call the place."
+
+"Yes, Allanbay--I remember," answered the captain. "I'll try and get
+through the business I've got on hand to-night, and be off to
+Devonshire to-morrow."
+
+Mrs. Mugby exerted herself to the uttermost in her endeavour to make
+the captain's first dinner at home a great culinary triumph, but the
+disappointment he had experienced that morning had quite taken away his
+appetite. He had anticipated such delight from his unannounced return
+to River View Cottage; he had pictured to himself his daughter's
+rapturous welcome; he had fancied her rushing to greet him at the first
+sound of his voice; and had almost felt her soft arm clasped around his
+neck, her kisses on his face.
+
+Instead of the realization of this bright dream, he had found only
+disappointment.
+
+Susan Trott placed the materials for the captain's favourite punch upon
+the table after she had removed the cloth; but Joseph Duncombe did not
+appear to see the cherry preparations for a comfortable evening. He
+rose hastily from his chair, put on his hat, and went out, much to the
+discomfiture of the worthy Mrs. Mugby.
+
+"After what I went through with standing over that roaring furnace of a
+kitchen-range, it does seem hard to see my sole just turned over and
+played with, like, and my chicking not so much as touched," said the
+dame. "Oh, Miss Rosamond, Miss Rosamond, you've a deal to answer for!"
+
+Captain Duncombe walked along the dark road between the cottage and
+Ratcliff Highway at a rapid pace. He soon reached the flaring lights of
+the sailors' quarter, through which he made his way as fast as he could
+to a respectable and comfortable little tavern near the Tower, much
+frequented by officers of the merchant service.
+
+He had promised to meet an old shipmate at this house, and was very
+glad of an excuse for spending his evening away from home.
+
+In the little parlour he found the friend he expected to see, and the
+two sailors took their glasses of grog together in a very friendly
+manner, and then parted, the captain's friend going away first, as he
+had a long distance to walk, in order to reach his suburban home.
+
+The captain was sitting by the fire meditating, and sipping his last
+glass of grog, when the door was opened, and some one came into the
+room.
+
+Joseph Duncombe looked up with a start as the new-comer entered, and,
+to his intense astonishment, recognized George Jernam.
+
+"Jernam!" he cried; "you in London? Well, this is the greatest surprise
+of all."
+
+"Indeed, Captain Duncombe," answered the other, coolly; "the
+'Albatross' only entered the port of London this afternoon. This is the
+first place I have come to, and of all men on earth I least expected to
+meet you here."
+
+"And from your tone, youngster, it seems as if the surprise were by no
+means a pleasant one," cried Joseph Duncombe. "May I ask how Rosamond
+Duncombe's husband comes to address his wife's father in the tone you
+have just used to me?"
+
+"You are Rosamond's father," answered George; "that is sufficient
+reason that Valentine Jernam's brother should keep aloof from you."
+
+"The man's mad," muttered Captain Duncombe; "undoubtedly mad."
+
+"No," answered George Jernam, "I am not mad--I am only too acutely
+conscious of the misery of my position. I love your daughter, Joseph
+Duncombe; love her as fondly and truly as ever a man loved the wife of
+his choice. And yet here am I skulking in London, alone and miserable,
+at the hour when I should be hurrying back to the home of my darling.
+Dear though she is to me--truly as I love her--I dare not go back to
+her; for between her and me there rises the phantom of my murdered
+brother Valentine!"
+
+"What on earth has my daughter Rosamond to do with the wretched fate of
+your brother?" asked the captain.
+
+"In her own person, nothing; but it is her misfortune to be allied to
+one who was in league with the assassin, or assassins, of my unhappy
+brother."
+
+"What, in heaven's name, do you mean?" asked the bewildered captain of
+the "Vixen."
+
+"Do not press me for my meaning, Captain Duncombe," answered George, in
+a repellant tone; "you are my father-in-law. The knowledge which
+accident revealed to me of one dark secret in your life of seeming
+honesty came too late to prevent that tie between us. When the fatal
+truth revealed itself to me I was already your daughter's husband. That
+secures my silence. Do not force yourself upon me. I shall do my duty
+to your daughter as if you and your crime had never been upon this
+earth. But you and I can never meet again except as foes. The
+remembrance of my brother Valentine is part and parcel of my life, and
+a wrong done to him is twice a wrong to myself."
+
+The captain of the "Vixen" had arisen from his chair. He stood before
+his son-in-law, breathless, crimson with passion.
+
+"George Jernam," he cried, "do you want me to knock you down? Egad, my
+fine gentleman, you may consider yourself lucky that I have not done it
+before this. What do you mean by all that balderdash you've been
+talking? What does it all mean, I say? Are you drunk, or mad, or both?"
+
+"Captain Duncombe," said George, calmly, "do you really wish me to
+speak plainly?"
+
+"It will be very much the worse for you if you don't," retorted the
+infuriated captain.
+
+"First, then, let me tell you that before I left River View Cottage
+last July, your daughter pressed me to avail myself of the contents of
+your desk one day when I was in want of foreign letter-paper."
+
+"Well, what then?"
+
+"Very much against my own inclination, I consented to open that desk
+with a key in Rosamond's possession. I did not pry into the secrets of
+its contents; but before me, in the tray intended for pens, I saw an
+object which could not fail to attract my attention--which riveted my
+gaze as surely as if I had 'lighted on a snake."
+
+"What in the name of all that's bewildering could that object have
+been?" cried the captain. "I don't keep many curiosities in my writing-
+desk!"
+
+"I will show you what I found that day," answered George. "The finding
+of it changed the whole current of my life, and sent me away from that
+once happy home a restless and miserable wanderer."
+
+"The man's mad," muttered Captain Duncombe to himself; "he must be
+mad!"
+
+George Jernam took from his waistcoat pocket a tiny parcel, and
+unfolding the paper covering, revealed a gold coin--the bent Brazilian
+coin--which he placed in the captain's hands.
+
+"Why! heaven have mercy on us!" cried Joseph Duncombe, "if that isn't
+the ghost's money!"
+
+There was astonishment plainly depicted on his countenance; but no look
+of guilt. George Jernam watched his face as he contemplated the token,
+and saw that it was not the face of a guilty man.
+
+"Oh, captain, captain!" he exclaimed, remorsefully, "if I have
+suspected you all this time for nothing?"
+
+"Suspected me of what?"
+
+"Of being concerned, more or less, in my brother's murder. That piece
+of gold which you now hold in your hand was a farewell token, given by
+me to him; you may see my initials scratched upon it. I found it in
+your desk."
+
+"And therefore suspected that I was the aider and abettor of thieves
+and murderers!" exclaimed the captain of the "Vixen." "George Jernam, I
+am ashamed of you."
+
+There was a depth of reproach in the words, common-place though they
+were.
+
+George Jernam covered his face with his hands, and sat with bent head
+before the man he had so cruelly wronged.
+
+"If I was a proud man," said Joseph Duncombe, "I shouldn't stoop to
+make any explanation to you. But as I am not a proud man, and as you
+are my daughter's husband, I'll tell you how that bit of gold came into
+my keeping; and when I've told you my story, I'll bring witnesses to
+prove that it's true. Yes, George, I'll not ask you to believe my word;
+for how can you take the word of a man you have thought base enough to
+be the accomplice of a murderer? Oh, George, it was too cruel--too
+cruel!"
+
+There was a brief silence; and then Captain Duncombe told the story of
+the appearance of old Screwton's ghost, and the coin found in the
+kitchen at River View Cottage after the departure of that apparition.
+
+"I've faced many a danger in my lifetime, George Jernam," said Captain
+Duncombe; "and I don't think there's any man who ever walked the ship's
+deck beside me that would call me coward; and yet I'll confess to you I
+was frightened that night. Flesh and blood I'll face anywhere and
+anyhow; I'll stand up alone, and fight for my life, one against six--
+one against twenty, if needs be; but when it comes to a visit from the
+other world, Joseph Duncombe is done. He shuts up, sir, like an
+oyster."
+
+"And do you really believe the man you saw that night was a visitant
+from the other world?"
+
+"What else can I believe? I'd heard the description of old Screwton's
+ghost, and what I saw answered to the description as close as could
+be."
+
+"Visitors from the other world do not leave substantial evidences of
+their presence behind them," answered George. "The man who dropped that
+gold coin was no ghost. We'll see into this business, Captain Duncombe;
+we'll fathom it, mysterious as it is. I expect Joyce Harker back from
+Ceylon in a month or so. He knows more of my brother's fate than any
+man living, except those who were concerned in the doing of the deed.
+He'll get to the bottom of this business, depend upon it, if any man
+can. And now, friend--father, can you find it in your heart to forgive
+me for the bitter wrong I have done you?"
+
+"Well, George," answered Joseph Duncombe, gravely, "I'm not an
+unforgiving chap; but there are some things try the easiest of men
+rather hard, and this is one of them. However, for my little Rosy's
+sake, and out of remembrance of the long night-watches you and I have
+kept together out upon the lonesome sea, I forgive you. There's my hand
+and my heart with it."
+
+George's eyes were full of tears as he grasped his old captain's strong
+hand.
+
+"God bless you," he murmured; "and heaven be praised that I came into
+this room to-night! You don't know the weight you've lifted off my
+heart; you don't know what I've suffered."
+
+"More fool you," cried Joe Duncombe; "and now say no more. We'll start
+for Devonshire together by the first coach that leaves London to-morrow
+morning."
+
+       *       *       *       *        *
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+
+                      "TREASON HAS DONE HIS WORST."
+
+Black Milsom, otherwise Mr. Maunders, kept a close watch on Raynham
+Castle, through the agency of his friend, James Harwood, whose visits
+he encouraged by the most liberal treatment, and for whom he was always
+ready to brew a steaming jorum of punch.
+
+Mr. Maunders showed a great deal of curiosity concerning the details of
+life within the castle, and was particularly fond of leading Harwood to
+talk about the excessive care taken of the baby-heiress, and the
+precautions observed by Lady Eversleigh's orders. One day, when he had
+led the conversation in the accustomed direction, he said:
+
+"One would think they were afraid somebody would try to steal the
+child."
+
+"So you would, Mr. Maunders. But you see every situation in life has
+its trials, and a child can't be a great heiress for nothing. One day,
+when I was sitting in the rumble of the open carriage, I heard Captain
+Copplestone let drop in his conversation with Mrs. Morden as how the
+child has enemies--bitter enemies, he said, as might try to do her
+harm, if she wern't looked after sharp."
+
+"I've known you a good long time now, Mr. Harwood, and you've partaken
+of many a glass of rum-punch in my parlour," said Black Milsom,
+otherwise Mr. Maunders, of the "Cat and Fiddle "; "and in all that time
+you've never once offered to introduce me to one of your fellow-
+servants, or asked me to take so much as a cup of tea in your
+servants'-hall."
+
+"Begging your pardon, Mr. Maunders," said the groom, in an insinuating
+tone; "as to askin' a friend to take a cup of tea, or a little bit of
+supper, without leave from Mrs. Smithson, the housekeeper, is more than
+my place is worth."
+
+"But you might get leave I should think, eh, James Harwood?" returned
+Milsom; "especially if your friend happened to be a respectable
+householder, and able to offer a comfortable glass to any of your
+fellow-servants."
+
+"I'm sure if I had thought as you'd accept a invitation to the
+servants'-'all, I'd have asked leave before now," replied James
+Harwood; "but I'm sure I thought as you wouldn't demean yourself to
+take your glass of ale, or your cup of tea, any-wheres below the
+housekeeper's room--and she's a rare starched one is Mrs. Smithson."
+
+"I'm not proud," said Mr. Milsom. "I like a convivial evening, whether
+it's in the housekeeper's room or the servants'-hall."
+
+"Then I'll ask leave to-night," answered James Harwood.
+
+He sent a little scrawl to Milsom next day, by the hands of a stable-
+boy, inviting that gentleman to a social rubber and a friendly supper
+in the servants'-hall that evening at seven o'clock.
+
+To spend a few hours inside Raynham Castle was the privilege which
+Black Milsom most desired, and a triumphant grin broke out upon his
+face, as he deciphered James Harwood's clumsy scrawl.
+
+"How easy it's done," he muttered to himself; "how easy it's done, if a
+man has only the patience to wait."
+
+The servants'-hall was a pleasant place to live in, but if Mrs.
+Smithson, the housekeeper, was liberal in her ideas she was also
+strict, and on some points especially severe; and the chief of these
+was the precision with which she required the doors of the castle to be
+locked for the night at half-past ten o'clock.
+
+On more than one occasion, lately, Mrs. Smithson had a suspicion that
+there was one offender against this rule. The offender in question was
+Matthew Brook, the head-coachman, a jovial, burly Briton, with
+convivial habits and a taste for politics, who preferred enjoying his
+pipe and glass and political discussion in the parlour of the "Hen and
+Chickens" public-house to spending his evenings in the servants'-hall
+at Raynham Castle.
+
+He was rarely home before ten; sometimes not until half-past ten; and
+one never-to-be-forgotten night, Mrs. Smithson had heard him, with her
+own ears, enter the doors of the castle at the unholy hour of twenty
+minutes to eleven!
+
+There was one appalling fact of which Mrs. Smithson was entirely
+ignorant. And that was the fact that Matthew Brook had entered the
+castle by a little half-glass door on several occasions, half an hour
+or more after the great oaken door leading into the servants'-hall had
+been bolted and barred with all due solemnity before the approving eyes
+of the housekeeper herself.
+
+The little door in question opened into a small ground-floor bed-room,
+in which one of the footmen slept; and nothing was more easy than for
+this man to shelter the nightly misdoings of his fellow-servant by
+letting him slip quietly through his bedroom, unknown to any member of
+the household.
+
+James Harwood, the groom was a confirmed gossip; and, of course, he had
+not failed to inform his friend, Mr. Maunders, otherwise Black Milsom,
+of Matthew Brook's little delinquencies. Mr. Maunders listened to the
+account with interest, as he did to everything relating to affairs in
+the household of which Harwood was a member.
+
+It was some little time after this conversation that Mr. Milsom was
+invited to sup at the castle.
+
+Several friendly rubbers were played by Mrs. Trimmer, the cook; Matthew
+Brook, the coachman; James Harwood, and Thomas Milsom, known to the
+company as Mr. Maunders. Honest Matthew and he were partners; and it
+was to be observed, by any one who had taken the trouble to watch the
+party, that Milsom paid more attention to his partner than to his
+cards, whereby he lost the opportunity of distinguishing himself as a
+good whist-player.
+
+The whist-party broke up while the cloth was being laid on a large
+table for supper, and the men adjourned to the noble old stone
+quadrangle, on which the servant's-hall abutted. James Harwood, Brook,
+Milsom, and two of the footmen strolled up and down, smoking under a
+cold starlit sky. The apartments occupied by the family were all on the
+garden front, and the smoking of tobacco in the quadrangle was not
+forbidden.
+
+Milsom, who had until this time devoted his attention exclusively to
+the coachman, now contrived to place himself next to James Harwood, as
+the party paced to and fro before the servants' quarters.
+
+"Which is the little door Brook slips in at when he's past his time?"
+he asked, carelessly, of Harwood, taking care, however, to drop his
+voice to a whisper.
+
+"We're just coming to it," answered the groom; "that little glass door
+on my right hand. Steph's a good-natured fellow, and always leaves his
+door unfastened when old Mat is out late. The room he sleeps in was
+once a lobby, and opens into the passage; so it comes very convenient
+to Brook. Everybody likes old Mat Brook, you see; and there isn't one
+amongst us would peach if he got into trouble."
+
+"And a jolly old chap he is as ever lived," answered Black Milsom, who
+seemed to have taken a wonderful fancy to the convivial coachman.
+
+"You come down to my place whenever you like, Mr. Brook," he said,
+presently, putting his arm through that of the coachman, in a very
+friendly manner. "You shall be free and welcome to everything I've got
+in my house. And I know how to brew a decent jorum of punch when I give
+my mind to it, don't I, Jim?"
+
+Mr. James Harwood protested that no one else could brew such punch as
+that concocted by the landlord of the "Cat and Fiddle."
+
+The supper was a very cheery banquet; ponderous slices of underdone
+roast beef disappeared as if by magic, and the consumption of pickles,
+from a physiological or sanitary point of view, positively appalling.
+After the beef and pickles came a Titanic cheese and a small stack of
+celery; while the brown beer pitcher went so often to the barrel that
+it is a matter of wonder that it escaped unbroken.
+
+At a quarter past ten Mr. Maunders bade his new acquaintance good
+night; but before departing he begged, as a great favour, to be
+permitted one peep at the grand oak hall.
+
+"You shall see it," cried good-natured Matthew Brook. "It's a sight
+worth coming many a mile to see. Step this way."
+
+He led the way along a dark passage to a door that opened into the
+great entrance-hall. It was indeed a noble chamber. Black Milsom stood
+for some moments contemplating it in silence, with a reverential stare.
+
+"And which may be the back staircase, leading to the little lady's
+rooms?" he asked, presently.
+
+"That door opens on to the foot of it," replied the coachman. "Captain
+Coppletone sleeps in the room you come to first, on the first floor;
+and the little missy's rooms are inside his'n."
+
+Gertrude Eversleigh, the heiress of Raynham, was one of those lovely
+and caressing children who win the hearts of all around them, and in
+whose presence there is a charm as sweet as that which lurks in the
+beauty of a flower or the song of a bird. Her mother idolized her, as
+we know, even though she could resign herself to a separation from this
+loved child, sacrificing affection to the all-absorbing purpose of her
+life. Before leaving Raynham Castle, Honoria had summoned the one only
+friend upon whom she could rely--Captain Copplestone--the man whose
+testimony alone had saved her from the hideous suspicion of murder--the
+man who had boldly declared his belief in her innocence.
+
+She wrote to him, telling him that she had need of his friendship for
+the only child of his dead friend, Sir Oswald; and he came promptly in
+answer to her summons, pleased at the idea of seeing the child of his
+old comrade.
+
+He had read the announcement of the child's birth in the newspapers,
+and had rejoiced to find that Providence had sent a consolation to the
+widow in her hour of desolation.
+
+"She is like her father," he said, softly, after he had taken the child
+in his arms, and pressed his shaggy moustache to her pure young brow."
+Yes, the child is like my old comrade, Oswald Eversleigh. She has your
+beauty, too, Lady Eversleigh, your dark eyes--those wonderful eyes,
+which my friend loved to praise."
+
+"I wish to heaven that he had never seen them!" exclaimed Honoria;
+"they brought him only evil fortune--anguish--untimely death."
+
+"Come, come!" cried the captain, cheerily; "this won't do. If the
+workings of two villains brought about a breach between you and my poor
+friend, and resulted in his untimely end, the sin rests on their guilty
+heads, not on yours."
+
+"And the sin shall not go unpunished even upon this earth!" exclaimed
+Honoria, with intensity of feeling. "I only live for one purpose,
+Captain Copplestone, and that is to strip the masks from the faces of
+the two hypocrites and traitors, who, between them, compassed my
+disgrace and my husband's death; and I implore you to aid me in the
+carrying out of my purpose."
+
+"How can I do that?" cried the captain. "When I begged you to let me
+challenge that scoundrel, Carrington, and fight him--in spite of our
+cowardly modern fashion, which has exploded duelling--you implored me
+not to hazard my life. I was your only friend, you told me, and if my
+life were sacrificed you would be helpless and friendless. I gave way
+in order to satisfy you, though I should have liked to send a bullet
+through that French scoundrel's plotting brains."
+
+"And I thank you for your goodness," answered Lady Eversleigh. "It is
+not by the bullet of a brave soldier that Victor Carrington should die.
+I will pursue the two villains silently, stealthily, as they pursued
+me; and when the hour of my triumph comes, it shall be a real triumph,
+not a defeat like that which ended their scheming. But if I stoop to
+wear a mask, I ask no such service from you, Captain Copplestone. I ask
+you only to take up your abode in this house, and to protect my child
+while I am away from home."
+
+"You are really going to leave home?"
+
+"For a considerable time."
+
+"And you will tell me nothing about the nature of your schemes?"
+
+"Nothing. I shall do no wrong; though I am about to deal with men so
+base that the common laws of honour can scarcely apply to any dealings
+with them."
+
+"And your mind is set upon this strange scheme?"
+
+"My mind is fixed. Nothing on earth can alter my resolution--not even
+my love for this child."
+
+Captain Copplestone saw that her determination was not to be reasoned
+away, and he made no further attempt to shake her resolve. He promised
+that, during her absence from the castle, he would guard Sir Oswald's
+daughter, and cherish her as tenderly as if she had been his own child.
+
+It was by the captain's advice that Mrs. Morden was engaged to act as
+governess to the young heiress during her mother's absence. She was the
+widow of one of his brother-officers--a highly accomplished woman, and
+a woman of conscientious feelings and high principle.
+
+"Never had any creature more need of your protection than my child
+has," said Honoria. "This young life and mine are the sole obstacles
+that stand between Sir Reginald Eversleigh and fortune. You know what
+baseness and treachery he and his ally are capable of committing. You
+cannot, therefore, wonder if I imagine all kinds of dangers for my
+darling."
+
+"No," replied the captain; "I can only wonder that you consent to leave
+her."
+
+"Ah, you do not understand. Can you not see that, so long as those two
+men exist, their crimes undiscovered, their real nature unsuspected in
+the world in which they live, there is perpetual danger for my child?
+The task which I have set myself is the task of watching these two men;
+and I will do it without flinching. When the hour of retribution
+approaches, I may need your aid; but till then let me do my work alone,
+and in secret."
+
+This was the utmost that Lady Eversleigh told Captain Copplestone
+respecting the motive of her absence from the castle. She placed her
+child in his care, trusting in him, under Providence, for the
+guardianship of that innocent life; and then she tore herself away.
+
+Nothing could exceed the care which the veteran soldier bestowed upon
+his youthful charge.
+
+It may be imagined, therefore, that nothing short of absolute necessity
+would have induced him to leave the neighbourhood of Raynham during the
+absence of Lady Eversleigh.
+
+Unhappily this necessity arose. Within a fortnight after the night on
+which Black Milsom had been invited to supper in the servants'-hall,
+Captain Copplestone quitted Raynham Castle for an indefinite period,
+for the first time since Lady Eversleigh's departure.
+
+He was seated at breakfast in the pretty sitting-room in the south
+wing, which he occupied in common with the heiress and her governess,
+when a letter was brought to him by one of the castle servants.
+
+"Ben Simmons has just brought this up from the 'Hen and Chickens,'
+sir," said the man. "It came by the mail-coach that passes through
+Raynham at six o'clock in the morning."
+
+Captain Copplestone gazed at the superscription of the letter with
+considerable surprise. The handwriting was that of Lady Eversleigh, and
+the letter was marked _Immediate and important_.
+
+In those days there was no electric telegraph; and a letter conveyed
+thus had pretty much the same effect upon the captain's mind that a
+telegram would now-a-days exercise. It was something special--out of
+the common rule. He tore open the missive hastily. It contained only a
+few lines in Honoria's hand; but the hand was uncertain, and the letter
+scrawled and blotted, as if written in extreme haste and agitation of
+mind.
+
+"_Come to me at once, I entreat. I have immediate need of your help.
+Pray come, my dear friend. I shall not detain you long. Let the child
+remain in the castle during your absence. She will be safe with Mrs.
+Morden_.
+
+"_Clarendon Hotel, London_."
+
+This, and the date, was all.
+
+Captain Copplestone sat for some moments staring at this document with
+a look of unmitigated perplexity.
+
+"I can't make it out," he muttered to himself.
+
+Presently he said aloud to Mrs. Morden--
+
+"What a pity it is you women all write so much alike that it's
+uncommonly difficult to swear to your writing. I'm perplexed by this
+letter. I can't quite understand being summoned away from my pet. I
+think you know Lady Eversleigh's hand?"
+
+"Yes," answered the lady; "I received two letters from her before
+coming here. I could scarcely be mistaken in her handwriting."
+
+"You think not? Very well, then, please tell me if that is her hand,"
+said the captain showing Mrs. Morden the address of the missive he had
+just received.
+
+"I should say decidedly, yes, that is her hand."
+
+"Humph!" muttered the captain; "she said something about wanting me
+when the hour of retribution drew near. Perhaps she has succeeded in
+her schemes more rapidly than she expected, and the time is come."
+
+The little girl had just quitted the room with her nurse, to be dressed
+for her morning run in the gardens. Mrs. Morden and the captain were
+alone.
+
+"Lady Eversleigh asks me to go up to London," he said, at last; "and I
+suppose I must do what she wishes. But, upon my word, I've watched over
+little Gertrude so closely, and I've grown so foolishly fond of her,
+that I don't like the idea of leaving her, even for twenty-four hours,
+though, of course, I know I leave her in the best possible care."
+
+"What danger can approach her here?"
+
+"Ah; what danger, indeed!" returned the captain, thoughtfully. "Within
+these walls she must be secure."
+
+"The child shall not leave the castle, nor shall she quit my sight
+during your absence," said Mrs. Morden. "But I hope you will not stay
+away long."
+
+"Rely upon it that I shall not remain away an hour longer than
+necessary," answered the captain.
+
+An hour afterwards he departed from Raynham in a post-chaise.
+
+He left without having taken any farewell of Gertrude Eversleigh. He
+could not trust himself to see her.
+
+This grim, weather-beaten old soldier had surrendered his heart
+entirely to the child of his dead friend. He travelled Londonwards as
+fast as continual relays of post-horses could convey him; and on the
+morning after he had received the letter from Lady Eversleigh, a post-
+chaise covered with the dust of the roads, rattled up to the Clarendon
+Hotel, and the traveller sprang out, after a sleepless night of
+impatience and anxiety.
+
+"Show me to Lady Eversleigh's rooms at once," he said to one of the
+servants in the hall.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "what name did you say?"
+
+"Lady Eversleigh--Eversleigh--a widow-lady, staying in this house."
+
+"There must be some mistake, sir. There is no one of that name at
+present staying in the hotel," answered the man.
+
+The housekeeper had emerged from a little sitting-room, and had
+overheard this conversation.
+
+"No, sir," she said, "we have no one here of that name."
+
+Captain Copplestone's dark face grew deadly pale.
+
+"A trap!" he muttered to himself; "a snare! That letter was a forgery!"
+
+And without a word to the people of the house, he darted back to the
+street, sprang into the chaise, crying to the postillions,
+
+"Don't lose a minute in getting a change of horses. I am going back to
+Yorkshire."
+
+The intimacy with the household of Raynham Castle, begun by Mr.
+Maunders at the supper in the servants'-hall, strengthened as time went
+by, and there was no member of the castle household for whom Mr.
+Maunders entertained so warm a friendship as that which he felt for
+Matthew Brook, the coachman. Matthew began to divide his custom between
+the rival taverns of Raynham, spending an evening occasionally at the
+"Cat and Fiddle," and appearing to enjoy himself very much at that
+Inferior hostelry.
+
+About a fortnight had elapsed after the comfortable supper-party at the
+castle, when Mr. Milsom took it into his head to make a formal return
+for the hospitalities he had received on that occasion.
+
+It happened that the evening chosen for this humble but comfortable
+entertainment was the evening after Captain Copplestone's departure
+from the castle.
+
+The supper was well cooked, and neatly placed on the table. A foaming
+tankard of ale flanked the large dish of hissing steaks; and the
+gentlemen from the castle set to work with a good will to do justice to
+Mr. Maunders's entertainment.
+
+When the table had been cleared of all except a bowl of punch and a
+tray of glasses, it is scarcely a matter for wonder if the quartette
+had grown rather noisy, with a tendency to become still louder in its
+mirth with every glass of Mr. Milsom's excellent compound.
+
+They were enjoying themselves as much as it is in the power of human
+nature to enjoy itself; they had proposed all manner of toasts, and had
+drunk them with cheers, and the mirth was at its loudest when the clock
+of the village church boomed out solemnly upon the stillness of night,
+and tolled the hour of ten.
+
+The three men staggered hastily to their feet.
+
+"We must be off, Maunders, old fellow," said the coachman, with a
+certain thickness of utterance.
+
+"Right you are, Mat," answered Stephen. "You've had quite enough of
+that 'ere liquor, and so have we all. Good night, Mr. Maunders, and
+thank you kindly for a jolly evening. Come, Jim. Come, Mat, old boy--
+off we go!"
+
+"No, no," cried Mr. Maunders, the hospitable; "I'm not a-going to let
+Matthew Brook leave my house at ten o'clock when he can stay as long as
+he likes. You and he beat me at whist, but I mean to be even with him
+at cribbage. We'll have a friendly hand and a friendly glass, and I'll
+see him as far as the gates afterwards. You'll let him in, Plumpton,
+come when he will, I know. If he can stay over his time at the other
+house, he can stay over his time with me. Come, Brook, you won't say
+no, will you, to a friend?" asked Milsom.
+
+Matthew Brook looked at Mr. Milsom, and at his fellow-servants, in a
+stupid half-drunken manner, and rubbed his big head thoughtfully with
+his big hand.
+
+"I'm blest if I know what to do," he said; "I've promised Stephen I
+wouldn't stay out after time again--and--"
+
+"Not as a rule, perhaps," answered Mr. Milsom; "but once in a way can't
+make any difference, I'm sure, and Stephen Plumpton is the last to be
+ill-natured."
+
+"That I am," replied the good-tempered footman. "Stay, if you like to
+stay, Mat. I'll leave my door unfastened, and welcome."
+
+On this, the two other men took a friendly leave of their host and
+departed, walking through the village street with legs that were not by
+any means too steady.
+
+There was a triumphant grin upon Mr. Milsom's face as he shut the door
+on these two departing guests.
+
+"Good night, and a good riddance to you," he muttered; "and now for
+Matthew Brook. You'll sleep sound enough to-night, Stephen Plumpton,
+I'll warrant. So sound that if Old Nick himself went through your room
+you'd scarcely be much wiser."
+
+He went back to the little parlour in which he had left his guest, the
+coachman. As he went, he slipped his forefinger and thumb into his
+waistcoat pocket, where they closed upon a tiny phial. It contained a
+pennyworth of laudanum, which he had purchased a week or so before from
+the Raynham chemist, as a remedy for the toothache.
+
+Here he found Matthew Brook seated with his arms folded on the table,
+and his eyes fixed on the cribbage-board with that stolid, unseeing
+gaze peculiar to drunkenness.
+
+"He's pretty far gone, as it is," Mr. Milsom thought to himself, as he
+looked at his guest; "it won't take much to send him further. Take
+another glass of punch before we begin, eh, Brook?" he asked, in that
+tone of jolly good-fellowship which had made him so agreeable to the
+castle servants.
+
+"So I will," cried Matthew; "'nother glass--punish the punch--eh--old
+boy? We'll punish glass--'nother punch--hand cribbage--glorious
+evenin'--uproarious--happy--glorious--God save--'nother glass."
+
+While Mr. Brook attempted to shuffle the cards, dropping them half
+under the table during the process, Black Milsom moved the bowl and
+glasses to a table behind the coachman's back.
+
+Here he filled a glass for Mr. Brook, which the coachman emptied at a
+draught; but after having done so he made a wry face, and looked
+reproachfully at his host.
+
+"What the deuce was that you gave me?" he asked, with some indignation.
+
+"What should it be but rum-punch?" answered Milsom; "the same as you've
+been drinking all the evening."
+
+"I'll be hanged if it is," answered Mr. Brook; "you've been playing off
+some of your publican's tricks upon me, Mr. Maunders, pouring the dregs
+of some stale porter into the bowl, or something of that kind. Don't
+you do it again. I'm a 'ver goo'-temper' chap, ber th' man tha'
+takes--hic--libert' with--hic--once don't take--hic--libert' with m'
+twice. So, don't y' do that 'gen!"
+
+This was said with tipsy solemnity; and then Mr. Brook made another
+effort to shuffle the cards, and stooped a great many times to pick up
+some of those he had dropped, but seemed never to succeed in picking up
+all of them.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Maunders," he said, at last; "I'm getting an
+old man; my sight isn't what it used to be. I'm bless' if--can tell a
+king from--queen."
+
+Before he could complete the shuffling of the cards to his own
+satisfaction, Mr. Brook's eyelids began to droop over his watery eyes,
+and all at once his head fell forward on the table, amongst the
+scattered cards, his hair flopping against a fallen candlestick and
+smoking tallow candle.
+
+Mr. Milsom's air of jolly good-fellowship disappeared: he sprang up
+suddenly, went to his friend, and shook him, rather roughly for such
+friendship.
+
+Matthew snored a little louder, but slept on.
+
+"He's fast as a rock," muttered Black Milsom; "but I must wait till
+it's likely Stephen Plumpton will be as sound asleep as this one."
+
+Mr. Milsom went to his kitchen and ordered his only servant--a sturdy
+young native of the village--to go off to bed at once.
+
+"I've got a friend in the parlour: but I'll see him out myself when he
+goes," said Mr. Milsom. "You pack off to bed as soon as you've put out
+the lights in the bar, and shut the back-door."
+
+Mr. Milsom then returned to the apartment where his sleeping guest
+reposed.
+
+The coachman's capacious overcoat hung on a chair near where its owner
+slept.
+
+Mr. Milsom deliberately put on this coat, and the hat which Mr. Brook
+had worn with it. There was a thick woollen scarf of the coachman's
+lying on the floor near the chair, and this Black Milsom also put on,
+twisting it several times round his neck, so as to completely muffle
+the lower part of his face.
+
+He was of about the same height as Matthew, and the thick coat gave him
+bulk.
+
+Thus attired he might, in an uncertain light, have been very easily
+mistaken for the man whose clothes he wore.
+
+Mr. Milsom gave one last scrutinizing look at the sleeping coachman,
+and then extinguished the candle.
+
+The fire he had allowed to die out while he sat smoking: the room was,
+therefore, now in perfect darkness.
+
+He paused by the door to look about him. All was alike still and
+lonely. The village street could have been no more silent and empty if
+the two rows of houses had been so many vaults in a cemetery.
+
+Black Milsom walked rapidly up the village street, and entered the
+gardens of the castle by a little iron gate, of which Matthew Brook,
+the reprobate and offender, had a key. This key Black Milsom had often
+heard of, and knew that it was always carried by Brook in a small
+breast-pocket of his overcoat.
+
+From the garden he made his way quickly, silently, to the quadrangle on
+which Stephen Plumpton's bed-chamber opened.
+
+Here all was dark and silent.
+
+Milsom went straight to the little half-glass door which served both as
+door and window for the small sleeping-chamber of Stephen Plumpton.
+
+He opened this door with a cautious hand, and stepped softly into the
+room. Stephen lay with his head half covered with the bed-clothes, and
+his loud snoring resounded through the chamber.
+
+"The rum-punch has done the trick for you, my friend," Mr. Milsom said
+to himself.
+
+He crossed the room with slow and stealthy footsteps, opened the door
+communicating with the rest of the house, and went along the passage
+leading to the hall.
+
+With cautious steps he groped his way to the door opening on the
+secondary staircase, and ascended the thickly carpeted staircase
+within.
+
+Here a lamp was left dimly burning all night, and this lamp showed him
+another cloth-covered door at the top of the first flight of stairs.
+
+Black Milsom tried this door, and found it also unfastened.
+
+This door, which Black Milsom opened, communicated with the little
+passage that had been made across the room usually tenanted by Captain
+Copplestone. Within this room there was a still smaller chamber--little
+more, indeed, than a spacious closet--in which slept the faithful old
+servant, Solomon Grundy.
+
+Both the doors were open, and Black Milsom heard the heavy breathing of
+the old man--the breathing of a sound sleeper.
+
+Beyond the short passage was the door opening into the sitting-room
+used by the young heiress of Raynham.
+
+Black Milsom had only to push it open. The intruder crept softly across
+the room, drew aside a curtain, and opened the massive oak door which
+divided the sitting-room from the bed-room.
+
+Mr. Milsom had taken care to make himself familiar with the smallest
+details of the castle household, and he had even heard of Mrs. Morden's
+habit of sleeping within closely drawn curtains, from his general
+informant, James Harwood, the groom, who had received his information
+from one of the housemaids, in that temple of gossip--the servants'
+hall.
+
+Gertrude Eversleigh slept in a white-curtained cot, by the side of Mrs.
+Morden's bed.
+
+Black Milsom lifted the coverlet, threw it over the face of the
+sleeping child, and with one strong hand lifted her from her cot, her
+face still shrouded by the thick down coverlet, which must effectually
+prevent her cries. With the other hand he snatched up a blanket, and
+threw it round the struggling form, and then, bundled in coverlet and
+blanket, he carried the little girl away.
+
+Only when his feet were on the turf, and the castle stood up black
+behind him, did he withdraw the coverlet from the mouth of the half-
+suffocated child.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+
+                          CAUGHT IN THE TOILS.
+
+Captain Copplestone did not waste half an hour on the road between
+London and Raynham.
+
+No words can paint his agony of terror, the torture of mind which he
+endured, as he sat in the post-chaise, watching every landmark of the
+journey, counting every minute of the tedious hours, and continually
+putting his head out of the front window, and urging the postillions to
+greater speed.
+
+He hated himself for having been duped by that forged letter.
+
+"I had no business to leave the child," he kept repeating to himself;
+"not even to obey her mother. My place was by little Gertrude, and I
+have been a fool to desert my post. If any harm has come to her in my
+absence, by the heaven above me, I think I shall be tempted to blow out
+my brains."
+
+Once having decided that the letter, purporting to be written by Lady
+Eversleigh, was a forgery, he could not doubt that it formed part of
+some plot against the household of Raynham Castle.
+
+To Captain Copplestone, who knew that the life of his friend had been
+sacrificed to the dark plottings of a traitor, this idea was terrible.
+
+"I knew the wretches I had to deal with; I was forewarned that
+treachery and cunning would be on the watch to do that child wrong," he
+said to himself, during those hours of self-reproach; "and yet I
+allowed myself to be duped by the first trick of those hidden foes. Oh,
+great heaven! grant that I may reach Raynham before they can have taken
+any fatal advantage of my absence."
+
+It was daybreak when the captain's post-chaise dashed into the village
+street of Raynham. He murmured a thanksgiving and a prayer, almost in
+the same breath, as he saw the castle-turrets dark against the chill
+gray sky.
+
+The vehicle ascended the hill, and stopped before the arched entrance
+to the castle. An old woman, who acted as portress, opened the carved
+iron gates. He glanced at her, but did not stop to question her. One
+word from her would have put an end to all suspense; but in this last
+moment the soldier had not courage to utter the question which he so
+dreaded to have answered--Was Gertrude safe?
+
+In another moment that question was answered for Captain Copplestone--
+answered completely, without the utterance of a word.
+
+The principal door of the castle was open, and in the doorway stood two
+men.
+
+One was Mr. Ashburne, the magistrate; the other was Christopher Dimond,
+the constable of Raynham.
+
+The sight of these two men told Captain Copplestone that his fears were
+but too surely realized. Something had happened amiss--something of
+importance--or Gilbert Ashburne, the magistrate, would not be there.
+
+"The child!" gasped the captain; "is she dead--murdered?"
+
+"No, no, not dead," answered Mr. Ashburne.
+
+"Not dead! Thank God!" exclaimed the soldier, in a devout whisper.
+"What then? What has happened?" he asked, scarcely able to command
+himself so far as to utter these few words with distinctness. "For
+pity's sake speak plainly. Can't you see that you are keeping me in
+torture? What has happened to the child?"
+
+"She has disappeared."
+
+"She has disappeared!" echoed the captain. "I left strict orders that
+she should not be permitted to stir beyond the castle walls. Who dared
+to disobey those orders?"
+
+"No one," answered Mr. Ashburne. "Miss Eversleigh was not allowed to
+quit her own apartments. She disappeared in the night from her own cot,
+while that cot was in its usual place, beside Mrs. Morden's bed."
+
+"But who could penetrate into that room in the night, when the castle
+doors are secured against every one? Where is Mrs. Morden? Let me see
+her; and let every servant of the house be assembled in the great
+dining-room."
+
+Captain Copplestone gave this order to the butler, who had come out to
+the hall on hearing the arrival of the post-chaise. The man bowed, and
+departed on his errand.
+
+"I fear you will gain nothing by questioning the household," said Mr.
+Ashburne. "I have already made all possible inquiries, assisted by
+Christopher Dimond here, but can obtain no information that throws the
+smallest ray of light upon this most mysterious business."
+
+"I thank you," replied the captain; "I am sure you have done all that
+friendship could suggest; but I should like to question those people
+myself. This business is a matter of life and death for me."
+
+He went into the great dining-room--the room in which the inquiry had
+been held respecting the cause of Sir Oswald's death. Mr. Ashburne and
+Christopher Dimond accompanied him, and the servants of the household
+came in quietly, two and three at a time, until the lower end of the
+room was full. Mrs. Morden was the last to come. She made no
+protestations of her grief--her self-reproach--for she never for a
+moment imagined that any one could doubt the intensity of her feelings.
+She stood before the captain, calm, collected, ready to answer his
+questions promptly and conscientiously.
+
+He questioned the servants one by one, beginning with Mrs. Smithson,
+the housekeeper, who was ready to declare that no living creature,
+except the members of the household, could have been within the castle
+walls on the night of Gertrude Eversleigh's disappearance.
+
+"That anybody could have come into this house and gone out of it in a
+night, unknown to me, is a moral impossibility," said the housekeeper;
+"the doors were locked at half-past ten, and the keys were brought in a
+basket to my room. So, you see it's quite impossible that any one could
+have come in or gone out before the doors were open in the morning."
+
+"What time was the child's disappearance discovered?"
+
+"At a quarter to five in the morning," answered Mrs. Morden; "before
+any one in the house was a-stir. My darling has always been in the
+habit of waking at that hour, to take a little milk, which is left in a
+glass by her bedside. I woke at the usual time, and rose, in order to
+give her the milk, and when I looked at her cot, I saw that it was
+empty. The child was gone. The silk coverlet and one blanket had
+disappeared with her. I gave the alarm immediately, and in a quarter of
+an hour the whole household was a-stir."
+
+"And did you hear nothing during that night?" asked the captain,
+turning suddenly to address Solomon Grundy, who had entered amongst the
+rest of the servants.
+
+"Nothing, captain."
+
+"Humph," muttered the old soldier, "a sorry watch-dog."
+
+"There is only one entrance to the castle which is at all weakly
+guarded," said the magistrate, presently; "and that is a small door
+belonging to the bed-room occupied by one of the footmen. But this man
+tells me that he was in his room that night at his usual hour, and that
+the door was locked and bolted in the usual way."
+
+As he said this, the magistrate looked towards the end of the
+apartment, where Stephen Plumpton stood amongst his fellow servants.
+The young man had been weak enough, or guilty enough, to commit himself
+to a false statement; first, because he did not want to betray the
+misdoings of Matthew Brook, and secondly, because he feared to admit
+his own culpable carelessness.
+
+"My telling the truth won't bring the child back," he argued with
+himself. "If it would, I'd speak out fast enough."
+
+"You say that it is impossible that any one can have entered this
+house, and left it, during that night," said Captain Copplestone to the
+housekeeper; "and yet some one must have left the house, even if no one
+entered it, or Gertrude Eversleigh must be hidden within these walls.
+Has the castle been thoroughly searched? There are stories of children
+who have hidden themselves in sport, to find the sport end in terrible
+earnest."
+
+"The castle has been searched from garret to cellar," answered Mrs.
+Morden. "Mrs. Smithson and I have gone together into every room, and
+opened every cupboard."
+
+The captain dismissed the assembly, after having asked many questions
+without result. When this was done, he went alone to the library, where
+he shut himself in, and seated himself at the writing-table, with pen
+and ink before him, to meditate upon, the steps which should be first
+taken in the work that lay before him.
+
+That work was no less painful a task than the writing of a letter to
+Lady Eversleigh, to inform her of the calamity which had taken place--
+of the terrible realization of her worst fears. Captain Copplestone's
+varied and adventurous life had never brought him a severer or more
+painful duty, but he was not the man to shirk or defer it, because it
+involved suffering to himself.
+
+The letter was written, and despatched by the evening post, and then
+the captain shut himself up in his own room, and gave way to the
+bitterest grief he had ever experienced.
+
+Who shall describe the agony which Lady Eversleigh suffered when
+Captain Copplestone's letter reached her? For the first half-hour after
+she read it, a blight seemed to fall upon her senses, and she sat still
+in her chair, stupefied; but when she rallied, her first impulse was to
+send for Andrew Larkspur, who was now nearly restored to his usual
+state of sound health.
+
+She rang the bell, and summoned Jane Payland.
+
+"There is a lawyer's clerk living in this house," she said; "Mr.
+Andrews. Go to him immediately, and ask him to favour me with an
+interview. I wish to consult him on a matter of business."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," answered Miss Payland, looking inquisitively at the ashen
+face of her mistress. "There's something fresh this morning," she
+muttered to herself, as she tripped lightly up the stairs to do her
+bidding.
+
+Mr. Larkspur--or Mr. Andrews--presented himself before Lady Eversleigh
+a few minutes after he received her message. He found her pacing the
+room in a fever of excitement.
+
+"Good gracious me, ma'am!" he exclaimed; "is there anything amiss?"
+
+"Yes," she answered, handing him the letter.
+
+Mr. Larkspur read the letter to the end, and then read it again.
+
+"This is a bad job," he said, calmly; "what's to be done now?"
+
+"You must accompany me to Raynham Castle--you must help me to find my
+child!" cried Honoria, in wild excitement. "You are better now, Mr.
+Larkspur, you can bear the journey? For Heaven's sake, do not say you
+cannot aid me. You must come with me, Andrew Larkspur. I do not offer
+to bribe you--I say you must come! Bring me my darling safe to my
+arms, and you may name your own reward for that priceless service."
+
+"No, no," said Mr. Larkspur; "I don't say _that_. I am well enough, so
+far as that goes, but how about our little schemes in London?"
+
+"Never mind them--never think of them! What are they to me now?"
+
+"Very well, my lady," answered Mr. Larkspur; "if it must be so, it must
+be. I must turn my back upon the neatest business that ever a Bow
+Street officer handled, just as it's getting most interesting to a
+well-regulated mind."
+
+"And you'll come with me at once?"
+
+"Give me one hour to make my plans, ma'am, and I'm your man," replied
+Mr. Larkspur. "I'll pack a carpet-bag, leave it down stairs, take a
+hackney coach to Bow Street, see my deputy, and arrange some matters
+for him, and be ready one hour from this time, when you'll be so kind
+as to call for me in a post-chaise--not forgetting to bring my carpet-
+bag with you in the boot, if you please. And now you be so good as to
+keep up your spirits, ma'am, like a Trojan--which I've heard the
+Trojans had an uncommon hard time of it in their day. If the child is
+to be found, Andrew Larkspur is the man to find her; and as to reward,
+we won't talk about that, if you please, my lady. I may be a hard-
+fisted one, but I'm not the individual to trade upon the feelings of a
+mother that has lost her only child."
+
+Having said this, Mr. Larkspur departed, and in less than two hours he
+and Lady Eversleigh were seated in a post-chaise, behind four horses,
+tearing along the road between London and Barnet.
+
+And thus additional security attended the schemes of Victor Carrington.
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+
+                         LARKSPUR TO THE RESCUE.
+
+The journey of Lady Eversleigh and her companion, the Bow Street
+officer, was as rapid as the journey of Captain Copplestone. Along the
+same northern road as that which he had travelled a few days before
+flew the post-chaise containing the anguish-stricken mother and her
+strange ally. In this hour of agony and suspense, Honoria Eversleigh
+looked to the queer, wizened little police-officer, Andrew Larkspur, as
+the best friend she had on earth.
+
+"You'll find my child for me?" she cried many times during the course
+of that long journey, appealing to Mr. Larkspur, with clasped hands and
+streaming eyes. "Oh, tell me that you'll find her for me. For pity's
+sake, give me some comfort--some hope."
+
+"I'll give you plenty of comfort, and plenty of hope, too, mum, if
+you'll only cheer up and trust in me," answered the luminary of Bow
+Street, with that stolid calmness of manner which seemed as if it would
+scarcely have been disturbed by an earthquake. "You keep up your
+spirits, and don't give way. If the little lady is alive, I'll bring
+her back to you safe and sound. If--if--so be as she's--contrarywise,"
+added Mr. Larkspur, alarmed by the wild look in his companion's eyes,
+as he was about to pronounce the terrible word she so much feared to
+hear, "why, in that case I'll find them as have done the deed, and they
+shall pay for it."
+
+"Oh, give her back to me!" exclaimed Honoria; "give her back! Let me
+hold her in my arms once more. I abandon all thought of revenge upon
+those who have so basely wronged me. Let Providence alone deal with
+them and their crime. It may be this punishment has come to me, because
+I have sought to usurp the office of Providence. Let me have my darling
+once more, and I will banish from my heart every feeling which a
+Christian should abjure."
+
+Bitter remorse was mingled with the agony which rent the mother's heart
+in those terrible hours. All at once her eyes were opened to the deep
+and dreadful guilt involved in those vengeful feelings she had so long
+nourished, to the exclusion of all tender emotions, all generous
+instincts.
+
+Bitterly did the mother upbraid herself as she sat, with her hands
+clasped tightly together, her pale face turned to the window, her
+haggard eyes looking out at every object on the road, eager to behold
+any landmark that would tell her that she was so many miles nearer the
+end of her journey.
+
+She had concluded that, as a matter of course, the disappearance of the
+child had been directly or indirectly the work of Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh; and she said as much to Mr. Larkspur. But, to her surprise,
+she found that he did not share her opinion upon this subject.
+
+"If you ask me whether Sir Reginald is in it, I'll tell you candidly,
+no, my lady, I don't think he is. I don't need to tell you that I've
+had a deal of experience in my time; and, if that experience is worth a
+brass button, Sir Reginald hasn't any hand in this business down in
+Yorkshire."
+
+"Not directly, perhaps, but indirectly," interrupted Honoria.
+
+"Neither one nor the other," answered the great man of Bow Street.
+"I've had my eye upon the baronet ever since you put me up to watching
+him; and there's precious little he could do without my spotting him. I
+know what letters he has written, and I know more or less what has been
+in those letters. I know what people he has seen, and more or less what
+he has said to them; and I don't see that it's possible he could have
+carried on such a game as this abduction of Missy without my having an
+inkling of it."
+
+"But what of his ally--his bosom-friend and confederate--Victor
+Carrington? May not his treacherous hand have struck this blow?"
+
+"I think not, my lady," replied Mr. Larkspur. "I've had my eye upon
+that gentleman likewise, as per agreement; for when Andrew Larkspur
+guarantees to do a thing, he ain't the man to do it by halves. I've
+kept a close watch upon Mr. Carrington; and with the exception of his
+_parleyvous francais_-ing with that sharp-nosed, shabby-genteel lady-
+companion of Madame Durski's, there's very few of _his_ goings-on I
+haven't been able to reckon up to a fraction. No, my lady, there's some
+one else in this business; and who that some one else is, it'll be my
+duty to find out. But I can't do anything till I get on the ground.
+When I get on the ground, and have had time to look about me, I shall
+be able to form an opinion."
+
+Honoria was fain to be patient, to put her trust in heaven, and,
+beneath heaven, in this pragmatical little police-officer, who really
+felt as much compassion for her sorrow as it was possible for a man so
+steeped in the knowledge of crime and iniquity, and so hardened by
+contact with the worst side of the world, to feel for any human grief.
+She was compelled to be patient, or, at any rate, to assume that
+outward aspect of calmness which seems like patience, while the heart
+within her breast throbbed tumultuously as storm-driven waves.
+
+At last the wearisome journey came to an end. She entered the arched
+gateway of Raynham Castle; and, as she looked out of the carriage
+window, she saw the big black letters, printed on a white broadside,
+offering a reward of three hundred pounds for the early restoration of
+the missing child.
+
+Mr. Larkspur gave a scornful sniff as he perceived this bill.
+
+"That won't bring her back," he muttered. "Those who've taken her away
+will play a deeper game than to bring her back for the first reward
+that's offered, or the second, or the third. She'll have to be found by
+those that are a match for the scoundrel that stole her from her home;
+and perhaps he _will_ find his match before long, clever as he is."
+
+The meeting between Honoria and Captain Copplestone was a very quiet
+one. She was far too noble, far too just to reproach the friend in whom
+she had trusted, even though he had failed in his trust.
+
+He had heard the approach of the post-chaise, and he awaited her on the
+threshold of the door. He had gone forth to many a desperate encounter;
+but he had never felt so heart-piercing a pang as that which he endured
+this day when he went to meet Lady Eversleigh.
+
+She held out her hand to him as she crossed the threshold. "I have done
+my duty," he said, in low, earnest tones, "as I am a man of honour and
+a soldier, Lady Eversleigh; I have done my duty, miserable as the
+result has been."
+
+"I can believe that," answered Honoria, gravely. "Your face tells me
+there are no good tidings to greet me here. She is not found?"
+
+The captain shook his head sadly.
+
+"And there are no tidings of any kind?--no clue, no trace?"
+
+"None. The constable of this place, and other men from the market-town,
+are doing their utmost; but as yet the result has been only new
+mystification--new conjecture."
+
+"No; nor wouldn't be, if the constables were to have twenty years to do
+their work in, instead of three days," interrupted Mr. Larkspur.
+"Perhaps you don't know what country police-officers are? I do; and if
+you expect to find the little lady by their help, you may just as well
+look up to the sky yonder, and wait till she drops down from it, for of
+the two things that's by far the most likely. I can believe in
+miracles," added Mr. Larkspur, piously; "but I can't believe in rural
+police-constables."
+
+The captain looked at the speaker with a bewildered expression, and
+Lady Eversleigh hastened to explain the presence of her ally.
+
+"This is Mr. Larkspur, a well-known Bow Street officer," she said: "and
+I rely on his aid to find my precious one. Pray tell me all that has
+happened in connection with this event. He is very clever, and he may
+strike out some plan of action that will be better than anything which
+has yet been attempted."
+
+They had passed into a small sitting-room, half ante-room, half study,
+leading out of the great hall, and here the police-officer seated
+himself, as much at home as if he had spent half his life within the
+walls of Raynham, and listened quietly while Captain Copplestone gave a
+circumstantial account of the child's disappearance, taking care not to
+omit the smallest detail connected with that event.
+
+Mr. Larkspur made occasional pencil-notes in his memorandum-book; but
+he did not interrupt the captain's narration by a single remark.
+
+When all was finished, Lady Eversleigh looked at him with anxious,
+inquiring eyes, as if from his lips she expected to receive the
+sentence of fate itself.
+
+"Well?" she muttered, breathlessly, "is there any hope? Do you see any
+clue?"
+
+"Half a dozen clues," answered the police-officer, "if they're properly
+handled. The first thing we've got to do is to offer a reward for that
+silk coverlet that was taken away with the little girl."
+
+"Why offer a reward for the coverlet?" asked Captain Copplestone.
+
+"Bless your innocent heart!" answered Mr. Larkspur, contemplating the
+soldier with a pitying smile; "don't you see that, if we find the
+coverlet, we're pretty sure to find the child? The man who took her
+away made a mistake when he carried off the coverlet with her, unless
+he was deep enough to destroy it before he had taken her far. If he
+didn't do that--if he left that silk coverlet behind him anywhere, I
+consider his game as good as up. That is just the kind of thing that a
+police-officer gets his clue from. There's been more murders and
+burglaries found out from an old coat, or a pair of old shoes, or a
+walking-stick, or such like, than you could count in a day. I shan't
+make any stir about the child just yet, my lady: but before forty-eight
+hours are over our heads, I'll have a handbill posted in every town in
+England, and an advertisement in every newspaper, offering five pounds
+reward for that dark blue silk coverlet you talk of, lined with
+crimson."
+
+"There seems considerable wisdom in the idea," said the captain,
+thoughtfully. "It would never have occurred to me to advertise for the
+coverlet."
+
+"I don't suppose it would," answered the great Larkspur, with a slight
+touch of sarcasm in his tone. "It has took me a matter of thirty years
+to learn my business; and it ain't to be supposed as my knowledge will
+come to other folks natural."
+
+"You are right, Mr. Larkspur," replied the captain, smiling at the
+police-officer's air of offended dignity; "and since you seem to be
+thoroughly equal to the difficulties of the situation, I think we can
+scarcely do better than trust ourselves entirely to your discretion."
+
+"I don't think you'll have any occasion to repent your confidence,"
+said Mr. Larkspur. "And now, if I may make so bold as to mention it, I
+should be glad to get a morsel of dinner, and a glass of brandy-and-
+water, cold without; after which I'll take a turn in the village and
+look about me. There may be something to be picked up in that direction
+by a man who keeps his eyes and ears open."
+
+Mr. Larkspur was consigned to the care of the butler, who conducted him
+at once to the housekeeper's room, where that very important person,
+Mrs. Smithson, received him with almost regal condescension.
+
+Mrs. Smithson and the butler both would have been very glad to converse
+with Mr. Larkspur, and to find out from that gentleman's conversation
+who he was, and all about him; but Mr. Larkspur himself had no
+inclination to be communicative. He responded courteously, but briefly,
+to all Mrs. Smithson's civilities; and after eating the best part of a
+cold roast chicken, and a pound or so of ham, and drinking about half a
+pint of cognac, he left the housekeeper's room, and retired to an
+apartment to which the butler ushered him--a very comfortable little
+sitting-room, leading into a small bedchamber, which two rooms were to
+be occupied by Mr. Larkspur during his residence at the castle.
+
+Here he employed himself until dark in writing short notes to the chief
+police-officers of all the principal towns in England, ordering the
+printing and posting of the handbills of which he had spoken to Lady
+Eversleigh and the captain. When this was done he put on his hat, and
+went out at the great arched gateway of the castle, whence he made his
+way to the village street. Here he spent the rest of the evening, and
+he made very excellent use of his time, though he passed the greater
+part of it in the parlour of the "Hen and Chickens," drinking very weak
+brandy-and-water, and listening to the conversation of the gentry who
+patronized that house of entertainment.
+
+Among those gentry was the good-tempered, but somewhat weak-minded,
+Matthew Brook, the coachman.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Mat Brook," said a stout, red-faced
+individual, who was butler at one of the mansions in the neighbourhood
+of Raynham, "you've not been yourself for the last week; not since
+little Missy was stolen from the castle yonder. You must have been
+uncommonly fond of that child."
+
+"I was fond of her, bless her dear little heart," replied Matthew.
+
+But though this assertion, so far as it went, was perfectly true, there
+was some slight hesitation in the coachman's manner of uttering it--a
+hesitation which Andrew Larkspur was not slow to perceive.
+
+"And you've lost your new friend down at the 'Cat and Fiddle,' where
+you was beginning to spend more of your evenings than you spent here.
+What's become of that man Maunders--eh, Brook?" asked the butler. "That
+was a rather queer thing--his leaving Raynham so suddenly, leaving his
+house to take care of itself, or to be taken care of by a stupid
+country wench, who doesn't know her business any more than a cow. Do
+you know why he went, or where he's gone, Mat?"
+
+"Not I," Mr. Brook answered, rather nervously, and reddening as he
+spoke.
+
+The police-officer watched and listened even more intently than before.
+The conversation was becoming every moment more interesting for him.
+
+"How should I know where Mr. Maunders has gone?" asked Matthew Brook,
+rather peevishly, as he paused from smoking to refill his honest clay
+pipe. "How should I know where he's gone, or how long he means to stay
+away? I know nothing of him, except that he seems a jolly, good-hearted
+sort of a chap in his own rough-and-ready way. James Harwood brought
+him up to the castle one night for a hand at whist and a bit of supper,
+and he seemed to take a regular fancy to some of us, and asked us to
+take a glass now and then down at his place, which we did; and that's
+all about it; and I don't mean to stand any more cross-questioning."
+
+"Why, Brook," cried his friend, the butler, "what's come to you? It
+isn't like you to answer any man in that way, least of all such on old
+friend as me."
+
+Mr. Brook took no notice of this reproach. He went on smoking silently.
+
+"I say, Harris," said the butler, presently, when the landlord of the
+"Hen and Chickens" came into the room to attend upon his customers, "do
+you know whether the landlord of the 'Cat and Fiddle' has come back
+yet?"
+
+"No, he ain't," answered Mr. Harris; "and folks complain sadly of being
+served by that awkward lass he's left in charge of the house. I've had
+a many of his old customers come up here for what they want."
+
+"Does anybody know where he's gone?"
+
+"That's as may be," answered Mr. Harris. "Anyhow, I don't. Some say
+he's gone to London for a fortnight's pleasure; but if he has, he's a
+very queer man of business; and it strikes me, when he comes back he
+will find his customers all left him."
+
+"Do you think he's cut and run?"
+
+"Well, you see, he might be in debt, and want to give his creditors the
+slip."
+
+"But folks down the village say he didn't owe a five-pound note,"
+returned the landlord, who was a great authority with regard to all
+local gossip. "It's rather a queer business altogether, that chap
+taking himself off without why or wherefore, and just about the time as
+the little girl disappeared from the castle."
+
+"Why, you don't think he had anything to do with _that_, Joe Harris?"
+exclaimed the butler.
+
+Andrew Larkspur took occasion to look at Matthew Brook at this moment;
+and he saw the coachman's honest face grow pallid, as if under the
+influence of some sudden terror.
+
+"You don't believe as Maunders had a hand in stealing the child, eh,
+Joe Harris?" repeated the butler.
+
+Joe Harris shook his head solemnly.
+
+"I don't think nothing, and I don't believe nothing," he answered, with
+a mysterious air. "It ain't my place to give an opinion upon this here
+subjick. It might be said as I was jealous of the landlord of the 'Cat
+and Fiddle,' and owed him a grudge. All I says is this: it's a very
+queer circumstance as the landlord of the 'Cat and Fiddle' should
+disappear from the village directly after little Miss Eversleigh
+disappeared from the castle. You may put two and two together, and you
+may make 'em into four, if you like," added Mr. Harris, with profound
+solemnity; "or you may leave it alone. That's your business."
+
+"I'll tell you what it is," said the butler; "I've had a chat with old
+Mother Smithson since the disappearance of the young lady; and from
+what I've heard, it's pretty clear to my mind that business wasn't
+managed by any one outside the castle. It couldn't be. There was some
+one inside had a hand in it. I wouldn't mind staking a twelvemonth's
+wages on that, Matthew and you musn't be offended if I seem to go
+against your fellow-servants."
+
+"I ain't offended, and I ain't pleased," answered Matthew, testily;
+"all I can say is, as I don't like so much cross-questioning. There's a
+sort of a lawyer chap has come down to-day with my lady, I hear, though
+I ain't set eyes on him yet; and I suppose he'll find out all about
+it."
+
+No more was said upon the subject of the lost heiress, or the landlord
+of the "Cat and Fiddle."
+
+The subject was evidently, for some reason or other, unpleasant to Mr.
+Brook, the coachman; and as Matthew Brook was a general favourite, the
+subject was dropped. Mr. Larkspur devoted the next morning to a
+careful examination of all possible entrances to the castle. When he
+saw the half-glass door opening from the quadrangle into the little
+bedchamber occupied by Stephen Plumpton, the footman, he gave a long,
+low whistle, and smiled to himself, with the triumphant smile of a man
+who has found a clue to the mystery he wishes to solve.
+
+Mrs. Smithson, the housekeeper, conducted Andrew Larkspur from room to
+room during this careful investigation of the premises; and she and
+Stephen Plumpton alone were present when he examined this half-glass
+door.
+
+"Do you always bolt your door of a night?" Mr. Larkspur asked of the
+footman.
+
+"A ways, sir."
+
+The tone of the man's voice and the man's face combined to betray him
+to the skilled police-officer.
+
+Andrew Larkspur knew that the man had told him a deliberate falsehood.
+
+"Are you certain you bolted this door on that particular night?"
+
+"Oh, quite certain, sir."
+
+The police-officer examined the bolt. It was a very strong one; but it
+moved so stiffly as to betray the fact that it was very rarely used.
+
+Mrs. Smithson did not notice this fact; but Mr. Larkspur did. It was
+his business to take note of small facts.
+
+"Can you remember what you were doing on that particular night?" he
+asked, presently, turning again to the embarrassed Stephen.
+
+"No, sir; I can't say I do remember exactly," faltered the footman.
+
+"Were you at home that night?"
+
+"Well, yes, sir, I think I was."
+
+"You are not certain?"
+
+"Well, yes, sir; perhaps I might venture to say as I'm certain,"
+answered the miserable young man, who in his desire to screen his
+fellow-servant, found himself led on from one falsehood to another.
+
+He knew that he could rely on the honourable silence of the servants;
+and that none among them would betray the secret of the party at the
+"Cat and Fiddle."
+
+After completing the examination of the premises, Mr. Larkspur dined
+comfortably in the housekeeper's room, and then once more sallied forth
+to the village to finish his afternoon. But on this occasion it was to
+the "Cat and Fiddle," and not the "Hen and Chickens," that the police-
+officer betook himself. Here he found only a few bargemen and
+villagers, carousing upon the wooden benches of a tap-room, drinking
+their beer out of yellow earthenware mugs, and enjoying themselves in
+an atmosphere that was almost suffocating from the fumes of strong
+tobacco.
+
+Mr. Larkspur did not trouble himself to listen to the conversation of
+these men; he looked into the room for a few minutes and then returned
+to the bar, where he ordered a glass of brandy-and-water from the girl
+who served Mr. Maunders's customers in the absence of that gentleman.
+
+"So your master is away from home, my lass," he said, in his most
+insinuating tone, as he slowly stirred his brandy-and-water.
+
+"Yes, he be, sir."
+
+"Do you know when he's coming back?" inquired Larkspur.
+
+"Lawks, no, sir."
+
+"Or where he's gone?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't know that neither. My master's a good one to hold his
+tongue, he is. He never tells nobody nothing, in a manner of speaking."
+
+"When did he go away?"
+
+The girl named the morning on which had been discovered the
+disappearance of Sir Oswald's daughter.
+
+"He went away pretty early, I suppose?" said Mr. Larkspur, with assumed
+indifference.
+
+"I should rather think he did," answered the girl. "I was up at six
+that morning, but my master had gone clean off when I came down stairs.
+There weren't a sign of him."
+
+"He must have gone very early."
+
+"That he must; and the strangest part of it is that he was up very late
+the night before," added the girl, who was one of those people who ask
+nothing better than the privilege of telling all they know about
+anything or anybody.
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Larkspur; "he was up late the night before, was he?"
+
+"Yes. It was eleven when he sent me to bed, ordering me off as sharp as
+you please, which is just his way. And he couldn't have gone to bed for
+above an hour after that, for I lay awake, on the listen, as you may
+say, wondering what he was up to downstairs. But though I lay awake
+above an hour, I didn't hear him come up stairs at all; so goodness
+knows what time he went to bed. You see he had a party that night."
+
+"Oh, he had a party, had he?" remarked the police-officer, who saw that
+he had no occasion to question this young lady, so well-inclined was
+she to tell him all she knew.
+
+"Yes, sir. His friends came to have a hand at cards and a hot supper;
+and didn't it give me plenty of trouble to get it all ready, that's
+all. You see, master's friends are some of the gentlemen up at the
+castle; and they live so uncommon well up there, that they're very
+particular what they eat. It must be all of the best, and done to a
+turn, master says to me; and so it was. I'm sure the steak was a
+perfect picture when I laid it on the dish, and the onions were fried a
+beautiful golden brown, as would have done credit to the Queen of
+England's head-cook, though I says it as shouldn't perhaps," added the
+damsel, modestly.
+
+"And which of the gentlemen from the castle came to supper with your
+master that night?" Mr. Larkspur asked, presently.
+
+"Well, sir, you see there was three of them. Mr. Brook, the coachman, a
+good-natured, civil-spoken man as you'd wish to meet, but a little
+given to drink, folks say; and there was James Harwood, the under-
+groom; and Stephen Plumpton, the footman, a good-looking, fresh-
+coloured young man, which is, perhaps, beknown to you."
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Mr. Larkspur, "I know Stephen, the footman."
+
+Mr. Larkspur and the damsel conversed a good deal after this; but
+nothing of particular interest transpired in this conversation. The
+gentleman departed from the "Cat and Fiddle" very well satisfied with
+his evening's work, and returned to the castle in time to take a
+comfortable cup of tea in the housekeeper's room.
+
+He was quite satisfied in his own mind as to the identity of the
+delinquent who had stolen the child.
+
+The next thing to be discovered was the manner in which the landlord of
+the "Cat and Fiddle" had left Raynham. It must have been almost
+impossible for him to leave in any public vehicle, carrying the stolen
+child with him, as he must have done, without attracting the attention
+of his fellow-passengers. Andrew Larkspur had taken care to ascertain
+all possible details of the man's habits from the communicative
+barmaid, and knew that he had no vehicle or horse of his own. He must,
+therefore, have either gone in a public vehicle, or on foot.
+
+If he had left the village on foot, under cover of darkness, he might
+have left unseen; but he must have entered some other village at
+daybreak; he must sooner or later have procured some kind of
+conveyance; and wherever he went, carrying with him that stolen child,
+it was more than probable his appearance would attract attention.
+
+After a little trouble, the astute Andrew ascertained that Mr. Maunders
+had certainly not left the village by any public conveyance.
+
+It was late when Mr. Larkspur returned to the castle, after having
+mastered this fact. He found that Lady Eversleigh had been inquiring
+for him; and he was told that she had requested he might be sent to her
+apartments at whatever time he returned.
+
+In obedience to this summons, he followed a servant to the room
+occupied by the mistress of Raynham Castle.
+
+"Well, Mr. Larkspur," Honoria asked, eagerly, "do you bring many hope?"
+
+"I don't exactly know about that, my lady," answered the ever-cautious
+Andrew; "but I think I may venture to say that things are going on
+pretty smoothly. I ain't wasting time, depend upon it; and I hope in a
+day or two I may have something encouraging to tell you."
+
+"But you will tell me nothing yet?" murmured Honoria, with a despairing
+sigh.
+
+"Not yet, my lady."
+
+No more was said. Lady Eversleigh was obliged to be content with this
+small comfort.
+
+Early the next morning Mr. Larkspur set out on his voyage of discovery
+to the villages within two, three, four, and five hours' walk of
+Raynham.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+
+                              ON THE TRACK.
+
+The next day Mr. Larkspur spent in the same manner, and returned to the
+castle late at night, and very much out of sorts. He had of late been
+spoiled by tolerably easy triumphs, and the experience of failure was
+very disagreeable to him.
+
+On both evenings he was summoned to Lady Eversleigh's apartments, and
+on each occasion declined going. He sent a respectful message, to the
+effect that he had nothing to communicate to her ladyship, and would
+not therefore intrude upon her.
+
+But early on the morning after the second day's wasted labour, the post
+brought Mr. Larkspur a communication which quite restored him to his
+accustomed good humour.
+
+It was neither more nor less than a brief epistle from one of the
+officials of the police-staff at Murford Haven, informing Mr. Larkspur
+that an old woman had produced the silken coverlet advertised for, and
+claimed the offered reward.
+
+Mr. Larkspur sent a servant to inquire if Lady Eversleigh would be
+pleased to favour him with a few minutes' conversation that morning.
+The man came back almost immediately with a ready affirmative.
+
+"My lady will be very happy to see Mr. Larkspur."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Larkspur!" exclaimed Honoria, as the police-officer entered
+the room, "I am certain you bring me good news; I can see it in your
+face."
+
+"Well, yes, my lady; certainly I've got a little bit of good news this
+morning."
+
+"You have found a clue to my child?"
+
+"I have found out something about the coverlet," answered Andrew; "and
+that's the next best thing, to my mind. That has turned up at Murford
+Haven, thirty miles from here; though how the man who stole Miss
+Eversleigh can have got there without leaving a single trace behind him
+is more than I can understand."
+
+"At Murford Haven!--my darling has been taken to Murford Haven!" cried
+Honoria.
+
+"So I conclude, my lady, by the coverlet turning up there," replied Mr.
+Larkspur. "I told you the handbills would do the trick. Murford Haven
+is a large manufacturing town, and the sort of place a man who wanted
+to keep himself out of sight of the police might be likely enough to
+choose. Now, with your leave, my lady, I'll be off to Murford Haven as
+soon as I can have a post-chaise got ready for me."
+
+"And I will go with you," exclaimed Lady Eversleigh; "I shall feel as
+if I were nearer my child if I go to the town where you hope to find
+the clue to her hiding-place."
+
+"I, too, will accompany you," said Captain Copplestone.
+
+"Begging you pardon, sir," remonstrated Mr. Larkspur, "if three of us
+go, and one of those three a lady, we might attract attention, even in
+such a busy place as Murford Haven. And if those that have got little
+missy should hear of it, they'd smell a rat. No, my lady, you let me go
+alone. I'm used to this sort of work, and you ain't, and the captain
+ain't either. I can slip about on the quiet anywhere like an eel; and
+I've got the eye to see whatever is to be seen, and the ear to pick up
+every syllable that's to be heard. You trust matters to me, and depend
+upon it, I'll do my duty. I've got a clue, and a clue is all I ever
+want. You keep to this spot, my lady, and you, too, captain; for there
+may come some kind of news in my absence, and you may have to act
+without me. I shan't waste time, you may rely upon it; and all you've
+got to do, my lady, is to trust to me, and hope that I shall bring you
+back good news from Murford Haven."
+
+Very little more was said, and half an hour after this interview, the
+police-officer left Raynham in a post-chaise, on the first stage of the
+journey to Murford Haven.
+
+Words are too weak to describe the sufferings of the mother of the lost
+child, and of the friends to whom she was hardly less dear. They waited
+very quietly, with all outward show of calmness, but the pain of
+suspense was not less keen. They sat silent, unoccupied, counting the
+hours--the minutes even--during the period which must elapse before the
+return of the police-officer.
+
+He came earlier than Honoria had dared to expect him, and he brought
+with him so much comfort that she could almost have fallen on her
+knees, like Thetis at the feet of Jove, in the extremity of her
+gratitude for his services.
+
+"I've got the coverlet," said Mr. Larkspur, dragging the little silken
+covering from his carpet-bag, and displaying it before those to whom it
+was so familiar. "That's about the ticket, I think, my lady. Yes, just
+so. I found a nice old hag waiting to claim her five pounds reward;
+for, you see, the men at the police-office at Murford Haven contrived
+to keep her dancing attendance backward and forwards--call again in an
+hour, and so on--till I was there to cross-question her. A precious
+deep one she is, too; and a regular jail-bird, I'll wager. I soon
+reckoned her up; and I was pretty sure that whatever she knew she'd
+tell fast enough, if she was only paid her price. So, after a good deal
+of shilly-shally, and handing her over five-and-twenty pounds in solid
+cash, and telling her that she'd better beware how she trifled with a
+gentleman belonging to Bow Street, she consented to tell me all about
+the little girl. The man that stole little missy had been to her
+precious hovel, and old Mother Brimstone had found a change of clothes
+for little missy, in token of which, and on payment of another
+sovereign, the old harpy gave me little missy's own clothes; and there
+they are."
+
+Hereupon Mr. Larkspur dragged from his capacious carpet-bag the
+delicate little garments of lawn and lace which had been worn by the
+cherished heiress of Raynham. Ah! who can describe the anguish of the
+mother's heart as she gazed upon those familiar garments, so associated
+with the form of the lost one?
+
+"Well," gasped Honoria, "go on, I entreat! She told you the child had
+been there. But with whom? Did she tell you that?"
+
+"She did," returned Andrew Larkspur. "She told me that the scoundrel
+who holds little missy in his keeping is no other than the man
+suspected of a foul murder--a man I have long been looking for--a man
+who is well known amongst the criminal classes of London by the name of
+Black Milsom."
+
+Black Milsom! the face of Lady Eversleigh, pale before, grew almost
+ghastly in its pallor, as that hated name sounded in her ears, ominous
+as a death-knell.
+
+"Black Milsom!" she exclaimed at last. "If my child is in the power of
+that man, she is, indeed, lost."
+
+"You know him, my lady?" cried Andrew Larkspur, with surprise. "Ah, I
+remember, you seemed familiar with the details of the Jernam murder.
+You know this man, Milsom?"
+
+"I do know him," answered Honoria, in a tone of utter despair. "Do not
+ask me where or when that man and I have met. It is enough that I know
+him. My darling could not be in worse hands."
+
+"He can have but one motive, and that to extort money," said Captain
+Copplestone. "No harm will come to our darling's precious life. You
+have reason to rejoice that your child has not fallen into the hands of
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh."
+
+"Tell me more," said Honoria to Mr. Larkspur. "Tell me all you have
+discovered."
+
+"All I could discover was that the man Milsom had taken the child to
+London by a certain coach. I went to the inn from which that particular
+coach always starts; and here, after much trouble and delay, I was
+lucky enough to see the guard. From him I derived some valuable
+information; or perhaps, I ought to say some information that I think
+may turn up trumps. He perfectly remembered the man Milsom by my
+description of him, I having got the description from old Mother
+Brimstone; and he remembered the child, because of her crying a deal,
+and the passengers pitying her, and being pleased with her pretty
+looks, and trying to comfort her, and so on. The guard himself took a
+deal of notice of the child, and thought the man was not much good; and
+when they got to London, he felt curious like, he said, to know where
+the two would go, and what would become of them."
+
+"And did he find out?" gasped Lady Eversleigh.
+
+"As good luck would have it, he did. The man got into a hackney-coach,
+and the guard heard the driver tell him to go to Ratcliff Highway--that
+was all."
+
+"Then I will find him," exclaimed Honoria, with feverish excitement. "I
+know the place well--too well! I will go with you to London, Mr.
+Larkspur, and I myself will help you to find my treasure."
+
+In the extremity of her excitement she was reckless what secrets she
+betrayed. She had but one thought, one consideration, and that to her
+was life or death.
+
+"Don't question me," she said to Captain Copplestone, who stared at her
+in amazement; "my girlhood was spent in a den of thieves--my womanhood
+has been one long struggle against pitiless enemies. I will fight
+bravely to the last. And now, in this most bitter trial of my life, the
+experience of my miserable youth shall serve in the contest with that
+villain."
+
+She would brook no delay; she would explain nothing.
+
+"Do not question me," she repeated. "You have counselled me to trust in
+the experience of Mr. Larkspur, and I will confide myself to his
+wisdom; but I must and will accompany him in his search for my child.
+Let a post-chaise be ordered immediately. Can you dispense with rest,
+and take a hurried dinner before you start, Mr. Larkspur?" she added,
+turning to her ally.
+
+"Dispense with rest? Bless your innocent heart, my lady, I don't know
+the meaning of rest when I'm in business; and as for dinner, a ham
+sandwich and a glass of brandy out of a pocket-pistol is as much as I
+ask for when my blood's up." "You shall be richly rewarded for your
+exertions."
+
+"Thank you kindly, ma'am. The promise of a reward is very encouraging,
+of course; but, upon my word, my heart's more in this business than it
+ever was before in anything under a murder; and I feel as if it was in
+me to do wonders."
+
+No more was said. Andrew Larkspur hurried away to eat as good a dinner
+as he could get through in ten minutes, and Honoria went to her
+dressing-room to prepare herself for her journey.
+
+"Pray for me, kind and faithful friend," she said, earnestly, as she
+bade adieu to the captain.
+
+In a few minutes more she was once again speeding along the familiar
+road which she had travelled under such different circumstances, and
+with such different feelings. She remembered the first time she had
+driven through those rustic villages, past those swelling uplands,
+those woods and hills.
+
+Then she had come as a bride, beloved, honoured, seated by the side of
+an adoring husband--a happy future shining before her, a bright horizon
+without one cloud.
+
+Only one shadow to come between her and the sunshine, and that the
+shadow of a cruel memory--the haunting recollection of that foul deed
+which had been done beneath the shelter of the darkness, by the side of
+the ever-flowing river. Even to-day, when her heart was full of her
+child's sweet image, that dark memory still haunted her. It seemed to
+her as if some mystic influence obliged her to recall the horrors of
+that night.
+
+"The curse of innocent blood has been upon me," she thought to herself.
+"I shall never know rest or peace till the murder of Valentine Jernam
+has been avenged."
+
+Lady Eversleigh went at once to her rooms in Percy Street, and Mr.
+Andrew Larkspur betook himself to certain haunts, in which he expected
+to glean some information. That he was not entirely unsuccessful will
+appear from his subsequent conversation with Lady Eversleigh. After an
+absence, in reality short, but which, to her suspense and impatience
+appeared of endless duration, Mr. Larkspur presented himself before
+her.
+
+"Well, Mr. Larkspur, what news?" she cried, eagerly, as he entered the
+room.
+
+"Not much, my lady; but there's something done, at any rate. I've found
+out one fact."
+
+"And what is that?"
+
+"That the little lady has not been taken out of the country. Now, you
+seem to know something of the man Milsom, my lady. Have you any idea
+whether there is any particular place where he'd be _likely_ to take
+little missy?"
+
+For some minutes Lady Eversleigh remained silent, evidently lost in
+thought.
+
+"Yes," she said, at last, "I do know something of that man's past
+career; so much, that the very mention of his name sends a thrill of
+horror through my heart. Yes, Mr. Larkspur, it is my misfortune to have
+known Black Milsom only too well in the bitter past."
+
+"If your ladyship wouldn't consider it a liberty," said the police-
+officer, with some hesitation, "I should very much like to put a
+question."
+
+"You are free to ask me what questions you please."
+
+"What I should like to ask is this," replied Mr. Larkspur, "when and
+where did your ladyship happen to meet Black Milsom? If you would only
+be so kind as to speak freely, it might be a great help to me in the
+work I've got in hand."
+
+Honoria did not answer him for some moments. She had risen from her
+chair, and was walking up and down the room in deep thought.
+
+"Will it help you in your search for my child," she said, at length,
+"if I tell you all I know?"
+
+"It may help me. I cannot venture to say more than that, my lady."
+
+"If there is even a chance, I must speak," replied Honoria. "I will
+tell you, then," she said, throwing herself into a chair, and fixing
+her grave, earnest eyes upon the face of her companion. "In order to
+tell you what I know of Black Milsom, I must go back to the days of my
+childhood. My first memories are bright ones; but they are so vague, so
+shadowy, that it is with difficulty I can distinguish realities from
+dreams; and yet I believe the things which I remember _must_ have been
+real. I have a faint recollection of a darkly beautiful face, that bent
+over me as I lay in some bed or cradle, softer and more luxurious than
+any bed I ever slept in for many years after that time. I remember a
+soft, sweet voice, that sang me to sleep. I remember that in the place
+I called home everything was beautiful."
+
+"And do you not even know where this home was?"
+
+"I know nothing of its locality. I was too young to remember the names
+of persons or places. But I have often fancied it was in Italy."
+
+"In Italy!"
+
+"Yes; for the first home which I really remember was a fisherman's hut,
+in a little village within a few miles of Naples. I was the only child
+in that miserable hovel--lonely, desolate, miserable, in the power of
+two wretches, whose presence filled me with loathing."
+
+"And they were--?"
+
+"An old woman, called Andrinetta--I know that, though I called her
+'nurse' when she was with me in the beautiful home I so dimly
+remember--and the man whom you have heard of under the name of Black
+Milsom."
+
+"Is he an Italian?" asked Andrew, astonished.
+
+"I don't know," replied Honoria. "In England he calls himself an
+Englishman--in Italy he is supposed to be an Italian. What his real
+calling was in those days I do not know; but I feel assured that it
+must been dark and unlawful as all his actions have been since that
+time. He pretended to get his living like the other fishermen in the
+neighbourhood; but he was often idle for a week at a time, and still
+more often, absent. I have seen him count over gold and jewels with old
+Andrinetta on his return from some expedition. To me he was harsh and
+cruel. I hated him, and he knew that I hated him. He ordered me to call
+him father, and I was more than once savagely beaten by him because I
+refused to do so. Under such treatment, in such a wretched home,
+deprived of all natural companionship, I grew wild and strange. My will
+was indomitable as the will of my tyrant; and on many occasions I
+resisted him boldly. Sometimes I ran away, and wandered for days
+together among the neighbouring hills and woods; but I returned always
+sooner or later to my miserable shelter, for I knew not where else to
+go. My lonely life had made me shrink from all human creatures, except
+the two wretches with whom I lived; and when the few neighbours would
+have shown me some kindness, I ran from them in wild, unreasoning
+terror."
+
+"Strange!" muttered the police-officer.
+
+"Yes; a strange history, is it not?" returned Lady Eversleigh. "And you
+wonder, no doubt, to hear of such a childhood from the lips of Sir
+Oswald Eversleigh's widow. One day I heard a neighbour reproaching the
+man with his cruel treatment of me. 'It is bad enough to have stolen
+the child,' he said; 'you shouldn't beat her as well.' From that hour I
+knew that I was a stolen child. I told him as much one night, and the
+next morning he took me to Naples, where, in the most obscure and yet
+most crowded part of the city, I lived for some years. 'Nobody will
+trouble himself about you here, my young princess,' my tyrant said to
+me. 'Children swarm by hundreds in all the alleys; you will only be one
+more drop of water in the ocean.'"
+
+There was a pause, during which Honoria sat in a meditative attitude,
+with her eyes fixed upon vacancy. It seemed as if she was looking back
+into the shadowy past.
+
+"I cannot tell you how wretched my life was for some time. Andrinetta
+had accompanied us to Naples; and soon I saw she was very ill, and she
+had fits of violence that approached insanity. Within doors she was my
+sole companion. The man only slept in the house, and at times was
+absent for months. How he earned his livelihood I knew no more than I
+had known in the little sea-side village. I now rarely saw jewels or
+gold in his possession; but at night, after he had gone to his chamber,
+I often heard the chink of golden coin through the thin partition which
+divided my room from his. I think in these days I must have perished
+body and soul if Providence had not sent me a friend in the person of a
+good Catholic priest--a noble and saintly old man--who visited the
+wretched dens of poverty and crime, and who discovered my desolate
+state. I need not dwell on that man's goodness to me; it is, doubtless,
+remembered in heaven, whither he may have gone before this time. He
+taught me, he comforted me, he rescued me from the abyss of
+wretchedness into which I had fallen. I took care to conceal his visits
+from my tyrant, for I knew how that wicked heart would revolt against
+my redemption from ignorance and misery. When I was fifteen years of
+age, Andrinetta died. One day, soon after her death--for me a most
+sorrowful day--Tomaso (as they called him there) told me that he was
+going to bring me to England, I came with him, and for two years I
+remained his companion. I will not speak of that time. I have told you
+now all that I can tell."
+
+"But the murder of Valentine Jernam!" exclaimed Andrew. "Suspicion
+pointed to this man; and you--you know something of that?"
+
+"I will not speak of that now," replied Honoria. "I have said enough.
+The day may come when I may speak more freely; but it has not yet
+arrived. Trust me that I will not impede the course of justice where
+this man is concerned. And now tell me, does my revelation afford one
+ray of light which may help to dispel the darkness that surrounds my
+Gertrude's fate?"
+
+"No, I cannot say it does. I cannot find out anything to indicate that
+she has been taken far away. I am sure she is in England, and that one
+of Milsom's pals, a man named Wayman--"
+
+Lady Eversleigh started, and exclaimed, "I know him! I know him! Go on!
+go on!"
+
+Larkspur directed a glance of keen and eager curiosity towards Lady
+Eversleigh. "You know Wayman?" he said.
+
+"Well, well," she repeated. "I know him to be an unscrupulous ruffian.
+If he knows where my child is, he will sell the secret for money, and
+we will give him money--any sum; do you think I shall count the cost of
+her safety?"
+
+"No, no," said Andrew Larkspur, "but you must not get so excited; keep
+quiet--tell me all you know of Wayman, and then we shall see our way."
+
+At this point of the conversation Jane Payland knocked at the door of
+her mistress's sitting-room, and the interview between Honoria and the
+police-officer was interrupted.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+
+                        "O, ABOVE MEASURE FALSE!"
+
+Victor Carrington was very well content with the state of affairs at
+Hilton House in all but one respect. The fulfilment of his purpose was
+not approaching with sufficient rapidity. The rich marriage which he
+had talked about for Reginald was a pure figment; the virtuous
+ironmonger, with the richly dowered daughter, existed only in his
+prolific brain--the need of money was growing pressing. He had done
+much, but there was still much to do, and he must make haste to do it.
+He had also been mistaken on one point of much importance to his
+success; he had not calculated on the strength of Douglas Dale's
+constitution. Each day that he dined with Paulina--and the days on
+which he did not were exceedingly few--Dale drank a small quantity of
+curacoa, into which Carrington had poured poison of a slow but sure
+nature. As the small carafon in which the liquor was placed upon the
+table was emptied, the poisoner never found any difficulty in gaining
+access to the fresh supply.
+
+The antique liquor-chest, with its fittings of Venetian glass was
+always kept on the side-board in the dining-room, and was never locked.
+Paulina had a habit of losing anything that came into her hands, and
+the key of the liquor-chest had long been missing.
+
+But the time was passing, and the poison was not telling, as far as he,
+the poisoner, could judge from appearances, on Douglas Dale. He never
+complained of illness, and beyond a slight lassitude, he did not seem
+to have anything the matter with him. This would not do. It behoved
+Carrington to expedite matters. His project was to accomplish the death
+of Douglas Dale by poison, throwing the burthen of suspicion--should
+suspicion arise--upon Paulina. To advance this purpose, he had
+industriously circulated reports of the most injurious character
+respecting her; so that Douglas Dale, if he had not been blinded and
+engrossed by his love, must have seen that he was regarded by the men
+whom he was in the habit of meeting even more coldly and curiously than
+when he had first boldly announced his engagement to Madame Durski. He
+made it known that Douglas Dale had made a will, by which the whole of
+his disposable property was bequeathed to Paulina, and circulated a
+rumour that the Austrian widow was utterly averse to the intended
+marriage, in feeling, and was only contracting it from interested
+motives.
+
+"If Dale was only out of the way, and his heir had come into the money,
+she would rather have Reginald," was a spiteful saying current among
+those who knew the lady and her suitor, and which had its unsuspected
+origin with Carrington. Supposing Dale to come to his death by poison,
+and that fact to be ascertained, who would be suspected but the woman
+who had everything to gain by his death, whose acknowledged lover was
+his next heir, and who succeeded by his will to all the property which
+did not go immediately into the possession of that acknowledged lover?
+The plan was admirably laid, and there was no apparent hitch in it, and
+it only remained now for Carrington to accelerate his proceedings. He
+still maintained reserve with Reginald Eversleigh, who would go to his
+house, and lounge purposelessly about, sullen and gloomy, but afraid to
+question the master-mind which had so completely subjugated his weak
+and craven nature.
+
+The engagement between Paulina and Douglas had lasted nearly two
+months, when a cloud overshadowed the horizon which had seemed so
+bright.
+
+Madame Durski became somewhat alarmed by a change in her lover's
+appearance, which struck her suddenly on one of his visits to the
+villa. For some weeks past she had seen him only by lamplight--that
+light which gives a delusive brightness to the countenance.
+
+To-day she saw him with the cold northern sunlight shining full upon
+his face; and for the first time she perceived that he had altered much
+of late.
+
+"Douglas," she said, earnestly, "how ill you are looking!"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+"Yes; I see it to-day for the first time, and I can only wonder that I
+never noticed it before. You have grown so much paler, so much thinner,
+within the last few weeks. I am sure you cannot be well."
+
+"My dearest Paulina, pray do not look at me with such alarm," said
+Douglas, gently. "Believe me, there is nothing particular the matter. I
+have not been quite myself for the last few weeks, I admit--a touch of
+low fever, I think; but there is not the slightest occasion for fear on
+your part."
+
+"Oh, Douglas," exclaimed Paulina, "how can you speak so carelessly of a
+subject so vital to me? I implore you to consult a physician
+immediately."
+
+"I assure you, my dearest, it is not necessary. There is nothing really
+the matter."
+
+"Douglas, I beg and entreat you to see a physician directly. I entreat
+it as a favour to me."
+
+"My dear Paulina, I am ready to do anything you wish."
+
+"You will promise me, then, to see a doctor you can trust, without an
+hour's unnecessary delay?"
+
+"I promise, with all my heart," replied Douglas. "Ah, Paulina, what
+happiness to think that my life is of some slight value to her I love
+so fondly!"
+
+No more was said upon the subject; but during dinner, and throughout
+the evening, Paulina's eyes fixed themselves every now and then with an
+anxious, scrutinizing gaze upon her lover's face.
+
+When he had left her, she mentioned her fears to her _confidante_ and
+shadow, Miss Brewer.
+
+"Do you not see a change in Mr. Dale?" she asked.
+
+"A change! What kind of change?"
+
+"Do you not perceive an alteration in his appearance? In plainer words,
+do you not think him looking very ill?"
+
+Miss Brewer, generally so impassive, started, and looked at her
+patroness with a gaze in which alarm was plainly visible.
+
+She had hazarded so much in order to bring about a marriage between
+Douglas and her patroness; and what if mortality's dread enemy, Death,
+should forbid the banns?
+
+"Ill!" she exclaimed; "do you think Mr. Dale is ill?"
+
+"I do, indeed; and he confesses as much himself, though he makes light
+of the matter. He talks of low fever. I cannot tell you how much he has
+alarmed me."
+
+"There may be nothing serious in it," answered Miss Brewer, with some
+hesitation. "One is so apt to take alarm about trifles which a doctor
+would laugh at. I dare say Mr. Dale only requires change of air. A
+London life is not calculated to improve any one's health."
+
+"Perhaps that is the cause of his altered appearance," replied Paulina,
+only too glad to be reassured as to her lover's safety. "I will beg him
+to take change of air. But he has promised to see a doctor to-morrow:
+when he comes to me in the afternoon I shall hear what the doctor has
+said."
+
+Douglas Dale was very much inclined to make light of the slight
+symptoms of ill-health which had oppressed him for some time--a
+languor, a sense of thirst and fever, which were very wearing in their
+effect, but which he attributed to the alternations of excitement and
+agitation that he had undergone of late.
+
+He was, however, too much a man of honour to break the promise made to
+Paulina.
+
+He went early on the following morning to Savile Row, where he called
+upon Dr. Harley Westbrook, a physician of some eminence, to whom he
+carefully described the symptoms of which he had complained to Paulina.
+
+"I do not consider myself really ill," he said, in conclusion; "but I
+have come to you in obedience to the wish of a friend."
+
+"I am very glad that you have come to me," answered Dr. Westbrook,
+gravely.
+
+"Indeed! do you, then, consider the symptoms alarming?"
+
+"Well, no, not at present; but I may go so far as to say that you have
+done very wisely in placing yourself under medical treatment. It is a
+most interesting case," added the doctor with an air of satisfaction
+that was almost enjoyment.
+
+He then asked his patient a great many questions, some of which Douglas
+Dale considered frivolous, or, indeed, absurd; questions about his
+diet, his habits: questions even about the people with whom he
+associated, the servants who waited upon him.
+
+These latter inquiries might have seemed almost impertinent, if Dr.
+Westbrook's elevated position had not precluded such an idea.
+
+"You dine at your club, or in your chambers, eh, Mr. Dale?" he asked.
+
+"Neither at my club, nor my chambers; I dine every day with a friend."
+
+"Indeed; always with the same friend?"
+
+"Always the same."
+
+"And you breakfast?"
+
+"At my chambers."
+
+Here followed several questions as to the nature of the breakfast.
+
+"These sort of ailments depend so much on diet," said the physician, as
+if to justify the closeness of his questioning. "Your servant prepares
+your breakfast, of course--is he a person whom you can trust?"
+
+"Yes; he is an old servant of my father's. I could trust him implicitly
+in far more important matters than the preparation of my breakfast."
+
+"Indeed! Will you pardon me if I ask rather a strange question?"
+
+"Certainly, if it is a necessary one."
+
+"Answered like a lawyer, Mr. Dale," replied Dr. Westbrook, with a
+smile. "I want to know whether this old and trusted servant of yours
+has any beneficial interest in your death?"
+
+"Interest in my death--"
+
+"In plainer words, has he reason to think that you have put him down in
+your will--supposing that you have made a will; which is far from
+probable?"
+
+"Well, yes," replied Douglas, thoughtfully; "I have made a will within
+the last few months, and Jarvis, my old servant knows that he is
+provided for, in the event of surviving me--not a very likely event,
+according to the ordinary hazards; but a man is bound to prepare for
+every contingency."
+
+"You told your servant that you had provided for him?"
+
+"I did. He has been such an excellent creature, that it was only
+natural I should leave him comfortably situated in the event of my
+death."
+
+"No; to be sure," answered the physician, with rather an absent manner.
+"And now I need trouble you with no further questions this morning.
+Come to me in a few days, and in the meantime take the medicine I
+prescribe for you."
+
+Dr. Westbrook wrote a prescription, and Mr. Dale departed, very much
+perplexed by his interview with the celebrated physician.
+
+Douglas went to Fulham that evening as usual, and the first question
+Paulina asked related to his interview with the doctor.
+
+"You have seen a medical man?" she asked.
+
+"I have; and you may set your mind at rest, dearest. He assures me that
+there is nothing serious the matter."
+
+Paulina was entirely reassured, and throughout that evening she was
+brighter and happier than usual in the society of her lover--more
+lovely, more bewitching than ever, as it seemed to Douglas.
+
+He waited a week before calling again on the physician; and he might,
+perhaps, have delayed his visit even longer, had he not felt that the
+fever and languor from which he suffered increased rather than abated.
+
+This time Dr. Westbrook's manner seemed graver and more perplexed than
+on the former visit. He asked even more questions, and at last, after a
+thoughtful examination of the patient, he said, very seriously--
+
+"Mr. Dale, I must tell you frankly that I do not like your symptoms."
+
+"You consider them alarming?"
+
+"I consider them perplexing, rather than alarming. And as you are not a
+nervous subject I think I may venture to trust you fully."
+
+"You may trust in the strength of my nerve, if that is what you mean."
+
+"I believe I may, and I shall have to test your moral courage and
+general force of character."
+
+"Pray be brief, then," said Douglas with a faint smile. "I can almost
+guess what you have to say. You are going to tell me that I carry the
+seeds of a mortal disease; that the shadowy hand of death already holds
+me in its fatal grip."
+
+"I am going to tell you nothing of the kind," answered Dr. Westbrook.
+"I can find no symptoms of disease. You have a very fair lease of life,
+Mr. Dale, and may enjoy a green old age, if other people would allow
+you to enjoy it."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that if I can trust my own judgment in a matter which is
+sometimes almost beyond the reach of science, the symptoms from which
+you suffer are those of slow poisoning."
+
+"Slow poisoning!" replied Douglas, in almost inaudible accents. "It is
+impossible!" he exclaimed, after a pause, during which the physician
+waited quietly until his patient should have in some manner recovered
+his calmness of mind. "It is quite impossible. I have every confidence
+in your skill, your science; but in this instance, Dr. Westbrook, I
+feel assured that you are mistaken."
+
+"I would gladly think so, Mr. Dale," replied the doctor, gravely; "but
+I cannot. I have given my best thought to your case. I can only form
+one conclusion--namely, that you are labouring under the effects of
+poison."
+
+"Do you know what the poison is?"
+
+"I do not; but I do know that it must have been administered with a
+caution that is almost diabolical in its ingenuity--so slowly, by such
+imperceptible degrees, that you have scarcely been aware of the change
+which it has worked in your system. It was a most providential
+circumstance that you came to me when you did, as I have been able to
+discover the treachery to which you are subject while there is yet
+ample time for you to act against it. Forewarned is forearmed, you
+know, Mr. Dale. The hidden hand of the secret poisoner is about its
+fatal work; it is for you and me to discover to whom the hand belongs.
+Is there any one about you whom you can suspect of such hideous guilt?"
+
+"No one--no one. I repeat that such a thing is impossible."
+
+"Who is the person most interested in your death?" asked Dr. Westbrook,
+calmly.
+
+"My first cousin, Sir Reginald Eversleigh, who would succeed to a very
+handsome income in that event. But I have not met him, or, at any rate,
+broke bread with him, for the last two months. Nor can I for a moment
+believe him capable of such infamy."
+
+"If you have not been in intimate association with him for the last two
+months, you may absolve him from all suspicion," answered Dr.
+Westbrook. "You spoke to me the other day of dining very frequently
+with one particular friend; forgive me if I ask an unpleasant question.
+Is that friend a person whom you can trust?"
+
+"That friend I could trust with a hundred lives, if I had them to
+lose," Douglas replied, warmly.
+
+The doctor looked at his patient thoughtfully. He was a man of the
+world, and the warmth of Mr. Dale's manner told him that the friend in
+question was a woman.
+
+"Has the person whom you trust so implicitly any beneficial interest in
+your death?" he asked.
+
+"To some amount; but that person would gain much more by my continuing
+to live."
+
+"Indeed; then we must needs fall back upon my original idea and painful
+as it may be to you, the old servant must become the object of your
+suspicion."
+
+"I cannot believe him capable--"
+
+"Come, come, Mr. Dale," interrupted the physician. "We must look at
+things as men of the world. It is your duty to ascertain by whom this
+poison has been administered, in order to protect yourself from the
+attacks of your insidious destroyer. If you will follow my advice, you
+will do this; if, on the other hand, you elect to shut your eyes to the
+danger that assails you, I can only tell you that you will most
+assuredly pay for your folly by the forfeit of your life."
+
+"What am I to do?" asked Douglas.
+
+"You say that your habits of life are almost rigid in their regularity.
+You always breakfast in your own chambers; you always dine and take
+your after-dinner coffee in the house of one particular friend. With
+the exception of a biscuit and a glass of sherry taken sometimes at
+your club, these two meals are all you take during the day. It is,
+therefore, an indisputable fact, that poison has bee a administered at
+one or other of these two meals. Your old butler serves one--the
+servants of your friend prepare the other. Either in your own chambers,
+or in your friend's house, you have a hidden foe. It is for you to find
+out where that foe lurks."
+
+"Not in her house," gasped Douglas, unconsciously betraying the depth
+of his feeling and the sex of his friend; "not in hers. It must be
+Jarvis whom I have to fear--and yet, no, I cannot believe it. My
+father's old servant--a man who used to carry me in his arms when I was
+a boy!"
+
+"You may easily set the question of his guilt or innocence at rest, Mr.
+Dale," answered Dr. Westbrook. "Contrive to separate yourself from him
+for a time. If during that time you find your symptoms cease, you will
+have the strongest evidence of his guilt; if they still continue, you
+must look elsewhere."
+
+"I will take your advice," replied Douglas, with a weary sigh;
+"anything is better than suspense."
+
+Little more was said.
+
+As Douglas walked slowly from the physician's house to the Phoenix
+Club, he meditated profoundly on the subject of his interview with Dr.
+Westbrook.
+
+"Who is the traitor?" he asked himself. "Who? Unhappily there can be no
+doubt about it. Jarvis is the guilty wretch."
+
+It was with unspeakable pain that Douglas Dale contemplated the idea of
+his old servant's guilt: his old servant, who had seemed a model of
+fidelity and devotion!
+
+This very man had attended the deathbed of the rector--Douglas Dale's
+father--had been recommended by that father to the care of his two
+sons, had exhibited every appearance of intense grief at the loss of
+his master.
+
+What could he think, except that Jarvis was guilty? There was but one
+other direction in which he could look for guilt, and there surely it
+could not be found.
+
+Who in Hilton House had any interest in his death, except that one
+person who was above the possibility of suspicion?
+
+He sat by his solitary breakfast-table on the morning after his
+interview with the physician, and watched Jarvis as he moved to and
+fro, waiting on his master with what seemed affectionate attention.
+
+Douglas ate little. A failing appetite had been one of the symptoms
+that accompanied the low fever from which he had lately suffered.
+
+This morning, depression of spirits rendered him still less inclined to
+eat.
+
+He was thinking of Jarvis and of the past--those careless, happy,
+childish days, in which this man had been second only to his own
+kindred in his boyish affection.
+
+While he meditated gravely upon this most painful subject, deliberating
+as to the manner in which he should commence a conversation that was
+likely to be a very serious one, he happened to look up, and perceived
+that he was watched by the man he had been lately watching. His eyes
+met the gaze of his old servant, and he beheld a strange earnestness in
+that gaze.
+
+The old man did not flinch on meeting his master's glance.
+
+"I beg your pardon for looking at you so hard, Mr. Douglas," he said;
+"but I was thinking about you very serious, sir, when you looked up."
+
+"Indeed, Jarvis, and why?"
+
+"Why you see, sir, it was about your appetite as I was thinking. It's
+fallen off dreadful within the last few weeks. The poor breakfastes as
+you eats is enough to break a man's heart. And you don't know the pains
+as I take, sir, to tempt you in the way of breakfastes. That fish, sir,
+I fetched from Grove's this morning with my own hands. They comes up in
+a salt-water tank in the bottom of their own boat, sir, as lively as if
+they was still in their natural eleming, Grove's fish do. But they
+might be red herrings for any notice as you take of 'em. You're not
+yourself, Mr. Douglas, that's what it is. You're ill, Mr. Douglas, and
+you ought to see a doctor. Excuse my presumption, sir, in making these
+remarks; but if an old family servant that has nursed you on his knees
+can't speak free, who can?"
+
+"True," Douglas answered with a sigh; "I was a very small boy when you
+carried me on your shoulders to many a country fair, and you were very
+good to me, Jarvis."
+
+"Only my dooty, sir," muttered the old man.
+
+"You are right, Jarvis, as to my health--I am ill."
+
+"Then you'll send for a doctor, surely, Mr. Douglas."
+
+"I have already seen a doctor."
+
+"And what do he say, sir?"
+
+"He says my case is very serious."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Douglas, don't 'ee say that, don't 'ee say that," cried the
+old man, in extreme distress.
+
+"I can only tell you the truth, Jarvis," answered Douglas: "but there
+is no occasion for despair. The physician tells me that my case is a
+grave one, but he does not say that it is hopeless."
+
+"Why don't 'ee consult another doctor, Mr. Douglas," said Jarvis;
+"perhaps that one ain't up to his work. If it's such a difficult case,
+you ought to go to all the best doctors in London, till you find the
+one that can cure you. A fine, well-grown young gentleman like you
+oughtn't to have much the matter with him. I don't see as it can be
+very serious."
+
+"I don't know about that, Jarvis; but in any case I have resolved upon
+doing something for you."
+
+"For me, sir! Lor' bless your generous heart, I don't want nothing in
+this mortal world."
+
+"But you may, Jarvis," replied Douglas. "You have already been told
+that I have provided for you in case of my death."
+
+"Yes, sir, you was so good as to say you had left me an annuity, and it
+was very kind of you to think of such a thing, and I'm duly thankful.
+But still you see, sir, I can't help looking at it in the light of a
+kind of joke, sir; for it ain't in human nature that an old chap like
+me is going to outlive a young gentleman like you; and Lord forbid that
+it should be in human nature for such a thing to happen."
+
+"We never know what may happen, Jarvis. At any rate, I have provided
+against the worst. But as you are getting old, and have worked hard all
+your life, I think you must want rest; so, instead of putting you off
+till my death, I shall give you your annuity at once, and you may
+retire into a comfortable little house of your own, and live the life
+of an elderly gentleman, with a decent little income, as soon as you
+please."
+
+To the surprise of Douglas Dale, the old man's countenance expressed
+only grief and mortification on hearing an announcement which his
+master had supposed would have been delightful to him.
+
+"Begging your pardon, sir," he faltered; "but have you seen a younger
+servant as you like better and as could serve you better, than poor
+old Jarvis?"
+
+"No, indeed," answered Douglas, "I have seen no such person. Nor do I
+believe that any one in the world could serve me as well as you."
+
+"Then why do you want to change, sir?"
+
+"I don't want to change. I only want to make you happy, Jarvis."
+
+"Then make me happy by letting me stay with you," pleaded the old
+servant. "Let me stay, sir. Don't talk about annuities. I want nothing
+from you but the pleasure of waiting on my dear old master's son. It's
+as much delight to me to wait upon you now as it was to me twenty years
+ago to carry you to the country fairs on my shoulder. Ah, we did have
+rare times of it then, didn't we, sir? Let me stay, and when I die give
+me a grave somewhere hard by where you live; and if, once in a way,
+when you pass the churchyard where I lay, you should give a sigh, and
+say, 'Poor old Jarvis!' that will be a full reward to me for having
+loved you so dear ever since you was a baby."
+
+Was this acting? Was this the perfect simulation of an accomplished
+hypocrite? No, no, no; Douglas Dale could not believe it.
+
+The tears came into his eyes; he extended his hand, and grasped that of
+his old servant.
+
+"You _shall_ stay with me, Jarvis," he said; "and I will trust you with
+all my heart."
+
+Douglas Dale left his chambers soon after that conversation, and went
+straight to Dr. Westbrook, to whom he gave a fall account of the
+interview.
+
+"I have tested the old man thoroughly," he said, in conclusion; "and I
+believe him to be fidelity itself."
+
+"You have tested him, Mr. Dale! stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed the
+practical physician. "You surely don't call that sentimental
+conversation a test? If the man is capable of being a slow poisoner, he
+is, of course, capable of acting a part, and shedding crocodile's tears
+in evidence of his devoted affection for the master whose biliary
+organs he is deranging by the administration of antimony, or aconite.
+If you want to test the man thoroughly, test him in my way. Contrive to
+eat your breakfast elsewhere for a week or two; touch nothing, not so
+much as a glass of water, in your own chambers; and if at the end of
+that time the symptoms have ceased, you will know what to think of that
+pattern of fidelity--Mr. Jarvis."
+
+Douglas promised to take the doctor's advice. He was convinced of his
+servant's innocence; but he wanted to put that question beyond doubt.
+
+But if Jarvis was indeed innocent, where was the guilty wretch to be
+found?
+
+Douglas Dale dined at Hilton House upon the evening after his interview
+with Dr. Westbrook, as he had done without intermission for several
+weeks. He found Paulina tender and affectionate, as she had ever been
+of late, since respect and esteem for her lover's goodness had
+developed into a warmer feeling.
+
+"Douglas," she said, on this particular evening, when they were alone
+together for a few minutes after dinner, "your health has not improved
+as much as I had hoped it would under the treatment of your doctor. I
+wish you would consult some one else."
+
+She spoke lightly, for she feared to alarm the patient by any
+appearance of fear on her part. She knew how physical disease may be
+augmented by mental agitation. Her tone, therefore, was one of assumed
+carelessness.
+
+To-night Douglas Dale's mind was peculiarly sensitive to every
+impression. Something in that assumed tone struck strangely upon his
+ear. For the first time since he had known her, the voice of the woman
+he loved, seemed to him to have a false sound in its clear, ringing
+tones.
+
+An icy terror suddenly took possession of his mind.
+
+What if this woman--this woman, whom he loved with such intense
+affection--what if she were something other than she seemed! What if
+her heart had never been his--her love never withdrawn from the
+reprobate upon whom she had once bestowed it! What if her tender
+glances, her affectionate words, her graceful, caressing manner, were
+all a comedy, of which he was the dupe! What if--
+
+"I am the victim of treachery," he thought to himself; "but the traitor
+cannot be here. Oh, no, no! let me find the traitor anywhere rather
+than here."
+
+Paulina watched her lover as he sat with his eyes fixed on the ground,
+absorbed in gloomy meditation.
+
+Presently he looked up suddenly, and addressed her.
+
+"I am going on a journey, Paulina, on business," he said; "business,
+which I can only transact myself. I shall, therefore, be compelled to
+be absent from you for a week; it may be even more. Perhaps we shall
+never meet again. Will that be very distressing to you?"
+
+"Douglas," exclaimed Paulina, "how strangely you speak to me to-night!
+If this is a jest, it is a very cruel one."
+
+"It is no jest, Paulina," answered her lover. "Life is very precarious,
+and within the last week I have learnt to consider my existence in
+imminent peril."
+
+"You are ill, Douglas," said Paulina; "and illness has unnerved you.
+Pray do not give way to these depressing thoughts. Consult some other
+physician than the man who is now your adviser."
+
+"Yes, yes; I will do so," answered Douglas, with, a sudden change of
+tone; "you are right, Paulina. I will not be so weak as to become the
+prey of these distressing fancies, these dark forebodings. What have I
+to fear? Death is no terrible evil. It is but the common fate of all. I
+can face that common doom as calmly as a Christian should face it. But
+deceit, treachery, falsehood from those we love--those are evils far
+more terrible than death. Oh, Paulina! tell me that I have no need to
+fear those?"
+
+"From whom should you fear them, Douglas!"
+
+"Aye, from whom, that is the question! Not from you, Paulina?"
+
+"From me!" she echoed, with a look of wonder. "Are you mad?"
+
+"Swear--swear to me that there is no falsehood in your heart, Paulina;
+that you love me as truly as you have taught me to believe; that you
+have not beguiled me with false words, as false as they are sweet!"
+cried the young man, in wild excitement.
+
+"My dear Douglas, this is madness!" exclaimed Madame Durski; "folly too
+wild for reproof. This passionate excitement must be surely the effect
+of fever. What can I say to you except that I love you truly and
+dearly; that my heart has been purified, my mind elevated by your
+influence; that I have now no thought which is not known to you--no
+hope that does not rest itself upon your love. You ought to believe
+this, Douglas, for my every word, my every look, should speak the
+truth, which I do not care to reiterate in protestations such as these.
+It is too painful to me to be doubted by you."
+
+"And if I have wronged you, I am a base wretch," said Douglas, in a low
+voice.
+
+Early the following morning he paid another visit to Dr. Westbrook.
+
+"I will not trespass on your time this morning," he said, after shaking
+hands with the physician. "I have only come here in order to ask one
+question. If the poison were discontinued for a week, would there be
+any cessation of the symptoms?"
+
+"There would," replied the doctor. "Nature is quick to reassert
+herself. But if you are about to test your butler, I should recommend
+you to remain away longer than a week--say a fortnight."
+
+But it was not to test his old servant that Douglas Dale absented
+himself from London, though he had allowed the physician to believe
+that such was his intention. He started for Paris that night; but he
+took Jarvis with him.
+
+His health improved day by day, hour by hour, from the day of his
+parting from Paulina Durski. The low fever had left him before he had
+been ten days in Paris; the perpetual thirst, the wearisome debility,
+left him also. He began to be his old self again; and to him this
+recovery was far more terrible than the worst possible symptoms of
+disease could have been, for it told him that the hidden foe who had
+robbed him of health and strength, was to be found at Hilton House.
+
+In that house there was but one person who would profit by Douglas
+Dale's death, and she would profit largely.
+
+"She has never loved me," he thought to himself. "She still loves
+Reginald Eversleigh. My death will give her both fortune and liberty;
+it will leave her free to wed the man she really loves."
+
+He no longer trusted his own love. He believed that he had been made
+the dupe of a woman's treachery; and that the hand which had so often
+been pressed passionately to his lips, was the hand which, day by day,
+had mingled poison with his cup, sapping his life by slow degrees.
+Against the worldly wisdom of his friends he had opposed the blind
+instinct of his love; and now that events conspired to condemn this
+woman, he wondered that he could ever have trusted her.
+
+At the end of a fortnight Douglas Dale returned from Paris, and went
+immediately to Paulina. He believed that he had been the dupe of an
+accomplished actress--the vilest and most heartless of women--and he
+was now acting a part, in order to fathom the depth of her iniquity.
+
+"Let me know her--let me know her in all her baseness," he said to
+himself. "Let me tax the murderess with her crime! and then, surely,
+this mad love will be plucked for ever from my heart, and I shall find
+peace far from the false syren whose sorcery has embittered my life."
+
+Douglas had received several letters from Paulina during his visit to
+Paris--letters breathing the most devoted and disinterested love; but
+to him every word seemed studied, every expression false. Those very
+letters would, a few short weeks ago, have seemed to Douglas the
+perfection of truth and artlessness.
+
+He returned to England wondrously restored to health. Jarvis had been
+his constant attendant in Paris, and had brought him every morning a
+cup of coffee made by his own hands.
+
+At the Temple, he found a note from Paulina, telling him that he was
+expected hourly at Hilton House.
+
+He lost no time in presenting himself. He endeavoured to stifle all
+emotion--to conquer the impatience that possessed him; but he could
+not.
+
+Madame Durski was seated by one of the windows in the drawing-room when
+Mr. Dale was announced.
+
+She received her lover with every appearance of affection, and with an
+emotion which she seemed only anxious to conceal.
+
+But to the jaundiced mind of Douglas Dale this suppressed emotion
+appeared only a superior piece of acting; and yet, as he looked at his
+betrothed, while she stood before him, perfect, peerless, in her
+refined loveliness, his heart was divided by love and hate. He hated
+the guilt which he believed was hers. He loved her even yet, despite
+that guilt.
+
+"You are very pale, Douglas," she said after the first greetings were
+over. "But, thank heaven, there is a wonderful improvement. I can see
+restored health in your face. The fever has gone--the unnatural
+brightness has left your eyes. Oh, dearest, how happy it makes me to
+see this change! You can never know what I suffered when I saw you
+drooping, day by day."
+
+"Yes, day by day, Paulina," answered the young man, gravely. "It was a
+gradual decay of health and strength--my life ebbing slowly--almost
+imperceptibly--but not the less surely."
+
+"And you are better, Douglas? You feel and know yourself that there is
+a change?"
+
+"Yes, Paulina. My recovery began in the hour in which I left London. My
+health has improved from that time."
+
+"You required change of air, no doubt. How foolish your doctor must
+have been not to recommend that in the first instance! And now that
+you have returned, may I hope to see you as often as of old? Shall we
+renew all our old habits, and go back to our delightful evenings?"
+
+"Were those evenings really pleasant to you, Paulina?" asked Mr. Dale,
+earnestly.
+
+"Ah, Douglas, you must know they were!"
+
+"I cannot know the secrets of your heart, Paulina," he replied, with
+unspeakable sadness in his tone. "You have seemed to me all that is
+bright, and pure, and true. But how do I know that it is not all
+seeming? How do I know that Reginald Eversleigh's image may not still
+hold a place in your heart?"
+
+"You insult me, Douglas!" exclaimed Madame Durski, with dignity. "But I
+will not suffer myself to be angry with you on the day of your return.
+I see your health is not entirely restored, since you still harbour
+these gloomy thoughts and unjust suspicions."
+
+His most searching scrutiny could perceive no traces of guilt in the
+lovely face he looked at so anxiously. For a while his suspicions were
+almost lulled to rest. That soft white hand, which glittered with gems
+that had been his gift, could not be the hand of an assassin.
+
+He began to feel the soothing influence of hope. Night and day he
+prayed that he might discover the innocence of her he so fondly loved.
+But just as he had begun to abandon himself to that sweet influence,
+despair again took possession of him. All the old symptoms--the fever,
+the weakness, the unnatural thirst, the dry, burning sensation in his
+throat--returned; and this time Jarvis was far away. His master had
+sent him to pay a visit to a married daughter, comfortably settled in
+the depths of Devonshire.
+
+Douglas Dale went to one of the most distinguished physicians in London.
+He was determined to consult a new adviser, in order to discover
+whether the opinion of that other adviser would agree with the opinion
+of Dr. Harley Westbrook.
+
+Dr. Chippendale, the new physician, asked all the questions previously
+asked by Dr. Westbrook, and, after much deliberation, he informed his
+patient, with all proper delicacy and caution, that he was suffering
+from the influence of slow poison.
+
+"Is my life in danger, Dr. Chippendale?" he asked.
+
+"Not in immediate danger. The poison has evidently been administered in
+infinitesimal doses. But you cannot too soon withdraw yourself from all
+those who now surround you. Life is not to be tampered with. The
+poisoner may take it into his head to increase the doses."
+
+Douglas Dale left his adviser after a long conversation. He then went
+to take his farewell of Paulina Durski.
+
+There was no longer the shadow of doubt in his mind. The horrible
+certainty seemed painfully clear to him. Love must be plucked for ever
+from his breast, and only contempt and loathing must remain where that
+divine sentiment had been enthroned.
+
+Since his interview with the physician, he had carefully recalled to
+memory all the details of his life in Paulina's society.
+
+She had given him day by day an allotted portion of poison.
+
+How had she administered it?
+
+This was the question which he now sought to solve, for he no longer
+asked himself whether she was guilty or innocent. He remembered that
+every evening after dinner he had, in Continental fashion, taken a
+single glass of liqueur; and this he had received from Paulina's own
+hand. It had pleased him to take the tiny, fragile glass from those
+taper fingers. The delicate liqueur had seemed sweeter to him because
+it was given by Paulina.
+
+He now felt convinced that it was in this glass of liqueur the poison
+had been administered to him.
+
+On more than one occasion he had at first declined taking it; but
+Paulina had always persuaded him, with some pretty speech, some half
+coquettish, half caressing action.
+
+He found her waiting him as usual: her toilet perfection itself; her
+beauty enhanced by the care with which she always strove to render
+herself charming in his eyes. She said playfully that it was a tribute
+which she offered to her benefactor.
+
+They dined together, with Miss Brewer for their sole companion. She
+seemed self-contained and emotionless as ever; but if Douglas had not
+been so entirely absorbed by his thoughts of Paulina, he might have
+perceived that she looked at him ever and anon with furtive, but
+searching glances.
+
+There was little conversation, little gaiety at that dinner. Douglas
+was absent-minded and gloomy. He scarcely ate anything; but the
+constant thirst from which he suffered obliged him to drink long
+draughts of water.
+
+After dinner, Miss Brewer brought the glasses and the liqueur to Madame
+Durski, after her customary manner.
+
+Paulina filled the ruby-stemmed glass with curacoa, and handed it to
+her lover.
+
+"No, Paulina, I shall take no liqueur to-night."
+
+"Why not, Douglas?"
+
+"I am not well," he replied, "and I am growing rather tired of
+curacoa."
+
+"As you please," said Paulina, as she replaced the delicate glass in
+the stand from which she had just taken it.
+
+Miss Brewer had left the room, and the lovers were alone together. They
+were seated face to face at the prettily decorated table--one with
+utter despair in his heart.
+
+"Shall I tell you why I would not take that glass from your hands just
+now, Paulina Durski?" asked Douglas, after a brief pause, rising to
+leave the table as he spoke. "Or will you spare me the anguish of
+speaking words that must cover you with shame?"
+
+"I do not understand you," murmured Paulina, looking at her lover with
+a gaze of mingled terror and bewilderment.
+
+"Oh, Paulina!" cried Douglas; "why still endeavour to sustain a
+deception which I have unmasked? I know all."
+
+"All what?" gasped the bewildered woman.
+
+"All your guilt--all your baseness. Oh, Paulina, confess the treachery
+which would have robbed me of life; and which, failing that, has for
+ever destroyed my peace. If you are human, let some word of remorse,
+some tardy expression of regret, attest your womanhood."
+
+"I can only think that he is mad," murmured Paulina to herself, as she
+gazed on her accuser with wondering eyes.
+
+"Paulina, at least do not pretend to misunderstand me."
+
+"Your words," replied Madame Durski, "seem to me the utterances of a
+madman. For pity's sake, calm yourself, and speak plainly."
+
+"I think that I have spoken, very plainly."
+
+"I can discover no meaning in your words. What is it you would have me
+regret? Of what crime do you accuse me?"
+
+"The worst and darkest of all crimes," replied Douglas; "the crime of
+murder."
+
+"Murder?"
+
+"Yes; the crime of the secret poisoner!"
+
+"Douglas!" cried Paulina, with a stifled shriek of terror; and then,
+recoiling from him suddenly, she fell half fainting into a chair. "Oh,
+why do I try to reason with him?" she murmured, piteously; "he is mad--
+he is mad! My poor Douglas!" continued Paulina, sobbing hysterically,
+"you are mad yourself, and you will drive me mad. Do not speak to me.
+Leave me to myself. You have terrified me by your wild denunciations.
+Leave me, Douglas: for pity's sake, leave me."
+
+"I will leave you, Paulina," answered her lover, in a grave, sad voice;
+"and our parting will be for ever. You cannot deny your guilt, and you
+can no longer deceive me."
+
+"Do as you please," replied Madame Durski, her passionate indignation
+changing suddenly to an icy calmness. "You have wronged me so deeply,
+you have insulted me so shamefully, that it matters little what further
+wrong or insult I suffer at your hands. In my own justification, I will
+say but this--I am as incapable of the guilt you talk of as I am of
+understanding how such a wild and groundless accusation can come from
+you, Douglas Dale, my affianced husband--the man I have loved and
+trusted, the man whom I have believed the very model of honour and
+generosity. But this must be madness, and I am not bound to endure the
+ravings of a lunatic. You have said our farewell was to be spoken to-
+night. Let it be so. I could not endure a repetition of the scene with
+which you have just favoured me. I regret most deeply that your
+generosity has burthened me with, pecuniary obligations which I may
+never be able to repay, and has, in some measure, deprived me of
+independence. But even at the hazard of being considered ungrateful, I
+must tell you that I trust we may meet no more."
+
+No one can tell the anguish which Paulina Durski endured as she uttered
+these words in cold, measured accents. It was the supreme effort of a
+proud, but generous-minded woman, and there was a kind of heroism in
+that subjugation of a stricken and loving heart.
+
+"Let it be so, Paulina," answered Douglas, with emotion. "I have no
+wish to see your fair, false face again. My heart has been broken by
+your treachery; and my best hope lies in the chance that your hand may
+have already done its wicked work, and that my life may be forfeited to
+my confidence in your affection. Let no thought of my gifts trouble
+you. The fortune which was to have been shared with you is henceforth
+powerless to purchase one blessing for me. And of the law which you
+have outraged you need have no few; your secret will never be revealed
+to mortal ears by me. No investigation will drag to light the details
+of your crime."
+
+"_You_ may seek no investigation, Douglas Dale," cried Paulina, with
+sudden passion; "but I shall do so, and without delay. You have accused
+me of a foul and treacherous crime--on what proof I know not. It is for
+me to prove myself innocent of that black iniquity; and if human
+ingenuity can fathom the mystery, it shall be fathomed. I will bring
+you to my feet--yes, to my feet; and you shall beseech my pardon for
+the wicked wrong you have done me. But even then this breach of your
+own making shall for ever separate us. I may learn to forgive you,
+Douglas, but I can never trust you again. And now go."
+
+She pointed to the door with an imperious gesture. There was a quiet
+dignity in her manner and her bearing which impressed her accuser in
+spite of himself.
+
+He bowed, and without another word left the presence of the woman who
+for so long had been the idol of his heart.
+
+He went from her presence bowed to the very dust by a sorrow which was
+too deep for tears.
+
+"She is an accomplished actress," he said to himself; "and to the very
+last her policy has been defiance. And now my dream is ended, and I
+awake to a blank, joyless life. A strange fatality seems to have
+attended Sir Oswald Eversleigh and the inheritors of his wealth. He
+died broken-hearted by a woman's falsehood; my brother Lionel bestowed
+his best affections on the mercenary, fashionable coquette, Lydia
+Graham, who was ready to accept another lover within a few weeks of her
+pretended devotion to him; and lastly comes my misery at the hands of a
+wicked adventuress."
+
+Douglas Dale resolved to leave London early next day. He returned to
+his Temple chambers, intending to start for the Continent the next
+morning.
+
+But when the next day came he did not carry out his intention. He found
+himself disinclined to seek change of scene, which he felt could bring
+him no relief of mind. Go where he would, he could not separate himself
+from the bitter memories of the past few months.
+
+He determined to remain in London; for, to the man who wishes to avoid
+the companionship of his fellow-men, there is no hermitage more secure
+than a lodging in the heart of busy, selfish London. He determined to
+remain, for in London he could obtain information as to the conduct of
+Paulina.
+
+What would she do now that the stage-play was ended, and deception
+could no longer avail? Would she once more resume her old habits--open
+her saloons to the patrician gamblers of West-end London, and steep her
+weary, guilt-burdened soul in the mad intoxication of the gaming-table?
+
+Would Sir Reginald Eversleigh again assume his old position in her
+household?--again become her friend and flatterer? She had affected to
+despise him; but that might have been only a part of the great
+deception of which Douglas had been the victim.
+
+These were the questions the lonely, heartbroken man asked himself that
+night, as he sat brooding by his solitary hearth, no longer able to
+find pleasure in the nightly studies which had once been so delightful
+to him.
+
+Ah! how deeply he must have loved that woman, when the memory of her
+guilt poisoned his existence! How madly he still clung to the thought
+of her!--how intensely he desired to penetrate the secrets of her life!
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+
+                           "THY DAY IS COME!"
+
+"What is it, Jane?" asked Lady Eversleigh, rather impatiently, of her
+maid, when her knock at the door of her sitting-room in Percy Street
+interrupted the conversation between herself and the detective officer,
+a conversation intensely and painfully interesting.
+
+"A person, ma'am, who wants to see Mr. Andrews, and will take no
+denial."
+
+"Indeed," said Mr. Larkspur; "that's very odd: I know of nothing up at
+present for which they should send any one to me here. However," and he
+rose as he spoke, "I suppose I had better see this person. Where is
+he?"
+
+"In the hall," replied Jane.
+
+But Lady Eversleigh interposed to prevent Mr. Larkspur's departure.
+"Pray do not go," she said, "unless it concerns this business, unless
+it is news of my child. This may be something to rob me of your time
+and attention; and remember I alone have a right to your services."
+
+"Lor' bless you, my lady," said Mr. Larkspur, "I haven't forgot that;
+and that's just what puzzles me. There's only one man who knows the lay
+I'm on, and the name I go by, and he knows I would not take anything
+else till I have reckoned up this; and it would be no good sending
+anybody after me, unless it were something in some way concerning this
+business."
+
+In an instant Lady Eversleigh was as anxious that Mr. Larkspur should
+see the unknown man as she had been unwilling he should do so. "Pray go
+to him at once," she urged; "don't lose a moment."
+
+Mr. Larkspur left the room, and Lady Eversleigh dismissed Jane Payland,
+and awaited his return in an agony of impatience. After the lapse of
+half an hour, Mr. Larkspur appeared. There were actually some slight
+traces of emotion in his face, and the colour had lessened considerably
+in his vulture-like beak. He was followed by a tall, stalwart, fine-
+looking man, with the unmistakeable gait and air of a sailor. As Lady
+Eversleigh looked at him in astonishment, Mr. Larkspur said:--
+
+"I ain't much of a believer in Fate in general, but there's surely a
+Fate in this. My lady, this is Captain George Jernam!"
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The time had passed slowly and wearily for Rosamond Jernam, and all the
+efforts conscientiously made by her husband's aunt, who liked the girl
+better the more she saw of her, and entirely acquitted her of blame in
+the mysterious estrangement of the young couple, failed to make her
+cheerful. She was wont to roam disconsolately for hours about the
+secluded coast, giving free course to her sadness, and cherishing one
+dear secret. Rosamond was so much changed in appearance of late that
+Susan Jernam began to feel seriously uneasy about her. She had lost her
+pretty fresh colour, and her face wore a haggard, weary look; it was
+plain to every eye that some hidden grief was preying on her mind. Mrs.
+Jernam, though a quiet person, and given to the minding of her own
+affairs, was not quite without "cronies," and to one of these she
+confided her anxiety about her niece. The _confidante_ was a certain
+Mrs. Miller, a respectable person, but lower in the social scale than
+Mrs. Jernam. She was a widow, and lived in a tiny cottage, close to the
+beach at Allanbay; she kept no servant, but her trim little dwelling
+was always the very pink and pattern of neatness. She was of a silent,
+though not a morose temperament. It was generally understood that Mrs.
+Miller's husband had been a seafaring man, and had been drowned many
+years before she went to live at Allanbay. She had no relatives, and no
+previous acquaintances in that quiet nook; and if she had been a little
+higher in the social scale, belonging to that class which requires
+introductions, she might have lived a life of unbroken solitude. As it
+was, the neighbours made friends with her by degrees, and the poor
+widow's life was not an unhappy or solitary one. Mrs. Jernam had early
+learned the particulars of her case, and a friendship had grown up
+between them, of which Mrs. Miller duly acknowledged the condescension
+on Mrs. Jernam's part.
+
+Mrs. Jernam called on her humble friend one day, to bestow some small
+favour, and, to her surprise, found her, not alone as usual, but in the
+act of taking leave of a man whose appearance was by no means
+prepossessing, and who was apparently very much disconcerted by Mrs.
+Jernam's arrival. Mrs. Jernam immediately proposed to go away and
+return on another occasion, but the man, who did not hear her name
+mentioned, said, gruffly:
+
+"No call, ma'am, no call; I'm going away. Good-bye, Polly. Remember
+what you've got to do, and do it." Then he turned off from the cottage-
+door, and was out of sight in a few moments.
+
+Mrs. Miller stood looking at her guest, rather awkwardly, but said at
+length:
+
+"Pray sit down, ma'am. That's my brother; the only creature I have
+belonging to me in the world." And here Mrs. Miller sighed, and looked
+as if the possession were not an unqualified advantage.
+
+"Has he been here long?" asked Mrs. Jernam.
+
+"No, ma'am; he only came last night, and is gone again. He came to
+bring me a child to take care of, and a great tax it is."
+
+"A child!" said Mrs. Jernam, "whose child?"
+
+"That's more than I can tell you, ma'am," replied Mrs. Miller; "and
+more than he told me. She's an orphan, he says, and her father was a
+seafaring man, like your nephew, as I've heard you speak of. And I'm to
+have the charge of her for a year, and thirty pounds--it's handsome, I
+don't deny, but he knows that I'd take good care of any child--and
+she's a pretty dear, to tell the truth, as sweet a little creature as
+ever walked. She don't talk very plain yet, and she says, as well as I
+can make it out, as her name is Gerty."
+
+And then Mrs. Miller asked Mrs. Jernam to walk into her little bedroom,
+and showed her, lying on a neat humble bed, carefully covered with a
+white coverlet, and in the deep sleep of childhood, the infant heiress
+of Raynham! If either of the women had only known at whom she was
+looking, as they scrutinized the child's fair face and talked of her
+beauty and her innocence in tearful whispers, looking away from the
+sleeping form, pitifully, at a little heap of black clothes on a chair
+by the bed!
+
+"I suppose she's the child of one of my brother's old shipmates, as
+rose to be better off," said Mrs. Miller, "for she's fretted about a
+captain, and cried bitter to go to him when I put her to bed." Then the
+two returned to the little parlour, and talked long and earnestly about
+the child, about the necessity for Mrs. Miller's now employing the
+services of "a girl," and about Rosamond Jernam.
+
+Rosamond was greatly delighted with the child left in Mrs. Miller's
+care. The little girl interested her deeply, and every day she passed
+many hours with her, either at Mrs. Miller's house or her own. The
+grace and beauty of the child were remarkable; and as, with the happy
+facility of childhood, she began to recover from the first feeling of
+strangeness and fear, the little creature was soon happy in her new,
+humble home. She was too young to appreciate and lament the change in
+her lot; and, as she was well fed, well cared for, and treated with the
+most caressing affection, she was perfectly happy. Rosamond began to
+feel hopeful under the influence of the child's smiles and playful
+talk. The time must pass, she told herself, her husband must return to
+her, and soon there would be for them a household angel like this one,
+to bring peace and happiness permanently to their home.
+
+Susan Jernam and Rosamond were much puzzled about this lovely child,
+Gerty Smith, as she was called. Not only her looks, but certain little
+ways she had, contradicted Mrs. Miller's theory of her birth, and
+though they fully credited the good woman's statement, and believed her
+as ignorant of the truth as themselves, they became convinced that
+there was some mystery about this child. Mrs. Miller had never spoken
+of her brother until he made his sudden and brief appearance at
+Allanbay; and unsuspicious and unlearned in the ways of the world as
+Mrs. Jernam was, she had perceived that he belonged to the doubtful
+classes. The truth was, that Mrs. Miller could have told them nothing
+about her brother beyond the general fact of his being "a bad lot." She
+had heard of him only at rare intervals since he had left his father's
+honest home, in his scampish, incorrigible boyhood, and ran away to
+sea. She had heard little good of him, and years had sometimes passed
+over during which she knew nothing of his fate. But even in Black
+Milsom--thief, murderer, villain, though he was--there was one little
+trace of good left. He did care a little for his sister; he did "look
+her up" at intervals in his career of crime; he did send her small sums
+of money--whence derived she had, happily, no suspicion--when he was
+"flush;" and he did hope "Old Polly" would never find out how bad a
+fellow he had been. Mrs. Miller's nature was a very simple and
+confiding one, and she never speculated much upon her brother's doings.
+She was pleased to have the charge of the child, and she fulfilled it
+to the best of her ability; but those signs and tokens of a higher
+station, which Susan Jernam and Rosamond recognized, were quite beyond
+her ken.
+
+One morning the little household at Susan Jernam's cottage, consisting
+only of the mistress and her maid, was roused by a violent knocking at
+the door. Mrs. Jernam was the first to open it, and to her surprise and
+alarm, she found Mrs. Miller standing at the door, her face expressing
+alarm and grief, and little Gerty, wrapped in a large woollen shawl, in
+her arms. Her explanation of what had occurred thus to upset her was at
+first incoherent enough, but by degrees Mrs. Jernam learned that Mrs.
+Miller had come to entreat her to take care of the child for a day or
+two as she was obliged to go to Plymouth at once.
+
+"To Plymouth!" said Mrs. Jernam--"how's that?--but come in, come in"--
+and they went into Mrs. Jernam's spotlessly neat parlour, that parlour
+in which Valentine Jernam had been permitted to smoke, and had told his
+aunt all his adventures, little recking of the final one then so close
+upon him. In the parlour, Mrs. Miller set little Gerty down, and the
+child, giddy and confused with her sudden waking, and being thus
+carried through the chill morning air, climbed up on the trim little
+sofa, and curling herself into a corner of it, sat quite motionless.
+Then, her agitation finding vent in tears, Mrs. Miller told Susan
+Jernam what had befallen. It was this:--
+
+Just as day was dawning, a dog-cart, driven by a gentleman's servant,
+had come to her door--the dog-cart was now standing at a little
+distance from Mrs. Jernam's house--and she had been called out by the
+servant, and told that he had been sent to bring her over to Plymouth,
+with as little delay as possible. It appeared that her brother, who had
+gone to Plymouth after depositing the child with her, had been run over
+in the street by a heavy coal-waggon, and severely injured. He had been
+carried to a hospital, and was for some time insensible. When he
+recovered his speech he was delirious, and the surgeons pronounced his
+case hopeless. He was now in a dying state, but conscious; and had been
+visited by a clergyman named Colburne, the man's master, who had
+induced him to express contrition for his past life, and to make such
+reparation as now lay in his power. The first step towards this, as he
+informed Mr. Colburne, was seeing his sister. There was no time to be
+lost; the man's life was fast ebbing; it was only a matter of hours;
+and the good clergyman, who had been with the dying man far into the
+night before he had succeeded in inducing him to consent to this step,
+hurried home, and sent his servant off to Allanbay before daybreak.
+
+There was little delay. A few words of earnest sympathy from Mrs.
+Jernam, an assurance that the child should be well cared for, and Mrs.
+Miller left the house, ran down the road to the dog-cart, climbed into
+it, and was driven away.
+
+Rosamond came in from her own little dwelling to her aunt's, at an
+early hour that day, and when the first surprise and pleasure of
+finding the child there had passed away, the two women fell to
+speculating on what kind of revelation it might be which awaited Mrs.
+Miller.
+
+"Depend upon it, aunt," said Susan, "we shall hear the truth about
+little Gerty now."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The hours wore solemnly away in the great building, consecrated to
+suffering and its relief, in which Black Milsom lay dying, with his
+sister kneeling by his bed, while the good clergyman, who had had pity
+on the soul of the sinner, sat on the other side, gravely and
+compassionately looking at them both. The meeting between the brother
+and sister had been very distressing, and the agony exhibited by the
+poor woman when she was made aware that her brother had acknowledged
+himself a criminal of the deepest dye, was intense. Calm--almost
+stupor--had succeeded to her wild grief, and the clergyman had spoken
+words of consolation and hope to the dying and the living. The surgeons
+had seen the man for the last time; there was nothing more to be done
+for him now--nothing to do but to wait for the equal foot approaching
+with remorseless tread.
+
+It was indeed a fearful catalogue of crime to which the Rev. Philip
+Colburne had listened, and had written with his own hand at the dying
+man's dictation. Not often has such a revelation been made to mortal
+ears, and the two who heard it--the Christian minister and the
+trembling, horrified sister--felt that the scene could never be effaced
+from their memories.
+
+With only two items in that awful list this story has to do.
+
+The first is, the murder of Valentine Jernam. As Mrs. Miller heard her
+brother, with gasping breath and feeble utterance, tell that horrible
+story, her heart died within her. She knew it well. Who at Allanbay had
+not heard of the murder of Mrs. Jernam's darling nephew, the bright,
+popular, kind-hearted seaman, whose coming had been a jubilee in the
+little port; whose disappearance had made so painful a sensation? She
+had heard the story from his aunt, and Rosamond had told her how her
+husband lived in the hope of finding out and punishing his brother's
+murderer. And now he was found, this murderer, this thief, this guilt-
+burdened criminal: and he was her only brother, and dying. Ah, well,
+Valentine Jernam was avenged. Providence had exacted George Jernam's
+vengeance: the wrath of man was not needed here.
+
+The second crime with which this story has to do was one of old date,
+one of the earliest in Black Milsom's dreadful career. The dying wretch
+told Mr. Colburne how he had headed a gang of thieves, chiefly composed
+of sailors who had deserted their ships, some twenty-one or two years
+before this time, when retribution had come upon him, and in their
+company had robbed the villa of an English lady at Florence. This crime
+had been committed with the connivance and assistance of the Italian
+woman who was nurse to the English lady's child. Milsom, then a
+handsome young fellow, had offered marriage to the woman, which offer
+was accepted; and she had made his taking her and the child with him--
+for nothing would induce her to leave the infant--a condition of her
+aid. He did so; but the hardship of her new life soon killed the
+Italian woman; and the child was left to the mercy of Milsom and an old
+hag who acted as his drudge and accomplice. What mercy she met with at
+those hands the reader knows, for that child was the future wife of Sir
+Oswald Eversleigh. Mr. Colburne listened to this portion of Milsom's
+confession with intense interest.
+
+"The name?" he asked; "the name of the lady who lived at Florence, the
+mother of the child? Tell me the name!"
+
+"Verner," said the dying man, in a hoarse whisper, "Lady Verner; the
+child's name was Anna."
+
+He was very near his end when he finished his terrible story. While Mr.
+Colburne was trying to speak peace to the poor darkened, frightened,
+guilty soul, Mrs. Miller knelt by the bedside, sobbing convulsively.
+Suddenly she remembered the child she had the care of. Had his account
+of her been true? Was she also the victim of a crime? She waited, with
+desperate impatience, but with the habitual respect of her class, until
+Mr. Colburne had ceased to speak. Then she put her lips close to the
+dying man's ear, and said--
+
+"Thomas, Thomas, for God's sake tell me about the child--who is she? Is
+what you told me true? If not, set it right--oh, brother, brother, set
+it right--before it is too late."
+
+The imploring tone of her voice reached her brother's dull ear; a faint
+spasm, as though he strove in vain to speak, crossed his white drawn
+lips. But the disfigured head in its ghastly bandages was motionless;
+the shattered arm in its wrappings made no gesture. In terror, in
+despair, his sister started to her feet, and looked eagerly, closely,
+into his face. In vain the white lips parted, the eyelids quivered, a
+shiver shook the broad, brawny chest--then all was still, and Black
+Milsom was dead!
+
+On the following morning Mr. Colburne took Mrs. Miller back to
+Allanbay, after giving her a night's rest in his own hospitable home.
+He left her at her own cottage, and went to Mrs. Jernam's house, as he
+had promised the afflicted woman he would save her the pain of telling
+the terrible story which was to clear up the mystery surrounding the
+merchant captain's fate. When the clergyman reached the house, and
+lifted his hand to the bright knocker, he heard a sound of many and
+gleeful voices within--a sound which died away as he knocked for
+admittance.
+
+Presently the door was opened by Mrs. Jernam's trim maid, who replied,
+when Mr. Colburne asked if he could see Mrs. Jernam, and if she were
+alone--as a hint that he did not wish to see any one beside--
+
+"Please, sir, missus is in, but she ain't alone; Captain George and
+Mrs. George's father have just come--not half an hour ago."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+And so Joyce Harker's self-imposed task was at an end, and George
+Jernam's long brooding upon his brother's fate was over. A solemn
+stillness came upon the happy party at Allanbay, and Rosamond's tears
+fell upon little Gerty, as she slept upon her bosom--slept where
+George's child was soon to slumber. Mr. Colburne asked no questions
+about the child. Mrs. Miller had said nothing to him respecting her
+charge, and Milsom's death, ensuing immediately on her question, had
+caused it to pass unnoticed. George Jernam, his wife, and Captain
+Duncombe started for London early the next day. They had come to a
+unanimous conclusion, on consultation with Mrs. Miller, that there was
+a mystery about the child, and that the best thing to be done was to
+communicate with the police at once. "Besides," said George, "I must
+see Mr. Larkspur, and tell him he need not trouble himself farther; now
+that accident, or, as I believe Providence, has done for us what all
+his skill failed to do."
+
+When George Jernam presented himself at Mr. Larkspur's office he
+underwent a rigid inspection by that gentleman's "deputy," and having,
+by a few hints as to the nature of his business, led that astute person
+to think that it bore on his principal's present quest, he was
+entrusted with the address of Mr. Andrews, in Percy Street.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+"So, you see, I don't get my five hundred, because I didn't find out
+Captain Jernam's murderer," said Mr. Larkspur, after a long and
+agitating explanation had put Lady Eversleigh in possession of all the
+foregoing circumstances. "And here's Captain Jernam's brother comes and
+takes the job of finding little missy out of my hands--does my work for
+me as clean as a whistle."
+
+"But I did not know I was doing it, Mr. Larkspur," said George. "I did
+not know the little Gerty that my Rosamond is so sorry to part with,
+was Miss Eversleigh; you found it out, from what I told you."
+
+"As if any fool could fail to find out that," said Mr. Larkspur good-
+humouredly. He had a strong conviction that neither the relinquishment
+of Lady Eversleigh's designs of punishing her enemies, nor the finding
+of the heiress by other than his agency, would inflict any injury upon
+him--a conviction which was amply justified by his future experience.
+
+"My good friend," said Lady Eversleigh, "if I do not need your aid to
+restore my child to me, I need it to restore me to my mother. I cannot
+realize the truth that I have a mother, I can only feel it. I can only
+feel how she must have suffered by remembering my own anguish. And
+hers, how much more cruel, how prolonged, how hopeless! You will see to
+this at once, Mr. Larkspur, while I go to my child."
+
+"Lord bless you, my lady," said Mr. Larkspur, cheerily, "there's no
+occasion to look very far. You have not forgotten the lady, she that
+lives so quiet, yet so stylish, near Richmond, and that Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh pays such attention to? You remember all I told you about
+her, and how I found out that she was Mr. Dale's aunt, and he know
+nothing about her?"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Lady Eversleigh, breathlessly, "I remember."
+
+"Well, my lady, that party near Richmond is Lady Verner, your
+ladyship's mother."
+
+Lady Eversleigh was well nigh overwhelmed by the throng of feelings
+which pressed upon her. She, the despised outcast, the first-cousin of
+the man who had scorned her, a connection of the great family into
+which she had married, her husband's equal in rank, and in fortune!
+She, the woman whose beauty had been used to lure Valentine Jernam to
+his death, she who had almost witnessed his murder; she owed to
+Valentine's brother the discovery of her parentage, the defeat of her
+calumniators, her restoration to a high place in society, and to family
+ties, the destruction of Reginald Eversleigh's designs on Lady Verner's
+property, and--greatest, best boon of all--the recovery of her child.
+Her own devices, her own wilfulness had but led her into deeper danger,
+into more bitter sorrow; but Providence had done great things for her
+by the hands of this stranger, between whom and herself there existed
+so sinister a link.
+
+"Can you ever forgive me, Captain Jernam," she said, "for my share in
+your brother's fate? Must I always be hateful in your sight? Will Mrs.
+Jernam ever permit me to thank her for her goodness to my child?"
+
+For the answer, George Jernam stooped and kissed her hand, with all the
+natural grace inspired by natural good-feeling, and Lady Eversleigh
+felt that she had gained a friend where she had feared to meet a
+relentless foe. The little party remained long in consultation, and it
+was decided that nothing was to be done about Lady Verner until Lady
+Eversleigh had reclaimed her child. George Jernam entreated her to
+permit him to go to Allanbay and bring the little girl to her mother,
+but she would not consent. She insisted upon George's bringing his wife
+to see her immediately, as the preparations for departure did not admit
+of her calling upon Mrs. Jernam. The gentle, happy Rosamond complied
+willingly, and so thoroughly had the beautiful lady won the girl's
+heart before they were long together, that Rosamond herself proposed
+that George should accompany Lady Eversleigh to Allanbay. With pretty
+imperiousness she bore down Lady Eversleigh's grateful scruples, and
+the result was, that the two started that same evening, travelled as
+fast as post-horses could carry them, and arrived at Allanbay before
+even Lady Eversleigh's impatience could find the journey long. Susan
+Jernam had kept the child with her, and she it was who put little Gerty
+into her mother's arms. Rarely in her life had Lady Eversleigh lain
+down to rest with do tranquil a heart as that with which she slept
+under the humble roof of Captain Jernam's aunt.
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+
+                     "CONFUSION WORSE THAN DEATH."
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh had paid Victor Carrington a long visit, at the
+cottage at Maida Hill, on the day which had witnessed the distressing
+interview and angry parting between Douglas Dale and Madame Durski.
+They had talked a great deal, and Reginald had been struck by the
+strange excitement--the almost feverish exultation--in Carrington's
+tone and manner. He was not more openly communicative as to his plans
+than usual, but he expressed his expectation of triumph in a way which
+Eversleigh had never heard him do before.
+
+"You seem quite sanguine, Victor," said Sir Reginald. "Mind, I don't
+ask questions, but you really are sure all is going well?"
+
+"Our affairs march, _mon ami_. And you are making your game with the
+old lady at Richmond admirably, are you not?"
+
+"Nothing could be better, and indeed I ought to succeed, for it's dull
+work, I can tell you, especially when she begins talking resignedly
+about the child that was stolen a few centuries ago, and her hopes of
+meeting it in a better world. Horrid bore--dreadful bosh; but anything
+is worth bearing if money is to be made of it--good, sure, sterling
+money. I think it will do me good to see some real money--bank-notes
+and gold, and that sort of thing--for an accommodation bill is the only
+form of cash I've handled since I came of age. How happy we shall be
+when it all comes right--your game and mine!" continued the baronet.
+"My plans are very simple. I shall only exchange my shabby lodgings in
+the Strand for apartments in Piccadilly, overlooking the Park, of
+course. I shall resume my old position among my own set, and enjoy life
+after my own fashion; and when once I am possessor of a handsome
+fortune, I dare say I shall have no difficulty in getting a rich wife.
+And you, Victor, how shall you employ our wealth?"
+
+"In the restoration of my name," replied the Frenchman, with suppressed
+intensity. "Yes, Sir Reginald, the one purpose of my life is told in
+those words. I have been an outcast and an adventurer, friendless,
+penniless; but I am the last scion of a noble house, and to restore to
+that house some small portion of its long-lost splendour has been the
+one dream of my manhood. I am not given to talk much of that which lies
+nearest my heart, and never until to-night have I spoken to you of my
+single ambition; but you, who have watched me toiling upon a weary
+road, wading through a morass of guilt, must surely have guessed that
+the pole-star must needs be a bright one which could lure me onward
+upon so hideous a pathway. The end has come at last, and I now speak
+freely. My name is not Carrington. I am Viscomte Champfontaine, of
+Champfontaine, in the department of Charente, and my name was once the
+grandest in western France; but the Revolution robbed us of lands and
+wealth, and there remain now but four rugged stone towers of that
+splendid chateau which once rose proudly above the woods of
+Champfontaine, like a picture by Gustave Dore. The fountain in the
+field still flows, limpid as in those days when the soldier-Gaul
+pitched his tent beside its waters, and took for himself the name of
+Champfontaine. To restore that name, to rebuild that chateau--that is
+the dream which I have cherished."
+
+Excited by this unwonted revelation of his feelings, and by the
+anticipation of the realization of all his hopes, the Frenchman rose,
+and paced rapidly up and down the room.
+
+"I will go to Champfontaine," he said. "I will look once more upon the
+crumbling towers, so soon to be restored to their primitive strength
+and grandeur."
+
+Reginald watched him wonderingly. This enthusiasm about an ancient name
+was beyond his comprehension. He too, bore a name that had been
+honourable for centuries, and he had recklessly degraded that name. He
+had begun life with all the best gifts of fortune in his hands, and had
+squandered all.
+
+"I hear your cousin Douglas is very ill," said Carrington, checking his
+excited manner, and speaking with a sudden change of tone, which
+produced a strange thrill of Sir Reginald's somewhat weak nerves. "I
+should recommend you to go and call upon him at his chambers. Never
+mind any coolness there may have been between you. You needn't see him,
+you know; in fact it will be much better for you to avoid doing so. But
+just call and make the inquiry. I am really anxious to know if there is
+anything the matter with him."
+
+Sir Reginald Eversleigh looked at the Frenchman with a half doubtful,
+half horror-stricken look--such a look as Faust may have cast at
+Mephistopheles, when Gretchen's soldier-brother fell, stricken by the
+invisible sword of the demon.
+
+"I'll tell you what it is, Victor," he said, after a pause, "unless our
+luck changes pretty quickly, I shall throw up the sponge some fine
+morning, and blow my brains out. Affairs have been desperate with me
+for a long time, and your fine schemes have not made me a halfpenny
+richer. I begin to think that, in spite of all your cleverness, you're
+no better than a bungler."
+
+"I shall begin to think so myself," answered Victor, between his set
+teeth, "unless success comes to us speedily. We have been working
+underground, and the work has been slow and wearisome; but the end
+cannot be far distant," he added, with a heavy sigh. "Go and inquire
+after your cousin's health."
+
+And so Reginald Eversleigh strove to dismiss the subject from his mind.
+So powerful is self-deception, that he almost succeeded in persuading
+himself that he had no part in Carrington's plots--that he did not know
+at what he was aiming and that he was, personally, absolved from any
+share in the crime that was being perpetrated, if crime there was; but
+that there was, he even affected himself to doubt.
+
+After Sir Reginald left him, Victor Carrington threw himself into a
+chair in a fit of deep despondency. After a time that mood passed away,
+and he roused himself, and thought of what he had to do that day. He
+had seen Miss Brewer only the previous day. He had learned how much
+alarmed Paulina was about her lover's health, and with what good
+reason. Victor Carrington came to a resolution that this day should be
+the last of waiting--of suspense. He took a phial from the press where
+he kept all deadly drugs, placed it in his breast-pocket, and went to
+his mother's sitting-room. The widow was sitting, as usual, at her
+embroidery-frame. She counted some stitches before she raised her head
+to look at her son. But when she did look up, her own face changed, and
+she said,--
+
+"Victor, you are ill. I know you are. You look very ill--not like
+yourself. What ails you?"
+
+"Nothing, mother," replied Victor; "nothing that a little fresh air and
+exercise will not remove. I have been a little over-excited, that is
+all. I have been thinking of the old home that sheltered my grandfather
+before the sequestrations of '93--the home that could be bought back
+to-day for an old song, and which a few thousands, judiciously
+invested, might restore to something of its old grandeur. One of the
+Champfontaines received Francis I. and his sister Marguerite in the old
+chateau which they burnt during the Terror. Mother, I will tell you a
+secret to-day: ever since I can remember having a wish, the one great
+desire of my life has been the desire to restore the place and the
+name; and I hope to accomplish that desire soon, mother--very soon."
+
+"Victor, this is the talk of a madman!" exclaimed the Frenchwoman,
+alarmed by her son's unwonted vehemence.
+
+"No, mother, it is the talk of a man who feels himself on the verge of
+a great success--or--a stupendous failure."
+
+"I cannot understand--"
+
+"There is no need for you to understand any more than this: I have been
+playing a bold game, and I believe it will prove a winning one."
+
+"Is this game an honest one, Victor?"
+
+"Honest? oh, yes!" answered the surgeon, with an ominous laugh, "why
+should I be not honest? Does not the world teach a man to be honest?
+See what noble rewards it offers for honesty."
+
+He took a crumpled letter from his pocket as he spoke, and threw it
+across the table to his mother.
+
+"Read that, mother," he said; "that is my reward for ten years' honest
+toil in a laborious profession. Captain Halkard, the inaugurator of an
+Arctic expedition for scientific purposes, writes to invite me to join
+his ship as surgeon. He has heard of my conscientious devotion to my
+profession--my exceptional talents--see, those are his exact words, and
+he offers me the post of ship's surgeon, with a honorarium of fifty
+pounds. The voyage is supposed to last six months; it is much more
+likely to last a year; it is most likely to last for ever--for, from
+the place to which these men are going, the chances are against any
+man's return. And for unutterable hardship, for the hazard of my life,
+for my exceptional talents, my conscientious devotion, he offers me
+fifty pounds. That, mother, is the price which honesty commands in the
+great market of life."
+
+"But it might lead to something, Victor," murmured the mother, as she
+put down the letter, pleased by the writer's praises of her son.
+
+"Oh, yes, it might lead to a few words of commendation in a scientific
+journal; possibly a degree of F.R.G.S.; or very probably a grave under
+the ice, with a grizzly bear for sexton."
+
+"You will not accept the offer?"
+
+"Not unless my great scheme fails at the last moment--as it cannot
+fail--as it cannot!" he repeated, with the air of a man who tries to
+realize a possibility too horrible for imagination.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was very late that night before Paulina Durski, worn out by the
+emotion she had undergone, could be persuaded to retire to rest. After
+Douglas had left her, all the firmness forsook her, all her pride was
+overthrown. Despair unutterable took possession of her. With him went
+her last hope--her one only chance of happiness. She flung herself,
+face downwards, on her sofa, and gave way to the wildest, most
+agonizing grief. Thus Miss Brewer found her, and eagerly questioned her
+concerning the cause of her distress. But she could obtain no
+explanation from Paulina, who only answered, in a voice broken by
+convulsive sobs, "Some other time, some other time; don't ask me now."
+So Miss Brewer was forced to be silent, if not content, and at length
+she persuaded Paulina to go to bed.
+
+The faithful friend arranged everything with her own hands for Madame
+Durski's comfort, and would not consent to leave her till she had lain
+down to rest. The broken-hearted woman bade her friend good night
+calmly enough, but before Miss Brewer reached the door, she heard
+Paulina's sobs burst forth again, and saw that she had covered her face
+with her hands, and buried it in the pillow.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late on the following morning when Miss Brewer entered Paulina's
+room, and having softly opened the shutters, drew near the bed with a
+noiseless step. The bed-clothes, which were wont to be tossed and
+tumbled by the restless sleeper, were smooth and undisturbed. Never had
+Miss Brewer seen her mistress in an attitude so expressive of complete
+repose.
+
+"Poor thing! she has had a good night after all," thought the
+companion.
+
+She bent over the quiet figure, the pale face, so statuesque in that
+calm sleep, and gently touched the white, listless hand.
+
+Yes--this indeed was perfect repose; but it was the repose of death.
+The bottle from which Paulina had habitually taken a daily modicum of
+opium, lay on the ground by the bedside, empty.
+
+Whether the luckless, hopeless, heart-broken woman, overwhelmed by the
+sense of an inscrutable Fate that forbade her every chance of peace or
+happiness, had, in her supreme despair, committed the sin of the
+suicide, who shall say? It is possible that she had only taken an over-
+dose of the perilous compound unconsciously, in the dull apathy of her
+despair.
+
+She was dead. Life for her had been one long humiliation, one long
+struggle. And at last, when the cup of happiness had been offered to
+her lips, a cruel hand had snatched it away from her.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+When Miss Brewer recovered her senses and her power of action, she sent
+for Douglas Dale. News of the awful event had got abroad by that time,
+through the terrified servants; and two doctors and a policeman were on
+the premises. A messenger was easily procured, who tore off in a hansom
+to the Temple. As the man ran up the steps leading to Dr. Johnson's
+Buildings, where Dale's new chambers were situated, he encountered two
+ladies on the first landing.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, pushing them, however, very decidedly
+aside as he spoke, "I must see Mr. Dale; please do not detain him. It
+is most important." The ladies stood aside exchanging frightened and
+curious looks, but made no attempt to make their presence known to Mr.
+Dale, who came out of his rooms in a few minutes, attended by the
+messenger, and passed them without seeming in the least aware of their
+presence, and wearing the ghastliest face that ever was seen on mortal
+man. That face struck them dumb and motionless, and it was not until
+Jarvis had twice asked them their names and business, that the elder
+lady replied. "They would call again," she told him, and handed him
+cards bearing the names of "Lady Verner," "Lady Eversleigh."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Victor Carrington appeared at Hilton House early in the afternoon. He
+had calculated that his work must needs be very near its completion,
+and he came prepared to hear of Douglas Dale's mortal illness.
+
+The blow that awaited him was a death-blow. Miss Brewer had told
+Douglas all: the lies, the artifices, by which the man Carton had
+contrived to make himself a constant visitor in that house. In a
+moment, without the mention of the schemer's real name, Heaven's light
+was let in upon the mystery; the dark enigma was solved, and the woman,
+so tenderly loved and so cruelly wronged, was exonerated.
+
+Too late--too late! _That_ was the agonizing reflection which smote the
+heart of Douglas Dale, with a pain more terrible than the sharpest
+death-pang. "I have broken her heart!" he cried. "I have broken that
+true, devoted heart!"
+
+The appearance of Victor Carrington was the signal for such a burst of
+rage as even his iron nature could scarcely brook unshaken.
+
+"Miscreant! devil! incarnate iniquity!" cried Douglas, as he grasped
+and grappled with the baffled plotter. "You have tried to murder me--
+and you have tried to murder her! I might have forgiven you the first
+crime--I will drag you to the halter for the second, and think myself
+poorly revenged when I hear the rabble yelling beneath your scaffold!"
+
+Happily for Carrington, the effects of the poison had reduced his
+victim to extreme weakness. The convulsive grasp loosened, the hoarse
+voice died into a whisper, and Douglas Dale swooned as helplessly as a
+woman.
+
+"What does it mean?" asked Victor. "Is this man mad?"
+
+"We have all been mad!" returned Miss Brewer, passionately. "The blind,
+besotted dupes of your demoniac wickedness! Paulina Durski is dead!"
+
+"Dead!"
+
+"Yes. There was a quarrel, yesterday, between these two--and he left
+her. I found her this morning--dead! I have told him all--the part I
+have played at your bidding. I shall tell it again in a court of
+justice, I pray God!"
+
+"You can tell it when and where you please," replied Victor, with
+horrible calmness. "I shall not be there to hear it."
+
+He walked out of the house. Douglas Dale had not yet recovered
+consciousness, and there was no one to hinder Carrington's departure.
+
+For some time he walked on, unconscious whither he went, unable to
+grasp or realize the events that had befallen. But at last-dimly,
+darkly, grim shapes arose out of the chaos of his brain.
+
+There would be a trial--some kind of trial!--Douglas Dale would not be
+baffled of vengeance if the law could give it him. His crime--what was
+it, if it could be proved? An attempt to murder--an attempt the basest,
+the most hideous, and revolting. What hope could he have of mercy--he,
+utterly merciless himself, expected no such weakness from his fellow-
+men.
+
+But in this supreme hour of utter defeat, his thoughts did not dwell on
+the hazards of the future. The chief bitterness of his soul was the
+agony of disappointment--of baffled hope--of humiliation, degradation
+unspeakable. He had thought himself invincible, the master of his
+fellow-men, by the supremacy of intellectual power, and remorseless
+cruelty. And he was what? A baffled trickster, whose every move upon
+the great chessboard had been a separate mistake, leading step by step
+to the irrevocable sentence--checkmate!
+
+The ruined towers of Champfontaine arose before him, as in a vision,
+black against a blood-red sky.
+
+"I can understand those mad devils of '93--I can understand the roll-
+call of the guillotine--the noyades--the conflagrations--the foul
+orgies of murderous drunkards, drunken with blood. Those men had
+schemed as I have schemed, and worked as I have worked, and waited as I
+have waited--to fail like me!"
+
+He had walked far from the West-end, into some dreary road eastward of
+the City, choosing by some instinct the quietest streets, before he was
+calm enough to contemplate the perils of his position, or to decide
+upon the course he should take.
+
+A few minutes' reflection told him that he must fly--Douglas Dale would
+doubtless hunt him as a wild beast is hunted. Where was he to go? Was
+there any lair, or covert, in all that wide city where he might be
+safely hidden from the vengeance of the man he had wronged so deeply?
+
+He remembered Captain Halkard's letter. He dragged the crumpled sheet
+of paper from his pocket, and read a few lines. Yes: it was as he had
+thought. The "Pandion" was to leave Gravesend at five o'clock next
+morning.
+
+"I will go to the ice-graves and the bears!" he exclaimed. "Let them
+track me there!"
+
+Energetic always, no less energetic even in this hour of desperation,
+he made his way down to the sailors' quarter, and spent his few last
+pounds in the purchase of a scanty outfit. After doing this, he dined
+frugally at a quiet tavern, and then took the steamer for Gravesend.
+
+He slept on board the "Pandion." The place offered him had not been
+filled by any one else. It was not a very tempting post, or a very
+tempting expedition. The men who had organized it were enthusiasts,
+imbued with that fever-thirst of the explorer which has made many
+martyrs, from the age of the Cabots to the days of Franklin.
+
+The "Pandion" sailed in that gray cheerless morning, her white sails
+gleaming ghastly athwart the chill mists of the river, and so vanished
+for ever Victor Carrington from the eyes of all men, save those who
+went with him. The fate of that expedition was never known. Beneath
+what iceberg the "Pandion" found her grave none can tell. Brave and
+noble hearts perished with her, and to die with those good men was too
+honourable a doom for such a wretch as Victor Carrington.
+
+
+
+                               CHAPTER XL.
+
+
+                           "SO SHALL YE REAP."
+
+Little now remains to be told of this tale of crime and retribution, of
+suffering and compensation. Miss Brewer told her dreadful story, as far
+as she knew it, with perfect truth; and her evidence, together with the
+evidence of the chemist who had supplied Madame Durski from time to
+time with the fatal consoler of all her pains and sorrows, made it
+clear that the luckless woman, lying quietly in the darkened room at
+Hilton House, had died from an over-dose of opium.
+
+Douglas Dale could not attend that inquest. He was stricken down with
+fever; the fate of the woman he had so loved, so unjustly suspected,
+nearly cost him his life, and when he recovered sufficiently, he left
+England, not to return for three years. Before his departure he saw
+Lady Eversleigh and her mother, and established with them a bond of
+friendship as close as that of their kin. He provided liberally for
+Miss Brewer, but her rescue from poverty brought her no happiness: she
+was a broken-hearted woman.
+
+Victor Carrington's mother retired into a convent, and was probably as
+happy as she had ever been. She had loved him but little, whose only
+virtue was that he had loved her much.
+
+Captain Copplestone's rapture knew no bounds when he clasped little
+Gertrude in his arms once more. He was almost jealous of Rosamond
+Jernam, when he found how great a hold she had obtained on the heart of
+her charge; but his jealousy was mingled with gratitude, and he joined
+Lady Eversleigh in testifying his friendship for the tender-hearted
+woman who had protected and cherished the heiress of Raynham in the
+hour of her desolation.
+
+It is not to be supposed that the world remained long in ignorance of
+this romantic episode in the common-place story of every-day life.
+
+Paragraphs found their way into the newspapers, no one knew how, and
+society marvelled at the good fortune of Sir Oswald's widow.
+
+"That woman's wealth must be boundless," exclaimed aristocratic
+dowagers, for whom the grip of poverty's bony fingers had been tight
+and cruel. "Her husband left her magnificent estates, and an enormous
+amount of funded property; and now a mother drops down from the skies
+for her benefit--a mother who is reported to be almost as rich as
+herself."
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Amongst those who envied Lady Eversleigh's good fortune, there was none
+whose envy was so bitter as that of her husband's disappointed nephew,
+Sir Reginald.
+
+This woman had stood between him and fortune, and it would have been
+happiness to him to see her grovelling in the dust, a beggar and an
+outcast. Instead of this, he heard of her exaltation, and he hated her
+with an intense hatred which was almost childish in its purposeless
+fury.
+
+He speedily found, however, that life was miserable without his evil
+counsellor. The Frenchman's unabating confidence in ultimate success
+had sustained the penniless idler in the darkest day of misfortune. But
+now he found himself quite alone; and there was no voice to promise
+future triumph. He knew that the game of life had been played to the
+last card, and that it was lost.
+
+His feeble character was not equal to support the burden of poverty and
+despair.
+
+He dared not show his face at any of the clubs where he had once been
+so distinguished a member; for he knew that the voice of society was
+against him.
+
+Thus hopeless, friendless, and abandoned by his kind, Sir Reginald
+Eversleigh had recourse to the commonest form of consolation. He fled
+from a country in which his name had become odious, and took up his
+abode in Paris, where he found a miserable lodging in one of the
+narrowest alleys in the neighbourhood of the Luxembourg, which was then
+a labyrinth of narrow streets and lanes.
+
+Here he could afford to buy brandy, for at that date brandy was much
+cheaper in France than it is now. Here he could indulge his growing
+propensity for strong drink to the uttermost extent of his means, and
+could drown his sorrows, and drink destruction to his enemies, in fiery
+draughts of cognac.
+
+For some years he inhabited the same dirty garret, keeping the key of
+his wretched chamber, going up and down the crumbling old staircase
+uncared for and unnoticed. Few who had known him in the past would have
+recognized the once elegant young man in this latter stage of his
+existence. Form and features, complexion and expression, were alike
+degraded. The garments worn by him, who had once been the boasted
+patron of crack West-end tailors, were now shapeless and hideous. The
+dandy of the clubs had become a perambulating mass of rags.
+
+Every day when the sun shone he buttoned his greasy, threadbare
+overcoat across his breast, and crawled to the public garden of the
+Luxembourg, where he might be seen shuffling slipshod along the
+sunniest walk, an object of contempt and aversion in the eyes of
+nursery-maids and _grisettes_--a butt for the dare-devil students of
+the quarter.
+
+Had he any consciousness of his degradation?
+
+Yes; that was the undying vulture which preyed upon his entrails--the
+consuming fire that was never quenched.
+
+During the brief interval of each day in which he was sober, Sir
+Reginald Eversleigh was wont to reflect upon the past. He knew himself
+to be the wretch and outcast he was; and, looking back at his start in
+life, he could but remember how different his career might have been
+had he so chosen.
+
+In those hours the slow tears made furrows in his haggard cheeks--the
+tears of remorse, vain repentance, that came too late for earth; but
+not, perhaps, utterly too late for heaven, since, even for this last
+and worst of sinners, there might be mercy.
+
+Thus his life passed--a changeless routine, unbroken by one bright
+interval, one friendly visit, one sign or token to show that there was
+any link between this lonely wretch and the rest of humanity.
+
+One day the porter, who lived in a little den at the bottom of the
+lodging-house staircase, suddenly missed the familiar figure which had
+gone by his rabbit-hutch every day for the last six years; the besotted
+face that had stared at him morning and evening with the blank,
+unseeing gaze of the habitual drunkard.
+
+"What has become of the old toper who lives up yonder among the
+chimney-pots?" cried the porter, suddenly, to the wife of his bosom. "I
+have not seen him to-day nor yesterday, nor for many days. He must be
+ill. I will go upstairs and make inquiries by-and-by, when I have
+leisure."
+
+The porter waited for a leisure half-hour after dark, and then tramped
+wearily up the steep old staircase with a lighted candle to see after
+the missing lodger. He might have waited even longer without detriment
+to Sir Reginald Eversleigh.
+
+The baronet had been dead many days, suffocated by the fumes of his
+poor little charcoal stove. A trap-door in the roof, which he had been
+accustomed to open for the ventilation of his garret, had been closed
+by the wind, and the baronet had passed unconsciously from sleep to
+death.
+
+He had died, and no one had been aware of his death. The people of the
+house did not know either his name or his country. His burial was that
+of an unknown pauper; and the bones of the last male scion of the house
+of Eversleigh were mingled with the bones of Parisian paupers in the
+cemetery of Pere la Chaise.
+
+While Sir Reginald Eversleigh dragged out the wretched remnant of his
+existence in a dingy Parisian alley, there was perfect peace and
+tranquil happiness for the woman against whose fair fame he and Victor
+Carrington had so basely conspired.
+
+Yes, Anna was at peace; surrounded by friends; delighted day by day to
+watch the budding loveliness, the sportive grace of Gertrude
+Eversleigh, the idolized heiress of Raynham. As Lady Eversleigh paced
+the terraces of an Italian garden, her mother by her side, with
+Gertrude clinging to her side; as she looked out over the vast domain
+which owned her as mistress--it might seem that fortune had lavished
+her fairest gifts into the lap of her who had been once a friendless
+stranger, singing in the taverns of Wapping.
+
+Wonderful indeed had been the transitions which had befallen her; but
+even now, when the horizon seemed so fair before her, there were dark
+shadows upon the past which, in some measure, clouded the brightness of
+the present, and dimmed the radiance of the future.
+
+She could not forget her night of agony in the house amongst the
+marshes beyond Ratcliff Highway; she could not cease to lament the loss
+of that noble friend who had rescued her in the hour of her despair.
+
+The world wondered at the prolonged widowhood of the mistress of
+Raynham. People were surprised to find that a woman in the golden prime
+of womanhood and beauty could be constant to the memory of a husband
+old enough to have been her father. But in due time society learned to
+accept the fact as a matter of course, and Lady Eversleigh was no
+longer the subject of hopes and speculations.
+
+Her constant gratitude and friendship for the Jernams suffered no
+diminution as time went on. The difference in their social position
+made no difference to her; and no more frequent or more welcome guests
+were seen at Raynham than Captain Duncombe, his daughter and son-in-
+law, and honest Joyce Harker. Lady Eversleigh had a particular regard
+for the man who had so true and faithful a heart, and she would often
+talk to him; but she never mentioned the subject of that miserable
+night on which he had seen her down at Wapping. That subject was
+tacitly avoided by both. There was a pain too intense, a memory too
+dark, associated with the events of that period.
+
+And so the story ends. There is no sound of pleasant wedding bells to
+close my record with their merry, jangling chorus. Is it not the fate
+of the innocent to suffer in this life for the sins of the wicked? Lady
+Eversleigh's widowhood, Douglas Dale's lonely life, are the work of
+Victor Carrington--a work not to be undone upon this earth. If he has
+failed in all else, he has succeeded at least in this: he has ruined
+the happiness of two lives. For both his victims time brings peace--a
+sober gladness that is not without its charm. For one a child's
+affection--a child's growing grace of mind and form, bring a happiness
+on, clouded at intervals by the dark shadows of past sorrow. But in the
+heart of Douglas Dale there is an empty place which can never be filled
+upon earth.
+
+"Will the Eternal and all-seeing One forgive her for her reckless,
+useless life, and shall I meet her among the blest in heaven?" he asks
+himself sometimes, and then he remembers the holy words of comfort
+unspeakable: "Come unto me, ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I
+will give you rest."
+
+Had not Paulina been "weary, and heavy laden," bowed down by the burden
+of a false accusation, friendless, hopeless, from her very cradle?
+
+He thought of the illimitable Mercy, and he dared to hope for the day
+in which he should meet her he loved "Beyond the Veil."
+
+ THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Run to Earth, by M. E. Braddon
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