CIHM Microfiche Series (Monograplis) ICMH Collection de microfiches (monographles) SI CamdlMi iMtttuta for HlMorieal MleranproductlaM / Imtitiit earadian da microraproductlara MMortqiMM Tlw Im titim hai atiMipiMl to ckoin Hm ban orithnl com imUM* «w f llmht. FMtwHO«Mioaw«liWi of tM iiH9|Bt in vn ivpfodiictiofif w wnMi iiMif I VN HHIH IMIROO OV fMHIMff MS D I Covtrt Covtn fMtopid Mitf/Df ImMmmI/ COHMftW fWtMWW Vt/OMpMfMIIM a □ CoiwtM* UtiM* r~~| Celo«nd mpi/ r-TI Coloi iw d ink (it. sMw Uwn bkM or btak)/ ULl Eiwndac • oeulMr U.t. want qX 14X 11X 2ZX »X 30X J ^ ^^^ "■^ wx MX aox i*X 2»X 32* TIM copy fllnud hara hm bMn raproduead thank* to tha aanaroalty ol: National Library of Canada L'axamplaira lllm« f ut raprodult griea * la g«n«raaM da: BIbllotMqua natlonala du Canada Th* Imaga* appaaring hara ara tha baat quality potalbl* contldaring tha condition and lagiblllty of tha original copy and in kaaping with tha filming contract ipaclficatlona. Original copiaa In printad papar covara ara filmad baginning with tha front covar and anding on tha laat paga «vith a printad or iiiuatratad Impraa- tlon, or tha back oovar whan appropriat*. AH othar original capiat ara filmad baginning on tha firat paga with a printad or illuatratad Impraa- tion. and anding on tha last paga with a printad or iiiuitratad impraulon. Th« laat raeordad frama on aach microficha thaN contain tha aymboi — ^ (maaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha lymbol V (maaning "ENO"l, whichavarappliaa. Maps, piatat. chart*, ate. may ba ftimad at diffarant rsductlon ratio*. Tho*a too larga to ba antirsly inciudad in ona axponira ara filmad baginning in tha uppar iaft hand cornar. iaft to right and top to bottom, a* many frama* a* raquirad. The following diagrams illustrata tha Laa imagaa auivantaa ont ttt raproduitak avae ia plu* grand aoin, eompta tanu da ia condition at ds ia nattat* da l'axamplaira film*, at an conformity avac ia* condltione du eontrn da fllmaga. La* axampialfaa orlginaux dont ia eouvartura an paplar aat Imprlm4a aont fllm4* an comman^nt par la pramlar plat at an tarmlnant aolt par la damiira paga qui comporta urM amprainta d'impra**lon ou d'lllu*tratlon, aolt par la aacond plat, aalon la ca*. Tou* la* autra* axampiairaa orlginaux aont film** an commandant par la pramiira paga qui comporta una amprainta dnmpra**lon ou d'illuatration at an tarmlnant par la darnMra paga qui comporta una taHa amprainta. Un da* (ymbola* sulvanta apparattra *ur la darniira Imaga da chaqu* microficha, aalon I* caa: la aymbol* — *- ilgnifia "A SUiVRE". ia (ymbola V aignlfia "FIN". Laa carta*, planchaa. tableaux, ate, pauvant ttn flimta * daa taux da rMuetlon difftrant*. lAraqua la document eat trap grand pour ttra reproduit en un aaui ciicht. 11 aat film* t partir da i'angi* aupiriaur gauche, de geuche * droite, et de haut en baa, an prenent ie nombre d'imagae niceaaaira. Laa dtaigrammae auhranta iiluatrent la mMhoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MCMCenr HMUfflON TBI CMAIT (ANS( ond OO TIST OiAItT No. 2) 1^ ■ 2.2 ■■i In 1 ■ 1.8 1t93 Coat IMn Knrt fcj*j*«r. Nm Yort, 146M USA (716) 4M - 0300 - Phof» (716) JB8-5989-P.W rmK CANADIAN COPYRIGHT EDITION SCENES OF CLERI- CAL LIFE- SILAS MARNER,wo.^..^,,,^, By GEORGE ELIOT TORONTO . GEORGE N. MORANG & COMPANY. LIMITED . MCMII PfK Si 261179 B>Uf»I KMr^y approached, by ^nf^TT "" "J"y»*«"°- ""d untn«,.ibl. «. the o^en- bg of the flower, or the breaking-out of iue .tare, a sUte ap- p^ m front of the gallery, adverti.ing in bold cha^l^to?, rf the c^erk ihould bciU leave the bucolic mi:.-! in doubt on ^^^\ ^''•° '""'""^ the migration of thederk to tSe gallery, where, m company with a basaoon, two key-bugle* plem«tof a choir regarded in Shepperton a. one of dietin- guuhed attnustxon, ocoaaionally known to draw hearer, from the next panah. The innovation of hymn-book. wa. aa vrt "'^•^, "^i ?'*° "" N'- Vereion^a. reg«de"w"th I jortrf melancholy tol.r«ice. a. part of the common d'sler- ™ n„^ I^""" P""" ^ ^"^^'^ ""^ • cotton Vwn S^h^lH H S ''r*' ^ Shepperton had \mn totmld on S^e^i "I °P''""- ^"* *•"> «"»*•»* triumph, of Z Shepperton choir were rewrved for the Sunday, when the .la±. Zr^'^^l^' '''^ " '"'"■fi'"^ aUtfnen^ from i^ taouUmabon, both word, and mu.ic lying far beyond tt^ r««h of the mo.t jmb itiou. amateur in the congreg^ion :_^ anthem ii which the key-bugle, alway. ran away at a ere<^ .r'aSr^^^m"'^" every now an/ then boomVa'S m^ iZ ^^ f "8y"^, Mr. Gilfil, an excellent old gentle- uTlTl ■°°'* I"- ./I^k °f him. or I might be t.mptS to iZn. 7 ""^ """ ■«" "^ '««'°^ "^"J tobacco An"^t -the Bev. Amo. Barton, who did not come to Shenoerton until long after Ml Gilfil had departed thi. lift:Sr,^r an interval in which Evangelicalumi and the Catholic Que.- 4 SCENES OF OLEmOAL LITE. tion had begun to agitata the nutio mind with oonirOTenial debatea. A Popish blacksmith had produced a strong Prot- estant reaction by declaring that, as soon as the Emancipation Bill was passed, he should do a great stroke of business in gridirons ; and the disinclination of the Shepperton parishion- ers generally to dim the unique glory of St JJawrence, ren- dered the Church and Constitution an afiaii of their business and bosoms. A zealous Eyangelical preacher had made the old sounding-board vibrate with quite a different sort of eloon- tion from Mr. Oil£l's; the hymn-book had almost superseded the Old and New Versions; and the great square pews were crowded with new faces from distant comers of the parish — perhaps from Dissenting chapels. You are not im ag inin g, I hope, that Amos Barton was the incumbent of Shepperton. He was no such thing. Those were days when a man could hold three small livings, starve a curate apiece da two of them, and live badly himself on the third. It was so with the Vicar of Shepperton; a vicar given to bricks and mortar, and thereby running into debt far away in a northern county — who executed his vicarial functions toward Shepperton by pocketing the sum of thirty-five ponnds ten per annum, the net surplus remaining to him from the proceeds of that living, after the disbursement of eighty pounds as the annual stipend of his curate. And now, pray, can you solve me the following problem? Given a man with a wife and six children : let him be obliged always to exhibit himself when outside his own door in a suit of black broad- cloth, such as will not undermine the foundations of the Es- tablishment by a paltry plebeian glossinesa or an unseemly whiteness at tie edges; in a snowy cravat, which is a serious investment of labor in the hemming, starching, and ironing departments ; and in a hat which shows no symptom of taking to the hideous doctrine of expediency, and shaping itself ac- cording to circumstances; let him have a parish large enough to create an external necessity for abundant shoe-leather, and an internal necessity for abundant beef and muttnn, as well as poor enough to require frequent priestly consolation in the shape of shillings and sixpences; and, lastly, let him be com- pelled, by his own pride and other people's, to dress his wife AMOS BABTON. 5 and chUdren with gentiUty from bomiet-.trings to Bhoe-.triiig8. By what piooeM of divUion oan the mm of eighty pounds per annum be made to yield a quotient which will cover that mao'« weekly ejtponses? Thig was the problem presented by the position of the Bey. Amos Barton, as curate of Shepperton! rather more than twenty years ago. What was thought of thig problem, and of the man who had to work It out, by some of the well-to^o inhabitants of Shep- perton, two years or more after Mr. Barton'a arrival among aiem, you shaU hear, if you will accompany me to Croei Farm, and to the firegide of Mrs. Patten, a childless old lady, nothmg. Mrs. Patten's passive aooumulati<»i of wealth! throngh all sorts of "bad times," on the farm of which sh^ had been sole tenant smoe her husband's death, her epigram- matao neighbor, Mrs. Haokit, sarcastically accounted for by supposmg that "sixpences grew on the bents of Cross Farm " • ■ f Ir: "^"*' «^P"«»ing his views more literally, re^ mmded his wife that « money breeds money." Mr. and Mrs Hackit, from the neighboring farm, are Mrs. Patten's guesti ™l!I!r"*' ""v " ^- ^'^<^^ ^^ *<»<»' *'«» the nearest mwket^own, who, though occasi<».ally affecting aristocratic airs, and giving late dinners with enigmatic side-dishes and poisonous port, 1. never so comfortable as when he is relaxing wtrfr'"" ^ ?°,°°' °' *^'' «««"«°t farmhousei where the mice are sleek and the mistress sickly. And he IS at this moment in clover. her^'l^ri^h?"'"""*. "*.*'"'• ^'"'°''' ''"8ht fire is reflected in her bright copper tea-Kettle, the home-made muffins glisten ^^^f^^lT^'T' """^ ^- ^"^'^ "•««. "Single ^JJ ^l ^^° ¥" '"^""'^ ^^ "<»* ^««8ible offers out of devotion to her aged aunt, is pouring the rich cream into the fragrant tea with a discreet liberality is th^™l ''^/T T' ^^ """*' * ""P "^ t«» ^ ^^ Gibbs a tlus moment handmg to Mr. Pilgrim? Do you know the bllTj^f^' w '^^'^^ bi^^eBB of tea suificiently Mended with real farmhouse cream? No-most likely you «e a miserable town-bred reader, who thinks of cream u a thmnish white fluid, delivered in infinitesimal pennyworth^ C SCEMXS OF CLERICAL LIFB. down area steps; or perhaps, from a presentiment of oalves' brains, you refrain from any lacteal addition, and rasp your tongue with unmitigated bohea. You have a vague idea of a milch cow as probably a white plaster animal standing in a butterman's window, and you know nothing of the sweet his- tory of genuine cream, such as Miss Gibbs's : how it was this morning in the udders of the large sleek beasts, as they stood lowing a patient entreaty under the milking-shed ; how it fell with a pleasant rhythm into Betty's pail, sending a delicious incense into the cool air; how it was carried into that temple of moist cleanliness, the dairy, where it quietly separated it- self from the meaner elements of milk, and lay in mellowed whiteness, ready for the skimming-dish which transferred it to Miss Oibbs's glass cream-jug. If I am right in my conject- nre, you are unacquainted with the highest possibilities of tea; and Mr. IJilgrim, who is holding that cup in his hand, has an idea beyond you. Mrs. Hackit declines cream; she has so long abstained from it with an eye to the weekly butter-money, that abstinenoe, wedded to habit, hae begotten aversion. She is a thin woman with a chronic liver-complaint, which would have secured her Mr. Pilgrim's entire regard and unreserved good word, even if he had not been in awe of her tongue, which was as sharp as his own lancet. She has brought her knitting — no frivo- lous fancy knitting, but a substantial woollen stocking; the click-click of her knitting-needles is the running accompani- ment to all her conversation, and in her utmost enjoyment of spoiling a friend's self-satisfaction, she was never known to spoil a stocking. Mrs. Patten does not admire this excessive click-clicking activity." Quiescence in an easy-ohair, under the sense of compound interest perpetually accumulating, has long seemed an ample function to her, and she does her malevolence gently. She is a pretty little old woman of eighty, with a close cap and tiny flat white curls round her face, as natty and unsoiled and invariable as the waxen image of a little old lady under a glass-case; once a lady's-maid, and married for her beauty. She used to adore her husband, and now she adores her money, cherishing a quiet blood-relation's hatred for her AM08 BARTON. 7 niece, Janet Gibbs, who, she knows, expects a large legacy, and whom she is determined to disappoint. Her mtmej shall all go in a lump to a distant relation of her husband's, and Janet shall be saved the trouble of pretending to cry, by find- ing that she is left with a miserable pittance. Mrs. Patten has more respect for her neighbor Mr. Hackit than for most people. Mr. Hackit is a shrewd, substantial man, whose advice about crops is always worth listeniug to, and who is too well ofE to want to borrow money. And now that we are snug and warm with this little tea- party, while it is freezing with February bitterness outside, we will listen to what they are talking about. " So," said Mr. PUgrim, with his mouth only half empty of muffin, " you had a row in Shepperton Church last Sunday. I was at Jem Hood's, the bassoon-man's, this morning, attend- ing his wife, and he swears he'll be revenged on the parson— a confounded, methodistical, meddlesome chap, who must be putting his finger in every pie. What was it all about? " "Oh, a passill o' nonsense," said Mr. Hackit, sticking one thumb between the buttons of his capacious waistcoat and retaining a pinch of snuff with the other— for he was but mod- erately given to "the cups that cheer but not inebriate," and had already finished his tea; "they began to sing the wedding psahn for a new-married couple, as pretty a psalm an' as pretty a tune as any in the prayer-book. It's been sung for every new-married couple since I was a boy. And what can be bet- ter?" Here Mr. Hackit stretched out his left arm, threw back his head, and broke into melody : "'Oh, what a happy thing it is, And joyful for to see, Brethren to dwell together in Friendship and unity. ^ But Mr. Barton is all for the hymns, and a sort o' music as I can't join in at all." 'I And so," said Mr. PUgrim, recalling Mr. Hackit from lyrical remmisoences to narrative, "he called out SUencel did he? when he got into the pulpit; and gave a hymn out him- self to some meeting-house tune? " "Yee," said Mrs. Hackit, stooping toward the candle to BOEMES or OLBRIOAL LIFX. {dokapaatitoh, "and tuned asMdas a tarkcy-ooek. I oftm my, when he preaoltes about meekneu, he gives himwlf a •hkp in the faoe. He's like me — he's got a tSBiper of his own." "Bather a low-bred fellow, I think, Barton," said Mr. Pil- grim, who hated the Bev. Amos for two reasons — because he had called in a new doctor, recently settled in Shepperton; and because, being himself a dabbler in drugs, he had the «redit of having cored a patient of Ilr. Pilgrim's. "They say his father was a Dissenting shoemaker; and he's half a Dissenter himself. Why, doesn't he preach extempore in that cottage up here, of a Sunday evening? " "Tohuhl" — this was Mr. Haokifs favorite interjection — " that preaching without book's no good, only when a man has a gift, and has the Bible at his fingers' ends. It was all very well for Pdrry — he'd a gift; and in my youth I've heard the Banters out o' doors in YoiKshire go on for an hour or two on end, without ever sticking fast a minute. There was one clever chap, I remember, as csed to say : ' You're like the wood-pigeon; it says do, do, do all day, and never sets about any work itself.' That's bringing it home to people. But our parson's no gift at all that way; he can preach as good a sermon as need be heard when he writes it down. But when he tries to preach wi'out book, he rambles about, and doesn't stick to his text; and every now and then he flounders about like a sheep as has oast itself, and can't get on its legs agiin. Tou wouldn't like that, Mrs. Patten, if yon was to go to church now? " "Eh, dear," said Mrs. Patten, falling book in her chair, and lifting up her little withered hands, " what 'ud Mr. Qilfil say, if he was worthy to know the changes as have come about i' the church these last ten years? I don't understand these new sort o' doctrines. When Mr. Barton comes to see me, he talks about nothing but my sins and my need o' marcy. Kow, Mr. Hackit, I've never been a sinner. Prom the fust begin- ning, when I went into service, I al'ys did my duty by my emplyers. I was a good wife as any in the county — never aggravated my husband. The cheese-factor used to say my cheese was al'ys to be depended on. I've known women, as AMOS BABTON. 9 tiMir olwMM swelled a dame to be .een, when their hneband. had counted on the cheese-money to n^ke up ^^T^^a yet they'd three gown, to my one. If r^o^^ ZlZ I .»n t go to church any longer, for if th' old singers Z to be done away with, there'U be nothing left as it ^1^1^ Patten's tune; and what's more, I hear you've M,ttT^ ^ ^1 the ohurch down and build it up new?" ^ ^ *° P"" • ^T *^ ^"t'*' *"* *^» »®^- -^o* Barton, on hi, lut rnbL.^"- /?"*"' ^""^ "'»«' ^•« 'o enlarge irp^miS subscription of twenty pounds, representing to her thT s^ w«, only a steward of her riches, and that she co^d not Ln^ them more for the glory of God than by givi^ h^vS «npt»n toward the rebuilding of sLp^pertfn Sh'^ practical precept which was not likely to snooth the Way t^ her acceptance of his theological dooWne. Mr. Ha^LI whi ^H?"'! ^T^"^ enlightenment than Mrs. Pa^t h*d £ a htae shocked by the heathenism of her sp.ech,Td ww gS SSal maSs. " •'^"'=^-"^» -^ an authority iL aU uI^'a ^•,*°'"'»^' "tl«> PMson's bothered us into it at las^and we're to begin pulling down this spring But wl haven't got money enough yet. I was for wLting tiU we'd feU ofE o' late; though Mr. Barton says that's beoans^™'! teen no room for the peopls when tiiey'v. <^ Yo^" ' tt. o«.grega^ . got so large in Parry's time, the peopL " to^ in^the aisle. at there's never any crowd ^,^^^2 Bol^'yi""** ^.- ^'^^^ "^"^ «°°^ »»t»^« began to act ^wttatitwas a Uttle in contradiction with the dlk^ toneof the conversation, "/ like Mr. Barton. I thinH^. a good sort o' man, for all he's net overburthen'd i'th' upper m„ * ^ .T "^ ^^^ ^^f" J'W Children! and little enough money to do't with; and a deUcate creatur'-six cMtonZd ^ojer a-coming. I don't know how they make ST'erd^ meet, I m sure, now her aunt has left 'em. But I sent 'em 10 SOBNIS OF OLSBIOAL UTE. a ohe«M and a sack o' potatoes lait week; that's iiomething toward filling the little months." "Aht" said Mr. Haokit, " and my wife makes JCr. Barton a good stiff glass o' brandy-snd-water, when he comes in to supper after his cottage preaching. The parson likes it; it pats bit o' color into his face, and makes him look a deal handsomer." This allusion to brandy-and-water suggested to Miss Oibbs the introduction of the liquor decanters, now that the tea was cleared away; for in bucolic society fire and twenty years ago, the human animal of the male sex was understood to be per- petually athirst, and " something to drink " was as necessary a " condition of thought " as Time and Space. "Now, that cottage preaching," said Mr. Pilgrim, mixing himself a strong glass of ' cold without,' " I was talking about it to our Farsoh Ely the other day, and he doesn't approve of it at all. He said it did as much harm as good to give a too familiar aspect to religious teaching. That was what Ely said — it does as much harm as good to give a too famUiar aspect to religious teaching." Mr. Pilgrim generally spoke with an intermittent kind of splutter ; indeed, one of his patients had obseired that it was a pity such a clever man had a '"pediment" in his speech. But when he came to what he conceived the pith of his argu- ment or the point of his joke, he mouthed out his words with slow emphasis; ac a hen, when advertising her accouchement, I>asses at irregular intervals from pianissimo semiquavers to fortissimo crotchets. He thought this speech of Mr. Ely's particularly metaphysical and profound, and the more decisive of the >jpie8tion because it was a generality which represented no particulars to his mind. "Well, I don't know about that," said Mrs. Hackit, who had always the courage of her opinion, " but I know, some of our laborers and stockingcrs as used never to come to church, come to the cottage, and that's better than never hearing any- thing good from week's end to week's end. And there's that Track Society as Mr. Barton has begun — I've seen more o' the poor people with going tracking, than all the time I've lived in the parish before. And there' d need be something done AMOS BABTON. U •moag '«m ; for tb« drinking at them Benefit Glaba u t„uune- ful. There's hardly a iteady man, or steady woman either, but what's a Dissenter." During this speeohof Mrs. Haokit's, Mr. Pilgrim had emit- ted a succession of little snorts, something like the treble grunts of a guinea-pig, which were always with him the sign of suppressed disapproval. But he never contradicted Mrs. Haokit— a woman whose "pot-luok" was always to be relied on, and who on her side had unlimited reliance on bleeding, blistering, and draughts. Mrs. Fatten, however, felt equal disapprobation, and had no reasons for suppressing it. "Well," she remarked, "I've beared of no good from in- terfering with one's neighbors, poor or rich. And I hate the sight o' women going about trapesing from house to house in all weathers, wet or dry, and coming in with their petticoats dagged and their shoes all over mud. Janet wanted to join in tlie tracking, but I told her I'd have nobody tracking out o' my house; when I'm. gone, she may do as she likes. I never dagged my pectiooats in my life, and I've no opinion o' that sort o' religion." "No," said Mr. Haokit, who was fond of soothing the acer- bities of the feminine mind with a jocose compliment, "you held your petticoats so high, to show your tight ankles : it isn't everybody as likes to show her ankles." This joke met with general acceptance, even from the snubbed Janet, whose ankles were only tight in the sense of looking extremely squeezed by her boots. But Janet seemed always to identify herself with her aunt's personality, holding her own under protest. Under cover of the general laughter the gentlemen replen- ished their glasses, Mr. Pilgrim attempting to give his the character of a stirrup-cup by observing that he "must be going." Miss Gibbs seized this opportunity of telling Mrs. Haokit that she suspected Betty, the daiiymaid, of frying the best bacon for the shepherd, when he sat up with her to " help brew"; whereupon Mrs. Haokit replied that she had always thought Betty false; and Mrs. Patten said there was no bacon stolen when she was able to manage. Mr. Haokit, who often 19 60EI7B8 OF OUtRIOAL UFB. oompUiiMd th«t he " nerer mw the like to women irith their maide— he nerer had any trouble with hie men," avoided H»- tening to this discussion, by raising the question of Tetohee with Mr. Pilgrim. The stream of oened without delay by the nurse, cook, and housemaid, al' .g once — that is to say, by the robust maid-of-all-work, Nanny; and as Mr. Barton hangs up his hat in the passage, you see that a narrow ffce of no particular complexion — even the small-pox that has at- tacked it seems to have been of a mongrel, indefinite kind— with features of no particular shape, and au eye of no partic- ular expression, is surmounted by a slope of baldness gently rising from biow to orown. You judge him, rightly, to be about forty. The house is quiet, for it is haU-past ten, and the children have long been gone to bed. He opens the sit- ting-toom door, but instead of seeing his wife, as he oxpected, stitching with the nimblest of fingers by the light of one can- dle, he finds her dispensing with the light of a candle alto- gether. She is softly pacing up and down by the red firelight, holding in her arms little Walter, the year-old baby, who looks over her shoulder with large wide-open eyes, while the patient mother pats his back with her soft hand, and glances with a sigh at the heap of large and small stockings lying un- mended on the table. She waa a lovely woman — Mrs. Amos Barton ; a large, fair, gentle Madonna, with thick, close, chestnut curls beside her well-rounded cheeks, and with large, tender, short-sighted eyes. The flowing lines of her tall figure made the limpest dress look graceful, and her old frayed black silk seemed to repose on her bust and limbs with a placid elegance and sense of distinction, in strong contrast with the uneasy sense of being no fit, that seemed to express itself in the rustling of AXOB BARTOir. M Mm. Fuqnliar'i fnt d$ Nofitt. The Mp« iha won wonld bar* been ptonounoed, when off her head, utterly he«Ty and hideoot— for in thoee dajra eren fuhionable caps were lar^ and floppy) but inrronnding her long arohed neok, and '^ gling their borderi of cheap lace and ribbon with hf- oh( onrli, they letmed miraolee of suooeaaful millinery. A ■tranger* ihe was shy and tremuloun an a girl of fifteen blushed orimson ii any one appealed to her opinion i ye* i tall, graceful, substantial presence was so iir posing it mildness, that men spoke to her with an agreeable sensMS* of timidity. Soothing, unspeakable charm of gentle womanhood I - hieh supersedes all aoquisitioni., all acoomplishiienta. You "»ould never have asked, at any period of Mrs. Amos Barton s life, if she sketched or played the piano. You would even y- rhaps have been rather scandalized if she had descended fr' n thu serene dignity of being to the assiduous unrest of doinf. Happy the man, you would have thoughv, whose ey lil r»«t on her in the pauses of his fireside reading— whose , ach.u ■ forehead will be soothed by the contact of her cool soft hand— who will recover himself from dejection at his roixtakes an failures in the loving light of her unreproaching eyesl You would not, perhaps, have anticipated that this bliss would fall to the share of precisely guoh a man as Amos Barton, whom you have already surmised not to have the refined sensibilities for which you might have imagined Mrs. Barton's qualities to be destined by pre-established harmony. But I, for one, do not gmdge Amos Barton this sweet wife. I have all my life had a sympathy for mongrel ungainly dogs, who are nobody's pets; and I would rather surprise one of them by a pat and a pleasant morsel, than meet the condescending advances of the loveliest Skye-terrier who has his cushion by my lady's chair. That, to be sure, is not the way of the world: if it happens to see a fellow of fine proportions and aristocratic mien, who makes nofauxpai, and wins golden opinions from all sorts of men, it straightway picks oat for him the lovelie:>t of unmar- ried women, and says. There would be a proper match I Not at all, say I: let that suoooBsful, well-shapen, discreet, and able gentleman put up with something less than the best in m u •oiwiB or ounuoAL um ttwnMtrimonkldqMrtmrati ud Irt th« ■wwt wonum n to mA» ranahiiM Md a loft pUlow for th« poor d«TU wbow^ •renotmodda, wImm •fforti u* oft«n blandm, wd whota will Ure aU the mor* toope; and I rentan to lay, Mn . Ut- ton • natan would nerer have grown haU n angslio if iIm had married the man you would perhapa hare had in your eye tor her-a man with luffloieDt income and abundant perwul Mat. Beaidea, Amoa waa an affectionate huaband, and. in hia way, valued hia wife aa hia beat treaaure. ^ But now he haa ahut the door behind him. and aaid i « Well, "Well, dearl" waa the oorreaponding greeting, made elo- quent by a amile. hiItoSlyr^"^"°°'*«°*°*'-f' ''*-'* y^'^-' l^ A" i^^l ^*">^ «"•" And Mra. Barton gUd^ toward the kitohen. whUe her hoabaud ran upatain. 'm put "*■ ., ■^»»«-«°l»'*l dreeaing-gown, in which ooatume he war quietly filling hia long pipe when hia wife returned to the eitting-room. Maixe ia a oolor that decidedly did not auit hia c^plexion, and it ia one that aoon aoiU, why, then, did Mr. Barton aoleot it for domeatio wear? Perhapa beeanae he !>»d a iLuaok of hitting on the inrong thing in garb aa well aa in grammar. Mrs. Barton now lighted her candle, and aeated heraaU before her heap of etookinga. She had something diaasree- able to teU her husband, butahe would not enter oTit at once. ™ «« «» " Have you had a nioe evening, dearf " "Yes, pretty weU. Ky waa there to dinner, but went away rather early. Miss Arabella is setting her cap at him with a vengeance. But I don't think he's much smitten. I've a notion Ely's engaged to some one at a distance, and will astonish all the ladies who are languishing for him here, bv he'U like that.' > days. Ely's a sly dog ; AKOa BARTOir. If SBwuJf^ l^uluOT «iy uythlng tboDt th« .inging lui "Yjwi FM,nh« Mid be thought it wm time there wu Mm. taprorement in the choir. But he wm rtther wand*!- bed .t my letting the tune of ' Lydi.. ' He My. he'. .Iway. hewing it M he paaMs the Independent meeting. " Here Mr other people thought dam«ging-«,d thereby ihowtd the re- minder of « «,t of Meth which, Ulce the remnuit. of the Old w^"^ ^^.J^\ number „d rery much the woree for wear. But," he continued, "Mr.. Farquhar talked the moat about Mr. Bridmain and the Countew. She ha. taken up idl the goe.ip about them, and wanted to convert me to her opunw,, but I told her pretty .trotgly what I thought." Dear mel why will people Uke lo much pain, to find out enl about other,? I hare had a note from thVZTteM .in^ you went, aakmg u. to dine with them on Friday » «?-.r!!\*^vT''^ ^' "°'« '«"" the mantelpiece, wltTn'/ir ^m" ■-^rt'^y" l«"lT '«e with your hntbuid to din. ttat »«ry moBMuit. Youx^ «oonllng to your bomwoT ' CaBOLIKI ClIBUlKI. " I Buppoae "Jurt like her, im't it?" Mid Mrs. Barton we can go? " " Yea; I have r engagement The Clerical Meeting i. to- morrow, you knov ." '* "And, dear, Woods the butcher called, to .ay he must have Mme money next week. He haa a payment to make up " ThiB announcement made Mr. Barton thoughtful. He puffed more rapidly, and looked at the fire. I think I mu.t aak Hackit to lend me twenty pounds, for ^w nearly two months till Lady-day, and we can-rgive Wood, our last shilling." ^ Hacfat have been so vei. kind to us; they have sent us m auuiy thmgs lately." 18 SOKNliB OF OLBRIOAL UFE. Then I must ask Oldinport. I'm going to write to him to-morrow mommg, for to teU him the arrangement I've been thinkmg of about having serrioe in the workhouse whUe the church IB being enlarged. If he agrees to attend serrice there once or twice, the other people wiU come. Net the large fish, and you're sure to have the small fry." "I wish we could do without borrowing money, and yet I don t ^ how we can. Poor Fred must have some new shoes ; I couldn't let him go to Mrs. Bond's yesterday because his toes were peeping out, dear child I and I can't let him walk ^ywhere except in the garden. He must have a pair before Sunday. Keally, boots and shoes are the greatest troable of "V ,. T*,'^*^"'8 else one can turn and turn about, and make old look like new; but there's no coaxing boote and shoes to look better than they are." Mrs. Barton was playfully undervaluing her skill in meta- morphosmg boots and shoes. She had af 'hat moment on her feet a pair of slippers which had long ago lived through the prunella phase of their existence, and were now running a respectable career as black silk sUppers, having been n^tly ^vered with that material by Mrs. Barton's own neat fingers. Wonderful fingers those I they were never empty; for if she went to spend a few hours with a friendly parishioner, out came her thimble and a piece of calico or muslin, which before she left had become a mysterious little garment with aU sorts of hemmed ins and outs. She was even trying to per- suade herhnsband to leave off tight pantaloons, because if he would wear the ordinary gun-oases she knew she could make them so well that no one would suspect the sex of the tailor But by this time Mr. Barton has finished hU pipe, the candle begms to bum low, and Mrs. Bart»n goes to see if Nanny has succeeded in lulling Walter to sleep. Nanny is that moment putting him in the UtUe cot by his mother's bedside; the head, with ito thin waveleta of brown hair, in- dents the httle pillow; and a tiny, waxen, dimpled fist hides the rosy lips, for baby is given to the infantine peccadillo of thumb-sucking. So Nanny could now join in the short evening prayer, and all could go to bed. —^rji AXOB BARTON. 1« Mis. Barton carried upstairs the remainder of her heap of stockings, and laid them on a table close to her bedside, where also she placed a warm shawl, removing her candle, before she put it out, to a tin socket fixed at the head of her bed. Her body was very weary, but her heart was not heavy, in spite of Mr. Woods the butcher, and the transitory nature of shoe-leather; for her heart so overflowed with love, she felt sure she was near a fountain of love that would care for hus- band and babes better than she could foresee; so she was soon asleep. But about half-past five o'clock in the morning, if there were any angels watching round her bed— and angeis might be glad of such an office— they saw Mrs. Barton rise up quietly, careful not to disturb the slumbering Amos, who was snoring the snore of the just, light her candle, prop herself upright with the pillows, throw the warm shawl round her shoulders, and renew her attack on the heap of undamed stockings. She darned away imtil she heard Nanny stirring, and then drowisness came with the dawn; the candle was put out, and she sank into a doze. But at nine o'clock she was at the breakfast-table, busy cutting bread-and-butter for five hungry mouths, while Nanny, baby on one arm, in rosy cheeks, fat neck, and night-got 71, brought in a jug of hot milk and water. Nearest her mother sits the nine-year-old Patty, the eldest child, whose sweet fair face is already rather grave sometimes, and who always wants to run upstairs to save mamma's legs, which get so tired of an evening. Then there are four other blond heads— two boys and two girls, gradually decreasing in size down to Chubby, who is making a round O of her mouth to receive a bit of papa's " baton." Papa's attention was divided between petting Chubby, rebuk- ing the noisy Fred, which he did with a somewhat excessive sharpness, and eating his own breakfast. He had not yet looked at Mamma, and did not know that her cheek was paler than usual. But Patty whispered: "Mamma, have you the headache? " Happily coal was cheap in the neighborhood of Shepper- ton, and Mr. Hackit would any time let his horses draw a load for "the parson " without charge; so thsre was a blazing fire in the sitting-room, and not without need, for the vi- SCENB8 OF CLERICAL HFB. oarage ^en, as they looked out on it from the bow-window Breakfast over, Mr. Barton mounted to his study and oo- ^pi«i hunaelf m the first place with his lettert M^.^fd^ port. It was very much the samesortof letter as most ole^. men would hay- ^tten under the same circumstan"^ exZt Si rdtLi^oTrifiS;^''ipt;?> r^ ^ "-^• tte pft of perfect accuracy in English orthography and s^ tax which wa^ unfortunate, as he was kno^^not to ^a Hebrew scholar, and not in the least suspected of befa.r«n through tie Eleusmian mysteries of a university edu«iti^n surprised the young ladies of his parish extrem" y^ T^l ^«r ^'^■' ''PP»"°"y »" abbreviation for Madams TO persons least surprised at the Eev. Amoe's dehoienc'es were t^L^S '"''""' ^'° "-' «"'"' ^^ «»« -y^^n At eleven o'clock, Mr. Barton walked forth in cape and boa, with the sleet driving in hU face, to read prayeX tte work-house, euphuistically called the^College."^ SeCoUe^e wasahugei«juare stone buUding, standing on thetstaSl- ogy foran elevation of ground that could be seen for atout ^ miles round Shepperton. A flat ugly disS to de r^r* T"^? *" .'°°'' "* «^*" °» «>« brightest day^' T^ roads are black with coal-dust^ the kick houses di^gy w^tt smoke; an, at that time-the time of handloom we^e^: eveiy ot.« cottage had a loom at its window. Xre v^ mi^t see a pale, sickly looking man or womi' p^^": w^witlr";' " """f ' ""^ '*°"8 " -^ ofTeZill work with legs and arms. A troublesome district for a cler- ^man; at least to one who, like Amos Barton, understood the "cure oj souls" in something more than an o£ setTo laborers, the miners brought obstreperous animali4 and the weavers an acrid Radicalism and"^ Dissent InL^l^! AMOS BARTON. 31 Hsokit often obseired that the ooUiers, who many of them earned better wages than Mr. Barton, "passed their time in doing nothing but swilling ale and smoking, like the beasts that perish" (speaking, we may presume, in a remotely ana- logic^ sense) ; and m some of the ale-house corners the drink was flavored by a dingy kind of infldeUty, something like rinsings of Tom Paine in ditch-water. A certain amount of religious excitement created by the popular preaching of Mr Parry, Amos's predecessor, had nearly died out, and the religl lous life of Shepperton was falling back toward low-wat« mark. Here, you perceive, was a terrible stronghold of Sa- tan; and you may weU pity the Rev. Amos Barton, who had to Bt^d smgle-handed and summon it to surrender. We I read, indeed, that the walls of Jericho fell down before the [ sound of trumpets; but we nowhere hear that those trumpets were hoarse and feeble. Doubtless they were trumpets that T" T^- °^«" /'"King tones, and sent a mighty vibration through bnck and mortar. But the oratory of the Rev. Amos resembled rather a Belgian railway-horn, which shows praise- worthy intentions inadequately fulfilled. He often missed the right note both in public and private exhortation, and got ^ Uttle angry m consequence. For though Amos thought himseU strong, he did not feel himself strong. Nature had given him the opinion, but not the sensation. Without that opmion he would probably never have worn cambric bands, but would have been an exceUent cabinet-maker and deacon of an Independent church, as his father was before him rhe was not a shoemaker, as Mr. Pilgrim had reported). He might then have sniffed long and loud in the comer of his pew, in Gun Street Chapel; he might have indulged in halt- ing rhetoric at prayer-meetings, and have spoken faulty Enjr- hsh m private life; and these little infirmities would not have prevented him, honest faithful man that he was, from being a shinmg light in the Dissenting circle of Bridgeport. A tal- low dip, of tiie long-eight description, is an excellent thing in the kitchen candlestick, and Betty's nose and eye are not sen- sitive to the difference between it and the finest wax: it is only wh«n you stick it in the sUver candlestick, and introduce It mto the drawing-room, that it seems plebeian, dim, and in- ** SCBNBfl OF CLBHIOAL LIFE. ^ effectual. Alas for the worthy man who, like the oandle, geti hunaelf into the wrong placet It is only the very largest souls who will be able to appreciate and pity him— who wUl discern and love sincerity of purpose amid all the bungling feebleness of achievement. But now Amos Barton has made his way through the sleet as far as the College, has thrown off his hat, cape, and boa, i^"^ is readinp, in the dreary stone-floored dining-room, a por- tiuu of the mjming service to the inmates seated on the btiiches before him. Bemember, the New Poor-law had not yet come into operation, and Mr. Barton was not acting as paid chaplain of the Union, but as the pastor who had the cure of all souls in his parish, pauper, as well as other. After the prayers he always addressed to them a short discourse on some subject suggested by the lesson for the day, striving if by this means some edifying matter might find its way into the pauper mind and conscience— perhaps a task as trying as you could weU imagine to the faith and patience of any honest clergyman. For, on the very first bench, these were the faces on which his eye had to rest, watching whether there was any sturing under the stagnant surface. Eight in front of him— probably because he was stone-deaf, and it was deemed more edifying to hear nothing at a short distance than at a long one— sat " Old Maxum," as he was familiarly called, his real patronymic remaining a mystery to most perspns. A fine phUological sense discerns in this cog- nomen an indication that the pauper patriarch had once been considered pithy and sententious in his speech; but now tie weight of ninety-five years lay heavy on his tongue as well as on his ears, and he sat before the clergyman with protruded chm, and munching mouth, and eyes that seemed to look at emptiness. Next to him sat Poll Fodge— known to the magistracy of her county as liary Higgins— .. one-eyed woman, with a scarred and seamy face, the most notorious rebel in the work- house, said to have once thrown her broth over the master's coat-taUs, and who, in spit© of nature's apparent safeguards against that contingency, had contributed to the perpetuation of the Fodge characteristics in the person of a small b<^y, who AMOa BABTON. 23 WM bdukving naughtily on one of the back benches. Misa Fodge fixed her one sore eye on Mr. Barton with a sort of iiardy defiance. Beyond this member of the softer sex, at the end of the bench, sat "Silly Jim," a young man afflicted with hydro- cephalus, who rolled his head from side to side, and gazed at the point of his nose. These were the supporters of Old Maxum on his right. On hU left sat Mr. Pitchett, a tall fellow, who had once been a footman in the Oldinport family, and in that giddy elevation had enunciated a contemptuous opinion of boiled beef, which had been traditionally handed down in Shepper- ton as the direct cause of his ultimate reduction to pauper commons. His calves were now shrunken, and his hair was gray without the aid of powder; but he still carried his chin as if he were conscious of a stiff cravat; he set his dilapidated baton with a knowing inclination toward the left ear; and when he was on field-work, he carted and uncarted the manure with a sort of fiunkey grace, the ghost of that jaunty demeanor with which he used to usher in my lady's morning visitors. The flunkey nature was nowhere completely subdued but in his stomach, and he still divided societjr into gentry, gentry's flunkeys, and the people who provided for them. A clergy- man without a flunkey was an anomaly, belonging to neither of these classes. Mr. Mtohett had an irrepressible tendency to drowsiness under spiritual instruction, and in the recurrent regularity with which he dozed off until he nodded and awaked himself, he looked not unlike a piece of mechanism, mgeniously contrived for measuring the length of Mr. Bar- ton's discourse. Perfectly wide-awake, on the contrary, was his left-hand neighbor, Mrs. Brick, one of those hard undying old women, to whom age seems to have given a network of itrinkles, as a coat of magic armor against the attacks of winters, warm or cold. The point on which Mrs. Brick was stiU sensitive— the theme on which you might possibly excite her hope and fear —was snuff. It seemed to be an embalming powder, helping her soul to do the office of salt. And now, eke out an audience oi' yhich this front benchful M 80BNX8 OF dLIRIOAL LIFE. wu a sample, with a owrtain namber of refiaotory ohildien, over whom Mr. Spiatt, the master of the workhouse, exercised an irate sarreillance, and I think you will admit that the uni- veraity-taught clergyman, whose office it it to bring home the gospel lo a handful of such souls, has a sufficiently hard task. For, to hare any chance of soccess, short of miraculous intervention, he must bring his gcjgraphioal, chronological, exegetical mind pretty nearly to the paupci point of view, or of no view ; he must have some approximate conception of the mode in which the doctrines that have so much vitality in the plenum of his own brain will comport themselves t» vacuo — that is to say, in a brain that is neither geographical, chrono- logical, nor exegetical. It is a flexible imagination that can take such a leap as that, and an adroit tongue that can adapt its speech to so unfamiliar a position. The Bev. Amos Barton had neither that flexible imagination, nor that adroit tongue. He talked of Israel and its sins, of chosen vessels, of the Paschal lamb, of blood as a medium of reconciliation; and he strove in this way to convey religious truth within reach of the Fodge and Fitchett mind. This very morning, the first lesson was the twelfth chapter of Exodus, and Ifr. Barton's exposition turned on unleavened bread. Nothing in the world more suited to the simple understanding than instruction thiough familiar types and symbols I But there is always this danger attending it, that tjie interest or comprehension of your hearers may stop short precisely at the point where your spiritual interpretation begins. And Mr. Barton this morning succeeded in carrying the pani>er imagination to the dough- tub, bat unfortunately was not able to carry it upward from that well-known object to the unknown truths which it was intended to shadow forth. Alas! a natural incapacity for teaching, finished by keep- ing " terms " at Cambridge, where there are able mathemati- cians, and butter is sold by the yard, is not apparently the medium through which Christian doctrine will distil as wel- come dew on withered souls. And so, while the sleet outside was turning to unquestion- able snow, and the stony dining-room looked darker and drear- ier, and Mr. Fitchett was nodding his lowest, and Mr. Spratt AUOB BARTON. WM bazing the boys' eara with a oonstant rinforMartdo, as he Mt moie keenly the approach of dinner-time, Mr. Barton woond up his exhortation with something of the February ohill at his heart as well as his feet. Mr. Fitohett, thoroughly roused now the instruction was at an end, obsequiously and gracefully advanced to help Mr. Barton in putting on his cape, while Mrs. Briok rubbed her withered forefinger round and round her little shoe-shaped snuff-box, vainly seeking for the fraction of a pinch. -X can't help thinking that if Mr. Barton had shaken into that little box a small portion of Scotch high- dried, he might have produced something more like an amiable emotion in Mrs. Brick's mind than anything she had felt under his morning's exposition of the unleavened bread. But our good Amos labored under a deficiency of small tact as well as of small cash; and when he observed the action of the old woman's forefinger, he said, in his brusque way: "So your snaff is all gone, eh?" Mrs. Brick's eyes twinkled with the visionary hope that the parson might be intending to replenish her box, at least medi- ately, through the present of a small copper. "Ah, well! you'll soon be going where there is no more snuff. You'll be in need of meroy then. You must remem- ber that you may have to seek for mercy and not find it, jost as you're seeking for suuff." At the first sentence of this admonition, the twinkle sub- sided from Mrs. Brick's eyes. The lid of her box went " click t " and her heart was shut up at the same moment. But now Mr. Barton's attention was called for by Mr. Spratt, who was dragging a small and imwilling boy from the rear. Mr. Spratt was a small-featured, small-statured man, with a remarkable power of language, mitigated by hesitation, who piqued himself on expressing unexceptionable sentiments in unexceptionable language on all occasions. " Mr. Barton, sir — aw — aw — excuse my trespassing on your time — aw — to beg that you will administer a rebuke to this boy ; he is — aw — aw — most inveterate in ill-behavior during service-time." The inveterate culprit was a boy of seven, vainly contend- ing against a cold in his nose by feeble sniffling. But no i " BOKsm or OLiBiOAL un "Th»t's«iy child, Master Bartai," »he MolamiBH ♦»-!. i=Mif«rting her maternal instinote by aDDlv?„^T^ ^" h.roffyruMf'.„o«. " He', al'y. a Lft"** ^ .'ri„H a-poundin' him for nothin'. Let him Zo ^. «t tu'J^ "No-a." The snow was falling in thicker and TS a u '**• AMOS BARTON. ^""^ ^*- ^"M •lippers we at the On." b«.k. for the Lenl^LibC ^ilj'"? "^ ""^be. the eringthem, and they aTe «J1?."./* ^u""* ^ ^^^ •*•" »<>▼- "Oh, I ian't d^ fh^ "".ready w the sitting-room." Je toohoffta'b^t.trpt'hTSilS "^^ ^- - had brought him- "v™, »„.* "" »«« mto the slippers MiUy The s^ing^;^ Z X the..'''" """^ ^*° ^'^^ P"'"- " wd whUe ^mm?.Z> was t„™i.°rr' ""^ schoolroom, had insisted on sup^wZf rn?^ ^"■'"f' *'"' •«»nd boy, wdies. horse, orrh^'t^.^iys "i^^t^r "' ' drawing round the room, so that wk J^^ "^ ''* ^'^ Chubby was giving ton^lnt^^^ ^^ """^ "" '"' be,S5;"°""*'°'*'"-«''^<^-""«"t«oaway. I want to ftokey, help me to oamr ^« i^f ^\ . ""^ ^P^^^ »»d Book Society; thS w!„ h « \^'^ *""" ^^^ ^^""'^ afternoon, ^ he^S ll ^^ '* "^^ "^"^ '* t^^ Vicar.ge,'wWerffsl?;2Tt,^''r"« "* ^"^ The Clerical MeetW anT^u f ^ headquarters. founded somTeiE^L^l^^^"^' "'''''^ ^'^ ^^ on the Rev. Amo's Z^n ^ tffi 1 " °°*^'"*"'' ««<»' ton he was simply ^Lelical „1«L "T *° ^''^PP'"- « o^^Sgfiri^Sor^- r -rr • aOlllIS OF OUSIOAL UFl. ton tad TluniiM Seott wm hia dootrinal id«>].. k. _ u h«Te takM is the ChriMm oL-ZV j !u »' '* """^ could h.v..flo,ss H*t^L2Sr;.«eh^flv''nr^ ^ '• joooM kind, ourr«t i; Ditl^g^Z^ ^d L Ik l'^' But by thw time tha effect of the Trkotwian uit.ti»., h^^ning to be Wt i. b«4w.rd pro^c!^^^^^^"^ ^h^ 2^ :k ^™ "''""»<« of an inteUeotual moTement waa f«lt from tha golden head to the miry toea of the CrKuTk . «d .0 it came to paa, that, X.'^ct^^ifgSr'^'i naurket-town olo«, to Shepperton, the clergy hadlj^'d to Uve a clenca^ moe«ng eve^ month whe«i^eTwoX.te^ o«e the« mtoUeot. by di«,u»iag theological and e^tMLH!^ queabona, and cement their brotherly love hv T^^- wonderfully eaay to conrince him which to« the b^t rI2^ And ,0 a very little unwonted readinHnd ™te^ *dZ^- mmos. He waa like an onion that haa h* out!.. cold A»o. Boton «dhLw7ri audit ^^r**' ''^'' *^« «•'• bw«.th their feet M Vw^n^! '"'^''' ^ "'^•hmg the oriep mow "iidenoe, oont«iBu,g dining, b,^ "!"■«/?'""" ~"°*^ •tc., iitnated only hllf a mUe t^,^^ u '^'■•'"°8 "o""". In.ide, there U XjhT fi„T tt, r^''"'"''" °' ^^'"-^ Wj who i. i«dinin7b^nd » « ° n tn ,'i''*'' '"" '^- »' « and Rowing ,«. ^ dfi'ZTth^h^iJT'"' '^'«*^ who ia Mated in the a™-,i..i ""*."»'' »' the gentlafflaa OTerhi. kneefc Z C..^ ^-^^^'^ "»<* a newspaoer ¥-8 curled up in ^"^^^,7°^^ »•"'', who has beef diecove«d that thrt J^i. <^ h ° , t '*^'™'' ^^""^ <» the Bo^ evidenUv^U tt^inV^iT' ^^ " J""?** P««on on the eiU, go^ Vttethlf ^T"^*^'*^'"'' <»ndlee, which wiU be liahtlr ^"" """« *" ^o wax- « l>«u3 at the C ^^*^ " '°°° "" *^'' "Pooted tn "k clerical, in a faS ^ 1? 't^ .'"-*''• B^ton erect and advancbg to V^2 "* r ' " ^^ ""> ^ountew Czerlaeki elegance ' "iTr^^ijl^'T'^^ ,^'"^ ''•*^ ««»"*^ my friends to comTandl^T • '^l ■"'^^'^mm in aeking Then, giving ZCiTCcJ^'^V"''''"^ ''*«''>"•" whose time U sopredouel t^t t ^,'*. 7°°. Mr. Barton, ««, g«Te hi* weloom. with • kbowd owdiali^. ft Wf^ «. Kor the Ckmiit«M CmtImU wm i«ideni»blj b««uWul A. .h. .jat^i herwlf by M«. Barton on th, wh, mSS-I' rf tT^."^7.°""' '' ** 0OBf.«dy_ohi,liy on ttVdSS of the tMtaful dre.., the rich tilk of • pinkieh lilw hue tthJ CounteM alway. wore delicate color, in i^ ereninTth" bUck l»ce pelerine, and the black lace veU faUine .7^. h.!* „*TS ».U, cicely braided he«l. P„r mSS^L o^/.^Li^ ?j2.^^r "-y the le« far it, itV., a pretty^l^. Wjio^howniceitwouldbetopnt^"'^;;^^^^^ S^^W '7'*'" '^'°°° •'"^«. forexwnple, wSi- oot which a woman'e dree. wa. nought in tho«. day. Y«. md I, to*., reader, have our weaVnos., have we not wMm! Ue m M exoewiye admuation for «nall hand, and tZ, a iS A^i^^T, CoontCM poewMed, and .he had, moreover a #.•^,1' **■? *'" '°'°*° °° *''» ■<»*» together! The larm fair, mUd-eyed MiUy U timid even in Wendship It i. Tf Z hthe"d^ar':'H°',""' f ~*i-<'^-»'-l> her W i^'f^f The hthe, dark, thin-lipped Countess is racking her m*U ^IndVnT""'* r^" '^•' '"^"•^8 exaggeratfon.. ""^ And how are aU the cherub, at home?" said the Count- eM, stoppmg to pick up Jet. and without waiH for ^^ swer have been kept indoor, by a cold ever s^co Su^d^ orlAouldnot have, .ted without seeing yZ l^tle you done with those wretched singers. Mr Bain?" ^" Oh. we have got a new choir together, which will go on AMOS BAJITOK. H "Very, indeed, " «ud MiUy. ^ "^ Mr. Bndmain studied oonversation M nn .»♦ t i j- . tW. function. Mr. ^fttoX v • ^ ''^ ^ ^"'^ '" politic^ info. .o^^n„*f7u:e^";:^'"°'--^''-"« -up. ^Ae Tp ^a a S"' '^*"«r''" BpoonfulTof Camp \rila, w^o wa?in\h« I\ r';'?""^- ^- Short of .«.£^v^onSrder:r^t;r.V'^ *""""■ theJ::;.S2^±?^s;ar.r'^ '^ "^ ing." naviag only one pomt of meet- " Wdl," continued the Couutes^ "every one aeeme to ,^ 32 8CBNBS OP CLBMOAL LIIE. ' M I, ■: in pvmg the preeedenoe to Mr. Ely. i'w ™v v,•^rt I eannet admire him. Hi» pr««ohing is too cold for me. It has no fervor-no heart. I often say to my brother, it is a great comfort to me that Shepperton Churoh is not too far off for us to go to; don't I, Edmund?" "Yes," answered Mr. Bridmainj "they show us into such a bad pew at MUby—just where there is a draught from that door. I caught a stiff neck the first time I went there. " "Oh, it is the cold in the pulpit that affects me, not the cold m the pew. I was writjng to my friend Lady Porter aua morning, and toUing her aU about my feelings. She and o- iS-,,^ V" *"='' "'»**«"• Slie is most anxious that when Sir WiUiam has an opportunity of giving away the living at their place, Dippley, they should have a thoroughly zealous, clever man there. I have been describing a certain friendTf mine to her, who, I think, would be just to her mind. And there 18 such a pretty rectory, Milly; shouldn't I like to see you the mistress of it?" Milly smiled and blushed slightly. The Bev. Amos blushed very red and gave a litUe embarrassed laugh— he could rarely keep his muscles within the limits of a smile. At thU moment John, the man-servant, approached Mrs Barton with a gravy-tureen, and also with a slight odor of the stable, which usuaUy adhered to him throughout his indoor functions. John was rather nervous ; and the Countess, hap- pening to speak to him at this inopportune moment, the tureen slipped and emptied itself on Mrs. Barton's newly turned black silk. "Oh, horror! Tell Alice to come directly and rub Mrs. Barton s dress," said the Countess to the trembling John, care- fully abstaining from approaching the gravy-sprinkled spot on the floor with her own lUao silk. But Mr. Bridmain, who h.J a strictly private interest in silks, good-naturedly jumped. ""•"i.^, *?? •** ^" °*P^'° ** °'"^ t" ^'- Barton's gown. Milly f.,lt a little inward anguish, but no Ul-temper, and tned to make light of the matter for the sake of John as well f r f'-.u'?' ^°™*«" 'elt inwardly thankful that her own delicate silk had es-aped, but threw out lavish iaterjeotiona of oistress and mdignation. AMOS BARTON. tg "Dear saint that you are," she said, when MiUy laughed, and suggested that, as her silk was not yery glossy to beriu wit^ the dim patch would not be much seen: "you dra't mmd about these things, I know. Just the same sort of thmg happened to me at the Princess Waagstein's one day on a pink satin I was in an agony. Butyou are so indiilM- ent to dress ; and well you may be. It is you who make '""y' "y°" "•'"^d '«t the bottom of the duree a bit, to hold it from slippin' " nJ.'Jlf ^°" ?"f ?y ' " '"turned the cook; a retort which she probably regarded w the light of a reductio ad ab^rdum, and which in fact reduced John to sUenoe. Later on in the evening, while John was removing the tea.- thlT K, "^ *-.u' drawing-room, and brushing the crumbs from the table-cloth with an accompanying hiss, such as he was wont to encourage himself with in rubbing down Mr. Brid- mam's horse, the Eev. Amos Barton drew from his pocket a thm green-covered pamphlet, and, presenting it to theCount- ess, said: '•You were pleased, I think, with my sermon .« soir B^^t i' "I ** ?'■''* °' "i-e" -™ons\:i'^:',^: rrinde^^L^itvoir ^ri'' r"^^/""^ ■^'-^ able to have them Inlh2 «K ^°' •'* '^""''^ '^ "» ^^^ a copy to thX^ of KXrou^r T^"!' ""'^'^ '«"'' Blarney, whom I CwL? u ^ " "^"^ **«" " I^^d special^avoS of h^ and yo" ^.rifkT^- ' "« « he used to say to me T i»n . • ^ ''^* *"««' **^K» write to hi^one of these dLr ""'^ *^' ^'"'P'*'^"" '^ how he ought to dlsDose of f h- ? •^"''°"' "^"^ *«" ''^ ^ ,, gni to mspose of the next vacant living in his thrwt'"us^^^' '^"J:5 ^'"8 -^ ■»"<* ■»"" '"owing dog CouuWsZnScrtlf '^^r" '^ 'J'-'^PP^val of thf dom and ver^ ttTci!!, * T'^*"' ''* ^'^ '<*«« »* 'ri^' offherCSiTht'fitonhfTr'''^'-^"^ the fender, and held f-hr^f^ ^ *^' P'*"*'^ °°« P»w on people ar, who can continue turough many years to m^'JSM^^^WWLiZ 1 WM±^ AMOS BARTON. 86 create mteresting vicissitudes in the game, by taking long- meditated moves with their knights, and subsequently discov- ering that they have thereby exposed their queen. Chess is a sUent game; and the Countess's chat with MUly IS in quite an undertone-probably relating to women's mat- ters that It would be impertinent for us to listen ^o: so we will leave Camp Villa, and proceed to Milby Vicarage, where Mr. Farquhar has sat out two other guests with whom he has been dimng at Mr. Ely's, and is now rather wearying that reverend gentleman by his protracted small-talk. Mr. Ely wa« a taU, dark-haired, distinguished-looking man of three and thirty. By the laity of Milby and its neighbor- hood he was regarded as a man of quite remarkable powers and learnmg, who must make a considerable sensation in Lon- don pulpits and drawing-rooms on his occasional visits to the metropolis; and by his brother clergy he was regarded as a discreet and agreeable fellow. Mr. Ely never got into a warm discussion; he suggested what might be thought, but rarely said what he thought himself; he never let either men <» women see that he was laughing at them, and he never gave any one an opportunity of laughing at him. In one thing only he was injudicious. He parted his dark wavy hair down the middle; and as his head was rather flat than otherwise, that style of coiffure was not advantageous to him. Mr. Farquhar, though not a parishioner of Mr. Ely's, was one of his warmest admirers, and thought he would make an unexoeptionable son-in-law, in spite of his being of no partic- "i"K,i!?'»^-r. ^'- ^"l"!"" "« susceptible on the point 01 wood —his own circulating fluid, which animated a short and somewhat flabby person, being, he considered, of very superior quality. "By the by,» he said, with a certain pomposity counter- acted by a lisp, "what an ath Barton makth of himthelf. about that Bridmain and the Counteth, ath she oallth her- tlieu. After you were gone the other evening, Mithith Far- quhar wath tellmg him the general opinion about them in the neighborhood, and he got quite red and angry. Bleth your tho.iL he bel.eveth the whole thtory about her Polish huth- band and hith wonderful ethoapeth; and ath for har— why US 80BNB8 OF OMrioai, LIFE. ne Uunkth her Derfen««„ -d no end of tK^"* " """^ "^ "»<*kt refined feelii^rtl, ^- Ely smiled « a- — »"™» ton wa.„ot the ^^t S ^7 "^1 "^ <>« tt«nd B«. flattera hun » little, JdT^^„"f"""«'*- P"l«ps the h^ 8hepp«rton Church TverT 8^„h ^ !"*»?«««. She goes to -'.^^i^k rth^tir::'^'--}.- -y-^^> ro„ hav- W eyth about when she Tmtt Sto t"* ^' ^^-thro^Z hZ7 ^"^""^ »'<»ntion i^^JS church, and drething if broker BrMmain, and lookingtf i*^''^"''*'"' "^'d »* he^ thtronger famUy likm«f ). ?r?i • , another brother with . the thubject purpothly. BuH't.^ k ^^ ?"»»''«> hi» on with a pig-headed fellow Se kL ^*' '* ** °^ "» »th^ Sy-' '^ -theiti^'Jje'e ll-^'iZ'Z^, piip'^But'toS^'uCl *° ^>'^-- "^h«t a J^oed Mr. Farq\u.I^r^' *d wlf" .^"' '^^ Bartonth," oon- iere, nnleth theyTi n^ ^^ '^'^^'^ t^uoh people o^. neighborhood y^m^TttT^"^ *» S^£iS a ^ on the very fathe 7it rZ ^T ?«'^' '* l««*th did you find them?" ''^ ""^^^^ »» them, now, how OhJ— Mr. Bridmain striken ™- - who „ making an effort T^eem ZL""^^ '«'' «' -"an, oomes down on one tremLn ^ !"** *°d weU bred S «?8 w certainly a handsome wo^n 1. v "'*• ^he Count- -« a httle too powerful?." S^' ^"^ ?"<» on the grand ftathalwaytnathoftplaooinhith AM08 BARTON. 87 the Btimalus of Mr.^I Wc 1 tio '" " ^ *""""* "°"" «»ompany hu„ home to t^e irex^lnr'^ T '"' "•" mestdo life. exciting atmosphere of do- eni<^-«nt be«au to" e^^d £^""1^? Cr '' °^ '^"'"'^" CHAPTER IV. have been c^nl^Ks^Z ^r.^^f'^'^^ ""^^ ^"^^ »»* far from being mK ^tt^-^""*"*.*" ^"^ *^»* " ^'» very troublesome, ft iZ,^„li"°T'"^- ^'''« distinctions .^ than to discrimiil tTtr"",' *" say that a thing is black, green to .^TTr^ 'S^" tt "" "^r •""«' ^ naie up your mind that vo,,?*^- d " ^ """"^ «"■" *<> than to enter into aJl tt« I? T^^^^ '" «~^ ^"^ ""'Wnft to modify that ojintn ""'"^''^'^ »»>«* would oblige you -^er.^2:"r£«~^^^ and nullified by the deltn ^ ^^ ^. """'^^ overturned Phipps, the banLwr^d Mrs * f ^T^'"'- ^''• ^e, had invested MrtTitK ■'''°'^°^> ^^ attorney's snpi;ositio^^^P'^ Pl*^"' "P^t^tion for acuteness in «ie MiWet, mT» Ph^^, ^r ""^ °°* *^' Countess's brother, not a dis^putebfeXr.? ~P> ^' " *^-^-*«« - ""ting superiority in virtiio tn ol* '' ^^i^ippo, Jiaa no oompen- 88 8CBNB8 OF OLERIOAL UFS. be seen oi, the same le™I^H • Jv ^ '** '"'^ '""^'^ tlien Miss PhipS for W liJVl',T,r'l weU-chosen drapery, had alway, av^d^ ffit^t^; ^'^^ ^"^^^ f°' effect-she lated to /reate a eenSn '^''' ' ""^'^'^ '"^"'^ """ <"^<'"- certain circulars Tnce folded t T f^' u"' "^ ''^'' """l ^ quently given da^cL/t^!! ''^ ''!!: *""' '""'^«' 1"«1 8"bee- BridmLVa^ St^er'irnor\^'tr^*T"!' *'''* ^• who, by unin,peached 1^^^ ^ tdust^ "^Jf-brother, partnership in a silk maruS^^J^ wdustry, had won a fortune, that enabled h^^t^^^' """* "'^^^'^ " ""*i««»t<' tics, th; weather ZitT» T f "' "" '°'' "«"' *° ""dy poU- ^ BndmZ^Z'Zta^l, "^r^-'o^tion a* his leisure, extremefy Til pW^d ^f^;*?«"«™^. bachelor as he was, felt and though hia iin„l w»o , ■ . "" handsome sister, descriptiof indLr-hrwouM^Z T" """-"^ *^'' '"^'<"'* own. He might be «lJhff i^""* ""**""'' *« <"^1 " his the habit orwittC. ''•*''"'/°- "^d then, as is fair Countess-s tonZ W^K """' ""'*" *^'' thong of the that he w^Jd e^er^! m "T «««"'«i "ttle probability heart isano„W^l,JVarsoIr;- ''''^ " •^'"^'-^ take either by storm ofTtoto^' ^T.'""""^ """y ""^ "^^ possibility tut Mr BridS^.'^'^ .^T '^'"v '^'"'^' "^^ fore the^ountesswJ'^„rs^of r si^'Vr *"■ however, he submitted to all Ws sister7«» ' '*'""' grumbled because her dre. a.d ^l ^ZZTL^l gp^^^|IIP|l^» ^^aurga^^W AM08 BARTON. 3g able item beywid her own litUe income of sixty pounds ner annum, and consented to lead with her a migwt^ritfe L personage, on the debatable ground between LstJraly Li" commonalty, instead of settling in some spot where his ^e hundred a year might have won him the d^ite dignity of a parochial magnate. " ' The Countess had her views in choosing a quiet provincial l^:J:^l ^f'; ^"^■' "'""' y^-™ "^ widolhoodn had SI P ?"??' *° ''°°'«»Pl''te giving a successor to her oZ^hr \*'"^''*''"'^^''«"' «'"'"'' "^d romantic fortunes had won her heart ten years ago, when, as pretty Carolme Bndmaan, in the full bloom of five and twenty^ was governess to Lady Porter's daughters, whom he initiated mto the mysteries of the ;,<« de basque, and the Lancet qu^irUles. She had had seven years'of sufficiently UpPT matrmiony with Czerlaski, who had taken her to pLS ^ri^^' ?> '"^'f ""^^ ^«' ^^"'0 to "any of his old friends wrthlarge tit.es and smaU fortunes. So that the fair Caroline thte^rlT. f . «P«™">oe of life, and had gathered therexrom, not uideed, any very ripe and comprehensive wis- dom bj,t much external polish, and certain practical conclu- sions of a very decided kind. One of these Lolusions waS, Tf^fl!^ 7.W ■"'*' "'"'' """^ ^ "f« ''^^ fin« ^l^«kers and a title, and that, in accepting a second husband, she would re- gard these Items as quite subordinate to a carriage and a set- ^T /7'f «.»»-'i'„"=«rtained, by tentatTTe residencet ^tlx r f •'"'" '^^ """ "^^^ *"' ^^ m.thu,g'i^'^^ fxi'ti^r^^J^ ""^« "P ^^ here m very dete.uhU "?"/»>"*>f ?• There ww nothinir vain, a litUe t^tSl a llLr «.fi't "T*^ '"" " «^« frivolous, a little givr^tSe^^^tt'wH'"" '"^'°" ""^ •light bleraisheg, woh mo^ ni^iT'^^v ^'"' ooMider. .uoh for entering inioZel^Z^Z^^'^'^ di-qu.liflo.tion, severest ladies in MUby woulTh! ^ "^'"^^^ ^"'^'^ I'' these characteristT world h.™ ^,^^^7 -warTthat b.tw«« the Counters CzeLtrLr^^eil'''* 'j'*^''*""' was clear there «,«, a wide distL^lT"' ""^ ''°<* '» Po«.es8ion of some \7Ct^Ti°r7^^' " '"'«'* «• *» «»«» ^^ me «oea from which they ^ere undeniably ^Sl^^^^ZTc^^^'r -P-tability refus^i to church-going, and tte deep dS ^" '^'*»°»« P««»ed at the extreme pl^Z^tt''" '"*^° *°^»'« ^ Wednesdays. So she W^fA * , i """Krag^tions on Ash- the advances ot Tn^^Zl^ T '""^ ""^ "''«"^'»'l«ted quainted wXeach others S^tf " " ^r?'" "^ '«" '«'- oumstanoes, yon win ZLIT^ ''"f "• ^""^^ *^«»«> oi^- cr«ienoeand.dm.^l^sl^m^i^;Tth'?''°"'t'^ ""> I^-^*^ ton. She had been esLu^lv t^l?J k""?^- ""^ ^- ^<^ toheri -hefeltsuretTaThe^L™^^,"^,*''; ^^'' '^^^'°' beauty, that he quizzed her 1^ 2 *** '^"'' '*'"* with her horwith.sneer.T^^om^Twir&^r'''?''''^''"'"' powerless, and shuns a ooMy ILJl^ "^'^ "''«' " "'*«rfy « Gorgon. And she w^ especial" ^^^ f "'"* ''""^'^ "^ui and friendrixip, not m!«ly i^^^ J' ^"l "^"""'^ »°«<» epeotable couitenanoe to beTtl^*- '""* '^•' °'™* "" ehe really cared about reljious 2h '°"'^' "*"' '^'"'«' sense that she was nol I'^Xr^"; '^t"'^ '^ --"^ had serious intentions of b«»m1L v ^ * ^''"^'- «>>« "serves-when she had ^^^1^^"':;''"'^°"* ""^ Let us do this one sly trick sf^ m ^T *°** settlement, w. wiU be perfectly W^ U^^S™*" "^ ^«°Ptolem„s, and ^^k^ ^. 4 AKOS BARTOlf. 41 m C«mtM« did not quote Sophoole., but she said to herself- Only this httle bit of preteuoe and Tanity, and then I wiU be }u.ta good, and malce myself quite safe for another world » And as she had by no means such fine taste and insight in theological teaobmg as in costvime, the Bev. Amos Barton seemed to her a man not only of Ieaming-«Ao< is always nn- derstood with a olergyman_but of much power as a spiritual d««tor. As for Milly, the Counte«i reallV loved her a. wril as the preoccupied state of hor affections would allow For you have already perceived that there was one being to whom the Countess was absorbingly devoted, and to whose desires she made eveYthing else subeervient-namely, Caroline Czer- laski, nie Bridmain. Thus there was reaUy not much affectation in her sweet speeches and attentions to Mr. and Mrs. Barton. Still their friendship by no means adequately represented the object she had in view when she came to Milby, and it had been for some time clear to her that she must suggest a new change of residence to her brother. * The thing we look forward to often comes to pass, but never precisely in the way we have imagined to ourselves. The Countess did actually leave Camp Villa before many months were past, but under circumstances which had not at all en- tered into her contemplation. CHAPTER V. Thk Bev. Amos Barton, whose sad fortunes I have under- taken to relate, was, you perceive, in no respect an ideal or exceptional character; and perhaps I am doing a bold thing to bespeak your sympathy on behalf of a man who was so very far from remarkable,— a man whose virtues were not heroic and who had no undetected crime within his breast; who had not the slightest mystery hanging about him, but was palpably Mid unmistakably commonplace; wfej was not even in W but had had that complaint favorably many years ago " An uttMly uninteresting oharaoterl » I think I hear a lady reader rm: mi^ '^rAJf\'-*'aB» SaWM OF CUMOAt un. 'ho i, quit, . "oh,«^:„"" '^^'^ of «,ae p^^JJ; iJutj my dear aadun it < follow-oountoymw, that'J, oJ°fI!''''V«« * ""Jority of your ^t eighty oat of a hunC of , ';»«"'fl«a°t et^" ^"^ nor extraordinarily wicked Tn, ^" "traordinarily aillv ey- .r. neithor d^pZ^'J' ^^ "."^'^inarily wi.ef ^ ^•th snpp^^ Witticism,? tL„: "*'^*"' °°' •pirkUnJ J^tt eaoape. or thrilTng .^^7^"? hadChaTr! wwl/ not pregnant with eenin. ! ^^' **'"■ •'«>n» are oer- ma^ifested themaelvrat'T^fter'th^i' ?""'""" '"f^« "" They are simply men of oomriMLn^" "^'"^ "^ • viloano. whoee <»nyer8ationiemoreT]l?K u"'"';!' " '«« """ddy, these commonplace people-lrJ ^^"^ ""^ disjointed. VeJ •pathos in their veryS^' J^"" ^V, i. there n« o!XtT"''""~'«"ten*^iX^eV"' '^"'P""'*'' o* i-nSrto''«,^°,:rStr "-''P«^'"'lyifyo„.o„,, tragedy and the c^e^^yj *S T^ '^^ "^^ P««>« ^ soul that looks oat through d,fn "Po^ence of a humw a voice of quite ordS^"lts T^'T' »°'^ "«* "P^ak^ nofearofyournotcariZtoWw). w* "f^'^o^om have Amos Barton, or of yow «,i?r i * f"*^" '^f"" the Key to tell at all beneath y^J^Jl* '^^T'^r details I h^ve Pleaae, decline to purCmy^ ' ,' J' '' ■"' y°» "an, if y^ find reading moretoZ^llZl^'V '^'^ ^^n '»! eas^y papers that many remarLlhr' T ^ '*'*' f«"n the news- ^ona, a^!ilinginL"n^t?e,S^"H°' f'-^''^ '^^■ only within the last season ^ ' '^''»8. have appeared ' and his wife will be glad to learn that AMOS BARTON. 43 Mr. Oldinport lant the twenty poandi But tw«,». ~, j new greatcoat. And though Mr. Bridn.«^ X^:;!*;^ Di»0K «ilk, gtiff, ae hia experienced eye diaoenieH .ifk ,1 thejaccdent toat had occurred at his tawT^'.^^d^ "e L Me elderly lady's patience and maenanimihr nr u I ? suppose S'alTL.SlZty'^n'K^kr.r ""^ T feS ft Ir; . r- ''^'"^ ""■"*« ^«' "P" look ^e. and .^l ioug to M Kkrim Ti,*^* Shepperton doctor so obnox- 08 to M . PJgnm, ordered her to drink port-wine, and it nj»iV 44 •OWM OF CUBICAL UH. P^« Md feeble in tt°^l *^,kT'»" "" ''"^^ •**»«« th. pinafore that U, ^^, itT^' .T J^"*'*'* *»-'«« • boiaterou, boy oi fiTe. witt t ' t"; ^'*"' »<*•/ brtween hi. littl. red Uaok-n.iW fi'^^'i" ""* ''"" •>•"<» Mr.. H«oki(i in . Mv3 xnZ hf?**' "" **• • bo^ whom word that etyn-ologioul;^ Spimr""*" """"ky" (a Inaion to an inrtrumentof puni.hm^f * ^v' ~'""y» »°"» •'■ •^i^ghin. thu, .ubdued „to g^^:^ '1""" refractory). h„t W kindest .mil,, and. .^.d^ThT' ''"""»'«<»»» Wm with . W Which Dictey r; "".t at «^yo„ki«i„rmy ^d?i;r;r" ■"'' """^»'^= -^y dozen of port-wine ^*d Clpl J^ /~f "^ *°J°»«»^ J^' • too. waa very kind, insiZZ M^^t^i'- "^^ ^'^'1'^". a for* "i, ' carried away -iMeandothw AMOS BARTON. 4^ omtes. " °" "**"° » <»rt«i" oharity for the relief of needy we^'rj^ikTly"^ h."ve**r'*!^ "'•'"""^' ^^^ P«-Hioner. ne^led their mS"/ ^ "'^Z T" ^"' "'• «'"»y""° •id-not the CVtato n^tS- ""y "••^•'' ^is spiritual Th h'*' '"f '''•' '° "•"**"8 »>" "ow^t MX^an^'.iti! with her for houre tomthar Tf ^._ """7. sna unmg vague consciousness that he had risen tf/. .°''. ^f* " !». to (h. am i,„ „„ M„|,,, „j^ ^^ ^1^^ J^™ ^.^ *1^ 48 80BKB8 OF OLEBICAL LIFE. hMb«,d: "That poor thing', dreadful weak an' dilioate- she won't Stan' havin' many more ohUdren " '"^«»'», bm titT' ^^; '°'^r^!L?'^ '^ indefatigable in hia rooa- daT at ft! tatr^*^ ^ extemporary sermons every 8^- d,V^n« ^- T^ ''^^"' * ""^ ^ ^^ fitted up for waUied the same evening to a cottage at one or other extreX 1 1 .^"'\*° ^"^"^ another sermon, still moreext^™^ ration. After all these labfts you will easily conceive twT. ZZt^Z:'^'^ '''"^■^' nin'eTcSt*tJ evening, and that a Supper at a friendly parishione-'s with . wZ; °'''^««/''»8l'«»es, of brandy-and-CterXVwMa welcome re-enforcement. Mr. Bartmi was not af tii . !? Om'SSI*': r^'** »' ^-'-^^ertfr^lyt'JiTti 2 fh??r'°* ^P«'V»'>°"i ""^ '"^ fond of relaxing htasdf with a htUe gossipi indeed. Miss Bond, and other E of enthusiastic views, sometimes regretted that MrBa^n dS toe flesh, l-hin ladies, who take litUe exercise, and whose livM. are not strong enough to bear stimulants, are soTxfa-™.?^ ontical about one's personal habitsi An^^f^" "Zl^J Amos never oame near the borders of a vi,L.. HU vert fa^^ were middli„g-_he was not very ungrammatioiS^ It wal 2 in his nature to be superlative in anythine • unless iJZ, k Sn^'r^"'''"^* ^''-J-^tlaTex^St'ei- TJZT to be excessive, it was confidence in his own v^ ft^r, "?** "^^^ ^ P~"*'«^ °"'tt«™. ■» that he ™ very full of plans which were something like his n,^«T ^..-admirably well calcuUted, supposLg t^e ir Jth" case were otherwise. For example, thVt notable plan of Tnl^! ducmg anti-Dissenting books into his landing Libr^lid ^ m ^e least appear to have bruised the head of Dis.^ tTough U had certamly made Dissent strongly inclined to bi'to the Bev Amos's heel. Again, he vexed L souls of hisZrS Z. .'"'1"'*""°**'^ parishioners by his fertile s^eZe- of the church repairs, and other eoolesiasUoal secularitir '^"^ mM:^rww -r • .3P • ^ AMOB BARTON. 47 I nevet mw the like to parsons," Mr. Hackit said one day in conversation with hU brother church-warden, Air. Bond; they're al'ys for meddling with business, and they know no more about it than my black filly." "Ah," said Mr. Bond, "they're too high learnt to have moon common sense." "Well," rpmarked Mr. Hackit, in a modest and dubious l*.*^. „*^''^* °°* * hypothesis which might be consid- ered bold, "I should say that's a bad sort of eddioation as makes folks unreasonable." So that, you perceive, Mr. Barton's popularity was in that precmous condition, in that toppling and contingent state, in which a very sUght push from a malignant destiny would ut- terly upset it. That push was not long in being given, as you shall hear. ' One fine May morning, when Amos was out on his parochial visits, and the sunlight was streaming through the bow-win- dow of the sitting-room, where Milly was seated at her sewine occasionally looking up to glance at the children playing S the garden, there came a loud rap at the door, which she at once recognized as the Countess's, and that weU-dressed lady presently entered the sitting-room, with her veU drawn over her face. MiUy was not at aU surprised or sorry to see her: but when the Countess threw up her veU and showed that her '^f^"" "^ ""^ swollen, she was both surprised and sorry What can be the matter, dear Caroline? " Caroline threw down Jet, who gave a little yelp; then she threw her arms round Milly's neck and began to sob; then she ttrew herself on the sofa, and begged for a glass of water: tten she threw off her bonnet and shawl; and by the time Milly s imagination had exhausted itself in conjuring up calam- ities, she said : •< o r "Dear, how shaU I tell you? I am the most wretehed woman. To be deceived by a, brother to whom I have been so devoted—to see him degrading himself —giving himself utterly tothedogsl" ' "What can it be? " said Milly, who began to picture to her- self the sober Mr. Bridmain taking to brandy and beU 'He mg. going to be married— to marry my own maid, that ^"■•ifc. ■^-. , ! rfl 4g soiaras or otBHioAr, Lira. tifying? so disreputables '• ' ' *" '^8»«>ful? so mor- life, avoided a direct Ms^r ""^ •^*° ^ ^^ ^'x^t wJlt^^r'diL'^itddZ'^'fr*"'^''*^''*- 1 he.-^isg„etingat'^?sZ:oSri^.rit?lJ''"K'^^ proved her for allowing such libertL ,h- IT^^ "''" ^ «•■ oly, and said she wag enea«d to hi ,1. • ^^ ~"»<' »»- and she saw no shamTi^ S^iJ! v f^"** '^ "^ "»»*». " a miserable oo^l To^Z^\^T^ \^T ^*'- .^»»«d when she asked hin. toC whe«,rft i~''"* «8hteied; but Bummon up courage ^tLylT i\T,J"^ *»' ^^ ««! to and this morning I have l^n !. ^ ^ *''* "<"» "» disgust, tbat he is bent on mi^Sis' w^^r""* ^'^^' "^^ putting off telling me!^b^„t J? ' T** '^* ^^ "«" •*«» •uppose. Xcouldn'tpo.SXi^l!?'^*^ °' "^^"o^ I my own maid turned mista^s An/ T "^'this, with to throw myself on yo^^L w^ T' ^'' ^ '^ «<»»« take me in? » ' """^ *°' » ^««k or two. JF«i you <^''^Zlf'LTLf^\2"'\7^ <»lyput«pwith We you I " ^ °' ''^«- " will be delightful to whuJ IXuitTLlbS ;:*^r -' ^- «"*»" « «*"• at pre«,nt. Wh^TZ^L^ 51^°^ "^ °*^" «»<»» J-^-t 1-ow-leave the ne^rCd I? ™^ T^^ "^ ^ ^ •^""'t boxes, which she had c^fSv niv I ^cmntess's formidable drove her away trZ^^lT^^^^^J'^i-im^tion were deposited in the s^ bed»„r^ 1 '* *^ "^"""^ and opare, whi.h Milly empt^fSTSS^re^^ "' *^°. "'°**^ »»* ^raf/risI:r=S?^^^^ - again to 1^, an7£^,a--trpS^: ■mmWmm AH08 BARTON. 49 gether with the Couatess Czerlaski's ini.t.li.K„ at Shepperton Vicarace. he«Im» . * • "/taUation as a vuitor in the neighbor^ Th!T ^ °* «*°'"^ conversation Sheppe^f„;S,tI\«^r-»8^*«l,Ttue of MUby and b.^^^tris^r^iTd*;^^^^^ p;ig""rs::*i^rrthrinS^r= portion of Mrs. Barton's tim« .!^^ 'J^ "^''° * ^^^e pro- a very evU k^Z^add^to at IT"^"' ""^ """""^^ °' book stm wor«i"l^ "X, T " •"■*'™^«<^ "^"l "-y note- ton waa the victim. I oan^/aS^Ji^'^j^"' »■"- npset vour ink-hnttlo ..,-1 /."r^y/^^o^r,— did you ever spread^ o" stS^^bl^".^. "" ^''^'T- •^''^' *^« "?•<» &irertable-3r With^t • v ^°"J^ manuscript or blacken the^TOtatior^thf^L ^a"^*^*'"'"** S"""? ""'^ around him. *" "** thiokenug CHAPTEB VI. CoS^lss'^cL'SirSnSn^r 7 ""'"'"^ *««' «"» ingl/, about daven o'clock. ^, put on her v^t bonTr^d M scwnss OF oMRiCAi, unt. 7«»U7 to aooommodate h«^^ . 'vn''* ''" "°* • woman ance with her cost^rfor aT shr^L''^J*"*»'»"y » """O"!- fields to Cross Para. L vdW 7 ^* ''*' ""^ «^""«h the which showed brigh liSul.T'' T^ hedgo-girt eC; pie clouds, were l»in» . S. ? '^"'*' <*« W-hau«inB nurl coldest Of KoZ.wl^r™« XrS^'' ^ ^'^^VZ herse f, "I dare say we shl^l iat^a J^' ^^^' ^""^^^ ^ and >f we do, I sht^lda't wondw !nf 1^^ *"?* *^ ''^to^. They say a green Ynle nak^ J &f «. .'" 5" °''' '"^^ «« white Tuie too, for Ct ml, ^^fT^' bntsod^a enough, no matter stts^**lj';, ^"^ *^« -t^l'" rotten M»;satse ragin^^-. .?« ^-^ - -^nr^SeX^™^^^^ any prelinunary ann^'^l^f ^^' •?^}^^'^> without Janet had scarcely reaohSl^J^' °'^ ''^y'" «»<»«»">. rative how the at^kC^ ™ . °/ ^f '"* oiroumstantial nar- aat.WH.narrairto'::^ i^^^^^ aunt's een- mghtoap, seemed to listen ^tt a conw' f ^"'"**'y Plaited her niece's historical ina^^y „rt!^^.P*"r ««ignation to BJonaUy confounding Jan^^^'jn *J"« ^^"^^ ''^'h ocoa- oh.tter of a horse'f S Z tbftd' *'' ''*'"'-"^«'' «"• the arnva! of Mr. Pilgrim wW-T Pavement announced presently ^ade its apSnl ™^^ top-booted person Patten going on so wT^Z, ^**^- ^« found Mrs. «nm. He might ^lidefr^'J^!,"/'" "° "'^-i *» 1°°^ »^- offence, and the tem^ti"",T'^?''"'~ ^*" ««»'? without ■rresistible. "Ptation of havmg Mrs. Haokit's ear was pa-'^v itr^^^-i^^^' *--> - <" -- with which he made this agreeable mm..t AM08 BARTOK. n faMMtion, throwing himself back in the chair from which he had been leaning toward the patient I.2tf^,T'J ''"^^"• ^~"*' "<«»8™«>f»l enough, but I can't countenance such go aga^n. If. hateful tow^ i Hrir.~°!:°r'*5 '""" *° ""-" °* » Sunday, Li? Mr. Haokit wasn't church-warden and I didn't think it wrona to forsake one's own parish, I should go tTKuX ChS* There's a many parish'ners as do." ' vuuron. " I used to think Barton was only a fooL " observed Mr Pil- been weakly ohantable. "I thought he was imposed unon ax.d ed away by those people when they first ^. Xt that's impossible now." TT.'l?^; "'* ? P^^ as the nose in your face," said Mrs Hackit, unreflectingly, not perceiving the equiioque in hei bough as I may say, with her brother, as she calW him- and ^en all on a sudden the brother goes 'oS with him^lJ^'dS ttrows herself on the Bartons. Though what could ma^e her take up with a poor notomise of a parson, as hasn't got enough to keep wife and children, there's One above knowsli don"t " ISx Barton may have attractions we don't know of," said lie Countess has no maid now, and they say Mr. Barton is n«.. ni ^ . fiddled » said Mrs. Hackit, with indignant bold- ness of metaphor; "an' there's that poor thing a-wwin«her fir sers to the bone for them childreni^' another 3 tZ mat she must have to go through! It goes to my heart to turn my back on her. But she's i' the wrong to let her^f to put upon i' that manner." H '''^''i/ "'^^'^f* *o Mrs. Farquhar about that the other day. She said, 'I think Mrs. Barton a v-e-r-y w-e-a k emphasis, as if he thought Mrs. Farquhar had uttered a Z markable senhment.) " They find it impossible to invito h™r to their house while she has that equivocal person staying witt >^'ll ea somras OF olmioai, lbx ■•M «Ud.' taJJr ^ J^^ S; ■■«*". torn 1„ paw, ffloneyfroffl some oWcW^'^^'^ »» !>«'» been havin- •*"ff«d Mr. Barton ^!jr^- ^W e«d at fust a. X B«rtat'» &^ Mv He seems to me to l«k dJZ^^ " ''''*«™'^ ^ Wmself Sanday." *° '""^ dr«idfm thin an' hanj^, WW nH^r" ,t'^^*^« -*» '^•l o-ior ever,. «7 Carpe wouldTgtdt IT?**^ "'"' '^ f""/ TW couldi but he can'tTlftfC^T "'"''"'"^^^^ W.«, M Barton's a licZedT^^.'»r»* to Shepperton Mat, I suppose." curate, and he wouldn't like At this moment Mm !>.«. ''Woh recaUed Mr HI^T™^" '^"^ "Snsof uneasine«, Mrs. Haoki„ ob^^"^ j^/'<*-Bional attentio^S ""Hi after the butter, sJdXl bv „ •"'*'y' ""^ •!"» «"J«t "^^-n^d bring her' knittff ^^' P""""'"-? t" ^ » agj <» which arc1eriSltLto,!?if.*fr*^*''''"'«'tt-theday -the Rev. Amos B^*^"^ "* M^by Vicarage; S r^ ^<«7likely beasuMMtof!^. "? *°' ""t atten^g, he b-thren. Sn^e weCtSlralrht"" r ?^«* "-'«ri-" h« reported their opinio^ ™' W whether Mr. Pilgrf, ;oal discussions, which a^ tteteiw '"«*'"'^ '^'^ theolo^f tave to the Epistle of Jude has nttM "^^ * ^"'«ti°° '«!»- "tr.fangcfsi.bytheohu^h o^t ST*""r^»P' «"• ^ and the suaultaneous an- AMOB BABTOir. 08 »o»n^«t of dinner, are «.„„d. that no one feel, to be im- «,Ii!^i' ^J^^ °"* " '"'* ^ ""« '•«*» Mious) to enter a glow with the double light of fire and candle, where slaw and t^.rJTl^r *"" T" '^--l.ld al^trl' SnnH^ti^ V ^^'^<"> <*«' 'ill presently rush out to mundato your hungry senses, and prepare them, by the de " ^tl^rr °^ f*"""^ *" «"> '««" ^"to 0* ampler ,»^U^t! ^peoiaUy if you have confidence in the dinner-gi4ig oaS rf your hos(^if you know that he is not a man who fnteH grovelhng views of eating and drinking as a mere satisSn the S*"" ""r*'."''' ^""^ *° »" *^« fi»" influences o? ae palate expects hu guests to be brilliant on Ul-flavored gravies and the cheapest Marsala. Mr. Ely was partic,^^^ £o^l^h^'^rJ^^**^ ^"•** *» """* <" '^»« oentrr^c v2 ^^^ ^ ^^^ '"'''"*'°° °' ''^ l'°"«'' -« '^ «l«™al rend^. voos. He looks particularly graceful at the head of his table m,^ ""f"^ on all occasions where he acts TplsMe^ oJ «™r^'-' ^? "■ " ""^ ''^'' '«^'^« *° J"t«" well, aid U ^ excellent amalgam of dissimilar ingrediento. '""""«» At the other end of the table, as " Vice," sits Mr. Fellowes. «ctor and magistrate, a man of imposing appear^i S^» mellifluous voice and the readiest of tonguMnUr PeUowe^ T^'n^t ""«/"«•«=? w^tt which he interpreted the o^ion^ eLaeL^ stanimering baronet, so as to give that elderly g«aUeman a very pleasmg perception of his owi wisdom. Mr Fellowes is a very successful man. and has the highest charac- ter everywhere except in his own parish, where. doubU^sX cause his parishion^s happen to be quarreh^nne peoprLl. always at fierce feud with a farmer or two, a col^ Jojrie tor, a grocer who was once ohuroh-warden, and a^^r who formerly officiated as clerk. At Mr. Ely's right hand you see a very small man with a ^ow and somewhat puffy face, whose ha^isbrusheTsSht up, evidently with tne intention of giving him a heightlcSe- what less disproportionate to his sense of hi. own iipo^^ • ^rW/r SOBNM OF CLBRIOAL UFS. ■' I d mankind and their proroec^ TnH *T^? ^v Kl<»«niert riew of the " Piokwiok Pai^^yt^^^ *^' ^* ^""»»«« Ml. of eat proof, of oriS'.in n ^^TP''**'' ""' «" «"« 't^-XI- wae'not burdenT^r, faSJ'S^t^l ""'"«'' ^^'^ ^^ apt oonaiderably to exceed rS^„" Sr'^f """ '"" oumatanoea remiltine from rtT. * '.^ ^" ""P'«"«»"t oir- bwakfarts, n,.y prSSiblXv!?^ !l?u*^" '''^ ''«»'y a««t- view, of the wortteii;'' °°°*"''"'«» *« ^a deajHrnding ti«>ly owing to rfai^tM""^'"' »* Cambrid^ en- ward publifhed a ZZ: :t 'C ^Z^' '" *«" '^- remarkably beautiful bvm«nJij^^' 7 * *•"* oonaidered Mr. I^e^apre^Sis „^^^rr^8l'«l'«'^* °* «« ^^^ sur- i- uer a (Uaoulty, aa a monitor who ie encouraging .tk « AKOB BARTON. M »Ui« than MYere. Mr. Olere. ha. the wonderful art of preaching sermon, which the wheel'-right and the blaokemith Min understand; not because he talks condescending twaddl^ but because he can caU a spade a spade, and knows how to diMncumber ideui of their wordy frippery. Look at him more ^^U:^ ^°" '"' "* *^»* ^^ '•"• " • ^'T interesting one-that there is a great deal of humor and feeling laying in his gray eyes and about the comers of his roughly out mouth- -a man, you obeerre, who has most likely sprung from the harder-working «K!tion of the middle class, and has hereditary .ympathies with the checkered life of the people. He g^ together the working men in his parish on Monday evenSg, «id gives them a sort; of conrersational lecture on Meful prac- taoal matters, telling them stories, or reading some «leot P>«»age8 from an agreeable book, and oommentmg on them, and a you were to ask the first laborer or artisan in Tripple- gate what sort of man the parson was, he would say "A T^'^^^J^'"'^''.."^^'^ free-spoken genUemanf very tZ^^ PX-d-natur'd too." Yet for aU this, he is p^rhaM the best Greoiaji of the party, if we except Mr. B^ the young man on his left. -~"u, ''J«°'» by the possession of some potato-ground. The two young curatM talked a Uttle Mm 80JJHB8 0» OLIBIOAL UWM. Wing uw,"!:^ oT^ii S?in:''* •»»*«•**%, did fann-bmldinZi '/^ "** **^* ^^ «"d ,uoh .plea- for hUok oatUe. and W«^. Ik .5' ."* J"* « gw>«t whim buy th«e heart. » ^ ' ' ^^ '""<>'«»• in hi. pocket to thu «giy aJSi'-^-^;;;?-! to i,^ ^^^ ing." ^"" ^*** '' *hy Sargent got the liy "Sargent," said Mr. Ely "T fc„«_ u- •howy, talkatiTe feUo*, £i writL^! ,^V"- I""'* he a or MmetUng of that .ort? » ^^ *" Mewpotamia, "That's the man." JS:;Tth«!2'Ss^.rs^^^-'» •>«.*«. He flirtation, I thint^ ^ ^°°*'' *"°" '»"«J»1 about a the other day th.t\ dL^e wiS^t^ V". **"^« ""> whjle Mr.. Bart™. « i. the kiS::iJ^:3^^-^wsg^^% AMOS BARTOK. tJ "Well," ••id Mr. Fallowai, fllliog Ua bUm tnd kokin. aDM, or b. hM KMne ouMing •«»et-«>ii., philter or other to makehimielfohMmuigintheveeof.fairWy. Iti«'tJl oM» thU ott n..ke oooqaew, wh«i our ngli^eM i. put it. " The ladj seemed to htve made a conqaeit of him at the ZtT(t^w 1" '?^- "''" '~«»7 amuaeS o^ night at OrMby', when he wa. telling u. her .ioiy about her ??^ i* 'tT^'T H« •**<»= * ^» she told me the tale. I felt I don't know how._I felt it from the crown of mv h.^ to the aole of my feet. ' " ' ^^ Mr. Ely gave theae words dramatically, imitating the Eer «Tm at •"rry to leave the poor thing " .J«'vf^°uf fV7 ^° ^ *^ '""> "^^ «^'' down to a .ep. arate breakfast at eleven, she kindly consented to dine as early a. five, when a hot joint was prepared, which coldly fumiriwd 60 SOBNES or CUtWOAL UFB. Hi C^i^^J demoting herself too closely to the chUdJen, l^ insisting on reading, talking, and walking with her; and ■he even began to embroider a cap for the next baby whkh must certainly be a girl, and be nmed Caroline tht^l ^ *"' T*^ " t^" of her residence at the vicarage the Rev A^os Barton became aware-as, indeed, it was un- avoidable that he sho«ld-of the strong diipprbationTt dZ upm him, and the change of feeling toward him whiu t wm drK^I-" ^^ .'^f'"* I«ri«W°ne' But, in the first pW he still iM. leved in the Countess as . charming and.influentiS him and hi«j^ and who might any day spontaneously announ^ soious of his own innocence, and felt some contemptuous indig- nation toward people who were ready to imagine evU of hi^. and lastly, he had. as I have already intin^l^, Tstr^ng^u t ^ Ti.*" ""* " •*'**^ "^^"^ and defiance mLC Itself with his other feelings on the subject. ^ The one unpleasant consequence which was not to be evaded » oounte^ted by any mere ment^ state, was the ^cSJ drain ^ his slender purse for household expenses, to^ ttreatened to be quite madequate. Slander may be defeat^ ^ eqn«Bmiity; but courageous thoughts will not pay jZ for berf. Month after month the financial aspect of the Bev Amos s affairs became more and more serious to him, and Zn?,f''„°""'^ *~'' """ '""y "«•" ««» more of that ^L^ >°^8»ata» and defiance with which he had at first rSdl-r^^ '"^ "^^ "^ '«"" "' *^ ^^ -" once Bnt quite the heaviest pressure of the trouble fell on Millv -on gentle, uncomplaining Milly-whose delicate body was S^r^T^ ^- •"• *' *" "^^ '^« ""^y ''^K* that had to be done between nsmg up and lying down. At first, she thought the Countess's visit would not last long, and «hfi was quite glad to incur extra exertion for the sake of making her friend AHOB BARTON. 61 eomfortabla. I oan hardly bear to think of idl the rough work die did with those lovely hande— «U by the sly, without let- ting her husband know anything about it, and husbands are not clairvoyant : how she salted bacon, ironed shirts and cra- vats, put patches on patches, and re-damed dams. Then there was the task of mending and eking out baby-linen in prospect, and the problem perpetually suggesting itself, how she and Nanny shmdd manage when there was another baby, as there would be before very many months were past. When time glided on and the Countess's visit did not end JliUy was not blind to any phase of their position. She knew of the slander; she was aware of the keeping aloof of old friends; but these she felt almost entirely on her husband's account, A loving woman's world lies within the four walls of her own home; and it is only through her husband that she 18 in any electric communication with the world beyond. Mrs Simpkins may have looked scornfully at her, but baby crows and holds out his little arms none the less blithely; Mrs Tomkins may have left off calling on her, but her husband comes home none the less to receive her care and caresses; it has been wet and gloomy out of doors to-day, but she has looked well after the shirt buttons, has cut out baby's pina- fores, and half finished Willy's blouse. So it was with MiUy. She was only vexed that her hus- bsnd should be vexed— only wounded because he was miscon- ceived. But the difficulty about ways and means she felt in quite a difterent manner. Her rectitude was alarmed lest they should have to make tradesmen wait for their money; her motherly love dreaded the diminution of comforts for the ohU- dren ; and the sense of her own failing health gave exaggerated force to these fears. Milly could no longer shut her eyes to the fact that the Oonntess was inconsiderate, if she did not allow herself to en- tertain severer thoughU; and she began to feel that it would sojm be a duly to tell her frankly that they reaUy could not afford to have her visit further prolonged. But a process was going forward in two other minds, which ultimately saved Milly from having to perform this painful task. In the first place, the Countess was getting weary of Shep- -u :a -m Mm 62 80EHX8 OF OLEBICAI, UTt. perton—weaiy of waiting for her brother'* OTerture* which never came; go> one fine morning, she reflected that forgive- ?w J*'^" ChrUtian duty, that a .ister should be placable, that Mr. Bridmain must feel the need of her advice, to which he had been accustomed for three years, and that very likely that woman" didn't make the poor man happy. In this amiable frame of mind she wrote a very affectionate appeal, and addressed it to Mr. Bridmain, through his banker Another mind that was being wrought up to a diiiai was Nanny's, the maid-of-all-work, who had a warm heart and a stiU wanner temper. Nanny adored her mistress: she had been heard to say that she was "ready to kiss ffie ground as a.e musu trod on"; and Walter, she considered, was her baby, of whom she was as jealous as a lover. But she had, from the firs^ very sU„ht admiration for the Countess Cz^ laski. That lady, from Nanny's poi-t of view, was a per- sonage always "drawed out i' fine clothes," the chief result of whose existence was to cause additional bed-making, carrvine of hot water, laying of table-cloths, and cooking of dinners It was a perpetually heightening " aggravation " to Nanny that she and her mistress had to " slave " more than ever, because there was this fine lady in the house. "An' she pays nothin' for't neither," observed Nanny to Ui. Jacob Tomms, a young gentleman in the tailoring line, who oocasioually— simply out of a taste for dialogs wlooked into the vicarage latchen of an evening. « I know the mas- ter's shorter o' money than iver, an' it meks no end o' differ- ence 1 th' housekeepin'-her bein' here, besides bein' obliged to have a charwoman constant." "There's fine stories i' the vUlage about her," said Mr Tonuns. " They say as Muster Barton's great wi' her, or els^ she'd niver stop here." " Then they say a passill o' lies, an' you ought to be ashamed to go an' tell 'em o'er again. Do you think as the master, as has got a wife like the missis, 'ud go running arter a stuok-up piece o' goods like that Countess, as isn't fit to black the missis's shoes? I'm none so fond o' the master, but I know better on him nor that. " " WeU, I didn't b'Ueve it," said Mr. Tomms, humbly. :l/^r AHOS BARTON. «8 " B'liere it? you'd ha' been a ninny if yer did. An' she's a narty, stingy thing, that Countess. She's niver giv' me a sixpence nor an old rag neither, sin' here she's been. A-lyiu' abed an' a-oomin' down to breakfast when other follu wants their dinner I " If such was the state of Nanny's mind as early as the end of August, when this dialogue with Mr. Tomms occurred yon may imagine what it must have been by the beginning of No- vember, and that at that time a very slight spark might any day cause the long-smouldering anger to flame forth in open indignation. ^^ That spark happened to fall the very morning that Mrs Hackit paid the visit to Mrs. Patten, recorded in the last chapter. Nanny's dislike of the Countess extended to the uinocent dog Jet, whom she "couldn't a-bear to see made a fuss wi' like a Christum. An' the UttJe ouzel must be washed, too, iveiy Saturday, as if there wasn't children enoo to wash, wi'out washin' dogs." Now this partioohir morning it happened that Milly was quite too poorly to get up, and Mr. Barton observed to Nanny on going out, that he would call and teU Mr. Brand to come! These circumstances were already enough to make Nanny anx- ious and susceptible. But the Countess, comfortably ignorant of them, came down as usual about eleven o'clock to her sep- arate breakfast, which stood ready for her at that hour in the parlor; the kettle singing on the hob that she might make her own tea. There was a little jug of cream, taken according to custom from last night's milk, and specially saved for the Countess's breakfast Jet always awaited his mistrsss at her bedroom door, and it was her habit to cany him downstairs. " Now, my little Jet," she said, putting him down gently on the hearth-rug, "you shall have a nice, nice breakfast." Jet indicated that he thought that observation extremely pertinent and well timed by immediately raising himself on his hind legs, and the Countess emptied the cream-jug into the saucer. Now there was usually a small jug of ir ilk stand- ing on the tray by the side of the cream, and destined for .Tftt'g breakfast ; but this motning Nanny, being ■■m'jithered," had forgotten that part of the arrangements!, so that when the 64 8CENBB OP OLBMOAL UFB. .i &)TuiteM had made her tea, she perceived there wa. no .eoond jug, and ran? the beU. Nanny appeared, looking very red S"!^-^"'* *""* '^' «*• l«db^ "doinf n^ t^ btdien flr^ «d that i. a «« of work which bfno n.e«^ conduces to blandness of temper. "Nanny, you have forgotten Jet's milkj wiU you brino me some more oieam, please? " j a ""• This was just a Uttle too much for Nanny's forbearance. ^^, ^r",?*y- ^"« I am wi' my hands full o' the ohil- ^-wn an the dinner, and missis ill abed, and Mr. Brand a-comin'; and I must run o'er the Tillage to get more cream, cause you've give it to that nasty little blackamoor. " "Is Mrs. Barton ill?"' sh«'^Vif ?~.^ ^"If ^^\ ■*• " '"• ■"•» ■»"<"> y<^ o«o. •I! ^."'7,.*° ^ '"' '"™'»»«8d as .he is from momin' to night, wi' folks as had better be elsewhere." " What do yon mean by behaving in this way? " J'^^^'J*?^' ^f^." **^ ™"« " a-stavin'her life out an a^iittm' up o' nights, for folks as are better able to wait of W, I'stid o' lyin' abed an' doin' nothin' aU the blessed day, but mek work." " Leave the room and don't be insolent." "Insolent! I'd better be insolent than like what some folks {"Tfu ^ °° 1!*" *°^^'' "■' ''™8*"' a bad name on 'em into the bargam." Here Nanny flung out of the room, leaving the lady to digest this unexpected breakfast at her leisure. "•'««"' The Countess was stunned for a few minutes, but when ebe DegMi to recaU Nanny's words, there was no possibiUty of avoiding very unpleasant conclusions from them, or of faUins to see her position at the vicarage in an entirely new light The interpretation, too, of Nanny's allusion to a "bad name" did not he out of the reach of the Countess's imagination, and she saw the necessity of quitting Shepperton without delay. r^f ^ 5*^^ *^ '"""^ " *° ^""-"^ »»"<». «te would go at onte to London, inquire her brother's address at hU banker s, and go to see him without preliminary. She went up to Milly's room, snd, aftsr kisses and inquiries, AH08 BA.BTON. 80 Mid: "I find, on oonsiderstion, dear Milly, from the letter I had yesterday, that I must bid you good-by and go up to Lon- don at onoe. But you must not let me leave you ill, you naughty thing." " Oh, no," said Milly, who felt as if a load had been taken off her back, " I shall be very weD in an hour or two. Indeed, I'm muoh better now. You will want me to help you to pack. But you won't go for two or three days'/ " " Tes, I must go to-morrow. But I shall not let you help me to pack, so don't entertain any unreasonable projects, but lie still. Mr. Brand is coming, Nanny says." The news was not an unpleasant surprise to Mr. Barton when he came home, though he was able to express more re- gret at the idea of parting than Milly could snmmon to her lips. He retained more of his original feeling for the Count- ess than Milly did, for women never betray themselves to men as they do to each other; and the Be v. Amos had not a keen instinct for character. But he felt that he was being relieved from a difficulty, and in the way that was easiest for him. Neither he nor Milly suspected that it was Nanny who had cut the knot fo" them, for the Countess took oare to give no sign on that s jeot. As for Nanny, she was perfectly aware of the relation between cause and efEeot in the affair, and secretly chuckled over her outburst of " sauce " as the beat morning's work she had ever done. So, on Friday morning, a fly was seen standing at the Vicar- age gate with tke Countess's boxes packed upon it; and pres- ently that lady herself was seen getting into the vehicle. After a last shake of the hand to Mr. Barton, and last kisses to Milly and the children, the door was closed; and as the fly rolled off, the little party at the Vicarage gate caught a last glimpse of the handsome Countess leaning and waving kisses from the carriage window. Jet's little black phiz was also seen, and doubtless he had his thoughts and feelings on the occasion, but he kept them strictly within his own bosom. The schoolmistress opposite witnessed this departure, and lost no time in telling it to the schoolmaster, who again com- municated the news to the landlord of "The Jolly Colliers," at the dose of the morning school-hours. Namty poured the " SCENES OP OMBIOAL LIFE. of her prese^o! ^d ,^1 'did^J :ir''^°* con^Hjuenoe w the parishionerT whioh^nM ^ r*'^'"""' *°'^ alienation fact of w7^^''^'i~^t °? '* "■""' ^"'"'' '^^°" ""> the past wae STTpunS^ But X/" '"* ""^V^^- Milly'8 health gave fS^n:»„r,^*? "" ^°"« ''»» »U, all inquirers onTe^oUolS' dav 1^^ "^"o"'''^ "P"'*^ '^ Sunday, after inond^ Tvii^^'^tr; «"*n^^- ^ Vicarage to inquirHow l^lJr' ^»"'"* «^J«i «t the uprtairg to see her^ WilT i " i^" '"' """^ "" "'▼ited smile. It wan v^r^ r^L^Jl "' ^*''"* ^*^ » beaming -ed andr,di7o^rr™*° 's^rr^-^r^.*^!?^ very tiny and verr red w „;*««"«■""<»«»■' baby was fr:jr°"''*^'^'*^'-*«'^''Sthrir£L CHAPTEE Vm. afternoon afforded Van^JSer^.lTr.^ *^' ^'"'* eame in and said : ' ^•'' ** houawnaid, M™ Vr ?'"" '"' *** ^l-epherd eays, We vou lH««i - rnea pgfc^ __ jiumea out to question the f AMOS BARTON. ffiT •hspherd, who, she found, had heard the lad newi at an ala- hwe u, Uw vUlage. Mr. Haokit foUovred her out and said: You (1 better have the pony-jhaiae, and go directly." "Yes," said Mrs. Haokil^ too much overcome to utter any wolamatioM. " Kaohel, come an' help me on wi' my things." When her husband was wrapping her cloak round her feet in the pony-obaiae, she said : "If I don't come home to-night, I shall send back the ponv- chaise, and you'll know I'm wanted there." "Yes, yes." It was a bright frosty day, and by the time Mrs. Haokit ar- rived at the Vicarage, the sun was near its setting. There was a carnage and pair standing at the gate, which she recog- nized as Dr. Madeley's, the physician from Eotherby. She entered at the kitchen door that she might avoid knock- ing, and quietiy questioned Nanny. No one was in the kitchen, bu^ passing on, s' e saw the sitting-room door open, and Nanny, with Walter in her arms, removing the knives and forks, which had been laid for dinner three houn ago. "Maste says he can't eat no dinner," was Nanny's first word. "He's never tasted nothin' sin' yesterday momin', but a cup o' tea." " When was your missis took worse? " " O' Monday night. They sent for Dr. Madeley i' the mid- dle o' the day yUterday, an' he's here again now." "Is the baby alive?" « No, it died last night The children's all at Mrs. Bond's She come Md took 'em away last night, but the master says they must be fetched soon. He's upstairs now, wi' Dr. Made- ley and Mr. Brand." At this moment Mrs. Haokit heard the sound of a heavy slow foot m the passage; and presently Amos Barton entered! with dry, despairing eyes, haggard and unshaven. He ex- pected to find the sitting-room as he left it, with nothiuR to meet his eyw but Milly's work-basket in the comer of the rofa, uid the children's toys overturned in the bow-window. But when he saw Mrs. H«,kit come toward him with anawBr- ing sorrow m her face, the pent-up fountain of tears was BOKrtS OF OLRBIOAL tm. »l I fop 'em." ^ ^ """i the nan wjth the poiiy-oi«»ge "Do yon quite give her up, then?" dren." "* "^ >■"<»">«» aaked for the ohil- Mr'te^-SferulTlliet* '^- ^^*' «^^ to the weet; the^ wa. W^„ '. J*" "^'^ '^"t^d upon the'bed. X^ M^ C^fth'Sf. h ' ^"f"'*.'"' *»" upon her. The featW^ kLTT ^"^ "* d***^ ^"y Won a mateL^rS^ had been remored, and die lay Her l^nj f^^'^^ ^ '"j^^^l «^ by pillo^^ effort; herfeatmWwtr^id^^ '!^,.*f°« with a painful olced. There W^ lol^n tk ^"""^^ ""* ^" V« ''«« trora the beginnin7of S^haTi "*" '*'"* *" «*^«' "^^ »>••? op^d'heTeyr- "^'^^ ^'°°^' '-'"^^ «»- '-J. «d MiUy look which belong, to eEgwt ^* '"'^ *^ "Are the ohUdren coming?" ghe .^d, painfully Yes, they will be here directly " »"™™"y- She closed her eye* again. Fre«ntl¥ the P«y-carriage wa. heard; and AmM, motion- AXOa BABTON. f^ to* to Mm. Hwkit to foUow him. left th« H»m n- ♦i.^ ^V downitoin. ilia «dip<>.^^ *rT ^v ^''"" "" *'"•*' that wa. oome ZTtt™ .„^ !^Ji°5"!^ ">* 8^* •»«"' heard her ^^^^^ "^^ ""^ *° "''•o^ ^« "ob. a. .h. uZvi"S:;^-^-r.srt."i^7h^:- to^-^routou^good-b,. ron^r'^'ruvj:;::^ looking towwdlTe X*^T£'^r;^r"'J«°PeV«W«ly child by the hand. Mdd *'""' ""* '^"^ *»>• P0» I*le c<:Ki.'Xfi^,::::v- r^^ We ^- .p«p«- God will help yon. " brothers and sisters. Patty stood perfeotly quiet and niH » v- toS^r::d"rit^ f ^""-^--^^^^^^^ guisho^Se J::^ asTbSiSr ^srH-" toward him and pressed her \>^ I. « ^" v.^** "^""^ ^" mamma was iU and papa look^ Int^K ^V T*^ ****"»• P«r_haps next week St^be" t^V'«^:l tl'^-*''*' Ihe Uttle ones were lifted on the bed again, to kiss her. Little TO soima or olirical un. W«ltor md, "Mttim., m»mmiL,'' ud tti«tohad oat hi. fiit but Diok^, who h«l bwn looking flx«dly .t her, with lip Hanging down, erer linoe he came into the ro«n, now M«med «udd«.dy pierced with the idea that mamma waa goinR awar •omewhere ; hU Uttle heart .welled, . d he cried iSoud ■nien Mr». Haokit and Nanny took them .11 away. Patty at flrrt begged to itey at home and not go to ibs. Bond', •gam i but when Nanny reminded her that .he had better so to take care of the younger onei^ .he submitted at onoe, a^d th^ were all puiked in the ponycurriage on))e more. Milly kept her eye. .hut for wme time after the ohUdren were gone. Amo. had .unk on hU kn^n, and wa. holding her hand whjle he watched her face. By «.d by .he opened .. ^"l ""^ ^^^8 ^^ '^°^ *° •>"' whi»pei«d .lowlyT My dear-dear-hnsband-you have bewi-yery-iiid to me. you— have— made mo— very— hi^py » b«~ « hJift*^^°°'"'*""^y ^°°"- Th«y *«to:,ed her teeathi^ becoming more and more difficult, until evening ^f^ Z^ '^^ ""^ ?*'' '"''^'" "" P*«*d. About half-pMt twelve .he Mwmed to be trying to .peak, and thev leaned to catch her words. ^^ ^ " Kudo — music — didn't you hear it? " Amos knelt by the bed and held her hand in his. He did not believe m hi. sorrow. It wa. a bad dream. He did not know whm she was gone. But Mr. Brand, whom Mrs. Haokit mlf^r J^l,^*"! .^r?^" "''^^ *»'''*^ *»>»* ^- Barton might probably need his help, now came up to him, and said • with me.''^ "^ ""^ ^*^ "'"'• ^^**°^ "^y **" ■^' •»"» ali?^* ^'t ^t " '^"*"^ *•"> P«>' dewlat* man, strug- glmg to shake ofl Mr. Brand, who had taken him by theTi . But hM weary, wwkened frame was not equal to resistance, and he wa. dragged out of the room. "«««», AMOS BARTON. n CHAPTEB IX. tJ^i!^^ *"* ^}?' ««'»-**• •"••rt mother with h«r taby in her «rm.-while the Chri.tmaa .now lay thiolTuZ fewfVu- ^J"."^'- Cl«v« who buried her. ^On the tot news of Mr Barton', calamity, he had ridden oyer from IwS- .tt ^ •^ ,«"'*,'"' ™'8»" be made of .ome n^^^d U. .nJ^/J.""'' !!51 !$'"'' "P°° '^^ «"^"' "d «" • ^ioarag. to the d^urchT^S ^™«, . ^'^'' •*" ."" °P*" «"'"• There were men »>d ^^Th^^?"" '" ""* oturohyard who had bandied ruin, ^btTnot'wr'^K' *°'' '\" ^"^ "f''*'^ '"«^<» death. " had rebelled agamst his Waok clothes, until he was told that it would be naughty to mamma not to put them on, whm he at n BCIWM or OLIWOAL UFE. once lubmittod, ud now, though he h«i h«ml N«,n» «« th,t m»Bin» WM in hMTW, he h«l , vague notion th«t Z would come home •gam to-monow, and ut he h».' , ho a good boy and let him empty her work-box. He rtr , r^^ Uifathw, with gr«itro.yoheek. and wide-oper ). „" looking flnt up at Mr. Clere. and then down uh!. jUv A fMnter the hou«-the house where, an he r agu, *I^lJ '• dear body lay, where the windows were ha • L.kc .1 ' d ■arrow seemed to hare a hallowed preoinot for hs If : ..' ^t wflectod daylight was in all the rooms; the rioareg,, . k a SMmed pi^ of the common working-day world, and Amofc for the fl«t time, felt that he was aloni-that day X d.^ month after month, yea, after year, would have to to liJ2d would not be there ; summer, and she would not be ttere: mil he would never have her again with him by the fireside in tte long erenings. The seasons all seemed irksome to his thoughta, and how dre«y the sumihiny days that ^oZ^ T . u^,,"'"."'^ '°°"' ■"^" '"•k* up for omissiomi in the past by filling future days with tenderness. ^^ «.?A ^« "S^.o' *»«* tJ'o-gl't that we can never atone to 2S^w^we'^^*lfr^'^,'" «"^'' '^ 'o' the light SLZ«. ^^ *°v """ P^»^*» °'" **>•" Ple»diiigs, for ttelitUe rererenoe we showed to that sacred huLm3 that M S ta^ "■* '"' *^' '"^'** *^« <^ ^"^ »*^ Mi^ w«^°K^ ^ "■ affectionate husband, and while MUly was with him, he was never visited by the thought that psrhaps his sympathy with her was not quick and watohfu ^oughi but now he relived all their life together, with that terrible keenness of memory and imagination which bereave- ment gives, and he felt as if hi, very love needed a pardon for Its poverty and selfishness. f"""" ^w in-.°J'°"'"'*^'^ ~"''* "»«"*««»* the bitterness of thU inward woe. But outward solaoe «ime. Cold feces looked AMOS BARTOM. n kind tgain, and p4ri«hiooen turned orer in their mindi w(iat they oould beet do to help their pwtor. Mr. Oldinport wrote to ezpreu hii sympathy, and enoloeed another twenl^-ponnd note, begging that he might be permitted to contribute in thii i way to the relief of Mr. Barton'* mind from pecuniary anzle- I ties, under the preaenre of a grief which all bia parishioner! must share; and offering his interest toward placing the two eldest girls in a school ezpreosly founded for clergymen's daughters. Mr. Cleves succeeded in collecting thirty pounds among bis richer clerical brethren, and, adding ten poundu himself, sent the sum to Amos, with the kindest and most delicate words of Christian fellowship and manly friendship. Miss Jackson forgot old grierances, and ^„.L j v "*° ^"^ H%. love wa. not S Xt^oft Se '"""^ '^^ '^^ --""itrz^an-d ;^^r in'':s r^ '^^ f'" **-^ contained the annoLtll'^tT Stal'I^d ^''VT' coming to reaide at 8heppepton^dW.'«f ^ ™f '^*^ °° ^^ wmaeu to accepting one in a diatant ooun(y. Xh« AH08 BARTON. T6 parish «u in a large manufcoturing town, where hia walks would lie among noisy streets and dingy alleys, and where the children would have no garden to play in, no pleasant farm- houses to visit. It was another blow inflicted on the bruised man. -^mj^' CHAPTEB X. Ai length the dreaded week was oome, when Amos and his children must leave Shepperton. There was general regret among the parishioners at his departure: not that any one of them thought his spiritual gifts pre-eminent, or was conscious of great edification from his ministry. But his recent troubles had called out their better sympathies, and that is always a source of love. Amos failed to touch the spring of goodness by his sermons, but he touched it effectually by his sorrows; and there was now a real bond between him and his flock. "My heart aches for them poor motherless children," said Mrs. Haokitto her husband, "a-going among strangers, and into a nasty town, where there's no good victuals to be had, and you must pay dear to get bad uns." Mrs. Hackit had a vague notion of a town life as a combi- nation of dirty backyards, measly pork, and dingy linen. The same sort of sympathy was strong among the poorer class of parishionere. Old stifl-jointed Mr. Tozer, who was still able to earn a little by gardening "jobs," stopped Mrs. Cramp, the charwoman, on her way home from the vicarage, where she had been helping Nanny to pack up the day before the departure, and inquired very particularly into Mr. Bar- ton's prospects. "Ah, poor mon," he was heard to say, "I'm sorry for un. He hedn't much here, but he'll be wuss off theer. Half a loaf's better nor ne'er un." The sad good-bys had aU been said before that last evening; and after all the packing was done and all the arrangements were made, Amos felt the oppression of that blank interval in which (me has nothing left to think of but the dreary future— fm^msR- ^ If ii n 80BNB8 OF OLBRIOAL UFB. that she might have a good night's re.t before the tLgu»^ 8^™ »ni .r" '',."|~'^'"» "isH but the eky was thick with stars, and their light was enough to show that the grass had ^^ K f'L'"''' ""!.r '"'"^ '■« • tombsto^teU ^e»^I^T ^•"' °°. ' "^'^ «""""^ tl"' benoa't were Barton who died in the thirty-fifth year of her age. leavina a husband and s x ohild^n to lament her lo«,. The finSwoMs of the msonption were, " Thy wiff be done " from th^l.'T'* *■• °°'' ad^a^cing toward the dear moond fcom which he was so soon to be parted, p«haps forever. He ^ a few minutes reading over and oveVagaL the wo ds on the tombstone, as if to assure himsolf thatXhe haTJy^d ^fLu "•'!""!, •'■^'^'^ oaUousness that encroach by little St ^^ b^ "^rr'T "^ «""*• •"<» '* °«^e. effort, to ™ call the keenness of the first anguish wlS'-'tre « "'" ^'I'^t"" ^^^ '"'"*^ "^'^^ ^' be- loved wife^ the waves of feeling swelled within hisloul and "Milly Milly, dost thou hear me? I didn't love thee enough-I wasn't tender enough to the^but I tUnk If it iS! ^e jobs came and chok«i his utterance and the warm CONCLUSION. gra^ iT w,T^,, ? '"• ^ "^""^ ^"^"^ ^^*^ MiUy'» wll -4.^ !!!.'' ""' "'""• "• •"'■'l °° his arm a youug woman, with a sweet. in«v« *.«» «!.;->. .. , „■' :* r# , Jit AMOS BABTON. 77 e:qpreMum of Mrs. Barton'ii, but was lem lovely in form and color. She was about thirty, but ihere were some premature Imee round her mouth and eyes, which tp'd of early anxiety. Amos himeelf was much changed. His thin circlet of hair was nearly white, and his walk was no longer firm and up- right. But his glance was oabn, and eren cheerful, and his neat linen told of a woman's cara. Milly did not take all her love from the earth when she died. She had left some of it in Fatty's heart. All the other children were now grown up, and had gone their several ways. Dickey, you wUI be glad to hear, had shown remarkable talents as an engineer. His cheeks are still ruddy, in spite of mixed mathematics, and his eyes are still large and blue; but in other respectB his persor would present no marks of identification for his friend Mrs. Hackit, if she were io see him , especially now that her eyes must be grown very dim, with the wear of more than twenty additional years. He U nearly six feet high, and has a proportionately broad chest; he wears spectacles, and rube his large white hands through a mass of shaggy brown hair. But I am sure you have no doubt that Mr. Richard Barton is a thoroughly good fellow, as well as a man of talent, and yon will be glad any day to shake hands with him, for his own sake as well as his mother's. Patty alone remains by her father's side, and makes the evening sunshine of his life. MR. GILFIL'S LOVE-STORY. CHAPTER I. Whbh old Mr. Gilfil died, thirty yean ago, there was general sorrow in ahepperton; and if blaok oloth had not been hung round the pulpit and reading-desk, by order of his nephew and principal legate, the parishioners would certainly hare subscribed the necessary sum out of their own pockets, rather than allow such a tribute of respect to be wanting. All the farmers' wires brought out their black bombazines ; and Mrs. Jennings, at the Wharf, by appearing the first Sunday after Mr. Gilfil's death in her salmon-colored ribbons and green shawl, excited the severest remark. To be sure, Mn. Jennings was a newcomer, and town-bred, so that she could hardly be expected to have very dear notions of what was proper; but as Mrs. Higgins observed in an undertone to Mrs. Parrot when they were coming out of church, " Her hus- band, who'd been bom i' the parish, might ha' told her bet- ter." An unreadiness to put on black on all available occa- sions, or too 'great an alacrity in putting it off, argued, in Mrs. Higgins's opinion, a dangerous levity of character, and an unnatural insensibility to the essential fitneaa of things "Some folks can't a-bear to put off their colors," she re- marked ; " but that was never the way i' my family. Why, Mrs. Parrot, from the time I was married, till Mr. Higgins died, nine years ago come Candlemas, I niver was out o' black two year together ! " "Ah," said Mrs. Parrot, who was conscious of inferiority in this respect "there isn't many families as have had so many deaths as yours, Mrs. Higgins." Mrs. Higgins, who was an elder] v widow, "well lef^" re- flected with complacency that Mrs. Parrot's observation was Ha OILFIL'S IiOTB-BTORT. 79 no more than jaat, and that Mn. Jennings rery likely be- longed to a family which had had no funeiala to speak of. Even iiity Dame Fripp, who was a very rare ohurch-goei, had been to Mrs. Haokit to beg a bit of old crape, and with this sign of grief pinned on her little coal-scuttle bonnet, was seen dropping her courtesy opposite the reading-desk. This numifestation of respect toward Mr. Oilfil's memory on the part of Dame Fripp had no theological bearing whatever. It was due to an event which had occurred some years back, and which, I am sorry to say, had left that grimy old lady as in- different to the means of grace as ever. Dame Fripp kept leeches, and was understood to have such remarkable influence over those wilful animals in inducing them to bite under the most unpromising circumstances, that though her own leeches were usually rejected, from a suspicion that they had lost their appetite, she herself was constantly called in to apply the more lively individuals furnished from Mr. Pilgrim's sur- gery, when, as w^ very often the case, one of that clever man's paying patients was attacked with inflammation. Thus Dame Fripp, in addition to " property " supposed to yield her no less than half a crown a week, was in the receipt of profes- sional fees, the gross amount of which was vaguely estimated by her neighbors as " pouns an' pouns." Moreover, she drove a brisk trade in lollipop with epicurean urchins, who recklessly purchased that luxury at the rate of two hundred per cent. Nevertheless, with all these no'orious sources of income, the shameless old woman constantly pleaded poverty, and begged for scraps at Mrs. Hackit's, who, though she always said Mrs. Fripp was " as false as two folks," and no better than a miser and a heathen, had yet a leaning toward her as an old neighbor. " There's that case-hardened old Judy a-coming after the tea-leaves again," Mrs. Hackit would say; "an' I'm fool enough to give 'em her, though Sally want's 'em all the while to sweep the floors with ! " Such was Dame Fripp, whom Mr. Oilfil, riding leisurely in top-boots and spurs from doing duty at Knebley one warm nunday afterpnoRi observed sitfeg in the drj dit-sh Bear hes cottage, and by her side a large pig, who, with that ease and i^ m... •• SCBIOB OF OLKRIOAL LIFE. oonfldmoe belonging to perfaet friendship, wu lying with hi* head m hei lap, and making no effort to play the agreeable beyond an occaaional grant "Why, Mm. Fripp," said the Vjear, "I didn't know you bad nuA a fine pig. "Sou'U have some rare fli%ehes at Christ- masl" "Eh, God forbid I My son gev him me two 'ear ago, an' he 8 been oompany to me iver sin'. I couldn't find i' my heart to part wi'm, if I nJTer ki>ow«d the taste o' beoon-fat again." " my, he'U eat his head off, and yours too. How can you go oa keepmg a pig, and making nothing by him? " "Oh, he picks a bit hisself wi' rootin', and T dooant mind r! "'J^ *° ^' ^"" """"nat. A bit o' ooompany's meat an drmk too, an' he follers me about, and grunts when I spake to'm, just like a Christian." Mr. Qilfil hiughed, and I am obliged to admit that he said good-by to Dame Fripp without asking her why she had not been to ohuroh, or making the slightest effort for her spiritual edification. Bat the next ia^ he ordwed his man David to take her a great pwee of bacon, with a message, saying, the parson WMrted to make sore that Mrs. Fripp would know the taste of baetm-fat again. So, when Mr. Gilfil died, Dame Fnpp manifested her gratitiide and reTcienoe in the simple dingy fashimi I have mentioned. Yon already suspect that the Vicar did not shine in the more spmtanl functions of his office; and indeed, the utmost I can say for him in tiiis respect is, that he performed those funo- tioBS with nndeviating attention to brevity and despatch He had a large heap of short sermons, rather yellow and worn at the edges, from which he took two every Sunday, securing perfect impartiality in the se ection by taking them as they came, without leference to topics; and having preached one of these sermons at Shepperton in the morning, he mounted his horse and rode hastily with the other in his pocket to Kneb- ley, where he officiated in a wonderful little ohuroh, with a checkered pavement which had onoe rung to the iron tread of suutary laonkg, wltii uuats of arms in clusters on the lofty roof, marble warriors, and their wives without noses occupy- J*C' MWJM KB. OILFIL-S L0VB-8T0RT. 81 ing » large pioportioii of th« uea, and the twelre apoatlei, with their head* yeiy mnoh on one side^ holding didaotie rib- bom, painted in freaoo on the walU. Hare, in an absence of mind to which he was prone, Mr. Gilfil would Bometimes for- get to take off hig spurs before putting on his surplice, and only become aware of the omission by feeling something myste- riously tugging at the skirts of that garment as he stepped into the reading-desk. But the Knebley farmers would as soon have thought of criticising the moon as their pastor. He be- longed to the course of nature, like markets and toll-gates and dirty bank-notes; and being a vicar, his claim on their rener- ation had never been counteracted by an exasperating claim on their pockets. Some of them, who did not indulge in the superflui^ of a covered cart without springs, had dined half an horn earlier than usual— that is to say, at twelve o'clock— in order to have time for their long walk through miry lanes, and present themselves duly in their places at two o'clock, when Mr. Oldiuport and Lady Felicia, to whom Knebley Church was a sort of family temple, made their way amcmg the bows and courtesies of their dependents to a carved and canopied pew in the chancel, diffusing as they want a delicate odor of Indian roses on the unsusceptible nostrils of the congregation. The farmers' wives and children sate on the dark oaken benches, but the husbands usually chose the distinctive dig- nity of a stall under one of the twelve apostles, where, when the alternation of prayers and responses had given place to the agreeable monotony of the sermon, Paterfamilias might be seen or heard sinking into a pleasant doze, from which he in- fallibly woke up at the sound of the concluding doxolc^. And then they made their way back again through the mirjr lanes, perhaps almost as much the better for this simple weekly tribute to what they knew of good and right, as many a more wakeful and critical congregation of the present day. Mr. Gilfil, too, used to make his way home in the later years of his life, for he had given up the habit of dining at Knebley AhhAV nn a Su^'^H." Kow^T*™ T *•— — 4— — — 1--J =. - - ,-,-- bitter quarrel with Oldinport, the oousin and predeceeaor of the Mr. Oldinport who flourished in the Bev. Amo8 Barton'a >#_ .^#* ^ .fi il •* 8CTNI8 OF OLBRIOAL UTt. In tho« friendly S. Ta f e Jttnt'^ "Tv ^e*^'' "«' W« »atiw having the fl«„r!S. - *f.*'*«°«^y "•"wtio turn, conaoiouB yirtne Dre«Jf2i !^ • ^ Oldinport's armor of of the caee presented ZZT'u w°^ '*. '""*• ''*• *^»« 'i'^ the matter I^^tL'JL ^^tT^" ^'"' " ""«'* •" quarrel, when pLi^e aZ^^"- ^"^ T^ '^' *k« tion for the Proeeontim^ ttI? ^^ '^'"* °* *''• A«,ooia- he oontribuSTS^S'^,''^'' '* «>• ^Z-^^.r ^' oeoMion by info«n,n» »k *"* «»^iTi«li(7 on that given the SqSTT4'^«.T^y f '^ "*^' P^ ^ The detectioaTthewir^, ™«gh aide of hU tongue." Plot's h.iLi'^dTd,:'hC'SL:'^„'^ "1^ °'"^- to the Shepperton tenant^ -ut .'**°,'"°™ welcome news the woret X« a Wl^ with whom Mr. Oldinport wa. in o' filling pHces'T^d^'Jr^XltrS.^r'' ''l t** ^ paragraphs i4 the provinoUl new. ™^J^^*^ 'r"'**?" Honorable Augustus Ptow«I7 ™. v* ^?™' •***^8 **«' **• « return of ten MZnV^ f i' °'7V"~^t BJ^thers, had made Mr. OldinpTr? ZiZl'Z 2^Lt 1' '?*"''*^- '^^ *-«* ^". P*rliamenrwh«L hetL .?i^l! "'*^"°" °' "»»'«»» '" to his uaentl^Ktate „ ?°T '°**°'*°° »' "^diug it ^«>»sgoT^l^:,i^°^ *° *'«' Shepperton farmer! better than those^Z m» uho ^! f^"" ''^""'"'' " »*"« the giblets in alms. TT^Cv^^l\'rir^ '^"'^ '"'^^ .tate of Attio culture comL^^^K^.i? "'^fri '"" '" ' «>ads and a public ooini^r^i:^ 1"!"*^ ' ** .»'«" pariahionera, from the generation whose children he had ohriatened a quarter of . r^- T "^ ^^'\*" *" '**P«'"^ generation repreaented toouMr. for the «,yere .implioity of a tight auit of oordurora, whered by numeroua braaa button.. Tommy was a «Soy i^i'TIT!? *° ^' in'P'ea.ions of reyeren^ and eioea- Kvdy addicted to humming-tope and marblerwith whSi ^^J'lt'^Tf ^/v':" ^ ^' ""^"o' immoderately dis- to^^ ll" '^'";"^'. ""» '•^« «» Vioar ^va^oe dli^y «?^» ^ *^' """^ """"*«'* '^"^ it ^»» beginning to ".leep" mapiiiioently. he ahonted out with all thfforoe of ^}f'^y^^^ '*°"'* ''"~* "y t°P down, now! "Tom fer ^r,Z ^"^"^ *° ^'^°^* ^ "*dy ~°» ""d won- der by putting queations whioh gave Tommy the meanest opinion of his inteUeot "«»neei ^'' Well, little Corduroys, have they milked the geese to- riliyr^"* **" ****' ''''^' """^ ^°"'* "'"'' *• 80«~. yo» "Nol dear hearti why, how do the goslings live, then? " ine nutriment of goslings rather transcending Tommy's ob- •enrations in natural history, he feigned to understand this quesbon in an exclamatory rather than an interrogatory sense. and became absorbed in winding up his top. » ' «^ " ^\^ '*? ^°" ^*"''* ^°^ ^"^ "" goslings lire I But did you notice how it rained sugar-plums yesterday? » (Here Tommy became attentive.) " Why, they fell into my pocket didn't"^' "^°" ^°°^ ^ "' p**""* ""^ "*" " '^^y Tommy, without waiting to discuss the alleged antecedent, lost no time m ascertaining the presence of the agreeable con- 84 8C«WM OF OLBBIOAL Lm. •^UMtj for he Ud » wdl.foundad beUef in th. iMiTMt««e. of ■taven and two-.hoM "_«, he oitUed aU littia boy. «d prl»-whaney.r he put p«mie. into it, they tun.«l into .u^ nn^""*^'*? '°^'"*' *^''°' "** "»* "hrittening dinner, were none the lea, merry for the premoe of the pamm Th^ .^krh^""" '"Z""'"*^ PaBtiouUrly. for he o^^it olfy •moke hu pipe, and se.«m the detaihi of paridi afflur. JiS ^d«.oe of caurtio joke, and prorerU, b^^^"'^Si rften «id, no m«i knew more than the Vioar about tt^^ b™Sd of oow. and horee.. He had grazing-Und of hi. o^ a^ five mUe. off, whioh a bailiil, o.ten.ibly a tenuTftS under hm direction; «id to ride b^ikwaM andf^ardTd kok l^r the buying and «dling of .took. wa. the ^d^„£ W. chief relaxation, now hi. hunting/day. were oveT To W him dj«>n«ingthe reep^jtive merit, of the Devo^hi™ m^.t™<- *^?j:'i''^^°"^ »' tie laat foolirii decision "tt^ magutrates about a pauper, a .uperficial observer might hare Men 1 ttle difference, beyond hi. superior riirewdne..,*^tw^ approximate his accent and mode of speech to theirs, doubt les. because he thought it a mere frustration of uTlZse. of language to talk" of "riiear-hogs » and "ewe." t^ C^t^ h.bituaUy«ud ".harrags" and "yowes." NererthellL^e tarmer, ^em»lves were perfectly aware of theZt^til between them and the parson, and h«i not at aU the C speech and &nuhar manner.. Mrs. Parrot smoothed^, ^eTrth« V " °*^ "«^' T"^ *■'« "*°'°"* ""lioit-de when Bhe WW the Vioar commg, made him her deepest courtesy and ^l^^'^^H^X' " ^n*"*ey ready to JLid him^S W fli X." -"\° "* t-- — ^i' gossiping colloquies with Mr. GU- fil, you might hav. observed that both men and women ..^F^ja MB. OILFIL'a LOTB-STOBT. M ''iiiind«d their wordi," and narer b hmt siMJ ■miit IM •''^■oeonr hkhution ibt quit (ANSI and OO TEST CHA«T No. 2) us, "■ Im U Urn 1^ 5l« |Z0 ■ 1.8 1.4 A /APPLIED IM.1GE Ine ^ 1853 Eort Main Strwt (716) «3 - 0300 - Phofw (71fl) 288- 5969 -rmc M SOBITES OP CLBBICAL LIFE. dispute with her grocer; but I am not aware that ahe ever ap- peared to be much struck by the sermon on anger. ™,«,V*° ^I """Pioio" that Mr. Gilfil did not dispense the pure Gospel, or any strictures on his doctrine and mode of delivery, such thoughts never visited the minds of the Shen- perion pansh.oners-of those very parishioners who, ten or M?^J "■ ^ ''' '^"""^ themselves extremely critical of Z;.lT^ ! fT^T' ""^ d«»°«»nor. But in the interim they had tasted that dangerous fruit of the tree of knowledge -mnovafaon, which is well known to open the eyes, even to a^ uncomfortable manner. At present, to find fanu'w^th^ sermon was r^arded ao almost equivalent to finding fault with ^^Z I ''^- fl^" ®'""'''^' **'• Haokit's neph!w, M^;^ Tom Stokes, a flippant town youth, greatly scandalized his excellent reUtives by declaring that he could write a^ ™od a duoe the presumptuous youth to utter confusion, by offering in7"•^"^^''°"'""'«'^"""^*• The'sermonwaf wntton, however; and though it was not admitted to be any- where within reach of Mr. Gilfil's, it was yet so astonishinghr i^ve^r^^"" he^ning " And now, my brethren," that the sovereign, though denied formally, was bestowed iiiformaUy, W..1 ^fTV^ pronounced, when Master Stokes's back was turned, to be " an uncommon cliver thing » h.J^.t ST" ^- ^'"^^ ^^'^ "* *^« Independent Meeting, ti™ 1^ 'aV ""T" P""^^«^ "* ^^0^^, for the redu!- zTo^ ^f/..^""'?"^ °* *"•*"• ^^ '~«'1«" ^'^ the original "2;^ . 'tf "" " ^"^"^ '•'•'«' «>« Vicar was very dark"; and in the prayers he addressed to his own oongre«^ tion, he was m the habit of comprehensively alluding to the parishioners outside the chapel waUs, as those wh^,^G^1o! hke, cared for none of these things." But I need hidly say that no church-goer ever came within earshot of Mr. Pickard It was not to the Shepperton farmers only that Mr Gilfil'B sooie^ was acceptable; he was a welcome gu'est at some of Uie best houses in that part of the country. Old Sir Jasner S^- weU would hav« been glad to see hiiT^very w^k, 3 you MB. GILFIL'8 L0VE-8T0BT. 87 had seen him conducting Lady SitweU in to dinner, or had heard him talking to her with quaint yet graceful g^Uantry. you would have mferred that the earlier period of hU life had been passed in more stately society than could be found in ahepperton, and that his slipshod chat and homely manners were but like weather-stains on a fine old block of marble allowing you still to see here and there the fineness of the grain, and the delicacy of the original tint. But in his later years these^ visits became a little too troublesome to the old gentlemui, and he was rarely to be found anywhere of an evening beyond the bomids of his own parish-moSt frequent- ly, mdeed, by the side of hU own sitting-room fire, smoking hiB pipe, and mamtaining the pleasing antithesis of dryness and moisture by an occasional sip of gin-and-water. Here I am aware that I have run the risk of alienating all my refined lady-readers, and utterly annihilating any curiosity aiqr may have felt to know the details of Mr. Gilfil's love-story Gm-and-water! foh! you may as well ask us to interest oii- selves in tte romance of a tallow-chandler, who mingles the image of his beloved with short dips and moulds. " But in the first place, dear ladies, aUow me to plead that gm-and-water, like obesity, or baldness, or the gout, does not wolude a vast amount of antecedent romance, any more than the neatiy executed "fronts" which you may some day wear, will exclude your present possession of less expensive braids. Alas, alas I we poor mortals are often little better than wood- ashes-ttere is smaU sign of the sap, and the leafy freshness, and the burstang buds that were once there; but wherever we see wood-ashes, we know that all that early fulness of life must have been. I, at least, hardly ever look at a bent old man, or a wizened old woman, but I see also, with my mind's eye, that Past of which they are the shrunken remnant, and the unfinished romance of rosy cheeks and bright eyes seems sometimes of feeble interest and significance, compared with that drama of hope and love which has long ago reached its catastrophe, and left the poor scU, like a dim and dusty stage, with all its sweet garden-scenes and fair perspectives overturned and thrust out of sight. In the second place, let me assure you that Mr. Gilfg po- " SCENES OF CLERICAL UFB. T^TJ^ Pn-and-water were quite moderate. His noee wu nrt mbu,„ndi on the oontrarr, hi. white hair hung a^I" pale and venerable face. He drank it chiefly, I lilieve. bJ- flattering portrait rather than a faithful one, I might haye chosen to suppress. It is undeniable that a^ the y«^s ad! raneed^ Mr. GUfil became, as Mr. Haokri^rv^, m«e i^d wiaTh^f^ T f"'S^'^°''y of h" personal hafiits, than in r'^SSSth^^rtotLSorfneXw^^^^^^ '' to begin life with, and will bring his pretty young wife some tS^ ^.^**" *°l*^ I'earthlhat mine was lonely." ^ Mr. Gilfil was a bachelor, then? «.™^'** '" *\<=°»<'l»"on to which you would probably hare teSL thrJ:^ »*!"d hi. sitting-room, wh'ere th^tL tables, the large old-faduoned horse-hair chairs, and the M«Md to teU a .tory of wifeless existence that was c^- S Svi.T'*r*:.°° t^ °' embroidery, no faded Mt of nio^7 ^^;.^*"«v°* taper-fingers and small feminine ambitions. And it was here that Mr. Gilfil paswd his e^- uigs, seldom with other «H!iety than that of Ponto hi^ o?d te^wn sette^ who .tretohed ouf at full length TttX wS Mt up his eyelids every now and then, to exchange a glance of mutual miderstanding with hi. master. But there wS™ STre^bv^' ""^ wl^*'" dini»g-oom-a chamber nev» enter^ by any one besides Mr. Gilfil and old Martha the of thi. T^t*^' ^'"" ' '""^'^ establishment ThrK wl,« M Jr*^' """" "''"y" '^°'"'' ««ept once a qWtor aiway. asked Mr. Gilfil for the key, which he kept locked up MB. GILFIL'S LOVE-STOBT. 89 W Si!^' ""^ "'"""^ " *° •"*" ^^'^ "''« 1"^ finished lu. "wlrtht '^""'^^ i'i''''* *** *" "^y»8ht rtrewned in upon, as Martha drew aside the blinds and thick curtains Wd opened the Gothic casement of the oriel window! bTthe Ht- ITk^^l/T^^ of wax-oandle were stiU in the branched sockets at the sides, and on one of these branches hung a little bUcklaoe kerchief, a faded satin pin-cushion, witt tte pks '^ ^;t. a scent-bottle, and a hirge green fan, laron t^ able; and on a dressing-box by the side of the glass was a work-basket, and an unfinished baby-cap, yeUow w?th «e lymg in it. Two gowns, of a fashion long forLC ^™ hangmg on nails against the door, and a pair of ttoyl^ Tli^ pers with a bit of tarnished silrer embroW^ry on the^ w^ standing at the foot of the bed. Two or ttree waS-cX drawings, views of Naples, hung upon the walls: Jd ^er the mantelpiece, above some bits- of r„e old chin^^wo TmS tares m oval frames. One of these minUtures «p«Lted a l^en!« „?r • , *^?f,f°"J»« than eighteen, with small features, thm cheeks, a pale southern-looking complexion and large dark eyes. The gentleman wore polder j tCudy o^n t«''*'«\'"'" Battered away from her face, a^dalMe cap, with a cheny-colored bow, set on the top of her head ^^TZ^-^-" ''" "- ''^ '^^'^ ^ -^^^- jT^rZ ^l ^^^ ""* ^'^^^ ^^ 'l"'"«d and let the' Lof^en^ *ZV^^' •"'" "^"^ •^« ^ * blooming 6UfiP«^r^' If""" T °'^' ^ ^^ 1««* ade of Mr S^ tSelL"!?"*"'\°°' v^ °° ^' "">'"! «<^'' °* fifty- Such was the looked-up chamber in Mr. Gilfil's house: a sort of visible symbol of the secret chamber in his hea^^l™ row^^shuttrng up forever all the passion'^and the poe^Tf whTn rr '"'* TJ ^^^^ ^ *« ^P^^ *«>ides Martha, who had any very distinct remembrance of Mr. Gilfil's wif^ M SOBina OP CUIRICAL LIFB. OT indeed who knew anything of her, beyond the fact that there was a marble tablet, with a Utin inaoription in memory of her, OTer the Tio»r«ge pew. The parishioners who were old enough to remember her arrival were not generally rifted with descriptive powers, and the utmost you could gather from them was, that Mrs. Gilfil looked like a " furriner, wi' such eyes, you can" think, an' a voice as went through you when she sung at church." The one exception was Mrs. Patten, whose strong memory and taste for personal narrative mZde her a great sonrce of oral tradition in Shepperton. Mr S «-,r^° ^ .'"'* '*"'* "'*° ^^ P"''li »°*il ten years after Mrs. GUfil's death, would often put old questions to Mrs. Pat- ten ffx- the sake of getting the old answers, which pleased him in the same way as passages from a favorite book, or the scenes of a familiar play, please more accomplished people Ah, you remember, well the Sunday as Mrs. Gilfil first come to church, eh, Mrs. Patten?" " To be sure I do. It was a fine bright Sunday as ever was •**"' J'Jf^v** f^ b«8innin' o' hay harvest. Mr. Tarbett preached that day, and Mr. Gilfil sat i' the pew ^ith his wife. I think I see him now, a-leading her up tho aisle, an' her head not reachin' much above his elber: a little pale woman, witii eyes as black as sloes, an' yet lookin' bl^k- lute, as if she see'd nothing with 'em." "I warrant she had her weddin' clothes on?" said Mrs. ■UftCKlt. "Nottin' %rtickler smari^-on'y a white hat tied down under her chin, an' a white Indy muslin gown. But you don't know what Mr. Gilfil was in those times. He was fine an altered before you come into the parish. He'd a fresh color Aen, an' a -bright look wi' hU eyes, as did your heart good to see He looked rare and happy that Sunday; but somehow, I'd a feelin' as it wouldn't last long. I've no Opin- ion o furrmers, Mr. Hackit, for I've travelled i' their eountrv with uy lady in my time, an' seen enough o' their victuaU an' their nasty ways." "Mrs. Gilfil come from It'ly, didn't she?" ri,17 'SJ^'^^J?* ^^'■'^^ ^ "''" """'^ "8J»"y 1>«" "boot that. Mr. Gifil was mver to be spoke to about her. and no- MR. GILFIL'8 LOVE-STOBT. 91 body elae hereabout knowed anythin'. Howiver, she must ha' come over pretty young, for she spoke EngUsh as weU as you an' me. It's them Italians as has such fine voices, an' Mrs. Gilfil sung, you never beared the like. He brought her here to have ' ea with me one afternoon, and says he, in his jovial way, ' Now, Mrs. Patten, I want Mrs. Gilfil to see the neatest house, and drink the best cup o' tea, in aU Shepper- ton ; you must show her your dairy and your cheese-ioom, and then she shall sing you a song.' An' so she did; an' her voice seemed sometimes to fill the room; an' then it went low an' soft as if it was whisperin' close to your heart like." " You never beared her again, I reckon? " "No: she was sickly then, and she died in a few months after. She wasn't in the parish much more nor half a year altogether. She didn't seem lively that afternoon, an' I could see she didn't care about the dairy, nor the cheeses, on'y she pretended, to please him. As for him, I niver see'd a man so wrapt up in a woman. He looked at her as if he was worship- pin' her, an' as if he wanted to lift her off the ground ivery minute, to save her the trouble o' walkin'. Poor man poor manl It had liked to ha' killed him when she died, though he niver gev way, but went on ridin' about and preachin'. But he was wore to a shadow, an' his eyes used to look as dead— you wouldn't ha' knowed 'em." " She brought him no fortdn? " " Not she. All Mr. Gilfil's property come by his mother's side. There was blood an' money too, there. It's a thou- sand pities as he married i' that way—a fine man Uke him, as might ha' had the pick o" the county, an' had hU grandchUdron about him now. An' him so fond o' chU- dren, too." In this manner Mrs. Patten usually wound up her reminis- cences of the Vicar's wife, of whom, you perceive, she knew but little. It was clear that the communicative old lady had nothing to tell of Mrs. Gilfil's history previous to her arrival in Shepperton, and that she was unacquainted with Mr. Gil- fil's love-story. But I, dear reader, am quite as communicative as Mrs. Pat- ten, and much better informed; so that, if you care to know 93 SOBmCS OF CI.ERICAL LITE. mote about the View's oonrtihip and marriage, yon need aHj oany jour imagination back to the latter end of the last cen^ tory, and joar attention forward into the next chapter. CHAPTER II. It is the evening of the 21st of Jnne, 1788. The day has been bright and sultry, and the sun will still be more than an hour above the horizon, but his rays, broken by the leafy fret- work of the elms that border the park, no longer prevent two ladies from carrying out their cushions and embroidery, and seating themselves to work on the lawn in front of Cheverel Kanor. The soft turf , gives way even under the fairy tread of the younger lady, whose small stature and slim figure rest on the tiniest of full-grown feet. She trips along before the elder, carrying the cushions, which she places in the favorite spot, just on the slope by a clump of laurels where they can see the sunbeams sparkling among the water-lilies, and can be themselves seen from the dining-room windows. She has de- posited the cushions, and now turns round, so that you may have a full view of her as she stands waiting the slower ad- vance of the elder lady. You are at once arrested by her large dark eyes, which, in their inexpressive unconscious beauty, resemble the eyes of a fawn, and it is only by an effort of at- tention that you notice the absence of bloom on her young cheek, and the southern yellowish tint of her small neck and face, rising above the little black lace kerchief which prevents the too immediate comparison of her skin with her white mus- lin gown. Her large eyes seem all the more striking' because the dark hair is ^-athered away from her face, under a little cap set at the top of her head, with a cherry-colored bow on one Bide. The elder lady, who is advancing toward the cushions, is oast in a very diilerent mould of womanhood. She is tall, and looks ihe taller because her powdered hair is turned backward over a toupee, and sarmoonted by la«e and ribbons. She is nearly fifty, but her complexion is still fresh and beautiful. MR QILFIL'8 LOVE-STORY. M ^T^" ^^V *° ''°.''""' '''•""^•i her prwd pouting lips •nd her head thrown a little backward as she waTs^v.^t ;re"yr TheTu^""!^ 'i""* -"a«t 'r:oM gray eye The tuoked-m kerchief, rising full over thi< In- fant '^''k l""^ "'"•' •''«"' "^ °ff «>« majlc for,f ^f h« ^t, and she treads the lawn as if she were one of Sir Joshni Set^r^i^eiXt^r'-"-'-*--^^-"^^^ when still at some distance. »uuiomy, Caterina obeyed, and they sat down, making two bright patches of red and white and blue on the green lLK>und oj fte laurel, and the lawn, which would look none^e le^, fir^"',/ Pfr ^""^ "■"' °* the women's hearts wm rather cold and the other rather sad. And a charming picture Cheverel Manor would have made .? thJ3/!i,T ^"^'i"^ '^'"'«»" ^'^ ^«» there to S t . the castellated house of gray-tinted stone, with the flicker- ing sunbeams sending dashes of golden light'acrosB tte mtt shaped panes m the mullioned windows, and a great S leanmg athwart one of the flanking tower^, and breS^tt Z f"i.«»"<"""i b°"8H the too formi symTt^rf^ front, the broad gravel-walk, winding, on the'^righrbyl row among swelling grassy mounds, surmounted by clumps of L^ where the red trunk of the Scotch fir glows L the d^S Bu^ight against the bright green of limes and aca^°tf great pool where a pair of swans aro swimming lazily with one leg tucked under a wing, and where the open water-iuf^ he calmly accepting the kisses of the fluttering light-spluer 1 r\ '"'^'k ™~*^ """^^ 8reenness,yingTwn to the rougher and browner herbage of the paik, feom which it ismv^bly fenced by a liule stream that ^dsaw^^ from th* pool, and disappears under a wooden bridge in the distant Se"lir™'^r' °" *^ ^^"" °" '-° I'dies, whose St* rnd'^hiranTSur ' "'""'"' "'*' * ''" ""^^ ^'"'^ °' -^ ■ M BOBNXS or CLIIUOAIi UFX. 8«en ftom the great Oothio windowi of the dining-room, they had much more deflniteness of ontline, and were dietinotly Tiiible to the three gentlemen sipping their olaiet there, as two fair women in whom all three had a personal interest. These gentlemen were a group worth considering attentively ; but any one entering that dining-room for the first time, would perhaps have had his attention even more strongly arrestnd by the room itself, which was so bare of fumitur that it impressed one with its architectural beauty like a cathedral. A piece of matting stretched from door to door, a bit of worn carpet under the dining-table, and a sideboard in a deep recess, did not de- tain the eye for a moment from the lofty groined ceiling, with its richly carved pendants, all of creamy white, relieved here and there by touches of gold. On one side, this lofty ceiling was supported by pillars and arches, beyond which a lower ceiling, a miniature copy of the higher one, covered the square projection which, with its three large pointed windows, formed the central feature of the building. The room looked less like a place to dine in than a piece of space enclosed simply for the sake of beautiful outline; and the small dining-table, with the party round it, seemed an odd and insignificant accident, rather than anything connected with the original purpose of the apartment. But, examined closely, that group was far from insignifi- cant; for the eldest, who was reading in the newspoper the last portentous proceedings of the French parliaments, and turning with occasional oomments to his young companions, WAS as fine a specimen of the old English gentleman as could well have been found in those venerable days of cooked-hats and pigtails. His dark eyes sparkled under projecting brows, made more prominent by bushy grizzled eyebrows; but any apprehension of severity excited by these penetrating eyes, and by a somewhat aquiline nose, was allayed by the good- natured lines about the mouth, which retained all its teeth and its vigor of expression in spite of sixty winters. The forehead sloped a little from the projecting brows, and its peaked out- line was made conspicuous by the arrangement of the profusely powdered hair drawn backward and gathered into a pigtail. He sat in a small hard chair, which did not admit the slight- MR. OILFIL'B LOTI-STORT. 06 ••t approadi to a lounge, ud which ihowed to .d»MitM« th. a«tneM of hi. back and the breadth of hi. ol^t iTt^ ^ Cl.i.tophe, Cheverelwa. a .plendid old t"ue„. ° r.^Sy M. "" " A^ P*"°"' ^' '""'•l We ^n r" ut^:t; n '^'^ "' "' '^•'•'•- But the perfections of Us Sim well-proportioned figure were so strikinVthrt no one hu smaU white hands, with their blue rein, and taper fin^^ e\^lTtw'LluSl,^"^°'^,^'--ffl- The'CC mthi„„ T^.^ * *" "^ "'ly-'""" certainly not pleasing Nothing could be more delicate than the blond oompr^ri tSTe^lt thtr"''"' ''i'-'^"' ^''^ -^ '"-- f^mg eyelidj which gave an indolent exprtssion to the ^LlTyi °K*i^'f ""^ «"% '^'t than the t^^pf n^t tte t^tl^^T °^P?' "P- ^"'^P' t'"' «Wn and Wer^w ^e^idr^tTei-^TSii^-^^^^^^^^^ ^loothness of the sloping forehead' 'SssTbte to say"": both of men and women, it was destitute of charm wZ^ disliked eyes that seemed to be indolently a^e^g a^r^ tendeTe^^" ''"''^? "' «"d men, espi^ially'^tf theytS a to S'^^islTr'^"-^ *" '"^ "^^ ankles,^ere Lw fan!w rt ? *^°'" "" ' P*«**" » "confounded puppy » I dining-tableXgh ^ S Ss^t/Sw^S ^at Ik I »e BOnfXa OF OLIRIOAL UFE. ,'U •11 of k kind to make him peeuliwly alive to the lmp«itiiianoe andfriTolityofpenoaaladTantagci. Hiahaalthyopm&otaDd Tobuit limba wow tftet an exoellont pottein tot avoiy-day waar, and, in tlie opinion of Mr. Batea, tha noith-oountiy gardener, would have become regimentals " a fain laight " better than the " peaky " featurut and alight form of Captain Wybrow, not- withstanding that this young gentleman, aa Sir Christopher's nephew and destined heir, had the strongest hereditary olaim on the gardener's respect, and was undeniably " clean-limbed." But, alas t human longings are perversely obstinate; and to the man whose mouth is watering for a peach, it is of no use to offer t^e largest vegetable marrow. Hr. Oilfil waa not sensi- tive to Mr. Batea's opinion, whereas he toot sensitive to the opinion of another person, who by no meana ahared Mr. Batea's preference. • Who the other person waa it would not liave required a very keen observer to guess, from a certain eagerness in Mr. Oilfll's glance aa that little figure in white tripped along the lawn with the cushions. Captain Wybrow, tooy waa looking in the same direction, but his handsome face remained handsome — and nothing more. "Ah," said 8ir Christopher, looking up from hia paper, "theie'a my lady. King for coffee, Anthony; we'll go and join her, and the little monkey Tina shall give us a song." The coffee presently appeared, brought — not as usual by the footman, in scarlet and drab, but — by the old butler, in thread- bare but wall-bruahed black, who, aa he was placing it on the table, said: " K you please. Sir Christopher, there's the widow Hartopp a-orying i' the still-room, and begs leave to see your honor." " I have given Markham full orders about the widow Har- topp," said Sir Christopher, in a sharp, decided tone. "I have nothing to say to her." "Your honor," pleaded the butler, rubbing his hands, and putting on an additional coating of humility, " the poor wom- an's dreadful overcome, and says she can't sleep a wink this blessed night without seeing your honor, and she begs you to pardon the. great freedom she's took to come at this time. She cries fit to break her heart." MB. OILFIL-S L0VS-8T0RT. Vt "•^y. Vi w»tw payi no tax. Wall, show har into tlw libmy." Coffae dMpatohed, the two young men walked out through the open window, and joined the ladiei on the lawn, while 8ir Chriatopher made hia way to the library, aolemnly followed by Rupert, hia pet bloodhound, who, in hia habitual place at the Baronet'a right hand, behaved with great urbanity during din- ner; but when the oloth waa drawn, inrariably dUappeared under the table, apparently regarding the olaret-jug aa a mere human weakneas, which he winked at, but refuaed to gauction. The library lay but three atepa from the dining-room, on the other side of a oloiatered and matted paaaage. The oriel window was oyerghadowed by the great beech, and thia, with the flat, heayily carved oeUing and the dark hue of the old booka that lined the walla, made the room look aombre, eape- oiaUy on entering it from the daning-room, with iu aerial curvea and cream-colored fretwork touched with gold. As Sir Chriatopher opened the door, a jet of brighter light .'eU on a woman in a widow'a dress, who atood in the middle of the room, and made the deepest of oourteaies as he entered. She was a buxom woman approaching forty, her eyea red with the tears which had evidently been abaorbed by the handkerchief gathered into a damp ball in her right hand. "Now, Mra. Hartopp," said Sir Christopher, taking out his gold suufl-box and tapping the Ud, "what have you to say to me? Markham has delivered you a notice to quit, I suppose? " "0 yia, your honor, an' thaf a the reason why I've come. I hope your honor 'U think better on it, an' not turn me an' my poor ohUdren out o' the farm, where my husband al'ya paid his rent as reg'lar as the day come." " Nonsense ! I should like to know what good it wiU do you and your ohUdren to stay on a farm and lose every farthing your husband has left you, instead of selling your stock and going into some little place where you can keep your money together. It is very weU known to every tenant of mine that I never allow widows to stay on their husbands' farms." "O, Sir Chriatifer, if you womM consider— when I've sold the hay an' com an' aU the live things, an' paid the debts, an pat the money out to use, I shall have hardly enough to II ill ""• 8CBNB8 OP OLBBIOAL UFB. keep our sonls an' bodies together. An' how oan I rear my boys and put 'em 'prentice? They must go for day-laborers, an' their father a man wi' as good belongings as any on your honor's estate, an' niver threshed his wheat ifore it was well i' the rick, nor sold the straw off his farm, nor nothin'. Ask all the farmers round if there was a stiddier, soberer man than my husband as attended Eipstone market An' he says, ' Bessie,' says he— them was his last words— ' you'll mek a shift to manage the farm, if Sir Christif er 'ull let you stay on. ' " "Pooh, poohl" said Sir Christopher, Mrs. Hartopp's sobs having interrupted her pleadings, "now listen to me, and try to understand a little common sense. You are about as able •» manage the farm as your best milch cow. You'll be obliged to have some managing man, who will either cheat you out of your money, or wheedloycu into marrying him." " O, your honor, I was never that sort o' woman, an' nobody has known it on me." " Very likely not, because you were never a widow before. A woman's always silly enough, but she's never quite as great a fool as she can be until she puts on a widow's cap. Now, just ask yourself how much the better you will be for staying on your farm at the end of four years, when you've got through your money, and let your farm run down, and are in arrears for half your rent; or, perhaps, have got some great bulky fel- low for a husband, who swears at you and kicks your chil- dren." "Indeed, Sir Christif er, 1 know a deal o' farmin', an' was brought up i' the thick on it, as you may say. An' there was my husband's great-aunt managed a farm for twenty year, an' left legacies to all her nephys an' nieces, an' even to my hus- band, as was then a babe unborn." "Pshaw I a woman six feet high, with a squint and sharp elbows, I dare say— a man in petticoats. Not a rosy-cheeked widow like you, Mrs. Hartopp." "Indeed, your honor, I never heard of her squintin', an' they said as she might ha' been married o'er and o'er again, to people as had no call to hanker after her money." " -^yi ayi that's what you all think. Every man that looks at yott wants to marry you, and would like you the better the MB. GILPrL'B LOVE-STOBT. 99 more children yon have and the less money. But it is useless to talk and cry. I have good reasons for my plans, and never alter them. What you have to do is to make the best of your stock, and to look out for some little place to go to, when you leave The Hollows. Now, go back to Mrs. Bellamy's room, and ask her to give you a dish of tea." Mrs. Hartopp, understanding from Sir Christopher's tone that he was not to be shaken, courtesied low and left the library, while the Baronet, seating himself at his desk in the oriel window, wrote the following letter: Mr. Mabmak,— Take no steps about letting Crowgfoot Cottage, aa I intend to put in the widow Hartopp when she leaves her farm; and if you will be here at eleven on Saturday morning, I will ride round with you, and settle about making some repairs, and see about adding a bit of land 10 the take, as she will want to keep a cow and some pigs. Tours faithfully, Chustophss Chbvbml. After ringing the bell and ordering this letter to be sent, Sir Christopher walked out to join the party on the lawn. But finding the cushions deserted, he walked on to the eastern front of the building, where, by the side of the grand entrance, was the large bow-window of the saloon, opening on to the gravel-sweep, and looking toward a long vista of undulating turf, bordered by tall trees, which, seeming to unite itself with the green of the meadows and a grassy road through a planta- tion, only terminated with the Gothic arch of a gateway in the far distance. The bow-window was open, and Sir Christo- pher, stepping in, found the group he sought, examining the progress of the unfinished ceiling. It was in the same style of florid pointed Gothic as the dining-room, but more elaborate in its tracery, which was like petrified lace-work picked out with delicate and varied coloring. About a fourth of it still remained uncolored, and under this part were scafEolding, lad- ders, and tools; otherwise the spacious saloon was empty of furniture, and seemed to be a grand Gothic canopy for the group of five human figures standing in the centre. "Francesco has been getting on a little better the last day or two," said Sir Christopher, as he joined the partv: "he's a sad lazy dog, and I fancy he has a knack of sleeping as he 100 8CKNE8 OP CLERICAL LIPS. |i > m I ] i standa, with his brushes in his hands. But I must spur him on, or we may not have the scaffolding cleared away before the bride comes, if you show dexterous generalship in,jour wooing, eh, Anthony? and take your Magdeburg quickly." "Ah, sir, a siege is known to be one of the most tedious operations in war," said Captain Wybrow, with an easy smile. "Kot when there's a traitor within the walls in the shape of a soft heart. And that there will be, if Beatrice has her mother's tenderness ss well as her mother's beauty." " What do you think, Sir Christopher," said Lady Cheverel, who seemed to wince a little under her husband's reminiscences, "of hanging Guercino's 'Sibyl' oyer that door when we put up the pictures? It is rather lost in my sitting-room." "Very good, my love," answered Sir Christopher, in a tone of punctiliously polite affection ; " if you like to part with the ornament from your own room, it will show admirably here. Our portraits, by Sir Joshua, will hang opposite the window, and the ' Transfiguration ' at that end. You see, Anthony, I am leaving no good places on the walls for you and your wife. We shall turn you with your faces to the wall in the gallery, and you may take your revenge on us by and by." While this conversation was going on, Mr. Gilfil turned to Caterina and said : " I like the view from this window better than any other in the house." She made no answer, and he saw that her eyes were filling with tears; so he added: " Suppose we walk out a little; Sir Christopher and my lady seem to be occupied." Caterina complied silenUy, and they turned down one of the gravel walks that led, after many windings under tall trees and among grassy openings, to a large enclosed flower- garden. Their walk was perfectiy silent, for Maynard Gilfil knew that Caterina's thoughte were not with him, and she had been long used to make him endure the weight of those moods which she rr-jefuUy hid from others. They reached the flower-garden, and turned mechanically in at the gate that opened, through a high, thick hedge, on an expanse of brilliant color, which, after the green shades they had passed through, startled the eye like flames. The effect MB. GILPIL'8 LOTX-STORT. 101 the opposite end, cronuTb/ToZteT T^e flf" "'"""' glowing with their evenin/ «7lm,T ^' P^^°^»«> were tropes were 8endi:,«unS «?!?•' "'"'*•'" ""-^ ''«"<'■ wh«e aU was happinMs aid SLJ,?'"''-. " "^""^^ " P^" no sympathy tC wL f^ ^"^"^"y' a^d misery could find ehe wotKaong tte ^*^f :?:?' '* tf °° C"**"-- As the flowers seemfd to S.^iS'i'lrh?'"^^'^^^'^' "'"«" like eyes, knowing noth^g Sow if/I*'' T.'^"°8 «"" her wretchedness overS her rj'fw^'"'^ °^ "°'''*^°» i" before trickling 8lownr„h„;r ^u^ 't""' ^"?^ ^^ be-" accompanied wiS T^vft th"^"''"'' °°' pushed forth being close beside W,' w^sJCfZ T " T^* '"'^'^ was possessed by the LClhtr^l '"•"'» ^°' ^""^ "l*" he was helpless to^Se her t^ttZ"" T*"""^ '"'^ «»» by the idea^ that his wished we™"d£"rf^ T' ^'''*^ rather regretted the folly rf ^^0^ ! .^ ^"^ ''"''' *^«* b" their disappointment, to takely^^^^f "'V'^'^bility of Caterina, like the rest nf n. ^ «°™rt m his sympathy. which she susp^tedrb:x^ifh::?f.'"- r^-^ "tieX'^h^^rgSi;,^-- -^-'" »'^ ^- om; where she seez^ Xpfed in aelX"' °' *l «*"•«"' lAdy Cheverel entered l.,ni **™*^8 « rose. Presently bro^, and fouireTb^S JSto^h^^ '^ "^^"P*^ w/ admire the tiers of eeranii^Tr. fT' ^* P"^ '*°PP«°% "troking her totormenUraS a^L"eCtw^l:i*^. l^f^' «^» come, I want you to sin^ 7» ' ^ two deeper into love. Come, 103 SCENES OF OLBRIOAL LIFE. II HI warble him into the right sentimental lover's mood, that he may acquit himself well at Bath." He put her little ttm un- der his, and calling to Lady Cheverel, "Come, Henrietta I" led the way toward the house. The party entered the drawing-room, which, with its oriel window, corresponded to the library in the other wing, and had also a flat ceiling heavy with carving and blazonry ; but the window being unshaded, and the walls hung with full-length portraits of knights and dames in scarlet, white, and gold, it had not the sombre effect of the library. Here hung the por- trait of Sir Anthony Cheverel, who in the reign of Charles II. was the renovator of the family splendor, which had suffered some declension from the early brilliancy of that Chevreuil who came over with the Conqueror. A very imposing person- age was this Sir Anthony, standing with one arm akimbo, and one fine leg and foot advanced, evidently with a view to the gratification of his contemporaries and posterity. Tou might have taken off his splendid peruke, and his scarlet cloak, which was thrown backward from his shoulders, without annihilating the dignity of his appearance. And he had known how to choose a wife, too, for his lady, hanging opposite to him, with her sunny brown hair drawn away in bands from her mild grave face, and falling in two large rich curls on her snowy, gently sloping neck, which shamed the harsher hue and out- line of her white satin robe, was a fit mother of " large-aored " heirs. In this room tea was served; and here, every evening, as regularly as the great clock in the court-yard with deliberate bass tones struck nine. Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel sat down to pioqiiet until haU-past ten, when Mr. Gilfil read prayers to the assembled household in the chapel. But now it was not near nine, and Caterina must sit down to the harpsichord and sing Sir Christopher's favorite airs, by Oluck and Paesiello, whose operas, for the happiness of that generation, were then to be heard on the London stage. It happened th.s evening that the sentiment of these airs, " Che farb senxa Eurydiee ? " and " Ho ptrduto il bel aembiante, " in both of which the singer poors out his yearning after his lost love, oame very close to Caterina's own feeling. But her MB. OILPIL'S LOVB-BTOBT. 108 emcrtion, instead of being . hindrance to her singing, gave her iL w„,?u """'.P^i"* »' »»Periority, in which it was probable wt .^d rr^i '^^ ^«''-!"'° "^"'y whom Anthony WM to •gwnst her destiny made one stream of passion which weUed forth in the deep, rich tones of her voice Shcl.^. I never heard you smg that so weU. Once morel" ' It was repeated; and then came, "So perduto" which Sir m^tf ",' 'r"^' ^ "P'*' °' *•>« olodclr^gtine When the last note was dying out, he saidi * *' tabSycqVetT ""'-^^ "'°°'"'- ^- ''™« -t the Caterina drew out the table and placed the card.- tl,«n jnth her rapid fairy suddenness of m^oS ^w W« J^ her knees and clasped Sir Christopher's kne^ wIC,?^ stroked her oheek,^md smiled " ^* ^"^ "Caterina, that is foolish," said Ladv Cheveral "t „■ i. you would leave off those staWpUyelTLt.^""'- ' '"* She jumped up, arranged the music on the harnsiohord «.nA g^rr!frrr-"*"^^«-*«^--^"tSie"Sy' Captain Wybx-ow had been leaning near the harpsichord dnr- ' ofa at rZ* n^ *"" "^'P'"" ""^ thrownTJ^lf „7^ Mr ffilfil chl^K T""- ^'"'y »"* "<"' *~'k up a book li^hitl^ Made her way along the cloistered passages now IM 80BNX8 OF OUCBIOAL LIFE. ' I!' i ■treaming through the windows, throwing into strange light and shadow the heterogeneooa objeots that lined the loilg walls: Oreek statues and busts of Boman emperors; low cab- inets filled with ouriosities, natural and antiquarian; tropical birds and huge horns of beasts; Hindoo gods and strange shells; swards and daggers, and bits of ohain-armor; Roman lamps and tiny models of Oreek temples; and, above all these, queer old family portraits — of little boys and girls, onoe the hope of the Gheverels, with close-shaven heads imprisoned in •tiff ruffs— of faded, pink-faoed ladies, with rudimentary fea- tures and highly developed head-dre8ses^K>f gallant gentle- men, with high hips, high shoulders, and red pointed beards. Here, on rainy days. Sir Christopher and his lady took their promenade, and here billiards were played; but, in the even- ing, it was forsaked by all except Caterina — and, sometimes, one other person. She paced up and down in the moonlight, her pale face and thin, white-robed form making her look like the ghost of some former Lady Gheverel come to revisit the glimpses of the moon. By and by she paused opposite the broad window above the portico, and looked out on the long vista of turf and trees now atretching chill and saddened in the moonlight. Suddenly a breath of warmth and roses seemed to float toward her, and an arm stole gently round her waist, while a •oft hand took up her tiny finge. i. Caterina felt an electric thrill, and was motionless for one long moment; then she pushed away the arm and hand, and, turning round, lifted up to the face that hung over her, eyes full of tenderness and reproach. The fawn-like unconsciousness was gone, and in that one look were the ground tones of poor little Caterina's nature — intense love and fierce jealousy. " Why do you push me away, Tina? " said Captain Wy- ■brow in a half-whisper; "are you angry with me for what a hard fate puts upon me? Would you have me cross my uncle — who has done so n-uch for us both — in Lis dearest wish? You know I have duties— we both have duties — before which feeling must be sacrificed." "Yes, yes," said Caterina, stamping her foot and turning away her head; " don't tell me what I know al- 'ady." H MR OILFIL'S L0yB-8T0RT. :06 There wa* a voice (peeking in Caterina'i mind to which she "WT,"'!^/'* ^""^ 7'°'- '^•* '"" '^^ continually: Why did he make me love him_why did he let me know he loved me, if he knew aU the while that he couldn't brave everything or my sake?" Then love answered: "He was led on 1^ the feehng of the moment, as you have been, Cater- ma; and now you ought to help him to do what is right." Then the voice rejoined : " It was a slight matter to him. He doesn t much mind giving you up. He will soon love that beautiful woman, and forget a poor little pale thing like you " ^hus love, anger, and jealousy were struggling in that young " Besideij, Tina," continued Captain Wybrow in still gentler tones, I shaU not succeed. Miss Assher very likely prefers some one else ; and you know I have the best wUl in the world to fell. I shall come back a hapless bachelor-perhaps to find you already married to the good-looking chaplain, who U over head and ears in love with you. Poor Sir Christopher Has made up his mind that you're to have Gilfil " " Why will yon speak so? You speak from your own want of feeling. Go away from me." J' ^'.Vf ■" P"* "^ »°8«'' ''^a- All this may pass away. It B as likely as not that I may never marry any one at all. These palpitations may carry me off, and you may have the satisfaction of knowing that I shaU never be anybody's bride- groom. Who knows what may happen? I may be mv own master before I get into the bonds of holy matrimony, iid be able to choose my little singing-Mrd. Why should we distrese ourselves before the time?" "It is easy to talk so when you are not feeling," said Oatenna, the tears flowing fast. "It is bad to bear now. whatever may come after. But you don't care about my mU- ery." j •"» "Don't I, Tina?" said Anthony in his tonderest tones, again stealing his arm round her waist, and drawing her tow- ard him Poor Tina was the slave of this voice and touch, nf/? /®'*°'™^"*' Mtrospect and foreboding, vanished- all life before and after melted away in the bliss of that mo- ment, as Anthony pressed his lips to hers. II IM SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. Ctptam Wybiow thought: "Poor little Tins I it wonld make her very happy to have me. But she ia a mftd Uttle thing." At that moment a loud bell startled Caterina from her tranoe of bliM. It was the (ummong to prayers in the ohapel, and ■he hastened away, leaving Captain Wybrow to follow slowly. It was a pret^ sight, that family assembled to worship in the little ohapel, where a couple of waz-oandles threw a mild faint light on tiie figures kneeling there. In the desk was Mr. Oilfil, with his face a shadia graver than usual. On his right hand, kneeling on their red velvet ' oshions, were the mas- ter and mistress of the household, in their elderly dignified beauty. On his left, the youthful grace of Anthony and Oaterina, in all tl^e striking contrast of their coloring — he, with his exquisite outline and rounded fairness, like an Olym- pian god; she, dark and tiny, like a gypsy changeling. Then there were the domestics kneeling on red-coverod forms, — the women headed by Mrs. Bellamy, the natty little old house- keeper, in snowy cap and anron, and Mrs. Sharp, my lady's maid, of somewhat vinegar aspect and flaunting attire; the men by Mr. Bellamy the butler, and Mr Warren, Sit Christo- pher's venerable valet. A few collects from the Evening Service were what Mr. Oilfil habitually read, ending with the simple petition, "Lighten our darkness." And then they all rose, the servants turning to courtesy and bow as they went out. The family returned to the drawing- room, said good-night to each other, and dispersed — all to speedy slumber except two. Caterina only cried herself to sleep a ter the clock had struck twelve. Mr. Oilfil lay awake still longer, thinking that very likely Caterina was crying. Captidn Wybrow, having dLsmissed his valet at eleven, was soon in a soft slumber, his face looking like a fine cameo in high relief on the slightly indented pillow. KB. OILFIL'B L0VX-8T0RT. lor CHAPTER III. The lut ohaptw has givm ths diaoeming raader saffloient insight into the state of things at Cheverel Ilanor in the sum- mer of 1788. In that summer, we know, the great nation of France was agitated by oonflioting thoughts and passions, which were but the beginning of sorrows. And in our Caterina's little breast, too, there were terrible struggles. The poor bird was beginning to flutter and vainly dash its soft breast against the hard iron bars of the inevitable, and we see too phkinly the danger, if that anguish should go on heighten- ing instead of being allayed, that the palpitating heart may be fatally bruised. Meanwhile, if , as I hope, you feel some interest in Caterina and her friends at Gheveral Manor, you are perhaps asking, how came she to be there? How was it that this tiny dark- eyed child of the south, whose face was immediately suggest- ive of olive-covered hills and taper-lit shrines, came to have her home in that stately English manor-house, by the side of the blond matron, Lady Cheverel — almost as if a humming- bird were found perched on one of the elm-trees in the park, by the side of her ladyship's handsomest pouter-pigeon? Speaking good English, too, and joining in Protestant pray- ers? Surely she must have been adopted and brought over to England at a very early age. She was. During Sir Christopher's last visit to Italy with his lady, fifteen years before, they resided for some time at Milan, where Sir Christopher, who was an enthusiast for Gtothio arch- itecture, and was then entertaining the project of metamor- phosing his plain brick family mansion into the model of a Gothic manor-house, was bent on studying the details of that marble miracle, the Cathedral. Here Lady Cheverel, as at other Italian cities where she made any protracted stay, en- gaged a maestro to give her lessons in singing, for she had then not only fine musical taste, but a fine soprano voice. Those were days when very rich people used manuscript music, and many a man who resembled Jean Jacques in nothing else^ 108 80XHI8 OF OURIOAL UFM. r«Mmbl«d him in getting ■ liTeliliood " i copier la muiiqna k tantla page." Lady Cheverel having need of thit ttyiet. Maestro Albani told her he would send her upovtraeeio of his acquaintance, whose manuscript was the neatest and most cor- rect he knew of. Unhappily, the poveraeeio was not always in his best wits, and was sometimes rather slow in oonsequeno*; but It would be a work of Christian charity worthy of the beautiful Signora to employ poor Sarti. The next morning, Mrs. Sharp, then a blooming abigail of three and thirty, entered her lady's private room and said, " If you please, my lady, there's the frowsiest, shabbiest man you ever saw, outside, and he's told Mr. Warren as the sing- ing-master sent him to see yonr ladyship. Bat I think you'll hardly like him to come in here. Belike he's only a beggar." "Oh, yes, show him in immediately." Mrs. Sharp retired, muttering something about "fleas and worse." She had the smallest possible admiration for fair Ausonia and its natives, end even her profound deference for Sir Christopher and her lady could not prevent her from ex- pressing her amazement at the infatuation of gentlefolks in choosing to sojourn amoLg "Fapises, in countries where there was no getting to air a bit o' linen, and where the people smelt o' garlic fit to knock you down." However, she presently reappeared, ushering in a small, meagre man, sallow and dingy, with a restless wandering look in his dull eyes, and an excessive timidity about his deep reverences, which gave him the air of a man who had been long a solitary prisoner. Yet through all this squalor and wietohedness.there wera some traces discernible of compara- tive youth and former good looks. Lady Cheverel, though not very tender-hearted, still less sentimental, was essentially kind, and liked to dispense benefits like a goddess, who looks down benignly on the halt, the maimed, and the blind that approach her shrine. She was smitten with some compassion at the sight of poor Sarti, who struck her as the mere battered wreck of a vessel that might have once floated gayly enough on its outward voyage to the sound of pipes and tabors. She spoke gently as she pointed out to him the operatic selections sh« wished him to copy, and he seemed to sun himself in her MB. onjrn/8 LOTiaroiiT. lot Mbnni, wdiMt prti«io«, «, tluit whci. U n»de hi. nit with th. mwio-book. under hi. um, hi. bow. though not leM r.? •iwt, WM laH timid. » "w. iw r»T bright and .UWy «.d beautiful m Udy Cheverel. } /th^ SSlI^i'I""'" ",'*'"' ''",'^ trod the .Ug, in «tin and leathery thtpnmo tenore of one .hort .eaMn. He had com- pletely lost hi. voice in the foUowing winter, and had ever Jinoe been little bettor than a cracked fiddle/which U ,3 for nothing but firewood. For, like many Italian .inger. he wa. too Ignorant to toach, and if it had not been for hi. on. taUntof p^mandiip, he and hi. young helple.. wife might have .tarved. Then, jurt after their third child wm born fev« came, .wept away the .ickiy mother .d the two eldeet ohddr«, and attooked Sarti him«If, who roee fr^m hi. S* bed with enfeebled brain and muMle and a tiny baby on hi. W^'"T ! '?"' "r*^' °^^ He lodged over a frit-shop who had had children bom to her, and so had taken 7jt of tte tany yellow, b wk-eyed bambinetta, and tended Sarti him- Mlf through hi. .ickneM. Here he continued to live, earning a meagre subsistence for himself and his little one by the work of copying music, put into hi. hand, chiefly by Mae.4 Albani. dandled it, he chatted to it, living with it alone in his one room above the fruit-shop, only asking hi. landlady to take oareof the marmoset during his .hort absences in fetching and carrying home work. Customers frequenting that fruit- shop might often see the tiny Catorina seated on L floor^Ui .Lf*' " * u**P f P**"^' ''^"^ " '" >>" doJigtt to kick :utf'h~iS" X'"^"*^' '"'^ '"'^"«-. - • ^ basfa. ^metimes, however, Sarti left his little one with uiother wW^J. 1 P'°*«?*'r- ^^ "" ""^ ™8ular in his devotions, w^ch he paid thnce a week in the great cathedral, oarry^ Catenna with him. Here, when the high morning «mTJ warmmg the myriad glittering pinnsoles irithout, ^i strag- S"Sf "^f ^t "^"^ 8'°<»° "iftin, the shadow of a mi. with a ohUd on his arm might be seen flitting acros. the more I iio •osNM or olhuoal ixn. I ■ I ttationary iliadovt of pillar and malUaa, and making its wagr toward a litti* tinial Madonna hangirj in a rotlrod spot nMur tb* oboir. Amid all the aablimitiM of the mighty oathadral, poor Sarti had fixed on thii tiniel Madonna aa the tymbo! of dirina meroy and protection — juit ai a child, in the pretence of a great landioape, leea none of the gloriea of wood and aky, but (eta it! heart cm a floating feather or insect that happena to be on a lerel with it* eye. Here, then, Sarti worshipped and prayed, setting Oaterina on the floor by his side; and now and then, when the cathedral lay near some place where he had to call, and did not like to take her, he would leave her there in front of the tinsel Madonna, where she would sit, per- feotly good, amusing herself with low crowing noises and see- iawingi of her tii^y body. And when Sarti came back, he always found that the Blessed Mother had taken good care of Caterina. That was briefly the history of Sarti, who fulfilled so well the orders Iiady Cheverel gave him, that she sent him away again with a stock of new work. But this t^me, week after week passed, and he neither reappeared nor sent home the muaio intrusted to him. Lady Cheverel began to be anx- ious, and was thinking of sending Warren to inquire at the address Sarti had given her, when one day, as she was equipped for driving out, the valet brought in a small piece of paper, which, he said, had been left for her ladyship by a man who was carrying fruit. The paper contained only three tremulous lines, in Italian : "Will the Eccelentissima, for the love of Ood, have pity on a dying man, and come to him? " Lady Cheverel recognized the handwriting as Sarti's in spite of its tremulousness, and, going down to her carriage, orderad the Milanese coachman to drive to Strada Quinquagesima, Numero 10. The coach stopped in a dirty, narro^^ street opposite La Fazzini's fruit-shop, and that large speci aen of womanhood immediately presented herself at the door, to the atreme disgust of Mrs. Sharp, who remarked privately to Mi. Warren that La Pazzlni was a " hijeous ^xirpis." The fruit- woman, however, was all smiles and deep courtesies to the Gcoelentissima, who, not very well understanding her Milanese MR. OILni'a LOVI.0TORT 111 dlaUot, abfaMTtotMl thaeoDTttMtkm by Mking to b« iImwii at OBoe to Bignor Swti. La Pauini prwMdad her cp th* dark narrow italra, and opMied a door throafh wbioh ihe begged h« ladythip to entn. DbwiUy oppodte the door lav Sarti. on a low Diittable UA. HU eye. war* glaz«l, and no morol ment indioated that he waa oooioioaa of their entrance. On the foot of the beJ waa Mated a tiny child, appareoUy not three yean old, her head covered by a linen cap, her feet clothed with leather booti, abore which her little yellow less jhowed thin and naked. A frock, made of what had onoe been a gay flowered lUk, was her only other garment. Her large dark eye* shone from out her queer little face, like two precious stones in a grotesque image carved in old ivory. She held an empty medioine-botUe in her hand, and was amusing herseU with putting the cork in and drawing it out again, to hear how it would pop. La Pazzini went up to the bed and said, "Eooo la nobilis- sima donnal" but direoUy after screamed out, "Holy motherl he is deadi " It waa so. The entreaty had not been 8<>nt in time for Sarti to carry out his project of asking the great English Ir-^y to take oare of his Caterina. That was the thought which haunted his feeble brain as soon as he began to fear that his illness would end in death. She had wealth— she was kind— she would surely do something for the poor orphan. And so, at last, he sent that scrap of paper which won the fulfilment of his praye', though he did not live to utter it. Lady Chevarel gave La Pazaini money that the last decencies might be paid to tte dead wan, and carried away Catorina, meauing to con- suit Sir Chnstopher as to what should bo done with her Even Mrs. Sharp had been so smitten with pity by the scene she had witnessed when she was summoned upstairs to fetch Gatorma, as to shed a sraaU tear, though she was not at aU subject to that weakness; indeed, she abstained from it on principle, because, as she often said, it was known to be the worst thing in the world for the eyes. On the way hack to her hotel, Lady Cheverel turned over variou^ projects in her mind regarding Caterina, but at last one gained the preference over aU the rest. Why should they 'if J 113 80BNXS OF CLEBIOAL LIFS not take the child to England, and bting uet np there? They had been mairied twelve years, yet Gheverel Manor was cheered by no children's Toioes, and the old house would be all the bet- ter for a little of that music. Besides, it would be a Christian work to train this little Papist into a good Protestant, and graft as much English fruit as possible on the Italian stem. Sir Christopher listened to this plan with hearty acquies- cence. He loTed children, and took at once to the little black- eyed monkey — his name for Caterina all through her short life. But neither he nor Lady Gheverel had any idea of adopting her as their daughter, and giving her their own rank in life. They were much too English and aristocratic to think of any- thing so romantic. Nol the child would be brought up at Cheverel Manor ta&proUgie, to be ultimately useful, perhaps, in sorting worsteds, keeping accounts, reading aloud, and other- wise supplying the place of spectacles when her laiTyship'seyes should wax dim. So Mrs. Sham had to procure new clothes, to replace the linen cap, flowered frock, and leathern boots ; and now, strange to say, little Caterina, who had suffered many unconscious evils in h^r existence of thirty moons, first began to know conscious troubles. "Ignorance," says Ajax, "is a painless evil " ; so, I shoidd think, is dirt, considering the merry faces that go along with it. At any rate, cleanliness is sometimes a painful good, as any one can vouch who has had his face washed the wrong way, by a pitiless hand with a gold ring on the third finger. If you, reader, have not known that initia- tory anguish, it is idle to expect that you will form any ap- proximate conception of what Caterina endured under Mrs. Sharp's new dispensation of soap-and-water. Happily, this purgatory came presently to be associated in her tiny brain with a passage straightway to a seat of bliss — the sofa in Lady Cheverel's sitting-room, where there were toys to be broken, a riue was to be had on Sir Christopher's knee, and a spaniel of resigned temper was prepared to undergo small tortures with- out flinching. MR GIUIL'8 I-0VB.8T0BT. 113 CHAPTER IV. Manor were sending nnnwontfT ^^""y" °* ^^"'"^l were awaiting in rx!iZen7ri^°'o^ Zl ''" ""^'"'^ mistress after a two veara' ^wlf « ^^" ""'*" ""^ ment of Mrs. Belw th«^ w <*'«'"«"« a^astonish- lifted a little bS^^^k Sud « T' "'"" *"'• ^"^•» was Mrs. Sharp's senseof .,,!! •• I ** """age, and great as she detaikrcrWsTrr'r"*""'^'^"!"'™^. comments, to the "5^ th «? ^' "^^^^P^'^ed with copiou^ they were'takiTg a^I^rtSS: T"^*" *^' *^«°^«' ■» housekeeper's r«,m ^ "* «^8 •^''^^ i° the the daik ohSJr^af ioZlhrfLTotth'''"''' "^ large wooden entablature bparinJZ ""t: " °* *""* ""^^^ » English letters, "S S /n^hr"**'*^*'^ ""^^ ^ °W beyond the pa^, wTo f^i"^v''S"<'f *•>« *« I'ile they eat Bit1o^«n^w"'T7^ *° *"™ "y Christian's stom'acT But for all that-an' for aU as the trouble in resoeot o' washxn' and managin' bas fell upo' me through Z^L I can't say but what 1 think as my Lady I' sir CrSr"^ Z t "fi*^^« by ahinnicent child L do«n't kntw its nghthand from it, left, i' bringing it where^t°ll W ^ speak ummat totter nor gibberish, and be brought npTthe true religion. For as for them furrin churches as Sir Cristifer IS so unaccountable mad after, wi' pictures o' ml^' wom« a-showmg themselves just for all the world as God madT'e^ WaJr 1 , / i"^"' "■"'* foreigners, however," said Mr. Warren, who liked to provoke the gardener, "for Sir Cluisto oiw"""'" "'"'''^'^ ^'- ««'W. inalarm. "What rt.~7'!f'" '^«^«'«,„ ci.!^?" "'""'' *°'"»** "«' '•^"'a- before I come back a™in? t get me." ' ""* Prowise not to for- m 80IIIB8 or OUCRIOAL Lin. With Mayiurd tha boyiah aflaetion had inacoaiUj grown into ardent love. Among all tiia many Unda of first 1ot«s that which begina in ohildiah oompanionahip is the strongest and most enduring: when paaaion comes to unite iU force to long affection, lore is at ito spring-tide. And Maynard Gilfil's lore was of a kind to make him prefer being tormented by Caterina to any pleasure, apart from her, which the most benevolent magician could have devised for him. It is the way with those tall, large-limbed men, from Samson downward. As for Tina, the little minx was perfectly well aware that May- nard was her slave ; he was the one person in the world whom she did aa she pleased with; and I need not tell you that this was a symptom of her being perfectly heart-whole so far as he was concerned : for n passionate woman's love is always over- shadowed by fear. Maynard GUfil did not deceive himself in his interpretation of Caterina's feelings, but he nursed the hope that some time or other she would at least care enough for him to accept his love. So he waited patientiy for the day when he might ven- ture to say, " Caterina, I love you 1 " You see, he would have been content with very little, being one of those men who fua through life without making the least clamor about themselves ; thinking neither the cut of his coat, nor the flavor of his soup, nor the precise depth of a servant's bow, at aU momentous. He thought— foolishly enough, as lovers toUl think— that it was a good augury for him when he came to be domesticated at Cheverel Manor in the quality of chaplain there, and curate of a neighboring parish; judging falsely, from his own case, that habit and affection were the likeliest avenues to love. Sir Christopher satisfied several feelings in installing Maynard as chaplain in hU house. He liked the old-fashioned dignity of that domestic appendage; he liked his ward's companionship; and, as Maynard had some private fortune, he might take life easily in that agreeable home, keeping his hunter, and observ- ing a mild regimen of clerical duty, until the Cumbermoor living should fall in, when he might be settled for life in the neighborhood of the Manor. " With Caterina for a wife, too, " Sir GhristophCT soon began to think ; for though the good Bar- onet was not at all quick to suspect what was unpleasant and ■R. OILPIL-B LOTK-STORT. 123 aovet«.l with his own plans; ud he had first guessed, and iroT^p^-riTfearwXt^^^^^^^^ thiJ^j"'"' r" ''^'™»*«'«M '"•'• arising, which, though they made no change in Sir Christopher's pla^L and proewc^ converted Mr. Oilfil's hopes into anxieties, and madeTt^le^ 1 r^.* ^'^^ '""' ^■'"«"'"''' ^""^ "« never lUely to S his, but that It was giver entirely to another .„^°'.!L*'^'~' '" Caterina's chUdhood, there had been another boy.v„.tor at the Manor, youageWhan M.ynard^ fll-a beau«inl boy with brown ourl. and splendid clothes, on whom Catenna had looked with shy admiration. This wm Anthony Wybrow, the «,nof Sir Christopher's younger sisto" and chosen he« of C. everel Manor. The Baronet h^ ^cr^ ficed a large sum, and even straitened the resources by XL he was to carry out his architectural schemes, for the sile of heir-moyed to the step, I am sorry to say, by an implacable quarrel with his elder sister, for a power of CivTne«. wm oTa3 '" Christopher's virtues, "^t length, f^ZaZ of Anthony's mother, when he was no longer a curly-headed b^, but a taU young man, with a captain's commission, Che^ e^l Manor became M. home too, whenever he was absent fr^L his regiment. Caterina was then a little woman, betwwn sixteen and seventeen, and I need not spend ma^' words i^ ^plaining what you perceive to be the most natur^ ^ig ^ There was little company kept at the Manor, and Captain Wybrew wou^d have been much duller if Cat^rina had n^t been there. It was pleasant to pay her attentions-to speak to her in gentle tones, to see he- little flutter of pleasured g ance of her dark eyes, wh.n he praised her singii^rL^g at her side over the piano. Pleasant, too, to out ouHhaf chaplain with his large calvesl What idle mTZ\Ti^. IM •oiHis or ouraioAL uwm. II •tend th* tMBptMion of • woman to fMoinata, ud wotliw man to aeUpMr— MpeoiaUy when it ii qaito elaw to hinialf that h« BMana no miaohief, and shall laar* eTarything to ooma right again bjr and hj. At tha end of eighteen month*, how- ever, daring which Captain Wybrow had spent muoh of hit time at the Manor, he found that matton had reached a point which he had not at all contemplated. Oentle tones had led to tender words, and tender words had called forth a response of looks which made it impossible nut to carry on the erucendo of love-making. To find one's self adored by a little, graoe- fol, dark-eyed, sweet-singing woman, whom no one need de* spise, is an agreeable sensation, comparable to smoking the finest Latakia, and also i.<'-)wed him with that capability. She had given him an admirable figure, the whitest of hands, the most delicate of nostrils, and a large amount of serene self-satisfaction ; but, as if to save such a delicate piece of work from any risk of being shattered, she had guarded him from the liability to a strong emotion. There was no list of youthful misdemeanors on record against him, and Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel thought him the best of nephews, the most satisfactory of heirs, full of grate- ful deference to themselves, and, above all things, guided by a sense of duty. Captain Wybrow always did the tiling easi- est and most agreeable to him from a sense of duty : he dressed expensively, because it wat a duty he owed to his position ; from a sense of duty he adapted himself to Sir Christopher's iiiflezible will, which it would have been tioablesonie as well as useless to resist; and, being of a delicate constitution, he MR. OILUL'S LOTX-STORT. US t«*OM.ofhlili«dlhfco««i«iMofdiHy. HUhMlthwM tiie only point on whioh b. gave anxiety to bis fnendi; and it WM owing to tbU tbat Sir Chri.topb« wl.h«i to ■<• bia nephew ewly married, the more «o a. a match after the Bar- onet a own heart appeared immediately attainable. Anthony bad aeen and admired Miu Auher, the only child of a lady who had been Sir Christopher's earliest love, but who, u things wiU happen in this world, had married another baro- net instead of him. Miss Asaher's father was now dead, and she was in possession of a pretty estate. If, as was probable, she should prove susceptible to the merits of Anthony's per- •on and character, nothing could make Sir Christopher so happy as to see a m--riage whioh might be expected to secure the inhentanoe of Cheverel Manor from getting into the wrong hands. Anthony had already been kindly received by Lady Assher as the nephew of her early friend; why should he not go to Bath, where she and her daughter were then residing, loilowup the acquaintance, wd win a handsome, well-born and sufficiently wealthy bride? Sir Christopher's wishes were communicated to her nephew who at onc.1 intimated his willlngnness to comply with them -from a sense of duty. Caterina was tenderly informed by her lover of the sacrifice demanded from them both ; and thrw days afterward ooonrred the part;ing scene you have witnessed m^ toe gaUery, on the eve of Captain Wybrow's departure for CHAPTER V. Tm mexorable ticking of the dock is like the throb of pain to sensations made keen by a sickening fear. And so itis with the great clockwork of nature. Daisies and buttercups give way to the brown waving grasses, tinged with the warm red sorrel; the wavmg grasses are swept away, and the mead- ows he hke emeralds set in the bushy hedgerows; the tawny- tipped com begins to bow with the weight of the full ear- the reapers ai bending amongst it, and it soon stands i^ sheaves; then, presenUy, the patches of yeUow stubble He ii ijll SCJBNBB OP CUBICAL LOT!. Side V Bide with streaks of dark-red earth, which the r,l„n„l. i8 turning up in preparation for the ne^eThed aeed ^ it Sflrr/™"!-^*"*^*" '^"'y- '^'"^ tot: hjpyistiie a^pivi reir^L^^neSrhZUTV^ ^' w^n t.^3hadow Of .z ..^zit7.z;iX:':z^ S..S?r<.r*"^ hasty that summer of 1788 seemed to Caterinal J Sh wTr "'^.'^^-f «"»«. "^d the berries on the 1^1 tam-ash were more impatient to redden, and brin^ on th« »n ^e/A*:/''"""''' *" '''' to face' with he7mlse>^,rd tha^Lal'^A" T** °^J"'y' Captain Wybrow had written word that Lady Assher and her daughter were about to fly from Z heat and gayety of Bath to the shady quiet of their Xe at Farle>gh, and that he was invited t^ join the p^ty " both the ladies, and gave no hint of a rival; so that Sir Chr^ topher was more than usually bright and cheerful after re^^g them. At length, toward the close of August, came thT^- nounoement that Captain Wybrow was an accept^ lover ^d between the two families, it was understood that in Septem- ber Lady Assher and her daughter would pay a vish to Ch^- erel Manor, when Beatrice would make «ie acquaintance of her futile relatives, and all needful arrangements coSd be du«iussed. Captain Wybrow would remain at F^S t^l then, and accompany the ladies on their journey todo bv w«v-n7^' «^«^y ""^/tCheverel Manor had something to do by way of preparmg for the visitors. Sir Christooher was occupied in consultations with his steward and lawyer ^d m givmg orders to every one else, especially in sS' ^f Fr^cesco to finish the saloon. Mr. Gilfil had the r"s^ns° bUity of procuring a lady's horse, Miss Assher being ^JZt rider. Lady Cheverel had unwonted eaUs to make ^d S^- tations to deliver. Mr. Bates's turf, and gravel and flowlr beds were always at such a point of neatner^d lisSX nothmg extraordinary could be done in the warden «4pt a MB. GILFIL'S LOVB-STORT Jjy lo^^XiS :S iTflJl^- ^-^ to «" -P the would complete the set of embmiHl^ ^ --iii' -cushion whieh room, Ladf Cheverel4 ;rtnf^,r'"/~ *^« -^"'i"*- -orthy bitof furniture S M^r 'o^^v" ""'y "°*«- she «at with cold lips and TLw.. v *' *^" embroideiy this miserable senaaUo'tl^gCt"^.''?'''^. *''''»W»1 ^"^ counteract the tendency to^;lv"t'''''T '""""^ ^o and solitude. She wa« mn,f^ ■ J ™'»med with night approached he^ tZC^IJ^''^^,"'^ T".*" ^" Chr^topher more ekstio than ever^dt '^'' T ''"«''*" '"'^ 1>« step -St leaden or churll^' sTuls coX"^ *° him tb,t om^ ^l and exulting in a world where ev«rlf),^ otherwise than brisk old gentlemani he had gone tC^l°/ T' '^ '«"• ^^ the power of his wiU, and no^s ti,f f ""'" ^^-^ed with and Cheverel Manor 'would Z theS''^ ^'^ T"^"*^^' whom he might even vet liv^fJ T^ ^ * grand-nephew, at least the lownThrchL X no^^ '""* ''""'' ^^'^^ at sixty. "^"y "ot? one is stUl young CaS^^'"^'"^'''' ^ ^-^« "omething playfm to «.y to th:mS;srs^?,™i^^Tb^ pretty gown and a new ribbon vZ' . * ""* y°" •'»^« a russet, though you are a ^ing^W » 0°' "t •^'^•^ ^ your turn to be courted next, tZ B..^ °',f '»>»?«. "" is naughty proud airs. I must h«™ 'nr ^.°° ' y°" 1««"» ^OJ Caterina's affection foT?^e oHBa^^? Y °^ ^"y-" moa up a smile as he stroked h^T" ^"^^ ^"'^ ^ ^'^■ kindly, but that was the ^nl. f^l^ '"'^ ^~k«d »t her difficult not to brto?:cr"L;"'L;'rt '"^^" '*«■«' tion and presence were lew tev^n^^^u^?"™' ""^n^oraa- more than calm satisfaTtiorin Sl^^ ' ^^^"^'^ ''^* "° she was further sobered by a Umrtlr'""*' and besides, ill 138 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. tatvelB. Lady Cheverel would have died rather than confess n ? / ! 'T^''" ' ^^P ^"P*"* ^"^ '"' """'-l ^ disappointed JhaSn *" "**"" "^""^ °* ^""^^^ caUed her so w"' ^'^i^"*"^"* Caterina through these days with mixed feelings. Her suffering went to his heart; bu( even for her sake he was gad that a love which could never come to good should be no longer fed by false hopes; and how could he helpsaying to himself : "Perhaps, after a while, Caterina wiU Sen " ^"'"^ '''~"' *^' cold-hearted pupp^Ind At length the much-expected day arrived, and the brightest of September suns was lighting up the yellowing lime-trees as about five o^olock Lady Assher's caJage dr^ve under tl; portico. Catenna, seated at work in her own room, heard the ro mg of the wheels followed presently by the opening ^d shutting of doors, and the sound of voices in the corrUors. Eemembermg that the dinner-hour was six, md that L^Jy S^l? f T"^ her to be in the drawing-room early, she started up to dress, and was delighted to find herself feeling ^oi^ST! "^u '*™°«- Curiosity to see Miss Assher-thf thought that Anthony was in the house-the wish not to look unattractive, were feelings that brought some color to her lips and made It easy to attend to her toilet. They would ask L In^ ^V^TT^' '"'* "^^ ''"'^•^ "°8 well. Miss Assher should not thmk her utterly insignificant. So she put on her gray silk gown and her cherry-colored ribbon with as much care as If she had been herself the betrothed; not forgeS LldH n^"°^P'^'•''"■""8«'''^•"''' Sir ChristophViad told Lady Cheverel to give her, because Tina's little ears were so pretty. "dad Quick as she had been, she found Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel in the drawing-room chatting with Mr. GUfil, and tellmg him how handsome Miss Assher was, but now entirely unlike her mother-apparently resembling her father only Aha I said Sir Christopher, as he turned to look at Cat- enna^ "what do yon think of this, Maynard? Did you ever has been made out of a bit of my lady's, hasn't it? It down't '%" If' Is MB. GILPIL'8 LOVE-STORY. 129 Lady Cheverel^ too, serenely radiant in the assuranoe a sin- gle glance had given her of Lady Assher's inferiority smZ approval, and Caterina was in one of those moods 7 seS session and indifference which come as the ebb-tide tetw^n the s ruggles of passion. She retired to the piano, Tnd busied herself with arranging her music, not at all insensible to ^e thmlung that, the next time the door opened, Captain Wy brow f^7^^ \ ^T^ ^ """"^ ^' '^^ «■« «=«°t of roses floated Zming^' • "^ ^"^ ^° y°" ^"^ Y°'' '•«'' q"ite spe^ and look with such perfect nonchalance. Ah I he was ^hl7f^/? r '''t'"""' ""^ «'^« *" '"""^--ber anything of her folly ;-" as if he could show any feeling then 1 " This mr„<^ fW T*T.°*r"''"^ ^^ " '°°« ^*«"»1 the few mo- ments that elapsed before the door opened again, and her own attotion, as well as that of aU the rest, wm absorbed by the entrance of the two ladies. "7 me T> J2^'^^f' f """ '•"* """^ "'""^'"8, from the contrast she presented to her mother, a round-shouldered, middle-si^ woman^ who had once had the transient pink-and-white beauty ^ a blonde, with ill-defined features and early embonpoint Miss Assher was tall, and gracefully though substantially formed, oariymg herself with an air of mingled graciousLess and self-confidence; her dark-brown hair, unl,uchT~w- ,„™i'„n''Tl"'- ^".'''^ """^ -■°™'^ ^" ^'"^ """i falling behind in long thick ringlets nearly to her waist. The brilliant oar- mme tmt of her well-rounded cheeks, and the finely out out- r,w "" ''^"'^* ""'"^ P™'""*'* "" ii^P'ession of splendid ^^^' ^.u?'v°* ""'"""'"Place brown eyes, a narrow fore- ottj ^ '"'P'- f^' '" ^ inuurning,'and thedead bCk of het crape dress, relieved here and there by jet ornaments. 130 8CBHB8 OP CLERICAL LIPB. gare the fnUest efFeot to her complexion, and to the rounded whiteness of her arms, bare from the elbow. The fiat cmp d « P"''. J"8t after we passed the bndge, particularly fine," said Miss Assher, inter- posing rather eagerly, as if she feared her mother might be making infelicitous speeches, "and the pleasure of the first fehmpse was all the greater because Anthony would describe nothing to U8 beforehand. He would not spoU our first im- pressions by raising false ideas. I long to go over the house. Sir Christopher, and learn the history of all your architectural !^Tl' ' ^"^ -^Aony says have cost you so much time and study." "Take care how you set an old man talking about the past, my dear," said the Baronet; "I hope we shaU find some^ing pleasantor for you to do than turning over my old plans and pictures. Our friend Mr. GUfil here has found a beautiful mare for you, and yon can scour the country to your heart's content. Anthony has sent us word what a horsewoman you Miss Assher turned to Mr. Gilfil with her most beaming smUe, and expressed her thanks with the elaborate graoious- nees of a person who means to be thought charming, and is sure of success. "Pray do not thank me," said Mr. Gilfil, "till you have tried the mare. She has been ridden by Lady Sara Linter MH. OIUIL'S LOVE-STORY. 181 IL?/. '"•'",,""' ^*"' *•""""' ^y'" *"'« "V »»t b« like anotter'g m horses, any more than in other matters " While this oonyer«ition was passing. Captain Wybrow was leanmg apmst the mantelpiece, contenting himseU with re- spondmg from under his indolent eyelids to the glances Miss Assher was constantly directing toward him as she spoke She IS very much in love with him," thought Caterina. Bui lonr'"^'^ 'It^ *^J'* ^^""^ ""'»'"•"' P-""^" i° hi' atten- tions. She thought, too, that he was looking paler and more languid than usual. "If he didn't love her v^r^ Lp^r midSppy^ '* '^' ^^ ^ «^ ^o see Sir cfris- During dinner there was a litUe incident which confirmed these thoughts. When the sweets were on the table, there was a mould of jeliy just opposite Captain Wybrow, and being mclmed to toke some himself, he first invited Miss Assher who colored, and said, in rather a sharper key than jdlj?" ^°" °°* ^""^ ^^ ^^" *^« ^"^ I °«^«' take "Don't you?" said Captain Wybrow, whose perceptions were not acute enough for him to notice the difierenceof a semitone. " I should have thought you were fond of it. There was always some on the table at Farleigh, I thiik " dis'likM "'^°°'* ""^ *° '*''* """''' ^'*"" ^ "y ^^'^ """J "I'm too much possessed by the happy thought that you like me » was the ^.-officio reply, in sUre^ tones. Sir ri'if ?''"°^* v*" r'°ticed by every one but Caterina. Sir Christopher was listenmg with polite attention to Lady Assher s history of her last man-cook, who was iirst-rate at gravies, and for that reason pleased Sir John-he was so par- ticular about his gravies, was Sir John: and so they kept the ™shS V ^«™ ^'^'"R "* B»P«rt the bloodhound, who had pushed his great head under his master's arm, and ;as taking Ba^^nZ plaS' '^'"""'' "^^ ""*°^ '' *'"' '«''*«'^'= °' ^' When the ladies were in the drawing-room again, Lady ^ 9§-^Wm!^^miM^m h isa SOBMBB OP OLBBIOAL LOT!. '-fil Aiiher was toon deep iu a statement to Lady Chererel of her views about burying people in woollen. " To be Bu_-e, you must have a woollen dress, because it's the taw, you know; but that need hinder no one from putting Imen underneath. I always used to say, ' If Sir John dijd to-morrow, I would bury him in his shirt ' ; and 1 did. And let me advise you to do so by Sir Christopher. Tou never saw Sir John, T^y Cheverel. He was a large tall man, with shirt^*""''"' ''"'* ^**''"*' ""* '"""^ particular about hU Miss Assher, meanwhile, had seated herself by Caterina. and, with that smiling affability which seems to say, "I am reaUynol at all proud, though you might expect it of me," "Anthony tells me you sing so very beautifully. I hope we shall hear you this evening." "Oh yes," said Caterina, quietly, without smiling: "I al- ways smg when I am wanted to sing. " " I envy you such a charming talent Do you now, I have no ear; I cannot hum the smallest tune, and I delight in music so. Is it not unfortunate? But I 8ha.n have quite a treat whUe I am here; Captain Wybrow says you will give us some music every day." "I should have thought you wouldn't care about music if you had no ear," said Caterina, becoming epigrammatic bv force of grave simplicity. "Oh, I assure you, I dote on it; and Anthony is so fond of 4ti It would be so delightful if I could play and sing to him- though he says he Ukes me best not to sing, because it doesn't bdong to his Idea of me. What style of music do you like '' I don't know. I like all beautiful music." " And are you as fond of riding as of music? " •' No; I never ride. I think I should be very frightened." Oh, no! indeed you would not, after a little practice. I have never been in the least timid. I think Anthony is more afraid for me than I am for myself; and since I have been nding with him, T have been obliged to be more oareful. be- cause he is BO nervous about me." ^'Zns^' WJ. GILnii'B LOVI-STORT. 1S8 jhe would go away and not talk to n>e. She only want. m. to admire her good-nature, and to talk about Anthony " SMti seems a stupid litUe thing. Those musical people often z nJ? pr:tt;:f. '-"'''' "^ ' '^^'^■' ^^^'^^^ ■*• a«.^n?^"{ ^V'^''' r^""" ^"^y ^'"''" «'^l«l her daughter's attention to the embroidered cushions, and Miss Assherfwalk! Chev«J K^^??*" '"*•' "• '^" '» conversation with Lady Cheverel about tapestry and embroidery in general, while her thl' ni'" ^°" "V^^ """^ '^"*^^ '^Be'," was of coune ^«vTh ''rf?"''-^ "'^" ^'^'^'' "^8 «> beautifully. I travelled m Italy with Sir John when we were first m Jried, ^d we went to Venice, where they go about in gondolas, y^ t^r* ,J°\ °° * ^'^ P""*^"'- ^ »"«• No more wiU Bea- ^^'r fern^ J'^'' ^"1.' ^^^ ^"' "•">" """'^ look all the last maid dressed it much better than this; but, do you know she wore Beatrce's stockings before they' went torew^l! and we couldn't keep her after that, could we? " .(t^^T^ fooepting the question as a mere bit of rhetorical fln^r*^. '* superfluous to reply, till Lady Assher re- peated " Could we now? " as if Time's sanction were essen- tial to her repose of mind. After a faint " No " she went on. U, !r "?° ^""T *'°"blesome, and Beatrice is so particu- lar, you can't imagine. I often say to her, 'My de^y^ s^ ,>fif^K l°''°°: '^'"'* ^"'y P"™ "he has on- o^ sure It fits her beautifully now-but it has been unmade and made up agam twice. But she is like poor Sir John-he Was ~verypart.cular about his own thin^was Sir John? L Lady Cheverel particular?" y^^"'- ^"* ""• «^"P ha" been her maid twenty her health n. so delicate; and she is so obstinate, she wiU not SCOENBS OP OUnUCAL LIFE. take bitters •■ I want her. Ym look delioate, now. Let me recommend you to take oamomila tea io a moming,- faating. Beatrice is so strong and healthy, she never takes any medi- cine ; but if I had had twenty girls, and they had been deli- oate, I should have given them all camomile tea. It strength- ens the constitution beyond anything. Now, will you promise me to take camomile tea? " " Thank you ; I'm not at all ill, " said Caterina. " I've al- ways been pale and thin." Lady Assher was sure camomile tea would make all the dif- ference in the world— Caterina must see if it wouldn't and then went dribbling on like a leaky shower-bath, until the early entrance of the gentlemen created a diversion, and she fastened on Sir Christopher, who probably began to think that, for poetical 'purposes, it would be better not to meet one's first love again, after a lapse of forty years. Captain Wybrow, of course, joined his aunt and Miss As- sher, and Mr. Gilfil tried to relieve Caterina from the awkward- ness of sitting aloof and dumb, by telling her how a friend of his had broken his arm and staked his horse that morning, not at all appearing to heed that she hardly listened, and was looking toward the other side of the room. One of the tor- tures of jealousy is, that it can never txim away its eyes from the thing that pains it. By-and-by every one felt the need of a relief from chit-chat — Sir Christopher perhaps the most of all — and it was he who made the acceptable proposition — " Come, Tina, are we to have no music to-night before we sit down to cards? Your ladyship plays at cards, I think?" he added, recollecting himself, and turning to Lady Assher. "Oh yes I Poor dear Sir John would have a whist-table every night." Caterina sat down to the harpisohord at once, and had no sooner begun to sing than she perceived with delight that Cap- tain Wybrow was gliding toward the harpsichord, and soon standing in the old place. This consciousness gave fresh strength to her voice; and when she noticed that Miss Assher presently followed him with that air of ostentatious admira- MB. GILFIL-8 LOVISTORT. 136 Idon which Wong, to the aUnoe of real enjoyment, her olo.- tnomphant contempt. n "7^-^^lJ'^ *" '" •****"■ ''~'«' *^»n e^«. Caterina," said «?r„f!^P M,.8 Hibbert's small piping that we nsed to be glad of at Farleigh, is it not, Beatrice? " a»!^!'"^r^ '* '"• "^°" "" ' ■""* ""^•We creature. Miss h^rf'^"^''~'^J ^ ""^ ""^^ y°" Caterina? for I have heard Anthony speak of you so often, I seem to know yon quite well. You wiU let me call you Caterina? " me"Tii!"'' ^"^^ °"* ™''' "* C«t«™a, only when they oaU "Come, come, more singing, more singing, little monkey," Sir Christopher called out from the other side of the rJm We have not had half enough yet. " Caterina was ready enough to obey, for while she was sine- ing she was queen of the room, and Miss Assher was reduced to grimacmg admiration. Alas! you see what jealousy was doing in this poor young soul. Caterina, who had pas8«i her Me as a little unobtrusive singiuR-bird, nestling so fondly under the wings that were outst ohed for her, her heart beatmg only to the peaceful rhythm of love, or fluttering with some easily stifled fear, had begun to know the fierce pflpita- tions of triumph and hatred. f f" When the singing was over. Sir Christopher and Ladr Cheverel sat down to whist with Lady Assher and Mr. Gilfil and Caterina placed herself at the Baronet's elbow, as if ti watch the game, that she might not appear to thrust herself on the pair of lovers. At first she was glowing with her little taumph and felt the strength of pride; but her eye would steal to the opposite side of the fireplace, where Captain Wy- brow had seated himself close to Miss Assher, and was le^- ing with his arm over the back oi the chair, in the most lover- Wee position. Caterina began to feel a choking sensation. She could see, almost without looking, that he was taking up hw arm to esamiae her bracelet; their heads were bending close together, her curls touching his cheek-now he was put- ting his hps to her hand. Caterina felt her cheeks bum-she fMj£^ lae 80UIB8 OF OLSRIOAL LIFE. oould lit no longer. She got up, pretended to be gliding about in seareb of lomething, and at length Blipped out of the room. Outoide, she took a oandle, and, hurrying along the pas- sage and up the itairs to her own room, looked the door. "Ob, I cannot bear it, I cannot bear it I " the poor thing burst out aloud, clasping her little fingers, and pressing them back against her forehead, as if she wanted to break them. Then she walked hurriedly up and down the room. "And this must go on for days and days, and I mnst She looked about nervously for something to clutch. There was a muslin kerchief lying on the table; she took it up aud tore It into shreds as she walked up and down, and then pressed it into hard balls in her hand. " And Anthony,* she thought, " he can do this without car- ing for what I feel. Oh, he cua forget everything: how he used to say he loved me— how he used to take my hand in hU as we walked— how he used to stand near me in the evenings for the sake of looking into my eyes." " Oh, it is cruel, it is cruel I " she burst out again aloud, as ail those love-moments in the past returned upon her. Then the tears gushed forth, she threw herself on her knees by the bed, and sobbed bitterly. She did not know how long she had been there, till she was startled by the prayer-bell; when, thinking Lady Cheverel might perhaps send some one to inquire after her, she rose, and began hastily to undress, that there might be no possibUity of her going down again. She had hardly unfastened her hair, and thrown a loose gown about her, before there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Sharp's voice said-" Miss Tina, mv lady wants to know it you're ill." Cat«rina opened the door and said, "Thank you, dear Mrs Sharp; I have a bad headache; please toll my lady I felt it come on after singing." "Then, goodness me I why aren't you in bed, instead o' standing shivering there, fit to oateh your death? Come, let me fasten up your hair and tuck you up warm." "Oh no, thank you; I ahaU reaUy be in bed very soon. .>. ^ Jr,T% MH. OILFIL'B LOTE-STORT. I37 ^-nigH d-, 8h«py, don't ^U; i ,uj ^e good, „d ing he, former ohargr'n b^tLin/^' ""*,,"""*«» o" "- the poor CUd had wl,.^ r^ee^^S'. r^'"'''' '•''"' heS L"" :"Ki^ f «^- '-^^t'' "-at boating seekulg relief in the CeS^fTrT' °' '*'* "«»''•' -f^e'^r b/tLeTarSU^^ 1^*" r^^ and the wmow^b^^f'J J'?^'''''* sympathetic cold for the mad p^^slon 1 SS fdt'w^er^*"' '"""'°"^'* ""y' frightened her Tf ffc.* / j1 , °*° ''" *y«» ''e™ dry when Lai Cheve^lw^n*'^'/'*"''* '"" *<• <"»»e^ contain h^self *" P"'*'"*' "'"' '"'""W never be able to a Jut^s;rr.^'rdV^rtr 'r.- ^-^^ wicked feelings ^**' "°*^ all the while she had these Mu^ihiUr^LS SrUr^o^'iLi*!^'"'' -^ '" -^ me!" " ^^od) have pity upon WhJe thn, poor httle heart wa, being bruis^l with a weight .•Mf. %▼ -mm^M^mm IM BOKicBs or ouHuoAL un. too bMTjr for it, Katun wm holding on h«t otlm inoxonbl* way, in onmoTtd and terrible beaoty. Tbe itark were ruih- ing in their eternal ooutmc; the tidee swelled to tbe level of the lait expectant weed; the ion wai making brilliant day to buay nationi on the other side of the iwift earth. The itream of htunan thought and deed wae hurrying and broadening on- ward. The aatronomer waa at hii teleaoope; the great shipa were laboring over the waves; the toiling eagerness of com- merce, the fierce spirit of revolution, were only ebbing in brief rest; and sleepless statesmen were dreading tbe possible crisis of the morrow. What were our little Tina and her trouble in this mighty torrent, rushiiig from one awful un- known to another? Lighter than the smallest centre of quiv- ering life in the water-drop, hidden and uncared for as the pulse of anguish ip the breast of the tiniest, bird that has flut- tered down to its neet with the long-sought food, and has found the nest torn and empty. CHAPTER VI. Tbb next morning, when Caterina waa waked from her heavy sleep by Martha bringing in the warm water, the sun was shining, tbe wind had abated, and those hours of suffer- ing in the night seemed unreal and dreamlike, in spite of weary limbs and aching eyes. She got up and began to dress with a strange feeling of insensibility, as if nothing could make her cry again ; and she even felt a sort of longing to be downstairs' in the midst of company, that she might get rid of this benumbed condition by contact. There are few of us that are not rather ashamed of our sins and follies as we look out on the blessed morning sunlight, which comes to us like a bright-winged angel beckoning us to quit the old path of vanity that stretches its dreary length be- hind US ; and Tina, little as she knew about doctrines and theories, seemed to herself to have been both foolish and wicked yesterday. To-day she wonW try to be good; and when she knelt down to say her short prayer — the very form \2»#* MR OIUU-S L0T1-8T0RT. ISO Th«t d»y the prayer teemed to be aniwaMH f„. .#. n«n»rk, on her p^ look, .t ^«kt^J^^' *^' ^'"' morning quietly. ii„ A..h.r ^7 uSn Wvl'w'C^ *"! on a ridine exoureion In n, ^•P"^ wybrow being out P^ty. «d'XrT^-rinl\S' rrAtriTv ^.'"^T force to .uife'^itS 1 tS'enS?" """' ""* """ ""^ .u?in^drr.:'ir:r;ij.i:r a-"' -r r -""' taken over the hou«. 1« fiW'K- . u * *"""'' "^""^d •» the arohiteota^J^Xratiof, .h f^?,'"*' *° '"" *'" "«"^ <>' uy nuioe. AJJ the party, except Mr. Oilfil w«» ;,. n, j ing-room when the propieition waTmaT Ld 'h " « '^a''" I think not, if you'U ezouae me." h» .r,., j • • raitt of tbe cold rooma and draught* " 4rchr "aSr5,.^rher °'^'' --^ ^•-' -. thrtHimTehTrd l^ytt^tZ'Z. " ''- ehe had thought before that he wishTto ^n^^t "' ^^ Boih th- ^^ . T '"^* y°" '^ »11 this long time?" .ndunme^^,. She Cwt^'t.uVirS.rr ^^^ ence'to^y'^.r °'^'* -«*• I* ^oeen't make m^crdiifer- 140 80ENX8 OF CLERICAL LIFE. " Is that the kindeit thing you hare to say to me after my long absenoe? " "I don't know why you ihoold expect me to say kind things." Captain Wybrow was silent. He wished very mnoh to avoid allnsions to the past or comments on the present. And yet he wished to be well with Caterina. He would have liked to caress her, make her presents, and have her think him very kind to her. But these women are plaguy perverse I There's no bringing them to look rationally at anything. At last he said, "I hoped you would think all the better of me, Tina, for doing as I have done, instead of bearing malice tow- ard me. I hoped you would see that it is the best thing for every one — the best for your happiness too." " Oh pray don't make love to Miss Assher for the sake of my happiness," answered Tina. At this moment the door opened, and Miss Assher entered, to fetch her reticule, which lay on the harpsichord. She gave a keen glance at Caterina, whose face was flushed, and saying to Captain Wybrow with a slight sneer, " Since you are so chill I wonder you like to sit in the window," left the room again immediately. The lover did not appear much discomposed, bnt sat quiet a little longer, and then, seating himself on the music-stool, drew it near to Caterina, and, taking her hand, said, " Come, Tina, look kindly at me^ and let ns be friends. I shall always be your friend." "Thank yon," said Caterina, drawing away her hand. " You ate very generous. But pray move away. Miss As- sher may come in again." "Miss Assher be hanged! " said Anthony, feeling the fas- cination of old habit returning on him in his proximity to Caterina. He put hia arm round her waist, and leaned his cheek down to hers. The lips couldn't help meeting after that ; but the next moment, with heart swelling and tears ris- ing, Caterina burst away from him, and rushed out of the room. ML MB. OILFIL-S In who was sensible enough to take a walk that morning should have the honor of his approbation and society. As he thrust his great black and towny head under her hand, and wagged his taU with vigorous eloquence, and reached the climax of his welcome by jumping up to lick her face, which was at a convenient liok- mg height for him, Caterina felt quite grateful to the old dog for his friendliness. Animals are such agreeable friends— they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms. 1 j'f " *^°™'""^8 " "^ » "mote part of the grounds, encir- cled by the little stream issuing from die pool; and certainly for a wet day, Caterina could hardly have chosen a less suit- able walk, for though the rain was abating, and raesenUy ceased altogether, there was still a smart shower falling from the trees which arehed over the greater part of her way. But m>mi: ■.^w 14a somras OF olbrical lifk. idli t* I she found just the desired relief from her fererish ezoitement in laboring along the wet paths with an umbrella th^t made her arm ache. This amount of exertion was to her tiny body what a day's hunting often was to Mr. Gilfil, who at times had hU fits of jealousy and sadness to get rid o^ and wisely had recourse to nature's innocent opium — fatigue. When Oaterina reached the pretty arched wooden bridge which formed the only entrance to the Mosslands for any but webbed feet, the sun had mastered the clouds, and was shin- ing through the boughs of the tall elms that made a deep nest for the gardener's cottage — turning the rain-drops into dia- monds, and inviting the nasturtium flowers creeping over the pbroh and low-thatched roof to lift up their flame-colored heads once more. The rooks were cawing with many-voiced monotony, apparebtly— by a remarkable approximation to human intelligence — finding great conversational resources in the change of weather. The mossy turf, studded with the broad blades of marsh-loving plants, told that Mr. Bates's nest was rather damp in the best of weather; but he was of opinion that a little external moisture would hurt no man who was not perversely neglectful of that obvious and providential antidote, rum-and-water. Caterina loved this nest. Every object in it, every sound that haunted it, had been familiar to her from the days when she had been carried thither on Mr. Bates's arm, making little cawing noises to imitate the rooks, clapping her hands at the green frogs leaping in the moist grass, and fixing grave eyes on the gardener's fowls duck-clucking under their pens. And now the spot looked prettier to her than ever; it was so out of the way of Miss Assher, with her brilliant beauty, and personal claims, and small civil remarks. She thought Mr. Bates would not be come into his dinner yet, so she would sit down and wait for him. But she was mistaken. Mr. Bates was seated in his arm- chair, with his pocket-handkerchief thrown over his face as the most eligible mode of passing Away those superfluous hours between meals when the weather drives a man indoors. Boused by the furious barking of his chained bull-dog, he de- scried his little favorite approaehiag, and forthwith presented MR. OILnL'8 LOVB-BTOHT. 143 himaelf at the doorway, looking disproportionately tall com- pared with the height of his cottage. The bull-dog, mean- while, unbent from the severity of his official demeanor, and conunenced a friendly interchange of ideas with Bupert. Mr. Bates's hair was now gray, but his frame was none the less stalwart, and his face looked all the redder, making an artistic contrast with the deep blue of his cotton neckerchief, and of his linen apron twisted into a girdle round his waist. "Why, dang my boottons. Miss Tiny," he exclaimed, "hoo coom ye to coom oot dabblin' your fact laike a Uttle Muscovy duck, sich a day as this? Not but what ai'm dekighted to sae ye. Here Hesther," he called to his old humpbacked house- keeper, "tek the young ledy's oombrella an' spread it oot to dray. Coom, coom in. Miss Tiny, an' set ye doon by the faire an' dray yer fact, an' hev summat warm to kape ye from ketchin' coold." Mr. Bates led the way, stooping under the door-places, into his small sitting-room, and, shaking the patchwork cushion in his arm-chair, moved it to within a good roasting distance of the blazing fire. I' Thank you, uncle Bates" (Caterina kept up her childish epithets for her friends, and this was one of them) ; " not quite so close to the fire, for I am warm with walking." "Eh, but yer shoes are faine an' wet, an' ye must put up yer fact on the fender. Bare big fact, baint 'em?— aboot the saize of a good big spoon. I woonder ye can mek a shift to Stan' on 'em. Now, what'll ye hev to warm yer inaaide?— a drop o' hot elder wain, now? " "No, not anything to drink, thank you; it isn't very long since breakfast," said Caterina, drawing out the comforter from her deep pocket. Pockets were capacious in those days. "Look here, uncle Bates, here is what I came to bring you. I made it on purpose for you. You must wear it this winter, and give your red one to old Brooks." "Eh, Miss Tiny, this U a beauty. An' ye made it all wi' yer little fingers for an old feller laike mael I tek it very kaind on ye, an' I belave ye I'U wear it, and be proud on't too. These sthraipes, blue an' whaite, now, they mek it un- uommou pritty." ^^M- 144 SOXmiB OF OLEBICAL LIFK. " Y«a, that will suit your oomplezion, you know, b«tter thu the old Mulet one. I know Mre. Sharp will be mote in love with you than ever when she sees you in the new one." "My complexion, ye little rooguel ye're a laughin' at me. But talkin' o' complexions, what a beautiful color the bride as is to be has on her cheeks! Dang my boottons! she looks faine and handsome o' hossbaok — sits as npraight as a dart, wl' a figure like a statty! Misthress Sharp has promised to put me behaind one o' the doors when the ladies are comin' doon to dinner, so as I may sae the young un i' full dress, wi' all her curls an' that Misthress Sharp says she's almost beautifnller nor my ledy was when she was yoong; an' I think ye'll noot farad many i' the counthry as'll coom on to that." '^ " Yes, Miss Assher is very handsome," said Catcrina, rather faintly, feeling the sense of her own insignificance returning at this picture of the impression Miss Assher made on others. " Well, an' I hope she's good too, an'U mek a good naice to Sir Cristhifer an' my ledy. Misthress Griffin, the maid, says as she's rether tatohy and find-fautin' about her cloothes, laike. But she's yoong— she's yoong; that'll wear off when she's got a hoosband, an' children, an' summat else to think on. Sir Cristhifer' s fain an' delaighted, I can see. He says to me th' other momin, says he, ' Well, Bates, what do you think of your young misthress as is to be? ' An' I says, ' Whay, yer honor, I think she's as fain a lass as iver I set eyes on; an' I wish the Captain luck in a fain family, an' your honor laife an' health to see't. Mr. Warren says as the masther's all for forrardin' the weddin,' an' it'll very laike be afore the autumn's oot." As Mr. Bates ran on, Caterina felt something like a painful contraction at her heart. "Yes," she said, rising, "I dare say it will. Sir Christopher is very anxious for it. But I must go, uncle Bates; Lady Choverel will be wanting me, and it is your dinner-time. " "Kay, my dinner doon't sinnify a bit; but I moosn't kaep ye if my ledy wants ye. Though I hevn't thanked ye half anoof for the comfiter— the wrapraskil, as they oall't. My feckins, it's a beauty. But ye look very whaite end aadly^ «*•.. mtJkmiL m ih. mn UK. OII.FIL'S LOVB-8TOBT. 145 Miss Tiny j I doubt ye're poorly ; an' this walking i' th' wet isn't good for ye." "Oh yes, it is indeed," said Caterina, hastening out, and taking np her umbrella from the kitchen floor. "I must really go now; so good-by." She tripped off, calling Bupert, while the good gardener, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, stood looking after her and shaking his head with rather a melancholy air. "She gets moor nesh and dillioat than iver," he said, half to himself and half to Hester. " I shouldn't woonder if she fades away laike them cyalamens as I transplanted. She puts me i' maind on 'em somehow, hangin' on their little thin stalks, so whaite an' tinder." The poor little thing made her way back, no longer hunger- ing for the cold moist air as a counteractive of inward excite- ment, but with a chill at her heart which made the outward chill only depressing. The golden sunli;;ht beamed through the dripping boughs like a Shechinah, or visible divine pres- ence, and the birds were chirping and trilling their new au- tumnal songs so sweet./, it seemed as if their throats, as well as the air, were : "-he clearer for the rain; but Caterina moved through al lis joy and beauty like a poor woi - ' >d leveret painfully di rying." " Captain Wybrow, you are very false. It had nothing to do with Mr. Gilfil that she colored last night when you leaned over her chair. You might just as well be candid. If your own mind is not made up, pray do no violence to yourself. I am quite ready to give way to Miss Sarti' s superior attrac- tions. Understand that, so far as I am concerned, you are perfectly at liberty. I decline any share in the aSecticm of a man who forfeits my respect by duplicity." In saying this Miss Assher rose, and was sweeping haugh- tily out of the room, when Captain Wybrow placed himself before her, and took her hand. " Dear, dear Beatrice, be patient; do not judge me so rashly. X4S BUBNEB OF CLERICAL LIFl. Sit down .gdn, swMt," he added in a pleading yoioe, pntc ing both her handB between hii, and leading her back, to the sofa, where he lat down beside her. Miss Assher was not unwilling to be led back or to listen, but she retained her oold and haughty expression. "Cjm you not trust me, Beatrioe? Can yon not beUeve me, aJUiough there may be things T am unable to explain? " Why should there be anything you are unable to explain? An honorable man will not be placed in circumstances which he cannot explain to the woman he seeks to make his wife He wiU not ask her to ielieve that he acts properly; he wUl let her know that he does so. Let me go, sir." She attempted to rise, but he passed his hand round her waist and detained her. "Now, Beatrice, ieu," he said, imploringly, "can you not understand that there are things a man doesn't like to talk about-seorets that he must keep for the sake of others, and not for his own sake? Everything that relates to myself you may ask me, but do not ask me to toU other people's secrets. Don't yon understand me? " "Oh yes," said Miss Assher, scornfully, "I understand. Whenerer you make love to a woman-that is her secret, which you are bound to keep for her. But it is foUy to b^ talking m this way, Captain Wybiow. It is very plain that ttere is some relation more than friendship between you and Miss Sarti. Since you cannot exphun that relation, there is no more to be said between us." "Confound it, Beatrioel you'll drive me mad. Can a fel- low help a girl's faUing in love with him? Such things are always happening, but men don't talk of them. These fancies will spring up without the slightest foundation, especially when a woman sees few people; they die out again when there m no encouragement. If you could like me, you ought not to besurpnsed that other people can; you ought to think the better of them for it." "You mean to say, then, that Miss Sarti is in love with yon, vnthout your ever having made love to her." "Do not press me to say such things, dearest. It is enough that you know I love you-that I am devoted to you. You MR. OILFIL'S LOVX-8TORT. 149 Mughty queen, yon, you know there is no chance for any one else where you are. You are only tormenting me, to prove your power over me. But don't be too oruelf for yc^u kTw they say I have another heart disease besides love, and these scenes bnng on terrible palpitations." Mil^A* I °""*,.^»''« "" «""" to this one question," said M«. Assher, a httle softened: "ha. there be^n, or is there, any love on your side toward Miss Sarti? I have nothing to dowiA her feelings, but I have a right to know yours." .™,:i Iv TT^ """'^'' "'"' ^°»'"^ »°* «''« wot a little simple thmg? You would not wish me not to like her? But ^^1 f " ' J*'^ '^*"''""* '^"'- One has a brotherly ^eotaon for such a woman as Tina, but it is another sort of woman that one loves." These last words were made doubly significant by a look of tendemess, and a kiss imprinted on the hand Captain Wybrow Zil !L .^ u ""''*' '" ''<'°1»«'ed. It was so far from probable that Anthony should love that pale insignificant httle thmg-so higWy probable that he should adore U>e beau- bul Miss Assher. On the whole, it was rather gratifying that other women should be languishing for her hi^dsome lover; he really was an exquisite creature. Poor Miss Sarti I WelL sne would get over it. ^ l..*^?!*^ Y^» ,"" ""^ ''" ^^"'^^- " Come, sweet love," he continued, "let us talk no more about unpleasant thin^. You wJl keep Tma's secret, and be very kind to her_wo?t you7_for my sake. But you wiU ride out now? See what a glomus day ,t is for riding. Let me order the horses. I'm tenibly in want of the air. Come, give me one forgiving kiss, and say you will go." e """i Miss Assher complied with the double request, and then went to equip herself for the ride, whUe her lover walked to tae stables. IM BOBMia OF OLXRIOAL UTM. It'iii CHAPTER IX. lIsANWHiui Mr. Oilfil, who had a heitrj weight on hlf mind, had watched for the moment when, the two elder ladies having driven out, Oaterina would probably be alone in Lady Gheverel's sitting-room. He went up and knocked at the door. •'Come in," said the sweet mellow voice, always thrilling to him as the sound of rippling water to che thirsty. He entered and found Caterina standing in some confusion, aa if she had been startled from a revery. She felt relieved when she saw it was Maynard, but, the next moment, felt a little pettish that he should have come to interrupt and frighten her. '• Oh, it is you, Maynard I Do you want Lady Cheverel? " "No, Caterina," he answered gravely; "I want you. I have something very particular to say to you. Will you let me sit down with you for half an hour? " " Tes, dear old preacher," said Caterina, sitting down with an air of weariness ; " what is it? " "Mr. Gilfil placed himself opposite to her, and said, "I hope you will not be hurt, Caterina, by what I am going to •ay to you. I do not speak from any other feelings than real affection and anxiety for you. I put everything else out of the question. You know you are more to me than all the world; but I will not thrust before you a feeling which you are unable to return. I speak to you as a brother— the old Maynard that used to scold yon for getting your fishing-line tangled ten years ago. You will not believe that I have any mean, selfish motive in mentioning things that are painful to you?" "No; I know you are very good," said Caterina, abstract- edly. "From what I saw yesterday evening," Mr. Oilfil went on, hesitatiug and coloring slightly, " I am led to fear — pray for- ■ give me if I am wrong, Caterina — that you — that Captain Wybrow is base enough still to trifle with your feelings, that 'Wpi'lt^ m. OILTIL'S LOTSarORT. tn lia itUl allowi hiiBMilf to behare to you u no mwi ought who ii the deiikrad lover of another woman." " What do you mean, Maynard? " said Caterina, with anger flashing from her eyes. "Do you mean that I let him make love to me? What right have you to think that of me? What do you mean that you saw yesterday evening? " " I>o "ot bo angry, Caterina. I don't suspect you of doing wrong. I only suspect that heartless puppy of behaving so as to keep awake feelings in you that not only destroy your own peace of mind, but may lead to very bad consequences with regard to others. I want to warn you that Hiss Assher has her eyes open on what passes between you and Captain Wybrow, and I feel sure she is getting jealous of you. Pray bo very careful, Caterina, and try to behave with politeness and indifference to him. You must see by this time that he is not worth the feeling you have given him. He's more dis- turbed at his pulse beating one too many in a minute, than at all the misery he has caused you by his foolish trifling." " You ought not to speak so of him, Maynard," said Cat- erina, passionately. "He u not what you think. He did care for me; he did love me; only he wanted to do what his uncle wished." " Oh to be surel I know it is only from the most virtuous motives that he does what is convenient to himself." Mr. Gilfil paused. He felt that he was getting irritated, and defeating hu own object. Presently he continued in a calm and affectionate tone. " I will say no more about what I think of him, Caterina. But whether he loved you or not, his position now with Miss Assher is such that any love you may cherish for him can bring nothing but misery. God knows, I don't expect you to leave off loving him at a moment's notice. Time and ab- sence, and trying to do what is right, are the only cures. If it were not that Sir Christopher and Lady Cheverel would be displeased and puzzled at your wishing to leave home just now, I would beg you to pay a visit to my sister. She and her husband are good ereatnres, and Tould make their hoi2S« a home to you. But I could not urge the thing just now without giving a special reason; and what is most of all to ■*„fTf..JLFF* 181 Bomw or ounaoAL un. It be dnadad it th« niiing of uiy tuploion in Sir Chtiatopbw'i mind of wlimt hM Itsppwed in tlia past, or of jroor prafwit fMUngi. Ton think to too, don't you, Tina7 " Mr. Qilfil pauMd agkin, but Catarina laid nothing. 8h« w«a looking away from him, out of the window, and her 9JM were filling with tears. He row, and, advanoing a litUe tow- ard her, lield out hii Iiand and laid — "Forgive me, Caterina, for intruding on your feelings in this way. I waa m afraid you might not ue aware how Mill Aeiher watched you. Remember, I entreat you, that the peace of the whole family depends on your power of governing your- self. Only say you forgive me before I go." "Dear, good Maynard," she said, stretching out her little hand, and taking two of his large fingers in her grasp, while her tears flowed fast ; " I am very cross to you. But my heart is breaking. I don't know what I do. Good-by." He stooped down, kissed the little hand, and then left the room. "The cursed scoundrel I" he mattered between his teeth, u he dosed the door behind him. " If it were not for Sir Christopher, I should like to pound him into paste to poison puppies like himself I " CHAPTEB X. Thai evening Captain Wybrow, returning from a long ride with Miss Absher, went up to his dressing-room, and seated himself with an air of considerable lassitude before his mir- ror. The reflection there presented of his exquisite self was certainly paler and more worn than usual, and might excuse the anxiety with which he first felt his pulse, and then laid his hand on his heart. " It's a devil of a position this for a man to be in," was the train of his thought, as he kept his eyes fixed on the glass, while he leaned back in his chair, and crossed his hands behind his head; " between two jealous women, and Iwth of them as ready to take fire as tinder. And in my state of health, tool MR. OILFIL'B LOVB-STOKT. 1«8 I •honld be gUd aaoagh to nm %w»j from the whole effair, and go off to lonie lotoe-eeting plue or other where there ue no women, or only women who are too sleepy to be jetlooi. Here un I, doing nothing to pleaae myself, trying to do the beet thing for everybody else, and all the comfort I get is to have fire shot at me from women's eyes and venom spirted at me from women's tongues. If Beatrice takes another jealous fit into her head— and it's likely enough, Tina is so unman- ageable— I don't know what storm she may raise. And any hitch in this marriage, especially of that sort, might be a fatal business for the old gentleman. I wouldn't have such a blow fall upon him for a great deal. Besides, a man must be married some time in his life, and I could hardly do better than marry Beatrice. She's an uncommonly fine woman, and I'm really very fond of her; and as I shall let her have her own way, her temper won't signify much. I wish the wed- ding was over and done with, for this fuss doesn't suit me at all. I haven't been half so well lately. That scene about Tina this morning quite upset me. Poor little Tina! What a little simpleton it was, to set her heart on me in that way! But she ought to see how impossible it is that things should be different. If she would but understand how kindly I feel toward her, and make up her mind to look on me as a friend; — but that is what one never can get a woman to do. Bea- trice is very good-natured ; I'm sure she would be kind to the little thing. It would be a great comfort if Tina would take to Gilfil, if it were only in anger against me. He'd make her a capital husband, and I should like to see the little grass- hopper happy. If I had been in a different position, I would certainly have married her myself; but that was out of the question with my responsibilities to Sir Christopher. I think a little persuasion from my uncle would bring her to accept Oilfil; I know she would never be able to oppose my unt 's wishes. And if they were once married, she's such a loving little thing, she would soon be bUling and cooing with him as if she had never known me. It would certainly be the best thing for her happiness if that marriage were hastened. Heigho! Those are lucky fellows that have no women fall- ing in love with them. It's a confounded responsibility." i-Ht-tm ~ 'IT"^ • 'li f!f» 104 80XHES OF CLERIOAL LIFE. i At thii point in his meditations he turned his head a little, 80 as to get a three-quarter view of his face. Clearly it was the " doTio ir^feliee delta belltiaia " that laid these onerous du- ties upon him — an idea whioh naturally suggested that he should ring for his valet. For the next few days, however, there was such a cessation of threatening symptoms as to allay the anxiety both of Cap- tain Wybrow and Mr. Oilfil. All earthly things have their lull : even on nights when the most unappeasable wind is rag- ing, there will be a moment of stillness before it crashes among the boughs again, and storms against the windows, and howls like a thousand lost : mons through the keyholes. Miss Assher appeared to be in the highest good-humor; Captain Wybrow was more assidous than usual, and was very circumspect in hiA behavior to Caterina, on whom Miss Assher bestowed unwonted attentions. The weather was brilliant; there were riding excursions in the mornings and dinner-par- ties in the evenings. Consultations in the library between Sir Christopher and Lady Assher seemed to be leading to a satisfactory result; and it was understood that this visit at Cheverel Manor would terminate in another fortnight, when the preparations for the wedding would be carried forward with all despatch at Farleigh. The Baronet seemed every day more radiant. Accustomed to view people who entered into his plans by the pleasant light whioh his own strong will and right hopefulness were always casting on the future, he saw nothing but personal charms and promising domestic qualities in Miss Assher, whose quickness of eye and taste in externals formed a real ground of sympathy between her and Sir Christopher. Lady Cheverel's enthusiasm never rose above the temperate mark of calm satisfaction, and, having quite her share of the critical acumen whioh characterizes the mutual estimates of the fair sex, she had a more moderate opinion of Miss Assher' s qualities. She suspected that the fair Beatrice had a sharp and imperious temper ; and being herself, on principle and by habitual self-command, the most deferential of wives, she noticed with disapproval Miss As- sher's occasional air of authority toward Captain Wybrow. A ' proud woman who has learned to submit, carries all her pride MR. OILFIL'B LOVE-STORY. IBS to the re-enforcement of her submisgon, and looks down with seve^sui^nontyon all feminine assumption a, " unbe^;^ ™?;.,v nf { ^^"^"^ll ^°'«'«»' «»"fi"ed her criticisms to the privacy of her own thoughts, and, with a reticence which I few may seem incredible, did not use them as a means of dis- turbwg her husband's complacency. And Caterina? How did she pass these sunny autumn days, in which the skies seemed t^ be smiling ora.eS gladness? To her the change in Miss Asshef's ^T^l, unaccountable. Those compassionate attentions, those J" mg condescensions, were torture to Caterina, who was con- Perhaps Anthony has told her to be kind to poor Ti^ " This was an msult. He ougi to have known that the meie presence of Miss Assher was painful to her, that Miss As- sher 8 smiles scorched her, that Miss Assh. r's kind words were like poison stings inflaming her to madness. And he-An- thony-he was evidently repenting of the tenderness he had been betray^ into that morning in the drawing-room. He was cold and distant and civU to her, to ward off Beatrice's suspicions, and Beatrice could be so gracious now, because she was sure of Anthony's entire devotion. Weill and so it ought to be-and she ought not to wish it otiierwise. And yet-oh, he was cruel to her. She could never have behaved wol^r- ° r^" ""l' '""'• ^ ''°-'° '^^ "^"^ tend" Z^^ ^rJ"" """v "*"'"*"^ ""^ 'J'*" *° behave as if such things had never been. He had given her the poison that seemed so sweet while she was drinking it, and now it was m her blood, and she was helpless. ww'*^ l^'^ **'"^'* P'°* "P ^ *"' *»«""' tl»e poorchUd TW„^ .^V T"!.-''^*'^ '^8^*' '^^ *•"«" i* »11 burst forth. I.n 'i • '•""Ij'^^P"^ ''"d o°H resUessly pacing up and she told to the pitiful listening night the anguish which sh^ could pour mto no mortal ear. But always sleep came at last, and always in the morning the reactive calm that enabled her to live through the day. witi. this sort of secret wretchedness, and yet show no braces •►^wr. 106 BOBintS OF CUmOAL LIFE. of the conflict for any but sympathetio eyes. The very deli* oacy of Caterina's usual appearance, her natural paleneas and habitually quiet mouse-like ways, made any symptoms of fa- tigue and suffering less noticeable. And her singing — the one thing in which she ceased to be passive, and became promi- nent — lost none of its energy. She herself sometimes won- dered how it was that, whether she felt sad or angry, crushed with the sense of Anthony's indifference, or burning with im- patience under Miss Assher's attentions, it was always a relief to her to sing. Those full deep notes she sent forth seemed to be lifting the "-« thouBhr^-m"^** '^/"'y '"' ""-^ die before then," she nuiuBnumg oreaofuj. Oh I I wonder if any one ever Mt «ir« me before. I muet be very wicked n«t n^ '.^f, "" ^™ on me, He knows all I haTetoS;.- "* "^ ^'' '"''" ^"^ In this way the time wore on Hll Tina hearH tl,o . j * ^^^Vr^Tf/'^r^^^'' and became conS hit Zvol ume of Tillotson had slipped on the floor ah» ),7^ i • picked it np, and seen ^'th alaiL'^thaTthe 'pa^tlveTe^^r :f:ith':SLrk";nr:araii s° ^''--^^> ob^rved to produce wtetutXid."™"" " °^ iiady ilssher atouce oame and saabul ho,..!* u /^ . . Her kdyship had been consSirre^shed bv a^n . was in great force for monologn" ^ ^°"^ '^^ 1 J'l.^i ""^r^^ **'™ ^""' ""d how do you feel now?_^ WW tOi^-lt^. 168 BCXHXS OF cuoacAL Lini. mutt not OTor-ezert younelf, and you must take bitten. I used to have just the same sort of headaches when ^ was youi age, and old Dr. Samson used to say to my mother : ' Madam, what your daughter suffers from is weakness.' He was such a curious old man, was Dr. Samson. But I wish you could have heard the sermon this morning. Such an excellent ser- mon 1 It was about the ten virgins : five of them were fool- ish, and five were clever, you know; and Mr. Gilfil explained all that. What a very pleasant young man he is I so very quiet and agreeable, and such a good hand at whist. I wish we had him at Farleigh. Sir John would have liked him be- yond anything; he is so good-tempersd at cards, and he was such a man for cards, was Sir John. And our rector is a very irritable man; he can't bear to lose his money at cards. I don't think a clergyman ought to mind about losing his money ; do you? — do you now? " " Oh pray. Lady Assher," interposed Beatrice, in her usual tone of superiority, " do not weary poor Crterina with such uninte:'3Sting questions. Your head seems very bad still, dear," she continued, in a condoling tone, to Caterina; "do take my vinaigrette, and keep it in your pocket. It will per- haps refresh you now and then." "No, thank you," answered Caterina; "I will not take it away from you." "Indeed, dear, I never use it; you must take it," Miss Assher persisted, holding it close to Tina's hand. Tina col- ored deeply, pushed the vinaigrette away with some impa- tience, and said : " Thank yon, I never use those things. I don't like vinaigrettes." Miss Assher returned the vinaigrette to her pocket in sur- prise and haughty silence, and Captain Wybrow, who had looked on in some alarm, said hastUy: "Seel it is quite bright out of doors now. There is time for a walk before luncheon 'ome, Beatrice, put on your hat and cloak, and let us have half an hour's walk on the gravel." " Yes, do, my dear," said Lady Assher, " and I will go and see if Sir Christopher is having his walk in the gallery." As soon as the door had dcsed behind the two ladies, Cap- tain Wybrow, standing with his back to the fire, turned MR GILPIL'8 LOVE-8TORT I59 trol over your feeW vou ! ^ n '° ""«''''*' °'°™ «»"- your I 'aviormuBt appear to her Sh«^Ti""' ''"^•' be the cause of it. Com" Z^iAZtT^^'^ ^'"" '^ her, and attempting to t,U^e C W- '^fn^^ '^' ^^^"^^^8 me entreat you to reoei^hJr IfT^. ' '/"" '""' ^^^e Je' feels very kidly t^^j ™u ^^ T T' J^i"'"^- S^"" «^y you friends." ^ ^°"' ""* ^ "^""'•^ »* 8° happy to see have been initJ^^T^hL .^J^Z^'^^'fl Wybrow Vould wing wiU afflict a nervous Ltilt 'b^^ f • "■" """>* -^o^oato lent remonstrance WMrbJeS He h !? '"^ °* '^"°- and unrepented injury on her »„H \^^ '°^""*"* » 8reat noticed h^w str«.ge Jl "hlX is'tLf h" '^ '^"'^^ ing! tCvJnTrJr ;r. T^^^*^- -ittemess, ris- girl, and have faUen in love whh'vn,?^ ^ I am a poor silly m^^M ir -T I 160 801ENE8 OF CIjBRIOAL LIFE. neu— underneath all this sooiohing passion there were still left some hidden crystal dews of trust, of self-reproof, of belief that Anthony was tryirj to do the right. Love had not all gone to feed the fires of hatred. Tina still trusted that An- thony felt more for her than he seemed to feel ; she was still tax from suspecting him of a wrong which a woman resents even more than inconstancy. And she threw out this taunt simply as the most intense expression she could find for the anger of the moment. As she stood nearly in the middle of the room, her little body trembling under the shock of passions too strong for it, her very lips pale, and her eyes gleaming, the door opened, and Miss Assher appeared, tall, blooming, and splendid, in her walking costume. As she entered, her face wore the smile appropriatis to the exits and entrances of a young lady who feels that her presence is an interesting fautj but the next moment she looked at Gate -ina with grave surprise, and then threw a glance of angry suspicion at Captain Wybrow, who wore an air of weariness and vexation. " Perhaps you are too much engaged to walk out, Captain Wybrow? I will go alone." "No, no, I am coming," he answered, hurrying toward her, and leading her out of the room; leaving poor Caterina to feel all the reaction of shame and seU-reproach after her outburst of passion. • ' CHAPTER XII. "Pbat, what is likely to be the next scene in the drama between you and Miss Sarti?" said Miss Assher to Captain Wybrow as soon as they were out on the gravel. " It would be agreeable to have some idea of what is coming." Captain Wybrow was silent. He felt out of humor, wea- ried, annoyed. There come moments when one almost deter- mines never again to oppose anything but dead silence to an augry woman. "Now then, cunfoutid it," he s&id to himseif, "I'm going to be battered on the other flank." He looked HH. OILPIL'S LOVasTORY m Bti^^hLXr^nr-Yfr --'«". ■*• continued in a Wybrow. that I exit L «^T' J°" *" "'"«' ^''''Ptoin seen." ^' "° explanation of what I have just subject'?^ ^ • ^ ^"P*** y°" '""Id "ever recur to Zl I oZo^/STS«''°''''«'' ^ '"y '" ^"^ satiBfactory tion as regards me ^d^ h^ ™»n>Patible with your posi- «ulting. IsZlZri^^S \-\'*''r''» to me is most in- ci^um^stan^l^rl^ l«^y -^he h^ -1« -h Christopher " ***'* *« reasons to Sir to ^mT J^' L?i.«;s K:^,''tf '""°" ™ -^ feelings in this affair It iav- * -^ ^ ."*""« J""" ««>* sure you would be^evS l^S^'' I ^°'' "»' ^ «» down my uncle's anmr n«,n ..^^ ^"^ ^aterina-to bring dependentThingTe^^.T" '«• Consider what a poor litaj to behave to you asX do^ if 1 k^' """"^^ "-^^ ^^ or made love to h^ i Z^Jt^ ""' ^^^ '■«" I'*', -ent to me a br^ch of /Xto hlf T" "'"' 1°" *"«»8-^ you, certainly, for makin^^„ iir a T """"^ °*>"8ed to told me a fal'^hooUrS^n ^yb^w ^^ ^^''- ^°" ^^^ iug s:rme trf ^^rfTa? t r ^"^^-^ « -«■- favorite of my unoL's ^d ,^ f**' '^'"^ '»-'«' » should be glad'to""si'h;,^t^^t S ^' """"«''• ' a good proof that I'm not inTn ,S^ to-morrow; that's A. to the past, I may have 1^^^- ^'"' ^ "^'^^ 'J'^'^- »he has e4^„rLr^r^li''«-"entions, which liable to that sort of thing? » ""^^'^-^- "^t ™an is not "B«twhat«„.hefoundherbehavioron? What had she r M .!▼-. m 162 80XHE8 OF OURICAL LtTB. been Baying to you this morning to make her tremble and tarn palein that way?" " Oh, I don't know. I jnit said something about her be- having peevishly With thiftt Italian blood of hers, there's no knowing how she may take what one says. She's a fierce little thing, though she seems so quiet generally." "But she ought to be made to know how unbecoming and indelicate her conduct is. For my part, I wonder Lady Chev- erel has not noticed her short answers and the airs she puts on." " Let me beg of you, Beatrice, not to hint anything of the kind to Lady Cheverel. You must have observed how strict my aunt is. It never enters her head that a girl can be in love with a man ^ho has not made her an offer." " Well, I shall let Miss Sarti know myself that I have ob- served her conduct. It will be only a charity to her." " Nay, dear, that will be doing nothing but harm. Cato- rina's temper is peculiar. The best thing you can do will be to leave her to herself as much as possible. It will all wear off. I've no doubt she'll be married to Gilfil before long. Girls' fancies are easily diverted from one object to another. Hy Jove, what a rate my heart is galloping at I These con- founded palpitations get worse instead of better." Thus ended the conversation, so far as it concerned Cate- rina, not without leaving a distinct resolution in Captain Wy- brow's mind— a resolution carried into effect the next day, when he was in the library with Sir Christopher f.r the pur- pose of discussing some arrangements about the approaching marriage.' "By the by," he said carelessly, when the business came to a pause, and he was sauntering rnund the room with his hands in his coat pockets, surveying the backs of the books that lined the walls, " when is the wedding between Gilfil and Caterina to come off, sir? I've a fellow-feeling for a poor devil so many fathoms deep in love as Maynard. Why shouldn't their marriage happen as soon as ours? I suppose he has come to an understanding with Tina? " "Why," said Sir Christopher, "I did think of letting the thing be until old Crichley died; he can't hold out very long, MB. OILPTL'B LOTX-8TORT. 10$ poor feUow, and th«n Maynard might hare «nterad Into «,.» r^ony and the B«rto,y both at Snoe. lu^S £ Tt ^to^:a^f^eSrr.'!Sf ^'■--^■i^* Mr^ GiMl, « cLe U" met SlS^X^^a'" it^? to have a word with yon." Jnaynara. I want " Maynard, my boy," he began, as soon as ther were «e«b«J tapping h.8 snuif-box, and looking radianrat Z^d«!^ unexpected pleasure he was about to^^r-wivsh^IHl have two happy couples instead of o^^^befoT^C^ii: w*.-^':t^^j^' 164 BOXHKB OP CLERICAL LIFl. " Eh? " h« repeated, after a moment'i pauM, lengthening out the moDoey liable, taking a ilow pinoh, and looking up at Ilaynard with a sly smile. " I'm not quite sure that I understand you, sir," answered Mr. Qilfil, who felt annoyed at the oonsaioaincM that he was turning pale. "Not understand me, you rogue? Tou know very well whose happiness lies nearest to my heart after Anthony's. You know you let me into youi secrets long ago, so there'if no confession to make. Tina's quite old enough to be a grave little wife now; and though the Rectory's not ready for you, that's no matter. My lady and I shall feel all the more com- fortable for having you with us. We should miss oui little singing-bird if we lost her all at once." Mr. Oilfil felt himself in a pauJ-xUy difficult position. He dreaded that Sir Christopher shoulb surmise or discover the true state of Caterina's feelings, and yet he was obliged to make those feelings the ground of his reply. "My dear sir," he at last said with some effort, "yon will not suppose that I am not alive to your goodness — that I am not grateful for your fatherly interest in my happiness; but I fear that Caterina's feelings toward me are not such as to warrant the hope that she would accept a proposal of marriage from me." " Have you ever asked her? " " No, sir. But we often know these things too well with- out asking." " Pooh, pooh I the little monkey mutt love you. Why, you were her first playfellow; and I remember she used to cry if you cut your finger. Besides, she has always silently admitted that you were her lover. ITou know I have always spoken of you to her in that light. I took it for granted you had set- tled the business between yourselves; so did Anthony. An- thony thinks she's in love with you, and he has young eyes, which are apt enough to see clearly in these matters. He was talking to me about it this morning, and pleased me very much by the friendly interest he showed in you and Tina." The blood — more than was wanted — rushed back to Mr. MR QOFIL'S LOTI 8T0RT. Ifl5 tioed the flush, but thought K^;,.^!'^^"'!"^?" "»; hop. -dfe., about C.t.^uI'^H'Swri'^' """"*'°° "' j,.^/«^o"^rr^^Te;;s:,sn^^^^^^^^^ not to mention thi. .ubjeot to Cteri^.TpCeS^ I li^w ri L'.-^^"^ "'•'•• p"-*-"^' -^^^ -rinL'^iTe!: .ne£no£th^S!:reXr.°^^^^^ toJS;irinXKiit:?r;rl^^^^^^^^ ^-^j K---L?ht^i^/t£r^^^^ mmmm had instigated or M^otionJsir rh"5 v "tPP""* *^''* *- pasemg the evening calmly. He woulHS^f if t^X^i^/ After prayers, he contrived to lead her hack to ^e dZ^= ™.m, and to put a letter in her hand. Z^M t^t her own room, wondering, and there read- ^ lee BonraB or ourioal Lira. DiAB Catbmua,— Do not nupeet for » monwnt thM uythlng Bit ChrlitaplMriBay M7 toyou •bovtonrmuTliga hai been promnMil bjr ma. I lun doM all I lUra do to dlHtuds him (mm orgliig the aabioot, ud hHe only bwn prevented hom ipwiking more •trongly bjr the drewl of provoking quoetlone which I could not eniwer without cwulng jrou (reeh mliery. I write thie, both to prepwe you for uythlng Blr Christopher nwy Mty, »nd to Manre you— but I hope you kltewly believe It— that your feeling! are Mcred to me. 1 would r»ther pKt with the deueet hope of my life than be the mean* of adding to your trouble. It U CapUln Wybrow who has prompted Sir Chrletopher to take up the ittbject at thU moment. I tell you thl», to lave you from hearing It luddenly when you are with Blr Chrletopher. You lee now what iort of itu« that daatard'i heart U made of. Trurt In me alwaye, deareet Caterlna, t^— whatever may come— your faithful friend and brother, BlumABO OiLriL. Caterina was ft first too terribly stung by the words about Captain Wybrow to think of the difficulty which threatened her— to think either of what Sir Christopher would say to her, or of what she oould say in reply. Bitter sense of injury, fierce resentment, left no room for fear. With the poisoned garment upon him, the victim writhes under the torture— he has no thought of the coming death. Anthony could do this I— Of this there could be no explana- tion but the coolest contempt for her feelings, the basest sac- rifice of all the consideration and tenderness he owed her to the ease of his position with Miss Assher. No. It was worse than that: it was deliberate, gratuitous cruelty. He wantod to show hsr how he despised her; he wanted to make her feel her folly in having ever believed that he loved her. The la<■■< „ ,, was in a very slight gold frame, with a • ;, t , 'i mtmded to be worn on a chain; and undo t,' ;la.,B at" Co back were two locks of hair, one dark and .h* o'J »r auLuu. arranged in a fantastic knot. It was Antl. .uy's ... ,tt arcf '• ent to her a year ago-a copy he had had ^,ide s|i, -i ,l y •,,, her. For the last month she had not taken it 1.., a - „ ain . place: ttere was no need to heighten the TividT.es.^ f tu« past. But now she clutched it Beroely, and dashed rosi the room against the bare hearthstone. vTk' 'J'V?''^ ** "°^" ^" '•«*' ""1 grind it under her hJgh-heeled shoe, till every trace of those false cruel features IS gone? »i.^-'^^°' She rushed across the roomj but when she saw the httle treasure she had cherished so fondly, so often smothered with kisses, so often laid under her pillow, and re- membered with the first return of consciousness in the mom- ing-when she saw thU one visible relic of the too happy past lying with the glass shivered, the hair fallen out, Se thin ivory cracked, there was a revulsion of the overstrained feel- mg: relenting came, and she burst into tears. Look at her stooping down to gather up her treasure, search, ing for the hair and replacing it, and then mournfully exam- ining the crack that disfigures the once-loved image There IS no glass now to guard either the hair or the portrait; but see how carefully she wraps delicate paper round it, and locks It up again m its old place. Poor child 1 God send the re- lenting may always come before the worst irrevocable deed I This action had quieted her, and she sat down to read May- nard 8 letter again. She read it two or three times without seeming to take in the sense; her apprehension was dulled by the passion of the last hour, and she found it difficult to caU up the ideas suggested by the words. At last she began to I ;^J^'13^ 5 'P» ^ii» 168 SOENBS OF CLERICAL LIFE. 11 have a diitinot oonoeption of the impending interview with Sir ChiiBtopher. The idea of displeasing the Baronet, of whom every one at the Manor stood in awe, frightened her so much that she thought it would be impossible to resist his wish. He believed that she loved Maynard; he had always spoken as if he were quite sure of it. How oould she tell him he was deceived— and what if he were to ask her whether she loved anybody else? To have Sir Christopher looking angrily at her, was more than she could bear, even in imagination. He had always been so good to her! Then she began to think of the pain she might give him, and the more selfish distress of fear gave way to the distress of affection. Unselfish tears began to flow, and sorrowful gratitude to Sir Christopher helped to awaken her sensibility to Mr. Giltil's tenderness and generosity. "Dear, good Maynard I— what a poor return I make him I If I oould but have loved him instead — but I can never love or care for anything again. My heart is broken." CHAPTER XIII. The next morning the dreaded moment came. Caterina, stupefied by the suffering of the previous night, with that dull mental aching which follows on acute anguish, was in Lady Cheverel's sitting-room, copying out some charity lists, when her ladyship came in, and said — " Tina, Sir Christopher wants you ; go down into the library. " She w«nt down trembling. As soon as she entered, Sir Christopher, who was seated near his writing-table, said, "Now, little monkey, come and sit down by mej I have something to tell you." Caterina took a footstool, and seated herself on it at the Baronet's feet It was her habit to sit on these low stools, and in this way she could hide her face better. She put her little arm round his leg, and leaned her cheek against his knee. "Why, you seem out of spirits this morning, Tina. What's the matter, eh7" .tL».. m:^ MB. GIUIL'8 LOVE-STORY. 169 "Nothing, Padroncello; only my head is bad." if r IZ r '^■' '^'"' "'"'' """W"'* •' <1° the head good ILZIT. TT^ '°l 1"'^ '""'»"•'' ""•J «°"t little ^ :::?ou'i.:,2lrf*'"'' -^^ ^*<^™—'>ia co^e l ally! :^y":!tH ;L'r^'* "'''' ^^" *° "- -^^- ^* - "Pooh, pooh, little simpleton. I shall get old and ti«, some and the™ will be Anthony's ohUdren pl^J ^ ^ out of jomt. You will want «,me one to lov! you bT^f aT and you must have ohildren of your own to W I om't hav^ you withering away into an old maid. I hate old m^s : Zy for ^vt^f; ^ f ' l"^l'-«ye"' *-'«1 ^--i suddenly and left tHe'Ta^^ra^dT^rS^iSJi';'' '.^^ r^^^. along those bloodless lips, that swif78U^iU V !'^"'« "y*"' the incarnation of'a fie^nu^ *'i"'ta''- '-^ like The midday sun is ahinm„ „/*v ' . " *^"" * woman. in hat and otoak. 0^7. f>"e '""'ntes more she is out, whicl. she hold, half out of its sheath *^' '*''«8''' o'Te^rSiTr""--^^^^^ ^-LTi^ri^r r;tr t^e «n "" ^ *^^ Poor chUd ! 1I!1,S *^.''* dagger mto his heart. . - ...=^ . =ut sf au used to cry to have the fish m 174 SCSmS OF CLERICAL UFX. put back into the water — who never willingly killed the imall- est liring thing — dieama now, in the madness of her passion, that she oan kill the man whose very voice unnerves her. But what is that lying among the dank leaves on the path three yards before her? Oood OodI it is he — lying motionless — his hat fallen oS. He is ill, then — be has fainted. Her hand lets go the dagger, and she rushes toward him. His eyes are fixed; he does not see her. She sinks down on her knees, takes the dear head in her arms, and kisses the cold forehead. "Anthony, Anthony! speak to me— it is Tina — speak to met God, be is deadi " CHAPTER XIV. "Tm, Maynard," said Sir Christopher, chatting with Mr. Oilfil in the library, " it really is a remarkable thing that I never in my life Udd a plan, and failed to carry it out. I lay my plans well, and I never swerve from them — that's it. A strong will is the only magic. And next to striking out one's plans, the pleasantest thing in the world is to see them well aooomplisbed. This year, now, will be the happiest of my life, tili but the year '63, when I came into possessioc of the Manor, and married Henrietta. The last touch is given to the old house ; Anthony's marriage — the thing I bad nearest my heart — is settled to my entire satisfaction ; and by and by you will be buying a little wedding-ring for Tina's finger. Don't shake your bead in that forlorn way; — whsa I make prophecies they generally come to pass. But there's quarter after twelve striking. I must be riding to the High Ash to meet Markham about felling some timber. My old oaks will have to groan for this wedding, but " The door burst open, and Caterina, ghastly and panting, her eyes distended with terror, rushed in, threw her arms round Sir Christopher's neck, and gasping out — "Anthony ... the Bookery . . . dead ... in the Bookery," fell fainting on the floor. KR. OILFIL-8 LOVS-8n>ST. 176 ^"^ ter ,r sir r te^. r '•^'^ '-^ enough to hurt her as^helav w ""8^*/* " """'d be M.M shuddered. Did she .ean to kiul'^Ii, then, "De^l-LtheRo^ktS''" nXtTv"^;'^" »P°" ''^• rownVl«» in the X yTZ^Z^C ."^ '"' "f' thisdaBMr? wi,.t «~y- ^*S ''hj had Catenna taken »ryf "'»» "only a delirious vigion of here? from this fig-fi^K«ht L"°' ""^ "^^ "^^ ""*• leave her, and vet hefelt « H "*^"t ^" '^•^"1 "°* ing Sir Christorf-r J v ^* ''"" »"^ *" °°t foUo... ailenttoSr.^dK'lJs'b*^'^^ '' ^^^ ''°* 3iJSrwSt?rBXr4%;:s'o"a%"h? r-* ' M^ l^teftCor V "" y "' "'*«> ^ ''*™«t the ear S ^d,ht,^rgrth'rdr^ttr7:^;''"Tf^^ among thfd^S^Ces'^itrh''"" «"?"* «ter Memory CaS'rLa^^'H^Sifilrr 't"^""^ P-'-^o- «.d looking at her wiS^LT ^^ « K^' ""^ ^<^ on him wonderingly. He thonX *i. *'".'^\ ^y" 0P»n.d in ttedining-roomo oee by X* ftT ""*^' ^ '~°'« ^»« ey«i turned toward tibB^in-T . *^^ "°°' *"'* Caterina'. ^air. rWaa^le'^lL; at tl^rr'ch!^ Chriatopher'a p^^^^^ uig-room on the opposite side of the was not really dead-onlv I? dome with him; perhaps he trances sometimrwhtSrG^r' ^t" "''**'" '^"^ it would be best to brra^ewTit*^^^^''-?^- «suer, anxious himself to return to CaterinHr'p^^r'S 178 SOBMBB or OLBRIOAL UIS. had made her way feebly to the great entranoe-xlaor, which •toodc Her itrength inereaied i [breathed imoredi itrength oame in- ereaied viTidneit of emotion, increased yearning to be where her thought was— in the Bookery with Anthony. She walked more and more swiftly, and at last, gathering the artificial strength of passionate excitement, began to ran. But now she heard the tread of heavy steps, and under the yellow shade near the wooden bridge she saw men slowly carrying something. Soon she was face to face with them. Anthony was no longer in the Bookery : they were carrying him stretched on a door, and there behind him was Sir Chris- topher, with the firmly set mouth, the deathly paleness, and the concentrated expression of suffering in the eye^ whieh mark the suppressed grief of the strong man. The sight of this face, on which Caterina had nerer before beheld the signs of anguish, caused a rush of new feeling which for the moment submerged all the rest. She went gently up to him, put her little hand in his, and walked in silence by his side. Sir Christopher could not tell her to leave him, and so she went on with that sad procession to Mr. Bates's cottage in the Hose- lands, and sat there in silence, waiting and watching to know if Anthony were really dead. She had not yet missed the dagger from her pocket ; she had not yet even thought of it. At the sight of Anthony lying dead, her nature had rebounded from its new bias of resent- ment and hatred to the old sweet habit of love. The earliest and the longest has still the mastery over us; and the only past that linked itself with thoue ^.-lazed unconscious eyes, was the past when they beamed oti hsr with tenderness. She for- got the interval of wrong and jealousy and hatred — all his cru- elty, and all her thoughts of revenge — as the exile forgets the stormy passage that lay between home and happiness and the dreary land in which he finds himself desolate. AaiC'r: MH. OILFIL'8 LOVB-8TOBT. 179 CHAPTEB XVI. cTCnV^ 7>^'"' "" ""^^ ""* '"d fallen on tt^m l^aterma had be«n questioned by Dr Hart «nrf h.^ .» j briefly that ^e foJd A«thonyTyS S^^'^kfrT tS she should hart been walking there iust at th^H™?' !J ^oc,incid«.ceto,^.oonjectf^r.l^^^^^^^^ sShe^h-d'r^M;::^-.;--^^^^^^ ibm^tV?r!?"^ ""'•"" *° *^*^ "' anything but tS^:S to™^,^ ^°°^ ""»^* ""''•' ""*" «*« ■«» them ^^. ^a^y the body to the house. Then .he follow^ bTsir It was decided to lay the body in the library nn'dl after th. Sy" ?o::2"™r 'tb"' t*- c"^* -t ^s; uauy Closed, She turned up the gaUeiy stairs on her wav to .11 4.v„ _ . ""■ ""Bger. res I now it all came back to her fell s;s;i'rirrss„'^r Btaus, and humed on to her room, where, kneeling b? tte w TO recall erety fteh^^ an^ incident of the morning. »-;-r.T3- Moocorr hmuition mr aun (*NS( ond ISO TEST CH*»T No. 2) 1.0 la ■2.8 ■11 IM I.I 1.25 l^lj^ /iPPLED MHGE Ine t853 Ent Uain SIrMt RochMl«r. Nmi Yorii 14009 USA (716) 402 - 0300 - Phona 180 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. It all came back; eveiything Anthony had done, and every- thing she had felt for the last month — for many months ever since that June evening when he had last spoken to her in the gallery. She looked back on her storms of passion, her jeal- ousy and hatred of Miss Assher, her thoughts of revenge on Anthony. Oh howwicked she had been! It was she who had been sinning; it was she who had driven him to do and say those things that had made her so angry. And if he had wronged her, what had she been on the verge of doing to him? She was too wicked ever to be pardoned. She would like to confess how wicked she had been, that they might punish her; she would like to humble herself to the dust before every one — before Miss Assher even. Sir Christopher would send her away — would never see her again, if he knew all; and she would be happier to be punished and frowned on, lian to be treated tenderly while she had that guilty secret in her breast. But then, if Sir Christopher were to know all, it would add to his sorrow, and make him more wretched than ever. Kol she could not confess it — she should have to tell about Anthony. But she could not stay at the Manor ; she must go away ; she could not bear Sir Christopher's eye, could not bear the sight of all these things that reminded her of Anthony and of her sin. Perhaps she should die soon ; she felt very feeble; there could not be much life in] her. She would go away and live humbly, and pray to God to pardon her, and let her die. The poor child never thought of suicide. Ko sooner was the storm of anger passed than the tenderness and timidity of her nature returned, and she could do nothing but love and mourn. Jler inexperience prevented her from imagining the consequences of her disappearance from the Manor; she fore- saw none of the terrible details of alarm and distress and search that must ensue. "They will think I am dead," she said to herself, " and by and by they will forget me, and May- nard will get happy again, and love some one else." She was roused from her absorption by a knock at the door. Mrs. Bellamy was there. She had come by Mr. Gilfil's re- quest to see how Miss Sarti was, and to bring her some food and wine. " You look sadly, my dear," said the old housekeeper, " an' MR GtLFIL'S L0VB-8T0ST m ASBHerg m hysterics constant, an' her maid's ill i^Lr the^s a dear S?L"^XcLU°Xu^f ^ - ^ •'«^. oIdw'?^'sCidr.T"Vst»th'"''"^ ""^ "**^« S-fr.--rrt:>^^^^ GodTeS j:lTsC^f ^°""^'^' '^-'« -^ «~^ ^^^^ an' not hear tn tmh* ™i4.i, ii. • =""iiiig piece ' she could not bear to part «nth them; it seemed as if th<, ad some of 183 SCENES OP CLBRICAL LIPK. Sii Chiistophei's love in them. She would like them to be buried with h^r. She fastened the little round e«r-ringi in her ears, and put the purse with Dorcas's box in her pocket She had another purse there, and she took it out to count her money, for she would never spend her seven-shilling pieces. She had a guinea and eight shillings; that would be plenty. So now she sat down to wait for the moming, afraid to lay herself on the bed lest she should sleep too long. If she could but see Anthony once more and kiss his cold forehead I But that could not be. She did not deserve it. She must go away from him, away from Sir Christopher, and Lady Cheverel, and Maynard, and everybody who had been kind to her, and thought her good while she was so wicked. CHAPTER XVn. Soux of Mrs. Sharp's earliest thoughts, the next moming, were given to Caterina, whom she had not been able to visit the evening before, and whom, from a nearly equal mixture of affection and self-importance, she did not at all like resigning to Mrs. Bellamy's care. At half-past eight o'clock she went up to Tina's room, bent on benevolent dictation as to doses and diet and lying in bed. But on opening the door she found the bed smooth and empty. Evidently it had not been slept in. What could this mean? Had she sat up all night, and was she gone out to walk? The poor thing's head might be touched by what had happened yesterday; it was such a shock— finding Captain Wybrow in that way; she was per- haps gone out of her mind. Mrs. Sharp looked anxiously in the place where Tina kept her hat and cloak; they were not there, so that she had had at least the presence of mind to put them on. Still the good woman felt greatly alarmed, and has- tened away to tell Mr. Gilfil, who, she knew, was in his study. "Mr. Gilfil," she said, as soon as she had closed the door behind her, "my mind misgives me dreadful about Miss Sartl." MB. GIUU'S LOVB-STORT igs nigH an' her hat^'^K i^e »' " ""^ '"^ "'"P* ^ *Ws For a minute or two Mr ofmi 1. felt sure the worst hid come fin T^^" *° «P«^. He The strong n>an suddXTlS'^"?,'' ''«f destroyed herself. Sharp began to be frightened aft^- i"^^ '""^P^**" *"' ^rs. "Oh, sir, rmgrievedto^f,. t. ?*"*."* ^""bruptness. didn't kno; who d^to ^ to":' "^^ *° "''""^ y°~ '°' b»t I aiu:j^SerdnS'nS:^'rr^'''p^- ^*- help the suffering. He wrtonlJ" ''"' *° ""*» "^"^ *» "Be sure not ^ breath^'X^^'bo ""?: r"^ imust not alarm T.,i^ nv . ™"' '* *° any one. W« Sarti Jy tZjll^t'^tr^ «« Christopher." mI* excited b> what shI «w r^te^!/"'^f • l^' ^^ ^mbly to Le do4 from r^tTeL^ tL ^^''^'' '*" """"^ empty rooms, and rXr;,he?sirthlT'''*'T«'' "^^ and look for her in the groonl » '°'^- ^ "^ «» walk'edTonc-e'^w^^ 1" mSST^ ''T J" *^« ^-"^ whom he met returning from wVl?w *'"°'' °' ^- ^^tes. he confided his CZzt^atel/ L *": ''° *^« «"'!»« thia fear the probabX tha?2^ Tl*"?* "^ * """»" f<" yesterday had LCg^Lrmi!^' "^f^ "^^ ^ undergone men in search ^r ttJlrS^ "°j, '^^S^* ''^ ^ ^^ quire if she had been s^ ft t^'iS^'"" ""/ ^^ '^^ in- found or heard of in thTtaJ ^ l„»T V""*^ •" "''« ''"'"' "<" waters romid the Manor ^' "^ ""^ *™'' ^ <^'»8Png the "God forbid it should be sn B.t^. u . e-aier for having searched e'^e^lf;^^; '"' "" ^«" *- '^e workrf:l^,;X"S;\;;'--'Mr.GiIfil. Eh, but I'd ha' «un' should ha'"^petd to rer » ""^ '''' "*"" *''"' '^^■ w«lrhe S"S;?t^r^r' .''^t "-^^ *° «•« «■*"- ^^ mig sena tne grooms on horsthack through the 184 soxmes of clerical lite. Mr. GUfll's next thought was to search the Bookery : she might be haunting the scene of Captain Wybrow's death. He went hastily over every mound, looked round every large tree, and followed every winding of the walks. In reality he had littlt aope of finding her there; but the bare possibility fenced off for a time the fatal conviction that Caterina's body would be found in the water. When the Eookery had been searched in vain, he walked fast to the border of the little stream that bounded one side of the grounds. The stream was almost everywhere hidden among trees, and there was one place where it was broader and deeper than elsewhere — she would be more likely to come to that spot than to the pool. He hur- ried along with strained eyes, his imagination continually cre- ating what he dreaded to see. There is something white behind that overhanging boagh. His knees tremble under him. He seems to see part of her dress caught on a branch, and ier dear dead face upturned. O God, give strength to thy creature, on -R-hom thou hast laid this great agony I He is nearly up to the bough, and the white object is moving. It is a waterfowl, that sprwdt, its wings and flies away screaming. He hardly knows whether it is a relief or a disappointment that she is not there. The convic- tion that she is dead presses its cold weight upon him none th • less heavily. AS he reached the great pool in front of the Manor, he saw Mr. Bates, with a group of men already there, preparing for the dreadful search which could only displace his vague de- spair by a definite horror; for the gardener, in his restless anxiety, had been unable to defer this until other means of search had proved vain. The pool was not now laughing with sparkles among the water-lilies. It looked black and cruel under the sombre sky, as if its cold depths held re- lentlessly all the murdered hope and joy of Maynard Gilfil's life. Thoughts of the sad consequences for others as well as him- self were crowding on hia mind. The blinds and shutters were all closed in front of the Manor, and it was not likely that Sir Christopher would be aware of anything that was passing outside; but Mr. Gilfil felt that Caterina's disappear- f ^.^- r^JM; '^--l^.?^'^ M- OapiL'8 LOVE-STORY CHAPTER XVIII. ««ld no longer defer the W d„ JT ""T""^ *^- ^^^ calamity to Sir Christopher who tl T''^^^ «■'" fr<"l» covered to him ubrupu/ ' "'* otherwUe have it di.- f^^'ySZ^Z^.'^^^J^J'^j^S-^'^, where the b'e light. It was the CSe L o'^«^'''"-"i' °°'^ " """■ new with him this mominj^d hetf i*^^'"' "^ ^tc'- smgle day and night of grkf h^ .inT !.*™'''' *° «»« ^o^ a l«e. in his brow and ateut Ws ™n f J " *"" "^"^ '"«°- The complexion looked dnllS tfthe^"" .T"" ''^P^^'^i ^i. ndge under hi, eyes; and fteTyt^.' ^"^ ""^ " »''°"en castso keen a glakoe'on fte p^t. W J^'^'"' ''^^^ "^^ ^ which tells that yision is no?^!^^ the vacant expression He held out hi. h^^d to MaXd! whT' •"-* '^~'y- down beside him in silence Wk .'^''.Pressed ij^ and sat sweU at this »nspok« s^mpatj^.^^^^f "'« W began to roU in great drops down hif^^kf' T^^Trf """' '^'^^ shed since boyhood were for Anttoay *"* *^ ^« "^ -?«e^trdlf .SLTT'^ *» «•« -' - ^- Chru,topher said someau^^gwhS mil r.* ''"' "°*^ ^ir words that must be spoken ^^* '*''' °° *° «>« cruel ve4*i::i;Mayrdi^ts mr?dr«^ *° -y "^•- would unman me in thisVay ClM k l?° ' ^''^'^ "'y^'i"? lad. Perhaps I've b^n I^^ " ^ ''"'^' everything on that She lost one of ?Z ^, a ul wv,°' '°^""» "^^ ""*«' proud and obstinate » "'^ ^^^^ "8°- I've been too "We can hardly W humili^ and tenderness enough tPnP^ 186 BOBinCS OF CLERICAL LIFK. m It' I m Mo«pt by tuSering," said IiUynard; "and Ood sees we are in need of suffering, for it is falling more and more heavily on US. We have a netr trouble this morning." " Tina? " said Sir Christopher, looking up anxiously " is Tina ill?" " I am in dreadful uncertainty about her. She was very much agitated yestnrday — and with her delicate health I am afraid to think what turn the agitation may have taken." " Is she delirious, poor dear little one?" " God only knows how she is. We are unable to find her. When Mrs. Sharp went up to her room this morning, it was empty. She had not been in bed. Her hat and cloak were gone. I have had search made for her everywhere — in the house and garden, in the park, and— in the water. No one has seen her since Martha went up to light her fire at seven o'clock in the evening. " While Mr. Oilfil was speaking. Sir Christopher's eyes, which were eagerly turned on him, recovered some of their old keenness, and some sudden painful emotion, as at a new thought, flitted rapidly across his already agitated face, like the shadow of a dark cloud orar the waves. When the pause came, he laid his hand on Mr. Gilfll's aim, and said in a lower voice^ " Maynard, did that poor thing love Anthony? " "She did." Maynard hesitated after these words, struggling between his reluctance to inflict a yet deeper wound on Sir Christopher, and his determination Uiat no injustice should be done to Cat- erina. Sir Christopher's eyes were still fixed on him in sol- emn inquiry, and his own sunk toward the ground, while he tried to 5nd the words that would tell the truth least cruelly. "You must not have any wrong thoughts about Tina," he said at length. "I must tell you now, for her sake, what nothing but this should ever have caused to pass my lips. Captain Wybrow won her affections by attentions which, in his position, he was bound not to show her. Before his mar- riage was talked of, he had behaved to her like a lover." Sir Christopher relaxed his hold of Maynard's arm, and looked away from him. lie was silent for some minutes, evi- MR. OILPIL'8 LOVE-STORY. Igy cUmtly attempting to .«t.r himseif, «. a. to be able to .peak -o^'SoT^^^^Z^^^^l"'' -^^'t l«t, With we must keep it from eT,^™..?' '^f^^ii^owi^; but dear boy," hi oontoue^ f^.?* ^^^ " ^" " P^^ible. My not despair: there bu. not W„ tl^.^ ^Vf ^"' '"' """* tain. Poor dear litik onel ^?T, °"«'' ^^ "» *" ^ «"- everything, and wal^re'L^au'S^ w^i^e." '^"«'* ' "'' CHAPTER xrx. Th« sad slow week was gone bv at lut * * *v ^quest a rerdiot of sudden death h^ htl *^' '^'""'» Hart, acquainted with CapC Wvt„^^'°°°"°'***- ^• health, had given his opin'oXT'deTtT hadT°^- '''** °' from long-established disease ofrt»i,?. .? "**" imminent ably been accelerated ^^^.u^.^'^^^y''}^^^ ?«>»>- was the only person who DMihvl w v "'°°J'°''- Miss Assher led Captain V^brot to ^Hw^ ^""^ ""> ™««ve that had tioaed Cater^^'tTai^e. 3^/^''7.' J-f, "Ae ^ -ot men- were etudlouslykepU^m Jer M^^\t*^ " ^'i"i-»«> pher,howeTer,LewenZhto;„„^-.°'^.'^<^ ^" Christo- wefeVeroVSeS^r^t'biru 'f. '^"^^"-^ -^ under the prepossessirth^t I ^T' ^'^ '"'«' ""^ed on one noticed aTateence 3 ftl ,' a"^ ?T*"^ ^'^"•J"- ^o desk, noonekn^wrile lifenetf 0*^1'^, \''\*"'"'° ^-"^ ''« seven-shilling pieces a^d Tl^ ^ * "^^ ^ ^<^«d J'*' should have hapS to be Ir" °.t* """^^able that she had left the hoSS°l^^j;r."t£^^^™f • «•"« «Ben,ed impossible she could W^u^f*"*/ T*^/"' '' have been in a st&t« nf ™—t "*"e gone lar and she must P^bablesheLfonVUetLTS""^ f^L'^'^^ ^» *- places within three or four Sof tte Ma^r*"- ^'«' ""^^ "»"OB 01 me ittanor were searched i, 188 SOEirBS OF CLERICAL LI7B. I and) ' pond, r ditch i I neighborhood was examined. Sometimes Maynard thought that death might hav , oome on uniought, from oold and exhauation; and not a day paiaed bat ha wandered through the neighboring woods, turning np the heaps of dead leaves, as if it were possible her dear body could be hidden there. Then another horri le thought recurred, and before each night came he had been again through all the un- inhabited rooms of the house, to satisfy himself once more that she was not hidden behind some cabinet, or door, or cuitain that he should not find her there with madness in her eyes, looking and looking, and yet not seeing him. But at last those five long days and nights were at an end, the funeral was over, and the carriages were returning through the park. When they had set out, a heavy rain was falling; but now the clouds were breaking up, and a gleam of sunshine was sparkling among the dripping boughs nnder which they were passing. This gleam fell upon a man on horseback who was jogging slowly along, and whom Mr. Gilfil recognized, in spite of diminished rotundity, as Daniel Knott, the coachman who had married the rosy-cheeked Dorcas ten years before. Every new incident suggested the same thought to Mr. Gil- fil; and his eye no sooner fell on Knott than he said to him- self, " Can he be come to tell us anything about Caterina? " Then he remembered that Caterina had been very fond of Dor- cas, and that she always had some present ready to send her when Knott paid an occasional visit to the Manor. Gould Tina have gone to Dorcas? But his heart sank again as he thought, very likely Knott had only come because he had heard of Captain Wybrow's death, and wanted to know how his old master had borne the blow. As soon as the carriage reached the house, he went np to his study and walked about nervously, longing, but afraid, to go down and speak to Knott, lest his faint hope should be dissi- pated. Any one looking at that face, usually so full of calm good-will, would have seen that the last weed's suffering had left deep traces. By day he had been riding or wandering incessantly, either searching for Caterina himself, or directing inquiries to be made by others. By night he had not known iJ^ ""• OnJU'8 LOVB-STORV. Jgg tie full oarelew lips hadT.taTJ^ '""'""' ""^ "»«««, the brow, formerly BO 'm<^tS''^f„*«""°" »l»"t them, and with pain. HehLnotZ tt:°„1,°P«,V.'r°"'"'''''*'«' ^ sion; he had lost the beinR Tho w..^ / ^^^ '"™'*''' P«- ot loving, as the bTook^!2,°ZZl "S "''^ ^'' PO'er ered in childhood r^ tound u^vL°' "^^ ^°"'" ''« P'th- Love meant nothing for hTbntL, T "^ "' ^•'^^■ the thought of her Ld bZorlnf "^^ ^^*'"'"' ^°' y^". "d the light, and not she C?°V uT'^''."*' "''"' '^'' "' are had lost its vehicle: the Jkv th- -t ""v*^ " " »" P^"'^' daily talk might be the«, Ke^„ T^' ""* ''"'y ""l*. the were in them had gone forevel "'""^ *"'* "■• j°y that beS'sCaloVri^dran1''t:"'" ^^ ^-"•^'^ »"« be^t to brinj hirto^iu £t" '" °' *^ '"*^- I «>-8l't it wn^g4t rtttt\^\rrt„^« -'t "-'*- ""^ tioned to him to take a «w u ^^ ^^"*»''' *°'l only mo- He hung „p„„ ^a^tirmSa^'td'^iT" i"'' ""' ^° piping voice, with the sZTl!^: T ^'^^ ^ ^^ """»" which he would have riZ ^T 7^""°*' "Peotation with from the land of shadeT "^ *° ^^^ "««t awful messenger no2.TwtSvSerSt';rM' "•""•^ "»* - ■-"-•^ out on her wita abou?EVaL^„^Z" mI'^ '"«'^*«"''d Blackbird this momin'. ^' We fh^ ^°?'^^''^"'« «»'^'"«' letSirChristifer ^myTadvTo,^ Vlougbu,', to come an' sir, we don't keep the Cross Kjsi ^^" ^""'"^ ^'"'^ minedied three 'ear wo 1.^^" Sl°ppeternow; a uncleo' to Squire Ramble, ^^Ttl^ Z " K^^f^' "' ^^ ''^''« -^.wetookalittlefarm^^^^^^i^^-rboJitL' 190 Bomnrn of clbrioal ura. 1. « Dorkia didn't like the publio whan ihe got moitkcrad wi' ohU- dren. At pritty ft place aa irer you a«e, air, wi' wstar at the back oonvanent for the oattle." " For Ood'a aake," aaid Maynard, " tell me what it it about Miia 8arti. Don't ttay to tell me anything elie now." "Well, air," aaid Knott, rather frightened by the paraon'a ▼ehemenoe, "ahe oome t' our houie i' the oarrier'a cart o' Wedneaday, when it waa welly nine o'clock at night; and Dorkia run out, for ahe beared the cart atop, an' Miaa Sarti throwed her arma roun' Dorkia'a neck an' aaya, ' Tek me in, Dorkia, tek me in,' an' went off into a awoond, like. An' Dorkia calla out to me,—' Dannel,' ahe oalla — an' I run out and carried the young miaa in, an' she come roun' arter a bit, an' opened her eyea, and Dorkia got her to drink a spoon- ful o' rum-an'-water — we've got some capital rum aa we brought from the Cross Keys, and Doikis won't let nobody drink it She says she keeps it for sickness; but for my part, I think it's a pity to drink good rum when your mouth'a out o' taste; you may just aa well her doctor'a stuff. How- ever, Dorkia got her to bed, an' there she's lay iver sin', stoopid like, on' niver speaks, an' on'y teks little bits an' sups when Dorkis coaxes her. An' we begun to be fright- ened, and couldn't think what had made her oome away from the Manor, and Dorkis was afeared there was summat wrong. So this momin' she could hold no longer, an' would hev no nay but I muat oome an' see; an' so I've rode twenty mile npo' Blackbird, as thinks all the while he's a-ploughin', an' turns sharp roun', every thirty yarda, as if he waa at the end of a furrow. I've lisd a sore time wi' him, I can tell you, sir." "God bless you, Knott, for coming!" said llr. Oilfil, wringing the old coachman's hand again. " Kow go down and have something and rest yourself. You will stay here to- night, and by and by I shall come to you to learn the nearest way to your housu. I shall get ready to ride there immedi- ately, when I have spoken to Sir Christopher." In an hour from that time Mr. Gilfil was galloping on a stout r.are toward the little muddy village of C^lam, five miles beyond Sloppeter. Once more he saw some gladness in the afternoon sunlight; once more it was a pleasure to see the aiSk. ^ .'':lr:','^«?i''8P"tWm, Jra. OILFttS LOVEHTOBT. 191 uid t -„.„ u„ Diae* KiM„ w. J . ** <'°"»oloui of a " good •It whi.tW to the rhX ^oj*C "^ '"°"*^ '"•'"' -^^ •uffenng «K,n,ed .o .tr^B «,«„ . *""'•"»••• wd long- violjnt that it c^riZiT hope°',f "P"'' "i' '•»»«"d "- «> »^«k they had ever rei^h^^ cLT "^ '" '" "" "'"°«t Wm at laat; ,h. J~- 9»*"i«a would com. to lore through all that dark and wearv- u'^ ^^ '*«° «""«! depth of hi. lore KoThl S?. '^•'^ '^ "^8'" k-"' the w th the timid bright ^e. Ld^. <"'«"«i W-hi. little bird with love and muafel ^he wouS "!?' "■"** """ *"""Wed poor little breaet which C T^n t „« J^'^l'' ^^' «d the be .afefor evermore. la" eTv.^/!**^ '"'» ^^^"^ •bould there i. alway. a strain of m«to™°f ' ''"^•' ""^ '"thful man again thoee beams of v^^T\,^^^"""' ''« Pves out hm « he lay on his mSftS"""'" ''''''' ""• -^-d on j-^ja h'rsLi"botdrb^,tr«L"' ^•"-' -<>. earned that it was by the oW,h .W ^ ^"'''^ ^°°«'«. ^jyclBd spire on a sliihrelevt^n' 7 "^ '^'^'^ •" ''"n'Pr tion to the means ^id^!^? t '^°^^-' ' """"'"l ad^- affords! by D«,iel.sdeiS^^..v" !^''?^»''^* '«»»««tead •ee '-though a -mall^ZtdTull^' f If" '"'^ ""' ^0° cow-yar^il- -- ^^ed tHe ^^^ heading into the prematurely invested with t« , ""^""-haired lad of nine, whoranfo^dtoletii th^" '''^«,''*>^". " '""ock-froo^ Dorcas was at the do^r tiie 1? "t' ''"'*°'- ^^ a moment made horse. Oilfil, sir?" said Dorcas way through the 'i courtesying low as he •iainp straw, after tying up his 193 BOBMXS OF OLBRIOAL UFS. I "Tei, Doicas; I'm grown out of your knowledge. How If MiasSapti?" " Jost for all the world the atone, sir, as I suppose Dannel't told you; foi I nokaa yoa've come from the Manor, though you're oome uncommon quick, to be sure." " Yes, he got to the Manor about one o'clock, and I set off as soon as I could. She's not worse, is she? " " No change, sir, for better or wuss. Will you please to walk in, sir? She lies tbisre takin' no notice o' nothin', no more nor a baby as is on'y a week old, an' looks at me as blank as if she didn't know me. Oh what can it be, Mr. Oilfil? How come she to leave the Manor? How's his honor an' my lady? " " In great trouble, Dorcas. Captain Wybrow, Sir Christo- pher's nephew, you know, has died suddenly. Miss Sarti found him lying dead, and I think the shock has affected her mind." " Eh, dear I that fine y onng gentleman as was to be th' heir, as Daunel told me about. I remember seein' him when he was a little un, a-visitin' at the Manor. Well-a-day, That a grief to his honor and my lady. But that poor Miss Tina an' she found him a-lyiu' dead? Oh, dear, oh dear I " Dorcas had led the way into the beat kitchen, as charming a room as best kitchens used to be in farmhouses which had no parlors — the fire reflected in a bright row of pewter plates and dishes; the sand-scoured deal tables so clean you longed to stroke them ; the salt-coffer in one chimney-corner, and a three-eoniered chair in the other, the walls behind handsomely tapestried with flitches of bacon, and the ceiling ornamented with pendent hams. "Sit ye down, sir — do," said Dorcas, moving the three-cor- nered chair, "an' let me get you somethin' after your long journey. Here, Becky, oome an' tek the habj." Becky, a red-armed damsel, emerged from the adjoining back-kitchen, and possessed herself of baby, wliose feelings or fat made him conveniently apathetic under the transference. " What'U you please to tek, sir, as I can give you ? I'll get you a rasher o' bacon i' no time, an' I've got some tea, or be- like you'd tek a glass o' ram-an'-water. I know we've got li^ MB. OILFIL'S LOTE-STOBT. IM ootlun' a.yoa'peu«dt' eat and drink; but such a. I hey air, I BhaU be proud to give you " "" a» i nev, "Thank you, Doroaa; I can't eat or drink anything I'm not^ungryortired. Let us talk about Tina. flCTeVk^ « Niver rinoe the fust words. ' Dear Dorkia, ' says she ' tek me m '; an' then went off into a faint, an' no a wd hi ^^ Z^Z rr ^ "'' •"" *' -"* "">« Wte an' sups o' Snt but she teka no notice o' nothin'. I've tnoV ..Vw. •, Eh^ T""^* "'^^ «?«• »t the gentleman_^fotts.U theMa^r, it mig^bring back h^rmi/^'^r'" """''°" Maynard had that hope too, but he felt colk mist, of fear ih,"„?ti;fT' "T^ ""■ "• i». ^. i4 but dc-i „. „,. ve^ hard to pass another night in this way " Dorcas set down little Bessie, and went awav Th. *i,-. other children, inoludine vonn^ TlTnil? • T?^" ," *'"^ 194 SCENES OP CLEBIOAL LIFE. [/ Bhook her yellow " '« actions. We don't se^eX,J^e^3^t,r'"r'' ''~*^' """^ while- ^ ^" ^"^ '^°'ly. «d was silent. After a " I don't know. " aha oaiA. ht toward n.e, just i hJ^^rJ^Xll^^ '^r"^* —I meant to do it " looked, and I meant "^^^^'uJ^^l^-^'^l^^-^^-^ Tina." I don't know C rt wal ^IT Tf *^°'^^* ''« "" i"- knelt down and spoke teZ^ '^ ^ ^"«°' everything. I of me, and his eyT ter^fl^ l^7Z^ """ *°°'' "° »°««' dead." "***' ""* I l^gan to think he was «m?n^°" ^'^ '"'^'" *«^* ""817 since?" JNo, Tina; the fault has not aU been vo,,r.. i he gave you provocation. And^^HZ.' ^ ""^ '^°«! people use us ill, we can harX hT ^* "^ '^°8- ^''en them. But thai seconTi^ttr^T""* I',"'"*""* *»''»«» sinful than you, Tina: iZL „^" ««»»We. I am more toward Capt4i WyZw- ^^ ^ ^ ^^"^ '""^ f«»li»8S did you, I Uiould Sm Weli! j"^ i^'°'°^<^ "■« as he " Oh, it was not w wron^L v T*."^ "">" '^"k^d." hurt me. How wwltUkell h ^,L ^ ^^'^ ^^^ how he And how could zz^^j:, H^f r°;r '^■^^'^ ^' . Maynard made no r^y to^L !S^ ^""^ ^-k" """■ " tm Tina said- ^^ "' ""^ *''«e was again sUenoe^ 198 somns OR clerical lite. pher himtelf has felt, sinoe this trouble came upon him, that he has been too seyere and obstinate. " In this way — in these broken confessions and answering words of oomfort — the hours wore on, from the deep black night to the chill early twilight, and from early twilight to the first yellow streak of morning parting the purple cloud. Mr. Gilfil felt as if in the long hours of that night the bond ttat united his love for ever and alone to Caterina had acquired fresh strength and sanctity. It is so with the human rela- tions that rest on the deep emotional sympathy of affection : every new day and night of joy or sorrow is a new ground, a new consecration, for the love that is nourished by memories as well as hopes— the lore to which perpetual repetition is not a weariness but a want, and to which a separated joy is the beginning of pain. The cocks began to orowj the gate swung; there was a tramp of footsteps in the yard, and Mr. Gilfil heard Dorcas stirring. These sounds seemed to affect Caterina, for she looked anxiously at him and said, " Maynard, are you going away?" "No, I shall stay here at Callam until you are better, and then you will go away too." " Never to the Manor again, oh no I I shall live poorly, and get my own bread." "Well, dearest, you shai< do what you would like best. But I wish you could go to sleep now. Try to rest quietly, and by and by yon will perhaps sit up a little. God has kept you in life in spite of all this sorrow; it will be sinful not to try and make the best of His gift. Dear Tina, you will try; — and little Bessie brought you some crocuses once, you didn't notice the poor little thing; but you will notice her when she comes again, will yon not? " "I will try," whispered Tina, humbly, and then closed her eyes. By the time the sun was above the horizon, scattering the clouds, and shining with pleasant morning warmth through the little leaded window, Caterina was asleep. Maynard gen- tly loosed the tiny hand, cheered Dorcas ;rith the good news, and made his way to the village inn, witb a thankful heart 1 MR- OIUU-S LOVK-STOBT. 199 S!i^'S;j^«1S;r.S^r::fth^^^^ Evidently the .ight ^i WM absorbed, boused The next thing to be SonT^i^ to .eT*r"" "^ '">'^^- Pher and lady Cheyerelithrto write ^?"*" *" ^" ^''""^ under whoee care he had deter^ir^^ ? '"mmon Wsaieter, Manor, even if she had^„ w^v •^.'° ^^ Caterina. The ke knew, be the rZt ^e^^^.*° '«',"* *^^'- ^°^t every scene, every objLt tte'^!. * ^' """' «* P""""*! allayed anguish if ^iTewer? 7 ""oowted with still un- his mild geftle sist^, wh7^^ a Z^'T.' "" ' **"« ^'^ tl>ng little boy, Tina miKhtirttairr /'""•' "«* » P™*" "cover, partly at lea.rrsht^ttatTJ.r:'''" '^«' ""^ consbtution. When he had ^tt^' 1,^? ^ P^"" *» her l>asty breakfast, he was a^^t^ »»» letters and taken a to Sloppeter. where Lw^d posm^St r^.' °° ^^ -'^ o«l man, to whom he might oonfilfr" ^^ f**^ ""* » ""edi- rina's enfeebled condition *^ °"'"^ <»'»« »* Cate- CHAPTEB XX. ^^?al:ri„"rcomSbl°:SiT„f ^r ^'^ ^---''^ fil and his sister, Mrs H»™ ^ °^" **« '«'» °f ^- GU- manners were v^^ooSSr'to ST^** ^'! •'^- -^-l "^^ more so as they had aT^f ^ !f ! P?*" ''"'i»«> ohild-the quite new to her^ VnZ^rcZT^X'^'^^' ''^^^ ^»^ •tative good-will. TinaStCSIS""''^*''"*''"*^"- fnd awe, and there waa a 8w^ne« W ""i!*"" constraint mg a young and gentle woms^^tk^ TZT^T ^ ^''^- over her caressingly and spe^it WW ?*"'' '^°'«°8 <^ recoverable decline, wVrnrdS':/ ^^^ -- 900 80BNX8 OF CLSBIOAL LIFB. guardian angel, of being with Iter ereiy hour d the day, of deviling eTerything for her oomfort, of watching for a ray of returning interest in her eyes, was too absorbing to leave room for alarm or regret. On the third day the carriage drove up to the door of Fox- holm Parsonage, where the Bev. Arthur Heron prseented him- self on the door-step, eager to greet his returning Luoy, and holding by the hand a broad-chested tawny-haired boy of five, who was smacking a miniature hunting-whip with great vigor. Kowhere was there a lawn mor" smooth-shaven, walks bet- ter swept, or a porch more pre utily festooned with creepers than at Fozholm Parsonage, standing snugly sheltered by beeches and chestnuts half-way down the pretty green hill which was suiinounted by the church, and overlooking a vil- lage that straggled at its ease among pastures and meadows, 8urround(>d by wild hedgerows and broad shadowing treeii, as yet unthreatened by improved methods of farming. Brightly the fire shone in the great parlor, and brightly in the little pink bedroc i, which was to be Caterina's, because it looked away from the churchyard, and on to a fann home- stead, with its little cluster of beehive ricks, and pladd groups of cows, and cheerful matin sounds of healthy labor. Mrs. Heron, with the instinct of a delicate impressible woman, had written to her husband to have this roon; prepared for Oaterina. Contented speckled hens, industiiously scratching for the rarely found com, may sometimes do more for a sick heart than a grove of nightingales; there is something irre- sistibly calming in the unsottimental cheeriness of topknotted pullets, ^inpetted sheep-dogs, and patient cart-horses enjoying I drink of muddy water. In such a home as this parsonage, a nest of comfort, with- out any of the stateliness that would carry a suggestion of Cheverel Manor, Mr. GUfil was not imreasonable in hoping that Caterina might gradually shake off the haunting vision of the past, and recover from the languor and feebleness which were the physical sign of that vision's blighting presence. The next thing to be done was to arrange an exchange of du- ties with Mr. Heron's curate, that Maynard might be con- stantly near Oaterina, and watch over her progress. She MR. OILnL-8 LOVB-STORT Ml Ji. unci.'. e4 t^f rVaSe^'Jiet'tJ til very unperative in demanding Tina', eympathTtathe wel^ of hie guinea-pig^ •juirrel^ and dormice. W^th hi^^ atnwart the leaden clouds, and many hours of winter wentK? the more eaaily.for being spent in oLy's nur^eS"^' ^ one^f l^'SlIl^ °°* '"""'"^ "^^ had no instrument, but S*t a^tf '^^ '?""" '"* '"™^ toward t^nfit Se^tLI^t' """ '^°". «°°'' •'y- «"<» ^ ^^ waited i^^l The utmost improvement in Tina had not gone beyond paslw^ h^aonr-nrr^cSTrwir^^^^ Snll'^^X^" "^ '"''*'' •"' "^ '^^ ^*° S M»^o rt ^"^"""^ '^*^ » T^""""^ "f appro«,hing S^e^gLX^.Y^.^the^iL'^^'^^'^^^^^^^^ L^wl \ *°''"^f ®° pleasure, came to the harpsichord and struck the handle of his whip on a deep bass note. ' shiw > °^ ""''"'"* ^^•'"S'' Caterina like an electric ^In^tJT i°^ '"'^'^*'' " •^««P«'' "">«> eignificantlife s^i^ t"""*^ '"" *"•» *• '»*«' "^d walked to the hZ sMhord. In a moment her fingers were wandering wT^S It. true familiar element of delicious «>Bnd, as the watei^ 302 S0BME8 or OliBRIOAL Lint plant thu liM withered and ihrunken on the gmsd etpuda into freedom and beauty when onoe man bathed in ita natin flood. Maynard thanked God. An aetive power waa reawakened, and moat make a new epoch in Caterina'e recovery. Preeently there were low liquid notes blending themselTee with the harder tones of the instrument, and gradually the pure voice swelled into predominance. Little Ozzy stood in the middle of the room, with his mouth open and his legs very wide apart, struck with something like awe at this new power in " Tin-Tin," as he caUed her, whom he had been accustomed to think of as a playfellow not at all clever, and very much in need of his instruction on many subjects. A. genie soaring with broad wings out of his milk-jug would not have been more astonishing. Caterina was singing the very air from the Or/eo which we heard her singing so many months ago at the beginning of her sorrows. It was Che farb. Sir Christopher's favorite, and its notes seemed to cwry on their wings all the tenderest memo- ries of her life, when Cheverel Manor waa still an untroubled home. The long happy days of childhood and girlhood recov- ered all their rightful predominance over the short interval of sin and sorrow. She paused, and burst into tears— the first tears she had shed since she had been at Foxholm. Maynard oould not help hurrying toward her, putting his arm round her, and leaning down to kiss her hair. She nestled to him, and put up her little moqth to be kissed. The delicate-tendrilled plant must have something to cling to. The soul that was bom anew to music was bom anew to love. CHAPTER XXI. On the 30th of May, 1790, a very pretty sight was seen by the villagers assembled near the door of Foiholm church. The sun was bright upon the dewy grass, the air was alive with the murmur of bees and the trilling of birds, the bushy HB. GOFIfS T.OV1.BT0BT. 3og bloMoming ohMtnuts and the touav flow«,^„» i. j -»m^ to be crowding round to W^ .r J^' hadgerowi with bapS«^S?;„rofKd oS.'" ■"" ""«" l^STg^orrhraTS'^SriJ* -l^prett, Mr.. Heron known in Foxholm Ldh^^i J^ "^^ ""^ '''"'"to """ ter" F„^ . "^o' ''^"' ^ "»'' » Pi<"n'." "aid old "Me.- fer'8 «on-he favors him. " ^^ ' '^ ^" •^"» " " Nay, yae'll bet that wi' as big a fule as v«r«n . i, . son at all. As T onnH««it.«> u • A Jersen hae's noo nor th,B un, as died in a fit. aU on a soodden, an''s^ S.^* At the got upo' th' perch istid.' ^ r.sf-si'-r- rjtfs: rrs ao4 SOJtNBS or CLXRIOAL LITB. gioom AppfOMhtd. H« bad com* all th* way from OlMTcnl Manor on puipoM to im MIm Tina bappy onoe more, uA would have bean in a state of anmized joy but for tbe infe- riority of tbe wedding noaegays to wbat be oould bare fnr- niabed from the garaen at the Manor. " Ood A'maighty bleu ye both, an' (end ye long laife an' happinesa," were tbe good gardener's rather tremulous words, " Thank you, uncle Bates ; always remember Tina, " said tbe sweet low voice, which fell on Mr. Bates's ear for the last time. The wedding jouruey was to be a circuitous route to Shep- pertOD, where Mr. Oilfil had been for several months inducted as vicar. This small living had been given him through tbe interest of an old friend who had some claim on the gratitude of the Oldinpovt family; and it was a satisfaction both to Maynard and Sir Chn:;copher that a borne to which be might take Cateiina had thus readily presented itself at a distance from Gheverel Manor. For it had never yet besn thought safe that nhe should revisit tbe scene of her nufferings, her health continuing too delicate to encourage the slightest risk of pain- ful excitement. In a year or two, perhaps, by tbe time old Mr. Criohley, the rector of Cumbermoor, should have left a world of gout, and when Catenna would very likely be a bappy mother, Maynard might safely take up his abode at Cumber- moor, and Tina would feel nothing but content at seeing a new "little Mack-ayed monkey" running up and down tbe gallery and gardens of the Manor. A mother dreads no mem- ories — those shadows have all melted away in the dawn of baby's smile. In thme hopes, and in the onjoyment of Tina's nestling affection, Mr. GiliSl tasted a few months of perfect happiness. She hod come to lean entirely on bis love, and to find life sweet for his sake. Her continual languor and v ant of active interest was a natural consequence of bodily feebleness, and the prospect of her becoming a mother was a new ground for hoping the best. But the delicate plant had been oo deeply bruised, aud in the struggle to put forth a blossom it died. Tina died, and Maynard Oilfil's love went with her into deep silence for evermore. KH. onju'8 uyrt-noKT. MS EPILOGUE. •oantv whit* h.i J ♦!.. B'V ainwent w they aeem from th* -ey; m th. bright i^^.TpSL^l'l' ?.' '""•''"•'• i<~'- their beckoning m.iden.^en^? J'!? "" •'••'^'«» of th.t bring, u. to the otter .wf^fM " '^' ^y'' t«^«l Val«U. "** '°"*« •*" 8""°«1 voice, of the iog^X:Xx;7^r«"oii^tr:T-'''^^'-' hap. have been hard to believe if.tT.'^i'' " """'"^ P"" Maynard GilBl whTwiU, . 7..!*^ » / '""' "•' '*«'' tbe nj; had »^ htVa^^i^';:i°/^jrf "«» tender- way to Callam. or that tl,r„M ., "''"**"* 8*1-P on the andbuoolio^'t^r!^*.^'.°\«??'l«'»'»° of oau.tio tongue night, of «g^Ub ^d t^l ^T'^'i""* *""«'' '" <1V» «Bd And indeed tSS;. oJ^of ttorf? JSl "^P^^We joy,, more of the kno^ and ^.i^ J'^lf \'P'*'*"° "^"J" J"«l there lay any clear hhitiT^r P°*" '"™*° """«e than But it U Witt Zr^th^ret* T-^f l°-«8 Maynard. branches, into which thl^w«~!l ^"l" ^°^ "*' t^"'*^ «"«* the wound, war^ heatfd o^rT* ""■" ^"^8 Hfe-jnioe, odd excre«,encei «id wTat Zht^l "°Z' "'"«'' '^'' ''°'"» Panding into inJZ Thl f tut « ^° ' ^T** -"^ "" trunk. Many an irritate fc,o» '^"""oal misshapen has come of aCd 1™7 1\ \'^*°'^ "" '"'^°'«ly oddity, the natur. just wWT^I' ^T^t'"". """"^"'^ '^'' ""^«d and tta triWal eS We whiT""^ ^'" P'*""*""" b<«"t7i may be but as ttTZSdv »1^' T* ^'"^ °" ^'"'^ ^amt « withered. ^ ""•*"* °* " «*» '^''o.^ best limb And so tte dear old Vioar, ttough he had sometting of tt. 3oe 80BHE8 OF OLERIOAL UTS. kootted whimiioal charaetei of the pooi lopped o^ hsd yet been sketched oat by nature as a noble tree. The heart of him was sound, the grain was of the finest; and in the gray- haired man who filled his pooket with sugar-plums for the lit- tle children, whose most biting words were directed against the evil doing of the rich man, and who, with all his social pipes and slipshod talk, never sank below the highest level of his parishioners' respect, there was the main trunk of the same brave, faithful, tender nature that had poured out the finest, freshest forces of its lif e-ouirent in a first and only love — the love of Tina, <^ JANET'S REPENTANCE. CHAiTEE I. inadvartenUy oor"niSX?CuS:l ^^t^'' ^^^^ of sneezing— an accident ^ l,h k!^ ^ ^^^ » sererefit I«"l caused WtoTdrilr^ ^??« "'"'^y inisunderstood. hanging forwaiTweieW dl?^ ^'*'^ ^' '^'^ ^^ h««i oocipu/aad a bS foi.' Cl*^' ^^ P«'P°'«'«"«>t oUpped coronal .Xe U^at^'*'°, '^'^ "" "^""^l^ land. The onlyX oSrSblef™!""^ new-mown tabl^ and a protruding yet U^e^TStt orj"" ^f' "'"'''^ enchhypocriS^cSlif^f™*;^-" trouble to put down "I W well TouS whJTtf^'s '^"''°°' ""* "■* "^1". Kood.r-.or wen^^ir ^r/w::^^^-— SOS SOENXS OF CLERICAL LIFB. -i; >'; 1 Ji i mischief. There's work enough with the servant-nuuds as it is — such as I never heard the like of in my mother's time, and it's all along o' your schooling and newfangled p' is. Give me a servant as can nayther read nor write, I say, d doesn't know the year o' the Lord as she was bom in. 1 should like to know what good those Sunday schools have done, now. Why, the boys used to go a bird's-nesting of a Sunday morn- ing ; and a capital thing too — ask any farmer; and very pretty it was to see the strings o' heggs hanging up in poor people's houses. You'll not see 'em nowhere now." "Poohl " said Mr. Luke Byles, who piqued himself on his reading, and was in the habit of asking casual acquaintances if they knew anything of Hobbes; "it is right enough that the lower orders' should be instructed. But this sectarianism within the Church ought to be put down. In point of fact, these Evangelicals are not Churchmen at all ; they're no bet- ter than Presbyterians." "Presbyterians? what are they?" inquired Mr. Tomlinson, who often said his father had given him " no eddioation, and he didn't care who knowed it; he could buy up most o' th' eddicated men he'd ever come across." " The Presbyterians," said Mr. Dempster, in rather a louder tone than before, holding that every appeal for information must naturally be addressed to him, "are a sect founded in the reign of Ghaj:les I., by a man named John Presbyter, who hatched all the brood of Dissenting vermin that crawl about in dirty alleys, and circumvent the lord of the manor in order to get a few. yards of ground for their pigeon-house conventicles." "No, no, Dempster," said Mr. Luke Byles, "you're out there. Presbyterianism is derived from the word presbyter, meaning an elder." "Don't contradict me, sirl" stormed Dempster. "I say the word presbyterian is derived from John Presbyter, a mis- erable fanatic who wore a suit of leather, and went about froui town to village, and from village to hamlet, inoculating the vulgar with the asinine virus of Dissent." "Come, Byles, that seems a deal more likely," said Mr. Tomlinson, in a conciliatory tone, apparently of opinion that history was a process of ingenious guessing. JAHBT'S BBPEKTANCa. 309 ment." ' ^oyoiopsBdia, and show it you this mo- of which you picked upTL^J^° °^ ^'^ mfomation paper. Will you tell L 8^^ T^ 1° " ""S" °* '""*« Presbyterianis ? I .t ' "^ *'"'* ^ ^""^ ^^^ the origin of sir, are ignored by ^Very fl ' t T? ?"^^'«" ^l^"«you «Uey in which you wer^breT" * "^'"" '^^ "'"«»W« inr^.-.^wnedtheretortt^V^'^^' °^ ^<"»P«te' in^ who, white with ra^f^eld w^T"?^''™'"^ ^^- ^yles, "A n.eddlesom^ups^TJ^*'^ ?*°^ *''•"'"• continued Mr. S^Zf^^iT T* *""'"'' ^eBtlemen," him. What doelTe"^*:^ by thZi^fr^l^ •*" "« ""^ »' Pany? A man with abou? m much Z, "I"*" '?*° ""^ «"^- erty, which, to my knowled^eT.„ ^^J^'^!? '" ^^ •"» P^i" An insolvent athefsCgSl Tf"^^^7 ^'""' ^^«" »°°«- in the chimney-comer^ ^T^;; '*^"*"^ P™**^. «» to sit -mments on ^Z grla^'n t'^,^,!^ ""*/. ^^««P^~ "■g tinkers. I will not fXtT,^*"""* "^ beer-swiU- speaks lightly of religion The siZn*""^^ " ""^ ^^° Byles would be a blot fn our J^t^ *"" °' » ^"^^^ «ke piigt! £^di"t »'^- man h. i« „ot to be srerT*)..^ l*"* ^°°^''- TeU a flood-.,ates of all immoS ^^r. "'""^ "^^ y""* °P«° the W^ators, they're .dTfi- onis bTt^l Z "^^ *^*"^ •^«°« drawling, hypocritical fellows X^^ ^^' smooth-faced, in their mou^, and cry T^^^ -^ '**""* «^8" ^"'t ^oi hearts are all the bCkerCf-^"^* pleasures, their Haven't we been wS aeSst^™ *°\'^°"'°"'' °»'"'J«'- outside of the cup and the C.TK ")" ""-^^ "'"^ *e he goes about pr^yinR wUh 'wt ^'** " *^" ^^y^' "ow, %:chUdren, b'ut'whft'ht te rZT'^V"^' "''^ "^ while? A domineeriuK ambiti™!rf *^' ^" ^^^ °" a" the wants is to get hU f^ fa!:^„„ T-*^*""'*' gentlemen; all he Crewe's shoL when te oTd ZuiTd*'' ^T"" "^ ""^^ -^ whenever you see a mrp^tenT^ ^'k ^u"^^ "P°° ^^ neighbors, that man hw^iXr .n * ^ ^ ^^^' '^an h^ Ws heart is rotten'^i'^s^wL^pX^"^ ""' *° =«'-' - ^'^P^Ll^^^^^Z^f^^t.i.^.^.l sin, Mr. grin., who^ taste wLCdeturftt't^*''" "^^ ^'^ ?"" -hat. the .an," a^st^^^^^XS^ ^ ^^-^ 313 B0KNE8 OF OLBRIOAL LITIi. Tomlimon. "Wa start for Elmstoke Bcotory on Tuesday morning; so, if you mean to give us your signatnn, you most make up your mind pretty quickly, Pilgrim." Kr. Pilgrim did not in the least mean it, so he only said, " I shouldn't woniler if Tryan turns out too many for you, after all. He's got a well-oiled tongue of his own, and has perhaps talked over Prendergast into a determination to stand by him." "Ve-ry little fear of that," said Dempster, in a confident tone. " I'll soon bring him round. Tryan has got his match. I've plenty of rods in pickle for Tryan." At this moment Boots entered the bar, and put a letter into the lawyer's hands, saying, " There's Trower's man just come into the yard wi' a gig, sir, an' he's brought this here letter." Mr. Dempster read the letter and said, "Tell him to turn the gig — I'll be with him in a minute. Here, run to Gruby's and get this snuff-box filled — quick! " " Trower's worse, I suppose; eh, Dempster? Wants you to alter his will, eh? " said Mr. Pilgrim. "Business — business — business — I don't know exactly what," answered the cautious Dempster, rising deliberately from his chair, thrusting on his low-crowned ha^ and walking with a slow but not imsteady step out of the bar. "I never see Dempster's equal; if I did I'll be shot," said Mr. Tomlinson, looking after the lawyer admiringly. "Why, he's dmnk the best part of a bottle o' brandy since here we've been sitting, and I'll bet a guinea, when he's got to Trower's his head '11 be as clear as mine. He knows more about law when he's drunk than all the rest on 'em when they're sober." "Ay, and other things too, besides law," said Mr. Budd. "Did you notice how he took up Byles about the Presbyteri- ans? Bless your heart, he kiiow everything, Dempster does. He studied very hard when he was a yi ng man." ji ( JAOTT'S HUPBNTAlfOK. na CHAPTBB II. taken place in MiTby whVn M^ t^°' '* '^'^^ ^"^7 h»ve -doldM. Crewe, '^^^,^^^72?°"™'-^ *^''"' traveller may look out hwh^K n'- ^'" '''« ^''V London bag, W tr^Ta^W iS: .^^'^^'^S ^^^ their leatter There ia a resident rfotor^So l^TT V^" """"t^ ^wn. b« hearers with aU tTelSJens^Sn^ *^«r'"»i»'»s of keeps his own oarriam VhTT J^T^'t^es cf a divine who hundred sitting^f ih^*"^^ '" f "K^d by at least five formedprinciple, hM teufjn. *"'' '^"^""'^^ °» «>- teel youth of MU^ ihe Z««°'™'..''"'"f *"* '^'^ *« «f»- excess at dinner-i^iies th.f f k .S ^f" ^ ^*° "° "'ber tuous excess of sCrv?nH.t^''^'^i'^''''"-''«'d ^^ vir- sometin.es to ta^^t^ m;orul°:f '^^^''' "« «""' »i«i Wn to take too l^ch L^'a^y^thX "i,*^^ "" "'^"^ IS sometimes quite literarv fnr ti!^ ■ I' ^^^ conversation and many of Ihe yoS'lI^l^r " * fl-T-J^i"? book-club, &r as to have f orS a Se «r "^f '^^^ "*"'*''» "^ now a refined, mo:^^Ld M^^/^' '" '^''^' ^^l^ " bling the Milby of forT, dtf ^^"1"^' °° T" '"»•""- drabgreat-coatthatembarrSth«^„H ,"^'' long-sWrted, resembled the light nale^Mn ti. ! ** °* our grandfathers the muddiest st.SKTha^Xt,JeV'"^ ^g over a tankard iA the oW ^ign of trTwo T*°°'''n"^°'°- 2?c;.r-rrm^^ri£-^^^^^^^ i^^ 314 SOEKBS OF OLBRIOAL LITE. I.»fii i<* things, and transport your imagination to a time whan Milby had no gas-lights; when the mail drove up dusty or bespat- tered to the door of the Bed Lion; when old Mr. Crewe, the ornate, in a brown Brutus wig, delivered inaudible sermons on a Sunday, and on a week-day imparted the education of a gen- tleman — that is to say, an arduous inacquaintanoe with Latin through the medium of the Eton Grammar — to three pupils in the upper grammar-school. If you had passed through Milby on the ooaoh at that time, you would have had no idea what important people lived there, and how very high a sense of rank was prevalent among them. It was a dingy-looking town, with a strong smell of tanning up one street and a great shaking of handlooms up another ; and even in that focus of aristocracy, Friar's Gate, the houses would not have seemed very imposing to the hasty and super- ficial glance of a passenger. You might still less have sus- pected that the fijpire in light fustian and large gray whis- kers, leaning against the grocer's door-post in High Street, was no less a person than Mr. Lowme, one of the most arbtooratio men in Milby, said to have been "brought up a gentleman," and to have had the gay habits accordant with that station, keeping his harriers and other expensive animals. He waj now quite an elderly Lothario, reduced to the most economical tins ; the prominent form of his gayety being this of lounging at Mr. Gruby's door, embarrassing the servant-maids who came for grocery, and talking scandal with the rare passers-by. Still, it was generally understood that Mr. Lowme belonged to the highest circle of Milby society ; his sons and daughters held upi their heads very high indeed; and in spite of his con- descending way of chatting ai>d drinking with inferior people, he would himself have scorned any closer identification with them. It must be admitted that he was of some service to the town in this station at Mr. Gruby's door, for he and Mr. Landor's Newfoundland dog, who stretched himself and gaped on the opposite causeway, took something from the lifeless air that belonged to the High Street on every day except Satur- day. Certainly, in spite of three assemblies and a charity ball in the winter the occasional advent of a ventrUoquist, or a com- JANET'S ^^mfTAKCE. su it impossible to^^p u^Crl'pSwTth '"T'*'' °^»^'°-^ •upply of stimulant.. It Ttru '^? ""* * '''^ »'"""iant tial men who had a —tion f^ ""^ "^'"^ «b«tan- T^ranted in «»ying tha^ old Ke^.'^S' "i^ °° "'"' " ^rn T*"""* -"^ <^ergyman ataL ""' "^^ ""' ''-» inclined to think thaT the a>^ ^"^ "^^ »«°aemen I am most exciting event c^tSwlkCC^ '"""« '"«' *"» • more briUiant show of ouMooi t^Lt .? "°'"' °°^^ P""'"* ««uing from Milbyohuroh at^ne oV?" ?"«J"8ht be seen foar taU Miss PittianCold laUer R^^^'- ?*"« ^«"' t^' <»^on carls surmounted by W hi i 1*"«^*«"' ^'*'' ostrich feathers of parrot Jre^ Th^ "^^ ^°"»' '^P^S with a crimson bonn^^erf^ulu ^^!" '"'Mi*- Phippsf ocokadeof stiff feathersMZritX"" '?.'' "'"•' "^ dor, the belle of Milbv okd «^ • ^»" ''^ Miss Lan- withaplumeoffcX^niflrS"' ^'''f'" *»'» ""ni-e, t»i»ing a discreet medll ^i^ei^?^* "" «"»'^ but mainl Imsons, who imitated Miss T«nl "f V" **"* ^«« Tom- feathers; but theU^u^ i;^! ' T^ ^'° ''""' •'""i^e '"'d and theii squa^ for^^Tre ^^i^"'"'^"!^ °' * """'^ "'der, which fell ^th sucnma^fable JT'^^J" '^^ """"^ «PP«t ing shoulders. LookS^^ fC^ ^*** "'' ^"^ I-andor's slop- you wouIdW fZ^,7rather a hZ''/"^/""" "^ ^"""^^ yet there was onl/one c oT 1^ '^^ °^ ^"''^ ""^^^i was old Mr. Landor's h tLerX 'l ^^ l"^' "^^ ^^''^ more than one horse. These^t; °' *'°^' "«^« drore past the vulgar eye in one-W afbTr" '''''' ""^^^^ penor build. onaiaes, by no means of a sa- -r. ^ust^ce Wor. being-^eV/of aSh^d ^XlS I FIL 316 SOSmS OF OLXRtOAL LIFE. I { d a diamond ring, together with the habit of rubbing hia hand through hii hair. He waa tall and dark, and that had an ad- vantage which Mr. Alfred Phipps, who, like hie lister, waa blond and itump;, found it diffloult to overtake, even by the ■everest attention to ■hirt-ituds, and the partioular shade of brown that was best relieved by gilt buttons. The respect for the Sabbath, manifested in this attention to costume, was unhappily counterbalanced by considerable lev- ity of behavior during the prayers and sermon ; for the young ladies and gentlemen of Milby were of a very satirical turn. Miss Landor especially being considered remarkably clever, and a terrible quiz; and the large congregation necessarily containing many persons inferior in dress and demeanor to the distinguished aristocratic minority, divine service offered irre- sistible temptations to joking, through the medium of tele- graphic communications from the galleries to the aisles and back again. I remember blushing very much, and thinking Miss Landjr was laughing at me, because I was appearing in coat-tails for the first time, when I saw her look down slyly toward where I sat, and then turn with a titter to handsome Mr. Bob Lowme, who had such beautiful whiskers meeting under his chin. But perhaps she was not thinking of me, after all; for our pew waa near the pulpit, and there was almost always something funny about old Mr. Crewe. His brown wig was hardly ever put on quite rights and he had a way of raising his voice for three or four words, and lowering it again to a mumble, so that we could scarcely make out a word he said; though, as my mother observed, that was of no consequence in the prayers, since everyone had a prayer-book ; and as for the sermon, she continueil with some causticity, we all of lis heard more of it than we could remember when we got home. This youthful generation was not particularly literary. The young ladies who frizzed their hair, and gathered it all into large barricades in front of their heads, leaving their occipital region exposed without ornament, as if that, being a back view, was of no consequence, dreamed as little that their daughters would read a selection of German poetry, and be able to express an admiration for Schiller, as that they would turn nr "d wer, in the hab t of S'tin^ ^^ '"^'^ "«"'» '^ '<'i°'n. ?«age in the presence of C/C.*^^^^^^^^ ■" "«' 1"' h«d been very kvi.h, anoh youn^ I^H? L'.' *'"" education P1»PP», and the Miw PuS ^^' *" ^'" ^*°dor, Mia. ^^J^^'^dexpenaiveXt ' """« b-" « fim-hed » " i-.-zfi^SireSiLx^ra^rt^'"!^-'-^^^ •^ gentiemen in those parts w^?1f*? *** '^•i'» of «ev- obhged to sen everything KaJI^A'^ '"'«*e^ "|u.t have been unlucky i^^^t^f"* ^ .""'"^ Mr. Pittma,, lu. old jjge, he had not'^ih^ iutionT,!!"'*'"'"' '°' "'"'' ^ though he rode slowly to his offl!! • «^,^"'8 ^^'^ ™hi and an old white hackney^ he had 1 ^ ' ? '"^ morning^r weU a. the active bu^ines. of the Ct V " '''^'" I'"'«'«^ « Dempster. No one in Milbv coLi^' ? ^f ^°"°8*'' Pa^taer, ?"a man, and the elder to^a"°eoS^''"'* "^^ Pi"n>an Vvirtul ?n narrating the least advSoul JI!!f °°' "* '^^ '^k^ard "» a very round unvarnkW *^ ^■*'"" °* Ws biographT --e that they S ht'aTtSriess'''' ^V""^"^ "«^ ''orae. Indeed, Pittman Mdn„^ 1 ' °' '^""^ ^'^ any the y«sofMilbyanditsne?ht,rh?o^CMn*''''"P"^"^- whom no one had anything pSsS^r?' ^"^^'^^ ^^'>^' ve^ meagre business in Jn^Z ^ ^ ^f •'8ain,(, had L hardly a fanner, hardly, parish wTv ^ ''^^ " ^''"dholder, whose afifair. were not unde??he Wi .°'^*" °' ^^^^y man and Denapster; and I thbk ^ Tf ""^^^^ "* «"' their lawyers' unsci^pulouLes 1, t^^^i^*' were P'°"d of uaness, as the patrons of the fancy tu BOBMJtS OF CLERICAL LITE. i 'I HW pioad of th«U ohampion'i " oonditioD. " It wu not, to be •ore, ttM thing for ordinuy life, but it wu the thing to be bet on in a lawyer. Dempiter'i talent in " bringing throogh " a client waa a very oommon topic of oonTenation with the farm- er!, over an incidental glaii of grog at the Bed Lion. " He's • long-beaded feller, Dempeterj why, it ihows yer r.hat a headpiece Dempster hai, as he can drink a bottle o' bran ly at a aittin', an' yit see further through a stone wall when he's done, than other folks '11 see through a glass winder." Even Mr. Jerome, chief member of the congregation at Salem Chapel, an elderly man of very strict life, was one of Demp- ster's clients, and had quite an exceptional indulgence for his attorney's foibles, perhaps attributing them to the inevitable incompatibility cf law and gospel. The standard of morality at Milby, you perceive, was not inconveniently high in those good old times, and an ingennous vice or two was what every man expected of his neighbor. Old Mr. Crewe, the curate, for example, was allowed to en^-^v his avarice in comfort, without fear of sarcastic parish dema- gogues; and his flock liked him all the better for having scraped together a large fortune out of his school and curacy, and the proceeds of the three thousand pounds he had with his little deaf wife. It was clear he must be a learned man, for he had once had a large private school in connection with the grammar-school, and had even numbered a young noble- man or two among his pupils. The fact that he read nothing at all now, and that his mind seemed absorbed in the common- est matters, was doubtless due to his having exhausted the re- sources, of erudition earlier in life. It is true he was not spoken of in terms of high respect, and old Crewe's stingy housekeeping was a frequent subject of jesting; but this was a good old-fashioned oharaoteristio in a parson who had been part of Milby life for half a century : it was like the dents and disfigurements in an old family tankard, which no one would like to part with for a smart new piece of plate fresh from Birmingham. The parishioners saw no reason at all why it should be desirablt to venerate the parson or any one else : they were much moio comfortable to look down a little on theiiT fellow-oreatuteii. PWdenta were the only DL^L „f { '"'"""• ^'^ ^de- ••lient points ^"S "nn.t take a long time fOTth-r^T*"^** ^'Smith's ^Uluded to mighf :i'i ^'^^„,^'"^«<»'. and the habit Thew reverend gentlemen 0^1!".?^,° •"• ^^"^ duties, that the Salem ohurrmemrr.^«f ' »«"«\«their opinion ened of the Lord's peoT^dTat mT """ ^'^' *"«8ht- where they would hav'^on^'dTt at^« wV^ " 'V P'"~' fall for any long period; though to 7rth«.*° ^'"' f^" ""«« congregation assembled on o^wio^ oT^. "nart and crowded mon, any one might have suTpM^^t^h "^"""^ "^^ "^ ". those „n.«ruct^ dfyrSt-^^reTS Sl^ 330 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. 9 matio ministers of Salem were obviously typified by Korah, Dathan, and Abiram; and many Churoh people «iere were ot opinion that Dissent might be a weakness, but, after all, had no great harm in it. These lax Episcopalians were, I believe, diiefly tradespeople, who held that, inasmuch as Congre Ra- tionalism consumed candles, it ought to be supported, and accordingly made a point of presenting themselves at Salem for the afternoon charity sermon, with the expectation of be- ing asked to hold a plate. Mr. Pilgrim, too, was always there with his half-sovereign; for as there was no Dissenting doctor in Milby, Mr. Pilgrim looked with great tolerance on all shades of religious opinion that did not include a belief in cures by miracle. On this point he had the concurrence of Mr. Pratt, the only other medical Wan of the same standing in Milby. Otherwise, it was remarkable how strongly these two clever men were contrasted. Pratt was middle-sized, insinuating, and silvery- voiced; Pilgrim was tall, heavy, rough-mannered, and splut- tering. Both were considered to have great powers of con- versation, but Pratt's anecdotes were of the fine old crusted quality to be procured only of Joe Miller; Pilgrim's had the full fruity flavor of the most recent scandal. Pratt elegantly referred all diseases to debility, and, with a proper contempt for symptomatic treatment, went to the root of the matter with port-wine and bark; Pilgrim was persuaded that the evil prin- ciple in the human system was plethora, and he made war against it with cupping, blistering, and cathartics. They had both been long established in Milby, and as each had a suffi- cient practice, there was no very malignant rivalry between them; on the contrary, they had that sort of friendly con- tempt for each other which is always conducive to a good understanding between professional men; and when any new surgeon attempted, in an ill-advised hour, to settle himself m the town, it was strikingly demonstrated how slight and t- v- ial are theoretic differences compared with the broad basii, of common human feeling. There was the most perfect unanim- ity between Pratt and Pilgrim in the determination to drive away the obnoxious and too probably unqualified intruder as soon as possible. Whether the first wonderful cure he effected JAWBT'S KBrpyTANCE. 221 was on a patient of Pratt'a r r,r r,-, aa the other to puU thetfe ort ^^T™ "'■*' ""^ «« "ady directed their r^znarkable S..!, of "^ °"'-' "^^ ^'^ '^^^ ""g the town too hot tlriZiT^T^'"'^'""im^. bents these two distingZ^^'^J^''^ ^^ *^*'' ^-P^ti^^ Pl- otter with great rinde^e mTjZ ^'"""^ "«^«* «»«t her amazement that Mrs Ph,C!" ^ Tf * ''""^'^ ""^ conceal hands of Pratt, who S^f Sd VS ''"'^ ^^^ ^"« '" ^J^" was really shocking to hea^ hot sW V^ u "^^ ^'«""' '' Mrs. Phipps had no patience w^th M™ T ^'^^ '"^- ^^ did, on tea and broth, and l^kL"''; ^°"'"^' """8. as she and yet letting RlgrLn hl^dZlhV^f 7 ^"^^ ''°''-^°^^^, ering medicine tiU heTclothl^ W'sterher and giveher low- On the whole, perhaps, m'pSC! ""'' ""^^ * ->— w's. higher pitch, ^i when anv iJ^Z 'i?"t*'°° ''^^ «' t^e domg ill, she ^as half deposed ^Z ^^- ^™"''' "are was •'^tiye treatment" might sui her h^n' ^Y " ^"'« »<>« definite provocation no m>e wouU t,w ?"* "'"'""t ^""y part with the family doctor fo>'lr*"°"« a step as to were few varieties of huma^laLH """'«/»'"ote days there "■edical. The doctor W^atelr^ ^^^^^^^U than the was apt to rise and fall with th^' !!° ^ " ""^^^S patient, I have known Mr pSrS di-„ - ' *'"' ^^•^'^' ^^ tues in a patient sfizeT^itf IT ^''•°"""* ""^Pec^d vir- tiaes you might have beln Id T ""? "'"«'«• ^' «nch someofMr.Pilgrimlaf^i^t^ *,^ ^^"'^^ *hat there were ahigh opinion,'^ St:rt'^;!"i°-^«»'ertained nfss of a too admiring est^r^ A . ""!. '""^"^l" ^«ak- his enthusiasm, and a itZL f^ ^""^ "^Aammation fired charity. DoubUess this "3 ST 'T'^«<' "^^ -to due to fee,i„g3 not at all rep^e^d bv th ^^ ""^ ^^^ book; for in Mr. Pilgrim's w!: l^^ ^°'^'*« '" t^e day- of tenderness and pfrwhth L'^^*V' '^ '**«»* «tore "uffering. Gradually however t\ ^°''^ ■*' *^« ^'S^t of valescenti his view 5 ^eir 2 . " E^''*"'* became con- sionate; when they Lid J r"*"™ ''*'"^« """'o dispas- fdmitthat theyh^Sles t'd ,"'".^°"''°^'' """ '"«'^^ '■>wed their lasj dose of tenlT ^ ^' ""' ^^^^ ^ad swal- cusable faults. Afte/ tt^'tt T "'''' ^ *'"*"' ""<"" ^«- rer tills, the thermometer of his regard 222 SCENES OP CLERICAL LIFE. 1 rested at the moderate point of friendly backbiting, which sufficed to make him agreeable in his morning visits to the amiable and worthy persons who were yet far from convales- cent. Pratt's patients were profoundly uninteresting to Pilgrim : their very diseases were despicable, and he would hardly have thought their bodies worth dissecting. But of all Pratt's pa- tients, Mr. Jerome was the one on whom Mr. Pilgrim heaped the most unmitigated contempt. In spite of the surgeon's wise tolerance, Dissent became odious to him in the person of Mr. Jerome. Perhaps it was because that old gentleman, being rich, and having very large yearly bills to pay for medi- cal attendance on himself and his wife, nevertheless employed Pratt — neglected all the advantages of " active treatment," and paid away his money without getting his system lowered. On any other ground it is hard to explain a feeling of hostility to Mr. Jerome, who was an excellen*^ old gentleman, express- ing a great deal of good- will toward his neighbors, not only in imperfect English, but in loans of money to the ostensibly rich, and in sacks of potatoes to the obviously poor. Assuredly Milby had that salt of goodness which keeps the world togetJier, in greater abundance than was visible on the surface: innocent babes were bom there, sweetening their parents' hearts with simple joys; men and women withering in disappointed worldliness, or bloated with sensual ease, had better moments in which they pressed the hand of suffering with sympathy, and were moved to deeds of neighborly kind- ness. In church and in chapel there were honest-hearted worshippers who strove to keep a conscience void of offence; and even up the dimmest alleys you might have found here and there a Wesleyan to whom Methodism was the vehicle of peace on earth and good-will to men. To a superficial glance, Milby was nothing but dreary prose : a dingy town, surround- ed by flat fields, lopped elms, and sprawling manufacturing villages, which crept on and on with their weaving-shops, till they threatened to graft themselves on the town. But the sweet spring came to Milby notwithstanding: the elm-tops were red with buds; the churchyard was starred with daisies; the lark showered his love-music on the flat fields; the rain- JANET'S REPENTANCE. 223 fume, ofTrdy: iS c' e?'*^' T^'V'"*^'"'' "^^ '"e tleness, and unselfish iTc.; Cv h"" T' P""*^' ««"- geranium giving tor^i^ZI^ ^ ^''^ °''*"^«'i « «''«°te'l and gin in'a nol^S-htle Se°d 7 T''^' '"*^P''*-y often carry half LiZZ,^' ^ ^^^ *^"- Crewe would Miss ^^^,T^^:^ZZt'TJ:,^lt'' T' ^'-'^' heart, and Ughted her f^W-t „°1 ^«d feathers, had a filial and there were iy-haSd nfenT 7 k \Vi^mt smile; noticeable as you pa^sedTem in ^ t^ ^*""' ""* »' ^^i had been the LisT^eShl^ wU^ ^"'"^^'^ JteTw^l^ht XTaLS^?^'^ t'^erl irentirely con- for that large portion of^Tnt- 1 T" ^ ^"* " '^°" affair out fron. ^ Cit^crSmbrr,"''""'^^''^"' must be an adv^taw to W.n ^^r^'"'^'*"' *"^ t^^^t it gentlemen occaaS; visaed those "J^J"'^' *'"* ^""^ the inhabitants became more intLn ? ' °° ''"'^''«'- B»' they set upon all thradv^ta^""tr""'""l°' *^« ^'^"•' appearance in the person S rEe/ mTt'T r'^'*" curate, at the ohapel-of-ease oTvlT^'f ^^- ^'y™. the new soon notorious in Cby that X T^^rf. ^°""°''°- ^' ''^^ that ho preached ^I^^ ^' ^7^ ^*'^ P*""!'" "Pinious : lending iriirrroU^ti'rortt""'''^ "^^^^^^^ expounded the Scriptures uZ^Z aid tharh ' *^''^^' was attracting the Dissenters ^Tm^t ^". Pleaching church. The rumor sp^g ^ aStZf 'T^,!^^"^ °* '^^ vaded Milby parish-^'n>„rfai^'orX£ Ketr.'"'.!''- because its nature was hnt- ^;^ ■ "** '°*"'c terrible, was one of thlZr^Jot to '^^3*^1 ^"^''P/ ^""^ movement: and it was onW«„ v ^^ ^^e wave of anew the turn, thaTtiie WetelL ' 7^*" *'"' *'■*" ^'«' J"»t on was the firsTEv^i^^^eU *°* * sprinkling. Mr. Tryan even nu.y Di^eatera who' ..n.i^'ZZ£, ^Z^yl 324 80BNE8 OF OLBRICAL LIKE. 4 I sort Of baptismal name to the magazine which circulated among the congregation of Salem Chapel. But now, at length, the disease had been imported, when the parishioners were emeot- mg It as httle as the innocent Bed Indians expected smaUpox As long as Mr. Tryan's hearers were confined to Paddiford Common— which, by the by, was hardly recognizable as a common at all, but was a dismal district where you heard the rattie of the handloom, and breathed the smoke of coal-pits —the " canting parson " could be treated as a joke. Not so when a number of single ladies in the town appeared to be mfected, and even one or two men of substantial property, with old Mr. Landor, the banker, at tiieir head, seemed to b^ giving in" to the new movement— when Mr. Tryan was known to be well received in several good houses, where he was in the habit of finishing the evening witii exhortation and prayer. Evangelicalism was no longer a nuisance existing merely in by-comers, which any well-clad person could avoid • It was invading tiie very drawing-rooms, mingling itself with the comfortable fumes of port-wine and brandy, threatening to deaden with its murky breath all the splendor of the ostnch-feathers, and to stifie Milby ingenuousness, not pre- tending to be better than its neighbors, with a cloud of cant and lugubrious hypocrisy. The alarm reached its climax when It was reported that Mr. Tryan was endeavoring to ob- tain antiiority from Mr. Prendergast, tiie non-resident rector, to establish a Sunday-evening lecture in the parish church, on the ground that old Mr. Crewe did not preach tiie Gospel. It now first appeared how surprisingly high a value Milby in general set on tiie minisb«tionB of Mr. Crewe; how con- vinced it was tiiat Mr. Crewe was tiie model of a parish priest, and his sermons tiie soundest and most edifying that had ever remained unheard by a church-going population. All allusions to his brown wig were suppressed, and by a rhetori- cal figure hU name was associated with venerable gray hairs- the attempted intrusion of Mr. Tryan was an insult to a man deep m years and learning; moreover, it was an insolent effort to thrust himself forward in a parish where he was clearly dis- tasteful to the superior portion of ite inhabitants. The town was divided into two zealous parties, the Tryanites and anti- JANIT'S BEPENTANCB. Jgg i^ed oppoB^on aTpow • """^ "J^^eloped into an organ- nuiuerously signed ^ to ^^°f°^"?°"'^y• """i. »ft» being threedele^tef^ep elenttogSe Set ^^^-°de^gast by of Milby. The inteUect vo!M " ' """"^'ty. "«i wealth m Mr. Tomlinsonj and the d^!l .: 7 ?' ^^ '^« ^eaIU» oa its great mission^ "•« distinguished triad was to set oat «»twf^s™a^Te:i:g'xrr" *^^ '"^"^ - •^-- - the previous chapter U.! T^: ^^ZT^^'^^^ CHAPTER III. whlr^.^plra^,- "-^[""o-ns ^-^ay evening, their -issionTiTot'Rerr;^" T:r "'T f "^ anter in Mrs. Linnet's r,»ri„. «. ■' , ''^ """"h pleas- Through the S^tX'TaSe'th" 1^^!*'^ «lS honeysuckles: the irra««-n1nf^* t ^ , " mignonette and by a little ptanteLT^f £ i^,^T "^ '^^ ^"""^ ^"^ '^^ nums; theLiseof l'' ^"iee- Linnet's house was situat«d "*. "8"«*^'« murmur, for Mrs. ford Commr Ld ^!^n!v T H Z f " °"*^''^ "^ P'«ldi- % of the feminize pa^l^Lem^led'^^ "^ *° '"''"' *^« '"^"■ buzz of intrusive WMnTTr-Tf, "^ '''^ the occasional head for sJ^L-Zt^'^a^'^'^l '""**^'°8 '""'^ I'^iy'" Linnet's parEoS'tifjr'"^^ ^^ ^i"" ^^ M™. table was'litter'eS SL wUchThe^tJ-''^ ""' *'" ""^"^ with black canvas as aT^/ ^'®* ''«™ covering Lending Lib^^ Miss L^TT*"^ *^' "^'^ ^-^dif^d neatest^peo^gzafe w„S:A°^« '^r.T'P* '^ «"» ing on grwn paper ticket ^Wh '""»">>bl« "Part, writ- 226 SCENES OP CLERICAL LITO. Ifir Iffl ^■1 I'll foand in the ornaments of the room. She had always com- bined a love ni serious and poetical reading with her skill in fancy-work, and the neatly bound copies of Dryden's " Vir- gil," Hannah More's "Sacred Dramas," Falconer's "Ship- wreck," Mason "On Self-knowledge," "Easselas," and Burke "On the Sublime and Beautiful," which were the chief orna- ments of the bookcase, were all inscribed with her name, and had been bought with her pocket-money when she was in her teens. It must nave buen at least fifteen years since the lat- est of those purchases, but Miss Linnet's skill in fancy-work appeared to have gone through more numerous phases than let literaiy tr.o^«; for the japanned boxes, the alum and Seal- Vg-wax baskets, the fan-dolls, the "transferred" landscapes on the fire screens, and the recent bouquets of wax-flowers, showed a disparity in freshness which made them referable to widely different periods. Wax-flowers presuppose delicate fingers and robust patience, but there are still many points of mind and person which they leave vague and problematic; so I must tell you that Miss Linnet had dark ringlets, a sallow complexion, and an amiable dispositioa. As to her features, there was not much to criticise in them, for she had little nose, less lip, and no eyebrow; and as to her intellect, her friend Mrs. Pettifer often said: "She didn't know a more sensible person to talk to than Mary Linnet. There was no one she liked better to come and take a quiet cup of tea with her, and read a little of Klopstock's ' Messiah.' Mary Lin- net had often told her a great deal of her mind when they were sitting together : she said there were many things to bear in every condition of life, and nothing should induce her to many without a prospect of happiness. Once, when Mrs. Pettifer admireji her wax-flowers, she said, 'Ah, Mrs. Petti- fer, think of the beauties of nature! ' She always spoke very prettily, did Mary Linnet; very different, indeed, from Ee- beeca." Miss Bebecoa Linnet, indeed, was not a general favorite. While most people thought it a pity that a sensible woman like Mary had not found a good husband— and even her fe- male friends said nothing more ill-natured of her, than that her face was like a piece of putty with two Scotch pebbles ;,. J ■^mim. i s.,. JANET'S BBPBNTANCB. 237 mend her as a wife to Tnf ^T^i ^ ^°"°« '*^'«« *o room- ing withlw faf htZr ?!!° ^'^ ^^^'"'^ *° »« flirt- give piquan ; to' S Se^^titr.'^'."^ '^"'"' ""fflo-B to novelty Miss Bebe^ci h!;„"*"'^"'8 ^'' »'"««'<'e of her," and "The Soldier's 'I^»L,T't,'"'''^^ '"™*'°" to the pleasures of al^-o^ih J ° '^"""'"^ "« '^•"'^"on especially as Bebecca^hadThth spirit Th' *° "^""^ ^"' spite of her expansively ronDdld «n!l v. ^.'' °'^' ""^ ^^ sharp tongue. Her re^S^Th^H T "' ^""^ « Particularly her sister^ emb^cinrS of th^ fi\"°™ ^^'«°"'« '^"^ circulating librarv^rt TfM w ^'"""' "" ^^- I'^octer's «.urse of CSest„»r c'S.rre'^L't' *"' rth^r^iistpTsr^--^^^^^^^ heroine of the thrSVrXw°^;i7ru'ri?^ *'? ititfbrScS^^ e.^/of-'h^Se birr on Whitsunda;, C'thtfghrTuVn?rl^\' "'"'^^ '"^''''' r-Lr^strg-i^-ri-^^^ of expansirin m^tZ^l^'^ZTtZMT'''' '''''' application of art to rt™.. T ^^"on. With this constant ,,.y*!Pp5 itA i^^ 338 SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. l;': ( have your drawing-room well supplied with small mate, which would always be ready if you ever wanted to set anything on them I And what styptic for a bleeding heart can equal copi- ous squares of crochet, which are useful for slipping down the moment you touch them? How our fathers managed without crochet is the wonder ; but I believe some small and feeble substitute existed in their time under the name of "tatting." Bebeoca Linnet, however, had neglected tatting as well as other forms of fancy-work. At school, to be sure, she had spent a great deal of time in acquiring flower-painting, accord- ing to the ingenious method then fashionable, of applying the shapes of leaves and flowers cut out in cardboard, and scrub- bing a brush over the surface thus conveniently marked out; but even the spill-cases and hand-screens which were her last half-year's performances in that way were not considered emi- nently successful, and had long been consigned to the retire- ment of the best bedroom. Thus there was a good deal of family unlikeness between Bebecca and her sister, and I am afraid there was also a little family dislike; but Mary's dis- approval had usually been kept imprisoned behind her thin lips, for Bebecca was not only of a headstrong disposition, but was her mother's pet; the old lady being herself stout, and preferring a more showy style of cap than she could prevail on her daughter Mary to make up for her. But I have been describing Miss Bebeoca as she was in former days only, for her appearance this evening, as she sits pasting on the green tickets, is in striking contrast with what it was three or four mo iths ago. Her plain gray gingham dress an^ plain white collar could never have belonged to her wardrobe before that date; and though she is not reduced in size, and her brown hair will do nothing but hang in crisp ringlets down her large cheeks, there is a change in her air and expression which seems to shed a softened light over her person, and make her look like a peony in the shade, instead of the same flower flaunting in a parterre in the hot sunlight. No one could deny that Evangelicalism had wrought a change for the better in Bebeoca Linnet's person — ^not even Miss Pratt, the thin stiff lady in spectacles, seated opposite to her, who always had a peculiar repulsion for " females with ^jtM „, JANET'S RSPBirrANCE. a gross habit of body." Miu Pr.ff _. u that is a no .or. deiLite ^Hpt"" ZTif ?l?t'i^ 1' was in the autumn of lif« w,. u i^ , '"^ *''* are f,a«^t wra;jl2"'„ ir ;"ht"T^^^^^^ tha? r Ss SeCe^e^^l^atr Ke r V ^°- were to Miss Pratt wh.f fL i ' * *"® ^"» Linnets bare, nippi^^ d^lf ^ t firth^Stir ""^ obe" TthrMrLSruteTold rafrtT """^ '"'' maids with natural rinriets and.™* T^ ""^^ """^ °^^ trance into Lk»an^ .^^ *" ' ^°"^ ^^ °" bis En- .Z^^JtmM Li«l 380 8CHNB8 OP OLBRIOAI, UFB. r,; i'il 11 : U covering the " llemoin of Felix Nefl," ia Mias Eliza Pratt- and the amaU elderly lady in dowdy clothing, who ia alao working dUigently, ia Mra Pettifer, a auperior-minded widow, much valued ia Milby, being auoh a very respectable peraon to have in the houae in case of illneai, and of quite too good a family to receive any money-payment— you could always aend her garden-atufl that would make her ample amenda. Miss Pratt has enough to do in commenting on the heap of volumes before her, feeling it a responsibility entailed on her by her great powers of mind to leave nothing without the advan- tage of her opinion. Whatever was good must be sprinkled with the chrism of her approval; whatever was evil must be blighted by her condemnation. " Upon my word," she aaid, in a deliberate high voice, as if she were dictating to ai. amanuensis, " it is a most admirable selection of works for pi Jar reading, this that our exceUent Mr. Tryan has made. I do not know whether, if the task had been confided to me, I could have made a selection, com- bining in a higher degree religious instruction and edification with a due admUture of the purer species of amusement Thij story of 'Father Clement' is a library in itself on the errors of Bomanism. I have ever considered fiction a suitable form for conveying moral and religious inatruction, as I have shown in my little work 'De Couroy,' which, as a very clever writer in the Crompton Argui said at the time of its appear- anoe> is the light vehicle of a weighty moral." " One 'ud think," said Mrs. Linnet, whc also had her spec- tacles on, but chiefly for the purpose of seeing what the others were doing, "there didn't want much to drive people away from a ftsUgion as makea 'em walk barefoot over stone floors, like that girl in ' Father Clement '—sending the blood up to the head frightful. Anybody might see that was an unnat'ral creed." " Yes, " aaid Miss Pratt, " but asceticism is not the root of the error, as Mr. Tryan was telling us the other evening— it is the denial of the great doctrine of justification by faith. Much as I had reflected on all subjects in the course of my life, I am indebted to Mr. Tiyan for openinar my eyes to the full im- portance of that cardinal doctrine of the Keformation. From ri^ik. ^^^m'T'^^ JAWETS BIPENTANCB. which I know no human comZ-^ ^^"^^^ ^'""87, thw «»«. A. 1 tell E,^*^! ;°ChU.r" /•""'•" ^<^ '-^ .two-,nd-twenty, i„ W.W a Cerilm" '\' " " *^' "S" »' u great and admirable inltellit^r^'\°. ?''*'" '»"«* «'ft». I am no contempSbU judl of. " ?'«'"'•' "P"'"^ •nd I awureyoulhave C Mr T™ -T " »"1''i"«n«»t., •re a pretty .evere touohatone it^!° ' ^? '""""°'"' ''""i huna litUe beyond the depth of A. "It' ^ '°°"'*'"''» "'"r &undleaming,..eontinued K Ratt^h°ut? "r*"" ^"^ »nd tappmg them on the book brfZ* k .^.» J-er speotaolea, e»tunate it in Milby." °" ''"' ''« not many t^ '^w'''i!!t°'^«''«i<'hmtd7.^'""''' '^'^ 'y«8 through a large num^r^tli*^"^ T"?" "P'"^ ^'"^ »phy of a celebrated preacwTlf. ^,^""8 "P the biog- end to see what diseaseTedtd 2' and"^'!***!^ *""""» 'o »^^ her own oooaaionaUy did EhTt.u' ^ ^ ^" ^*8» "welled, as taining any earlier Lt in the h^to "^^f.' ^"'"«' ^ "« ^ -Whether he had overladen off a ,t^ °' ""." '^P""'^ divine married more than one wife ■r„r^'"^°''' ''Aether he had or repartees recorded of him Sua H"^' " Y ""^^O"*"-'" version. She then glanced ot!I T ^ !?* *P"''' °' ^s con- wh-ever there was aS^^L^/z^^^ '"«'' ^'^' '^^ and notes of eiolamation BhT^^L ' *^« ^'^er of Life, hut any passage in wS 1 s^w IhT *° *"' "*«* P^« ^maUpo.," "pony,. „, "boots LdThts'^'ro":* ""^^ " «er. """ naoes, at once arrested •msm ' %^;^^fiWKri»rMBr.iE I \ M 1 ( , i pf . »■• BOSmS OF CLERICAL LIFE. "It U haU-put lix now," laid MIm Linnet, looking at her watoh a* the servant appeared with the tea-tray. " I luppote the delegate* are oome back by thit time. If Mr. Tryao had not 10 kindly promiied to call and let us know, I should hardly rest without walking to MUby myself to know what answer they hare brought back. It is a great privilege for us, Mr. Tryan living at Mrs. Wagstaff's, for he is often able to take ns on hi* way backward and forward into the town." " I wonder if there's another man in the world who ha* been brought up a* Mr. Tryan has, that would choose to live in tho83 small close rooms on the common, among heaps of dirty cottages, for the sake of being near the poor people," said Mrs. Pettifer. "I'm afraid he hurts his health by it; he looks to me far from strong." "Ah," said Miss Pratt, "I understand he is of a highly re- spectable family indeed, in Huntingdonshire. I heard him myself speak of his father's carriage— quite incidentally, you know — and Eliza tells me what very fine cambric handker- ohiefg he uses. My eyes are not good enough to see snch things, but I know what breeding is as well as most people, and it is easy to see that Mr. Tryan is quite eomme il/aw, to use a French expression." " I should like to tell him better nor use fine cambric i' this pUce, where there's such washing, it's a shame to be seen," said Mrs. Linnet; "he'll get 'em tore to pieces. Good lawn 'ud be far better. I saw what a color hi* linen looked at the sacrament last Sunday. Mary's making him a black silk case to hold his bands, but I told her she'd more need wash 'em for him." " O mother I " said Bebecca, with a solemn severity, " pray don't think of pocket-handkerchiefs and linen, when we are talking of such a man. And at this moment, too, when he is perhaps having to bear a heavy blow. We don't know but wickedness may have triumphed, and Mr. Prendergast may have consented to forbid the lecture. There have been dis- pensations quite as mysterious, and Satan is evidently putting forth all his strength to resist the entrance of the Oospel into Milby Church." "You niver spoke a truer word than that, my dear," said JANITB MPIKTAKOI. JS8 «mt M the titla wtm't ^ood 8„T u ' , 5 '"*''"8 tation nn- f„ ' '^"* ^ '"PP"" ^^ ™«y drop that expeo- a^^'-^rss ?^.rt:rheJrht"", ^".>» "■* the famUy so^y yea^^ ^„!'^ brother haying attended the i^^^e of my opinion since^'STHay fht^" T,", war, too, she was won oyer ! fooUsh pride in hay 384 BOBNXS OF CLERICAL LIFE. I I, if ing her daughter many a professional man. I fear it was so. No one but myself, I think, foresaw the extent of the eyil." "Well," said Mrs. Pettifer, "Janet had nothing to look to but being a governess; and it was hard for Mrs. Eaynor to hare to work at millinering— a woman well brought up, and her husband a man who held his head as high as any man in Thurston. And it isn't everybody that sees everything fifteen years beforehand. Robert Dempster was the cleverest man in Milby; and there weren't many young men fit to talk to Janet." "It is a thousand pities," said Miss Pratt, choosing to ignore Mrs. Pettifer's slight sarcasm, "for I certainly did consider Janet Baynor the most promising young woman of my aoquaintanee;— a little too much lifted up, perhaps, by her superior education, and too much given to satire, but able to express herself very well indeed about any book I recom- mended to her perusal. There is no young woman in Milby now who can be compared with what Janet was when she was married, either in mind or person. I consider Miss Landor far, far below her. Indeed, I cannot say much for the men- tal superiority of the young ladies in our first families. They are suporfioial — very superficial." "She made the handsomest bride that ever came out of Milby Church, too," said Mrs. Pettifer. "Such a very fine figure ! and it showed off her white poplin so well. And what a pretty smile Janet always had I Poor thing, she keeps that now for all her old friends. I never see her but she has some- thing pretty to say to me— living in the same street, you know, I can't help seeing her often, though I've never been to the houie since Dempster broke out on me in one of his drunken fits. She comes to me sometimes, poor thing, looking so strange, anybody passing her in the street may see plain enough what's the matter; but she's always got some little good-natured plan in her head for all that. Only last night when I met her, I saw five yards off she wasn't fit to be out; but she had a basin in her hand, full of something she was carrying to Sally Martin, the deformed girl that's in a con- sumption. " JANET'S RBPENTANCB. 335 knows the real state of things. Ctt^Tv ^h^h ^"7 "'"' avoided the subject with me Th. , ! ? ^"^ "°* «^«° her she said, ' ttive von C; J '^ ^'"* *™'' ^ "'^^^ 0° burst into tern, » ^ *° """ ""^ P~^ '^"Sl'f ^? ' and .t:jSwL72^;r ^esa^r^:^ ■^.■^-^^ night when 1 had that attlok nf ,^ "**"?]"*•' ">» night after There's greatZus^*^' °* m"^ a wf '"" '" 7""' "8°- her husband coming home withS WHr" -T * '^ "^ make her drink something to Su„tht^«,?^' " T""^^ *° dren either, to keen W ftvl T t ^^^'"'gs-Md no ohU- «me, if we we^^herpS" ^'"' ""'' "« "'«''* '*° t^" "Speak for yourself, Mrs. Pettifer," said Miss Pr^tf Under no oiroumstances can T ima™^. 1^ ™"- praetioe so degr«linr l^JrSdTf "^"^^ *° "^ own strength of mind " ^"^ *°PP°^ "» !»« ve;\S"drsptt?s :5wirir ^^^ "™" "'«' of enlightenment, « shr^' fi^^^*^'"* ^''"'"'™P«<»' only toherowTstren^ iv?"^ ^' ^"PP°^' '^ '^^ ^"^ in herself." ^' ^^^ """^ '«*'' «i-^^ce of li^p^ "S nted the publications of the BeligiousTraot fWilf, T? troduced Dissenting hymns into rchur^^ ^' '^'' "'• Mr. Tryan shook hands with Mrs. Linnet, bowed with rather a i^eoccupied airtothe other ladies, and seated wSe hrge horse-hair easychair which had been drawn foi^ar^ for him, while the ladies ceased from their work, Z Cf aSr •yes on him, awaiting the news he had to teU them II 1 ,_. _,jl 338 BOEinS or OLBBICAL UFB. " It aeenw," he began, in a low and Bilveiy tone, " I need a lasBon of patience; there haa been something wrong in my thought or action about this evening lecture. I have been too mnoh bent on doing good to Milby after my own plan too reliant on my own wisdom." Mr. Tiyan paused. He was struggling against inward irri- tation. "The delegates are come back, then?" "Has Mr. Pren- dergast given way?" "Has Dempster succeeded? "—were the eager questions of three ladies at once. "Yes; the town is in an uproar. As we were sitting in Mr. Lander's drawing-room we heard a loud cheering, and presently Mr. Thrupp, the derk at the bank, who had been waiting at the Bed Lion to hear the result, came to let us know. He said Dempster had been making a speech to the mob out of the window. They were distributing drink to the people, and hoisting placards in great letters, — ' Down with the Tryanites! ' ' Down with cant! ' They had a hideous caricature of me being tripped-up and pitohed head-foremost out of the pulpit. Good old Mr. Landor would insist on send- ing me round in the carriage; he thought I should not be safe from the mob; but I got down at the Crossways. The row was evidently preconcerted by Dempster before he set out. He made sure of succeeding," Mr. Tryan's utterance had been getting rather louder and more rapid in the course of this speech, and he now added, in the energetic chest-voice, which, both in and out of the pulpit, alternated continually with his more silvery notes— " But Jiis triumph will be a short one. If he thinks he can intimidate me by obloquy or threats, he has mistaken the man he has to deal with. Mr. Dempster and his colleagues will find themselves checkmated after all. Mr. Prendergast has t>een false to his own conscience in this business. He knows as well as I do that he is throwing away the seals of the peo- ple by leaving things as they are in the parish. But I shall appeal to the Bishop— I am confident of his sympathy." "The Bishop will be coming shortly, I suppose," said Miss Pratt, " to hold a confirmation? " "Yes; but I shall write to him at once, and lay the case ?^-fcT^lcl,lfv.« JANET'S REPBBTAITCK. 839 brfow him. Indeed, I must hurry away now, for I have E.T">*^ '"""', ^- ^'^ ladies, have'been l^ hepmg me with your labors, I see," continued Mr. TryaZ Ws 2t ' The? t' *'' "-'T--"'! books as he rose ft^ nw seat Then, turning to Mary Linnet: "Our library is S:^»d°'ti£^„ J- - --ist»have.:^ea noIZjf'^/'^^ '" '""y ^"^ *° "^ 'I'at Mr. Tryan did £.XTf^th\rtrZmr:iS^^^^^ meU^ fet?fW t " P™] f„, fi.- v ▼enertble pastor But if i. „/ ^ **• •"""" «' our I know y^weJ vle^Z,""'"' Z^" ^ "J*"*** "^ y*'- to be a. honest and r^J^T ^°°/" *^'' '«"' *^«"7 y«w thia county. Y^r wfti ' ""."' «'-W" « 4 in had betteftry to ^Thi.^TL'd*°h**" *"". '"' """ areata. You're used to wLHk '°^_}ll?0"^V down y»„r flayor. This "the n,^,^^^ *•"" "^^ "^"°' »' « •»«•' think I aay s« 1 tha^of "I ^7""* ^ .""^ ""^ '"«' «"<» ^ tell you that our exe^on.l^.'J'"*^'*' ^ ''"'"' ' ^aye to manly morJirh"e^„' ^r^lT":^ '""'"^ '•"«'«>'' -"d fellow-townsmYnl I haVT the TL^^fi^'f "T"'- ^es, my you thus formaUr -w v ^'''^'^tion of announcing to ThepuTpitZm wSour" ''»^\f «^y '^^ed indireoUy? Bound dSTte hin rr"' P"*"' »«• '«d « Witt fanatical, sectariw. dSle-Z^^" "«* ^> ^^''^^^^ ^y a are nott^ havrow yonni ^' iT'^'f f '"'"P*" We by the temptations to wlnS •^f"'°«^"««l <^i corrupted evening lec'^ture^? wr^^^Tf <»°»«»t«d with Smiday- Wmself upon us, who de^« IS u ' P"^^" obtruding homes pemrt^g tte faKr^ '"'"• ""^ '^'^'' ^^ °^ a« not to rS^ ^^h LL- "^"l?"'^ daughters! We e«nt enjoymen^^ „,!I^* *™"" "'^'^ ''"^P o^^^y hmo- with wSr ^s't Su?hiSrhL?r,'i •" *"" "^j*"- day's work, under pretencln^^ * fl^ «'*•" "**«' » bard Chicktawsl ^ P*^« *" ^'"« to send to the ■ neZ",^/ wor°ds* ^J^'am*".""*' ^,°"f "'^"•"•' «"« -i*b un- that you'::: td jorchaTi:; K' l^^* -^^ y-. from the crowd, probably^ „T ., ° *°°' "^^ » ^w<» diately afterwi^d^ZT^ wXis hT« °^''''° '" ™"«^ " I shall always b. Vf fl« • . orushed over his head), whoever Sto^J^Lj!!™ °' ""^ feUow-townsmen, Jd cent pleasMTs shaU W ^°"' " "'*'''•«' '''^^^ 7°"' ^^-o- Dempster ' ""^^ "" ~^""* *° "•'ttle with Bobert -^''s:i'g:o'dSto'^%rfetw'r' *^ "'^^•'"•' --^ are as soand as your o^ y°" ^'townsmen, whose hearts some another ttat evZ' ""* °^ y°» 80 one way and ' •^** '^«^ "^. womwi, and child in Milby sj?^ au B0KNI8 OF OLBBICAL UWt. Bwy know what you know youndvM. But bafore w« part, let lu IwT* thiM ohMn for True Beligion, and down with Oantl" When the lait oheet was dying, Mr. Dempiter oloeed the window, and the judioioudy instruoted placard* and oarioa- turee mored off in divere direotione, followed by larger or ■maUer divisione of the crowd. The greatut attraction ap- parently lay in the direction of Dog Lane, the outlet toward Paddiforu Common, whither the caricatures were moving; and you foreiee, of course, that those works of symbolical art were consumed with a liberal expenditure of dry gorse-bushes and vague shouting. After these great public exertions, it was natural that Mr. Dempster and his colleagues should feel more in need than usual of a little social relaxation; and a party of their friends was already beginning to assemble in the large parlor of the Bed Lion, convened partly by their own curiosity, and partly by the invaluable Mat Paine. The most capacious punch- bowl was put in requisition; and that bom gentleman, Mr. Lowme, seated opposite Mr. Dempster as "Vice," undertook to brew the punch, defying the criticisms of the envious men out of office, yrho, with the readiness of irresponsibility, igno- rantly suggested more lemons. The social festivities were continued till long past midnight, when several friends of sound religion were conveyed home with some difficulty, one of them showing a dogged determination to seat himself in the gutter. Mr. Dempster had done as much justice to the punch as any of the party; and his friend Boots, though aware that the lawyer could "carry hU Uquor like Old Nick," with whose social demeanor Boots seemed to be particularly well ac- quainted, nevertheless thought it might be as well to see so good a customer in safety to his own door, and walked quietly behind his elbow out of the inn-yard. Dempster, however, soon became aware of him, stopped short;, and, turning slowly round upon him, recognized the well-known drab waistcoat sleeves, ctHispiouous enough in the starlight. " You twopenny scoundrel ! What do you mean by doggin<» a professional man's footsteps in this way? I'U break every srt^ ^ '... JAMIT'S RKntNTAlfOS. Mg way alone. ^' *"'' "'• ^^P«t»r puriued hi. .low long .tretoh of grew. aZT l ' "" P^^^ag", and a with an orerhan^^upS' J'/"':".°''»-'*^i°''ed ^^^ ~ugh stucco, and J«,;Tt SoU'llh^'Jl'l * *"" »' "iuttersj inside, it was ftS] of T? ^^^ ''^«« »nd low ceiling,. There Wll^aiv? ^^''' ""* "«">• ''•«' door, and U>ough MrTe^^*;^*'Z knocker on the green time, oho., to L tte Kw T"!? ' ^'"^"'"'y' '«' ''°'"- thunderre«mnded5^grSha5''str'°'l°~"°^- ^he minute, there wa« rieZH^T^ J^*^ ""^ •*»' » "ngle other iinute, Z .tT^t ^^^ '°"'^" *^ *k« fi™t. A- Mr. Demps2'r,^„il!-^'/7''"°°*°P«°«d; whereupon le« difflcS? 'th^'^ght W ''^ '" '"'"''■""y. »"<'. wVth the door. When^e^ned Z JT'.k''^'"*' """'^ ** ^*« " Janetl » in the teZt !^n1 .*^'' P**»«« ^" <»«'k. that r«.g through tte hoi* """""^ '""«' '"• ">• "«* sound andirtiitSiSrs/^^rJr^^^^^^ aelant a heavy-pUted ^«w^„ *^" "' ' ^^ '^'"»»°. folding the turning oTtteSafrtrafllS': T'".*'"''"'' "PP*"*^ «* Slie had on a lighS. wll *? i*^" •j"""^" ""t™""'- but did not disOTiM i^ «L , ^' '~"^y »•»"* her figure, .maseof str^ghtw^lAt ^^'^'/'^^^ <>"«««• A h^v; and hung oveThir shSSerr ^r"""^ '""" '*^ ^"*«°'"ft with the natural palen^. .i u ^"""^ »"* *«»'"«». Pale about then,, Xg tiTtte vet Tl*^ ^"^ Premature' liTe. «>w, and th« delifaSjctverosM ^hi '^^^-f^^- .-er With the S^l con^^^^I' f';^^^^^^^ M6 aoiHXB or oLiRioAL un. Q-^M ml must har* qai^and to tha hMrt-pieraing griafi whieh had givmi that worn look to the oornen of the month. H«r wida- opm blaek ayas had a itrangaly fixed, ligbtlaas gau, u sha pauiad at. tha turning, and itood lUant before her husband. " I'll tiaoh you to keep me waiting in the dark, you pale •taring fool I " he laid, advancing with hit slow drunken itep. " What, you're been drinking again, bare you? I'll beat you into your senaas." He laid his hand with a firm gripe on her shoulder, turned her round, and pushed her slowly before him along the pas- sage and through the dining-room door, whioh stood open on their left hand. There was a portrait of Janet's mother, a gray-haired, dark- eyed old woman, in a neatly fluted oap, hanging over the mantelpiece. Surely the aged eyes take on a look of anguish as they see Janet — not trembling, no! it would be l>etter if she trembled — standing stupidly unmoved in her great beauty, while the heavy arm is lifted to strike her. The blow falls— another — and another. Surely the mother hears that cry " O EobertI pity I pity!" Poor gray-haired woman I Was it lor this you suffered a mother's pangs in your lone widowhood five and thirty yeaia ago? Was it for this you kept the little worn morocco shoes Janet hod first run in, and kissed them day by day when she was away from you, a tall girl at school? Was it for this you looked proudly at her when she came back to you in her rich pale beauty, like a tall white arum that has just unfolded its grand pure curves to the sun? The mother lies sleepless and praying in her lonely house, weeping the di£9cult tears of age, because she dreads this may be a cruel night for her child. She too has a picture over her mantelpiece, drawn in chalk by Janet long years ago. She looked at it before she went to bed. It is a head bowed beneath a cross, and wearing a crown ■ of thorns. ummmM^^^'-^^L^ i»..r. JAMIT'8 RIPINTAMCI. 347 OHAPTEB V. fact that the dauBhtor. W -!f /* '*"' "^erable to the For it w^n" Sunday Tut w^T^H^^'" '""^- weaver, just ".ettmg up" their week's "i" ^.^l^ a-.ureSth^er'it'ie^S^rjj'Th^trr^r ^r"" honorable, should read better^ th^Hd ]^"c™we' Jh "" only a curate, and not honorablei ^d whenZre ri!" Bobina wondered why some oli.,.,„™L * ^'"* not, Ellen MarrioHsur^d ^Z2 ZZ "^7 ""* °*^"'' was only the clever n.en ^ ^LTL^'^:,;"^'*'^*' ""^^ '' nott was going to be confirmed. She w IT shoit. f!fr' , g»l, with blue eyes and sandy hair, S w«1t^"y"°'P "ranged in taller cannon ourU than Cal ^7?^- T"''i J 248 SCESB8 OP CLERICAL LIPB. 'Mfll also about to take upon herself the vows made in Jier name at her baptism, had oUed and twisted her ringlets with especial care. As she seated herself at the breakfast-table before Miss Townley's entrance to dispense the weak coffee, her crop ex- cited so strong a sensation that Ellen Marriott was at length impelled to look at it, and to say with suppressed but bitter sarcasm, " Is that Miss Gardner's head? " " Yes, " said Maria, amiable and stuttering, and no match for Ellen in retort- " th— th— this is my head. " " Then I don't admire it at all 1 '' was the orusb-ng rejoinder of EUen, followed by a murmur of approval amc.g her friends. Young ladies, I suppose, ex- hai4it their sac of venom in this way at school. That is the reason why they have such a harmless tooth for each other in after life. The only other candidate for confirmation at Miss Townley's was Mary Dunn, a draper's daughter in MUby and a distant relation of the Miss Linnets. Her pale lanky hair could never be coaxed mto permanent curl, and this morning the heat had brought it down to ita nat-ural condition of lankiness earlier than usual. But that was not what made her sit melancholy and apart at the lower end of the form. Her parents were admirers of Mr. Tryan, and had been perswaded, by the Miss Linnets' influence, to insist that their daughter should be prepared for confirmation by him, over and above the prepara- tion given to Kiss Townley's pupils by Mr. Crewe. Poor Mary Dunn I I am afraid she thought it too heavy a price to pay for these spiritual advantages, to be excluded from every game at ball, to be obliged to walk with none but little girls — m fact, to be the object of an aversion that nothing short of an incessant supply of plum-cakes would have neutralized. And Mrs. Dunn was of opinion that plum-cake was unwhole- some. The anti-Tryanite spirit, you perceive, was very strong at Miss Townley's, imported probably by day scholars, as well as encouraged by the fact that that clever woman was herself strongly opposed to innovation, and remarked every Sunday that Mr. Crewe had preached an " excellent discourse. " Poor Mary Dunn dreaded the moment when school-hours would be over, for then she was sure to be the butt of those very eipUcit twnarkB which, in young ladies' aa well as young gaitlemea's 'h.M 1-^^Ti JANST'S RBPEMTAKCB. here comes the hidy tharknow. ^^t' """^"^ ^^""^ " " Oh pious I" people tjiink themselves so veiy ■nen. I obse^e that theb ^e„T°!i'"" "" y°"°8 ««"««- and if there had been a ^^Z^e^r™ "" 'J"'*« ^""^i at Milby, I am in«lii>ed toS^,T^i°"°« K-^a^fflen and the olassics, the ZZ ^ ^»^ "otwittgtanding Euclid ited itself iu more pm^- ^„! '" '""^'^ ""^ ''a^e exhib- was heard in iSs Tow^e^^^™ • """^ ^T''" '»*^«' "«° such academy, ^ el^e ^f Z^' ^"* ""'™ ''" »<> Crewe's 8nAtendeTc^°:i*J*di,r°^'''°'''~' '"'^«^Mr. that kind, and the gen^rvouth^^f m^^« "peculations of home for ihe midair hond.™^^'*^ ^'^ "^''^ «""'« e~l of us had J^t^S^coartS:'"aod'r.' '"^°°"'- ««- new responsibility apnareiAlv fni]!^ ' ^ **' assumption of we weri^ong^^SLs fol'Z? ' "'"***' °' "*"««' eould say that tiie ,ZZ^t Z.^^'^'^- ^ ^^ ^ with the solemnity of the .ic^on W *•" "" "" ' '•"«! find it difficult to recoaLizT^t:!- ^ ■"^'*"*'^^« W« developed form. anlTCL^^^'*' "!»'i*»«°'"» in their ceremony was a sense of^^^^ t *'°°*^° oonoeming the a.e "P-ulative'^beretiSrSort^fr t*^ "P^""' fined to the girls. It was a ^ vn' ^t ' °"«^* to be con- way with us men in othTc^iS^'thaTcT^ "^^^ ""* " " ""• confirmation. The «olZ,"^ *" °°f * ' ^°"» ''^"^ after Paat us, and we .«. nltg buTZd "k? "^T" °' ^"« ™* ■^r.'rr'^^ \°°'' ther:hrt^;,te'r? """' *° ^"" ments. ^ *"* "^^^ "> their Sunday ga,- .teriSoi^h^d ^^ -r.:^^ -"" ^^ hand? Can it be Janet ^nmlL ^^ ""^OW "» her .«.h deep pity, one "^^ S^ ^ S J^^ Tl°°^^ "^"^ Yes, no other wom«> in m^^^l^,^^^ If' 360 aOKNXS OF OLBBIOAL liIFB. MkLl eyea, that tall graceful unoonstrained figure, set off by her simple muslin dress and black lace shawl, that massy black hair now so neatly braided in glossy contrast with the white satin ribbons of her modest cap and bonnet. Ko other woman has that sweet speaking smile, with which she nods to Jona- than Lamb, the old parish clerk. And, ah I— now she comes nearer— there are those sad lines about the mouth and eyes on which that sweet smile plays like sunbeams on the storm- beaten beauty of the full and ripened corn. She is turning out of Orchard Street, and making he. as fast as she can to her mother's house, a pleasant cottug-e facing a roadside meadow, from which the hay is being car- ried. Mrs. Eaynor has had her breakfast, and is seated in her arm-chair reading, when Janet opens the door, saying, in her most playful voice — " Please, mother, I'm come to show myself to you before I go to the Parsonage. Have I put on my pretty cap and bon- net to satisfy you? " Mrs. Baynor looked over her spectacles, and met her daugh- ter's glance with eyes as dark and loving as her own. She was a much smaller woman than Janet, both in figure and feature, the chief resemblance lying in the eyes and the dear brunette complexion. The mother's hair had long been gray and was gathered under the neatest of caps, made by her own clever fingers, as all Janet's caps and bonnets were too. They were well-practised fingers, for Mrs. Eaynor had supported herself in her widowhood by keeping a millinery establish- ment, and in this way had earned money enough to give her daughter what was then thought a first-rate education, as well as to save a sum which, eked out by her son-in-law, sufficed to support her in her solitary old age. Always the same clean, neat old lady, dressed in black silk, was Mrs. Eaynor: a pa- tient, brave woman, who bowed with resignation under the burden of remembered sorrow, and bore with meek fortitude the new load that the new days brought with them. " Tour bonnet wants pulling a trifle forwarder, my child," she said, smiling, and taking off her spectacles, while Janet at once knelt down before her, and waited to be " set to rights, " •I she would have done when she was a child. " You're going :!MkJM ' t* iiSVT'B RIPENTAITCK. 361 Are those flowers to "taught to Mrs. Crewe's, I suppose? garnish the dishes?" ""^PPO^f J Uble"'^eTe?t"p I'^'" » '"^^^ ^- «"« -niddle of had cooked .to^tZ ^stetT'rf ^J"' "^^ "^ '« "otly with thegarnish^rl'S^'"^^f««J'„'« T^^ •"■ bad enough to have a,« aTL .?^°P- ^^® «"d, 'It's half so rLyX-Zlt^fTl^ T'^^ """ doesn't'want to feed all the h™^^pp,e' ^^f ""l"^' ^'^^^ ^ it was and expense for pSe wKt. ^' v^' "^ °""'^ *'°"W« UvesI 'We had^Toh . , ■ *°° """^ «^"'y ^aj "f their sitting-roT'elXyl NoXr "?,' ^""""^ »P <>* '»'« smell of Mr. LewXr,™; ! '''" *'"' ''° "'^"y ^^ the into the ba C^d^ri^v'e^w °'' ^.*'^ '"'"« "^'^ i* now I must iT^aV^r T.'""'' and dry lavender. And " Ym mlT 7" °" ^'^^ ^'^^ to Church, mother? » does^oTIetreLr^"''"'' '"" ^"''^ " P-t^ sight It yourhus^dK^ °°'"°''*"''''°'"'«"^''- " " Yes, Robert will be there T'~ ™oj u- guine^ and^^ the kcrif^llT' ^"""-^ <^"' "^^ """^ed beaten, for I can't endu^T,," ever bring me, to have him harass dear oTwr ITm™ T' °^*^«/^ «<»ning to Preaching the Gos^i ISJT't^^" 2 t" ""' ^^'■ makes evervbodv hoT™ T J^* '^ *** '^t G<»pel that ^■M5y Jf^ va 60BNXB OF OIiBRIOAL UnB. 31 m hMvineu of dread for the heavinesB of aotaal suflering: the onrtain of cloud seems parted an instant only that we may measute all its horror aa it hangs low, black, and imminent, in contrast with the transient brightness; thelwater-drops that visit the parched lips in the desert bear with them onlv the keen imagination of thirst Janet looked glad and tender now— but what scene of misery was coming next? She was too Uke the oistus flowers in the Uttle garden before the win- dow, that, with the shades of evening, might lie with the deli- cate white and glossy dark of their pebJa trampled in the roadside dust. When the sun had sunk, and the twilight was deepening. Janet might be seen sitting there, heated, maddened, sobbing out her griefs with selfish passion, and wildly wishingp herself dead. Mrs. Baynor had been reading about the lost sheep, and the joy thers is in heaven over the sinner that repenteth. Surely the eternal love she believed in through all the sadness of her lot would not leave her child to wander farther and fai-ther into the wilderness till there was no turning— the child so lovely, so pitiful to others, so good— till she was goaded into sm by woman's bitterest sorrows 1 Mrs. Kaynor had her faith and her spiritual comforts, tliough she was not in the least evangelical, and knew nothing of doctrinal zeal. I fear most of Mr. Tryan's hearers would have considered her destitute of saving knowledge, and I am quite sure she had no weU-defined views on justification. Nevertheless, she read her Bible a great deal, and thought she found divine lessons there— how to bear the cross meekly, and be merciful. Let us hope that there is" a saving ignorance, and that Mrs. Eaynor was justi- fied without knowing exactly how. She tried to have hope and trust, though it was hard to be- lieve that the future would be anything else than the harvest of th« Msed that was being sown before her eyes. But always there 18 seed being sown silently and unseen, and everywhere there oome sweet flowers without our foresight or labor. We reap what we sow, but Nature has love over and above that justice, and gives us shadow and blossom and fruit that spring from no planting of ours. JAKBT'8 BBPEMTANCK. 308 111 CHAPTER VI. •%Ht girlish forms ^anTfair^L'fi'' ** ^««"* "^'^ those rivulet along the aislerandflowed^inn "T*^ ^ ="''>**« under the Ught of the X,* I1„m*° ^^'"'8 semicircles patches of dMk old paL^^lJl ^ ''""*°''' ^^ft^-'d by to look on whUe Tp^U,£ZL T ^ """^^ '^"^^ *hat he^ls, and a venerabte fa^^S ^^'' l""^*"* -"""h young them, would be very likrtl't2e"K t' " '''™^« °" and to moisten the eves V«f t '^\h«»rt swell gently, very dry in Milby ChS thIfdL '^'?S: ""« 'y'" «'«'"«d Biahop was an old nT^and n™^w '^^'^'^^K ""at the he was not an eminent^rSn^ he "^ .YT' "' (^" *^°"eh lord) ; and J think the S^r;,t tl * "J™*^" °^ " ^^8 he had smaU delicate womaTisThtl/'?'"'"'^ '^'' "^^ and, instead of layirg ttZl^l^^.l^"™^ "''h ruffles, hover oyer each ilalokT^^ '^K ^'^' J"** '^t then^ to touch them, a^d s^if th^T '^ ** '^ '* ^""^ ''»* etiquette aieatrical embra^^ ottf/Z'a^d '^Z T" "^« "^ lieved in. To be h,™ f >,l ^ ^' ""* ""t to be reaUy be- the Bishop's ti^ Z'£:yZ: «^' --y heads,'^^d no circumstances be afFonHn™ " ^°^^^'^> a wig can, under and copious ^^-i^^^:^T.Z:ZT'' 1"^' any heart except a washerwom^'s ^ *° «° "^"^^y *° -de'Te^reSh^wol^tt.' ir^^H* ^ '"'' ^ ^ - him, whispered that he t^ougS tte Bist ""^'^ '""^ ''"'°»t I certainly remember thinking Sat A^/ ^"^f '^'^ much more dignified with his nl^„ ^" *^™^"8ast looked hair. He was a Z X^^Z7^'T^^^ '^'^ hlack in a strikingly sonoronH^^, ^' ""^ '^ the Liturgy imitate the nextZZarhor 7/°'"^'. ''''•"' ' '^'^ ^ to cry, and said I w^^yltTittr'^ """^ ""*«' »•««- I' I 2M BOENES OF OLEiUOAL UTS. Mf'l face and pnihed back his hair oftener than nmaj. Standing in the aisle olc: 3 to him, and repeating the responges with edifying loudness, was Mr. Budd, churchwarden and delegate, with a white staff in his hand and a backward bend of his small head and person, Huch as, I suppose, he considered suit- able to a friend of sound religion. Conspicuous in the gallery, too, was the tall figure of Mr. Dempster, whose professional avocations rarely allowed him to occupy his place at church. "There's Dempster," said Mrs. Linnet to her daughter Mary, " looking more respectable than usual, I declare. He's got a fine speech by heart to make to the Bishop, I'll answer for it But he'll be pretty well sprinkled with snuff before senrice is over, and the Bishop won't be able to listen to him for sneezing, that's one comfort." At length the last stage in the long ceremony was over, the large assembly streamed warm and weary into the open after- noon sunshine, and the Bishop retired to the Parsonage, where, after honoring Mrs. Crewe's collation, he was to give audience to the delegates and Mr. Tryan on the great question of the evening lecture. Between five and six o'clock the Parsonage was once more as quiet as usual under the shadow of its tall elms, and the only traces of the Bishop's recent presence there were the w'heel-marks on the gravel, and the long table with its gar- nished dishes awry, its damask sprinkled with crumbs, and its decanters without their stoppers. Mr. Crewe was already calmly smoking his pipe in the opposite sitting-room, and Janet wjia agreeing with Mrs. Crewe that some of the blanc- mange would be a nice thing to take to Sally Martin, whUe the little old lady herself had a spoon in her hand ready to gather the crumbs into a plate, that she might scatter them on the gravel for the little birds. Before that time, the Bishop's carriage had been seen driv- ing through the High Street on its way to Lord Trufford's, where he was to dine. The question of the lecture was decided, then? The nature of the decision may be gathered from the follow- ing conversation which took place in the bar of the Bed Lion that evening. JB ».-.._ j^w __ =r-k. mMTk JANETS BBPENTAWCB. "A, . •"" «. infested by f eet of mei^LjJ^, '%%"''«'' ""• «'»«'l' from an empty cask, to tunJ .^k ^ ?* *° «'''« ""^ •'ymns But I was no7thelesstotrrt''tiVirr*'^'""° •»"^- Churchmanship for the good of ^hf f *' """* "' «°nnd fight a battle when he's 8uZ>f L ^"^J ^^^ '^'^'d "an who has pluck to fight whrhe^^''f'^"?^"« -« «"« ">« way, sir; and there are manwW^,^ °'"'«- T'"'*'* ""y Mr. Trya„shalUearno^U^""'^°"**'''°'"'«f'»t, Z thafs^m^pit'Cd ftr^"*^.?"'* "' » ""^OP. a sneaking Methodist li^T,^""?-;*" «° -^""g w?a think we should be as weU^''. r^J"" "^ ^^ I no wiser than that mer. .^ ' '"'^"P''' » ^ey're » year an' liC in 7^,)! *%"" °: ^avin' thous^js Church?" ^"'' " '^ey don't stick to the Ep«copacy-it is a saf ^' S'^ii'^.^ "^ " wordagainst ranks and dignities thSe^ «... "''^ "* °"«'* ha^e bishop is not a good thine W «. k /^ *^PP*" <*»» » though this parllX^'^dyJ^/i,,^''^^yJa « good thing, rain-water caught downXS7'Het^:f«'''"«»^ hare something to drink a liH !t^' ,-,. ^' ^*"Me. let me and soot. » "^ ^' " ''**■« ^»™ l^ke a decoction of sugar '-^'^iZT^.rtlT"^^'"^"^''^ Mr. Tomlin. bishops; an'rUsayit^ZL^''"'"i' '°, "* '"'" 'i'""* never brought any ^iLT^yZm'' """"' ° ^*- «'*°P« PilgS..""" '"""' -^- "^ '-*"- are to begin?" said Mr i^lsS^tS^-ifratCiSofi-rc 3S6 SOXMIB OF OLnUOAL LITE. fighM prophet to foretM the «ud of thain. It striket me Mr. Tiyan will be looking out for another oursoy shortly." " He'll not get many Milby peopla to go and hew his lec- tures after a while, I'll bet a guinea," observed Mr. Budd. "I know I'll not keep a single workman on my ground who either goes to the lecture himself or lets anybody belonging to him go." "Nor me nayther," said Mr. Tomlinson. "No Tryanite shall touch a sack or drive a wagon o' mine, that you may de- pend oa. An' I know more besides me as are o' the sama mind." "Tryan has a good many frionda in the town, though, and friends that are Ukely tc stand by him too," said Mr. Pilgrim. "I should say It would be as well to let him and his lectures alone. If he goes on preaching as he does, with such a con- stitution as his, he'll get a relaxed throat by and by, and you'll be rid of him without any trouble." " We'll not allow him to do himself that injury," said Mr. Dempster. " Since his health is not good, we'll persuade him to try change of air. Depend upon it, he'll find the olimato of Milby too hot for him." CHAPTEE VII. M». DsMPsTKB did not stay long at the Bed Lion that eyen- ing. He was summoned home to meet Mr. Armstrong, a wealthy, client, and as he was kept in consultation till a late hour, it happened that this was one of the nights on which Mr. Dempster went to Vd tolerably sober. Thus the day, which had been one of Janet's happiest, because it had been spent by her in helping her dear old friend Mrs. Crewe, ended for her with unusual quietade; and as a bright sunset prom- ises a fair morning, so a calm lying down is a good augury for a calm waking. Mr. Dempster, on the Thursday morning, was in one of his best humors, and though perhaps some of the good-humor might result from the prospect of a lucrative and exciting bit of business in Mr. Armstrong's probable law- suit, the greater part of it was doubtless due to those stirrings JAUBT'S RKHlKTAlfOB. to lure the ,ighSt ohanTl^Sn ^ "' "''""•'" " «*'»• when we are ^t free ftZV^ ^^^^ momingi^ pe,h«p.. •nd take the Zr^r^l^J,/^^"^' }^ o' tk- wee^' ahaw our eaj and Jn^^^ "^ °" ^^ »* bwaUart to J«°dof a slighted wrro^^irJt^f?* "^ t^e tending of «.e days w'hen wltcU^.TLtSl w^"" T" ""^"' book, or wrote her loving lettew f™™ if T ^"* P"*^" whose childhood has known o^.e^ae™*; *" ""^ memory that can be touched to^^M.^ '^''^^' » *»»« °' ster, whom you havS!!! B«n'l» """>«», and Mr. Demp- Bed Lion, anTtheZSt^''„,':fi:: '"^.T""' "' '^«' was the first-bom darlinesor^ .f ^ ""'^'»''* '«'a«iy for her at thTbfeS taW, ^1°"* "^^' "« "«>'' -"i Dempster, looking up Jm h^'^w°* ^"""^v"*^'" '^^ ^■ lady entered. A ve^ "we oIH > T^' ''*'"' *« ''*"«« old «aroely wrinkled W h^ott l^ *^* ^»^ ''"■ » P«1«S that the locks have^oe^^ 1 f™^ ''^'*« "^''^ *^« on her head, and a whTte^L? ""^ ".'^^ P"« ''Wte cap You «.w at ; glane^ ttat she Ti^Zf °"" •"» '*°"W«" strangely unlike her tall nriv rtf * "»P>onne blonde, like her daughter-k-Uul ^'^T"^^^^^»^ -on; unl beauty seemed Xays t^k,wn ilf If- '"««-''«t»«'d brunette presence of littleSse^ Th^„^„,^''« ""«* ^ ^be white her mother-in-law wTnt LtItT T' '**'''*" Ja°«t and and indeed therTCutTl^''".''"?^'' ""> complexion, Mrs. Dempster Sd "t y^t leS*?^ t^'^ *^'«°' ^" "^ Bobert, wo'uIdhave^JwwnT^hrh i''"- **"* ^" •^' woman-a meek woif^ l^^heiej ,1 °"^1[ *^'' '^^^ ;r.:L^eS:ieran",2H?^^^^^^^ loveforherdaught^rfattrrfittSaiei 308 sounts or oLxiuoAt ura. the wd giowth of home-miaary through loog jtuw, alwan idth • difpoiitioD to Uy the blune on th« wil« nthar thui on U»e hwbuid, and to reprowih Mri. Eaynor for enoouraging har daughtar'i faolto by a too exolusiTe sympathy. But old Mia. Dempster had that rare gift of sUence and passivity which often suppUes the absence of mental strength) and, whatever were her thoughts, she said no word to aggravate the domestic discord. Patient and mute she sat at her knitting through many a scene of quarrel and anguUh ; resolutely she appeared imoonsoious of the sounds that reached her ears, and the facU she divined after she had retired to her bed; mutely she wit- nessed poor Janet's faults, only registering them as a balance of excuse on the side of her son. The hard, astute, domineer- ing attorney was stiU tk.: litUe old woman's pet, as he had been when she watched witL triumphant pride his first tum- bling effort to march alone ac.-oss the nursery floor. " See what a good son he is to me I " she often thought. "Never gave me a harsh word. And so he might have been a good husband." Oh, it is piteous— that sorrow of aged women I In early youth, perhaps, they said to themselves, "I shaU be happy when I have a husband to love me best of all " ; then, when the husband was too careless, " My child will comfort me " ; then, through the mother's watching and toil, "My chUd wUl repay me aU when it grows up." And at last, after the long jour- ney of years has been wearily traveUed through, the mother's heart is weighed down by a heavier burthen, and no hope remains but the grave. But this morning old Mrs. Dempster sat down in her easy- chair without any painful, suppressed remembrance of the preceding night. "I declare mammy looks younger than Mrs. Crewe, who is only sUty-five," said Janet "Mrs. Crewe wUl come to see you to-day, mammy, and tell you all about her troubles with the Bishop and the collation. She'll bring her knitting, and you'll have a regular gossip together." "The gossip will be all on one side, then, for Mrs. Crewe gets so very dea^ I can't make her hear a word. And if I motion to her, she always understands me wrong." Fy!£^..m.'^^* JAintT'8 RiraMTAMOl. -l°i t^^ii'^J' "vtwlf """ '°.-'^^' '- ""1 "«* de« M«. Crewe 'S on;"? "°* ^ '"'P«'i'«" «»»> •he', ever ti««ome toZoS ^H ' T * •*" ^" *° "'''''' to fancy herself fa the ™v 't^k 1°",'"""' 'he's very «„«ly »P to the ,ize of a mouZ that ^h"* k'""'** ^^' *"'^^ people good without Si*4;-f* ™« "bout «.d do loud ei,ri%T^ ^::^ 'r ^ "^-^ n.orniDg; and you can talk to her fo" me^ ' '"^'"'^ '"' I-wme. are out, J^ „oi^, ^ , '°f"^i "^"^ "^'^ ""« Mi« •ud amuae h.r. » "^* *" '®*^ <*« newspaper to her «dSSer'^„g:„r!S:' "°""«' ^ «'■ ^^-trong it would be bertory^h^^r* P "^'''' ' "«'"''» ""i°k aeetoeverythfag, Sh^^ ^ ^^.e S«e^?" ''"^' ^"^ 'o Be«y";ir.%\^i'-^-- ^-«' ^ P-'-ed her. her l^^Th^fflf. r ''i*"* -^^ *^' "«> beiran to .ip At length, when he w^^^Ln^,^,,'^-^^ ^- the paper,, eye seemed to be caught by som.f h? .v '^^^^'sements, hi. thought to hina. He pre^Uv th^ 1,^!!' '"^S™**" "^ «w of exultation, and ^.i^S^toTrt:'*' ''"- '^'^ ^ ^ dark-i^d'^^ethin'h^eSKeitlr ''" "'-^^ '^ "and you shall Jpme j^.T'f^f^'^'^'^^^oT). " What is it? '• said Tkn«; ^ ^2 ^* y""" "P to-" -^e pet name, Lw^hi^'^^-^r '^Sh'" ""^ ■"""" °' conveyancing?" »" Beiaom. Anything to do with laCh 'a^t T,;^ rti^i-r-" P'- ^o^ -i»8 . " What i« Jt ? vlT- , **°8 of hypocrites. " hope el^T"!^"*^* *1'»* ''ants a^needle and ».^^d I « V " I * ^ *""* tease mother " ' °' ""^°« "^P~ *I"^ your wit^^pt mine. I'U a M> 8CI1ME8 OP OLIRIOAL UFB. M jm what it U. We'll gtt up • procnmin. of th« Sondar •T«>iii« Iwtura, like • pUy-biU, you know-' Qnad Peffofm- •noe of the oelebrated Mountebtok,' and lo od. We'U brlu in the Try.mte»-old Landor and the reat-in appropriate oharaoten. Proctor ahall print it, and we'll cinmkrto it in the town. It will be a capital hit." " Bravo I » laid Janet, cUpping her handa. She would juat then have pretended to like almoat anything, in her pleasure at being appealed to by her hutbaud, and she reaUy did like to Uugh at the Tryanitea. " We'll aet about it direcUy. and sketoh It out before you go to the office. I've got XWan's Mrmona upataira, but I don't think there's anything in them we can use. I'ye only just looked into themi they'ro not at all what I eipeoted-duU, stupid things-nothing of the roar- ing fire-and-brimstone sort that I expected." "Hoaxing? No; Tryan's aa soft as a sucking dore-one of your honey-mouthed hypocrites. Plenty of devU and maUce m him, though, I could see that, while he was talking to the Bishop i but as smooth as a snake outside. He's beginning a smgle-handed fight with me, I can see-Vrsuading my cUento away from me. We shaU see who wUl be the first to cry pee- cavv\ lOlby will do better without Mr. Tryan than withwit Boberti Dempster, I fancy! and MUby shall never be flooded with cant as long as I can raise a breakwater against it. But °^'. !!* *^' breakfast things cleared away, and let us set about the play-bill. Come, Mamsey, come and have a walk with me round the garden, and let us see how the cucumbers are getting on. I've never taken you round the garden for an age. Come, you don't want a bonnet It's like walking in a greenhouse this morning." "But she wUl want a parasol," said Janet. "There's one on the stand against the garden-door, Robert.' The little old lady took her son's arm with placid pleasure. She could barely reach It so as to rest upon it, but he inclined a htae toward her, and accommodated his heavy long-limbed stops to her feeble pace. The cat chose to sun herself too, Mid w^ed close beside them, with tail erect, rubbing her sleek sides against their legs,-too weU fed to be ezoited br the twittering birds. The garden was of the grassy, shady 'Unr-B RMPUTTAWOE. wide, th. .hmb. Md Urdy^n'';'^ ""*' '"•'«""'• »"7 o' tt,«,n forth. mSr^^hJ^: '""""•'•■ '^'' ' """— heltty life la ^ CdJ^. i"",* " " ' •""•'<'« of b««m.o.Uou.i„worldlbl JLTedht^ """'""'" 1 '^ ■-> by chance impulBe,. niwffJ ci. ° "y ■*''' ensfaved to kili thedeeU^K' ^^^o^^* '""r ^- "-^ Itt -how the man f„,m whom wT^ 7"" ''"'"^'^ ^^x*-*" 1»« yet a olo«e brotherhood wfth^i. T P'***" ^ ahrink, ••oted feeling,. ^ ""'"•• through «,me of our mort 4'''S,TbeTft?tritin?tS"' '"'" "■" ">-' -O Mammy once more denosited ," „ k knitting in her hand, and tt^e «, '"i," •n»-<*»ir, with her wated herself at the'taWe. tLtllr '^^ '* *"" ""«''' J"«t n««r her, took out his snuff- W ,5^ ' ?«"».P«ter pl««Ki himself •oU with the inspiring wwder'l^ Plentifully suffusing him. What h, diotaL. ir£",X''ZT''- CHAPTER Vm. arge bow-wind;:;5'£' JerSlV "'"^"^ "^ ""* —OH the lady her«,lf was seat^^iS"";" ^ "' ^"^ "P*" ' and that table before her on ThTZ Z^Z% "^V"'™'"' '^^"^ " - White auted ..in, ,,^^ S^u^r 7^11;': 3«S SOEintS OF CLKRIOAL LIFE. te«-»emc« aa you need wish to lee, and quite good enough for chimney ornaments i indeed, as the oups were without handles, most visitors who had the distinction of taking tea out of them, wished that such charming china had already been promoted to that honorary position. Mrs. Jerome was like her china, handsome and old-fashioned. She was a buxom lady of sixty, in aa elaborate lace cap fastened by a frill under her chin, a dark, well-curled front concealing her forehead, a snowy neck- erchief exhibiting its ample folds as far as her waist, and a stiff gray silk gown. She had a clean damask napkin pinned before her to guard her dress during the process of tea-mak- ing; her favorite geraniums in the bow-window were looking as healthy as she could desire; her own handsome portrait, painted when she was twenty years younger, was smiling down on her with agreeable flattery ; and altogether she seemed to be in as peaceful and pleasant a position as a buxom, well- drest elderly lady need desire. But, as in so many other oases, appearances were deceptive. Her mind was greatly perturbed and her temper ruffled by the fact that it was more than a quarter past five even by the losing timepiece, that it was half-past by her large gold watch, which she held in her hand as if she were counting the pulse of the afternoon, and that, by the kitchen dock, \\udh she felt sure was not an hour too fast, it had already struck six. The lapse of time was rendered the more unendurable to Mrs. Jerome by her wonder that Mr. Jerome could stay out in the garden with Lizzie in that thoughtless way, taking it so easily that tea-time was long past, and that, after aU the trouble of getting down the best tea-things, Mr. Tryan would not come. This honor had been shown to Mr. Tryan, not at all because Mrs. Jerome had any high appreciation of his doctrine or of his exemplary activity as a pastor, but simply because he was a "Church clergyman," and as such was regarded by her with the same sort of exceptional respect that a white woman who had married a native of the Society Islands might be supposed to feel toward a white-skinned visitor from the land of her youth. For Mrs. Jerome had been reared a Chuiuhwoman, and havrag attained the age of thirty before she was married, bad felt the greatest repugnance in the first instance to re- ^mmm' JANET-8 BEPENTAHCB. ~-. 288 ^^''^Y^Sr^TZ^.^^'^s.. Ud been b«,„,M «t fasti but after T iTeL^!! °° f "^ »" *» ^r. Jero^ tWngs worn nor goin' to oCef ^.""^ « then, waa a nmny "ot m your way Mr SI' k^ ^°" ^^ '*'*** ' "^Migin' *° i' tune; you J ^^s sit dl„ *" ^"i: "^y°'* ««' "^ Pwyer'sdone. The miniate™ !iT^°" ^°''' ^^""^ the " ,the Churoh parsonTrwh7/rT/*'' ""■ ^« *^'»«» we're out o' ohanel i'thIZ- , ^"^^ "^tmake out. an' outo'choreh. t' « for "r"^' * '?«^ "--n" "^ A^o nor any i' Milby Churoh » ' " "" ' ^^ oonifortabler ^ade:-.J7^,V-^r^ve. i^n^^ ^ »™»nting eloquence for thl^ "S^" ^"^ »^^ "«tening to «>-eater«JtheE,tabli8hment^th^'j''; ""«''* "afely have quarantine. Her mind. Z>I^Z ^"^"T^H '^7 spiritual flm^ character which i7nofi^°eLT? "' *^* "°''-P<'~»» 'ng damp. But on the aZtioT^rt^^'^""^ surronnd- the day's business, and^C hef^*"*^ "' '^•' "« «" saiy sum of meals and the^n^f, .T"'^°"« °' "»« neoes- " po^ibie. so thatttVJirrr^""!;"* "^ " - -»<>" Mrs Jerome u-o, susceptiWe- a^J ^h, '° '*'* ** "^'>' «f thing,, united with Mr J^rltf ^"^"^ '^8«'^» Pa^ ^..w«nottobeborne'-aSZ-"TrXt£ n.^STTu'-hlln'S'Stnt^'^-"" ^^'^o" niver think o' corar^-no^l'ZnV ""' "■' ^f'" T>yan 'ul he's lettin' Lizzie stain h^ ^ r ^1? «°* '« »-«• An' NT^nder5^'r''' -'"^^^-^uteT"*^^^ name-" the White Houil " ". g?''^ ""^. '"'^^ deserved its -.- «- ^ damasa roses that clus- 364 80BNX8 OF OLBRIOAL LITK. twed over the porch being thrown into relief by rough Btncoo of the most brilliant white, yet the garden and orchards were Mr. Jerome's gloiy, as well they might be; and there was nothing in which he had a more innocent pride— peace to a good man's memory 1 all his pride was innocent— than in con- ducting a hitherto uninitiated visitor over his grounds, and making him in some degree aware of the incomparable advan- tages possessed by the inhabitanta of the White House in the matter of red-streaked apples, russete, northern greens (excel- lent for baking), swan-egg pears, and early vegetables, to say nothing of flowering " srubs, " pink hawthorns, lavender bushes more than ever Mrs. Jerome could use, and, in short, a super- abundance of everything that a person retired from business could desire <» possess himself or to share with his friends. The garden was one of those old-fashioned paradises which hardly exist any longer except as memories of our childhood: no finical separation between flower and kitchen garden there; no monotony of enjoyment for one sense to the exclusion of another; but a charming paradisiacal mingling of all that was pleasant to the eyes and good for food. The rich flower-bor- der running along every walk, with ite endless snooession of spring flowers, anemones, auriculas, waU-flowers, sweet-wil- liams, oampannlas, snapdragons, and tiger-lilies, had its taller beauties, such as moss and Provence roses, varied with espa- lier apple-trees; the crimson of a carnation was carried out in the lurking crimson of the neighboring strawberry-beds; you gathered a moss-rose one moment and a bunch of currants the next; you were in a delicious fluctuation between the scent of jasmine and the juice of gooseberries. Then what a high wall at one end, flanked by a summer-house so lo%, that after ascending ite long flight of steps you could see perfectly well there was no view worth looking at; what alcoves and garden- seate in all directions; and along one side, what a hedge, tall, and firm, and unbroken, likn a green wall I It was near this hedge that Mr. Jerome was standing when Sally found him . He had set down the basket of strawberries on the gravel, and had lifted up little Lizzie in his arms to look at a bird's nest. Lizzie peeped, and then looked at her grandpa with round blue eyes, and then peeped again. JANET'S REPXNTANCB 2M "v'^V*! *'' ^^•'"' '^ Whispered. _, Eh, eh, SaUy^ what's the matter/ Is MTlryan come? " trotted submissively 5one her ltol« W^'^ • , ""^ ''''° "Mr. Jerome, I wonder at vou " aaiH M,. r "W),«n „iii , iiusband opened the parlor door well hev th' urn in, thoufh he dWt «J^ T^ "' """^ " the like o' Tou Mr wLw ° , '• ^ '"^^ ««« d the trouble o^ ^tSi ^Tr^ Tk P*"^'"' *°' 8'^' ■"« an' after ^1 thfyl^n'f Ze T Tn''^^' ""»?«*« ""«1«. o' these tea-liiSs myLS^Z 1^ hev to wash every one break „ f„,« ^ myseu, tor there's no trustin' Sally— she'd ""*? " "'tM 1' orookety i' no time! " ' But wh" Trl" — ^- -;— _ .- . . ,- „. j-,^ g.-.a yvrtasoii sioh troabie, Susan? Our mmm SCENES OF CLBBIOAL LIFB. every-day tea-things would ha' dene as well for Mr. Tryan, an' they're a deal oonveneiiter to hold." "Yes, that's just your way, Mr. Jerome, you're al'ys a- findin' faut wi' my ohany, because I bought it myself afore I was married. But let me tell you, I knowed how to choose chany if I didn't know how to choose a husband. An' where's Lizzie? You've niver left her i' the garden by herself, with her white frock on an' clean stookin's?" "Be easy, my dear Susan, be easy; Lizzie's come in wi' Sally. She's hevin' her pinafore took off, I'll be bound. Ah I there's Mr. Tiyan a-comin' through the gate." Mrs. Jerome began hastily to adjust her damask napkin and the expression of her countenance for the reception of the clergyman, and Mr. Jerome went out to meet his guest, whom he greeted outside the door. " Mr. Tryan, how do you do, Mr. Tryan? Welcome to the White House ! I' m glad to see you, sir— I'm glad to see you. " If you had heard the tone of mingled good-will, veneration, and condolence in which this greeting was uttered, even with- out seeing the face that completely harmonized with it, you would have no difficulty in inferring the ground-notes of Mr. Jerome's character. To a fine ear that tone said as plainly as possible— " Whatever recommends itself to me, Thomas Jerome, as piety and goodness, shall have my love and honor. Ah, friends, this pleasant world is a sad one, too, isn't it? Let us help one another, let us help one anotiier." And it was entirely owing to this basis of character, not at all from any clear and precise doctrinal discrimination, that Mr. Je- rome had very early in life become a Dissenter. In- his boy- ish days he had been thrown where Dissent seemed to have the balance of piety, purity, and good works on its side, and to become a Dissenter seemed to him identical with choosing God instead of mammon. That race of Dissenters is extinct in these days, when opinion has got fai ahead of feeling, and every chapel-going youth can fill our ears with the advantages of the Voluntary system, the TOmiptions of a State Church, and the Scriptural evidanoe that the first Christians were Con- gregationalists. Mr. Jerome knew nothing of this theoretic basis for Dissent, and in the iitnio«t extent of his noletnifia! JAMBT'S REPBNTANOB, 267 a'Sril'l»°^7j"jS"«'" *" .ue,«o„ Wiethe. of minoe-pies and ^Lrcak« "^'"'^'^ ^y°'^i the eating season, were alZg^rfoTtt.^;- "^'T*'* '° '»''»"'»* all and doing weH wh^eas it S^ .^°^ ^"^""^^^ *'<"» e^U period fof induW to^^wh^f. ^f'"^^" *° ""'*''«' «>« Jerome'3dissentTeLgof ,ji aZil 1 P'""^- M'" is ea«y t» understand ^"al rre^Ar^ffitV"'' "' a good man and a powerful t,™=„^ "•"lof Mr. Tryan as hearts of the peonle h?H .^ P^^^^^f' ''^° ''as stirring the PaddifordChu^ch^akdl^r '"°7^ *° ''**™* him t^ the there than heha'd of t^ L'^""* f ^''""'^ "■"« "difiod courses at Sdem he had driv»"^),'r.'^'' ^- ^"""""'y'" <1«- day afternoons, ^d h^ sou Jht «^ ' I^^''^''^'^ '" '^'o Sun- Tryan's acquail^tance Kve^n^T'f"''^ "' ""^« ^^• warm interest with him a^dX f "'"' * ""bject of with gave that i.^erer'a^Ll/ opposition Mr. Tryan met there was a store ofTlibil't^f ^Xf Partisanship; for must find a vent somewhere 1^;!^,:/^"'"' ""*'"'' ^^^"^ man could only find it I ^1^^."^ '""^^ ""* "P"8ht a held to be enemies of ^,t^^/° ."«*""" ^""^ "^""^ he not hitherto CTr'^rHour^r ^V'^'"^ ^'^ seen'^:S.!nrs:?rtrd"'^:'*"' *^'- "^—f I-ve not Paddifo^C^^ "^'Ce^ r, t^ ""- I "-o «» Milby. On aU sprinkled with sJZ «, Z' ^'"' ^°'' *^' '""'"" "« the dead of night" ' '" ' ""^'^ ""^ 1™* ««ept in "Dear heart! dear heart! That's v«,.« k„j too, as hev to study. Wouldn't it J Wf T*"** ^"' ^°''' somewhere more out in the ™„£?^^^^^^ '" ^°" *^ "- andtide", /lS^Tr„r.t 'tV: ^- '^ f ^- «" and preach resignation to thos7poor things \^12 Z^ 288 SOBNBS OF OLBRIOlL LIFE. I m ' > *. .Ik. air and oomfortleas homes, when I oome stni^t from evaiy Inzuiy myeelf. There are many thing* quite lawful for other men, which a clergyman must forego if he would do anj good ui a manufaoturing population like this." Here the preparations for tea were crowned by the simulta- neous appearance of Lizzie and the crumpet. It is a pretty si; -prise, when one visits an elderly couple, to see a little fig- ure enter in a white frock with a blond head as smooth as satin, round blue eyes, and a cheek like an apple-blossom. A toddling little girl is a centre of common feeling which makes the most dissimilar people understand each othet; and Mr. Tryan looked at Lizzie with that quiet pleasure which is always genuine. " Here we are, hero we are ! " said proud grandpapa. " You didn't think we'd got such a little gell as this, did you, Mr. Tryan? Why, it seems but th' other day since her mother was just such another. This is our little Lizzie, this is. Come an' shake hands wi' Mr, Tryan, Lizzie; oome." Lizzie advanced without hesitation, and put out one hand, while she fingered her coral necklace with the other, and looked up into Mr. Tryau's face with a reoonnoitriug gaze. He stroked the satin head, and said in his gentlest voice, " How do you do, Lizzie? will you give me a kiss? " She put up her little bud of a mouth, and then retreating a little and glancing down at her frock, said — " Dit id my noo fook. I put it on 'tod yon wad toming. Tally taid you wouldn't 'ook at it." "Hush, hush, Lizzie I little gells must be seen and not heard," said Mrs. Jerome; while grandpapa, winking signifi- cantly, and looking radiant with delight at Lizzie's extraordi- nary promise of cleverness, set her up on her high cane-chair by the side of grandma, who lost no time in shielding the beauties of the new frock with a napkin. " Well now, Mr. Tryan," said Mr. Jerome, in a very serious tone when tea had been distributed, " let me hear how you're a-goin' on about the lectur. When I was i' the town yister- day, I beared as there was peesecutin' schemes a-bein' laid again' you. I fear me those raakills'll mek things very on- pleasant to voil" JAMBT'8 RKPBMTANCK. 269 "I've no doubt thev will attMnnHf i«j j » there will be a reguL TohT?^ ' "'!'^ ^ ^""* «P«»t there was when the XS ^t.^J'' ^"""^^ "^""^S' « an' ^l^^^ 'S'-:^, - « Be^pste. «ui't wi' brains. Howive» 7^™™^> '"°''^^' *'^'^«^ !>• wicked doin's, «>' rrSvS^Cwon M "'"' ""•"' "^ """ I little thought, Mr TrTar WW. T . °" ""'"' °°'°°«- handa twenty 'L ago Z MiTh^, J P"* "/ "^^ ^*» ^^ isiner young man nor he LT,t ^^ *"' * ''^"«""> P^m- fond of a extTgCsnor.!''!. \^*^ *^''*<^ °* ^^"^^^ whathe',comeV?i^ce "^iSL^"'.""" "''"»">' 'i^e for in a lawyer Mr t,». •» ! , «"•"* you must look ~d stories about wTo^ Z1C"V^ '^"«' ^ '"•" to it, Mr. Trvan A t^Z' u ^* ' ^"^ *" '*> '^^'^ druy wish to talk to. Yes! Wp ^-u T"'"' ^ y°« =>««d his wife, spite 0- r^'J^^^l,^. StL?'" '" °*'"P'**^ «"' that dUeg^ bnsine^i Tays. ««1 T." '""' ^ ^"""^ °' «ore to do wi' my^Jrs ?* 1Z ' J^* ""f" "^ '"'^ "° butPU»eo;^'r:^J;-y^P^^^ ^id^^rCn^Jr^ayt 't' »' ««« P^—tion." in a large nSnber of'^SrinrbijL^s!!^':^' '«?^^* "■« ^t ignor»ce of spiritual thb^i^'i^ S But ?? ""* tfcere would have hiiAn nn t^~~. f . ?'"*• ■•'ut I fancy Dempster had Tot ^fa^eST^ f ^'*'°" *" "^^ ''«'*"«• « al-n^d at anythinrrd do- he^utdT"" """ '"»*' cowed or driven awav bv in.nif ° I am not to be sent me to thTs pS f nd hi °'.P*"°°»' •^"'ee'- God has f«.m anything I ^^Vave'to^n" "/'""* ^'" ""^ »''""'' among the pe5.1e.lulTLTitr.T^' T, '°'°,? ^" '°* ttirt;t ^^ r ^sr^-^rd^sre^uSri Snnoay evening. DemrMfB,. „«" T ~ ,■' """ ooQicJi on ng. jjempster, you know, has pretended that .J'5!l«r:._fc:jL.^. 270 BOBirES OF OLERIOAL LIFX. slmoft kll the TMpeotable inhabitants are oppoMd to the leo- tore. Now, I wish that falsehood to be visibly oontndioted. What do you think of the plan? I have to-day been to see ssTeral of my friends, who will make a point of being there to accompany me, and will oommunioate with others on the subject." "I'll make one, Mr. Tryan, I'll make one. Tou shall not be wantin' in any support as I can give. Before yoa come to it, sir, Milby was a dead an' dark place; you are the fust man i' the Church to my knowledge as has brought the word o' God home to the people; an' I'll stan' by you, sir, I'll stan' by you. I'm a Dissenter, Mr. Tryan; I've been a Dissenter ever sin' I was fifteen 'ear old; but show me good i' the Church, an' I'm a Churchman too. When I was a boy I lived at Tilstcn; you mayn't know the place; the best part o' the land there belonged to Squire Sandeman; he'd a club-foot, had Squire Sandeman — lost a deal o' money by canal shares. Well, sir, as I was sayin', I lived at Tilston, an' the rector there was a terrible drinkin', fox-huntin' man ; you niver see'd such a parish i' your time for wickedness; Milby's nnthin' to it. Well, sir, my father was a workin' man, an' couldn't afford to gi' me ony eddicatiou, so I went to a nigiit-school as was kep' by a Dissenter, one Jacob Wright; an' it was from that man, sir, as I got my little schoolin' an' my knowledge o' religion. I went to chapel wi' Jacob — he was a good man, was Jacob — an' to chapel I've been iver since. But I'm no enemy o' the Church, sir, when the Charch brings light to the ignorant and the sinful; an' that's what you're a-doin', Mr. Tryan. Yes, sir, I'll stan' by you. I'll go to church wi' you o' Sunday evenin'." " you'd far better stay at home, Mr. Jerome, if I may give my opinion," interposed Mrs. Jerome. " It's not as I hevn't ivery respect for you, Mr. Tryan, but Mr. Jerome 'uU do you no good by his interferin'. Dissenters are not at all looked on i' Milby, an' he's as nervous as iver he can be; he'll come back as ill as ill, an' niver let me hev a wink o' sleeo all night." Mrs. Jerome had been frightened at the mention of a mob, ana uvx retiuspeotiye legui'd for tho religiuu-i coiiiinuuiua of *. 'A.-k ^%^) Wlf JAMWB RSPUKTAVCa. 371 Hh ?" !"«''»°'1 >°°ked at her with ai. expression of teX pat.«nt^p.tn.roh on the memorable oeeasiou when he rebuked Thank you, Mr. Jerome, thank you " ^ * thf^' v*""^? P*fP^ *^* P~*«'«een thankful to an old woman for saying " Ood bless you " ; to a little child for smiling at liim; to a dog for submitting to be patted by him. Tea being over by this time, Mr. Tryan proposed a walk in the garden as a means of dissipating all recollection of the recent conjugal dissidence. Little Lizzie's appeal, " Me go, gandpal " could not he rejected, so she was duly bonneted and pinafored, and then they turned out into the evening sunshine. Not Mrs. Jerome, however; she had a deeply meditated plan of retiring ad interim to the kitchen and washing up the best tea-things, as a mode of getting forward with the sadly retarded business of the day. "This way, Mr. Tiyan, this way," said the old gentleman; " I must take yon to my pastur fust, an' show you our cow — the best milker i' the county. An' see here at these baok- buildins, how convenent the dairy is; I planned it ivery bit my^lf. An' here ).' .c got my little carpenter's shop an' my blacksmith's shop; I io no end o' jobs here myself. I niver could bear to be idle, Mr. Tryan ; I must al'ys be at somethin' or other. It was time for me to lay by business an' mek room for younger folks. I'd got money enough, wi' only one daugh- ter to leave it to, an' I says to myself, says I, it's time to leave off moitherin' myself wi' this world so much, an' give more time to thinkin' of another. But there's a many hours atween getting up an' lyin' down, an' thoughts are no cumber; you can move alwut wi' a good many on 'em in your head. See, here's the pastur." A very pretty pagtue it was, where the large-apotted short- homed cow quietly chewed the cud as she lay and looked JAHXT'S RBPKMTAirOI. 878 to look !i5n ' T" ^"^ •*•"*•• «"^ worthlWrwhil, ^„. «, ^ ^* l^^^f '' • '"*'«' »<» y°«'d like to wa^k 1 »e » good bigfamily to supply, you know " rH«™ W, %!' mwa, Mj Tryan, o" wimmat I wutcd to My to you Cler- Knnen lUc. you. I know, .e, a deal mow ^ver^ «,. S. can weU meetj an' if you'll mek use o' my purrw anv tim. ZlrZ^:!^ """" ^ - •- o' any W^ ^Tte^^v^^ "Thank you, Mr. Jerome, I will do ,o, I promise you I ZT' ntlV"'^^ --;SXernSr,'"w£ they brought him home on a door, and the Sk of " i, wiS has been rmgmg in my ear. ever since. There are U,r«, IMe ohUdr«> HappUy the woman has her loom, Tshe wU Ib^ -W« to keep out of the workhouse, but she Cks vejlS in^h:;i^».^f:ai'-^i---"-M™w- He^n'arhts^Znt slfty^ iiriTtS^'^S .tdot^ir'"'.""^,rT' '^^ "KMrenwith^nodiTner to «t down to, and would reUeve his mind by going out in the aftenioonto ookforsome need that he IwTupply, «.m. honest struggle m which he could lend a helping hand tZ any living bemg should want, was his chief sorrow that ^v rational being should waste, was the next. S^ indeed liS.^" wTf' ^^ """*" '" • '°° l"-"^ use ^'sticks i Ughtmg the kitchen fire, and various instances of reoklessneM J«tt regard to candle-ends, considered him "::L m;:^'il^ to^ but he had as kindly a warmth as the morning^- Si'ti- -''"'"""f '' "' <^'^ '"'o- <»"^ ^t d^lhU^l' ^"" r™ "^^ """'y rosy-cheeked lad whom he delighted to li. Ke happy with a Christmas box, to the pallid m^^-^s&ammJlU MKBOCOn MMUITION TBT OMIT (ANSI ond BO TtST CMAKT No. 2) iai2.8 1.1 KiiUi^lj^ /APPLIED IN/HGE Ine leSJ Eott Uain StrMt Roch«tt«r. N«w York 14609 USA (716) 462 - 0300 - Phoo. (716} 288 -Mag -FoK 274 SCBITES OF CLXBICAL LIFE. sufferers up dim entries, languishing under tiie tardy death of want and misery. It was very pleasant to Mr. Tryan to listen to the simple chat of the old man — to walk in the shade of the incomparable orchard, and hear the story of the crops yielded by the red- streaked apple-tree, and the quite embarrassing plentifulness of the summer-pears — to drink in the sweet evening breath of the garden, as they sat in the alcove— and so, for a short interval, to feel the strain of his pastoral task relaxed. Perhaps he felt the return to that task through the dusty roads all the more painfully, perhaps something in that quiet shady home had reminded him of the time before he had taken OD him the yoke of self-denial. The strongest heart will faint sometimes under the feeling that enemies are bitter, and that friends only know half its sorrows. The most resolute soul will now and then cast back a yearning look in treading the rough mountain-path, away fron- the greensward and laugh- ing voices of the valley. However it was, in the nine o'clock twilight that evening, when Mr. Tryan had entered his small study and turned the key in the door, he threw himself into the chair before his writing-table, and, heedless of the papers there, leaned his face low on his hand, and moaned heavily. It is apt to be so in this life, I think. While we are coldly discussing a man's career, sneering at his mistakes, blaming his rashness, and labelling his opinions — "Evangelical and narrow," or " Latitudinarian and Pantheistic," or "Anglican and supercilious "—that man, in his solitude, is perhaps shed- ding hot tears because his sacrifice is a hard one, because strength and patience are failing him to speak the difficult word, and do the difficult deed. CHAPTER IX. Me. Tktak showed no such symptoms of weakness on the critical Sunday. He unhesitatingly rejected the suggestion that he should be takeii to church in Mr. Lander's carriage a proposition which that gentleman made as an amendment JANET'S REPBNTAMCE. 278 on the original plan, when the rumors of meditated insult be- came alammg. Mr. Tryan declared he would have no pre- cauhons taken but would .imply trust in God and this good raZ;defirt^ •"« ""^ t^^d friends thought his conduct rather defiant than wise, and reflecting that a mob has great S2Ton°J ""r^P*^ T^ ^"^ '"8^1 redress is imperfect »t- wfaction for havmg one's head broken with a brickbat, were beginnmg to question their consciences very closely as to Tt hnl' T °f " "^"*?' "^^y """^ *° their famUies to stay at home on Sunday evening. These timqious persons, how- ever, were in a small minority, and the generality of Mr. Try- an s friends and hearers rather exulted in an opportunity^f ^ZZr"^" ''" '\ '^' "^ " P"»«''" *° whoTthey were attached on oersonal as weU as doctrinal grounds. Miss Pratt spoke of Cranmer, Eidley, and Latime^and obsefved that the present cnsis afforded an occasion for emulating their heroism even in these degenerate times; whUe less highly in- structed persons whose memories were not well stored with precedents, simply expressed their determination, as Mr. Je- rame had done, to«stan' by "the preacher and his causl believing it to be the " cause of God." One Sun(^y evening, then, at a quarter past six, Mr. Tryan. ettmg out from Mr. Landor's with a party of hU friends^^o Jad assembled there, was soon joined by two other groups fiom Mr^Pratt's and Mr. Dunn's, and stky persons J^Z ™y to church naturally falling into rank behind this leading m tLw ?' ^Z"^^I^ ^^ '""^^'^ °* O'*"^-! Street Mr Tryan s fciends formed a considerable procession, walk- ZL^'tt \ I ''^'^'"*- " "»" '" ^'"^^ Street, and ^^t Mr n r^',*^"* ">« "Wef crowd was coU^sted, anc at Mr. Dempster's drawing-room window, on the uppe^ floor a more select assembly of Anti-Tryanites were gathered to witness the entertaining spectacle of the Tryanites walking to olurch amidst the jeers and hootings of the crowd re prompt the popular wit with appropriate sobriquets, iC^u'T^'Vt^^- "^P"*^^" playbill were pos^l^ may rot have been < -tunate enough to possess himself of this t J; 27« BCBNBB OP OLBRIOAL LITB. production, which ought by all means to be preeeryed amongst fehtM^* °" P«>^i"«i«l wligious hiatoiy, I subjoin a GRAND ENTBKTAINMENTI I I To be given at Mllby on Sunday evening next, by tlie Fiiiocs CoHEDiAS, TBY-IT-ON ! And bis flrat-rate Company, including not only an UirPASALLELKD Ca8T FOB Couror company 01 AFTBB WHICH The Theatre will be opened, and the entertainment will commence at Hau-Past Six, When will be presented A piece, never before performed on any stage, entitled, THE WOLF DT SHEEP'S CLOTHING; or The Mbthooibt lit a Mask. Mr. Boanerges Soft Sawder, . Old Ten per-cent Godly, Dr. Feedemup, Mr. Lime-Twig Lady-winner, Miss Piety Baifr-the-hook, Angelica, Mr. TaT-iT-OH. Mr. Gandsr. Mr. Toiric. Mr. Tht-it-on. Miss Tome. Miss Sbrafhira Tano. After which A miscellaneous Musical Interlude, commencing with The i^inento^ions of Jtrom-iah I In nasal recitative. JANET'S RBPSNTAKOI. 377 To be foll( I To conclude with a Oraitd Choshs by the XrUire Ordiatra oj etmoaied AnimaU I I But owing to the unavoidable abaeoce (from illneea) of the Biittdog, who hat l^ qf/lghUng, Mr. Tonic has kindly undertaken, at a moment's notice, to supply the " bark I " The whole to conclude with a i8creamin;/arce 0/ THE PULPIT 8NATCHEB. Mr. Saintly Smooth-Face, . Mr. Worming Sneaker, Mr. All-grace No-worla, Mr. Elect-and-Chosen Apewell, Mr. Malevolent Prayerful, . Mr. Folst-himaelf-everywiaero, Mr. Floutr-the-aged Upstart, . Mr. Tri it-ok I Mr. Trt-it-omI I Mr. TnT-iivoill 1 1 Mr. TRT-ir-OMl 1 1 1 lAr. Tbt-it-okI ! I ! ! Mr. Tbt-it-ohI I I I I 1 Mr. Trt-it-ohI I I I I I Admission Free. A CoUeeUon will be made at the Doors. FieotBo/ This satire, though it presents the keenest edge of Milby wit, does nut strike you as lacerating, I imagine. Bat hatred is like fire — it makes even light rubbish deadly. And Mr. Dempster's aaroasms were not merely visible on the walls; they were reflected in the densive glances, and audible in the jeering voices of the crowd. Through this pelting shower of nicknames and bad puns, with an ad libitum accompaniment of groans, howls, hisses, and hee-haws, but of no heavier mis- siles, Mr. Tryan walked pale and composed, giving his arm to old Mr. Landor, whose step was feeble. On the other side of him was Mr. Jerome, who still walked firmly, though his shoulders were slightly bowed. Outwardly Mr. Tryan was composed, but inwardly he was sufiering acutely from these tones of hatred and scorn. How- ever strong his consciousness of right, he found it no stronger ./•; 278 SCENIiS OF CLERICAL LIFE. fl I; armor against such weapons as derisive glances and virulent words, than against stones and clubs : his conscience was in repose, but his sensibility was bruised. Once more only did the Evangelical curate pass up Orchard Street followed by a train of friends ; once more only was there a crowd assembled to witness his entrance through the church gates. But that second time no voice was heard above a whis- per, and the whispers were words of sorrow and blessing. That second time Janet Dempster was not looking on in scorn and merriment; her eyes were worn with grief and watching, and she was following her beloved friend and pastor to the grave. II « CHAPTER X. History, we know, is apt to repeat herself, and to foist very old incidents upon us with only a slight change of cos- tume. Prom tht time of Xerxes downwards, we ha\e seen generals playing the braggadocio at the outset of their cam- paigns, and conquering the enemy with the greatest ease in after-dinner speeches. But events are apt to be in disgust'ng discrepancy with the anticipations of the most ingenious tacti- cians ; the difficulties of the expedition are ridiculously at vari- ance with able calculations; the enemy has the impudence not to fall into confusion as had been reasonably expected of him; the mind of the gallant general begins to be distracted by news of intrigues against him at home, and, notwithstand- ing the handsome compliments he paid to Providence as his undoubted patron before setting out, there seems every prob- ability that the Te Deums will be aU on the other side. So it fell out with Mr. Dempster in his memorable cam- paign against the Tryanites. After all the premature triumph of the return from Elmstoke, the battle of the Evening Lec- ture had been lost; the enemy was in possession of the field; and the utmost hope remaining was, that by a harassing guer- illa warfare he might be driven to evacuate the country. For some time this sort of warfare wa.>i kept tip with consid- erable spirit. The shafts of Milby ridicule were made more JANBT'S REPENTANCE. 279 formidable by being poisoned with calumny ; and very ugly stories, narrated with circumstantial minuteness, were soon in oironlation concerning Mr. Tryan and his hearers, from which stories it was plainly deducible that Kvangelicalism led by a necessary consequence to hypocritical indulgence in vice. Some old friendships were broken asunder, and there were near relations who felt that religious differences, unmitigated by any prospect of a legacy, were a sufficient ground for exhib- iting their family antipathy. Mr. Budd harangued his work- men, and threatened them with dismissal if they or their fam- ilies were known to attend the evening lecture; and Mr. Tomlinson, on discovering that his foreman was a rank Tryan- ite, blustered to a great extent, and would have cashiered that valuable functionary on the spot, if such a retributive proced- ure had not been inconvenient. On the whole, however, at the end of a few months, the balance of substantial loss was on the side of the Anti-Tryan- ites. Mr. Pratt, indeed, had lost a patient or two besides Mr. Dempster's family; but as it was evident that Evangelicalism had not dried up the stream of his anecdote, or in the least altered his view of any lady's constitution, it is probablo that a change accompanied by so few outward and visible signs, was rather the pretext than the ground of his dismissal in those additional oases. Mr. Dunn was theatened with the loss of several good customers, Mrs. Phipps and Mrs. Lowme hav- ing set the example of ordering him to aend in his bill; and the draper began to look forward to his next stock-taking with an anxiety which was but slightly mitigated by the parallel his wife suggested between his own case and that of Shadrach, Meshech, and Abednego, who were thrust into a burning fiery furnace. For, as he observed to her the next morning, with that perspicacity which belongs to the period of shaving, whereas their deliverance consisted in the fact that their linen and woollen goods were not consumed, his own deliverance lay in precisely the opposite result. But convenience, that admirable branch system from the main line of self-interest, makes us all fellow-helpers in spite of adverse resolutionr. It is probable that no speculative or theological hatred woiUd be ultimately strong enough to resist the persuasive pov/er of I 4 MO SCENES OF CLERICAL LIFE. oonvenienoe : that a latitudinariaii baker, whose bread was honorably free from alum, would command the oustom sf any dyspepido Puaeyite; that an Arminian with the toothache would prefer a skilJFul Calrinistic dentist to a bungler stanch against the doctrines of Election and Final Perseverance, who would be likely to break the tooth in his head; and that a Plymouth Brother, who had a well-furnished grocery-shop in a favorable vicinage, would occasionally have the pleasure of furnishing sugar or vinegar to orthodox families that found themselves unexpectedly "out of" those indispensable com- modities. In this persuasive power of convenience lay Mr. Dunn's ultimate security from martyrdom. His drapery was the best in Milby; the comfortable use and wont of procuring satisfactory articles at a moment's notice proved too strong for arental slappings, and longings after unattainable lollypop, served rather to darken than to iUustrate; and that at MUby, in those distant days, as in all other times and places wher^ the mental atmosphere is changing, and men are inhaling the stimulus of new ideas, foUy often mistook itself for wisdom, Ignorance gave itself airs of knowledge, and selfishness, turn- ing ito eyes upward, called itself religion. Nevertheless, Evangelicalism has brought into palpable existence and operation in Milby society that idea of duty, that recognition of something to be lived for beyond the mere satisfaction of self, which is to the moral life what the addi- tion of a great central ganglion is to aninal life. No man can begin to mould himself on a faith or an idea without rising to a higher order of experience: a principle of subordination, of self-mastery, has been introduced into his nature; he is no longer a mere bundle of impressions, desires, and impulses. JANZT'B RXPBin'ANOB. 98S WhfttoTer might be the weakneassa of the Udie^i who pruned the luxuriance of their laoe and ribbong, oat out garments for the poo , ■ istributed tracts, quoted Scripture, and defined the true Goep*.., they had learned this— that there was a divine woij. to be done in life, a rule of goodness higher than the opinion of their neighbors; and if the notion of a heaven in reserve for themselves was a little too prominent, yet the the- ory of fitness for that heaven consisted in purity of heart, in Christ- like compassion, in the subduing of selfish desires. They might give the name of piety to much that was only puritanic egoism; they might call many things sin that were not sin ; but they had at least the feeling that sin was to be avoided and resisted and color-blindness, which may mistake drab for scarlet, is better than total blindness, which sees no distinction of color at all. Miss Rebecca Linnet, in quiet attire, with a somewhat excessive solemnity of countenance, teaching at the Sunday-school, visiting the poor, and striving after a standard of purity and goodness, had surely more moral loveliness than in those flaunting peony-days, when she had no other model than the costumes of the heroines in the circulating library. Miss Eliza Pratt, listening in rapt atten- tion to Mr. Tryan's evening lecture, no doubt found evangeli- cal channels for vanity and egoism; but she was clearly in moral advance of Miss Fhipps giggling under her feathers at old Mr. Crewe's peculiarities of enunciation. And even elderly fathers and mothers, with minds, like Mrs. Linnet's, too tough tc imbibe much doctrine, were the better for having their hearts inclined toward the new preacher as a messen- ger from God. They became ashamed, perhaps, of their evil tempers, ashamed of their worldliness, ashamed of their trivial, futile past. The first condition of human goodness is some- thing to love ; the second, something to reverence. And this latter precious |gift was brougi-c to Milby by Mr. Tryan and Evangelicalism. Yes, the movement was good, thongh it had thai- mixture of folly and evil which often makes what is good an ofEence to feeble and fastidious minds, who want human actions and characters riddled through the sieve of their own ideas, before they can accord their sympathy or admiration. Such minds. 984 BOXmS OF OLIRIOAL LIFE. m I dare mj, would have found Mr. Tryan'g ohuMtor t«t much in nsMl of that riddling prooen. The bUised work of helping the world forward, happUy doei not wait to be done ^perfect men; and I ehould imagine that neither Luther nor John Bunyan, for example, would hare satiefied the modem demand for an ideal hero, who believee nothing but what ii true, feeli nothing but what ii exalted, and does nothing but what ii graceful. The real heroee, of God's making, are quite dlllerent: they have their natural heritage of love and oon- soienoe which they drew in with their mother's mUkj they know one or two of those deep spiritual truths which are only to be won by long wrestling with their own sins and their own sorrows; they have earned faith and strength so far as they have done genuine work; but the rest is dry barren theory, blank prejudice, vague hearuy. Their insight is blended with mere opinion; their sympathy is perhaps confined in narrow conduits of doctrine, instead of flowing lorth with the freedom of a stream that blesses every weed in its course; obstinacy or self-assertion wiU often interfuse itself with their grandest impulses; and their very deeds of self-sacrifice are sometimes only the rebound of a passionate egoism. So it was with Mr. Tryan : and any one looking at him with the bird's-eye glance of a ontic might perhaps say that he made the mistake of identifying Christianity with a too narrow doctrinal system; that he saw God's work too exclusively in antagonism to the world, the fiesh, and the devU; that his inteUeotual culture was too limited— and so on ; making Mr. Tryan the text for a wise discourse on the characteristics of the Evangelical school in his day. But r am not poised at that lofty height. I am on the level and in the press with him, as he struggles his way along the stony road, through the crowd of unloving fellow-men. He is stumbling, perhaps; his heart now beats fast with dread, now heavUy with anguish; his eyes are sometimes dim with tears, which he makes haste to dash away; he pushes manfully on, with fluctuating faith and courage, with a sensitive faUing body; at last he falls, the struggle is ended, and the crowd closes over the space he has left. "One of the Evangelical clergy, a disciple of Venn," says JAMST'B RXPENTAirOE. 3U the eritia tram hit bird'i-ay* ttation. " Not a ranark»ble ■peoimen; the uatomy and habita of hii ipeoiea have been detennined long ago." Yet intely, eurely the only true knowledge of our fellow- man ie that which enables ub to feel with him— which givee ua a fine ear for the heart-pulses that are beating under the mere clothes of circumstance and opinion. Our subtlest anal- ysis of schools and sects must miss the essential truth, unless it be lit up by the love that sees in all forms of ht.uian thought and work, the life and death struggles of separate human beings. CHAPTER XI. Mb. Tbtak's most unfriendly obtervera were obliged to admit that he gave himself no rest. Three sermons on Sun- day, a night-school or young men on Tuesday, a cottage-lec- ture on Thursday, addresses to srhool-teaohers, and catechis- ing of school-children, with pa . al visits, multiplying as hia influence extended beyond hif , wn district of Paddiford Common, would have been enough to tax severely the powers of a much stronger man. Ur. Pratt remonstrated with him CO his imprudence, but oonld not prevail on him so far to economize time and strength as to keep a horse. On some ground or other, which his friends found difficult to explain to themselves, Mr. Tryan seemed bent on wearing himself out. His enemies were at no loss to account for such a course. The Evangelical curate's selfishness was clearly of too bad a kind to exhibit itself after the ordinary manner of a sound, respectable selfishness. " He wants to get the reputation of a saint," said one; " He's eaten up with spiritual pride," said another; "He's got his eye on some fine living, and wants to creep up the Bishop's sleeve," said a third. Mr. Stickney, of Salem, who considered all voluntary dis- comfort as a remnant of the legal spirit, pronounced a severe condemnation on this self -neglect, and expressed his fear that Mr. Tryan was still far from having attained true Christian liberty. Good Mr. Jerome eagerly seized this doctrinal view 286 BOXSVB OP CLBBIOAI, LIFE. Of the snbjeot as a means of enforoing the suggestions of his own beneroWi and one cloudy .^ternoonf^tte end^ November he mounted his roan mare with the debimteation «E^ndmg to Paddiford and "arguying" the point ^ttli" The old gentleman's face looked very mournful as he roH« ^i."": t""^ ''t'f •"" •^•«' »^t-eerr;ws"f X hon«,s, darkened with hand-looms, while the black dusf ™ whirled about him by the cold November winT He I" thmkmg of the object which had brought him on thisaf^^ noonnde and his thoughts, according tf his habit w^n^I found vent every now and then in audible speech. It sCed that he could understand the clergyman's self-privrtion wT' 2Krc^rnSruK\TS:trce^bfan"^ *"'«"^ cuunmg Which combines m^r^a^t ^ ^ae^ra^ ^aS^ that no one sense is independent of anoth^so thattThe ttvL"^ ^"""y *"** * "<"««»' ~ toU whether our pbe dated with claws or hoofs instead of fingers, winld to Sv to remain on the lowest form? If so, it re«^t^ IdeS that our discernment of men's motifs must de^Td cTSe Sh^*^'''."" '^^ '"^"^'^ '" "^ "^S from ^ owTs^s! ceptibihty and our own experience. See to it frienrtofore df "?, '"'* °' " ^°*'*<^ »' clawed character, it keenest eye will not serve, unless you have the deWte fif Cs-^d W t*"^ nerve-filaniits, :Z^^l£'^^^: As for Mr Jerome, he drew the elements of his mor»l vision from the depths of his veneration andTty If heTi^ Sl^G^^'torthrsJe;^"'-^-^''^"'''"^-'^'^^^ fcJ'w^ll' ""^ "^"P"*"*' iotenuptedly, "it's too big a load fbr h« conscience, poor m^- He w^te to mek him^U £ JANET'S BEPENTANCB. aW brother, like; can't abide to preach to the fiutin' ™, . « ii present, and Uable to take TeuZ at £ SSI^a T .„«!*?'' '"•*"^°° "* ' olergyman'8 study, perhaps, your too active imagination conjures up a perfect sn^ger; wh^ -tlh^ stoong eoclesiastacal suggestions in the shape of the t^^ German pnnt from Overbeck; where the waUs^ W wifC : sZnSLrt" "''H -^^ the uSrsi^nerb^ Zr? ^ ^ I* *^ * ^"y "''""'^ ^ tt" background. snilblLTf^ ^* ^°l*° ^''"»'" -^l ""* Boenic prettiness SI 1 rt ""^y '^ *° " clergyman's character and c^m^ plexion; for I have to confess that Mr. Trvan's stnXJTa . very ugly little room indeed, with an ugKlap dTh LT^ on aie walla, an ugly carpet'ou the ioo^LiZ S v^^^^ cottage roofs and cabbage-gardens from the window hLo^ person, his writing-table, and his book-case, were ^e^ and the sole provision for comfort was a clumsy straiSt- M] *W 80BIIE8 OP OUnUCAL LIFB. backed wm-filiur, oornad with &ded ohinta. The man who could live in anoh a loom, nnooDBtrained by poverty, must either haye his vision fed from within by an intense passion, or he most have chosen that least attractive form of self-mor- tifieation which wears no haircloth and has no meagre days, but accepts the vulgar, the commonplace, and the ugly, when- ever the highest duty seems to lie among them. "Mr. Tryan, I hope you'll excuse me disturbin' on you," said Mr. Jerome; "but I'd summat partickler to say." "You don't disturb me at all, Mr. Jerome; I'm very glad to have a visit from you," said Mr. Tryan, shaking him heart- ily by the hand, and offering him the chintz-covered "easy " chair; " it is some time since I've had an opportunity of see- ing yon, except on a Sunday." "Ah, sir! your time's so taken up, I'm weU aware o' that; if 8 not only what you hev to do, but it's goin' about from place to place; an' you don't keep a boss, Mr. Tryan. You don't take care enough o' yourself— you don't indeed, an' that's what I oome to talk to y' about." "That's very good of you, Mr. Jerome; but I assure you I think walking does me no harm. It is rather a relief to me after speaking or writing. You know I have no great circuit to make. The farthest distance I have to walk is to Milby Church, and if ever I want a horse on Sunday, I hire Rad- ley's, who lives not many hundred yards from me." "Well, but nowl the winter's comin' on, an' you'll get wet i' your feet, an' Pratt tells me as your constitution's dillioate, as anybody may see, for the matter o' that, wi'out bein' a doctor. An' this is the light I look at it in, Mr. Tryan: who's to fill up your place, if you was to be disabled, as I may say? Consider what a valyable life yours is. You've begun a great work i' Milby, and so you might carry it on, if you'd your health and strength. The more care you take o' your- self, the longer you'll live, belike, Ood willing, to do good to your fellow-oreaturs." " Why, my dear Mr. Jerome, I think I should not be a long- lived man in any case; and if I were to take care of myself under the pretext of doing more good, I should very likely die and leave notiiing done aftei all." JAKTST-S RXPENTAKOE. "Weill bat keepin' a hou wouldn't hinder yon from work- in'. It 'ud help you to do more, though Fmtt says as it's usin' your Toioe so oonstant as does you the most harm. Now, isn't it — I'mnosoholard, Mr. Tryan, an' I'mnota-goin' to dictate to you — but isn't it a' most a-killin' o' yourself, to go on a' that way beyond your strength? We mustn't fling our lives away." " No, not fling them away lightly, but we are permitted to lay down our lives in a right cause. There are many duties, as you know, Mr. Jerome, which stand before taking care of our own lives." " Ah I I can't arguy wi' you, Mr. Tryanj but what I wanted to say's this— There's my little ohacenut boss; I should take it quite a kindness if you'd hev him through the winter an' ride him. I've thought o' sellin' him a many times, for Mrs. Jerome can't abide him; and what do I want wi' two nags? But I'm fond o' the little chacennt, an' I shouldn't like to sell him. So if you'll only ride him for me, you'll do me a kind- ness—you wiU, indeed, Mr. Tryan." " Thank you, Mr. Jerome. I promise you to ask for him, when I feel that I want a nag. There is no man I would more gladly be indebted to than you; but at present I would rather not have a horse. I should ride him very little, and it would be an inconvenience to me to keep him ratiier than otherwise." Mr. Jerome looked troubled and hesitating, as if he had something on his mind that would not readily shape itself into words. At last he said, "You'll excuse me, Mr. Tiyan, I wouldn't be takin' a liberty, but I kno. what great claims you hev on you as a clergyman. Is it the expense, Mr. Tryan? is it the money?" " No, my dear sir. I have mut^ mere than a single man needs. My way of living is quite of my own choosing, and I am doing nothing but what I feel bound to doy quite apart from money considerations. We cannot judge for one anotiier, you know; we have each our peculiar weaknesses and tempta- tions. I quite admit that it might be right for another man to allow himself more luxuries, and I assure you I think it no superiority in myself to do without them. On the contraiy, if mj heaxii were less rebellious, and il I were less liable to i I. 5 290 aOBKES OF CLERICAL LIFE. temptation, I should not need that aort of self-denial. But," added Mr. Tryan, holding out his hand to Mr. Jerome, "I understand your kindness, and bless you for it If I want a horse, I shall ask for the chestnut" Mr. Jerome was obliged to rest contented with this promise, and rode home sorrowfully, reproaching himself with not hav- ing said one thing he meant to say when setting out, and with having " clean forgot " the arguments he had intended to quote from Mr. Stickney. Mr. Jerome's was not the only mind that was seriously dis- turbed by the idea that the curate was overworking himself. There were tender women's hearts in which anxiety about the state of his affections was beginning to be merged in anxiety about the state of his health. Miss Eliza Pratt had at one time passed through much sleepless cogitation on the possibil- ity of Mr. Tryan's being attached to some lady at a distance— at Laxeter, pferhaps, where he had formerly held a curacy: and her fine eyes kept close watch lest any symptom of en- gaged affections on his part should escape her. It seemed an alarming fact that his handkerchiefs were beautifuUy marked with hair, untU she reflected that he had an unmarried sister of whom he spoke with much affection as his father's compan- ion and comforter. Besides, Mr. Tiyan had never paid any distant visit, except one for a few days to his father, and no hmt escaped him of his intending to take a house, or change his mode of living I No! he could not be engaged, though he might have been disappointed. But this latter misfortune is one from which a devoted clergyman has been known to re- cover, by the aid of a fine pair of gray eyes that beam on him with affectionate reverence. Before Christmas, however, her cogitations began to take another turn. She heard her father say very confidentiy that "Tryan was consumptive, and if he didn't take more care of himself, his life would not be worth a year's purchase"; and shame at having speculated on sup- positions that were likely to prove so false, sent poor Miss Eliza's feelings with all the stronger impetus into the one channel of sorrowful alarm at the prospect of losing the pastor who had opened to her a new life of piety and self -subjection. It IS a sad weakness inns, after all, that the thought of a man's i ^ JANET'S BSPBHTANOB. SM death hallows him anew to us ; as if life were not sacrad too— as if it were comparatively a light thing to fail in love and reverence to the brother who has to climb the whole toilsome steep with us, and all our tears and tenderness were due to the one who is spared that hard ioumey. The Miss Linnets, too, were beginning to take a new view of the future, entirely unoolored by jealousy of Miss Eliza Pratt. " Did you notice," said Mary, one afternoon when Mrs. Pet- tifer was taking tea with them — " did you notice that short dry cough of Mr. Tryan's yesterday? I think he looks worse and worse every week, and I only wish I knew his sister; I would write to her about him. I'm sure something should be done to make him give up part of his work, and he will listen to no one here." "Ah," said Mrs. Pettifer, "if s a thousand pities his father sdA sister can't come and live with him, if he isn't to marry. But I wish with all my heart he could have taken to some nice woman as would have made a comfortable home for him. I uued to think he might take to Bliza Pratt; she's a good girl, and very pretty; but I see no likelihood of it now." "No, indeed," said Bebecoa, with some emphasis; "Mr. Tryan's heart is not for any woman to win; it is all given to his work; and I could never wish to see him with a young inexperienced wife who would be a drag on him instead of a helpmate." "He'd need have somebody, young or old," observed Mrs. Linnet, "to see as he wears a flannel wescoat, an' ohar^i^s his stookins when he comes in. It's my opinion he's that cough wi' sittin' i' wet shoes and stookins; an' ti Mrs. WagstaS's a poor addle-headed thing; she doesn't half tek care on him." "Oh, mother I " said Rebecca, "she's a very pious woman. And I'm sure she thinks it too great a privilege to have Mr. Tryan with her, not to do the best she can to make him com- fortable. She can't help her rooms being shabby." "I've nothing to say again' her piety, my dear; but I know very well I shouldn't like her to cook my victual. When a man comes in hungry au' tired, piety won't feed him, I reck- ^*' 80XNB8 OP OLBUOAL UFB. on. Hard oanots 'uU lie hMTy on hit stomach, piet^ w no piety. I called in ooe day when she was diihin' up Mr. Tiy- an's dinner, an' I oould see the potatoes was as watery as wateiy. If s right enoagh to be speritial— I'm no enemy to that) but I like my potatoes mealy. I don't see as anybody 'uU go to hesTcn the sooner for not digestin' their dinner— providin' they don't die sooner, as mayhap Mr. Tr in wilL poor dear man I " " It will he a heavy day for us all when that comes to pass, " said Mrs. Pettifer. "We shaU never get anybody to fiU up that gap. There's the new clergyman that's just come to Shepperton— Mr. Parry; I saw him the other day at Mrs. Bond's. He may be a very good man, and a fine preacher; they say he is; but I thought to myself What a difference between him and Mr. Tryanl He's a sharp-sort-oMooking man, and hasn't that feeUng way with him that Mr. Tryan has. What i^ so wonderful to me in Mr. Tryan u the way he puts himself on a level with one, and tallcs to one like a broth- er. I'm never afraid of tolling him anything. He never seems to look down on anybody. He knows how to lift up those that are oast down, if ever man did." " Yes, " said Mary. "And when I see all the faces turned up to him in Paddiford Church, I often think how hard it would be for any clergyman who had to come after him; he has made the people love him so." CHAPTER Xn. Is her occasional visits to her near neighbor Mrs. Pettifer, too old a friend to be shunned because she was a Tryanito Janet was obliged sometimes to hear allusions to Mr. Tryan' and even to listen to his praises, which she usuaUy met with phiyful incredulity. "Ah, well," she answered one day, "I like dear old Mr. Crewe and hi. pipes a great deal better than your Mr. Tryan and his Gospel. When I was a Uttle toddle, Mr. and Mrs. Orewe QMd to let me play abont in their garden, and have a JANKT-8 BSPEMTANOl. 3W •wing batween the teat elm-tree«, beoauae mother had no guden. I like people who are kind ; kindness is my religirai ; •nd that's the Teason I like you, deai Mrs. Pettifer, though youorsaTryanite." "But that's Mi. Tryan's religion too— at least partly. There's nobody can give himself up more to doing good amongst the poor; and ha thinks of their bodies too, aa well as their souls." "Oh yes, yes; but then he talks about faith, and grace, and all that, making people believe they are better than others, and that God loves them more than He does the rest of the world. I know he has put a great deal of that into Sally Mar- tin's head, and it has done her no good at all. She was as nice, honest, patient a girl as need be before; and now she fancies she has new light and new wisdom. I don't like those notions." " You mistake him, indeed you do, my dear Mrs. Dempster; I wish you'd go and hear him preach." "Hear him preach I ^ Why, you wicked woman, you would persuade me to disobey my husband, would you? Oh, shock- ing I I shall run away from you. Good-by." A few days after this conversation, however, Janet went to Sally Martin's about three o'clock in the afternoon. The pud- ding that had been sent in for herself and " Mammy," struck her as just the sort of delicate morsel the poor consumptive girl would be likely to fancy, and in her usual impulsive way she had started up from the dinner-table at once, put on her bonnet, and set off with a covered plateful to the neighboring street. When she entered the house there was no one to be seen ; but in the little side-room where Sally lay, Janet heard a voice. It was one she had not heard before, but she imme- diately guessed it to be Mr. Tryan's. Her first impulse was to set down her plate and go away, but Mrs. Martin might not be in, and than there would be no one to give Sally that deli- cious bit of pudding. So she stood still, and was obliged to hear what Mr. Tryan was saying. He was interrupted by one of the invalid's violent fits of coughing. " It is very hard to bear, is it not? " he said when she was still again. " Yet God seems to support you under it wonder- 9M SUBNIS OP OUtBICAI. Lin. fully, Pny for me, Sidlj, tbat I might have strength too when the hour of great luSering oomee. It ii one of my wont weaknesses to shrink from bodily pain, and I think the.tlme is perhaps not so far off when I shall have to bear what you are bearing. But now I have tired you. We have talked enough. Qood-»?y," Janet was surprised, and forgot her wish not to encounter Mr. Tryan ; the tone and the words were so unlike what she had expected to hear. There was none of the self-satisfied unction of the teacher, quoting, or exhorting, or expounding, for the benefit of the hearer, but a simple appeal for help, a oonfessic. of weakness. Mr. Tryan had his deeply felt trou- blee, thon? Mr. Tiyan, too, like herself, knew what it was to tremble at a foreseen trial — to shudder at an impending bur- then, heavier than he felt able to bear? The most bcilliant deed of virtue could not have inclined Janet's good-will toward Mr. Tryan so much as this fellowship in suffering, and the softening thought was in her eyes when he appeared in the doorway, pale, weary, and depressed. The sight of Janet standing there with the entire absence of self- oonsoiousness which belongs to a new and vivid impression, made him start and pause a little. Their eyes met, and they looked at each other gravely for a few moments. Then they bowed, and Mr. Tryan passed out. There is a power in the direct glance of a sincere and loving human soul, which will do more to dissipate prejudice and kindle charity than bhe moat elaborate arguments. The fullest exposition of Mr. Tryan's doctrine might not have sufficed to convince Janet that he had not an odious self-complacency in believing himself a peculiar child of Gtod; but one direct, pathetic look of his had associated him with that conception forever. This happened late in the autumn, not long before Sally M a r t i n died, Janet mentioned her new impression to no one, for she was afraid of arriving at a still more complete contra- diction of her former ideas. We have all of us considerable regard for our past self, and are not fond of casting reflections on that respected individual by a total negation of his opinions. Janet could no longer think of Mr. Tryan without sympathy, JAHXT'S RIPBNTAMCI. 9H bat the still ihntnk from the idM of beooming hi* heuer and •dfflirar. Tliat waa a reverial of the past which was as little aooordant with her inclinatioD as her oiroumstancew. And indeed this interview with Mr. Tryan was soon thrust into the background of poor Janet's memory by the daily thickening miseries of her life. CHAPTBB XIII. Thx loss of Mr. Jerome as a client proved only the begin- ning of annoyances to Dempster. That old gentleman had in him the vigorous remnant of an energy and perseverance which had created his own fortune; and being, as I have hinted, given to chewing the cud of a righteous indignation with con- siderable relish, he was determined to carry on his retributive war against the persecuting attorney. Having some influence with Mr. Fryme, who was one of the most substantial rate- payers in the neighboring parish of Oingley, and who had him- self a complex and long-standing private account with Demp- ster, Mr. Jerome stirred up this gentleman to an investigation of some suspicious points in the attorney's conduct of the par- ish affairs. The natural consequence was a personal quarrel between Dempster and Mr. Pryme; the client demanded his account, and then followed the old story of an exorbitant law- yer's bill, with the unpleasant anti-climax of taxing. These disagreeables, extending over many months, ran along side by side with the pressing business of Mr. Armstrong's lawsuit, which was threatening to take a turn rather deprecia- tory of Dempster's professional prevision; and it is not sur- prising that, being thus kept in a constant state of irritated excitement about his own affairs, he had little time for the further exhibition of his public spirit, or for rallying the for- lorn hope of sound ohurohmanship against cant and hypocrisy. Kot a few persons who had a grudge against him, began to remark, wii^ satisfaction, that " Dempster's luck was forsak- ing him " ; paiticolariy Mrs. Linnet, who thought she saw dis- tinctly the gradual ripening of a providential scheme, whereby >* Bomm OF ouuuoAL ura. a Jnit ratribation would be wrought on the nun who had d*- ptived her of Pye'e Croft. On the other hud, Dempeter't well-iattafled olienti, who were of opinion that the punbhmen*: of hie wiokedneea might oonTenientljr be deferred to another world, noticed with tome oonoetn that he waa drinking more than ever, and that both hia temper and hia driving were be- coming more fnrioua. Unhappily thoee additional glaaiea of brandy, that exasperation of loud-tongued abuae, had other effeota than any that entered into the contemplation of anxious olisnts: they were the little auperadded eymbols that were perpetually raiaing the sum of home miaery. Poor Janetl how heavily the months rolled on for her, laden with fresh sorrows as the summer passed into autumn, the autumn into winter, and the winter into apring again. Every feverish morning, with its blank listlessneaa and deapair, seemed more hnteful than the last; every coming night more impossible to brave without arming herself in leaden stupor. The morning light brought no gladness to her: it seemed only to throw iU glare on what had happened in the dim candle- light— on the cruel man seated immovable in drunken obeti- naqr by the dead fire and dying lighta in the dining-room, rating her in harsh tones, reiterating old reproaches— or on a hideous blank of something unremembered, something that must have made that dark bruise on her shoulder, which ached aa she dressed herself. Do yon wonder how it was that things had oome to this pass — what offence Janet had committed in the early years of marriage to rouse the brutal hatred of this man? The seeds of things are very small: the hours that lie between sunrise and the gloom of midnight are travelled through by tiniest markings of the clock: and Janet, looking baok along the fif- teen years of her married life, hardly knew how or where this total misery began; hardly knew when the sweet wedded love and hope that had set forever had ceased to make a twilight of memory and relenting, before the on-coming of the utter dark. Old Mrs. Dempster thought she saw the true beginning of it all in Janet'n want of housekeeping skill and exactness. "Janet," aha said to herself, "was always running about do- JAIIIT'B RKPrnrrAIfOK Mr iaff things for other paopla, tnd neglecting her own hooM. Thiw proTokea a man: what use is it for a woman to be lor- ing, and making a fuss with her husband, If she doesn't tak« care and keep his home just as he likes it; if she isn't at hand when he wants anythng done; if she doesn't attend to all his wishes, let them be ( small as thej may? That was what I did wh«j I was a wife, though I didn't make half so much fuss about loTing my husband. Then, Janet had no children. " ... Ah I there Mammy Dempster had touched a true spring, not perhaps of her son's cruelty, but of half Janet's misery. If she had had babes to rock to sleep— little ones to kneel in their night-dress and say their prayers at her knees— sweet hojH and girls to put their young arms round her neck and kiss tvA" her tears, her poor hungry heart would hare been fed wit .orong love, and might neyer '■are needed that fiery poison to still its cravings. Mighty is the force of mother- hood! says the great tragic poet to us across the ages, finding, as usual, the simplest wwds for the sublimest fact— Jtoii/ t* Hmn Inlv. It transforms all things by its vital heat: it turns timidity into fierce courage, and dreadless defiance into tremulous submission ; it turns thoughtlessness into foresight, and yet stills all anxiety into calm content; it makes selfish- ness become self-denial, and gives even to hard vanity the glance of admiring love. Yes; if Janet had been a mother, she might have been savod from much sin, and therefore from much of her sorrow. But do not believe that it was anything eithir present or wanting in poor Janet that formed the motive of her husband's cruelty. Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside itself— it only requires opportunity. You do not sup- pose Dempster had any motive for drinking beyond the crav- ing for drink; the presence o' brandy was the only necessary condition. And an unloving, tyrannous, brutal man needs no motive to prompt his cruelty ; he needs only the perpetual presence of a woman he can call his own. A whole park full of tame or timid-eyed animals to torment at his will would not serve him so well to glut his lust of torture: they nnnld not feel as one woman does; they could not throw ont the keen retort which whets the edge of hatred. "• BCIRU or OLBUOAL UFB. Juat'i UUwiMM would orwflow in ratdy wordtt ■>>• wm not to b« made maek oy onwl^y j the would repmt of nothing in th( fM« of injoitioe, thoagh ihe wu subdued In • moment bgr • word or n look Uiat reonlled the old dayi of fondnete; and in timae of comparatiTe calm would often reoorer her iweet woman's habit of oareaaing playful atTeotion. But suoh days were become rare, and poor Janet's soul was kept like a Taxed sea, tossed by a new storm before the old waves have fallen. Proud, angry resistance and sullen endurance were now almost the only alternations the knew. She would bear it all proudly to the world, but proudly toward him too; her woman'a weakness might shriek a cry for pity under a heavy blow, but voluntarily she would do nothing to mollify him, nnlesi he first relented. What had she ever done to him but love him too well— but believe in him too foolishly" He had no pity on her tender flesh; he could strike the soft neck he had once asked to kiss. Yet she would not admit her wretoh- ednesti •!>• had married him blindly, and she would bear it out to the terrible end, whatever that might be. Better this misery than th j blank that lay for her outside her married home. But there was one person who heard all the plainU and all the outbursts of bittemeas and despair which Janet was never tempted to pour into any other ear; and alas 1 in her worst moments, Janet would throw out wild reproaches against that patient listener. 7or the ^-rong that rouses our angry pas- sions finds only a medium in ns; it passes through us like a vibration, and we inJiot what we have suffered. Mrs. Baynor naw too clearly all through the winter that things Were getting worse in Orchard Street. She had evi- dence enough of it in Janet's viaita to her; and, though her own visito to her daughter were so timed that she saw little of Dempster personally, she noticed many indications not only that he was drinking to greater excess, but that he was liegin- ning to lose that physioul power of supporting excess which had long been the admiration of such fine spirits as Mr. Tom- linson. t* seemed as if Dempster had some consciousnass of this— some new distrust of himself; for, before winter was over, it was obeerved that ha had renounced his habit of driv- JANIT'B RBPUITAinn. SM iof oat tloD*, tod WM MTM Mtn in kit gig without a Mrvant bj hit tide. Nwncfia it lame, but ghe U of ooloual tUtun, lika th* fodf; ud (Offletiinei, while her tword ii not yet untheatbed, •he ttretohei out her huge left arm and graips her Tiotim. The mighty hand U iuTiaible, but the Tiotim tottert under the dire olutoh. The variona lymptomi that things were getting worse with the Dempsters afforded Milby gossip something new to say on an old subject. Mrs. Dempster, every one remarked, loolied more miserable than ever, though she kept up the old pretence of being happy and satisfied. She was scarcely ever seen, as she used to be, going about on her good-natured errands; and even old Mrs. Crewe, who had always been wilfully blind to anything wrong in her favorite Janet, was obliged to admit that she had not seemed like herself lately. " The poor thing's out of health," said the kind little old lady, in answer to all gossip about Janet; "her headaches always were bad, and I know what headaches arc ; why, they make one quite delirious sometimes." Mrs. Phipps, for her part, declared she would never accept an invitation to Der , ster's again; it was getting BO very disagreeable t- (to tLere, Mrs. Dempster was often " so strange." To be sure, there were dreadful stories about the way Dempster used his wife; but in Mrs. Phipps's opinion, it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. Mrs. Demp- ster had never been like other women ; she had always a flighty way with her, carrying parcels of snuff to old Mrs. Tooke, and going to drink tea with Mrs. Brinley, the carpenter's wife; and then never taking care of her clothes, always wearing the samfc things woek-day or Sunday. A man has a poor loc out with a wUe of that sort. Mr. Phipps, amiable and lac aio, wondered how it was women Tore so' fond of running each other down. Mr. Pratt having been called in provisionally to a patient of Mr. Pilgrim's in a case of compound fracture, observed in a friendly colloquy with his brother surgeon the next day— " So Dempster ha-i left off driving himself, I scc; ha won't end with a broken neck after . You'll have a case of men- ingitis and delirium tremens instead." soo SOXintS OF OLXRIOAIi LIFE. "Ah," laid Mr. FUgrim, "he can hardly ataad it much longer at the rate he's going on, one woald think. He's been oonfonndedly out up about that business of Armstrong' g, I fanoy. It may do him some harm, perhaps, but Dempster must have feathered his nest pretty well; he can afford to lose a little business." "His business will outlast him, that's pretty clear," said Pratt; "he'll run down like a watch with a broken spring one of these days." Another prognostic of evil to Dempster came at the begin- ning of March. For then little "Mamsey" died— died sud- denly. The housemaid found her seated motionless in her arm-chair, her knitting fallen down, and the tortoise-shell oat reposing on it unreproved. The little white old woman had ended her ■« faitry age of patient sorrow, believing to the last that " Bobevt might have been a good husband as he had been a good son." When the earth was thrown on Mamsey's cofSn, and the souj in crape scarf and hatband, turned away homeward, his good angel, lingering with outstretched wing on the edge of the grave, cast one despairing look after him, and took flight for- ever. CHAPTER XIV. Thb last week in March— three weeks after old Mrs. Demp- ster died — occurred the unpleasant winding-up of affairs be- tween Dempster and Mr. Pryme, and under this additional source of irritation the attorney's diurnal drunkenness had taken on its most ill-tempered and brutal phase. On the Fri- day morning, before setting out for Botherby, he told his wife that he had invited "four men " to dinner at half-past six that evening. The previous night had been a terrible one for Janet, and when her husband broke his grim morning silence to say these few words, she was looking so blank and listless that he added in a loud sharp key, " Do you hear what I say? or must I tell the cook? " She started, and said, " Yes, I hear." "Then mind and have a dinner provided, and don't go mooning about like crazy Jane." JANET'S BBPENTANOK. 301 Half an hour afterward Mrs. Baynor, quirtly busy in her fatehen with her household labors-for ,he had^nl^a ume «^ r"^T.; ** '^} ^ " aervant-heard with trembling the rattlmg of the garden gate and the opening of the outer door. She knew the step, and in one short moment she lived before- hand Uirough the coming scene. She hurried out of the kitch- en, and there in the passage, as she had felt, stood Janet, her »C r™ "^ '^t' nigtt-long watching, her dress careless, her step languid No cheerful morning greeting to her mother- rt« 2!f *1'T'^ *"*° *^'' P"^°'' '^^ "•"'ti-S herself on the sofa opposite her mother's chair, looked vacantly at the walls and furniture until the comers of her mouth began to tremble, and her dark eyes fiUed with tears that fell unwiped down her cheeks. Th« mother sat silenUy opposite to her, ^raid to speak She felt sure there was nothinrnew the mat^ ter-sure that the torrent of words would come sooner or later. «t 1,^ «' wliy don't you speak to me?" Janet burst out ™« if L y°l'/°" V"* abo"t "ly suffering; you are blaming me because I feel— because I am miserable." Jl ^^4^' 'X^T "fK^^^^e you-my heart is bleeding for yotL Your head IS bad this moming-you have had a bad S H„*; v^ ""^ f *^* y°" * ""P °* ^ "O"- Perhaps you didn't like your breakfast." "Yes, that is what you always think, mother. It is the old story, you think. You don't ask me what it is I have had to bear. You are tired of hearing me. You are cruel, like the rest; every one is cruel in this world. Nothing but blame m« ^r:;: ,i °T' ^^ p'*y- ®°^ •" "^^^ ^ ^<^^^ sent me mto the world to bear all this misery " " Janet, Janet, don't say so. It is not for us to judge ; we must submit; we must be thankf-U for the gift of life '' Thankful for life! Why should I be thankful? "ood has made me with a heart to feel, and He has sent me nothing but nusery. How could I help it? How could I know that won d come? Why didn't you tell me, mother?-why did you let me mai-ry? You knew what brutes men could be; and there's no help for me-no hope. I can't kill myself; I've tried; but I can't leave this world and go to another. There may be no pity for me there, as there is none here " I 802 SOBKBS OF OLBBICAL LIFE. Ili ! " Janet, my child, there w pify. Hare I erer done any- thing but love you? And there is pity in God.' Hasn't He put pity into your heart for numy a poor sufferer? Where did it oome from, if not from Him? " Janefg nervous in lion now broke out into sobs instead of complainings; and i^.^^' mother was thankful, for after that crisis there would very likely come relenting, and tenderness, and comparative calm. She went out to make some tea, and when she returned with the tray in her hands, Janet had dried hti eyes and now turned them toward her mother with faint attempt to smile; but the poor face, in its sad blurred beauty, looked all the more piteous. " Mother will insist upon her tea," she said, " and I really think I can drink a cup. But I must go home directly, for there are people coming to dinner. Could you go with me and help me, mother? " Mrs. Baynor was always ready to do that. She went to Orchard Street with Janet, and remained with her through the day — comforted, as evening approached, to see her become more cheerful and willing to attend to her toilet. At half- past five everything was in order; Janet was dressed; and when her mother had kissed her and said good-by, she could not help pausing a moment in sorrowful admiration at the tall rich figure, looking all the grander for the plainness of the deep mourning dress, and the noble face with its massy folds of black hair, made matronly by a simple white cap. Janet had that enduring beauty which belongs to pure majestic out- line and depth of tint. Sorrow and neglect leave their traces on such beauty, but it thrills us to the last, like a glorious Greek temple, which, for all the loss it has suffered from time and barbarous hands, has gained a solemn history, and fills our imagination the more because it is incomplete to the 3ense. It was six o'clock before Dempster returned from ?-,^nerby. He had evidently drunk a great deal, and was in an angry humor; but Janet, who had gathered some little courage and forbearance from the consciousness that she had done her best to-day, was determined to apeak pleasantly to him. "Eobert," she said gently, as she saw him seat himself in the dining-room in his dusty snuffy clothes, and take some JANBT'B REPENTANCE. 809 br^'iZe"" """"' ^' "^'" '*''' ^P»*"' - Ws most T. "^J'''?f'^ ^T '^* "^^ '^aiBtcoat, they are so duatv I've laid aU your things out ready." J' »" «> auaty. jy^'ri^ )T' ^^'' y°"^" -^-' " *<"' ainutes he rose IeU„H .^™^ and walked upstairs into his bedro^J^ T- net had often been scolded before for not laying out his clothed tention'nf r^\' 7Z' "°l"^*^°"* '■°'"« -°»'-. that thiT^'. tention of hers had brought him to compliance «He™f ti" ".'^tlr*' "'^'^''*' " ""-^ »^« ^«°t "P'tairs. Hnnr fl • .*^*' '"' ''"'^' ■» ''°°° '«' "l^^ "ached the door, flmging at her the coat she had laid out. "Another time, leave me to do as I please, will you? " .n Jwr*" *"?« ''^*^ e"^^ fo^e, only brushed her shoulder, Thtl^.^"''"^''*^'*'''^'"*^'' drawing-room, the door of wh^ch stood open just opposite. She hastUy recreated as she saw the waistcoat commg, and one by one the clothes she had laid out were all flung into the drawing-room Janet's face flushed with ang.r, and for the first time in her ™!«rt' 'f?f 'f' °* oyeroame the long-cherished pride that made her hide her griefs from the world. There are moments when by some strange impulse we contradict our past selves l7w1^-°'°T *' .'» "" " ** "' P"'"'°°' "^« " 1»™ "toeam, lays low the work of half our lives. Janet thought, "I wil not pick up the clothes; they shall lie there uftil the^iBito« come, and he shall be ashamed of himself " her^"i„'X,^'"°°'' "* ^^ ^°°'' "^^ "•'*' °"^« ^'^^ to seat «3: ^ *^«^«'^8-«»n'. lest the servant should enter and m. I' °^"?' "^'^^'"^^ lyi°8 half on the table and half on the groiuid. Mr. Lowme entered with a less famUiar li^ ' " fr^ of. Dempster's, and the next moment Demp- ster himself came in. ■^^'^y .nfn'^T" -^t" "i* °T °° *" "'o*^**' «"•» then turned for 2 1 T-n^« '^r"'"' «'*°<"'°* concentrated hatred on Ja- A^. il'V- u^'".^**^.'^^ *^'''*«^ '^'«*''d unconsciousness. After shaking hands with his vUitors he immediately rang the I- / 3M SCENaS OF CLERIOAL UPB. "T«ke those clothes away," he said to tjie serrant, not looking at Janet again. During dinner, she kept up her assumed air of indifference, and tried to seem in high spirits, laughing and talking more than usual. In reality, she felt as if she had defied a wild beast within the four walls of his den, and he was crouching backward in preparation for his deadly spring. Dempster affected to take no notice of her, talked obstreperously, and drank steadily. About eleven the party dispersed, with tho exception of Mr. Budd, who had joined them after dinner, and .. ipeared "j-- posed to stay drinking a little longer. Janet b«i,uldn't you like me to go and fetch your mother7 " " No, not yet, not yet. I can't bear to see her yet." " Well, it shall bo just as you like. Now try and get to sleep again. I shall leave yon for an hour or two, and send off Phoebe, and then bring you some breakfast. I'll lock the door behind me, so that the girl mayn't oome in tiy chance." The daylight changes the aspect of misery to us, as of everything else. In the night it presses on our imagination — the forms it takes are false, fitful, exaggerated ; in broad day it sickens our sense with the dreary persistence of definite measurable reality. The man who looks with ghastly horror on all his property aflame in the dead of night, has not half the sense of destitution he will have in the morning, when he walks over the ruins lying blackened in the pitiless sunshine. That moment of intensest depression was come to Janef' when the daylight which showed her the wallg, and chairs, ud ta- bles, and all the commonplace reality that surrounded her, seemed to lay bare the future too, and bring out into oppres- JANRT-S RIPIMTAMCK. su dre dittinetnMt til tb. detaUs of a wwry lil, to ba llred from toy to djy, with no hope to itrangthen her >g.iiut that otiI ^^i.1 w'^^v^i^*^. ^ r.tro.p«ot w>d yrt w.. pow.rl«. to rMiit Her haiband woiUd never oonient to her liTing away from him : the wai become neoeuary to hU tyranny; he would never wiUingly looeen his graep on her. She had a vajnie notion of some protection the law might give her, if she could prove her life in danger from him; but she shrwk ut- terly, as she had always done, from any active, public reeut- ance or vengeance: she felt too crushed, too faulty, too liable to reproach, to have the courage, even if she had had the wish, to put herself openly in the position of a wronged woman •oekmg redress. She had no strength to sustain her in a course of seU-defenoe and independence: there was a darker shadow over her life than the dread of her husband-it was the shad- '"'/u r J^*"^!^- '^^^ *"'™* *^^« '°"ld be to go away and hide herB^lf from him. But then there was her mother : aobert had all her lit' e property in his hands, and that little WIS scarcely enough to keep her in comfort without his aid If Janet went away alone he would be sure to persecute her mother; and if she did go away-what then? She must work to maintain herself; she must exert herself, weary and bone- less as she was, to begin life afresh. How hard that seem^ to her I Janef s nature did not belie her grand face and form • JnTJ^^/fu"^' """* '"" "*"°«^ >° >'i but it was the strength of the vine, which must have its broad leaves and rich clusters borne up by a firm stay. And now she had noth- ing to rest on-no faith, no love. If her mother had been very feeble, aged, or sickly, Janet's deep pity and tenderness might have made a daughter's duties an interest ,.nd a solace- but Mrs. Eaynor had never needed tendance; , r had alwavs been giving help to her daughter; she !iad always been a sort of humble ministering spirit; and it was one of Janet's pangs lr^°1' **** '"'**"'^ "^ '^"S her mother's comfort, she had been her mother's trial. Everywhere the same sadness! Her lite was a sun-dried, barren tract, where ther was no shadow, and where aU thfl waters were bitter. 1 ^Z^- ^J^^^d^e^'y thought-and the thought was like an electric shock-there was one spot in her memory which I Jr:-: if \ I m ! I 1 F' mi S14 SCBNllS OF CLERICAL LIFE. seemed to pTOmise her an untried spring, where the waters might be sweet. That short interview with Mr. Tryan had come back upon her— his voije, his words, his look, which told her that he knew sorrow. His words had implied that he thought his death was near, yet he had a faith which en- abled him to labor— enabled him to give comfort to others. That look of his came back on her with a vividness greater than it had had for her in reality : surely he knew more of the secrets of sorrow than other men ; perhaps he had some mes- sage of comfort, different from the feeble words she had been used to hear from others. She was tired, she was sick of that barren exhortation — Do right, and keep a clear conscience, and God will reward you, and your troubles will be easier to bear. She wanted strength to do right — she wanted some- thing to rely on besides her own resolutions; for was not the path behind her all strewn with broken resolutions? How could she trust in new ones? She had often heard Mr. Tryan laughed at for being fond of great sinners. She began to see a new meaning in those words; he would perhaps understand her helplessness, her wants. If she could pour out her heart to him t If she could for the first time in her life unlock all the chambers of her soul I The impulse to confession almost always requires the pres- ence of a fresh ear and a fresh heart; and in our moments of spiritual need, the man to whom we have no tie but our com- mon nature, seems nearer to us than mother, brother, or friend. Our -daily familiar life is but a hiding of ourselves from each other behind a screen of trivial words and deeds, and those who sit with us at the same hearth are often the farthest off from the deep human soul within us, full of unspoken evil and unacted good. When Mrs. Pettifer came b ik to her, turning the key and opening the door very gently, .lane* instead of being asleep, as her good friend had hoped, was uitensely occupied with her new thought. She longed to ask Mrs. Pettifer if she could see Mr. Tryan; but she was arrested by d "ibts and timidity. He might not feel for her— he might be shocked at her confes- sion — he might talk to her of doctrines she could not under- stand or believe. She could not make up her mind yet; but JANET'S REPENTANCE. SIS lie was too Led. Jtlesg under this mental struggle to remain in "Mrs Pettifer," she said, "I can't lie here any longer- I must get up. Will you lend me some clothes? " ^ ' Wrapt in such drapery as Mrs. Pettifer could find for her tell figure, Janet went down into the Uttle parlor, and tried to ^t hT:/.*"' ''™'^'"" """' '"-""^ had^repLed forte^ But her effort was not a successful one; her cup of tea and bit of toast were only half finished. The leaden weight of dis- irnTTfir'""'^ "P°° ^"^ """'^ -""l "»»" heavily. The wind had faUen, and a drizzling rain had come on; there wm L rlnT? 'JT "*'''• ^'"*"*'''' P"'" but a blank wall, Td identrwithf'rr^ *°,'"'°'' *^«""'«"-" « "ot^-i^g Mrs. Pettifer got through her household work as soon as she Z 1^ ^t 'V^°r ''*'' ^'' "'"'^8, hoping that Janet would perhaps be able to talk a litUe of what had passed, and find some relief by unbosoming herself in that way. But Janet could not speak to her; she was importuned with the longing to see Mr. Tryan, and yet hesitating to express it. .JZ ^°"" P'«.»«'i,'" *''« way. The rain went on drizzling, and Janet sat still, leaning her aching head on her hand, and looking alternately at the fire and out of the window. She felt this could not last-thU motionless, vacant misery. She must determme on something, she must take some step: and yet everythmg was 80 difficult. It was one o'clock, and Mrs. Pettifer rose from her seat, saying, I must go and see about dinner. " The movement and the sound startled Janet from her revery W^"'*«T'"iJr '^°PP°'*^% were escaping her, and she said hastily, « Is Mr Tryan in the town to-day, do you think? " No I should think not, being Saturday, you know," said Mrs Pettifer, her face lighting up with pl4>ure: "but he would come, if he was sent for. I can send Jesson's boy with a note to him any time. Should you like to see him? » Yes, I think I should." "Then I'll send for him this instant." w 81« 6CBNBB OF OLBRICAL LIFE. CHAPTER XVII. When Dempster awoke in the ffloming, he was at no loss to account to himself for the fact that Janet was not by his side. His hours of drunkenness were not out off from his other hours by any blank wall of oblivion; he remembered what Janet had done to offend him the evening before, he remembered what he had done to her at midnight, just as he would have remembered if he had been consulted about a right of road. The remembrance gave him a definite ground for the extra ill-humor which had attended his waking every morning this week, but he would not admit to himself that it cost him any anxiety. 'Pooh," he said inwardly, "she would go straight to her mother's. She's as timid as a hare; and she'll never let anybody know it. She'll be back again before night." But it would be as well for the servants not to know any- thing of the affair: so he collected the clothes she had taken off the night before, and threw them into a fire-proof closet of which he always kept;the key in his pocket. When he went downstairs he said to the housemaid, "Mrs. Dempster is gone to her mother's; bring in the breakfast." The servants, accustomed to hear domestic broils, and to see their mistress put on her bonnet hastily and go to her moth- er's, thought it only something a little worse than usual that she should have gone thither in consequence of a violent quar- rel, either at midnight, or in the early morning before they were up. The housemaid told the cook what she supposed had happened; the cook shook her head and said, " Eh, dear, dear!" but they both expected to see their mistress back again in an hour or two. Dempster, on his return home the evening before, had ordered his man, who lived away from the house, to bring up his horse and gig from the stables at ten. After breakfast he said to the housemaid, "No one need sit up for me to-night; I shall not be at home till to-morrow evening " ; and then he walked to the office to give some orders, expecting, as he re- V ,|||ii| JANET'S RBPENTANCE. 317 mood this was more than «! i, ? In Dempster's where it suif^ ^11 1 ^^^"^ ^™ *° <»°'^°1 »>" temper value oi''^,^rz^''zz:!t^:„''v --^^-w^e ii«_ high wage; but usuaC tid h^ \T ""'^ ^ave cvUity. This morning, howeverml J^ ««eptionaI prudence, and Demnster w« T! ' . ■''"™'' «°* the better of a resolution for wSch Dawl i"*"* *° ™**' ^™ ''°™» .o.%s:r;E;rt::? °'id"' f -"i:^ ^ ■^^^ "I want- *„ toll "" ***" gatnered in her achine eves— wicked " LliZn^ to'v^^^ ' '--'•- -^^ could teU .eroLTtbaWoil S-" 's^^'^'r comfort ^X'you'a^trS"'"' '""' °'«'^*'^ ^-^ *^« And you did find it?" « Jr V "^"^ ^ *™'* y.r^jEmm^ ■ ,:< si^m. 330 SCENXS OF CLERICAL LIFE. glass and drank it. It blunted my feelings, and made me more indifferent. After that, the temptation was always com- ing, and it got stianger and 8tTonh' have, and I had iniured 1 <^ ''"'°« ^""^ '^'>"> «» yo" The image of tteCntTwH""^"'^'^ '" ^^ '^'» ■»">• and 1 seem J on thTblt "f ^^ ^"""J^u "" ^^^-y^here, I thought, just as you do tLri r'',.""***^ "^ "^''' '» temptationUdoin'^Lt'h^Lthe ' 1° °° ^"^^ ^*° "But," Mid^T^./^ji^'f '*!^''« "« *° "o^quer sin." alwaysloh"veSteiryS°°l'r:"'^-- '''""«'"« to Him to help me, and yet T^inVCC Tusrhr^"' c.^'^urii'Srriti£:tSsT'°.^''T"- ^- been only the road by whi,A He wi , I "* '""'^ ^»^«' Plete sense of jX owTsiTf d 11, * ^°". '" ""»* '^■ you would nev» have^l'^J il otwT' '^'^°".' ''''''"' in His love alone? I knoTTo w ^ ^"P**' ""* *™»*«d « hard to bwr I wo^^LZ.^'^'^'^^^' ^ ^'""' i* I feel that ^mjli^^ ll E ''^f^ "* y°" '«»«"'•• "emed a. dark to'L'TL ft d^^y^^L^Tr^l^^h 'TJ? again. He saw that «.» fi^TlI^ ^ i ^"y"" hesitated aa-ured of ^^pX S^m'^y^T^XfjlTy!^ o.erm^^i^rori^VorsTr^-io'^-h.i .^Bfw^-mi^l' S22 80BNE8 OF OLERIOAL UFA i The tale of the Dirine Pity wu nevei yet believed from lips that were not felt to be moved by human pity. And Janet's anguish was not strange to Mr. Tryan. He had never been in the presence of a sorrow and a seU-despair that had sent so strong a thrill through all the recesses of his saddest experi- ence; and it is because sympathy is but a living again through our own past in a new form, that confession often prompts a response to confession. Mr. Tryan felt this prompting, and his judgment, too, told him that in obeying it he would be taking the best means of administering comfort to Janet. Yet he hesitated; as we tremble to let in the daylight on a chamber of relics which we hare never visited except in cur- tained silence. But the first impulse triumphed, and he went on. " I had lived all my life at a distance from Qod. My youth was spent in thoughtless self-indulgence, and all my hopes were of a vain worldly kind. I had no thought of en- tering the Church; I looked forward to a political career, for my father was private secretary to a man high in the Whig Ministry, and had been promised strong interest in my behalf. At college I lived in intimacy vnth the gayest men, even adopt- ing follies and vices for which I had no taste, out of mere pli- ancy and the love of standing well with my companions. You see, I was more guilty even then than yon have been, for I threw away all the rich blessings of untroubled youth and health; I had no excuse in my outward lot. But while I was at college that event 'in my life occurred, which in the end brofight on the state of mind I have mentioned to yon — the state of self-reproach and despair, which enables me to under- stand to the full what you are suffering; and I tell you the facts, because I want you to be assured that I am not uttering mere vague words when I say that I have been raised from as low a depth of sin and sorrow as that in which yon feel your- self to be. At college I had an attachment to a lovely girl of seventeen; she was very much below my own station in life, and I never contemplated marrying her; but I induced her to leave her father's house. I did not mean to forsake her when I left college, and I quieted all scruples of conscience by prom- ising myself that I would always take care oi poor Luc> . But aa my return from a vacation spent in travelling, I found that I'^mmmmTi JANET'S REPENTANCE. empty, and I looked with J '^^ weariscme and greit^ndabso WngobTS evTn™ "'"^ ""' "^° '"^ «"»« paring to go out aaVS" J"rd7hIThL'°J" ^"■ • I tell you 8he is d^ '%hi .^'V i""*^ °'"' '"'"'" "y^ dressed in fine olothm w.. i • . ^ ™ * woman, h~ul was bent on oS,1krJj?/e T""' f ^"*'P- ^^^ her cheek A f«m„ ■ ^ ® '°°» """'» ^^^d *aUen over 1.- 't cStnutrxr^:;.^ - L:,Tr '•^; ^' "- asidethehair- itwa«Tu^^^j J; knelt down and turned in the power of rSe5toL!^.wf.^"°°-'^''' "^^ '■» back w^ not her own It ™7>. i^" ^"^ "'''*'«■ °" ''•'' uponmeinalltreouLr ItisWrC* '"'' '.!1'' bom. I couldn't look intn thl t T^'*"™ ^ "»d never been face would foUow meZ^ li^r\ ^'"^''' ^'^ ^'^^ the past-^it dTd^hi T ' "i* ^^ ^^«» I l«>l^ed back into . only one lin, Lt Z^'^ti^tlLuT^'^. ^^T '"^ to spend aU the rest of it iTJ^!^ «>«'able to me; that was, ^linlhad brought on one B^t Lw -^^^ °"'«™ f«»« the me? I had no comfort n!; I^\^^ ^^ *** possible for ^■,31'°..'''l^!° ^-■^-S-'yf-m Janet. WMU.ward«,e fire, and wtsar>Udi rrSirj!?^.'-/- «"*--J>e turned „„j it. , ° """ """ ne turned and they met hers, fixed on him with a l4.k His face in ihe images his his eyes on her, of rapt ezpecta- 82« SOEMBB OF CLERICAL LIFE. mi tion, with which one clinging to k slippery summit of rook, while the waves are rising higher and higher, watches the boat that has put from shore to his rescue. " You see, Mrs. Dempster, how deep my need was. I went on in this way for montiis. I was coavinoed that if I ever got health and comfort, it must be from religion. I went to hear celebrated preachers, and I read religious books. But I found nothing that fitted my own need. The faith which puts the sinner in possession of salvation seemed, as I understood it, to be quite out of my reach. T had no faith ; I only felt ut- terly wretched, under the power of habits and dispositions which had wrought hideous evil. At last, as I told you, I found a friend to whom I opened all my feelings — to whom I confessed everything. He was a man who had gone through very deep experience, and could understand the different wants of different minds. He made it clear to me that the only preparation for coming to Christ and partaking of His salva- tion, was that very sense of guilt and helplessness which was weighing me down. He said. You are weary and heavy-laden ; well, it is you Christ invites to come to Him and find rest. He asks you to cling to Him, to lean on Him ; He does not command yon to walk alone without stumbling. He does not tell you, as your fellow-men do, that you must first merit His love; He neither condemns nor reproaches you for the past, He only bids ^-ou come to Him that you may have life : He bids you stretch out your hands, and take of the fulness of Hia love. You have only to rest on Him as a child rests on its mother's arms, and you will be upborne by His divine strength. That is what is meant by faith. Your evil habits, yon feel, are too strong for you ; you are unable to wrestle wil^ them; you know beforehand you shall fall. But when once we feel our helplessness in that way, and go to the Sa- viour, desiring to be freed from the power as well as the pun- ishment of sin, we are no longer left to our own strength. As long as we live in rebellion against God, desiring to have our own will, seeking happiness in the things of this world, it is as if we shut ourselves up in a crowded stifling room, where we breathe only poisOTied air; but ws have only to wrik oat under the infinite heavens, and we breathe the pure free air . adP JANBT'8 REPEMTANOE. S2ft holy, it U M if the wJu h.^Vi, . ' ""^ ""^" P"" ""d from God, Md we i^ f^ J^'u t*^'" ,'*.°'^ "»* •»"'' "« out .trongth." "^ '""' «" 'P'^'' 'Woh give, u, new of W^iH I felt tK^"""^": '""""'•'^ » *»"• -'d.t n>e.tre„g,StoidV?ul'^;'^ut'^TL"dH"^^^^ find peace and .trength? " *"' "^"^ y°" "^ .way With the ?L fZTn 2riJrwh:t7h:?hT' H f bring on another. My friend niu«? f^ff ^''P"* *° »in agunst God waa ^aterfh^r^ • *' "P°" """ ""* "^ .werving in search of ple«ure ^^1° S^ ? Z^^' '''*°"' the left. IthasbeenoLTawX^lSufGo^'?!'" w,ft m^d perhap. it n,ay not iStTwr^ "^ '^^ and^or'arrrhehS'f^^Z^ror'"^"^"-^ .her«„^,toher.lf,itw°.?^aterf:.Sr"- "^^ been taking o^lyTmySlT I wrir°^' "^^ ^ ^'« tented becau^ i hid pa^Sar Yo„^^^ ""fl 'l"'^ ''^"• feeling that I have W 7„ „«^'., ■/ " ""''" ^^ *«* kicked to Bend me tria^^ ^dtmnf^' **"* ''""' *^ ^ '"'» «>™el " Yea. I hid lT.H ^ u, ""^ ''°"'' ^'"^ "tJ"'" have." that a;^i SlSt 'S'K'"Jl^"«'''^ «<^ I know wL ^Butr^rwTkLo:? ^^=fo^tii Sra «M 80XMI8 or OUCRICAL LIFI. I ing of the tnwllMt ereat in our own lot; how oan wo preiama to jndga of thingi that are lo mnoh too high for u*7 There is nothing that beoomea ua but entira aubmiaaion, parfact reaig- nation. Aa long aa we aet up our own will and our own wii- dom againat Ood'a, we make that wall between ua and Hii love which I have apoken of juat now. But aa aoon aa we lay ouraelvea entirely at Hie feet, we have enough light given us to guide our own atepa; aa the foot-soldier who heara nothing of the oounoila that determine the oouraa of the great battle he in in, heara plainly enough the word of command which he must himaelf obey. I know, dear Mra. Dempater, I know it ia hard— the hardeat thing of all, perhaps — to flaah and blood. But carry that difficulty to the Saviour along with all your Other sins and weaknesses, and ask Him to pour into you a apirit of submission. He enters into your struggles; He has drunk the cup of our suffering to the dregs; He knows the hard wrestling it costs us to say, ' Not my will, but Thine be done.' " "Pray with me," said Janet — "pray now that I may have light and strength." CHAPTER XIX. Bivona leaving Janet, Mr. Tryan urged her strongly to ■end for her mother. "Do not wound her," he said, "by ahntting her out any longer from your troubles. It is right that you should be with her." "Yes, I will send for her," said Janet. "But I would rather not go to my mother's yet, because my husband is sure to think I am there, and he might come and fetch me. I can't go back to him ... at leaat, not yet. Ought I to go back to him?" " Ko, certainly not, at preaent. Something should be done to secure you from violence. Your mother, I think, should consult some confidential friend, some man of character and experienoe, who might mediate between you and roar hus- band," JAMIT'S RBPEirrAiroi. 837 wMt no on. to knowX« V^^-'^'e' ^ •*•" "»«• I " Vou wil^ not b. leTto yl",^^''^^' ^ -r "' " have been able to give vou .rn! . . . " "'"' y°"- « I power iu>d love Uve^r""^,'"'"^'. " » b.oau.e Hi. you again to-morrow-nT hat™ ""•»> """■ ^ ''"^1 -• day. you know, bnl after tte .v. '""I''' '"' '' "'" "« S*"" "berty. You w'm li'^ty pX^'^'r" 't"^' ^ ** tune, dear Mr,. Dempater o^^t ' '? f"' ^" **•" »««» c« to your mother and Mr, ^^ett^r, T." °'"°'' " y" the pride that n>a^, „. Ih ■ ^^V" ^"" »*»y '«>m you w«»kSe„ totr Sd,. A.ti'^lr'"°''l"^-8 '- yourwlf from the leaai .ppr^h of tT. .f ^ ^°" ^ f^"*'"* Deprive your,elf a. far af Sle of^h. ^"^ '"°" '^'^■ portunity of oommitting it^™' °^ff VT °'"*°' "d op- m humility and depeZ.^i, a p^;J°V *^* ^"^ ""^« do thi,. " i~-»«i«i la a prayer. Promwe me you wUl p^udri^Srato^STtJr" ""z' •-«" *- I have been proud tow«d »^^!^ ""^ °°* •'^"t my^if. -e »e .n«^ whenrh-rrr- ^-:: -- See what w^k there i. tobe do^'i^, II!/"' -'" ^o"? sou], and for othem Sn«j -T *> both m our own have more o^Iwa of tti,w^i^ '* "?"*" "'*" "I'otber we Keep that great enTof wl Uf ""^ '"Joynentof Hi, love will seem 'Zj tt ,mS ^Zr' f^ ^°" ^^^''^^ ^""^ must go." hardship, of a journey. Now I t 328 S0BNE8 OF CLERICAL LIFB. riong, eSeotaal, mighty as the hidden prooess by whioh the tiny seed is quickened, 'and bursts forth into tall stem and broad leaf, and glowing tasselled flower. Ideas are often poor ghosts; our sun-filled eyes cannot discern them; they pass athwart us in thin vapor, and cannot make themselves felt. But sometimes they are made flesh; they breathe upon us with warm breath, they touch us with soft responsive hands, they look at us with sad sincere eyes, and speak to us in ap- pealing tones; they are clothed in a living human soul, with all its conflicts, its faith, and its love. Then their presence is a power, then they shake us like a passion, and we are drawn after them with gentle compulsion, as flame is drawn to flame. Janet's dark grand face, still fatigued, had become quite calm, and lodged up, as she sat, with a humble childlike ex- pression at the thin blond face and slightly sunken gray eyes whioh now shone with hectio brightness. She might have been taken for an image of passionate strength beaten and worn with conflict; and he for an image of the self-renounc- ing faith which has soothed that conflict into rest. As he looked at the sweet submissive face, he remembered its look of despairing anguish, and his heart was very full as he turned away from her. "Let me only live to see this work confirmed, and then ..." It was nearly ten o'clock when Mr. Tryan left, but Janet waa bent on sending for her mother; so Mrs. Pettifer, as the read^t plan, put on her bonnet and went herself to fetch Mrs. Baynor. The mother had been too long used to expect that every fresh week would be more painful than the last, for Mrs. Pettifer's news to come upon her with the shock of a sur- prise. Quietly, without any show of distress, she made up a bundle of clothes, and, telling her little maid that she should not return home that night, accompanied Mrs. Pettifer back in silence. When they entered the parlor, Janet, wearied out, had sunk to sleep in tiie large chair, which stood with its back to the door. The noise of the opming door disturbed her, and she was looking round wonderingly, when Mrs. Baynor cams up to her chair, and said, "It's your mother, Janet." 'f ' M V -^^ JANET'S REPENTANCE. ^ I will not grieve you wyS^.f^'^'' *" y°"' "»' ^ «-« bei The calmness which had with.t^^ -e by a new Joy. and tht l^tLT^^'^:^. "" °^'»- CHAPTER XX. outVSrs^tof ?r^ -r • r "-^^ ^--^^^ shining mass of white obuT'"' /" ^'' ''°"««-toP'', « sky- ItwasgoiItote7.1,~"7 "Ifd'.Pthe far-away hue left clear andiLnfXr thl^^ ^^"^ ^^- ^ie fresh sky, singled its -Ud inllf/J^S"" "' "^-^ ""'» ^'^ P«»pects. She felt a b— »if^ 1' .""''' '^°"«^'^ «"d after the cold crushing weTrtoTI^ ^** ""^"^ ^''"««. pressed her the day^fZflf despondency which had opl band's rage without tte 2 ttZ"^^ ^^ '""^ "* l'^ l"^" cious hopi-the W of nLfi T''*'"'* '*'«»<*• F°r a deU- entered'tto J^T fou^^S^^/^.^r '^^ '^^'^^ weU as in the outer world springtime there as b Jt;!!arsrte'^r£^-f -^j -^p w thic^ days of her daughter's SJ^^t ^T^ \"'°*" *« send for Mr. Trvan how =!,.> i/j *°'" bow she came to Sally Martin'sr^e'::i^inSf *"^ "'•^'^"•^ *^ Bue to see him, and tell hZi ■ "' "° irresistible de- " I see God's S<^1^„!*' T. '^^ ^' t^-bles. we should meet S^ay t'ove"^"' "^ ^'^^^^ '' "^ ^ him, and make me f eel tw'i. "'""" my prejudice against back to my mi^d fn £ Sth of""" T^'^'^ ""^ bn^t fooUshth^gsIuiedto^J^;^^7.^»ble. You know what bun .11 the while. And v^ he w!. f^* ^""""^ "*">^»8 °f me comfort and heln thi ^'J^^.tbe man who was to give wonderful how IfSM^rrSnT'"/'^^'^ "•«• ^^« to any one before; and W CL 1 J^k" ^ °*^" '^^« done ^beart and has'a newCLrffoTme iT v ^T^ *'''*™ '-use he has felt life more ^yZ. itXlXI fvM 830 BOmnffi OF OLBRICAL LIFE. ,lL; , deeper faith. I belieye eveiythiiig he says at onoe. His words oome to me like lain on the parched ground. It has always seemed to me before as if I oonld see behind people's words, as one sees behind a screen; but in Mr. Tryan it is his very soul that speaks." " Well, my dear ohUd, I love and bless him for your sake, if he has given you any comfort. I never believed the harm people said of him, though I had no desire to go and hear him, for I am contented with old-fashioned ways. I find more good teachings than I can practise in reading my Bible at home, and hearing Mr. Crewe at church. Bnt your wants are different, my dear, and we are not all led by the same road. That was certainly good advice of Mr. Tryan's yon told me of last night — that we should consult some one that may interfere for you with your husband; and I have been taming it over in my mind while I've been lying awake in the night. I think nobody will do so well as Mr. Benjamin Landor, for we must have a man that knows the law, and that Bobert is rather afraid of. And perhaps he could bring about an agreement for you to live apart. Your husband's bound to Tpnintaiin you, you know; and, if you liked, we could move away from Milby and live somewhere else." "Oh, mother, we must do nothing yet; I must think about it a little longer. I have a different f eeling'this morning from what I had yesterday. Something seems to tell me that I must go back to Bobert some time— after a little while. I loved him onoe better than all the world, and I have never had any children to love. There were things in me that were wrong, and I should like to make up for them if I can." " Well, my dear, I won't persuade you. Think of it a lit- tle longer. But something must be done soon." " How I wish I had my bonnet, and shawl, and black gown herel" said Janet, after a few minutes' silence. "I should like to go to Paddiford Church and hear Mr. Tryan. There would be no fear of my meeting Robert, for he never goes out on a Sunday morning." " I'm afraid it would not do for me to go to the house and EHeh yuur clothes," said Mrs. Baynor. " Oh no, DO I I must stay quietly here while you two go to «ir; i^iiii JANET'S BEPBNTAKOB. 831 ohuroh. I wiU b« Mrs. Pettifer'g maid. ^nA «>* *i, j- ^yforherbythethneshecoUK "S^^S woZ" CHAPTER XXI. The servants at DempsterV felt some surprise when the mornmg, noon, and erening ot Saturday hadT^d^d sSl their mistress did not reappear. ' her' next »Zw°f'"''"tf'S^' ^^ ''"'"""'"d, as she trimmed and sent for the missU afore we was up? •' ^ ^ . "^X ^i ^^' "« it had been that, she'd ha' been back'ard. and for'ards three or four times liZ LI ^ way^ she d ha' sent little Ann to let us know.'^ ' * There s sununat up more nor nsal between her an' th« master, that you may depend on," said S. "I w ttose clothes as was lying i' the drawing-ra4 yesteX SW. . "" ^^^ *^*'y'^"' ^'^ » *"»>i row about Kk 41"^' "^^ '""'^' ■"'' "^ "P ^« ---i -t to come "An' i' the right on't too," said Betty. "I'd ha' overrun rtSel^d tI" ^ °° ^"^^^ "°* '^ ^« '"o tl^* biggest tod 1 the land. It's poor work bein' a wife at that price- I'd r*.^' bs^J^'^n wi'out perkises, an' hev roast, JZi, L' Ss I^o";, T T^*^ ** °"™- ^^« "^y ^'U do as she »^. T. , ? «'"^ *'°°"8^ »' » drop o' summat myself "ip't'mXe- -'.^''''^ '»"' l"^*. to-night, I S "WW ^ '^ * ^^ saucepan an' warm it." " <«-,l^-f"!v/°f ^°" "^^ ^" """i"' yo" beer, Betty! I eoaldut abide it— nasty bitter stuff I " "It's fine talkin'i if you was a cook you'd know what be- r I: mwasimj^^.'LMk.JMmrvmi 382 SCENBS OF OLBRIOAL LIFE. longs to bein' a cook. It's none so nice to hev a ainkin' at yoar stomach, I can tell you. You wouldn't think so much o> fine ribbins i' your cap then." " Well, well, Betty, don't be grumpy. Liza ThomsoD, as is at Fhipps's, said to me last Sunday, ' I wonder you'll stay at Dempster's,' she says, ' such goin's-on as there is.' But I says, ' There's things to put up wi' in ivery place, an' you may change, an' change, an' not better yourself when all's said an' done.' LorsI why Liza told me herself as Mrs. Phipps was as skinny as skinny i' the kitchen, for all they keep so much company; and as for foUyers, she's as cross as a turkoy-cock if she finds 'em out. Th<""". " your master at home? " shoJ^'t'"b;bL\Xniff''^^ --^'' -' «^^ i>e tre^'^ounfedn*^;:;: r^i"« ?« """*«' -«> y°- -is- away from hom^ 1 7mTI^7 *° T '""' """"^ ^«' ^^B and bonnet. She i'slLXpro?-'"' '''*"^ ^" «°- mistress was s^e buwLn^M'*^^^ «'*•* *° ^""^ «>»' her that she was ^Slt frigCd sC'*'''"^ ^' '»^« *»" Mrs. Baynor in quest of^h» \ "^ ™~" toUowed by mother, on le^rLl ^^^ ^7° '^'^ •~'»'«'- The go^ <^oet^on,uZZf^f,r^!^4;^-'^ .«" home, h^ diford Church. ^ '^ "^^^^^ *"^ to go to Pad- "See, my dear." she s«d, as she entered Mrs. Pettifer's 884 BOimS OF CLBBIOAL UTE. parlor; "I've brought you your blaok olotbes. Bofaerf « not at home, and U not coming till this evening. I couldn't find your best blaok gown, but this will do. I wouldn't bring any- thing else, you know; but there can't be any objection to my fetching clothes to cover you. You can go to Faddilord Churoh now, if you like; and I will go with you." "That's a dear mother I Then we'll all three go together. Come and help me to get ready. Good little Mrs. Orewel It will vex her sadly that I should go to hear Mr. Tryan. But I must kiss her, and make it up with her." Many eyes were turned on Janet with a look of surprise as she walked up the aisle of Paddiford Church. She felt a lit- tle tremor at the notice she knew she was exciting, but it was a strong satisfaction to her that she had been able at once to take a step that would let her neighbors know her change of feeling toward Mr. Tryan : she had left herself now no room for proud reluctance or weak hesitation. The walk through the sweet spring air had stimulated all her fresh hopes, all her yearning desires after purity, strength, and peace. She thought she should find a new meaning in the prayers this morning; her full heart, like an overflowing river, wanted those ready-made channels to pour itself into; and then she should hear Mr. Tryan again, and his words would fall on her like precious balm, as they had done last night. There was a liquid brightness in her eyes as they rested on the mere walls, the pews, the weavers and coUiers in their Sunday clothes. The commonest things seemed to touch the spring of love within her, just as, when we are suddenly released from an acute absorbing bodily pain, our heart and senses leap out in new freedom; we think even the noise of streets harmonious, and are ready to hug the tradesman who is wrapping up our change. ^ door had been opened in Janet's cold dark prison of self-despair, and the golden light of morning was pouring in its slanting beams through the blessed opening. There was sunlight in the world; there was a divine love oaring for her; it had given her an earnest of good things ; it had been pre- paring comfort for her in the very moment when she had thought herself most forsaken. Mr. Tryan might well rejoice when his eye rested on her as 9 v, .-j^ <^ » ' JAKBT'S REPBNTAKOE. 336 ita yesterday'. lXr^„v?l^ ^k' """>"* ""nembering th.t that look mStret^"^' ""* "'"•""" "■« PO'^bi^ty Janet's appearance at church was jtreeted no^ ™,i u dermg eyes, but by kind hearts, and^Vth« ^ ''^ '"'"■ of Mr. Tryan'sheierswithWSm^h-K i?*^ "ernce sereral of late, contrived to ^m'unT^ w A"1 ^T °° '"'''' t"™" "Mother," said C lIC "drL^" ^'' '^ ""^ '"^'»- Mrs. Dempster. I-TsureT™., 1 Vl «° ""^ '?«"* to toward Mr Tryan I noti^p/? ^'"'f '^^^ '" ^^ ""^d sermon, andTh^s co^: wS mTsX^^'" "^^'''^'^ *» «"« ougMto go and give her a ^LlTl^fZ'.-"^ "'■ ""^ YouE;2'st;:Sr r"^'"''' '"""^'^ '^«'« «- ye^- with .er hnsbLir HotTvSlTr''"«r''«^«»'^^"«''i no grudge again' the nZtHn ^^""^ •* ^yH"^^' I've Yes, let us go an' sp«Sc to h^" "" "^ *"^ ^- 'T'^^- emotioL o'f CSSg h^"'rers^"':?\ "'"""^ "^^ ""» was suffering, too, ^m^th'r'aCn^T^l'r"''"'"- ^^« "rtimulus which she had nromfJ^S Ir ^ '""""^^'''t^^^d "gain. The poor ^gl?"^r» ^- T^"* °ot to touch own weaknesHI thT^Itim T T ' ""^ '^'^•'^ ^" the oncoming 'of throW m"sio^ »term.ttent insanity dreads ter prepared to see ir a^ri^l^! "^^ '^'t' '^ «'•' •»'■ let me have anything if Sfort" ^*~ '"°*^*'' •^°"'* In the mother's mind there vk. t»,. her it was mingled with Sj ^Ji^^r'^et'S' ".' " her present excited state of mind shoulHflt!^ *^*^*'^ '" il::i'i 888 sorarss of oubrioai. Lin. ^B^ new eagerneis for diCBoolt dntiM, that only made the loog- •addened sober mother tremble. But *e etrening approached, Janet's morning heroism all forsook her: her imagination, influenced by physical depres- sion as well as by mental habits, was haunted by the -vision of her husband's retnm home, and she began to shudder with the yesterday's dread. She heard him calling her, she saw him going to her mother's to look for her, she felt sure he would find her out, and burst in upon her. "Pray, pray, don't leave me, don't go to churoh," she said to Mrs. Pettifer. " You and mother both stay with me till Mr. Try an comes." At twenty minutes past six the church bells were ringing for the erening service, and soon the congregation was stream- ing along Orchard Street in the mellow sunset. The street opened toward the west. The red haU-simken sun shed a sol- emn splendor on the every-day houses, and crimsoned the windows of Dempster's projecting upper story. Suddenly a loud murmur arose and spread along the stream of ohuroh-goers, and one group after another {nused and looked backward. At the far end of the street, men, accom- panied by a miscellaneous group of onlookers, were slowly carrying something — a body stretched on a door. Slowly they passed along the middle of the street, lined all the way .witii awe-struck faces, till they turned aside and paused in the red sunlight before Dempster's door. It was Dempster's body. Ko one knew whether he was alive, or dead. CHAPTER XXn. It was probably a hard saying to the Pharisees, that " there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-and-nine just persons that need no repentance." And certain ingenious philosophers of our own day must surely take offence at a joy so entirely out of correspoudeuoe with arithmetical proportion. But a heart that has been taoght 1 JANET'S REPENTANOK. S87 »«■. TO learned pity through aufferinit "— i» lik«Iv tr. fln^ etatistics. w we a grouad of oomplaoency in Doubtlew a complacency resting on that basis is h\aM, rational! but emotion, I fear. U o^tinatriy in^H f"^ knows svmtlf h ^ '* V"^^ *° P"^" *^»* f°r tJ'e man who saviT^ IC^.!?^ ■'^T •"• ^"^ '"<"'» ""'"'w, that oM. old only tells him, that for angels too tl.ere is a transcendent vaJn« in human pain, which refuses to bp ,o-t!<^i """soenaent value tha ntriM nf .«~,i ^ "=^use» TO De SBitled by equations; that 888 SOUns OF OLIIUOAL UTt. erring muI wandering in the deeert where no water U; that for angels too the miiery of one caste so tiemaodoas a shadow as to eclipse the bliss of ninety-nine. Mr. Tryan had gone through the initiation of suffering : it is no wonder, then, that Janet's restoration was the work that lay nearest his heart; and that, weary as he was in body when he entered the vestry after the evening serrioe, he was impatient to fulfil the promise of seeing her. His experience enabled him to divine — what was the fact — that the hopeful- ness of the morning would be followed by a return of depres- sion and discouTagement; and his sense of the inward and outward difficulties in the way of her restoration was so keen, that he could only find relief from the foreboding it excited by lifting up his heart in prayer. There are unseen elements which often frustrate our wisest calculations — which raise up the sufferer from the edge of the grave, contradicting the prophecies of the clear-sighted physician, and fulfilling the blind clinging hopes of affection; such unseen elements Mr. Tryan called the Divine Will, and filled up the margin of ignorance which surrounds all our knowledge with the feelings of trust and resignation. Perhaps the profoundest philosophy could hardly fill it up better. His mind was occupied in this way as he was absently tak- ing off his gown, when Mr. Landor startled him by entering the vestry and asking abruptly — " Have you heard the news about Dempster? " "No," said Mr. Tryan, anxiously; "what is it?" " He has been thrown out of his gig in the Bridge Way, and he was taken up for dead. They were carrying him home as we were coming to church, and I stayed behind to see what I could do. I went in to speak to Mrs. Dempster, and prepare her a little, but she was not at home. Dempster is not dead, however; he was stunned with the fall. Pilgrim eame in a few minutes, and he says the right leg is broken in two places. It's likely to be a terrible case, with his state of body. It seems he was more drunk than usual, and they say he came along the Bridge Way flogging his horse like a madman, till at last it gave a sudden wheel, and he was pitched out. The servants said they didn't know where Mrs. Dempster was : she •f Jil 'AMET'B BKPBHTAKCK. ssg to M^ £^„r. 'tSn" '"l-H^" ^^ •«'^* <^ ^^ D-mpaterTouU b, Sprou ^li ^ ''' *''' "^^ " ^"■ citable «teteof ml^J^heiw bl ,U» eT'*"* *" ""' "" face, "I shaU take it .a a W tfySue? ™A "''f"*^ there's anything I can do for Mrs D^^"ti ' Ih T '^ T swallowed by the waves?" "« »ee a fellow-passenger 7 M |\ 'fl ^•9 ^Lijmmi:'^^^A _^ giam r SIfr 80KNS8 or OLmuoAX. un. " Yw; I iball Iuit* «q opportonity, I dar« m^, nd I will rememlMryoui wUh. I think," continued Mr. Tryan, taming to Mr. Landor, " I had better see Mr. Pilgrim on my way, and learn what ia esaotly the ttata of thingi by thii time. What do you think?" " By all means : if Mrs. Dempiter ii to know, there's no one can break the news to her so well as you. I'll walk with you to Dempster's door. I dare say Pilgrim is there still. Come, Mr. Jerome^ you've got to go our way too, to fetch your horse." Mr. Pilgrim was in the passage giving some directions to his assistant, when, to his surprise, he saw Mr. Tryan enter. They shook hands; for Mr. Pilgrim, never having joined the party of the Anti-Tryanites, had no ground for resisting the growing conviction, that the Evangelical curate was really a good fellow, though he was a fool for not taking better care of himself. " Why, I didn't expect to see you in your old enemy's quar- ters," be said to Mr. Tryau. " However, it will be a good while before poor Dempster shows any fight again." "I came on Mrs. Dempster's account," said Mr. Tryan. " She is staying at Mrs. Fettifer's; she has had a great shook from some severe domestic trouble lately, and I think it will be wise to defer telling her of this dreadful event for a short time." " Why, what has been up, eh? " said Mr. Pilgrim, whose curiosity was at ouce awakened. " She used to be no friend of yours. Has there been some split between them? It's a new thing for her to turn round on him." " Oh, merely an exaggeration of scenes that must often have happened before. But the question now ia, whether you think there ia any immediate danger of her huaband's death ; for in that case, I think, from what I have observed of her feelinga, she would be pained afterward to have been kept in ignorance." " Well, there's no telling in these casea, you know. I don't apprehend speedy death, and it is not absolutely impoaaible that we may bring him round again. At present he's in a state of apoplectic- stupor ; but if that subsides, delirium is almost sure to supervene, and we shall have some painful JAMIT'S mPBlfTAWOB. nouMBt present She oould do no good, you know. I've got io"^t' ^^:^:.^ ^'- ^'^- "^^' " "'-t I want^i When Mr.. Pottifer opened the door for Mr. Trvu, he told zLL^e'rrir ".: 5 -r- --- "^^^^^^^ any bad new.; she's ve^r low this evening-worn out with When Mr. Tryan entered the parlor thU time, J^et wa. uTwT.'str'" r "'^' ""* ^' ^^ '^ '- w'riShZ up witn a smile as she rose to maat him h„<. *i. : ment she said, with a look of l^t^- °"' "'°" «„'w7 n'i?"' ""l*^kl You have been working so hard aU day, and yet you are oome to talk to me Oh you are wearing yourself out. I must go and ask M™ Petti' fer to oome and make you have some supper But^ fs ^v mo^er, you have not seen her before, iTink.'- ^ While Mr. Tryan was speaking to Mrs. Bavnor Tanat h„, r V "irt'"'' ""••"« """ tl^ Kcod.n.tu^'^hough^^el Sei^ff,™.?-^*^ '" ,' '^ '''" »«'«P*«t ■ • . prove that I was tampered wUh prove that I took the money . . prove it T^ " " " nothing you damnedWsrgLTmaggotsT ra CL' I I^Bweep you up . . I U grind you to poVSer . ^ ^mali powder . . (here his voice dropped to a low tonB nf •i,„T s,-comertik°:them *s"""rL?orTd ■/ you come? Janet!" ^ " ' " '^"^"^' why don't Poor Janet was kneeling by the bed with her face buried Lfn Jr'^K «\«. «>•"<«* ''i^hed tor worst mornr^k again rather than this. It seemed as if her husband was il mdy imprisoned in misery, and she could not re^him-hls ^ deaf forever to the sounds of love and forriveneas ml ruid^ot-p^i-r """^"-^ ''' -'' '^ef^SvS "Not there, isn't die?" he went on in a defiant tone. m IS f^: 846 BOICNBS OF OLERIOAL LIFB. m l':1.i " Why do you ask me where she is7 I'll have every drop of yellow blood out of your veins if you oome qoeatioiung me. Your blood is yellow ... in your purse . . . running out of your purse . . . Whatl you're changing it into toads, are you? They're crawling . . . they're flying . . they're flying about my head . . . the toads are flying about. Ostler I ostler t bring out my gig . . . bring it out, you lazy beast ... hat you'll follow me, will yon? . . . you'll fly about my head . . . you're got fiery tongues . . . Ostler t curse you! why don't ycu oome? Janett come and take the toads away . . . Janet I " H'lm last time he uttered her name with such a shriek of terror, that Janet inToluutarily started up from her knees, and stood as if ..petrified by the horrible vibration. Dempster stared wildly in silence for some moments; then he spoke again in a hoarse whisper — " Dead ... is she dead? She did it, then. She buried herself in the iron chest . . . she left her clothes out, though . . . she isn't dead . . . why do you pretend she's dead? . . . she's coming . . . she's coming out of the iron closet . . . there are the black serpents . . . stop her ... let me go . . . stop her . . . she wants to drag me away into the cold black water . . . her bosom is black . . . it is all ser- pents . . . they are getting longer . . . the great white ser- pents are getting longer ..." Here Mr. PUgrim came forward with the apparatus to bind him, but Dempster's struggles became more and more violent. " Ostler 1 ostler I" he shouted, " bring out the gig . . . give me the whipt" — and bursting loose from the strong hands that held him, he began to flog the bed-clothes furiously with his right arm. "Get along, you lame brute t — sc— sc — set that's itt there you go! They think they've outwitted me, do they? The sneaking idiots t I'll l>e up with them by and by. I'll make them say the Lord's Prayer backward . . . I'll pepper them so that the devil shall eat them raw . . . sc — sc — so — we shall see who'll be the winner yet . . . get along, you damned limping beast . . . I'll lay your back open . . . I'll ..." He raised himself with a stronger eSort than ever to flog JAMBT'B RBPENTANCa!. 347 the bed-ol• ^^^ f""" no place, the long bitter vea« ^7--^ ??i«»'<'»ge could find her ever-living rememTrLCTf^r.'^l*^''" '""«"'«'"' '«»" went before, l.d the X^g^ ttat^/'ri''"'"'^''^'' ""»* put her hand to hi, lip, a^^ and r.t« ^'^T^ ""^^ «'«' Mt on the grass together.^d'he ll^ *^ "^"y" ''''"' "'V black hair, and oX her Wa ^iJ '^^•'* P°PP'«8 »" W tide of Wing oblivi^ oyj^. ^L'^TV'^'^ *° »»d • had traversed since. T^r^ATtf. '*'''' "^"^ ^^ upon her would be with h,r^^ ? *^*'^»<' already shone tinually for helpr^ Tr^^ t.T^ '"^ "P ^«' »"• ^ It she felt herself failW^^^' 1,^'"'"^' ""^^ P^^ f<" her. if her feet began to sljf 'the„ ::^' "°^^'' "' ^ !>!«« once, to- Oh, she could nevM be Sal^ 1, \ "^^^ '" ^«' t" "'W vault of sin and despair arainr^ ^?*'°*° *^''* '^''^ «'*»? »he h.d tarted the aUXe 'air ^f'^'f '^^ °'°"'^8 <^, •nbmission. * "" "* *^t and penitence and ^"i^^^-rbSrhtsi^trd Stf "-'^^ -"" « she poured out to Mr. TrZ wh™ 1.!^ hese were the hopes ^ BO evident that they w^?t^^* ""^^^^o ^e- her- It »truggle-they shed such rgkwWr"'!^*^ '° J*"' "ew feoe «, ri.e spoke of themlftal^ t™ ^T"" »"«' ^« threw on them the chill of nrelTL ^/"f"*^"* "°* bear to vjousconversation he had h^"^t?'i^'5^^°»'^*«. though a pre- hna that there was not tteXlt ^flu^u^"" ''"d convinced rfoverr. Poor Janet Tid ^ l^ow f£ '^•"^.°* Dempster's changing symptoms, and whra^w.'^^ "gnificanoe of the delirium began to ose some^/^'l^," '"P*' °f " ''«*, the H'Pted by longer and lonZ inte^«, f "'' '^^ "^ ^ ^''^^■ thUA that these mightT^°*7„*^°' '^^'' «^« *^^^ *» ahe staiuk from qu^onkfj^ py^ JT to recovery, and finn the fears that began to «t l^- '*** ^' "■"""^'^ ™"- i'tn.r JA»™ pa? h^nrughTn tt Si about noon, ^^^n^^^^.r^^^^y:^^ - u^? '' seems most sickening—he Jl m4 350 80S1IXS or OLIRIOAL LDX led her from her hoiband'i chamber into the oppoeite drawing- room, where Mrs. Baynor was sitting, and said to her, in that low tone of sympathetic feeling which sometimes gave a Bufl den air of gentleness to this rough man — " My dear Mrs. Dempster, it is right in these oases, you know, to be prepared for the worst. I think I shall be saving you pain by preventing you from entertaining any false hopes, and Mr. Dempster's state is now such that I fear we must consider recovery impossible. The affection of the brain might not have been hopeless, but, you see, there is a terrible complication; and I am grieved to say the broken limb is mortifying." Janet lisitened with a sinking heart. That future of love and forgiveness would never come, then : he was going out of her sight forever, where her pity could never reach him. She turned cold, and trembled. "But do you think he will die," she said, "without ever coming to himself 7 without ever knowing me? " " One cannot say that with certainty. It is not impossible that the cerebral oppression may subside, and that he may become conscious. If there is anything you would wUh to be said or done in that case, it w >uld be well to be prepared. I should think," Mr. Pilgrim continued, turning to Mrs. Baynor, "Mr. Dempster's affairs are likely to be in order— his will U . . . " "Oh, I woulua t have him troubled about those things," interrupted Janet, "he has no relations but quite distant ones —no one but me. I wouldn't take up the time with that I only want to . . ." She was unable to finish; she felt her sobs nsmg, and left the room. "0 God," she said, inwardly, "U not Thy love greater than mine? Have mercy on him! have mercy on him!" This happened on Wednesday, ten days after the fatal ac- cident. By the following Sunday, Dempster was in a state of rapidly increasing prostration; and when Mr. Pilgrim, who, in turn with his assistant, had slept in the house from the beginning, came in, about half-past ten, as usual, he soaroely beUeved that the feebly struggling life would last out till JASBT'S RXPBNTANOB. SM ^rJu'; ?'*?'• !«*'•'' d«y ke lii«l been «lininirt«ing S^ riT *^' «'»"•«<»' 'Wch had succeeded thS ^tTl of deUrmm and stupor. This .light office wa.^! ^U M^P?*^ *° •^ '^°" '°'*^«' ?»«"**! «..t eleven the nurse, and desired her to call him if any change took place, or if Mrs. Dempster desired his pre«mce Janet could not be persuaded to leave the room. She was yearnmg j^d watching for a moment in which her husbln^" r si:tad^rUrhr."^ "^° '""• -^^ '- '»"'•» ^- How changed he was since that terrible Monday, nearly a fortnight agol He lay motionless, but for the i^S.^ breaUung that stirred his broad ohest and thick muscul^n^" Hi. features were no longer purple and swoUen; they were ™ ;hT "'.'^'^ ^"^^^^ ^ "•'•* Per.piration st<;od in bead, on the prohiberant forehead, and on the w«,ted hand, ^hed motionless on the bed-clothes. It was better to »« SL a wt^kg^ convulsively picking the air, a. they had JmVll °° ^\^l!^°^ *!"» ^ through the long hours of oandle-hght, watchmg the unconscious half-closed eyes, win- mg the perspiration from the brow and cheeks, and k^piwr her left hand on the cold uuanswering right hand that Uv be- side her on the bed-clothes. She wa. liost as p^e « her dying tusban^ and there were dark lines under hreyes, for tibi. was the thud night since she had taken oil her cloUie^I but the eager straining gaze of her dark eyes, and the acut^ sensibility that lay in every line about her mouth, mj^^ strange contract with the blank unconsciousness and emaciated animalism of the face she was watching. """■wwa There was profound stillness in the house. She heard no ^und but her husband's breathing and the tickLgTtSe watch on Uie mantelpiece. The candle, placed high up, shed a soft hgh down on the one object she cared to see. There wa. a smell of brandy in the room; it was given to her bus! band from time to tame; but this smell, which at first had ptuduced m hei- a faint shuddering sensation, was now becom- mg indifferent to her: she did not even perceive it; shTZ i r aa Bciim or CUBICAL Lin. too nnoonMiooa of herialf to feel either tempt»ttoiu or tarn- Mttloni. 8he only felt that the husbud of her youth wm dying; f»r, far out of her reaob, a« if ehe were itanding help- lee* on the ehore, while he was linking in the black itorm- wave*; she only yearned for one moment in whioh ihe might ■atisfy the deep f orgiring pity of her ionl by one look of love, one word of tendemeei. Her eensations and thoughts were io pereistent that she could not measure the hours, and it was a surprise to her when the nurse put out the candle, and let in the faint morning light. Mrs. Baynor, anxious about Janet, was already up, and now brought in some fresh coffee for herj and Mr. Pilgrim having awdted, had hurried on his clothes, and was come in to see how Dempster was. This change from candle-light to morning, this recommence- ment of the same round of things that had happened yester- day, was a discouragement rather than a relief to Janet. She was more conscious of her chill weariness; the new light thrown on her husband's face seemed to reveal the stUl work that death had been doing through the night; she felt her last lingering hope that he would ever know her again forsake her. But now, Mr. Pilgrim, having felt the pulse, was putting some brandy in a teaspoon between Dempster's lips; the brandy went down, and his breathing became freer. Janet noticed the change, and her heart beat faster as she leaned forward to watch him. Suddenly a slight movement, like the passing away of a shadow, was visible in his face, and he opened his eyes full on Janet. It was almost like meeting hiin again on the resurrection morning, after the night of the grave. " Robert, do you know me? " He kept his eyes fixed on her, and there was a faintly per- ceptible motion of the lips, as if he wanted to speak. But the moment of speech was forever gone— the moment for asking pardon of her, if he wanted to ask it. Could he read the full forgiveness that was written in her eyes? She never knew; for, as she was bending to kiss him, the thick veil of death fell between them, and her lips touched a corpse. ■m i^wm ■ • JAMIT'8 RBPBIITAirOB. 868 CHAPTEB XXV. Tm face, looked very hard and unmoyed that faneandad Dempater's grave, whUe old Mr. Crewe read the burial-serrioa in hi» low, broken yoioe. The pall-bearer, were auoh men a. ^1' l'f^'}^l: ^f^"' "^ ^- Budd-men whom Demp- ster had called hw friend, while he wa. in life; and worldly face, never look bo worldly a. at a funeral. They have the «me effect of grating incongruity aa the Mund of a ooar«> voice breaking the solemn aUence of night. The ope face that had sorrow in it was covered by a thick orape-veU, and the sorrow waa suppressed and silent. No one itnew how deep it was; for the thought in most of her neiah- bors minds was, that Mrs. Demprter could hardly have ^ better fortune than to low a bad husband who had left her the compenwtion of a good income. They found it difficult to conceive that her hmiband's death could be felt by her other- wise than as a deUverunoe. The perwn who was most thor- ough^ convinced that Janet's grief wa. deep and r«J, wa. rf: .}^: ^^° ■" general wa. not at aU weakly given to a belief m diimterested feeling. "That woman ha. a tender heart," he was freqnently heard to observe in hu morning round, about thi. time. " I uwd to think there wa. a great deal of palaver in her, but you mar depend upon it there's no pretence about hr . If he'd been tlie kindest husband in the world die couldn t have felt more. olZd » ^*'* of good in Mr.. Dempster-a great deal "/always «ud so," was Mrs. Lowme's reply, when he made the oteervation to her; " she was always so very full of pretty attentaons to me when I was ill. But they tell me now rfie'. turned Tryanite; if that', it we sha'n't agree again. It', rery inconsistent in her, I think, turning round in that way, after being the foremost to laugh at the Tryanite cant, and 01 them before she pretends to be over-religiou.." "Well, I think die mean, to cure herwlf, do you know," ill ^a.^^^Mms.^ K ^um^'ikmMjrmm.m F S54 BOimS or OLIRIOAL Lin. Mid Mr. Pilgrim, whcM good-will toward Jurt wai Jnit now quite abore that temperate point at whiob he could indulge hit feminine patienta with a little judioioui detraction. " I feel sure she han not taken any stimulants all through her hniband's illness ; and she has been constantly in the way of them. I can see she sometimes suffers a good deal of depres- sion for want of them — it shows all the more resolution in her. Those cures are rare; but I've known them happen sometimes with people of strong will." Mrs. Lowme took an opportunity of retailing Mr. Pilgrim's oonversation to Mrs. Phipps, who, as a victim of Pratt and plethora, could rarely enjoy that pleasure at first-hand. Mrs. Phipps wa« a woman of decided opinions, though of wheezy utterance. "For my part," she remarked, "I'm glad to hear there's any likelihood of improvement in Mrs. Dempster, but I think the way things have turned out seems to show that she was more to blame than people thought she was; else, why should she feel so much about her husband? And Dempster, I under- stand, has left his wife pretty nearly all his property to do as she likes with; that isn't behaving like such a very bad hus- band. I don't believe Mrs. Dempster can have had so much provocation as they pretended. I've known husbands who've laid plans for tormenting their wives when they're under- ground — tying up their money and hindering them from mar- rying again. Not that / should ever wish to marry again ; I think one husband in one's life is enough in all conscience " ; — here she threw a fiery glance at the amiable Mr. Phipps, who was innocently delighting himseU with ikefaeetim in the Botherby Guardian, and thinking the editor must be a droll fellow — "but it's aggravating to be tied up in that way. Why, they say Mrs. Dempster will have as good as six hun- dred a year at least. A fine thing for her, that was a poor girl without a farthing to her fortune. It's well if she doesn't make ducks and drakes of it somehow." Mrs. Phipps's view of Janet, however, was far from being the prevalent one in Milby. Even neighbors who had no strong personal interest in her, could hardly see the noble- looking woman in her widow's dress, with a sad sweet gravity JAMIT'B RKPmfTANCE. SM in her face, and not b« touched with frenh MlmiiBtion for her —and not feel, at leait vaguely, that she had entered on a new hfo in which it was a sort of desecration to allude to the painftU part. An'' . old friend* who had a real regard for her, but whose ch . I.yy had b««n repeUed or ohUled of late ywins now car. ■ r, • 1 i,. , ■■; hearty demonstrations of affection M^. i..vu.. f ' ..a. >• happiness had a substan- tial addition ;>;w h>- c«uM ouoe a. caU on that "nice litUe woman Mr. 'Mn^rt-t," 4 j IIkhk of her with rejoicing in- stead of SOI , ,.w. To, i-n V. ;.>,t no time in returning to the footing of <,:aee..Hi 1 fiieudsMp with Janet and her mother, and .m;-,f ■■■■>, , Mi ,t inoumbent on her, on all suit- able occasions, to deli.,. r a y mphatio approval of the re- markable strength ..; ■. d sh, understood Mrs. Dempster to be exhibiting. The Miss Linnets were eager to meet Mr Tiyan s wishes by greeting Janet as one who was likely to be a sister in religious feeling and good works; and Mrs. Linnet was so agreeably surprised by the fact that Dempster had left his wife the money "in that handsome way, to do what she hked with iti" that she even included Dempster himself, and hu villanous discovery of the flaw in her tiUe to Pye's Croft, m her magnanimous oblivion of past offences. She and Mrs Jerome agreed over a friendly cup of tea that there were "a many husbands as was very line spoken an' all that, an' yet all the while kep' a will locked up from you, as tied vou up as tight as anything. I assure you," Mrs. Jerome continued dropping her voice in a confidential manner, "I know do mrae to this day about Mr. Jerome's will, nor the child as is unborn. I've no fears about a inoome-I'm well aware Mr Jerome ud niver leave me stret for that; but I should like to hev a thousand or two at my own disposial; it makes a widow a deal more looked on." Perhaps this ground of respect to widows might not be en- tirely without its influence on the Milby mind, and might do something toward oonoUiating those more aristocratic acquaint- ances of Janet's, who would otherwise have been inclined to toke the severest view of her apostasy toward EvsnireHcalism Jirrors look so very ugly in persons of small meanslone feels they are taking quite a Uberty in going astray, whereas peo- i " 306 SCBNBS OF OLBRICAL LITS. &M' pie of fortune may naturally indulge in a few delinqneuciei. "They've got the money for it," as the girl said of hei mis- tress who had made herself ill with pickled salmon. How- ever it may have been, there was not an acquaintance of Jv net'g, in Milby, that did not offer her ciyilities in the early days of her widowhood. Even the severe Mrs. Fhipps was not an exception; for heaven knows what would become of our sociality if we never visited people we speak ill of : we should live, like Egyptian hermits, in crowded solitude. Perhaps the attentions most grateful to Janet were those of her old friend Mrs. Crewe, whose attachment to her favorite proved quit© too strong for any resentment she might be sup- posed to feel on the score of Mr. Tryan. The little deaf old lady oouldnH do without her accustomed visitor, whom she had seen grow up from child to woman, always so willing to chat with her and tell her all the news, though she was deaf; while other people thought it tiresome to shout in her ear, and irritated her by recommending ear-trumpets of various oonstruotion. All this friendliness was very precious to Janet. She was conscious of the aid it gave her in the self-conquest which was the blessing she prayed for with every fresh morning. The ch.ef strength of her nature lay in her affection, which colored all the rest of her mind: it gave a personal sisterly tenderness to her acts of benevolence; it made her cling with tenacity to every object that had once stirred her kindly emotions. Alas I it was unsatisfied, wounded affection that had made her trouble greater than she could bear. And now there was no check to the full flow of that plenteous current in her nature —no gnaw- ing secret anguish — no overhanging terror — no inward shame. Friendly faces beamed on her; she felt that friendly hearts were approving her, and wishing her well, and that mild sun- shine of good-will fell beneficently on her new hopes and efforts, as the clear shining after rain falls on the tender leaf- buds of spring, and wins them from promise to fulfilment. And she needed these secondary helps, for her wrestling with her past self was not always easy. The strong emotions from which the life of a human being receives a new bias, win their victory as the sea wins bis: though their advanoe may i«'r' .%& JANIT'S RBPENTaHOB. ^^^'^^^^^^^TZ ""• Tl ^' m«l.. Janet showed the Bto.nriTt oJ hr""n I^*^ ^ every outward precaution a^rt thTl! ""^ "^ '"^^K tion. Her moiher was n^^^J^ - ."™°'* "* " '^"'P*"- Bhut up her liturdl"u2 ^H '^* companion, ha^„g Street; and Jan^^^ve.Sri"""^'*' "'•»'^« ^ 0«^«rd eatreatingher tolo^Lm at^yTZ. '^'' ^*",^" '^«'P^«' ever the too weU-knnIr, ,1 ^^ ™°*'^™*P'~'e- When- her. she ^rL^T^^'tZ.TLr^' '""^T^^ purest enjoyment-in visifaW ^. fv * "''"y* "^^ her carrying soL food or 1^5": H^LT' T^"'""^ '" her smile some of the famiW rfL??" ^ m cheering with lanes. But the gn»t soZ.^ dwellmgs up the dingy baok «iverance, was thT^„~"^ °' ""Tf'' «>« 8^eat help to per- Mr. Tryi, • she oouW „!»* t ^"^ " ^"«"^ •"d teachefiu knewhTprayS Jw.^Td"^ """r*^** *° 1^"" "hS pect of scin s^g hTr'arl h«H '^^^^l^^'"^ ^er the pros- oomfort, that cam! to W iLl^°irl7'.'<^°-'»- and as She had never found in htTwI^ Lt^ ^'^ """^ were seated peacefuTat £S Jt K 'h ""^ ••"' "'°"'" ing through the opei wind^wa? Z M ^!°«""~'°' '°°^- where the grass-pU wj nt ^h te^Ltt^^'^rt,*""'*"' a le^ was brought in for M« S^nS Wl-Wo«oms, »^ust"L^t;r;ot^2r^rr-T''^-«^^- -^^ Idaresay. Poor tiingu JT^ ^ "^^^^'^l'^ off at last, go, my dear-she's your t^r'^^l^^^J ™'^^- ^ .°""t Bororto leave you. HWev^ nl K r*t'-though I am 3tay more than a night or'Z"^^ ^ '^^ ""' '"'^« t" Janet looked distressed as she said. "v« mother. But I don't know what Hhln J^ 1°" """' «°* think I shaU run in to ^ IZ^tl "^ do without you. I Btay with me whUe you W^y /C'' "V*' *f, «»""' -^d At t»Blv» r • 1 >: X ^' ^ ™ ""re she will " A, twelve o dooi. j^et, having seen her mother i„ the 868 SCENES OF CUiRIOAL LIFR. coaoh that was to oany her to Thurston, called, on her way back, at Mrs. Pettifei's, but found, to her great disappoint- ment, that her old friend was gone out for the day. 80 she wrote on a leaf of her pocket-book an urgent request that Mrs. Pettifer would come and stay with her while her mother was away; and, desiring the eervant-girl to giye it to her mistress as soon as she came home, walked on to the Vicarage to sit with Mrs. Crewe, thinking to relieve in this way the feeling of desolateness and undefined fear that was taking possession of her on being left alone for the first time since that great crisis in her life. And Mrs. Crewe, too, was not at hornet Janet, witi a sense of discouragement for which she re- buked herself as childish, walked sadly home again ; and when she entered the vacant dining-room, she could not help burst- ing into tears. It is such vague undefinable states of ».^oep- tibility as this— states of excitement or depression, half men- tal, half physical— that determine many a tragedy in women's lives. Janet could scarcely eat anything at her solitary din- ner; she tried to fix her attention on a book in vain; she walked about the garden, and felt the very sunshine melan- choly. Between four and five o'clock, old Mr. Pittman called, and joined her in the garden, where she had been sitting for some time under one of the great apple-trees, thinking how Robert, in his best moods, used to take little Mamsey to look at the cucumbers, or to see the Aldemey cow with its calf in the paddock. The tears and sobs had come again at these thoughts ; and when Mr. Pittman approached her, she was feeling languid and exhausted. But the old gentleman's sight and sensibility were obtuse, and, to Janet's satisfaction, he showed no consciousness that she was in grief. "I have a task to impose upon you, Mrs. Dempster," he said, with a certain toothless pomposity habitual to him : " I want you to look over those letters again in Dempster's bureau, and see if you can find one from Poole about the mortgage on those houses at Dingley. It will be worth twenty pounds, if you can find it; and I don't know where it can be, if it isn't tunong those letters in the bureau. I've looked everywhere at the office for it. I'm going home now, but I'll call again JANET'S BBPKNTANCE. 359 Janet «ud she wonld look di«otly, and turned with Mr. timf ^ i!^^\ ""*'• . ®"* '^^ "•*«"' '°»'<1 *^o her some reau which stood m a small b«* room, where Dempster used sometimes to write letters and receive people who came^n ^ntTT.'l"*^' '^'^ '"°""- ^^"^ '•'"I looked through the con tt« 1 f K ^^""?f '"°'" **" """"i ''"'^ t^-doy- on removing stw ^hi^K'^'K 1 '"*'*" '""° ""^ "' *''« co'npartments, hf mnl f„ .f * 'I'"* "T '""° '^^°"'' " ^""^ °''* i° tl'e wood, made in the shape of a thumb-nail, evidently intended aTa meaas of pushing aside the movable back of the compTrtm't In her exammation hitherto she had not fomid such Tletteras ^L^^. ^t^ described-perhaps there mi^ht be more letters behind this slide. She pushed it back at cnce, and saw-no letter,, but a small spirit-decanter, half full of pale brandy, Dempster's habitual drink. ^ it ^ZIT^"^ "*""'? '^°°^ '''^"^ **^"K'' ''l ber members: tZ^.^.^T" ^""''^ ^^ inevitable force of strong fmnes that flood our senses before we are aware. Her hand was on the decanter; pale and excited, she was lifting it out of te niche, when, with a start and a shudder, she dLhed it li^' T?^ ?" "'.' "^ "^ ^l*^ "^^ ^^ odo' of the r f .K "* ''*'^^8*° '^"* "P «•« *•»"«"". "be rushed out of the room, snatched up her bonnet and mantle which lay in the dming-room, and hurried out of the house. th,Yw '^""^^ fv «°' ^ "*'»* P^ """Id this demon that had re-entered her be eoared back again? She walked rapidly along the street in the direction of the church She was soon at the gate of the churchyard; she passed through it, ^If "k 1*' ''"y/o'os, the graves to a spot she knew-, spot where the turf had been stirred not long before, where a tomb was to be erected soon. It was very near the church wall on the side which now lay in deep shadow, quite shut ou^from the rays of the westering .un by a projecting but- n,"rr*f** ^"'^ "° ^^'' e™°"'5- It was a sombre spot. A thick hedge, surmounted by elm-trees, was in front of her- a 360 SOXMXS OF CUBICAL LIFB. '■■ k projectiiig bnttress on each side. But she wanted to shut out even these objects. Her thick crape veil was down ; but she closed her eyes behind it, and pressed her hands upon them. She wanted to summon up the vision of the past; she wanted to lash the demon out of her soul with the stinging memories o^ the bygone misery ; she wanted to renew the old horror and the old anguish, that she might throw herself with the more desperate clinging energy at the foot of the cross, where the Divine Sufferer would impart divine strength. She tried to recall those first bitter moments of shame, which were like the shuddering discovery of the leper that the dire taint is upon him ; the deeper and deeper lapse ; the on-coming of settled despair; the awful moments by the bedside of her self -mad- dened husband. And then she tried to live through, with a remembrance made more vivid by that contrast, the blessed hours of hope and joy and peace that had come to her of late, since her whole soul had been bent toward the attainment of purity and holiness. But now, when the paroxysm of temptation was past, dread and despondency began to thrust themselves, like cold heavy mists, between her and the heaven to which she wanted to look for light and guidance. The temptatitm would come again — that rush of desire might overmaster her the next time — she would slip back again into that deep slimy pit from which she had onoe been rescued, and thoe might be no de- liverance for her more. Her prayers did not help her, for fear predominated over trust; she had no confidence that the aid die sought would be given ; the idea of her future fall had grasped her mind too strongly. Alone, in this way, she was powerless. If she could see Mr. Tryan, if she could confess all to him, she might gather hope again. She must see him; she must go to him. Janet rose from the ground, and walked away with a quick resolved step. She had been seated there a longVhile, and the sun had already sunk. It was late for her to walk to Pad- diford and go to Mr. Tryan's, where she had never called be- fore ; but there was no other way of seeing him that evening, Allli alttt CUUiu uul ilBUliai6 uuOUt il. £5it6 Wai£du uuW&Iu M footpath through the fields, which would take her to Faddi- '* *f J^AKET'B RKPBirrAKOB. 361 ford without obliging her to go through the town. The way was rather long, but she preferred it, because it left leas prob- ability cf her meeting acquaintances, and she shrank from having to speak to any one. The evening red had nearly faded by the time Janet knocked at Mrs. WagstafPs door. The good woman looked surprised to see her at that hour ; but Janet's mourning weeds and the painful agitation of her face quickly brought the second thought, that some urgent trouble had sent her there. " Mr. Tryan' s just come in, " she said. " If you'U step into the parlor, I'll go up and tell him you're here. He seemed very tired and poorly." At another time Janet would have felt distress at the idea that she was disturbing Mr. Tryan when he required rest ; but now her need was too great for that: she could feel nothing but a sense of coming relief, when she heard his step on the stair and saw him enter the room. He went toward her with a look of anxiety, and said, " I fear something is the matter. I fear you are in trouble." Then poor Janet poured forth her sad tale of temptation and despondency; and even while she was confessing she felt half her burthen removed. The act of confiding in human sym- pathy, the consciousneaa that a fellow-being was listening to her wiUi patient pity, prepared her soul for that stronger leap by which faith grasps the idea of the Divine sympathy. When Mr. Tryan spoke words of consolation and encourage- ment, she could now believe the message of mercy ; the water- floods that had threatened to overwhelm her rolled back again, and life once more spread its heaven-covered space before her. She had been unable to pray alone; but now his prayer bore her own soul along with it, as the broad tongue of flame car- ries upward in its vigorous leap the little flickering fire that could hardly keep alight by itself. But Mr. Tiyan was anxious that Janet should not linger out at this lato hour. When he saw that she was calmed, he said : " I will walk home with you now; we can talk on the way." But Janet's mind was new sufficiently at liberty for her to notice the signs oi luverish weariness in his appearance, and she would not hear of causing him any further fatigue. i . i if fl |! « 863 B0BMX8 OF OliBBICAL UFX. " No, no, " »he said, eamMUy, " you will pain me very much indeed yon will, by going out again to-night oa my aooount. There is no real reaaon why I should not go alone." And when he pergiated, fearing that for her to be gaan out so late alone might excite remark, she said imploringly, with a half sob in her voice : " What should I — what would others like me do, if you went from us? Why wiU you not think more of that, and take care of yourself? " He had often had that appeal made to him before, but to-night —from Janet's lips — it seemed to hare a new force for him, and he gave way. At first, indeed, he only did so on condition that she woujid let Mrs. Wagstaff go with her; but Janet had determined to walk home alone. She preferred solitude ; she wished not to have her present feelings distracted by any con- versation. So she went out into the dewy starUght; and as Mi. Tryan turned away from her, he felt a stronger wish than ever that his fragile life might last out for him to see Janet's restoration thoroughly established — to see her no longer fleeing, strug- gling, clinging up the cteep sides of a precipice whence she might be any moment hurled back into the depths of de- spair, but walking firmly on the level ground of habit. He inwardly resolved thai nothing but a peremptory duty should ever take him from Milby — that he would not cease to watch over her until life foiiaok him. Janet walked on quickly till she turned into the fields; then she slackened her pace a little, enjoying tiie sense of solitude which a fev hours before had been intolerable to her. The Divine Prasenoe did not now seem far off, where she bad not wings to reach it; pnyer itself seemed superfluous in those moments of calm trust. The temptation which had so lately made her shudder before the possibilities of the future, was now a source of confidence ; for had she not been delivered from it? Had not rescue come in the extremity of danger? Yes ; Infinite Love was oaring for her. She felt like a little child whose hand is firmly grasped by its father, as its frail limbs make their way over the rough ground; if it should stumble, the father will not let it go. That walk in the dewy starlight remained forever in Janef s JANIT'S REFENTAMCX. asa memory u one of thoee baptiunal epoch*, when the soul, dipped in the sacred waters of joy and peace, rises from them with new energies, with more unalterable longings. When she reached home she found Mrs. Pettifer there, anx- ious for her ret»m. After thanking her for coming, Janet only said, "I have been to Mr. Tryan's; I wanted to speak to him " ; and then remembering how she had left the bureau and papers, she went into the back room, where, apparently, no one had been since she quitted it; for there lay the frag- ments of glass, and the room was still full of the hateful odor. How feeble and miserable the temptation seemed to h«r at this moment I She rang for Kitty to come and pick up the fragments and rub the floor, while she herself replaced the papers and lookea up the bureau. The next morning when seated at breakfast with Mrs. Pet- tifer, Janet said — " What a dreary, unhealthy-looking place that is where Mr. Try an livee! I'm sure it must be very bad for him to live there. Do you know, all this morning, since I've been awake, I've been turning over a little plan in my mind. I think it a oharmisg one— aJl the more, because you are concerned in it." " Why, what can that be? " " You know that house on the Bedhill road they call Hollv Mount; it is shut up now. That is Robert's house; at least^ it is mine now, and it stands on one of the healthiest spots about here. Now, I've been settling in my own mind, that if a dear good woman of my acquaintance, who knows how to make a home as comfortable and oosey as a bird's nest, were to take up her abode there, and have Mr. Tryan as a lodger, she would be doing one of the most useful deeds in all her use- ful Ufe." '• You've such a way of wrapping up things in pretty words. You must speak plainer." " In plain words, then, I should like to settle you at Holly Mount. You would not have to pay any more rent than whore you are, and it would be twenty times pleasanter for you than living uD that naaancrp wharp. vn WW Mr. Tijran paating ptle and worn along the (traet, had a MOMt MBM that thU man was somahow not that very natural and oomprehentibU thing, a humbug— that, in tact, it was impouible to explain him from the etomaoh-and-poohet point of view. Twiat and stretch their theory as they might, it would not fit Mr. Tryan; and so, with that remarkable re- semblance as to mental processes which may frequently be ob- served to exist between plain men and philosophers, they con- cluded that the less they said about him the better. Among all Janet's neighborly pleasures, there was nothing she liked better than to take an early tea at the White* House, and to stroU with Mr. Jerome round the old-fashioned gar- den and orchard. There was endless matter for talk between her and the good old man, for Janet had that genuine delight in human fellowship which gives an interest to all personal details that come warm from truthful lipsj and, besides, they had a common interest in good-natured plans for helping their poorer neighbors. One great object of Mr. Jerome's charities was, as he often said, " to keep industrious men an' women oft the parish. I'd rether give ten shillin' an' help a man to Stan' on his own legs, nor pay half-a-crown to buy him a parish crutch j it's the ruination on him if he once goes to the parish. I've see'd many a time, if you help a man wi' a present in a neeborly way, it sweetens his blood— he thinks it kind on you; but the parish shillin's turn it sour— he niver thinks 'em enough." In illustration of this opinion Mr. Jerome had a large store of details about such persons as Jim Hardy, the coal-carrier, "as lost his boss," and Sally Butts, "as hedto sell her mangle, though she was as decent a woman as need to be " ; to the hearing of which details Janet seriously inclined; and you would hardly desire to see a prettier picture than the kind-faced, white-haired old man telling these frag- ments of his simple experience as he walked, with shoulders slightly bent, among the moss-roses and espalier apple-trees, while Janet in her widow's cap, her dark eyes bright with interest^ went listening by his side, and little Lizzie, vith her nankin bonnet hanging down her bank, toddled on "u«£ore them. Mrs. Jerome usually declined these lingering strolls, and oft*' observed, " I niver see the like to Mr. Jerome when he's g «r— ^ , Mi^y^MSBm JANIT'8 RXPBMTANOI. •67 Mri. OmniMtar to talk to; it dnnifiM nothln' to him whether we ve tea at four or at flye o'clock; he'd go on till six, if you'd let him alone— he's like off hu head." However, Mrs. Jerome herself could not deny that Janet was a very prettv- ■pokan woman: "She al'ys saye, she niver gets sioh pikelets as mine nowhere; I know that very weU— other folks buy 'em at shop*— thick, unwholesome things, you might as well eat a sponge." The sight of little Lizzie often stined in Janet's mind a sense of the childlessness which had made a fatal blank in her life. She had fleeting thoughU that perhaps among her hus- buid's dutant relatiTes there might be some ohUdren whom she could help to bring up, some little girl whom she might adopt; and she promised herself one day or other to hunt out a second cousin of his— a married woman, of whom he had lost sight for many years. But at present her hands and heart were too full for her to carry out that scheme. To her great disappointment, her project of settling Mrs. Pettifer at Holly Mount had been de- layed by the discorery that some repairs were necessary in order to make the house habitable, and it was not till Septem- ber had set in that she had the satisfaction of seeing her old friend comfortably installed, and the rooms destined for Mr. Tryan looking pretty and cosey to her heart's content. She had taken several of his chief friends into her confidence, and they were warmly wishing success to her plan for inducing him to quit poor Mrs. Wagstaff's dingy house and dubious oookeqr. That he should consent to some such change was becoming more and more a matter of anxiety to his hearers; for though no more decided symptoms were yet observable in him than increasing emacUtion, a dry hacking cough, and an occasional shortness of breath, it was felt that the fulfilment of Mr. Pratt's prediction could not long be deferred, and that this obstinate persistence in labor and self-disregard must soon be peremptorily out short by a total failure of strength. Any hopes that the influence of Mr. Tryan's father and sister would prevail on him to change hli mode of life— that they would perhaps come to live with him, or that his sister at least might come to see him, and that the arguments which LMX^jmsk / mMmm^m^M^Mm'^siii^m. p t}/ V"!: *'>oiuiion na QUIT (ANSI ond ISO TEST CHAUT No. Ji 1.0 I.I u |££ BOO Itt lio Ki^l^i^ A ^PPUEDJ^MGEInc "•MJ.* I** SUM 368 SCENltS OF ounucAi. ldh. liad failed from other lips might be more persuaaive from hen —were now quite dissipated. His father had lately had an attack of paralysis, and could not spare his only daughter's tendance. On Mr. Tryan's return from a visit to his father, Miss Linnet was very anxious to know whether his sister had not urged him to try change of air. From his answers she gathered that Miss Tryan wished him to give up his curacy and travel, or at least go to the south Devonshire coast. "And why vill you not do so?" Miss Linnet said; "you might come back to us well and strong, and have many years of usefulness before you." "No," he answered quietly, "I think people attach more importance to such measures than is warranted. I don't see any good end that is to be served by going to die at Kice, in- stead of dying amongst one's friendn and one's work. I can- not leave Mllby — at least I will not leave it voluntarily." But though he remained immovable on this point, he had been compelled to give up his afternoon service on the Sun- day, and to accept Mr. Parry's offer of aid in the evening ser- vice, as well as to curtail his week-day labors; and he had even written to Mr. Prendergast to request that he would ap- point another curate to the Faddiford district, on the under- standing that the new curate should receive the salary, but that Mr. Tryan should oo-operate with him as long as he was able. The hopefulness which is an almost constant at- tendant on consumption had not the effect of deceiving him as to the nature of his malady, or of making him look forward to ultimate recovery. He believed himself to be consump- tive, and he had not yet felt any desire to escape the early death which he had for some time contemplated as probable. Even diseased hopes will take their direction from die strong habitual bias of the mind, and to Mr. Tryan death had for years seemed nothing else than the laying down of a burthen, under which he sometimes felt himself fainting. He was only sanguine about his powers of work: he flattered himself that what he was unable to do one week he should be equal to the next, and he would not admit that in desisting from any part of his labor, he was renouncing it permanently. He had lately delighted Mr. Jerome by accepting his long-proffered » w JANET'S REPENTAlfCB. loan of the "litUe chacenut horse"- an,l i.. « ^ of the work he had dropped *" "'""* »"""• she saw Hou/Mounlt^S orderT ^^ ""^ ^"^ ^•'""<'^' attic tooeliar It wal an oS »h t { ^^ '»'°fortable from in front, and t.ooJ^^ Z^^t^^^r''' 'j° «""- L ^»^ed"'irt:\'oo^r;^i^^£^-tT^^ :^pr£;"f.:\5a;rstntV?t^^^^^ S; dri5H~ -^^^^^^^^^^ vJ^""' T*^*"'" ■*« *""^' ''l"'" she had finished her ™^ vey, "you have done your work as well^ =L *■ ?^ or godmother that ever t„ZZ , " ""^ fairy-mother horses. You ste! Th >. . " ^""^^^^ ^^ » <»aeh and X Sil,^^" • ''T"'" "■>•• -k" ~..a th,3; if i ._ 870 SOSNES OF CLERICAL LIFE. There was no line of silveiy willows marking the coarse of a stream — no group of Scotch firs with their trunks reddening in the level sunbeams — nothing to break the flowerless mo- notony of grass and hedgerow but an occasional oak or elm, and a few cows sprinkled here and there. A very common- place scene, indeed. But what scene was ever commonplace in the descending sunlight, when color has awakened from its noonday sleep, and the long shadows awe as like a disclosed presence? Above all, what scene is commonplace to the eye that is filled with serene gladness, and brightens all things with its own joy? And Janet just now was very happy. As she walked along the rough lane with a buoyant step, a half-smile of iibocent, kindly triumph played about her mouth. She was delighting beforehand in the anticipated success of her persuasive power, and for the time her painful anxiety about Sir. Try an' s health was thrown into abeyance. Bat she had not gone far along the lane before she heard the sound of a horse advancing at a walking pace behind her. Without looking back, she tamed aside to make way for it between the ruts, and did not notice that for a moment it had stopped, and had then come on with a slightly quickened pace. In less than a minute she heard a well-known voice say, "Mrs. Dempster"; and, taming, saw Mr. Tryan close to her, holding his horse by tiie bridle. It seemed very natural to her that he should be there. Her mind was so full of his presence at that moment, that the actual sight of him was only like a more vivid thought, and she behaved, as we are apt to do when feeling obliges us to be genuine, with a total forgetfulness of polite forms. She only looked at him with a slight deepening of the smile that was already on her face. He said gently, " Take my arm " j and they walked on a little way in silence. It was he that broke it. " You are going to Paddif ord, I suppose? " The question -.eoalled Janet to the consciousness that this was an unexpected opportunity for beginning her work of per- suasion, and that she was stupidly neglecting it. "Yes," she said, "I was going to Mrs. Linnet's. I knew Mrs. Linnet would like to hear that our friend Mrs. Pet- JANET'S REPENTANCE. 371 b« sure to ge7Z,irewl r *° f ^^^ *"' "h" ^""W with; and I didn't likeL?. "TfortaWe creature toUre thing in order lid lT„*""' *° '"*' '"^-^y ^^^ohed, every: lodgings, which anotter?:rj:l i\''°'"''«"»°°'"'°^"» take immediately- and W™ ,i ^^^''"^8 »"d would HoUy Mount, Zl'gMal'mTL^f *^ ^''^*^! ^ "^ «* wait on him; and limfort ^ i,i! f li " '"^ ''^ '*^K ^er erable about hiT" *"" ^"'^^'^ ''^^ "^ q«te mio- »y no, he coum SVe.S ^^'tte'^^n;; \* r' "°' sweetness for him, and that h« .h™^ i u • * ^^ ' "«'' a little-only a Uttir for f^ should like it to be prolonged rilyabouty^t Wh!n 8?e hfd I •V^''"* " **~"8~ "^ at him with a doub^" *Sg'^:;:J 'P^«. ''•e l-^ed mgather, his eyes weie c^ downw^' ^ttlT ""' '°°''- Of ^^s^a^en^uraged her, and she^ Jta^iXZ ablfblSSS: tLtr^dV^t'- ^^™ -—peak- sharpened^d p^T "^L "^^'^ ^ *« -aUo of a &«, i an SCENB8 OF CLERICAL LIFE. the aasaranoe of grateful affection and the prophecy of coming death. Her tears rose; they turned round without speaking, and went back ^galn along the lane. CHAPTER XXVII. Ih less than a week Mr. Tryan was settled at Holly Mount, and there was not one of his many attached hearers who did not sincerely rejoice at the event. The autumn that year was bright and warm, and at the be- ginning of October, Mr. Walsh, the new cuiate, came. The mild weather, the relaxation from excessive work, and per- haps another benignant influence, had for a few weeks a visi- bly favorable effect on Mr. Tryan. At least he began to feel new hopes, which sometimes took the guise of new strength. He thought of the oases in which consumptive patients remain neuly stationary for years, without suffering so as to make their life burthensome to themselves or to others; and he be- gan to struggle with a longing that it might be so with him. He struggled with it, because he felt it to be an indioaidon that earthly affection was beginning to have too strong; a hold on him, and he prayed earnestly for more perfect submission, and for a more absorbing delight in the Divine Presence as the chief go> He was conscious that he did not wish for pro- longed life solely that he might reclaim the wanderers and sustain the feeble : he was conscious of a new yearning for those pure human joys which he had voluntarily and deter- minedly, banished from his life — for a draught of that deep affection from which he had been out off by a dark chasm of remorse. For now, that affection was within his reach; he saw it there, like a pahn-shadowed well in the desert; he C( 'Id not desire to die in sight of it. And so the autumn roUed gently by in its "calm decay." Until November, Mr. Tryan continued to preach occasionally, to ride about visiting his flock, and to look in at his schools; but his growing satisfaction in Mr. Walsh as his successor saved him from too eager exertion and from worrying anxiety. /«ri.^^ll,j JANETS BEPEMTANCE. 373 Tanet waa with him a great deal now, for ahe saw that he liked IZ ^.'f ^ ^^> ""• lengthening evening and tt^ the rule for her and her mother to have tea at HoU v W. hardly stand out through the winter, but she lo kn^thlt 11^ tl"^, ^' ^'- ^"'^ °^ ^o'^'^^y' ^^0^. at hir re- quest, he had consented to call in Tt »»= „«* desiraMe to teU Mr. Try J^ wtt was rev'^e^VrSr scope, but Janet knew the worst. ^ ° ShefeltnorebeUion under thU prospect of bereavement but rather a qmet submissive sorrow. Gratitude thlHu influence and guidance had been given her, even if only for a htUe while-gratitude that she was permitted to be with hL with hun, to be something to him in these hist months of )l^i. Z1- 'V*r« ^ ^"^ *^*'' "^""^t "ilonced relt HTrke^L "" ^'^r^^ ""■ «''"" *«*«ly°f woman's We Her keenest persona) emotions had been poured forth in her early love-her wounded affection with its years of aTg^Bhl ago. ine thought of Mr. Tryan was associated for her with repose from that conflict of emotion, with t™t in rt. ^geable, with the influ, of a pow "to s^ue'eS" To have been assured of his sympathy^ his teaching, his Mp S th^gh her hfe, would have been to her like a LvLZa^ begun-a deliverance from fear and danger; but the time wi not yet come for her to be conscious that the hoM he h^ 0^ thnhl ""f^."'^"' *^ "^^ "f «>« heaven-sent friend who had come to her like the angel in the prison, and loosed the dreadful doors that had once closed her in Before November was over Mr. Tryan had ceased to ko out Anew crisis had come on: the cough had cha^g^lrcwl T^^m^ worst symptoms developed themselves so r^^- ly that Mr. Pratt began to think the end would arrive sooner v^ S74 SCBNXS OF CLERICAL LIFK. than he had expected. Janet became a oonatant attendant on him now, and no one could feel that she was performiog any- thing but a sacied office. She made Fjlly Hount her home, and, with her mother and Mn. Pettifer to help her, she filled the painful days and nights with every soothing influence that care and tenderness could devise. There were many visitors to the sick-room, led thither by venerating afFeotion ; and there could hardly be one who did not retain in after-years a vivid remembrance of the scene there — of the pale wasted' form in the easy-chair (for he sat up to the last), of the gray eyes so full even yet of inquiring kindness, as the thin, almost trans- parent hand was held oat to give the pressure of welcome; and of the sweet woman, too, whose dark watchful eyes de- tected every want, and who supplied the want with a ready hand. There were others who would have had the heart and the skill to fill this place by Mr. Tryan's side, and who would have accepted it as an honor ; but they could not help feeling that God had given it to Janet by a train of events which were too impressive not to shame all jealousies into silence. That sad history which most of us know too well, lasted more than three months. He was too feeble and suffering for the last few weeks to see any visitors, but he still sat up through the day. The strange hallucinations of the disease which had seemed to take a more decided hold on him just at the fatal crisis, and had made him think he wis perhaps get- ting better at the very time when death had begun to hurry on with more rapid movement, had now given way, and left him calmly conscious of the reality. One afternoon near the end of February, Janet was moving gently about the room, in the fire-lit dusk, arranging some things that would be wanted in the night. There was no one else in the room, and his eyet followed her as she moved with the firm grace natural to her, while the bright fire every now and then lit up her face, and gave an unusual glow to its dark beauty. Even to follow her in this way with his eyes was an exertion that gave a painful tension to his face ; while she looked like an image of life and strength. "Janet," he said presently, in bis faint voice — he always JANET'S RJtPlNTANCE. S7C called her Janet now. In a moment she waa cloae to him bending oyer him. He opened hia hand as he looked up at her, and she placed hen within it "Janet," he said again, "you will have a long while to live after I am gone." A sudden pang of fear shot through her. She thought he felt himself dying, and she sank on her knees at his feet, holding his hand, while she looked up at him, almost breath- less. "Bi^ you will not feel the need of me as you have done. ... You have a sure trust in God. . . . i shall not look for you in vam at the last." "No .. no ... I shall be there ... God will not forsake me." She <»uld hardly utter the words, though she was not weep- ing. She was waiting with trembling eageraess for anything else he might have to say. "Let us kiss each other before we part." She lifted up her face to his, and the full life-breathing lips met the wasted dying ones in a sacred kiss of promise. CHAPTER XXVni. It soon came— the blessed day of deUverance, the sad day of bereavement J and in the second week of March they carried him to the grave. He waa buried as he had desired: there was no hearse, no mourning-coach ; his coffin waa borne by twelve of his humbler hearers, who relieved each other by turns. But he was foUowed by a long procession of moum- mg friends, women as well as men. Slowly, amid deep sUence, the dark stream passed along Orchard Street, where eighteen months before the Evangelical curate had been saluted with hootings and hisses. Mr. Je- rome and Mr. Landor were the eldest pall-bearers; and be- hmd the coffin, led by Mr. Tryan's cousin, walked Janet, in quiet submissive sorrow. She could not feel that he wa.i quite gone from her; the unseen world lay so very near her— it held «7« S0INB8 OF CLRRIOAL UFl. ■. / I •11 that had ever ttined the depths of anguUh aod joy within her. It was a oloudy morning, and had been raining when they left Holly Mount; but as they walked, the sun broke out, and the clouds were rolling off in large masses when they entered the churchyard, and Mr. Walsh's voice was heard saying, " I am the Resurrection and the Life." The faces were not hard at this funeral; the burial-serrioe was i t a hollow form. Every heart there was filled with the memory of a man who, through a self-sacrificing life and in a painful death, bad been sustained by the faith which fills that form with breath and substance. When Janet left the grave, she did not return to Holly Mount; she went to her home in Orchard Street, where her mother was waiting to receive her. She said quite calmly, "Let us walk round the garden, mother." And they walked round in Rilence, with their hands clasped together, looking at the goldeu crocuses bright in the spring sunshine. Janet felt a deep stillness within. She thirsted for no pleasure; she craved no worldly good. She saw the years to come stretch before her like an autumn afternoon, filled with resigned memory. Life to her could never more have any eagerness; it was a solemn service of gratitude and patient effort She walked in the presence of unseen witnesses — of the Divine love that had rescued her, of the human love that waited for its eternal repose until it had seen her endure to the end. Janet is living still. Her black hair is gray, and her step is no longer buoyant; but the sweetness of her smile remains, the love is not gone from her eyes; and strangers sometimes ask. Who is that noble-looking elderly woman that walks about holding a Uttle boy by the hand? The Utile boy is the son of Janet's adopted daughter, and Janet in her old age has children about her knees, and loving young arms round her neck. There is a simple gravestone in Milby Churchyard, telling that in this spot lie the remains of Edgar Tryan, for two years ofSciating curate at the Paddiford Chapel-of-Ease, in this par- ish. It is a meagre memorial, and telb you simply that the JANKT'S REPENTANOB. 8TT mm who liM th«re took upon him, faithfully or nnfaithfuUy. the office of guide and instructor to his f ello -men. But there is another memorial of Edgar i ito, which bean » fuller record: it is Janet Dempsfc-, rescued from self-de- spair, strengthened with divine hopes, and now looking back on years of purity and helpful labor. The man ;»ho has left such a memorial behind him must have been one whose heart beat with true compassion, and whose lips were moyed bv fervent faith. ' XHX XNB. SILAS MARNER: THE WEAVER OP RAVELOE. *'AeiiUd,iiMr«thuinoUMrftfit »•• (ulh oan offe- -'-•■■ • tti«« Willi It, ud lbnnu«-loi>tli« ibooiiiii. " -WoMmroiint PART I. CHAPTEE I. tk^f^J^"^' '''"°. *" »P^inrwheeI. hummed budly b th^f«mhau8e._and even great ladie., clothed in sUk Ld &^^^l ^ '^•"' '^f 'P'^'^^H-whtel, of polieh.^ o.r ttere might be seen in diatricU f«p away among the lanea^or deep m fte boeom of the hill., certain pilid JdewizS meT who, by the side of the brawny oouatir-folk looked «lf rtl ™mn«.Uofadi,inherit«lr««,!^ The^eSird^X wS uZJ H^ °°* "^ these alien-looking ml appeared ^t^ Hk« ^fi ^T* f" ""'y '^°**» "unsetrfcTwhat dog ™,^v. H*J!f^ ^* "nder. heavy bagy-and these palemef Z^h ;^ "»"";:* ''"'°"* "«* myeterion. burden. ?he Jepherd himself though he had good reason to believe that ^ ^» r nothmg but flaxen thread, or else the long roUs ^strong hnen spun from that thread, was not quite sui; that Uus trade of veavmg, mdispensable though it was, could be wmied on entirely without the help of the Evil One. In that ttr-off time superstition clung easily round every person or Uung that was at aU unwonted, or even intermittent and ooca- V SILAS HARiniR. lional mei«ly, Uke the yigits of the pedler or the knife-grinder. No one knew where wandering men had their homes or their origin! "i"i how was a man to be explained unless you at least knew somebody who knew his father or mother? To the peasants of old times, the world outside their own direct expe- rience was a region of vagueness and mystery: to their un- travelled thought a state of wandering was a conception as dim as the winter life of the swallows that came back with the spring; and even a settler, if he came from distant parts, hardly ever ceased to be viewed with a remnant of distrust, which would have prevented any surprise if a long course of inoffensive conduct on his part had ended in the commission of a crime; especiaUy if he had any reputation for knowledge, or showed any skill in handicraft. All cleverness, whether in the rapid use of that difficult instrument the tongue, or in some other art unfamiliar to villagers, was in itself suspi- cious: honest folk, bom and bred in a visible manner, were mostly not overwise or clever— at least, not beyond such a matter as knowing the signs of the weather; and the process by which rapidity and dexterity of any kind were acquired was so whoUy hidden, that they partook of the nature of son- juring. In this way it came to pass that those scattered linen-weavers— emigrants from the town into the country- were to the last regarded as aUens by their rustic neighbors, and usually contracted the eccentric habits which belong to a state of loneliness. In the early years of this century, such a linen-weaver, named Silas Mamer, worked at his vocation in a stone cottage that stood among the nutty hedgerows near the village of Eav- eloe, aiid not far from the edge of a deserted stone-pit. The questionable sound of Silas's loom, so unlike the natural cheerful trotting of the winnowing-machine, or the simpler rhythm of the flail, had a half -fearful fascination for the Kav- eloe boys, who would often leave off their nutting or birds'- nesting to peep in at the window of the stone cottage counter- balancing a certain awe at the mysterious action of the loom, by a pleasant sense of scornful superiority, drawn from the mockery of its altematmg noises, along with the bent, tread- mill attitude of the weaver. But sometimes it happened that SILAS XABNER. 7 Mamer, paming to adjust an irregularity in hi* thread, became he liked their intrusion so ill that he would descend from h^ W and, opening the door, would fix on them a gtTth^ was riways enough to make them take to their legs in Wr Forhow was it possible to believe that those large brownZ tuber^it eyes in Silas Marner's pale face reaufsawIothC their dreadful stare could dart cramp, or ricket« n, <. 3, mouth at any boy who happenW to be i^'t^e S^WhlZ peraaps, heard their fathers and mothers hint that Silw Mar- r^r oould cure folk's rheumatism if he had a m^dra^dS. stall more darkly, that if you could only speak the dTvU f^i enough, he might save you the cost of Tthe doctor Such sti^nge Imgenng echoes of the old demon-worship might per ^^^L"*""^ r«^' bythedUigent listener^mfng Uie cKhrfdLT*^' '" ^l™'" """'^''*^ difflculty'asso- ti^JZ Tl ?*"""■ ""* '^8"%- A shadowy ^ncep- tion ofpower that by much persuasion can be induced to re- frain from inflicting harm, is the shape most easirteken by he sense of the Invisible in the mtod, of men wh^ have Me of hard toJ has never been iUuminated by any enthusias- tao religious fa^th. To them pain and mishap prUnt af^ wider range of possibilitiee than gkdness Ld enjoymen" theu im^abon is almost barren of the images &T^ Jd»^^A,^1 "/• °"'"»~^ "y '«»ll«^ns that a^ a perpetual pasturetofear. "Is there anything you can fan^ ^ V T^J"" ^* "^"^ O""! '»«> had refused all th! food his wrfe had offered him. "No," he answered, "C Zl^ T" *° °°*^^ ""* ~'^» victual, Td% cL' ^?.!^ Experience had bred no fancies in Um that could raise the phantasm of appetite. lintifri^J!f. r^^ '^''" °"^y °f *!>« "11 echoes ^I^ ^drowned by new voices. Not that it was one of ao» barren parishes lying on the outskirts of civUization- ^T^ ^ "^T^ "^"'P """^ ^'"^y """•'"d shepherds ■ on the contrary, it lay in the rich central plain of wLTe ^ 8 BHiAS XABSXR pleased to call Meny England, and held fUmi wMoh, speak- ing from a spiritual point of view, paid highly deeirable tithes. But it was nestled in a snug well-wooded hollow, quite an hour's journey on horseback from any turnpike, where it was never reached by the vibrations of the coaoh-hom, or of public opinion. It was an important-looking Tillage, with a fine old church and large churchyard in the heart of it, and two or three large brick-and-stone homesteads, with well-walled or- chards and ornamental weathercocks, standing close upon the road, and lifting more imposing nonts than the lectory, which peeped from among the trees on the other side of the church- yard: — a village which showed at once the summits of its social life, and told the practised eye that there was no great park and manor-house in the vicinity, but that there were several chiefs in Baveloe who could farm badly quite at their ease, drawing enough money from their bad farming, in those war times, to live in a rollicking fashion, and keep a jolly Christmas, Whitsun and Easter tide. It was fifteen years since Silas Mamer had first come to Baveloe ; he was then simply a pallid young man, with promi- nent short-sighted brown eyes, whose appearance would have had nothing strange for people of average culture and experi- ence; but for the villagers near whom he had come to settle it had mysterious peculiarities which corresponded with the ex- ceptional nature of his occupation, and his advent from an unknown region called " North'ard." So had his way of life : — he invited no comer to step across his door-sill, and he never strolled into the village to drink a pint at the Bainbow, or to gossip at the wheelwright's: he sought no man or woman, save for the purposes of his calling, or in order to supply him- self with necessaries; and it was soon clear to the Baveloe lasses that he would never urge one of them to accept him against her will — quite as if he had heard them declare that they w^uld never marry a dead man come to life again. This view of Mamer's personality was not without another ground than his pale face and unexampled eyes; for Jem Bodney, the mole-catcher, averred that one evening as he was returning homeward he saw Silas Mamer leaning against a stile with a heavy bag on his back, instead of resting the bag on the stile made of iron, but S wZt^ ^^^'^ " ^ ^^y'^ b**" weaver waa dUight be'such a 1W T.Z^^ •=- -^ "6->» from his body, and (toine oTLn^ ■ v,^ ' *"^ '^^'S loose nest and back and&«L^ ?f* ^''''' " ^'"^ o^^ ot its went to school inttifl^!^,i°:Jf^«°' ----e, for they them more than their nei^h to!, !! T^*^™* ''^° """''i teach senses and the pawon An H "h "^"i"^ '«*™ with their five his knowledge of S'fJ^ ^'t ^'^ ^'"*«' Earner get givethemaw'^f 'SSS-^it:'Tsl*°° " "« ""'"^^ might have been expected b^lL.!!?^ J"^° """^ '^>" what ner had cured sX^£s Ld ™^^ l^" ^^^ "^ ^""^ Mar- when her heart had been L«i? ."' '^'^^ ^^^ » »»by, two months and mor^ whUe ,hf Z"t "T """ '^'^' '°^ «are- He might cure mo e i if^T "^ff f ' ''°"*°'''' worth speaking fair if itZJ , . ^ ^°'^^' b"' ^« was you a mischief ' ''*' ""^^ *° '"*P ^m from doing It was partly to this - -me fear thnf nr for protecting him from thrL„^„tion ^V- """ '"•^"^'^ 10 SILAS HABinBa riolMT hoTiMwires of the diatriot, and eren to the more prori- dent cottagers, who had their little stock of jam~at the year's end. Their sense of his usefulness would hare counteracted any repugnance or suspicion which was not confirmed by a deficiency in the quality or the tale of the cloth he wove for them. And the years rolled on without producing any change in the impressions of the neighbors concerning Iilamer, except the change from novelty to habit. At the end of fifteen years the Baveloe men said just the same things about Silas Mamer as at the beginning : they did not say them quite so often, but they believed them much more strongly when they did say them. There was only one important addition which the years had brought: it was, that Master Mamer had laid by a fine sight of money somewhere, and that he conld buy up " big- ger men " than himself. But while opinion concerning him had remained nearly sta- tionary, and his daily habits had presented scarcely any visi- ble change, Mamer's inward life had been a history and a metamorphosis, as that of every fervid nature must be when it has fled or been condemned to solitude. His life, before he came to Baveloe, had been filled with the movement, the men- tal activity, and the close fellowship which, in that day as in this, marked the life of an artisan early incorporated in a nar- row religions sect, where the poorest layman has the chance of distinguishing himself by gifts of speech, and has, at the very least, the weight of a silent voter in the government of his community. Mamer was highly thought of in that little hid- den world, known to itself as the church assembling in Lan- tern Yard; he was believed to be a young man of exemplary life and ardent faith ; and a peculiar interest had been centred in him ever since he had fallen, at a prayer-meeting, into a mysterious rigidity and suspension of consciousness, which, lasting for an hour or more, had been mistaken for death. To have sought a medical explanation for this phenomenon would have ber~ . held by Silas himself, as well as by his minister and fellow-members, a wilful self-exclusion from the spiritoal sig- nificance that might lie therein. Silas was evidently a brother selected for a peculiar discipline; and though the effort- to in- terpret this discipline was discouraged by the absence, on his SniAfl UARNXR. 11 part, of any gpiritual vision dnriiut his ontw-wi t, wa. believed by hi^elf and Z, ftatTtTL^f "^ ^•* '* an accession of liijht and fT™. a , *^*"* ''** •«'° "* might have C toid^to J" ^'^'^*^ «"«» than he vision in the fom XZLnf^ *^'' aubsequent creation of a We believed rsu1haTri:?ilrS,''''''T!r° '"'«''* honest, thongh, as with^^J ?' . ^/" ""* ^^ ""« a°d ao it spread itseU oveTSf '° ' T"* °* ""y"*^' »°d knowMge. HehadTLri^^Sh^*^!*^ °* inquiry and anoe with medioiniU h^bs^fh '°°*^*' '"""' '«=«>«^*- of wisdon, which^e ^ad rpit^Z^*'°"r ""'*' •'»« —but of late vea™ J,a wt j S^ to hun as a solemn bequest appiy4 tt c:id^'bS£i°'''':^,'7^ H^^ ""^^ °' efficacy without praverindfh.?^* '"v"" «>nMhaveno herbs; so that hU i^'e^J^*!*,.''?/!'" "''«''* ''"'^'«' ''*out fields in search of fo^W^fM*,*" ^'"•'« *™"8h the to we., to him the clS:t:r':f aXir °°''"'~* "^ 4T?^e:iri"hisS Srth""'^ T.r ^"-^ in such close friendsWoSftC *., ^ '"' '^ ^°°8 "»«! tern Yard bretl^nT^ \i*em dJ^«/'«^'? of ^^"^ I*"" real name of the friend wasl^l^T^""^ '^T^ ^^ regarded as a shining LswT^oTth^'' T^^"' *^' "^ T-hat given to over-severi^^w^i T^ ?'*'^' ^°'^^ "^^■ 80 daztled by hil o^f^S «Tk Tf?*' •'™*^""' ""<**<"« teachers. But wS bC^h. \^k"^" ''«'^ "^ ^ William, to his^nd's minTl " °*^"'' "'•«^' «!■«'««" i" hadoneWVo^SprlsiWe llf hT^*'"^*'''^' '°' ^^» an inexperienc^ Z SS. tL h^"* °'"^'' ''^'=''' *» tradictiSn. The ew^^f ^^."*'^™'"" ""^ 1«^ °n «°n- face, heighten^ by S°^' '^''*"'« "'»P««>*y in tamer's def^cele'ss, detSLe^ltl^"^ ^V^"^ observation, that eyes, wassUnglyl^nCt^^bvt^J"^' *° ^'^ P"""^*"* «on of inward wLXttaUuSefil ^"T'^^'^r * '"PP'*" and compressed lips^tl^^t^,'^'' ^J ^'^^-g^J^ M 8ILA8 MARNER. with longing wonder when William declared tiiat he had poi- aessed unshaken assurance ever since, in the period of his con- version, he had dreamed that he saw the words " calling and election sure " standing by themselves on a white page in the open Bible. Such colloquies have occupied many a pair of pale-faced weavers, whose unnurtured souls have been like young winged things, fluttering forsaken in the twilight; It had seemed to the unsuspecting Silas that the friendship had suffered no chill even from his formation of another at- tachment of a closer kind. For some months he had been engaged to a young servant-woman, waiting only for a little increase to their mutual savings in order to their marriage ; and it was a great delight to him that Sarah did not object to William's ooeasional presence in their Sunday interviews. It was at this jraint in their history that Silas's cataleptic fit occurred daring the prayer-meeting ; and amidst the various queries and expressions of interest addressed to him by his fellow-members William's suggestion alone jarred with the general sympathy toward a brother thus singled out for special dealings. He observed that, to him, this trance looked more like a visitation of Satan than a proof of divine favor, and exhorted his friend to see that he hid no accursed thing within his soul. Silas, feeling bound to accept rebuke and admoni- tion as a brotherly office, felt r 3 resentment, but only pain, at his friend's doubts concerning him ; and to this was soon added some anxiety at the perception that Sarah's manner toward him began to exhibit a strange fluctuation between an effort at an incre^ed manifestation of regard and involuntary signs of shrinking and dislike. He asked her if she wished to break off their engagement; but she denied this: their engagement ^vas known to the church, and had been recognized in the prayer-meeting ; it conld not be broken off without strict inves- tigation, and Sarah could render no reason that would be sanc- tioned by the feeline; of the community. At this time thr senior deacon was taken dangerously ill, and, being a childlcds widower, he was tended night and day by some of the younger brethren or sisters. Silas frequently took his turn in the night- watching with William, the one relieving tfa other at two in the morning. The old man, contrary to expectation, seemed BILAB HAKNXR. 13 w^sealdirl™! ?f^8*«rth" was said untU sC Ze tio^lChadV °'^°'^ '"''^«''' 'J^ioi William you b^othe. Manner. Th/ieyl':! E ^ SS Wilham Dane deolareB to us that he was hindered b/«^d^ 14 BILAS HARNIB. liokneu from gomg to take bU pUoe aa uaoal, and yon you- self said that he had not oome; and, moreoTer.^Ton nssleoted the dead body." "I must have slept," said Silas. Then, after a pause, he added, " Or I must hare had another visitation like that which you have all seen me under, so that the thief must bare oome and gone while I was not in the body, but out of the body. But, I say again, search me and my dwelling, for I have been nowhere else." The search was made, and it ender<— in William Dane's finding the well-known bag, empty, ti oked behind the chest of drawers in Silas's chamber I On this William exhorted his friend to confess, and not to hide his sin any longer. Silas turned a look of keen reproach on him, and said, " William, for nine years that we have gone in and out together have you ever known me to tell a lie? But God will clear me." "Brother," said William, "how do I know what you may have done in the secret chambers of your heart, to give Satan an advantage over you? " Silas was still looking at his friend. Suddenly a deep flush came over his face, and he was about to speak impetuously, when he seemed checked again by some inward shook, that sent the flush back and made him tremble. But at last he spoke feebly, looking at William. " I remember now— the knife wasn't in my pootet." William said, "I know nothing of what yon mean." The other persons present, however, began to inquire where Silas meant to say that the knife was, but he would give no further explanation: he only said, "I am sore stricken; I can say nothl- g. God will clear me." On their return to the vestry there was further deliberation. Any resort to legal measures for ascertaining the culprit was contrary to the principles of the church ir Lantern Yard, ac- cording to which prosecution was forbidden to Christians, even had the case held less scandal to the community. But the members were bound to take other measures for finding out the truth, and they resolved on praying and drawing lots. This resolution can bs a ground of surprise cmly to those who are unacquainted with that obscure religious life which has >n.As jutana. ^g mouniinff behind f •>» J,i™ ""^ ""» "lere vm lonow and •nd oaUed upon to rendfr ,^7 * ^""o oturoh-membership, fe«ion, M the «i^^ ' "r/"° '*°^'? """"'3'; only on con^ more ^ilT tSr&lT t^'t ~^'^ ^ •* "^^^'d «»«» •ilenoe. At W X, L "^- ^^^ li»tened in toward WuiTkLId^^/- a^^r fT' ^ "»* tion,— ^''' "* » ^o»<* shaken by agita- toi^i'oJTt^ :ra Lrc';^ to. ^- ^-^ -'■- ^ " iii my pocket agidn ^^^u^i^ 1^ * "«°<"»ber putting wovenaplottolaTtte.i„^r„ ! """"y- """l y°» have eouslv, but a God of T^ttStJ^ Ih"™ '^^ '^^ "S^"*" oent." ' " ■**" w'tness againat the inno- thi. i. the iTsi. ^' nJ,^ T ^*^- '^ i-'-'s^ wheth„ *>» jou, Silaa." I can do nothing but pray to a loving nature Li «^r^I ^"*^ '*°'* »' madnem he «ud to hS' "^^n ^""*" "' ^ '"'""•Jod spirit, fleeted thaJS did^or^r T °* '^•" ^^ ^e re- her whole1uthZstt°:;SrhS;«""r "«T^' ^'"^ tomed to reason about th« ftT™. • "".T"*- ^o people accus- ing ha, inco^po«t^^2:l^;7i,"d£:t?"'?"«^''"''*-^■ simple, untaught state of riit,i- v ,l"^' *° «°<*' ""to that apt to think it ineyitahl« fw . "^^otion- We are 1< SILAB KARNXR .^r faith. If than i» tn angel who noordi th« MRom of man u well M their sini, he knowe how mmny and deep are the lonowi that ipring from falae ideaa for whioh no man is culpable. Mamer went home, and for a whole day lat alone, itonned by despair, without any impulse to go to Sarah and attempt to win her belief in his innooenoe. The second day he took ref- uge from benumbing unbelief Ly getting into his loom and working away as usual; and before many hours were past, the minister and one of the deacons came to him with the message from Sarah that she held her engagement to him at an end. Silas received the message mutely, and then turned away from the messengers to work at his loom again. In little more than a month from that time, Sarah was married to William Dane; and not long afterward it was known to the brethren in Lan- tern Yard that Silas Mamer had departed from the town. CHAPTEB n. Etik people whose lives hare been made yarions by learn- ing sometimes find it hard to keep a fast hold on their habit- ual views of life, on their faith in the Invisible, nay, on the sense that their past joys and sorrows are a real experience, when they are suddenly transported to a new land, where the beings around them know nothing of their history, and share none of their ideas — where their mother earth shows another lap, and human life has other forms than those on whioh their souls have been nourished. Minds that have been unhinged from their old faith and love, have perhaps sought this Lethe- an influence of exile, in whioh the past becomes dreamy be- cause its symbols have all vanished, and the present too is dreamy because it is linked with no memories. But even theit experience may hardly enable them thoroughly to imag- ine what was the effect on a simple weaver like Silas Mamer, when he left his own country and people and came to settle in Baveloe. Nothing could be more unlike his native town, set within sight of the widespread hillsides, than this low, wood- ed Ki^oD, whwo h« felt hidden even from the he»i.n. h. ti. frbLL^d•rk^rt^/r•^rJ.r.^^.' '- *^ ^ '•-^ ♦1™. «.;i.i. »u X !■• •"'"" Bn»i laat seemed to have i .v rela- tion with that life centring in Lantern V.,rf -k; 7 t Z tered phra.ee at once oocuU ITZaAl^^T' Tl the book m a long-aoouatomed manners ^e ver^ pa;u,t^ll tween the coupleto of the hymn as it wu ^„.l ^ \ ^ recurrent swell of voice, in «n« thLl^hin k ^''.!"'* ^^ channel of dirine influen^L to&a^"lSe7:eSth^:,^' jng of his rdigioas emotions-they were "^cl UtiJ-l^^d God s kingdom upon earth. A weaver who find, hwd wo^s m hi. hymn-book know, nothing of abstraction.?., the Me child knows nothmg of parental love, but only know. onVf.«« And what could be more unlike that Lantam v.~i _ u leoted plenty; the large church in the wide ohurchyari which men gazed at lounging at their own door. ^.S- timej the purple-faced farmers jogirinB alons th« l.nT ^rninginat the Rainbow, homi,^!^ S^mL "^pp^ heavUy and slept in the light of the evenilig hearth^^d Xe women «emed to be laying up a stock of linen for ^eUSeZ ^Z\, ,^"fr ™ °° «P« ^ Baveloe from wh°ch a word ^^ fall that would stir Silas Mamer's benumbed faitt to a ^se heved that each territory was inhabited and ruled by itTo^ divinities so that a man could cross the borderinrheUte .^ whfoh J l,^" "t^^^naand the grove, and the hill, among '^oh he had lived from hi. birth. And poor Silas w^f vaguely ,»nscious of something not unlike the f^ing7p,^ u OLAB XARMBB. itire men, wbw they fled thni, in faar or in toUaocMt, bom the ttM of an unpropitioua deity, 't nemed to bim tlikt the Power he had Tkinly truated in among the itreeti and at the prayer-meeting* wai rery far away from thit land in vhich he had taken refage, where men lived in oareleaa abundance, knowing and needing nothing of that trutt which, for him, had been turned to bittemesi. The little light be poiseiaed spread it* beams so narrowly that frustrated belief was a our tain broad enough to create for him the blackness of night His first morement after the shook had been to work in his loom ; and he went on with this unremittingly, never asking himself why, now he was come to Raveloe, he worked far on into the night to finish the tale of Mrs. Osgood's table-linen sooner than she expected — without contemplating beforehand the money she would put into his hand for the work. He seemed to weave, like the spider, from pure impulse, without reflection. Every man's work, pursued steadily, tends in this way to become an end in itself, and so to bridge over the love- less chasms of his life. Silas's hand saf ^fied itself with throwing the shuttle, and his eye with seeing the little squares in the cloth complete themselves under his effort. Then there were the calls of hunger; and Silas, in his solitude, had to provide his own breakfast, dinner, and supper, to fetch his own water from the well, and put his own kettle on the fire; and all these immediate promptings helped, alnng with the weaving, to reduce his life to tiie unquestioning activity of a spinning insect. He hated the thought of the pasi ; there was nothing that called out his love and fellowship toward the strangers he had come amongst; and the future was all dark, for there was no Unseen Love that cared for him. Thought was arrested by utter bewilderment, no-r its old narrow path- way was closed, and afFeotion seemed to have died under the bruise that had fallen on its keenest nerves. But at last Mrs. Osgood's table-linen was finis! :d, and Silas was paid in gold. His earnings in his native town, where he worked for a wholesale dealer ^ad been after a lower rate; he had been paid weekly, and of nis weekly earnings ii large proportion had gone to objects of piety an^ charity. ITow, for the first time in his life, he had five bright guineas WM pl*»u>t to him toT"l tw7' K ? '»•*"«*. for it bright f.0.,, which »e™ all ht '"',?'''"' ""• '"»»'' •' tl-'i' of h«d-won money .r.„ Wo™ 4e ^m h!^ ^'"° "" *°"'='' breadth i for twenty t^„^?J- ^^^ '"^ ^rown to ita fnU toll. He had seemed to lo^ii ZL^" ;"""'^'«'« object of penny h- 1 ita nnriK^ rJZ , v *° *' y«*'" *''«> ewy But now, when'TTu^e^l,"" '" 'TJ^ '""'P^^' ^o'- toward U,e money H^LZ r^'.^^* ••'"' °' '""king effort made a loam that ^H^ * ^ * •*""• °' '"WUed twilight, he drew o:uheir;^1 Sht^'/^^'J" *^' in the gathering gioom ^^' ' ' '"" Wghter eeated by the fire miff«^„„ *Ir '.v "" cobbler's wife h««tdi,Candio™y wWc^r.^.**^"^ '^"'P*"""' o* oursora of hia ml^X^i^i nl f if '"*°?"'"^ " "" P'- mingled sight annmemb>^ce^d ' T^ °{ P^*^ "* '^^ mother had found from a sS TrL^^""^ '^''"'"'" hi. promised Sally Oaterto brin„ K P™P»"'>°'> "* foxglove, he Her. since tho'dSt jTd herL g^oT't'S? *"« ""^'^ ^'• >ty, Silas felt, for the first bme^^heL . ^ ^' ''^'"■ a sense of unity between hiTZJ^ ^ ''°"'' *" Ravoloe, have been thf ^gtZj of"^ ht "2^^* '""fi"'^'''' "^8^' exigence into which Z nature TaT k"""^""' ^"**-^^« Oatcs'a disease had raised her^.^«™°''- ^"* ^"^^ e8t and importance ammt IJT- 1 £»"»"»«« of much inter- SO' SILAS UARinCR. i when a yreaxet, wlio oame from nobody knew where, worked wonders with a bottle of brown waters, the oocqU eharaoter of the process was evident. Such a sort of thing had not been known since the Wise Woman at Tarley died; and she had charms as well as " stuff " : everybody went to her when their children had fits. Silas Mamer must be a person of the same sort, for how did he know what would bring back Sally Oates's breath, if he didn't know a fine sight more than that? The Wise Woman had words that she muttered to herself, so that you couldn't hear what they were, and if she tied a bit of red thread round the child's toe the while, it would keep off the water in the head. There were women in Baveloe, at that present time, who had worn one of the Wise Woman's little bags round their necks, and, in consequence, ^ad never had an idiot child, as Ann Coulter had. Silas Mumer could very likely do as much, and more; and now it was all clear how he should have come from unknown parts, and be so " comical- looking." But Sally Oates must mind and not tell the doctor, for he would be sure to set his face against Mamer : he was always angry about the Wise Woman, and used to threaten those who went to her that they should have none of his help any more. Silas now found himself and his cottage suddenly beset by mothers who wanted him to charm away the whooping-cough or bring back the milk, and by men who wanted stuff against the rheumatics or the knots in the hands; and, to secure themselves against a refusal, the applicants brought silver in their palms. Silas might have driven a profitable trade in charms as well as in his small list of drugs; but money on this condition was no temptation to him : he had never known an impulse toward falsity, and he drove one after another away with growing irritation, for the news of him as a wise man had spread even to Tarley, and it was long before people ceased to take long walks for the sake of asking his aid. But the hope in his wisdom was at length changed into dread, for no one believed him when he said he knew no charms and could work no cures, and every man and woman who had an accident or a new attack after applying to him, set the misfor- tune down to Master Mamer' s ill-will and irritated glances. sxLAflMARiraa ai S^;lrh\IdZn^l'i'r^'"''°*°'P'*^*«'--l Sally made hi, isolatio/ JrooSfte *"" ^ "*'«^'~"' "><> JitrLiranTM-e^Lrrra^et.^— possible Have i^f^^i 7 ? ^^- °° »* '""^ "^ »"»% « found .^ interlst^^rt' ^^ "^ ^ '^"*"y ™prisonmen^ even in the very beeinnin,, nf fh • T ^ °^ ^aginations, purpose beyond^'^^ErtaLtd tioi trtnt" "° into a square, and then into a Wr^ * ^° *° 8™'' guinea, whUe it wTtt^U^^TJ ^"^"J '^'^ "^"^ ""^ded In this strange w»Id"d«?f'"'°°' ^'^ »"ew desire, might, if he hfd ff CttensSu" t^™ ^^ ''"■'■ '« grew, but it remained wi^h'Tm'^eLl^rj.T"''*-'^ oonscious of him aa hi« l~,™ „. "•> negan to think it was counted them till rt.,-7* f : ^® handled them, he tion of a St*to ht b^t" was'ctr "".t '"'^ ^'^ ''''"^- work was done, tha^; d^w tC™ f."" *''•' °*8'"' '"'«" »•« ionship. He had tek» .vTJI T""* *° *°J°y 'l'"^ ""mpan- his loom, a^d herete Ld i^r 'rf'-"* \'^^~" ""'^«'°«»'^ -aof .., jj-r- 7£--^; 2;gt£: SILAS UABnZR. ri mind: hoarding was oommon in oountiy distaioti' in those days; there were old laborers in the parish d Baveloe who were known to have their savings by them, probably inside their flook-beds ; but their rustic neighbors, though i all of them as honest as their ancestors in the days of Kint, _ Jfred, had not imaginations bold enough to lay a plan of burglary. How could they have spent the money in their own village without betraying themselves? They would be obliged to " run away " — a course as dark and dubi >u8 as a balloon jour- ney. So, year after year, Silas Hamer had lived in this solitude, his guineas rising in the iron pot, and his life narrowing and hardening itself more and more into a mere pulsation of desire and satisfaction that had no rriation.to any other being. His life had reduced itself to the fonctions of weaving and hoard- ing, without any contemplation of an end toward which the functions tended. The same sort of process has perhaps been undergone by wiser men, when they have been cut off from faith and love— only, instead of a loom and a heap of guineas, they have had some erudite research, some ingenious project, or some well-knit theory. Strangely Mamer's face and figure shrank and bent themselves into a constant mechanical rela- tion to the objects of his life, so that he produced the same sort of impression as a handle or a crooked tube, which has no meaning standing apart. The prominent eyes that used to look trusting and dreamy now looked as if they had been made to see only one kind of thing that was very small, like tiny grain, for which they hunted everywhere : and he was so withered and yellow that, though he was not yet forty, the children always called him "Old Master Mamer." Yet even in this stage of withering a little incident hap- pened which showed that the sap of affection was not all gone. It was one of his daily tasks to fetch his water from a well a couple of fields off, and for this purpose, ever since he came to Raveloe, he had had a brown earthenware pot, which he held as his most precious utensil among the very few con- veniences he had granted himself. It had been his compan- ion for twelve years, always standing on the same spot, always lending its handle to him in the early morning, so that SOAS KARNBR. jj gled with that of haviiltte fi.^r'"' ' Mtisfaction min- he was returning fiZ !« w«l. T !. *" '***'• On* d«y « of the atUe, an/ht Wn pS f^,f*™"f ,'^''* *he Lp .tones that overarch^^dttof SKL'T T^r *^' three pieces. Silas nioked nn f.,« • ' ''"* '''"^«" "> home with grief in" s heS T^^ w"""' '^^ "^"'"^ *«"" of use to him any aore^Tt he stuS'^Se^^r** "*^«' •« ^^risrStS;^.i& ^"'"' after he came to E^vLe "^r,"'r*^*^«fift«enth year loom, his ear «led wUh its monn^^ ""l-*'^ ''^ "*' ^1^ down on the slow gro^ o^^^ ^^' ^'f ^^^ '«°' «lo«« his muscles movJ^g^iTsuel^r*'" If .">« ''""'"^^ '^'b. seemed almost as much a conT-T*''*? *^''* '^"^ ?»>"« breath. But at nightcle Ws S- V" .'."J!^^ °* "" shutters, and made fast hi. ^J^^J a* ""ght he closed his I-g ag;, the heatof tins hfrWome <^T ""f "'" «°^-^- pot to hold them, and he hadT-STV !u "^^ *" **« «» bags, which wasted no r«,m Ttt ' """" *^° *^'"' ^^''ber themselves flexibly to ev^'o^^'^Hrr^''"''' ""* '»* as they came pouring out TfVl^^' i , .*^* guineas shone silver bore no wTlr^rtln^ "'' ''^*^*" """"tbsl The the long Piecer^ CrlTch fo™T.*° "t' f ^^ '«-"- always partly paid for ta wld afd^'t „^V'"«^ '"^^ were plied his own bodily wantfrhw , * *^ '"^^^"^ be sup- sixpeaces to sp3nZ ;S°°'Hf wT .?" ''"'^«'' «"^ but he would not change t^^silfer 7^1" ^'^'J ^"^ cro,n>s that were his own ear^C b^?I 'Tl" T^ ''""■ loved them all He «T,™»r«r ^' !^8°"*'" by his labor: he hands in them then hCiSrth?* " ^'^^ '^^ '"'*''«"is ular piles, and felt thtt^J^*™ ""* *«* *bem up in reg- ard ^ge^a^d t Sf^nXlf rhe"" "^^'T ^'' *^«-^ half earned by the woA in TiJ i *^J°^' *^''* ^^^ only born ohildren-ftoulht of ?),« ""' ^ " '^'^ '""^ been un- through the comtg'y^ SZT n^'v T/ """"^^ "'"'^^ &r away before hii,^;nj^± v.^' ^^"^ "^'"^ «P"«^ --ving. -wou:rthirr:sSi:rc£ i S4 SILAS UABITBR ■nd his money when he made his joameys throagh the fields •nd the lanes to fetch and oany home his work, so that his steps never wandered to the hedge-banks and the laneside in searoh of the once familiar herbs : these too belonged to the past, from which his life had shrunk away, like a rivnlet that has sunk far down from the grassy fringe of its old breadth into a little shirering thread, that cuts a groove for itself in the barren sand. But about the Christmas of that fifteenth year a second great change came over Mamer's life, and his history became blent in a singular manner with the life of his neighbors. CHAPTBB ni. Thb greatest man in Baveloe was Squire Cass, who lived in the large red house with the handsome flight of stone steps in front and the high stables behind it, nearly opposite the church. He was only one among several landed puishioners, but he alone was honored with the title of Squire; for though Mr. Osgood's family was also understood to be of timeless origin — the Baveloe imagination having never ventured back to that fearful blank when there were no Osgoods— still, he merely owned the farm he occupied; whereas Squire Cass had a tenant or two, who complained of the game to him quite a£ if he had been a lord. It was still that glorious war-time which was felt to be a peculiar favor of Providence toward the landed interest, and the fall of prices had not yet come to carry the race of small squires and yeomen down that road to ruin for which extrava- gant habits and bad husbandry were plentifully anointing their wheels. I am speaking now in relation to Baveloe and the parishes that resembled it; for our old-fashioned country life had many different aspects, as all life must have when it is spread over a various surface, and breathed m variously by multitudinous currents, from the winds of neaven to the tho"ghts of men, which are forever uoving and crossing each other with incalculable results. Baveloe lay low among the SlLAfl MAROTIR ^B •J«ink freely, •^pXS^t^dT^'T''''''^ *^'' ™^ "^ »<» mysterionBly in refpeoLblelTiiljP^^i^ " *^^«« 'hat ran the rich were entirTln ^^2 Z-^! P«»ttought that besides, their feasting JLS^ a mulh^r'* .*° ^'^'^ " ^'^^^ ««! were the heirloon>s of SZor &f ""^ °* ""^ ''"oh mg of Squire Cass's hams on pilU^s^tT'th^^ ^ ""T""^ """ «uay or snowy weather, when Z, r. S"*"""' '""^«n » the water would rUe t w« w . "^ °° ^'""^8 ^°^ bigh looked forward to rbrlf^e.::^'" ^ 7r^ r '^'^ always contrived in the d.rlT.- "",""" Rround it was work to be don? ^d theSs r^' "'^'^ '^'"' ^« ""!« bors should keep opTn houseT. °°«' *^' "^^^"^ °«i8h- Cass's standing dXs Si^i^r'^T"- ^ ^" "" Squire guests had notLgt dt^„Tto waS a KrV"^*^' ^^ lage to Mr. Osgoc^'. at T«^ ?^. "'^ '"»''" "P the vU- and chines nncnTporkfpie^tiSt^'''' f^^'^^ '°"»d bams spun butter in aU ito f^eh^LIi,^ ^ °' ^^ ^'^ ^ t^^-"' tit«. at leisure coulHeZ In S^«' "^ ^r'' ^^''^ -"PP^- though not in greater 8bund^«^ P«'ba^ greater perfection, For the Souse's wif«ZT^^, ^° " ^l'^^ C«»'8. was without ^t'Lt^'ofl "Z"^' '^'^ *^« ««d House fountain of wholes^ae We .^H T^" "°^ '°°"'" '^'''"l' '« the aud this helped ^Z^llTJ^toTt,'::'': •""' '^'*"^«'" fusion than finished excellence ^tlfrV^f ^^'"« """^ P™' alao for the frequency wiTwhl^'*'^ Po™"""""' »"•* scended to preside inttlparror 2 t, T"!®""" '^'"1«- under the shadow of his iTd^v "^^^^^ ™ther than for the fact that his son^ hl?tu™^ T''°u' ^'^^ ^'^' waanota pla^wh^e L^ IZIT^^U^K^^:-^ tilMi "• SILAS MARNEa thought a weakneas in the Squire that he had kept all hU sons at home in idleness ; and though some leisure was to be allowed to young men whose fathers could afford it, people shook their heads at the courses of the second son, Dunstan, commonly called Dunsey Cass, whose taste for swopping and betting might turn out to be a sowing of something worse than wUd oats. To be sure, the neighbors said, it was no matter what became of Dunsey-a spiteful jeering fellow, who seemed to enjoy his drink the more when other people went dry— always provided that his doings did not bring trouble on a family like Squire Cass's, with a monument in the church, and tankards older than King George. But it would be a thousand pities if Mr. Godfrey, the eldest, a fine open-faced good-natured young man who was to come into the land some day, should take to going along the same road with his brother, as he had seemed to do of late. If he went on in that way, he would lose Miss Nancy Lammeter; for it was well known that she had looked very shyly on him ever since last Whitsuntide twelvemonth, when there was so much talk about his being away from home days and days together. There was something wrong, more thM common— that was quite clear; for Mr. Godfrey didn't look half 30 fresh-colored and open as he used to do. At one tame everybody was saying. What a handsome couple he and Miss Nancy Lammeter would make I and if she could come to be mistress at the Bed House, there would be a fine change, for the Lammeters had been brought up in that way that they never suffered a pinch of salt to be wasted, and yet everybody m their household had of the best, according to his place Such a daughter-in-law would be a saving to the old Squire if she never brought a penny to her fortune; for it was to 'be feared that, notwithstanding his incomings there were more holes in his pocket than the one where he pii as own hand in But if Mr. Godfrey didn't turn over a new leaf, he might say Good-by " to Miss Nancy Lammeter. It was the once hopeful Godfrey who was standing, with his hands in his side pockets and his back to the fire, in the dark wainscoted parlor one late November afternoon in that fifteenth year of Silas Mamer's life at Raveloe. The fading gray light fell dimly on the walls decorated with guns, whips. BnjiB MARKER. 37 choked fire, with i>i~..\ y °*' '^*' »"'i "^ « half- sign, of no:le'']|^S2ra„"h"5? ohunney-corner.: which the look of X™„ .^ any hallowmg charm, with waa in sad l^ordLf^le^^" t?l!*^:^^^ "°°^ '"• theCSnJS'en^rcS"'^^"^ ''^^"^ - ''-d act.' bearing' which mLk tffirsntC ^Lr*"!'"'"'^ *^'''«d Dunsey, and at the sight o7 hit^^rev^?**'""- " '"^ 2:^°' ??./tarH^ -^« --tit^e^SiorS «rt. SertetCtre cS;;^-?/" --e^ ^r'in"a"rkS^-:-t£r^^ ter;.,you know, I w^ .,n^, ^ZZ7,^;ZTLt self been drinking more than was e^^^™ w "^ '"'"' his gloom into nncalcnla^^^,* ..f' t™' ^""f, *" *°" musthand over that rentof fS. u>\h^Z ^ *«" 7°"' I him I gave it von- for h«'. fK ? • ^ ^°"«' <>' «J»e tell it'll au'be out^s^; :He^,';'r^r* *° ''*'""'° '»' ''' "^^ now, before he went^T^l \ .}"" ^ °°'- «« "^^ J»st traii if FowtlZn^tlme i'oat ""v''"' *° ^°^ *^ ^- The Squire's short o' c^^a^ i„^n^ ? '"' T"^ ^^' ^««k- sense; and you know wW^« Z ?'™°' *° '^^ '^7 °on- you making Lay w^LSliLf:^^-'^'^" "^^^ ^« ^^--^ n.oney and pretty quickly, wiS^oX^' ' "*' '^'^ «'* *« er a2d lo^Wng^t'^; f^' ""'If^ ""^-^ °-» *o »"« broth- money yourself, ^d'slftetheSC'ehrSi^:" ^ «■« 80 kind as to hand it over to m. m "' y™ ''*» kindness t. pay it Ir^nieTitTj/ot "^^^^ r,*" made you do it, you know." " ''"* ^^'^ brotherly love I ■''■■' SILAS IUB17X& ^I teU you, he won't lend me any more, and I sha'n't ask "WeU, then, seU WUdfiie." "wrii*^w*"^f^^«- ^"""tl'avethemoneydirecay." ThWif 'J p * °°'^ «°' to ride him to the hunt to-morrow 27:LVJzr ^''*"°« '^'"' ^" -«■ ^-''Hit „ "i ^^ ?*y' *°,f 8«* •««'k ko"'e at eight o'clock, splashed «p to the ohm. I'm going to Mrs. Osgo^'s birthdaV daS!» SIUS KAHNXR 39 •WMt Mi« vT ?'"'" °^"*"« '«»>le. "And there'. ;~^i?«vSrLi.r iL"' '• -^^ *«««' with h.Taid Ld-— " •* °'°«'"y ""f^- «d be tnken mto W? "Hold your tongue about Miu Nancy, vou fooL''«M n~i frey taming red, "elae I'U throttle y^'- ^ '^^ ^^ and mak« V ^!i * '^ *°° ™""'» laudanum some day iTi^irrr'diS i^rit^^^d'""^".'^'' -^'^ good-natured brother, who^ k^TT™ -^^ Jrou've got a you'll be «, very obli^ to hi^"? ^°" '^' '"'''' '^•"«« yoi may go toThe devS ^ '^*'*^" '"""^^^ ""y*^' '"1 the^wM a^^nw '^v*.^' ^"^ °^'^°' ^^ """k. and that ganto rap the window-seat with the handle of his whin Godfrey stood, still with his back to the fi« unS ™„. •ng at the floor. That big muscular frame of his held f I ',1 If ^ aOAB HARNN. plenty of animal oourage, but helptd him to no deoition wh«n tne dangan to be brared were looh aa could neither be knocked down nor throttled. Hi* natural irre«Jution and moral cowar- dice were exaggerated by a position in which dreaded oonse- quenoee leemed to press equally on all sides, and his irritation had no sooner provoked him to defy Dunatan and anUcipate all poMible betrayals than the miseries he must bring on lumself by such a step seemed more unendurable to him than the prejent evil. The results of confession were not contin- gent, they were certain; whereas betrayal was not certain. From the near vision of that certainty he fell back on suspense and vaoiUation with a sense of repose. The dUinherited son Of a small squire, equally disinclined to dig and to beg was almost as helpless aa an uprooted tree, which, by the favor of eurth and sky, has grown to a handsome bulk on the spot where ,t first shot upward. Perhaps it would have been ms- sible to think of digging with some cheerfulness if Nancy Lammeter wen, to be won on those terms; but, since he must irrevocably lose her as well as the inheritance, and must break every be but the one that degraded him and left him without motive for trying to recover his better self, he could imagine °° ™"f '"himself on the other side of confession but that of luting for a soldier "-the most desperate step, short: of smoide, in the eyes of respectable families. Nol he wo-ild rather trust to casualties than to his own resolve— rather go on sitting at the feast, and sipping the wine he loved, though with the sword hanging over him and terror in his hearts than ruah away mto the cold darkness where there was no pleasure lett. The utmost concession to Dunstan about the horse be- gan to seem easy, compared with the fulfilment of his own threat. But his pride would not let him recommence the con- versation otherwise than by continuing the quarrel. Dunstan WMwaitmg for this, and took his ale in shorter draughts than * ,v^*u' just like you," Godfrey burst out, in a bitter tone, "to talk about my seUmg WUdfire in that cool way-the last thing 1 ve got to call my own, and the best bit of horse-flesh I ever had m my Ufe. And if you'd got a spark of pride in you, you d be ashamed to see the stables emptied, and everybody SILAS VABNXIi. 31 ITS? fS"4i*-pi«'i^^"«' '"^'^ '^ ^'^^' ^ H b«J bariMn.'' ^ "' "^""^ "omeDoJy feei h.'d got . For which rn^Ji ^;^ ™°' !!°* P~P^' ^'*' '"^ff*"^ ride him to^hThunt ^^ ^ *°J'' "' »«" Wi'dfi™- I'd ho™ the.Ad'.j^'rsr'thnid^^ '~^'"'' ^* "'■ '^^ « :!*' , ■■y-*™" my home to you I " the money from hS ' k ' ""^ '""™"- ^"^ '«<»ived the Squire ^w„„^t?Jd '°rl'°*.v ^"^~*'' '^'^ J"- ^d chose to be BO oblU.^ «to liiTX f " '''^,"'"' y°" and flog hhn to withS^ in»r?l^ v! ''^P '""' *"" ^Md, could have detoS hS bnt L "' •"' '"' ^"^ ^"^ -ortof fear, whiTlS;, S*ij'"^"'«" get you a penny »* '°" " ^ "^"^ ""^ twenty for him, if I kuowmg whether he wfshed for thf^'ob^^ ^ntt "' """"^ ■Sg-^-%^,i'' Cl'l •■ BILAfl MARNXR It nUght rln if you w«.t«l to go youmlf. Yon n.T.r hoW temnpt, you know_I «]w.y« do. You're got tb. bwtutr you M., .nd I've got th. luck, «, yon murt k«p me Ty^ fo^ dolr'^'^.V""' *""l" •"*" •"y-" •^'* »'«'•'". opening the door. You never knew me Me double when I'd U » bj™ J to make, it 'ud .poil the fun. Beeidea. whenevri fiuT rm warranted to fall on my leg«." i lau, i m o^*'"' **\^J^'.<»n 'l""""'"! the door behind him, and left .^^ V ?" '''"•' rumination on hi. per«,n.l oi^um- stanoe. which wa. now unbroken from day to day wre bv the excitement of .porting, drinking, oard-playing, or the ra^! and le.. obUviou. pleaaure of «eing Mi.. NaSoy iZnrter The mibtle and vaned pain, .pringing from the higher .en.i- biTh«^f/.T'"^r ^'^•"" culture are perhap. lew pitia- ble than that dreary abwnoe of imper«>nal enjoymVnt and oon- wlation which leave, ruder mind, to the perpetual urZt oompanioneh p of their own grief, and dimjonLT^ Thru^L rf those rural forefather., whom we are apt to think very pro! «ic flguree-menwhoM only work wa. to ride round their land gettmg heavier and heavier in their .addle., and who ^::f?Vf.'''*^"'''^''^*^''^'»"-"'««'''8«t^eationo? «.n«. dulled by monotony-h«i a certain patho. in them Z™ *"^ CaUmitie. came to them too, Li their early l^ f 1 ?°°«^"'«"'«"- Perhap. the love of some opened their eye. to the vision of a life in which the day. wL iT?„r. •'°"^' "^^V^'th^"' ""'ing; but the maiden wa. lo.t, and the vuion pa^ed away, and then what waa left to them, eepecially when they had become too heavy for the hunt, or for carrymga gnr over the furrow., but to drink and get mer^, or to drmk and get angry, .o that they might be independent of variety, and say over a,?ain with ej.. ^Lw m the thing, they had wid already any time that twelve- Lt^^^Pi-.v . — v.n riot oouJd never ^ill^ZT^'^'"^""^''"^'- th-ir cheek, were frel S feTth™^'^!,'"" "'«• "''« wmoree, had been plerll t^ft ""' ^T P*^' °' •»"«>» oi iightly put their 1 JuTfe'Tte™ f^^:^ ^'l ''^'^ »»• «» "^i loo«, them; Md undVr Thl^^ " "•""'' "° •'"■W'* ^uld iJl. their tl^oughta ct„d C r„ "'""'"»*"<*•. oommon to u, t«^a.« round^of thr or^.Tt/rz?'-'' ""'•'•'• '^- — helped by thow .™° kdeSble iS^r"' t' rP"°*«°"' ional relation exert. o^^X^J^TZ"'^'^ V"^ P"" Mcret marriage, which wm Tblirt^^n hi^ ^T** r™ ^'° * »gly.to,yonowp.«io„, delueiof^d wi^^ntL ^1 T" "^ which need, not to be drimed fZ,T * " "^•'""•»' bitter memory. He hoH^ T^ *' P'""^ "' Godfrey'. P^yd„eto'^»t^;i'^Chi« h"^.""" ""' 'leIu.ion/J brother'. degr^S^mwri " X. m'L^'^"' "'"' "^ ^ W» hi. jealou, hate and ZcuTdi^ ""•«;. of gratifying at once m him«,lf .imply a lZ^h« ' w^ >^G°dfrey could have into hi, mouth would ha^'ef'J^"'"' ,""" ^'"'^y h«l put the ourae. he mutter«i 1^* atSthrh '°*?'*™''>y- « no other object than DuMton'^LitL, 7" ''°°l^'^ ^""^ lave shrunk less from fh. „ awDohcal ounnmg, he might had«>methinge.roSLlTror'^"''r''^- «"''»• seemed a. m^ and uZ^„S,rLT°"' ^''",^' ''^•«'' '«>'' foUie. and vice, do wZTH" ; *° ^^ «» almoat aU our away. For f^r ye^Jre tT.r^if'T •""" '""S P'*'*'! and wooed her witt^J* l„f^°"«\' °' ^""OJ^ Lammeter, made him think of^e^ „^r^ wTt^Tr^'S' "" "^^ """"" ''^^ and would make home Zlw7^t '^' ?* '"'"''' ^ his wife, never been, and Tt Zuldtf 1 V** v ^'"^"''' ^'"°«' h'S to shake off thos^Sh tbrth'tr'" "" ,""''''' "'»'' only a feverish wav of »n„T n *" ""> pleasures, but essentially domrstfelt^^'tfr"'"^- ^^'^■'- -" an hearth had no . J^"^l\l^ ^ "f .? ^7« -here the chastised by the presence of if™!! n^ I^ ^^'"^ '«" not position mfde hT7m S Zt« f"'- .''" '^^ ^• g mi iaij uj unresistingly with the famUy 84 SILAS MARNER. ilf' i courses, but the need of some tender permanent^tfection, the longing for some inflnenoe that would make the good he pre- ferred easy to pursue, caused the neatness, purity, and liberal orderliness of the Lammeter household, sunned by the smile of Nancy, to seem like those fresh bright hours of the morn- ing when temptations go to sleep and leave the ear open to iJie voice of the good angel, inviting to industry, sobriety, and peace. And yet the hope of this paradise had not been enough to save him from a course which shut him out of it forever. Instead of keeping fast hold of the strong silken rope by which Nancy would have drawn him safe to the green banks where it was easy to step firmly, he had let himself be dragge «^P««ted caress. But Godfrey thrust her away without looking at her, and left the room, followed humbly by the unresentinf Snuff^Zhaps because she saw no other career open to her ^ CHAPTEB IV Dtost^ Cass, setting off in the raw morning, at the iudi- consly quiet pace of a man who is obliged to ride to covir on c^H ..-t°"^'-rf^ ^y*^" P'"" "* "-enclosed ground called the Stone-pit, where stood the cottage, once a^ne- Sf «™f rVr "" fifteen years inhabited bV SUas Marne . The spot looked very dreary at this season, with the moist trodden clay about it, and the red, muddy water high up in the deserted quarry. That was Dnnstan's first thought L he approached it, the second was that the old fool of a weaver, moZ wT, ^^'^'^'^^e o^^iy. had a great deal of cT^ t t"^ Bomewhere. How was it that he, Dunstan n^^ ,. \*f °/^'' ^'^^ *^ °^ ^™«'» "•ioeriiness, had never Aoughtof suggesting to Godfrey that he should frighten » persuade the old feUow into lending the money on the excel- lent security of the young Squire's prospects? The resource 11 1/ SILAS MAKNER a handsome s^LTs Knd ht *' T"«^ '^ ^"^^ <^W turned the horse's leS^toS wf''' •*"* -^' ^ «^'»* be ready enough to a^t S» '^""'- ^^^'^^ ^""'d -gerl/at a p^lJ^th'tXht s^r^^"; '" ''"""^ "'""^ V^rUdfire. But when T^,n«; . , ^™™ P^^U'g "'ith point, the inolLtTon to 1 „Tlw t"'*'''" r'^"^ *^" He didn't want to give (Tdfrl!^! ™°« ^*^ Prevailed, a^at Master GodfreriSt^vt^^'r^ ^e ^reierrei enjoyed the self -imTMitanf «>n7- MoreoTer, Dnnstan aell, and the op^^^^TS^T^ having a horse to and possibly taki^ somebody L H«" '^fr' "^^K*""* irfaction attendant on selw h^a' >, .t^*v' ^*'^ "'^ ""« «"'- less have the furtter satisfeLn^ f^" ' ^°'''' """l »°t «>« M^er's mon™Lt S^n ^o rot? "°^^^ *° ■»"°'' %ht'£i .rg/sjXetr: r f ^"s:i de. diminished ^ KeliSw ll"*^"^' "" "°* *» be Wm-« WadWs mtv;^,?^* ^"^ l'^*'" would not believe of 'S"'"d BrZ^uite't ^°" ':i' r ^'«-'»-'' '•-k other lie in answef ^ ' '"'*' "''*"' ""** ^^^ "^o^W get an- -I'^si^rd^Ev^i^xrTr "^^^ ^-^• you threw yo JTeg JT^ ^"^ T,,","" °' "°<^ » "^^ I've got hii, thouK a bid of ..'^i Jl'^'P ^"'^«' ''"w «>eother da;, W a m^^Je/at Sf '^' '^ '°'''^'" Lord CronUeck-afeUow with a M • ^°~^* " ''"^^8 '""^ waistcoat But I mew to lilt ^1^.}"" '^'^ "^^ " e^'^ •fter at a fence in a wV' th!!' ™- ^ ^'"''n^, get a •he's a bit too weak in the'hindqnartew.-' '^ ™" ""~^ •"** SILAS MARNER 3j only one of „>any human trans^ £"^1 'a&^^^f 8 » You'll be lueky if you getatuSd" " ^"^ -- -rth. ooS&'^ItL'dX' r' ""',''-'«-«<"• became more for a hnnTl^ /!Z. ° '''* purchase of the horse by Brvce fire ^2tf ^"''^' *° ^ P"^ °° the deUvery of S nre, safe and sound, at the Batherlev stable, t/^a to Duusey that it might be wise f or hL t gTve up Z d?" Wildfin> »-k«_ V i ii "go, auu saw tfiat It was all over with Wildfire, than he felt a satisfaction at the absence of wilLT«. M'^k m0 38 SILAS MABNBR u ■i I inuch swearCrhe w^ed Jf <■'' ''i*'' " ""'« brandy and his right hand^^JLfXeh it oLr ^".T^^- *° " ""PP'"" <"" make his wav toXtw7 -A """"""sd t" him that he could member of the hSHur'^°"*^"°«*' °^ ^'=°"»*«"°8any there and riSim^oS;?t?rt?w°,r'°"" " '"^'^ out a gun in his hmd^^^Z / ^ ""^^ '""«'' "''•'■ out of the questroTto^fm i?i .r*^*!^ """^ ^^ "" """'=J> his kind He dM nnf , \ .°'^*' 'P"''*'^ y°™8 men of to Godftey, loAe hadToffrh' ^'»,"i'»'^-8 «»« 'ad news source of^Wrn.rl'^l^ey ^^if G^V'"^*^'' *'«"'■ always did, at the notion "^'i^.t^/^^^ ^J-'^**'. "« he he himself cot the smalUot k * ""*''» "ebt from which wouldn't kicrUgS^f;^,":°\^''--'»«e> why, he frey into anything Tr'^aofMr ^ """"'^ worry God- ing invividress.LwttewStof1rw W°°'^**P* «'°'- the prospect of havine to ™Tt!v '^'""^ immediate; boots of a pedest^Zlt Cf , W'^-^^e with the mudd^ his impatience to be back at Eavelo^^d^"^ out^rf^f °' tous plan; and a casual visitation of his S^t „ ' w """ he was ruminatine awakBnoH i,;. waisteoat pocket, as two or three sS coi^fhTs Irefin ""^ *" ^^^ """ *>"" «>« oftoopaleacolortocover4frsSr^^^^ which the stable-keeper had dSd he I t''" ^^^'"' "^ more business with DLse/cMT Afti ,7 °T ^° "^^ direction in which the Z h^d brotS hiLT"^"'« *° """ very much farther from home tha^ h^^ wa f± Z^f '° but Dunsey, not being remarkable for cll^f^f t«H '^' only led to this conclusion hv tv,„ "^f^^^a of head, was there were other "nsfor^ !^' ^^"^""^ Perception that courseof walking ho^ It 1 '"* ,*^' unprecedented a mist was SS the 3^1,7 "^^'^ *°"- "'"lo^k, and better. Hef^meSedhaCc^stdte"^'"/'/"'''* ^''^ finger-post only a little whSIZo^e wllS^e brov""^ ''"" '^^ with^aself-^f-r-- - -P-^tJ-PS o^h.^^^^ SILAS MARNBR. tiona^ a mode of looomodon m wE" "t""*^ *° "^ «»«P- a desirable corrective to a too fil' * "^^ ^ ^s hand ia uuwontednessinhispoaition anda,nT^ dreamy sense of through the gathering JZ' ^"^ ^°f*"' ^ h« went along somewhere, ft was GodfreVrwh^ ^I'^PP*"* ^" ^hip to take without leave because it W^' "^^"^ ^» '"^ "h^en no one could see, when C^ta^ hef/- rl^.""^^*' °f <»«"« /r«y C7elf in the well-known Kaveloe' !«!•?.'"' »*'«t found a "oal, he silently remarkefSt t^*' """""^ ^^'"8 met IS°od luck. But iow the misf hel^ u'^J"*' °^ ^'•' "^"i ness, was more of a screen 7w tV ■ ^^ **« "e°ws dark- into which his ieet\TluZttl,1' '" '' "'' *« -^ he had to guide his steps byZ^S^h T'^'^S. «> that bMhes in advance of tte heCf ''V^'P '^'"'K the low ttought, be getting near the oS^ "" """* "O"". he shouldfind it out by tie brSi Xl f *^« S*°°«-P't8' he outi however, by another oi^im-J hedgerow. He found it Pected-namelyfbycei^i^ a,.™**"'? '''•'•''' h« had note" i^'-r ^ p'^^^froi'mS'*; "''"'' ^^ P-- cottage and the money hidden wiafn T?/u ""**»«"'• The continually during his walked tV^ I ^^ ^ ^'' "^^^ of cajoling and tLpti^rae^eaver ^ ^'°. '"'"^'^^ ^^r" d^ate possession of his money foTZLr ^' ^'*'' t''* ^^me- Dunstan felt as if there mX ^litUa , T"^« '"*«™''*- the cajolery, for his o^Zi^^.^^^l^^^ '"^<'«'» *° clear enough to afford him ^yfo,dH« T""*'""" ^«" "»» the advantages of interest-?/. T * demonstration as to -=--ly asTmeans oSekt'g a mt T"X'. '^ ^^'^^'^ ^ that he would be paid. SC^h-^ ""'^^ ^"^ ^^'>^'> ■^together, the operation on the mi- 40 SILAS UARNER. =.f < I tl eer 8 nund was a taak that Godfrey would be Bare to hand over to his more daring and cunning brother: Dunstan had made up his mind to that; and by the time he saw the light gleam- ing through the chinks of Mamer's shutters, the idea of a dia- logue with the weaver had become so famUiar to him that it occuned to him as quite a natural thing to make the acquaint- ance forthwith. There might be several conveniences attend- ing this course: the weaver had possibly got a lantern, and Dunstan was tired of feeling his way. He was still nearly three-quarters of a mUe from home, and the lane was beoom- mg unpleasantly slippery, for the mist was passing into rain He turned up the bank, not without some fear least he might miss -ho right way, since he was not certain whether the light were m front or on the side of the cottage. But he felt the ground before him cautiously with his whip-handle, and at last arrived safely at the door. He knocked loudly, rather enioy- mg the idea that the old fellow would be frightened at the sudden noise. He heard no movement in reply: all was si- lence in the cottage. Was the weaver gone to bed, then? If so, why had he left a light? That was a strange forgetftJness in a miser. Dunstan knocked still more loudly, and, without pausmg for a reply, pushed his fingers through the latch-hole intending to shake the door and pull the latch-string up and down, not doubting that the door was fastened. But, to his surprise, at this double motion the door opened, and he found himself in front of a bright fire which Ut up every comer of the oottage-the bed, the loom, the three chairs, and the table — and showed him that Mamer was not there. Nothing at that moment could be much more inviting to Dunsey than the bright fire on the brick hearth: he walked in and seated himself by it at once. There was something in front of the fire, too, that would have been inviting to a hun- gry man, if it had been in a different stage of cooking. It was a small bit of pork suspended from the kettle-hanger by a string passed through a large door-key, in a way known to primitive housekeepers unpossessed of jacks. But the pork had been hung at the farthest extremity of the nanger, appar- ently to prevent the roasting from proceeding too rapidly dur- mg the owner's absence. The old staring simpleton had hot SILAS MAHNER ^ W«doorui.fastfned? Tus^SoVn^' °f Preparation, aa^ ing his way suggested to hC^'. °Z ^*"* f ^"=""7 in fflak- outside his cottage to fetehTnS tr r'^''' ^'^ P^^'-'P'' gone pose, and had slipped into (AeSf^ ^' '°'°^ '"""^ brief pur- eating idea to I>San?lSLf o„Z'- ^''^* ""« '"' i"t«- «lty. If the weaver wmXS J^ ? .^"*"'=*' °^ «"«« nov- Who would know whlre his 1 ^^^ " "«^^ *° ^^^ ""oney? farther mto the subtleties of evidence 1^ -^^ ''*"' "° Where « the money?" now to^t = \ ^."'"°8 question, tim as to make him quite foLtttatth '°''™ ""'"'''"^^ °^ not a certainty. A dull minT ""* weaver's death was that flatters ^iJ^frZi:^^:^?'.^ "' "> '"^~ that the notionfromwhic" L i^„? ™""° *^« impression problematic. And Dunsto's mi^ ' "?'**'* *"«• P^'elj of a possible felon usSyl Ttl "' «*"" ^s the mind places where he had ever teard 7 T ""'^ '^'^' '''"ing- found: the thatch, the bed ^Tf h^^ '^'*T™ ^°" him to retain a believing conception of his own death. This <'<#..•» iR'lC^i., 8ILAB UARNXB. 49 heard of no n.w events to k^r^llil Tv ° r^l^P" "-"^ unexpected and the c^lm^^„"t ^"° ""." ''*•' °* '^^ why hU mind could raf ^e-^o ^^^1° Vl^'^ """"S'' s^Jzr rai^rot^-r^^r^"^^^^^^^ cost him nothing Ctte'iittlt Tn^ ^' ^''"™ '"'"'^'l chose to have it fo^s^lr But^tT*"'"\^'^^''y' =^S^ S^^^ ^f^ - - -^^^ it through thehlmerSlSa^r 'i' 'r"'"'^' P*""^ remembered that a p'^of vertlfl " "*" ^'^8''' ''"^ ^' to his "setting-up -CewJ^ ^- " '-" f '^"P*""*"" themomiM IthJfr ^^T "'^ "" ^"' loom early in from SLmetSltiTH '"1'?'^"^' ^^use, in coming lage; but tToT/^e'by ^^on tirdsTt?~"«^*^-" out of the question. It Was f nLw f ^*^' "'°""'« "«• there were things SUas oTel l^^J^ v ^ °"' "*°' ''"* drawing his pork to the ex^^S o^ A "'^ ''°'^'^' "^ himself with his lantern ^d CL H" ^^V' ""* '™"» in ordinary weather wnXiT T,^^ ^'' "*" ""' "n 'l-"*. tia«i "■ 8ILA8 MABNEB. »„Iin r k""';'**' "* ^••'- «• *«^ "bo"* the floor whUe p»ttu>g by hi. antem and throwing „ide hi. hat «.d ^, mark, of h,. own nailed booU. Then he mored hi. Dork toX^V" '7' '5' "* •**"'" *» ""• agreeable1n.iLe.n5 tendmg the meat and wanning i imself at the same time. hi/^LT V ^°°'""* " ''*'" " *'"' '^ "81" "J""'' upon ™,h^.n! J ' r«* ''*"'^^« "y*"' "<> '»««8re form, wo^ perhaps have underrtood the mixture of oontemptuou. pityT ^J^^ TP"""" ''''^ ''Wch he wa. regarded by hii neighbors m Baveloe. Yet few men could be more harLe.. than poor Mamer. In hi, truthful .imple soul not ev^Z growmg greed and wor,hip of -old oo^dd beget Z vice directly ^juraou. to others Tb. Ught of hi. tU quL puJ out and h.. affections made desolate, he had clung with all the force of h>. nature to hi. work and hi. moneyfand li^ aU object, to which a man devotes himself, they hTdfaehioned him rnto corre.pondence with thsmgelve.. Hi. loom, a. he and confirmed more and more the monotonous craving for it^ monotonous rehouse. HU gold, a. he hung over it Ld .aw UtrnlikS::^''' ^'" "^ ^°^'°« *"«««"» -to « ^^ - As iraon a. he was warm he began to think it would be a long whJe to wait till after .uppTbefore he iev out hi^ gumeas, and ,t would be pleasant to «e them on the table h. !^n. /l-^" ?^ ^" unwonted feast. For joy is the best of ^ine, and Silas's gumea. were a golden wine of that .ort. He rose and placed his candle unsuspectingly on the floor near hi. loom, swept away the «tnd VTthout noticing .^ 1^/t' Z 'tT^*** ^' ''™'"- '^^« "'Rht of the empty hole made his heart leap violently, but the belief that hi. gold was gone could not come at once-only terror, and the ea^r effort to put an end to tte terror. He paswd his tremblin?hand a5 Sw*'^'v°^''.^'"l**°*'^'' *' possible that his eyes had deceived hun; then he held the candle in the hole and exam- ined it curiously, trembling more and more. At last he shook SILAS MARNER 4f of reality ^ * " ** *^® strongest assurance s^rrreSj^t j:i: si^ii/rs- - 1 "'* ^t:^iS«:°tr:n;x-^^^^^^^ ltSn.t '' T'' ''."' ~'° ^"^ •" "P°- hir^X h ** SILAS MABNSR. oome? During Siki't abMaae in the daytim* the door W been looked, and there had been no marki of any inroad on his return by daylight. And in the evening, too, he laid to him- leU, everything waa the lame ai when he had left it. The •and and brick* looked a» if they had not been moved. Wa, It a thief who had taken the bags? or waa it a cruel power that no hands could reach which had delighted in making him a •econd time desolate? He shrank from this vaguer dread, and Sxed his mind with struggling effort on the robber with hands who could be reached by hands. His thoughu glanced at all the neighbors who had made any remarks, or asked any ques- taons, which he might now regard as a ground of suspicion There was Jem Rodney, a known poacher, and otherwise dis- reputable : he had often met Mamer in his journeys across the holds, and had said somethbg jestingly about the weaver's money; nay, he had once irritated Mamer, by lingering at the fire when he called to light his pipe, instead of going about his business. Jem Rodney was the man-there was ease in the ttought. Jem could be found and made to restore the money • Marner did not want to punish him, but only to get back his gold which had gone from him, and left his soul like a forlorn t«veUer on an unknown desert;. The robber must be laid hold of. Mamer's ideas of legal authority were confused, but he felt that he must go and proclaim hU loes; and the great peo- ple in the village— the clergyman, the constable, and Squire " Cass- would make Jem Rodney, or somebody else, deliver up the stolen money. He rushed out in the rain, under the stim- ulus of this hope, forgetting to cover his head, not oaring to fasten his door; for he felt as if he had nothing left to lose He ran swiftly, till want of breath compelled him to slacken his pace as he was entering the village at the turning close to the Rainbow. The Rainbow, in Mamer's view, was a place of luxurious resort for nch and stout husbands, whose wives had superflu- ous stores of linen; it was the place where he was likely to find the powers and dignities of Raveloe, and where he could most speedUy make his loss public. He lifted the latch, and turned into the bright bar or kitchen on the right hand, where the less lofty customers of the house were in the habit of as- SILAB MARNKR. 47 ••inbling, the parlor on the left being referred for the mnr. double pleasure of conviviality and oond!«en.ion. But th' ■ttl'L '^■'"»^Jl' ^' ='"''' P«"on^fe. who ornament S .. ^' "^ "• con«Kiuence of thi., the party on the h gh-soreened «,at. in the kitchen wae niore nuZou. thl ZhJ, T^k P""?""*"' 'l"" "ould otherwi.e have been ad- mitted into Uie parlor and enlarged the opportunity ofT«(^- fvL^t r'^^'r' '" ^^" betters, being Ltent^L wXwh^ '!7 *''«",f J"?"""' by taking their epirito-and CHAPTER VI. ,h!^ai? "I: 1^'°^ """ »' » '''8'' PitoJ" of animation »hen Silaa approached the door of the Rainbow, had, ae uauX b^n slow and intermittent when the company first ^m^ed^ The pipes began to be puffed in a silence which had an air of Mverity; the more important customers, who drank spirit, and sat nearest the fire, staring at each other aa if a be ^^ % --"ng on the first man whowinked; while the bee^S era, ^uiefly men in fustian jackets and emock-frooks kent aa If their draughteof beer were a funereal duty attended with embarrassing sadness. At last, Mr. SneU, tte lan<^rd a hZ^ .r*"^ disposition, accustomed to 'stand aloof frim hrcousiiXbui:^""'''' "' "'^^^ ^ " '^""'"^^ *-" *° telTL'S '"' "' ''"* '" " ^^ *"■"' ^0" ^™^ - y«- no,^H^^*°''"' ' ^"ly- ■"""'"8' "^-l^aiied man, was not dis- posed to answer rashly. He gave a few puffs b;fore he spat, and replied, " And they wouldn't be fur wrong, John." Aft., *^., fg<,ye a^i^i^g jj,^^^ y,^ ^j^^^ ^^ . as before. svertly •• SILAS UARNZR. f.,"^"/^* ^ Durham?" said the farrier, taking up the thread of discourse after the lapse of a few minute*. .^"^^ ^°°^^ " **"* landlord, and the landlord looked of M^^rin " ^"°° '^° °""' ^^ *^' responsibility "Bed it was," said the butcher, in his good-humored husky treble—" and a Durham it was." "Then you needn't teU me who you bought it of," said the famer, looking round with some triumph; "I know who it is has got the red Durhams o' this country-side. And she'd a fon^ard with his hands on his knees as he put this question, and his eyes twmkled knowingly. " Well; yes-she might," said the butcher, slowly, consid- enng that he was giving a decided affirmative. " I don't sav oontrairy." ■' "I knew that very well," said the farrier, throwing himself backward agam, and speaking defiantly; "if / don't know m. Lammeter-s cows, I should like to know who does-that's ^. And as for the cow you've bought, bargain or no bargain, I ve been at the drenching of her-contradick me who wUl " The fMTier looked fierce, and the mild butcher's conversa- tional spint was roused a little. "I'm not for oontradicking no man," he said; "I'm for p«ice and quietness. Some are for cutting long ribs-I'm for cutting 'em short myself; but /don't quarrel with 'em. All I say IS, It 8 a lovely carkiss-and anybody as was reasonable, It ud bring tears mto their eyes to look at it." "Well, it's the cow as I drenched, whatever it is," pursued the f^er, angrily; "and it was Mr. Lammeter's cow, else you told a he when you said it was a red Durham " ' I teU no lies, " said the butcher, with the same mild huski- ness as before, "and I contradick none-uot if a man was to awear himself black: he's no meat o' mine, nor none o' my targams. Alll8ayis,it'salovelycarkiss. And what I say ru stick to; but I'll quarrel wi' no man." ^ "No," said the farrier, with bitter sarcasm, looking at the company generally; "and p'rhaps you ar'n't pig-headed; and p rhaps you didn't say the cow was a red Durham : and p'ihaps BILAfl MABNEB. 49 7«m didn't saj she'd got a star on her brow-stiok to tw now you're at it." """w— eraoK to that, J^^T^^'^"'^^^^^^' "let the cow alone. The trnth lies atween you: you're both right and both wL« a^ My nottmg to that, but this I say, as the sS^s the riett^s? rirri:?^^^ rt^ r^irstdt^^rwSen^-^^^^^^ Mr. Maoey, taUor and parish olerk, the latter of which functions rheumatism had of late obUiid him tn -ho -^i sm^-featured youngman who sal o^SS^Ud" /^^t: h^ on one side, and twirled his thJmbs with an l^'o^ plaoency, slightly seasoned with criticism. He smij^ ^Z. laid hv'nTJ ^''^' ^"^ ' ''"* ^ '•* "tl*" folks talk. I're Sn to «cwf .^^ ?P *° ?"' y°»"8 "»»• Ask them as have ^e u/S^^J^^f = *^"'^'- >"■-* PO— ing, tha';: olert w^a'^ ^l^^" '* ""■' "^'^ ^'^^'" """l «"« deputy ' I taw wli«t', rtgbt, nor only io, But alio ixicun mut I taow.' " "Well, the;^ I wish you'd keep hold o' the tune, when it's set for you; if you're for prac«ring, I wish you'd p^l' S«hti^his\«f r™"''"^'"u« ""^' "« exLuent'X" Zf, ^ ^fek-day capacity, but on Sundays leader of the comm J?""?' *?•" "^^P"*^ ''^«*' '^° «l««ed the unpopularity common to deputies, turned vexy red, but replied, ^^7^1 RnL^ , ''?"«' ^ "" "°' the man to say I won't a^ But there's^people set up their own ears for a stanl^d, S 1'f|ll| hill w SILAS UABNBR a ;( ■,,(; expect the whole choir to follow 'em. There may be two opinions, I hope." •' thii1.^k ?"'^ ^■:^'^' '^° '*'* '"'y '«" """fiod with T^v! !^ , ^°f^ presumption; "you're right there, lookey = there's alUys two 'pinions ; there's the 'pinion a ma^ £ TWH',!rlJ*r.'''. *^* 'P^i°» <^« '""ks have on S'coJJhL'iSei?" '"""" "'*"'* " "^"''^ »«"• ^ *^« " WeU, Jtr. Maoey," said poor Tookey, serious amidst the general aughter, "I undertook to partiaUy fill up t^ office o? parish clerk ^ Mr. Craokenthorp's desiref whenerer yt^ i^' tZy. ■ • "^' r" ""^"^8' "^^ "'« --"Of tte rights X^ifr-""* ""^'' "^"^-""^ '''■y'^'- y"-* '1°'"' «>« «^e B«'n w- f^* *** °W gentleman and you are two folks," said Ben Wintl^op. "The old gentleman's got a gift, my, the Squu, used to mvite him to take a glass, only to he J him Sf X^^^r.'\ •''^'* ^'^ ^ "-"^y? It's a naS gift. There's my litUe lad Aaron, he's got a gif^-he c^ sing = tune off straight, like a throstle. B^t a. fMrou mT « weU enough when you keep it up in your nose. It's your kw sLTk.^ "* °^'' ^ """""= '**' "° ^^' """ » l^ol- fo™!!* ^v*^ of unflinching frankness was the most piquant form of joke to the company at the Eainbow, and Ben Win- ^p's msult was felt by everybody to have capped ^Z- oey s epigram. «I see what it is plain enough," said Mx. Tookey, unable L 7.r\. ""^ '"Tv- " '^^'^'' » <»>^Pe™oy to turn me out o' the choir as I shouldn't share the Chriatias money-! Pll „%'t'"' i* "■ ?"* I "1^ speak to Mr. CrackenthJrp; 1 11 not be put upon by no man. " ^ "Nay, nay, Tookey," said Ben Winthrop. "We'll nav you your share to keep out of it-that's what we'll do^ There's things folks 'ud pay to be rid on, besides varmin." Come, come," said the landlord, who (elt that paying peo- ple for their absence was a principle dangerous to i,ciel^;Va loke's a loke. We're aU good friend, here, I hope We joke'i SILAS UABNEB. 51 w»„V« T ^- ^"" "• '»"' "8^' '^^ yoo'^e both wrong, aa I say. I agree wi' Mr. Maoey here, ae there's two opmions; and if mine was asked, I sho'uld say they "e to^ right. Tookey's right and Winthrop's righ( and they^ve only got to split the difference and make them^lves even?' t^Jn^" J!""^-"'^ ?",'^? ^^ ^'^ rather fiercely, in some con- Slf ."■ ^"^ discussion. He had no ear for muste himself, and never went to church, as being erf the medical BuftheTutc"^' T'^ *" '*.^. "^'^•''°" *" delicate ^w^ But the butcher, having music in his soul, had listened with a Srjface •' '" '"^""'''^ "^'^^ -"^ *°' ^^^ pre^^a^o? toJir^l'* '""'" ^l ""4''. /""owing up the landlord's conoilia- ^t fid^r :r^'' ""* «°* " ''"'*^" "^ " l^ownforU" tot fiddler m this country-side. Eh, it's a pity but what Solomon lived in our village, and could give us a tune wC Z n^.v' "^Mr. Macey? I'd keep hiS in liver ^d 1^ for nothing— that I would." '^ "Itt^uX'^^- ^'7' ^ ^^ ^*'8^* °* complacenoyj onr family's been known for musioianers as far back as any- body can tell. But them things are dying ouras I teUMo- mon every time he comes round; the«'s no voil hke St there used to be, and there's nobody remembers^haTwe re- member, rf it isn't the old crows." " Ay, you remember when first Mr. Lammeter's father come mto these parte, don't you, Mr. Macey?" said the ?«moT "I should think I did," said the old man, ,vho had now gone trough that complimentary process necessary to brin^ h™ « ^"'*i'l narration; "and a fine old ^ntlemai he was-as fine, and finer nor the Mr. Lammeter !I no7^ He came from a to north'ard, so far as I could ever make out But there's nobody rightly knows about those parts: only i coul^ t be far north'ard, nor much different fro^is ^un- try, for he brought a fine breed o' sheep with him, so there must be pastures there, and everything reasonabte w" beared tell as he'd sold his own land to l,me and t^e Ae Warrens, and that seemed odd for a man as had 1^^, ^ own, to come and rent a farm in a strange place. But th^ >'W i ' * SILAS MABNEB. reasons straight off, and aU &« whn^'k ^ , ^ ^°° ^^ lights and customs o' thinm anH ir.^ . _ j v ® helped hun mafry 'em " ^mmiow as was, I landlord, m a congratulatory tone. ""^^gei" said the have ans man to thy wedded wiie?' says he anffhen h^ ZsU^BS2'"''tf^^'"''^ *° th/wed^deThusi?' says ne. Jjut the partio'larest thine of all i« .. „„v^j^ V i^e^ "i? °t L'aS"r ' -^ ^^ --^^ "^ShtS^yr,"^ ^i:t f.iL«'to^:Lrw:K^» ' " ""^ ^^«^* ^^- Mr Macr?^r '''"'* T*" ^^« °° "«" """"Sl'. -didn't you, Mr. Macey? You were hre enough, eh? " said the butcher II ?- ^:f*v.«:^ SILAS HARKIB. gg makes folks tZ V w^"W ' F» T*^"" °' "^^ ""^^ "^ and the bride and'briSUL n,!St righrBu^r tf*" Icometo think on it, n^eanin' goes bufa liS w^ri- 1'.^^ things, for you may mean to stick things tomth«r La glue may be bad, and then where are Z? C LTL^»T mysen, ' It isn't the meanin', it's the dne • 77^^ ^ *° «ted as if I'd got three bells ^puU a^once,^;^^ Z; w^etthT^^' n^,*^•-«- *» ««» thiir i^el^T aaid^s: rrdi^d' "^ "■ -^ *'''*' '"^'* ^-. ^- ^y?- »nH fif ' ^''*''i ^.,**«'' " ^ ''" ''y "lye" wi' Mr. Drumlow and then I out wi' everything, but respectful, as I aZr^' And he made Ught on it, and he savs • Pooh ^v-T m make yourself ^y,' he savs- ' it'?n«it>.o !i ^ ' ^''^' thawn.^. -ij rr' "osays, It 8 neither the meanine nor Zl rt7 ."■"'* ™^'«**' '^°«'' it-tiat's the glue.' So you mil's ae«tf "1 r°"«' " ^^^"^ »» I'" »'««° '^y and many s the tame. And sure enough the wedding tumai out ^as!Sed°2«T f"- '^'^o^^-t^-^'o Mis! S^d L Ih .!5v •** '**'*' ""^ «'°^^ »P= but for prSperitv SvJ^'l "^/m^^"' *^^"''' "^ f AmoreSron/^ Every on. of Mr. Macey's audience had heard this stonr many times but t was listened to as if it had beenrLS Slsllfd'^rt't^ thepuffingof the pipes was mo^^^ •«ruy suspended, Jiat the listeners might eive thpir »i,„i« mmds to the expected word.,. But thefe wHore to ™m ' and Mr. Snell, the landlord, duly put the leading queLT T':m§^' 1 M SILAS UAHNXB. .J^^' u** ^- ^*»°'«*«^ J«d a pretty fortin, didn't ther say, when he come into these parts?" ^ as'Z MrT'" "^^f ^■?^^- "but I dare say It's a. much Jl«^i .^,V ^"t**J " '*°°'' *° '""'P '* "•'olo- ^°' there was ^? 1. J\" ""'^y '""^'^ 8"* ""^^ °° ""> Warrens : ttongt he holds It cheap, for it's what they oaU Charity Lank » * Ay, and there's few folks know so weU as you how it aTt Mr r]^^' ^ grandfather made the grooms' livery for that Mr^lifl a, came and built the big stables at the War- rens. Why, they're stables four times as big as Sauire cZZ for he thought o' nothing but bosses and h^t" Jc^ ffi -a Won taUor some folks said, as had gone mad wi' TZt- TmZ ^^ ""ii'^v' "^"^ ^°' "•""■ y°"' ^07 "id he'd ™t no more^ip o'-the boss than if his le^ had been oross-sticr iT^t A w.'"' ""'^^ "" " Old Haiy had been a-d^^ ^ ™ / ;.' ^i? "^^ •"* ^* "»"* "de and ride-tho^e ^tl^ f"«htened, they said. And it was a oommonTi^g T^a^^^T^ *° "i" *« tailor onto' the lad, andS a genUeman on him-not but what I'm a tailor mvsolf but in tailor.' 's been wrote up over our door since afore the Queen^s heads went out on the shillings. But Cliff, he was ashZd o' being caUed a tailor, and he was sore ve'xed J^hU^^a IZilt '^ *"" ""'"'^ °J *^' «'"'««*°1'" ^^^^ ^d ^«d fh-T;^ ^"T,""'^". the poor lad got sickly and died and the father didn't Hve long after him, for he ^t qnZ^v nllwi''^ i„*;^ "^' ^' r^ *° «°^' •' *»>« dLd'rz o' Uehfl K ^? •? •"' '"'"'^' *° •*« ^t^Wes, and set a lot o lights burning, for he got as he couldn't sle^pj and the™ he d stand cracking his whip and looking at his bosses a^d ^'thTt:^r''drbr"i " ''^ ^'""^^ ^^^'^ ««* "'^"do^ ,W 7^^ ^ dumb oreaturs in 'em. But at last he died rav- mg, and they found as he'd left all his property, Warrens ^d S'cWitTrd''^f V f"''" ''"^ *h« Warrens cle to be Charity Land; though, as for the stables, Mr. Lamaeter m%^ .fft •"•- Sn^ XASNXR. gg thunder iJro'Zi£Z^^<^ "" ""' " '■"* ««»'l '*• mg o' the hossea, nor the o«ikta/^l« T ^**' "■« '"*°>P- too. if it'8 tow'ri daybreak™". c^^,*l«jj'l«; ?^^ ''°'li"6 name of it ever sin' I were a bov thLw "^ ' has been the It was the holiday Old H.,^ t- ' ^ '"y' *°°e ""d as That's what myfler toS^r/hi^^'" """*^«' "''«'■ though there's folk9nowa,UirwiK Tk ' reasonable man, were^rn better nor i^e^Z^j'ot'Z^::^ f^"' *"^ pro'Jd ot^l'^lt^ °'"^"^"' ''^''^' ^ «■" --P-r. and wa. ey«'to look Ta^;:: "T It" "^ ?? •''^'* "''-* ''" «ny man ten pound, tf he^«t.n^ 7{' ". ° '^^'^^ •» "ager the pasture beforelhe Warr^lhri '' ""■ ""^ '''^ "'8hrL Ughts nor hear nois«. if u Wt S Wow' '''^'^^ "•''*^«' "«• That's what I say, «.d ryeUd^! ""'««' °" "^ "«>«• nobody 'uU ventui a ten-pi^f^otl ""^J ". *^«! ^ut there', make so sure of." ^ ** °° **""■ «rhos'es as they th~p^'^' ?::XKrif tt""*^' ^^^ "-" -«^ «~ wm. the rheumatise if he stood ^J W.nlT^,^' "t '^'' "*'*'' night. It 'nd be fine fun for « n,^ . -^^ P"^' °* » *«»tr oatoh the rheumatise Foth as S^.r^''" ^^^^ ^ « I"''* aren't a-going to ventnrne^- if S! ' '" ^^^^f'" Holiday "If IfastefDoX wa^^to knn \T''' °' *^° '^""'i-" Maoey, with a sarZHmile ^Z *\*'"''' °° '*" " '«^•« "As if ghoe'es 'ud want to be believeH in k, u ^ JgnirantI" said Mr Maoev in ^.. !■• °^ ""ybody so ■■ ■ — CHAPTEB VII was suddenly seen afun^i^/ • i.i "»"" M HUas Marner word, butlooki^7„^;rL ^o™" ""'",^8^ "tto^g »o •arthly eyes The W w """Pany "ith hi. strange un- like i:i2r^i^:fSTz:ut^^:^^'^ "'"^•^ Bot excepting eyen the ^epS W C^ """ ^"^^ that he saw, not Silas Mimiir in fk a ,: T^ *° 'mpression his soul went loose from his ^yT ^ere^^thaT °' ^ tion: neyertheleiiiL nn tK» _k i v """^ ^** the demonstra- contented Xrr Fo, « ?^ *" '"^'^ ^*^- »^° «« -«" silence, l&merTwLt rf b^« "T""*" *^*«' "«' » dead himtospeT ThX^„,ST*^ "^t !8^*»«°" "o* allowing was bonn"^ to k^p hU S o^^to^,^''*^ ««"« '^' ^- Kobbedl'-saidSUas, gaspindv «t'„ J^ l,. 3. Tf ant the constable iinrt *!.- t i- " ^ ™ n«en robbed I Mr. CracCnthoi .r""** ""^ Justic^and Squire Cass-and \ if SILAS MARMZR. "Me stole your monejrl" gaid Jem, uwrflT "I'll «i».k thu can at yonr eye if you talk o' ^Tjtlv^' ^^*^ << n«»,. 1^7 ' ^^ ° "y Btealmg your monav »' Oome, oome. Master M»m<»- » ..ij tv i •'"" """'y- yourself, «.d speak .tralghT^^it«"*- «.'* ^"^ <^^ dry W you^t^pw for7»^*^* and aoreaming, el«, we'U n«j;.tt.eirt^°L:x?£ran..r^^..r''^^ -"^'^ weU ri;Zd^t'.^^ ",*1"^'" '*^'^ '^^•"a' ^"c^' at once, jZtion " "^^ "'^''^ °' «'««*' ""gained still an open t.eeire.rdtd'Sri^^'r.eTr'i-rrt:; »' « •n^ tUSSMR. gf own, and feeling the Dregencn nf f..-. j • "^^rtn not his Mamer, in .pit, Jhi^J?j=P'^»'* '*''"''"•" i" influence on Our co„~iouL«7^dr^rti^ ?hT^"?'*^.°" Tf '^^ '"-• r bur • "^ *'•' -'' ''«'- - ^^^' .-.^ersi^ of hie Kr'^^t w.^ "!!f.M T ^■^t «>°^«oing simplicity thatMamr^asteuKn^S'n"^;!^' °"«''^'' *° ""'^ We of arguin* at on« W, f^ ' J^^ ^^"^ ^"y "«" ""Pa- were not likdy toK„„!t^"„" """^ *" '^*"' ^ ^^ok '«m from the stoZe fact ttfttt Ktl^'/^" '^^ K-^her, had happem^to wlentt ^,1^' ^^ ^^f* "" *™°'"'' "«» mortal '.K.wht^Iii":Sd1^":;"'^''y*r'^<=>^»W by looking his diop rt« m7 ? ^ *^ ^""° *■<»»» without thaS d;:r2pT4Srr.rin'S,!:ir- r*^ ^.^e ed. had been broken nr, .^j *w • ^^^^^'> " ^ erer exist- '^^MWM.m 60 BILAS MARNIR. Mt the coniUble after. Why thU pntwutnnl Mob ihould be obUged to wait till tli« door wm left unloeked, wm • qaei- tioD which did not preeent itulf . " It iwi't Jem Rodney ai hu done thia work. Maiter Mar- ner, " laid the landlord. " You moatn' t be a-oaiting your eye at poor Jem. There may be a bit of reokoning against Jem for the matter of a hare or ao, if anybody was bound to keep their eyes staring open, and nirer to wink but Jem's been a- sitting here drinking his oan, like the deoenteat man i' the parish, since before you left your house, Master Mamer. bv your own aooount." "Ay, ay," said Mr. Maoey; "let's hare no accusing o' the innioent That un't the Uw. There must be folks to swear again' a man before he oan be ta'en up. Let's have no aoons- Ing o' the innioent. Master Mamer." Memory was not so utterly torpid in Silas that it could not be wakened by these words. With a movement of compunc- tion as new and strange to him as everything else within the last hour, he started from his chair and want close up to Jem looking at him as if he wanted to assure himseU of the ex- pression in his face. J'^ J" nZ"^'" ^* "^id-'-yes, yes-I ought to have thought There's nothmg to witness against you, Jem. Only you d been into my house oftener than anybody else, and so you oune into my head. I don't accuse you-I won't accuse •nybody-only," he added, lifting up his hands to his head, and turning away with bewUdered misery, "I try— I try to think where my guineas can be." "Ay, ay, they're gone where it's hot enough to melt 'em I doubt," said Mr. Maoey. "Tchuhl" said the farrier. And then he asked, with a W088-examming air, "How much money might there be in the bags. Master Mamer? " "Two hundred and seventy-two pounds twelve and six- pence, last night when I counted it," said Silas, seating him- self again, with a groan. "Pooh! why, they'd be none so heavy to carry. Some feamp s been m, that 's all; and as for the no footmarks, and the bricks and the sand being aU right-why, your eyes are mmmrmarmm c £jf7>f!:.ciPB flLAB MAIUnR. ptrttjr maoh like • ioMof i, MMter Muner; they're obliged to look 10 cloM, 70a Mu't Me mueh at a time. It's my opinion ••, if I'd been yon, or you'd been me— for it oomee to the •une thing— you wouldn't hkve thought you'd found erery- thing u you left it But what I rote U, m two of the Muii- bleit o' the company ihould go with you to Maeter Kenoh, the oonaUble'f— he', ill i' bed, I know that muoh-aud get him to appomt one of ui hii deppity; for that', the law, and I don't think anybody 'ull take upon him to contradiok me there. It un't much of a walk to Kench'a; and then, if it's me as U deppity, I'll go back with you, Maiter Mamer, and examine your premiiei; and if anybody's got any fault to find with that, I'll thank him to itand up and say it out like a man." By this pregnant speech the farrier had re-established hU self-complacency, and waited with confidence to hear himself named as one of the superlatively sensible men. "Let us see how the night is, though," said the landlord, who also considered himself personally concerned in this prop- osition. " Why, it rains heavy still, " he said, retuminu from the door. "Well, I'm not the man to be afraid o' the rain," said the farrier. "For it'U look bad when Justice Malam hears as respectable men like us had a information laid before 'em and took no steps. " The landlord agreed with this view, and after taking the sense of the company, and duly rehearsing a small ceremony known in high ecclesiastical life as the no/o epiieopari, he con- sented to take on himself the chiU dignity of going to Kench's. But to the farrier's strong disgust, Mr. Macey now started an objection to his proposing himself as a deputy constable; for that oracular old gentleman, claiming to know the law, stated, as a fact delivered to him by his father, that no doctor could be a nonstable. "And you're a doctor, I reckon, though you're only a cow- doctor— for a fly's a fly, though it may be a hoss-fly," con- cluded Mr. Macey, wondering a little at his own '' 'oateness." There was a hot debate upon this, the farrier being of course indisposed to renounce the quality of doctor, but con- 'Ik S!i=, m * SILAS UABNBB. tending that a doctor oonld be a oomrtable if he liked-the ^l^^t ""^ '"^'* ^ <»• « I'e didn't like. ^MsZ thought tlu. was noDMnse, «noe the law wae not likely toS Z^J ^"tor. than of other folks. Moreover, if .7w„ Tn ^n.rJ?" °t '^'*'°" """^ '^ °* °*" »•» "»' to like being ^^^IdSr '^'' *"• ''"'^ '^ »* •» ««er to «rt in that intZ^°°'' T!u*? "* *^*' ««"'*»"«.» said the farrier, driven ^to a comer by tius meroileM reasoning; "and there's no man can say It of me, if h.'d tell the truth. But if there's to be any jealousy and en„j,u.g about going to Kenoh's in the rain, Irt them go a. like iU-you won't get me to go, I can teU By the landlord's interrention, however, the dispute was «»ommodated. Mr. Dowlas consented to go as a second pe" ^ndismchnedtoact officially, and so po^r SiUs, fumtaW with some old coyermgs, turned out with hi. two companions mto the ram again, thinking of the long ni^t-hours before t^'':^/^'"'"""^*''^ buta^osewho^" to watch for the morning." ft CHAPTER Vni. Whet Godfrey Cass returned from Mrs. Osgood's party at Budnight, he was not much surprised to learn that Dunsey had not come home. Perhaps he had not sold WUdfire, and was h«"h^*„ f ""fr ''^T'^'^^ on that foggy afternoon, he had preferred housing hin^self at the Bed Lion at Batherley f .r the nighty if the run had kept him in that neighborhood; for he was not likely to feel much concern about leaving his brother m suspense. Godfrey's mind was too full of Nancy Lammetor's looks and behavior, too full of the exasperation against himself and his lot which the sight of her a Ws pro- duced in hun, for him to give much thought to Wildfire or to the probabilities of Dunstan's conduct. The next mmning the whole village was excited by the •tory of the robbery, and Godfrey, like every on- e!«s was ^ff SILAS JIARNBa 6t ooonpied in gathering and disonsging newi about it and i,. the ,pot had djsoloeed, a the direction opporite to thfrilW atiadex-box, with a flint «.d teel. half ^Elll^^t Z f « 1^^- *^"'"'-'»'' f" the only one he had ev» hJd waastiU standing on hi. ahelf, and the inference ™nTX accepted wa., that the tinder-box in the ditoH^ Zml^l ejected with the robbery. A »aaU minorii^^hoolTS heads, and mtnnated their opinion that it wasTot a Vobh^ to have much light thrown on it by tinder-boxes, that iS Marner-s tale had a queer look wi. it, and S sul^^' h^ been known as a man's doing himself a mischief, and^l! setting the justice to look for the doer. But iv ..en aZti^ closely as to their grounds for this opini^i, and whTS Mamer had to gain by such false pretends, thej o^lCJ their heads as before, and ob«rv«i tiiat there wm m l^o!^„ a right to their own opinions, grounds or no grounds, and that the wearer, as everybody knew, was partly or^. Z^i^ though he jomed in the defence of Marner^iJ^l^: oions of deceit, also pooh-poohed the tindeXTindeeT^ that everything must be done by hnman hands, and that a^ w« no power which could make away with tte^S^ JS^ SL^lvTv ' ^''^ I^e^Mess, he tu»«l*3^rXr tSf ^ ^f v'^' "•'^ '^o «*>°« deputy, feeling ttS oam«l ,t stiU farther, and doubted whether it was right to mylrio^s " ""'"'^ "' *"' ''•° """ "i^^'tances wLe ^ JltlY '^"^^'^ "'• Tookey_«as if there was nothing but what «,ald be made out by justice and constables." ' ..-.,«' ^*' y°° **'" overshooting the mark, Tookev » "^a^ w*"*^', "^f^ ''^ head^aside adm^IS th^^wT^ ""^ ^°" " '^y' at; if I throw a stone and hT™ ihmk there's summat better than hitting, and you try to tiJ^w «ud nothmg agwnst justices and constables, for tiwy're o' ili •• SILAS MAKWBR. King Grorge'. making, and it 'nd be ill-beooming a man in a pansh office to fly out again' King George " « ■ ""^ "^ » o„3^i't,!^T'^''""'T """ «°^ °° "^""KBt the group onts.de the Eainbow, a higher conBultation waa being oiSed ZZ ^'- Z^t^ "»« P'^Bidency of Mr. Crackenthorp, the ,wl' T?^^''?' ^"™ ^"" "^^ °'^" substantial p i» 1^ ears, though I can't take upon me rightly to say " wr^M ^°*" Tfs correct in his surmise, that somebody else would remember the pedler's ear-rings. For on the spread of inquiry among the villagers it was stated with gathering em- phasis that the parson had wanted to know whether the ped- ler ^ore ear-rmj^ u. his ears, and an impreesion was created SILAS MARNEH. 65 that 8 great deal depended on the eliciting of this fact ot ~n«e. every one „ho heard the question, nofhltSg^, ^. she meant to take the sacrament the very^t cSm" Zt was ever coming, that she had seen bigTar-rings,t iTe ri.tS oltS ^e'^^M T'.^ ^ ^^'^^ twoearsVwhii: jtn"? Oates aie cobbler's daughter, being a more imaginative oer- h.^L''^ '"^n* V'^'-'^K further Ught on this clew of the Kth^'^H,r"r*'°'? '"l""'^^ "^ '^' *« "^"l^* purchased from the pedler at various houses, and carried to the Sainbow to be Mhibited ttere. In fact, there was a general fee^gS be a great deal done at the Eainbow, and that no man need otev^:^;Sc;utr '"' ^^« ^^^^ '^^^ ^' -- ^« -- Some disappointment was felt, and perhaps a little indig- mg questioned by the Squire and the parson, had ufain^^ aoor, but had not entered hU house, having turned away at cWW°f"°*,- ^''^ ^'"' ^«° S"""'" '«'ti»°"y. 'hough he If only because it gave him a definite image of a whereabont f/ctT'" T" '' ""^ •^ t^enaway fXtteSiS.g pW he could see it now m the pedler's box. But it was ob^^ fori!^L Marner would have seen the man prowling about^ hi- >!f 5 "" i"'^*"^ *^*«' Doubtless, he had made hu. observations when he saw Mamer at the d^r. Anyb^y M BOAS MABXnR. Wri: m might know-and only look at him-that the wearer wa. a Wf-or^niiaer. It wa. a wonder the pedler TT't mnr der^i hmij men of that aort^ with ringB^in their eiw. h^ ^^ J",*"?!"'."?"^"" °^ '"d often, there ^be^ treated It hghtly, stating that he himself had bought a «n- rZ> ButT^. nonaense he «ud, about the miji'a evil tooka But this WM spoken of in the village as the random talk of youth, « as If it was only Mr. Snell who had seen som" thmg odd about the pedlerl » On the contrary, the^lereat W haOf a dozeu who were ready to go bef^Just^;: ZLn and give m much more striking testimony than any thlw lord could fumUh. It was to be hoped Mr Qodfrev w^M not go to Tarley and throw cold water'^n whatS^/eluS ttere, and so prevent the justice from drawing up a w«r^t He was suspected of intending this, when, after LwCTe " ButT r:? off -/"'-back in'the diA^tion "f TZy."" yJ^I Z ^^ ^^^'^y'" i°t«««t i° the robbery had fi^ed before his growing anxiety about Dunstan and Wildflraa^ he was going, not to Tarley, but to Bwherley, unablfto S SunT„1?T,'^*u*l'~" '"y''^8«'- Th7'possibiSty^t Dunstan had played him the ugly trick of riding away wUh Wed away or otherwise squandered the price of the horse was .f«jrthatnrged itself upon him more, even, than the tW^ ^n accidental injury; and now that the dance at Ifa Os- ^t^rill'h^*'^''^" ^"^*^^^i^ himself that he" had teusted his hors. to Dunstan. Instead of trying to still his fe«,heenoonr.g«lthem, with that superstition! im^sion which cling, to us all, that if we expect evU very stj^gH w the less lAely to comej and when he heard a horse an- proaching at a trot, and saw a hat rising aboveTh^ge Zond S "irno^t!'" V; r r " ''^ conjuration hl^nuS •i Bnt no sooner did the horse come within sight than his i«« s«J. ag«n. It was not Wild&e; and in a few ^ento SOjAB UARNXR. gf more he dwoemed that the rider wa. not Dunstan, but Bryce ii;Se"^ " '■^' "^"^ • '- «»* -p«<^ -eS '•mat do yon mean?" aaid Godfrey, hastily. Why, hasn't he been home yet?" aaid Bryce hed^r:Ithmyh'S:r.'"'"'^'^'"^' ^''^- ^"^^ pal'j'^t^u tf hiLr "^^ '"''"«' '"" p'^""^'-^ ^- ^«^ n^?" ^i *^"™^ ''™ ^°^ »n^ broken his knees?" said Godfrey, flushed with exasperation. r '^^°"« than that, " said Bryoe. « You see, I'd made a bar- gain with him to buy the horse for a hundred and twen^-a swMguig prwe, but I always liked the horse. And what does he do but go and stake him-fly at a hedge with stakes inTt a-top of a bank with a ditch before it. Se horTTal ^n dead a pretty good whUe when he was found. So he hasn't been home since, has he? " nlf^T^ °°i" "*x *?°^y' "■«"* """'d better keep away. stT^r"'" " '"" ' "'•''•' ''"« "-"^ ^ --'^ ^ JZI^ ^1. *f ^°°.*/ *"*^" "^-^ ^■7<»' "<^' I'd bar- guned for the horse, it did oome into my head that he might SfHn..^,!"^ ~llmg the horse without your knowledge, foVl idn't believe it was hi. own. I knew Master Dunsey ;as up to his tricks sometimes. But where can he be gone? He's never been seen at Batherley. He couldn't have been hurt, for ae must have walked off." ^ hJl^^J'l'T'* *^°^y' "*^''y- "H"^" never be hurw he's made to hurt other people." said^r^cr ^°" '^^ ^'"'^ ''™ '**'* to sell the horse, eh?" MmIT' J "T^*®^. to part with the horse-he was always a Me too hard m the mouth for me," said Godfr.gr; hi, p^j, making him wmoe under the idea that Bryce guessed the sale f t^,2 " "T^'^y- " I '"«' goi^S to see after him- i thought some mischief had happened. I'll go back now " K " SILAS HARNXR. he added, turnmg the horse's head, and wishing he oonld eet nd of Bryce, for he felt that thTtong-dreaded Li. iHb 1^ w« dose upon him. "You're coming on to Baveloe, aren't f},iYf' j1 T* "'"''" "•''^ ^'y""- "I "« «»ntag round U.e e for I had to go to Flitton, and I thought I mig^ « ^J^yJ?.^^^ ""y- ""^ J"** '"* y°» >'»<"' all I knew myself about toe horse. I suppose Master Dnnsey didn't like to show himself till the ill news had blown over I Wt He's bridge— I know he's fond of the house." ' 0- '"« "Perhaps he is," said Godfrey, rather absently. Then ^ , ™ *°°° """"Kh, I'll be bound." WeU, here's my turning," said Bryce, not surprised to per^ire that Godfrey was rather "do^" "so Kd yo^ »^-day, and wish I may bring you better news «>otoer Godfrey rode along slowly, representing to himself the scene ^„ J n r"" *° ^^ *'"^'''' ^^'^ "^'"^ '"' f«l* tbat there wL ^Ztll Tr^'^^P*- ""« ""^"'""O" "bout the money If^ '"^'' i'?^ ""* "•°"'*"8! ""^ « l"* 'Withheld tS ZVh^K ''f^'^ """ *° °°'"" ^^ "Portly, and, find- toll ^ K T"*^ •*" *^'' '•™"* °' ''^ f"*'"*''" «"8er, would teU ae whole stojy out of spite, even though he hfd Nothing might staUwiu Dunstan's silence and put off the evU dav he to h^? f" T'' T "^ ""^ "'"^^ "P*"* «>« -o-y paid to him by Fowler; and as he had never been guUty of such an ^r B^X^' """t """^'^ '•""' "-^ afJll^aTime "w ing But Godfrey could not bend himself to this. He felt toa^in letting Dunstan have the money he had a^eady bl S f. *°^ °' *™'* ''"'^'y '««« ™'P«We than that of spending the money direcUy for his own behoof; and yet ^r,^T.^ distinction between the two aete which made him « i,T! -^".""IT °^ """"^ ""'"' blackening than the other aa to be intolerable to him. "klf f,°"'' P^**"" *° ''* » ««*! fellow, =- he said to himself; but I m not a scoundrel-at least, I'll stop short somewhere. >«■if^^#'* =.^ rf SILAS HARNBB. 6» to I U bear the oonsequenoes of what I have done looner than make believe I've done what I never would have done. I'd never have spent the money for my own pleasure— I was tor- tured into it." Through the remainder of this day Godfrey, with only oc- casional fluctuations, kept his wUl bent in the direction of a complete avowal to his father, and he withheld the story of Wildfire's loss tiU the next morning, that it might serve him as an introduction to heavier matter. The old ^uire was ac- customed to his son's frequent absence from home, and thought neither Dunstan's nor Wildfire's non-appearance a matter caU- ing for remark. Godfrey said to himself again and again that if he let slip this one opportunity of confession he might never have another; the revelation might be made even in a more odious way than by Dunstan's malignity: she might come as she had threatened to do. And then he tried to make the scene easier to himself by rehearsal : he made up his mind how he would pass from the admission of his weakness in let- ting Dunstan have the money to the fact that Dunstan had a hold on him which he had been unable to shake off, and how he would work up his father to expect something very bad before he told him the fact. The old Squire was an implaca- ble man : he made resolutions in violent anger, and he was not to be moved from them after his anger had subsided— as fiery volcanic matters cool and harden into rock. Like many violent and implacable men, he aUowed evils to grow under favor of his own heedlessnem, till they pressed upon him with exasperating force, and then he turned round with fierce sever- ity and became unrelentingly hard. This was his system with his tenants: he allowed them to get into arrears, neglect their fences, reduce their stock, sell their straw, and otherwise go the wrong way,— and then, when he became short of money in consequence of this indulgence, he took the hardest measures and would listen to no appeal. Godfrey knew all this, and felt it with the greater force because he had coijstantly suffered annoyance from witnessing his father's suddei; fits of unrelent- ingness, for which his own habitual irrMolution dsisriTrsd Ms of all sympathy. (H^ was not critical on the faulty induT genoe which preceded these fits; that seemed to him natural -i\ n BOAS KARNBH. i hi St^f J1!U •*•? "■? ^"^ *• •">""«• Qodfrv thought, that his father'! pnde might mm this mapriaw in a lirttTw weep thmkmg that he had done with inward debating But ClZlir^l^ ^' evening thoughUi it was as if they Tnl^ ^ * ^^ '"'« °°* *° be roused to farther work Inrtead of arguments for confession, he could now fLT tte pre«,nce of nothing but its evU consequences : fte oil dWt? Sr.r"^ ""k'-."" °"* -drinking from the IS? „1 raising a hopeless barrier between himself and Nancy-the oM disposition to rely on chances which might be^arorable to iTiif^^ew'TfSmt'^^''- ^y.-^^aSThtldh*: ow on cne nope of them by his own act? He had seen the wif T^ fl'^-^ "«''* y«'**"*'y- Ho ^i be^ in TraJe tw. ^ ^^*. ^ ^™ to do was to try and soften his fa- Swl^Ma^J^^"^'^:, "^-«y^- But he must go on, /J^l' '^""f,,'**" breaking the horse's knees-he'g been and had began to cut his meat. "But I wasn't thinking of «k.ng you to buy me another hoiee; I was only thinking I'd tost the means of paying you with the price of Wildfire, a! I'd mean to do. Dunsey took him to the hunt to sell him^f" me ' 2d S'^i^ «'^*'' .'"'•* """^^ • '»'8«^ ^o' a hundred «ad twenty With Bryc«, he went after the hounds, and took ■ome fool's leap or other that did for the horse at oice. Su BtLAB MARNnt 78 h«in'tb««i for that, I riiould have pud yoa a htindwd poundi tlui morning," i~"uu» The Squiro had laid down hi. knife and fork, and was .tar- tog at hli Mn in amazement, not being .uffloiently quick of town to form a probable guew a. to what oould have oaurad w strange an inversion of the paternal a-1. filial relations a. « -iT^'^"? °' ^" •°° **• P»y •'™ » >""dred pound.. ^iA^J^ \t'~}''^ '"y """y-^ "" q"*t« to blame," «d Godfrey. "Fowlerdidpaythathundr^ pound.. He pMd ^to me when I wa. over there one day la.t month. And Dun.ey bothered me for the money, and I let him have '^JT'S** ^°P^ ^ '^"^^ ^ "'''• *° P»r *t y°" before thi..» The Squire wa. purple with anger before hi. .on had done speaking, and found utterance difficult. "You let Dunwv have It, .ir? And how long have you been so thick with Dun- .ey that you murt eoUogue with him to embezzle my money? Are you taming out a wamp? I tell you I won't have it. I II turn the whole pack of you out of the house together, and marry again I'd have you to remember, .ir, my property', got no entaU on it;-.inoe my grandfather', time the Cawe. ow do a. they like with their land. Remember that, .ir. Let Dmuey have the money I Why .hould you let IHrnwy «l?'*?°°*y'' There'. K)me lie at the bottom of it." There, no lie, .ir," said Godfrey. "I wouldn't have .pent tte mmey mywlf, but Dunsey bothered me, and I wa. a foo^ and let lum have it. But I meant to pay it, whether he did or not. That', the whole story. I never meant to embezzle money, and I'm not the man to do it. You never knew me do a dishoneet trick, sir." "Where'. Donsey, then? What do you stand talking there ^J°,'^t ^^ ^"""y' ■" ^ **" y°"' ""1 let him give Moount of what he wanted the money for, and what he', done ,i ¥L^^ ''P'"* '*• I'" *^ bim out. I Mid I would, and I'U do it. He sha'n't brave me. Oo and fetch " "" ' isn't come back, sir." 'What.' did he break hin own neck, then?" said the *' n„_j„ _.., ,. — -"" "«~», uieui sua ine Squue, with some disgust at the idea that, in that case, he oould not fulfil hi. threat r4 8ii.Aa MARinn. ii < ) A^'L^iT^'* '"^v^ ^^^ for th. ho«e w« found de»d, ted Duni^qr muit h«v. wilked off. Id4re«»w.^i •^' iTdXI '' "t' ''•.„V""'' '^'^ WW h.^.^' "^^ And what muit you be letting him have mr monev fo,? An.w., m. that," «id the Squire, .tt«,king SKl^ imoe Dunmy wai not within reach ' ^ ' ri^2^' ^' h ^'^ '"°''" -^^ Oodfrv. h«itatingly Wfl ^/"B.»"ffl«i»tly •"«* that no Mott of dupUoity^ unprepared with inranted motivea "~-~^ "" »» qu'te "Jou don't Icnow? I teU you what it i^ rir. You'Tebe*. up to eome tnok, and you've been bribing him not to t^ "W the Sqmre^ with a .udden aoutenee. IhiXeWU^Sd W, who felt hi, heart b«tt violently at the ne^ of^u S^t^^^- "'••"'^'^•■"'^P-^-lWmontrL^.S; i|«t .to^ very riight impulM .ufflee. for that on a do,«! _ " ^y?, ■"' " •"• "'^ t^ing to apeak with oareleea eaaa « it «yb^r,S.f it^'nr "l^"^' "'• "-^'^ ™Z.77 r^* ' • ''*"*^y '<»*'' ''•'"le to pry into voune iwn I foolenee: it wouldn't have made any diSSeneT Jt^' "T. if rdnot had the bad luok to lo-TiSmj:^ have paid you the money." mouia ^d 1 i*7 yo- know, air, you ««, ha' don. with '^T» Mid t»^f Stuire, frowning and casting an angry gknoe at hi. ZJ '^ *°?'"' °° •" °°* ""^^ ^ «^ find m!^y fJi*.^y ^Z. anlk.» " "IST''''''" ^ ^- tabl-i'^fuU o^ »h^ « I ' **^ ^°™*'' t°°. ««i in worse time., by for-nothingfellow. to hang on me like hor^-leechT *?ve SSKrir"^" *" ^"^ '''-*''''' ''^^ ^* -■ «"* ^ fa«,r.^ J-dfPnont^^ b"t he had alway. had a «Ze Uu^t hL fcfter'. mdulgence had not been kudne». and hadlad a ^e longing for .ome diaoipline that would have checked hi« own errant weakne.. and helped his better will. The BOAB MARinm. n Squiie ate hii brMd and meat haatily, took a deap draught of ale, then turned his chair from the table, and began to art^ik again. "It'll be all the woree for you, you know— you'd •>!§<)<* ry- and help me keep things together." "Well, sir, I've often offered to take the map%T^^- ^ ^ w ph.oe door. *^ ^' ""* Godfrey, moying toward the '^^'^^^'^SZr^S.''' -and order my »oSiSfyrhyte::::^ae'r^« '''«'^- ^^ -- out havir, ma^any^^^n^- "^'^ "" "«'«<* ''■*- that he 4l entTJeJTiTseS ^l^^^lSr'" '°°" ""««y and deceit. What had iC^ ab^t^ "" Pwyarioation had raised a new aUm^Thv^ l^proposmg to Nanoy his father's to ^ 7^:„ ? J T" *«»'-"!^*°*"'' * P"""" BimpUU>^ who may be ea^ ^ed mto usmg his interest, a possible state of mind in some sC^k'i^""!,^* ^t ^°'*^'^'^^e- I*t Wm neglect the re- ^ „WK k"* '"" f'^'.'^^ '"' ''"" ^«^tably Lchor hi,^- ^^, ^^t^'^ *^* *^' *^8 '•"' undone may turn out not to be of the supposed importance. Let him betray Us ^1' "^T" "** ^ "^ «^°"' *^* o'^' cunninTcom! plexi^ called Chance, which gives him the hope tlit hu, faend will never know. Let him forsake a deoenVcraft that MvTLC V " '^^^'^ °* " P"*'*»'<"' to ^Wch nature never called hni^ and his religion will infallibly be the wor- ship of blessed Chance, which he will believe in as the mi^^ ^y^\^ ""Tf- "^^ "^ P^^'P^" deprecated in that rdi^ CHAPTER X. JusTio Malak was naturally regarded in Tarley and Rav- e^oe as a man of capacious mind, seeing that he could draw much wider conclusions without evidence than could be ex- pected of his neighbors who were not on the Commission of th« «T' J !1 "^.''" °°* ^^«'y to ""^le^* the clew of the tinder-box, and an inquiry was set on foot concerning a pedler, name unknown, with curly black hair and a foreL complexion, carrying a box of cutlety and jewelry, and weu- m large nng. m hi. ears. But either because inquiry was too slow-footed to overtake him. or beo.u«, the d«c%,ti^ i^l rs SILAS KARMIB. i / applied to BO many pedlera that inquiry did not know how tr, choose among them, weeks passed away, and there was no other result concerning the robbery than a gradual cessation of the excitement it had caused in Kaveloe. Dunstan Caas's absence was hardly a subject of remark: he had once before had a quarrel with his father, and had gone off, nobody knew whither, to return at the end of six weeks, take up his old quarters unforbidden and swagger as usual. His own family, who equally expected thU issue, with the sole difference that the Squire was determined this time to forbid him the old quarters, nerer mentioned his absence; and when his uncle Kimble or Mr. Osgood noticed it, the story of his haviiig killed Wildfire and committed some offence against his father was enough to prevent surprise. To connect the fact of Dun- sey's disappearance with that of the robbery occurring on the same day lay quite away from the track of every one's thought —even Godfrey's, who had better reason than any one else to know what his brother was capable of. He remembered no mention of the weaver between them since the time, twelve years ago, when it was their boyish sport to deride him; and, besides, his imagination constantly created an alibi for Dun- stan: he saw him oontinu«aiy in some congenial haunt, to which he had walked off on leaving Wildfire— saw him spong- ing on chance acquaintances, and meditating a return home to the old amusement of tormenting his elder brother. Even if any brain m Baveloe had put the said two facts together, I doubt whither a combination so injurious to the prescriptive respecta'jility of a family with a mural monument and venera- ble tankirds would not have been suppressed as of unsound toufeney. But Christmas puddings, brawn, and abundanc of spirituous liquors, throwing the mental originality into the chann j1 of nightmare, are great preservatives against a dan- ^•lous spontaneity of waking thought. When the robbery was talked of at the fiainbow and else- where, in good company, the balance continued to waver be- tween the rational explanation founded oa the tinder-box, and the thewy of an impenetrable mysteiy that mocked investiga- tiu.1. Toe advouates of the tinder-box-and-pedler view oon- ■idered the other side a muddle-headed and credulous set, '^ '"JJ.^. osi -liMm^mM SILAB HABNXR 79 who, because they themselTes were wall-e/ed, supposed every- body else to hftTe the same blank outlook ; and the adherents of the inexplicable more than hinted that their antagonists were animals inclined to crow before they had found any com — mere skimming-dishes in point of depth— whose clear-sight- edness consisted in supposing there was nothing behind a barn-door because they couldn't see through it; so that, though their controversy did not serve to elicit the fact con- cerning the robbery, it elicited some true opinions of collateral importance. But while poor Silas's loss served thus to brush the glow current of Raveloe conv jrsation, Silas himself was feeling the withering desolation of that bereavement about which his neighbors were arguing at their sase. To any one who had observed him before he lost his gold, it might have seemed that so withered and shrunken a life as his could hardly be susceptible of a bruise, could hardly endure any subtraction but such as would put an end to it altogetlMr. But in reality it bad been an eager life, filled with immediate purpose whieh fenced him in from the wide, cheerless unknown. It had been a dinging life; and though the object round which its fibres had clung was a dead disrupted thing, it satisfied the need for clinging. But now the fence was broken down — the support was snatched away. Mamer's thoughts could no longer move in their old round, and were baffled by a blank like that which meets a plodding ant when the earth has broken away on its homeward path. The loom was there, and the weaving, and the growing pattern in the cloth; but the bright treasure in the hole under his feet was gone; the prospect of handling and counting it was gone : the evening had no phantasm of delight to still the poor soul's craving. The thought of the money he would get by his actual work could bring no joy, for its meagre image was only a fresh reminder of his loss; and hope was ton heavily crushed by the sudden blow for his imagination to dwell on the growth of a new hoard from that small beginning. He filled un tht^ blank vrit-y^ n^^f Aa ^*^ ""*■ »»«»;»£. \^ every now and then moaned low, like one in pain : it was the sign that his thoughts had come round again to the niddan 80 8ELA8 MABNEB. hi^l^^if ? T ^ evenrng-time. And 11 the evening, as on M. ^ ^""^^^ by his dull fire, he leaned his elb^ on his knees, and clasped his head with his hands, and moZd Y low-not as one who seeks to be heard partly di,3ipat^ by the nZ^l'^'^ Z^ Ztt^rZ had shown him. Instead of a m«n »>,„ i,.j ■"""ortune than honest folks corll\"tt;if wrw^r^! not the inclination to nse that J^'g'in a nl^h^.^t' It was now apparent that Silas had not cw^ing »r4h to keep his own. He was generally spoken of Ma "3^ mushed creatur"; and that aroid^ce of hVs ^eLhl^ cSzin^s? ° *" ^°"^ '°"'^^' "•" "- ---i"*^ -re Thl^ "'"^^^ *° " '^'""' ^"*"°8 ^'«' "1""^ in various ways The odor of Chrn,tmas cooking being on the wind, it waTthe .««on when superfluous pork and black puddingTa^e sagges tive of charity m weU-to-do families, and Sih«'s misfortle had brought him uppermost in the memory oThoSekeepr e^^^ tt- H f "^ """"" °* '* "^^ ""^^^ <^« t° church, enforced the doctrme by a present of pigs' pettitoes well n«I c^Wte^ <^»'.Pata unfounded prejud'il £Sie cl Lai to ri™ .how^r*^.'?"" '^° ^""^ °°*^^8 but verbal consolation to give showtfd a disposition not only to greet SUa« and dis ou» his misfortune at some length when they encounter^ IZZ "^'^ ^"' -^ to take the trouble of caJliTg^ hw cottage and getting him to repeat all the details on the r^jn r' m"" ""'' ""'^'^ *^*° cheer hto^ys:;ifg fol kff«rln Tf y""™ '"""'""' °« "<" other 'p^ nJ^K^^^'^M"^ ™'^° "^^ "* "« seldom able to comfort our neighbors with our words is that our good-will gets adulterated in spite of ourselves, before it, ..an nal- ■:-.= "^J""™™"*"; black pudding, andpettitoes without ■gi;u:rthem': fl^vrof SILAS UABNEB. 81 OOP own egoism; but language ia a stream that is almost sure H„1 ,? °"f f'*^ "^^^ '^''"' '"» » ^ proportion of kmdness m Baveloe; but it was often of a beery and bungling h oriti^ ^ ^^ "^"^ *" the complimentary and l.t^L'^r^'.w"'™^'''' '^"''"8 ""^ """^g expressly to let Silas know that recent events had given him the advantage of standing more favorably in the opinion of a man whoee judgment was not formed lightly, opened the conversation by ftamb' ^ """ ** ''* ^"^ ^"^^ ^^^^ and adjusted his "Come, Master Mamer, why, you've no call to sit a-moan- !l- ^ ..^ °"' ""^'- ^ "'^'^ *° *^. "hen you first come mto these parts, as you were no better nor you should be; you were younger a deal than what you are now: but you J^Z^r * """""S' ''J^i'^-faoed oreatur, partly like a bid- &oed calf, as I may say. But there's no knowing: it isn't every queer-looksed thing as Old Harry's had the making of -I me ''*1» 8°* "y ''ilo'ing busine*,, and some oC yon7rZ '^ Tl'''' "^"^ """'' » »"' »' » 1°'- price, s^d gfve ^!^^,l™^ wu*"" 5^°" **" «°""' to ohuroh, and be a bit neighboriy.. Why, you've never beared me say ' Am^' Bi«e you oomemto these parts, and I recommend^you to lo4^o innter. Here Mr. Maoey paused, perha™ expecting some y o emotion in his hearer; but not obse^ingTy /e wen on^ And as for the money for the suit o' olottes, ^hy yZ Eh^^'^ehy'!' """" '" ■"** ''"^"'^ '^» y- -- SUaa started a Uttl. at the change to a questioning tone, and SILAS MARNBR 8S •BBweied miidly, "I don't know; I owi't rightly i*y— it's a long while since." After leceiving such an answer as this, it is not surpris- ing that Mr. Maoey observed, later on in the evening at the Bainbow, that Mamer's head was "all o£ a muddle," and that it was to be doubted if he ever knew when Sunday oame round, which showed him a worse heathen than mmj a dog. Another of Silas's comforters, besides Mr. Maoey, came to him with a mind highly charged on the same topic. This was Mrs. Winthrop, the wheelwright's wife. The inhabitanta of Baveloe were not severely regular in their ohuioh-going, and perhaps there was hardly a person in the parish who would not have held that to go to church every Sunday in the ca' ^n- dar would have shown a greedy desire to stand well with Heaven, and get ma undue advantage over their neighbors— a wish to be better than the "common run," that would have implied a reflection on those who had had godfathers and god- mothers as well as themselves, and had an equal right to the burying-service. At the same time, it was understood to be requisite for all who wen not hous^old servaMs, or young men, to take the sauaaoit at one of the great festivals: Squire Cass himself took it on Christmas Dmy; whUe those who were held to be "good livers " went to church with great- er, though still with moderate, frequency. Mrs. Winthrop was one of these: she was in all respects a woman of sorupuioDS conscience, so eager for duties that life seemed to offer them too scantily unless she rose at half-past four, though this Uirew a scarcity of work over the more ad- vanced hours of the morning, which it was a constant problem with her to remove. Yet she had n ^t the vixenish temper which is sometimes supposed to be » necessary condition of such habits; she was a very mild, patient woman, whose na- ture it was to seek out all the sadder and more serious elements of life, and pasture her mind upon them. She was the person always first thought of in Baveloe when there was illness or death in a family, when leeches were to be applied, or there wSb u sudden disappointment in a monthly nurse. She was a "comfortable woman "—good-looking, fresh-complexioned. ir^jJutE M 8ILA.8 HARNBR. ■4 ^' h«Ting her Upe always alighUj .crewed, ai if ihe felt henelf In a siok-room with the doctor or the clergyman present But ■be was never whimpering; no one had seen her shed tears- She was simply grave and inclined to shake her head and sieh' almost imperceptibly, like a funereal mourner who is not a re- iation. It seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop, who loved his quart pot and his joke, got along so well with DoUy; but ^l^^ ■; •'"'^'i''' jokes and joviality as patiently as everything else, considering that "men «w,W be so," and yjewing tiie stronger sex in the light of animals whom it had pleased Heaven to make naturally troublesome, like bull, and turkey-cooks. This good wholesome woman could hardly fail to have her mmd drawn strongly toward Silas Marner, now that he ap- peared jn the light of a sufferer; and one Sunday afternoon she took her little boy Aaron with her, and went to oaU on BUas, ^rrymg m her hand some smaU lard-oakes, flat paste- like articles mutV. esteemed in Kaveloe. Aaron, an apple- cheeked youngster of seven, with a clean starched friU which looked hke a Pl«te for the apples, needed aU hU adventurous ouriosity to embolden him against the possibility tliat the bie- eyed weaver might do him some bodily injury; and hU dubieto was much increased when, on arriving at the Stone-pits, they heard the mystenous sound of the loom. "Ah, it is as I thought, " said Mrs. Winthrop, sidly. They had to knock loudly before Silas heard them; but when he did come to the door he showed no impatience, as he would once have dme, at a visit that had b^en unasked for and un- "^•^ :„ """"'y- ^" heart had b^en as a locked casket with ite treasure mside; but now the casket was empty, and the lock was broken Left groping in darkness, with his prop ntter^r gone, Silas had mevitably a sense, though a dull and haU-despairmgone, that if any help came to him it must come ^Z^'fT''.!^,*^'"^ "^^ " ""»''' "'"^K 01 expectation at the sight of his fellow-men. a faint comiciousness of depei.d- enoe on their good-will. He opened the door wide to admit Dolly, but without otherwise returning her greeting than by moving the arm-chair a few inches as a sign that ah- -- ♦-. -^ down in It. UoUy, as soon as she was'seated, removed the Kr::^MPi>^ SILAS MARNSB. 85 white cloth that oovered her lard-oakea, and laid in her graT- ett way,— "I'd a baking yirterday, Matter Mamer, and the lard- oake» turned out better nor common, and I'd ha' aaked you to accept some, if you'd thought weU. I don't eat rooh things myself, for a bit o' bread's what I like from one year's end to the other; but men's stomiohs are made so comical, they want a change— they do, I know, God help 'em." Dolly sighed gently as she held out the cakes to »ilas, who thanked her kindly and looked very cloee at them, absently, being accustomed to look so at everything be took into his hand— eyed all the while by the wondering bright orbs of the small Aaron, who had made an outwork of his mother's chair, and was peeping rouud from behind it. "There's letters pricked on 'em," said Dolly. "I can't read 'em myself, and there's nobody, not Mr. Maoey himself, rightly knows what they mean; but they've a good meaning, for they're the same as is on the pulpit-doth at church. What are they, Aarou, my dear? " Aaron retreated completely behind his outwork. " Oh, go, that's naughty, " said his mother, mildly. " Well, whativer the letters are, they've a good meaning; and it's a stamp as has been in our house, Ben says, ever since he was a little un, and his mother used to put it on the cakes, and I've allays put it on too; for if there's any good, we've need of it i' aiis world." " It's I. H. S.,» said Silas, at which proof of learning Aaron peeped round the chair again. ^ "Well, to be sure, you can read 'em off," said Dolly. " Ben's read 'em to me many and many a time, but they slip out o' my mind again; the more's the pity, for they're good letters, else they wouldn't be in the church; and so I prick 'em on all the loaves and all the cakes, though sometimes they won't hold, because o' the rising— for, as I said, if there's any good to be got we've need of it i' thie world— that we have; and I hope they'll bring good to you, Mastci Marner, for it's wi' that will I brought you the cakt= ; and you see the letters h^vA held bf^ttj^r nnv f^nmv^.f.r: " Silas was as unable to interpiet the letters as Dolly, but M SILAB 1IARMB& I' I u there wm no poteibUity of miwmdMsUndia. the dMin to ■!*• comfort thjt m.d. iuelf heard in her qZt tonr^fS ly. But heUld down the oiUie. and «»t.dhunMlf»bMntly tor hSr '^ °' ""^ ^"''' ^^^'^ '^'^ *"«1 tJi'.^' u '^T'' ""^ "yhere, we've need of it^" repeated DoUy who did not lighUy forsake a eervioeable phrase She looked at SiU. pityingly „ .he w«it on. « Baryr diS ir^ / fkureh-bell. thi. morning, Master Mamer? I doubt you didn't know it was Sunday. Living so lone here, you low^your ooun^ I dare say : and then, when your loom ;i^ ^ fteZuTi. '•" "" '^''' """ P^"''" -" ^ ^-t "Yea, I did; I heard 'em," said Silas, to whom Sunday briU were a mere accident of the day, and not part of ita saoredae*,. There h«l been no beU. in Lantern Y^. "B„^ ^"^ l*^*? ^"^' P*"**"* '^°" 1" "Pok" •gain. But what a pity it « ,ou should work of a Sunday, andnot d«^ your«Jl_if you didn't go to churohi for if you'd a roasting bit, it might be as you oouldn't leave it, beiii a lone nu^ But there . the bakehus, if you oould Ike^ytr mind to spend a twopence on the oven now and then.-not every week, m oourse-I shouldn't like to do that mviell- you might carry your bit o' dinner there, for if. notUngbut nght to have a bito' summat hotof aSunday, andnottomake it as you can t know your dinner fcor^ Saturday. But now npo^^Ohnstmas Day. this ble«^ Christ™^ ^,ver ^mi^g; If you was to take your dinner t. tha bakehus, and so to church, and «« the hoUy and the yew, and hear tte anS,? Md then take the sa<»amen', you'd be a deal the better, and you d know which end you stood on, and you could put your bnmt I' Them as knows better nor we do, seein' you'd ha' done what it Ues on us aU to do." DoUy'g exhortation, which was an unusually long effort of wTtl,"i. r """'?»«<* ^ '!'« soothing persuiive tone tots hw medicine, or a baan at gruei i„ which he had no ap- SILAS lUimit •r |i*«t». SUM had Mr«T More bem oloeely orged on the point of hii abMnee fn>m ohurch, which had only bMo thought «r m » pwt of hU general queemeM; and he was too direct and ■imple to erade Dolly'i appeal. "Nay, nay," he (aid, "I know nothing o' church. I've nerer been to church." " No I " eaid DoUy, in a low tone of wonderment. Then, be- ^inking herielf of Silas's advent from an unknown oountry, WW b^?» " ''*' ^" " ^*''^ '"' "'"'"^ "^^ y°" "Oh, yes," said Silas, mediutively, sitting in his usual pos- ture of leaning on his knees, and supporting his head. " There was churches-a many— it was a big town. But I knew noth- ing of 'em— I went to chapel." Dolly was much puzzled at this new word, but she was rather afraid of inquiring further, lest "chapel" might mean some haunt of wickedness. After a little thought, she said,- I t A ■i'"'*' Mamer, it's niver too late to turn over a new i "r„ J*"" ^" "''"" ''■^ '"' church, there's no teUing the good It '11 do you. For I feel so set up and comfortable as niver was when I've been and heard the prayers, and the singing to the prMse and glory o' God, as Mr. Maoey gives OTt-and Mr. Craokenthorp saying good words, and more par- tio lar on Saoramen' Day ; and if a bit o' trouble comes, I feel ss I can put up wi' it, for I've looked for help i' the rieht quarter, and gev myself up to Them as we must all give our- selves up to at the last; and if we'n done our part, it isn't to be believed as Them as are above us 'all be worse nor we are. and come short o' Their'n." Poor Dolly's exposition of her simple Eaveloe theology fell wtter unmeaningly on Silas's ears, for there was no word in it that could rouse a memory of what he had known as relig- ion, and his comprehension was quite baffled by the plural pronoun, which was no heresy of Dolly's, but only her way of avoiding a presumptuous familiari^. He remained silent, notfeelmg molined to assent to the part of Dolly's speech whiol, he fully nnderstood-her recommendation thathe Sri ^ ^f J^"^"^- ^°°«^°' ^' "» *" "o unaccustomed to talk beyond the brief questions .ind answers necessary for the »■ 1 MKiocorr (MoumoN tbt oun (ANSI and ISO IfST CHAm No. 2) 22 1.1 r."'ia lit |££ U ■ It 1.8 iii^ui ^ /APPLIED IM/GE Inc *653 Emt Uoin SlfMt RochMttr. N«« York 14aOB USA (716) «2 - 0300 - Phoo. (716) 280'- 9909 -Fa I r I 88 SILAS HARNXR. tranaaotion of his simple businesg that words did not easilv come to him without the urgency of a distinct purpoee. But now, little Aaron, having become used to the wearor's awful presence, had advanced to his mother's side, and Silas seeming to notice him for the first time, tried to return Dolly's signs of good- will by offering the lad a bit of lard-cake. Aaron ^ank back a little, and rubbed his head against his mother's shoulder, but stil! thought the piece of cake worth the risk of putting his hand out for it. "Oh, for shame, Aaron," said his mother, taking him on her lap, however; "why, you don't want cake again vet awhUe He's wonderful hearty," she went on, with a Uttle sigh- that he is, God knows. He's my youngest, and we spoU him sadly, for either me or the father must allays hev him m our sight — that we must." She stroked Aaron's brown head, and thought it must do Master Marner good to see such a "pictur of a child." But Mamer, on the other side of the hearth, saw the neat-featured rosy face as a mere dim round, with two dark spots in It. "And he's got a voice like a bird— you wouldn't think," DoUy went on; " he can sing a Christmas oarrU as his father's taught him ; and I take it for a token as he'U come to good, as he can learn the good tunes so quick. Come, Aaron, stan' up and sing the carril to Master Mamer, come. " Aaron repUed by rubbing his forehead against his mother's shoulder. "Oh, that's naughty," said Dolly, gently. "Stan' up when mother teUs you, and let me hold the cake till you've done." ' Aaron was not indisposed to display hU talents, even to an ogre, under proteotmg circumstances; and after a few more signs of coyness, consisting chiefly in rubbing the backs of his hands over his eyes, and then peeping between them at Master Marner, to see if he looked anxious for the "carril " he at length aUowed his head to be duly adjusted, and standing be- hmd the table, which let him appear above it only as f ar a3 his broad frill, so that he looked like a cherubic head untrou- bled with a body, he began with a clear chirp, and in a melody that had the rhythm of an industrious hammer,— SILAS MARNBR. $9 ** God rat yon, merry gentlemen. Let ""***'"j you dismay, For Jflim Cbrlit our Saviour Was bom on Clirbtinas Day, " Dolly listened with a devout look, glancing at Mamer in some conHdence that this strain would help to allure him to church. "That's Christmas music," she said, when Aaron had end- ed, and had secured his piece of cake again. "There's no other music equU to the Christmas music—' Hark the erol angUs sing.' And you may judge what it is at church, Mas- ter Mamer, with the bassoon and the voices, as you can't help thmking you've got to a better place a'ready-for I wouldn't f^ 111 o' this world, seeing as Them put us in it as knows best-but what wi' the drink, and the quarreUing, and the had illnesses, and the hard dying, as I've seen times and times, one's thankful to hear of a better. The boy sines pretty, don't he. Master Marner? " ■'6 "Yes," said Silas, absently, "very pretty." The Christmas carol, with its hammer-like rhythm, had fall- en on hU ears as strange music, quite* unlike a hymn, and could have none of the effect Dolly contemplated. But he wanted to show her that he was grateful, and the only mode that occurred to him was to offer Aaron a bit more cake. "Oh, no, thank you. Master Mamer," said DoUy, holding down Aaron's willing hands. " We must be going home now And so I wish you good-by. Master Mamerj and if you evei feel anyways bad in your inside, as you can't fend for yourself, 1 U come and clean up for you, and get you a bit o' viohial. and willing. But I beg and pray of you to leave off weaving of a Sunday, for it's bad for soul and body-and the money ^ comes i' that way 'uU be a bad bed to lie down on at the last, tf It doesn't fly away, nobody knows where, like the white frost. And you'U excuse me being that free with you, Mas- ter Maxner, for I wish you well-I do. Make your bow. Aaron." ' Silas said "Good-by, and thank you kindly," as he opened the door for DoUy, but he couldn't help feeling relieved ^^hen Bhe was gone— relieved that he might weave again and moar ii; HLAS KABMBR. unknown obiecta wh,„i, ,. .""°'. ''m only like a report of meat had come to him as a n^„h^, *^' *^°"8^ *''« ing he looked out^^rwS fel^'tw '^ ^"'«""°™- omelly on every blade of gra^ S tt hT""^ "'.P'*'" *ivered under the bitter Z^'^t^ll ^2 th' ^' began to fall, and curtained fr Jm him Zn Z f ""''' look, shutting him close un wirt v ** ^""^ »"*■ sat in his robbed home Z^'l"^ ^^^ 8™*- ^-d he ^gto close his shutters orTk hi! S« 'Tr,"'^' ""V""" between his hands and moaninKtiU L ^?/i!''"'! ?"■ ^"""^ told him that his fire-wasTS "^^ ^ '"'' Nobody in this world but himself knew th«f k- same Silas Mamer who had onc^oved hfrf-n ■ ^^ *''" ove, and trusted in an ^s^ Sxin tZT'^'^''^V that past experience had become ^ ^^*° *° '^'«'" But in Eaveloe villaBe the holl. ^^ church was fuller than^l tZu^^^T^t 7^/' ""^ ^t red faces among the abundant d^k™ tulh^ ^'^' "'"" pared for a loneer ii«rvino tk. , t """Khs— faces pre- oTtoast and 1 S ' ^^""^^ '^.'^ '^°«>»» breakfast never heC but afSr "*'"'' v""* ''y°'° '^^ ■^'hem which was diiinaS W"^7^,^« "^"^f^^ ^reed, and of exceptional virtue, Xce it wfs onlv"!? ''^^ '""«" sione-brought a vague exulting all f^r wWcrthr ""'" heaven alraldt eX^w'whi hrrr"' '''"' ^" ating by their presence And thL «. S 7 '*™ appropri- ...through th^ ^.^i^^l^J^^^ 8ILAB MARNBR (,| themselyee free for the rest of the day to eat. H« ,v .-^ u. But the party on Christmag Day, beins a nh-irtw t. i sCnrt^hrnS^cr^ttd"^- -^^^^^^^ Year's Eve that^aS Te g^ oT^'u^iTc JT °? f^' aaof his forefathers', time o7of mS Si T*^'^' away calves, or acquaintances founded on intermitt«n* Z^aI Godfrey Cass was looking forward to this N-w Year's P^. Zt,^^^ """'^ '°°«^« *•"'* "'^^ ^^ ^ d^ to ^U unportunate companion, Anxiety. "■ 8ILAB MARNBR "Dnnwy wiU be ooming home looo: theie will be a ««i Wow-up, .nd bow will you bribe bi. spite to^rw'-C "J^^'^l won't oome home before New Year's Eve oerha™ " said G<^i < and I shall sit by Nanoy then, ^d ',^3;. her and get a . ind look from her' in spite of CselfT^ ''"" But money is wanted in another quarter," said Anxi«fv m a louder voice, "and how will you g^t wiXufS ''""w^w '"""°e''P^' Andif you^^on't^Ut T' WeU, but something may happen to make thines easier " yes, and suppose your father should brinir mattB™ f^ . "Hold your tongue,' and don't worry me. I can see StSsjT " ^"^ '^" '~^ '* -' ^' ^-^ ^^^^ refttfl"!^ T^ on, though in noisy Christmas company: refusing to be utterly quieted even by much drinking. CHAPTER XI. 8oj« women 1 granl, would not appear to advantage seated on a pilhon and attired in a drab j«^and aT™h bX bonnet, with a crown resembling a'smaJl stew-pan "forTI^- ment suggesting a coachman's greateoat, cut ouVmider a^ !"- gu ty of cloth that would only aUow of miniature caZ^s^t well adapted to conceal deficiencies of cont^iTnor'^'d^ab a w,r» r. "''^' 'J'™- "aUow cheeks into livei; con "asr it was a. the greater triumph to Mi,s Nancy Lammeter's beaut e^L i°°''«^„.*l'rt8"y bewitching in that costumTaZ seated on the pillion behind her tell, erect rather, she held on; arm round hun, and looked do,™, with open-ey;d anxie J, at UDf^m^T' r.'"'"''*™'^P~"« ""-l P^'i'ii*^. which sen up forimdable spkshings of mud under the stamp of Dobbin's foot. A pamter would, perhaps, have preferred her in those SILAS HARNER. 03 momentH when she was free from self-oonsoiousnessi but oer- telniy the bloom on her cheeks was at its high^t point of oon- teast Witt the surrounding drab when she arrived at the door of tte Bed House, and saw Mr. Godfrey Cass ready to lift herfcom the pillion. She wished her sister Prisoilla had come [ up at tte same time behind tte servant, for then she would have contrived that Mr. Godfrey should have lifted off Pris- oilla first, and, in tte mean time, she would have persuaded her father to go round to tte horse-block instead of alighting at the door-steps. It was very painful, when you had made it quite clear to a young man that you were determined not to marry him, however much he might wish it, that he would stall craitmue to pay you marked attentions; besides, why didn t he always show tte same attentions, if he meant them smoerely, instead of being so strange as Mr. Godfrey Cass was. sometimes behaving as if he didn't want to speak to her, and taking no notice of her for weeks and weeks, and tten, all on a sudden, almost making love again? Moreover, it was quite plain he had no real love for her, else he would not let people have dence at the SILAS MARNSB. 95 how -X ar^:: JJ','?.^ -^ '»-'* ">- «>« P-nt. Ana wJt^!S ?T^°rv""* '"•''•'» ''«'• '^"ti^'^ed until it tin '°"°*y "'*" "'«"' P"^i »°d these ladies wewlo tek^i by surpn«, at Bnding such a I'oyely face andfile hTi^ W To^nh M ^"' '*'* """^'^ P"* ^ ^*'<«' "he took off ductin*; .^ ^"^"y' "'"*«« *°"8lit8 were always con- ducted with the propnety and moderation oonsoicnons in w MM miured than othwmw, and thu »iidi tmj low dnuei Pi 96 8ILA8 MARHBR .1? 2e Sr^'^ orn.menU, Irt Gilb«f. future wife be whom n„^** °! the ladie. quickly retired, but the Mi.. Gnnn. were quite content that Mr.. 0.good'. inclination to remain Zkh beauty . toilet And it waa really a pleaaure-from the first opening of the bandbox, where e'erytting .m- t of lavender that fitted cloBely round her litUe white neck. Everyth.nK be ongang to M.«, Nancy wa. of delicate purity and naK not a crease was where it had no bu.iness to be, not a Wtrf her hnen professed whiteness without fulfilling ito proL. on ™™ l'?l"'l°° '"' Pinou.hion were .tuck in after a pa^™ from which she waa otreful to aUow no aberration, and aTf" her own person, it gay» the «une idea of perfect unvurbs neatoes. as the body of a little bird. It is Z that ^el^ht' wl^.l K .^r**' °' ^** ^S"' *^' l»y l-ite »'ay from mTJvJ *"J'*««'« °° Bort of coiffure that could make ^«T W \ " '*°f ~"°P'*'*« ^ ''" '"''^ twilll^^ her Uce tucker her coral necklace and coral eai-drops, theMiss Gunns could see nothing to criticise except her Cds, wWoh bore the traces of butter-making, cheese^mshinTa^'d^^ for while she WM dressing she narrated to her aunt how she andPriscUla had packed their boxes yesterday, becausTthi! W "i? "«','>^^8 "oniing, and si^ce the/werTl^vS ^Tt\l hoo' ugherthanD^e Tedman's: her wsquaintan. > with Vrfi^e literature hard y went beyond the rhymes she had worked" her large sampler under the lamband the shepherdess, and in order to balance an account she wa. obliged to effect her sub- traction by removmg visible metallic shilling, and sixpences rom a visible metallic total. There is ha^-dly a servant-maid in these days who is not better informed than Miss Nancy : yet ah. had the essential attributes of > lady-high vjraoity, doli- oate honor in her dealings, deference to others, and refined personal habita, -and lest these should not suffice to convince theirs. I wOladd that she was slightly proud and exacting, and as constant in her affection toward a baseless opinion a^ toward an erring lover. The anxiety about sister Priscilla, which had grown rather active by the time the coral necklace was clasped, was happi- ly ended bj the entrance of that cheerful-looking lady herself with a face made blowsy by cold and damp. After the firsJ questaons and greetings, she turned to Nancy, and surveyed iw^""*, t"* tofoot^then wheeled her round, to ascer4in tHat the back view was equally faultless. "What do you think o' the»e gowns, aunt Osgood?" said PriscilIa, while Nancy helped her to unrobe. "Very handsome indeed, niece," said Mrs. Osgood, with a Bhght increase of formality. She always thought niece Pris- cilla too rough. " I'm obliged to have the same as Nancy, you know, for all I m five years older, and it makes me look yallow; for she never wtll have anything without I have mine just like it because she wants us to look like sisters. And I tell her, folki ull thmk It's my weakness makes me fancy as I shaU look pretty in what she looks pretty in. For I am ugly-there's no denying that: I feature my fpther'a family. But, lawl I don t mind, do you?" Priscilla here turned to the Miss iTUnns rattlmg on in too much preoocupatio- with the deliifht of talkmg to notice that her candor was not appreciated. MI^ MABHBR to them u C«^„ T!'"'' * "^ ''<'"'••• '•' her Iwve it I i.r Mr hII*^ ^"'' "d can't h«lp themwlvw. A. onlT »f I'd^r/''"""'"'*' '• *'• b..t husband, t^d th^ oilla to patue in ^i. «„^ -'^'' "''"^''^ ^ig, PH.- ..i^{.So:^57;iinTs:^,Lt'- ^ ^" ^-^-^ you'?^-^^ S.^"° " '"•^ "^•'•^ "»-* »»«« ST: kin of me " ^ ^ "** "^^ y°" ''"'*«» ^ -"ake a maw- to S. W?£";Srv„ J.^!*^ ""^ P~^«<^ °^ y°" -' »ilUn„ f^t y°°^ '^« another better I -as wHlmg to have y "« ?° «»»"» 'ookbg « if ^* not .n„f. •»°''«.»nother_u. that have got no io"er .IS notjmother auter m the world? I'd do what wa. right, U^I dre«,dm.gown dyed with ohee.e-oolori,gi and I'd ratter you'd chooae, «,d let me wear what ple«.e, yim." if «,?f'?wL°". "" •*■!" ' ^""'"^ ~"°'' ""»°'l to the Mme thing mg. ItwUl befinefun to .ee how you'll maater vourhuaband Sf whr Tf/r ""'"t "~^" "■« ""«^8 »' "the ket^e^l «Iwf" ^''ketOKwthemenmaateredl'' knowT-i* ^ *"' ^'^^'y'" "^^ ^""^. bluahing. "You know I don't mean ever to be married." "Oh, yon nerer mean a fiddlestick', end I " raid Prisoilln. Who riiall /have to work for when father', gone, if you are to go and tjke notion, in your head and be an old S ST a bit tf patience with yon-.ittiug on an addled egg forever a. If ttere wa. never a freeh un in the world. One old mid'i a J»n« * .-'^^ " ' ""'"^ ■»« be-there', nothing a^wan^tmg to frighten the crows, now I've got my ear-drj^ A. the two Miss Lammeters walked into the large parlor S ;«T^rj^° ^'^ "°* ^"^ «"« o5«««cter%f'^tt might certeinly hare supposed that the reason why the ^luare-shouldered. clumsy, high-featured I^uH^Ja d,l 100 Sn^ MABNIB. ordefto Bet :ff\V;:t\r Cr'STl^ "' "'" "^^ 8elf-forgetfulcheerinea.«!^ ^' ^"' **« good-natured soon hafe di8«paLTtter„« °° """ "* ^^"1« 'ouW from aU diaav^d devicM ""^^ of a mind free JS SXi^^teltw" *".K^^'' ^--*- "- nowlookmg fresh 17 pieasaTt wit^ . '7'^'^'^ P"'^"' My, yew, and laurel from T T."*,l'"'d8ome branches of garden^ and ^A it^litSf S^^^ *^« °" purpose could prevent, when s^e saw^; ol^^'^"'''' "^ >^anoing to lead her to a seat Hp^J T- ,?°'""y ^"^ «arlor Tv ^ Pfn'h-at home grandeur in her experlce. a 2l„, l '^"^ *^' "*^'»°% of have been mistress, ^vSe oon!^ " "** ™8^* °"« day of as "MadamCasi-l^eS^XT^X'^C'*'''''""^^^^^ exalted her inward drama in h« oIT ^"^ eireumstances emphasis w-th which 7eZlZaT^^^\/^^ "^"^P^ed the dazzling rank should induofh^ to^^!""^ *'^* '"'* «>« ""ost duet showed him careless nfl u "'^ * "»° "^^ose con- once, love always, "^^Se motto ofr**'' ''"* """"love and no man sho^d eTer have Tv ,i2 ^' T^ P«« ^'"^> be a call on her to destiny Z dri^^^ ' °'"i^** ''■'"I' '"'^^ -d always wouli treasurtft1iw''c^f,'"«'^'-1. Nancy was capable of keeping her^rfto h!l'^'- ^^ trymg conditions. Kothine but Ihl .t™*" """i" ^e^y moving thoughts that S the^^:"^« ""«!' betrayed tZ oepted the seat next to T^oSenZ' "T •"*' ■"■ "''« ««■ stmctively neat and adrdt kTu w!?,' *°' ^''^ ''^ "o i>- V met each other with suVquierfil'""''' ^/^^'"P^tty iapiiment. He was not in the least SILAS UABNBR. l«t and perhaps a dangerous, effort of abstraction ^ oravSl?sL«rT"'"r'^' '"'"*"8 his head within hi. ;rrri"t7stretLT?sSi';eTS ""r^ the^^hWingonNewV^rElt^tiL*!?^^^^^^^^ n,«^"^ f *^l°° "P^^' ^""^ "^"i'led looking at Nancv rerv markedyr; for though these oompUmentary personS™ I!^ held to be in excellent taste in old-fasU^^d'ISvS l.X' »verent love h^ a politeness of its own whS teaXTto men otherwise of small schoolinif Rnt rto a„ • """^ *° impaH^t at Godfrey's shor^ W^J'f ?dXjkTS!s' way. By this advanced hour of the day, the Squire wLT &st-teble and felt it quite pleasant to fulfil the heredSr duty of being noisily jovial and patronizing: the CrsiW^ ^.T^^l •?v'"°,*'""' *" *™«' ''°''«'«' often they mi«h? have declined the favor. At present, the Squire hfdo^v peared, but always as the evening deepened his hosnitaliAr L tt f^lr^ "u"'" * P"""" ^°'«»"«« for theifpreILT It b^™^ 1*^'* they must feel their lives made hap^^; their belongmg to a parish where there was such a hearL m^ as Squue Cass to invite them and wish them weU "feTi^ ttis early stage of the jovial mood, it wrnlta;al tZ h^ ter"tL* remember a sample to mat«i. i, . I^^i—ding me if I fellow, and thouSitadCi^r^'^r-^ '""•«"« y°«"« you. madam," he added!he^^ "y Pigta.'. No offence t? •at by him, "I di^'*^^^* *» J^- Crackenthorp. who Miss Nancy here " " "" y°" ''«« »« young as gravity. Thatgraye1^o^rPlf^**^"*'*^'»'"P^«°t a jot of his dignSlyTeeml^„'!L^"°^T" °°* 8°^» *» bate between his f^ily ^d^Zt^ h* *^"' "°*^°° °* » "'»t«l' honor paid to his Zghto- bnt^« L,''"/'" «™*^«i by any several ways before his ooL«!. oV'"* »» alteration ii spare but healthy wraonTnTv'w'^ ^ 'ouohsafod. His looked as if it ^^'^fer CflJS.t-^'""^ ^ ^. that contrast, not only wia, fC^ '^^^ *'"^' ^^^ « strong of the Riveloe SmT« ^nerX"i ^"^ ""^ "^^^^ it» saying of his own, thT«tt'2.^ ""^ '^^^ " *''™'- " Miss Nancy's V^derfhll^WK'"°«" *^*" ?«*"«•" isn't she, KimLr"^?S'S,r^tT.f. '''"'«' *^°"«^' round for her husband ^ ^ *'"" """«> booking thaitrssa^^ss'^'"''^'*^-"^''^'^ aan, was flitting about th^ l,m wl \- f « ^ ">« »°d "gile ets, making himself ^b^to h^f ' ^^ ^ ^" ^^■ medical impartiality, Slew«l!r''"'' ^"*°*«' ''''^ tor by hereditary rig^Z^^nlor^"^ everywhere as a doc- a Kimble; Kimble w^ Yn^if ^*^*''* '^°°*<" l-ad been the actual Kimble hTnol ^1.^1'"''^'^''^°^^ ^' "^at day be handed over to a .uZ'aso,^..^ P""*'"" "^'^ht one of Taylor or Johnson But " Tw * "'r«^"°»« °'^« pie in Baveloe would employ ^ *^,f.'"^ *.« ''"e- Peo- unnatural. «"pioy ui. Bliok of Flitton—as less "Did you speak to me, my dear?" ..ij *.. tor, coming quickly to 4 wifeT .wf t . authentic doo- that she would be Lo nml^J ^^ 1 ''"*' "' '* foreseeing he went on imme^-'^f m"'*^*?"!^"* ^^"^"'arkf you revives the taste SS^ts^™™"',,^"'^^'^ '^^ «'»" oi the batch isn't near a^^S^*,'"'^"'^'"'"^"' P°'k-pie. I hope forTKS'ii^t*™;,;^''"'"?' ^ " •>"* ^'" -^^^ well by chance." °^'"^°°^- ^^^ P<»k-pies don't turn out physic and dootorsL ma^yWal dhnll! ^^' ''''""yarded and the olergy-tastingT^oka J^ "?S.^° regard the church health, but ^V^ti^y^oXT ^'"l "^''^ ^'^ ^"^ ^ the matter with him.^K/^ v ^ "^"^ "'^''•^8 ^as with a triumphantTaugh ^^ ^ ^^ *"'* ^^''^ ™™d •^rd^teJ^h'^i^/^lt^^J-^^f^^^ ^r^'" '-."aaid than aUow a brothfr-in'^ ttat .^ ^/"^ *° " '"^^ ^^^^^ »aves a little pepp« t^spri^« „ T*"^'' "'"^ ^^- " She «« why she n"« ^ute rtich?nt„ t' talk-thafs the rea- wife, now, she never hasY^r.. ! ."' P"*" '^^''™''' -y if I offend her, she's su^ to s^^ .\" *""«""'« ^--^i ^ut per the next dky, or eCriveS °'^,"'""'* '^''^ ''"ack pep- Thaf s an awfuf'tit'fo^tefr '^^^' '^':^'*^ watery greens apathetic grimace ^«™ *« ''vacious doctor made mil 104 BttASKABNBR. Sr " but the intention loat iteeir in .^ twitching, an the Eector. ^ ^'' ' «™'^88 againat a patient, " Ui, ^^^l''"t^tl^J^i':!r''o^P^^'>nts," said Mr Wen't the cCceXSLTCer HrM^°V-' ^ he continued, suddenly skiDDimff^v . *» ^"« ^a^oj." forget your promise? Wretrsav^??"°y ! """^ "you won't "Come, come, Kimble don't T^^^°''^''^°^^°^-" Squire. "Give the yoSnJ ° */^- ,*~ *'"''^" ""^d «>« G.odfrey'll be wanting toTfve a J^d ""fK ^'"''''' "^ -» with Miss Kanoy. He'sll^^i^T 7"^/°" " y°" 'un off bebound. Eh,^ir,lll:tS?o;saT? fw ^'''r*'' ^'" To^LrLSryXS ^^^'"^'^^^^ SLt;£o/£sS-^i-°ireS ^^n._toKancyand.ay,ti7riirr=-^;^- 3o:|:i/'rhLS'rn'i''- V°P« ^^^'^-ent-i, biushi^j;:^ °£^WoZ;i;s'''"T '^"^«*^^' «">"«'' senting to dance with UmTe wS l ^°^' °" ^« •mou- thers was no need for C'to'wf.r "^ '^''^"'^^ ""* Baido'olfiXCS to a'^"-^"^ ""•«-« -«> -e," ' thing uncoiiortaVertlS ^ge^r *^* ""^^ ^^ ^^ ' "S' w«?l ^'"'^r'" ^"'"J ^^oy. « a cold tone Ki^tt', ■t^ot^Vm^t^dsrs:'!^'^"'-^^ -le way. Else I'm\.ot so ver^ nU ' ^ T * "'^'^ '" 7°" skipping to his wife's side^aSS '" yL t" ',! -f "^"* °"' having a second after vou w^ wouldn't mind my deal first? » ^°" "'"'' 8«>ue-not if I cried a good BJLAB MABOTBB. ^^ ^A who mm be regardX L. !^. * •""' P"*** *" » hw tanoe at which it oould be h,^!, ^ S^^f ''«8 ''■«^ a dig- people look at each otter wiSTl^'.w*'^ "^-^^ «"« ^onng end of the meal. ^ sympathetic impatience for the ploughboy '-he's for Sg L a h^It" ^' A^^-he-ded a hurry to hear him pla^^ V' ^e^^,,!! *"'"'* """"Sh i^ ong-legged son, who was at tte oth«! -^"I v" *° !>*» tU«l the door, and teU SoCon to 'J*/' «"* °* *« f°«. "open tune here." "^"^ "»• He shall giye ns a Bob obeyed, and Solomon walke,! m fijji- to he would on no account b7^!fffTn 1 '""'•5 "^ ^* "^"^ed, "Here, Solomon," said fh?X. ? " *** "'•'*'^'« of a tune "Bound here, my'maT {v t\""' ^'^ '""d Patio^ h^edploughbo/'.Tere'fl'oLt^^^J*,- '^« «^- 4X?Sh--lsrnS|^ r r — prmu^h---aeiSr«^^^^^ he respected the key-note more IT^n ^^^^ '^°^gi the tune and lowered his fiddle h«it. J^ *" ^^ ^"^ "Peated and the Rector, and sa^ «i ^.m i*^! "^'^ *° ^^ S«»'™ 'everence well, and wising Vou^LT y<7 honor and your happy New Year. aTw^W T^^ *"'* '''°8 '"« ""d a "nent by Mr. LammeteT ^^ taken as a special compU- "Thank ye, Solomon, thank va" «.irf m t > ■«i.>e, said Mr. Lammetor when i!ll SILAS JUHW«R. .< i ■i 106 the fiddle paused aaain "Ti..t> • ,^ «w.y,' that \ mS., „^*' ^' "»• W"« "W f heard that tune, 'L.H±IolX^^ *° ""•' ''«""« ' away. ' There-i a mij ti«7L^r T *" '""J" "•« So Solomon, holding hig white h«H „ •ng vigorously, marched for^^.t tf «t T ^^'' "^^ P'-'y cewion into the White Pa^LTwhe™ tv« « ' "^^ P"" hung, and multitudinous tallow ^ll r'*^etoe-bough was f^t, gleaming from ZoTfteT,^LTlf "*^*^ " l'"l"a"t fleeted in theold.fashio^ed^,*''„^':f-^f y^'-gbs. '^^ ™- of the white wainscot. A au^„T '^""^ '° ^^^ Pa^eh. in his seedy clothes and itrXiteCkr"' S'^ ^^°"-' that decent company bv the milt ' '**"^ *° be luring -""creet mtronrt^Sril.X*^«««^ °^ ^" Addle-luring thorp herself, the summ^f "^.^ ^P^' »«y. ^rs. Cracken! on a level with the Squire's lonM ^ T"^'""^ ^^^^ was Ph«>ently conscious of ^ short i»-7^"^« '"" ^•^•> "o^- of front fold^^Iuringb?::^ short wa.st. and skirts blameless foate, and ruddy sofs. for the m^fn^^:'^'*''*'"* ''"''*- :s^r."rtnitK££-;^-^ta greatwa.theadmirationKt£L^""'';f *^« '*«»5 and the couples had formed ftemJlTv™ 7 ?v*^* ^'''''*^ when Squire led off with Mrs. CnSZ-*^' *"''•'' "^d the Eectorand Mrs. OsgoS ^!^^°^' ^""""K ''ands with the what everybody had^Sn uS tHn^'d T"^'^ '^**"* '«« seemed to be renewed by ZV^T *^«/^arter of Paveloe 8ILA8 MABNXR. j^ ''ith due frequency, paZ«'e^ft'°«^«^"'*' «d Po«?tr? jokea urging your gneste to enkH'^l''""-*^"^ P«™<«1 ho»p.tal.ty, and eattog w,d d^V^^^,*™"' too mud. out of •»r's house to Bhowthat you W^i * ^ f ""* ^ y"" nwRli- »on uaturaUy eat anSple Sl/°" **"*'' ^1 «»« JS- ifould not have been ™^S! Z ^ "*^ d°««»- F^H peotUiar revelation, to'Tow that Vtu'^^'''^ ""^-J. without a faced memento of golemniTil • "f^'^y^i^ 'iouid be a pde- ^ whoee excluBiveSX' T^ "" * «"o„-bly f.^J ohrwten, marry, and burv^nn ^ I^'^^" ""d preach to nght to sell y^' the'g^"Xb:«tS'7 «-«.tod'S'th^ '° kmd; on which last w^t „f ""»nd to take tithe gambling, but not to^e St o^ ?","•''. "'«'•'"«' » "We ■'ot^''i^?.e°d ^' o?S; Jfi^*^" ^^''» ^'^i^e Bhonld « the Squire's, or^^Ty, on'S, „^? °/ '^«« •»"'*« « S euvl respect should resSaL S^S ^•'^' *^- ^^^'^ "^ Performance to thrt «Sm^itt wV 1 ^'**^« *^« P^^m'a "7«««tenes8m„stn««n7'^J^'«\'»in" •"<*'»« opportunity of W tad fwhng h.d got the m„te,y of hi. tongue. N^"v r^ «-^ndu.g too .trong for h« rou«d lOl h., pow„ of S- aJdl^""! •* «^ t" «^ • good oh«>ge ta anybody, Mr. Godfrey," ghe aniwered, with the alighteat digoernible diffe^ eno. o^ tone, "but it 'ud be better ifl ohan7w« wtt3 ' "Y,^ m^'^''"'*"'"*^ Nanoy,"«udG^re" ^ttSSy. You might encourage me to be a better fellow I'm "e^ mieerable-but you've no feeling " ^ Biii'iitt"'^«1'rv'"''' "■"i*"' *'^"°« *^' ~" "-""g to be- SS^ri !nf ^w'l"' *"' "*"• fl"^' »"'» ''°»M have .„™ f T ""^ ""''* ^" «"""' 'it* him J Nanoy was w ^peratmgly quiet and firm. But .he wa. not tadiffeTt to aX'.TopS^oJa'JSr "• ^~'' " *^^' «°-'" -* »^ ''I .uppoee I muHt go now," he said to Pri.oiUa. « s no matter to me whether you go or .tay." »id that fc^ Wy^eeardung for ^methtag'ta hi po^t^wi^a ^ wjio was now gtanding up by Prisoilla'. order. ooldnesa^lf Wt^^^""'^' *'y'°» *° "^^" "^l »"» fo™» '^h™ ?^V^''"'8 "l^r "^rf-Jly "t the hem of her gown, mination to^r . "*^l »"d Godfrey, with a reolde.» feterl mmation to get as much of this joy as he could to-nieht and thmk nothing of the morrow. »>-mgixt, and us >n.Aii lURNn. CHAPTEB XII. Wmi. Godfrey Ou. wm taking dnw-hta of fe«»f*„i worn the tweet preeenoe of Smn«, Jmi i . . "»«Wnlae« tut hidden bond^oh .t^^{' ^'1' '*'"» »" «•"• «< •now-oovered iUrt^W •'!!""'?"'•? ''•P' """"ffh the v«.g«»ni,wh4 .hfw^tSm he, htl^r""^""''* *'* <" in a fit of pMaion had f!^?l\ t ^'^•^'^ ■""'• Godfrey, aoknowledgXihtlS The,,",'' ut"""" ^'' ""^ the Red Houae on >W yL'. Ev! .^^1^ ' «[*' '"^J' »' would be «nuling„d.lueruL,nh'iH ^'"^.her hu.biu>d dwkest comer of his hwt B^ li, *,^"' ""*•'«"' «" "^e .he would go in h."i^^?' '"t! 7"'^ ?" J« ?!««»«.: handsome M the best wirt r^ J'^ .'" '"^"^ '««•. °noe as "on'swife. It isseirmXfT ^ *^f,^»i'e «» his eldest their n,i,,ry al a w^g iSSoSl bT^T '*'^ "«""•"» .ble Molly know tha? the o^e of ^ lb "V" '°"*"- her husband's neBleat. hntt),- j \:v f ^KT "8« was not enslaved, body Souf xt J^^S °P"""'. '<""><'« -he was demess that refused to ti!»^f k v '"■«»""? mother's ten- I this well, LT^i^ir^Z^" hungry chUd. Shekrew con«,ious^^, Csl^of C f'T*"^'^ unben„n>bed formed itself 'conLuZ £o buX "'* degradation trans- was well off; and if^e h^d her1,T T"^ ^^°^^- ^' too. The belief that he rel^T''!.''^*' "°"''» •* "«" °« ^r- it, only aggravate^r .tadio ven^'^r:/ 'f^7/ reproving thoughts do not oome to .IZtTikklv * 'f ' purest air and with the hA«f iJ. V?^ thickly, even m the 8ho.Ud those wWtewtL^lrr''"'" """^ """'^' ''°' t» Molly's poi«o:!:iTh^ttSbrj^^^^^^^^ ^^^^ -^ than those of a barmaid's p^adi^enf .j Y^uu'*"" """'°"«^ men's jokes? Paradiae of pmk ribbons and gentle- She had set out at an early hour, but had lingered on the the i.a«.tion of ^^£.7^^^^^^^^^^^^ 'T" "*" from failing. It wu sev.n J^i!^ j u °} ^**P '"" 'PW not ve^ fJJ fromllvZ bu "h^ wu 11" T "' "• with thow monotonou. lani to knot h?. T'^ •°°"«' Jo«n.ey.. end. She n.."^ ^mf ^^dX t. H *^ "" oomforter— the familia.- d«mm, ™'\""» "e knew but one a n>oment,.fte;^tu.; ri bl^""' but .he he.it.ted »i»«d it to her line InTh.? ^^ "ninwit, before .he which there oame now^Tt^nUe^L/"^"'* '"°"*^' *"»" •tar, for a freezing Crnrhadrn,':? ' • "' '."^"'"^'^ ^*"'"* J«.hed.oreand.oreaut:-:;:S;reXtS^'tr,J unm-diate C^r^'at c'^t off l,?SStv'"'t.* 7^"""' to lie down and sleeo ShBhlH <>= wi lutur.ty-the longing foot.tep.werenobngeritdbvThJ'* ' '^^^^^^^^^ wandered vaguely mmhle ThI!? ^ » ''» ^^^ soft- She the zt:it:i'^,z sir sr •"^•^ f ^^^^ jret ™iaxed their in.tinctive^oIutoh .nd ^ fLu'"' '"'1 •"" bered on as gently as if if h.^vl ' 1 , '"'* °"« "'""»- cradle ^ ^'^ •**" ■^~''«<1 " " laee-trinuned Ill 8II' mammy's ward a^Zy 2, the o^rT^ ^ "^ ^"^P^« "-"y '»«"- k^ees, all weHdihe^o?^'* ~"'^ '*°''°'"<' »» i** mother's glaaoigLTtonSewSH:, "^'Z T '"'»«''* ^ » bright bright living ^"LTts/^!:? „^ -^^V ^ That brieht livina t>,i„„ "*« ™wara it, yet never arrivine. the child hadZJJofa^"/ ^ ""^f" ""^ ^ "^ ^'^^ to catoh the gltr But^'T™*""^ "1.' ""* °°« """« '"^'i the warn h^ wh«,! ?^ *"'"'' °°"^''' '^•^ "gtt up to '.ticks, whfA i^hlv ^"^ a bright fire of logs Ld greatcoat) spread outTn^^i\'Tf .*" "^^ """^ (Silas's accustomed tobVleft to if^l, M" *° ^'^ ^''^ ""l" »"«. from its molr^l^rdll" °f,f '"'T ''''*°''* "">««« tiny hands towa^dlhe wl t „erfe^^ ^""^ "-^ ^P"*^ its and making many inartSt« i ■ •=<'°*«°*°'e°«» gurgling fire, like a ne^haSl^*! communications to the cheerful fortable. But pr^^Jtir «1 w! ST/ '^ ^^ '"^ «"">- the little goldenZd Ink II^?*^,'"'1 ; '"'^"^ ««««*. """J eyes were%eiled brth'i^i'Cte^^^ °^<^ '^^ ^^ the blue But vrhere was SH,. m . ., *'*°*P"™* ^^- come to ht h:^''\^:r i^s: *^;j -'""k^" ^''"'°' ^""^ see the child. Durin,? O^l W% *be cottage, but he did not -noney, he had coSSTh/r.Tl'' ''"''« ^^^ '"'''^ '°«* >>'« looking out from tiZ to tim? , V' °* °P«°'"« bis door and might t somehol": l^g'^r to t!'7^H ^ '" """"^^ some news of it mmht h» ™"* *° bim, or that some trace. SILAS MAHMiB. Its •Migned no definite purpose, and which can hardlr be nnH-^ 8tood except by those who have undergone a b3,Hn ration from a supremely loyed obi^ L ST '^''•'""8 "«!«• lighti and later whenever thi night ^ n^d^rl V^f 'J^- out on that narrow prospect n^d thelton -Ss 'lisS;!^^:^ gazmg, not with hope, but with mere ye^i^gld S J';twrs;:n:aSra^'irfir f f -^^-" theold year rung out L?Lre:'r;S,tl^'2?^ srmitht^uX'da'^^^ rci^rdTs^i;^ -rs r ---"^3^^^;:^ W on the^S^-the'^Cto 2eT!brhe'a"*, '^. r * :IeL-rb=ro.-JS4rJdsS^^^^^^^ with wide but sightless eye^S^gX^nUsa^Z T" mysteriously ^fr^"J'''''^J'^-^"'"8lit ^"^^ ^ Wm ^ mysteriously as it had been taken awayl He felt his hew? 116 BILAS HABHliR m begin to beat violeatly, and for a few moments he was unable to stretch out his hand and grasp the restored treasure. The heap of gold seemed to glow and get larger beneath bis agitated pze. He leaned forward at last, and stretched forth 1 hand- but instead of the hard coin with the familiar resisti outline, his fingers encountered soft warm curls. In uttei amazement, SUas fell on his knees and bent his head low to exanunethe marvel: it was a sleeping ohUd— a round, fair thmg, with soft yellow rings all over its head. Could this be his little sister come back to him in a dream— his little sister whom he had carried about in his arms for a year before she died, when he was a small boy without shoes or stookinKs" That was the first thought that darted across Silas's hlLk wonderment. Was i^ a dream? He rose to his feet again pushed his logs together, and, throwing on some dried leaves and sticks, raised a flame; but the flame did not disperse the vision-it only Ut up more distinctly the little round form of ae child, and its shabby clothing. It was very much like his littlo sister. Silas sank into his chair powerless, under the double presence of an inexplicable surprise and a hurrying in- flux of memories. How and when had the chUd come in with- out his knowledge? He had never been beyond the door. mt along with that question, and almost thrusting it awav, there was a vision of the old home and the old streets leading to Lantern Yard— and within that vision another, of the thoughts which had been present with him in those far-off soenM. The thoughts were strange to him now, like old friendships impossible to revive; and yet he had a dreamy feelmg that this child was somehow a message oome to him from that far-off life: it stirred fibres that had never been moved m Raveloe-old quiverings of tenderness-old impres- sions of awe at the presentiment of some Power presiding over his life; for his imagination had not yet extricated itself from the sense of mystery in the child's sudden presence, and had formed no conjectures of ordinary natural means by which the •vent could have been brought about. But there was a cry on the hearii: the child had awaked, and Marner stooped to lift it on hU knee. It clung round his neck, and burst louder and louder into that mingling of iuar- SILAS UARNER. iir ttTttiU "^^"J^J^J " by which Uttle ohUdren expresa Uie bewilderment rf waking. Silaa pressed it to him, and almost unconsciously uttered sounds of hushing tendeiiiess wlule he bethought himself that some of his pof rid™ whTch h^ got cool by the dying fire, would do to f eedZ chUd J tJ If It were only warmed up a little. He had plenty to do through the next hour. The porridge. i«^^u i'""".""^** • '""''•'"' ''*°PP«-unwv ™^"'?- ,^^«'?:i^8f°'-^"d. he could just discern tne maS thl trick : J^'i"' "r ^^'«^ '"">^' "^-J »■« follow^ theu track to the furze bushes. "Mammy!" the little one ^cape from Silas s arm, before he himself was aware th^ there was somethmg more than the bush before him-that ^ere was a human body, with the head sunk low in the in^ and half-covered with the shaken snow. ^ 118 SILAS MARNXR CHAPTER XIII. It was after the early supper-time at the Bed House, and Uie entertainment was in that stage when bashfulness itself had passed into easy jollity, when gentlemen, oonsoious of unusual accomplishments, could at length be prevailed on to dance a hornpipe, and when the Squire preferred talking loud- ly, scattering snuff, and patting Ms visitors' backs, to sitting longer at the whist-table— a choice exasperating to uncle Kim- ble, who, being always volatUe in sober business hours, became intense and bitter over cards and brandy, shuffled before his adversary's deal with a glare of suspicion, and turned up a mean trump-card with an air of inexpressible disgust, as if in a world where such things could happen one might as well enter on a course of reckless profligacy. When the evening had advanced to this pibjh of freedom and enjoyment, it was usual for the servants, the heavy duties of supper being well over, to get their share of amusement by coming to look on at the dancing; so that the back regions of the house were left in lohtude. There were two doors by which the White Parlor was en- tered from the hall, and they were both standing open for the sake of air J but the lower one was crowded with the servants and villagers, and only the upper doorway was left free. Bob Cass was figuring in a hornpipe, and his father, very proud of this lithe son, whom he repeatedly declared to be just like himself in his young days in a tone that implied this to be the very highest stamp of juvenile merit, was the centre of a group who had placed themselves opposite the performer, not far from the upper door. Godfrey was standing a Uttle way off not to admire his brother's dancing, but to keep sight of Nancy' who was seated in the group, near her father. He stood aloof, because he wished to avoid suggesting himsel* as a sub- ject for the Squire's fatherly jokes in connection with matri- mony and Miss Nancy Lammeter's beauty, which wern .ikely to tecome more and more explicit. But he had the prospect of dancing wth her again when the hornpipe was oonoludeu SILAS HABITBIL 119 •nd in the mew whUe it was very pleasant to g«t long glance, at her quite unobserred. But when Godfrey was lifting his eyes from one of those long glances, they encountered an object as startling to him at that moment as if it had been an apparition from the dead It wo* an apparition from that hidden life which lies, Uke a dark by-street, behind the goodly ornaaented facade that meets the sunlight and the gaze of respectable admirers It was his own child carried in Silas Mamer's arms. That was his mstantaneons impression, unaccompanied by doubt, thoueh he had not seen., child f ■ ..onths past, and when the hope was rising that h« might possibly be mistaken, Mr. Cracken- thorp and Mr. Lammeter had already advanced to Silas, in astonishment at this strange advent Godfrey joined tiem immediately, unable to rest without hearing every word- trying to control himself, but conscious that if any one taimuL ' ^"^ ""'* ^ *^* ^* "^ white-lipped and But now all eyes at that end of the room were bent on Silas M«neritte Squire himself had risen, and asked angrily, inl^fs w?"-''"* ' ''"'-"•"' '" ^°" '° ---« -^- "I'm come for the dootor_I want the doctor," Silas had said, in the first moment, to Mr. Craokenthorp. " my, what's the matter, Mamer? " said the rector. « The doctor s here; but say quietly what you want him for." It s a woman, " said Silas, speaking low, and half-breath- lessly, just as Godfrey came up. « She's dead, I think—dead m the snow at the Stone-pits— not far from my door " Godfrey felt a great throb : there was one terror in his mind at that moment: it was, that the woman might not be dead, rhatwaa an evU terror-an ugly inmate to have found a nest- Img-plaee in Godfrey's kindly disposition; but no disposition 18 a security from evU wishes to a man whose happiness hangs on duplicity. ■ "Hush, hush I " said Mr. Crachenthorp. " Go ..ut into the hall there. I'll fetch the doctor to you. Pound a woman in fte snow-and thinks she'., dead," he added, spe-aking low, to he Squire. '• Better say as little about it as possible : it will ■V mil 130 BIIA8 MARMSa I'll ik weaver there under euoh .trange cuZftaLS^ Stte^S the rest iZlv T T* T*"^ '»'"'"' *' °°««. >^^ among " ?^ ' u?^ I*n"neter, addresgbg Godfrey. ^ "> "« the an" w. I M-'.^ir^"""""'" "^ ^as been found in ' -'^^^rd^t^ra-r is h:^Trs;^. Mamer," said good-natured Mrs. Kimble "Uitti;„^ ever, to take those dingy clothes into oonkot ^^T«/ "^ ornamented «.tin bodice^ " I'U teU o^e" of te^ to fe^^^S .bil^" Vi:^'' f:* ''** i^ I -^'t 1«* it 80, " said Silas, TT,» L,^t ' *° me_I've a right to keep it. " oMd. °"^ ''*' ^"^ "^ '^**°<'* i^t^^tion about the su;St,rhre!gTbor """'" ^'^ ^'- ^^>'" ^ -"^ "Now, ladies, I must trouble you to stand aside " said Mr S£;x!rr.erb^t:rg trof^f t- mto Obedience to unple«sa/t caUs, eeSe^h'e^CS; thelquiJ;,°"^H^3 ir^^ °?' '""'• '^ K'^^J"?" «^<' 'prenSrtheriwffiht nC/S' ^'^ ^-« ^'"o-'h, "Hight? ay-what's the use of talking about might?" and he said thS^Sat r Sa'^Trr "'^'r '• and rao, and there was nohorfv f^ kT^ ^ ^ "'*^* ''«<» house, and bo I .J" to Se th^ccT *' *'" ""''' °' '^•' JS;;Ser ?r sr to' '^ ^^^^.s^'S -d the though always olSg to'^a^e^w^.^'l' '" " ""^'^'' " her thorough confine gS T^ "^ W'^ently won ^^andfeltthecryas^rreterTd^awXttiS! «o.;^?f!:^?c:^lSr:'^LX^^^ "^'^ U, pooh — send somebodv else " «;/) ,,„~i -n-- , . ing away with Maraer. ' ™"'' ^"»"«' l""^" '' You'll let me know if T nan k« »* rrt^irsfeTS-nr--^^^^^^^^ i.ou. into the snJ^ti^i^.Ll'^^^^^^^ °^ ^« his feet wet under afiEile ^°™« gentlenian's getting ^ you if y^d be so gSr tell tl^ TV"'"' »"'» I'^ your way back-he's at rt. p u ^ '""'^'* *° """e. on hnn any^he" sot' et^^htf I' usfV''/°'' ^°»°^ Mrs. Snell 'ud hanDen JnltK. v. *• *''' «'"«> there's ^.e«.ay^irrteJ'fi^^^^^^^^ No, 1 11 stay, now I'm once out-I'll stay outside he.^." i U3 8ILAB HARHXH. WW Godfr^, when they oame opposite Haner's oottM Yon can come and teU me if I can do anything." "Well, sir, you're very good : yon'ye a tender heart," «ai Dolly, going to the door. Godfrey was too painfuUy preooonpied to feel a twinge c self-reproach at this undeserved praise. He walked up an down, ^conscious that he was plunging ankle-deep in snoi. nnconsoions of everything but trembling suspense about wha was gomg on in the cottage, and the effect of each alternativ on hjs future lot. No, not quite unconscious of every thin, f^AA ^^J^""^' "^d half-smothered by passionate desiJ and dread, there was the sense that he ought not to be wait mg on these alternatives; ths.'. he ought to accept the conse quences of his deed^ own the miserable wife, and fulfil th. claims of the helpless child. But he had not moral conra« enough to contemplate that active renunciation of Nancy at possible for him: he had only conscience and heart enough to make him forever uneasy under the weakness that forbade the renunciation. And at this moment his mind leaped away from all restrwnt toward the sudden prospect of deliverance from nis long bondage. " ^' '^X^^'' " '^^ «*e ">J«» th** predominated over every other withm him "If she is, I may marry Nancy; and then t).*^u \*I^ ^•^''"' ^ ^*""' ^^ '"»^"' "o «»«>*». "Id the child-shall be taken care of somehow." But across that vision came lie other possibility-" She may live, and then It's all up with me." Godfrey never knew how long it was before the door of the cottage opened and Mr. Kimble came out. He went forward to meet his uncle, prepared to suppress ihe agitation he must reel, whatever news he was to hear. first^ ^"^^ ^°' ^°"' ^ ^'^ "^"^ "* *"'" ^^ **•"*' "P**^8 "Pooh, it was nonsense for you to cou.e out: why didn't you send one of the men? There's nothing to be done. She's dead— has been dead for hours, I should say." "What sort of woman is she? "said Godfrey, feeling the blood rush to his face. * "A young woman, but emaciated, with long black hair. SILAS MARNIR. laa "I want to look at her," .aid Godfrey. «i think I mw taoh a woman yasteidav I'll r...rf..i,« • "'^ ^^ _^ jrwieroay. i u overtake you m a minute or U^'' H^^/'f °"' f*^ ^~^y *»"'«^ "^k to the oot- ^hT;.. l^lT '?"^^°'"' «^'"'''"' »* **"> "l^d f"" on the pillow d^e end «J 1^. "' '"" ""^PPy ^"^^^ "«« "«> 'eU, that at «nf ft ^^u y**" "^^^ ^^« i» «»« worn face waapre^ ent to hun when he told the full story of this nig^t ^ He turned immediately toward the hearth, where Silas Mar- Z ^^ *"""'*,*^'' '^^ She was perfeotiy q^et n^w C not asleep-only soothed by sweet po^idge ^d waSiZ ftat wide-gazing calm which makes^is oMer hu^rSinT wrth our inward tormoU, feel a certain awe in the p^se^^e rf ahtae child, such as we feel before some quiet E^^ beau^ in the earth or sky-before a steady gHng pffi or ^C^The'^l*""^ » «•« bending asTvL'lrln pat *ay The wide-open blue eyes looked up at Godfrev'« wittout any uneasiness or sign of recognition : aiechUdS make no visible audible oUim on itsfether, anltte f^„ !^t .h P T^'".'^ '*''^8^' « «'°"fli«* of regret LdS hat the pulse of that Uttle heart had no response for Te iSl l^i^TT '" '?.°'^' "*">» ""• blue eyes Led awfy from him slowly, and fixed themselves on the weaver's qTwr .2l h f J" ^' ^^ '*°'° *° l^-k " thenf, thUe ae Zf^t^ *" P"" Mamer-awitheredcheek Vith lovSg^ "You'U take the child to the parish to-morrow?" asked Godfrey, speaking as indifferently The could. me ieVeT;."'" ""' '^''- '''"^^'^- '"^^^ *bey make JhSii^ryor?^^'' ""• *" ''•^p ^''' "'""'^'^ y— o^-j mr-^i-in?*"^^ shows they've a right to take her away from me, »aid Harner. "The mother's dead, and I reckon it^ got no father: it's a lone thing-and I'm a lone t^ My in f^ *h^m tu BILAB lURMIR. thing toward finding it o!^he.^?^^" ' °" »*^' •^•■ .n?'fK "^ r' '^'' .^'* ■" ^^ !»«'•* •nd fonnd kalf • guinea. s rae'^Mrs; ^'"^' '• ^-^-^ - »'^- - "Ah, I »ee it'g not the same woman I saw " he ■>•.) .. ».« w*^: ^^ee^i? 'S'J^ r = *^''^^ i STsS "luji, TO Keep It, that * strange for a miser like him Rnf t fuI^V^-.lif?"',*" ^''^ ^^ »"*= theparirisn^likJy to quarrel with hjm for the right to keep the child." ^ with hiin for it'^r/'lS'^t^^TJ "'«'' ^•' •I"""""'' nkiij ~ ■ 1 A ™y"»«- It s too late now, thouRh. If thn child ran mto the fire, your aunt's too fat t,^ overtS^e i" ste could only sit and grunt like an alarmed sow But wh.f you want to spite her by spoiling your pumps? » J J,5" P"!"'""*'"" aod white lies which a mind that keens Godfrey reappeared in the White Parlor with dry feet anH since the truth must be told, with a sense r«,lief and ekd would he r«^Z™.q .1 ° ''"'«" •*»* ''■s dead wife wouJd be recognized: those were not days of active inquiry UI,AB MABlfXR. Ill «d »id. MpoH, «d M for th. regirt^ of tkelr rn^W h« h^ 'T*; tun, out «, much betirr for . nuu. tlun h, 2^6 .Zi^? ^^ bl«n,worth, than it might otherwiw tfutif i.^i ■ : »" not altogether unmeritor ou», and ««rour own good fortune. Where, after aU, would he S« ftT. IL ."^'l.''""- ^ '" *^« "Wld, he would Me that Sf^w^.^* .1°'" ■'■ ^""^P' '* ''""W be jit a. happy ^ Me without bemg owned by it. father, seeig that notedy ~uld tell how thing, would tu.n out, and thatii, tte«^y other reason wanted?_well, then, that the father wo"d^ much happier without owning the chad. CHAPTEB XIV. Thb^ was a pauper', burial that week in Bayeloe. and nn Kenoh Yard at Batherley it wa. known that ihj dStSr^ taken that Molly had disappeared from the eye. of men. But ^e unwept death which, to the general lot, Lmed m triyUl thy to ^'"'7'"^ '*!^' "" '^f^ ^^^ "•« forego de^ my to certain human liyes that we know of, .haping theL joys and sorrow, eyen to the end. ^ wJ^ra^TJh t^™^-"*'"" *^ keep ^he "tr«np's oL-ld" fee^^ Jkanjhe robbery of hi. money. That softening of me Sf„^7 "^ "^^^ ^"^ ^""° ^^ mirfortune, Lt merging of .u.pioion and diriike in a rather oontemptuoni • il IM SILAfl MARMXR ^ r ' S^ !L " '°°t •"'^ "^' "" "o" «««»n.p«i.d with . "Eh, Master M«nier,"Mud Dollv "n..~>. «_ n . ^ great oeremon/witi «oap and waJr f«' wh'tT',!? *° " man cated by alternate «>und. o? " ™^Sj» td^'" °°°'" my. " The " mammy " was not a «!^ „f^ *i*' ^ """' Baby had been used to ulter ?t tif.. ^. '"^ °' uneasiness. Bound or touch to folL °"* "^"^^8 "*''" *«"<'«' tier " ^jfl^;,"** "Tu'^ *^" '"^ « ''-"ven couldn't be pret- «, Mm ssongtt It H) your door, Master Maraer. The BOAB MARKUl ur ??.l'' *^. ""* ** '"'*'*» i' °w the snow, like u if it hjd^b^n . little ..«„d robin. Didn't you ^ tTe'd::, wi* "Yes^- I4id SilM, meditatiTely. "Ve^-the door w« 9«d to the fact he himself suspeoted-namelv, that he hi^ been in one of his trances. andt!l;"jl!f'*^°"'' "''^•"'tking gravity, "it's like the night ^It^Tr* '""^ '^' '^-P^ ""1 t^' ""king, and Z n^ and the harvest-one goe- and the other comes, ^d we fend, but It s httJe we can do arter aU-the big things come and go wi no striving o' our'n-they do. that Lj do^^I think you're in the right on it to k^p Uie UtUe^nn" M«t ^, uer seemg as it's been sent to yo,., thcgh there's "iks M thinks different. You'll happen be a bit moithw^ wi^ i whU. It's so lictlej but I'll come, and weloome,3^ to t for you: I ve a bit o' time to spare meet days^'f^ wZ^e t^ta up betimes i' the morning, the clock sims t^ T^' s^ tow'rt ten^ afore It's time to go about the victual. Z Tl « tV.-^""' ""* "^^ *•'- °^^^ ^°' y°^ "d welcome '" "VnZ 1^°"/ • •„^'*ly'" »«id SUM, hesitating a little. I U be fclad If you'U tell me things. But," he Tdded Tn- easUy, leaning forw«d to look at Baby wiUi some jeLC as shewas restmg her head backward against DoUv^^' and eying him contentedly fro^ a distan^"Bri wanTS do thing, for it my«,lf, else it may get fond o' someboly e sT and not fond o' me. I've been used to fending for my i^^ the house-I can learn, I can learn." ^ "J!h, to be sure," said Dolly, genUy. "I've «»» ™.„ ... are wonderful handy wi' chUdreL^ ^e „en ^^'e aTk'^d »nd w 'Z"'""^' ""^ "^^ '^"-''»* winrsrourof ald'hiU" •^•T'-iWe. a«'U8l' they're bad for leeching .hi ::?pS;:i4u'on" '^'^ ^"^' *^^» "^ ^^ ""»• i v ' ' i 1» SILAS HARNER. lips against Ms facf XXti^r """^ ""^ ^"* '«'' neV'SS- "butlw*^; Jr '* ^"'*« •^'y' *^«*«' Mar- to sit fn voar l^m? F^r rim"" 7u" ^° "^"^ y°"'™ ^"•'^i of her reach • but if Mf. 1 ^? ^^P* **« ^"^ ™o™ out broke, or:sisfittfcrhe;Xrori^,rat'", "P"'" 18 but right you should know » ' '^ ** '*-""^ '' SILAS MARNEa 129 »^h W ttl. BW. „., „^, „„„, „^, ^ ^ ^ Mamer's pale face flushed suddenly under a new anxietv and was much concerned to know when,*, Z ^i ,1 produce the desired effect on SilT He wL . ^"'is would ious, for Dolly's word "ohnllf " ^ T ^"^^'^"^ '^'^ *"" ".easing to hL He h.f f u** /""^^y""* "° "i"**""* ->lv sefn rt.„ir'« . *^ °°'y ^^"^ °^ •'apt"°>. and had "wZ tX^^""^ °f g^^^-^P "len and women. timiS " Won't^?oVT^ by'christened'?" he said at last. "nil', -, > V, ^ ^ 8°°^ *° J"*' without it? " 130 SILAS UARNKR. [! if thatl^l»^ ? ^.'° a low voice; "I knuw a deal about ttat-used to, u^d to. But your ways are different; my fT LT " '^ """^ °^-" He paused a few momentB. ^d ^Ty^^"^ n-ore decidedly. "But I want t» do everytttag a. can be done for the child. And whateyer's right for it i- ttk joioed, 1 11 ask Mr. Maoey to speak t» the parson about it- and you must fix on a name for it, because ^J^L? have , name gi v' it when it's christened. " liHU^- r^^^'^ °"°« ''as Hephzibah," said Silas, "and mv little Slater was nained after her." ' . 1^^ *''.**'^ * ^""l "a™«." said Dolly. " I partly think it isn't a christened name." ^ 2''' * f,'''^^ °a»«'" 8"d Silas, old ideas recurring. 8taHlr>. «t °° u*^ *,° "I*^ ^8"^' **'" said "'"Uy, rather startled by Silas's knowledge on this head; " but you see I'm noscholard and I'm slow at catching th; words.^ My hu^ h,^ VT ■/ *',''* says-for he's very sharp, God help him But It was awk'ard caUing your little sist^i by such a I' We called her Eppie," said Silas. Sls^r r;. Y- '° ^'" «°"''^' Master Mam'e"a^d ;>. ^, .'"'f' "^^ otnstening afore dark; and I wish you the best o' uck,.and it's my belief as it'll c^me to y^uif you ktiT^t^ L"^^* 'f *^ i"P^^ ohUdi-and there's Ve W lataon to be seen to; and as to washing its bits o' things, you need look to nobody but me, for I can do 'em wi' onf h^d let me bring my Aaron one o' these days, and he'll show her his ittle cart as his father's made for iS, and the bC and white pup as he's got a-rearing. " Baby was chrUtened, the Eector deciding that a double ban- ^iThi^Lr'^"' *°r"' "^^ °" *^^ occasion s£ mak^g himself as clean and tidy as he could, appeared for the SILAS HARnXR. 131 first time within the church, and shared in the observances held sacred by his neighbors. He was quite unable, by means of anything he heard or saw, to identify the Baveloc religion with hiB old faith ; if he could at any time in his previous life have done so, it must have been by the aid of a strong feeling ready to vibrate with sympathy, rather than by a compariwjn of phrases and ideas: and now for long years that feeling had been dormant. He had no distinct idea about the baptism and the church-going, except that DoUy had said it was for the good of the child; and in this way, as the weeks grew to months, the child created fresh and fresh links between his life and the lives from which he had hitherto shrunk continu- ally into narrower isolation. Unlike the gold which needed nothmg, and must be worshipped in close-locked solitude— which was hidden away from the daylight, was deaf to the song of birds, and started to no human tones— Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing desires, seeking and loving sunshine, and living sounds, and living movements; makmg trial of everything, with trust in new joy, and stirring the human-kindness in all eyes that looked on her. The gold had kept his thoughts in an ever-repeated circle, leading to nothing beyond itself; but Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes that forced his thoughts onward, and ear- ned them far away from their old eager pacing toward the same blank limit— carried them away to the new things that would come with the coming years, when Eppie would have learned to understand how her father SUas cared for her; and made him look for images of that time in the ties and charities that bound together the families of his neighbors. The gold had asked that he should sit weaving longer and longer, deaf- ened and blinded more and more to all things except the mo- notony of his loom and the repetition of his web; but Eppie called him away from his weaving, and made him think all its pauses a holiday, reawakening his senses with her fresh life, even to the old winter-flies that came crawling forth in the early spring sunshine, and warming him into joy because »he had joy. And when the sunshine grew strong and lasting, »o that the buttercups were thick in the meadows, SUas might be seen in lil I ft :i M I ' !' 1» 8ILA8 MARNEB. ?e« rj£7^l\'^« l^'^ '^— when the .hado.. covered head to oTrylD^L r^^'Tfl""""^* °"' "^^ »"• thefloweragrewTS^Svpi «"« /tone-pits to where he oould sit-in whIL!*^^;^?P"« ^''^""te ba^ where and make remark^ to^e wZd^tt fh f "' *'* ''''''^"' pUy above the bright petl^T^ailit "n^*,'".?™"'^'* ''^P" continuaUybybrinU&e1Sr;''S^^^^^ her ear to some sudden hi,H „ * I „., ®° ""^ '^°^^ t^rn her by making s^s Shiedt^w S.Us learned to please for the note to come agaiT so tW ^'^'* "^'^ ""'«''' "«'«» her small back and lauXd wit^c^ ''^'° " """"^ «^« »«' »P on the banks in this waf Sill t ^'f""? '""""P^" Sifi-S miliar herbs aga n Id 'as t!,^«*° *° ''~'' ^°' *^« °°«« f^ ouUine and mSgTtron t "^7' ''l* t^ei^ unchanged crowding remembrl^^^s fLm wh ch t^H*"':^ "" ^ '^°«'°^ SiT-i? ^-- ---^-" 3;tt; stupefied in a cold na™«, • ""folded, his soul, long t^ef linggraduS^inT^ircLsrss""^"^^^^ ^' ^^ .e2:Tere "tSrsSSsr^:^""^ "^^-^ -'^- called for more distLrisw^s sC «™\'^'''"1^*«. ^d clearer for Eppie's eves T/T' Tt """* '°™'^' K^ew "Dad-dad-^^LpXl^rL"^' *^7."- -»«' ""at for. Also, by the tLe E™f/^T ""''"^ ^^ ^^^O""* oped a fine' 'Iv^iXl^iZT '^11'^ ■'''^' =•'"' <^«-'- ways of being troublesomTSw. °, T'"» ingenious only for SUas's patieZ butt., V "^ T"^ *"^"'"«. "°t tration. Sorely was po^rSnl ^'\^,^*^^^^^^ and pene- the incompatibfeZa'nt o?iove""^V w""^ °"^">^' "? that punishment waTg^ foVFn;- I Y'''^^°^ *°" '"''" a child without maTinSSlr^-f;,'"'^ that, as for rearing now and then, it was fot SVone " "'*'"' """' P'^^ once in the coal-hole!^' S wlt^Ki:? ""t."!^!?* •^"* '^■- «P 9 1 waswhatldidwi'Aaroni'forl 'm /a .' SILAS HABNXR. 133 Zi''v '^'J'' ^^ y°""8e8t lad as I oould never bear to the coal-hole more nor a minute, but it was enough to ooUyhii a^l ov», so as he must be new washed and dresld, a^d it wS as good as a rod to him-that was. But I put it^^'Von^ conscience Master Mamer, as there's one of 'em 3 mZ choose-ayther smacking or the coal-hole-else sh J' U™t^„ masterful there'll be no holding her " ^^"* '^^ " «'' '° SUas was impressed with the melancholy truth of this last remark i but has force of mind failed before the only two i methods open to him, not only because it was painM to h^ to hurt Eppie, but because he trembled at a moment s conte^ tion with her, lest she should love him the less for it W IZZ "^r'"" t """"^^ ««* '^^-If t-d toa smaU tenS to »„t r "'*.*° ^"^ '* ^^ P""*"*' -^d ^^^g still mo^ to snap the cord, and which of the two. prav will hrm.!^^ leairatb";^*'^^^^*' '"^ ^" bI'-^ ^^'g stepTmu lead father Silas a pretty dance on any fine morning when c"r- oumstances favored mischief. For example He had wisely chosen a broad strip of linen Ma means of fastening her to his loom when he w^ bust "t Sl^w ofT^ '"I' ™'"' ""'' '"^'' ""1 -■» longtZh to a^^low of her reachmg the trundle-bed and sitting down on it Onebrii^tV°°'''^'"'•"*°''"«"P''«y«^'«'8«-»»«"^^^^^^^^ One bright summer's morning Silas had been more euRrossS than usual in "setting up" a new piece of work, L oLZS on which his scissors were in requisition. :Ehe^ 8^^°° owmg to an especial warning of Dolly's had b^r, LI. ' ally out of Eppie's reach ; bL the cS ^f Smt^t'd IZ- cuhar attraction for her ear, and, watching the re^to of X ^Tf rhl^loo'r "": !k' ""^ ''^'^'- «"- '""I « ^ UH Wf t •' ""^ *^'' °™"*' °^ '""''^e had begun: but he had left his scissors on a ledge which Eppie's arV^asW enough to reach, and now, like a small mouse, wateW hef opportunity she stole quietly from her comer, s"! Le scissors, and toddled to the bed again, setting 4 ^£^1^" as to the use of the scissors, and having cut the linen strip in i If Z^ f v-12 134 BILAS XARiniR. perhaps faUen into the Stone-nit aji.. \. i.^ f*"f"— "ad BILAB XARmtR ISO -a small cloaet near the he determined to try the coal-hole hearth. "Naughty, nanghty Eppie," he suddenly began, holding her on hw knee, and pointing to her muddy feet and clothes- naughty to cut with the scissors and run away. Eppie must go into the coal-hole for being naughty. Daddy must put her m the coal-hole." He half-expected that this would be shock enough, and that Eppie would begin to cry. But instead of that she began to shake herself on his knee, as if the proposition opened a pleas- mg novelty. Seeing that he must proceed to extremities, he put her mto the coal-hole and held the door closed, with a trembling sense that he was using a strong measure. For a moment there was silence, but then came a little cry, "Opv opyl and Silas let her out again, saying, "Now Eppie 'ull never be naughty again, else she must go in the coal-hole-a black nanghty place." The weaving must stand still a long while this morning, for now Eppie must be washed, and have clean clothes on; but it was to be hoped that this punishment would have a lasting effect, and save time in future-though, perhaps, it would have been better if Eppie had cried more. In h^ an hour she was clean again, and Silas, having turned his back to see what he could do with the linen band, threw it down ag^, with the reflection that Eppie would be good without fastening for the rest of the morning. He turned round again, and was going to place her in her little chair near the loom, when she peeped out at him with black face and hands again, and said, "Eppie in de toal-holel " This total faUure of the coal-hole discipline shook Silas's belief m the efficacy of punishment. "She'd take it all for fun^ he observed to ttolly, "if I didn't hurt her, and that I can t do, Mrs. Winthrop. If she makes me a bit o' trouble, I can bear it. And she's got no tricks but what she'll gr^w out of." ° "Well, that's partay true. Master Mamer," said DoUv sympatheticaUy j " and if you can't bring your mind to frieht- «n her off touching things, yon must do what yon can to keep em out of her way. That's what I do wi' the pups as the -A-.-^. «fV %i| 'Jill'-.' Iril J-'i 186 SILAS UARMXR. HVI < Udi are always a-rearing. They u,i« worry and gnaw-womr and gnaw they wUl, if it wa. one's Sund^ cap Tw ^^ where so as they could drag it. They know „o diffew^ce sSs';tSis!"" "•' ^"""^"^ »' *'"' '-"^ " -*• '-0^; mi^lf?''il''"r*"'^ ''*""* punishment, the burden of her misdeeds being borne vicariously by father Silas. The stone hut was made a soft nest for. her, lined with downy patience and al3o in the world that lay beyond the stone hut she W nothmg of frowns and denials. Notwithstanding the difficulty of carrying her and his yarn or hnen at the same time, SUas took her with him in most of itn:Z' •», '^«,^'^-l'°«'«». ""wiUing to leave her behld at Dolly Winthrop's, who was always ready to take care of t'k^t ^/'^r'^r'""'*'* ^PP'"' tJ^o-^ve'r-s child, bTam an objectof interest at several ouUying homesteads, a^ welUs r«l V,!^^'- ^^^^"^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ *«"'t«d vory much as « he had been a useful gnome or brownie-a queei and u^- ^untable creature, who must necessarily be looked at ^ wondering curios% and repulsion, and ,rith whom one v^IuW be glsd to make all greetings and bargains as brief as possiZ but who must be dealt with in a p4itiatory way, aT Jcca". My have a present of pork or giden-staff to 'c^ hTe with him, seeing that without him there was no getog tL yam woven. But now Silas met with open smilin! face! ^d cheerful qu^tioning, as a person whose satisf aotio/s Ind dS' culties could be understood. Everywhere he must sit a little and ta^k about the child, and words of interest were dwav ready for him: "Ah, Master Mamer, you'll be lucky Ush takes the measles soon andeasvl"— or "Whv ti,.,. • .! many lone men 'ud ha' been wislLg to'tak^^VK mt men as do outdoor work-you're partly as haidy as a woman, for weavmg comes next to spinning." Elderly masters and Zw?' Tf °'«''"'««y ^^ l"ge kitchen arm cha^a, shook their heads over the difficulties attendant on rearing weU (which, however, there was no telling), it would be a fine SILAS MARNIR 1(7 ^k atthe hens and chickens, or to see if an, cherries could be shaken down in theorchard; and thesmall b^y. aLT^W proaohed her slowly, with cautious movement and S^gaze IJ.e htUe dogs face to face with one of their own H^d tm attraction had reached .the point at which ^e s^ft U™ put out for a kiss. No child was afraid of approachi^^g Si!L now, either for young or old; for the little child had come to hnk him once more with the whole world. There was love between him and the child that blent them into one, rd there was love between the ohUd and the world-from men Id women with parental looks and tones, to the red lady-biids ^d the round pebbles. to Eppie she must have everything that was good in Eaveloe- and he listened docilely, that he might com! to l^S^^ brtter what this life was from which, for fifteen years, he had stood aloof as from a strange thing, wherewith he ooild ha^ no communion: as some man who has a precious plant to which he would give a nurturing home in a n. ,, soU thinks of the rain, and the sunshine, and all influences, in relation to hU nursling, and asks industriously for all knowledge that wiU help him to satisfy the wants of the searching rooto, or to guard lew and bud from invading harm. The disporition to hoard had been utterly crushed at the very first by the loss of his long-stored gold: the coins he earned afterward seemed as irrelevant as stones brought to complete a house suddenly bur- ied by an earthquake; the sense of bereavement was too heavy upon him for the old thrill of satisfaction to arise again at the touch of the newly earned coin. And now something had come to replace his hoard which gave a growing purpose to the ttirmone "^ ^°^ "^^ ^°^ oontinu^y onward beyond In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led tnem away from the city of destruction rVo see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction : a hand is put into theirs isa SILAS MARRXR. « tw'!!l^ f I? ^"^ «"*•' **""«* » "^^ ""l bright l«>d CHAPTEB XV. Tmm« WM one peraon, aa you will bdiere, who watched with keener though n,ore hidden interest than any ott» the proepei^a growth of Eppi. under the weaver's care hI dared not do anything that would imply a stronger interest in a poor man's adopted child than coulV be ex^ f r the »«^r?.M *^' '"""'« ^"'"'' ''"'° » ''bancVZting sug- tiJ^ wt^flf "m^'k" "v'^P'" °^^ '*"»'' ''bom other, no- ticed with good-wiUj but he told hr.,8Blf that the time would come when he might do something ;.^ard furthering the wel- fare of his daughter without incurring suspicion. Was hp tor her birthright? I cannot say that he was. The ohUd was being taken care of, and would very liiely be happy, a. ^^ p^e in humble stations often weri-happier, S.' tZ those brought up in luxury. ^' A^J^lllTT' ^'f •?"* P™^"^ '*• "'^^ ''ben he forgot dtttyuidfdlowed desire-I wonder if it pricked very hL a^r ^rr* T '^ ^^. '"'"••' ~ "^^^^ " P™ked but lightly then, and only pierced to the quick when the chase had long STmr^^T' '''^' "''^' •"•' ^«^' '~^'^ ^^-"^ -' W^J^ ^T\°^^ r"^ "y* "^^ •'"Rbter than ever now. He was so un^yided m his aims that he seemed like a man of firmness. No Dunsey had come back : people had made up o^t^"^. T ""' '"" ^i""°' " "oWier.rUe-out of the a sThW^T T r' "^"^ *° ^ "^^^ ^ *beir inquiries on to r««Th kT *° ? ™»P«<"«blefamUy. Godfrey had ceased to see the shadow of Dunsey across his path; and the path now lay straight forward to the accomplishment of his best, tongest-chenshed wishes. Everybody said Mr. Godfrey had taken the right turn; and it was pretty dear what would be the end of things, for there were not many days in the week Sn^AB ItASXMtL IM that he WM not Men riding to the Warren.. Godfrer himielf T i",,' "? "^•^ J'*""'^ " ""> <'»y •'•d b«»i flxid, tmUed with the pleuant oonwiovuneM of a lorer who oouJd mv temptation , wid the riaion of hi. future life aeemed to him a. a promised land for which he h«l no oauw to fight. Ho mw h^self with aU hi. happinee. centred on hU own Z^. whUe Nancy would .mile on him a. he played with the chU- Ajod ttat other child, not on the hearth-he would not for- ffattie^. dn "*" *'^ '* "■• '^ provided for. That wu %^ ■wmttm.i^. PART II. CHAPTER XVI. ^^. m"» ,""* \'* "t" *"""• °° *'""' »'»""'■ The bell. ^li !k ? !^' °* °^""'' '"* ""8'»8 '»"' "•"orfnl P««l which told that the moramg service was ended; ana out of the arched door-way in the tower came slowly, retarded by friendly greetings and questions, the richer parishioners who had chosen this bright Sunday morning as eligible for church- P)ing. It was the rural fashion of that time for the more impor- tant members of the congregation to depart first, while their humbler neighbors waited and looked on, stroking their bent t^^J". d'°PP>"g their courtesies to any large rate-payer who turned to notice them. Foremost among these advancing groups of well-clad people Uiere are some whom we shall recognize, in spite of Time, who has laid hu hand on them aU. The tall blond man of forty is not much changed in feature from the Godfrey Cass of six ^H Jr w*^,^ ^ 'I only fuller in flesh, and has only lost the ndefinable l«,k of youth-a loss which is marked even when the eye IS unduUed and the wrinkles are not yet come Per- haps the pretty woman, not much younger than he, who is leaning on his arm is more changed than her husband: the but fitfully, with the fresh morning air or with some strong surprise; yet to all who love human faces best for what they tell of human experience, Kancy's beauty has a heightened interest. Often the soul is ripened into fuller goodness while age has spread an ugly film, so that mere glances can never divine the preciousness of the fruit. But the years have not been so cruel to Nancy. The firm yet placid mouth, the clear SII.AB MARNUt. 141 ZT? vi^""!* "'. '^' '^'^ •y- 'P^ »«" of . natur. .«nth. .'"'*' "5 *■- ""P' '" ■^••t quliti.." wd mo».tnr ""' "'"l '*• d^tyne.tn.M wd purity lu. ITtoT'^t: "" "■" ~'""^" "' ^°"'^ -Wnoth- l^kf^ ?. h,. mheritano. wm divided) have turned round to wait for "father and Prisoilla "-and now they all turn into a narrower path leading acros. the churchyard to a .mil gate oppoBite the Red Hou,e. We wiU not follow them nowC whL "r.^,T" °'^"'' ^ "»" ''•P»rti'^8 congregation iTk,, 7Z^ i '■** ,'° "" "K-^—ome of those who afe not o^if i""*"°""y "'""l. »° td wh^ murmurmg Uttle sentences as pretty U.e red ii!:it:v:rVe°^t^5.r''- the lane, "only they's^y iSd Su 'a"S:S tV ""^ ^ bringing fresh eoil-and you coXt i *w ^"^Z ""^ thlXlrgs'l Ld i".f SI- iSe'^,-f»- S^^te:-i-:^urh:r2^rru°^^ I aat down to the W Why m.^^ ™r L"' '''^,'^°«' you wanted a bit o' garden? » ^ **" "* •**"«' « ^nvers^on ithortrtrS^«?^r.'Se."^^^^^ to me after I'ye done my day's work or^v 'ow-i l: ^ ^''^ when the work's shwk Zd ru tin ^ •"** "^ **""> Mr. Cass's garden-he'll iT^.^ l^,^„ ^^ «>^ ^- Eh, Aaron, my lad, are you there? » said Silas « I w«n'f "Then, if you think well and good, "said Aaron "tmi and begin on^^*" ^ " get up an hour earlier i' the morning, w "4S,"faZ,^id''-s;re ""-r iV^^. f* *"« -id anything about' i," she^^ed, Z-l^^''^. lik. «M BOAS MARNKH. ;;o^y Mrs. Winthrop said as Aaron 'ud be so •ognishly, good, and- . rm able and wT^tt a tarc^T,'""' ' ''°P«' « won't do me the unkiTdn" s tT^" v ' 1^ .^'"' "^^ ^^ hands." """moness to anyways take it out o' my »z7S;°"^?yr ^"r*^'*""* ^ "tiU it'saU easy," makeh^Cand'plirthrit Tfu"^' r,*"^ '^'^-^ Stone-pits when we've LT2!" ^' " •^ » d«al livelier at the the flowers caTs^ ns ^d Z^T^' '" ' '^^'^^^ "^^^ And I'll have a Wt o' ^^ l^J'^"' *^^'"8 about, because they're so aUTS'g bu^C' ''°', *^^"'«' only m the gentlefolks' garde^Tu^i^L" ™^ °° '*^*"'*''' Aarl^'forTcTrm;''^ ^°r '''°'^'^''* "-« -""V said out no'end of '^ S C ^'^h' °* "'^^«' I'"" f°«=«d to -nosUy. There'^a btbL „.T'*T«' '°'* '^""^ '«"» away missis is ve^fond oflt^ ° '""'""'" •»* *^« B«l House: the u.TL"k"foTlXT?;:;sr2 r.' -"^' ^- '» for Mr. Cass's b^ g^ to nl^^?. ,f' **" ^"^ ^'>'^- 0- the cottage, and S/rus Cs^H "J^ "* "^ ""^ ""^ <""i abidetobeLnosin' forL^L^i^** *"'«^' ** ^ couldn't " No. nT ^ , . 8"^en-8t«ff or anything else " JMo, no, there's no imnosin' " ..jj a ,." a garden in aU the PMiKJl,'., w? f""' "'^'•''^ "«ver for want o' sonLw^lf^ ,7^* *^«™ » «"<"««' waste in it Ithinktomy2':;Cttr«t''ti:"'"^>"P- ^''^^^ 0' victuals if^the Strma'l*iT ""T* "°'~^^ "^ '*°rt never a morsel but wha^ ooS^ fi„H V"^* °°' *"■* ^^''^^ ^ sets one thinking o' t^t^i'denlg Ve!^ ^B^, T" *"• '' "IsI^Suretrl",11f""^"' A-'n,"«aid Eppie, -r^i^.frJ'thtStl^ruSXi:?!^- -^o^ to ht^ a'Z;"to%°17h^°'"r'^ '"■"' "^«''' »- right end." "^ ""y "» " Mp us to set things on their 11 144 fOLAB MABNZR. Aaron turned back up the village, wlule Silas and Eppie went on up the lonely sheltered lane. "0 daddy 1 » she began, when they were in privacy, clasp- ing and squeezing Silas's arm, and skipping round to give him an energetic kiss. " My little old daddy I I'm so glad! I don't think I shall want anything else when we've got a lit- tle garden; and I knew Aaron would dig it for us," she went on with roguish triumph— "I knew that very well." "You're a deep littie puss, you are," said Silas, with the mild passive happiness of love-crowned age in his face; "but you'll make yourself fine and beholden to Aaron." -" Oh, no, I sha'n't, " said Eppie, laughing and frisking ; " he likes It." " Come, come, let me carry your prayer-book, else you'll be dropping it, jumping i' that way." Eppie was now aware that her behavior was under observa- tion, but it was only the observation of a friendly donkey, browsing with a log fastened to his foot— a meek donkey, not scomfuUy critical of human triviaUties, but thankful to share in them, if possible, by getting his nose scratched; and Eppie did not faU to gratify him with her usual notice, though it was attended with the inconvenience of his following them, pain- fully, up to the very door of their home. But the sound of a sharp bark inside, as Eppie put the key in the door, modified the donkey's views, and he limped away again without bidding. The sharp bark was the sign of an excited welcome that was awaiting them from a knowing brown terrier, who, after dancing at their legs in a hysterical manner, rushed with a worrying noise at a tortoise-shell kitten under the loom, and then rushed back with a sharp bark again, as much as to say, <• I have done my duty by this feeble crea- ture, you perceive " ; while the lady-mother of the kitten sat sunning her white bosom in the window, and looked round with a sleepy air of expecting caresses, though she was not going to take any trouble for them. The presence of this happy animal life was not the only Bhange which had come over the interior of the stone cottage. There was no bed now in the living-room, uid the smaU space was well filled with decent furniture, all bright and clean '-■#. iDir' 'f iru?-. SILAS HARNER. 148 enough to Babsfy DoUy Winthrop's eye. The oaken table and three-oomered oaken ohair were hardly what was likely to be wen in BO poor a cottage: they had come, with the beds and other things, from the Red House; for Mr. Godfrey Cass, as eyery one said in the viUage, did very kindly by the weaver; and It was nothing but right a man should be looked on and helped by those who could afford it, when he had brought up an o^han child, and been father and mother to her-and had lost his money too, so as he had nothing but what he worked for week by week, and when the weaving was going down too -for there was less and less flax spun-and Master Mamer was none so young. Nobody was jealous of the weaver, for he was regarded as an exceptional person, whose claims on neighborly help were not to be matched in Eaveloe. Any superstition that remained concerning him had taken an en- t^ely new color; and Mr. Macey, now a very feeble old man Of four score and six, never seen except in his chimney-comer or sitting in the sunshine at his door-sill, was of opinion that when a man had done what Silas had done by an orphan child. It was a sign that his money would come to light again, m leastwise that the robber would be made to answer for it-for as Mr. Macey observed of himself his faculties were as strong as ever. ° SUas sat down now and watched Eppie with a satisfied gaze as she spread the clean cloth, and set on it the potato-pie WMmed up slowly, in a safe Sunday fashion, by being put int^ a dry pot over a slowly dying fire, as the best substitute for an oven For SUas would not consent to have a grate and oven added to his conveniences: he Icved the old brick hearth TaI . ^^ ^" ^^^ Vot^'^d was it not there when he had found Eppie? The gods of the hearth exist for us stUl: and let all new faith be tolerant of that fetishism, lest it bruise its own roots. Silas ate his dinner more silently than usual, soon laying down his knife and fork, and watching half abstractedly Ep- pie s play with Snap and the oat, by which her own dining was made rather a lengthy business. Yet it was a sight that might well arrest wandering thoughts: Eppie, with the rip- pimg radiMce of her hair and the whiteness of her rounded i m^jk' jrm*.>^ 140 BILAS HARNEB. ohm and th««t wt off by the dark-Mue cotton gown, laughina "erfik«"l T """f ^^. °" "^"^ '"" *°" claws to^oneD h«H^!,T^ *°*f * J"8-''""ll''. whUe Snap on the right ^wh^^ ^1Z "■" °^" P"* "P "">" P«'"' ^^«d a mor- sel which Bhe held out of the reach of both-Snap ocoasionX desuting in order to remonstrate with the cat by a e^rwor .n?"*-^*!f!!.'.^PP'®' 8la°<=i°g at the Clock, checked the plav and said, daddy, you're wanting to go into the su^hiSe to viil^K^ *^''" '° ''""''^''« " P'P« "^y d"ri"B tte last two y««i, having been strongly urged to it by the sLs of Bav^! to try what could do no harm-a principle which was made to E W f ^ tu"* ''•^'^y ''°J°y «'°°'^8, and often won- dc»ed how his neighbors could be so fond of it; but a humble sort of acquiescence in what was held to be go^d had become a strong habit of that new self which had bL develo^d ia him smce he had found Eppie on his hearth: it had b^n th^ only dew h» bewUdered mind could hold by in ohe^S.^ this young Me that had been sent to him out of the dX^i m^rt^'^r^'^^^'l^- By seeking whatw«^d ^Vrl^L^ r.*" '"'"^ *° appropriate the forms of cus- toi and belief which were the mould of Eaveloe life; and Z. ^h reawakening sensibilities, memory ah» reawakened, h Sn&^K^v' """.""' ''"""«'*'' °* ^^ old faith, and Mend them with his new impressions, till he recovered a con- Tf oZiT °* !™,"^ ^"^ ^" ^ '^^ P«««°*- Tie Be-e ^1 nu™ ^! "'^'^ '^^*^' ^'™*" "^ ^l^oJ" <««"« with tte™ LTT ^"^ ^"^ «''*" '^^ " "^^ impression that that dark shadow over the days of his best years; and as it mwsif^ BtLAS UABNZR. j^j »ribe oAu eSy S^ commua.cated to her all he oonld dl planation waa not aidedT L„ ]^ * ""^^^ P°'" °f «- strange oustomar^I ml^ve^ovTvf " "*" '"^ *° that arrested th^m at ByenZlZZ^ "J'"'"^ °^ ^°"''" by fragments, and at Tn^LT -fi ^Tm v tl* ""^ "'"^ Tolve what she had heaH Hli i^ ■ f ^ *""* *° "- her, that Silas at last a"1vSa ^T^ "T ^^^'^''^ ''"^ the drawing of lots a^d ilfff l ! 1^^""" °* *''•' """^ «*°iy_ and thU had to be rewat^d il f '^°"^ conoemmg himj questions on her^Tto th^ T f *«"'«^«. ""der ne; in^theguUtyaniTerin^ttinnrnf "'^' ^'^ ^" ^^^-t- Martirel^LTu i^\r'r "^ °' "^'^ faster .iientfo...e.ini;srrirshV;:idr ^^o- parsIX^rruS^otTn r-^l'^r "^^ '* "^^ «' the «>e. things. L'dlS is folLlS"nlr"l! *^ *«" I cannever rightly know tCSgTwh^tr:? r T only a bit here and the™ hnf 77 » .^7™* ^ hear at church, But what lies u^' yoTj^L^rj^ ^f T^'"^ ^''■ if Them above had dow tCri7hf\K i ^^**' ***"'«'•■ <"' W let you be turneHnt fo^fw^Z^ ^.''^^''^ -- mnioent." wioiced thief when you was P-^atill'gT-SrC'^h'atfr""'' ^."°'^«"*-'* ^%'» ■ne or clave to me above nor below Anrf ^obody as cared for - in wi. fo, ten year and m^i'sinntr ^IJ CZ' ^^^.i- -^f 148 SILAS HABNXR. went halves— mine own familiar friend in whom I tnwted, had lifted up his heel again' me, and worked to ruin me." " Eh, but he was a bad un— I can't think as there's anoth- er such," said Dolly. "But I'm o'eroome, Master Mamerj I'm like as if I'd waked and didn't know whether it was night or morning. I feel somehow as sure as I do when I've laid something up though I can't justly put my hand on it as there was a rights in what happened to you, if one could but make it outj and you'd no call to lose heart as you did. But we'll talk on it again ; for sometimes things come into my head when I'm leeching or poulticing, or such, as I could never think on when I was sitting still." Dolly was too useful a woman not to have many opportuni- ties of illumination of the kind she alluded to, and she was not long before she recurred to the subject. " Master Mamer," she said, one day that she came to bring home Eppie's washing, "I've been sore puzzled for a good bit wi' that trouble o' youm and the drawing o' lots; and it got twisted baok'arda and for'ards, as I didn't know which end to lay hold on. But it come to me all clear like, that night when I was sitting up wi' poor Bessy Fawkes, as is dead and left her children behind, God help 'em— it come to me as clear as daylight; but whether I've got hold on it now, or can any- ways bring it to my tongue's end, that I don't know. For I've often a deal inside me as '11 never come out; and for what you talk o' your folks in your old country niver saying prayers by heart nor saying 'em out of a book, they must be wonderful diver; for if I didn't know ' Our Father,' and little bits o' good words as I can carry out o' church wi' me, I might down o' my knees every night, but nothing could I say." " But you can mostly say something as I can make sense on, Mrs. Winthrop," said Silas. "Well, then. Master Mamer, it come to me summat like this : I can make nothing o' the drawing o' lots and the answer coming wrong; it 'ud mayhap take the parson to tell that, and he could only tell us i' big words. But what come to me as clear as the daylight, it was when I was troubling over poor Bessy Fawkes, and it allays comes into my head when I'm sorry for folks, and feel as I can't do a power to help 'em, '^'-'*5tiiP» BILAS UUtNXR 149 not if I WM to get up i' the middle 0' the nighU-it oome. ^t^Iw'^r rr '"*^" »« 80* a d«U t«>d«er h^^ m^« 1 ^''^•r ^ T * •* »"y'"y »>««" "O' Them M made me; and U anything looks hard to me, it', beoauw there's thmg. I don't know on, «,d, for the ma^r o'ZT ™„ "'"'-''«" '» »^- ^d «>. while I was thinking o' that, you ^memto my mmd, Master Mamer, and it all cLe p^r- It^r . "u""^ "■*"*" "■>** """ the right and just U,mg byyou, and them as prayed and drawed the lots aU but ttat wicked un, if they'd ha' done the right thing by you If they oould, .sn't there Them as was at the making on uT ZwL t^kT ""'""^ •'^erything eUe is a big puzzle to ^kcfftli ""^ °" i'-„ ^°' """"""» the fever come Ld took off them as were full-growed, and left the helpless chil- ^htT. •f^'t" ?" ""^"^ °' "-"»"" •"•l them « 'ud do nght and be sober have to suffer by them as are oontrairy- eh, there^ trouble i' this world, and there's things as wl^ mver make out the rights on. And all as we've goTtTdoT to trusten Master Marner-to do the right thing Tto s^ we know, and to tosten. For if us as knows so UtZ IZ La b.t o' good and rights we may be sure as there's a g" d^d a nghto bigger nor what we can know_I feel it i' my own mside as it must be so. And if you could but L' ZeZ trustenmg, Master Mamer, you wouldn't ha' run awfTLm your feUow-creaturs and been so lone " tonl^J >"^*K** '^ ^' "^^ ^^" '^^ Silas, in an under- tone ; It 'ud ha' been hard to trusten then "^ "thi°i'^ " '""^'^'" "^^ ^"y- '^""t '^th compunction: 0' SgT""'""" «^^""'J°"«i "^d I'mpartl/ashamed "Nay, nay,'' said SUas, "you're i' the right, Mrs. Win- a f^lmg o' that now; and it makes a man feel as there's a good more nor he can see, i' spite o' the trouble and the wick- edness. That drawing 0' the lots is dark; but the ch Id wL sent to me: there's dealings with us-ther^'s dealings." This dialogue took place in Eppie's earlier years, when Si- 100 SILAS MARMSL ^'"'lllW 1^ iM luid to part with her for two hours emj d«T, that A» might l^trn to read atth.dame «,hool, aftohe hadtaiSlT toed hunself to guide her in that first step to learning. Now that .he waa grown up, Sila. had often been led, in thoee te«^^ 1""* ""tPo-rioB which oome to people who live together m perfect love, to talk with A»r too of the paat, and ^T ^J^' i' ^ """'* » '""""'y ""^ ""*" -1"' hTd teen »»t to hun. For it would have bten impossible for him to hide from Eppie that she was not his own child: even if the most dehcate retaoence on the point could hare been expected heX^r^ *^Tr •"" P""""*' *■« "^ questions^^ut her mother coud not have been parried, as she grew up, with- out that complete shrouding of the past which wo,Jd have made a pamful barrier between their minds. So Eppie had long known how her n.other had died on the snowy ^un^ and how she herself had been found on the hearth byfathe SUas, who had taken her golden curls for hisiost^uLeL which Silas had reared her in almost inseparable companion- ship with himself, aided by the seclusion of their dw^ing, S ^aTr»f ^' f~m the lowering influences of the villa^ t«Ik and habits, and had kept her mind in that freshness butt" "?r '^-•/«l''«ly supposed to be an inv"iaMe^ri bute of rusticity Perfect love has a breath of poetry which can exalt the relations of the least-instructed huWbeW when ,t''r'f, u P^J^^"^ "^"^^^ =PP» f^theZe ^W. K ^? *°"°T'^ *• •'"»''* Sleam that beckoned her to SUas's hearth; so that it is not surprising U, in other thin^ brides her delicate prettiness, she was not quite a oomm™ villagema.den,^ut had a touch of refinement^d fervoTwS Tuittod f^r*'" T"^' *""" «"^* »' tenderly n^l™ imagmation to rove into questions about her unknown father- foralong^hUe it did not even occurto her that sherust ha^e show^ W .1, "^^^ P'"^'"^ '**'" *° ^"^ ^ when Silas w»l!f fi wedding-nng which had been taken from the wa ted finger and had been carefully preserved by him in a httlehicquered box shaped like a shoe. Hedeliver^d this box SILAS HARMBR. m 11 about the fatt« ofwhZ' t w« .^' ■"" ^'^* *^y "' » father very ol^^to her wh^ 7 J\' "^u"''"'- "^^ '^' ""t eat friend next to SilL made h JiLwA'''** '^ ^"^ "«»'- stones about, some of 'em „nr^- j ^"e^e's lots o' loose of one anol^'::d 'm" w^' "'Yor.nT'^' ""' 'f? ^^^ O-e^aUes, and Aaron .ud:a:S^theT:sr/C.riTd^ ston^to^^nZ-^'Ia^^r""' ""?'™ ^"''^ --«^ Ht«e^f,ou.ulS.r;\^--S'£^^^^^^ Osgood', field., I reoko? T^^ ""' '""* ^«"«". i' Mr day. when I JailTC^'em •^^"VT'* *° "»« *k« otter J«^ W.U. .„„h en^ L . , ewCperSt pt^t^IeSf ^ go and sit down on'tTCc S^"thJT«r.r""'' '"* luivenomoreliftinB Y™, ^v^iT!!^ ""* "^® **«^ and need have «,n.3 to wo" Wor l ""* '°^""' •^^'^^ou'd gtrong. " ' ^°* *"' you-and my arm isn't over- bank, nestled dose to his aXU^kl"^' ^""^ °° *'"' the arm that was not oveV^.tonT heSf„ ^""^ T""'"^'^ "^ las puffed again dutifully at tte ni™, v ? ''" ^"P- ''''^l* Si- ann. AnTsh in tliehS«r2 £^S ' 7^** """"P'*^ ^' "ther from the sun, Id tWw^^Tt^,'^! -^ *'*"*» "«"«■' them. ' '^'^ '"PPy playful shadows all about »-.-»-^m to be mwried with my mo5«'. ri„gr' """"^ ""«'" ' «caf:f,r:i"tS?^Li^rrs •'^ """•«'' ""o"- «»«» •-thinking on it? " '• *PP*"> *»»▼• you "Only this last week, father" uiri w„ ■ • "rinoe Aaron talked to m.Z,t\'^ ^^"' "^^"''""ly. ■And what did ha «ftv?" ..ij o'l dued way, as i, he ^^1,^ ZTi.'^"! ^.^I,'*-"' '»"• "hI" ton, «,, ,„ notTolTpS.?^^"""^ '"' ""^ *« He Mid he should like to be mJri^' x^ •■fSoing in four and twenty .nHk ? ^' ****"" ^e ""» ^A, now Mr. MoVrSn^J-^H^T ' ^'^ °' ""^'^^^ "•^^ to Mr. Cass's. an*d 0^"^*; m nJ^ *"'•"' » "«** fP-lfg to take him on 'at the B«tl^' ^'^'' '^^ ^V'" And who is it as hn'a »..4j /' «th«r a sad «nile "'*^« *° ""^^ " «^d Silas, with uJZ|'krin^'*«s2wrii-r5j^^5r '•^-^'^^ ry anybody else I " ' ■• " "e^d want to mar- ;; Aad you mean to have hin,, do you? " .aid Sil« "8, some time." saiH »«„.-<, i , ''"■•• Ererybody'.ma,S^^«,CL!^'^^ ^ "*""'* ^'"' ^hw- that wasn't true: for.T.:idT',S.k ^Tt^T ^ut I told him married." ' "** " father— he's never been "No, child," said Silas. « vcmr f«f^. you was sent to him " ^ ^*" "" » '°°e "nan till j^""S;rwS:t'za^?rr ^^- - ^ve together, «, as y^u n^^^^^^ , t^M'^'V "^ ^ for your own pleasure; and he'd ^as !^H ' "'^J' ''^''*''' that was what he said " ™ " «» as good as a son to you- ^J And Should you like that. Eppie,.' said Silas, looking at "I Shouldn't mind i, father," said Bppie,,ui.» Simply. • I ! ? IM 8ILAB lURNU. And 1 ihoold UkatUogs to be m m yoa naedn'twork mnoh. But if it wuD't for tlut, I'd toooer thing* didn't clung*. Imreryhtppy: I like Awon to be fond of me, and come »nd see ni often, and behave pretty to you— he always dou behave pretty to you, doesn't he, father? " "Yes, ohUd, nobody could behave better," said Bilas. em- phatically. "He's hU mother', lad." "But I don't want any change," said Eppii. "I ghould Uke to go on for a long, long whUe, jurt as we are. Only Aaron does want a change; and he made me cry a bit— only a bit— because he said I didn't care for him, for if I cared for hun I should want us to be married, as he did." I' Eh, my blessed chad," said SUas, laying down his pipe as if It were useless to pretend to smoke any longer, "you're o'er young to be married. We'll ask Mrs. Winthrop— we'll ask Aaron's mother what Me thinks: if there's a right thing to do, she'll come at it. But there's this to be thought on, Ep- pie : things wUl change, whether we like it or no ; things won't go on for a long while just as they are and no difference. 1 shall get older and helplesser, and be a burden on you, belike, If I don't go away from you altogether. Not as I mean you'd think me a burden— I know you wouldn't— but it 'ud be hard upon you; and when I look for'ard to thali I like to think as you d have somebody else besides me-somebody young and strong, as '11 outlast your own life, and take care on you to the md." Silas pauwid, and, resting his wrist* on his knees, lifted his hands up and down meditatively as he looked on the ground. "Then, would you like me to be married, father?" said Eppie, with a little trembling in her voice. "I'll not be the man to say no, Eppie," said Silas, emphat- ically; "but we'll ask your godmother. She'll wish the right thing by you and her sou too." ^ "There they come, then, "said Eppie. « Let us go and meet em. Oh, the pipe! won't you have it lit again, father? " said Eppie, lifting that medicinal appliance from the ground " Nay, chUd, " said Silas, " I've done enough for to-day. I thmk, mayhap, a little of it does me more good than so muoh at once." /X ^-i^riiKl aiLAi MARKER. 1C5 CHAPTER XVII. Whil. SilM ud Eppi* were leated on the buk ditoouniiw in the fleckered shade of the wh-tree, Miis PriMill. Lamme- ter wag reeuting her aiiter's argumento that it would be bet- ter to take tea at the Bed House, and let her father have a Irag nap, than drive home to the Warrens so soon after dinner, rhe famUy party (of four only) were seated round the table in the dark wainscoted parlor, with the Sunday dessert before them of frwh filberto, applee, and pears, duly ornamented with leaves by Nancy's own hand before the bells had runs for church. * A great change has come over the dark wainscoted parlor since we saw it in Godfrey's bachelor days, and under the wifeless reign of the old Squire. Now all is polish, on which no yesterday's dust is ever allowed to rest, from the yard's width of oaken boards round the carpet, to the old Squire's gun and whips and walking-sticks, ranged on the stag's anUers above the mantelpiece. All other signs of sporting and out- door occupation Nancy has removed to another room: but she has brought into the Bed House the habit of filial reverenc^ and preserves sacredly in a place of honor these relics of her husband's departed father. The tankards are on the side- table still, but the bossed sUver is undimmed by handling and there are no dregs to send forth unpleasant suggestions: the only-prevaUmg scent U of the lavender and rose-leaves that faU the vases of Derbyshire spar. All is purity and order in this once dreary room, for, fifteen years ago, it was entered by a new presiding spirit. "Now, father," said Nancy, "« there any call for you to go home to tea? Mayn't you just as well stay with us?— such a beautiful evening as it's likely to be." The old gentleman had been talking with Godfrey about the mcreasmg poor-rate and the ruinous times, and had not heard the dialogue between his daughters. "My dear, you must ask Prisoilla," he said, in the once us 8ILAB UARNXK ["'"ft 111 ., 'A " She manages me and firm voice, now become rather broken, thefann too." "And reason good as I should manage you, father," said ftisoiUa, "else you'd be giving yourself your death with rheumatism. And as for the farm, if anything turns out wrong, as it oan't but do in these times, there's nothing kills a man so soon as having nobody to find fault with but himself It s a deal the best way o' being master, to let somebody else do tlw ordering, and keep the blaming in your own hands. It ud save many a man a stroke, 1 believe." «t"j^^ ''"' "y '^*"'' -^'^ ^*' *»**"' "it* » quiet laugh, I didn't say you don't manage for everybody's good." "Then manage so as you may stay tea, Priscilla," said Nancy, putting her Jiand on her sister's arm affectionately. Come, now; and we'll go round the garden while father has his nap." "My dear child, he'll have a beautiful nap in the gig, for I shaU dnve. And as for staying tea, I can't hear of it: for there 8 this dairymaid, now she knows she's to be married, turned Michaelmas, she'd as lief pour the new milk into the pig-trough as into the pans. That's the way with 'em all : it's 88 If they thought the world 'ud be new-made because they're to be muned. So come and let me put my bonnet on, and aiere'll be tune for us to walk round the garden while the horse is beug put in." When the sisters were treading the neatly swept garden- walks, between the bright turf that contrasted pleasantily with the dark conss .and arches and waU-like hedges of yew. Pris- cilla said, — J t - "I'm as glad as anything at your husband's making that exchange o' land with cousin Osgood, and beginning the dairy- ing. It 8 a thousand pities you didn't do it before: for it'll give you something to fill your mind. There's nothing like a dairy if folks. want a bit o- worrit to make the days pass. For as for rubbing furniture, when you can once see your face m a table there's nothing else to look for; but there's always somethirg fresh with the dairy; for even in the depths o' winter there's some pleasure in conquering the butter, and making it come whether or no. My dear," added Prisiiilla, >ip 'ji^mrm j».*r^._*w .ft. SILAB MARiniR 167 preagmg her Bister's hand affectionately as they walked side by «de, «you;U never be low when yoJve g^l!^^ ""' ^.ffr'i ^^Vv"*"* ^"^"y' "t^rata'g the pressure with a patefol glance of her clear eyes, "but it won't make np to Godfrey: a dairy's not so much to a man. And it's only wiUi the blessings we have, if he could be contented." It drives me past patience," said Prisoilla, impetuously, net *'^ °'tl»«"'e— always wanting and wanting, an^d never easy with what they've got: they can't sit comfortable ^Z r,i '^ \^'^ '° *^*" '"""'^^ *<> ■""^o '<"» better th™I I,; " """^ """^ "'™" "^ Bwallow. .g something strong, though they're forced to make haste before the r=xt mea^ comes m. But joyful be it spoken, our father was nev r tt^ .ort o' man. And if it had pleased God to make you ugly, hke me, so as the men wouldn't ha' run after yon, we m^hi have kept to our own family, and had nothing to do w^A^Sks as have got uneasy blood in their veins " h J ?,^', '!i°^' *J!^I'> ^"^'"'^ " ""'^ ^'^°7' "Penting that she had called forUi this outburst; "nobody has ^ oJLsion to tt^ \ "* Godfrey. Ifs natural he sho^dT^ap! S^ . ^rf^ "•y '"^'^°= <"«'y ""« likes to have so on making a fuss with 'em when they were litUe Thei^ knowrt«^ ^ow.".said Priscilla, smiling sarcastically, "I S»T«^LT .r*!' "^"^ '"* ""• °° *° »buse their hus- they wanted to seU 'em. But father'U be waiting for me wo must turn now." ""giurme, we doJr^tn^V ^ '^^ ^ '*^^ °^^ 8™y '" »' the front d,»r, ai.d Mr. Lammeter was already on the stone steps, pass- WW«kT J° T''^"'* *° <^°<^"^ what very flue pLt. Speckle had when his master used to ride him. «naemi;;^'T/t '"'''! ^'"^ ^°""^ y°" know/'said the old ^ntleman, not likmg that spirited time to be quite effaced from the memory of hU juniors. 1 1: 158 SILAS HARNER. Mind yon brmg Nancy to the Warrens before the week's out, Mr. Caw," was PrisoUla's parting injunction, as ahe took the rein^ and shook them genUy, by way of friendly incite- ment to Speckle. •' I shall just take a turn to the fields against the Stone-pits. Hanoy, and look at the draining, " said Godfrey. " You'll be in again by tea-time, dear? " "Oh, yes, I shall be back in an hour." It was Godfrey's custom on a Sunday afternoon to do a ut- Ue contemplative farmiii oft^ «~ ^ri/ A^ V •",' ^"^^ '°"8'' """"^ "'d ""feeling pwoeption that the absence of children from their hearth was dwelt on m her husband's mind as a privation to wWdiT could not reconcile himself. *® Yet sweet Kancy might have been expected to feel still more Menly the denial of a blessing to whiTh she hadlook^ forward with all the varied expectations and prep^tlons^^ J™1 fif, T^ :" ^'^°""' " "'°'^"- Was there not a drawer fiUed with the neat work of her hands, all unworn and ^ched, im,t as she had arranged it the,; fourt^n ye"s ago-just, but for one UtUe dress, which had been made the buml-dress? But under this immediate personal trial Nlncy l^ZoJl^ unfiuiinurmg that years ago she had suddenly Z - J v.^''^*. °* '"■***"« **•'' '1^'"*^' 1«-''* she should ii th« way be cherishing a longing for what was not given rerhaps it was this very severity toward any indulgence of m • i m I- " «'HC' <* 160 SILAS HABNBR. t-1 fjlj what she held to be giaful regret in herseU that made hei Bhrmk from applying her own standard to her husband " It 18 very different-it is much worse for a man to be disap- pomtod m that way: a woman can always be satisfied witt devoting heiBelf to her husband, but a man wants something that will make him look forward more-and sitting by the fire IS so much duller to him than to a woman." j^d always when Naney reached this point in her meditations-tryiig; with predetermined sympathy, to see everything as Godfrey saw It-there came a renewal of self-questioning, /fad she done everything in her power to lighten Godfrey's privation? Had she really been right in the resistance which had cost her so much pain six years ago, and again four years ago-the reaistonce to her husband's wish that they should adopt a ohUd? Adoption was more remote from the ideas and habits of that time than of our own; still Nancy had her opinion on It. It was as necessary to her mind to have an opinion on all topics, not exclusively masculine, that had come under her noboe, M foi her to have a precisely marked place for every article of her personal property : and her opinions were always prmciples to be unwaveringly acted on. They were firm, not because of their basis, but because she held them with a tenac- ity mseparable from her mental action. On all the duties and ^Miebes of life, from fiUal behavior to the arrangements of the evening toilet, pretty Nancy Lammeter, by the time she was tluw and twenty, had her unalterable Httle code, and had formed every one of her habits in strict accordance with that code. She carried these decided judgments within her in the m indications. »id S^ «bould you thuik the chUd would turn out ill?" ».d Godfrey, in his remonstrances. "She has thriven as There'Lt " T '" "'''' '""^ "«»'»' '^'^ *" adopted he" There isn't such a pretty little girl anywhere else in the p^l ^ 1 .^^^"f' *°" *''« "^^'^ ^0 <»"ld give her Where can be the likelih<»d of her being a curse to^nybody? " h.r IZ 7 tT ^"^"y-" "^^ ^""oy- ''1'° '"" Bitting with ^^SonKefr? Xr vfd"^*' ^"™'"«' ^^'^ 2^XT^'>"^^'\..'^^S goTseek^r t w^ should be doing. It will be wrong : I feel sure it wiU ' Do^t JZ ""T^f/^;* *^''* ^^^ '« =»«* "* the Eoyston Batts told us about the child her sister adopted? That was L only ■uiopting I ever heard of: and the child was transported when t was twenty-three. Dear Godfrey, don't ask me todo whit er:°WdZ"'= iBtouldneverbehappyagain. Iki^wK It might seem singular that Nancy- with her reUirious th«. oTchTh'd'"';''" °"' 1 °''™' '^'^ tradition" KiL of church doctrine imperfectly understood, and girlish reason- -^a »ay of thmkmg so nearly akin to that of many devout people who^se beliefs are held in the shape of a systl q^to 183 SILAS MARNXR. W. Miuo. ,. ]^ i,, t„, „ ,„ „.„b„'S'^ » the uiipr«88ionB which Godfrav wu liker^ t,. ~.v ' m« the laboring people '-orJZ^^t^tlZlZ deep affections can hardly bo aIone appose it is the way w^ ^mllf^ '°^°™ «» 1"™? I die age without the cTe« tZZ .^'''^ '^° "*«^ "il- , ^-«%i°yous:U:r thrsniisSv;^''' r '^ dusatisfaction seeks a definite Zlt^7« ^ 8Wy hours, I ration of an untried <^h ^- L^ ^"^ ^"^^ " "> th« pn- » cbUdless hearth thfnkTwith ^^T^;^!':?.'!*'" T'^^^^ °° I ■» gweted by young v«oeI-«^^f ,^ *''*^" ^^"^ "t"™ j^ / uug vuioes— sartui at the meal where the Ut- f™J 164 SILAS HARNIR. tie heads rise one above another like niuMrjr-plant^ it leea a black oaie hovering behind every one of them, and thinka the impulses by which men abandon freedom, and seek for ties, are surely nothing but a brief madness. In Godfrey's case there were further reasons why his thoughts should be contin- ually solicited by this one point in his lot: his conscience, never thoroughly easy about Eppie, now gave his childless home the aspect of a retribution; and as the time passed on, under Nancy's refusal to adopt her, any retrieval of his error became more and more difficult. On this Sunday afternoon it was already four years since there had been any allusion to the subject between them, and Nancy supposed that it was forever buried. "I wonder if he'll mind it less or more as he gets older," she thought; " I'm afraid more. Aged people feel the miss of children: what would father do without Prisoilla? And if I die, Godfrey will be very lonely— not holding together with his brothers much. But I won't be over-anxious, and trying to make things out beforehand: I must do my best for the present." With that last thought Nancy roused herself from her rev ery, and turned her eyes again toward the forsaken page. It had been forsaken longer than she imagined, for she was pres- ently surprised by the appearance of the servant with the tea- things. It was, in fact, a little before the usual time for tea; but Jane had her reasons. " Is your master come into the yard, Jane? " "No'm, he isn't," said Jane, with a sUght emphasis, of which, however, her mistress took no notice. "I don't know whether you've seen 'em, 'm," continued Jane, after a pause, "but there's f.Cis making haste all one way, afore the front window. I doubt something's happened. There's niver a man to be seen i' the yard, else I'd send and see. I've been up into the top attic, but there's no seeing anything for trees. I hope nobody's hurt, that's all." " Oh, no, I dare say there's nothing much the matter," said Nancy. "It's perhaps Mr. Snell's bull got out again, as he did before." "8 , « "I wish he mayn't gore anybody then, thafs all," said J'^SII S/^Lt'"" ""». '-ked « far « .he could ohUdi^for th^wl™ „»^ ""eaaae,, which she felt to be more distinct feKk^a"Ln */"'""''?' °' * ^"^^ t^ « would come in. °" '"'* "«'" *k»t God^ej CHAPTEB XVra, w^dow Jth ^Udne,. in he. e,e.. L Z^T:'^^,^ JST' <:?CCt ^°"'" •*""^" -^^ -^^ «^^« *-- wiS'ss/htKr.SL^ ^:s .^^-« "^"^ '^^ •>»* «w ner as part of a scene invisible to herself si,« i -j v liwid on his arm not Hann„ f„ iJ ."*"• "^e hud her IM SILAS UASSMB. mo«t about the shook if 11 bet, you." "o* i we "It iro't father .nd l-ruoill,? » „id Nanoy, with qaiTering lipa, olaaping her hand* together tightly on her Up ..h"^? '*'' ""'^y '''«8." said Godfrey, unequal to the oon- iiderate akiU with which he would have wished to make hi> iwelation. "If. Dunrt«n_my brother Dunstan, that we tost sight of sixteen years ago. We've found him-found his body— his skeleton." The deep dread Godfrey's look had created in Nancy made her feel these word, a relief. She «>t in comparative Zmnm to hear what elM he had to tell. HewentonZ- "The Stone-pit ha. gone dry suddenly—from the draining I suppose; and there he lies-has lain for sixteen yearl wedged between two great stones. There's his watch and seals, and there's my gold-handled hunting-whip, with my name on: he took it away, without my knowing, the day he went hunting on Wildfire, the last time he wu seen." ^^ Godfrey paused: it was not so easy to say what came next. Do you think he drowned himself ?" said Nancy, almost wondering that her husband should be so deeply shaken by what had happened all those years ago to an unloved brother! of whom worse things had been augured. Jlf^ ^'if"" ^'"f^^ *^"^' ^ * '""^ »>»* distinct voice, !5iL « ?^ '""^ ^**P '^'^^« ^ ^^ *»»*• PresenOy he ^tf ' J^T"*? r** ^^ ""^ *^'" ">^^ SUas Mamer." The blood rushed to Nancy's face and neck at this surprise and "tame, for she had been bred .up to regard even a distant kinship with crime as a diahonjr. uJlZ^Z'".'!"' ■^'^ ''*^ compassion in her tone, for she had immediately reflected that the dishonor must be felt stiU more keenly by her husband. "There was the money in the pit," he continued-" all the weaver smtmey. Everything's been gathered up, and they're taking the skeleton to the Rainbow. But I came back to tell you: there was no hindering it; you must know " He was silent, looking on the ground for two long minutes. Nancy would have said some words of comfort imd« thU dis- grace, but she refrained, from an inrtinotiye sense that there v^r... jif.i^^ etLAB KARIfXR. 1« waiomethiBg b«hind-tli.t Godfrey l«d Mmothine elH. to them fixed on her, aa he said,— *^ oJd AIm^!^r "T*!!*" "*''*' ^""y- »«"'" " '»»•'• When God Almighty willa it, our eeorete are found out. I've Uyed -I wouldn't have you find it out after I'm de. • I'll tell you now. It', been ' I wiU • «.d < I won't ' with me ill ml lire— I'll make sure of myself now " ' Sed"^Sr * ""'' *'"' ^ ""■"' " "' " -''■" -"^"^ - hid «,mething from you-something I ought to have told yon. That woman Mwner found dead in the enow-Eppie's mother -ttat wretched woman-wae my wife: Eppie i. my child." He paused, dreadmg the effect of his confession. But to ml Ms""sh: w"* '^J '"^1 ^" "y" ^^^ '^^ ''^ to meet his. She was pale and quiet as a meditative statue olaspmg her hands on her Up. «HuwHve statue, after a little whUe, with some tremor in his voice She waa silent. "I oughtn't to have left the child unowned; I oughtn t to have kept it from you. But I couldn't bear to give you Still Nancy was silent, looking down; and he almost ex- pectod that she would presentiy get up and say she would go to her father's. How could she have any mercy for faults t7at*C'°r' r!S^ *" 'f ' "*'"" "^Pl- severenotions? But at last she Irfted up her eyes to his again and spoke. °8 to do with me after the talk there'd T "u "??'' •*' "?" ^ '^"^ '"^« "J""* »bo»t that, CkHlfrev I should never have married anybody ebe. But I wasn't worth doing wrong for-nothing is in this world. Nothing IS so good as It seems beforehand-not even our marryinK waai't, you «»." There was a faint sad unUe on N«»y', fwe as she said the last words. " ^"loy » "I'm a worse man than you thought I was, Nancy," said Godfrey, rather tremulously. " Can you forgive me evir?" The wrong to me is but little, Godfrey: you've made it up to me-you've been good to me for Hfteen years. It's an- S urf«.'' """' *"' "' ' '"°'" '* •*" '"^'' •* "^ Jltl "' Tu*^'. ^PP" "'"''" '^^ Godfrey. "I won't ziTo^:^ii:r^ "* '^ ^'" "• ^^ --^ o^^ *<•' " It'll be differwit coming to us, now she's grown up," said Nancy, shaking her head sadly. "But it's your duty to acknowledge her and provide for her; and I'U do my part bv her, uid pray to God Almighty to make her love me." Then we'U go together to Silas Marner's this very nieht as soon as everything's quiet at the Stone-pits " ' " '' 'wm&immj^z^jaTd. aiUkSiiARHia im CHAPTEB XIX. BrrwnM eight tnd nine o'clock that eyening, Eppi* ukI SilM were seated alone in the cottage. After the great es ■ citemeut the wearer had undergone from the erenti of to. afternoon, he had felt a longing for thii quietude, and '..if i eren begged Mrg. Winthrop and Aaron, who had natartliy lingered behind erery one elte, to leave him alone wi ,/i liic child. The excitement had not paiaed away; it ha I only reached that stage when the keenness of the susoepi.'uility makes external stimulus intolerable— when there is no s*.'i« of weariness, but rather an intensity of inward life, under which sleep is an impossibility. Any one who has watched such movements in other men remembers the brightness of the eyes and the strange definiteness that comes over coarse fea- tures from that transient influence. It is as if a new fineness of ear for all spiritual voices had sent wonder-working vibra- tions through the heavy mortal frame— as if " beauty bom of murmuring sound " had passed into the face of the listener. Silas's face showed that sort of transfiguration, as he sat in his arm-chair and looked at Eppie. She had drawn her own chair toward his knees, and leaned forward, holding both his hands, while she looked up at him. On the tkble near them, lit by a candle, lay the recovered gold— the old long-loved gold, ranged in orderly heaps, as Silas used to range it in the days when it was his only joy. He had been telling her how he used to count it every night, and how his soul was utterly desolate till she was sent to hiui. " At first, I'd a sort o' feeling come across me now and then," he was saying in a subdued tone, "as if you might be changed into the gold again; for sometimes, turn my head whinh way 1 would, I seemed to see the gold; and I thought I should be glad if I could feel it, and find it was come back. But that didn't last long. After a bit, I should have thought it was a curse come again, if it had drove you from me, for I'd got to feel the nee-do' your looks and youfvoiee and the touch o' your little fingers. You didn't know then, Eppie, when fk til I # • 170 Bn-^IURNXB. and you see if s been kL7 t . f„ T*^ ^''^ ""e "> time; It', f onderfulIo^^i.SViS""'' ''" ""''^ ^" ^-• money doesn't. I wonder Xl . wd, pondermgly-" the and a slight flush on her ZL as'lf^TJnJT.^ """ '^^^ door. The flush deex^J^Tj ^ ^^P*^ *° °i*" the W C«,. sCnSZf i^r « ""^ ^- '"'^ ^- God- door wide for t^eTt ei ""'"' '*"^^' """^ ^"^ «"> f.tSi:^:?;:«- f-- Kfton:'^„:s - ^J^^thmgs r. behoMen^,^ bett^dent ^oTC and^'':^?i~ih'i^'f . '^\*!' 5"" "^-^^ '«'--" '^ a MS wife that the subject of his fatherhood should be ap- €r^i:mm jc^f SILAS XARSSR. m ^r^A^t ""^ owefuUy, and that, if pomiWe, the diwloeuro t^ TV^ *^ "^^ *"'^' •» ^' might bTZ^^ Eppxe gradually. Nancy had nrged this, bw»xue^Mt .trongly the painful Ught in which Eppie iJ^eWtS^ 2. the relation between her father and motter '^"O'y »~ Silae, always ill at ease when he was beina snoken to K^ "betters," such as Mr. Caas-tall. powerS^fonftn seJ^ ohjefly on horsebaA-answerertrirsoine^onsTlt^' Sir, Iveadealtothankyoufora'ready. As for the rob- bery I count It no loss to me. And if /did. you ZCl help It; you aren't answerable for it " andlZ^'^ ^°?^t'* ^ *^' '"'^- *^"' but I never can; That's r* ^°? V "" "' r* *™»"^8 *° ""y O'™ f««li°g of what 8 just. I know you're easily contented : you've bMn a hard-working man all your life." ■ you ve oeen a hJl^l^i '^i ^^u" •f^'* ***™"' ""editati^ely- " I should ha' beenbad off without my work: it was what I held by when everything else was gone from me.» ^ l,i."i^''i' '^'*/*™^™y' applying Mamer's words simply to his bodily wants, " it was a good trade for you in this coiStrT because there's been a great deal of linen-weaving to Zl^e But you're getoig rather past such dose work, Mamer Tt's rifty.five, aa near as I can say, sir," said Silas. Maoevl 'Ind fw"""^ ^"^ *^^'' '"^ longer-look at old rTII f «^' "loney on the table, after all, is but little. It won't go far either way-whether it's put out to interest™ you were to liveon it as long as it wouldVt? it woS ^ far If you'd nobody to keep but yourself, and you've had t^ to keep for a good many years now " / ««* two saying, X m in no fear o' want. We shall do very well— Eppie and me 'ull do well enough. There's few woAUfli bave got so much laid by as that I don't know whaTit i, i^ gentlefolks, but I look upon it as a deal-aSmLrS^ m^^ And as for us, it's litUe we want" ^'^IZ^^'^'^'"'" '»''» =PP"' "'-^^ "P to the ITS SILAS HARNBR. i„„ ^ * It? ' »*^™' <1° y°«>. my do"? " Mud Nanoy, think- mg that tti. tarn m the point of riew might help hW huB- ^ ;; We diould agree in that: I giye a deal of Le to the "Ah, there's plenty of gardening at the Red House," said Godfrey surprised at the difficulty he found in approaohino a proportion which had ««ned so easy to hin. in tte XtZ, yew^ It ud be a great comfort to you to see her well Dro- care of by those who can leave her weU off, and make a lady of her; she's more fit for it than for a rough life such aa shn might come to have in a few years' time." A slight flush came over Mamer-sface, and disappeared -^„ M^J°« «^"- ^PP'« "" "^P'y wondering MrCws should to^k so about things that seemed to have noUiing to do with reality, but SUas was hurt and uneasy • ■•x don't take your meaning, sir," he answered, not having h^Kcrc^^wTds^^^ -^^'"^^ *-^^- -"^ -'^' have no chUdren-nobody to be the better for oui Ui home and everything else we havt^more than enough for^selv^ ^d we should like to have somebody in the place of aXugh: toto us-weriiould like to have Eppie, and treat her in evf^ voTr^I. Tu'''^'^- " '"^ ^ » ^"at comfort to you h^ your old f«e, I hope, to see her fortune made in that wav, S itT ilht "*'''«'?""« of bringing her up so weii E^^if ?. * ^°" •1?°?^'^ '"'"' "^"'y "'"d f"' that. And s^^M 'J " '"f' '"" '^'"'y- •°^"' y°" '^'1 be grateful to you: tt JoTkout T r ^°" I''^ "'**»' "^^ "« «bould all b^ on Sntti °r"'""^y "Were on words that aie coarser than his intentions, and that are likely to fall gratingly on SILAS MARNBR. 178 •UBoeptible feelings. WhUe he had been speaking, Eppie had quietly passed her arm behind Silas's head, and let her hand rest against it caressingly : she felt him trembling violenUy. He wag silent for some moments when Mr. Cass had ended— powerless under the conflict of emotions, all alike painful. Eppie's heart was swelling at the sense that her father was in distress; and she was just going to lean down and speak to him, when one struggling dread at last gained the mastery over every other in Silas, and ho said, faintly,— "Eppie, my ohUd, speak. I won't stand in your way Thank Mr. and Mrs. Cass." Eppie took her hand from her father's head, and came for- ward a step. Her cheeks were flushed, but not with shyness this time : the sense that her father was in doubi and suffering banished that sort of self-consoiousness. She dropped a cour- tesy, first to Mrs. Cass and then to Mr. Cass, and said,— " Thank you, ma'am— thank you, sir. But I can't leave my father, nor own anybody nearer than him. And I don't want to be a lady— thank yon all the same" (here Eppie diopped another courtesy). "I couldn't give up the folka I've been used to." Eppie's lip began to tremble a little at the last words. She retreated to her father's chair again, and held him round the neck: while Silas, with a subdued sob, put up his hand to grasp hers. The tears were in Nancy's eyes, but her sympathy with Eppie was, naturally, divided with distress on her husband's account. She dared not speak, wondering what was going on in her husband's mind. Godfrey felt an irritation inevitable to almost all of us when we encounter an unexpected obstacle. He had been full of his own penitence and resolution to retrieve his error as far as the time was left to him; he was possessed with all-important feelings, that were to lead to a predetermined course of action which he had fixed on as the right, and he was not prepared to enter with lively appreciation into other people's feelings nounteracting his virtuous resolves. The agitation with which he spoke again was not quite unmixed with anger. "But I've a claim on you, Eppie— the strongest of all 174 8U.A8 UABSm. wife. I'veaa^tupafoj^rLT.'?''*^' ''" '"°'^» ''M^y other." ^"^ "'"^ "^ ''" thatmuBtatand before eve? siiSt Sco^;^: wtX^a ■",' *!r"^ ^^^ p^«- swer from the dreadl J w. ^ '''^'"'«<^ ''y Eppie'fXi- hera, felt the s^ of 1^^' "^^^^ *« '" op^^ition" a touch of ?^J&:ZZ°''^^Z,'^'^, '""'''"'-' with an accent of bitterness ttmt h,^T^ "' ^^ answered, the memorable day wh^^u^L^. '^^f '"*"' '° ^'^ "ino^ "then, sir, why didn^^''^^''^/""'^ hope had perished- her before I'd come to Ce Z V^V'"'«°' '^^ «Wm from me now, when you mi^ht J^, °/ T"""* '° 'ake her "■y body? God gave^W to m« ^ '^^^ ""> '''"^ 0°' «' upon her, and kTi^LZ^L^T^ ^"^ *«"«i your back ben When a man t^nsTblessW CT h^°."''' "" "«^' '« them as take it in." "messing from his door, it faUs to "I know that, Mamer I w oondtiot in that matter" said rl^°*' ^> 'epented of my feeling the edge of Ss w"rds ^"^' "'^^ ""^^ "°* ^4 O^^^JX^, XlSoTsSelr-'r?' gathering e. Mamer," saiToXr 11°°'' "* ^^ *^^ '^°"> reasonably direct ^th-speS ^'-rS '"^■,*r '^ '^^ -«aver^ quite away from yf„, so C vo^'H *""" *" '^ 'aken She'll be very new yo^ ^T^J t °*^*"' '"^ ^^^ again. She'll feel iusithe^a^rtora^?^;,,*" - you very ^ften. tiust the same?" ooiri ilt •' **• "How'U she feel just he s^Tfor'r"* v*^'^^ '^'^ «-"• we eat o' the same' bit, a^dTtak o' the*" ' '^°'' °°'' ^'"'" o' the same things from one Z's Jd . "*""' "^P' ""^ ""ink Bame? that's idle talk YouM n, f ^ '"'°**"'^'' ^ust the n^j£ "wja. lou a cut us i' fwn " SO-Afl MAUNiai. 175 rifioe) to oppose what was unL,!tr^, !" °''° P""" »* "«r ) " I'll aay no more. Let it be as "you will. Speak to the child. I'll hinder nothing." Even Nancy, with all the acute eeniibUity of her own affeo- tione, shared her husband's view, that llamer was not justifi- able in his wish to retain Eppie, after her real father had avowed himself. She felt that it was a very hard trial for the poor weaver, but her code allowed no question that a father by blood must have a chum above that of any foster-father Besides, Nancy, used all her life to plenteous circumstances and the privileges of " respectabUity, " could not enter into the pleasures which early nurture and habit connect with all the Ixttle aims and efforts of the poor who are bom poor: to her mmd, Eppie, in being restored to her birthright, was entering on a too long withheld but unquestionable good. Hence she heard Silas's last words with relief, and thought, as Godfrey did, that their wish was achieved. "Eppie, my dear," said Godfrey, looking at his daughter, not without some embarrassment, under the sense that she was old enough to judge him, "if 11 always be our wish that you should show your love and gratitude to one who's been a father to you so many years, anC we shall want to help you to make him comfortable in every way. But we hope you'll come to love us as well; and though I haven't been what a father should ha' been to you all these years, I wish to do th.^ utmost in my power for you for the rest of my life, and pro- vide for you as my only chUd. And you'll have the best of mothers m my wife— that'U be a blessing you haven't known smoe you were old enough to know it." "My dear, you'll be a treasure to me," said Nancy, in ker gentie voice. " We shaU want for nothing when we have our daughter." Eppie did not come forward and courtesy, as she had done before. She held Silas's hand in hers, and grasped it firmly— It was a weaver's hand, with a palm and finger-tips that were sensitive to such pressure— whUe she spoke with colder deci- sion than before. "Thank you, ma'am— thank you, sir, for your offers— they' re very great, and far above my wish. For I should have no dohght i' life any more if I was forced to go away from my BU.Ae MAHNBa ITT •nd fwhiig Ion,. We've been used to be happylogether everyday, and I oan't think o' no h.ppine*. ^LTtl. ^d h-MT" •" l°,°^y '' *« "O'W tin I wa. sent to bin,, rf »e .nH^^"^"""! ^^'° ^ '- S"""- '^"'1 "o'" took «Te ^Z." "^ ""^^ ""^ «"'' ~»« ^'^^ ^-i^ "vou y°° ""^ ""*«««™. Eppie," »id Silaa, in a low voice - you muBt make sure as you won't ever be sorry, because POM olottes^ and things when you might ha' had everything His sensitiveness on this point had increased as he listened to Eppie's words of faithful affection «» " »« ^"^^ know Z.Tri^\'°"'' "*^"'' " "^^ =PP'«- " I "I'O'Jd"'* W what to Uunk on or to wish for with fine things about me. as I haven't been used to. And it 'ud be poor l^rk for ch«™h^ ?l tk-"!?-. and ride in a gig, and sit iTa place at church, as 'ud make them «, I'm fond of think me unfitting company for 'em. What coald /car. for them?" ' Nancy looked at Godfrey with a pwned questioning glance. Itlr ^H .t* "u ** *" '•" P*""^"*"B °" something ab- sentiy^e thought there was a word which might perhaps come better from her lips than from his. 'B"> Pernap* »kI^^* ^^ ^' " '"*""'' "y •^^'^ child-it's natural you but there's a duty you owe to your lawful father. There's perhaps something to be given up on more sidT thl one When your father opens his home to yon, I think it's right you shouldn't turn your back on it." "^ " s ngnt "I can't feel as I've got any father but one," said Eppie, TSt' "''V' ''\''r '^'^'^^ "I've^ways thouQ I w.^n-.T'^^K^**'" ^''"= ^ can't think o' no other home wavs AnT'-'lL '^""f "^"^*' """ '''"" victuals, and their ways. And, she ended passionately, whUe the teats fell, f.l ^^c%r tiMkfm 178 SILAS KABNXR. " I'm promiMd to many a working-man, tm 'U live withtather. and help me to take care of him." Godfrey looked up at Nancy with a flnnhed face and smart- ing dUated eyes. This frustration of a purpose toward which he had set out under the exalted consciousness that he was about to compensate in some degree for the greatest demerit of ms life, made him feel the air of the room stifling. "Let us go," he said, in an undertone. .. w^* ''°°'* ^^ "* ^" ""y '°°8«'" "<"'' " 8"d Nancy, rising. We're your well-wishers, my dear-and yours too, Mamer. We shall come and see you again. It's getting late now." to this way she covered her husband's abrupt departure, for Oodfrey had gone straight to the door, unable to say more. CHAPTER XX. Nanct and Godfrey walked home under the storUght in si- lence. When they entered the oaken parlor, Godfrey threw lumself into hU chair, whUe Nancy laid down her bonnet and shawl, and stood on the hearth near her husband, unwilling to leave him even for a few minutes, and yet fearing to utter any word lest It might jar on his feeling. At last Godfrey turned his head toward her, and their eyes met, dwelling in that meeting without any movement on either side. That quiet mutual gaze of a trusting husband and wife is like the first moment of rest or refuge from a great weariness or a great danger--not to be interfered with by speech or action which would distract the sensations from the fresh enjoyment of But presently he put out his hand, and as Nancy placed hers within It, he drew her toward him, and said.— "That's ended!" She bent to kiss him, and then said, as she stood by his side. Yes, I'm afraid we must give up the hope of havine her for a daughter. It wouldn't be right to want to force her to come to us affalnnt her will. — Up and whaVs come of it." 'M9tt21# I*^: flP SILAS MARNXR. m oo„if«t ^t ^P^^'r*^ » keen deouiwneM of tone, in S^t . J'i^'"'' """«"y<«"«l«» and anemph«tic speeah- there'. debta we can't pay like money debts, l^r payiigZra for the ye«s that h.ye slipped by. WhUe I'vTCn pu^ off and putting off, the trees have been growing-it's L lali now. Mamer was m the right in what he said about a man's turnmg away a blessing from his door: it falls to somebody '^\ l"^^ *° ^"^ ^°' ''^"'"•" ""o^. Nancy_I shaU pass for childless now against my wish." Nancy did not speak immediately, but after a littie while she «&ed-« You won't make it known, then, about Eppie's being your daughter? " *^*^ T "^°-' ''^f* ^""Id be the good to anybody ?-only harm. I must do what I can for her in the state of life she chooses I must see who it is she's thinking of marrying. " "If it won't do any good to make the thing known," said Jfanoy, who thought she might now allow herself the relief of entertaining afeelingwhich she had tried to silenee before "I should be very thankful for father and PrisclUa never te be troubled with knowing what was done in the past, more than about Dunsey : it can't be helped, their knowing that" T "J 1^*^^' " ^^^ '"'-^ ^"^ ^ '^^ P"t it « "ly will. I shouldn't like to leave anything to be found out, Uke thia about Dunsey, " said Godfrey, meditatively. " But I can' t see anything but difficulties that 'ud come from telling it now I must do what I can to make her happy in her own way I've a notiou," he added, after a moment's pause, "it's Aaron Winthiop she meant she was engaged to. 1 remember seeing him with her and Mamer going away from church." " Well, he's very sober and industrious," said Nancy, trvine to view the matter as cheerfully as possible. •" •' » Godfrey feU into thoughtfulness agai^. Presentlv he looked up at Nancy sorrowfully, and said,— "She's a very pretty, nice g'irl, isn't phe, Nancy?" " Yes, d^i and with just your hair and ejcs ; I wondered It had never struck me before." " I think she took a dislike to me at the thought of jar be- ing herfather: Icould see a change in her manner after that" She couldn't bear to think of not looking on Mamer as her ^•Vl IM aiI.AB MAHmR. She think, m. woi., thw I «n. But d., ««« thmk Z X no nght to eipeot anything but evil ooiUd come of that mar- ruge-wxd when I shirked doing a father's part too » Nanoy was silent: her spirit of rectitude would not let her taon. He spoke again after a little while, but the tone was S'se'Spfoacr ''" '"^•"•^ n.iSgledwithth?;,e" "AM I got yo«, Nanoy, in spite of aU; and yet IVe been ^fj""'!' "*''" '**° ''*°*'°« *° ««> Godfrey," said Nanov with qmet smoerity. « My only trouble would be ^neUy^ resigned yourself to the lot that's been given u. " ^ ThZf":^')*^,'^ ^'* *«> l»t« to 'nend a bit there. Though It « too late to mend some things «»y what tSJ CHAPTEB XXI. Tm nrat ioming, when Silas and jippie were seated at their breakfast, he raid to her,- " ™l?f !f' '^"''!!' * *^» ^'^^ ^""^ "^ ""y '"'"d to do this two do Tt V lZ*^l'-°'''^:» been l>«>ugnt back to «,, we oL T fH V M^'" *^"'8 '' "^" *■"* »''«' in the night, and wImTL" i'*i ""* *°-"'°"°''' ''^l^ "»« fine 4" Ct We 11 leave the house and everything for your godmotheTto take oare on, and we'U n.ake a little bundle^' tC^ td ,e1 "Where to go, daddy?" said Eppie, in much surprise. Lantern V'^ count,7_to the town r-Ure I wrbom-up Laotom Yard. I want to see Mr. Paston. the ministor: som" BH^ XABHXR in ««, to. I partly think he doem't know on it " iSpp.e was very joyful, for there was the prosneot not onl. wise, than ,he was about IfLt-t^^uTdVx^f s::rrur;»^-r;ith-^^^^^ rroft:k^z-uro,z-r7^7S ^rr^iir^r r^on""' ^^ -* " '"• ^ »- «>-' M:^ri.s.??ti? Qy^!!i;ryi' ruij-i^n there's any light to be got up fte Yard Tyou S'on^e've th-1^ r !^" '^"f" "^^ '"^ '»** *i"«. Silas and Eppie. in tte„ Sunday clothes, with a sn.aU bundle tied in a blue Itaen handkerchief, were making their way through the streets of a gn^manufacturingtown. SiUs, bewildered by t^eTLls ^ITJwT^ ^^ Buooassion to ask them the name of Zi town, ttathemightbesurehe wasnotunderamistake about it thltt f" ^r.*"" ^'"^ father-ask this geXmwitt the tassels on his shoulders a-standine at the .hnn h^ T ner tather s bewilderment, and ill at ease, besides amidst «>,« n^e. the movement, and the multitude of ^^ Serent Sil^^'ZtS 5",'°°'* '"'o^ ""ytting about it," said ""as, gentlefolks didn't ever (to «n th« V«r,? n„4.i. somebody can tell m« which i= th. - -T i" - ^^^ the ii.iI i. T 1. Ju " '■' *" "i-wu Street, where te^;!J. "■• ^ ^"'^ ""• '"'y out r ■ that as U I'd see^it yes- %;.-., m MKIOOOiV •WWnOH TKT CHAIT (*NSIondlSOT£STCH*llTNo. 1.0 IM la u I.I 1.25 bS 12:0 1U|U ^ 1853 Eo.t Main StrMi Ro<:hj.(.r. N«» Yort t4609 US '!» «2-03<»-Pt».,;'" '^ CI") 2M-5M«-Fm 182 BaAS UARNIilL Witt some difficulty, after many turnings and new-inani- jail, the first object that answered to any image in Silas's memory, cheered him with the certitude, which^o ^u^ce naS: X °""'' "" "*"*"*" ^^^-^ ^' «>»* •"« -- ^hU "Ah," he said, drawing a long breath, "there's the iail Eppiei that's just the same: I aren't 2aid now It'sle t;\^Z °^.^ ^'" "^^ ^"^ ^^ ^^ -^— «">*'« t^e the' 2;r^Tt't '^"'' "*'I P'^t' " "^^ =PP"- " H"" it I^des 7l't7 -1- ■"""* "^ *« Workhouse. I'm glad you steet? ''' "* " *°'" "°'^' '**''•'" ^« ^'^'O"' ^"-i "k« "'i^ str'^uZ'tSir" ?'^'^" '^'^ ^""' '"^'"»' "'* ""'* "^ big sfaeet like tlus. I never was easy i' this street myseU, but I was fond o' Lantern Yard. The shops here are all altered I th.nk-1 can't make 'em out; but I shall know tte tw^L because it's the third. ""mmg, " Here it is " he said, in a tone of satisfaction, as they came to a narrow alley. "And then we must go to tte left a^ we shaU be at the entry next to the o'erhanging window rSrsSrii*^^ ■"'' "^ *"* ""^ ^^ ^^^ waterrrun.^'El: ",? f?*^*^' r™ li^« *» if I was stifled," said Eppie "I couldn't ha' thought as any folks lived 1^ this way^^o close together. How pretty the Stone-pits 'ull look when te^t ™.r.J*.i!°°t'' T'"^ *" ""' "^^^ >»ow-*nd smells bad. I can't thmk as it usened to smell so." Here and there a sallow, begrimed face looked out from a gloomy doorway at the strangers, and increased Eppie's un- ZTft' ^° *^'''.i*^« » l°n«ed-for relief when they i3,u^ strip o?sk^'^' ^^°" ^'' ''^••'"tl'^^was a broad» ''De« hearti '' said SUas, "why, there's people coming out o the Yard as if they'd been to chapel at this time o' L- a week-day noon I" -^^o o uajr SILAS HARNEB. 18S Suddenly he started and sKkkI still with a look of distressed ^azement that alarmed Eppie. They were before ToTn were streaming for their mid-day meal ma'Sr-''" "^^ ^^^^' "^P^8 ^ '^' "'^J"*'" the But she had to speak again and again before SUas could answer her. "It's gone child," he said, at last, in strong agitation- "Lantera Yard's gone It must ha' been here, bLaWhere's the house with the o'erhanging window_I know that-ifs ust the same; but they're made this new openingr^TL that big factory I It's all gone-chapel and all » thJnT.'"'" that little brush-shop and sit down, father- lest one of her father's strange attacks should come on. " Per- haps the people can teU you all about it " T^nr'nT'*!'" *"'"' ^^^ ^^^-^^o^, who had come to Shoe L^e only ten y^s ago, when the factory was already buUt, nor from any other source within his reach, couM Silas leam 2^Z^r. "'" ''"•*''" ^"-^ ^""*^' " °* ^- P"^ wU^^ °'^ Fv"°*.'l "" '"*?' """y-" Silaa said to Dolly Wmthrop onthe night of his return-" the little graveyari andeverrai-g. The old home's gone, I've no homZftS^ now^ I shall never know whether they got at the truth o' the robbery nor whether Mr. Paston could ha' given me ^y Ught about the drawing o' the lots. It's dark to me, Mrs Win- throp, that is; I doubt it'll be dark to the last » "Well, yes. Master Mamer," said Dolly, who sat with a placid listening face, now bordered by gray hairs '"I^oubt Jt may It's the wiU o' Them above as fZny tttogs shS Ik Sout^^id th *^''"'' "T ^^^^ ■« I'--verLi' the dark about, and they're mostly what comes i' the day's work iZ'^never'r '^.'"^^r"' ^-'"^-ner, anlit::^ as you U never fc.ow the rights of it; but that doesn't hinder Sd meT '• "* ' ^'^'" *'"°'"' *" '^ '''" ^o" to you «N<%" said Silas, "no; that doesn't hinder. Since the SILAS UARNER. 184 «y. .i.e'11 never ,e.*.e », iti^ S ACiTaiJ^ CONCLUSION. lilacs and labamums in thi ol J^^*^' / '" '''*° **« 8'«at golden and MV^it^^T^''f«'"^'"^'^o^'>^^^i' when there we™ oLTIT.T^,! " ^"'''^"■tin-od walls, an,l of fragr^t mSk pI„ W ^°""8 "«°"8h *» 'ant buoketfuls beoo^f ..eX ^ftiraS.'raSdrr„a"'? ^'^ in; and besides, it was a timo ,^ ™a tne mowing had set be worn with co Jp7anVrnl'rX ''^'^ "^'^^ "°"'^ lii^sc.rirthrErr'^'^'^ --- - *^« was a very light3* She h!!V^.^'"1:'^ ^" ''"'J'««» feeling of Liinoiation fW ?^ !^" *^°"8'"^ *^°"8J' '^tl' a would-be nSri tifW.^?'"*'°" °* * wedduig-dress intervals; sottLT w W mT'^^V""^' ^^ ^^"8 »* '^i''* one. and askerEppie to^L J*^. ^'^' ^««'^ *° P"""* meditation C Sdlf ril'^d^ided'^' *"' ^""^""^ Seen at a little distance MK^lvi T""" ** °'"=''- and down the villwe sh« ^^ ^^f *""°'* *^« "burohyard and her hair loSe^X ^Tk ^ ^/^""^ ^ P"'« ^^^^' was on her hustS'sl^^" 'ftifh^'' Z" ^'- '^'"^'^^ hand of her fatW SUM ' ''*^ '^'' °*^''' "'"« "Gasped the for'iryr:: Scith^'^^r'^fon^a''::^^'' r -^^ "- a son to you " ' ^ "'^ "^ Baku's Aaron to be endXssr^rptssj""''-^--'^^ — mete/walXd^ST' *"i?'' ** '"^ ""^ ^'^^ P"'-'"!* Lam- up to tTfdS of^e BeTi '''" '**^" ^» oL o/hif own f^Uy *"' like thaT^^nH^" t* ^"^"^ ^^ ^^ '^^ '"'='' *° find a child l^e that and bring her up," said PriscUla to her father as hK."? "^XFV "^ "^""^^ ^^'^ something S to think of then, besides the lambs and the calves „ •* ^ ""^ "^ Yes, my dear, yes," said Mr. Lammeter; "one feels that as one gets older. Things look dim to old fo ks : tWd nee] have some young eyes about 'em, to let 'em know th/world's the same as it used to be." «,^*^j°'™* °"* ""^ *° ^"^'^^^ her father and sister- and the weddmg group had passed on beyond the Red House to the humbler part of the village. whS Z""^?- T *^* *"' *° '^'^■°» «"»' "Id Mr. Macey. who had been set in his arm-chair outside his own door, woufd exp«,t some sperial notice as they passed, since he was CoS to be at the wedding-feast. "hJf^'J^f-l ^°°^^ ^ " '""^ ^"^ »»'" «aid Dolly: he 11 be hurt ,f we pass him and say nothing-and him so rooked with rheumatiz." e »"" aim so H«^hJ''w,vT/'^ ""i?^ K"^" ^^ ^'^ the old man. 'T/^. ^^^ Mamer," he said, in a voice that quavered a first to say there was no harm in yon, though your looks might be again' you, and I was the first to say you'dTet Zr money back. And it's nothing but rightful I^ youSd And I'd ha' said the 'Amens,' and willing, at the holy mZl mony, but Tookey's done it a good wh^le now and iC you' U have none the worse luck. " w, ana i nope In the open yard before the Rainbow the party of guests were already assembled, though it wa. still nearfy anTu^ before the appomted feast-time. But by this means they could not only en oy the show advent of their pleasure ^ had also ample leisure to talk of Silas M.imer's strange his^ if-ii^^n-^^^i^ 186 BILA8 MARNXa motherless child. SveaTe L^i«,^f '\' * '**^'* *» » J""' ■md invited any CS^^n^^ ."? " ^"""^^ ^^ o^". he met with no coSd^tior. ^ZTZT'^'^ '^^ «"' company were merged in r^„,^ differences among the sentiment, that S i^mf^t.^ "freement with Mr. Snell's retained their accUle WrfoTnTirLSZ t't" '*' there and reoe ve congratnlaHon.. ZZ T?**"^ *<> turn m iiaterval of quiet at KnSs 1^^^^"'™* 'J"" P"'!^*'^ Eppie had a larger SntC ^!T,r°"* *^'' '^^•^^■ now; and in other wayTthereC^ i*^"' *'*P*"'«'^ «"«" pense of Mr. Cass ITlanZi ? *" •" «J'««'«'»>8 at the ex- For he and EppTe had ^? 1* ^ """* ^^''' 1"8» family, at the StoneStht J to"^^ ^^''V*'"'^ '""^'^ «'«'«' -4 fenced with stoned" C XZt rf^.?!.^'"" '"^ open fence, through whir^e W™ shotT^.^''" ""^ -"^ gladness, as the four nnit.^ !Z , ™ """e ^^ answering ^ " fatter, " s'TeTp J'.fX? T::Zf' "■«"* °' «"- a^ nobody oouJd b/LJpielSLVe «^,f """^ °'"« "' ^ "TO 0» SttAS MABKSB. ■lill 'msi^^mMm^M... ?^ THE LIFTED VEIL. QlTO m no Itof. giwrt Hwen, tat ma, M tom n eneru of buman teUowaUp ; No powen bejond tbe minum berltua Hat aalua compteter manlwod. CHAPTER I. I am watehmg a tongue of blue flame rismg in the Can^ Dull ft ,^i *r ^ °°'y l«ve time to reach the beU, Ld NoonUSrSe^mrbJf^ TC"' 'f'^T'' ^^^ •^- are love,, ^1.^^^,^^^% hSl^™^ ilii THB UPTBD VEIL. bell; it does not w^ke Lr Th^ " "T' "°"""' «"> orea««; mj lamp so^. out Li^ I "^f « °' "uffooation in- great effort and^f^ht The^:,,'"'"'-'"' '^""^^ ^ "'•k* » and there is no help i ttirltdS T^\ ^ '°°« ^°' >«<^ « gone. O God, let meTtey'StK k!°^°''': ""' *"" of It: I am content A«mv „r!:- ^°'"'' »°'^ ^e weaiy the while the earSJ the Mds 1.?°^'^'' fff«"'«on-aad aU of the rookery, the f^sh st^i Sf/tv"^ ^"~^ ** «>« bo^om inomingthroighmyXmW wi^^' ^^' '""' "'"' "«''* »' t^e after the frosty air-;irdarkZ/r''^'''"'°*^"''^«h^ Darkness-darkneM nT n • "T""" *'«° *°"'» ? I an. passin,™d;n"°ihrgrr'2k^"* '"'""^^ ""' stays in the darkness, but alXs w^h t^'^'i "^ "'°"«'' ward. ... ^ tuways with a sense of moving on- and^XtltCre's:"' ^T " "^ ^-* ''°«" "^ <«- have ne vfr mPTCL'^^^TZ l^l "^T?^- ^ have never been enoonrawd toTT ^^ ^"'"™ '^^Ki ^ my fellow-men. BuTwfha^ TaT "" ? "^^"^y °' Bomepity, some tenderness, s^mJlw^t^::,''* """"i^g^ith Jt n, the living only who o^T^^^^Z Z:T!> ^''^- from whom men's inrlni....- o «rgiTen— the living onlv the rain by the h^^^S m^l'^r."* ""^'^ "«• "J'' it-it is Tour only op^Sy Sfe'^''''"^ •*'"»' »'™-<' I toward you witt mo^VSd e^S ^L'^'-T- 1'^ *^ unanswering gaze- whiI«Tl.= '"^^f'^' "««» Jt with an icy the inmost san^'S'^e sor'„.?V?wT*^ "'^'^''S" ^ kindness, put itStt^^S^ t „^' " *"' *"'""' "' or envious affectation of indWe^ ^J'^T^e <>ompliment, can still throb with the^nse ofTm' I " *^! '"«''«^« brain for brotherly reoogni^on-mX W^"'' '"*^ *'"' ^^""^^ ill-considered jud^ento, y^^J^J^"^^''" ''"''^ y""" less misrepresiitaUons iTh^aTl nT"""""' ^^^ «"""■ ■MMpaoD on Bwiff, tombafato jr-f^. THE LDTKD VEtt. 3 «d pity U>e toU «.d th. .truret '.fd JIC r*""*' may give due honor to the work aohi^v-T .^ ' **"° ^°" extenuation for errors Indl« J!! ??' .***" y°" ""V ^nd on me when I was LnoL^ ' t ^' '"'"°*' "^V ""^ot*^ life that wiU ZZ^^DZ ^' " °'^y "^^ •*<»y of ""y ger. when I aTSth^l it^h!?"" ''^'"P**^^ '""" ""««- my friend. whUe I wS^i7" would obtain from indefinL'lS ^thrSro^^'iL.^TCt'I;.''^^ ':«* even now aft., tj,- j '""™w. ana 1 had a tender mother- of «.n«tio„1^mpaS^iT °V°"« '*»"' » »"«''* '«<» held me on hXT^W f^"«"<»°,b««<'« <" her caress as she pressed on mL^T^JraTmS r,^"^'"^^' ^""•'I'eek blind for a little wMe .^dThl^ ? *^*' '^'"' *^* °"«1« ""» morning till Zht tw n ^?^. .""' °° •"" '°'«' *">"> of my lae/and e*en to^v?KT'l^'^ '°^'' "^ ''^^'d out that ^ife h.r^^: mo™'^=S'"'l ^ef TT ''J-" " " with the groom by my si^e aa before^,. 7 ^*"'' "^^ P"°y eyes looking at me af I m ot^^ "i t^V^"" """ ""> 1°^8 s^-m^riTiiS^tof^-^^^^^^ Slu-rsrStem^j'^^^^^^ by the tramoin/of T. ^ "*"*«'»«°' with which I was affected 8tebles.Ttte Zh /ir*'' °° *' P*^"""*"* ^ «"> «»hoing bo<»^bg baS Se r°""* °^*'' 8''~°"'' ^""o^. by thf under 1 Sh^afof t^.'"^^ ^"f ?'' "^'^^ '^""^ered THB UFTXD VEIL, -made me «,b and SembU .„T "l" V" '"»•• '""•"k. hereg^deda. ^pSSduCZr'"' ",'^"^*^'«" middle of life, a^d I waa not ;» ^l "" ti""'^ P"*' '^-^ been his second wife «^i, .""'^ '""• ^^ "«>«•«' had in root andlU" l^W hT *k * i"'*""*^^ ""'"'J' ""«, people who areSwZuifel™!!'',^'"/"'"'*''' °'"' »' ">»'«' are uninfluenced ^^hfwi' Z ~^.'^l'° "^y- '''"> choly nor high epi^iu I heMiiTln ^'^? ^"^ ""''^■ peared more timid and eenaiti™ in ^- *"*' ""*' '^'^ "P" times, aoircumsl^wh^h ~,W rrr *'"'^''* °"«« in the intention to ^^TLTI^^'a^^ *° ''°°*™ "» prescriptive one wi^w^.^h he hJ Tl P'*" *«"° *he my elder brother dreLv a un '^'',f°'°Pl'«d ^ the case of was to be his «p«^e^ti„ J""*^ »' *=*°°- % brother Eton and O^TH^ ttTsTe 0?"^^ ' '" """* «° *° course: my father was not a ^n f^ ^ * connections, of I*tin sat4t8 or G^k d«^. underrate the bearing of «ristocratic^si?L B„^ ?^ ^^ ,? ^^ attainment of an for « those dC tt' scfpteTSl^^'* ""^ '"«*" «'**«'" ■elf for forming an ^IZ^a ^P"^^";, having qualified him- ;'^hyiurf issrs"ks .I'Lrr.f ?-:» Stioj^uh's^s-pSr^' ^1^^?"" --- education was thTi^lvCft^ ^ > *'^* " '^'«"tifio Moreover, it w^clSa?! i *""°'"8 '" « yo-^ger son. notfitto'encZtei roLhet^''""''^! •^y"'' '»«''«» Mr. Letherall had^L^/s^X l^dir Vr fiS t'^' »pIo»t„ry, sSoSSrerf^Lri'ereaTh o?S: "^ "^ TH» UFTKD VBIL. 5 "The I.fiei.„eytS^."l^-':raI7hZ»'^^^^^^^^^ touohmg the upper .idee ot my h.-d ^he« U fi, *"' that Private h.t. "T^ ,'.""•' ''"'""'w Presently clear magnetian. «. fltllir^ ^wLTv^^Th'^'r'"^'"'* they were. As it wan I «onlH iT ' *^«^ Thursday, assured of whatever w« ^S m^wttST^ P"'"'' °*^ '" *«»°"^<'« w« ever turned o.t'^t.'^l^l^ "tZf. "rrdtu^r and Shakespeare, and Don QuixntB h„ til 1 ™*'' ^'"taroh, u^yseU in th'at w'ay witt waS'S tSugW 'whHe "^1:' was assuring me that "an in,r.,«^J7 ^ ^ ,. "^ '"*°'" W an ignorant Z Z a^rwtrew" e'^etf \^ r;irZSe ^ "^ "° ^«^ -^hi^tproTS ^«i'C4i.'.i.st^Ksr " "■" "- There is no need to dwell on this part of mv life T h«,<. »a.d enough to indicate that n.y natu're w« ^ttfsensiS m THl LUTID VBIL. "■•-t When I w„ .U te«;1 wJ^^^^PPy- •"•'% d«-1•' "^> Po«t, from this early «n.ihil?^ » w^* ^ """* ^^o been a not «, happy a. ttlt A ^l^ ^"""'- »»' n>7 lot wa. be floated -oo/erTrTaL bTL'IJ? "''"^ '''• '""^ wiU hi. voioe-the poet', .enj bilfty tW C '""'""'>' "'""""t *«aw on the .unny bank, when tl. . "7"°' ''"' » '"ent ye water, or in a^ ^tid 'hudde, 7f^'' "«5* "P""'* O" n.«n tone., the eight of a co'd W "'* '?'"' »' ^areh hn- bring, with it a /atal ^uSS'TiTn";^!' '' '*""'' P^-^- fellow-men. My leaat «,ii*.„ ° *"* KHSiety of one'. I pushed off in mytit, ifZnlTT*" T "««•'" -"oh lake; it .eemed to mVtut theZ t^.T"'',"''' """" »' *be top., and the wide Wuewate- mA„ ^^* «'"'''»« mountain- ing love .uch a. no human fJn^*^ f « with a cheri.h- -other'. We had vani. W /^of *t Sf T ""« -oe my Jean Jacques did—lie down in LI Cl. , ^ "■«"* to do a. it would, while I iooked u7a^tS7d^ Jl"** '*,' '' «^'^' ''^ere mountain-top after the ot^wL if l?^v* ^"^ ^«»^<°« ""o were paaeing over them .m S way to IT'"'* J ?}^°' "^ «" when the white emnmite werl^ .!5 T"*'**^'- Then, to pudx homewardX il^*i'»f «n sbipi and, .inguiariy enough, it wafw^T "^ """^ *^«°'^- leotual tendencies were the 4«1. ' y°"* ''boae intel- oall him Charles uZl^M^Zr'"'"' °' ""y "^n. I sh^l to he. w« of EngC^ir-w!^!-"" .^«««J> o-'^^ '« since become cele- ^ iL rai UPTBD VEIL. J Won, I .hould have to^f ,^.'"1^ ""d given up tooontempl,. -t pa-ion WM «ie„^" 8^.7?^^*^ ' ^"""'^ "•">" """g" with the brilliant, the^^™! ! *r». "P*"'^ '"'•■"' 'J"" ""P^ community of f^C CWlLw.^"""""' ito«aef™m byOenev;ae,a..-„,"'.„d?orl„ceptabriId"' "•'''• ''''"'''"' Mw that he was isolated ..T^i ?"""ng-n>om8. I oau^,, and, .timul^ hj^ „ J"!','?.""*'' '""• " "J'^^'nt timid advi,ce. to "a^ L 'iT'^^'^!"'' ,T°*°"""' ^ ""«»• "Prang up a. much ^mrSe.h,n ^^ "*'' *° '"^ ">«* ">•'» habito would allow Mrir(^^,? ^""^ "» " our different the Salive togethir o?L^- ^« ^ A'"f ' '"'"''»>" '^o ''^nt up dreamily to Se l^o W, L^i*". ^'^"y- 7'^"'' ^ '"*«"''d oonoeptions of future Smlf J* .•?" ""^"''^'^ ^« bold them confusedly LmXuZ"L^' f"^'"^- ^ -"-8^ and delioatefloatinB oioud wffl A * '"P"* °' blue waV, distant glitter^f the Zler H^W °°'*' °' ''^'' '^'^ '^ ' mind wa« half absent yeTh« nv ^ * T.^""« "*" t^"" "> for don't we talk of o^ hoU ^ t<"alk to me in this way", and birds. wh» ^eyTovtTsri h^ ^"^"""^ •'^«° *° '»'^» friendship because of ite oonnLf ^"""-"t'oned this one rible scene which I rf,^ wT" '''^ ? ''*«"S' and ter- jj^^ siiau have to narrate in my subsequent aw! tesf^^sr^rmT zr *° ^^ • -- remembered suflerin/wia^T« ' ^"^'^ * '*'°*' "^ dimly bed from time ^^. ^^:^Tt'^'!^'^'' '^ ""^ convalescence, the days .TradusIlTh™ t^*^"* '"°'""°°y "^ distinctness u my TteenftT^^^...^ ^""^ '"*" ^"'«'y and longer drives. ^ te ff tW. ""' *" '*^« '•"•««'^ «"d days .^the, 2drm? "rsaTSsir^;-?^ ^^^^ take^u^ire^fth^r ^?h=L*: "r- ^' ^^' ^«^»" yo. good, for I shall g, throughTe V^^, ^^T/"" "^^ ^ you wai eer many new pCT ft,, n^^L^'' ^^'"»' """^ J' "»w pxaoes. Our neighbors, the Klmores, il I 8 THE LUTED VEIL. a strange sense tha?ar,f .^ woL™ *^' ''"'^ ^'■''^' ^'"^ upon me: a city under H^Ji, 7 ^°"' scene was breaking « ii it were"l^e"sie^',;Xnf T *""* -^""^ *° -« rested in its oourse-^rflf™T^T ' '°°8-PMt ' «ntury ar- or the rushing raSrXudl^?' T" ''^ *^« '^•"" »* "Xh eaten grandeur oTaneolT""! *^" ^'""^' ''^- ^^- repetition of ^nellX ^ZZ *°. "^^ °° ^^« "t^" in their regal gold-iTwoven Lt^s t"^** "uperannnated kings that the broad river seemed fl v* "'^ ^°°^^ «> t^rsty blackened statue^arSS Tdf^r. l^ '°*'^' "^-^ 'he the unending brWge wiKl;, • *'"'" ^^^ 8*^' "^ong saintly crowns, seemed tLm .1 ^''"' «*™«°*» «" "' '^"'y "^« new birth of morning * '^^^ °* "^Kht or the of the fire-irons had Men ^ fc " "^ r'"' "S"^-' one me my draught. Mv W w« , T"!^ ^^ ^°°' *° bring begged Pierrf to leav^^^la^Mr"* 7'*°"^' '^^ ' presently. ^ oraugnt beside me; I would take it I ^'zri:zf%i:2i a r *" ^^^ -^-^ -'•o*^^ distinct vision-minute to1f«H»ff f«a°'-this wonderfuUy winbow light onTeTavL'nf !""'"*" '^"'^ *» " P^toh of lamp inth!ah:^?f\P3~fV:Srf > *'""«'' "-'-«' aiar— ot a strange city, quite unfamiliar kgo to- THB LUTED VEIL. 9 to my imagination? I had seen no pioture of Pr«m,- * , oomral^ ly^Ct from being utterly disjointed and ness of the landscape as th« »„n ift .v 8™"""* distmct- ing mist. A^rXe I ™ • "^ ^^^ ^"^ °* *^« ""'">- -Venice h.r ^ 7^^^?^ my minfl oa smne other place ^«gue. perhaps the same sort of result 10 THE LIFTED VEIL. m-. < I tofeelmyse/pSt W ^"''t''^ T"""™^ an^d strove iB Prague BrrvJ^ r Z.'" ^, '''^,^''?' ""y'*" ?"">«"' engraTgs that hi r^y old^i^tr* the Ca„aletto was a shiftinii one. mv ,^L bedroom at home; the picture of more^^I ^l T^™! """^ uncertainly in Woh shadow without3ousUW,r .T '^''^"^* "* *°™ <" It was all pros^o effort nM^'*'''°*''^'«^ «'°°'«tio°''- experiencedZraVh:^*'^^''PV«»™'7, such as I had remembered that inspira"onw«fitL '^^"^' ""t I «.ing Xtion SgrmVSSg S "It IT"'' world remained as dim as ever and ftat fl«T'* 7 "(.""^ SgXrr -- *^-""s^^ - "X!i;rt* musical box'Ld ottei ttr *'^* ^° '°»''*^*^ *° ^^l*"* » rich Englishm^'v-X'atr TeT^!^ ''T^ "' ' =it;irady^£rth"^^^^^^^ particular to »«preiIon, thofS^TraohS, S* ot wme, I m afraid something has happened to mv father todrooni, adjouung the ,„fo„, and opened a case of e^-"e^ V u THE LIFTED VEIL. vng outthe cork very neady, and then rubbed the reTirmR spin over my hands and forehead, and under my ToISu* Air JJ^T tTil °' ^'■^' '^^ ^^ °° "t^^K^ "dden madness Already I had begun to taste something of the horror that b^ to°sC ^ '"* "" * ^."""^ '^^S whosf nature is nTa^ult^ to simple human conditions. »"J"»m)q SHU enjoying the scent, I returned to the salon, but it was not ^occupied^ as it had been before I left it. In front S ae Chinese foldmg-screen there was my father, with Mrs Filmore on. hs right hand, and on his Irft-the sl^ bW Sf SC^^^L^" ^^ -' «>« -^^ eyes .Z Tl T r^""^ ^**''°"' ^" """K^* ■"« '°°a " ay father said. . I heard no more, felt no more, till I became conscious that fcf ? te '"**• ^'' ''°°» "» I '''"' thoroughly revived mv father leftthe room, and presently returned, sayinT- w J J'h^" *°.u*'" *^" ^'"^'e" ''°'' y°" "^ Latiif™. They ^pSfrday™""'"- ^-•'allputoffourshopS KSreXh/n"*^- "'*»* ?:°""8 '-^y » B«tha Grant, Mrs. ^more s orphan mece. Filmore has adopted her. and she lives with them, so you will have her for a neighb^ then we go home-perhaps for a near relation, for ttfre^a tn- ^tafied by the match, since Filmore meSnTto provide for he^ to methat you knew nothing about her living withZ^i, at arm*o»«n.*^" !^T" *° "^^ *""* °* ""y ha^8 fainted at the moment of seeing her, and I would not for the world have told him the reason : I shrank from the idea of disclls" ne Z!LfL ^^'"^traying it to my father, who would have suspected my sanity ever after my experience. I have desonbed these two cases at length, THB LIPTID VBIt. u taoauBe they had definite, clearly traceable remilta in my af- I^^l "fZ^^ last ooourrenc^I think the very next day to w^STf .rr °^. " P^"' '" "y '"'»°™'^ sensibiUty, wra others smce my dlness, I had not been alive bifore. This was the obtrusion on my mind of the mental process goine for- ZeV: ^Z'"'"' P""°' '^^ '"^^ '^'^''- 'it'' whom I W Zt of "" °°°*"'"-' *" ""8^*- ^"^"'o"" id^** and emo- tions of some uninteresting acquaintance-Mrs. Filmore for Sunir"^,' ^"-^ ^'^""•'l-^ o» -y oonsciousne3e t importunate, i l-played musical instmment, or the loud activ- was fitful, and left me moments of rest, when the souls of my companions wore once mor: shut out from me, and I felt a ^^ hef such as silence brings to wearied nerves I might have believed thie importunate insight to be merely T diseased uble^rr/nd^''*'""' ';:.' *?"* "^ p™-^- °^ ^-"- table words and actions proved it to have a fixed relation to the mental process in other minds. But this superadd^^n^ »«.usness, wearying and annoying enough whe^ it urged on teL?n^"anr^TT °' ^'^*'"°' P~Pl«^ •^ame'an i^ souls of those who were m a close relation to me-^hen the rational taU^ the graceful attentions, the wi^y tTmel phrases and the kindly deeds, which used to make the web of their characters, were seen as if thrust asunder by a Ticr^! ZT ^'"'»^*'«'^'■l'°we at'^Senevt'had often asked me to sit to them, and I had been the modd of a dymg mmstrel in a fancy picture. But I thoroughly riikel ^11 ■'I 4 14 THB LIFTED VEIL. my omphytijue, and nothing but the belief th.* if _ dition of poetio genius wt«,u\VZ. .. , '* *■• » «»- brief hopTwa. aurto^.H A '^^"'^^ me to it.^ That suffering-lMfe for tL, "T"**'""' '"™«<* '" !«««•*'« duotion iSsi f^„ .^^ T^r! ^'^^^'"> of poetiTpro- Beparated.tKhorh^'^^sent'^LJrf f "^ '"""'^^'y pearanoe came before mVag a ™rf!,^..^! "~**' ""* "P" being extremely friendly a^d b»^«^. w *"' ""^ '"^^ °° superficial kindaesg of a ?^ T^ ^' *° "*• ^^ ^«d the that fears no rS Lh t*^'^""""^ self-satisfied nature, am noTTureSVdl^'"^*''''''""**'^^ ""contrarieties, l have be«n';tn^a°";„*;7J-^<^ -ughfo, ""^ ^ sires had not clashed, and if tY,?^-^' "'''" "* *"" Re- condition wh^ch^tTof ine^us^fi'5 ^^^ '""^'^^ ""^"^ oonstruotion. There ml^L^ W r' ""^ '*'^*«"« between our natures. A. u J?^^l T '^^ *" antipathy aa object of intens^ ha^VtoTe L^/ ^ ' '!"-*' «X)n., still more when he sMkHt ^ ^ ^^ *'°'*"^ «"> grating metal had set mv Sh '„i L " ."f '^ '^'^**°° °f sciousness was more in2,!!f* a *^^- ^^ "J^««««d •»»- bis thoughts anremotiot't wirH^""-»y "^^'^ '">■ son who came in my wav T w? ?T °* ""^ °*« P«- the petty promSs o/kis 000™^^.*^"? exasperated with with his ^lf-com,fl;ttl^f"S ^i.^p^°^t °* P**~°''8«' him, Witt his half-p.tyiagc^nt^„tf^''<^'»°'''' P""""" f"' oMinaryindications'ofrtSrLlpWrdaM ^.''•' which an acute and aniinio,v,„- • j f ""** *"<• slight action, in all their nakedrkir;'::rpirtL" "^ "•" ""^"^ ^'»' ""' not^:;:::;Tt."?,vrs„7„f-!- "•-••h though he was Grant produced in me onTn™ * ^** "^ ""^ "^f^* ^e^ha was chi^efly determin^I'JX Z^T'^'^- ^'^^ «*f~' oeption, among all ^tSS Sut me'f *"' ""^ ^^• gift of insight. About R«X r , *' *" "^ uabappy certainty: I could w^toh^^f^ ""^ '^'"^^ ^ "^ «*»*» "^ '^- late on fts mil ItJd «^TT °* ^"^*""'' '"^ "P^"" interest of i^r2='e r couUr f 5'' ?'°'°" ^"J" «>« '«"' .orhersmrwirhoird^r----iSS M THE UPTEO VML. jj impressive scenes, inclined to disseT^riTJ •.* """ and espeoiaUy contemptuous tow^l^o-^ "T*? ^'^^ were my pet literature at tL^^e To t^,*" '""' ''^'•"' unable to define my feeling towZh J i. '"°"""" ^ "^ boyish admiration, for sh7wM thf v« V '"". """ °'^^'^ color of her hair, of the idT^ -. ^e^T opposite, even to the me the type TtoveliTeL I^/ k"*" "^ '*^ '«"'»^««' that enthu- Her strongest foZlZ^^^^^'^'^^^ZTy,"' ""^ T"'"' °' the highest element of chLXV' 'S thtrij^' *" *" more complete than that which a 8el^™nf7^ ^ *y™""y exercises over a morbidly senStive n^:^*'^ "Ts^? "'''»- IX'f of-'/mTKeno^i: T.^^^F^^^^^ opinion-feel an adSn^I^i^g^* 'J^;'^- for his and U beforeT^S^t™/^^^ ^r'' '"""^'^ ^'^^^^ a. if it were the shrine of ^dou^t^ut^f '"fT'" ""''' ruled his deatinv w™ - oouDOuUy benignant deity who ine Uie ^^i nTJ Jl'^rmtrX "^ '°^'°''«- are stirring his own- thev^rv L * v, f * ^n^otions which things, buf they - th^rZy'^'^t cl°d* f oT^^*"' ''' times, m moments of happy hallucinatL H^TIi • .J '°"'^" • be there in aU the greater str^Xw ''? '^''o^*^ they may sign of them. AnfCefflf « . v^"'!-^" "^ "° ""tward ened to its utmost intensitrlr/^'''"'^""'^'*' ^"^ height- being who remained for m[S t^' ^,7' ^''*''1 "" *^« ""^^ that renders such vou^ftT-q^ mysterious seclusion of soul was another sort of fl^f-T" ?"'"'''''• °°"''tless there traction wUrdlStTi^'X,^""'''-'^' ''"''*'« P^^"'''^ «t- with some io„^ «. 6rave f^r^, heavy-he^fedi^tSi"^" ..I '"'I m 16 THBUPTBD VML •nd love MJo PMBion, and witto^a "^ of ' m^ * °' 'J'"^'"*' * P^^^o tMt Bpipit of intriwe wS JL™ "■""" "» •>"' ^'rtha had the brother of ttVm:.''^f J*T« P''l"»"''y to the 'dea that love and jealousy for her w^e Th»^ T*"^ ""' "^^^8 ''*"> brother, ^as what at that «1 t^a ^^ °"'"°' *° "'"O' ">? he was'a«.lduou, i^ ht aftTtiLf t °"? '•"'^'" '°' '^"^^ enough that both h^ Zi *'!*S h^H "'^"^ ^ '^«' """ to this remUt there w^ „^f w ^ "^^^ "P ^^ ""i^ds there had be^n nr^xZi? diw ™''''^*^ engagement- whUe she airteS^a mvh™?f"''°°' "■''lB«rthahabituaUy, in a way thattaiS to h^ .;,.""'* T^*"^ ^" ^'°"»8 intention, aaueTe WiL C t\ wl**' "^P^i^on of Us -ftmini;.e not^g, wwS,H" subtlest looks and phrases her-that he was ^y ^e^w JT,.'* '^"°*"^ '^^ that she thought hiri^ I dM^ u** '^"' «""="'«! h«ve pleasure'lndlsSpltin'^ M?!r*' '',''°'° "^^ "°"" brother's presence, as^iwL . "^"'^ P*^'«d *» "-y b. thought^T^ ^ w . ^ZJ^ y°"^f •»» she patted my onrls ^rtUe I! 7 v. f"«g '"X in whioh Snohoaresseswi^XaZ^J^etLSf "* ""J '""'*«''- for when we were alone Serst ^rtT °' """ *""'"'»* distance toward me and nrwrn'/^^^^t** * "'""'^ 8^t«' by words or XhTalcS^a to ^ f? *^^ ^^^ °PP°rtunity, that she really preft^T'f "^^f"^ "^ *~"'''' '^^ hop her inclination? I wL„T ini j"^ '^'^^ ''"' "°* ^°"°' my brother, but I had fo^« T '^'*"*»8<»"'' » Position as she was, «.d she WM JL tZ:.. tf "°* * ^"^ ^"""Ker than decide f» hei^tf "*"* "*"' ''"'^'l "oon be of age to The fluctuation, of hope and fear, confined to this one THl LUTBD VML. 47 birthday ocouxred, B^i^,ll^Tyl 7'!?°^ ''" *'"°**«*^ •U took the opl^tj^of thT „WiH • °' .r"'"'*^ « jewelry. MinB, naturaUvT«^«T..t ^^ J""^' "' opal ring-the 0Ml3™vT •. * wpewive; it wa« u, when I gave it hep C ^d f hL f ""'■ ^ '"''* ^^« •» nature oha^lTV^S. SL !t '*• "",?" *"""'"' °' «"» P^otio woman's e3 In th. *''^''''«"«>''8 «ght of heaven and of unreapon8ive'it^e^»"^'l°5^7"°^,^,°;'»»«<>«>"omue, hold of a delicate gold oil tEh« .1 """*""'■ *»^8 neck, and drawing out tt?lL* J T*^' '"'" «^d ^ hanring to it ^t CL end from her bosom with my ring with^frral duL;rsmTe,*«"^eLTinlar" t f^ and since your Doeti««l ^.t^ ■ "* '**' "««™* P'aoei oould not Lst mCu t^^ """^ ^ ""^ "'>~^»' 0^^ I w.^d keep the rSwt^^irL'i"' •"'^^^ ««* ■*• might intoxicate myself afresh with fh?*i v. T^^ ""* ^ and all it implied **' *^°"8''* °^ *^» »o«ne 'II u TBI Umji VEIL Jwr huibuid, and now oar 0«man oourier, whoia itNMn of thought nuhed u^ me like • ringing in the e«re not to be got rid o^ though it aUowed my own impultes and idew to continue their uninterrupted ooane. It wm like a pretemat- urauy heightened aenee of hearing, making audible to one a roar of aound where othera find perfect atillneM. The weannesf and disgust of this involuntary intrusion into other iouls was counteracted only by nly ignorance of Bertha, and my growmg passion for her; a passion enormously stimulated. If not produced, by that ignorance. She was my oasis of mystery in the dreary desert of knowledge. J had never al- lowed my diseased condition to betray itself, or to drive me into any unusual speech or action, except once, when, in a mommt of peculiar bitterness against my brother, I had fore- stalled some words Which I knew he was going to utter-a clever observation, which he had prepared beforehand. He had oooasionaUy a slightly affected hesitation in his speech, and when he paused an instant after the second word, myim^ patience Md jealousy Impelled me to continue the speech for bun, as if it were something we had both learned by rote. He ooLwed and looked astonished, as well as annoyed: and the words had no sooner escaped my lips than I felt a shook of alarm lest such an anticipation of words- very far from be- ing words, of course, easy to divine-should have betrayed me as an exceptional being, a sort of quiet energumen, whom every one, Rirtha above all, would shudder at and avoid. But I magnified, as usual, the impression any word or deed of mine could produce on others; for no one gave any sign of having noticed my intierruption as more than a rudeness, to be for- givM me on the score of my feeble nervous condition. WhUe this superadded consciousness of the actual was al- most constant with me, I had never had a recurrence of that distinct prevision which I have described in relation to my first interview with Bertha; and I was waiting with eager curiosity to know whetner or not my vision of Prague would prove to have been an instance of the same kind. A few days after the incident of the opal ring, we were paying one of our frequent visits to the Liohtenberg palace. I could never look at mnv pictttws m sucoesaion; for pictures, when they are at al' TBK Umo VIIL. 19 powerful, tSMt me lo strongly that one or two ezhaoit aU mr oapabUity o< oontempUtion. Thi. morning I hod been look- ing »t Oiorgione'i picture of the oruel-ejed wonum, said to be a hkenuss of Luoreiia Borgia. I had stood 'ong alone before It, fasomated by the terrible reality of that v jining, relenUess face, tiU I felt a strange pmaoned sensation, as if I had long been inhaling a fatal odor, and was just beginning to be con- scious of its effects. Perhaps even then I should not have moved away, if the rest of the party had not returned to this Kxm, and announced that they were going to the Belvedere O^epr to settle a bet which had arisen between my brother and Mr. Filmore about a portrait. I followed them dreamily, and was hardly alive to what oc-rred tUl they had all gone up to the gaUery, leaving me belr , for I refused to come within Mght of another picture that day. I made my way to the Grand Terrace, since it was agreed that we should saunter in the gardens when the dispute had been decided. I had been sitting here a short space, vaguely conscious of trim gardens with a city and green hUls in the distance, when, wishing to avoid the proximity of the sentinel, I rose and walked down tte broad stone steps, intending to seat myself farther on in «ie gardens. Just as I reached the gravel-walk, I felt an arm slipped within mine, and a light hand gently pressing my wnst. In the same instant a strange intoiicadng numbness passed over me, like the continuance or climax of the sensa- tion I was still feeling from the gaze of Luorezia Borgia. The gardens, tiie summer sky, the consciousness 'uld ir^i^ZceTenTorXT "' ''•- ' *^«^' ' proved to have beTn JLToi *S yet VeT °' ^T* STw'atctJjot th ^'^'-jf^'^H *ihr "^r^ S per^tu'aUy oT'S^rSL^i^r'^^ "T* '^«" me your sympathy-yTu who Sth^ T "'"'»''« '°8"<' ots^ttVa^s cLci^irat^ . wSin-i'^ andtrinK?j^rh^:rvr;:„tr h""^\^^^^^ ments inteS U Tw^ TZ. '"if ""'^ v"^" ^'" "«■ ^«« o. .eae ^^Jzi.£^-:X;^^:SZ ,." v.".! " THB LIFTED V»IL. when once they had passed into memory, were mere ideas— pale shadows that beckoned in vain, while my hand was graspedbv the Uvrng and the loved. = -^ ■> In after-days I thought with bitter regret that if I had fore- seen something more or something different— if instead of that hideous vision which poisoned the passion it could not destroy or li even along with it I could have had a foreshadowing of that moment when I looked on my brother's face for the last tune, some softening influence would have been shed over my feelmg toward him: pride and hatred would surely have been subdued mto pity, and the record of those hidden sins would have been shortened. But this is one of the vain thoughts with which we men flatter ourselves. We try to believe that the egoism within us would uave easily been melted, and that It was only the narrowness of our knowledge which hemmed in our generosity, our awe, our human piety, and hindered them from submerging our hard indifference to the sensations and emotions of our fellow. Our tenderness and self-renunci- ation seem strong when our egoism has had its day— when after our mean striving for a triumph that is to be another's loss, the triumph comes suddenly, and we shudder at it. be- cause It is held out by the chill hand of death. Our arrival in Prague happened at night, and I was glad of this, for It seemed like a defei-ring of a terribly deoUive mo- ment, to be in the city for hours without seeing it. As we were not to remain long in Prague but to go on speedily to Dresden, it was proposed that we should drive out the next mommg and take a general view of the place, as well as visit some of Its specially interesting spots, before the heat became oppressive-fbr we were in August, and the season was hot and dry. But it happened that the ladies were rather late at their morning toilet, and to my father's politely repressed but perceptible annoyance, we were not in the carriage till the mornmg was far advanced. I thought with a sense of relief, as we entered the Jews' quarter, where we were to visit the old synagogue, that we should be kept in this flat, shut-up part of the city, until we should aU be too tired and too warm to go farther, and so we should return without seeing more than the streete through which we had already passed. That THE UPTBD VIIL. 33 might pomt to a more shrivelled deaS-in-Se t^lSo^"^ of our pany wished to return to the hotel. BuTnow insS of rejoicing in this, as I had done beforehand, I felt i sud^ overpowering impulse to go on at once toThe bridge Vndp^ an end to the suspense I had been wishing to protrict 1 Z that I L^>,f^ „^*' •'"*"''"' ^ ^'"'^^ !"« "aid angrily thmg-a smaU detail which I remembered with sDecial in- CHAPTEE II. leaves' Z '^TT T. 'I *° '°'^' "^^ ^^^'> *•>« brown InT^ir """'' °" *^* ^^^"^ in o">- park, my brother and Bertha were engaged to earh ort»v ' •? "JJ orotner ouga^en 10 eaos othei, ana it was understood iA ■• THE LIFTBD VBIL. a>at theit niMTiage was to take place early in the next spring. In spite of this certainty I had felt from that moment on the bridge at Prague, that Bertha would one day be my wife, mr constitutiwial timidity and distrust had continued to benumb me, and the words in which I had son imes premeditated a confession of my love had died away .uttered. The same ooDfliot had gone on within me as before-the longing for an assurance of love from Bertha's lips, the dread lest a word of contempt and denial should fall upon me like a corrosive acid. What was the conviction of a distant necessity to me? I trembled under a present glance, I hungered after a present joy, I was clogged and chilled by a present fear. And so the days passed on: I witnessed Bertha's engagement and heard her mamage discussed as if I were under a conscious night- "^^rrf^* '* ^'^ " ^^"^ *^»' ''""W vanish, but feeling stifled under the grasp of hard-clutching fingers Whm I was not in Bertha's presence-and I was with her very often, for she continued to treat me with a playful pat- ronage that wakened no jealousy in my brother-I spent my bme chiefly in wandering, in strolUng, or taking long rides whde the daylight lasted, and then shutting myself up with my unread books; for books had lost the power of chaining my attention. My self-consciousness was heightened to that pitoh of intensity in which our own emotions take the form of a drwna which urges itself imperatively on our contempla- tion, and we begin to weep, less under the sense of our suffer- mg than at the thought of it. I felt a sort of pitying anguish over the pathos of my own lot : the lot of a being finely organized for pam, but with hardly any fires that responded to pleasure -to whom the Idea of future evil robbed the present of its joy, and for whom the idea of future good did not still the uneasineM of a present yearning or a present dread. I went dumbly through that stage of the poet's suffering, in which he feels the delicious pang of utterance, and makes an image of his sorrows. ^ I was left entirely without remonstrance concerning thia tT^'Jrrr^Tf .^"= ^ ^^"^ '^y f""*"'" thought about me. That lad will never be good for anythbg in life: he may waste his years in an insignificant way on the income THE LIFTRD VEIL. 20 I shall not trouble myself about a career for that falls to him: him." pe2't^'\wr'r*J°'''' »»8^i"8of November, it hap- aJcS^:!fi?!Cf,'° - -/ ^« Of compassion- fi,= >, J '' ^°^^ * P«y It IS you don't have a run with wS."°"'°'*'^°' Thefinestthing inthe'rid'S "Low spiritsi » I thought bitterly, as he rode awav "rt.t "o^/t^rt^o dtrbe"'"' '''"' ~^«' -^wTa^^s T^ ^"e t£^ yo^r hS^i3™ °' r'"^ r "^ "-"^ - «ood Of thi^ZrlSls^-^y JuCtX^-J^tr good-tempered oonceit-these are the ke^s to happiness "' stTlT'' v°"?''* '^'^ «"»* n,y selfishnerZ even Si Sgi-**C r^ " ""^"-^ selfishnessts^Z t*"br^F"--^^^^^^^^ iTpL'^^^t^t^S •* '^"'^ ^ *--"- •'^ ^^ ^-^ ^ Mr. Pilmore's house lay not more than half a mile bevond ^th? f *<"' '^'i7''«°«-«- I knew my brother w^ gone ij Bertha at home. Later on in the day I walked thJH ■>, b*^ a rare accident she was alone, an7Je^ll''^S^ Z !i^l ill *' THE UPTBD VIIL. pound, together, for ghe seldom went on foot beyond tin sylph she looked to me a. the low November sun riioneTa usual hgbt banter, to which I Ustened half fondly, half mood- m«L J" "^^i^* "«" Bertha's mysterious inner self^r r T K 7*1 ^'^^^ ^'^^ *^« moodiness predominatid K f;* ""? r* '^*" "^f t^^o "«»«« ot jealous hate S my brother had raised in me by his parting patron^T Sud ly . Bertha, how can you love Alfred? " She looked at me with surprise for a moment, but soon her light smile came again, and she answered sarcastically -^h* do you suppose I love him? " j' • vyny " How can you ask that, Bertha? " t^ " ^' ^T "^^"^ *^^« ^ """»' Jo^e the man I'm goine to marry? The most unpleasant thing in the world. I sS quarrel with him; I should be jealo^ of him; our S wo,Ud be conducted in a very ill-bred manner. A littlTZe contempt contributes greatly to the elegance of life » in i^^ ?** •" °°* ^^."^ ^'^^«- "^^7 d° y"" delight m tormgto deceive me by inventing such cynical speeches?" I need never take the trouble of invention in o^er to de- ceive you, my small Tasso "-(that was the mocking name she teffmrt^S;.' '"' '^'^ "^^ *» ^-'- "^ P-* ^ - She was testing a,e validity of her epigram in a daring way, and for a moment the shadow of my vision-the Bertha whose soul was no secret to me-passed between me and the radiant girl, the playful ^Iph whose feelings were a fascinating mys- tery. I suppose I must have shuddered, or betrayed in some otHer way my momentary chill of horror. " Tasso! "she said, seizing my wrist, ^d peeping round in- to my face, "are you reaUy beginning to discern what a heart- less girl I am? Why, you are not half the poet I thought you were; you are actually capable of believing the truth about me." The shadow passed from between us, and was no longer the object nearest to me. The girl *aose light fingers ™d me, whose elfish charming face cooked into mine-who I THBLIFTKDTIIL. 27 enoe again posseamH m^. 'T^' warm-breathing pres- ing <^TJ^i7^Z"'^ iinagination like a^tum- ^ the roar oflii^.*^^ TC ""^ '*" "" '""*-' oions to me as the wakin/„rj. ^" * °"*°'*"" »» "Jeli- a dream of mid^e I«e I Ll? "°"»«r.''"««' «* yo"th after and said with ewLXg ^S ■*"* *^""^^8 ''"* "-^ P-^won, Her look of astoniThmtf I ?" ""^^ *°' " ^^^ '^tUe." . Ah, Tasso's mad fit has come on I see " «h« quietly, for she had recovered W«i'/ ' ^ answered «Lethimgohomeand^rM,h.T i-'^T ""^ ^ ^<^- the sun is setting." ^ ^"^ "^^^ ^ """* 8° i°. for a suspicion of my abno™»T °f ,*^"°' "''«''* "««« ^ ^er which' of all tS,' °^ir"1Ld°L''M"-.t ^""P'"'- ashamed of the app„entCfness I W '^''"^.*! f"*' ^ was them to my brother's be^rS wif e I w^f^^f ."^ ""^^^ ly, entering our nark thrnncTl ■ . ''a^dered home slow- lodges. As I^DD™lh.Tf! t^"'"'* 8**« ^^'^ad of by the accident^pp^e" S home? "^v '"T *^" P"''' Had any my father's Wl^t„,°T ■ °' ^^'^^P" '' '"» °°ly o^ of he^loS^hLr T^!^,^"='"T ^"'^d'' that required this any distinct m;tiy^tof±'' ^ ^"'"'^r'^ ""^ ?=«=« ^ithont dwell on theCn?! founTtl, "t*''* ^°"^«- ^ ''>" ""t had been pitched from tA ''• .^^ ^™''''« ^^s dead- ooncussion'^Jf the btat "'"' "^^ "^""^ ""^ «>« "P"* ^-^ » shunned my father nwJA, °* "^'^ ^^P^"- I had for ..he radfcal ijprr,^trn"'o.rn:tr "" T*"" ''°"'«' r .. uoiween o.j natures made my insight ■i ^' I f " THK LIFTBD YBIL. into his inner self a constant aiBiotion to me. But now, as I went up to him, and stood beside him in sad silence, lielt the presence of a new element that blended us as we had never been blent before. My father had been one of the most suo- oeesfu men in the money-getting world: he had had no senti- mental sufferings, no illness. The heaviest trouble that had befallen him was the death of his first wile. But h« married my mother soon after; and I remember he seemed exactly the same, t» my keen chUdish observation, the week after her death as before. But now, at last, a sorrow had come-the sorrow of old age, which suffers the more from the crushing of Its pride and its hopes, in proportion as the pride and hope are narrow and prosaic. His son was to have been married soon— would probably have stood for the borough at the next election. That son's existence was the best motive that could be alle^d for making new purchases of land every year to round off the estats. It U a dreary thing to live on doing the same thmgs year after year, without knowing why we do them. Perhaps the tragedy of disappointed youth and ^as- ^dUnesI ^'*~"'' **"" *** ^"^^ °^ disappointed age and As I saw into the desolation of my father's heart, I felt a movement of deep pity toward him, which was tiie beginning of a new affection-an affection that grew and strengthened m spite of Uie strange bitterness with which he regarded me in the first montii or two after my brother's death. If it had not been for the softening influence of my compassion for him — the first deep compassion I ever had felt— I should have b^n stung by the perception that my father ta^nsferred the mhent^ce of an eldest son to me with a mortified sense that fate had compelled him to the unwelcome course of oaring for me as an important being. It was only in spite of himself that he began to think of m ,ith anxious regard. There is hardly any neglected child for whom death has made vacant a more favored place, who will not understand what I mean (gradually, however, my new deference to his wishes, the effect of that patience which was bom of my pity for him, won upon his affection, and he began to please himself with the endeavor to make me fill my brother's place as fully as my THE LUTED VEU, husband wm welcome to him and L^ '^°"""8 Bertha', "■yoaaewhathe had not intend^^^fr Tf "'?'*'*"* ^ «on »nd daughter-in-law should m.t ""^ ^rother'^that hi» My softened feeling t^wid 1,^^^' °°" ^°'"'^°''» ''■'h Wu> wh.ch I retained the delicious iCioT'^r? ^"' '""""'^ i" lougmg and doubting and honini tW l °"'°* B«^'^«. o* She behaved with a cert^ n^^* ** ^^^ ""'K*" love me. toward me after my b™S's dearT^r *"'' '"»'-'"» double oonstraint-ttat of Li .' ""^ ^ too was under a 07, and of anxiety ^"toLtt^^ '"""'' ""^ ""«•"'" ""^ left on her mind."" But the aSnT '"^ '''""P* '""l" ^ sem erected between u, oX £^1'^^^° '^^ "-"tual re- der her power: no matter how emi' T T" «'"'Pl«'«ly un- i;e.l be thick enough. So ab^olu^^^ " '^^*™' »» th"' the th^g hidden and LcerSu ft 2 »»".'""^''' °^ °' «»"«- «^d hope and effort wS ar^ S« ^o^tonance of that doubt the whole future were l^d Ko u^"^ *1 '*" ^"^ «•"* if torest of all mankind wouhi Z^b^nt"'^""^ *°'^y- «"« ^■ t^wn i we should pant after th! ,v^^ - "?^ ^°"™ *^t lie be- -8 and our one Cit^e^Cd""'"?'/"""*'"""™- Ixchange for our last possibil^„^ f"''' *«™«ly to the disappointment; we sWd W T^"°"' °f success, o? fo^telling a crisis or a ^^cS ^^.f ' f P<"itioal propheL hours left open to prophL CoI,!?-"' ^.' ""'^ twentyV human mind if aUproSons wE ^' °°"''''^°° °* ^^^ except one, which wm to b^me!«lf^r' "^^ self-evident summer's day, but in tte m^Jme J-'^t^*.'* ""« "^o^* °* a question of hypothesis, of S^-Cte A^fn ^•,"'* ""^J^* o* »ture and science, would fasten Tib. t ^ Pl-Josophy, liter- ^on which had the hJ/Zro^^nt"" °> *^^ ""^ P"'!""" wger because their enjoyment wm,^^^ . '*' '^'^ ''^ ""« '"o™ ■apulses, our spiritual aSj ^"'^ ""'' ^^''t. Our , to the idea of fheir futu« nIuL°°.r'\'^^ ^rtna, the slim, fair-haired ^i^' ^1 -•, wd the n««>w roon. of thU ^;^t L^""""^' ^ "' »>1 ««««» mere negation where I had Mgh W to^h!,'***^. '"^'^ "'^ bUitie. and in wit at ww witt Wt l.r "^' '" '^^ '^^' floating vanitie. of the rir' defin^n» tl, ""f ""'^ '''•' "«^>' t«natic coquet^, the .cttl^Lter ofV*" ""' 'y'" saw repulsion anH ant;r^.n. Z """""MSi of the woman— p.u>on%rthrsrorwfeXitiu ""*' '■•"•^' •^^^« ui^^ ^ SvS-tJif .^iK-- °^ -^^ her would make me her shivT .^H Tw f" » P*"'"" for shojild execute her wiU b ^' ^i^'^'^^'^^ ''"^. ] shallowness of a n««>H„<. „ ■ ."*«"• ">"» the essential able , oZeiye thXm^r°"^v ''• °»*""' »'''' "« "^ than weakne,.^.*''8hrh^^rt mv"' T"* "^'"'"^ •'•« me in her power and .h« * „ ^' .v ^ ^«^°eMe» would put Our po.itiorw^'°lSU'°"12? '^•"•«««We fo JL. Pletely mastered my SatiofS^Z"™" '^' "^ •»»■ and I created the un W^^™,'Jf w " ' "*"* *° ""J a. if it were hers. Burnow Z he^^l w.t'S '^""''''^ me, now that I wa. compelled to swTh ""^ "^ ** motives, to foUow all i^Z^A- ^^ ^'^"""'^ "* J*" words and acts, The loSd he^f ^^^u*^' -fr^^ ^« to produce in me the chill sh^^^r''*'? V^ ""> «««?» because I could be act^Jt ^no wSV^'f "'' was dead to worldly ambttinn. * " 7 ^" ''*'" "^b. I incentives within Z ^paZ^f L'^''' ""'''««' *° "^J tbe I W uuder influencrudl'iS^^r ^"°^ ""^ who smiled on mom^g oX" ™«^ Z"""*" "^^ ^'«». -d was capab. ^t^Z' ^^JJ^^^Z'^,'^'-"^^' woman, is aooepoed as wif ».. "^Partee which, from snoh a aome suspected, or^^k-brainel^ ri\:'trrt; ^o^^ Mi I if.* i "* TOT UFTID VllL. hoiii. g.Te her the W«,o« of J„lr regwd and pity R,, tk.« w.« no .udible quarrels betw«in u.^our UieSS^n our hewta and if the mUtresi went out • great deal and neZd for th w olM, of men and women are but .lightly determined in their eetunaf^ of other, by generU oon.iderationroTev^ «p. nenoe, of character. They judge of p,r.on. a, they juZ of come, and va^ue thoee who paes ourrenfat a high rate "^ After a time I interfered .o little with Be-^ha'. haW^ that it might .eem wonderful how her hatred toward me oo^l grow so intent and active as it did But shl^^^ ♦ juspe., by some involuntary betr.Jal.*of'mt'"A"e« WM w abnormal power of penetration in me_that fitf uUv H r^ '- »t»"gely cognizant of her thoughta ^d bin tions, and she began to be haunted by a terror of me whi«h alternated every now and then with deZ^ &?• u;iSLt continually how the incubus could be shak^ off her Itft^^w .he could be freed from this hatefulTn^ toa^Lt;;^^ Sr Xl ir'llr r '?'*^"' '"•1 dreaded as^a^i;i°,^ tor. For a long while she lived in the hope that my oT^demt J^tchedness would drive m. to the oomrission rf sS- made our alienation evident to the world. WhyshouldlrLh for help to a new course, when I was only suffering from^e ^r tLTwIuM r'"^' "^^"^ *''• act of m^yiS r^atSTLTfi^^^a-esr^'^rrrthrr/^^^^ That course of our life which I have indicated in a few .en- TOT LUTID VBIL. 35 t«DOM flUad the iiMoe of v..^ » «.d hideou. a^t^of lSa„^..°""* "i!"^-^ *'*"' into EMntencI *^ • f^ *"" *'"' ""^ »* oompregMd their fcUow^o^ and t.r^'f.n!'"'"^' '^" "P""-"* "t OVT the tempution. ^eriJ^TiXelX^'!:^''?" Seven yean of wretohedne.. glide riThW T. ^ P«^">te,. n>»n who hai never counted th.n.„ ? • ^ " "*• "P» "^ <*• •ppointment olZA2ft^^V li.^ '°°""'°'* °* "hill die- "^^:tXhSi^^^^^^^ "•■ t*nWe£:S----/a^Tt^ appeared at the door, with a candled w v. ^T^"" ^'"'» toward me. I knew Z h^J^ v ^^' "^ advanced ball-dre«i, with tte ^^ je'^'itTon. * ''•\°"-«'« '^ite the wax candle whichr„^'S.?;2alUo„Tthf T' "«^? °' patra on the mantelpiece m7Slr^ ""* "^y'"* ^'•°- going out? I hTno^r, ZZ tt 1 v" '^°"' .*° "■" '**°"' habitu^ place, fortonTs.' my'^L ir.'ta'ndt7" "^ with the candle in her hand. wM. T., „ ^ ^°" "« eyes fixed on me. and the riinli cruel contemptuous demon, on her bJe^f? Fo?,^ ^ ^T^^ "■""» '-^i""^ my fate, It r»w niTir^l.Tmi'd'^.'""'' ^ before me, except soom W^. 1 r^ '°^' ^ »''« "t^d with wh^ch I fat^f^re W "fLT".'''^^^ "'"'^ you kill yourself then?" fLi ' ' ^°°^ l^'^ "hy don't length her th"ughta reLte^t T ^" ?'"'«'''• ^"' »' I have had to hire a new maid. Fletcher is going to b. '^ ]i S6 ■fe^- THE LUTED VEIL. married, and she wants me to ask you to let her husband havs the publio-house and farm at Molten. I wish him to have it. You must give the promise now, because Fletcher is going to^ morrow morning— and quickly, because I'm in a hurry." "Very well; you may promise her," I said indifferenUy and Bertha swept out of the library again. ' I always shrank from the sight of a new person, and all the more when it was a person whose mental life was likely to weary my reluctant insight with worldly ignorant triviali- ties. But I shrank espeoiaUy from the sight of this new maid, because her advent had been announced to me at a moment to which I could not cease to attach some fatality: I had a vague dread that I should find her mixed up with the dreary drama of my life— that some new sickening vision would reveal her to me as an evil genius. When at last I did unavoidably meet her, the vague dread was changed into definite disgust. She was a tall, wiry, dark-eyed woman, this Mrs. Archer, with a face handsome enough to give her coarse hard nature the odious finish of bold, self-confident coquetry. That was enough to make me avoid her, quite apart from the contempt- uous feeling with which she contemplated me. I sddom saw her; but I perceived that she rapidly became a favorite with her mistress, and, after the lapse of eight or nine months, I began to be aware that there had arisen in Bertha's mind toward this woman a mingled feeling of fear and dependence and that this feeling was associated with ill-defined imagss of candle-Ught scenes in her dressing-room, and the looking-np of something -in Bertha's cabinet. My interviews with my wife had become so brief and so rarely solitary, that I had no opportunity of perceiving these images in her mind with more defimteness. The recollections of the past became contracted in the rapidity of thought tUl they sometimes I.ear hardly a more distinct resemblance to the external rea'ity than the forms of an oriental alphabet to the objects that s..-«eBted them. Besides, for the last year or more a modification had beer g(Wig forward in my mental condition, and was growing more and mors marked. My insight into the minds of those around me was becoming dimmer and more fitful, and the idns that THE UFTBi; JTBIL. 37 of others eould^affrtte B„r«? '^.*t"°°" '^1 projecte of external scenes. It was as if 7kI 1 {"*" ^ » Prevision my fellow-men was more^d morl^ ''i""? '^*''^» ""> "^d to what we call the i^^Zte Z T"*' "^^ "^ ''^^o'^ The more I Uved apa^fromlre^ Zf""'^ '"*'' ""^ '"«• wretchedness subsided from tT^^nTLoh''^^"^'"" -^ ""^ s.on into the dubess of habitull nafnt^ '' °* T'""'^ ?=* vmd became such visions Tt^Tl^Tr f'^'^'"^' "«<» atrange cities, of sandy plains^ J ^ ** °^ ^rague-of Bkies with strange bright "2teLr*^™^''' "* ""i^night of grassy nooks flecked witTtle^tr °* '^'T'^^-V'^k the boughs: I was in the mid^t of !^^°°" '"^^^^ *^™"8h them one presence seemed to wli^h ont "^""^i '^^d in all of ehapes-the presence of ^meCtu^LZ^J^ v?' "''8^'7 continual suffering had annihn^fT , ""* P'"^«™- ^or to the utterly misfrabll!^?^i^^f«7«/ -ithin me: w no religion po«,ible, no WMshrL?^ the unloved-there And beyond aT these «,! ^^i? n * ''""^'P °^ devils. vi«ionofmydeath-repXs.CSr°"^' "■" '^o g^ when life would be S^ atT^r*"""' *"' '"' ^«- I SZomTentSrS rm*'** ^1 "' ""^ --«" y- cognizance Of any^erl^ns^^ '*^^ ^^'^ «y abn? talk which is custorii^tftwS, a^..h ^**?'y«t famili^ « polite and irrevocaWe Stion T^ "u^ '^'' "^^ """ tp'* '/I ft I 88 9.- w'' THE LUTED VEIL. .,«lp Si', and the expression of her face— something too snbtle to ex- press itself in words or tones, but giving one the idea that she lived in a state of expectation or hopeful suspense. Hy chief feeling was satisfaction that her inner self was once more shut out from me; and I almost revelled for the moment in the absent melancholy that made me answer her at cross purposes, and betray utter ignorance of what she had been saying. I remember well the look and the smile with which she one day said, after a mistake of this kind on my part : " I used to think you were a clairvoyant, and that was the reason why you were so bitter against other clairvoyants, wanting to keep your monopoly ; but I see now you have become rather duller than the rest of the world," I said nothing in reply. It occurred to me that her recent obtrusion of herself upon me might have been prompted by the wish to test my powe. of detecting some of her secrets ; but I let the thought drop again at once : her motives and her deeds had no interest for me, and whatever pleasures she might be seeking, I had no wish to balk her. There was still pity in my soul for every living thing, and Bertha was living — was surrounded with possibilities of misery. Just at this time there occurred an event which roused me somewhat from my inertia, and gave me an interest in the passing moment that I had thought impossible for me. It was a visit from Charles Meunier, who had written me word that he was coming to England for relaxation from too strenu- ous labor, and would like to see me. Meunier had now a European reputation ; but his letter to me expressed that keen remembrance of an early regard, an early debt of sympathy, which is inseparable from nobility of character : and I, too, felt as if his presence would be to me like a transient resurrection into a happier pre-existence. He came, and as far as possible I renewed our old pleasure of making tete-a-tete excursions, though, instead of mountains and glaciers and the wide blue lake, we had to content our- selves with mere slopes and ponds and artificial plantations. The years had changed us both, but with what different re- sult i Meunier was now a brilliant figure in society, to whom elegant women pretended to listen, and whose acquaintance THE LIFTED VEIL. jj which I assure hemusthavSiv^Jf^'™''*^ of the shook a desire to penetrate into my oo^L„ ^h"" °"' ""««"& « of sought by the utmost ezertfon of ^^0^. ''^'"^'^•^», and to make our reunion agreeable ^rtht "« '""'^ P"''"™ the unexpected fascinations of a vi.!^."" """'^ "^^"^ ^7 to find presentable only on the slo '^ft'''" '^ ^^^^ «P««t«^ forth all her coquetries and accomri, ? ""'"''"'y' '«^<>^ ^er the sudden severe^ess of W Tir''' ^"' ^'O"* was reserved to this moment the ml "^i ""• ^"^^'^ I have had forced itself onr;noticeroS w' ''^='-»<^- which ■jamely, that there had be™ J„. ^ ?''f Meunier's arrival, «>is maid, ,pp„,„4'^,^--q^ between Bertha an'd -^>eh .he had ac««.panie/ hV^-L^,:. ""Itl ^^^ i! :^:i- 1 m^muwm^u I I tl.i I ' J 40 THE LUTED VEIL. Archer speaking in a tone of bitter insolence, which I should have thought an adequate reason for immediate dismissal. No dismissal foUowed; on the contrary, Bertha seemed to be silently putting up with personal inconveniences from the ex- hibitions of this woman's temper. I was the more astonished to observe that her ilhiess seemed a cause of strong solicitude to Bertha; that she was at the bedside night and day, and would allow no one else to officiate as head nurse. It hap- pened that our family doctor was out on a holiday, an acci- dent which made Meunier's presence in the house doubly welcome, and he apparentiy entered into the case with an in- terest which seemed so much stronger than the ordinary pro- fessional feeling, that one day when he had fallen into a long fit of silence after visiting her, I said to him,— " Is this a very peculiar case of disease, Meunier? " "No," he answered, "it is an attack of peritonitis, which will be fatal, but which does not differ physically from many other cases that have come under my observation. But I'll tell you what I have on my mind. I want to make an experi- ment on this woman, if you will give me permission. It can do her no harm— will give her no pain— for I shall not make it until life is extinct to all purposes of sensation. I want to try the efEeot of transfusing blood into her arteries after the heart has ceased to beat for some minutes. I have tried the experiment again and again with animals that have died of this disease, with astounding restdts, and I want to try it on a human subject. I have the small tubes necessary, in a case I have with me, and the rest of the apparatus could be pre- pared readily. I should use my own blood— take it from my own arm. This woman won't live through the night, I'm convinced, and I want you to promise me your assistance in mdting the experiment. I can't do without another hand, but it would perhape not be well to call in a medical assistant from among your provincial doctors. A disagreeable foolish version of the thing might get abroad." " Have you spoken to my wife, on the subject? " I said, "because she appears to be peculiarly sensitive about this woman: she has been a favorite maid." ■ "To teU y, ,.\ Tv'*.'^'^'^ '"'* "y ™'8ht should return, and I should be obliged to see what had been breeding about two unloving women's hearts. I felt that Bertha had been wat»h- THB UPTBD VEIL. 43 ^L'^^b" """"*"' "' '^'^'*' " '>" sealing of her wowt- I thanked Heaven .o could remain sealed for me fuU ''recStrorT).'' "'"' "'" ''''''' °P«°' ""^ -"^t J>«" in ^^3:rtSd^:ft:^.t--jl:^--s now?; " ^'^ "^' ^'^^^""^ • • • -« y'>'' ""^ The lips continued to murmur, but the sounds were no f Wf^mii^ u THE LIFTED VEIL. longer dwtmot Soon there wu no wmnd— onlj « aUgkt movement: the flune had leaped out, and waa beiag extin- guiahed the falter. The wretched woman's heart-stringi had been set to hatred and rengeanoe; the epirit of life had awept tte chorda for an instant, and was gone again forever. Great QodI Is this what it is to live again ... to wake up with our nnstiUed thirst upon us, with our unuttered curses rising to our lips, with our muscles ready to act out their half- committed sins? Bertha stood pale at the foot of the bed, quivering and helpless, despairing of devices, like a cunning animal whose hiding-places are surrounded by swift-advancing flame. Even Meunier looked paralyzed; Ufe for that moment ceased to be a scientific problem *o him. As for me, this scene seemed of one texture with the rest of my existence: horror was my familiar, and this new revelation was only like an old pain recurring with new circumstances. Since then Bertha and I have lived apart— she in her own neighborhood, the mistress of half our wealth ; I as a wanderer in foreign countries, until I came to this Devonshire nest to die. Bertha lives pitied and admired; for what had I against that charming woman, whom every one but myself co»Ud have been happy with? There had been no witness of the scene in the dying room except Meunier, and while Meunier lived his lips were sealed by a promise to me. Once or twice, weary of wandering, I rested in a favorite spot, and my heart went out toward the men and women and children whose faces were becoming familiar to me: but I was driven away again in tenor at the approach of my old insight— driven away to live cantiuually with the one Un- known Presence revealed and yet hidden by the moving cur- tain of the earth and sky. Till at last disease took hold of me and forced me to rest here— forced me to live in depen- dence on my servants. And then the curse of insight— of my double consciousness, came again, and has never left me. I know all their narrow thon^ts, their feeUe regard, their hall-wearied pity. 7?s^*ii.ip^.5^rim-j^, rHHLIPTBD VHL. 45 I havi »«, tt.t;rt^i,'J'i,rit dZ''^'"J"''"^^^^^^ when the «,ene of myX X^l. T'™'*'^ *^''"' me. . . . ^ ' * struggle has opened upon (1869.) " «in> o» THB Lirrao TKL, ^-„.ai^.*._ -_ J-iT'-'Nll BROTHER JACOB. "Trompeun, c'm pour row qua j'ten. Attmdei vou» t u puwito. •' -Li roKimci. CHAPTEB I. I have knoTO a rnm^o LZT ^ .^ .* "^'"^ ambition? trine of the Inc^n^ivable ZTu' P."*"" "^^^"^ ^" '^'»- lessons, because hS^his b^d btTbe^'" T '"'T"*" TOHld not have found him in .„ '^ k ' ',"■- '^^^^P'T^i^ -i^ ■-7 ]!%A * BROTHER JACOB. tionery busineM. Hii uncle, the butler at the gre»t houM oloae by Brigford, had made a pet of him in hii early boy- hood, and it was on a visit to this uncle that the confectioners' shops in that brilliant town had, on a single day, fired his tender imagination. He carried home the pleasing illusion that a confectioner must be at once the happiest and the fore- most of men, since the things he made were not only the most beautiful to behold, but the very best eating, and such as the Lord Mayor must always order largely for his private recrea- tion; 80 that when his father declared he must be put to a tnde, David chose liis line without a moment's hesitation; and, with a rashness inspired by a sweet tooth, wedded him- self irrevocably to confectionery. Soon, however, the tooth lost lU relish and fell into blank indifference; and all the while his mind expanded, his ambition took new shapes which could hardly bo satisfied within the sphere his youthful ardor had chosen. But what was he to do? He was a young man of much mental activity, and, above all, gifted with a spirit of contrivance; but then, his faculties would not tell with great effect in any other medium than that of candied sugars, conserves, and pastry. Say what you will about the identity of the reasoning process in all branches of thought, or about the advantage of coming to subjects with a '—h mind, the adjustment of butter to flour, and of heat to past. , IB no« the best preparation for the office of prime minister; besides, in the present imperfectly organized state of society, there are social barriers. David could invent delightful things in the way of drop-cakes, and he had the widest views of the sugar department; but in other directions he certainly felt hampered by the want of knowledge and practical skiU; and the world is so inconveniently constituted, that the vague con- sciousness of being a fine fellow is no guaranty of success in any line of business. This difficulty pressed with some severity on Mr. David Faux, even before his apprenticeship was ended. His soul sweUed with an impatient sense that he ought to become some- thing very remarkable— that it was quite out of the question for him to put up with a narrow lot as other men did- hs scorned the idea that he could accept an average. He was _r- 4sa. . BROTHKH JACOB. j M Jnn. iibbito, the washerwoman. DanwimH If .„j u r; h»d • preference for his linen At »^i? V^^ P'o^ably would certainly ha.e S" l^at^rfr "C^Un re new»i but his eduoaUon had not been li^r.1 w^^ 1 plaTei,nhS'l"''''''r'T'''«'y"PP'~'''«''* <" comfolbly search of a country where a vonL !- « «n°''«dge, in witn a little money from his master's till Ri,t fh.* ! -T St:?rirr:!r.'^°«' ' - --^-S hrbetVu ; ^.^n?hlvSd^en"/'r'°°'^*'°"''"'°°- I>«-idwould ^Ms^cSl^fhe^r'bTntreriL^^^^^^^^^^^ ^eCinitru^i^i^i-r-*^""^ ^"^^^^^^^^ riS;;Lit^;j-rir^^^^^^^^ - °d^- p-^^S^;SS-^^^«'SdZt^! ii f'*! • BROTEER JACOB. itanoes under which he carried it out were in thia wise. Hav- mg been at home a week or two partaking of the family beans, he had used his leisure in ascertaining a fact which was of oonsiderable importance to him, namely, that his mother had a small sum in guineas painfully saved from her maiden per- quisites, and kept in the corner of a drawer where her baby- linen had reposed for the last twenty years-ever since her son David had taken to his feet, with a slight promise of bow- legs which had not been altogether unfulfilled. Mr Faux senior, had told his son very frankly, that he must not look to bemg set up in business by him.- with seven sons, and one of them a very healthy and weU-developed idiot, who con- sumed a dumphng about eight inches in diameter every day It was pretty weU if they got a hundred apiece at his death! Under these circumstances, what was David to do? It was certainly hard that he should take his mother's money: but he saw no other ready means of getting any, and it was not to be expected that a young man of his merit should put un with moonveniences that could be avoided. Besides, it is not robbeiy to take property belonging to your mother : she doesn't prosecute you. And David was very weU behaved to his mother; he comforted her by speaking highly of himself to her, and assurmg her that he never feU into the vices he saw practised by other youths of his own age, and that he was particularly fond of honesty. If hU mother would have given him her twenty guineas as a reward of this noble disposition, he really wonld not have stolen them from her, and it would have been more agreeable to his feelings. Nevertheless, to an active mind like David's, ingenuity is not without its pleasures: it was rather an interesting occupation to become stealthily acquainted with the wards of his mother's simple key (not in the least like Chubb's patent), and to get one that would do Its work equally well; and also to arrange a little drama by which he would escape suspicion, and run no risk of forfeiting the prospective hundred at his father's death, which would be convenient in the improbable case of his Jt making a large fortune in the " Indies." First, he spoke freely of his intention to start shortly for Liverpool and take ship for America; a resolution which cost 3^^ •birwa^'' BROTHER JACOB. 5 his gc»d mother wme pain, for, after Jacob the idiot, there wa3 not one of her sons to whom her heart clung more til to her youngest-bom, David. Next, it appeared to hiL iZ ZZ^. '^' """ "^ «i°8"larly favorable an oppor- ten^TOp !, ^""^''""Kht it must have been kindly in- tended y Providence for such purposes. EspeoiallvthB rt,s!l Way ^ Lent, because Jacob ^ been 0^0^^^ ^f ^t occasional wanderings for the last twodays; and David. 4ke atim.dyo,uigu.an, had a considerable dr^id and K of daf Sn^rl*^ ^ r'"' ^"'' "^ *" ^^^^ °° this Sun- day^moon to decline going to church, on the ground that Sally had been an early flame of his, and, when tiie chwch- goers were at a safe distance, to abstract the guineTfrom tte« wooden box and slip them into a small SnvrbTe- nothmg easier than to call to the cow-boy tiiat he w^ goL and teU hm to keep an eye on the house for fear of sS tramps David thought it would be easy, too, t^ get to a smaU Uiicket and bury his bag in a hole he^had dreadf m^e and covered up under the roots of an old hollow ash; an" he had, m fac^ found the hole without a moment's difflciuT had uncovered it^ and was about gentiy to drop the Ug K when the sound of a large body rusUing towLd hi^ witi «.mettmg like a beUow was such a surprise to D^^dT whit a gentieman gifted with much contrivance, was natorklj o;fy Prepared for what he expected, that instead of droppW the f^'^"e fh ' ''* " '^'^•^^ -''ke it untwist Kmit ^Lf\ ^r ''r"^*' "^"^^ "l"'* "PO-i 1^™. holding the p^tehfork so that the bright smooth prongs we™ a y^d i^ advance of his own body, and about a foot off Dav^dC (A earned friend, to whom I once narrated this histo^oteerved nd iTth ""''' «-f *'''"'' ""^^ ^^-o prongsI^rS rors I irhr.^^ T**" •^' ''"P^ " P^'»"-'^ °' «" ter- rors. I thought tills Idea BO valuable, that I obtained his _^!Pl««t-^Ji^«^ •• BROTHXB JACOB. leave to use it on condition of snppreMing his name. 1 Nerer- theless, David did not entirely lose his presence of mind : for in that case he would have sunk on the earth or started back- *^f '^ Z^V^ '^ ^'P* ^* e"°"d ""1 smUed at Jacob, who nodded his head up and down, and said, "Hoich, Zavyl " in a punfully equivocal manner. David's heart was beating audibly, and if he had had any lips they would have been pale; but his mental activity, instead of being paralyzed, was stunuUted. While he was inwardly praying (he always prayed when he was much frightened),-" Oh, save me this once, and I'U never get into danger again I "—he was thrust- ing hisW into his pocket in search of a box of yeUow lozen- ges, which he had brought with him from Brigford amonR other delicacies of the same portable kind, as a means of ooncilwting proud beauty, and more particularly the beauty of Miss Sarah Lunn. Not one of these delicacies had he ever offered to poor Jacob, for David was not a young man to waste his jujubes and barley-sugar in giving pleasure to peo- ple from whom he expected nothing. But an idiot with equiv- ocal intentions and a pitchfork is as well worth flattering and cajoling as if he were Louis Napoleon. So David, with a promptitude equal to the occasion, drew out his box of yeUow lozenges, lifted the lid, and performed a pantomime with his mouth Mid fingers, which was meant to imply that he was delighted to see his dear brother Jacob, and seized the oppor- tunity of making him a smaU present, which he would find particularly agreeable to the taste. Jacob, yon understand was not an intense idiot, but within a certain limited range knew how to choose the good and reject the evil : he took one lozenge, by way of test, and sucked it as if he had been a philosopher; then, in as great an ecstasy at ite new and com- plex savor as Caliban at the taste of Trineulo's wine, chuckled and stroked this suddenly beneficent brother, and held out his hand for more; for, except in fite of anger, Jacob was not ferocious or needlessly predatory. David's courage half re- himed, and he left (^ praying; pouring a dozen lozenges into Jacob s palm, and trying to look very fond of him. He con- gratulated himself that he had formed the plan of going to see Miss SaUy Lunn this afternoon, and that, as a consequence, BHOTHEH JACOB. ^ dence should be fonder^f hKaL Tjr^' '"^^'^ ^"^■ since he «,<« to be interrupted ^T„ ^.' apprentices, and to any other sort ot^ul 'A'^J^°' "" P«'f«'«'We David thought he sawTe':^.^'^^ faTol*^' - ^« 'i'e. a..".J^\t:;'htit?r£rrE^^ late sounds of gnstatiye cont«T w t ^ "^"K marticu- sign of noticin/Snu^n^? h . ^' ''"^ °°' y«' P^en any his broad riSfttnd on thet '^T*^»''^««»''«hadlaid that position: abso^db &e^LTr '^"ff'^'^y kept it in could only b^ kept ^X^^ ^tS r,:' "^ P"^'**" « ^« the guineas before David Smt^f"**" ^ "'" *° «» was David's best hope of s^e^. ftT \T'' *'''"°' ^hat Jfuineasi it had been pf^ of tT.I, "^^ ^"^^^ "^"^o^'" to be allowed to Zi. TtThl^ /'""°'°° "^'P'^nce as boys in their box on h^^ dts rdtSdr" ""^ ""* "*«« """"^ =ar'---"---^^^^^ tb:r^ir>;sr;j'.ryt"t:rt.r-« -*lse «>mebody 'U come and take 'f^' ^""'-""^^-l^^tel fears. Jacob LTtSe ^^c S^t^f "P"" ^y imaginative necessity for running aw^v w. "^ ''"* "'"' °'' man wishing to lay ffieS..- /J^"' " P'O'^iMg young ating his n.oth,rT^"n^"^S^,^ "T '"^^ "^ "PP^P"" this? But the moS^nt^°5*ro™f k^ '"f " '^'^"""^ '» his right hand to STw off tl„^^ ?!^ Jacob would move Baivd would sweep t^e°L*;''J;f°^ *?« **°.bo-. and then address and swiftaess ^nT^ J^ ''°'® ''•** t^^e "'most them. Ah, noT It'sof „^ immed«tely seat himself „po„ are dealing :uL 2 id t^VelslS i°""j^^' ''^^ '- Jacob's right hand was rivenf^ ,'* ""^""'ated upon. ing, itsuddenlydulhed Z ^^ '''"*«^*°8 ""d throw- y Clutched the guineas as if they had been so J.>i M 8 BROTHER JACOB. many pebbles, and wag raiged in an attitude which prapiised to scatter them like seed over a distant bramble, when, from some prompting or other — probably of an unwonted sensaiion — it paused, descended to Jacob's knee, and opened slowly under the inspection of Jacob's 'dull eyes. David began to pray again, but immediately desisted — another resooroe hav- ing occurred to him. "Mother! zinniesl" exclaimed the innocent Jacob. Then, looking at David, he said, interrogatively, '■ Box? " "Hush I husht" said David, summoning all his ingenuity in this severe strait. "See, Jacob I" He took the tin box from his brother's hand, and emptied it of the lozenges, re- taming half of them to Jacob, but secretly keeping the rest in his own hand. Theh he held out the empty box, and said, "Here's the box, Jacob I The box for the guineas! " gently sweeping them from Jacob's palm into the box. This procedure was not objectionable to Jacob; on the con- trary, the guineas clinked so pleasantly as they fell, that he wished for a repetition of the sound, and seizing the box, began to rattle it very gleefully. David, seizing the oppor- tunity, deposited his reserve of lozenges in the ground and hastily swept some earth over them. "Look, Jacob!" he said at last. Jacob paused from his clinking, and looked into the hole, while David began to scratch away the earth, as if in doubtful expectation. When the lozenges were laid bare, he took them out one by one, and gave them to Jacob. " Hiish ! " he said, in a loud whisper. " Tell nobody — all for Jacob — hush — sh — sh ! Put guineas in the hole — they'll come out like this! " To make the lesson more complete, he took a guinea, and lowering it into the hole, said, "Put in so." Then, as be took the last lozenge out, he said, " Come out so, " and put the lozenge into Jacob's hospitable mouth. Jacob turned his head on one side, looked first at his brother and then at the hole, like a reflective monkey, and, finally, laid the box of guineas in the hole with much decision. David made haste to add every one of the stray coins, put on the lid, and covered it well with earth, saying in his most coaxing tone, — Hush- BBOTHBR JACOB. shllS" '" ""* *°-""»«"'' Jacob, aU for JaoobI he w„ aooustoaed to express ttet^/ '^'^ ^^"''S V which cheek I .vzd would have C^S^' ^^^S'^' brother's And here I must pause TL° 1 * ^^ ''■ ^essof human oonSe^ 'ih 1^™*°-^°" ^''^ «^»'--8ht- David Faux, thought he had aoh evT"?-"^""-*"""' *»• "hen he had associated hS^w -^ v'^ ^ *"™Ph of cunning mmi with the flavor of yeW , '° ^^ •'"'^"''' ^dimentary learn that it is a dreadj tW tomr ^5' '" ''»'' ^c' ^ whenyouyourself are not of 2^,^^*' ? '"^'ot fond of you, ciaUyan idiot with a pitcMorlrjl*!:'""'f*« <«»Position: espel shake off ,y rough usag^ ~°'''^°'"^J' " ""fficult friend to cleve" 'I^n^^rCr "r^"« contrivance fora hadt, -edoutasDavid^dclir..!^- " « everything Uiat his plan was worthy of hf 2^' ^i" /ould ha7e seef have lain safely ir, the earth white lh^f. }" ^^"'' ^"uld and David, with the calniTc^Lo1o„; • "** "^ discovered, Weredathome, reluctant to^ri"^ r^T*' ^""'d hav^ while she was in grief about l^/ ^^ *° ^^ ^^" mother the eve of his depStoe, heto^Yd'iir'"/ *'" " '''^^' °« the strictest privacy, and ca^^i** .^^''' dismterred them in withoutinconvenienlj. ButS vn*"" "" ■'''' "^^ P«'«on without his host, or, to speak ml™ ^"""PT"""' ^^^d reckone-l brother_an item of so unctrin anTr^ "'"'''"' ^'^ ^-^-t that I doubt whether he would" ^1 """'""-""K a character, 10 BROTHER JACOB. out giving notice, and with th« guinau in his pooket Tot it he gave notice that he was going, his mother, he knew, would insist on fetching from her box of guineas the three she had always promised him as his share; indeed, in his original plan, he had counted on this as a means by which the theft would be discovered under circumstances that would them- selves speak for his innocence; but now, as I need hardly explain, that well-combined plan was completely frustrated. Even if David could have bribed Jacob with perpetual lozen- ges, an idiot's secrecy is itself betrayal. He dared not even go to tea at Mr. Lunn's, for in that case he would have lost sight of Jacob, who, in his impatience for the crop of lozenges, might scratch up the box again while he was absent, and carry it home — depriving him at once of reputation and guineas. Not he must think of nothing all the rest of this day but of coaxing Jacob and keeping him out of mischief. It was a fatiguing and anxious evening to David; nevertheless, he dared not go to sleep without tying a piece of string to his thumb and great toe, to secure his frequent waking; for he meant to be up with the first peep of dawn, and be far out of reach before breakfast-time. His father, he thought, would certainly cut him off with a shilling; but what then? Such a striking young man as he would be sure to be well received in the West Indies: in foreign countries there are always open- ings — even for cats. It was probable that some Princess Yarico would want him to marry her, and make him presents of very large jewels beforehand; after which, he needn't marry her unless he liked. David had made up his mind not to steal any more, even from people who were fond of him: it was an unpleasant way of making your fortune in a world where you were likely to be surprised in the act by brothers. Such alarms did not agree with David's constitution, and he had felt so much nausea this evening that no doubt his liver was affected. Besides, he would have been greatly hurt not to be thought well of in the world ; he always meant to make a figure, and be thought worthy of the best seats and the best morsels. Buminatrag to this effect on the brilliant future in reserve for him, David by the help of his check-string kept himself % m BROTHER JACOB, on the alert to «»'.> it ■ . ^ ^t^ -^^- o-la^' Lr S "r ^ •" "^^ --^ sap out through the window w7 ■5°"?' "'**'"" h« oould J««ob, the horrible JaoojTad an 'w^'J^'' ^•'«* '^iffl'^ty before everybody elae, to stet .,« k^*^ *""'' °' 8<"t»K up jnilk-bowl that wae "dX s^?, ft v""**' ''^ -aptying the taken to sleeping in t^^w-l^ '""'i but of late j.e had ^use, it would be on the oppS,'^,^ **/« <"«»• into the David was making his eiit ^ "*** °' **«' from which Jacob; yet DaridlrJ li*^ ^J^"" ''a, no need to thtekoS -it w„ th, „„j thkg wS Jl'*='°^» "««« on iim «n«ll bundle of olothfs w^l^ '^^'' gratuitously, hu treading lightly on the tl^^of^^ ^^'^ "^^ ^-^ "«« so^ at a ^,rt paceaoross the fields to^ ''"t"""''' "«>» 'alki^ take him no more than two mLutl? """ *''''''«*• Itwou^f oould make out the tree it w« !f *° «*' «»" the box he pitehfork-buttoUer^:",^,* «>«* the staff was JacZ dresemg his brotheVwith a s^l^^^r'^'^ "«°«'»«>^ for J ■'0dd:^anfgi^^th?drS''-'"'*'-«»^°-**J necessity of fast for him when they^J^ °' J""'!?";* » '"8« break- «l««dy three hours shoe tw\ *i */°»'''"-- the strictor. "® " "^ affectionate boa-con- th:tX\TX^^£rr^£r.^ •^*"' *^°« pay him a complLent " ''""^""•' ■"'^ ^"hing tf 14 BROTHER JACOB. D«Tid groaned. The wajri of thieving were not ways of pleMUttnewi. Oh, why had he an idiot brotherf Or, why, in general, was the world lo constituted that a man oould not take his mother* s guinea* comfortably ? David became grimly speculative. Copious dinner at noon for Jacob; but little dinner, because little appetite, for David. Instead of eating, he plied Jacob with beer; for through this liberality he descried a hope. Jacob fell into a dead sleep, at last, without having his arms round David, who paid the reckoning, took his bundle^ and walked off. In another half-hour he was on the coach on his way to Liverpool, smiling the smile of the triumphant wicked. He was rid of Jacob — he was bound for the Indies, where a gullible princess awaited him. He would never steal any more, but there would be no need; he would show himself so deserving, that people would make him presents freely. He must give up the notion of his father's legacy ; but it was not likely he would ever want that trifle; and even if he did why, it was a compensation to think that in being forever divided from his family he was divided from Jacob, more ter- rible than Gorgon or Demogorgon to David's timid gre^n eyes. Thank heaven, he should never see Jacob any morel ■: CHAPTEB II. It was nearly six years after the departure of Mr. David faux for the West Indies, that the vacant shop in the market- place at Grimworth was understood to have been let to the stranger with a sallow complexion and a buff cravat, whose first appearance had caused some excitement in the bar of the Woolpack, where he had called to wait for the coach. • Grimworth, to a discerning eye, was a good place to set up shopkeeping in. There was no competition in it at present; the Church-people had their own grocer and draper; the Dis- senters had theirs; and the two or three butchers found a ready market for their joints without strict reference to relig- ious persuasion — except that the Eector's wife had given a .^■rt# BROTHKR JACOB 10 •». 'bo oastomers,' and Ld ^o^l^i"^ ^'^ »•>" »"" of their HitherCithi^hLuheWa^Twu ""''"" '^ » «<«"y- Grimworth Zarto l^v ^^^ ' "^ ''°'"* ^^ 'be families in .hops whereTet fei*td'T.'"\""'" «»°°*1 " «>e them; butif new^^„ " ""t^H . «" ?"'* '~"«^* before Wd in f«-Ukefoll^^d t/r""!!! ^^^ '"^ gown-pieces giving them a fS;ri^"'X^n'i:Kf ^"^ '°"''"' would a gown sit lib. . * ^^ °° "bat human figure bunch of'^W.i«?V"' tf r^* '""^^ """^ ^'^ '^- window, with JZ^otl^J^:" '""' *° ^" *beir tive by oontrastTHfokets Th^.""* '•^' ""^^ '^'"'- Grimworththataya«alt!!^'T V '^"^^ "" ^bere for would not iuTe J3^^?h?* 'r-bopping, once introduced. W« market t^^oJ'^t^^rwr^"^* ''^"'" 'o^' on a syatem of .^1 0,06^,*!°.' ''''.''1'^ •'"»i°'««' being done were of the fresh^\^f IL?*^ ,«" l?! "*™'^ 'be fashions «t an advantS? ^ "^ "^^ ^^"^ "'8^' *« bought oTthe busi^. wfih^hT.T''^'^'*'""'™^^ tbe nature .bout to set uTil tte vatnf llS'^'r^-^ '"'-Ker was tional strength to tte%«T„V«,^ naturaUy gave some addi- Boine to^!!^^„ the fears of the less sanguirw. If he waa So^ng to sell drapery, it was probable that a pale-faced fellow 16 BROTHER JACOB. I lik« that would deal in thowy and inferior artiolM— printed cottons and mutlin* which would leave their dye in the wash- tub, jobbed linen full of knot*, and flannel that would loon look like gauze. If gTooer7, then it waa to be hoped that no mother of a family would trust the tea* of an untried grocer. 8uoh things had been known in some parishes as tradesmen going about oaurassing for custom with cards in their pockets : when people came from nobody knew where, there was no knowing what they migut do. It was a thousand pities that Mr. Moffat, the auctioneer and broker, had died without leav- ing anybody to follow him in the business, and Mrs. Clove's trustee ought to have known better than to let a shop to a stranger. Even the discovery that ovens were being put up on the premises, aad that the shop was, in fact, being fitted up for a confectioner and pastry-cook's business, hitherto unknown in Orimworth, did not quite suffice to turn the scale in the newcomer's favor, though the landlady at the Woolpaok defended him warmly, said he seemed to be a very clever young man, and from what she could make out, came of a very good family; indeed, was moat likely a good many peo- ple's betters. It certainly made a blaze of light and color, almost as if a rainbow had suddenly descended into the market-place, when, one fine morning, the shutters were taken down from the new shop, and the two windows displayed their decorations. On one side, there were the variegated tints of collared and mar- ble meats, set off by bright green leaves, the pale brown of glazed pies, the rich tones of sauces and bottled fruits en- closed in their veil of glass—altogether a sight to bring tears into the eyes of a Dutch painter; and on the other, there was a predominance of the more delicate hues of pink, and white, and yellow, and buff, in the abundant lozenges, candies, sweet biscuits and icings, which to the eyes of a bilious person might easily have been blended into a faery landscape in Turner's latest style. What a sight to dawn upon the eyes of Grimworth children I They almost forgot to go to their din- ner that day, their appetites being preoccupied with imaginary sugar-plums; and I think even Punch, setting up his taber- nacle in the market-place, would not have succeeded in draw- BROTMR JACOB. ^J but wh.t houMwUe in Orimwo^hT^' ,^^™*™" ''m coming, fwnirii forth her table ^.I^.?"''' "*" ^^^ •i*"'* to w« deceived if he thouVhl^rim^L^i " '"""'''^ ^'""o". mto hia pocket, on ,uchtfm.°"^ '"'""''^ "«" *° A-w erou.-«,„ndin» name, that StTv. ^t "'»' "hop-, ge„. iewtod, unprovidenrhMoof «„u '*>8«« comply, who would have "^ongthat ..all iSiS:rd'''tte';!nr °''"r<^'^ Edward Freely waa a m.n „i, • * ^mdowg. But Mr .ubordinaUonf he heuSj""" •«?»'««• ""^ ^t in due mu" only b, „tiriied'^ ?dS ™r >.' r:-" ""^ i'«'v mg for them. « the wMnlirV^^ '"'* '^^ P""" »' P»/- to hin. with a haL^^n't^ *t^* °\^d, f .^'^'°'*^ ""-Id^ mg the halfpennyrddher Mu.?^L > ?' ''°""' "^^ '^"^ wa. not a mim to cheat I" M '* "^"'^iMt in "rook." He 00, obaerving^t ae I^! «L"';,Tf''r "hUd-he often .aid that he w Jve^LXh^'thtK 'H'^ '^^ '^" foelmg, a. «,„,« j^pj^ did ' '^ '* ^'^ * '^""^ hi» at the .hop, thinking nnrrirtto'en™ '*'""' """°»"'" loner who had made a Z„ encourage a new parish- she fou,d Mr Sy a mrcfvir^T'^""' ** chnrchTanj ■-telligent to a eurp'^i^inrdeSfor r*r"°« "■"•' "><» Pnnoipled, too, foriS ^vL hTuslfo" "°"*~:^°°"'' '•"" sugar, he had thrown much hVht on ^k Tu '*""' "''"^'"If ° ught on the dishonesty of othw 18 BROTHER JACOB. ill tpadesmen. Moreorer, he had been in the West Indlwi, and had seen the very estate which had been her poor grand- father's property; and he said the missionaries were the only cause of the negro's discontent — an observing young man, evi- dently. Mrs. Chaloner ordered wine-biscnits and olives, and gave Mr. Freely to understand that she should find his shop a great convenience. So did the doctor's wife, and so did Mrs. Gate, at the large carding-mill, who, having high connec- tions frequently visiting her, might be expected to have a large oopoumption of ratafias and macaroons. w. je less aristocratic matrons of Grimworth seeme4 likely at first to justify their husbands' confidence that they would never pay a percentage of profits on drop-cakes, instead of making their own, or get u^ a hollow show of liberal housekeeping by purchasing slices of collared meat, when a neighbor came in for supper. But it is my task to narrate the gradual corrup- tion of Orimworth manners from their primitive simplicity a melancholy task, if it were not cheered by the prospect of the fine peripateia or downfall by which the progress of the corruption was ultimately checked. It was young Mrs. Steene, the veterinary surgeon's wife, who first gave way to temptation. I fear she had been rather over-educated for her station in life, for she knew by heart many passages in "Lalla Eookh," the "Corsair," and the "Siege of Corinth," which had given her a distaste for domes- tic occupations, and caused her a withering disappointment at the discovery that M^. Steene, since his marriage, had lost all interest in the "bulbul," openly preferred discussing the nature of spavin with a coarse neighbor, and was angry if the pudding turned out watery — indeed, was simply a top-booted "vet.," who came in hungry at dinner-time; and not in the least like a nobleman turned Corsair out of pure scorn for his race, or like a renegade with a turban and crescent, unless it were in the irritability of his temper. And scorn is such a very different thing in top-boots I This brutal man had invited a supper-party fbr Christmas eve, when he would expect to see mince-pies on the table. Mrs. Steene had prepared her mince-meat, and had devoted much butter, fine flour, and labor to the making of a batch of flLlflP'.C^ Jll ^Jttk BROTHER JACOB. jg with tre^Cof the mom«n. T' *^'" !''" """'^ only think .ight of theZJthe ,u;j':°S° H^ to t V'"^' "'"<'•' Bhe was oertain, and before SftL ^ '^ """^ "* ''«'' should never hfl/„«^i„-? *« company; and then she come to n i Srr,i*7'".''° '^™'"^f'^ *" *''>°k "he had expensive-indeeri. making^nL^^.X J^"' *t**' '^^^^^'y for the.. butnh«^rnr:£:r;aste^°" ^"^"^ ^ ""^«"'- woSn-I^nou^Sr^ritersInW ^^If "^'^^'^^'^ ^°-« I am grieved to add^hi^r^ u* ^°l '^* ""i^oe-pies, and, to confeal ttAZ''^. ^i^ThirT. '" ""'" step in a downward cm,r»r .11 ™" ""^ *^« 8«'"»»d beiigoutof Snv w^\ •''"'» *° " y°°"» '°'°a"'» renegades ldTMs.,Sd^;:'"T'"''"' ^^""'"8 ^t*" Teterinarysurwon fonH?/ ^ * ?"''^'^* *° '=^»^'' f"-" a to l.ard»S°by^li^trrn- v^^" *^'"1 «"«? '"«' to her intimate friend M«*ii''? fact of the bought minoe-pies and who su4^X^^;^t°rsSif r'^*^^'^'"'' ^is, lowed at two mouthfulT a w Z !^l ^ fv*" "^°<=«»% '^al- profit of a hundred per c^ Z^^"" "^"^ T'^ P^yi°« « a fatal disingenuousn'es^ mL pt^^ero^hefr T "T' praising the nastrv Of*,.,. P-^ers ot their bosoms by tje t<£fre,urtXnS rwaSlT-C'anTL''- ^' contented with.^^-t=»JlX'ira^ jMWi so BROTHER JACOB. ;:: f Freely a " felt a secret joy when she detected a similar perver- sion in her neighbor's practice, and soon only two or three old-fashioned mistresses of families held out in the protest against the growing demoralization, saying to their neighbors who came to sup with them, " I can't offer you Freely's beef, or Freely 's cheese-cakes; everything in our house u home- made; I'm afraid you'll hardly have any appetite for our plain pastry." The doctor, whose cook was not satisfactory the curate, who kept no cook, and the minin.' -"ent, who was a great ban vivant, even began to rely on ' t for the greater part of their dinner, when they wished to ^-^ve an en- tertainment of some brilliancy. In short, the business of man- ufacturmg the more fanciful viands was faat passing out of aie hands of maids and matrons in private families, and was beoommg the work of a special oommaroial organ. I am not ignorant that thU sort of thing is called the in- evitable course of civUization, division of labor, and so forth and that the maids and matrons may be said to have had theii hands set free from cookery to add to the wealth of society in some other way. Only it happened at Grimworth, which, to be sure, was a low place, that the maids and matrons could do nothing with their hands at aU better than oook- mg; not even those who had always made heavy cakes and leathery pastry. And so it came to pass that the prog- ress of civilization at Grimworth was not otherwise appar- ent than in the impoverishment of men, the gossiping idle- ness of women, and the heightening prosperity of Mr. Edward Freely. The Yellow Coat School was a double source of profit to the calculating confectioner; for he opened an eating-room for the BUi»nor workmen employed on the new school, and he accom- modated the pupils at the old school by giving great attention to the fancy-sugar department When I think of the sweet- tasted swans and other ingenious white shapes crunched by Uie small teeth of that rising generation, I am glad to remem- ber that a certain amount of calcareous food has been held good for young creatures whose bones are not quite formed- for I have observed these delicacies to have an inorganic flavor which would have recommended them greatly to that young \rw BROTHER JACOB. jj . ^Mor the confectioner himself h«^!:^ ».• into Grimworth homes. alT«„'. ^f ^'' '^^ graduaUy some initial repugn^^ Soil, """"^'v** ^^- ^ 'P^ of a guest Boeme/aSgliat "Zt"/' °?/'? ^'^ '^ooP^o^ «» chasing of his past^* In^^^ Juatifymg, like the pur- and therefore open to suspidon ^ "!?,'' ^" ^"^ " ^^^^er. business wassoUirelHew at 0.,"°*"^.: "l" <->^^^tionery the scale of rank had not^n d^ZT*^' *^''* *'" P^'^^ ^^ was no doubt about drane™ 1h ^ ascertained. There good old Grimworth S^ TikeT7 l""*" ^^'^ "^^ »* jnan: they visited witTthe t^t " whf f """^ f'" ^™'<7- land, played many a game at whS^^ '.w? *""*'' '^"^ own descended a little tow^ the Hm.1 ^ ^^ ^°'^'' '^^ "on- taken to the coal-trad"aC^^d^'?'"^"'*' ''"' ^^^ la^ly whethe. aconfection«sho^id^.H f*."*^^'"'*"'"; but of respectabUity. or°? X n':dtrto.St*°«:f,?'-«^" ''^*^ among butchers and bakers „„» „ ^^ ^" associates dition threw no light H?s ^k. .T ^T'^'"' °" ^^'"^ *-"- and would perhaps have Ln / ^''''*'°' """ ^ ^^ ^^or, if Mr. Edw^d FreevToSr ™^^'° *^° '^^ '""^«' «^«" of an entirely insignilcL" Ss^TttCr^Tv""* ^ Boon appeared that he waTa ™™ . i m ^""^ *^"' " ^«^ had been in the West InZ n^T}"^^" ^°"°» °"^' ''^o sea and land, so ttat he oid 1« T" """^ ''""^«" ''^ Desdemonas ;ith stories of sttif^^ f" "^ °* Grimworth which he had stabbed X nft t^'/n' T^'f ^ """'^*' overboard just as the morTsLr f..^, ? ^ "'^^^'^ Pl"nging vour the ci,k's maie "f te^w f '^"'\ "" ^ ''^'> ^ ^^■ gone in a laud where the w^^M I"" ''^^^ '"' ^^ ""der- of rounds of towt ou strlS^ blowfrom aU quarters at once; toes bitten off bri^dSofCt'""'-'^'* *'*«'" °^ offered to him L a mT whnf ^8\''°°°'« «"»* had been therefore particutrly n^d^^°>T ^^»* T ^^''*' "^-^ '"^ Creole heiress wh^^dweptb^rirarv^'r"**' ""^ »* " conversational talents L Lt? 1 J"' departure. Such disadvantages of CnLi™ '« Z ^°''' ''" '>^'-^"^^ cheek, wer'e of theTn£"°ni 1 off ^ ?'""' "'°«'' «!. pmK, set off by a fnngo of dark 23 BROTHXR JACOB. m.i whisker, was quite' eolipeed by the presence of the sallow Mr. Freely. So exceptional a oonfeotioner elevated his busi- ness, and might well begin to make disengaged hearts, flutter a little. Fathers and mothers were naturally more slow and cautious in their recognition of the newcomer's merits. "He's an amusing fellow," said Mr. Prettyman, the highly respectable grocer. (Mi's. Prettyman was a Miss Fothergill, and her sister had married a London mercer.) " He's an amusing fellow : and I've no objection to his making one at the Oyster Clubj bnt he's a bit too fond of riding the high horse. He's uncommonly knowing, I'll allow; but how came he to go to the Indies? I should like that answered. It's unnatural in a confectioner. I'm not fond of people that have been beyond seas, if they can't give a good account how they happened to go. When folks go so far off, it's because they've got little credit nearer home — that's my opinion. However, he's got some good rum; but I don't want to be hand and glove with him, for all that." It was this kind of dim suspicion which beclouded the view of Mr. Freely's qualities in the maturer minds of Grimworth through the early months of his residence there. But when the confectioner ceased to be a novelty, the suspicions also ceased to be novel, and people got tired of hinting at them, especially as they seemed to be refuted by his advancing pros- perity and important. Mr. Freely was becoming a person of influence in the parish : he was found useful as an over- seer of the poor, having great firmness in enduring other peo- ple's pain, which firmness, he said, was due to his great benevolence; he always did what was good for people in the end. Mr. Chaloner had even selected him as clergyman's church-warden, for he was a very handy man, and mucL more of Mr. Chaloner's opinion in everything about church business than the older parishioners. Mr. Freely was a very regular churchman, but at the Oyster Club he was sometimes a little free in his conversation, more than hinting at a life of Sul- tanio self-indulgence which he had passed in the West Indies, shaking his head now and then and smiling rather bitterly, as men are wont to do when they intimate that they have become BROTHER JACOB. 33 f Jir^^,!!?'''"' T ^"'** «''°*™' *" Ws attentions to the fair sex, «,mbinuig the gallantries of a lady's man with a seventy of criticism on the person and ma^neiTTf Iw Wleswh,eh tended rather to stimulate in the femm^e b/e^t Noth1r.r.*°.'T?r '^^ approval of so fastidious a judw Nothing short of the very best in the department of Se Sward ■^elfrh'f/f'"'*" ''^*"'*^'' '^l^ S£ luxuriant and dazzlmg beauty in the West Indies Tf n,.J seem incredible that a confectioner shonid have SeL 2 Z lylmveUed' he V»/r t T" °''^™"* ""^^ ^' ^"^ ^°' °"™- ly travelled, he had also bow-legs and a saUow, small-featured visage, so that nature herself had stamped him fo^a fas'S connoisseur of the fair sex. "u rar a tastidious At last, however, it seemed clear that Cupid had found a sharper arrow than usual, and that Mr. Freely's W wa^ tion? Miss Fullilove, the timber-merchant's daughter was quite sure that if she were Miss Pemiy Palfrey, shfiT cauhous; It was not a good sign when men fo;,Sd lomuc^ fipeZt p'?J " "^'- '■" '' ^"^ °° !'"'« " person^ w^f iT '^*™^' '•^°°'' daughter of the Mr. Palftey who farmed im own laud, that had attracted Mr. I^, peculiar regard, and conquered his f astidio-^nrs- ^d no wonder, for the Ideal, as exhibited in the finest ;^work was perhaps never so closely approached by the Ite"Is^ the person of the pretty Penelope. Ker yellowish to haS did notcuri naturally, I admit, but its bright crisp ringlete were such smooth, perfect miniature tubes, that you wouM have longed to pass your little finger through them, anlfeei their soft elasticity. She wore them in a!rop, for ^th^ Si?* i% ^^ '''™ '^""'y- '^^ P«°«'0P« was not vet ^™f L J; • *^.' T"" ''^*'"' «^« ^ """I blue eyes, Td round nostrils in her little nose, and teeth such as the id^ 34 BROTHER JACOB. would be aeen to have, if it ever showed them. Altogether, she was a small, round thing, as neat as a pink and white double daisy, and as guileless; for I hope it does not argue guile m a pretty damsel of nineteen to think that she should like to have a beau and be « engaged," when her elder sister had already been in that position a year and a half. To be sure, there was young Towers always coming to the house j but Penny felt convinced he only came to see her brother, for he never had anything to say to her, and never offered her his arm, and was as awkward and silent as possible. It is not unlikely that Mr. Freely had early been smitten by Penny's charms, as brought under his observation at church, but he had to make his way in society a litUe before he could come mto nearer contact with them; and even after he was well received in Qr^ipworth families, it was a long whUe be- fore he could converse with Penny otherwise than in an inci- dental meeting at Mr. Luff's. It was not so easy to get in- vited to Long Meadows, the residence of the Palfreys; for ttough Mr. Palfrey had been losing mraiey of late years, not being able quite to recover his feet after the terrible murrain which forced him to borrow, his family were far from consid- ering themselves on the same level even as the old-establUhed tradespeople with whom they visited. The greatest people, even kings and queens, must visit with somebody, and the equals of the great are scarce. They were especially scarce at Grimworth, which, as I have before observed, was a low parish, mentioned with the most scornful brevity in gazetteers. Even the great people there were far behind thoee of their own standing in other parts of this realm. Mr. Palfrey's farmyard doors had the -paint aU worn off them, and the front garden walks had long been merged in a general weediness. StUl, his father had been caUed Squire Palfrey, and had been re- spected by the last Grimworth generation as a man who could afford to drink too much in his own house. Pretty Penny was not blind to the fact that Mr. Freely ad- mired her, and she felt sure that it was he who had sent her a beautiful valentine; but her sister seemed to think so lightly of him (all young ladies think lightly of the gentlemen to whom they are not engaged), that Pennv never dared mention BROTHBB JACOB. gg had been to the LidTee ^anl W ?.* ' '"^ ^ """^ "J"" her a sort of public oWto,^, J ^ITJ^ ''*"' "««■"«<» *» Captain Cooltf ,md W h»H r ' ''^!' ?°''^«°° ^ruKH, or be a remarkabirje^n^'fikt'^to r"*"?" t^"^' *» Question., with which reriLl of th^ ''- .'° *''^8'"'"'» come acquainted durir W ^mortals she had be- Oulyit seemeTstS^^/th^t , ' J'*? m * ^"-^^^-^hool. confectioner and Stcook^r.^"'' 1"^ ''^°'^^ ^ » Penny's dreanw h!t ^fV u" f °°"^y I"'*" 'li»t»'bed who c'ouldnHt on horsel\'^;''J?r;,i?"l''^ " °"'" but her brothers were v"y relw'/" '^^ """" tail""! power of anecdote whil'^^^f i'^t^t^'"^ ^^^T' ""* companion. He was a v«7!L7 7 ^""^ * delightful had hLd him sTy .t u7^ ""*"' '.'"' """"K^*' ^°- •I'e wished to do his"ut^ in whi ' T ^^' *^^ ^'' '^^m placed, and ^ W a^f J", "?**' °' ^"* ''^ "^Sht be had repeated a ^Z of T.L al ^'^' ^°' °"« <'«y be -ae th^ words oTtTe i^.Z.'iJt^r^^ w"a£'^ " Wllwit tbae. It la p.in to Utb, B««w«l,th«,ttwM»™«,„dl,.,, sugar-plum feUc^^- Oh. It tl^'" "^"^ ^^ ^^^'^ """'* confectioner- well pITn; ,^ u^*"""" ^'- ^^'^7 '"M a and since hL ^ Tc^nLrner *"k *" '^' '■" ^^ «""' .bowing her faithli^^tr S7of" '^ZZT^' TorrsttaCf "^^^ f •^^" ^-" X' day. blu.htg^:^i r T °J2t "'"°'^°'« *^« °*^ delight bow much S.Fri'wonlfh!'^ >ta„d thought with her firmness of mind ^ ^ comforted if he knew ii -_,;u, .? ^* ^""^ *°d thouffht IS so «/-««_ !,-„ _,. .. ^«« t«. u., ^,„, ^^, ^-j^^^ uotge^the";^ o1 I 1 i; 26 BROTBXR JACOB. the ontwurd? I have known young ladiei, much bett«T edu- cated, and with an outward world diTeisifled by ingtruotive lecture*, to aay nothing of literature and highly dereloped fancy-work, who have spun a cocoon of risionary joys and sorrows for themselves, just aa Penny did. Her elder sister Letitia, who had a prouder style of beauty, and a more world- ly ambition, was engaged to a wool-factor, who came all the way from Cattelton to see her; and everybody knows that a wool-factor takes a very high rank, sometimes driving a dou- ble-bodied gig. Letty's notions got higher every day, and POTUtty never dared to speak of her cherished griefs to her lofty sister— never dared to propose that they should call at Mr. Freely's to buy licorice, though she had prepared for such an mcident by mentioning a slight sore throat. So she had to pass the shop on the other side of the market-place, and re- flect, with a suppressed sigh, that behind those pink and white jars somebody was thinking of her tenderly, unconscious of the small space that divided her from him. And it was true that, when business permitted, Mr Freely thoughtagreat dealof Penny. He thought her prettiness com- parable to the loveliest things in confectionery ; he judged her to be of submissive temper-likely to wait upon him as weU as If she had been a negress, and to be sUently terrified when his hver made him irritable; and he considered the Palfrey family quite the best in the parish, possessing marriageable daughters. On the whole, he tho>vht her woriiy to become Mrs. Edward Freely, and all the more so because it would probably require some ingenuity to win her. Mr. Palfrey was capable of horsewhipping a too rash pretender to his daugh- ter shand; and, moreover, he had three tall sons: it was clear that a suitor v < aid be at a disadvantage with snch a family unless travel and natural acumen had given him a counter- vailing power of contrivance. And the first idea that occurred to him in the matter was, that Mr. Palfrey would object less if he knew that the Freelys were a much higher family than his own. It had been foolish modesty in him hitherto to con- Mai the fact that a branch of the Freelys held a manor in Yorkshire, and to shut up the portrait of his great-uncle the admiral, instead of hanging it up where a family portrait ll'U%iiA BHOTHKR JACOB. 27 WM -u to have had on. am 1^ """"Ptcuou. position, point, resembling tlieh^i'Tewy' "d one,ye,-in the.; iMignifloanoe of feaLw^nSV^'" •' """^ P^<» Wmwlf and hi, gr^S^ep^^f °"^ *^' relationship betw«m nounoedon allhandatob^ .Teri^/^K *""' '""' ^^« P^ people who n.edth^roter^.TZ^""^,^"*''' ''"''P^ »" book must pickle bTVeUAL^S^ ^P'* ''«' P'o'^'d by «en«,; »Btothen»^hX^vT ?■«»"«». »nd such non- why, of oouwe, for dry gooT E™.?^ ^^ '""* "•*«*' by handful, a^d piX^Td for 1°^ ^L'^"^' ^°" ""■* •^jug-quite the best thinBwheth!,S T" ' '^^^^ oauw you might knowhow mil . ^ 1?™* °' "*"». be- any we of ySnr JmZ. .7^ a teaonpful wa. if you'd got fi^e -iddieS^';r'to^°iy«r- >' """^-^ *«^- kind i. like TitiiT oSo^ If^?"- ^""ledge of this aaMrs. Palfrey ^,1 ^"r/vf^""^* *» oommuni^tej 3 rather stoul^^d'XS'«"j^e, had now bi«ne oral teaching oooldh^^lTL ^ ^^^ '^" ^"" borne, her be glad to «» hin, and talk wW^ ? '"" "'*'*•' '°^d he could caU at Long aCo^s ^Z ^"^. "^^ ^^ *^* Wing hand, thinking hort^derfStTv^*^ "^^ » *^- this world. wonderfully things came about in hi o?th:T;;iLs^J fl't'"^ ""^-'-^ -*» t.. the male rZt^ll^t ,^t!-*^!*??^'^«.«!« '^''denoy fc™ii„r • ""-""^K sne tendency ii ' femily to jeer at him a Uttie as « peaky" mmL^ i I ^ BROTHER JACOB. •nd bow-leggjd, li« premUy MtibU.h«d hi. podtifln « „ •Meptod and frequent guest Young Towere looked on him with inoreaaing diegnet when they met at the hooie on a Sun- day, and seoreUy longed to tiy hii ferret upon him. aa a Diece of rermrn which that valuable animal would te likely to tackle with unheeitating rigor. But-so blind fumetimee are parent^neither Mr. nor Mr.. Palfrey .u.pected that Penny would have anything to My to a trade«aan of quertionabl. rank who«i youthful bloom wa. much withered. YoTg Tow! er^ ttey ttought, had an eye to her, and that wa. likely enough to be a match rame day; but Penny wa. a chUd at .tance. under which Mr. Freely would make her an oflter- pehap. down by the row of dam«>n-treea, when they were in would the letter begin? « Deareet Penelope » ? or "Z dear MiM Penelope"? or .traight off, without d«ir any^ « Srt,?» r' °t^^ J''*" P^OPI" were embarrassed" kwitt^rw Ar?' °^'*'' °*"' *• would not accept It without her father", consent: .he would always be true to Mr. Freely, but .he would not dieobey her father. For Penny ZTJf^^!^^ "r*^ '"""' "^ '»«' ^"^' """i* were afte^ ward of opmion that it .poke ill for her not to have felt an inatinctive repugnance to Mr. Freely. ««™!i k' T^ '*"*'°^' ""* wiriiedto be quite .ure of the ground he trod on. H« view, on marriage were not entirely XST^^*7"' " ''■"'y "^«'«^ '^t^ oonaiderationn what would be Advantagrx)u. to a man in hi. po.ition, a. if he had had a very Urge i-^ount of money spent on hi. eduction f^V*?-^"*.' '^ *".*•" '° ^"^^ '° ""> '"""K Pl«««i and ^ he applied himself quite a. much to conciliate the iivdr of the parento, a. to secure the attachment of Penny. Mrs. Palfrev ^I'^T b««" ««ooe«aible to flattery, and her husband, beiS ^ of mortal mould, would not, it might be hoped, b; proof against rum-that very fine Jamaica rum of whichMr. BVeely wpeoted always to have a supply sent him from Jamaica. It 7ZthZ^ ^* Mr Palfrey into the parlor behind the ft^h.!^ /•"'f'^u^^'"^* "«'''*«" <» the features of the heroic admiral; but by getting hold of him rather late one i^'H^^^Rb^i BROTBEB JACOB. jy From that hoar Mr Friwlv f.u . privacy with an e.«mawi mL oW ' °1 '"'^"•- '"^S « «.d being rather lon.T/ll r;o fd "7' ^'" i*"^ '"^"' unbosom himself a litU. 1 .„k^ i ' .. " °'*""^ ^^ '^°^d of in a mixed oL^l.^^t^iS .on!'"''' ''r""* -"" "P""^ from hi. uaole in J^ rwho^hZn k"^? ''" expectations nephew Edward bettarTK .„ . , "hiWren, and loved hU he had b«,n.oh5 at il'TeawLTa'''' '"."''' '°'''^' """"g" ened to out him ^ with aS^*^?;"* *^"' \« '""^ «^««t- written to state hi. full f„i- *' """e^w, he had since ««entricold^nUe^.itd°^^7"„7 - "•» - during hi. life, Mr EdwarTFlT ^.'° *'^*' '''•y """My the letter whi^ d«l,»«J ^.il^ ^ •*"''* •'«"' Mr. Palfrey .ifectionate uncle'tu ' C^XT± 'jf ° ""'^'^ "^ ''>« and could not help admirino^i.: -"f "f'"'"^ ■"' **« '"tter, olared that .uch 'rS^C J^T' °^ ">« "«Pl«'- who de'- hi. conduct, he should work^^WM^" °° '^^''«"""' *° hi. modest forfme at it aS t^e J^e itl^r?*" .'"''' °"^o wa. to come to him-weU a^d^ It w.^'^tl'* ""^^ •urpnaing for one of the Freel. ffm«' * \ " '"'*''"'» ^ery him, considering the uLdf that C»' J^i""* "" «"»*« 'eft gone by,-nay.!till p«Ze?t^^^ K"^ ^T"^^ « ««« Would not iL. PalfrC^aL^' Northumberland branch, look at the hu.t y^7bS>e of t7 """ °' "^^ ""^ '^ was a man who cared toZslJ™ T"""' ^'- ^««>y pique himself on his fa^S^ 2u^T "^'"' ""* ^^ "o' seat to Mr. Freely-, aarria^ wTh [ ' ^^""^ «''''° ''" "o"- having hit on a ffrrnXbTThi^h \„ "" ""m ^'"*' ^""^y- "^^ o« all doubts and ob ^tfoi^ i^Sr 'g.?foS ■,„ .•■•' *• BROTBER JACOB. LitU. Penny wm my prood ud fluttering, bat hwdly m der«i if young Tow«. o^ „„oh .bontit, for h. lud^t b««. to the hou- Utely, «,d her .ieter «d brotherTw^ n^er inclined to «.ee, th« to.ympMhl,.. Gri^^ «^ with the ne«.. AU men extolled Mr. Freely', good fortune' ww^ wUhed the marriage might turn out weU. While affairs were at thi. triumphant juncture, Mr. Freelv «. mornmg oUerred that a atone-caryer who hiid b«,n h^. fMbng in the «»t.ng-room h«l left a new.paper behind. It wa. the X th^rp OoMMe, and X riiire being a counts not unknown to Mr. Freely, he felt «,mo onrioeity'to S oyer ili and eepoially over the adverti^m.nt.!' 1 K fol owT' """ ^' *"* " ^ "^- " '" Produced by the followuig announcement:-" If David Faux, ton of Jonath«» •^mey, of Bodham, he wiU hear of wmething to hU adW- »n'''^'^' ^^" •"'"^•d Mr. Freely, involuntarily " Can he have left me a legacy 7 " '<"uuiiBruy, CHAPTEB m. West Indie, on^y a few years after hi. arrival there, and have ^veSJ ^ f , l^-'". •iJ'e any plain m«i wh7h«l nevir travelled. But these cases do occur in life. Since, u we know, men change their skies and see new constellations with- out chwgmg their souls, it will foUow sometimes that they don t change their busmess under those novel circumstances tions. He had looked forward, von are «wa~ to a br"^t career amon^ "the blacks"; but.'either becalm they ha'd^ BROTHER JACOB. Nobody ta Jam^cwu^TxioL" '"'*** '"'"'K ""'"^ ">•«. pleMuw of hi, ««iety «,^. '"'re? ^""« te the Old World. So that in thTI. t ■ * ' "''"' »« ' ifft. •peat by him in the luiurio,,, 'Vi "'"""•"'■' I'olgenoe domg huni^lf .wrong™; '/'f ' ''"j '^-^k he wm PTtmentin whichheoouldoffefTiii;^',''''^' a) , u.e only d.: ••veral ingenioua plans by Si, ' ""^ ^^ 1 fonned pie of large fortune ^dL^tJ'f^'^' '- "i^oumvent^ with „«,tly the rig" pS „Tf^' ••"' "'O'^ he never C^ apparently no direct retation wl^'^h "<"> without work h«l hw oouf«,tionery reoeipto W t ' ''"''* ""*•"'<' hi", « ««ny b«i halfpe'nnie. and S'haL «' '^'."'' *» pae. , g;^ h« no instance been knownof n^""""^ »'"* ^ ''•"•ve tWe ««>w«i a. a «,vereign A^.li ""» ' ^^^fpemiy or a hidf! this worid: it i, l.d«.Ub?eTtTe'^^' ' ""^ ^^^ 'or him, if he wiU dare Tn^, ^*" "'"J' be a fine career he had to fall back on the «en„i^^, I v'"""**^- ^nd Jo ho content to pass a. aZifhT '"' """ '"« » him_to ""•tely, a. a good conf^^onir T.r^? °'' *° "P*^ -"o™ a^ bonal reading and obeervaH^T^ "* "P'** °f some addi- ^Ifo mufh money b;?";;^r T" °°">ing else he 3d ^pabihty of extending hfsskSl'intj,"?'^ ^ ^™««" '^en a ^bor, he began to see that H wa^ °^*" ''"^°^«« °f human -hine. Fate was too strong to r^ ""^ P°»«We for him to ter hor inclination and had fl.H ' ^^ ^"^ ''"'"Sht to mas- ^ canght him. ti^an'S^ t'd h^"" ^ ^^' «" " * fwffl aii other devices, made hiT j ■'' ""^ ""atching him a kitchen at Kingsto^ He ;^ 'YZ "^? ""^ P"'««''^ "e was getting submissive to her, S3 BROTHER JACOB. since she paid him with tolerable gains; but fevers and ptioUy heat, and other evils incidental to cooks in ardent climates, made him long for his native land ; so he took ship once more, carrying his six years' savings, and seeing distinctly, this time, what were Fate's intentions as to his career. If you question me closely as to whether all the money with which he set np at Grimworth consisted of pure and simple earnings, I am obliged to confess that he got a sum or two for charitably abstaining from mentioning some other people's misdemea- nors. Altogether, since no prospects were attached to his fam- ily name, and since a new christening seemed a suitable com- mencement of a new life, Mr. David Faux thought it as well to call himself Mr. Edward Freely. But lol now, iu epposition to all calculable probability, some benefit appeared to be attached to the name of David Faux. Should he neglect it, as beneath the attention of a prosperous tradesman? It might bring him into contact with his famUy again, and he felt no yearnings in that direction: moreover, he had small belief that the "something to his ad- vantage " could be anything considerable. On the other hand, even a small gain is pleasant, and the promise of it in this instance was so surprising, that David felt his curiosity awak- ened. The scale dipped at last on the side of writing to the lawyer, and, to be brief, the correspondence ended in an ap- pointment for a meeting between David and his eldest brother at Mr. Strutt's, the vague "something" having been defined as a legacy from his father of eighty-two pounds three shil- lings. David, you know, had expected to be disinherited! and so he would have been, if he had not, like some other indifferent sons, come of excellent parents, whose conscience made them scrupulous where much more highly instructed people often feel themselves warranted in following the bent of their indig- nation. Good Mrs. Faux could never forget that she had brought this ill-conditioned son into the world when he was in that entirely helpless state which excluded the smallest choice on his part; and, somehow or other, she felt that his going wrong would be his father's and mother's fault, if they failed in one tittle of their parental duty. Her notion of T:i. BROTHER JACOB. 33 K^l^LTuell-'oSr/ -r ^^ »»* it included mw, had got a littJe h^Jt „!fn. ^u^ ^"P^^'^i '»' 't™ a to .teal? To rtte ddina3 ^""JT: "" ^' «" '"'"'y like delivering him over tofc, " °* I' *^ » ^^"^^8 "^ "um of twenty i^ZJ^^C^ Propensitiea. No, let the la. .hare, «.d STt the^i ofl"*"'"" ^ •^'^»''*«'l *«"» from It, seeing that hi motC vlf T S"'"*"" 'x' P»t back of the twenty guinea, as h^'^l'^Tl"*"'"''"'^ three and w«,, perhaS, «o"e a^r^a^l' 1°"?^ i« ^""^ "^ '''»y. to him all the Sn^ and JTkeot in™ ^* '^T'^ ^ '«« return. Mr. Faux a«eed to hf. .T"" *" '^ Po»»ble oodioa to hi. wUracSgl^ in Je to d^:^""*, """^^ * science. But for n»n. tiJly ■ ° " ™f to die with a clear con- IHvid would n;ver"rpS^.'lU'^''y,,^°»8^'t -t likely that eharge of Jacob on hU^'dg of^! 1 *V°"' ''"' ^ the that David might perhaps b^ din .°°**,' '* " "'"» '""d tude on that point huleL™ 1"^ '^ ^*'' *°' '"^t of certi- But in this ZTo{V^Zl^''V^''°^''>ti^ heir, that David was shU 3^/ S'^l^n'^^T*""^"'^""^' brought by the testimony of ^neirttor^lw";;'"""'! *» "^ a journey to Cattelton wJ n«.f^* 'v^."* ^^8 •*«" oa a 8i«. Jth a ^^"^iTSXii: 'tr.^r' - It was David," though he could "»i«n """^'^ "'•"' bad no marks on bil: but no morf hL T"°* "''J^' *°' ^^ didn't hinder folks from k^LT ^^ '''"*' '^''8' "^d that in^dent which hJd iSto t^^i^i'^" ^* '" ^^ bU love to bis mot?:. ldTaay'2S« t He beggedZend dutiful visit by and h^^uti^T^r^M T^ ^ W ^'" a prospect of miria™ mkde ■* 1^ u ^ ^ v ''""^«" "^^ near Hia brother «.plieTwSul'^,^iL" ''" *" '*''^'' ^-•• ber,'£trrm7;L'''lln't*' "'r.'"^"' ^"'"^ ^^ *<> - the pr«4is,s 4i^^ Ue° frC h "^"^l "«''* °' y"" <»' ""'Cr^l'l' to th'STeitiS'tl^ce^'" * -'^ "-" "" BBOTHBB JACOB. of a transaotioii wWoh had enriched him to thi. extent. He J^ h^°f«^ ?°* °*"'^« ^" ^"^'^ "^ further laim* m J • ^"*«r°'^^«»°8"b«>. and relapeed with faU content ment into the character of Mr. Edward Freely, the orphim in the Weat Indies (I have already hinted that he had some ^uamtance with imaginative Uterature; and being of a Z! • k^^ww"'. ^'"^- T ^"^'"^ "PPUed even this fom^f knowledge to practical purposes.) tJiJT- ""^^ ""r *^?° " '"^^ '^'«' ">« "t>™ from Ws fruitful journey, Ihat the day of his marriage with Penny having been fixed, it was agre*i that MrsTalfr^ Sd overcome her reluotanee to move from home, and^she ^d P»„ 'T^'"°'!!i''™« *"«" *''° '^"8''*«" ^ ^ict little Penny's future abode and decide on the new arrangWents to be made for the reception of the bride. uT^Zl^t not ^n^^' ' ""' "*; r"^ ""^ comfortable that she need not envy even a wool-factor's wife. Of course, the uoner room over the shop was to be the best sitting-r^mrbu? Z tte parlor ^hind th« shop was to be made a s!itabk'bowertr the lovely Penny, who would naturally wUh to be nea^ her husband, though Mr. Freely declared his resolution n^er to p«lor furniture were left till hist, because the party was to fuuv k1 *r* °'"®°* ""^ ^^"^ ^^ before them, Lttle Penny blushing and smiling, with her "crop" i„ th; f,vf'n a^ opinicmwas being always asked and never given. She secretly wished to have a particular sort of ohii^! ney omamente, but she could not have brought hersS™ mention it. Seated by the side of her yeUow and rath" w^th^ had abeady crow's-feet about his eyes, she was quite tremu lous at the greatness of her lot in being'married to\ m^Z h«i traveUed so much-and before her sister Lettr' The hand.^me Let.tia looked rather p«,„d and contemptuous! tS^l^/"'"!".""*'"'^-"-'*-- -xl-- P«™n. s^d w^; ^--52 Tvi-™ a„. ^.i„ei auu mother tor letting Penny marry BROTBER JACOB. white-heart cherry gomg to be bitten 35 - d look like a fresh that cherry and that mouth without a lip? ^ ^""^^ ^e.t'^oLSS'T^?*'""? «>« ""^i^J «edofyo'SZ'fl'ranTM^..r'»<'-- "^'t be ItKcurfoTamTtotr' "^.^^ his eye on Freely. which Will i£oi'zxt:::^:^r^,,°' « *™^ moment, DaWd shrank fmnT T- • T^ ' •'° **"* <'"*><"'l eye. of his future faituw """"'""" '^««~' » *^« iu.r- ^l^:^:ZL^Ti^l\^tyr °^-«- a- " flesh and blood If fhi. .^ '"■""""''" ""^ P™"" °* ^y own all men ar" I should »y ^^ ""^ """ ""^ ""'^"^ "«•"'•-« ^gmj: •"' BROTHER JACOB. »n ^w^fe ^^'"^ *>»• door, and David, lifting hi. «,«. in^that^ diwotion, ..w hi. ddert teoth«, JonlS, on SJ "I'll .tay wi' Zavyl" .houted Jaoob, a. he. too. oausht My mo^er would have no nay, a. he'd been awa^r «> lon^ but I must Me after him. And it struck me he wa. verv like rrelTuCd.^"-''-'^ been talking o, you :?r^S to JoSin ° °* ^°"^ "''' " '^'^ ^- P'JfrV i.„"^f'T**''.v"^ innioent of a brother, rare enough," wid honert Jonathan, "A fine trouble and oo.t he Tto uTm th ^«atmg and other things, but we mu.t bear what'.^aS "And your name's Freely, i. it? » said Mr. Prettyman. Nay, nay, my name's Fatu; I know nothing o' Freely t" «ud Jonathan, ourtly. "Come," he «ided tummg toSa^d I must take some news to mother about Jaoob. ShaU I take „ J'^ T' ^ ^^ y°" undertake to mnd him back?" "Is this gentleman here in the confectionery line your brother, then, sir?" said Mr. Prettyman, feeliuTth^t it^Z an ^occasion on which formal language must be uwd. i don t want to own him, " said Jonathan, unable to resist a movement of indignation that had neyer been allow^ to sat^fy Itself. "He run away from home with go^ re«on1 Mr Palfrey left the shop; he felt his own pride too severely wounded by the sense that he had let himLlf bH "iTto wt TIT "" 'r'tf '^'''"'- '^^« '-'"' P'essi^S busied was to go home and tell his daughter that Freely was a xJ,r sneak, probably a raanal- and fJ.-".,^. J;"^' '™wy was a poor ^jj ^"OM^uMaDiib wtto ijivkeu V.y|iiLJpC^^ "*OTHBR JAOOa 4, *^\^^^^^r'^^X^!i^''r^ -If-gratuktioa would see now what ««+ ^ , n^'^' •"^ »•»»* Mr. Chtloner th. head, of old'^i'Sll^i"- •' -«• *^' •" '"> P-^"« 1^ (Mr. Ptettynu^^'Z- ^^ ^""'Jered it due from should knowall St^Vw to^W """i*" °' '^^ P^kZ Grimworth would have l^e^ '"","' "''• "interloper^ -tae in it, if thiuga wl?^ t ^'Cl^'^"' ^*-^ B.^ to de^KsreX^r i^ r *°^- ^ iTfw^r^nr-b^^^^^ «g, bro^i-bean,, and po^ a„hT t^.*]^ «Pple-dump. m hi. brother', shop, ft t^ f^->,i"^ *°"»d « Paradi^ Witt Jacob. forheworeler";£°^"«*f' *° «« force frightened above^^, tS^a^^i fd^of ^'^r^'/'^'^""-". « hi. d.op. which would ffl^e hi. e^" further disturbances .picuou.. " Tau go awa^^ ^hT" "" *^' """« '»°- J«P8, get him to lo to GilEk"!*""""""' ^ <"">. Pei- fMt enough, I dare My » he aTi '^v'"*- ^«'" ^""w me "Very welL-^d jomffh ' ^'^ * '"^"groan. !m 'houldn't ha^eom°^'^',8^y- "I don't see why weU as the resTJf ,^ b^ *r'^ '^^'^ ^^ ^i^Z and soon, else mother 'U never ^rt"^*^ ""^^ ^^ ^"^^ «^« an invitation which y^^Zt^Z fJ^" * "^* with him, athan had nothing tobe^'^'^'^JfW'i .and as hones. Jon'- was very frank in his oZ °^' " " P^l^We 'tat he who, puiuingthe benefitT?r'"'*'r *" *^'> «'^ draper" the information he cola Ltt T'^'^"""'^ '^ '»ake'^ ohial property l-ou^;^^,f;""""' ^'««ly common paro- 2Iub at Z wJCuLTTJ '^"^ "*" ""^^ting of the ^"ery membw was'aMious'tn'J,;^ ^i.'^**, """""aiiy lively. F^ely, as he called hreif ^Zt"^ V '"' """'"'^ ifanx was his name, was it? •" BROTHXR JACOB. Fox would Ut* bMn more tnitobla. The nukjoritr ezomnd • dewre to lee him hooted out of the town. ^^^ Mr. Ft^y did not venture over hit door-eill that d»T. for iTvi'^^ "^ ^"P •* ^« "<*•• ""d »kere w« eV.^ ^babUity that they would have • trwn of juvenile foUowen He lent to engage tlie Woolpaok gig for an early hour the next morning; but this order waa not kept religioualv a secret by the l«.dlord Mr. Freely was inform'ed thft heUlTnrt have the gig till seven j and the Grimworth people were early risers. Perhape they were more alert than usual on this par- taoular morning; for when Jacob, with a bag of sweets in U. hand, was induced to mount the gig with his brother David the inhabitants of the market-place were looking out of theii doors and windows, and at the turning of the street there was even a muster of apprentices and schoolboys, who shouted •a thqr passed in what Jacob took to be a very merry and friendly way, nodding and grinning in return. "Himay DandFaux; how's your uncle?" was their morning's grej^ ing. Like other pointed things, it was not altogether im- promptu. B"*"" ua Even this public derision was not so crushing to David aa the homble thought that though he might succeed now in getting Jacob home again, there would never be any seouritv agamat hisooming back, like a wasp to the homey-pot As long aa David Uved at Grimworth, Joooya return would be hanguig over him But could he go on Uving at Grimworth —an object nf ndioule, discarded by the Palfreys, after hav- ing reveUed iii ue consciouanesas that he was an envied and poeperouB coceotioner? David liked to be envied ; he minded leas about being loved. oimauea His doubts on thU point were aoon settled. The mind of Grimworth became obstinately set against him and hU viands, and the new school being finished, the eating-room was dosed! II there had been no other reason, sympathy with the Pal- freys, that respectable family who had lived in the parish time out of mind, would have determined aU weU-to-do peoule to decline Freely's goods. Besides, he had abscondedwith hia mother's guineas: who knew what e!s« he had done, in Jamaica or elsewhere, before he came to Grimworth, worm- >.jiitf!P'--f tm BROTHER JACOB. 43 •U boy. who Laid ir^ffJ^S * "^ ^?^ "P*"" '''"■i «"d Faux" «thqr pawed M». hoi. X^""^'^' ''~*^ "^""^ pay anytlung f^r^l-Wwill" o^M ^r T °°^ '""^'» aadhewoold beobliKed tooln if »^ ^'**'^ • •"'"■'«». Steene renewed her efforts to make I^ht .^ ■ °""* '^"• ing at last made a batoh«n.,?.n 1 ^T '""'«•■?'•«. and hav- at her withZTpfaoe^ct « he JL"il ""' *!'• ^*"''« l°°k«? "«• ery were revived in the breasts of ™!?, 1 ' ^"^ °°°^- cbL°s"rd/^~i;x' pietrpei'*" "^ --^ p- her marriage C^th »t IWlv « *I '' ."^ P«'P'«'«on for wedding ^th young W'asTtiev\"H tL"''' '"''"^ pressly for the latter occL'on Fn,^ ^ ^ '^ °""^'' "■ n.^ altered, and blu/Zl^r^a^: -f ^7 " '""'^'•'^■'"' ^"^ Ms's^hr^.tr'zifs.^^i.rsr-""^^^^ (1860.) TBS END.