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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. rata »elure. H xtx 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 i EVE II lijovci c* o nv 'iiii; Auiiioi; oi 'JOHN IlKRRING' 'KIID .sriDER' .^c. ./ jV£ll^ EDITION S i Tonboit CIIATTO C: WIXDUS, PTCCADILLY I( * \ 1 V \ % iniNTKD BY STOTTISWOODIi AMJ CO., NI.W-STRLIJT SilTARE LONUON •I CONTENTS. ni \i I. n. III. IV. V. VI. I vn. VIII. IX. X. XI. 7 XII. XIII. XIV. i XV. 'a VI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. xxir. XXIII. XXIV. XXV. '\-, XXVI. % MiKwri.r- TIIK MI n.K Mi>tiii;k . Tin: wiiisii-iuNr . i;vi,"s i;iN(i TIIK I.IMI'INii llni;>;: A nrNin.i; oi' ci, uii- > A MdllT-WArCll IIAH .... Tin; rdCKKT-r.ooK . r.Ani'.MiA's ri:nTi LEAH AND lUCUEL . AN IMP OF DAEKNESS. r.u;r. 1 1» IC. • >•_) :;i )!') II .-.1 '> i i;:. 71 si» si; ]()() 1(1? li;5 vi\ 127 v.vi ] :;s 1 (i; IVi ].v» 17;{ fv COXTENTS I 1 CIIAI'I III ^xvIr. rnni; M\ini:,-. ixviir. lATiii::; am) s in x\i\. ]ir.sii-:inNi:\ . XXX. i;iTi;\v.\r, . xxxr. cAi. I.I.I) '1 I .•.''■ i:, r xxxii. \VA\iii;i,p-(i I.;.,:!!,.; . xxxiir. Tin: ( w i.s XXXIV. Tin; iMivi;.-; xxw. ■iMi; m.\i;m i;:i.i, , XXWI. (• Nl ^..-^:IM^■.s xxxvir. •riii: I'ln; (i;- v\.v\-. \xxviir. •! AM :; I . . . xxxix. com; ! . ii,. AN' •r:;i.r. s'.cmi m ,: . M.i. A\ I ;i::ii ^)i..| v:;i; . XI.II. I SC.VW II . M.iii. ]\ A m;-,:; xr.iv. Tic:;:;: :■; . M,v. Mi:c AN!) (;•;:;.:, ;:.,,. M.vr. ' M;!;rr - \ ' M.vn. NnAiTs a:.;; . M.\ni. \:< r.M;r \i.ix. Tin: di.i) (,r\ L. ]!V Tin; iiKi: LI. A SHOT . i.ii. t;!i: win i.i; Mil. liv j.ANii:i;x-r.i(;nT . Liv. A\()Tni:u T.mi) . LV. ^^ ■ w r.vi;:;Y lo. r, k\ v. I'AOB 170 180 io;j 100 212 219 220 2;;2 2.'!!) 210 2:;1 2.'M 2(;.' 271 277 2s;5 2!I0 2!li; :;()2 .'{(IS ;!l() ;i22 .-528 y;3i :mo 317 354 357 L I'AOH 170 ISO i:i;{ 109 •-'o,-; 'J 12 219 22(! 2;;2 2;i9 210 2.n 2.").S 2(;.i 271 277 2.s;} 290 290 ;;()2 ;{io ;522 ;}28 310 317 351 357 L EVE. CHAPTER r. MOiaVELL. The river Tamar can be ascended by steamers as far as Morwell, one of tlio most picturesque points on tliat most beautiful river. There also, at a place called * New Quay,* barges discharge tlieir burdens of coal, bricks, Sec, which thence are conveyed by carts througliout the neighbour- hood. A new road, admirable as one of those of Napo- leon's construction in France, gives access to tiiis quay- a road constructed at the outlay of a Duke of Bedford, to whom belongs all the land that was once owned by tho Abbey of Tavistock. This skilfully engineered road de- scends by zigzags from tho elevated moorland on tho Devon side of tho Tamar, through dense woods of oalv and. fir, under crags of weathered rock wreathed with heather. From the summit of tho moor this road runs due north, past mine shafts and ' ramps,' or rubble heaps thrown out of the mines, and meets other roads uniting from various points under tho volcanic peak of Brent Tor, that rises in solitary dignity out of the vast moor to the height of twelve hundred feet, and is crowned by perhaps the tiniest church in England. Seventy or eightv years ago no such roads existed. The vast upland was all heather and gorse, witli tracks across it. An old quay iiad existed on tlie river, and tho 7>. 2 KVE ruins ruinaiiud of tlie buil(liii;,'s aljoiiL it frcclccl by tlio ul)l)nts of Tavistock ; but quay and ^varchousc's had fallen .'■■(o decay, and no bart^'cs came so far \\\\ the rivei'. Tho cra,L,'s on tlio Devon side of tlie 'i'anuir rise many hundred feet in sheer precipices, l)i-olan liy jijulfs i'llled •with oali coppice, heather, jind do'^wood. ]n a hollow of IIk; down, half a mile fioni the oa!: woods and cra;,'s, with an ancient yew and Spanish chcst- init before it, stood, and stands still. ^Nlorwell House, tin; lnnitinf,'-l()(l,i twenty-fourth of June, just eighty years ago, sat the tenant : a tall, gaunt man with dark liair. He was engaged cleaning liis gun, and the atmo- sphere was foul with the odour exhaled by the piece that had been recently discharged, and was now being purilied. The man was intent on his work, but neither the exertion he used, nor the warmth of a June afternoon, accounted for the drops that beaded his brow and dripped from his face. Once — suddenly — ho placed the muzzle of his gun against his right side under the rib, and with his foot touched the Icck. A quiver ran over his face, and his dim eyes were raised to the ceiling. Then there came from near his feet a feeble sound of a l.ibe giving token with its lips that it was dreaming of food. The man sighed, and looked down at a cradle that was before him. lie placed the gun betwoc-i his knees, and remained for a moment MORWl'J.L a J rate j^ii/iii;:,' at llio child's ci'il), lost in a (li-(;iiii. wifli tlio cvi'iiiii;^' Biiii Rliiiiiii!]j tliroii,L,'li tlio larL,'o window and illuuiinin;? his fiico. It Ava>< a lon,!j; faco with h'.^dit hhio cyos, in whicli hnkcd an,L,Miish mixccl with cat-hkc troafhcrj-. 'I'lio moutli was troniidons, and het rayed wcakjioss. Presently, ivcoveriiii,' liimself iVoni liis aostraction. lio laid tho f,'Pn across tho cradle, from i'i,L,'ht to left, and it rested there as a har sinister on a shield, hlack and omin- ous. His liead siinlc in jiis thin shaldn,'-.' hand.', and ho howcd over tile ei-adle. IIis teai---, or sw; .il, or tears and »?weat comliined, dropped as a salt rain upoi tho sleeping child, that gave so slight token of its proseiico All at once the door opened, and a man stood in tho yellow li.i^ht, like amediieval saint against a golden ground. He stood there a minute looking in, his eyes too dazzled to distinguisli what was within, hut he called in a hard, sharp tone, ' Jive ! where is Kve '? ' Tho man iit the cradle started up, showing at tho timo how tall ho was. IIo stood up ;is one hewildered, with his hands outspread, and looked hlankly at tho new comer. Tho latter, whose eyes wore hecoming accustomed to tho ohscurity. after a moment's pause repeated his question, *Kvo ! where is J^vo?' The tall man opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. ' Are you Ignatius -Jordan '? ' • I am,' he answered witli an efi'oi't. ' And I am E/ekiel Piahl). J am eome for mv daurdi- tor.' Ignatius .Jordan staggered back against the wall, and loaned against it with arms extended and with open palms. The window through which tho sun streamed was ancient ; it consisted of two lights with a transom, and tho sun sent the shadow of mullion and transom as a black cross against the further wall. Ignatius stood uncou- sciously spreading his arms against this shadow like a 15 2 FA'E III li !ii pliastly Clirist on his cross. Tlic stranger noticed tlio likeness, and r-aid in liis liarsli tones, ' Ii^'natins Jordan, thou liast enicirud thyself.' Then aL,Min, as he tooii a ueat iniaskt'd, ' \\\c ! Aviiere is I'.vi"? ' The j.,'enth'nian addressed answered with an elTort, * She is no ioni-^'cr liere. She is j^'onc' ' Wliat ! ' exclainud Uahh ; ' no h)n[;(.T here ? She was here last ■week. "Where is she: now ".' ' • She is gone,' said Jordan in a low tone. • (lone ! — licr child is here. When •will she return ? ' • Jleturn ! ' — with a sigji — ' never.' • Cursed be the blood that ilows in her veins ! ' shouted the new comer. ' llesiless, elTerveseing, fevered, fantastic ! It is none; of it mine, it is all her mother's.' Jle sprang to his feet and piieed the room hn'iously, witli knitted brows and clenched lists. Jordan followed him with his eye. The man was some way past the middle of life. lie was strongly and compactly built. He vvore a long dark coat and waistcoat, breeches, and blue worsted stockings. His hair was grey ; his protruding eyi'brows met over the nose. They were black, and gave a sinister expr"ssion to his face, llis prolile was strongly accentu- ated, hawklike, greedy, cruel. ' I see it all,' he said, partly to himself; * that cursed foreign blood would not sutler her to find rest even here, where there is prosperity. ^Vhat is prosperity to her? What is comfort"? ]»ah ! all her lust is after tinsel and tawdrv.' lie raised his arm and clenched list. 'A life accursed of (iod ! Of old our forefathers, under the righteous Cromwell, rose up and swept all profanity out of the land, the jesters, and the carol singers, and theatrical performers, and pipers and tund)lers. Ihit they returned again to torment the elect. What saitli the Scripture ? !Make no marriage with the heathen, else shall ye be un- clean, ye and your children.' lie reseated himself. ' Ignatius Jordan,' he said, * I was mad and wicked when I took her mother to wife ; 111 i M ORWELL 5 pikI a mad and wiclccd tliiiii,' you ditl wlicn you took tlio diui.^'litcr. As I saw you just now — as I sco you at i)ro- gciit — stnudiii'j: Avitli spread anus a.Lrainst tlio black sliadow cross I'roui tho Avindow, I thou.^dit it was a li.^'uro of wliat you clioso for your lot when you took my Mvo. I crucified mysi'lf when I married her iuother, and now the iron enters your side.' lie paused; he v.as point- ing at Ipiatius with out-thrust iin<(cr, and the shadow seemed to enter li^natius against tho wall. 'The hlood that begins to How will not cease to run till it has all run out.' Again he paused. The arms of Jordan fell. • So she has left you,' muttered tho stranger, ' she has gone back to the world, to its pomps and vanities, its lusts, its lies, its laughter. Gone back to the players and dan- cers.' Jordan nodded ; lie could not spealc. ' Dead to every call of duty,' Babb contiiuied with a scowl on his brow, ' dead to everything but the cravings of a cankered heart ; dead to tho love of lawful gain ; alive to wantonness, and music, and glitter, bit dowi , and I will tell you the story of my folly, and you shall I'll mo tho tale of yours.' lie looked imperiously at Jordan, who sank into his chair beside the cradle. 'I will light my pipe.' Ezekiel Babb struck a light with Hint and steel. ' We have made a like cx^^ erienco, I with the mother, you with tho daughter. "Why aro you downcast ? Bejoice if she has set you free. Tho mother never did that for mc. Did you marry her? ' The pale man opened his mouth, and spread out, then clasped, his hands nervously, but said nothing. ' I am not deaf that I should bo addressed in signs,' said Babb. * Did you marry my daughter ? ' • No.' ' The face of heaven was turned on you,' said Babb discontentedly, * and not on me. I committed myself, and could not break off the yoke. I married.' Ill III! Mil I !!| 6 rvE Tlio child ill tlin cradlo l)cgan to stir. Jordan rocked it \vith his foot. 'I will toll you all,' the visitor continued. ' I was a young nuin when I ih'st saw Eve — not your Eve, but her mother. I had gone into Totnes, and I stood by the cloth market at the gate to the church. It was the great fair- day. There were performei's in the open space before tlio market. I had seen nothing like it before. What was performed I do not recall. I saw only her. I thought her richly, beautifully drt ssed. Her beauty shone forth above all. She had hair like chestnut, and brown eyes, a clear, thin skin, and was fcjrmed delicately as no girl of this country and stoek. I knew she was of foreign blood. A carpet was laid in tlie nuirket-place, and she danced on it to music. It was like a ihmio flickering, not a girl dancing She looked at me out of her large eyes, and 1 loved her. It was witchcraft, the Avorlc of the devil. The lire went out of her eyes and burnt to my marrow ; it ran in my veins. That was wiu-heraft, but I did not think it then. There should Ikiao been a heap of wood laised and fu'ed, and she cast into the ilames. Ihit our lot is fallen in evil days. The word of the Eord is no longer precious, and the Lord has said, " Thou shalt not suifer a witch to live."' That was witchcraft. How else was it that I gave no thought to Tamsine J>ovt\v, of Ihnicombe, till it was too late, thougli Ihnicombe joins my land, aiul so Liuncombe was lost to me for ever? Quiet tluit eliild if you want to hear more, llah ! Your Eve has deserted you and her babe, but mine had not the good heart to leave me.' The child in the cradle whimpered. The pale man lifted it out, got milk and fed it, with trembling hand, but tenderly, and it dozed olf in his arms. ' A girl ? ' asked Labb. Jordan nodded. * Anotlier Eve — a third Eve ? ' Jordan nodded again. 'Another generation of furious, liery blood to work con- fusion, to breed desolation. When will the earth open her MO R WELL niouili unci s^Yullow it up, lliat it delilo no more the liabi- tatioHS of Israel '? ' Jordan drew the child to his heart, and j-rcssed it so passionately that it -woke and cried. ' Still tlie child or I -will leave the house,' said Ezekiel llahb. ' You would do well to throw a wet cloth over its nioutli, and let it smother itself before it work woo on you and others. When it is cpiiet, I will proceed.' lie paused. AVhen the cries ceased he went on: 'I watched l-^ve as she danced. I could not leave ihe spot. Then a rope was fastened and stretched on ]ii,L,di, and sh(> was to walk that. A false btep would have dashed lu^r to the .t^TOund. I could not bear it. When her foot was k)\\ the ladder, I uttered a ,u;reat cry and ran forward ; I cauglit her, I would not let her go. I was young then.' lie remained silent, smok- ing, and looking frowniiigly before him. 'I was not a converted man then. Afterwards, when the word of (iod was precious to me, and I .,aw that I might have had Tam- siiio llovey, and Ihmcombe, then I was sorry and ashamech Ihit it was too late. The eyes of tlie unrighte^ous are sealed. I was a fool. I married that dancing girl.' lie Vvas silent again, and looked moodily at his pipe. ' I have let the lire die out,' he said, and rekindled as before. ' I cannot deny that she was a good wife. Ihit what availed it mo to have a woman in tlu' house who could dance like a feather, and could not make scald cream ".* AVliat use to me a wonum who brought the voice of a nightingaUs with her into the liouse, but no monev ? Sho knew nothing of the work of a household. She had bones like those of a pigeon, there was no sir hglh in them. I had to hire women to do her work', and fcdie was t.hriftless and thoughtless, so the money went oui when it should have come in. Then sho l)ore me a daughter, and the witchery was not off me, so I called her live — that is your J'ive, and after that sho gave me sons, and then ' — angrily — ' then, when too late, she died. Why did she not dio lialf a year before Tams'iic 13ovey married Joseph Warm- :i I ill; I 1| I ; 1 I I' ! 8 EVE iiigton ? If sliG had, I might still have got Buncombe — now it is gone, gone for ever.' lie knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and put it into his pocket. ' Eve was her mother's darling ; she was brought up like a heathen to love play and pleasure, not work and duty. The child sucked in her mother's nature with her mother's milk. When the mother died, Eve — your Eve — was a grown girl, and I suppose home became unendurable to her. One day some play actors passed through the place on their way from Exeter, and gave a performance in our village. I found that my daughter, against my command, went to see it. "When she came home, I took her into the room where is my great Bible, and I beat her. Then she ran away, and I saw no more of her ; whether she went after the play actors or not I never inquired. ' ' Did you not go in pursuit ? ' ' Why should I ? She would have run away again. Time passed, and the other day I chanced to come across a large party of strollers, when I was in Plymouth on busi- ness. Then I learned from the manager about my child, and so, for the first time, heard where she was. Now tell me liow she came here.' Ignatius Jordan raised himself in his chair, and swept back the hair that had fallen over his bowed face and hands. ' It is passed and over,' he said. • Let me hear all. I must know all,' said Babb. ' She is my daughter. Thanks be, that we are not called to task for tlio guilt of our children. The soul that sinneth it shall surclv die. She had li.^lit and truth set before her on one side as surely as she had darkness and lies on the other, Kbal and Gerizim, and she went after Ebal. It was in her blood. She drew it of her mother. One vessel is for honoar such am I ; another for dishonour — such are all the Eves from the first to the last, that in your arms, Vopsds of wrath, orduined to be broken. Ah! you may I 1 MORWELL it into I clierisli that little creature in your arms. You may strain it to your heart, you may wrap it round with love, but it is in vain that you seek to save it, to shelter it. It is way- ward, wanton, wicked clay ; ordained from eternity to be broken. I stood between the first Eve and the sliattorin^i,' that should have come to her. That is the cause of all my woes. Where is the second Eve ? Broken in soul, broken may-be in body. There lies ilie tliird, ordained to bo broken.' lie folded his arms, v/as silent a while, and then said : ' Tell me your tale. IIow came my daugliter to your house ? ' CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE MOTIIEll. 'Last Christmas twelvemonth,' said Ignatius Jordan slowly, ' I was on the moor — Morwell Down it is called. Night was falling. The place — where the road comes along over the down, from Boer Alston and Beer Ferris. I dare say you came along it, you took boat from Bly- mouth to Beer Ferris, and thence tlie way runs — the packmen travel it — to the north to Launceston. It was stormy weather, and the snow drove hard ; the wind was so high that a man might hardly face it. I heard cries for help. I found a party of players who were on their way to Launceston, and were caught by the storm and darkness on the moor. They had a sick girl with them ' llis voice broke doAvn. * Eve ? ' asked Ezekiel Babb. Jordan nodded. After a pause he recovered him: elf and went on. * She could walk no further, and tlie party was distressed, not knowing whither to go or wh;it to do. I invited them to come here. The house is large enough to hold a score of people. Next day I set them on their way forward, as they were pressed to be at Launceston for the Christmas holidays. But the girl was too ill to lO EVE ;,ji'! ''II ii !! ill ill proccctl, and I offered t(3 let lier remain here till she re- covered. After a week liad passed tlie actors sent hero from Launeeston to learn how she was, and whether slie could rejoin them, as they were goin^ forward to Bodmin, hut she wa^ not sulliciently recovered. Then a month later, they sent again, but though she was better I would not let her go. After that we heard no more of tlio players. So she renuiined at ]\lorwell, anabb stooped over the cradle and plucked out the child. lie held it in the sunlight streaming through the window, and looked hard at it. Then he danced it up and down with a scolling laugli. ' See, see ! ' he cried ; ' see how the creature rejoices and throws forth its arms. Look at the shadow on tho wall, as of a Salamander swaying in a ilood of tire. Ila ! I'^-e— blood ! wanton blood ! I will crucify thee too ! ' lie raised the babe aloft against the blade cross made by the shadow of the nndhoii and transom, as the child had thrown up its tiny arms. ' See,' ho exclaimed, ' tlie cliild hangs also ! ' Ignatius Jordan seized the babe, snatched it away from the rude grasp of 15a bl), clasped it passionately to his breast, and covered it with kisses. Then he gently re- placed it, crowing and smiling, in its cradle, and rocked it witli I'is foot. ' Vuu fool!' said Babb; 'you love the strange blood in spite of its fickleness and falseness. I will tell you something further. When I heard from the players that Kve was here, at Morwell, I did not come on at once, because I had business that called me home. But a fortnight after I came over Dartmoor to Tavistoek. I did not come, as you supposed, up the river to Beer Ferris aniirbara, 'see little T^ve ; slie in daiicin.i,' and sin,L,Mn,!,'.' ' Dancin,!,' and sin^L,dn,i^! ' echoed ]-!/.ekiel r>al)l), ' that irf all she ever will do. She comes dancing,' and sin,^in<; into the •world, and she will po dancin^,' and sin,!;Mn,c,' out of it — and then — then,' ho brushed his hand throucrh tlu^ air, f\.>i though drawing back a veil. The girl-mn'so looked at the threatening old man witli alarm. ' Keep the creature quiet,' he said impatiently ; ' I can- not sit here and sec the ngly, evil siglit. Dancing and singing! she begins like her mother, and her mother's mother. Take her away, the siglit of her stirs my bile.' At a sign from the father r)arl)ara ro:^e, and carried the child out of the room, talking to it fondly, and a joyous chirp from the little one was the last sound that I'eached ].)abb's cars as the door shut behind them. ' Xaught but evil has the foreign blood, the tossing fever-blood, brought me. First it can^c without a dower, and tiiat wjis like original sin. Then it prevented me from marrying Tamsino ]»ovey and getting JUmcombe. That was like sin of malice. Now Tamsino is dead and her husband, Joseph Warmington, wants to sell. I did not want Tamsinc, but I wanted Buncombe ; at one time I could not see how Buncombe was to be had without Tam- sinc. Now the property is to be sold, and it joins on to mine as if it belonged to it. What Heaven has joined to- gether let not man put asunder. It was wicked witchcraft stood in the way of my getting my rightful own.' * How could it be your rightful own ? ' asked Ignatius ; • was Tamsinc Bovey your kinswoman ? ' ' Mo, she was not, but she ought to have been my wife, and so lUmcombo have come to mo. I seem as if I could sjc into the book of the Lord's ordinance that so it was written. There's some wonderful good soil in Buncombe. I v ^ U'.v Tin: LITTLE MOTHER (lcli,u;lit. ; she in ' tliiit i^-' ^hi,!,' into t of it— jiiv, a^^ L'd at the ; ' I caii- •iii.u; and mntlior's ;lir^ my rried tlio a joyous ; reached lossiii,i2j a dower, le iVoiu Tliat and liov did not time I ut Ta.m- ns on to Dined to- itclieraft gnatius ; my ^Yife, f I could it was mcombe. * r>ut the Devil allured me with lii.-^ l-'ve, and I was l:e- witched by her beautiful eyes and little hands and feet. Cursed be the day that shut me out of Ihnicombe. ('ursed be the strange blood that ran as a dividing river l)ii ween Owlacombe and ]5uneond)e, and cut asunder what Trovi- dtiice ordained to be one. I tell you,' ho went on fiercely, • that so long as all thnt land remains another's and not mine, so long shall I feel only gull, nnd no pity nor love, for ]'lve, and all v.ho have issucMl i '^w\ her— for all who inherit her name and blood. T curse ' his voice roso to a roar, and his gri'y hair bristled li]:e the fell of a wolf, * I curse them all with ' The pale man, Jordan, rushed at him and thrust ]ii>? liund over his mouth. 'Curse not,' he said vehemently; then in !i subdued tone. ' Listen to reason, and you will feel ])ity and love for my little one who inherits the name and blood of your ]'iVe. 1 have laid by money : I am in no want. It shall be the portion of my little b^ve, and I will lend it you for seventeen years. This day, the 21lh of June, seventeen years hence, you shall repay mc the whole sum without interest. I am not a Jew to lend on usurv. I shall want the money then for my Eve, as her dower, ^lic '■ — ho held up his head for a moment — * she shall not be portioidess. In the meantime take and use the moncv, and when you walk over the lields you have purchased with it, — bless tho name.' A flush came in the sallow face of Ezekiel Labb. IFo rose to his feet and held out his hand. ' You will lend me the money, two thousand pounds ? ' * I will lend you fifteen hundred.' ' I will swear to repay the sum in seventeen years. You shall have a mortgage.' 'On this day.' ♦ This 2itli day of June, so help mo God.' A ray of orange light, smiting through the wmdow, was falhng high up the wall. The hands of the men met in the beam, and the reflection was cast on their faces, — on the i J ,1 ill 'I i I ' : liii i6 EVE dark Imrd face of Ezoldd, on the \vliitG quivering face of Ignatius. • And you Lloss,' said the hitter, 'you bless the name of Eve, and the l)h3od tliat foHows it.' ' I bh'ss. Peace be to the restless blood.' . CHAPTER III. THI-: ^VHIS1I-HUNT. On a wild and blustering evening, seventeen years after the events related in the two preceding chapters, two girls were out, in Hpitcof th" fierce wind and gatheringdarkness, in alittle gig that accommodated only two, the body perched on very largo and elastic springs. At every jolt of the wheels the l)ody bounced and swayed in a manner likely to trouble a bad sailor. ]Ui the girls were used to the motion of the vehicle, an . to tlie badness of the road. They drove a very sober cob, wlio went at his leisure, picking his way, seeing ruts in spite of the darkness. The moor stretched in uid)roken desolation far away on all sides but one, where it dropped to the gorge of the Tamar, but the presence of this dividing valley could only be guessed, not perceived by the crescent moon. The dis- tant Cornish moorland range of Ilingston and the dome of Kit Hill seemed to belong to the tract over which the girls were driving. These girlo were Barbara and Eve Jordan. They had been out on a visit to some neighbours, if those can bo called neighbours who lived at a distance of five miles, and were divided from Morwell by a range of deso- late moor. They had spent the day with their friends, and were returning home later than they had intended. ' I do not know what father would say to our being abroad so late, and in the dark, unattended,' said Eve, ♦ were he at home. It is well he is away.' ' lie would rebuke me, not you,' said Barbara. I f ing faco of ic name of years after I, two girls ,' tlarkiiess, ly perched olt of the jr likely to C(l to the the road, is leisure, less. ir away on go of the could only The dis- le dome of 1 the girls /e Jordan. s, if those ice of five j;e of deso- iends, and td. our being said Eve, I THE WIIISII-IIVNT 17 ' Of course ho would ; you are the elder, and respon- sible.' • Jjut I yielded to your persuasion.' * Yes, 1 like to enjoy myself when I may. It is vastly dull at Morwell, Tell me, Bal), did I look well in my figured dress ? ' 'Charming, darling; you always are that.' ' You are a sweet sister,' said J'Lve, and she put her arm round ]5arbara, who was driving,. Mr. Jordan, tl:f'ir father, was tenant of the ])uke of Dedlbrd. The Jordans were the oldest tenants on tho estate which had come to the llussellson the se(|uestration of tho abbey. The Jordans had been tenants under tho abbot, and they remained on after tho change of religion and owners, without abandoning their religion or losing their position. The Jordans were not accounted squires, but were reckoned as gentry. They held ^Morwell on long leases of ninety-nine years, regularly renewed when tho leases lapsed. They regarded jMorwell House almost as their freehold ; it was bound up with all their family tradi- tions and associations. As a vast tract of country round belonged to the duke, it was void of landed gentry residing on their estates, and the only families of education and birth in the district were those of the parsons, but the diil'ercnco in religion formed a barrier against intimacy with these. ]Mr. Jordan, more- over, was living under a cloud. It w;i.s well-known througli- out the country that he had not been married to I'lve's mother, and this had caused a cessation of visits to Mor- well. ]\ioreover, since the dis;i.ppearancc of Eve's mother, ]\Ir. Jordan had become morose, reserved, and so peculiar in his manner, that it was doubted whether he were in his right mind. Like ]nany a small country squire, he farmed tho estate himself. At one time he had been accounted an active farmer, and was credited with having made a great deal of money, but for the last seventeen years he had "-m M I II 't! I tl 1:'! I' I I l8 EV£: neglected agriculturo a good deal, to devote himself to minerulogic?il researches. IIo was convinced that the rocks were full of veins of metal — silver, lead, and copper, and ho occupied himself in searching for the metals in the v/ood, and on the moor, sinking pits, breaking stones, "wasliing and melting what he found. lie believed that ho would come on some vein of almost pure silver or copper, which would make his fortune. Bitten with this craze, he neglected his farm, whicli would have gone to ruin had not his eldest daughter, Barbara, taken tho management into her own hands. Mr. Jordan was quite right in believing that he lived on rocks rich with metal : the whole land is now honey- combed with shafts and adits : but ho made the mistake in thinking that he could gather a fortune out of th.e rocks unassisted, armed only with his own hammer, drawing only out of his own purse. His knowledge of chemistry and mineralogy was not merely elementary, but incorrect ; lie read old books of science mixed up with tho fantastic alchemical notions of the middle ages, believed in the sympathies of the planets with metals, and in tho virtues of the divining rod. ' Does a blue or a rose ribbon suit my hair best, Bab ? ' asked Eve. ' You see mv hair is chestnut, and I doubt me if pink suits the colour no well as forget-me- not.' ' Every ribbon of every hue agrees with Eve,' said Barbara. • You arc a darling.' The younger girl made an attempt to kiss her sister, in return for the compliment. * B(? careful,' said Barbara, ' you will upset tho gig.' • But I love you so much when you are kind.' * Am not I alvvays kind to you, dear '? ' ' yes, but sometimes much kinder than at others.' * That is, when I flatter you.' • if you call it flattery ' said Eve, pouting. *No — it is plahi truth, my dearest.' 77//; U'HISH-HUNT J9 tlio ' Bab,' broke forth tlio younger suddenly, ' do you not (liink Bradstono a (•llarmin,^' lioupo? It is not so dull an ours.' * And the Cloberrys— you like iliem ? * ' W^, dear, very nmeli.' ' J)() you believe lliiii story about Oliver Cloberry, the page ? ' '^Vllat story -r ' Tliat uhich Ciraco Cloberry toU me.' ' I was not Avilli you in the la'-.-s wlieu you were talk- ing,' top'clhcr. I do not know it.' ' Then I will tell you. Listen, Bab, and shiver.' ' I am shivering in the cold wind already.' * Siiiver inoi'e siiiveringly still. 1 am going to curdle your blood.' ' Go on Willi the siory, but do ;;ot sfiueezc up against lue so close, or I shall be pushed out of the gig.' ' Jiut, Bab, 1 am IViuditened to tell the tale.' * Then do not tell it.' ' I want to frighten vou.' ' You are verv considerate.' ' We share all things, Bab, even our terrors. I am a loving sister. Once I gave you the measles. I was luo selfisli to keep it all to myself. Are you ready ? Grace told me that Oliver Cloberry, the eldest son, was page boy to John Copplestone, of Warleigh, in Queen Elizabeth's reign, you know — wicked Queen Bess, who put so many Catholics to death. Squire Copplestone was his godfather, but he did not like the boy, though he was his godchild and page. The reason was this : he was much attached to Joan Hill, who refused him and married Squire Clo- berry, of Bradstone, instead. The lady tried to keep friendly with her old admirer, and asked him to stand god- father to her first boy, and then take him as his page ; but Copplestone was a man who long bore a grudge, and the boy grew up the image of his father, and so — Copple- stone hnted him. One day. when Copplestone was going ( _ R !ii
  • d up ; the hoy, afraid at what ho had said, turned to go, then Copplestono threw his hunting dagger at him, and it struck him in the back, entered his heart, and he fell dead. Do vou believe this story, Bab ? ' ' There is some truth in it, I know. Prince, in his ""Worthies," says that Copplestono only escaped losing his head for the murder by tlie surrender of thirteen manors.' ' That is not all,' hive continued ; ' now comes the creepy part of the story. Grace Cloberry told me that every stormy night the Wliish Hounds run over the downs, breathing hre, pursuing Copplestono, from Warleigh to Bradstonc, and that the murdered boy is mounted behind Copplestono, and stabs hiri in the back all along the way. Do you believe this ? ' ' Most assuredly not.' ' "Why shoui'l you not, Bab ? Don't you think that a man like Coppi>_'.stone would he unable to rest in his grar'e ? Would not that be a terrible purgatory for him to bo hunted night after night ? Grace told mo that old Squire Cloberry rides and blows his horn to ecrt^-on the Wliish Hounds, and Copplestono has a black horse, and he strikes spurs into its sides when the boy stabs him in the back, and screams with pain. When the Judgment Day comes, then only will his rides be over. I am sure I believe it all, Bab. It is so horrible.' 'It is altogether false, a foohsh superstition.' DUllg Clo- .iro raised in a rago ' the boy. L tlio boy pplostoiie ^vt■^G not did well stood by afraid at threw his he back, ievG this c, in his }d losing thirteen imes tlic mo that e downs, ■leigh to 1 behind the way. i that a s gra^;e ? n to be [ Squire i Whish e strikes le back, ^ comes, VQ it all, THE WHISH-HUNT 21 'Look there, do you see, Bab, we are at the white stone with the cross cut in it that my father put up where he first saw my mother. Is it not strange that no one knows whence my mother came? You remember her just a little. Whither did my mother go '/ ' ' I do not know, Eve.' 'There, agarn, Bab. You who sneer and toss your chin when I speak of anything out of the ordinary, nnist admit this to be passing wonderful. :\Iy mother came, no one knows whence; she went, no one knows whither. After that, is it hard to believe in the Whish Hounds, and Black Copplestone ? ' ' The things are not to bo compared.' ' Your mother was buried at Buckland, and I have seen her grave. You know tliat her body is there, and that her soul is in heaven. But as for mine, I do not even know whether she had a human soul.' ' Eve ! What do you mean ? ' ♦ I have read and heard tell of such things. She may have been a wood-spirit, an elf-maid. Whoever she was, whatever she was, my lather loved her. He loves her still! I can sec that. He seems to me to have her ever in his thoughts.' ' Yes,' said Barbara sadly, * he never visits my mother's grave ; I alone care for the flowers there.' 'I can look into his heart,' said Eve. ' lie loves me so dearly because he loved my mother dearer still.' Barbara made no remark to this. Then Eve, in her changeful mood, went back to the former topic of conversation. ' Think, think, Bab ! of Black Copplestone ridin- nightly over these wastes on his black mare, with her tail . streammg behind, and the little page standin- on the crupper, stabbmg, stabbing, stal)l)ing ; and tlio Whish Hounds behmd, giving tongue, and Squire Cloberry in the rear urgnig them on with his horn. ]',ab' lam Bure father believes in this. I should die of fear were J' '1' ,,fli I !l: ■I ill iiili '' Hi nil 1 li. ::2 AFii" ('o[)[)lcsioiio limited Ly (l()p,.s to pass this ^vay. Hold! llavlc ! ' slio almost scroanied. The -svind was bdiiiid tlidii ; they licard a call, then tlio tramp of horses' fccf. Barbara even v/as for the moment startled, and drew tlio gig aside, off tin* ronfl n]ion , then rei)laeed the book and proceeded with tbo nn- dressint,'. ^Vht n Jasper was divested of liis clothes, and laid at his ease in the bed, bis liead propped on pillows, Martin went to the door and called the girls, lie was greatly agitated, ] Barbara observed it. His lower lip trembled. Kve bung back in llie kitelun, she could not return. Martin said in c ager tones, ' I have done for bim all I can, now I am in haste to bo oil'.' ' lUit,' remonstrated ]»arbara, ' he is your brother.' ' My brother ! ' laughed ]\Iartin. ' lie is no relation of mine. He is naught to me and 1 am naught to bim.' ' You called him your brother.' ' That was tartamount to conn'ade. All sons of Adam arc brothers, at least in misfortune. 1 do not even know the fellow's name,' ' ^Vby,' said Barbara, ' this is very strange, l^ou call him Jasper, and he named you Martin.' 'Ah!' said the num hesitatingly, * wo arc cbancc travellers, riding along the same road. XL asked my name and 1 gave it bim — my surname. I am a Mr. Mar- tin — bo mistook me ; and in exchange be gave me his Christian name. That is bow I knew it. If anyone asks i I I THE LIMPJXG HORSE 33 tl Barbara, mo in tlio •vice' ^', as I can- ,lio serviiif^ I will call, iirust Jane rctunictl to 'iitly, ^vilh ftiii f( It ill ockct-bnok. () his own til tlio un- and laid at iws, Martin vas greatly trembled, urn. him all I other.' relation of him.' IS of Adam even know You call ro chance asked my Mr. Mar- ve me his lyono asks about this event, you can say that Mr. Martin passed this wav ai ' halted awhile at your house, on his road to Tavi- stock. • You arc p;oing to Tavistock ? ' • Yes, that is my destination.' ' In that case I will not seek to detain you. Call up Doctor Crooke and send him iiere.' • I will do so. You furnish me with an additional motive for liasto to depart.' • Go,' said Barbara. ' God grant the poor man may not die.' •Die! pshaw! die!' exclaimed !^^artin. 'Men aren't such brittle ware as that pretty sister of yours. A fall from a liorse don't kill a man. If it did, fox-huntin;^ would not be such a popular sport. To-morrow, or the day after, Mr. Jasper AVhat's-his-namc will be on his feet again. Hush ! What do I hear ? ' Ilis cheek turned pale, but Barbara did not see it ; ho kept his face studiously away from t)ie ligiit. ' Your horse which you hitched up outside neighed, that is all.' ' That is a great deal. It would not neigh at notliing.' lie went out. Barbara told the maid to stay by the sick man, and went after Martin, She thought that in all probability the boy had arrived driving the gig. Martin stood irresolute in the doorway. The liorse that had borne the injured man had been brought into the courtyard, and hitched up at the hall door. Martin looked across the quadrangle. The moon was shining into it. A yellow glimmer came from the sick porter's window over the great gate. The large gate was arched, a laden waggon might pass under it. It was unprovided with doors. Through it the moonlight could be seen on the paved ground in front of the old lodge. A sound of horse- hoofs was audible approaching slowly, uncertainly, on the stony ground ; but no wheels. 34 F.VE It Mil lil.lli riv' ,l;j'ip ';ii>'l. illll m %\ 'I II IS ■ii i: 'What can the boy linvo doiio with our gig?' askecl Barbara. ' Will you be quiet ? ' oxclaimecl Martin angrily. ' I protest — you arc trembhng,' she said. ']\Iay]iot a man sliivor when he is cold?' nnswcrcd the mail, She saw him shrink back into tho shadow of the entrance as something a;tpearcd in the moonlight outside the gntchouse, indistinctly seen, movi ig strangely. Again the horse neiglicd. They saw the figure come on haltingly out of the light into the blackness of the shadow of the gate, pass through, and emerge into the moonlight of the court. Then both saw that tho lame horse that had been dcsei'ted on the moor had followed, limping and slowly, as it was in pain, after the otlier horse. Barbara went at once to the poor beast, saying, ' I will put you in a stall,' but in another moment slie returned with a bundle in her hand. ' What have vou tliorc ? ' asked Martin, who was mounting his horse, pc'nting with his whip to what she carried. ' I found this strapped to the saddle.' ' Give it to me.' ' It does not belong to you. It belongs to the other — to Jasper.' ' Let me look through the bundle ; perhaps by that means we may discover his name.' * I will examine it when you arc gone. I will not detain you ; ride on for the doctor.' ' I insist on having that bundle,' said Martin. ' Give it me, or I will strike you.' He raised his whip. ' Only a coward would strike a woman. I will not give you the bundle. It is not yours. As you said, this man Ji^sper is naught to you, nor you to him.' ' I will have it,' he said with a curse, and stooped from the saddle to wrench it from her hands. Barbai'a was too thf: limpixg horse 35 ?' asked nnswcrc'l .V of the :t outside y- the light ; through, had been 5lowly, as I; ^vont at !i a stall,' ilo in her who was what she D other — by that will not ' Give will not ;aid, this Ded from was too quick for hin ; she stepped back into the doorway and slammed the door upon him, and bolted it. He uttered an ugly oath, then turned and rode through ihc courtyard. ' After all,' ho said, ' what does it matter? "We v.-cre fools not to be rid of it before.' As he passed out of the gatehouse, he saw Eve in the moonliglit, approaching timidly. ' You must give me back my ring ! ' she pleaded ; * you ha'-'e no right to keep it.' ' Must I, Beauty? Where is the compulsion?' ' Indeed, indeed vou must.' ' Then I will — but not now ; at some day in the future, when we meet again.' ' give it me now ! It belonged to my mother, and slic is dead.' ' Come ! "Wliat will you give mo for it ? Another kiss ? ' Then from close by burst a peal of impish laughter, and the boy bounded out of the shadow of a yew tree into the moonlight. * IIoUoo, Martin ! alv.'ays hanging over a pretty face, detained by it when you should bo galloping. I've upset the gi,?; and broken it ; give mc my place again on tho crupper.' He ran, leaped, and in an instant was behind ]\Iartin. The horse bounded away, and Eve heard the clatter of the hoofs as it galloped up tho lane to tho moor. CHAPTER VI. A BUNDLE OF CLGTIir.??. Barbara Jordan r,at by the side man with her knitting on her lap, and her eyes fixed on his iacc. Ho was asleep, and tho sun would have shone full on him had she not drawn a red curtain across the window, which subdued D S w, II iii: „-. l! A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 39 that a smile came involuntarily to her lips. She was being repaid in her own coin. The smile encouraged him to speak. ' IIow long have I been hero ? ' ' Four days.' ' Have I been very ill ? ' • Yes, insensible, sometimes rambling.' • What made me ill ? What ails my head ? ' He put his hand to the bandages. ' You have had a fall from your horse.' He did not speak for a moment or two. His thoughts moved slowly. After a while he asked, * Where did I lull ? ' ' On the moor — Morwcll Down.' • I can remember nothing. When was it ? ' ' Four days ago.' • Yes — you have told me so. I forgot. My head is not clear, there is singing and spinning in it. "^'o-day is ?' • To-day is Monday.' ' What day was that— four days ago ? ' ' Thursday.' ' Yes, Thursday. I cannot think to reckon backwards. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I can go on, but not back- ward. It pains me. I can recall Thursday.' He sighed and turned his head to the wall. ' Thursday night — yes. I remember no more.' After a vdiile he turned his head round to Barbara and asked, ' Where am I now ? ' ' At Morwell House.' He asked no more questions for a quarter of an hour. He was taking in and turning over the information he had received. He lay on his back and closed his eyes. His face was very pale, like marble, but not like marble in this, that across it travelled changes of expression that stirred the muscles. Do what she would Barbara couid not keep her eyes oif him. The horrible mystery about the man, I ' ::ii;i I ! illi I Mil ii ll!l 'ill 40 EVE the lie given to her thoughts of him by his face, forced her to observe him. Presently he opened his eyes, and met hers ; she re- coiled as if smitten with a guilty feeling at her heart. ' You have always been with me whilst I was uncon- cious and rambling,' he said earnestly. ' I have been a great deal with you, but not always The maid, Jane, and an old woman who comes in occa- sionally to char have shared with me the task. You have not been neglected.' • I know well when you have been by me — and when you have been away. Sometimes I have felt as if I lay on a bank with wild thyme under me ' • That is because we put thyme with our linen,' said the practical Barbara. He did not notice the explanation, but went on, ' And the sun shone on my face, but a pleasant air fanned me. At other times all was dark and hot and miserable. ' That was according to the stages of your illness.' • No, I think I was content when you were in the room, and distressed when you were away. Some persons exert a mesmeric power of soothing.' • Sick men get strange fancies,' said Barbara. He rose on his elbow, and held out his hand. • I know that I owe my life to you, young lady. Allow me to thank you. My life is of no value to any but myself. I have not hitherto regarded it much. Now I shall esteem it, as saved by you. I thank you. May I touch your hand ? ' He took her fingers and put them to his lips. • This hand is firm and strong,' he said, • but gentle as the wing of a dove.' She coldly withdrew her fingers. • Enough of thanks,' she said bluntly. * I did but my duty.' • Was there ' he hesitated — ' anyone with me when I was found, or was I alone ? ' ' There were two— a man and a boy.' l\ v.t" A BUNDLE OF CLOTHES 41 irced her she re- irt. 3 uncon- always in occa- ou have id when I lay on m,' said 1, ♦ And tied me. s.' B room, IS exert Allow myself, esteem land ? ' title as ut my when His face became troubled. He began a question, then let it die \n his mouth, began another, but could not bring it to an end. ' And they — where are they ? ' he asked at length. ' That one called Martin brought you here.' * He did ! ' exclaimed Jasper, eagerly. ' That is — he assisted in bringing you here.' Barbara was so precise and scrupulous about truth, that she felt herself obliged to modify her first assertion. ' Then, when he saw you safe in our hands, he left you.' ' Did he — did he say anything about me ? ' ' Once — but that I suppose was by a slip, he called you brother. Afterwards he asserted that you were nothing to h'm, nor he to you.' 5,v Jasper's face was moved with painful emotions, but it '^% soon cleared, and he said, ' Yes, I am nothing to him — no- thing. He is gone. He did well. I was, as he said — and he spoke the truth — nothing to him.' Then, hastily, to turn the subject, ' Excuse me. Where am I now ? And, young lady, if you will not think it rude of me to inquire, who are you to whom I owe my poor hfe ? ' ' This, as I have already said, is Morwell, and I am the daughter of the gentleman who resides in it, Mr. Ignatius Jordan.' He fell back on the bed, a deadly greyness came over his face, he raised his hands : • My God ! my God ! this is most wonderful. Thy ways are past finding out.' ' What is wonderful ? ' asked Barbara. He did not answer, but partially raised himself again in bed. ' Where are my clothes ? ' ho asked. ' Which clothes ? ' inquired Barbara, and her voice was hard, and her expression became stern. Slio hesitated for a moment, then went to the chest and drew forth the suit that had been rolled up on the pommel of the saddle; also that which he had worn when he met with the acci- :B iii !*'i -n m 42 /■iv: dent. Sho held cne in each hand, and returned to tho bed. * Which ? ' sho asked gravely, fixing her eyes on him. He looked from one to the other, and his pale faco turned a chalky white. Thou ho said in a low tremulous tone, * I want my waistcoat.* She gave it him. Ho felt eagerly about it, drew tho pocket-bock from tho breast-pocket, opened it and fell back. * Gone ! ' he moaned, * gone ! ' The garment dropped from his fingers upon the floor; his eyes became glassy and fixed, and scarlet spots of colour formed in his cheeks. After this he became feverish, and tossed in his bed, put his hand to his brow, plucked at the bandages, asked for water, and his pulse quickened. Towards evening lie seemed conscious that his senses were slipping beyond control. He called repeatedly for the young lady, and Jane, who attended him then, was obliged to fetch Barbara. The sun was setting when she came into the room. She despatched Jane about some task that had to be done, and, coming to the side of tlio bed, said in a constrained voice, ' Yes, what do you require '? I am here.' He lifted himself. His eyes were glowing with fever ; lie put out his hand and clasped her wrist ; his hand was burning. His lips quivered ; his face was full of a fiery eagerness. ' I entreat you ! you are so good, so kind ! You have surprised a secret. I beseech you let no one else into it — no one have a suspicion of it. I am hot. I am in a fever. I am afraid what I may say when others are by me. I would go on my knees to you could I rise. I pray you, I pray you ' he put his hands together, * do not leave me if I become delirious. It is a hard thing to ask. I have no claim on you ; but I fear. I would have none but you know what I say, and I may say strange things if ^v. A nUXDLE OF CLOTHES 43 1 to tho 1 him. )ale faco emulous Irew the and fell he floor; spots of his bed, IS, asked [S senses ;edly for icn, was le room, be done, istrained -h fever ; and was I a fiery ou have ilse into I am in 3 are by I pray *do not % to ask. ve none hings if my mind becomes deranged with fever. You feel my hand, is it not like a red-hot-coal ".' You know that I am likely to wander. Stay by me — in pity — in mercy — for the love of God— for the love of God ! ' His hand, a fiery hand, grasped her wrist convulsively. She stood by his bed, greatly moved, much stung with self-reproach. It was cruel of her to act as she had done, to show him that convict suit, and let him see that she knew his vilenoss. It was heartless, wicked of her, when the poor follow was just returned to consciousness, to cast him back into his misery and shame by the sight of that degrading garment. Spots of colour came into her checks almost as deep as those which burnt in the sick man's faco. 'I should have considered he was ill, that he was under my charge,' she said, and In id her left hand en his to intimate that she sought to disengage her wrist from his grasp. At the touch his eyes, less wild, looked pleadingly at her. * Yes, Mr. Jasper,' she said, ' I ' * Why do you call me Mr. Jasper '? ' * That other man gave you the name.* ' Yes, my name is Jasper. And yours ? ' ' Barbara. I am Miss Barbara Jordan.' ' Will you promise what I asked ? ' ' Yes,' she said, ' I will stay by you all night, and what- ever passes your lips shall never pass mine.' He smiled, and gave a sigh of relief. ' How good you are ! How good ! Barbara Jordan.' He did not call her Miss, and she felt slightly piqued. He, a convict, to speak of her thus ! But she pacilied her wounded pride with the consideration that his mind was disturbed by fever. :0 >> I! lilill ;i ii! .i,'i ^iiii III , i| nil ■I iiiiiiiiii 44 EVE CHAPTER VII. A NIGIIT-WATCII. Barbara had passed her word to remain all night with the sick man, should ho prove delirious ; she was scrupulously conscientious, and in spite of her father's remonstrance and assurance tliat old lietty Westlake could look after the fellow well enough, she remained in the sick room after the rest had gone to hed. That Jasper was fevered was indubitable ; he was hot and restless, tossing his head from side to side on the pillow, and it was not safe to leave him, lest he should dis- arrange his bandage, lest, in an access of fever, he should leap from his bed and do himself an injury. After everyone had retired the house became very still. Barbara poked and made up the fire. It must not become too large, as the nights were not cold, and it must not be allowed to go out. Jasper did not speak, but he opened his eyes occasion- ally, and looked at his nurse with a strange light in hi^ eyes that alarmed her. What if he were to become frantic ? ^Vhat — worse — were he to die ? He was only half con- scious, he did not seem to know who she was. His lips twitched and moved, but no voice came. Then he clasped both hands over his brow, and moaned, and plucked at the bandages. ' You must not do that,' said Barbara Jordan, rising from her chair and going beside him. He glared at her from his burning eyes without intelligence. Then she laid her cool hand on his strapped brow, and he let his arms fall, and lay still, and the twitching of his mouth ceased. The pressure of her hand eased, soothed him. Directly she withdrew her hand he began to murmur and move, and cry out, ' Martin ! Martin ! ' Then he put forth his hand and opened it wide, and closed it again, in a wild, restless, unmeamng manner. !ii I A NIGHT-WATCH 45 Next liG waved it excitedly, as if in vehement conver- sation or earnest protest, liarbara spoke to liini, but ho did not hear licr. She urged him to ho quiet and not excite himself, but her words, if they entered his ear, conveyed no message to the brain. He snatched at his bandage. ' You shall not do that,' she said, and caught his hand, and held it down, iirmly on the coverlet. Then, at once, he was quiet. lie continued turning liis head on the pil- low, but he did not stir his arm. When she attempted to withdraw her hand he would not suffer her. Once, when almost by main force, she plucked her hand away, he be- came excited and tried to rise in his bed. In terror, to pacify him, she gave him her hand again. She moved her chair close to the bed, where she could sit facing him, and let him hold her left hand with his left. He was quiet at once. It seemed to her that her cool, calmly flowhig blood poured its healing influence through her hand up his arm to his tossing, troubled head. Thus she was obliged to sit all night, hand in hand with the man she was constrained to pity, but whom, for his guilt, she loathed. He became cooler, his pulse beat less fiercely, his hand was less burning and dry. She saw him pass from vexing dreams into placid sleep. She was unable to knit, to do any work all night. She could do nothing other than sit, hour after hour, with her eyes on his face, trying to unravel the riddle, to reconcile that noble countenance with an evil life. And when she could not solve it, she closed her eyes and prayed, and her prayer was concerned, like her thoughts, with the man who lay in fever and pain, and who clasped her so resolutely. Towards dawn his eyes opened, and there was no more vacancy and fire in them. Then she went to the little casement and opened it. The fresh, sweet air of early morning rushed in, and with ihe air came the song of awakening thrushes, the spiral twitter of the lark. One fading star was still shining in a sky that was laying aside its sables. ': t: l|! 'I' 'II 46 EVE Sho went back to tlio bcdsido and said gently, ' You are bettor.' • Tluink you,' ho answered. * I havo given you much trouble.' Sho shook her head, sho did not speak. Something rose in her throat. Sho had extinguished the lamp. In the grey dawn the faco on tlie bod looked death-like, and a gusli of tenderness, of pity for tlio patient, iilled Barbara's heart. She brought a basin and a sponge, and, leaning over him, washed his face. He thanked her with his sweet smile, a smilo that told of pain. It affected Barbara strangely. She drew a long breath. She could not speak. If she had attempted to do so sho would have sobbed ; for she was tired with her continued watching. To be a nurse to the weak, whether to a babe or a wounded man, brings out all the sweet springs in a woman's soul ; and poor Barbara, against her judgment, felt that every gentl-" vein in her heart was oozing Avith pity, love, solicitude, cy, faith and hope. What eyes tliat Jasper had! so „w.ioie, soft, and truthful. Could treachery, cruelty, dishonesty lurk beneath them ? A question trembled on Barbara's lips. She longed to ask him something about himself, to know the truth, to have tliat horrible enigma solved. She leaned her hand on the back of 'lie chair, and put the other to her lips. ' What is it ? ' he asked suddenly. She started. He had read her thoughts. Iler eyes met his, and, as they met, her eyes answered and said, 'Yes, there is a certain matter. I cannot rest till I know.' ' I am sure,' he said, ' there is something you wish to Bay, but are afraid lest you should excite me.' She was silent. ' I am better now ; the wind blows cool over me, and the morning light refreshes me. Do not be afi'aid. Speak.' Sho hesitated. A NIGIIT-WATCII 47 * Rpcalc,' he said. 'I nni fully conscious nnd sdf-pos- Bcssccl now.' ♦ Yes,' she said slowly. * It is ri^^'lit that I should know for certain what you are.' Sho halted, blio shrank from tlic question. lie remained waiting. Then sho asked with a trembling voice, * Is that convict garment yours ? ' lie turned away his face sharply. She waited for the answer. He did not reply. His breast heaved and his whole body shook, tho very bed quivered with suppressed emotion. • Do not bo afraid,' she said, in measured tones. 'I will not betray you. I have nursed you and fed you, and bathed your head. No, never ! never ! whatever your crime may have been, will I betray you. Xo one in tho house suspects. No eyes but mine have scon that garment. Do not mistrust mo ; not by word or look will I divulge tho secret, but I must know all.' Still he did not reply. Ilis fat-o was turned away, but she saw the working of the muscles of his cheek-bone, and the throb of the great vein in his temple. Barbara felt a flutter of compunction in her ncart. She had again over- agitated this unhappy man when he was not in a condition to bear it. She knew she had acted precipitately, unfairly, but the suspense had become to her unendurable. ' I have done wrong to ask the question,' sho said. * No,' he answered, and looked at her. His largo eyes, sunken and lustrous with sickness, met hers, and ho saw that tears were trembling on her lids. ' No,' he said, ' you did right to ask ; ' then paused. 'The garment — the prison garment is mine.' A catch in Barbara's breath ; she turned her head hastily and walked towards the door. Near the door stood the oak chest carved with the eagle -headed man. She stooped, threw it open, caught up the convict clothes, rolled them together, and ran up into the attic, where she secreted them in a place none but herself would be likely to look into. 48 EVE \ m 'I'll:' ii il ''^'' ' A moment after she reappeared, composed* ' A packman came this way with his wares yesterday,* said !Miss Jordan gravely. ' Amongst other news he brought was this, that a convict had recently broken out from the prison at Prince's Town on Dartmoor, and was thought to have escaped off the moor.' He listened and made no answer, but sighed heavily. ' You are safe here,' she said ; ' your secret remains here ' — she touched her breast. * My father, my sister, none of the maids suspect anything. Never let us allude to this matter again, and I hope that as soon as you are sufiiciently recovered you will go your way.' The door opened gently and Eve appeared, fresh and lovely as a May blossom. 'Bab, dear sister,' said the young girl, 'let me sit by him now. You must have a nap. You take everything upon you — you are tired. Why, Barbara, surely you have been crying ? ' ' I crying ! ' exclaimed the elder angrily. ' What have I had to make me cry ? No ; I am tired, and my eyes burn.' ' Then close them and slc3p for a couple of hours.' Barbara left the room and shut the door behind her. In the early morning none of the servants coula be spared to sit with the sick man. Eve went lo the table and arranged a bunch of oxlips, dripping with dew, in a glass of water. ' How sweet they are ! ' she said, smiling. * Smell them, they will do you good. These are of the old monks' planting ; they grow in abundp.nce in the orchard, but nowhere else. The oxlips and the orchis suit together perfectly. If the oxlip had been a little more yellow and the orchis a little more purple, they would have made an ill-assorted posy.' Jasper looked at the flowers, then at her. * Are you her sister ? ' * What, Barbara's sister ? ' ^ A NIGHT-WATCH 49 sterday,* brought Tom the ought to nade no she said ; ;t. 'My nything. 3 that as go your resh and le sit by erything ^ou have What and my irs.' ind her. e spared oxHps, ' Smell monks' rd, but ogether low and lade an * Yes, her name is Barbara.' * Of course I am.' He looked at Eve. lie could trace in her no likeness to her sister. Involuntarily he said, * You arc very beau- tiful.' She coloured — with pleasure. Twice within a few days the same compliment had been paid her. * Wliat is your name, young lady ? ' * My name is Eve.' * Eve ! ' repeated Jasper. ' How strange ! ' Twice nl:o, within a few days, had this remark been passed on her name. * Why should it be strange ? ' * Because that was also the name of my mother and of my sister.' * Is your mother alive ? * He shook his head. * And your sister ? ' * I do not know. I remcmbor her only faintly, and my father never speaks of licr.' Then he changed the subject. ' You are very unlike Miss Barbara. I should not have supposed you were sisters.' ' We are half-sisters. We had not the same mother.' He was exhausted with speaking, and turned towards the wall. Eve seated herself in the chair vacated by Bar- bara. She occupied her lingers with making a cowslip ball, and when it was made she tossed it. Then, as ho moved, she feared that she disturbed him, so she j at the ball on Die table, from whicl , however, it rolled off. Jasper turned as she was groping for it. ' Do I trouble you ? ' she said. ' Honour bright, I will 3it quiet.' How beautiful she looked with her chestnut hair ; how delicate and pearly was her lovely neck ; what sweet eyes were hers, blue as a heaven full of suiisliine ! ' Have you sat much with me, i\[iss Eve, whilst I have seen ill ? * 50 EVE i thieves. She was interested in her patient. Iler patient he was, as she was the only person in the house to provide and order whatever was done in it. Her patient, Eve and her father called him. Her patient ho was, somehow her own heart told her he was ; bound to her doubly by the so- licitude with which she had nursed him, by the secret of his life which she had surprised. He puzzled her. Ho puzzled her more and more dail There was a gentleness and refinement in his manner a .d speech that showed her ho was not a man of low class, that if he were not a gentleman by birth ho was one in mind and culture. There was a grave religiousness about him, moreover, that could not be assumed, and did not comport with a criminal. Who was he, and what had he done ? How far had ho sinned, or been sinned against ? Barbara's mind was fretted with these ever-recurring questions. Teased with the enigma, she could not divert her tlioughts for long from it — it formed the baclcground to all that occupied her during the day. She considered the dairy, but when tho butter was weighed, went back in mind to tlie riddle. She was Vi'ithdrawn again by the demands of the cook for gro- ceries from her store closet ; when the closet door was shut she was again thinking of the puzzle. She had to calcu- late the amount of cake required for the harvesters, and went on from the calculations of currants and sugar to tho balancing of probabilities in the case of Jasper. She had avoided seeing him of late more tha i was no- 4;' mf i"^ 'I !l 56 EVE ccssary, slio had rcsolvctl not to go near him, and let the maid Jane attend to his requirements, aided by Christo- pher Davy's boy, who cleaned the boots and knives, and ran errands, and weeded the paths, and was made gener- ally useful. Yet for all her resolve she did not keep it : she discovered that some little matter had been neglected, which forced her to enter the room. When she. was there she was impatient to bo out of it again, and she hardly spoke to Jasper, was short, busy, and away in a moment. ' It does not do to leave the servants to themselves, soliloquised Barbara. ' They half do whatever they are set at. The sick man would not like to complain. I must Bee to everything myself.' Now she complied with his request to sit beside him, but was at cnce tilled with restlessness. She could not speak to him on the one subject that tormented her. She had herself forbidden mention of it. Bhe looked askance at Jasper, who was not speaking. He had his hat off, on his lap ; his eyes were moist, his lips were moving. She was confident he was praying. He turned in a moment, re-covered his head, and said with his sweet smile, * God is good. I have already thanked you. I have thanked him now.' Was this hypocrisy ? Barbara could not believe it. She said, ' If you have no objection, may we know your name ? I have been asked by my father and others. I mean,' she hesitated, * a name by which you would care to be called.' * You shall have my real name,' he said, slightly colour- ing. ' For myself to know, or to tell others ? ' * As you will, Miss Jordan. My name is Babb.' ' Babb ! ' echoed Barbara. She thought to herself that it was a name as ugly as it was unusual. At that moment Eve appeared, glowing with life, a wreath cf wild roses wound about her hat, BAB 57 * Bab ! Bab dear ! ' she cried, referrin;^' to Iior sister. Barbara turned crimson, and sprung from her seat. •The last cartload is goinj? to start,' said Eve eagerly, * and the men say that I am the Queen and must sit on the top ; but I want half-a-crown, Bab dear, to pay my footing up the ladder to the top of the load.' Barbara drew her sister away. 'Eve ! never call mo by that ridiculous pet-name again. "When we were chil- dren it did not matter. Now I do not wish it.' * Why not ? ' asked the wondering girl. ' IIow hot you are looking, and yet you have been si'ting still ! ' * I do not wish it, Eve. You will make me very angry, and I shall feel hurt if you do it again. Bab — think, dar- ling, the name is positively revolting, I assure you. I hate it. If you have any love for mo in your heart, any re- gard for my feelings, you will not call me by it again. Bab 1' CHAPTER IX. THE rOCKET-BOOK. Jaspeb drew in full draughts of the delicious air, leaning back on the bench, himself in shade, watching tlie trees, hearing the hum of the bees, and the voices of the harves- ters, pleasant and soft in the distance, as if the golden sun had subdued all the harshness in the tones of the rough voices. Then the waggon drew nigh ; the garden was above the level of the farmyard, terraced so that Jasper could not see the cart and horses, or the men, but he saw the great load of grey-green hay move by, with Eve and Barbara seated on it, the former not only crowned with roses, but holding a pole with a bunch of roses and a flutter of ribands at the top. Eve's golden hair had fallen loose and was about her shoulders. She was in an ecstasy of gaiety. As the load travelled along before the garden, Ni !(lii1 ! i"! Hi ^1 58 EVE both Evo and licr sister saw tlio sick man on his bench. IIo seemed so thin, "wliito, and feeble in the midst of a fresh and vigorous nature that liarbara's heart grew soft, and she had to bite her hp to control its quiver. Evo waved her stair topped Avith ilowcrs and streamers, stood up in the hay and curtsied to him, with a merry laugli, and then dropped back into tlic hay, having lost her balance through the jolting of the wheels. Jasper brightened, and, remov- ing his hat, returned the salute with comic nuijesty. T^lien, as Eve and Barbara disappeared, ho fell back against tho wall, and his eyes rested on the fluttering loaves of a white poplar, and some white butterllios that might have been leaves reft from the trees, lliclvoring and pursuing each other in tho soft air. Tho swallows tliat lived in a colony of inverted clay domes under tho caves wore darting about, uttering shrill cries, tho expression of exuberant joy of life. Jasi^er sank into a sunnner dream. He was roused from his reverie by a man coming be- tween him and the pretty gar'len picture that filled his eyes. lie recognised tho sm'goon, Mr. — or as tlio country people called him. Doctor — Coyshe. Tlie young medical man had no objection to being thus entitled, but he very emphatically protested against his name boing converted into Quash, or even Sijuash. Coysho is a very respectable and ancient Devonsliiio family name, but it is a name that lends itself readily to phonetic degradation, and the young surgeon had to do daily battle to preserve it from boing vulgarised. ' Good afternoon, patient ! ' said he cheerily ; ' doing well, thanks to my treatment.' Jasper made a suitable reply. ' Ah ! I dare say you pull a face at seeing mo now, thinking I am paying \ isits for tho sake of my lee, when need for my attendance is past. That, let me tell you, is the way of some doctors ; it is, however, not mine. Lord love you, I knew a case of a man who sent for a doctor because his wife was ill, and was forced to smother her under pillowo to cut short the attendance and bring the THE POCKET-BOOK 59 bill Tvitliin the compass of his means. IJlcss your stars, my man, that you full into my hands, not into those of old Crookc' ' 1 am assured,' said Jasper, ' that I am fallen into the best possible hands.' ' Wlio as.^ured you of that?' asked Coyshe sharply; * Miss Eve or the other ? ' ' 1 am assured by my own experience of your skill.' ' Ah ! an ordinary practitioner ^vould Jiavc trepanned you ; the Y»hole run of them, myself and myself only ex- cepted, have an itch in their lingers for the saw and tho scalpel. There is far too much bleeding, cupping, and calomel used in the profession now — but \vhat are ^vt! to say '.' The people love to have it so, to see blood and have a squeal for their money. I've had before now to admin- ister a bread pill and give it a Greek name.' Mr. Jordan from liis studv, the girls from the stackvard (or moway, as it i- locally called), saw or heard the sur- geon, lie was loud in his talk and made himself heard. Tliey came to him into the garden. Eve, ^vith her natural coquetry, retained the crown of roses and her sceptre. ' You see,' said Mr. Coyshe, rulJjing his hands, ' I have done wonders. This would have been a dead man but for me. Now, sir, look at me,' he said to Jasper ; ' you owe mo a life.' * I know very well to whom I owe my life,' answered •hisper, and glanced at Barbara. * To my last hour I shall ]iot forget tho obligation.' ' And do you knt w irlnj he owes me his life ? ' asked tho surgeon of ]\[r. Jordan. ' Because I let nature alone, and Icept old Crooke away. I can tell you tlio usual practice. The doctor comes and shrugs his shoulders and takes snuff. ^Vhcn he sees a proper impression made, he says, " How- ever ; wo will do our best, only we don't work miracles." lie sprinkles his victim with snuff, as if about to embalm the body. If the man dies, the reason is clear. Crooko 6o r.vE was not sent fui* In time. If ho recovers, Crooko liag wrouglit a miracle. That is not my way, as you all know.' lie looked about him complacently. • What will you tiike, i.Ir. Coyshe ? ' asked r»ai"bara ; ' some of our hayscl ale, or claret ? And will you come indoors for rufrcsliment ? ' ' Indoors ! doar me, no ! ' said the young doctor ; * I keep out of the atmosphere impregnated with four or five centuries of dirt as nnich as I can. If I had my way I would burn down every house with all its contents every ten years, and so we might get rid of half the diseases which ravage the world. I wouldn't live in your old ramshackle Morwell if I were paid ten guineas a day. The atmosphere must be poisoned, charged with particles of dust many centuries old. Under every cupboard, ay, and on top of it, is Huff, and every stir of a gown, every tread of a foot, sets it floating, and the currents bring it to your lungs or pores. What is that dust made up of ? Who can toll? The scrapings of oM monks, the scum of Protestant reformers, the detritus of any numbe?' of Jor- dans for ages, s'^me of whom have hrid measLs, some scarlet fever, some tunall-^.^x, iNo, thank you. Ill have my claret in the garden. I "an tell you without looking what goes to make up tlic c.ir in that pestilent old box ; the dog has carried old bones behind the cupboard, the cat lias been set a saucer of milk under the chest, which has been forgotten and gone sour. An old stocking which one of the ladies was mending was thrust under a sofa cushion, when the front door bell rang, and she had to receive callers — and that also was forgotten.' Miss Jordan waxed red and indignant. ' Mr. Ooyshe,' sho said, ' I cannot h.ear you say this, it is no^. ti to. O'u* house is perfectly swcot and clean ; there is neither a store of old bones, nor a half-darned stocking, nor any of the other abominations you mentioned about it.' Your eyes have not seen the world through a micro- scope. Mine have,' answered the unabashed surgeon. THE POCKKT-r.OOk' 6i • Wlion a ray of sunlij^'lit enters your rooms, you can see tlio whole course of the ray.' ' Yes. * Very well, that is because the ah* is dirty. If it were clean you would be unable to see it. No, thank you. I will have my claret in the {,'arden ; perhaps you would not mind having it sent out to me. The air out of doors is pure compared to that of a house.' A little table, wine, glasses and cake were sent out. Jjarbara and l^vo did not reappear. Mr. Jordan had a great respect for the young doctor. J lis self-assurance, his pedantry, his boasting, imposed on the timid and half-cultured mind of the old man. lie hoped to get information from the surgeon about tests for metals, to interest him in his pursuits without letting him into his secrets ; he therefore overcame his shyness sufficiently to appear and converse when Mr. Coyshe arrived. ' "What a very beautiful daughter you have got ! ' said Coyshe ; * one that is only to be seen in pictures. A man despairs of beholding such loveliness in actual life, and see, here, at the limit of the world, the vision Hashes on one 1 Not much like you, Squire, not much like her sister ; looks as if she belonged to another breed.' Jasper Babb looked round startled at the audacity and rudeness of the surgeon. Mr. Jordan was not offended ; he seemed indeed flattered. lie was very proud of Eve. * You are right. My eldest daughter has almost nothing in common with her younger sister — only a half- sister.' ' Ideally,' said Coyshe, ' it makes me shiver for the future of that fairy being. I take it for granted she will be yoked to some county booby of a squire, a Bob Acres. Good Lord! what a prospect! A jewel of gold in a swine's snout, as Solomon says.' * Eve shall never marry one unworthy of her,' said Ignatius Jordan vehemently. She will be under no con- 62 EVE straint. She will be able to afford to shape her future according to her fancy. She -will be comfortably off.' * Comfortably off iifty years ago means pinched now, and pinched now means screwed flat fifty years hence. Lverything is becoming costly. Living is a luxury only for the vrcll-to-do. The rest merely exist undur suffer- ance.' ' Miss Eve will not bo pinched,' answered ]\Ir. Jordan, unconscious that he was being drawn out by the surgeon. ' Seventeen years ago I lent fifteen hundred pou.nds, wliich is to be returned to mo on Midsummer Day. To that I can add about five hundred ; I have saved something since — not much, for somehow the estate has not answered as it did of old.' 'You have two daughters.' * Oh, yes, there is Barbara,' said Jordan in a tone of indifference. ' Of course she will have something, but theii — she can always manage for herself — with the other it is different.' * Are you ill ? ' ashed Coyshe, suddenly, observing that Jasper had turned very pale, and dark mrder the eyes. • Is the air too strong for you ? ' ' Xo, let me remain here. The sun does mo good.' Mr. Jordan was rather glad of this opportunity of publishing the fortune he was going to give his younger daughter, llf; wished it to be known in the neighbour- hood, that Eve miglit be esteemed and sought by suitable young men. lie often said to himself that he could die content were Eve in a position where she would be happy ai \ admired. 'When did ]\[iss Eve's mother die?' asked Coyshe abruptly. Mr. Jordan started. * Did I say she was dead ? Did I mention her ? ' Coyshe mused, put his hand through his hair and ruffled it up ; then folded his arms and threw out his legs. * Now tell me, squire, are you sure of your money ? ' THE pock'R r.nook' of * What do you mean ? ' * That moiioy you say you lent seventeen years ago. SVhat are your securities ? ' ' The Lest. The ^vord of an honourable man.' ' The word ! ' :\rr. Coyslie ^Yhistle(l. ' Words ! ^Yhat are "vvords ? lie offered :t; but it 1 a mortgage, but it never came. Mr. Jordan. ' Indeed, I never applied for it. I had \ns word.' ' If you SCO the shine of that money again, you are luclcy.' Then looking at Jasper : ' My paliunt is upset again — I thought the air was too strong for him. He mu,:t oe carried in. lie is going into a fit.' Jasper was leaning back against the wall, with dis- tended eyes, and hands and teeth clenched as with a spasm. * No,' said Jasper faintly, ' I am not in a fit.' * You looked much as if going into an attack of lock- jaw,' At that moment Barbara came out, and at once noticed th': condition of the convalescent. * Here,' said she, ' lean on me as you did coming out. This has been too much for you. Will you help me, Doctor Coyshc ? ' * Thank you,' said Jasper. ' If Miss Jordan will sufTor me to rest on her arm, I will return to my room.' When he was back in his arm-chair and the little room he had occupied, Darbara looked earnestly in his face and said, ' What Las troubled you ? I am sure something has.' ' I am very unhappy,' he answered, ' but you must ask me no questions.' Miss Jordan went in quest of her sister. ' Eve,' slio said, ' our poor patient is exhausted. Sit in the parlour and play and sing, and give a look into his room now and then. I am busy.' The slight disturbance had not altered the bent of Mr. Jordan's thoughts. When ^Ir. (,'oyshe rejoined him, which 64 EVE hr > % ' lie did the moment lie saw Jasper safe in his room, Mr, Jordan said, ' I cannot believe that I ran any risk with the money. The man to whom I lent it is honourable. Be- sides, I have his note of hand acknowledging the debt ; not that I would use it against him.' ' A man's word,' said Coyslic, ' is like india-rubber that can bo made into any shape he likes. A word is made up of letters, and he will hold to the letters and permute their order to suit his own convenience, not yours. A man will stick to his word only so long as his word will stick to him. It depends entirely on which side it is licked. Hark ! Is that Miss Eve singing ? What a voice ! Why, if she were trained and on the stage ' Mr. Jordan stood up, agitated and angry. ' I beg your pardon,' said Coyshe. ' Does the sugges- tion offend you ? I merely threw it out in the event of the money lent not turning up.' Just then his eyes fell on something that lay under the seat. ' Wliat is that ? Have you dropped a pocket-book ? ' A rough large leatlier pocket-book that was to which he pointed. Mr. Jordan stooped and took it up. He examined it attentively and uttered an exclamation of surprise. ' Well,' said the surgeon mockingly, * is the money come, dropped from the clouds at your feet ? ' * No,' answered Mr. Jordan, under his breath, ' but this is most extraordinary, most mysterious ! How comes this case here ? It is the very same which I handed over, lilled with notes, to that man seventeen years ago ! See ! there are my initials on it ; there on the shield is my crest. How comes it here ? ' ' The question, my dear sir, is not how comes it here ? but what does it contain ? ' ' Nothing.' The surgeon put his hands in his pockets, screwed up his lips for a whistle, and said, * 1 foretold this, I am always right.' .Air. the I3o- ebt ; A NIGHT-WATCH 65 * The money is not duo till Midsummnr-day.' •Nor will come till the Greek kalends. Poor Miss Ever CHAPTER X. BARBARA'S rETITIOX. Midsummer-day was come. Mr. Jordan was in susponso and agitation. His pale face was more livid and drawn than usual. The fears inspired by the surgeon had taken hold of him. Before the birth of Eve he had been an energetic man, eager to get all he could out of the estate, but for seveii- teen years an unaccountable sadness had hung over him, damping his ardoux ; his thoughts had been carried away from his land, whither no one knew, though the results were obvious enough. With Barbara he had little in common. She was eminently practical. He was always in a dream. She was never on an easy footing with her father, she tried to understand him and failed, she feared that his brain was partially disturbed. Perhaps her efforts to make him out annoyed him ; at any rate he was cold towards her, with- out being intentiona ' v unkind. An ever-present restraint was upon both in each other's presence. At first, after the disappearance of Eve's mother, things had gone on upon the old lines. Christopher Dav> had superintended the farm labours, but as he aged and failed, and Barbara grew to see the necessity for supervision, she took the management of the farm as well as of the house upon herself. She saw that the men dawdled over their work, and that the condition of the estate was going back. The coppices had not been shredded in winter and the oak was grown into a tangle. The rending for bark in spring was done unsystematically. The hedges became ragged, i 1 1 56 EVE the ploughs out of order, the thistles T\'ere not cut periodi- cally and prevented from seeding. There were not men sufficient to do the "work that had to be done. 8he liad not the time to attend to the men as well as the maids, to the farmyard as well as the hou?:?. ^Slie had made up her mind that a proper bailiff' must be secured, witli authority to employ as many 1 .bourcrs as tlie estate required. Bar- bara was convinced that her father, witli his lost, dreamy head, was incapable .f managing their propei'ty, even if lie had the desire. Now that the trusty old Davy was ill, and breaking up, she had none to advise her. Bhc was roused to anger on ]\lidsummer-day by dis- covering that the hayrick had never been tliatclied, and that it had been exposed to the rain whicli had fnllcii heavily, so tliut lialf of it had to bo taken down because soaked, lest it should catch lire or blacken. This was the result of the carelessness of (lie men. She determined to speak to her father at once. She had good reason for doing so. Slie found him in his study arranging his specimens of mundic and peacock copper. ' Has anyone come, asking for me ? ' he said, looking up with fluttering face from his work. * No one, father.' ' You startled me, Barbara, coming on me stealthily from beliind. What do you want with me ? You see I am engaged, and you know I hate to be disturbed.' ' I have something I wish to speak about.' ' Well, well, say it and go.' His shaking hands re- sumed their work. ' It is the old story, dear papa. I want you to engage a steward. It is impossible for us to go on longer in the "Jvay wo have. You know how I am kept on the run from morning to night. I have to look after all your helpless men, as well as my own helpless maids. ^Yllen I am in the field, there is mischief done in the kitchen ; when I am in the Louse, the men arc smoking and idling on tho lARBARA'S PET in ON 67 fami. Evo cannot liolp mo in sceiuL,' to domestic matters, •she has not tlio expcricnco. ]'A'erytliing devolves on me. I do not grudge doing my utmost, Liit I have not tlio time for everything, and I am not ubiquitous.' 'No,' said Mr. Jordan, 'Kve cannot undertake any sort of work. That is an understood thing.' ' I know it is. If I ask her to be sure and recollect something, she is certain v. ith the best intentions to for- get ; she is a dear beautil'ul buttertly, not tit to be har- nessed. Iler brains are thistledown, her bones cherry stalks.' ' Yes, do not crush her spirits with uncongenial woik,' ' I do not want to. I know as well as yourself that I must rely on her for nothing. ]"')ut the result is that I am overtasked. Now — will you credit it ? The beautiful hay tliat was like green tea is spoiled. Those stupid men did not thatch it. They said they had no reed, and waited to comb some till the rain set in. ^Vhen it did pour, thry were all in the barn talking and making reed, but at tliO same time the water was drenching and spoiling the hay. Oh, papa, I feel disposed to cry ! ' ' I will speak to them about it,' said Mr. Jordan, with a sigh, not occasioned by the injury to his hay, but because he was disturbed over his specimens. ' My dear papa,' said the energetic Barbara, ' I do not wish you to be troubled about these tiresome matters. You are growing old, daily older, and your strengtli is not gaining. You have other pursuits. Y'ou are not heartily interested in the farm. I see your hand trembh; when you hold your fork at dinner ; you are becoming tliinner everyday. I would spare you trouble. It is really neces- sary, I niust have it — you must engage a bailill". I shall break down, and that will bo the end, or we shall all go to ruin. The woods are running to waste. There are trees lying about literally rotting. They ought to bo sent away to the Devonport dockyard where they could bo sold. Last spring, when you let the rending, the barbers shaved a lllll 68 EVE ■whole copse wood, as if shaving a man's chin, instead of leaving the better sticks standing.' * We have enough to live on.' * We must do our duty to the land on which we live. I cannot endure to see waste anywhere. I have only one head, one pair of eyes, and one pair of hands. I cannot think of, see to, and do everything. I lie awake night after night considering what has to be done, and the day is too short for me to do all I have determined on in the night. Whilst that poor gentleman has been ill, I have had to think of him in addition to everything else ; so some duties have been neglected. That is how, I suppose, the doctor came to guess there was a stocking half-darned under the sofa cushion. Eve was mending it, she tired and put it away, and of course forgot it. I. generally look about for Eve's leavings, and tidy her scraps when she has gone to bed, but I have been too busy. I am vexed about that stocking. How those protruding eyes of the doctor managed to see it I cannot think. He was, how- ever, wrong about the saucer of sour milk.' Mr. Jordan continued nervously sorting his minerals into little white card boxes. ' Well, papa, are you going to do anything ? ' ' Do— do— what ? ' * Engage a bailiff. I am sure we shall gain money by working the estate better. The bailiff will pay his cost, and something over.' ' You are very eager for money,' said Mr. Jordan sulkily ; * are you thinking of getting married, and anxious to have a dower ? ' Barbara coloured deeply, hurt and offended. * This is unkind of you, papa ; I am thinking of Eve, I think only of her. You ought to know that ' — the tears came into her eyes. * Of course Eve will marry some day ; ' then she laughed, * no one will ever come for me.' * To b3 sure,' said Mr. Jordan. BARBARAS PETITION 69 I * I have been thinking, papa, that Eve ought to be Bent to some very nice lady, or to some very select school, where she might have proper finishing. All she has learnt has been from me, and I have had so much to do, and I have been so unable to be sftvere with Eve — that — that — I don't think she has learned much except music, to which she takes instinctively as a South Sea islander to water.' ' I cannot be parted from Eve. It would rob my sky of its sun. What would this house be with only you — I mean without Eve to brighten it ? ' * If you will think the matter over, father, you will see that it ought to be. We must consider Eve, and not our- selves. I would not have her, dear heart, anywhere but in the very best school, — hardly a school, a place where only three or four young ladies are taken, and they of the best families. That will cost money, so we must put our shoulders to the wheel, and push the old coach on.' She laid her hands on the back of her father's chair and leaned over his shoulder. She had been standing behind him. Did she hope he would kiss her ? If so, her hope was vain. * Do, dear papa, engage an honest, superior sort of man to look after the farm. I will promise to make a great deal of money with my dairy, if he will see to the cows in the fields. Try the experiment, and, trust me, it will answer.' * All in good time.' * No, papa, do not put this off. There is another reason why I speak. Christopher Davy is bedridden. You are sometimes absent, then we girls are eft alone in this great house, all day, and occasionally nights as well. You know there was no one here on that nigiit when the accident happened. There were two men in this house, one, in- deed, insensible. We know nothing of them, who they were, and what they were about. IIow can you tell that bad characters may not come here ? It is thouglit that ii io EVE you have saved money, and it is known tliat Morwcll is nnprotcctcd. You, pai)ii, aro so frail, and with your Bhalcing hand a gun would not bo dangerous.' lie started from his chair and up:s(,'t his specimens. ' Do not speak like that,' he said, trembling. ' There, I have disturbed you even by alluding to it. If you were to level a gun, and had your Ihiger ' lie put his hand, a cold, quivering hand, on her lips : *For God's sake — silence ! ' he said. She obeyed. She knew how odd her father was, yet his agitation now was so great that it surpj'ised her. It made her more resolute to carry her point. * Papa, you aro expecting to have about two thousand pounds in the house, ^^'ill it bo safe '? You have told the doctor, and that man, our patient, heard you. Excuse my saying it, but I think it was not well to mention it before a perfect stranger. Y'ou may have told others. Mr. Coysho is a chatterbox, he may have talked about it throughout the neighbourhood — tlie fact may be known to everyone, that to-day you are ex])ecting to have a largo sum of money brought you. AVell — who is to guard it '? Aro there no needy and unscrupulous men in the county who would rob the house, and maybe silence an old man and two girls who stood in tliiir way to a couple of thousand pounds ? ' ' The sum is large. It must be hidden away,' said Mr. Jordan, uneasily. ' I had not considered the danger'- — he paused — ' if it be paid ' ' //, papa '? I thought you w^ro sure of it.' ' Y'es, quite sure ; only Mr. Coyslie disturbed me by suggesting doubts.' ' Oh, the doctor ! ' excuiimed Barbara, shrugging her shoulders. ' Well, the doctor,' repeated Mr. Jordan, captiously. * He is a very able man. Why do you turn up your noso at him ? He can see through a stone wall, and under a cushion to where a stocking is hidden, and under a BA RHA RA 'S PE TITIOX 71 cupboard to ^vllCl•c a saucer of souu milk is thrust away ; and ho can see into the liuman body through the flesh and behind the bones, and can tell you where every nerve and vein is, and what is wrong with each. When things are wrong, then it is like stockings and saucers where they ought not to be in a house.' ' He was wrong about the saucer of sour milk, utterly wrong,' persisted Barbara. * I hope and trust the surgeon was wrong in his fore- cast about the money — but my heart fails me ' ' He was wrong about the saucer,' said the girl en- couragingly. 'But he was right about the stocking,' said her father dispiritedly. ( CHAPTER XL GllANTED I As the sun declined, Mr. Jordan became uneasy. Ho could not remain in his study. He could not rest any- where. The money had not been returned. Ho had taken out of his strong box Ezekiel Babb's acknowledg- ment and promise of payment, but ho knew that it was so much waste-paper to him. He could not or would not proceed against the borrower. Had he not wronged him cruelly by living with his daugliteras if she were his wife, without having been legally married to her '? Could ho take legal proceedings for the recovery of his money, and so bring all the ugly story to light and publi.sli it to the world? He had let Mr. Babb have the money to pacify him, and make some amends for the wrong he had done. No ! If Mr. Babb did not voluntarily return the money, Ignatius Jordan foresaw that it was lost to him, lost to Eve, and poor Eve's future was unprovided for. The estate must go to Barbara, that is, the reversion in the tenure of it ; the ready money he had intended for Eve. 7a EVE ir I Mr. Jordan felt a bitterness rise in his heart against Bar- bara, whoso future was assured, whilst that of Eve was not. He would have liked to leave Morwell to his younger daugliter, but he was not sure that the Duke would approve of this, and ho was quite sure that Eve was incompetent to manage a farm and dairy. At the time of which we treat, it was usual for every squire to farm a portion of his own estate, his manor house was backed with extensive outbuildings for cattle, and his wife and daughters were not above superintending the dairy. Indeed, an ancestress of the author took farm after farm into her own hands as tlie leases fell in, and at last farmed tho entire parisli. She died in 1795. The Jordans were not squires, but perpetual tenants under the Dukes of Bedford, and had been received by the country gentry on an equal footing, till Mr. Jordan compromised his characte: by his union will ^ve's mother. The estate of Morwell was a large o le for one man to farm ; if tlie Duke had exacted a large rent, of late years Mr. Jordan would have fallen into arrears, but the Duke had not raised his rent at the last renewal. The Dukes were the most indulgent of landlords. Mr. Jordan came into the hall. It was the same as it had been seventi i u years before; the same old clock was there, ticking in the same tone, the same scanty fur- niture of a few chairs, the same slate floor. Only the cradle was no longer to be seen. The red light smote into the room just as it had seventeen years before. There against the wall it painted a black cross as it had done seventeen years ago. Ignatius Jordan looked up over the great fireplace. Above it hung the musket he had been cleaning wlion Ezekiel Ba) b entered. It had not been taken down and used sincf i\\?i day. Seventeen years ! It was an age. The littlj babe that had lain in the cradle was now a beautiful nmrriageable maiden. Time had made its mark upon himself. His back was more bent, his hand more GRANTED f 73 Bliaky, his walk less ateady ; a careful, thrifty man had been converted into an abstracted, half-crazod dreamer. Seventeen years of gnawing care and ceaseless sorrow ! IIow had he been able ih bear it ? Only by the staying wings of love, of love for bis little Eve— for her child. AVithout his Fve, her child, long ago he would have sunk and been swallowed up, the clouds of derangement of intellect would have descended on his brain, or his bodily health would have given way. Seventeen years ago, on ^lidsummcr-day, there had stood on the little folding oak table under the window a tumbler full of chinn roses, which were drooping, and Inid shed their leaves over the polished, almost black, table top. They hance hisl )in'eau was broi\ en open, and tho money stolen.' 'Was the thief not caught'? Was the money not re- covered? ' asked ]\[r. Jordan, trembling with excitement. ' Tho money was in part recovered.' * Where is it V ' * Listen to what follows. You asked if the — the person who took the money was caught. IIo was.' ' Is ho in prison ? ' * The person who took tho money was caught, tried, and sent to jail. When taken, some of the money was found about him ; he had not spent itall. What remained 1 was bringing you.' * (live it me.' ' I have not got it.' * You have not got it ? ' ' No, I have lost it.' Again did Mr. Jordan start up in a fit of rage. TTo ground his teeth, and tho sweat broke out in drops on his brow. 'I had tho money with mo when the accident hap- ])ened, and I was thrown from my horse, and bocanu! uncon- scious. It was lost or taken then.' ' Who was your companion ? IIo must have robbed vou.' * I charge no one. I alone am to blame. The money was entrusted to my keephig.' * Why did your father give you the money before the appointed day ? ' 76 EVE • When my father recovered part of the money, he would no longer keep it in his possesoion, lest he jliould again lose it ; so he bade me takj it to you at once.' ' You have spent the money, you h ive spent it your- self ! ' cried Mr. Jordan wildly. • If I had done this, should I have come to you to-day with this confession? I had the money in the pocket-book in notes. The notes were abstracted from the book. As I waj so long insensible, it was too late to stop them at the bank. Whoever took them had time to change them all.' • Cursed be the day I lent the money,' moaned Igna- tius Jordan. ' The empty, worthless case returns, the precious contents are gone. What is the shell without the kernel? My Eve, my Eve ! ' He clasped his hands over his brow. ' And now once more hearken to me,' pursued Jasper. ' My father cannot immediately find the money that he owes you. He does not know of this second loss. I have not communicated with him since 1 met with my accident. The blame attaches to me. I must do what I can to make amends for my carelessness. I put myself into your hands. To repay you now, my father would have to sell the land he bought. I do not think he could be persuaded to do this, though, perhaps, you might be able to force him to it. However, as you say the money is for your daughter, will you allow it to lie where it is for a while ? I will under- take, should it come to me after my father's death, to sell it or transfer it, so as to make up to Miss Eve at the rate of five per cent, on the loan. I will do mere. If you will consent to this, I will stay here and work for you. I have been trained in the country, and know about a farm. I will act as your foreman, overlooker, or bailiff. I will put my hand to anything. Eeckon what my wage would be. Eeckon at the end of a year whether I h^ive not earned my wage and much more. If you like, I will work for you as GRANTED! 77 long as my father liv-js ; I will servo you now faithfully as no hired bailiff would serve you. My pn^sence here will be a guarantee to you that I will be true to my undertaking to repay the whole sum with interest. I can see that this estate needs an active man on it ; and you, sir, are too advanced in age, and too much given up to scicntitic pur- suits, to cope with what is required.' Those words, ' scientillc pursuits,' softened Mr. Jordan. Jasper spoke in good faith ; he had no idea how worthless those pursuits were, how little true science entered into them. He knew that Ivlr. Jordan made mineralogical studies, and he supposed they were well directed. ' Order me to do vhat you will,' said Jasper, * and I will do it, and will double your gains in the year.' ' I accept,' said Ignatius Jordan. ' There is no help for it. I must accept or be plundered of all.' * You accept ! let us join hands on the bargain.' It was strange ; as once before, seventeen years ago, hands had met in the golden gleam of sun that shot through the window, ratifying a contract, so was it now. The hands clasped in the sunbeam, and the reflected light from their illuminated hands smote up into the faces of the two men, both pale, one with years and care, the other with sickness. Mr. Jordan withdrew his hand, clasped both palms over his face and wept. ' Thus it comes,' he said. ' The shadow is on me and on my <.'hild. One sorrow follows another.' At that moment Barbara and Eve entered from the court. • Eve ! Eve ! ' cried the father excitedly, ' come to me, my angel ! my ill-treated child ! my martyr ! ' He caught her to his heart, put his face on her shoulder, and sobbed. * My darling, you have had your money stolen, the money put away for you when you were in the cradle.' • Who has stolen it, papa ? ' asked Barbara. * Look there ! ' he cried ; • Jasper Babb was bringing :lii II:: 78 EVE me tliG money, and Avlicn ho fell from his horse, it wag stolen.' Neither Barbara nor Eve spoke. * Now,' continued Mr. Jordan, ' ho has offered himself as my hind to look after the farm for me, and promises, if I give him time ' ' Father, you have refused ! ' interrupted Barbara. *0n the contrary, I have accepted,' ' It cannot, it must not be ! ' exclaimed l^arbara vehe- mently. 'Father, you do not know v/hat you have done.' ' This i;-: strange language to be addressed by a child to a father,' said j\Ir. Jordan in a tone of irritation. * Was there ever so unreasonable a girl before ? This morning you pressed mo to engngo a b;iilif'f. and now that 'M.. Jasper ]>abb has volunteered, and I luive accepted him, you tm'n round and won't have him.' 'No,' she said, with quick-drawn breath, 'I will not. Take anyone but him. I entreat you, papa. If you hav(^ any regard for my opinion, let him go. For pity's sake do not allow him to remain hero ! ' ' I liave accepted him,' said her father coldly. 'Pray what weighty reasons have you got to induce me to alter my resolve ? ' Miss Jordan stood thinking; the colour mounted to lier forehead, then her brows contracted. ' I have none to give,' she said in a lovv' tone, greatly confused, with her eyes on the ground. Then, in a moment, she recovered her self-possession and looked Jasper full in the face, but without speaking, steadily, sternly. In fact, her heart was beating so fast, and her breath coming ';o quick, that she could not speak. ' ]\[r. Jasper,' she said at length, con- trolling her emotions by a strong effort of will, ' I entreat you— go.' He was s'ient. ' I have nursed you ; I have given my nights and days to you. You confessed that I had saved your life. If you GRANTED f 79 liavG any gratitude in your heart, if you lia\e any respect for tlio house that has shcUered you— go ! ' 'Barbara,' said lier father, 'you are a perverse girl. lie shall not go. I insist on his fulfilling liis engagement. If he leaves I shall take legal proceedings agahist his father to recovi'r the money.' ' Do that rather than retain him.' ' Miss Jordan,' said Jasper, slowly, and with sadness in his voice, ' it is true that you have saved my life. Your land hand drew me from the briidv of tlie grave whither I was descending. I thank you witli all my heart, but I cannot go from my engagement to your fatlier. Through my fault the money was lost, and I must make what amends I may for my negligence.' * (io back to your father.' ' That I cannot do.' She considered with her hand over her lips to hide her agitation. ' No,' she said, ' I understand that. Of course you cannot go back to your native place and to your home; but you need not stavherc.' Then suddeidv, in a burst of passion, she extended her hands to her father, ' Papa ! '— then to the young man, 'Mr. Jasper! — Papa, send him away ! Mr. Jasper, do not remain ! ' The young man was hardly less agitated than herself. He took a couple of steps towards the door. ' Stuff and fiddlesticks ! ' shouted Mr. Jordan. * lie shall not go. I forbid him.' Jasper turned. ' Miss ]>arbara,' he said, humbly, 'you are labouring under a mistake which I must not explain. Forgive me. I stay.' She looked at him with nioC'ly anger, and muttered, ' Knowing what you do — that I am not blind — that you should dare to settle here under this lionourahlc roof. It is unjust! it is ungrateful! it is wicked! God help us! I have done what I could.' Bo EVE CHAPTER Xir. CALLED AWAY. \kL .TAsrEH was installed in Monvell as bailiff in spite of the remonstrances of Barbara. Ho was given a room near the gatehouse, and was attended by Mrs. Davy, but he came for his dinner to the table of the Jordans. Barbara had done what she could to prevent his becomiiig an inmate of the house. She might not tell her father her real reasons for objecting to the arrangement. She was rendered more uneasy a day or two after by receiving news that an aunt, a sister of her mother, who lived beyond Dr.rtmoor, was dying, and she was summoned to receive her last sigh. She must leave Morwell, leave her father and sister in the house with a man whom she thoroughly mistrusted. Her only comfort was that Jasper was not sufjiiciently strong and well to be dangerous. AVhat was he ? Was there any truth in that story he had told her father ? She could not believe it, because it would not fit in with what she already knew. What place had the convict's garb in tliat tale '? She turned the nar- rative about in her mind, and rejected it. She was in- clined to disbelieve in Jasper being the son of old Mr. Babb. He had assumed the name and invented the story to deceive her father, and form an excuse for remaining in the house. She hardly spoke to Jasper when they met. She was cold and haughty, she did not look at him ; and he made no advances to gain her goodwill. When she received the summons to her aunt's death- bed, knowing that she must go, she asked where Mr. Babb was, and, hearing that he was in the barn, went thither with the letter in her hand. He had been examining the horse-turned 'Aiaiowing CALLED AWAY 8i machine, which was out of order. As tl-n came to the door no looked up and removed his hat , making a formal sahite. The day was hot ; he had hcen taking the machine to pieces, and was warm, so he had rem')ved his coat. He at once drew it on his baclv again. Barbara had a curt, ahnost rough, manner at times. She was vexed now, and angry with him, so she spoke shortly, * I am summoned to Ashhurton. That is close to Buckfastlcigli, where, you say, you lived, to make my father believe it is your home.' ' Yes, Miss Jordan, that is true.' 'You have not written to your home siii-^e you have been with us. At least — ' she hesitated, and slightly coloured — * you have sent no letter by our boy. Perhaps you were afraid to have it known where you a^e. No doubt you were right. It is essential to you that your presence here should not be known to anyone but your father. A letter might be opened, or let lie iibout, and so your whereabouts be discovered. Supposing your story to be true, that is how I account for your silence. If it be false ' ' It is not false. Miss Jordan.' * I am going to Ashhurton, I will assure myself of it there. If it be false I shall break my promise to you, and tell my father everything. I give you fair warning. If it be true ' * It is true, dear young lady.' * Do not bo afraid of my disclosing your secret, and putting you in peril.' ' I am sure you cannot do that,' he said, with a sn, !o that was sad. 'If you go .0 Buckfastleigh, Miss Jordan, I shall venture to send word by you to my father where I am, that the money is lost, und what I have undertaken.' Barbara tossed hei' head, and ilaslied an indignant glance at him out of her brown eyes. ' I cannot, I will not be a porter of lies.' * What lies ? ' li 82 RVE * You did not lobC tlio money. ^Vlly deceive mo ? I know your object in lurldng here, in the most out-of-the- way nook of J'lngliind you could find. You tliiidi tliat hero you are safe from pursuit. You made up the story to impose on my father, and induce him to en,^'a,L(o you. 0, you arc very honourable ! discharging a debt ! — I hato crime, but I hato falsehood even more.' * Y'ou are mistaken, Yliss Jordan. The story is true.' ' You have told the whole honest truth '? ' ' I do not profess to have told the whole truth. "What I have told lias been true, though I have not told all.' ' A pincli of li'uih is often more false than a bushel of lies. It deceives, the other does not.' ' It is true that I lost the money confided to me. If you are going to Ashburton, I ask you, as a matter of kind- ness — I know how kind you can be, alas, and I know also how cruel — to see my father.' She laughed haughtily. ' Tliis is a fine proposition. The servant sends the nii.'-'i'css to do his dirty work. I thank you for the honour.' bhu turned jingrily away. * Miss Barbara,' said Jasper, ' you isrc indeed cruel.' ' Am I cruel ? ' She turned and faced him again, with a threatening brow. ' I have reason to be just. Cruel I am not.' ' Y'ou were all gcntlrness at one time, when I was ill. Now ' ' I will not dispute with }ou. Do you expect to be fed with a spoon still ? ^Vhen you were ill I treated you as a patient, not more kindly than I would have treated my deadliest enemy. I acted as duty prompted. There was no one else to take care of you, that was my motive — my only motive.' ' When I think of your kindness then, I wish I wero sick again.' ' A mean and wicked wish. Tired already, I suppose, of doing lioucst work,' * Miss Barbara,' he said, ' pray let me speak.' CALLED AWAY S3 * Cnicl,' — slio recurred to \\\\\\i lio liad said before, uitliout listening to his entreaty. 'It is you ^vllo are cruel coming here — you, -with the ugly stain on your life, coming hero to hide it in this innocent household. Would it not bo cruel in a man ■\vilh the plague poison in him to steal into a home of harmless \vomen and children, and give them all the pestilence ? Had I suspected that you intended making Morwell your retreat and skulking den, 1 would never have passed my promise to keep silence. I v/ould have taken the hateful evidence of what }0u are in my hand, and gone to tlie hrst constable and bid liim arrest you in your bed.' ' No,' said Jasper, ' you would not have done it. I know you better than you know yourself. Are you lost to nil humanity? Surely you feel pity in your gentle bosom, notwithstanding your bitter words.' ' No,' she answered, with Hushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, ' no, I luu'e pity only for myself, because I was weak enough to take pains to save your worthless life.' ' Miss Jordan,' he said, looking sorrowfully at her — and her eyes fell — * surely I have a right to ask some pity of you. Have you considered what the temptations must be that beset a young man who has been roughly handled at home, maltreated by his father, reared without love — a young man with a soul bounding with hopes, ambition, love of life, with a heart for pleasure, all which are beaten back and trampled down by the man who ought to direct thom? Can you not under s,' and how a lad who has been Liiwarted in every way, without a mother to soothe him in trouble, and encourage him in good, driven desperate by a father's harshness, may break away and transgress '? Con- sider the case of one who has been taught that everything beautiful — laughter, delight in music, in art, in nature, a merry gambol, a joyous Avarble — is sinful ; is it not likely that the outlines of right and wrong would bo so blurred in his conscience, that ho might lapse into crime without criminal intent ? ' o 2 84 EVE Arc you spealdng of yourself, or aro ycu excusing anotl ler am putti npr a case. Baibara sighed involuntarily. Ilor own father had hcen unsympathetic. lie had never been actually severe, he had been indifferent. * I can see that there were temptations to one so situ- ated to leave his home,' she answered, 'but this is not a case of truancy, but of crime.' * You judge without knowing the circumstances.' ' Then tell me all, that I may form a more equitable judgment.' ' I cannot do that now. You shall be told — later.' ' Then I must judge by what I know ' ' By what you guess,' he said, correcting her. ' As you will.' llcr eyes were on the ground. A white spar was there. She turned it over with her foot, and turned it again. She hesitated what to say. ' Should you favour me so far as to visit my father,' said Jasper, ' I beg of you one thing most earnestly. Do not mention the name of my companion — Martin.' ' Why not ? ' ' He may suspect him of having robbed me. My father is an energetic, resolute man. lie might pursue him, and I alone am to blame. I lost the money.' ' Who was that Martin ? ' * He told you — that I was nothing to him.' ' Then why do you seek to screen him ? ' * Can I say that he took the money ? If my father gets him arrested — I shall be found.' Barbara laughed bitterly. ' Of course, the innocent must not be brought into sus- picion because he has ridden an hour alongside of the guilty. No ! I will say nothing of Martin.' She was still turning over the piece of spar with her foot. It sparkled in the sun. CALLED AWAY 85 * How arc you going to Ashburton, Miss Jordan ? ' *I ride, and little John Ostler rides with me, conveying my portmanteau.' Then she trifled with the spar again. There was some pcaeocli copper on it that glistened with all the colours of the rainbow. Abruptly, at length, she turned away and went indoors. Next morning early she came in her habit to the gate where the boy who was to accompany her held the horses. She had not seen Jasper that morning, but she knew where he was. He had gone along the lane toward the common to set the men to repair fences and hedges, as the cattle that strayed on the waste- land had broken into the wheat field. She rode along the lane in meditative mood. She saw Jasper awaiting her on the down, near an old quarry, tha rubble heap from which w^as now blazing with gorse in full bloom. She drew rein, and said, ' I am going to Ash- burton. I will take your message, not because you asked me, but because I doubt the truth of your story.' ' Very well, Miss Jordan,' he said respectfully ; • I thank you, whatever your motive may be.' ' I expect and desire no tlianks,' she answered, and whipped her horse, that started forward. *I wish you a favourable journey,' lie said. 'Good- bye.' She did net turn her head or respond. She was very angry with him. She stooped over her pommel and buckled the strap of the little pocket in the leather for her kerchief. But, before she had ridden far, an intervening gorise bush forced her to bend her horse aside, and tlien she looked back, without appearing to look, looked back out of her eye-corners. Jasper stood where she had left him, with his hat in his hand. £6 EVE ciiArTi:R XIII. :\IK. I'.Al'.l! AT IlO.Mn. A LOVELY July (lay in lliu fri'sh air of Dartmoor, tliat Hoems to sparkle as it enters the Inuf^s : fresh, but ^iveii a sharpness of salt : pui'e, hut tii),i,'('(l with the sweetness of heather bloom and the lioney of gorse. Human spirits hound in this air. The scenery of Dartmoor, if hare of trees, is wildly picturesque with ''ranitc' masses and bold mountain peaks. r>arl)ara could not shako off the anxiety that enveloped her spirits like the haze of a valley till slio rose up a lon^t,' ascent of three miles from the wooded valley of the Tav}- to the hald, rock-strewn expanse of Dartmoor. She rode on, attended l)y her little groom, till she reached Prince's Town, the hii^hest point attained hy the road, where, in a desolate plain of hoiJ:, hut little helow the crests of some of the f^a-nnitc tors, stands a prison surrounded by a few mean houses. From Prince's Town Darbara would have a rough moor-path, not a good road, before her ; and, as the horses were exhausted with their long climl), sho halted n^ the little inn, and ordered some dinner for herself, andrecxuired that the boy and the horses should be attended to. Whilst ham and eggs — nothing else was procurable — • wero being fried, l>arbara walked along the road to the prison, and looked at tlie gloomy, rugged gate built of un- trimmed granite blocks. The unbroken desolation swept to the very walls of the prison.' At that height the wind moans among tlie rock'S and ruslu>s mournfully ; the air i;j never still. The landlady of the imi came to her. ' That is the jail,' sho said. ' There was a prisoner broke out not long ago, and he has not yet been caught. 1 Tlio imthor lias allowed liimsclf a sliu'lit aiiacliroiiisiii. Tho pri:=;on was nut a couvict c.'^tal)Ii>Iiiiiriit at I'lc pcriucl ul' tliis tale. ► ; Mh\ nAnn at iio.yrE 87 How ho managed it none can tell. Where ho now i^^ no one knows. Ho may be still wanderinc: on the moor. ]'lvei'y road from it is watched. Peihapf) ho may give him- self up, finding escape impossihlo. If not, he will die of hunger among the rocks.' ' What was tlic crime for which Ii ' was hore ? ' asked Barbara ; but slio spoke willi an eflbrl. ' Ho was a bid man ; it was no ordinary wickednes.; ho committed. He robbed his own father.' ' His own father ! ' echoed Darbara, starting. * Yes, ho robbed liim of nigh on two tliousand pound f. TJio father acted sliarp, and liad him caught befco ho had spent all the money. The assizes woro next week, so it was quick work; and hero he was for a few day!, and thm — he got away.' 'Robbed his own fatlur ! ' nun'niurcd Uarbaia, and now she thouglit she saw more clearly than before into a m'^ter that looked blaclcor the more she saw. ' There's a man in yonder who set hre to his house to get the insurance. Folks say his house was but a rum- magy old place. 'Tis a pity. Now, if ho had got away it would not have mattered ; but, a rascal who did not re- spect his own father ! — not that I hold with a man prose- cuting his own son. That was hard. Still, if one was to escape, I don't see why tlio Lord blessed the undertakini,' of the man who robbed his father, and turned His face away from him who only fired his house to get tho insurance.' The air ceased to sparkle as Miss Jordan rodo tlio second stage of her journey; tho sun was less bright, the fragrance of tho gorso loss sweet. She did not speak to her young groom tho whole way, but rodo silently, with compressed lips and moody brow. Tho case was worso than she had anticipated. Jasper had robbed his father, and all that story of his coming as a messenger from Mr. 13abb with the money was false. One evening, unattended, Barbara Jordan rodo to I '4 i ■s i-^^i « ,.Ai-' r J' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ {./ ./. A ^' ^J!^ .V^ fe 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^128 12.5 ■50 1*^^ IhhHH •" El/. 2.0 1.4 1.6 V] <^ /i ^a ^/. ."■em ^''i >>' ^^ "* # 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 88 EVE Buckfastleigli, aBkeil for the house of Mr. Babb, and dig mounted at tlie door. The liouse "was a plain, ugly, square modern erection, almost an insult to the beauty of the surroundings. The drive from the entrance gate was grass-grown. There was a stucco porch. The door was painted drab, and the paint was blistered, and had flaked off. The house also was mottled. It had been painted over plaster and cement, and tlic paint had curled and come off in patches. The whole place had an uncared-for look. There were no flower beds, no creepers against the walls ; the rain-shoots to tlie roof were cliolcod, and the overflowing water had covered the walls where it reached with slime, black and green. At the back of the liouse was a factory, worked by a water-wheel, for cloth, and a gravel well-trodden path led from the back door of the house to the factory. Barbara had descended from her cob to open the gate into the drive ; and she walked up to the front door, lead- ing her horse. There she rang the bell, but had doubts whetlier the wire were sound. She waited a long time, and no one responded. She tried the bell again, and then rapped with the handle of her whip against the door. Then she saw a face appear at a side window, observe her and "withdraw. A moment after, a shuffling tread sounded in the hall, chains and bolts were undone, the door was cautiously opened, and in it stood an old man with white hair, and black beady eyes. ' What do you want ? "Who are you ? ' he asked. • Am I speaking to :\Ir, Babb ? ' ' Yes, vou are.' * May I have a few words with you in private ? ' * Oh, there is no one in the house, except my house- keeper, and she is deaf. You can say what you want here.' ' Who is there to take my horse '? ' • You can hold him by the bridle, and talk to me where you stand. There's no occasion for you to come in.' MR. BABE AT HOME 89 Barbara saw into the liiill ; it was floored with stone, the Buckfastleigh marble, but unpolished. The walls had been papered with glazed imitation panelling, but the paper had peeled oil", and lunig in strips. A chair with wooden scat, that had not been wiped for weeks, a set of coat and hat pegs, some broken, on one a very discoloured great coat and a battered hat. In a corner a bulging green umbrella, the silk detached from the whalebone. * You see,' said the old man grimly, half turning, as he noticed that Barbara's eyes were observing ihe interior ; ' you see, this is no place for ladies. It is a weaving spider's web, not a gallant's bower.' * But ' the girl hesitated, • what I have to say is very particular, and I would not be overheard on any account.' ' Ah 1 ah ! ' he giggled, * I'll have no games played with me. I'm no longer susceptible to fascination, and I ain't worth it ; on my sacred word I'm not. I'm very poor, very poor now. You car see it for yourself. Is this house kept up, and the garden ? Does the hall look like a lap of luxury ? I'm too poor to be a catch, so you may go away.' Barbara would have laughed had not the nature of her visit been so serious. * I am Miss Jordan,' she said, * daughter of Mr. Jordan of Morwell, from whom you borrowed money seventeen years ago.' ' Oh ! ' he gave a start of surprise. * Ah, well, I have sent back as much as I could spare. Some was stolen. It is not convenient to me after this reverse to find all now.' * My father has received nothing. What you sent wag lost or stolen on the way.' The old man's jaw fell, and he stared blankly at her. ' It is as I say. My father has received nothing.' ' I sent it by my son.' * He has lost it.' * It is false. He has stolen it* * What is to be done ? ' "O EVE !M * Oil, that is for your fatlior to decide. When my son robbed mo, I locked him up. Now let your father poe to it. I have done my duty, my conscience is clear.' Barbara looked steadily, with some curiosity, into his face. The face was repulsive. Tlie strongly marked fea- tures which might have been handsome in youth, were ex- a.u'gerated b^ ago. Ilis white hair was matted and un- combed, lie had run his fingers througli it whilst engaged on his accounts, and had divided it into rat's-tails. His chin and jaws were fi'ou/y with coarse white bristles. In }iis black eyes was a keen twinkle of avarice and cunning. Old age and the snows of the winter of life soften a harsh face, if there bo any love in it ; but in this there was none. If a fire had burnt on tho hearth of the old man's heart, not a spark remained alive, the hearth was choked with grey a^'hes. Barbara traced a resemblance between the old man and his son. From his father, Jasper had derived his aquiline nose, and the shape of mouth and chin. But the expression of the faces was different. That of Jasper was noble, that of his father mean. The eyes of the son were gentle, those of Mr. Babb hard as pebbles that liau been polished. As Barbara talked with and observed the old man she recalled what Jasper had said of ill-treatment and lack of love. There was no tenderness to be got out of such 2: man as that before her. *Now look you here,' said Mr. Babb. 'Do you seo that stretch of Held yonder where the cloth is strained ni the sun ? Very well. That cloth is mine. It is woven in my mill yonder. That held was purchased seventeen years ago for my accommodation. I can't repay the money now without selling the factory or the held, and neither is worth a shilling without the other. No— we must all put up with losses. I have mine ; the Lord sends your father his. A wise Providence orders all that. Tell him so. Ilis heart has been hankering after mammon, and now Heaven hag deprived him of it. I've had losses too. I've learned to MR. BABB AT HOME 91 bear tlicm. So must ho. \Vlrit is your name ? — I mean your Christian name ? ' * Barbara.' ' Oh ! not Eve — dear, no. You don't look as if that ^vc^o your n:ime.' ' I'ivc is my sister — my lialf-si-jter.' ' Ah, ha! the elder daughter. And ^vhat has become of the little one ? ' ' She is well, at homo, and beautiful as she is good. She is not at all like me.' * That is a good job — for you. I msan, that you are not like her. Is she lively ? * ' Oil, like a lark, singing, dancing, merry.' ' Of course, thoughtless, light, .1 feather that flies and tosses in the breath.' ' To return to the money. It wis to have been my sister's.' ' Well,' said the old man with a giggle, 'let it so re- main. It 7rrt.s to have been. Now it camiot be. Whose fault is that ? Not mine. I kept the money for your father. I am a man of my word. When I make a cove- nant I do not break it. But my son — my son! ' * Your son is now with us.' ' You say he has stolen the money. Let your father not spare him. There is no good in being lenient. Bo just. When my son robbed me, I did not spare him. I will not lift a little finger to save Jasper, who now, as you scvy, lias robbed your father. Wait where you are ; I will run in, and write something, wliich will perhaps satisfy ^Mr. Jordan ; wait here, you cannot enter, or your horse would run away. What did you give for that cob ? not much. Do you want to sell him ? I don't mind ten pounds. lie's not worth more. See how he hangs his off hind log. That's o o a blemish that would stand in your way of selling. Would you like to go over the factory ? No charge, you can tip the foreman a shilling. No cloth weaving your way, only wool growing ; and— judging from what I saw of your h' 92 EVE fatlier — wool-gathering.' With a cackle the old man slipped in and shut the door in Barbara's face. Miss Jordan stood patting the neck of her disparaged horse. ' You are not to be parted with, are you, Jock, to an old skinflint who would starve you ? ' The cob put his nose on her shoulder, and rubbed it. She looked round. Everything spoke of sordidness, only the factory seemed cared for, whore money was made. None was wasted on the adornmont, even on the decencies, of life. The door opened. Mr. Cabb had locked it after him aa he went in. He came out with a folded letter in his hand. * Here,' he said, ' give that to your father.' ' I must tell you, Mr. Btibb, that your son Jasper is with us. He professes to have lost th3 money, He met with an accident and was nearly killed. He remains with us, as a sort of steward to my father, for a while, only for a while.' ' Let him stay. I don't want him back, I won't have him back. I dare say, now, it would do him good to have liis Bible. I'll give you that to take to him. He may read and come to repentance.' ' It is possible that there may be other things of his he will want. If you can make them up into a bundle, I will send for them. No,' she said after a pause, ' I will not send for them. I will take them myself.' • You will not mind staying there whilst I fetch them ? ' said Mr. Babb. ' Of course you won't. You have the horse to hold. If you like to take a look round the garden you may, but there is nothing to see. Visit the mill if you like. You can give twopence to a boy to hold the horse.' Then he slipped in again and relocked the door. Barbara was only detained ten minutes. Mr. Babb came back with a jumble of clothes, a Bible, and a violin, not tied together, but in his arms anyhow. He threw everything on the doorstep. MR. BABB AT HOME ' There,' ho said, ' I will hold the bridle, whilst you make this into a bundle. I'm not natty with my fingers.' He took the horse from her. Barbara knelt under the por- tico and folded Jasper's clothes, and tied all together in an old table cover the father gave for the purpose. ' Take the fiddle,' he said, ' or I'll smash it.' She looked up at him gravely, whilst knotting the ends. * Have you a message for your &on — of love and for- giveness ? ' * Forgiveness ! it is your father he has robbed. Love There is no love lost between us.' ' He v\ lonely and sad,' said Barbara, not now looking up, but busy with lier hands, tightening the knots and intent on the bundle. ' I can see that his heart is ach- ing ; night and day there is a gnawing pain in his breast. No one loves him, and he seems to me to be a man who craves for love, who might be reclaimed by love.' * Don't forget the letter for your father,' said Mr. Babb. * What about your son ? Have you no message for him?' ' None. Mind that envelope. What it contains is pre- cious.' * Is it a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds ? ' * Oh, dear me, no ! It is a text of scripture.' Then, hastily, Mr. Babb stepped back, shut the door, and bolted and chained it. CHAPTER XIV. A SINE QUA NON. Barbaea was on her way home from Ashburton. She had attended her aunt's funeral, and knew that a little sum of about ^fty pounds per annum was hers, left her by her aunt. She was occupied with her thoughts. Was there K 94 £1'/^ u 1' til ly justification for Jaspor ? The falliov ^vas liatoful. She his Icaviii'' liomc ; that Avas iiothiiiir could excuse sucli a home must be intolerable to a young man of s])int •h — but to rob Jiis father was another matter. ]3aibara could not quite riddle the pu/./le out in her mind. Itr was clear that Mr. Babb had confided the fii'leen hundred pounds to Jasper, and that Jasper had made away with them. lie had been taken and sent to prison at Prince's Town, Thence he had escaped, and whilst escaping jjad met witli the accident which had brought Jiim to become an inmate of Morwell House. Jasper's story tluit he had lost the money was false. He had himself taken it. Barbara could not quite make it out ; she tried to ])ut it from her. What mattered it how the robbery had bei'ii connnitted? — sulli- cient that the man who took the money was with her father. What had he done with the money ? That no one but himself could tell, and that she would not ask him. It was vain crying over spilt milk. Fifteen hundred pounds were gone, and the loss of that money might afi'ect Eve's prospects. Eve was already attracting admiration, but who would lake her for her beauty alone ? I'.ve, I'ur- bara said to herself, was a jewel that nnist he kept in a velvet and morocco case, and must not be put to rough usage. She must have money. She must marry where nothing would bo required of her but to look and be — charming. It was clear to Barbara that Mr. Coy she was struck with her sister, and Mr. Coyslie was a promising, pushing man, sure to make his way. If a n 'in has a high opinion of him- self he impresses others with belief in him. ]\lr. Jordan was loud in liis praises ; Barbara had sufilcient sense to dislike his boasting, but she was influciu-ed by it. Though his manner was not to her taste, she was convinced that Mr. Coyslie was a genius, and a man whose name would be known through England. What was to be done ? The only thing she could think of was to insist on her father mnking over Morwell to Evo 4 S/.W: OCA AON 95 on his tlc-alh ; as for herself — she had her lifiy pnnncls, and bIio could gc as housekeeper to some lady ; the Duchess of 1 Bedford ^vou^d reccnnnend her. She was was not likely to ho thought of by any man with only fifty pounds, and Avith a plain face. When Barbara reached this point sho laughed, and then she sighed. Bho laughed because the idea of her being married was so absurd. She sighed hecauso she was tired. Just then, quite uncalled for and unexpected, tlie form of Jasper iJabb rose up before her mind's eye, as she had last seen him, pale, locking after her, waving his hat. She was returning to him without a word from his father, of forgiveness, of encouragement, of love. Slie was scheming a future for herself and for Eve ; Jasper had no future, only a horrible past, which cast its shadow forward, and took all hope out of the present, and blighted the future. If she could but have brought him a kind message it would have inspired him to redeem his great fault, to per- severe in well-doing. She knew that fche would ihid him watching for her return with a wistful look in his dark full eyes, asking her if she brought him consolation. Then sho reproached herself because she had left his parting farewell unacknowledged. She had been ungra- cious ; no doubt she had hurt his feelings. {She had passed through Tavistock, with her groom riding some way behind her, -when she heard the sound of a trot- ting horse, and almost immediately a well-known voice called, ' Glad to see your face turned homewards. Miss Jordan.' ' Good evening, Mr. Coyshe.' ' Our roads run together, to my advantage. AVhat id that you are carrying ? Can I relieve you ? ' ' A violin. The boy is careless, I'e might let it fall. Besides he is burdened with my valise and a bundle.' ♦ What ? has your aunt bequeathed a violin to you ? ' A little colour came into Barbara's cheeks, and she 96 EVE ii' I answered, ' 1 am bringing it homo from over tlio moor,* Slio blnsliccl to liavo to equivocate. ' I hope you lia\ liad something more substantial left you than an old fiddle,' said tlie surgeon. * Thank you, my poor aunt has been good enough to leave mo sometliing comfortable, ^vllich will enable my dear father to make up to Eve for the sum that has been lost.' * I am glad to hear it,' said Mr. Coyslie. * Charmed ! ' * By the way,' ] Barbara began, * I wanted to say some- thing to you, but I have not had the opportunity. You were quite in tlie wrong about the saucer of sour milk, tliougli I admit tliero was a stocking — but how you saw that, passes my comprehension.' * I did not see it, I divined it,' said the young man, with his protruding light eyes staring at her with an odd mis- chievous expression in them. ' It is part of the mysteries of medicine — a faculty akin to inspiration in some doctors, that they see with their inner eyes what is invisible to the outer eye. For instance, I can see right into your heart, and I see there something that looks to me very much like the wound I patched up in Mr. Jasper's pate. Whilst his has been healing, yours has been growing worse.' Barbara turned cold and shivered. ' For heaven's sake, Mr. Coyshe, do not say such things ; you frighten me.' He laughed. She remained silent, uneasy and vexed. Presently she said, ' It is not true ; there is nothing the matter with me.' * But the stocking was under the sofa-cushion, and you said, Not true, at first. Wait and look.' * Doctor, it is not true at all. That is, I have a sort of trouble or pain, but it is all about Eve. I have been very unhappy about the loss of her money, and that has fretted me greatly.' * I foresaw it would be lost.' * Yes, it is lost, but Eve shall be no Joser.' * Look here. Miss Jordan, a beautiful face is like a A SIXE nuA NON 97 beautiful song, charming in itself, but infinitely bettor with an accompaniment.' * What do you mean, Mr. Coy she ? ' ♦A sweet girl may have beauty and amiability, but though these may be excellent logs for the matrimonial stool, a third must be added to prevent an upset, and that —metallic' Barbara made no reply. The audacity and impudence of the young surgeon took the power to reply from her. ' You have not given me that fiddle,' said Coysho. ' I am not sure you will carry it carefully,' answered Barbara ; nevertheless she resigned it to him. ' When you part from me let the boy have it. I will not ride into ^lor- well cumbered with it.' * A doctor,' said Coy she, ' if he is to succeed in his pro- fession, must be endowed with instinct as well as science. A cat does not know what ails it, but it knows when it is out of sorts ; instinct teaches it to swallow a blade of grass. Instinct with us discovers the disorder, science points out the remedy. I may say without boasting that I am brim- ming with instinct — you have had a specimen or two — and I have passed splendid examinations, so that testifies to my science. Beer Alston cannot retain me long, my proper sphere is London. I understand the Duke has heard of me, and said to someone whom I will not name, that if I come to town he will introduce me. If once started on the rails I must run to success. Now I want a word with you in confidence. Miss Jordan. That boy is sufficiently in the rear not to hear. You will be mum, I trust ? ' Barbara slightly nodded her assent. * I confess to you that I have been struck with your sister, Miss Eve. Who could fail to see her and not be- come a worshipper ? She is a radiant star ; I have never seen anyone so beautiful, and she is as good as she is beautiful.' * Indeod, indeed she is,' said Barbara, earnestly. * Montecuculli said,' continued the surgeon, ' that in II 'k h' 1 1 98 /rrv; wnr tlircc things arc noccssiiry : money; .secondly, money; thirdly, money. In lovo it is tho .same. AVc may rejjjret it, hut it is und( niahle.' Uarhara did not kr.ow what to say. Tho assurance of the yoinif,' man imposed on her ; she did not like him par- ticularly, but he \vas .'^u[)erior in culture to most of the yr)un<,' men she knew, who had no idea.s beyond Inmtinj,' inid shootin;^'. After a little while of consideration, she .said, ' Do you think you would make Eve happy ? ' • I am Kure of it. I have all the instincts of the family- mini ii! me. A man may marry a score of times and bo father of fifty children, without instinct developing' tho I [x'cial features of domesticity. They are born in a man, not acfpiired. Valcr-fiimilids iKiscilnr, no}ijil,' ' Have you spoken to my father? ' ' No, not yet ; I am oidy feeliuf^ my way. I don't mind telling you what brought me into notice with the Puke. He was ill last autunm Avlien down at Kndsleigh for the .shooting, and his physician was sent for. I met the doctor at the Ijcdford Imi at Tavistock; some of us of the faculty had an evening together, and his CI race's condition was discussed, casually of course. I said nothing. ^Vc wero .smoking and drinking rum and water. There was some- thing in his Grace's coiulition which puzzled his physician, and he clearly did not understand how to treat the case. / knew. I have instinct. Some rum had been spilled on the table ; I dipped the end of my pipe in it, and scribbled a prescription on tho mahogany. I saw the eye of the doctor on it. I have reason to believe he used my remedy. It answered. Ho is not ungrateful. I say no more. A city set on a hill camiot bo hid. Beer Alston is a bushel covering a light. Wait.' Barbara said nothing. Slie rodo on, deep in thought. The surgeon jogged at her side, his protruding watcr-bluo eyes peering in all directions. ' You think your sister will not be penniless ? ' he said. m 1 ! 1 A S/.V/: QUA AO.V 99 * I nm covtiiiii slic ^vill not. Now tliiit my aunt has provided for iiic, I'.ve will liavo Moi-widl tifioi" my father's death, and I am sum she is weleome to what ('omes to mt; from my aunt till then.' ' Halt! ' cxelaimed the snri,'eon. ])arl)ara drew rein sinudtaneonsly with ^Ir. Coyslie. ' \Vho are you there, wateliin.L,', following,' us, skulkin,!^ behind bushes and hedt,'es ? ' shouted Coyshe. ' AVJiat is it'.'' asiu'd Miss Jordan, surpri-ed and alarmed. The sur;;eon did not answer, but raised to lii> slioul Icr a stiek he carried. ' Answer ! Who are vou? Show vourself, or I iir(> ! ' ' Doctor Coyshe,' excdaimed JJarhai'a, * forbtar in pity ! ' * Aly dear Miss .Jordan,' he said in a low tone, ' set your mind at rest. I have only an umbrella stiek, of whieh all the apparatus is blown away except the catch. Who is there? ' ho cried, iv^Ain presentin,^' his stick. * Once, twice! ' — click -went the catch. ' If I call threo and fire, your blood bo on your own head ! ' There issued in response a scream, ])ierciiii,' in its shrill- ness, inhuman in its tone. Barbara shuddered, and her horse plunged. A mocking burst of laughter ensued, and then forth from the bushes into the road leaped an impish boy, who drew a bow over the catgut of a fiddle under liis chin, and ran along before them, laughing, lenping, and evoking un- couth aiul shrill screams from his instrument. ' A pixy,' said the surgeon. ' J. knew by instinct one was dodging us. Fortunately I could lujt lay my hand on a riding whip this morning, and so took my old umbrella stick. Now, farewell, ^o you think Miss Vav will have Morwell, and the matrimonial stool its golden kg ? That is right.' n 2 lOO EVE f !i^ CHAPTER XV. AT THE QUAY. On the day of Barbara's departure Eve attended diligently to the duties of the house, and found that everything was in such order that she was content to believe that all would go on of its own accord in the old way, without her super- vision, which declined next day, and was pretermitted on the third. Jasper did not appear for mid-day dinner ; he was busy on the old quay. He saw that it must be put to rights. The woods could be thinned, the coppice shredded for bark, and bark put on a barge at the bottom of the almost pre- cipitous slope, and so sent to the tanyards at Devonport. There was waste of labour in carrying the bark up the hills and then carting it to 13ecr Ferris, souie ten miles. No wonder that, as Mr. Jordan complained, the bark was unremunerativo. The profit was eaten up hy the wasteful transport. It was the same with the timber. There was demand for oak and pine at the dockyards, and any amount was grown in the woods of Morwell. So Jasper asked leave to have the quay put to rights, and Mr. Jordan consented. He must supervise proceed- ings himself, so he remained the greater part of the day by the river edge. The ascent to Morwell House was ardr.ous if attempted directly up the steep fall, long if he went by the zigzag through the wood. It would take him a stiff three-quarters of an hour to reach the house and half-an-hour to return. Accordingly he asked that his dinner might be sent him. On the third day, to Eve's dismay, she found that she had forgotten to let him have his food, both that day and the preceding. lie had made no remark when he came AT THE QUAY lOI '■\ back the day before. Eve's conscience smote her — a con- valescent left for nine or ten hours without food. When she recalled her promise to send it him she found that there was no one to send. In shame and self- reproach, she packed a little basket, and resolved to carry it to him. The day was lovely. She put her broad- brimmed straw hat, trimmed with forget-me-not bows, on her head, and started on her walk. The bank of the Tamar falls from lii;,'li moorland many hundreds of feet to the water's edge. In some plac s the rocks rise in sheer precipices with gullies of coppice and heather between them. Elsewhere the fall is less abrupt, and allows trees to grow, and the richness of the soil and the friable nature of the rock allows them to grow to con- siderable dimensions. From Morwell House a long cUtour through beautiful forest, affording peeps of mountains and water, gave the easiest descent to the quay, but Eve reserved this road for the ascent, and slid merrily down the narrow corkscrew path in the brushwood between the crags, which afforded the quickest way down to the water's edge. 'Oh, Mr. Jasper!' she exclaimed, 'I have sinned, through my forgetfulness ; but see, to make amends, I have brought you a little bottle of papa's Burgundy and a wee pot of red currant jelly for the cold mutton.' • And you have come yourself to overwhelm me v/itli a sense of giatitude.' • Oh, Mr. Jasper, I am so ashamed of my naughtiness. I assure you I nearly cried. Bab— I mean Barbara — would never have forgotten. She remembers everythiiig. Her head is a perfect store-closet, where all things are in place and measured and weighed and on their proper shelves. You had no dhmer yesterday.' • To-day's ig a banquet that makes up for all defi- ciencies.' Eve liked Jasper; she had few to converse with, very few acquaintances, no friends, and she was delighted to be : I 102 EVE I:. I lit ' II li !■ I able to have a chat ■with anyone, especially if that person flattered her — and \y1io did not ? Everyone naturally offered incense before her ; she almost demanded it as a right. The Tamar formed a little bay under a wall of rock. A few ruins marked the site of the storehouses ana boatsheds of the abbois. The sun glittered on the water, forming of it a bla/in," mirror, and the dancmg light was reflected back by tlie flower-wreathed rocks. ' ^Vhcre are the men ? ' asked l^ve. ' Gone into tlie wood to fell some phics. We must drive piles into tlie bed of the river, and lay beams on them for a basement.' ' Oh,' said Eve listlessly, ' I don't understand about basements and all that.' She seated herself on a log. ' Kow pleasant it is here with the flicker of the water in one's face and eyes, and a sense of being v/ithoufc shadow ! Mr. Jasper, do you believe in pixies ? ' ' What do you mean, Miss '? ' ' The little imps who live in the mines and on the moors, and play mischievous tricks on mortals. They have the nature of spirits, and yet they have human shapes, and are like old men or boys. They watch trea- sures and veins of ore, and when mortals approach the metal, ihey decoy the trespassers away.' ' Like the lapwing that pretends to be wounded, and so lures you from its precious eggs. Do you believe in pixies ? ' ICve laughed and shook her pretty head. ' I think so, Mr. Jasper, for I have seen one.' • ^yhat was he like ? ' * I do not kno-\>', I only caught glimpses of him. Do not laugh satirically. I am serious. I did see something, but I don't know exactly diat I saw.' ' That is not a very c ivincing reason for the existence of pixies.' Eve drew her little feet together, and folded her arms in her lap, and smiled, and tossed her head. She 1'^ AT THE QUAY ic had taken off lier hat, and the sun glorified her shining liv^ad. Jasper looked admiringly at her. ' Are you not afraid of a sunstroke, Miss Eve ? ' '0 dear no! The sun cannot harm me. I love liiiii so passionately. Mr. Jasper ! I wish sometimes I lived fur away in another country where there arc no wet days and grey skies and muggy atmosplioros, and wliero the hedges do not drip, and the lanes do not stand ankl(! deep in nuid, and the old walls exude moisture indoors, and one's pretty shoes do not go mouldy if not wiped over daily. I should like to ho in a land like Italy, where all the people sing and dance and keep holiday, and the hells in the towers are ever ringing, and the lads have hunches of gold and silver llowers in their hats, and the girls Ikivo scarlet skirts, and the village musicians sit in a cuit adorned with hirch hranchcs and ribands and roses, and the trumpets go tu-tu ! and the drums bung-bung ! — I have read about it, and cried for vexation that I was not there.' ' But the pixy ? ' ' I would banish all pixies and black Coppleslones and Whisli hounds ; they belong to rocks and moors and darkness and storm. I hate gloom and isolation.' ' You are happy at Morwell, Miss Eve. One has but to look in your face and see it. Not a crabbed line of care, not the track of a tear, all smoothness and smiles.' The girl twinkled with pleasure, and said, ' That is because we are in midsummer ; wait till winter and see what becomes of me. Then I am sad enough. Wo are shut in for five months — six months — seven almost, by mud and water. 0, how the winds howl ! How the trees toss and roar ! How the rain patter-; ! That is not plea- sant. I wish, I do wish, I were a squirrel ; then I would coil myself in a corner lined with moss, and cracli nuts in a doze till the sun came again and woke me up with tliu flowers. Then I would throw out all my cracked nut- i I II ' I ■{i'l;,( I 'I I 11 104 EVE shells with both paws, and leap to the foot of a tree, run up it, and skip from branch to branch, and swing in the summer sunshine on the topmost twig. 0, Mr. Jasper, how much wiser than we the swallows are ! I would rather be a swallow than a squirrel, and sail away when I felt the first frost to the land of eternal summer, into the blazing eye of the sun.' ' But as you have no wings ' * I sit and mope and talk to Barbara about cows and cabbages, and to father aboat any nonsense that comes into my head.' • As yet you have given me no description of the pixy.' • How can I, when I scarce saw him ? I will tell you exactly what happened, if you will not curl up the corner of your lips, as though mocking me. That papa never does. I tell him all the rhodomontade I can, and he listens gravely, and frightens and abashes me sometimes by swallowing it whole.' * Where did you see, or not see, the pixy ? ' * On my way to you. I heard something stirring in the wood, and I half saw what I took to be a boy, or a little man the size of a boy. When I stood still, he stood ; when I moved, I fancied he moved. I heard the crackle of sticks and the stir of the bushes. I am sure of nothing.' ' Were you frightened ? ' ' No ; puzzled, not frightened. If this had occurred at night, it would have been different. I thought it might have been a red-deer ; they are here sometimes, strayed from Exmoor, and have such pretty heads and soft eyes ; but this was not. I fancied once I saw a queer little face peering at me from behind a pine tree. I uttered a feeble cry and ran on.' • I know exactly what it was,' said Jasper, with a grave smile. ' There is a pixy lives in the Raven Rock ; he has a smithy far down in the heart of the cliflf, and there he works all winter at a vein of pure gold, hammering and turning the golden cups and marsh marigolds with which AT THE nUAY !05 to strew the pastures and watercourses in spring. But it is dull for the pixy sitting alone without light ; he has no one to love and care for him, and, though the gold glows in his forge, his little heart is cold. He ha^ been dream- ing all winter of a sweet fairy he saw last summer wearing a crown of marigold, wading in cuckoo flowers, n.nd now he has come forth to capture that fairy and draw her down into his stony palace.' * To waste her days,' laughed Eve, * in sighing for the sun, whilst her roses wither and her eyes grow dim, away from the twitter of the birds and the scent of the gorse. He shan't have me.' Then, after a pause, during which she gathered some marigolds and put them into her hat, she said, half seriously, half jestingly, * Do you believe in pixies ? ' * You must not ask me. I have seen but one fairy in all my life, and she now sits before me.' ' Mr. Jasper,' said Eve, with a dimple in her cheek, in recognition of the compliment, — ' Mr. Jasper, do you know my mother is a mystery to me as much as pixies and fairies and white ladies ? ' ' No, I was not aware of that.' * She was called, like me, Eve.' * I had a sister of that name who is dead, and my mother's name was Eve. She is dead.' ' I did not think the name was so common,' said the girl. * I fancied we were the only two Eves that ever were. I do not know what my mother's other name was. Is not that extraordinary ? ' Jasper Babb made no reply. * I have been reading " Undine." Have you read that story ? 0, it has made me so excited. The writer says- that it was founded on what he read in an old author, ana that author, Paracelsus, is one papa believes in. So, I suppose, there is some truth in the tale. The story of my mother is quite like that of Undine. One night my father heard a cry on the moor, and he went to the place, and n I ! i If! 1 06 EVE ill % \m\ 'Ji ' 'I !■ ■■! found my mother all alone. Blie was with him for a year and a day, and -would have stayed longer if my father could have refrained from asking her name. ^Vhen he did that she was forced to leave him. She was never seen again.' * Miss Eve, this cannot he true.' ' I do not know. That is what old lletsy Davy told me. Papa never speaks of her. He has been an altered man since she left him. llo put up the stone cross on the moor at the spot where he found her. I like to fancy there was something mysterious in her. I can't ask papa, and Bab was — I mean Barbara — was too young at the time to remember ajiything about it.' * This is very strange.' * Betsy Davy says that my father was not properly married to her, because he could not get a priest to per- form the ceremony without knowing what slie was.' ' My dear Miss I'^ve, instead of listening to the cock- and-bull stories ' * Mr. Jasper ! How can you — how can you use such an expression ? The story is very pretty and romantic, and not at all like things of this century. I dare say there is some truth in it.' ' I am far from any intention of offending you, dear young lady ; but I venture to oiler you a piece of advice. Do not listen to idle tales ; do not encourage people of a lower class to speak to you about your mother ; ask your father what you want to know, he will tell you ; and take my word for it, romance there always must bo in love, but there will be nothing of what you imagine, with a fancy set on hre by '• Undine." ' Her volatile mind had flown elsewhere. * Mr. Jasper,' she said, ' have you ever been to a theatre ? ' * Yes.' * 0, I should like it above everything else. I dream of it. We have Inchbald's " British Theatre " in the library, and it is my dearest reading. Barbara likes a cookery AT THE QUAY 107 book or a book on farming ; I cannot abide them. Do you know what ]Mr. Coyslio said the other day when I was ratthng on before him and papa ? He said I had missed my vocation, and ought to have been on the stage. What do you think ? ' *I think a loving and merciful Providence has done best to put such a precious treasure here where it can best be preserved.' ' I don't agree with you at all,' said Eve, standing up. ' I think Mr. Coyslio showed great sense. Anyhow, I should like to see a theatre — 0, above everything in the world! Papa thinks of Rome or the Holy Land; but I say — a theatre. I can't help it ; I think it, and must say it. Good-bye ! I have things my sister left that I must attend to. I wish she were back. Oh, Mr. Jasper, do not vou ? ' * Everyone will be pleased to welcome her home.' ' Because I have let everything go to sixes and sevens, eh ? ' ' For her own sake.' ' Well, I do miss her dreadfully, do not you ? ' He did not answer. Bhe cast him another good-bye, and danced off into the wood, swinging her hat by the blue ribands. I CHAPTER XVI. WATT. The air under the pines was balmy. The hot July sun brought out their resinous fragrance. Gleams of hre fell through the boughs and dappled the soil at intervals, and on these sun-flakes numerous fritillary butterflies with silver under-wings were fluttering, and countless flies were humming. The pines grew only at the bottom of the crags, and hero and there in patches on the slopes. The I i II' lo8 EVE M l! I I I woods were composed for the most part of oak, now in its richest, fullest foliage, the golden hue of early spring changing to the duller green of summer. Beech also abounded with their clean stems, and the soil beneath them bare of weed, and here and there a feathery birch with erect silver stem struggled up in the overgrowth to the light. The wood was full of foxgloves, spires of pink dappled bells, and of purple columbine. "Wild roses grew wherever a rock allowed them to wreath in sunshine and burst into abundant bloom over its face. Eve carried her straw hat on her arm, hung by its blue ribands. She needed its shelter in the wood no more than in her father's hall. She came to a brook, dribbling and tinkling on its way through moss and over stone. The path was fringed with blazing marigolds. Eve had already picked some, she now halted, and brimmed the extemporised basket with more of the golden flowers. The gloom, the fragrant air, the flicker of colour made her think of the convent chapel at Lanherne, whither she had been sent for her education, but whence, having pined under the restraint, she had been speedily removed. As she walked she swung her hat like a censer. From it rose the fresh odour of flowers, and from it dropped now and then a marigold like a burning cinder. Scarce thinking what she did. Eve assumed the slow and measured pace of a religious procession, as she had seen one at Lanherne, still swinging her hat, and letting the flowers fall from it whilst she chanted meaningless words to a sacred strain. Then she caught her straw hat to her, and holding it be- fore her in her left arm, advanced at a quicker pace, still singing. Now she dipped her right hand in the crown and strewed the blossoms to left and right, as did the little girls in the Corpus Christi procession round the convent grounds at Lanherne. Her song quickened and brightened, and changed its character as her flighty thoughts shifted to other topics, and her changeful mood assumed another WATT 109 complexion. Her tune became that of the duet La cl darcm la mano, in * bon Giovanni,' which she had often sung with her sister. She sang louder and more joyously, and her feet moved in rhythm to this song, as they had to the ecclesiastical chant ; her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed. It seemed to her that a delicate echo accompanied her — very soft and spiritual, now in snatches, then low, roll- ing, long-drawn-out. She stopped and listened, then went on again. What she heard was the echo from Jie rocks and tree boles. But presently the road became steeper, and she could no longer spare breath for her song ; now the sacred chant was quite forgotten, but the sweet air of Mozart clung to her memory, as the scent of pot-pourri to a parlour, and there it would linger the rest of the day. As she walked on she was in a dream. What must it be to hear these songs accompanied by instruments, and with light and scenery, and acting on the stage ? Oh, that she could for once in her life have the supreme felicity of seeing a real play ! Suddenly a flash of vivid golden light broke before her, the trees parted, and she stood on the Eaven Eock, a preci- pice that shoots high above the Tamar and commands a wide prospect over Cornwall — Kingston Hill, where Athelstan fought and beat the Cornish in the last stand the Britons made, and Kitt Hill, a dome of moorclad mountain. As she stepped forth on the rock to enjoy the light and view and air, there rushed out of the oak and dog-wood bushes a weird boy, who capered and danced, brandished a fiddle, clapped it under his chin, and still dancing, played La ci darcm fast, faster, till his little arms went faster than Eve could see. The girl stood still, petrified with terror. Here was the Pixy of the Eaven Eock Jasper had spoken of. The malicious boy saw and revelled in her fear, and gambolled round her, grimacing and still fiddling till his tune led up to and finished in a shriek. IM! IIO EVE I I '1' ii 'I 'There, tlicro,' said lie, at length, lowcnng tho violin and how ; ' how I have scared you, ]-^vc ! ' Evo tremhlcd in every linih, and was too alarmed to speak. The scenery, tho rock, the hoy, swam in a hluo hazo before her eyes. * There, Eve, don't be frightened. You led mo on with your singing. I followed in your ilowery traces. Don't you know mo ? ' Eve shook her head. Slie could not speak. ' You have seen me. You saw me that night when I came riding over your downs at tho hack of Martin, when poor Jasper fell — you reuieiuber me. I smashed your rattle-trap gig. What a piece of good luck it was that Jasper's horse went down and not ou^s. I might have broken my fiddle. I'd rather break a leg, especially that of another person.' Eve had not thought of tho boy since tli? eventful iiight. Indeed, she had seen little of him then. 'I remember,' she said, ' there was a boy.' * Myself. Watt is my name, or in full, Walter. If you doubt my humanity touch my hand ; feel, it is warm.' Ho grasped Eve and drew her out on the rocky plat- form. ' Sit down. Eve. I know you better than you know me. I have heard Martin speak of you. That is how I know about you. Look me in the face.' Eve raised her eyes to his. The boy had a strange countenance. Tho hair was short-cropped and black, the skin olive. He had protruding and large ears, and very black keen eyes. * What do you think is my age ? ' asked the boy. ' I am nineteen. I am an ape. I shall never grow into a man.' He began again to skip and make grimaces. Eve shrank away in alarm. * There ! Put your fears aside, and be reasonable,' said Watt, coming to a rest. ' Jasper is below, munching his dinner. I have seen him. He would not eat whilst you J FA TT III wcro by. lie did not suspect I was lying on tlio rock overhead in tlic lieatli, pecrinjj; down on you l)otli whilst you were talldng. I can skip about, I can scrand)lo aiiy- wlierc, I can ahiiost fly. I do not wish Jasper to know I am here. No one must Ivuowbut yourself, for I have como liero on an errand to you.' ' To mo ! ' echoed Eve, hardly recovered from her terror. ' I am como from Martin, i'cu remember ^Martin ? Oh ! there arc not many men Hko ^lartin. Ho is a king of men. Imagine an okl town, with ancient houses and a clnu'cli tower behind, and the moon shining on it, and In tlie moonlight j\fartin in velvet, with a liat in which is a white feather, and his viohn, under a window, thinking you arc there, and singing Dcli, vieni alia Jincstra. Do you know the tune ? Listen.' The boy took his fiddle, and touching the strings with his fingers, as though play- ing a mandolin, }ig sang that sweet minstrel song. Eve's blue eyes opened wonderingly, this was all so strange and incomprehensible to her. ' Sec here, I\Iiss Zerlina, you were singing La cl clarcm just now, try it with me. I can take Giovanni's part and you that of Zerlina.' ' I cannot. I cannot, indeed.' ' You shall. I shall stand between you and tho wood. You cannot escape over the rock, you would be dasned to pieces. I will begin.' Suddenly a loud voice interrupted him as ho began to play_« Watt ! ' Standing under the shadow of tho oak's, with one foot on the rocky platform, was Jasper. * Watt, how came you here ? ' The boy lowered his violin and stood for a moment speechless. ' Miss Eve,' said Jasper, * please go home. After all, you have encountered the pixy, and that a malicious and dangerous imp. Stand aside, Watt.' 112 EVE The boy did not venture to resist. He stood back near the edge of the rock and allowed Eve to pass him. When she was quite gone, Jasper said gravely to the boy, ' What has brought you here ? ' ' That is a pretty question to ask me, Jasper. We left you here, broken and senseless, and naturally Martin and I want to know what condition you are in. How could we tell whether you were alive or dead ? You know very well that Martin could not come, so I have run here to obtain information.' * I am well,' answered Jasper, ' you may tell Martin, everywhere but here,' he laid his hand on his heart. * With such a pretty girl near I do not wonder,' laughed the boy. ' 1 shall tell poor Martin of the visits paid you at the water's edge.' * That will do,' said Jasper ; * this joking offends me. Tell Martin I am here, but with my heart aching for him.' * No occasion for that, Jasper. Not a cricket in the grass is lighter of spirit than he.' * I dare say,' said the elder, ' he does not feel matters acutely. Tell him the money must be restored. Here I stay as a pledge that the debt shall be paid. Tell him that I insist on his restoring the money.' ' Christmas is coming, and after that Easter, and then, all in good time, Christmas again ; but money once passed, returns no more.' ' I expect Martin to restore what he took. He is good at heart, but inconsiderate. I know Martin better than you. You are his bad angel. He loves me and is generous. He knows what I have done for him, and when I tell him that I must have the money back he will return it if he can.' * If he can ! ' repeated the boy derisively. ' It is well you have thrown in that proviso. I once tossed my cap into the Dart and ran two miles along the bank after it. I Eaw it for two miles bobbing on the ripples, but at last it WATT It went over the weir above Totiics and disappeared. 1 bo- lieve tliat cap was fislicd up at Dartnioutli and is now Avorn by the mayor's son. It is so with money. Once h.'t it out of your hands and it avails nothing to run after it. It disappears and comes up elsewhere to prolit others.* ' Wliere is Martin now '.' ' ' Anywliero and everywhere.' ' He is not in this county, I trust.' * Did you never hear of the old liuly who los^ the store closet key and Innited everywhere e\ee[)t i'l her own pocket ? What is under your nose is overlooked.' ' Go back to Martin. Tell him, as he values his safety and my peace of mind, to keep out of the country, certainly out of the county. Tell him to take to sonu) honest work and stick to it, and to begin his repentance by * ' There ! if I carry a i)reachment away with me I shiill never reach Martin. I had a surfeit of this in the olden days, Jasper. I know a sailor lad who has been fed on salt junk at sea till if you put but as much as will sit on the end of vour knife under his nose when he is on land he will upset the table. It is the same with ^lartin and me. No sermons for us, Jasper. So — see, I am oil at the first smell of a text.' lie darted into the wood and disappeared, singing at the top of his voice ' Life let us cherish.' CHAPTER XVIL FOKGET-ME-KOT ! That niglit Eve could not sleep. She thought of her wonderful adventure. Who was that strange boy ? And who was Martin ? And, what was the link between these two and Jasper ? Towards morning, when she ought to have been stir- ring, she fell asleep, and laughed in her dreams. She 114 EVE f'il I ' M woke with the sun si lining in on her, and her father stand* ^ijg by her bed, watching her. After the visions in which she had been steeped full of fair forms and brilliant colours, it was a shock to her to unclose her eyes on the haggard face of her lather, with sunken eyes. • A\'hat is it, papa ? ' ' ]\Iy dc;ir, it is ten o'clock. I have waited for my breakfast. The tea is cold, the toast has lost its crispness, and the eggs are like the tea — cold.' ' papa ! ' she said sorrowfully, sitting up in bed ; * I have overslept myself. Lut, you will not begrudge me the lovely dreams I have had. Papa ! I saw a pixy yesterday.' • Where, child ? ' • On the Piaven Piock.' Ho shu^ his eyes, and put his hand over his mouth. Then he heaved a deep sigh, said nothing, turned, and Avent out of the room. Eve was the idol of her father's heart. He spoiled her, by allowing her her own way in everything, by relieving her of every duty, and heaping all the responsibilities on the shoulders of his eldest daughter. Eve was so full of love and gaiety, that it was im- possible to bo angry with her when she made provoking mistakes ; she was so penitent, so pretty in her apologies, and so sincere in her purpose of amendment. Eve was warmly attatiied to her father. She had an affectionate nature, but none of her feelings were deep. Her rippling conversation, her buoyant spirits, enlivened the prevailing gloom of Mr. Jordan. His sadness did not depress her. Indeed, she hardly noticed it. Hers was not a sympathetic nature. She exacted the sympathy of others, but gave nothing more in return than prattle and laughter. yiio danced down the stairs when dressed, without any regi'ct for having kept her father waiting. He would eat a better breakfast for a little delay, she said to herself, and satisfied her conscience. FORGET-ME-KOT! 11 She came into tlio breakfast-room in a wliito muslin (Iress, covered with little blue sprigs, and with a blue riband in her golden hair. The lovely roses of her com- plexion, the sparkling eyes, the dimple in her chcelcs, the air of perfect content with herself, and with all the v>'orld, disarmed what little vexation hung in her father's mood. ' Do you think Bab will bo homo to-day ?' she asked, seating herself at the tea-tray without a word of apology for the lateness of her appearance. * I do not know what her movements are.' ' I hope she will. I want her home.' * Yes, she must return, to relieve you of your duties.' ' I am sure the animals want her home. The pigeons find I am not regular in throwing them barley, and I sometimes forget the bread-crumbs after a meal. The little black heifer always runs along the paddock when ]3ab goes by, and she is indifferent to me. !Slie lows when I appear, as much as to say, Where is Miss Barbara '.' Then the cat has not been himself for some days, and the little horse is in the dumps. Do you think brute beasts have souls ? ' ' I do not know.' Then after a pause, ' Wiiat was that you said about a pixy ? ' ' papa ! it was a dream.' She coloured. Something rose in h.er heart to check her from confiding to him what in her thoughtless freedom she was prepared to tell on first awaking. He pressed her no further. He doubtless believed she had spoken the truth. She had ever been candid. Now, however, she lacked courage to speak. She remembered that the boy had said ' I come to you with a message.' He had disappeared without giving it. What was that message ? Was he gone without delivering it ? Mr. Jordan slowly ate his breakfast. Every now and then he looked at his daughter, never steadily, for ho could look fixedly long at nothing. * I will tell you all, papa,' said Eve suddenly, shaking I a I i I Ii6 EVE i 'A lit licr head, to shake off the temptation to be untrue. Her better nature had prevailed. 'It was not a dream, it was a reahty. I did see a i)ixy on the Haven Rock, the mad- dest, merriest, ughcst imp in the world,' ' Wc are surrounded by an unseen creation,' said Mr. Jordan. ' The microscope reveals to us teeming life in a drop of water. Another generation will use an instrument that will show them the air full of living things. Then the laugh will be no more heard on earth. Life will be grave, if not horrible. Tliis generation is sadder than the last because less ignorant.' • papa ! lie was not a pixy at all. I have seen him before, when ]\Ir. Jasper was thrown. Then he was perched like an ape, as he is, on the cross you set up, where my mother iirst appeared to you. He was making screams with his fiddle.' Mr. Jordan looked at her with flickering, frightened eyes,, ' It was a spirit — the horse saw it and started — that was how Jasper was thrown,' he said gravely. •Here Jasper comes,' said F'r>, laughing; ' ask him.' But instead of waiting for her father to do this, she sprang up, and danced to meet him with the simplicity of a child, and clapping her palms, she asked, ' Mr. Jasper ! My father will have it that my funny little pixy was a spirit of the woods or wold, and will not believe that he is flesh and blood.' ' My daughter,' said Mr. Jordan, ' has told me a strange story. She says that she saw a boy on the — the Eaven liock, and that you know him.' ' Yes, I do.' • Whence comes he ? ' ' That I cannot say.' ' Where does he live ? * • Nowhere.' • Is he here still ? ' • I do not know.' ' Have you seen him before ? ' I ! FORGET-ME-NOT! 117 * Yes — often.' ' That "will do.' Mr. Jordan jerked liis head and waved his hand, m sign that he did not wish Jasper to remain. He treated Jasper with rudeness ; he resented the loss of Eve's money, and being a man of narrow mind and vin- dictive temper, he revenged the loss on the man who Vvas partly to blame for the loss. He brooded over his mis- fortune, and was bitter. The sight of Jasper irritated him, and he did not scruple at meals to make allusions to the lost money which must hurt the young man's feelings. "When Barbara was present, she interposed to turn the conversation or blunt the significance of her father's words. Eve, on the other hand, when Mr. Jordan spoke in a way she did not like to Jasper or Barbara, started up and left the room, because she could not endure discords. She sprang out of the way of harsh words as she turned from a brier. It did not occur to her to save others, she saved herself. Barbara thought of Jasper and her father, Eve only of herself. When Jasper was gone, Mr. Jordan put his hand to his head. * I do not understand, I cannot think,' he said, with a vacant look in his eyes. ' You say one thing, and he another.' ' Pardon me, dearest papa, we both say the same, that the pixy was nothing but a real boy of flesh and blood, but — there, let us think and talk of something else.' ' Take care ! ' said Mr. Jordan gloomily ; ' take care ! There are spirits where the wise see shadows ; the eye of the fool sees farther than the eye of the sage. jMy dear Eve, beware of the Raven Rock.' Eve began to warble the air of the serenade in ' Don Giovanni ' which she had heard the boy "Watt sing. Then she threw her arms round her father's neck. * Do not look 00 miserable, papa. I am the happiest little ii8 EVE being in the world, and I will kiss your cheeks till they dimple with laughter.' But instead of doing so, she dashed away to pick flowers, for she thought, seeing her- self in the glass opposite, tliat a bunch of forget-me-not in licr ])Osom was what lacked to perfcc*^^ her appearance in the l)lue-sprigged muslin. She knew where wild forget-me-nots grow. The Ab- bot's Well sent its little silver rill through rich grass towards the wood, where it spilled down the steep descent to tlie Tamar. She knew that forget-me-not grew at the border of the wood, just where tlu; st. ^am left the meadow and the glare of the sun for its pleasant shadow. As she approached the spot she saw the imp-like boy leap from behind a tree. lie held up his finger, put it to his lips, then beckoned her to follow him. This she would not do. She halted in tlie meadow, stooped, and, pretending not to see him, picked seme of the blue flowers she desired. lie came stealthily towards her, and pointed to a stone a few steps further, which was hidden from the house by the slope of the hill. ' I will tell you nothing unless you come,' he said. She hesitated a moment, looked round, and advanced to the place indicated. ' I will go no farther with you,' said she, putting her hand on the rock. ' I am afraid of you.' * It matters not,' answered the boy ; * I can say what I want here.' ' What is it ? Be quick, I must go home.' * Oh, you little puss ! Oh, you came out full of busi- ness ! I can tell you, you came for nothing but th.e chance of hearing what I forgot to tell you yesterday. I must give the message I was commissioned to bear before I can leave.' ' Who from ? ' * Can you ask ? From Martin.' ' But who is Martin ? ' FORGE T-ME-NO T! 119 * Sometimos ho is one thing, then another ; ho is Don Giovanni. Then ho is a king. There — ho is an actor. Will that content you ? ' ' What is his surname ? ' *0 Eve! daughter of Eve!' jeered the boy, 'all in- quisitiveness ! AVhat does that matter ? An actor takes what name suits him.' ' What is his message ? I must run home.' * He stole something from you — wicked ]\Iartin.' * Yes ; a ring.' ' And you — you stole his heart away. Poor ]\[artin has had no peace of mind since ho saw you. Ilis con- science has stung him like a viper. So ho has sent mo bock to you with the ring.' * Where is it ? ' * Shut yoar blue eyes, tliey dazzle me, and put out your finger.' ' Give me the ring, please, and let me go.' ' Only on conditions — not my conditions — those of Martin. He was very particular in his instructions to me. Shut your eyes and extend your dear little fnigcr. Next swear never, never to part with the ring I put on your finger.' ' That I never wall. Mr. Martin had no right to tako the ring. It was impertinent of him ; it made me very angry. Once I get it back I will never let the ring go again.' She opened her eyes. ' Shut ! shut ! ' cried the boy ; ' and now swear.' ' I promise,' said the girl. ' That sufliccs.' ' There, then, take the ring.' He thrust the circlet on her finger. She opened her eyes again and looked at her hand. ' Why, boy ! ' she exclaimed, ' this is not my ring. It is another.' ' To be sure it is, you little fool. Do you think that Martin would return the ring you gave him? No, no. He sends you this in exchange for yours. It is pretticri /20 EVE Look at the blue flower on it, formed of turquoise. For* get-me-not.' • I cannot keep this. I want my own,' said Eve, pout- ing, and her eyes filhng. ' You must abide Martin's time. Meanwhile retain this pledge.' ' I cannot ! I will not ! ' she stamped her foot petu- lantly on the oxalis and forget-me-not that grew beneath the rock, tears of vexation brimming in her eyes. ' You have not dealt fairly by me. You have cheated me.' ' Listen to me, j\Iiss Eve,' said the boy in a coaxing tone. ' You are a child, and have to bo treated as such. Look at the beautiful stones, observe the sweet blue flower. You know what that means — Forget-me-not. Our poor Martin has to ramble through the world with a heart-ache, yearn- ing for a pair of sparkling blue eyes, and for two wild roses blooming in the sweetest cheeks the sun ever kissed, and for a head of hair like a beech tree touched by frost in a blazing autumn's sun. Do you think he can forget these ? He carries that face of yours ever about with him, and now he sends you this ring, and that means — " Miss, you have made me very unhappy. I can never forget the little maid with eyes of blue, and so I send her this token to bid her forget me not, as I can never forget her." ' And as Eve stood musing with pouting lips, and trou- bled brow, looking at the ring, the boy took his violin, and with the fingers plucked the strings to make an accompani- ment as he sang : — A nuiiden stood beside a river, And with her pitcher seemed to play ; Then sudden stooped and drew up water, But drew my ^^eart as well away. And now I sigh beside the river, I dream about that maid I saw, I wait, I watch, am restless, weeping, Until she come again to draw. A .'lower '<., blooming by the river, A floweret with a petal blue. Forget me not, my love, my treasure ! My flower and heart are both for you, I FORGET-ME-NOT! 121 He played and sang a sweet, simple aiul plaintivu air. It touched Eve's heart ; always susceptible to music. Tier lips repeated after the hoy, * My flower and heart arc both for you.' She could not make up her mind what to do. While she hesitated, the opportunity of returning the ring was gone. Watt had disappeared into the bushes. CHAPTER XVIII. DISCOVERIES. A BEAUTIFUL summcr evening. Eve from her window saw Jasper in the garden ; he was trimming the flower- beds which had been neglected since Christopher Davy had been ill. The men were busy on the farm, too busy to be taken oft" for flower gardening. ]3arl)ara had said o):e day that it was a pity the beds were not put to rights ; and now Jasper was attending to her wishes during her absence. Mr. Jordan was out. He had gone forth Aviih his hammer, and there was no telling when he would return. Eve dis- liked being alone. She must talk to someone. She brushed her beautiful hair, looked in the glass, adjusted a scarf round her shoulders, and in a coquettish way tripped into the garden and began to pick the flowers, peeping at Jasper out of the corners of her eyes, to sec if he were observing her. He, however, paid no attention to what she was doing. In a lit of impatience, she flung the auri- culas and polyanthus she had picked on the path, and threw herself pouting into the nearest garden seat. * Mr. Jasper ! ' she called ; ' are you so mightily busy that you cannot aflbrd me a word .' ' * I am always and altogether at your service, dear ^liss Eve.' ' Why have you taken to gardening ? Are you fond of flowers ? • I Kill lui 122 EVE \\ ' I hi SiU;l. 1 : III I 'ill ^1' 'III 'I ii^ ' I am devoted to flowers.' * So am I. I pick 'liem.' * And throw them away,' said Jasper, stooping and col- lecting those she had strewn on the path. ' Well — I have not the patifsnee to garden. I leave all that to Barbara and old Christopher. I wish things gene- rally, gardens included, would go along without giving trouble. I wish my sister were home.' ' To relieve you of all responsibility and trouble.' ' I hate trouble,' said Eve frankly, ' and responsibility is like a burr in one's clothes— detestable. There ! you are laughing at me, Mr. Jasper.' * I am not laughing, I am sighing.' ' Oh, you are always sad.' * I do not like to hear you talk in tliis manner. You cannot expect to have your sister at your elbow throughout life, to fan off all the ^'ies that tease you.' ' If I have not Lab, I shall have someone else.' * jNIiss Barbara might marry— and then ' * Barbara marry ! ' exclaimed Eve, and clapped her hands. * The idea is too absurd. Who would marry her ? She is a dear, darling girl, but ' ' But what, missie ? ' * I dare say I shall marry.' ' Miss Eve ! listen to mc. It is most likely that you will be married some day, but what then ? You will have a thousand more cares on your shoulders than you have now, duties you will be forced to bear, troubles which will encompass you on all sides.' ' Do you Iviiow,' said Eve, with a twinkling face, and a sly look in her eyes, ' do you know, Mr. Jasper, I don't think I shall marry for ever so long. But I have a glorious scheme in my head. As my money is gone, if anything should happen to us, I should dearly like to go on the stage. That would be simply splendid ! ' 'The young crows,' said Jasper gra-Jy, 'live on the dew of heaven, and then they are covered with a soft shining I DISCO VERIES 123 you the down. After a while the old biru ; bring them carrion, and •when they have tasted flesli, tliey no longer have any liking for dew. Then the black featlun's sprout, then only.' lie raised his dark eyes to those of Eve, and said in a deep, vibrating voice, ' I would have this sweet llcdgling sit still in her beautiful !Morwell nest, tmd drink only tlio sparkling drops that fall into her mouth from tlie linger of God. I cannot bear to think of her growing black feathers, and hopping about — a carrion crow.' Eve fidgeted on her seat. She had thrust her pretty feet before her, clad in white stockings and blue leather slippers, one on the other ; she crossed and rccrossed them impatiently. * I do not like you to talk to me like this. I am tired of living in the wilds where one sees nobody, and where I can never go to theatre or concert or ball. I sliould — oh, I should like to live u\ a town.' ' You arc a child. Miss Eve, and think and talk like a child. But the time is coming when you nnist put away childish things, and face life seriously.' 'It is not wicked to want to go to a town. There is nc harm in dreaming that I am an actress. Oh ! ' she ex- claimed, held up her hands, and laughed, 'that would be too delightful ! ' * What has put this mad fancy into your head ? ' * Two or three things. I will conlide in you, dear Mr. Jasper, if you can spare the time to listen. This morning as I had nothing to do, and no one to talk to, I thought I would search the garrets here. I have never been over them, and they are extensive. Barbara has always dis- suaded me from going up there because they arc so dusty and hung with cobwebs. There is such a lot of rubbish heaped up and packed away in the attics. I don't believe that Barbara knows what is there. I don't fancy papa does. Well ! I went up to-day and found treasures.' ' Pray, what treasures ? ' ' Barbara is away, and there is no one to scold. I »! i I 124 I'A'E i\ I If- Tiicrc aro boxes there, and old chairs, all kinds of things, some aro so licavy I could hardly move them. I coidd not get them hack into their places again, if I were to try.' ' So you throw the entire garret into disorder? ' 'Pretty well, hut I will send up one of the men or maids to tidy it before r>arbara conies home. Behind an old broken winnowing machine- -fancy a "winnowing machine up there ! — and under a pile of old pans and bottomless crocks is a chest, to which I got with infinite trouble, and not till I was very hot and dirty. I found it was locked, but the rust had eaten through the hinges, or the nails fastening them ; and after working the lid about awhile I was able to lift it. What do you suppose I found inside ? ' 'I cannot guess.' * No, I am sure you cannot. Wait —go on with your gardening. I will bring you one of my treasures.' She darted into the house, and after a few minutes, Jasper heard a tinkling as of brass. Then Eve danced out to him, laughing and shaking a tambourine. * I suppose it belonged to you or Miss Jordan when you were children, and was stowed away under the mistaken impression that you had outgrown toys.' ' No, Mr. Jasper, it never belonged to either Barbara or me. I never had one. Barbara gave me everything of her own I wanted. I could not have forgotten this. I would have played with it till I had broken the parchment, and shaken out all the little bells.' * Give it to me. I will tighten the parchment, and then you can drum on it with your fingers.' He took the instrument from her, and strained the cover. ' Do you know, Miss Eve, how to use a tambourine ? ' ' No. I shake it, and then all the little bells tingle.' * Yes, but you also tap the drum. You want music as an accompaniment, and to that you dance with this toy.' * How do you mean ? ' * I will show you how I have seen it played by Italian I DISCOVERIES and gipsy girls.' He took tlio tambourine, and singing w lively dance air, struck the drum and clinked the brasses. lie danced before Eve gravely, with graceful movements. ' That is it ! ' cried Kve, with eyes that Hashed uith delight, and with feet that itched to dance. 'Oh, givi; it mo back. I understand thoroughly now, thank you, tliank you so heartily, dear Mr. Jasper. And now — I havo not done. Come up into the garret when I call.' ' What for '? To help you to make more runnnage, and fmd more toys ? ' ' No ! 1 want you to push the winnowing machine back, and to make order in the litter I have created.' Jasper nodded good-humouredly. Then Kve, rattling her tandjourine over her head, ran in ; and Jasper resumed his work at the ilower-beds. ]^)arbara's heliotrope, from which she so often wore a frag- rant flower, had not been planted many weeks. It was straggling, and needed pinning down. Her seedling asters had not been pricked out in a bed, and they were crowding each other in their box. He took them out and divided their ii terlaced roots. * Mr. Jasper I ' A little face was peeping out of the small window in the gable that lighted the attic. Ho looked up, waved his hand, and laid down the young asters with a sigh, bui covered their roots with earth before leav- ing them. Then he washed his hands at the Abbot's Well, and slowly ascended the stair to the attic. It was a newel stone flight, very narrow, in the thickness of the wall. When he reached the top he threw up a trap in tho floor, and pushed his head through. Then, indeed, he was surprised. The inconsiderate Eve had taken some candle ends and stuck them on the binding beam of the roof, and lighted them. They cast a yellow radiance through the vast space, without illumining its recesses. All was indistinct save within the radius of a few feet around the candles. In the far-ofl' blackness n ■ ■ il !! \ '\\' i arbara ! ' They stood still looking at each other in the twilight. One of her white hands was gloveless. ' What has brought you here ? ' asked Barbara, stoop- ing and picking up her whip with one hand, and gathering her habit with the other. * I heard that you had lost something. * Yes ; I was thoughtless. I. was warm, and I hastily whisked ofl" my glove t)iat I might pass my hand over my brow, and I felt as I plucked the glove away that my aunt's ring came off. It was not a good fit. I was so foolish, so uimerved, that I let drop the glove — and now can find neitho'. The ring, I suspect, is in the glove, but I cannot find that. So I sent on Johnny Ostler for the lantern. I bupposed he would return with it.' ' I took the lioerty of coming myself. He is a boy and tired with his long journey ; besides, the horses have to be attended to. I hope you are not displeased.' ' On the contrary,' she replied, in her frank, kindly tone, ' I am glad to see you. When one has been from home a long distance, it is pleasant to meet a messenger from home to say how all are.' * And it is pleasant for the messenger to bring goo'J BARBARAS RIXG i-<, tidings. Mr. Jordan is well ; j\Iiss Eve liappy as a butttr- lly in summer over a clover field.' If it had not been dusk, and Barbara had not turned her head aside, Jasper would have seen a change in her face. She suddenly bowed herself and recommenced her search. ' I am very, very sorry,' she said, in a low tone, *I am not able to bo a pleasant messenger to you. I am ' she half raised herself, her voice was full of sympathy. ' I am more sorry than I can say.' He made no reply ; he had not, perhaps, expected much. He threw the light of the lantern along the ground, and ])cgan to search for the glove. * You are carrying something,' he said ; * let me relieve you. Miss Jordan.' * It is — your violin.' ' Miss Barbara ! how kind, how good ! You have carried it all the way ? ' ' Not at all. Johnny Ostler had it most part. Then Mr. Coyshc carried it. The boy could not take it at the same time that ho led my horse ; you understand that ? ' Iler voice became cold, her pride was touched ; she did not choose that he should know the truth. ' But you thought of bringing it.' ' Not at all. Your father insisted on its being taken from his house. The boy has the rest of your things, as many as could be carried.' Nothing further was said. They searched together for the glove. They were forced to search closely together be- cause the lantern cast but a poor light round. Where the glare did fall, there the tiny white clover leaves, fine moor grass, small delicately-shaped llowcrs of the milkwort, wliite and blue, seemed a newly- 'discovered little world of loveliness. But Barbara had other matters to consider, .'ind scarcely noticed the beauty. Siie was not susceptible :is Eve to the beautiful and picturesque. She was looking for her glove, but her thouglits were not \vliolly concerned with the glove and ring. K Iltlll '■ ;:,i 130 EVE * Mr. Jasper, I saw your father.' Slic spoke in a lev; voice, their heads were not far asunder. * I told him where you were.' * Miss Barbara, did he say anything to you about me ? Did he say anything about the — the loss of the money ? ' ' He refused to hear about you. IIo would hardly listen to a word I said.' * Did ho tell you who took the money?' 'No.' She paused. ' AVhy should he? I knew — :t was you ' Jasper Kiglied. 'I can see,' pursued Barbara, 'that you were hard tried. I know that you had no happy heme, that you h;dl no mother, and that 3'our father may have been harsh and exacting, but — but — ' her voice shook. ' Exeiise me, I am tired, and anxious about my ring. It is a sapphire sur- rounded with diamonds. I cannot speak much. I ought not to have put the ring on my finger till the hoop luvi been reduced. It was a very pretty ring.' Then the search was continued in silence, without result. ' Excuse me,' she said, after a while, * I may seem en- grossed in my loss and regardless of your disappointment. I expected that your father would have been eager to for- give you. The father of the prodigal in the Gospel ran to meet his repentant son. I am sure — I am sure you are re- pentant.' ' I will do all in I'ny power to redress the wrong that has been done,' said Jasper calmly. ' I entreated Mr. Babb to be generous, to relax his severity, and to send you his blessing. lUit I could not win a word of kindness for you, ]\Ir. Jasper, not a word of hopc^ and love ! ' • Oh, IMiss Jordan, how good and kind you are ! ' * Mr. Jasper,' she said in a soft tremulous voice, * I would take the journey readily over again. I would ride back at once, and alone over the moor, if I thought that hout llARBARyVS RIXG lU would Aviii the word foi- you. I Ijilicvc, I trust, you arc ro- pontant, and I would do all in my power to strengthen your good resolution, and save your soul.' Then she touched a .c^orso bush and made her hand smart with the prickles. She put the ungloved hand within the radius of the light, and tried to see and remove the spines. ' Never mind,' she said, forcing a laugh. ' The ring, not the prickles, is of importance now. If I do not find it to-niglit, I shall send out all the men to-morrow, and promise a reward to quicken their interest and sharpen their eyes.' She put her fingers where most wounded to her lips. Tlien, thinking that she had said too much, sliown too great a willingness to help Jasper, she exclaimed, * Our holy reli- gion requires us to do our utmost for the penitent. There is joy in heaven over one sinner that is contrite.' ' I have found your glove,' exckiimcd Jasper joyously, lie rose and held up a dog-skin riding-glove with gauntlet. ' Feel inside if the ring be there,' said Barbara. ' I cannot do so myself, one hand is engaged with my whip and skirt.' *I ^an feel it — the hoop — through the leather.' 'I"m so glad, so mucli obliged to you, Mr. Jasper.' S^-e ''^ a cut her white hand witli the ring-finger extended. 'Pleasu p;it it in place, and I will close my list till I reach home.' She made the request without thought, considering only that she had her whip and gathered habit in lur right, gloved hand. Jasper opened the lantern and raised it. The diamonds sparkled. * Yes, that is my ring,' said I^arbara. Ho set the lantern on a stone, a slab of white felspar that lay on the grass. Then he lightly held her hand with his left, and with the right placed the ring on her finger. But the moment it was in place and his fingers held it K 2 1 f > ' -i i i 'I I ! iRi'i i| ! 13: Ll'E there, a sliock of terror and shame went to Barbara's licart. What inconsiderateness had she been si^uilty of! The reflection of the hght from tlic white ftlspar was in their faces. In a moment, unable to ccntiol herself, ]>arbara burst into tears. Jasper stooped and kissed the linijrers ho held. She started back, s uitchcd Jier hand from him, clenched her fist, and struck her breast with it. ' How dare you I You — you — the escaped convict ! Clo on ; I will follow. You have insulted me.' He obeyed. ]>ut as he walked back to ]\Iorwell ahead of her, he was not cast down. ]%ve, in the garret, had that day opened a coffer and made a discovery, lie, too, on the down, had wrenched open for one moment a fast- closed heart, had looked in, and made a discovery. "When Barbara reached her home she rushed to her room, where she threw herself on her bed, and beat and beat again, with her fists, her head and breast, and said, 'I hate — I hate and despise myself! I hate — oh, howl hate myself I ' CHAPTER XX. TEKPLKXITY. B.vnBArwV was roused early next morning by Eve ; Eve had overslept herself when she ought to be up ; she woke and rose early wdien another hour of rest would have been a boon to poor Barbara. The sisters occupied adjoining rooms that communicated, and the door was always open between them. "When I^ve was awake she would not suffer her sister to sleep on. She stooped over her and kissed her closed eyes till she woke. ]"iVe had thrown open the ■window, and the sweet fresh air blew in. The young girl was not more than half dressed. She stood by Barbara's bed with her lovely hair dishevelled about her head, form- PERPLEXITY "^IZ ing a halo of red-gold glory to licr fuco. Tluit face Avas lovely with its delicate roses of health and happiness, and the blue eyes twinkling in it full of life and fun. Her neck was exposed. She folded her slender arms round Bar- bara's head and shook it, and kissed again, till the tired, sleep-stupefied girl awoke. ' I cannot sleep this lovely morning,' said Eve ; tlion, with true feminina non-scquilur; * So you must get up, Barbie.' * Ob, Eve, is it time ? ' Barbara sat up in bed instantly wide awake. Iler sister seated herself on the side of tho bed and laid her hand in her lap. ' Eve ! ' exclaimed Barbara suddenly, •' what have you there — on your finger .? Who gave you that ? ' * It is a ring, Bab. Is it not beautiful, a forget-me-not of turquoise set in a circlet of gold "? " ' Who gave it you, Eve ? ' ' A pixy gift ! ' laughed the girl carelessly. ' This will not do. You must answer mc. \yhere did you get it ? ' * I found it. Barbie.' ' Found it — where ? ' ' Where arc forget-me-nots usually found ? ' Then -hastily, before her sister could speak, ' l>ut what a lovely ring you have got on your pincushion, Bab ! Mine cannot compare with it. Is that the ring I heard ihe maids say you lost ? ' ' Yes, dear.' ' How did you recover it ? Who found it for you ? ' * Jasper.' Eve turned her ring on her finger. * My darling,' said Barbara, ' you have not been candid with me about that ring. Did Dr. Coyslio give it to you ? ' 'Dr. Coyshe ! Oh, Barbara, that ever you should think of me as aspiring to bo j\Irs. Squash ! ' ' Wlien did you get the ring ? ' I 'M H II iiil m 134 irv/-: ' Yesterday. * Who gave it to you ? You must toll mc* * I liavo already told you — I found it by the ^Y00d, as truly as you found yours on the down.' Suddenly ]3arhara started, and her heart heat fast. ' ]']vc ! — where is the ribbon and your mother's ring ? Y'ou used to have that ring ahvpys in your bosom. Where is it ? Have you parted with that ? ' Eve's colour rose, flushing face and throat and bosom. ' Oh, darling ! ' exclaimed Barbara, 'answer mo truly. To whom have you given that ring ? ' ' I have not given it ; I have lost it. You must not be angry with me, ]5ab. You lost yours.' Eve's eyes sank as slie spoke, and her voice faltered. The elder sister did not speak for a moment ; she looked hard at ]"^ve, who stood up and remained before her in a jiretty penitential attitude, but unable to meet her eye. Barbara considered. Whom could her sister have met ? There was no one, absolutely no one she could think of, if Mv. Coyshe were set aside, but Jasper. Now Barbara had disapproved of the way in which Eve ran after Jasper be- fore she departed for Ashburton. She had remonstrated, but she knew that her remonstrances carried small weiglit. Eve was a natural coquette. She loved to be praised, admired, made much of. The life at Morwell was dull, and Eve sought society of any sort where she could chatter and attract admiration and provoke a compliment. Eve liad not made.! any secret of her liking for Jasper, but Bar. bara had not thought there was anything serious in the liking. It was a child's fancy. r)Ut then, she considered, would any man's heart be able to withstand the pretty wiles of Eve ? Was it possible for Jasper to be daily associated with this fairy creature and not love her? ' 'Eve,' s id Barbara gravely, 'it is of no use trying concealment with me. I know who gave you the ring. I know more than you suppose.' * Jasper has been telhng tales,' exclaimed Eve. I PERPLEXirY II 03 Barbara ■\viiicctl but did not speak. EvG supposed that Jasper had informed her sister about the meeting with Vv'att on tho Raven Rock. ' Are you going to sleep again ? ' asked Eve, as Barbara liad cast liersclf back on her pillow with tho faco in it. The elder sister shook her head and made a sign with her hand to bo left alone. ^Yhen Baibara was nearly dressed, Eve stole on tiptoe out of her own room into that of her sister. She was uneasy at Barbara's silence ; she thought her sister was hurt and offended witli her. So she stepped behind her, l)ut her arms round her waist, as Barbara stood before tho mirror, and her head over her sister's shoulder, partly that she might kiss her cheek, partly also that she might seo her own face in the glass and contrast it with that of Bar- bara. ' You are not cross with me ? ' she said coaxingly. ' No, Eve, no one can be cross with you.' She turned and kissed her passionately. ' Darling ! you must give back the little ring and recover that of your mother.' * It is impossible,' answered Eve. ' Then I must do what I can for you,' said Barbara. Barbara v\'as resolved what to do. She would speak to her father, if necessary ; but before that she must have a word on the matter with Jasper. It was impossible to tolerate an attachment and secret engagement between him and her sister. She sought an opportunity of speaking privately to the young man, and easily found one. But when they were together alone, she discovered that it was not easy to approach the topic that was uppermost in her mind. ' I was very tired last night, r^Ir. Jasper,' she said, * over-tired, and I am hardly myself this morning. Tho loss of my aunt, tho funeral, the dividing of her poor little treasures, and then the lengthy ride, upset mo. It was very ridiculous of mo last night to cry, but a girl takes refuge in tears when overspent, it relieves and even refreshes her.' Then she hesitated and looked dowi]. But Barbara had Ir: f ! II l\' ill!! >B|i| li m I Mi 136 EVE a strong will, and ^vllon she had made up licr mind to do ■what she believed to be right, alloAved no weakness to iu- Icrfero with the execution. * And now I want to speak about something else. I must beg you will not encourage Kve. Hhe is a child, thoughtless and foolish.' ' Yes ; she should be kept more strictly guarded. I do not encourage her. I regret her giddiness, and give her good advice, which she casts to the winds. Excuse my saying it, but you and Mr. Jordan are spoiling the child.' ' My father and I spoil Eve ! That is not possible.' * You think so ; I do not. Tlie event will prove which is right, Miss Jordan.' Barbara was annoyed. What right had Jasper to dic- tate how Eve was to be treated ? * That ring,' began Barbara, and halted. * It is not lost again, surely ! ' said Jasper. Barbara frowned. * I am not alluding to my ring which you found along with my glove, but to that which you gave to Eve.' ' I gave her no ring ; I do not understand you.' ' It is a pretty little thing, and a toy. Of course you only gave it her as such, but it was unwise.' ' I repeat, I gave her no ring, Miss Jordan.' ' She says that she found it, but it is most improbable.' Jasper laughed, not cheerfully ; there was always a sadness in his laughter. ' Y^'ou have made a great mistake, Miss Jordan. It is true that your sister found the ring. That is, I conclude she did, as yesterday she found a chest in the garret full of old masquerading rubbish, and a tam- bourine, and I know not what besides.' A load was taken off Barbara's mind. So Eve had not deceived her. ' She showed me a number of her treasures,' said Jasper. ' No doubt whatever that she found the ring along with the other trumpery.' rRRPLEXITY 137 Barbara's face clearccl. Slio drcAV a long breatli. ' Why did not Eve tell me all ? ' she said. ' Lecause,' answered the young man, 'she "was afraid you would bo angry with her for getting the old tawdry stuff out of the box, and she asked mo not to toll you of it. Now I have betrayed her confidence, I must leave to you, Miss Jordan, to make my peace with ]\lis3 Eve.' * She has also lost something that hung round her throat.' * Very likely. She was, for once, hard at work in tlio garret, moving boxes and hani])ers. It is lying somewhoru on the floor. If you wisli it 1 will search for her ornament, and hope my success will be equal to that of last night.' He looked down at her hand. The ring was not on it. She observed his glance and said coldly, ' My ring does not fit me, and I shall reserve it till I am old, or till I fhid some young lady friend to whom I must make a wed- ding present.' Then slie turned away. She walked across the Abbot's Meadow, through which the path led to the rocks, because she knew that Eve had gone in that direc- tion. Before long she encountered her sister returning with a large bunch of foxgloves in her hand. ' Do look, Bab ! ' exclaimed Eve, ' is not this a splendid sceptre ? A wild white foxglove with thirty-seven bells on it.' ' Eve ! ' said Barbara, her honest face alight witli plea- sure ; * my dearest, I was wrong to doubt you. I know now where you found the ring, and I am not in the least cross about it. There, kiss and make peace.' ' I wish the country folk had a prettier name for the foxglove thanyZoj;-a-Joc/j,' said Eve. * My dear,' said Barbara, ' you shall show me the pretty things you have found in the attic' * What— Bab •? ' ' I know all about it. Jasper has proved a traitor.' * What has he told you ? ' 1 138 EVE ' lie lias told mo -wlioro you found tlio turquoise rii o» to ''C til ith ball dr( iici" ^vllll ji nuiuuei' oi laiicy uaii dresses. ]wo ■svas silont. A stru,%do •\vciit on in her innocent lioiirt. Blio lijited falsehood. It pained lirr to deceive her sister, -who had sucli perfect faith in her. Slie felt inclined to tell her all, yet she dared not do so. In her heart she lonj^ed to hear more of INIartin. Slio rcmomhered liis handsome face, his flatterinijj and tender words, the romance cf that iiij^dit. No! she could not tell ] Barbara. 'Wo will go together into the garret,' said Barljara, ' and search for your mother's ring. It will easily be found by the blue ribbon to which it is attached.' Then Kvo laughed, held her sister at arms' length, thrusting the great bunch of purple and white foxgloves against her shoulder, so tliat their tall heads nodded by her cheek and ear. ' No, ]>ab, sweet, I did not find the ring in the chest with the gay dresses. I did not lose the ring of my mother's in the loft. I tell you the truth, but I tell you no more.' ' Oh, Eve ! ' Barbara's colour faded. ' Who was it'? I implore you, if you love me, tell me.' * I love you dearly, but no.' She curtsied. ' Find out if you can.' Then she tripped away, waving her foxgloves. CIIArTER XXI. THE SCYTllK OF TIMJ:. * My papa ! my darling papa ! ' Eve burst into her father's room. ' I want you mucli to do something for inc. Mr. Jasper is so kind. He has promised to have a game ol' bowls with me this evening on the lawn, and the grass is not mown.' 'Well, dear. .Tct it mov;n,' said ]\rr. Jordan drcamilv. 77//; scvTJii: 01' time V39 * r>ut tlicro is 110 man about, and olarbara looked wonderingly at him through the veil of tears that obscured her sight. What did he mean ? 'He is an old man, papa, but hard as iron, lie has white hair, but none of the reverence which clings to age attaches to him.' THE SCYTHE OF TIME u: ' "Wliito hair ! ' Mr. Jonliin turned tlio scvtlio, and with the point aimed at, missed, aimed at again, and cut down a wliitc-scedcd dandelion in the grass. ' That is white, hut tho neck is sott, even if the head ho hard,' said ]\[r. Jordan, pointing to the dandohon. ' I wisli that were ]ii-; head, and I liad cut through his neck. ]hit then ' he f emed to fall into ahewildered state — ' the hlood should run red — run, run, drihljlc over the edge, red. ■ This is niilky, hut acrid.' lie recovered himself. 'I have only cut down a head of drdidelion.' He revci'sed tlu^ scythe again, and stood hauing his arm on the hack of the hladc, and staying the handle against his knee. ' My dear father, had you not hetter put the scythe away ? ' ' Why should I do that ? I have done no harm with it. Xo one can set on mo for what I have cut with it -only a white old head of dandelion with a soft neck. Think— if it had hcen ]''.zekiel Bahh's head sticking out of the grass, with the v/hite hair ahout it, and tho sloe-hlack wicked eves, and with one cut of the scvtlie — swish, it hadtumhled over, with tlie stalk upwards, hleoding, hleeding, and the eyes were in the grass, and winking hecause tho daisies teased them and nuido them water.' ]jarhara was distressed. She must change the current of his thoughts. To do this she caught at tho first thing that came into her head. ' Papa ! I will tell you what ^Ir. Coysho was talking to me ahovit. It is quite right, as you say, that you should know all ; it is proper that nothing should be kept from you.' ' It is hardly hig enough,' said ^h. Jordan. * What, papa?' 'The dandelion. I can't feel towards it as if it were :,Ir. Bahh's head.' ' Papa,' said Barbara, speaking rapidly, and eager to divert his mind into another channel, 'papa dear, do you ^now that the doctor is much attached to our pet ? * 1 •' !■ i ■' B^ »■ ';ll 144 J^VB ' It could not bo otlicnvisc. Everyone loves Eve ; if tliey do not, tlicy deserve to die.' * Papa ! He told me as much as that. He admires her greatly, and would dearly like to propose for her, but, though I do not suppose he is bashful, he is not quite sure that she cares for him.' * Eve shall have ^vhom she will. If she does not lilce Coyshc, she shall have anyone else.' Tlien he hinted that, though he had no doubt ho would make himself a great name in his profession, and in time be very wealthy, that yet he could not afford as he is now circumstanced to marry a wife without means. * There ! there ! ' exclaimed Mv. Jordan, becoming again excited. * See how the wrong done by Ezekiel Babb is beginning to work. There is a future, a fine future offering for my child, but she cannot accept it. The gate is open, but she may not pass through, because she has not the toll-money in her hand.' * Are you sure, papa, that Mr. Coyshe would make Eve happy ? ' ' I am sure of it. AVhat is this place for her ? She should be in the world, be seen and received, and shine. Here she is like one hidden in a nook. She must be brought out, she must be admired by all.' ' I do not think Eve cares for him.' But her father did not hear her ; ho went on, and as lie spoke his eyes flashed, and spots of dark red colour llared on his cheek-bones. ' There is no chance for poor Yjwe ! The money is gone past recovery. Her future is for ever blighted. I call on heaven to redress the wrong. I went the other day to Plymouth to hear ]\Iass, and I had but one prayer on my lips. Avenge me on my enemy ! When the choir sang " Gloria in Excclsis, Deo,'' I heard my heart sing a bass, '* On earth a curse on the man of ill- will." When they sang the Hosanna ! I muttered. Cursed is he that cometh to defraud the motherless ! I could not bear the Benedictus. My heart roared out '* Inq^rccatus I THE SCYTHE OE TIME 145 ImpYCcaiu& sit!'' I can pray nothing' else. All mv prayers turn sour in my throat, and I tasto tlicni like gall on my tongue.' * papa ! this is horrihlo 1 ' Now he rested hoth liis elbows on the back of the blade and raised his hands, trembling with passion, as if in prayer. His long thin hair, instead of hanging lank about his head, seemed to bristle with <'lectric excitement, his cheeks and lips quivered. ])arbara had never seen him so greatly moved as now, and she did not know what to do to pacify him. She feared lest any intervention nn'ghi exas- perate him further. 'I pray,' he began, in a low, vibrating' monotone, *I prny to tlio God of justice, Avho protcctcth the orplian and the oppressed, that He may cause the man that siimed to suffer; that He will whet his gleaming sword, and smite and not spare— smite and not spare the guilty.' His voice rose in ton') and hicrcased in volume, llarbara looked round, in hopes of seeing Eve, trusting that the sight of her might soothe her father, and yet afraid of her sister seeing him in this condition. 'There was a time, seventeen years ago,' continued Mr. Jordan, not noticing Barbara, looking before him as if he saw something far beyond the boundary walls of the house, ' there was a time when he lifted up his hand and voice to curse my child. I saw the black cross, and tlio shadov/ of Eve against it, and he with his cruel black hands held her there, nailed her with his black fingers to the black cross. And now I lift my soul and my hands to (iod against him. I cry to Heaven to avenge the innocent. Jvaise Thy arm and Thy glittering blade, Lord, and smite ! ' Suddenly the scythe slipped from under his elbows. He uttered a sharp cry, staggered back and fell. As he lay on the turf, Barbara saw a dark red stain ooze from his right side, and spread as ink on blotting- paper. The point of the scythe had entered liis side. Ho hi ■ ► ' 146 I^FE , ■ i " l! -I 'I i! i 111 put his hand to tho ^vou^(l, and then loolied at hi.s pahn. His face turned livid. At that moment, just as Baihara spran.c? to her father, liaviii.c,' recovered from the momen- tary paralysis of terror, J-^ve hounded from the hall-door, lioldini^ a Ijall over her head in Ijothlier hands, and shout- ing joyously, * I have the Jack ! I have the Jack I ' CIIArTKR XXII. THE ]:i:i) stkiiak. Bahcaha was not a girl to allow precious moments to be lost ; instead of givinp: ^v;)y to emotion and exclamations, she knelt and tore off her father's waistcoat, ri]>)ied his shirt, and found a gasli under tho rib ; tearing off her kerchief she ran, sopped it in cold water, and held it tightly to tho v.'ouud. ' Run, Eve, run, sunnnon help ! ' she cried. But l%ve was powerless to bo of assistance ; she had turned white to the lips, had staggered hack to the door, and sent the Jack rolling over the turf to her father's fc(.;t. ' I am faint,' gas[)('d poor J'^ve. ' I cannot see blood.' ' You must,' exclaimed Barbara, ' command yourself. Ring the alarm bell : Jasper — someone— will hear,' ' Tho power is gone from my arms,' sobbed Eve, shivering. 'Tall one of llie inaids. Bid her ring,' oi'dered the elder. Eve, holding the sides of the door to prevent herself from falling, deadly white, "with knees that yielded under her, staggered into the house. Pr(>sently the old bell hmig in a pent-hoitse over the roof of the chapel began to give tongue. Barbara, kneeling behind her father, raised his head on her bosom, and held her kerchief to his side. Tho lirst token of retiu'ning consciousness was given by his THE REAK HI Then liancls, ^v]licll cIp jlu'd at somo grass lie had cut. lio opened liis eyes. ' Why is the bell tolling ? ' * Dear papa ! it is calling for help, i'ou must be moved. You arc badly hurt.' ' I feci it. In my side. How ^vas it ? I do not re- member. Ah ! the scythe. Has the blade cut deep ? ' ' I cannot tell, papa, till the doctor comes. Are you easier now ? ' ' You did it. Interfering ^Yith me when I vv-as mowing. Teasing me. You will not leave mo alone. You are always watching me. Y'ou wanted to take the scythe from mo. If you had left me alone this would not have happened.' ' Never mind, darling papa, how it happened. Now we must do our best to cure you.' ' Am I badly hurt ? What are these women coming crowding round me for ? I do not want the maids hero. Drive them back, Barbara.' ]^>arbara made a sign to the cook and house and kitchen maids to stand back. ' You must be moved to your room, papa.' * Am I d}ing, ] Barbara ? ' * I hope and trust not, dear.' ' I cannot die without speaking ; but I will not speak till I am on the point of death.' * Do not speak, father, at all now.' He obeyed and remained quiet, with his eyes looking up at the sky. Thus ho lay till Jasper arrived breathless. Ho had heard the bell, and had run, suspecting somo disaster. ' Let mo carry him, with one of the maids,' said Jasper, ' No,' answered Darbara. ' You shall take his shoulders, I his feet. Wo will carry him on a mattress. Cook and Jane have brought one. Help me to raise him on to it,' Jasper was the man she wanted. He did not lose his T *> 148 EVE m liead. IIo (lid not ask questions, liow the accident had liappened ; he did not ^vaste words in useless lamentation. He sent a maid at once to the stable to saddle the horse. A girl, in the country, can saddle and bridle as well as a boy. ' I am off for the doctor,' he said shortly, as soon as lie had seen ]\Ir. Jordan removed to the same downstairs room in which he had so recently lain himself. * Send for the lawyer,' said Mr. Jordan, who had lain with his eyes shut. * The lawyer, papa ! ' * I must make my will. I might die, and then what would become of Eve ? ' * Ride on to Tavistock after you have summoned ]Mr. Coyshe,' said Barbara. "When Jasper was gone, Eve, who had been fluttering about the door, came in, and threw herself sobbing on her knees by her father's bed. He put out his hand, stroked her brow, and called her tender names. She was in great distress, reproaching herself for having asked him to mow the grass for her ; she charged herself with having wounded him. * No — no. Eve ! ' said her father. ' It was not your fault. Barbara would not let me alone. She interfered, and I lost my balance.' * I am so glad it was not I,' sobbed Eve. * Let me look at you. Stand up,' he said. She rose, but averted her face somewhat, so as not to see the blood on the sheet. He had been caressing her. Now, as he looked at her, he saw a red streak across her forehead. * My child ! what is that ? You are hurt ! Barbara, help ! She is bleeding.' Barbara looked. * It is nothing,' she said ; ' your hand, papa, has left some of its stains on her brow. Come with me, Eve, and I will wash it clean.' The colour died completely out of Eve's face, and she HIE RED STREAK 149 seemed again about to faint. Barbara hastily bathed a napkin in fresh water, and removed all traces of blood from lior forehead, and tlien kissed it. ' Is it gone ? ' whispered Kve. ' Entirely.' ' I feel it still. I cannot remain here.' Then the young girl crept ort of the room, hardly able to sustain herself on her feet. When Barbara was alone with her father, she said to him, in her quiet, composed tones, ' Papa, though I do not in the least think this wound will prove fatal, I am glad you have sent for Lawyer Knighton, because you ought to make your will, and provide for Eve. I made up my mind to speak to you when I was on my way home from Ashburton.' ' Well, what have you to say ? ' ' Papa ! I've been thinking that as the money laid by for Eve is gone for ever, and as my aunt has left me a little more than sixteen hundred pounds, you ought to give Morwell to Eve— that is, for the rest of your term of it, some sixty-three years, I think. If you like to make a little charge on it for me, do so, but do not let it be much. I shall not require much to make me happy. I shall ne\er marry. If I had a good deal of money it is possible some man would be base enough to want to marry me for it ; but if I have only a little, no one will think of asking me. There is no one whom I care for whom I would dream ot taking — under no circumstances — nothing would move me to it — nothing. And as an old maid, what could I do with this property ? Eve must marry. Indeed, she can have almost anyone she likes. I do not think she cares for the doctor, but there must be some young squire about hero who would suit her.' ' Yes, Barbara, you are right.' * I am glad you think so,' she said, smiled, and coloured, pleased with his commendation, so rarely won. ' No one can see Eve without loving her. I have my little I ISO EVl'. \% scheme. Captain Cloberry i;^ coniin.i,' home from the army this cnsuiiii,' autmmi, and if lie \9, as nice as his sistors say — then something may come of it. ]hit I do not hiiow whether Eve cares or does not care for Mr. Coyshe. llu has not spoken to her yet. I tliiuk, papa, it ^vould he v.ell to let him and everyone know that ]\Ior\vell is not to conio to me, but is to go to I've. Then everyone will know what to expect, ' it shall he so. If Mr. Knii^-hton comes, I will get tho doctor to be in the room when I make my will, and Jasper Babb also.' lie considered for a while, and tlicn said, ' In spite of all — there is good in yon, Barbara. I forgive you my wound. There — you may kiss me.' As Barbara wished, and ]\[r, Jordan intended, so was the will executed. Mr. Knighton, the solicitor, arrived at the same time as the surgeon ; ho waited till Mr. Coyshe had bandaged up the wound, and then ho entered the sick man's room, summoned by I'arbara. ' My second daughter,' said j\lr. Jordan, ' is, in the eyo of the law, illegitimate. My elder daughter has urged me to do what I likewise feel to bo right— to kavo my title to Morwell estate to Eve.' * What is her surname — I mean her mother's name '? ' ' That you need not know. I leave ]\Iorwell to my daughter Eve, commonly called Eve Jordan. That is Barbara's wish.' ' I urged it on my father,' said Barbara. Jasper, who had been called in, looked into her face with an expression of admiration. {She resented it, frowned, and averted her head. When the will had been properly executed, the doctor left the room with Jasper, lie had already given his in- structions to Barbara how i\Ir. Jordan was to bo treated. Outside the door he found Eve fluttering, nervous, alarmed, entreating to be reassured as to her father's condition. 'Dear Barbie disturbed him whilst he was mowing,' she said, * and he let the scythe slip, and so got hurt.' She Tin: RED STREAK 151 ^^;ls readily consoled when assured that the old gentlonuin lay in no immediate danger. lie must, however, bo kept quiet, and not allowed to leave his Led for some time. Then Eve hounded away, light as a roe. The reaction set in at once, bhe was like a cork in water, that can only ho kept depressed hy force; remove the pressure and the cork leaps to the surface again. Such was her iiature. She could not help it. ' Mr. Jasper,' said the surgeon, ' I have n(;ver gone over this property. If you have a spare hour and would do mo a favour, I should like to look ahout me. The quality of the land is good ? ' ' Excellent.' ' Is there anywhere a map of the property that I could run my eye over ? ' ' In the stady.' ' What about the shooting, now ? ' ' It is not preserved. If it were it would bo good, tho cover is so line.' ' And there seems to be a good deal ol' timber.' After about an hour ]\Ir. Covsho rode awav. ' Some men are Cyclopsos, as far as their own interests are con- cerned,' said he to Inmsolf ; * they carry but a single eye. I invariably use two.' In the evening, when Barbara came to her sister's room to tell her that she intended to sit up during tlie night with her father, she said : ' Mr. Jasper :s very kind. He insists on taking half the watch, he will lolievo me at two o'clock. What is the matter with you. Eve ? ' ' I can see nothing, Barbie, but it is there still.' ' Wiiat is ? ' ' That lod mark. I have been rubbing, and washing, and it burns like fire.' ' I can sec, mv dear Eve, that where vou have rubbed your pretty white delicate skin, you have made it red. I hav( mad it in. I feel it. I cannot get the feel L-ubbed away. It stains me. It hurts me. It burns me wmm Ull' il* « I », ■ ( II 152 £VE CIIAriER XXIII. A liLNCII OF K()Si:S. ^hi. Jokdan's ■wound was not cliinf,'erous, but the strictest rest was enjoined. ] To must keep liis ))ed for some days. Aswlien .lasper was ill, so now that her father was an invalid, the principal care devolved on ]>arl)ara. No reliance could be ))lac('u on Kve, who was williiif? enouL,di, but too thou'-^htlcss and foi'Lj^ellul to be trusted. When liarbara returned from Ashburton she found her store closet in uttci' confiis.ion : bajjjs of groceries opened and not tied up ii,!-';iiin, bottles of siiuces upset and broken, coffee berries and rice spilled over the floor, lemons with the sugar, become mouldy, and dissolving tLo sugar. The linen cupboard was in a similar disorder : sheets pulled out and thrust back unfolded in a crumpled heap, pillow- cases torn up for dusters, blankets turned out and left in a damp place, where the moth had got to them. Now, rather than give the keys to Eve, Barbara retained them, and was kept all day engaged without a moment's cessa- tion. She was not able to sit much with her father, but Eve could do that, and her presence soothed the sick man. Eve, however, would not remain long in the roora with her father. She was restless, her spirits flagged, and Mr. Jordan himself insisted on her going out. Then she would run to Jasper Dabb, if he were near. She had taken a great fancy to him. He was kind to her ; he treated her as a child, and accommodated himself to her humours, liarbara could not now ba with her. Besides, Barbara had not that craving for colour and light, and melody and poetry, that formed the very core of Eve's soul. The elder sister was severely practical. She liked what was beauti- ful, as a well-educated young lady is required by society to have such a liking, but it was not instinctive in her, A JWNCII OF ROSES 153 it was m no way a passion. Jasper, on tlio othci" hand, rospondcd to tlio a'sthotic lon^'iiif^'S of Y.\(\ Ho could sympathise with her raptures ; Barbara hiu^jjhod at them. It is said that everyone sees his own rainbow, but there aro many who are colour-blind and see no rainbows, only raindrops. "SVlierever l-^vo looked she saw rainbows. Jasper had a stronj^ iibro of poetry in him, and he was able to read the girl's character and understand the mi- ccrtain aspirations of her heart, lie thou/^ht that I5av- bara was mistaken in lauj^hini,: down and showin.^' no interest in lier enthusiasms, and ho f;ou;:jht to j^ive her vague aspirations some direction, and her cravings some satisfaction. EvG appreciated his cfTorts. She saw that ho under- stood her, which Barbara did not ; she and Jasper had a world of ideas in common from whicli her sister was shut out. Eve took groat delight in talking to Jasper, but her chief delight was in listening to him when ho played the violin, or in accompanying him on the piano. Old violin nmsic was routed out of the cupboards, Ircsh was ordered. Jasper introduced her to a great deal of very beauiiful classical music of which she was ignorant, lliihcrto she had been restrained to a few meagre collections : the ' Musical Treasury,' the ' Bacred Harmonist,' and the hkc Now, with her father's consent, she ordered the operas of Mozart, Beethoven's sonatas, Kossini, ]joieldieu, and was guided, a ready pupil, by Jasper into this new and en- chanted world. By this means Jasper gave Evo an interest, which hitherto she had lacked - -a pursuit which she followed with eagerness. Barbara was dissatisfied. She thought Jasper was encouraging Eve in her frivolity, was diverting her from the practical aims of life. Sl.i.o was angry with Jasper, and misinterpreted his motives. The li'i(;ndship subsist- ing between her sister and the young steward was too warm. How far would it go ? How was it to be arrested ? Eve was inexperienced and wilful. Before she knew ■w= 1 54 KVE \s> I 'i \vlit'ro !-;]io was, Jasper 'svould liavo gaiiiocl her younpj heart. Slio was so lieatl strong that JJarhara douhtcd -wlu'tlic'r a word of caution woidd avail auytliing. Ncvcrtlu'lfss, con- vinced that it was her duty to interfere, she did spealc, and, of course, gained nothing hy so doing. ]'»arhara hicked tact. She spoke to Kve phu'nly, hut guardedly. '^V]ly, Bah! wluit arc you tliiuldng of? AVhy should I not he with IMr. Jasper ? ' answered Eve to her sister's expostulation. 'Iliko liini vastly; he talks delightfully, lie knows so much ahout nnisic, he ])lays and sings the tears into my eyc3, and sets my feet tingling to dance. Papa does not objcc*". ^Vhcn wc arc practising 1 leave the parlour door open for pa])a to hear, lie says ho enjoys listening. Oh, Barbie ! I wish you loved music as I do. But as you don't, let mo go my ■'vny with the music, and you go your way with the groceries.' ' My dearest sister,' snid Barbara, 'I do nrl think it looks well to sec you running after Mr. Jasper.' 'Looks well!' repeated I've. 'Who is to sec me? ]\rorwell is quite ou. oT tho world. Bi -'fV.s/ she screwed up her pretty mouth to a pout. ' I don't ' un aft-^v him, he runs after me, of course.' 'My dear, dear I'^ve,' said Barbara earnestly, 'you must not suffer him to do so.' ' Why not ? ' asked Eve frankly. ' You like Poiito and puss to run after you, and the little black calf, and tlu; pony in the paddock. What is the difference ? You cai'o for one sort of animals, and I for another. I detest dogs and cats and bullocks.' ' Ea _, sweetheart ' — poor r);'rbara felt her powerlessness to carry her point, even to make an impression, but in lier conscientiousness believed herself bound to go on- 'your conduct is indiscreet. We must never part with our se'!'- re?pect. That is the guardian angel given to girls by God.' ' Oh, Bab ! ' Eve burst out laughing. ' ^Miat a dear, grave old ]\[other Hubbard you are! I am always doing, and always will do, exactly opposite to what you intend i A JWXCll OF JWSES 1:5 iuul cxppct. I know \\\\y you iiru loclui'lnf,' mo now. 1 \vill toll 1\lv. JiispcT how jt'iiloua you have l)ccomo.' ' For hoavcii's sake ! ' oxclaiiuod Davhara, spriufjfiiig to licr foot sho had been sittiut^' bcsido Kvo- 'do iiothiu;,' of tlio soi't. Do not mention my nniuc to liim. i ;;ui not jealous. ]l is an insult to me to nuiko siudi a Mi,Li:,!j;i'sti()ii. ])o I ever seek his company ".' ])o I not shun it'.' No, J'lve, I am moved only hy un(;asinc'ss for you. You aru thoughtless, and aro playing a dangerous game Avith that man. V»'lu'ii Ik; sees how you seek his society, it Hatters him, and his vanity will lead him to think of you with more warmtli than is well. Undei'stand this, Kve — there is a bar between him and you which should uudvo the man kcop his distance, and he shows a wicked want of consideration when lie draws near you, relying on vour ignorance.' ' ^\'hat aro you hinting at ? ' ' I cannot speak out as I wish, but I assure you of this, l^ve, unless you are more ciireful of your conduct, I shall bo forced to take steps to get Jasper ]jabb dismissed.' live laughed, clapped her hands on her sister's cheek.-'., kissed her lips and said, * You dear old j\Iother Hubbard, you can't do it. Papa would not listen to you if I told him that I wanted Jasper to stay.' Barbara was hurt. This was true, but it was unkind of Eve to say it. The young girl was herself aware that she had spoken unfeelingly, was sorry, and tried to make amends by coaxing her sister. 'I want you to tell me,' said Barbara, very gravely, 'for you have not told me yet, who gave you the ring'?' ' I did not tell you because you said you knew. Xo one carries water to the sea or coals to Newcastle.' 'Be candid with me, Eve.' *Am not I open as the day? ^Vhy should you com- plain?' 'Eve, bo Gerlous. Was it 3[r. Ja^'por who gave you the turquoise ring ?' ii ii il if III f I'll 111 156 EV£. ' Jasper ! ' Eve Leld out her skirts daintily, and danced ittiest, most and made curtsies round her sister, in pr( coquettisli, laughing way. 'You dearest, you best, you ■nost jealous of .sisters ; we will not quarrel over poor good Jasper. I don't n^ind how much you pet tJic black calf. ]fow absurd you are ! You make mc laugh sometimes at your density. There, do not cry. I would tell you all if I dared.' Then warbling a strain, and still holding lier skirls out, she danced as in a miiniet, slowly out of the room, looking back over her shoulder at her distressed sister. That was all Barbara had got by speaking- nothing, absolutely nothing. She knew that Eve would not be one wit more guarded in her conduct for what had been said to lier. Barbara revolved in her mind the threat she had rashly made of driving Jasper away. That would necessitate the betrayal of his secret. Could she bring herself to this"? Hardly. Xo, the utmost she could do was to threaten him tliat, unless he voluntarily departed, she would reveal the secret to ho' father. A day or two after this scene, Barbara was again put to great distress by Eve's conduct. She knew well enougli that she and her sister wei'o invited to the Cloberrys to an afternoon party and dance. l^ve had written and accepted before the accident to Mr. Jordan. ]>arbara had let lier write, because she was herself that day much engaged and could not spare time. The groom had ridden over from Bradstone manor, and was waiting ^br an answer, just whilst Barbara was weighing out sago and tapioca. ^Yb.en Mr. Jordan was hurt, l^rbara had wished to send a boy to Bradstone wdth a letter declining the party, ])at Mr. Coyshe had said that her father was not in danger, had insisted on Eve promising him a couple of dances, and had so strictly combated her desire to withdraw that she had given w ly- In the afteriioon, when the girls were ready to go, they came downstairs to kiss their father, and let him see them A BUNCH OF ROSES 157 clancGd >J,' in their pretty dresses. The little carriage was at the door. Ill the hall they met Jasper Bahh, also dressed for the party. He held in his hands two lovely bouquets, one of yellow tea-scented roses, which he handed to Barbara, the other of Mahnaison, delicate white, with a soft inner blusli, which ho offered to Eve. ^Vhence had he procured them? No doubt he had been for them to a nursery at Tavistock. Eve was in raptures over her ]\Ialmaison; it was a new- rose, quite recently introduced, and she had never seen it before. 8he looked at it, uttered exclamations of delight, smelt at the tiowci'.;, then r;in off to her father that she might show him her treasures. ]'>arbara thanked Jasper somewhat stiffly; she was puzzled. Why was he dressed? 'Are you going to ride, or to drive us?' askcjd Eve, skipping into the hall again. She had put her bunch in lier girdle. She was charmingly dressed, with rose satin ribands in her hair, about her throat, round her waist. Her face was, in colour, itself like a souvenir dc la ^[almaison roso. 'Whom are you addressing? ' asked Barbara seriously. 'I am speaking to Jasper,' answered Eve. ' Mr. Jasper,' said Barbara, ' was not invited to Brad- stone.' ' Oh, that does not matter ! ' said the ready I'h'e. ' I ac- cepted for him. You know, dear Bab — I mean Barbie — that I had to write, as you were up to your lU'ck in tapioca. A\'ell, at these parties there are so many girls and so few gentlemen, that I thought I would give the Clobcrry girls and Mr. Jasper a pleasure at once, so I wrote to say that you and I accepted and would bring with us a young gentle- man, a friend of papa, who was staying in tlie house, ^fr. Jasper ought to know the neighbours, and get some pleasure.' Barbara was aghast. ' I think. Miss Eve, you have been playing tricks with * i 1 1 11 I5S E VE ; \^ \\ me,' said Jasper. ' Surely I imtTerstood you that I IkkI been specially invited, and that you had accordiiiL;ly ac- cepted for me.' ' Did I? ' asked Eve carelessly; 'it is all the same. The Cloberry girls ^vilI be delighted to see you. Last time I was there they said they hoped to have an afternoon daneo, but were troubled how to fnid gentlemen as partners for all tlie pretty ^Misses.' ' That behig so,' said Barbara sternly, turning as she spoke to Jasper, ' of course you do not go ? ' ' Not go ! ' exclaimed Eve ; ' to be sure he goes. "W'o arc engaged to each other for a score of dances.' Then, seeing the gloom gathering on her sister's brow, she ex- plained, ' It is a ]dan between us so as to get free from Doctor Squash. When Squash asks my hand, I can say I am engaged. I have been booked by him for two dances, and he shall have no more.' ' You have beeii inconsiderate,' said Barbara. ' Unfor- tunately Mr. Babb cannot leave ]\Iorwell, as my father is in his bed — it is not possible.' ' I have no desire to go,' said Jasper. ' I do not suppose you have,' said Barbara haughtily, turning to him. ' You are judge of what is right and lil- ting — in every way.' Then Eve's temper broke out. Her cheeks flushccl, her lips quivered, and the tears started into her eyes. ' I will not allow Mr. Jasper to bo thus treated,' she exclaimed. ' I cannot understand you. Barbie ; how can you, who are usually so considerate, grudge ]\[r. Jasper a little pleasure? He has been working hard for papa, and he has been kind to me, and he has made your garden pretty, and now you arc mean and ungrateful, and send him back to his room when he is dressed for the party. I'll go and ask papa to interfere.' Then she ran off to her father's room. The moment Eve was out of hearing, Barbara's anger blazed forth. * You arc not acting right. You forget your A nUXCII OF ROSES 159 position ; you foi-f^'ct ^vllo you urc. llow dure you iillnw my sister ? If you liacT a spark of lionour, a 1,'raiii of good feeling in your lu'art, you -would keep her at arm's length. She is a child, inconsiderate and confiding ; you are a man Avitli such a foul stain on vour name, that von must not come near those ^vho arc clean, lest you smirch them. Keep to yourself, sir ! Away ! ' * Miss Jordan,' he answered, with a trouhled expression nn his face and a quiver in his voice, ' you are hard on me. I had no desire wliatever to go to this dance, hut Miss l''.vo told me it was arranged that I was to go, and I am ohedi- ent in this house. Of course, ]iow I withdraw.' ' Of course you do. Good heavens ! In a few davs some cliance might bring all to light, and then it would be the scandal of the neighbourhood that we had intro- duced — that Eve had danced with — an escaped jail-bird — ■ a vulgar thief.' Hho walked out through the door, and threw the bunch of yellow roses upon the plot of grass in the quadrangle. CIIAl'TER XXIV. wiii'KK 'I'lniY wri'. r.i;i;n. IV'vKiiAJiA did not enjoy the l^arly at tlie Clcberrys. ISho was dull and abstracted. It vas otherwise v.ilh ]^'.ve. During the drive she had sulked; she was in a ])et with Barbara, who was a stupid, tiresome marplot. Lut when slie arrived at ]h'adsto]ie and was surrounded by admirers, v.lien she had dilliculty, not in getting jnirtners, but in selecting among tliose who pressed themselves on lur. Iwe's spirits were elated, bhe forgot about Jasper, Bar- bara, her father, about everything but present delight. With sparkhng eyes, heightened colour, and dimples tliat came and went in her smiling face, she sailed past Barbara M : *i Ill it m 1!! I||l S i III I <\ « :• I Co EJ7: "without observing licr, cugrossed in ilic plcasiu'c of the CKinco, and in playing ^vith lici* partner. Barbara "was content to be unnoticed. She sat by her- self in a corner, scarce noticing what went oa, so wrapped up was she in lier thoughts. Her mood wiis observed bv lier hostess, and atrributed to aixxiety for her father. jMrs. Clobcrry went to her, seated herself at her side, and talked to her kindly about Mr. Jordan and his accident. ' You have a friend staying with you. Wc rather ex- pected him,' said j\Irs. Cloberry. ' Oh ! ' Barbara answered, ' that was dear Eve's non- sense. She is a child, and does not think. 'My father has engaged a steward ; of course ho could not come.' ' IIow lovely Eve is ! ' said Mrs. Cloberry. * I think I never saw so exquisite a creature.* ' And she is as good and sweet as slio is lovely,' an- swered Barbara, alwayi^ eager to sing her sister's praises. Eve's roses were greatly admired. {She had her posy out of lier waistband showing the roses, and many a com- pliment was occasioned by them. ' 13arbara had a beauli- fuU bouquet also,' she said, and looked round. ' Oh, Bab 1 where are your yellow roses ? ' * I liavo dropped them,' answered Barbara. Besides dancing there was singing. Eve required little pressing. ' ]\Iy dear Miss Jordan,' said ]\[rs. Clobcrry, ' how your sister has improved in style. A\ Jio has been giving her lessons '? ' The party was a pleasant one; it broke up early. It, began at four o'clock and was ov( r Avhen the sun set. As lli(> sisters drove home, Eve prattled as a brook over stones. She had perfectly enjoyed herself, bhc had outshone every girl present, had been much courted and greatly llattered. Eve was not a vain girl ; she Inicw she was pretty, and accepted homage as her right. Iler fatlier and sister had ever been her slaves; an.d she expected to fmd everyone wear chains before her. But there was no vulgar conceit WHERE THEY WITHERED i6i about her. A queen born to wear the crown grows up to expect reverence and devotion. It is her due. So with Eve ; she had been a queen in Morwell since infancy. Barbara listened to her talk and answered her in mono- syllables, but her mind was not with the subject of Eve's conversation. She was thinking tlien, and she had been thinking at Bradstone, whilst the floor throbbed with danc- ing feet, whilst singers were peribrniing, of that bouquet of yellow roses which she had flung away. Was it still lying on the grass in the quadrangle "? Had Jane, the housemaid, seen it, picked it up, and taken it to adorn the kitchen table ? She knew that Jasper must have taken a long walk to procure those two bunches of roses. She knew that he could ill afford the expense. When he was ill, she had put aside his little purse containing his private money, and had counted it, to make sure that none was lost or taken. She knew that he was poor. Out of the small sum he owned he must have paid a good deal for these roses. She had thrown her bunch away in angry scorn, under liis eyes. She had been greatly provoked ; but — had she behaved in a ladylike and Christian spirit? She might have left her roses in a tumbler in the parlour or the hall. That would have been a courteous rebuff — but to fling I hem away ! There are as many conflicting currents in the human soul as in the ocean ; some run from east to west, and some from north to south, some are sweet and some bitter, some hot and others cold. Only in the Sargasso Sea are there no currents — and that is a sea of weeds. What we believe to-day we reject to-morrow ; we are resentful at one moment over a wrong inflicted, and are repentant the next for having been ourselves the wrong-doer. Barbara had been in fiery indignation at throe o'clock against Jasper ; by five she was cooler, and by six reproached lierself. As the siste: ^. .Irove into the little quadrangle. Barbara M 162 EV/C \:il turned her Loacl aside, and wliiLst kIic made as thongli she were unwindin.c,' tlio knitted sliawl that was "swapt about her liead, she looked across the turf, and saw lying, whcro ■she had cast it, the hunch of ro~os. The stahlc-hoy came with his lantern to take the hors^ and carriage, and tlic sisters dismounted. Jane appeared at the hall door to divest them of their wraps. * How is papa? ' asked Evo ; then, witliout waiting for an answer, slic ran into her father's room to ](i.-s him and tell him of the party, and show herself ag»in in lier pretty dress, and again receive his words of praise and love. But Barbara remained at the door, leisurely folding her cloak. TJien she put both her own and her sister's parasols together in the stand. Then she stood brushhig her soles on tlie mat — quite unnecessarily, as they were; not dirty. ' You may go away, Jane,' said Barbara to the maid, who lingered at the door. 'Please, ]\liss, I'm waiting for you to come in, that I may lock up.' Then Barbara was obliged to enter. * Has j\rr. Babb been with my father ? ' she asked. * No, Miss. I haven't seen him since you left.' ' You may go to bed, Jane. It is washing-day to- morrow, and you will have to bo up at four, lias not Mr. r>abb had his supper ? ' ' No, Miss. He has not been here at all.' * That will do.' She signed the maid to leave. She stood in the hall, hesitating. Should slio unbar the door and go out and recover the roses '? Eve would leave her father's room in a moment, and ask questions which it would bo inconvenient to answer. Let them lie. She went upstairs with her sister, after having wished her father good-night. ' Barbie, dear ! ' said Eve, * did you observe Mr. Squash ? ' ' Do not, Evo. That is not his name.* WHERE THEY WITHERED 163 * I think he loola'd a Kttle disconcerted. I repudiated.' ' What do you mean ".' ' ' I refused to bo bound by the enc,'agenients ^ve had made for a quadrille and a waltz. I did not want to danco with him, and I did not,' * liun back into your ro>'n?i, darlin,Lj, and j:(o to bed.' When ]3arbara v>as alone siie went to her window and opened it. The window looked into the court. If she leaned her head out far, she could see where the bunch of roses ought to be. ]5ut she could not sec llicin, though she looked, for the grass lay dusk in the sIkkIows. The moon was rising, aiul shone on the long roof like steel, and the light was creeping down the wall. That long roof was over the washhouse, and next morning rt early dawn tliu mnids would cross the quadrangle with the linen and c:irry fuel, and would either trample on or ]uck up and n]ipro- priate the bunch of yellow roses. ]>arbara remembered every word that she had said to Jasper. She could not forget — and ]U)w could not forgive herself. Her words had been cruel; how they nuist ha\t) wounded him ! He had not been seen since. Perhaps ho was gone and would not return again. 'J'hey and she would see him no more. That would be well in one way, it would relieve her of anxiety about 1:1 ve ; but, on the other hand, Jasper had proved himself most useful, and, above all — he was repentant. Her treatment of him nn'ght make him desperate, aiul cause him to abandon his reso- lutions to amend. JJarbara knelt at the win i64 EVE ^liiiiji Then Larljara, Avitliout liei" shoes, stole downstairs. TliLTG was sufliciciit light in the hall for her to lind her way across it to the main door. She very softly unbarred it, and still in her stockings, unshod, went out on the doorstop, over the gravel, the dewy grass, and picked up tlie cold wet bunch. Then she slipped in again, refastened the door, and with beating heart regained her room. Now that she had ihu roses, what should she do with them? She stood in the middle of lier room near the candle, looking at them. They were not much faded. The sun had not reached them, and the cool grass had kept them fresh. They were very delicately formed, lovely roses, and freshly sweet. Wliat should she do with them? If they were put in a tumbler they would flourish for a few days, and then the leaves would fall off, and leave a dead cluster of seedless rose-hearts. ] Barbara had a desk that had belonged to her mother, aiul tliis desk had in it a secret drawer. In this drawer ]>arbara preserved a few special treasures ; a miniature of lier mother, a silver cold-cream capsule with the head of (^)ueen Anne on it, that had belonged to her grandmotiici-, lliu ring of brilliants and sapphire that had come to her from her aunt, and a lock of Eve's hair when she was a baby. ] Barbara folded the roses in a sheet of white paper, wrote in pencil on it the date, and placed them in the secret drawer, thei'e to wither along with the greatest treasures she possessed. Barbara's heart was no Sargasso Sea. In it ran cur- rents strong and contrary. "What ; ho cast away with scorn in the afternoon, she sought and hid as a treasure in the night. I III 1 1 165 CHAPTER XXV. II II LEAH AND IIACIIEL. Sunday was a quiet day at Morwcll. As the Joi-clans were Catholics they did not attend their parish church, Avliich was Tavistock, some four miles distant. The servants went, or pretended to go. ^lorwell was quiet on all days, it was most quiet of all on a bright Sunday, for tlicn there were fewest people about the old house. Jasper Babb had not run away, offended at Barbara's rudeness. He went about his work as usual, was as little seen of the sisters as might be, and silent when in their company. On Sunday evening Barbara and Eve strolled nut to- gether; it was their wont to do so on that day, wlien the weather permitted. Jane, the housemaid, was at home with their father. They directed their steps as usual to the Eaveu Jvock, which commanded so splendid a view to the west, was so airy, and so sunny a spot that they liked to sit there and talk. It was not often that Barbara had the leisure for such a ramble ; on Sundays she made a point of it. As the two girls emerged from the wood, and came out on the platform of rock, they were surprised to see Jasper seated there with a book on his knee, lie rose at once on hear- ing their voices and seeing them. If he had wished to escape, escape was impossible, for the rock descends on all sides sheer to great depths, except where the patli leado to it. * Do not let us disturb you,' said Barbara ; ' we will withdraw if we interrupt your studies.' ' What is the book ? ' asked Eve. ' If it be poetry, read us something from it.' [66 EVE 'V\i lie hesitated a luonieiit, then witli a smile said, ' Tt contains tlie uohlist poetry — it is my llihle.' 'The ]'>ihle!' exchiimed ]3arhara. She was pk'ascd. He certainly was sincere in his repentance. lie would not liavc t^'one away to a private spot to read the sacred volume unless he were in earnest. ' lict us sit down, Larbic ! ' said Eve. ' Don't run away, ]\rr. Jasper.' ' As ]\Ir. Jasper was reading, and you asked him to give you something from the book, I will join in the request.' ' I thought it was perhaps — J>yron,' said I'^vo. ' As it is not Byron, but something better, we shall bo all the better satisfied to have it read to us,' said Barbara. ' Well, then, some of the story part, p^ -^e,' asked l^ve, screwing up her mouth, ' and not mach oi it.' ' I should prefer a Psalm,' said Barbara ; * or a chapter from one of tlie l^pistles.' ' I do not know what to read,' Jasper said smiling, 'as each of }ou asks for something tiifferent.' ' I have an idea,' exclaimed Eve. ' lie shall hold the book shut. I will close my eyes and open the volume at hap-hazard, and point with my finger. lie shall read that, and we cini conjure from it, or guess our characters, or read our fate. Then you shall do the same. AVill that please you ? ' ' I do not know about guessing characters and reading our fate ; our characters we know by introspection, and the future is hidden from our eyes by the same Hand that sent the book. But if you wish Mr. Jasper to bo guided by this method what ^o read, I do not object.' ' Very well,' said Eve, in glee ; ' that will be fun ! You will promise, ])arb.i j, to shut your eyes when you open and put your finger on a ]^.age ? And, ]\fr. Jasper, you promise to read exactly what my sister and I select ? ' i \ es,' answered both to whom she appealed. 'But mind this,' pursued the lively giii; '^uu must stop as soon as I am tired.' LEAH AND RACHEL 167 Then first, cn.qor in all -lie did that promised entortain- iiK nt or diversion, sho took the liihlo from ]Mr. iJubb's luinds. and closed lier eyes; a pretty siiiilo played about her llexible lips as Av.i sat piropnij,' with her lh\L;'er aiuoni^' the paj^'es. Then she opened tho book and her blue orbs together. 'There!' sho exelaimed, *I have made my ehoiec ; yet --^vait ! I \vill mark my place, and then pass tlio book to r)ab — I mean, IJarbie.' Sho had a Avild summer rose in her bosom. She pulled off a i^ctal, touched it with her tongue, and put tho leaf at the ,pot sho had selected. Then she shut tlio iSiblo with a snap, laughed, and handed it to her sister. ' I need not shut my c; s,' said Barbn va ; ' I will look you full in the face, Eve.' Then she took the l)ook and felt for ihc end pages that she might light on an Kpistlo ; jus^ as she saw that Eve had groped for an early part of tho book that she might have a story from the times of the patri- archs. Sho did not laiow that Eve in handing her the book had not turned it; consequently she lield tho lUble reversed. Barbara held a buttercup in her lutud. She was so accustomed to use her fingers, that it was strange to her to have nothing to employ tiicm. As they came through tho meadows sho had picked a few flowers, brolcen the stalks and thrown them away. There remained in her hand but one buttercup. Barbara placed the Bible on her lap ; she, like Eve, had seated herself on tho rocky ledge. Then she opened near what she believed to be tho end of the book, and laid tho golden cup on a page. Eve leaned towards her and looked, and uttered an ex- clamation. ' "What is it ? ' asked Barbara, and looked also. Behold ! the golden flower of Barbara was shining on the pink petal of Eve's rose. • ^Ve have chosen the same place. Now, r>arbie, what do you say to this ? Is it a chance, or arc we going to :;vi!,i 1 68 EVE i ii^: litl M I 11 ' i'li li'iii-ii our fate, \vliich is bound up t(),!^Ttlior, from tlin passago Mr. Jasper is about to read'? ' i 'V Tlicro is no mystery in the matter,' .said liarbnni quietly ; ' you did not turn the book when you gave it to id it ,'d \\\\ flower \i naturally oponec * Go on, Mr. Jasper,' exhorted Eve. ]>ut the young man seemed ill-disposed to obey. * Yes,' said IJarbara ; ' begin. We are ready.' Then Jasper began to read : — 'Jacob went on his journey, and came into the land of the people of the east. And he looked, and behold a well ir ^ield, and, lo, there were flocks of sheep lying by it.' ' i am glad we are going to have this story,' said ]'iVe ; ' I like it. It is a pretty one. Jacob came to that hous(! of Laban just as you, Mr. ]3abb, have come to !Morwell.' Jasper read on ; — ' And Laban had two daughters : now the name of the elder was Leah, and the name of the younger was liachel. Leah was tender eyed ; but Eachcl was beautiful and well- favoured.' Jjarbnra was listening, but as she listened she looked away into the blue distance over the vast gulf of the Tamar valley towards the Cornish moors, the colour of cobalt, with a salmon sky above them. Something must at that moment have struck the mind of Jasper, for he paused in his reading, and his eyes sought hers. She said in a hard tone, ' Go on.' Then he continued in a low voice, ' And Jacob loved Rachel ; and said, I will serve thee seven years for Rachel, thy yovniger daughter. And Laban said, It is better that I give her to thee, than that I should give her to another man : abide with me. And Jacob served seven years for Rachel ; and they seemed unto him but a few days, for the love he liad to her.' The reader again paused ; and again with a hard voice Barbara bade him proceed. * And Jacob said unto Laban, Give me my wife, for my LEAir AXn RACHEL 169 (layH aro fulfillod. And Lalmii j,'athL'rc(l togt'tliir all tlio men of the pljR-e, and made a feast. And it came to pass in the cvcninf,', that lie took Ijeah his daiiLrhter, jiiid brought her to Jacob.' * That will do,' said Eve, ' I am tired.' * It seems to me,' said liarhara, in a suhdiud tone, 'that Leah was a dispicablc woman, a woman without self-respect. She took the man, though she knew his heart was set on llachel, and that he did not care a rush for her. No ! — I do not like the story. It is odious.' She stood up and, beckoning to live, left the platlbrni of rock. Jasper remained where ho had been, without closing the boolc, without reading further, lost in tliought. Then a small head appeared above tlie side of the rock where it jutted out of the bank of underwood, also a pair of hands that clutched at the projecting points of stone ; and in another moment a boy had pulled himself on to the plat- form, and lay on it with his feet dangling over the edge, his head and breast raised on his hands. lie was laughing. ' What ! dreaming, iMaster Ju per Jacob ? Of whicji '.' Of the weak-eyed Leah or the blue-orbed Jiacliel ? ' The young man started as if he had been stung. * \Yhat has brought you here, AVatt ? No good, I fear.' ' my dear Jasper, there you are out. Goodness per- sonified has brought me here — even your own pious self, sitting Bible-reading to two pretty girls. How hiipjjv could I be with either ! Eh, Jasper '} ' ' What do you want with me ? ' asked Jasper, redden- ing ; ' I detest your fun.' ' Which is it ? ' taunted the mischievous boy. * ^\'lli(•l,' — the elder, plain and dark ; or the younger, beautiful as dawn ? or — like the patriarch Jacob — both ? * Enough of this, W^att. What has brou-jlit you here ? ' % n I I m I' II ;;: r )f I . I 1 4 i ii I I)! I'l Mil i ! I ill i ii 170 iiTTi' ' To SCO you, of course. I know you think mo vo'M of all Christianity, but I have that in nic yet, I like to Know the v^heroahouts of my brother, and how he is gutting on. I am still with ]\Iartin — ever on the move, like die sun, lilce the winds, like the streams, lilvC everything that docs not stagnate.' ' It is a hard thing for mo to say,' said Jasper, ' but it is true. Poor ]\Iartin would bo better without you. He would bo another man, and liis life not blighted, had it not ])een for your profane and mocking tongue. He was a generous-hearted fellow, thoughtless, but not svicked ; yc, however, have gained compluic power over liim, and liavo used it for evil. Your advice is for the bad, vour sneers for what is good.' ' I do not know good from bad,' said tlio boy, with a contemptuous grin. ' Watt, you have scoffed at every good impulse in Martin's heart, you have drowned the voice of his con- sciencG by your gibes. It is aou who havu driven him with your waspish tongue along the road of ruin.' ' Not at all, Jasper ; there you wrong me. It was you who had the undoing of ]\Iartin. You have loved liim and screened him since he A\as a child. You have taken the punishment and blame on you which ho .'.osoived by his misconduct. Of course he is a giddy-pate. It is you who have kit him grow up without diead of the consequences of wrong-doing, because the punishment always fell on you. You, Jasper, Jiavo spoiled Martin, not I.' ' Well, Watt, this may bo so. Father was unduly liarsh. I had no one else to love at homo but my brother ]\fartm. You were sueli a babe as to be no coinpanion. And ]\[artin I did — I do love. Such a noble, handsome, IVardc-heailed brother! All sunshine and laughter ! 'Mv childhood had been cliarged with grief and shado^.•, and I did my best to screen him. One must love somethhig in this world, or the licart dies. I lo\ed my brother.' ' Love, love ! ' laughed Watt. ' Now you have that LKAII AXn RACHEL 171 heart so full tliut it is ovci'llowiii'^- towards two nice i^irls. I suppose that, oiithralled hetweeii hhu; eyes and brown, you have no tliou,i;ht left for Martin, none for father — ^vllo, by the way, is dying.' ' Dying ! ' exclaimed Jasper, springing to his feet. ' There, now ! ' said the boy ; ' don't in your astonish- ment topple over the edge of the precipice into Idngdoni come.' ' I low do you know this, ^Vatt ? ' asked Jasper in great agitation. 'iH'causo I have been to IhicLfastleigh and seen the; beastly old liole, and the factory, and the grey rat in his hole, curled up, gnawing his nails and squealing with pain.' ' For shame of vou, Watt ! vou have no reverence even for vour father.' ' licverence, Jasper ! none in the world for anybody or anything. Evervthing like reverence was killed out of ine by my training.' ' What is the matter witli father? ' '.low should I tell".' 1 saw him making contortions and yowling. I did not approacli too near lest he should bite.' * I shall go at once,' said Jasper earnestly. ' Of course you will. You are the heir. I'll ! Jasper ! When you conio in for the house and cloth mill, you will extend to us the helping hand. you saint ! ^\ by don't you dance as I do? Ami taken in by your long face? Ain't I sure that your heart is beating because now at last you will come in for the daddy's collected money ? Toor ]\hirtin ! lie can't come and share. You won't be mean, but divide, Jasper? I'll be tlie go-between.' ' ]5e silent, you wicked boy!' said Ja^ptr angrily ; *I cannot endure your talk. It is repugnant to nu'.' ' r>ecausc I talk of sliaring. You, the s;ant ! IIo sniffs filthy mannnon and away he IHls lilo' a crow to carrion. Good-bye, Jasper ! Away you go like an arrow \l 3 r 1* hit&l^.: ! ". .[ f! 172 TTr/s from tlio bow. Don't let that old lioiisolveeper rummaf,'(5 the stockiiif,'s stuffod with guineas out of the chimney l)eforo you get to Duclcfastleigh ! ' Jasper left tlic rock and strode hastily towards Mor- well, troubled at heart at the news given him. Had ho looked behind him as he entered the wood, he would have seen the boy maknig grimaces, capering, clapping his hands and knees, whistling, screaming snatches of operatic tunes, laughing, and sliouting ' Which is it to be, Kachel or Leali ? ' CTlArTER XXVI. A N I yi V O ]■' D A 1; K X E S S . Jaspimi went iinniediately to I\rr. Jordan. lie found Eve with licr father. Jane, tlic liousemaid, had exhibited signs of restlessness and impatience to be oft". Josepli Woodman, the policeman from Tavistock, a young and sleepy man who was paying her his addresses, had a])- peared at tlie kitchen window and coughed. He Avas off' (hity, and Jane tliought it hard that she should be on wlun he was off. So Eve had let her depart with lur lover. ' WYdl,' said lAv. Jordan, wlio was «till in bed, ' what is it ? ])o you want me V ' ' I have come to ask your permission to leave for a few days. I nmst go to my fatlier, who is dying. I will re- turn as soon as I can.' ]*jve's great blue eyes opened witii amazement: * You said nothing about this ten minutes ago.' ' 1 did not know it thei;.' ' What! ' exclaimed Lr. Jordan, trying to rise on hi;; elbow, and his eyes brightening, • Ezekiel 13abb dying I Is justice overtaking him at last ? ' * I hear that ho is dying,' said Jasper ; ' it is my duty to go to him.' AN IMP OF DARKNESS 173 'If lie dies,' said Mr. Jonliiii, 'to ^vhuiii will lus liropcrty go ? ' ' Probably to me ; but it is prciiiaturo to iiujuiro.' ' Not at all. ]My Evo lias been robbed ' ' Sir ! ' said Jasper gravely, ' I undertook to repay lliat sum as soon as it should be in my power to do so, ])riii('i- l)al and interest. I liav(; your permission, sir?' Ih bowed and withdrew. At supper r)arl)ai'a looked round, and notit-cd t lie absence of Jasper Dabb, but she said nothing. ' You need not look at that empty chair,' said J'^vc , ' Mr. Jasper will not be here, lie is gone.' * Gone where ? ' ' Called away suddenly. Ilis father is dying.' liarbara raised her eyebrows. She was greatly pu/.zled. She sat playing with her fork, and presently said, ' This is very odd — who brought the news ? ' 'I saw no one. lie came in almost directly after we left him on the Raven Rock.' ' Rut no one came up to the house.' 'Oh, yes— Joseph Woodman, .laiir's sweeth< ai't, the policeman.' ' lie cannot have brought ilic new >>.' 'I do not think Mr. Jasper naw him, but 1 cainiot say.' ' I cannot understand it, Eve,' nuised Barbara. ' What is more, I do not believe it.' Barbara was more puzzled and disturliid than shn chose to show. How could Jasper have recelvetl news of his father? If the old man had sent a messenger, that messenger would have come to the house and rested there, and been refreshed with a glass of cider and cake and cold beef. No one had been to the house but the policeman, and a policeman was not likely to be madi; the vehicle of comnmnication between old Rabb aiul liis son, living in concealment. More probably Jasper had notiee(i thai a policeman was hovering about Morwell, had taken alnnu, and absented himself. '^k-, 1/4 IZVE Then that story of Jacob Hcrvin.!:^ for Raclicl and bcin.c^ pfivcn Lcali came bade on ]i( r. "Was it not bciiii;- in pint enacted before her eyes? Was not Jjisjxir there aetin,',,^ ;is i^tcward to her father, hkely to remain there for some years, and all the time ^vitll the love of Eve consuming his heart ? ' And the seven years seemed unto hhn but a few days for the love that he had to her.' Wliat of I'A'e ? A\'onld slio come to care for liirn, and in lier Avilfulness insist on haviiiL;- liim ? It cfnild jiot Ijc. It must not be. IMease (lod, now that Jasper was j^^one, he would not return. Then, a,c,'ain, lier mind swiinL,^ bade to the per- plexing question of the reason of .Jasper's departure. Pie could ]iot go home. It was out of the (pU'stuMi his sliow- iiig his face again at ])iu'ld'asn(i:'ji. lb' would be recog- nised and taken immediately. W'iiy did lie invent and pass off on her fatlier such a falsehood as an excuse for his disappearance; ? If he were made uneasy by the arrival of tlie Ta^istoc]v policeman at tlie house, he ]uight have found some other excuse, but to deliberately say that Ids father was dying and tluit ho must attend his death-bed, this was monstrous. Eve remained till late, '^ittiiig in the parlour without a light. The servant nuuds were all out. Their eagerness to attend places of worship on Sunday — especially Sunday evenings — showed a strong spirit of devotion ; and the lateness of the hour to which those acts of worship de- tained them proved also ihat tlieir piety was of stubborn and enduring quality. Clenerally, one of the maids re- mained at homo, but on this occasion l)arbara and Eve had allowed Jane to go out A\lu'n she had laid the table for supper, because her policeman had come, and there was to be a love-feast at the little dissenting chapel whicli Jane attended. The lover having turned up, the love-feast niust follow. As the servan.ts had not returned, Uaibara remained below, waiting till she heard tluir voices, lier father Ava ■ dozing. She looked in at him and then returned to her yhV IMP OF DARKNESr^ T75 placG by tlio latlicoil Avindow. The room was dark, but tliorc Avas silvery liglit in the summer slcy, becoming very white towards the north. Outside tlie "sviudow was a jessa- mine ; the scent it exhaled at night was too strong. Bar- bara shut the window to exclude the fntgranco. It made licr liead ache. A h'ght air played \\\i\\ the jessamine, and brushed some of the white flowers pgaijist the ghiss. ]^)iirbara v,as usually sharp with the servants when they returned from their revivals, and love-feasts, and mission- ary meetings, late; but this evening she felt no impatience. She had plenty to occupy her mind, and the time passed quickly with her. All at once she heard a loud prolonged hoot of an owl, so iieiir and so loud that she felt sure the ])ird must ];o in the house. Next moment she heard her father's voice calling repeatedly and excited! v. She ran to liini and found him alarmed and agitated, ili.-; v.'indow had been left open, as the eveniiig was warm. 'I heard an owl!' he said. 'It was at my ear; ii called, and roused me from my sleep. It was :iot an owl — • I do not know what it was. I saw something, I am not sure what.' ' Papa dear, I heard the bird. You know there a-ro several about. They have their nests in the barn and old empty pigeon-house. One camo by the window hooting. I heard it also.' ' I saw somethhig,' he said. She took his hand. It was cold and trembling. ' You were dreaming, papa. Tlie owl roused you, and dream.-:, inixed with your waking impressions, so tli;it you camuit distinguish one from a]iother.' ' I do not know,' lie said, vacantly, and put his hand to his head. ' I do see and liear strange thing's. Do not leave me alone, Barbara. Kindle a light, and I'ead me one of Challoner's ^Meditations. It may compose mo.' Eve was upstairs, anuising herself with unfolding and trying on the yellow and crimson dress she had lound in the garret. She knew that Barbara would not come up- ■*fit) >" ■*' f \ ih '^t I ii, ^f i:(^ r.vR stairs yet. Slio woultl liavG been afraid to masquerade before her. Slio put her looking-glass on a chair, so tluit she miglit see herself better in it. Then she took the tiui- l)rel, and poised lierself on one foot, and held the instru- ment over her head, and lightly tingled the little bells. She had put on tlie blue tur(pu)ise ring. She looked at it, Idssed it, -waved that hand, and rattled the tambourine, but not so loud that Jj.irbai'a might hear. Eve was quite happy tlnis amusing h'Tseli*. llur only disappointment Avas that slie had not more such dresses to try on. All at once she started, stood still, turjied and uttered a cry of terror. She had been posturing hitherto with her back to the window. A noise at it made her look round. She saw, seated in it, v/ith his short legs inside, and his hands grasping tlie stone mullions — a small dark figure. ♦ ^Vell done. Eve ! Well done, Zerlina 1 L;\ ci darom la mano, Li\ lai (lirai di si ! ' Then the boy laughed maliciously ; he enjoyed her con- fusion and alarm. ' The weak-eyed Leah is away, quieting Jjaban,' h(( said ; ' Leah shall have lier Jacob, but Hachel shall get f'sau, the gay, the handsome, whose hand is against every m;v.i, or rather one against whom every man's hand is raised. I am going to jump into your room.' ' Keep away ! ' cried Eve in the greatest alarm. ' If you cry out, if you rouse Leah and bring her here, I will make sucli a hooting raid howling as will kill the old man downstairs with fear.' ' 111 pity go. AVliat do you want ? ' asked Eve, backing from the window to the farthest wall. ' Take care ! Do not run out of the room. If you at- tempt it, I will jump in, and make my fiddle squeal, and caper about, till even the sober Iiarbara — Leah I mean — will believe that devils have taken possession, and as for the old man, he will give up his gliost to them without u protest.' fK i AN IMP OF DARKM-S^ rv7 * 1 entreat you — I iinplorc you — go ! ' pleadfcl I'.vc, \villi tears of alarm in lier eyes, cowering' back airainst tlic ^vall, too IViglitened even to tliink of the costume slio ■wore. ' All ! ' jeered the impish boy. ' liun aloiii^' down into the room where your sister is roadin^j^ and prayin;^' with tlio old man, and what will they suppose but that a cra/y opera-dancer has broken loose from her caravan and is ramblinf,' over the country.' lie chuckled, he enjoyed her terror. ' Do you know how I have manai^^d to .get this liltl(> talk with you uninterrupted ? I hooted in at the window of your father, and wlien lie woke madtj faces at him. 'J'hcn , ]ie screamed for helji, and IJarbara went to him. Mow here am I ; I scrambled up the old pear-tri'c trained against tlie wall. AN'lintis it, a Chaumontol or a Jargo- nelle? It can't be a Uon ChnHien, or it would not ha\e borne me.' ]"'ve"s face was white, her eyes were wide with terror, her hands behind her scrabbled at the wall, and tore the paper. ' Oh, what do you want ? Pray, pray go ! ' ' I will come in at the window, I will caper and whisth^ and scream and fiddle. I will jump on the bed and kick Jill the clothes this way, that way. I will throw your Sun- day frock out of the window ; I will smash the basin and water-bottle, and glass and jug. 1 will throw the mirror against the wall ; I will tear down the blinds and curtains, and drive the curtain-pole through the windows ; I will throw your candle into the heap of clothes and linen and curtain, and make a blaze which will burn the room and set the house flaming, unless you make me a solemn pro- mise. I have a message for you from poor ]\Iartin. l*of)r Martin ! his heart is breaking, lie can thirdi only of l(n( ly Kve. As soon as the sun sets be on the Raven Hock to- morrow.' ' I cannot. Do leave the window.' • Very well,' said the boy, • in ten minutes the house t I .f< %M 178 EVE IIH will 1)0 on fire. I nni coming in ; you run away. I .shall lock yon out, and before you have got help together the room Avill he in a hlaze.' 'What do you want ? I will promise anything to he rid of you.' ' rromi.se to he on the Haven Rock to-morrow even- ing.' ' Why must I l^e there ? ' ']>ecause I have a message to give you there,' ' Give it me now.' 'I cannot; it is too long. That sister of yours will come tumbling in on us with a Iioley-poley, gannnon and spinach, ITeigh-ho! says Anthony Jiolcy, oh ! ' ' Yes, yes ! I will promise' Instantly he slipped his leg out, she saw only the hands on the bottom of t]:o window. Then u]) came the boy's queer face again, that he might make grimaces at her and sliiiko his fist, and point to candle, and bed, and garments^ and curtains : and then, in a moment, ho was gone. Some minutes ela])scd before Eve recovered courage to leave her place, shut her window, and take olf the tawdry dross in which she had disguised herself. She heard the voices of the ccrvant maids returning along the \\\\\(\ Soon after Jjarbara came upstairs. She found her sister sitting on the bed. ' What is it, I'.vc ? You look white and frightened.' Eve did not answer. ' What is the matt'^r, dear ? Have you been alarmed at anything ? ' ' Y'es, Inib,' in a faint voice. ' ])id you see anything from your window ? ' •I think so.' ' I cannot understand,' said l^arbara. ' I also fancied I saw a dark figure dart across the garden and leap the wall whilst I was reading to papa. I can't say, because there was a candle in our room.' ' Don't you think,' said Eve, in a faltering voice, * It n Ai 1 A.V IMP OF DARKXESS 179 niny havo Iccn Jo.-'cpli "Woodinnn partin,!; witli Jane '? ' ]'iVc's clieolvS coloured as she said this ; slio "SvaH false with lior sister. Barbara shook her lioad, and went into her own room. ' He lias gone,' she thought, ' because the house is watched, his ■whereabouts has been discovered. I am glad ho is gone. It is best for himself, for Eve ' — after a pause — * and for mo.' Ivl iLl^.^:..; CIIAPTEK XXYII. it rOOli MAILTIN. Eve was uneasy all next day— at intervals — she could do nothing continuously — because of her promise. The re- collection that she had bound herself to meet "Watt on the Haven l^ock at sundown came on her repeatedly during tlie day, spoiling her happiness. She would not havo scrupled to fail to keep her promise, but that the horrible boy would be sure to force himself upon her, and in revenge do some dreadful mischief. She was so much afraid of him, that she felt that to keep her appointment was the lesser evil. As the sun declined her heart failed her, and just before the orb set in bronze and gold, she asked Jane, the house- maid, to accompany her through the fields to the Ivaven Rock. Timid Eve daro not trust herself alone on the dangerous platform with that imp. lie was capable of any devilry, lie might scare her out of her wits. Jane was a good-natured girl, and she readily obliged hor young mistress. Jane ^Velsh's mother, who was a ^^idow, lived not far from Morwcll, in a cottage on the banks of the Tamar, higher up, where a slip of level meadow ran out from the cliffs, and the river made a loop round it. N 2 i i \ ir iiil _:i^i3!£« iSo PA'E Mm \\:\ As Eve ^Yullvetl tlirougli the fiuklrf towards tlio wood, and iioarcd tlie trees and roclcs, she l)c,!:jau to think that she liad made a mistake. It would not do for Jane to sec Walt. She would talk about him, and Ikirhara would hear, and question her. If ]5arl)ara asked her wliy she had gone out at dusk to meet the boy, what answer could she make ? "WJiciiEve came to the gate into the wood, she stood still, and liolding the gate half open, told Jane she might stay there, for she would go on by herself. Jane was surprised. 'Please, I^Iiss, I've nothing to take me back to the house.' Eve hastily protested that she did not want her to return : she was to remain at the gate — 'And if I call — come on to me, Jane, not otherwise. I have a headache, and I want to be alone.' 'Very well, ^Miss.' ]Uit Jane was puzzled, and said to herself, 'There's a love:', sure as eggs in April.' Then Eve closed the gate between herself and Jane, and went on. IV'fore disappearing into the shade of tlu! trees, she looked ba'k, and saw the maid where she had left her, plaiting grass. A lover ! A lover is the philosopher's stone that turns the sordid alloy of life into gold. The idea of a lover was the most natural solution of the caprice in Miss Eve's conduct. As every road leads to Home, so in the servant- maid mind does every lino of life lead to a sweetheart. Jane, having settled that her young mistress had gone on to meet a lover, next questioned who that lover could be, and here she was utterly puzzled. Sure enough Miss I^ve had been to a dance at the Cloberrys', but whom she had met there, and to whom lost her heart, that Jane did not know, and that also Jane was resolved to ascertain. She noiselessly nnhaspod the gate, and stole along the path. The burnished brazen sky of evening shone between the tree trunks, but the folinge had lost its verdure in the n^ ■ if POOR MARTIN iSr gatlicring tlu^k. Tlio lionoysuddp;^ poured forth tlicir scent in waves. Tlic air near tlio lu (1l,'o and deep into llic wood was honeyed with it. "White and yellow speckled currant moths were Hitting; ahout the hcdf:^o. Jano stole along, stealthily, from tree to tree, fearful lest Eve should turn and catch her spyinpf. A lar'j:e Scotch pine cast a shadow under it like ink. On roaehing that, Jane knew she could sec the top of the llaYcn llock. As she thus advanced on tip-toe she heard a rustling, as of a hird in the tree overhead. Her heart stood still. Then, hefore she had time to recover herself, with a shrill laugh, a httle hlack figure came tumbling down before Iier out of the tree, capered, leaped at her, threw hi.s arms round her neck, and screamed into her face, 'Carry me I Carry me ! Carry me ! ' Then his arms relaxed, he dropped off, shrieking with laughter, and Jano fled, as fast as her limbs could bear her, back to tho gate, through the gate and away over the meadows to Morwell House. Eve had gone on to the platform of rock ; she stood there irresolute, hoping that the detested boy would woV appear, when she heard his laugh and shout, and the scream of Jane. She would have fainted with terror, hail not at that moment a tall man stepped up to her and laid his hand on her arm. 'Do not be afraid, sweet fairy Eve ! It is I — your poor slave IMartin, — perfectly bewitched, drawn back by those loadstone eyes. Do not be frightened, Watt is merely giving a scare to the inquisitive ser'.ant.' Eve was trembling violently. This was worse than meeting the ape of a boy. She had committed a gross indiscretion. What would JJarbara say? — her father, if he heard of it, how vexed he would be ! 'I must go back,' she said, with a feeble effort at dignit}-. 'This is too bad; I have been deceived.' Then she gave way to weakness, and burst into tears. 'No,' he said carelessly, 'you shall not go. I will not suffer you to escape now that I have a chance of seeing I'Sr- i ^\ (j; !! ^> «>. A^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ij. {./ ^/.^ %^ ik. 1.0 I.I 1.25 ViK» |25 I ^ Ilia 14 III 1.6 V] ^^' /. C' / /A w Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) S73-4S03 W.n ^ % I . 1 82 EVE you aiul spcaldng uiUi you. To begin at tlio bc!;dnnmg— I lovo you. There! you aro all of a tienr^lo. Sit down and listen to \vliat I liavc to say. You Avill not".* ^V^11, consider. I run terrible risks by being here; I may say that I place my life in your delicate hands.' She looked up at him, still too frightened to speak, even to comprehend his "words. 'I do not know you!' she whispered, when she was able to gather together the poor rennumts of her strength. 'You remember me. I have your ring, and vou have mine. Wc are, in a manner, bound to each other. iJo patient, dear love ; listen to me. I will tell you all my story.' He saw that she was in no condition to bo pressed. If lie spoke of love she would m:iko a desperate effort to escape. Weak and giddy though slic was, she would not endure that from a man of whom she knew nothing, lie saw that. He knew he nuist give her time to recover from her alarm, so he said, ' 1 wish, most beautiful fairy, you Avould rest a few minutes on this piece of rock. I am a poor, hunted, suifering, misinterpreted wretch, and Icomii to tell you my story, only to entreiit your sympatliy and your prayers. I will not say a rude word, 1 will not lay a finger on you. All I ask is : listen to me. That cannot hurt you. I aiii a beggar, a beggar v.'hining at your feet, not asking for more alms than a tear of pit v. Give me that, that oidy, and I go away relieved.' She seemed somewhat reassured, and drew a long breath * I had a sister of your n;wae.' She raised her heal, and looked at him with surprise. * It is an uncommon name. Isly poor sister is gone. I suppose it is your name that has attracted mo to you, that induces me to open my heart to you. I mean to confide to you my troubles. Y'ou say that you do not know mo. I will tell you all my story, and then, sweet Kve, vou will indeed know me, and, knowing mo, v/ill rOOi: MARTIN 1S3 Bliowcr tears of precious pity, that will infinitely console me.' She wa.s still treniblint,', but flattered, and relieved tliat he asked for notliini,' save sympatliy. That of course she was at liberty to bestow o\\ a desorvin'' obi(>('t. Shu was wholly inexperienced, easily deceived by llatteiy. 'Ilavo I fri<_rlitened vou ? * asked Martin. 'Am I so dreadful, so unsiLflitly an object as to inspire you vv-jtli aversion and terror '? ' lie drew himself up and ])aused. ]\ve hastily looked at him. lie was a strikinpjly handsonu; man, with dark bail", wondevfii) d;irlc (>yes, and iiiiely chiselled features. ' I said that I put my life in your hands. I sjioko the truth. You liavo but to betray me, and the police and the parish constables will como in a jjo.s.sc after me. I will .stand hero with folded arms to receive them; but marie my words, as soon as they set foot on this rock, I will iling myself over tho edge and perish. If yon sacrilico mc, my life is not worth saving.' 'I will not betray you,' faltered Eve. ' I know it. You are too noble, too true, too her;)ic to bo a traitress. I knew it when I came here and placed myself at your mercy.' ' ])ut,' said Eve timidly, 'what have you done? You have taken my ring. Give it back to me, and 1 will not send tho constables after you.' ' You have mine.' * I will return it.' 'About that hereafter,' said Martin grandly, and ho waved his Innid. 'Now I answir your (piestion, ^\'hat have I done? I will tell you everything. It is a long story and a sad one. Certain persons como out badly in it whom I would spare. Lut it may not be otherwise. Si'lf- defencc is the lirst law of nature. You have, no doubt, heard a good deal about mo, and not to my advantage. I have been prejudiced in your eyes by Jasper. lie is narrow, does not make allowances, has never recovered the strait- 184 r.vE l.icinf'fiitlior j^ave liim as a cliild. Ilis coiiBciencc lias not exiiaudcd since inf; mcy, Eve looked at Martin with astonishment. ' ^Ir. Jasper IJabb has not said anything — ' * Oh, there ! ' interrupted Martin, ' you may spare your sweet hps the fib. I know better thaji that. Ilegrumbk'S and nnnnbles about me to everyone "who will open an eiir to his tales. If he were not my brothcr- Now l''.ve interrupted him. 'Mr. Jasper your brother ' Of course lie is. J)id h(! not tell vou so?' lie sa I • w that she had not known by the exprission of her face, ro, with a laugh, he said, 'Oh dear, no! Of course Jasper was too grand and sanctimonious a man to confess to the blot in the family. I am that blot — look at me ! ' He sliowed his handsome figure and face by a theatrical gesture and position. ' Poor Martin is the blot, to which .hisper will not confess, and yet — Martin survives this neglect and disrespect.' The overweening vanity, the mock humility, the assu- rance of the man passed unn(>ticed by Eve. She breiiUK-k but in money. l\)V my part,' said IMai'tin, folding his arms, ' it has ever stru<'k me that the Prodigal Son was far the nobler of the brotlur-. The eldest was a mean fellow, the second had his faults— L admit it — but he was a nun. of independence of action ; he woidd not stand being bullyrngged by his father, so \\v went away. I got into dilliculties over that nuitter. My father would not overlook it, made a fuss, and so on. 'My doctrine is : Let bygones be bygiiu's, and aci'e])t what comes and don't kick. That my father could not see, and yo I got locked up.' ' Locked up — where '? ' 'In a pill-box. I managed, however, to escape; I am at large, and at your feet -entreating you to pity me.' lie suited the action to the word. In a moment he was gracefully kneelhig before her on one knee, with his hand on his heart. ' Oh, ]Miss Eve,' he said, ' since I saw your face in the moonlight I have never forgotten it. Wherever I went it haunted me. I saw these great beautiful eyes looking timidly into mine ; by day they e(li[)sed the sini. What- everl did I thought only of you. And now — what is it that 1 ackof you? Nothing but forgiveness. The money — the portion of goods that fell to me — was yours. My father owed it to you. It was intended for you. Lul now, hear ?i I I.% r.vE i luc, you noble, f,'cncrous-s])irit((l ^\x\ ; I havo borrowcil tlio iiioii'y, it sliuU be rotunicd — or its equivalent. If you de- Birc it, I will swear.' llostoodup and as'^umed an attitude. ' Oh, no ! ' said Kve ; ' vou bad niv nionev?' * As surely as I bad your rini,'.' ' ViWcXx in the same way,' she said, with a little sharp- ness. ']>ut I :-hall return one with tlie other. Trust me. Stand up ; luok niu in tlu; face. JJo I bear the appearance cf a cheat, a thief, a robber '.' Am I base, villanous ! Mo, 1 am nothin,i; but a poor, foolish, prodi.iral lad, who has c^ot into a scrap(>, but 'vill i^'etoutof it a,^^:un. You for,e;ive me. Hark ! I hear someone eallinc,^' ' It is ] Barbara. She is lookin;:,' for me.' ' Then I disappear.' lie put his hand to his lips, •wafted her a kiss, whispered ' ^Vheu you look at the rin,'^% rememl)er poor — poor ]\Lartin,' and he slipped away among the bushes. CIIAPTEll XXVIII. FATIIEU AND HON. Laebaea was mistaken. Jasper had !:!:one to Buckfastleic;Ii, L!;one openly to his fatlier's house, in the belief that his father was dyin,L,^ ]le knocked at the blotched and scaled door muler the dilapidated ])()rtico, but received no answer, lie tried the door. It was locked and barred. Then ho went round to the back, noliii;j," howunlidy llie ,L,^arden was, how out of repairs, as the house ; and in tlie yard of the kitchen he foinid ihu deaf housekeeper. His lirst question, shouted into her ear, naturally was an inquiry after his father, lie learned to his surprise that the old man was not ill, but was then in the factory. Thinking that his question had been misunderstood, ho entered the house, went into his father's study, then up to his bedroom, and FATHER AXD SOX 187 tlirou.uli tlio dirty wiiulow-piincs saw the old man leaving tlic ]iiill oil his way l)ack to the house. ^\ hat, then, had Watt meant by sendin.i,' him to the old lioine on false tidini^^s ',' Tlu! hoy was indeed mischie- vous, but this was more than connnun iiiisehief. lie mast have sent him on a fool's en-and for some purpose of hi.s own. That the hoy waiit<'d to hear news of his father was ])ossible, hut not prohahle. The only other alternative Jasper could suggest to explain Watt's conduct was the dis(i(iicting one that he wanted to he rid of Jasper from Morwell for some purpose of his own. What could that purpose he '? Jasper's hlood coursed hot through his veins, lie was angry, lie was a forboariiig man, ready always to find an excuse for a transgressor, hut this was a transgression too malicious to bo easily forgiven. Jasper dGtcrmin,,d, now that he Avas at home, to sec his father, and then to return to the Jordans as quickly as he could. lie had ridden his own horse, that horse must have a night's rest, hut to- morrow he would return. lie was thus musing when Mr. Labh came in. * You here! ' said the old man. ' What has brought you to Buckfastleigh again '? Want money, of course.' Then snappishly, ' You shan't get it.' ' I am come,' said his son, ' because I had received in- formation that you were ill. Have you been imweli, hulier?' 'I — no! I'm never ill. No sucli luck for you. If I were ill nnd helpless, you might take the manngo- ment, you think. If I were dead, that would be mits to \ou.' ' My father, you wrong mo. I left you because I would no longer live this wretched life, and because I hate your unforgiving temper.' * Unforgiving ! ' sneered the old manufacturer. ' ]\Iartin v,-as a thief, and he deserved his fate. Is not Ih'utus ap- plauded l)ccause ho condcmnvd his ovrn son? Is not iSJ E]'K David held to be week because ho bade Joab spare Absa- loin ? ' ' Wo will not squeeze old crushed apples. No juice ■will run from them,' replied Jasper. 'The thin^,' wa^ done, and mi,L,'ht have been fort^'ivon. I -would not have returned now had I not l)een told that you were dylns;.' ' Who told you that \ui ? ' ' Walter.' ' JIo! lie was ever a liar, a inocker, a blasphemer! ][()W was he to know "? I thank heaven he has nut shown liis jackanapes visage iiere since he left. I (lying ! I never was sounder. I am better in health and spirits since I am (]uit of my sons. They vexed my righteous soul everyday with their ungodly deeds. So you supposed I was dying, and came here to sec what meat could be picked off your father":- bones? ' Jasper remembered Watt's sneer. It was clear whence the boy had gathered his mean views of men's motives. ' I'll trouble you to return whence you came,' said Kzekiel Babb. 'Xo blessing has rested on mo since 1 brought the strange blood into the house. Now that :ill of you arc gone — you, l-lve number one, and Eve nunibii- two, ]\[artin aiul ^\'aUer — I am well. The Son of Peaci' has returned to this house ; I can read my Bible and do my accounts in quiet, without fears of what new bit of mis- chief or devilry my cliildren have been up to, without any more sipieaking of fiddles and singing of profane songs all over the house. Come now!' — the old man raised his bushy brows and ilashed a cunning, menacing glance at liis son — ' come now ! if you had found mo dead — in Abraham's bosom — what would you have done ? I know what Walter would have done : he would have capered up and down all over the house, fiddling like a devil, like a devil as ho is.' lie looked at Jaspev again, in- (piisitively. Well, what would you have done .' -fiddled too ? ' ' ^ly father, as you desire to know, I will tell you. I FATHER AXD SO.V iS ) juico ■was t liave would at once have realised Avliat F could, and have dcareil oil" the debt to Mr. Jordan.' ' Well, you may do tliat ^vllen the day eun;:s,' said the old nianul'aeturor, shrn^'i^dn,^' his shoulders. ' Jt is nothing,' to nic! ^vhat vou do with the mill and the house and the land after I am ' — ho turned up his eyes to the dirty ceil- ing — 'whore the wiekcd ccaso from liddlini,' and no tliiive.-; break in and steal. I am not f^oinj^' to pay the money twice over. ^ly obli^'ation ended when the money went out of this house. I did more than I was required. 1 chastised my own son for taking it. ^\'hat was seven years Dartn A ill Vndir the old law th ■bel- moor ' lious son was stoned till he died. I suppose, now, you aie Inmgry. Call the old crab ; kick her, pinch her, till she understands, and let her give you something to I'at. Therf are some scraps, I know, of veal-i)ie and cold potatoes. I ihiidv, by the way, the veal-pie is doiu'. J)ont foi'get to ask a blessing before you fall-to on the cold ])otatoes." Then ho rubbed his forehead and said, ' Stay, I'll go and rouse the old toad myself; you stay hero. You are the best of my children. All the rest were a bad lot — too nmch of the strange blood in them.' Whilst Mr. ]5abb is rousing his old housekeeper to pro- duce some food, we will sav a few words of the pasthistorv of the 13abb family. Evo the first, ^Ir. Jlabb's wife, had led a miserable lift;. She did not run awav from him: sshe remained and i)oured forth the iiery love of her heart upon her children, espe- cially on her oldest, a daughter, I'.vo, to whom she tilked of her old life — its freedom, its happiness, its attractions. She died of a broken spirit on the birth of her third son, Walter. Then Evo, the eldest, a beautiful girl, unable to endure the bad temper of her father, the depressing atmo- sphere of the liou.;?, and tlio cares of housekeeping imposed on lier, ran away after a travelling band of actors. Jasper, tlio eldest son, grow up to be grave and resigned. lie was of use in the house, managing it as far as he was ' n i i\ IQO FA'R 'f allowed, find ]icli)In,^' his f;ifli( r in many ways. Pait llm old man, ^vllo liad ^auniblod ut and insulted liis ^vi(■o^vllil^t f-lio Avas alive, conld not keep liis toni^nio from tlio siiiiject. that still rankled in Jiin lieart. This oceasioned quarrels; th(! boy took his mother's side, and refused to Ik ar hi ; father's f/ihes at her memory, llo was passionately at- taclied to liis next brother I^Tartin. ''.Fho mother h:',d l)ronj,'ht a warm, lovin,t,' spirit into the family, and .lar:p( ;• luid inherited miieh of it. llo stood as a siiccn betwi i ii his brother and father, wardin,!^' oft' from tlu; former many a blov,' and an,L:i'y reprimand, lie did ]\Iarlin's school tasks for him ; he; excused his faults ; ho admired him f^ir liis beauty, his spirit, his bearing', his lively talk'. Tluii' was no lad, in his opinion, who could equal ]\Iai'tin ; A\;itt was ri,L,dit when he said that Jasper had contributed to his ruin by humouring him, but Jaspd* hnmoure(l him be- causi; ho loved him, and pitied him for the uncoiii^v'niality of liis homo. ]\[artin dis])layed a talent for m isic, and there was an old musician at Ashburton, the organist of the parish church, who developed and cultivated his talent, and taught him both to play and sing. Jasper had also an instinctive love of music, and ho also learned the violin and surpassed his brother, who had not the patience to master the first diftlcultics, and who preferred to sing. The father, perhaps, saw in Martin a recrudescence of the old proclivities of his mother ; he tried hard to inter- fero with his visits to tho musician, and only made ]\Iartin more set on his studies with him. Ihit the most implaca- ble, incessant state of war was that which raged betwoin the old father and his youngest son, A\'alter, or Watt as liis brothers called him. This boy had no reverence in him. IIo scouted tho authority of his father and of Jasper. Ho scofted at everything the old man held sacred. lie ab- solutely refused to go to tho Bantist Cha]iel frequented by his father, ho stopped his cars and made grimaces at his brothers and the servants during family worship, and tho devotions worj not unfrcqucntly concluded with a rush of r.iTn/:R jxn :,o.\ V)\ tlio old man at lii.s youn^n's; son ant] llie ailiiuni^Li'.itlon i;t' resound in, '4 clouts on llic cnis. Al l;ist a qnavii I Itouc out oi'twccn tlicni of so fierce a nature that Watt v»as cxptUc'l tlic liou. >. 'riicn Martin left to follow Watt, "vvlio liml joined a tra\ lliii'_,' dranuitie 'onipany, Afl I v a ^•t ;ir, JinwcVfr :\rart in ri lunicd, vcrv thin an litro Ix'ciuisc slic! was curious to soo the factory ami llic lioiise, and to l^iiow if all was as ,uood as you Ii;id lira;.rL,'('d ahout. I .Lrave her a curt dismissal ; I do not want, a dauLjhter-iii-law thrusting her feet into my shoes till 1 cast them oil' for evei'.' .laspcr started to his feet and upset his chair, lie was verv amrrv. 'You utterly wrong lier,' ho said. * You ojien your eyes in nnid, and see only dirt. Miss Jordan came here out of kindness towards me, whom she dislikis and despises in her heart.' :\[r. J'>ahl) chuclde;!. ' W( 11, T won't f^'ay that you have not acted wisely, ^lorwell will go to that gii'l, and it is a pretty i)ro])erty.' 'I heg your pardon, you are wrong. It is left to the SeCf)nd — I'lve.' 'So, s;)! It goes (o l-'.ve ! That is why the elder girl came here, to see if she could lit herself into Owla- cond)e.' Jasper's face burnt, and the muscles of his head and neclc ([uivered, but lu^ said nothing, lie dared not trust himself to speak. \\v had all his life practised self-control, but he never needed it more than at this moment. ' I see it all,' pursued the old man, his crafty face con- tracting with a grin; ' ]Mr. Jordan thought to provide for i)oth his daughters. lUickfast mill and Owlacombe for the elder, ]\Iorwell for the younger — ha, ha ! The elder to take you so as to get this pretty place. And she came to look at it and see if it suited her. Well ! It is a pretty place • — onlv,' he Lngulod, ' it ain't vacant and to be had just vet.' Jasper took his hat ; his face was red as blood, and hi.s dark eyes flashed. 'Don't go,' said tlio old manufacturer; 'you did not see their little trap and walked into it, eh ? One word of FATHER AM) SOX to.) warnin<7 I must f,'ive you. Doiit niu ;if;( r llio yoini^^'cr ; Evo i?^ voiir niece.' • Fiillior ! ' •Ah! tliiit surplices you, does it? It ij^ triio. I'vc's mother wiis yoiu' siitcr. Did Mr. Jordiui never tell you that ? • • Never ! ' • It is tru3. Sit down iit^'iiin to tlie cold potatoes. You sliall know all, but first ask a blessin''.' CIIAPTEn XXIX. IlL•sIl-^ro^•I•:v. ' Yes,' said Mr. Babb, settling: himself on a chair ; then Hnding he had sat on the tails of liis coat, he rose, held a tail in each hand, and reseated himself between them ; •yes.' ' Do you mean seriously to tell me th;t< Mr. Jordan's second wife was my sister ? ' * Well — in a way. That is, I don't mean your sister in a way, but liis wife in a way.' ' I have heard nothing of this ; what do you mean ? ' ' I mean that he did not marry her.' Jasper Babb's face darkened. ' I have been in his house and spoken to him, and not known that. What he- came of my sister ? ' The old man fidgeted on his chair. It was not com- fortable. * I'm sure I don't know,' he said. ♦ Did she die ? ' * No,' said Mr. Babb, ' she ran off with a play-actor.' • Well— and after that ? ' • After what? After the play-actor ? I do not know, I have not heard of her since. I don't want to. Was not that enough ? ' * And Mr. Jordan — does he know nothing ? ' 194 EVE ,. I iill J' *I cannot tell. If you are curious to know you can asl:,* ' This is very extraordinary. Why did not ]\[r. Jordan tell mo the relationship ? lie knew who I was.' The old man lau^i,died, and Jasper shuddered at his laugh, there was sonietliing so hase and brutal in it. ' IIo "was not so proud of how lie brliavcd to l^ve as to care to boast of tlie connection. You might not have lilud it, miglit have fi/zed and gone pop.' Jasper's brow was on lire, his eyebrows met, and a sombre sparkle Avas in liis eye. ' You have made no cH'ort to trace her? ' Mr. r>abb shrugged his shoulders. * Tell me,' said Jasper, leaning liis elbow on the table, and putting his liand over his eyes to screen them from the light, and allow him to watch his father's face — ' tell me everything, as you undertoolv. Tell me how my poor sister came to Morwell, and how she left it.' ' There is not nmch io tell,' answeied the father ; ' you know that she ran away from home after her mother's death; vou were then nine or ton vears old. She hated work, and lusted after the pomps and vanities of thi^ wicked world. After a while I heard where she was, that she was ill, and had been taken into ^Morwell House to be nursed, and that there she remained after her recovery.' ' Strange,' nuised Jasper; ' she fell ill and was taken to ^[orwell, and 1— it was the same. Things repeat them- selves; the world moves in a circle.' ' Everything repeats itself. As in Eve's case the sick- ness led up to marriage, or something like it, so will it be in your case. This is what ]\lr. Jordan and Eve did : they went into the little old chapel, and took each other's hands before the altar, and swore iidel'ty to each other ; that was all. Mr. Jordan is a Catholic, and would not have the knot tied by a church parson, and Eve would not confess to her name, she had that sense of decency left in her. They satisfied their consciences, but it was no legal mar- IIUSII-MOXEY 195 . 1 sifk- t bo they ands t "was tho her. mar- riage. I bdiovc he ■would have done what wa?; ri::];ht. hut fihe way perverse, and refused to give lier name, and say both who she was and whence she came.' ' Go on,' said Jasper. ' "Well, then, about a year after this I heard wliero she was, and I went after hor to ]\Iorwell, but I did not t,'o opeidy — I had no wish to oneountcr Mr. Jordan. I tried to persuade Eve to return witli nie to Ihiekfastleigh. \Vho can lay to my charge tliat I am not a forgiving fatlier ? Have I not given you cold potato, and would have furnished you with veal pie if the old woman had not iinislu d tho scraps '? I saw Eve, and I told her my mind pretty freely, both about her running away and about her connection with Jordan. I will say this for her — she professed to be sorry for what she had done, and desired my forgiveness. That, I said, I would give her on one condition only, that she forsook her husband and child, and came back to keep house for me. I cotdd not bring her to a decision, so 1 appointed her a day, and said I would take her final answer on that. But I was hindered going ; I forget just now what it was, but I couldn't go that day.' * Well, father, what happened ? ' * As I could not keep my appointment — I remember now how it was, I was laid up with a grip of lumbago at Tavistock — I sent one of tho actors there, from whom I had heard about her, witli a message. I had the lumbago m my back that badly that I was bent double. When I was able to go, on tho morrow, it was too late ; she was gone.' ' Gone ! Whither ? ' * Gone oil with the play-actor,' answered ^tr. Labb, grimly. ' It runs in the bloud.' ' You are sure of this '? ' 'Mr. Jordan told mo so.' * Did you not pur>jue her ? ' * To what end '? I had done my duty. I had tried my utmost to recover my daughter, and when for the second lliij 196 £VE il*' ! V .1 time she played me false, I ^viped off tlie dust of my feetag a testimony against her.' • She left her child ? ' ' Yes, she deserted her child as well as her liusband — that is to say, Mr. Ignatius Jordan, bhc deserted the house that had sheltered her, to run after a homeless, bespangled, V.epainted play-actor. I know all about it. The life at ^lorwell was too dull for her, it was duller there than at Buckfastleigh. Here she could see something of the world; she could watch the factory hands coming to their work and leaving it; but there she was :is much out of the world as if she were in Lundy Isle. She hud a hankering after the glitter and paint of this empty world.' 'I cannot believe this. I cannot believe that she would desert the man who befriended her, and forsake her child.' • You say that because you did not knovv her. You know Martm ; would he not do it ? You know Watt ; has lie any scruples and strong domestic affections? She was like them ; had in her veins the same boiling, giddy, wanton blood.' Jasper knew but too well that Martin and Watt were unscrupulous, and followed pleasure regardless of the calls of duty. He liad been too young when his sister left home to know anything of her character. It was possible that she had the same light and careless temperament as Martin. 'A horse that sliies once will shy again,' said the old man. ' Eve ran away from home once, and she ran away from the second home. If she did not run away from home a third time it probably was that she had none to desert.' • And Mr. Jordan knows nothing of her ? ' ' lie lives too far from the stream of life to see tlio broken dead things that drift down it.' Jasper considered. The flush of anger had faded from liis brow ; an expression of great sadness had succeeded. IIUSH-MOXE Y 197 His hand was over his broNV, but ho was no longer intent on his father's face ; his eyes rested on the table. ' I must find out something about my sister. It is too iiorrible to think of our sistur, our only sister, as a lost, 3unk, degraded thing.' He thought of Mr. Jordan, of his strange manner, his abstracted look, his capricious temper. He did not believe that the master of Morwell was in his sound senses. He seemed to be a man whose mind had preyed on some great sorrow till all nerve had gone out of it. What was that sorrow ■? Once ] Barbara had said to him, in excuse for some violence and rudeness in her father's conduct, that he had never got over the loss of Eve's mother. ' ^Ir. Jordan was not easy about his treatment of my daughter,' said old Babb. ' From what little I saw of him seventeen years ago I take him to be a weak-spirited man. He was in a sad take-on then at the loss of Eve, and having a baby thrown on his hands unweaned. Ho offered me the money I wanted to buy those iields for stretching the cloth. You may be sure when a man presses money on you, and is indifferent to interest, that he wants you to forgive him something. He desired me to look over his conduct to my daughter, and drop all inquiries. I dare say they had had words, and then sh*^ was ready in her passion to run away with the first vagabond who offered.' Then Jasper removed his hand from his face, and laid one on the other upon the table. His face was now pale, and the muscles set. His eyes looked steadily and sternly at the mean old man, who averted his eyes from those of his son. ' What is this ? You took a bribe, father, to let the affair remain unsifted! For the sake of a few acres of meadow you sacriliced your child ! ' 'Fiddlesticks-ends,' said the manufacturer. *I sacri- ficed nothing. What could I do ? If I ran after Eve and found her in some harlequin and columbine booth, could I force her to return ? She had made her bed, and must ^■ 198 EV£ W li ?n « „, lie on it. What could I gain by stirring in the matter ? Let sleeping dogs lie.' ' Father,' said Jasper, very gravely, ' the fact remains that you took money that looks to me very much like a bribe to shut your eyes.' ' Pshaw ! pshaw ! I had made up my mind. I was full of anger against Eve. I would not have taken her into my house had I met her. Fine scandals I should have had with her there ! Better let her run and dis- appear in the mud, than come muddy into my parlour and besmirch all the furniture and me with it, and perhaps damage the business. These children of mine have eaten sour grapes, and the parent's teeth are set on edge. It all comes ' — the old man brought his fist down on the table — ' of my accursed folly in bringing strange blood into the house, and now the chastisement is on me. Are you come back to live with me, Jasper ? Will you help me again in the mill ? ' * Never again, father, never,' answered the young man, standing up. 'Never, after what I have just heard. I shall do what I can to find my poor sister, Eve Jordan's mother. It is a duty — a duty your neglect has left to me ; a duty hard to take up after it has been laid aside for seventeen years ; a duty betrayed for a sum of money.' ' Pshaw ! ' The old man pat his hands in his pockets, and walked about the room. Ho was shrunk with age ; his eagle profile was without beauty or dignity. Jasper followed him with his eye, reproachfully, sor- rowfully. ' Father,' he said, ' it seems to mo as if that money was hush-money, and that you, by taking it, had brought the blood of your child on your own head.' ' Blood ! Fiddlesticks ! Blood ! There is no blood in the case. If she chose to run, how was I to stop her ? Blood, indeed I Red raddle I ' JJETRA YAL J99 ciiArTER xxx:. r.ETIlAYAL. sor- Barbara camo out on the platform of rock. Kvo stood before licr trembling, wi'li downcast eyes, conscious of having done wrong, and of being put in a position from which it was diflicult to escape. Barbara liad walked fast. She was hot and excited, and her temper was roused. ISlic loved Eve dearly, but Eve tried her. ' Eve,' she said sharply, ' what is the meaning of this ? Who has been hero with you ? ' The young girl hung her head. ' What is the meaning of this ? ' she repeated, and her tone of voice showed her irritation. Barbara had a temper. Eve murmured an inarticulate reply. ' What is it ? I cannot understand. Jane came tear- ing home with a rhodomontade about a boy jumping down on her from a tree, and I saw him just now at the gate making faces at me. He put his Ihigers into his mouth, hooted like an owl, and dived into the bushes. What is the meaning of this ? ' Eve burst into tears, and hid her face on her sister's neck. ' Come, come,' said Barbara, somewhat mollified, ' I must be told all. Your giddiness is leading you into a hobble. Who was that on tlie rock with you ? I caught a glimpse of a man as I passed the Scotch fir, and I thought the voice I heard was that of Jasper.' The girl still cried, cried out of confusion, because she did not know how to answer her sister. She must not tell the truth ; the secret had been confided to her. Poor Martin's safety must not be jeopardised by her. Barbara |! •\r iU 'ii ! I til i;f: I !00 EFE was so hot, impetuous, and frank, that she might let out about liim, and so he might be arrested. What was she to say and do ? ' Come back with me,' said Barbara, drawing her sister's hand through her arm. * Now, then, Eve, there iimst be no secrets with me. You have no mother ; I stand to you in the place of mother and sister in one. Was that Jasper ? ' Eve's hand quivered on her sister's arm ; in a faint voice she answered, ' Yes, Barbara.' Had Miss Jordan looked round she would have seen her sister's face crimson with shame. But Barbara turned her eyes away to the far-off pearly range of Cornish mountains, sighed, and said nothing. The two girls walked together through the wood without speaking till they came to the gate, and there they entered the atmosphere of honeysuckle frag- rance. ' Perhaps that boy thought he would scare me as he scared Jane,' said Barbara. ' He was mistaken. Who was he ? ' ' Jasper's brother,' answered Eve in a low tone. She was full of sorrow and humiliation at having told Barbara an untruth, her poor little soul was tossed with conflicting emotions, and Barbara felt her emotion througli the little hand resting on her arm. Eve had joined her hands, so that as she walked she was completely linked to her dear elder sister. Presently Eve said timidly, ' Bab, darling, it was not Mr. Jasper.' ' Who was the man then ? ' * I cannot, I must not, tell.' * That will do,' said Barbara decidedly ; * say no more about it. Eve ; I know that you met Jasper Babb and no one else.' * Well,' whispered Eve, * don't be cross with me. I did not know he was there. I had no idea.' BETRAYAL 201 the and so 'It wa^ Mr. r»iibb ? ' asked J>avbam, suddenly turning and looking steadily at her. Here was an opportunity offered a poor, weak creature. Kvc trembled, and after a moment's vacillation fell into the pitfall unconsciously dug lor her by her sister. ' It ■was j\Ir. ]>abb, dear liarbiira.' Miss Jordan said no more, her bosom was heaving. Perhaps she could not speak. She was angry, troubled, distracted ; angry at the gross imposition practised by Jasper in pretending to leave the place, whilst Ir.rking about it to hold secret meetings witli her sister ; troubled she was because sho feared that hive had connived at his proceedings, and had lost her heart to him — troubled also because she could not Lrll to what this would lead ; distracted she was, because she did not know what steps to take. Before she reached home she had made up her mind, and on reachiiig Morwcll she acted on it with promptitude, leaving 1:1 ve to go to her room or stay below as suited her best. She went direct to her father. He waF sitting up, looking worse and distressed ; his pale foreliead was beaded with perspiration ; his shaking hand cluiched the table, then relaxed its hold, then clutched again. ' Are you feeling worse, papa '? ' ' No,' ho answered, without looking at her, but with his dazed eyes directed through the window. ' Xo — only for black thoughts. They come Hying to me. If you stand at evening under a great rock, as soon as the sun sets you see from all quarters the ruM'Us Hying towards it, uttering doleful cries, and they enter into the clefts and disappear for the night. The whole rock all night is alive with ravens. So is it with me. As my day declines the sor- rows and black thoughts come back to lodge in me, and torment me with their clawing and pecking and croaking. There is no driving them away. They come back.' • Dear papa,' said Barbara, ' I am afraid I must add to them. I have something very unpleasant to communicate,' f^ 202 r.vE ! J ' I .supp6sc,* said ^Ir. Jordan peevishly, * you arc out of L'ofTee, or the lemons are mouldy, or the sheets have been torn on the thorn hed.t^'e. These matters do not trouble me.* lie si^^ned with liis fin,c:jer. ' They are like black spots in the air, but instead of lloating they lly, and they all ily one way — towards me.' ' Father, 1 am afraid for F.ve ! ' ' ^Vhat '? • llis face was full of terror. * ^Vhat of her ? What is there to fear ? Is slie ill ? ' * It is, dearest papa, as I foresaw. She has set her heart on Mr. Jasper, and she meets him secretly, lie asked leave of you yesterday to ,i,'() home to Ihickfastleigh ; but ho has not gone there. lie has not left this neigh- bourhood, lie is secreting himself somewhere, and this evening ho met darling Kve on tlie Ihiven liock, when he knew you Avero here ill, and 1 was in the house with you.' * I cannot believe it,' said Mr. Jordan, with every token of distress, wiping his wet brow with his tl'in hands, clasp- ing his hands, plucking at his waistcoat, biting his quiver- ing lips. * It is true, dearest papa. Eve too'v Jane with her as far as the gate, and there an ugly boy, who. Eve tells me, is Jasper's brother, scared the girl away. I hurried off to the Hock as soon as told of tliis; and I saw through an opening of the trees someone witli Eve, and heard a voice like that of j\Ir. Jasper, ^\'hen 1 cl. u-ged Eve with having met him, she could not deny it.' ' What does he want '.* ^Vhy did he ask to leave ? ' * I can put but one interpretation on his conduct. I have for some time suspected a growing attachment be- tween him and Eve. I suppose he knows that you never would consent ' ' Never, never ! ' He clenched his hands, raised them over his head, uttered a cry, and dropped them. ' Do be careful, dear papa,' said Barbara. * You forget your wound ; you must not raise youv right arm.' * It cannot be 1 It cannot be ! Never, never ! ' He lUlTRAVAL 203 He was intensely moved, and paid no liccd to his daughter's caution. She caught his riglit hand, held it between her own fn-mly, and kissed it. ' My God ! ' cried tlio unhappy man. ' Spare mo this ! It cannot be ! Tl 10 black spots como thick as rain.' IJe waved his left liand as though warding oil" something. ' >;ot as rain — as bullets.' * No, papa, as you say, it never, never can be.' 'Never ! ' he said eagerly, Jiis wild eyes kindling with a lambent terror. ' There ocands helwciii th( 111 a barrier that must cut them oil' the one from the other lor ever. But of that you know nothing.' ' It is so,' said JJarbara ; ' there docs stand an impass- able barrier between them. I know more than you sup- pose, dear papa. Knowing what 1 do 1 have wondered at your permitting his presence in this house.' ' You know ? ' He looked at her, and pressed his broW' * And Eve, does she know ? ' 'She knows nothing,' answered Larbiiva; 'I alone — that is, you and I together — alone know all about him. I found out when ho iirst came here, and was ill.' ' From anything he said ? ' * No — I found a bundle of his clothes.' ' I do not understand.' * It came about this way. There was a roll on the saddle of his horse, and when I came to undo it, that I might put it away, I found that it was a convict suit.' Mr. Jordan stared. * Yes ! ' continued Barbara, speaking quickly, anxious to get the miserable tale told. ' Yes, papa, I found the garments which betrayed him. When he came to himself I showed them to him, and aslvcd if they were his. Afterwards I heard all the particulars : how he had robbed his own father of the money laid by to repay you an old loan, how his father had prosecuted him, and how he had been sent to prison ; how also he had escaped from prison. It was as he was flying to the Tamar to cross it, and get as far as he could from pursuit, that he met with his accident, and remained here.' f I \A 204 EVE 5- Ml' i \ 1 ' 1 ]f ■■■ r * ^lerclfiil heaven ! ' exchiimcil Mr. Jortlan ; ' you Itncw all this, and never told mo ! * ' I told no one,' answered Barbara, • because I promised him that I ■would not betray hi)>' and even now I would have said nothinj,' about it but iiiat you tell nie that yen l:now it as well as 1. No,' she added, after liavini,' drawn a long breath, ' no, not even after all the provocation he has given would I betray him.' Mr. Jordan looked as one duzed. ' AVliero then are these clothes — this convict suit ? ' * In the garret. I hid them there.' * Let me sec them. I cannot yet undcrstantl.* ]>arbara left tha room, and shortly returned with the bundle. She unfoldt'd it, and spread the garnuMits before her father, lie rrbbed his eyes, pressed his knuckles against his temples, and stared at them with astonish- nient. * So, then, it was he — Jaoper liabb — who stols Eve's money '? ' ' Yes, papa.' ' And ho was taken and locked up for doing 80— where ? ' * In Prince's Town prison.' * And ho escaped ? ' * Yes, papa. As I was on my way to Ashburton, I passed through Prince's Town, and thus heard of it.' * Barbara ! why did you keep this secret from me ? If I had known it, I would have run and taken the news myself to the police and the warders, and have had him recaptured whilst he was ill in bed, unable to escape.' It was now Barbara's turn to express surprise. 'But, dear papa, what do you mean? Y'ou have told me yourself that you knew all about Mr. Jasper.' ' I know nothing of this. My God ! How thick the black spots are, and how big and pointed ! ' ' Papa dear, what do you mean ? Y'ou assured me you knew everything,' BETRAYAL 205 • I knew nothing of this. I hiid not the least su.s- picion.' ' But, papa ' — Barbara was sick witli terror — ' you tolil me tliat tliis stood as a bar between him and J'lve '} ' ' No — Barbara. I said tliat there was a barrier, but not this. Of this I was ijj^norant.' The room swam round witli ]»arbara. She uttered a faint cry, and put the back of lier ck-nched haiuls ajjfainst her mouth t"> clioke anollier rising' cry. • I liavc betrayed him I ^ly God ! My God ! Wl)at have I dene ? ' CHAPTER XXXI. CALLKD TO ACCOUNT. • Go,' said Mr. Jordan, ' bring J-'.ve to me.' Barbara obeyed median ically. She had betrayed Jas- per. Her father would not spare him. The granite walla of Prince's Town prison rose before her, in the midst of a waste as bald as any in Greenland or Siberia. She called lier sister, bade her go into her father's room, and then, standing in the hall, placed her elbows on the window ledge, and rested her brow and eyes in her palms. She was consigning Jasper back to that miserable jail. She was incensed agahist him. She knew that he was un- worthy of her regard, that he had forfeited all right to her consideration, and yet— she ])itied him. She could not brhig herself ^;0 believe that he was utterly bad ; to send him again to prison was to ensure his complete ruin. * Eve,' said Mr. Jordan, when his youngest daughter came timidly into the room, ' tell me, whom did you meet on the Raven Rock ? ' The girl hung her head and made no reply. She stood as a culprit before a judge, conscious that his case is hope- less. 11 i »l \¥l 20') EVE •Eve,' lio said nguiii, ' 1 insist ou kuuwiiig. Whom did you meet ? ' Sho tried to apoak, but somctliiiif,' rose in licr tliroat, and c'liokcd her. Slio raised licr eyes timidly to lior father, who had never, hitherto, . noken an aii;,'ry word to lier. TcarM and entr(>aty werc( in her eyes, hut tlio room \s\va dark, m'^'lit liad fallen, and lu^ could not see her face. ' J'iVe, tell mo, was it r.ahh ? ' She hurst into a storm of sobs, and threw herself on her knees. 'O papa! sweetest, dearest paj)a ! J)o not ask me ! I nnist not tell. I promised him not to say. It is as nnich as his life is worili. lie says Ik; nev;'r will he taken alive. If it were l i.^. It is qui^o impossible for a man to see her and not love her. I do not niyselt know wliat love is, hut I have read al)out it, and I have fancied to mysi'lfwiuil it is — a kind of nuuhiess that eonie.s on one, and obsciu'cs tlie judt,nnent. I do not believe that Mr. .Jasper had any thought of Eve at ihst, but little by little slu; won him. You know, papa, how she has run after him, like a kitten ; and so she has stolen his heart out of his breast before he knew what she was about. Tlion, after tluit, everything — • honour, duty went. I dare say it is v(>ry hard foi* one who loves to think calmly and act conscientiously ! "Would you like the lights brought in, papa ? ' IIo shook his head. 'You must not remain up longer than you can bear,' she said. She took a seat on a stool, and leaned her head on her hand, her elbow resting on her knee. ' Papa, whilst I have been waiting in the hall, I have turned the whole matter over and over in my mind. Papa, I suppose that Eve's mother was very, very beautiful ? ' He sighed in the dark and put his hands together. Tho pale twilight through the window shone on them ; they were white and ghost-like. ' Papa dear, I suppose that you saw her when she was ill every day, and got to love her. I dare say you struggled against the feeling, but your heart was too strong for your head and carried your resolutions away, just as I have seen a flood on tho Tamar against tlie dam at Abbotswear ; it has burst through all obstructions, and in a moment every trace of the dam has disappeared. Y'ou were under the ' \ m 208 EVE same roof wltli her. Tlu'ii tlioro came a groat ache here* —she touclicd lior licart — ' allowin.L,' you no rest. Well, dear papa, I think it must have been so 'witli Mr. Babb. He saw our dear sweet Jwc dailv, and love for her swelled in liis heart; lu; formed the stron,G:est resolutions, and platted them with the tou.^h.est considerations, and stamped and wed;^'ed theni in with vif^orous eilbri, !;)ut all was of no avail — the flood rose and burst over it and carried all away.' ]\rr. Jordan was touched by the allusion to his dead or lost wife, but not in the manner Barbara intended. * I have heard,' continued Barbara, ' that Eve's mother was brou,u;lit to this house very ill, and that you cared for her till she was recovered. Was it in this room ? Was it in this bed"? ' She heard a low moan, and saw' the white hands raised iu deprecation, or in prayer. ' 'L'hen you sat here and watclied her ; and when she was in fever you suffered; when her breath came so faint that you thou,u:ht she was dying, your very soul stood on tiptoe, agonised. When her eyes opened with reason in them, your heart leajied. When she slept, you sat here with your eyes on her face and could not withdraw them. rerha])S you took her hand in the night, when she was vexed with horrible dreams, and the pulse of your heart sent it.i waves against her hot, tossing, troubled heart, and little by little cooled that fire, and brought peace to that mn'est. Tapa, I dare say that somehow thus it came about that I've got interested in ]\Ir. Jasper and grew to love him. I often let her take my place when ho was ill. You must excuse dearest hive. It was my fault. I should have been more cautious. lUit I thought nothing of it then. I knew nothing of how love i -i sown, and throws up its leaves, and spreads and tills the whole heart with a tangle of roots.' In this last half- hour Barbara had drawn nearer to her father than in all her previous life. For ouce she had CALLED TO ACCOUNT 209 enterud into his thouqlit.s, rousotl olJ rccollGctions, both sweet and bitter — inexpressibly swset, nnutterably bitter — and his heart was full of tears. ' Was Eve's mother as beautiful as our darlin:^ ? ' ' yes, Barbara ! ' Ilis voice shook, and he raised his white hands to cover his eyes. ' Even more beautiful.' ' And you loved her -with all your heart '? ' ' I have never ceased to love her. It is that, ]'arbara, wJiich ' — he put his hands to his head, and she understood him — ■which disturbed his bniin. 'J)ut,' he said, suddenly as wakinu^ from a dream, 'Pmrbarn, how do von know all this? Who told vou ' She did not answer him, but she rose, knelt on the stool, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him. Her cheeks were wet. ' You are cryin?, Barbara.' ' I am thinkini:,' of yoiu' sorrows, dear papa.' She was still kneelini^ on one knee, with her arms round her father. ' Poor papa ! I want to know really what became of Eve's mother.' The door was thrown open. 'Yes; that is what I have come to ask,' said Jasper, enterinjjf the room, holdintjf a wax. candle in cacli. hand, lie had intercepted the maid, .Iiiiu^, with the candles, taken them from her, and as she opened the door entered, to hear liarbara's question. The girl turned, dropped one arm, but chniL,' with the other to her father, who had just ]ilaced one of his hands on her head. Her eyes, from having been so long in the dark, were very large. She was pale, and her cheeks glistened with tears. She was too astonished to recover herself at once, dazzled by the strong light ; she could not see Jasper, but she knew his voice. He put the candlesticks — they were of silver — on the table, shut the door behind him, and standing before Mr. Jordan with bowed head, his earnest eyes fixed on the old 4 210 EVE if man's face, lie said again, ' Yes, that is what I have come to ask. Where is Eve's mother ? ' No one spoke. Barbara recovered herself first ; she rose from the stool, and stepped between her father and the steward. ' It is not you,' she said, * wJao have a nght to ask questions. It is we who have to call you to account.' ' For what, Miss Jordan ? ' IIo spoke to her witli deference — a certain tone of reverence which never left him when addressing her. ' You must give an account of yourself,' she said. *I am just returned from Buckfastleigh,' ho answered. ' And, pray, how is your father who was dying ? ' she asked, with a curl of her lip and a quiver of contempt in her voice. ' He is well,' replied Jasper, ' I was deceived about his sickness. He has not been ill. I was sent on a fool's errand.' ' Then,' said Mr. Jordan, wlio had recovered himself, ' what about the money ? ' ' The r(""'overy of that is as distant as ever, but also iis certain.' * Mr. Jasper Babb,' exclaimed Ignatius Jordan, ' you have not been to Buckfastleigh at all. You have not seen your father ; you have deceived me with ' Barbara liastily interrupted him, saying with beating heart, and with colour rising to her pale cheeks, ' I pray you, I pray you, say no more. We know very well that you have not left this neighbourhood.' ' I do not understand you, Miss Jordan. I am but just returned. My horse is not yet unsaddled.' * Not anotlicr word,' exclaimed the girl, with pain in her voice. * Not anotlier word if you wish us to retain a particle of regard for you. I liave pitied you, I have excused you but if you lie — I have said tlie word, I can- not withdraw it— I give you up.' Fire was in her heart, tears in her throar^ CALLED TO ACCOUXT 211 * I will speak,' said Jasper. ' I value yoar regard, Miss Jordan, above everything that the world contains. I cannot tamely lose that. There has been a misappre- hension. How it has arisen I do not know, but arisen it has, and dissipated it shall be. It is true, as I said, that I was deceived about my father's condition, wilfully, maliciously deceived. I rode yesterday to Buckfastleigh, and have but just returned. If my father had been dying vou would not have seen me here so soon.' ' Wo cannot listen to this. Wo cannot endure this,' cried ] Barbara. ' Will you madden me, after all that has been done for you? It is cruel, cruel!' Then, unable to control the flood of tears that rose to her eyes, she left die room and the glare of candles. Jasper approaclied ]\[r. Jordan. He had not lost his self-restruint. ' I do not comprehend this charge of false- hood brought against me. I can bring you a token that I liave seen my father, a token you will not dispute. He has told mo who your second wife was. Bhe was my sister. Will you do me the justice to say tliat you believe me?' ' Yes,' answered the old man, faintly. ' May I recall Miss Jordan ? I cannot endure that she should suppose me false.' ' If you will.' ' One word more. Do you wish our kinship to be known to her, or is it to bi; kept a secret, at least for a while ? ' ' Do not tell her.' Then Jasper went out into the hall. Barbara was there, in the window, looking out into the dusk through the dull old glass of the lattice. * Miss Jordan,' said he, * I have ventured to ask you to return to your father, and receive his assurance that I spoke the truth.' ' But,' exclaimed Barbara, turning roughly upon him, • you were on the Raven Bock with my sister at sunset, P 2 m 212 EVE mt' 'i . i )i. and Lad your brother planted at the gate to \Yatch agamst intruders.' ' ^ly brother ? ' 'Yes, a boy.' ' I do not understand you.' ' It is true. I saw hnn, I saw yon. Eve confessed it. What do you say to that ? ' Jasper bit his thumb. Barbara lauf,died bitterly. ' I know why you pretended to go away — because a policeman was here on Sunday, and you were afraid. Take care ! I have betrayed you. Your secret is known. You are not safe here.' 'Miss Jordan,' said the young man quietly, ' you are mistaken. I did not meet your sister. I \'ould not de- ceive you for all the world contains, I warn you that Miss Eve is menaced, and I was sent out of the way lest I should be here to protect her.' Barbara gave a little contemptuous gasp. • I cannot listen to you any longer,' she said angrily. ' Take my warning. Leave this place. It is no longer safe. I tell you — I, yes, I have betr lyed you.' ' I will not go,' said Jasper, ' I narc not. I have the interest of your family too near my heart to leave.' ' You will not go ! ' exclaimed Barbara, trembling with anger and scorn. * I neither believe you, nor trust you. I ' — she set her teeth and said through them, with her heart in her mouth — ' Jasper, I hate you ! ' CHAPTER XXXII. WANDERING LIGHTS. No sooner was Mr. Jordan left alone than his face became ghastly, and his eyes were fixed with terror, as though he saw before him some object of infinite horror, He put his WANDERING LIGHTS 21 .luivering thin hands on the elbows of his armchair and let himself slide to his knees, then he raised his hollow eyes to heaven, and clasped his hands and wrung them ; his lips moved, but no vocal prayers issued from them. He lifted his hands above his head, uttered a cry and fell forward on his face upon the oak floor. Near his liaiul was his stick with which he rapped against the wall or on the floor when he needed assistance. lie laid hold of this, and tried to raise himself, but faintncss came ovur hnu, and he fell again and lost all consciousness. When he rec-vered sufficiently to see what and who were about him, he found that he had been lifted on to his bed by Jasper and Barbara, and that Jane was in tlie room. His motion with his hands, his strain to raise himself, had disturbed the bandages and reopened his wound, which was again bleeding, and indeed had soaked through his clothes and stained the floor. He said nothing, but his eyes watched and followed Jasper with a mixture of hatred and fear in them. * He irritates me,' lie whispered to his daughter ; ' send him out. I cannot endure to see him.' Then Barbara made an excuse for dismissing Jasper. When he was gone, Mr. Jordan's anxiety instead of being allayed was increased. He touched his daughter, and drew her ear to him, and whispered, ' Wliere is he now ? What is he doing ? ' ' I do not know, papa. He is probably in his room.' * Go and see.' * Papa dear, I cannot do tliat. Do you want him ? ' ' Do I want him ? No, Barbara, but I do not choose that he shall escape. Go and look if there is a liglit in his window.' She was about to send Jane, wdien her father impa- tiently insisted on her going herself. Wondering at his caprice she obeyed. No sooner was the door closed behind her, than tho old man signed Jane W^elsh to come near him, iiu 214 F.VE 'ii! 1 '1 5 •' ' In 3,: ir »■'! 'fii 1 I'.hi iN ;! I ' Jane,' he said in a ■svliispor, ' I want you to do some- thing for me. No one must know about it. You have a sweetheart, I've hoard, the pohccman, Joseph Woodman, at Tavistock.' The f^irl puUed at tlio ends of lier apron, and looking down, said, ' Lawk ! How folks do talk ! ' * Is it true, -Jane ? ' * Well, sir, I won't deny us have been keeping com- pany, and on Sunday went to a love-feast together.' * That is well,' said ]\[r. Jordan earnestly, with his wild eyes gleaming. ' (}uick, before my daughter comes. Stand nearer. No one must hear. Would you do Josepli a good turn and f^et him a sergeantry '.' ' ' please, sir ! ' ' Then run as fa.-:t as you can to Tavistock.' ' Please, sir, I durstn't. It be night and it's whisht ' over the moor.' * Then leave it, and I will send someone else, and you will lose your lover.' * What do you want me to do, sir? I wouldn't have that neither.' * Then run to Tavistock, and tell Joseph Woodman to communicate at once with the warder of the Prince's Town jail, and bid him bring sufficient men with him, and come here, and I will deliver into their hands a runaway convict, a man who broke out of jail not long ago.' * Please, sir, whore is he ? Lawk, sir ! Wliat if he were on the moor as I went over it ? ' ' Never mind where he is. I will produce him at the right moment. Above all — Jane — remember this, not a word of what I have said to ]\Ir. Jasper or to Miss Barbara. Go secretly, and go at once. Ilush ! Here she comes.' Barbara entered. ' A liglit is in liis window,' she said. Then her father laughed, and shut his hands. * So,' he muttered, ' so I shall snap him.' • '\Vlii>ht =- uncanny. WANDERING LIGHTS !I5 ».y When her father was composed, and seemed iiicliiied to sleep, Barbara left his room, and went out of the house. She needed to be by herself. Her bosom heaved. She had so much to tliink of, so many troubles had come upon her, the future was dark, the prcsunt uncertain. If she were in the house she would not bo able to enjoy that quiet for which she craved, in which to compose the tumult of her heart, and arrange her ideas. Tlu'rc she was sure to be disturbed : a maid would ask for a duster, or another bunch of candles ; the cook would send to announce that tlie chimney of the kitchen was out of order, the soot or moi-tar was falling down it ; the laundry- maid would ask for soap ; Eve would want to be amused. Every other minute she would have some distracting though trifling matter forced on her. She must be alone. Iler heart yearned for it. She would not go to the Rock, the association with it was painful. It was other with the moor, Morwell Down, open to every air, without a tree behind which an imp might luik and hoot and make mows. Accordingly, without saying a word to anyone, Bar- bara stole along the lane to the moor. That was a sweet summer night. The moon was not yet risen, the stars were in the sky, not many, for the heaven was not dark, but suffused with lost sunlight. To the east lay the range of Dartmoor mountains, rugged and grey ; to the west, peaked and black against silver, the Cornish tors. But all these heights on this night were scintillating with golden moving spots of lire. The time had come for what is locally called ' swaliiig,' that is, firing the whinbrakcs. In places half a hill side was flaked with red flame, then it flared yellow, then died away. Clouds of smoke, tinged wuth fire reflection from below, rolled away before the wind. When the conflagra- tion reached a dense and tall tree-like mass of gorse the flame rose in a column, or wavered like a golden tongue. Then, when the material was exhausted and no contiguous I IV>' 2l6 EVE W^m'<\ 1 .' i '\ \)rakG ccntlnnctl tlie fire, the conflagraticn eiuled, and left only a patch cf dull glowing scarlet ember. IJarbara leaned against the last stone hedge which divided moor from field, and looked at the moving liglits without thinking of the beauty and wildness of the spec- tacle. She was steeped in her own thoughts, and was never at any time keenly alive to the beautiful and the fantastic. She thought of Jasper. She had lost all faith in him. lie was false and deceitful. ^Vhat could she believe about that meeting on the Haven Hock? lie might have con- vinced her father that he was not there. He could not convince her. What was to be done ? Would her father betray the man ? He was ill now and could do nothing. Why was Jasper so obstinate as to refuse to leave ? Why ? Because he was infatuated with Eve. On that very down it was that Jasper had been thrown and nearly killed. If only he had been killed outright. Why had she nursed him so carefully? Far better to have left him on the moor to die. IIow dare he aspire to Eve? The touch of his hand carried a taint. Her brain was dark, yet, like that landscape, full of wandering sparks of fire. She could not think clearly. She could not feel composedly. Those moving, wavering fires, now rushing up in sheaves of flame, now falling into a sullen glow burnt on the sides of solid mountains, but her fierv thoughts, that sent a blaze into her cheek and eye, and then died into a slow^ heat, moved over tossing billows of emotion. She put her hand to her head as if by grasping it she could bring her tlioughts to a standstill ; she pressed her hands against her bosom, as if by so doing she could fix her emotions. The stars in the serene sky burned steadily, ever of one brightness. Below, these wandering fires flared, glowed, and went out. Was it not a picture of the contrast between life on earth and life in the settled celestial habitations ? Barbara was not a girl with much fancy, but some such a thought came into her mind, and WANDERIXG Li GUTS 217 might I.ave taken form luul not slio at the moment seen a dark figure issue from the lane. 'Who goes there?' she called imperiously. The figure stopped, and after a moment answered: 'Oh, Miss! you have a-given me a turn. It he me, Jane.' 'And pray,' said liarhara, 'what hriiigs you here at night? AVhither are you going?' The girl hesitated, and groped in her mind for an ex- cuse. Then she said : '1 want, miss, to go to Tavistock.* 'To Tavistock ! It is too late, (lo homo to bed.' 'I must go, Miss r>arl)ara. I'm sure I don't want to. I'm scared of my life, but the master have sent me, and what can I do ? lie've a-told me to go to Joseph Wood- man.' ' It is impossible, at this time. It must not be.' 'But, ]\Iiss, I promised I'd go, and sure enough I don't half like it, over those downs at night, and nobody knows what one may meet. I wouldn't be caught by the Whish Hounds ar.d Black Copplestone, not for ' — the girl's imagination was limited, so she concluded, ' well. Miss, not for nothing.' Barbara considered a moment, and then said, 'I have no fear. I will accompany you over the Down, till you come to habitations. I am not afraid of returning alone.' ' Thank you. Miss Barbara, you be wonderfully good.' The girl was, indeed, very grateful for her company. She had had her nerves sorely shaken by the encounter with Watt, and now in the fulness of her thankfulness Glie confided to her mistress all that ]\Ir. Jordan had said, concluding with her opinion that probably 'It was naught but a fancy of the Squire; he do have lancios at times. Ilowsomever, us must humour 'in.' Jasper also had gone forth. In his breast also was trouble, and a sharp pain, that had come with a spasm when Barbara told him how she hated him. But Jasper did not go to Morwell Down. He went towards the Eaven Ptock tliat lay on the farther side of \\ ! comfort ho had that, though ] Barbara had betrayed him, she did not seek his punishment, she sought only his banishnunt from Morwell. Once — ;just once — ho had half opened her heart, looked in, and fancied he had discovered a tender regard for him lurking in its bottom. Since then lUirbara had sought every opportunity of disabusing his mind of such an idea. And now, this night, she had poured out her heart at his feet, and shown him hatred, not love. Jasper's life had been one of self-denial. There had been little joy in it. Anxieties had beset him from early childhood; solicitude for his brother, caro not to offend his father. ]>y nature he had a very loving heart, but ho had grown up with none to lovo save his brother, who had cruelly abused his love. A joyous manhood never ensues on a joyless boyhood. Jasper was always sensible of an inner sadness, even when he was happy. His brightest joys were painted on a sombre background, but then, how much brighter they seemed by the contrast — alas, only, that they were so few! The circumstances of his rearing had driven him in upon himself, so that he lived an inner life, which ho shared with no one, and which was un- perceived by all. Now, as he stood on the Rock, with an ache at his heart, Jasper uncovered his head, and looked mto the softly lighted vault, set with a few faint stars. As he stood thus with his hands folded over his hat, and looked westward at the clear, cold, silvery sky behind and over the Comish moors, an unutterable yearning strained IVANDF.RIXCf LIGHTS 19 his heart. IIo sulci no word, lie thouijht no thouj^'ht. Ho simply stood uncovered under the sunnncr nij^ht sky, and from his heart hi.'] pain exhaled. Did he surmise that at tliat same timo Inarbara was standinj^ on the moor, also lookinc,' away beyond tho liorizoii, also sul'lerin,!,', yearnin^i,', without knowing for what she longed? No, he had no tliouglit of that. And as both thus stood far removed in bodv, but one in sincerity, sullering, fidelity, thore siiot athwart tho vault of heaven a brilliant da/zling star. ^[r. Coysho at his window, smoking, said : ']>y Ginger! a meteor ! ' But was it not an angel bearing the dazzling chalico of the sangreal from highest heaven, fi'om the region of tho still stars, down to this world of llickering, fading, wandering fires, to minister therewith balm to two dis- tressed spirits ? CHArTER XXXIII. TIIH OWLS. Barbatja had been interrupted in her meditations, so was Jasper. As ho stood lost in a painful dream, but with a dew from heaven falling on his parched soul, suddenly ho was startled out of his abstractioii by a laugh and an ex- clamation at his elbow. 'Well, Jasper, composing versos to the weak-eyed Leali or the blue-orbed liachel ? ' 'What brings you here, Watt"?' asked Jasper, dis- guising his annoyance. ' Or, my sanctimonious fox, are you waiting here for one of the silly geese to run to you ? ' ' You have come here bent on mischief,' said Jasper, disdaining to notice his jokes. The evening, tho still scene, the solitary platform raised « I' I I H 1 tki ?f, 220 EVE I' • «u - n \ so hi^'li above tho land beyond, liad soonicd holy, soothin;* as a church, and now, at once, witli the sound of Walter's voice, the feeling was gone, all seemed desecrated. 'Watt,' said Jasper, sternly, 'you sent mo away to ]'>uclifastU'ig]i by a lie. Why did you do that ? It i.s utterly false that my father is ill and dying.' ' Is it so ? Then I dreamed it, Jasper. Morning dreams come true, folks say. There, my brother, you are a good, forgiving fellow. You will pardon mo. Tho fact is that ]\hirtin and I wanted to know how matters went at liomo. I did not care to go myself, ]\lartii: 30uld not go, .so — I sent you, my good simpleton.' 'You told me a lie.' 'If I had told you the truth you would not have gone. What was that we were taught at school? "Magna est Veritas, et pra3valobit." I don't believe it ; experience tells me the contrary. Long live lies ; they win the day all the world over.' ' What brings you here ? ' ' Have I not told you? I desired to sec you and to have news of my father. You have been quick about it, Jasper. I could scarce believe my eyes when I saw you riding home.' 'Y'ou have been watching?' ' Of course I have. My eyes are keen. Nothing escapes them.' 'Walter, this will not do. I am not deceived; you did not come here for tho purpose you say. Y'ou want some- thing else, what is it?' The boy laughed, snapped his fingers, and began to dance, whistling a tune, on the rock ; approaching, then backing from Jasper. 'Oh, you clever old Jasper!' ho laughed, 'now you begin to sec — like the puppy pitched into the water-butt, who opened his eyes when too late.' Jasper folded his arms. He said nothing, but waited till the boy's mad pranks came to an end. At last Watt, .,11! THE OWLS 331 to i.s seeing that ho could not prov()li(! his brother, (le.--intc(l, and cumo to him with aflVcttd huuiility. ' There, Jasper— -Saint Jasper, I mean — I Vvill bo quiet and f,'o throu,i,'li my catecliism.' * Tlien tell mo why vou arc he re' ' Well, now, you shall hear our siIumuo. ]\rartiii and I thou^'lit tliat you had better pateli up your little quarnl with father, and then wo kni'W we t^hould have a f,'ood iVieud at his car to prompt fori^iveiiess, ami so, peihaps, as his conscieiu'o stirred, liis purso-strin,':s mi;-,dit relax, and you would 1)0 ablo to send us a trille in money. Is not this reasonable ? ' Yes, there could be no denying' it, this was reasonable and consistent with the charaeters of the tv>-o, who would value their father's favour only by what it would profit them. Nevertheless Jasper was unsatisfied. Watt was so fiilse, so unscrupulous, that hi.-; word never could be trusted. Jasper considered for a few minutes, then ho asked, ' Where is Martin — is he here '.' ' ' Here ! ' jeered the boy, ' Martin here, indeed ! not he. He is in safe quarters. Where ho is I will blah to no one, not even to you. lie sends mo out from his ark of refuL^'o as the dove, or rather as the raven, to brin<; him news of the world from which he is secluded.' 'Walter, answer mo this. Who met Miss Eve this evening on this very rock'? Answer mo truly. Moi'o depends on this than you are awaro of.' 'Missj'^vo! What do you mean? iMy sister who is dead and gone ? I do not relish the company of ghosts.' * You know whom I mean. This is miserable evasion. I mean the younger of the daughters of ]\Ir. Jordan. She was here at sundown this evening and someone was with her. I conjure you by all that you hold sacred ' * I hold nothing sacred,' said the boy. ' I conjure you most solemnly to tell mo the whole truth, as brother to brother.' w ti * I !li I < ill n -tj 11," 222 EVE ' Well, then — as brotlu r to brother — I did.' • For what purpose, ^\'att ? ' ' My dear Jasper, can wo live on air ? Hero am I liopping about the woods, roosting in the branches, and there is poor I\rartin mewed up in his ark. I must find food for liim and myself. You know that I have made tho acquaintance of the young lady who, oddly enough, bears the name of our dear departed mother and sister. I have appealed to her compassion, and held out my hat for money. I offered to dance on my head, to turn a wheel all round the edge of tliis cliff, in jeopardy of my life for half a guinea, and she gave me tlie money to prevent mo from risking broken bones.' ' Oil, Watt, you should not have done tliis ! ' ' Wo must live. Wo must have money.' ' But, Watt, where is all that which was taken from my pocket ? ' ' Gone,' answered the boy. ' Gone as the snow before south-west wind. Nothing melts like money, not even snow, no, nor butter, no, nor a girl's heart.' Then with a sly laugh, 'Jasper, w^-ero docs old addle-brains keep his strong box ? ' ' Walter ! ' exclaimed Jasper, indignantly. ' Ah ! ' laughed the boy, ' if I knew where it was I would creep to it by a mouse hole, and put my little finger into the lock, and when I turned that, open Hies the box.' ' Walter, forbear. You are a wicked boy.' • I confess it. I glory in it. Father always said I was predestined to ' • Bo silent,' ordered Jasper, angrily ; * you are insuf- ferable.' ' Tliere, do not rulllo your feathers over a joke. Have you some money to give me now '? ' ' Watt,' said Jasper, very sternly, ' answer me frankly, if you can. I warn you.' He laid his hand on the boy's arm. ' A great deal depends on your giving me a truthful answer. Is !Martin anywhere hereabouts ? I fear he is, THE OWLS 223 in spite of your assurances, for Avlicro you arc Lo is not often far away. The jackal and the lion hunt together.' ' He is not here. Good-bye, old brother Grave-airs.' Then he ran away, but before he had gone far turned and hooted like an owl, and ran on, and was lost in the gloom of the woods, but still asjhe ran hooted at intervals, and owls answered his cry from the rocks, and flitted ghost-like about in the dusk, seeking their brother who called them and mocked at them. Now that he was again alone, Jasper in vain sought to rallv his thoughts and recover his former frame of mind. ])ut that was not possible. Accordingly he turned home- wards. He was very tired. He had had two long days' ride, and had slept little if at all the previous night. Though recovered after his accident he was not perfectly vigorous, and the two hard days and broken rest Jiad greatly tired liim. On reaching Morwell ho did not take a light, but cast himself, in his clothes, on his bed, and fell into a heavy sleep. Barbara walked quietly back alter having parted with Jane. Hhe hoped that Jasper had on second thoughts taken the prudent course of escaping. It was inconceiva- ble that he should remain and allow himself to be retaken. Sho was puzzled how to explain his conduct. Then all at once she rLmembered that she had left the convict s'uic in her father's room; she had forgotten to removo it. 8ho quickened her pace and arrived breathless at ]\roL\\\?ll. She entered her father's apartment on tiptoe. SJio stood still and listened. A night-light burned on the floor, and the cnclosi)ig iron pierced with round holes cast circles of light about tiie walls. The candle was a rushlight of feeble ilkr^iinating power. Barbara could see her father lying, apparently asleep, in bed, with his pale thin hands out, hanging down, clasped, as if in prayer ; one of the spots of light danced over the linger tips and nails. She heard him breathe, as in sleep. l; fi ll i ■ ' Ssi ll*-,,' 124 EVE If-! t' I -l "i ^' Then she stepped across the room to where she had cast the suit of clothes. They lay in a grey heap, with the spots of lij^'ht avoiding them, dancing above them, but not falling on them. Barbara stooped to pick them up. ' Stay, Barbara,' said her father. * I hear you. I see what you are doing. I know your purpose. Leave those things where they lie.' ' O papa ! dear papa, suffer me to put them away.' ' Let them lie there, where I can sec them.' ' But, papa, what will the maids think when they come in ? Besides it is untidy to let tliem litter about the floor.' He made an impatient gesture with his hand. ' May I not, at least, fold them and lay the:n on the chair ? ' ' You may not touch thorn at all,' he said in a tone of irritation, hlie knew his temper too well to oppose him further. * Good night, dear papa. I suppose Eve is gone to bed •? ' ' Yes ; go also.' She was obliged, most reluctantly, to leave the room. She ascended the stairs, and entered her own sleeping apartment. From this a door comnuniicated with that of her sister. She opened this door and with her light rv.- tered and crossed it. Eve had gone to bed, and thrown all her clothes abouL on the floor. Barbara had some dilliculty in picking her way among the scattered articles. When she came to the bedside, she stood, and held her candle aloft, and let the light fall over the sleeping girl. How lovely she was, with her golden hair in confusion on the pillow ! She was lying with her cheek on one rosy palm, and the other hand was out of bed, on the white sheet — and see ! upon the finger, Barbara recognised the turquoise ring. Eve did not venture to wear this by day. •m^ THE OWLS 225 At night, in her room, she had thrust tho golden hoop over her finger, and had gone to sleep without removing it. Barbara stooped, and kissed her sister's cheek. Eve (lid not awake, but smiled in slumber ; a dimple formed at the corner of her mouth. Then Barbara went to her own room, opened her desk, and the secret drawer, and looked at the bunch of dry roses. They were very yellow now, utterly withered and worthless. The girl took them, stooped her face to them — was it to discover if any scent lingered in the faded leaves ? Then she closed the drawer and desk again, with a sigh. Was Barbara insensible to what is beautiful, inappre- ciative of the poetry of life ? Surely not. She had been forced by circumstances to be practical, to devote her whole thought to the duties of tho house and estate ; she had said to herself that she had no leisure to think of those things that make life graceful ; but through her strong, direct, and genuine nature ran a 'Leitmotif of sweet, pure melody, kept under and obscured by the jar and jangle of domestic cares and worries, but never lost. There is no nature, however vulgar, that is deficient in its musical phrase, not always quite original and unique, and only the careless listener marks it not. The patient, atten- tive car suspects its presence first, listens for it, recognises it, and at last appreciates it. In poor faithful Barbara now the sweet melody, some- what sad, was rising, becoming articulate, asserting itself above all other sounds and adventitious strains — but, alas I there was no ear to listen to it. Barbara went to her window and openea it. * How the owls are hooting to-night ! ' she said. 'They, like myself, are full of unrest. To-whit I To-whoo I ' H,:-v.|| \'7: k ♦ ('!(■ ■'' U Z26 EVE CHAPTER XXXIV. \ \i THE DOVES. Barbara had no thought of going to bed. She could not have slept had she gone. There ^\(^s a clock in the tower, a noisy clock that made its pulsations heard through the quadrangle, and this clock struck twelve. By this time Jane had roused the young policeman, and he was collect- ing men to assist him in the capture. Perhaps they were already on their way, — or were they waiting for the arrival of warders from Prince's Town ? Those wardeis were more dangerous men than the constancies, for they were armed with short guns, and prepared to fire should their game attempt to break away. She looked across the court at Jasper's window. No light was in it. Was he there, asleep ? or had he taken her advice and gone ? She could not endure the thought of his capture, the self-reproach of having betrayed him was more than she could bear. Barbara, usually so col- lected and cool, was now nervous and hot. More light was in the sky than had been when she was oa the down. The moon was rising over the roof. She could not see it, but she saw the reflection in Jasper's window, like flakes of silver. What should she do ? Her distress became insupport- able, and she felt she must be doing something to relieve her mind. The only thing open to her was to make another attempt to recover the prison suit. If she could destroy that, it would be putting out of the way one piece of evidence against him — a poor piece, still a piece. She was not sure that it would avail him anything, but it was worth risking her father's anger on the chance. She descended the stairs once more to her father's room. The door was ajar, with a feeble yellow strco^k f THE DOVES 227 issuinc; from it. She looked in cautlouslv. Tlicn with the tread of a thief she entered and passed through a maze of quivering bezants of dull light. She stooped, but, as she touched the garments, lieard her father's voice, and started upright. lie was speaking in his sleep— 'i^c j;ro- fniidis daniavi ad tc ; ' then he tossed and moaned, and put up his hand and held it shaking in the air. ' Si iniquitates' — he seemed troubled in his sleep, unable to catch the sequence of words, and repeated ' Si iniqiiitntcs ohscrvaveris,' and lay still on his pillow again; whilst Barbara stood watching him, with her finger to her lip, afraid to move, afraid of the consequences, should he wako and see iier in her disobedience. Then he muml)led, and she hoard him pulling at his sheet. ' Out of love, out of the deeps of love, I have shnied.' Then suddenly he cried out, ' SI i 11 iqni tales ohscrvarcn's, Dominc, quis susthicbit 1 ' — ho had the sentence complete, or nearly so, and it appeased him. Barbai.i heard him sigli, she stole to his side, bowed over his ear, and said, ' Apud tc propitiatio est: spcravit aniina vica in J)oini)iQ.' \yhether ho lieard or not she did not know ; he breathed thenceforth evenly in sleep, and the expression of distress left his face. Then Barbara took up the bundle of clothes and softly withdrew. She was risking something for Jiisper -the loss of her father's regard. She had recently drawn nearer to his heart than ever before, and he had allowed her to cling round his neck and kiss him. Yet now she deliberately disobeyed him. lie would be very angry next morning. When she was in the hall she turiud over in her mind what was best to be done with the clothes. She could not hide them in the house. Her father would insist on their reproduction. They must be destroyed. Slio could not burn them : the lire in the kitchen was out. The only way she could think of getting rid of them was to carry them to the Buven Rock and throw them 2 J, I L'';;ll 228 EVE over the precipice. This, accordingly, she did. She left tlie house, and in the moonlight walked through the fields and wood to the crag and hurled the bundle over the edge. Now that this piece of evidence against Jasper was removed, it was expedient that ho should escape without further delay — if he were still at Morwell. ]>arbar:. had a little money of her own. When she unlocked her desk and looked at the withered flowers, she drew from it her purse, that contained her savings. There were several pounds in it. She drew the knitted silk purse from her pocket, and, standing in the moonlight, counted the sovereigns in her hand. She was standing before the gatehouse near the old trees, liidden by their shadow. She looked up at Jasper's other window — that which com- manded the entrance and was turned from the moon. AVas lie there ? IIow could slie communicate with him, give him the mon.cy, and send him off? Then the grating clock in the tower tolled one. Time was pas'^ing, danger drew on apace. Something must be done. Barbara picked up some pebbles and threw them at Jasper's win- dow, but her aim was bad or her arm shook, and they scattered without touching the glass. All at once she heard feet — a trampling in the lane — and she saw also that lights were burning on the down. The lights were merely gorse blazes, for Morwell Moor was being ' swaled,' and the ihimcs were creeping on ; and the trampling was of young colts and bullocks that fed on the down, which were escaping before the ^li.:, ; but to Barbara's nervous fear the lights and the tramp betokened the approach of a body of men to capture Jasper Babb. Then, without any other thought but to save him, she ran up the stair, struck at his door, threw it open, and entered. He started from his bed, on which he had cast himself fully dressed, and from dead weariness had dropped asleep. •For God'8 dear sake,' said Barbara, 'come away! THE DOVES 239 Tlicy are after you ; they are close to tlic liouse. Ilevo is money — take it, and go by the garden.' She stood in the door, holding it, trembling in all her limbs, and the door she held rattled. lie came straight towards her. 'Miss Jordan!' he exclaimed. 'Oh, Miss Jordan' I shall never forgive myself. Go down into the garden — I will follow at once. I wil' speak to vou ; I will tell vou all.' ' I do not wish you to speak. I insist on your going.' He came to her, took her hand from the door, and led her down the stairs. As they came out into the gateway they heard the tramp of many feet, and a rush of young cattle debouched from the lane upon the open space before the gate. Barbara was not one to crv, but she shivered and shrank before her eves told her what a mistake she had made. ' Here,' she said, ' I give you my purse. Go ! ' 'No,' answered Jasper. ' There is no occasion for me to go. I liave acted wrongly, but I did it for the best. You see, there is no occasion for fear. These ponies have been frightened by the flames, and have come through iho moor-gate, which has been left open. I must see that they do not enter the court and do mischief.' ' Never mind about the cattle, I pray you. Go ! Take this money ; it is mine. I freely give it you. Go ! ' ' Why are you so anxious about me if you hate me ? ' asked Jasper. ' Surely it would gratify hate to see me handcuffed and carried off ! ' * No, I do not liate you — that is, not so mu'-h as t ^ desire that. I have but one desire concerning you - that we should never see your face again.' * Miss Jordan, I shall not be taken.' She flared up with rage, disappointment, shamo. • How dare you ! ' she cried. ' How dare you stand hero and set me at naught, when I have done so much for you 2'^0 EVE ,'lien I have cv( ventured to rouse you in the depth of nif,'lit ! j\Iy (lod ! you are enough to madden me. I ^vill not liave the shame come on this liouso of having you taken here. Yes— I recall my ^vords — I do hate you.' She Avrung her hands ; Jasper caught them and held them between his own. ' ^liss ]}arLara, I have deceived you. Be calm.' ' I know only too well that you have deceived me — all of us,' slie said passionately. ' Let go my hands.' ' You misunderstand me. I shall not be taken, for I am not pursued. I never took your sister's money. I have never been in jail.' She plucked her hand:? away, * I do not comprehend.' 'Nevertheless, Avhat I say is simple. Y''ou have sup- posed me to be a thief and an escaped convict. I am neither.' Barbara shook her head impatiently. * I have allowed you to think it for reasons of my own. But now you must be undeceived.' The young cattle were galloping about in front, kick- ing, snorting, trying the hedges. Jasper left Barbara for a while that he might drive them into a field Vvliero they could do no harm. She remained inider the great gate in the shadow, bewildered, hoping that what he now said was true, yet not daring to believe his words. Presently he returned to her. He had purposely left her that she might have time to compose herself. When he returned she was calm and stern. * You cannot blind me with your falsehoods,' she said. * I know that Mr. Lzekiel Babb was robbed by liis own son. I know the prison suit was yours. Y^ou con- fessed it when I showed it you on your return to conscious- ness : perhaps before you were aware how seriously you committed yourself. I know that you were in jail at Prince's Town, and that you escaped.' m] THE DOVES !3i * Well, Miss Jordan, what you say is partly true, and partly incorrect.' * Arc you not Mr. Babb's son ? ' she asked imperiously. He bowed ; ho was courtly in manner. ' Was not his son found guilty of robbing him ? * He bowed again. ' Was he not imprisoned for so doing ? * *He was so.' * Did he not escape from prison ? * * He did.' * And yet,' exclaimed Barbara angrily, * you dare to say with one breath that you are innocent, whilst with the next you confess your guilt ! Like the satyr in the fable, I would drive you from my presence, you blower of true and false ! ' He caught her hands again and held her firmly, whilst he drew her out of the shadow of the archway into the moonlight of the court. * Do you give it up ? ' he asked ; and, by the moon, the sickle moon, on his pale face, she saw him smile. By that same moon he saw the frown on her brow. * Miss Barbara, I am not Ezekicl Babb's only son 1 ' Her heart stood still ; then the blood rushed through her veins like the tidal bore in the Severn. The whole of the sky seemed full of daylight. She saw all now clearly. Her pride, her anger fell from her as the chains fell from Peter when the angel touched him. ' No, Miss Jordan, I am guiltless in this matter — guiltless in everything except in having deceived you.' ' God forgive you ! ' she said in a low tone as her eyes fell and tears rushed to them. She did not draw her hands from his. She was too much dazed to know that he held them. ' God forgive you ! — you have made mo suffer very much ! ' She did not see how his large earnest eyes were fixed upon her, how he was struggling with his own heart to refrain from speaking cut what he felt ; but had she met '■22 EVE il:U i his cyo then in tho moonlight, tlicro would have been no need of words, only a quiver of the lips, and tlioy would have been clasped in each other's arms. She did not look up ; she was studying, through a veil of tears, some white stones that caught tho moon- light. ' This is not the time for me to tell you tho whole sad tale,' he went on. ' I have acted as I thought my duty pointed out — my duty to a brother.' 'Yes,' said Barbara, • you have a brother— that strange boy.' A laugh, jeering and shrill, close in their ears. From behind the great yew appeared the shoulders and face of the impish Walter. ' Oh, the pious, the proper Jasper ! Oh, ho, ho ! ^Yhat frail men these saints are who read their Bibles to weak-eyed Leahs and blooming Bachels, and make love to both ! lie pointed jeeringly at them with his long fingers. ' I set the down on fire for a little fun. I drove tho ponies along this lane ; and see, I have disturbed a pair of ring-doves as well. I won't hoot any more ; but — coo ! coo I coo ! ' He ran away, but stopped every now and then and sent back to them his insulting imitations of the call of wood-pigeons — ' Coo 1 coo ! coo I ' CHAPTER XXXV. THE ALARM BELL. Next morning Barbara entered the hall after having seen about the duties of the house, ordered dinner, weighed out spices and groats, made the under-servant do the work of Jane, who was absent ; she moved about her usual duties with her usual precision and order, but without her usual composure. THE ALARM BELL S33 ^Vllcn she came into the hull oii her way to her fathcr'a room, she found Evo thcro engaged and hard at work on some engrossing occupation. * Oh, Bab ! do conu; and see how bright and beautiful I am making this,' said the girl in ovcrllowing spirits and pride. * I found it in the chest in the garret, and I am furbishing it up.' She held out a sort of necklace or oriental carcanet, composed of chains of gold beads and bezants. ' It was so dull when I found it, and now it shines like pure gold ! * Her innocent, childish face was illumined with delight. * I am become really industrious.' ' Yes, dear ; hard at work doing nothing.' ' I should like to wear this,' she sighed. That she had deceived her sister, that she had given her occasion to bo anxious about her, had quite passed from her mind, occupied only with glittering toys. Barbara hesitated at her father's door. She knew that a painful scene awaited her. lie was certain to be angry and reproach her for having disobeyed him. But her heart was relieved. She believed in the innocence of Jasper. Strengthened by this faith, she was bold to con- front her father. She tapped at the door and entered. She saw at once that he had heard her voice without, and was expecting her. There was anger in his strange eyes, and a hectic colour in his hollow cheeks. lie was partly dressed, and sat on the side of the bed. In his hand he held the stick with which he was wont to rap when he needed assistance. ' Where are the clothes that lay on the floor last lu'ght ? ' was his salutation, pointing with the stick to the spot whence Barbara had gathered them up. * They are gone, papa ; I have taken them away.' She looked him firmly in the face with her honest eyes, miwincing. He, however, was unable to meet her steadfast gaze. His eyes flickered and fell. His mouth was drawn and set with a hard, cruel expression, such as his face II "iif*.' 234 EVE rarely wore ; a look ^vllich soiiR'times fornictl, but was aa quickly (.'Haccd by a wave of wcalviicss. Now, however, the expression was iixed. • I forbade you to touch them. Did you hear mo ? ' ' Yes, deiir p;ipa, I have disobeyed you, and I am sorry to ha\e olleiided you ; but I cannot siiy that I repent haviii',' taken the clothes away. I found them, and I had a right to remove them.' ' Bring them here innnediately.' • I cannot do so. I have destroyed them.' ' You have dared to do that ! ' Ilis eyes began to kin- dle and the colour left his cheeks, which became white as chalk. Barbara saw that ho had lost command over him- self. Ilis feeble reason was overwhelmed by passion. 'Papa,' she said, in her calmest tones, ' I have never disobeyed you before. Only on this one occasion my con- science ' 'Conscience!' he cried. *I have a co. nee in a thornbush, and yours is asleep in feathers. You have dared to creep in here like a thief in the night and steal from me what I ordered you to leave.' He was playing with his stick, clutching it in the middle and turning it. With his other hand he clutched and twit'tcd and almost tore the sheets. Barbara believed that he would strike her, but when he said ' Come here,' she approached him, looking him full in the face without shrinking. She knew that ho was not responsible for what he did, yet she did not hesitate about obeying his command to approach. She had disobeyed him in the night in a matter concerning another, to save that other ; ghe would not disobey now to save herself. His face was ugly with unreasoning fury, and his eyes wilder than she liad seen them before. He held up the stick. • Papa,' she said, ' not your right arm. cr ycu will re- cpen the wound.' THE ALARM HELL 235 Her calmiu'.ss iiupressccl liim. IIo cliangoil the stick into his left hand, iiiul, gathering' up the sheet into a knot, tlu'iist it into his nioutli and hit into it. ^Vas the moment come that IJarhara liad long dnaded *? And was slu; to be the on(* on Avhom his madn;'ss lirst dis- played itself'? ' I'apa,' she said, ' I 'will take any punislnnent you think lit, hut, pray, do not strike me, I eainiot bear that — not for my own sake, hut for yours.' lie paid no attention to her romouotrxnco, but raised the stick, holding it by the ferule. Steadily looking into his sparkling eye;?, lUirbxra re- peated the words he had muttered and cried in hi.-; r.lcep, '' l)c. })YoJmulh clamai'i ad Ic, Domhic. Si Iniijiiitates oh- scnutreris, qni.^ snstinchit ?' Then, as in a dissolving view on a sheet one scene changes into another, so in his wild eyes the expression of rage shifted to one of fear; ho dropped the stick, and Jasper, who at that moment entered, took it and laid it beyond his reach. Mr. Jordan fell back on his pillow and moaned, and put his hands over his brow, and beat his temples with his palms, lie would not look at his daughter again, but peevishly turned his face away. Now Barbara's strength deserted her ; she felt as if the floor under her feet were rolling and as if the walls of the room were contracting upon her. * I must have air,' she said. Jasper caught her arm and led her through the liall into the garden. Eve, alarmed to see her sister so colourless, ran to sup- port her on the other side, and overwhelmed her with in- considerate attentions. ' You must allow her time to recover herself,' said Jasper. ' Miss Jordan has been np a good part of the night. The horses en the down were driven on the pre- mises by the fire and alarmed her and made her rise. Sho will be well di recti v.' i 11 <',1 T m fV] I ' 'I ■'a! i.^' Wi." " ■ni i'll IPl If ll rr ' l! 236 EVE ' I am already recovered,' said Barbara, with affected cheerfulness. ' The room was close. I should like to be left a little bit in the sun and air, by myself, and to myself.' Eve readily ran back to her burnishinj:^ of the gold beads and bezants, and Jasper heard Mr. Jordan calling' him, so he went to his room. lie found the sick gentle- man with clouded brow and closed lips, and eyes that gave him furtive glances but could not look at him steadily. * Jasper Babb,' said ]\Ir. Jordan, ' I do not wish you to leave the house or its immediate precincts today. Jane has not returned. Eve is um-eliable, and Barbara over- strained.' ' Yes, sir, I will do as vou wish.' ' On no account leave. Send Miss Jordan to me when she is bettor.' When, about half-an-hour after, Barbara entered the room, she went direct to her father to kiss him, but he re- pelled her. ' What did you mean,' he asked, without looking at her, • by those wjrds of the Psalm ? ' ' Oh, papa ! I thought to soothe you. You are fond of the Dc I'rofundis — you murmur it in your sleep.' * You used the words significantly. What are the deeds I have done amiss for which you reproach mo ? ' ' We all need pardon — some for one thing, some for another. And, dearest papa, we all need to say ' Ainul te propiiiatio est : spcravit cuiima mca in Domino/ ' Propitiatio ! ' repeated Mr. Jordan, and resumed his customary trick of brushing his forehead with his hand as though to sweep cobwebs from it which fell over and clouded his eyes. ' For what '? Say out plainly of what you accuse me. I am prepared for the worst. I cannot endure these covert stabs. You are always watching me. Y''ou are ever casting innuendos. You cut and pierce me . That gashed my body, I worse than the scytne. 11: drive your sharp words into my soul. y THE ALARM BELL i37 * My dear papa, you are mistaken.' ' I am not mistaken. Your looks and words have meaning. Speak out.' ' I accuse you of nothing, darhng papa, but of being perliaps just a little unjust to me.' SI' " soon saw that her presence was irritating him, her protestations unavailing to disabuse his mind of the pre- judice that had taken hold of it, and so, with a sigh, she left him. Jane Welsh did not return all day. This was strange. She had promised Barbara to return the first thing in the morning. Slie was to sleep in Tavistock, where she had a Bister, married. Barbara went about her work, but with abstracted mind, and without her usual energy. She was not quite Batisfied. She tried to believe in Jasper's innocence, and yet doubts would rise in her mind in spite of her efforts to keep them under. Whom had Eve met on the Haven Bock ? Jasper had denied that he was the person : who, then, could it have been ? The only other conceivable person was Mr. Coy she, and Barbara at once dismissed that idea. Eve would never make a mystery of meeting Doctor Squash, as she called him. At last, as evening drew on, Jane arrived. Barbara met her at the door and remonstrated with her. ' Please, miss, I could not help myself. I found Joseph Woodman last night, and he said he must send for the warders to identit's tlie prisoner. Then, miss, he said I was to wait till he had got the warders and some con- stables, and wlien they was ready to come on I might come too, but not before. I slept at my sister's last night.' * Where are the men now ? ' * They are about the house — some behind hedges, somo in the wood, some on the down." Barbara shuddered. 2^.8 EVE m l.« If \ ! '] \\ ^ ' Please miss, tlioy have ^nins. And, miss, I "were to come on and toll the master that all was ready, and if he would let them know wliere the man was they'd trap Jiim.' ' There is no man here but Mr. Babh.' Jane's face fell. ' Lawk, miss ! If Joseph tlionght us had l)ccn making games of he, I believe he'd never marry me— and after going to a Love Feast with him, too ! 'Twould be serious that, surely.' ' Joseph has taken a long time coming.' ' Joseph takes things leisurely, miss — 'tis his nature. I's have been courting time out o' mind ; and, please, miss, if the man were here, then the master was to give the signal by pulling the alarm-bell. Then the poli'^e and warders would close in on the house and take him.' Barbara was as pale now as when nearly fainting in the morning. This was not the old Barbara with hale cheeks, hearty eyes, and ripe lips, tall and firm, and decided in all her movements. Xo ! This was net at all the old Barbara. ' Well, ]\Iiss Jordan, what is troubling you ? ' asked Jasper. * The house is surrounded. Men are stationed about it. No one can leave it without being challenged.' ' Yes,' said r)arbara quickly. * By the Abbot's Well there runs a path down between laurels, then over a stilo into the Avood. It io still possible — will you go ? * ' You do not trust me ? ' ' I wish to — but ' • Will you do one thing more for mo ? * She looked timidly at him. •Peal the alarm-bell.' CONFESSIONS 239 CHAPTER XXXVI. f CONFESSIONS. As the bell clanged Mr. Jordan came out of liis door. IIo had been ordered to remain quiet and take no exercise ; but now, leaning on his stick and holding the door jamb, he came forth. * What is this ? ' ho asked, and Jasper put his hand to the rope to arrest the upward cast. ' Why are you ringing, Barbara ? Who told you to do so ? ' * I bade her ring,' said Jasper, ' to call these,' ho pointed to the door. Several constables were visible ; foremost came Joseph and a prison warder. * Take him ! ' cried !Mr. Jordan : ' arrest the fellow. Here he is — he is unarmed.' ' What ! Mr. Jasper ! ' asked Joseph. Among the ser- vants and labourers the young steward was only known as Mr. Jasper. * Wliy, sir, this is — this is — Mr. Jasper ! ' * This is the man,' said Ignatius Jordan, clinging to the door-jamb and pointing excitedly with his stick, — ' this is the man who robbed his own father of money that was mine. This is the man who was locked up in jail and broke out, and, by the mercy and justice of Heaven, was cast at my door.' * I beg your pardon, sir,' said Joseph, ' I don't under- stand. This is your steward, ^Ir. Jasper.' * Take him, handcuff him before my eyes. This is the fellow you have been in search of ; I deliver him up.' ' But, sir,' said the warder, ' you are wrong. This is not our escaped convict.' ' He is, I tell you I know he is.' * I am sorry to differ from you, sir, but this is not he. I know which is which. Why, this chap'n hair have never I i ii '^—^ ^40 EV/: I i TK -V >i -i II i' been cut. If lio'd been with us he'd have a head like a mole's back.' * Not he ! ' cried Mr. Jordan frantically. * I say to you this is Jasper Babb.' ' Well, sir,' said the warder, * sorry to differ, sir, but our man ani't Jasper at all — he's Martin.' Then Joseph turned his li.^dit blue eyes round in quest of Jane. * I'll roast her ! I'll cat her,' he muttered, ' at the next Love Feast.' The men went away much disappointed, grumbling, swearing, ill-appeased by a glass of cider each ; Jane sulked in the kitchen, and said to Barbara, ' This day month, please, miss.' Mr. Jordan, confounded, disappointed, crept back to his room and cast himself on his bed. The only person in the huuse who could have helped them out of their disappointment was Eve, who knew something of the story of Martin, and knew, moreover, or strongly suspected, that he was not very far off. But no one thought of consulting Eve. When all the party of constables was gone, Barbara stood in the garden, and Jasper came to her. * You will tell me all now ? ' she said, looking at him with eyes full of thankfulness and trust. * Yes, Miss Jordan, everything. It is due to you. May I sit here by you on the garden seat ? ' She seated herself, with a smile, and made room for him, drawing her skirts to her. The ten- week stocks, purple and white, in a bed under the window filled the air with perfume ; but a sweeter perfume than ten-week stocks, to Barbara, charged the atmosphere — the perfume of perfect confidence. Was Barbara plain ? Who could think that must have no love for beauty of expression. She had none of her sister's loveliness, but then Eve had none of hers. Each had a charm of her own, — Eve the charm of exquisite physical perfection, Barbara that of intelligence and sweet faith }m CONFESSIOXS 241 fmd ' -jinplGtc self-devotion streaming cut of eye and noutli — indeed, out of every feature. AVliicli is lovelier — the lantern, or the light within? There was little of soul and character in frivolous ]'^vo. When Jasper seated himself beside ]Miss Jordnn neither spoke for full ten minutes. She folded her hands on her lap. Perhaps their souls were, like the ten-week stocks, exhaling sweetne?^^. 'Dear ]Miss .loidan,' said Jasper, 'how pleasantly the thrushes are singing ! ' ' Yes,' she replied, ' but I want to hear your story — 1 can always listen to the thrushes.' He was silent after this for several minutes. She did not further press him. She knew he would tell her all when he had rallied his courage to do so. Thev heard Ya'c. upstairs in her room lightly singing a favourite air from ' Don Giovanni.' ' It is due to you,' said Jasper at last. ' I will hide nothing from you, and I know your kind heart will bear with me if I am somewhat long.' She looked round, smiled, just raised her fingers on her lap and let them fall again. When Jasper saw that smile he thought he had never seen a sweeter sight. And yet people said that Barbara was plain ! ' ]Miss Jordan, 'as you have heard, my brother jMartin took the money. Poor Martin ! Poor, dear Martin ! His is a broken life, and it was so full of promise ! ' ' Did ycu love Martin very dearly '.' ' * I do love him dearly. I have pitied him so deeply. He has had a hard childhood. I will tell you all, and your good kind soul wdl pity, not condemn him. You have no conception what a bright handsome lad he was. I love to think of him as ho was — guileless, brimming with spirits. Unfortunately for us, our father had the idea that he could mould his children's characier into whatever shape he desired, and he had resolved to malce 242 EVE H," i: II of Martin a Baptist minister, so ho began to ■write on his tender heart the hard tenets of Calvinism, with an iron pen dipped in galL ^Vhcn my brother and I played together wo were happy — happy as butterflies in the sun. When we heard our father's voice or saw him, we ran away and hid behind buslies. He interfered with onr pur- suits, ho sneered at our musical tastes, he tried to stop our practising on tlio violin. We were overburdened with religion, liad texts rammed into us as they ram groats down the tln-oats of Strasburg geese. Our livers became diseased like these same geese — ^our moral livers. Poor Martin could least endure this education : it drove him desperate. He did what was wrong through sheer provo- cation. r>y nature he is good. Ho has a high spirit, and that led him into revolt.' 'I have seen your brother IMartin,' said Barbara. • When you were brought insensible to this house he was with you.' ' What did you think of him ? ' asked Jasper, with pride in his tone. ' I did not see his face, he never removed his hat.' • Has ho not a pleasant voice ! and he is so grand and generous in his demeanour ! ' ]3arbara said nothing. Jasper waited, expecting some word of praise. ' Tell me candidly what you thought of him,' said Jasper. ' I do not like to do so. I did form an opinion of him, but — it was not favourable.' * You saw him for too short a time to be able to judge,' said the young man. ' It never does to condemn a man otf-hand without knowing his circumstances. Do you know, Miss Jordan, that saying of St. Paul about pre- mature judgments '? Ho bids us not judge men, for the Great Day will reveal the secrets of all hearts, and then — what is his conclusion? "All men will be covered with confusion and bo condemned of men and angels " ? Not iJii ^-v CONFESSIONS ^Aj so — "Then shall every man liav3 praise of tlie Lord." Their motives will show better than their deeds.' ' How sweetly the thrushes are singing ! ' said Barbara now ; then — ' So also Eve may be misunderstood.' ' Oh, Miss Jordan ! when I consider what ]\rartin mij,dic have become in better hands, with more gentle and sym- pathetic treatment, it makes my heart bleed. I assure you my boyhood was spent in battling with the fatal influences that surrounded him. At last matters came to a head. Our father wanted to send ]\[artin away to be trained for a preacher, and Martin took the journey money provided liim, and joined a company of players. lie had a good voice, and had been fairly taught to sing. AVhether he had any dramatis talent I can hardly say. After ar absence of a twelvemonth or more he returned, lie was out of his place, and professed penitence. I C .re say ho really was sorry. He remained a while at home, but could not get on with our father, who was determined to have his way with j\Iartin, and Martin was equally resolved not to become a Dissenting minister. To me it was amazing that my father should persevere, because it was obvious that Martin had no vocation for the pastorate ; l)ut my father is a determined man. Having made up his mind , that Martin was to be a preacher, ho would not bo moved from it. In our village a couple of young men resolved to go to America. They were friends of ]\Iartin, and per- suaded him to join them. He asked my fatlicr to give him a fit-out and let him go. But no — the old gentleman was not to be turned from his purpose. Then a tempta- tion came in poor Martin's way, and he yielded to it in a thoughtless moment, or, perhaps, when greatly excited by an altercation with his father. He took the money and ran away.' . . ' He did not go to America ? ' * No, Miss Jordan. He rejoined the same dramatic company with which he had been connected before. That was how he was caught.' n 2 i L ',.1 > 244 EVE yi h I '■ "ii ^1 ' m, '*l V ' And the money ? * ' Some of it was recovered, but what he had done with most of it no one knows ; the poor thriftless lad least of all. I dare say he gave away pounds right and left to all who made out a case of need to him.' Then these two, sitting in the garden perfumed with stocks, heard Eve calling Barbara. ♦ It is nothing,' said Barbara ; ' Eve is iired of polishing her spangles, and so wants me. I cannot go to her now : I must hear the end of your story.' *I was on my way to this place,' Jasper continued, • when I had to pass through Prince's Town. I found my other brother there, Walter, who is also devoted to our poor Martin ; Walter had found means of communicating with his brother, and had contrived plans of escape. He had a horse in readiness, and one day, when the prisoners were cutting turf on the moor, his comrades built a turf- stack round Martin, and the warders did not discover that he was missing till he had made off. Walter persuaded me to remain a day or two in the place to assist in carrying out the escape, which was successfully executed. We got away off Dartmoor, avoided Tavistock, and lost ourselves on these downs, but were making for the Tamar, that wo might cross into Cornwall by bridge or ferry, or by swim- ming our horses ; and then we thought to reach Polperro and send Martin out of the kingdom in any ship that sailed.' • Why did you not tell me this at once, when you came to our house ? ' asked Barbara, with a little of her old sharpness. * Because I did not know you then. Miss Jordan ; I could not be sure that you might be trusted.' She shook her head. ' Oh, Mr. Jasper ! I am not trustworthy. I did betray what I believed to be your secret.' * Your very trustiness made you a traitor,' he answered courteously. ' Your first duty was to your sister.' CONFESSIONS 245 * Why did you allow me to suppose that you were the criminal ? ' * You had found the prison clothes, and at first I sought to screen my brother. I did not know where Martin was ; I wished to give him ample time for escape by diverting suspicion to myself.' * But afterwards ? You ought, later, to have undeceived me,' she said, with a shake in her voice, and a little accent of reproach. ' I shrank from doing that. I thought when you visited Buckfastleigh you would have found out the whole story ; but my father was reticent, and you came away without having learned the truth. Perhaps it was pride, perhaps a lingering uneasiness about Martin, perhaps I felt that I could not tell of my dear brother's fall and disgrace. You were cold, and kept me at a distance ' Then, greatly agitated, Barbara started up. * Oh, Mr. Jasper ! ' she said with quivering voice, ' what cruel words I have spoken to you — to you so generous, so true, so self-sacrificing ! Y''ou never can forgive me ; and yet from the depth of my heart I desire your pardon. Oh, Jasper ! Mr.' — a sob broke the thread of her words — ' Mr. Jasper, when you were ill and unconscious, I studied your face hour after hour, trying to read the evil story of your life there, and all I read was pure, and noble, and true. How can I make you amends for the wrong I have done you I * As she stood, humbled, with heaving bosom and throat choking — Eve came with skips and laugh along the gravel walk. * I have found you ! ' she exclaimed, and clapped her hands. ' And I — and I ' gasped Barbara — ' I have found how I may reward the best of men. There ! there ! ' she .said, clasping Eve's hand and drawing her towards Jasper. ' Take her ! I have stood between you too long ; but, on my honour, only because I thought you unworthy of her.' She put Eve's hand in that of Jasper, then before i I 2aG EVE m i h '! cither liad recovered from the surprise occasioned by hor words and action, she walked back into the house, gravely, with erect head, dignified ag ever. CHAPTER XXXVII. THE I'lPE OF PKACE. Barbara went to her room. She ran up the stairs : her statelincss was gone when she was out of sight. 8ho bolted lior door, threw herself on her knees beside lier bed, and buried her face in the counterpane. 'I am so happy!' she said; but her happiness can hardly have been complete, for the bed vibrated under her weiglit — shook so much that it shook down a bunch of crimson carnations s^'c had stuck under a sacred picture at the head of the bed, and the red flowers fell about her dark hair, and strewed themselves on the counterpane round her head. She did not see them. She did not feel them. If she had been really and thoroughly happy when at last she rose from her knees, her cheeks would not have shone with tears, nor would her handkerchief have been so wet that she hung it out of her window to dry it, and took another from her drawer. Then she went to her glass and brushed her hair, which w^as somewhat rufiled, and she dipped her face in the basin. After that she was more herself. She unlocked her desk and from it took a small box tied round with red ribbon. Within this box was a shagreen case, and in this case a handsome rosewood pipe, mounted in silver. This pipe had belonged to her uncle, and it was one of the little items that had come to her. Indeed, in the division of ftimily relics, she had chosen this. Her cousins had teased her, and asked whether it was intended for her THE PIPE OF PEACE 247 future hiisliaiicl. Slio had made no other reply than that she fancied it, and so she had kept it. When she selected it, she had thought of Jasper. lie smoked occasionally. Possibly, slio thou,L,'ht she miglit some day give it him, ^vhen ho liad proved himself to be truly repentant. Now he was clear from all guilt, she must make him the present — a token of complete reconciliation. She dusted the pretty bowl with her "lean pocket-handkerchief, and looked for the lion and head to make sure that the mounting was real silver. Then she I'lok another look at herself in tlio glass, and came downstairs, carrying the calumet of peace enclosed in its case. She found Jasper silting with Eve on the bench where she had left them. They at onco made way for her. Ho rose, and refused to sit till she had taken his place. 'Mr. Jasper,' she said, and she had regained entire self- command, ' this is a proud and happy day for all of us — for you, for Eve, and for me. I have been revolving in my mind how to mark it and what memorial of it to give to you as a pledge of peace established, misunderstandings done away. I have been turning over my desk as well as my mind, and have found what is suitable. i\Iy uncle won this at a shooting-match. lie was a lirst-rate shot.' 'And the prize,' said Jasper, 'has fallen into hands that make very bad shots.' ' What do you mean ? Oh ! ' Barbara laughed and coloured. ' You led mo into that mistake about yourself.' ' This is the bad shot I mean,' said Jaspor : ' you have brought Tui'^s i^ve here to me, and neither docs Eve want me, nor do I her.' Barbara opened her eyes very wide. • Have you quarrelled?' she inquired, turning to see the faces of Jasper and her sister. Both were smiling with a malicious humour. ' Not at all. We are excellent friends.' * You do not love Eve ? ' ' I like Eve, I love someone c4se.' »! ff^ ! '■:.; i l\ ■ r 1 I- * l\ I"' f (I II IS,..' "I ^^ i I 248 /■v/: The colour rushed into Barbara's face, and then as sud- denly deserted it. AVliat did lie mean ? A sensation of vast happiness o.orspread her, and then ebbed away. Perhaps he loved someone at ]'ucld'astlei^'h. She, plain, (lowini-^'lit Barbara — what was she for such a man as Jas- per liad a|)proved himself? She quickly recovered herself, and said, ' We were talkin.t,' about the pipe.' ' (^)uite so,' answered Jasper. 'Let us return to the pipe. You f,nve it me — your uncle's prize pipe ? ' ' Yes, heartily. I have kept it in my desk unused, as it has been preserved since my uncle's death ; but you must, use it ; and I hope the tobacco will taste nice throuf,di it.' ' Miss Jordan,' said Jasper, ' you have shown me such high honour, that I feel bound to honour the gift in a special manner. I can only worthily do so by promising to -:moke out of no other pipe so long as this renuiins en- tire, and should an accident befall it, to smoke out of no other not repla"ed by your l-iud self.' Eve clapped lier hanus. 'A rash promise,' said J>arl>;ivp.. ' You arc at liberty to recall it. IfJwei\. to die, and the pipe were broken, }uu would be bouna to abjure smoking.' 'If you wore tc lie, de^r Miss Jordan, I should bury the pipe in your grave, and something far more precious than that.' ' What ? ' ' Ctai you ask ? ' lie looked her in the eyes, and again her colour came, deep as the carnations that had strewed her head. ' There, there ! ' he said, ' we will nco talk of graves, and broken pipes, and buried hearts ; v,e will ge,', ilie pipe to work at once, if the ladies do not object.' ' I will run for the tinder-l)ON,' said Eve eagerly. ' I have my amadou and stee! with me, and tobacco,' Jasper observed; 'and mind, Miss Barbara is to consecrate the pipe for ever by drawing out of it the first whiff of smoke,' THE PIPE OE PEACE 249 11 It! Barbara laughed. hJlie would do that. Ilcrlicart was n'ondorfully light, and clear of clouds as that sweet still evening sky. The pipe was loaded ; Eve ran off to the kitchen to i'ctch a stick out of the fire with glowiu'^' end, because, she said, ' she did not like the smell of the burning,' anuidou.' Jasper handed the pipe to l^arbara, who, with an effort to be demure, took it. 'Are you ready?' asked Jasper, who was whirling the stick, making a liery ring in the air. Jjarbara had put the pipe between her lips, precisely in the middle of hor mouth. ' No, that will not do,' said the young man ; ' put the pipe in the side of your mouth. AVhere it is now I cannot light it without burning the tip of your nose.' Barbara put her little finger into the bowl to assure herself that it was full. Eve was on her knees at her sis- ter's feet, her elbows on her lap, looking up amused and delighted. Barbara kept her neck and baik erect, and her chin high in the air. A smile was on her lace, but no tre- mor in lier lip. Eve burst into a fit of laughter. *0h, Bab, you look so unspeakably droll ! ' ]>ut JJarbara did not laugh and let go the pipe, ller hands were down on the bench, one on each side of her. fSlie might have been sitting in a dentist's chair to have a tooth drawn, blie was a little afraid of the consequences ; nevertheless, she had undertaken to smoke, and smoke she would— one whiff, no more. ' Ready ? ' asked Jasper. She could not answer, because her lips grasped the pipe with all the muscular force of which they were capable. She replied by gravely and slowly bowing her head. ' This is our calumet of peace, is it not, Miss Jordan ? A lasting peace never to be broken — never '? ' She replied again only by a serious bow, head and pipe going down and coming up again. * Beady ? ' Jasper brought the red-hot coal in contact "^ 1 r ♦jI M 250 Rvr. ^ ' ^1 w with the tobacco in the bowl. Tlic glow kindled Barbara' j face. She drew a long, a conscientiously long, breath. Then her brows went up in query. * Is it alight ? ' asked Eve, interpreting the question. * Wait a moment Yes,' answered Jasper. Then a long spiral of white smoke, like a jet of steam from a kettle that is boiling, issued from Barbara's lips, and rose in a perfect white ring. Her eyes followed the rnig. -bang ! and again- hang ! — the dis- h t that moment charge of firearms. The pipe fell into her lap. * What is that ? ' asked Eve, springing to her feet. They all hurried out of tlie garden, and stood in front of the house, looking up and down the lane. ' Stay here and I will sec,' said Jasper. * There may be poachers near.' ' In pity do not leave us, or I shall die of fear,' cried Eve. The darkness had deepened. A few stars were visible. Voices were r/adibie, and the tread of men in the lane. Then Iranian figures were visible. It was too dark at first to distinguish who they were, and the suspense was great. As, however, they drew nearer, Jasper and the girls saw that the party consisted of Joseph, the warder, and a couple of constables, leading a prisoner. ' We have got him,' said Joseph Woodman, ' the right man at last.' ' Whom have you got ? ' asked Barbara. ' Whom ! — wliy, the escaped felon, Martin Labb,* bi cry. Eve had fainted. % m '« fii TAKEN! 2SI CHAPTER XXXVIII. dis- TAKEN ! We must go back in time, something like an hour and a half or two hours, and follow the police nnd warders after they left Morwell, to understand how it happened that Martin fell into their hands. They had retired sulky and grumbling. They had been brought a long way, the two warders a very long way, for nothing. When they reached the down, one of the warders observed that he was darned if he had not turned his ankle on the rough stones of the lane. The other said he reckoned tliey had been shabbily treated, and it was not his ankle but his stomach had been turned by a glass of cider sent down into emptiness. Some cold beef and bread was what he wanted. Whereat he was snapped at by the other, who advised him to kill one of the bullocks on the moor and make his meal on that. ' Hearken,' said Joseph ; * brothers, an idea has struck me. We have not captured the man, and so wo shan't have the rcAvard.' ' Has it taken you half an hour to discover that ? ' * Yes,' answered Joseph simply. * Thinking and digesting are much the same. I ain't a caterpillar that can eat and digest at once.' ' I wish I'd had another glass of cider,' said one of the constables, ' but these folk seemed in a mighty haste to get rid of us.' ' There is the " Hare and Hounds " at Goatadon,' said Joseph. * That is a long bit out of the road,' remonstrated tho constable. * What is time to us police ! ' answered Joseph. ' It ig made to be killed, like a tiea.' ' And hops away as fast,' said another. ':m W% '!it V\ 11! '!' :^ ;| -' 2 !»2 ^TFJi * Let us get back to Tavistock,' said a ^varder. * Oh, if you wish it,' answered Joseph ; * only it do seem a cruel pity.' * What is a pity ? ' * Why, that you should ha' come so far and not seen the greatest wonder of the world.' * What may that be ? ' * The fat woman,' answered Joseph Woodman. * The landlady of the " Hare and Hounds." You might as well l^'o to Egypt and not see the pyramids, or to Eome and not see the Pope, or to London and not see the Tower.' * I don't make any account of fat women,' said the warder, who had turned his ankle. ' But this,' argued Joseph, ' is a regular marvel. She's the fattest woman out of a caravan— I believe the fattest ill England ; I dare say the very fattest in the known world. What there be in the stars I can't say.' * Now,' said the warder, who had turned his stomach, ' what do yotc call fat ? ' He was in a captious mood. * What do I call fat ? ' repeated Joseph ; * why, that woman. Brother, if you and I were to stretch our arms at the farthest, taking hold of each other with one hand, we couldn't compass her and take hold with the other.' * I don't believe it,' said the warder emphatically. * 'Tain't possible a mortal could be so big,' said the other warder. * I swear it,' said Joseph with great earnestness. * There is never a woman in the world,' said the warder with the bad ankle, ' whose waist I couldn't encircle, and I've tried lots.' * But I tell you this woman is out of the common altogether.' * Have you ever tried ? ' sneered the warder with the bad stomach. ' No, but I've measured her with my eye.' * The eye is easy deceived as to distances and dimen- TAKEN! Why, Loil bless vou! I'v 253 fog a sheep sions on the moor look as big as a hippopotamus.' ' But the landlady is not on the moor nor in a persisted Joseph. *I bet you half-a-guinca, laid out in drink, that 'tis as I say.' ' Done ! ' said both warders. ' Done ! ' said the con- stables, and turniiig to their right, tliey went off to the ' Hare and Ilouiids,' two miles out of their way, to see the Hit woman and tost hor dimensions. Now this change in the destination of the party led to the capture of Martin, and to the wounding of the warder who complained of his stomach. The party reached the little tavern — a poor country inn built where roads crossed — a wretched house, tarred over its stone face as protection against the driving rains. They entered, and the hostess cheerfully consented to having her girth tested. She was accustomed to it. Her fatness was part of her stock-in-trade : it drew customers to the * Hare and Plounds ' who otherwise would have gone on to Beer Alston, where was a pretty and pert maid. Whilst the officers were refreshing themselves, and one warder had removed his boot to examine his ankle, the door of the room where they sat was opened and Martin came in, followed by Watt. His eyes were dazzled, as the room was :^rongiy lighted, and he did not at first observe who were euting and drinking there. It was in this lonely inn that he and Walter were staying and believed them- selves quite safe. A few miners wero the only persons they met there. As Martin stood in Uie doorway looking at tlio party, whilst his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, one of the warders started up. ' That is he ! Take him ! Our man ! ' Instantly all sprang to their feet except Joseph, who was leisurely in all his movements, and the warder with bare foot, without considering fully what ho did, threw his boot at Martin's heai. I M !54 EVE n i Martin turned at once and ran, and the men dashed out of the inn after him, hoth warders catching up their guns, and he who was bootless running, forgetful of his ankle, •with bare foot. The niglit was light enougli for Martin to be seen, with the boy running beside him, across the moor. The fires were sti 1 flickering and glowing ; the gorse had been burnt and so no bushes could be utilised as a screen. His only chance c*^ escape was to reach the woods, and ho ran for ]\Iorwell. But Martin, knowing that there were fire-arms among his pursuers, dared not run in a direct line ; he swerved from side to side, and dodged, to make it difficult for them to ia,ke aim. This gave great facilities to the warder who had both boots on, and who was a wiry, long-legged fellow, to gain on Martin. ' Halt ! ' shouted he, * halt, or I fire ! ' Then Martin turned abruptly and discharged a pistol at him. The man staggered, but before he fell he fired at Martin, but missed. Almost immediately Martin saw some black figures in front of him, and stood, hesitating what to do. The figures \> ere those of boys who were spreading the fires among the furze bushes, but he thought that his course was inter- cepted by his pursuers. ]3efore he had decided where to run he was surrounded and disarmed. The warder was so seriously hurt that he was at once placed on a gate and carried on the shoulders of four of the constables to ])cer Alston, to be examined by Mr. Coyshe and the ball extracted. This left only three to guard the prisoner, one of whom was the warder who had sprained his ankle, and had been running with that foot bare, and who was now not in a condition to go much farther. • There is nothing for it,' said Joseph, who was highly elated, * but for us to go on to Morwell. We must lock the chap up there. In that old house there are scores of TAKEX ! 25; strong places wlicro tlio monks were imprisoned. To- morrow Ave can take liini to Tavistock.' Joseph did not so-y that Jane Welsli was at ^Morwell ; this consideration, doubtless, had something to do with determining the arrangement. On reaching ^lorwell, which they did almost at once, for Martin had been captured on the down near the entrance to the lane, the first inquiry was for a safe place where the prisoner might be bestowed. Jane, hearing the noise, and, above all, the loved voice of Joseph, ran out. * Jane,' said the policeman, ' whore can we lock the rascal up for the night ? ' She considered for a moment, and then suggested the corn-chamber. That was over tlie cellar, the walls lined with slate, and the floor also of slate. It had a stout oak door studded with nails, and access was had to it from the quadrangle, up a flight of stone steps. There was no window to it. 'I'll go ask Miss Barbara for the key,' she said. ' There is nothing in it now but some old onions. But ' — she paused — * if ho be locked up there all night, he'll smell awful of onions in the morning.' Beassured that tliis was of no importance, Jane went to her mistress for the key. Barbara came out and listened to the arrangement, to which she gave her consent, coldly. The warder could now only limp. She was shocked to hear of the other having been shot. A lack of hospitality had been shown when the con- stables and warders came first, through inadvirtc^nce, not intentionally. Now that they desired to remain the night at Morwell and guard there the prisoner, Barbara gave orders that they should bo made comfortable in the hall. One would have to keep guard outside the door wlioro Martin was confined, the other two would spend the night in the hall, the window of which connnanded the court and the stairs that led to the corn-chamber. ' I won't Iiave the men in the kitchen,' said Barbara, • or the maids I M M % ! n 256 EVE % \ I i '< i m ' III rii' *«. al.t ^Mt 1 1 will lose their lieada and nothing will be done.' Besides, the kitchen was out of the way of the corn-chamber. * We shall want the key of the corn-store,' said Joseph, * if we may have it, miss.' ' Why not stow the fellow in the cellar ? ' asked a constable. ' For two reasons,' answered Joseph. ' First, because he would drink the cider; and second, because — no olTeiico meant, miss — we hope that tlie maids '11 be going to and fro to the cellar with the pitcher pretty often.' Joseph was courting the maid of the house, and there- fore thought it well to hint to ]>arbara what was expected of the house to show that it was free and open. The corn-room was unlocked, a light obtained, and it was thoroughly explored. It was floored with large slabs of slate, and the walls were lined six feet high with slate, as a protection against rats and mice. Joseph proggcd the walls above that. All sound, not a window. lie examined the door : it Avas of two-inch oak plank, and the hinges of stout iron. In the corner of the room was a heap of onions that had not been used the preceding winter. A bundle of straw was procured and thrown down. ' Lie there, you dog, you murderous dog ! ' said one of the men, casting Martin from him. ' Move at your peril ! ' • Ah ! ' said the lame warder, ' I only wish you would make another attempt to escape that I might give you a leaden breakfast.' lie limped badly. In running he had cut his bare foot and it bled, and he had trodden on the prickles of the gorse, which had made it very painful. ' There's a heap of onions for your pillow,' said Joseph. • Folks say they are mighty helpful to sleep — ' this was spoken satirically ; tlien with a moral air — ' But, sure enough, there's no sleeping, even on an onion pillow, without a good conscience.' As the men were to spend the night without sleep — TAKEN! = 57 one out of doors, to be relieved guard by the other, tlio lame warder alone excused the duty, as lie was unable to walk — Ijarbara ordered a fire to be li '- *;. : ill 1 fi , Ii CIIAPTEU XXXIX. GONE ! Nfitiier Jaspor, ]5ai'bam, nor l^vn iip]H\'irf:(l. Mr. Jordan "was excited, ami liad to l>c (old ^\lmt had taken ])laee, and tliij^ liad to be done; by .lasju'i-. I'.avbara Avas Avitli lier sifter. I'-vc bad i-eeovercd, and ]iad eonirsscd everytllin<,^ Now all "Nvas clear to tlic eyes of ]^>arbara. Tlio nieetin.t,' on tlio Ivavcn Jiock bad l)(iii tbe one incxi)li{'able point, and now tbat was e\])]aiii((l. i',\(' bid notbini: from lier sister; slie told ber about llic first meeting' with ^Martin, bis taldn,LC tbo rin.Gj, tben about tbe .^dviiif,' of tbe turquoise rin.c:, finally about tlu^ meeting,' on tbe Rock. Tbe story was disquieting:, b've bad been vei'y foolisb. ''J'lie only satisfaction to J'Jarbara was Ibe ibouj^dit tbat t1i(? cause of inicasincss was I'eniovcib ;;n J alifiut to be ])ut beyond tlu> power of doing fni'tber niisrliicf. live would never see ]\birtin a,!j;ain. Sbe bad s(>en so little of bini tbat be could bavo jirodueed on ber bcart but a, liijflit and transient ini- ])ression. ^rb(> romancr of (lie alTair bad l)een tbe main cbarm witb Yaw Wben .Tasp(M' left llic sipiirc's room, aftei- a scene tbat bad been i)ainful, Darbara eame to bim and said, ' 1 know (n'erytbinLi,' now. b'.vc nut youi' brotber ?;[artin on tbe liaven liock. ![(> ba-; lucn trying to win ber alfections. In this also you bave been wrongly accused by me.' Tben witli a faint laugb, but witb a timid entreating look, ' I can do no more tlian confess now, I bave such a beavy burdtm of amends to make' ' AVill it be a burden, Uarbara ? ' 8be put ber band ligbtly on bis arm. ' No, eTasper — a delight.' IIo stooped and kissed ber b:ind. Little or nothing GOMi / 259 liacl passed between tliem, yot tliey nndcrstood each otiier. 'Hist! for shame I ' said a slinrp voice through the pardeii window. Slio lonlccd and saw the queer face of Watt. * That is too cruel, Jasp — love-iuakinj^' when our poor Martin is in dan,!:,'er ! I did not ex]K'ct it of you.' Barbara was confused. The hoy'H face could ill be discerned, as tliere was no candle in the room, and all the light, sucli as there v>as — a silvery summer twilight — flowed in at the window, and was intercepted by his head. ' Selfish, Jasp ! and you, miss — if you are going to enter the family, you should begin to consider other mem- bers than Jasper,' continued tliti boy. All his usual mockery was gone from his voice, which expressed alarm and anxiety. ' There lies poor ]\Iartin in a stone box, on a little straw, without a mouthful, and his keepers aro given what they like ! ' 'Oh, Jasper!' said Barbara with a start, 'I am so ashamed of myself. I forgot to provide for him.' ' You have not considered, I presume, what will become of poor Martin. In self-defence he shot at a warder, and whether he wounded or Idlled him I. camiot say. Boor Martin! Seven years will be spread into fourteen, per- haps twenty-one. What will he be when he comes out of prison I What shall I do all these years without him ! ' ' Walter,' said Jasper, going to the window, and speak- ing in a subdued voice, ' what can be done ".' 1 am sorry enough for him, but I can do nothing.' ' Oh, you will not try.' ' Tell me, what can I do ? ' 'There! let licr,' he pointed to ]3arbara, * let her come over here and speak with me. Everything now depends on her.' * On me ! ' exclaimed Barbara. * Ah, on you. But do not shcut. I can hear if you s 2 I % U . 1! 260 la'E m It M '! if ll m y, t ■''' Di whisper. ]\riF53, tliat poor fellow in tlic stone box is Jasper's brother. Ifyoucaro at all I'or Jasper, you will not interfere. I do nut ask you to move a luif,'er to hel[) Martin : I ask vou only not to stnr.d in others' way.' ' ^Vhilt do you mean •.' ' * Go into the hall, you and Jasper, instead of standiii!^ Fif^hin;.^ and billing here. Allow nie to be there also. There are two more men ai'rived — two of those who car- ried the winged snipe away. That makes four inside and one outside ; but one is lamed nnd without his boot. Feed them all well. Don't spare eider ; and give them spiiils- andwater. Help to annise them.' 'For wJiat end? ' ' That is no concern of yours. For what end! Hos- pitality, the most ancient of virtues. Above all, do not interfere with the ot] one.' * What other one ? ' ' You know — Miss Eve,' whispered the boy. • Let tlio maidens in, the housemaid certainly ; she has a sv/eetheart among them, and the others will nuike pickings.' Then, without waiting for an answer, the queer boy ran along the gravel path and leaped the dwarf wall into the stable ;:ird, which lay at a lower level. ' What does he mean ? ' asked Jiarbara, ' lie means,' said Jasper, ' that he is going to make an attempt to get poor Martin olL' ' ]>ut how can he ? ' 'That I do not know.' * And whether we ought to assist in such a venture I do not know,' sai '. J3arbara thoughtfuUv. ' Nor do I,' said Jasper ; • my heart says one thing, my 1 ead the other.' ' We will follow our hearts,' said Barbara vehemently, an'i caught his hands and pressed them. ' Jasper, he is your brother ; with me that is a chief consideration. Conio into the hall ; we will give the men some music' Jasper and Barbara went to the hall, and found that GOXE ? !6l the warder had his foot bimdn^'id in a cluiir, and scomod to bo in great pain, lie Avas swearing at the constabloji \\ho had conic from l>eer Alston for not liaving called at the ' Hiiro and Hounds' on their way for his boot. Ho tried tu induce one of them to go back for it; but the sight of the fire, the jugs of cider, the plates heaped \\'\\\\ cake, made them unwilling again lo leave the house. ' Wo ain't a-going witliout our supper,' v/as their re- tort. ' You are comfortable enough here, with plenty to cat and to drink.' ' lUit,' complained tlio man, 'leant go fur ni^ boot myself, (lon't you see ? ' But see they would not. Jano had forgotten all her duties about the houso in the excite- ment of having her Voscph there. She had stolen into tho h n, and got her policeman into a corner. ' When is it your turn to keep guard, Joe ? ' she asked. * Not for another horn*,' he replied. * I wish I hadiit to go Git at all.' ' Oh, Joe, I'll go and keep guard with you ! ' Also tho coo]{ stole in with a bowl and a sponge, and a strong savour of vinegar. She had come to batho the warder's foot, unsolicited, moved only by a desire to do good, doubtless. Also the nnder-houscinaid's beady eyes were visible at the door looking in to see if more fuel wero required for the fire. Clearly, there was no need for liarbara to summon her maids. As a dead camel in tho desert attracts all the vultures witliin a hundred miles, so tho presence of these men in the hall drew to them all the voung women in the house. When they saw their mistress enter, they exhibited some hesitation. Barbara, however, gave them a nod, and more was not needed to encourage them to stay. ' Jane,' said Barbara, ' h^ re is the key. Fetch a couple of bottles of Jamaica rum, or one of rum and one of brandy. Patience,' to the under-housemnid, 'bring liot water, sugar, tumblers, and spoons.' '1 i\ \\\} If ^! =^ I ■■! J. ii h I '■ hi «1 263 ^F7i A tlirill of delight passed through tlio hearts of tho men, and tlicir eyes sparkled. I'heii hi at the door came tho boy with his violin, fiddling, naperinp, dancing, making faces. In a moment ho sprang on the table, seated himself, and began to play Komo of tho pretty ' Don (iiovanni ' dance music. Ho signed to Darbara uith his bow, and pointed to tho piano in the parlour, the door of ■which was open. Sho understood him and went in, lit tho candles, and took a ' Don (iiovanni ' which her sister had bought, and prac- tised with Jasper. Then he signed to his brother, and Jasper also took down his violin, tuned it, and began to play. ' Let us bring tho piano into thu liall/ said Uarbara, and the men started to fullil her wish. Four of them con- veyed it from tho parlour. At tho same time the rum and hot water appeared, the spoons clinked in the glasses. .Vatienco, tho under-housoniaid, threw a faggot on tho fire. * What is that?' exclaimed the lame warder, pointing through the window. It Avas only the guard, who had extended his march to tho hall and put his face to the glass to look in at the brew of rum-and-water, and the comfortable party about the fire. ' Go back on your beat, you scoundrel ! ' shouted the warder, menacing the constable with his fist. Then the face disappeared ; but every time the sentinel reached the hall window, he applied his nose to the pane and stared ill thirstily at the grog that steamed and ran down tho throats of his comrades, and cursed the duty that kept him without in the falling dew. His appearance at intervals at the glass, where the fire and candlelight illumined his face, was like that of a fish rising to the surface of a pond to breathe. * Is your time come yet outside, Joe dear ? ' whispered Jane. 'Hope not,' growled Joseph, helping himself freely to rum; putting his hand round tho tumbler, so that none GONE/ 363 mi^'lit ol)sc'rvo liow Jii.^li tiio bpiriL stood in tlio ghissi boforo hu added tlio ^Vlltl'l•. ' Oil, Joo duckio, don't s;iy that. I'll go and keep you company on the stono stepn : avc'U sit there in the moon- light nil iilone, as sweet i\^ anything.' ' You couldn't ckal this grog,' answered tin; unromantic Joseph, ' if you was ever so swtct. I've put in four lumpa of douhle-relnu d.' ' You've a swiH.'t tooth, .loe,' said Jane. ' Shiill I bathe your poor suffering foot again '?' asked the coolv, casting languisliing eyes at tiie warder. ']5y-afid-by, when ihi; li([Uor is exhausted,' answered till! warder. ' Would you like a little more hot water to tlm snivit '} ' said Patience, v/ho was setting— as it is termed in danco phraseology — at the youngest of the constables. 'No, miss, but I'd trouble you for a little more spirit,' he answered, 'to (qualify the hot water.' Then the seullery-niaid, who had also found her way in, blocked the otiur c(jnslable in the corner, and offered to sugar his rum. lie was a married nuui, middle-aged, and with a huge disfiguring mole on his nose; but there was no one else for the ilamscl to ogle; and address, ho she lixed upon him. All at once, whilst thi,; by-[ilay was going on, under cover of the nmsic, the door from the staircase opened, and in sprang I'lve, with her tambourine, dressed in tho red-and-vellow costume she had found in tho garret, and ■wearing her burnished necklaces of bezants. Barbara withdrew her hands from the piano in disma and flushed with shame. ' Kve ! ' she exclaimed, 'go back! IIow can you!' l>ut the boy from the tai)1e beclioncd again to her, point- ing to the piano, and hei- lingers ; I'he ski[)[)ed up to her and whispered, ' i^et: me alone, for Jasper's sake,' then bounded into the middle of the hall, and rattled her tambourine and clinked its jingles. . Ill I .h| an m it'. m Fl' ■u I \\ 4 . 1 •ii B •■ "Ii I Ill 1 1 T , r ! 264 £Ti? The men applaiulctl, and tossed off their rum-and- watcr ; tlicn, having finished the rum, mixed themselves eagerly hoi jorums of brandy. The face was at the window, with the nose flat and wliito n,i,'ainst the glass, like 'i dab of putty. ]>arl)ara's forehead darkened, and she drew her lips together. Her conscience was not satisfied. She suspected tliat this behaviour of Kve was what Walter had alluded to wlien he bogged her not to interfere. Walter had seen YiXQ, and planned it with her. Was she right, Barbara asked herself, in what she was doing to help a criminal to escape ? The money he had taken was theirs — Eve's ; and if ViXii chose to forgive him and release him from his punish- ment, why should she object? ]\[artin was the brother of Jasper, and for Jasper's sake she must go on with what she had begun. So she put her fingers on the keys again, and at once ^\'att and Jasper resumed their instruments. They played tlie music in ' J3on Gio^'anni,' in the last act, where the l)annuet is interrupted by the arrival of the statue. Bar- bara knew that l^ve was dancing alone in the middle ol the floor before these men, before him also who ought to be pacing up and down \\\ front of the corn-chamber ; but she would not turn her h«,-ad over her shoulder to look at her, and her brow Murnt, and her cheeks, usually pale, flamed. As for lv>e, she was supremely happy; the applause of the lookers-on encouraged her. Her move- ments were graceful, her beauty radiant. She looked like Zerlina on the boards. Suddenly the boy dropped his bow, and before anyone could arrest his hand, or indeed had a suspicion of mischief, he threw a canister of gunpowder into the blazing fire. Instantly there was an explosion. The logs were flung about the floor, Eve and the maids screamed, the piano mid viohns were hushed, doors were burst open, panes of GONE I 265 lips glass broken and fell clinkiiii!:, and every candle was ex- tinguished. Fortunately the hall lloor "svas of slate. I'he men were the fh'st to recover tlicmselve.s — all, that IS, hut tl'O warder, who shrieked and swore because a red- hot cinler had ali'dited on his bad foot. The logs were thrust together again upon the hearth, and a flame sprang up. No one was hurt, but in tlio doorway, white, with wild eyes, stood Mr. .Jordan, signing with his hand, but unable to speak. 'Oh, papa! dear papa!' exclaimed Barbara, running to him, 'do go back to bed. No one is hurt. We have had a fright, that is all.' 'Fools!' cried the old man, brandishing his stick. 'He is gone ! I saw him — ho ran past my window.' CHAPTER XL. ANOTIIEK SACRIFICE. Watt was no longer in the hall. "Whither lie had gone none knew ; how he had gone none knew. Tho man in the quadrangle was too alarmed by the glass panes being blown out in his face, to see whether the boy had passed that way. Dut, indeed, no one now gave thought to Watt; tiie men ran to the corn-chamber to examine it. A lantern was lighted, the door examined and found to be locked. It was unfastened, and Joseph and the rest entered. ^Flie light penetrated every corner, fell on the straw and tlie onion-heap. Martin ])abb Wiis not there. 'May I be darned!' exclaimed Joseph, holding the lantern over his head. 'I looked at tlie walls, at th(! floor, at the door : I never thought of the roof, and it is bv the roof he has got away.' Indeed, the corn-chamber was nnceiled. Martin, < #1(1 m pi^'^ii s 1 # ■• (if I '11' Pi, h Mi r- 20t> EVE possibly assisted, liud readied tlio I'aflois, thence had crept along the :.'oof in the attics, and had entered the rooni that beloiij^ed to tlie ,u;irls, and descended from the Avindow by tlie old Jar,i,'onelle pear. Then the constables ai;d .Joseph turned on the sentinel, and heaped abuse upon him for not havin.L,' warned them of -what was gohig on. It was in vain for him to protest tliat from the outside ho could not detect what was in process of execution under the roof. J'.hime must attach to someone, and he was one against four. Their tempers were not the more placiible when it was seen that the bottle of brandy had been upset and was empty, the precious spirit having expended itself on the iloor. Then the question was mooted whether the fugitive should not be ])ursued at once, but the production by J>arbara of another bottle of rum decided them not to do so but await the arrival of morning. Suddenly it occui'- red to Joseph tliut tlie blame attached, not to any of those present, who had done their utmost, but to tiie warder who had been sliot, and so had detached two of their number, and had reduced the body so considerably by this fatality as to iiieapacitate them from drawing a cordon round the house and watching it from every side. If that warder were to die, then the whoh* blame might bo shovelled upon him along w itii the earth into his grave. The search was rec(unmenced next day, but was in- effectual, hi whi(di dii'ection Martin liad gone could not be found. Absolutely no traces of him could be discovered. Presently i\Ir. ('oysiie : irived, ia a state of great ex- citement. Ho had attendeil tbe ANouiuled mm, and had hoard an account of the capture; on his way to Morwell tl ■. rumour reached him tliat the man had bi'oken away again. Mr. Coyshe had, as he put it, an inquiring mind. He thirsted for Ivnowledge, whellier of scientific or of social interest.. Indeed, he look a lively intere^^t in other m A NO TIIER SA CRIFICF. 1G7 jitivc people's affairs. So lie came on foot, us hard as ho could Avalk, to ^lorwell, to learn all particulars, and at the same time pay a professional visit 10 ]\Ii-. .Jordan. IJarbara at once asked Mr. Coyshe into the parlour ; she wanted to have a ^vord Avith hiui before he sew her lather. Barbara was very uneasy about \\yv, -whoso frivolity, lack of ballast, and want — as sho feared— of proper self- respect might lead her into mischief. Jlow could her sister have been so foolish as to dress up and dance last evening before a parcel of connuon. constables ! "J'o r)arbara such conduct was inconceivable. She herself was dignified and stiff with her inferiors, and would as soon have thought of acting before them as I'^ve had done as of jumping over tlie moon. She did not consider how her own love and that of her father had fostered caprice and vanity in the young girl, till she craved for notice and admiration. r>ar- bara thought over all that b^ve had told her : how she had lost her mother's ring, how she had received the ring of turquoise, how she had met ^Martin on the liock platform. Every incident proclaimed to lier iniiid the instability, the lack of self-respect, in her sister. The girl needed 10 bo Avatched and put into lirnier hands. She and her father had spoiled her. Now that the mischief was done she saw it. What better step con Id Ik; taken to rectify the mistake than that of bringing Mr. Coyshe to an engagement with Eve? She was a striiigbiroi'uanl, even blunt, gii'l, and when she had an aim in vie'w wuit to her work at once. So, without beating aljout th'i bush, she said to I Ik; young doctor — ' Mr. Coyshe, you did nu; the honour the other day of confiding to me your attachnuMit to l^ve. 1 ha,ve been considering it, and I want to know whether you intend at once to speak to lu!r. 1 told my father your wishes, and he is, 1 believe, not indisposed to forward tlu ni.' •r '%,i *■/, |i ii V f*4 1 ii " ' 1 ,.|K Ifc il n' ■• :M^ li'l^ if mn c6S £•?'£• ' I am Jc'liglitc'd to hear it,' said the surgeon ; * I ^vould Hko above evcrytliing to have the matter settled, but ]\Iiss Eve never gives me a chance of speaking to her ulonc.' * She is shy,' said Barbara ; then, thinking that this Avas not exactly true, she corrected herself ; ' that is to say — she, as a young girl, shrinks from what she expects is coming from you. Can you wonder ? ' ' I don't see it. I'm not an ogre.' ' Girls have feelings -whieli, pevhaps, men cannot com- prehend,' said Barbara. ' I do not wish to be precipitate,' observed the young surgeon. ' 1"11 take a chair, please, and then I can explain to you fi.dly my circumstances and my difliculties.' lie suited his action to his word, and graciously signed to ])arbara to sit on tlie sofa near his cliair. Then he put his hat between his fer\ ^almlv took olY his gloves and threw them into his hat. ' I hate precipitation,' said ]\Ir. Coyshe. * Let us thoroughly understand each otlier. I am a poor man. ]^xcuse me, Miss Jordan, if I talli in a practical manner. You are long and clear headed, so— but I need not tell you that — so am I. We can comprehend each other, and for a moment lay aside that veil of romance and poetry which invests an engagement.' Barbara bowed. ' An atmosphere surrounds a matrimonial alliance ; let us pulV it away for a moment i.nd look at the bare facts. Seen from a poetic standpoint, marriage is the union of two loving hearts, the rapture of two souls discovering each other. From the sober ground of common sense it means two loaves of br(\ul a day instead of one. a milliners bill at the end of the year in addition to that of the tailor, two tons of coals where one liad sufliced. I need not tell you, being a prudent person, that v, hiMi I am out for the dav mv lire is not lii^dited. If I li;'l a w tie ui course a fire ay my would have to burn all day. I nn J .<. ■•t .^:iv lUi matri- A A XO Til ^7V SA CRIPICE 269 niony means throe to^s of co..! instead of one, and yon lino^v how costly coals come licre.' ' But, Mr. Covshc ' ' Excuse me,' he said, ' I aiay bo plain, but I am truth- ful. I am putting matters before you in the ^vay in ^vhicll I am forced to view them mvself. ^Vhen an ordinary in- dividual looks on a beautiful Avoman ho sees only lur beauty. 1 sec^ more ; I anatomise her mentally, and fol- low the bones, and nerves, and veins, and muscles. Ho with this lovely n.intrimonial prospect. I see its charms, but I see also wliut lies beneath, the anatomy, so to speak, and that means increased coal, butcher's, baker's bills, three times the v,-ashin,L,% additioiuil milliners' accounts.' ' You know, ]Mr. Coyshe,' said liai'bara, a little startled at the way he put matters, ' you know that cvrntually j\Iorwell comes to hive.' ' ]My Clear ^liss Jordan, if a man walks in s-tocking soles, expecting his fatlicr-in-law's shoes, he is likely to go limpingly. liow am T to live so long as ^Mr. Jordan lives '.* I know I should llourish after his death — but in the mean time — there is the rub. I'd m:irry Eve to-morrow but for the expense.' ' Is there not something sordid ' began Barbara. ' I will not allow _\ou to iinish a senten'-e, Miss Jordan, which your good sense will reproach you for uttering. I saw at a fair a booth with outside a picture of a mermaid combii'g her golden hair, and with the face of an an.gel. I paid twopence and went inside, to behold a seal flopping in a tub of dirty water. All the great ev* ts of life — birth, marriage, death — are idealised by poets, as that dis- gusting seal was idealised on the canvas by the artist : horrible tl.ungs in themselves but inevitable, and tlierefore to be faced as Avell as we may. I need not have gone in and seen that seal, but I was deluded to do so by the idtail picture.' ' Surely,' exclaimed Barbara laughing, 'you put mar- riage in a false light ? ' V^ :;?■! '1»u %\ ■l-l )f; 270 rA'R 1: ' Not a bit. In almost every case it is as is described, a delusion and a liorriblo disencliantnient. It shall not be so Avitli me, so I ])icturo it in all its real features. If you do not understand mo the fault lies Avitli you. Even the blessed sun cannot illumine a room ^vhen the panes of tlie window are dull. I am a poor man, and a poor man nnist look at matters from what you are pleased to speak of as a sordid point of view. There are plants I have seen sus- pended in windows said to livr on air. They are all pendulous. Now I am not disposed to become a droopiiiL^ plant. Liv(f on air I cannot, "^riiere is enout^'h earth in my pot for my own roots, but for my own alone.' 'I see,' said Barbara, lauf^diiug, but a little irritated. ' You are ready enough to marry, but have not the means on which to marry.' ' I'xaetly,' answei'ed ^Ir. Coyshe. ' I have a magnificent future before mc,but I am lilve a man swimming, who sees the land but does not touch as mucli as would blacken his nails. Lord bles'^. you ! ' said ]\Ir. Coyshe, ' I support a wife on what I get at Ijeer Alston ! ]jord bless me ! ' he stood up and sat down again, ' you might as well expect a cock to lay eggs.' Barbara, bit her lips. * I should not have thought you so practical,' slie saiil. ' I am forced to be so. It is the fate of poor men to have to count their coppers. I'hen there is anotlier matter. If I were married, well, of course, it is possible that I might 1)0 the foundfr of a ha[)py family. In the South Sea Islands the natives send their jjarcnts ])eriodically up trees and then shako the trunks. If the old people hold on they are reprieved, if they fall they are eaten. We eat our parents in I'higland also, and don't wait till they are old ami leathei-y. AVe begin with them when we are babes, and ncNcr leave off till nothing is h*ft of them to devour. A\'e feed on their energies, consume their sub- stance, their time, their brains, their hearts piecemeal,' 'Weill' I A .\ \ 1 TIIER .SV / L nil ICE 71 *Woll,' rcpoatcil ]\rr. Coy.';]i(\ 'if I am to bo ('atcu I must have llesli on my bono:^ for tlw comin;; Coyslics to cat.' ' You 11(0(1 not bo alarmed as to tlio prospfct,' said Barbara ,L;ravcly. ' [ Imvc been left a iuw hundred pouud.s by my aunt, they briii;^ in about iifty pounds a year. I will make it over to my sister.' ' You see for yourself,' s:iid Viw Coysbc, ' lli;it Eve is not a youi!"- ladv wbo can be niadi" into a sort of house- keeper. Slie is too dainty for tliat. ^riin!i[)s may bo loss-cd about, but not apricots.' 'Yes,' s;iid l!;irbarii, *! and my sister arc (piite dif- {y I'ent.' ' ^'oii will not rcpiiit of tliis dt.'tcrmiiiation ? ' aslccd Mr. Coyslie. ' I su]i[)()S(' it Vvould not bo askiiiu: you too much just to drop nic a letter \\\\\\ the expression of your intention stated in it? 1 confess to a weakness for blaclv and white. The mcinoi'y is so iKiicherous, and I t'liul it very lilvo jui adhesiw elu st plaster — it sti'darbara,' said ]''vo, wilh great emphasis, ' nothing in the world would induce me to submit to bo called Mrs. Squash.' ' My dear, if the name is ihc only objection, I think he will not mind changing it. Indeed, it is oidy proper that lie should. As he and you will have Morwell, it is of course right that a Jordan should be here, and -to please the Duke and you — he will, I feel sure, gladly assume our name. I agree with you that, though Coyshe is not a bad name, it is not a pretty one. It lends itself to corruption.' * r>abb is worse,' said K\e, still sulky. ' Yes, darling, ]]abb is ugly, and it is the pet name you give me, as short for ]>arbara. I have often told you that I do not like it.' ' You never said a word against it till Jasper came.' ' Well, dear, I may not have done so. When he did settle here, and we knew his name, it was not, of course, seemly to call me by it. That is to say,' said Barbara, colouring, ' it led to confusion — in calling for me, for in- stance, he might have thought you were addressing him.' 'Not at all,' said Eve, still tilled with a perverse spirit. T n, v: ^*ai f\ 874 EVE m' 1 Hi-. fifl'f t! >l|f I ''IK 4 IJ:. 4 f ' I never called him TJabb iit all, I ahvays callorl him Jasper.' Then she took up Iier little apron and pulled at the embroidered ends, and twisted and tortured them into liorns. * It would bo queer, sister, if vou were to marry Jasper, you would become double ]'>abl).' 'Don't,' exelaimed ]5arbara, bridlin^^ ; 'this is lui- ■worthy of you. Eve ; you are tryinj? to turn your arni,5 against me, when I am attacking you.' ' ]May I not defend myself?' Then IJarbara drew lier arm tigl'ter round her sister, kissed her pretty neck under the dclicattj shell-like ear, and Raid, 'Sweetest! we never fight. T never would raise a hand against you. I would run a pair of scissors into my own heart rather than snip a corner off this dear little car. There, no more fencing even with Avadded foils. We were talking of ]\lr. Coy she.' Eve shrugged her shoulders. * Iicvcnons d nos moiiions,' she said, ' though I cannot say old Coy she is a sheep ; he strikes me rather as a jackdaw.' 'Old Coyshe ! how can you exaggerate so, Eve! IIo is not more than five or six-and-twenty.' ' He is wise and learned enough to be regarded as old. I hate wise and learned men.' ' Wliat is there that you do not hate which is not light and frivolous ? ' asked ]3arbara a little pettishly. ' You have no serious interests in anything.' ' I have no interests in anything here,' said Eve, * be- cause there is nothing here to interest me. I do not care for turnips and mangold, and what are the pigs and poul- try to me ? Can I be enthusiastic over draining ? Can the price of bark make my pulses dance? No, Darbie (Bab you object to), I am sick of a country life in a poky corner of the most out-of-the-way county in England except Corn- wall. Eeally, Barbie, I believe I would marry any man who would take me to London, and let me go to the thea- tre and to balls, and concerts and shows, ^yhy, Barbara! 'i LXOTJIER MISTAKF =75 be- I'd mtlicr travel round the coiuitry in a caravan and danco on a tiglit-ropf tliau be nio[)i'd up lieri iii Morwell, au old fusty, mouldering' nu)!ik'« cill.' ♦ My dear Kve ! ' liarbara was so si locked, sbe could say no more. 'I am in earnest. I'apii is ill, inid that makes tlio placo mori! dull than ever, -lumper was some I'un, ho [iliiyed the violin, and taught ww nuisic, but now you liavo meddled, aiul deprived me of lliiit anuisenu'nt ; I am sick of tli<' monotony here. It is oid} a shade better than lian- herne convent, and ycju know jtiipa took mo away from that; 1 fell ill with the restraint.' ' You have no restraint here.' ' No— but I have jiothinLj to interest me. I feel always as if I was hungry for something I could not get. Why should I have " Don (iiovanni," nid " b'igaro," and the "Barber of Seville" on my niu ic-,4and, and strum at them? I want to see thcin, and hear them alive, acting, singing, particularly an)id lights and scenery, and in proper costume. I cannot bear this dull existence any longer. Jf Doctor Sfpuish will take nu' to a tlu'atre or an opera I'll marry him, just for that alone' — that is my last word.' Barbara was accustomed to he ar \\\yi talk extravagantly, and had not been accustomed to lay much weight on what she said ; but this was spoken so vehemently, and was so prodigiously extravagant, that Barbara could only loosen her hold of her sister, draw back to the far end of the sofa, and stare at her dismayodly. In her present state of dis- tress about Eve she thought more seriously of Eve's words than they deserved. Eve was angry, discontented, and said what came uppermost, so as to annoy her sister. 'Eve dear,' said Barbara gravely, ' I pray ycni not j talk in this manner, as if you had said good-bye to all right principle and sound sense. Mr. Coy^lie is downstairs. We must decide on an answer, and that 'i definite one.' * IFe / ' repeated Eve ; * I suppose It concerns me only.' ^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V. 1.0 I.I 1.25 125 ■ 50 ■^™ III 1.4 mm 1.6 V] * ^ ^ / Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 873-4503 A g 7<. ZP. > I 1 1 2/6 EVE * What concerns you concerns me ; you know that very ^vell, Eve.' * I am not at hbcrty, I suppose, to choose for myself? ' * You are a dear good girl, wlio ^Yill elect what is most pleasing to your fatlier and sister, and promises greatest happiness to yourself.' Eve sat pouting and playing with tlie ends of her apron. Then she took one end which she had twisted into a horn, and put it between her pearly teeth, whilst she looked fur- tively and mischievously at her sister, wlio sat with her hands on her lap, tapping tlie floor with her feet. * Barbie ! ' said Eve slily. * Well, dear ! ' ' Do lend mo your pocket-handkerchief. I have been crying and made mine wet. I'apa was so cross and you scolded me so sharply.' Barbara, without looking at her sister, held out her handkerchief to her. Eve took it, pulled it out by the two ends, twirled it round, folded, knotted it, worked dili- gently at it, got it into the compact shape she desired, laid it in her arms, with the fingers under it, and then, without Barbara seeing what she was about — ' Hist ! ' said Eve, and away shot the white rabbit she had manufactured into Barbara's lap. Then she burst into a merry laugh. The clouds had rolled away. The sun was shining. ' How can you ! How can you be so cliildish ! ' burst from Barbara, as she started up, and let the white rabbit fall at her feet. * Here we are,' said Barbara, with some anger, ' here we are discussing your future, and deciding your happiness or sorrow, and you — you are making white rabbits ! You really, Eve. are no better than a child. You are not fit to choose for yourself. Come along with me. Wo must go down. Papa and I will settle for you as is best. You want a master who will bring you into order, and, if possible, force you to think.' EXGAGED 277 11 !l CIIAPTEIl XLII. ENGAGED. If a comparison were made between the results of well and ill considered ventures, which would prove the most uni- formly successful ? Not certainly those undertakini^s which have been most carefully weighed and prudently deter- mined on. Just as frequently the rash and precipitate venture is crowned with success as that which has been wisely considered; and just as often the latter proves a failure, and falsities every expectation. Nature, Fate, whatever it be that rules our destinies, rules them crookedly, and, with mischief, upsets all our calculations. We build our card-houses, and she fillips a marble into them and brings tliem down. Why do we invariably stop CA'ery hole except that by which the sea rolls through our dyke? Why do we always forget to lock the stable door till the nag has been stolen ? The old myth is false which tells of Prometheus as bound and torn and devoured by the eagle ; Pro-metheu". is free and unrent, it is Epi-metheus who is in chains, and writhing, and looks back on the irrevocable past, and curses itself and is corroded with remorse. What is liie fate of Forethought but to be flouted by capricious Destiny, to be ever proved a fool and blind, to bo shown that it were just as well had it never existed? Eve hung back as Barbara led her to her father's door. Mr. Coyshe was in there, and though she had said she would take him she did not mean it. bhe certainly did not want to have to make her decision then. Her face be- came a little pale, some of the bright colour had gone from it when her temper subsided and sho had begun to play at making rabbits. Now more left her cheeks, and she held back as Barbara tried to draw her on. But Barbara was Nt I \m 27S TT/TT i pi t very dctei'miuctl, and tliouf,']i ]"]ve was wayward, she would not take tlin trouble to hi\ ()l)stiiiate. ' I can but say no,' she said to herself, ' if the creature does ask me ' Then she whispered into r>arl)ara's ear, ' Bab, I won't have a scene before all the parish.' ' All the parish, dear ! ' renionstratfd the elder, ' there is no one there but papa and tlie doctor ; and if the latter means to spealc he will ask to have a word with you in private, nnd you can ut I don't want to see him.' Barbara tln'ew open the door. Mr. Jordan was propped np in his bed on pillows. He was much worse, nnd a feverisli fire burned in his eyes and cheeks. He saw Eve at once and called her to him. Then her ill-humour returned, she pouted and looked away from IMr. Coyshe so as not to sec^ him. Ho bowed and smiled, and pushed forwaid extendint,' his hand, 1 iit she brushed past with her eyes fixed on lier father. She was angry with Barbara for liaving brought her down. ' Eve,' said ]\fr. Jordan, ' I am very ill. The doctor has warned me tliat I have been much hurt by what has happened. It was your doing, Eve. You were foolish last night. You forgot what was proper to your station. Your want of consideration is the cause of my being so much worse, and of that scoundrel's escape.' ' O papa, I am very sorry I hurt you, but as for his get- ting off — I am glad ! He had stolen my money, so I have a right to forgive him, and thiit I do freely.' ' Eve ! ' exclaimed her father, ' you do not know what you say. Come nearer to nii', child.' ' If I am to be scolded, papa,' said Eve, sullenly, 'I'd like not to have it done in public' She looked round the room, everywhere but at Mr. Coyshe. Her sister watched her anxiously. ' Eve,' said the old man, ' I am very ill and am not likely to bo strong again. I cannot be always with you. I am not any more capable to act as your protector, and ENGAGED 279 not P. I and Barbara has the cares of the house, and lacks the authority to govern and lead you.' ' I don't want any governing and leading, papa,' said Eve, studying the bed cover. ' Papa,' after a moment, ' whilst you lie in bed, don't you think all those little tufts on the counterpane look like poplars? I often do, and imagine gardens and walks and pleasure-grounds among them.' ' Eve,' said her father, ' I am not going to be put otY what I have to say by such poor artifices as this. I am going to send you back to Limherne.' ' Lanherne ! ' echoed Eve, springing back. ' I can't go there, papa ; indeed I can't. It is dull enough here, but it is ten thousand times duller there. I have just said so to Barbara. I can't go, I won't go to Lanherne. I don't see why I should be forced. I'm not going to be a nun. My education has been completed und^'r Barbara. I know where Cape Guardafui is, and the StraUs of ]Malacca, and the Coromandei Coast. I know Mangnall's questions and answers right through — that is, I know the questions and some of the answers. lean read " Tek'maque." AVhat more is wanted of any girl ? I don't desire any more learning. I hate Lanherne. I fell illlast time I was there. Those nuns look like hobgoblins, and not like angels. I shall run away. Besides, it was eternally semolina pud- ding there, and, papa, I hate semolina. Always semolina on fast days, and the puddings sometimes burnt. There now, my education h incomplete. I do not know whence semohna comes. Is it vegetable, papa ? ]\Ir. Coysho, you are scientific, tell us the whole history of the production ot this detestable article of commerce' • Semolina ' began ]\Ir. Coyshe. * Never mind about semolina,' interrupted Barbara, who saw through her sister's tricks. ' We will turn up the word in the encyclopfedia afterwards. We are consi- dering Lanherne now.' 'I don't mind the larae-grained s«;molina so much,' 1 J "•M ;*( 11 >8o /•:/7-: ,. w isw ifi J ■«■! t I i said Eve, with a I'acc of cliildliko simplicity ; ' that ia ahiiost as good as tapioca.' ller father caught her wrist and drew her hand upon the hed. Ho chitched it so tightly that she exchiimcd that he hurt licr. ' Kve,' lie said, ' it is iiccossary for you to go. Ilcr face hecamc dull and stuhhoni again. ' Ts Mr. Coyslu; here to oxaniinc my chest, and see if I am strong enough to endure conlinement ? ]>ecausel was the moans, according to you, papa, of poor — of i\u) l)risoner escaping last night, tlierefore I am to he sent to prison myself to-morro' .' ' I am not sending you to prison,' said her father, ' I am placing you under wise and pious guardians. You are not to he trusted alone any more. JJarhara has heen ' 'There! there!' exclaimed ]\ve, Hashing an angry glance at her sister, and hursting into tears; 'was there ever a poor girl so hadly treated ? I am scolded, and threatened with jail. !My sister, who should love me and take my part, is my cliief tormentor, and instigates you, papa, against me. She is rightly called ]'>arhara — she is a savage. I know so nuicli Latin as to understand that.' Barbara touched Mv. Coyshe, and signed to him to leave the room with her. Eve watched them out of the room with satisfaction. She could manage her father, she thought, if left alone witli him. But her father was thoroughly alarmed. He had heen told that she had met ^lartin on the rock. Barbara had told him this to exculpate Jasper. Iler conduct on the preceding night had, moreover, filled him with uneasi- ness. * Papa,' said Eve, looking at her little foot and shoe, * don't you think ]\lr. Coyshe's ears stick out very nuich ? I suppose his mother was not particular with him to put them under the rim of his cap.' • I have not noticed.' KXGAGED !8t ' And, papa, wliat i\i^i'\\ Ptariiif^ eyes lie has got ! I think lie straps his cravat t(jo tij^'ht.' ' Possibly.' ' Do you know, dear papa, there is a little hole just over the mantelshelf in my room, and the othor day I saw something hanging down from it. I thought it was a bit of string, and I went up to it and pulled it. Then there came a little squeak, and I screamed. What do you sup- pose I had laid hold of? It was a mouse's tail. ^Vas that not an odd thing, papa, fur the wee mouse to sit in its run and let its tail hang down outside '.* ' 'Yes, very odd.' ' Papa, how did all those beautiful things come into the house which I found in the chest upstairs ? And why were you so cross with me for putting them on ? ' The old man's face changed at once, the wild look cani'! back into his eye, and his hand which clashed her wrist clutched it so convulsively, that she felt his nails cut her tender skin. * Eve ! ' he said, and his voice quivered, * never touch them again. Never speak of them again. My (lod ! ' he put his hand to his brow and wiped the drops which sud- denly started over it, * my God ! I fear, I fear for her.' Then he turned his agitated face eagerly to her, and said — ' Eve ! you nmst take him. I wish it. I shall have no peace till I know you are in his hands. He is so wise and so assured. I cannot die and leave you alone. I wake up in the night bathed in a sweat of fear, thinking of you, fearing for you. I imagine all sorts of things. Do you not wish to go to Lanherne ? Then take Mr. Coyshe. He will make you a good husband. I shall be at (ase when you are provided for. I cannot die— and I believe I am nearer death than you or 1 Barbara, or even the doctor, sup- poses — I cannot die, and leave you here alone, unprotected, O Eve ! if you love me do as I ask. You must either go to Lanherne or take ^fr. Coyshe. It must be one or tho i J: 382 EVE IS I' otiier. \Vliat is that ? ' lio fis'vcd siuldenly, drawing back ill the bed, and stariiit^ wildly at her, and pointing at her forehead with a white quivering finger. ' What is there ? A stain— a spot. One of my black spots, very big. No, it is red. It is blood ! It came there when I was wounded by the scythe, and every now and then it breaks out again. 1 see it now.' ' Papa! ' said Eve, shuddering, 'don't point at me in that way, and look so strangt! ; you frighten nie. There is nothing there. ]5arbie washed it oil' long ago.' Then he wavered in his bed, passing one hand over the other, as washing — 'It cannot wash off,' he said, despair- ingly. • It eats its way in, farther, farther, till it reaches the very core of the heart, and then ' he cast himself back and moaned. ' It was very odd of the mouse,' said Eve, ' to sit with her little back to the room, looking into the dark, and her tail hanging out into the chamber.' She thought to divert her father's thoughts from his fancies. ' Eve ! ' lie said in a hoarse voice, and turned sharply round on her, ' let me see your mother's ring again. To- day you shall put it on. Hitherto you have worn it hung round your neck. To-day you shall bear it on your finger, in token that you are engaged.' ♦ Oh, papa, dear ! I don't ' ' Which is it to be, Lanherne or ]\Ir. Coyshe '? ' ' I won't indeed go to Lanherne.' ' Very weU ; then you will take Mr. Coyshe. He will make you happy. Hc! will not always live here ; he talks of a practice ill London. He tells me that he has found favour with the Duke, If he goes to London ' ♦ Oh, papa ! Is he really going to London ? ' 'Yes, child!' ♦ Where all the theatres are ! Oh, papa I I rhould like to live in a town, I do not like being mewed up in tliQ country. Will he have a carriage '? ' ' I suppose so.' EXGAiU:/) •8^ • Oh, papa ! and a ti.ijjer in Imttons and a ^'old band ? ' • I do not know.' 'I am snro lio '.vill, papa ! I'd I'iillicr have that than go to Lanhcrnc' Mr. Jordan knocked with liis stick aj^ainst the wall. Eve was frif,ditoncMl. 'Papa, don't be too hasty. I oidy meant that I hate Lanlierne ! ' In fact, she was ahirmed bv his mention of tlie rim,', and followini; her usual simple tactics had diverted the current of his thoui^dits into another direction. Barbara and Mr. Coyshe came in. • She consents,' said Mr. Jordan. ' Eve, give liim your hand. AVhere is the ring ? ' She drew back. ' I want the nng,' he said again, impatiently. ' Papa, I have not got it — that is — I have mislaid it.' ' AVhat ! ' he exclaimed, trying to sit up, and becoming excited. ' The ring — not lost ! Mislaid ! It must be found. I will have it. Your motlier's ring ! I will never, never forgive if that is lost. Produce it at once.' ' I cannot, papa. I don't know O — ]Mr. Coyshe, quick, give me your hand. There ! I consent. Do not be excited, dear papa. I'll find the ring to-morrow.' Iff * \ ' m m VtilA CIIAPTEll XLIII. IN A MINK. Eve had no sooner consented to take Mr. Coyshe, just to save herself the inconvenience of being questionc'd about the lost ring, than she ran out of the room, and to escape further importunity ran ovr the iields towards the wood. She had scarcely gone three steps from the house before she regretted what she had done. She did not care for Mr. Coyshe. She laughed at his peculiarities. She did not be- f ,1 " :84 EVE lieve, like her fiithci' unci sister, in his clevcrnesa. ])ut she Haw t' t hi.s ears and eyes were unduly prominent, and she was alive to the ridiculous. Mr, Coyslie was more to her fancy than most of tiie younj,' men of the nei^dihourhood,. who tallied of nothing' hut sport, and who would f,'rowwith advaiU'in.L,' \\\i,<' to t:dk of sport and rales, and hcyond rates would not .^'row, 11 vc! was not fond of hunting'. IJarhara rarely went after th(! hounds, l-'.ve never. She did not love horse exercise ; she preferred sauntering; in the woods and lanes, gathering autunni-tinted hlackherry leaves, to a run over the downs after a fox. Perhaps hunting ro(pnred too much exertion for her : Kve did not care for exertion. She made dolls' clothes still, at the age of seventeen ; she played on the piano and sang ; she collected leaves and llowers for posies. That was all Kve cared to do. What- ever she did she did it listlessly, hecause nothing thoroughly interested her. Yet she felt that there might ho things which were not to ho encountered at Morwell that would stir her heart and make her pulses hound. In a word, she had an artistic nature, and the world in which she moved was a narrow and inartistic world. Iler proper faculties were unevoked. ller true nature slept. The hoot of an owl, followed hy a queer little face peep- ing at her from heliind a pine. She did not at once re- cognise Watt, as her mind was occupied with her engage- ment to ]\Ir. Coy she. Now at the very moment Watt showed himself her freakish mind had swerved from a position of disgust at her engagement, into one of semi-content with it. Mr. Coyshe was going to London, and there she would he free to enjoy herself after her own fashion, in seeing plays, hearing operas, going to all the sights of the great town, in a life of restless pleasure-seeking, and that was exactly what Eve desired. Watt looked woe-hegone. lie crept from hehind the tree. Ilis impudence and merriment had deserted him. Tears came into \\\\i eyes as he spoke. /A A .i//.\7; :S! ' Arc tlioy all gone ? ' lie asked, looking cautiously about. ' Whom do you mean ? ' ' The police.' ' Yes, tliey liiive left Morwell. I do not know •hither. AVhetlier they are searcliin;,' lor your brother or liavo given up the search 1 cannot say. NViiat keeps you liere?' ' ^liss Eve ! poor Martin is not far olV. Jt would not do for him to run far. He is in hitling at no great dis- tance, and — he has nothing to eat.' * AVliero is he? ^Vhat can I do ? ' asked I've, fright- ened. ' IIo is in an old mine, lie Avill not bo discovered there. Even if the constables found the entrance, which is improbable, they ^vould not take him, for he would retreat into one of the side passages and escape by an air- hole in another part of the wood.' * I will try what I can do. I dare say I might snnigglo some food away from the liouse and put it behind the hedge, whence you could fetch it.' * Tliat is not enough, lie must get away.' ' There is Jasper's horse still with us. I will as'i Jasper, and you can have that.' ' No,' answered the boy, ' that will not do. We nnist not take the road this time. We must try the water.' 'Wo have a boat,' said Eve, 'but papa would never allow it to be used.' ' Your papa will know nothing about it, nor the pru- dent I Barbara, nor the solenni .lasper. Y'ou can gcL the key and let us have the boat.' 'I will do what I can, but' — as a sudden thou'dit struck her — ' Martin must let me have my ring again. I want it so much. ]\Iy father lins been asking for it.' * How selfish you are ! ' exclaimed the boy reproach- fully. ' Thinking of your own little troubles wlieu a vast danger menaces our dear Martin. Come with me. You must see Martin and ask him yourself for that ring. I dare i If !86 EVE not speak of it ; ho valuos that rinj,' above cverythinfj. You must plead for it yoiii'-clf with thnt pretty moutli and those speaking,' eyes.' ' I must not ; indeed I must not ! ' ' Why not ".' You will not be missed. No one will Isarni you. You should se(' the jioor i'ellnw, to what he is rediieed by love for you. Yes, come and see him. lie would never have; been here, he would have been far away in saf«3ty, but he had tlu; desire to see you aj^ain.' ' Indeed, I eainiot accompany you.' ' Then you nnist do without the rin^,'.' ' I want my rin;^' a^'ain vastly. My father is cross because I have not ^'ot it, and 1 have promised to show it him. How can I keep my promise unless it be restored to me •? ' ' Come, come ! ' said tlie boy imjiatieiitly. ' Whilst you are talking,' yoti mi^dit have got half-way to his den.' ' I will only juiit speak to him,' said Eve, ' two words, and then run home.' ' To be sure. That will be ample — two words,' sneered the boy, and led tlie way. The old mine adit was below the rocks near the river, and at no great distance from the old landing-place, where Jasper had recently constructed a boathouse. The ground about the entiance was thickly strewn with dead leaves, mixed with greenish shale thrown out of the copper mine, and so poisonous that no grass had been able to grow over it, though the mine had probably not been worked for a century or even more. I5ut the mouth of the adit was now completely overgrown with brambles and fringed with ferns. The dogwood, now in llower, had thickly clam- bered near the entrance wherever the earth was not impregnated with copper and arsenic. Eve shrank from the black entrance and hung back, but the boy caught her by the arm and insisted on her coming with him. Bhe surmounted some broken masses of rock that had fallen before the entrance, and brushed IN A Mi.\r. i87 aside tlio dogwood and briars. Tiio air struck cliill and damp a^^'aiiist l)t'r brow as slio passed out of tlio sun under tlio st;)ny arch. The rock was lichcnod. Wiiitc-pfrooii fini^'oid ^'rowths Inin;^' down in streanurs ; tiie lloor was dry, tiiou^di water (h'ippe'd iVoni the sides and noui'ished beds ol' velvet moss as far in as the li^dit penetrated. So much rubble eovered the bottom of tiu' adit, tliat tlie water i'lltered tbrou^'li it uiid passed by a sul)tevrancan clumnel to the river. After takin.L; a lew steps forward, l^v»' saw Martin half sitting, half lying on a bed of fern and heather ; the grey light from the entrance f«ll on his face. It was pale and drawn; but he brightenul up when he saw Mve, and ho started to his knee to salute her. ' I (;annot stand upright in this cursed hole,' he said, 'but at this moment it nuitters not. On my knee 1 do homage to my queen.' lie sei/.ed lier hand and pressi'd his lips to it. ' Here vou see nie,' he said, ' doomed to shiver in this pit, catching my death of rheumatism.' 'You ^vill surely soon get away,' said Kve. "1 am very sorry for you. I \\\\\>i go honu', 1 may not sLa;. .' ' What ! leave mc now that you have appeared as a sunbeam, shining into this abyss to glorify it! Oh, no — stay a few minutes, and then I shall remain and dream of the time you were here. Look at my companions. He pointed to the roof, where curious lumps like compactecl cobwebs hung down. ' These are bats, asleep during the day. When night falls they will begin to stir and shake their wmgs, and scream, and lly out. Shall I have to sleep m this den, with the hideous creatures crying and flapping about my head '.* ' * Oh, that will be dreadful ! But surely you will leave this when night comes on '? ' ' Yes, if you will help me to get away.' * I will furnish you with the key to the boathouse. I will hide it somewhere, and then your brother can find it.* 'M :8S EVE tH i ^1, r! (Ik :i ! * That will not satisfy nic. You must bring tlio key here.' ' Why ? I cannot do that.' * Indeed vou must ; I cannot live ■without another glimpse of your sweet face. Peter was released by an angel. It shall be the same with ^Martin.' ' I will bring you the key,' said Eve nervously, ' if you will give me back my ring.' ' Your ring ! ' exclaimed ^Martin ; ' never ! Go — call the myrmidons of justice and deliver me into their hands.' ' I would not do tliat for the world,' said Eve with tears in her eyes ; ' I will do everything that I can to help you. Indeed, last night, I got into dreadful trouble by dress- ing up and playing my tambourine and dancing to attract the attention of the men, whilst you were escaping from the corn-chamber. Papa was very angry and excited, and ] Barbara w.os simply — dreadful. I have been scolded and made most unhappy. Do, in pity, give me up the ring. ^ly papa has asked for it. You liave alrea(^y got me into another trouble, because I had not the ring. I was obliged to promise to marry Doctor Coyshe just to pacify papa, he was so excited about the ring.' ' What ! engaged yourself to another ? ' * I was forced into it, to-day, 1 tell you — because I had not got the ring. Give it me. I want to get out of my engagement, and I cannot without that.' * And I — it is not enough that I should be hunted as a hare — mv heart must be broken ! Walter ! where are you ? Come here and listen to me. Never trust a woman. Curse the whole sex for its falseness and its selfishness. There is no constancy in this world.' And he sighed and looked reproachfully at Eve. ' After all I have endured and suftered — for you.' Eve's tears flowed. Martin's attitude, tone of voice, were pathetic and moved her. ' I am very sorry,' she said, ' but — I never gave you the ring. You snatched it rin-,'. JN A MINE 289 from me. You are unknown to me, I am nothing to you, and you are— you arc ' ' Yes, speak out the bitter truth. I am a thief, a run- away convict, a murderer. Use every offensive epithet that occurs in your vocabulary. Give a dog a bad name and hang him. I ought to have known the sex better than to have trusted you. But I loved, I was blinded by passion. I saw an angel face, and blue eyes that pro- mised a heaven of tenderness and truth. I saw, I loved, I trusted — and here I am, a poor castaway ship, lying ready to be broken up and plundered by wreckers. the cruel, faithless sex ! We men, with our royal trust, our splendid self-sacrifice, become a ready prey ; and when we are down, the laughing heartless tyrants dance over us. When the lion was sick the ass came and kicked him. It was the last indignity the royal boast could endure, he laid his head between his paws and his heart brake. Leave me — leave me to die.' * Martin ! ' said Eve, quite overcome by his great- ness, and the vastncss of his devotion, * I have never hurt you, never offended you. You are like my papa, and have f^mcies.' * I have fancies. Yes, you are right, terribly right. I have had my fancies. I have lived in a delusion. I be- lieved in the honesty of those eyes. I trusted your word ' * I never gave you a word.' * Do not interrupt me. I did suppose that your heart had surrendered to me. The delusion is ovsr. The heart belongs to a vulgar village apothecary. Tliat heart which I so treasured ' his voice shook and broke, and Eve sobbed. * Who brought the police upon me ? ' he went on. * It was you, whom I loved and trusted, you who popsoss an innocent face and a heart full of guile. And here I lie, your victim, in a living grave your cruel hands have scooped out for me in the rock.' ' — indeed, this mine was dug hundreds of years ago.' He turned a reproachfal look at her. * Why do you u «< f I m ill 1 :J|:il '■'-^ 290 EVE interrupt me ? I speak metaphorically. You brought me to this, and if you have a spark of good feeling in your breast you will get me away from here.' ' I will bring you the key as soon as the sun sets.' ' That is right. I accept the token of penitence with gladness, and hope for day in the heart where the light dawns.' ' I must go — I really must go,' she said. He bowed grandly to her, with his hand on his heart. ' Come,' said Watt. ' I will help you over these rub- bish heaps. You have had your two words.' ' stay ! ' exclaimed Eve, * my ring ! I came for that and I have not got it. I must indeed, indeed have it.' * Eve,' said Martin, 'I have been disappointed, and have spoken sharply of the sex. ])Ui i am not the man to harbour mistrust. Deceived I have been, and perhaps am now laying myself open to fresh disappointmi nt. I cannot say. I cannot go against my nature, which is frank and trustful. There — take your ring. Come back to me this evening with it and the key, and prove to me that all women are not false, that all confidence placed in them is not misplaced.' CHAPTER XLIV. TUCKERS. BAr{n\RA sat in the little oak parlour, a pretty room that opened out of the hall ; indeed it had originally been a portion of the hall, whicJi was constructed like a letter L. The hall extended to the roof, but the branch at right angles wa ■ not half the height. It was ceiled about ten feet fron the floor, and instead of being, like the hall, paved \\i\\\ slate, had oak boards. The window looked into the garden. Mr, eTordan's father had knocked away the gi'anitc mullions, and put in t, sash-window, out of TUCKERS 291 koBping with the room and house, but agreeable to the taste of the period, and admitting more light. A panelled division cut the room off from the hall. Barbara and Eve could not agree about the adornment of this apartment. On the walls were a couple of oil paintings, and Barbara supplemented them with framed and glazed mezzotints, bhc could not be made by her sister to see the incon- gruity of engravings and oil paintings hanging side by side on dark oak panels. On the chimney-picco was a French ormolu clock, which was Eve's detestation. It was badly designed and unsuitable for the room. So was the banner-screen of a poodle resting on a red cushion ; so were the bugle mats on the table ; so were tlie antima- cassars on all the arm-chairs and over the buck of the sofa ; so were some drawing-room chairs purchased by Barbara, with curved legs, and rails that were falling out periodically. Barbara thouglit these chairs handsome. Eve detestable. The chimney-piece ornaments, the vases of pale green glass illuminated with flowers, were also objects of aversion to one sister and admiration to the other. Eve at one time refused to mike posies for the vases in the parlour, and was always protesting against some new introduction by her sister, which violated the principles of taste. 'I don't like to live in a dingy old hall like this,' Eve would say ; ' but I like a place to be fitted up in keeping with its character.' Barbara was now seated ni this debatable ground. Eve was out somewhere, and she was alone and engaged with her needle. Her father, in the next room, was dozing. Then to the open window came Jasper, leaned his arms on the sill — the sash was up — and looked in at Barbara. ' Hard at work as usual '.' ' he said. She smiled and nodded, and looked at him, holding her needle up, with a long white thread in it. ' On what engaged I dare not ask,' said Jasper. • You may know,' she said, laughing. ' Sewing in U 2 m ^'X \\\ m w un. li 292 EVE tuckers. I always sew tuckers on Saturdays, both for myself and for Eve.' * And, pray, what are tuckers ? ' ' Tuckers ' — she hesitated to find a suitable description, * tuckers are — well, tuckers.' She took a neck of a dress which she had finished and put it round her throat. * Now you see. Now you understand. Tuckers are the garnish- ing, like parsley to a dish.' * And compliments to speech. So you do Eve's as well as your own.' * dear, yes ; Eve cannot be trusted. She would for- get all about them and wear dirty tuckers.' * But she worked hard enough burnishing the brass ocklace.' * yes, that shone ! tuckers are simply — clean.' * My Lady Eve should have a lady's-maid.' ' Not whilst I am with her. I do all that is needful for her. When she marries she must have one, as she is helpless.' ' You think Eve will marry ? ' * yes ! It is all settled. Slie has consented.' He was a little surprised. This had come about very suddenly, and Eve was young. ' I am glad you are here,' said Barbara, * only you have taken an unfair advantage of me.' ' I— Barbara ? ' ' Yes, Jasper, you.' She looked up into his face with a heightened colour. He had never called her by her plain Christian name before, nor had she thus addressed him, but their hearts understood each other, and a formal title would have been an affectation on either side. ' I will tell you why,' said the girl ; * so do not put on such a puzzled expression. I want to speak to you seriously aboit a matter that — that — well, Jasper, that makes me wish you had your face in the light and mine in the shade. "Where you stand the glare of tlie sky is behind you, and you can see every change in my face, and that TUCKERS 293 unnerves me. Either you shall come in here, take my place at the tuckers, and let me talk to you through the window, or else I shall move my chair cIohc to the window, and sit with my back to it, and we can talk without watch- ing each other's face.' • Do that, Barbara. I cannot venture on the tuckers.' So, laughing nervously, and witn her colour changing in her cheeks, and her lips twitching, she drew her cluur close to the window, and seated herself, not exactly with her back to it, but sideways, and turned her face from it. The ground outside was higher than the floor of the parlour, so that Jasper stood above her, and looked do^\ll somewhat, not much, on her head, hor dark hair so neu^, and glossy, and smoothly parted, lie stooped to the mignonette bed and gathered some of the fragrant delicate little trusses of colourless flowers, and with a slight apology thrust two or three among her dark hair. •Putting in tuckers,' he said. * Garnishing the sweetest of heads with the plant that to my mind best symbolises Barbara.' 'Don't,' she exclaimed, shaking her head, but not shaking the sprigs out of her hair. ' You are taking un- warrantable liberties, Mr. Jasper.' *I will take no more.' He folded his arms on the i\\\\. She did not see, but she felt, the flood of love that poured over her bowed head from his eyes. She worked very hard fastening off a thread at the end of a tucker. • I also,' said Jasper, ' have been desirous of a word with you, Barbara.' She turned, looked up in his face, then bent her head again over her work. The flies, among them a great blue- bottle, were humming in the window; the latter bounced against the glass, and was too stupid to come down and go out at the open sash. • We understand each other,' said Jasper, in a low voice, as pleasant and soft as the murmur of the flies. * There are songs without words, and there is speech without V-i, f i k •'% w ' J'l 294 EV£: voice : what I have thout^ht and felt you know, though I have not told you anythinti:, and I think I know also what you think and fcol. Now, however, it is as v.'ell that we should come to plain words.' ' Yc3, Jasper, I ihink so as well, that is why I have come over here with my tuckers.' ' We know each other's heart,' he said, stooping in over her head and the garnishing of mignonette, and speaking as low as a whisper, not really in a whisper but in his natural warm, rich voice. ' There is this, dear Barbara, about me. My name, my fiiniily, are dislinnnnred by the thoughtless, wrongful act of my poor brother. I dare not ask }ou to share that name with me, not only on this ground, but also because I an\ absolutely penniless. A great wrong has been done lO your father and sister by us, and it does not become mo to ask the grcr.test and richest of gifts from your family. Hereafter I may inherit my father's mill at Buckfastleigh. When I do I will, as I have undertaken, fully repay the debt to your sister, but till I can do that I may not ask for more. I'ou are, and must be, to me a far-off, unapproacliablc star, to whom I look up, whom I shall ever love and stretch my hands towards.' ' I am not a star at all,' said l>arbara, * and as for being far off and unapproachable, you arc talking nonsense, and you do not mean it or you would not have stuck bits of mignonette in my hair. I do not understand rhodomon- tadc.' Jasper laughed. He liked her downright, plain way. * I am quoting a thought from " Preciosa," ' he said. ' I know nothing of "Preciosa," save that it is some- thing Eve strums.' ' Well — divest what I have said of all exaggeration of simile, you understand what I mean.' ' And I want you to understand my position exactly, Jasper,' she said. * I also am penniless. The money my aunt left me I have made over to Eve because she could u TUCKERS 295 not marry Mr. Coyslio without something present, as well as a prospect of something to come.' ' What ! sewn your poor little legacy in aa a tucker tc her wedding gown '? ' ' Mr. Coyshe wants to go to London, he is lost hero ; and Eve would be happy in a great city, she mopes in the country. So I have consented to this arrangement. I du not want the money as I live hero with my father, and it is a real necessity for Eve and Mr. Coyshe. You see — I could not do other.' ' And when your father dies, Morwell also passes to Eve. What is left for you '? ' ' Oh, I shall do very well. Mr. Coyshe and Eve would never endure to live here. By the time dear papa is called away Mr. Coyshe will have made himself a name, be a physician, and rolling in money. Perhaps he and Eve may like to run here for their short holiday and broatlie our pure air, but otherwise they will not occupy the place, and I thought I might live on here and manage for them. Then ' — she turned her cheek and Jasper saw a glitter on the long dark lash, but at the same time the dimple of a smile on her cheek — ' then, dear friend ' — she put up her hand on the sill, and he caught it — 'then, dear friend, perhaps you will not mind helping me. Then probably your little trouble will be over.' She was silent, thinking, and he saw the dimple go out of her smooth cheek, and the sparkling drop fall from the lash on that cheek. ' All is in God's hand,' she said. ' We do wrong to look forward : I shall be happy to leave it so, and wait and trust.' Then he put the other hand which did not clasp hers under her chin, and tried to raise her face, but he could only reach her brow with his lips and kiss it. He said not one word. * You do not answer,' she said. ' I cannot,' ho replied. Then the door was thrown open and Eve entered, flushed, and holding up her finger. I. :ll!5 ill ^ '■'i ■■:. 4 ^3 296 EVE * Look, Bab 1 — look, dear ! I have my ring again. Now I can shake off that doctor.' ♦ Eve ! ' gasped Barbara ; ' the ring ! where did you get it ? ' She turned sharply to Jasper. • She has seen him — your brother Martin — again.' Eve was, for a moment, confused, but only for a mo- ment. She recovered herself and said merrily, ' ^Vlly, Barbie dear, however did you get that crown of mignonette in your hair ? You never stuck it there yourself. You would not dream of such a thing ; besides, your arm is not long enough to reach the Hower-bed. Jasper ! confess you have been doing this.' She clasped her hands and danced. ' what fun ! ' she exclaimed : * but really it is a shame of me interfering when Barbara is so busy with the tuckers, and Jasper in garnishing Barbara's head.' Then she bounded out of the room, leaving her sister in con- fusion. CHAPTER XLV. 'I DUCK AND GREEN TEAS. Eve might evade an explanation by turning the defence into an attack when first surprised, but she was unable to resist a determined onslaught, and when Barbara followed her and parried all her feints, and brought her to close quarters. Eve was driven to admit that she had seen Martin, who was in concealment in the wood, and that she had undertaken to furnish him with food and the boat- house key. Jasper was taken into consultation, and promised to seek his brother and provide for him what was necessary, but neither he nor Barbara could induce her to remain at home and not revisit the fugitive. * I know that Jasper will not find the place without me,' she said. * Watt only discovered it by his prowling about as a weasel. I must go with Mr. Jasper, but I promise you, Barbie, it shall be for the last time.' There Now 1.^' DUCK AND GREEN PEAS 297 Was reason in her argument, and Barbara was forced to acquiesce. Accordingly in tlio evening, not before, the two set out for the mine, Eve carrying some provisions in a basket. Jasper was much annoyed that his brother was still in the neighbourhood, and still causing trouble to the sisters at ^lorwcll. Eve had shown her father the ring. The old man was satisfied ; he took it, looked hard uo it, slipped it on his little finger, and would not surrender it again. Eve must explain this to Martin if he redemanded the ring, which he was like enough to do. Neither she nor Jasper spoke much to each other on the way ; he had his thoughts occupied, and she was not easy in her mind. As they approached the part of the wood where the mine shaft was, she began to sing the song in 'Don Giovanni,' Ld ci darem, as a signal to Watt that friends drew nigh through the bushes. On entering the adit they found Martin in an ill humour. Ho had been without food for many hours, and was moreover suffering from an attack of rheumatism. * I said as much this morning, Eve,' he growled. ' I knew this hateful hole would make me ill, and here I am in agonies. Oh, it is of no use your bringing me the key of the boat ; I can't go on the water with knives running into my back, and, what is more, I can't stick in this hateful burrow. How many hours on the water down to Plymouth ? I can't even think of it ; I should have rheumatic fever. I'd rather be back in jail — there I suppose they would give me hot-bottles and blankets. And this, too, when I had prepared such a treat for Eve. Curse it ! I'm always thinking of others, and getting into pickles myself accordingly.' ' Why, ]n-ay, what were you scheming to do for Miss Eve ? ' asked Jasper. ♦ 0, the company I was wuth for a bit is at Plymouth, and are performing Weber's new piece, •' Preciosa," and I ^ i . I ;i ii'rfti m,l mME }W 111: f! m ri" 298 EVE 'ii thought I'd like to show it to her— and then the mnnnp;or, Justice Barret, knows about licr motlicr. "When I told liini of my escape, and leavini; you at Morwell, he said that lie had left one of his company there named Eve. I thought it would bo a pleasure to the young lady to meet him, and hear what ho had to tell of her mother.' ' And you intended to carry Eve off with you ? ' ' I intended to persuade her to accompany me. Per- haps she will do so still, when I am better.' Jasper was angry, and spoke sharply to his brother. Martin turned on his bed of fern and heather, and groan- ing, put his hands over his ears. * Come.' said ho, ' Watt, trive me food. I can't stand scolding on an empty stomach, and with aches in my bones.' lie was impervious to argument ; remonstrance he resented. Jasper took the baske' ^rom Eve, and gave him what ho required. He groaned nd cried out as Watt raised him in his arms. Martin looked at Eve, appealing for sympath.y. He was a martyr, a guiltless sufferer, and not spared even b;y his brother. ' I think, Martin,' said Jasper, ' that if you were well WTapped in blankets you might still go in the boat.' ' You seem vastly eager to be rid of me,' answered Martin peevishly, ' but, I tell you, I will not go. I'm not going to jeopardise my life on the nver in the fogs and heavy dews to relievo you from iiri.Kiety. How utterly and unreasonably selfish you are J I there be one vice which is despicable, it is selfishness. I repeat, I won't go, and I won't stay in this hole. You must find some safe and warm place in which to stow me. I throw all responsi- bilities on you. I wish I had never escaped from jail — I have been sinking ever since I left it. There I had a dry cell and food. From that I went to the corn-chamber at Morwell, which was dry — but, faugh ! how it stank of onions ! Now I have this damp dungeon that smells of mould. Watt and you got me out of prison, and got me DUCK AXn GREEN PEAS •95 away from tho wnidors and conptablcs, so you must pro- vido for mo now. I liavo nothing moro to do witli it. If you tako a responsibility on you, my doctrine is, go llirougli witli it ; don't take it up and drop it lialf linishud. ^Vliat iic'v/s of that fellow I shot '? Is ho dead ? ' • No — wounded, but not dangerously.' ' There, then, why should I fear ? I was comfortable in jail. I had my moals regularly there, and was not subjected to damp. I trust my country would have cared for me better than ni) brothers, who give me at ono time onions for a pillow, and at another heather for a hod.' ' My dear Martin,' said Jasper, * I think if you try you can walk up the road; there is a wcodninn's hut among the trees near the IJaven lloek, hut concealed in the coppice. It is warm and dry, and no ono will visit it whilst the leaves are on the trees. I'ho workuu'u keep their tools there, and their dinners, when shredding in winter or rending in spring. You will bo as safe there as here, and so much nearer Morwell that we shall be able easily to furnish you with necessaries till you are better, and can escape to Plymouth.' * I'm not sure that it is wise for mo to try to got to Plymouth. The police will bo on the look-out for mo there, and they will not dream that I have stuck here — this is the last place where they would suppose I stayed. Besides, I have no money. No ; I will wait till the company move a-v;ay from the county, and I will rejoin it at Bridge- water, or Taunton, or Dorchester. Justice Barret is a worthy fellow ; a travelling company can't always com- mand such abilities as mine, so the accommodation is mutual.' Martin was assisted out of the mine. He groaned, cried out, and made many signs of distress ; he really was suffering, but he made the most of his sullering. Jasper stood on one side of him. Ho would not hear of Walter sustaining him on the other side ; he must have Eve as bis support, and lie could only support himself on her by I it; \ % 'I \\\ !' M 300 EVE putting his arm over her ehoulders. No objections raised by Jasper were of aviiil. Watt was not tall cnougli. Watt's steps were irregular. Watt was required to go on ahead and see that no one was in the way. Martin was certainly a very handsome m\n. He wore a broad- brimmed hat, and fair long hair ; liis eyes were dark and large, his features regular, his complexion pale and in- teresting. Seeing that Jasper looked at his hair with surprise, ho laughed, and leaning his head towards him whispered, ' Those rascals at Prince's Town cropped me like a Puritan. I wear a theatrical wig before the sex, till my hair grows again.' Then leaning heavily on Eve, he bent his head to her ear, and made a complimentary remark which brought the colour into her cheek. ' Jasper,' said he, turning his head again to his brother, 'mind this, I cannot put up with cyder; I am racked with rheumatism, and I must have generous drink. I suppose your father's cellar is well stocked ? ' He ad- dressed Eve. 'You will see that the poor invalid is not starved, and has not his vitals wrung with vinegar. I have seen ducks about Morwell ; what do you say to duck with onion stuflhig for dinner to-morrow — and tawny port, eh ? I'll let you both into another confidence. I am not going to lie on bracken. By hook or by crook you must contrive to bring me out a feather bed. If I've not one, and a bolster and pillow and blankets — by George and the dragon! I'll give myself up to the beaks.' Then he moaned, and squeezed Eve's shoulder. 'Green peas,' he said when the paroxysm was over* ' Duck and green peas ; I shall dine off that to-morrow • — and tell the cook not to forget the mint. Also some carrot sliced, boiled, then fried in Devonshire cream, with a little shallot cut very fine and toasted, sprinkled on top. * Sweet- heart,' aside to Eve into her ear, 'you shall come and have a snack with me. Remember, it is an invitation. We will not have old solemn face with us as a mar-fun, shall we?' DUCK AXD CREEX PEAS 301 The woodraan's hut when reached after a slow ascent was found to be small, warm, and in Rood condition. It was so low that a man could not stand uprij^dit in it, but it was sufficiently lonp: to al!ow him to lie his lenf,'tli therein. The sides were of wattled oak branches, com- pacted with heatlier and moss, and the roof was of turf. Tho lloor was dry, deep bedded in fern. •It is a dog's kennel,' said tho dissatisfied Miirtin ; 'or rather it is not so good as that. It is .ho sort of jjIjicc made for swans and geese and ducks be'ji lo a pond, for shelter when they lay their eggs. It really is humiliating tliat I should have to burvmy head in a sort of water-fowl's stv.' pjve promised that Martin should have whatever he desired. Jasper had, naturally, a delicacy in ofTering any- thing beyond his own services, thougli he knew ho could rely on Barbara. When they had seen the exhausted and anguished martyr gracefully reposing on the bracken bed, to rest after his painful walk, and had already left, they were re- called by his voice shouting to Jasper, regardless of every consideration that should have kept him quiet, 'Don't be a fool, Jasper, ar>d shako tho bottle. If you break tho crust I won't drink it.' And again tho call came, 'Mind the green peas.' As Jasper and Eve walked back to Morwell neither spoke much, but on reaching tho last gate, Eve said — * 0, dear Mr. Jasper, do help mo to persuade Barbie to let me go! I have made up my mind ; I must and will see the play and hear all that the manager can toll mo about my mother.' 'I will go to riymoutli, ]\Iiss Eve. I must see this Mr. Justice Barret, and I will learn every particular for you,' 'That is not enough. I want to see a play. I have never been to a theatre in all my life.' •I will see what your sister says.' • I am obstinate. I shall go, whether she says yea or no.' n a9. ii I'liiii ntiimi If 302 EVE ' To-morrow is Sunday,' said Jasper, ' wlien no theatre is open.' 'Besides,' added Evo, 'there is poor Martin's duck and green peas to-morrow.' 'And crusted port. If -we go, it must he Monday.' ^L t :'■'¥' if If-l •■ CHAPTER XLVI. 'rRECIOSA.' Eve had lost something of lur hglit-heartedness; in spite of herself sJie was made to think, and grave alterna- tives were forced upon her for decision. Tlio careless girl ■was dragged in opposite directions hy two men, equally sellish iiiid conceited, the one prosaic and clever, the other fcsthetic but ungifted ; each actuated by the coarsest self- seeking, neither regarding the liapj^iness of the child. Martin liad a passionate fancy for her, and had formed some fantastic scheme of turning her into a singer and an actress; and ?.Ir. Coysho thouglit of pushing his way in town by the aid of her money. Eve was without any stivuigth of character, but she had obstinacy, and where her pleasure was concerned she could be very obstinate. Hitherto she Jiad not been re- quired to act witli independence. She had submitted in most things to thr will of her father and sister, but then their will had been to give her pleasure and save her an- noyance. She had learned always to get her own way by an exhibition of peevishness if crossed. Now she ]iad completely tiet her heart on going to Plymouth. Sbe was desn-ous to know somctliing about her mother, as her father might not be questioned con- cerning her ; and she burned with eagerness to see a play. It would be hard to say which motive predominated. One alone might have been beaten down by Barbara's opposi- tion, but two plaited in and out together made so tough a » PRECIOSA 303 string that it could not be broken. Barbara did what she CLiuld, but her utmost was unavailing. Eve had suthcient shrewdness to insist on her desire to see and converse with a friend of her mother, and to say as little as possible about her other motive. Barbara could appreciate one, she would see no force in the other. Eve carried her point. Barbara consented to her going under the escort of Jasper. They were to ride to Beer Ferris and thence take boat. They were not to stay in Plymoutii, but return the same way. The tide was favourable ; they would probably bo home by three o'clock in the morning, and Barbara would sit up for them. It was important that Mr. Jordan should know nothing of the expedition, which would greatly excite him. As for Martin, she would provide for him, though she could not undertake to find him duck and green peas and crusted port every day. One further arrangement was made. Eve was en- gaged to Mr, Coyslic, therefore the young doctor was to be invited to join Eve and Jasper at Beer Alston, and accom- pany her to riymouth. A note was despatched to him to prepare him, and to ask him to have a boat in readiness, and to allow of the horses being put in his stables. Thus, everything was settled, if not absolutely in ac- cordance with Eve's wishes— she objected to the company of the doctor — yet sufficiently so to make her happy. Her happiness became greater as the time approached for her departure, and when she left she was in as joyful a mood as any in wliicli Barbara had ever seen her. Everything went well. The weather was fine, and the air and landscape pleasant ; not that Eve regarded either as she rode to Beer Alston. There the tiresome surgeon joined her and Jasper, and insisted on giving them re- freshments. Eve was impatient to be on her way again, and was hardly civil in her refusal ; but the harness of self-conceit was too dense over the doctor's breast for him to receive a wound from her licrht words. : !i '^1 1 !• '^ •(■' «eyond the terrace extended a distant landscape of rolling woodland and corn fields threaded by a blue wind- ing river. Far away in the remote distance rose a range of snow-clad mountains. Eve held up her hands, drew a long breath and sighed, not out of sadness, but out of ecstasy of delight. Don Fernando do Azevcdo, in black velY(>t and lace, was taking leave of J)on Carcamo, and informing him that ho would have left Madrid some days ago had he not been induced to stay and see Freciosa, the gipsy girl about whom the town waa talking. Then entered Alonxo, the son of Don Carcamo, enthusiastic over the beauty, talent, and virtue of the maiden. Eve listened with eager eyes and ears, she lost not a word, she missed not a motion, livery thing she saw was real to her. This was true Spain, yonder was the Sierra Nevada. For aught she considered, these were true hidal- goes. She forgot she was in a theatre, she forgot every- thing, her own existence, in her absorption. Only one tliought obtruded itself on her connecting the real with the fictitious. Martin ought to have stood there as Alonzo, in that becoming costume. Then the orchestra played softly, sweetly -she knew the air, drew another deep inspiration, her flush deepened. Over the stage swept a crowd of gentlemen and ladies, and a motley throng singing in chorus. Then came in gipsies with tambourines and castanets, and through the midst of them Preciosa in a crimson velvet bodice and sall'ron skirt, wearing a necklace of gold chains and coins. Eve put her hands over her mouth to check the cry of X i ft ■m\ \ ^4 1 '1, m i:| 11 'III "fill 1 ! \ itWi| I] iiiHil tiiki.. lll'i 306 EVE % fi astonishment ; the dress — she knew it — it was that she had found in the chest. It was that, or one most similar. Eve hardly breathed as Preciosa told the fortunes of Don Carcamo and Don Fernando. She saw the love of Alonzo kindled, and Alonzo she had identified with Martin. She— slie herself was Preciosa. Had she not worn that dress, rattled that tambourine, danced the same steps ? The curtain fell ; the first act wa? over, and the hum of voices rose. But Eve hcra'd nothing. Mr. Coyshe en- deavoured to cngapje her in conversation, but in vain. She was in a trance, lifted above the earth in ecstasy. She was Preciosa, she lived iinder a Spanish sun. This was her world, this real life. No other world was possible hence- forth, no other life endurable. She had passed out of a condition of surprise ; nothing could surprise her more, she had risen out of a sphere where surprise was possible into one where music, light, colour, marvel were the proper atmosphere. The most prodigious marvels occur in dreams and ex- cite no astonishment. Eve had passed into ecstatic dream. The curtain rose, and the scene was forest, with rocks, and the full moon shining out of the dark blue sky, silver- ing the trunks of the trees and the mossy stones. A gipsy camp ; the gipsies sang a chorus with echo. The captain smote with hammer on a stone and bade his men prepare for a journey to Valencia. The gipsies dispersed, and then Preciosa nrpearcd, entering from the far background, with the moonlight falling on her, subduing to low tones her crimson and yellow, holding a guitar in her hands. She seated herself on a rock, and the moonbeams played about her as she sang and accompanied herself on her instrument. Lone am I, yet am not lonely, For I SCO thee, loved and true, Round me flits thy form, thine only, Moonlit gliding o'er the dew. Wander where I may, or tarry, Hangs my heart alone on thee, l!ver in my breast I carry Thoughts that burn and torture ma. ' PRECIOSA ' P7 Unattainable and poorless In my heaven a constant star, Heart o'erMowini,', eves all tearless, (la/0 I on tliee from afar. The exquisite melody, the pathos of the scene, the poetry of tlio words, ivcru more tliau Eve could bear, aud tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. Coy she looked round in surprise ; he heard her sob, and asked if she were tired or unwell. No ! she sobbed out of excess of happiness. The combined beauty of scene and soni,' oppressed her heart with pain, the pain of delight greater than the heart could contain, Eve saw Alonzo come, disguised as a hunter, having abandoned his fatlier, his rank, his prospects, for love of Preciosa. Was not this like ]\[artin ? — Martin the heroic, the self-sacrificing man who rushed into peril that he might be at her feet — Martin, now laid up with rheumatism for her sake. She saw the gipsies assemble, their tents were taken down, bales were collected, all was prepared for departure. Alonzo was taken into the band and fellowship was sworn. The moon had set, but see — what is this".' A red light smites betwixt the trees and kindles the trunks orange and scarlet, the rocks are also flushed, and simultaneously with a burst, joyous, triumphant, the whole band sing the chorus of salutation to the rising sun. Treciosa is exalted on a litter and is borne on the shoulders of the gipsies. The light brightens, the' red blaze pervades, transforms the entire scene, bathes every actor in fire ; the glorious song swells and thrills every heart, and suddenly, when it seemed to Eve that she could bear no more, the curtain fell. She sprang to her feet, miconscious of everything but what she had seen and heard, and the whole house rose with her and roared its applause and craved for more. It is unnecessary for us to follow Eve's emotions through the entire drama, aiul to narrate the plot, to sny how that the gipsies arrive at the castle of Don Fernando i i: m juilil m I I .!;« 308 EVE vliere he is celebrating his silver •wedding, how his son Eugenio, by an impertinence ofTered to I'reciosa, ex- asperates the disguised Alonzo into striking liim, and is arrested, how Prcciosa intercedes, and liow it is discovered that she is the daughter of Don Fernando, stolen seven- teen years before. The reader may possibly know tlio drama ; if he does not, his loss is not much ; it is a drama of little merit and no originality, whicli would never have lived had not Weber furnished it with a few scraps of in- comparably beautiful music. The curtain fell, the orchestra departed, the boxes were emptying. All those in the stalls around Eve were in movemei^u. She gave a long sigh and woke out of her dream, looked round at Jasper, then at i\Ir. Coyslie, and smiled ; her eyes were dazed, she was not fully awake. ' Very decent performance,' said the surgeon, ' but wo shall see something better in London.' ' Well, Eve,' said Jasper, ' are you ready ? I will ask for the manager, and then we must be pushing home.' ' Home ! ' repeated Eve, and repeated it questioningly. ' Yes,' answered Jasper, * have you forgotten the row up the river and the ride before us '? ' Blie put her hand to her head. ' Oh, Jasper,' she said, ' I feel as if I were at homo now— here, where I ought always to have been, and was going again into banishment.' m i CHAPTER XLYII. NOAH ri AltK, Jasper left Eve with Mr. Coyshe whilst he went in quest of the manager. He had written to ]\Ir. Justice Barret as si'cn as it was decided that the visit was to be made, so as to prepare him for an interview, but there had not been 'I) ' rRECIOSA ' 309 time for a reply. The surgeon was to order a supper at the inn. A few minutes later Jasper came to them. IIo had seen the manager, who was then engaged, but re- quested that they would shortly see him in his rooms at the inn. Time was precious, the little party had a journey before them. They therefore hastily ate their meal, and when Eve was ready, Jasper accompanied her to the apart- ments occupied by the manager. Mr. Coyshe was left over the half-cor.sumed supper, by no m^ans disposed, as it had to be paid for, to allow so much of it to depart uneaten. Jasper knocked at the door indicated as that to tho rooms occupied by the manager and his family, and on opening it was met by a combination of noises that be- wildered, and of odours that suH'ocatod. ' Come in, I am glad to see you,' said a voice ; ' Justice gent word I was to expect and detain you.' The manager's wife came forward to receive the visi- tors. She was a pretty young woman, with very light frizzled hair, cut short — a head like that of the ' curly-headed plough- boy.' Eve could hardly believe her eyes, this was the real Preciosa, who on tiie stage had worn dark flowing hair. The face was good-humoured, simple, but not clean; for the paint and powder had been imperfectly washed oil". It adhered at the corners of the eyes and round the nostrils. Also a ring of white powder lingered on her neck and at the roots of her hair on her brow. ' Come in,' she said, with a kindly smile that made pleasant dimples in her cheeks, ' but take care where you walk. This is my parrot, a splendid bird, look at his green back and scarlet wing. Awake, old Poll ? ' ' Does your mother know you're out ? ' answered the parrot hoarsely, with the hard eyes fixed on PjVG. The girl turned cold and drew back. * Look at my Tom,' said ]Mrs. Justice Barret, * how he races round his cage.' She pointed to a squirrel tearing inanely up the wires of a revolving drum in which he waa %: I 1' I %, r 3IO EVE r t confined. * That is the ^vay in which ho greets my return from the theatre. !Mind the cradle ! Excuse my dress, I have been attending to baby.' bho rocked vigorously. ' Slyboots, ho knows when I come back without opening his peepers. Sucking your thumb vigorously, are you '? I could eat it — I could cat you, you are sweet as barley- sugar.' The enthusiastic mother dived with both arms into the cradle, brought out the child, and hugged it till it screamed. ' What is Jacko about, I wonder,' said the ex-Preciosa; * do observe him, sitting in the corner as demure as an old woman during a sermon. I'll warrant he's been at more mischief. ^Vhat do you suppose I have found him out in ? I was knitting a stocking for Justice, and when the time, came for me to go to the theatre I put the half-finished stocking with the ball of worsted down in the bed, I mis- trusted Jacko. As I dare not leave him in this room with baby, i locked him into the sleeping apartment. Will you believe me ? he found what I had concealed, lie plunged into the bed and discovered the stocking and unravelled the whole ; not only so, but he has left his hair on the sheets, and whatever Justice will say to me and to Jacko I do not know. Never mind, if he is cross I'll survive it. Now Jacko, how often have I told you not to bite off the end of your tail? The poor fellow is out of health, and we must not be hard on him.' The monkey blinked his eyes, and rubbed his nose. He knew that his delinquoncios were being expatiated on. ' You have not seen all my family yet,' said Mrs. Uarret. ' There is a box of white mice under the bed in the next room. The darlings are so tame that they will nestle in my bosom. Do you believe me ? I went once to the theatre, quite forgetthig one w^as there, till I came to dress, I mean undress, and then it tumbled out; I missed my leads that evening, I was distracted lest the mouse should get away. I told the prompter to keep him till I could NOAH'S ARK' 3i» This reclaim the rascal. Como in, dears! Como in!' was shouted, and a boy and \;\v\ burst in at the door. ' My only darlings, these three,' said Mrs. Barret, pointing to the children and the babe. ' They've been having some supper. Did you see them on the stage ? They were gipsies. Be quick and slip out of your clothes, pets, and tumble into bed. Never mind your prayers to- night. I have visitors, and cannot attend to you. Bay them twice over to-morrow morning instead. What ? Hungry still ? Here, Jaoko ! surrender that crust, and Polly must give up her lump of sugar; bite evenly between you.' Then turning to her guests, with her pleasant face all smiles, ' I love animals ! I have been denied a large family, I have only three, but then — I've not been married six years. One must love. What would the world be without love ? We are made to love. Do you agree with me, Jacko, you mischievous little pig ? Now — no biting, Polly ! You snapping also ? ' Then, to her visitors, * Take a chair — that is— take two.' To her children, ' What, .'s this manners? Your hat, Bill, and your frock, Philadelphia, and heaven knows what other rags of clothes on the only available chairs.' She swept the children's garments upon the floor, and kicked them under the table. ' Now then,' to the guests, * sit down and be comfort- able. Justice will be here directly. Barret don't much like all these animals, but Lord bless your souls ! I can't do without them. ]\ly canary died,' she snillled and wiped nose and eyes on the back of her hand, ' lie got poisoned by the monkey, I suspect, who fe>l him on scraps of green paper picked oft' the wall. One nuTst love ! ]kit it comes expensive. They make us pay damages wherever we stay. They charge things to our darlings I swear they never did. The manager is as meek as Moses, and he ])rars like a miller's ass. Here he comes — I know his sweet step. Don't look at me. I'll sit with my back to you, baby is I i 1^ 1 !i • '1 1 ''■!) ''in II II '*. It \ vi In Ilii 'nil ittii] f'illl Ii' m 312 EVE fidgety.' Then entered the manager, Mr. Justice Barret, tt quiet man with a pasty face. ' That's liini,' cxclainied the wife, * 1 said so. I knew ]iis step. I adore liim. He is a genius. I love him— even his pimples. One must lovo. Now— don't mind me.' Tiio good-natured creature carried off lier bahy into a corner, and seated herself with it on a stool : the monkey followed her, knowing that he was not appreciated by the numager, and seated liimself beside her, also with his back to tlu; company, and was engrossed in her proceedings with the baby. Mr. Justice Barret had a bald head, he was twice hi.-^ wife's age, had a very smooth face shining with soap. His hands were delicate and clean. lie wore polished boots, and white cravat, and a well-brushed black frock-coat. How he managed m a menagerie of children and animals to keep himself tidy was a wonder to the company. ' Barret dear ! ' exclaimed his lady, looking over her shoulder, and the monkey turned its head at the same time. 'I've had a jolly row with the landlady over that sheet to which I set lire.' ' My dear,' said the manager, ' how often have I urged you not to learn your part on the bed with the candle by your side or in your hand ? You will set fire to your pre- cious self some day.' ' About the sheet. Barret,' continued his wife ; * I've paid for it, and have torn it into four. It will make pocket-handkerchiefs for you, dear.' ' Rather large '? ' asked the manager deferentially ' Bather, but that don't matter. Last longer before coming lo the wash, and so save money in the end.' The manager was now at length able to reach and shake hands with Eve and Jasper. * Bless me, my dear child,' he said to the former, ' yuu remind me wonderfully of your mother. How is she ? I should like to see her again. A sad pity she ever gave up the profession. She had the instincts of an artiste in her, XOAirS ARK 3»3 but no trainl'if^, horribly aniiiti'urisli ; that, however, would lul) off; 'She is (load,' answered Eve. 'Did you not know that ? • ' Dead ! ' exclaimed the manager. ' Poor soul ! so sweet, so simple, so right-minded. Dead, dead ! Ah me ! the angels go to heaven and the sinners are left. Did she remain with your father, or go homo to her own l_)arents '? ' ' I thought,' said Eve, much agitated, ' that you could have told me concerning her.' ' I ! ' Mr. Justice Barret opened his eyes wide. ' I ! ' ' My dear ! ' called Mrs. Darret, ' will you he so good as to throw me over my apron. I am dressing baby for the; night, and heaven alone knows where his little night-shirt is. I'll tie him up in this apron.' 'Does your mother know you're out ? ' asked the parrot with its head on one side, looking at Eve. ' I think,' said Jasper, ' it would be advisable for me to have a private talk with you, Mr. Barret, if you do not mind walking with me in the S(iuare, and then Miss I'^ve Jordan can see you after. Our time is precious.' ' By all means,' answered the manager, * if Miss Jordan will remain with my wife.' ' yes,' said I'^ve, looking at the parrot ; she was alarmed at the bird. ' Do not be afraid of Poll,' said Mr. lUirret. Then to his wife, ' Sophie ! I don't think it Aviso to tie up baby as you propose. He might be throttled. We are going out. Look for the night dress, and let me have the apron again for Polly.' At once the article required rushed like a rocket through the air, and struck the manager on tlie breast. ' There,' said he, 'I Aviil cover Polly, and she will gu to sleep and talk no more.' Then the manager and Jasper went out. ' Now,' said the latter, * in few words I beg you to toll t 'IP 'I t: ■r^Hi'' \A \ w iiv will If" J! |»;i . iJnllBij iil!i:ii KhlH fi^iia 314 EVE I uic what you know al)out the wife of Mr. Jordan of ^lor. well. Sho was my sister.' ' Tndood !— niid your iiiniio ? I forj^'ct what you wrote.' ' iMy name is I5al)l), hut tliat matters nothiuf,'.' ' I never knew that of your sister. Sho would not tell wlieiu'e she came or who she was.' 'From your words just now,' said .Tas])er, 'I p:atlier that you are iniaware that she eloped from ^lorwell with an actor. I could not speak of this heforo her daughter.' ' I'loped with an nclor ! ' repeated tlu^ mana'.'er. ' If she did, it was alter 1 knew her. Kxeuso me, I cannot he- lievo it. She may have •j;one liomo to her fatL-r; he wanted lier to return to him.' ' You know that ? ' ' or course I do. lie eanie to nu", when I was at Tavi- stock, and learned from nu' where she was. lie went to ]\Iorwell to see her once or twice, to induce her to return to him.' ' You nuist he very explicit,' said Jasper gravely. * My sister never came home. Neither my father nor I know to this day what hecame of her.' ' Then she nnt.st have remained at i\Iorwell. Her daughter says she is dead.' ' She did not remain at ]Morwell. She disappeared.' ' This is very extraordinary. I will tell you all I know, hut that is not nnudi. She v;as not with us very long. She fell ill as we were :ey to tlie mystery, and he must be forced to disclose.' •i t: k itiiia 3i6 EVE t CHAPTER XLVIII. IN TART. AfR. Jordan knew more of what went on than Barbara suspected. Jane Welsh attended to him a good deal, and she took a mean delight in spying into the actions of her young mistresses, and making herself acquainted with everything that went on in the house and on the estate. In this she was encouraged by ]\Ir. Jordan, who listened to wliat she told ])im and became excited and suspicious ; and the fact of exciting his suspicions was encouragement to tl).o maid. The vulgar mind liungers for notoriety, and the girl was ilattered by finding that what she hinted stirred the crazy mind of the old man. He was a man prone to suspicion, and to suspect those nearest to him. The recent events at Morwell had made him mistrust his own children. lie could not suppose that Martin Babb had escaped without their coi livance. It was a triumph to the base mind of Jane to stand closer in her master's confidence than his own children, and she iised her best endeavours to thrust herself further in by aggravating his suspicions. Barbara was not at ease in her own mind, she was particularly annoyed to hear that Martin was still in the neighbourhood, on their land ; naturally frank, she was impatient of the constraint laid on her. She heartily de- sired that the time would come when concealments might end. She acknowledged the necessity for concealment, but resented it, and could not quite forgive Jasper for having forced it upon her. She oven chilled in her manner to- wards him, when told that Martin was still a charge. The fact that she was obliged to think of and succour a man with whom she was not in sympathy, reacted on her rela- tions vrith Jasper, aul produced constraint. 'M IN PART 31; That Jane watclietl licr and Jaspor, Btvi-bara did not puspoct. Plonourable herself, she could not believe that another ^Y0uld act dishonourably. She under-valued Jane's abilities She knew her to be a common-minded girl, fond of talking, but she made no allowance for that natural inquisitiveness which is the scedleaf of intelligence. The savage who cannot count beyond the lingers of one hand is a master of cunning. There is this dill'ercnce between men and beasts. The latter bite and destroy the weakly of their race ; men attack, rend, and trample on the noblest of their species. Mr. Jordan knew that Jasper and Eve had gone to- gether for a long journey, and that IJarbara sat up await- ing their return. lie had been left unconsulted, he was uninformed by his daughters, and was very angry. lie waited all next day, expecting something to be said on the subject to him, but not a word was spoken. The weather now changed. The brilliant summer days had suffered an eclipse. The sky was overcast with grey cloud, and cold north-west winds came from the Atlantic, and made t!ie leaves of beech and oak shiver. On the front of heaven, on the face of earth, was written Icha- bod-— the glory is departed. ^Yhat poetry is to the mind, that the sun is to nature. The sun was withdrawn, and the hard light was colourless, prosaic. There was nowhere beauty any more. Two chilly damp days had transformed all. Mr. Jordan shivered in his voom. ' Tiie days seemed to have shortened by a leap. ]\Ir. Jordan, out of perversity, because I>arbara liad advisee! his remaining in, had walked into the garden, and after sliivering there a few minutes had returned to his room, out of humour with his daughter because he felt she was in the right in the counsel she gave. Then Jane came to hi'n, with mischief in her eyes, breathless. ' Please, master,' she said in low tones, look- ing about her to make sure she was not overheard. ' What do y' think, now ! Mr. Jasper have agone to the wcod, .31? -r' !f i!' if ll 'Ill m llWi l^llH 'I'iH Hi! 3i8 EVE [ I it carrying a blanket. What can lie want that for, I'd like to know. He's not tliinking of sleeping there, I reckon.' ' Go after him, Jane,' said Mr. Jordan. ' You are a good girl, ;noro faithful than my own flesh and blood. Do not allow him to see that he is followed.' The girl nodded knowingly, and went out. * Now,' said Mr. Jordan to himself, ' I'll come to the bottom of this plot at last. My own children have turned against me. I will let them see that I can counter-plot. Though I be sick and feeble and old, I will show that I am master still in my own house. Who is there ? ' Mr. Coysho entered, bland and fresh, rubbing his hands. ' Well, Jordan,' said ho— he had become familiar in his address since his engagement — ' how are you ? And my fairy Eve, how is she '? None the worse for her junket ? ' ' Junket ! ' repeated the old man. ' What junket ? * * Bless your soul ! ' said the surgeon airily. ' Of course you think only of curdled milk. I don't allude to that local dish — or rather bowl— I mean Eve's expedition to Plymouth t'other night.' 'Eve -Ply mouth!' * Of course. Did you not know ? Have I betrayed a secret ? Lord bless me, why should it be kept a secret ? She enjoyed herself famously. Knows no better, and thought the performance was perfection. I have seen Kemblo, and Kean, and Vestris. But for a provincial theatre it was well enough.' ' You vent with her to the theatre ? ' * Y'es, I and Mr. Jasper. But don't fancy she went only out of love of amusement. She went to see the manager, a Mr. Justice Thing-a-majig.' * Barret ? ' ' That's the man, because he had known her mother.' Mr. Jordan's face changed, and his eyes stared. He put up his hands as though waving away something that hung before him. IN PART 119 * And Jasper ? ' ' Oh, Jasper was with her. They left me to cat my supper in comfort. I can't afford to spoil my digestion, and I'm particularly fond of crao. You cavniot eat crab in a scramble and do it justice.' ' Did Jasper see the manap^er '? ' ISlr. Jordan's voice was hollow. His hands, which he held deprecatingly before him, quivered. He had his elbows on the arms of his chair. * Oh, yes, of course he did. Don't ycu understand '.' He went with Eve whilst I Ihn.shed the crab. It was really a shame ; they neither of them half cleaned out their claws, they were in such a hurry. " Preciosa " was not amiss, but I preferred crab. One can get plays better elsewhere, but crab nowhere of superior quality.' Mr. Jordan began to pick at the horse-hair of his chair arm. There was a hole in the cover and his thin white nervous fingers plucked at the stufling, and pulled it out and twisted it and threw it down, and plucked again. ' What — what did Jasper hear '? ' he asked falteringly. ' How can I tell, Jordan '? I was not with them. I tell you, I was eating my supper quietly, and chewing every mouthful. I cannot bolt my food. It is bad— un- principled to do so.' ' They told you nothing ? ' 'I made no inquiries, and no information was volun- teered.' A slight noise behind him made Coysho turn. Eve was in the doorway. ' Here she is to answer for hers<'lf,' said the surgeon. ' Eve, my love, your father is curious about your excursion to Plymouth, and wants to know all you heard from the manager. ' Oh, papa ! I ought to have told you ! ' stammered Eve. ' What did he say ? ' asked the old man, half-impa- tiently, half fearfully. ' Look here, governor,' said the surgeon ; ' it strikes '! 'wii '''i 11 w '.\m 320 F.VE ^l m^ mc that you arc not actiiifj straight with the girl, and :iq slie is about to hccomo my -wife, I'll stand up for her and say what is fitting. I cannot sec the fun of forciiig hc-r to run away a day's journey to pick up a few scraps of information about her motlier, when you keep locked up in your own liend all that she wants to know. I can un- derstand and malvO allowance for vou not liking to tell her everything, if things were not — as is reported- quite ecclesiastically square between you and the hidy. ]jut Eve is no longer a child. I inteiul her to become my wife, and sooner or later she must know all. Make a clean breast and tell everything.' ' Yes,' said Jasper entering, ' the advice is good.' ' You come also ! ' exclaimed the old man, firing p and pointing with trembling fingers to the intruder ; ' yon come— i/ou who have led my children inio disobedience ? My own daughters are in league against me. As for this girl, ]"]ve, whom I have loved, who has been to me as the apple of my eye, she is false to me.' * Oh, papa ! dear papa ! ' pleaded Eve with tears, ' do not say iliis. ^t is not true.' ' Not true ? AVhy do you practise concealment fj'om me ? Wliy d j you carry about with you a ring which Mi-. Coyshe never gave you ? Produce it, I have been told about it. You have left it on your table and it has been seen, a ring with a turquoise forget-me-not. AYlio gave you that '? Answer me if you dare. ^V]lat is the mean- ing of these rumiings to and fro into the woods, to the rocks ? ' The old man worked himself into wildness and want of consideration for his child, and for Coyshe to whom she was engaged. ' Listen to me, you,' he turned to the surgeon, holding forth his stick which he had caught up ; ' you shall judge between us. This girl, this daughter of mine, has met again and again in secret a man whom I liatc, a man who robbed his own father of money that belonged to me, a man who has been a jail-bird, an escaped felon. Is not this so ? Eve, deny it if you can.' IN PART 'Father!' bc2:an Eve, trcnibliii'' vou arc i 11 vou arc excited.' • Answer me ! ' he shouted so loud as to make all stavl, striking at the same time the floor with his stick, * have vou not met him in secret ? ' She hung her head and sohbcd. m in ]iiaki Y( ided that h A\Q\\ \\ escape ■was in the hands of the police. I brought the police upon liim, and you worked to deliver him. Answer mo. ^Vas it not so ? ' 81ie faintly murmured, ' Yes.' This had been but a conjecture of Mr. Jordan. IL.' was emboldened to proceed, but now .''".isper stood forward, grave, collected, facing ihc white, wild old man. ' 'Slv. Jordan,' he said, ' that man of v.'hom you speak is my brother. I am to blame, not ]\Iiss Eve. Actively neither I nor — most assuredly — your daughter assisted in hi-; escape ; but I will not deny that I was aware he meditat <\ evasion, and he effected it, not through active assistance given him, but because his guards were careless, and be- cause I did not indicate to them the means whereby ho was certain to get away, and which I saw and they over- looked.' ' Stand aside,' shouted the angry old man. He loved Eve more than he loved anyone else, and as is so often tlie case Avlien the mind is unhinged, his suspicion and wralli were chiefly directed against his l)ost beloved, lie strucl; at Jasper with his stick, to drive him on one side, and he shrieked with fury to live, who cowered and shrank from him. ' You have met this felon, and you love him. Tliat, is why I have had such diflicultv with vou to <'ot vor. • consent to ]\[v. ('ovslio. Is it not so'? Come, answer.' 'I like poor ^Martin,' sobbed l^ve. ' I forgive him for taking my money ; it was not his fault.' ' bee there ! she confesses all. ' Who gave you that ring with the blue stones of which I have been told ? It did not belong to your mother. Mr. Coyshc never gavo ! t« illi i» 'm Ill :iii|i •iil li'iii it ■fl 32: EVE '^^• ii, you. Answer me at onco or I \yI11 throw my stick at you. \Ylio gave youtluit ring? ' Tlio surgeon, in bis sublime self-conceit, not for u moment supposing tbat any otber man bad been prefcrrcil to bimsclf, tbinldng tbat ]Mr. Jordan was olf bis bead, turned to ]^ve and said in a low voice, ' Jlumour bini. ll is safest. Say wbat be wisbes you to say.' * Martin gave me tbe ring,' she answered, trend)ling. ' Ilow came you one tinn; to be witbout your niotlicr's ring? ]iow came you at anotlier to be possessed of it V l".x])lain tbat.' ]"jve tbrew berself on lur knees witb a cry. ' Oil, papa ! dear papa ! aslc mo no more (pustions.' 'Listen all to me,' said ]\Ir. Jordan, in a loud bard vcjice. lie rose from bis cbair, resting a band on eacb arm, and bcaving bimseU* into an uprigbt position. His face was livid, bis eyes burned like coals, bis bair bristled on bis bead, as tbougb electrified. He came forward, walking witb feet wide apart, and witb bis bands u])lifted, ;nid stood over Eve still kneeling, gazing up at bim with terror. 'Listen tome, all of you. I know more tban any of you suppose. I spy wbere you are secret. Tbat man wbo robbed me of my money bas lurked in tliis neigbbourbood to rob me of my cbild. bball I tell you wbo bo is, tliis felon, wbo stole fron\ bis fatber? lie is lier mother's brother, Eve's micle.' Eve stared with blank eyes into his face, Martin — her micle 1 Bhc uttered a cry and covered her eyes. CHAPTER XLIX. Till'] OLD GUN. ^fn. JoEDAN was alone in bis re om. Evening had set in, the room \s'as not oidy chilly, it was dark. lie sat in his leather-backed h:atber-armeu chair with his stick in his THE OLD GU.V Isct in. Ill lii^ 1111 liis hands, — in both hands, held across him, and now and then ho put the stick up to liis mouth and gnawed at it in the middle. At others he made a sudden movement, slipping his hand down to the ferule and striking in the air with the handle at the black spots which lloated in the darkness, of a blackness most intense. He was teased by them, and by his inability to strike them aside. Ills stick went through them, as through ink, and they closed again when cut, and drifted on through his circle of vision un- hurt, undisturbed. Mr. CoysliG was gone ; ho had ordered the old nmu to be left as much in quiet as might be, and he had taken a boy from the farm with him on a horse, to bring bade a soothing drauglit whicli he promised to send. ]\lr. Jor- dan had complained of sleeplessness, his nerves were evi- dently in a high and perilous state of tension. Before he left, ]\rr. Coyshe had said to r>arl)ai'a, 'Keep an eye on your father, there is irritation somewhere, lie talks in an un- reasoning manner. I will send him something to compose him, and call again to-morrow. In the meantime,' he coughed, 'I — I — would not allow him to shave; himself.' Barbara's blood curdled. ' You do not tl.'ink — ' She was unable to finish her sentence.' ' Do as I say, and do not allow him to suppose himself watched.' Now Barbara actcul with unfortunate indiscretion. Knowing that her father was suspicious of her, and com- plained of her observing him, knowing also that his sus- picions extended to Jasper whom he disliked, knowing also that he had taken a likhig for Jane, she bade Jane remain about her father, and not allow him to be many minutes unwatched. Jane immediately went to the old g'^'ntleman, and told him the instructions given her. ' xVnd — please your honour,' she crept close to him, ' I've seen him. lie is on the Kavcn Rock, lie has lighted a lire and is warming himself. I think it be the very man that was took hero, Y 2 I ■ill .mm 324 EVE but I can't say foi' certiiiii, as I didn't rog tlio face of lilin as Avas took, nor of him on the Hock, hut they ho holii men, and nnich about a height.' ' Jane ! Is Joseph anywhere about ? ' ' No sir,— not nigher than Tavistock.' * Go to liim immediately. IHd him coUect what men he can, and surroimd the fellow and secure liim.' ' 15ut, your honour ! j\Iiss ]^>arbara said I was to watch you as a cat watclies a mouse.' ' "Who is master here, I or she '.' I order you to 1,^0 ; and if slic is angry I ^vill protect you against her. I am to be Avatclied, am I:' IJy my own children? liy my servant? This is more than I can bear. The ^vhole world is conspiring ig:iinst me. How can I trust anyone — even Jane ? llow can I say that the police were not bribed before to let him go ? And they may bo bribed again. Trust none but thyself,' he nnittered, and stood up. ' Please, master,' said Jane, ' you may be certain I will do what vou want. I'm not like s.;me folks, as is un- natural to their very parents. Why, sir! wliat do y' think ? As I were a coming in, who should run by me, looking the pictur' of fear, but Miss I^ve. And where do y' think her runned ? Why, sir — I watched her, and her went as fast as a leu})ing hare over the fields towards llio Raven Jlock. — to where he be. Well, I'm sure I'd not do that. 1 don't mind a-going to love feasts in chapel with Joseph, but I wouldn't go seeking him in a wood. Home folks have too nuu-li self-respect for that, I reckon.' Slio muttered this looking up at the old man, uncertain how he would take it. ' Go,' said ho. ' TiOave me— go at once.' Presently ikirbara came in, and found her father alone. ' What, no one with you, papa ? ' 'No — I want to be alone. Do you grudge me quiet? Must I live under a microscope ? Must I have everything THE OLD CUN V-l I do marked, cvoiy ^V()nl noted? AVliy do you peer in here ? Am I an escaped felon to be j^uarded ? Am I likely to break out ? Will you leave me ? I tell you I do not want you here. I desire solitude. I liave had you and Coyslie and I'.ve jabberiiiLj here till my head spins and my temples an- burstini,'. Leave me alone.' Then, with the craftiness of incipient derangement, he said, 'I have had two — three bad nights, and want sleep. I was dozing in my chair when Jane eanio in to light a fire. I sent her out. Then, when I was nodding oil' again, I heard cook or Jasper tramping through the hall. Tliat roused mo, and now when I hoped to compose! myself again, you thrust yourself upon me ; arc you all in a league to drive mo mad, by forbidding mo sleep ? That is how Hopkins, the witch-finder, got the poor wretches to confess. He would not suffer them to sleep, and at last, in sheer madness and hunger for rest, they confessed whatever was desired of them. You want to force something out of me. That is why you will not let me sleep.' ' Papa dear, I shall be so glad if you can sleep. I pro- mise you shall be left quite alone for an hour.' • - an hour ! limited to sixty minutes.' ' Dear papa, till you rap on the wall, to intimate that you are awake.' ' You will not pry and peer ? ' ' No one shall come near you. I will forbid cveryono the hall, lest a step on the pavement should disturb you.' * What are vou doing there '? ' ' Taking away your razor, papa.' Then he burst into a shrill, bitter laugh — a laugh that shivered through her heart. He said nothing, but remained chuckling in his chair. ' I dare say Jasper will sharpen them for you, papa, ho is very kind,' said Barbara, ashamed of her dissimulation. So it came about that the old half-crazy squire was left in the gathering gloom entirely alone and unguarded. Nothing could do him more good than a refreshing sleep, Barbara '.«.. m m r '1 illl m m S1 1: m 'M! fall II 326 EVE '% argued, aiitl ^Y(■lli uwuy io lior own room, Avlicrc slic lit Ji candle, drew down lier blind, and set herself to ncedle- worL:. Siio had done \vluit she could. The pantry adjoined tlic room of her failier. Jane would hear if he knocked or called. Slie did not know that Jane was f,'one. IgnatiuH Jordan sat in the armchair, biting at his stick, or beating in tlie air with it at the blots which troubled his vision. These black spots took various shapes ; some- times they were bats, sometimes falling leaves. Then it appeared to him as if a fluid that was blacK but with a crimson glow in it as of a subdued hidden fire was running and dri])ped from ledge to ledge — invisible ledges they were — in the air before him. lie put his stick out to touch the stream, and then it ran along the sticlc and llowed on his hand and he uttered a cry, because it burned him. He held his hand up open before him, and thong] it the palm was black, but with glowing red veins inter- secting tlie blaclaiess, and he touched the lines with the linger of his left hand. * The line of A'enus,' he said, ' strong at the source, fiery and broken by tliat cross cut — the line of life — long, thin, twisted, tortured, nowlicre smooth, and here — AVhat is this? — the end.' Then he looked at the index finger of his left hand, the finger that had traced the lines, and it seemed to be alight or smouldering, with red fire. lie heard a strange sound at the window, a sound shrill and unearthly, close as in his ear, and yet certahily not in the room. lie held his bi-eath and looked round, lie could sec nothing tln'ongh tlie glass but the grey evening sky, no face looking in and crying at the window. ^Vllat was it ? As he looked it was repeated. In his excited condition of mind he did not seek for a natural explanation. It was a spirit call urging him on. It was silent. Then again repeated. Had he lighted the candle and examined the glass he would have seen a large snail THE OLD GUX T~l ■I cra\vllii,i]; up tlio piiiic, ci'caliii.L,' llie soiiiul by (.he vibration of tlio fjrUiss as it drew itsdi' aloii.L,'. "J'lieu Ml'. Jordan roso out of his cli;iir, and lookiii;,,' cautiously from side to side and timorously at the window whence the shrill sound coiniiiucd, he unlocked a cup- board in the panelling and drew from it powder and shot. ] Barbara had taken away his razors. She feared lest ho should do himself an injury ; but thouudi lie was weary of his life, he had no thouj^dit of hastonin;,' his departure from it. His mind was set with dt'.idly resolution of hate on Martin — ^Martin, that man v/ho had robbed him, who escaped from him as often as ho was taken. Everyone was in lca,i,nic to favour ]\Iartin. No one was to he trusted to punish him. He nmst make sure that the man did not escape this time. This time ho would rely on no one but himself, lie crossed the room with soft step, opened the door, and entered the hall. There he stood lookin,cr about him. lie could hear a distant noise of servants talkin.i,' in the kitchen, but no one was near, no eye observed him. Barbara, true to her promise, was upstairs, believing him asleep. The hall was dark, but not so dark that he could not distinguish what ho sought. Some one passed with a light outside, a maid going to the wash-hous(>. The light struck through the transomed window of the hall, painting a black cross against the wall opposite, a black cross that travelled quickly and fell on the old man, creeping along to the fire-place, holding the wall. lie remembc'red the Midsummer Day seventeen years ago when he had stood there against that wall with arms extended in the blaze of the setting sun as a crueilied ligui'e against the black shadow of the cross. His life had been one long crucifixion ever sinec, and his cross a shadow. Then Ik; stood on a hall chair and took down from its crooks an old gun. ' Seventeen years ago,' ho muttered. ' My God ! it failed not then, may it not fail me now I ' 'II'' •jl ti W- S! II' 328 EVE CIIArTER L. ]>Y Tin; ]"iui;. Mahtin ^vns wcarv of tlio Avoodniaii's hut, us lie was before Avcary of tlic niiiie. AViitt luul liurd work to pacify him. His rlu'iiniatism was better. Neither Jasper nor WaUtr I'ouhl (U'cide how far tlic attack was real and liow far simu- lated. Probably ho really suiVered, and exaggerated his sulferings to provoke sympathy. AVhilst the weather was sunnnery he endured his capti- vity, for he could lie in the sun on a hot rock and smoke or whistle, with his liands in his pockets, and Martin loved to lounge and be idle ; but when the weather changed, he be- came restive, ill-humoured, and dissatisfied. AVhat aggr vated his discontent was a visit from ]}arl)ara, whom found it impossible to impress with admiration for his manly beauty and pity for his sorrows. * That girl is a beast,' ho said to Walter, when she was gone. * I really could hardly be civil to her. A perfect Caliban, devoid of taste and feeling. Upon my word some of our fellow-beings are without humanitv. I could see tlnougli that person at a glance. She is made up of seliishness. If there be one quality most repulsive to me, that is it— selfishness. I do not believe the ere .ture cast a thought upon me, my wants, my sufferings, my peril. Watt, if she shows her ugly face here again, stand against the door, and say, " Not at home." ' ' Dear Martin, wo will go as soon as you are well enough to leave.' ' Whither are we to go ? I cannot join old Barret and his wife and monkeys and babies and walking- sticks of actors, as long as he is in the county. I would go to Bristol or Bath or Cheltenham if I had money, but these miserly Jordans will not find me any. They want to drive /;)' 77//; nur. 329 nio away without iir.st liuiii^Lf my nockct. 1 know wliat was meant by those cokl nkibs of nuittcn, to-thiy. It meant, go away. I wait till they give me money.* • Dear ^[a^tin, vou must not bo ineonsidenite.' •I gk)ry ill it. \Vliat li.ivni comes of it J It is youi" long-headed, prudent pr()i)liets who get into scrapes and can't get out of them agiiii:. I never calcuUite; 1 act on impulse, and that always biini^s me right.' • Not always, ]\Iartin, or you would not bo here.' ' 0, yes, even here. When the impulse comes on mo to go, I shall go, and you will lind I goat tlie right time. If tbat Mis.? Jordan conus Jiere again with her glum ugly jnug, I shall be off. Or .lasper, looking as if llus end of the world wero come. I can't siand that. See how cleverly I got away from Prince's Town.' ' I helped you, ]\lartin.' ' I do not pretend that I did all myself. I did escape, and a brilliantly executed mamiuvre it was. I thought I was caught in a cleft stick when I dropped on the party of beaks at the " IFare and Hounds," but see how splendidly I got away. I do believe, Watt, I've missed my calling, and ought to have been a general in the British army.' * ])ut, dear ]\Iartin, generals have to schema other things beside running awav.' * None of your impudence, you jaclumapes. I tell you I do not scheme. I act on the spur of the moment. If I had lain awake a week planning i could have done nothing better. The inspiration comes to me the momi'iit 1 require it. Your vulgar man always does the wrong thing when an emergency arises. By heaven. Watt ! this is a dog's life I am leading, and not worth living. 1 am shivering. The damp worms into one's bones. I shall go out on the Hock.' ' O, INhirtin, stav here. It is waiiiur in this hut. A cold wind blows.' ' It is midwinter here, and can't be more Siberia-like out there. I am sick of the smell of dry leaves. I am "' jjj I cannot believe in your illness. Your lack of common consideration is the cause of incessant annoyance to your friends. That fire shall go out.' He Avont to it resolulely, and kicked it apart, and throw some of the llaniing oak sticks over the edge of tlie precipice. ' I hope you are satisfied now,' said Martin sulkily. * You have spoiled my pleasure, robbed mo of my only comfort, and have gained onlv this— that I wash mv hands of you, and will leave this place to-night. I will no longir remain near you — inhuman, unbrotherly as you arc' ' I am very glad to hear that you are going,' answrri'd Jasper. ' You shall have my horse. That horse is my own, and he will carry vou awav. Send Walter for it wluni you like. I will sec that the stal)lo-door is open, and the saddle and bridle handy. The horse is in a stable near the first gate, away from the house, and c;ni be taken unob- served.' ' You are mightily anxious to be rid of me,' sneered Martin. ' And this is a brother ! ' I had brought you a blanket off my own bed, because I supposed you were cold.' '1 will not have it,' said ]\Iartin sharnlv. 'If vou shiver for want of your blanket I shall be blamed. Your heart will overflow with gall against poor me. Keep your blanket to curl up in yourself. I shall lca.V(; to-m"ght. 1 jiave too much proper pride to stay where 1 am not wanted, with a brother who begrudges me a scrap of iire.' Jasper held out his hand. ' I must go back at once,' he said. ' If you leave to-night it may be years before wi> meet again. Come, Martin, vou know me betti'r than vour ■words implv. Do not take it ill that I have destroved voiu' lire. I thiidv only of your safety. Give mo your hand, brother ; your interest lies at my heart.' ]Martin would not touch the proffered liand, he folded his arms and turned away. Jasper looked at him, long and sadly, but Martin would not relent, and he left. ' Get the embers together again,' ordered Martin. iiiiH I II I "I i!j:! '\\\ "1 lii' f i^! 1 '"II i ii 1 " 1 f III, : ■ II hi. «■■ 334 KVE ' I'luler the Scottish fir arc lots of cones full of rosin ; pile tlioni on tlio fire, and make a h'v^ Lla/o. Lot Jasper so(i it. I will show him that I am not .i^'oing to he hoaten by his insolence.' lie Watt. may liave been rouGjh, but lie was ri''ht,' said Oh ! you also turn ai^'ainst rue ! A viper I have clie- rislied in mv bosom ! ni TJio boy si,t,died ; ho dare no l(Mi,L;'or refuse, and he s nr^ rowfully ^atliered the scattorod firo together, fanned the embors, applied to them bits of dry fern, then lir cones, and soon a brilliant jet of yellow Ibnuc l(';i])od iiloft. Martin raised himself to liis full hei,^ht that tlie iu'o might iihnninato liim from head to foot, and so he stood, with his arms folded, tliinking- what a ihie fellow he was, and regrcttiiig that no appreciative eye was there to see liim. ' AVhat a splendid creature man is ! ' s^iid he to himself or Walter. ' So great in liimself ; '.tud yet, how little and mean ho boconu'S through sellishness! I pity Jasper — from my heart I pity him. I am not an;';i'y— oidy sorry.' CIlArTEB JJ. A HIIOT. ' Of all things I could have desired — the best ! ' exclaimed Martin IJabb as ]'],vecamc from the cover of the wood upon tho rocky lloor. She was out of breath, and could not speah. She put both hands on her breast to control her breathing and quiet her throbbing heart. ^Martin drew one foot over the other, poising it on tho toe, and allowed the yellow hrolight to play over his hand- some face and fine form. The appreciative eye was there. ' Lovelier than ever ! ' oKclaimed ]\Iartin. ' Prcciosa come to the forest to Alonzo, not Alonzo to I'reciosa. ill.. A SHOT 335 Tllcfor(■■^t ,arccn I AV'horc warm tlic siniimcr .sliccn ; And echo call.", And calls — tlirouLili leafy lialls. n "ah for the life 'iicatli the i^i't'cnwood tree ! Mj'liorn and niv dous and niv uuii Tur nicl Tranih! "Trarah 1 Trarali !' Ho sang the first vovso of tlio p^ipsy eliorn.i! with rich tones. IIo luid a l)Oiiiitiful voice, and lie know it. The son,!,' Iiad given ]ier liniu to obtain breatli, and she said, ' Oh, ;^hu■tin, you must go — you must indeed ! ' ' Why, my Pre eiosa ? ' ' 'Sly father knows all— bow, I cannot conjecture, but he does know, and he will ]iot s]iaro you.' ' My sweet flower,' said ^Martin, not in the least ubu'med, ' the old gentleman cannot hurt ^\u\ lie camiot Jiimself fetch the dogs of justice and set them on me; and ho can- not send for them without your consent. There is plenty of time for mo to give them the slip. All is arranged. To- night I leave on Jasper's horse, which ho is good enough to lend mo.' ' You do not know my father. lie is not alone— ^ifr. Coyslio is with him. I cainiot answer for whath(> may do.' ' Hah ! ' said jMartin, ' I see ! Jealousy may sp>. him on. Ho knows that wo are rivals. A\'att, bo off with vou after the horse. Perhaps it would bo better if I wore to depart. I would not spare that pill-compounding Coyshe were he in my power, and I cannot expect him to spare me.' Ho spoke, and his action was stagy, calculated to impress I'.ve. ' My dear Walter,' said :\lart)n, ' go to ^Morwell some other way than the direct path ; workmen may l)o about— the hour is not so late.' The boy did not wait for further orders. ' You need not fear for me,' said the escaped convict. •Even if that despicable roll-pill set off to collect men, I would escape him. I have but to leave this spot, and I am safe I presume not one of my pursuers will bo mounted.' i ' I Ml i! li ! i"l! !|i(i iiilf ,. !i :'■ !i;||! 336 EVE ' Wliy have you a lire here ? ' ' The fire matters iiotliin.^s' said Martin grandly ; ' in- deed ' — lie collected more fircones and threw them on — ' indeed, if the form of tlic haro is to bo discovered, let it he discovered warm. The hunters will search the im- mediate neighbourhood, and the hare will be flying far, far away.' ' Y .1 Iniow best, of course ; but it seems to mc very dangerous.' ' I laugh at danger ! ' exclaimed ]\[artin, throwing a fag- got on the flames. ' I disport in danger as the seamew in the storm.' lie unfolded his arms and \vaved them over the fire as a bird Happing its wing-. ' And now,' ho v.'cnt on, ' i loavc you — you — to that blood letter, AVliy do I trouble myself about my own Avorthless existence, when you are about to f.iU a prey to his ravening jaw ? Xo, l^ve, that must never be.' ' ]\[artin,' said Eve, 'I must really go home. I only ran lure to "warn vou to be off, and to tell you something. ]\ry father has just said that my mother ^vas your sister.' lie looked at her in silriK-o for sonic moments in real astonishment — so real that he dropped his affected attitude and expression of face. ' Can this be possible ! ' * lie declared before Mr. Coyshe and me that it was so.' ' You have the same name as my lost sister,' said ^Martin. ' ller I hardly remember. iShe ran away from home ^vhen I was very young, and what became of her we nevir heard. If my father knew, he was silent about his know- ledge. I am sure -lasper (hd not know.' ' And ]Mr. Darret, the manager, did not know either,, added Eve. ' \Vhen my mother was with him she bore a feigned name, and said nothing about her parents, nor told where was her homo.' Then Martin recovered himself and laughed. ' ^Vlly, Eve,' said he, * if this extraordinary story \)f liu set lee yoi tak ass rea Evi iro A SHOT 337 ti'uc, I am your uucle iiiul luitural protcctoi'. Tliis liiis settled the nuitter. You sliall uevor have tluit bolus-maker, leech-applier, Coyslu'. J forhid it. I sliall stand hetwceii vou and the altar of sacrifice. I extend iiiv ^vill'^ and vou take refui];e under it. I throw niv inaiitlc over vou and assure you of my protection. The situation is really — really quite dramatic' ' Do not Stand so near tlie ed^'c of the precipice,' pleaded I'.ve. * 1 always stand on the ver.'^e of precipices, hut lU'Ver ij;o over,' he answered. '1 s])ealc metaphorically. Now, Kve, the way is clear. You shall run away from home as did your mother, and you shall run away with me. Re- member, I am your natural protector.' *I cannot — I cannot indee(h" I'lve shrank back. ' I swear you shall,' said Martin impetuously. ' It may seem strange that I, who am in personal danger myself, should consider you : but such is my nature — I never regard self when I can do an heroic action. I say, Kve, you shall go with me. I am a man witli a governing will, to which all must stoop. You have trilled ^vith the doctor and with me. I hate; that man l]u)ug1i 1 ha\e never seen him. I would he were here and 1 would send him, spec- tacles and all ' ' He does not wear spectacles.' ' Do not interrupt. I speak symbolically. Spectacles and all, I repeat, with his bottles of leeches, and pestle and mortar, and pills and lotions, over the edge of this precipice into perdition. Good heavens ! if I leave and you remain, I sliall be coming back — I cannot keep away. If I escape, it must be with you or not at all. You have a horse of your own : you shall ride with me. "\'ou liave a purse : till it and bring it in your pocket. ])iamonds, silver spoons — anything.' She was too frightened to know what to say. Ho, coward and bully as he was, saw his advantage, and as- sumed the tone of bluster. ' Do you understand me ? I z 1 1 li \iU\ 538 FA'E ■w ill not be trifled with. The thing is settled : you conio Avith me.' ' I cannot — indeed I cannot,' said Eve despairinf^ly. * You little fool ! Tliinlc of what you saw in the theatre. That is the proper sphere for you, as it is for me. You ■were born to live on the stage. I am glad you have told mo what became of my sister. The artistic instinct is in us. The fire of genius is in ourliearts. You cannot drag out life hi such a hole as this : you must come into the world. It was so with your mother. Whose example can you follow hdter than that of a mother? ' ' My father would ' ' Y'our father will not he surprised. ^Vhat is born in the bono comes out in the flesh. If your mother was an actress — you must be one also. Compare yourself with your half-sister. Is there; soul in that mass of common- place '? Is there fire in that cake ? Her mother, you may be certain, was a pudding — a common vulgar suet-pudding. We beings of Genius belong to another world, and we must live in that world or perish. It is settled. Y"ou ride witli me to-night. I shall introduce you to the v.'orld of art, and you will soon be its most brilliant star.' 'Hark!' exclaimed I'^ve, starting. 'I heard some- thing stir.' J)0th were silent, and listened. They stood opposite each other, near the edge of the precipice. The darkness had closed in rapidly. ^J'he cloudy sky cut off the last light of day. Far, far below, the livcr cast up at one sweep a steely light, but for the most part of its course it was lost in the inky murkincss of the shadows of mountain, forest, and roek. Away at a distance of several miles, on the side of the dark dome of llingston Hill, a red star was glimmering — the light from a miner's or moorman's cabin. The ih'e that fiickered on the platform cast ilashes of gold on the nearest oak boughs, but was unable to illumine the gulf of darkness that vawned under the forest trees. A SHOT 339 ]Martin stood facinq; tlio wood, with his back to tlio abyss, and tlio li^dit ii'radiated his handsome features. Eve timidly IooIccmI at him, and thought how nol)lo lu> seemed. ' Was it the sound of a horse's hoof you heard? ' aslvcd Martin. ' ^^'alt(•r is coming with Jasper's horse.' 'I thought a bush moved,' answered Eve, * and that I heard a click.' * It is nothing,' said IMartin, ' nothing but an attempt on your part to evade the force of my argument, to div( r;. the current of my speech. You women squirm like eels. There is no holding you save by running a stick through your gills. ]\Iind you, I have decided your destiny. It will bo my pride to malce a great actress of you. What applause you will gain ! What a life of merriment you will lead ! I shall take a pride in the thought that I have snatched you away from under tlic nose of that doctor. Pshaw!' — he paused — 'p haw! .1 do not believe that story about your mother being my sister. Whether she were or not matters nothing. You, ]lk(3 myself, lri\o a soul, and a soul that cannot live on a farmyard dnngheap. ^^'hat is that ! I hear a foot on tlic l>racken. Can it ho Watt ;> ' Ho was silent, listening. He began to feel uneasv. Then from behind the wood came the shrill clangour of a bell. * Something has happened,' said Eve, in great terror. * That is the alarm bell of our house.' ' My God !' cried :\hirtin, ' wliat is Wati about ! lie ought to have been here.' In s])ite of his former swagger he became uneasy. ' Curse him, for a dawdle ! am I going to stick here till taken because he is lazy ? That bell is ringing still.' It was pealing loud and fast. ' I shall leave this rock. If I were taken again I should never escape more. Seven years ! seven years in prison — why, tlu." best part of my hfe would be gone, and you — I should see you no more. When I came forth you would bo Mrs. Sawbones. ' II >i iitti ml 340 F.VE I swear by God tluit shall not be. Eve ! I will not have it. If I f,'et off, you shall follow me. Hark ! I hear the tramp of the horse.' lie threw up his hands and uttered a shout of joy. lie I'an forward to the fire, and stood by it, with the full glare of the blazing Ih'cones on his en.^'cr face. * Eve ! joy, joy ! here comes help. I will make you mount behind me. We will ride away together. Come, wo must meet Watt at the gate' A crack, a flash. ^lartin staggered back, and put his hand to his breast. Eve fell to her knees in speechles.^ terror. ' Come here,' ho said hoarsely, and grasped her arm. ' It is too late : I am struck, I am done for.' A shout, and a man was seen plunging through the bushes. ' Eve ! ' said Martin, ' I will not lose you.' He dragged her two paces in his arms. All power of resistance was gone from her. ' That doctor shall not have you— I'll spoil that at least.' He stooped, kissed her lips and cheek and brow and eyes, and in a moment flung himself, with her in his arms, over the edge of the precipice into the black abyss. CHAPTER LII. THE WHOLE. A MOMENT later, only a moment later, and a moment too late, Mr. Jordan reached the platform, having beaten the branches aside, regardless of the leaves that lashed his face and the brambles that tore his hands. Then, when he saw that he was too late, he uttered a cry of despair. He flung his gun from him, and it went over the edge and fell where it was never found again. Then he raised his arms over his head and clasped them, and brought them down on his arbara had discovered that her father had left the house, and, in fear for the consequences, was summoning the workmen from their cottages to assist in finding him. Watt reappeared in great agitation, and, without cast- Tlil iifi' ,1, Mill] 342 EVE in^' a look at tlio iiisensiblo man, said, ' lie is not there, lu! may bu bade in llio miiu'. JIu iiiiiy liavu iiiilocla'il tho l)()aLli<)U.sc and bu rowiuj; ovc\' tho Tamar, or down — no— tho tide is out, lu; caunot j^'et doAvn.' Then away he went ii;^'aiii iiitcj llie wood. ]\Ii'. -loi'dan lay Ion;.;' insensible, lie had lost niiicli blood. Jasper knelt by Jihn. All was now still. The bell "SVtVS no lon,Ljer pealing. No step could be heard. The bats llitted about the roek ; the lire-embers snapped. The wind .si,L;lu'd and [liped amon^^' the tri cs. The lire had eonnnuni- cated itself to some dry j^'rass, and a tuft flamed up, then a lilllo spluttering ikiuie crept along fioui grass haulm and twig" to a tuft of heather, which it kiiulkd, and which Iku'ed up. Jasper, luieeling by]\Ir. Jordan, watched tho progress oi the fire witliout paying it much attention, lu moments oi a.nxiety tii'hjs catch the eye. He dare not leave the old man. lie waited till those who had Inen summoned by the bell came that way. Tresently Ignatius Jordan opent J liis eyes. * Eve ! ' ho said, and his dim om'-. searched the i'eeblv illuniiuated platfornr 'I'Jien he laid his ^'eau \u\v\i again on the moss and was unconscious or lost m dream — J;isper could not decide Avliich. Jasper V'nt t > he ilrc .nd threw on some Avoodand collected more. The stronger the llamo the more likely to attract the notice of the searchers, lie trod out the lire Avlurc it stole, snakelilce, along tlui Avithered grass tliat sprouted out of tlu; cracl-:s in the siu'face of the roclc. lie went to tlie edge of the pri'ci])ice, arid listened in hopes of hearing something, he luiidly knew what — a sound that nn'ght tell him ^\'alter had found his brother. llciiLard )u)t]:ing — ]io dip uf oars, no ra'tle of a ebain, from the depths and darkness b low . lie returned to "^fr. Jordan, and saw that he Avas conscious and recognised him. The old man signed to him U: draw near. ^ The end is at hand. The blood has ncarh all ran out. Lutii are smitten — both the guilty and the guiltless.' Jasper supposed he was w;mdering in his mind. THE WHOLE 343 You lire lai" ' I \vill tell you nil,' Siiiil the old 11:1111. Lrotlicr, iiiul on,L,'lit to know.' ' You are speiikin.i,' cf my lost sister l\vi' ! ' said Jasper ca!4erly. Not a suspicion crossed his mind that anylhiiiL,' had happened to the .i^ii'l. 'I shall soon rejoin her, ;iiid tlie other as well. Iwoull not speak belbre because ol' my child. I could not bear . that she should look with horror on her father. Now it matters not. She has i'olloved her mother. The need for silence is taken away. ^Vait ! I must .i^'athir my strength., I cannot si'cak for lon-jf.' Then from the depths of darkiie'ss below the rock, camo the hoot of an owl. Jasper knew that it ^vas Watt's signal to Martin — that he ^Yas searching for him still. No an- swering hoot came. ' \'ou went to Plymouth. \'ou saw the manager who had known my Eve. What did he say '.*' ' He told mo very little.' ' Did lie tell you where she was '.* ' ' No. lie saw her for the last time on this rock, lit; had been sent here by her father, who was unable to keep his appointment.' « Go on.' ' That is all. She refused to desert you and her child. It is false that she ran away with an actor.' ' Who said she had ? Not I — noL I. Her own father, her own father — not I.' ' Then what became of her? I\rr. JIarret told me ho had been to see her here at ]\Iorwell once or twice whilst the company was at Tavistock, and found her happy. After that my father came a::d tried 10 induce her to return to Buckfastleigli with him.' j\Ir. Jordan put out his white thin hand and laid it on Jasper's wrist. ' You need say no more. The end is come, and I will tell you all. I knew that one of the actors came out and saw her — not once only, but twice — and then her father ill!!:: if 1 1 )■' ''it III I! 1, III'*' :|i*! If %s ilfe 344 EVE C'tinn', iiiul slie met Jiiiu in sccrol, licro in the wood, on tliis rock. I (lid not know tliat lie whom slie met was ht'i' father. I supposed slie was slill nietlin.i,' the actor pri- vately. 1 was jealous. I loved I-'.ve. ()h,niy(iod! \\\\ (iod ! ' he put his liands a^'ainst his temples — ' when liave I ctased to love her ".' ' lie did not speak for some moments. Ai,':iin from the depths, hut more distant, came the to-whoo of the owl. ]\Ir. .loi'dan removed his hands from his hrow and laid them ilal at his side on the I'ock'. ' I was hut a country ij^entleman, v»ilh linmhle pursuits — a silent man, ^\ho did not care for society — and 1 knew that I could not compare with the witty attractive men of the world. 1 knew that Morwell was a solitary place, and that there were few luii^hhours. 1 helieved that Eve was unhappy here : I thought she was pining' t(j ,l,'o hack to the merry life she liad led with llu' jjlayers. 1 thouj^dit she was weary of me, and 1 was jealous - jealous and suspicious. 1 watched her, and when I found that she was n'eetin.q; some- one in secret here on. this rock, and that she tried to hide from mi' especially that she was doin;; this, then 1 went mad — mad with disappointed love, nuul with jealousy. I knew she intended to run away from nu'.' He nuide a si^n with his hand that he cotdd say no mor(>. Jasper was greatly moved. At length the mystery was l)eing revealed. Thi} signs of insanity in the old num had disappeared, lie spoke with emotion, as was natural, bui not irrationally. The fact of heing able to tell whai had long hi en consuming his mind I'eheved it, and perhaps the blood he had lost reduced the fever which had produced hallucination. Jasper said in as ([uiet a voice as lie could connnand, ' My sister loved you and her child, and had no mind to leave you. She was grateful to you for your kindness to her. Unfortunately her early life was not a ha])py one. My father treated Ju'r with harshness and lack of sympathy. Ho drove her, by his treatment, from liomo. THE WHOLE ■^ 1 ? Now, Mr. Jordan, I can well Lelicvo that in a fit of jealousy and unreasoning passion you drove my poor sister away from Morwell — you were not legally married, and could do so. God forgive you! She did not desert you : you expelled her. Now I desire to know what hecame of her. \Vhither did she go? If slie be still alive, I must ihid her.' ' She is not alive,' said ]\Ir. Jordan. Then a great horror came over Jasj^er, and ho shrank ,'iway. ' You did not dri\e her in a fit of desperation to — to self-destruction ?' Mr. Jordan's earnest eves were fixed on tlie dark night sky. He muttered — tlie words were liardly audilde — .Si iniquilatcs ohserviircn's, Doinine : Doininc, qiils siis- tlnchit'} Jasper did not cateli what he said, and thinking it was something addressed to him, he stooped over ^Ir. .Jordan and said, 'Wluit hecame of her? How did she die? AVliere is she buried ? ' The old man raised himself on one arm and tried to sit up, and looked at Jasper with quivering lips ; then held his arm over the rock as, pointing to the abyss, ' Hc-re ! ' he whispered, and fell back on the mo.>s. Jasper saw that he had again become unconscious, lie feared left life— or reason should desert him before he had told the whole storv. It was some tinu' before the S(]niro was able to speak. When consciousness returiu'd he bent his face to Jasper, and there was not that flicker and wildness in his eyes which Jasjjcr had observed at other times, and which had made him luieasv. ?ilr. Jordan looked intently and steadilv at Jasper. ' 3he did not run away from me. I did not drive lier from my hous(! as you thiidc. It can avail nothing to conceal the trutli longer. I did not wish that I^ve, my child, should know it ; but now — it matters no more. My fears arc over. I have nothing more to disturb mo. I I! I w iiij i;; I : i:'S,l 346 EVE I care for no one else. I saw my wife on tlii.s rock meet tlic actor, I watrlied tluiii. They did not know that I v/as sp\ ln,i^'. I could not hoar much of what they said ; I caught only snatches of sentences and stray words. I thought he was urging her to go with him.' 'Xo,' interrupted Jasper, 'it was not so. lie advised her not to return with her father, hut to renuiin with you.' 'Was it so? I was fevered with love and jealousy. I lieard his last words she was to be there on the morrow, ]\Iidsummer Day, and then to give the Jhial decision. If I had had my gun I would have shot him there, but I was unarmed. All that niglit I was restless. I could not sleep ; I was as one in a death agony. I thought that Eve was going to desert me for another. And when on the morrow, ]\Iidsunnner Day, she went at the appointed hour to the Raven Uock, I followed her. She had taken her child — she had made up her mind-- she was going. Then I took down my gun and loaded it.' Jasper's heart stood still. Nov/ for the first time he began to see and fear what was coming. This was worse than he had anticipated. ' I crept along behind a hedge, till I reached the wood. Then I stole through the gate under the trees. I came beneath the great Scotch pine' — ho pointed in the direction. ' She had her child with her. She had made up her mind — so I thought- to leave me, and take with her the babe. That she could not leave. Now I see she took it only that she might show the little thing to her father. I watched her on the roclc. She kissed the babo and soothed it, and fondled it, and sang to it. She had a sweet voice. I was watclhng — there — and I had my gun in my hands. The man was not coiiu-. I saw rise up before me the life my J'ive would had; I saw how s]ie would sink, how the man would desert her, and she would fall lower ; and my cliild, v/hat would become of my cliild? Then she turned and looked in my direction. She was listening for the step of her luver. She stooped, and laid the child on the moss, THE WHOLE 347 ^vllc•^e I lie now. I suppose it opcncil its eyes, and she began to sing and dance to it, snapping her fingers as tliough playing castanets. My heart Ihired within me, my hand shook, and God Iniows liow it A\as -I do not. I cannot sny how it came ahout, hut iu one moment tlie gun was discharged and she iVlh I did not moan to kill Ju-r when I loaded it, but I did me;in to kill tlie m;m, tlie seducer. ]hit whether I did it purposely then, (.r my liiiger acted witliout my will, I caiiuut say. All is dark to me when I look back dark as is tlie darkness over the edge of this rock.' Jasper could not speak. lie stood iciid loolced with horror on the wounded, wretched man. ^ 'I buried her,' said Mr. Jordan, 'in the old copper- mine— long deserted, and oidy known to me— and there slie lies. That is the whole.' Tlien he covered his eyes and said no raore. m CIIArTl'K LIII. 15 Y LAXTJnt x-li(.;ht. When Barbara had fniished her neodleworic, the wonder which had for some time been o];truding itself upon her— what had become of Eve oecame prominent, and awoke a fear in her lest she should haAo run oil' into the A\()od to ]\Iartin. She did not wish to think that I'^vo would do such a thing; but, if she were nc^t ni uie house, and neither her step nor her voice aimounced her ]u'esence, where was she'.' Eve was ne\er able lo amu.se herself, bv herself, for long. She nnist be wiih someone— with a maid if no one else were availalue. She liad no resourees in herself. If she were with Jasper, it did not matter; but Barbara hardly thought Eve waswitli liim. She laid aside her needlework, looked into her sister's room, without expecting to see Eve there, then descended li . It 348 EVE and sought Jane, to inquire whctlicr licr father Lad given signs of heing awake by knoclving, Jane, liowevcr, was not in the pantry nor in the kitehen. Jane had not been seen for some time. Then ]>arl)ara very softly stole through the hall and tapped at hor father's door. No answer. She opened it and looked in. The room wa.s quite dark. She stoou still and listened. She did not hear her father breathe. In some surprise, but hardly yet in alarm, she went for a candle, and returned with it lo the room ]\[r. Jordan occupied. To her amazement and alarm, she found it empty. She ran into the parlour — no one was there. She sought through the house and garden, and stables -not a sign of her fatlier anywhere, an(b strangely enough, not of J-^ve, or of Jane either. Jasj)er, likewise, had not ))een seen for some time. Then, in Iut distress, ] Barbara rang the alarm-bell, long, hastily, and strongly. AVlien, after the lapse of some while spent in fruitless seareix, ] Barbara arrived at the Haven liock, she was not alone — two or three of the farm labourers and Joseph the policenuin were wiLh her, Jane had found her sweetheavt on his way to ]\rorwell to visit her. The light of the ih'e on the Ivock, illumining the air above the trees, had attracted the notice of one of the workmen, and now the entire party came on to the Itock as Mr. Jordan had linished his confession, and Jasper, sick at heart, horror- stricken, stood back, spce. -bless, not able to speak. Barbara uttered a ci'v of dismay when she saw her father, and threw herself on her knees at his side, lb' ]nade a sign to her to keep bacli, he did nut want her ; lu' beckoned lo Jasper. ' One word more,' he said in a low tone. ' ^My hours are nearly ove'-. I^ay us all three together— my wife, my child, and me.' ' Tapa,' said Barbara, 'what do you mean? what i> the matter •.' ' Ho paid no attention to her. ' I have told you where s/ic lies. When you have recovered my poor child ' BY LAXTERX-LICllT 349 rht ' What child ? ' asked Jasper. ' Eve ; what other ? ' Jasper did not understand, and supposed he vras wan- dering. ' lie — your brother — leaped off the precipice with her in his arms.' ' Papa ! ' cried r)iirl)arn. ' She is dead- daslied to pieces— and lie too. Barbara looked at Jasper, tlieii, in terror ran to the edge. Nothing whatever could be seen. Tbat platform of rock migiit be tlie end of the world, a cliff jutting forth into infinite space and descending into intiin"te abysses of blackness. She leaned over and called, but received no answer. Jasper could hardly believe in the truth of what h.'ul been said. Turning to the policeman and servants, he spoke sternly : 'Mr. Jor(''an nuist be removed at once. Let him bo lifted vervcarefullvand cari'ied into the house. He has lain here already unsuccoured too long.' ' I will not be removed,' said the old man ; ' leave me here, I shall take no further harm. Go— seek for the body of my poor Eve.' 'John AVestlake,' called Barbara to one of the men, 'give me the lantern at once.' The man ^\as carrying one. Then, distracted between fear for her sister and anxiety about her father, she ran back to Vix. Jordan to know how ho was. ' You need be in no immediate anxiety about him,' said Jasper. ' It is true that his wound has opeiud and bled, but I have tightly bandaged it again.' Joseph, the policeman, stood by helpless, staving blankly about him and scratching his ear. Then ])arbara noticed a blanket lying in a heap on the )oclv — the blaidvct Jasper had brouglit to his brother, but which had been refused. She caught it up at once and tore it into shreds, knotted the ends together, took the lantern from the man Westlake, and let the light down ihe face of the crag. Tlie lantern was of tin and horn, ■^i': I ill' I ill il'i lifi 03^ F.VE and tlirongli tlic sides but a dull light was thrown. She could SCO nothing --the lantern caught in ivy and heather bushes and turned on one side ; the candle-Hamc scorched the horn. ' I can see nothing,' she said despairingly. • What shall 1 do ! ' Suddenly she grasped Jasper's hand, as ho knelt by her, looking down. ' Do you hear ? ' A faint moan was audible. Was it a human voice, or was a bough swayed and gronning in the wind ? All crowded to the edge and held tlu^ir breath. Viw Jordan was disregarded in the innncdiate interest attaching to the fate of Eve. No other sound was heard. Jasper ran and gathered fir and oak branches and grass, bound them into ii faggot, set it on fire, and threw it over the edge, so that it might fall wide of the Rock and illumine ils face. There was a glare for a moment, but the faggot M'ent down too swiftly to be of an.y avail. Then Walter, whom none had hitherto observed, pn.^licd through, and, without saying a word to anyone, kicked ol'f his shoes and went over the edge. 'Let Inni go,' said Jasper as one of the men endea- voured to stay him; 'the boy can climb like a squirrel. Let him take the lantern, r>arbara, that ho may see where to plant his foot and what to hold.' Then he took the blanket rope from her hand, raised the light, and slowly lowered it again beside the descending boy. Watt w(Mit down nimbly vet cautiously, clinging to ivy and tufts of grass, feehng every projeetion, and trying with his foot before trusting his weight to it. lie did not hurry himself, lie did not regard those who watched his advance. His descent was in zigzags. lie crept along ledges, found a cleft or a step of stone, or a tuft of heather, or a stem of ivy. All at once he grasped the lantern. nV LAXTERX-LIGHT J31 *I sec somothiiifj; ! Oli, .liirfj^icr, \\\\\\i can il bu ! ' gasped Ijarbara. ' Bo careful,' lie said ; ' do not overbalance y(Mll•^olf.' I have found //cr,' shouted "Watt ; ' only lier — not him.' ' God bo praised ! ' wln'spered Jjarbara. ' Is slio alive? ' <^all(Ml Jasper. ' I do not know, I (.^o not care. ]\[artin is not here.' 'Now,' said Jasper, 'come on, you men — tliat is, all but one. We must go l)elow ; not over tlio cliff, l)ut round throup^h the coppic(\ A\'(» c;in find our way to lli(> lantern. Tlic boy must be at the bottom. Sh(> lias falhii,' lie ad- dressed Barbara now, ' slie lias fallen, I trust, amont,' bushes of oak wlii^h luvvc broken the force of the fill. Do not bo discoiu'ageil. I'rust in Clod. Stay here and pray.' ' Oil, Jasper, I cannot ! I must ,c:o with you.' ' You cannot, "h'ou mast not. "J'he coppice and bram- bles would tear your clothes and hands and fice. ^fho scramble is diflicult by day and dangerous by m'ght. You must remain here by your father, f'rust \\\<\ I will do all in my power for poor Eve. We cannot bring her \\\\ the way we descend. We must force our way laterally iiilo a path. You remain by your father, and let a man run for another or two more lanterns.' Then Jasper went down by way of the wood with the men scrambling, falling, bursting through the bralas; some cursing when slashed across the face by an oak bough or torn through cloth and skin by a braid of bramble. Thev were quite invisible to Barbara, and to each other. Thev went downward : fast they could not go, feaiing at evei'v moment to fall over a face of rock; grc )iiig, s!:ng'.;lii!g ;is Avitli snakes, in the coils of wood ; slippiig, falling, scram- bling to their feet again, calling eac.i otlur. becoming bewildered, losing their direction. The lanleni that W;itt held was quite invisible to them, buried above their heads in the densest undergrowth. The only num of them v.ho came unhurt out of the coppice was Joseph, who, fearing i" nil i ii il Hi * h i if! i'i Ditii 35: F.VE lor Jiis face and hands and uniform, luiAvilling that he should appear lacerated and disfigured before Jane, instead of finding his wny down tln-ough the brush, descended leisurely by tlu; path or road that made a long circuit to the water's edge, and then ascended by the same road again to the place whence ho had started. Jasper, who had more intelhgenco than the rest, had taken his bearings, before starting, by tlie red star on the side of Ilingston Hill, that shone out cf a miner's hut window. Tliis ho was able always to see, and by it to steer his course ; so that eventually he readied the spot whore was Watt witli tlie lantern. 'Where is she? What are you diing?' ho asked breathlessly. His hands were torn and bleeding, his face bruised. ' Oh, I do not know. I left her. I want to find Martin — he connot be far off.' The boy was scrambling on a slope of fallen rubble. 'I insist. Watt: tell me. (live mo the lantern at once.' ' I will not. She is up there. You can make out the ledge iigainst the sky, and by the light of the lire above ; but IMartin — whither is h(> gone ? ' Then away farther down went the boy with his lantern. Instead of following him, Jasper climbed up the rubble slope to the ledge. His eyes had become accustomed to the dark. He disthiguished the fluttering end of a white or light- coloured dress. Then he swung himself up upon the ledge, and saw, by the faint light that still lingered in the sky, the figure of a woman — of I'^^vo — lying on one side, with the hands clinging to a broken branch of ivy. A thick bed of h.eather was on this ledge— so thick that it had prevented Eve from rolling oft" it when she had fallen into the bush. He stooped over her. Ho felt her heart, he put his ear to her mouth. Immediately he called up to Barbara, ' She is alive, but insensible.' BY LANTERX-LIGHT 353 Then he put his hands to his mouth and slioutod to tlic men who had started with him. He was startled hy seein,!,' Watt with tlto lantern close to him : the light was on the hoy's face. It was aj^itatcd with fear, raj,'e, and distress, llis eyes were full of tears, sweat poured from his hrow. ' Why do you shout ? ' he said, and shook his list in Jasper's face. ' Have you no care for]\[artin? I cannot find liim yet, but he is near. J>e silent, and do not hiim,' the men here. If he is alive I will get him away in llio boat. If he is dead ' then liis sobs burst forth. ' Martin ! poor ]\Iartin ! where can he be ! Do not call : let no one come here. Oh, Martin, Martin ! ' and away went the bov down again. ' Whv is i^hc, fallen liere and found at once, and ]u\ is lost ! Oh, Martin — poor ]\Iartin ! ' the edge of the rock came in the way of the light, and Jasper saw no more of the boy and the lantern. Unrestrained by what his youngest brother had said, Jasper called repeatedly, till ui last the men gathered where he was. Then, with difliculty liVo was moved from v.hcre she lay and received in the arms of the men below. She moaned and cried out with pain, but did not recover consciousness. Watt was travelling about farther down with his dull light, sometimes obscured, sometimes visible. One of tlio men shouted to him to bring the lantern up, but liis call v/as disregarded, and next moment Watt and his lantern were forgotten, as another came down the face of the cliif, lowered by Barbara. Then the men moved away with their burden, nnd one went before with the light exploring the way. Barbara above knelt at the edge of the rock and prayed, tnid as she prayed her tears fell over her cheeks. At length the little cluster of men appeared with their light through the trees, approaching the Rock from the wood ; they had reached the path and were coming along it. Jasper took the lantern and led the way. A A !lM \\\W Ml k lllii "I i^'ii 354 EVE * Lay lier here,' lie said, * near her father, where there is moss, till we can ^et a couple of gates.' Then, sud- denly, as tlio men were about to obey him, he uttered an exclamation of horror. ITo had put the lantern down beside Mv. Jordan. ' Stand back,' ho said to Barbara, who was coming up, ' stand back, I pray you ! ' I)ut tliero was no need for her to stand back : she had seen what he would have hidden from hor. In the dark- ness and loneliness, unobserved, !Mr. Jordan had torn away his bandages, and his blood had deluged the turf. It had ceased to flow now — for ho was dead. CIIAPTF. LIV. ANOTIIKii LOAD. The sad procession moved to Morwcll out of the wood, preceded by the manM'estlake, mounted on Jasper's horse, riding hard for the doctor. Then came a stable-boy witli the lantern, and after the light two gates — first, that on which was laid the dead body of Mr. Jordan ; then another, followed closely by J'arbara, on which lay Eve breathing, but now not even moaning. As the procession was half through the first field the bell of the house tolled. West- lake had communicated the news to the servant-maids, and one of them at once went to the bell. Lagging behind all came Joseph Woodman, the policc- m.an. The King of Franco in the ballad marched up a hill, and then marched down again, having accomplislied nothing. Joseph had reversed the process : he had lei- surely marched down the hill, and then more leisurely marcheJ u: it again ; but the result was the same as that attained by the King of France. On reaching Morwell Jasper said in a low voice to the men, * You must return with me : there is another to be i ANOTHER LOAD 355 songlit for. \Vlio saw tho bov 'svith tlio lantern last ? llo may liavo found lii:u by this time' Then Joseph said slowly, 'As I was down by tho boat-honso I saw sometliing.' What did vou sec V ' • I sa^^, up on thu hill-sido a lantern travelling this way, then tliat way, so ' — he made a >^igza,[^ indication in tho air with his lin.i^'or. ' It went very slow. It went, so to speak, like a drop o' riin on a window-pane, that goes this way, then it goes a little more that way, then it goes quilo contrary, to tho otlier side. Then it changes its direction once again and it goes a ittle faster.' ' I wish you would go faster," said Jasper impatiently. * What did you see .it last ? ' * I'm getting into it, but I must go my own pace,' said Joseph with unrufUcd composure. ' You understand me, brothers — I'm not speaking of a drop o' rain on a window- glass, but of a lantern-light on the hill-side — and bless you, that hill-sido was li];o a black wall rising up on my right hand into tho very sky. Well then, the light it travelled like a drop o' rain on a glass — ih'st to this side, then to that. You've seen drops o' rain how they travel ' — ho appealed to all who listened. ' And I reckon you know how that all to once like tho drop, after having travelled first this road, then that road, in a queer con- trary fashion, and very slow, all to once like, as I said, down it runs like a winking of the eye and is gone. So exactly was it with thicky (that) there light. It rambled about on the face of tho blackness : first it crawled this way, then it crept that; always, brothers, gohig a litt^i' lower and then — to once — wliisli ! — I saw it shoot like a falling star — I mean a raindrop — and I saw it no more.' ' And then ? ' ' Why — and then I came back tho same road I went down. You did not go into the bushes in search ? ii i I'M cn II* 356 EVE ' How blioukl 1 ? ' aiiswerctl Joseph, ' I'd my bost uni- form on. I'd coiuo out courtiiif,', not tliicf-catchiiig.' ' And you know notliing furtlicr? ' ' llow should I ? Didn't I say I went back up the road same way as I'd como down ? I warn't bound to get my new cloth coat and trousers tore all abroad by brimbles, not for nobody. I know my duty better than that. The county pays for 'em.' l^irected by this poor indication, Jasper led the men back into the wood ai)l down tlu! woodnum's truck road, that led by a long sweep to the bottom of the cliifs. The search was for a long time ineffectual ; but at length, at the foot of a rock, they came on the object of their quest — the body of ^lartin — among fragi lents of fallen crag, and over it, clinging to his brother with one arm, the hand passed through the ring of a battered lantern, was AValter. The light was extinguished in the lantern and the liglit was beaten out of the brothers. Jasper looked into the poor boy's face — a scornful smile still lingered on the lips. Apparently he had discovered his brother's body and then had tried to drag it away down the steep slope to- wards the old mine, in the hopes of hiding there and lind- ing that Martin was stunned, not dead ; but in the dark- ness he had stumbled over another precipice or sliddeii down a run of shale and been shot witli his burden over a rock. Again the sad procession was formed. Tlie two gates that had been already used were put in re([uisition a second time, and the bodies of ]\[artin and ^\'att were carried to Morwell and laid in the hall, side by side, and he who carried a light placed it at their head. Mr. Coyshe had arrived. For three of those brought in no medical aid was of avail. Barbara, always practical and self-possessed, had ordered the cook to prepare supper for the men. Then the two dead brothers were left where they had been laid, with ANOTHER LOAD 357 the dull lantern burning' at tlicir lioad, and tlio liiinr^ry searchers went to the kitchen to refresh. Joseph ensconced liimself by tlio fire, and Jano drew close to him. 'I reckon.' said tlie policeman, 'I'll have some hot grog.' Then he slid his arm round Jane's waist and said, ' In the midst of death wo arc in life. Is that really, now, giblet pie? The cold joint I don't fancy ' — he gave Jane a smack on tlie cheek. ' Jane, I'll liave a good help of the giblet pie, please, and the workmen can iinisli the cold veal. I like my grog hot and strong and with three lumps of double-refined sugar. You'll take a sip Ih'st, Jane, and I'll drink where your honeyed lips have a-sipped. When you come to consider it in a proper spirit ' — ho drew Jano closer to his side — ' there's a deal of truth in Scriptur'. In the midst of death wo ara in life. Why, Jane, we snail enjoy ourselves this evening as much as if we were at a love-feast. I've a sweet tooth, Jane — a very sweet tooth.' CHAPTER LV. WHAT EVEllY FOOD KNOWS. Jasper stood on the staircase waiting. Then he heard a step descend. There was no light : the maids, in the ex- citement and confusion, had forgotten their duties. No lamp on the staircase, none in the hall. Only in the latter the dull glimmer of the horn lantern that irradiated but did not illumine the faces of two who were dead. Tho oal door at the foot of the stairs was ajar, and a feeble light from this lantern pcnc'trated to the staircase. The window admitted some grcyncss from the overcast sky. ' Tell me, Barbara,' he said, ' what is the doctor's report ? ' Jasper ! ' Then Barbara's strength gave way, and !'l lii 35« EVE •sliG Lnrst into a flood of tears. lie put his arm round her, and she rested lior head on his breast and cried herself out. She needed this rehef. fSho had kept control over licrself by the strength of her will. There •'vas no one in tlic house to think for her, to arrange anything ; she had tliu care of everything o]i her, beside her great sorrow for her father, and fear for Eve. As for the servant girls, they were more trouble than lielp. il/c?i were in the kitchen ; tliat sufficed to turn their heads and make them leave un- done all they ought to have done, and do just those things they ought not to do. At this moment, after tlie strain, the presence of a sympathetic heavt opened the fountain of her tears and broke down her self-restraint. Jasper did not interrupt her, though he was anxious to know tlio result of Mr. Coyslie's examination. lie waited patiently, with the weeping girl in his arms, till she looked up and said, ' Thank you, dear friend, for letting me cry hero : it has done mo good.' ' Now, Barbara, tell mo all.' ' Jasper, the doctor says that Eve will live.' * God's name bo praised for that ! ' But ho says that she will be nothing but a poor cripplo all her days.' ' Then we must take care of her.' ' Yes, Jasper, I will devote my life to her.' ' Wc will, Barbara.' She took his hand and presset'. it between both hers. ' But,' she said hcsitatiiigly, ' what if Mr. Coyshe ' She did not finish tlie sentence. ' Wait till Mr. Coyshe claims her.' ' He is engaged to her, to of course he will, the more readily now that she is sucli a poor crushed worm.' Jasper said nothing, lie knew ]\Ir. Coyslie better tlian Barbara, perhaps. He had taken his measure when lie went with him, over the farm after the si;'ning of the will. * This place is hers by her father's will.' ;^;i id Jasper; JVII/^ EVERY EOOL KNOWS 559 ' and, slioulcl tlio surgeon cliaw back, she will need you and mc to look after her interests.' ' Yes,' said Barbara, ' slio will need us both.' Then she withdrew her hands and returned upstairs. A few days later Mr. Coyshc took occasion to clear the ground, lie explained to Barbara that his engagement nuist be considered at an end. lie was very sorry, but he must look out for his own interests, as he had neither parent ahvo to loolv out for them for him. It would be quite impossible for him to get on witli a wife who was a cripple. ' You arc premature, Mr. Coyshe,' said Miss Jordan stiiily. ' If you had waited till my sister were able to speak a]id act, she would have, herself, relensed you.' ' Exactly,' said the unabashed surgeon ; ' but I am so cojisideratc of the feelings of the lady, that I spare her the trouble.' And now let us spread the golden wings of fancy, and ily the scenes of sorrow — but fly, not in space, but in time; measure not miles, but months. It is autumn, far on into September, and Michaelmas has brought with it the last days of summer. Not this the autumn that we saw coming on, witli the turning dog- A\"ood and bird-cherry, but another. In the garden the colchicum has raised its pale lilac flowers. The Michaelmas daisy is surrounded by the humming-bird moth with transpareiit wings, but wings that vibrate so fast that they can only be seen as a quiver of hght. The mountain ash is hung witli clusters of clear crimson berries, and the redbre!U]ts and finches arc about it, tearing improvidontly at tlio storey thoughtless of the coming winter, and strewing the soil with wasted coral. Eve is seated in the sun outside the house, in the gar- den, and on her knees is a baby — Inirbara's child, and yet Eve's also, for if Barbara gave it life, Eve gave it a name. Before her sister Barbara kneels, now just restored from l! 'w M /o F.VE lior confinement, a little pale and larr^o in oyo, looking up at her sister and Wm^w down nt the child. Jasper stands by contemplating the pretty group. * Eve,' said Barbara in a low tremulous voice, ' I have had for some months on my heart a great fear lest, when my little one came, I should love it with all my heart, and rob you. I had the same fear before I married Jasper, lest he shovdd snatch some of my love away from the dear sulVering sister who needs all. JJut now I have no such fear any more, for love, I ihid, is a great mystery — it is infinitely divisible, yet ever complete. It is like' — she lowered her voice reverently — ' it is lilce what we Catholics believe about the body of our Lord, the very Sacramen': of Love. That is in Heaven and in every church. It is on every altar, and in every communicant, entire. I thought once that when I had a husband, and then a little child, love would suffer diminution — that I could not share love without lessening the portion of ea(di. r>ut it is not so. I love my baby with my w^iole undivided heart ; 1 love you, my sister, equally with my whole undivided heart ; and I love my husband also,' she turned and smiled at Jasper, ' with my very whole and undivided heart. It is a great mystery, hut love is divine, and divine things are perceived and believed by the heart, though beyond the reason.' ' So,' said Eve, smiling, and with her blue eyes filling, ' my dear, dear Barbara, once so prosaic and so practical, i:". becoming an idealist and poetical.' ' Wherever unselfish love reigns, there is poetry,' said the sweetest of the z^jWSX"^ of life is the sono: of lasper ; * tne self-sacrificing love. Barbara never as prosaic. Slie was always an idealist ; but, my dear J'jve, the heart needs culture to see and dislinguisli true poetry from false senti- ment. That 'ju lacked at one time. That you have now. I once knew a little girl, light of heart, and loving only self, with no earnest purpose, blown about by every capn'ce. Now I see a change — a change from base ele- WHAT EVERY EOOL KXOWS 361 mont to a divine presence. I see a SAvcet face as of old, liut I sec pometliing in it, new-born ; a soul full of sclf- roproacli and passionate love ; a heart that is inno ■cut as of old, but yet that has learned a great deal, and all uood, llirough suffering. I see a life that was once purpo.-eless now instinct with purpose— the purpose to live for duty, in self-sacrilice, and not for pleasure. ]\[y dear ]'',v(', the great and solemn priest Pain nas laid his hands on you and broken you, and held you up to Heaven, and you are not what you were, and yet — and yet are the same.' \\\ii could not speak. She put her arms round her sister's neck, and clung to her, and thu tears Mowed iVnm both their eyes, and fell upon the tiny blve lying on the luiees of the elder Eve. Dut though they were clasped over the child, no shndnw fell on its little face. ''J'ho babv laughed. Some years ago — the author cannot at the moment. say how many, nor does it matter— he paid a visit to ]\for\vell, and saw the sad havoc that had been wrought to the vene- rable hunting-lodge of the Abbots of Tavistock. The old hall had disappeared, a floor had been put across it, and \l had been converted into an upper and lower story of rooms. One wing had been transformed into a range of model cottages for labourers. The house of the Jordans was now a farm. The author asked if he might see the remains of \\\\\\- (puty within the house. An old woman who had answered his knock and ring, re[)lied, ' There arc none—all have been swi'pt away.' 'But,' said he, ' in my childhood L remember that llio place was full of interest ; and by the way, what has lie- come of the good people who lived here? I have lu i u i\i another pavt of the country, and indeed a great deal abroad.' ' Do you mean ^Ir. Jasper ? ' 'No : Jasper, no -the name began with J.' 362 EVE • The old Squire Jordan your honour means, no doubt. He be dead ages ago. IMr. Jasper married Miss Jordan — Miss Barbara we called her. When Miss Eve died, they went away to Buclvfastlcigh, where they had a house and a factory. There was a queer matter about the old squire's death — did you never hear of that, sir ? ' ' I heard something ; but I was very young tlicn.' ' My Joseph could tell you all about it bettor than I.' ' Who is your Joseph ? ' • Well, sir, I'm ashamed to say it, but he's my sweet- heart, who's been a-courting of me these fifty years.' ' Not married yet ? ' ' He's a slow man is Joseph. I reckon he'd 'a' spoken out if he d been able at last, but the paralysis took 'm in the legs. He put off and off — and I encouraged him all I could ; but he always was a slow man.' ' Where is he now ? ' ' Oh, he's with his married sister, lie sits in a chair, and when I can I run to 'm and take him some backy or barley-sugar. He's vastly fond o' sucking sticks o' barley- sugar. Gentlefolks as come here sometimes give me a siiilling, and I lay that out on getting Joseph what he likes. He always had a sweet tooth.' ' Then you love him still ? ' The old woman looked at me with surprise. Her hand and head shook. • Of course I docs : love is eternal — every fool knows that.' THE END. i'i;iN'Tr.n nv srottiswoode and <(i.. xkw-street square London bt. icy lid Did et- in II iir, or -'}'- s a he ,nd W3