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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour etre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmi 6 partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche h droite, et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre d'imegea n^ressaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m^thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I 1.0 l.i 2.8 ■ 4.: It IIIIIM ■ 80 r: 14.0 Z5 [ 2.2 2.0 !.8 i A APPLIED ilVMGE I nc 16f.3 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288- 5989 -Fax TB AUTH( t^<.(^- L^ ?1 i4/'iA''-'V ^-m THE jf-yn' 7 PENiNYCOMEQUICKS l'.Y «. BAKING GOULD ACTHOn OK ".MKKAL.UV' "COUUT Uov.U." ".ro.V II.H,,,.,,.. ..,,„ GAvnocKs," Ktc, Km TOKON'TO: WTTJJAM miVCK, PUHLISIfER. Kntered according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in tiie Office of tue Minlst^'r of Agriculture, by Wiujam JmYCK, in \hc yonv on.; tliousaml cig'jt hundred and ninety. • - I. -If I CONTENTS. nistcr •Mff'jt Chapter I'liR'e I.— Shaking the Tree .T II. — Salome ir> III.— A Trust '5 IV,- On theTow-Path ; 31 v. - Kipe and Dropped 26 VI. --A Cottaj^e I'ian • ,,, \Tr. — Fakinj; Po.ssossioii :.^ VIII.— In One Compartment ,1 IX. — Arrival ,,, X. — With a Loaf and a Candle z- XI. — Expectation ^j, XII. — Surprises _j XIII.— What Next ? ' ^s /^ XIV. — Administration .S-, X\'.— The Woman With a Pipe g- XVI.- Who? What?.^ ,„_. XVI I.— Misfortunes Never Come Sinf,'ly i , i XVIII. -John Dale i,y XIX. — Hacking Out J2f] XX. — A Face in the Dark j ,2 XXI. — H}'acinth Hulbs j,j^ XXII.— Yes or No j^^, XXIII. — Earle Schofield j- , XXIV.— A Recognition if,. CONTENTS— Continued. ^ Page Chapter 170 XXV.— Without Bells ^^^ XXVI.— Hymen ^8^ XXVIl.— An Alarm ^^^ XXVIlI.-The Spare Room 196 XXIX.— Recognition ^^^ XXX.— Exeunt ,^,8 XXXI. -Estrangement ^^^ XXXH.-TheEliKhtofEn,s '"'""""'!!!!. 223 XXXIII.— Exile 229 XXXIV.-A Desolate Housr ••' ^^^ XXXV.-Oli • ■■ 243 XXXVI.— Deposed ,., XXXVII.— On the Lake ^^^^ . X\XVIIl.-ln Hotel imperial ^^^''''.... 20S XXXlX.-Two Women ^_. „\L.— Two Men ^^^ XLI.-One Pocket Handkerchiot • ^^^^^ XLII.-The Gauntlet Dandled •••••• ^^^^ XLIII.-The Gauntlet Cast " ' ' ' ^^^_ XUV.-And Picked Up 303 XLV.-Ober Alp ^^^ XLVI.- Artemisia ^^^ XLVII.-Edelweiss ^^^ XLVIII.-Trapped ^^^ XLlX.-Tete-a-Tete ^^^, I^._Iu the Hospice ' ^^^ lj._Again Hymen _^ jjl._The Devil's Knell d 170 178 183 187 ig6 , 201 . 208 . 2l(^ . 22J , . 221) .. 2jH . . 243 . . ^f>- .. 2f'l 2()S . . . ^75 . . . ^^^ . . . 2S() . . . -i'H . . . ^()7 . . . . 3i>3 .... 311 319 .... 325 .... 333 34'' 347 :553 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER I. SHAKING THE TREE. MRS SIDEBOTTOM or as she was pleased to accentu- ate her name, Siddy-bot-TOME, sat before the fire, with frnJu ^''^"'''^' skirt turned up over her knees to prevent it fender ^''''"''"^ scorched, and with her neat httle feet on the fh.TI?^ ''^"'^^^' ^u"^ ^'^^i" ^'°^" °"* «" the chimney-piece, in the sconces on the walls, and on the piano. A savour of extinguished candles pervaded the room onc^?;in'^i^'l'°V''°''^~^^' "^"^^ ^' ^^^^» ^^ pronounced rri^\V ' *c^i/ J"^y ^*^"'P '*^^^^ o" the memory of the ?h^ fi ~ [k Siddy-bot-TOME (the third time is final)-sat by the fire with puckered lips and brows. She was thinking^ She was a lady of fifty ; well-very well-preserved, withoS a grey hair or a wrinkle, with fair skin and light ev^s and ithtt'to^h"'' f 'T^K- H-.-y-1-hes were lifhte^stiirso ight as to be almost white- the white not in fashion at the time, but about to come into fashion, of a creamy tinge She was not a clever woman by any means, not a woman ot broad sympathies, but a woman who generally had her art^tTrc""^' '^r ^°'^^. ^"^ ^"^^^y °^ ^- chara'^ter and as that force was always directed in one direction, and her Zr!\"^T, """'"''^ ^"^ °"^ P"^P°-' ^he accomphshed more than did many far cleverer women. She rarely failed to carry her point, whatever that point was. ^ in^ tL^i^Hnf "i^i."'^!?''' ^^'? "^^' *^^ ^'^^ b"t not monopolis- hf s ^^ M ^'^%h'\"^°ther, sat Captain Pennycomequick, K -^ ■; "" J^""^- Sidebottom. He wore a smoking iacket braidt,] with red or brown ; and was engaged langufdly on a cigarette-case, looking for a suitable cigLtte ^''^"'^'^ °" ^ auick'';nH'1f °\!''"!,'' "^-^'i^l "^"'^ h^^ b^^" Pennycome- Tn^\ . A^^ ^^^ despised her married name, even when accentuated past recognition, she had persuaded her son to 6 TFiK PENNYCOMEQiriCKS, exchan<;e his desi|?nation by Royal license to I*onnycotne- quick. But euphony was not the sole or principal motive in Mrs. Sidebottom that induced her to move her son to make this alteration. She was the daughter of a manufacturer, now sometime deceased, in the large Yorkshire village or small town of Mergatroyd in the West Riding, by his second wife. Her half-brother by the first wife now owned the mill, was the heatl and prop of the family, and was esteemed to be rich. She was moderately v/ell provided for. She had a sort of lien on the factory, and the late Mr. Sidebottom, solicitor, had left something. But what is four hundred per annum to a woman with a son in the army dependent on he, and with a soul too big for her purse, with large requirements, and an ambition that could only be satisfied on a thousand a year ? Mrs. Sidebottom's half-brother, Jeremiah Pennycome- quick, was unmarried and aged fifty-five. She knew his age to a day, naturally, being his sister, and she sent him con- gratulations on his recurrent birthdays— every birthday brought her nearer to his accumulations. She knew his temperament, naturally, being his sister, and could reckon his chances of life as accurately as the clerk in an y\ssurance Office. To impress the fact of her relationship on Jeremiah, to obtain, if possible, some influence over him, at all events to hedge out others from exercising power over his mind, Mrs. Sidebottom had lately migrated to Mergatroyd and had brought her son with her. She was the rather moved to do this, as her whole brother, Nicholas Pennycomequick, had just died. There had been no love lost between Jeremiah and Nicholas, and now that Nicholas was no more, it was possible that his son Philip might be received into favour, and acquire gradually such influence over his uncle as to prejudice him against herself and her son. To prevent this — prevent in both its actual and its original significations — Mrs. Sidebottom had pulled up bar tentpegs, and had en- camped at Mergatroyd. The captain wore crimson-silk stockings and glazed pumps. He had neat little feet, like his mother. When he had lighted a cigarette, he blew a whiff of smoke, then held up one of his feet and contemplated it. " My dear Lambert," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " T wish you could slip those red stockings of yours into your uncle's beetle-crushers." i SHAKING THE TREE. 7 '• V'o7.r.t\^'' T 'Z'"'y i""' '"^ " '^'^ *he captain. .:hn.c •• ; ''""^ ^°"'' ^^^^ would expand o fill his shoes, argued his mother. -My feet are pinched enough now-certainlv." siL'hed Lambert Pennycomequick. ^-^'my, signed •' No' l!ln.M i^^' ?r^^^' gooseberry would have done." such mat^ers Th ''T 1 "^'^ ^' ""^"'' ^^°^^ *« ^e stingy in sucn matters. Though how we are to pay for it all " Mrs. S.debottom left the sentence as unsettled as he bill for the champagne was likely to remain. ' crippled we Vre!'-'^''''^^" '^'°"^^ ""' ''^' Uncle Jeremiah how " Never," said his mother, decisively. - Man's heart as agiin't J^aii°"" ''"""^ i-pecunious relatives as do'es r tuhp . " It seems to me, mother," said Lambert " that von mnrhf i'ce" 7am 1^ '''{I "^ ^^^ -.^'fficMlties and nee'j ^a" S^ to night - ^" "'"' '' = ^' ^"^ ^^^y ^^Id ^"d reserved not'l^usolcio'n"^ TT"'' ^^^'^ ^"^^^ "^^^^^^^^^ ' he has "?Mf ^"^P'f;°"- ^^^et me see, the waiters were half a truinea each and the pheasants seven shillings a pair. We could not have sixpenny grapes-it would never ha^ve ione." " It is meln %p°J?h"^ n t^? "^""'^ ^^^oes," said Lambert. • nT T ^n.? 1 ' Uncle Jeremiah may outlive us both." No Lamb, he cannot. Consider his age ; he is fifty-five " M^"ifdTbor^%aTot'::fnc^^^ ^^^'--' ^^^--- ■• of blood to the head. You saw how he became red as a l;^^{^mjhel-^^^^1;^ tool- iJ'"5 h^ ^"Joyed himself," said Mrs. Sidebottom- - H*^ '' rrhink not!"^'''""'''"^^' ^'^ ^" ^°"^h the ices ? " " ^ ^"^ '^"y-^ "^^^"' I ^ni thankful ; they are bad for 8 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. apoplectic persons, Lamb. He pays income tax on twelve hundred." •' He does not live at the rate of five hundred." " Not at the rate of three." " Perhaps eventually he may leave the mill to Philip and the savings to me. I won't think cf it, as it may all turn out different ; but that would be best for me." " Not best. Lamb. Both the savings and the mill should be yours." " What should I do with the mill ? You would not have me turn manufacturer ? " " No, but you could sell the business." " This is like selling the lion's skin before the lion is k'Ued," said the captain, with a little impatience. After a pause, during which Mrs. Sidebottom watched a manufactory and a bank and much treasure in the red hot coals crumble down in the gradual dissolution to ashes, she said : " Lamb ! You have no occasion to be uneasy about your cousin Philip." " I am not. 1 have not given him a thought." "Jeremiah can never forgive Nicholas for withdrawing his money from the business at a critical moment, and almost bringing about a catastrophe. When Nicholas did that I was as angry and used as strong remonstrance as Jeremiah, but all in vain. Nicholas, when he took an idea into his head, would not be diverted from carrying it out, however absurd it was. I did not suppose that Nicholas would be such a fool as he proved, and lose his money. He got into the hands of a plausible scoundrel." " Schofield ? " " Yes, that was his name, Schofield ; who turned his head and walked off with pretty nearly every penny. But he might have ruined himself, and I would not have grumbled. What alarmed and angered me was that he jeopardized my fortune as well as that of Jeremiah, A man has a right to ruin him- self if he likes, but not to risk the fortunes of others." The captain felt that he was not called upon to speak. " It is as well that we are come here," pursued Mrs. Side- bottom. " Though we were comfortable at York, we could not have lived longer there at our rate, and here we can economize. The society here is not worth cultivation ; it is all com- mercial, frightfully commercial. You can see it in the shape of their shoulders, and the cut of their coats. As for the women . But there, I won't be unkind." t r e a f( SHAKING THE TREE. 9 i •• Uncle Jeremiah winced at my joke about Salome." " Salome ! " repeated his mother, and her mouth fell at the corners. '« Salome ! " She fidgeted in her chair. «« I had not calculated on her when I came here. Really, I don't know what to do about her. You should not have made that joke. It was putting ideas into your uncle's head. It made the blood rush to his face, and that showed you had touched him. That girl is a nuisance. I wish she were married or shot. She may yet draw a stroke across our reckoning." Mrs. Sidebottom lapsed into thought— thought that gave her no pleasure. After a pause of some minutes. Captain Lam- bert said : " By the way, mother, what tablecloth did you have on to-day ? I noticed Uncle Jeremiah looking at it mquisitively." " Naturally he would look at it, and that critically, as he IS a hnen manufacturer, and weaves fine damasks. I hate shop." " But — what tablecloth was it ? " " The best, of course. One figured with oak leaves and acorns, and in the middle a wreath, just like those thrown over one's head by urchins for a tip, on the Drachenfels " " Are "-^u sure, mother ? " " I ga- it out this morning." ''Would you mind looking at it ? I do not think the table has bren cleared yet. When I saw Uncle Jeremiah was pro- fessionally interested in it, I looked also, but saw no acorns or oak leaves. ''Of course there were oak leaves and acorns ; it was our best. " Then I must be blind." "Fiddlesticks ! " said Mrs. Sidebottom. However, she stood up and went into the dining room. A moment later the captain heard an exclamation. Then his mother left the dining room, and he heard her reascend the stairs. Shortly after she descended, and re-entered the room with a face the colour of a tablecloth, or, to be more exact, of the same tone as her eyelashes. " Well," said the Captain, languidly, " have the oak leaves and acorns disappeared in the wash ? " ': Oh, Lamb ! what is to be done ? Jeremiah will never forgive us. He will feel this acutely-as an insult. That owl —-that owl of a maid has ruined all our prospects." " What has she done ? " 10 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " And not one of the waiters, though paid half a guinea each, observed it. " ♦' What was done ? " •' She put a sheet on the table, and made up your bed with the oak leaves and acorns." CHAPTER II. SALOMK. AS Jeremiah walked homewards it was with much the same consciousness that must weigh on the spirits of a bullock that has been felt and measured by a butcher. He opened his door with a latch-key, and entered his little parlour.^ A light was burning there, and he saw Salome seated on a stool by the fire, engaged in needlework. The circle of light cast from above was about her, irradiating her red-gold hajr. She turned and looked up at Jeremiah v*?ith a smile, and showed the cheek that had been nearest the fire glowing like a carnation. " What — not in bed ? " exclaimed the old man half- reproachfully, and yet with a tone of pleasure in his voice. " No, uncle ; I thought possibly you might want something before retiring. Besides, you had not said good-night to me, and I couldn't sleep without that.'' " I want nothing, child." " Shall I fold up my work and go ? " " No — no," he replied hesitatingly, and stood looking at the fire, then at his chair, and then, with some doubt and almost fear, at her. " Salome, I should like a little talk with you. I am out of sorts, out of spirits. The Sidebottoms always irritate me. Velvet is soft, but the touch chills my blood. I want to have my nerves composed before I can sleep, and the hour is not late — not really late. I came away from the Sidebottoms as soon as 1 could do so with decency. Of course, it was very kind of my sister to give this dinner in my honour on my birthday, but ." He did not finish the sentence. The ffirl took his hand, and pressed him to sit down in his chair. He complied without resistance, but drew away his hand with a gesture of uneasiness, a shrinking that somewhat surprised her. 4 SALOME. 11 4 I a ■1 resting on the arms of his cTiair, and his palms folded before rpLn?pH K /''^ hands of a monumental effigy. Salome had resumed her place and her work. As he did not speak she presen ly glanced up at him, and smiled with her slight, sweet smile, that was not the motion of the lips, but the dimpling of he pure cheek He did not return her smile; his eyes though on her, did not see her and notice the inquiry inX; countenance. ^ •^ inJ^'^"?'^!" ^^\^^^^ *^^^ ^^y fi^ty-five, or, as Mrs. Sidebot- tom put it for her greater comfort, in his fifty-sixth year. The dinner party at his half-sister's had been given entirelv m his honour. His health had been drunk, and mLv good wishes for long years had been expressed with apparent heartiness ; but what had been done to gratify him had leen overdone in some particulars and underdone in o^hers-ov^r done in profession, underdone in sincerity— and he returned home dissatisfied and depressed. rerurned for luTl^ Cusworth had been at first clerk and then traveller for the house of Pennycomequick ; a trustworthy intelligent and energetic man Twenty-two years ago, after the facfory had fallen under the sole management of Jeremiah, through the advanced age of his father and his half-brother'^ disincli- nation for business, master and man had quarrelled. Jeremiah had been suspicious and irascible in those days, and he had misinterpreted the freedom ot action pursued by C us worth as ciswnrth "" .^/ ?^^ Pennycomequick, and ismissed him Cusworth went to Lancashire, where he speedily found employ and married After a few years and much vexation, th^Jugh the ncompetence or unreliability of agents Tereiiiah had swallowed his pride and invited Cusworfh toViturn nto h^ employ, holding out to him the prospect ot admission into partnership after a twelvemonth. Cusvlorth had.Tccordingl tTrSal^hters'^t'^'' and brought with him 'his wif^fud T^ved fnZ \u ^ "reconciliation was complete. Cusworth w^?r. 1 A ^^^ '^""^ "P"^h^ '■^^■^t^Je '"an as of old, and V h enlarged experience. His accession speedily made itself felt. He was one of those men who attract friends every where whom everyone insensibly feels can be trusted. ^ ' - Y^ 'i^eeu 01 partnersliip was drawn up and engrossed and ?erL h^'r ''^""V"'"' ^^""' ^" ^°'"g through the mil wi"h Jeremiah Cusworth was caught by the lapplt of his coa^ n the machinery, drawn in, under the eye of his superior and 12 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. SO frightfully mangled that he never recovered consciousness, and expired a few hours after. From that time, Mrs. Cusworth, with the children, was taken mto the manufacturer's house, where she acted as his housekeeper. There the little girls grew up, and made their way mto the affections of the solitary man who encouraged them to call him uncle, though there was absolutely no rela- tionship subsisting between them. Jeremiah has never been married; he had never been within thought of such an event. No woman had ever made the smallest impression on his heart. He lived for his busi- ness, which engrossed all his thoughts ; as for his affections, they would have stagnated but for the presence of the chil- dren m the house, the interest they aroused, the amusement they caused, the solicitude they occasioned, and the thousand mtle hbres their innocent hands threw about his heart till they had caught and held it in a web of their artless weaving He had lost his mother when he was born ; his father married again soon after, and his lite at home with his step-mother had not been congenial. He was kept away from home at school, and then put into business at a distance, and his rela- tions with his half-sister and half-brother had never been cordial. They had been pampered and he neglected. When hnally, he came home to help his father, his half-sister was married, and his brother, who had taken a distaste for busi- ness, was away. One day of his life had passed much like another ; he had becomo devoted to his work, which he pursued mechanicallv conscientiously, but at the same time purposelessly. When daily he returned from the mill after the admission of the Cusworth family under his roof, the prattle and laugh- ter of the children had refreshed him, their tender, winning heirt °^^^-"^astered him and softened his hitherto callous Time passed, anH the little girls grew up into young women. They were much alike in face, and in colour of hair and eyes, and complexion; but there the likeness stopped In character they were not twins. Thei-. names were Salome and Janet. Janet was married. A year ago, when she was barely nineteen, the son of a manufacturer at Elbceuf in JNormandv. had sppn. Imwrl qprl rpn'^" h — h-- ' This young man, Albert Victor Baynes, had been born and bred m France, but his father had been a manufacturer SALOME. 13 i i that copiousf; irrSI '"wrd^aTfa" anH ' FV"« °' ^«^'"> folly had banisheu^om its proper home '"' ^''"^ "'"' to vl°t"r§anrs!lndVe°rd':.''"'*i" "H'' '° ^-^^'^yd Cusworth. As he was th/lf ""^ 1°^' '''^ ^eart to Janet ness, and as " U^ck^' Ierem?„lf '°" °^ ^ '"^" '» good busi' towards the dauXr-'rf rose„h r^'"''"?'^ '° "<=' ''^^^^^^ arose to cross thfcourse of TX» iT^"'' "° difficulties said that leremiah P^^„ ™ •^"'^ delay union. It was haved mo;!eXrallX^'^S"h.^ '°l'^ hardly have be! another reason urse/him t^-* ''?"" *"= daughter. But the girl. TWs wis gr™i,udf trAlfT ^V^'' '"^ ^^S«d fo choosing Janet instead of h"ssDeH,1f ^'"°'' ^^^"'^ '°' had chieily wound herself a?outLsTr'.'~^'°™^' ^^o lively, frolicsome little creaturr^L }^"*- ■J^"«' ^as a watch, and whose tricks nmv„i; ^^""^ ■" "*^ ^ relaxation to that one of the twinTwho had den^v,"® f '". ' """ ^"'""^ ^^^ as the miUfolk declared had inher'^»H°^f¥■■^^,'^■■• *"d who, worthiness, thoughtfulnLs and »!, J *" ^^"^ f^'^er's trust- love, gntrainess, and that magnetism which attracts lighfmcrring orher'facrrnt"";;^^''-"^' -'h the twi^ was very dehcate and perhaos t'it ^^"■- ^^^ "-"P'exion face consisted in [he tran%are'^cy^,rofT' l''"™ ."^ ''^^ of the ent,re face, that showed e/e'rvchani^ f.u ""l^' ^"^ feeling by a corresponding dance nf hf 5"'5"e'" *"d colour in it— and not colour ^ni? '''°°d and shift of lightest breath anS becomes clou^ded°h 'V "'""^ *^''<== 'he countenance ; bright w,>h ?„ j f- '^^ "' ^° was it with her of trouble, discouragement a"arm I?'"' t ^"S*""' breath dimming its usual brill"™'', "y 'ur, k"^''' ^ ' ?'"^ °^«^ ''• her sister had often said to her "• W .i,™'^ '^"-'^'^ f^"." '°"S h^d^b"^'^ ^" 'J;^* P''-- in Jour mn^' °P™'"S Tj^l^irdr^nlad^-.-^^^^^^^^ h^thtrh^iX-tnlio^t'iirint^^^^^^^^^^ perceptibly they had stole^'^from inf=„ ^'^?'^'=\^''P^nd ■ im- ftom Childhood in iike ^."atT i"/rc?ept'°u„tS::^. ^d 14 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. maidenhood, and then flowered into full and perfect beauty ; and each stage of growth had carried them a stage further into Jeremiah's affections, and had cast another and a stronger tie about his heart. He had loved them as children, and he loved them as beautiful and intelligent girls, as belonging to his house, A^ essential to his happiness, as the living elements that made u^ to him the idea of home. The only sorrow he had — if that ould be called a sorrow which was no more than a regret — was that they were not his own true nieces, or better still, his children. When Janet was taken and Salome left, he was thankful, and he put away from him for the time the fear that Salome would also take wing and leave him in the same manner as Janet had done. How could he endure recurrence to the old gloom, and relapse into purposeless gathering of money ? How could he endure life deprived of both Janet and Salome ? How can a man who has seen the sun endure blindness ? Or a man whose ears have drunk in music, bear deafness ? Deafness and blindness of heart would be his portion in that part of life when most he needed ear and eye — deafness and blindness, after having come to understand the melody of a happy home, and see the beauty of a child-encircled hearth. A great pain arose in Jeremiah's heart. And now, this evening, he looked at the girl engaged on her needlework, and observation returned into his eyes. Now he began that work of self-analysis, with her before him, that he had never thought of engaging in before, never dreamed would be requisite for him to engage in. As he looked steadily at Salome, his closed palms trembled, and he separated them, put one to his lips, for they were trembling also, and then to his brow, which was wet. Salome's soft brown eyes were lifted from her work, and rested steadily on him. " Dear uncle," she said. "My dear — dear, uncle! You are unwell." She drew her stool close to him, and threw her arms about him, to draw his quivering face towards her own that she might kiss it. But he started up with a groan, backed from her arms, and paced the room in agitation. He dare not receive her embrace. He dare not meet her eyes. He had. read his own heart for the first time, helped thereto by a casual joke from Captain Lambert Pennycomequick at table that evening. A TRUST. 15 (t CHAPTER III. A TRUST. DURING dinner that evening the conversation had turned on modern music. Yorkshire folk are, with rare excen tions musical, and those who are not musical are expected at all events, to be able to take their part in a conversation about music Someone had spoken about old English ballads wher^eupon Captain i^ambert had said, as anSe to hfs No one can doubt what is your favourite song." simply. ^°" ^'''" '^'^ advantage of me.- said Jeremiah. in ^i^Io^CL:^^""' ' --^ -y ^- ^^^^ ^»- time Then he hummed the words : And when my seven long years are out Oh, then I'll marry Sally ! And then how happily we'll live. But not in our Alley. Then it was that the blood had rushed into the manufar turer s temples, a rush of blood occasioned partl^ by an^er" fion'Thicrstii:/h"!;r °^ ^ ^■^'^' ^-^ ^-^^ '^^ ^'- -^^^^^^^^ Never before that moment had the thought occurrerf t„ h.m that .t was possible for him to bind Safome to h m hv beptTra-f'^Vh^rr,^^^ reaily^sumptuous^dm^ner ona tab.e covered withTs'hret."P "Ha\'th'at"ups:t'y^lr?'.°'''- " — "-cter.s.ic." hoJtf^TuM be''::,'ere?h"s' flctZ'aL'rr ''''" '""'""'"•'^ „ p/;."t^ '= -^ hihp, said the girl. Fhilip-— — ! " the manufacturer paused " PhiliV. t o"ZlX^' '""^ '' — f 'hefamir/tisfath^er'fcj 16 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. •' But for all that he is your nephew." •' Of course he is by name and blood, but— I do not like him." " You do not know him, uncle." " That is true ; but " " But he is your near relative." Mr. Pennycomequick was silent. He returned to his chair and reseated himself; not now leaning back, with his arms folded on his breast, but bent forward, with his elbows on his knees, and his head in his hands. He looked into the fire. After full five minutes' silence he said, in a tone of self-justification : " I can never forgive mv half-brother Nicholas." " Yet he is dead," said the girl. There was no accent of reproach m her voice ; nevertheless Jeremiah took her words as conveying a reproach. " I do not mean," he said apologetically, " that I allowed him to die unforgiven, but that his conduct was inexcusable. I have pardoned the man, but I cannot forgive his act." " Phihp, however," said Salome, " is the son of the man, and not of his mistake." Jeremiah was touched, and winced; but he would not show it. " My brother Nicholas acted in such a manner as to produce an estrangement that has, and will have, lastmgly mfluenced our relations. Philip I saw at his father's funeral, which I attended— which," he repeated the sentence. " I attended." The girl said no more. She knew that Jeremiah was not a man to brook interference, and she was well aware that this was a matter in which she had no right to interfere. But he was not satisfied with so slight a word of self-justification ; he returned to the topic, with his face turned from her, look- ing into the fire. " It was thoughtless, it was wicked. The mill was left between us, burdened with a certain charge for my half-sister ; and Nicholas never took the smallest interest in the business! I did the work ; he drew his share. He got into the hands of a swindling speculator, who fired his imagination with a scheme for converting the desert of Sahara into a vast inland sea, the company to have the monopoly of the trade round its shores. My brother's head was turned, and he insisted on withdrawing his share from the mill. He would sell his share— draw all his money out of the concern, and pitch it I I A TRUST. 17 wherever Schofield— I mean wherever it was most likely to be engulfed and yield no return. I remonstrated. I pointed out to my brother the folly of the scheme, the danger to me. 1 had no wish to have some man, of whom I knew nothing, thrust mto partnership with me. I must buy my brother out myselt. 1 did this at a moment when money was dear, and also at a time when it was necessary to provide the mill with new niachinery, or be left in the lurch in the manufacture of figured damasks. I had to borrow the money. Slackness set in, and— God knows !— I was as nearly brought to bank- ruptcy as a man can be without actually stopping. Your father came to my aid. But I had several years of terrible struggle, during which bitter resentment against my brother Nicholas grew in my heart. We never met again. We no longer corresponded As for his son, I knew nothing of him. I had seen him as a boy. I did not see him again till he was a man at his father's grave. If Nicholas had considered my prejudices as I suppose he would call them, he would not have put Phihp in a solicitor's office, knowing, as he mus have known my mistrust of lawyers. I will not say that I Tked foTl h Tv.^'"^^" ^'"l ^ P^^^^ ^'*^ '"^ had Nicholas asked for it. but he was either too proud to stoop to request his rTn'-^ "'^' °' ' "^"^ prejudice against trade survived «r." J^i^'^u^y ^^ ^°°^ ^"^ sensible, and a nephew to be so ^m^^ tr^S:^r??r Tne " ^^ ^^ ^ ''-'''' ^"^ «' Unc^'^.^p'^T!'!^!?^^".^' ^^"^*h ^y Salome, and w'LTt^^do tTthink'p ' S^^ i^tminTt^T TJ^^^'^ most hkely to u's. She does'n'o^t ™hTn^ 'Lf tlte^leTd' ful Prussians are making their way to Rouen in sn^fP Zfh rdt1tt,"toot''^ Ge„e.,Va,dher^:'r„;a^ t'^t. " Janet l.kely to come to us ! " exclaimed Jeremiah "Thiw:r'c:i"o„%"gtoLway^^'^ shortly," sa.d Jeremiah. 18 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Ilf are all stopped. The hands are now enga<>,'ed in the de- fence of their country. Oh, uncle ! what would happen to Janet if anything befel Albert Victor ? Do you think he was right to leave his wife and take up arms as a franc-tireur ? He is not really a Frenchman, though born at Elbamf." To her surprise, Salome saw that her old friend was not attending to what she was saying. He was not thinking of her sister any more. He was thinking about her. When she asked what would happen to Janet were her husband to ^^ carried off, the question forced itself upon his thoughts— What would become of Salome were he to fall sick, and be unable to defend himself against his half-sister ? He was perfectly conscious of Mrs. Sidebottom's object in coming to Mergatroyd, and he was quite sure that in the event of par- alysis or any grievous sickness taking him, his half-sister would invade his house and assume authority therein. He saw that this would happen inevitably ; and he was not at all certain how she would behave to Salome. Mrs. Cusworth was a feeble woman, unable to dispute the ground with one so pertinacious, and armed with so good a right, as Mrs. Sidebottom. What friends had Salome ? She had none but himself. Her sister's house was about to be entered by the enerriy, her sister to be a refugee in England. The factories at Elboeuf were stopped ; it was uncertain how the war, when It rolled away, would leave the manufactures, whether trade that had been stopped on the Seine would return thither. What if the Baynes family failed ? Would it not be advisable to secure to Salome a home and position by making her his wife ? Then, whatever happened to him, she would be safe, in an impregnable position. "Salome!' " Yes, uncle." She looked up anxiously. What was the matter with him ? What were the thoughts that preoccupied his mind ? Not a shadow of suspicion of their real nature entered her innocent soul. " Dear uncle," she said, when she had waited for a remark, after he had called her attention, and had waited in vain " What is it ?" "Nothing." He had recoiled in time. On the very verge of speaking he had arrested himself. " Uncle," she said, " I am sure you are not well, either in body or in mind." f A TRUST. 1!) He stood up and went out of the room without a word. Salome looked after him in surprise and alarm. Was he going off his head ? She heard him ascend the stairs to his study, and he returned from it almost immediately. He re- entered the room with a long blue sealed envelope in his hand. " Look at this, my child, and pay great attention to me. An unaccountable depression is weighing on me— no, not altogether unaccountable, for I can trace it back to the society in which I have been. It has left me with a mistrust of the honesty and sincerity of everyone in the world, of everyone that IS— but you; you "—he touched her copper-gold head lightly with a shaking hand, " you I cannot mistrust, you— it would kill me to mistrust. I hold to life, to my respect for humanity, through you as a golden chain. Salome, I have a great trust to confide to you, and I do it because I know no one else in whom I can place reliance. This is my will, and 1 desire you to take charge of it. I commit it to your custody. Fut It where it may be safe, and where you may know where to lay hands on it when it shall be wanted." " But, uncle, why not leave it with your lawyer ?" " I have no lawyer," he answered, sharply. '« I have never gone to law, and thrown good money after bad. You know niy dislike for lawyers. I wrote my will with my own hand alter your sister married, and I flatter myself that no wit of man or rascality of lawyers can pervert it. I can set down in plain English what my intentions are as to the disposal of my property, so that anyone can understand my purpose, and no. one can upset its disposition." J f t^ " But uncle— why should I have it who am so careless '"' You are not careless. I trust you. I have perfect confi- dence that what is committed to you you will keep, whether the will concerns you or not. I wish you to have it, and you will obey my wishes." ' ^ ^ He put the paper into her reluctant hands, and waited for her to say something^ Her cheeks were flushed with mingled concern for him and fear for herself. Such a valuabk dfed she thought ought to have been kept in his strong' ron safe' and not confided to her trembling hands. ^ ' He put his hand on her shoulder. ''Thank yon, Salome," he said. " You have relieved mv mmd of a great anxiety." relieved my " And now, uncle, you will go to bed ?" He stood,-Mth his hand .still o her shoulder, hesitatingly. so THE PENNVCOMEQUICKS. ;;l dont know; I am not sleepy." He thought further Yes, I will go. Good-night, my child." 'I'ruier. Then he left the room, ascended the stairs, passed throutrh his study into his bedchamber beyond, where he tMr^H ^^ the clotfles. and threw off his dress coaT and wl sVcoat 3 then i Ast himself on the bed. waistcoat, and His brain was in a whirl. He could not retire to rf>^i in that condition of excitement. He would toss on his bed which would be on., of nettles to him. He 'eft it stood nn drew on a knitted cardigan jersey, and then pthrs arms thro'igh his great coat. ^ ^"^"^^ About a q.varter-of-an-hour after he had mounted to his room, he descer.^ed the stairs again, and then he encountered Salome once moic, leaving the little parlour with the envebne that contained his will in her hand. envelope " What ! You not gone to bed, Salome ?" " No, uncle ; I have been dreaming over the fire Hi.f surely, you are not going out ?" ^"*' " But, uncle, it is past twelve o'clock." " High time for you to be in bed. For me it ic ar,«fi, matter. My brain is on fire; I must take 1 '..^"°^^^' draught of fresh night air." ^^ ^ composing " But, uncle- 4i Good night, dear Salome. Mind the will. It is a trust " Then he went out. irusi. \ ON THE TOW-PATH. 21 But, CHAPTER IV. N ' «E TOW-PATH. JEKKMIAH drew a laboured breath. '♦ I am in a sore strait," he groaned. " I know not what miDedformc^ *° ^^^^"^ ^^"' "'^ "'"""^ "^^'^ ^^^^'^ He had reached the tow-path besido the canal " Good night, sir '" He was startled. The night Wcitch had met him -the man hZW.J.° ^.^»V'-0"nd and through the factories at aU a'gainst^lilr'gbrf ^' °" '''' ^°°' ^"^ ^^^^^^ «-' ^ ^-^^ " Good-night, sir ! Just been on the bank to look . the river. Very ful , and swelling instead of going do .vn , o? of rain fallen of late. Cold for the gold fish yonder. Oood-night, answered the manufacturer : •« I a ^o want to see the river. There is more rain yonder." He pointed to the western sky. -The river is rising rapidly," said the man," but th re's no harm can take Pennyquick s-lies too high." Terc h's ttLug^hr^o^fs^i'Vo -— ' 'y '^^ ^ "^e gold'^fi':? ! ' V'hat dThf m^e^an ? ^^^' ^^"^^"^ ^'^ ^^^^^ ^^^ Outside the wall of Mr. Pennvcomequick's factory wa a pool, into which the waste steam and boiling water from t :^^'^^^^^^^^;-"d.th'«Pool^vasalwaysLt. U l^^L i hrP.lff^ll :i J^^ ""'" ^''}^ ^^^^ ^^"'"bs to them from th. breakfasts and dinners, and were dlowed to net some occa sionally for their private keeping , glass globes bTt not to make of them an article of traffic. There was r^it a cottage in Pennyquick's fold that had not su. h a vessel inThe window this&noof and ^'' the overflow fi .m the river had reached s;/d'-Lt^^^.f^r±^,!-r^^^^^^^ tains that divides" Lancashi;e from^ Y. rkshiCarirns from Derbyshire to the Scottish border. After a ortuous cours^ between high and broken hills, folding in on each o^herUke 22 THE PiiJNNYCOMEQUICKS. hoVZ^ifrLT ''fP' ^^^^^"^> pieces scarce room in the bottom for road, rail and canal to run side by side it burst i:][k oT'" U ^'^'^ ^'^"' ^""^^^ °" "°^^h anS soulh by low i . J r"""^ sandstone, overlying coal. Some way down th s shallow rough, on the northern flank, built about t^ hill slope, and grouped about a church with an Itahan sJire 'p^td to"the^'^"A '^r' Mergatroyd. There ttva^e" spread to the width of a mile, and formed a great bed of gravelly deposit of unreckoned depth The canal and the river ran side by side, with a tow-oath along the former; but the high road had deserted the vSky and ran on the top of the hill. ^ An unusual downpour of rain had taken place lastin^r s^mTd totv^S'"^'^ '°7" ^^^ '^'y --^°- "f hSven' seemed to have been opened ; at sunset the sky had partiallv ^rrve^'the'lr T^ '''' ^^^^^^^"^ "^--^ of dou^ds dr f^ mkhtv wallnf h? V ^'''''"' f ^"^.^"'^^ ^^^^^hed from the mighty wall of black vapour that still remained in the west built up half way to the zenith over the great dorsal ran^e-- a range that arrested the exhalations from the Adantic'and condensed them into a thousand streams that leaped m 'fosses and wriggled and dived among the hil s and clef^ ^rrhtTht'K m" ^^^^ °^ V]"' "-^' '^ reacMhe ta 1 o-night the Keld was very full, so swollen as to have overflowed, or rather to have dived under the embankments and to ooze up through the soil in all direcdons^n counUess fields and the rain that had fallen on it had drainedi-or as the local expression had it, " siped " away behfnd"his^blrk Y^'^^J''""'^"^^"^'^"^^' ^'^h his hands Denind his back, brooding over his difficulties seekin^r a solution that escaped him. If he remained sHent he mu^^^ content ma year or two to surrender Salome to another If he spoke, he might lose her immediately and completely for were she to refuse him she must at once withdraw from under Z '" K 'f"},^^\^^^^-^Sed from him permanenUr nJ:'7jtVl ±!r?J^--P^, him? He iho was acrpntinah^^'"^' l^" \ '"^"^ '"""^^ ^^' *" ^^^ ^vent of her accepting him, her heart were to awake up and love another ? Had he any right to subject her to such a risk, tolmpcse on ON THE TOW-PATH. 23 her such a trial ? Would there not be a sacrifice of his own selt-respect were he to offer himself to her ? Would the love he would demand of her, given hesitatingly as a duty, forced and uncertam, make up to him for the frank, ready, spon- taneous gush of love which surrounded him at present ? " I am in a strait," said Jeremiah Pennycomequick, again. * Would to Heaven that the decision were taken out of my hands, and determined for me." He had reached the locks. They were fast shut, and the man in charge was away, in his cottage across the field; there was no light shining from the window. He was asleep. No barges passed up and down at night. His duties ended with the daylight. The field he would have to cross next morning to the lock was now submerged. Mr. Pennycome- quick halted at the locks, and stood looking down into the lower level listening to the rush of the water that was allowed to flow through the hatch. He could just see, belotv in the black gulf, a phosphorescent, or apparently phos- phorescent halo ; It was the foam caused by the fall of the water jet, reflecting the starlight overhead. As Jeremiah thus stood, irresolute, looking at the lambent dance of the foam, a phenomenon occurred which aroused his attention and woke his surprise. The water in the canal, usually glassy and waveless, sud- denly rose as the bosom rises at a long inhalation, and rolled like a tidal wave over the top of the gates, and fell into the gulf below with a startling crash, as though what had fallen were lead, not water. What was the cause of this ? Jeremiah had heard that on the occasion of an earthquake such a wave was formed in the sea, and rushed up the shore, without premonition. h.rHi"V ^^^"'' ^^°''^' and-really-a petty canal could hardly be supposed to act m such events like the ocean h. t'f'^'f ^""T"^. *°r ''^*?^^ ^'' '*^P^ ^^°"^ the path'; and surpriseThim"^ ^^"^ something else that equally In the valley about two miles above, was Mitchell's Mill lying athwart It, nke a huge stranded Noah's Ark. It had ull'ffi'r' ?s /" T^ '*^'^y ^^'^ t^^"ty ^i"^ow« on the .v-ng oide^ , ,hat made just one hundred windows towards the east, towards JeremiahJ; one hundred yellow points of liffht against the sombre background of cloud that ^enveloped fhe 1 4 24 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. The night was not absolutely dark ; there was some light in the sky above the clouds from stars and a crescent moon, which latter was hidden, but it was not sufficient to have revealed Mitchell's without the illumination from within. Here and there a silvery vaporous light fell through the interstices of the clouds, sufficient to give perspective to the night scene, insufficient to disclose anything. Now Mitchell's was distinguishable as five superimposed rows of twentv stars of equal size and lustre. . ^ All at once, suddenly, as if a black curtain had fallen over the scene all these stars were eclipsed-not one by one, not in rows, by turns, but altogether, instantaneously and com- M?t^h^n^"f^? K°"/ ^^ °"^. '"^P' ^"^ ^ith the extinction Mitchell s fell back into the common obscurity, and was no more seen than if it had been blotted out of existence, f.r// .P?i !'•' ^^Pl^'ned Mr. Pennycomequick, involun- tarily. That IS queer. I thought they were at full pressure, running night and day." ^ ' What followed increased his perplexity. He heard the steam whistle of Mitchells shrill forth its palpitating, piercing call ; not briefly, as if to give notice that work was over, not peremptorily, as signalling for a new batch ot hands to replace such as were released, not insisvinj.iv as s?tv wit'l^f,;^ f 'P' Y. ^''^ ^ prolonged and growing inten- sity with full force of steam, rising in volumes to the highest pitch as though Mitchell's great bulk were uttering a shriek of infinite panic and acute pain. ^ called"'l:>nnnl'/'''"' ,!^^^i"'^^^' ^^^""^ '^°°d ^"°^her mill, ^nvinlnT """ '' ^"""^-^^ ^ " ^y""^" "-another contrivance invented by a perverse ingenuity to create the greatest pos- sible noise of the worst possible quality. ^ hl.c'l^"'f^T ^^^'^ T^^ ^^ ^ ^'^^'" ^^'d Jeremiah; -only, bless me ! I see no flames anywhere." ^ Then he heard a tramp— the tramp of a galloping horse on the tow-path, and he stood aside, to as not to^e ddden f w A P.f *'"^ r'" ^^% ^^°"^" ^^^ dow" a soft grey light that made the surfaces of water into sheets of steeiTand con- Z fn the canal into a polished silver skewer. Aling, down the tow-path came a horse. Jeremiah could just distingu^h a black travelhng spot. He waited, and presentlv saw th.. a nmn was ridmg and controlling the horse, and this man drew rein somewhat as he saw Jeremiah, and hallooed, ='Ge" back ! get back. Holroyd reservoir has burst." ON THE TOW-PATH. 25 Then along the tow-path he continued at accelerated speed, and disappeared in the darkness in the direction of the locks. The alarm bell on the roof of " Pennyquick's " began to jangle. The news had reached the night watch, and he was rousing the operatives who lived in the mill-fold. Then the " buzzer " of the yarn-spinning factory brayed, and the shoddy mill uttered a husky hoot. Lights started up, and voices were audible, shouting, crying. What was to be done ? Jeremiah Pennycomequick considered for a moment. He knew what the bursting of the reservoir implied. He knew that he had not time to retrace the path he had taken to its junction with the road. He was at that point where the valley expanded to its fullest width, and where the greatest space intervened between him and the hillside. Here the level fields were all under water, and before he could cross them, wading maybe to his knee, the descending wave would be upon him. He looked towards the locksman's cottage ; that offered no security, even if he could reach it in time, for It lay low and would be immediately submerged. He turned, and ran down the path towards the locks, and as he ran he heard behind him— not the roar, for roar there was none, but the rumble of the descending flood, like the rumble and mutter of that vast crowd that swept along the road from Pans to Versailles on the memorable fifth of October. Then a wet blast sprang up suddenly and rushed down the valley, swaying the trees, and so chill that when it touched Jeremiah as he ran, it seemed to penetrate to his bones and curdle his blood. It was a blast that travelled with the advancing volume of water ; a little forestalling it, as the lightning fore- stalls the thunder. Mr. Pennycomequick saw before him the shelter hut of the locksman on the embankment, a shelter hut that had been erected as a protection against rain, wind and frost. It was of brick, and the only chance of escape that offered lay in a scramble to the roof. " Would to heaven," Jeremiah Pennycomequick had said twice that^night on the tow-path, hardly meaning what he said, saying it because he was in perplexity, not because he desired extraneous help out of it, " would to heaven," he had said, " that my course were determined for me," and at once, that same night, within an hour. Heaven had responded to the call. 9.6 THE PENNYCOMEQiriOKS. CHAPTER V. RIPE AND DROPPED. M^?h.^i^??^^J^^ ?^^P' ^?""diy' °"ly troubled by the mistake about the tablecloth. The caotain ^^l^nf whistl^r^h'^'" '/k"°^''"^ ^' ^"- The scream^of'stetn^' whistle the bray of buzzer and bawl of syren, the jande of notTou'se them' 'W''''^^ 1 T'^' outside^thei'r wLCtdi^' not rouse them. They had become accustomed to these dis- cordant noises which startled the ears every morn nrearlv to rouse the mill hands and call them from their beds More over, the whistles and buzzers and syrens were not in the town, but were below in the valley, at some distance nnd distance modified some of the dissonance ^^«t^"^^' ^"d . iJut towards morning the house was roused bv violenf ringing at the front door bell, and by calls under the windows lf^.fnT 'J''^'^" ^' *^" P^"^^- The watchman hid come' quick w^^therr'n Tf' '^ ^^ ^^^"^^ ^^- Pennycome-' quick was there. He had gone out, after his return home that h^'nl^htta"" h' " '^^" ^^^"- ^^^^ werelntertained tnat he might have been swept away in the flood. Hood! what flood ? "asked Mrs. Sidebottom. busted. ^^ ^^ '" ^"" ""^ ^"'"^- ^^^^°yd r^^^rvoir be -And— Mr. Pennycomequick has not been seen ? " .1 u V^""- ^'^^ Cusworth thought there might be a chance he had come back here and was Staying talking ' ^^ He has not been here since he dined with us." ...'^ u^ ^lu "^rr ,^°""' t^ t^^e a stroll on t' towpath I d?wn he's 1^- '' '^'^ "°^ ^-^ ^' ^^ ^^- ^he floo^d^came qiHl^?.'* ' . ^^^d^^sticks ! I mean-bless my soul ! " Mrs Sidebottoni s heart stood still for a moment. What ! Jeremiah ripe, and dropped from the tree already! JeremiahTone en^^^e^d'LTe^LTi;:?'^ '-'''-''-"' ^'^^ ^-^ ^^- ^^ ^ad ,v,io"- -"'-"?'^^''' ^"f hammered at her son's door. Hi. wi.:.Ow ...uncu oui on the valley, not into the street, and he had not been roused at the same time as his mother As she ran. the thought came to her uncalled, like temptaiions! ''I RIPE AND DROPPED. 27 needn t have had champagne at six and six. It does not matter after all that the sheet and the tahle-cloth changed places. I might just as well have had cheap grapes." " Lamb ! " she called through the door. " Lamb ! Do get up. Your uncle is drowned. Slip into your garments. He has been swept away by the flood. Don't stay to shave, you shaved before dinner ; and your prayers can wait. Do come as quickly as possible. Not a minute is to be lost." She opened the door, and saw her son with a disordered head and rleepy eyes, stretching himself. He had tumbled out of his bed and into his dressing-gown. There was gas in the room, turned down to a pea when not required for light ; and this the captain, when roused, had turned up again. "Oh, Lamb! Do bestir yourself. Do you hear that your uncle is dead, and that he has been carried away by a flood ? It is most advisable that we should be in his house before the Cusworths or the servants have made away with anything. These are the critical moments, when things dis- appear and cannot be traced afterwards. No one but the Cusworths know what he had; there may be plate and jewellery that belonged to his mother. I cannot tell. We do not know what money there is in the house, and what securities he has in his strong box. My dear Lamb ! Yes, brush your hair, and don't look stupid. You may lose a great deal by lack of promptitude. Of course we must be in charge. The Cusworths have no locus standi. I shall dis- miss them at the earliest convenience. Good gracious me, what things you men are ! I can wait for you no longer. I shall go on by myself. When you are ready, follow." Mrs. Sidebottom hastened to the residence of her half- brother, which stood on the slope of the hill, a few minutes' walk from the factory. There was now sufficient light for her to see that the whole basin of the Keld was occupied by water, that not the fields only, but the mill yards as well were inundated. The entire population of Mergatroyd was awake and afoot, and giving tongue like a pack of beagles. The street or road leading down the hill into the valley was crowded with people, some hurrying down to the water, others ascending laden with goods from the houses that had been invaded by water. The cottagers in the bottom had escaped, or were being rescued. What had become of the workers in Mitchells no one knew, and fears were entertained for them. 28 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. dread Was lest sLft^MrelThXafr-'^f- "" °"'-' to prevent its pillage °"'^'' ^ ''°"^« '°° ''"^ in, rr-Mt Cur/rtL^T S^bjTn'd 'sl^llf" "^ '^^ "<" frightened and incaoaritLtpH T™ /" ^^% woman, was the%ervants were ouUn the streeTs ^'"^ '"^"""^' """ "•" " What made my brother go out ' " asked Mr. cvi the w^d^t!' and"at heVa'd taki"^ "'"^ ^^'°"'^'" ~ed and did no feeUleenv he Id h °° f?"'?"'^ '^ '«"> days, " What kevs h»?^i;„ I f. / T"''' *^''« '^ short walk." n,eanThe 'kef^f "the groc 'r'ies"'or"Sf ?h"' '^^ \ ' "" "<" papers and cash box ..«'^"""^S' °'^ °* 'he cellar, but of his with^'these'-Syt'shf sup' seTthat"]^ "^^ ""'"'"^ '° <^° carried them about with Wm ^'■- P«"°y':°«>equick n-ii^hLra^^fri/"-?'^^^^ ij::;.5iy ^ht-^ 4™-"- pjo^^rw-hir^h^: dresicolt anfsmaT / hTbT^er^^arL itk fnd' mat ;; You have, then, the key of the plate-chest ' " " Srpla^^d" r-^''-^'^''- ^"--^ ^ -Phoard." refu'ge''somewhre''" ''"' "' '" "°' '"«'- ^ ^e may have taken "Fiddlesticks-I mean, hardly likely. He was on the RIPE AND DROPPED. 29 Side- 4 tow-path and there is no place of refuge he could reach from dowrf '""^ "^^^^ ' '"""^ ^"^'^ •' " ^^^ P°°^ ^idow broke " Dead ? Of course, he is dead, with all this water Bless me ! You wou d not call in the ocean to drown h^m I havl in"srinche? ' ""'" ^" '^' P""^" °^ ^*^" ^^° ^^^ smothered *' ^es but he may have left the tow-path in time, and then, instead of returning home, have gone about hebin^ the poor creatures who have been washed out of their Touses h to'uwVe'litT- '^^^hT '^' *^"^^ '^ ^'' -^° ^ clo^h ■ It would be like his kind heart to remain out all night render- ing every assistance in his power." ^ h^r fJn^T '' '°"^f.*^J"^ \" that," said Mrs. Sidebottom, and '« No, nSt' yet.-''^ "^ °"^'''- " ^" ^^' "°* ^^^" ^^^^^ Mrs. Sidebottom mused. ''I don't see," she said, " how he can have got awav if he 7oTt °Th^t '""^V^^- ' ^""^ ^^^^^ h^ wasVen gig on o It. The tow-path is precisely where the greatest daLer lay. It IS exactly there that the current ofThe descendfn^ flood would reach what you would call its maximum of velo is s^he doing ?^' '°"'' "' ^^' ^^^ '' '^' °"' • ^^'^' ■ ^u-^^ i" "^^"^^ ^^'" ^°"' i" t'^im order ; neither the danger n which his uncle might be, nor the prospect of inheSfn^ dr^ s^d 'ffistofh^'^J^ "t-^^ L^"^^^^^ ^° appear partially oressed. His mother drew him aside into the dinine-room fo"if"wmf.rh '; f'!i" '^ "° P^^^- I ^"^ not sor ; for* ^A I J^^^^^^^ had laid out money in buying silver he -wtch'I^eToth'^dTo ^"^'f ^^"^t'^^ ^^-"' - "Shen " Is my uncle not returned ? " wh.ch your uncle Jeremiah said he was go'ng is r^aUv sub merged, and to what depth, and ascertain al!o at what ra^e the current runs, and whether it ,■= i;i„|.. ...,_•,"" "?5* dear Lamb, do keep that old" woman 'ta"lk4g' whis^Trun'S 30 THE PENNVCOMEQU[CKS. do such inconsiderate things. I must do this as a precaution, you understand, lest the keys should fall into improper hands; into the hands of designing? and unscrupulous persons, who have no claim on my brother whatever, and no right to expect more than a book or a teacup as a remembrancer. We must not put nor allow temptations to lie in the way of the uncon- scientious. I ! Ip i CHAPTER VI. A COTTAGE PIANO. MR. PENNYCOMEQUICK had but reached the hut of the keeper of the locks when he saw a great wave rushing down on him. Tt extended across the valley from bank to bank it overswept the .aised sides of canal and river and confounded both together, and, as if impelled by the antagonism of modern socialism against every demarcation of property, caused the hedges of the several fields and bounding walls to disappear, engulfed or overthrown The hut was but seven feet hi^^ on one side and six on other, and was small— a square brick structure with a door on one side and a wooden bench on that towards the locks. Unfortunately the hut had been run up on such economical principles that the bricks were set on their narrow sides instead of being superimposed on their broad sides, and thus made a wall of but two and a half inches thick, ill-calculated to resist the impetus of a flood of water, but serviceable enough for the purpose for which it was designed— a shelter against weather. It was roofed with sandstone slate at a slight incline. Fortunately the door looked to the east, so that the current did not enter and exert its accumulated strength agains the walls to drive them outwards. The door had been so placed because the west wind was that which brought most rain on its wings. Jeremiah put a foot on the bench, and with an alacrity to which he had long been a stranger, heaved himself upon the roof of the shelter, not before the water had smitten it and — '■'"" -'•■-•"'• >-nc Da=c aiiu luaiiicu over his feet. Had he not clung to the roof he would have been swept away To the west the darkness remained piled up, dense and undi- •fi t A COTTAGE PIANO. :U luted, as though the clouds there contained in them another torty-eight hours of rain. A very Pelion piled on Ossa seemed to occupy the horizon, but above this the vault became gradually clearer, and the crescent moon poured down more abundant light, though that was not in itself considerable. , By this light Jeremiah could see how wide-spread the mundation was, how it now filled the trough of the Keld just as It must have filled it in the remote prehistoric age' when the western hills were sealed in ice, and sent their trosty waters burdened with icebergs down the valleys they had scooped out, and over rocks which they furrowed in their passage. Away on the ridge to the north, yellow lights were twink- ling, and thence came sounds of life. The steam calls had ceased to shrill : they had done their work. No one slept in Mergatroyd--no one ,n all the towns, villages and hamlets down the valley of the Keld-any more that night, save those wno smothered by the water, slept to wake no more. T u 7 ^^ )°^^' growing out of the embankment, stood a Lombardy poplar. The sudden blast of wind accompany- ing the water had twisted and snapped it, but had not wholly severed the top from the stump. It clung to rhis attached by igaments of bark and fibres of wood. The stream caught at the broken tree-top that trailed on the causeway, shook it impatiently dragged it along with it, ripped more of the whoUy Iway. "^ ''' '"^ '''"^'^ ^"^^"' °" ^^^^^^^^ ^' hi. JJ'^^^^it.hft^"^'"^ his danger and extreme discomfort, with his boots full of water, Jeremiah was unable to withdraw his thTb^i Tf -^'T *h%^^«^^" t^^e, the top of which whipped he base of his place of refuge; for he calculated whether, in he event o the water undermining the hut, he could re^ch the stump along the precarious bridge of the broken top. But other objects presented themselves, gliding past, to distract the mind from ^he tree. By the wan and straggling light he saw that varic articles of an uncertain nature werf being whirled past ; and the very uncertainty as to what They were gave scope to the imagination to invest them with horror r or awhile the water rnarpri o"«f ^^'^ -i^jjVe i- -^ - i v. immense force exerted on the valves tore them apart, wrenched one from Its hinges, threw it down, and the torren Tolled tn^ umphantly over it ; it did not carry the door off, wWch held 11 32 THE PENNYOOMEQUICKS. Still to its lower hinge, at least for a time, though it twisted the iron in its socket of stone. The water was racing along, now noiselessly, but with re- morseless determination, throwing sticks, straw, and then a drowned pig at the obstructive hut. At one moment a boat shot past. If it had but touched the hut, Jeremiah would have thrown himself into it, and trusted that it would be stranded in shallow water. He knew how insecure the build- ing was that sustained him. There was no one in the boat. It had been moored originally by a rope, which was snapped, and trailed behind it. The moon flared out on the water, that looked like undula- ting mercury, and showed a dimple on its surface above the hut ; a dimple formed by the water that was parted by the obstruction ; and about this eddy sticks and strands were revolving. Now his attention was arrested by a huge black object saihng down-stream, reeling and spinning as it advanced. What was it? A house lifted bodily and carried along? Jeremiah watched its approach with uneasiness ; if it struck his brick hut it would probably demoiish it. As it neared, however, he was relieved to discover thai it was a hayrick ; and on it, skipping from side to side, he observed a fluttermg white figure. Now he saw that a chance offered better than that of remaining on the fragile hut. The bricks would give way, but the hayrick must float. If he could possibly swing him- self on to the hay, he would be in comparative safety, for it is of the nature of strong curre U3 to disembarrass themselves of the cumbrous articles wherewith they have burdened them- selves, and throw them away along their margins, strewing with them the fields they have temporarily overflowed. It was, however, difficult in the uncertain light to judge dis- tances, and to calculate the speed at which the floating island came on, and the rick struck the hut before Jeremiah was prepared to leap. He, however, caught at the hay, and tried to scramble into the rick that overtopped him, when he was thrown down, struck by the white figure that leaped off the hay and tumbled on the roof, over him. In another instant, before Jeremiah could recover his feet, the rick had made a revolution and was dancing down the stream, leaving a smell of hay in his nose, and the late tenant of the stack sprawling at his side. A CnTiAdi'' PIAHO. 83 : twisted with re- 1 then a t a boat ih would ^ould be he build - he boat, mapped, iundula- bove the i by the ids were k object Ivanced. along ? t struck neared, layrick ; uttering that of /e way, ig him- for it is elves of d them- trewing • dge dis- J island ah was id tried he was off the instant, nade a a smell "awling 1 onny aiequick, angrily ; was giddy. I tl j^^ht tb e 1. " You fool!" exclaimed ^. . •• what have you come here for ^ " I could hold on no long was safety here." -Less chance here than on the rick you 1, ,ve desert, You have spoiled your own chance of life and mine " Ipff 1 ,"il 1' '""^^ '^!' u^^'K "'^^"^^ ^^^ half-naked man. " I left my bed and got through t'door as fwater came sipin^r in and I scram led up on to frick. I never thowt frick would na tloated away. •*u ^t^^J *^^"' ^^'^ Jeremiah, removing his great coat, but with a bad grace, " take this." ^ ' ," That's better," said the man, without a word of thanks as he slipped into the warm overcoat. "Eh ! now," said he'. If were nobbut for the way 'trick spun aboot, I could na' ha stuck there. I wouldn't ha' gone out o' life, spinning l"ke a skoprill (tee-totum) not on no account; I'd a^gone stag and I m a teetotaller, have been these fifteen years. Fifteen years sin I took fpledge, and never bust out but once." miah gr"imf;' """'"' '"°"^^ *° '^'''^y ^^^ "^^'" ^^'^ Jere- " Dost'a want to argy?" asked the man. "Becos,ifso I'm loXt?ihV''^' Peter-one, three, twenty, what dost a say Dlaie3iw7^K 'I' "? "'''?^ to argue, nor was the time and time and n^ir J ' "''' '° *^°"^?' '^'' ^^"^^»^' '^ ^^om every time and place was appropriate for a dispute about alcohol. - I wonder whether the water is falling," said the manu- n^ ov'er the T^ ^?1^ ^"^^ ^^°"^ ^^^ co^mpanion and look- ing over the edge into the current. He saw apples-hurdreds of apples, swimming past; a long, wavering iL^ of them ;re"s?ionTurmnf ''"' '^V^^^^^^^ ^nt^lr. ReV^Te Ed he'other V'^h'' r °u^';^' ^"^ ^^^ '=^ sequence, one cha n of red .nH iT ^^l^'^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ resembled a Sson s^Lr ^h °T''r'*'' ^"' "°^ they showed as jet fr or^-ouf o7^a hJcKtr^' "° '°"'^' ^^"^ ^ ^^--'^ tJ:7it '::^:f:'^:t^jj}sj-^ji^^^^ the dis. the roof whptin:^ ,> r^ii^'J — "o--— -" a^pic una uirew it on to the furtt^ side' °''"' """^ '"^^^""^ '^^ procession on " Tis a pity, now," muttered the man in nightshirt and 34 THK PKNNY(J0MEQUI(;K8. m topcoat, " 'tis a pity aboot my bullock. I were bown to sell'n a Friday." Suddenly, Jeremiah recoiled from his place, for, dancing on the water was a human bod\ — a woman, doubtless, for there was a kerchief about the head, and in the arms a child, also dead. The woman's eyes were open, and the moon glinted in the whites. They seemed to be looking and wink- ing at Jeremiah. Then a murky wave washed over the face, like a hand passed over it, but it did not close the eyes, which again glimmered forth. Then, up rose the corpse, lifted by the water, but seeming to struggle to gain its feet. It was caught in that swirl, that dimple Jeremiah had noticed on the face of the flood above his place of refuge. How cruel the torrent was ! Not content with drowning human beings, it romped with them after the life was choked out of them ; it played with them ghastly pranks. The undercurrent sucked the body back, and then ran it against the bricks, using it as a battering-ram. Then it caught the head of the poplar and whipped the corpse with it, as though whipping it on to its work which it was reluctant to perform. The manufacturer had gone out that night with his umbrella, and had carried it with him to the roof of the hut. Now with the crook he sought to disengage the dead woman and thrust her away from the wall into the main current ; he could not endure to see the body impelled headlong against the bricks. " What art a' doing ? " asked the man, also looking over. Then, after a moment he uttered a cry, drew back, clasped his hands, then looked again, and again exclaimed — " Sho's my own lass, and sho's a hugging my bairn." " What do you mean ? " " It's my wife, eh ! 'tis a pity." Mr. Pennycomequick succeeded in disengaging the corpse, and thrusting it into the stream, it was caught and whirled past. The man looked after it, and moaned. " It all comes o' them fomentations," he said. " Sho'd bad pams aboot her somewhere or other, and owd Nan sed sho'd rub in a penno'rth o' whisky. I was agin it, I was agin it — my mind misgave me, and now sho's taken and I'm left, "cos I had nowt to do w'it." " You may as well prepare to die," said Jeremiah, " whisky or no whisky. This hut will not stand much longer." " I shudn't mind so bad if I'd sold my bullock," groaned A iOTTAGK IMANO. 35 the man M had an oflTer, but like a fool f didn't close Now ml.oun to lose everything. Tis vexing.' '°''- snooK uie hut to s foundations, shook it so that one of the stone ...s vyas dislodged and fell into the water Terem ah eaned over the eaves and looked again. Hrcoul'd make on that some piece of furniture, what he coukl no dis in^uis was tljrust against the wall of the hut. He saw two & urned mahogany, with brass castors at the ends that^lis in<i T^cftl^hP'^'r' f""""'' °r'ened ami diseased wUe Ji'^tatt fed Zt^l:t^ -1 ---"-'- 1 he water alone could not dissolve the hut so it had calle.l other means and engines of destruction to its aid At fir=, a;r.nsTf tLn'tt"^'""^ ^'f'"'" " '-^"thr^wt'a .fead^p 'g bf brind now t ""■P"-' °'^ d ™'"''" *«'8'"ed with a diad .t briuKlft UP at^reaf IT ""^'^ ^^'""^ ''^ unprofitable tools, £ L^d^ 1 ^t^p-;^^^^^ aga'nisr^h'e'-brlr.i-'Xrtre:;. r:^^^^^ of t;f lit^d fu? fn^thf r^">? ? '^^° -'^- if^'e' waveLavedup^rp■:nfthrt« fe'^rUrtr" t 36 THfi PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m \ i \ r was horrible to watch the piano labouring as a willing slave to batter down the wall ; it did so opening and shutting its mouth, as though alternately gasping for breath and then returning to its task with grim resolution. The moon was now disentangled from cloud; it shone with sharp briUiancy out of a wide tract of cold grey sky, and the light was reflected by the teeth of the keyboard every time they were disclosed. Hark ! The clock of Mergatroyd church struck three ! The dawn would not break for two or three hours. " I say, art' a minister ? " suddenly asked the man in a nightshirt and great coat. " No, I am not," answered the manufacturer, impatiently. " Never mind what I am. Help me to get rid of this con- founded cottage piano." " There ! there ! " exclaimed the man. " Now thou'rt swearing when thou ought to be praying. Why dost'a wear a white tie and black claes if thou baint a minister. Thou might as weel wear a blue ribbon and be a drunkard." Mr. Pennycomequick did not answer the fellow. The man was crouched in squatting posture on the roof, holding up one foot after another from the cold slates that numbed them. His night-shirt hung as a white fringe below his great-coat. To the eye of an entomologist, he might have been taken for a gigantic specimen of the Camberwell Beauty. " If thou'd 'a been a minister, I'd 'a sed nowt. As thou'rt not, ^ knaw by thy white necktie thou must 'a been awt to a dancing or a dining soiree. And it were all along of them soirees that the first flood came. We knaws it fra' Scriptur — t'folkes were eaten' and drinkin'. If they'd been drinkin' water, it hed never 'a come. What was t'flood sent for but to wash out alcohol ? and it's same naaw." Mr. Pennycomequick paid no heed to the man ; he was anxiously watching the effect produced by the feet of the piano on the walls. " It was o' cause o' these things the world was destroyed in the time o' Noah, all but eight persons as wore the blue ribbon." A fain the foreleofs of the r»iano crushed aerainst the bricks and now dislodged them, so that the water tore through the openings made. " There's Scriptur' for it," pursued the fellow. ig slave :ting its d then : shone ey sky, d every three ! lan in a itiently. lis con- thou'rt t'a wear , Thou N. The holding numbed ;low his ;ht have nberwell s thou'rt awt to a of them Scriptur drinkin' t for but A COTTAGE PIANO. 37 Zir:^^j:::::t^z:\::o^. .x^a.. a posers roof felMn! ™°"'"' P"' °' ""^ ^^" «^'' -'-V' ^nd some of Jere™°"h'. °"'tS!;?:?oig l^tr^t""'^ ''"'"''^ ^'™P'" ^^^ Nay not I," answered the man. "The <;hine r^' T^o^oU- u wi- an alcohol drinker " "° ""^ """^ "^"' ' *'^^'"<^ box his ":u1"ro :^arm^tm.""'" '^""' ""^ ""' "'^ «"s-= -•<> Mr. Pennycomequick did not delay to use Dersua-^ion Tf boughs and Tried to 73l'rr.}}^^'^7^^ 'P'^"^ ^"^°"& ^he additional weigTt was ah f^^ ' ^^°"^ ''• /'"^bably his remaining fibres that held th. ^f^ '^"^"''^^ *° ^"^P ^^^ was Mr. Pennycomequick on it fh". T '?^^'^^'^ ^°^ ^^^^^y down past the cru3nJ^h^?/r u'^a lu^ '*'^"^" y^^^^^^' ^"^ its living burden entanied 1. S^'^K^^ '"^"L'^P' ^-^^^^ ^^^^ branchef, and asTe nasf^d hi . .f 7' -.^"'^^ '^^ whip-like ni<e a lump of ^^^tr^r^^^^l^-^^^^^^^^ ^^-Ive ; he was ;t of the lestroyed the blue tie bricks ough the 38 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m f; CHAPTER VII. TAKING POSSESSION. n^HE valley of the Keld for many miles above and below Mergatroyd presented a piteous spectacle when day dawned. The water had abated, but was not dramed away. The fields were still submerged. Factories stood as stranded hulls amidst shallow lagoons, and were inaccessible, their fires extinguished, their mechanism arrested, their stores spoiled The houses in the " folds " were deserted, or were being cleared of their inhabitants. From the windows of some of these houses men and women were leaning and shout - ma for help. They had been caught by the water, which invaded the lower storey, locally called the - ha'ase, when asleep in the bedrooms overhead, and now, hungry and cold and imprisoned, they clamoured for release. Boats were scarce. Such as had been possessed by manufacturers and others had been kept by the river, and these had been broken from their moorings and carried away. Rafts were extem- porised out of doors and planks ; and as the water was shallow and still in the folds, they served better than keels^ One old woman had got into a " peggy ' tub and launched herself in it, to get stranded in the midst of a wide expanse ot water, and from her vessel she screamed to be helped, and dared not venture to move lest she should upset het tub and be shot out. , ^ , . ., • u f Not many hves, apparently, had been lost in the parish ot Mergatroyd. Mr. Pennycomequick was mis-'^mg, and the man at the locks with his wife had not been seen, and their cottage was still inaccessible. But great mischief had been wrought by the water. Not only had the stores in the mills been damaged, and the machinery injured by water and grit getting into it, and boilers exploded by the shock, but also because the swirl of the torrent had disturbed the subsoil of gravel and undermined the walls. Fissures formed with explosions like the report of guns ; one chimney that had leaned before was now so inchned and overbalanced that its fall was inevitable and was hourly expected. All the gas jets fed from the main that descended into the valley were extinguished, and it was apparent that the rush of water had ploughed up the ground to the depth of the mam. i below en day ^ away, tranded E, their • stores or were lows of 1 shout - , which ," when md cold ts were ers and I broken ; extern - ter was in keels, aunched panse of ped, and tub and parish of and the ind their lad been the mills and grit but also ubsoil of led with that had d that its I into the e rush of he main, TAKING POSSESSION. 39 be,«c.„ ,heTwo:;k^oT,h^°TiV;:Vi:, :„reT uncertan whether th^ k^.j^ -^ „ "P^^^- ^^ was but all believed ' '°"'" ^^^^^^erated, some false^ What had become of Mr. Pennvcomeauirk ? TKof :.rhad", ?, T'l "°""' '" M/rg3"'salo™;'k:ew bv he canal In Th ' 'T^ "'^^ midnight to take a w,-,lk on h^ tow path SinLThl'^!"";; '^.^'^ ^f " ''™ ^ ""'<= '^'^^ was probrbfe hat hearing , hi"" ^'' ""' ^^f" ^«™ ^' ^"' ^ taken'' refuge sotwhrf Z wh™e^'^"Th;,'de':;'^'r '^^ that was a hope^soon Hi-.n 1 ^? *''^" ''"° Mitchells mill ; not been see,7there 1^0^ A ^' "'"^' i^"?'" """ *"' '""^ inconceivable that he could hfv„^^"'''-T' "'^ ,<=^"^' '* ""^ plac^o,- refuge to^hthTe^urhrrw-n!'^ there was no was dead Nofa^'i^dHl' shadow of doubt that Jeremiah She acted Z thfs cLv c.lin -ll, »' ^^^^.^ '■« was dead. brother's house I, T. .^'"' '"°^«<' '"'o her half- unprolected 'o be nn^^^T' '^?' '^^ "«"<=<'. '° '^ave it deLral^ed a house*^ f'''^ ''TJ*'°f Cusworths. A death order, respec? for proDert. s'J'^' /"if '^" "' ^ general-all should remain at foZ ^L t °u ^"I^' <='=^'^'l- Lan.bert room, and his clones' ThL '''"' ■"" ™"f°"-'^' *"^ »*" moving. Clothes. There was no necessity for his ma; es;fci:i,/:^tl,*^^f^«bo,'pm .. I could never trust a t. I tSt, Z ^'"^ women, lalk of mfn ac 1,^^,4^ ^r w^r .h^'gTealesTfrcllirv'nf ^ ^^ humbugged' brwomTn worths, the maids wou d'sal ^if "I "' """'^ ^"''' 'h'^ Cus. he perceive no.^^ rk„X\'S:''r;'as""wt„''T ^Tl;-^ 40 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I '!« married. Then, if anything went wrong among my domestics 1 sent Sidebottom down the kitchen stairs to them. He returned crestfallen and penitent, convinced that he had wrongfully accused them, and that he was, himself, in some obscure manner, to blame." , ^u - .^^m. Mrs. Sidebottom gave orders that her brother s room should be made ready for her. " Uncle Jeremiah's room, mother ! exclaimed Lambert, in astonishment. ^ , " Of course," answered she. " I am not going to leave that unwatched ; why, that is the focus and centre of every- thing. What do I care if they steal the sugar, and pull some of the French plums out of the bag in the store closet ?i must sit at my post, keep my hand on the strong box and the bureau." x o " " But suppose Uncle Jeremiah were to return .-' " He won't return. He cannot. He is drowned. " But the body has not been recovered." "Nor will it be; it has been washed down into the " Rather you than I sleep in his room," said Lambert. After a slight hesitation Mrs. Sidebottom said, in a low, confiding tone, " I have found his keys. He left them in his dress coat pocket. Now you see the necessity there is for me to be on the spot. I must have a search for the will. 1 hen she drew a long breath and said, " Now, Lamb, there is some chance of my heart's desire being accomplished. You will be able to drop one of your «'s." " Drop what, mother ? " '« Drop one of the »'s in the speUing of your name. 1 have never liked the double n in Pennycomequick. It will seem more distinguished to spell the name with one n. The captain yawned and walked to the door. " That is all one to me. I don't suppose that one n will bring me more money than two. By the way, have you written to Philip ? " ^r . " Philip ! " echoed Mrs. Sidebottom. " Of course not. This is no concern of his. If he grumbles, we can say that we hoped against hope, and did not like to summon him till „,_ „..-^ r^^f^*- 1ar^rY\'\n\\ wQc nn more. No. Lamb, we do not want Phihp here, and if he comes he will find nothing to his advantage. Jeremiah very properly would not forgive his father, and he set us all an example, for in this nineteenth domestics lem. He t he had F, in some jr's room Lambert, r to leave of every- pull some closet ? I •X and the into the mbert. , in a low, lem in his i is for me 1." Then ;re is some ou will be name. I k. It will ; n. one n will have you Durse not. n say that on him till Lamb, we id nothing aot forgive nineteenth IN ONE COMPARTMENT. 4^ n" wrLTo Pl,n!;.'?° "^'^P"^^^ '° '-"=-y- I 3hall certainly appea'red^ar"he''door''"W^ ^"°'"^' *''° ^' 'his juncture Pennycomequick?" "^ y°" ™»'ioning Mr. Philip comeqirck .- shTrske"! '''"' """'"^^ ^°^ ^^- ^^^^^P Penny- -^^^^'^^^::^^.^-^y, y- --^^ering about thoughrhe'otl^hT'to IfZ'e '' ' ''^^ ^^'^graphed for him. I CHAPTER VHI. IN ONE COMPARTMENT. [N a second-class carriage on the Mid]^^rA r 1 man and a ladv opposite each other H^'"^ '^* ^ ^^"^^^■ and was dressed in a dark^ntf „ .k u,^^,"^^^ ^ tall man, had that set, controlled Took 2ich ^ ^ black tie. His face reserve. The lips were thin and H ^"5^^' self-restraint and features was stern. tL eyLla J^H V""^, '^^ ^^^^ °^ ^^e apparently expressive features ie Tossessed ' Th"''^ ^^^ ^^^^ which so radically distineuishe. XT u t^""^ '^ nothing upper and cultured classef from .th "^^^ ^^^°"^ *° ^hl walks of life as this restraint of h^f -^^ "'^'^^ ^" ^^^ ^^wer the roughness of the hand that mark^ff T''^''' I' '' "°^ from the man who walks in the ^^^ \^ manual worker cast of face ; and That is due m Th?T R"'^ °^ ""^^' ^"^ ^^e inexorable enforcement of self-control ''' '° '^^ ^°"^*^"^ the ca^dag^ Is'ln'Tnte^.Tnt"'' ^^^ f^^^^^^^ ^^- ^^^y - somewhat Lrd. H^ looke^frH.ri"^^^^^^^^^^^ ^-^' ^ut Ls cnterea the carriage hesi(at;n„ V.,i,';u""'""""" °"<='' when he glanced round to s!^'whe her th^- ' '° -^'""' ^""^ *''^" the compartment before he ook a sel^^t" P"==^"Ser in -an elderly gentleman .n't U^rVi'^rthTd:^, j^^ 42 THE PENNYCOME(^UICKS. 'i him to set his valise and rugs on the seat, and finally to take his place in the corner. If he had not seen thc.t elderly man, witii the repugnance snigle gentletnen so generally entertam against being shut in witii a lady unattended, especially it young and pretty, he would have gone elsewhere. Where the carcase is there will the vultures gather. That is mevit- able; but no sane dromedary will voluntarily cast himselt into a cage with vultures. The old gentleman left after a couple of stages, and then, for the rest of the journey, these two were enclosed together. As the man left, Philip looked out after him, with intent to descend, remove his baggage, and enter the next compart- ment, before or behind ; but he saw that one was full of sailor boys romping, and the other with a family that numbered amoncr it a wailing baby. He therefore drew back, witli discontent at heart, and all his quills ready to bristle at the smallest attempt of the lady to draw him into conversation. The train was hardly in movement before that attempt was made. •< u " You are quite welcome to use my footwarmer, she said. , " Thank you, my feet are not cold," was the ungracious reply. . , i r •• u ^' I have had it changed twice since I left town, she pursued, " so that it is quite hot. The porters have been remarkably civil, and the guard looks in occasionally to see that I am comfortable." •' In expectation of a tip," thought the gentleman, but he said' nothing. . " The French are believed to be the politest people in the world," continued the lady, not yet discouraged, " but I must say that the English railway porter is far in advance of the French one. On a foreign line you are treated as a vagabond, on the English as a guest." Still he said nothing. The lady cast an almost appealing glance at him. She had travelled a long way for a great many hours, and was weary of her own company. She longed for a little conversation. " I cannot read in the train," she said plaintively, " it makes me giddy, and— I started yesterday from home." " In-deed," said he in dislocated syllables. He quite understood that a hint had been conveyed to him, but he was an armadillo against hints. ' to take rly man, intertain 2cially if Where s inevit- himself nd then, together, intent to compart- of sailor umbereci ck, with tie at the rsation. attempt ler," she igracious wn," she ave been lily to see m, but he iple in the ut I must ice of the /agabond, appealing If a great )he longed lively, " it ne. He quite 3ut he was IN ONE COMPARTMENT. ^g If th'at 'ca^b^card ?onvtsat.o ""V^^.^"^^ *^^ conversation, having observS the voZ In'^'f '^ '' one-sided, withou that there was no moTimnrnnrf /^" T^ '"^'^^^^ ^^'^^^^ so st^d an a.r thTn J?Te S^rl^eierg^mlf '"^ ^° ^^ ^^ What a bear this man is." she thought Me on his side said to him<;plf «< a f j fectr;rd7do?hr°TL''fit of //" """= '^■'1 r^^- -"" p- bonnet proclaimed French make lh"'h ^"f "'f ='>''^ "' "■« hair, large brown eyes and a f^r. ^f /^'^ '"^'^ Solden-red with two somewharhmic fire snots irr'^K 'i''""'^^^' charming little month w»c L„ • ^ '" . '^^' cheeks. Her A guar er of an hon ''"'^"/"g "i'h pitiful vexation. spoken^ and the grnt eZn t"::' safet°d"'th"f h" ™''' '^^'"8 had accepted the rebuff h^ h^A ^f'™?^ 'hat his companion forth agam with a remark ="^'"""^'"<=d, when she broke been ^eadi'ng'thTL^wspZr'I^JT '"'^"^^=- '^"'-y°" have hear the nfws from France I i, .°" "'/l' '".'' "<=«'^'«'' •<> crossed the Channel from th»; aI 'i "^ J''^' ' have just country; I am, however ve/y&nt'fl"'"^--''"'.''^™''^ innately our journak ar» r,„.^-^ ?"^' °' ""■' "^w^- Unfor- French are such a natL, ""P''f"ly '<> be relied on. The themselves to ^rite and oriniTP'" '^^t *'"'>' '=^""°' bring humiliation to tleir countfv I, i."'''^ "'^' '^"^ "' '°^^ and but inconvenient. That ?unih F 7i,"l'""'' ""V "°hle- bas succeeded in •cruI,'4^.r/nU"''"''^-' "^ '-=' ^^ .. "^ ''J'^ heen utterly routed." Uh, dear Oh Heart" tu„ i-x^. . . real distress. "This news 1/ "l" i^^^ ^^^ P^""&ed into why I was hurried Tway I want J h^"" "'"• '^^^^ ^^« me-the Demoiselles Labar^ h . .^''''^ ^^ "'^^^^ ^'^h mother, and would not leave her ^^ "^""^ *° ^^eir Then, after a sigh - Now tuZ t? , ^^ "^^^ magnificent." The gentlemfn^hook hrhtd^"^^^"' ^''' '^nie^^ener ^' It IS cruel. SureIvone«,cter'shn-V • i of the other." ^ sftouid ny ro the assistance ;; The English nation is sister to the German ' Oh, how can you say so .? William fhl^ from France." "^ ^^""^"^ *"« Conqueror came 44 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " From Normandy, which was not at the time and for long after considered a part of France." Then the gentleman, feeling he had been inveigled into saying more than he intended, looked out of the window. Presently he heard a sob. The girl was crying. He took no notice of her trouble. He had made up his mind that she was a coquette, and he was steeled against her various tricks to attract attention and enlist sympathy. He would neither smile when she laughed nor drop his mouth when she wept. His lips closed somewhat tighter, and his brows contracted slightly. He had noticed throughout the journey the petty attempts made by this girl to draw notice to herself — the shifting of her shawls, the opening and shutting of her vahse, the plaintive sighs, the tapping of the impatient feet on the footwarmer. Though he had studiously kept his eyes turned from her, nothing she had done had escaped him, and all went to confirm the prejudice with which he was inclined to regard her from the moment of his entering the carriage. He rose from his place and moved to the further end of the compartment. " I beg your pardon," said the young lady, " I trust I have not disturbed you. You must excuse me, I am unhappy." " Quite so, and I \ 70uld not for the world trespass on your grief." " I have a husband fighting under the Tricouleur, and I am very anxious about him." The gentleman gave a shght acknowledgment with his head, which said unmistakably that he invited no further confidences. This she accepted, and turned her face to look out of the opposite window. At that moment the brake was put on, and sent a thrill through the carriage. Presently the train stopped. The face of the guard appeared at the window, and the little lady at once lowered the glass. " How are you getting on, miss." " Very well, I thank you ; but you must not call me miss ; I am a married voman. I have left my husband in France fighting like a lion, and I am sent away because the Prussians 'iro rnV^Wirt" qnrl VMirninnr artt^ rrmrHprinor wVipr^^vpr tnpv ffn. T know a lady near Nogent from whose chateau they carried off an ormolu clock." How unnecessary it was for her to enter into these details IN ONE COMPARTMENT. i. with the guard, thought the eeutleman i u.. u stand how a poor little heart fn I ^f^ r , ''°,"'<' "°» ""der- itself out ; ho^w that ^rta.n ,l"tures c^n 1 1°"''' '°"« '° P°»^ sympathy than can plants wi.homwater "' "■"'' '"'"''"• ought t°o"int^rfere''"'' «"^^'' "-"^ '"e knglish Government -o; ]le"i^'Z: ^'^^trfat "vou'""^ '' "°"'<' ^f^' '"ffic " Mergatroyd " ^°'' S°'"S '<>. 'f I may ask ?" •'So' ma'/™"'^' ""■■" '!• ' f^""- "° danger." iNo, ma am, none in the I^acf . tmi 4. ,® come by no hur . The worst thaV l l^^ ^^'^ *^^^ y^^ shall be delayed, and perhrns no ht m . ^^^P^" '^ ^^^^ ^^ way m the sa^.e train^^^.^ re^on^^^rm^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ mi: bottroTl:t^r^^^^^^^ --^ -^ l ^ave here a touch it myself. Would voumtnH \ i?""^ "°,* ^^^" ^ble to here, under the bottle " ^ ^ ^^^'"^ '* ' ^Iso. here- She slipped some money into his hand slippe'd^ th^'i^n^f it'^wr?aLcr'' ^"'. ''™^«"-*- «« stowed away elsewhere ; then^hrustTnrh"''!' "!f ''""'^ ^e sa.d confidentially, •• N^ver r^^l^JZ'ni':^^ t s^te'J'irs'aroJ^e'^Jnt::: MeT.ato^d"'^".-'^"^' "''^ '-" the eyebrows of her fe ow nasseSr^ ",•''?' destination, was looking out of the on^^=t ? 5 ''"^ slightly lifted. He conversed with the giarT'^ M^ Jl"f r '° '^' ''' ^^•'^^ ^"e be rid of his companion foV the rl? of t"h ""■ "'^' ^^ """W ""^ was on his way to Mergatrovd Th '^ mjney, for he also ject of comfort to hir^ that tL J^f ™*' *"" ^ ''"g'« s"b- no longer great, and t™e time taken or^'^ *° ^"K^'^yd was of the guard, which he di™o„„ld" °™^"' '" !?"<= of the hint The short Novemhprda",ri;:,T i ''" j . "ot Ue great either of the journey wZu be taLnIn t°he H ' V"^^ ^^'"^'"der not yet been lighted in the carr"a« T \J^^ '^"P^ ^^d - through the Window .he ^ IvTiigh^o^tle^^t' l^X 4G THE PENNYCOMEgUICKS. lasi rays of a wintry sun arrested by factory smoke. The ^'entleman was uneasy. If the dromedary will not voluntar- ily enter the cage of the vulture, he will not remain in it in darkness with her without tremors. " When do you think, sir, that I shall reach Mergatroyd ?" asked ttie young lady. '• That is a question impossible for me to answer," replied the gentleman ; " as you heard from your friend," he empha- sised this word, and threw sarcasm into his expression, "the guard, there are conditions, about which I know nothing, which will interfere with the punctuality of the train." Then he fumbled in his pocket drew forth an orange coloured envelope, from this took a scrap of pink paper, and by the expiring evening light read the telegraphic mes- sage in large pencil marks. " Your uncle lost. Come at once. Salome." Salome ! — who was Salome ? He replaced the paper in the envelope, which was ad- dressed Philip Pennycomequick, c/o Messrs. Pinch and Squeeze, Solicitors, Nottingham. The message was a brief one — too brief to be intelligible. Lost— how was Mr. Jeremiah Pennycomequick lost ? When the train drew up at a small station, the young man returned to the down side, by the lady, let down the glass and called the guard. " Here ! what did you say about the flood ? I have seen it mentioned in the paper, but I did not understand that it had been at Mergatroyd." " It has been in t^-^ Keld Valley." " And Mergatroyd is in that valley." " Where else would you have it, sir ?" " But — according to my paper the great damage was done at Holme Bridge." " Well, so it was ; and Holme Bridge is above Merga- troyd." PhiHp Pennycomequick drew up the glass again. Now he understood. He had never been to Mergatroyd in his life» and knew nothing about its situation. He had skimmed the account of the flood in his paper, but had given most of his attention to the narrative of the war in x rancc. it ha^^ not occurred to him to connect the " loss " of his uncle with the inundation. He had supposed the word " loss " was an eu- phemism for " going off" his head." Elderly gentlemen do not IN ONE COMFAUTMENT. get lost in England, least of all in one of its most ick v/ood 47 densely f populated districts, as ii they were America. But who sent him the telegram ? He had no relative of t le name of Salome. His aunt, Mrs. Sidebottom. who wat now resident, as he knew, at Mergatroyd, was nam^d LouTsa and she was the person who he sussed would have wi^ed to hmi ,f anythmg ser.ous had occurred requiring his presence His companion was going to Merga royd. and prXbTv' knew people there If he asked whether she ;as awa e of a person of the pec hr^ Christian name of Salome at^^at place It was possible sne might inform him. But he was too re' served and proud to ask. He would not afford Thi^ fli° htv piece of goods an excuse for opening conversation with hh^^ In half an hour he would be at his destination, and woird then have his perplexity cleared. '^ The train proceeded leisurely. Philip's feet were now verv cold, and he would have been fateful for the warmed "^^'^ ^e'eLT "°" "'^' '"^ ^""•^^'°" '^ "^^^ -h^* he l7ad former^' As the train proceeded the engine whistled. Ihere were men working on the line; at intervals coal h es were blazing and smoking in brazie s. The train fur er slackened speed. Philip Pennycomequick cou^d "ee hat there was much water covering the country The tra^n had now entered the vallev of thp KpIH or,^ ^ ^ne train WKaf o yaaey oi tne iVeld, and was ascendinf^ t blew w at the open windows """"^^^"^ ^^^^^- ^ raw wind d"t,es ail the piles of impedmienta with which travel- 48 THE PENNYOOMEQUICKS. i ' 3 I lers encumber themselves on a journey, trusting to the prompt assistance of mercenary porters. But on this night, away Irom any station, there were no porters. The descent from the carriage was difficult and dangerous. It was Hke clambering down a ladder of which some of the rungs were broken. It was rendered doubly difficult by the darkness in which it had to be effected, and the difficulty was quadrupled by the passengers having to scramble down burdened with their eflfects. It was not accordingly performed in silence, but with screams from women who lost their footing, and curses and abuses launched against the Midland from the men. Mr. Philip was obliged by common humanity to assist the young lady out of the carriage, and to collect and help to carry her manifold goods ; for the civil guard was too deeply engaged to attend to her. He had received his fee, and was, therefore, naturally, lavishing his attentions on others, in an expectant mood. Mr. Philip Pennycomequick somewhat ungraciously advised the companion forced on his protection to fo low him. He engaged to see her across the dangerous piece of road, and return for those of her wraps and parcels which he and she were together unable to transport to the train await- ing them beyond the faulty portion of the line. The walk was most uncomfortable. It was properly not a walk but a continuous stumble. To step in the dark from sleeper to sleeper was not easy, and the flicker of the coal fires dazzled and confused rather than assisted the sight. The wind, moreover, carried the dense smoke in volumes across the line, suddenly enveloping and half stifling, but wholly blinding for the moment, the unhappy, bewildered flounderers who passed through it. In front glared the two red lights of an engine that waited with carriages to receive the dislodged passengers. " You may take my arm," said Mr. Philip to his companion. " This is really dreadful. One old lady has, I beheve, dislocated her ankle. I hope she will make a claim on the Company.'* " Oh, ^lear ? And Salome ! — what will she say. •* Salome ? ' "Yes — my sister, my twin sister." When Philip Pennycomequick did finally reach his des- tination, it was with a mind that prejudiced Salome, and was prejudiced against her. ARRIVAL. CHAPTER IX. ARRIVAI No cabs ? " 49 WHAT— no cabs ? _ coinequick, on reaching the Mergatroyd station. askfcd Philip Penny- • What a place his must be to call itself a town and haVe no convenience for those who arrive at it, to transport them to their destinations ! Can one hire a wheelbarrow ? '• PhZ was, as may be seen, testy. The train had not deposited him uXVt ' P^^^.^^^*^"' '"^tead of four-eighteei when du^ Hehad beent.irown into involuntary association with a young lady, whom he had set down to belong to a category of female? that are to be kept at a distance- that is, th1s7who'^^^^^^^^ contemptuously described them, run after a herrth-brush because ,t wears whiskers. He misjudged Janet Baynes as !r:rn:tur:r" Tf ^^"^"^ ^^^ '^^'i *° "^'^j^^^- -^p" -" irank natures. There are men who, the more forward a woman is, so much the more do they recoil into their shells mafeon"^°'j'"",^^*^^^ who' approach them l.'kf a wLT ^'""^*' ^'^'^ ^ ^'""^^ ^"d ^ display of teeth. Who this woman was with whom he had been thrown Philip only knew from what she had told him and the gua^S' SalomfiruTr '^''' '^' ^'' '^' '''''' °^ ^- corres^oSt balome, but he was ir^orant as before who Salome was less of II? .^' '^"' '^' "^^ ^^ y^""^' because the 'wTn si ter alike Si'^::;"^^' ?f"^"^- ^^ ^'^^ ^^^-^"^ t^'"« ^^e usuahy low^" l.r^" ^vJ'T''' ^"^' ^^ ''^^"^^^ characteristics fol' lay. i^ features, hke her coquettisii, and ready to make love as Phihp put it-to the hearth-brush because of i^s whiskers . At Che station he had reckoned on finding a cab a^d HHv o^Lr' 'Butt""'°"' r'^^1 ^"; companion' wrnto'ff'n'a^ other. But, to iis vexation, he found that there were no cabs He must engage a porter to carry his traps on a truck He resolved to go first of all to b-s uncle's ^honse and enau^e whether he was lost in the flood, and if he had been hea?d of or th 'nightftTh"^^ ^^^^A^^f- Then he\ould';ut'up l!',^u.„",T^ ^! *.^V""' '^"d his tuture movements would he .-suiaied by die irforiuauon he received. Ihere are three mns,' answered the man, " but all full 50 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ill 13 J': n m AS ail excursion train on Good Friday. The poor folk that ha been turned out o't ha'ase by t' water ha' been taen into em. Where art 'a going, sir ? " '• To the house of Mr. Pennycomequick, " answered Phihp. " Right you are," said the porter, " Mrs. Baynes is also boun' to t' same, and I can take t' whole bag-o'-tricks on one barrow. ' Philip turned to Janet Baynes with an impatient gesture, which with all his self-control he was unable to repress, and said : " You are going to Mr. Pennycomequick's, I under- stand, madam ? " There was no avoiding it. The tiresome association could not be dissolved at once, it threatened to continue. "Yes," answered Janet. " I spent all my hfe there till I married, and my mother and sister are there now." •' Not relations of Mr. Pennycomequick ? " *• Oh, dear, no. He had been like a father to us, because our own father was killed by an accident in his service. That was a long time ago — I cannot remember the circumstances. Ever since then we have lived in his house. We always call Mr, Pennycomequick our uncle, but he is no real relation. ' Philip strode forward, ahead of the porter ; from the station the road ascended at a steep gradient, and the man came on slowly with the united luggage. Janet quickened her pace, and came up beside Philip. It was like being beset by a fly in summer. " Are you going to Mr. Pennycomequick's ? " asked Janet, panting. She was a little out of breath with walking to keep up with her companion. " Yes." " I am not strong. My breath goes if I hurry, especially in going up hill." •' Then, madam, let me entreat you to spare your lungs and relax your pace." " But then — we shall be separated, and we are going to the same house. Would you mind going just a wee bit slower ? " Philip complied without a word. He questioned for a moment whether he should inform his fellow-passenger of the news that the uncle was lost. But he reflected that he' knew nothing for certain. The message he had received could hardly have been couched in vaguer terms. It was quite possible that his explanation of it was ARRIVAL. 51 false ; it was also not improbable that the alarm given was premature. If Salome were like the young scatterbrain walking at his side, she would be precisely the person to cry " wolf" at the first alarm. He might have enquired uf the porter whether Mr. Pennycomequick had met with an acci- dent, or whether anything had occurred at his house, but he preferred to wait ; partly because he was too proud to enquire ot a porter, and partly because he was given no opportunity oi questioning him out of hearing of his companion. " Are you going to stay at uncle's ? " asked Janet. " I really am unable to answer that question." "But, as you have heard, all the inns are full. Have you any friends in Mergatroyd ? " " Relations— not friends." "What a delightful thing it must be to have plenty of relations. Salome and I have none. We were quite alone m the world, except for mother. Now I have, of course, all my husband's kindred, but Salome has no one." There was no shaking this girl off. She stuck to him as a burr. In all probability he would be housed at his uncle's that night, and so he would be brought into further contact with this person. She herself was eminently distasteful to him— but a sister unmarried !— Philip resolved to redouble his testy manner towards her. He would return to Nottingham on the morrow, unless absolutely compelled by circumstances to remain. There was— there always had been— a vein of suspicion, breeding reserve of manner, in the Pennycomequick family. It was tound chiefly in the men— in the women, that is, in Mrs. Sidebottom— it took a different form. As forces are co-related, so are tempers. It chilled their manner, it made them inapt to form friendships and uncongenial in society. Uncle Jeremiah had it, and that strongly. Towards his own kin he had never relaxed. The conduct of neither sister nor brother had been such as to inspire confidence. To the last he was hard, icy and suspicious towards them. But the warm breath of the litttle children had melted the frost in his domestic relations, and their conspicuous guilelessness had disarmed his suspicions. To them he had been a very differ- ent man to what he h^d annpflr^H tr, r>fVioKo T3l,;j;^'„ f„^i Had behaved foolishly— withdrawn his money from the firm and in a fit of credulity had allowed himself to be swindled out ot It by a smooth-tongued impostor, Schofield. That loss ^"■^ 52 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. had reduced him to poverty, and had soured him. Thence- forth, the Pennycomequick characteristics which had been in abeyance in Nicholas ripened rapidly. Philip had learned from his father to regard the bulk of mankind as in league agamst the few, as characterized by self-seeking, and as unreliable in all that affected their own interests. Philip was aged thirty-four, but looked older than his years. The ex- perience he had passed through had prematurely fixed the direction of his tendencies, and had warped his views of life. By the time that Philip had reached the Pennycomequick door he was in as unamiable a temper as he had ever been during the thirty-four years of his life. He was damp, hungry, cold. He more than half believed that he had been brought to Mergatroyd on a fool's errand ; he did not know where he was to sleep that night, and what he would get to eat. The inns, as he heard, were full ; no more trains would leave the station that night, owing to the condition of the line ; there was not a cab in Mergatroyd, so that he could escape from the place only on foot, and that without his baggage. Moreover, he was in doubt with what face he could appear before his uncle, were Jeremiah at home. His uncle, whom he had only once seen, and that at his father's funeral, had on that occasion shown not the smallest inclination to make his acquaintance. Would it not appear as if, on the first runior or suspicion of disaster, he had rushed to the spot without decorum, to seize on his uncle's estate, and with no better excuse than a vague telegram received from an irre- sponsible girl. " Here is the door," said the porter. Janet ran up the steps with alacrity and knocked. Mr. Pennycomequick's house was formal as himself; of red brick without ornament, half-way up the hill, with its back to the road, and without even that mellow charm which old red brick assumes in the country, for this was red be- grimed with soot, on which not a lichen or patch of moss would grow. » ^^Dur °°^ r^^^ opened in answer to the bell and knocker, and Phihp, after paying the railway porter, requested him to wait five minutes till he ascertained whether he was to spend the night there or go in quest of a bed. - - -._ ,..v. {^«a-xigntca iiaii, lu occ uis iraveiiing comrade locked m the arms of her sister, a young girl of the same age and height and general appearance, with the same ARRIVAL. 53 red-gold hair and the same clear complexion, who was flushed with excitement at meeting Janet. \.,ht ^'^"^ ''^^* it was-these lovely twins clinging to each- Jh 'H ^" ^^?^? °^ ^^^^^^*' laughing, kissing,^fondling Tv^r t^eir^chr^Ls.^'^ '''''' ^^ exuberant Wsure'streamin^ But Philip remained unmoved or contemptuous. He saw his Aunt Louisa and Captain Lambert on the stairs. Philin ^".?^,^^".^hat this bit of pantomime means." thought « Wh.H #1'^ ^'l "^".^r/^S °ff b^f°«-e two young men." What ! Phihp here ! exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom PMin f t'"'^ ^T". *^" ''^''' *° ^'''' her nephew. "SS Phihp ! how good of you to come ! I made sure you would he moment you heard the news, and yet I was not surTbut that you would shrink from it-as you were ou such bad SuTwitHo ""'^- ' ^"1 ^S ?^'^ y- have"a'rrived to sad case ^ professional advice. This is a sad, a very " Mr. Philip Pennycomequick ! " exclaimed Salome, dis- engaging herself from her sister's embrace and standing bkore he young man. She lifted her great searching eyes to his face and studied it, then dropped them, ashfmed at her seen ^' ?; f^^ ^^"^^^' t ^^"^" disappointed at what she had seen tor the moment became towards her he assumed his most uncompromising expression. " I beg your pardon," said he, stiffly, honour ' -^ u^ t^ Salome Cusworth who telegraphed to you." He bowed haughtily. " I am glad." f. M^^"c?l^?"'^ abashed caught her sister's hand, and said first .'A ^1'^'^°"'''"^"^^^' please, let me take Janet away first— she knows nothing, and you must allow me to break the terrible news to her myself." She drew her sister aside, with her arm round her waist in o a room on the ground floor, where she could telT her privately the great sorrow that had fallen on them, had Ho£h^^ ^^ enquiringly after them, and when the door they ?'' ' ^' ^''"' '' " ^h° ^'^ th^y ? ^h^t are " You may well ask." said Mrs. S1V^l^hr^tt««, .< tu H: ^fs'brou'^htT^'' daughters of you7uncIe';; hous^V/r! will ht ^^o^f^V^^"" ".P. ^^y°"^ ^^^'^ Station, and now they will be unfit to do anything when turned adrift." ^ Whom have I the 1 ! I 54 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " But," said Philip, " one is married." "Oh, yes, of course. She has caught her man. I know nothing of her husband, or how he was tackled. I daresay however, he is respectable, but only a manufacturer." " And the unmarried sister is Salome ?" " Yes, an officious, pert piece of goods." " Like her sister." "Now "said Mrs. Sidebottom, "what are you going to do .-' In this house you cannot be accommodated. There are rooms— but everyone's head is turned, servants and all No toast sent up at breakfast. Your best way will be to go to Lambert s quarters in my house. Here you would be amidst a party of tedious women " ri,^,^"* *° ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^^ possible from those young ladies " said Phihp " One has been in the train with me for many hours, and has worried me beyond endurance." " Certainly Go with Lambert. In my house you will be in Liberty Hall. We dine in a quarter of an hour here. You will stay No dressing, quite ^« /awr//^. Fried soles, a joint, and cutlets a la tomato:' "Thank you, I accept ; "for the inns, I learn, are quite full. 1 will give orders to the porter to take my traps over to your house, and then, perhaps, you will give me ten minutes to tell me what has happened to my uncle, for I am still in the dark respecting him." " So are we all," said Lambert. From the room into which Salome had drawn her sister and which was the sitting-room of their invalided mother! "Ti ^I'Tl^ ^^^. sobbing of Janet and the broken accents ot the old lady and Salome. There were tears in all their voices. Then there flashed through the mind of Philip Penny- comequick the thought that, here without in the hall, were the sister and two nephews of the lost man, who had been as yet scarcely alluded to by them, but he had been told about what there was for dinner ; whereas, divided from them by a door, were three persons unconnected with Uncle Jeremiah who were moved by his death or disappearance as by that cf a dear connection. Philip, however, said nothing. He turned to the front door to speak to the oorter. whpn a irir^l^nf Hp" -t ^i-- i--" called his attention to another man who stood on the steps " Beg pardon," said this man, " where is Miss Salome ? " WITH A LOAF AND A CANDLE. 55 - I will call her," said Philip. - Who shall I say wants to speak to her ? " j '^ " The night-watchman, Fanshawe." "Oh, Mr. Fanshawe!" exclaimed Mrs. Sideboltom, run- ning through the hall to him, '' has he been found ? " " No such luck," was the answer. Philip tapped at the door through which the girls had re- treated, and Salome opened it. Her eyes were glittering with tears, and her cheeks were moist. "There is a fellow called Fanshawe wants a word with you, said Philip. The girl advanced through the hall to the door. "Oh, miss ! " said the night-watchman, " some o' us chaps aren t content to let matters stand as they be. For sewer towd gen'lman be somewheer, and we're boun' to mak' anither sarch. We thowt tha'd like to knaw " " But— where ? " " rt canal." " How ?— By night ? " " For sewer. Wi' a loaf o' cake and a can'l." bell CHAPTER X. WITH A LOAF AND A CANDLE. WITH a loaf and a candle ! We live in the oddest world, where men labour to do the simplest things in the most roundabout way, and to put whatever they come in contact with to purposes other than those intended. Full a score of in-the-main not unintelligent men were about to search for the body of their master with a loaf of cake and a candle.- How a loaf and a candle should con- duce towards the finding the object they sought, it is not easy to see. What there was in the nature of loaf or candle to nriake each appropriate to the purpose, not one of these in- the-main not unintelligent men asked. The upper reach of the canal had drained itself away, but at the locks thf? rii«;h nf wafor h'^^ f"-- ' iU_ i _ i "^ . ■ • , J , """: -' ''«•-• i^iiuwcu iiic ucu, pent in as It had been between the walls, and had left deep pools. • In Yorkshire, cake is white bread ; bread is oakcake -haverbr^d~~ 5G THE PENNYCOMEQUrCKS. Below the locks the face of the land was flat, the fall slieht and there the canal was brimming, and much of the S hat had overflowed still lay about in the fields This nor ndict ed ^^.f^""}."™' "^ "^^ "'""^ °f ''- F'eJt'':rh ndicated a tmie perhaps not remote, when it had been a :::%tttT'' "''" ''''""''^' "'"^"""='' overflowed a"nd The whole of the drained canal bed had been searrh^d thiTfvT '^'h °'^ ^"^ '^^- ^"^^^ '^^' carried the road acro's the river and canal, a distance of three-quarters of a mTle but without success. The men who intended prosecuting he Sf "fiit the7"h"'""Hr^ ^^"^*^^^^ belo^w?hrsSred h!l gathering did not consist of men only. With them were some mill girls from a factory on the sYopeThat had not stopped, not having been affected by the^flood They wore scarlet or pink kerchiefs over their heads ninnpH under the chin, and plain white pinafores oprotecr^he'r dresses at their work from the oil, a costume as^^cturesque and becoming as convenient. These girls were there because U?' r ""?'^^b^,^ P^-^- for them-no other reason wu! suffice to explain their presence. But women, water Tnd wind, will penetrate everywhere. Thi^'if ■ f'^^^^r"". "? ^""^ ^^fo"^^' were also on the canal bank IrTf^^A""^^''^ ^" ^^^ experiment about to be trfed but each for different reasons thought it expedient to be pre;ent the fale ZTf T ?' "^"^u ^° ^"*^"^^ ^^' ^^^ anxiety about he fate of Uncle Jeremiah, and Mrs. Sidebottom would be there so as not to seem indifferent. Janet, tired from her lon^ journey, and not strong, did not come out ; she rema ned with her mother. Philip and Lambert P;nnycom^qu"ck were there as a duty ; a disagreeable and onerouTdutv the captain consider- i it because it spoiled his dinner! ^ A loaf and c. aidle. A good rounu loaf of baker's bread had a hole scoooed out of It, and into this hole a tallow candle was thrusf The candle was lighted and sent adrift on the water of the canal The night was dark, the moon (^id not rise for another ^Tu""'. T'^- ^^^^ '^^ ""'^^^ i" the valley were dark No? only had they been brought to a standstill by the flood bu the main of the gas was broken. This was the cause of fhl eclipse likewise of the lamps on the ro.H Th?" !f. ° u^! left the cottage of the lock-keeper, and the bodiVsofThe dead man and his wife had been found and laid on the sodden bed WITH A LOAF AND A CANDLE. 57 A yellow glimmer shone out of the window, for a candle burnt there, and a fire had been kindled. An old woman a relation, driven from her home by the water, was sitting there, trying to coax a fire to keep in, in the wet and rusty grate bones"^^ herself with gin to keep out the chill from her The town on the hill flank twinkled with lights, and just beyond the ridge pulsated the auroral flicker from the distant foundries. The lamps on the railway shone green and red. borne of hose engaged in the search bore lanterns. 1 he cluster on the embankment, with the moving lights, the occasional flash over a red kerchief or a white pinlfore ^icture ^^ ^^*'°"^ '" *^^ '^^*^^' "">ted to form a striking •<Si' there- said one man. " T'leet (light) be headin' agm t stream. ^ ^ ' •' There's no stream flowing," said another. '; There owt to be, and there is for sewer. T'can'l be gan in up t course. " " Because t'wind be blawing frae feast " It was true; the loaf of bread which had been placed in l.t '''t /'./"f^^u^ °^ ^^^^"^ ^ seaward direction with the natural fall of the current, was swimming slowly but per- tnfnLl\ ''^''J^ The yellow flame of^ the candle was v,nH T^^^'a^ ^^f •^°^^'' '^^^^"^ '" ^hich direction the N\md set, and explaining naturally the phenomenon. The current was so slight that the wind acting on the loaf had power to overcome it. " Shos travellin" upwards," said the first speaker. " Sho's bound to seek him aht." m2?na *^^ ^^l^^ suddenly fell a mass of undermined bank, making a splash, and sending the floating light gvratine and dancing as the wavelets formed. One of the^milfgirl "|oing nearW fell in'hf ^',V ^'^ trodden on the loosened soi^ an! • Ml i^^^^^i^' Provoking a laugh and a reprimand. "If thl7.il t'^^'' ^u°°'' ^^'''" ^^°"^^^ °"^ «f the men. 11 tna lallb in I m none boun to hug thee aht." girl'promptlv'^'''^ ^^' '"''"''"^ ^^^' ^"^^•°^' B'"'" answered the ,_ J! ^^ ' " '^V^ another, •' Effie, for sewer thou'rt not bawn Some by-play went on-a half romp-in the rear, between a young woolcomber and a girl reeler. <=iwf,en 38 THE PENNVCOMEQUICKS. 11 m .h,'\^^\ ^''if "•'.' '''°"*f'* *^^ "^S^* ^atch. - we're none come quiet- ^^'"'''^' ""'^ ^^ y°"'^^ ^° ^^'^^i" y°" n^us^^e The incongruity of their behaviour with the gravity of the occasion struck the young people, and they desisted. ^ Vv^hat had become of the refuge hut ? Curiously enough, till this moment no one had noticed its disappearance, perhaps because of the completeness with which It had been effaced. No sooner had tL? s reain n^ne trated to its interior than it had collapsed, and every Ck fttd occupfed^'^^ "'' '^^" '-^'' ^'^y ^-- ^^^ P^ttm lantlr^n. ^''^'''^"'^'' ^'^"^ ^'''"^^ *^'^ ^^''y^ "^"^'^g ^ bulls eye nea?t"hYl)rll^h" ^'^"^ ^'^'''^'^ grappling irons, always kept canll .nH 7h^ ^^''f accidents were not uncommon in the ToTL^.ltA'' ""^^''i '^''""^"" "^^" ^^^^ ^"' children in play felve^s m ' ^ '" Paroxysms of despair threw them^ the'^b^ank'lH^f^ll^' ^^^^' ^5^ ?°^ -^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ «P«t ^here cX'nfitt^hlftreio^^ ^'^ ^^PP^^ ^'^-^ ^^^ -"^ - •' Sho's got an idee ! " " Wheer ? I't crust or i't crumb ? " t' canah' '' ""^^'^ '^""^ ^^^^'^ ^°' '' ^^"I^^^* ^°y^^ (^ole) in all :t was so, the loaf had entered within the walls. the flam^ wT ^""a ^^'"'u'*" ^ ripple, the bread leaped and the flame wavered as a banner. The draught snuffed the growing wick, and carried some of the red sparks awav .nH extinguished them in the black water ^ ^ ^"^ and InnW^fn 7-^^'' "T ^^"^^-^g^ted on the paved platform and looked timorously yet inquisitively into the gulf where ay the pool dark as ink. The candle flame fa ntly Eradiated of the w^tlr^ """^' ^"' P^^"^^^ ^ «^-^k -^ fire on';^":'^!:' When thus enclosed the movements of the loaf were such as to give colour to the superstition, for it careered 7ncircks hen struck across the canal, went back as if disappCin ed in ts ques , ran up the course, and then turned and wenfdown the enclosed space and finaliv r.pm. fnrfb f.. " u!! . i^°Y" walls Thf^rcx ;f KoU J "-..!. .i^iii i/ctwccii me over and righted ,?li? ^ "'°'"'"' ,^"^ ^^"^^^ ^"^ ^^^^ened over, and righted itself again, as relaxing from its search, and WITH A LOAF AND A CANDLE. 59 tossing the flame in a defiant manner, as if it was disgusted with its work and resolved no longer to prosecute the inquiry. But a minute later it came apparently to a better mind ; the flame became steadier, it recommence! its gyrations, de- scribed a loop, and suddenly became stationary at a spot a httle short of half-way across the canal. The strange conduct of the loaf was in reality caused by the currents and revolutions ol the water, but as these were unperceived by those who looked on, they became impressed with the conviction that the loaf was really animated by a mysterious occult power that impelled it to fulfil the task allotted to it. All now stood hushed for full five minutes, almost breath- less, none stirring, every eye directed to the light, to see whether it would remain where it was or recommence its wanderings. Then the night-watch exclaimed : " The moon ! " All turned to the east, and saw the orb rise red above a wooded hill. The darkness was at once sensiblv relieved. " Naw, then ! " shouted Bill ; "in wi't irons, just at' place wheer t' can'l stands." The grapplers were cast in, and caught immediately in some object near the surface. The men drew at the ropes, and the waters gurgled and were disturbed about the loaf, producing a broad commotion. The loaf lef.ped, turned over, and the light was extinguished. It had accomplished its task. " Whatever can't be ? " asked one of the men. " Sho might be a coil (coal) barge sunk i't canal. Sho's sae heavy." " Stay," said the night-watch. " T'water for sewer ain't deep here, nobbut up to t' armpits. Whativer it be, tis this at ha' caught and held t' cake. Ah fancy t' top o't concarn is just belaw t' surface. If some o' you chaps '11 help, I'll get in, and together we'll hug it out." Two or three volunteered, and after much wading and splashing a cumbrous article was heaved out of the water, but not by three or four men ; for several more, tauntedby the mill lasses, went in to the assistance of the first volunteers. " \yhy ! " rose in general exclamation. " Sho's a pi-ano." This discovery provoked a laugh, in which all shared. '* How iver could a piano ha" got there ? " was asked. *' That beats a'," shouted another, '• that t'loaf and can'l shud tell where a piano lay drounded." r 60 THK I'ENNYCOMEQUICKS. m " What was it ? " in slJ'e'f/ piX'ef ™'^ ''"''"' "' "'^ ""'^^ "«« broken bv i, 'hat they screa'^ntrd o'in" udden teX fir"fh^"'tP'^^^"' answered the auestinn wl,=, ,k . if, ' '°r— 'hough no one was-everyone\n™ " "*"' '"°' o" '""^ ■=»"»' surface the^iir:l"i::r,':^^gff .• -d "^'""« "" ">« screan, of 'he water, reached the obtr; H ^''^"«' '*<> m^" waded into and with 'the assltance oH LrHai ed U Ind"! '°H "l" "'"t' tow-path. "liiers raised it and laid it on the tatiJn''?nd''refo°rnd ThT'?'' "' '^'" ^ momentary hesi- bullWe'Jam:rnWand dorn'?"^" '''''" "^« ^^>- "^ ^is almostValt^recog^Ttion'' '°'^ ^■"^' ^^~^^'«<^ »- defaced find"orbTh" crothTs^oTi;;/?''' '"« pol,cema„, •• we must and mu.ila^ted-'?s a p'icTur For%^f •''"1'* ^ '^^' "■»='hed fallen on him that k ^nThL IZ ""^f'? J''^ P'»"° '""st ha' recognize" " *"' ''^^'^' ^"<1 '«" •>»' a feature to It walL'^VhitoSS rlcrefe'd'"'"'"™''",^ "'ght-watch. bare legs and feet and wnr. 1""" P^tially naked, with and a ^eat coat "° ^"^ """^ "'^" ^ nightshirt wor^h^c'ome fort^d"' 'Tnd 'h'e\f°'"T''"; " L^' ^'^ t- or ara. And he stooped and spread his hand- WITH A LOAF AND A CANDLE. kerch,ef over ,he face. There was no need for her ,o see wUh'cXVsuraf,i°r'f,, sh'e" ha":r,h^'"'"'-=.t«' ""' ''PoKe corpse at her feet ^'' thoroughly studied the was'Xted1„"T'b,a':k^.[/*=?,Th:rb''""'''' ^"^ -'''^ "he " I beg your oardon - ca!l%T ^^.^" °"^ ^^ dinner." .hat in th*; bSasrof' e ovic'oTh'n' *"'} ?-•"='- F™m and held it close to the ianlern '''"' '""'' * "'^ <=«e, card ct:.'.'^"'' '■"■"'^diately. ■• Vhat is Mr. Pennvcomequicks l>ack. -^ '"^ ^°"or of the scene, Salome shrank poc?%h^l^dZTsw'rs'b,rd?:t"ar ^.'r'- ^^ 'h-^ M:*^a^r^o;'d^.^.-"'."J-'^en^t,!;e^^ the'policLtn'"^' "'" "^ ^'"""'^ ^ without his boots," said foo.:psUn^fh; ff'^n tt wa1i'rtcr,-H " ^?^°- "•" ^ and drag him down. I can swelr'.n s ^^'""°<f- as they fill brother. Remove the bod; to th^ housl"'''"'"^-""" ''">>' 62 THE PENNYCOMEgUlCKS. CHAPTER XI. EXPECTATION. AS Philip Pennycomequick came next day to the house of mourning — mourning, because three dressmakers were engaged in making it — he saw that ail the blinds were down. In the hall he met Salome, who was there, evidently awaiting him. She looked ill and anxious, and her eyes were bright with a feverish lustre. She had not slept for two nights. The extraordinary delicacy of her complexion gave her a look as of the finest porcelain, a transparency through which her doul)ting, disturbed and eager spirit was visible. Her pallor contrasted startlingly at this time with he gorgeous tone of her luxuriant hair. Her eyes were large, the irises distended as though touched with belladonna, and Philip felt his mistrust fall away from off him, as in some fairy tale the armour of a knight loosens itself, drops and leaves him unhar- nessed before an enchantress. But the enchantment which dissolved his panoply of suspicion was an innocent one, it wc»s the manifestation of real suffering. He could see that the girl was rendered almost ill by the mental distress caused by the loss of her friend and guardian. That she had loved him, and loved him with an innocent, unselfish affection, seemed to him undoubted. " I beg your pardon for way-laying you, Mr. Pennycome- quick," she said, in a timid voice ; one white hand lifted, with an uncertain shake in it, touching her lips. " But I very much desire to have a word with you in private before you go upstairs to Mrs. Sidebottom." " I am at your service." She led the way into the breakfast-room, recently cleared of the meal. She went to the window, and stood between the glass and the curtain, with her left hand entangled among the cords of the Venetian blind. In her nervousness it was necessary for her to take hold of something. Her delicate fingers ran up the green strings and played with them, as though they were the strings of a harp on which she was practising, and, strangely enough, Philip felt within him every touch ; when she twanged a chord, some fibre in him quiv- ered responsive, and was only lulled when she clasped the string and stopped its vibration. EXi'ECTATION 63 i-^ner lit'lit lik,. tV.« a more (lian colour, an apparent hea,l of the h,,^rfrau '^'Tsl"'' ""l' ^"1"'""" °" 'he whi?e will soon le'saur''fsi°ll'?„t'°,r"' '''■ ^'''y^n.equick. to differ from Mr, SWeb „^„1 TVI y°" '°"«- ' "'" ^"'•y viction that the bodytmdlasi „u h,';;"';!; i t"' ''^ '=°"- ;; You do no. djs/u.e Ihat'he is'£jV" "' °' ^°" '"'^'^••" about that." ' "^''"' • " ' ""■"'^ ""=- -" be no quest.on " \v'iy doyou say no?" outlj^',. Tsr^^rhe'tad l"v"" '"'^"' ""- he wen, ^rtnV-^.!;~SS?^-"?-^'^™^ was founj." ""^ ^^^ ''"^^ recovered from the canal sible/' %lmTSa"^ ^^^ '^^ but not impos- my uncle the same ni^ht fn / T" '? ^° ^^^ '^^^'-ooni of dress clothes or Tom^ nf ;/°""^ ^^? ^^^ disturbed, and the that he pulled on hSovernn'?' ""J '^' '"^^^- ^he concludes he got caugh? by the water son- ^^^ ""' half-dressed, that porary refuge, and saw that hki^'V" '°'"^ P^^^^' °^ t^^"^" strip and swir^ ThaT 1 p Hr^ °"^>' ^'^^"^e of escape was to protection against the cold t^lT Z " ^''^' '°"* ^^^^" ^« ^ him to make the plunge-but il^ ^'?^f T"^^"* ^^'^^ ^or start to swim, either his couLt f TS^";^^' *^^* ^^ "^^^^ ^^^ '""Non;r-alfST==«""°"'"^^^^- quick." Salonli~:!ili'^^y: ;%r' '!i'' °' ^''' P«"nvcon,e. gripped the string hard """"^"'y- ^"'^ "^ ■''he spoke her hand i Si' 64 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. >fl auburn hair. Philip took occasion to examine her counte- nance more closely than had been possible before. She was like her sister in build, in feature and in tone of colour, indeed strikingly like her, but in that only — certainly, Philip thought, in that only. All at once she looked up and met Philip's eyes. •• No — a thousand times, no," she said. " That is not uncle. He was brought here because Mrs. Sidebottom de- sired it, and is convinced of the identity. No objection that I can raise disturbs her. I thought that possibly, last night, I might have judged on insufficient evidence, and so I went this morning into the room to look at the corpse. Mrs. Side- bottom had sent last night for women who attended to it, and it was laid out in the spare room." She began to tremble now as she spoke, and her fingers played a rapid movement on the blind cords. I had made up my mind to look at him, and I did." She paused, to recover the control that was fast deserting her, as the delicate glow of colour in her face had now left it. " It is not my uncle. I looked at his hands. The head is — is not to be seen, nothing is distinguishable there — but the hands are not those of Mr. Pennycomequick. " In what does the difference consist ?" " I cannot describe it. I knew his hands well. He often let me take them in mine, when I sat on the stool at his feet by the fire, and I have kissed them." The clear tears rose in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. " I am quite sure — if those had been his dear hands that I saw on the bed this morning, I would have kissed them again, but I could not," she shook her head, and shook away the drops from her cheeks. " No — I could not." " Miss Cusworth," said Philip, " you are perhaps unaware of the great alteration that is produced by immersion for many hours." " They are not his hands. That is not uncle." She was so conspicuously sincere, so sincerely distressed, that Philip relaxed his cold manner towards her, and said in a gentle tone, '* Did my uncle wear a ring ? There was none on the handr of the man found yesterday." " No — he wore no ring." •' Wit'; what did he seal his letters ?" " Oh ! he had a brass seal with his initials on it, with a handle, that was in his pen tray. He used to joke abr . it and say he was a J. P. without the Queen's commission." counte- She was r, indeed thought, t is not :tom de- :ion that St night, o I went vs. Side- o it, and le now as it on the id I did." ieserting w left it. lead is — -but the He often t his feet s rose in sure — if bed this lid not," rom her unaware •sion for stressed, d said in ;ras none t, with a ab'- . it on." EXPECTATION. g^ an^^™-;r^3S - ^ -yond ._, boy.^and then under circumstances precluding "exact oTser- Salome said nothing to this, but heaved a Ions breath Zstl^r "^'"^ ^"'' " ^°"'- --ther-has sheTeL'uke'n terrnr^^''-r''!^^'''^^^!"'^^ ^^^°'"^' ^^^^^^^d as by a fresh terror. You do not know my mother. She has he^rt ror^ plamt, and we have to be most careful nnf ?,r^l i ? ^' She shivered. '« It cannot be." "And your sister ?" She turned faint when brought to the door auA j u not persuade her to e^ter. Sh? has been muchTrfed K.Th^ German invasion of F.ance, and her hurrie? journey^' ^ " PhuV^tTdrew '"'" " "''°"^' *^^^ ^^ ^"•" tefwarhln^s^elft- rSr^ "'''''' "'^" ^'^ °- «'- •' Has she gained you over to her side ?" Upon my word I do not tnn«r »rU cii tv^ mink. they ar/be«er advo^alesfh:' S to„7ues'°" '° "'« '"«■" ' \ ffj 66 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. / " The difficulty to identification seems to me insuperable." " Pshaw! I have no doubt at all. He had been to bed ; he went out without his coat and waistcoat. He was last seen on the canal bank, not so very far from the place where the corpse was found. The body is discovered wearing the great coat. I have told you how I explain that. I suppose Salome has made a point to you that the nightshirt was not that of uncle Jeremiah. Her mother looked after his linen," " No, she said nothing of that." " But I identify the shirt." "You, aunt?" " Yes ; it is one I gave him." * " You — gave him. An extraordinary present." " Not at all. I was his sister ; and I know that an old bachelor's wardrobe would be in a sad state of neglect. I intended to replenish him with linen altogether." Philip was greatly surprised. He looked fixedly at his aunt, to make out whether she were speaking seriously. She dashed off, however, at once on another topic. " That girl," she said, " naturally resisted the conclusions at which I have arrived." "Why naturally?" " Oh, you greenhorn ! Because if it be established that ieremiah is dead, out goes the whole Cusworth brood. They ave lived here and preyed on him so long that they cannot endure the notion of having to leave, and will fight tooth and nail against the establishment of his decease." " Not at all. You misjudge them. They allow that he is dead, but disbelieve in the identity of the corpse found with my uncle who is lost, which is another matter." • " Out they shall go," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " It is painful for them to leave a house where they have been happy, and in which the young ladies have grown up from childhood." " Other people have to undergo painful experiences," said his aunt ; and again, " Out they go." " Not at once." " As soon as the funeral is over." " But why act with such precipitation ? " " Because I cannot endure them. Do you remember the story of the Republican judge, when a gentleman contended before him for his paternal acres against a sans-culotte, who had appropriated them ? ' These acres,' said the plaintiff, EXPECTATION. 67 erable." to bed ; ast seen here the he great Salome t that of : an old fleet. I y at his ly. She lat giri," li I have led that . They / cannot )oth and hat he is md with ley have Town up es," said mber the intended )tte, who plaintiff, 'have belonged to my family for four hundred years.' ' Hiffh time, said the judge, 'that they should be transferred to others; and he gave sentence for the defendant. These Cusworths have been m possession quite long enough. Hieh time that they should budge, and make room for me " " But you must consider the feelings of the oH lady You have no excuse for acting peremptorily." " I shall enquire what wage she has received, pay her a month, and send her off That is to say," added Mrs. Side- bottom on further consideration, - I will pay her as soon as I have got some of Jeremiah's money out of the bank " >roved"^ ^^^^ "^^^ "°^ ^^ touched till his will has been " There is no will." " How do you know that ? " " I have searched every drawer, closet and chest. I have looked everywhere. There is no will." " It will be at the lawyers." " Jeremiah never had a lawyer. That was one of his fads." "Then at the bank. "I wrote to the bank the moment I heard of his death, have received an answer. There is no will at the bank." Ihere is time enough to discuss this later." - No, there is not," said Mrs. Sidebottom, peremptorily. 'The factory niust not be allowed to come to a stand, and the business to drift away. You have no claim." hJl f'^'^^T *° ^^ '*'^"- ^^ ^^^'^ be no will, I shall have a claim, and a pretty substantial one." " Your father withdrew his share from the concern. I did k^h J %![^^ '"^^'^'^ *" *^^ business, and will see that it is kept up. Where is Lamb ? " in the^halL"^^^^" ""'" ^^ ^^""^ ^''^''^^^- ""'^' ' ^ ^^^' ^'"^ In another minute Lambert Pennycomequick entered the room very fresh, well dressed, and pleasant !! J^jmb ! " exclaimed his mother, " there is no will." f.L . ' ^"P.POse," said the captain, "we shall have to take out an administration. I don't understand these thTngs myself but cousin Philip is here on the spot to manage for us/' It there be no will.' evr^lain^^ t»u;i:„ <. .__ a tZT' V ^°^^,f,r^'iving sister of "uncleVeremiahf will hav"e to act You will have to take oath that i^e is dead, and thit he died intestate. Then you will be granted admi^fstra o' 68 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. as next of kin. If I had any doubt about his death I would enter a cav^a^ and prevent the grant; and then the death would have to be proved in solemn form in court. But I have no doubt that my uncle is dead, though I may think it an open matter whether the body in the other room be his." " And if I am granted administration as nearest of kin all the property comes to me ? " said Mrs. Sidebottom " Not so— most certainly." " Why not ? I am nearest. I alone have a stake in the mi 1. Yours was withdrawn long ago. I am his sister, you only a half-nephew." ^ " For all that, you do not take everything. I have mv share. ^ "Well, if it must be, we will divide into three. I take a third in addition to what I have by my marriage settlement • Lamb has a third, and you the remainder." ' " Wrong again, aunt. Lambert is out of the running. The estate will be divided between you and me in equal portion^? " " This is monstrous. My Lambert is a nephew every whit as much as you." "^ " Yes, but you intervene. Such is the law." Mrs. Sidebottom was silent for a moment. Then she said irritably, " I wish now, heartily, that there had been a will 1 know what Jeremiah's intentions were, and I would grieve to my heart's core to have thcin disregarded. In conscience, 1 could not act differently from his wishes. If he omitted to make a will, it was because he knew nothing of law, and sup- posed that everything would devolve to me, his sister. Philip knowing the rectitude of your principles, I am sure you will decline to touch a penny of your uncle's inheritance. You know very well that he never forgave your father, and that he always regarded his leaving the business as an acquittal of all further obligations towards him." " I must put you out of doubt at once," said Philip «' I shall most certainly take my share." " I do not believe that my brother died without a will I never will believe it. It will turn up somehow. These 'old fogies have their odd ways. Perhaps it is at the mill in his ofhce desk. What a world of contrarieties we do live in ' Those persons to whom we pin our faith as men of principle — j„ ., ,...,„._ „,,^. ,a„ lia. However, to turn to another mat- ter. I presume th?t I am in authority here. You have no caveat to offer against that ? " I would le death But I think it be his." f kin, all e in the iter, you ave my I take a lement ; ig. The •rtions." iry whit she said 1 a will. i grieve science, litted to ind sup- Philip, you will 3. You that he alofall ilip. "I will. I lese old 1 in his live in ! rinciple er mat- lave no EXPECTATION. G9 " None a^ all." ;; Then out go the Cusworths, and at once." .^ „ She .s jusffied in forming her own opinion and expressing amount o, wages her rhlts^U^v:/a"„VhrZch''l: her: ^rNo^an?;fa™tr;.t c".^o^s t,xt houses are scarce at present in Mergatrcyd ' ' ^ '^^* rhen let them go elsewhere. To Jericho, for all I care " Lambert had left the room as desired. With t^i;rj ™tid™.To„ "tiJa"rt trcu^rrth^^""! ^£"^SrS^ -""Pon "e-i^h-fthe som'l^h^at'red^trhfstan'^eV''^"'" ^"'^ ""'■ ^'''^^»°'"- van.ll'^Pdf -aid JS.p.^L^ugtV" " '""' ''■ teZ^Zt:^^!:^?^^'.':'^^'''] Salome, and as thev en- near the'eiri ■'a'cint''hi"""";"*"r°' " """ ^'^^ "P '"^ Position solence fnd .'See ^"" ' "= 'f, '<> P^'^ct Salome from in- s.gnificance oPthe move nt nf h°"r ""'^T^oo'i the 3 movt..,.nt, bit her lips, and said with 70 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. constraint, looking on the ground, " May I ask you, Miss Cusworth, to favour us by taking a chair. There is no occasion for you to stand in my presence. I have taken the liberty tc send for you, because my poor dear brother is dead, and as no reasonable doubt remains in any unprejudiced mind that his body has been found " Salome's lips closed. She looked at Philip, but said nothing. She had made her protect. One on this occasion would bi superfluous. ** We desire in every way to act according to the wishes of my darling brother, whom it has pleased 3 ben* f cent Provi- dence " — she wiped her eyes — "to remove from 'his vale of tears. As his sister, knowing his inmost thoughts, the dis- position of bis most 5i«xred wishes, his only confidant in the close of life, i may say I know what his intentions were as well as if he had left a will." •* There is a will," said Salome, quietly. "A will!— Where?" " In my workbox." A silence ensued. Mrs. Sidebottom looked very blank. ■' On the very night he died he gave it me to keep, and I put it iway in ray workbox, as I had nothing else that locked up. 7vl/ woikbox is in my room upstairs. Shall I fetch the will?" " No," said Philip, " let it stay where it is till after the funeral." ('ou, Miss ire is no :akfin the r is dead, ced mind but said occasion wishes of nt Provi- s vale of the dis- mt in the 5 were as blank, ind I put )cked up. he will?" after the SURPRISES. 71 CHAPTER XII. SURPRISES. 11 rHEN the funeral was over, and the family of Pennv her mourning she looked young again Th^ hl!.;i, ^ '" brighter, less languid .2^1,0 hadfo'Tong'^''' ''"""" '°°''^'' show that the Cusworth L™;! "l"^ consignment did not will ; whether thHakiL^'p'S 'i'es^fon tit' ""^'«'«d in the elusion of a consDiracv tn J2 tl U ' "*"* "°* ">e eon- ment al.ogetheHn' the?r favour "' °-" '""" '" """^ ^ '-«- she enteteVthe roVrn 'but'?o!!k"h "'°^"'° ""^' Salome when folded and faet imp^nurbablta'nd s^eTh^rS TlKT r>r^ congealed it. "' ^^ " ^ frost had posS^of'h^l :relerp"L:rT."^ Z'°"%"1^ "V'" "^^ "is- above the passions anSrh"^;;^."!,^,"'!''''™ been raised reri^rh^wU ^^:^J^^^^' ^'^o-^:^ soiS -r\ru.rt-^eo>^r; - -ith-i^ t ;i^l ;i 78 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. windfall, would be when well advanced in years to be taken in the firm of Pinch & Squeeze for his mastery of the details of the business. He would be incapable of purchasing a partnership, as he was wholly without capital. What means his father had possessed had been thrown away, and there- with his prospects. Philip's only chance of recovering his proper position was through a bequest from the uncle whose will was about to be read. If Jeremiah had died intestate, he would have come in for a share of the business, and for a good lump sum of money, for it is quite certain that his uncle had saved money. He might then have either purchased a partnership in a good legal house, or carried on the factory, remaining at Mergatroyd. It was true that he knew nothing of the technique of linen weaving, but his training had taught him business habits, and he was confident that in a short time he would be able to master the ramifications of the business. There is a tool sold by ironmongers that contains in the handle, saw, file, gimblet, turnscrew, chisel, bradawl, and punch. The nozzle of the handle is provided with a grip that holds or discharges such of the tools as are required or done with. Thus the instrument can be converted at pleasure into whatever is desired. A business education makes a man mto such a convertible tool, ready, as required, to be saw, file, turnscrew, or punch. Philip was conscious of his mental flexibility, and confident that if he resolved to make a new departure, he could fit him- self to it. The knowledge that he had been without means had not soured him as it had his father, but had hardened him. His profession had conduced, as this profession does in many cases, to foster in him a strong and touchy sense of rectitude. Brought into contact with mankind in its ignoble aspects, seeing its sordidness, selfishness, laxity of principle where self-interest is concerned, he had framed for himself a rigorous code of honour, from which nothing could make him swerve by a hair's breadth. In the past he had made no calculation on receiving any- thing from his uncle, but now that the possibility qf his getting something was presented to him, he could not contemplate the decisive moment with equanimity. The tiger that has tasted human blood ever after disdains the food that pre- viously satisfied its maw ; and the young lady who has been SURPRISES. 3C taken e details lasing a t means d there- tion was ut to be le in for money, sy. He a good 2fatroyd. of linen 3its, and able to ool sold gimblet, e of the charges Thus itever is vertible punch. Dnfident fit him- : means ardened does in ;ense of ignoble rinciple mself a ike him ng any- getting iuiplate lat has lat pre- is been 73 winn'ot 'af^erward^Tetrn ?o the^^ TT' '"^° ^ ^"^ b^"' country life. If Phihn h.H h f^^riety and monotony of ham without expeS Ll h. ",^ '° P^°^ °" ^' dotting- than it had Teremiah T f 1 brother more suffering manufacture/3d leave evlvthTnT. T^""^^' '^'' '^' ^^^ with whom he had alwavs St^m.H *^ ^^^«°"' than that he should favour h^l.w^^^^^ connection, and trusted them pE h T' ^Y^^^*^^^ Jeremiah liked and alone could be:T;eafed ^by the wu/'^ "^^"^ °^ J"^^'"^' '^^^ be lre%"s''to&?r„'t '" disappointment would himself. He was nH^H ^^^^^^^^red to acknowledge to flutter of hope if he ±f.T^ "^^'^ ^^"^-^"^^ ^°^ feeling^ny turn to NoUbgham to h?« f ^^ disappointed, he would re^ the rest of ^t in fsu^^ dinaL nn^^V '°"i'"" °^ "^^' ^"^ spend ness and ease for whfch a ^^n oT^h"'*'!"'" °^ ^^^ ^'^^^'^ atmosphere in which his soul r.n u ^^^^^'^^ ^'^^^^ ^^ ^^ did not desire ease hilf. 5 ^ ^^^^^^^ and expand. He his faculties to deveionfnn^^^ ''' obtain'^scope for they were proLslonir^^^^^ directions than those to which of the inner self tranfhni ' ^"^ *° P"^^«h the other facets He would hke to buy bo?ks 't^a'ke l^*',' '^^^^ grindstone, nent, to purchase small^rH J f ^ ^°^'^''>' °" ^^^ Conti- out of the contracted irrff ^'^f ^"^f«' /o be able to rise sn.^lpreiudiraTd1ar;;t^ntr^/^7 '''''■'''' ^^^^ ^'^ ^'^ genfat^'n^TnleThis'Lde^'rne'"'^ '\'''^' ^^ — out of ,t. he must remain in fMcQ? S^T.^''" '^^"&« *« "se quently it was w'th a beating h f *>'"lP^^^ian bog. Conse- tions of hope Tnd fear hat ^^ ^"^ ^''- '""^^'"^ ^"^*"^- none of this unrest rnnlHK ^"^"'^^^ *^^ decision ; but bear in it a "i^^L^;^,!^-- - ^- ^-e. that did not a sett ^%Z^ ^"f^ u"^' ^'"- Sidebottom waved to her to take stepped uptlhiiinTnr^Vn^ ^ ^^^^^^ acknowledgment! wa^^iveifl^STtk^^^I^"^-!^^ 74 THE PENNYCOMEQUICK8. cannot even now resign it absolutely, as Mr. Pennycomequick told me that I wa;, to keep it and prove it." ciousl^°" P''°v« >t ' " exclaimed Philip, glancing at her suspi- •• You—! •• cried Mrs. Sidebottom. •• Fiddlesticks. That IS to say, impossible." '•You must remain in the room, Miss Cusworth," said i'n t the will is read, after which we will remit it to you I ', fi._ ge. J7,°^j^*r* *° ^"^^ ^^ ^'■e "ot of the family bein^r present " said Mrs. Sidebottom. ^ ' .. A"?r°"''^°^J^*^**^" '""^^ ^^ P"* aside," answered Philip. As Miss Cusworth has been entrusted with the document and required to n— - •; she must remain." Mrs. Sideb. .lom tossed hti head. Philip drew his penknife from his pocket, opened it, and leisurely cut through the top of the envelope, ex- . tracted the document, and unfolded it. He glanced at the heading, and then with lawyer-like instinct at the end then, with a sharp look of surprise at Salome, who waited with lowered eyes, he said, " This is worthless. The signa- ture has been torn away." ^ "Torn away ! " echoed Mrs. Sidebottom. " This is a cancelled will," said Philip. «• It is of no more Tt to^ ou ? '^^^*^ ^'^^^''' ^^^" ^"^ ^°" ^^"^ ""y """"^^ entrusted "Shortly before he left the house on the night t* ; t he disappeared. I am quite sure he thought it was of in ort- ance, from his manner towards me in connu^ iding it ' ^'e said it was a trust, an important trust." " Then " said Philip, " here is some mystery b' ind unsolved. -^ " Read It," urged Mrs. idebottom ; " and see if that will clear it up. T wir read it -ertaini ," said Philip ; " but it is a docu- ment entirely devoid of legal force." Philip began to run his eye over it before reading aloud. " .vc,l, upon m, word," -.id Mrs. Sidebottom, " you are inc inea to keep us on tenterhooks. The will, if not valid, is .. .u" ^•^^^'" ^^'^ Piuiip, ii^ a tone thr.t had harshness in it, this IS a mo ex^ lordinary dn-ument. L is in the first place clearly n le from some )f those formulas which are SURPRISES. 76 amequick ler suspi- :s. That th," said 1 remit it present," I Philip. )cument. >ened it, ope, ex- 1 at the :he end, ) waited le signa- no more ntrusted th.-Jt he in^^ ort- it. rr. behmd hat will a docu- aloud. you are /alid, is ss in it, he first lich are V^ir^^^ ^now picked out of The last ^ rt.on is also clearly ?;ken rnm ^^7^^ Save-All.' but IS the xpression of my unc e's n./yr "?.^°^'""'^ ^^ '*"• " Well, read it. and pass vonr L^ 'Y ^^'o^yncracies." Mrs. Sidebottom shift^nf ^ ^^'"'nents on it later." said rearranging herTkirts^ "" P°''''°" ^" ^^' ^^at and He^w^ear^f hT^s™a?th:1abr"!i^"^ ^^^"^ ^^ ^^^^^ " I Tfr^^mioi! T? *^"^^' ^"^ proceeded to read • Counl; otek^\:d^?hTw^s?Rrd'i'n ',^^T'oy,, '" ^^^^ facturer. being in sounS heaui an'd fnllf n """^^' "^f ""' faculties, do give, bequeath, and de. ise al ZTT 5^ ""^ sonal estate of which I sha 1 hi ^ J *"® ^^^^ ^"^ Per- time of my decease toLther wf^^''^''^^ °' ""*^*^^^ ^^ t^e J^arden. wLch are al Sold Ir?^ ^'"'°'">'' '">' ^°"^^ ^^^^ with all the appurtenance- thereof '"/^ ^^^''^ *°^'^*her -y adopted dru^ghteTabs'luteTvT charL^a'C^^^^ ''"^"^^^^k such sum annually to be paid out rJ^if ^ ^i!''''^^''^"' ^^^^ my h f-sister. Louisa sfdeboHnn. ^ P'°^*'' ^'^ ''^^«' ^o ' marriage settlement And I A r^' !,' "^^^ ^^'^^^ ^y ^er my nephew. Lambert S^debotto^ ^"^r"' ^"^ ^^^"«^th to Pennycomequicrto each sever.n' ^""^ ^"^ "'^^ '' ^'^^ - ^^^^P pounds, to be pa d to th? ^Z 1^ ^u ^"""'^^ "^ °"« hundred said Philip Pen^nycomlquick durin^^h'' S'^^^«^^.«- ->d the half.quarterly payments And I h! u""'' respect.v( lives, in to invest a sufficient sum tthl ^^/ '"^"/"^ '"y executor out of the moneys arishS from ^"'"^^'^ f '"^^ ^"""^ti^s further appoint t^he aforesaid 9. ^^ P%''°"^' "'^^*^- ^nd I daughter; sole executrTx o n.^^^^'T ^"j^^^^h. my adopted wUls by me at anTtr^he^etoLrl^r' ^'^^'^ ^^ ^--- my httime^anTnem 'tri^'"^^"^' '^^^ ^^^^^ ^o-se of desire may not be soLnll T"'^'' ^"^ ^^at little I ha4.e I long robe.Ull^!^r?he ;e„eS'n""T L'^ ^"^^^^"^^" <^^ ^^e and wishing that there was morf. ^^""^ -^^ ^^ ^ distance. world I demise thit shouf / 4at rir^oub f" '^^ " ^'^ by going to law bv mm ^ '' f^acee trouble my executor tribS_na,^hatSve^! th^'S ,.-,!"/ ^^^ ."^ !^-.' -- ^ Canterbury (Bedford f, 67). '^^ '' ^""^ ' '" "" P"' «ive CourYat 76 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I Phihp paused, then added, " The will is dated about a twelvemonth ago, and is witnessed by Marianne Cusworth, xyidow, of Mergatroyd, and John Dale, surgeon, of Brid- lington. The silence that had been maintained during the reading continued unbroken for a couple of minutes after it was concluded. The first to break it was the captain, who said, " A bad job tor me. I lose my hundred a year, and am left as before, dependent on my mother's apron string." Philip looked at Salome; she saw by the contraction of the irises of his eyes that there was aversion in his heart. " vliss Cusworth," he said in metalhc tones, " There is but one explanation of this extraordinary matter, this explan- ation that presents itself to my mind, m not to your credit, bhall I say what I think, or shall I forbear ? " 'I Tell me what your opmion is," she said quietly. " This will was drawn up, clearly without advice and by Axfu°^" t"^' ^y ^y ""^^^' ^^- Jeremiah Pennycomequick. What can have induced him to make such an unjust disposi- tion of his property in your favour, you can bes' tell." '1^,^^",,"°* *^"- ^^ ^s unjust. I am glad that the will is worthless. " Sou- grapes, ' muttered Mrs. Sidebottom to her son. '• That undue influence was exercised, I make no doubt. Had this will been perfect, with signature complete, Mrs. bidebottom, who risks nothing by the outrageous proviso in the second part, would have contested it; this I doubt no more than I doubt that pressure was brought to bear on an old, and perhaps feeble man, to make this will." Salome's blood flamed up to the roots of her hair. •• After this will had been made and duly attested, my uricle on thinking the matter over calmly, consider.! the injustice he had done, and cancelled his signature. He had changed his mind. You, I presume, still exercised pressure on him, and to relieve himself of this, he gave the will into your custody ; it was a deception probably justifiable under the circumstances. He unquestionably intended to make another will with quite different provisions, but was prevented by death from executing his intentions." Yon thinlr " ^vrl exclaip^'^H , .^ ^. I i_ _ _ " 1 her colour changing rapidly, " You think 1 could behave so unworthily." •* I can find no other solution." 1 SURPRISES. 77 about a usworth, of Brid- iring the s after it " A bad s before, ction of :art. rhere is explan- r credit. and by nequick. disposi- e will is son. > doubt. :e, Mrs. )viso in 3ubt no r on an :ed, my red the de had •ressure ill into ; under I make jvented ng ana lave so She was cut, wounded to her heart's core. You say that the will was given you to keen F^, .„},.♦ "'"Ves 'K^'T^:' -^--^^d'you ex'traordSy ?^" "^'^' he gave^'t me.' ^'^'""' " '° ^^^ Pennycomequick%. : • .,en " But why did he think it necessary to give it you when ™Xr." Tri ss ±i^ » » -•"- nanaea it to me. His manner was so serious." .•„f« "°*- ^"PPose it was tampered with after it camP into your possession .? " i' ^ **'^" «*"er u came ,.SS!l' ".°' ^^""V^^^^y not. It was locked up in my workbox laid'^lS^se thTgte"^-'' ''^ "'"' " ^''^ '"^ '°"^ "ave been Salome again crimsoned. Phihp bowed stiffly. w.£i -sr rotf i:rwto trt -r- :- mother were "down on the gW too^Wd •■ .'. rL °''"\^''? Vo^TSer^r Sanc":^>ouM h\-\ade^tratt said' s'abme"'^''. T ^' '"f P^'''« °f f<=h meanness as myself," iust^:ir, con^^r.^ -^hf ■?-/-,- -#- =n H!Xls;sh"e^s^:;tr:f?L'rS;;.-"'' ^P- °f «- '" 78 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. i .!; » CHAPTER XIII. WHAT NEXT ? WHAT was to be done ? Mrs. Sidebottom was the first to see what was to be oif-^^^^ *-^i^^ °"* ^" administration at once," she said Fhihp said nothing. Of course she must do what she said, bhe was the proper person to take out an administra- tion as nearest of kin. But he was not thinking of her and ot what she proposed to do. He was standing with the will in his hand. Salome had not reclaimed it, as it was worth- less. He proceeded to fold it and replace it in the cover. Fhilip was not easy in his mind. He had spoken in a rude manner to the girl, throwing a gross charge against her, and had grievously hurt her. Was the charge just ? Was it possible to explain the peculiar circumstances in any other way than that which had occurred to him ? Suddenly looking up at Mrs. Sidebottom and then at the Captain, he looked down again, and this time with great attention at the envelope. ^ " The envelope has been tampered with." he said. " In what way ? " asked Mrs. Sidebottom. "It has been opened by means of a heated penknife tC''i^^7 ""^'^^ °^ *^^ ^'"^k^ ^hat have been rubbed off the blade upon the paper; and here are cuts made by the knife m the paper The envelope, after having been sealed was opened carefully, even cunningly." ' ' " Why carefully or cunningly I cannot tell, but of course opened it has been," said Mrs. Sidebottom. "You do no? suppose Jeremiah could destroy his signature without open- ing the envelope ^ ^ "Certainly not. But I should not have supposed he would take pains to do it in such a manner. He had plenty ''Jift^l envelopes at hand. Then again, to refasten it a hffnlt i Tl'l^A^J^'' was employed to what had been used belore, a slie^ht differprir^ in tint ^f o^^^i,.*. „^ j ci/^r, ^f ♦u '\ T~ ^' :;v.ai..ci, and uijc impres- sion of the stamp can be traced over the other, the earlier Lonk'.'"! T^°^i^^ ,«bliterated. Excuse me one moment, Aun[ Louisa, I should like to have a look at my uncle's study." WHAT NEXT ? 79 tTl'XZt%t::it^^^^^^ '• I cannot really; upon.; But he had left the room before she could prevent him She moved to follow him. but reconsidered herseff ^d turnS sticks™'^^^'*'''^' ' " '^^ '^^^' ^"^"^y- ""othing but fiddle. • 1 ^ ^'"*he sufferer," grumbled Lambert ; " I shall be left in the cold. You and Philip take everything " the m^her/ ^^""^ '^'""^^ ^° ""^^^ ^'^^ comfortable," retorted " That may be " answered Lambert, " but it is one thin? to have money of one's own, and another thing to have "o come to one's mammy for every penny, and to find thalthe mammy rarely has any pennies in her purse " h. 1^ l^"" ^ ^^r ^f " pinched in circumstances. It will .L f yf?f ?'''^' b^""^' y°" ^i" see." After a pause The added, •• Unless that meddlesome, vexatious prig Phihn prove an obstruction." ^ ^' i'nuip, Presently Philip returned. " It is as I thought." said he. - The sealing-wax emoloved the second time is that now in the pen tra/oVmy unci's desk ; not only so. but his knife is there also^bearh^ron i? he traces of exposure to fire. It was probabirthruft into :': ::roff^^thteti^"" '^" ' - - -'-^^^ '^ - "e " No doubt about it," said Mrs. Sidebottom; -and this proves that Jeremiah cancelled his will shor^ before hs .1f^*u }• l^''"^^ "^^ ^e surprised if he did it the same niih? that he died, immediately before giving it to Salome ^ ' Nnf ''JIV'-^"'''^^ extraordinary one." said Philip. iNot at all. It IS as clear as day." u^^/^rF.u '"^ "°^ ^^^e to debate the matter with his aunt '° Thl L''h ''°°'"' r^i"^'"^ ^'' h^^' entered^he garden .h. 11^ "^1"' ^' ^^-'^^^y '^'^' descended from the house to he valley. It consisted of two slopes, divided bv a wal he upper slope ended in a terrace walk with the coping of ^^t:!'^?,J^ a parapet to ^it. Access lo tre'K; uppir'of ^T;:^^viZi^ wf^^detoSrUc^^l;^?^ Zt ^x^^::^£:t^::: -- ^---^ again^tetrn 80 THE PENNYCOMEQtJICKS. was u^iTli^fo come'to Th J'""" 1°' ^^™'^' •"'">"«^. ""d matter was as s?^o° L f °" = ^^ '=°''" not see that the argued, why'shourdtis Lde hav! .T""^'"- ''°'' ''^ ^e thi original enveoDe™h)!n,k *^''^" P"""^ '" Preserve for so iing I&o™ 4e h^^ ^^ "S ?fP"™' "^•^"^"y rSrSelf - - ^r alte^X^Hhal ^/fc^ Cerfa^nlv not''sa"lnn^™ ''f" ".""'y '° <=°"""it ^"ch an act ? the w llLd Le„ f; w« h ''i""P'"^' ""'^^^ ^°^^ ^--d key tampered' with'sinciitTas'^^t'e^n ^1'' ^ tL''^'^ ".^f *%hi :'s'aw".h:rhi'\' '^f '°'^' "A"-" ^^i^r^^^f another interview with Salome H.f^ f ""^' ''^^^ house, and meeting a servlrfn t"e hair/r/t'"T''' '° "'^ Miss Cusworth to soealt w^h V, , "^ V ' ?^''^'' ^""^ '° request Without deayTdo™?c''ame' luTlT '" '^e garden, bonnet, but had thrown a lrZ\J^ '' J'"' .?"' °" » pinned it under her ch™ Hkf a^Jm ^'i^' ''^'' "j^f d' .-"d nished hair, lilce autumn Z.I i """l'"' . Some of her bur- sun, shone •omf;otun"d:?Mrshawr™nI Ihe"^^ ^™'""! contrasted pleasantlv With fL J 1-.,',^ *"^ ^'^^y wool now no longer whittb^Jtwlh % n\^ iL's'ofc tu^ZlriT' a sunset sky n which arp HHfJ J^f ^ ot colour in it, hke fined yet sensitive tfthTrayfS tL^dSnin'^tb^'" She"'" flrc?^atrs"o'ftsrn?™trlf"^r r '" "^« f°"owedThi heart. resentment, hum.hation, anger and pain in her had^wrped1erres"tr£:r!''"'P =^«;, '^at-for though she with d,§icuUy rSU'-eVrj^ reTfl^Lr '"^ ™^'^^^' ''"'^ atten,^t':t g'rrustl.^^^^eSattLt^^ ""'/" eTtS. Twr xb 4'''^»HicriTaf b^o-uVd^: elusion which mat ?/„; "J^'gnant, and rushed to a con- tatelv. rshin "7il!rf '°..''_"« ""^^r f°.™ed too precipi- accept my apoiogy,''and'allow"'. f:?A^..^.'^"g'=d..if you wll tions — "' the suhiVrf ^f 7r 1, '''' >°" ^ ^^'"es of ques- tne subject of the will, to enable me to form a WHAT NEXT ? 81 matured opinion as to the manner in which it was cancelled, and by whom it was done ; two points that appear to me at this moment by no means as clear as they did a quarter-of-an- hour ago, because a close examination of the envelope has shewn me that it was opened recently, and in a manner that seems to me suspicious." " I will answer any questions you put— as far as it is in my abihty to answer them." " And— we shall be more at our ease, more in private, if we take the lower walk at the foot of the wall," said Philip, " as from the windows everyone can see us here and comment on our interview. May I ask you to do me the further favour of walking with me below the steps ? " " Certainly," answered Salome, and began to descend. Philip would have been devoid of the elementary faculties by which beauty is perceived and admired, if he had not been struck at this time by the young and graceful figure that pre- ceded him, and by the perfect sweetness of the innocent, sad face that turned at the bottom and looked back at him. She did not reproach him with her eyes, and yet, when he caught them, his own eyes fell, and he became uncomfortable and conscious of having wronged her. She puzzled him. Was she tricky, double, self-seeking ? or was she what she looked — sincere and straightforward ? A consciousness stole over Philip that had he lived in the same house with her for sixteen or seventeen years, as had uncle Jeremiah, and had come to make his will, then without her uttering a word of persuasion, he would be leaving her everything he had— just as Jeremiah had at one time done ; only he would never have worded his will in such a clumsy, absurd, and unusual fashion. As soon as he reached the foot of the steps, he took his place at her side. Here was a broad walk parallel to that above, facing the sun, sheltered, with the trained trees against the wall on one side and a box-edging on the other, with, in summer, a border of herbaceous flowers fringing the beds of cabbage, onions, brussels sprouts and carrots " I am at your service," said Salome. " Then I will begin my catechism at once," said Philip. " Please to give me an exact account of what passed in vour last mterview with Mr. Pennycomequick." " Do you mean actually the last— as he went out for his walk by the canal, or when he gave me the will to keep ? " 52 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. n ,^ 1* " I mean the latter." «.-l^| h'llXr slX^eLf hernZ't^/T; ■'■' Yi''*wh'«n"hf '"'"« "'!*'' ^'^- Sidebottom, I think ?" earlier thin I e"pec,ecr'"Burt'' ""' f ''/-'h" '= to say, "^i'H^l^^si? ^°? ^etra;rfhTt'"::s^^^^^^^ ""<' ^^ "ad anything occurred to disturb him ?" ing mood than I h°J- ^"'.^^^^'^^^'"^y^^^i" ^nioredespond- mg mood than I had seen him in at any time previouslv " " Did he give any reason for it ?" t^viousiy. balome hesitated. ;; What reason did he give for his depressed spirits ?" And ot anyone in particular ?" chin'^^nT^oTll^d^nlrUX^^^^^ ^^"^'^ ''' '''-' '^^^^ ^- tion:^t^SttiSly.^' "°^ '°^^^ ""' to answer that ques- i. nnfX^'^ '^^"'" '^'^ ^!?^^'P' '' °"ly iet "^e Observe that this IS not answering me with the fulness that was promised " I thmk he was un ust-and I had rather that S Phnlli tion of injustice was forgotten " ^ ^^"^^•' " Whither did he go ?" "'llcnseme^'lJT^'- ^"^!!' " moment returned " x:-xcuse me. in a moment ? " Yes, almost directly, returned with the paper." It was in the envelope ?" ^1^1. " Oh, yes, just as I gave it you." envl'^%tr"o°^Vt'4Lruran^^^;eL\rt'r '° °T;^^ coming back to the room wh"!' ,1. .'!://?■. ""^ ^°^" ''^fore mediately""' "' "'"' ""'"''^ ""'' '=™<= ^°^" 'S^^" ™- WHAT NEXT ? 83 I " Now tell me. Are you quite sure that he believed the will was intact when he gave it you ?" " I am sure of it from his manner." " And where did he keep it before he gave it to you ?" •' I do not know." " Had you any previous knowledge of the will and its contents ?" '• None whatever. I have not even heard my mother speak of it ; and she must have known, because she witnessed it. But I am sure also she had no idea as to its contents, or she would have joined with me in entreating him not to make such an unjust disposition of his property. I am glad the will is worthless, because I never could have felt that I had a right to receive all uncle — I mean Mr. Pennycomequick — left me in that will. I should have felt that I was robbing the re- lations, and I would have refused to benefit by the will." " Who is the John Dale who signed as witness along with your mother?" " Mr. Dale ! Oh, he was a dear friend of Mr, Penny- comequick. He always spent his Christmas here, and uncle went at Whitsuntide to spend a few days with him at Brid- lington. Mr. Dale is trustee to Janet. We both like him.' Salome spoke so openly, so quietly, and with such self- possession, that again his suspicions began to yield to the charm of her honesty, as they had before. *' One matter further," said Philip. " After Mr. Penny- comequick had given you the will, you locked it up in — I remember you said — a workbox." " Yes, in my workbox." " And the workbox — was that put away anywhere ? " " Oh, no, I use it every day." " Then — the same box is unlocked very often ? " " Yes." " And left unlocked ? " Salome hesitated a moment, then said, " Yes — but it is in my room. No one would meddle with my things — no one has any interest in my little odds and ends. Besides, no one would be so mean." Then, after a pause, " Mr. Pennycome- quick, you charged me with a piece of baseness which " — she shook her head imnatientlv^ as if to shake off the imnutation " which it is a stain on me to think as possible. I could not — 1 would die rather than do what is mean. Mean ! " She turned her face suddenly round on him ; it was flushed, and m 84 THE PENNYCOM£QUICKS. 1:1 ^^^ But how do you account for tL signatu're big torn of tL^tr/ou hSne me ■• ''"'"'' " ="'^^- ' "'°"^''' -'V argued aloud. '^ ^^ '"'' "*' «°° '•«™t." Philip said' Ltme ^=^.^1 '"=°P'! ""'"'' J" °' '^^^ "'^ "-'«." cerned hor^hfw 'wi "vaTd"ated '". °' "'°"|'«' ,«"'« ~n- soUcitude for the meS; of the d'e^^^-d ^^^^ ^"^^^ *"' speakably kind to mv mnthJ- 5 ■ ""^ ''"'^ '"^^n "i- one would taSf, aU wouW lav he h7 h"'"' """^ ""• ^^^y that will had stood Over Ls^?aveX»""^"''''"'iP°''"S was buried to-dav-hiV m.o„i grave—that was not he who burnings wouU haTe ' r.-" '^}^"''"'' '' ™«y be, heart- have bSen casafh™ memor'vl "■^''''T''?'' ^"^"^^ """'d queer mood wh'e'n he wan^; qui eTmsdf "' Se' '" '°'"? must say t, quite valued Mrc ciJi i .. * ^^ never, I was iil-pleased when she 5tY^^^^ f'.^ ^^^*«^' ^"d he The captain, L thought hJl. ^""^ 'u "u^^ ^^ Mergatroyd. prudent aboiLnevYoifh^H h'""^ ^'^'"^ ^"^ ^^^ im- mistaken prejud^?" a^^ains? 1«^ "* "S* ^'i°^' ^"^ ^« ^ad a wa« mpHe^fT. !S„i^^'"'/ ^.^^y«"-. But there-how the will ters litFfeythe dee^^s donr'/;fl ""^ ^•^«^^^' o^~or. how, mat-" wronged his own flesh and Mood '^ °"' ''" ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ WHAT NEXT ? 85 She had spoken quickly, eagerly, without pause, and with a heightened colour. A sudden idea came into Philip's mind with a flash. " You— Miss Cusworth ! For the sake of his memory, did you meddle with the will ? " This was a repetition of the charge. First, he charged her with coarse self-seeking, now with blind, self-eftacement. " I — I— Oh ! Mr. Pennycomequick, of course not. It was a trust. I could not touch it, even to save his dear name from reproach." " Miss Cusworth," said Philip, " have you any objection to my seeing your mother ? " "Not in the least. Only remember she is frail. She suffers from her heart." " Will you take me to her at once ? " •• Certainly. Follow me." She led Philip up the steps, through the upper garden. Phihp s eyes, which had watched her descend the steps with admiration, saw her mount them with even greater. She con- ducted him to the room occupied by her mother as a parlour. The old lady was in black, and was dusting. That was her daily occupation. She travelled about the house with a duster in her pocket, and when the duster became dirty she took her pocket handkerchief and dusted with that ; and it was also black. She had been an energetic woman in her youth, and now that she suffered from her heart, was impa- tient at not being allowed to do as much as she had been wont. She had made an excellent housekeeper to Mr. Penny- comequick. When he was short of domestics she turned her hand to anything— cooked, did housework, needlework- would have cleaned the knives and boots if the boy had failed. The deficiency in servants was not an extraordinary event. In a manufacturing district few girls care to enter domestic service and submit to its restraints, when they can earn their livelihood at the mills, and have the evenings to themselves in which to meet their friends. When Mr. Pennycomequick's establishment was complete, she spent her day in making up for the deficiencies of the domestics— put- ting straight^ what they crooked, cleaning out corners they ijavj negxectcd, brushing down cobwebs lliey had overlooked, detecting breakages they had made, and repairing rents they had effected in household linen. She was not a good looking woman, but the likeness of the two girls to her was traceable ; I I ft I ft i 86 THE PENNY(70MEQUICKS. H f m of not ha^^^tTd "h"^ '° ''''•™'"P ^t" '"'"^'^''at ashamed to hlr ,^lr' ^'l^ '"'*'', ''«"8"at.on at the discourtesy shewn mother bide' 'h^r' ""''"1'° "^l'^ ^''- Sidebottom?bu, her auttW'ta tt TeTn'd'he^d'aurhretst.'af„^drt.i: house upon sufferance only "K'^ers remained m the lamdy '£ n7htrn. T.7'",f f".^ • ^P°'°«'^^'^ ^"""^^h-' anri fL . .saving made the lady's acquaintance earlier arm S^ha't" of'I'rllL'r^'Th ^'"V "' ^'S -- wUh'j,"; cS t''^^^ V^^^^^^^ -'--ood .ha. ceeded a. once .o cross-question her on .he subjec. o7the n^a^e^e^qZ^LTpreslTm^'/orhfv'eLt' LZ^T' '" fotnt rc"eU:d"''arnV" f " "^ r] d-gh.e^h'as^ Zl ^^ Were you aware of the contents ? " M,ss Cusworlb'tirhdress" ""'""^ ''' '""="*'' '° '=°"^"""« " Not the least. I supposed he would leave her some- ADMINISTRATION. 87 thing as he had dealt so liberally by my other daughter at her marriage ; I neither wished for nor expected more ; certainly for nothmg which might cause annoyance to the family." " He never alluded to his intention ? " " Never. He was a reserved man." •• And you have no reason to suppose he made another will subsequent to that ? " " I know nothing. I was not called in to witness another." •* Thank you," said Philip, rising. " The mystery is to me as dark now as before, only,"— and this he said to himself — " the one explanation I gave at first is, I am now con- vinced, certainly the wrong one." CHAPTER XIV. to ADMINISTRATION. PHILIP Pennycomequick returned to the garden. He was still greatly perplexed, but a new and disquieting suspicion had invaded his mind. He was now completely satisfied that no undue influence had been used to force the old man to make his extraordinary will. He was also toler- ably certain that he handed it to Salome in good faith, believ- mg it to be untouched. The will had been tampered with either just before or after his death. It was hardly possible that this could have been done before, when preserved, as he little doubted, in the iron chest in which Jeremiah kept all his deeds and papers of value. It was more probable that the mutilation had been effected afterwards, when carelessly kept in Salome's work-box, which probably had a lock easily fitted with a key, and which was sometimes incautiously left unlocked when Salome was not in her room. But who would be likely to do such an act, commit a felony ? He dared not accuse his aunt ; even in thought such an accusation was too terrible. He had no confidence in her rectitude. His mistrust of her truthfulness had been deepened by her audacious assertion that Jeremiah had worn «. ii._, -„. „..^ ..„<,! feirv.i= mm, a siatciuciii wnicn ne was convinced was untrue, and one made by her to get over the difficulty about the linen of the drowned man differing from that known to have belonged to her brother. a8 THE PtNNVCOMEQUK KS. i th.f"^''°"J'l"f disguise f- om himself that, on the supposition in explaining the mystery <hsappeared. She had heard li )m Salome where the will was-ii. her desk and in her r oni U was to Mrs Sidebottom's interest to know its contents and to in va hdate it when she did Know them. BuPhnip though be tui Itv 0^."* r ^°" 'f '^"' ^"^^^ ^-^^y thinicThe could dfffilnl/? Ti ^". 'redness. lUt Mow else explain the vcSt^hL?^ r/.^^'"''"F^T^^ ^'' --^^^^h^d moral con viction that she had tampered with the document what conr^o could he pursue ? He had absolutely no e^iden^e to Sv a public accusation, and without very strong and conclusive evidence he could not make such a charge-fchar^rof felon v against his own aunt. ^"arge oi leiony restS^he found tlrl 'uf .r^"^' "" ^'^'^^ ^'^ «"«P''cion rested he tound how slight they were. The facts were th . Mrs <idebottom knew where the will was, that she was Yn the house, and had opportunities of obtaming access To the will, and that it was to her interest to destroy i?s force H^ crime"' nirbell^f *'"h' ''^ ^""* --^^ capable orsuch"a' crime. His belief m her veracity was shaken hnf if ,o ^ i way between telhng a lie and c'Lrr^itting ^^ crlV uci a! \}i^i!^^^ half-inclined to attribute to her With his mind still unsatisfied he went to the sti.dv where he knew he would find her. Captain Lamber" had gonro^it The captam had borne the restraint imposed on h. n bv the death of his uncle with impatience. He^had been preve^n ed from playing his usual ga.ae of billiards. He had vawnedin nj:^ "^hfi^ha/^^ :f >:'^ "^"^^^ ^^^^ ^s t^ri^'hS J u...h^. ts, tnen had shifted his position to the fire and «;tonr1 betore that with his hands behind him, and found neXr pcmon to his taste. In the afternoon he had ounid be tween the two houses, and had sauntered in the gardfn and grumbled and yawned continually. In the evening ;hen alone after dinner, in his frogged smoking-jacket anTflippers lounging in an arm-chair, he read a little and when pE was there talked with him. But nothing Satisfied hL he Fteld he found " awfully dull ! - his cousin '' awfully Z^v'- and he pronounced as his criticism of every nove L rUnnl^ into that it was " awful trash ! " ^ ^ "^'^^^^ Phihp and Lambert had nn int«r/.cf„ ; Lambert had no interests a", alirPhm; wa's";e;erv;d°'^r bert open.wtth the difference that exists'^bXeen a pu^se ^"d ADMINISTRATION. 89 a glove. Philip had much in him whicii was not for all the world, Lambert had nothing in him what-ver. Lambert was ea v-going, selfish and good-natured in what did not touch his owi -omfort and ease. He had little con- versation, and wh;t nad was uninteresting. We come cxcross people contm ily who have to be d- edged that any- thing may be got o t of them, and when dredged, yield nothing to compensate the labour of ('redging. In some rivers it is worth while to try the depths with rakes and grapples, or even by diving, for on examination they yield gold-dust, diamonds and pearls. But out of others nothing is extracted save pots, weedb, he waste matter and sewage of civilization. When Lsmbert was dredged he gave up worth- less stuff, scraps of stale news, old jokes worn to pieces, venerable conundrun s that had lost their point, and familiar anecdotes r. f without salt. Undredged, he yielded nothing, excep .ong those ot his own mental calibre, and with them he Ked about people he had met, houses at which he had \ .ited, wines that he had drunk, game that he had shot, the relationships of his acquaintance, about jolly fellows, nice girls, good cigars, and scrumptious dinners. He was a harmless, lazy man who would not wilfully do what was wrong, and would never exert himself to do what was right. There are tens of thousands of these negative beings about, male and female, useful in their way, as nitrogen is of use in the atmosphere, void of quality itself, but diluting the active oxygen; as certain ingredients are serviceable as fluxes to valuable metals, but have no othci known use in creation. Lambert's mother had energy for both, and managed for herself and for him. He was well content that it should be so, it saved him trouble. He left her to decide everything for him, as he left his clothes to be brushed and folded and put away by the servant. And as he was a man without a pur- suit, he voted everything he had to do a bore, and was voted by everyone who knew him the worst of bores. ''Well, Philip," said Mrs. Sidebottom, cheerily, as her nephe" entered ; she was engaged in looking through a list of des.gns for mourning dresses. •• Well, Philip, I am knocked s,. j.^.^co \txIxi iHc Biiaisi, aiju uin giau ail is over, l nope you have had a satisfactory interview with that girl, brought her to a humble frame of mind, and induced her to confess that she and her mother concocted that abominable will ? " MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ ■ 16 1^3 2.8 3.2 m 14.0 II 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IM/IGE inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 USA (716) 482 -0300 -Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fox 90 THE PENNYCOMEQFICKS. On the contrary," answered Philip, gravely, «'I am satisfied from what she and Mrs. Cusworth have told me that they had nothing to do with it. Not only was no undue pressure brought to bear on my uncle, but they were com- pletely Ignorant of the contents of his testament." " Fiddle-faddle," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " I don't give them credit for being such fools. They had Jeremiah in their hands for many years. He made that will in their favour, at their suggestion ; only when I came here did his conscience a^TkesUff."" ^^ cancelled it. The case is as plain as ^^^- You wrong her-her mother," said Philip, with some " You— yourself," retorted Mrs. Sidebottom, -accused ner ot having employed unfair means to procure the will. I am only repeating what you said." " I did so. I was hasty. I now regard both Mrs. and Miss Cusworth as incapable of such conduct." ^ocJi "^^7 'j"'''^^*. f weather-cock you are ! You men are easily talked round by women. A cow has horns, a horse has hoofs, and a dog teeth, for self-protection ; but a woman has on y her tongue, which she can use skilfully-far more skil- lully than the brutes use their weapons. Why, Philip there are insects that accommodate themselves in colour and ap- pearance to the ground tney are on, or the tree or leaf they are destroying, so as to escape detection ; and you would have this precious Salome less clever than an insect ? She has assumed the colour necessary for imposing on your eves " Philip wmced. . He had changed his mind twice with re- spect to Salome, and both times in consequence of an inter- view with her. ■' I have a proposal to make," he said ; " but before making It, 1 must lay the case before you plainly," '' I desire nothing better, but I wish Lamb were here also." 1 wish first to discuss it with you alone, after that we can take Lambert into conference." " I am all attention." " In the first place, I take it that my uncle made the will without having been subject to any direct pressure. Indirect there was, but that was also iinconsciQus. The children had grown up in his house, he had become warmly a'ttachedlo them and when one was married, he provided for her." " Most unbecomingly and unnecessarily." ADMINISTRATION. 91 '• He did as he thought fit. The money vvas his own — his savings ; and he had a perfect right to dispose ot it as he con- sidered proper. In full possession of his faculties, more than a twelvemonth ago he raade a marriage settlement of a large sum on one of the young ladies, and then, as she was provided for, he made his will, providing for the «= ster. Miss Salome had been as a daughter to him, he lovec . er not less than he did Miss Janet, and certainly had no intention that she should be left destitute when he was removed." " I grant you all that," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " He might have left her an annuity of fifty or a hundred pounds. That would have sufficed. But why leave her everything.? B A there — what is the good of discussing a document which is of no legal force ?" " Allow me to proceed. Whether he acted rightly or wrongly is a question I will not enter into. What he did was what he had proposed in his heart to do, to provide for Miss Salome, and to leave to .'.ambert and me only small annuities. He did not bequeath the factory to Lambert, whom he very well knew was not calculated to manage a business, and he did not leave it to me, because he knew nothing about my capabilities and character. I think it is by no means im- probable that there is something else behind. Miss Cusworth may be engaged to a suitable person, whom uncle Jeremiah approved as one likely to carry on the business and not throw it away. I conceive that the will may have been prompted quite as much by concern for an old-estabhshed and respected business as by regard for the young girl. He may have cal- culated on the marriage, but not have cared to allude to it at an early stage of the engagement. This is merely a conjecture of mine, and I have no knowledge of anything to substantiate it. You must take it for what it is worth." " Oh, that is likely enough, but as the will is cancelled, why harp upon it ?" was the mind of my uncle when he two words, he desired that the firm and that his adopted daughter should " Such I imagme framed that will. In should be carried on, be provided tor." " I allow all that." " Now the will has beer invalidated in a mysterious manner by the signature being torn away. By whom that was done is not known to us, but I do not allow it is at all conclusive that uncle Jeremiah did it himself." 41 92 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. < 1 i rovd fnH n ^^ ^'^ '*• ^^ ^^^ ^* because I was in Mergat- lll' A^^^ ^^"^ '^^"'^ *° ^^l"e n^«- Besides, Lambert had changed his name ; he had ceased to be a SidebStom and me H: wls'mrXr^J^^'S"- l"^^^^' het^d as much to phmenthe^r^okfo'heL?!^"'' '' ^'^ ^'^"^^' ^* ^^ ^ --' and^&e ^'Zr^"^- "^' ^""' ^"^ recollections of things said fheones * ''""" '" ^"'>^ conveniently to support her "My impression is," said Philip, "that the will wa«; nnf torn by rny uncle, but by someone else." ^^' "^^ And pray " said Mrs. Sidebottom, tossing he- head and moving uneasily in her seat, •• do you suspect a^nyone ? '' evidencTtor^c^^^' '^ '^'' '^^^^^ "^ '^^ noi^ighVwithout «n il?''^'^ f acious me!" laughed Mrs Sidebottom. " What an imagination you are endowed with, Philip - F^^st it leads SrL'ction'of tr ''?, "'°jf e°^>- '' ^he^oncocd^n^'n'd Cusworth fhi "^'vi,/""^ *^" y^" P°"^ <^»t on Salome p'^r.K 1 / ^"^ y°" withdraw the charge, and you concede aZ^I^V^^u^^^"^""* b^t^ee" this young mhix and an thfbu'ness^^^^^^^^^ 'S "^"^^^ 'h^ miirandXon fraud hi"1f J K °''' y°" ^^^^ ^" i^ea of some oufag^ous ofThl faTy^.'^^" ^°"^"^'"^^- Save us from such vaf^rTe^ vHpd'^ ^''\^l^" mutilated-she is now fefrwhX Xro to assure to Miss Cusworth a provision at lpa<:f *.n.?oi • amount to that made for her sisteV. ° ^"^"^^ '" " I— I do not understand." '' What I say is plain enough. We who su e thp nrr^ per y of my uncle must deduct from our Thares in oaual Dm' portions such sum as will, when invested, bd^g in for^thl so?e benefit of Miss Cusworth the modest sum of f hundred and fifty pounds per annum." " " oi a nundred and " T'Ji t^h^'^'^A t""^ ^^y fiddlesticks ! " said Mrs. Sidebottom ' 1 11 be hanged before I agree to that ' " -^'"eDoiiom. tion'? " "^"""^ ^^tent then do you propose to meet my sugges- " Not at all. I will not consent to give her a farthing ! " ADMINISTRATION. 93 " You decline to carry out the wishes of your brother ? " *' I dispute that they were his wishes — at one time maybe, before I arrived at Mergatroyd. After that he changed his mind altogether, and in evidence — he cancelled his will." " I am by no means prepared to allov^ that that was his doing." " A hundred and fifty pounds ! Why, at four per cent, that would be nearly four thousand pounds. I would rathei throw my money into the sea, or give it to a hospital." " I repeat. It was the purpose of the testator to provide for Miss Cusworth. He had not altered his purpose on the night that he died, for he handed her the will to keep in such £ manner " " According to her own account," interjected Mrs. Side- bottom. " As showed that he believed the will was untouched. Eithei before that, or after — I cannot say when or by whom — the act had been committed which destroyed the value of the will. But uncle Jeremiah to the last intended that the young lady should be provided for." " I will consent to nothing." " Very well," said Philip, " a;, you cannot ag-ee to my proposal, no other course is left me than to enter a caveat against your taking out an administration." " What good will that do ? " " It will do no good to anyone — to you least of all ; I shall state my grounds before the Court— that I believe the will of my uncle, which I shall present, has been fraudulently dealt with by some person or persons unknown, and I shall endea- vour to get it recognized, although it lacks his signature." " What ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom, turning all colours of mottled soap. " Throw away your chance of eettiner half!" 5 6 " Yes — because I will not be unjust." Mrs. Sidebottom was silent. She was considering. Her fidgets showed that she was alarmed. •* You will be able to effect nothing," she said. *' The Court would say that Jeremiah acted improperly when he left his property away from his family, and that he did right in cancelling the wilL" " Anyhow, I shall contest the grant of letters of adminis- tration." " What a chivalrous knight that girl has found in \, r," 94 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. a^trleeTSofett: ■■°"'- " ^°" ''='.<' l^^"- 'hrow yourself Philip made no answer. Phihp remained unmovpd Ho i • about a„timaccassars:rery1og"in';ir '"' "^^ '^"''"S a. hf/^o^'pot^r '°°''^'' '"''™'y ^' "--She was irritated headr'W'dT/Lre"xj:'ct'th,s''rnh"'' ""V '"^ "^ "- . conduct in you, Philip/^'^ inhuman and unreasonable No; kfu?,°u''rn'',o''an'otrer'';o„'^^^' "■ ^^"'^'^ ''^'--n us. not be stopped, the busines musf h^"""-. 7^' ""' ">"« suppose that Lambert cares tn^"f be carried on. I do not ■' Certamly n5 " "^"^ '"'° commercial life." ••^hat'lh^X"'"'"'" "'"" "f^ '" Mergatroyd." fact;ryrTtSpSo*°al^"t;rso:,*'^ management of the come to between us. As soon as llTl ^.'•""^^ment has been we shall consider the divfs"™ of h^ ^«"l'"""'5'i°" '^ S""'<=<i. from our several shares fh=f *''^«state, and deduct equallv to offer to Miss Cuswrrth .■ "" " "''"'='' "^ "'^^ ■•=«>l™d " WaT ?hi5'l™"'*'"°"? '° «'hich you have agreed " i. onSwf^LtX'u^rm'e'.. "P''°^«- ™- 'w^' clear She started from her seat and left the room. THE WOMAN WITH A PIPE. 95 CHAPTER XV. THE WOMAN WITH A PIPE. WHAT had become in the meantime of Mr. Jeremiah Pennycomequick, over whose leavings such a dispute was being waged ? We left him clinging to the head of a Lombardy poplar that was being sw ^ down the valley of the Keld by the flood. ^ The head of a poplar was by no means the most agreeable sort of vessel m which to shoot the rapids of Fleet lock and navigate the lower Keld-dale. In the first place it allowed the wash of the descending current to overflow it, and in the next It had no proper balance, and was disposed' to revolve like a turbine in the stream. This latter propensity was pre- sently counteracted by the branches catching and entangling about some ponderous matter in the bed, perhaps a chain from the locks. It was not possible for Mr. Pennvcomequick to keep dry. He was like Moses in the cradle of bulrushes, Irom which the pitch calking had been omitted. He was completely drenched, because submerged, except his head and shoulders, chilled, numb, and giddy. The tree made a plunge over the lock edge, where the stream formed a cataract, carried him under water, and came up again with him still among the branches. He had seen \xfu crumble into the stream before he made his dive. When the water cleared out of his eyes, and he looked again, could see it no more. He threw himself on his back, with his arms interlaced among the pliant boughs, and his face towards the night sky. He saw the clouds like curd, and the moon glaring pitilessly down on him in his distress, showing him a wide field of water on all sides and help nowhere. He was too cold to cry out ; he knew that it would be useless to do so. Succour was out of reach. Lying cradled among the branches, elastic as those of W;illnU7 hn iiroc foof no ,V a ~-^J- . 1 1J_J .1 - •—-.., -1.. T,».„ luoi U.O lU a nci , ucuucu among tne twigs, he might let go his hold and would be carried on. He looked up steadily at the moon, and wondered how long it would be before his eyes stiffened and he saw the things of creation no longer. He could distinguish the shadows in the 96 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. moon and make out the darkened portion of the disc. How cold and cheerless it must be yonder ! A life of numbness and lack of volition and impulse must be the lot of the Selen- ites ! Fear of death, anxiety for himself had disappeared • only a sort of curiosity remained in his brain to Know whether the condition of life m the moon was more miserable in its chill and helplessness than his present state of drifting in the cold water. Then he turned his head to take a last look at Mergatroyd. The lights were twinkling there. He could distinguish those of his own house on the hill-slope. He would never again set loot within Its doors, enjoy the comfort of his fireside ; never see ^alome again. And then in that odd, incongruous manner in which droll thoughts rise up in the mind at the most inappro- priate moments, it occurred to him that there was to be an- chovy-toast for breakfast. He had been asked by Mrs. Cus- worth if he hked it, and she had promised it him. And as he drifted, immersed in the deadeningly cold brown water, at the thought the taste of anchovy came into his mouth. The valley of the Keld contracted— a spur of hill ran for- ward from the ridge on which Mergatroyd was built, and torced ihe river and canal to describe a semi-circular bend. ihe line, however, had bored itself a way through the hill and came out beyond, in a park, among stately but blackened elms. The spur contracted the volume of the flood, which therefore became deeper and more rapid. With his numbed hands Mr. Pennycomequick unloosed his white neckcloth, and with it bound his arm to a branch u ,! W^^'"' ty^"& the knot with one hand and his teeth, whilst the water ran through his mouth over his tongue, and washed away from it the smack of anchovy that fancy had conjured to it. j j ^ Then he resigned himself to his lot. A dull sense of being in the power of an inexorable fate came over him, the eager ness tor lite had faded away, and was succeeded by indiffer- ence as to what befell him, this to make way, as the cold and misery intensified, for impatience that all might be over speedily He still looked up at the moon, but no longer cared what the hfe of the Selenites was like, it was their con- ^.ern, no. hiis. ihe thought of anchovy toast no longer had power to bring its flavour to his tongue. Then th? moon passed behind a drift of vapour that obscured but did not extinguish it, and Jeremiah, half-unconsciously with his stiffen- THE WOMAN WITH A PIPE. 97 ing lips, found himself murmuring the words of Milton which he had learned at school, and had not repeated since : — " The wandering moon Riding near her highest noon, Like one that hath been led astray Thro' the heav'ns' wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bow'd. Stooping thro' a fleecy cloud." And so murmuring again, and more brokenly, at last fell into complete unconsciousness. The critic who generally hits on those particulars in a story which are facts, to declare them to be impossibilities, and those characters to be unnatural, which are transcripts from nature, is certain to attack the author for making a man who trembles on the confines of death think of anchovy toast and quote // Pemeroso ; to which criticism we answer that he has had no experience such as that described, or he would know that what has been described above is in accordance with nature. For how long Mr. Pennycomequick was unconscious he never knew, and no one, of course, was able to inform him. When he returned to himself, he found that he was lying in a contracted and queer bed, in the side of a chamber equally contracted and queer, tenanted, as far as he could make out, only by a contracted and queer human being, whose sex was not to be determined at first glance. If Mr. Pennycomequick had recovered his sense of smell at the same time that he recovered his other senses, he would have supposed that durmg the period of unconsciousness he had been steeped in creosote, for the atmosphere about him was charged with the odour of tar. He was, in fact, on board a coal-barge, in the little low cabm, and in the little low berth that c-cupied almost an entire side of the cabin. This cabin was /;t five feet high ; It was lighted by the hatchway, through which the steps des- cended into it. At the extremity, opposite the hatch, was an iron stove, the pipe from which poked through the deck above. At this stove was done all the cooking ever done in this pstahli<;hrnf>n<- ctnA oil fUo -.^r^r^u:^^ 1 i_ k necessary in it, as a concession to public prejudice. On the side opposite Mr. Pennycomequick's berth was another, on which were heaped gowns, coats, wading-boots, a frying-pan, a bird-cage, a broken jug, Tom Treddlehoyle's " Bairnsley- i !| 98 THE PENN VCOMEQUirKS. |! \ .') frying-pan bird caA h"T ' i '^" ■""= ^°'""^' coats, boots, wieiSerred to^he fl^or '■ " '"«' ''"''""''' ^"'' Bible chu^,::Vtl,vre:ri'„^gri'^?oCb:-;;h^";:i?h it's^ ^'"'■' f^™- of gowns, coats, frying-pan ad Mher artlV "'''"°" weanng a man's black feUwUJelwakea^f;'™/ ' T""":i smoking a mahogany coloured pipe ' '" " '°'"' ^""^ only po^fz^:;^--:-^:?!:^:;^^^^ L'r 'vr^^ h^cXt o-'al'rornVfrr.'l ^"■' f-"-^ CttTbetl e™ trouser^ Benea h them nrir',"'i°r'°'"^"^'"8 '"'^ Turkish man, encasirrsfout bootr ''"'' ''" "^ big as those of a am 'i f "'' "'" ' " «'«=l'''™^d Mr. Pennycomequick. " Where in tifeTabt sTersso'/ir^anlsh """'' ""' ''^"^ "P"^'" in stooping posture ' " """"^ °™"' *° ""■ berth art 7 ^Wh^f for 'su're'^'tha't ?,%' ^ ^^"' '° "^""^ "h«" 'ha' coils ta' Goile." Conquermg Queen, as carries " How came I here ' " Ah sa?thee''flortin'^"hT„^ 'f^^'^ '^'f ^'" °'' "-'- ™y^en. owd tr« La Cso? r i*^ ?,k"''' 'u'« <''^^'') '=''^'^d "ke i' an tha-d been deaV o°L'a^:l"'?i\v'" "' ' J^^^- • " ^"^ ''^^'dnt talk after." *^ ^ "^"^ "^" ^ ^»P ° tea, and we'll he was fttff IraThTL? l""^ !f ™''™-'° "'^« himself-but head ^" J°'"''' ^"^ ""^We to stir more than his fhowt^'lVr-Iin-stlX ' te-^h-i brlijft^ ™°^ Tb' :wt'Th^Ttlk^r£^-^.?Vd' "^ ""^^^^ glad thart better lad ft^ . Z^^*"' """''■ ^ut I'm mebbetha'll til a sup o'Urw'atTr' ''''''' "°^"' ""■ """''' ^^^^l^rZ^S:::^^- '° understand how som'e wr;°bel^^ MerSlr'''H Conquering Queen coal barge Where ^^o.s::^^s^\:^:-^j^^^^ £. THE WOMAN WITH A PIPE. 99 expended. It had snapped the cable that fastened the boat, and she had been carried on down the canal. She had not been lifted and stranded beyond the banks, but had gone along with the current in the proper course. The Conquering Queen was the property of Ann Dewis, who inhabited and managed her, along with a boy, a gawky lad of fifteen, all legs and ar/ns, which became entangled among ropes and chains, and stumbled over lumps of coal and mooring posts, who never descended the ladder without slipping and falling to the bottom in a heap; and whose face and body, if not perpetually begrimed with coal dust, would have shown blue with bruises. Ann Dewis had given up her berth to the man she had drawn out of the water, and slept on the floor beside the clothing, bird-cage, cooking utensils, and literature sacred and profane. "Sure sartin," sai J Mrs. Dewis, " full be a long time wal (iintil) thar t better; and curias it es, but all wor profezied i' 1 om Treddlehoyle i' hes predicshons for 1870. Jest you listen till this. November : Ah look for menny foakes bein' brawt low, throo abaht t' middle ta fend a' f munth ; hahiver, theaze a good prospecht a' ther' sooin lookin' up agean, if it is at they're laid flat a' ther' back. T es fortunate these floods doant come offance (often) or we'd a' be ruinen. Looik here, lad, ah 1 clap f pot o'f stove an' mak thee poultices for thv joints. ^ Six weeks were passed by Mr. Jeremiah Pennycomequick in the cabin of the Conquering Queen, in great pain, some- times in delirium, for he was attacked with rheumatic fever. 1 hroughoiit his illness he was attended indefatigably by Ann Dewis. She called in no doctor, she procured no medicine. Ihe sole remedy she knew and favored, and which she ex- hibited against all diseases, was tar water, a remedy easily made on board the barge, of material always at hand. Ann Dewis was reduced to temporary inactivity by the destruction wrought by the flood. The canal was closed for repairs, and the pairs were likely to consume many months. Accordingly she could no longer ply between the coalpits and the wharf on the Humber. This enforced inactivity enabled her to devote her undivided attention to her patient. She had no house 01 her own— not an acre; no, not a foot of garden ground of her own in any of the various forms of ownership— treehold, copyhold or leasehold. She had no other home than her barge. She paid no taxes— no rates; the only charges 100 TH K PENN Y( OM EgiJlCKS. If hat fell on her were tiie dues levied at the locks. And " Darn It! said Ann; "that flood will ha' sent up the dues Hke scaldm water sends up t'momenter." ^ ^ .She belonged to no parish, came into no census was attached to no denomination, and was identifiable as a Y^rt sh.re woman of the West Riding only b^he bro^ut Wh.n' r/ThUd'"'He //^^'"'f.^ PenUmeq^ncr. I'^&uZtl after his mind had^l '" 'Yu^'''^ powerless to rise, and long He forL^ that 1 n ^l' ^^'"'^ ""''^ ^^^°"^" ^"^' P^i»f»l SforeTe reJ.in JT ^f '^^^^'' P^''^^^'^ '"^"^hS' "^"«t elapse ueiore he regamed his former strength. him c.u'^ ^'^\ J'T- ^°,^"i"se her patient as well as to cure she""W,n."i T/h''' ^f "'*'."="' "°"' but a scratch. .„ k J?' • "'""<=« J "lowt for sartin sure ah'd hev to eive iin to be Dewis, and stick to the Schofield." ^^ "^ hand ot°rh^ 'brow "Jl' P™"y<=°'"«q"-'<, and passed his iidnu over nis brow. His memory was somewhat afft^rt^i^ h?L"d ra^^-t'"""''^^ •" """■ ""''^ '''' not^r^^olle^f wLet some extent modify the broad West Ridi/g brogue ' '° ••Earier"* lang that Earle and I were ac|uainted '• .„„" ^^' ^^'y ■"»" has two names, as he has two lees and ■Zt fi M% ^"'^ '":° ^y^^ *"d <="^- He was Tailed Earle Schofield for sarta.n ; and he used to come and v sU me in I t^dv"r o" l.r^ar';- "i^ "°""=^ ™^= '^^^<'' ^"d hTd left me a tiay bit o brass, for shoo was a saving woman an' «h^^ had been capn, boatswain, steward, and fll to? cinquerine ?mZ 7" ^'a. '"y ^f'"'^ '^'^'J- All fbrass he and sTe had addled (earned) was kip in-but there I wint tell thee not temped^'so'tLere' l"',T." f '"" creetur's, anjtr'ribty H^l^r'a buV aTe'n llan '\e Tor'''''He'd °"^^' 1° ="'^ ,,^••1 u . ,• &'^"''^^"''i"> ne wor. He a niver been in a co^ barge trading up an' down t'canal. We'd a famous scheme atwivf nc Mo , *. ^ .. ., ""= ^^ ^ lamous K,. *' r "V; ~,7 'f^ "«= tu aci up a coil Store an" a hnffic %^i^-d:;;'.t.^i--\tSedVou^\-^5 It If THK WOMAN WITH A HPE. 101 Earle— he wor an uncommon clever hand at accounts, he tigured It a up on a slate, und he showed me how great "ud he ,^ur profits. And he to'd me that it wor the coil marchants as got a fprohts out o' fsale o* coils, and 1 got nobbut their crumbs, as I may say. And he showed me how if he sold and 1 carried coils we'd be rich in no time, and after wed got married then I tow'd him where I kep' t'brar.s. I didn't tell him before— believe me. We were sitting on this deck, drawed up by fside o' t'wharf at Hull, as he showed a' that, and as I tow'd him where I had my brass. Then he took t pipe he wor smoking out o' his mouth and put it into mine, and sed I wor to kip it aleet wall he came back, he'd go an' deposit a hundred pound, he sed, for t'good-will and secure the hofhs at wunce. And I let him take all my brass, for sartain I liiow't as we'd been marr led for three weeks all war right, and what was mine was his. He took t'brass, and he Avent ashore, and t'last words he sed to me wor, 'Ann, keep t pipe aleet wall I retarn.' I waited, but from that day I've niver clapt eyes on him." *' And your money? " " Nor on that noather." " What a great rascal he must have been ! " ''Nay, I won't say that. We're a' sinful creetures, and our temptations is terrible. Wot became o' him I can'na say, but for sure sartin he'd a mind to retarn to me, or he'd not ha tow d me Keep t'pipe aleet. Wha can tell, he may ha' got a drop o liquor on shore, and ha' been robbed, and then ashamed to come back and tell me ; or, he may ha' found t chap none so ready to sell t'good-will— and so ha' gone about looking for summat else and not found it-or he may ha been took by them rampagin' an' roarin' lions, as seek whom they can lock up-the perlicc. Nay ! I'll not condemn him and allow that he wor a rascal, for what sez Tom I reddlehoyle — ' ^?'^ T*"'"^' '^® ^" "^^> ^^2 'ts ups and its daans, An shorter wi'r time keeps windin', An' day after day we are crost i wir way Then speak of a man as yo find him.' " J'S"*tJ ^'^'"^ y°" ^°""^ ^^"^ ^^^^^ yo" l^adly enough," said Mr. Pennvcomequirk. from hie KorfK <» f-^ ..,„ik ^ar ...uu "i n.it, tO wain, uu witn your savings and leave you with nothing." " Nay, not exactly," answered Arn:-. " There wor this pipe for wun, he left ; and," after a pause, " there wer Jozeph. Iffi 102 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. reckon at fifty-Cwtk^ i't "" lu"^'- " "'^ <=""'«>= *« hundred and ten nn?,„,i I u • ' moan's up to nigh on a " And that is hk nil '''' " ^ '"?"'"8 °« °^ '' account." .. S r P'P"^ y°" are smoking ' " back at^t' InH'"."^™- ' '''^ ''"^ '«=^P"« aleet, and if he comes t- pTpe UX^andTs for't' l^' "V^^i ' ^here. Eark"1s interest and pfindpal > •• ^'™""'' ^"^ ^^' ^ ^'=°«d " <>«. :> I CHAPTER XVI. WHO? WHAT? Ff ofd^;vTrt'a1d\renX°?m^';orttT "'^ *"™'-"^ between vataSes Ind ,h „?s thT"'''="£'=' "'^ discrimination things that are notrbut were valuaS:^ th'T' ^''"^'''^' ^"^ rubbish, the consideration n i^ ^ 1 .u- ^ throwmg away of of, and if disposed of how t^°h^''5' "''"Sj ^? '° ^ disposed and ail the Lsiness anj care and''"^'^'^ °'' "f 1° "'"""• quarters. "^ *"d misery of change of blesi "ftu^el'ct: °l°Ltm? r5^ t^ l^rhf""- °"' "^ '-- career did charity the hnnT,f fli .' P'^°''ably, m our whole out such all-enZa ng tendr Is er:,?:uch° "''""''^' "'™" into such fruit as on 1 1 ? .^ fragrance, r pen Old boots, siiglitly daml/ed h'""? °l '''""«'= °f ^"arters. of furniture, for Ihfichf deal ""'"' m'^^ ^^''"''"^ ?'«<=«= articles that would fetch Ln, ^""'"^ "°' « ™ sixpence : books, magazTnes fiye vear^ '?^ '" " =f'^' /""i^'-ated schooK backs, gaies, deficit ro^e°r/,r±ce's''odd:i'°^' '"''' t'cSiri;rrr'^.->"- '5nobs,3^^^^^^^ pansrcorroded wTti; rist ' witt'tt' f"^^'^ '""iblers, sauc'e-' n.ficence we d.str.butrhe-in t\;itt';mXt'clf aTml WHO ? WHAT ? 103 And then— what a lesson does change of quarters teach us, to discriminate between the worthless and the vahiable • and with equanimity to endure separation from things which ^r "^^P^'^e interesting to us, but which we cannot remove. When the author was a boy, his life was spent in travelling on the continent ; in rambles from the Pyrenees to the plains ot Hungary, from the Mediterranean to the Baltic, and wherever he went, he made collections of objects of curiosity, crystals petrefactions, dried flowers, butterflies, medieval armour, books. Before quitting any place of sojourn for a winter, or halt for a night, his father explored every pocket and crevice ^f the carriage, and turned out the treasures there secreted, on which his son's heart were set and his pocket-money had been expended. Nothing escaped his eye, nothing melted his heart. The author came to a place bringing nothing with him, and left It carrying nothing with him away, all he acquired he was torced to leave. It was an excellent discipline for life, and yet hardly attained ; even to this day he finds that he clings to trifles. ^ How many time Ance boyhood has he had to shift quart- ers : and each time he has experienced a struggle, and has had to surrender seme things on which his heart was fixed, but from which it was, perhaps, well to be free. He recalls how one winter at Bayonne, he collected every match and % 1^1 i'^^ ^^"^ ^^^" "'^^ ^""^ ^'g^'^i^g ^i^ars and candles, till he had accumulated a trunk full. When, in Spring the move came, his father peremptorily refused to despatch 'this trunk-load of scorched paper scraps by grnnde or petite vitesse to Vienna, and they were consigned to the flames. When he was in Yorkshire, he had collected some prehistoric querns, stone hand-mills. When he contracted with a furni- ture-mover to translate his goods to the South of England the man struck at the mill-stones, they were not in his bond. Ihe author had to resign them ; but his heart aches for those stones to this day. When a family has inhabited a house for nigh on twenty years it is incredible what accumulations have gathered round them, how every corner, cupboard, closet, drawers, the cellar tiiG attic are stutied with articles of various utility and im- portance, or let us rather say of diff-erent degrees of inutility and worthlessness ; none of which, however, can be spared without a pang, for to every one of them a recollection clings 104 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Si fi Every room, the warden the Tt^iV Pennycomequick. licences, mostly pLasant^o h.' ""T "^'^^^^^ ^'^^ rlmin- soot took the hnlliancTi'J I ordinary eye a thin veil of smoke-laden pfrt of E„^l"^ndh?."r'.?^ "^^ ^^'"^^ i" this Janet, everything was ovfda"d with h '^", fi^^' ^^^^"^^ ^"^ memories. Mrs CuLZThuV^ ^^^ ^""^"^ ^"st of childish a quiet home in which she mthT""' '°/5"^^ '^^ ^ouse as without a care for Vll f f ^r , ^P^"^ ^^^ declining davs provided for"i:d°Lomto"ld'not"be';^'""' '°^ J^"^'-- with the loss of Mr Pennvroml .^^ ^^-gotten. But now, which the future was reared ^n?"w'^'^" ^'?^ ^'^^ ^^^1^" on in bad health, obS to thi"J^Th-^^^^^^ ^''""'^ ^"''^^^ the house in quest^of another h^me ^" ^'''^P^^*^' ^"^ ^^^-- womt^fly';^ot?rp;tetf tl^^ng tfd TaS ^il^ ^^'^^ -- posmon to g,ve the ^w.dow nodt tf remo^^^^ "^ ^^^ n^.h?^an^d"T;t il^f --^S^ Tht^l^ -'^^^ ^ ^- ht-n\^L-,,^rw:r^n{nr^^^^^^^^^^ iiged to engage temp^r'arily^rp^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^.^^^, been o'b-' manufacturing town a hou J FhZ '?.''^^ '" the nearest which was Po%lari;lnowToi^J^^^^^^ low house, surrounded bv t^UflZ^ lu ^°^^' ^t was a well between them into'^wh" 1^^ no Tun ^^7"^^^^ ^t into a which received all dav and nSif^ "'"".^'^ penetrate, but She counted herself fortunatelrh."""'' °^ condensed ^oot. had already given orderrfnr fL ""'"^^ f ^"'^^ this, and she packing caLf filL7;trt£l'g:odT°''^ *^ '^ °^ ^^^^ ^^ the' tressed^r^hels'sTfrr besf f^L^nd^ Salome, already dis- doubtabouttheidentitvnffhll ^' ^""^ the subsequent bottom had gone oufof^hpr t J^^^ yecovered. Mrs. Side- able, had saifmnatu^edt'hir/ ^ f^^l^"^ ^^^^ uncomfort- irritated Janet to thTver^rS' L"^ 1^^'^,^ ^^^ "^«ther, and obliged to exercise great sdf conf?o?".'^''r ^^ ^^^ ^^^ been of Mrs. Sidebottomr^rscreen her m'.l'' ^'^^^^^^d the sneers ^n. check. She had been painfaiwTff'^!^"^ ^°^d her sister mistrust Philin h.H c^o" P^'"^,""y affected, moreover, bv th. what he had saidrthe" wouid'dealtTo^h """ Y ^PoJogized for Sealed, ^^e felt this blow tttLUVe^aulf^^^^^^^^^^^ WHO ? WHAT ? 105 sciously reposed confidence in Philip ; not that he had given her reason for reliance on him, but that she had felt the need tor son? ,e to whom to look, now that Mr. Jeremiah Penny- conieq* ..z was removed, and she had trusted that he would be honourable and considerate in his conduct, as behoved a rennycomequick. To add to her difficulties, her mother had suddenly and unaccountably had a relapse, was seriously shaken and in no condition to be mov^d. Unaccountably, for the attack had not come on when it might have been expected, on hearing the news of the death of the old manufacturer. She had borne up marvellously under this trial; the bringing the corpse to the house and the funeral had not materially attected her. She had spoken of the necessity she was under u u^J^^ , ^°"^^' '^^^^ sorrow, indeed, but not agitation ; she had taken some interest in the assortment and packing of the family goods ; and then, in the midst of the preparations to depart, had been taken alarmingly ill. When the funeral was over, Mrs. Sidebottom had returned to her own house. All necessity for her remaining in that of her deceased half-brother was gone. Nevertheless she was in and out of the house several times during the day. One evening she had left after nine, having dined there ^ J^u I "®Ph^w» who had moved into his uncle's apartments, \u ^"J°y^^ ^o"^^ of her brother's best wine. At half-past nine the front door was locked and chained, ^yA *,!? ^^!!^^h* '" the hall turned down, but not extinguished. UJd Mr. Pennycomequick had kept early hours, and the servants observed the same routine of meals and work that had been instituted in his time, as they had received no orders to the contrary. Now that Philip had taken possession ot his uncle s apartments on the first floor, and went to the mill at the same hours, and took his meals at the same hours, the house seemed to have relapsed into its old ways, out of which It had been bustled by the advent of Mrs. Sidebottom. uu V ,""y^°"^^^"'^^'^ apartments consisted of a study, with a bedroom opening out of it. The front of the house on the same floor was taken up with a drawing-room, rarely OCCUDied. A fhirH Hr>nr on +h" o-tv,„ i j:_- .j. ■,/ , • / ,, '■ t J ■ "■ ^o-Hic laiiuiijg auiiiittea into the spare bedroom, in which the corpse of the drowned man had lain till the burial. On the ground floor were two rooms, corresponding to those occupied by Mr. Pennycomequick, and these had been [fa ! 106 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. '^■f S. \tZnS:7o:^\Z-%^ outer-served as sitting, under tlie spare bed chZh" ^reakfast-room-tlie lattlr th" ground-floor. Formerit-Wr??'''''"'' l^^ arrangement on had slept on the storTv iV^ .k'^T"'"' ''"'' ^er daugliters Pennycomequick^s suTt? ,nH I ^ dfawing-room and Mr. still ; but of late, ow ng to her mothT' ' T''"""" "^^ ">^r« been transferred to the inner r?. 1"'^!:'".'*^' "^^^ '"'d had formed from the housekeenerl T '7'"^'? ^^'^ ^^" fans- for the old lady, to whomTt wa^"*°-* """P'"S apartment steps; and as it was nl^f?^ • u, 'PJ'"''o"s to ascend many be alone at nighrialome had si "l"' M--^' Cusworth should Smce the arrival of TanS hml P' u" l''" '"""^ ""h her. apartment upsta rs is "h ' r^H IT' l^% ^""^ ■■''"'^"^d «» her have her ma?r,ed d^u^^h'te? wth'het '^^ ^"P^"^^" ^ -^^ "> can explct'to'se?'of''faneT'''shl' "mT' "■"^'' """^^ "^at I husband before long Indl' J^ 7'\ V™ '° r-^'^rn to her pleasure of many ofller vis ts^^n?f '''"'^I '° "™ '° "^^^ 'he I should wish her to sken ^ ' ' "' ^"^ i° "°* ™'"d. Salome, ' "'i'J'^\'"'J ''y -et'mucras°na?" ^' '''' '^ "^^^^ "'='' She':i?g1a'd1har:t S^4?;;r'' •° ^- <=''-'^- -Pstalrs. her of attendance on her morht^T.^'u^'^'' ""ere to relieve lodgings and was enga^^dTn'prckTnf ' ^"^ ™^"' '" -"^^ »' day," s^S Janet!'" d,?ectrT°r^ 1°^ '''""' '° ^Ibo^uf every Prussians. Providence nev' fn? /J'T' "^ *^^ ^°»' °f 'he prevail over culture! and the pren^hl-V'''" ''f'^""^'" ^^ould manners, and such perfect taste th.l™^^ ^'='=°"'P''^hed have seen have no idea how to dr^s "^ ""= °'=™^" '^'dies I ''^'^^^^^^S^:^^:!^'^^ .he Barbarians and becomT'civii^^d' tmse!^ef^".'f^?,i"'"^'^ '"^ -'"- wretched war were th=f 7^ ,■ ..'^ 'he result of this ^njheir clothes SLX^r^^L' Sr^tt"da'n° a^l a. ||tT„ ''m^s! s'iilti-f J P'h*l^r"^"«"' -7^" c°;te: tlTTsk-rUo^l n.-_beL d,v^uyj^^ ^- -stwait. He shall beVrprien^i^y^ 1u te t^^^ !^1'^ J^ WHO ? WHAT ? 107 as sitting- the latter ement on laughters and Mr. ^as there bed had an trans- aartment id many h should vith her. !d to her wish to 3 that I 1 to her ave the Salome, ire, that pstairs. relieve arch of f every of the should alished idies I •arians ulture f this o put n and rrived iader, he, of lit he im to know that Mrs. Sidebottom had, unopposed, sworn to her brother's death, without will, and had taken out letters of administration. Philip did not have his meals with the Cusworth party ; they were served to him apai :. On this evening, after the house was locked up, and the servants had retired to bed, Salome was in her own room ; she had been engaged there for some hours, examining and sorting the house-bills, and destroying such as were not required to be preserved. When this was done, she began to pack her little library in a deal case, first wrapping each volume carefully in newspaper. As she did this she came on a garden manual that Mr. Pennycomequick had given her on her birthday when fifteen. The sight of this book suddenly reminded her of a score of hyacinth bulbs she had put in a dark closet under the stairs, in which to form shoots before they were put in their glasses. The book had advised this as a corrective to the development of leaf at the expense of flower. In this cupboard, which Janet and she as children had named the Pummy closet— a name that had adhered to it ever since— she kept as well sundry garden requisites. Fearful lest she should forget the bulbs if she postponed their removal to another time, and accustomed, on principle, to do at once whatever occurred to her mind as a thing that had to be done, she gently opened her door and lightly des- cended the staircase. The steps were carpeted, so that her foot was noiseless. She had no need of a candle, for the gas, though reduced, still burnt in the hall. She reached the bottom quickly ; she was unwilling to disturb and alarm her mother and so trod noiselessly through the hall to the closet door, beneath the steps Her garden- gloves, some tools in a little box that had been given her by Janet, and the bulbs were there, the latter in a row, showing stout horns. She gathered these bulbs into a chip basket, and took the rest of her possessions in the other hand. Thus en- cumbered, she closed the Pummy closet door with her foot, put down the basket, turned the key, took up the basket and stepped out into the hall with the intention of re-ascending --.e stairs as noiscicssiy as sue huu come down. But before she had reached the foot and had turned the balustrade, she was startled to see a figure on the first land- ing At fiist shock she thought it was Mr. Philip Penny- 108 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. comequick dressed m night It was near it. ""= "our was not now mid- Who was it ? The'i^ht1"omfcfwttt^'-^"'' -'" --^ible tread >^:"?s^ s£! SF-- wM/^- what she held, she could ^ot ha^e !^.Z ^'"f' contracted on to relax her grasp. Thev st?ffe„.H !."";'" ^^11 had she willed She could not cry out her n^^'' "' '^° 'he hands of a COTnse not sti, a step forward' or baZard^^""""^''''- S*"^" °»'d was gone from her. "ackward, all control over her knees When the figure had «. i a black handkerchfercLt ole'r T^'r ?".*''^ ^'^ had bee„- abi'JtT''^''^' '°"e behin°d^Ve eafs"?n'';f =''"?"=hed the aDout the jaws. That wpc o i u ' ^"^ frowzy whiskers moment of act. l^t:_T_^' ^^^ ^^^ could make nnf™ fu ? ■". at her. ...^.^i^^^J^.^ ^^^iZ^^, WHO ? WHAT ? 109 in the same stealthy noiVle« T fi"*' steps, and stole and disappeared through it ^""" '° "''= S^"''!^" door, thelaVrn°lhich^h\'t»/''" '" °^ ""^ well-known overcoat dear, lo'^.tfri^nfa d yef she\new";/" '?.^''"^'^u'° "" "hi' would never have insofred her . .Ti, u''°?i'^ ""' ''^ ^e- He would no. have ^Shlr wi^ho^f ^ :';"rd'"'"^ ''^^^'^- «<> The'ro°d'ru^W°rgyng tSo'-h' "gidity was taken off her. feet, recovered act vify.Lr heart ZZ^T' h/' hands, her fear and her mind rec^o'vered is proper energv °°'' "" "= dooft^aVuX tn''''?^li-^^"T^^^ 'he garden ation, she shut and locked ^1^^^",^°"^ '"'her consider- knocked vehementfy, loudly at Philfn" p'" "P''""' ^"d door. •^' """^y' at i-nnip Pennycomequick's landtg,Tre"afhless.'"' "^= ^"P"^^<^ '» =«« Salome on the was"shaL"gaTd'whitr"^' ■■ "" '''"''■ '^ he saw that she man h"'; wft/yrr-""'"""'' "" '«" ■"«• "-^ you had a " I do not understand." com;\;ryru?stlTy:ris™rdTrom''t1, r^- " -^^ '^'d not wh,ch-_"\he shud^dered 'a Tan f o';^' -."■ ^^'"^-'" room. ' mean irom the spare bed- '' No one has been with me." like athadtr^lTdMrd ^'^ ->^^^^^^^-' ^^^^^ -ci silently. «'inr^wu^"^^^^^'^"oone." PhiHn ^.t ' ^u'^ ^^^ ^^^" someone in the house " nerv^e'stvf.™eiVe^,tr:!:r^^ by your imagination." '^''°"^^^- ^°" have been imposed on iockl|i/~TV?:£^" ^°°r. 1 found it open. I have lust «« n/j in-.^'B"xc went out through it." •'^^ ^^ Did you distinguish who it was ? " uncle WI mean mVp"" '^' ^^'^ ^^^^°°"^' wearing dear Philip agarnfused."""'""^^"^"'^ °— ^^ and fat'"" ;t '! 110 THE PENNYC0MEQUICK8. Of ihoulii? "°fll 1^''^' ^1°*^'"/'" he said, after a moment or mought, "all that remamed, the overcoat inrliiH^H T ordered yesterday to be laid ou n theTpare chai^^^^^^^ I tow your mother to dispose of them as she tCught pTope; wotd-b^el^rv^^^^^^^^^^ '"^- °^ P°- P— 'o wC they 5,n^"r"^"?P°°f,P^^^^" ^<^"^d come at this time of nieht said" Phn?n ^°v"'° "".^ ^i"^^® ''°°"' ^"d reassure ourselves," perhans vou wTn" """ .'*"^u ""^ °™''=°»' 'here, and then, aho,'„ i,,if . •'?' '*• ' ^^"' '"'° the room this evenine Ws hind ot^t! . 7^*- ^"i '^'^ ^"^ 'here then. ' He had ms hand on the door. " You are not afraid to come in with l^JbllZ ^'"efto fincf • ^'^ ""'' "'''"" '° ""P^ 'h^' ^he hea?^ Tr^,^e^t^.t°'anrtre Z-L'::^':. '''' -" "'^ J ' MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINOLV. Ill CHAPTER XVII. MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY. NEXT morning Salome was agreeably surprised to find her mother better, brighter, and without the expression of mmgled alarm and pain that her face had worn for the last two days. She refrained from telling her about the mysteri- ous nocturnal visitor, because it was her invariable practice to spare the old lady everything that might cause her anxiety and provoke a relapse. It could do no good to unnecessarily alarm her, and Salome knew how to refrain from speaking unnecessarily. F^an.mg Before paying her mother her morning visit, Salome made an attempt to get at the bottom of the matter that puzzled her and rendered her uneasy. It was the duty of the house- maid to lock the doors at night. Salome sent for her, and inquired about that which gave admission to the garden Th^ girl protested that she had fastened up as usual? and had not neglected any one of the doors. Notwithstanding this assurance, Salome remained un- shaken in her conviction that the open doorway was duf» to the neglect of the servant. She knew that in the class of domestics, truth is esteemed too precious to be wasted bv telling it, and that the asseveration of a maid charged with misdemeanour is to be read like morning dreams. She did not pursue the matter with the young woman, so as not to in- volve her in fresh falsehoods ; she, herself, remained of the same opinion. ^ On her way across the hall to her mother's room, Salome noticed that the garden door was not only locked, but that the key had been withdrawn from it. This Philip had done last night and he had not replaced it. It now occurred to her that she had omitted taking a step which might, and probably would, have led to the detection of the trespasser The door u aT *^\^fj^^"' but egress from the garden could only be had through the door m the wall of the lower or vegetable u'Cy — ^T' ?~ -^ ^^^"^a. <-"i"ugn wnicn manure was brought, and the man occasionally employed in the garden passed when there employed. As this gate would certainly be locked, the man who had gone out of the house 112 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. before he could scale the wa^f' rl""§''*. ''^™ •>"" "P'"ed or to Philip at the time "• ^""^ ''*<' "°» occurred to her had"^l7h;raCc"'nS,^S he^rf •^"^^ "« ''-«'"- am thankful to say that I am ht» a", ^", ""Provement, " I and oppressed me for some davs L« K f'^ "l" has troubled the idea Of going Se- Cusworth, " I must abandon ''Where? To Redstone?" ^ ly affor'dit.' '' '°"^^ ^^ ^^^-^ -y '"eans. I cannot possib! secured tre"]o?gTngs " ^'^°"'' ^"' ^^^•■*^^^- " ^ have already qua;?r"s^rfnt ^h^^^^n' o^ut'agar.fth'^ '''''' '^ --«- ^ not endure the shift again so ^au?cW*?T "'°"*^^- ^ ^°"^d change." ^^'"' ^° quickly following this dreadful ''Th^s^isTp^g^ surprlTe^rL^'"' W^ K*^^^" '^^'^^ house into whi?h we can go " ^^ ^^^^ "^ other -u;;cornf:k'"fe°^^\^:;f ^^ *^^ -tisans occupy, our cloth." ^^^^ ^^^^ *° cut our coat according to "'i>ToVthr„°i:^^^ru° -f:^« '^^''--•• make both ends meet we shal7hrverpinch' ""'"'""''• '^'^ on rr^C^^^C^Z^}^- we had enough loss."' ™^^ "■=''"'»• I have had a^eat and unexpected ;; Loss, mamma ! What loss?" disapi=e7r"i' at „°^ sf^f oTaHtd' ■"-" => ^^ had miscalculated my resources '> '^ supposed. I •;Have you only jus. discovered what your means really " Vou must nnf ov^.f„ u„_ 7t . . _ are ■-'^'^^r^is:^t^^^^^ am MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY. 113 SO surprised so puzzled-and this is such an upset of our plans at the last moment, after I had engaged the lodgings- .trT r ^^^^^- 1° ^^!P^ ^^^^"* •^•" ^he paused, con- lurZh ^ f •^^^•t^^ flush in her face. •• Mamma, you surely had not reckoned on poor uncle's will ? " ..vi?'"; i'^"^'^'''*^ hesitated, then said, "Of course it is a severe blow to me that no provision had been made for you and me We might fairly have reckoned on receiving some- favourite/' "^^^ "^""^ ^°'* J^"^*' ^"^ y^" ^^^^ ^"« " Oh, mamma, you did not count on this ? " •' Remember that you are left absolutely destitute. What nn/hiL r^ '^''^'^ "^'^ ^^'''^^>' ""PP°^* "^ b°th. Janet can do nothing for us just now. ;' Because of the Prussians," said Mrs. Baynes. - Wait a bit ; as soon as we have swept them from the face of fair 1^ ranee, I shall make you both come to me at Elbceuf " verv wTr.;" '^'1 ^^^''T' " ^ ^"^ '*'^^ P"^^^^^- You knew very well that uncle s will was worthless when you let me make arrangements for Redstone, and now that I have told me-!!!-'"^ ^"^ ^°" ^""''^ °''^' "'^ P^^"^- ^^ yo" had " Thanrto .r' ul r"- ^ f ^ "^^ ^"°^'" «^'^ ^^e widow. 1 hat IS to say, had I misreckoned my means." " Ihen there is no help for it. I must try to get out of the agreement for Redstone, if I can. I am afraid the agent will not let me off. We shall have to pay double rent!?nd the year." ""^ underletting Redstone at this ti^e of "Better pay double rent than have to make a double removal ; it will be less expense in the end." "Perhaps so" answered Salome; then she left her 7hTJlZ' '""T *^^V'^^ ""i^^^ ^° "PS^^irs ^"d think over his extraordinary change of plans. She was painfully aware that she had been treated without due consideration, sub- jected unnecessarily to much trouble and annoyance. In the hall she saw Mr. Philip Pennycomequick. He beckoned to her to follow him to the garden door, and she obeyed. Heunlocked the door. see my "reason;-^ " ""'' "'' "'^"'' "^ '^'^' " ^"^ "°^ y°" He pointed to the turf. A slight fall of snow, that comminuted snow that is like 114 THE PBNNVCOMKQtJicKS. meal, had taken place at o.„ i -"'h with a fine film of IhUe'^fir'.'";' " '"^ ^"''""i <l>o "d/'WI. plane dun„s the „§« "" "' ''"^'- No further fall ;.. rdo::';:r ':;s^ha;xral°:L?o^r'■'^ -^'- «ard^.. !>'""• access to the vegetable walkinrw/de'o?'',nne^n T'^' H""' f""""") "- track -»ch step, an.- the 'track led let f*;- A '""'P""' -arS garden to the du>,r in th , wall at ,1^'""""^' ''''^" ">e lower », doubtless passed, as. "re were "no" '°"'' 'V°"«'' ^^^ fh* door was locked. "° ^'ffns of a scramble ••to"'o^^1,^-"-''«'Pw%. bunch and my motherTas'l se"co °d" ■■''^- P™"ycomequicks which .hTm1L%rpe^i;t';^'''P-,:' Outside is a path alonf and have tram.lled'outairtfe traces o7°"'"« *" '^^'^ -"k tor. The prints are those o{„Zt^^r °"' "mysterious visi ■rapression tells me tha°.'' ""^'"^ ''"'^- The shape of the Jte/^'^Ved to the house. said Philip '^'^,7^;'„'"f'f-' -nvinces me of one thin. •■ h.m__to ™me_an_d^choose fo^hileifi!!^'"'"''"""". allowed Som^p^Sg't^ptdnJf oo" '""^ "'^^ '" ">^ wall aiar nothing worth taking i^hf LT"' ™"''"'^'' '". and finding to the house, where he 4, f«"l'"' P"^="ed his explorat^^f door open, through which he effecteHv"""^'' '" ^"^ anothe? himself to what he first laid hands o„ '"^^f'-'ance and helped more had he not been disturbed t ™u "' "°"''' ^'^' '^k«" „ S^ «"»^ "ot disturbed by me " ^ take. the-aTa^rLITcr^rr I^^ ^'^ ^'^^ » "-e " ". ^"'" '*"y ^'"^^ gardener. •• ^^^penaent persons, the The gardener has not been working for some weeks.- i I MISFORTUNES NEVKR COME SINGLY. 115 '* Then how this has occurred concerns me less than the prevention of a recurrence," saic' . nilip, •* I must have a responsible perse in the house. *r 3 I see your mother ?" As he asked, he entered the hail, and Janet at the same mvjment came out of her mother's sittinj^-room with a beam- ing face. Shr slightly bowed to Phihp, and said eagerly to her sister, " Sale ne, the p«. tman is coming down the road. I am sure he brings me good news. I am going to the door to meet him." Salone admitted Philip into the sitting-room She would have withdrawn, but he requested her to stay. " What have I to say to Mrs. Cusworth," ho said, shortly, " concerns you as well as your mother." He took a chair at the widow's request, and then, in his matter-of-fact business fashion, plunged at once into the subject of his visit. " I dare say that you have wondered, madam, that neither Mrs. Sidebottom nor I have made any call on you lately wit h a proposal. The fact is that only yesterday did my aunt and I arrive at a definite and permanent settlement. You are aware that she has acted as administrat ix of my uncle's property. We have, after some difference, cume to an arrange- ment and by that arrangement I take the tactory under my management — that, however, is not a matt -r of interest to you. What does concern you is the agrt ment we have struck about the house, which is become practically mine. I shall live in it henceforth and conduct the busii ess so success- fully carried on by my uncle, and I hope ant. trust without allowing it to decline. You are well aware that Mrs. Side- bottom gave you formal notice to quit ; this was a formality, because at the time nothing was settled relati\ e to the firm and the house. Please not to consider for a moment that there was a slight intended. As far as I an concerned, nothmg could have been more foreign to my wish s. Do not allow that notice to affect your arrangements " " We accepted the notice, and have made c ir plans to leave," said Salome, quietly. " In the first uncertainty as to what would be one," said Philip, " Mrs. Sidebottom came to you, Mrs. Cus orth, and I fear spoke with haste and impetuosity. She was excited, and at the time in a state of irritation with me, who had with- stood her wishes. Since then an arrangement has :)een con- cluded between us which leaves me the house. Tnis house 116 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. duties devolve on me I ^h.lP t '"=^" """^^d 'o haveTuch responsibilities which wiloccLv™"«Tf '" ">«^tering new s imperative that I shoi IH h. '^^ / ^^°''' attention Ind it keeping. The event of astniirl.""" distraction of'house invading this house-—' "'Sh'-the appearance of a man in.o''hi';~fe\^-tPa^^^ ^PpeahngglancetoldMmhemuotnT,'' '» Ph^'ip. and h« "I m:™ .^"''■HtL'',*^ '■- -""^er '°"^''°" ^ -"i^' 'ha" like myself, enfe'fng t' Letou^' " ''^l^ '"="' '"experienced t.cs, of whose freaks and va»a ^.;\"'^"'' '^^"^ are domes otSn-'ornrc^tinrf^- si^i^in^TodVSn^^ ^e&^an 'to" tl ^^^J -t^f -«,- -^ one of those professions wWchliki"^"' """^ ' believe it's springs of moral worth. 7t will hi ^'^'section, dries up the I may say to my success in fhlk^^^''^'"'^' '° my happines-f P-so„ to manage thrh:i"se fc" ?o,'° ''T^ ^«^P°S widow! " "^'^ «°°'' °f you to suggest this," began the .0 prP'^it^irw^;; T^'Star.r'""^' ■• '' '^ -'«^'' of ".e must be surrounded by sorrowf ?1 i ■ '■ * P'^« «'l>ere you to work when you oug};* °o b: l^e IZT "''=' ''"'^ «^ ^o" I thank you," said Mrs r,.l 1 "^"y oare." -^ I am distressed by necunia;,, 1 "'°''"'- " '* =0 happens that to accept your offer/''""'^'>' '°^^". and I am therXe ^lad I donot^iX^V^.^fyltlri-^i'-.l.-' withlosses. B. du HOC feel yourself eaual wifk" " "l*"' ",^"&ations for which vn., matters stand. Mrr1irbo°tC"td'T'ir^ ^^-"y ''°w and 1 have consulted J i and the MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLY. II7 iTunf; t'rhin\'inTt'ha/\""'^^ °' '"^ ^— ^ -^^e, and haps erred nnVKl? / ^^^ ^iH he had drawn out per- ref ?;?^hTcLtfo?hi:rxtii'r'''^H^ir "^^ ^"-^ ?; —how, we cannot sav ^nffll? ./7^°"^- . This was cancelled without cancemng the obSon t?7' ^' ^"\^-""^^"^^' ^^^ Cusworth. We L nuite^.!,r^ fi, . ^/^'^f*^'"^ ^^^ Miss intended to provide fo? her andVrs Sif h .^^""y^Tr^q^ick in proposin/for her arrenffn^ 1 ^'^^bottom and I agree by V late^tle irr brefiro^I^rs" Ba'^L'^^^' marriage a twelvemonth ago " ^"^^ °" ^^^ n,ea^H„7Ls'L^„tl7cS'-?™4'h.-V^^^^ ^"^ spoke. gracioLness and softness of to'it' ""''°'" ^^=^ "^ "^""er, "Of course," said Mrs. Cusworth "it h=o t, pSy—^c^^- ^^- wertd^L^ITinno^n.^^ felt the grace Ind kindness of Vh^ ^' ^ * ^^°"'' ^' °""^ her advantage by Sr and h.d i^^^^^^ P^^P^^^d for ing it to hinC and free n J Mrs S^lhl ? ^^f^'^'^V'' ^"^^^ut- at least, in it But her motht c "T ^?"' *^^ initiative, to receive it as f cLts^'^o T^^^ '^ ^^^"^^y mot'h:!°rghrsa"Arhi fS&T ^^^' ^^- ^er situation, she interpoTed- *^^^ "^^^ ""^"^^^^ to the ^'you^'said'^jusTrwlt'jou td^ '"] ^ ^°-' ^-"^^^ --e. You have creatld such a claim v "° '^^'"^ ?" °"^ ^^^^^^^s so kindly intentioned and so ' JT ^'^^^-^^ '^ ^° generous, any right to ask or tc; expect {^.^./'^^"^^"dmg what we had gation which it will he ?t?' T" ^^^ "^ ""^^r an obli- dear mothe^rN's^^t^e^^seV^br.^.^^J^^ My fly about carrying Lrcon^^^^^^^^ w ' ^"^ ^er orderly who and Pleasure U offer tCTontte ^tSLt^tTa^'; t "^M" K 118 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. a while. For that other offer that concerns me alone, will you allow me time to consider it ? " bur^t* ni^n "'^^^f ' b^f^"^^ Philip could reply, the door was burst open, and Janet rushed in, with a face of despair, holdmg an open letter before her. ^ ' "Mamma! Oh, mamma! The Prussians have killed him. Albert— has been shot ! " CHAPTER XVIII. JOHN DALE. T N the cabin of the Conquering Queen, Mr. Pennycomequick 1 had much time for thought before he was sufficiently recovered to leave his berth. He fell to wondering what hri'T ^l^. hej;. "pother, Mrs. Sidebottom and his nephew, had thought of his disappearance. th.'fl^^!J?^°u^^* ^^^^ ^^?^ newspaper, or some account of the flood ? he asked of Ann Dewis. " I am interested to hear what happened, and whether I am among those accounted to have fallen victims." After several trials, Mrs. Dewis procured what was required in pamphlet form-a reprint from one of the West Ridine papers of its narrative of the inundation, of the appearance of the country after it had subsided, from its special correspon- dent and full lists of the lost and drowned, Mr. Pennycome- quick read this account by the light that descended from the hatchway ; read about the havoc effected in Keld-dale the walls thrown down, the cottages inundated, the roads and the embankment torn up, and then among the names of those lost he read his own, with the surprising information that the body been identifi^ed''"' """^ *^°"^^ Rightfully mutilated, had This was news indeed. That he was esteemed dead did r u^".T'^^ ^J\ Pennycomequick when he learned how long he had been ill, but that some other body should have been mistaken for his was indeed inexplicable. " By this time,'' said he to himself, " Salome will have proved my will and Louisa will have exhausted hf^r vifunera- tion ot my m.emory." " ^ It took him two days to digest what he had learned As he recovered, his mind recurred to those thoughts which had i ' "- I JOHN DALE. 19 killed engaged him on the night of the flood, as he walked on the towpath by the canal. If he were to return to Mergatroyd when supposed to be dead, he was conhdent that Salome and her mother would «Mrrin!i T u'^^ ^"feigned delight, and without reluctance surrender to him what they had received through his bequest. Shtrn l7^' ^J'°u"'^t?' '"'^ °f ^^"^^^^^' *^^t in the joy of his return he would be able to control his feelings so as not to show to Salome what their real nature was. He recalled his prayer to Heaven, that he might have the way pointed out to him which he should go, and starthngly, h",n^"'%""o' ^"^^Pected, in a direction not anticipated, the ^o, . A ^/°y»^^"ce had flashed out of the sky and had pointed out his course. It had snapped his tie to Mergatroyd r^^ c ; ^^^nt temporarily ; had separated him from Salome, and set him where he had leisure and isolation in which to determine his conduct. Jeremiah was a man of religious mind and this consideration profoundly affbcted him. He the\tTo?tTe1v!nT '" '^"^' ^"' '^^ "^"^^ ^^^^^^^ ^^ ^' refn^\^* would be the probable consequences were he to return to Mergatroyd as soon as he was recovered ? The very desire he felt to be back, to see Salome again, was so thTir'^^" ^'V^^' '' constituted evidence fo his minS that if he were at home, in the exuberant joy of meeting her again he would let drop those words which his judgmen He turned to the past, to his dead brother Nicholas, and s^oer'^.i^PntT''^'^''^"^"'^ ^^"' ^r ^"^^^"^ niaintained the feuu {or^2Th u^/f '° remorselessly. Nicholas had suffered for what he had done, and by suffering had expiated his fault. tie, Jeremiah, had, moreover, visited on the guiltless son the resentment he bore to the father. He endefvoredo pacify his conscience by the reflection that he had made a provision To r ?Jf ' Representative of the family, and Jeremiah had no right to exclude him from the firm without a trial of his 1..C I^" ^f *"T.^ ^° ^"°*^'''' *''^^" o^ ideas connected with his present condition. hin^nl^^ ^^^H^ ^'^fy ^""-^^ sufficiently restored to enable him to resume the old routine of work ? Would a resump- 120 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. WouM t nof „?";?"'? '° """ -^^-^difit^ation of his health ? from every care We^n h ■ '°"'5 5"' '''•" '° '^^^^ '''■"^^'f '■•-« h^^moafred r-r,";:.,?. P, ' ^'n^ disengaged from business till He knew that rh?" ^'^ ^^^ ^'ven time to recover ? rte Knew that rheumatic fever often seriously affected the conflict'nf f''","''";^ ^'"'''" 'Whether he darfretum to the rence to thl «''!?• '^^ T"^' ^'"'Sgl^. ="« to attend a recur wTselt col JT <i°."''"'°"« ''« before. Would it not be the more' to " omi nl, '" '°. «° \''™"'' '«' '^ twelvemonth or bapcJ^ipr ?e rlt:?:^^^^^^^^ but'w^htrLTaXV™^ ""= '^^""^^ -•"'='' heTa'd'deTe^! no lean's fli-ry^o^L^'bt reLmabTe l^'^f — ^-by Ss^^^'o^d'^fl- amSn': wafi^trestXn-h^' Dusiness proud of the good name the firm had ever borne ceLTobekLrrn^Y^'A' *'^^ Pennycomequick should lished relight K Yorkshire as the title of an old-estab- lished reliable business associated with figured linen damasks Butjas his presence in the factory essLtial to1?s co" W He looked at Ann Dewis squatted by the fire smoking goin;^hic?he^h':? she.had lept Eari S^hofiVdT pijfe £ luf ' 1 . ■ ,^ P"^ ^"^o her mouth, and she had been hand " and'h^d^'^'^r^^- ^' ^^^ ^"^ his m^ into SaW's fuim his wlh than t/h'P 'i ^°^??' ^^^ ^he less likely to SchoS '^'' "^"^ ^'^^' ^° *he desire of Earle sho^d hTdetTrmfn^r'"'"^ ^' '° ^^^ '"^^"^ °f subsistence he%:rc^ Xht-'^.s^^^^^^^^^ m.i I^,^^e had a robust commonsense, and to him Tere SddlingTothlhl'dr^- '"^'^^ J^^" ^^^^ first wei^ to his fr end whlh Ir" l^u ^ ^^^^^^erable sum of, money by DalfhTd VTf.h c^^ """* ^r" '^P^'^' hut which, now that i^ale had estabhshed a good practice as a surgeon he — ^ I cauy ana willing to repay. " — "^^geon, ne vv^s Janets marriage. He had paid visits to Mergatroyd, and JOHN DALE. 121 Jeremiah had visited Biidlington ; but as both were busy men, such visits had been short and few. Though, however they sawhttle of each other, their mutual friendship remained unimpaired. As soon as Mr. Penny comequick was sufficiently recovered to leave the barge, he provided himself with a suit of clothes at a slop-shop, and settled into an inn in the town of Hull whence he wrote to Dale to come to him. He had his purse in his pocket when he was carried away from Mergatroyd and the purse contained a few sovereigns, sufficient to satisfy his immediate necessities. " Ton my word, never was so astonished in my life " shouted John Dale, as he burst into the room occupied by his Iriend then stood back, looked at him from head to foot, and roared. ' Mr. Pennycomequick was strangely altered. He had been accustomed to shave his face, with the exception of a pair of cutlets that reached no lower than the lobe of his ears Wow his face was frowzy with hair : lips, jaws, cheeks, chin, throat, were overgrown, and the hair had got beyond the pri- mary stage of stubbledom. He had been wont to attire him- self in black or Oxford mixture of a dark hue, to wear a suit ot lormal cut, and chiefly to affect a double-breasted frock coat that gave a specially substantial mercantile look to the man. The suit in which he was now invested was snuff- coloured and cut away in stable fashion. " Upon my word, this is a regeneration ! Dead as a manufacturer, alive as a man on the turf. Is the moral trans- formation as radical ? What is the meaning of this ? I saw your death in the papers. I wrote to Salome about it, a letter ot condolence, and had her reply. How came you to life again, you impostor, and in this guise ? " The doctor— he was really a surgeon— but everyone called him Doctor Dale, was a stout, florid man, with his hair cut short as that of a Frenchman, like the fur on the back of a mole. He was fresh, boisterous in manner when out of the sick-room, but when engaged on a patient, laid aside his roughness and noise. His cheeriness, his refusal to take a gloomy view of a case, made him popular, and perhaps went oume way towards encouraging nature to make" an effort to throw off disease. Jeremiah told him the story of his escape. " And now," said Dale, " I suppose you are going back. I' 122 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. tJetore I consider about soins bark- r «ro,.f surgeon. ' "^"^ °'^ """' """^^ '°S^'" shouted the When the medical examination was over n=i» » u «« Pennycomequicli that his heart was weak bJl rt^tl.u"^ ^'■ no organic derangement. He nTust be ca'refi I nf l "!rT' whii;^°"Yo7tnrfi„T'ro:traresf rr- '^-^' f- ^ Your heart is at fault, not your lungs The mLl™'^- ^''=^",'- and you must not make an^nJ^^^f' u '"^<='"ne is weak, take work that ren"i?es on<. ofT ,?^ ''"'''^ P°«'«' ""der- knock off work aZgefher— !^™- " ^°" ""'"^ '"^"^g«= 'o " For how long ? " vi.Jht^fnd'^^^'^LounT oTrecleratTveto ^^^f ""-^-t age of fifty we havp tn J.ncK?^^ ^ P^"^^^" ^fter the negtr<^tt^re'^^^^^^^^^^^ unfssisted br^outS^r a"d rri'"'*'"' ^"'^ '''^ ^a'"- adv;;?rmps°wl;rmy°tn;siiof-'^T"^^r'=<>"'^'''>°- whilst convalescent wh J »«f.^ !. ''*,™ ^^^" considering Mergatroyd I haVr mide a fnrf °'' "^ my drudging on at one That contents me ind Lf / ' ^^ ™°derate one, but last years of l1?etoL out the fin°l"f'' '° S°" ."'™"gh 'he " Fae out ! " eve S^fid -a' ""?' of existence." have gone into the CauMron of Pelias an7'h^°"-^''^.>'°" rejuvenated. ^' """^ ^ave come forth h JOHN DALE. 123 " If I remember the story aright," retorted Jeremiah, " Pelias never came out of the cauldron. I am hke PeHas in this, that I have gone into the waters of Lethe." " Now, Jeremiah, old boy," said the surgeon, " let this be a settled thmg, you husband your strength for a tv/eivemonth at least, and you will then be vigorous as ever. If you insist on going into harness at once, in two years I shall be attend- mgyour funeral." "Very well," said Jeremiah, " if things are in order at Mergatroyd, I will go, but I cannot allow the business to fall into confusion. To tell you the truth, I have reasons which make me wish not to go back there till I am quite restored, but I should like to know what is going on there." •' That I can perhaps tell you. I have had a letter from Salome. Do you know, my friend, when I have been away from Bridlington, on a holiday, I have been on thorns, think- mg that everything must be going out of gear on account of my absence, that my locum tenens has let patients slip and mismanaged difficult cases, yet when I have returned I have found that I was not missed, all has gone on swimmingly without me. You will find that it has been the same at Mergatroyd." " But what says Salome ? " " In the first place that cricket, Janet, is back. She was sent home lest an Uhlan should fall in love with her or she fall in love with an Uhlan, and now her husband is dead. Like a fool he served as a volunteer, uncalled for, as he was an Enghshman." " Albert Baynes dead ! Then you will have some work on your hands as trustee." '• So I shall. Now about your affairs. It seems that the will you drew up against my advice, without taking legal opinion, was so much wafte paper ; Salome says merely that It proved invalid, so Mrs. Sidebottom had to take out letters of administration, and divide your property between her and your nephew Philip." • " What ! — Salome get nothing ! I shall go back at once and send those two vultures to the right about." " Have patience, they came out better than ^'ou mi"-ht have expected. It has been arranged that Philip^ shall itve in your house and undertake the management of the factory, and he has asked Mrs. Cusworth to remain on in the old place in the same position as she occupied before." -K 124 THE i'ENNVCOMEQUlCKS. I? , '' Tha"! fi not'llf 'rifwas'l ''r "°^ ^° ^-" ^^ out." should be liberally provided for ^o!'^-^f"' ^'j^ '^^^ Salome agreed to fund for her [he s^^"' 7°"' Tu ^"^ "^P^^w have her sister Janet. Now I do noTknn ^"^* l^^' ^"^ '"^^^^^^ for seems to me that norhiW couW h. ^u^^ ^?"' ^'^ ^^«' but it had the disposing of T^ w n.^^ been better, even if you and your npf ^t] ■ , "atural heirs get their n>hf« treateTby fhL ^^°"^ ^^ ^^--^bly an^ ev^en haTdso^'^^^^ not tgh^ra^Mrs' S?d' K^.f ''" '^^^ ^" ^is breast. He had Of Philip beTnew noth fg'C whTtt h^^ ^^T"^ '^'"^ disposed him in his favour ^ ^^"^ J"'^ beard prt :• l™:p gro^ww'ii:^^^^^^ ^rr^^ ^-^- ^^^^. in a solicitor's office at NnfHnli. *'^i ^^'^^^ "P bi3 place devoting himselfenerge^rca iv^t"lhr^ -« Salome writes, i^ ^earnmg all the ramiffcatTons^of th. i^^^^^ °^ *^^ '"i^^' ^^^^^ someone to relieve you and vou h. "'/r'"' ^^^ ^^"ted man, already in the plac^ " ^ ^"^^ *^^ man-the right '« fnn^'^T f f.^ve^ytbing wrong." 1 do not believe it Vr.., u but let me tell yo™ that a lawJe^r T''''™ ^° '^'"y^'S, school ; there men learn to knowr,y^ °*" '' ^" ^''^l'^" ZhT"' """ «"=' bnsiness habUs The fr r^' ''"^ 1° '^^'" good heart or he wonJH nr./t ^ fellow must have a withhisaunttopartwUhalarr,'"'"^"' ^" arrangement Besides, Salome is no fool and ^ °f money for Salome, praise for his diligence hk rt. , I T"'^^ °^ him in hieh and consideration for h;r mother "*■ ^""''' "'"' ^is kindnels frieiSr,?ateKem! wite'hL!,"/''^ ^T^'^^^- ""' "is " If you go back " saM lI!, .1 '^°"'"' thinking, thing wrong Yon will '^°'''*> "yo" »'" throw everv out Sf Phufp. TrnsThim""'^!?"''''';:^"'' ^''' ''"ke the spS a blunder, that is na uraTan^he w°in ^,' ff^l""- " ''^ «'«'<« commit none that is fatal he istoTi i ^?' '*• ''"t he will "Dale," said Mr Pe'nm ^^'■.^""^ for that." mind not ^o return to MergaCTfrn'^t " " ' "^''^ "P "y same time^o Jeave those thfrebf'no'ra?.'/..?. r/-""^?,^ ^' '^^ • '" ^r bS eiSlrinnhtTF "ThVn'S r^;, ' ' '- -^ --" yoi^ an'd youTrn-lppeaTaf S: work drop JOHN DALE. 121 .ation we have buii, "u^ te nfpuUed dol"'^h'='' \'^P"- thiriffs eroin^ rnntrarir f^^ .. ^ • ^" » ^° nave to see out I finfceTto S theT Z'T°"'' ""? ^ ""^^le to put ill-na.ure'd an°d She's orTj t'oM'?^:rr„d"he""'""1;, '"'J . say.ng a word in our own defence I'wHU n '"<=^P*We of At one time when I wpnt f„ ,r *'" "'" ^ou a story. upon thLonversaUon bec'amP I Brownes departed, where- then the Jonir atTy depan^r"Th^^^^ the Joneses were Hvin Aevomr;^ J "P°" ^ ^^^''"^^ that verge of bankrupted So on till thJl ""f^"'' ^"^ ^^^^ °" ^he have never been the first to ii iT ^^' ^°"^- ^fter that leave only my host an^, h^nlf Tu-^ ^/^ ^^ ^^ ^^«t, so as to me. Now Terem ah vo^r f/' ^'^'"^ '° ^'^""^^ ^"d blacken pectedly, and f>ou 'couW .^^1 f "', °"* 3"'^^^^ ^"^ unex- ceived, then you wm find thl^^^^^^ *° Mergatroyd unper- son.;, is not^ being observed '^ti"^^^"^ /^ '««''^"" ^^'^ «^^/ return at will a.d c^orrect file esTm'ate? Th"".'''' ^"" -^^^ save to the exceptionally prlvUeger '' "°^ ^'"^^^ com^quTck'^^afd's'eetTlr' '°^ "^'"u^^'^ ^^ ^-ny- " Certa nlvT will n ^ "f ^'^^ ^^^^ ^^^ things are ? '' with a twinkK .nT^^-ev^'^^i^h^^^"' °^^ ^^"°"'" ^''^ ^-1^, feared lest you should"^ riake ifh^TTr ^^^^ ^°^ y°" make that dear littrpi^ce of%ooHf ^ ^""^ °^ >'^"'^^^^' ^"^ would not do, old bov if vo^, HnIT ' ^^^°"'^' y^^^'^ ^'^e. It to respect you yo^ZoulRl^^^^^^^^ -ased ne^ertt^d^L^^^^^^"^ ^ Merga.o^T^SVbo^T^S ''for NaCe'nIir.'/Jll^.^^^^^ P-sued Dale, bring a frost on^airtS"^ ! u^ '"^ "'^^^ ^^^h spring, to No, said Jeremiah, " it would never have done.- ^ 126 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XIX. BACKING OUT. *^\JOU will dine with us to-night, Philip," said Mrs. Side- 1 bottom. " Now that we have settled our business, it will be quite fascinating to have a bright and cheerful evening together. We will take the crape off our heads and hearts Lamb shall sing us some of his comic songs, and I will play you any music you like on the piano. You shall listen, and the motif oi our entertainment shall be ' Be gone, dull care.' I wish there were anyone invitable in this place, but there IS not, and moreover, though I do not care for the opinion of these barbarians, it is too soon after the funeral to have a dinner-party; we must mind the proprieties wherever we are." Mrs. Sidebottom was in good spirits. She had managed for herself well. The estate of Mr. Pennycomer,uick had been divided between herself and Philip, but as the business was already charged with her jointure, he deducted this from the total before dividing. She still retained her hold on the *^^*o[y'. remained as a sleeping partner in the firm, though, as Fhihp found to his cost before long, she was a sleeping partner given to walking in her sleep. Philip was to be the active member of the firm. It was by no means her wish that the mill should be sold and the business pass away, be- cause It was prosperous. If it had fallen into Lambert's hands It would have been different, for she knew well that her son would have been incompetent to conduct it. She was cheerful now that all was concluded, perfectly satisfied with herself, for the terms she had made with her nephew did not err on the side of generosity. ''And now," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " I really do intend to get Lamb to insert a hyphen in his name, and spell the final syllable with a capital Q. I have ascertained from a really learned man that our name is most respectable, and like all good names, is territorial. It is of ancient British origin and means the Wick or settlement at the head of a Conibe' thaUs a valley. When you know this you feel that it has an aristocrtitic flavour, and that is older than trade. I think that when written Penycombe-Quick it will have an air, Fhilip, an air of such exalted respectability as will entitle us *'«4, HACKING OUT. It7 to look on those who were entered on the Roll of R^tf i hu^ t]r:r^ ' "^^"' ^° ^^^^ Lamb% c^rdTpfil 1 n.^* .u . ^^"^ American way of combininj? the Daternal name w,th that acquired at marriage. If I call invsS Mr. haviour a thi f uZ transformation of manner and be- quite out of proportion to the amount under dispute In ch"atTn' rotTt^f"*^*"'"™''' t"' "== ■'^'"™ '° ™--l our olTry iv;rarout'rk;fu";r"*° *'" '^" '"'° '^ P^™^>:- Mrs. Sidebottom was a lady of this calihrp rhoff cordial with those who did not cro^he L^ was ransforme^^ when her interests were touched, into L w^mar pu/nacrus' unscrupulous and greedy. A phenomenon obe^ve^dmcer: Z, jf^'T '""^^^^^^ ^^ *h^ impatience of wearing dothes hat takes those seized by spiritual frenzy. In the e?s?acv of devotion or hysteria, they tear ofif their garments and scatter ers'drtheToint'of ^'"'.^''r. ^''^- ^i^eb^U^m waT p^s- flif..^ ^ fP"^'* of greed, she lost control over herself she flung aside ordinary courtesy, divested herself of every shred of pohteness. stripped off every affectation of disinteresterf ness, and showed herself in bald, unblushing rapacitv it deahng with Philip about the inheritance of Jerem Ih her masterful pursuit of her own advantage, her oveT be^rin J weVgalnU'didl: '' '/ neph^ew IS^on^wht^^^^^^ ;He;2^r.?---^^ " Yes, aunt," said Philip, " I am glad we have come to a .1 'I 128 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. PI I I* i 'I settlement. If it is not all that could be desired, it at all events leaves me vastly better off than I was before the death ot my uncle. With the help of Providence, and a j?ood heart, I trust that the respectable old house of Pennycomequick will mamtam its character and thrive continuously." '* You like trade," said his aunt. " Lambert never could have accustomed himself to it. By the way, there will be no necessity for you to change the spelling of your name." " I have not an intention to do so." ''Right. Of course it is as well to keep on the name of the firm unaltered. With us, moving in a higher and better sphere, it is other." " There is one matter, aunt, that has not yet been definitely arranged, and that is the last about which 1 need trouble you ' " What matter ? I thought all was done." " That relative to Miss Cusworth." " What about Miss Cusworth ? " " You surely have not forgotten our compact." **' Compact ? Compact ? " " The agreement we came to that she was to receive acknowledgment from us." " Acknowledgment ! Fiddlesticks ! " "I am sorry to have to refresh your memory," said Philip, harshly, " but you may perhaps recall, now that I speak of it, that 1 threatened to enter a caveat against your taking out powers of administration, unless you agreed to my proposition that the young lady should be given the same sum as was invested for her sister, which was the least that uncle Jeremiah intended to do for her." " Now— what nonsense, Philip ! I never heard such stuff. 1 refused to listen to your proposal. I distinctly recall my words, and I can swear to them. I told you emphatically that nothing in the world would induce me to consent." " The threat I used did, however, dispose you to alter your note and yield.'" "My dear Philip," said Mrs. Sidebottom, assuming an air of solemnity, " I have taken out administrative authority and have administered, or am in the process of administering." "Exactly. You have, acted, but you were only enabled know that very well, aunt, and you know on what terms I withdrew my opposition. You accepted my terms, and I look to you to fulfil your part of the compact." BACKING OUT. 129 withlranXfoXcrMiH ' ^^'^' V^^^"^^^ ^^ ^^^^ done r H.V4 "^^'j S; over tordid mammon. Let us eniov our^plvp^ di^^ es '&? •° e^^.f"' *""" 'hat we mig ,?renew our' foX.'' ^''' '""'^hawk .s buried and the calumet dTawn us.'^^ .%'rhr,i;u[tn''or" "" '- -^"'"«' "— swearTete\he'\'n',,f'?r''o'^";*'=P''°'"'='''l'"' ' ''^'J 'o it's „,y s;n^^/oVscre"„1,rn^e:s."'^ """"' ' ""'^^ '">-'' -• Philip He wisti!;r '°»J<=" yields least mill<," n.uttered " thisf^ is n n^.lhff "^ incensed. " Aunt," said he, anRrilv «nd"rs andinl"wa 'come'rhl'^ °' ^°".- ^ P"f-"v cleJ; you were to ro halves wVi?™!™ "'' '7 "''= '""^ °f ^'^ich pounds to fund or nlhZ V" "'""/ '°"' "' ""« thousand Cusworth." otherw.se dispose of for the benefit of Miss .'. If"^ P"' J "^ thousand fiddlesticks ! " awkward questionrnlhrh '" 'l'*^ ^'"'.'P' ^''"'^y- " »°"--e cancelled wilh" ^ '''''"^ ''<^'=" a^l'ed relative to the straVi^'.^'trficr:,^; t,ij''- ''''^''°"°™' '-'^-s "'■" •' Thev we^e nerTM '"T '° "^^^ ""e signature tor. off." defy , c^.Tord7r/:^^'^r rid i°„::^^ "- ^ picion: ^ightte' he'' P'"''P>"ew it. Whatever his sus- 1 •, , r . '"c» "^"^ ^^scmations UDon vrrn nu fu„4. „i u innocence. I^™ fr^gunUrr oThe'r^n'^^t?— ^'"^ '"' 130 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. il m i \i> " Do you seriously mean to evade the arrangement come to between us ?" asked Philip. He would not be drawn from his point by side issues. " I never went into it." " I beg your pardon, you did agree to what I proposed." " Upon compulsion. No, were I at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not yield on compulsion. There you have Shakespeare again, Phil. I wonder whether you can tell me from what play I quote. If you were a man of letters, you would cap my quotations." " There can be no question as to what were the intentions of Uncle Jeremiah." " Ah, there I agree with you. Having made a preposter- ous will, he tore it up, to show that he did not intend to con- stitute Salome his heiress." What was Philip to say ? How bring his aunt to her terms of agreement ? He remained silent, with closed lips and con- tracted brows. " Now, look here, Philip." said Mrs. Sidebottom, good- humouredly, " I have ordered siioulder of mutton and onion sauce: also quenilles of maccaroni and forced meat, and marmalade pudding. Come and discuss these good things with us, instead of mauling these dry bones of business." "I have already spoken to Mrs. and Miss Cusworth. Relying on your word, I told them what we purposed doine for them." ^ ^ ^ "Then you made a mistake, and must eat your words. What a pity it is, Philip, that we are continually floundering into errors of judgment, or acts that our commonsense re- proves, so that we come out scratched and full of thorns. You will be wiser in the future. Never make promises, that IS, in money matters. If you persist in paying the hussy the four or five thousand pounds, I have no objections to the sum coming out of your own pocket. Excuse me, I must laugh, to thmk how you, a lawyer, have allowed yourself to be bitten." " I do not see how I am to pay the sum you mention without jeopardising the business. I must have money in hand wherewith to carry it on. If you draw back " "There is no // in the case. I do draw back. Do me the justice to admit that I never rushed into it. You did, dazzled by the girl's eyes, drawn by her hair." Philip rose. " What— are you going, Phil? Lamb will be here direct- -i- BACKING OUT. 131 ly. He IS at the 'White Hart,' I believe, playing billiards. It IS disgusting that he can find no proper gentlemen to play with, and no good players either. Come, sit down again. You are going to dine with us. Some of your uncle's old port and Amontillado sherry. It must be drunk— we shall hardly move It to York." ' " I cannot dine with you now." "Why not?" ''Under the circumstances I cannot," he said coldly. "I trusted to your honour— I trusted to you as a lady, and," he raised his head, " as a Pennycomequick " '' How spelled ? " asked Mrs. Sidebottom, laughingly. *; I cannot sit down with you now, with my respect and confidence shaken. I trust that you have spoken in jest, and that to-morrow you will tell me so ; but I am not fond of jokes —such jokes as these leave a scar. I could not accept my Share ot Uncle Jeremiah's property without making recogni- tion of the claims of the Cusworth family. The father died in my uncle s service ; the mother and daughters have devoted themselves to making uncle's life's easy-and now to be cast out . It you hold back, and refuse to pay your share of two thousand pounds, I must pay the entire amount ; and if the business suffers, well, it suffers. The responsibility will be yours, and the loss yours also, in part." I* Nonsense, Phil; you will not run any risk." " ^[ yo" had taken your part, and I mine, we could have borne the loss easily ; but if I have the whole thrown on me, the consequences may be serious. Ready money is as neces- sary as steam to make the mill run." " I don't believe— I cannot believe— that you, a man of reason-you, a man with legal training-can act such a Quixotic part ? exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom, becoming for the moment alarmed, Then she calmed down again. " I see through you, Philip," she said. - Having failed to persuade me, you seek to terrify me. It will not do. I do not be leve so badly of humanity as to think that you will act sWd'n ? '^ *^'"^ "° '""""^ ""' ^^'^- ^ ^°P^ y°" ^'^^ " I^ refuse to sit down with vou." said Phih'n antrrilv '• 1 hen go!' exclaimed his aunt, with an explosion of spleen. ' Go— as an impracticable lout to your housekeeper's room, to sup on a bowl of gruel and cottage pie ' " Ik If 132 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. M iit> CHAPTER XX. A FACE IN THE DARK. RS SIDEBOTTOM was not at ease in her mind after mi^hf ^nff.?¥^'^'°" u^''""^" ?"^ ^'y P^^^^P ^h^t the business might suffer if so much capital were suddenly withdrawn from La f 5^^^^? how it had been when her brother Nicholas had insisted on takipg out of it his share-how angry Jeremiah shaken'".;^ r' ^°' "^ ^^'^^"' 'll" ^'"^^^'^^ ^^ ^^e firni Ld been shaken and how crippled it had been for some years. She educ"ed".'nd ^rr!Y ''7 ^^^^^ °^ '''' P^^fit' had been ftf^I ■' I '^^..Hu^ "° ^^^''^ t° "^^et ^^-ith a recurrence of this shrinkage. When Nicholas made that great call on the resources of the firm, there was Jeremiah in the office! In?.'?^ ^ experienced, and he was able, through his ability now wTphf ' '° P"\th^S"gh; but it was another matter now with Phihp, a raw hand, in authority Then again, Mrs. Sidebottom knew her brother Jeremiah had contemplated a large outlay in new and improved Tnr^n "J".'^- 7° ^"^^ "^ ^^^^ ^^^ t^"^^^' ^^reast with other hpT! J 't5 7^^ necessary that this costly alteration should be made. But could it be done if four or five thousand pounds were sacrificed to a caprice ? inousanci " ■^¥iP- 'r ^.""^h ^ ^°°^ ' " she muttered. " He inherits, about mnnl' Kv'u ^^stinacy, as well as his carelessness fh^h ?^'a ^icholas no sooner got money in his hands than he played ducks and drakes with it ; and Philip is bmt SalomlT Th '^"'^- .^°"^ thousand pounds to that minx, Salome ! There goes the church bell. When will Lamb be fn ^I!' ?'^^h°ttom lit a bedroom candle, and went upstairs thnnlhf '^"^'""fJ- ,^^^^'^ ascending, she was immersed in thought, and suddenly an idea occurred to her which made her quicken her steps. Instead of dressing for dinner she put on her bonnet. The church bell had diverted her thoughts into a new channel. When dressed to go out, she rang for the parlour maid, •' Susan," said she, " I had forgotten. This IS a holy day. I believe, I am morallv certain, it i.. . baini s uay, and appointed by the Church to make us holy. We must deny ourselves. So put off dinner half-an-hour. I cim going to church— to set an example." A FACE IN THE DARK. 133 fi aH.^J':i^''^^e°"'^"' ^^^ "°^ ^" assiduous church-goer. She rarely or never seen within the sacred walls on week days to ass^^r.f H^ announcement to Susan, that she was about o be nnln ^'"^ ^""'"^'F ^^^^ ^"^^"^"S^' ^"^ ^^at dinner was lurnrkpH fn^i ^"^^f'^^'^S^,, surprised the domestic and surprised and angered the cook, who did not object to unpunc- tuahty in herself, but resented it in her master^and mistress' herself '^T .T n 1' l''^ ^^ church," said Mrs. Sidebottom to ^'fl'u j^^^^ ^^ ^^^" ^'*h faintness ; fan myself with mv and wni '"^^''"^^'^' '° ['' '^^ congregation see^ am poor?/ and will come away at the Nunc Dimittis." ^ Dimit"tis^V.r'nf ''^^^°K^°'" !,Y"^^ ^" "^"'"^ ^^^°"gh the Nunc JJimittis, professed her adhesion to the Creed, and declared reverted Ttl"°"'- if '^' if ^"^^ *° ^^e lessons, her m nd reverted to the quenilles. «' They will be done to chips ! " she sighed, and then forgetting herself, intoned, '« A-men " A? the prayers she thought of the shoulder of mutton, and in the hymn hovered in soul over the marmalade pudd ng. Prob rev^;ied t'he'"'' M '^^'I ---dippers that e^eningliad been revealed they would not have been discovered more wraooed in devotion than that of Mrs. Sidebottom. In ZliloTs^tnt womrnZd ^U^T' l^ Stoke-on-Trent, we read that this holy woman had the faculty of seeing the prayers of her nuns danc he vanir'h^'' under the choir roof; they could not pierce devohon ' if"^ ^^fi^'^"V" '^^ ^•^""^ °^g^"' ^hich is true OnthT ' P^'^h^PS. fortunate we have not the same gift. ?t?enhon Ind !^^.^ '°'"..°^ '!.""""^ ^''^' ^°"^h* '^ attract the attention and engross the admiration of the choristers. Five young ladies, hating each other as rivals, sought by thei? Banki""" ir^'l^ '^' ^"^^*^' ^^^ was unmiried^ Old fnlffl\r^ *^^'^' ""T/"'^ ^^ ^°P^^ t° «^" two bags of pota toes to the parson. Mary Saunders was there, becluse some unpleasant stones had circulated concerning her character week davs'^l'^r'^fJ'^'' ^\^" '^ ^PP-rifg at church on week days. Mr. Gruff was there, to find fault with the oar- see"lho"^"'' °' '^^ '''''''' ^"^ ^^^- Tomkins aUended Yo see who were present. When the service was concluded, Mrs. Sidebottom ra-- of her Var^^ beside Salome who had been seated in front 01 ner. bhe at once addressed her dav nfa^ver'"' T^h '' ^usworth, how soothing it is to have week day prayer. I have had so much of the world forced on me 134 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. »i of late, that I felt I must for the good of my soul fly to the sanctuary." ^ " There is always service on Thursday evening." " My goodness !— is this not a Saint's day ? I thought it was and I have been so devout, too. You don't mean to tell me there is no special call for it ?-and these saints-they are perfectly fascmatmg creatures." Mrs, Sidebottom could talk what she called "goody" when there was need for it ; she generally talked it when chance led her mto a poor man's cottage. As children are given lollipops by their elders, so the poor, she thought, must be given "goody talk " by their superiors. She put on her various suits of talk as occasion offered. She had her scandal suit and her pious suit, and her domestic worry suit and her political suit-just like those picture books chilaren have, whose one face does for any number of transformation gar- ments, and the same head figures now as a bonze, then as IN ell Cz Wynne, as a Quakeress, or as a tight-rope dancer. 1 he author at one time knew a bedridden man who had two suits of conversation— the one profane, abusive, brutal— the other pious, sanctified and seasoned with salt. When his cottage door was open, the passer heard some such exclamations as these as he approached, addressed to the wife--" New then, you toad ! " Then a reference to her eyes best eft unquoted. " If I could only get at you, I'd skin you 1 Then a change, " Fetch me my Boible ; 6 my soul, be joyful, raise the sacred hanthem ! Bah ! I thou-ht t was the parson's step, and he'd give me a shilling ! Now then, you gallopading kangaroo ! " This, of course, was an extreme case, and Mrs. Sidebottom was far too well-bred to go to extremities. <aI Z^^ ^° ^l^"^ y°" "^^'"^ '" when you did," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " I was really feeling somewhat faint. I feared 1 would have been forced to leave at the Nunc Dimittis, and 1 was just fanning myself with my handkerchief, on which was a drop of eau de Cologne, when you came in, and a whiff of cool air from the door revived mc, so I was able to remain. I am so thank ul - The hymn afforded me such elevating thoughts ! I felt as if I had wings of angels, which I could spread, and upward fly ! " ^ ' ^ " I was late— I could not get away earher." V. " n n ^"' ^'^*^^"! *° ^^ ^^^^ to walk back with you. \0M will allow me to take your arm. I am still shaken with \^ A FACE IN THE DARK. 135 my temporary faintness. I have I fear, been overdone. I have had so much to try me of late. But when the bell ran^ I was drawn towards the sacred building. Upon my word ^I thought It was a Samt's day, and it was a duty as weTas a ^uTr 'l^u '^''\ ^ ""^ ^^ ^^^^ I ^^"t ; and now I am able to walk back with you, and after public worship-though nnn'^'^^'^rr ""T '^'^'l thin-the mind is turned to devo tion and the thoughts are framed, are, in fact, just what thev ought to be, you know. I have wanted for some tim^^o speak to you, and tell you how grieved I was that I was fo?ced^o give your mother not ce to leave. I had no thought o being mconsiderate and unkind." ^^ ^ "I am aware of that," answered Salome, quietlv. - Mr Philip Pennycomeqmck has already told mamma 'that the notice was a mere formality. The explanation was a refef to us, as mamma was somewhat hurt. She had tried to do her best for dear Mr. Pennycomequick." "You will have to induce her to forgive me. What is religion for, and churches built, and organs, and ho7water apparatus, and all that sort of thing, but to cultivate in uTthe forgiving spirit. I am, myself, the most placable person in the world, and after singing such a hymn as that in which I have just joined I could forgive Susln if she dropS the silver spoons on the floor and dinted them " ^ No one would have been more astonished than Mrs Side- bottom if told that she was artificial, that she affected interests, sympathies, to which she was strange At the timP hat she talked she felt what she said, but the^f^eling olWd the expression, did not originate it. "My dear Miss Cus worth, she went on, "I am not one to bear a grudL I never could. When my poor Sidebottom wa ali?e ?there had been any unpleasantness between us during the day-and will have tiffs-as I was saying, if there had been any un pleasantness between us, I have shaken him at night to wX ordo?e." ^" ""^^' ''''''' '"^ P^^^°" ^^' ^" inc^^imy s'aM said^^loi"' "k^?;,°";,?|;!?^^^^^^^^ ^^,1-ve Mergatroyd," -ter has -heard "ofle^d^elTh orh^husb^T'wr TIlTnl skirmish with the Germans. So when Mr. Philip Pennvcome quick wasso kind as to ask mymother to remain o^n ntheWe" in the same capacity as heretofore, we were toothankfuu!!!^' 136 THE PENNYTOMEQUICKS. II i . " What ! You stay ?" " Yes, my mother is not in a condition to move just now and my sister is broken down with grief. But, of course, this IS only a temporary arrangement." Mrs. Sidebottom said nothing for a moment. Presently however, she observed, " No doubt this is best, and I am very very pleased to hear it. Philip did not mention it— I mean Mr. Pennycomequick. I must not any longer call him Philip as he IS now head of the family, unless the captain be regard- ed also as a head, then the family will be like the Austrian eagle— one body with two heads. But, my dear Miss Cus- worth, tell me, did Mr. Pennycomequick say some foolish nonsense about three or four thousand pounds?" " He mentioned something of the sort to mamma." " It IS all fiddlesticks," said Mrs. Sidebottom, confiden- tially. ''He IS the most inconsiderate and generous fellow in the world. His father was so before him. But it won't do. Ihe mill will suffer, the business fall to the ground, we shall all go into the bankruptcy court. I respect the memory of my darhng brother too highly to wish that the firm he man- aged should collapse like a house of cards. Philip is generous and all that sort of thing, and he will try to press nioney on you. You must not consent to receive it, for two reasons— hrst, because it would smash the whole concern, and next because people would talk in a way you would not like about you. Do you understand— you could not receive a large allowance from a young unmarried man. However," con- tinued Mrs. Sidebottom, " do not suppose I wish you to waive all expectations of getting anything. I ask you only to trust me. l^ean on me and wait ; I have your interests at heart as much as my own. I daresay you have heard my brother say iie would be driven to adopt improved machinery ?" " Yes, I heard him say that." "Very well. My nephew, Philip, must reconstruct the mechanism of the factory at the cost of several thousands. ISow, my dear brother did not leave enough money to be used both on this and on satisfying your just claims. If you will wait, say till your marriage— then you may be sure I and my comfortabre!" ^'^^ '''"'" '^"'"^ "^''"^ *° "^^^^ ^^^ kind. When Mr. Philip Pennycomequick made- the request to my mother that sne should stay in the house, she consented L A FACE IN THE DARK. 137 tnU u^ temporarily, till he is settled, and has had time to hZJr?u "" ^°' someone who will be a more active house- keeper than my mother can be ; and at the Tame time it will rprnl°7^"'?u'''^ ^u "f ' ^^'"^ "' breathing time in which to recover from the shock of Mr. Albert Baynes' death, and con- sider in what manner my sister Janet's future will be tied up with our own. As for that other very generous bfter-we had no time to give it a thought, as it came to us simultaneously with the crushing news from France." Salome halted. "You have passed your door, Mrs. Sidebottom." w^ri c ™^ ' ,^° ^ have— I was so interested in what you were saying, and so charmed with your noble sentiments. of m.fKf' ^"^^ ^^^'^ *° T*^' ^"^ ^^"^ ^ith US-only shoulder 01 mutton, quenilles, and marmalade pudding." mother?""^ declined : she must return immediately to hei '' ^hyj" exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom, " bless my soul, here coSnhWnf "^ '"""S !° ""^^^ "'-^ "^""°^' ^oy^^^ir, take the compliment as paid to me, for we have parted in dudgeon." She h.H^J V \^'^ ^""^'.' ^^"'^ ^" boiling indignation, He f.lfh r 'f" ^ *'^P' ^'^"^ ^hich escape was difficult, tnuT r""^^^^ T ^'?"°"' b°""^ ^y ^he proposal he had made o Miss Cusworth ; he could not withdraw from it, and yet at sevl' 'k ^'^""^ i!" ^"^ '^^ ^"^'^^ ^""^ mentioned would severely embarrass him. He could not tell Salome that he daWnT r^ n ^'* u -^ '" ""^^^"^ *^^ °ff^^' ^"d crave her in- sealn Th °T ^'"' ^^ P"* °^ ^^^ fulfilment to a convenient tZui'r. J °"^^ "^^I °^* °^ *^^ difficulty that commended he nrofi^"Jr' ^°n°^^f ^^^°"^^ ^" ^"""^^ s""^' charged on draw her fn I fl."" ' 'i" such time as it suited her to%vith- worH ^,^'/°"^ thousand pounds and invest it elsewhere; in a word, to take her into partnership. for herT^ ""T^ *° *^^' decision, he resolved on preparing it occun ed h^^h^" r ^' °"u""' \"^ ^" descended to the rooms ^n rZ K^u^ Cusworths, there to learn that she had gone to church. He at once took his hat and walked to meet her! han^inJ^'i! ^^^^'^1^° '^^ ^^' returning with his aunt a^S^!:.'l5;rJ:jl--f f d t^- exhibition of sudden disliked.' "" ^'debuuum for one whom he knew she '^ You see, Philip, said his aunt, "I thought it was a Saint s Day, and the Saints want encouragement ; so I went to the parish church. I put dinner ofF-inow can ? induce il f 1 188 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. you and Miss Cusworthto come in and pick a little meat with me — not bones, Philip, these we have pulled already together^ I was taken with a little faintness in church, and Miss Cus- worth has kindly lent me support on my way home." The little group stood near the doorstep to the house occupied by Mrs. Sidebottom. A gaslight was at the edge of the footway, a few paces lower down the road. Mrs. Side- bottom disengaged her hand from the arm of Salom.e — then the girl started, shrank back and uttered an exclamation of terror. •' What is the matter ?' asked Mrs. Sidebottom. " I have seen it again," said the girl, in a low tone. •' Seen what ?" asked the lady. •• Never mind what," interrupted Philip, divining immedi- ately from Salome's alarm and agitation what she meant. " We must not keep my aunt waiting in the street. The ground is damp and the wind cold. Good-night, Aunt Louisa. I will escort Miss Cusworth home." When Philip was alone with Salome, he said, " What was it ? — What did you see ?" " I saw that same man, stadiiig ^.j the lamp-post, looking at us. He wore his hat and overcoat. Again I was unable to see any face, because the strong light fell from above, and it was in shadow. You had 3'our back to the lamp, and the figure was in your rear. When you turned it was gone." CHAPTER XXI. HYACINTH BULBS. THE figure seen in the dark had diverted Philip from his; purpose of speaking to Salome about money. He was not particularly eager to make his proposal, because that pro- position had in it a smack of evasion of an offer already made ; as though he had speedily repeated of the liberality of the first. In this there was some moral cowardice, such as is. found in all but blunt natures, and induces them to catch at excuses for deferring an unpleasant duty. There exists a wide gulf between two sorts of persons — the one shrinks and shivers at the obligations to say or do anything that may pain another ; the other rushes at the chance with avidity, like a J HYACINTH BULBS. 139 hornet impatient to sting. On this occasion PhiUp had a real excuse for postponing what he had come out to say, for Salome was not in a frame of mind to attend to it ; she was alarmed and bewildered by this second encounter with a man whose face she had not seen, and who was so mysterious in his proceedir„o. Accordingly Philip went to bed that night without having discharged the unpleasant task, and with the burden still weighing on him. Next day, when he returned from the factory, in ascend- ing the stairs he met Salome descending with her hands full of hyacinth glasses, purple, yellow and green, and a pair tucked under her arms. She smiled recognition, and the faintest tinge of colour mounted to her face. Her foot halted, held suspended for a moment on the step, and Philip flattered himself that she desired to speak to him, yet lacked the courage to address him. Accordingly he spoke first, volunteering his assistance. " Oh, thank you," she replied, " I am merely taking the glasses and bulbs to the Pummy cupboard again." " Thank you in English is the equivalent for sil vous plait and not of tnerci;' he said, "so I shall carry some of the glasses. But— what is the Pummy cupboard ? " " You do not know the names of the nooks and corners of your own house," said Salome, laughing. " My sister and I gave foolish names to different rooms and closets, when we were children, and they have retained them, or we have not altered them, I had put the bulbs in a closet under the stair- case till we thought of changing quarters, and then I removed them so as to pack them. It was whilst I was thus engaged that I saw that strange, inexplicable figure for the first time. Now that I know we are to remain here, I have put them in glasses to taste water, and am replacing them in the dark, in the cupboard." " Have you many ? " " A couple of dozen named bulbs, all good." "I will help you to carry down the glasses and roots. Where are there ? " " In the drawing-room. We kept the glasses there all summer in the cheffonier." study I hope you will be able to spare me one or two for my 140 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " Of course you shall have a supply in your window. They were procured partly for Mr. Pennycomequick and partly for my mother." " You say ' of course ' ; but I do not see the force of the words. Remember I have had a lodging house experience ; my sense of the fitness of things is framed on that model, and my landlady never said ' of course ' to anything I sug- gested which would give me pleasure, but cost her some trouble. I am like Kaspar Hauser, of whom you may have heard ; he was brought up in a solitary dark cell, and denied everything, except bare necessities; when he e- aped and came among men, he had no notion how to behave, and was lost in amazement to find they were not all gaolers. I had on my chimney-piece two horrible sprigs of artificial flowers, origmally from a bridecake, that from length of existence and accumulation of soot were become so odiouL that at last I burnt them. The landlady made me pay for them as if they were choice orchids. " " You must not make me laugh," said Salome, " or I shall drop the glasses from under my arms." " Then let me take them," said Philip, promptly, " you have two in your hands, that suffices. I tire you with my reminiscences of lodging-house life ? " " Not at all— they divert me." " It is the only subject on which my conversation flows. I do not know why it is that when I speak on politics I have a difficulty in expressing my ideas, but when I come on landladydom, the words boil out cf my heart, like the water from a newly-tapped artesian well. I have a great mind to- tell you my Scarborough experiences." " Do so." " Once when I was out of sorts I went to the sea-coast for a change — but I am detaining you." " Well, I will put down the glasses and bulbs in the Pummy cupboard and return to hear your story." Instead of going downstairs with Salome, Philip, though he had relieved her of two glasses, went with them to the drawing-room, whence he had taken them— which was in.no. way assisting her. Moreover, when he was there, he put down the e^lasses nn thp tahl«i anri hofrfin ov^mlr^rr fU.^^ »>.»«^«- of the bulbs— double pink blush, single china blue, the queen of the yellows, and so on. He had offered to help Salome^ but he was doing nothing of the kind, he waited till she had HYACINTH UULBS. 141 filled the glasses with water, planted a couple of bulbs in them, and consigned them to the depths of the cupboard. When she returned to the parlour, he was still examining the names of the tubers. ® <;, ',^i°^'". ^.f»dj^«' "I ^i" tell you about my landlady at Scarborough He made no attempt to carry down glasses he detained the girl from prosecuting her work. " I was at Scarborough for a week, and when I left my lodgings the andlady charged me thi y hillings for a toilet set, because there was a crack in the soap-dish. I had not injured it. I pointed out the fact that the crack was grey with age that the discolouration betokened antiquity, but she was inacces- sible to reason, impossible to convince. The injury done to the soap-dish spoiled the whole set, she said, and I must pay for an entire set I might have contested the point, at llw ; fhil vn' hardly worth my while, so I agreed to pay the hirty shillings only I stipulated that I should carrjt^ off the fractured soap-dish with me. Then she resisted ; the soap- dish, she argued, could be of no use to me. I must leave U and at last when I persisted in my resolve, she let me off with a couple of shillings." ici me on , " But why ? " " Because the cracked soap-dish was to her a source of revenue. Every lodger for years had been bled on account sLn^.T"^ '° '^.l'""' °^ '^''}y shillings, and that cracked wnm.n'' ^i^^^w°^th"iany pounds per annum to that wretched woman. Then, with a sudden tightening of the muscles at heir w^'^-'V".' """k*^' ^l^^^^^' " ' ^"°- thefr tracks Ld rZIT ^ have been brought up among landladies, as Ronuilus was nursed by a wolf, and Jupiter was reared aming " I suppose there are good lodging-house keepers as wf>II as bad ones," said Salome, laughing weepers as well -KnfS^^"*^ ^""P^*^ ^^' *h^"^''" answered Philip, grimlv but I never came across one. Just as colliers acfuire a peculiar stoop and walk, and horse dealers a special tl"st in conscience, and sailors a peculiar waddle, engendered bv their i:T.T^?.':y, '°n^ ^°^^i"?-h°-« keeping Voduce 7warp 'Z? kI'""" V ■--^""^"ef in women with which they were what ft?; /k\^° "?' know what it is, you cannot^Tow wha it IS, to be brought up and to form one's opinion amon^ andladies It forces one to see the world, to^ con^emplatf life through their medium as through lenses that break and 142 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. 114 I distort all rays. Do you recall what the King of Israel said when the King of Syria sent to him Nauman to be healed of his leprosy ? " " Yes," answered Salome, '• ' See how he seeketh a quarrel against me.' " '• Exactly. And those who li^'e in furnished lodgings are kept continually in the King* of Israel's frame of mind^ Whatever the landlady does, whatever she leaves undone,, when she rolls her eyes round the room, when she sweeps with them the carpet, one is always saying to one's self, See how this woman seeketh a quarrel against me. Landladies are the cantharides of our nineteenth century civilization, the great source of blister and irritation. Even a man of means» who has not to count his shillings, must feel his wretchedness in lodgings ; but consider the apprehension, the unrest that must possess a man, pinched in his circumstances, who lives among the landladies. Her eye," continued Philip, who had warmed to his subject, " is ever searching for spots on the carpet, fraying of sofa edges, tears in the curtains, scratches in the' mahogany, chips in the marble mantelpiece. I think it was among Quarle's emblems that I saw a picture of man's career among traps and snares on every side. In lodgings every article of furniture is a gin ready to snap on you if you use it." Then Philip took up two hyacinth glasses, one yellow, the other blue, but put down that which was blue, and took up another that was yellow, not for aesthetic predilection, but to prolong the time. It was a real relief to him to unburden his memory of its gall, to go through his recollections, like a Jew on the Paschal preparation, searching for and casting out every scrap of sour leaven. " I daresay you are wondering. Miss Cusworth," he said, •' to what this preamble on landladies is leading." Salomelooked amusedand puzzled; so perhaps is the reader. Philip had been, as he said, for so many years in furnished lodgings, and had for so many years had before his eyes nothing but a prospect of spending all his days in them, and of expiring in the arms of lodging house keepers, that he had com.e to loathe the life. Now that his financial position was altered, and before him opened a career unhampered and unsoured by pecuniary difficulties, a desire woke up in him to enjoy a more cheerful, social life than that of his experience. Now the difference between the days in his uncle's house at y HYACINTH BULB8. 143 Mergatroyd and those he had spent in lodgings at Nottingham did not differ radically. It was true that he no longer had the tongue of a landlady hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles, but his day was no brighter, quite as colourless. He was beneath the same roof with an old lady who belonged, as his suspicious eye told him, to the same clay as that out of which the landlady is modelled, only circumstances had not developed in her the pugnacity and acridity of the class. In hetself, an uninteresting person, whom only the love and respact of her daughters could invest with any favour. But those daughters were both charming. His prejudice against Salome was gone completely, that against Janet almost gone. As his suspicions of Salome left, his dislike of Janet faded simultaneously. He had conceived a mistrust of Salome because he had conceived an aversion against Janet ; now that he began to like Salome, this liking influenced his regard for the sister. The society of his aunt was no gain to Philip. He dis- approved of her lack of principle and disliked her selfishness. The tone of her mind and talk were repugnant to him, and Lambert and he would never become friends, because the cement of common interests lacked. Philip discovered himself not infrequently during the day looking at the office clock, and wishing that wor' time were over ; not that he wearied r his work, but he was impatient to be home and have a cha. ..j of a word with Salome. When he returned from the factory, if he did not meet her in the hall, or on he stairs, or see her in I .e garden, he was disapp ited. It was remarkable how many wants he dis- covered that necessitated a descent to Mrs. Cusworth's apartments, and how, when he entered and found that one of the daughters was pr sent, his visit was prolonged, and the conversation was not confined to his immediate necessity. If on his entering, the tea-table was covered, he was easily persuaded to remain for a cup. His reserve, his coldness, did not wholly desert him, except when he was alone with Salome, when her freshness and frankness exercised on him a relaxing fascination ; all his restraint fell away at once, and he became natural, talka^" 'e, and cheerful. " The fact of the matter is," said Philip, *' I have been lifting the veil to you that covers furnished lodging-house life, and exposing my wretchedness to enlist your sympathy, because I am about to ask a considerable favour." »i1 :S1 144 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. *' I am sure we need no persuasion to do what we can for ill 1;^ m Iff you. "It like to wont. is this. If your mother would not object, I should have my meals with you all, just as my uncle was Having everything served in my room recalls my past with too great intensity. I have heard of a prisoner who had spent many years in the Bastille, that in after life, when free, he could not endure to hear the clink of fire-irons. It recalled to him his chains. If there be things at which my soul revolts it is steak, chops, cutlets. " Oh ! it would indeed be a pleasure to us — such a plea- sure ! " and Salome's face told Philip that what she spoke she felt ; the colour lifted in her cheeks, and the dimples formed at the corners of her mouth. " And now," she said, still with the smile on her face, playing about her hps ; " And now, Mr. Pennycomequick,. you will not be angry if I ask you a favour." " I angry ! " " Must I enlist your sympathy first of all, and inveigle you into promising before you know what the request is I am about to make ? I might tell you that a young girl like me has a little absurd pride in her, and that it is generous of a man to respect it, let it stand, and not knock it over." " What is the favour ? I am too cautious — have been too long in a lawyer's office to undertake anything the particulars and nature of which I do not know." " It is this, Mr. Pennycomequick. I want j^ou not to say another word about your kind and liberal offer to me. I will not accept it, not on any account, because I have no right to it. So that is granted." •♦ Miss Cusworth, I will not hear of this." Philip's face darkened, though not a muscle moved. " Why do you ask this of me ? What is the meaning of your refusal ? " " I will not take that to which I have no right," she replied firmly. " You have a right," answered Philip, somewhat sharply. " You know as well as I do that my uncle intended to provide for you, at least as he did for Mrs. Baynes. It was not his wish that you should be left without proper provision." •' T Unnixr nnfViinnr nf tho cr>rf \A7Viof Vi^ »->..f i>^4-^ t»-5-- ' 1- - •- ^ --■ • '■.■t;i T T lio.:. ii^_ ^UL iiiixj ill y ijiiiJUS was merely an evidence that he had at one time purposed to do an unfair thing, and that he repented of it in time." " Miss Cusworth, that cancelled will still remains to me a HYACINTH BULBS. 145 mystery, and I do not see how I shall ever come to an under- standing of hoV it was that the signature was gone. From your account my uncle " " Never mind going over that question again. As you say, an understanding of the mystery will never be reached. Allow it to remain unattempted. I am content." " But, Miss Cusworth, we do not offer you a handsome, but a moderate provision." " You cannot force me to take what I refuse to receive. Who was that king to whom molten gold was offered ? He shut his teeth against the draught. So do I. I clench mine and you cannot force them open." " What is the meaning of this ? Why do you refuse to have my uncle's wishes carried out ? You put us in an invidious position." Salome had shut her mouth. She shook her head. The pretty dimples were in her cheeks. Her colour had deepened. " Someone has been talking to you," said Philip. '• I know there has. Who was it ? " Salome again shook her head, with a provoking smile dappling and dimpling her face ; but seeing that Philip was seriously annoyed, it faded, and she broke silence. '* There is a real favour you can do us, Mr. Pennycome- quick, if you will." " What is that ? " asked Philip. His ease and cheerful- ness were gone. He was angry, for he was convinced that Mrs. Sidebottom had said something to the girl which had induced her to refuse the offer. " It is this — mamma had all her money matters managed for her by dear Mr. Pennycomequick. She did not consult us about them, and we knew and know nothing about her property. I do not know how much she has, and in what investment it is. She did not, I believe, understand much about these affairs herself, she trusted all to the management of Mr. Pennycomequick. He was so clever, so kind, and he did everything for h-^r without giving her trouble. But now that he is gone, I fancy she is worried and bewildered about these things. She does not understand them, and she has been frettmg recently because she supposes that she has encountered a great loss. But that is impossible. She has touched nothing since Mr. Pennycomequick died, and what he had invested for her must certainly have been put where secure. It is not conceivable that she has lost since his death. ■ili'ii 4 11 146 M I'f THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I have been puzzling my head about the matter, and I sus- pect that some of her vouchers have got among Mr. Pennv- comequick s papers, and she fancies they are lost to her. It m.n """""r possible as he kept the management of her little moneys, that some of her securities may have been taken with his. If you would kindly look into this matter for her, I am sure she will be thankful, and so-without saying-will I If you can disabuse her mind of the idea that she has met with heavy losses, you will relieve her of a great haunting trouble. I will do his cheerfully. But this does not Iffect the ODiigation •' My teeth are set again. But-see ! you offered to carry down my glasses, and you have not done so. You have moreover, hindered me in my work." The house-door bell was rung. h.nH^^ f "^'," "^""l^^d Philip. - I know the touch of her hand on knocker or bell-pull. I am beginning to entertain towards her some of the feelings I had towards my landladies Wh. t ""''P^^^^te lodging-house days. Confound her ! Why should she come now ? " I'i Nil If I-'' CHAPTER XXII. YES OR NO. P"iVi^ 7.^' "^^*- "^ ^^^. recognised the ring of Mrs. 1 Sidebottom As soon as the door was opened her voice Zllf?/l^^^' ^"^ ^f P "'^^ " ^*^°"g expressL, which on^ wantea raising another stage to convert it into an oath Salome caught up a couple of hyacinth glasses and re- sumed her mterrupted occupation ; and Phil^ went ?o the window to remove a spring-nail that incommoded him. There are certain voices which, when coming unexpectedly on the ear, make the conscience feel guilty, though it may be free from fault. Such was that ofUrl Sidebottom ^f^ip had been studying his Bible instead of talking to Salome when he heard her, he would have felt as though he had S caught reading an improper French novel: and if c;.i„^^ tlllThl ""T^^"^ '" making preserves in the kitchenT'she thmi^h r\ !f K conscious of inner horror and remorse as though she had been concoctmg poison. The reason of this YES OR NO. 147 is that those who hear the voice know that the owner of the voice is certain j whatever they do, to beheve them to be guilty of some impropriety ; and they are frightened, not at what they have done, but at what they may be supposed to have done. " I suppose that Mr. Pennycomequick is in his room," said Mrs. Sidebottom, passing on, to the servant who had admitted her. " It is not his time to be at the office." She ascended the stairs to the study door, and in so doing passed Salome, who bowed, and was not sorry to be unable to respond to the proffered hand, having both of her own engaged, carrying glasses. Philip heard his aunt enter the study, after a premonitory rap, and remained where he was, hoping that as she did not find him in his room she would conclude he was out, and retire. But Mrs. Sidebottom was not a person to be evaded thus ; and after having looked round the room and called at his bedroom door, she came out on the landing and entered the drawing-room, where she discovered him, penknife in hand, removing his spring-nail. " Oh ! " she said, with an ej'e on the bulbs and flower glasses. " Adam and Eve in Paradise." "To whom entered the mischief-maker," said Philip, promptly turning upon her. " Not complimentary, Philip." " You brought it on yourself." " It takes two to pick a quarrel," said Mrs. " and I am in the most amiable mood to-day. you might have inquired about my health this morning, you knew I was not well yesterday. As you had not grace to do so, I have come to announce to you that I better." " I did not suppose that you had been seriously ill." " Not seriously ill, bat indisposed. I nearly fainted in church last night, as I told you; but you were otherwise occupied than in listening to me. Now, I want to know, Philip, what was that rigmarole about something or someone seen in the dark? " ^ " There was no rigmarole, as you call it." " Oh i do not pick faults in my language. You know what I mean. What was the excuse made by Miss Cusworth for taking your arm ? " " Miss Cusworth did not take my arm." Sidebottom, By-the-way, for the am I VV: li 148 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. standing by the lamp.^ost, lookiTo'n^"^ ''" '""^ °"^ hJttn^nel^ 'hJ'!?;;"'' "1!'''"'^ "T^*^<> «° his aunt what not fo^ ZTr^"''^ --^ disconcerted b/wh'a"t 'str/rdlrt " Who has the garden key ? " she enquired. " ™y ""<='<= had one on his bunch." ,. v" i ?"""=h is in your possession ? " bureau'"' " "°* ^'^ °'" °' ''• I' '^ 'o<=ked up in my Had r^^o^elise X'l ''""^ '" "°' ^'' '" "^ "•^' "--• "Yes, Mrs. Cusworth." " And is there a third ? " "No; that is all." l"sTa'?^;i'k'^" ''" ""'"^'^•^ --^ ^J- '™h^e gl^dln'e'jrwtn pia;To^"atftntht:v.h?e:^::^s"'vr°s?rf'r'''''' rtLer^A^^ISaTn^n^rn^r^^^^^^^^^^ the garden door beJn. nnwtl^lu^.'i ^°^^ not account for door- being left open7 Wh^IhoLirnoVJh'^'P' '''' lu' \°"'" YES OR NO. 149 and pimply faces, who fly about with the bats, and to whom the cast-ofF clothmg, the good hat and warm overcoat, would be a boon. Who are these Cusworths ? Whence have they come ? Out of as great an uncertainty as this mysterious hgure. They are creations out of nothing, like the universe, but not, like it, to be pronounced very good. Now Philip is not my solution of the riddle the only logical one ? ''' '; ™s is enough on the subject," said Philip, especially chafed because his aunt's explanation really was the simplest and yet was one which he was unwilling to allow. '« You charge high-minded, honourable people with " e-^"J f.^^''^^ ^^^? '^'*^ ^°^"^ "° harm," interrupted Mrs. Sidebottom. " The clothes were laid out to be distributed to the needy ; and Mrs. Cusworth was given the disposal of ' XT "^^ lu ^ ^^^ *° favour a relative, who is to blame her ? Not I. She would probably not care to have the sort of re- lative who would touch his cap for Jeremiah's old suits, come openly to the door in the blaze of day, and before the eyes of the giggling maids. No doubt she said to the moulting re- lative, - Come in the dark ; help yourself to new plumage, but do not discredit us by proclaiming kinship." Phihp was too angry to answer his aunt. To change the subject he said, " Miss Cusworth has refused to receive any- thing from us. That some influence has been brought to bear on her to induce this, I have no doubt, and I have as iittle doubt as to whose influence was exerted." He looked fixedly at his aunt. Tv/r " c-5"l^^^^ ^^? ^^^ h^^ ^^^ ^^ace to do so," answered Mrs. Sidebottom cheerily. - No, Philip, you need not drive your eyes into me, as if they were bradawl-.. I can quite understand that she has told you all, and laid the blame on me. 1 do not deny my part in the transaction. I am not ashamed oi it ; on the contrary, I glory in it. You were on the threshold of a great folly, that jeopardised the firm of Pennycomequick, and my allowance out of it as well. I have stepped in to stop you. I had my own interests to look after 1 hax/e saved you four thousand pounds, which you could not attord to lose. Am not I an aunt whose favour is worth iw u^ nctiicu wiin element - cultivating-: an aunt wlin rlpcoK ary politeness." Then Philip's anger boiled up. " We see everything through opposite ends of the tele- scope. What is infinitely small to me and far away, is to you 150 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. present and immense ; and what to me is close at hand and overwhelming, is quite beyond your horizon. To my view of things we are committing a moral wrong when techuically right. How that will was cancelled, and by whom, will pro- bably never be known ; but nothing in the world will persuade me that Uncle Jeremiah swung from one extremity of liberal- ity to Miss Cusworth, coupled with injustice to us, to the other extreme of generosity to us and absolute neglect of her. Such a thing could not be. He would turn in his grave if he thought that she, an innocent, defenceless girl, was to be left in this heartless, criminal manner, without a penny in the world, contrary to his wishes." " Why did he not make another will, if he wished it so much ? " " Upon my word," said Philip, angrily, " I would give up my share readily to have Uncle Jeremiah back, and know the rights of the matter of the will." He stood looking at his aunt with eyes that were full of anger, and the arteries in his temples dark and swollen. " I shall take care," he said, " that she is not defrauded of what is her due." Then he left the room, and slung the door after him with violence, and certainly with discourtesy. Never before had he lost his self-control as he had lost it in Mrs. Sidebottom's presence on this occasion, but before he had reached the foot of the staircase he had recovered his cold and formal manner. As he saw Salome come from the cupboard where she was arranging the hyacinths, he bade her in an imperious manner attend him into the breakfast room, and she obeyed readily, supposing he had some domestic order to give. " Shut the door, please," he said. The anger raised by Mrs. Sidebottom af ed his address and behaviour to Salome. A sea that has beeu lashed into fury beats indiscriminately against every object, rock or sandbank. He stationed himself with his back to the window and signed to the girl to face him. "Miss Cusworth, ' he said, putting his hands behind him, as though he were standing before the hearth and not at a window, "My aunt has imposed on your ignorance, has taken a wicked advantage of your generosity, in persuading you lo acv-iiue mc uiicr luac v/as made to you. " " I decline it from personal motives, uninfluenced by her." " Do you mean to tell me she has not been meddling in the matter ? I know better." 'L. YES OR NO. 151 "I do not deny that she spoke to me yesterday, but her words did not prompt, they only served to confirm the resol- ution already arrived at." " But I will not allow you to refuse. You shall have the money." "I never withdraw a word once given," said Salome, with €qual decision. "Then you shall take a share in the mill— be a partner." "I cannot," she skid, hastily, with a rush of colour. '« Indeed this is impossible." " Why so ? " " It cannot be. I will not go back from my word." ■Du-y^ h^\^ "^y conscience, that speaks imperiously," said rhilip. "I cannot, I will not be driven by your obstinacy to act dishonourably, unjustly." Salome said nothing. She was startled by his vehemence, by his roughness of manner, so unlike what she had experi- enced from him. '' Very well," said he, hurriedly. «' You shall take me, and with me my share of the mill, and so satisfy every scruple. That, I trust, will content you as it does me." The girl was frightened, and looked up suddenly to see if he meant what he said. His back was toward the window. Had he occupied a reverse position she would have seen that his eyes were not kindled with the glow of love, that he spoke m anger, and to satisfy his conscience, not because he had made up his mind that she, Salome, was the only woman that could make him happy. The Rabbis say that the first man was made male-female, and was parted asunder, and that the perfect man is only to be tound in the union of the two severed halves. So each halt wanders about the world seeking its mate, and gets attached to wrong halves, and this is the occasion of much misery; only where the right organic sections coalesce is there perfect harmony. It did not seem as if Philip and Salome were the two halves gravitating towards each other, for the attraction was small, and tne thrust together came from without, was due, in tact, to the uninviting hand of Mrs. Sidebottom. '-'■ Come," said he, " I wait for an answer. I see no other way of getting out of our difficulties. What I now propose will assure to you and your mother a right in this house, and Mrs. Sidebottom will be able to obtain admission only by f. M It- '' 152 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. You refuse Accept me, your permission. Do you see ? I cannot, without a moral wound and breakdown of my self-respect, accept a share of the mill without indemnifying you, according to what I believe to have been the intentions of my uncle, to take anything to which you have not a right, and you have all that has fallen to me." Certainly Philip's proposal was not made in a tender manner. He probably perceived that it was unu.nal and inappropriate, for he added in a quieter tone, " Rely upon it, that I will do my utmost to make you happy ; and I believe firmly that with you at my side my happiness will be com- plete. I am a strictly conscientious man, and I will consci- entiously give you all the love, respect, and forbearance that a wife has a right to demand." " You must give me time to consider," said Salome, timidly. '• Not ten minutes," answered Philip, hastily. " I want an answer at once. That woman upstairs — I mean my aunt — I, I particularly wish to knock her down with the news that she is checkmated." Again Salome looked up at him, trying to form her deci- sion by his face, by the expression of his eyes, but she could not see whether real love streamed out of them, such as certainly did not find utterance by the tongue. Her heart was beating fast. Did she love him ? She liked him. Sh ^ looked up to him. Some of the old regard which had been lavished on the uncle devolved on Philip with the inheritance, as by his right, as the representative of the house. Salome had been accustomed all her life to have recourse to old Mr. Pennycomequick in all doubt, in every trouble to look to him as a guide, to lean on him as a stay, to fly to him as a protector. And now that she was friendless she felt the need of someone, strong, trustworthy and kind, to whom she could have recourse as she had of old to Mr. Pennycomequick. Mrs. Sidebottom had been hostile, but Philip had been friendly. Salome recognised in him a scrupulously upright mind, and with a girlish ignorance of realities, invested him with a halo of goodness and heroism, which were not his due. There was in him considerable self-reliance ; he was not a vain, a conceited man; but he was a man who knew his own I!.!..... riii^ iv-^OiUiv-ij' iicivi lu nia upiijiuii — mat oaiome saw, or believed she saw ; and female weakness is always inclined to be attracted by strength. Moreover, her sister Janet had been strong in expressing YES OR NO. 153 her disapproval of Philip, her dislike of his formal ways, his wooden manner, his want of that ease and polish which she had come in France to exact of every man as essential. Salome had combated the ridicule, the detraction, with which her sister spoke of Philip, and had become his champion in her little family circle. " I think — I really think," said Salome, " that you must give me time to consider what you have said." She moved to leave the room. " No," answered he, " you shall not go. I must have my answer in a Yes or a No, at once. Come, give me your hand." She hesitated. It was a little wanting in consideration for her, thus to press for an immediate answer. He had promised to show her the forbearance due to. a wife, he was hardly showing her that due to a girl at the most critical moment of her life. She stood steeped in thought, and alternate flushes of colour and pauses of pallor showed the changes of feeling in her heart. Philip so far respected her hesitation that he kept silence, but he was not inclined to suffer the hesitation to continue long. i^ove, Philip had never felt, nor had Salome ; but Philip was conscious of pleasure in the society of the girl, of feeling an interest in her such as he entertained for no one else. He respected and admired her. He was aware that she exerted over him a softening, humanising influence, such as was ex- ercised over him by no one else. Presently, doubtfully, as if she were putting forth her fingers to touch what might scorch her, Salome extended her right hand. " Is that yes ?" he asked. " Yes." " And," said he, " I have your assurance that you never go back from your word. Now," there recurred to his mind at that moment his aunt's sneer about his lack of wit in not offering Salome his arm ; " and now," he said, " let us go together and tell my aunt that you take all my share, along with me. Let me offer you — my arm." 1 fl II 154 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XXIII. EARLE SCHOFIELD. pHILIP PENNYCOMEQUICK entered the halJ. with 1 balome on his arm, but ^e instantly disengaged her hand as she saw Mrs. Sidebottom. and was consdols tha to Philip' '"""^^^'"^ grotesque in her appearance hooked on Ari^^f''^ ^^'^'P' ^.^ ^^^ ''^^" '° !°"S exposed to the petrifying dr,p of legal routine, unrelieved by a.y softening influences, that he was rapidly approaching fossilizat'on A bird's wmg. a harebell, left to the uncounteracted effect of silex in suspense, in time becomes stone, and the drudgery ot office and the sordid experience of lodging-house hfe had encrusted Philip and stiffened him in mini anVmanner He had the fee ings of a gentleman, but none of that ease which !v!^i"5'/? '°'''^^ intercourse; because he had been excluded from intercourse with those of his class, men and women, through the pecuniary straits in which his father had been for many years. bett^^^^Jh^'n'!!? ' ff^'l: ^ u'^P P'°P°'".^ '^ S^l^'"^' he knew no better than to offer her his arm, as if to conduct her to dinner or convey her through r^. crowd from the opera. hJLtAf ^^^Vu^ ^^f^ '! ^^' P'^P^^ ^°^ him to kiss his betrothed, he would have looked in the glass and called for hp?nr."^ T ■' *° T^^ ^""'^ *^^* ^'^ ^hin and lip were smooth before delivering the salute etiquette exacted hut t ^'^ A '''''! k"P ^'^4 ^' t^'^'^y ^^^d' encrusted Philip. hi^^t?plt?med."" -«^--^^y ^-g exposed to it to hav'e fornf.^H^.'^f K^' ^" °^K^' keep fresh and green in spite of the formahty of business, because they have in their homes every- thing necessary for counteracting the hardening influence or they associate with each other and run out in mild Bohemianism. fh.^^'^'^'i^^^Jf had existed, not lived, in lodgings, changing 1^^^.,^^:'^^!'^^^^^ his ifndVdy, or^hf wT K ^ qi^^"ciii:u wirxi mm. Mr. iNicholas Pennycomequick had been a grumbler, cynical, finding fault with everything and every person with which and with whom he came in contact, as is the manner of those who have failed in life EARLE SCHOFIELD. 155 »g Such men invariably regard the world of men as in league to insult and annoy them, it never occurs to them to seek the cause of their failure in themselves. Philip had met with no love, none of the emollient elements which constitute home. He belonged, or thought he belonged,, socially and intellectually, to a class sujjcrioi to that from which his fellow clerks were drawn. The reverses from which his father had suffered had made Philip proud, and had restrained him from association with the other young men. Thrown on himself, he had become self-contained, rigid in his views, his manners, and stiff in his movements. When he offered his arm to Salome she did not like to appear ungracious and decline it. She touched it lightly, and readily withdrew her hand, as she encountered the eye of Mrs. Sidebottom. " Oh ! " said that lady, " I was only premature, Philip, in saying that your arm was taken last night." " Only premature," replied Philip ; " I have persuaded Miss Cusworth out of that opinion which you forced on her when you took her arm." " She is, perhaps, easily persuaded," said Mrs. Sidebottom^ with a toss of her head. " I have induced her to agree to enter into partnership." " How? I do not understand. Is the firm to be in future Pennycomequick and Co., — the Co. to stand for Cusworth ? " " You ask how," said Philip. " I reply, as my wife." He allowed his aunt a minute to digest the information, and then added, " I am unable to ask you to stay longer at present, as I must inform Mrs. Cusworth of the engagement." " Let me tender my congratulations," said Mrs. Side- bottom ; " and let me recommend a new lock on the garden door, lest And Co. should bring in through it a train of rapacious out-at-elbow relatives, who would hardly be sati.sfied with a great coat and a hat." Philip was too incensed to answer. He allowed his aunt to open the front door unassisted. When she was gone, he said to Salome, " I am not in a humour to see your mother now. Besides, it is advisable, for her sake, that the news should be told her through you. I n »v» e*r\ *■% rxrvir^y i»ri4-l^ ♦■l'»oi4- *v> e*r\\fxt^^ T rr%/io n A« »"o Ci/n£ir4j-\f f /%tvi that I might frighten } our mother. I will come later." He left Salome and mounted to his study, where he paced up and down, endeavouring to recover his composure, doubly shaken by his precipitation in offering marriage without pre» 111 m 15C THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. II n 6. In a manufacturing district littlf- i.: thr.,.erC c h^SS'i^-lSriaistX'-si tainly liked S^lomT%K' ° ^" engagement. He cer- esteemed moreSlv M^^^ ^^^ TA^'I ^" ^"^^ ^^om he icciueu more mghly. He respected her for h^r m,-xroi .u auu aamired her ior her hpaiH^', ci,« "' 7"" •••••^«^ wwitft *-** , # EARLE SCHOFIELD. 157 That he could be happy witii Salome, he did not question ; but he war not partial to her mother, whom he regarded, not as a vulgar, but as an ordinary woman. She had not the refinement of Salome nor the vivacity of Janet. How two such charming girls should have been turned out from such a mould as Mrs. Cusworth v\ as a marvel to Philip— but then it is precisely the same enigma that all charming girls present to young men, who look at them, and then at their mothers, and cannot believe that these girls will in time be even as their mothers. The glowworm is surrounded by a moony halo till mated, and then appears but an ordinary grub, and tl.e birds assume rainbow tints whilst thinking of nesting, and then hop about as dowdy, draggle-feathered fowl. It was true that Philip had requested Mrs. Cusworth to remain in his house, before he proposed to her dclugnter : it was true also that he had asked to be received at her .'^.'Me, before he tho. J •: of an alliance ; out it was one thing to have this old CT mature iS a housekeeper, and another thing to be saddled v it', her . i mother-in-law. Moreover, it was by no means ceriji., bul v lat Mrs. Cusworth might develop new and unpleasant y- culiarities of manner or temper, as mother-in- law, which would be held in control so long as she was housekeeper, just ar> -:hange of climate or situation brings out humours and rashes which were latent in the blood, and unsuspected. Some asthmatic people breathe treely on gravel, but are wheezy on clay ; and certain livers become torpid below a hundred feet from the sea level, and are active above that line. So Mrs. Cusworth might prove amiable and common-place in a situation of subordination, but would manifest self-assertion and cock-a-hoopedness when lifted into a sphere of authority. According to the classic fable, Epimetheus, that is, After- thought, filled the world with discomfort and unrest ; whereas Prometheus, that is. Forethought, shed universal blessing on mankind. For once, Phihp had not invoked Prometheus, and now, in revenge, Epimetheus opened his box and sent forth a thousand disquieting considerations. But it is always so — whether we act with forethought or without. Epimetheus is never napping. He is sure to open his box when an act is beyond recall. In old English belief, the fairies that met men and won their love were one-faced beings, convex as seen from in ^i! 158 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m 'n I vf front, concave when viewed from the rear. It is so with every blessing ardently desired, every object of ambition. We are drawn towards it, trusting to its solidity ; and only when we have turned round it do we perceive its vanity. No man has ever taken a decided step without a look back and a bitter laugh. Where he saw perfection he sees defect, every- thing on which he had reckoned is reversed to his eyes. In Philip Pennycomequick's case there had been no ardent looking forward, no idealisation of Salome, no painting of the prospect with fancy's brush ; nevertheless, now when he had committed himself, and fixed his fate, he stood breathless, aghastigfeiirful what next might be revealed to his startled eyes. Mis past life had been without charm to him, it had inspired him with disgust ; but the ignorance in which he was, as h what the future had in store, filled him with vague apprehension. He was alarmed at his own weakness. He could no longer trust himself; his faith in his own prudence was shaken. It is said that the stoutest hearts fail in an earth- quake, for then all confidence in stability goes ; but there is something more demoralising than the stagger of the earth under our feet, and that is the reel and quake of our own self- confidence. When we lose trust in ourselves, our faith in the future is lost. There are moments in the night when the consequences of our acts appear to us as nightmares, oppressing and terri- fying us. A missionary put a magnifying glass into the hand of a Brahmin, and bade him look through it at a drop of water. When the Hindu saw under his eye a crystal world full of monsters, he put the glass aside, and perished of thirst rather than swallow another animated drop of fluid. Fancy acts to us like that inconsiderate missionary, shows us the future, and shows it to us peopled with horrors, and the result is sometimes the paralysis of effort, the extinction of ambi- tion. There are moments in the day, as in the night, when we look through the lens into the future, and see forms that smite us with numbness. Such a moment was that Philip underwent in his own room. He saw Mrs. Cusworth develop into a prodigious nuisance ; needy kinsfolk of his wife swim- ming as sponges in the crystal element of the future, with infinite capacity for suction ; Janet's coquetry break through her widow's weeds. He saw more than that. He had entered on r new career, taken the management of a thriving busi- EARLE SCHOFIELD. 159 ness, to which he had passed through no apprenticeship, and which, therefore, with the best intentions, he might mismanage and bring to failure, What if he should have a family, and ruin come upon him then ? Philip wiped his brow, on which some cold moisture had formed in drops. Was he weak ? What man is not weak when he is about to venture on an untried path, and knows not whither it may lead ? Only such as have no sense of the burden of responsibilities are free from moments of depres- sion and alarm such as came on Philip now. It is not the sense of weakness and dread of the future stealing over the heart that makes a man weak ; it is the yielding to it, and, because of the possible consequences^ abandoning initiative. With Philip the dread paF-ed quickly. He had youth,, and youth is hopeful ; and he had a vast recuperative force of self-confidence, which speedily rallied after the blow dealt his assurance. When he had recovered his balance of mind and composure of manner, he descended the stairs to call on Mrs. Cusworth. He found Janet in the room with her. Salome had retired lo her own chamber, to solitude, of which she felt the need. Philip spoke cheerfully to the old lady, and accepted Janet's sallies with good humour. " You will promise to be kind to Salome," said Mrs. Cus- worth. " Indeed she deserves kindness ; she is so good a child." " Of that have no doubt." " And you will really love her ? " " I ought to be a hearty lover," said Philip, with a slight smile, '« for I am a hearty hater, and proverbially the one qualifies for the other. Love and hatred are the two poles of the magnet ; a weakly energised needle that hardly repels at one end, will not vigorously attract at the other." " But surely you hate no one " " Do I not ? I have been driven to the verge of it to-day, by my aunt ; but I pardon her because of the consequences that sprung out of her behaviour. She exasperated me to such a degree that I found courage to speak, and but for the Rtimnius applied to me, might have failed to make a bid for what I have now secured." " I am sorry to think that you hate anyone," said the old lady. " We can not command our Hkes and dislikes, but we can hold hatred in check, which is an unchristian sentiment." i;l ;!' 160 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ** Then in hatred I am a heathen. I shall become a good Christian in time under Salome's tuition. I shall place myself unreservedly at her feet as a catechumen." "Sometimes," said Janet, laughing, •' love turns to hate, and hate to love. A bishop's crosier is something like your magnetic needle. At one end is a pastoral crook, and at the other a spike, and in a careless hand the crook that should reclaim theerrant lamb may be turned and the spike transfix it. " •* I can no more conceive of love for Salome altering its quality than I can imagine my detestation- no, I will call it . hate, for a certain person becoming converted to love." " But whom do you hate — not your aunt ? " " No ; the man who ruined my father, made his Hfe a J3urden to him, turned his heart to wormwood, lost him his brother's love, and his sister's regard —though that latter was no great loss— deprived him of his social position, threw him out of the element in which alone he could breathe, and bade fair to mar my life also." " I never heard of your troubles," said Mrs. Cusworth ; ''Mr. Pennycomequick did not speak to us of your father. He was very reserved about family matters." "He never forgave my father so long as the breath was in him. That was like a Pennycomequick. We are slow in forming attachments or dislikes, but when formed we do not alter. And I— I shall never forgive the man who spoiled my father's career, and well nigh spoiled mine." " Who was that, and how did he manage it ? " asked Janet. "How did he manage it? Why, he first induced my lather to draw his money out of this business, and then swindled him out of it— out of almost every pound he had. By his rascality he reduced my poor father from being a man comfortably off to one in straightened circumstances; he deprived him of a home, drove him— can you conceive of a worse fate ?— to hve and die in furnished lodgings." Mrs. Cusworth did not speak. She was a ' ttle shocked at his bitterness. His face had darkened as w Lh a suffusion of black blood under the skin, and a hard look came into his eyes, giving them a metallic glitter. He went on, noticing the bad ii iression he had made— he went on to justify/ him- self. " My lather's heart was broken. He lost all hope, all joy in hfe, all interest in evervthing. I think of him as a wreck, over which the waves beat and which is piecemeal broken up— partly by the waves, partly by wreckers. That •^■"-S EARLE SCHOFIELD. 161 has soured me. Hamilcar brought up his son Hannibal to swear hatred to the Romans. I may almost say that I was reared in the same manner ; not by direct teaching, but by every privation, every slight, every discouragement — by the sight of my father's crushed Hfe, and by the hopelessness that had come on my own, to swear a bitter implacable ha^v^d of the name of Schofield." "Of whom?" " Schofield— Earle Schofield. Earle was his Christian name, that is his forename. He had not anything Christian about him." Philip detected a look — a startled, terrified exchange of glances — between mother and daughter. " I see," continued Philip, '' that I have alarmed you by the strength of my feelings. If you had endured what my father and I have endured, knowing that it was attributable to one man, then, also, you would be a heathen in your feel- ings towards him and all belonging to him." The old lady and her daughter no longer exchanged glances; they looked on the ground." " However," said Philip, in a lighter tone, and the shadow left his face, " it is an innocuous feehng. I know nothing more uf the man since he robbed my father. 1 do not know where he is, whether he be still alive. Ho is probably dead. I have heard no tidings of him since a rumour reached us that he had gone to America, where, if he has died, I have sufficient Christianity in me to be able to say, ' Peace to his ashes.' ' He looked at Mrs. Cusworth. The old woman was strangely agitated, her face of the deadly hue that flesh assumes when the blood has retreated to the lieart. Janet was confused and uneasy— but that was explicable. Her mother's condition accounted for it. "Mr. John Dale !" The maid opened the door and intro- duced the doctor from Bridlington. " Mr, Dale !" Janet and her mother started up and drew a long breath — as though relieved by his appearance from a situation embarrassing and painful. " Oh- Mr F>alp> I hrwxr rrlorl hrsw Vi^or*^*'-- 'vl- J t- „ you." Then turning, first to Philip and next to the surgeon, Janet said, with a smile : " Now, 1 must introduce you. My guardian and my brother in-law prospective." i} 162 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XXIV. A RECOGNITION. JEREMIAH Pennycomequick remained quietly at his friend's house at Bridlington for some weeks. " As so much time has slipped away since your disappear- ance," said John Dale, " it does not much matter whether a little more be sent toboganning after it. I can't go to Mer- gatroyd very well just now ; I am busy, and have a delicate case on my hands that I will not entrust to others. If you can and will wait my convenience, I promise you I will go. If not— go yourself. But, upon my word, I should dearly like ta be at Mergatroyd to witness your resurrection." Jeremiah waited. He had been weakened by his illness^ and had become alarmed about himself. He shrank from exertion, from strong emotion, fearing for his heart. In an amusing story by a Swiss novelist, a man believes that he has- a iungus growing on his heart, and he comes to Hve for this fungus, to eat only such things as he is convinced will dis- z^ree with the fungus, to engage in athletic sports, with the hope of shaking off the fungus, to give up reading the news- papers, because he ceases to take interest in politics, being engrossed in his fungus, and finally to discover that he has been subjected to a delusion, the fungus existing solely in his imagination. Mr. Pennycomequick had become alarmed about his heart ; he put his finger periodically to his pulse to ascertain Its regularity, imagined himself subject to spasms, to feet stabs ; he suspected numbness, examined his lips and eyelids at the glass to discover whether he were more or less blood- less than the day before, and shunned emotion as dangerous to a heart whose action was abnormal. The rest from busi- ness, the relief from responsibility, were good for him. The even hfe at his friend's house suited him. But he did not rapidly gain strength. He walked on the downs when the weather permitted, not too fast lest he should unduly distress his heart, nor too slow- ly lest he should catch cold.' He was dieted by his doctor,, and ate docilely what was meted to him ; if he could have had his sleep and wakefulness measured as well, he would have been content, but sleep would not come when called, banished A RECOGNITION. 163 • he by thoughts of the past, and questions concerning the future. John Dale was a pleasant man to be with ; fond of a good story, and able to tell one, fond of a good dinner, and— being a bachelor— able to keep a cook who could furnish one ; fond of good wine, and with a cellar stocked with it. He was happy to have his old comrade with him ; and Jeremiah en- joyed being the guest of John Dale, enjoyed discussing old acquaintances, reviewing old scenes, refreshing ancient jokes. Thus time passed, and passed pleasantly, though not al- together satisfactorily to Jeremiah, who was impatient at being unwell, and uneasy about his heart. I At length John Dale fulfilled his undertaking, he went to Mergatroyd to see how matters progressed there. He arrived, as has already been stated, at a moment when his appearance afforded relief to the widow. He talked with Janet and Salome ; but he had not many hours at his disposal, and his interviews with the Cusworths were necessarily brief. He was obliged to consult with Janet about her affairs, and that occupied most of his time. From Salome he learned nothing concernmg the will more than what he had already heard. She told him no particulars ; and, indeed, considered it un- necessary to discuss it, as her engagement to Philip altered prospects. " But, bless me, this must have been a case of love at first sight," said Mr. Dale. " Why, Salome, you did not know him till the other day." " No ; I had not seen him till after the death of my dear uncle, but I somehow often thought of and a little fretted about him. I was troubled that dear uncle had not mad^ friends with his brother, and that he kept his nephew at arm's length. I pitied Mr. Philip before I knew him. I could not hear that he had done anything to deserve this neglect ; and what little was told me about the cause of difference between uncle and his brother did not make me think that the estrangement ought to last and be extended to the next gen- eration. In my stupid way I sometimes tried to bring uncle to another mind, and to think more kindly of them. I was so grieved to think that Mr. Philip should grow up in ignorance of the nobility and worth of his uncle's'character. Do you know— Mr. Dale- one reason why I am glad that I am going to marry Philip is that I may b ive a real right tn call Mr. Pennycomequick my uncle? Hitherto I called bim so to It! M 4 , if 164 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. If ill IE s\ Vi .r himself, and mamma, and one or two others, but I knew that he was no relation." " How about the identification of Mr. Jeremiah's body ? " asked the surgeon. " With that I had nothing to do. I was not called on to ^nve my opmion. Mrs, Sidebottom swote to it. The body wore the surtout that I know belonged to Mr. Pennycome- quick but that was all, How he came hr it I cann or explain. Mrs. Sidebottom was so convinced that Iier view was corect that she had an explanation to give why the corpse wore hardly any other clothes. I did not boli.M/t^ wLi?n ii was tound, and I do not believe now, that the body was that of uncle. -^ ''But you do not doubt that Mr. Pennycomequick is " Oh, no ! of course not. If he had been alive he would have returned to us. There was nothvng to hind-T hun from doing so." * Llothing of which you are aware." john Dale heard a favourable account of Philip from eveiy one t^> whom he spoke, except Janet, who did not ap- precuv.. fiis good qualities, and was keenly alive to his deteccf: He could not inquire at the factory, but he was a shrewd man. and he picked up opinions from the station- master, from some with whom he walk/ d up the hill, from a Mergatroyd tradesman who travelled with him in the same railway carriage. All were decidedly in Philip's favour. The popular voice was appreciative. He was regarded as a man ot business habits and integrity of character. John Dale returned to Bridlington. " News for you, old boy ! " shouted he, as he entered his house, and then looked steadily at Jeremiah to see how he would receive the news he brought. " What do you think ? Wonders will never cease. Salome " " Well, what about Salome ? " Jeremiah's mouth quivered. John Dale smiled. "Young people naturally gravitate towards each other. There is only one commandment given to men that receives general and cheerful acceptance,^ save from a few perverse creatures such as you aiiu me— and thai conmiandment is to be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth. Salome is engaged to be married. Jeremiah's face became like chalk. H'i put his hand over A RECOGNITION. 165 his eyes, then hastily withdrew it. Dale saw his emotion, and went on talking so as to cover it and give him time to master it. " I have read somewhere, that in mediaeval times in the German cities, the marriageable young men were sum- moned before the Burgo-master on New Year's Day and ordered to get married before Easter on pain of expulsion from the city. Bachelorhood was regarded as unpatriotic if not criminal. It is a pity this law was not in force here a few years ago— and that you and I were not policed into matrimony. Now it is too late ; both of us have acquired bachelor habits, and it would be cruelty to force us into a condition which we have eschewed, and for which we have ceased to be fitted." "Whom is she going to marry?" asked Jeremiah, con- trolhng his emotions by an effort. " No other than your nephew PhiHp. I will tell you what I know." Then John Dale gave his friend a succinct account of what he had heard. He told him what he had learned of Philip. •' Do you grudge her to your nephew ? " asked Dale. " I do not know Philip," answered Jeremiah curtly. " I heard nothing but golden opinions of him," said Dale. " The only person to quahfy these was that puss, Janet, and she of course thinks no one good enough for her dear sister Salome." Jeremiah's heart swelled. How easy it would be for him to spoil all the schemes that had been hatched since his dis- appearance. Philip was reckoning on becoming a well-to-do manufacturer ; on founding a household ; was looking forward to a blissful domestic life enriched with the love of Salome. Jeremiah had but to show himself; and all these plans would disappear as the desert mirage ; Philip would have to return to his lawyer's clerkship and abandon every prospect of domestic happiness and commercial success. " One thmg more," said Dale, " I do not quite like the looks of my little pet, Janet. Her troubles have worn her more than I suspected. Besides, she never had the robust- n2ss of her sister. It is hard that wits and constitution shmil^l rm *-r\ <-\r>Q ^-vf fU^i 4--,-,yit-,f^ ^-^A \, « i-U ~ ~.«-l —ill t,'-' '•'-' ^.-i^^- \Jl HJV, «.VVHJ3 aiiU ICaVC IHC (JLIJCI i>UaiillI\" provided with both." Jeremiah said no more. He was looking gloomily before him into vacancy. John Dale declared he must visit his patients, and left his friend. 6 166 THE PENNYCOMEQUKJKS. Jeremiah continued for some minutes in a brown «tudy ; and then he also rose, put on his overcoat and muffler, and went forth to the cHffs, to muse on what he had heard, and to decide his future course. The tidings of Salome's engagement were hard to bear. He thought he had taught himself to think of her no longer in the light of a possible wife. His good sense had convinced him that it would be unwise for him to think of marriage with her — it told him also that he was as yet too infirm of purpose to trust himself in her presence. Could he now return ? If he did, in what capacity ?— as the maker or marrer of Philip's fortunes? If he took him into partnership, so as to enable him to marry, could he — Jeremiah — endure the daily spectacle of his nephew's happi- ness?— endure to witness the transfer to another of that love and devotion which had been given to him ? And, if he banished Philip, what would be the effect on Salome ? Would she not resent his return, and regret that he had not died in the flood ? If he were to allow those in Mergatroya to know that he was alive it would be almost the same thing as returning into their midst, as it would disconcert their arrangements effec- tually. The wisest course for himself, and the kindest to them, would be for him to depart from England for a twelve- month or more, without giving token that he still existed, and then on his return he would be able to form an unprejudiced opinion of his nephew, and act accordingly. If he found him what, according to Dale's account, he promised to become — a practical, hardworking, honourabie'manager — he would leave the conduct of the business in his hands, only reclaiming that share which had been grasped by Mrs. Sidebottom, which, moreover, he would feel a perhaps mai'cious pleasure in taking from her. He seated hmiself on one of the benches placed at intervals on the down for the convenience of visitors, and looked out to sea. The sun shone, and the day, for a winter's day, was warm. Very httle air stirred, and Jeremiah thought that to rest himself on the bench could do him no harm, so long as he did not remain there till he felt chilled. As he sat on the bench, immersed in his troubled thoughts, a gentleman came up, bowed, and took a place at his side. '• Beautiful weather ! beautiful weather ! " said the stranger, " and such weather, I am glad to say, is general at Brid- A RECOGNITION. jqj '^''^r.^:'^^::'::^^^^^ ^^y^ - th. year and seventy-three dec mal four u/^ '^'"^' '" ^^° hundred of what we'regardTs'rad weathe^oh" HIT ^" -^-^uption murmurers we are a^ainof t f ^ ^^^* murmurers, sad so-called bad weatherTslateThl^''"'. ^'-'^^idence. The brings in a fresh sunnlv nf i^ .^ ^salubrious gases and oxygen, and the other fUcest^l'r"^ T""' ^^^^-^^^taining . Jeremiah nodded! He waTot^^ elements-elements.^ into conversation at this momen u ^^^^^^^ *° be drawn owi. thoughts. moment, when occupied with his gentl^man'^tith'^hal'tlUrn^e:'' 1'T\' ^^^--^ the Gallic tongue-the tongue r"V!;. characterizes the he ruffled and swelled and ^urnlH l^ Z ^! '^P^^*^^ ^ ^^^d turkey, and as though behev ng Iharhf ha'd'°"'^^^ " ^IT'^^ " I agree with them • I w^mM ^ u^- "^^ ^^'^ ^ good th ng. to hLlth, every cinsderlLf^''^'""*" "^"^ towers, sir. steepLs'and tea^ScoTk^ ITlTL ""^"" "^i^^ mundane con-sid-er— ation " a T ^^"""^ every other syllable apart, as though llnh' ^^ pronounced each his lips, he urned hfmsetf .r'.^ ^"^'^ ^^ ^'•^PP^d from particles, till he flce^ jtL.ah ' '^Yn'""^ ^" ,r^^°"« perceive, are in search oflhlf ' J "^"i' -^o'-^^self, sir, I Hygiene, I mean.'' ^^^ inestimable prize, health- ^nd'^looklTZTZ^^ ^^ ^h- '-dom shot, of about his own hS wi h 1 '"*''^^"*°^. ''^ «^^ ^ ^an elaborately cuded and nerhlni^H^ hair, whiskers that were handsome man but wkhTmoHl^^^^"^^ ""'^^ antimony; a to redness. There was a somi/v"^ ''t^ ^"^ ^ "°^^ ^"^""ed what, it was 1^ his 7ace- hat m^H^TJ"'""^^^^ "°"^^ "^^ ^^U the man before -or if hT h.^ ?^ "" ^- "P^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^een seen someone like him He innU T" ^"" ^"^°^^' ^e had steadily, lest he sho, M* c J^^^^"^ ^^^'" ^^ ^is face, not withal^sU'hin^l^'^^I^'o hehadTor^^^^^^^ '"' Hastily.' and rna;;^tLrt\eTeSs\'v"y^^^^^^^^^ the gentle- this bay which points it ou^t spedaHv Is ?h" ""'?" -^"^'"^^ °^ future. The iodinf- in ftJ ^P^^'^"/ f ^ the sanatorium of the reaches a per^entLe nnL. "^f ^^^'^-^^^ '-°-<^ine, sir-f percentage unattained elsewhere. It has been 168 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m analysed, and, whereas along the seaside resorts on the Enghsh Channel it is two decimal four to five decimal one ol potass, there is a steady accession of iodine in the seaweed, as. you mount the east coast -the east coast, sir— till it reaches its maximum at the spot where we now are ; where the pro- portions are ..'rnou re ;rsed, the iodine standing at hve, or, to be ex ct. four decimal eight, and the potass at three decimal two. This is a very interesting fact, sir, and a^ important as it is interesting. As it is in-ter-est-ing. The gentleman worked his elbows, as though uncomfort- able in his overcoat, that did not fit him. "The iodine is susp^r-^ ' '. the atmosphere, as also is the ozone ; but it is coucentrated in ^.!ie algae. Conceive of the advantage to humanity, and contemplate the benehcence of Providence, not only in gathering iiilo one focus the d-'^tributed iodine of the universe, but also in discovering this fact to me, and enabling me and a few others to whom I confide the secret, to realize out of the iodine, I will not say a competence, but a colossal fortune." . " And pray," said Jerrmiah, with a tone of sarcasm in his voice, " what is the good of iodine when you have it ? " " Vv hat is the good—the good of iodine ? " The gentleman turnec' round solidly and looked at Mr. Pennycomequick from head to foot. " Do vom mean to tel' me, sir, that you do not know for what purpose an all-wise Provid nee has put iodine in the world ? Why it is one of the most potent, I may say it is the only agent ior the reduction of muscular, vascular, osseous, abnormal secretions. l:'rom the way in which he employed s' ch words as vascular, osseous, abnormal and secretions, it was apparent that they gave the speaker thorough enjo} ment to use them. " For any and ev^ry form of di? rder of the cartilasanous system it is sovereigi. .,ov-»-i-eign. . , , • • "For the heart also?" asked Jeremiah, becoming inter- •ested in iodine, " For all cardiac affect' ns—supK me. It is known as yet to very few— only to such as know it throuph me— that Bnd- linf/ton is a sDot so abounding in iodine, so marked out by nature as a resort for all tho^e who -suffer from fflan a iiiar affec- tions, stiff joints, rickr . car lac inhrmities— ai d, ace rdmg to a system I am about t m pubhc— tu -ercular phthisis. He turned himseh -boui and shook hi> mouth, as shaking comfits out of a bag, " Tu-ber-cular phthi s ! " A RECOGNITION. 169 After a pause, ■^ which he smiled, well pleased with hirn- sell, lie said, " Pc, ^aps you will condescend to take my card, and If I can ukIuc you to take a share in lodinopolis/' " lodinopolis ? " '* The great sanrtorium of the future. A company is beinc formed to buy up .and, to erect ranges of beautiful marine villas to rear palatial hotels. There is a low church here already, and if we am persuade his grace the Archbishop to help us to a high church also, the place wil' be ready, the nest prepared for the birds. Then we propose .o gi e a bin-is to every physician who recommends a patient to Bridlington for the first three or four years, till the tide : f fashion has set in so strong that we can dispense with bonuses, the patients themselves insisting on being sent here. What said Ledru fr.u L .m'"/.^^, ^^^?^^ °^' ^he people, therefore 1 must whoT^'n' \"'>"^^'^ ^''""^'^ '^ ^'' Pennvoomequick, who looked at it and saw : . h . " Mr Beaple Yro, " Financier. ' Every now and then there came in the stranger's voice an ]^^ZlTV^^^ t^""^^ ^^?'^'^' *° Jeremiah ; in itself nothing decided, but sufficient, hke a scent, to recall something, yet not pronounced enough to enable him to detern.ine what it was in the past that was recalled. Again Jeremiah looked at he gentleman, and his attention was all at once directed to his great-coat. " How odd— how strange ! " he muttered. > rLf /^'i"'"' "T^^^i" '*' "^^•" ^^^^^ ^he g.^ntleman. that such a splendid opportunity of making a fortune should he a our feet-lie literally at our feet, without figure o,- 'P^^.^h-for there it is, in the sea-wc d, here it is. in the air we inhale, now humming, in the grass of the down ? Per- haps you may like." he fumbled in his great coat pocket. nin.t 1?" T' ^^'^ Jeremiah ,hat over-coat bears the himself '^ resemblance to ' but he checked .' T-r«jr" '" • \l"-^ """' "' ^'^"' ^°"^^ i'treet, said Ivlr Yeo. nnVnni ^i'''' '^ ^ prospectus. This IS a speculation on which contHh^ f capitalists may .mbark, but dso the whI ^w can contnbute her mite, and reap as they have .wn. tlu cam tallst receiving in proportion as the wid ^w, as the widow I 1^ ■! 170 THE PENNYC0MEQUICK8. myself, guarantee eighteen and a-half per cent. That I guarantee on my personal security — but I reckon that the return will be at the rate of twenty-four decimal three — the decimal is important, because the calculation has been strict." Mr. Pennyconiequick ran his eye over the list of managers. " You will see," said Mr. Yeo, '• that our Chairman is the Earl of Schofield. His Lordship has taken up a hundred and twenty shares of £10 each- the firfet call is for five slul- lings per snare." •• Earl chofield ! " murmured Mr. Pennycomequick. Earl Schofield ! Earl Schofield ! I do not know much of the peerage — not in my line — but the name is familiar to me. — Earl Schofield! — Excuse me, but there was a great scoundrel " " Hah ! " interrupted Mr. Yeo and waved his cane, " there is my secretary signalling to me from away yonder on the dunes. Excuse me — I must go to him." He rose and walked hastily away. " How very odd," said Jeremiah. '♦ I could sweai ne was in my great-coat," He watched the man as he strode away. •' And that hat- surely I know that also." CHAPTER XXV. WITHOUT BELLS. VIRGILIUS, Bishop of Salsburg, in the eighth century condemned the erroneous docrine held by some that we have antipodes. It was no doubt true that men in the Middle ages had not their antipodes, but it is certainly otherwise now. Where our fathers' heads were, there now are our feet. Every- thing is the reverse in this generation of what it was in the last. Medicine condemns those things which medicine did enjoin, and enjoins those things which were forbidden. What our parents revered that we turn into burlesque, and what they cast aside as worthless that we collect and treasure. Movimc 4-hof mr\^■^\AoA +Via o/M-irliiof in fVi£> Iqof nc^t^Qt-if «<->« 'if^ trampled underfoot in this, and principles thought immutable are broken by the succeeding age, as royal seals are broken on the death of the sovereign. If we were bred up by our fathers in high Toryism, when of age we turn a somersault WITHOUT BELLS, 171 ouf moiL'^Vu"'"' Democrats ; if we learned th. Gospel at i"ec^r.r.Lirru"s' troth '''- -^f"-^^ t^^^^Sj?'-^ : rr .a- -r''^:: t^^^ the romance of lii u T :. Carnage is the chmax of am?c^Vr?J''^ revolutionary age we have discarded the rule • wedding proceS on stmrw V T °^^"^'^ ""^ "°^^' *'"' » bridegroom as the fi,h.'„' '''"^f "l"* '^""gregate about a ...u.-.i? .7 "' .''^ '™ "5h congregate about a shin ,^n K„„^ „f check hv^lH I t corpse. But, as the author is still held in ttrn'spSt"o^:LSf L'^ ''' ^ "^'^ somewhat to the tremes. and 'nt^oducefthr' .^°"^P^°"^'ses between the ex- Tn =^ t?r 7^^^^"ce? the marriage in the middle of his tale In a novel, a marriage is alwa/s built up of much romantic iif r i |i 1 * i i ; J 1] i 172 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. and picturesque and floral adjunct. It is supposed neces- sarily to involve choral hymns, white favours, bridal veils, orange blossoms, tears in the bride, flaming cheeks in the bridegroom, speeches at the breakfast, an old slipper, and a shower of rice. Without these condiments a wedding is a very insipid dish. But here we are forced to innovate. The marriage of Philip Pennycomequick and Salome Cus- worth was hurried on ; there was no necessity for delay, and it was performed in a manner so prosaic as to void it of every feature of romance and refinement. In the parish church there was morning prayer every day at nine, and this service Salome frequently attended. On one morning — as it happened, a grey one, with a spit- ting sky— Philip also attended matins, from " the wicked man " to the final *' Amen." When, however, the service was concluded — a service attended by five Sisters of Mercy and three devout ladies — the vicar, instead of leaving the desk, coughed, blew his nose, and glowered down the chr-ch. Then the clerk began to fumble among some books, the five Sisters of Mercy perked up, the devout ladies who had moved from their seats towards the church door were seized with a suspicion that something unusual was about to take place, and hastily returned to their places. The Sisters of Mercy had with them one penitent, whom with sugar plums they were alluring into the paths of virtue. It at once occurred to these religious women that to witness a wedding would have an elevating, healthy effect on their penitent, and they resolved to stay — for her sake, for her sake only ; they, for their parts, being raised above all mundane interests. Also, the servants of the Vicarage, which adjoined the churchyard, by some means got wind of what was about to occur, and slipped ulsters over their lighr cotton gowns, and tucked their caps under pork pie hats, and tumbled into church breathing heavily. Then Philip, trying to look as if nothing was about to happen, came out of his pew, and in doing so stumbled over a hassock, knocked down his umbrella which leaned against ci LTt- rr J ciu^-t .3^ lit .3'_riiiiL_ ii V tiiiiclu c. iivt *..* i a * ? b - » • ■ »t.- - *...-.-» ^..-^ floor. Then he walked up the church, and was joined by Salome and her sister and mother. No psalm was sung, no " voice breathed o'er Eden," but the Sisters of Mercy intoned the responses with vociferous ardour, and the penitent took WITHOUT BELLS. 173 the liveliest interest in the ceremonial, expressing her interest in giggles and suppressed " Oh my 's I " ler interest Finally, after -amazement," the parson, clerk, bride and bridegroom, and witnesses adjourned to the vestry where ^he vicar made his customary joke about the lady signing he? surname for the last time. ^ ="S'""g ner The bellringers knew nothing about the wedding, and having been unforewarned were not present to ring ! peal No carnage with white favours to horses and drive^r was at the door of the church-no cab was kept at Mergatroyd-no rice was thrown, no slipper cast. 8^""yu no The little party walked quietly and unobserved back to their house under umbrellas, and on reaching home parcook of a breakfast that consisted of fried fish, bacon, ^ggs^, toast butter, and home-made marmalade. No guests v^erf p^esen ' no speeches were made, no healths drunk. There was to be no wedding tour. Philip could not leave the mill arid the honeymoon must be passed in the smoky atmosphere of ^ wSr^ '"' '^' intermission of the daTly routine As Philip walked home with Salome under the same umbrella, from the points of which the discoloured wa^er dropped, he said in a low tone to her, " I have! as you desired, offered your mother to manage her affairs for her she has accepted my offer, and I have looked through hj; accounts. She has very httle money. ^ - I do not suppose she can have much; my poor father died before he was in a position to save iny considerable oU ill • 1 'Ji^""" i'"^ ^''°",' ^"^ hundred pounds in Indian railwav bonds, and a couple of hundred in a South American loin and some ►hree hundred in home railways-abou fiteerto i^i: whliet: ••''""'^ '" '"'"""' '' '''^' ^"^ "^'^ '™- " And has it still, no doubt." ;; No; you yourself told me she had met with losses." She informed me that she had, but I cannot understand how his can have been. I doubt entirely that she met w^h But she allowed me to COOK, and she has sold out some stock— in fact between two and three' hundr^H 174 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ^1 ! ^^^ Ii •* But she has the money realized, I suppose ? " •' Not at all. It is gone' " " Gone ! " " She cannot and will not account for it to me, except by a vague explanation that she had a sudden and unexpected call upon her which she was forced to meet." " But — she said nothing about this to me. It is very odd." "It is, as you say, odd. It is, of course, possible that Janet may have had something to do with it, but I cannot say ; your mother will not enlighten me." " I cannot understand this," said Salome musingly. " I regret my offer," said Philip. " I would not have made it if I had not thought I should be met with candour, and given the information I desire." When Mrs. Sidebottom heard that the marriage had actually taken place, then her moral sense reared like a cob unaccustomed to the curb. " It is a scandal ! " she exclaimed, " and so shortly after my sweet brother's death. A bagman's daughter, too ! " " Uncle Jeremiah died in November," said the captain. " Well, and this is March. To marry a bagman's daughter in March ! It is a scandal, an outrage on the family." " My uncle would have had no objections, I suppose. Philip isias good as Mr. Baynes." " As 'good ! How you talk. Lamb, as if all the brains in your skull had gone to water. Philip is a Pennycomequick, and Baynes is — of course, a Baynes." " What of that ? " " Mr. Baynes was a manufacturer." " So is Philip." " Well, yes ; tor his sins. But then he is allied to us who have dropped an «, and capitalised a Q, and adopted and inserted a hyphen. Mr. Baynes was not in the faintest degree related to us. Philip has behaved with gross indecency. A bagman's daughter within five months of his uncle's death ! Monstrous. If she had been his social equal we could have waived the month — but, a bagman's daughter ! I feel as if allied to blackbeetles." ** Her father was about to be taken into partnership when he died," argued the captain. " If he had been a partner, that would have been another matter, and I should not have been so pained and mortifred ; WITHOUT BELLS. 175 but he was not, and a man takes his position by the place he occupied when he died, not by that which he might have occupied had he lived. Why, if Sidebottom had lived and been elected Mayor of Northingham in the year of the Prince's visit he might have been knighted, but that does not make me JLady Sidebottom." T u \°^ ^*H ^^^ ^ bagman," said Captain Lambert, " But 1 should say he was a commercial traveller." " And how does that mend matters ? Do seven syllables make a difference? A dress-improver is no other than a bustle, and an influenza than a cold in the head." •'All I know is," said the captain, "that his daughters are deuced pretty girls, and as good a pair of ladies as you will meet anywhere. I've known some of your grand ladies say awfully stupid things, and I can't imagine Janet doing hat ; and some do rather mean things, and Salome could not by any chance do what was unkind or ungenerous. I've a deuce of a mind to propose to Janet, as I have been chiselled out of my one hundred and fifty." " Chiselled out ! " "Yes, out of my annuity. If the will had been valid I should have had that of my own ; but now I have nothing and am lorced to go to you for every penny to buy tobacco. It is disgusting. I'll marry Janet. I am glad she is a widow and available. She has a hundred and fifty per annum of her own, and is certainly left something handsome by Baynes " " Fiddlesticks ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom. " I will, indeed, unless I am more liberally treated. I Hate to be dependent on you for everything. I wish I had served a caveat against your getting administration of the property, and done something to get the old will put to rights. F «^ ^w Mrs. Sidebottom turned green with anger and alarm " I will go to Phihp's wedding breakfast, or dinner, or dance or whatever he is going to have, and snatch a kiss from httle Janet, pull her behind the window curtains and propose for her hundred and fifty, I will." Lambert's mother was very angry, but she said no more. She knew the character of her son ; he would not bestir him- selt to do what he threatened. His b^rl- «,qe ,..«..o^ *.u-_ i.- bite. He fumed and then turned cold. But Philip gave no entertainment on his wedding-dav invited no one to his house ; consequently Lambert had not 176 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I m the opportunity he desired for pulling Janet behind the window curtains, snatching a kiss and proposing for her hundred and fifty pounds. " I shall refuse to know them," said Mrs. Sidebottom. •• And return to York ? " asked her son. " I can't leave at once," answered his mother. •' I have the house on my hands. Besides, I must have an eye on the factory. Lamb, if you had any spirit in you you would learn bookkeeping, so as to be able to control the accounts. I do not trust Philip ; how can I, when he married a bagman's daugh- ter ? It is a proof of deficiency in common sense, and a lack of sense of rectitude. Who was Salome's mother ? We do not know her maiden name. These sort of people are like diatoms that fill the air, and no one can tell whence they came and what they are. They are everywhere about us and all equally insignificant." Mrs. Sidebottom had but the ears of her son into which to pour her discontent, for she had no acquaintances in Mer- gatroyd. On coming there she had been met by the manufacturers' wives in a cordial spirit. Her brother was highly respected, and they hastened to call on her and express their readiness to do her any kindness she might need as a stranger in the town. She would have been received into the society there — a genial one— had she been inclined. But she was supercilious. She allowed the ladies of Mergatroyd to understand that she belonged to another and a higher order of beings, and that the days in which the gods and goddesses came down from Olympus to hold converse with men were over. The consequence was that she was left to herself, and now she grumbled at the dulness of a place which was only dull to her, because of her own want of tact. No more kindly, friendly people are to be found in England than the North Country manufacturers, but the qualities of frankness, direct- ness, which are conspicuous in them, were precisely those qualities which Mrs. Sidebottom was incapable of appreciat- ing, were qualities which to her mind savoured of barbarism. And yet Mrs. Sidebottom belonged, neither by birth nor by marriage nor by acceptance, to a superior class. She was the daughter of a manufacturer, and the widow of a small country attorney. As the paralytic in the sheep-market waited for an angel to put him into the pool, so did Mrs. Sidebottom spend her time and exhaust her powers in vain WITHOUT BELLS. 177 endeavours to get dipped in the cleansing basin of county society, in which she might be purged of the taint of trade. And, like the paralytic of the story, she had to wait, and was disappointed annually, and had the mortification of seeing some neighbour or acquaintance step past her and enter the desired circle, whilst she was making ready and beating about for an introducer. She attended concerts, public balls, went to missionary meetings; she joined working parties for charitable objects, took stalls at bazaars, hoping by these means to get within the vortex of the fashionable world and be drawn in, but was disappointed. Round every eddy may be seen sticks and straws that spin on their own axss; they make dashes inwards, and are repelled, never succeeding in being caught by the coil of the whirlpool. So was she ever hovering on the outskirts of the aristocratic ring, ever aiming to pierce it, and always missing her object. A poem by Kenrick, written at the coronation of George III., represents that celebrated beauty and toast, the Countess of Coventry, recently deceased, applying to Pluto for permis- sion to return to earth and mingle in the entertainments of the Coronation. Pluto gives his consent; she may go — but as a ghost remain unseen. Then says the Countess : — "A fig for fine sights, if unseen one's fine face, What signifies seeing, if oneself is not seen ?" So Mrs. Sidebottom found that it was very little pleasure to her to hover about genteel society, and see into it, without herself being seen in it. Her descent to Mergatroyd was in part due to a rebuff she had met with at York, quite as much as to her desire to conciliate her half-brother. She trusted that when she returned to York she would be so nmch richer than before that this would afford her the requisite momentum which might impel her within the magic circle, within which, when once rotating, she would be safe, confident of being able to maintain her place. " My dear Lamb,'' said she, " I may inform you, in the strictest confidence, that I see my way to becoming wealthy, really wealthy. There is a speculation on foot, of which I land and build a great health resort near Bridlington, to be CHikd Jodinopolis or Yeoville, the name is not quite fixed. \l 178 THE PENNycOMEQUICKS. lerence shares. I am most anxious to realize some of thp sTaJtr„v.t't ''?K '° "^ *'''°"8'' '"y darling b^oher^ SLth! •' NtrheVo't'^hrmT'" " ""^' ^^"P'^ ^-■•■ V " ■*".'^ •i'^ ?}'*'™an is the Earl of Schofield. Mr Beaole thlnk'of .Ut LlmhT'^^^Parantee seventeen pj; cent'- ininK ot that, Lamb!— on their own guarantee '—an Farl too-and the Funds are only three or three and ahalf l" ' CHAPTER XXVI. HYMEN. A TWELVEMONTH slipped away, easily, hannilv • to '^ ToZl fT 'k "'"" '° ^^'''P Pennycomeqiick.P'^ ^ ' '° wl,i;i? ,' """^ .^'""Se must seem the readiness with ^hlct; sTrnTme^n'S a't"!?- ?of ^^^"1 "'^ ^^r■^%^"'^ institution designed for the clfor oS le^ttfolZ interests of the woman. The m^rri^rl ^' "^^^^P^^"ve ot the care about his meals, theylomeToTim "hrg-'ifelTo Ihotht to his servants, they are managed for hiL \^.^ "° tnought Wheii the married man prepares to shave the soan Hi=l, findfalUn colTfu'Sof ""b ?" ''^°" '" -d™ .hVb:^ht o waf s«Ve"d™v.th^7niian.l^LrXf it'L^l^n' ^ ™°'^ succulent and well cooked. B^otc marriage tfj H """ rs'^:trofsT,'ckti''f^^'"#''"''^^^^^^^^^^^ raV^rd sh^^-f^Strran^e'l^^d^^:!?;: iron't^u.r'/f.'" njarnage everything returns in good condr„ aTd 'in 'pr^p^r But to the woman matrimony is bv no means a r„ii«f r, mtnt, °" "■%^'"""^y. 'he woman'passertl ough he r into an arena of battle. We art- fnM K„ o^^u f " .^"^ \'"M in the primitive condi .o„:f\^:<;i:'4 a^uMir "n^'^^ k^ llP^f^j l"f-!!!.°f !"-". -derto'ok to tiirth^Lrth and a7ms ani-kv=7hr;r^: cri-.rT?:^- ^^^^^^^^^^ HYMEN. 173 their services, were fed by the tillers, housed, and clothed, with food they had not grown, houses they had not builded, clothing they had not woven. The same subdivision of labour continues still in the family where the man is the tiller and toiler, and the woman is the military element. She marches round the confines of his house, fights daily battles with those foes of domestic fehcity — the servants. When they oversleep themselves, she routs them out of their beds ; when they neglect the dusting, she flies in pursuit to bring them to their duties; when they are impudent, she drives them out of the house. With what unflagging zeal does she maintain her daily conflicts. How she countermines, discovers ambushes, cir- cumvents, throws open the gates, and charges the foe ! Now consider what was the life of the girl before she married. She had no worries, no warfare ; she was petted, admired ; she enjoyed herself, indulged her caprices unres- trained, gave way to her humours unrebuked. Her bonnets, her dresses were given to her, she had no care what she might eat, any more than the lilies of the field, only, unlike them, devoting herself to the thoughts of her clothing for which, however, she had not to pay. Unmarried girls were anciently termed spinsters, and are so derisively still in the banns, for they formerly spun the linei for their fnture homes; now they toil not neither do they spm. Then comes marriage, and all is changed. They enter into a world of discords and desagrhnents. They have to grow long nails and to sharpen their teeth ; they have to haggle with shopkeepers, fight their servants ; whereas the husbands, those sluggard kings of creation, smack their hps over their dinners and lounge in their easy chairs, and talk politics with their friends, and smile, and smile, unconscious of the struggles and passions that rage downstairs. The eyes that, in the girl, looke 1 at the beauties of crea- tion, in the married women search out delinquencies in their domestics and defects in the household furniture. The eyes that looked for violets now peer for cobwebs ; that lingered lovingly on the sunset glow, now examine the coal bill ; and the ear that listed to the song of Philomel, is now on the alert \c\T a IT»Ql<i Tfi-M/-»ia \n fVi^ Yr\¥f>\\t .\. til tiir„ ri.tt'^ii\_ n. *U„4. .1.J :_i-. c iiiai ui uiu iiii.aicu the perfume of tlie rose, now pokes into pots and pans in quest of dripping. From what has been said above, the reader may conclude 1: • ri V"* ;i H fcl II 180 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. that the position of the wife, though a belligerent one, is at all events regal. She is queen of the house, and if she has trouble with her servants, it is as a sovereign who has to resist revolutionary movements among her subjects No more nrustaken idea can well be entertained. As the Pope writes himself , " Servant of the servants of Heaven," so does the lady of the house subscribe herself servant of the servants of the establishment. If she searches into their Shortcomings, remonstrates, and resents them, it is as the subject criticising, murmuring at, and revolting personally against the tyranny of her oppressors. So far from being the head of the house she is the door-mat, trampled on, kicked, set at nought, obliged to swallow all the dirt that is brought into the house. ° Marriage had produced a change in Philip. It had made him less stony, angular, formal. Matrimony often has a remarkable effect on those who enter into it. reducing their peculiarities, softening their harshnesses, and accentuatinj; those points of similarity which are to be found in the two brought into close association, so that in course of time a singular resemblance in character and features is observable in married folk. In an old couple there is to be seen occa- sionally a likeness as that of brother and sister. This is caused by their being exposed to the same caresses and the same strokes of fortune ; they are weathered by the same breezes, moistened by the same rains. In addition to the exterior forces moulding a couple, comes the reciprocal action otthe inner powers— their passions— prejudices—so thatthev recoil on each other They come to think alike, to feel alike, as well as to look alike. The man unconsciously loses some ^is/uggedness, and the woman acquires some of his breadth and strength They become in some measure reflectors to each other, the light one catches is cast on and brightens the other' "^'"°^ whatever passes along the face of the DV,r^^ subtle mysterious modelling process had begun on Phihp, although but recently married. Janet was no longer in the house; she had returned to France, and as her consti- tution was delicate, haa followed advice and gone to the South lor the winter. Mrs. Sidebottom and the captain had shaken ott the dust from their feet against Mergatroyd, and had returned to their favourite city. York, where they resumed the interrupted ■'^. HYMEN. 181 gyrations about the whirlpool of fashionable life, and Mrs. Sidebottom made her usual rushes, still ineffectual at its centre. Consequently, PhiHp was left to the undisturbed influence of Salome, and this influence affected him more than he was conscious of, and would have allowed was possible. He was very hanny, but he was not the man to confess it, least of all to hisv. !i\ As a Canadian Indian deems it derogatory to his dignity to express surprise at any wonder of civilization shown him, so did Philip consider that it comported with his dignity to accept all the comforts, the ease, the love that sur- rounded him as though familiar with them from the begin- ning. Englishmen who have been exposed to tropic suns in Africa, have their faces shrivelled and lined. When they return to England, in the soft, humid atmosphere the flesh expands, and drinks in moisture at every pore. The lines fade out, and the flesh becomes plump. So did the sweet, sooth- ing influence of Salome, equable as it was gentle, fill, relax, refresh the spirit of Philip, and restore to him some of the lost buoyancy of youth. Salome was admirably calculated to render him happy, and Philip was not aware of the rare good fortune which had given him a wife who had the self- restraint to keep her crosses to herself. That is not the way v/ith all wives. Many a wife makes a beast of burden of her husband, lading him with crosses, heaping on his shoulders not only her own, great or small, but also all those of her re- latives, friends and acquaintances. Such a wife cracks a whip behind her good man ; drives him through the town, stopping at every house, and calling, " Any old crosses ! Old crosses^! Old crosses ! Chuck them on, his back is broad to bear them ! "—precisely as the scavenger goes through the streets with his cart and burdens it with the refuse of ever\' house. Many a wife takes a pride in thus breaking the back, and galling the sides, and knocking together the knees of her husband with the crosses she piles on his shoulders. As we walk through the wilderness of life, burrs adhere to tue coat of Darby and to the skirts of Joan. Whv should not each carry his or her own burrs, if they refuse to be picked off and thrown away ? Why should Joan collect all hers and iu"'~ J 1 " '""" "^^"^ ^^ i^-aiuy, aiiu uxpeci him to work L Ttm?^" ^^^^ ^^^^ *^^ "^P^ *° *^^ h^^^ ' Little thought had Phihp how, unperceived and by stealth, Salome sought the burrs that adhered to him, removed them and thrust them ^m It 182 THK PENNYCOMEQUICKS. into her own bosom, bearing them there with a smiling face, anv TnTtLf'll ""^'^"«^'°"^that ho had been delivered from' any, and that they were fretting her. We men are sadl; regardless of * the thousand little acts of forethought that lighten and ease our course. We give no thanks we are not :;ven aware of what has been done for u. Nevertheless our wives do tiot -o unrewar, ed though un- thanked for what they have done or borne; the. gentle a" - tentions have served to give us a polish and a beaut; we ha I not before we came into their tender hands ^ A bright face met Philip when he returned from the fac- tory every day If Salome saw that he was downcast she exer ed herself to cheer h.m ; if that he was cheer7urshe was careful not to discourage him. Always neat in persmi. fresh in face, and pleasant m humour, keeping out of t ulip',; way ctuW weH^bf ""°^'^"' ^'^ "^^^ '^•"^ - happ%s"he shake off It ^^P^^' ^^'^'^ ^°"^^ ,"°' ^^^' ^^^^"'^^ ""^We to forfnn ° r f!"'^ of insecurity that attended his change of tortune. Constitutional y suspicious, habituated to the shade he was dazzled and frightened when exposed to the 1 g h t The access of good luck had been too sudden and too g ea trlnX'n ^•""^S^^^P-r-anency. The fish that has Us^aws' transfixed with broken hooks mistrusts the worm that float, down the stream unattached to a line. The expectation o disappointment had been bred in him by paXl aTd re- peated expc..:r,ce. and had engendered a sullen prede term - treachero , .^.^ddess, and when she smiled, he was sure that she medi£3tt(j ^4 stab with a hidden dagger Such as are born in the lap of fortune, from which thev have never been given a fall, or where they have never been dosed with quassia through a drenching spoon, such per on look on hfe with equanimity. Nothing would surprise them more than a reverse. But with the stSp-sons of fortune the Cmderellas in the great household of humanity, who have encountered heart-break after heart-break, it is Xrwfse tlTem'as the ".ifts^ n ^'"'" T^ °^^""^ ^'^''^^ the) nS":; hem as the g^ts of Danai. It is with them as with him whc. IS haunted. He knows that the spectre lurks at hH an when he is ahnuf fr. n\r.^r. u;„ 5 •,, , ^ "duu, and Kir« . u --r'" -" --'^^c "'= cyci>, wiu start up and scare him when he is merry will rise above the table and echo h^s laugh with a jeer. So do those who have been unlucky fear ^N ALARM. lcS3 see^ nulrTef °.?rn ''^""'^ 'P""'".^ °" ^''^'" ^^°"^ '^^^ ""^ore- been quarter at some unprepared moment. ' never wlfonvl^fphr'' '^?"^^^ ^\" ^^^"^^'^^ '" ^^^^ affairs H had ttd I tl^ ! I' ^"/^ '""^ '^' "^^'^' °« h'^ happiness, s and^n J? tl .^'^^^'^y ' . uing the requisite under- r nducfof t ''"f>"^^«'^"^ ° 'fining a rirm hold ov- the tne trade Sm;^* '''^' ?"'" 'f ^ P'""'^'' ^f dechne in become bri.kp"' conclusion of the European w.. . it had damasks H u a^^""^ ^^^ ^'^^*^^ ^ ^^'"and for figured aStssrn^hftr"a:i^^"^ *° '^^^^^ ^ ^^«-^-" ^^ -^-s' CHAPTER XXVII. ARM. WITHIN a twelvemon, A his marriage Philip had been given one of the puicst and best of the {nllfhlT mo.;irrmtfe pfoX^'sa"^ "^llJ^^^T °' ""l °' T" cannot h^™ mfde'.'hf mXs Ji^ '"" h''!'' '"'^ ^^'^ P"""''^ leaving their address RnP *^u ""'', "J""" ^"'^y «''"'°"' IB meir address. Bo Peep s sheep left their tails behind l:«:'^ ^^i MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 Uilii |5£ Li: ■ so us 3.2 4.0 1.4 II 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ APPLIED IIVMGE Inc 1653 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone (716) 288-5989 -Fax USA 184 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. them. This money ought to be accounted for. One thing I do know — the name of the person to whom it passed." " Who was that ? " " One Beaple Yeo. Have you any knowledge of the man ? Who is he ? What had your mother to do with him ? " " I never heard his name before.'' " The money was drawn and paid to Beaple Yeo directly after the death of Uncle Jeremiah. I made inquiries at the bank, and ascertained this. Who Beaple Yeo is your mother will not say, nor why she paid this large sum of money to him. I would not complain of this reticence unless she had called me in to examine her affairs." " No, Philip, it was I who asked you to be so kind as to do for her the same as Uncle Jeremiah." " She is perfectly welcome to do what she likes with her money ; but if she complains of a loss, and then seeks an investigation into her loss, and all the time throws impedi- nrients in the way of inquiry — I say that her conduct is not right. It is like a client calling in a solicitor and then refusing to state his case." " I was to blame," said Salome, meekly. " Mamma has her little store— the savings she has put by — and a small sum left by my father, and I ought not to have interfered. She did not ask me to do so, and it was meddlesome of me to intervene unsolicitsd ; but I did so with the best intentions. She had told me that she suffered from a loss which crippled her, and I assumed that her money matters had become con- fused, because no longer supervised. I ought to have asked her permission before speaking to you." " When I made the offer, she might have refused. I would not have been offended. What I do object to is the blowing of hot and cold with one breath." " I dare say she thought it very kind of you to propose to take the management ; and there may have been a misunder- standing. She wished you to manage for the future and not inquire into the past." " Then she should have said so. She complained of a loss, and became reticent and evasive when pressed as to the particulars of this alleged loss." " I think the matter may be dropped," said Salome. " By all means — only, understand — I am dissatisfied." " Hush ! " exclaimed Salome. " I hear baby crying." Then she rose to leave the room. AN ALARM. 185 •' Now look here," said Philip, " would it be fair to the doctor whom you call in about baby to withhold from him the particulars of the ailments you expect him to cure." " Never mind that now," said Salome, and she kissed her husband to silence him. " Baby is awake and is crying for me. This brief conversation will se. j to let the reader see an unloveable feature in Philip's character. He possessed a peculiarity not common in men, that of harbouring a griev- ance and recurring to it. Men usually dismiss a matter that has annoyed them, and are unwilling to revert to it. It is otherwise with women, due to the sedentary life they lead at their needlework. Whilst their fingers are engaged with thread or knitting-pins, their minds turn over and over again little vexations, and roll them like snowballs into great grie- vances. Probably the solitary life Philip had led had brought about that he had the same feminine faculty of harbouring and enlarging his gnevances. The front door bell tingled. Salome did not leave the room to go after baby till she heard who had come. The door was thrown open upon them, and Mrs. Sidebottom burst in. This good lady had thought proper to swallow her indig- nation at the marriage of Philip, because it was against her interest to be on bad terms with her nephew ; and after the first ebullition of bad temper she changed her behaviour towards Philip and Salome, and became gracious. They accepted her overtures with civility but without cordiality, and a decent appearance of friendship was maintained. She pressed Salome to visit her at York, with full knowledge that the invitation would be declined. Occasionally she came from York to see how the mill was working and what busi- ness was boing transacted. As she burst in on PhiHp and his wife, both noticed that she was greatly disturbed ; her usual assurance was gone. She was distressed and downcast. Almost without a word of recognition cast to Salome, she pushed past her at the door, entered the room, ran to her nephew and exclaimed, "Oh, Philip! You alone can help me. Have you heard? You do not know w lat has happened ? I am sure you do not, or you would have come to York to my rescue." " What is the matter ? Take a chair. Aunt Louisa." " What is the matter ! Oh, my dear ! I cannot sit, I am i > 186 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. in such a nervous condition. It is positively awful. And poor Lamb a director. I am afraid h will damage his pros- " But what has happened ? " T ",0^-e^erything. Nothing so awful since the Fire of r'^commen^d^e'd It'" ^^^^'^"^'^ ^' ^•^'^°"- ^"^ ^^^^^ booLT-''I;i^fd"ptu?p^ ^^"^ '^" *^ ^"^^^^^^^^^ *h^ " Oh, my dear ! It is always best to do business in a it^r^Hfi.r^* ^^''Tu' L^"^"'* ^^'*''"^* y°"' but I am sure thf books '^'''' '^""^ "'y "^^^"^ *° '"" ^^^°"gh •• Well and what has your agent, Smithies, done now ? " mn.i. ' ^""'^T^ h^s do"e nothing himself. Smithies is as m^tn l^U^'^'^'f ^A "^^'f',. ^"^ ^^ ^^ ^° blame for advising me to sell my bonds in Indian railways and put the money into iodine or decimals, or something of that sort, and per ?,",?u^^"'^ ^"^ become a director of the company." " What company ? " "^ ''Oh ! don't you know ? The lodinopolis Limited Liabi- iiL n^u'^l ^^ promised to be a most successful specula- n ^ni ^" ^f'^ ^^ *^^ bead. The company proposed to open quarries for stone, others for lime, erect houses a^r&:pfeto!!i!!''^^^ ^"^ ^-' -^^ ^ B-- barbou^r: " Who ? " " Beaple Yeo, the chief promoter and secretary, and trea- surer pro tern. The speculation was certain t^o bring in srve"nt^een7'^'' "'"'^ """^ ^' ^"'" ^^' P^'^°""^ security for " And have you much capital in this concern ? " ' Well--yes. The decimals grow thicker- i this oart of the coast than anywhere else in the world, , he decima? have an extraordinary healing effect in dJseas.. They are cast up on he shore, and exhale a peculiar OGour whir h is very stimulating. I have smelt the decimals mysdf-ni what am I saying, it is iodine, not decimals, but, o/my sou? I don t know exactly what the decimals are, but this I ?an tell you they have run away ^.ith some good lionev of mine " 1 du not understand yet." •' How dense j^ou are, Philip. For the sake of the iodine we were going to build a city at or near Bridlington.to whTch o..;.-^ -^._.U^ft^ THE spar:^. room. 187 all the sick people in Europe, who can afford it, would troop. There was to be a crescent called after Lamb." " Well, has the land been bought on which to build and open the quarries ? " " No, that is the misfortune. Mr. Yeo has been unable to induce the landowners to sell, and so he has absconded with the money subscribed." •' And is thert no property on which to fall back ? " " Not an acre. What is to be done ? " Philip smiled. Now he understood what Mrs. Cusworth had done with her two hundred and fifty pounds. She also had been induced to invest in iodine or decimals. " What is to be done ? " repeated Phihp. " Bear your loss." CHAPTER XXVIII. THE SPARE ROOM. t)HILIF insisted on Mrs. Sidebottom seating herself and giving him as connected and plain an account of the loss she had met with, as it was in her power to give. But to give a connected and plain account of anything affecting the interests deeply is not more easy for some persons than it is for a tipsy man to walk straight. They gesticulate in their narration, lurch and turn about in a whimsical manner. But Philip had been in a solicitor's office and knew how to deal with narrators of their troubles. Whenever Mrs. Sidebottom swayed from the direct path he pulled her back into it ; when she attempted to turn round, or retrace her steps, he took her by the shoulders — metaphorically, of course— and set her face in the direction he intended her to go. Mr. Smithies was a man in whom Mrs. Sidebottom professed confidence, and whom she employed professionally to watch and worry her nephew ; to examine the accounts of the business, so as to ensure her getting from it her share to the last farthing. Introduced by Mr. Smithies, Mr. Beaple Yeo, had found access to her house, and had gained her ear. He was a plausible man, with that self-confidence which imposes, and with whiskers elaborately rolled — themselves tokens and guar- antees of respectability. He pretended to be highly connected, and to have iniimate relations with the nobility. When he ..— LH 188 THE I'ENNYCOMEQUICKS. J: 4' di propounded his scheme and showed how money was to be nriade, when moreover he assured her that by taking part in the speculations of lodinopohs she would be associated with the best of the aristocracy, then she entered eagerly, vora- ciously, into the scheme. She not only took up as many shares as she was able, but also insisted on the Captain be- coming a director. " I have," Mr. Beaple Yeo had told her. a score ot special correspondents retained, ready, when I give the signal, to write up lodinopolis in all the leading papers in town and throughout the North of England. I have arranged for illustrations in the pictorial periodicals, and lor highly coloured and artistic representations to be hung in takin^ '"^^^ waiting-rooms. Success must crown our under- When Philip heard the whole story, he was surprised that so promising a swindle should have collapsed so suddenly. tie expressed this opinion to his aunt . I'l^^P'u ^5'"^ I^'^- Sidebottom, " you see the managers could get hold of no land. If they could have done that everything would have gone well. They intended to build a great harbour and import their own timber, to open their own quarries for building-stone, and burn their own lime and have their own tile yards, so that they would have cut off all the profits of timber merchants, quarry owners, lime burners, tile ""^uT'l^u S^^^^red them into the pocket of the comnany." And they have secured no land ? " ' "Not an acre. Mr. Beaple V eo did his best, but when he rrV. S u''''^'^ ^^i "° ^^"^' ^^^^" ^e ^a" away with the money tnat had been paid up for shares." •' And what steps have been taken to arrest him ? " " A Ti^ ^"°^^' ^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^at with Smithies." " And how many persons have been defrauded ? " " I aon t know. Perhaps Smithies does." . " This IS what I will do for you," said Phihp. " Your los^ IS a serious one end no time must be let slip without an attempt to stop the rascal with his loot. I will go at once to York, see Smithies, who, I suspect has had his finger in the pie and taken some of the plums to himself, and then on to Bridlington and see what can be done there. The police must be put on the alert." " In thxe meantime, if you and Salome have no objection, I Z\T^'''/^'f\r't^i'- Sidebottom. '' I am terribly cut up, am rendered ill. My he?;rt, you know, is subject to palpi- THE SPARE ROOM. 189 tation. When you return I shall see you directly, and learn the result." " Very well," said Philip, " stay here. The spare room is vacant, and at your service." Then he went off, packed his portmanteau, and left the house. He was vexed with his aunt for her folly, but he could not deny her his assistance. Mrs. Sidebottom shook her head when her nephew men- tioned the spare bed-room, but said nothing about it till he had left the house. Then she expressed her views to Salome. "No, thank you," she said; " '^ indeed — indeed not. I could not be induced to sleep in that chamber. No, not a hot bottle and a fire combined could drive the chill out of it. Remember what associations I have connected with it. It was in that apartment that poor Jeremiah was laid after he had been recovered from the bottom of the canal. I could not sleep there. I could not sleep there, no not if it were to insure me the recovery of all I have sunk on lodinopolis and its decimals. I am a woman of finely-strung nature, with a perhaps perfervid imagination. Get me ready Philip's old room ; I was in that once before, and it is very cosy — inside the study. No one occupies it now ? " " No, no one." "I shall be comfortable there. But — as for that other bed — remembering what I do " she shivered. Salome admitted that her objection was justifiable, if not reasonable, and gave orders that the room should be prepared according to the wishes of Mrs. Sidebottom. " A preciously dull time I shall have here," said this lady, when alone in the room. " I know no one in Mergatroyd, and I shall find no entertainment in the society of that old faded doll, Mrs. Cusworth, or in that of Salome, who, natur- ally, is wrapped up in her baby, and capable of talking of nothing else. I wonder whether there are any novels in the house ? " She went in search of Salome, and asked for some liglit reading. " Oh, we have heaps of novels," answered Salome. " Janet has left them ; she was always a novel reader. I will bring you a basketful. But what do you say to a stroll ? I must go out for an hour ; the doctor has insisted on my taking a constitutional every day." !' No, thank you," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " The wind is 100 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. i blowing, and your roads are stoned with glass clinkers ground into a horrible dust of glass needles that stab the 'eyes. I remember it. Besides, I am tired with my journey from York. I will sit in the arm-chair and read a novel, and per- haps doze." A fire was burning in the bedroom, another in the study. The former did not burn freely at first ; puffs of wind occa- sionally sent whiffs of smoke out of the grate into the study. Mrs. Sidebottom moved from one room to the other, grum- bling. One room was cold and the other smoky. Finally she elected to sit in the study. By opening the door on to the landing slightly, a draught was estabUshed which prevented the smoke from entering the room. She threw herself into a rocking-chair, such as is found in every Yorkshire house from that of the manufacturer to that of the mechanic. " Bah ! " groaned Mrs. Sidebotton, " most of these books are about people that cannot interest me ; low-class creatures such as one encounters daily in the street, and stands aside from. I don't want them in the boudoir. Oh ! here is one to my taste — a military novel, by a lady, about officers, parades and accoutrements. ' So she read languidly, shut her eyes, woke, read a little more, and shut her eyes again. " I hear the front door bell," she said. " No one to see me, so I need not say, ' Not at home.' " Presently she heard voices in the room beneath her — the room given up to Mrs. Cusworth — one voice, distinctly that of a man. The circumstances did not interest her, and she read on. She began to take some pleasure in the story. She had come on an account of a mess, and the colonel, some captains and lieutenants were introduced. The messroom conversation was given in full, according to what a woman novelist sup- ^ poses It to be. Infinitely comical to the male reader are such revelations. The female novelist has a system on which she constructs her dialogue. She takes the talk of young girls in their coteries, and proceeds to transpose their thin, insipid twaddle into what she believes to be virile, pungent English, which is much like attempting to convert milk and water into rum punch. To effect this, to the stock are added a few oaths, a pinch of profanity, a spice of indecency, and then woman is grated over the whole, till it smacks of nothing else. THE SPARE ROOM. 191 I 'if Out of kindness to fair authoresses, we will give them the staple topics that in real life go to make up after-dinner talk, whether in the messroom, or at the bencher's table, or round the squire's mahogany. And they shall be given in the ordei- in which they stand in the male mind : — I. 2. Horses. Dogs. 3. Game. 4. Guns. 5. Cricket. 6. Politics. 7. "Shop." Where in all this is Woman ? Echo answers Where ? Conceivably, when every other topic fails, she may be intro- duced, just in the same way as when all game is done, even rabbits, a trap and some clay pigeons are brought out to be knocked over ; so, possibly a fine girl may be introduced into the conversation, sprung out of a trap — but only as a last re- source, as a clay pigeon. The house door opened once more, this time without the bell being sounded — opened by a latch-key — and immediately Mrs.. Sidebottom heard Salome's step in the hall. Salome did not go directly upstairs to remove her bonnet and kiss baby, but entered her mother's room. Thereat a silence fell on the voices below— a silence that lasted a full minute, and then was broken by the plaintive pipe of the widow lady. She must have a long story to tell, thought Mrs. Sidebottom, who now put down her book, because she had arrived at three pages of description of a bungalow on the spurs of the Himalayas. Then she heard a cry from below, a cry as of pain or terror; and again the male voice was audible, mingled with that of the widow, raised as in expostulation, protest, or entreaty. At times the voices were loud, and then suddenly dro ted. Mrs. Sidebottom laid the book open on the table, turned down to keep her place. " The doctor, I suppose," she thought ; «♦ and he has pro- nounced unfavourably of baby. Can't they accept his verdict and let him go. They cannot do good by talk. I never saw anything so disagreeable as mothers, except grandmothers. What a fuss they are making below about that baby." Presently she took up the book again and tried to read, but found herself listening to the voices below, and only rarely !» 102 THK PENNYCOMEQUICKS. il; could she catch the tones of Salome. All the talking was done by her mother and the man — the doctor. Then Mrs. Sidebottom heard the door of the widow's apartment open, and immediately after a tread on the stairs. Salome was no doubt ascending to the nursery, but not hurriedly — indeed, the tread was unlike that of Salome. Mrs. Sidebottom put the novel down once more at the description of a serpent-charmer, and went outside her door, moved by inquisitiveness. •' Is that the doctor below .''" she asked, as she saw that Salome was mounting the stairs. " What opinion does he give of little Phil?" Then she noticed that a great change had come over her hostess. Salome was ascending painfully, with a hand on the bannisters, drawing one foot up after the other as though she were suffering from partial paralysis. Her face was white as chalk, and her eyes dazed as those of a dreamer suddenly roused from sleep. •' What is it ?" asked Mrs. Sidebottom again. " Is baby worse ?" Salome turned her face to her, but did not answer. All life seemed to have fled from her, and she did not apparently hear the questions put to her. But she halted on the landing, her hand still on the bannisters that rattled under the pressure, showing how she was trembling. " You positively must tell me," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " What has the doctor said ?" But Salome, gathering up her energy, made a rush past her, ran up two or three steps, then relaxed her pace, and continued to mount, ascending the last portion of the stair as one climbing the final stretch of an Alpinepeak, fagged, faint, doubtful whether his strength will hold out till he reach the apex, Mrs. Sidebottom was offended. " This is rude," she muttered. " But what is to be expected of a bagman's daughter?" She tossed her head and retreated to the study. Reseating herself, she resumed her novel, but found no further interest in it. '* Whv.' she exclaimed suddenlv. " the doctor has not been upstairs ; he has not seen baby. This is quaint." Mrs. Cusworth did not appear at dinner. Salome told Mrs. Sidebottom that her mother was very, very ill, and prayed that she might be excused. THE SPARE ROOM. 193 " Oh !" said Mrs. Sidebottom, '• I suppose the doctor call- ed to see your mother, and not the baby. You are not chiefly anxious about the latter ? ' " Baby is unwell, but mamma is seriously ill," answered Salome, looking down at her plate. " Her illness does not seem to have affected her conversa- tional powers," said Mrs. Sidebttom. " I heard her talking a great deal to the doctor ; but perhaps that is one of the signs of fever — is she delirious ?" Salome made no reply. She maintained her place at table, deadly pale ; and though, during dinner, she tried to talk, it was clear that her mind was otherwise engaged. Mrs. Sidebottom was thankful when dinner was over. " Mrs. Fhilip will never make a hostess," she said to herself. " She is heavy and dull. You can't make lace out of stocking yarn." When Salome rose, Mrs. Sidebottom said, " Do not let me detain you from your mother ; and, by the way, I don't know if you have family prayers. I like them, they are good for the servants and are a token of respectability — but you will excuse nie if I do not attend. I am awfully interested in my novel, and tired after my journey — I shall go to bed." Mrs. Sidebottom did not, however, go to bed; she re- mained by the fire in the study, trying to read, and speculat- ing on Philip's chances of recovering part if not all of her lost money — chances which she admitted to herself were remote. " There," said she, " the servants and the whole household are retreating to their roosts. They keep early hours here. I suppose Salome sleeps below with her mother. Goodness preserve me from anything happening to either the old woman or the baby whilst I am in the house. These sort of things upset the servants, and they send up at breakfast the eggs hardboiled, the toast burnt, and the tea made with water that has not been on the boil." Mrs. Sidebottom heaved a sigh. "This i stupid book after all,'' she said, and laid down the novel. '* I shall go to bed. Bother Mr. Beaple Yeo." Beaple Yeo stood between Mrs. Sidebottom just now and every enjoyment. As she read her book Beaple Yeo forced himself into the story. At meals he spoiled the flavour of her food with iodine, and she knew but too surely that he would strew her bed with decimals and banish sleep. Mrs. Sidebottom drew up the blind of her bedroom win- 1!)4 THE PKNNYCOMEQUK'KS. Ill hm (low and looked forth on the ^^arden and the vale of the Keld, hatiied in moonliglit, a scene of peace and beaiUy. Mrs. Sidebottom was not a woman susceptible to the charms of nature. She was one of those persons to whom nothing is of interest, nothing has charm, virtue or value, unless it affects themselves beneficially. She had not formulated to herself such a view of the universe, but practically it was this— the sun rises and sets for Mrs. Sidebottom ; the moon pursues her silver path about Mrs. Sidebottom ; for her all things were made, and all such things as do not revolve bout, enrich, enliven, adorn and nourish Mrs. Sidebottom are of no account whatever. Now, as Mrs. Sidebottom looked forth she saw a dark figure in the garden ; saw it ascend the steps from the lower garden, cross the lawn, and disappear as it passed in the direc- tion of the house out of the range of her vision. The figure was that of a man in a hat and surtout, carrying a walking-stick. "Well, now," said Mrs. Sidebottom, "this is comical. That man must have obtained admission through the locked garden door, like that other mysterious visitant, and he is coming here after every one is gone to bed. Of course he will enter by the glass door. I suppose he is the doctor, and they let him come this way to visit the venerable fossil with- out disturbing the maids. I do hope nothing will happen to her. I should not, of course, wear mourning for her, but for baby I should have to make some acknowledgment, I sup- pose. Bother it." Mrs. Sidebottom went to bed. But, as Beaple Yeo had disturbed her day, so did he spoil her night. She slept indif- ferently. Beapie Yeo came to her in her dreams, and rubbed her with decimals, and woke her. But other considerations came along with Beaple Yeo to fret and rouse her, Mrs. Sidebottom was a woman of easy conscience. That which was good for herself was, therefore, right. But there are moments when the most obtuse and obfuscated consciences stretch themselves and open their eyes. And now, as she lay awake in the night, she thought of her brother Jeremiah, of the readiness with which she had identified his body, on the slenderest evidence. She mipfht have irta^*^ o micfobo Thrn at once, the thought followed the course of all her ideas, and gravitated to herself. If she had made a mistake, and it should come out that she had made a wrong identification would it hurt her ? THE SPARE ROOM. 195 Oj) this followed another thought, also disquieting. How came Jeremiah's will to be without its signature ? Should it ever transpire that this signature had been surreptitiously torn away, what would be the consequences to herself? As she tossed on her bed, and was tormented, now by Beaple Yeo with his speculation, then by Jeremiah, asking about his will, she thought that she heard snoring. Did the sound issue from the room downstairs, tenanted by Mrs. Cusworth, or from the spare chamber ? Mrs. Sidebottom attempted to feel unconcern, bft found that impossible. The snoring disturbed her, and it disturbed her the more because she could not satisfy herself whence the sound came. " Perhaps it is the cook," she said. " She may be occu- pying the room overhead, ar d cooks are given to stertorous breathing. Standing over the stoves predisposes them to it." Finally, irritated, resolved to ascertain whence the sound proceeded, Mrs. Sidebottom left her bed. Her fire was burn- ing. She did not light a candle. She drew on a dressing ^'own, and stole into the study, and ti.ence through the door (which, on account ot the smoke, had been left ajar) upon the landing-place. There she halted and listened. The gaslight in the hall below was left burning but lowered all night, and the moon shone in through a window. " I do not believe the sound proceeds from the spare room," she said, and softly she stole to the door and turned the handle. " There can be no one there," she thought, " because I was offered the room, and yet the snoring certainly seems to proceed from it. No one can be there— this must be an acoustic delusion." Noiselessly, timidly, she half opened the door. The hinges did not creak. She looked in inquisitively. The blind was drawn down, but the moon, shining through it, filled the room with suffused light. Mrs. Sidebottom's eyes sought the bed. On it, where had lain the body found in the canal, and much in the same posi- tion as that had been placed there, lay the figure of a man, black agamst the white coverlet, in a great-coat. The face was not visible — the curtain interposed and concealed it. Mrs. Sidebottom's heart stood still. A sense of sickness and faintness stole over her. Slie dared not take a step fur- ther to obtain a glimpse of the face, and she feared to see it. .: I i ,, i» 196 mm ^'. THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XXIX. RECOGNITION. rpainte°/wh'.?.f^'' ^°l'i^'""h relates the anecdote of a p'ot o^btrp'arnf „r bS besTde'^it ZT:.'''"'' •-"" ^ " Please indicate faults • ' *"'' ""^ mscription, smuXed"out"':Suilfv'':s''7"''''* ■"tPi"."^' ''<= f""-"! i' marked out a blem sh^Nevtr^r'^ ^^"^ discovered and picture, with paintTnd br^sh as b^'efore .nH^h "^'"'' "' "'^ " Please indicate beauties " ' ""^ ""^ "nscnption, Every^onThlS^oind rblautTXr"'' '°'''f "'"' "'-''• detected a fault ^' "'"i^"^" Previously everyone had and''wrth"ufrvi?i:™"e"p:c"ttc'';Wcr''' '%! "'^?^^^' f°™'"' o=^^Ulh^eTorE«- ?^' "- --— of tht:to°rra°4ordi"iTo"ht''''*' '" "'^ *°''^ "' '"e author personages^ alkmore^ smttiTT"^" "'*' ''*= "''''« h*^ fust' t!; tbin-r 5"-5 .'^eaT;!lo-ae oftheordmayco,~onth'^? "'""k""= "'"^"^^nscript day ? When'we Z" J;°l t r."_^\''^!"«- P?ople evefy to us on Wednesdavs wWh ■'°i,'7 "■, * P"dding served because i, was hlXb^t because iwa^fl™' ^''i^'"^' "°' a mile between the .K^J'TVr^Z I trd'Sfe^K^I; RECOGNITION. 197 om ban mots ? Is it legitimate art, is it kind, to make the reader pursue a conversation through several pages of talk void of thought, stuffed with matter of everyday interest ? Is It not more artistic, and more humane, to steam the whole down to an essence, and then— well-add a grain of salt and apmch of spice? The reader shall be the judge. We will take the morning dialogue between Mrs. Sidebottom and Salome at breakfast. '' Good morning, Mrs. Sidebottom." " I wish you good morning, Salome." Author : Cannot that be taken for granted ! May it not be struck out with advantage ? I' I hope you slept well," said Salome. " Only so-so. How is your poor mother ? ' " Not much better, thank you." " And dading baby ?" " About the same. We have indeed a sick house. Tea or coffee, please ?" " Tea, please." " Sugar ?" " Sugar, please." " How many mps ?" " Two will suiiice." '' I think you will find some grilled rabbit. Would vou prefer buttered egg?'' ^ " Thank you, rabbit," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " I will help myself." ^ " I hope your room was comfortable. You must excuse us, we are all much upset in the house, servants as well as the rest. We have had a good deal to upset us of late, and when we are upset it upsets the servants too." Author : Now, there ! Because we have dared to copy down, word for word, what was said at breakfast, our heroine has revealed herself as tautological. There were positively tour upsets in that one little sentence. And we are convinced that if the reader had to express the same sentiment he or she would not be nice as to the literary form in which the sentence was couched, would not cast it thus—" We have been much upset ; we have had miirh nf \=tf^ ir^ rJicf„,.K ^nr equilibrium, and when we are thrown out of our balance then the servants as well are affected." That would be better, no doubt, but the reader would not speak thus, and Salome did not. 7 1 mI 198 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. The author must be allowed to exercise his judgment and not\7lZ Tl'^ °^ '^/ conversation as is n^ecelSry and coL^ruct^ons th/Tn-^ '^' grammatical slips, the Jimsy nSr^r^ers'ation!'""^ "^^^'^""^ *^^^ ^^^^^-^ -' The English language is so simple m structure that it invites a profligate use of it; it allows us to pour forth a flood to "av Th^"' ^""^ first thought out what we intended lipslfke childre'n f^r '''"'^'. higglety-pigglety from our Xshorf of. r ^^" "J^'^^y nursery-some unclothed, one short of a shoe, and another over-hatted. Do we get the Par lamentary debates as they were conducted ? Where are knows^' wh r^''^^"^'-'' '^' "I — " and";;: knows ? What has become in print of the vam repetitions and the unfinished sentences ? fs not all that putTn^o o de arUd i;?thThe%''PT^ • ^" ^'^^ "^^""- '^- novelist is armed with the reporter's powers, and exercisintr thp ^am^ discretion passes the words of his creation thougli the saSe mill. Using, therefore, the privilege of a reporter we ^^H trt\r;eTafthe^^'\Tf"'K,*^'^ ^°-" r con;erat^'n Ind Saloml ^'^^^'' '^^^' ^"'^""" ^''' ^idebottom " My dear Mrs. P.," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " I hone that you were not obliged to call up the doctor in the night^' '^'' No answered Salome, raising her eyebrows. . ?u u ^l '^ ^^^ "'^**^'' w'th your mother ? " she'hL had muc^ "fnf'"if'T ^''^'l ^^'^Plaint, and recently sne nas had much to trouble her. She has had a great shock and ,s really very unwell, and so is dear babv also a^H la^a W'' ^"'-^"'-^^^ I hard?y\nrwwh"at the cr^eam.^''''*'"'" '"'^ ^^''' ^i^ebottom ; '« you have upset Salome had a worn and scared look. Her face had In^f " My dear," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " never eive in If i had g,ven m to all the trials that have beset me Tlhoulk have been worn to fiddle-strines. Mv fir^t r»q| trial „,-"-. of Sidebottom and the serious reduction o mr^comeTn consequence: for though he called a house an wTe? he was ,n good practice. There is a silver lining to ever; doud RECOGNITION. 199 I don t suppose I could have got into good society so long as bidebottom lived, with his dissipated habits about his ' h's.' His aspirate stood during our married life as a wall between us» like that— like that which separated Pyramus from Thisbe." ^.lome made no answer. You can have no idea," continued Mrs. Sidebottom, '' how startled I was during the night by the snoring of the doctor." " The doctor ! " Salome looked up surprised. " Yes— he slept, you know, in the spare room." A rush of crimson mounted to Salome's cheeks, and then faded from them, leaving them such an ashy grey as succeeds the Alpengluth on the snow peaks at sundown. " Do you know ?~well, really, I must confess my weak- ness—I was made quite nervous by the snoring. I was so anxious, naturally so anxious for your poor dear mother, and I thought the sounds might proceed from her, and if so I trembled lest they portended apoplexy. Then again, I could not make out whence the snoring proceeded. So, being of an enquiring mind— my dear, if we had not enquiring minds we should not have made Polar expeditions, and discovered the electric telegraph, and measured the distance of the planets— I was resolved to satisfy myself as to those sounds, and I stole out of my room and listened on the landing ; and when I was satisfied that the snoring issued from the spare apartment, which I had supposed to be empty, I had the boldness to open the door and peep in.' ^' At what o'clock? " asked Salome, faintly. " Oh ! gracious goodness, I cannot tell. Somewhere in the small hours. You must know that as I looked out cf my window before going to bed I saw the doctor coming through the garden. The moon was shining, and I adore the moon, so I stood at my window in quite a poetic frame. I suppose you told him to come through the garden so as not to disturb the household." Salcme hesitated. She was trying to pour out a second cup of tea for Mrs. Sidebottom, but her hand shook, and she was obliged to set down the pot. She breathed painfully, and looked at Mrs. Sidebottom with a daze of terror in her eyes. _ n£i — j-^^i, j"i-a iin_ icujy, i saiu 1 vvuuiu nave a iiiiie more tea. Bless me! How your feelings have overcome you. Family affection is charming, idyllic, but— don't spill the tea as you did the cream." [-1 fell 200 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " It'is^rTi'^fn^'"'^!?' P°"^oVtfor yourself? • asked Salome, morning" ""^ ^""^ '^^^^'- ^ ^"^ "°* ^^^y ^^" *his draw/^^^ih^.^f ' ^' ^ "^^^ f^^"^'" P"""""^^ Mrs. Sidebottom, "as lie P""*' '"^Y ^^'•"' ^"^ ^^^^"^ J"g to herself- J was saymg, m the small hours of the night I was roused by the snoring and could not sleep. So rose Tnd opened the spare room door and looked in." ' Salome's frightened eyes were rivetted on her not see h?s fli"' ^TK '^^ ? ""^^ ^^^"^ °" ^^^ ^'^^' ^ ^^^uld n^ 1 i!. ^^i ^^^ ''"'^*^'" was in the way, and there was no light save that of the moon. At first I was frightened and inclined to cry out for sal-volatile, I was so fai^t But alter a moment or two I recovered myself This man had on r'^Afte^r fi 'r-^^^* ""'l^'J °"^- ^^ -°- bo°ts and so said ^uV^t f ?^'"? °^ ^'^""^y ^ recovered myself, for I Cus^orth IS n^' U 'fP^"^ ^" *^^ ^°"^^ '^^^a^s^ Mrs. v^usworth IS ill. It was the doctor, was it not ? " Salome's scared face, her strange manner, now 'for the shp h 'h^ 'f f r^ ^''- Sidebottom with the suspicion that she had not hit on the true solution of the mystery n^f ,UA ^°°^"^^s gracious me ! " she exclaimed, " if it was -Ison th°.?r' ^^° '^"^^ '' ^' ■ ^"^ ^" t^-^ house at nigh -as on that former occasion-and when Philip is absent, too '' ' Salome started from her seat. ^^^MT T:" !u^ T^' ^^'^'^y^ " ^ ^^^-^ ^^^ "nweii.- bhe tottered to the door. Mrs Sidebottom, with kindled suspicion, rose also and after hlr ^" ""^"^^Ij^:! ^^^ -"d some'^butte^ed toast io go nZ u ^^"".T .^^^ °P^"^^ th^ door and passed through. ^rlZlll\l7^'^ '^r. '' ^^^"^ ^^^' Mrs. Sidebottom hTd Slhl nee'dld Idp'" '^^^^' ^^^'"^ '^ ^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ^"' a mtn*!^^'^"'^ """Tl^"* ^^^^ ^°^h ^"t^red the hall, they saw a man descending the stairs, a man in hat and great-coat with a leather bag in one hand and a cane in the other He r/Lshesro/r^; '"'J^' ^^^^ ^^^^^^-^ cuned, tut not in ''Mr 111 V ,"'' u °'? ^.^^ '"^' ^"d his fa^e "bottled. Mr. Beaple Yeo!" shrieked Mrs. Sidebottom " Mv money ! I want-I will have my money ! " ' 1 « rt itood for a moment irresolute on the stairs. TU^^ ^ 1 : '"""'^"i iiicaumie on tne stairs. .nr. "i! - u^^ *"'"^^ *" the front door lock, and Philip appeared from the street-returned by an early train. ^ EXEUNT. 201 •♦ Oh, Philip ! " screamed Mrs. Sidebottom. " Here is the man— Beaple Yeo himself! Has been hiding in the spare bedroom all night. He has my money." In an instant, the man darted into Mrs. Cusworth's room, and locked the door behind him. CHAPTER XXX. EXEUNT. THE man descending the stairs had hesitated, and his hesitation had lost him. Had he made a dash at Mrs. Sidebottom and Salome, swept them aside and gone down the passage to the garden door, he would have escaped before Philip entered. But the sight of Mrs. Sidebottom, her vehe- ment demand for her money, made him turn from her and fly into Mrs. Cusworth's room. Thence he, no doubt, thought to escape to the garden, through the window. For some moments, after Philip appeared and Mrs. Side- bottom had told him that the swindler was in his house, all three— he, Salome, and Mrs. Sidebottom, stood in the hall, silent. Then a servant, alarmed by the cry, appeared from the kitchen, and Philip at once bade her hasten after a policeman. Salome laid her hand on his arm and said, supplicatinglv, "No, Philip; no, please!" . ^ But he disregarded her intervention, and renewed the command to the servant, who at once disappeared to obey it. Then he strode towards the door leading to Mrs. Cus- worth's apartments, but Salome, quick as thought, threw herself in his way, and stood against the door, with outstretched arms. " No, Philip ; not— not, if you love me." " Why not ? "—spoken sternly. " Because " She faltered, her face bowed on her bosom ; then she recovered herself, looked him entreatingly in the eyes, and said, " I will tell you afterwards— in private. I cannot now. Oh, Philip— I beseech you ! " " Salome," said her husband, very gravely, " that man is in there." •' I know, I know he is," she answered, timorously. " Oh, Philip, don't mind her. He will get away, and he has my money ! " entreated Mrs. Sidebottom on her part. ■ ■1 i i i' 1 202 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. aHo;^rto1sc:pe''°" "^^^ Will you not trust me ? Do Shi Jlf ftTn!^! exclaimed Philip, in such a tone as made her sniver, it e. pressed so much mdignation. but IooWph"!^ ?^ "? "!?!'^ ^" "/?^"^^ °^ ^J^^t she had asked, Mrc Q f K !1" '^^^^'^y ^'^^ ^^'^ S^-^^t imploring eyes, of ^'Xf^^^^^'f"''^^''''''''^^''''^ but poured in SdLharge :L;i"?^Vsaid"^^ '"^ ^'^^* '^ ^^'^^P' -^- ^--"S The' i[n3"^'^ ^Tk !u^"^^ ' ^^^ scoundrel cannot escape. Jround Sonr u ^^^^ '°r' ,^^^ ^^"^^' because on the ground floor. He cannot break forth. I have him as in a hllS" J^ "jerely a question with me-which my wife must tm^h^", "''tTrL*'"*^"" '° ^''^^ °P^" th^ door n^ow or wa till the arrival of the constable." Then Salome slowly, and with heaving breast, and with- Vf'^'Iu^'. ^y^^ °ff ^^' husband's face, let fall her Trms and stood back. But even then, as he put his foot against the sa?;: ^TL'r^^'^l'f against ^Mrs. SitooTom Vnd We me-not she ! " °' '^^''^' '^ ^^^ '""^"^ ^^ ' ^^ y-^ m.P^S ^^ ^""""^"^ ^"^ '^^d *° Mrs. Sidebottom : - Aunt I tSnn. r" *°,r"'^^'^ 'V^^ ^^"- ^Vhen the maid rings the front door bell, open and let her and the constable in and enTe? before/' '"' "'° ""''' ^"^"°^^^'^ apartm:nts;' D^ not He did not burst open the door till he had knocked thrice and his knock had remained unnoticed. Then with foot and shoulder against it he drove it in, and the lock t^rn off feH on Hnnr r^ i"«*^"*^y ^alome entered after him and shut the door behind her, and stood against it. PK-r 1 "i"^ suspicion, sullenness, and doggedness which Phihp had xiurtured in him through long years of disco,7riLp ment and distress, evil tempers t^hat hfdTeen aid To L^^^^ for a tTvelvemonth, rose full of enerev to life aero in So ^ -g-^datthe thought that the Sh whoThe was pTr' 7^^f t''f^^■ ^^""^ '^^r [^^"^^ ""d^'- ^"« own roof aL worst of^ll, that his own wife should spread out her arms to prXt The hero of a story should be without blemishes th^t take from him all lustre and rob him of sympatTy ButJhe EXEUNT. 203 IS made her reader must consider these evil passions in him as bred of his early experience. They grew necessarily in him, because the seed was sown in him when his heart was receptive, and rich to receive whatever crop was sown there. And again, we may ask : " Is the reader free from sevil tempers, constitu- tional or acquired ? " The history of life is the history of man's mastering or being mastered by these ; and such is the his- tory of Philip. In the sitting-room stood a scared group, looking at one another. Mrs. Cusworth by the fireplace, pale as chalk, hardly able to stand, unable to utter a word of explanation or protest, and Beaple Yeo, with his hat on, wearing a great coat that Philip knew at once — that of his deceased uncle, holding a leather bag in his hand, to which a strap was attached that he was endeavouring to sling over his shoulder, but was incommoded by his cane, of which he did not let go. His face was mottled and his nose was purple — but he had not, like Mrs. Cusworth, lost his presence of mind. Philip looked hard at him, then his face became hard as marble, and he said, " So — we meet — Schofield." The man had forgotten to remove his hat when attempt- ing to put the strap over his head, and so failed ; he at once hastily passed the cane into the hand that held the bag, and said with an air of forced joviality, as ^e extended his right palm, " How d'y do, my boy, glad to see you." " Put down that bag," ordered Philip, ignoring the offered hand. " Or, here, give it me." '• No, thank y, my son ; got my night togs in there — comb and brush and whisker curlers." " Schofield," said Philip, grimly, • I have sent for the constable. He will be here in two or three minutes. Give me up that bag. I shall have you arrested in this room." " No, you won't, my dear boy," answered the fellow. «' But, by jove, it isn't kindly — not kindly — hardly what we look for in our children. But, Lord bless you ! bless you the world is becoming frightfully neglectful of the commandment with promise — with promise, my son." The impudence of the man, his audacity, and his manner, worked Philip into anger ; not the cold bitter anger that had risen before, but hot and flaming. "Come, no nonsense. Give me that bag now, or I'll take It from you. There is a warrant out for your arrest as Beaple Yeo." He put his hand forward to snatch the bag from the 204 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m s^lck^und. ^^'^^^ ^^^-°^ Schofield-quickly brought his this tlfa^ ^r^nn " '"'i^"' ;*"^ "^^^ • I have a needle in are my son!" '"" ^'" '^""^"^^ '^ ^^^ ^^"^^ me-though you placed i/'beS v''^ ^i?'' ^'•^"^hed the stick from him and in sLnce fhTln '''' ".">? !!? '"<' ^chofield faced each other fact the iZ^'f^'V'^ ^.^^u°H^ ' " ™y <='"><='< h^s told you the fi,o D^ ^ ^^^ Schofields are a family as eood' a^ ^o . Upon my word there would be something un-Chn^Hpn arrested hpne=Thr * son-in-law to suffer his father to be £ l^tr^r Ir-^lor Vt w?uttardrJ:l!7o t;i ft^- \f ""^^"^^^ ' ^'""^ "^^^ed "P With Beapfe Yeo Esauire thaTst 'o'?'t"h,''"'"~^"" know-Iinjure, coiSpromTse a^d aH tnat sort of thmg— you understand " true or.:£a'i::r' '° ''"■ ^""™'"' ^"<' =^^'''=d ker. "Is it nn^n."!? ^''^ "'"^ 'j'''' 'Y^'^ '" "<> Condition to answer Sh- s^ndistdTrrAeMpf " "' ""^ " ^-P^"« fi^^-^- - It is'"fnd"ee'd ire': '"H^ltyZZTr' *"'."'''' " ^''"■P ' trst--d%o-d-S|?^-^^.fpsy^^^^^ man Schofield. She took u; 'shernd fefr gLl hus^and^ nof herchild^en"' Thl?"' °™-."^ "i'" "<" knol°hat wf ^^re children-that we were her nieces-we were not told.'' EXEUNT. 205 " Is this really true ? " asked Philip, again looking at Mrs Cusworth and his face clouded with the Wood that s"^^^^^^^ d;rken:d r "Tfw '^ '^^" *!^^* '' '^'^ "°* colour it only f n C! f^- '^*^'^ true-or is it a lie told to persuade me qurnces of his'acts.-'' "'" '"' ''" ^^^'^ ^° ^"^^^ '"^^ -"- Again Mrs. Cusworth tried to speak, but could not She grasp^ed at the mantelshelf ; she could hardly stay hersdf from -Very well," said Philip, looking fixedly at Schofield 'Let us suppose that it is true ; that I have been trifled with deceived, dishonoured. Very well. We will suppose k ^ so Then let it come out . I will be no party to lying, diss muh ' t.on to the screening of swindlers and scoundLs^if anTsort' My house is no a receiving house for stolen goods I w i I H?nd i^Vt'hVbt^'^ ^'" ''^'''' ''-' '^'^ bfentespLred" eye had no yielding in it, no li|ht, only a son Jf phosphores^ cent glimmer passing over it. He stooped, picC up the cane, and held it in his right hand, like a quarter-staff and in his firm, knotted fist, cane though it was Jt had he appear emphfsis "^ '"'"P"" ^^P^'^^^^ ^^^"^ used w/th d^^adly "Now then," said Philip, - put down that bag • there on the chair near me. Instantly." ^ ' ^' °" .hPv''^ Ti?^"^- ^°°^^^ ?*° ^'' ^"^^^ ^"^ did not venture to dis- W ^A /^^.^''°" resolution, the forceful earnest, the remorse less determination there were not to be trifled with Scho" field put down the bag as desired "The key." " Pick it up." Schofield hesitated. He would not stoop. He dreaded ;, „ 1 f ----r"=^M ^^^n a uiuw Ub lie WOUia llimself rfcal *k^ ^r:^ot:]":^iL'l'j' ^ -''-' '- H-shanCanT/oLI^'di^: As he hesitated, and a spark appeared in the eve of Phil,.. Salome stooped, rose, and L„ded'^?he key to herTusband '^' 11 206 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. He did not thank her. He did not look at her. He kept his eye steadily on Schofield — scarcely glancing at the bag as he opened it, and then only rapidly and cursorily at its con- tents — never for more than a second allowing it to be off his opponent, never allowing him to move a muscle unobserved, never to frame a thought unread. But, for all the speed with which he glanced at the contents of the bag, he saw that it contained a great deal of money. It was stuffed with bank notes, and the figures on these notes were high. Philip leisurely reclosed and relocked the bag, put the key in his pocket and passed the strap over his own head. Then only did a slight, almost cruel smile, stir the corners of his lips as he saw the blankness of Schofield and the break- up of his assurance. " Now, I suppose, I may go ? " said the rogue. " No," answered Philip, " I do nothing by half. I have my old scores against Schofield as well as the new scores — which are not my own — against Beaple Yeo." " But," said the man, in a shaking voice, " it will be so terribly bad for you to have the concern here mixed up with me — and you should consider that the Bridlington scheme was a famous one, and was honest as the daylight. It must have rendered twenty-fiv^per cent. — twenty-five as I am an honest man — and I should have become a millionaire. Then wouldn't you have been proud of me, eh ? — it was a good scheme and must have answered, only who was to dream that no land could be bought ? " He eyed Philip craftily, then looked at the door, then again at Phihp — as soon expect to find yielding in him as to see honey distil out of flint. So he turned to Salome. " Speak a word for your father, child ! " he said in a low tone. Salome shrank from him and turned to Phihp, who put out his steady hand and thrust her back, not roughly but firmly, towards Schofield. Then in a sudden frenzy of fear and anger the fellow screamed, *' Will you let me pass ? " '* The constable will be here directly, and then I will ; not till then," said Philig^ " Bah ! the constable ! " scoffed Schofield. " You have sent to have a constable summoned. But where is he ? Looking for a policeman is like searching for a text. You know he's somewhere, but can't for the life of you put your thumb on KXEUNT. 207 -i i liirn. Look here, PhiJip," he lowered his voice to a sort of whine, " I'm awfully penitent for what I have done. Cut to the heart, gnawing of conscience, and all that sort of thing. It IS a case of the prodigal father returning to the discreet and righteous son, and instead of running to meet me and help me, and giving me a good dinner— a good dinner, you know, and all that sort of thing, you threaten me with con- stables and conviction. I couldn't do it myself. 'Pon my word I couldn't. I suppose it is in us. I'm too much of a Christian— a true Christian, not a mere professor. I'm ashamed of you, Philip ; I'm sorry for you. I sincerely am. I'm terribly afraid for you that you are the Pharisee despising me the humble, penitent Publican." The fellow was such a rascal that he could adapt himself to any complexion of man with whom he was, and he tried on this miserable cant with Philip in the hope that it would succeed. But as he watched his face, and saw no sign of alteration of purpose in it, he changed his tone, and said sullenly, with a savagery in the sullenness : " Come, let me go ; if I am brought to trial, I can tell you there will be pretty things come out, which neither you nor your wife will like to hear, and which will not suffer her to hold up her head very stiffly — eh ? " He sav^^ that he had made Philip wince. At that moment the house door-bell rang, and he heard that the police-constable had arrived. He turned, went to the fireplace, grasped the poker, and swinging it above his head rushed upon Philip. Salome uttered a cry. Mrs. Ciisworth's hand let go its grasp of the chimney piece and she fell. All happened in a moment— a blow of the poker on Philip's arm— and Schofield was through the door and down the pas- sage to the garden. " Run after him, policeman, run ! ' screamed Mrs. Side- bottom, as she admitted the constable. But Schofield had gained the start, and when the police- man reached the door in the wall of the lower garden he found it locked, and had to retrace his steps to the house. Time had been gained.^ No sooner was Schofield outside the garden than he relaxed his steps, anc^auiitered easily along the path till he reached the canal. We followed that till he arrived at a barge laden with coal, over the side of which leaned a woman, with a brown face, smoking a pipe. " My lass ! " said Schofield. " I've summat to tell thee— m I: u*-. ■ *J 208 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. The woman, Ann Dewis, slowly drew her pipe out of her 'TLT^ ":T/'''^^r *° '^^ ^^''^' l°°ked in. and said Whath. t lad? Eh, Earl. ? Tha'rt come. Tak' f pine Uekept .t aleet a these years. Ah said a would and a7ve CHAPTER XXXI. ESTRANGEMENT. then, again,^ — ONE! Two! Three! Hark ! on the church bell One ! Two ! Three ! -It is a woman or a little girl," said those listening. Then again,— = One! Two! Three! nM ?' ^r""^"' -^1° ""^V^^ ^^ ■ ^^o is ill ? But-how old ? Then, again, the bell— One ! Two ! Three ! Up to forty-six. " Aged forty-six ! Who can it be ? " . ^^7- /^ces appeared in the windows and doors of the street at Mergatroyd, and when the sexton emerged frorn the belfry, he was saluted with enquiries of, " Who is dead ? Forty-six years old— who can she be ? " ' " Mrs. Cusworth. Dropped dead with heart complaint." Now. m Yorkshire, when a man dies, then the bell tolls Four, four, four; when a boy, then four, four, two; when a woman dies, then as above. Thrice three ; and when a^rl sticL^' saS Mrs^?:?"hr^ '^^ "'^* ^f^" "^"' '^ '^ fidS" sticks, said Mrs. Sidebottom, impatiently. She waq in fK^ study with Philip. ;. I never h^ard^of anyt^hing so mons rous so inhuman I could not have believed it of you. And yet- after what I have seen, I can believe anything of you '• Philip was unmoved. "The plunder of that wretched fellow, he said unconcernedly, •' si all be place J7i the proper hands, Hovv^uch there is J c^-.rv.t pQ,„ . !.. L!, t do not know how rifany persons he has aofrauded and^ta what an extent Whether all will get back eve ythiig is no? pr/t?bu\C':^^ ''-' ""^ ^^^^^^'^ ^ ^^^^' perLps^afargl ESTRANGEMENT. 209 •• It is preposterous ; " burst in Mrs. Sidebottoni. •' I have been the means of catching hir^ No one would have had a fanhing bac' but for my p l rrr 'itude, my energy and my cleverness, uid not I track .i..n here, and act as his gaoler, and drive him into a corner whilst you secured the money? And you say that I am to share losses equally with the rest ! No such a Hiing. I hall have my money ' ack in full ; and the rest ma^ make the best of what remains, and thank me for getting them that. As for what you say, Philip, I don't care who hears mt , I say it is fiddlesticks — it is fiddlestick- ends." " I should have supposed, Aunt Louisa, that by this time you would have known that when I say .i thing I mean it and if I mean a thing I intend to carry it out unaltered." Then, after a pause, " And now I am sorry to seem inhospitable, but under the painful circumstances — with death again in th^s house, and with my child ill, I am obliged to recommend yo' to return at once to York, and when there, not again o con suit Mr. Smithies. It is more than probable that this i liable man of business of yours, whom you st t to watch me, has sold you to that rascal Beaple Yeo — or whatever his name be." ••Oh, gracious goodness?" exclai.ned Mrs. Sidebottoni. " To be sure I will return to York. 1 wouldn't for the world incommode you in a house of mournin}. I know what it is ; the servants off such heads as they ha\ ■, which are heads ol hair and nothing else, and everything ii confusion, and only tongues going. I wouldn't stay with yoi at this most trying time, Philip, not for worlds. I shall be oli by the next train." Philip was left to himself. His wife was either upstairs with the Iiaby, or was below with the corpse of one whom she had look d up to and loved as a mother. Surely it was his place to ^o to her, draw her into the room where they could be by them elves, put his arm about her, and let her rest her head on hij- breast and weep, to the relief of her burdened heart. But Philip made no movement to go to. h s wife. She was alone, without a friend in the h« use. Her sister was away, her baby was ill, A death ent ils many things +1-.04- u^,,^ *„ u« — _«;j 1 1 1 _ ;j~J T-»i-M!_. iiia.1. lidvc i\j uc V-U1131UC1CU, aiian^cu iiiiu p ;viucca. iriiiiip kne\/ this. He sent word to the registrar c the death ; he did nothing more to assist Salome. He rang the bell, and when after a long time a servant replied to the summons, he gave orders that clean sheets should be put or the bed lately 'I 210 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Slp^the/e • ""^^''°"°"'- "^ -""'• - sa,d, for a infinite desolation at night °f he w^„^ , ''"' '?'«'" f«<=' Philip. Thefilto her moth " li°''Z '" ^'' ^^'^"""^ "-''h arrival of the doctor th^rnf''^^ ''^°''" '° ""^^"'^ "fe. 'he finally submitted llhathfrwas'^xt.wf''^,'' ^^'""* *"" and engrossed all her fac. L, Th l''^'^,''"""""'^**'' death w'as again in tttuTtiJe%"rL:^Z'^!,lT, '^^^ ledge many miperious duties that exaSed o^f Zt^i / , ''"°™- tion and much thouirht Mr= SL 1 A , ^?'°'"e full atten- help. Upon Salomfeverythinf depTdTd 'ir'" "r^-^ T time to consider how Philin w^„i^1 i .u "^ ""^ "°' 'he tion made to him Salon iw^. "'"' '^^ ^'^^'ins revela- emotion. She bmced herself foTt, "IJ" '? *^'™ "P '"^'•^elf to that devolved on her 0,,L , discharge of the duties went about the house Frot' ,h ^ P^'*" ^"'^ """ow-eyed, she nurse had escaped, desert?n^ the^h"^,.'^" ^?""'^ '''^' 'he over the events Jha^ haTSrre'd i'fh'e Wtfh^'^ Tlf" '^l'' b:rg%tdtt'd™t^'e\t^''^"-:7p V-^'"« -^^^^^^^^^ <alk aboutTor^'ake the beds hvl"" ''^1 f?""" '"° """=h to Only, when everything' ufh^ho^se tad 'be '"^ ''''""°°"- 'ren-^rr^o^ft^em^-i-r t^^' 'S^" '^^ and write to her strrSrcoCmrrol' '^^'"'"^ ^'^ <'°- ^rS:^ ^brt^i t^r^TefLr T? r-^-"^ - gentle tap at the door He wl? k ^^^'''^. ^^' ^^^^^"^^ and no one eL. .nAltZ'^,..^- ^"^"^ ^^^ ^^P' '* ^^^ like that of '« M„ ,4r ""'" L ^°^^^," ^" "er to enter. you befLt'i ht: had'^'rJlu^h T^h'^^" 5^^^ ^^ ^^^ ^- wanted to speak ?o you hntT. ^^^^ '' ^"^^-^ear, I have P aK lo you , but, as yon know, m such a case as ESTRANGEMENT. 211 this, personal wants must be set aside. Have you any stamps ? I require a foreign one." He hardly looked up from the desk, but signed with the quill that she should shut the door. He was always some- what imperious in his manner. She shut the door, and came over to him, and laid the letters on his desk. " You will stamp them for me, dear ? " she said, and rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. Then she saw how stern and set his face was, and a great terror came over her. " Oh, Philip ! " she said ; and then, " I know what you are taking to heart, but there is no changing the past, Philip." Sometimes we have seen the reflection of the sun in rippled water out of doors sent within on the ceiling. How it dances ; is here and there ; now extinct, then once more it flashes out in full brilliancy. So was it with the colour in Salome's face ; it started to one cheek, burnt there a moment, then went to the temples, then died away wholly, and in another moment was full in her face, the next to leave it ashy pale. Her voice also quivered along with the colour in her face, in rhythmic accord. Philip withdrew his shoulder from the pressure of her hand, and slowly stood up. " I shall be obliged if you will take a chair," he said, form- ally, " as I desire an interview, but will undertake to curtail it as much as possible, as likely to be painful to both." She allowed her hand to fall back, and then drew away a step. She would not take a chair, as he had risen from his. " Philip," she said, " I am ready to hear all you have to say." She spoke with her usual self-possession. She knew that they must have an explanation about what had come out. There was always something in her voice that pleased ; it was clear and soft, and the words were spoken with dis- tinctness. In nothing, neither in dress, in movement, nor in speech, was there any slovenliness in Salome. There was some perceptible yet indefinable quality in her voice which at once reached the heart. Philip felt this, but put the feeling from him, as he had her hand. *' Salome," said he, not looking at her, except momentarily, " a cruel trick has been played on me." " Philip," said she, quietly but pleadingly, " that man, as I told you, is my father, but 1 did not know it till yesterday. I had no idea but that I was the daughter of those who had i il2 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. «i PaSs Tw^fl'^if"'' "H" S?ve themselves out to be my He-l'mean tha "^r" T*!?' ' ^"T' *"" ">" ^^ "<" """^h^ sister ofher who if S^ "!?"'!? ">" '"°"'"> «'''° «-« the My real mother grieved at the shame dTed and left usfX; toor.'h': .° ™" f ^^' ^r^^""^' ^'- Cus^orth, cheerfully under l-^ZrZ^tt' """ °' '^nowingthat^rfat'hel hadte ,' ship a terrible accident happened and he wa^ kniln t .' and I do not remember him Since then IL t J^"^* aunt-she was in great straits to know what to dT ^h^A^ went awav TW ^ u I ^ ^^^® ^^^ money and he wen about Jhirh ^""7 ^^' two hundred and fifty pounds Xch she was afraTnf ^'^ '° '"""^^ ^"^^'^^"^ and^bout Mv father h^H I. ^°"i enquiring too much about. Phihp hastily raised his hand. Mrs. Sidebottom had hit the ri^hf n.ii ^. .u. u._^ :.. , Salome, who had^^l^^s^Jd VfhlTet^^^t^^^^^^^^^^^^^ i ESTRANGEMENT. 213 to be my not much, lo was the able some- iit it was I e country, ' England. : us to her illy under- ivhen they ■ children, ■ had been from his more to jfore Mr. ) partner- d. Janet —I mean ear, kind, us I have vhom we '. Then, of Uncle appeared It he was :d money an, really She did suffered loor, and and he ^pounds id about 1 about, le Yeo. It which told her d ill her then he ain, and ind had stopped, resumed what she was relating. " Mamn a heard nothing more of him after that till yesterday, when he re- appeared. He was, he said, again in trouble, which meant, this time, that he must leave the country to avoid imprison- ment. But he was not in a hurry to leave too hastily, he would wait till the vigilance of the police was relaxed, nor would he go in the direction they expected him to take. He had come, he said, to ascertain Janet's address. He intended, he said, to go to her. My mother refused to give it. I trust she remained firm in her refusal, but of that I am not sure. He said that if I had not been married he would have carried me off with him ; it would not be so dull for him if he had a daughter as a companion. Janet knew about him and her relationship to him. I did not. When he came here first of all, Janet was in my mother's room, and the matter could not be concealed from her." " Do you mean seriously to tell me that till yesterday you were ignorant of all this ?" "Yes." " Ignorant when you married me that your name was Schofield and not Cusworth ?" " Of course, Philip ; of course." She spoke with a leap of surprise in her tone and in her eyes. It was a surprise to her that he should for a moment suppose it possible that she was capable of deceiving him, that he could think her other than truthful. " Then at that first visit you were told nothing; only Janet was let into the secret ?'" " Yes, dear Philip." " What ! the giddy, light-hearted Janet was made a confi- dante in a matter of such importance, and you, the clear of intellect, prompt in action, close of counsel, were lei', in the tlark ? It is incredible."' " But it is true, Philip." Thereupon ensued silence. She looked steadily at him with her frank eyes. " Surely, Philip, you do not doubt my word. Mamma only told Janet because the secret could not be kept from her. At that time my sister slept in mamma's room, and spent the greater part of the day with her, so that it was not possible to keep from her the sudden arrival of — of him." She shud- dered at the thought of the man who was her father. She put her hands over her face that burnt with an instantaneous " '! 214 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m H u\ f?Rf; but withdrew them again directly, to say vehemently, QiT 1 ' , !i P' ^""^^^y '* ""^""o* t.e. You do not doubt me ? '' bne looked searchmgly at him. '' Me ' " mov"d in tt^^ "° '^^^^' "'" ^^""^ "^^^ '^*- ^°* ^ "^"^^^^ ,n il' ^^u"'P : " ^'i^ ^u ^'^' "^^^b ^ ^^*^b °^ pain-a sudden spasm n her heart and throat. " Philip, the sense of degradation that has come on me smce I have known the truth has been W^^f r"T *^/" ^ "?"^^ ^^^'- ^^' because of myself. What God sends rne that I shall find the strength to bear. I am nobody, and if find that I am the child of someone worse than nobody-I must endure it. What crushes me is the sense of the shame I have brought on you, Phihp, and the sorrow that a touch of dishonour should come to you through me. But I cannot help it. There is no way out of it. It has come to us without fault of ours, and we must bear it- bear It together. I "-she spread out her hands-" I would lay down my life to save you from anything that might hurt R?; puV""?^^ ^"^^ y^"' P^°"^ ^"d honourable spirit. J^ut, Phihp, I can do nothing. I cannot unmake the fact tnat 1 am his daughter and your wife." " I shall never, never forgive that the truth was kept from -ibe"iarriage was a fraud practised on me." " My dear mother-you know whom I mean-acted with Ipeakin ^' *"*'-'"*'°"'' ^ut I cannot excuse her for not " Janet knew, as you tell me, and she said nothing " ' Mamma urged her to remain silent." M was sacrificed," said Philip, bitterly. "Upon mv word, this is a family that transmits from one generation t"o another he fine art of hoaxing the unsuspicious." , ,u ? r • ^ """^^ °^ indignant blood mantled her face, and hen left it again. She heaved a sigh, and said, " If I had known before I married you whose daughter I was I would on no account have taken you. I would have taken no honest man for his own sake, no other for my own " - You know what Schofield was to me-to me above nw7 ""t"' [ ""T ^^^a" when I told you and Janet and your mother how he had embittered my life, how he had ruined my father— and you all kept silence." " Philip, you are mistaken, I never heard that." "At a 1 events your mother and Janet heard me-heard me when they knew I was engaged to you, and they told me JMb>$ ESTRANGEMENT. 215 nothing. It was infamous, unpardonable. They knew how I hated that man before I was married. They knew that I would rather have become allied to a Hottentot than to such as one as he. They let me marry you in ignorance — it was a fraud ; and how, I ask," he raised his voice in boiling anger, " how can I trust you when you profess your ignorance ? "' He sprang to his feet and walked across the room. " I don't believe in your innocence. It was a base, a vile plot hatched between you all, Schofield and the rest of you. Here am I — just set on my feet and pushing my way in an honest business, and find myself bound by an indissoluble bond to the daughter of the biggest scoundrel on the face of the globe.'" Salome did not speak. To speak would be in vain. He was furious ; he had lost his trust in her. She began to tremble, as she had trembled when Mrs. Sidebottom had seen her on the stairs — a convulsive shivering extending from the shuddering heart outwards to the extremi- ties, so that every hair on her head quivered, every fold in her gown. " And now," pursued Philip, "the taint is transmitted to my child. It might have been endurable had I stood alone. It is intolerable now. These things run in the blood like maladies." She was nigh on fainting, she lifted one hand slightly in protest ; but he was too angry to attend to any protest. " Can I doubt it ? The clever swindler defrauded my father, and the clever daughter uses the inherited arts and swindles the son. How do I know but that the same false- hood, low cunning, and base propensities may not Inrk inherent in my child, to break out in time and make me curse the day that I gave to the world another edition of Beaple Yeo, alias Schofield, bearing my hitherto untarnished name ? " Then she turned and walked to the door, with her hands extended as one blind, stepping slowly, stiffly, as if fearful of stumbling over some unseen obstacle. She went out, and he, looking sullenly after her, saw of her only the white fingers holding the door, and drawing it ajar, and trying vainly to shut it, pinching them in so doing, showing how dazed she was — instinctively trying to shut the door, and too lost to what she was about to see how to do it. i\ I i. T t- 216 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XXXII. THE FLIGHT OF EROS. T"?/""^ral of Mrs. Cusworth was over. \xru ''""^^ w^^e drawn up at last. When the service at the grave was concluded, Philip and frn^'v V"?u'^ '.° '^^'' ^°"^^' ^^ that may be called home from which the elements that go to make up home- trust sympathy, pity, forgiveness- have fled. ^ ' . Ihe sun streamed in at the windows, broke in with a rude imi^atience. as the blinds mounted, and revelled on the floos agam and reflected itself in glass and gilding and ch^na brought out into bloom again the faded flox?ers on the carpets' dLc ip's onThe'' 'r'"^^^ "^ ^°^^.^ ^"^ J^^--^"- -"non- P?ete?ce orbelifty P''"' '"''"' °" ''"'^ ^°^°"" ^"^ hea^fof^Phil7rfLTQT'^^"t'^'^^"'^"^ ^"*° the shadowed ihu 1? 1^5 P ^'^'^ Salome, because over both the hand of Phihp held down the blinds. Philip, always cold, uncommunicative, allowing no one to lay finger on his pulse, resenting the slightest allusion f o h s life apart from business-Philip had made no friend "n Me ! of re%n-r.^ ^ acquaintances-drew closer about him tie folds At one time much fuss was made about the spleen but we have come now to disregard it, to hold it as some hing notTo our^pt^n:' "''' ^ '"^ '''^^^P ^^^^^^^^ *he heart af we do class^and Ztl '"'P^^,*^^' ,^"t ^as not popular with his own a iveL of hi '",fP^"i^^' b"t not popular, among the oper- atives of his mill Some men, however self-contained are w^^Thmr " '^"'' '''" concealment. lo u'wi: Shrewd public opinion in Mergatroyd had gauged and weighed him before he supposed that it 4s concS abou^ him. It pronounced him proud and honest and ran^lX throufifh inte^ritv nf r^urr-r..^ ^f ^Hn^ " " ,' ^"^ capable, thincr' Ho Ur^Au " i"^!"— . "^ uOing a cruel, even a mean, orcfs w^ch^l^f " ^'°"?^' "P y^^"^* ^^^"^ those modifying bv nnn^?'? ^^' or ought to aflfect, the conduct governed by principle. Principle is a good thing as a direction of the course of conduct, but principle must swerve occasionally to il ^ THE FLIGHT OF EROS. 217 save it from becoming a destructive force. In the solar system every planet has its orbit, but every orbit has its deflections caused by the presence of fellow planets. Philip as a child had never lain with his head on a gentle bosom, from which, as from a battery, love had streamed, enveloping him, vivifying, warming the seeds of good in him. He reckoned with his fellow-men as with pieces of mechanism, to be used or thrown aside, as they served or failed. He had been treated in that way himself, and he had come to regard such a cold, systematic, material manner of dealing with his brother man as the law of social life. That must have been a stiange experience— the coming to life of the marble statue created by Pygmalion. How long did it take the veins in the alabaster to liquefy ? How long before the stony breast heaved and pulsation came into the rigid heart ? How long before light kindled in the blank eye, and how long before in that eye stood the testimony to perfect liquefication, a tear ? There must have been in Galatea from the outset great deficiency in emotion, inflexibility of mind, absence of impulse ; a stony way of thinking of others ; an ever-present supposition that everyone else is, has been, or ought to be — stone. , Philip had only recently begun to molhfy under the influence of Salome. But the change had not been radical. The softening had not extended tar below the surface, had not reached the hard nerves of principle. In the society of his wife, Philip had shown himself in a light in which no one else saw him. As the sun makes certain flowers expand, and these flowers close the instant the sun is withdrawn, so was it with him. He was cheerful, easy, natural with her, talked and laughed and showed her attentions ; but when he came forth into the outer world again he exhibited no signs of having unfurled. Now that his confidence in his wife was shaken, Philip was close, undemonstrative, in her presence as in that of his fellows. He was not the man to make allowances, to weigh degrees of fault. Allowances had not been made for his shortcomings in his past life, and why should he deal with Salome as he had not been dealt by ? Fault is fault, whether in the grain or in the ounce. When Philip said the prayer of prayers at family devo- tions, and came to the petition, " Forgive us our trespasses. tm} Mi \ fi i I, , I I^^B fl ' ^1 s 218 THE PKNNYCOMEQUIOKS. ^^IZJStLctZ t' a'^^^P^-^^- ='«t^' "^•■' he had no migenerous ' ' " '"'^P"^'°" 'hat his conduct was bore"„Vm!re a^±T(Verfor , """''''!,' ^^ '"^^ave her. He ready ,o make h?r a' al owanclof fT"""^ ^'"'^ "^ ^'^ clothing, and f^o for nnrtl^ „ ■ ^'*° ?•*■■ ^""""n '°^ her ■11. he wiuld call°n a sner,»lL? *"" S™"^'. ^''""'"^ ^^^ f^ll wanted to re-furn sh ,h. J ' "'«''"^'^f°' expense; if she .he cost, ^^o'u[c"' a' ^Tn t raS;r do' auTllfs ""' F^^ ^r>ZV:::^St'""'l "r"'d''n'J,t't'a'Lh"eTea'd! kiss th^; tea s om he "^vt"' C°^th ""=1 ^°lt" ''"'• ^"^ Heaven to pet and moll vcnddiriT ? K''"' "°' ^^^ "f he did forgive Salome ^^''^ '"'"' ""'^ '" ^°'e"<' him, and shefeltWntylheTost of\er who^f'^/h'" ''^^'"°"'- ^ "•^* sentative of all mlfpr.t,?, i '"'^ '"^^n to her the repre- was natural andfnevilweR'f' '""' <^°"^'deration. That some such partings is the^l! Tu^""^ ^^' '° """J^go must accon^i^odatf he^sdf o .erle°reav"emrnt'' A"' ^^T^ she was without an intimat,. frmn 1 , J ^ "*= ^*" 'hat could pour out her herrf if ,'''" ?''"='=• '° *hom she then, he also hid beenlriendrel flT^" '"""^ '=°""'^«' • t""' a friend and to vahfe h^ ™ ' '" ^'= '='""^ "°' '» --equire apprecate, sh'e^ruf LatTdrfi' '^''^' "^ '^'' -' becauserwas'offendeT witif r^"? "'1 '" ='«°"y °f "•^"'1 regret Shp l,°.H j '' '"''' • '"" 'his afforded him no consequences I, w"as a l.'®""f '"'" ^'1'' ""^' accept the with punrshment and fLr "^ "^'"'e 'hat sin should meet as his due Wh;t were fhi ' ""'" '"""'■P' his chastisement the weight of herlrrnsgres'si^T^"'"'^'^'" ™"P"'^°" -''" 'hetH^g^feUl^Jie'dhed °" ;vhich he t,ed travellers, and ,f i'ies ; bul if 'hey were shon«' hf t ^i"^ '^eir extrem- equal it. Philinh=Tv ,' ,hc had them stretched to extended hhn eff and tL' Z" .^"^ °' ffT'^'P'^' ™ ^-^ch he suffering wife "^is he would fit his poor, tender, hardirs;oTe' ^ta^r:;;;eroVr '':;r "i^'e'r^^rr^' '•'^^ sne was crying, because she continually put her THE FLIGHT OF EROS. 219 i had no duct was her. He He was Ti for her i she fall e ; if she t grudge niess he ler head, air, and t ask of lim, and sr ; that e repre- 1. That undergo Salome aw that lom she el ; but require did not f mind him no ^pt the d meet sement •n with and if xtrem- Sied to lich he ender, il they v^as on ppeal. ut her 1^ kerchief to her eyes. Tears are a matter of course at funerals, as orange blossoms are a concomitant of weddings. Mrs Cusworth. though not Salome's mother, bad stood to her for eighteen years in the relation of one ; tears, therefore, thought Philip, were proper on this occasion— very P^^^\ He did not blame her for crying— God forbid ! For his own part, Philip had regarded Mrs. Cusworth with dislike ; he had seen how commonplace, unintellectual a woman she was; but it was of course right, quite right and proper, that Salome should see the good side of the deceased. Phihpwore his stereotyped business face at the tunerai. the face he wore when going through his accounts, hearing a sermon, reprimanding a clerk, paying his rates. He was somewhat paler than usual, but the most attentive observer could not say that this was caused by feehng and was not the effect of contrast to his new suit of glossy black mourning. Not once did he draw the little hand on his arm close to his side and press it. He let it rest there with as much mditler- ence as if it were his paletot. xv u- i 4- v. On reaching the house, he opened the door with his latch- key, and stood aside to allow Salome to enter. 1 hen he followed, hung his hat on the stand, and blew his nose. He had avoided blowing his nose at the grave or in the street, lest it should give occasion to his being supposed to attect a grief he did not feel ; and Philip was too honest to pretend what was unreal, and afraid to be thought to pretend. He followed Salome upstairs. On reaching the landing where was his study door Salome turned to look at him before ascending further. Her face was white, her eyes red with weeping. Wondrously beautitul in colour and reflected light was her ruddy gold hair bursting out from under the crape bonnet above her pallid face. She said nothing, but waited expectantly, with her brown eves on his face. He received the look with imperturbable self-restraint, opened his door, and without a word went into his study. , , , r -4. „„^ Salome's bosom heaved, a great sob broke from it , and then she hastily continued her ascent. She had made her Mrs. Cusworth had died worth an inconsiderable sum, and that she had left to Janet, as more hkely to need it than Salome. . . ^u i ,4 And now that the last rites had been paid to the kind- 220 THK P£NNYC0ME(i(;iC'K8. i tt ^^lol^ts^^^^^^^^ won.an who had loved forth upon .t. unrvided'the nch to"rr^^^^^^^ ^« Po- t.nged with blood from a woundedL^rt "' ^^''' ^"''^'"^ relatiSro7which ?S!]n'td' ''' '" ."^^"^^ ^"^ in human themotherand the babe aL"''''' ^h°ught-that between mother reacted, revenged it.^If "T ^'^t-.^'-^"^ done to the had been ailing fcraXle no ?k^'' '^■^'^- ^^^ ^'^^^^ «"« strain to which SalomP h;.! r '* ^""^"'^ '^'"'^^^ly ^^1- The weak frame of the nf^nt ?haf l" ^""l V"^^ ''''^^^^^' '" ^^e would allow no orfe to n" rs^ her 7^- '° u'' ^''^^''- Salome precious life was n danger" ^n Wk ''T,^"* ^^''"^^ ^^'l^t its allow no one else to t^ou^h i % t 1.7"^^'."" ^*^ P^^^' demanded of its mother ;..fi-. sobbed and cried and rocking in her arms and ^ ^'^'""' ^ ^""^ ^^'^' ""^^^"ed kisses.^and nTanvTears worl'T-'°. ^''' .^^"^^'^ thousand devo.^'ed Tn o her":/:: ''tH ''^ ^^^.^"?^^ ^^^ ^^'^^ thoughts, was by her child she di 1 lotZ't'l' 'rV' "'^^^ ^^^^"^- by its crib, sometmes taking f^nnh f ' '^' f^' '" ^^'^ ^^^"^ when it was composed to J^P^.n ? ' ^-^P' '" ^^' ^^'"^' ^hen, She heard every S of ?heLlTT '' ^^u^'" ^" '^« ^^^^le. not sleep, she cLldtrwIt^h'^d ^iT' ''"''• '^" ^^"^^ He^troTbrth^crTdir^P '""^ '° ^"^^^ ^^^ ^- child and looked at the flushedl.'" J^,' '^.'"P"^^' '^^^^'' ^^^^P^d but, when .t was on Sa on -''^ '''"'.'' '^"'^'• come so near, he stood aoart IL . ^'!' f "'^ ^^^ ^'^ not child himself, asked about .> I i '"'^^^^ °^ examining the giving way to feeW hl^.. "'' '°"*'°^^^^ ^^^^^^^^ which sheeted, fmpi^^^^^^^^ Phll^r >k V,^^^^°"^^*^"^^ ^ith got over all other tToub es exceo 7hJ! '^' ''^Tu'^'^l '^' ^^^ Illness ; and were this toLlTthi, u ""^^'^."^ ^^ *^^ child's ^ But. through alfhVrl^^ugh^for the'ctld '' '.Tf ^^^^"• torturmg recollection of whTphSin h.H i^" ^ ^"'"^"^' She was not sure th.t h- d^^^- - ^aid concerning it. THK FLIGH 1 OF EROS. 221 clay was beginning to break raw ar '1 rey in th. east, and to look wanly in through the blind . the sick. )onn— T ilip entered. Salome was kneeling by the crib — a swing crib oi wood on two pillars. She knelt by it, she had been rocking, rock- ing, rocking, till s.'ie could no more stir an arm. Aching in all her joints, with her pulses hammering in her weary brain, she had laid both hands on the crib side, and her brow against it also. Was she asleep, or was she only fagged out and had slidden into momentary unconsciousness through exhaustion of power ? Her beautiful copper hair, burnished in every hair, reflected the light of the lamp on the dressing-table. On one delicate white finger was the golden hoop. She did not hear Philip as he entered. Hitherto, whenever he had come through the door, she had looked up at him wistfully. Now only she did not, she remained by the crib, holding to it, leaning her brow on it, and tilting it somewhat on one side. He stood by her, and looked down on her, and for a while a softness came over his heart, a stirring in its dead chambers as of returning life. He saw how worn out she was. He saw that she who had been so hearty, so strong, in a few days had become thin and frail in appearance, that the fresh colour had gone from her cheek, the brightness from her eye, that the sweet dimple had left her mouth. He saw her love and self-devotion for her child, the completeness with which her soul was bound up in it. And he saw how lonely she now was without her mother to talk to about the maladies, the acquirements, and the beauty of her darling. She did not glance up at that moment, or she would have seen tones of melting in his cold eye. He remained standing by her, and he looked at the child now sleeping quietly. It was better, he trusted. It could hardly be so still unless it was better. Then, all at once, Salome recovered consciousness, saw him, and said, " Oh, Philip, you do not want him to die ? " Philip drew himself up. " You have the crib too much tilted," he said. He put his hand to it to counterbalance her weight, but she raised her head from the side and the crib righted itself. He still kept his hand where he had placed it, without any reason for so doing. '• Philip," she said again, with passionate entreaty in her voice, " you do not wish my darling to die? " 1 I'l , •f ' 222 THE PENNYC0MEQUICK8. •• How can you ask such a foolish question ? " he answered. " I am afraid the long night-watching has been too much for you." •• Oh, Philip — you do love him ? You do love him — although there is something of me in him. But " she said hastily, " he is mostly yours. He is like you, he has dark hair and eyes, and his name is Philip, and of course he », he is a Pennycomequick ! Oh, Philip ! You love him dearly !" *• Of course 1 love him ; he is my child. Why do you doubt ?" " Because," she said, *• I — I am his mother. But that is all — I am only a sort of superior nurse. He is a Pennycome- quick through and through, and there is no— no — nothing of what you dread in him." •* Yes, he is a Pennycomequick." •' He can, he will be no other than a good and noble man. He can, he will be that, if God spares him." '• So I trust." •• Oh, Philip— he is better, so much better. I am sure there is a turn. I thank God — indeed, indeed I do. Look at his dear little face ; it is cool again." He had his hand on the side of the crib, and he stooped to look at the sleeping babe. And, as he was so doing, Salome, who still knelt, put her lips timidly to his hand and kissed it — kissed it as it rested on the side of her babe's crib. Then he withdrew his hand. He took his kerchief out of his pocket, wiped it, said coldly, " Yes, the child is better," and left the room. Philip went to bed. He had not asked Salome if she were going to rest, he had not called up the nurse to relieve her, though he saw and admitted that she was worn out. He had withdrawn his hand from her lips not with intention to hurt her, but to show her that he was opposed to sentimentality, and not inclined to be cajoled into a renewal of confidence by such arts. That which angered and embittered him chiefly was the fact that he was tied to a woman of such disreputable parentage. Then, in the next place, he could not forgive the fraud practised on him in making him marry her in ignorance of her real origin. He did not investigate the question whether Salome was privy to il. He thought that it wa& hardly possible she could have been kept in complete ignorance of the truth. It was known to her sister. Some suspicion of it at least must have been entertained by her. A fraud, a scanda- 1% EXILE. 223 lowi one, had been perpetrated — on her own showing by her sister and reputed mother — and even supposinj^ she were not guilty of t-Ving share in it, she must reap the consequences of the acts o; ner nearest relatives. Mrs. Cusworth and Mrs. Baynes were beyond the reach of his anger, therefore it must fall on the one accessible. Salome had acquired by marriage with him a good position and a comfortable home, and it was conceivable that for the sake of these prospective advantages she would have acquiesced, if not actually concurring, in the wretched mean plot which had led to his connection with her — the daughter of the most despicable of men, and his own personal enemy. PhiHp went to bed and fell asleep, satisfied with himself that he had acted aright, and that suffering was necessary to Salome to make her feel the baseness of her conduct. Salome finding that the child fretted, took it out of the cot, drew it to her bosom, and seated herself by the window. She had raised the blind and looked out at the silvery morning light breaking in the East, and the pale East was not more wan than her own face. When Psyche let fall the drop of burning wrax on the shoulder of Cupid, the god of Love leaped up, spread his wings and fled. Psyche stood at the window watching his receding form, not knowing whither he went, but knowing that he went from her without prospect of return. So now did Salome look from the window gazing forth into the cold sky, looking after lost love — gone,— gone, apparently, past recall. CHAPTER XXXIII. EXILE. DAYS passed, and the house had settled into formal ways. The meals were at the usual hours, to the minute. Philip went to the office at the usual time, and at the usual time returned from it ; everything had again entered into its routine as before. But the relations between husband and wife were not improved. They met at meals, rarely else. At •.?.ijiC a conventionai conversation was rriaintaincu. Philip occupied his bachelor apartments and expressed no intention of leaving them. Beyond the formal inquiries after Salome's health in the morning, he took no interest in her condition of 224 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. mind and body. He did not perceive that she still suffered, was becoming thin, pale and worn. He could not have invented a more cruel torture than this daily life of chill intercourse between them, and Salome felt that it was becom- ing insupportable. She attended to the household duties. She looked after his comforts, saw that his room was properly dusted, that his papers, his books were always in the same place, that his clothing was in order, that strict punctuality was observed in all that concerned him — he accepted this as of course, and was unaware that every element that conduced to his wellbeing was not present naturally. He did not know that his wife entered his room when he was away and recti- fied the little neglects and transpositions of the housemaid ; he did not know how much time, and how many tears were given to his shirts and his socks and collars. He was una- ware of the patient consideration devoted to the dinner, to ensure that he should have an appetizing meal after his work in the office during the day. He did not entertain the suspi- cion that the regularity of the house was only effected by constant urgency and supervision. That there was a change in the relations of Philip and his wife did not strike the outer world, which had not been invited by him previously to consider the nature and close- ness of those relations. In the presence of others Philip was courteous and formal towards his wife now, but he had been courteous and formal towards her in public before. He had not called upon the neighbours and acquaintances to rejoice with Iiim because he had found domestic happiness, he did not invite them now to lament with him because he had dis- covered it to be chimerical. He refused to Salome none of those attentions which are required by common politeness ; what she missed were those which spring out of real affection ; his behaviour to her in public was unchanged, and he carried this manner into his private interviews with her. Such interviews were now brief and business-like. He no longer spoke to her about what was past, he never referred to her father. He never allowed her to entertain the smallest hope that his behaviour would change. Philip rarely spoke to a servant, never except on business; and he was surprised one day when the nurse ventured to intrude on his privacy and ask leave to say something to him, Philip gave the required permission ungraciously. Z?M. *^-. EXILE. 225 sars were Then the woman said, '• Please sir, the missus be that onconsiderate about hersen that she'd never think o' teUing nobody about nowt that was wrong with her. And so, I dare say, you don't know, sir, that it is not all well wi' her. Shoo has sudden faintive's, and thev come on ow'er often. Shoo makes light o't, but don't better of it. I sed to her, shoo ought to tell you, but shoo wouldn't. And, please sir, shoo's a good missus, and too precious to be let slip through the fingers for not looking after what's amiss 'i time. So— sir— I've made bould to say a word about it.'" Philip was surprised, even shocked. " I will see to it," he said, and then, " That will do." He took occasion to speak with Salome about her health, and- now his eyes were opened to see how delicate she had become. She admitted her fainting fits, but made light of them. " I have been overtaxed, that is all, Philip. I shall soon be quite myself again." " You have had a good deal of anxiety, no doubt, and that may account for it. Still— it will be a satisfaction to have an opinion. Do you care for Mr. Knight ? " " Oh, no, Philip— he is very clever, but too young. 1 should not like to have Mr. Knight here about me. But I assure you it is nothing !— I maan there is nothing really the matter with me. It used to be said that I kad all the physique of us two sisters, and Janet all the verve.'" " I wish you to have proper advice. You understand, I wish it." •' Then, Philip, I will let anyone you like come and see me, or I will go to anyone you recommend." " I have no knowledge of doctors," he said almost con- temptuously. " If I might have a choice— ' she hesitated. " Of course you may— -in reason." "There is Mr. John Dale; he was dear Uncle Jeremiah's best friend, and he is Janet's guardian. I always liked him, and he knows about us sisters. Besides I do want to see him and ask what he thinks about Janet ; but he is a long way off, he is at Bridlington. If you think it would be extravagant sending so far, I would go myself gladly and see him. Indeed iouu IC_> iilc " Very well,'" said Philip, " I will telegraph for Mr. Dale." " And then," added Salome, " if you do not object, he can overhaul baby and see that the darling is sound as a bell. i :! lil II 226 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. But — there is no need at all to telegraph. I know quite well what is the matter with me. It is nothing that any doctor can cure." .'•What is it?" " I have had a good deal to worry me, to make me unhappy. I cannot sleep, I am always thinking. I can see no way out of the trouble. If there were the tiniest thread to which I could lay hold, then I should soon be well — but there is none. It reminds me of what I have read about the belief the North American Indians have concerning their origin. They were, they say, once in a vast black abyss in the centre of the earth, and there were tmy fibres hanging from the roof, and some of them laid hold of these fibres, and crawled up them, and following them came to ^he surface of earth and saw the sun, but others never touched a depending thread, and they wander on in timeless darkness, without a prospect, and without cognisance of life." "Well—" " And I am like these, only with this pang that I have been in the light. No — there is no fibre hanging down for me." She spoke timidly, and in a tone of half enquiry. He did not answer. " Philip, you must believe my word when I say that I never knew till the night before you heard it, that I was not what it had been given out I was." " We will not debate that matter again," said PhiHp sharply. " It can lead to nothing." " There is then no fibre," she said sadly, and withdrew. John Dale arrived, bluff, good-natured, boisterous. "Hallo! what is the matter with yju?" was his first salutation ; and when he had heard what her ailments of body were — she made light of them to him — he shook his head and said bluntly, " That's not all — it is mental. Now, then, what is it all about ? " " Mamma was taken suddenly ill and died ; it was a dreadful shock to me. Then baby was unwell, and I had to watch him night and day ; he would let no one else be with him." " But the expression of your face is changed, and neither \r\t' l-*ot-vi? V» * ri r\r\A . .rvf ..,,.,. . , . _ _ trouble. A doctor is a confessor. Then she told him — not all, but a good deal. She told him who she was, and how she had discovered her origin — that. Come, what is up ? " 1 ^L |l_ _ nd neither EXILE. 227 that her f ther was the man who had started the swindle about londinopoHs, but that Beaple Yeo was not his real name ; he had assumed that in place of his true name, Schofield." " What— the scoundrel who did for Nicholas Penny- comequick ? " Salome bowed her head. " I see it all," said Dale. " I never met that fellow Schofield, but I knew Nicholas Pennycomequick, and I know how he was ruined. I had no idea that the fellow Yeo, whom I met at Bridlington, wat. the same. Now, my dear child, I understand more than you have told me. 1 shall not give you any medicine, but order you away from Merga- troyd." " I cannot — I cannot leave baby." " Then take baby with you." Salome shook her head. She also saw that nothing would do her good save an escape from the crushing daily opprestion of Philip's cold- ness, and stiff courtesy. A day or two later she received a letter with a foreign postmark, and she tore it open eagerly, for she recognized her sister's handwriting. The letter was short. Janet complained of not getting any better ; her strength was deserting her. And she added, " Oh, Salome, come to me, come to me if you can, and at once. He is here." There was no explanation as to who was implied, but Salome understood. Her sister was ill, weak, and was pestered by the presence of that man — that horrible man who was their father. She went to Philip's door and tapped. She was at once admitted. " Philip, ' she said, " I refused to take Mr. Dales advice on Tuesday, I will take it now if you will allow me. I have heard from Janet. She is ill." The tears came into her eyes. " She is very ill, and entreats me to fly to her without delay." She said nothing to him of who she had heard was with her sister. ^I am quite willing that you should go," he said. words were hard. The lack of feeling in them touched her to the quick. Very well, Philip," she said ; " with your consent I will 228 THE PENNYCOMEQUIOKS. while, unless," to take baby she and Go yourself, go. Baby must do without me for a brightened, " unless you will allow me nurse with me." " No," answered Philip, " on no account, but I cannot entertain that other proposal." She sighed. " Where is Janet ? " he asked. " At Andermatt— on the S. Gothard. The air is bracing there." " Very well. You will want money. You shall have it." " And how long may I stay ? " •' That entirely remains with yourself. As far as I am concerned, I am indifferent." So Salome was to go. She was now filled with a feverish impatience to be off— not that she cared for herself, that the change might do her good— but because the leaving home would be to her agony, and she was desirous to have the pang over. She felt that she could not endure to live as she had of late, under the same roof with her husband and yet separated from him, loving him with her faithful, sincere heart, and meeting with rebuff only, guiltless, yet regarded as guilty, her self-justification disregarded, her word treated as un^yorthy of credence. No— she could not endure the daily mortification, and she knew that it would be well for her to leave, but for all that she knew that the leaving home would be to her the acutest torture she could suffer. She must leave her dear child, uncertain when she would see it again. She did not hide from herself that if she left, she left not to return till some change had taken place in Philip's feehngs towards her. She could not return to undergo the same freezing process. But she raised no hopes on what she knew of Philip's charac- ter. As far as she was acquainted with it— it was unbending. Salome had that simple faith which leads one to take a step that seems plain, without too close a questioning as to ulti- mate consequences. She had been told by the doctor whom she trusted that she must go away from Mergatroyd, and immediately came the call of her sister. To her mind, this was a divine indication as to the course she must take, and she prepared accordingly to take it. At the best of times it is not without misgiving and heart- ache that we leave home, if only for a holiday, and only for a few weeks ; we discover fresh beauties in home, new attrac- ■f, i A DESOLATE HOUSE. 229 iess," she baby and yourself, is bracing I have it." : as I am a feverish F, that the ^ing home i the pang she had of separated leart, and guilty, her iworthy of rtification, /e, but for to her the her dear tie did not return till wards her. g process, p's charac- m bending, ake a step as to ulti- ctor whom troyd, and mind, this take, and and heart- only for a lew attrac- tions, things that require our presence, and obstruct our departing steps. A certain vague fear always rises up, lest we should never return, at least, that when we return some- thing should be changed that we value, something going wrong that we have left right, some one face be missing that we hold to with infinite love. It is a qualm bred of the know- ledge of the uncertainty of all things m this most shifting world, a qualm that always makes itself felt on the eve of departure. With Salome this was more than a qualm ; she was going, she knew not to what ; she was going, she knew not for how long : and the future drew a grey impenetrable veil before her eyes— she could not tell, should she return, to what that return would be. She did not reckon about her child. She could, she would not be separated from it— but whether Philip would let the child go to her, or msist on her return to the child, that she did not ask. The future must decide. Whatever she saw to be her duty, that she would do. That was Salome's motive principle. She would do her duty anywhere, at any sacrifice ; when she saw what her duty was. A cab was procured from the nearest town, tour miles distant, to take Salome to the station. Oh the last clasp of her babe! The tearful eyes, the quivering mouth, the beating heart, the inner anguish ; and then — as she ran down stairs, with her veil drawn over her face, Philip encountered her on the landing, and offered her —not his cheek, not his heart— but his arm to take her to the cab. I, I CHAPTER XXXIV. A DESOLATE HOUSE. PHILIP was restless all that day, after Salome had departed. He had remained at home in the morning to see her off, and he did not return to his work at the factory till after lunch. At the office, he found it impossible to fix his thoughts on the books and letters before him. He was not an imaginative man, but day-dreams forced themselves before him now; between his eyes and his ledger he saw the pale, tearful face of Salome through her veil. He found his thoughts travelling 8 230 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. along the line with her. He saw her in a corner of the rail- way carriage, with her hands on her lap, looking out of the window, not to see anything, but to hide her wet cheeks from her fellow-passengers. He caught himself wondering whether she had taken sandwiches with her and a little bottle of sherry. When he travelled — and he was called from home occasionally — there was always a neat little package in white paper, and a tiny flat flask, pressed on him. Had any of the servants thought of these things for Salome ? That she had thought of them for herself was unlikely. When she reached town, what would she do ? Would the porters be attentive ? Would they take her wraps and little odds and ends, and see her into a cab ? And would the flyman be civil, or would he seek to take advantage of a lone lady, especially one who looked ill and unhappy ? Would not such an one become a prey to his rapacity, and be subject to rudeness ? What sort of weather would Salome have for crossing the Channel ? She was going by Dover and Ostend, Brussels and the Grand Luxembourg, to Strasburg ; thence by Basle to Lucerne, and so on by boat and diligence to Andermatt. How would she manage about change of money ? Where effect an exchange ? She had never travelled abroad before ; how would she contrive about her luggage ? What sort of P'rench scholar was she ? Who would be her companions on the long night journey from Brussels to Strasburg ? What if she had to endure association with vulgar, insolent, objec- tionable travelling comrades. Philip became hot, then cold. *• I beg your pardon, sir," said the clerk, coming to his desk. " Are you aware that you have subscribed that letter twice over. Yours truly, P. Pennycomequick ? " " So I have ; I will write it again." '* And, sir — I beg pardon — you have directed this letter to Messrs. Brook & Co., Cotton Spinners, Andermatt. Is that right ?" " I have made a mistake. I will write the address again." At dinner, that evening, Philip was alone. The parlour- maid waited. She stood a little way off, behind his chair, whilst he ate. He was conscious that she watched him at his 9K}^tyy itit.t.1 oiic vvao \-ouiiiiijg xiOw many 3puuni)iui wcm imu his mouth, that he was not unobserved when he added salt and pepper. She was down on his plate like a vulture on a dead camel, the moment he had taken his last spoonful. A DESOLATE HOUSE. 231 Probably she was finding it as embarrassing standing watching him eat as he found it eating with her watching. " Mary," said PhiHp, " did Mrs. Pennycomequick have any refreshments with her when she left — sandwiches and sherry ? " " I beg your pardon, sir. I don't know. I will go and ask cook." She did know. Philip was sure she did, but made this an excuse to get out of the dining-room and its oppressive restraint to the free air of the kitchen. Presently she returned, "Well? "asked Philip." " Please, sir, no. Cook says she tried to press them on Missis, but Missis, sir, wouldn't have 'em. She said she'd have no appetite ' " What is it ? " asked Philip, as a dish was offered. " Curried rabbit, sir," " Curried rabbit ? No thank you." Philip looked across the table, to the place hitherto occu- pied by his wife. He had not been gracious, only coldly civil to her of late, but then — now he would have been glad to have had someone opposite him to whom he could have been coldly civil ; some one to whom he might have remarked that the weather had been bad, that the barometer was rising, that the political situation was so and so. Bother that woman ! — he meant the parlour maid. Then aloud, " What is it ? Oh, veal." He would have some veal. " Stuffing ? " Oh ! the stuffing formed that brown wart at the side, did it ? He tried to eat his veal, but felt that the eye of Mary was on the back of his head, that she was looking at the nape of his neck, and the hair there, and the collar-button, and a little dust that lay on the collar of his coat. Philip had a mole on the nape of his neck, and he was convinced that this mole formed an object of the liveliest interest to Mary. She was watching the mole ; when he opened his jaw, the mole took a header and went under his collar ; when he shut his mouth it rose above the collar ; whilst he was chewing, the mole danced on the horizon of his collar, to Mary's infinite amusement . Philip turned round. His imagination made him fancy that Mary was tittering, overcome by the antics played by his mole. 232 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I I 1;! i: Philip took wine, and as he felt the glow of the sherry pass down his throat, he wondered whether Mary felt a glow of sympathy down her throat, occasioned by seeing him drmk the sherry. Her presence was unbearable, and yet— if he dismissed her — how was he to be served ? u .. i " I'll ask someone to dine with me to-morrow night, he said to himself." Then he turned to Mary as she removed his plate, and said, " How is baby this afternoon ? Does he fret much at his mother's being away ? " " I beg your pardon, sir, I don't know. I'll run and ask nurse." Of course she knew, but she made this an excuse for get- ting out of the dining-room into the freer air of the nursery. Never, in all his life, had Phihp found himself more impatient of the silence imposed on him, more desirous to hear his own voice. In his lodgings he had eaten his meals alone— a chop and some potatoes— and he had had a book or a paper at his side whilst eating ; the landlady or the slavie had not stood m the room watching him, observing the part- ing in his hair behind his head, making fun of his mole, impatient to dust his collar. In his lodgings he had drunk beer or London Cocper— now he drank claret, she.ry, port ; but he would have drunk even water, if he might only have been alone. " No, thank you, no dessert ! eager to leave the room. '• Please, sir, any cheese ? " " No, thank you, no cheese." He ran away from his half-finished dinner study, where he could be alone, away from the Mary. Then he rang the bell. " You may bring me up the claret and port here— and the preserved ginger," he ordered. Then he thought he had acted absurdly, and would have countermanded the order had he not been ashamed to confess how unhinged he was. He sat in his cvn room, with his claret glass in his hand, dreaming, looking into the fire. " Where was Salome now ? Was she thinking of home — of her baby— of— of— -him ? " Then he wondered whether she were cold, and hungry, and tired. She had not slept the previous night. She had He jumped up, he was to his own insufferable -1 '.a •i* -% A DESOLATE HOUSE. 233 he sherry elt a glow him drink dismissed light," he ; removed Does he n and ask se for get- e nursery, iself more esirous to his meals a book or the slavie r the part- his mole, lad drunk jrry, port ; only have ip, he was his own isufferable i — and the had acted er had he J his hand, of home — i been busy packing, or going in and out of baby's room to kiss the little sleeping face, or to pray by the crib, or let the dew of her tears fall over it. Philip stood up. He left his glass unfinished, and went upstairs to the nursery. He found the door ajar, and the room empty. The nurse had gone down for a talk in the kitchen —no doubt about Master, and Mary was telling her about his mole, and t'^ ^ spots of dust on his collar. He entered the nursery and stood by the crib, and looked at the sleeping child. Little Philip was now quite well again, and was very sound asleep. He was undoubtedly a Pennycomequick. He had dark hair, and long dark eyelashes. But surely— surely there was some trace of his mother in the tiny face. It could not be that he did not bear in him something of her. Philip looked intently at the child, and tried to find out in him some feature of his wife. There, on this side of the crib, had Salome's hands rested that night when Httle Philip was ill. Philip, the father, knew the exact spot where her hands had rested, and where her forehead had leaned, with the red gold hair falling down over the side upon the bedding. Where the white left hand had clutched, with the gold ring sparkling on it, there now Philip placed his hand, and there streamed up to him from the crib of his child a magnetic influence that put him en rapport with his absent wife, brought to him a soothing sense of oneness with her who was far away, and filled his heart with regret and yearning. The child began to cry. Then Philip rang the bell, and when the nurse arrived, red and blowing " How is it that you are net at your post ? " he asked. " Please, sir, I only just ran down to warm up Dr. Ridge's Food for the baby," was the answer. Philip descended to the siudy, and resumed his claret glass. At the same time he began to consider his own con- duct towards Salome, and, now only, saw that it did not bear the same complexion as he had hitherto attributed to it. In vain did he call up before his mind the dishonour of relation- ship with such a man as Beaple Yeo, a rogue after whom the police had been in quest more than once. In vain did he poke the fires of his wrath at the trickery of his marriage, he could not convince himself that Salome had been privy to it ; i-fte II 234 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I I! '^ ii !l and if not privy to it, what right had he to treat her with the severity he had exercised? But not even then did it occur to him that the main element of his wrath was supphed by his own wounded pride. The discovery of her parentage must have been to Salome a crushing humiliation. What justification was there for his adding to her burden by his reproaches and coldness ? Sne could not undo the past, unmake her relationship. His anger, his resentment, could not improve the situation, could not shake the truth of the hateful fact that he was allied to so great a scoundrel. Though she had been married under a wrong name, that would not .nvalidate the marriage even if he wished it— even if he wished it ! Did he wish it ? He thought about uncle Jeremiah's will, and how that by It Salome had been left almost sole legatee ; how that the mill and everything had been given to her, and how that in a mysterious manner that will had been cancelled. The old haunting suspicion that his aunt had meddled with and defaced the will returned. He thought of her behaviour when he allowed her to see that he entertained a suspicion ; of her evasion of her promise; of her laxity of principle; and he could not shake off the thought that it was quite possible that through her Salome had been defrauded of her rights. If so, had he any right to complain if he had been deceived ? How did Mrs. Sidebottom show beside Salome ? And he- he, Philip — had he shown in generous colours either ? It was said of that distinguished epicure, the Marquis de Cussy, " L'estomac de M. n'a jamais bronchi," and the same may be said o( .nost consciences — but not of all. As we have seen even Mrs. Sidebottom's conscience once feh a twinge at the time when consciences generally do feel twinges, when too late to redress wrong actions. So now did Philip, as he sat over the fire with his claret glass in his hand, become aware that he had acted with undue severity, and he spilt the claret on the floor. Next day, Philip went to the old bedroom which he and his wife had occupied till he changed his quarters. He found the housemaid there, who seemed startled at seeing him enter. " Please, sir, I'm drawing down the blinds, because of the sun. I will trouble you to leave the blinds up," said Philip, do not choose to have the house — the room— look as III l« A DESOLATE HOUSE. 236 though someone in it were dead. Here— by the way, my room downstairs will need a thorough turn out. I will return to this room ; at all events for a time." •• Very well, sir." She left the chamber. He stood in it and looked about him. Salome had left everything tidy. Some of her drawers were open, not many were locked. Most of her little private treasures had been removed. Where was the photograph on the stand of Uncle Tere- miah ? It had no doubt been taken away by her. Where the three little ov. .5 sitting on a pen wiper ? It was gone — and the Christmas cards that had stood on the chimney piece, and the ugly glazed yellow flower vase, given her, on her birthday, by the cook. The clock on the chimney-piece was stopped. Salome had wound that up regularly ; her hand Was no longer there, and it had been allowed to run down. The room was dead without the tick of the clock. Philip wound it up and set the pendulum swinging. It ticked again, but in a formal, weary manner, unlike the brisk and cheerful tick of old. The room had a cold unfurnished look without Salome's knick-knacks— trifles m themselves, but giving an air of refinement and cheeriness to the apartment. He went oyer to the dressing-table. No combs and brushes, no hairpins, bottles of hair oil and wash there — simply a table with a lookmg-glass on it. One little glass was there, but no flowers in it ; and hitherto it had never failed to contain some— even in winter. With what ingenuity had Salome kept that little glass on the dressing-table bright — in winter at times with holly only, or ivy leaves — or moss and a scarlet Jew's ear. It was the same downstairs. There the flowers were ragged and faded in the vases, Salome was av;ay, who had re-arranged them every second day. The room smelt musty, and Philip threw up the window. He stood at it, and looked out, dreamily. Where was Salome now ? Was she m Switzerland ? Had she any heart to look at the mountains ? Would the wonderful scenery be any joy to her — alone ? " I can never dine as I did yesterday," said Philip. " I will ask Tomkins in." That day he did invite Tomkins, his head traveller. But he was irritated with Tomkins and angry with the maid, because Tomkins' seat had been put at the end of the table, 23C THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Iiii i in Salome's place ; and Tomkins was a different object for his eyes to rest on from Salome. The dinner passed wearily. Philip was not, indeed, concerned about the parlour maid examining the mole on his neck, but he had to make conver- sation for Tomkins, and to listen to Tomkins' commercial room tales, and to be civil to Tomkins. After dinner Tomkins was in no hurry to go — he enjoyed the Pennycomequick port, and on the port grew confidential and Philip became tired, every minutomore tired, of Tomkins^ and was vexed with himself for having asked Tomkins in, and vowed he would dine by himself next evening. Then Tom- kins, finding it difficult to rouse Philip's interest and excite a laugh, began to tell rather broad stories, and was undeterred by Philip's stony stare, till Philip suddenly stood up, rang for coffee, and said it was time to adjourn to another room, and so cut Tomkins short. But even alter Tomkins had been got into the drawing- room, and had been chilled there by its size ar, i coldness, and the inattention of his host, he showed little inclination to depart, and threw out hints that he could strum an accom- paniment to himself on the " pi-anny," and sing a song, senti- mental or humorous, if Mr. Pennycomequick would like to hear him. But Philip pleaded headache, and became at length so freezing as to force Tomkins J:o take his leave. Philip did not feel it necessary to accompany his head commercial into the hall ; but Mary was there to assist him into his great-coat, and find him his hat, and give him a light for his cigar. " Well, Mary," said Tomkins, pleasantly. "Thank you, Mary ; to take a light from you warms the heart, Mary. I'm as blind as a beetle in the dark, and 'pon my word, dear, I don't know my right hand from my left in the dark. You wouldn't object, would you — there's a dear — ^just to set me on my way home, with my nose in the right direction, and then my cigar light will carry me on ? Can't go wrong if I follow that. But it is the mst step, Mary — the first step is the thing. Le premier paw, say the French." Then he hooked his arm into hers, and the demure Mary V» o^ *-\i^ rtKizi/^f -li^r* f r\ f nlrp tiiof Ira If rk HoTon cf pr^c Qlrfcnfir f np road with the affable Mr. Tomkins — who was a widower — and to leave the hall door ajar as she escorted him part of his way home. Philip sat in the drawing-room in bad humour. It was A DESOLATE HOUSE. 237 ct for his wearily, jiir maid ; conver- iimercial I enjoyed fidential^ romkins» IS in, and len Tom- l excite a ideterred , rang for oom, and drawing- coldness, iclination n accom- ng, senti- d like to 2came at ive. his head ssist him m a light lank you, ary. I'm d, dear, I rk. You set me on and then I follow :he thing. ure Mary olr»nrr iVxt^t- "*"'*'o "*■"- ^idower — tart of his '. It was dull dining by himself; it was insufferable dining with Tom- kins. He could not invite brother manufacturers to dine with him every evening. What must he do ? He would rtturn to plain food and a book at his solitary meal, and dis- miss the critical parlour-maid till he requirea his plate to be changed. Philip rang the bell. The teacups were left on the table. His bell remained unanswered. He rang again. It was still unnoticed. Then he angrily went down into the hall, and found the door ajar. He called to the servants in the kitchen for Mary. The housemaid appeared. " Please, sir, she's gone out a moment to post a letter." " What ! at this time of night ? " '* It was most particular ; her mother be dreadful porely, sir, and Mary do take on about her orful ! " " Go to bed — lock up," ordered Philip ; and he stood in the hall whilst the frightened domestics filed past. Then he turned down the gas and returned to the draw- ing-room. He would hear Mary when she came in by the hall door, and would at once give her her dismissal. He sat waiting. Here was fresh trouble come on him, through his wife's absence. He would have to see that his servants were kept in proper order ; that they keep proper hours. He had hardly resumed his seat before he heard steps in the hall, and ther *n the stairs. Certainly not the tread of Mary; not light, id not stealthy, but firm and ponderous. What step could it be ? Tomkins returning to tell one of his good stories, or to ask for f da-water ? He listened, and ht itated whether to rise or not. It must be the step of Tom- kins ; no one else would venture to come in at this time. The step was arrested at the drawing-room door ; then Philip stood up, and as he did so the door was thrown open, and Uncle Jeremiah stood on the threshold, looking at him. He knew the old man at once, though he was changed, and his hair white. " Philip," said Jeremiah. " where is your wife ? Where is Salome ? " Philip was too much astonished to answer. Then said Jerc iuiah sternly: "Give an account of thy stewardship, to - thou mayest be no longer steward. ■M 238 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. E>-'i r:i • fi 1 1 1 1 1 CHAPTER XXXV. OFF. WHEN I was a boy I possessed a pet owl. It was a source of amusement to me to feed that owl with mice. When the trap had caught one of these night disturbers, I took it to the solemn owl, who sat bhnking in the twilight,^ half awake and half asleep. The owl at once gulped down the mouse, and then went fast asleep with the mouse in her inside, but with the end of the tail protruding from her beak. About an hour later I went to the owl, took hold of the end of the mouse's tail and pulled it, whereupon up the throat of the owl came the mouse, backwards, and the bird of wisdom was roused to wild wonder and profound puzzlement to account for the sudden disgorging of her meal. Mrs. Side- bottom had bolted uncle Jeremiah and was doing her best to digest him and his fortune, when, unexpectedly, her meal came to life again, and she sat gulping, blinking, bemuzzed in her sitting-room waiting for the return of Lambert from the billiard table, to communicate to him the news that had reached her. Anyone who had seen my owl would perceive at once that the case of Mrs. Sidebottom was analogous. The consternation could hardly have been greater on Quilp reappearing when a posse of wives was sitting discuss- ing him, esteemed dead ; and yet Jeremiah was no Quilp. But it is not Quilps alone who would produce dismay were they to return to life. Imagine the emotions produced in a hospital which has received a bequest of ten thousand pounds, and has spent fifteen guineas on the portrait of the bene- factor, should the benefactor descend from the frame, declare himself alive, and require the return of his thousands. Think of the junior partner, who has been waiting till a senior shuffled off his mortal coil to make room for him ; how would he feel were the dead to return to life ? Think of the curate waiting for the living, the next presentation to which is for him, should the old rector, after having laid himself down in his grave, change his mind and get out and resume his bene- fice for another fifteen years ! Mrs. Sidebottom had but just received news of the reap- pearance of Uncle Jeremiah, and, like an energetic woman, she wasted as little time as might be in exclamation.'^ of I OFF. 230 It was sc vith mice, turbers, I ! twilight, ped down ise in her her beak. )f the end throat of >f wisdom ement to Irs. Side- er best to her meal Demuzzed bert from that had [ perceive ^ous. reater on y discuss- lo Quilp. may were uced in a d pounds, :he bene- 9, declare s. Think a senior ow would he curate ich is for f down in his bene- the reap- : woman, atio.1'5 of 3 dismay. She was not the woman to hover in uncertainty, and ask advice how to get out of a difficulty. Like one who has trodden in mire, she pulled her leg out instantaneou ly to set it on dry and firm ground. " I don't know how the law stands, and whether the sen- tence of the Court of Probate can be reversed," she said, ^' but of one thing I am very sure — that he who has can hold, and tire out those who try to open his hands, if he has any wit." Then in came Lambert. " Oh, Lamb ! " exclaimed his mother, " here is a pretty predicament we are in ! My brother Jeremiah has come to life again ! " The captain burst out laughing. "This IS no laughing matter," said his mother, testily. *' How can you be such a hyaena ? Jeremiah has re-appeared at Mergatroyd, and there is— well, I can't mince matters — the devil to pay. I presume he will want to reclaim what we have distributed between us. The mill, of course, with the business, he will take back under his control, and cut off the supply thence. That is a serious matter— and then there is the money he left " " Which I suppose he will require you to return." " Which I can't and won't return. Bless me, Lamb, what a state of things ! Our income reduced from half the profits of the business to one-sixth, which he cannot touch, as that comes to me under my marriage settlement. We must leave England— we must leave at once. I shall know nothing about Jeremiah's return. I shall keep away till I see in what humour he is, what he intends to do, and in what light he regards me. There are trifles connected with the adminis- tration I don't care to meet him about. As for his savings, his securities, and so on, I will return nothing "—she stamped her foot — " no, Lamb ; for, in fact, I can't ! " " How do you know that he is back, and that this is not a false alc'rm ? " " Look here " She tossed a letter to him. " It is laconic. He wrote it with a sneer — I know he did. Jeremiah never liked me. He has disappeared, and has come to life again, out of spite." Captain Pennycomequick— to be correct, Penycoinbe- ^uick— took the letter and read it with a smile. It was short. rW 240 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS, " Dear Louisa, — I am back, hearty again. 1 have been to Algiers for my health. I had rheumatic fever, and when I came round I found you had already pronounced me dead^ and had divided the spoils — concerning which, a word later. — Your affectionate brother, Jeremiah P." ♦' Is it his handwriting ? " asked Lambert. •• Of course it is. Here is a pretty mess for me to be in. I shall have everyone laughing at me, because I swore that the man in the shirt and great coat was Jeremiah. * Concern- ing which — the spoils — a word later.' What does he mean by that, but that he proposes calling me to account tor every penny ? I will not remain in England. I cannot. I will not receive this letter." •• But you have received it." •' I shall make my landlady return it, with a note to say that she took the liberty to open it, so as to be able to write to the sender, and say that I have gone abroad for my health. Where shall I say I have gone to ? — To Algiers, whence Jere- miah has just returned." " You cannot do that." " But I will. Self-preservation is the first law. As for the money — I lost some by that Beaple Yeo ; not much, but some. I was so prompt, and had such presence of mind, th? I caught the man and made him refund before he had got re of most of it. I have money in securities — railway debentures and foreign loans. I have all the papers by me — I trust no- one but myself, since my faith has been shaken by Smithies. Lamb, we must be off directly. It would be too much a shock to my nerves to see my brother that was dead and is alive again. What are you laughing at, Lamb ? You really are silly." '• There is some prospect now of my coming to that hun- dred and fifty, I hope," said the captain. " Uncle Jeremiah may now write another will." " How selfish you are ! You think only of yourself, not how I am afflicted. But, Lamb, I have had you sppngingon me all these years, and keeping me in an exhausted financial f^QTiHition that is intolerable." " We shall revert to our former condition, I suppose, now," said Lambert, unconcernedly. " That is precisely what I cannot do. Return to poverty .1 :^ .1 crown and climax of which ;ty, very I is a Lord and Lady Mayoress — when we are on the eve of OFF. 241 n ave been id when I me dead^ ord later. to be in. i^ore that Concern- he mean tor every :. I will te to say ) write to y health, nee Jere- As for luch, but iind,th? d got re bentures. trust no- Smithies, much a d and is ou really tiat hun- feremiah rself, not nging on financial ;e, now," poverty of which le eve of making the acquaintance of county people ! What have you done for yourself ? You have been too mert to seize the chances I have put in your way. You must marry money. Jane Mulberry was worth five hundred per annum, and you let her slip through your fingers." " She had a moustache " "She had money. Five hundred pounds would gild it. Then there was Miss Smithson." ^ " She was insipid," , .1 u i. • ^ " What of that ? The insipid women make the best wives, they are so non-resistant. In marriage, men should be teeto tallers and take weak and washy women. They are tar the ^^^-^Don'tThklk I've much fancy for such," said the captain, ^^" -"nremble to think," said his mother, angrily, " what the offspring of a weak woman and such an unenergetic man would be." . , „ " Then why recommend such a marriage r •' Because we must consider ourselves, not the unborn pos- sibilities. However, to return to the subject that now most occupies us. My condition is desperate. You must marry. I can support you no longer." " And so you deport me to Algiers ? " My dear boy, we are not going to Algiers. " Then where to ? " " To Andermatt." " Andermatt !— Where is that ? " " On the Saint Gotthard." o. r- ..u ^ ? " " And pray why to Andermatt on the St. (jotthara ." " Because Mrs. Baynes is there." '♦ Oh, by all means." ^ „ , , , • ^u " What makes you say, ' by all means ? asked his mother, ^ ^^"^She's a jolly girl, good looking, and no nonsense about her " ^ Do you think that I would take you to her it that were all ' You know she is a widow. She has her hundred and rr. t u„i. ...^o r.,.r.b- K" lAr^^miah when shc married, but that is not all : she has been left well provided for by her husband, Mr. Albert Baynes. I know all about it. I got everything out of Salome. I told her how anxious I was about her sister, how pained I was concerning her bereave- 'I 242 THE PENJNYCOMEQUICKS. ment, and how I hoped that she was not left in bad circum- stances. Salome very openly told me that she was very comfortably provided for, and no stipulation made about marrying again. I know what Salome meant when she let me draw that out of her— she meant that you should know ; but I then had my eye on Miss Smithson. However, now that we must go abroad we may as well kill two birds with one stone. Besides, as Jeremiah took such a lively interest in Janet, he may be gratified at your marrying her, and not press me with demands which I could not comply with — which I will not, no, I will not comply with." " But she is in bad health." " Oh, nothing but sentiment at her husband's death ; besides, if she is delicate, all the bftter." " I don't see that," said the captain, feebly disgusted at his mother's heartlessness. " Fiddle-faddle," said Mrs. Sidebottom ; " it is all part of the business— it goes with widows' caps. When I lost Side- bottom I was worn to a shadow and got a cough ; but I began to recover flesh when I went into half mourning, and lost my cough with my weeds. When you appear on the scene it will be codliver oil to her." " It will be very dull at this place you speak of." " Of course it will be dull and hateful, but what will you have ? I sacrifice myself for you. You must get off my hands and shift for yourself; I have had you as a charge too long. I want to see you well provided for, and as the Smithson and Jane Mulberry failed, you must take the Baynes. I can't tell you exactly what she is worth, but I will ascertain from Salome, who is there, before you commit yourself. Remember, Lamb, we must go. 1 cannot stay here and face Jeremiah." " Why not ? It would be the most honourable thing to do, and might answer the best in the end." " I canno\ do it. Why— how would you feel— how could you feel towards a person who had pronounced you dead, and • proceeded to administer ? Much as a man might towards the surgeon who proceeded to dissect him before he was dead. No, Lamb, I will not remain. I can always write to Jeremiah, aR._i express my proiound astonishment to hear of his return, and assume an air of injury that I should have been left in the dark so long. Indeed, I think that will be the card to play, —throw the blame on him, and if the case comes into court, I can lay stress on this. Wilfully he allowed me to remain in 1 4 OFF. 243 ignorance of his existence. Something had to be done. The factory would not go on of itself. The factory could not be carried on without money. The business would go to pieces unless energetically prosecuted. Jeremiah may feel gratetul, and ought to feel grateful to me, that I acted with such readi- ness in the matter and saved the firm of Pennycomequick from ruin. I can bring in a heavy bill against him for my services. However, I had rather do this from a distance, and by letter I will take the injured tone, and make him dance to that Mrs. Sidebottom was a woman of resource. She never suffered herself to be discouraged by adversity ; and adversity now faced her wearing the mask of her brother returned to Hfe. She had much energy of character and fertihty ot invention, which, if she had been a woman of principle, instead of unscrupulous, self-seeking, might have made her a valuable person in society. She was at present frightened- she had invested some of the money she had drawn to herselt from Teremiah's savings in a manner that promised well ; some she had 'est. She neither desired to be called to account tor what she had squandered, nor to be forced to reimburse those happy speculations which were likely to place her in easy circumstances. Until she had had good professional advice, and until she knew what her brother intended, she considered that safety lay in absence. ^ . u She went about in York, leaving her card ; and when she saw a friend, she told her that she was off to the Continent for a bit of a change. She had not been very well, and the doctors had insisted on variation of scene and air, and she felt herself that life was too short to spend it in one place. The world was large and must be seen, and those dear snowy mountains— they possessed for her a fascination she had struggled against, but had been unable further to resist. •' My dear Mrs. Jacques, you know what anxiety and care 1 had last year about my poor brother's affairs-wmding up, you know. I held up through it all, animated by a sense ot duty, but it told on me in the end, and now I am going to relax. I shall spend the summer in the Alps, and unless I am much better I shall go to Algiers for the winter. Have you an"y friends who will be there next Christmas ? Oh my dear, to think of Christmas in Algiers; a hot sun and no plum pudding ! " „ , .. j Mrs. Sidebottom had not the faintest desire to spend a it f w 244 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I Winter in Algiers ; she thought Mentone, or Florence, or Pau would suit her better, according to where she could get into the best society, and she resolved to leave the determination to the future ; if she found during the summer people whom It was worth her while hanging on to, and who were wintering anywhere abroad, she would attach herself to them. But with that curious crookedness which prevails in some natures, she went about asking questions about hotels and pensions at Algiers, keeping her ears open at the same time to hear of persons of position who were likely to winter elsewhere. It was possible that, if she made it well known that she would winter in Algiers, acquaintances would tell her of friends of theirs who were wintering elsewhere. Nor was she wrong, xurn- 'i-^i" so sorry you are not going to Mentone; Sir William Pickering is going there because of the health of dear Lady Pickering. Such charming people— you would have liked to know them— but as you are going to Algiers, of course I cannot get you acquainted with each other." Mrs. Sidebottom knew well enough that if she had said she was going to Mentone this piece of information would not have been vouchsafed her. "Oh! Mrs. Sidebottom — you are visiting Algiers. There is a nice young lady, a niece, going there. She is in a decline. I shall be eternally obliged to you if you would show her kindness ; she is badly oft, and it would be goodness itself if you would just look in now and then and ascertain that she is comfortable and not imposed on." " My dear Mrs. Tomson, you could not have asked me to do anything that would have pleased me more— but unfortu- nately It is not certain I am going to Algiers. If I make up my mind to go I will write to you for the address of your niece, and - ou may rely on me, I will do my utmost for her." 1 his wat -jompanied by an internal mem. :— Have nothing further to ao with Mrs. Tomson. I'm not going abroad to bl anybody s nurse. Heaven forbid. "Oh, Mrs. Sidebottom ! So you are off" to Switzerland and Algiers. Now there could be nothing more opportune. We are going to have a bazaar to raise money for the relief of the peasants in France, who have suffered from the war Would you mmd sending as your contribution a box nf rharn.. ing bwiss carvmgs and delightful Algerian and Moorish pottery-the latter will sell rapidly and at high prices-you are so good and charitable, I know you will " ^ " I will certainly do so. Rely on me. I intended to have 4 DEPOSED. 245 2, or Pau I get into mination >le whom vintering m. But natures, pensions 3 hear of lere. It 16 would fiends of vrong. Dne ; Sir lealth of u would igiers, of ," Mrs. she was lot have you are e, going liged to i, and it low and sedon." ;d me to unfortu- nake up of your or her." nothing id to be :zerland )ortune. relief of he war. charm - iloorish 2s — you to have had a stall ; I will send two cases instead " — with a mental mem. : — Forget all about the bazaar till it is over, and then write a proper apology. " Oh — Mrs. Sidebottom ! I've lost my maid again. As you are going to Switzerland, will you do me the favour of looking out for a really serviceable girl — you know my require- ments — and arrange all about trains and so on, so that she may reach me safely. Perhaps you would not mind advancing her journey-money, and I will repay it — if she suits, of which I have no doubt. I am determined to have no more English servants." Mrs. Sidebottom found that her acquaintance were eager to make use of her, but then she had sufficient knowledge of the world to expect that. " Have you secured through tickets. Lamb ? " " Yes, mother." " Then we are off to-morrow." CHAPTER XXXVI. DEPOSED. GONE as a dream ! — that brief period of hope and happiness and comfort. Philip had a disquieting prospect opening before him, as disquieting as that which drove Mrs. Side- bottom from England, but different in kind. Philip was ready enough to account for every penny, and return all the money undiminished which had come to his share. What troubled I him was the fearful look-out of a return to furnished lodgings. He saw himself about to be cast forth from the elegancies, the conveniences of life, and cast down to its vulgarities and discomforts. He saw himself about to be transferred from the cushioned carriage on the smooth road, to a buggie on a corduroy way, all jolts and kicks and plunges and breakdowns. He was about to descend from succulent joints and savoury entre-tnets to mutton-chops alternating into beef-steaks, from claret to bitter beer, from a place of authority to one of sub- mission, from progress to stagnation, from a house of his own over which to range at pleasure to confinement within two rooms, one opening out of the other. He must go back to streaky forks, and spoons that at dinner recalled the egg ii iif'l i 'A 'i ■' " ■ ' i .. 4 ^ ■ : ! 1^1 : ! 1 ■ 4- i fli I ! i 246 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKa of breakfast, to knives with adhesive handles and tumblers frosted with finger marks, to mirror frames encased in fly- proof snipped green paper and beaded flower-mats, a horse- hair sofa, a cruet stand with old crusted mustard and venerable Worcester sauce in it, to wax fruit under a glass shade, as covered with dust as a Peruvian island with guano, to folding- doors into the adjacent bed-room, and to curtains tied back with discarded bonnet ribbons. But it vould have been bad enough for Philip, now accustomed to better things, to have had the prospect before him of descending alone ; but he was no longer alone, he had a wife, who, however, was absent, and about whose return he was uncertain. And he had with him the encumbrance of a baby ; and the encumbrance of a baby drew with it a train of dissatisfied and departing nurses, one after another, like the procession of kings revealed to Macbeth in Hecate's cave. A babe in a lodging-house is as out of place as was the ancestral Stanley found in an eagle's nest on the top of a pine, of which the family crest preserves a reminiscence. Uncle Jeremiah was restored to strength, moral as well as physical. He no longer thought of his heart, he allowed it to manage its pulsations unconsidered. He was heartily glad that he had been saved committing an act of egregious folly, and he was prepared now to meet Salome without a twinge. Common-sense had resumed the place of upper hand, and the temporary disturbance was over forever. To every man comes at some period after he has begun to decline a great horror of old age, an agonising clutch at the pleasures and follies of youth, a time of intoxication when he is not respon- sible for his acts, an intoxication produced by fear lest life with its roses should have passed and left only thorns behind and decay. Men whose lives have been spent in business, subjected to routine, who have not thought of love and amusement, of laughter and idleness, are suddenly roused to find themselves old and standing out of the rush of merri- ment and the sunshine of happiness. Then they make a frantic effort to seize what hitherto they have despised, to hug to their hearts what they have forcibly cast away. It is the ST 1^-'-, , ,-- " C^i^t- ^^fl^^v r\( thp Honqft*^'^ crlorv and . l_<Ukc S bUilllTici, a xdiiii it.in-.-i. •w.- lite u^|-.-J- i ^ j — warmth, a last smile before the arrival of the wintry gales No moment in life is so fraught with danger as this— at none is there more risk of shipwreck to reputation. Now that Jeremiah had passed through this period, he DEPOSED. 247 tumblers ed in fly- , a horse- venerable shade, as folding- tied back been bad s, to have ut he was is absent, ; had with ance of a ng nurses, ivealed to ,s was the J top of a ;ence. as well as owed it to rtily glad fious folly, a twinge, d, and the very man ne a great Lsures and ot respon- ir lest life rns behind business, love and 1 roused to 1 of merri- y make a sed, to hug It is the orlnrv and o J ntry gales s — at none period, he could survey its risks with a smile and a sense of self-pity and a little self-contempt. He who had always esteemed himself strong had discovered that he could be weak, and perhaps this lesson had made him more lenient with the infirmities of others. He returned to his friend John Dale, looking older by some years, but also more hale. He had touched the earth but had risen from it stronger than when he fell. On reaching Bridhngton, he learned from Dale the state ? "If ^^A^ f Mergatroyd. Whilst there, a hasty note arrived tor Mr. Dale from Salome to say that she was leaving, with her husband's consent, to be with her sister in Switzerland, and both thought they could read between the lines that there had been a fresh difference with Philip. Thereupon Jeremiah went to Mergatroyd, and came in unexpectedly and unannounced on Philip. Jeremiah Pennycomequick had not decided what course to pursue with regard to his sister and nephew. He was consciour. that he had played them a trick, that he had put them to a test which he was not justified in applying to them. He was angry with both— with his half-sister for the pre- cipitation with which she had accepted and certified his der.th, and with Philip for his treatment of Salome. He did not disguise from himself that his interference in such a deli- cate matter as a quarrel, or an estrangement, between hus- band and wife, might make the breach worse. When he arrived at Mergatroyd, he had not resolved what course to take. He sat up half the night with Philip. " You will find," said the latter with some pride, " that I have maintained the business in a healthy condition ; it is not m the condition it was during the continental war which affected linen as well as other things, but that was of its nature ephemeral. It rests on a sound basis. Go through the books and satisfy yourself. My aunt," there was a tone of bitter- ness when he added this : " My aunt watched the conduct of the factory with a jealous eye, and did not trust my accounts without a scrutiny. As for what was in the bank, I can give an account of every penny, and the securities, such as came to me, are untouched." '' I will look into these matters at my leisure," said Jere- miah, " and if I find that matters are as you say, I will let you down lightly ; only, I forewarn you, let down you will be. And now a word about Salome." il 248 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. % '• My wife," said Philip, shortly. •' Your wife — exactly — but " " With regard to my wife, I brook no interference," said Philip, haughtily. " The mill is your affair, my domestic relations are my own." •• You cry out before you are hurt," retorted Jeremiah : " I am not about to interfere. I know that you are greatly disconcerted at the discovery as to the parentage of your wife." Philip held up his head stiffly and closed his lips tightly. He said nothing. " I am not intermeddling," continued Jeremiah, '• but I wish you to understand this : that I have some claim to speak a word for Salome whom I lave always — that is to say — whom I have looked upon with fatherly regard. The two little girls grew up in my house, not a day passed but I saw them ; I rode them as infants at my knee, I bought them toys. They ran to meet me — cupboard love, of course — when I came from the mill, because I had oranges or sweet things in my pocket. I took pride in them as they became blooming girls. I saw that they were well taught. After dinner they soothed me with their music, and when I was dull enlivened me with their prattle. Have I then no right to speak a word for one or the other ! I have been to them more than a father. Their father deserted them as soon as they were born, but I have nurtured and clothed them, and seen to the development of their minds and the disciplining of their characters. It is absurd of you to deny me the right to speak. To interfere is not my purpose." " Very well, I will listen." ** Then let me tell you this — I know who their father was. When Mrs. Cusworth came into this house she very honestly told me the truth about them, and by my advice she kept her counsel. It could do them only harm — cloud their joys, to know that they had a disreputable father. We knew nothing of the man's subsequent history. He had disappeared, and might be — as we hoped, dead. But, even if alive, we did not suppose he would care to come in quest of his twin daughters, and we trusted should he do this, that he would not find them. We hoped that he might not conjecture that the children had been adopted by their aunt and that she had moved into Yorkshire, to Mergatroyd. Neither Salome nor Janet knew who their father was, or rather both supposed him to be that DEPOSED. 249 nee," said ' domestic Jeremiah : ire greatly je of your ps tightly. h, " but I n to speak s to say — The two but I saw light them rse — when feet things J blooming inner they enlivened !ak a word n a father. )orn, but I velopment ers. It is interfere is ather was. y honestly e kept her ir joys, to !W nothing eared, and we did not daughters, find them, ildren had loved into anet knew to be that worthy man who perished so lamentably in my service. By what means he made the discovery and got on their track I do not know, and I hardly care to know. If I could take into my house the children of such a man, it hardly becomes 4 II vou- Philip interrupted his uncle. " That fellow Schofield never injured you as he did my father. He not only ruined him, but he also was the cause of his estrangement from you, or rather, yours from him." •* Bear the man what grudge you will," said Jeremiah, hastily, " but do not visit his offences on the head of his unoffending child." Philip stood up. He was angry, but not to be moved from his stiffness of manner. " I think," said he, " you will be tired. I am, and probably bed is the best place for both. As this is now your house, and I am an intruder in it, I must ask permission to occupy my room for to-night." Jeremiah laughed. " And you— a lawyer ! Why you are in legal possession, and till there is a reversal of the sentence of the Probate Court, I have no more rights than a ghost. No — I am your guest." PhiUp retired to his room. The words of Jeremiah charg- ing him with visiting the offences of the father on the unoffend- mg child were but the repetition of his own self-reproach, but for that very reason less endurable. It is the truth of a charge which gives it its sting. A man will endure to say to himself what he will not tolerate to be said to him by another. He went to his room, but not to bed. He sat at the window, where Salome had sat, in the same chair, thinking with dark brow and set lips. In one thing, his self-esteem was encouraged. His uncle would see and be force to acknowledge how thoroughly he had mastered the techni- cahties of the bismess, and with what order and prudence he had carried it on. He need not shrink from the closest examination into his conduct of the factory. Everything was in order, the books well kept, several contracts in hand. His uncle might dismiss him, but he could not say a word against his integrity and business habits. He had taken to himself nothing but what Mrs. Sidebottom, as administratrix, had passed over to him. And as to his uncle's disappearance, he had done nothing as to the identification of the wrong body ; ,t f ; 250 THE J'ENNYCOMEQUICKS. u |i , f 5 he had held himself neutral, as incapable of forming an opin- ion irom madequate acquaintance with his uncle. If blame was to be cast, it must fall heavily on Mrs. Sidebottom, but none would rest on him. But-how about the future? Philip now recalled the discomfiture the monotonies, the irritations of lodging-house life. Could he go back to that ? If his uncle offered to retain him in his house, could he consent? His pride counselled tiim to go, his love of comfort to remain. Uncle Jeremiah had not invited him to remain, but Philip thought It hkely that he might. His pride was galled in many ways. It would be most painful to him to continue at thi lactoiy, in which he had been a master, henceforth in a subordinate position. Should lie return to the solicitors' firm at Nottingham, in which he had been before? That his services there were valued he was well aware, that his resig- nation of a clerkship therein liad caused annoyance he was well aware ; he knew, however, that his place was filled, and that if he returned to the offi- e, he would be obliged to take a lower desk He might, and probably would he advanced, but that would require patience, and he must wait till a vacancy occurred. Besides it would be a humihation to have to solicit readmission, after he had left the office on stilts, as one who had come into a fortune. Then— what was to be done about his wife ? He could not maintain her and her child on a junior clerk's wage. Moreover, he had sent her away when he occupied a lofty moral platform, because connection with her sullied the fair "^""^.u . u "^f°"'^'^"'''^' ^"^ '^'ght injure the firm; and now that he no longer belonged to the firm, but was a poor clerk of no consequence in the world, was he to write to her a etter of humble apology, and ask her to return and share the .Zf^'\uu- ""^'^'f ^'!^ '" furnished lodgings with him, to u t "^1 ./?'"".*" u^^'^ ^°"^ ^°^^^"^ battle against landladies ? He had little doubt that Uncle Jeremiah would propose to make Salome an allowance, and that on this allowance together with his salary they might be able to rub along. But to accept such relief from Uncle Jeremiah, granted through ii.„ %,...^ ni3 ^■vu^ \vhom he nad snuDbed and thrust away— was not pleasant to contemplate. Whatever way Philip considered the meal set before him. he saw only humble pie, and humble pie is the least appetising of dishes. Phihp approached it as a sulky child does a morsel DEPOSED. 251 wli>':h his nurse requiies him to eat, without consuming vvhich he must expect no pudding. He walked round it, he looked at it from near, then he drew back and considered it at long range, then he touched it, then smelt it, then turned his back on it, then — with a grumble — began to pick a tew crumbs ofT it and put them between his lips. He went to bed at last, unresolved, angry with himself^ angry with Salome, angry with his uncle, pnd "ngry with the baby who was sobbing in the nursery. Phihp's experiences had all been made in spiral form, they were ever turning about himself, and through each revolution attained a higher level, it was still made about the same centre. There is a family likeness in minds as well as in noses and eyes and hair ; and in this Philip resemb!v.d his aunt, but with the difference that he was governed by n sirong sense of rectitude, and that nothing w(^uld induce him lo deviate from W'iat in believed to be just, whereas his aunt's principles T. ere fjexble, and governed only by her own interests. In tht s days in which we live, sociaHsm is in the air, that is *n r,ay. i: is talked of and professed, but whether by any is pra> ised I am inclined to question. For socialism i iake to mean everyone for everyone else, and no one for himself, and this is a condition contrary to the nature of man, for men are all more or less waterspouts, vortices, attracting to themselves whatever comes within their reach, and to be actuated by a centrifugal, not a centripetal, force is the negative of individu- ality. We stalk our way over the ocean, drawing up through our skirts every drop of water, every seaweed, and crab and fish and mollusc that we can touch, and whirl them round and round ourselves, and only cast them away and distribute them to others when they are of no more use to ourselves. Every climatic zone through which Philip had passed had served to feed and build up the column of his self-esteem ; the rugged weather in furnished lodgings, and the still seas into which he had entered by his uncle's death, and by his marriage. Nothing had broken it down, dissolved its con- tinuity, dissipated its force. At sea, when a vessel encounters a waterspout, it dis- charges ordnance, and the vibration of the atmosphere caused by the explosion snaps the column and it goes to pieces. But would the shock caused by the return of Uncle Jeremiah, and the loss of position and wealth that this entailed, suffice to i 252 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. break the pillar of self-esteem that constituted Philip Penny- <:omequick ? Hardly ; for though touched in many ways, he could hold up his head conscious of his rectitude, he had managed the mill admirably, kept the accounts accurately, adapted himself to the new requirements perfectly. He could, when called upon, give up his place, but he would march forth "With all the honours of war. M CHAPTER XXXVn. ON THE LAKE. RS. SIDEBOTTOM had reached Lucerne very rumpled and dirty and out of temper, having travelled all night 'from Brussels, and having had to turn out and have her boxes cxammed at Thionville and Basle. She had scrambled through a wretched breakfast off cold coffee and a roll at Strasburg, at four o'clock in the morning, and then had been condemned to crawl along by a slow train from Strasburg to Basle, and by another still slower, from Basle to Lucerne. A night in a comfortable hotel had restored her wonderfully ; and when she took her place under the awning in the lake steamer, with a ticket in her glove for Fluelen, which she insisted on calHng Flew-ellen, she was in a contented mood, and inclined to patronize the scenery. The day was lovely, the water blue, Pilatus without his cap, and the distant Oberland peaks seen above the Brunig Pass were silver against a turquoise sky. " This," said Mrs. Sidebottom, dipping into "Murray's Handbook " to ascertain what it was proper to say, •• this is distinguished above every lake in Switzerland, and perhaps in Europe, by the beauty and sublime grandeur of its scenery." • 7^^^. P^^* ^^^ drifted a party of English tourists, also with '« Murray " in their hands and on their lips. " Oh, mamma!" exclaimed a young lady, "this lake is of very irregular shape, assuming near its west extremity the form of a cross. Do you see ? There is one arm, we are approach- ing another, and there is the leg." " My dear," said her mother, " don't say leg; it is im- prop^ ; say stem." " And, mamma, how true ' Murray ' is— is it not wo ^er- ful ! He says that at this part the shores of the lake are un- ON THE LAKE. 25S dulating hills clothed with verdure, and dotted with houses and villas. He really must have seen the place to describe it so accurately." " Good gracious ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom; and then,, after a pause, " Gracious goodness ! " Lambert Pennycomequick took no notice of his mother's exclamation, till a third " gracious goodness," escaping her like the discharge of a minute-gun at sea, called his attention to her, and he asked, " Well, what is it ? " As he received no answer, he said, "I don't believe in that honey served up at breakfast. It is not honey at all, but syrup in which stewed pears have soaked." " Upon my word ! " gasped Mrs. Sidebottom. " What is the matter, mother ? Oh, yes, lovely scenery. By George, so it is. I believe it is all a hoax about chamois. I have been told that t^ey knock goats on the head, and so the flesh is black, or ratner dark coloured, and it is served as chamois, and charged accordingly." •' This is extraordinary ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom. "Yes — first rate," said Lambert. "Our Yorkshire wolds don't quite come up > the Alps, do tl. ^y ? " But Mrs. Sidebottom was not lost in wonder at the beauty of the landscape, she was watching intently a gentleman in a light suit, of a military cast, wearing a white hat and a puggaree, with moustache and carefully curled whiskers, who was marching the deck alongside of another gentleman, stout, ordinary-looking, and comfortable in appearance, like a plump bulfinch. " Look at my watch ! " said the gentleman in the light suit, and as there were vacant places beside Mrs. Sidebottom,. the two gentlemen left pacing the deck and seated themselves on the bench near her. " Look at my watch! — Turned black, positively black, as if I had kept it against a vulcanized india-rubber stomach- belt. If you want evidence — there it is. I haven't cleaned it. No, I keep it as a memorial to me to be thankful to the beneficent heaven which carried me through — which carried me through. Mri bottc silver extended to be exhibited, the dingy colour that silver acquires when exposed to gas. " I wish, sir — I beg your pardon, my lord — you will excuse me, but by accident — by the merest accident — I caught sight 254 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I'l -Jl I ;f miha of your address and name on your luggage— I wish, my lord, I were gomg with you to Andermatt, and I would take you a promenade round the backs of the hotels, and let you smell- smell, my lord— as rich a bouquet of accumulated deleterious odours as could be gathered into one— odours, my lord, dipthceretical, typhoidiacal. You see my face— I have be- come mottled through blood-poisoning. I was gangrened at Andermatt by the deadly vapours there. I thank a merciful heaven, with my strong constitution and by the warning afforded by my watch, I escaped death. I always carry about with me a silver timepiece, not one of gold, for sanitary reasons— the silver warns me of the presence in the atmos- phere of sulphuretted hydrogen— of sewage gas— it blackens, as the arm of Lady Thingabob— I forget her name, perhaps she was of your lordship's family— as the arm, the wrist of her ladyship, was blackened by the grip of a spectre. I see you are bound for the Hotel du Grand Prince. I went there, and there I inhaled the vapours of death, or rather of disease; I moved to the Hotel Imperial, and was saved. There, and there only, the drainage is after English models, and there, and there only are you safe from the fumes of typhoid, the seeds of typhus, the corpuscules of diphtheria, and the— the —the what-d'ye-call-ems of cholera. You will excuse my speaking to you, perhaps, forcing myself— unworthy— on your distinguished self." *' Oh, certainly, certainly." " But when I saw your name, my lord, and considered what you are, and what the country would lose were you to run the risk unforewarned that I ran, I ventured to thrust myself upon you." " I am really most obliged to you." " Well— who is it said ' We are all one flesh, and so feel sympathy one with another ? ' Having suffered, my lord, suffered so recently, and seeing you, my lord, you. you— about— but there— not another word. Homo sum, nil humanum —but I forget the rest, it is long since I v^as at school, and I have not kept up my classics." " I really am most indebted to you— and you think that the Hotel Imperial— ' - o- — ";•■ " '*' ^ ''"'^ »"j sjiv---"^ icsicu, i nau ray oreain analyzed. There were diatoms in one, and baccilli in the other, and— I am alive, alive to say it ; thanks to the salu- brious air and the careful nursing of the Hotel Imperial." ON THE LAKK. 251 The nobleman looked nearly as mottled in countenance as. the other ; this was caused by the alarm produced by the revelations of his interlocutor. " Don't you think," he said, " that 1 had better avoid Andermatt ? " " On no account, my lord. You are safe at the Imperial. I cannot say that you will be safe elsewhere.' I ove been to Berne, to the University Professors to have the atmosphere of the several hotels analyzed for my own private satisfaction. It was costly — but what of that ? — it satisfied me. These are the results:— Hotel du Cerf— three decimal two of sulphu- retted hydrogen, two decimal eight of malarious matter, one,^ no decimal, of typhoidal germ. Hotel de la Couronne d'Or — three decimal one of sulphuretted hydrogen, five decimal three of compound fermenting putrifio bacteretic stuff. Hotel du Grand Prince—eight decimal oneof diphtheretic effluvium^ occasional traces of scarlet-fever germs, and a trace — a trace of trichinus spiralis." " Good heavens ! " — his lordship turned livid -" allow me,, sir, to shake your hand ; you have conferred on me a lasting favour. I shall not forget it. I was bound for the Hotel du Grand Prince. What about the Imperial ? " "Nothing— all salubrious, mountain air charged with ozone, and not a particle of deleterious matter in it." " I shall certainly go there— most certainly. I had tele- graphed to the Grand Prince ; but never mind, I had rather pay a forfeit and put up at the Imperial." " Would you mind, my lord, giving my card to the pro- prietor ? It will insure you receiving every attention. I was- there when ill, and am pleased to recommend the attentive manager. My name is Yeo— Colonel Yeo— Colonel Beaple Yeo, East India Company Service, late of the Bombay Heavy Dragoons. Heavies we were called — Heavies, my lord." •' Will you excuse me ? " said the stout little nobleman ; " I must run and speak to my Lady. 'Pon my word, this is most serious. I must tell her all you have been so good as to communicate to me. What were the statistics relative to the Grand Prince ? " " Eight decimal one-^all it eight of dipthoeretic effluvium^ traces of scarlct-fcvcr germs, and of trichinus spiralis. You know, my lord, how frightful, how deadly, are the ravages of that pest." •* Bless '■le ! " exclaimed his lordship, "these foreigners — b'. i fai Hi It 256 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. really they should not attempt to draw English — Englishmen and their families to their health resorts without making proper provision in a sanitary \ ay. Of course, for themselves, it doesn't matter ; they are foreigners, and are impervious to these influences ; or, it not, and carried off by them — well, But to English —it is outrageous ! I'll Mrs. Sidebottom in a low tone to her sake don't forget ; we must go to the they are foreigners ! talk to my Lady." *' Lambert," said son, " For goodness' Hotel Imperial." But low as she had spoken, her neighbour in the light suit heard her, turned round and saw her. Not the least abashed, he raised his hat, and with a flush of pleasure exclaimed, " Ah ! how do you do my dear madam — my dear, dear madam ? This is a treat — a treat indeed ; the unexpected is always doubly grateful." He looked round to see that his •lordship was out of hearing, and then said in a lower tone, " You misconstrued me — you misinterpreted me. I had guaranteed you fifteen per cent., and fifteen per cent, you should have had. If you have lost it, it is through want of confidence in me — in me— in Colonel Beaple Yeo, of the Bombay Heavies. Had you trusted me — but ah ! let bygones be bygones. However an explanation is due. I writhe under the imputation of not being above board and straight — straight as an arrow. But what can you do with a man like Mr. Philip Pennycomequick ? The landowners at Bridhng- ton got wind of the plan. They scented lodinopolis. Their greed was insatiable, they demanded impossible prices. There was nothing for it but for me to beat a retreat, make a strategic move to the rear, feign to abandon the whole thing, throw it up and turn my attention elsewhere. Then, when they were in a state of panic, my design was to reappear and buy the land on my own terms, not any more on theirs. Why, my dear madam, I would have saved the shareholders thous- ands on thousands of pounds, and raised the interest from perhaps a modest seven to twenty-five per cent., and a deci- mal or so more. But I was not trusted, the money confided to me was withdrawn, and others will make fortunes instead of us. I schemed, others will carry out my scheme. Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes, and you Icnow the resi,arati5hoves, and so on." Then Beaple Yeo stood up and handed his card to Mrs. Sidebottom sayii.g, You will at least do me this favour ON THE LAKE. 257 ! I'll give my card to the proprietor of the Hotel Imperial, and he will care for you as for a princess of the blood royal." Then he stalked away. Mrs. Sidebottom turned dejectedly to her son. •' Lamb, I believe I was premature. After all, there was management in that affair. Of course his was the right way to bring those landowners to their knees. Let us take a turn." Beaple Yeo had now attached himself to another party of strangers — tourists, whose acquaintance he had probably made at an hotel in Lucerne ; and he walked the deck with them. When they were fore, then Mrs. Sidebottom and her son were in the rear, but when they turned on their heels, then she turned also and walked aft, and heard their conver- sation during that portion of the walk. The subject was St. Bernard dogs, and apparently Beaple Yeo had some scheme connected with them, which he was propounding. " My dear sirs — when the St. Gothard tunnel is complete — answer me — what will become of the hospice ? To what use can it be put ?— It will be sold for a song, as not a travel- ler will cross the mountain when he can pass under it. For a song — literally for a ' song of sixpence.' Now, can you con- ceive of a place more calculated by nature as a nursery of Mount St. Bernard dogs — and the necessary buildings given flway — given lor nothing, to save them from crumbling into ruin. There is a demand, a growing demand for Mount St. Bernard dogs, that only wants a little coaxing to become a perfect furore. We will send one as a present to Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales. We will get in France an idea that the St. Bernard dog is a badge of the Republic, and that all true Republicans are jound to have Mount St. Ber- nard dogs. We will get some smart writers in America to dash off some sparkling articles in the illustrated m^^azines, and the demand becomes furious. Say the population of France is thirty-seven millions ; actually it is more, and of these, two-thirds — say twenty-five millions— are Republicans, and of these, one-half are in a position to buy Mount St. Ber- nard dogs, and we fan the paitisan fever to a height, by means of the press, which is easily done by dropping a few ' pounds into the hands o£ writers and proprietors. Say that orKi.f hirH oriKr r»f thncp> in a nncitinn tn hiiv the (\c\{t<;,, ar.tliallv ask for them — that makes five millions of Mount St. Bernard dogs to be supplied to France alone. Then consider Eng- land, if it becomes the fashion there, and it will become the 11 m 258 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. h ■ ■•'Wif r 111 t fashion, if the Princess of Wales accepts a dog from us, and walks about with one. Every lady of distinction, and then, in the next year, every servant girl, will want a St. Bernard dog. And further— I have calculated that we can feed a dog at les; than three farthings a day; say the total cost is a guinea. I have made enquiries and I find I shall be able to buy up the broken meat at a very low figure from the great hotels of Switzerland during the season. This will be con- veyed to the hospice and there frozen. So it v. ill keep and be doled out to the dogs daily, a i req lired. Lei v.s say that the interest on the outlay in purchasing the hosp c.e and in main- taining the staff of dog-keeper:; be one ^(uinea per dog; that makes the total outlay two guineas on each pup' and a pup a year old we shall not sell under ien pounds. Now calculate the proht. for yoj;; selves—eight pounds a dog, and four millions supplied io France alo-e to enthusiasts for the Republic, and quite two mil.'ijns to Eugjand io those who imitate Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales, and seven millions to the Unit( a States for Americans who copy French or English fashions, and yyii have a total of thirteen mii lions of dogs at eight pounds' each, a clear profit of one hundred and twenty-five millions. If we put the matter in decimals " The party turned and were before Mrs. Sidebottom. She could not hear what followed. " My dear Lamb," whispi red she, " did you hear that ? What a chance ! What a head the Colonel has ! *' At the next revolution Mrs. Sidebottom heard something more about the dog scheme. " You see, gentlemen, the splendid thing is that the dogs suffer from pulmonary complaints when in the plains, and will not breed away from the eternal snows— two great advantages to us. Shares— preference shares at ten pounds —are to be subscribed in full, others as called in at intervals of six months. I myself guarantee fifteen per cent., but as you see for yourselves, gentlemen, the scheme cannot fail to succeed and the profits will be overwhelming." " Are you going on to Andermatt ? " asked one of the gentlemen walking with Beaple Yeo. " Mn. «ir T ViQTro VioH 1 K'l.-l r^4■4-n^^. . ii_ _ ^ -._. . , ....r.. ,.c-.U a L/n^ a:.:.a.-^t\ , ytju. V,ail iiec lliC iraCCS in my face. I will also show you my watch, how it was black- ened. I have been ordered by my medical advisers to cruise up and down the lake of the Five Cantons, and inhale the air m us, and and then, Bernard eed a dog cost is a )e able to the great II be con- tp and be ^ that the in main- iog; that 1 a pup a calculate ind four i for the bose who ales, and ivho copy ■ thirteen it of one natter in )m. She lar that? Dmething the dogs lins, and vo great I pounds intervals ., but as Dt fail to e of the fiC traces IS black- to cruise e the air ON THE LAKE. 259 off the water till I am thoroughly restored. By the way, if you are going to the Hotel Imperial at Andermatt would you take my card to the proprietor ? He is interested about the dogs." Beaple Yeo now crossed the deck to a party that was clustered together at the bulwarks with an opera glass that was passed from hand to hand. It consisted of a tall man with a broad-brimmed hat, bushy black whiskers, a white tie and clerical coat, his wife, his sister and five daughters. A comfortable religiosity surrounded the group as a halo. Beaple Yeo raised his hat ; " Beg pardon, sir, a clergy- man ? " "Yes I am." *' And a dean, doubtless. You will excuse my interrupt- ing you, but I have ventured thinking you might hke to know about a very remarkable movement after the Truth in Italy, '" *^^ heart and centre of ignorance and superstition. Count Caprih is the leading spirit. It is no use, sir, as no doubt }'ou are aware, pulling at the leaves and nipping the extremi- ties of the Upas, you must strike at the root, and that is what my dear friend Count Caprili is doing. He is quite an evange- list, inspired with the utmost enthusiasm. I have here a letter from him descriptive of the progress the Truth is making in Rome—in Rome itself. It is in Italian ; do you read Italian, sir? " '• N~no, but, mother, can you ? " to his wife. " No, but Minny has learned it," of a daughter, who red- dened to the roots of her fair hair and allowed that if it were in print she might make it out. "Never mind," said Beaple Yeo, or Colonel Yeo as he now called himself, " I can give you the contents in a few words. A year ago his little congregation numbered twenty, it now counts one hundred and eighty-five, and at times even a couple of decimals more. At this rate he reckons that the whole of the Eternal City will have embraced the Truth in twenty-five years and two months, unless the eagerness to embrace it grows in geometrical instead of arithmetical pro- gression. In Florence, and Turin, the increase is even more rapid. Indeed, it may fairly be said that superstition is under, mined, and that the whole fabric will collapse. Between our- selves I know as a fact that the Pope when he heard of the successes of Count Caprili attempted to commit suicide, and has to be watched day and night, he is such a prey to des- StB f" i' £ i it- i-i * i. 260 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. i I • ii ' pair. You have perhaps seen my letters to the Archbishop of Canterbury on the subject ; they appeared in some of the papers. Only one thing is needed to crown the whole move- ment with success, and that is money. The Count has urged me to act as his intermediary — secretary and treasurer — as regards England and America, and I shall be most happy to forward to him any contributions I may receive." *' Dear me," said the dean, " this is most interesting. Have any of our bishops taken up the matter ? " In letters that I have they express the deepest interest in it." " I shall be most happy to subscribe a sovereign," said the dean, fumbling in his purse. " And I also," said his wife. *' And I as well," put in his sister. " I will note all in my book of contributions," said Yeo, receiving the money, and finding to his disgust that he had been given twenty-franc, instead of twenty-shilling pieces. " Would you mind, sir, if you go to—as I take it for granted you will — if you go to the Hotel Imperial " " Ah ! we were gomg to the Cerf." '' That is a very third-rate inn, hardly suitable for a dignitary of the Church. But if you will take my card, Beaple Yeo of the Bombay Heavies, to the proprietor of the Hotel Imperial, he will treat you well and be reasonable in his charges. He is most interested in the movement of Signor Caprili, and is a convert, but secretly ; ask him about the movement and he will open to you ; show him my card, and he will confide his religious views to you." " I am most obliged. We will certainly go to the Imperial. Ah mamma ! here we are at the landing-place." As Mrs. Sidebottom left the boat at the station which she called P'lue-ellen, she held out her hand to Colonel Yeo. '* I hope bygones will be bygones," she said. " I will take some shares in the St. Bernard dogs — preference shares, please." >gi IN HOTEL IMPERIAL. 261 CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN HOTEL IMPERIAL. SALOME had found her sister at the Imperial Hotel at Andermatt. Janet was one of those persons whose bodily condition varies with their spirits. When depressed she looked and indeed felt ill ; when happy she looked and felt as if nothing were the matter with her. Janet had been greatly tried by the double shocks of her husband's death and the discovery of her parentage. She had been taken into the secret because it could not be kept from her, when the man Schofield, alias Beaple Yeo, suddenly arrived at Mergatroyd, just after the flood and the disappearance of Jeremiah Penny- comequick, at the time when she was sharing her mother's room instead of Salome. Mrs. Cusworth at that time was in great distress of mind at the loss of her master and friend ; and when her brother-in- law, the father of the two girls whom she had brought up as her own, unexpectedly appeared and asked for money and clothing, she confided her difficulty to Janet, and between them they managed to bribe him to depart and leave them in peace. Mrs. Cusworth had sacrificed a large slice out of her savings to secure his departure, and ti'isted thereby to get rid of him for ever. When Janet returned to France she found everything in confusion ; the factory at Elboeuf was sto[.ped, the men who had been employed in it had assumed arms against the Germans, and were either shot, taken captive, or dispersed. Her sister-in-law was almost off her head with excitement and alarm for her children, three girls just out of school. Prussian officers had been quartered in her house, and had carried off some of her valuables, and ransacked the cellar for the best wines. Janet had caught cold that night in the train when it was delayed by the flood, on the way to Mergatroyd, and it had settled on her chest* and left a cou''^ -.ha; she- could not shake off. Anxiety and worry had told on her joyous disposition and deprived it of its elasticity. She gave way to dis- couragement. Her husband's affairs were unsettled, and could not be put to rights till the war and the results of the 9 m^^ w 262 THE PENNVCOMEgUICKS. 5 ! war wero over, and the current of ordinary business com- menced its sober, » ven flow. She had betAi ordered to Mentone for the winter, and then to spend the summer high up in the Alps, where the air was pure and bracing. She had come, accordingly, to Andermatt,. and her sister-in-law had sent her three school-girl daughters to be with her ; to look after her, Madame Labarte had said; to be 'ooked after by her, Janet found was expected. They wer, ny.e Ci...ugh girls, with simple minds, but it was a J {tonsthii'iy imposed on Janet at a time when she required cornplete relaxation from care. At Andermatt the fresh air was rapidly restoring Janet to her normal condition of cheerfulness, and was giving her back the health she lacked, when her father arrived, impecunious, of course, and 1 ...derstand that he had come there to be supported by her, and to get out of her what he could. It would have been bad enough to have this dreadful .nan there posing as her father had she been alone. It was far worse with the three girls, her nieces, under her charge, and in her dismay she had a relapse, and wrote off to Salome an agonizing entreaty to come to her aid. Janet had been left comfortably off, but till her husband's affairs were setth d it was not possible for her to tell what her income would really amount to. The factory was again working, a competent overlooker had been found, and a suit- able working partner taken into the firm to carry it on. In all probability Madame Baynes would be very well ofx, but at present she had not much ready money at her disposal Mr. Schofield, or Colonel Yeo, : s he pleased to cah i.im- self now, was a dift< rent looking man at tli,s time to i.he wretched object who had presented himself at Mergatr \d, asking for clothing and cash, rather more than a year ,o — indeed, eighteen months ago. He was well-dressed, trim, held himself erect and assumed a military air and some pom- posity, as though he world were go'ng well with him. He hau ■, arried awa} a httle, i)ut only a very litt^'^, of the nlunder from Bridhngton, and he knew very well that what he hau wouk^ r -)t last him long. It was satisfactory to have a well- to-do daughter to > 11 back on, whose purse he could dip his fingers into when they iiched. Bi.i Beapie Yeo could not be idle. He had an r. • ive mind and a ready invention, and he began operati'^ns on his ou i account, parth as tout on the lake steamerr^ t' Hotel Imp nal at Andermatt, receiving IN HOTEL IMPERUL. 263 .-, n t a fee for every tourist he sent to it, and partly by his specula- tions it 'ogs md missionaries. Janet would have run away from A orraatt, but for the three encumbrances whom it would 11. I. have been easy to move to a secret and precipitate flight wi Jiout explanations to them or their mother — exp' ma- tions which would have been awkward ; moreover, she feared that it w' uld be unavailing, as her father could easily dis- cover the way she had gone and follow her. There were onb three passes in addition to the road up from Amsteg by whicl she could leave, and it would not be possible for her to depart by any of these routes unknown to Colonel Yeo. Her first alarm and uneasiness abated when 1 e took himself off to tout on the lake ; and she resolved on remaining where she was till Salome came and gave her advice what course to pursue. Salome decided that it was the best policy to remain where they were, and not attempt flight. She saw that her sister was suffering, and she determined to remain with her, to protect and comfort her, and await " -hat the future had in store for herself. She naturally felt a great longing to be home with her baby, but at the same time she recognised th . the situation at home was not tolerable, tliat some change must take plaee before she could retiun to Mergatroyd. One day Colonel Yeo was in the sallr h-manger at the H6tel Imperial preparing for table dlidte, when a ady entered, well-dressed, dark haired, with fine eyes, and sw« pt up the room towards an alcove where were small tables, at which either a party sat that desired to be alone, or tourists not intending to dine at table d'hote but d la carte. She walked slowly, with a certain dignity, and attracted all eyes. Every head was turned to observe her, and her eyes, in return, passed over as mustering and apprising those who occupied their seats at the hie. She accepted ihe homage of interest she excited, as though it were hei own. What was her age ? She had arrived at that period of life at which for some time n woman stands still — she was no girl, and no one could say th <t she was passSe. " Waiter ! " called Colonel Yeo. " Yes, sir — in a m lu, sir." " Who is that ladj m t' %'rey dress with red trimming ? " " Grey dress, sir? The ; wmt lady with the little husband ? " " Nonsense, that distinguished lady young — there at the table in the alcove." " Yes sir — don't know, sir Will enquire." II II i \' ><•' 264 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. M Off skipped the waiter to carry round the soup, and forgot to enquire. " Waiter !" called Colonel Yeo, to another, the heaidgarfon: " Who is that prepossessing young lady, yonder ? " " Lady, sir ? Don't know her name — I have seen her often everywhere, at Homburg, Baden-Baden, Milan." " What is she ? " " Do you mean of what nation, sir ? — I believe American* Said to be very rich — worth millions." " Worth millions ! " echoed Colonel Yeo. " Can I change my seat and get near her ? " D' ring dinner Colonel Yeo could not keep his eyes off her. " Worth millions, and so good-looking ! " Which would interest her most — his dogs or his missionaries ? — or could she be interested in himself ? He called for champagne. He put one arm over the back of his chair, held his champagne-glass in the other hand, and half-turned, looked hard at the lady. She observed his notice of her, and their eyes met. Her eyes said as distinctly as eyes can speak, " Look at me as much as you will, I expect to be admired, I do not object to be admired, freely afford to all who take pleasure in beautiful objects, th« gratification of contemplating me. But who are you ? " " Waiter," said Beaple Yeo, calling the head garpn, " if— by chance that lady wants to know who I am— just say that I am Colonel Yeo of the Bengal Heavies— a claimant for the Earldom of Schofield." At a table near that occupied by the lady sat Salome, Tanet and the thico young girls Labarte. An arrangement had been come to with Yeo that he was not to associate with them, to hold aloof, and to receive money for doing this. He had got what he could for the time being, out of his daughter Janet, and was therefore inclined to devote his energies to new arrivals. " Garcon," called the lady in grey and red. "Desnite, M'selle." " Who is that gentleman yonder, drinking champagne ?" " M'selle, the colonel ! c'est un milord.'' " English ?" «' But certainlv." " Rich ?" " Rich ! the Colonel ! rich ! Mon dieu ! Cest un Milord Anglais .'" IN HOTEL IMPERIAL. 265 " Is he staying here long ?" " Ah, M'selle! Where else could he stay ? All the season." •♦ What is his title ?" '' Mon Dieii I I can't say — Scoville ? Scoville ? liut yes, an earl — Comte de Scoville, I believe, M'selle." " Waiter — should he or anyone else enquire who i nni, say an American — a miUionaire, as I told you before." " He has already asked," said the waiter, with a knowing look. In the alcove where the lady sat at a table by herself was also a larger table, as already said, occupied by Janet and her party, and the lady in grey and red attracted the attention of the girls. These three girls were much alike ; they ranged in age from sixteen to nineteen, had dark eyes and fresh cheeks, looked a mixture of English and French blood, and though they spoke English with their aunt and Salome, they spoke it with a foreign accent, and when they talked to each other naturally fell into French. They were not beautiful, were undeveloped girls without much character apparently. The strange lady evidently exercised their minds, and they looked a good deal at her, and passed low remarks to each other concerning her. Their curiosity was roused, and when she was not at her place they searched the visitors' book for her name, and for some in- formation about her. " Ma Tante," pleaded the eldest, " which do you think she is of all these on this page ?" " Mais — Claudine, how can I tell ?" " Oh ! Ma Tante — do ask the waiter." " But why, Claudine ? She does not interest me." " Oh, we are so puzzled about her ; she looks so aristo- cratic and dresses so well, and has so many changes. She must employ a Parisian milliner. Oh, we do wish we knew where she got that charming walking dress of grey and gold." " Garfon!" Janet Baynes called a waiter. " Who is the lady who sits at this httle table here ?" " Madame — a rich American, a millionaire, of New York." " A millionaire !" The h ads of the young ladies went together, and as the lady entered ail their eyes watched her with eagerness. So beautiful, so distinguished looking, so wealthy. " What is her name, waiter ?" " Mademoiselle Du Rhame." .» B tB> J# I 266 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. H m " A French name ?" •• Ah, madame, it stands there in the visitor's book," and he pointed to Artemisia Durham, Chicago, U.S.A. It was not possible for the American lady to fail to observe the interest she excited in the young girls. She saw their heads go together, then fly apart when she appeared ; at table she caught their dark eyes watching her, and when they saw that they were noticed, away flew their eyes like scared birds. Miss Durham condescended to look at the girls with a half smile ; she did not object to their admiration, and she did not court it. What was more remarkable than the interest awakened in those children was that which she certainly aroused in Salome. There was a something, a mystery, a fascination in the woman that held Salome and drew her towards the stranger. She felt that this woman was her reverse in every particular, a woman with experience and knowledge of the world, with a power of making herself agreeable when she chose, and to whomsoever she chose. Salome had spent her life in a very narrow sphere, had made few acquaintances, had not had wide interests, and though she was well educated, had no extended range of ideas. Her position had ever been uncertain ; she had been neither a member of the lower artisan class, nor accepted as an equal by those belonging to the upper class — that is the employing class in Mergatroyd. Her mother had been housekeeper to Mr. Pennycomequick, and consequently she had not been received as a lady by such as regarded them- selves as the ladies of Mergatroyd— the manufacturers" wives and daughters, and those of the doctor, and the solicitor, and the parson. This ambiguity of position had in one manner made her strong and independent in character, but in another, timid and reserved. Where she knew she had duties to perform, there she acted without hesitation, but in social matters, in everything connected with Hfe in the cultured world, with its fashions and etiquettes, she was doubttul and uncomfortable. She was now in the presence of a woman who moved with self-consciousness and assurance in that very sphere in which Salome was bewildered ; consequently she watched Miss Durham with wonder, interest, and a desire to know/ llpr. pnH wrrpcf Vi^^- coorof f»-/-.rn U^^ TU^j- -t,-~ i .-.. , .. .1... ,.,.,.,^^ tt Oiii iii_i . i nat auc Wii3 a guuu woman and worth knowing, deserving of confidence and regard, Salome never doubted. Guileless herself, she believed everyone else to be without guile. IN HOTEL IMPERIAL. 267 When Janet Baynes thought that the girls had been too forward, almost discourteous, in staring at the stranger, she looked apologetically at Miss Durham, who met the look with a smile that said, plainly as words, " Allow them to stare at me — it amuses them and does not hurt me — they may profit by a study of me. Queens of beauty, of fashion, or of wealth expect to be looked at." Then Mrs. Baynes smiled in reply, and her smile said, " Indeed, I cannot wonder at these girls admirmg you, for you are deserving of admiration." Whether this conversation of glances would have gone any further may be doubted, had it not been that the French- speaking waiter who had attended on the ladies, disappeared. Whether he was taken ill, or whether caught doing wrong, he had been dismissed, or whether he had been enticed else- where by a higher wage, nobody knew and nobody cared to ask. Waiters are no more thought about by guests than are the mules and horses employed on expeditions. He was succeeded by a German or German-Swiss who could not speak French, and only an unintelligible Enghsh ; and the demoiselles Labarte and Madame Baynes on principle would not have asked for a bit of bread in German had they known how to do so. Salome knew little or no German, and the ladies were in difficulties. Claudine was out of sorts — some- what feverish, but nothing serious — and her aunt advised that she should drink orgeat instead of wine. The waiter was puzzled. ^^ Ach ! eine Drelwrgel. Freilich, freilich, bestelle gleiclt,'^ and he rushed off to find an organ grinder with a marmot. Then Miss Durham good-naturedly interfered, allayed the wrath of the ladies at the inherent Teutonic stupidity which never can do right, and ordered what was really required. The orgeat broke the ice, conversation began, and next day the American lady was seated at the same table as the Labartes, with Salome and Janet. It would be impossible for the latter to get on with the stupid, stubborn German waiter, unassisted by someone who was able to speak and understand the language of barbarians. At first there was but the exchange of ordinary courtesies, but now that the three girls were able to speak to the stranger, they liardly con- tained their attentions within ordinary bounds ; they rivalled each other who should gain pre-eminent favour with the lady who wore such charming toilettes. The girls were triumphant ; they had formed the acquaint- Il ii II' 1 > itf !'^ it* 1^ , h ^1 :, . -} 268 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ance ; that was the one advantage that grew out of a German waiter. Salome was pleased she could now learn of this brilliant accomphshed woman ; and Janet was satisfied because she was feeling dull herself, and wanted a lively com- panion to relieve the tedium. Miss Durham had plenty to say for herself. She was clever, amusing, interesting. She had seen much of the world— knew most watering-places, baths, and health resorts in Europe. The meals, which had passed somewhat heavily before, now became gatherings full of liveHness. Janet brisked up, felt better in health and looked quite well, pro- posed excursions and schemed picnics. The whole party nov/ found so much to talk about that they were reluctant to leave the table. Suddenly a pallor and tremor came over Mrs. P^y^es- She looked up. Beaple Yeo was standing, white hat in hand, with the puggary trailing on the floor, near the table." " I take the hberty," he said ; " introduce me." Janet looked at Salome, and Salome at Janet. "I see," said Yeo; "my relatives are in doubt how to introduce me whilst my claim is being presented in the Upper House. Call me Colonel Yeo, of the Bengal Heavy Dra- goons. Hang my title! I shall find the coronet heavy enough when it is fitted to my brow ; the eight pearls— eight pearls ; and as many strawberry leaves— strawberry leaves. 1 will not assume my title till it is adjudged to me by the House of Lords. You know your History of England. The attainder was for rebellion, and I now reassert my claim to the Earldom of Schofield." " And I," said the American lady, " am Artemesia Dur- ham, of Chicago." im M f CHAPTER XXXIX. TWO WOMEN. YOU will excuse me, I know you will," said Yeo, looking from one to another, but especially at the American, but 1 have just been informed that there are chamois visible on a mountain shoulder, high, high, high up— and as there is an excellent telescope— a telescope— outside, I thought I would make so bold as to interrupt an animated conversation to bring to your notice this interesting fact." TWO WOMEN. 269 "Thank you— I do not wish to see chamois," said Salome, slowly and coldly. " Nor I— I do not care to expose myself to the sun," said Janet. " Oh, aunt ! oh, aunt ! But they are so shy, so rare ' " from the three Labarte girls. " Really, for my part," said Miss Durham, " I am curious to see them. Though I have been before in the Alps I have never had the good fortune " *' Then allow me to conduct you ! " exclaimed Colonel Yeo, gallantly. "Thank you, sir, I can find the telescope myself" answered the American lady. Then, to her companions: ' You will excuse my running off. I really am desirous of seemg chamois." She sailed through the salle-d-manger, with Beaple Yeo prancmg after her, hat in hand and puggary waving The Labartes looked at their aunt pleadingly, " Very well, girls ; if you wish, go after Miss Durham " and away scampered the three. ' " Oh, Salome ! " sighed Janet, " I cannot bear him ' He promised not to interfere with us." Salome sighed also. " We must bear with him a little longer He will find this place dull and take himself off." c Cf^\\^^^^^^' "^^^^ ^°^^ ^^ "^^^n about being Earl of Schoheld ? About the pearls and strawberry-leaves ? " " Money — of course— always money." " I wish I had not let the girls go after him— to the teles- cope. •« It is a pity— but Miss Durham is there." " Yes, and with her they are safe. You like her ? " "I admire her. I think I like her. If I were a man I should tall madly in love with her, but " " But what, Salome ? " " My dear, I don't know." In the meantime Beaple Yeo was adjusting the telescope peering through it, and pressing on Miss Durham to look just T .2"^ P?'"^' ^^ ' quick-before they move. Then asking It jxie sigiit were right, peering again, wiping the lens with his silk handkerchief, and finally when either the chamois had disappeared or the focus could not be got right, abandoning the telescope altogether to the three girls. " One, two, three churches here," said Mr. Yeo, " And m it 270 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. 1 j i j ri one a pilgrimage chapel. You have perhaps seen some friars in snuff-coloured habits prowling about. Shocking, is it not ? Signor Caprili— you have heard of the extraordinary efforts he is making to spread the Truth, the naked Truth— I mean. I beg pardon, the unvarnished Truth. Are you interested m missionary enterprise ? " " Not in the least. Superstition is charmingly picturesque. How gracefully those towers and spires stand out agamst the mountains ! And that chapel perched on a rock. I would not have it abolished for the world. We have not such things in America — we come to the Old World to see them." " Then, perhaps dogs," said Yea " You are interested in Mount Saint Bernard dogs, and would, no doubt, like to introduce one across the ocean to your fellow-countrywomen. Magnificent creatures, and so noble in character ! How their heroism, their self-sacrifice, their generosity, stand out in con- trast with our petty human vices! Verily I think we might with advantage study the dog. I do not mind confiding to you, Madam, that a colossal scheme is on foot for the establish- ment of an emporium of these noble creatures, and that money only is needed to float it." " I assure you," said Miss Durham, " I am not in the least interested in dogs." " Not as a speculation ? " " Not even as a speculation." Beaple Yeo was silenced. " Excuse me," said Miss Durham, " you were saying some- thing about strawberiy leaves— the white Alpine strawberry is delicious." " Oh ! you misunderstand me," said Yeo, elevating him- self to his full height, removing his hat, shaking the puggary and putting on his hat again, " I was alluding to the coronet of an earl to which I lay claim." " Then, you are not an earl yet ? " " I am not one, and yet I am one. The Earldom of Scho- field was attaindered— attaindered at the Jacobite rebellion. Mv trreat-errandfather took the wrong side and suffered accord- ingly—suffered ac— cor— ding— ly. The attainder was but for awhile. Preston Pans was 1745 ; CuUoden, 1746, April the sixteenth, and my great -grandfa<h=^r's attainder next year, attainder for one hundred and twenty-five years— which lapses this year, one eight seven two. The Earldom is secure— I TWO WOMEN. 271 have but to take it up— to take it up ; in other words resume it, and Beaple Yeo is Earl Schofield." Salome and Janet appeared to call the three girls to them^ and were a little surprised to find the Colonel and the Ameri- can young lady already on intimate terms. They were seated on a bench, side by side, and Colonel Yeo was gesticulating with his hand and whisking his puggary in explanation of the Schofield peerage claim, was following the genealogical tree on the palm of one hand with the finger of the other ; was waving away objections with his hat, and clenching arguments by clapping both hands on his knees. He was a man so richly endowed by nature with imagination that he could not speak the truth. There are such men and women in the world — to whom romance and rhodomontade is a necessity, even when no object is to be gained by saying what is not true. Some people embroider on a substratum of fact, but Beaple Yeo, and others of the like kidney, spin the threads and then weave their own canvas out of their own fancies, and finally embroider thereon as imagination prompts. Darkness set in, that night as on every other, and most of the tourists had retired to bed, wearied with their walks and climbs, and those tarrying at Andermatt had also gone into the uncomfortable Swiss-German beds, tired with having no- thing to do. Only two were awake, in separate wings of the hotel. One was Salome, the other the American stranger. Salome had two candles lighted on the table, and had been writing to Philip. She sat now, looking through the open window at the starry sky, with pen in hand, uncertain how to continue her letter. She wrote to her husband every few days, and expected from him, what she received without fail, letters informing her of the health and progress of the baby. His letters were formal and brief. When al)0ut to write he visited the nursery, enquired whether there were particulars to be sent to Mrs. Pennycomequick, and wrote verbatim the report of the nurse. Salome had, indeed, only received two letters, and the last had surprised and overwhelmed her. It contained news of the reappearance of Mr. Jeremiah. Her delight had been exceeding ; its excess was now passed, and she sat wondering what would be the result of this return on the fortunes of Philip, and on their relations to each other. Philip's letter had been silent on both these points. He merely stated that his uncle had returned, was in robust health, and added a brief account of the circumstances of his escape and Ifali PI i Ht ffir flj^n ?; 1 Wm n 1 ^B 1 ■■ b 1 li I 272 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. recovery. Not a word in his letter about his desire to see her again, not a hint that he was ready to forgive the wrong un- intentionally done him. Both letters were stiff and colour- less as if they had been business epistles, and many tears had they called from Salome's eyes. Very different were her letters to him. Without giving utterance to her love, every line showed that her heart yearned for her husband, her baby, and for home. She wrote long letters, hoping to interest him in what she and her sister were about ; she described the scenery, the novel sights, the flowers — she even enclosed two forget-me-nots with a wish that he would lay one on her baby's lips. She made no allusion to the past, and she did not tell him of her present trouble with Beaple Yeo, her father. She shrank from informing him that the man he hated was at Andermatt, the terror and dis- tress of her sister and herself. She had written a letter to Uncle Jeremiah, to enclose in that to her husband, and in that was not an expression which could lead him to imagine that her husband was estranged from her. She left this note open, that Philip might look at it if he pleased, before de- livering it. She had broken off in the midst of her letter to Philip to write this, and now she resumed the writing to her husband. She was describing the hotel guests, and had come to an account of the Chicago heiress. She had written about her beauty, her eyes, her carriage, her reputed wealth, only her dresses she did not describe, she knew they would not interest a man. Then she proceeded to give some account of her qualities of mind and heart, and thereat her pen was stayed. She knew nothing of either. She had imagined a good deal — but positively had no acquaintance with the lady on which to form an opinion. What was there in the lady that so fascinated her ? She was attracted to her, she felt the profoundest admiration for her — and yet she was unable to explain the reason of the attraction. It was the consciousness that in this stranger were faculties, experiences, knowledge she had not — it was an admiration bred of wonder. She had no ambition to be like her, and she was not envious of her — but she almost wor- shipped her, because she was strong in everythmg that she, Salome, was weak. That she was, or might be weak in every- thing wherein Salome was strong never occurred to her humble mind. Then, still holding her pen, and still looking dreamily into the night sky, Salome passed in thought to her ' TWO WOMEN. 273 own situation, rendered doubly difficult by her father having attached himself to her sister. She could not desert Janet under the circumstances. She must be at her side to protect her from his rapacity and insolence. And yet she yearned with all the hunger of a mother's heart for her baby, that she might clasp it to her and cover its innocent face and hands and feet with kisses. And Philip . She loved him also. with the calm unimpassioned love that springs out ot duty. She had liked him since first she saw him, and the liking had developed into love— a quiet, homely love, without hot hre in it, and yet a true, steady, honest love. She could not believe that her husband mistrusted her assurance that she had not knowingly deceived him. She did not know which was the most potent force acting on his mind-hatred of the man who was her father and anger at being unwitting y brought into relationship with him, or dread of the scandal that might come of the knowledge of the relationship. She had no conhdence that her father would not become again involved in some dis- ffraceful fraud which would bring his name before the pubhc; and this dread, of course, must weigh on Philip as well Beaple Yeo had already attempted to express money out ot her. She was the wife of a rich Yorkshire manufacturer, and Tanet was the widow of a rich Normandy manufacturer. He looked upon both as squeezable persons, only at hrst his efforts to squeeze had been directed upon Janet, who had not a husband to oppose him. Salome, however, saw that he would not be at rest till he had extorted money from Philip through her, and the dread of this kept her in constant unrest. How--she now asked herself, or the stars at which she was looking— how would the return of Jeremiah affect Philips position and relieve her of this fear ? If Jeremiah resumed the factory then Philip would be no longer wealthy, and a prey for her father to fall upon. As she sat thus, thinking and looking at the stars, so m the furthest wing of the same house was Artemisia Durham, also thinking and looking at the stars. She had extinguished her lights, and stood at the window. She was partly un- dressed, her dark hair flowed about her shoulders, and her . ou - 1 1 U 11 — .,r ^oofinrr r,n tPP WlfldOW aims were oare. one uau iici ciuu -.• rr..-....j>, --- »■' - sill, and her chin was nestled into her palm, her . ngers clenched on her lips. Her brows were contracted into a scowl. The face was no longer set, haughty in its beauty, and yet with a condescending smile ; it was now even haggard. « ■^ f 274 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. and over it contending emotions played in the starlight, alter- ing its expression, unresisted, undisguised. She thought of the admiration she had excited in the schoolgirls, and in their elders, the two ladies in deep mourn- ing. A flicker of contempt passed over her countenance. What was the admiration of three half-grown girls to her ? Salome had attracted -her notice more than Janet. She had observed Salome, whilst unseen by her, and thought she had made out her character— ordinarv, duty-loving, conscientious, narrow. A character of all others most distasteful to Arte- misia. She put her hands to her brow and pressed them about It. " So, so," she muttered. " To have always an iron crown screwed tight round the brain. Insufferable." Then she shivered. The night air was cold in the Alps at that elevation. She fetched a light shawl of Barfege wool and wrapped it round her, over her bare arms, and leaned both elbows of the folded arms on the window. Her thoughts again recurred to Salome, and she tried to scheme out the sort of life that would commend itself to such as she — a snug English home, with a few quiet, respectable servants, and a quiet, respectable gardener ; a respectable and quiet husband ; and a pony trap, in the shafts of which trotted a quiet and respectable cob , improving magazines and sober books read in the house ; occasional dull parties given, at which the clergy would predominate, and sing feeble songs and talk about their parishes ; and then one or two quiet, respectable children would arrive who would learn their lessons exactly, and strum on the piano at their scales. Artemisia's lips curled with disgust. Her hands clenched under the shawl, and she uttered an exclamation of anger and loathing. And what, she considered, had she herself to look to ! She gazed dreamily at the stars, and tears rose in hei eyes and trickled down her cheeks. Then, ashamed of her weakness, she left the window and paced her room— up and down, up and down— and it was as though through the open window^ out of the night, streamed in dark forms, ugly recollections, uncomfortable thoughts that crowded the room, filled every — ..^-. .......^,p.n,^J 5_vcij uOuK — canie m inicKcr, anu aarKer, and more horrible, and she went to the window with a gasp of fear and shut out the night wind and the gleam of the stars, hoping at the same time to stop the entry of those haunting memories and hideous shapes. TWO MEN. 275 The street window would not shut them out ; the room was full of them, and their presence oppressed her. She could endure them no more. She struck a light and kmdled the candles in the room. What was that on her dressing-table ? Only a little glass full of wild strawberry leaves and fruit one of the admirmg 1 abarte girls had picked and given to her and insisted on her taking to her room. Artemisia laughed. She took the strawberries out of the water. She unclasped a necklet that was about her throat on which were Roman pearls. She put it around her head, and thrust the strawberry leaves in between the pearls, then looked at herself in the glass and laughed, and as she laughed all the shadow-figures and ghostly recollections went tumbling one over the other out of the room by the keyhole, leaving her alone laughing, part ironically, part triumphantly, before the glass, looking at herself in her extemporised coronet. ii CHAPTER XL. TWO MEN. IF Jeremiah Pennycomequick supposed that he could slip back into the old routine of work without attracting much attention, and without impediment, he was quickly undeceived His reappearance in Mergatroyd created a profound sensation. Everyone wanted to see him, and everyone had a hearty word of welcome. He was surprised at the amount of feeling that was manifested. He had lived to himself, seen little society, nevertheless he suddenly discovered that he had been popular. Everyone with whom he had been connected in however small a way respected him, and showed real pleasure at his return. The men at the mill— factory hands— would shake hands again and yet again, their honest and somewhat dirty faces shining with good will ; the factory girls came about him with dancing eyes and " Eh ! but ah'm reet fain to see thee back again ! " The little tradespeople in Mergatroyd— the chemist, me oaker, mu giui:ci, lan udt. ui men jEiv^-j^j r»!f t. .•-- j-- » to give a word of congratulation. The brother manufactu- rers—those who had been rivals even— called to see him and express their pleasure. The wives also dropped in— they could not await the chance of seeing him, they must come to ^^1 276 THE PEN TYCOMEQUICKS. IM: J! his house and both see the man returned from the dead, ai d learn from his own Hps why he had made them all relieve he had periKied. To all he gave the same account— he had oeen ill, and when he recovered found that he was already adjudj^l^ed dead, and he resolved not to undeceive his relatives till he had seen how his nephew " fr im 1 "-that is the word he used— an expressive Yorkshire word t: .t means the fitting and shaping of a man for a place new to him. Near Mergatroyd was a spring of waf or called " Cahfornia." It had Its origin thus. The owner of a field fancied there was coal beneath the surface, and he hired borers who perforated the several strata that underlay his turf till they were stopped by the uprush of water, that played like a fountain for many months and remained as a permanent spr ng. The owner had made great boast of the fortune he was going to make out of his coal mine, and when he came on nothing but water the people nick-named this spring California. But it was no ordinary spring; the water was so charged with gas that when a match was held to it, flames flashed and flickered, about It. The water was so soft as to be in great req- est for tea-making. "Eh," said an old woman, " Californey water be seah (so) good, tha wants nowt but an owd 1 ettle and t water to mak' th' best o' tea." It seemed to Jeremiah as if he had tapped a CaL:ornia, a tountain of sweet, flashing:, bounding aflfection. He was muved, flattered by it, and greatly surprised, for it was wholly Uijauticipated. He was ignorant what he had done to orca.sjon it. But, indeed, a great deal of genuine regard and attach- mer.t grows imperceptibly about a man who has lived for a long time in a place without making any demands on his neighbours, has been just, reliable, and blameless in life. All this latent regard now manifested itself. Philip was still in the house of his uncle a week after the reappearance of the latter. Jeremiah had not been able to go through the accounts and examine the condition of the business as thoroughly as he had intended. He had been distracted by visitors, and his mind unsettled by absence and by astonishment and gratification at the manifestation of good- will provoked by his return. He had said nothing more to Fhihp about leaving ; Philip, however, had been in the little town enquiring for lodgings, but could find nothing that would suit. In that small place it was not usual for furnished TWO MEN. 277 lodgings to be let. There was indeed a set of rooms over the the baker s, but they were overrun by cockroaches ; at the chemist's were two vaca oonis, but no accommodation for the nurse and baby. ^^ ;ie had to face mother difficulty : the nu se was young d good-looking, and here was no saying what scandal m.ght be aroused by his migrating to lodgnigs with this nurse, if his wife did not rf 'urn to him. At the draper's there were rooms, but they had a north aspect, and looked cold an^l damp. There was a cottage, unfurnished^ he mig It take, but th it adjoined a shoddy mill, and the atmospiiere was clouded with ' devil's dust," injurious to the lungs. Moreover, how cotild he purchase furniture when he had no money ? His condition was uncertain, his prospects tW fro. n speaking to his uncle about them till s thorough investigation of the state of iiatured his opinion on Philip's maiiage- , also, Jeremiah had not as yet decided done with regard to his nephew, and it undefined, he shr; Jeremiah had nia the business and ment of it. Perh on what was to be would be injudicious to press him to a decision. In the mean- time the uncertainty was distressing to Philip. He read his wife's letters with mingled feehngs. He could decide nothing with respect to her till his own future was made clear to him. He still harboured his resentment against the imposition, and, though he now no longer thought that Salome had been privy to it, he could not surmount the repugnance evoked by the fact of being related to tliat un- principled rogue, Schofield. He was alive to the danger of such an alliance. Schofield was not the man to neglect the advantages to be gained by having a son-in-law — a man of character, position and substance. If Philip sank to being a mere clerk the fellow would be an annoyance no more, but as he prospered, and in proportion as he made his way, gained the respect of his fellow-men, and enlarged his means, so would his difficulties with Schofield increase. The fellow would be a nuisance to him continually. If Schofield made himself amenable to the law, then his own connection with the daughte of a man in prison or a convict, would be a reproach, and a scandal. If the scoimdrel were at large, he would be an annoyance from which he never could hope to shake him- self free. The letters from his wife did not please him. Clearly Janet was not so ill as had been represented to him ; not so ill as to require her sister there, especially as she had three nieces II MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1^ 2.8 3.2 m I 4.0 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ /APPLIED IK/MGE Inc ^^ 1653 East Main Street S".S Rochester, New York 14609 USA '-^ (716) 482 - 0.300 - Phone ^= (716) 288- 5989 - Fax 278 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. with her. He was uncomfortable about his wife — he was un- comfortable because his future was vague, and he associated the annoyance this caused him with her absence, and he put it, unconsciously, to her account. He did not consider what his own conduct had been, and how he had almost driven her from the house and from her child, and he found fault with her for deserting him and the babe so readily on a frivolous excuse. No doubt Salome was enjoying herself; she was so full of admiration over the scenery, the flowers, so struck with the variety of life she met with. What did she think of his situa- tion without certain prospects ? A nice party they formed at Andermatt — the five ladies — and Janet was well enough to enjoy excursions. The efforts of Salome made to interest him annoyed him. He did not want to be interested ; he resented her taking interest in what she saw. And then, what about this stranger, this American lady, travelling by herself, with her pretty becoming dresses, who had attached herself to the party ? Who was she ? What were her belongings ? What her character ? Salome had no right to form a friendship, hardly an acquaintance, without first consulting him. It was very doubtful whether a lady, young and beautiful, who travelled alone, was a desirable person to know ; it was by no means unlikely that Salome would find out when too late that she had associated herself, and drawn the three Labarte girls into acquaintanceship with a. woman who ought to be kept at a distance. Ladies travel- ling alone should invariably be regarded with suspicion. JLadies never ought to be alone— unmarried ones, he added hastily, remembering that he had allowed his own wife to make the journey to Andermatt unprotected. Unmarried ladies belong to families, and travel with their mothers or aunts, or some female relation ; if quite young they go about in flocks with their governess. Single ladies ! He shook his head. Salome really was inconsiderate. She acted on impulse, without thought. If she had been forced into conversation with this person she should have maintained her distance, and next day have contented herself with a bow, and the day after have been short-sighted, and not observed her at all. 1 hat was how he had behaved toward male acquaintances whom he did not think worth cultivating as friends. Acquaint- ances can always be dropped. The hand can be rigid when grasped for a shake, or can be twisting an umbrella, or be behind the back, or in a pocket. TWO MEN. 279 or Salome should have considered in making friends that there were others to be thought of besides herself, and that he radically disapproved of association with persons unattached. In the last of the three letters he had received from his wife a whole side had been taken up v,\ description of the single lady ; it was obvious that this person, whoever she was, had set herself to gain influence over Salome, while Salome, inexperienced, was unable to resist, and the purpose of the stranger she did not divine. He became irritated at the expressions used by his wife concerning this fascinating stranger. He entertained a growing aversion for her. He was quite sure that she was not a proper person for Salome to associate with. He took up the letter, and putting his hands behind his back, paced the room. He was thoroughly out of humour with himself and with his wife, and as it never occurred to him that he should ven: his dissatisfaction on himself, he poured it out on Salome. A tap at the door, and following the tap in came Jeremiah. "Look here!" exclaimed the old man, as he entered,. *' Here is a pretty kettle of fish. When is Salome returning ? '* ' I do not know," answered Philip, stiffly. " Have you heard from her." " I have." " And she says nothing about returning ? " " Not a word. She seems to be enjoying the Alpine air and scenery — and making friends." There was a tone of bitterness in these last words. " But — she must return," said Jeremiah. " There is an upset of the whole bag of tricks. What do you suppose has happened ? " " I have not the least idea." '• The cook had fits yesterday ; that was why the dinner was spoiled. She has fits again to-day, and there will be no dinner at ail. She has turned the servants out of the kitchen ; they are sitting on the kitchen stairs, and she is storming within — and — I am convinced that the fits are occasioned by brandy- I sent her some ^esterday when I was told she was in convulsions, and that \/as adding fuel to the fire. It is a case of D.T., I tear. There is a black cat in the kitchen — or she thinks so, and is hunting it, throwing kettles and pots and pans at it — has smashed the windows, and most of the crockery. The maids are frightened. I have sent for the 280 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ■'■i police ; come with me. We must break open the kitchen door, and seize and bind the mad creature." " It will put us in a somewhat ridiculous position," said Philip. " Had we not better wait till the constable arriveb, and hand her over formally to him ? " " And in the meantime allow her to smash everything the kitchen contains. Come on." The old man led the way, and Philip, first plucking at his shirt collars to make sure they were right, followed. They found, as Jeremiah had said, the servants on the steps that descended to the kitchen. The nurse was also there. " How came you here ? " asked Philip—" and baby, too ! is this a place for him ? Go back to the nursery." There was indeed an uproar in the kitchen. The cook was as one mad, howling, cursing, dashing about and destroying everything she could lay hand on — like the German Polter- geist. Jeremiah burst the door open, and the two men entered. Fortunately for Philip's dignity, the constable arrived at the same time, and the crazy woman was without difficulty and disarrangement of Philip's collars, controUec and con- veyed to her bedroom. As the party of men with their ledfaced captive ascended the steps from the kitchen, Philip caught sight of the nurse and baby again. The former had disobeyed his order ; it was perhaps too much to expect of her to retire beyond sight of the drama enacted in the kitchen. Philip gave her notice to leave. " This would never have happened had Salome been here," said Jeremiah. " And this is not all • 'at woman has found means of getting to my cellar, and ^f' as drunk her- self into this condition on my best whisky and brandy. I have only just discovered the ravages she has made." " I gave you up the cellar key." •' Yes ; but she had another that fitted the lock. I have had Mrs. Haigh here ; she has opened my eyes to a thing or two. Are you aware that tne parlour-maid and my traveller Tomkins have been carrying on pretty fast ? She asked leave to go to a funeral on Sunday, and went instead with Tomkins to Hollingworth Lake. They were seen there together in a boat." " There is something wrong," said Phihp, " something I do not understand, about the washing. I do not know TWO MEN. 281 whether any account is kept of what goes to the wash, but I am quite sure that the wash consumes as much as it restores. I am reduced this week to one pocket handkerchief. I cannot understand it. If I had had an influenza cold during the last fortnight I could see some reason for my being short this week, but conceive the awkwardness of having only one. And then my socks. They come back full of holes. I used not to wear them into great chasms— at least not since I have been here ; now they return as of old when I was in furnished lodgings — only fit to be employed as floor-cloths." " I'll tell you what, Philip. Salome must return. I have been told by Mrs. Haigh that she saw your nursemaid take the baby only yesterday to Browne's Buildings, and there is scarlet fever in several of the cottages there." " I have dismissed her." "Who? Salome?" " No, the nurse." " But the n>ischief is done. She was there yesterday. I do not know how many days 'J takes for scarlet fever to incubate, but that the child will have it I have very little doubt. Why, she went into Rhode's cottage where they have had five down in it, and two of them died. The rest are just in that condition of healing when infection is most to be feared. I heard this fronj Mrs. Haigh." " Good heavens ! " Philip was frightened. " Then," contmued Jeremiah, " I do not suppose you are aware that Essie, the nursemaid, has been wearing your wife's jewellery. She had the audacity to appear in church on Sunday with a pretty Florentine mosaic brooch that I gave Salome many years ago. Mrs. Haigh saw it and recognized it." Phiho fidgetted in his chair. " I see," said he, " I was wrong in not speaking, or coughing the other night, or I might have sneezed, but I lacked the moral courage. I felt unwell and had a sick headache, and without saying anything to anyone I went to bed immediately after dinner. I may have been in bed half an hour and had'dozed off when I was roused h\r cp'^irio- a liorVif- T onfTipd mv pvf^s and observed Essie at the dressing table. She had come into the room, not dreaming I was there, and she was trying on Salome's bonnets, I suppose the best, putting her head on this side, then or that, and studying the effect at the glass. I did not con^^h or sneeze, as I ought. I allowed her to leave the room in ^^ 282 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. #^ Ignorance that she had been seen. I cannot remember now whether she went off with the bonnet on her head, or whether She replaced it. I did not announce my presence, because I was in bed, and I thought that my situation was even less dignihed than hers. But I see, now, I ought to have coughed or sneezed. " Philip, we shall get into an awful muddle unless Salome returns. Philip said nothing. *' Now look here," continued Jeremiah. " I have heard that you have been looking out for lodgings. If you are going to live by yourself that is tolerable ; but if you choose to have your wile with you you can live here and manage the factory and the house for me. I am tired of the drudgery of business, and 1 can not, and will not, be worried to death by servants. 1 must have someone who will look after the factory for me. and someone who will attend to the house." '' It would be best for Salome to return, but I am not sure that she IS willing. She seems to be enjoying herself vastly." Go after her; surprise her. Take the baby. Spend a nionth there and then return. Bring Janet back as well, if she cares to come." "Perhaps that will be best," mused Philip. "Things have become very uncomfortable without her— only one P°^^^jt^handkerchief, and my socks only get to be taken as " Of course it is best. As soon as possible go, and don't return without her." CHAPTER XLI. ONE POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. PHILIP PENNYCOMEQUICK was on his way to And- ermatt. He had come to an understanding with Uncle Jeremiah. His comfort, his well-being for the future depended on Salome. 1 he old man had taken a fancy to spend his winters abroad, and he had no wish to remain tied to his business m smoky Mergatroyd. He was quite ready to make It over to Phihp, but then Philip must first be reconciled to his wife, and bring her home to hold rule over the house. A ONE POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. 283 Swiss nurse had been found ready to take the child and accompany Philip to Andermatt. Philip did not travel in the same carriage as the nurse and child, but he saw to their lackmg nothing. He occupied a compartment of a first-class carriage by himself, and thought a good deal about himself and his wife. And— first— it was particularly annoying to have only one pocket handkerchief. The strictest inquiries had been made, but not more than the one in use could be discovered. The washer-woman insisted that she had received none, and the ^ semaid protested that she had given a dozen. Between the two they had disap- peared, and Philip was obliged to purchase a half dozen fresh silk ones ■ he would not buy more because he was resolved to get, with' his wife's aid, at the bottom of the mystery, and recover the lost pocket handkerchiefs, wherever they were. Unfortunately he was not aware how many he had had originally ; but Salome knew— she had taken count of all his clothing, knew the number of his socks and also of his pocket handkerchiefs. There was some excuse for the havoc wrought among the former, for the friction of boot heels and soles does destroy the texture of worsted socks, but no rubbing of noses injures the grain of silk pocket handkerchiefs. " I know," said PhiHp, as the train drev/ up at ThionviUe, " I know that when one has a cold, the secretion is acrid, but it is not sulphuric acid to burn holes in pocket handkerchiefs, What ? Turn out, here, and have one's boxes examined ? I will come to the bottom of that disappearance of pocket handkerchiefs. I am put to intolerable discomfort. I hate wiping my nose with silk till it has been washed three or four times and become flexible, and has lost its harshness— it irritates the mucous membrane. I am going through, voyez mon billet ! What nonsense examining one's baggage here ! Salome will know how many handkerchiefs I had. I am glad I am going to Andermatt ; it will set my mind at rest, and I can have these hateful new handkerchiefs washed there." But other matters occupied Phihp's mind. He had his wife's letters— the last two— in his pocket, and he re-read them ; the jolting of the train, the flicker of the Hght m the lamp overhead made tne reading difficult, and predisposed him to take umbrage at her expressions. What especially annoyed him was her praise of her new friend, the American lady, and it gave him satisfaction to conjure up before his imagination the scene of introduction of himself to her, and to 284 THE PENVYCOMEQUICKS. •■iti n ;• hlf c. ffl r^^^' ""'^-^ ^''^'^ courtesy looking at her, raising his il'^f^ ^'^^"^' ^"^ ^'th cold words giving her to under stand that her friendship with his wife was arinsths wishes" sunnZH' ^' ^•^^^"tinued. The places af /aW.Srhe supposed, were arranged according to priority He wo„M ^^Vt::^Z t'' '' he came ifst, al? ^ l^elong^^gTh^ s^at^ InH 'f ^^^'^' ^""^ ^^^ "'^^es "i"st rehnquish their seats and come down to the end of the table bv him thll Tfter d,"^"'''. '" P^^-y ^^°"^ *^^^ ambiguous sCn^e^ U Salome h" arm 'and^ ^° ^'^^ ^^^^' ^^ woSd offer ^aiome his arm and ask her to come for a stroll alone with ^ivJn^Z^ "^T ?^7 7^y^ ^" ^^'ch this person might be Siate ""a /'k,"^ '^^' f'-"^^' "° ^°"g^^ desired as an S shakeLfft' "T^ u- ^I'y ^^^ ^^' i" her confusion a" tI. l^ ?^ ^^'""^^ '" h'" h^a^t, and then died away ' with the hlir'.^""r '° """°""^^ h'^ i"t-"tion of coming with the baby to Andermatt. He intended to surprise Salome with the"babv' ihn/Tr-'' '''""P '"^i"t^i"ed his connection ho ds the earth i^H^ ^ ^''•''"S " ^' =" distance, as the sun earth ,^ u^ ^"""^s 't round it, but never allows the abouVtherrthlo dM°rh'°?'^- ^"'^ ^' "'^ ">°°" '""o'ves PH.l.AtT[Sie-o1aVn^;fC„?-^^^^^^^^ ng Mount' I'^T ^0""* Caprili ; or on his scheme for reS- mfn^lr /c'au,^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^fe^:=.-ar„Tffl~^^ to Andermatt, when he jumped into tL^same v.^d. ffd hela our his nand with a boisterous jollity. ' ' "" ' vou wTll /nn'^''"'!?' Pt""y^°"^^q"^^^ ? Delighted to see Hotel Wrki 0?.^'"^^''' "^^V ""^ flourishing at the Jnotei imperial. Of course, you go there. I was nearly killed ONE POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. 285 at all of the others. Look at my silver watch case — turned black with sulphuretted hydrogen. But, of course, you go where Sal is. Good girl ! excellent girl ! You made a first- rate choice when you took her, and you have my blessing. Mercy on me, that is my grandchild, I presume. To think of it — I a grand-father ! If you will do me a favour, my boy, you will say nothing about our relationship. I don't want to be looked upon as a grandpa. Bless me ! at my time of life a grandpa ! I'll share the carriage with you — pay a third — no a quarter, as you are three, self, nurse, and baby." Philip became stiff and cold. He would not take the hand offered him, nor say a word to the man who had so uncere- moniously entered his carriage. Beaple Yeo, alias Sichofield, was by no means disconcerted. "You will take my card," he said. Then, when he saw that Philip would not do so : " But no, I will introduce you myself, dear son-in-law, to the proprietor. Now do look at this zig-zag road. I remember seeing a marionnette theatre when I was a child, and this scene was represented. A number of little carriages came running down the zig-zag one after another — and here it is — the same exactly. It is worth your looking. One, two, three — upon my word there are five carriages ; and see how the horses tear along and swing round the corners. It is worth looking at." There are certain insects which when rigid and take all the appearance of sticks, with Philip ; the presence, the address of reduced or transmuted him into a bit of stick. less with his umbrella between his knees, his hands resting on the handle, his neck stiff, and his eyes staring at a couple of buttons of unequal nature at the back of the driver's jacket. He did not look at Beaple Yeo, nor at the zig-zags, nor at the descending train of five carriages, ^r at the wondrous scenery. He was greatly incensed, li v/as intolerable that he should meet this man again, and that he should be near, if not with Salome. But this was one of the annoyances he must look on as inevitable, one that would continually recur. Really it was too bad of Salome not to have mentioned in one of her letters that her father was at Andermatt. If she had done that not " all the king's horses, nor all the king's men," would have got Philip to make that expedition to Andermatt. Finding that his son-in-law was indisposed to converse, the cheerful and loquacious Colonel addressed tlie baby, screwed handled become It was the same this odious man He sat motion- m n 28y THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. up his mouth, made noises, offered his eye-glass to the infant, but withdrew it when the child attempted to suck it. From the baby, Yeo glided into remarks addressed to the nurse, asked her how long she had been on the road, whether she was French or Swiss, what was the name of her home, how she liked England, etc., regardless of the frowns of Philip, who, at length, to draw off his father-in-law from this unsuit- able conversation, said sternly — " Pray, how long have you been at Andermatt ? " " Oh ! several weeks. I was there before my Sal arrived. I have no doubt Janet wrote and told her I was there, and filial duty— filial duty— one of the most beautiful and blessed of the qualities locked in the human breast— in the human breast— drew her to Andermatt to make a fuller freer acquaint- ance with the author of her being than was possible in Eng- land — in England." When the carriage had passed the Devil's Bridge and the little chapel at the mouth of the ravine, where the broad basin of fertile pasture opens out, in which stands the village of Andermatt, a party of ladies and one gentleman was visible on the road, two in deep mourning, two in colours, and three girls in half-mourning. " Hah ! " exclaimed the Colonel, " my family." Philip looked intently at ths party. He at once recog- nised Salome, and was satisfied that the other in black was Janet. To his great surprise he saw Mrs. Sidebottom and the captain. Who that slender lady was in a light dress he could only conjecture. If he had not been in the carriage with Beaple Yeo, he would have told the driver to stop, and allow him to descend and greet his wife ; but the presence at his side of that man determined him to postpone the meeting. He did not wish Salome to see him ridmg beside her father, as though he had made up liis quarrel with him. He drew back in his place, and looked another way whilst driving past, and Salome, who caught sight of the well-known waving puggary, lowered lier eyes. Beaple Yeo had his hat off, and was wafting a salutation to the American lady. Then, when passed, he turned to Philip and said, " You will do me the favour, I know, not to announce your relation- ship ; 'pon my word, I aon't want to be looked upon as a grandfather, because I don't feel it. Young blood ' ' my vems. tingk The strange lady had stepped aside for the carriage to R ONE POCKET HANDKERCHIEF. 287 le infant, . From le nurse, 2ther she me, how f PhiUp, s unsuit- arrived. ere, and 1 blessed 2 human cquaint- in Eng- and the ad basin 'illage of s visible nd three e recog- ack was tom and dress he carriage top, and sence at meeting, r father, ly whilst 1-known I his hat 1, "You relation- )on as a ngles in riage to pass, upon the bank near that side on which Philip sat, and he looked at her with a feeling of aversion. It was too annoy- ing of Salome to walk out with this questionable individual, and meet him as he arrived, thrusting her almost into his face. On reaching the Hotel Imperial he had to undergo the annoyance of being taken in hand, patronised and presented by Beaple Yeo. Philip was a bad French scholar, spoke no German, and the English of the proprietor was not under- standable till one got used to it. Philip asked for his room, and said to himself, *' There will be time for me to wash my hands and change my shirt ; the collars are limp — not enough stiffening put in them, they will not stand up. Ici ! voyez ! " to the maid. *' Is there a bon- langer — no, I mean a hlanchisseuse in their place. Wait till my portemanteau is open. I want to have five pocket-hand- kerchiefs sent at once to the wash. Ici ! voyez ! soft water, €t point de soda et washing powder." When he had delivered over the pocket-handkerchiefs and had assumed a clean shirt, and brushed his hair, and washed his face and hands, he descended to the salle, and asked if the ladies had returned from their walk. " Note yet, saire," answered the porter. " How long before they do come back ? " " I sure I can note tell. Bote too shupper sure." " Very well," said Philip, " go and send for the nurse and ■child. They must be ready. It will be," said he to himself, " a pleasure to me after tho first rapture is over, to show Salome that I have brought her the child." When the nurse came in Philip ordered her to sit with the baby in the verandah before the hotel ; the air was fresh but dry and delicious, and the child could take no harm. Then he ordered for himself a claret and iced soda water. It was inconsiderate of Salome keeping him waiting. He was anxious to see her, notwithstanding the provocation given him. Why should she not have been there instead of going out f. , a walk ? No doubt she and her party had strolled to t.ie Devil's Bridge. " Waiter," called Philip. " Which is the table at which the ladies sit ? " When told, he said, ** I suppose thei are seven covers Eight, saire ; de American leddy sits dere." Eight ; very well, waiter. I sit with tliein in future, and 288 THE PENNYCOMEQUrCKS. il i M ^e American lady goes to another table. Do you understand ? Ihere is no place for her at the table whe;e I sit." Presently Philip heard the clear pleasant voices of the girls and ladies outside, and their feet on the gravel. He started up and hastened down the hall ; but before he could reach the door he heard Salome's voice partly raised in cry of pain, partly in extremity of joy. '• It is ! It is ! It can be no other ! It is my baby ! " How did she know it ? To the male eye there is scarcely any distinction between babies ; as one lamb is Hke another lamb, and one buttercup like another buttercup, so a-e all babies alike. Some have dark hair, others are blondes; but so among lambs, and there are varieties of species in buttercups, in the Alpine pastures some are silver. Unwarned, unpre- pared, Salome knew her baby ; knew it at once, with a leap ot her heart and a rush of blood that roared in her ears and for a moment dazzled her eyes. She asked no questions how It came there, she entertained no doubt whether it was her own— her very own— in a moment she had the little creature in her arms, laughing, crying, covering its face and hands with kisses ; and the child also knew its mother, had no won- der how she came to be there, no doubt whether it was really she ; it thrust forth its little pats, and held Salome by the copper-gold hair, and put its rosy mouth to her cheek. , '' ^'^IS"}^ ' ' exclaiirxd Janet, " how can you be so ridicu- lous ? This must be some other child; who could have brought yours here ? " Then Philip appeared in the doorway— but Salome's eyes were blind with tears of joy, and she did not see him ; she could see nothing but her child. He spoke— she did not hear him ; she could hear nothing but the cooing of her babe. Phihp stood beside her and touched her on the shoulder " Do you not know me ? " he asked. ' Are you not dad to see me ? " ^ & Salome stood still and released her child. She was con- tused ; she hardly knew whether she was awake or in the most beautiful, blissful of dreams. " Well— this is hardly the— the— Salome, do you not know me ? ' '• Oh Philip ! " she gasped, " is it reallv von ? And von have brought me my baby! Oh! how go6d, how kind!" And she fell to kissing and hugging her baby again. Then Philip, finding himself put completely in the back- *■■■■■ THE GAUNTLET DANGLED. 28» irstand ? . s of the el. He 16 could i in cry baby I " sely any 2r Jamb, I babies but so tercups, , unpre- 1 a leap ars and )ns how vas her ireature 1 hands 10 won- s really by the ■ ridicu- i have j's eyes n ; she ot hear DC. oulder. )t glad IS con- in the t know id vou cind ! " back- ground, condemned to a subsidiary part to that played by Philip the Little, was offended, and said with a slight tone of icerbity, " My dear Salome, be decorous. Give up Phil now to the nurse, a Swiss young person, and come, take my arm." " Philip," said Salome, '• Oh, Philip, how good ! how very dear of you ! " He felt her heart beating wildly against his arm, as she clung to him, at his side. Then she began to sob. " It is too great happiness. My darling ! My darling pet ! and looking so well too." *' You mean the baby." " Yes, of course, Philip." She put her hand in her pocket, drew cut her 'kerchief and wiped her eyes. " By the way,"' said Philip, ' how many had I ? " •' How many what, Philip ? Only this one darling." " I mean pocket-handkerchiefs. All, all have disappeared, and I have been condemned to one. I have come here to Andermatt expressly to know what my stock consisted of. Conceive, only one pocket-handkerchief left." CHAPTER XLH. THE GAUNTLET DANGLED. PHILIP had to shake hands with Janet, with his aunt,, with the three Labartes, to whom he was introduced, and with a little heartiness to clasp the hand of the Captain. He was introduced, moreover, to the American lady, and was thus given the well-considered (opportunity of saluting her with calculated indifference. He somewhat exaggerated the cordiality of his greeting of the Labarte girls so as to empha- size the chilliness of his behaviour towards the young lady from Chicago. When the first excitement of meeting was past, Philip was overwhelmed with questions. " How was dear Uncle Jere- miah — was he much altered ? " " What was going to be done v/ith the mill ? " and " What a '•^uzzle it would be about the administration ? " " Could he -e-establish himself legally as alive after he had been decreed dead ? " " What had happened at Mergatroyd besides the return of Uncle Jere- f ^290 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. miah ? " " How had the people received him ? " " Had they erected a triumphal arch ? " " Did he write beforehand to say he was coming? " " What sort* of weather had they had in England ? " "What kind of crossing had Philip?" " Had baby suffered at all from the sea ? " " What did he thmk of the railway ? " There was no end to the questions asked, which Philip answered as well as he could. And as he received and replied to questions he kept his eye on the strange lady, and con- sidered how she must feel— shut out from all the interests which engrossed those connected with him ; and how much m the way she ought to regard herself. This she did observe, and drew aside, out of hearing, and as Beaple Yeo came forward, fell into conversation with him. His presence had an immediate numbing effect upon Philip and Salome and Janet. They withdrew to another end of the salon. Phihp had used his opportunity to observe the strange lady, and he admitted to himself that she was good-looking. Of course there are differences in types of beauty, and she was not of the type that commended itself to Philip— so he thought. She had dark hair and a transparent olive complex- ^O"- Possibly a touch of dark blood in her, mused Phihp ; and he said to himself "I will take the first opportunity to look at her nails." ^ Her features were finely modelled, with a firmness of cutting that showed she was no longer in her teens, unde- veloped. The flexible transparent nostrils, the shghtly curled curves of the lips, the wavy hair over the brow— whether natural, the result of a trace of black blood, or artificially produced— the splendid dark eyes that looked at Philip, ooked down into him and flashed through his whole being like a lamp shining into a cellar— the delicate ears, the beau- tiful neck, not too long, set on well-formed shoulders— all were observed by Philip. " Yes," said Phihp, " she is hand- some, but she belongs to that period of life which may be twenty-four or thirty-four. She has got out of thirteenhood, that IS clear." He looked at Salome. If Salome was his ideal, nothing v,-„ v.:ur..,..,u iiiciii iicr t}pc iiuni liiu lypc oi iviiss Durham. There was a childhke simplicity in Salome, an Ignorance of the world which would make of her a child to grey hairs ; and this strange lady had clearly none of this THE GAUNTLET DANGLED. 291 simplicity and ignorance ; she knew a great deal about the ways and varieties of life. One like Miss Durham would never go into gushing ecstasy over a baby and forget that the first homage was due to her husband. It afforded emphatic pleasure to Philip to be able to de- monstrate before this single lady, with such a circle of relatives about him — six ladies and one gentlemen- we are eight and you are or.e. It was Joseph's sheaf with all the sheaves bow- ing down before it ; it was like a man with a pedigree describing the family tree to a self-made man. It was like a hen with a brood of chickens clucking and struttmg before a fowl that has never reared a solitary chick, hardly laid an egg ; it was like a millionaire showing his pictures, his plate, his equipages, his yacht, to an acquaintance who had two hundred a year. it has just been stated that the American girl's eyes had flashed down into Philip's, and irradiated his interior as a lantern does a cellar — a wine cellar, of course — and the light revealed magnificent cobwebs, thick dust, and some spiders. There was, unquestionably, in Philip much rare good wine, excellent qualities of heart and soul, but they were none of them on tap, all we bottled, and all overlaid with whitewash and dust, and mat;*. a with the fibres and folds of prejudice. These masses of cobweb, these layers of dust, these fat spiders- were objects of pride to Philip. Every year the cobwebs gathered density, and the dust accumulated, and the spiders became more gross, hideous, and venomous ; the wine remained corked, it was merely an excuse for the cultivation of cobwebs and spiders. We are all eager to show our friends through these rich wine vaults of our hearts. We light candles and conduct them down with infinite pride, and what we expose is only our curtains of prejudice of ancient standing and long formation, our meanness, and our spites. If we offer them to taste of our best wine, it is but through straws. On the other hand there was Colonel Yeo, a walking Bodega of generous sentiment, with every rich passion and ripe opinion always on tap — ask what you would and you had a tumbler- ful. But we libel Bodega, the gush with which he regaled his acquaintance was not true vintage ; it was squeezed raisins and logwood, gooseberry and elder — no cobwebs of prejudice there, not a trace even of a scruple, not a token of maturity. Supper was hurried on, because Philip was hungry, half an hour before the usual time at which the little party sat down to their special table in the alcove. 292 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. IP*' " Oh ! " said Salome, " there is a cover short. Waiter, we shall be nine to-night and in future, not eight. My hus- band is here." " Pardon," answered the waiter. " Monsieur expressly said eight." " Oh, he forgot. He did not understand. We are now nine." Then Philip interfered. " I said eight, but if you particu- larly desire Miss Durham's society, I can sit at the long table with the common guests." '• Oh, Philip ! surely not ! " exclaimed Salome. " It will hurt her feelings." " She will understand that we are a family party, and that from such a party strangers are best excluded." Salome heaved a sigh. She could not endure the thought of giving pain to anyone. " Who is she ? " asked Philip. " She is a lady, and very agreeable. Indeed, a most superior person. You will be certain to like her, when you come to know her. Oh ! Philip, she knows a thousand things about which I am ignorant." " I have no doubt about that," answered Philip ironically ; " and things I would be sorry you should know about. I make no question she has seen the shady side of life." " But she is tremendously rich." " Who says so ? " " The waiter — of course, he knows. And Colonel Yeo pays her great attention accordingly. Oh ! Philip, I wish so much you would extend your protection to her against him. He may draw her into one of his schemes for the advance- ment of missionaries, or the propagation of dogs — and get a lot of money out of her. Do, do, Philip, protect her against him. I — I —I don't like to speak about him. You can under- stand that, Phihp." " Very well," said he ; "I will do what I can." He was flattered at the idea of acting as protector to this young American lady. " But I put down my foot and say she is not to sit at our table." The party gathered in the alcove, and fortunately Miss Duiham was the last to arrive, so there was no difficulty about requesting her to take a place elsewhere. When she entered the salle-d-manger at the usual hour every seat was occupied at the table to which for some little while she had been Waiter, My hus- expressly are now Li particu- ong table " It will , and that e thought , a most vhen you .nd things ronically ; about. I onel Yeo I wish so linst him. advance- and get a iv against an under- lie was lis young lay she is tely Miss ilty about le entered occupied had been THE GAUNTLET DANGLED. 293 admitted. She saw at a glance that her place was taken, and the wen^ without demur or a look of disappointment to the iong t; ;. vjhe jj^^ sufficient tact to perceive that Philip aislikt. uer, and she had no intention of pressing her society on those who did not desire it. So far from seeming vexed, a slight contemptuous smile, like the flicker of summer light- ning, played about her lips. She caught Salome's eve, full of appeal and apology, and returned it with a good-natured nod. offence''^ ^^ *^'^'" ^^'^ *^^ "°'^' ""^^^ "°* ^'""^ ""^ Mrs. Sidebottom sat beside Philip and plied him with questions relative to the intentions of Uncle Teremiah— questions which he was unable to answer, but she attributed his evasive replies to unwillingrness to speak, and pressed him the more urgently. The captain was attentive to Janet, who had recovered her spirits, laughed and twinkled, ahd without intentionally coquetting, did coquet with him. Janet became dull in female society, but that of men acted as a tonic upon her ; it was like Parrish's Chemical Food to a bloodless girl : It brisked her up, gave colour to her cheek, and set her tongue wagging. The captain was good-natured and he threw a word or two to the Labarte girls, but devoted his chief atten- tion to Janet. Salome was left to herself, Mrs. Sidebottom engrossed her nephew, whether he would or not, and when he said some- thing to Salome he was interrupted by Mrs. Sidebottom, who exclaimed, "Now, fiddle-de-dee, you will have plenty of time to talk m private to your wife, whereas I shall see you only occasionally, and I am particularly interested in all x-ou can tel me of Jeremiah. Give me your candid opinion; what will he do ? Is he angry with me ? " "I can give no opinion without grounds on which to base It, and Uncle Jeremiah has not taken me into his confidence." +u . u^^ l""^ ^^""^ ^^^ '■^^^'^^^ «^ ^ i^wyer- I Had enough of that when Sidebottom was alive. I hate reserve. Give me frankness. Now— if you will not tell me what you know of my brother's intentions " " I know nothing, and therefore can divulge nothincr " f ^•?u t^""^ ^^^" ^ fortnight and more under the° same root with him and have not found out his intentions ' Well —to change the subject— what do you think of the scheme for buying up the Hospice on the St. Gotthard and turning it into an establishment for Mount St. Bernard dogs ^ " «* 294 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XLIII ^i| ti THE GAUNTLET CAST. WHEN supper was ended, the whole party adjourned to the promenade outside the hotel, where a fountain splashed in a basin, and in an aviary on a perch stood a scowling, draggled eagle, and beside the aviary were cages with marmots, smelling abominably, and fettered on a patch of grass was a miserable chamois that seemed to have the mange. It was delightful to walk in the crisp pure air of evenmg, without cap or bonnet, and watch the evening glow on the snow-fields, and listen to the tinkle of the bells as the cows were driven home from the Alpine pastures and diverged to their several stables from the main street. Beaple Yeo came out after the party at Philip's table, not hatless, and his puggary in the dusk fluttered like a gigantic white moth. The chaplain for the summer from England was also walking in the grounds with his newly-married wife : a feeble youth with a high-pitched voice and a cackling laugh, who had cultivated a military moustache, to point out his imbecility, as the ass ii, the fable assumed a Hon's skin, but was revealed as an ass on opening his mouth. A party of Germans were feeding and talking vociferously. A couple of Alpine Club men in knickerbockers, carrying their alpenstocks proudly trudged in with a guide, the latter laden with their knapsacks. Salome had been walking, nestled against Philip's side, not saying much but feeling happy, when her attention was attracted by the wailinf of a babe from one of the hotel windows. " Philip, dear ! " she said " there is my pet, my darling crying. I must tear myself away from you and go to him. I know he wants me. He is so clever. He is quite aware that I am here, and resents being rocked to sleep by the Swiss nurse, he is protesting that nothing will make him close his peepers but mamma's voice, and a kiss. And— oh, dear, dear Philip, I don't like to think it possible you could be unkind to anyone— there is Miss Durham behind us, all by herself; do —do say a word to her and be civil. It was rather— well, not quite rude, but strange of us paying no attention to her at THE GAUNTLET CAST. 295 arned to fountain stood a re cages I a patch lave the evening w on the the cows erged to feo came and his te moth. ) walking le youth who had nbecihty, revealed ans were line Club ; proudly niapsacks. , side, not ition was the hotel y darling ) to him. ite aware the Swiss 1 close his dear, dear unkind to erself; do -well, not to her at supper, and turnmg her out of her place. Philip, I could not ^at any supper— I was i,o uncomfortable. J would not hurt anyone s feehngs willingly, and I am sure Miss Durham has not been treated with consideration ; would you— because I ask you— for my sake speak to her when I am gone to baby." bhe looked up entreatingly in his eyes, loosed her hand Irom his arm and was gone. Philip slackened his pace, then halted, to allow the Ameri- can lady to catch him up. He would speak to her, and give her to understand, of course politely, that intimacy with his wife must cease. When she came level with him he raised his hat, and said, " A beautiful evening ; a charming evening." " Ax°u ^^^ already perceived, Mr. Pennycomequick.' "\\hat a surprise this green basin of valley is to one emerging from the ravine of the Reuss," said Philip. ♦♦ Yes," with indifference ; then, with animation, " By the way, you were in the carriage with Colonel Yeo." " I beg pardon, he was in the carriage with me." " I suppose you are old friends ? " said the lady. Phihp stiffened his back. " Miss Durham, we belong? to distinct classes of society. With his I have nothinjj in -common. * " But you knew each other ? " •• I knew of him. I cannot say I knew him." " Have you no ambition to rise to his social grade ? " " To— rise-to— his— social grade ! " It took Philip some time to digest this question. He replied, ironically, ''None in the least, I do assure you. I am thankful to say that I be ong to that middle class which works for its living honour- fndustf '^^"^ and finds its pleasure and its pride in " And Colonel Yeo ? " •' Oh ! I assure you he does not soil his fingers with honest trade or business. " You don't want to know him ? " " I have not the smallest ambition." ^^i^^ .fi^P"^^' ^"""^ ^^'^^ neither spoke, Philip re- fs^'one " ^''^ subjects that are distasteful to me f this !! Lf ^' •if^''^ ¥'^^ Durham, " you are a radical." A V u?f^''''" ^^* ^^^ ^"'^J^^^ d^°P'" said Philip. - This air is delightful to me after the smoke of a Yorkshire manufactunng 296 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " It is really surprising how fresh, notwithstanding, your wife is," answered the Chicago lady. ^^ Philip turned sharply round and looked at her. " Fresh ! ' he repeated. He did not understand what her meaning was ; fresh in complexion, or that her character was green and raw. •' Her freshness » ' quite delightful," added the lady. Then Philip's an^^er broke loose. He was offended at any remark being made on Salome by a person of whom he knew nothing. " Indeed — perhaps so. And it is precisely this freshness, this generosity of mind, this ignorance of the world, which leads her to extend the hand of fellowship to — to any one— to those who may not be so fresh as herself — who may be quite the reverse." Miss Durham stood still, her face gleaming with anger. " I know, sir, very well what you mean. You know that I am alone, without a man — a father, brother or husband by to protect me from insult, and you take this advantage ta address me thus." She revolved on her heel and walked hastily back to the hotel. Philip stood rooted to the spot. What had he done ? What shadow of a right had he to address an inoffensive girl with such impertinence ? A girl who had done him no harm, and of whom he knew nothing, and who, for aught he knew to the contrary, might be as respectable, high-minded, and well-connected as the best lady in America. She had been alone in this foreign corner shut out from social intercourse with her fellow countrymen, and she had formed an acquaintance with his wife, his wife's, sister, and the Labarte girls. What right had he to step in and thrust her out of association with them ? He had done v/hat he determined, but done it in so clumsy a manner as to put himself in the wrong, make himself who stood on punctilio, appear an unlicked bear. He had behaved to an unprotected, young, and beautiful girl in a manner that would have disgraced the rudest artisan, in a manner that he knew not one of his honest Yorkshire workmen in his factory would have dared to behave. AND PICKED UP. 297 CHAPTER XLIV. AND PICKED UP. MATTERS that look serious at night shrink to trifling significance m the morning. PhiHp rose refreshed by sleep, with a buoyancy of heart he had not experienced for many months, and a resolution to enjoy hir, holiday now that he was taking one. How often had he longed for the chance ot making an excursion on the Continent, of seeing the snowy ranges of the Alps, and studying fresh aspects or human life. Now the opportunity had come, and he must make the most of it. His prospects at home were not such as to discourage him, he was no longer the ruling manager of the Pennycomequick firm, but he was not going to be kicked out of the concern as he had at first feared. Uncle Jeremiah proposed to take him into partnership, making him working ^l^u"^J' ^"i^JI ^" probability he would be better off than with Mrs. Sidebottom consuming more than half the profits and contributing nothing. He had been tired with his journey yesterday, irritated at finding Beaple Yeo in his proximity, and he had given way to his irritation and spoken uncourteously to an Ameri- can ady. What of ^hat ? Who was she to take offence at what he said ? If she were angered she must swallow her wrath, bhe had vexed him by pushing herself into the acquaintance of his wife. If people will climb over hedges /r''!u-^''P^'^* scratches. If requisite he could apologise, and the thing was over. Miss Durham had made a remark which he considered a slight passed on his wife, and he was LfilVn /T?* '^- ^^ f^,^^^ '"^^^ ^ thrust with an un- !n^ f u uf "^^^""^^ ^'^^^y t^^* h^ wouid retaliate with the end of his, blunted by a button. f.r^^ ''•!!!'!u'^°'^" stairs feeling cheerful and on the best of sT,t J . .vf "^r^u^- ^ ,^^ ^°"^^ S° ^°^ ^ ^^^k that day with Salome-to the Ober Alp, and pick gentians and Alpenrose- and in preparation for the walk, he went to the collection of carved work. phofno-ranKc oj,^ A i^,V ,. _ ,. , , • » ,v> «-u^ /; i o-7i"-'^^"^ *^^F^ncpaiupncrnalia exhibited in the salU-d-manger by the head waiter for sale, and bought asTrndle ^Tb "*'^'''8:=''^k with an artificial chamois K as handle. Then he strode out into the villaRe street and looked m at the shop windows. There was only o^e shop 298 THE PENNYCOMEQUICK8. ■■, I that interested him, it contained crystals smoked and clear, and specimens of the rocks on the St. Gotthard pass, collec- tions of dried flowers and photographs. When he returned to the inn he found that his party was in the salle awaiting him. The usual massive white coffee- cups, heap of rolls all crust outside and bubbles within, wafers of butter, and artificial honey were on the table. A German lady was prowling about the room with her head so tumbled that it was hard to believe she had dressed her hair since leaving her bed, and the curate was there also, ambling round his bride and squeaking forth entreaties that she would allow him to order her eggs for breakfast. Philip was heartily glad that he sat along with his party at one table, in the alcove. Miss Durham was not there. On enquiry Salome learned that she had ordered breakfast to be taken to her room. " So much the better," said Philip. " My dear, surely you made friends yesterday evening after I left you." " Come— to table," said Philip, and then, " on the con- trary, I don't know quite how it came about, but something I said gave her umbrage, and she flew away in a rage. I suppose I offended her. It does not matter. Pass me the butter." " It does not matter ! Oh, Philip ! " " Given Miss Durham offence ! " exclaimed bottom. " But she is worth thousands. How be so indiscreet ? " " She is so charming," said Janet. " So amiable," murmured Claudine Labarte. •' Mais, quelle gaucherie ! " whispered the pfctiultimate Labarte to the youngest sister. Then ensued a silence. Philip looked from one to another. Already a cloud had come into his clear sky. Philip said sternly, " Pass me the butter." Those who seemed least concerned were the Captain and Janet, who sat together and were engrossed in little jokes that passed between them, and were not heard or regarded by the rest of the company. " This is very unfortunate," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " for we had made a plan to go the Hospice together, and she would have paid her share of the carriage." Salome looked into her plate, her colour came and went. Mrs. Side- could you T AND PICKED UP. 29^ She slid her hand into that of her husband, and whispered, 1 did not mean to reproach you. I am sure you were right." I was right," answered PhiUp. " Something she said appeared to me a reflection on you and I fired up. 1 am your husband, and am bound to do so." "I am quite sure, then, you misunderstood her," said Salome ; - dear Miss Durham could not-no, I do not mean that-would not say a word against me. Of course I know 1 have plenty of faults, and she cannot have failed to observe alfti' o V^^ "^^"^"^ "°* '^'■^^"^ o^ alluding to them, least or " That is possible," answered Philip. " And I will say or do something to pass it off. But, I hope you see that I did intended "^ '" *^^'"^ ^°"' P^'^' ''^^" '^ "° ^^'^^^ ^^^ " Of course, Philip." Then Salome stood up and said, "I will go to her. will tell her there was a misunderstanding. It will come bes« irom me, as I was the occasion." Philip nodded. It was certainly best that Salome should do this and save him the annoyance and— well, yes, the humiliation of an apology. ^ T.h^r!'r?^KT.'^^5 P"^ ™^^P ^P°^^ t° the eldest Labarte girl but found her uninteresting; and the younger sisters looked at him with ill-concealed dissatisfaction. He had come to Andermatt and spoiled their party. They had been cheerful and united before. Miss Durham had been inhnitely amusing, and now, Philip had introduced discord was wooden and weariful. They wished he had remained at rT.l'"/"'''^^' ^u^?l England ; if he came-he should have left the fog and chill behind him, instead of diffusing it over a contented and merry party. Mrs. Sidebottom had left the table to haggle with the head waiter over a paper-cutter with a chamois leg as handle, that she wanted to buy and send as a present to Jeremiah, but was indisposed to pay for it the price asked by the waiter. i^ y iux me " B"*: "'\^/"J'" said the waiter, " if you do not take him at the price, Mademoiselle Durham will; she have admired and wanted to buy him, and she goes away to-day." ru.u ^k' P"/ham going ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sidebottom, and rushed back to the table to announce the news. - Why- PhiJin f ^^' "^a^ TJI ^^^^^^^^ ' This is your doing, Phihp. You have offended her, and are driving her away '' i^ 300 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. The announcement produced silence ; and all eyes were turned on Philip, those of the Labarte girls with undisguised indignation. Even the Captain and Janet ceased their con- versation. An angel may have passed through the room, but he must have been a crippled one, so long did he take in traversing it ; nor can he have been a good one, so little light and cheerfulness did he diffuse. ••Well!" said Philip, ••what if she be going? That is no concern of ours." Then he stood up and left the room. He was in an unamiable mood. This party did not show him the considera- tion that was due to him ; and found fault with him about trifles. He left the hotel, and wandered to the aviary, where he remained contemplating the scowling eagle. The bird perhaps recognised a similarity of mood in his visitor, for he turned his head, ruffled his feathers, and looked at Philip. •♦ Well," said Phihp, •• that is the king of the birds, is it ? To my mind a bumptious, ill-conditioned, dissatisfied, and uninteresting fowl." Then he moved in front of the marmot cage. •' And these are marmots, that spend more than half their life in sleep. Very like Lambert Sidebottom, or Pennycomequick, as he is pleased to call himself now." He looked at the eagle again. •• Pshaw ! Pluck him of his self-consciousness as Aquila — and what is he ? What is he ? " Then he wandered away among the flower-beds and bushes of syringa without a purpose, grumbling to himself at the manners of those Labartes, and the figures that Lambert and ianet made, laughing over inane jokes, and regretting that he ad allowed Salome to go in search of the Chicago lady. Salome in the meantime had hastened to her friend's room, the number of which she knew, and found her packing her portmanteau and dress-boxes. The room was strewn with dresses. " But — ' exclaimed Salome on entering, " what is the meaning of this, Miss Durham ! You are surely not going to leave ? ' it T V.«-.T/-K " Certainly I am," answered the American lady been insulted here, and shall leave the place for one where rhere are better manners." " Oh, don't go. My husband did not mean to offend you. I do not know what he said, but I am quite sure he would do AND PICKED UP. 301 IS nothing ungentlemanly. unkind. He has had a long iournev vou wm ^,^J'^^"^^"^- ,If y"" wish It he will explain, but surely lN?^s Dnrh'^^ T't l^^' no impertinence was intended.' ^ Miss Durham looked at Salome steadily. Ihe word has been said." .. L^^"r"°^" ^^ *^ "°^ "^y nature." a^jjiness oi me is made up of forgiveness. " worklgl!" "•'■ '"'' "^^ '^'""'<=»"' ^"'' ^'ooped to her I .,^'''°'?^ T"^ '" ■'<*'■ *"'' arrested her hands. ■• I will not iear" "o ,h nlT r. •° «°-,. • should ever feel an achT n my alTs''e"n^emi:s.* "'"' ^°- =" ^"--' '^ P'^''^'^ -'< yo"u ?re " Quite," said Miss Durham, coolly. •; Oh, yes, by obtaining satisfaction." altPr^H .T "^^"^ l^. ^^'- ^^^ handsome face was much seenllVore'" ^h^ ',''T''T ^"^ ^^°^" ^" ^^ ^^e had never been Deiore. The dark eyebrows were drawn totrether form splndidTye"' ''"^'^"'"^ ^" ^ "er tlT^^^'.lTer calls r,\T/„ff"''? ^'' f^."'^^'^ ^""'her he that is injured Had r l °*"der, and there is an exchange of pistol shots me and def^/d"^™","'''" '"='°"8"'' '° ■"«• anyone ?o stand by l"n/. 1 u'"^u"='"i'*"'=''' ■ *°"'d ^end him with a chal fe»%^::?l^.^"b^?<'' =;"d they would fight the matter on the Devils' Bridge ^' B^.t^^T^' "' '^"'er," she laughed, "on norhushanr:i|ustl Ltlo^'^mTor ^n^^^^^^^^ '• Or what, Miss Durham ? ' *' Or run away." .^02 THE PENNYCOMEQUICK8. if m <« P ;h were «5ilent ; presently Salome laughed a little nerv- and said, " iiut you never fight ? no woman fights." i^nes she not ' " " Mut With pistols. " '• Perhaps not." " Nor with swords." "Oh, no. " Then — witli what ? " " With her proper wt nons." "You may be quite sure my husband would throw down his arms and yield at discretion." " I have little doubt." Salome closed the box on which Miss Durham had been engaged, and seated herself upon it. Then she looked up with childlike entreaty into her friend s face, and said : " I will not allow you to go. We had schemed to have such pleasant excursions together. We have been so happy since we have known each other, and— I have not yet had the delipht of showing you my baby— my best treasure." " You will not let me run away ? " " No, no ! You will forget this little affair ; it was nothmg. Come and be with us again. My husband is a great reader, and knows a great deal about things of which I am ignorant, and you have travelled and seen so much that your society will interest him immensely. Oh, do stay, do not go away.' The American went to the window, leaned both her arms folded on it, and looked out. She could see into the garden, and she observed Philip there, standing before the eagle cage. He had a little twig in his hand, and he was thrusting it between the bars at the bird. She turned and said to Salome, *' No, I will go. There are several reasons which urge me to go. The insult which I received from your husband for one —and already he had allowed me to see that he disliked and despised me " No, indeed," interrupted Salome. " I had written to him in all my letters about you, and— perhaps he was a little jealous of you." '• Jealous of me ? " i. •_ - e r ;_-. " H IS a laijcy ui uimc. " O ! you fresh, you green dear 1 " laughed Miss Durham. *■' Do you know what jealousy is ? " '• By experience ? No." 'ome," said the American girl, seating herself beside her .» r "■^^-t OBER ALP. 303 huig. *• What, you also me beside you — on the same box, still with foiJ^d arms, resting now on her 1 ^' • "5?' '*-' ' Supposmg '',1 I, instead of beip.g hated and despised by your husband, were admired and loved by him. Would you not be madl> jealous then ? " Salome looked round at her without flii •• Adni rp. you he might, but love you " More than he lowed juii." " He could no^ do it." The girl burst into a mocking laugh, hold me cheap, think there is nothing in beside you— to love ? " •' On the contrary," answered Salome, crimsoning to the roots of her hair, "I am nothing, nothing at all; ignorant, toolish, fresh, and green, as you say—and you are so beautuii so clever, so experienced. I am nothing whatever in cor parison with you ; but then Philip, I mean my husband, yc know, could not love you more than me, because I am h ^ wife. '• Oh ! ' There was a depth of rr^ockery in the tone. Then up stood Miss Durham af^ain, and as Salome also rose, the stranger seized her by the si oulders, and held her at arm s length from her, and said, " Sh.dl I go, or shall I stay? Shall I run away, or " " You shall not run away. I will lasp you in my arms and stay you," exclaimed Salome, and s lited the action to the word. Miss Durham loosed herself from her almost roughl\'. " 't were better for both that I should go." Again she went to the window to gasp for air. She saw Philip still be- fore the eagle cage— straight, stiff, and e- ery inch a mercan- tile man. Her lip curled. " I will go," e le said. Then she saw Beaple Yeo stalk across the terrace. " No "—she cor- rected herself hastily—" I will stay." CHAPTER XLV. OBER ALP. AFTER Philip had looked sufficiently long at the caged eagle he went in search of the Captain and found him smoking in the verandah of the hotel. " Lambert," said he, "there's a deal of fi ss being made about this American lady, but who is she ? " 304 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. mi " Comes from Chicago," answered the Captain. " I know that, but I want to know something more con- cerning her." J , 1 • The Captain shrugged his shoulders. '• She s good-lookmg, deucedly so." . " That, also, I can see for myself. Have you made no m- quiries about her ? " " I ? Why should I ? " Philip called the head waiter to him. " Here. Who is this American lady ? " "Oh, from Chicago." " Exactly, the visitors' book says as much. I don't see how she can be rich, she has no lady's maid." "Oh, saire ! De American leddies aire ver' ind'pendent." There was nothing to be learnt from anyone about Miss Durham. He applied to the squeaky- voiced Chaplain with the mihtary moustache. "She may belong to the Episcopal Church of America, said the Chaplain, " but I don't know." Some of the waiters had seen her elsewhere, at other sum- mer resorts, always well dressed. Philip, after he had spent half an hour in inquiries, discovered that no one knew more about her than himself. He had heard nothing to her disad- vantage, but also nothing to her advantage. He might just as well have spared himself the trouble of asking. At tabU d'hote, Miss Durham sat at the long table. Salonie was disappointed. She thought that she had succeeded in completely patching up the difference. Philip was indifferent. Just as well that she should be elsewhere. She was an occasion of dissension, a comet that threw all the planetary world in his system out of their perihelion. He made no bones about saying so much. Salome looked sadly at him, when Colonel Yeo took his seat beside Miss Durham, and entered into ready converse with her. She could not take her attention off her friend ; she was uneasy for her, afraid what advantage the crafty Colonel might take of her inexperience. But it was not long before Philip heartily wished that Miss Durham had been in her place in their circle, for conversation flagged without her, or ceased to be general and disintegrated into whisperings between the girls Labarte, and confidences between Janet and Lambert, Salome was silent, and Mrs. Sidebottom engrossed in what she was eating. Philip spoke about politics, and found no listeners ; he asked about the excursions to be made OBER ALP. 305 from Andermatt, and was referred to the guide-book ; he tried a joke, but it fell dead. Finally he became silent as his wife and aunt, with a glum expression on his inflexible face, and found himself, as well as Salome, looking down the long table at Miss Durham. The young lady was evidently enjoying an animated and interesting conversation with Colonel Yeo, whose face became blotched as he went into fits of laughter. She was telling some droll anecdote, making some satirical remark. Phihp caught the eye of Yeo turned on him, and then the Colonel put his napkin to his mouth and exploded. Philip's back became stiff. It offended him to the marrow of his spine, through every articulation of that spinal column, to suppose himself a topic for jest, a butt of satire. He reddened to his temples, and finding that he had seated himself on the skirts of his coat, stood up, divided them, and sat down again, pulled up his collars, and asked how many more courses they were required to eat. " Oh ! we have come to the chicken and salad, and that is always the last," said Salome. •' I am glad to hear it. I never less enjoyed a meal before — -not even — " he remembered the dinner alone at Mergatroyd, with the parlour-maid behind his back observing his mole. He did not finish his sentence ; he did not consider it judicious to let his wife know how much he had missed her. It was not pleasant to be (at enmity with a person who by jibe and joke could make him seem ridiculous, even in such eyes as those of Beaple Yeo. It would be advisable to come to an agreement, a truce, if not a permanent peace with this woman. Presently Philip rose and walked down the salle. Several of those who had dined were gone, some remained shelling almonds, picking out the least uninteresting of the sugar- topped biscuits and make-believe maccaroons, that consti- tuted dessert. He stepped up to Miss Durham, and said, with an effort to be amiable and courteous : " We are medi- tating a ramble this afternoon, Miss Durham, to some lake not very distant ; and I am exponent of the unanimous senti- ment of our table, when I say that the excursion v/i!! lose its main charm unless you will' afford us the pleasure of your society." He had been followed by the Labarte girls, and they now put in their voices, and then Mrs. Sidebottom joined ; she came to back up the request. It was not possible for the 306 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. u American girl to refuse. The Captain and Janet had not united in the request, for they had attention for none but each other, and Salome had not risen and united in the fugue, for a reason unaccountable to herself — a sudden doubt whether she had acted wisely in pressing the lady to stay after she had resolved to go ; and yet— she could give to her- self no grounds for this doubt. A couple of hours later the party left the hotel. It was thought advisable that Janet should be taken to the summit of the pass in a small low carriage ; she could walk home easily down hill. To the carriage was harnessed an un- groomed chestnut cob, that had a white or straw-colored tail, and like coloured patches of hair about the hocks. It had the general appearance of having been frost-bitten in early youth, or fed on stimulants which had interfered with its growth, and deprived it of all after energy. The creature crawled up the long zigzag that leads trom Andermatt to the Ober Alp, and the driver walked by its head, ill disposed to encourage it to exertion. The Captain paced by the side of the carriage, equally undesirous that the step should he quickened, for he had no wish to overheat himself — time was made for man, not man for time — and he had an agreeable companion with whom he conversed. Mrs. Sidebottom engaged the Labarte girls, who — incon- siderate creatures— wanted to walk beside their aunt Janet, and take part in the conversation with the Captain. Mrs. Sidebottom particularly wished that her son should be left undisturbed. As an oriental potentate is attended by a slave waving a fan of feathers to drive away from his august presence the tormenting flies, so did the mother act on this occasion for her son — she fanned away the obtrusive Labarte girls. When she found that they were within earshot of the carriage, " No," said she, '• I am sure this is a short cut across the sward. You are young, and I am no longer quite a girl. Let us see whether you by taking the steep cross cut, or I, by walking at a good pace along the road, will reach that crucifix first." By this ruse she got the three girls well ahead of the conveyance. But Claudine found a patch of blue gcntianciia, and wanted to dig the bunch up. " No, no," advised Mrs. Sidebottom, " not in going out — on your return homewards ; then you will not have the roots to carry so far, and the flowers will be less faded." There was. reason in this advice, and Claudine followed it. OBER ALP. 307 Presently Amdie, the second, exclaimed, " But we are just in advance of Aunt Janet. Let us stay for her." " Yes, we will," agreed Fdlicite, the third ; " Claudine can go on with Madame." " We will all stay," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " Now, Amdie, I have seen your sketches, and you have your book with you. Is not that a superb view up the gorge, to the right ? I do not know the name of the mountain at the head. What a picture it would make ! And finished off with the spirit you throw into a drawing ! See, there is a chalet and some goats for foreground." " Cest vrai ! I will draw it." So Amelie sat on a rock and got out her materials, and the sisters sat by her talking and advising what was to be left in and what left but of the sketch. Meanwhile the conveyance containing Janet crawled by. The picture was still incomplete, and the little party was thrown a long way in the rear by this detention. To anyone observing the zigzag road up the Ober Alp Pass from a distance, the party would not have been supposed to possess homogeneity. At starting it was led by three- Philip, Salome, and the American lady ; but after the first stage of the ascent Salome fell back, then, little by little the other two quickened their pace till they had completely distanced the rest. At a lower stage of the inclined road, ascending at even pace, was Salome, alone. At about an equal distance below, on another stage of the zigzag, was the carriage with Janet and the Captain, and the driver, of whom no account was taken ; and sometimes ahead of the carriage, sometimes behind, making rushes, then halts, like a Cc /ey of doves followed by a hawk, was the little cluster of girls with Mrs. Sidebottom. From a distance at one moment the three girls seemed to be flying before the elder lady armed with a parasol, which she swung about her head ; then they seemed to cower on the ground into the herbage as birds beneath a swooping falcon. The reason why Salome was alone must be given. Before starting on the excursion, PhiHp said to his wife, " Let me have a minute alone with that person = 111 make some sort of apology, and set all to rights." Accordingly Salome had dropped back where the road made its first twist. But this does not explain why she remained alone for more than the minute. That this may 308 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ir an object of my indiscre- very uncom- be understood, it will be necessary to follow the conversation that passed between Philip and " that person." " My wife has found a pink," said Philip ; " she is fond of flowers." Then, as Miss Durham said nothing, he added,. " I afforded you some amusement at dinner." " Amusement ? " '• Apparently. It is not pleasure to be criticism. If you desired to punish me for tion, you must be satisfied. You made me fortable." " Amusement ! Oh ! do you mean when Colonel Yea laughed and looked at you ? I saw you turn red." " Enough to make a man turn red, when aimed at by the bow and arrow of female lips and tongue." " You are quite mistaken," said Miss Durham, laughing. " I was not shooting any poisoned arrow. Do you desire to know what I said ? " " Interest me, it must, as I was the object of the arrow, even if tipped with honey." " Very well, you shall know. I had seen you looking at the eagle in his cage. And I said to Colonel Yeo that the eagle reminded me of you." Philip winced. He remembered his own estimate of that wretched bird. " And pray," said he, " why am I like the eagle ? " " Because both are in situations for which neither was designed by nature. Do you suppose the eagle looks the draggled, disconsolate bird he does now, when on wing soar- ing over the glaciers ? Were his wings made that they might droop and drop their crushed feathers ? That stern eye, that it should stare at iron bars, at inquisitive faces peering between them ? Now, come, be open ; make me your con- fessor. Have you never had yearnings for something nobler, freer, than to be behind the bars of a counting-house, and condemned to the perpetual routine of business, like the mill of a squirrel's cage ? " Philip considered. Yes, he had wished for a less mono- tonous life. He had often desired to be able to hunt and shoot, and move in cultivated society, tour in Europe, and have leisure to extend his thoniorhfs tn nthr^r maff^^ro fVion *hp details of a lawyer's office or a manufacturer's set of books. " Your time is all barred," continued Miss Durham, " and the music of your hfe must be in common time. No elas- OBER ALP. 30^ ticity, no initiative, all is barred and measured. Tell me something about yourself." " I ! " This was a daring question to address to one sa reserved as Philip. " I have had nothing occur in my life that could interest you." " Because it has been spent in a cage. I know it has. I can see the gaol look in your face, in your back, in the way you wear your hair, in your coat, in your every action, and look, and tone of voice." " This is not complimentary." •' It is true. But you were not made to be a gaol-bird. No one is ; only some get caught early and are put behind bars, and see the world, and know it, only through bars ; the wind blows in on them only between bars, and the sun is cut and chopped up to them by bars and cross-bars, and all they know of the herbs and flowers are the scraps of chickweed and plantain, drooping and dying, that are suspended to their cage bars for them to peck at. I know exactly what they come to look like who have been encaged all their lives ; they get bald on the poll and stiff in their movements, and set in their back, and dull of eye, and narrow of mind." " You — have you not been a cage-bird ? " asked Philip,^ with some animation. " Oh, no, not I. I have kept outside the bars. I have been too fond of my liberty to venture behind them." " What do you mean by bars ? " asked Philip, with some gravity in his tone. " Bars ? There are bars of all sorts — social, religious^ conventional — but there ! I shock you ; you have lived so long behind them that you think the bars form the circum- ference of the world, and that existence is impossible, or improper, outside of them." " Beyond some none are at liberty to step. They are essential." " I am not talking of natural, but of artificial restraints which cramp life. Have you any Bohemian blood in you ? " " Bohemian ! " " Wild blood. I have. I confess it. A drop, a little drop, of fiery African blood. You in England have your class distinctions, uut they are as notning beside our Anicricau separations between white and black. With you a blot on the escutcheon by a mesalliance is nothing ; with us it is ineradicable. There is a bar-sinister cast over my shield and 310 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. shutting me out from the esteem of and association with those whose blood IS pure. Pure! It may be muddied with the mixture of villainous blood enough— of swindlers and rene- gades from justice, but that counts nothing. One little drop, an eighth part of a drop, damns me. I do not care. I thank that spot of taint. It has liberated me from conventional bonds, and I can live as I like, and see the sun eye to eye without intervening bars." Phihp had winced when she spoke about the co-existence ot pure blood with that of swindlers and renegades. He stopped and looked back. They had been walking fast, though up-hill. When talkers are excited and interested in what they say, they na urally quicken their pace. They had far outstripped balome ; as Philip looked back he could not see her, fof the ground fell away steeply and concealed the several folds of the road. "What?" asked Miss Durham, mockingly, " looking for one of your bars ? " ^ Philip turned and walked on with her. They had reached the sunimit, and the ground before them was level. On this track ot level mossy moor lay the lake of deep crystal water, in wnich floated masses of snow or ice, that had slidden from the mountain on the opposite side. Hardly a tree grew here, °" Z ^ ' exposed to furious currents of wind. " May I take your arm ? " asked Miss Durham. " I am heated and tired with this long chmb." Philip offered her the support she demanded. "I suppose," she said, "that you have not associated much with any but those who are cage birds ? " He shook his head and coloured slightly. " -Do you know what I am ? " she asked abruptly, and turned and looked at him, loosing her hand from his arm. 1 have heard that you are a lady with a large inde- pendent fortune. ^ "It is not true. I earn my living. I am a singer." ^he saw the surprise in his face, which he struggled to conceal. " It is so : and I am here in this clear air that my voice J --gain 11.3 luiic. 1 Sing — on the stage." She put her hand through his arm again. wruCT' '^^^'"^^' imprisoned eagle, I am a free singing-bird. What do you say to that ? " 6 s • JTIQ ARTEMISIA. 311 What could he say ? He was astonished, excited, be- wildered. He felt the intoxication which falls on an evan- gelical preacher when he mounts the platform to preach in a music hall. He was frightened and pleased ; his decorum shaken to its foundation, and cracking on all sides. •' What do you say to this ? " she asked, and looked full in his eyes, and her splendid orbs shot light and fire into his heart, and sent the flames leaping through his veins. He heaved a long breath. " Yes,'" she said, " you suffocate behind bars." Then she burst into a merry peal of laughter, and Philip involuntarily laughed also, but not heartily. CHAPTER XLVI. ARTEMISIA. urrs] *HERE is the restaurant," said- MLs Durham, " and being painted within and without, impossible for us to enter. What say you to walking on to the head of the lake ? I want to look over the col, and see the mountains of the Rhine valley above Dissentis." Philip hesitated, and again looked back. " I see," said Miss Durham ; " you are afraid of stepping out of your cage." " Not at all," answered Philip, flushing. " I am prepared to go to the end of this trough in the mountains with you, but I greatly doubt seeing much from the further end." " Well — if we see nothing, we can talk. Have you looked about you much since we began the ascent ? " " The time has flown," said Philip, looking at his watch. " It seems to me but a few minutes since." The long dreary valley or basin in which lay the lake was apparently closed at the end by a hill surmounted by a cross or flagstaff. The road ran along the north side of the lake^ with a tree to shade it. The party behind, when they came to the restaurant, could not fail to see them if they continued along the road, and might follow, or await them there. Philip walked on, but no longer gave Artemisia Durham his arm. He saw far away in the rear Mrs. Sidebottom signalling with her parasol ; but whether to him, or to the Labarte girls who were dispersed in the morass at the end of 312 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. ,fci£ rti Is ; Ik u no! tdh' ^'""^'"^ butterwort soldanella. and primula, he could His eyes were on the ground. He was thinking of his •companion, what a strange life hers must be, incomprehensi ble to him He felt how, if he were thrown into it, he would not know how to strike out and hold his chin abive water At the same time his heart beat fast with a wild vain desire for a freer life than that of commerce. The restraints to which he had been subjected had com- pressed and shaped him, as the Chinese lady's shoe compresses and shapes her foot-but the pressure had been pain^ful ;1t hr.d marked him. but the marks were ever sensitive. The ancient robe of the Carmelite fathers was of white wool h^hif^f ^''\^^^'^^ ^d they preten 'ed that they derivedZs habit from the mantle of Elijah, which he had dropped as he "^^^^ rTl^^'"^"^ "P *° ^^^^^"' ^"d the mantle h^d touched as It fell the spokes of the chariot of fire in which he ascended and was scorched m stripes. Philip, and many another sue cessful man of business who had been exalted to a posidon of comfort and warnith, has the inner garment of .is so^uT carred by the wheels of the chariot in which he has mounted. Philip felt his own awkwardness, his want of ease in other society han that narrow circle in which he had turned, his inability o move with that freedom and confidence which charlctedses ^r?%LrBohfi^?r'." generous society. Even ^^thJhls ^ ViT u Bohemian— he was as one walking and talking right , he was born to be at ease everywhere, to be able everywhere to walk upright, and to look around him ; he had been put m a cramping position, tied hand and foot and his head set in such a vice as photographers employ to g ve wha? they consider support and steadiness, and he was disponed stiffened, contracted. Had his hfe been happy ? He had never accounted it so-it had been formal at the solicitor's desk, and it was formal in the factory. Was man made and aunched into hfe to be a piece of clockwork ? He had bought, acted, lived an automaton life, and taken his pleasure in measuring glasses, never in full and free draughts ^ ^""'^ Mly ^°'' ^^^ ^ ^^^^^ existence ? " he asked 'thought- " Oh ! yes, the birds are happy ; all nature is happy so long as It IS free It is in the cage that the bird mopes and in the pot that the plant sickens.^ ^"opes, and ARTEMISIA. 313 corn- Had Philip looked in her face he would have seen a strange expression of triumph pass over it. She had carried her first point and gained his interest. "Here," she said, " is a large rock above the water; let us sit on it and I will tell you about myself. You had no confidence in me and would not give me your story. I will return good for evil and show you my past. I agree with you, there will be no view of the mountains above Dissentis from the col. It is not worth our while going on. Besides, I am tired." She took a seat on a broad boulder that had fallen from the mountains, and hung fast, wedged on one side, disengaged on the other, over the crystal water that., stirred by the light wind, lapped its supports. Looking into the clear flood beneath, they could see the char darting about, enjoying the sun that penetrated the water and made it to them an element of diffused light. Artemisia pointed to them, and said, " Who would not rather be one of these than a goldfish in a glass bottle ? ' Philip at once recalled the pond at Mergatroyd, with the hot water spurted into it from the engine, in which the gold- fish teemed, and the globes in every cottage window supplied with the unfortunate captives from this pond, swimming round a.id round all day, all night, every year, seeing nothing novel, without an interest, a zest in life. Such had his career been ; he a fish — not a gold one, nor even a silver one till recently, but quite a common brown fish — in a common glass re- ceiver full of stale water, renewed periodically, but always flat. He looked at the darting char with interest. " We are in the land of freedom," said Miss Durham. " Then don't stand on the rock like a semaphore. Sit down beside me, and let your feet dangle over the water. Oh ! as Polixenes says, ' to be boy "*ernal ! ' " " * With such a day to-r. rrow as to-day,' added Philip, completing the quotation, as he seated himself on the rock. How wonderfully brilliant the sun was at that height ! So utterly unlike the rusty ball that gave light at Mergatroyd, and there gave it charily. How intense the blue of the sky — cuA ttD iiic «accp-uciicu gciiiiaii, iiul liic vvaancU-uUi v^uDaii OI an English heaven. And the air was fresh ; it made the heart dance and the pulse throb faster, with a trip and a fandango such as the blood never attains in our grey and sober land. 814 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m Mrs QiVi^k^** ii . , . ^^' ^^^ behind could be seen to the party-to my aunt." ^ *° ^^ ^°'"^ ^^^^^ •' To your wife, you mean. Why not sav cjn , v^ . yui vvnere tne three confederates swore to shalcp r^ff tu^ chams that bound them and to be freeW iZ f 5 ^^^ glory of Switzerland no^ Letlhis l'^ Rii H r'^^'T 11'^^ "My mother," said Miss Durham ^' was ^ rnr,« "^-*^ ARTEMISL ni5 that intensity which characterises, in my experience, (i red prejudices, especially when unreasonable. My fathei . 1 in him a couple of drops of dark blood, and although my luother thought nothing c*" that when she took him, she speedilv came to regard it as an indelible stain. She threw it in his teeth, she fretted over it, and when I was born did not regard me with the love a child has a right to exact from its mother. The continual quarrels and growing antipathy between my parents led at length to their separation. My father left, and I believe is dead ; I never saw him after they parted. He may have married again, I do not know, but I believe he is dead. He made no enquiries after me and my mother, to whom I was a burden and a reproach ; she looked about for, and secured another, a more suitable partner, a German, work- ing in a factory. They had children, fair-haired, moon-faced, thick-set — and I was alone amidst them, the drudge or enemy of all, I had a good voice, and I was made nurse to the youngest children, and to still them 1 was accustomed to sing to them. The eldest boy had a clear, good voice also, and him I liked best of all my half-brothers and sisters. It was a great amusement to us to follow brass bands, or Italians with organs and monkeys ; and when we saw how that these obtained money, my brother Thomas and I agreed together that we would try our luck. One day — it was the day of the Declara- tion of Independence, when every one was out and all enjoy- ing themselves — Tom and I went into the most frequer^ted avenue of our town, and began to sing. Carriages with ladies and gentlemen passed, and troops of people in their best clothes, all in good humour, and all seeking amusement. We began to sing ' Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten,' Tom taking a second. Some Germans at once gathered about us, and threw coppers into Tom's cap. Presently a man came up with a red beard and a violin. He stood for a long time listen- ing, and then instead of giving us money he asked where we lived, and what our parents were, I told him, and next day he came to see my mother. He was a musician, and he offered to buy me of her, that he might teach me to sing and accompany him." Philip's face grew grey, and the lines in it became more marked. He no longer threw bits of sedum at the fish. He clutched the rock with both hands. " And — what did your mother say ? " he asked. " She sold me — for seventy-five dollars." Ml 816 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. silent also. ' ^ "^"^ -'°'"'^ moments Artemisia was "Horolfcto' whlnlf'/""^'^ ™'-' PI^^'P asked. " Still a child I .r? '^'^'""^action took place ? " man, and he ta ^ht L f ™''"' .^''°"' "'">' 'he red-bearded certs made me S ?nH ? ""5' '"""='' "«= ^<=». and at con I was happTer w^h hi fhlJT 'PP'^'^- ' '"'"d ">at. habies to carry about an^ fi^t ^ "'^' "«',""'' '^ ■ I had no ing to do. Besides he w»« I, H ' ".T'^ "' ""^ ''""^e drudg- man after Ws Sion L?rJ f"^ '"' "^' ^" honourable daughter, and took immen"J[n!f?f"'' ^' '' I "''''' '"^ singer. But always ThTburd^nn/K"" """ '° '"^ ^ P"^^''' you cos, me, wha.^rouble you" ive me'^Tft^rw' ' ?^^ "J^' you are a finished artist von m,S k„ Afterwards, when of years, and repay me' Z my pa^L' "^Thid '"'/"' ^ '"' af,'ainst that. I was ni„f^ ., ^ Pu r* ^ "^'^ "o* a word and I intended to show mv ,1^^^^^ '^V I"' '"^^^^^^ ^° ^im. So I grew up. Joinrrh^.T ^ .1 u'?'' ^^ "'^'"^ ^^ ^^ required protected me. tho^h not "iw^"^^ .1^ ^"^ '"^^ ' ^e always Onde in Californ^ «fo ^^ i" *^^ "^^^t heroic manner and I smging at ; lirorT' P^':^^^"^^"^' he with his fiddle; became offen ively Xntive 'to""^"" " ^r"^^ '^^^^ gold-digger leave the place with him.nJh' ^^ "^^'*^'- "^ade me Francisco I asked him wh^ ^e ran away with me to San shoot or be shot bv that Jln^ ^I'^i!^.^" '""^^ d° that, or I remember su king i wo°m' l"^ ^^?^^ "° ^^«h for either, about me." ^' '^°"^'' have hked to see them fight ;; How lo„g did you remain with this man ?" thing be terand?oear"n '"^ *^'"' J"^* ^^ ^ ^^^ ^t for some- own game ' '° '^'" "^°^^ "^°"^y' "^y "master spoiled^fs " How so ?" .jecur^i"?"'^'^."' "'""y me. I reckon he thn„„i,. .,„ ..,,. seTplslered m":'bruTihis" ^ "^f!, T' ^^^'^: ^<^^ and let him have aTh°arl-L'iii„rsh"re"?m'^^'' ""'■ ^™ a lion . snare— ot my earnmgs ; but "^ ARTEMISIA. 317 he would not leave me in peace — he spoiled his own pame by that, and set free. I left him." "And then ?" •' Oh ! I have been independent since then. I have sung in America, but I have met with most succtss in Germany, I go about where I will. I liave no master, I earn enough to enable me out of the opera season to go to the mountain or the seaside. This is a dull spot, and I would not have made so long a stay in it had it not been that I was ordered to the elevated air here, because I had suffered from a relaxed or overstrained organ. Now you know my story. What do you think of it ?" Philip was watching her face, and feeling as if he received a shot in his heart every time she turned her splendid full eyes on him, and his hands trembled as they held the stone. " Ever since I left my red-bearded master I have been alone — alone in this world ; I have had no one to whom to cling, no mind to which to go for advice in times of doubt and dis- tress. Alone — do you know what it is to be alone ? " " Yes," said Philip ; he let sink his head on his breast, and looked down into the water. He also had spent a lonely youth, but in what opposite circumstances. " You can have no idea, ' she continued, " how I have longed, with agony of heart, for some one— some one whose judgment I could trust, whose mind was superior, whose experience had been made in just those departments of life to which I am strange. I have longed for such a one, whom I could regard as a very dear friend, and to whom I could go in trouble and perplexity. But I have no one ! For all these years I have been as much alone as the man in the moon." Phihp put his hand to his collar. He tried to straighten the points which had become limp— his hands shook so that he could do nothing with them ; he was being burnt up, con- sunied, by her eyes which were on him as she spoke of her desire to find a triend. " It is not strange," she said, " that I who have been preaching freedom should feel the need of a bar— not of many, but just one to hold by ? Do vqu know what it is to stand at the verge of a precipice ? To stand on a spire top where there is sheer abyss on every side ? Can you imagine the giddiness, the despair that comes over one ? My place is one surrounded by precipices, dangers everywhere ; I see nfc»rtk-i««:tij«iNttivA--v" »-„», 318 THE PENNYCOMEQQICKS. hands thrust out to give me the push to send me over, but not one — no, not one — to hold me." " You have mine," said Philip, and laid his on her wrist. She took his hand and pressed it thankfully. " Now," she continued, " you can understand what it must be to one on a dizzy peak, or apex of a building, if there be a somethmg— a bar even, to which to hold. Then the abysses below can be gazed into with impunity. Holding to that support, the dangers are no longer dreadful, there is no more fear of fall out of sheer desperation." She let go Philip's hand, and stood up. '' It is time to return to our party. Oh, what a relief it has been to me to pour out my heart to you. And now, in return, tell me about Colonel Yeo." The sound of that name at once brought Philip to his senses. He rose to his feet and stepped into the road. " I am sorry to be unable to tell you about him, because I know httle about him. As I said before, we belong to different spheres." They walked back together, talking of the weather and the mountains and flowers, and found the rest at a table. The restaurant was under repair, and no refreshments could be obtained there. " Well ?" said Mrs. Sidebottom, " you have kept us wait- ing a long time." " We hav- been waiting for you," said Miss Durham. " We thought you would come on to the head of the pass." Philip caught Salome's eye and avoided it. She looked wistfully, wonderingly at him. What did he mean by at one minute treating the American lady with coldness and rude- ness, and then reversing his behaviour towards her absolutely and at once ? She took her husband's arm as they walked back to And- ermatt. Philip was silent. He thought about the story he had heard, and of the loneliness of the poor girl who had confided her history to him. " What a long way this is, dear," said Philip. " It seems an age since we began the descent." m. EDELWEISS. 319 CHAPTER XLVII. EDELWEISS. PHILIP could not sleep during the night that followed the expedition to the Ober Alp. His mind was occupied with what he had heard. He thought of the poor girl, sold by her mother ; of her rude apprenticeship, of the risks she had undergone ; beautiful, young, attractive. He tossed in his bed. What would become of her? Could she stand exposed to the dangers that beset her, and not, as she half- threatened, throw herself over ? What could be done for her? She had spoken of the freedom of her life as givmg zest to existence, but too great freedom may pall ; it had palled on the girl, and she had put up her hands, pleading to be fitted with light but strong manacles. What a contrast was to be found between his life and hers ! He had been cramped and hedged about with restrictions ; she had enjoyed an excess of liberty. Virtue, says Aristotle, is to be found in a happy medium, and not in virtue only, but the plenitude and mani- foldness of life can only unfurl itself in a happy medium between excess of freedom and oppressive restriction. Philip was and ever had been conscious that his abilities had not been allowed due expansion in the career into which he had been squeezed ; and this American girl, with doubtless splendid capabihties of mind and heart, had allowed them to run riot and dissipate their fragrance in untutored independence. When she fixed her great dark eyes on him, what a thrill passed through him ! and when she took his hand, fire ran up his veins, and broke into a blaze in his heart. What could he do for her ? How was it possible for him to assist her ? to be to her the wise friend she desired ? If he had made her acquaintance two years ago it would have been another matter, he would have thrown himself at her feet — metaphorically, of course — and asked her to take him as her guide, protector, and friend, to tie up her future with his, and so each would have contributed something to the other to make up what each lacked. Then what a dilTerent sort of life his would have been ! His present mode of existence was similar, only better in quality, to that he had led before ; one had been a sordid drudgery, the present was a gilded drud- 320 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. gery. The difference was in the adjective that qualified, not in the substance of which the stuff of his Hfe was made up. He had now to devote the same attention to figures and techni- calities and details as before. The figures, technicalities, de- tails were formerly relative to conveyancing, they now con- cerned linen manufacture. Such acquaintances as he had formed at Nottingham had not been interested in much beyond their business, and the acquaintances he had formed at Mer- gatroyd had their interests concentrated on their business. Art, literature, science had been to those he knew at Notting- ham, and were to those he knew at Mergatroyd, names, not ideas. Was life worth living in such surroundings, tied to such a routine ? It is said that man as he gets older fossilizes, the currents of his blood choke the arteries, veins, vessels of heart and brain, till like furred waterpipes and crusted boilers they can no longer act. But was not the life to which he was condemned, with its monotony, its constraint, its isolation from the current of intellectual life— a mechanising of man ? Phihp knew that he was losing, had lost, much of hi? individ- uality, almost all the spontaneity that had been lodged in him by the Creator, and was growing more and more into a machine, like his spinning jennies and steam looms. He thought of Salome. Had she many ideas outside the round of ordinary life ? Was she not an ennobled, sweeter lodging- house keeper ? She had been well educated, but her mind did not naturally soar into the ideal world. It went up, spas- modically, like the grasshoppers, a little way, and was down on its feet again directly. She was interested in her baby, anxious to have her house neat, the cobwebs all awa" the hnen in perfect order, all the towels marked and numbered, the servants m thorough activity, the quotients for the cake and puddings measured in scales, not guessed. She was de- voted to her fxowers also— he recollected the hyacinths, and certainly they had filled his room with fragrance and antici- pations of spring. But he had sent her to sleep by reading aloud Addison's "Spectator," and when he tried " Shake- peare he found that she had no insight into the characters, and accepted the beauties rather than seized on them . c^^^^^i'^,^^^^^ ^^^^ ^ tremor, what if he had never met ^aiviiie, and had met Artemisia ? l hen indeed he would have been transported on strong wings out of the world of common-place, and the sound of common talk, and the murky atmosphere of vulgar interests, into a region where he would EDELWEISS. 321 have shake i off his half acquired habits of formahty, his shy- ness, his cumbrousness and angularity, and become light- hearted, easy, and independent. In dreams we sometimes imagine ourselves to be flying ; we rise from the ground, and labour indefatigably with our arms as wings ; and Philip was now dreaming, though not asleep, fancying that he could part with some of his gravity, and by an effort maintain himself in another sphere. He had missed his way in life ; he was never designed to become a piece of clockwork, but to enjoy life, seize it with both hands and hold it fast, and drink the mingled cup to the dregs, crowned with roses. Hitherto he had not suspected that the blood in his arteries was an effervescing wine ; he had supposed it very still. What was to be done for Artemisia ? It would be inhu- man not to be reconciled with conscience, to turn away, to cast her off, when she entreated him to be her friend and help her with counsel. But how could he assist her ? A drown- ing, despairing girl cried out for help. Could he suffer her to sink ? Had he not promised her his assistance ? •' I am positively determined," said Mrs. Sidebottom, next day, " that we shall go to-morrow to the Hospice. I want to see it, and the dogs, and the scenery. So I have ordered carriages, and what is more we will stay there a day or two ; then, such as like can descend the Val Tremola, and such as like can climb the Pizzo Centrale." " I have no objection," answered Salome. " We must not leave Andermatt till we have been over the pass and seen the the beauties or terrors of the further side. What do you say,, Philip ? " ♦' I shall be glad." He stood up from table. " Where are you going, Philip ? " " To Miss Durham, to invite her to join us." " Of course," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " Let me see, we are eight. Oh ! it won't matter, one of the girls can sit outside.. The drivers always walk going up hill, so that there will be five in one carriage, and five in the other. And Miss Durham will pay her share. Besides, if there is any climbing and excursioning to be done she will pay half of a guide." But strange caprice in Salome, she put her hand on Philip's arm, and said, in a low tone, " No ! Philip ; no ! " Philip looked at her with surprise. Why should she not wish the American lady to join the party ? She was hei i I S22 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. m m friend. She had been so desirous that he and Miss Durham should conclude peace, and now that peace was agreed upon, Salome said, '« No ! Philip, No ! " when he proposed to invite the Chicago girl to join them. How capricious ! How unrea- sonable Salome was. She forms a wish, he hastens to accord it, and lo ! she hangs back and is dissatisfied. His aunt's favourite expression, " Fiddlestick ends ! " rose to his lips. He was not the man to be turned about by the wayward, unreasoned fancies of his wife. " Why not ? " he asked. But Salome gave him no answer. She had formed no motive in her heart for asking him not to invite Miss Durham ; she had not considered a reason. She reddened to the roots of her hair, but neither gave a reason nor repeated her request. There lingered all that day a little something, a dissonance of mood between Philip and Salome ; neither could account for it, and neither attempted to account for it. He was silent ; he wandered about the hotel and the grounds with a hope to light on Miss Durham. He did not go into the salle or on the terrace, into the reading-room, or about the garden search- ing for her. He did not ask the waiters where she was, but he looked about wherever he went, expecting to see her, and when he found her not in reading-room or salle, on terrace or in the garden, he felt that the place was uninteresting, and he must perforce go elsewhere. Salome was gentle as usual, spending much time with her baby, showi.ig it to those guests who were so gracious as to notice it, and smiling with pleasure when it was admired ; but she was not herself, not as happy as she had been. Hitherto the only jar to her content was her husband's preju- dice against Artemisia ; now the jar arose— she did not explain to herself how it arose, but she wished that Philip had not gone so far in his change of sentiment. Yet, with her natural modesty and shrinking from blame-casting, she reproached herself for grudging to her friend that friendship which she had herself invited Philip to bestow. The next day was lovely, vath a cloudless sky, and the carriages departed. Some grumbling ensued and had to be resisted, on the part of the drivers, because five persons were ..!,..!.!ijca iiitw v/tic v^aiiiaj^c. iviiii. oiueuoiioni poinrea our that the driver would walk. That was true, was the reply, but not till Hospenthal was reached ; moreover, the horses could not draw more than four up the St. Gotthard road to EDELWEISS. 323 the Hospice. There was still snow over a considerable tract ; however, at length the difference was overcome by the promise of a small extra payment — two and a half francs extra threw such energy into the horses, increased their power of traction, so that they consented for that price to draw five instead of four persons up the ascent from Hospenthal to the Hospice. In one carriage, that in front, sat Mrs. Sidebottom, Janet and the Captain, and one of the girls, the youngest. In the other carriage were Salome and Miss Durham, Philip and the two other Labarte girls. But Philip did not remain long in it ; at the steep ascent above the little picturesque cluster of houses, church and castle that constitute Hospenthal, he got out and walked. The banks were overgrown with the Alpine rhododendron, as flames bursting out of the low olive green bushes, and Philip hastened to pick bunches for the ladies. By a singular chance the best flowers and those best arranged went to Miss Durham. " See dere ? " said the driver, taking off his hat. " Vot is dat ? Dat is Edelweiss. You shee ? " He held his dirty brown cap to Philip, and showed him a tuft of white flowers as though made out of wool. Philip had never seen the like before. " Are these found here in these mountains ? " " Jawohl ! round there. Up high ! Shee ! " The man pointed with his whip to the rocky heights. " She grow up very high, dat vlower you give to your loaf ! '' " Loaf ! " '* Jawohl ! " The man winked, put his hand to his heart.. ** To your loaf — shatz ! You undershtand." Philip flushed dark. He was hot with walking. " Let me have some of that flower. You shall have it back. No, thank you, not your hat." The man pulled the blossoms out from the dirty ribbon that retained them. " Dey is dry. But you should shee when dey fresh." Philip took the little flowers to the side of the carriage. " Look at these," he said. " The man calls them — no, I cannot say the name." " Edelweiss," said Salome. " I have seen it dried in the shop windows. It is rare." *' Edelweiss means the Noble White flower," said Miss Durham. " It grows far from human habitation, and is much S24 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. sought after. I have never found it myself, and never had any fresh picked given to me." " Would you Uke some ! " asked Philip. •' Very much indeed," answered Artemisia. " If it be possible to get any you shall have it," he said. Then he walked on. The fore carriage was stopped, and Mrs. Sidebottom was ■descending with Claudine Labarte, whom she had persuaded to get out with her and pick flowers, thus leavmg the Captain and Janet by themselves. " Before long," said Mrs. Sidebottom, " we shall be beyond the line where flowers grow, so we must make the best of our opportunity now. Miss Labarte." Then Mrs. Sidebottom fell back to where Phihp was and took his arm, and pressed it, looked up at him humorously and said, " I have a bit of news to tell you. He is going to propose. That is why I have got Felicity out of the carriage." " Who ? Lambert ? " '* Lambert, of course. Not the driver. And to Janet. Have you not seen it coming ? " " But pnrhaps she will not have him." " Fiddlestick-ends ! Of course she will. Don't you see that she hkes him, and has been drawing him on ? Besides, I have sounded her. The only difficulty is about Salome." " How can she be a difficulty ? " " Oh, she may think it too soon for them to get married when Mrs. Cusworth died so recently." " Then they can postpone the marriage." '• Fiddlefaddle ! Of course not. Always strike whilst the iron is hot. That is Edelweiss in your hand, is it ? Oh, could you manage to find or get a man to find some quite fresh, for Lambert to present to Janet. It is the correct thing in the Alps. The graceful accompaniment of a declar- ation." " I will try to get some," said Philip. " Lambert, you see, will be too much engaged with Janet to go far himself; besides, he is not able to take great exertion. Climbing has a deteriorating effect on the trouser- knees, it makes them baggy. You vvill get him some ; " I will go searching for Edelweiss when we reach the Hospice," said Philip. To himself he muttered, " But not for Lambert and Janet." THE GAUNTLET DANGLED. 293 admitted. She saw at a glance that her place was taken, and the went without demur or a look of disappointment to the long table. She had sufficient tact to perceive that Phihp disliked her, and she had no intention of pressing her society on those who did not desire it. So far from seemmg vexed, a slight contemptuous smile, like the flicker of summer light- ning, played about her lips. She caught Salome's eye, full of appeal and apology, and returned it with a good-natured nod. "A trifle such as this," said the nod, "will not give me offence." ,.•,,• uu Mrs. Sidebottom sat beside Philip and plied him with questions relative to the intentions of Uncle Jeremiah- questions which he was unable to answer, but she attributed his evasive replies to unwilHnjiness to speak, and pressed him the more urgently. The captain was attentive to Janet, who had recovered her spirits, laughed and twinkled, and without intentionally coquetting, did coquet with him. Janet became dull in female society, but that of men acted as a tonic upon her ; it was like Parrish's Chemical Food to a bloodless girl ; it brisked her up, gave colour to her cheek, and set her tongue wagging. The captain was good-natured and he threw a word or two to the Labarte girls, but devoted his chief atten- tion to Janet. Salome was left to herself, Mrs. Sidebottom engrossed her nephew, whether he would or not, and when he said some- thing to Salome he was interrupted by Mrs. Sidebottom, who exclaimed, " Now, fiddle-de-dee, you will have plenty of time to talk in private to your wife, whereas I shall see you only occasionally, and I am particularly interested in all you can tell me of Jeremiah. Give me your candid opinion ; what will he do ? Is he angry with me ? " " I can give no opinion without grounds on which to base it, and Uncle Jeremiah has not taken me into his confidence." " I see you have the reserve of a lawyer. I had enough of that when Sidebottom was alive. I hate reserve. Give me frankness. Now— if you will not tell me what you know of mv brother's intentions " ' " I know nothing, and therefore can divulge nothing. " You have been a fortnight and more under the same roof with him and have not found out his intentions ! ¥v''ell —to change the subject— what do you think of the scheme for buying up the Hospice on the St. Gotthard and turning it into an establishment for Mount St. Bernard dogs ? " 10 294 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. CHAPTER XLIII THE GAUNTLET CAST. WHEN supper was ended, the whole party adjourned ta the promenade outside the hotel, where a fountain splashed in a basin, and in an aviary on a perch stood a scowling, draggled eagle, and beside the aviary were cages with marmots, smelling abominably, and fettered on a patch of grass was a miserable chamois that seemed to have the mange. . ... It was delightful to walk m the crisp pure air of evening without cap or bonnet, and watch the evening glow on the snow-fields, and listen to the tinkle of the bells as the cows were driven home from the Alpine pastures and diverged to their several stables from the main street. Beaple Yeo came out after the party at Philip's table, not hatless, and his puggary in the 'iusk fluttered like a gigantic white moth. The chaplain for the sun-mer from England was also wplking in the grounds with his newly-married wife : a feeble youth with a high-pitched voice and a cackling laugh, who had cultivated a military moustache, to point out his imbecility, as the ass in the fable assumed a lion's skin, but was revealed as an ass on opening his mouth. A party of Germans were feeding and talking vociferously. A couple of Alpine Club men in knickerbockers, carrying their alpenstocks proudly trudged in with a guide, the latter laden with their knapsacks. Salome had been walking, nestled against Philip's side, not saying much but feeling happy, when her attention was attracted by the wailing of a babe from one of the hotel windows. " Philip, dear ! " she said " there is my pet, my darling crying. I must tear myself away from you and go to him. I know he wants me. He is so clever. He is quite aware that I am here, and resents being rocked to sleep by the Swiss nurse, he is protesting that nothing will make him close his peepers but mamma's voice, and a kiss. And — oh, dear, dear Philip, I don't like to think it possible you could be unkind to anyone — there is Miss Durham behind us, all by herself; do —do say a word to her and be civil. It was rather— well, not quite rude, but strange of us paying no attention to her at THE GAUNTLET CAST. 295 supper, and turning her out of her place. Phihp, I could not ■eat any supper — I was so uncomfortable. I would not hurt anyone's feelings willingly, and I am sure Miss Durham has not been treated with consideration ; would you — because I ask yot' -for my sake speak to her when I am gone to baby." She looked up entreatingly in his eyes, loosed her hand from his arm and was gone. Philip slackened his pace, then halted, to allow the Ameri- can lady to catch him up. He would speak to her, and give her to understand, of course politely, that intimacy with his wife must cease. When she came level with him he raised his hat, and said, " A beautiful evening ; a charming evening." " So I have already perceived, Mr. Pennycomequick." " What a surprise this green basin of valley is to one emerging from the ravine of the Reuss," said Philip, " Yes," with indifference ; then, with animation, " By the way, you were in the carriage with Colonel Yeo." " I beg pardon, he was in the carriage with me." •' I suppose you are old friends ? " said the lady. Philip stiffened his back. " Miss Durham, we belong to distinct classes of society. With his I have nothing in common." " But you knew each other ? " " I knew of him. I cannot say I knew him." " Have you no ambition to rise to his social grade ? " . " To— rise— to— his— social grade ! " It took Philip some time to digest this question. He replied, ironically, " None m the least, I do assure you. I am thankful to say that I belong to that middle clasc which works for its living honour- ably, diligently, and finds its pleasure and its pride in industry." " And Colonel Yeo ? " " Oh ! I assure you he does not soil his fingers with honest trade or business." " You don't want to know him ? " " I have not the smallest ambition." After a pause, during which neither spoke, Philip re- sumed. " There are subjects that are distasteful to me ; this IS one." •' I see," sard Miss Durham, " you are a radical." " We will let the subject drop," said Philip. " This air is delightful to me after the smoke of a Yorkshire manufacturing district." ^ 2»6 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. •♦ It is really surprising how fresh, notwithstanding, your wife is," answered the Chicago lady. Philip turned sharply round and looked at her. " Fresh ! he repeated. He did not understand what her meaning was ; fresh in complexion, or that her character was green and raw. " Her freshness is quite delightful," added the lady. Then Philip's anger broke loose. He was offended at any remark being made on Salome by a person of whom he knew nothing. " Indeed— perhaps so. And it is pi^cisely this freshness^ this generosity of mind, this ignorance of the world, which leads her to extend the hand of fellowship to— to anv one—to those who may not be so fresh as herself— who may be quite the reverse." Miss Durham stood still, her face gleaming with anger. " I know, sir, very well what you mean. You know that I am alone, without a man— a father, brother or husband by to protect me from insult, and you take this advantage to address me thus." She revolved on her heel and walked hastily back to the hotel. Philip stood rooted to the spot. What had he done ? What shadow of a right had he ta address an inoffensive girl with such impertinence ? A girl who had done him no harm, and of whom he knew nothing, and who, for aught he knew to the contrary, might be as respectable, high-minded, and well-connected as the best lady in America. She had been alone in this foreign corner shut out from social intercourse with her fellow countrymen, and she had formed an acquaintance with his wife, his wifes sister, and the Labarte girls. What right had he to step m and thrust her out of association with them ? He had done what he determined, but done it in so clumsy a manner as to put himself in the wrong, make himself who stood on punctilio, appear an unlicked bear. He had behaved to an unprotected, young, and beautiful girl in a manner that would have disgraced the rudest artisan, in a manner that he knew not one of his honest Yorkshire workmen in his factory ■would have dared to behave. AND PICKED UP. 297 CHAPTER XLIV. AND PICKED UP. MATTERS that look serious at night shrink to trifling significance in the morning. Philip rose refreshed by sleep, with a ' ucancy of heart he had not experienced for many months, and a resolution to enjoy his holiday now that he was taking one. How often had he longed for the chance of making an excursion on the Continent, of seeing the snowy ranges of the Alps, and studying fresh aspects o£ human life. Now the opportunity had come, and he must make the most of it. His prospects at home were not such as to discourage him, he was no longer the ruling manager of the Pennycomequick firm, but he was not going to be kicked out of the concern as he had at first feared. Uncle Jeremiah proposed to take him into partnership, making him working partner, and in all probability he would be better off than with Mrs. Sidebottom consuming more than half the profits and contributing nothing. He had been tired with his journey yesterday, irritated at finding Beaple Yeo in his proximity, and he had given way to his irritation and spoken uncourteously to an Ameri- can lady. What of that ? Who was she to take offence at what he said ? If she were angered she must swallow her wrath. She had vexed him by pushing herself into the acquaintance of his wife. If people will cHmb over hedges they must expect scratches. If requisite he could apologise and the thing was over. Miss Durham had made a remark which he considered a slight passed on his wife, and he was right to resent it. If she had made a thrust with an un- guarded foil It was not likely that he would retaliate with the end of his, blunted by a button. He came down stairs feeling cheerful and on the best of terms with the world. He would go for a walk thrt day with Salome— to the Ober Alp, and pick gentians and Alpenrose; and in preparation for the walk, he went to th^ nr^u^^^ir^r. «f carved work photographs, and Alpine paraphernalia exhibited in the salle-d-manger by the head waiter for sale, and bought hiniself^ a stout walking-stick with an artificial chamois horn as handle. Then he strode out into the village street, and looked in at the shop windows. There was only one shop 298 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. iH''- 5| that interested him, it contained crystals smoked and clear, and specimens of the rocks on the St. Gotthard pass, collec- tions of dried flowers and photographs. When he returned to the inn he found that his party was in the salle awaiting him. The usual massive white coffee- cups, heap of rolls ah crust outside and bubbles within, wafers of butter, and artificial honey were on the table. A German lady was prowling about the room with her head so tumbled that it was hard to believe she had dressed her hair since leaving her bed, and the curate was there also, ambling round his bride and squeaking forth entreaties that she would allow him to order her eggs for breakfast. Phihp was heartily glad that he sat along with his party at one table, in the alcove. Miss Durham was not there. On enquiry Salome learned that she had ordered breakfast to be taken to her room. " So much the better," said Philip. "My dear, surely you made friends yesterday evening after I left you." , , " Come— to table," said Philip, and then, *' on the con- trary, I don't know quite how it came about, but something I said gave her umbrage, and she flew away in a rage. I suppose I offended her. It does not matter. Pass me the butter." *' It does not matter ! Oh, Phihp ! " " Given Miss Durham offence ! " exclaimed bottom. " But she is worth thousands. How be so indiscreet ? " " She is so charming," said Janet. " So amiable," murmured Claudine Labarte. ''Mais, quelle gaucherie ! " whispered the penultimate Labarte to the youn<(est sister. Then ensued a silence. Philip looked from one to another. Already a cloud ha.l come into his clear sky. PhiHp said sternly, " Pass me the butter. ' Those who seemed least concerned were the Captain and Janet, who sat together and were engrossed in little jokes that passed between them, and were not heard or regarded by the rest of the compan) . " This is very unfortunate," said Mrs. Sidebottom, "for we had made a plan to go the Hospice together, and she would have paid her share of the carriage." Salome looked into her plate, her colour came and went. Mrs. Side- could you AND PICKED UP. 299 She slid her hand into that of her husband, and whispered, 1 did not mean to reproach you. I am sure you were right." •' I was right," answered Philip. •« Something she said appeared to me a reflection on you and I fired up. I am your husband, and am bound to do so. ' "I am quite sure, then, you misunderstood her," said balome; "dear Miss Durham could not— no, I do not mean tnat— would not say a word against me. Of course I know 1 have plentv of faults, and she cannot have failed to observe them ; but she would not dream of alluding to them, least oi all to you. " That is possible," answered PhiHp. " And I will say or do something to pass it off. But, I hope you see that I did the correct thing in taking your part, even if no slight was intended. " Of course, Philip." Then Salome stood up and said, "I will go to her. will tell her there was a misunderstanding. It will come bes* trom me, as I was the occasion." Philip nodded. It was certainly best that Salome should do this, and save him the annoyance and— well, yes, the humiliation of an apology. ^ When Salome Wis gone Philip spoke to the eldest L,abarte girl but (c nd her uninteresting ; and the younger sisters looked at hi ^'ith ill-concealed dissatisfaction. He had come to Andermatt and spoiled their party. They had been cheerful and united befon Miss Durham had been mfunely amusing, and now, Philip had introduced discord was wooden and weariful. They wished he had remained at home in smoky, foggy England ; if he came-he should have left the fog and chill behind him, instead of diffusing it over a contented and merry party. Mrs. Sidebottom had left the table to haggle with the head waiter over a paper-cutter with a chamois leg as handle, that she wanted to buy and send as a present to Jeremiah, but was indisposed to pay for it the price asked by the waiter. f y vji ii me .f fL^""*' "'^£^"^'" «^^' ^^he waiter, " if you do not take him IIa P^;^^'^MaaemoiseIle Durham will ; she have admired _... v/an-.ed .o uu, iiurx, and she goes away to-day.'^ ru.hJ^T ?"/^!u' ^° u? ' " ^^^ia^ed Mrs. Sidebottom, and rushed back to the table to announce the news. " Why- who will go halves with us in vehicles ! This is your doing. Phihp. You have offended her, and are driving her away '' ir I 300 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. The announcement produced silence ; and all eyes were turned on Philip, those of the Labarte girls with undisguised indignation. Even the Captain and Janet ceased their con- versation. An angel may have passed through the room, but he must have been a crippled one, so long did he take in traversing it ; nor can he have been a good one, so little light and cheerfulness did he diffuse. . , t^, . • ••Well!" said Philip, "what if she be going? That is no concern of ours." Then he stood up and left the room. He was in an unamiable mood. This party did not show him the considera- tion that was due to him ; and found fault with him about trifles. He left the hotel, and wandered to the aviary, where he remained contemplating the scowling eagle. The bird perhaps recognised a similarity of mood in his visitor, for he turned his head, ruffled his feathers, and looked at Philip. •• Well," said Philip, " that is the king of the birds, is it ? To my mind a bumptious, ill-conditioned, dissatisfied, and uninteresting fowl." * j ^u Then he moved in front of the marmot cage. And these are marmots, that spend more than half their hfe in sleep. Very like Lambert Sidebottom, or Pennycomequick, as he is pleased to call himself now." . ™ , , • r He looked at the eagle again. " Pshaw ! Pluck him of his self-consciousness as Aquila— and what is he? What is he ? Then he wandered away among the flower-beds and bushes of syringa without a purpose, grumbling to himself at the manners of those Labartes, and the figures that Lambert and Tanet made, laughing over inane jokes, and regretting that he had allowed Salome to go in search of the Chicago Lady. Salome in the meantime had hastened to her friends room, the number of which she knew, and found her packing her portmanteau and dress-boxes. The room was strewn with dresses. , . ^.i,^ " But—" exclaimed Salome on entering, " what is the meaning of this. Miss Durham ! You are surely not going to leave ^ -A . • 1 T >» ^^^.A ♦Uo A rjTpriran ladv " I have '* L/ertainiy i am, aiiawcicv^ nn- jin.ciiv,rt«i la^j. ± been insulted here, and shall leave the place for one where there are better manners." " Oh don't go. My husband did not mean to otiend you. I do not' know what he said, but I am quite sure he would do AND PICKED UP. 301 3 were guised r con- m, but ake in e light 'hat is in an sidera- i about where le bird , for he Up. 5, is it ? id, and d these 1 sleep, as he is him of What [ bushes : at the )ert and that he dy. friend's packing ; strewn t is the going to " I have le where end you. vould do nothing ungentlemanly, unkind. He has had a long jourrey, and this and other matters had just put him in a condition of vm, win f J'^^^^^t- ^^f y"" wish it he will explain, but surely you will take my word that no impertinence was intended." Miss Durham looked at Salome steadily. •' The word has been said." " But," pleaded Salome. " my husband will unsay it I entreat you to forget and forgive." ^ " I cannot. It is not my nature." h.rl^°* ^Tri;^ • ^^' ^''^^ Durham, half the sweetness and happiness of life is made up of forgiveness." ^r.ri -^^ ^'^^'''" ^^^^ *^^ American, and stooped to her woiK again, Salome went to her and arrested her hands. " I will not he^l tn\t ^ ff*" ^° ^°\ ^ "'^^"^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ a" ache in mJ ation ' H 'if , '^t ^°\^f.^ ^°"" ^^^y ^^^hout reconcili^ fhT'f . ^al^jaughing, half crying, she added, "I thought that If ,t could possibly be that you and my hu;band should meet you would become close friends-but I never supposed couM yi^ 'T l""'-^'"' '^"^'-^ "^^^" I did not th?nk he could leave his business. And now that he is here, instead iTsl^Tne-S.'.^ ^'^ ^^"' ^ ^"--^ ^^ p-^^^ -d y- - " Quite," said Miss Durham, coolly. " Not so with him. If he knew how to obtain your for- giveness he would do that thing. Is there no way L which you can be satisfied ? " way m wnicn *^ Oh, yes, by obtaining satisfaction." ou f?u ^""^^"^ '''^ ^^^- The handsome face was much s entVor:" Th^ ^^^^--f -^ --" in it she ha" Tver seen betore The dark eyebrows were drawn together, form- "pfendidTyes!' *^^^^*^"'"^ ^^ — her facf abo;e h"r ,," When a man has offended another he that is iniured calls out the offender, and there is an exchange of pistoXts me and /J ""^°"\^ho belonged to me, an^e to stand by me and defend my character, I would send him with a chal !re^ti?/^:^5_.h-hand, and they would fight the matter on Ihl n^^wr^-A "y 'S^ ''^^^V^' °' ^^^^^"^''^ she laughed. " on nnr ^ u ^"i^^^' ?"f ^" ^ ^ave neither father, nir brother nor husband, I must fight for my own honour, o^ " ^ " Or what. Miss Durham ? " " Or run away." 302 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. Both were silent ; presently Salome laughed a little nerv- ously, and said, " But you never fight ? no woman fights. " Does she not ? " "Not with pistols." •• Perhaps not." " Nor with swords." " Oh, no." ♦' Then— with what ? " " With her proper weapons." "You may be quite sure my husband would throw down his arms and yield at discretion." " I have little doubt." , , j u Salome closed the box on which Miss Durham had been engaged, and seated herself upon it. Then she looked up with childlike entreaty into her friend's face, and said : " I will not allow you to go. We had schemed to have such pleasant excursions together. We have been so happy since we have known each other, and— I have not yet had the delight of showing you my baby— my best treasure." " You will not let me run away ? " " No, no ! You will forget this little affair ; it was nothing. Come and be with us again. My husband is a great reader, and knows a great deal about things of which I am ignorant, and you have travelled and seen so much that your society will interest him immensely. Oh, do stay, do not go away. The American went to the window, leaned both her arms folded on it, and looked out. She could see into the garden, and she observed Philip there, standing before the eagle cage. He had a little twig in his hand, and he was thrusting it between the bars at the bird. She turned and said to Salome, " No, I will go. There are several reasons which urge me to go. The insult which I received from your husband for one —and already he had allowed me to see that he disliked and despised me " t , j •^>. i.^ " No, indeed," interrupted Salome. " I had written to him in all my letters about you, and— perhaps he was a little jealous of you." " Jealous of m« ? " , __ j u " It is a fancy of mine." Salome lowereu iier eyes. " O ! you fresh, you green dear ! " laughed Miss Durham. *' Do you know what jealousy is ? " " By experience ? No." ,1-. j u " Come," said the American girl, seating herself beside her j.'T •-^ OBER ALP. 303 J nerv- ts." down d been ked up o have > happy had the lothing. reader, jnorant, society away." ler arms garden, ;le cage, isting it Salome, ^e me to i for one ked and ritten to .s a Httle Durham, eside her I on the same box, still with folded arms, resting now on her f^' ■ "p^"^^ ' Supposmg that I, instead of being hated and despised by your husband, were admired and loved by him. Would you not be madl> jealous then ? " Salome looked round at her without flinching. ** Admire you he might, but love you " " More than he lo\ed yon.'' " He could not do it." The girl burst into a mocking laugh. " What, you also hold me cheap, thmk there is nothing in me beside you— beside you— to love ? " " On the contrary," answered Salome, crimsoning to the roots of her hair, "I am nothing, nothing at all; ignorant, loohsh, fresh, and green, as you say— and you are so beautiful so clever, so experienced. I am nothing whatever in com- parison with you ; but then Philip, I mean my husband, you know, could not love you more than me, because I am his wife." " Oh ! " There was a depth of mockery in the tone. Then up stood Miss Durham again, and as Salome also rose, the stranger seized her by the shoulders, and held her at arm s length from her, and said, " Shall I go, or shall I stay? bnall 1 run away, or " " You shall not" run away. I will clasp you in my arms and stay you,' exclaimed Salome, and suited the action to the word. Miss Durham loosed herself from her almost roughly, " It were better for both that I should go." Again she went to the window to gasp for air. She saw Philip still be- fore the eagle cage- straight, stiff, and every inch a mercan- tile man. Her lip curled. " I will go," she said. Then she saw iJeaple Yeo stalk across the terrace. " No "—she cor- rected herself hastily—" I will stay." CHAPTER XLV. OBER ALP. \ FTER Philip had looked sufficiently lon'^ at thf" ca^-ed r\ eagle he went in search of the Cap"tain,\n"d found^hrm smoking in the verandah of the hotel. u '' La""^!'^'" ^^^^ ^^' "there's a deal of fuss being made about this American lady, but who is she ? " J 5 ' I 304 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. [>l '■: INi " Comes from Chicago," answered the Captain. " I know that, but I want to know something more con- cerning her." J , 1 • The Captain shrugged his shoulders. " She s good-lookmg, deucedly so." ,, ,x j • '« That, also, I can see for myself. Have you made no m- quiries about her ? "I? Why should I?" Philip called the head waiter to him. •• Here. Who is this American lady ? " "Oh, from Chicago." t j - " Exactly, the visitors' book says as much. I don t see how she can be rich, she has no lady's maid." " Oh, saire ! De American leddies aire ver' ind'pendent. There was nothing to be learnt from anyone about Miss Durham. He applied to the squeaky-voiced Chaplain with the military moustache. , , » • .. •♦ She may belong to the Episcopal Church of America, said the Chaplain, " but I don't know." Some of the waiters had seen her elsewhere, at other sum- mer resorts, always well dressed. Philip, after he had spent half an hour in inquiries, discovered that no one knew more about her than himself. He had heard nothing to her disad- vantage, but also nothing to her advantage. He might just as well have spared himself the trouble of asking. At tabU d'hote, Miss Durham sat at the long table. Salome was disappointed. She thought that she had succeeded in completely patching up the difference. Philip was indifferent. Tust as well that she should be elsewhere. She was an occasion of dissension, a comet that threw all the planetary world in his system out of fiheir perihelion. He made no bones about saying so much. Salome looked sadly at him, when Colonel Yeo took his seat beside Miss Durham, and entered into ready converse with her. She could not take her attention off her friend ; she was uneasy for her, afraid what advantage the crafty Colonel might take of her inexperience. But it was noi long before Philip heartily wished that Miss Durham had been in her place in their circle, for conversation flagged without her, or ceased to be general and disintegrated into whisperings between the girls Labarte, and confidences between Janet an^i Lambert. Salome was silent, and Mrs. Sidebottom engrossed in what she was eating. Philip spoke about politics, and found no listeners ; he asked about the excursions to be made I OBER ALP. 305 (re con- looking, e no in- on't see indent." ut Miss ain with nerica," ler sum- id spent w more ;r disad- ght just Salome jeded in iifferent. occasion world in 3S about Colonel to ready n off her tage the was noi; had been without isperings aiit-i. ait.i\j. ngrossed tics, and be made from Andermatt, and was referred to the guide-book ; he tried a joke, but it fell dead. Finally he became silent as his wife and aunt, with a glum expression on his inflexible face, and found himself, as well as Salome, looking down the long table at Miss Durham. The young lady was evidently enjoying an animated and interesting conversation with Colonel Yeo, whose face became blotched as he went into fits of laughter. She was telling some droll anecdote, making some satirical remark. Philip caught the eye of Yeo turned on him, and then the Colonel put his napkin to his mouth and exploded. Philip's back became stiff. It offended him to the marrow of his spine, through every articulation of that spinal column, to suppose himself a topic for jest, a butt of satire. He reddened to his temples, and finding that he had seated himself on the skirts of his coat, stood up, divided them, and sat down again, pulled up his collars, and asked how many more courses they were required to eat. " Oh ! we have come to the chicken and salad, and that IS always the last," said Salome. " I am glad to hear it. I never less enjoyed a meal before —not even—" he remembered the dinner alone at Mergatroyd, with the parlour-maid behind his back observing his mole. He did not finish his sentence; he did not consider it judicious to let his wife know how much he had missed her. It was not pleasant to be<at enmity with a person who by jibe and joke could make him seem ridiculous, even in such eyes as those of Beaple Yeo. It would be advisable to come to an agreement, a truce, if not a permanent peace witli this woman. Presently Philip rose and walked down the salle. Several of those who had dined were gone, some remained shelling almonds, picking out the least uninteresting of the sugar- topped biscuits and make-believe maccaroons, that consti- tuted dessert. He stepped up to Miss Durham, and said, with an effort to be amiable and courteous : " We are medi- tating a ramble this afternoon, Miss Durham, to some lake not very distant ; and I am exponent of the unanimous senti- ment of our table, when I say that the excursion will lose Its mam charm unless you will afford us the pleasure of vour "society." He had been followed by the Labarte girls, and they now put m their voices, and then Mrs. Sidebottom joined • she came to back up the request. It was not possible for the ' ft im\ 306 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. American girl to refuse. The Captain and Janet had not united in the request, for they had attention for none but each other, and Salome had not risen and united in the fugue, for a reason unaccountable to herself — a sudden doubt whether she had acted wisely in pressing the lady to stay after she had resolved to go ; and yet— she could give to her- self no grounds for this doubt. A couple of hours later the party left the hotel. It wa.s thought advisable that Janet should be taken to the summit of the pass in a small low carriage ; she could walk home easily down hill. To the carriage was harnessed an un- groomed chestnut cob, that had a white or straw-colored tail, and like coloured patches of hair about the hocks. It had the general appearance of having been frost-bitten in early youth, or fed on stimulants which had interfered with its growth, and deprived it of all after energy. The creature crawled up the long zigzag that leads from Andermatt to the Ober Alp, and the driver walked by its head, ill disposed to encourage it to exertion. The Captain paced by the side of the carriage, equally undesirous that the step should be quickened, for he had no wish to overheat himself — time was made for man, not man for time — and he had an agreeable companion with whom he conversed. Mrs. Sidebottom engaged the Labarte girls, who — incon- siderate creatures— wanted to walk beside their aunt Janet, and take part in the conversation with the Captain. Mrs. Sidebottom particularly wished that her son should be left undisturbed. As an oriental potentate is attended by a slave waving a fan o^ *'eathers to drive away from his august presence the to anting flies, so did the mother act on this occasion for her son — she fanned away the obtrusive Labarte girls. When she found that they were within earshot of the carriage, " No," said she, " I am sure this is a short cut across the sward. You are young, and I am no longer quite a girl. Let us see whether you by taking the steep cross cut, or I, by walking at a good pace along the road, w'll reach that crucifix first." By this ruse she got the three girls well ahead of the conveyance. But Claudine found a patch of blue gentianella, and wanted to dig the bunch up. '* No, - ■ - Tv/T — \j, duviacvi return homewards ; then you will not have the roots to carry so far, and the flowers will be less faded." There was reason in this advice, and Claudine followed it. r'our OBER ALP. 307 i Presently Amdie, the second, exclaimed, " But we are just in advance of Aunt Janet. Let us stay for her." •* Yes, we will," agreed Fdicite, the third ; " Claudine can go on with Madame." "We will all stay," said Mrs. Sidebottom. " Now, Am6lie, I have seen your sketches, and you have your book with you. Is not that a superb view up the gorge, to the right ? I do not know the name of the mountain at the head. What a picture it would make ! And finished off with the spirit you throw into a drawing ! See, there is a chalet and some goats for foreground." •' Cest vrai ! I will draw it." So Amdie sat on a rock and got out her materials, and the sisters sat by her talking and advising what was to be left in and what left out of the sketch. Meanwhile the conveyance containing Janet crawled by. The picture was still incomplete, and the little party was thrown a long way in the rear by this detention. To anyone observing the zigzag road up the Ober Alp Pass from a distance, the party would not have been supposed to possess homogeneity. At starting it was led by three— Phihp, Salome, and the American lady ; but after the first stage of the ascent Salome fell back, then, little by little the other two quickened their pace till they had completely distanced the rest. At a lower stage of the inclined road, ascending at even pace, was Salome, alone. At about an equal distance below, on another stage of the zigzag, was the carriage with Janet and the Captain, and the driver, of whom no account was taken ; and sometimes ahead of the carriage, sometimes behind, making rushes, then halts, like a covey of doves followed by a hawk, was the little cluster of girls with Mrs. Sidebottom. From a distance at one moment the three girls seemed to be flying before the elder lady armed with a parasol, which she swung about her head ; then they seemed to cower on the ground into the herbage as birds beneath a swooping falcon. The reason why Salome was alone must be given. Before starting on the excursion, Philip said to his wife, " Let me have a minute alone with that person, I'll make some sort of apology, and set all to rights." Accordingly Salome had dropped back where the road made its first twist. But this does not explain why she lemained alone for more than the minute. That this may 308 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. iil» :i an object of my indiscre- very uncom- be understood, it will be necessary to follow the conversation that passed between Philip and " that person." •' My wife has found a pink," said Philip ; '♦ she is fond of flowers." Then, as Miss Durham said nothing, he added, " I afforded you some amusement at dinner." " Amusement ? " • •' Apparently. It is not pleasure to be criticism. If you desired to punish me for tion, you must be satisfied. You made me fortable." " Amusement ! Oh ! do you mean when Colonel Yeo laughed and looked at you ? I saw you turn red." " Enough to make a man turn red, when aimed at by the bow and arrow of female lips and tongue." " You are quite mistaken," said Miss Durham, laughing. •' I was not shooting any poisoned arrow. Do you desire to know what I said ? " " Interest me, it must, as I was the object of the arrow, even if tipped with honey." " Very well, you shall know. I had seen you looking at the eagle in his cage. And I said to Colonel Yeo that the . eagle reminded me of you." Philip winced. He remembered his own estimate of that wretched bird. " And pray," said he, " why am I like the eagle ? " " Because both are in situations for which neither was designed by nature. Do you suppose the eagle looks the draggled, disconsolate bird he does now, when on wing soar- ing over the glaciers ? Were his wings made that they might droop and drop their crushed feathers ? That stern eye, that it should stare at iron bars, at inquisitive faces peering between them ? Now, come, be open ; make me your con- fessor. Have you never had yearnings for something nobler, freer, than to be behind the bars of a counting-house, and condemned to the perpetual routine of business, like the mill of a squirrel's cage ? " Philip considered. Yes, he had wished for a less mono- tonous life. He had often desired to be able to hunt and shoot, and move in cultivated society, tour in Europe, and have leisure to extend his thoughts to other matters than the details of a lawyer's office or a manufacturer's set of books. " Your time is all barred," continued Miss Durham, '• and the music of your life must be in common time. No elas> OBER ALP. 30» ;^ersation ! is fond e added, )bject of indiscre- uncom- )nel Yeo it by the aughing. desire to e arrow, oking at that the e of that her was Doks the ig soar- ;y might sye, that peering )ur con- f nobler, use, and the mill s mono- unt and )pe, and han the )Ooks. Q, " and No elas- ticity, no initiative, all is barred and measured. Tell me something about yourself." " I ! " This was a daring question to address to one so reserved as Philip. " I have had nothing occur in my life that could interest you." '* Because it has been spent in a cage. I know it has. I can see the gaol look in your face, in your back, in the way you wear your hair, in your coat, in your every action, and look, and tone of voice." " This is not complimentary." " It is true. But you were not made to be a gaol-bird. No one is ; only some get caught early and are put behind bars, and see the world, and know it, only through bars ; the wind blows in on them only between bars, and the sun is cut and chopped up to them by bars and cross-bars, and all they know of the herbs and flowers are the scraps of chickweed and plantain, drooping and dying, that are suspended to their cage bars for them to peck at. I know exactly what they come to look like who have been encaged all their hves ; they get bald on the poll and stiff in their movements, and set in their back, and dull of eye, and narrow of mind." " You— have you not been a cage-bird ? " asked Philip, with some animation. "Oh, no, not I. I have kept outside the bars. I have been too fond of my liberty to venture behind them." "What do you mean by bars ? " asked Philip, with some gravity in his tone. " Bars ? There are bars of all sorts— social, religious, conventional— but there! I shock you; you have lived so long behind them that you think the bars form the circum- ference of the world, and that existence is impossible, or improper, outside of them." " Beyond some none are at hberty to step. Thev are essential." j f j "I am not talking of natural, but of artificial restraints which cramp life. Have you any Bohemian blood in vou ? " " Bohemian ! " " Wild blood. I have. I confess it. A drop, a little drop, of fierv African blood. Yon in RnalanH Viav^ iro"*- '^'q«='' distinctions, but they are as nothing beside our American separations between white and black. With you a blot on the escutcheon by a misalliance is nothing ; with us it is ineradicable. There is a bar-sinister cast over my shield and ^10 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. shutting me out from the esteem of and association with those whose blood is pure. Pure! It may be muddied with the mixture of villainous blood enough — of swindlers and rene- gades from justice, but that counts nothing. One little drop, an eighth part of a drop, damns me. I do not care. I thank that spot of taint. It has liberated me from conventional bonds, and I can live as I like, and see the sun eye to eye without intervening bars." Philip had winced when she spoke about the co-existence of pure blood with that of swindlers and renegades. He stopped and looked back. They had been walking fast, though up-hill. When talkers are excited and mterested in what they say, they naturally quicken their pace. They had far outstripped Salome ; as Philip looked back he could not see her, for the ground fell away steeply and concealed the several folds of the road. ♦•What?" asked Miss Durham, mockingly, " looking for one of your bars ?" Philip turned and walked on with her. They had reached the summit, and the ground before them was level. On this track of level mossy moor lay the lake of deep crystal water, in which floated masses of snow or ice, that had slidden from the mountain on the opposite side. Hardly a tree grew here, on this neck, exposed to furious currents of wind. " May I take your arm ? " asked Miss Durham. " I am heated and tired with this long climb." Philip offered her the support she demanded. " I suppose," she said, " that you have not associated much with any but those who are cage birds ? " He shook his head and coloured slightly. "Do you know what I am?" she asked abruptly, and turned and looked at him, loosing her hand from his arm. "I have heard that you are a lady with a large inde- pendent fortune." " It is not true. I earn my living. I am a singer." She saw the surprise in his face, which he struggled to conceal. "It is so : and I am here in this clear air that my voice may regain its tone. I sing — on the stage." She put her hand through his arm again. " Yes, chained, imprisoned eagle, I am a free singing-bird. What do you say to that ? " I ARTEMUIA. 311 vith those I with the and rene- ittle drop, I thank iventional ;ye to eye -existence ides. He . When say, they itstripped ir, for the il folds of loking for d reached On this tal water, Iden from rew here, I. •• I am issociated ptly, and arm. rge inde- r." uggled to my voice jing-bird. What could he say ? He was astonished, excited, be- wildered. He felt the intoxication which falls on an evan- gelical preacher when he mounts the platform to preach in a niiusic hall. He was frightened and pleased ; his decorum shaken to its foundation, apd cracking on all sides. •• What do vou say to this ? " she asked, and looked full in his eyes, and her splendid orbs shot light and fire into his heart, and sent the fl»mes leaping through his veins. He heaved a long breath. '• Yes,'" she said, •♦ you suffocate behind bars." Then she burst into a merry peal of laughter, and Philip, involuntarily laughed also, but not heartily. urjy] CHAPTER XLVI. ARTEMISIA. HERE is the restaurant," said Miss Durham, "and being painted within and without, impossible for us to- enter. What say you to walking on to the head of the lake ? 1 wa^t to look over the col, and see the mountains of the Rhme valley above Dissentis." Philip hesitated, and again looked back. " I see," said Miss Durham ; "you are afraid of stepping out of your cage." ^ "Not at all " answered Philip, flushing. " I am prepared to go to the end of this trough in the mountains with you, but 1 greatly doubt seeing much from the further end." " Well— if we see nothing, we can talk. Have you looked about you much since we began the ascent ? " " The time has flown," said Philip, looking at his wr h. " It seems to me but a few minutes since." The long dreary valley or basin in which lay the lake was apparently closed at the end by a hill surmounted by a cross or flagstaff. The road ran along the north side of the lake, with a tree to shade it. The party behind, when they came to the restaurant, could not fail to see them if they continued along the road and might follow, or await them there. X nuip w-alkcd ou, but no longer gave Artemisia Durham . arm. He saw far away in the rear Mrs. Sidebottom signalling with her parasol ; but whether to him, or to the Labarte girls who were dispersed in the morass at the enc" of 312 THE PKNNYCUMEQUICKS. the lake, picking butterwort soldanella, and primula, he could not tell. His eyes were ofi the ground. He was thinking of his companion, what a strange life hers must be, incomprehensi- ble to him. He felt how, if he were thrown into it, he would not know how to strike out and hold his chin above water. At the same time his heart beat fast with a wild vain desire for a freer life than that of commerce. The restraints to which he had been subjected had com- pressed and shaped him, as the Chinese lady's shoe compresses and shapes her foot— but the pressure had been painful ; it had marked him, but the marks were ever sensitive. The ancient robe of the Carmelite fathers was of white wool barred with black, and they pretended that they derived this habit from the mantle of Elijah, which he had dropped as he was being carried up to heaven, and the mantle had touched as It fell the spokes of the chariot ot fiie in which he ascended, and was scorched in stripes. Philip, and many another suc- cessful man of business who had .)een exalted to a position of corntort and warmth, has the inner garment of his soul scarred by the wheels of the chariot in which he has mounted. Phibp felt his own awkwardness, his want of ease in other society than that narrow circle in which he had turned, his inability to move with that freedom and confidence which characterises those born and reared in generous society. Even with this girl— this Bohemian— he was as one walking and talking with chains to his feet and a gag to his tongue. She whs right ; he was born to be at ease everywhere, to be able everywhere to walk upright, and to look around him ; he had beeri put in a cramping position, tied hand and foot, and his head set in such a vice as photographers employ to give what they consider support and steadiness, and he was distort'^d stiflened, contracted. Had his life been happy? He had never accounted it so— it had been formal at the solicitor's desk, and it was formal in the factory. Was man made and launched into life to be a piece of clockwork? He had thought, acted, lived an automaton life, and taken his pleasure in measuring glasses, never in full and free draughts. " Have you had a happy existence.? " he asked thought- " Oh I yes, the birds are happy ; all nature is happy so long as It is free. It is in the cage that the bird mopesVand in the pot that the plant sickens." ARTEMIHIA. did a, he could cing of his nprehensi- , he would ove water. ain desire had com- onipresses )ainful ; it lye. The hite wool •rived this >ped as he d touched ascended, other suc- vosition of ul scarred d. Philip er society I inability raclerises with this i talking, She Whs ) be ahie ; ; he had t, and his ?ive what distorted. He had solicitor's nade and He had pleasure • thought- happy so )pes, and Had Phihp looked in her face he would have seen a strange expression of triumph pass over it. She had carried her first point and gained his interest. •; Here," she said, "is a larg^ rock above the water; let us sit on It and I will tell you about myself You had no confidence in me and would not give me your story. I will return good for evil and show you my past I agree with you, there will be no view of the mountains above Dissentis from the col. It is not worth our while going on. Besides I am tired." She took a seat on a broad boulder that had fallen from the mountains, and hung fast, wedged on one side, disengaged on the other, over the crystal water that,stiued by the light wind, lapped its supports. Looking into tiv'^ clear flood beneath, they could see the char darting abouf, enjoying the ^V-\}:f'' penetrated the water and made it to them an element fi diliui,!. d light. Arter'.sia pointed to them, and said, "Who would not iwither be one of these than a goldfish in a glass bott r ? " "iiilip at once recalled the pond at Mergatrovd, . :th the hot water spurted into it from the engine, in which the gold- fish teemed, and ihe globes in every cottage window supplied with the unfortunate captives from this pond, swivnming round and round all day, all night, every year, seeing nothing novel, without an interest, a zest in life. Such had his career been ; he a fish— not a gold one, nor even a silver one till recently, but quite a common brown fish— in a common glass re- ceiver full of Steele water, renewed periodically, but always flat. He looked at the darting char with interest. '• We are in the land of freedom," said Miss Durham. ♦• Then don't stand on the rock like a semaphore. Sit down beside me, and let your feet dangle over the water. Oh ' as Pohxenes says, • to be boy eternal ! '" " • With such a day to'-morrow as to-day,' added Philip, completing the quotation, as he seated himself on the rock. How wonderfully brilliant the sun was at that height ' So utterly unlike the rusty ball that gave light at Mergatrovd, and there gave it charily. How intense the blue of the sky- dark as the deep-belled gentian, not the washed-out cobalt of --■- ^.-i=5ii=« iicavcii ixiiu me air was iresii ; it made the heart dance and the pulse throb faster, with a trip and a fandango such as the blood never attains in our grey and sober land. ^ 314 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. t At a few hundred yards' distance was a road-mender ^onliLFf^T'^'^/r^ '""'b ^"P^^""^ ^ t^^^k made by a l^A.u ^^^ ^??^^ ^'"""^ *^^ ^l^ff^ al'ove, torn up the road, and then plunged into the lake. Far behind could be seen Mrs. Sidebottom flourishing her parasol, and gathermg ?he rest of the disconnected party together before the restau^rant It was clear that she had decided they were not to so the iSe Hirr^'. "' ""T Z^ '^' '''^''' ^" *h^ °P- -ir be^ii: return ^ ^'^^ °^ *^^ advanced party to Had they been seen ? Philip asked himself. Where he f^^Jti ?'^'^ """T '^*; *^^y ^^'"^ screened from observation aZit'Z'X ' ^'' '"" ''' road-mender who was •' I am not quite sure," said Philip, and he fidgeted with his fingers as he said it. - I think I ought *o be going bick to tne party— to my aunt." " ^ " To your wife, you mean. Why not say so ? No • von fhte"lfyV^.^^^ ''' ^^^"^ ^'' '^^' '^^^" ^"-"^'- lZZZrT% *^l^^^' of Lucerne you saw Rutli, the skcred spot where the three confederates swore to shake off the glory of Switzerland now. Let this be Rutli. Break those conventiona bonds that have tied you, and as a pledge remain seated and hsten to me. Remember what I have t!ld you-!^ adW ° ^'^^ ^°" ^ ^^^^ '''*° ""^ P^'* ^^^^' ^"d have your Philip made no more objection, but he plucked httle scraps of sedum that grew on the stone, and threw them nto the water. Presently fish came to snap at them, and turned away in disgust, leaving them, when they saw they were not nies nor worms. ^ fh.f ^\'^''^^^'" '^'^ P" Durham, "was a German- Is En ^^7 qi?''' 'P^^^ the language with as much ease as Lnghsh. She was married to my father shortly after her arrival in America, and she never acquired the EnS ongue perfectly; she always spoke it with an accent and imunauon mat was ioreign. But, though she did not acquire perfec ly the language of the country^f her adoption? she assiuiilated its prejudices pretty easily, and held them with >d-mender» Tiade by a 3 the road, Id be seen hering the estaurant. not to go air beside ! party to Where he jservation who was ^eted with oing back No; you , and I — h Philip's isia ; " as he sacred e off the om is the !ak those :e remain »ld you — ave your :ed little hem into d turned were not erman — ich ease tly after English ent and acquire ion, she em with ARTEMISIA. 315 Dre uhI.T ^ "^^ •''n ^^^^^^^terises, in my experience, acquired hlT.lT^^^^fT^^y^l'^'' unreasonable. My father had in thon^H. ^P/k°^ ^?Pu' °^ ^^""^ ^^°°^' ^"d although my mother o re!ard"?f A"^ °^ '^^',^?"" '^^ *°^^ *^^"^' '^^ Wily came she hetttL ^-^ '""^f^^f stain. She threw it in his teeth, wi?h thi 1 ' 'i'-,5"? "^^^^ ^ ^^s b°^" did not regard me The conHnn'.f '^'^^ ^' ^ "^^* *° ^^^^* ^^"^ its mother. DarentripH fi'^^Yu!^^ ?"^ ^'°^^"S^ antipathy between my Tbe'lve^c tlT^'l" *° '^''' separation. My father left, and 1 believe is dead ; I never saw him after they parted. He S H ""^'T^^ ^^^^"- ^ d° "°* k"ow, but I believe he is wlnm T ""^u^ 5° enquiries after me and my mother, to rndTer„rH' ^ ^"k ^'" ^"^ ^ '^"P^^^^^ ' ^^e looked about for, W ,n . f . °*^^^l^ ^/'"^ ""^^^^^^ P^"^*"^^' a German, work- thfrl .tf ^'^y; ^^^^ ^^^ "^^^d^«"' fair-haired, moon-faced, nf .11 T~vf "J^ "^^^ .^^°"^ ^"'^ds* t^^'"' the drudge or enemy vonnLi VM ^ ^"""^ '°*^^' ^"d I was made nurse to the Hh^T tk'^'I;!' ^"^ *°,"^"^ th^"^ I ^^« accustomed to sing 1 liked best of all my half-brothers and sisters. It was a great anTZnC' '° "' '°>"r '^^^^^ b^"ds. or Italians with organs monev m.T'.^^^'^ni^J'^" ^^ "^^ ^^^ that these obtained money my brother Thomas and I agreed together that we tTon of*? r ^^'^- ^"" ^^y~'' ^^s the day of the DeclarT in?fK ^"dependence, when every one was out and all enjoy- ing themselves-Tom and I went into the most frequented and ^entl^mU"'""' ^"/ ^^^i"" *° ^^"^- ^^^"^^^^ ^^th ladies HrSf,! f^^" Pf l'^"^' ^"d troops of people in their best hiio ; •" &ood humour, and all seeking amusement. We t^htZ ^"'^^' ^""^ "^^'^^ "^^ht was soil es bedeuten,' Tom taking a second. Some Germans at once gathered about us, t^th . r! Jk°PP;^'^ !r'° To"^'" ^^P- Presently a man came up kii^nH 1 '"^ ^.""^.^ ';^°^'"- "^ stood for a long time listen- ri'/ i u T^*^^"* ""^ ^'^'"S "s money he asked where we hTr;^'l .^ ^^ °"' P^'^".*^ ^^'^' ^ told him, and next day nLlTf f"" ^^^ my mother. He was a musician, and he L^Xa°ny Yi,;;:'. "' '^^' **^^^ ^^ "^'^^^ teach me to sing and Philip's face grew grey, and the lines in it hecame H,t'?k^;i .i^^ no longer thirew bits of seduni' at the^fish. clutched the rock with both hands. !! ^"^— what did your mother say ? " he asked, bhe sold me— for seventy-five dollars." iiiOre He ""^niii'JfciVimiiMr 316 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. I fa.. ; P shuddered. He turned and looked in Artemisia's face-to see, perhaps if her story had left its traces theT bhe wanted a hundred dollars, he offered fifty Thev came to terms for seventy.five " icu niry. iney denfh^s^S'fh^ T^'""^' A "/ ^°°^^^ ^^^" ^"t° the bottle-green ^len? also. ' ^""^ ^°' '^""^ moments Artemisia^ was Presently-with a strange, forced voice, Philip asked How old were you when this transaction toik place ? '' ' man and Hp^.^ i,. ^ travelled about with the red-bearded man, and he taught me to smg, trained me well, and at con certs made me smg, and I got great applause. Hiked that I was happier with him than at my mother's I had no hf^ t?d'o "T 'h'°"^^ ^"' ^° ^"^^ ^ "-^ -'^- h;,use'drudg' mfn after ^^fl^^ ^^.S ^^"^' ""^ ^^ ^^« ^" honourabfe man alter his fashion. He treated me as if I were his sZt \^f 'r^ ^T^"^^ P^'"^ *° f^rm me to be a pub Ic s nger. But always the burden of his song was. • See what vou are aTn.^n' 'T^^' ^°" ^^' ^'' Afterw'ards when you are a finished artist, you must be engaged to me for a set a2ns[Xt 7^'^ ""'■ ^°' ""y P^'"^-' ^ h-d not a word and lli H ^ l "^^^ *^"^^^ ^'^^'^^ ^h^t I ^as indebted to him. and I intended to show my gratitude by doing as he reauired m'e oT;trea';er"^.H''°"^ ^'''' ^•"^' '"^ hrnevrXwed me to be treated with impertinence by any man • he alwav^ On cT n'c'ahfor""^' "^^ ^^"^^^ ^" '^^ mo'stTriic mann/r and I s"n2^ /t f V'"' T" P^'l'^'^^^S^ he with his fiddle, ber.rntS ^' ,^ ^''i''°' ''^'^' ^^en a half tipsy gold-digger We th. ^^"'''^^^^.u^l*^"''^^ t° "^^- My master^ madf me Franc sc7^'t' Tm v'""' .^"^ ^" ^^" ^^^^ ^^^^ me to San r rancisco. 1 asked him why ? He sairl h^ mi,cf r>« fv,^* shoot or be shot by that fello^, and hrhad'no'wthtr'eftLr IbouTmt-^' '"''"^' ' "°"^' ^^^^ "^^^ t° -- th"m fighi •' How long did you remain with this man ' " thin/be terTn^l"'"' ^"^ '^""' J"^* ^^ ^ ^^« ^^ fo'" ^ome- owTgam ' ' '^'" ""^'^ "'°"^>^' "^y "^^^^^^ spoiled his "How so?" •' He v/anted to marry me. I rprknn v.^ fV,«„«i,* u u rndteWn'fh "" ^''/'"'this, I would have stayed with S and let h.m have a share-a lion's share-of tny earnings ; but ■ rtemisia's there, y. They ttle-green tiisia was p asked, e ? " -bearded i at con- ked that. had no e drudg- nourable ivere his a public >ee what s, when for a set a word to him, equired. allowed always nanner. 3 fiddle, l-digger ide me to San that, or either. n fight ' some- iled his ^ — ^..ij d him- h him s; but ARTEMISIA. 317 he would not leave me in peace-he spoiled his own game bv that, and set me free. I left him." ^ ^ " And then ? " ,•« r ^^- ^,*^^ve been independent since then. ! have sune ^o a'out wher".'/ ^T Tl ^''^ "^°^^ ^"^^"^ '" GermanT? go about where I will. I have no master, I earn enough to thelelsTdV^Vhis •: °P7n "^r !?.^° '^ ^^^ --" -n or tne seaside This is a dull spot, and I would not have made so long a stay m it had it not been that I was ordered to thp elevated air here, because I had suffered from a reL^^^^^^^ Philip was watching her face, and feeling as if he received a shot in his heart every time she turned her splendid full "TveTsinS^' n ^f.^"' ^""'tu '""TS^^^ ^' they held the stone l:.ver s nee I left my /ed-bearded master I have been alon^ -alone m this world ; I have had no one to Xm to cW tTesri on:'''? '° go for advice in times of douS and dit tress. Alone— do you know what it is to be alone ? " Yes, said Philip ; he let sink his head on his breast and looked down into the water. He also had spent a lonelv youth but in what opposite circumstances. ^ ^ I " A fu " ^^""^ "° '^^^^'" she continued, " how I have uSImlr'l^ '^T/ f ^'■''''&' ^°"^^ one-sime one whose judgment I could trust, whose mind was superior who^P experience had been made in just those departmen s if Hfe to TonM ^ ""^/^^"g^- I have longed for such a one whom ? h? rJfh^''^ '5 " ^"7 ^'^' ^"^"^' ^"d to whom I c^uTd go II trouble and perplexity. But I have no one! For all these years I have been as much alone as the man in the Philip pat his hand to his collar. He tried to straiffhten heTuW Ho"^".t'^^ 'TT' ^'"^P-hi^ hands shook s?tha" .nr^^ K^°u"°*^'"^ ^'^^ ^^^"^ ' he was being burnt up con S'to'L'd7£f ^^' ^^^^ °" ^^- ^' ''^ ^p°^^'"^- pre:i!ifg red^ Souif feTih: t^d ^of\^a^-;.^rof many, but just one to hold by ? Do you know what "tt ?n wher"/thlt^ ^""T ''^ u P'^'^'P'^^ ? 'io stand on a spire top Thl AA ^ '^ i^^J ^hyss on every side ? Can you imagine the giddiness the despair that comes over one ? My pTaS is one surrounded by precipices, dangers eveivvviiereri see 318 i' ■' THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. nt'ttz z^:r,i z,'t^-' *° -^ - °- "« be tolTon'a dCpeat•;;\^r,""^e"'^ "''« " ""^t something-a bar even t' »1. '^^ . k*,^"'"'"^' '^ 'here be a below can be gLed i'n n "?.k'''° ''°''- ^^^'' "-e abysses support, the danirs ar^ -^ »npun.ty. Holding to that fea'i^of ill out oTSe^deTpe'S """''"'' ""^'^ '^ "" "o- She let go Philip's hand, and stood up. z^sii,^: -"'- -p^'^- -d "o%s:s?!„:nifLid^L^ ing all «m: '•■ ''"' «'''^''°"°'>'. " y°u have kept us wait- ^.^^ ,^e ^Cgr -^ - -c - - --. ^^^ wist^^;^3tk'5'yT'h„r t^trdi'd't "• ""^^ '°°''^<^ minute treating the Amer r^n io^ uu ^f^^^ean by at one ssYtt ?eT --rhrb^hi^t:-^^^^^^^^^^^ - s- had heard, aidT.he 161," ss °f"?h' ''''°"' "'," ^'"^^ ^e confided her history to h^ P""' ^"■' "''° ''^'^ " What a long way this is, dear," said Philin .. r. an age since we began the descent.'' ^' '* ^*™^ le over, but » her wrist. hat it must F there be a the abysses ng to that is no more a relief it id now, in ihp to his >ad. fi, because belong to er and the ble. The could be t us wait- ham, id of the le looked by at one md rude- bsolutely : tc And- story he who had It seems EDELWEISS. 319 CHAPTER XLVII. EDELWEISS. with what he h»H\ P^ u ^'P- ?'" ""'"^ ™^s occupied witn wBat he had heard. He thought of the coor sirl iolH by her mother; of her rude apprendceship ofTeMsks^e Ws bed Thai ^^"'A^h ^°""S' ;""'="^^- H ' *°Sed in nis Ded. What would become of her ? Could she «anH t\Teatene5 '^hro'"f " 'I'f'' "^^^ ^^^' ^^ -t" -tet^f' threatened, throw herself over ? What could be done for ^vic!^^ ^^u ^P°^^" °^ *^^ freedom of her life as giving zest to 'hTglTand'srh^!? 'r^'r l"^yP^"' '' hid pined on wi?}f niht K . . ^^"^ P"* "P ^^"^ h^"ds, pleading to be fitted with light but strong manacles. What a contrast was to Hp found between his life and hers ! He had been camDed and Vle^^y ''vrrtu".^'' restrictions ; she had enjoy'edTnTcesro'f l.Derty. Virtue, says Aristotle, is to be found in a hannv f^ldn^s^'oThfr " -'■r-jy' but the plenitude and m^^? loldness of life can only unfurl itself in a happy medium ™d":vThad b^^^^^^^^ ^"' 'T'l^'^' restric?£'n ^^hl}^ oih! a"f ever had been conscious that his abilities had not been ~ed anTfv'^A ^" '^' ^^^^^^ into which he had Len caoabiHtivAf ^'a ^"J^^^an girl, with doubtless splendid capabilities of mind and heart, had allowed them to . un riot When shnLd^h^' fragrance in untutored independence wnen she fixed her great dark eyes on him what -i thrill passed through him ! and when she^ook his hand fire ran un his veins and broke into a blaze in his heart "^ What could he do for her ? How was it possible for him had mfd.^? • '° ^' ^° ^^^ ^^^ "^- ^"-d sheTs red If h^ another mat7.r3"''"*M'?'^^ T"^^ ^^^ ^^ ^°"^d have been another matter, he would have thrown himself at her ff^i^t ?u?d? p°rotm^; 1„?,°f " Vf <^ ^^■'^'^.'"=' "'^■'' him /f^ s: etcrr,?w"h:v"e 'r rihitT ^L^^it^'t ^i^ -f ■ -^^ makeup what each lack.d."" xlen what'"" ;rfre;ent"sorT o°f We h,s would have been 1 His present ., rde of "v °ence one hid h"' °"'^ ^'^'7 '■; q-^'i'y 'o that he hadU before one had been a sordid drudgery, the present was a .■; ded drud- T |.; I ?| 1^ 320 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. gery. The difference was in the adjective that qualified, not in the substance of which the stuff of hisJife was madeup He had now to devote the same attention to figures and techni tat were forl't '^^'•^°'■'• ^^^ ^^"^^^' ?echnicamies de- tails were formerly relative to conveyancing, they now con- cerned linen manufacture. Such arquruntfnre/a" he had formed at Nottingham had not been irir. sted in mm h hevond ^;^. M "^ V"^ '^^ acquaintance, h. had forn^:? af K- gatroyd had their interests concenlut.d on ifieir ^-Hness Art. literature, science had been to those hJ^kn^w ar nSI id'eTs '"tr T '° *^?K^ ^^ -^""^ ^* Mergatroyd! names nft such a ro^W t7°'^^ "' ''"^ ^" '^"^ surroundings, tied to such a routine? it is sa;'i fnatman as he <rets older fossilizes he:rraTdlrat';n',W^'"l5^^^" ''''''^'' veins, ie^^elfof neart and brain, til! like funed Avat^rpipes and crusied boilers ^'s'^c^nd "mnl°H"^%.' > ' ^^' ^'' "°^ ^^^ ^'^^ to wlich h" Tr; m th ' : "^l^^ »ts "monotony , its constraint, its isolation Pv"n I. '.rlt^ ^"telifctual hfe-a mechanising of man? k^p knew 1^.at hewas losing, had lost, much of L inSvki- h^ ■ ;.Th^'^' ^ ^ '^^ spontaneity that had been lodgecT hi m^hSe ^i;' M^'' '"^ ^"' ^""^^^"^ "^°^^ ^"d more into a thowht nf^ 1 spinning jennie« and steam looms. He of o dinarv ff^ ^ w ^\^ '^" "^"^^> '^^^' ^^^^^^^ ^^e round oi o. dmary hte ? Was she not an ennobled, sweeter lodffin^- 5fd"nnf ''T' 1 ^^' ^^^ '^^^^ ^^" educated, but her mhfd did not naturally soar into the ideal world. It went up ^as modically like the grasshoppers, a little way. and wa^s'down anx ouftor^" u'^'^^^y- ^^' ^^^ interested in her baby! anxious to have her house neat, the cobwebs all away the he serv^nt?r .?^'''' "i!^ '^' *°^^^^ "^^^^ed and numbVed! the servants in thorough activity, the quotients for the cake voted'' toteffl"'""",' ^" r^^^^' "°^ ^' --^ She was de Lrtainlvfhl rn,f^f~^' recollected the hyacinths, and certainly they had filled nis room with fragrance and aAtici- ^1 T^^^^'P""^- ^"* ^'^ had sent her to sleep bv read iW aloud Addison's '« Spectator," and when hrtrLd" Shake anraccentdTh' L'^* f'^ '^1"° 1"^^^^^ '"^^ thTcharacters,' What Phi -n T}'^'- i^**"^' *^^" '^^^^^ °" *h^"^- m.f Qoi ' ^h'hP^^s^fed With a tremor, what if he had never met Salome, and ha H m«f A^f^^;„;_ :i ^ni . : . . never have been Itrans-poned on' strong "win.a oTt oTfhe woriH'"'J common-place, and the sound of com "! . °alk and thl^ fr r, atmosphere of vulgar interests, into . :. joTwh"ere tToulS '1. t fied, not in ie up. He md techni- alities, de- now con- li he had ch beyond rd at Mer- bysiness. t Notting- anies, not gs, tied to fossilizes, vessels of ed boilers which he s isolation of man ? is individ- lodged in 3re into a ms. He he round • lodging- her mind up, spas- ras down er baby, way, the imbered, the cake was de- iths, and d antici- reading " Shake- iracters, I. d never le would ivorld of e murky e would EDELWEISS. 321 ness' twumhrn'' ^^^^ ^^^"•'•^d habits of formality, hisshy- heSed P«c .?'"^i' ^"^ angularity, and become light- hearted, easy and mdependent. In dreams we sometimes imagme ourse ves to be llying ; we rise from thl ground Tnd labour mdefatigably with our arms as wings ; and PhiHp was now dreammg though not asleep, fancyin| that he could wrt a^noth^Ve e'^Sef^' ^"' '/.^" ^^^^ --"tai'n himseFf"' anoiner sphere. He had missed his way n life • he was n^v^r designed to become a piece of clockwork, but to enlov We cun'tn Th'^^^*^ *^""^' ^"/ ^°^^ '' ^^^t' ^"d drink theSged susVectS tte^hr.^- ^!!^ '°'^" ^^'^'''^ ^' hadTot suspected that the blood m his arteries was an effervesciner wine ; he had supposed it very still enervescing What was to be done for Artemisia ? It would be inhu rs^h""^* '^ be reconciled with conscience, to turn awav to cast her off, when she entreated him to be her friend and he n her with counsel. But how could he assist her ? A drown ng, despamng girl cried out for help. Could he suffer her to sink ? Had he not promised her his assistance ? dav '. f^l^''^'^Tl7 ^^te'-^^ined," said Mrs. Sidebottom, next i/'if A Tu '^/^^ ^° to-morrow to the Hospice. I want ?o see It, and the dogs, and the scenery. So I have Ordered carriages and what is more we will stay there a dly or two then, such as like can descend the Val Tremola and Zrh.! hke can climb the Pizzo Centrale." ^'^^"'°^^' ^"^ ^"ch as " I have no objection," answered Salome. •' We m.mf nr.f eave Andermatt till we have been over the pass a^d seen ?he the_^b^eauties or terrors of the further side, ^hat So ^ou sl^ "I shall be glad." He stood up from table. " Where are you going, Philip ? " " To Miss Durham, to invite her to join us." ei^ht OhT>' '^'.? ^''- Sidebottom. " Let me see, we are eight Oh ! , won't matter, one of the girls can sit outsiX hm strange caprice in Salome, she put^heT' hand nn' Phihp's arm, and said, in a low tone " NorPhilfp • no f ' . Phihp looked at her with surprise. Why should she nnf wish the American lady to join^he partylshe wis he, 322 tHE PENNYC0MEQUICK8. friend. She had been so desirous that he and Miss Durham should concluda peace, and now that peace was agreed upon, Salome said, *• Ko ! Phihp, No ! " when he proposed to invite the Chicago gltl to join them. How capricious ! How unrea- sonable Salome was. She forms a wish, he hastens to accord it, and lo ! she hangs back and is dissatisfied. His aunt's favourite expression, " 'iddlestick ends ! " rose to his lips. He was not the man to be turned about by the wayward, tinreasoned fancies of his wife. " Why not ? " he asked. But Salome gave him no answer. She had formed no motiVe in her heart for asking him not to invite Miss Durham ; she had not considered a reason. She reddened to the roots of her hair, but neither gave a reason nor repeated her request. There lingered all that day a little something, a dissonance of m«t>d between Philip and Salome ; neither could account for iti and neither attempted to account for it. He was silent ; he Wandered about the hotel and the grounds with a hope to light on Miss Durham. He did not go into the salle or on th* terrace, into the reading-room, or about the garden search- ing for her. He did not ask the waiters where she was, but ht looked about wherever he went, expecting to see her, and Hrhen he found her not in reading-room or salle, on terrace or in the garden, he felt that the place was uninteresting, and he must perforce go elsewhere. Salome was gentle as usual, spending much time with her baby, showing it to those guests who were so gracious as to notice it, and smiling with pleasure when it was admired ; but she was not herself, not as happy as she had been. Hitherto the only jar to her content was her husband's preju- dice against Artemisia; now tiie jar arose— she did not explain to herself how it arose, but she wished that Philip had not gone so far in his change of sentiment. Yet, with her natural modesty and shrinking from blame-casting, she reproached herself for grudging to her friend that friendship which she had herself invited Philip to bestow. The next day was lovely, with a cloudless sky, and the carriages departed. Some grumbling ensued and had to be resisted, on the part of the drivers, because five persons were crammed into one carriage. Mrs. Sidebottom pointed out that the driver would walk. That was true, was the reply, but not till Hospenthal was reached ; moreover, the horses could not draw more than four up the St. Gotthard road to EDELWEISS. 32a s Durham eed upon, i to invite low unrea- to accord ids ! " rose 3ut by the not ? " he ad formed ivite Miss iddened to r repeated iissonance d account ivas silent ; a hope to salle or on len search- e was, but ie her, and terrace or ng, and he le with her cious as to . admired ; had been, nd's preju- e did not hat PhiUp Yet, with asting, she friendship y, and the had to be rsons were ointed out the reply, the horses ird road to the Hospice. There was still snow over a considerable tract ;. however, at length the difference was overcome by the promise of a small extra payment — two and a half frrincs extra threw such energy into the horses, increased their power of traction, so that they consented for that price to draw five instead of four persons up the ascent from Hospenthal to the Hospice. In one carriage, that in front, sat Mrs. Sidebottom, Janet and the Captain, and one of the girls, the youngest. In the other carriage were Salome and Miss Durham, Philip and the two other Labarte girls. But Philip did not remain long in it ; at the steep ascent above the little picturesque cluster of houses, church and castle that constitute Hospenthal, he got out and walked. The banks were overgrown with the Alpine rhododendron, as flames bursting out of the low olive green bushes, and Phihp hastened to pick bunches for the ladies. By a singular chance the best flowers and those best arranged went to Miss Durham. " See dere ? " said the driver, taking off his hat. " Vot is dat ? Dat is Edelweiss. You shee ? " He held his dirty brown cap to Philip, and showed him a tuft of white flowers as though made out of wool. Philip had never seen the like before. " Are these found here in these mountains ? " "Jawohl! round there. Up high! Shee!" The man pointed with his whip to the rocky heights. " She grow up very high, dat vlower you give to yr r, loaf! " "Loaf!" " Jawohl ! " The man winked, put his hand to his heart.. " To your loaf— shatz ! You undershtand." Phihp flushed dark. He was hot with walking. " Let me have some of that flower. You shall have it back. No, thank you, not your hat." The man pulled the blossoms out from the dirty ribbon that retained them. " Dey is dry. But you should shee when dey fresh." Philip took the little flower^ " Look at these," he said, cannot say the name." Uj ^.'le side of the carriage. • The man calls them — no. I T .1 nave seen it uiicd in the shop windows. It is rare." " Edelweiss means the Noble White flower," said Miss Durham. " It grows far from human habitation, and is much !H~" S24 THE PENNYCOMEQUICKS. " Would you like some ! " asked Philip. •; Very much indeed," answered Artemisia. Then'he' waLTot'' '" ''' '"^ ^°" ^'^" ^^^^ '*'" ^^ «-^- deac^diL'J^f^rf ;j'^' "f"^^^' ^"^ ^'■^- Sidebottom was ^nZi i^ With Claudine Labarte, whom she had persuaded the 'line w?fpirf&" '^'^ ^''- ^^debottom, " we shall be beyond ™:^^^.^°^:iS^r --t make the best oLur Then M.S. Sidebottom fell back to where Philip was and ind slid 'Thr^ ^vf f ^'' '"^^^ "P ^* hi- h^umorously and said, I have a bit of news to tell you. He is ffoin? to ""?; Who ^'^lla^S J .'"^ «" ^-^''^"^ -' °' '^e' cf^^-^le!^ ** But perhaps she will not have him " .u r ^^^^|estick-ends ! Of course she will. Don't vou see hat she hkes him, and has been drawing him on " Besides I have sounder her The only difficnlty is about ''.lome '' " How can she be a difficulty ? " " Oh, she may think it too soon for them to se\ carried when Mrs. Cusworth died so recently." ^ 11 I^IJ\ r^^^.^^^' postpone the marriage. iron ,^ hot Th! " %T'''- "°^- ^^^^^^^ ^^^^^ -»^ -^ ^he iron is hot. That is Edelweiss in your hand is Oh Tsh Z TIT /°. '"' °^ ^^ * ^ -- *"fi'd some qStc hfngin 'helh Th ^^^^^"Z /« J^"^*- ^t is the coLct tnmg in .he Al .. The graceful accompaniment of a declar- " I will try to get some," said Philip. to go LT^hims-' T;.,T" ^t '°° "^"^^ T^^^^^ -"h Janet exefnon r^w ' ,^^^'^^^' he ^s not able to take great WsTt' makes' tf"^ ^k' ' ^^^^Jl^^^-ting effect on the trouser- - f Lm^ '" b'^ggy. You will g. t him some ? ' p. ?.7.\^^ -o searching for Edek iss when we reach th. d never had it," he said. bottom was i persuaded the Captain 11 be beyond best of our ip was and humorously is going to e carriage." 1 to Janet. n't you see ? Besides, Salome." ev larried ! wl ot the s Oh some quite he correct f a declar- with Janet take great he trouser- le?" reach the " But not P<-PUI«AR BOOKS Bryce's Library Sen; post free to any address on receipt of price William Bryce, Publislidr, Toronto, Canada CANADIAN COPYRIGHT BOOKS No American reprints can be lawfully sold in Can..da. 15. Little Lord Fauntleroy. By Francis H. Burnett ' '?- 16c. " '• «' « .. ,. " " ^'* 16 Clotli 50 ao dlle Ftiin he Frozen Pirate. By W. 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Cloth cover ......'.'.'.'... ...U 00 THE DEVILS KNELL. 35: They laid up together a fund of pleasant recollections, to which to revert when holiday was over and work began • a shifting diorama of scenes and incidents and personages that would transform and beautify the interior of the drum when they were recalled to the obligation of treading it. But not so only. When they returned to work, it would be to hope and scheme for such another excursion together in the future, though perhaps they could hardly look for another ot the same duration. The retrospect would enrich, and the prospect stimulate, and banish tedium and the sense of <lrudgery from their life and work at smoky Mergatroyd What veins of interest had, moreover, been opened to both-ttowers, scenery, pictures, music, antiquities, social customs political institutions, European history past and that making under their eyes, such were no longer dead words, but living interests, germs of thought, studies to be pursued at home in the intervals of work, in relaxation from task by the aid of books and papers, and in common As mention has been made of the saying of an American he writer ventures to quote another-the remark made to iim by a Belgian : " I perceive that when the Flemish shop- keeper has realised a little money over the necessities of life he says to himself, ' Now I will buy a picture ! ' The German under the same circumstances says, ' Now, my son shall learn t'he wnrM 1 ?"%'J J^v ^"^^"^^" ^^V^' ' Now, I will see the word! The Englishman says, 'Now. I will have salmon, though it is four shillings a pound.' Thev fill their minds— your man his stomach." There have been found toads embedded in stone, which are supposed to have occupied the same situation for even SIX thousand years For six thousand years their minds have never travelled beyond the cavity in which, enveloped in obscurity, they have squatted ; and men will allow them- selves to settle down into holes exactly fitting them in which they will sit out the span of their allotted days n selt-complacency, without an idea beyond it, an ambition outside It. Indeed, we live upon a Goodwin'Sand!^hat°s ready to engulf us, to suck us down, and em-bed us in its lieart, unless we bestu ourselves and resist the downward =ucuui;. 1.CI me reader look around him and see how manv of those he knows are embedded in their holes as toads able only to talk about their holes, to be touched by nothnt which does not affect their holes, are unconcerned about eve^th ng II ! .•J.>8 THE PENNVCOMKQLJICKS. save the texture of the stone that encloses them, and the shmc that drapes the walls of their holes. We do not say that the only means of escape from such bondaj^e and mental stultification is continental travel ; there are a hundred ways of escape from petrefaction, if only we will see them, and use them persistently. In the case under consideration it happened to be the way, and the most effective way, in which both Philip and Salome escaped from the holes into which they were about to sink and become sealed up. But there is one way in which the overplus of money will never help to deliver us from petrefaction, and that is, by putting it into onr stomachs in the shape of salmon at four shillings a pound. We remember the case of a very short-sighted man, who had been short-sighted from infancy. He never wore glasses till he was aged about five-and-twenty, and then suddenly found himself launched into a new world, and able to see and take a lively interest in things which liad been hidden from him hitherto. We are all, through life, if we do not volun- tarily become like the toad-hole dwellers, being introduced into new worlds, whether by the acquisition of a picture like tiie Flemish, or by learning a new language like the German, or by travel, as the Yankee. Philip and Salome had put on their glasses simultaneously, and it quickened their affection for each other to be engaged on the same effort, ^nd to bo together in the acquisition of wisdom and knowledge and experience Besides this intellectual and moral bond they had another— certainly at the time not very intellectual, but a very fast and dear one — the little Philip, who travelled with them wherever they went, and who wound himself about both their hearts, and in doiug so blended both in one. It was early in life for the child to begin his travels, but traveliiu},'^ did not hurt him. He throve on it. Before he said " Pa,^' or " Ma," he articulated the syllable " Go." As Philip the Greater said, an augury of the young man's future, as one ot action. At length Phihp and Salome were home; and once again Salome flew to the arms of the dear white-haired old man, whose face had lost all its liardness and had acquired a new expression of sweetness. And Jeremiah was able to receive her loving embrace, and to lioid her to his breast without shrinking, without a tremor. Tlie storm uner had set in on his mi liad passed, and the St. Luke's su fud of iifr, to be cheered not only by the presence of the si ime rom such el ; there only we ise under : effective the holes saled up. oney will at is, by n at four nan, who e glasses suddenl}' 5 see and den from ot volun- troduced :ture like German. 1 put on affection • nd to bo idge and Dnd they tual, but lied with )Out both It was ravellmg id " Pa," hilip the -, as one nd once iired old :quircd a .'as able to his e storm n on his ience of Hew Edition ■OF THE EOYAL GAME OF PARCHEESI. ^©p\alar l=rlc© $1.00 COMPLETE. WILLIAM BRYOB, PUBLISHED. Toronto. I m Eleclro-Gupative Institution ESTABLISHED 1874, 4 Queen Street ZSast, TORONTO, ONT. '••::::::::: f^^;::»'--- A. NORMAN'S ELECTRO-CURATIVE APPLIANCES have stood the test of time, and are the best in the world for the BSLZSF AlTD CUBS OF Rheumalic and Nervous Diseases, Indigestion, Liver Complaint Nervous Debility, and Loss of Vital Power from Whatever Cause. There are many Imitation!^, 1»ut none are eqnal to these Appliances. CONSULTATION AND CATALOGUE FREE. i^^ REFERENCES. "Wm. KpnBTKMAM, Ju , y.'AQ, RoBEHT G. Dalton. P^sij. N. (r, Rjnsrow K"". Mkbsbb. Mason A Risen. .1. Oban; Macuonai-d, Esq. Donali> C. Hidout, Esq. R. C. Davibb. Esq. Rev. J. Hnusox Taylok, Hon. Jcdok Maci>«cgall. AND MANY OTHBR8. ClMoFABliflllPTM WITHOUT MEDICINE. Oivr appliances a^t as perject Ahsorbertts hy de- stroying the germs of (liHease and remming all Impurities jrom the body. All diseases are svo cessfidly treated hy CORRESPONDENCE, as o\Lr goods can he ap^ plied at home. senator ,fj}tt^ flSJ.^ f 1, ? f „*[ Jj-}^"^' . '•ri?_ T CliaH.r!nSAna.P.1ir..T.^»U-:j-. eyesight. Miss Laura Grose, 166 King w.. Granu- Jated Eye Lid ; cured in 4 weeks. Be?. Chas. Hole, Halifax, is happy to testify to the beneats received from Butterfly Belt and Actina. A. Rogers, tobacconiat, Adelaide west, declares Actina worth 0100 Ml88 Flora McDonald, 21 Wilton Ave . miMes a large lump from her hand of 13 years standing. S. Floyd, im Portland at, Liver and ^°T-n*.°*^ Pyspepsia cured. e. B.Gla88ford, Markdale, Sciatica and Dyspepsia cured ,n 6 weeks; 15 yea"rs 13 ygrs, oar ^ciati^ Belt cured her. ». any p„c ve«« • ^„;*y'' EmiBMons entirely ceased years. Ihbsb Lettbrs on Filb. Clias. C08eii8,P.M., Trowbridge, gener Nervous Debility, now enjoys good healtl Thomas Bryao, 3V1 Dundaa st., genera. Debility, improved from the first day, now perfectly cured. Wm. Cole, G.T.B., fireman, oared of ^>][er and Kidney troubles. A. E. Col well, engraver, city, Rheuma- tism m the knees, cured. J. A. T. Ivy, cured of nightly emisalons in 6 weeks. Your Belt an I Suspensory cured me of Impotency, writes G. A. Would not be without your Belt and buspensory for $50. says J. McG. For General Nervous Debility your Butterfly Belt and Suspensory are cheap at any price. *^ Have not felt so well in 20 "'"'"''^^r^^^^^^'^V^'^'S^^t^ti.t^'^ Combrne Beit and Suspensory onfw 4«"^^ certain. No VJneear «r Z,i2 ^ ^^' ^"•'© "^14t;SS;'J^? g^«en St. West, --,-■ — ., THE REPROACH OF ANNESLEV m ! W ' BT MAXWELL GBAT Antmu «v ^The SUence •f Doaei ]llainmii4.«» BiR-srccErs xjcBie.AjR":sr, ^o. b9 I2M0., PAPER COVER, 50 GEITS. ALSO II CLOTI. 75 GENTS. iwm birth, «rf on. to whom .U mov,m.n"s p"oii«llw„rwadln ^ fr^'tt •ofa Bh« n.ma to han Kwn tot olearly th. bikmimS Fr»K.l, ll^j. . 5?* hiB former one in the good opinion of she DubHrT Tn jf^.lf' ^^^ °'"" '^."^ ,*<> nvtl m:'.5:j?,s^i'"iir,!i:;ai^'A'^u?o:? niseis' *"'°?« "■; r-s^-™' THE devil's knell. Soi) m, 75 OENTS. Salome, but also by that of Pbilip the Little, wiio, it was clear would become the pet and idol of old Jeremiah, even more than he was the pet and idol of his father and mother. Late at night m the nursery, at the nursery window on Christmas eve, when Philip the Great, and Philip the Little, !folf ^1 T '""^'^ '■.^turned to Mergatroyd, husband and wife stood looking out into the star-besprent wintry sky. Salome had her arms round Philip's waist, and he had his thrown .^ofd.n'L H° f ■' If^""'"^ ^^f *° h'^ ^>^^' ^"d ^'^« rested her h-nn. I ^ °']!''^ ^r^'*- ^^^ «"'>' ^'^^^ »" the room came nf Z ohfr-' l"^ """'^ "^"""^ for some time was the breathing ot the child in its cradle. ^ A?V' ^T^u^^y.^'"'^ occupied by their own thoughts. At length Phihp broke the silence and said, " It is verv verv good of uncle Jeremiah ; he has taken me into full part- Trn.T' ""''a "^ '^* '" "'°''^' ^^ proposes that he should winter ^turtogXr"' " ^^""^ ^° ^"°" ^^ °- *h- ^^^-^ ;| And what is he going to do with Mrs. Sidebottom ? " oc h 1 T?u^ f ^' "^ '^ ^'"'^e^f undecided. He says that as he laid the trap into which she fell, he must not be too hard with her He will see her himself. He goes afte? he frrrnl?' 'f ^S"'"' ^^'^J" ^'^ ^^" ^'^'^ ^er and make son e arrangement He says, but hardly can mean what he says, tances'and nrl iT"'" that persons pinched in circum- stances and pressed for money lose their scruples, as crabs pursued'' 'ltT;r^ I'-rds drop their tails when nipped or pursued. Its a law of nature and must be allowed for." Salo'iieTaidtothmt " °' ^^'^"^^ ^^^'"^^ ''^ ''''' ^"^ All at once she started. " Oh, Philip ! What is that ' " A sound issued from the cradle. She ran to it stoooed and looked at her baby. The flashes of the firelight w^re reflected from the ceihng on the little face. ^ " Hark ! oh, hark, Philip. Baby is laughing-lauffhine aloud in his sleep. He has never done that before It"! from very joy at being home again." - \\ hat, Salome ?-after Paris and Rome, the A Ids and F— iiuvv can It De otherwise ? And all oh. PluHp, how kind lke^o^:i^' Hoi p;:a:eT.hev' »een, .o see us back again. 1 .l.ough.-I^^airfhouRht fh would have shaken my hand off, and thai old Fanshawe, th ey r: 0^ rfl i s :itiu THIi PENNYCOMEyUlCKS. night-watch would have kissed me, Philip. There may be more light-hearted more picturesque, more romantic people m other lands, but there can be nowhere, not throughout the world more true, warm-hearted, sterling folk, than our dear Yorkshire people. Do you not love them, Philip ? " in i^l^l7 ^'^^"^ Yorkshire the best proof of my attachment in taking to me a wife from thence." "Oh, ^hilip?" Salome nestled to his side again by the window, and with him again looked forth silently into the night sky After a long pause Philip said, " Hark I " Through the still night air could be heard the church bell 1 nree. Three. Three. coul£d\o :„rhunld' ^""'■■'^^ "■" "^""'^^ "-^ ^g- "« Ho: ca"„' th^^b:'/"' "'='^™^' ^"""P- •' "°" -.racrdinary. It ir.he'KirKndr™' '"'"°^' ""^ ^°" ""' ■"■"-^ "The Devil's Kneil?" i. 'f7^VS'"i'^"'^^^ °" Christmas Eve, the sexton here and Christ'Llorn''^'''^ *°'^"' ^^^ ''"'"' ^^'^ ^^^" '^ ^^^^ .u ^^^\ ^ moment's thought, Philip said gravely, - Yes- the Devil is dead, that is to say, the old evil principle in me my former self-assurance, pride and mistrust-it is dead But, Salome, I ought to tell you that there was a time and not so long ago when ." ' "" She put her hand over his mouth. ': The Devil is dead," she said ; «' I want to hear nothinc^ of his last sickness. But, Philip, ^oi ought to know that 1 was— at Andermatt— very foolish, very jeal " He stopped her with a kiss. an ej^^^"""^' y°" "^^""^ "^^^^ ^°°^'sh : you were always an ^ " Well." she said •• we will not talk of the past : we will sei our taces to the luture. The Devil is dead." The End. Bryce'» Home Herl€»— Continued, W9. The Text Book of Fraemasonry Cloth OorwTTf 170. PaUiter's American Arohiteelurt ; or, Every Man hh own Builder. Oon-* Cloth.,..., .,,,,,,,,,,, 9 00 i?J. The DIanond Button. By Barclay North . JH 172. The Shadow of John Wanaceu By L. Olarkwii * JJ 173. From Different Slandpointa, By Paney .'.'**,**.* m 174. Mrs. Solomon Smith Looltlng on. ByPanar !a 176. Christie's Christmaa. By Pansy ... •? m !!!• cf J'/^V" '^'"^ ByBdwi^i'i'v^n'iii;:;:::;:::::;:; so 177. The Fair Qod ByLewWaUaoe !^ 178. St Elmo. By Angusta J. Brana Wilson' !!!.*!.* m l^o:^o:orn•;Edt:"Iy's.^",r." ^^"^^^^^ - f!i* ??i^'«""™» 0' LHe. By Sir John Lubb<^,*.*.\\'; .*;;;;;; !f 182. Marahowi By Harriott Watson .... !! 188. Won hy Waiting By Edna LyaU f? 184. la Ike IMMi Di^ m !!.*!!,'.'!!.'.* 186. Vashli. By Augusta J. E. Wilson..' !.*!.**"*■* ** 186. The People I've Smiled WHh. By Marshall P. Wilder ^ 187. A Hardy Norseman. By Edna Lyall .... 188. The Master of Ballantrae. By R. L. Stevenson H 189. Natural Law In the Spiritual World. By Prof. H. D;;mmond'::::;;**'* 3^ 190. Macarla. By A. J. E. Wilson on lyO f".»iin jJ(J 194. 195..:: 196. 197. ;:::: 198 306 "^ i07. ^' MAIVO BOOiUL rORONTO MAP. In colon 10 gg " oloth ooTer , ^ g^ " ■mall p^ket , '.*.**.** 10 TORONTO GUIDE, fancy cover, with Map, Pi .ographi and niastratiVn^!! M Th« Hoasehold Dootor. Diieases, their Symptoma and Treatmeut. wfth IllDstrationa. By George Black ... . Cloth binding M The Enquirer*! Oracle, a Ready Refernnoe Boca on Health, Edncation and Home Management, Illaatrated Cloth binding 86 Chaees Recipe. ^.,„ Stheditioa 50 Brycee Pocket Ready Beokoner, oloth ig Seaside Ck>ok Book , * q^ Chesterfield '■ Art of Letter Writing , .'.*.*.**'.'.'.*...***.'.* 10 Jalian's Interest Tabloa ^ !*.*..'.'/.'.* 60 Day's Ready Reckoner, complete 25 Cheeterfield's Letter Writer and Etiqnette, oomphtt !.'...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! U Day's Lumber and Log Book , Xj Chesterfield's Rulea of Etiquette, complete *.*...*.,*.'.!'. 10 New Selections for Aatograph Alboma i^, Bcribner's Lumber and Log Book , ••.,,, IS The Lover's Ooide **^ iq New Home Made Cook Book.... ,,,, iq Hand Book of Croquet.. Id Toglish Dictionary, complete, wonder of the age in eheap books 5 Fole on Whist, oomplete gj lorontolllnstrated Guide !!!!!!!!!!!! tl Muskoka lUnstrated. with guide, M view* and 1 maps !!!!"!!!!!! tl Canada Illustrated from Atlantic to Pacific, with 61 views, map and sketch byG. M.ABAM. Fliaeeibookof the kind ever produced in Canada.. « 00 Presentation edition, very floe fl 00 edition f Ot Oonvanatloii Oarda., Qame of Snap Game of Nations ^.^ Oame of Aothon „. Ua ... ISO. Oame of QaoM ol Bmu SUere Tiav«la.. efOta lor MsU aaiOM Baehe- avarjrtiilng eompleSe > to SI 10 u llaitrstiant... 50 ;«atmeui, whh Cloth binding U Bdaoation and Cloth binding 85 ,...8theditioa 50 U 35 ..« 10 60 U 95 15 10 ••••••••••••• Xo ••••••••••••• xu 10 10 oka 5 fl5 15 ap and iketoh in 0»nada..tl 00 on, rorj Aim 1 00 ••*... •••••• • OO ■aa QU Baeh*- i<fcA ^jwwt<fc»» h^ Bryce's Notable Novel Series JTo. 40* -King's Own ~ "^ - 401— K wton Foster ." °y Marryii " 402-Peter Simple .'.'.'" •* 403-Jacob Faithful * - 404— Pirate and Three Cutters. " ** 405 -Japheft in Soarch of a Futher. . .* ** ** 406— Pac ja of Many Tales " " - 407-Mid8hipmanJ aay...'*! ** •• 408— Phantom Ship... * •• •• 409-Dog Fiem- ......'** " *• •• 410-Poor JaoJ< „', •* •« 411— Poacher.. ...**.''."* ** " 412-PercivaI K ue"!!!!!!!.*.'.*]*!; •« 413— Mastermaa Heady....'.*'**.*.' ** *• 414— Privatecrsman ** •• 415-Tho Naval Officer. " - 416-... . „ 417 •• 418— Stories of Waterloo. •• 419— Scottish Chiefs... . % Maxwell " 420— L'ncio Tom's Cabin.. By Porter " 421— Windsor Cattle By Stowe •• 122-Kory O'More. .« ^7 Ainsworth " 423-. By Lover " 424— Tom Cringle's Log*. ...'.*.'.'." " 425— Disowned .'.*, By M. Scott " 426— Paul Clifford. ... ^7 1'ytton " 427-Alice •♦ 428-Erne8t Maltruvers.. " 429— Pelham *"* " 430— Devereux ' '^ •' 431— En one Aram..........'..* •• 432— L ist Days of Pompeii . ." .' •• 433— Renzi " 434-Night and Morning. - 435-Last of the Barons. * " 43&-1. " 437^ - 438- ■ • ■••••••"•••••.,,».. PICTURE IlF.PAHTi^ET^fT. PUCS, ff he riorse Cuarcls, London, Changing Guard sixe 20 * SS . . 9 SO Trooiing the Colors " 20 x 23. . 5< Her Majesty Quoen Victoria in her Coronation Robos, steel plate engraving ^'^-e 23 x 34 . . I CO Her Majesty Queen Victoria Jubilee Picture " 30x10.. oO The Forester's Daujihter " 30 x 40. . I 00 The Tower of London from the River Thames " 30 x 40. . 1 00 Bengal Lancers " 20x23.. .-,0 Tobogganing, The Start, Joy 2.'. «• The Finish, Grief 25 LITHO-PIIOTO. OF NIAGARA FALLS size 18 x 24. . 2.", Niagara Falls Views, mounted on fine bevelled gilt edge cards, in set of G, in heavy manilla envelopes por set . . 7.1 Will supply the above, unmounted, 5c. each view, or 2uc. per set. ^ Or in handsome booklet form (6 views), with fine cover printed in gold . . 3.> Ontario NeW Parliament Buildings 2r» Cabinet of Lord Stanley, Governor- General of Canada 25 18 Fine Views of Leading Points of Interest in Toronto, cabinet size, unmounted ^ •'*' flailed to any Ad<lro«» on Keoeipt of Price. WILLIAM Publisher, BRYCE, Toronto, Canada. •mS TIS-A.3DE S"Cr]P:E=I-iIEID.