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MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART 
 
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 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 ? " 
 
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 1653 East Main Street 
 
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 (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) 
 
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 I.I 
 
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 Uilii 
 
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 Li: 
 
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 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 
 
 

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 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 
 
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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 
 
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Bryce's IIouio levies- Continugd. 
 
 l-'8. Burkctt's Lock. By M. G. McClelland '"so 
 
 129 Tho Silence of Dean Maitland. By Maxwell Grey - 25 
 
 130. The Painter of Parma. By S. Cobb, Jr 30 
 
 131. Grandison Mather. By Sidney Luska qq 
 
 132. Sappha. Illustrated Edition. By A. Daudet 30 
 
 133. The Two Chiefs of Dunboy. By James A. Froude 60 
 
 134. Karmel, The Seoul By S. Cobb, author of "Gunmaker of Moscow" . . 30 
 
 135. The Man Outside. By C. M. Boutelle 30 
 
 136. Dolly. A Love Story. By F. H. Burnett 25 
 
 137. We Two. ByEdnaLyall 25 
 
 138. Looking Backward. By Edward Bellamy, ' 35 
 
 139. Stormlight By F. E. Muddock 25 
 
 140. Helen's Babies. By Habberton 26 
 
 141. Fair Barbarian. By F. H. Burnett 25 
 
 142. Lindsay's Luck. " 25 
 
 143. Booties' Baby. By J. S. Winter 25 
 
 144. Dunraven Ranch. By Captain C. King 25 
 
 146. Cousin Pons. By Honore Balzac 30 
 
 146. Guenn. By Blanche Willis Howard 35 
 
 147. Infcilce. By A. J. Evans Wilson 30 
 
 148. Beulah. " " .....................!... 30 
 
 149. Chatauqua Girls at Home. By Pansy 30 
 
 150. Links in Rebecca's Life. " 30 
 
 151. Julia Ried. •» 30 
 
 162. Ester Ried Yel Speaking. " so 
 
 153. Ester Ried. •« 30 
 
 154. Three People. " 30 
 
 155. Four Girls at Chatauqua. " 30 
 
 156. Ruth Erskine's Grosses. " 30 
 
 157. An Endless Chain. " 30 
 
 158. Naomi. By Mrs. Webb... 80 
 
 159. Daughter of Fife. By Mrs. A. E. Barr 35 
 
 160. Bow of Orange Ribbon. •' 36 
 
 161. Struck Dcwn. By Hawley Smart 26 
 
 162. That Lass 0' Lowries. By F. H. Burnett so 
 
 163. Paul Jones. By Alexander Dumas 25 
 
 164. For England's Sake. By Robert Cromie 25 
 
 165. Kathleen. By F. PI. Burnett \ 25 
 
 166. Orion, The Gold Beater. By S. Cobb so 
 
 io?. Bon Hur. By Lew \Vaiiace 30 
 
 1U8 Cariile's Manual of Freemasonry. 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.