^> IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V ^ / O <« ^ta ///// A '«^- (y.s 1.0 I.I ■f^iiM ii^^i 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 IIIIII.4 I11I1I.6 V] 7 V, * M w "V/ o 7 ;V ^ %, WAS^^ €^ S. ''i^<^ \ f.^ ■"^ Ss. CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D D D D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcolordes, tachetdes ou piqu6es Tight binding (may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin)/ Reliure serr6 (peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intdrieure) L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Certains difauts susceptibles de nuire d la quality de la reproduction .iont notds ci-dessous. D D D Coloured pages/ Pagei de couleur Coloured plates/ Planches en couleur Shaw through/ Transparence Pages damaged/ F'ages endommagdes The pos of 1 filrr Thf cor or 1 app The fiin insi Ma in c upF bot foil Additional comments/ Commentaires suppl^mentaires Quality of print varies. Bibliographic Notes / Notes bibliographiques D D Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Bound with other material/ Reli6 av9c d'autres documents n Pagination incorrect/ Erreurs de pagination Pages missing/ Des pages manquent n Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque D Maps missing/ Des cartes g«^ographiques manquent D Plates missing/ Des planches manquent Additional comments/ Commentaires suppldmentaires Page 55 printed upside down. The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol — ^ (meaning CONTINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Las images suivantes ont H6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nattetd de I'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Un des symboles suivants apparaltra sur la der- nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^ signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". The original copy was borrowed from, and filmed with, the kind consent of the following institution: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire filmi fut reptoduit grdce d la g6n6rosit6 de I'dtablissement prdteur suivant : Bibliothdque nationale du Canada Maps or plates too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper JAft hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour §tre reproduites en un seul cliche sont film^es d partir de I'angle supdrieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 « 6 jk > It .< i ■■■ i lIEHIElfAliT BARNABAS BY FRANK BARRETT. AUTHOR OF "the GREAT IIESPER," " UONEST bAVIE," &C., &C. Entered according to Act of Parliament of Canaoa, in the Office of the Minister dt Agriculture, by V/illiam Brvcb, in the year one thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven. TORONTO: WILLIAM BRYCE. ,1 .*.t ^ ^ '■s CONT E NTS, CHAP. I. II III IV V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI.- XVII.- XVIIL- XIX.- XX.- XXI. xxii.-- I XXIII.- XXIV.- XXV.— IXXVL— —A Rogue and a Fool , , , —At Tub "Black Buy" — Di!. Blakdly • • • • • — BliOTIIEKH . . , , ■ , , — TlIK F1U8T \lEW , , , —On tub Coach • • • • » — Fkom Edmonton to WiNciLyoRE , —At "Tiik C11K.SNUT.S" . . . , -Night a.vu Muiimng .... -A Visit .... -On, ANI» VlXKGAR . . , , - Counsels . . , , - Pkemonitokv Symptoms . . , '•TiiK Best Laid .Schemes" , -The Estahlishment i.v Pakk Lane . -Tom Phoi'osbs— Lai»y Betty Uiarosrs . - Gekaki) Ckewe . , -iSouci vT 8aks Souci -The Invitation • • • • , -Who Shoum> Wear a Diat>kai but Si^e ? -The Nuuit or the Bali. . ., -A Second Ofpek . . , , , -An Evil Genius -Beiohe the Fight . . , , Dr. Blandly'b Opposition , , , The Fight PAtiH 1 4 10 15 2t> 30 3o 41) 48 f)3 71 7;» 84 8) 5^7 101 104 108 114 121 124 '▼. (OSTK.sL^: (iiAr. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI. XXX[I. VXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXX VII ]. XXXIX, XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV. XLVI. XLVII. XLVIII. XLIX. L. LI. LIL LIII.- LIV.- LV.- LVL- LVII.- LVIII.- LIX.- LX.- LXI.- - An I'.K TIIK FltillT . t • I —At tub " Lonb Cuow " . . , , -I?J TUB LotT ..... -bl-AHNKy -RKVKI.ATrON -A ItlOTKOxi'KCT . , , , , -PitKMKinTATION ..... — RoDsixa TIIK Lion .... -SwEETIIKAUTS ..... —Escape —An Akteknoon's Work , . , -Blake anu Tom's CoNri-Ub'OMs , . -A LovB Lettek .... — BaHNABAS PitEPAitES »'OR BUSINKSS . , — The BuaiNRss is DoxB . . . — \\A, Tidings ...... — Dii. Blandly in Stanhope Street . — Lai»y Bktty rkaciiks a Turning Point — A Friend in Need .... — Gehaiid Talbot ..... — The Taming ov Mrs. Baxter . . — Ladv J jetty's Visit .... —Brother and Sister . , , , —In Tom's Place —Barnabas and his Court . . . —The Meeting or Old Friesds , . —Flight and Pursuit .... —Quick and Dead —Pandora's Bu.\ ..... —Gerard Turns his Face to the Wall . -The Omen ...... -A Sturdy Rogue -Farewell . . . . . . -In the Library ..... -"Gke.vtkr Love hath no Man than this, THAT A Man lay down hh Like kor his Friends" ....... PA(in 127 1,'}2 \\M\ 13. > 144 147 ir>(> 1«!1 170 172 178 182 188 194 197 204 207 21.') 219 227 232 239 243 248 253 259 2G4 208 272 27.'» 280 283 286 290 18 PAun . 127 . i;m l.T.i . 144 147 . 15() iCl . IS'A 170 . 172 178 . 182 188 104 197 204 207 2ir, 211) 227 232 2m 243 248 253 2r)9 2(J4 2G8 272 27.-. 280 283 286 290 LIEUTENANT BARNABAS. CTUPTEU I. A I10(U K A\D A POOU A KN'imiT-EnnAXT tind his Sqtiirp rode along the Gv>»en Lanes, llornsey. Tiie K light Imd u fiice deeply pitted with small pox, a sliort nose, ii square jaw, a .strai;rht month, high chft'lvbonHS, large ears, and t'vt'S so rlose totrether that tliey were of necessity unusually snuill. I In wore a mau^y heaver hat with a uiiliiary cockade, a ljoh-vvi} of life ; hiit he s.it iu the snddle like a yo'ing- man, and wliisiled an Irish air with lively tunii in a jaunty and youth- ful style. He whistled, not for want of thono-Ijt, hut because his reflec- tions were of a Npeculativ, aijreealde sort. lie was a kniolit, not in the oM chivalric sen>se, but by reason that his life was devoted to adveMture. lie was not in the (ireen Lanes to r.'dress the wrmifrs of siifforitig' virtue, to help the weak, to r^lieve the . jtpre.xsed ; far from ii. He had no sympathy wiih vii-iue; if he were licky enough to meet with an unprotected lady he would |)ick he:- picket, and if •.MiythinL;- were to be got out of the weak and the oppressed, he would get it. Tlie squire was a man of quite a diPferent kin-l : a si out young fellow of eighteen or twenty, with hair of an honest red, and a face tun ' out of Nature's simplest mould — a face broad and expansive, with no undercut, and which one might 3 ijit»ili»l jii'c; I y cM.-ily Ity iimlviii^ a few in I'litii! ions on tlu' siivfncfl of u round Ddtcli clit-fM^; lu' woi-«j ii lonx' livery cout, sound bootK, and a liat. worth, say, about forty of his master's. The horse he bestrode was an excellent animal, whereas the knight's was as sorry a th-a-bitten grey as ever shambled along the road, and lia'iii nally carried his heiid down in dejection, as if lo()!ving with sorrow upon the abnormal proportions of his knees. The sjuire did not whistle; indee;1 \u> looked as miserable as if ho wei-e already on the ri^ad to Tyburn, and occasionally he o])inied his niouvh to let a sigh esca|ie. Beyond the fact tlial he hada(C'pt('d service under tlie Ivnight, there was no point of resemblance between him and the ancient squires, lie had no r'>V(>n';ic(^ for his master, eveept such as arose from ft-ar, iiiid lie liad no taste for the profession he had adopted. 'J'he experience of twenty-four hours had com- pletely chnnot'ii tile colour of his views, and he heartily wished tiiat Ije had never been born. IJe trotted along about Hfty yarti.s Itehind his master — a distance he would fain have increased but that the knight occasionally turned in his saddle to see how he got on, and constantly kept one hand undi'r his cloak on his pistol holster. Thry hiid p;iyse\ t(dl-keeppr was a heavv-eyed, phlegmatic man: he looked at the kuiuht from uead to foot, keeping his hands in '• r f % A'a.i .\ Vn.)l 8 llit« po(U»'t8 of luM filiort r]M'nii. iiMil tiiininir nvt'v his niPi»»v belwie lif 111)8 •' o.hI. '* TluTo's II lioiist^ ^(icf! t'iKiiic'i for ynu iilioiU n iiiiiti luitN'C on. 'The Jjla'cli lio},' NN l-m ti.c ii--ia't y \o your ii-fi," lu' miid. 'i'ho Knii,''])! dus" his Iuh-Is vicinnH^y in tlip vH s if Iiis liorHe, ami niii'li' u sinrn r<» \\'i< ^jiiin', whn .-ifvul liy tlu* ^nU' wai.iii^'' to liikt' Ills placi' ill Ills ini!-it'r'>< nil", ii> cnuic lo lii> .-id*'. "We art! ^ettiii^' nt»ar Lnixluii. and I don t Kiiha' liiciiuiH herenbciiits, m) you will have to be laniui," said Im. " Vt'S, yc.iir woysliip.'' "lu tile Hrst ]dace, you imisl dro]i t'.iat Iialiit of nddvc^siDM^ me us your woislii;). T li;:\f^tid»." "Lieutenant is such a lonj? nnine to rcmeniher : I could think of captain, if it's all the Minie to yiui."' " Captain won't do. I'ivery laM'ui da liie road calls himself captain now. 1 dou'i mind your lalling nt» • your honuiir.'" •*I can recollect that, beca'se .lu>lice i'lioriion is always called your honoiir, and I can tliiiih of nolliin^' ixii the bt.'ucii and niagistiates since I stole this lior.^e." "Haven't 1 told you that you didn't steal tlie hnrse ? TliP horse wa8 given you when you entered .Adii-iral Tallxtt's ser- vice, and so in leaviii','' it you were justiiied iii taking the horse with you. That's plain, ain't it r " " It would be right enough if everyone looked at tlie thing as generou.'sly as your hoiuuir ; hut \ousee, all if.lks haven"i got the same way of giving and takiii;r, and if Mas.er Pihike the steward cauirht sight of me. I wager he'd have iiie hanged for not ihiid\ii g afthe does.' " Well, my lad, just to ease your mind, we'll rlianoe hor.--' >» at once. You can ride my mare with a ligiit heart, for yni may be certain no one will accuse you oi littving stolen lu-r. It's as good as giving you ten gunie«.s, it is," he said, as he dismounted and handed the rein over tu his servant, " I'vt had as much offered for her agaiti and i'g.iin."' " That makes ten guineas and six shillit-gs in one day," f-aiil the squire to himself; " why that's more than some servanti:* gets in a year." " I wonder I didn't think of that before," thought Lieu- tenant Barnabas. "He look.- more li!;e iny servant on the old mare, and there's less chaiK\^ of his giving me tlie slip. I could run him down in five minutes on this boi.'^e." Tu.iiiiig to his servant, he surveyed him with satisfaction, and then said : " And now about your name." 1—2 4 Tir.'.TKWNT rA".\AnAS. " T;)Ma>« Sliiiic, your lioiiouv. Toby for short." "Tobijw won't do. Toby in too fatniliar. Slink — wall, thi)re'8 a siiLMking .(l to h. EviTv one lockod at liini tliUH liofoie rr|il\iiijr to lii» fii-st quest iona. " Ah! " «he faid, takinjf off Iicr jflafst's and vitttinfc tlieni in h«'r pocket. " The l)est nxtni for you \t* the ]wirl(>nr. Ard an for tiinner, there's no hutclier'8 meat in the liouw. so \ou niuHt make shift with ejrgs and bacon, if you cboo8« to stop beie." " It would seem tluit you are noi in the hal.it (»f st-oin^i' gentlemen at your bouhc*, madam.'' " Ob, wo see as mnny of your kind nw we want, thank \ou, Sir," replied the lioste."^.*!, tartly. Without replyin£r,the Lieuteiuint .«<\vMyp;'er<'d intotliey nrlonr. There he .stirred the fire, piled more coal.s on the back, drew a "W ind.snr cliair well in front, s»!ated hinisflf, suifk \us it f( nn the hobfl, and then having with .sonuf ditl.ciihy ])a|ier, f)retended to be deeply en;ii'o.*sed in its conttnt:* ^^lKn the lOftef-s came in to lay the cloth. ** U'ill your compnnion dine with ynu ? " she nfked. " My servant will dine in the kiuben; and 1 will roulde you to bring candle,«, and liyrht a fire in your b»'.«t bedroi m.'" "Are you going to stay all niglii !' London is only li\e miles off." " It plea,«*es me to stay here, inndam." replied LieutiMnnt Ilarnabas, turning his chair to give his licstcss the full 1)* n^f-t of hi.«« frown. lie refolded his paper, .still hmking at her, il en returned to a deep .study of the Jiews, hh'.s.-?Hdly unconHcious* that the paper had got upside down. "Hum!' murmured the hostess as she left the roo'ti. "Four (/clock, and l>riglit wcatlier- a strange lime lor a gentlfwian keeping a servant to put up al a small village inn fio near London." The old hostler wa.s breaking the ic^' in the hov.s" -trout: Ii in front of the house, ."^he opened the half-door and beckoned him. " Billy, is thf .stable closed ? " s!ie asked. "No, inaruj. V'oiing chap's a-groominj,'' the ho.sse8 down." "You go r©und thereat once, an-s. entered the pnrlonr. Lieutenant Iiiirnahns had resinned his place before llif fire — his feet on the hob, his chair tilted back, a Umg clay pipe in his mouth, and his wig over his eyes, .so that the tie stood out from the back of his heuil, exposing the lower part of his shaven skull, "Is that you, Slink?" he allied, without cluin^itix his position. " Yes, your honour." Slink was content that his master did not see his face. " Open the door sharp, annton with undiminished speed until he teaclied the"]3eH" lun, where he paused to recover his hreath and wipe the perspira- tion from his face. Five miiuites later he rarg the tell at the garden-gate of Dr. P)landly's house. "No light to be seen," he muttered, looking over the gate at the house which stood back behind a large cedar. " He can't be in bed yet awhile, it has only just gowe seven; yet he's such a queer old put. Ah, thajik goodness, there's a light." A bent old man came from the house, and opening the little S'juare door behind a gi-ating let into the gate, peered through. " You needn't be afraid, Jerry, it's only your young friend. Is your m.'ister at home?" said the Lieutenant, who spoke civilly to no one unless he was obliged. " Ah ! " grunted Jerry, who evidently recosnised the speaker, " if it's only you, you can wait there while I go and see if master be at home." He closed the grating and walked slowly back to the house, chucklintr audibly in response to the curses of the gentleman on the oilier side of the gate. The old servant craped his shoes carefully, closed the door, and rubbed his f ?et on the mat in the same methodical manner, stopped in his passage across the hall to see what the time was by the dark-faced, long-bodied clock, and iinally tapped at the door of Doctor Blandly's sitting-room. "Come in," said the Doctor; "fifteen two, fifteen four, a pair's six and jack, queen, king — that makes nine. Is that you, Jerry P " " Yes, master ; shall I wait till the game's finished P * lA' Dli. BLANDJ.Y. 11 "What do you want?" Jerry stood by the door; a screen stood between him unci Doctor Blandly. He stepped forward to the Hide of this .rcliief, kni't'-I)reerhes, and thick, grey knitted stockings. DoAi were coniFurtibly fat and red ; the vicar had a jnlly eheeriness upon his pi ';isant faee, as indeed, at this moment, Dr. Blandly had nUn. hut it had not the same expression of habitual content and slee n- satisfac^'ion. " Well, .Jerry, wliat is it ? " said Doetor llliindh , loouing up. ** You look so comfortable and cosy, masier, I (lou't like to disturb you. Shall 1 come again in live minutes ? It'll do him good to wait." '' :iim : Who ? " " It's only that there Mr. Barnabas Crewe. Fle's noi in the house, Sir." A luid ring of the distant bell added confirmation to this aniionncement. *• Show Mr. Crewe into the library, Jerry." " vVhen you've finished your game. Sir y " "No; now. The Vicar threatens to go after this gime, and I know he won't be^ov(^ for T have not turn«!d the corner yet, and it is his crib next time." " Well done, Doctor; and it's past seven," Ci »d Jerry, leaving the room. " That Jerry makes himself too familiar. Blandly," waid the Vicar. "Dear me, past seven I Mrs. Baxter will be growing anxious." " I'll warrant she's not half so anxious as yoti are, Jack. I declare that when the clock strikes seven you look as if the Day of Judgment was dawning." MEI TENANT F.ARNAISAS. (- *' Ifen ! Bi'U i I'll give yuii a .sermon next Sunday upon profaiiiry ! " " Do, Jack ; and I proinise to keep awake if you can invent uny greater puni.«hineut for the wicKod tlian that of having a scolding wife and faint heart.'' " Famt lieart, IVn, wliat do vou mean? Do vou think T'm afraid of Mrs. Daxter?" " I'd give my be.«t punch-bowl to hear you tell her you're not. If your sernions were only half a.s powerfid as hers, what a well-orfiun tluit cIiuriKiler in otlicr n^jiicus. I li.wevi'i, llml ih not to th»' puiui. \ ou cume hi-ro »ix WL'eks a^n) for muiioy, and you did not get it; you will get miiit' to-ii'i;lit." " It is l)ecf'mbt'r now, the next fifty will be due on the 'J')\h ; r only ask Tor an ndvaiicf." •• I inld you wlifMi you weft' lant here that the individual who hfiN made you this quarterly allowance, no longer lives; and I hat the ctuitiiiuaiice of the payment depended upon the i^etiei'owity of hisj sson." " And is tlie son disposed to be generous?" "I cannot say. I hope to know his decision before the quaiter-day." • " Will you tell mo why this money is paid me f " "No." TIh" Doctor spoke wit b emphasis. " Supposing this money is mine by right, and supposing I choiiM! to lake my fortune in a lump, inslt!ad of liuving to come lieve like a bej;garly lax-coUeclor to take a fourth or my income every three months." " Well ? " " Atid supposing 1 know from whom I have received this uumey." Jlainabas fixed his eyes on the Doctor to see what iiiipressioii his words made. " And supposing I went to a ceiiHin hall, not ten miles from Seveiioaks in Kent" — the Doctor started, and liavnabas, satisfied with his observation, (toiuiiuied : " and asked Mr. Talbot the question I have put to you — what would bo the result ?" " Mr. Talbot would say to you, * I know nothing about it.' " " Know nothing about it, when he pays me two hundred a year ! " " Exactly so." ' " Hut you know Mr. Talbot — it's no good denying that — Mr. Thomas Talbot, son of Admiral Talbot." '• "Who was killed in the battle off Cadiz. Certainly. Now listeTi. If you go to Mr. Talbot he will say, ' I know nothing about it — you must ask Dr. Blandly,' and when vou come to me, 1 shall say, * I will give you not, another farthing so long as you live.' Do you understand me ? I will make it clear to you. I desire that you shall never speak to Mr. Thomas Talbot. While you conform with my wishes in this respect, I will continue the payment of two hundred pounds per annum to you and vour brother Gerard, supposing that Mr. Talbot con- .sents to pay the sum granted by his father ; but the moment I find you have departed from this condition, I shall stop the payment. Is that plain to you P " r::o:-::K-: !. 1.' *' Tin you rnoiin to hay lliiit if is optionn' to yoti P " " 1 do. So now, Mr. Cnnvi', yoii will sr'i- iliiit \oiir nolicv ti to behave yourself dec- Mil ly. f do not sunposr> tluit you under- stand what gratitude is, or I woiilfl iniinr out to you tl.at you luive reason to he thankful you have not an on'inary man of law to deal with. There ar(> lew urn wlio would tiikn the troiihle I am takinjif to SKCurcyou two huudr.d a your a..fr rt- ceivinpsuch impudt'uee as T Iuivm eudur^'d." With the bad frj'uce of a houid wii ) sw;illow« an u'l^-nvourv inor.sel, fearing the conscriuenct'S oi' /eii'.-;al, !i,i"i:a'(.i.s (\-e\ve gulped down the nuu-al of this lesson and d'^partfd. I To re- frained from cursing the old servant who 1ie re- lumiiliiu'cd iiiK lorowiiig' luoi'iilii^ whua he cume to couuider whiil wuH iii'Xt 1() l)n duuti. " I'm not afraid of tlie old hosfltT, and I'm not afraid of the old woman," ho reflected, shoving his chair from the hreakfast table. " When Slink goes to feetl the nags we might clnp the snddh'son and bolt ; that's the Himplest way out of the difficulty. But there's a baker o' one side uiid a bhicksmith t'other — and there's that cage and the stocks on the green. I'll warrant the old woman's uu good terms with her neighbours. She's outside talking to some one now. Wonder who? Oh, there you are, you oM tabby, are you ; talki?ig to two men, and one as like a constable as needs be. Bolting won't do with these gentry about. Might take the mare and leave Slink liere with the old 8cr(!w; but I Hhouldn't get anything by that bargain. Be- sides, I don't want to lose my young friend Slink yet awhile, lie might be a plaguey good catspaw for me. Halloa, a man on a horse to ndd to the party, and he looks as much like a cursed catch-thief as the other. It would be plea.sant to sit in the stocks a day like this! T must pay my reckoning some- how. 1 wonder if Gerard's in town. I must go and see ; it's my only chance. Shall I attempt to get tlie mare out 't Ten to one >he'd refuse to let either leave the house until her bill's paid. Better not try ; it might lead to unpleasant conse- quences." The result of this decision was that Lieutenant Crewe presently lounged out of the inn to take another stroll. After walking from one end of the village to the other wiih affected carelessness, he turned down Hunger Lane leisurely, whistling a tune and slashing tlie air with his whip. At tlie bend of the lane he tain..! round, and seeing no one, at once ceased whist- ling and strode out rapidly. From Hanger Lane he took a path across the Hclds, passed Ilornsey Wood, and .so after an hour's stiff walking he c&me lo Charing Cross. Thence he walked to St. James's, and at length arrested his steps before a highly-respectable private hou.se in St. James's Street. " There's a dry march and violence to follow if Gerard's not at home," he muttered, as he pulled the bell. A servant opened the door. " Is Mr. Gerard Crewe in town ? " asked Barnabas. The man looked at him from top Ix) toe, and then asked : " What do you want ? " " Vi'ant to see him. If he's in town I'll run up to his rooms. I know them," answered Barnabas, putting his foot in the doorway. BROTHERS. 17 a an he brea "Take your fuot awn}, and I will wee. What name!' " "You can say Mr. Haniabiui, " replied the Lieutuuaiii, withdrawing' his foot, reluctantly, after looking ai. the .•w^rvaiii an if lie would like to strangln him. " It's always the «ame,'" he muttered, as the door closed, leaving him on the safe side of the threshold. " If 1 wus a bum-bailiff they wouldn't look at me more Huspicioiisly or take greater pains to keep me out of the house." The servant presently returned, and led the way to the first floor, where he opom.'d a door and admitted the scowling visitor. There wa.s no one in tlie roi>m. Marnabas threw him.-^sinll,■« y " HurnaltitH l)ri)ii;;'lii liis luiriil.s tro ii bi'liiiui \un liuad, Mat upri^'-lit, and with a Mtiddeti accesHion of malice, struck his fist on lii.s knee, exclaiming: '* It's a curwt'd Nliaine. Ili're are wo, brotlit»rH, and tlu! y()iniir«r lives like a prince, wliile tlie other faret* like a d'j/, and wor.He. One has to read books and look at pictures, ami liaiiglt? about my lady tliiH and my lord t'other, to pass the lime away, while tlie other ha-s to trudge a dozen miles, to beg a few pieces to pay for bin night'H lodging." " Yon have no one but vourNt-lf to blame, Ikrnabas. You never would be led, and if of your own accoi-d vou insist upon walking in iinclean places you must put up wi:h soiled clothes. \A'e started with the same advantages — except that your ambition was to be a blackguard, and mine was to be a gentleman. You always scorn* d ray ambition, whv do you envy me the result. Vou have no desire apparently to be- coujo a decent meml)er of society." " Oh ! plague take your decent society. A pothouse u'^d plenty is my motto. You keep your scents ana civets, your fiowder and lace, your sneaking, cringing, bowing, scraping, ying, fiddling, squalling — What are you laughing at ? " " At your envying me the possessions you detest so heartily." " Hang your possessions, I wouldn't give a fig for them all. It isn't them that galls ire." •' Then what does Y " " Why it galis me that two thieves should be so unequally paid. Hero am I, who drudge in the profession and starve, while you " " Control your tongue, or leave my room ! " said Gerard, sternly. " A man may tell the truth, I suppose," said Barnabas, dropping his voice, and speaking with dogged sullenness. " You don't want i.ne to believe that you live lilce this oit two hundred a year. Why, those diamonds in your handkerchief are a year's income at that rate. I'd have stuck to ciphering and reading, and quidt? and quods, had I known that they would show me how to cheat and keep a clean face to the world." " Do you want mo to throw you down stairs ? That is not the purpose with which you usually favour me with a visit." liamabas gnawed his dirty thumb-nail in silence, and Gerard continued : i;K()TIIf.K8. 19 " \Nl.iit liiive yon ooino for J* " " Miiiu'V." •* W Imr l\Hve yoii got in vour porkt'ts P " IliiniuhiiN lliruHt his liniiu into \uh nockot, and then h«ld up of bluck crupe, with a coiiiho iiiiij'li. u ))iei;e (}firnrfl look a coii]>le of puint-UN from hi« fob unU lniy memory that unless everything's written down tor me m my book it all goes tlfan out of my head." " You can read ? '* "No, I'm no scholar; but if I've got a thing written down in my book, and anyone asks me a qui'slion, I just let him read my book til' he finds out what lie v. ants to know. It's not a bad notion for a youtig fellow jiiyt tuiiifd niiiffcfii.'' " I should like to see your book," said the hostess, trying to keep a grave fac". "So should I. I forgot to bring it with me. However, I've hit on another capital notion that I'll be boinid will answer as well. I've put a dozen hors-^ beans in my neiir side pocket; my ofF-side pocket's empty — no it isn't, theie's one th<'re. Now what's that for? Oh, t ki c)w. The young woman in the kitchen told ine not to forget to wipe my feet when I came in. You see bow it acts: iind I'm bound to tinW it out, because wlien I'm tiot doing anything I have a kniick of puttiug my hands in my poekets." The hostess nodded approval, and Slink, highly deliglited v/ith this testimony of his sngacity, continued : " I'll just get his honour to tell lue what lie is, and what he's travelling in; then I'll dap a couple of benns in my pocket to remember bv. Thaff pretty good for a voung chap, isn't it?" "Hum. And how long have you had this master?" " Ever since the day before yesterday.' " Where does he live ? " "I'm prelty certain he told me, but don't remember now. If I'd only thought of my beans before!" " And where did he engage you ? I>o you rt'nietnber I bat ?" "Oh, yes, well enough. It happened we were both wsiiting at the blacksmith's to have our liorses sliod, and his honour if'H oi Mi: :a:;t \s. li Clime up and paltrl tl:.- mni-c. juid hcfrinnintr to tftik in it w(jc;iiil»It) way altmil (»in? tiling uud t'otlier, awktxi me wIum 1 cuiiii' from, and .so on." " Ajid wlial did you n-ply ?" " I said I camo from Talhot TTall.but T lindii'f put a mnstor, seeing that Doffor lilandly luid wrote to tli»'. Iiouselu'Hjxir to 8ay li(^ was killed in a bat t lo by t lu* Frfiuli — plaifn»» take t hem ! Then he sHnmed more inten^sted than ever, and moro kind, and said, Heeing" as I hadn't a muster, he would take nie into his service, and giv« me four tiuu.'3 an much for wages as I hud at the Hall." / "And you agreed ?" "Yes; but il were not for the wajjes altogether." Slink gave vent to a deep sigh, and hung hi.'» head. " Mary tells me you've been CKOsserl in love." "And 80 I have; Jenny, tlu5 .steward's daughter, the love- liest, prettiest maid in all tCent. She's pretty near. Iiroke my heart ; one day smiling at me till I felt prouder and happier than the king on his throne, and the next day making fun of me, till [ wished I was dead and buried. T threatened to leave her often, and she was always asking me why I didn't, and daring me to it, and the day befon^ yesterday she erowjied it all by calling me a ff)ol, so feeling right down desperate, 1 a(;cepted his honour's siM'vice." i . "Tell me what Inis happened since." " Well, we tof)k a long ride that night, and stopptid at an inn to sle(!p. Yesterday we cro.ssed a river by a ferry, and then we rode until we came here." " Did anything occur upon the road?" "Nothing. 1 jogged on beliind my master and thought of Jenny all tlie while, except when I raced the baker." "liaced the bakers" " Yes, while master went into an iuTi to drink somiMhing, and T was waiting outside minding the hordes, a baker stopped to give his nag a drink at the horse-trough, and he bi'gan to nuike fun of this horse as I'm a-grooming on now. * Why don't yf)u get a ])air o' crutcrhes for him ? ' he says. * Because,' I says, ' he can run faster without 'em.' Then his honour came out, and .says he, ' I'll wiiger a pound my man can strip yon and yf)ur cart between this and the next milestone, and give you up to yon elm for a start.' * I ha'n't got but a crown, liut I'll wager that and start level,' say-s the baker. ' Done,' says his honour. ' jump up. Imt mi. id, if there's anything in the road we make a Fresh .ntirt.' 'All rii-lit,' says the liakei-. chuckling and laughing, and up I'.i; geU* into his cart, and ui) I nlk in u wluM 1 a mnster, irt'pHr to kc ilu'm ! kind,iin,' mour cani« strip you and give crown, lint l)()iit>,' says iiiir in tlio tlie liakt-r. 1 TTiK FtnrT ni-:v;. rt" t, and ui> I gets in the saddle. IUh lioiionr iri)t up on th« man-, and niiv" 'One, two, tliret', off, you devils! ' '1 liert> wii.su't nothing' on the road, for why, it wan noiifjlif Itnt u ragfi^d, count ry-side, out-of-the-way kind of a phice. lly the Minif loktji thtii' wasn't any nule-Htones. Well, the baker went ahead like the wind, and whack my lior.«e as I nii;^ht T couldn't yiiin on him, seeing' that every moment he got nicne aheinl of me. llowev«'r, master kept up wi'li th(f baker, and I jtisl nni:iag'd to keep in sight, when the ])al\er ]Millt(l up his lior.>e, for wl y. we'ij run a couple of miles at h-ast. Wln-n I came up I foiuid lii.M hon»n»r and the baker was having high words, 'I've heal him," says the baker. 'No, you ha'n't,' says nniHier. * I've don« a coujih- of miles and mortv and your nnin's been geltMio- furch-r ami furder behind every minute," says the baki-r. ' \\ In! dn that argufy ^ ' says liis lioiK)ur, ' you ha'n't come lo tin- lirst mih- 8tr»ne.' ' And shouldn't for a cou])le oi' hours if we !;<■•']> idon:: this phiguey road,' says the l>aker. ' Then \ ou"\e h),-.i ,* sa\ s liis honour. ' P'r'aps,' .says the baker, ' but, anyway, T don't pay ; whv the horse ain't iiad a cluiiue.' ' We'll pur a end to this discussion,' says his lionour; 'gentlemen always pays thfir debt of honour, and I'll take care you pay yourn. .lust lay hold of the horse's head," he says to me. The linker made to hit bishor.se and bolt, but bis iionour outs uilli his " Slink's narrative was intenujittMl at this ]»oint by the approach of his master. " .Madam, I will trou])le you t(» let n e have my i)iil ul i,nrt'. Slink, saddle the mare," he said, lookin:^' angrily from one to the other. " You don't want a bill, my lin- fellow ; T rei k m vou're not likely to pay twice. Your .score conies to six shillings," said the hostess. "And dear too, for a scurvy pot-house. Take it out of that." lie pulled out a guinea with an air of contempt, and as the woman went off to fetch the change, he said to Slink : "What have yor betMi gossiping about !' " "She wanted to know your honour's name, but for the life of me I couldn't remember it, but " "Is that all?" " I wax Mist saying how we raced the baker, and I was just coming to tiie part where yi u i)r(tmis(d to blow out bis brains if he didn't behave like a geiit'eiiian " "Hang you for a fool ! Didn't I tell you you were to hold your tongue or give indirect answers ? " " To tell lies ! to be sure you did ; I forgot it altogether, but i 24 r,Tr:T- N'T ,n.\«i. ^ it ttlian t occur ngain, your lioiioiir, and tn rtinenibj^r it well Slink tranwfent'd u bfuii from lii.s neur-sidc to his ofT-sido Whoii the ho8tt'tis n'turned with tliH chnnge the Lieutennnt and his servant were in tlie saddle. (Jiving a key to the liostler, she said : " You ean open the yard pates, Hilly, the reekonin' hoofs ringing .sharp ancl clear upon the frost-hound road. The Lieiitt nant's mare was resting, Slink was fifty \ards behind him. The moment the coach had piis.sed, Slink ])iit his hor.se to a trot, and not during lo look behind him, said in a tone of fright; " Master, is the coach stopping '' " " No ; what's the matter ? ' " Is anyone looking round ? " " Yes, the pa.s.senger l)ehind the driver." " It's the Admirar.s son, Master Tom. For mercy's sake let's take to our heels." But Lieutenant Barnabas Crewe waited until the coach was out of sight, trying to fix in his memory all be could see of Mr. Thomas Talbot. CHAPTER VI. -well ON THE COACH. The coach had left Cambridge with four insides and two out- sides, besides the driver and guard. One of the outsides was a burly farmer, who sat on the seat next to the driver ; the other was Mr. Thomas Talbot. As tliey neared Hoyston, three female servants suddenly darted into the middle of the, road, and with unanimous cries and gesticulations signalled the driver to stop. " Peter! " called tJie driver, raising his chiu from his collar and turning his head about three inches. " Halloa! " responded the guard from beliind. " It's the gals' school ; your insides is full, ben't it ? " " Yes, but as three of the insides is males, I'll be bound they can make room for some gals. Males can be wonderful oblig- ing sometimes." As the coach pulled up, the servants threw wide open the gate of the garden as if they expected the coach to enter, iind ran up to the house beckoning and calling at the same time in a state of great excitement. There was a group of girls stnnd- ing at the door of the large square house kissing and bidding farewell to one in their midst. One meagre lady of middle age ( I 'I ! || i 1 1 1 1 1 1 I i i i 1 , . i ! '■ j I I 26 LIEl'TKNANT IV.riXAIUS. utood oil tlie ])atli iir,])I()iiii^'- Miss IlHzHlictli to IwiNtei). while a f^econd, equallv ni«'ii^(rt', f hough ]U)t< .•^ide, with a laugh. " That is admirable economy ! Tuck the edge under you so. Are vou comfortable H " "Quite". Are you?" ** For the first time in my life I am content." " Content ; is that all, sir ? " asked the young lady, pouting her pretty round under lip. " Happy, if you will; the words are synonymous in my mi id. \Vhen I am content I want nothing to altfr, and so I should like this coach to run on and on, until— until I saw you growing weary. Then my content would end." The young lady smiled very sweetly. " Such a pretty sentiment is worthy a more elegant nanu' than content," she said. •' I'lit you .see I am not elegant," said Tom ; " I'm the .^on ut' ill! Engli.sh .sailor, who to his last hour fought the natinn whose fripperies our fine gentlemen imitate, and T think \ have inherited from him mv hatred of elegance — tlie eleyimce of society which leads men to cloak kindly tho.ights and genentns actions in such trappings that one cannot distiiigui.-^h tliem from the artifices of the entirely hearties?! and selfi.sh ; that is the elegance I mean, and not the elegance which is born in the lily and the lady alike." Aguin the young lady smiled; then looking at Tom, she >aid with an ai:cent of regret : " You don't ilka society." "T like the society of Esquimaux; I prefer the society of Red Indians; I like the society of Swedes, of Dutclim -:>. of (irermans, of all simple people. I like the society of horses and dogs; but 1 hate the society of men who powder and paint , who have only just given up wearing mufTs, and who still shave their heads that they may wear the hair of somebody else." " I'A'eryone liasn't such nice hair as yours." " It's a good serviceable crop — keeps my head cool in summer and warm in winter, and so serves the purpose that Nature intended it for." 28 ui:n knant bahna ijas. ! i 1 i i ' i 1 i i 1 i II " You have (rnvelK'd nmcli ? " " Yes, ever wince I left college," " College," said tlie young lady to herself ; " he can't be the son of a common sailor, then." " I prefer travelling to hunting, and one must do something," continued Tom. " He must certainly be rich to travel for amusement," thought the young lady. " And I have no particular tnlent." " It seems to me you are in every way fitted for society," said she, respondino' to her own ti*ain of thought rather than to his last observation. . " ^Vell, ill being a fool, perhaps T am," he replied, laiigliing. The young lady looked vexed ; she was not accustomed to being laughed at. " 1 fear you are annoved." " No ; only [ don't agree with what you say. Society, with all its faults, is not below the hor.sts imd dogs which you pre- fer; and, if T iiiiiy he allowed to ssiy so, one who relinciiislies the society of English ladies f.lone, for Esquimaux and lied Indians, is not himself witiumt a fault " Tom opened his eyes in astonisliment to find a pretty young lady, who wa* clever besides, and suffi( ieiitly wise witlial to see the weak point in his cliaracter. *' I accept your repi-oof ," he said. " Conscience has accused me before now of e. otism in setting myself apart from the society which includes much that is good and admirable. After all, it is innate repugnance rather than reason wliich has actuated me. 13ut I owe you my apologies none the h ss ; will you accept them 'f " She drew Ijer hand from under the rug and gave it to him with a gracious smile. " And now our Inuids are linked," said Tom, " may we not introduce ourselves ? My name is Tom Talbot."' " And mine Elizabeth St. Cyr, better known as Ludy Betty." " t am your hidysliip's humble servant." .They cliatt-d or with increasing pleasure, for Lady Betty found that her companion wa.« not half so ill-mannered nor so priggish as she had at first believed. His dre.'^s was not fine, she felt no ring througli his glove when he shook hands vtith her, but still lie was a grand figure of a man, and his brown face, if it was not handsome, had yet a frank honesty and genial kindliness that won her favour. Had he been a fine gentleman she dared not have spoken to him so freely ; but it ON THE COAPII. 29 be the 'tiling," ement," ociety," er thau omed to y, with you prc- iqrislios 11 id lied V youJijr itliul to accused roiii the mini hie. n wliicb the 1' ss ; it to hiin y we not OS Ludv dy Betty ed nor so not fine, inds with is brown lesty and len a fine y ; but it was iin];o8sible to inaiiiliiiii silciic*' or resr^rve with one who had 80 much to say, and s^ioUe liis mind with («(ich candour. As for Tom Talbot, he was following in the footsteps of Hercules and Samson, and other mighty heroes, and having for ten years defied bi'ust and man, and, he it added, woman also, he was willing now to set his neck under the dainty foot of the pretty young lady at his side. " What bewitches me P " he asked himself, becoming ab- sorbed in his own reflections. ** Not Iier favo : her features are not handsome, they are only pretty, though prettier never existed. Her complexion is exquisite, hut the tint and texture of a skin are not sullicient to enthral one. Till flie present moment I preferred dark complexions and liated red hair, but angels in Paradise should have a brow as white as hers, and such soft, gold-red hair should curl upon it for an aureole. Her voice is sweet, but I doubt if slie could sing like that girl I met in Rome, yet she had no charms for me. I iiave said I could never like clever women, yet she is not so simple as a liundred I have known and forgotten. She is absurdly vain, that is certain, and atTects, in her school-girl way, the airs and graces of a fine lady. What is there to a I am alto^flher loo rough and ui:ornamental to be thought of IIS a sweetlieart 'f " Lady Jietty bhtsh^-d, then tossed her head, saying to her- self, " Sweetheart ! what a shockingly vulgar and old-fashioned expression ! why couldn't he say atimirer P " "IVler!" called tlie driver, raising his chin from his buttoned over-coat collar, and moving hia head two inches to the left as before. " Halloa ! " responded the guard. " Do you know him coming along on the brown boss P " " Know him, all ! and better pleased to see him by daylight than bv a iantliorn." " Why, it's Cap'n Sraall-pox, be'nt it ? " " Yes, but he's got a new boss, and a groom, if you please. Ilo! ho!" They passed Captain Barnabas Crewe, and the guard called out : " You're got your hay-de-kong, Cap'n." "And a lively hay-de-kong he looks too," said the driver. "There's more of the calf than the fox in his face." Tonj Talbot, lookinjr down at the " hay-de-kong " in question as they passed, exclaimed : " Toby ! my servant, or I'm very much mistaken." " Did you say he was your servant, Sir ? " asked the driver. " Yes, who is the man he is with, do you know." " Don't know what he calls himself — we call him Cap'n Small-pox. He's on the road, if all we hear is correct." ".A highwayman ? " " Highwayman — ah ! " The driver buried his chin in his collar. CHAPTER Vri. PROM RDMONTON TO WIXCHMORE. Abb th^re robbers about here — so near London ? " asked Lady • Betty, timidly. I i|ii r::().M Ei).M()NT()\ to winciimoue. 31 " Kolib.'is (ill ! ■' rospoii l«'il rlie w to b«' Hnfe. IIh tak«'H a hacknuv conch, or n po'-chaise t( be safe, and t«'n to oiu» th»"i drivor'a in partnnrHhip with the higli- wayman— and tliere you are!" fmdy Hetty put lit-r muff up to her mouth, with an involun- tary movement, and looked straight before her with scared fVHH, as if she saw a dreaded highwayman threatening u r. " I ask you again, Ludy Hetty, where you are going to stop? "said Tom Talipot, " At Edmonton. Hut oh ! T have done a thoughtless thing — and — and I don't know what I nhall do." " Tell me what you \\a,ye done." " I insisted on going hone to-day and mamma doesn't expect me until to-morrow." " Do you live in Edmonton P " "No, at Winchmore Hill, where that dreadful galloping 8omeb(xly was ween — and there will he nobody to meet me, and it is gettinjifdavk, and I tlioujfht [ sliould be qu - <• Hc ••)ifMl with h.'c.)iuiii;f i«lnc iince, Im. uiMu.* with ♦'viili'in sat it', act o". It WH^ I,, It lialf an h lur's drive fro»n F/ljiio'itnn to W'ii'ch- nioH', and low 'lalbu nt'vnr mhc(| t Iu> wliip once — lu' w t'!ii't| to l«tn{^th»'ii tiii' )d •a.'*;!'!' iinr-ii 'v, r.it.nT tlian Hliortnn :; iIh- edge of tlie iv' .«uii C'lnl I y •. I) • • •.: .•ting in a \»>Ili)W |,d".v btnond the dtiu'a'*» 'iei\\urk of puiph' bui^'is and wi»v»'ii twigs that borileif'l fin* ht»r./on wh^n tliey can e in si^ht o The ClieNiuits, which was ii.f naiuj .Mrs. r t. U}r had given to lier nioJiist esintc. " There, th»-ri' ! Do yon (»oe the cSosnnt trees on th»' righi . and t lie hon.1t' lying hack from iht- rDad with tlw blue smokf lifjin^' from l!n' ciiimnies i-* That is tny home,' cried Lady Jli'lty with excilt'nient ; "and ili"re, hIoxm the ap])lt'-tn'e8 at the back, yon cm jn»t pen the pip'on-liDn-". Ah, lo^tk ! there lliey gr, my p Lfeons, with Ma;,'^ie, the bluek-atid-white one, leading just ilin same as ever. And hiiik ! that is t/lilof barking. I bidieveshe knows I am coming." A t»'ar twinkled in her eye, and .slotMi on her hmgdark lasht's as slie rt'cognisid tli'.so familiar sounds, an 1 li-l. the full joy of reluming to tliem. Tom groaned " VVhy do you make that noise ? " s!ie iiv!<(«d, turning to him iV'*\ laiigliing, with a Lhish in her cheeks for the tear that diuimiij her ^ipllt. " ('l;loe, who hails your coming \\ith ph-asuie, will whin" when vou leave. Do }()U take it I am le^ stj;.iiive than a di)g, Lmly Hetty?" " I takt; it you are le.'^s fai.liful or you wotdd not run away from me," .ilie replied, aichly. Turning her eyes again towards her ho-.UH, s'le cried : " .\li, them'.s the gardener's boy sweep- ing up the (h'ad lea\es, and the gate is open. Drive right up to the door, and I'll keep my face behind my mutf, and astound nnimma by my sudden apixjarance." She leaned back in the tilbury as 'i'om drove past the gardener's boy and by the circular sweep t\iat led to the front of the house; but before they reacht-d the door she had abandoned her idea, and was craning her neck to catch the first glimpse of the window. "She is peeping behind the curtains to see who her visitors 8 j/ffr.^' t LTi: i ::'^.r:T i;.\:;^a"as. Ill III arc. I (Mil •• 'f licr ]u-ul.y li;.:i(l. All, tlit'iv she is! M and murmured an un »itelli- gil)U' sentence expressive of his pleasure in accepti.ig the invitaiion. y . " It is too late to see tlie chicks, and the rabbits, and pigeons to-niglit I suppw.se, but T nuist run and say ' how do vou do ' to ('hloe," said Ladv I'ett v, and awav she ran, leaving Tom Talbot with Mrs. St (fyr. Tlie irardener's boy was in. I ■.•'•(•p'dwl to tnul\f> In.s ioili»r, iMiii'ipof orrn'^irnil'v to !'-♦■ n ■» lie \ ;•!(<' of LiitJy Jit'Ux, Will) ai oir> nioiiielil tVf.f< kh 1 ) ;^' 1 i I, II' s '.xiiiit a:! l!,.' 1 itcvval by singing snnli lies of b.inad.-. W'licn he had Avaslied, rc-ti.'d hj.s hair, twA fiiokt-d tli;- i!u.'' fVi>ni his hoots, Tom h'tt liis room. At lliu! vcrv iiis'.iTiii. l.ar ■. I'i'ilv is-ned from hers upon t!.f> ot!;(>r siilc or tlie p!i.-^ii.';'f. Il(^ iiai lingered over liis ])'vpiiia' ions, .-lif liad hurried cv. r 'irts. Kach c-arrii'd a chami) r (aitili-, and as ihey h)\\t'ii, La 'y J'e.ty, li>'iwl d by 1;;e o.diiv of t.ifir p:j>i,iuu, law ..h.-",), i;nd said : '• \v'!.at a rapifal suV)ieft for a ]>ic1ure we iiV'Sciit. Mr. Talhot.-' •• A .-nirect that makes mo regvi t I am not a painter," an- swered Turn, regard n-.;' l-.er with nni'eifned adiriiijiti( n. Lady J'etty looked niore chavmir,^- than ever in her siirjiU* evening di-ef.s. l)ivesie!i of her furred poli'-se and tiiieic travel- ling coat, she naturally a],jjeared taller and more gia(eiir. Her dress was of paL' iilue muslin, .short-v»)iisted. high in the throat, ■with a Mli;"e tiieker, sh.ort in the ,>I'eve, Avh.idi v.as looped up with rul)y ribhn i, and s!in\ve I a .sr.owy frill In- neatlj. Every movement of her simple Cr.ure made a new, delightful curve, the elinglii:.'- fnl !s of he;- d: 'ss I'ollowin:' the dt'licale lines of body and limbs, llur long arms were ex- quisitely rounded and while. She knew that siie M'as lu ; ii!irid, and .>t(hid a moment to b.' admirefl. Thi:;*Iit'le exhibition of .var.ity e\]v;ii!if d how she liiid c :•).' to be fall 'd Larly iJe'ty. Tom otTeied his aim, ■which slie tool; with tlu' grace of a ]trii;ces.-. aii'i i^es.-eii led the stairs. It was the first time she )md ref-.'ived sneh atttiition, u?id being led do\vn in this nnimier exabed her imagination. " t)li, fancy," she said, " if tliere we:e candelabra all ido of lln> ,Ntaiis" .-he stojt])ed. looked at tb(' cai-dl'stick she had in 1 <-r baiid, and with a sdijden transition fmru grave to gay, addei! : " why iheii we *n( 1 . •lihiil 36 LinrTEXAXT BArJNABAS. i >., St. Cyr appeared at the doov, composing her featur 'S with a smile of welcome, as Tom Talbot aud Lady Betty came to the foot of the stairs. In the drawiiitr-room Tom looked al;out him with fear, for the light was only sufficient to show him the danger of his position. Cabinets of bnc-a-brac surrounded him on all sides, and tables loaded with china made two steps in a straight line perilous. The candles sputtered over the difficulty of main- taining their new-born light, and the smoke and flame of the fire in the chimney seemed not yet to have settled the question of ascendency. Tom would have infinitely preferred the kitchen, but as he perceived the room had been prepared in his honour, he concealed his thoughts and piloted Lady lietty to the tire-sido with no greater disaster tlian the smasliing of a very ugly china dog, which seemed rather to gratify than dis- please Mrs. St. Cyr, who declared it would be worth double mended, the fashion having set in for pieced china. Tonj felt a little shiver run through Lady Betty's arm as it rested upon his, and seeing at once that if they were to be com- fortable he must break through formal restraint, he took up the tongs and attacked the fire at once. " You will pardon me, madam," he said, "but I am habit- uated to making m vself at home under less hospitable roofs than you"s, so I take in our first acquaiurance the privilege of an old friend." He knew how to make a fire and coax it into its most gener- ous mood ; so the temperature of the room quickly mounted. Dinner, wliicli was to have been, served at five, was not announced until half-pitst six — a delay which Tom could regret on Lady lielty's account sfdely, since all that they were called upon to sutYcr in the form of cold and lumtrer was entailed bv lus own rasline.^s in accepting an nnproniptu invitation. How- ever, tlie interval was not insiqipcjrtuble, tor Mrs. St. Cyr was half the time absent —the production of u " genteel dinner " calling for her per.'^onal superii.lendeiue— and Tom and Lady Hetty found it just as ag eealde chatting before a (ire as upon tliP top of a stagH coacli. Lady lietty did her best to charm the hunpoving visitor, and when a sweet girl smiles oi ly a (loth or gourmand can look and think of eating. Nevertheless, Tom led the ladies intotiie dining-room, and took his place at the round table with a lively feeling of sati:-faction. The dinner was elaborate with iivumerablo lide dishes: bowover, there was plenty to eat, and Tom's appetite was in a condition to appreciate everything. He would not listen to t"! AT A" ITS. Mrs. St. Cyr's pro^it-t' apolofi-'u-s, l)iit p'-jiisfd Hvci-yliiiny, iml Uedured that no King of France cuuhl liave bfiur c.n-k than hers. 1( was not until the (l»',«;sf>vt wiis sHrve'(l tlint Turn fontid fin.' to examine tlie clniracter of Mrs. Si. ("vr. who, now that thi' nilinarv cares were removed fronj her thonijfiits. henfan to(lispl:i\ the qualities of her niiiid. Ii was not lontr hel'on' he forint^il an estimate. She talked of notiiing- hut fashiou.s; ot th • movements in polite cirrles ; of court halls: of forth' innin^^ marriages in high life, and tattle about th^^ aristo-racy, wh;>> • names and family co.;:i'3;:tions she ."-eemeJ to have at h r fingers' ends. " I am agreeably snrpri;"d to find fr'^>i th'^ faet th t yi wear a ribbon, Mr. Talbot.'' slie said." that th^ ' Ladv's Mirror' is in error respecting the fashion in wliich pei)]ih' of /o / wi-ai- their hair. Tt was actualK stated that peru |iies, •• . •»• it hr evening wear, had gone out, and that th ' Priii.-e of U'al \s li 'ij had his hair cut close bohind and cnidi'd low on th • roi'-h"" m1 ■ "That may well be, madam," repl ed Tom, sni'livi, " f i- I haven't had my liead drissed for t.'ii dnys, and then bv a rustic at Cambridge. J'revioiisly f hid i>i'"i absent fr 'in England for five years, so I canuot prologs to know auythii g of our fasliious." " You have travelled a great deal." said Mrs. St. Cyr, l.-d by curiosity to diverge from her favourite theme. " Yes, my father was sr-arcely ever at liome, and T sto-^'d s;.- good a chance of meeting liim in n foreign port as in England. " " Your father was a sea-captain, I presume." "An Admiral. He fell in tlie King'.-) service lie^ire Cadi/." "An Admiral! " Mrs. St. Cyr cast an expiixsixe ghiicc .t her daughter, and said witii a sigh. " I'oor genilenian I I'.iit could not your friends or rela; ions persuade vou tostav amongs; them." "Kelations; I have absoliitcly non« tliat I know of. M -. old friends are scattered: I IoukI on^v two of mv f)hl cc .i- panions at Cambridge, and my new friends are only just di>- covered." Mrs. St, Cyr bowed, sayinrr to herself, *' No fi'i-'^d^. ro relations, and lusfulht'r an admiral, (h'ad ! pooi-yoiini ii.-m. he deserves to have frieuils, and lie shall not go without w.iile I live." "It mu'^t be dreadful to have no home," mir-miiM | L:< 'y Betty, looking at Tom with pity in her soft, sv nni*') 'tic t-ves. " You make me think so by showi:iix me how d.dightful a home may be," answertd Tom. as UZVT r.VANT BA i;KAT5AS. VOll '•May I prp to offor you my bospi'.'ility while remain in JCnglaiid, Mr, Talbot- h " usiiecl Mrs. St. Uyr. "I shall be delighted to avail myself of it wlienever a chance permits ; but foi some time business must occupy ray attention to the exclusion of pleasure. I have come to Eng- land to settle with my father's legal adviser as to the dis- position of the estate which comes to me. I stand in the peculiar position of a man with a white elephant — I don't want it, and I can't conveniently give it away." Mrs. St. Cyr itched to know more, but Tom was thougl ; fully engaged in scraping crumbs into a heap with his dessert-knife. Lady Betty came to her mother's assistance. ** You excite our curiosity, Mr. Talbot, and it is only fair to us poor women that you should tell us more. We have no white elephants," said she. " It is very simple. My wants are supplied by a yearly expenditure of three hundred pounds ; I could have lived con- tent on half that sum. And now I am told that I have to make use of a yearly income of three thousand pounds, Ijcsides a Hall with thirty-nine rooms, and a park and grounds of a thousand acres. What am I to do ? " Mrs. St. Cyr held her breath ; Lady Betty's eyes sparkled like t'-.i, diamonds her mind dwelt upon as a possible elucida- tion of the vexatious problem this interesting young gentleman was called upon to solve. ** An estate, a Hall with thirty-nine rooms, and three thou- sand a year! " murmured Mrs. St. Cyr. " I cannot — I should not wish — to dispose of the old Hall ; it has borne the family name since John Talbot received Queen Elizabeth in it." " It would be sacrilege ! " exclaimed Mrs. St. Cyr. " I certainly cannot live in it. Odd as I am, I could not abide the solitude of I'ving alone in a great place like that." The ladies did not see the necessity of living alone, but they held their peace, and Tom continued : " I shall expect Doctor Blandly to help me out of my difficulty." " Doctor Blandly ! the name is familiar to me." " Tt is quite possible ; he lives at Edmonton." " I know a Doctor Blandly, of Edmonton, who is a surgeon ; he attended to my gardener when he hurt himself with a scythe. I remember the fact by the extremelj' uncivil answer he returned when, seeing how well he had cured my gardener, I wrote to him bidding him call to advise me on the palpitations to which I am subject. He sent word to say iiiil H' ,., i!-r\ AT " riiK c:i!;.s::r'i, 89 he could give me no better advice than to er.t nioderately and not lace tight." "It is probably the Miirit'," replied Tom, maintaining a becoming gravity with an elTort, "Doctor J^laiidly was originaMy a physician, but anuiyaing a coiniiefence while yet a younj; man, he prave up his practice and iflircd to his yirosent res'Jence at Edmonton todevote himself to totally and tishin^. Ilfc is an odd, sweetly-disposed oM gentlennm, wlio professrs to be a C3'nic and misanthrope; but, nevertlieless, his innate foodness asserts itself on the slightest, occasion, and is so well nown, that he has almost as uiuclt eniployiiieni in niiiiisterin;^- gratuitously to the maladies of the ] oor viioiind him, as he previously had in attending to '.iis wealttiy ])!iiients. lie is a shrewd and honest man, nr:d !;is friends liave taken his advice whenever they found themselves in ditlicult positions. My father was his school-fellow, and it is thus that Doctor Blandly came to conduct the management of his property and estate. I hope he will continue his services in n)y bvlialf. I intend seeing him to-night, if you will permit me to U'ave at an early hour." "Oh, Mr. Talbot, you will not leave to-ni^jht, the rorids are dangerous," said Lady I'etty. " I shall have less fear in encoiintering da)iger than this afternoon, for you will not be imperiUed." Mis. St. Cyr had been musing; slie said suddenly: " Mr. Talbot, I am about to ask a great favour of you, one that I feel scarcely warranted in a.sking upon sudi sliort acquaintance." " You will do me great honour, madam, by such a mark of confidence." " Will you introduce me to Doctor l»hindly 'f " " Tliere is only one reason for hesitation, arnl that is tlie Doctor's avowed repugnance to the society of ladies.*' " P>ut you said tliat he professes a repugnance to mankind, yet he assists them." " That is quite true." " I should like tot^ll you my reasons for wisliing- tlie advice of such a man as Doctor Blandly, if it will not troiibh' you to hear them." Tom Talbot made a gesture of complacent attention, and Mrs. St. Cyr, after a few minute-' tliought. continu^'(l ; "Since my husband's decease I luive lived in i-etii-enionl, and, as you see, witli economy, in (U'der that the fortune' he left should accumulate interest, < I . 1 1 I i. ';•!:: I i ij opportunity of forming suitable connections and friends l.'efore my death." " Mamma, dear, don't talk of dying, you are a young woman now," tiaid Lady r>etty, the tears .^pringiiio' in her eyes. ** My dear, you do not know what 1 suller with the palpita- t ions." Lady Hetty drew her chnir nearer to her mother, and slipping lier hand under the tahle, took her mother's, and held it with ii loving pressure, wliile Mrs. 8t. Cyr continued: "The attorney who has hitherto managed my affairs died hist week, and his partner is so old and siupid that I do not i-are to trust my financial arrangements to him. 1 know no .ine else, but it is absolutely necessary tluit I should find some honest adviser at once ; my child's fovtiine depends upon it." " In that case I feel sure Doctor Dhindly will advise you." " If you will introduce me as your friend." " I shall have great pleasure in doing so." "But mamma cannot go this evening!" exclaimed Lady I>etty ; " and so, Mr. Talbot, you must stay all night, and take lier to Edmonton in the moining." Tom accepted without waiting for further persuasion. He wlio would go out of his way to oblige an old woman, could not Iiesitate to stay in comfortable quarters to give pleasure to a young one. CHAPTER IX. NIGHT AND MOBNINQ. Mrs. St. Cyr kept a genteel pony-chaise, and as this would serve to convey her and Mr. Talbot the following morning to Doctor Blandly 's, the tilbury was sent back to Edmonton, the gardener, who took it, heing instructed to fetch the valise which Tom liad left at " The Bell." " What time will you be called in the moniLig, Mr. Tal- bot ? " asked Mrs. St. Cyr, when they were separating for the night ; " we usually breakfast at ten. Will nine o'clock be too early for your hot water ? " "Not a whit, madam." " I rise at half -past seven," said Lady Betty, archly. " Good-night." Mrs. St. Cyr followed Lady Betty into her room, and having closed the door silently and carefully, her first words, spoken in a low, impressive tone, were, " What a pity he hasn't a title." NKJIIT AND MOIJNING. 41 '11' Irchly. having jipoken " V> hy, iDninma? " asked lindy I'etty, willi u blush. "Eec!.u.«e tlien he woiiM bo absolutely perlt-ct, ray love. The son of an admiral with an est:ite, a Hull with three tlioii- sand rooms, and an income of ihirty-nint! pounds-I niciin a hall with thirty-ninf rooms, of course, and an income of three thousand pounds. I am sure he desprves a titlo, and it is ten thousand pities he hasn't one. However, he has* a pedigree, and that is a great thing. His figure is quite superb, and he is extremely beauteous." " I don't think one can call him beauteous, mamma.'' "Well, my love, we may difler in that, but I assure you when he was telling us that he was absolutely without relations, and had more money than he knew what to do with, T thought I had never seen a more handsome man in my life. And then his manner ! " " I do not think his manners perfect. He is at times brusque." " It is that whiel^ gives him such an air of distinction. One cannot expect a man in position to agree with everything one says, and have a perpetual smile on his face as if he were measuring off a dozen yards of bombazine like your Uncle William. By-the-bye, my love, you must be careful never to mention your Uncle William's name : it would ruin our pros- fiects to be known as the connection of a man in the drapery ine." " Mr. Talbot seems to entertain a thorough dislike to society." " My child, it is not of the slightest importance what a man likes or dit^likes before his marriage ; it is afterwards that a woman has to conform them with her own." " You have already settled that I am to marry Mr. Talbot then," Lady Betty said, laughing. " Hush, my darling, you will be overheard. I certainly know no one more eligible than Mr. Talbot at present. It is certainly a great drawback his having no title, and to be sure many merchants have thrice his income ; at the same time there are many noblomen who are as rich as the wealthiest commoner. I should like my son-in-law to have a title if it was only baronet; a lord w^uld be better still, but ray taste has always been for earls. I read the other day tliat the Marquis of West- minster's fortune is prodigious." "Then there's little hope for Mr. Talbot," Lady Betty laughed again. " My love ! Mr. Talbot will think you are laughing at him, and I would not for the world displease him. He may be of the greatest service to us, for though we take the most genteel I'i'li^ j 1 . 42 l;;:i'tlnant bahnabas. house i» Pifviidilly, we cannot ohtain friends without an in- troduction, Hiid Mr. Tiilhot mu8t have acquaintances, liesides, it is 11 great advantage to a young hidy in society to have an admirer to start with ; it attracts attention and collects others, like a fly on a treacle-paper." " But Mr. Talbot will leave Knglanil as soon as his affairs are settled hy Doctor Blandly. He has oidy seen me oiu'e for a few hours, an Is and bolted off to the kitchen. It was a moment of disappointment to Lady Betty ; but her eyes following the deserter fell upon the hutch of her favourite rabbit to whom she at once transferred her affection. Presently, with a whii'l and a flutter, the covey of pigeons settled on the roof of an adjoining shed. "Oh, my pretty pigeons," she cried. Then she called Tom, whom she had sent off to the garden. "Mr. Talbot, Mr. Talbot ! never mind about pulling up any more cabbages - run into the stable for me quick, and bring some grain for my birds." Tom obeyed, and brought a sieve of oats from a bin in the stable, which she took without so much as a single word of thanks, for she was talki i^/ to the pigeons in terms of tender blandishment, to whicli they responded in voices not more soft than hers, as they strutted and pirouetted on the ridge tiles. At the siiht of grain they came fluttering to her NT illT AND MORNING. 46 feet, and Maggie, a blnok-nnd-wliite patriarch, bolder tlian the rest, flew up, and ute from iier extended huud. It was a pretty picture — tlie young girl amidst her pigeons — which Tom looked upon with silent delight. "And she is to be torn away from these innocent delights, and taught to like the heartless pleasures of asonsi'l»'as world ! " he said to himself, with a sigh. "She is a child and 'tis a shame to make her a coquette." He did not recognise that the beauty of Lady Betty's childishness owed its piquancy to her coquetry, and that hud she been merely childisn, she would have been as uninteresting as the peasants of Flanders, whose extreme innocence he had frequently condemned for stupidity. Flad she not been very pretty, it is tolerably certain tie would not have cared a jot whether her tastes were simple or otherwise. IJe still felt sentimental when Lady Betty, setting down the sieve of oats, said : "Feed yourselves now, dears. Lady Betty's fingers are get- ting blue in her gloves. Come, Mr. Tulbot, I will leave all my darlings for you, because — I am cold. Let us have a brisk walk, there is still plenty of tin:e. "We can wnllc down the hill and see if the ice bears. By-tlie-bye," she added, stt-pping along beside Tom with a quick, springy step, " we were talk- ing about the ice — ah, ye-s, and you promised to teuch me skating, at my earnest entreaty." " Wlien Cldoo barkid, and you for;,''ot all about mo." "That was decidi'dly ru.Ie," Lady Betty laughed; "but you don't look very vexed with me." " One could not see you so innocently happy and remeinbt-r one's vexation. Will you not be very horry to leave your pigeons and domestic creaturess i' " "Oh, I shall be more than sorry to leave my pets I do not mind admitting to you that I shall have nioM than one long cry wlieu we st'panite." "These simple pleasures seem to harmonize so p^-rfrctly with your disposition." " Ah for that, my dit^position is of an ac-ommodating kind, and harmonizes very well with nearly everything that is agreeable." " Seeing you among your present pleasures, I cannot imagine how you will relinquish them." "Ah! you should havn seen me with a doll," said Lady Betty gravely. " You mi;,''ht have tliought it would ha\e broken my heart to give it up. I buried it with tears, Mr. Talbot." T 1". LIE. iiXANT ];a::na::a^. Ml , t M ; ; 1 , ! ;!•■ \\\\:\ i' !i:: •• I'uiH il!" " •« IS l!i • (liiv iiiiiiiiniH hiiiil I must Iuivh h lon^ fro<;k niuilf, I Hindi' up uiy luiitd tor tlii' Nucmii't!, itml thn iixmiuii^*' it cuiiu* ln>!u<' friun tlu' flrcssmiikiTf, I bur*i«'(| ui\ i!ull (in«i niuuy u iiiiu> I wiiM t*>iii})ifil to uxliuino it. It lies in tiiu gruve nuxt to my ciiiinry." •' Hut n (loll 18 not tliH siitiu- H« liviupf crPHtun's." "No." Lady IJt'lfy fii^lu'd, mid then with a tonw of ra«iijf- U'ltion: " K\«Mytliin>f in it.s lurii. l-'iiwi «ugiir-nti(;kH, tlit-u (Ii'IIn, ilien pij^cijiw and nii.fulH/' " ^ (lu will not make a go(»d *'Xoliaii;T;n I fonr for tin* lattrr." "Why!'' l>o you imi tliitiK u.fn und women uic uiure intel••^stil)!T thari rabl'itn and ]>ip'f)nx ■ " " I inui^fine that you are not debarred from either in the country." "Ah!" said Lady I^'tty, sent out iou.sly, "that is hecnn e vou know HO lillle aljoul it —look at poor inamnni, hIk* has lived hiTc ever since papa's death — nearly fourteen years, and slie knows iihsdhilely no one but the clergyman, who only talks al)oul the lake of brimstone and fire, and the deaf uentlt'inan that lives in the house down there, and his chief re(M)mmendati()n is that ho never talks at all. A country lift) is delijihtful if you can always have a friend stayinf( in th'.» house, and if you can leave it for fiveorsix niontlisin tljeyour." Tom lau^lii.'ii, despite himsilf- - Lady iJetty continued: " "NVhy (io you tliink a (.ounlry life so suitable to me-^ because, people living in the country are usu'illy so intensely stupid y '' "A country life is allowed to be innocent and beautiful, and therein it secMiied suitable to you!" " Don't you t hink its charms are overdrawn ? Poets who have written mo.^t about it live in towns and exaggerate the little they have s»'en to admire. I sliould like to see it as they see it -a little. One would think liiat the ann always shines, .md roses continually till the air with perfume; and lambs skip about to the tunes played by clean .shepherds. They do not know what six weeks' bad weather in an i.solated house is, they never saw a shepherd in the stocks for being drunk and using ba M(.'::.:n ;, 47 iimiy it Clime 1111(1 niiiuy u griive noxt to ton*' of rwijf- r-HtickH, tlu'H r llii; liiltrr." en tiio luure fitlier in the lit is lif'cnii I! mim, slit' li;iH vii yt'urs, uii'l an, who only jiiid tho dfuf and his chief \ country life staying in thu 18 in the your." ntinund : tahlo to me-»- ,y 80 intensely and beautiful, l^oets who have Biate the little 15 it as they see aya shines, and nd lambs skip They do not lated house is, ling drunk and B cries of a ^>ig constitutes its p you indoors, I if it, wouldn't try is disagree- "\o. T love the country m well (i« you do— perlin)-H hrttef, M»*. 'raMxit, (tr you would Nclilt' d twii ii-< a irsj citalil ■ hermit with h^ss fear of enciiiui'i'riii)^ th" livt-K i..i iuIh'Ih of-society whom you so dclcst. NN'hat I wish you to iliiiik if, that Ihnv<' aspirations to n \\'\'^\u r form of lifo than that whos*- most aprei'uhh^ rt'^in'scntativcs li\(> in lii:tc'ics and Kfiiiirls." 1'om was astonished by the waruUh and siroiij; s»'M«« of Lady Jlotty. He had simmi her fufe co«iUt'tt isli and rlnldi^h, but now lie found it aiuuiatid with an iiiii'lliu'i'iii Ii;^lit, and almost st'\ere in its*«'uniiv-.t f\p:>'>sii)n. '* Theie is n();iiin>r iircttii'i* tliaii a brood of yonc^' niMiits, or a nest of blue «'p;r.s — no sound sweccr tliiiii (he tir-i song of the ni|?litingale, but it would be w ("•••nd to limit my smyi's to the enjoyuHMit of them when l'ro\ ich-nci' Inis given me the in- telligt'nce to a])pveciiite Raphael and Mo/art. I r|ri not ]>rofess tliat for high ohjects alone I ])i'elfr lile to sechi^iou. 1 am fond of dress, fond of tidkiiig ncjuwciise, and hiU]'"tiiiig at frillos, fond of farce as well as ti-ngcdy — tliouifh I ha\i' iievt-r yet been to a theatre except in my dreams -fond )1' g;i.''yai)d niovt'TiuMit, fond of dancing, fond of having my eyivs open for eighteen hours out of the twenty-four. / /i/iff i/fi/rnuif/, and now you know why a country life is not snitnbli' to my di^po-jiion." " You are very earnest," was all 'r(»m citiild suy in comment. " I feel very earnest. You have rou. ed mo by your contempt for society." " You will give me credit also for sinc»M-ity." "Yes, but not for impartiality. You are quite narrow and prejudiced. You adhere to an opinion wliich by vour own showing, was formed ten vears a;.;^o, and which lias been exaggerated by seclusion and — if I ma; atld it without offending— ignorance of what you condemn." "1 am afraid that you are only tow just — I was a young man, and I believe, even more conceited than [ am now, when T settled that I was too good ff)r society." " In that case you ought, in iuslic(> to your.'elf, to reconsider the subject, and so when yon have tauglit me to skate, you will yet have sometlilng to do beff)re leaving Fdigland. Ah! here is the pond. Hold my hand and let me set* if the ice is strong." Tom took her liund and lu^ld it firmlv as the urjrency of the case require suid. Safer indeed for licr, but no; for Tom. A thrill ran through his veins as he clasped the beautitul arm. of which he had dreamed, and he felt a strange gratification in sustaining tlieir mutiial position of dependence and support. Before he relinquished his hold he had reconciled himself to the necesaity of postponing his departure from England. CHAPTER X. ▲ VISIT. "Mb. Talbot, how do I look ? " asked Mrs. St. Cyr, as the chaise drew near Fidmoiiton. Tom looked at his companion in order to give a fair answer to a question wliich was atked witli the utmost gravity. Mrs. St. Cyr was still pretty ; her complexion was particularly fresh and fair, which, but for her stoutne&s, would have made her appear ten years younger than she was. The few artificial touches of pe)icil and powder were unnoticed by Tom's uu- practiseil eye, and he answered with perfect candour, and in a tone whicli carried cojiviction : *' Madam, you look extremely well." "I am glad to hear it, for 1 assure you I attach a great deal of importance to the interview with Doctor Blandly, and wlien a woman wishes to interest a gentleman in her busines.'- affairs, she cannot be too particular about her personal appL'arance." Tom smiled. Mrs. St. Cyr continued : " I assure you there is truth in my assertion. How is it that charitable ladies qan never raise subscriptions ? it is because charitable ladies as a rule are dowdy. Can you tell me if Doctor l:5Iaudly sees many ladies ? " "Scarcely any. A lady never enters his h.ouse — if he can prevent it — and he refuses invitations where it is possible he may meet ladies. I have heard him speak occasionally, and not in amiable terms, of Mrs. Baxter, the wife of thelleverend John Baxter, a pariicular friend of his." ** Mrs. Baxter ! I know her by sight — a woman who looks as if she had been buried for a week, and unfortunately resuscitated. If Dr. Blandly has seen only that woman, I am not surprised at his aversion to the sex." " I hope you will convert him, madam." "1 am not without hope. It is a great advantage to know W ill 11! ||*I I A VISIT. 40 looks inately I am know his character beforeliand — he is vei\ loud of bi.iaiiy, you .said, I think Y " '* Yes; and of fishing also," "Unfortunately I know nothing iiljoiit fishing; liappily I have some knowledge of gaidejiiiig. A ugh! what a horvihlc smell." "Some one is burning weeds." " It is shameful to allow such a public nuisiuice ; it is worse than a brick-kiln. I shall carry ihe odour in my dress, and that will undo everything. .And r,o\v look tii the smoke I John, John!" she called to tlie gardi'iicr who, dressed in livery, was driving the chaise. " l>rive quicker. Beat the horse ! Quick, quick, I shall be suiot lieied. I must be c(jvered with smuts," "I assure you your complexion lRi.s not suffered." "And my bonnet, Mr. Taibi t I-* 1 tried im lialf a dozen before I found one to my liking, and tiiis liglit Leaver must catch the blacks, I am sure ! " ~ " Not a speck, madain. and we have passed the smoke." " Dear me, we are just in the high road, and close to Doctor Blandly's bouse. Let us drive the other way for a few moments that the smell may escape from my clothes. Turn to the right, John. And after all the precautions I have taken." "Doctor Blandlv being a gardener may not dislike the smell of burning weeds.' " It is impossible any human being can endure such a stench as that. However, I have my lavender-water with me, and if I sprinkle some of that over my dress it may at least counteract the smoke. Ah, I have brought civet by mistake ; but it will have the same effect. 'Tis an elegant perfume. Can you tell me if Doctor Blandly has any other likings, Mr. Talbot ? " " He likes cribbage, and punch, atid a pipe." " Tliank you. If I were a general 1 should never offer battle to my enemy until I was thoroughly acquainted with his weak points. I think we may turn now. John 1 turn round — stop at the first house past * The I'ell.' " A sudden change in the wind wafted the offending smoke down the lane which ran between Dr. Blandly's garden and " The Bell," and blew it across the high-road at the ^ery moment the chaise was passing. " Oh, if I were a man ! " said Mrs, St. Cyr, through her closed teeth, " how I would swear ! " The condition was not much better when they stopped in front of Doctor Blundly's houiue, a thick cloud of smolie tilled the garden. m r.l'XnONANT rA:JNA!5Af?. lil 0' 1 I \ Mi ';' •• We \\ ill pass tiiro ;;'i i; JIM fj'iii'.ly a.-* poss'iljl,!," fijiiil Tonl, liiiii(liii<( .Mils. St, Cyv iKtiu ilu' '•hiii'-;', " I kiu)\v I lie sccvt't of opt'iiiiif^' \\h'. friint Viiiwt{'oat, !i pail* of fu>, with a fearful consciousness that it waa the civet which offended the doctor's nostrils. "Oh, there's something else ;" said the Doctor, snilling the air about him with dissatisfaction, and pulling his siin'Y-bo\ from his breeciies pocket. "Take a pinch, mv boy? Hum! Do you snuff, madam Y " " No. 1 hear that snuffing for ladies is going out of fashion iu polite circles." 4-3 ^iiil ".T^" vf i\ I i II 52 LIEUTENANT I.MlNAr.'.S. '• Mrs. Raxtev .^;uiff.s." " Mi\s. Baxter ! One (vmnot be surprised at her doing any- tliing' that is uiipleasunt." " riuit's wliat I !^ay, madam, and the pardon can't deny it ; nil he can say in her behalf is that she's no worse than -^ther women. Pouyh ! llaiig that bone! I can't get the smell of it out of ray nose." " I am sure I can't tell wliat there is to object to in the smoke, Doctor iilandly," said Mrs. St. Cyr ; "it is very — oh, very refreshing and aareeable.'* "Tliat ia not the only -subject on which we should probably disagree, madam." "On the contrary," said Mrs. St. Cyr, anxious to provoke a controversy which might offer her an opportunity of yielding, " I think we should agree npon most subjects. To begin with, f am passionately fond of botany." " 1). » you dig, madam Y "' " Dig I Oh, Doctor, how can you ask such a question ? " *' Deeause no persons can love botany mdess they do. I advise you to try dig;:iiiig. Well, my hoy Tom, so you have coiu! to see me at last. .And the Admiral ha.s paid the debt of Naiuve — the only del)r lie ever bad — and I have lost an old fri nM of [ your advice; that is a sufficient explanation." " Oil, you are in trouble, madam," the Doctor said, with less acerbity in his tone. " Indeed 1 am. The legal adviser T have relied upon exclu- sively for many years is dead. I have lived in seclusion for so long that I know absolutely no one to whom T might apply for advice, ami my affairs are of a delicate nature, which I should hesitate to lav before an ordinary — a selfish — a " " Enough, madam, we will go into the library at once. Tom, you know vhe house ; make yourself at home, my boy. By this door, madam, lleuiih ! I'll be hano-ed if that stench hasn't got in the house!" Opening the library door to Mrs. St. Cyr, he called to the gardener's wife • " Martha, tell Jerry to go and 1 ook to that fire, there's something got into it that's ^fp? OIL AND VINEGAR. 53 ?any- ■ny it ; ^ther nell of in the •y— oh, •obably ■)voke a ielding, n with, do. I ou have debt of an old Btiiilving — that's poi.soDinff the Ii(U!t»e out. It must be the bones of that pike I caught last Tuesday." Mrs. St. Cyr felt sure it must be her civet and hastened to divert the doctor's attention, and as Doctor Blandly closed t he door, said : " Ah, you are a great ang-ler, Doctor Blandly. I must f:n\ I know ven- little about the scieuce.'' "Thank Ileaven !" murmured Doctor Blnndly, in pnrentlu'sis. " I have only fished once, and then sat all day in a punt id caught nothing." "Nor any one else on that occasion, I imagine." Tlicii he added to himself, "Good Lord, how she would talk I A woman in a punt for a day's fij^hing. ^)ne might as well liave a boA -. th a set of clappers and a liorse pistol." " To tell the truth I prefer domestic nnnisenients. Crihbnge for examjde. I could spend all my time playinij crilibnoe." " Glad to hear it, madam. I'm sure you coiddn't .s} end your time to greater advantage. Now, if you please, we will come to the purpose of your vit;it." Doctor lllaudly snitYed tlie air, looked around him fiercely, took a pinch of snuff, and pulled his chair up to the table. J!' 1 Q wished gent le- tor with :oncealed that is a with less (on exclu- lion for so apply for should ,"f ice, Tom, boy. Bv at stench )r to Mrs. tell Jerry ^o it that's CHAPTER XI. OIL AND VIXKGAR. "Wit AT I am about to revtvil is in strict oonfidetice. Doctor Blandly, in perfect reliance upon your secrecy." Mrs. .Si. Cyi said, laying emphasis on the words secrecy and confidence. " You need be under no apprehensicMi, for in tlu* first place a man knows how to hold his tonLiue,and in the second he very seldom hears anything from a woman that i.*^ worth repeating," said the Doctor. Mrs. St. Cyr seemed to gulp down her feelings with difllculty before recommencing. "I must tell you at the commencement." she said at length, lowering her voice, " that my hn-Viind s name was Brown. At his death, for reasons which will lie obvious to you prt - fiently, I resumed my maiden name. This fact is unknown to any one, my daughter being too youn v at the time to under- stand matters of this kind, and my life for the past fourteen vears having been a secluded one. There is nothing culpable m changing one's name; nevertheless, I have kept the fact •ecret even from my daughter." MET Tr;NA>'T TWyAT^Af, I 'I :i Si !i:' III ii'i 1 I ! i (:i,;i 'il[l i[' I : If:' I'l ;N M) ! . r 111 IF She paufee'l, fxpe('iiiif»- perlia]»< that Doctor Hlanflly would » xprexs iiis (Jisiippioval ; but he suid nothing. 1J»< ncxided as a .•vign for Mr.s. St. Cji' to continue. A doctor and a lawyer ai'e uccu^torned to hearing conft'.s.si(.»iis, and areoJily anxious to avoid increasing the enil:arra.ssment of their client.s,wi\ic}i toofrequent- ly prevent.sthem fi-om making a candid statement of their case. " My father lield a good position in society. He lived con- stantly up to his means. I had many lovers, for I wae con- sidered pretty tlien, Doctor Dlandly.'' The widow paused atj-ain for th»! Doctor to maiie a compliment, if there was a spark of ^alhmtry in liis nature. Doctor Blandly iished out a .stick from the miscellaneous c(dlection of rubbish in liis left hand pocket and a knife from his right, and looking at. the stick thoughtfully, opened his knife and proceeded to trim it up for the purpose of marking the spot where he had sowed some seed. With a sigh, Mrs, St. Cyr continued : " My father died suddenly, leavinj^ me penniless. My lovers forsook me all except one whom I had encouraged the least. He was the poorest, and his name was IJrown. Thei-e vi-as no choice between marrying him and starving. 1 married him; three years alter our marriage my husl)and died.'" "The wisest thing lie could do. ''said Dr. Blandly to himself, as he cart'fidly shaved his stick. "You follow nie. Sir ?" asked Mrs St. Cyr, seeing no sign of interest in the Doctor's face. "Perfectly. 1 never heard a woman keep to the point so well. Tliree ynars after n! uTiage your Imsband died." Mrs. St. Cyr, thus encouraged, proceeded : " I loved my liiisband, and did my best to make him happy; I also loved my ( hild. loved her with all my heart, and T love lier now -not witii the passion of a young mother and a widow, I ut still with all tlie love of my heart." The Doctor ceased to scrape the stick as he heard those words, which were uttered with honest warmth, and looking up, found tliat tlie powdered and painted lady's lips were twitching, and her eyes wet with standing t(>ars. " T hope your daughter deserves your love, madam," he said kindly. " It is impossible not to love her, Doctor, for she is not only good and affi^ctionate. but aUAiiij j .loj [(Uifsnoni u^% JO pujdn.T 11 ({jiAV .iii<»A II pti-ipunii |i(,f>i.) jo .[ oj Hh'iAV [ '.iiv^' 'i(4 uiijipi^ aAji o| oiuiijuoa noA \nm 'tuupiuu 'si o.JiApo aj\; „ : pO|[daj A'[pUBl££ JO^OUQ '}[.)! )S sn[ .oiiiuuuuj [lUS ,j ^ e.fnj[OA\ uA\u .lUuA pun a.>(i[i>iii!p ano.^ JO seauiddBij aip aoj noA ysiApB oj otu ijsiav uoa oq „ j^*90TApB .moA .loj s'uoixmi OS un? \ .\i\.\\ jiub 'puBiS I qoiqAv ni uoiij^oa rjq^ avou>[ uua '.iiy 'a\()\t •p,».i{iuiii{ %\\j^\(i 04 ^uuotu pino.vv '\i 'i[.jiioo B %day[ yuo ji puu 'aiwA B poapunq xis aepuu a.)uiuiit)ddi! Auii ojpiui [»[noj .)a\ jt jqnop I \\n\\ 'saiiaA 8;b[ jo os du ouoS OATiq .Hiiiai[ pun »5|lmj^[ ,, •aoT^OBjsijns JO pou b q^iAv pt^puodsa.! .10400Q iH[j, •04i8inhai 81 jBiiA B paipunt] ao.iq; unqi Q.ioiu 'op\j« fv^ip^d ui aAq pu» 'paa--|83/^ eqi in v|i?4 <i.i.tiui aq4 A'q pap[.)iA auio.:)ui aq4 uiq4iA\ aAi[ pUB *A4ai.O()8 uioaj .uqvu o) 'spinij .)q!|ud aq; iii uins siqj ^nd 04 pauiuiaa4ap ] 'a.nuuj >\l'ini-> aui jo.»tui>[uii[j^ •8()un()d puBsnioq4 U94 JO uoissassod aqi ui 'q4wap 8iq 4B 'jp>sAui punoj | „ puBqsnq .luoA uaqA^. 9un4 aq4 04 U.IU4.M sn :>a''j; „ •Ap.nub piBS aq ^/4BqAV9iuos '4oa[qiis aq4 uioaj ^uiABa4S 9.1B no^„ • •■'* ''^t-i'i 99 •HVOaNIA QKV 110 56 LI RU r I : N A XT r \ T: N •. BAS. ' '' ■ '1 III' 1 (li|: mi\[ ■ 1 , :': ii m Mrs. St. Oyr waited a few moments while Doctor Blandly, unmoved, patiently scraped away at liis seed murkur, then slie said : " Is it not possible to buy an nnnuity witli ray money ? " "Yes. What sort of an aiuiiiifv have you betMi thinking about?" " An nnnuity terminable w'tli my life." " What advantaijfcs, in your mind, has an annnity over tho simple plan of taking as much as you reoiiire until you riin or your capital is used up? The imiividual paying an annuity always calculatns to p^ain by it." "lint all whom 1 have known have been disappointed." " Hum ! Then you faticy you woidd get the best of the bargain." " Y'^s, for I am certain I shall live to be an old woman. I feel as youn? as ever I fe'.r ; but I slionld not tell every one so — and peojjle paying an aniuiity are influenced byliope, anl think their annuitu'its haven't ten years to live." Doctor Dlaii'lly looked up with half-closed, critical eyes at Mrs. St. Oyr, sliut up his knife, put the stick into his pocket and asked quietly : " How old are you ? " After a little hesitation, Mrs, St. Cyr replied : "Forty-four." " You are too stout. Do you suffer inconvenience from your stoutness ? " " No. Of course if T run up-stairs qniekly, or ovc>r-exert. myself, I feel it — tlien T have the palpitations." Doctor Blandly never took his eyes from her face as she spolcp. " If I told you, mndani, that you are likely to dio sud- denly — that you niight not live twelve months, would that deter you from your scheme ? " "Not at all. On the eontrary : if you could impress that on any one wishing to sell an annuity, T .should have a greater inducement in buying one, as I should get more for my money." " You told me that you still loved your daughter: how is that consistent with your making an ai-rangement which will leave her pennile.S8 at your death :' " " When I die my daughter will be well married, and in no need of my money." " Is your daughter engaged ? " " Well — that is — not precisely." Doctor ^'landly was silent for a time, then: r^m oil- AND VTNEOAn. 67 OW IS will in no " If I undonstand your clinvnotov nt all, Mr*. Rvnwn, you wish to go into fashioiiublesocifty ii: ni(]>'r that your daughter may secure a husband with a fortune: for this end you are ready to risk the loss of your whole fortune, and expose your dauj^hter to the peril of absolute po\erty." " I see no risk." "That is to say you are blind. But T trust, for your daun^hter's sake you are not so pi-rversely obstinate that you ■will not refuse to be led." "Doctor Blandly, no one in the world can divert me from my intention of taking my daughter into .so-itfty. It has been my constant solace in the weary solitude of these past vi'ars. It is now my proudest hope to see my chiM married and in a station worthy of her bfauty and goodness. She shall not endure what I for her .sake have endured." " Then, madam, accept my present proposition. Draw from your capital as mucli as i.s necessary for tliis .'^pccidation ; your daughter may nmrry before your decease: if not , she may have something left of your fortune to support her when you are gone." " I will never be a burden on my daughter's generosity — never e.vpose to the world the fact that her mother is not what sbe seemed." " You oblige me to speak plainly. You v> ill not live to be forty-five." If the Doctor expected to terrify the widow by his brusque statement, and check her in a cour.se which he saw niiglit be ruinous to her child, he was mistaken. Mrs. St. Cyr smiled calmly and shook her head. " I know better," .she .said. "Ah !" muttered the Doctor. "Here is a tvp" of woniiin I have .s,"en before. Your fair, fat fool, conipljcent and self- satisfied, is as obstinately stubborn as a veritable pig." Mrs. St. Cyi", on h(»r side, was equally aggravated by the opposition of Doctor Blandly, which she conceived arose solely from his antipatliy to women and natural perversity. She spoke tartly when next she opened her lips. " I don't want to know what I am to do with my money. I want you to tell me how I am to obtain an aimnity. And perhaps as vou seem to think it will be such a lo.liiiif liisolhow on file unn of lii.^ cliair, rasied liis iio.sh- aj^aiiiNt hin t'orj'liiiger, and dosing one eye looked thoughtfully ut the floor with the other. " There are scores of men," said he, as if talking to himself ratlier than to Mrs. St. (Vr, "scores of 'em who would jump at you and \ our ten thon.^nnd pounds, as a jack j«inj] at a <^uielves presently, to b^sure! Why, Master Thonius, you look more of a man than ever." " There, go along, yoti old rhnttcrer," enid the Doctor, "and when you've brouglit up what wine you iliink (it to make us drink, lock the !iil)j»rt'(l him Ion;; n^o, a ifiiy, livfly Itoy nn<\ ft'llow scholar. With a Higli and a quick moveinoiit of hi8 head, ho banished these reflections, and returned to the tmbject that had to be discussed. "His will is there," said Doctor "Rlandly, taking a folded sheet of parchraent from his pocket and (aying it upon the table. " lou will lake it with }(>n and n>ad it at your ])it>asnre, Tom. It is simple and clear. Exrepting a few up" nportant legacies your fatlier has left all to you without restraint or stipulation, as I told you in my letter.'' " Is there no one to share it with me ?*' "No one. Your mother died at your birth, and T never knew of any relations either on her f^ide or your father's who have any claim to participation. The lawyers have had the will in hand, and your signature alone is wanting to finish the formalities. Virtually, you are now in possession of the Kent estate, and property yielding nigh upon three thousand a year. I have visited Talbot Mall. You have a very good steward : his accounts are quite correct. The Hall itself stands in need of repairs — an expense which must be undertaken under .iny circumstances. Ihe rest of the property is salVdy invr'*t,?i, 8' d all you have to settle is — what will you do with it ? " That question has been coiiiinually in my mind since T received your letter, and I am prepared with an answer to it now. I must follow in my father's footsteps, and be guided by you, if you will let me tax your kindness." " Don't talk nonsense, Tom. You know tliat I should break my heart if you ceased to accept mv services. Are you tired of travel ? " , " No, I prefer it to staying in one place." " Good. You have to live another score of years before you can content youmlf with a world bounded by four brick walls. Unfortunately a man cannot begin to enjoy his bachelor estate in its fullest comfort until he is fifty. lie has to acquire sufficient wisdom. So you will travel again ? " " I have thought so." " You can't do better. A young man with a decent appear- ance, an amiable condition, and money, is never safe. A designing woman can flatter him into the belief that she loves him better than anyone else, and he is betrayed by the gene- rosity of his nature into offering her marriage. Then he is lost — made over hand and foot to the Philistines. I would have every boy made to learn the h.istory of Sampson by heart. Thanks to your natural taste for never staying in one place longer than half a day, you stand a good chance of being happy II r ^ w' I J £UT I':XA>'T I>A RXA BAS. ' 1' ' 1 1 if ' 1 ■! I iilil ''I , ■ ' 1 1; I . i :;' Ill '■I it'll ■II in youx' deeliuiug- years. Of courst, you have no intention of uiarryiiig ? ' "iSfune." " And vou do not feel disposed to live at Talbot Hall P " *'Xo."" " Tlien Jny advice is, that as soon as you get tired of my port, you .^liall i,fo iibroad again." Tom I'lokt d at the lire dreamily, without answering. Ho scarcely htied^^d what the Doctor was saying at that moment, for his luind, which had clipped into his pocket, rested on a shoe the slioe Ladv Her'tv luid taketi from her foot for his guido in the purchase of .skates, and he was thinking of the winsome maid. Doctor JJlandly looked at him, and saw a smile play about his lips, and a soft tenderness in his eyes, which alarmed him. " Hum ! and where do you think of going next, my boy ?" he aslfed Ijriskly. "I liave not the sliglitest notion," Tom answered, arousing himself. '*' Idid think of going to South America, but T have changed my mind. Somehow [ seem to have lost my relish for new places, and the old — well, the best of the old is here. Doctor, Perhaps, after all, I shall stay a few months in Eng- -land."^ '* What is that you keep turning over in your pocket?" " A maid's shoe," answered Tom, drawing it out and looking at it with admiring eyes — "isn't it pretty ?" The Doctor took it in his hands, turned it over, and fiercely said : ** I'll be hanged if I think it a jot better looking than mine." " I cannot agree with you," said Tom, laughing, as he slipped the shoe gently back into his pocket. " That woman said she had a daughter ; now I'll wager the shoe's hers," " You win ; it is." ** Ah ! I thought so ; a chip of the old block. Pretty of course, and a fool." " On the contrary, I think she is clever," "So much the worse — Baxter's wife's clever." Tom laughed, " There the comparison ends," said he. " Tom, I don't like it. The mother is designing, and has been pretty enough, and if the girl has as much cunning and more prettiness, slie will jii.st marry you for your money, if you give her the chance. My boy, it is more necessary than ever i "^ COl XSKLS. 63 ilis't yoii >iluiiiM iro to Roiiili .\ini"if;i to Jeri ilic piiiii^i-ir.tj t'o'* lum ir 1 wiiis to forsake him in his hour oi ihm^iI. ll:iik to him, miister I "' "Open the jiiitp at onff>, yon oil foul I Dvin't siiind there gTinnint found ice in the river when he rose ll.>e followinfif nioriia^f. If the frost had broken he would not have been CiiliL-d upon to tench Lady Belly to skate, and nothing mi^dit have liiken place to prevent his followinp: the coimsel of l)octor Blandly. .Scraping the frost from tlie window, and looiv'ng over the gently undulating English landscapf', where every twig and branch stood out sharp and distinct against the still, cold sky ; he had less desire thati e^■er for the expansive grandeur and fervid mists of 8outh America. Solitude had lost its subli.nity — or sub- limity its charms for him. After brealifast he took the stage to London. lie bouglit a pair of strong, useful skates for liiraselr at the first s!iop he came to, but he found nothing suirici'-nily li:;ht and ])r'tty for Lady Betty until he liad examined tl)e stock of lialf a dozen shops. It was half-past two when he reached the CiK'SUuts. Lady Betty must have seen him co.ning, for llm door opened before he reached it, and she ran to meet him, her open face aglow with sparkling deligh;. Suddenly sht; checked herself, seeming to remember tliat .she was no longer a child, and waited for him to approach with a blush up )n her cheek and eyef* that sought now the ground, now his face, in pretty baslifulness. *' You are glad to .see me ? " Tom said, looking in her face. " Yes; and are not you gl.id to see me also ^ " Tom did not answer ; his loigU':^ seemed to refuse its office. " Are you afraid to flatter lue Y " asked she. " Lauy Betty," said he, " I know not how it comes that I am silent when I so Avish to speak, unless it be that there are no words to express my happiness." fT"^ f ill! IIS I n CO LIK :.:>AN!' .;'.;:NA:iAS. M :i| llllft;! \\'i;li .[ \A\\v- crv of ;;r. iiliiMtiiiii Lii'lv Hflty slip] cfl lii t liiind uiuier Tom's arm, luid linr step seemed to gain iu elas- ticity. " It is a new happiness to be wo wt'l(N>in"d." "Mamma hiiys that Doolor Blamlly w;i.s prod ifriously glad to see you." "Hum! wliy that's true," said Tom, with some hesitation; then, lookinp' sideways at Lady lit'tly's face to see what there was in it which should make her g-rHeunj": so much more effec- tive than Dr. I'lhiiullyV, he adleil, " Itiit your welL>tty if she would tah" h -r firs! sk.it ing lesson before the light Faded. Lady BiMty wislio 1 for nothing better. A man must h ive Ins wils al)o'it him to nicely adjust a .-Miate on the small surface of a pretty eirl's foot. Tom's witsdesei-ted him from tiie inotn >nt he took l/'dv Hetty's foot in his hand. lie fidt never more clumsy in his life. Me grew warm, his fingers trembled and slipped, ;.'r,iziii_> his knuckles against the sliarp steel ; he twisted the sir.ips, mid Ijuckled tliem first too loose, then too light; in a word, !iis hi!'';:liiig (efforts were suf- ficient to tire one's patience, ye" L'!v I'-Mty only l;inghel. She seemed to enjoy his con'usion : she did not find fault or r:; ;':r:o:r." ■\-:Vin'sv>. 67 1 in eiao- iisly glad ^si tat ion ; liat there ore effec- uH is not )f him is e a beiir," inia stood I. I hope v. T pro- nii.t^btt'or- , are ever Kor mirth, > Tom. \u' 1 '.egged upon him isnre." ,vent with iuid— and ihly— that • that will rom asked before the ust a iMiute {sdespi-ted 1 his hand, warm, his again.st the •m lirst too s were suf- V laiighi'l. nd fault or attempt to help him. tlnnrh it was yry .•ctly «•! 'm* that she could have doiif tlic wihi' • lMisiii.->-i i.h- iM-r.'sell m >\ coujde of minutes. It iii.->,)iit!d i..i' with di-]i'.i-hli'ul hopes n'{ fonquc.-^i , to liave him kiiei'ling at her it-et, for sae wjis u t\ra;.i ai heart. And wliat man eouM >he prefer for her ,s':;vt' to one wh<,' had vanniod liis in(h^p('nd.'!U-e, and tal'ed li .;litly of ItMviii.'- h"r. As f(Tr Tom, lie felt lie was no loiipr ?n'>'t'i- of Irms'If 'rom the uioment lie hent iiis knee : hnt he I ^nk on liis cii; ins rct'.d.ly, not knowing now noon tliey would gall him. " Tiuink you," sai'ni di-al of i :• )id)lt>.'' " 'Tis inv fault V htsid that giv(s me troiiMe. ;'.i d itot vour foot— that is fault Ir.vs." "So I have been toM," s:iid Lu'ly lidty, demur, ly. Tom did not aiiswi'j-. " Now who on earth ea'i h !\(- ;oI.| Ikt so r " !,.• ;:sk •:) himself, giving a vicious ti'g at hi;- siuio Miaps; "(.■Icail;, .•..,(• one w Ik , thoug'.it, however, was tran-itory, for she was eager to learn, and as Tom rose to his feet he 'ound n< f hino- hut sweet expectancy i'l lier face, anel uixier the InHuenee of her smile his brow "•:•. w .-inooth ai. iin. " Give me voui' hii liaiid, Ladv Deity," he .said, " now \our right.'; "What ^reat. strong hands you have ! " "The better for serving you, I\e -p yniu' arms firm, '^"our left foot forward, now vour right, l- t — not loo li s!, left .i^ain ~H0 ! " Lady IJetty required little teaching, she was te..;e of the pond and regarded her daughter'.s movements with proud sat;.-vac-l io)i. " There, mamma, what do you ihink of that Y" a.-^kid T^uly Hetty, wlien Tom led her up to Mrs. .St. ('yr. "Prodigious, my lovel' answered Mrs. St. Cyr. "The 5-2 •r," r G8 TJTUTTKX \XT r.\:?N.\ lUS. ii |:| ' 1:1 urccc and tin; fli'i^' uwe are U8t<)iiisliiii<^, and I am not in the i('ii>l surprised ihal the skating lia.> become a fasliiouable pas- time. 1 heal, Mr. Talbot, that the I'rinee has performed the cotillions ill eompuiiy with tlu; Uuciu!ss of Donegal, and Mr*?. Fit/Herbert, upon the waters at Windsor." *' Very likely, madam, I have seetj women, carrying basket.'? of Imtter on tlieir heads, skate to market in the low countries," answered Tom. " Take me away again," cried Lady Hetty, impatient of delay, " the sun is already behind the trees." Airs. 8t. (Jvr stood on t.ie bank, waiching the skaters until her feet were uumbei, and she had reas()n to fear that the end of her nose was growing vulgarly red, when she waved an adieu and returned to tlie house, leaving the youni: people to follow by themselves — an arrangement which agreed well witli their inclinations. " Am I a good pupil?" asked Lady Betty, when the dark com]>elled them to leave the ice, and Tom was removing her skates, "• You are too apt. I fear you will be able to dispense with your teacli?r too soon." " You 'vere anxious to leave me, and only undertook to teach me by compulsion. T believe. Have you abandoned your in- tention of lea\ iiig Eiii;'hind .soon ? " " To tell you the truth, I wns never so disinclined to leave it. After another les.son you will be able to skate alone ; then I shall have no e\cu.se for staying here." "Oh! I can supply you with as many excuses as you need. In the first place, I do not want to .skate alone— in the second, it wf)uld not be safe for me — I should be nervous and timiil the jiioment I felt there was nr )ne to save me if I were in peril.'' " You do not .seem wanting in courage." " That is because you mistake my coididence in you for self- reliance. I .sliould never feel afraid while a gentleman was near me." " T am afraid you flatter our sex unduly. We are not all to be tru.sted in emergency. In danger women are frequently braver tlian men." " /don't think so," Lady Betty said emphatically. " You judge men by the fictions they have written of their own heroism ; I judge by experience." " So do I," said Lady "Betty, driW Tom looked at her in surprise au-. found her with her eyes fixed on the path they were treading, and the delicate lines of her brows bent in a frown. ■ ■■' . 'iillHill n: F:'>roxiTonY SY^MPToy p. fift "There woiv twentv-onf of us,'" piiisncd I. tidy Hcity. " 8onie fjii'ls uf luy own age, others older, ui id ihi'ee ;io\er- nesses, as old and a.stoii^h us— as Oliver Crcinwell; rei^ailar Ironsides all three. ^^ »■ were out taking the jiir. and hjid to cross the river by one of tlie lock gates. 'I'lieye were Iwvi hoards and an imn rail. We were told to liold the rnil in (crossing' with both hands- and that was jitst .-uth( ienr foiniilo- nie not hold it ut all, as there li»ij)})ened to be a i.'<'hi Icn.-.n on the bank looking at us. And I tripped over a hoi rid nail, and fell in. "The young girls cried, the tdder hid their tm >-^ i)i i!ie!r hands, and tlie three governesses fainted uway- -and I was left in the water to get out by my own efforts; o- (jr >wii. Lm-Kilv Philip Xorman saved nie. And so, iSh*. ra''>ot. I thinl<' inv experience proves by twenty to one, that teniule coinfi;!- p> less rehable than yoti tliink it." "Philip NorniaTi was the name of the fellow on ihe L.nl* who looked at you as you were crossing', f su])])use ? " " It was ! " answered Lady I'etty, in a grave voice, *iisl'pg :i rapid glance at Tom's sombre fa<'e. " .And I shall never f"rgtt him," she added, l)endiiig hoi* head to conceal the merry tv, ink- ling mischief of her eyes. " Lucky rascal," muttiM'cd Tom. " Well, of ('(Mnvse. the oirls couldn't swim ; and il tliere was umaii there he was r-ompeiud, in common decency, to plunge in luid rescue you."' " Yes," Lady Betty said, with a soft sigh. " He Avould have deserved a thrashing if he had not." From Tom's tone »f voice it seemed as if he thoii'jht Philip Norman ought to have a thiasliina' all the same for lui\"'ii^' done his duty. Lady IJetty, who felt as if slie were being tickled in chitich, hail the utmost dilri/ulty to la-ep a grave face. She put her haiidkcichief to iier cyfs.und .-.iLdu'd iii'ai' . " He did not lose his life in saving yours, did her*'' 1. ni asked, remarking this sign of n-i'ief. T^ady Betty shook her head in sii-i 'e, and tin-neil her fi;- e aside. "Then hang him I " said Tom, to himself. "She knnw- h s name, so it is clear he took advantage of the accident li> ie|>- y himself for his tri)nl>le." " [ haven't seen him for three momhs," said Lady Hetty, her face still averted, and n corner of her lnm:An.vs. iiiii ill interview — indeed 1 felt exceed in^rly uncomfovtnble, what with the smoko from hifi Imnid lidiiliro, liis uni)Jeasunt be- haviour, and the fear that ho would di>in no scope for exercising their con- versational powers, for no sooi-er had she entered the roon» than she bega?) to s])eak upon the subject uppermost in her mijid, with a volubility Avhicli might be lili.'ued lo a torrent, into which side streams naturally flow and lose their individu- ality. "Embrace me, my love," she said to Tindy Betty, "embrace me. I have received a most satisfactory It tter from Doctor Blandly, and my fondest wishes may !>■ put into execution innr.ediatelv. .Mr. Talluit, vou will excuse me for introdnciu'r my personal alTniis b-fore you; but I am sure yon will be interested in th.it which concerns the welfare of my darling child and my. sell." " Madam, I can a.ssure you I feel " " Oh, you ha\i' a right to w.y confidence, for you have been instrumental in producing my felicity, <• nd I regard you as a dear relative and an old friend )!U]u'r tlian a nev/ acquaintance. T cannot tell you iiow liighly T a])pr^'ciate your frienti ^TTTT "THE r.r.sT LAID CIITIMES." 71 : robbed ufl. We arc sliij^'^ubirly plnccd, Mr. Talbot. 1 Iiuvh jU'itlior relutioiiH nor Jrioiids on wbosu juilfiiiiciit I can nly. My only ncquaintancfs are one or two iioi^-libouring faniilios, conipoped of women tlinf art* ]u'r[Vctly idiotic, and men wbo are no bettor. I bave lived in a stat« of isnlatioii wliile my cliild lias lieenat 8cbo()l,and wo know absoliitelvno gentlemen —do we, Hetty ?" Lady Jk'tty did not reply. Tom, coming witb cbivulrous promptitude to her assistance, said : "I am sure any man so fortunately placed as myself, could do no less tlian " " ]\Ir. Talbot, you liave pfivpn .9uob proof of d.^interested re- gard for us two unfriended women tluit it would be unjust for us to place you in the same cate Mrp. St, Cyr sealed her daug-liter's lips witb a ki.*H, and said, in a gentle tone : " l)o not interrupt me, dnrliiio'. Give me youv best attention, my charmer, for this is a sul;jec;t which ( losdy concerns your- self. The questions 1 havt; to put to Mr. Talbot will come in their tilting piace. My liusband, Mr. Talbot, died while Lady Betty was stdl an infant. The fortune he left was not large enough to permit of retaining a large establishment, and I bad no longer the inclination to live in a grand style. " I was a 3'oung mother and a young widow, and you can well imagine that in my position the 0)ily tliought I had was for my cliild. To provi le for her future was my first care, and I retired at once to this secluded parr. I placed my money in the public funds, drawing only suHicieiit to provide for my own wants and Lady l?etty's et.'ucation in order that principal and interest should accumulate, so as to allow of lier taking a suitable position in society when she left school. Anxious to obtain as large an income as possible, I inteiided to remove my capital from tiie bank and place it in the hands of a tiiiiucial agent, wbo would invest it to the best advan- tage. "You now see tbe risk to which I should have exposed my- self, but for Dr. Blandly. He kindly warned me against the public adventurer, and promised to find, if he could, some pro- r J 74 Ml: I ir.rAXT DAi;NAnA3. \m:\ %m\\ fitiibh' and Haf« inv»'stin*Mir. Tlmt prritniHo h« kept, and tliifl iit'tfi-iioon liH writt'H to inform nie that I niav relv on rectiivinir IhIiuII accci>t liis otT»!r without lu-witation." ('i^'lit hun(lr('(l ponndn a \in\v for tJiu UHe of my capital. cccpt his otT»!r without lu-wi ** Vou may do ho witli perfect confidence," said Tom ; " your Rropeity in his handH will be as safe as if it were his own. ot cnly will the interest he proin]ttly paid but the capital, should you wish to withdraw it, will ' '* 1 am perfectly satisfied," Mrs. St. Cyr said, hastily. ** And now, Mr. Talhot, we come to a more iiifereNtinjf part of the subject. I am to receive my first quarterly payment on the ensuinp- quarter-day." " That is to say, three months from the pre.stMit date." " No : on the twenty-fourth of tliis month, l.s that unusual, Mr. Talbot P " "1 have never known interest on capital to be paid in ad- vance, although I believe payment is occaxiotuilly made on annuities, on the day of capital being transferred ; but I know little if anytiiiiig al)out liiiaticial arrangenit'iits, and I can (juite believe that Doctor Blandly would procure all the advanta;ie for you " " Precisely ; that undoubtedly accounts Utr everything. What a dear, good man ! " Mrs. St. Cyr gave a deep sigh of satisfaction as this dangerous point was rounded, and proceeded, " I am to conclude the business tlirougli Mr. Goodman, of Lincoln's Inn." " Doctor lilandly's solicitor. I myself am to see him shortly." " lie is a trustworthy man, of course. For although I have no hesitation in elling yon my affairs, I should not like them divulged; you understand." " Mr. Goodman is as discreet as Doctor Blandly himself." " How charming it is to have to do business with such people ! Well, Mr. Talbot, I intend to carry out my purpose without delay. I shall sell this house at once." " My poor pigeons! " sighed Lady Betty. " My darling, you are no longer a child. Pigeons are very well in a pasty, or as a side dish." " Fancy my Maggie as a side disli ! I will never eat pigeons again. Go on, mamma. I will bid my pets good-bye to- morrow." " With the proceeds of the sale one might buy a very elegant cliariot and pair — a rich yellow chariot, ^\'hat do you think, Mr. Talbot P" " I think it is quite possible, madam." "With respect to a house. I cut an advertisement from 1^ n "Tin: ..i: T LAiu S(':i KM :;..'• 7r. 'The Times' newspaper whioh I think very (ippropriate. 1 have it here in my purse. You aro near the hj^ht, will you read that and tell me what vou tliiiik of it." Tom took the cutting, and road it with soino perplexity. "Will you he good tMiouyh to road it uh)Uii for Lady Hetty's benefit ? said M)«. St. Cyr. " * It is pleasing to ohsorve in thesf pnlicrhtpni'd tinie«. ' " Tom H'ad, " ' that the eulogies of all cIhnsi's fuif li h^-cn ftf>Hto\v: has him at her feet, iind ;ifi Jininy suitors Ix'sides as 1 fan rake to- gether, I may he permit led to retire from the scene." Tom'.s discontent was stinndated hy perceiving that his gloom servt;d >Milv to divert Ljifiy Mi-lty. She luifl seiitt-d lieiself at the lalde witli ]);ipir iind pencil jit the comnn'ncf'MHint of tlw ••vening, and rlffvoted herself ff) sketching : Imt more ilmti onci- whe't she raised ht-r 1 oid their »'yes met. itnd he fniind a merry twinkle in hers wMch he knew wms not ])retty. " .\ portrait from rneniory, muinma dear — fh" portrait of a dear, dear tviei.'d.'' 'I'om pricked his ears, for Lady I'etty's voiee was .sad. '* Li't me look at it, my sweet one. f^ady ISetty has gn-iit .••kill with the pencil, and excels in tl.e walcr-f ft'oiirs--she ha.s taken several prizes, ami been hi'^ldy complim<'tited hy her ma.st«'r. Oh, my deur ! this is too liad of yftu von ate ri-allv too -iatiric! Yet 'ti>< ati eveilirnt portrait of the dear old genfl'inan, I prot»'st. .Mr. TaUiol, you shall give me your opinion ot ihe product ioe." 'I'he sketch was a spirited caricat ure of an elderly gentleimm in an antiquated costume. " It is admirably drawn, and very droll," said Totn. " Do I undt rstatid tluit it is the portrait of a friend ?" "The portrait of he?" owti drawing-master — the brother of th(! ladi''s at whose school Lady IJt'tty has rec(!ived her educa- tion. I»ut he i,s somethin!,' more to her than a teacher, for when she was (|iiite a child he saved her from dniwninir." "With a bf)at-hook! " exclaimed Lady Retty, clamping her hands in mock emotion. " And his name is Philip Norman. I trust, my love, he ha« got better of the lumbagc id i THE ERTAr.TJSTnrEN'T IX PARa IJ.XR. 77 "What a fool I liave lm;Mi I " said Torn to liitns'lf. 'Viu:n his spiritH revived; he became gay, and ypoke of the coming eventM iti London with pwitive enthusiasm. When they Heparated for the ni;,'Iii —.Mrs, St. Cyr bi-ing' occupied in trimming tlje wick of the eandle for Tom's \mi — L idy lietty gave her hand to him, and said in a low voice and with an arch smile : " You will never be jealous again ? " And he answered, " Never ; " snatching her hnger tips to his lips, and pressing a silent kiss upon them, whily his very 30ul seemed to flame in his eyes. Never! Whaf aolemn word is more lightly usedP CHAPTER XV. TnE ESTABLISHMKNT IN PARK LAXB. "My love!" said Mrs. St. Cyr to Lady H^tty, as she sat sur- rounded by her china in the drawing-room of the neat house in Park Lane, " I must admit that 1 am greatly di.sappointed in Mr. Talbot." "Why, mamma? He has not altered." "That is precisely my rcas:)n for feeling di«appoi!itmeut. Except that he has had his haircut in aceord tuce with the fashion, he is not a pin hetter than he was the first day we .saw him. He dresses as plainly as a Quaker, and he absolutely laughs at the Prince of Wales. Now wliat sort of society is likely to be introduced to us by a man wlu) makes a mock of the finest gentleman in Europe ? " " He has introduced us to all the friends he knows in London." " And we should liave been quite a.s well without them. Two of them were beardt^ like savages, a iJiird coi?'' talk of nothing but the wild beasts he had shot in foreign part.s, a fourth wore a coat that was threadbare, and their main object seemed to be to eat as much as po.ssible at dinner, and make fun oi the aristocracy. I declare Mr. Talbot seems to draw his friends from the meanest classes of .society, and T C(^nsidei- he is wanting in respect to bring such men here at all." " He only did it to oblige you ; he appears ill at ease the whole time they are with us." " It is as much on their account as ours " ^ "Possibly. But he warned us that hid frieads were unused ,lil iii M\ :ii;i «t LIKl TLNaNT BAliNABAS. irj Indit's" .- ■■•I y. \\)ii have one consolation, iTiamraa — from the evidtMi; .saiisLactiO;! tlie3t' geiitlenieu had iu bidding us adieu, it was ch'ur thai they mieuded never to trouble us ayaiii with their societv." " "I'is evirt'inoly provoking. Here have we been in London a month, with one of the handsomest chariots in tlie West End, :t s!i!u^^iii indeed — and I with feathers on my head that cost tv/t-Ke poiDids." " Perhaps lie would not have boweil. if they hi'd not at- tracted his ohservaf ion." " That is not what we lire talkiim' :i'» > it, I reiieii i have reason to be disappointed in Mi-. T;ill));. I ani sur" I miss no opportunity of hiiilinu' uiy wishiv i > him. l)Uf he lake- no notice. lie will uaf he y r'annot afT >:• 1 to pav for a dinner to their rich iriends, they ai-i' o^ilv loo uhid to liKe them to dine at soniel.'ody else's expi-nse. Ar.d thai is how your fine ^'•enlema'i without moiiey umlces iiiinsidi useful, and fontrive.s to ket'p himself in favour with all par.ies." T-ady Betty laiiyhed. *' I see nothino' to lau'jh at,mv love. As I !iav'' said — nil I can do by hint in;^- I have dont> wit)K)ut ffTect ; and T thinlv you now onciht 'c sn;,;';rest in a pleas-mt i;i;unter to Mv. Tallxtt, thf't- you ■would like him to tjo to the card-rooms and — • aiKi " " Lose his money in makinL*- friends to be his rivals— hey, mamma? ^^'ell, I will -t!iat is he knockinuc at the door now — I will ask him when he comes in." "Then for ITeavcirs sake let me Lret out of the room as quickly as possible ! " cried .Mrs. St. ('yr, starting up from her seat in alarm. !i M CHAPTEIl XVI. TOM PROPOSKS — LADY lUCTrV I>IST'<)SKS. liAPY PiKTTY was tatiiboiiiing, she contimiHii working with a grave expre.ssion on her young face until the door opened and 11' 80 LI E U T LNANT BAKN A BA3 ilfflr ! k: { .";ia'- !i Tom Talbot c'lN'rcd ihe room; then site rai.'od her lioacl, stuck lier net (lit' in ihe canvas, und holding out her hand, wel- comed ihti tritiiid with a smile. *' Come and sit beside me. I have something to say to you. Mamma and I have been talking about you. She has this inome;it left the room." Tom seated himself on the sofa by her side, while she, takino: her needle again, resuin«'d her work. " Do you know mamma's mcjtive in coming to London — in spending more than she can afford — in keeping a yellow chariot, and sellii:ig my poor pigeons ? " she aslied, when Tom after making a few conventional remarks, waited for her to speak. " I believe I do," he replied. " She wishes me to marry well." "No one knowing you could wish anything else than that, Lady Betty." " The difficulty is to find a suitable husband for me. The friends she knew fourteen years ago are dispersed and lost. She knows no one except the gentlemcsn you have introduced, and they are not altogether satisfactory — from her point of view." " Her point of view may not be yours, and it is you who are chiefly to be considered." '* I may not agree with mamma on all points, but I am quite at one with her in regarding your friends as unmarriageable. Is there any one of them whom you would have tried to make my husband ? " " No ; but I would not willingly give your hand to the noblest, worthiest man in the world, though he were my dearest friend." A smile stole over Lady Betty's face as she leaned over her tambour. " Mamma wishes you to go to one of the card clubs and find me a husband there." " Does Mrs. St. Cyr take me for a perfect fool? " asked Tom, with a laugh. Lady Bttty made no reply, but worked on steadily. " It is odd," continued Tom ; " I was at White's last night, and lost fifty guineas to the prettiest gentleman in the room. A charming man — handsome, polite, refined, and becoming the dress of a gentleman so well as to force one to admiration. I never lost my money so willingly in my life, and when we parted I begged him to exchange cards that we might meet again under more amiable conditions." 1 1 ' i i TOM p!inp(>s;:s i.adv r,;;TTV !'r;ii).> yn I iuicill It) ,s,-i- ililll ;t >rctit;(I ICiii'; " M.Mi' i I.Mily licttv, lookinjj' up from lier work. " T have isiV'Ti him a .second tinu*. I sourjlit hi n th > mtni- iiig-, M) much hiul he fascinuted nn\ \\'<- wallo'd t'.g ihcr in the park, and sfpiirated— ten minutes sinf'-, and not » hu::diti| yards Irom tliis house." liudy Betty returned to her enilin>i(Jerv, iind W( irked in silent th'iughtftdness. " lie is exactly the kind of man your mamma is cont iiiualiy t!ilkin;jf to me about, the .sort of man she wuukl make you marry if she eould, ancl for that reason I did not jisk him to come with me here.'' " 'J'hat was unyenei'oiis." I. sidy !!• rty said, efdndy. ** It is u^Lren^M•ous, selfish. ^lenn — what you w.ll," lie eried ; "say that withal 1 lose my self-e.sTeein- whai then!' A man will sacriHee more than that to po.sse>s a diamond, an 1 if lie will saeridee so mueh for a mere .sto.e that h;is its vahi^ in so many pounds, shillings and pt-nce, shall I he.-itate at losiiio .^u little to gain that which is aVive all price ! " He look her hand from tlie frame and pnsh<'l the lamhoiir aw(iy, and she, awed by the earne.stne.ss with which he spoke, and the passion which burned in his eye and trembled on hi.s lips, looked with larioe-eyed wondtM- in his pale face. '* 1 have ihought of you day and niyiit," he continued, "'aiid tried not to think. T have left this hou.se .sayiny;, ' 1 '^viil return no more,' and ere the night had come counted the hours until morning, impatient to .see you again. I have said, ' I will not love,' and T love." " You frighten me, and you are crushing my hand." " I am not master of my.self," he said, relaxing his close grasp, yet retaining her hand between his palms with a gentle- ness that corresponded to the tender tone to which his voice sank; "I did not intend to .say what I have said; 'tis my heart and not my brain that governs my will." *■ Would you unsay your words ? " " Not for the world," he cried, quickly ; " I say again— I love you, dear." He did not fall upon bis knee, he did not attempt to kiss her, for there was no blusli upoJi Lady Betty's cheek, no bashful yielding of her eyes, to show a respon ling love. Lady Betty was struggling to overcome her astonishment, and look at the situation in a clear and rt»a.sonable manner. '•Say something to me, dear; do not lof>k at me in such chilling silence." "I do not understaiid; I am still confused," said Lady Betty, G 1 1 -1Pf«i^VM«lllli|M*l^nMI«lfhed not to love me." " It WUM becausti I feared T could not make you happy, tlio end of loving being marriage and life-long union. Our ta.sles, I saw, were nt variance. The whirl of life and fashion that you sigh to gain I thought I miglit .--igh to quit,'' "Ah!" exclaimed Lady Belly, her eyes quickening witli intelligent light, " But that is a trifle. I can conform ray tastes with yours, make your plea.« les mine; follow the world from London to Cheltenham, Chtdtenliam to Bath, and dress myself, if you will, in any extravagance that fashion invents. Wliat will that matter if I love f " Lady Betty looked at Tom no longer with astonishment or coldness in her eyes, but in kind compassion and tender sym- pathy ; yet he dared not take her in his arms. "Tom," she said, after a moment's silence, and she spoke with frank freedou), "Tom, I love you better than any one in tlie world, and so I will not conceal a sinpje thought from you. You have made f this idea he entered the shop of a dealer in fasliion.ible tritl.'s, on his way to (lerr.rd Civwe's hou^c, and denumded a walking stick of ti)e kind most u<>ed. " Ah ! this is too sh(U"f hy four inches ; it woidil do for a boy, but it is of no use at all to me.'' "I'm sorry 1 have none oMicr, Sir," said the dealer, " but long sticks wtuit out of fii.-l: ji:i last year, and short sticlcs are in. I may \h* able to let you have a long stick next week — if the fasliion shoidd cluuige." "If it is tlui fashion— I'll with it like a monkey." " The stick is not used to walk with now, but to carry under the arm." "Ah! theii the shorter tlie hetter. A little extension of the fashion and one may carry one's walking stick in tho breeches' pocket." " Just so. Sir. We must live iu hope, Sir. Eye-glasses are in again, Sir." have it, though I have to walk H "I gi::;ard crkwe. 85 "Tliuiik Goye, hut i'ovthf eye ot tlie public*, and are intended to hanf^' down gracefully from the fob. '■' Tlit;n lianfT me a t^'lass from my fob."' "Now, Sir— tl'.ere — so you look (^uite the go. You have a BDuff box, I pre.<*unie ? " " I never tiike stiuff." "Not take snuff! Dear me, Sir, where have you been these last three months ?" " Give nie a snuff box and some snufF," said Tom, with a gulp. "There's a beauty, Sir, for ten guineas — worth twelve." "That will do— where is the snuff .^ " " The apprentice has gone out to the 'bacconitst's to buy it, Sir. By the time the apprentice r(>tnrned Tom had purchased two finger rinn^s, a diamond for liis cravat, and half-a-dozen strs. I sliouM noi have won your money had our tempers been alike." Ttiui looki'il lit his conipaiiion and was silent. Gerard, with f)erfect culm uiion liiu pale thin face, (\'all{ed along with his landn still behind hiui. After a few itionients' silence, he continued : " Mr. Talbot, I am a gambler -not in the ordinary senHe. I do not play from infatuation, weakness, inclination. I have no such excuse - 1 play from purely mercenary motives— and the only diffcreiice between me and the common wretch who plnys with three cards at a fair is, that I use no fraud." " Why have you told me this P " askad Tom. " Hecause, in the grasp of your hand, in the expression of your eyes, I have found a warmth something more than connnon ; because if we are to be friends, it is necessary you should know at the outset, what sort of man I am." " Vour honesty, at least, commands respect ; and there's my hand again. Sir, as a proof that ray friendship is not lessened l)y your candour. For a truth [ cannot like the manner in which you live, but since one fixes no blame on the lawyer who saves the man who deserves to be hanged, nnd hangs the man who ought to be spared, I see no reason for being too critical upon you. Yet for all that, I wish you were of another trade, and it seems to me that the faculty which makes you success- ful at the gaming-table would make you a creditable name in a higher vocation — 'tis a thousand pities"— Tom paused, to muse in silence witli his tliumb and finger on his chin — his eyes upon the ground. Gerard seemed unwilling to influence him by a word. " You w(Mild make an admirable general," said Tom, looking up suddenly. " But a bad soldier." " True, and th.at would hinder you from rising — even were it possible to rise — to such a rank. Your abilitres would serve you as a fiTumcier, a banker." For response, Gerard stopped by the park paling, and turning to a soot-grimed sheep browsing by the side, said : " God made you as good as other sheep. On the downs mayhap you would be white, certair.ly you would be h ialthier and happier, but inexorable fate brought you to Londou, and set you to graze on a pasture foul with soot and mud, poordevil ! and one is puzzled to know whether you were not by nature born a black sheep. 1 have thought of what I might have been and what I am so often and so long that I am weary of the theme." ! i 1 1 ! WW Gi::;ARf) ('::::.\K. P7 " T don't boliovo in fat*' goveininnr nmnn/'snidToni, Miintly. " If a hIuh^p had the facultit'eof a man lie voiild givf liis niiiHt*-)* tlie 8lip Hiid scamper buck to tlif ddwns. I'nt tlwre is no reason because a sbuep cannot bebiiM' lik(> a niiin, iliat a man ehoiiid bebave like a sliocp If isn't Mnylisb to be a slave wit b- out making a stout light lor libertv." i'li "Can you give a coward coursgey " asked Cteranl, qiii.'tly. " Mr. Crewe — Gerard, I have said what T thought rn-ely to you, for my feeling towanis you is not of a bdvewarm kind. Tis our custom to r-av unpleasant things to our friends, and make ourselves agreeable to tliose we care not two pins for. But if I said that you were cowardly, 1 refuse to beliiive tliat you are a coward.' " Yet I am. Not physically perhaps. I am too cold for that. I felt no more agitation in walking along this p.iik with my seconds to meet Henry Grattan, than I feel in walking with you now. But morally, I am a poltroon, and to one of your robust constitution, that kind of feebleness will seen? more despicable even than the other. I dare not face the ])ossihilities that must attend relinquishing ray present mode of exi.Htence." " What are they ? " ' "The possibility of being compelled to serve in a draper's shop — lying to sell a few yards of .stuff to a suspicious -voman, or to sit from morning till night at a desk in a dreary office — leading the life of a broken horse that grinds a mill and stop.s only to eat and to sleep. The possibility of having toeat coarse food, to wear unpleasant clothes, to live with vulgar people, to sacrifice the delicate pleasures of art, and music, and literature, to be parsimonious and niggardly, of avoiding one's creditors, of grudging half-a-crown to a servant " " Enough ! You have said enough to convince me that a man may be as wretched with three hundred a year, as another with nothing at all." Tom turned the conversation to a general subject which allowed him to pursue an undercurrent of thought. He was not narrow in his judgment of men. For Gerard, he had a liking undiminished by the revelation he had chosen to make. He divided men into two classes, those who had faults and con- cealed them, and tho.se who had faults and confessed them : and he preferred the latter. Nevertheless, he conld not make up his mind to carry out his intention of introducing Gerard to Lady Bettj'. Gerard might be a gentleman, and as good as any who did not pursue his vocafon, but he was a gamester, and in that very word there was something whicli made it distaste- ful to associaie him with the girl be loved. Accident disposed A^ ^ <^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 // A ^. ^'is iP- U, ic ^ 1.0 I.I ■^ 1^ ill 2.2 t 1^ ilM 1.8 1.25 IIIIII.4 1III1I.6 ^ iii ii! 88 LIEUTKNAXT nARXABAS. the event, for while he was still in dubitation, they turned intA the promenade, and came face to face with Mivs. .St. Cyr ami Lady Betty. Mrs. St, Cyr stopped, and after a glanoe at Gerard Crewe, gave Tom her hand with a more gracious smile tlian she had accorded him for many days, and then made a profound courteHV to the companion whom he was thus compelled to introduce. " Our chariot wheel has broken a spoke : so we are com- pelled to take the air on foot," Mrs. St. Cyr explained — '* wliich 18 inconvenient, having no escort. However, I trust, Mr. Tal- bot, that if you and Mr. Crewe have nothing more engaging on hand, you will remedy the default." The gentlemen replied with a suitable compliment, and the ladies resumed their walk, flanked, Mrs. St. Cyr by Tom Talbot, Lady Betty by Gerard Crewe. Mrs. St. Cyr engaged Tom in a personal conversation to tlie end that Gerard should have the exclusive pleasure of Lady Betty's society, but this did not prevent Tom from making use of those arms whicli he had so recently acquired for the pur- pose of winning the admiration of Lady B^tty. He flf)urished his cane, rattled the seals at his fob, and did not forget to use his snuff-box, giving it a very pretty tap before returning it to his pocket. Mrs. St. Cyr smiled approval, and whispered low : " Quite the hel air, I assure you, Mr. Talbot." Highly flattered, Tom repeated the application, and would have had no reason to regret his elegant performance, but that Lady Betty, turning towards him, put a question at the very moment when his features Avere paralysed by a vain effort to sneeze. Wlien tliey came to the end of the promenade and changed their posititjus to return. Lady Betty contrived to place her mamma next to Gerard, and to fall back in their rear with Tom. "This is kind of you," murmured Tom, piessiiig the hand that Lady Betty laid on his arm to her side. '' Youlmvemade me happy." " "Tis more than you deserve. Not only wouM you deprive me of seeing your cliarming friend, but your ratan, your seals, your toliiicco-l)o\ everytliing that you know I adore, you con- ceal from me. ('rutd man ! If I had only seen you taking snuff before yon made your proposal ! Tom did not reply to Lady Betty's badinage. He saw nothing to laugh at in being rejected. ■|; ¥ SOUCI ET SAN.S SOUCI. 89 V ■r\m CHAPTER XVIII. SOUCI ET SANS SOUCI. "Geharp," said Tom, some fourteen or fifteen days after the introduction in the park, "you micst come with me to Park Lane." " And why must I, my dear Tom ? ' " Because I have not ths ingenuity and impudence to invent any further excuses for you. Every day, for the past fortnight T have been charged to bring \ on to dinner, to lunch, to tea, to look at the china, and what not, and every day I have told a lie to extenuate your refusal." " A little more practice, and you will be perfect in the art," said Gerard, laughing. " On the contrary — I get more nervous every day, and stam- mer over mv fabrication to sucli an (extent, that no one could believe me. And now it is thought tluit I purposely keep you away from my friends — from a jealous motive.' Gerard lauglied airain ; then grew grave. Tom continued : " I know the delicate feeling that has kept you from the house, but you may waive all objections on that score, for this morning, failing to find any plausible pretence for your absence, T ventured to hint the trutli to Mrs. St. Cyr, who no sooner heard that you were a gamester than she burst out into an eulogy of gaming and placed you on a level at once with the finest gentleman in Europe — intendingthatofcour.se as a com- pliment to you. I assure you that inst^ ad of regarding your profession as a disadvantage, .she looks upon it aa the necessary qualification of a hue gentleman. Knowing what you are, she is more than ever anxious to became intimately acquainted with you." " And you, Tom, hoping to n)ake Lady P>etty vour wife — are you willing that 1 should associate with lier ? " "There is but one answer to that," said Tom, and he held out his hand to liis friend. The folio sving morning Gerard acconijianied Tom to Park Lane, and from tliat time he became a frequent visitor. lie did not attempt to conceal from Tnni that lie visited Mrs. St. Cyr for the ploa'^mv of Lady liettv's sociPty : and Tom did his best to accept his position with maifnl ri>siLrtiation - all ^it that position Ijecame more diflicult to sustain his trials haidrr to bear each succeeding day. The weather continuing fine, the little party walked fre- iilli >' 1 it. m ill I 00 LiErTi:NA::T :;a::nai:a?!. qiienMv in flu- y.uU, hihJ sciircely evcv m*'1 witlidiit Mrs. St. Cvr juldiiig' oiie or two nauu-s to tlu' rapidly iiu reii.^in;;- li.»»t of acquaintances. For (lerard was wvM known to the fasliion- ab'e loungers there, uiid ^Irn. St. Cyr obtained introductions to tliew by pbiin, straightforward andacity. " Here ronies the gentleman who bowed to you the day before yesterday, Mr. Crewe I beg you Avill introduce ine," Mrs. St. ('yr would say, and (lerard Itad no option but to do ns was demanded of him. The audacity, however, was never resented, for the gentlemen were only too delighted to have the opportunity of speaking to pretty Lady f?etty. So the proud mother began to experience tlie delights she had antieipated : aiid on the day a real live Marqui.s | aid a visit to them and niaiie eyes at Lady I'etty, whenever manmia pretended to look another way, she felt that her cup of mortal happiness was well nigh full. It was only natural that Tom should sink in her estimation as others rose ; indeed it may be said in her extenuation that he was less entertaining than he had been, and suffered by fompari^-ion with the fashionable young bucks who presented themselves in their most agreeable aspect. " T proteJ^t that Mr. Talbot is getting perfectly objectionable," she said to T^ady Betty. " He is always three or four days ))eliind the fashion, and when be wears a new coat he seems ashamed of it. The first day he wore his diamond ring he I nrned it round to hide the stone. He is perfectly incompre- hensible ! and theu nis face is sometimes the colour of parch- nieiit- liis eyes d ill — and his nose is inclined to be red. * He ( annot help that ' — did you say. My love, what nonsense you talk, ^" ^ are not barbarians. And what would be the use of science i discovery, if one could not remedy the defects of nature. If London does not agree with him, I wish he would f»o away. No, my dear, I did not say so two months ago, it is very true; but Mr. Talbot did not require change then. He was bright, and cheerful, and amiable. Now, he says nothing -or if he does it is .so extremely sarcastic and unpleasant, that one wishes he would do the other thing — and whenever we have a visitor he is sullen, he scowls, and his complexion grows worse tlian ever "Well, he may do his utmost to be agreeable — I will not contradict that — and he may be faithful and kind. I don't for- get the presents he gave us on New Year's day, but he can give you nothing more before your birthday, and that is not until the autumn — as for me, one does not have birthdays at my t^e —and so I repeat, it would be better for him if he carried out SOfCt KT SANS Si'VCl. m his intention of p-ked ine what rtdaliun he if to yon in consequenre of your additssing him ai* 'Td!:),' and his position here mnst seem ah'ognther anomalous and un- pleasant to our visitors. * 'J'om is far too familiar, and • encourages the young man with hopes that arc not likely to be realised; Mr. Talbot or Thomas would s )und hettfr, my .love. You might suggest in an amiable manner, of course, that a little change would do him irood "My dear, who doe,<< want to discard old friends when tli^y cease to be useful — what a preposterous idea ! Not I, certaiidy. But I cannot consider Mr. Ta.bot an old friend ; he is not more than three-and-thirty, and we have only known him two months or so. It is entirely for his own good that I wish him to leave us for a while — say until July — your birthday is in August " Well, I declare, that slipped my mem_ory — he is useful when there are four. But I object to that term * harpooning,' sweetest. If I take Mr. Talbot's arm in order ; bat you may walk with jNIr. Crewe or another, that cannot be culled har- pooning. 'Tis a vulgar phrase. " To be sure he does take the place of a brother, and with- out some such kind of attendant, we could not go about as we do, and accept attentions from gentlemen we know so slightly — there is something in that. " And then he is liberal and suffers us to pay for nothing, and the expenses attending play-going are more than I c.m affoi'd — the tradesfolk are quite irritating in their demands for payment. 'Cash will oblige,' is wrote at the frot of every bill that comes in " .\li, well! perhaps it will be bettei- to say nothing to Mr, Talbot about leaving England at present. Don't laugh, my love. I was thinking how unhappy he would be to leave us.'" And so poor Tom was tolerated l)y Mr St. Cyr, and per- mitted to make himself useful — to take a back seat in his own box— to carry tlie ladies' shawls ar.d cloaks — to escort Mrs. St. Cyr, while one more favoured conducted Lady Betty, and to pay whenever it was possible. More than once he secretly dis- charged a tradesman's bill, an obligation which Mrs. St. Cyr carefully overlooked rather than wound his feelings by acknowledgment, or to encounter Lady Betty's indignant protest. He was not happy — far from it. It would have been well i i : ■( ) 9» li::c:e\. :5.\s. for hill if li»' li;iil 1 t"'li l);!M II' il ! 1 m:ii I'lirk T.jitio. A few w:\ |''li:i:'(; i;!M luoiulusof travel luiii'ht have rcsiored parily his oil H(|iianiiiiitv and ii)difi"ereiice. But what lovtr evor seeks foryet fulness of hi.s woes? Lady Jietty was familiar with liini, playful with him, nefilectful of liim, and ooca.sinnally coujpas.sionate to him. Hut the ^irl was brimful of life and hii^li .spirits : she could not he t^entimental — far less serious for more tlian five minutes at a time. Lady Betty Sans-Kouri, Tom ealU-d her. How could she be to him other than she was, briii^'- so thoughtless, so sensitive to pleasurable emotion, so dcli;;lifed with varietN, so intoxicated with flattery, and the glitter and excitement of the life around her 'f Tom struggled gallantly through all to suppress the jealous revolt of his nature. He knew that his fault was jealousy, and he bravely set himself not to subdue the object of hi.s J'ealousy, but to subdue himself; to be generous to the girl he oved, and bear his misfortunes manfully. The tear that Lady Betty one night shed for him was merited. For the sufcessful effort of a strong man to suffer and not to cry out — to put up with neglect, and conceal his sorrow is more touching than the most eloquent poetry. It is more pathetic than death itself, for is it not harder to live and endure, than to give up one's treat h and cease to suffer — to fight than to fly ? Tom was a hero — not of the perfect immaculate kind, but of the order of Englisli gentlemen. He had faults, not a few — but bis virtues outweighed them, and sent that end of the scale to kick the beam. Few of those who knew him re- cognised his heroic qiuilities. It was significant of his lovable- ness that his friends at the very offset called him ** Tom." There are men who are never known by their Christian name ; they are to be pitied and — mistrusted. Lady Betty admired him for his virtues — his strength and honesty — and loved him for his faults — and they formed the larger constituent in the sum of qualities for which she valued him. It was a fault to be jealous — a fault to submit to her neglect, a fault to forgive the slights she put upon him, a fault to patiently follow her in the path which was all rose petals for her, all thorns for him, a fault to submit to the selhsh tyranny of mamma — but did not each of these faults carry a proof of his love for her that was wanthig in all the compliment and flattery of the brilliant train of admirers ? M/j'W i> 'J'rJ ■ VT n THE INVITATION. 08 CHAPTER XIX. ■ ■' • » THE INVITATION. One aftomnon in the beginning of April, Tom arrived at the house in Park Laiuj, carrying two bouquets. He bad engaged a box at tbe opera, and the bouquets were for Lady J Jetty and Mrs. St. Cyr. Lady Betty was always grateful for tlowers, and never failed to reward her lover for a bouquet witb five minutes' sweetness ; and so, expectant of happiiuiss, Tom ran up-stuirs, and entered tbe drawing-ii)):n witb a ligbt foot and a cheerful face. Gerard Crewe was sit liny with the ladies, who were talking wii'i much excitement. "Ob, Toin I what -o you think P " exclaimed Lady Betty, springing up from lierseat and clapping her hands, as he entered, " Not tbe slightest idea," answered Tom, standing still with the bouquets in liis bands. "" Why, Mr. Crewe lias obtained invitations for us from Mrs. Walker, for her mask b;il1." Tom turned to a side-table and laid down tbe bouquets, conscious that they coiiM cliiiin no attention in the presence of tiiis strong centre attraciion — in fact lie received never a word of tbunks for them — saying as be did su : " (jteravd is fortunate." " An invitation for Lady Betty and me," said Mrs. St. Cyr, in order that Tom slu>ultl at once understand tbat he was not included. *' I am sorry I cniild not got one for you also, Tom," sitid Gerard. " I.iit you know how dillicidt they are to procure for Mrs. Walkers eutertainineuts at all tnaes, and this is to be Lspcciiilly brilliant," >aid (jterard. "The Priii'j»'<)f Wales is to b* tin-re, and the Marchioness of Donegal, and Mrs. Fitz-il-ri) 'ii," said Mrs. St. Cyr im])res.sivily. " You are i.roinjj, of course," said Tom to Gerard. " Yes. The ladies will go u:i." Tom seated himself, and said quietly, raising his eyes to Lady Betty : " I hope yon will enjoy youi's-dr very much." lie found tbat she bad become suddenly grave. In lierovvn delight she bad not thought how the prosp'>ct of her g is lonliiijy ii|iiiin Ah, llifif's ilu' .MnnjiiiN Dolfrdly in til- oiMiiilnis wanting' to l)Ow, Mv ln)ii(jiU't if y«ni pluasj;, .Mi°. I'ulliiil. iit'iVM uU iIh' rank and taslitoii lo he sure. What a clianiiiiij; opera ! \ lu-vcr ♦•tijoyed oneso much in my life. Tlu' I'riiict! can't km'p his eyes olT vf>ii, I nrotest. (Jli,I adore the opera —such Hentiinent. micli — what i.s it nil about, .Mr Tiillf)! ;•' you understand the Italian." In this manner .Mrs. St. (H'r trave herself np to the delipfhts of music, and contiiuied lo chat in a tone swllicitntly loud to prevent aiiv (tne in the ho.\ follo\vinj( a har of melody until a tap at the door of the hox announced visitors, anri(»und, c(jm])letely uuconwciou.s of the people he met and pass*J, wlieu Gerard came to hifi «ide. " What on earth is the matter, Tom r' Yourl'aoe is "he colour I if ash, and your liand is cold n-* ice. Come and laki' .•lome Ci)g'niic," said he. •* Cognac will do me no good. Never mind me, Uorard, go to thehidies." " Are they alone ?" "No, there are tliree chattering idiots to amuse them." "What is the matter!'" (Jerard repeated, quietly. "Out with it, Tom ; you're not jealous of idiots 'r '' "(terard, can anything he done to prevejit Lady Betty meeting the Prince of Wales at Mrs. Walker's mask-ball Y " Gerard was silent a minute, le.^s astonished by his disease — for he had seen for sometime what was going on iri his friend'a mind — than perplexed as to the remedy to be given. " Yes," he said, "the actual cards of admission are not yet in my possession ; I will tear them up when 1 get them, if you will. But first of all you shall come with me into the air, you shiver as if you had an ague upon you. Wait here a moment." Gerard left his side, and Tom advanced to an open door, from which he commanded a view of the boxes on either side of the house. Lady Betty was looking through her glasses, and it seemed to him that she was looking at the Prince, which was not improbable. The Prince was looking on the stage, for a wonder, but that did not grtnitly lessen Tom's perturbation: it was enough that Lady Betty's glass was fixed on him. •' Come," said Gerard, " here is your hat ; put it on. I have told Parkes to wait in the box until you return. Now, Tom, let us talk of this affair seriously. ])o you actually wish that Lady Betty shall not go to this ball ? " " 1 cannot bear the thouglit of that libertine approaching her. He has been looking at her ever since she entered the box, and she at him." " What is more natural ? She is the prettiest woman in the WHO SHOULD WEAR A DIADETI Rl'T F'TIi? 97 house, and h»< llit^ prtMtie.st petit Icmjin, ns flo- p^i-.T^p tfOM. Wiiar then ? I (l'> no. wMi (o «ie..iil Lie l*ri ic.'.m (•■ijM-.i.t.r, but I Ufsk you, is he woimo h«?cnti-« his faiiliH .ii' piililu*. than doz»'n8 of the meu who (mh k«!i'p their faiil'ssMfif., hikI luu'-t i-c met in any haU-room or asHtMiiljlv f liouk at tlm pox* !"l.iirs of tlit> eufte fro'.n tiie in )st e\t.;*Hin.) pi)iir of vinw. Siipp miii^ the I'rine"k oil the mood, a)id rousing himself, said : " 8uy no more, Gerard ; my prejn lice is not to be cured by appeals to my reason, for tliat is paralysed by t hesn paroxysms of jealousy. My own conscience accuses and condemns mo of something worse tlian folly. When the fit is upon me I am tlie slave of ray evil passion, a slave meaner to my own percep- tion, perhaps, than to yours. Let us reliirn to the theatre; pee, my hand is firm ajyain. The madman ha-* his lucid intervals. Nothing shall hinder liady Betty foUowinj? herown inelinations, while tliey are harmless to her?«.'lf ." " Unhappily," saidt ilerard, layin;»- his liand on Tom's shoulder, "you are not always capable of jud^'iig whether they are harmlesfl or not." " Then you shall be my guide, Gerard. When I am in doubt I will come to you.'' Ger.ard pressed his friend's hand encouragingly, but he said to himself : " My poor Tom ! wheu can you be in 'loui)t ? ' Trifles light as air are to the jealous conhrniation btroiig as proofs of holy writ.' " |tl CHAPTER XX. WHO SHOULD WKAB A IHADKXI BUX SUB ? Thb forthcoming ball was the sole topic of conversation at Park Lane. Every visitor was taken into Mrs. St. Cyr's con- fidence, his advice accepted with unejjuivocal e.xpressions of Approval, and discarded the moment a fresh proposition was lljS If t; I OS ijic ;r;:NAN'r ii.\::*:Ai;v3. iidvaiifP:!. Till' h »!iHi) w.n Hiicim 1 fro.ii tim ItiraStM'-f » va tr ili« kitchen ficH-pliua witii plutm of fiisUioris mul " elos^ant ?ii«." It \f as notic<5iiblo that each new advisor attoinptod to out-do his predecossor by thu gorjjeou.sutvss of his fancy, and that as the ornaments proponed advanced from heads and paste to pearls and diainonds, Airs. St. Oyr grew more thouglitful and di88at.i.sHed. However, at the end of a wim'Ic the dressmaker pointed out the necBs>iiry of an immediate dm-isio-), anrel i!i witji a spiay of pa.stft to represent a comet;'' she paus(?d for a moment and theti recommenced : " You hav© v.'no :vir)n,ji v;k*.ti a :'r.\"--M iirr s!-;;? f'.i lidiU'i'd, I liiiVH IK) doiibi, vvir'i H.I lU' ." if 1 male any i'er*Mrvuti'>!i fro n you, who have always in.init'esti*d siii-h t'rii^ii l^hip fn' ih." '• 1 a^.tiire you I have no ciiriohiiy." Mniil I'o'ti, H/.c-ily ; "1 beiif you not to open any xubje/r pMiiiliil to voni>.?.t.'' '• Hut I want your n Ivir^*, iiiy ilivir .Mi-. 'I^.ilijo'.'" " If I can liH oi" any h dp to \on \\\i> ci-if' is all •re !." "It i.s your advi(>> only that I a^k foi-, hni I i,iii>j Ii .r a» a favour that yon will not mention a woi'd of w!iai I >ay lo (^alv I'li'tty— she wcadd never for;rivt. nie, ^On know how pniod she is, and would. I am ."ure refuse to Id me accept any — any advice you may ;>ive me." Ton) bowed acquie.sceuce, and Mrs. St. C'yr pioceedeii. "My properly i.s W) h()uu'r ii.'fore we received the invitai ion to Mrs. Walkor'.s laili, an.i 1 liiid myself with no more ;han Ruflficient to supply our ali.xolute necessities. In this e.vtremity 1 wrote to Dr. Hlundly lie;.';giMg him to let nie have a quarter's payment in advance. lie n'liise J. 1 then wrote aslsiii,i if he would jTfrant me a loan, taking- as security a written ijistrument emp'jwering him to appropriatt^ r;iy furniture and china at my dep.h. Again he pohiely but firmly refuse I to assi.^t me." " Mrs. St. Cyr," said Tom, greatly eminirrassed, " 1 lies:' you will not enter into these details. You may spare yours, If a-id me unnecessary pain by telling mo at once what a.v-^isiai.ce \ou require." " My dear Mr. Talliot, you know all, and all I ask of you is — what am 1 to do ? " " Will you tell me how much the costumes will cost ?" Mrs. St. (^yr hesitated a moment, afr.iid to mention the grand total, and then for UMswer took from luv pocket the piece of paper on which she had made her calculations and handed it to him to read. Without looking at it he slippe 1 it into his pocket and merely said . "I am going in the City now; I shall return in two h' urp, when I hope to be able t^ allay your an.xiery." 7-2 r 1 I' ;,' mi ii ItH 100 LT i:UT r:X ANT lU RN A BA.S. Mr.'^. St. Cyr ftcrompaiiied him to tho door with a thousand broktMi sentences of protest, of grutilirle, and apology, and finished, 03 he hastily withdrew, with a deep sigh — partly of satisfaction, partly of regret. " Mad I only known beforehand," she mur.nured, " I should certainly not luive put down everything at tlu" lowest possible price, nor should I have sent 'hat plume to the dyer's.' That was not the only error she had committed, for when Tom came to open the pieca of paper on which Mrs. St. Cyr hud written her estimate, he read, in the bold, legible hand of Doctor Blandly, these words : " Madam, " I decline to accept youi proposal, which I consider both senseless and wicked. " Yom" servant, " Blandly." This was the polite refusal referred to by Mrs. St. Cyr. At Lincoln's Inn Tom procured notes sufficient to cover the requirements of Mrs. St. Cyr, and from thence he went into Cheapside and gave orders to a jeweller's to make a coronet of stones to represent an aurora. "There's not a gem will sparkle like my Lady Betty's eyes when she sees my present," he said to hiiuself as he left the shop; and indulging his fancy with a picture of Lady Betty in her happiness, he stepped along lightly. He had a habit of repeating a phrase again and again as he walked, while his thoughts played about a central object, and tnese were the words he said to himself aa he trudged from St. Paul's to Piccadilly : " Who should wear a diadem but she ? " At the corner of Park Lane he stopped beside a butcher, who was gazing at aa approaching party of cqurfstriaus — two gentlemen and a lady, with servants in tlieir rear. The lady was Lady Betty, the gentlemen fashionable acquaintances who, in their visits, treated Tom with t^jit contempt. Lady Bett ' was laughing, the young bucks were simpering- They did not see Tom ; he was unnoticeable enough standing therein his plain dress beside the butcher. They passed him, turned the corner, and went off in a canter at Lady Betty's command. Tom heard her voice. He watched until her pretty figure was lost to his sight, and then he turned away with a sigh, walking now with heavy steps and a heavy heart to the house where he had hoped to find her and catch a smile TiiL mr,iu or rnv: ratt. 101 " Tlicy will be at he ball, ]H'iliii})s; hikI nia_vl)H now they are urniugiiig' to dance witli her," lie said lo luiu.si If. It ocelli red to him tliut if he cho.se to -witlihoM the notes he carried in liis pocket, she could no! go to the hall and ilance with his vi\als. 15ut his better genius ruled his heurt that rnorning, and Airs. St. Cyr got tlie notes. CHAPTEU XXI. THE NIGHT OF THK HALL. il Lady Bktty was dressed and waiting in her mannna'p bed- room, while that lady vainly endeavoured to i^et her toot into a shoe several sizes snniller than her foot. "I know I told him to make theui snmll, hut 1 di(in'l tell him to make them too small," said Mrs, St. Cyr, petti.-!. 1\ ; " I ., ean't go without shoe*, that's certain, aini 1 have noothfr?. :-I have got my toes in, that's one coufort, though the p:iin is . moi^t excruciating. A knock at the door P (.'ome in. No, wait! Who's there?" " I." answered Tom, from the out.side. "Gerard waits, and the carriage is at the door.' "Tell him I shall not keep him a moment. I have only to get on my shoes, and one is nearly half on already. I shati't be ten minutes. Mv darling. 1 ran never cot them on.' To .the heated maid, " Pull, you stupi'l thing, pull! ., Presently, T>ady Petty, unaV)le to avi.'^t, and her stock of ad- vice exhausted, left the room to de.scend to the druwing-iooin. Tom was sitting on the stairs. " Are you ready P "' iie anked, slipping one hand behind him. "Quite. You have the tiist view: what do voii thii.k of me?;' " Vou are beautiful! " he nn.^-wered in a murmur. " But the light is insullicient here; will you come down to the dining- . room." " Why not the drawincr-roout ? " "Gerard is there." She looked at him. laughcl 1 w, and • layiny her hand on his arm, .saicl : "We must go past the door silentlv. or he will be j( aloius, ..too." n They stole past the drawing-room door, Lndy Pwity with • her red nether lip under her pearly teeth, and no expie.ssion of irnocent wickedness in her liveh ives. 102 ui:itt::n\nt n.\?i::ARAs. " Nolo, what <1<) vou think of me P" she nsked nfjain, as tliej ■^ came into the liglit of the diuiiig-room, and clusud the door. " You, or your dress ? " asked Tom. " Both — individually and separately." " There are no words rich enough to express what I think of your beauty ; but your costume seems to me imperfect. Some- thing should crown the perfect brow." '* Ah ! " said Lady Betty, with a sigh, " I thought of a tiara — but mamma pleaded poverty, I did think of the light with which Aurora s head is represented." " So did I," said Tom, bringing his hand from behind hiin, and putting a lar.Te case in Lady Betty'f hands. She opened it, looked at it in breatliless i^urprise and delight for a minute, tlien lifted her eyes to Tom's face, and the next moment — laid the box on the table and burst into tears. " What is the matter, dear girl ? " askiid Tom, in terror. She did not reply. .V giii does not make Hne speeches when her heart is full, and sobs rise choking in her throat. " Dear Betty — what raovt si you so r " he asked again. " Your heart," sob, " is too— too good," sob, "dear Tom, and I — [ am a" — sob, " selfish girl — I know f am" sob — ■'"'and I think only of my own happiness, and fo*; my dear" — sob, " dear — dearest friend." She came close to him, suffering him to put his arm around . her and wipe the tears from her eyes with his handkerchief, as he said soothingly : "Come, Bel y dear, smile. I bought the toy to please you, not to make you cry." " I wish with all my heart you were going with me, Tom," he said, still looking grave. He looked down upou her sweet face, then bent and pressed a kiss upon her waving hair. It was the passionate kiss of a lover, but it imparted no more emotion to her than a mother's caress. Another moment's regretful silence, and then iier ej-es wandered to the table where she had deposited the gift, and she smiled again. It was yet April with her. He released her, and she took the diadem — set it on her head, and looking at herself in the glass, gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. " 'Tis charming," she said. " I must go and show it to mamma at once." " Can't you wait here till she comes down ? " "It is getting so late, Tom —and mamma must be hurried. Poor soul, she has to put on a pair of shoes, and the two are Ti:>: NT u:t o? tke ball. K." only large enough for one foot. Ah ! there is her voice — shv has done it ! " "Mr. Talbot," called Mrs. St. Cyr. "Will you be pood enough to hid the coadiman lay down the carpet and open tlie door of the chariot ? " And while Lady Betty ran up to the drawinc-room to di."play herself before Mrs. St. t'yr and Gerard, 'JVmi did ]iis» duty, and saw that the necesfiary arrangements were miide : afterwards ■he had the happiness of taking Lady Retty down, and placing her in the carriage, Mrs. St. Cyr following slowly, nupporied by Gerard and tlie maid. It required the combined efl'orts of Tom and Gerard to hoist Mrs. St. Cyr into her seat, for her shoes seemed to hav»' de- prived her limbs as well as her feet of power. Tom closed the door, gave a last glance at Lr.dy Betty's radiant face — nnd then signalled to the coachman, and saw the heavy chariot roll away. " Shall I leave the door open for you, Sir ? " asked the maid, when she had waited a reasonable time after the departure of the carriage, for Tom to make .some movement. Aroused from the lethargy into which he had sunk when the chariot disappeared from his sight, Tom shook his head without turning, and slowly walked away. ITe had nowhere to go, nothing to do, the customary resources of entertainment were unpalatable to bim, and so he wandered about purpose- lessly, until it suddenly struck him tliat it would be agreeable to walk in Stanhope Street, and look at the house w here Lady Betty was enjoying herself. Thoroughfare was stopped in the approaches to Mrs. Walker's hou.se. Carriages blocked the streets uid the masks made their way on foot escorted by liveried servants with flambeaux. In front of the house a company of musicians in costume received the visitors, a detachment of the Royal Guards kept back the mob. Tom threw himself into the crowd, and partly by the exertions of those around liiin, partly by his own, got a place in the front rank, nearly farino- the house. There was very little to see. The mask.* entering the house were the attraction for most people; but Tom tixed hiseye.'aon the windows of the ball-room, and paw nothing ebe in trying to define the outline of one beloved figure in the moving throng shadowed upon the rose silk blindf. He had no doubt that Lady Betty was the centre of admiration, and a feeling of pride stirred his heart, as he thought, erroneou.sly enongh per- haps, that all the commotion about him was but a tribute to ber beauty. 104 LIE! A'"T :v\':vAnAf?. I '.r ■1- ■ Suddenly the Body Guards hcjiiiu to back their ho 'Pfj, the hum of voices rose to a roar, and the royal carriage drove up to the door. Tlie Prince of Wales, in a grey silk domino willi a deep laco-edged cape, and Mrs. Fitz-lhrhtrt, in a pule lilac silk domino, alighted, ami entered the house. Tom ibi n ceasi'd to exult in tJie l)eanty of Lady IJetfy. The mob thinnelt,Ttiniis," but Lady IV-tty, mIu) jui"\v iii'lliiii:^' tif iJoctor J>luijdlv\s -NVHriiiiig, had liTalod tlit^se sip'iis and v.ords lig'htly, and attributed tbeiii to nothing- move serious ll.an to tlie torture of wearing tight shoes. M]-s. St. Cyr'a excitement wns follf'\^-ed by n strange drowpi- rpi>8. A dowaper who sat next to her ol'.-*rved that 8)ic uropycd her fan without noticing- it, and herh'-ad >iink forward slightly as if she wore do/ing. At thatniointiil .slie thonylit it right to awake her, na Lady Letty was approat-hing-with the Prince. " Rise, niaJani, vii-e," she said ; " the I'liuce of AVales and vonr danghtnr are before von." Mrs. St. Cyr opened her eyes, to see, perbnpp, the consumma- tion of her dream, rose wiih a faint cry, and then fell forward, dead, a! tlie very fei-t of lier daughter and the Prince. The subsequent inquiry proved that her heart was diseased, and its action had been so weak, that the excitement of the scene was amply sufiioient to produce death. It was the most severe shock Lady Betty had ever had. For some days her faculf ies seemed numbed and paralysed by the terrible catastrophe; she received the condolence of visit- ing friends witli sliglit emotion, almost with apathy, as if she could not yet realise that the event was actual and real ; then her spirit awoke from its lethargy, to suffer all that a womanly heart can endure iu its first experience of loss. For a week she was disconsolate, refusing to see anyone except her maid and Tori. In the hour of grief Tom had a manly incapability of saying anything, which made him a more acceptable companion to the sulTeri r tlian any wordy comforter. Beyond bringing her presents of flowers and fruit he offered no consolation, he was too -wretched himself, but she knew that he .sympathised with her to his soul's extent, his face was constantly long, his com- plexion bad, and more than once when she burst into tears he kept her company ; for be it remembered men at that time were either softer of heart or less ashamed of tears than now. After Mrs. St. Cyr's funeral Lady Betty's grief diminished, ehe assuaged her tears, and began to look about her. One fine afternoon she consented to walk in the park dth Tom It surprised her to find all tlie trees in young 1 nd delighted her also. Thev walked in the allevs removed trom the pro- menade, and to Lady Bettys mind there was nothing more beautiful than the look of the tender green foliage, the bright soft light, and the occasional glimpse of gaiety in the distant promenade. The retirement harmonized with the lingering lOB' LIKLTKNA N'T f. \T:NABAS. 1 ,1' ll SMiiness ill lifr In art, wluU* tlieoocnsiminl simtches of colour and life iip(/n tliHi proiiiHiuuJe siiggostt'd liope uiul pU'iisure. " Let uis sit here," she said, when tiiey came to a beat. They sat in a soft umbrage, and Lady Betty, looking around her, said : " All ! if poor dear mamma were be.^ide us ! " Tom responded only with a sigh, si^li'iig not because of Mrs. St. Cyr's absence — he had an idea that Mr.n. St. Cyr would not have chosen that pleusajit retreat to rest in — but in sympathy > with T^ady Betty. Hev face was pole and sad, she looiied sweeter than ever in her mourning dress. Neither .«pnke for some time ; a sparrow struggling to carry away a long straw to its nesting-place presently atl meted their attention. Lady Betty became interested in the efforts of tlie sturdy little creature, and her face grew animated. " Pretty dear ! " she murmured. "Would you not like to go in the country?" asked Tom; " to hunt in the woods for primroses and anemones ? 'Tis not too late." "Oh, there's nothing I like better than hunting in the woods for wild flowers ! Daffodils — don't you like daffodils, with tl eir great, bold yellow blooms and tender green leaves ? Oh, yes, I should like to go into the country 1 " She clasped her hands with delight, then with a return of gravity : " But how can I go now, Tom, alone ? " " You are not alone," said Tom, gently resting his arm on his knee, and looking into her face. She look 'id at him gravely, dropped her eyes, and twined her fingers in silence. " Be my wife, dear, and let us go away where nature is sweetest," continued Tom. " By the time the wild roses are in bloom your cheeks will be pink again, and your heart light." _ She lifted her eyes and looked straight before her, her mind gradually wandering from the subject of Tom's remarks. The thick trunk of a tree stopped her view ; moving a little from Tom and inclining her head to the side, she just caught a plimp.se of the promenade — of carriages moving riipidly, of l.'idi-^'^ pw'ly dre.s.sed, and dawdling dandies. Then a lady on iKiiseback pas.sed, and slie craned her neck a little farther to see if she sat well, if her figure was good, niid her habit becoming. Perliaps i vas that glimps» that decided ht r fate. " Be it yes or nay, give me an answer," pleaded Tom. "No, Tom — I cannot marry yet," she answered, looking him full in his earnest face. " When I am sad I feel as if T would tif: A SR'(tNl) OVVVAl 107 like to be a sober wife, and think of no one but you, and settle down to the steady routine of a donit'Ktic life. But I don't want you to have a sad, dull wife, and 1 don't want to inurrv for a mean motive — a stdtish end. I must give my husband love for love, or ve shall be mated but not matrht-d. (iiv«' me time, Tom. I do believe I shall marry you one day, for I can imagine no one so loving am' >ne as yon." "Will you not give me your pledge that you will many me and no one else." " No — that would never do," she smiled. " I can do nothing under restraint. It is the fault of niy liaiure. If I had been in Eve's place, I should have made uiy.-.elf ill with eating apples*, witlioiit waiting for any serpent toad\ise me. Wait patiently a little while. Fruit is b!^'^^ gatheted when ripe." " But you cannot live alone in that ^louI^^^" Lady Batty thought of the lonely house, and .shuddered slightly. " I'iVeryone admits that," pursued Tom. " It will expose you to observation if I vi.sit you more freijuently than custom allows to ordinary frieiKl.ship." " That is not your idea, Tom. Who told you so ? " "Gerard." Tom hesitated a moment or two, tlu>n continut^d. " lie lias argued the matter clearly, and convinced me a^.'-aiiisr, my own opinion." He paused; then with an evident .struggle recommenced. '* I'll tell you all. The fact is, while you liave refused to see your friends they have been thinking a great deal about you, and failing to see you themselves, have sent a message through me." " How mysterious you are — why did you not deliver your message before ? " " You will see presently. Mrs. Walker"— Tom groanwl- • " M;-s. Walker de,sires you to live with her whih> she remain.N in l^ondnn." " How kind," said Lady I5et.ty, her eyes sparkling. " Anrl (ierard has pointed out that it will l)e the best tiling in the wcnld for you, if- if you won't marry nie. Yon know now wliy [ delayed giving her message." " You are a .selfish, cruid — dear. Be cheerful, Tom. Don't you .see that the prospect makes me happv. W'hy are you crushing that herb under your heel, and lookiny ji« though you wi.slied that spot of ground compri.sed all London." '• Hecause I hate London," said he with emphasis, grinding a hole and burying the unoffending herb with his heel. " Tliat is to say yoti hate Mrs. Walker." " There is no love lost between u«. We have spoken tr* each : 1 \mf IM LIE! I'HN.A NT HA !ZN.\DAS. otlier only oiu'-c, and partt d with a nmrual Jcsire to Bid finch other DO more." " If she wurt rude to you, Tom, she was rude to me, and T will speuU to li«'r no moie." "No. I think it was the oilier way. 1 was rude to her, T believe 'ti? nothing hut mutual antipatliy, 1)() not let tny ill-temper |iv(>jiir — it is my belief that her intentiniis towai'd^ you are of tlie kindest — and — and I believe you will he luippy if you accept tlic invitation." " Tt'll nie why the proposal i.s inipieasant then to you ? " "Consider what I lo.se! I may see you by chanpe now and then in the Park— at the thcatie— in a picture-uallerv— vcu may pass me m her carriage, or on horse ; bit virt inilly you lire lost to me — for a .sea.'^on at least. Yet thnt injiy I if no more than the beginning- of a still wider and more complete st^paration.' •• Oh. Tom, how can you say so — sitting here by my side, knowing me a» you do. Am I lieartles.s and false utt^rlyr' J)i(l I .say tbat 1 loved you b»'tt<>i' than anyonr in the world that my words sliouM be forgotten or miflrusltd ? if .so I wii^h the atlmission imsaid." " Forgive me for saying anything wh'ioh coul • make you imagine me so nno-rateful. What I meant is this : I cannot visit you at Airs. Walker's." '* .Vnd wliy not ;■* Listen, Tom — if I may not see my friends a-- freely as I wish — if you are not to be as welcome as myself, I will iKit accept this invitation." Lady Dcfty meant what she said. Xeverthele.ss at the end of six weeks she had been a resident in Mr.^. Walker's house for a month; and had seen Tom three times and no more. t ( f CHAPTER XXIIL an evil oenius. "DkarTom, " Have you forgotten me .^io soon ? 1 have not seen you for three weeks ; it is not niy fault. Come and beg my forgive ne.s.s. To-morrv)w afternoon 1 .-^hall be quite alone, and, I think, gently disposed. " Very affectionately yours, " Lady Betty." To this point Tom read witb a flow of happiness to his heart AN EVIL ClCNiL'S. 109 which waa sadly in need of such a tender influence. He put tho letter to his lips, for her hand had touched and hallowed it. Then he read the foot note : " Poatscr'ptum — Don't come to-day." ,Tom folded the totter in sombre meditation. "Why are yon not to go to- loc!(t'(I and the ki'v taken. '• Who has loektfd this door ? " he cried, fiercely. " I have. The key is in my pocket. You shall have it the moment you are calm." " What ttiuhority have you to put conditions upon my hbei'ty?" " The authority of a friend." " I refu.so to considm- you my friend. Give me the key." "Not until you are reasonable, and know what you are doin{^'." "You villain! give me the key P " Tom cried in a fury, seiziniv (Jerard by the arm. Gen.rd was far the slighter man. In a struggle he would have hhd no chance agsiinst Tom : but he did not budge an incli. He looked in Turn's face with unflinching calmness, and said : " Take your hand from my arm, Tom. What do you expect to gain by this violence!^ I will fling the key through the window rather than suffer you to disgrace yourself and insult Lady ]ietty. I am her friend no less than you ; at ihis moment 1 am a better friend thau you." " You, a "' Tom checked liimself. Mad as he was with passion he was ashamed of the taunt at his tongue's end. " A gamester by my own confe.ssion," said (Gerard, com- pleting Tom's sentence. " Well ? " Tom dropped his hand from Gerard's arm abashed. Gerard took advantage of the momentary calm and continued : " A gamester may yet have the feelings of a man— pity for another, blind and reckless with jealousy, and for a helpless, sensitive girl. Listen to me, Tom." There was the sound of a door opening in the room above, and of voices, which, falling on Tom's ear, re-aroused the devil in his breast. " I will not listen to you," he cried. " It is by listening to your sophistry that I have been cheated into error- -that I suffered Lady Betty to come into this — this den " " What on earth do you mean ? " " I say tliat this hous^ is vile, and you know it. Who is this Mrs. Walker — this fashionable beauty? A second Mrs. Fitz- AN rvrf, 'M:':!:m. m I ' irepbert. And hetwocii you you woul'l irm'.cc u third of l^a ! .• IJtitty. You pluy the pint of jaclv.il lo a in irvnl, ;,fii,ii' lin;' th • royal beawt with the liopo of j,n'ttiiiT- what is loft \vh«u hi-* appetite is glutted. Send mn your frieuls tJ)-!n()rr;v.v, vou shall not live if there is jiiMtice in heaven I " Tom throw himself in a r^iiir, a.s if exi'"ns»-"d by the paroxysm of his rap*, Tlie .H|i*'ei door hn'l eluscl. (terard made no answer to Torn except l>y a t'oniial b iw. lie walked across and across the room, with his eyes on ihe tl ).»r. There was a knock at the dcxn-, iiiiil LuIn 1> 'ity, in a lively tone, cried, " .May 1 (;onie in, gentlemiMi ? " Gerard {,d!iMced at Tom, who s;it .snllcidy in liis rh;iir and hoard the voice without movin? a .'nii.-ch', and. then took the kev from his pocket and opened the door. Lady Hetty entered witli a biiirht smile on her fa;"e, ciii'^ht si^jlit of Tom, checked herself Ic i !ie vt'vy act of inakiii id enon<,^h to join her.»" After a moment's hesitation, Gerard bowed ami left the I'oom. Tom still sat. "Do you know that I am in the room."" Lady IV.'tty a.sked. Tom rose to his feet, an I said coldly : " You did not exp 'ci to se4 me, it rfir-ems." "No; I wrote askin;^' you not to come this afternoon. Evidently you did not iv-c ive my letter." "On the contrarv; it was that rerinest which iM'on'.Iil um! here." ^ ' "In that case you owe me an explanation.'' " It is very simple. I suspectcid your reason for wis!iin;j: me away." " You are .so amazin^-ly candid that I should not b- surprise 1 bv your adding that the main object of your visit is to insidt mp.'" "There are insults, le.ss pardonable than the pl,;;n s')(>')kin;r of an Inmest man, which j'ou appear to accept wit h willin'rncss. " If you think I feel any sort of pleasure in suhinilting to yours, you are in error." " I am in no humour to bandy words, Lady ll.Mty, the subject is too serious to treat with drawing-room levity. You know the insults to which I refer." "In the matter of insults you nnist necr'.-^nvily have the advantage of me .Vt present I have experience of only one kind of msolence, but doubtless, with Mr. Talbot to enlighten me, I shall soon know every possible variety." 112 nia'T.iraNT nAT^>:A:us. ¥ " I would that you k inw no worio tlinn I can ofT t • i' - r»r ?••• Menu of a ro(i;;fli und iingry nmn.'' Tom ppoku with u soft 'nlluxioii of tlio voice, and his eyes rosted for a inoineut on Lady liotty with a tendoriK^si which did more to shako her than his d entirely of perfect men and women ? Is each individual to be exur^aned and to carry a diploma of merit for presentation on his introduction to a new acquaintance.'' And do not you think that if an examination of that kind could be made, the society founded upon it would be very hypocritical, very narrow, and exces- sively stupid ? " " While men conceal their vices they have yet a sufficient decency to claim our respect; but others, whose vices are flagrant, whose immorality is public " " Whom do you refer to ? " " The man whose society you prefer to mine — the man you were closeted with, while your friend Gerard held me a prisoner here." Lady Betty's cheeks flushed red, and she cried — " Have you no shame, Tom ? I was closeiud with no one. The Prince was Mrs. Walker's visitor, not mine. It is a struggle to think gently of jou when you wrong me by suspicion, and hard to bear in mind that you have been good to me when you treat me so ill. It was love for you that made me ask you to see me when we should be alone and free from the interruption of visitors — it was consideration for you that made me add the postscript; but love and consideration are powerless against your morbid jealousy. I sacrifice my pride in adopthig this explanatory tone, for with all my faults, I am not ungrateful nor forgetful." 'n AN EVri, (iENHrH. 11'! I t "If you IdU'w the oclcei -handker- chief, sobbing-"! — I believe you would shut me up in a convent if you could." " No, not that — I woiiM shield you from harm, not with ndd walls, but with these two loving arm.«, dear girl, (tive me by a word the right to bo y alders, lu'sidc tli<> adiiiimlilcpn'siTveN adjoin- ing the old Kerry House Inn, Tottenliain. His right hand grasped a rod; he rnised his left hand gently and pressed hin spectacles a lilth» closer to his nose; his lips weretij. itly closed ; his eyes were fixed nyou the Ihiat ; he scarcely hitathed. His left hand slowlv descended to his knee, and he gradually rose from his seat; then as the(}nilldipped onc(> mon In' gave the lino a snatch and felt iiis victiui jerking and ])ulling at the hook. *' Ha ha, my hoy. I have you this time," said he, raising the Hsh carefully to th(> grass. " •\jid you deserve him ; you hRv»Mi't relaxed a muscle these last ten miimtes." LKu'tor JUandly t urned to see who spoke, and found Tom Talbot at his back. " You. Tom ! " he cried, wringing the young man's hand, and holding it in the atTectionate nuinner of a sincere old friend. " 1 thought you were off on yo'i'' travels again, my boy." " Here I am, Sir, wiih as little chance of leaving England as that poor devil of a fish." He spoke with unusual gravity, and fixed his eyes on the fish that was gasping teehly in the grass. Doctor nhindly scanned his face attentiv«dy, and laying down his ro iiii^lfr. v-Mii «lo iiri iiijnsticH to tho HhIi ; anrl if you tliiiik I mil onjoy Npoi-t and linttui to youi'ti'oiiiilo at the hiuiic time, you do nil m|iiNticn to me. .hu'iy ! " III answer to tlii.s rail then) cntnH a low iiiiif ttrrinpr from iIih fiirllicr Hide of a thorn biiHli. "Jerry!" rejxMiled Doctor rilnndly, iinjiiitienlly. " I) that fellow 1 wlieii 1«»! getH a rod in Ihm hand he Iohoh all «enw of duty. Jerry ! " vt the third «';ill .hwvy bnrl«ed into wi^'ht, ho!iIiii>;(' Imh rod at ariir.s-leiii.'-lh, and Ht raining liis e\es toward.s hin iloat. "jAiioiher moment and I HJionld have caught him!" lie iiiiinniired, in a tmin of de(!p ri-^^rei, as, iMiiil)le I i protract bin orcnpatioii to a giiMifer leiiglji, he rained his httok. " What, had you a iiihhier'" uNked the Doctor, with some- thing lilfn sympathy in his voire. '• .Not a ((iiarier of an hour ago," replied Jerry. " Morning, Master 'i'om, ' he, a water iiinl takf it to liim,Jeny. I'll wa^fr he will sit still for haU'-aii-lioiir wit ii that beside him. W liat can you expect h " he o.sked, turning away and taking Tom's arm. •' Wlnit CfTr?/ you expect of a man who allowed liiinself to he canglit by .Sirs, liaxteir' Look around yoii,'roni, my boy: the tender green of thc'je water intMidows .spangled here anhall find a snowy cloth spread with a great round cheese, a brown crusty loaf, and a jug of sparkling ale all waiting to refresh us when we enter. Here Nature smiles and say.s, * Heboid the very best I have to give, enjoy it and be happy.' To the rational being, with a S-2 IIR i.TEi; :'AN'T r;.\rvX.\r..\s. I I I 'I'l:, B' !i it I M wound jaclvet to Iiis haok and ei^liteeu pence iu his pocket, there is, indeed, not hiivg- left to de.«ire. lie takes and is thankful. But your wayward egoti.st, of whieh IJaxter is the type, answers, 'Tis not enough,' and forthwith lakes a wife, then, i' faith, he finds to his sorrow that he has too much, and knows the in- effable blessing of contentment no more." Tom made no answer. Earth and all that it held, and more than that, he valued less than Lady Betty. He looked round upon the meadows, and saw them oidy mechanically ; for the h'rst time in his life the heauty of nature did not touch liis heart. Xothingthere could give him happiness, and he was famishing for want of it. " She is not here," he said to himself, " and I — I cannot 'cloy the hungry edge of appetite bv bare imacrination of a feast.'" They entered the " P'erry-boai," where Doctor Blandly's ■expectations were realised. In the sanded parlour a cloth was spread, and the untouched half of a ripe Cheshire cheese stood iu the centre, flanked by a couple of loaves. "I've kept it for you, Doctor," said the host, pointing to the cheese with pride. " Kept it untouched for a fortnight. Smell of it, Sir ; look at it, see the veins of it, Sir! " " Hlue as a bilberry ! " responded the Doctor, with satis- faction. "And now for the ale, Mr, Grigs." When the ale ■was put upon tlie table and Mr. Grigs had witiidrawn, Doctor Blandly said, " Now, Tom, for your news." " We will have onr bread and duM'se, hrst. Doctor." ■ "Right, my boy, help yourself. What ale! Ves, you can save the serious business until we have satisfied our appetites. Did you ever see a handsomer loaf than that now, Tom y Still, we tan talk of trifles." " Yes, yes, trifles," answered Tom, absently, munching his crust and looking blankly through the opposite window. Doctor Blandly shot a keen glance at the young man, which a.ssured him that ho was in no humour for talking on trifles. " I wrote to you best part of a month ago, young man, and getting no answer I naturally supposed that you had riui away again." " You wrote to me, Doctor ? " " Yes, saying I wisiied to see you on a rather important matter of business." " True, I remember the letter ; I should apologise, but that my mind has been burdened, burdened ! " "With business of a vert/ important kind. Ha! ha! A little more ale, Tom. The fact is, I made a very lucky specu- lation on your accouut." i ■i f J 1 I BEFORE THE FIGHT. 117 " IIuvo you iiui.^ed." Tom cut a crust, and thatand the fortunate speotilation eoomud to be of equal interest, " You cati add closp upon twenty thousand pounds to your capital if you choose to take legal advaiitiigu of your position.'* " Oh, that's understood ; set the lawyers to work ami piK* up my treasures." " I should point this out as another instance of the natural consequence of folly and restless greed, but that the sinner is dead, and the punishment falls upon the guiltless." - "Indeed! rasa the mustard, Doctor." " You remember the poor woman, doubtless — "Mrs. St. Cyr." " What Mrs. St. Cyr; ah !^' Tom laid down his knife, and his whole attention became riveted upon Doctor IHaiidlv of her?" " She had twenty tboiisand pounds with which she wished to speculate. Her idea wa« this, f-he nii(>ht purchase an annuity terminable with her life, which would enable her to live in a style consistent with her extravagant lastes, but not with her mejyis." " An annuity terminable with her life; but what provision did that make for her daughter ? " " None — absolutely none. It left her penniless.' ■ " Incredible ! " "Not if you know the wotiinti. I told her she could not live; she, confident in herself alone, believed otherwise, Sh,' f.incicd that by a lavish expenditure she should deceivt^ tli*' wovM with respect to her daughter's lievitpge; she belii'vod that her daughter would entrap a rich mot' in mnrring,>: and >]u' be- lieved tliat she would live to see her daughter thus provided for ; she was wrong." " Wrong — wickedly wrong. Did you not dissnade her h " '* I tried to dissuade her, and failed." . " Then Lady Betty — Miss St. Cyr has nothing.'' "Not a rap. She has no right to another farthing of her mother's money." " Who has the money ? " "You, Tom. It is the addition to vour fortune I alluded to." "I — I — really did not take notice of what you were saying. Tell me again." " It is all told. When I found the woman inflexible, determined upon this heartless i;ivestment, I luade a contract with her on your account — fancying that you would be more merciful towards the sufferer than the Jew dealers in annuities. i^ m^ !f I In .:; lis LIFJ ::a:;t :; v naivvs. liil 1 ■ 1 'i' Vou said ju.-i ■low that 1 was to set tlie lawvors at work atjd jiile 'p vour treasures; if I obey your instructions, Mis^ 8t. Uyr >lioul(l he apprised at once in order that she may give up her present style of living, and save as much from the wreck- '_ age as possible." ,' " " You would not act upon that advice if I gave it seriously, Doctor. I did not know what I was saying." " Well, my boy, we must think about what is to be done. Quarter day will soon be here, and the young woman will wAnt money — she has already applied to the lawyer in Lincoln's Inn to know the state of her mother's affairs." Tom pushed back his chair from the table, rested his elbow on his knee and his face upon his palm, and gave himself up td reflection. The devil still lurked in Tom's heart — it was a tenacioue devil one not to be expurgated by a simple, ** Get thee behind me." It was prompt in;jc him now to base, ungenerous action. " Why should you give this girl the power to live a life that you detest ? " it asked. " Humanity demands that you should , give her enough to shield her fr nn want ; but Reason forbids that you should give her more than would suflice to meet her requirements. Is it not for her good that she should be with- drawn from temptation, taken away from the influence of aU idle and vicious society ? Will it not reveal to her the shallow friendship, the false affection of those about her, to reduce her to a humbler level ? And as one by ono these lordlin^s, and fops, and fortune-hunters drop away, will not she realise the worth of truer friends P " As Tom listened to the suggestions of his own selfish jealousy, his face flushed — he could feel the blood throbbing under his iingoi-s, in the veins upon his temple, and he viewed, with savage satisfaction the ignoble exercise of his power over Lady lietty, and then quickly came revulsion. He sickened at the thought of his own selfishness, his heart ached as he figured the poor girl's mortification in finding her mother exposed as a scheming, fraudulent woman, arid her distress in finding that he whom she had trusted was hf artless and mean. ' :, "What are you thinking about, Tom?" asked Doctor Blandly, after casting one or two uneasy glances at the young man. "Ah, indeed! What am i thinking about!" exclaimed Tom, raising himself with a gesture of disgust. " Myself — self- — oelf — always myself." He thii:<»t his hand in his pocket, and drawing out a paper, said: ** Look at that, Doctor, and teU m» if it will answer my purpose." ' . .,:,,,:. ■' "^■^ • BF/i'ORK TIIR FT.;nT. HO Dr. Blandly put aside hi.s plate — the famous cIippsc lind lost its flavour as he marked Tom's agitiitioii — drew oiii liia spectacle-case, took a pinch of suuff, settled his glussfs care- fully, and then opened the paper. This is what he read : " I, Thomas Talbot, of Talbot Hall, Sevenonks, in Kent, do giye the whole of my property, my lands, Ijuildiiiffs, goods, and money to Benjamin Blandly, M.I)., of Edmonton, in Middle- sej?, to be divided equally, and as he thinks jn.stly, at my death, between ( ) and Elizabetli St. Cyr, of Park LftUQ, London. And this is my will and lestament, written in the month of July and the year of grace, one thousund »uid eight hundred." There was a furrow in Doctor Rlavidly's forehead when he cqm'hienced to read ; it grew deeper as he continued. When he came to the conclusion, he 8k)wly turned the paper over as if he expected to find something furtlier on the back, then he laid it down on the table, and looking straight through his glasses at Tom, said in a tone of perplexity : " What the devil does all this mean, my boy ? " "I am going out with a man to-morrow morning. Doctor — that's all." ''That's all! and quite enough too, I think. So you are going out to cut a man's throat, hey ? " " The probability is that he will cut mine, for I know about as little of the use of a small sword as a woman." " Then morfffool you to fight. What is your quarrel ? '* "I have insulted a gentleman — I left him no option but to challenge me." " What do you mean by an insult ? It isn't in you to offer anyone a gratuitous affront." " I assure you the fault is entirely mine." " Then the noblest thing you can do is to apologise." " I consider that a mean way of evading punishment, and refused to retract my woi*ds. The seconds arranged every- thing before T left town, and we meet to-morrow morning. I should fight it for no other reason than that I bear my father's njame." -tu What better reason have you ? " .isked Doctor Blandly sharply. " None. My adversary is a gentleman end a cool hand. He will let me off with a flesh wound, I expect — if not, what matter ? I am a useless, purposeless man." "How dare you say that, Tom. It is blasphemy to say that 8 single thing that Qod has put upon this earth is useless." :'f r 120 U EUr HN A N r 1 : A UNA BAS. • (•i Tom was silent. Doctor Blandly with a frown took up the paper and read it again. " AVhttt is this blank space intended for? " he asked. „ " A naint> that I sliall fill in." " Hum ! " grunted the Doctor, " the aforesaid Benjamin Blandly, M.D., 1 suppose." Ele folded tlie paper and laid it down ; then he looked straight before him for a couple of minutes. He rose from his seat and walked m silence to the window, which looked out upon his beloved water-meadows and the peaceful stream, and tlien he .'•oftly whistled the first bar of his favourite ditty, " Up cane a Pedlar," ike, broke off suddenly, slowly drew out liis Indian silk handkerchief — a gift of Tom's — and took off his glasses to wipe from them a humidity that had clouded the tender landscape before him. "There is not uuu'h to dread, Doctor; the man feels kindly towards me, I know. ' " Oh, (Minfound his kindness ! 'tis of a piece with your gentlemanly mode of expressing regret for an affront." The Doctor took a pijich of snuff, which seemed to restore his vigour. " Well, Tom, 1 see no way out of it," he said, turning to the table again, and taking up the paper; " go and fight, if honour demands it of you, and may God answer your old friend's prayer and save you for a better fate than death by an English hand. As for this paper, 'tis enough. An alteration of one or two words, and the signature oT a couple of witnesses, will make it as effective as needs be. Will you finish the day with me, Tom ? " " I have arrangements yet to make." " Ah, well, well ! Baxter and Jerry shall put their names here, and we will say good-bye. Good-bye ! What a word, my bov I Good-bye ! Think on it ! And you a young, hearty feiloNv, while I " " Come, Doctor, I have need of all my strength ; don't shake my heart." "Not I, my boy, not I. Go and pink your man and come rattling along to me, with a look of triumph in your eye that used to kindle in your father's wlien he told of his tough fights. But I would tu God your foe was not an Englishman. Who is he, my boy ? " " You are not likely to know liim. Sir, A young gentleman of the town —Mr. Gerard Crewe.' " Gerard Crewe ! " exclaimed t„e Doctor, dropping from his hand the inkpot he was carrying to the table. '? i-- DOCTOR BLANDLY'S (l.insiTIOV 121 I ' " Yes, Sir. Do you know liim ? " The Doctor sat down, evidently much agitated. " Yes," hn said, under his breath. Then, suddenly striking the table with his fist, he cried, "Tom, you mustn't fight that man." " Fiffht ! " echoed Tom, with a short laugh, " I don't know how ; but I shall stand up before him to a certainty. What do you know of him P " The Do tor took no notice of the question, but sat in deep thought until Tom repeated it. " I know him for a dangerous man, a man you are not called upon to meet. Ills brother is a highwayman." "Are you sure of that?" asked Tom, jumping up in ex- citement. " Certain." " You believe him to be a man without principle — a hypocrite ?" Tom asked, with increased force. Doctor Blandly, concluding from Tom's altered manner that he was glad to see a means of escaping from a meeting which his own weakness had necessitated, replied : " I cannot tell you all that I know of him, but I have little reason to doubt that he is capable of precipitating a quarrel with a sinister motive." " Then I will meet him with a light heart," cried Tom, springing from his seat. " If he is a villain all that I sus- pected is true, and nothing will please me better than to have at him." t,'-.. . CHAPTER XXV. DOCTOR BLANDLY 8 OPPOSITION. Gerard Crewe was seated in the long room at Brooks', when the man with whom he was in conversation said : " Who is the new arrival attracting so much attention. A country gentleman who has lost his way apparently." Gerard turned his head, and looking over his shoulder perceived that the portly gentleman standing in the centre of the room, his legs apart, his stick planted firmly on the ground, his chin up, his pouting lips drawn down at tlie corners, and his eyes scanning successively the players at each separate table, was Doctor Blandly. '* A very worthy friend of mine, and possibly seeking me," eaid Gerard. " You will permit me ? " he rose, exchanged bows with his friend, and walked up to the visitor. iff ^ ^ m^ 122 LIE!' iKN'AWT da::naba3. I I' i'l, I' % 1 !■ i' id "Are you l()()ki?i<»' for m«», Doctor IMandly ? " he asked.'' "^ The Doctor turned without altering the set expression of hiH face, and lookiiig him full in tiie face, answered : " Yes, .Mr. Cienird Crewe. I am. I wish to speak to you." . " Will you 8p(^uk to mo here, or will you accompauy me to a room where we shall be to ourselves." ...,'■: " A private room, if you please." ..:.: (rerard conducted the Docto.- into a cabinet adjoining the I'lnff room. It was unoccupied. Gerard clo.sed the door and placed a chair for his vi.silor. " You have ch«illeni;ed Mr. Talbot," said Doctor Blandly^ up.-ning the subject without iireaiiiblo. ;;i /V " I have," (r^rard replied, with quiet gravity. ... ?..,m " Well, Sir, the meetinjr must not take place." V''-?^.!?; ?i, " Must not take place ? " ' ;.';?:I"i " You must not draw your sword upon Mr. Talbot." (terard made a sort of interrogative movement with hia delicate hands, and waited for an explanation. '• In tlie first place I appeal to you as a gentleman and ft man < if honour. Mr. Talbot has no skill with the weapon he is to use : in all likeliliood he never drew a rapier in his life. Do you tliink it fair then to take advantage of the superiority which you doubtless as n man of the world have over him ?" *' Tho choice of weapons was with him. I am willing to use pistols if he prefers them." " Pistols ! a confounded murderous contrivance." •«» " May I ask if you have come on behalf of Mr. Talbot P " is " Yes ; but without his knowledge. Tie seems more anxious to fif?ht than you are — hang him! He's a hot-headed young gentleman, and from what I can learn it is as like as not that his quarrel arose from a mistake. Now can a misunderstanding:^ which a few words would set right, justify you in jobbing at each other like a pair of heathen savages ? "I have no choice. You must address your arguments to Mr. Talbot. I have offered him the option of apologising." " lie cannot apologise ; he comes of a breed that never did apolojjise." " Then the meeting is inevitable." "I have appealed to your sense of honour and humanity, I will appeal now to your feeling of gratitude. To Tom Talbot and his father you owe all that you have to be thankful for — i-escue from the lowest depth of poverty and vice ; education, and a sutiicient yearly allowance to ensure you from returning to your original condition." Gersod inclined his head. DR. r.LANPT.v?! orroF^nioN. V2:\ ** You knew tliis then ? " said Doctor Blandly, slit'.rply. fi ** 1 suspected it." Doctor Blandly did not know what to make of Gerard's ini- Eerturbable calmness. Pn-diaposed to think ill of the gamester. e set it down to cool indifference, and after taking a piiifli of snufF and scowling side-long at Gerard, he recommenced with increased acerbity in bis tone. ** Now, Mr. Crewe, I will attack you on new ground, and forsaking the supposition that you are a gtntleman, a n)uii of honour, or a person with ordinary feeling.s of gratitude, I will take it for granted that you have a tolerably deep regaid for your own pecuniary interests. Let me tell you that this an- nual payment to you and your brother is made entirely in- dependent of any claim that you can produce, and totJiUy at my discretion ; and I warn you that if you but scratch the skin of Tom Talbot, neither you nor Barnabas shall ever receive another penny of his money. Now, then, what have you to say to that?" t. " What you have said does not alter my original intention." ' " Then you knew the facts that I have stated ? " said the Doctor, sharply. '^ ** I suspected the truth." " Who hinted it to you ? " ~ " My brother Barnabas." Doctor Blandly looked at Gerard's cold unemotional face in perplexity for a moment, then clapping his hands loud on the elbows of the chair, he cried in a tone of horror : . *• Good God ! can it be that you know all I that you are in conspiracy with that vile wretch Barnabas to rob Tom not only of his ; " he checked himself abruptly, and then speaking to himself rather than addressing Gerard, "No, I cannot believe that, it is impossible ! " "Finish your charge, Doctor Blandly." « " Tell rae what you know of Tom Talbot — of his father 1 " "I can only repeat what you have said ; T knew no more." '; Doctor Blandly drew a long sigh of relief, and seemed at a loss to know how to proceed. After waiting a minu'e in silence for him to speak, Gerard put his hand in his breast-pocket, and drawing out a case, said : " I am not wealthy, Doctor Blandly, but, for a gamester, I am thrifty. I have contrived to amass this little bundle of notes, which for the last five or six months I have guarded carefully, hoping to have, sooner or later, a confirmation of my belief. You will find that they discharge, as far as money goes, my obligations to the Talbot family. I do not ask for i i. 1:^^'l fT 124 LI KUTKNANT HAHNA HAS. nil t'XjilftiintioTi of this niy.stevions g'fn«'rosily, I only n^k i»r an extension of it by beiii^f allowed to purcliaae my independ- ence." "Good God!" exclainifd Doctor IJlandly, siiikinjif back in his cliuir, and adjusting- his spectacles that he might look with perfect clearness ot Gerard, tlien he repented, " (iood God ! " " And now," snid Gerurd, " von may perha]>a see no reason wliy I should not meet Mr. TaJ hot to-morrow morninjr.^" •' Xo reason I that's pood ! The reason is stronger than rtver, for if I was in doubt about you before, I am certain now. Gerai-d " He rose to his feet, and grasped the young man's cold thin fingers in his warm plump hand. *' As tliere is a heaven above us v«iu shall not striii vour .swoi-d with Tom's blood." " For a final reason, Sir, why not ? " " Why not ? because he is your brother I ** CIIAPTEll XXVI. lis: ^.■1 .1'^ THK FKHIT. Thk interview continued for haif-an-hour longer, then Doctor Blandly and Gerard Oewe left the liouse totiether, walktnJ into the Strand, antl separated amicably at the hotel where the Doctor had arranged to stay for the night. Gerard returned to l^rooks', where he stayed all night, risk- ing a few pounds at a faro-table, but playing neither continu- ously nor with interest, and rather, as it seemed, to beguile the time than to win money. At five o'clock he was joined by two gentlemen, and they conversed in the cabinet where Doctor lilandly had sat with (ieraid, until about half-past five, when a fourth gentlt'ii.aii entered the room. "The carriage is at the door, are we all ready?" he asked, after exchanging hurried salutations witli the company. "Quite. a>t fur as I am concerned," answered Gerard. The other gentlemen expressed their readiness, and all four at once descended to the street, where a carriage with a pair of horses was wait! n^'. A couple of rapiers and a mahogany case were on the seat: the seconds took the swords between their knees, the surgeon nursed his property, and Gerard liaving seated himself, the carriage started oif. At ten minutes before six they were on foot again, and making their way down an avenue of the park, Gerard and a second iu advaiice, the other second with the surgeon following'. ipv TIIK Fir, TIT. 121 .i ! It. wiis a prpy innr.ii /,>•, a dri/zlintf rain Imd hctMi rallini^, and drops still fell ftoui the trues, liunird lo()ked up ut the heavens with anxiety ; an inky cloud was sweeping up under the grey veil that covered the sky. " A mighty bad morning for our businoss," said the second. " If it rains will you toss tor sides, and toke tlie chance of get- ting the drift in your eyes, or pluy under the oak t* " " Under the oak," answered Gerard. His second looked at him wit' surprise. Gerard stepped aside from the path and tried th** grass. " 'Tis dangerously slip])'^ry," lie said. " That gives von the advuntag-e, with your cool hand ; our adversary will .slip ahout liUt* an eel in lii.s impetuosity. All you have to do is to stand still and pink liim." " You understand distinctly that I offer Mr. Talbot tli»^ option of apology." " Certainly — you don't feel nervous, do you, Crewe ? " " I never felt less firm in my life." "Ah! you ought to have turned into bed for a few hours like a rational being, instead of sitting up all ni<.'ht in that liot room. However, voii have nothing to fear. Ah 1 here we are. Turning the angle and coming in sipht of the King's Oak, they perceived, standing under its wide-sprea onk the rain was not f»'ll, t'Xj'j'pt in the occiiMJonal plush of ncciiumluted diops, but the gnisH W08 not k's.-i ^lipp«*^y. llu\ing takon olT hiw coa waistcoat and cravat, (Jfrara kicked off his shoes. Again tl i M»'Conds glanced nigniticanlly at each other ; then every thinj? h<'ing ready the principals advanced, Tom with his eyes fixe lnonst . Iu» w.i« qiilff uiiprep(ir<»*l for nny«»tluu' r»'f*i(ll,iini'ai'ii right hand, he h»'.sitat»'d a inoirt. nt, at a 1«>hm to know liow to act. Doctor lUaiidly had .^aid th<> man waH a raNcal and a hypocrite, but jiKljfing' Inm by hiw own H\pt»rirnf«», com1«1 h« prove a sinffle (hpaiture from the behaviour of a friend and a ffentleinan. All liis nuNplsionswere biiscd upon the supponilion that (t«>rard wawfulMe, h.it vith this (•«uivincinff proof of hiyalty those suspicions were urijnst and ii!defeii>'ible. If Tom was ashamed of bein^" beat"n and rohu-funt to yi« ' to a foe, he was by the same principle unwilling to be outdone in generoity, or to he'd out against tlie advancers of a frien«l, and so nft» r that brief moment of doubt and hefiitution.hejfave hi.s hand frjitiKly to (ierard, saying: '* I have behavtKl unhundsomely, and I ask your forgiveness." m ! I CIIAPTKK XXVII. AKTKE TIIK FIOHT. Tom walked off the field with » hnnff-dog look, and made no response to the cheerful congrntiihitionsof liis se(tonds. It. was not in his nature to underrate his own shortcomings, or to look on the cheerful side of tlie defeat. " I have made a fool of myself— insidted my fiiend, and been beaten," he suid to hin>self. His adversary's generosity afrfrravated his mortification. Ho declined to take a place with his seconds in the carriajre that was waiting for them ; he thanked them very civilly f«n' their services, and went his own wav, witiiout even asking them to breakfast with him. He sat m liis chamber witli his liands buried in his pockv'ts, thinkin,<>: of his fatdts until he felt absolutely sick, and the girl brought a tray laid with a sub- stantial breakfast. He ate heartily, and finding liis sickness considerably lessened, he rose from the table with vigour, sat down at a desk and wrote this letter. " Dear Doctor, — " I have been thoroughly beaten, but my adversary generously contented himself with a bloodless victory, though he migiit have done my business a dosien times, I honestly believe you are mistaken in him. As far as concerns my quarrel with Mr. Gerard Crewe, I am convinqed that all the blame was on mv I i- I Ml 'I: 'I I ■t'i ifi iW^'^ ^- S !,M 'i: 111 128 LIE1 TENANT RA UN ABAS. side, and as I reflect that a couple of hours ago I wafl doin^f rny best to stick a sinall sword through his heart, I feel heartily a«hamed that I took no better pains to prove the truth of my suspicions beforehand. " 1 shall leave London by the first coach tliai starts for Sevenoaks, and there I shall stay till the madnesis which hath aftlicted me to the discomfort of those I most love, .shall have passed off. With regard to Miss St. Oyr, since fate has decided that she is i;ot to have the half of my fortune, 1 beg that you will continue to place at her disposal the same annual uuiouut paid to the lute Mrs. St. Cyr, and I trust to your kindness to make the payment in such a majjuer that she may not know her mothers fault, nor the source from which the money comes. In conclusion, my dear friend, I ask you to believe me ever — I " Your grateful and devoted, "Tom '.^albot." Having despatched this letter, Tom had nothing else to do than to lock up his chamber and wiilk to the "Blue Boar" in Holborn. Nevertheless he stood irresolute upon his path for some time with liis face due n.;rth. Ou the rit-'ht hand lav Holborn, on the loft Stanhope Street. '' I am going away for weeks — perhaps for montlis," thought he. " May I not hang about for a couple of hours or so to ratch a last glimpse of her. She need not see me, I will do nothing to renew her pain. One glimpse of her — God knows, 'tis little enough to face the dreary solitude of months withal ! The clouds have broken, and she may go for a drive in an hour." He cast his eye westward?i. " But suppose that by accident she sees me — we must speak, and then farewell to my fine resolutions. What a feeble fool I am. Hang me, if I give in ! " .\nd with that, he deliberately turned his face to the east, aiid marched with steadfast firmness — for nearly two hundred yards, when he stopped dead short, struck with the recollection that the coach did not leave the " Blue Boar " until one o'clock. Looking at his watch, he found that it wanted yet a quarter of eleven. Ho could walk to the " lilue Boar " in half-an-hour — a hackney-coach would carry him there in twenty minutes ; why should he spend a miserable hour in Holborn when he air of the West End was so much more pleasant ? There was but one logical answer to be nrvde to thid question, so he turned about, and with a lighter and quicker step, made his way to the Park, taking a seat by the drive, whence ho could see those who came aud went for a long distance. If Lady Betty cauie II nn I AFi'EPv THE fig::t. 129 out this mornln;;' ."*lu* would pas,s thisM-.u ; but he could see htT Hfnr imi iviiiv in time to eKc.ijt' iirr .lOiUe. Mjx Wallo-r was the centra "[" ras'ii(Mii;i.'ie p-is'-i]). it ilo\\>d to hi;r in litr!- .>!ipains as t(» a ivsiU'vois'. aiil t ,c rvc-it worM came fo di'ink. She had a hdsl oC hini'di- mini ;i;s. wlin.-e visits slir cncMi', ayed it thi'v onlv bi-mi ..ii i..iii'. >. Imi; ilenis ut' ii<-\v>. All iiMiu-iUter 'IVnii nadt'nj;-a_;<'d vwo Irieid-^ lu rirjiiCiri liirii Ml i.i.s due!, the intel!i?;eiiet! was rairied to Mrs. \Vullh in confidf'ration foi- Ladv JVlty she rot ailed ihe important infuii;iaii(in in seiT't to h< i- '. isitors, it I'ear'hod t' " girl'js qnick ear het'iui^ liiiihtfai'. :■: -l 'ci ;: liine .soover\^ hi'lineiiid liaA>' i un there and then to Tom's ehninbers and !.<'i;uil l.ini loi* ;Iie h)ve of her to with- draw from the enj^a^enient, had not Mis. Wallcer, to avoid 8UC'h an indecencv, assured her that Mr. 'laliiol liud ehanp'd his alxide. Then .'*he wished to write to Mr. (^rowe in-^^ lorinff him (o hokl his hand, but forttuiately Mrs. AV'alker contrived to flelay tlie sending of the letter until she had made her young' friend see that honour and polite usance both forbade any interference with pfentlemen engaged in the genteel busi- ness of seeking each other's lives. Yet tliough she was induced io submit to the guidance of her friend, no arguments could make her look at the affair as a delicate compliment to herself which she would one dav look back upon with pride; and nothinu- could keep her from bursting into tears at the mention of (he men's names. She liked Gerard, she loved Tom — .'-lu- ling.-nd to listen to the conversation touching the duel wiih rlieta.scination that attracts women to look upon a terrible p 'ssiljihtv ; but when the subject was exhausted, she escaped to lur lotm and gave herself up to grief. It was 80 awful to think that for n simple misur'derstanding the man who had befriended her, w!io, sh:' Jcnew, in his heart loved her sincerely, should die, and be for ever lost to her. Lady Betty was careless, frivolous, and thoughtless, but she was not heartless. She loved Tom more tiiorouurhly thau he in his jealousy could love her. She would have risked her life to spare him pain, but he in his sel(ishMe.s.s risked his life only thinking that it would be good to be rid of a tiresome e.vistence, and without consideration of the gvie his loss would produce upon Lady Betty, Lying sleepless in the dark the imagination is active, the roasoa torpid. As she lay upon her comfortless bed a hundred t \'.'.l I, TIC ":a n' r "iNADAS. •: il !» wild M'lii'ii) w i^i,;- prrv.'.uiiij; l.iie combat pi-.-..' I in rovinw lii'^'vo Lady i)iiHyV luiiid, and wiieu the Hrsi ^'liuipseof dawn eiitf'ed the window, she junipud up, delerniiui'd to escape from the house before tlie?erviints wtavi about, uiid g-oto the park, where she luid lieiird thf mei'ting- was to take place, and to throw lier- self betwet'U the swords of he;- hivcr and her frieml, T]«fore slie was safely out of the liouse she perceived tliat her project, so feasible in its first cone 'piion, was no nrtre tlian a torloru Itope. The precise tim(> of ineetinfi- was donbiful — the tVLact spot unknown except to principals and seconds, who were bound to keep it secret. She knt^w that she should oll'eiid Mrs. Walker; she feared that if she were fortunate enougli to find the party and prevent the fi rht, her interposition would oidy result in a piuvtponenient of the (hiel; but all these aryuments combined failed to divert her from ntttMn]itin^ tliat which was possilde to h(>r ; and her coiiraue was proof :i<>'ainst the sun'f^es- tions of d niiii'r whi(li>he felt in going-out alone and unprotected at that early hour. Mullled in a ' around lier ifi l>Iank despair, dismayed with her solitude, and shivering witii eyf-itenient and cold. An-.ther hour of fruitle:-.s wamh'ring and she found herself ngtiin in the same spot. Fler tears, which had been wifhlieM bv hope, now coursed down her clieeks. She felt lik(» a lost cliild. When nhti came into the avenue, which she recognised as that in which she had sal with Tom on tlie first day of her goitig out after her mother's deatli, hope was yoiie, and slie sat down to r.'cover her strength, feeling utterly worn out and wretcli-'d. The clouds wei'e breaking and showed that ttie morning was far advanced. " All is over now," she thought, and ih.en knowing that the result of tlie duid would be known early at Stanhope Street, stie rose quickly, left tlie park — a renewed anxiety giving her strength. She re-enter.-d tlie hou.se at the moment that the servants wer.' making inq^'iri-s about the unfas;ened cluiins and bolts up »;i th • 'io;n\ Tiiey s'a'e ! in blank astDuislim Mit to see her, deadly wliite and in a cl > I'i s )d leu with rain. Ii; at the St Vf^et, ir her iit the chiiins nii'iit V. In A'"! :^': t:^t^ :i:.;:it. VM I'cply to l)»n* ViUi; ! mm • - i(»iiiMi_r. tln'V .«iif1 IIki* (!•< vftf 7in vi.-i i.rs or iiios • i.;'is .1 ; 1 uni\^.i, iind u.-:.k>.a her a ml- kii»'W it \V!i8 only just ihrih'-.l 0'. ciuht. She tri('tM\ A ii) u.l r.M up. h -IptMl h;ir to ri>i'''i h '!• roo^n. nn ! : I'l ImvIii^' ;i«v r,;n 1. .\ ^ <> ••.ard put hi.s io >\ upoti tht.< ^t('p.•■. the do')r op ?!it']. ai;d i:f.s..,v i^a Jv Ix-tiy .Ntaiujii.^r Iwlori.' hiui Mi;iie as a irlio>j . '• What has happ"!i -i ;• '" she <'ti('d pn-.-siii^- foi-,v;i.d to ttH'ct hiu!. " Notliiiia' to pain you,"' a'l-i •" •• i ;J::ir!. '" i h.!\' v'l lr farf. Th<';"i' wan i'ri'nkfast aiw] V'-. "^Vji'l,-.'!- \-\ (|; > i!!.):-')iir:f-r'ioin, and thitlif!' Lai'v lictty I^d !ii>ia!-d wrli hystiTical u';d"ty. TliHV s;ii ai ;.il)U' uiid li .1 -]).ist trn, and tlu'U (I.'iar^!. set'iuii' tlia; i,,.:;, ik'tly ua.-. .-mI! in nn un:iainid >i«ii- of exciti'uieni. laop i-.'d ti.a' t. -y .sliuald l'o for a dri\'. Al :s. Walker d'cl;!i'i, dn' li a;i- l;i i:.; \>'t '00 .-arly '.or h-:- to appear in pnli'ir. I'lit ; i" ! ili. i t v, > i!d li- \v-!l ;'•»'• ;,;; ly Iv'.tty to takf tlit'iiir. >o l^ady lirli\ i-,' • up in !ii i- .•oiro jmd arrayed lii'r8:d^ in lior ln'st t^t Cfdidnviti- ih" day, aiid io ,!x iicr si'at in thp can i, ■';,'•»> radiar.t witli reacw d i'ly. The frt'sli air d.d not alhiy h^r i-xcil^au lit. and as slic entered the^iaik slu' hiu^lied to thinl< \\>>\\ inis-iahly wriich'-d slie had ■vvamh :•.'.! th^'rc • ut a f»'\v hours >ia(i*. Sai- .vas in u n;ood to h)ok a; all thii;s in t!air <:iy''s!, Iirii^hltsl a.-jt'Ct. .Shi' laii^^hod at evt'ry jcst.ai.d Mr. Aih'^I, w da. had no' hith-'ito Irhmi »?iioouiai-t'd to reijard hiiiisidf ;is a wit. H.ittvrt'd will; ili" rect*])lion j^ivi'it hy Lady IVtty to liis sli:r| t,.s' rallies, t>\"rit'd liimsidt' to til" utmost to Itc a ;,!••'(', dih* .and wiity. And .*.o. Iiritrhr aial hcaiititul, lu'r lui'ui'niii^^-drt'.-^s tlisi aiih-d, and r(^pla<'(>d with a (.'ostunieof co |UL'!ii.«.n t'a.^iiinnju'id'ace I nam- ing with sunny mirth, nnrii:g''i,'d hi'for.' Tom's eyes, ]i;'sst'd, si'ting beside tilt' man vdio h.id Hiallcnged hini.ani w'.y-/t-r/.v with the grinning dandy who had served as his second. 9-2 I J :r 132 LT!;i":i:^' .NT r.'/:v.\nAS. 3 . " I nii;^Iit liH (Iciid and buried, iind tlu; very stone rotting over me, htr all .she thinks of me," suid 'io!ii, witli ii groan. Then he ninu'd hia downcast face towards llolboru, having now no iurtlitT wish to gratify. CHAPTER XXVIII. AT THE " LONK CROW." On the out.slfirts of Woking- village stood an inn called the " Lone Crow," a broken-down inn that Iiad lost all traces of respectability, if ever it had pretended to respect. The stable gate was broken and patched with apiece of the broken horse- trough, the windows were broken and stufftd with otherwise useless articles of apparel, a corner of the square brick-chimney was brok(>n,the thatch was broken and mended here and there with tufts of heather, and la^t of all the sipn was broken, and only the tail end of the " lone crow" was left in the frame. It was six in tlie evening, and the rain, which had been falling with steady persistency since midday, fell still witli undiminislied pertinacity; nevertheless a tvaveller with ordinary scruples would have declined to takfi shelter there, though all oiher inns in Woking were full, and he had to trudge on to Bagshot for a bed. Lieutenant Barnabas Crewe, however, wa:i as free from ordinary scruples as the host of the " Lone Cro\'- " could desire, and so, when he cauglit sight of the inn, wliose di.sznal exterior was to some degree redeemed by the reflected glow of a fire upon the dirty surviving panes of tlie window, he reined up his stee , and as Slink came to his heels, said : " This looks like a good mn ; we will put up here out of the cursed weather." Slink minht have had his doubts about the appearance of tlie inn, but he was entirely at one with his master respecting the weather, so he slipped off his gasping liorse without a word, and applied the butt of his whip to the stable-gate. " Ilei ! hei ! hei I " called the host from within, in response to the vigorous appeal, "do you want to knock the blessed a'ate off its hinjres ? " It wouldn't be much th said lie worse tor a new pair. Slink, regarding the ingenious arrangement of old rope and shoe-leather by which the gate was connected with the post. The host, having opened the door of the inn and seen at a AT TITK "LOXE CV.OW." j;:m of planfo tlifi qii ilfy of liis visitors, run romifl to the h;ifk of tin' lioust', r id wiili iis much ypeed as possible upifiicil the ^ate, which wu.s nor, to lis dune in th(' niiMV tiii'uing- a kry, forscviTal b(>ainswluch s(M'v«'d to shore it up had fiisl to he removal, and then the gate required (vireful lillini'- in order tlmt the weij-hf and strain mic^ht not fall so licax il\ ii])on the sliftc-lcather a> to over-tax itw strength, which (ouM have but out- n-suh — th<' fall and utter ruin of the gate. " You'd best jump d(,'uii here, Captain, and go ii ro thi- house by the front-door: the yard's; u hit moLst-I ki' wiili tl, • damp," said the host. "T'll look a!'>M 'h • ho. s(^<."' *' Oh no, you won't," said liainabas, dismounting. " f want my horse fed; my man will look after the V.ov--(.«" "Oh, that's your sort, is it p " said rh^ host, sulii'idy. " Well, in that case, your man ean gei throuuii tlu- yard a-* \\' years whicli festered in the yard. The stable was in a better st;it" of re])air than ihi> bouM', because, perhaps, the proprietor, not ft'"!ii)': bi';i<"U' fi jl.-d upon to regard e.xternal appmranees in tluit wiiich wds less exposed to the public notice, had not ]i!!tclud it. It \vi:s jis iNature had ruiuh^ it, an unpretentious ruin. At the dry end of the barn — it made no pretence to be a s;-i))lr, e.xcevjl in Im: lug a trough against the wall, and a horsey s.i:e]l- woe a cow.'' d an ass, which Slink pvomplly removed to make room fi'r bis own cattle, whose well-being was now the sole obje<-t of all bis cares and hopes. iMeanwhile, the landlord of the " Tjone rrow''--n +bi'•K'-s^'t. heavy man, with a l>rokeii nose and other facial p' euli;Mi'.ies of a pugilist — having shored up his u'ate. returned to bis tap-i-oom. where he founut no jjcnl Ii-mt'ii. mul if I <1\<1 it «in'( verv liKoly 1 hIioiiM nsi< iidh lor iiilni iiiiitinii. \ nmy linvo littd nu)i't' g(»nt« n-ltnol to ji;i\»> n <'ro\vn tlowii iind iny »tiirnj>s wlint lIuMif" " \VI\y tht'ti. Cnittnin. out y»> f^o, Yon onn wiiIU out or I'll pnt yon ont, \vIu«mi yo\i liKf iiny\, iind yonv hoiHi's nftor him. Ini nni pint icnliii' it' it ronn'N to m tnrn-n;). A fniv winninif .'in for^cttin^' yonrsclf. niy lint' I'cUow," suid Murnalm.", ilislilxinii' tli»> look ol tliin^-s. " Hoti't yon four, tin- \\OUing W nllii|i'>f's ^o\ ton L'^uml iin jipinion of liisscll' to foiyot wlio he is. ' "(Hi. if yon'ro llu> W olun^• W oIIojut I lint niiiKcM ii dilYiTt'iuMv Von ran go nnti tnkc the sliirnps." " .\nil till' crown !' " " Thoiv,'" narnnba.'< tlivrw down a f'n)wn-pi(>('<' with ii'lnrtnnnv " 'rhat'.-* hnsino.'is. Now wo'll slniki' hiind,<*and h'ad olT. I'll take oaiv (>f the fs ; tliey nhnn'i li'avo my .■^ii'ht .yon miiy >vag«M'. Will you cook tlu> nMUiwagoH yovu'solf P " •'A' 08." *' Thon tln« mi.s.xi.*» shall In-ing 'i-tn to yon. Now we kncnv oarh (Mher. '.M«k»» yonr match and conic to the scratch,' there's a mottcr for yon I " When Slink entered the tup-room he found iii» master in his .**hirt-.>»le«>ve8 a-.»it rntldle before the .^rordiing tire that burnt y\\\o\\ the hearth, shieldinjr his face with one arm, while with the vilher han»l he hekl a long-hantilcd frying-pan in which a couple of pound.s of ."^au.sages were hi.ssingantl .sizzlintfover th« enihiMs. Slink di.>*po.-icd of his w«'t coat, and .sat down with tl at patient silence and iniinobility which characteri-sesccf mtry .«ier\ants in the presence of their proper lords. In due conr.se tnasler and man dined together, the Walloper supplying their want.s with the utmost a.s.siduity now that they bad .sliaken hands and were working .steady, according to the rules of the ropes, us he put it. lie even l>ronght a pair of shivs for Slink to wear while bis own dilapidatt'd boots — wliich bad been giv«'n him in exchange for the perfect ly sound pair that the Lieutenant now wore — were drying. After dinner IWnabas lit a long clay pipe, cleared a comer of the table, drew up his chair so as to command a view of the i!'* I AT 'V]r.'. •• f n .K fKoW," i.v. flrw, fttlH l)i'iii|j;ing' n ])nrl{ of ilirty cMnls Ctfiiii liis ]ir)cl;('t, nnddj.d to HIink, wlio, in rcHpfUiHo, ])l(i(;('<| h\n clniir I'iit-n-rifi miiIi lii(< mnstnr, nnd liciiviti^ ii Mim-)) lioli of t'c-ji^riidtifni, lirKi'd )\\h (in^'cr mid tliiiinli. \\'illi iiidilnt innlilt' piiticiici' Uni iimImm lind lnu|flit liin fnllnwcr t(» jdiiy ])i'(nM», find now rvnytd (lie itw md of liis |)i\iiiH l)y i<'|u'iilfdly (Itt'ciiiix 'lii'i every nit;li( of \\ Imt cluMific romiiiiif'(| from i!ii' .■^iim ln' liiid >:i\fti liiiir in Hie rnorirMijf. 'J'liwro wns nn piny in f li»' jfinnt', for Mlinlt lin'i Im imilic idi liin (•nli'nliilioti.M villi his (in^t'iv^, iitmI wiim slow »' tlmt. Mnt Hanialiiis Imd ii (■♦•ilniii sciinh of liiniioiir wliii li v^kh licUcd hy tliH prvorN of liiH ndvcrwiiy, and tli«' fiilt oiif flio twenty-four eardH, wisliin;^ from lit" l.oifoni of liis soul flial lie nii^''lif lie lucky ('non(,di lo lri,-*e |ii-< iwo and fonrjieiice l(v a sin^'le IuhkI, I'.iif there wiih ri' h leli Inek for him. Mis cards Av»M'e so jirovokiiiuly (ff)od ilnii noiliintr Imt ilie in|4'ennitv of I /ieiilcitniit ('rewe jirevented liis iiiiddiiir '' cniifit time afler t inie. If, endt ii vonrino to tenniiiiife the ^anie, lie tlirew iiwiiy tlire«( ucefl, lie jiicked up t1ire»i kinj^s of tlie same suits, and when he dis'virded a quint to tin- kmiv", he tfiok up ant)llier to the ace. iMirlnne o])i o-r-d his Insintr, I'.anwihfi-j tfiok foro that he should not win. Slink lon(,'ed to he with his liorses in the stahle - to lip anyAvher« exfept wiili his tiu^'-fer playing pii(net. It was ofl.eiAvi^e with I'liinnha-, Ihediffi- riilt V of wiiininjf ajrainst such < aids, and the necessiiy of havinjc Slink's money, -were a /i st to the fjttine whir h nnsdi! him in no liiivvv to finish it. With the \ illajri-rs there had diopp d in 'liiriiif^' the eveninjr a lied Inr, a loud, red-faced ni^citl, wiili a husky voice jmd an Irish hroifiie, who laid liim,-elr out to nnins • the conipany, and Mieceeded to a marvtd. lie told stories with wilt\ points, a littln broad, pcrha]i.M, hnt hiicIi uh all who IkmimI could nnder- Hiand and lan(.fh at : and he s;v\jr son^^'s Irish halliid-.and the po])tilar .song.s by Mr. Dihdin, and all with tin; sjmie (;horns, in "which everyone conld join without reference to the snhject, Avords, or tune, and witli an accompaniment of feet and «mpty pot8, % Iff \m T,TErTi;\.\M i;a! N \I?A.S. Now Sliiil< lovi'd luuMU; ; in IiIn ImiipuMMluvH Iip <'<)iilflhimRti!f Niriff when culled ii]<()n, and nl.so lie mliniicd wit of llin l)road kind ; no when lie lu'iird the .sin;;iii;r iukI liiii^fhlt;)' he ft'lt. thai he could have given his ears to know whul it was all about, anil to join in flu' ^n-nenil jullily. Mii( his niasy Sliiijc was so bewilib-red that liecoidd not tell tiie difTereiice between the king of diamoinls and the acic of spades. 'I'hen the latullord of tlie house came and interfered. " Captain," said be, " it's I inie to pull up the stakes for ibis bout. There's a time for everything, as the motler says." " Another candle," deiininded liariial)as. Slink giitatied. " No more candles to-niglil. I 'apt a in. And as you don'! know your way about the premises, I udvis($ you to go to bed while your wi( k's liurning. ' "In that case, Slink, this must be a drawn game, and — " sweeping up the money, " .<«o we are quits." " Oil, fair and sijuare ! " in'erfenvl the landlord. " I'd get a candle if you're in the middle of a roiuid.'* "No — the master's won — we're quits," cried Slink, throwing up the cards, hastily. " Well, if it's a drawn mut^di— both principals agreeijig — it's another thing; and now I'll show you (lie way to your room. There's a bed for you, Captain, aJid another for your man." " ]Mi!ch obliged to vou. master, but the l(.ft for me," said Slink. The privilege of sleeping in hay-lo!'ts was jealon.sly main- tained by Slink, because in the first ])Iace. it was more agree- able to lie upon < Kan straw than in the nuisly rooms of the iini.s they frequented, and secondly, it afforded him a temporary escape from the society of Lieutenant Marnabas Crewe, CHAPTER XXTX. IN THE LOFT. Having shaken some fresh clover in the trough, and given a parting caress to his horses, Slink, lai.tern in hand, scaled '^he n' IN Titr: f-oiT. 1ST Imldttr tiiM ixTprii licii]i)rly ugainst tlio wall, and Honunblcd on to lilt' floor of llif loll. " llilloH ! W'lio ffoea P" cried a voice from the obscurity. Slink ruined his laiitfrn, and lookiii^r in tlie direction fi-otn which tho voico })rocet;r bundle of bay, Ar;::.\nA3. ' I - they luid ir.U'le 'wiih tlm Imy — " take the IntiibU' to pn^ your nose to that, uiid tnll me wlijit is your true opinion of ut r ^' " It Miiiclls go()\\ate iiitluenue of each other's society," " I'm your man," said Slink, senteniiouxly. " By Saint Moses, yir uiy friend, s(nr ! " The pfdlar li.'nl already tasted the usquehaiifrh, and ids soid was touched with characteristic celerity. " Y'an^ ab(.ut the fiiie.>t Saxon and the hist friend I iver liad in my life. (Jive us your hand, and putt your lips to the delicat" mou'li of the bottle. If ye hadn't woke me up, by tlie powers I shoiddn't liave pom' to sleep ai^in for the rest of the nifrht. I'm .iliout the mi.seralilest num to lie alone that iver molested society : but with a c unpiinion to talk to and a bottle to drink at wliiirroh ! pass thetlailint to me." " Will yon siufT a son^"- now P " "Will I sing you a song! hunthreds.. What s'l.dl it be, somethin' n;eltiti and swiite M" the ' Leather Ihveches," or somethin nate and purty a*^ - it swateheartin'." "Sweetheavtiiiir,' said Slink, with a sigh for his lost Jenny. Without any preliminary hesitation, the pedlar sany an Iri>li ballad, and with such tenderness, that Slink, who thought of .lenny all the while, was moved to tears at the third verse. Flattered by this tribute to his pov,-er the jtedJar, v. !io like the rest of Ids countrymen, was an excellent emotiomilist, redoubled his efforts, and absolutely v pt in sympaihy, when Slink having tried iji vain to assuage his teais with the l)ack of his hand, laid his arm on the hay and his face on his arm, and sobbed . " Take a taste from the bottle, my friend," said the pedlar, when he had iinished. Slink held out his hand, ai>d as he took the bottle, mur- mured in a voice still choked with grief: " Now let's have a story." •* Ah, and you're a man after my own iieaH. i'e'd smoile an' soiyh bv turns. Did v' ever hear of the old woman who lost her darning-needle ? " " No-oh-oh-oh ! " answered Slink, laughing in anticipation, as a vague suspicion of tlie hishly diverting circumstances in which she discovered the whereabouts of the missing article flashed across his mind. "No-oh-oh-oh I" BLARNEY. 139 " It's a nioif^lity divarting story, so here poos." And lie went forthwith, tellin<^ the .simpln anecwlote with such dry humour that Slink luid toliold hi»sidt',s,(;ro88 hiHl^fifs, and bend double uuder tlie painful dilHculty of dvawiiijr breath, 80 violent was hiw laughter — tinally in a feclth' voice crying, "Don't — don't!" wlieu the pedlar brought his story to the long withheld climax. After that the pedlar sang " Tom Rowlintr," and for the «nke of good fellowship introduced ij chorus of " I)"rrv,derrv down," in which Slink exhibited the stretiQrth of his lungs with sucli prodigious effect, that the p'dlar thought it wist* to let him have the chorus all to himself, and merely marked time with his pipe, while he kept a steady eye on the rafters. " Y ave u foine voice, my darliiit," said 'he pedlar, when the song was coifluded — " A foine voice for the open air." " Tiumk you, master. I'll sing you a song if you like." " I shall apyvaciate the obligation. Let it be a throitle sub- dued, case the landlord shoidd feel oiuiisey about liis property." Slink nodded, took a drink, wiped his lips, and with the simple aiuiouncenient, " 'Are an' oun's, gents,* sang that admi- rable song, " The Hare and the Hounds." After that the cocks for several miles round awoke and crowed in defiance. ; CHAPTER XXX. BLARNKY. t m Thf. two friends coiitinntd their mutual entertainment long after the candle in the lantern had pa.Msed awav. They could sing, and laugh, and cry just as well without a light as with it ; the only difference that the darkness made to them was that the bottle had to be nursed with care, and handed backwards and forwards frequently for an assurance of its safety ; but when the bottle was emptied their voices grew feebler, and unconsciously they fell asleep. For awhile there was peace, but just as the outlines of objects became visible in the opening light of the mornino', two shrieks broke the stillness of the hour. Two shrieks in q uick succession — the first from the pedlar, the second from Sliuk — and then followed a hurried dialogue. " Mv frind — my frind — have you got ut ? " " Got it ? I should think I liave— what is itP " " A rat. — a rat. I felt it at my throat. Holy saints ! another no LinUTLNA N'l' R\ RN \ I'.AS. III!;; IM w II p ' Js^ 1' mntncnt and my veins would hiivp bpon HnrUnd — 't\vn« a viim- ]jin*. I guized uin by the tliruut, uiid Hung it into thti atui().>»- pliaire." " Ves, and it fell on my f-liin." " And wliat liavn ymi doin; w«d it P" "Nothing. Lord Harry! it's broken my shin." "And im<1 whs returninp" to his synipaliiisin^f friend when he slipped his foot, and unin- jure"'dent gentleman. " l''rap8 ye'li tell mo if he's u Capiun P " pursued the pedlar, •with Hoft persuasiveness. "lie's a cut above a Captain, I can tell you, he's a Lieu- tenant." "What, a rale soldier P faith, tlien, we're as like as twin cherries, for I was a sergeant myseh' at wan time. And what regiment was he in P " " You don't suppose he was in a regime^ t like r common soldier, do youP lie wos a Lieutonunt all to himself ; one of the independent Lieutenants." "I apnraciate the distinction, an' I respect themisther for it. I knew he was somethin' out of the common the ftrst morment I saw him. He's not wan of your civil spokin' maley-mouthed varments; but a rale aristocrat, with a gintalo curse and a scowl for anyone that asks liim a civil quewtion." " Yes, that's him." " The quality, my boy, quality. An' oi'l wager,, now, he dots nothin' in the world at all but ride about the co.mtry brakun the hearts of the famale sex and a pickin' their pockuts." " No, he don't," said Slink, in a tone of feeble oppo,sition. "Come, my boy, you're thrying to decaive me by .sayin' nothun. You don't think I'm a dirty informer, that would sell the gallant Lieutenant to the constables for a paltry reward, do you P " " Not I." " Thin whoy should you try to dcoaive me P 'Tisn't behavin' like yeself at all. I didn't think you would he so mane after sharing my bottle of usquebaugh, and persuadin' me to ait up all the night a singin' ballads to ye, and teliin' all the best stories I knowed." " I — I — 1 don't want to be mean. I'm very much obliged to you for your kindness. I — I never enjoyed myself better in all my life, and if I could repay you for your knidnoss, I would with all my heart." " But ye can niver repay me, darlint. Disinterested friend- ship is priceless. So what does the masther do now, ridin' about wid a servant at his back ? " ' vVell, there's a rascal who owes him a lot of money, and — and he's looking about for hiio, and — and — and he don't seem to quite remember the looks of him, and — and — and when he meets anyone all alone, he just lool:s in his pocket to see if the money belongs to him, and — and if he's in doubt he takes it," i 142 i,i!:;ri;NANi' |{ai;nai;.\m. li ■' i;fHS i-v.^ pl^li^H; 'sAH ' ' *'' i»» 1 'fiBfl B rjlj i ,1 ..11 •':.!.' ii!nl llic iiiitiir' of llif iniisiliff's minfortiiir i'xui.lly ; iiiul wlini iniglit yf)ii do all tlic time ':'" ** W liy, I jii.'^t Miuiii iciidy to licln master, if ncods be; for if we iiiiM'i (ln) ri^Iit riiKCHJ utter all, it's n.(,/.' mi' likuly ho'll try to ;,«■; HWiiy without ]iayinj,'' !'' " ".I II -I jin'coi.st'Iy so." The jx'dlnr reppatnd the wo^d'^ nprain nil i (i;. dill, rutlier tliim he silent dniinj( tliH period li(> pave to rellfciion. then lie sai 1 : " And y'ave Tiioighty fond of the pro- i(,'!s^irl.s. Now 'ndl uie, l;>il me true now— wud ye loikc another sitiwalion Y " Slink afier a nioiiienl's feverish heHilati(jn, bent over and v.'Iiisp -red : " I cun't leave liini. (Jod help me." " ^^'hoy, davlint :- " Slink dared noi s]>.'ak. " Spake, my dear friend, spake. Trust me now." " Tak'c your oath you'll I ell no one." " I wad lake my dyin'oalh ado/,«Mi t()imes,dailint. Do you think I woiilii betray ye ? Sjiake and tro.st mu loike your own blessed mother." " 1 - I was a simple sort of lad, once." ' "And y'are sim])le, simple as the innocent sheep — g'on darlint." " And I was so driiv up into a corner like with t,\<'. cruelty of my sweetheart, as 1 didn't half know what I was doing, and I met the Jiieuienant, and he said he was a gentleman wanting a servant, and he peisiiaded me to run away from the Hall where \ was groom, and he made me lielieve that I had the sam(» right to talce the horse I rode as the livery I Avore, and when I felt uneasy like about it, he gave me hisliorse and took mine to make me think I was safe, and then we began to go abfuit the country, and raced the baker " "Stop one mi ineni I don't quit" understand the tarmes of the prol'fssiotj — and what do you niaut^ by racing the baker P " Slink recounted the advt ntm-e with the baker, and continued — "So things Avent on from bad to worse, till I see at last tho whole truth when his honour robbed a butcher's wife of six- teen pence, and we had to bolt for our lives when we caught sight r> r » • • ■- T" • tn of a roiiplt' of ou'n'iihli's at our Iwv'h. I ".V!H I'or ^fivinj^ Im'M my lior.sc iiiid Ifiivini^ lli»! !iiiis1<'i* ii^-vl iliiy. lull \i<' uM.iilii U(;( •!}'.! the lior.Ht>, uikJ swron lie woiil I hlnw my briiiu- o it ri:- n'w*' liv> lip to tlio liiw U!il liiivf; iru' liiill;^''i'il for lir)r> ■ s "iliiifj, if I iliilii'l l((M^p true to ill ;:. \:iil ii uv -I'm n niin'i! num. and iniiy (iml fdv^'ivn tiic." "Tilt' Lifiii irnahas ( h-cwc ' " linrncy (Jirwe I I'liiili 'lis a moi.'hiy oiM ac-i'l'tif . I'l'll me tnio now. Do yoii know unyf him.; or liin fmnily r.dui ions y " " I luivc! TH'V('r sfcn any. " "You tiHVKr hcanl hiiTi Mjn-ik of tln'in in his cfinv.M-M ition wid ve ? " ** >Ve novor liave any conversation -nxcepr ur piqui-f." " llc'.sfrof the .small-pox, too, an' ho inoig'Iit hi' ahont thirty judrs of ui^'c." "Yes; what of that P" " You nivt'.r InMid him spuku of any on !" X-)\v, re(;ollept yourself, and don't .'-p.iki' till ye cu}] answi'c.' " He ii.s(!d to a-k a j^ood many (|ni'stion.s ahont my old master," Slink replied, after scjuih mii.uies of i<'Heetion, " and Doetor Blandly." " Docthor I'dandlv ! An' what was vonr old master's name y" "Admiiarnilhot." "Admiral Tall(ji I .Merciful p(r>ver8! An' h.ia J>.i-ney seen thoold Admiral?" "The Admiral's deaer to ye thtit I'm all the kilh and kiti v'ever luid in the wurld thiit's loft t.» ye r " What the devil do you mean ? " " f'an you rnde, RnriKty ? " linked the pedlar, bringinpeiJ 10 i^w^^ffWP 146 tT"!-.! NANT UAHN'MU.^^. tiie circiirTrslHiiCi'- (»i lii.s uiill. t^ouu' uicl whica woii'.J enable liiin t(i turn tlu* tal)a^s on l)(u tir Ulandly, imd font' liiui to int'reii.st' the .sum lu> paid witli >such reluct ance. The pedlar qiiiculy returned wit a tlie rum, but he would not spoil tlu* pleasuie of drinl>iiig it by a line of conversation which might engross their ihoiig;i;s toj de^'ply. He confined himself to general remarks nntil the cup was drained, tiien he returned to the subject wliich J»:irnaba.s was now eager to pursue. "Barney, my boy, I've soniethuu to tell you uv moiglity importance. Ye nuist know that I've had the honour of slupein' in the same chamber wid your valet, an' a proud moment it was when I diskivered that it was my own son tliat kept a sarvent and horses, an' did not hi n" in the wurld but ride about the counthry like a gentiennm. lie's a dacent sort of a boy, your valet, but ye give him too mucli liberty, IJariiey, and any wan but your own lather would have peisuaded liim to turn King's evidence agin ve for tlie paliry reward offered for tUo apprehension of the likt's of you." " Wlnit has lie told you -confound him ? " " Nothun'at all, nothun' in the world. But be careful wid him,darlint." " Go on." " When I larnt vour name I just d'Ascendedinto the fresh air and took a stroll up an down under ilie bh^ssed sky of lieaveu till tlie man opei'cd IIk; house, and ol! the ti:ne I was a-thinicun', Barney, and a-tlatdvun, with all the power of my mind, and I said hitarnally, ' There's tlie h'lnd of a merciful Providence in all this, andsomethin'a to he madi> out of ut, or my name's not Barney OOewe.' Jiut first and foi-emost, my boy, we must have no resarve, we must rivranee the holy tie that binds us together — father and son, and kape no .secrets. 80 before I whisper a word ye'il just undersiand that we're to go halves, share and share alike in the blessed gifts that Providence may siiower upon us.'' ** Halves ; all right." Barnabas saw no object iwn to making promises which only his word could bind him to keep. " I'll trust ye, Barney, I'll trust ye becase y'are uiy own son, and becase it'll be to vour own interest to iiape yqur word. Now, tell me true, darlint, do you know your own brother ? " " Gerard ? Little enough. lie's in London, living the life of a lord, and a beggarly guinea or two now and thevi is all I get out of him." Barney O'Crewe reflected a moment, then — *' And that'.-^ all vou know about your brother.'' " he said. « That's ttU." ^^^^T^ A liKIItosPECT. m " And Doctor P»l;tii lly — what do you know of himP " " lie gives nie two lumdied a year, and threatens to stop it if I don't humble rayself like a cur when I go and take the quarterly allowunce/' " And d'ye happen to know what he pays you the money " No— that is— no." "Don't decave me, darlint ; y' hesitated. What was you about to spake !"* "' " I believe he pajs i^ to me not on his own account, but for .«ome one else." •' iMisther Talbot, the son of the Admiral ? " "Yes." "An' y('U don't know what for he pays it?" " No. I tried to find out. but the old .'icoundrel promised to .•i swate widder. She was nayther yonii^'- nor beautiful, but she looked prosperous, and a saucy leer in her eye seemed to whisper to my soul that shed more property than she knew what to do \vi(l alone. Says I to myself, ' liaruey, mydarlint, there's the ■\vite that's waitun for ye.' " I walked on a hundred ya}(ls and then turned round. She'd turned round aqually, and when we drew nair she dropped her fan, which I picked up \<'id all the prrace imaginable, and presented to her wid an iligantspach — which my own masther would have been proud to have spaken. Ye may be sure I didn't lose the opportunity which rrovidenre liad given me, and before I left lier I liad talked all I knew about lieartn and darts, and Cupids and Nanuses, and perisliin' anl languisliin,' an' all what Id heard ujy masther sayun in similar situations, and made an appointment to meet her tlie next day. She wanted me to Avrite a letter, but I wodn't agree to ut, for writing a letter winild have placed me in a moighty awkward predicament, seeing 1 didn't know the letter A from a bull's fut. I towld the swate craturthat my passion was too strong for writun, and I must see her and spake to her wid my eyes or parish in despair. " That's tlie way you must spake to the female sex to plase 'em. Thank the powers, my masther's wound grew worse in- stead of better, and so I conth rived to mate the widder again and again in his foine embroidered clothes, and I made love to her just for all the world as if I maned it. And so matters went on flourishing until the masther's wound growed aisier, and he began to suspict me, and I saw that I must make my hay all of a huny afore the storm came. " I was not wi'ong in my ideas ; the widder was prosperous. Her husl)and liad left her two thousand po;nids and an iligant shop in the dra])ery business. So as there was no time to lose, I proposed to the swate crater, and married her the very day my nmsther got well enough to kick me out of the house, borrowin' a suit of clothes for the occasion of agintleman that made it his trade to buy up old coats of the gentry's sarvints. The widder was moighty siu'prised when she found that 1 had nothun at all in the wurld but the clothes I stood in, and them not my own; but she was too much bot'iered with love to take a thritle like that to heart, and before a week was over she had forgiven me everything, and was ph'.sed to let me have all that I naded, includin' a pock^JuU of money. So then I was a rale gentleman, Barney, wid nuthun to do but to spend the widder'n money, get drunk, and make love to the gals. it.i! ■ A RETROSPECT. 149 *'I hadn't been married more than a month when I fell daspprate in love with a cbarminf,'- enitur, who played the pieces with delicate sentiment at the Kinf^'s Theatre inCovent (warden. Her name was Patty Davir and f till you true, P>rney, that I cried till I was ashamed oi self in sympathy wit 1 '^r vartue and innocence when I saw her representin' Ophnlia. I loved her the first time I saw her, and to the vorey last I loved lier sincarely and hardly anyone better, I bon^-lit her jewels, I bought her fine dresses, I lavished the widder's money upon her as if it was wather. " But, onfortunately that could not go on for ever, and wan day I had to leave the widder for evar because of a writ that was out against me for debt, which she hnd not tlie money to discharge, bad cess to her ! I never see her agen." " Then what lias she got to do with my affairs r* " asked Barnabas, " Nothun, darlint." •'What on earth is the use of wasting time about her ? " " Don't be s' impatient, my boy. Sure it's phising to you to know that your father's been a rale gentleuian." " Let me know something of the matter that you told me was of importance," " I'm comun to ut, Barney, Ye nmst know T liad my roivals, and amongst 'em was a captun- a post captun in the navy, Captun Talbot, a man quite young, loike niysflf, but with no more knowledge of the wurld than a babe. lleM tuk to the sea as a boy and never left it except when he came home from a voyage, and so it was only raisonable that he shoidd be iuiio- ceut and simple, and tender-hearted ; but he was about as strong as a lion, and just as ready to Hglit, " Now, Patty was as foine an aetress off the stao-^ as she was upon ut, and Avhen I towld her that the game was pleyed out and the bailifTs was after me, she made up at once to young Captun Talbot, and leavin' me with a laugh at one side of tlie stage, went round to liim at t'other Avith her eyes t'ldl of teais and a moighty tourhing story of her innocence and teiriptations, and the want of some lovun' soul to shield her from the bitter hardships of her lonely life, I'll t'dl you her motive, Barney — she expected you to come into the world before many months, and she wanted to find another father foryou as could give you a home worthy of you, my boy: a name and a fortune, such as you deserved — do you take ray maning,° " " I understand — go on." "Now, Captun Talbot was a widderer. He had married three years before ever lie see Patty, and his wife died ^PPipi 1 I, ivi lAv T :na>:;' "A:;N.\r.A.s. ill ;^i\;iiy l>iiili to ln-r liiHt ami only child — a son cliriMtened 'riiDiiiii.i." " I know -wrll ? " " The soi: irrvw Mtmii;,'' and lioarty, but t ho father bein' forced to go a-travflliiig al)()iit on tlw seas, was ol)laig»id to leave him to tlie tender niiM'cies of a nuRs, Patty saw tlie son, then two year ol I, and cried lier eyes out over him, and the C/antain, loiiclied by lier delicale perforunince, ast her if slie would be a mother to his l»oy, and give up ihe «tage and all her London fri'-nds to live in tlie ('ountry us his wife. I'atty wanted nolhiin h.'Mer, so siu' lifted up Iier face all streainun with tearf^ and kissed him for a reply, ihe scaiie took ])lace in her dress- ing-room, where the Captain had come wid a bit of a girl earryiiig the babe— come so snddintly that I had oidy just toiiii" to sli]) heiiin 1 a long hooj)ed gownd that hung in a corner. " Well. IJjiiiiey, the next (biy T was nabbed by the bums and put into the rieet for a debt of four hunderl pounds. It was thrt'e years before I got out, and havun' tiothun' in my pocket and nothuM' in my stomach by the same t(>ken — my first thoughts were of Patty, and that day I walked to Sevenoaks with nouglit but watJH r and crusts to eat on the way, and at night r rang the bell at the gates of Talbot Hall. It naided all tlie paisevairaiice of my characther to obtain an interview. When i did I found Putty as white us a ghost, sitt in' wid you at her feet struggling to got at the cat with your silver rattle -y' had a foine spirit on you even then, Barney, and your brother Gerard at her breast, whoile the Captain's eldest son, Thomas, was sitting in a chair by your brother's side, Patty rang the bell, and had Masther 'I'om tuk ;n away, 'case he was foive years old, and eliildien's moighty forrard talking about what's not nnidecl ; then she says, ' Mr. O'Crewe,' she says, ' what do you want I" ' 1 towld her as I loved her sincairely, and bridged her to pack up her jowels and fly wid me to a happy and bli.isfnl hoauie. She refused p'int blank, and I shed tears at her inijrratitude and infidelity. She said she had done* 'wrong, bu! she would make reparation by living a good life, and being a dacent mother to her husband's children. Though I loved her sincairely, I lost my temper, and T said, ' Keep your husband's children, but Pli have mine,' and with that I catched hold of you, my boy.' ' Oh, my God,' she cried, * What are you going to do?' ' I am going to take my child away,' .■iuys r, 'and if Captun Talbot asks for him, you can send him to rae for an explanation.' That brought your mother to raison. ' How much money do you want to leave me in peace li '^ A !;!• r;:«t>i':; 'f. 1-' \ 1 witli my childronP' sho ank^fl. Wnll. my hoy, T tnk a few pdiiiuiH ami (III iligimt- jewel sho wore ut ln':- tliroiit to gr) mi wi(i, aiul I forg'ave her wid a free heart, ami h'h her in \mm*\ she imploriii' me not to come ajrain, as every day she expt'ctfl her hiishaiid to n^furn. T ])roniist'd, and miidf up niv nioiii'l to 1. I pronii should mi III I III- caine Mile III) m ! !iv iifiivi II re( kape my word, ciiMe I But, onfortunately, I have, I must admit ut candidly, I have wan fault." "Ah! drink." "No, Harney, that is not a fault. .My fault i.s, that when I'm dronk 1 lose my sober sense.s. Well, when, after livin' in a neighbouring' tavern like a lonl for u mom li, wan day I happened to lie a little bit oiider the iiiHiicrice of the ble.ssed fift of natur', I tnk ut into my head that I would go up to the lall and g-et u few pounds. I ranir the liell, and n iiiiin cuiiie from the porter's lodge with his rollar tiirnt'i] high up, for it was devilish rainy weather. Iwasalmost bloind druiil<, !>iirn"y, and when he asked me what I waiitfid, I was too busy hoi liii' myself up by the gate-post to look at uin much, so I .•^aid, ' I want to see Patty — Mr.s. Talbot,' and T laughed.' * Do you know your way ? he asked, with devilish cii;ining, and 1, loiUe a poor, simple, guileless soul, answered, * To be sure 1 do; I only wish I had as many silver shilluns as I knew niy way.' He opened the gate for me, and in 1 stai^-gered, like a blessed lamb into the shambles, I rovvled up to the house, and goun in by the sarvints' entrance, as was natral to me, I tiiinliled up the stairs, and bust into the room wh^^re Patty was sittun. 'Great Heavens!' cries Patty, 'leave the hou.se at once, my husband has sent me a message telhiii as his ship's ii' port, and he will be wid me this night.' I nodded and says, ' 1 met the messenger at the lodge, and a decent sort of a crater l)e seems. Give me some money, and I'll go away at once.' She sruv me a purse, but I liappened to ketch the sparkle of an iligant ring on her finger, and the divil was in me to have that too, 'Darlint,' I says, ' ye'U give me the jowil that twinkles hroight as your beautiful eyes on your finger.' ' No,' says she; 'he guv ut me, and he'll want to know what's gone of it ; ye shan't have ut,' slie says. * As you like,' says [, * but if 1 can't have the ring, I'll have my own flesh and blood. I'll have my dear, swate httle Tliaophilus to bagin wid,' and I ketched hold of you, for Tliaophilus was the name she'd gnv you, my lioy ; but you worr a moighty oiiainiable cliyild, and ye began to scrame thunder and blazes, when the door opened and in came the man in the long coat as ud opened the gate to me. ' Marcif ul powers I ' scramed Patty, dropping down on :ii h\ / t i m I.IKUTHNWT u\i;>:.\i}AS. I'r 1 1 ilU i ii ih. ■ i 1: I he hure, ' mv hunbund ! ' iiti'd followed me and heard all my indiscretion. " C(jnfoiind yoii, for a drunken old fool ! 'Tis you, then, that : lined me ! " cried Barnubas, jiunpin;,'' up from the bedsside and stanipinfT bis foot. " Don't be vvosH wid your own old father, Harney. listen, darlint, and your heart will int'lr wid pity tor nie, like a roll of bather under the ^-ctitlc iiiliiiiiict< of the l)h'ssed .^^nn VVidout a woi-d of koindnesd the I'nptuu .screwed hi.s knuckles into the nape of my neck, and as 1 drop'd you, implorun !iim to be marciful, lit^ lifted me out of the room, marched me down the droive, and bundled me into the portcr'.s lodge, guvini a word or two to the porter. I thought he maned laving me there and seudm' for a constable to take me off to the sto(rk« for a rogue and a vagabind, and 1 ihurdied the merciful saints for protectun me in the mornient of adversity ; but I was mis- taken, Ibirney, and presently recaived a warnun that 1 shan't forget till my last hour, never to thank the saints befort^ y'are certain sure they have done somethnn to he thankful for, for .sure they'll cluite you if they can. ^Vh(lile the porter was absent the (_'aptun took off his coat, and when the porter came back agen h'i'a a length of rope in his hand, a rope, Jiarney, darlint, not very thick, but as hard as nails. The Captun he doubles the rope, puts a knot in eadi end, and twisted the in' I was in the 'leet for nigh two year before ever he saw the light of day. Tlie money was paid to your mother, as 'tis paid to you, through Doctlior Blandly. He was a young man then, and as handy \\ith the 'use of a i«jpe'8-end as his friend the Admiral, so I had to be careful and kape clear of um. But still I managed to live toleralde aisey wid whav I could get, which waa a decent percintage on all your blessed mother had; and I bad larnt to be continted with tbrifles, I could have gone ou livin' in the i^ame manuer all !,i IM lii::ti: ;a:;t nAUXAUA^ i:>W i!'' >;< iM: I*; , . if: It;"' the rost of my davs, anl died a p<'acetul old jfontlHinnn ; but fortune was cnitl iifiuinst nm. Vn caug'lit tlu' MUiall-pox, Mainey, darliuf ; Init y'are uiy own son, and I will not reproach ye-- yt' rauj^ht f hu suiall-po\ had, and for fear I mijut^ht take the disuse iiiicl adM that wiirr.ed m».' to lave the house wlieii I did, and ye .see phiinly, darlint, how the blessed saints watched over and ]>ri)teeted us. Docihor lihunlly, I was towld, by the same itiken^ had removed you and your half-brother Gerard; and t here was not a rap h'ft for me. 1 have never seen Gerard since, nor you till this blessed morn, and bavin' finished the history so far as consarns \c)u, if you've no abjaction we'll take the nnuvuii of rum you were spakun about." '* Ciive you a noiifjin !— what forP Do I owe you anything 1 ut a curse for having ruined mo by your meddling and iLter- feritig with my motlier after she was married ?" The old man looked at bis son without the slightest malice. A smile stole over his face, and his eyes twinkled with a know- ledge of his own superior cunning. *' Vave a swate sperit on you, Barney, darlin*^^; but y'are a fool. Y'are loike an innocent pig that's dying to get at the meal, but hasn't the sense to ontie the string and crawl into tlie sack." " Then what do you suggest ? " " I am that dry wid telling ye the truth that I couldn't spake aJiother word widcut a taste of the blessed gift o' natur." TJarnabas puzzled his dull brains in trying to see what ad- vantage could be derived from his recently acquired knowledge, and then reluctantly lianded the pence to his father with a feeble hope that he might receive value for the money. After a brief interval the old pedlar returned from his expe- dition to the bar-parlour, witli a measu'e of rum, which the two drank, and then seeming greatly refreshed, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand briskly, ajid said: " Now, Barney, where's your brother Gerard ? " " In London." " In London, and can you tell me where now ? " "No," replied Barnabas with emphasis, detecting his father'^ eagerness to know, A R!:T'{nsPi:rT. l.V. ** 'Tis n pity. Tionilmi'M u \arge place; but faith we'll foind Utu it' lie's ID i)t> f(iiiii(l." "And wlittt ilunJ'" " We'll make a bargain wid um before ever we tull nm a W(.rd." '• Supposing he won't come to terras, and that is more than likely.'* " Then we'll just do widout him. We'll toind Mr. Talltot, and you'll go to him wid a nice clean face, and say, ' Tom, I'm vour brother, and my heart's a yeaniin' towards ye, and I most live wid ye or die,' and if Docthor Blandly says y'are not, ye'll just quoiet and aisey speaking ask him to prove that you're not." Barnabas took some time to comprehend the full meaning of the hint, t!ien : " And suppose he does prove it P " "lie can't. The Admiral was ashamed of what had tuk place -Patty towld me so, and said as how it was a blot upon the fair history of the family — and for that reason he never whispered a word of it to a sowl except Docthor Blandly. The Adniiral's dead, and wlint proof agen you is the word of the ould Docthor, who maybe for his own reasons is intherested in keeping you out of the family? There y'are by law his son and Tliomas Talbot's brotlier." Barnabas slapped his thigh, and grinned ; bis father, encour- aged by this flattering mark of appreciation, proceeded : " He can't deny ye. Ye stand tliere Thaophilus Talbot. He dare not forbid ye to enter your father's house, and when y'are wnnce inside, my boy, ye may puzzle the devil and Docthor I'liiiidly tdgetlier to get ye out." *• But suppose," Barnabas urged, biting his nail at the same time, "suppose he does forbid me to enter the house, and uses the same kind of argument his father used with you, how will that be." " Bad for you, darlint. But y'have nothun of the koind to fear. Doubting the thing he's towld for ♦^rue, he daren't lift his hand agen you, with the possibdity of disgracin' his father's son. And look here now, agen, supposun and supposun all you like, y'have still the masther hand of him. Tf lie says ye slum t cross the threshold i.t Talbot Hall, nor ye shan't have a fallen of liis money, you'll say, 'Brother Tom, yer cruelty will force me to take to the road, and if I'm caught, it's Thao- philus Talbot will be tried, and you'll have the satisfaction of quarthering Tyburn-tree upon your scutcheon.' " Barnabas nodded assent. I- l-i [ff^ 156 LIKUTF.NANr nARNABAS. tl' I I" i' ill " Kor li!sfatluM"'s sak ■, f'^r the lioiKnir of his fain'ly, heclaron't Int the sucret be made piiblio, wid do better vesiilt tlian saving a few pounds. No, my boy, ye'll set your fut in Talbot Hall, and yell never lave ut, and it's the foine feastun and drinkuu we'll have there." " We ! What have you f^ot to do with it ? " " Sure, darlint, yo' won't kick away the p lor old la• 11 the 8,; I 'i»i "• PilKMi'DITATIOX. 109 oiIkt b'ys awiy, nnd t1icrt» was only ni' ii'i!lectit)ns, P):ir!iaba.s turned over in his mind all that he had lieard from liis fatlier, and the .sug-n'slions he had made, wliic'n were pleasant, as offerintr the pro-ct of fjain to hiinself, but unpaliteable in dtiier respects. Tlie g-reedy, dull sconndnd wanted all for hilll^(''f, and was unwill- i.ig that anyone .should share with him liie ill-gotten profit. " What has my father done that lie should have a penny from Talbot ? '' his thoughts ran. " He has done me an injury in reducing me to my piOvMU position liy his drunken foily. I'm not the blind f.iol he takes me io be. 1 see clearly enough that he would have me under his tiMnib, as he had my mother, if I gave him the chance. By threatening to l)1ow on me he would extort all that I get, and likely ennigli in another drunken fit he would \A\\\\ the truth, and ruin uie as he ruined my mot he'. Tlh-n wli: ; would happen !•' " I should be kicked out and the payineiil miide by Doctor P.landly stopped as a reward for my piins. \ w n't trust my father if I can help it; but how can [ do without him. or i;i opposition to him. He has only to sliow himstdf to the I) icior and tell him all to njiset uie. To spite me and get a bottle of rum he would df) aiiyl hiitg. . , . " He says that my birih was concealed for a couple of n.onths liefore it was registered in the parish fcouks, in order to avoid Ailmiral Talbot's suspicions. Tiiat n'gistry would establish my claims against all that Doctor I'.lai, llv could say; but su])pose the Admiral, to conceal what he <•;'" d his disgrace, had the passage scratched out. Xo, he c ml In't do that. I suppose I could see the register and make sure. Diit that would be nothing if Doctor Rlandly and my father combined to undo me. I may have to buy him over to my side after all. " Hut thvju Gerard will have an equal right, curse him. That makes three of us to divide what lalbot chooses to allow L^^.F'"^ iiJM «i.jiiiiMi,iurili alter all. 15 >;ird and lodirinjr, pprliiij)-*, iniij no iiinf'. A liiititrtiiit tliiil. I cm luuiii; no legal rluiin opoii thiM TiilUof, and if he dofsn't likt* my wiiys h« may jiiHt Ntarl m(» off iihoiit my bu.sincsH, (iml \ >li()ulhl man with all his cuiining. , . . " lint 1 can't let the prize lie there and not make a grab for it. ThcM-e's a way to ge^^ it if one only knew how. I'll be bound my father could put me up to the means if it were not to his own disadvantage. There must be some way of doing it. One needii't cut down an ap])le tree to f^et at the fruit. How can it be done. If I liad only my fatlier's (trains instead of hi.s blood I'd be better contented. If I found Mr, Talbot, and feigned to be prodigiously honest, told )iim all and threw myself upon his generosity, I should be likely to get more than by my father's scheme, besides shutting him out from any advantage. Hut then Gerard would come in and get ten times as much as I should I don't like that scheme. It doesn't release me from the di.'pendency upon Talbot. . . . " I wonder where he is. The other end of the world perhaps — deiul for all I know. How would that be if be were " He reined in his horse suddenly for no obvious reason, and halted in the middle of the road. " Do you want me, master ? " asked Slink, coming to his side. "No, and be hanged to you. Keep behind," answered .Harriabas, touching his horse angrily, and then curbing ^ up with savage ferocity to a walking ]»ace. He continued the journey for some tinv? at that pace, while he considered what his position might be if Tom Talbot were dead. ■V w n t liU LblNO LiiE LIUN. 161 CHAPTER XXXIV. ROLHI.VO TlIK LION. ide. 'Hid up It wr« fh" 'i")'li o* J'ln '. nnl (lie oljji'ct -tf [' "••inhns fr'n-.-'s ]v»>('Ht joiin i'\ IM i .iliii >'it(in wnx, us ir»u_\ Ij.- iiiiii^iiiffl. to 1 (»■)• f 1 lie fjiiiiru'i-ly ill lu\Mince from l)')(rtor Hla; m.^.'lf iipoi) IiIm Ix'h! Iinliauoiir, ami InoU lln' !i:'!y {(OH'ids in li^'iHciiblt! silfnof , nnd without l»'.stinir tlin qiiulity of t'licli pi»!ce l>y the prof (fss of rin r' " r oti the iiil)!i' nf itiliiij^ ht'twfi'ii liiw lt'»'lh, UH IIIk] hilh'Mlo ItftMi l.i-* tM>,();ii. \\ llt'll hr l'l-ii)illt'<| Slinii ut " TiiH nt'll," li" (mIII lur a moth'sl (^iiint of ali', iin > i\ ani, which wax an i'.\ro.sily, ami a w iil 's'l j»i' (Imparl urn froiri his iiNiial 1 a li! of di;h niching- hi ristdf by the sptM'di>'Hl nii'aiis to he I rocnfH(l. Af'liT jjavin^"- for the ah* he c iintcfl IiIn money, ami ijultfjncdit II]) carefully in hiw pocket u« he left the inn. '*.S ink," 8a. il he, when they were once more on the road, " which road do you know to .Sevciioaks ? " Slink lo')ked at his nnufer in opju-mouthed a.stoni.shmeut. *' Well, fool:'" a.^ke*! liiirnahas. "1 don't know my way from London, m!i.«ter." " Where flo you know your way from, then p" * " From .Maid«toiie, or (Jhizzlehur.st, or lliomley." " I) ) you know your way from (iruve.ieiid h " "Yes, tjy Wrotham and If,''hthain." " W I'otham I know: wlicres If,ditham?" " .\ few mih'.s fiirder on, and about Mev.-n fro'n Sevenonkfl.* "Savcre kind of pi ice thereal) lUtH. i.'Ji't it?" " A villatr''- your honour: Jiot vcrv savay-e, two iniiM," " Anv !ion'^>'> h^tween there and .Sevenoaks? " "A few, not m I'ly, mnsler. 'riii-re'M Knole Park." "Ah, Ivncde; tU it lies between l^^iitlium a d Talbot Hall?" " Ye.K, your honour." " Then now for GruveSLMiJ What are you blubbering about ? " ** You're not Eroinjy ni'.di Talbo*' TTiill. n'"f> yon, master?" ^ " Yes. Is there anythiiifr tt'rrible ii th it 'f " "We Hha'.l be lost, that'n all. II iii^nMl, nothing more. Master IJIake, the s'eward, kiDw-* your horse as widl as I do," " Hum! that migh' gft me into trouble. 1 m.ist manage to exc'ianire him oti tlie road." " Ihit Mast'i- IJIak ! kn nvn me just as well as the horse." "Then you'll have to keep a smart luok-out. Fall back." 11 '^ i| I Sir u ;•; AT .^'.\ !'.'iS. I i 11! It IrsSiiB- i ilprjii' 'i! II Tiu'V lull ji:i •'! ni;-t!"),.l In'TiU'e lli'.'.i I'li - 'Uil'l ' ;i'iv si "i i^n!il, and Slink cume to hl.s side, toucliiuo' his liat, but looking .straight before liiin with heavy eyes and a woebeirone expression on his fact.'. Barnal)as, after hooking- at him for a minute in ninte dls^-ust, said: " What a bhnnefiil, lianpi-'doof lookin^jf lioniid you are." "I can't Iielp it, master.' "Sit sHaij^lit in your saddle, hold your head up, no^/ look as if your lite di'jiended on your pluck, fancy you have Tyburn ill front of you, am a batch of siuip-jat-ks at yourjieels." Slink turn'jd sliarply and looked behind him, with a fallin<>; lip and cliatfi'rin|x teeth. '•' r>ali ! you make a man ill to loctk at you ! " Barnabiis jrave a cut at Slink's horse with his whip, causing tlte animal to make such a boinid as nearly unseated the rider. Slink iiad no fear of horses, and slio>ved considerable spirit in suljduing' the restive buist. '* Ah ! now you look like a man. I liate your sneaking, snivellin;^' faces, and so do women. When we come upon a luirbev's you'll h;iv(> that shock of hair trimmed up smart, and it" thMn''s e'er a luilx-rdiisher's in (Jravesend you'll buy yourself a ]i;iir of rid in or- gloves and a jaunty cravat ; I suppose you on>;lit to have a new pair of boots. Well, there's a piece of gold for you, and to-morrow morning let me see you as spruce !is a carrot, with your hat cocked on your ear, your chin up, a llower-ljud or a straw m your mouth, and a devil-may-care cairiiige. D'ye hear P" " I'etter tell me again, master," said Slink, not sure whether he had heard correctly. ]>arnabaa Tepea+ d his instructions, and Slink, with un- diminished amazement, asked : •' What's all that for, master? " "1 want you to see that sweetheart of yours, and what is more, 1 want her to see you." '• lint, your honour, if " " Speak "when you're told to speak. To-morrow we shall push on to the village you spoke of; there 1 shall stop while you go on to Talbot llall. Curse that face! look the other way, if you c:in't show me a better. You'll go to Talbot Hall — a-foot if you iike — and hang ab lut until you have a chance of S;"eing your t wet^tlieait alone. 'J he:i youll put on the air of a man, and 1 war'-ant she a lisitMi to you. You shall buy her a shawl or brooch at Gravesen.(ii i lafo lnr wiih II 'l»Iii.-
  • raetiou ; ii'id im liis iiii:i.rit)ui ion dwelt uptui tlie purt he vvas to pt.iy, !ie y.ive hi.s hat u .«'haUe. tilii:!;^i- if o i o i.' .s.ie, stucc oiii Iim e.iin and hiMiedier lip, and um iiue i a rakish air. which wa.«« iiidicrou-t e!'0u2"li in co:iiimc'fiun witli Iua siKled aad raltti-ed ni:'i'k-ciiit'i and hi.< red hair, which stuck out in a fin V\ thicket \], ,■>.'.- p.;irfi roniul his liead. ' rhuf'.s it,'' said Uainihas, encdiir)! ^in^rly. "loo!; lil:e th.at and yuii'll carry lliB heart of any wonaii, wli -ii yoii';e li* iniiied up a hit. Von don't hu k eouia e I " •'Not [," resp )nded .'■Uinlv, " [\u l-olJ enoui'.i, ir" I eaii oaly pM the featvs out of my lieai." " That's the way. ni.m ! 'J\)-niorr iw \-.iii w > 1*1 lie r'le .-iin • fellow your .«\Aeetli('art sent about liis hii»;it •»." *' You're ricrht, master. ]'\o been thi.ilviii;;' n-er wliat \oii .said yesterday, an I I iiinde n;) my 'uiiid in If ;iio!-e of a ni.iii lie.vt lime I face .leimy. She shall .-ee wh.il sdi-i of a lover s!ie. has to j;htli im, and took the road toSeveno>K-s Im hi,di s])ivits. !I • had ca:ii.'d out his master's instructions 10 the leittT. a'ld wi'li a clr ui fac •. a new neck-cloth, a pair of sound boots, well hriisli-' I c »a( an 1 breech e.s, gloves, and a head i-^ducf I in its eo 1 our to nainial proportion,** by a removal of the siip Maln-ais iiair and a ;4\'ni'ixt.is application of g-rease to th'j re u li.i In-, h • lo )lvjd iis A-'c 'ii. a young countrymnn as one ■svonld \^ ish to s 'e. In ailditinn tliti-' was a c<'rtain raldshness in liis air ar 1 cat i-ia;i'e w;ile!i \.-a> not usually fo be seen in (tountrymi'ti. His lnr w is cock -d, \ 10s « dangled from his lips, he tlourish>Hl liis riiliii.,''-A!iip riglit and • n 2 If ffl l«l i.i!;i'T".:jamt i!.\:tXABAS. i: ¥V' i;i It'ff, mil lie iniircliiMl with a can'las.s freedom, which proved that ho, like otlier actors, loll himself for the moineut to be the diaractfr he was eallod upon to assume. This im])u h'lU exterior 'he maintained for at least a couple of miles, for the encourag-ing flattery of Barnabas was fresh in his mind, lli^^ spirits were invi(j:orafed bv the exercise of walking and the pleasure of esonpitig from his master's society, and as yet he had not met a soul on the road. At Crown Point, how- ever, the sudden apparition of a yeoina*i with a cudgel in his hand recalled him to the dangers of b j position, and caused him to plunge precipitately into the w jods, albeit the yeoman was unlcnown to him, and ii.j good miles of wild country lay between him and Talbot Hall. He took a widely circuitous route, and when he at length drew near the Hall, it was with the stealth of a fox and the / timidity of a hare combined. It was only by thinking stren- uously of his master's horse-pistols that ht, overcame the inclination to give up the perilous undertaking. Little by little he approached, and came within a hundred yards of the lodge gates. Peering throui^h the brambles by the road-side he could see the gate, and the lodge with its bright mullioned windows and the white curtains tied with blue ribbon. He fancied he saw Jeimy herself moving within the room. He heard the soinidof wlieels coming ilown the drive, and crouched closer, then the click of the gate latcli, and bending forward, yet prepared to dasli info the words behind him if necessary, he .aw I'hike, the stewni*d, in his light cart, come into the road anrl turn towards Seveiioaks. Slink recollected that it was market-day. As the cart drove off, a young woman stepped into the road and looked after it. She was asha])ely young woman of twenty or thereabouts, with dark hair and eyes, and a complexion as brown as a berry : had it been a few shades darker one would have thought lier a gipsy, her eyes and teeth lacked nothing of the perfection of a gipsy's. She wore a white cap and a print dress short enough to escape her heels when she walked, and show the neat turn of her anklt»e ; her sleeves were rolled up over her fine arms, which she stuck akimbo, resting her hands on her hips as she stood in the middle of the road, looking now to the left, now to the right. *' Jenny," murmured Slink, with a sigh. He was too far away to see the expression of her face. It seemed to him that he must be thinking of him — that perhaps she was sighing for him to return to her— that she would listen to his entreaty if he went humbly to ber side and asked for forgiveness low. swKirnii-AnT.s. ifift u" of rint and now far that for ity if LOW. Whom rould she exptrct, whom C(juld she be hopinj^' to Si-t* in the road if not liim ? She dropped her hands and took up the corner of her apron, looking" pensively up the road, with her htud ii litth- inclined to one side. " If she's eroinff to cry that settles it," said Slink, takinjc lii-i hat in his hand. But Jenny carried the corner of her apron no liijiher than her white teotli, and while Slink was .still he.siiutiii):-. in douht whether to take the action as a siyn of .sentimeiit or indilTe:- ence, her thoughtfid mood jrave place to aiiotlu'r, and sl,i' returned with a brisk .^tep to the lodge, s»irg;ng- a ^nuti h of a lively song. "Singing! — a heartless baggage," said Slink. *• A i rl i In- very tune she knows I don't hke. Well, if thaiV all .s|i»* t ;ii»-> for me I won't ask her to forgive me. Ill just do as lii> l.i.m.iu- bid me. Si e shall see that I can be as careless a.s s\u- i.->. i ant not the fool I was. I'll warran' she'll be le.-s iinh ,:en(uMit when slie finds what sort of a nnin she has to deal wi h i uu . IF she thinks I'm afraid she is niistakiii. Mast^-r iJlake woni If back for two. hours, and no one calls at the loclgc on njaikt-;- day." Witli tliese thouglits Slink cocked his luit carefully, tislu d out the rose which he nad put in bis pocket lor .•«alt't \ , aim having stuck it })etween his lettli, and assnred iiimseU t, ai ii.- had forgotten nothing (jf the part he ^^as to i>hiy, he n a>a' a step towards the road, then lie stopped, coughed, scraicl.t^d his ear, and looked nervously towards tbe lodge. Jenny had opened th' window and was looking out. He determined to wait until she witlulrew. lledidnt wisli her to see him come out of the wood, a;.d be didn't wisli lo ii iucli ii|) to the lodge under the tire of lier eyes. He preferred con.iii/ upon her from behind, and taking her un]trep.»red. Jenny left' the window to his icgiet : the respite bad just given bis spark of courage time to die out. and hefouu! it more difficult than ever to leave the safe shelter of tl;»' uiu d. But once more be fixed Ids mind on Harnalja.s and bis ]ii>'o.s, and with de.sperale resolution made a step loiwaid ano emerged from ins cover. Now he was fairly m the ruad ainl facing the lodge, retreat was impossiide. He dared noi \nx.k at the window, it was as much as lie (ould do todieep the >teiii of the rose between his teeth, bis heart heal witli siifTo;aiing force, his hands grew wet, and bis knees shook under biin as he advanced. " Pistols, pistols, pistols," he murmured as he drew near the 1(6 t r:i"r::>:.\VT n/.!TS".'vR\?H. ! I lod^'v. lie ii»!inl I In- el. it ttT of j)lai»'s, hikI ul'(i\t' if the vnic*' of Jenny Hiii^'iii^- the Hjug he ubji'itiil tu. The bounds strengthened him, and came just at the right moment, for he \va8 close hy th(! gates, and he ronelnded that if he wern lucky he might find her in the kitchen, wliere the clat- tering of plates and dishes showed she was engaged. He passed the gate, lifted the latch of the door, and entered the lodge at the moment Jenny was coming from the little adjoin- ing kitchen. Witliout a wonl or a moment's hesitation he marched up to her, and before she could recognise his features, for he took care to present that side of his face over which his hat was cocked, he had chucked lier under the chin. Jenny's response was no less sudden and unexpected — with a swing of her right arm she fetched him such a slap on the face that the rose was shot out of his n;outh, his hat flew to the otlier end of the room, and he with diflictilty kept his feet, for tlie room appeared to spin round him, and a thousand windows danced before his eyes. " Why, 'tis Toby ! " exclaimed Jenny, chipping her hands in astonishment. "Slink, if you please," he answered with dignity, as he Bmoothed his milled liair, and crossed the room to pick up his hat ajid his rose. "kSlink, if you choose," retorted Jenny with asperity, check- ing the laughter that had risen to her lips. " Tia a proper name for a man who can sneak away with his master's horse, and without bidding good-bye to any one." " No one seemed to care whether I said good-bye or not, or what became of me ; and as for the horse, my master told me I had as much right to it as the coat on my back." " A pretty master, indeeil. Father said you had fallen into the hands of a rogue." " lie's not more to blame than you, Jenny. It was you that drove me away- -that made me so wretched. I didn't know what 1 was doing, and I didn't care, and if anything happens to me mv blood will be upon your head." "Oh, Toby." " Yes, it's true enough, and yoa know it. The guilt rests upon you. You're like the young woman in the printed ballad I gave you last Maidstone Fair, who led her sweetheart to rob and murder his uncle all for love, and if — if one day I'm hanged at Tyburn," — ho stopped to shudder — " you'll read your own name in my dying speech and confession, and " "Oh, don't, Toby," cried Jenny, struck with horror at the picture presented to her imagination. lii rm\ aw EK'l III-: AIM'S. K7 I the *' And that's not all," cfmtinnpd Slink, pii'NM?'\»', sonu'whnt the worse for rough usagt', hung limp from the r-orntM" of lijs month, ll^* stood with his leg.s astride, one hand on his hip-', and a df'liant expression on his face. " No, you're not what you wt^re," .lenny said. shHWino" hnny raised her eyes and smiled, making it difll'nU for Slink to keep up the line of attack whicli had irained him .•^ndi an advantage. However, he overcame the tfjiiptatioJi to he ingetin >us and tender, and cf>ntinued: "No, you have not alteied utall; vou're pretty, but heart- Jess " Oh, Toby ? how can you sny that ?" " ts it not the trntli ? Have yon lost a sinjlf pound si"C*' I ha\e been away ? Look at yourcheeiis, and your arms as plump If 1 p 168 LiEiTrvrANT :a: N'.:'a=?. U I and benntifiil as if you'd never liad a day's sorrow in vour life It wns nolhiiiff to you that you hiid driven a fuitlifui lover to ruin ! If I Imtl been dead it would have been all the sanae to you, you would have still kept plump and pretty." " I can't help it, Toby, I didn't eat anything )r a whole day after you went away, but the next morning" my appetite was too strong for nie. Still I have thought of you, I Imve," " Have you, .lenny Y " " Yes, nights and davs, 1 have; and I've said prayers for vou." " Keal trup, Jenny ? " ** Yes, real true. I went out in the road tliis very afternoon, and tliouglit to myself as I looked up the road, * Oh, if I could only see Toby coming along ! ' " " But you were singing a song when I came in," " I was obliged to, to prevent myself crying." "liut it was * Jack Roljinson,' Jenny, and you know I never liked to hear you sing that." " How could 1 know what I was singing, Avhon I was think- ing all the time of you P " Jenny ptit her apron to her eyes, and wliimpering, continued: "'Tis you that are cruel and forgetful, or you would have come back t() see whether 1 wu>< in distress; and if yoti loved re truly, for my sake you wouldn't have done wrong, and gone seeing fine ladies, and f:aniblinu', and drinking, and singing songs that you wouldn't ike me to hear. And you might have known that I laughed at you only to teaze you; a girl doesn't teaze ajiyoiie that she dislikes. Aiid tli(,>n you were such a simple fellow, one was forced to laugh at ynd and a whip, Jenny." As Tom strode off to the Hall, Jenny opened the door and cried to Slink : " Quick ! quick, Toby, out of the open window here. He cannot see you from the drive." '^' "I'll go outside, Jenny, and wait for him. I v, ill ta'Ke my whipping without crying out, if I can, and show him tliat I'm not such a sneaking rascal a* he takes me to be, I'd have I M' f 172 LIK; IKNANT DAKNAPA c^me out wliilu he was lunv, but for U'nv of ])urtinj)' you to tlif bluHli, dear. Let liim heat nie." "No, no. Toby, if you do really love me, Have yourself. The woods are open, and you have a start. You can't love me, Toby, or you wouldn't linn(T." " You don't belu-ve all he has said against me? " "Nc; sliould I love you if I did ?" "And yon won't open your heart to no decent lad as he was recoinnjendin^'' ? " "No. Don't stay! Listen, Toby: / won't marry a man wh()\i been thrai^hed! now will yon save yourself?" " Give us a kiss, Jenny, to show we're right down earnest and true." She threw her arins roniul liis tu'ck and frave him a hearty kiss, lip to lip, and the next nioni'Mit. invifroriited and with a strengtli born oi his jiew maiiliO(/d, Slink scranilded througli the window and daslie*! olT into the woods. He had not a monjent to spare, already he heard the hound welcoming his master's approach to the stable. ■ I' lii CUAPTEII XXXVII. AN AFTKH noon's WOllK. Thr time hung heavily on l)iirnal)as Crewe in Slink's absence. Strolling itito the meadow behind the inn in search of amuse- ment, he found there only a sleepy cat stretched in the sim, and a cow chewing the end und''r a liedge. He threw the cat in the horse-pond, and stoneil the cow until he heard sotneotie a]i])r()aching, wlien he turned into the* skittle-alley where three oi- four louts weri' playing. He sat down and watched the gauie in tlie hopt'.s of finding some met'iod of clieatuig, which would justify him in joining tlie jtlayers and compensate for his want of .skill; failing to succeed in his endeavour, he left the alley in disgust, and seated himself with a pot and a pipe in the tap-room. There he drank, smoked, and (hwed by turns, until he felt hungry enougli to eat some bread and cheese. After that he do.sed again, until tiie flies irritated him into activity ; then he went into the meadow to see if he could find the cat, or any- thing else that might afford him diversion. But the cat wns now basking on the roof of a barn, and blinked at him with exasperating inditfereuce, a^d the cow was browsing in a part njws^ AN afti:rn()on-.s work. 178 with a part of the flt'lfl where «he could not be atoned without the risk of observation, so wi lilt' piMtoln whk'li iJiirtmliaH luppt'd rtii(jii- (Uiiilv, " I'lii n-jrl.ir (l»',-i) Mate." " NS'iiat do you mean-' I'm tryiriff my best to Bave you. \h ilii'i'p uiioi Iht iiiii ni'iP'f r flmn If,'litliuin P " " \<- - lit tliH foot of tliu're safe, 'Ihv sceiil's broken." Wiihout a moni'-nt's lu^silation, Slink, who liad .spruu|i^ into .. the saddle, duj^- his heels into ths' grey nnire's side.'-, and usin^ his whip without stint, gano])ed olY in the direetion of Iglitham. I'aiiialiiis walked down to the " Sir J(!ffrey " and waited. Half an hf)Ui iaier, 'i'oiri, following his liound, emerged from . the wofKl at (Jrown I'oint. AVifh his luuz/le to th' ground, the hound ran down the hill towards IgUtham for a hundred yards, 'hen stopped, diverged to the right, to the left, ran on for half a dozen yaids, and returned wh iiing to the spot from whlvh lie had diverged. "Oooild'ig, good Dido follow up," .said Tom, patting her encoiirngingly. Dido licked his hand, cried, and with lr;r muzzle down again ran off to the left, piisliirig through the unbroken brake. Tom waited in the road ; presently Dido came from the wood higher up, teok up the old sceut with a bark of •satisfaction, and ran down to wiien; Tom stood, then finding Iierself again at fault, she ran down the bank to the right, and after some minutes returned, and looking up, whimpered as if for assist- anipr AN .\'.\ ::::cooN'.^ ^v•|■•':. ns (1 from 'I'fiin. nH }»(• rctfiicfil IiIm «tf])M tnwaidw tlin rrt'st of ilu? Iiiil. Dulo wiiM iifiuiii mxtti tli»! M'Hiit, l)ul iiislfiuJ ni ritllosviii;^ it ini.* tin- wood iroiii which they hM-i(^!it o'" thH "Sir .Fi'fTi'Hy Ainhimif " n\n> cnuu'. to a nI.mhI, aiul apjiHurtid ajr"i»i fit fiiiilt. This piizzlrd '\\!iit;' nn j^o l)ari<, wt> will njtiirn by th« road. Cotiw, I)ido," he calliMl to the hoinid, who wa.s Mtill Hcarchiiiu' for tliM lost hcditafion, and Trun wall; A onwnrds i.t a leisiirclv }>iicp, with his hands rrojt.«'(i IxMiiiid liim, thiukiiiff no raore of Slink, but, as may be imagined, of Ludy Itetty. " After all," be thoujabt, " wby should she not laugh and be ga}'. If rbe valued my life at all she would be pleased to hear that I bad escaped from the duel. That she would learn from Gerard, who I warrant \^as not too modest to furnish all particulars. Perhaps those pari iculars excited her mirth. For a truth, I cut a mighty ridiculous figure, digging and plunging at an adversary who contented himself wifli parrying my thrusts, and who was too magnanimous to take advantage of my inferiority. 'Tis human weikness that serves as the food for mirth. The world sympathises with the fortunate, and laug s at the unlucky, from (Quixote to the puppets in a Punch show, and the more the poor tools are beat the more the crowd laughs. One may laugh and nit be heartless, those who are readiest to .smile are readiest to weep. Had I fallen. Lady Betty would have shed a tear for me : I did not fall, and so she laughed. AV by should I wish it otherwise? Would I have her wretclied rather tlnn merry ? It seems so, for I have done more to torment her in the la'^t six months than to make her happy. Could I ever have made her happy ? It seems to me as I walk here in the sweet fresh air, with Nature's unblemished handiwork on every side, that nothing is wanting to perfect my happiness, but one truly loving soul to share in these delights. She might feel as I do. But the summer goes, an 's we could not live for ever in seclu>*ioji. Perhaps for one d of happiness there might be a hundred of misery. What is worse than to be doubted ? Nothing — unless it be —to doubt." Dido came bustling through the brushwood to his side, and jumped up at liis side as if in apology for her absence. Tom mechanically dropped his hand and caressed her, and while Dido, satisfied that her inconstancy was not r'"^•^ented, ran off again into the wood from whicli she had corr le replaced his hands behind him and continued his rettectic " , "It is odd that a man, with everv inducement to succeed, cannot contrive to subdue his rebellious nature. But for my jealousy I might win tlie girl I love ; bnt a fool loving her with not a tithe of my affection, stands a better chance tlian I do. Will time alt er my temper ? and will she be free to woo when I may woo her well ? " His thoughts were still in this dreary train, when 'they wero suddenly arrested by a howl from the wood on his right hand. The howd was loud and long: it was repeated ao-ain and again. Tom glanced rapidly to the right and left ; DiUo was not in AN AITEIJNOOX'S \VO!:K. 177 pre id. in. in siolit. Mr Inapl ncr(>-» ilie» dilcli, iind pii.slud \\\> \v;iv tliiMiijjli the brambles and short growtli into iLc wckmI, and tnwiud.?' iIk' spot whence the hound's cries procetded, now short andfeehlr, Beyond the onks was a belt of pines free from under-i.'n;\vih. and it was here that Tom found his hound stretched nj on thi- dry fir-spines. His first impression had been tluit Dido luid set her foot in a trap hiid for vtrinin, but a <^hince ^^ho\ved him that a more serious mischief had befaHen her. "Dido! AVhat is it? po»)r old girl!" he cried, dropping upon his knees by her side. At the si'Jund of his voice the poor brute tried to fret up(i:i her feet, and fell back with a ^v'hine. Tom had a wfiriii nliVc- tion for dogs, for this one especially. Dido lusd recnpiiis.Ml him on his coming to the Hall, though she luid 'j'>t seen him for eighteen months. He passed his irmd nipidly over her body and legs without finding any trace of a wound : a drop of blood- stained saliva in the corner of her mnulh was the only proof of injury as she laj'. He essayed gentjy lo raise her head: shr gave a sharp cry, and tiien, as he teiKJerly lowered her head again upon the ground, she licked his hand in forgiveness of the pain he hag's side, she mu.^t hav*- been euliug the gift from his hu'iJ wliea he struck the blow, and do you tliink anyone witii a heart inside him could 'io Vueli a wickt'd, cruel tiling as thai ? If you kni'sv tl:i' l:id, yon conhln't tUink him capable of svich a ig kille(l ; and vsfor usino ^•uns, whv, deiir li^^art o' me ! lu' would jump up like a crow it lie lieard one Hied lialf a mile off. My .)<'nny's told me all what happen^^d afti r Id gone lo market. IK-'s got into bau hai; as in his thoughts. " If you've no objections, Sir, wt will run up to the ' Sir Jeffrey,' the woman will know her owi. cheese again, and be able to tell us what became of the man." Tom agreed to the proposal, and when Blake had laid the dog in the cart, they drove to the " Sir Jeffrey Amhurst " and made inquiries. The hostess proved to Tom that the cheese was identical with that she had served to Barnabas, and said that he bad left a few miuutes alter Tom, apparently in haste, ij BLAKE AND TOMS (CONCLUSIONS. 18) wliich seemod to Iicr penilinr, inii.sinucli iim he litul iillnd in th« tap-room for so loii^ a time befm't'luind. Another peculiarity had heen obsorvwl by her, the man had couje to the hou.ie on foot hut with a spur on his heel. "Thank God! that clears Slink," said the steward. When they were again in the cart Torn sat in sombre re- flection for some time, then he said : " The odd thin<>; is that Dido lost the lad's scent close to that inn." "lie did! Then that carries lis oti still furder, Sir. The man with the spur on liis heel might have given his horse to Slink. That would break thexcent at once. You may depi'iid upon it, Sir, that he's tho sc u ulrel wlio got that poor fooli.sl; lad under his tliiimb. And then airain, look liere, Muster Tutumas, bo might have reckoned that if he succ('ede business of the estate was in such admirable worliiiiy ordfr that it called for no attention. Tom made no inquiries, ind*'l he seemed to avoid conversation and to se 'k xilitude. And Jenny was secretly rejoiced when liet* fa^lier said he was goin/ out and would probably not return until la'e. Jenny had an idea that before long she siunild Sf^e Slink again , and the idea arose from no line of subtle reasoning, but ironi direct womardy intuition. During her father's absence she spent the best part of her time at the little window, or in tlie road looking to the riglit and to the left in expectation. One afternoon, as she was standing thus, a piece of twig fell at her feet. She started in astonisliment, for not a soul was to be seen up or down the road, then she heard the call of a black- bird, and knew that Toby must be in the wood facing the gai«'s — for he could equal any bird at whistling. After a glance to assure herself that Mr. Talbot was not in sight, she approacheil the brambles on the opposite side of the road with a carelo^ step and her eyes alert. " Here, sweetheart—here 1 be." whi,«pered .Slinlc '• -She nodded and seated herself on the bank beside liie brambW through which she could see Slink's head and shoulders. .;- ^ ■' I I ! 184 Lii:rTr:NAN'r ;;a!vN.v has. " Mr. Tora'e in the park somewhere," wtiispered Jenny. " I know it, love, and your father's hunting after me at Ot- ford — but I'm ri/^ht glad to risk my life for a chance of seeing your sweet face." Jenny looked towards the bush, and her eyes half closed smiled in harmony with her ln)s. It was so deUglitful to have a lover who would risk his life for her, that she could not bring herself to tell him tliat Mr. Talbot had forp-iven him. '' I'm not the coward I was, Jenny." Jenny shook her head in acquiescence. " I do think it's knowing that you love me gives me courage, dear." " How do you know I love you ? " Jenny asked in a whisper, bending her head over her knees. "'Cause I don't doubt it no longer." Jenny nodded at this conclusive argument. " An' if you said you didn't I'd up and say you wur a " Toby paused, even passion would not justify him in using the appropriate word, " what would you say I was P " " I wouldn't say nothun, but I'd up and give you a great buss on the lips, so as you shouldn't sav it no more." " And supposing I wouldn't let you Ikiss me ? " " Then I'd kiss you more than ever." His audacity seemed not displeasing to Jenny, and remem- bering what Barnabas had saia, he continued : " Siuvelling and sneaking won't win a girl's heart if she's any spirit,* A man must be bold and venturesome, and laugh at her fine airs." " Where did you learn that ?" asked Jenny suspiciously. " Hum ! When a man goes out in the world he must learn." " You've been courting fine ladies in London, Toby." " Do you think I've got two hearts, Jenny ? And if I had, do you think I could love one of them ladies, all mucked up wi' paint and powder, and dressed up like a Pope, after seeing of you with your fine brown arms, and your red face, and your dress all sweet and pure from the wash-tub ? No, Jenny, I never wars such a fool as that'd come to." Jenny gave u sigh of satisfaction, and smiled encouragement upon her lover, whose words were jis good as poetry to her ear, and better perhaps, being intelligible, and coming straight from his honest heart. "And you, dear,* continued he, "you han't took Master Tummus's advice; you han't looked about for no decent lad H" " No, Toby, I won't have ne'er a sweetheart but you.'' fie took no notice of the distinctioUi but oblivious of danger II III IB Iwl ;■■ HHi IIIb A LOVE LETTER. l^Jf) ig ;er **''^ started up to his feet, came to her side, and throwing' his arm around her neck, gave her a hearty kisn, " Don't, Toby dear, don't. Look, there's master walking in the drive." " What's the odds ? I don't care a button," cried Sliiik, boldly. " Don't you fear, Jenny — he shan't thrash me, nor no oth'^r man now." " But I shall get into trouble." Jenny rose from her seat. " Don't ye go, sweetheart. See I'm safe behind the briars again. Stay awhile, pretend to be plucking a posy. I've a Slenty to say to you yet awhile. I didn't look to see yoii. I aredn't hope to speak wi' you, so I wrote you a lei ter— least- ways I got a party to write it for me." " 'Tis all the same, aiid have you put it in tlie post ? " " No ; I feared it would go wrong, .so i brouglit it wi' me to throw to you when I see the chance. IJut J can tell you all I had put on the paper." " Give ma the letter all the same, dear," murmured Jenny, with an insinuating smile. A letter was a tender form if com- munication that she had never yet received, and did not wish to lose. "Pluck at the hare-bell against the bush, sweetheiirt." Jenny extended her hand towards the flower, and Slink catching it conveyed it to his lips. "Quick, quick. I hear a cart coming, 'tis fatlier belike." "Aye, I know the trot of tlie old pony. There, take the letter, love, and fare thee well. I shall come ior the answer to- night." He put a packet in her hand, which he held while he bent forward and kissed her arm. Then he withdrew with com- mendable speed into the wood. Jenny waited a few moments in anxietv unf il her sweetheart disappeared before leaving the bank. \Vhen she turned she found that Mr. Talbot was not more than a dozen yards from the gate ; that compelled her to be cautious. It was before the time of pocket-holes, and to get at her pocket it was necessary to raise the skirt of her dress, which could not be done v/ith- out risking Mr. Talbot's observation. She slipped her hands under her apron, concealing the letter, and stood with her head on one side as if trying to catch a g)in)pse of the approaching* cart. As the steward came up to the lodge, Mr. Talbot turned his back on the gate and walked away over the lawn. " I'm going to the farrier's, my gal," said Blake, as the cart •topped. " Here be the butcher's meat for cook—take it." :s6 LIE. :i:hant lU'iXAr Jenny lifted her rij^lit linnd, kwcpinjf the other with the letter uiKitjr lier Jipi-oii. " Both liaiids, p.il, or you'll drop it, like as uot." ' "' ' "No, Ishiui'l,fathor." ,• • ";.';' '.' ' " Do as I bid ye, and don't be so liizy." Jenny grew scarlet to the loose curls on her brow, dropped h'H' head, and still kept her lel't hand covered. " VV'liat's a matter \vi' ye, cut your fiug-er, lassP" Jenny, driven to despi.'ration, nodded. ' ' ■"' '■ "Jlei! luu! there s nought to be ashamed of in that, show 'iin to me ? " Jenny did not move, except to cover her face with her right iuind. Blake tied the reins ro the side iron of the cart and ilescended qulcKly. Another mystery called for the exercise of nis pe;'Si>icacity. Jenny reinaiiied iinmovaljle, while her father lifted her apron and took the letter from her liand. "llighty tighly ! what have we got here? A letter like "lie of the gentlefolks', and spotted from end to side wi' kisses in red wax. 'Jenny Blake 'writ in a hand as good as I could u rite it. My gal, you haven't heen making acquaintance with . )y of these gentlemen rakes, 1 hope." " No t " exclaimed Jenny, scornfully. " 'Tisn't no gentleman, i is onlv — only — Toby." " Toby ! I knowed it I I knowed it well ! He gave you it w i' his own hand, didn't he ? " Jenny nodded. " Don't be ashamed, Jenny, T ain't a bit wroth wi' you. If he's the decent lad I believe him to be, T won't come between \ou no more thati a father should. Where's Master Talbot ? " "There, across the lawn." "Then well go inside and read the letter; pony won't 1 Midge. Come on, my gal."' lier fathers unexpected good-humour restored Jenny's cour- age, and she followed him into the lodge with alacrity, no less I ager than he to know the contents of the packet. lilake opened the cover and displayed a pink neckerchief and ;i r'olded paper. '* Here, Jenny, take the favour ; and now let us see what he •*ay8. "' Dearest sweetheart,' " he read. • "* This comes lioping to fiud you as it leaves me at present, thanks be to God ' (very pretty, to be sure), 'barring I can't sleep of nights for thinking how wretched I am all day parted from you, and living with a master who, -speaking respectfully, as iu duty bound, is uo better than he should be. which often A LOVK LEI TEH. 187 and of I en 1 have wished myself dead and in niv irrave.' (1 could have sworn it was so. It's a very good letlei-." Jenny sobbed and wiped away a tear with her apron). ** Wished [ was dead. — * Dear Jenny, I send you a token which you don't need to be ashamed to wear, as I am not to give. It waa bought with my own money honestly, mending tlie pig-sty for Mrs. Smith, the sexton's wife, who is writing this letter for me now.* *' Smith the sexton, I don't know him." " Isn't it a lovely letter, father ?" "No, my gal, he ought to have put in where he is stopping, and told us more about his master j however, we may come to that presently." "*Dear Jenny, if you only knew how glad I wa.s to mend the pig-sty and earn mtmey to buy you a token, though I don't know whether you will think it is good enough to wear, al- though if you love me as I love you, with all my heart, and I ever shall until my dying day. Dear Jenny, I can't tell you all I want to tell you, but if you will only meet me for two minutes, when your father and Mr. Talbot are away, I shall be able to tell you all. Dear Jenny, if you love me true, write me a letter and put it aside of the gate-post at night, and I will fetch it away when master is asleep, but if I am too bad for you to think of, tear up the token and put it in place of the letter. Dear Jenny, 1 shall love you and think of you always, and so no more at present from your humble and true sweetheart, "'T. Slink.'" Having finished the letter, Blake sat down and stroked his chin in thoughtful silence, while Jenny, taking her treasures into the adjoining kitchen, shut the door and had a good cry. Before the plenteous fountain of her emotions was exhausted, her father called her. " Jenny, my gal," said he, when she opened the door and made her presence known by stifled sobs. *' When did Master Talbot say he was a-going to Maidstone ?** " To-morrow, father." ,, . . . . , « What time P " " I don't know ; he told cook when she was asking about the butchers meat, that he should dine at Maidstone o' Wednesday." " Ah ! then he's sure to be out of the way betwixt six and nine. Get out my desk and write a letter to Toby just as I tell you." Jenny opened the desk, and hastily composing herself, sat down with a pen in her hand. m' 188 LIKITEXANT LURXABAS. " I'm ready, fnther/' siid she. The .ste\Yard, who had not ceased to caress his chm, dictated: " Dear Toby." " Di'ar sweetheart ! " wrote Jenny, and then waited, smiUng at the endearing' words. "The master is going- to dine witli ^Ir. Rarton at Maidstone," Rlake pursued. It was not ni-eessiiry to state who was to be Tom's host, but the conceited >>] ] lUiiu never missed an oppor- tunity of displaying his knowledge. " Ves, father."" " Mr. Barton at Maidstone — have you wrote that ? Right — and my fathe" and me will be quite alone. Do not be afraid of my father, he has found out tlint you are in the power of a bud man, and if you trust him he will get you free, and he will put you in a good place, and he will make Mr. Talbot forgive all that you have done, and he will permit you to court me if you trust him, and do what he tells yon. So come to-morrow evening about six o'clock, and my father will be the best friend to you that ever you had.'' Ilaving written tliis. with frequent breaks for correction and amendments, Jenny was iusliucted to put her name at the bot- tom. " jNIay T write a little word or two for myself ? " she asked. The old man graciously occorded permission, and she wrote: "Dear sweetheart, come about five througli the wood, and if you see the little window open, you will know th.at Mr. Tal- bot lias already gone ; " and after that a dozen lines of senti- ment, which, being written for her swectlieart only, miglit seem nothing but sheer nonsense to any other reader. After supper .Tenny placi^d tlie letter by the irate-post, and from her bed-room window w^atched patiently until in the dead of night she saw lior lover take it fron its hiding-place, and presbing it to his lips, vanish in the obscurity. CH.\PTER XL. BARNABAS PUKPARRS FOR BTTSTVKS3. **If you please, your honour, may T have a few hours this evening? " asked Slink. "I've groomed the bosses, cleaned the stables, and made the bits and stirrups to shine like silver." Barnabas was Iti the yard of the roadside inn, near Otford, where they had been staying for tb,ii last six days, neat^jd ou- a BARNaHAs PRICrAUKS iOll I3L'.'5lNl::.-,8. I -",) step, his legs sti't'tclicd out, his I)iic|{ resting nu'iiinst 'h'' HtiihlH wail, and bis hat tilted over his nose. IJarnubus puffed at his long clay pipe in silence, while he considered whether policy would justify him in refusing his servant's demand. Slink had lately given him considerable anxiety : a moral as well as phy- sical change had been apparent in the lad since the day he had had his hair cut. There was something more of a man and some- thinff less of a fool in his appearance and behaviour. A tap on tue pistol-holster no longer awed him ; he only blinked when the lock of the pistol was expo>ed, and Barnabus feared to draw the pistol further for fear Slink, instead of sinking on his knees, should take to his heels. He couldn't afford to lose him, or he might have been tempted to lead him into a qnii t part of the road and try the effect of a running shot upon him. He began to fear that sooner or later Slink WdulH bolt, and throw himself upon the mercy of his late master. That woultl never do. As harshness seemed to be losing its effect, he had been un- willingly constrained to adopt kindiie.-l I won't bo your accomplice auy longer. I'm 8irk of you." " My arcomplirc ? " " Tliat'H it. Don't be a fool, Slink, and make me angry just at the very moment I'm trying to be nicp and kind to you. I'm taking- the best and safest mt'thod of getting out of the diffi- culty you led me into, and you haven t the gratitude nor the decency to help n e. Do you think your sweetheart wi lavf anything to say to you if you are no wiser nor bette* ihan thiit?" "I'm not ungrateful, master— I only want to do what's right." " So do I." "Shall we have to wear anythin^^ oyer our faces, vour Iw.nour?" HarnabaH took the crape from his pockt't and throwing it to Slink, said : "You can burn it if you like; nnw are you satisfied that there's nothing to fear?" This proof seemod to Slink so convinring that he agreed to act according to his master's instructions, and escaped to the stable to hide his shiime in having doubted the honesty of the Lieutenant's intentions. About seven o'clock tliey left the inn together, and passing Borough Green and Plaxtol, crossed the main road and follow- ing the windings of a long lane, came eventually to Bisford, a spot marked by the "Tiire*^ Barges," an inn standing a dozen vards from the Medway, at the point whore the bye-road from Sevenoaks joined the tow-path to Maidstone Bri en mi than the main road. It was vet earlv for one to \ea\v a dinner nartv: after a mnuites consideration, Barnabas led his horse into the yard of the "Three Barges" and dismounted, giving Slink instructions to bait the horses well. From the settle in front of the inn, the tow-path could be seen for a considerable length, and here Barnabas sat until the distance became indistinct. It was nearly nine o'clock when they remounted. Barnabas trotted slowly along the tow-path ; Slink followed at a safe distance. Both were on the alert ; Slink preparing to fly at a moment's notice, Barnabas taking in the natural advantages of the situa- tion as they passed before his practised eye. There was one space which he stopped to examine minutely. A light vapour (fj BARNAMS PREPARES FUR lU'SlNKSsi. i9d yours. . I'm u. I'm nor the '[] havf lei ihan what's ces, your .-iut: it to tftuMl tlmt apreed to ped to the sty of the nd pfis^ing ,iid toUow- Bisford, a g a do/en Toad from It was Ibot would XT less, and main road, after a the yard of instructions of the inn, h, and here ct. It was abas trotted ife distance, ft moment's ,f the situa- ve was one Tp hin!,c over the water, rfil'-ftingr the twi'irr'ir of ilu' summer ni^'ht.hut tlu! tow-pa: li .sli;i(i«»wtrl l»y tin* \vi'dje ro.-'f a corn eovi'iMcl bill: on tb»' o'lposiic Mi(|p df ilie i i\»'r ibeie lav Hat mt'ailows, Xoiliiiifr lixiuj; wo.;! to be seen rx(»'pi the .Mbadowy outlim* uf a cow in the water meadow. The "Three IJoi-gys" lay half a milt> 1 ebind. Turninp- in bis .saddle, ]!;nnabiis cajb d lu Slink: " How far to MaifKS.S IS DONE. "SiTALL T pro by tlip vofid ortlie tn\v-pn.tli ?" Tom nsked him- self MS he psi'^sed tlic o'liff^ and walkcil his horse over Maidstone TJrid^c. 'I'lie road was hard and uninteresting; the tow-path wasturft'd; for a fidl mile ; the riviT was sediietive. Tiiere is ever a tender sentiment in flowing- water, and Tom's li^art heing open at this moment to the infliu-iice of seniiment, he tool; the tow-path. A man is never moi'e n'udy to tak^' an atniable and ho])(' ul vit'w of ;-()eirl V and hims.'if than when he lias been drin!ciii'.'g'()od elaret. Tomhaddrnnk a hottleofexoidleiit claret, and as lit' Troltfd Ijeside the grey liver he felt ha]»pier than he iiad l)een for many days. ill! vas not a spiritual heint.'', with a soul independent in its action lO the movement of a liver, but simply a man of firm flesh and untainted blood with UKU'ui attrilnites mure or less sidjjcct to tliv guidance of ci!'''tim -lances. Having chosen the path cliicHy for the opportunity it gave him for indulginp- in reverie, li<» closed his pyes to everything bui the mental ligurc of Lady lietty — even to the soft surround- ings of grey river and cjtar-lil landscaiie, which gave tone to his reflf-ctioiis. Not a sound disturbed his sw-et and dreamy thoi:ghts, until leaving the turf his htirse's hoof« ehittered on a harder path. The lively ring seenu d t ) awaken more vigorous ideas. Putling his liorse to a trot, I.e said, as if t(, conclude the suhject of his nie. ."s h i^ l):>:sl': l'.l lied liim- lai'lstoiie tow-piitli There is 'art being ( took the iable and has been entchu'tt. r than he lent in its 111 of tirm »re or less 1y it gave 'verything surround- tone to his fghts, until ider yutb. Put;ing cct of his away for d, all in ay ore lovable my fate to r' happier Ih a sigh, Itle of his upon tlie lie conltl 'il of inist, tten and ear !■' No ; IS an excuse lionest man anced as to give no clioice. He put his horse to th 'jnllop for n coiipl<> of luiuutes, anil I hell rciiu',! in (juiii^ly. liie lioi.-riiuui iu'liiini was gallopiii:;, and Tom hiid no longer any doiih; charucter. W lial was lobe done! io turn hisl lor: as ill Mt .' and w.,i for his adversary iu u narrow jxiili : haded by lree,>5 woidil In; (UlWlM' We will have a race for it uniil we reaeh the open," said Tom, " and tlieu he opened liis holst< rs. It was pitch dark hencaih the trees, and at a Incal^ in th I )a th T( om was wiil.m an ace or hein^j inieliMl iiih> the nvi-r h.d f won't hr-'alv my marc's knee.- lor a i.\ji;li)iuidia liiH-.," said lie, chi eking lier j)ace ii. a trol. He coidd hear that his ]iiir-!ii r h.nl iint ivhi.M'd ids spi'.-il, id was paining y:!Mmid quickly. Xevci-thi-h-ss ht- kfpt the inai-i' le liiii>l he lie.-.r an o] eiiiC:; bi/:rn ai at a lirisk irol, fetding cci lain t lin which he remembered. "Stop, cni^e you!" cried Uarnabas, now within a yards of Tom. The cry had the effect he desired. TmnV iiiaif. niMV*. frightened than he, broke a\say\\itha !)oniid, and ihe iiexi minute lier legs were struck uia'er lier Ijy the extended cord, and she fell upon the line, shooting 'i'oiu out of the saddle and on to the bank, and the mare and ho lay its si ill a> ti:e dead. Kapidly diMiioiinting, for the mare lay across the psith. Barnalas looked for the thmwii man. and caught .-ight ot the dark body lying Iialf over the hank, andcleaily deliin d again-t the grey mist of the Avad r. Standing by the fallen horse, lie cocked his pistol, le\ell(d it at Tom's lii'eless lu.dy. and iireil. At the same instant — perhaps startled by the detonation — thf mare struggled to gidn her feet, and stniclc lit-r iron lu-e!- against the right shiii of liariialias. He tV-ll with a scr;'an). while she, plun;'ing "wildly, went over the bank, and, with u splash, into the warer. " Slink! " roared I'arnabas. "What's the matter, nuister; what's happen* dr " cried Slink, running up. '•My leg's broke, that's wliat's the matter. What's that sound ? " "Voices, master; somebody's coming. Good Lord! wliat have you done ?" "Voices! Get my other pistol. Quick, or it will be the worse for you. Do you hear )' " " Yes, master, yes. Hut (h'ar Iieavi ! .lon'l yon thiidi you've done enoug-h mischief with t'other t You'll break vour other leg, maybe" i . , . 13-2 K- R 196 LTECTKNANT r.V.N'ABAS. » -^ < •I ■ " IMniriv- tfilce you, my pistol ! Wh.it's that ?" " I've dropped it, master, and I can't find it, and — oh, ray goodness ! there's the voices again." A volley of oaths, and then Barnabas cried, " Bring my horse closer — lift me up. Oh !" ]More oaths as Slink raised him uprn his left leg, and he laid his arm over the saddle. ** Now catch liold of my left leg and lift." Slink obeyed, enabling his master to lie across the saddle, and following his instructions, led the jiorse along the path to the gap, a couple of hundred yards below, and through it into the cornfield where Slink's horse was patiently browsing undei* the c;0ver of the hedge. " Lift me ofT, and for your own sake handle me carefully. Quick, or I shall swoon." When he was laid upon the ground, and had taken a gulp of spirits from a bottle, lie said, between his groans and oaths, " I don't hear any voices now." ** I do," said Slink, trembling. As a matter of fact the voices, if they had existed outside of Slink's apprehensions, were silent now. "So much the better," said Barnabas. "It will be necessary for you to look sharp if you wish to escape hanging." " \Miat's to do now, Vour honour 't " asked Slink, trembling in every limb. " Talbot's been thrown from his horse, and lies there by the water's edge with his neck bro];e. If he's found there you'll be hanged for it. Go back and shove his body into the river." " I couldn't your honour, I couldn't," Slink wliispered. " What, afraid of a corpse ! Go and do it, or by George I'll call out for assisttuice and swear you murdered liim ? " •' For tlie love of hoaven spare :ne, master, dear ! " "Go and do it; 'ti-^ to save y* ur own neck. Go, or I will call nmrder. Are you going ? Mur " " Don't call, master, I'll do it. lie's dead, you say ?" Barnabas raised hims«'lf to ansrver ; a scr"am escaped his lips, which terrified Slink into immediate obedience, and as he departed his master fell back in a swoon with the agony of his fractured limb. By slight degrees he slowly returned to consciousness. First he ? tVu I'll will Had he lel'l lilra there to fare fi»r hinif^elf, and f»8fapi>d to .save Ills own netk ;•' No, the horsea were there, lie (tailed, and a .slight rattlinor noise, which he had nnticed without heing able to afcount for it, ceased as Slink answereil : "Here I be, master," and he crawled into siplit showin^f a face that was visible in the "loom by its nhnstly pallor. " You're not dead, are you master!'' " he ashecl, anxiously. " No," answered Barnabas, in a mild tone — {^n-ateiul, not to Slink for his tidelitv, but to the luck tiuit had not entirely for- saken him. ** What'^s this wet on my neck— it isn't blood, is it ? " " No ; only water. Seeing you was dead 1 went and fetched a hatful of water to bring vou to life. Thank mercv vou're alive, master! Oh, what a inght tliis has been I " " i'ut your finger in your mouth if yon can't keep your teeth still. Do you think I want the casianets to cheer me up Y Well, have you done it ? " " Done what, master ? " " Pitched Talbot's body in the rivt-r." Slink gulped as though his dry throat choked utterance, then : " Yes, I have," he said, and added fervently, "may God for- give me ! " " Well, go on , U me how you did it." "I can't — 1 can o. Oh, when I rolled him down the bank, and he lay there in the water, witli liis face all wliite except for the dark stain, all white and turned towards me from among the rushes " "Great powers! You didn't leave him like that to bear witness against me? You shoved him in altogether?" " Don't ask me ; for mercy's sake don't ask me ! " said Slink, in a terror that made his speech hardly intelligible. "One word, fool. Did you sliove his liead ui or not? " " Yes, I did," and then, sinking on his knees, Slink said again, " God forgive me 1 " is lips, as he of his CHAPTER XLII. First e stars ig the llected t, and t come ■slink t" ILL TlItl.NGS. Mrs. Walkkh stood in her drawing-v^om nrrnn^"!!"- the ribbons of her elegant bonnet l)ef()re a ghiv. I.ady Hetty sat near a window working at a strip of emJ;roii]eiy. "Once more, Lady Hetty, will you aciompany me ? " asked Mrs. Walker. f:Ff1'-r!=! 198 i.:::rv;:vANT r.A::N'Ar.AS. "Onre movp, lA'liciii, and at tlie rink of being thought ungruteful, no.' ** 'Twill be the Lest and genteele-st entertainment of the season." ** I hope you will enjoy it. You shall tell me all about if to-morrow ; that will increavse your pleasure." " You can change your dress in half an hour, and I shall wait willingly." " Why do you press me ? 'Tis a waste of sweetness, like singing to the drowsy." " It has been said that my singing would cure the drowsy of their weakness. If I thonglit my powcis of persuasion were equally potent I would not tire nntil 1 liad cured you." " Why should yon take such pains ? " "Because your symptoms are grave, and gravity of any sort is repugnant to me." " Is there no season when it becomes one to be grave ? " " Yes ; but happily the season doe.-? not set in before forty." Mrs. W'alker seated herself. " Vou will be late, Felicia." "No ; the invitation was for four, and 'tis onh' on the stroke (,f six. I think I shall set the fashion of stating tlie hour at WL-ich an ejitertainment is to close instead of that at which it i^hould commence. 'Twould be more reasonable." " Then for your own sake do nothing of the sort ; for if you are suspected of being reasonable you will certainly beconviitcd of being unfashionable." " Ah me ! Your case is very bad indeed," sifz'hed Mrs. Walker. "Plow long do you think it will be, Lady Jietty, before you smile again ':' " "I caimot say; for the sake of appearances I hope I shall not smile again — before i find something to smile at. ' " My dear, I know the secret of your gravity and sarcasm, and shall take upon myself to give you a lecture. You are thinking about that ill-munuered yonng gentleman, Mr. Tom Talbot." "I do not know any ill-mnnnered gentleman of that name." " Well, we will not call him a gentleman, if the deiinition is incorrect — this highly-respectable barbarian w^howas called to order by our friend Gerard Crewe for insulting you." " Who told you that ? " asked Lady Betty, quickly. " No one. I drew my conclusion, which seems to be correct, from thv» fact tliat neither you nor Mr. Crewe would give me any information of what occurred in the library when the challenge was given. Our barbarian does not conceal his faults, ILL TIDLMi 190 led liall ion i^» leii to rrect, n the I'aults, and we can irnap:ine how he would mishphnve Itiniwflf if his untamed pa-ssiond were provoked. Ihi? oftVuce wa»i so unpar- donable that Mr. Crewe found it necessary to punish him. At that moment you had every reason to be satislicd. Your affront was about to be aveuf^ed; a well-bred ")■'' body. The river Iiiih l)«'tn drui^^ed In'tweeii the phice Whti«« lie wa8 tiirown, and the sluice where liia hat waH dis- covered, without re.sult. It is possible that lie was only si nni.f.l by the fall from his nuire, and n?.stored to consciousness by the inimei'sion in the river he saved himself by swiiinnin;'- to tliu bnnk." " Why that is more tlian possible — it must be so." " Jiut he hiis noi returned to the Hall. And we have inquin'd at the inns beside the river for miles, and no one has seen him." "Then all is lost." •' The ci'rrent is stronpf, for the river has been swollen by the heavy rains of last week, and our one hope is, that whtMi con- sciousness retnviud to him he was fur down the vivcr. Pl\- hansted, perhaps hurt, he may be waiting in some remote cotfai,'-e ujitil he has sullicient strength to return to us." " I pray God it may be so," said Lady JJetty, clasping her bands, and s])eaking with all the fervour of her soul. Gerard bent his head, and added his silent prayer to hers. CHAPTER XLIII. it- DOCTOR BLANDLY IN STANIIOI'E STBKET. A FORTNIGHT later Doctor Blandly called at the house in Stanhope Street, presented his card, and asked to .see iri.«s Klizabeth St. Cyr. He was shown into the reception-room. The Doctor advanced to the middle of the room, and standing there looked round him with the curiosity of a student who' lui.x learnt to gauge the character of people by the things they use ill their every-day life. " Very elegant, very elegant indeed," said he, running his eye over tlie furniture and appointments, " and about as hideous as tlie mind of nuin can conceive." He took off his glasses to rub them before examining the pictures more closely, and was still polishing them with his yellow silk handkerchief when the door opened, and Mrs. Walker entered the room. " Doctor Blandly, I presume," she said, with an amiable smile. The Doctor adjusted his glasses carefully upon his nose, looked at Mrs. Walker attentively, and then answered: " Yes, tliat is my name ; but unless I am greatly mistslcen \: '1 DOCTOR TLANDLY IN STAXIIOPi: STHEET 20r) iv tlie have lie lias by the >n con- . Ex- re mote ing Uef hers. house m see Mif'S on-room. standing lent who ngs they ming his Ls hideous ining the with his aud Mrs. Itble smile, his nose, 3d: mistaken in your age, you are not the young woman I have come to Bee." Unaccustomed to plain speaking, Mrs. "Walker for a mom(>nt could not decide whether to rt'sent or pass over Doctor Blandly's brusnuerie; however, her curiosity to know the object of his visit induced her to regai-d him merely as an amusing original. " I am Mrs. Walker, the bosom friend of Lady Hetty, who is now, at my persuasion, taking the air, but 1 expect her to return shortly." "In that case I will wai*for Miss St. Cyr, if you will allow me." Mrs. Walker made a courteous reply, and begged her visitor to take a chair. The Doctor scanned the collection of chairs, and selecting one from the further end of the room which seemed more trustworthy to sit upon than tlie rest, lie placed it in front of Mrs. Walker and seated hinisclf, saying' : " If the frames of your chairs were a8 stout as the names of your pictures, madam, there would !)»• less danger in using them for their legitimate purpose ; if this room wtTf mine, I would make a bench of the pictiu'es, and hang up the chairs to look at." " You object to elegance. Doctor Hlnndly." " No, madam ; for elegance, as I take it, is that perft'ct har- mony of one part witli another which we find \i\ Xainre's handiwork; but wliere is the harmony b:'t\".>'t'n my ligmv ;iiid the chair I sit upon with treni))ling h 'Tis as if one set the legs of a gazelle undiu* llie l)ody of an cl.'phant." " xou are a humourist, Doctor Blandly." The Doctor made a stiff bow, took a pinch of snutT. and showed no inclination to re-open tlie conversation. Mrs. AN'nlker felt that she must either leave him or conif to direct q tioiis. "Mav I ask if you have niat'e any discovery reiauve to poor Mr. Talhot ? "' she asked. " None. We have foTind not a sign nor trace since the s'cond day of our search." Doctor Blandly heaved a sigh, looked on the ground with raised eyebrows, and tapped the tabln with his fintrers, wliile Mrs. Walker asked herself what could be the object of his visit to Lady Betty. " I am naturally very deeply interested in the unfortuimte gentleman, for Lady Btitty was deeply attaclied to him, and is inconsolable for his loss." " Inconsolable, madam ? and he has been lost a fortnigbt ! "" exclaimed Doctor Blandly, with awakened interest. 2u(^ I.JKI TKNANT LUUNA JAS. i I I %: 1 If >ii \<\ %i m *• 1 iixiir-' Villi ii iHti'tie. I lmvHclnn»' till 1 could toiuukc her for^ft liiiii, l)iit ill viiiii. Hlie rcfiiNOM to jro to tlu- ouera, to Il;iii"liij{li, tu tfu-puitit'.'^, to routs, and at'cludys berseli in her own room vvlieii 1 Imve visitoiM." *• I can scarcflv uiideratand a friend of youra being dull to Kucli ii)triutiund Mr. Talbot. 'riii.H nidibid frindi'inn is not Miitiiral ti» 'ht. jin I ii' w»' are fortuuHtH eiiDHf^li in hfiir iiu iin-i-f oi:' Mr. T.ili*i) , si..' will 8(ion ro(;()vt'i' her lu'iihh ami spirils, .iiid ww iii.mv liii;ii' lo liiul lu'T a fiiiitiiblt' liii.-*iuiiiil iiiiiimgsl ilif iii.iiiy iii|ni'i'riv> .<'h» i«* 8iire to find at tlin \N'fll'<. wlwro I |>''(ipfis»' t(i iiiKi' lu-r lU'Vf month. Yiiu don't thin'( it pnil'iili'* tliai Mi-, i nil. m i>ii1iv«-, Doctor Jilandly i-" " I oaiuiot hope ! " " Nor 1, iii'itlit'r. Xoilii:);^ in fiii-tlu'r from niv h()]»r«<, T ii->iii»' yon, and so lut us truM tlml we luivc lit'uid lit hr^i • f liiiii.iind I lint he is in u happi^M- W(M'ld." ' ** You n)iiy rely ii]inn your devout w'sli liciinr i;v:il iticd. If, ;i.« you hr)pe, .Mr. 'riilliot is in u hi'ttcr woiM '.\Iit me news h " " Not a word. I have been tryin^• for the lust lialf-hour to discoser the object of his visit, hui fitlicr hf is \>-i\ .-.Mijiiil or very ill-mur.nert'd, for I could ;i»'t nothing oui o( him. I am inclined to think from his eoncludiiit( observations that he con- siders himself clever, lie is in the recf])t ion-room ; y ny dear, and see what you can make of him." Lady Hetty opened the door at once, and found herself for the first time face to ftire with Doctor Hlandiy. Her tnothcr's description of him as he appeared in his nMi-.b-iiiiio- (licss lui'. a baiul-ouie satin waistcoat, a snowy frill, ard a well-cnrled wijr. She made him a low courtesy, wliicli he acknowledfred, and then drawing near the window, he placed a cliuir for her m the 208 I.I !■ LTKXANT BARNABAS. ■ I i: ■ I I if, Ml liyiit, where he could soe \wr more perfectly. Slie todk tt r^ mu!, an.l lie, briiifj-iiig hi.s eliair directly in front of her, seated himself, and after looking at her pale, anxious face for a moment in silence, said : *' Your face tells me who yon are, young lady, not from its resemblance to any face that I have seen, but that it answers to my expectations, and, let me add, my hope.s. You are the Lady lietty that poor Tom gave hie heart to." Lady Betty's chin twitched ; she tried to answer, tailed, and dropped her head upon her bosom as the tears started to her eyes. " Do not speak ; I will do all the talking for awhile. I am Doctor Blandly. Give me vour hand, so. Let us who were strangers to each other be friends. Tom has left a space in our hearts that we must seek to fill with new affections. He was dear to me, and I am an old man, but to you, with younger thoughts and sympathies " " lie wa.s my life. I did not know how dear he was to me. 1 am like a child learning to value blessings by their loss." " 'Tisan unfinished leseon to the oldest," said Doctor Blandly, gently. The tone of commiseration touched her to the heart. liis sympathy was the first she had received. Gerard had sought only to console her ; Mrs. Walker endeavoured to reason her out of suffering; other friends she had none. She cried freely now, and Doctor Blandly did not attempt to restrain her tears. Purposely the old pathologist lanced her wound, knowing the relief ir would produce, and he encouraged the outflow of her grief by gentle words of pity. After awhile her weeping ended in a long, shuddering sigh, and she wiped her eyes with a brave resolve to cry no more. But her soul was full of gratitude to tlie pityiTig Doctor ; she pressed his hands between her moist, hot nalms, and looking in his face wondered how any one could mistake him for a misanthrope and a woman-hater. **No man who disliked women could be so womanly tender," slie tliought ; " no wonder 'i om loved him." Then her thought? returned to her lost lover. " You have brought me no hopeful news P " she asked, wistfully. *' No, my child : the news I have to give you is not good." " Has his body been found ? " ' " Even that poor consolation is denied us. It is concluded that he was cii.ried by the current far down the river, and that the shore-folk robbed him of his clothes, and sunk his corpse to avoid inquiry, We shall never know wliere he lies." Lady Betty, sighing, shook her licud and lap.sed into areverie, LADY RiriTY KEA(^Iir:s A Tl'UNLNii-l'OlNT. .•' «.♦ anc jluded and nk his lies." !verie, wliicb J)oc'tor liliir., and those w*-o will not be well. Your body is weak, probablv by fasting when you should ha\e been eating, and that accouiiis for the gloomy hopes of perpetual sorrow that you wish to en- courage. Eat and drink, my dear, and sleep wlu'ii \ou may. Be strong and brave to the utmost of your power, and, above all, be true to nature and yourself. The angels shall acquit you of heart lessne.ss, and your own conscience will he satisfied." Then the Doctor took his pinch of snutl, replaced the box quietly in his pocket, and dusted himself caietuliy with \i'>^ India handkerchief. Lady iietty watched the play of hi.s features with furtive glances, until he fixed his eyes on her face, and looked at her with troubled uncertainly. " My dear," said he — " I have news for you, concerning your temporal position, which will give you trouble; and I am in hesitation whether to tell you now or to wait until your health b more robust." 14 210 Lii:r lENAN'T n.v :!N'a :;as. ; I • I i!^ I; '' I Ciin li(^nr to lu'ir aii\ lliiiijr now, Doctor liliitiilly." " Well, then, yoii .shall lu-iw what your friend .Mi>. \\'ullvi'r has been endeiivom-hitr to tiiid out tor hulf an hour and more. Tn the first, I presume that you know nothing" of thepectmiary position in which you were ])hiced at your mother's death.'' " She told me tiiat she hud placed her property in your hands for disposal, and her attorney sent me a 8um of money about a month since, as a (juarterly payment of the interest arising from it. That is all I know. After mamma's death 1 was too troubled for a time to think of such trifles, and he — Tom assured me one day that I need not bestow any thought upon the matter." " If he were living it would still be unnecessary. Your mamma loved you very much, my child, but she was not a wise woman, nor a considerate woman. It was her dream that she should see you married to a wealthy husband before she died. To realise that dream she considered it necessary to occupy a position in society which the mere per-centage of her money could not procure." " Doctor Blandly — are you obliged to tell me this ?" " I do not willingly undertake a ^jainf ul task ; it is only be- Cfltise I think it necessary that I disclose the fact which others be.^ides your mother have tried to keep secret. You cannot accept without inquiry a bare statement of the consequences attending your mother's inconsiderate act ? " " Tell me the result, and let me question afterwards if it is necessary." "When the money you have now is spent, you will be penniless." ** Penniless," echoed Lady Betty, unable at once to grasp the meaning of the word. " You have nothing more to receive. Do you comprehend all which that implies? " " I will try to do so — when my purse is empty I shall have nothing to give the servant who waits on me; when my dresses are worn out — if I wish to lea\ e my friend — if I stay — oh ! " she clasped Iter hands as she realised that henceforth she must depend upon hospitality for a roof and charity for clothes. " Shall I explain how this comes about ?" asked the Doctor coldly. " No," she cried with quickened energy. " If my degradation is due to any act of my mother's let it oe hid for ever." " Remember the money was entrusted to me — a perfect stranger to your mother." LADY UETTY KKA(;.ii:s ^ TLillvINc;. POINT. »il be for "J'lii no' to To!ij nr»r— nor to me. T am onntent to ti((vi»i the result of my mother's act witliuut questioning her love oi' your honour." Doctor Jllandly bowed, but his forehead lost none of its creases, and he resorted to his snutf-box for the means of solv- ing- the dilHculty before him. •' 1 am afraid," said ho, " that you Avill not iirdily. " 'J'hat's a lie that could do you no harm. NVha; I t>'ar is, that the wf)man may resent ymr sileiKe, and lay the hlame upon you, or — one who is dealer to you perliH])s, than yoin.self." " You mean Tom. T'ut how could she intro(luce his mime into an affair with which he had iiulhiny to do r '' "She miiht discover that he liatl .s.iniething todowith it."" " .\ word from you would disprove that.' " You are in error — I could not disprove it })y any number of words," " You shall tell me all. Huv can h*^ be concerned r '' ** You wish me now to tell yon all 'f " "Yes — I — I — I am not consistent perhaps, but I could not rest with anything- that concerns /lim untold." " There is little to shock you in what I have to tell — atid take this from me, my dear Misjs Betty — concealment is more tei rible than revelation : no harm ever was don*- by telling- and ktiow- iug the truth, but fiom blinking it there has been more miserv U-2 ri LiErnrrAXT tut^.X-viias oil thif t^;irth than you r-an suppose. When we admit that your lu )ther was h)viiig and unwise, we give her blame and praise, I jat reduces her no lower than the level of womankind. To be • lieply loviiifr and deeply wise at the same time, seems hardly |) )s8ible to ouu Inunamty. Look at your mollter as a woman \\ hose love exceeded her wisdom, and you can hardly regret iier folly." A faint smile of gratitude passed over Lady Betty's face, a?id y.ie nodded her head. " Your mother, infiuonred by her hope.^ for your welfare, against my disniasions determined on investing all her money II an annuity terminable at her death. She would not believe I at her tenure of life was uncertain, though I warned lier of ii r danger, and allowed my temper to express itself in no .iieasnred terms. " Seeing the ruin that impended over yon, T resolved topur- (• lase the annuity with a sum of money Tom Talb(jt had desired me to invest for him, knowing that he would be just, and, more t!ian that, generous towards you. He knew nothing of the con- ifaet until your motlier's death. I wished him to refund what remained of your mother's capital ; but to spare you the know- ledge of your motlier's indiscretion he refused the proposition, II ml desired that tlie annuity should be extended to you." •■ Oh ! my good, generous Tom.' '•' Alas, you havn reason now to regret his generosity. Had ii.' followed iny advice you would now iiave had sufficient to st'cure you a mod. 'rate income." " Then I thank CJod I have nothing." *' Hum ! Von have not learnt much from the teaching of Mrs. Walker, or it has Vmch of a negative liind. I doubt if any !i iiount of generous sentiments would compensate her for the i.)ss of eighteenpence." " He could have ol)liged me to sever myself from the society ill' disliked had he chosen io exercise the power he possessed." " He might, HeaviMi be praised. Tom's faults were of a manly iiiiid,'' said Doctor lUaiKlly, sententiously. " "Well, to come to '.he end of the poor fellow's praises, the day before his duel he made me witness his will, which disposed of his pioperty in 1 wo equal portions — one half for you, the other as I expect for me. Aow don't cry again, my child - it was a foolish will, and what the deuce he did with it no one knows. In his modesty l.e omitted to put my name in the document lie showed me, ■•'.lid after it was fairly set out he took it away to insert the name. Possibly, he destroyed it when he left the field safe and t»ouiul i posiiibly, he had it ui one of his pockets when he was LADY BETTV llK.VCIIKS A TUKNING'-POINT. ironr iiise, .o be ivdly Miian egret 5, and "Ifare, iioney t'lieve her of in no \o puv- lesired I, more he c liim will be called in. And now, my child, you know all my bad news." Lady Betty smiled with a sigh of relief to find the bad neM-,-) so good. There was nothing in it she regretted now. Evhu her mother's fault seemed kind in the light thrown upon it by Dor^tor Blandly. " You will wonder, Miss Betty," said Poctor Blandly, after a pause, ir which he watched the young pale facR attentively, •* why I don't take my hat and bid you good morning. AVhon a raven has croaked, the next thing expected of him is that he shall fly away. As I stay, vou may take it that I have a hetttM* disposition than a raven. Will you tell me if you have any friends other than the woman of this house r* " " Mr. Gerard Crewe is the only intimate friend." " A young woman can scarcely open her mind to a young man, or ask services of him, and a young man whose gallantry would lead him to do your bidding whether it be good or bad, and whose breeding would silence his tongue when it was necessary to give you unpleasant advice, is not the friend you need. Try me, young lady, and don't be afraid of trying me a good deal." He held out his hand, and Lady Betty willingly gave him hers — feeling as he held it the significance of Lis grasp. "Now tell me the state of your affairs, and we will try and come to an arrangement for the future. How much money have you ? " "All that was sent to me by the gentleman in Lincoln's Inn." " And how much do you owe ? " " I do not krow — since mamma's death I have had dresses and bonnets, but Mrs. Walker said the tradesfolks could wait for their money." " I warrant she did. Well, my dear, and did your mother leave any bils unpaid ? " " Yes, a gr( at many." "Did she i^ow." The doctor appeared to be greatly sur- prised. " But 1 u'vresay she gave a bill as well as received one. Uo you think it possible that she gave a bill of sale upon her furniture and effects ? " "I received a letter yesterday concerning something of the fl -^ \ ui: V « \- I • >»• IAS. kind. I'lii I cdiiM nr.«tand it. We didn't learn these iimtttM> in our aritiimetic at scliool." " No, iny dear — knowledge of this kind does not come undey flu- hvnd of (!ii'f>ant accompliiiliment.s. But it should. Have you the letter:"' " It is in this porket, I think. Yes — here." Doctor Blnndi\ read it throngli every word carefully, and folding it, said: "This polite note informs yon that Mr. M. Moss will be under the painful obligation of taking possession of all your house in Purk Lane contains, unless the sum of three hundred pounds is paid by the 25th instant." '•Threo Inmdred pounds! I have not so much." " No, Miss Betty — no," the Doctor said, putting the letter in his pocket. " I will call upon .Nfr. M. Moss this afternoon, and ee»^ what can be done with him." \ " IVrhaps he will wait like the other tradesmen." " r take it that Mr. M. Moss is a Jew ; if he is, one cannot rank him wi(h the other tradesmen, for Jcv/s are scrupulously exact in collecting their debts and taking advantage of their oppoi't unities." "And my other debts!" Lady Betty was aghast as her eyes opened to the realities of her position. " Collect all the bills you have, my dear, and let me have them. Not now, but when you are packing up your things to leave tliis liouse. liy the way, will you do me the honour to be my visitor when you are free ?" Already the question, " Where am I to go ? " had risen in Lady lietty's mind. This invitation came at the very moment it was needed. '• I shall be very glad to ' She checked herself abruptly, struck by the sudden perception of lier dependent position. " Then tliat is settled," said the Doctor, briskly. " My house is too large for me. I will have two or three rooms prepared for you, and the sooner vou come and take possession of them the "better I shall like it'." " Doctor Blandly, I am very grateful for your kindness. I shall accept your advice and seek it without hesitation, and I shall be happy to visit you ; but 1 beg you will not make any preparations, for ray stay will be quite short." Doctor Blandly was astcmished by the altered tone in which she spoke — firm and self-reliant — and he looked at her curiously for a moment iu sileuce ; then he rose, and with a stiff bow answered : . « Very good, Miss Betty, tery good," and taking a final pinch A FRIEND IN SVAID '2V vrn tliese ime undey d. Have fully, and !8 will be r all your 8 hundred le letter in moon, and one cannot rupulously ge of their last as her (t me have ir things to honour to ad risen in ry moment f abruptly, losition. I" My bouse 8 prepared n of them lindness. I ition, and I make any le in which ir curiously |a stiff bow fipal pinch of snuff, he added to himself, '' I'roud us Lucifer, for all her misfortunes," Jjady Betty seemed absorbed in thought, and so after u few minutes of unproductive conversation, Doctor IJIaudly left h( r, pressing her hand warmly when they pnrted, and readinfr the unspoken thoughts in her clear eyes. He was not diispU-ased with what he rend tliere. Ihit it took Lady Betty longer to find out what had prompted her to refu.se Doctor Blandly's hospitahty, and to see that she had arrived at the turning-point in lier Ufo. • ■ '. « ■ CHAITEU XLV. A PRIKND IN NKED. Lady Betty ran with soft, quick steps past (he drawing-room, and reached her room without interception, and sat tliere for half an hour after she had cluinged her riding-dre.ss for an afternoon gown, with her hands in her lap and lier eyes before her. Then she rose brisklv and l)eean to ruminase her boxes and drawers where her papers were scattered— slie was not a very orderly young person — selecting from among them the unpaid bills. " Mistress is about to drink a dish of tea, and she wishes to know if you will join her as she is quite alone,'" said u servant at her door. " Say I will be downstairs alm«)st immediately," replied Lady Betty, She waited but to close the open drawers and boxes, and then ran down to the drawing-room, folding the collected bills, and putting them away in her pocket. "My dear Lady Betty, this cruel visit must have quite un- done the good effects of your ride, I syni])ath'SH with you sincerely. Take this tea, my love, and tell me all al)out it. You found tliat dreadful old Doctor quite insuppor'able, I am sure," said Mrs, Walker, " On the contrary, I found him very kind and considerate," replied Lady Betty, taking a seal at the tal)le, "I forgot that his interview was with I^ady Betty, It is quite impossible to be iinamiable with you, my dear," Lady Betty in ined her head, and showed no signs of being communicative. " He came chiefly to offer you his sympathy, I suppose, dear ? " said Mrs, Walker, returning undaunted to the charge. 216 MEUTEXANT IJAT^XA HAS. ^. ** Mo, 1 think his main purpose was to spc^ak about an affair of business. He was my poor mother's a(»-t'iit, as you know. IJy-the-bye, Felicia, you nave some unpaid bills of mine, I think. Could you let me have them ?" " My love, they are in a hundred different plnces ; it would take me a month to lind them. Voii neeii not he anxious about them, they will be sent in again only too certainly." " 1 would look for you, if you oould tell me where to search." " Why are you so eager to have them ? " " I wi^h to pay them." "Then I shall certainly not let you have them. Don't look so preposterously grave, dear. The ojily- pressing account is the dressmakf»r*s, and we must pay that, or we shall never ^et our dresses home in time. There ought to be a law to bind dressmakers to punctuality, then we should not be put to this harassing necessity of paying bills whenever they are presented. Slie will be here tomorrow with the fashions to measure us for our travelli'jg-dresses, and I will settle your bill at the same time with ny own. Don't trouble yourself about the money, when we return from the Wells will suit me, or not at all, if you like it better." " How good and generous all the world is f " thought Lady Betty, and involuntarily her tongue spoke her thought. " What have you to be thankful for ? — appreciation P That follows as the natural result of your mingling with people of taste. I object to gratitude, 'tis a mean, middle-class sentiment, an acknowledgment of inferiority which is unknown to us. We are equal; we are generous and expect generosity ; we accept services as our right. W hat style of bonnet shall you have for the journey ? " " I shall make my straw do." "Straw! when nothing but beaver and silk is the rage.^ Nonsense ! You sliall not dress out of fashion just because you have a little trouble on your mind. I shall buy you a bonnet I saw this morning : 'tis a charming trifle, and with a mantle to match." '• Don't you think my tippet will answer all purposes, the weather is hot ? " " All the better reason for not dressing liglitly. Never be bourgeois in your habits. Dut why should I tell you this, who have always shown such excellent taste and headed the fashions ? " " It is necessary for me to be economical." " Oh, you aie dreadfully, alarmiugly shocking I Economical I what a horrid word 1 " H! A FHIFAD TX NKi:!). 217 ?ver be lis, who led the )inical I "Nevertheless, my circumstances oblig'e me to be onving." " Another ubominiible expression, my deur. If at this moment you are pressed for money you must permit me to supply your wants, I have had property left to me, and I know what a long time it takes in passing thrnugh the lawyers' hands. I assure you that for six months after my father's demise I suffered unspeakable agonies, and I wished him back a hundred times, for I was at the mercy of his executors." " I have enough money for my present necessities, thank you, Felicia." "Then, in that ca^e, you will have a silk bon.et, and what- ever is the bon ton in dresses." Lady Betty inclined her head in acquiescence. She had accepted to go to the "Wells with Felicia, and she was bound to dress consistently. Felicia bent forward and kissed her, pleased with her sub- mission. " When shall we leave London ? " asked Lady Betty. " In three weeks at the furthest; sooner, if our dresses are finished." " And how long shall we stay there ? " "Until the end of the season. By that time you may reasonably hope to be in legal possession of your poor mother's property. I suppose Doctor Blandly is an executor ? " " No. My mother made no will. Poor soul ! she had nothing to leave me." " Nothing to leave you. Lady Betty ! Why she was con- stantly talking about — " " She made a very unfortunate speculation shortly before her death, which has resulted since in the loss of all she possessed." "But she settled something upon you, surely ? " " Not a penny, it was not in her power to do so." " You have not whispered a word of this to me hitherto." "I was ignorant myself until Doctor Blandly told me this afternoon." " And you heard him without going into convulsions ? you did not even faint away ? and you can sit there and talk about it as calmly as if nothing had happened ? Oh, I cannot believe " It is quite true." " But you have some resource ; Doctor Blandly, perhaps, has promised you assistance ? " " I have no resource, in the sense jou mean, and I cannot accept assistance from a gentleman um-elated to me by any ties of kindred or family friendship," ^doU (fl pi «^ r *:i8 LIKITKNANT lUlXAIlAM. "Tlint is an fxr-llent renson for not offerinj? asMisfaiice, but none for refii.siiijf ii. Ohh lieiirs evrry day of persons nuikinjf donations to pfift'ct strungors, but I never yet heard of them b«'in;r refused." " 1 am not in a position to receive charity," said Lady Hetty, r.ither sliurply. A prr>vMrl) ulioiit beirr,''ars on horseback crossed Mrs. Walker's mind, but as she looked at her friend's young face and graceful tigure, she was yet inclined to be hopeful, so .she kept the reflec- tion to her."a.>^(>M." "Oil, Felicia! how can vou for a moment think I could dt'.sfvnd to such a lia»*eiu'.s.« 'r ' " I ,st^e nothing ba.^e in marrying a wealthy husband." Mrs. NN'alker luul married an old man for no better motive than the prospect of inherit iinj' his riches. " It seems to me, Lady I^Hfty, that poverty has exalted your sentiments to a pro- digious extent, which is unfortunate, since, if there is one thing more than an ither that the poo"^ cannot affonl, and ought to get rid of, 'ti.-^ pride." "On tlie (r;>ntrary, I think 'tis the one thing they must retain !ii desf rve respect." Laily M»'tty spoke with warmth, and would probably have Slid miuli more, but that she was checked by the remembrance of Felicia's previous kindness, and a suspicion that she did not Mi»^aii what slu' said. " Then what on earth do n'ou intend doing ? " " I have not yet liad time to determine. Come, Felicia, be your luitnral s^df. We iire alone, and worldli"ess is a mask that you put on to suit the cynical humour which is in *'nshion. Forget that you are Mrs. Walker, and advise me as Felicia." •*I have given my advice, and been accused of suggesting baseness," responded Felicia coldly. " You spoke under irritation." "Not at all. I shall be glad to alter my views if you can show bt'tter. Tell me your ideas, and I shall be happy to assist you " " T know you will, Felicia." " Witli any siigj-'stions tliat may occur to me,"Mr8. "Walker .Slid, concluding her broken sentence. •" In the first place the furniture and china in Park Lane will have to be sold," moe, but i making of them Iv Hetty, Walker's graceful he veflec- id a little 5forc the c I could d." Mrs. J than the me, Lady o a pro- one thing ought to inst retain iibly have lembrance he did not ^elicia, be is a mask ioh is in .vit*e me as Higgesting if you can happy to •8. Walker 'ark Lane GKRARD TALiiur. •JI» "Sell your furniture! Why all the world would know it in twenty-four hours, and what excuse can you make 'I " " The necessity of paying my niotlier'M debts and my own.'' If Lady Betty had propoi^ed escaping her creditors by meann of the Messieurs Mongolfier's ballo< n, the notion would not have appeared more preposterous or wildly suicidal to Mrs. Walker. " Go on, my love," she said, with forced calmnesi?. "I do not know how much I ahall realise by the sale, and 1 cannot tell the extent of my debts, but I think I shall iiave more than a hundred pounds when all is settl-d. I must try and get the matter arranged before I leave London." " A hundred pounds, and rent and living at the Wells so expensive. Why, after your dress and journey are paid for, you won't have enough to keep you there six weeks." Lady Betty had understood tliat she was to be Felicia's 1. Sir, flint's iviv'iculirly old. Sir, for ln» whmtiV Iwrc 1 i8t nifj^lit, nor hasn't hnon for tiMi d.ivH, a. id u mortal mnni>er of nuMiibHrs lins heon iislcini; after liim." "I suppose a geiiflfman may be in liOtidon without of necessity oominp to this limise P " " Some ffentlemun may, Sir, l»ut Mr. ('rowo is one of them IIS rnn't. I've never known hin> to stay away two nijrhts run- nin? — except when the season's done." Doctor lilandly returned to his coach and jrave the address at which he had nit>t Gerard a fortni^'!\t h'"ore. " Is .Mr. Gerard Crewe at hunie." '' he a.sli»'d of the servant wlio opened the door. Tiie servant fetched a card from the drawer of a table in the piisfiage, and puttinp- it in the l)oct',"*'s linnds. said : "Left here a so'un.ght last Saturday. That is his new address." Once more "Doctor IJlandly returtiod to his co-ch, and, rending the card, told the man to drive him to Cheyne Walk, (ylielsea. Stoppinjr before the inimber imiicated, the Doctor looked several times from the honse to the caiJ in his hand before he could feel sure thai no mistake ImuI been made. The place was dingy and poor, as unlike Gerard's previous dwelling- place as possible. In answer to his he«itati'ig knock a slatternly girl opened the door, and replying to his inquiry told him to walk up to the second flof»r, where he would find Mr. Crewe, and warned him to b ' careful he didn't fall over the breakfast-tray outside the first floor's door. "The luck has turned," said the Doctor, as he ascended the steep and narrow stairs, He knocked; Gerard called " Come in ; " the Doctor onened the door and stood for a minute unobserved, taking in all that met his eye. It v/a-i a small room, one quarter occupied by a four post bedstead, with two strips of carpet upon the floor. The furniture consisted of three rush-bottomed chairs, a wash- stand, a chest of drawers, a banging shelf of books, and a table. Die window was open. On the sill stood a long ale glass, with a couple of clove-pinks in it — the only gracious thing there. The table was set before the window, and Gerard sat at it, with bis back to the door. His cbin rested on his left band; b*s elbow on the table; in his right hand was a pen; on the le. and at his feet, paper. Do( Blandly drew out his snuff-box raechanicallv, and tapped it, keeping his eye on the figure before him. At the sound Gerard turned. lit of tliem H run- ddreas levvaiit * in the lis new I, and, ^ Walk, Doctor lis hand «. Tho welling- opened Ik up to 1 warned r outside ided the r oiiened all that it'd by a he floor. a wash- a table, le glass, us thinff rard sat his left a pen ; jillv, and At the OKIIAI.'D.TAUJOT. ;l "I beg your piinlon, UncUtr ,.liiiu,ly," In- .«ai«i, rising' ; " I thought It wan luy juuii — i wliould say, the maid of the house, lie seated, 8 ir." He placed a chair to face tho window with a nervous glance round the room. Doctor IMandly sat down and slowly took his pinch of snuff. "Do you snutT, Mr. Talbot ? " he asked, extending the box. A faint flush of colour passed over Gerard's fate in being addreeKed by his father's name. "Occasionally," he answtretJ, taking from the proffered box and bowing. " ' Tis a boon not to be neglected, Sir. It refreshes the senses and invigorates tlie mind." ' "Is that a recognist'd fact ?" Gerard a^Icd with more anxiety in his tone than the subject seemed to demand. " It is. Sir— amongst snuff-takers. Perhajis for a young man fresh air and exercise are as elfeclive. Clove-pinks— and very good clove-pinks too," id the Doctor, looking at the tloweif, then taking the glass in Iiis liand and exanuiuiig them n>i»re closely, he jp,dded — " for London. You are toud of flow ers, Sir." "Who is not?" "A great many people. People withonl' hearts don't care for them, though let metellyou that your fatherdid nol care for them, albeit he had a heart as tender as a child's. ]'>v living s.. long on the sea lie relished no colour but blue, and no savour but pitch and saltpetre." The Doctor smelt at the flowers, and said in a tone of encouraging admiration, " Very good clove-pinks. 1 would have you come and see some that I grow at Edmonton. They smell sweetest of evenings and early morning ; you would give me great pleasure, Sir, lo visit me and eat of a fine haunch of mutton that I stuck a skewei' into at my butcher's this morning. 1 shall have it cooked o' Sunday, if the day will suit you.' " The pleasure will be mine," said Gerard. " Pleasures are best when sliared. Sir. Very good clove- pinks, indeed. Will you put them buck in theirpl'ceP Thank you. You have an agreeable view of the river from tiiis window." " It compensates the luxuries that yni; see I piwsess no longer — or it should. I own I find it diflicult at times to reconcile myself to poverty." " It is hard indeed to change at once the habits that have slowly grown upon us — 'tis like the tratisplanting of a shrub ¥^hose roots and fibres have had time to permeate the surround- 222 LlEUJENAM' KAK ABAS. mg soil ; for ii\vliile> it droops aud liin^-nislu's, its hriiisf' 1 Kbres liickin<>- tlu' power to assimilate the streiitrtlienin^' jiiifHs of the eurili ; but anon, Sir, you shall find it strike out with lusty vigour, and flourish with a new and stronger life — especially if the soil b^ richer." " Some plants will not bear tran'^plantinp-, I believe, Doctor.*' " 'Tis true, .Sir, but there are, tluink God, not many such of Kiifilish growth — few indeed, so sappy or so sapless that they will not thrive tlio better by discreet removul to purer and more wholesome conditions of existence." " Slitil' I be wronti in iuking the pergonal application of your reiriarks to myself h " "C'ertaiidy not, if the conclusions I draw from what I see are correct." " May [ aslv you to tell me what tlmse conclusions are ? " "You have turned your back on the gaming-house, and in- tend neverto return to it — as a gamester." Gerard listened gravely, and in silence fetched a chair and seated himself by the table opposite bis visitor. He looked (jut upon the river dreamily, and at length, ending iiis medi- tation with a sigh, turned to Doctor Blandly, and said: " I am afraid you give me credit for more vii'tue than I ha\e. Doctor. You do not know that I left the table of ne(e.-sity." '• \ ou owe notliing, surely." " No ; but my ability to gain is gone." " You cannot believe in luck to such an extent.** "I never trusted to cluince at all 'Twas that which made me successful. Whilst others were alernately elated and de- pressed, my temper never varied, and the advantage on mv side were enormous. I do not think I am cold by nature " " I am sure you are not," interpellated Doctor ISlandly." " But the circumstances of my life — above all the absence of liope, chilled my blood. I saw nothing in the world to wish for but its luxuries — things that could be bought with money. 1 knew no friends, no relatives save the villainous foot-pad who called liiniself my brother, and I owed my position to anony- mous charity. With these trammels I could not hope to rise to any state better than that I held, 1 sat isHed my conscience by punctilious honesty in my dealings at the table, and my only unbition by paying back all 1 liad received from you." "And I wish with all my heart you had kept it." "Had I never met my brother Tom, I should still beagame- ster; but the t'ai uliy of centring my whole th.ought upon the caids, of maintaining a perfect e(j[uanimity under ail conditions OKKWuI) TAl.iU'T. 22:' see inv nee of wish oney. wlm nony- o rise cieiice y only I it ions \vii> wta'.ciif'l ()!i tilt' d;iv lu' first gave iiif his hand in frien 1- Nliip ; it wasdi'.'^tvoyed 1 iie nicnui't yon told nio of oiirndatioii- >hip. The old fetters were removed, and a new Held of hopi md aspirations was o];eneu to me d t( An intense desire to •win a sum of money that would enable me to leave thegnmiiiy-tahle, and learn a profession, seized me and — ■ — " "You lost," said Doctor Jilandly, completinfr the sentence which (ierard had terminated with a sliru;.''. " And a veiy good job too, Sir. Let me tell you I should be very sorry to see dice on a field vert quaitered in the Talbot coat, I should have been belter pleased to hear that yon relinquished gaming for tl;e honour of your father's name." " 1 am a faulty man and not n I'.ero fif romance, Doctor IMandly." " True, Sir,true. Theonly difference between yon is that you avow the truth, where tVther would he careful to conceal it, and so I give you the preference and my hand, if you will take it." * Gerard gave his hand quickly, and the Doctor grasped it, and held it for a full minute. The wrinkling of his brows showed that his thoughts were busy. " And so you think of entering a profession with a view to gaining money," he said. " T am making my first attempt," replied (terard, with a motion of his hand towards the paper on the table. '* Letters — you have chosen a profession that requires no tedious apprenticeship, like the law or physic. All that you require is patience, a pot of ink — and genius." " I have the pot of ink," said Gerard, with a laugh. " And wliat branch of writing do you affect. Sir ? " " I have begun a comedy." " I am told it is difficult to get a comedy read." "T have friends at both houses, and Air. Kemble has pro- mised me assistance." " Your mother had excellent dramatic talent, poor soul I A work of this kind should of necessitv take a long time to complete, Mr. Talbot." " I am making but slow progro s at present." Gerard gave a rueful glance at le scattered sheets of erased work, and the few approved lines. " Do not hurry it. Sir, for the sake of the remuneration you will get by its production. Nature sets us the example of working slowly : nothing that is to last can be done quicklv. If you want money I will lend it to you, and you can give no better proof of your friendship than by accepting my servict?." cs* UKriKNANT lUUNAHAa " I shall not hesijare to ask you for a loan when I actual] \ Ufjed it, Doctor." " Unfortur.ately, 'tis the only kind of a.«/ 1 with Vben I I Doctor vld find lap thrt e faults n\\\ you nd have 8 a critic ndlicious iig to be tiinately Eate of a in holy reading, )ntracted ;ents me subject." ou were / suppose t respect- hitherto esterday with his came the and there 8 not the heir. The news vas sent this morni?ior hv niil;-. t'l* eto-vtird, who Htill occupies the lodge and waits lor iiistiMi- ;< ik>. " f ** IJarnabas must not be allowed to ntnv ilipr. " Not a dav. Sir, wl len w e can Hud tli-- m iri> of lUvnin? him out. 'ossassion is nine pou ts of the l.iw ^vitii xac I a :im i ns that, and he has a ciinning rasf-al t'o' a l.iv. vr. wIk^. I in i'^'mid. is inore tlian a matcli for us. (If has evidencn on !ii,«« •• ide which we ccjuld tiot overthrow. 1 niig it swear that he i> Jlarnabas Crewe until) aiu l)lack in the fac ■. but at llir'.s.nn' time, I nni.st acknowledj^e that he is identical with I hi- child Hiitered in th.e parish r-'uistcr a-i Theo}) nhis Talliot. We liave not asintrle proof that your inollier \sa.«. cuvcinte at ilu- tniif (jf hev mtirriafife ; thrre is nopr(M)r but my words that your father disowned the cliill. f lia\'' only your n. other's last words and my own conviction tiiat .-lie was true to your father aftei- her niarviajre, anJ that you were his lecriimate otTspring, which would iio for nothing in a court of law. Barnabas is to all effect your brother 'i'oui's heir-iit-law." '■ i:iit impo.ssible to find anyone who knew my mother at the time of her marriage 't '' '• Your father removed her from her friends in London, tliirtv vears, or nearly thirty veans, since. What possibility is Ih.re?" . . ' ' " *' But little indeed ; and vi.from whom di'l J?arnabas got his inft)rnuition I-" .Not from tne. certainly, not fron\ you. How c(juM he know t)ie facts which his lawyer iius proo'iiced except b. c mnum catii;g withotie who was in innately ac u n ed with uiv fa'iher or mother. Dept-nd upon it tliore is a third person wlio^e existence we have ignored." The Doctor buried his chin in his hand. " I can th Ilk of no one 1 ut his own father," he said, raisitig his head. "They may have been thrown together by accident ; but we could expect no n.ssistance from, him, since his own interest would lead him to support lis s.ju'.s claim." " That makes the case more desperate. Are we to suffer my father's estate to fall into tht liands of tlies:- two scoundrels y Woidd i;ot iheir very i>ok» convict theiu if they stood before a judtre ? '■ " Not if blu.«ihes were needed as a proof of guilt. T am strongly opposed to making this misfortune publi(\ thoiiih if you wisli il 1 will give you all the suppo; t in my power. In the first place, it could not re.sult in benefit to you." " N'ou do not think I have any motive Uut the honour of my family r" "No, and that is a reason for avoiding publicity. If yon '•:a rj i: A' r n.\'r:.\n.\.^. 4i. t'liilnd 1o ]>rovn vour c-inc, i.aiiialjas would ho r(('o;,;iii.-i' 1 ;i < lef:filimate, and tlie line of tlie Talbots would iiichidf ii wn-tcli whom we know to be a liighwayniaii, whom I suspect to be a inuvderer." " Great Heavens ! do you suspect him of tmirderinp' Tom ? " "AVho else could have so stronnf a motive, if, as we suppose', he knew beforehand of the relationship lielween them r' '" " You think that Barnabas iuur([ere, wi h .Ui r.ii-^ing liishead. "Tis a fact which I slmuld liave su>i) 'cted, lint that the criin.' was too horrible to ainihuti" ;o my Imillier. Har:);ibas a mnrdi'i-er —'twas .shame ennn:h to know him as a thi^'f. Mi/ hrotht-r a innrdcrei" —'tis nn cncnu' a;j'- 'mv.i ri'lli'ction to be^in the new life witli - a passport to dcK-t-nt >o(i"ty- a!i advantaL^e which critics would not fail to mention. anumi^st the merits of my work acharm to win the^jillections of a cnli \iv<'i.\ i;irl.'" '"And a st.nudant to coura^-e. Gerard," added the Doctor. '•So that you are fit'e from blame, why should you heed pre- judiie. Vonr fatlifr was best ]dea.se(l when the sea was crowded with en'Muies, for tht're was the sjreatest prospect of ijhn-y for his Kinq-. liCt your conscience he your kinir : fi'.'ht a L'ood iiiiht for its honour, and never fear wlnit may happen. The y-ood opinion of four honest men —nay, your own satisfac- loin alone — outweighs u thousand tin;es the liattery jgf a crowd of fools.' •'Can wf do riothin•>? •^—t "111.-'' ' I' '' 11 wrt'tch ct to be a i.r Tom ? " 111 .'' ^d Gprard, vidence. i'A his face i 8S Tom's as an idle ids l)"l\vtH'n ii-li 1 SI u add tuaniibiUc le fll(lH;:ll to in cDcoira;.'- rt to dw-t'Ut 1 to nu'iHioii- be«al^t'etioii8 he Doctor. II heed pvo- le sea was prospect of kuifT : tijiht i\\ happen, wii satisfuc- of a crowd Tom the dis- crot into till' lim out witli ise bv. No. lis will prove 's son, but A )iic ; and his iipe 1 ha\.' repent his knavei'V. I am lii-ariih inisiiikin ir' belnre the end i>t' iwrlve iiiDiil lis he ddi's 11(11 oiViT lo liKiiU' a ;)iiMi.- It :)ii.;ci.i;i('ii ui hi,> li^bis tor a t'tfw liimdrt'd poiiiuls down." " W hat power Iiavt; voii ':" lie has ihi' lliill. " And I Iiave th*^ i nonev 'I'lit' Dad. If t'Hik out- lii.q sniif"!"- box, and jrave it a t:ip of >ialisf:i(>t irni. "And rathe:- i h;in It-r a penny or it go into his hands, 111 ."(jujuider it all m ihe (^ourt ot (Chancery, lie can't pay his expanses, and his lawyer \\ ill not umlertake a game at '■liicii hi- miis, intheiMil lo.-e. J|.. !i\' kill a few head of (K'e;*. a'u! slivjot as imeli ;jaiiie as he ni lik -let h im. There will still he enough for ii.s 'lei (I I'l'ieiiraff his (iejaifine when his time conits. He m;!y eii:pt\ the cillai H'H )!•( )liablv will in a few v>'fk> - let hii n, a 'am I sft V Tliank lieaven there 8 n cave fidl of port and Ihii'ijimdy thai i« Iv As \-i v'liown to no one hut me — now lliai poor I om s u'.ii'". .\s roi- the reuis of the pi'o])rTty, my mm in Line (Jn'is Inn will ^I't ,iii injmietioii lo stop him {roin rec.'ixin^ a nii.;. lie .-.hiiii'; eiit a ,>injile one of tho.inch, Mr. Talbot — and if he can .-leep alone in that empty Ilall, with no lijnor to stni)ely his senst\<. lie is n.ji the man I take him to be. Twelve iuonil:s--why I won't ^nve hiiu six months lease of l^s ill-p»it.eu home. We s'.iall iia\e him whiniufT at our ftui for nie.cy and pardou before CUriilmud id upon us, Sir." CriAPTElJ XLVTT. THE TAMING OF MUH. HAXTJOR. •' Park Lane, Aii;^ii.st i, i8oo. "Dear Doctor P.lanHly, " I should be Avantinfr in due appreciation of yonr kiiul- ness if I failed to ask yonr uiiii- taiea at once. I have collected my dear mother's bills, and find that my liabilities amount to the sum of four hnndied atid seventv pounds .seventeen .'*hillino's : this with the sum owinff to Mr. Moss reaches a total of seven hundred and seventy V L5— 2 228 r . I K UT K X . V N'T r V ': x a ius. poiiii'ls spvon'een shillings, 1 Iuivh in my purse nearly one imndred and niiiety-sevenly pounds, and tluit with the proceeds arising from the sale of the furniture, tfcr., in the house will be, 1 hope, more than siiflicient to pay all I owe, including the rent of the house. " Rut 1 do not know any gentleman in the auctioneering trade, and so I ask you to tell me wliat course I shall take for the disposal of the china and things. I have had everything well brushed and polished, and save my clothes and a work-hox which was poor dear mamma's, all packed in two trunks, and an elbow-chair which is set aside in the garret, everything is ready to be sold, and may be seen by applying to me, or to the person in ciiargo of the house if I am absent. "With sincere gratitude for your goodness to me and my poor mother, " I am, dear Doctor Blandly, "Obediently yours, " Elizabp:th St. Cyr." il :i Doctor Blandly read this letter, which he found beside the "Times" newspaper on his table when became in from making the tour of his garden, which was his custom, in fair or foul weather, before sitting down to his breakfast. " A very good letter ami well writ,' he said holding the sheet at arm's length, and hxtking at the eve^ lines and bold characters with a kindly critical eye. "Neatly folded, well expressed and every line of it tlie unstudied product of a clear and healthy mind — so 1 take it." lie read it again, comment- ing as he went. " Beset witli diffictdties — aye, ayo, you have need of a pilot, poor cliild — thrown like a frail skiff into the hurrying cmrent of the work-a-Jay woiid, where be abundniu-i- of hard rocks and few placid pools I .... So Mrs. Walker has permitted you to go your own way. Or^ understands that. 'Tis well for you, ^liss Betty, though I wager your heart ached to find her so ficklt! a friend .... Duties — duties? Ila, yes, tlie duty of living frugally upon her .sletider means She's more anxious to discharge her debts than to make a pi-otit for herself — a good girl Don't know any gentleman in the auctioneering trade — no, nor I, my dear; nevertheless we must content our.silves with such as we have Two trunks and an elbow -chair set aside in the garret — a chair too old to sellperluips : and is that all the furnilureshe re.serves for her new home. Everything ready to be sold — that means much — the selling of all that is dear by usage and familiarity, yet not a word of the pain it costs to part with them. 1 can fancy the ■"il THE TA.MINii OK .M!;s. MAXTHR. •2-y.) V one ill be, e vent eering ike for V thing rk-box ks. and liing is» [• tQ the ind my ■side the I making f or foul dinjT the tuid bold kd, well f a clear omment- ou have into the bundanc" . Walker mdstbat. art ache last time, and bravely siaimchiiiff her tears the while. "I'is a hrave yirl — and her lirief, clear letter i.s more touching- than if it were tilled with regrets and blotted with tears - u good, bn'\e girl.' I)i)ctor Hlandlv laid down the letter and tooli mi the " Times," a< if to divert his thoughts from the .subject until he couM think of it with les.«i emotion. As his eyes wandered down the colutun.s of the paper they fell upon this advertisement : " A Voung Ladv desires an engitgement in a tamilv or school, to teach young children. — Address, Mi.ss .St. Cyr, I'ark liane, Lcmdon."' •'\V "hat," he cried," she is prepared to work for a livelili(>od, and submit to the tyranny of a jealous mother, or a grasping .sfhool-mistress, for a pittance scarcely sutficient to ])ny cK)the.s to her back, rather than accept my protection ami help I liy George, she's a trump of a girl ! " He sat in cogitation for. some time, looking now at ilie letter and then at the advertisement, and again at his slowly twid- dling thumbs. Finally he rose from his seat and lung the bell. " Bring me my Sunday coat and shoes, Jerry," .said he, when the old servant appeared. " Your Sunday coat and shoes, or vour fishing coat and shoes, Sir?" " Do I look as. if I were going a-fishing p " Jerry looked in his master's face, and finding not a particle of pleasure in its expres3ion, withdrew without asking for further confirmation. Doctor Blandly walked over to the Vicarage. A pastor in a garden, surrounded by his children, ought to be a subject worthy of a painter, but the Ileverend John Baxter, under similar conditions, was a subject deserving rat Iter the practical sympathy of the philanthropist. Jane, his youtig-est daughter, was cutting her teeth, and had to be nursed; little Anne was quietly making herself ill, and staining her clean bib, with ■mulberries : and the two boys, in open rebellion against their father, refu.sed to study their primer, and dodged him among the privet hedue, in'ikinj; hin wuy towards the virarujie. Abandoning his child iu the greater danger which awaited his friend, Mr. Baxter moved towards the privet hedge to warn his friend off, but Doctor Hlandly was already in the garden, and close to the door of the house. In vain he waved his arm as a signal to retreat, and shaped with his mouth the words, " Don't ; for the love of heaven, don't ! ^S?ie'/< at home!" Ihe Doctor was deep in thouL'-ht, and never averted his eye from the path before him until he had knocked at the door of the Vicarage. Mrs. Baxter hyrself opened tlie door. S^lie had a pen in her liand,and a lart expression on her face. " You have come to see Mr. Baxter, I presume," aaid tlie Ittdy, frigidly. " No, madam, I liave coin-^ to i=iee you. If you can give me five minutes' attention 1 will explain my business." '* Business! Baxter has not told me a word of it." "Baxter did not know, madam : so 'twas not his fault thai you did not know, nor yours neither," he adiled, in an undertone. Mrs. Baxter led the Doctor into a grim chamber, \%here a number of parochial books and papers showed that .-'Iih was managing her husband's business. Doctor Blandly seated himself on an angular, narrow cliair, with a slipping horse-hair seat, and came to the point without waste of time. "Mrs. Baxter," said he, "I hear you have lost your governess." " I sent her away at a minute's nf)tice for impertinence." " Poor soul ! " "Oh, of course, you pity her, Doctor Blatidly." " On the contrary, ma'am, 'tis you that I pity. The young woman has, in all probability, found another engagement more suitable to her disposition, whereas you are still without a governess for your children, which must of necessity give you less time to devote to your husband's affairs. Will you be good enough to look at this advertisement, which I have cut from the ' Times ' newspaper of this morning." Mrs. Baxter took the cutting, and drawing down the corners of her thin lips in anticipation, read it through. " I see nothing attractive in that" she remarked ; " a f/ovnff lady wishes for an engagement. Governes'«hould not have tliought it worth while to siiow you the ad\er1i,--enient.'' "Miss St. Cyr. I should have thought initials, or her christian name alone, more approprijite. She does not mention the name of her mistress, which is, in my opinion, a fln^-iant outrage upon propriety, as the lady lives in Park Lane." " Miss bt. Cfyr has no mistress, and the address given is iier own house." " Impossible ! " " Not at all. She is an orphan, and the whole of her fortune was lost through an inifortunate invtstmunt wliich 1 made with her mother's capital shortly before her death, wliich happened in May last." " 1 have not heard a word of this from l>axter." " For certain reasons, madam, I do not tell lluxtcr all that I do and know." Mrs. Baxter read the advertisement ngiiin, and her lipsin.sfea(i of being drawn down towards her chin, were now stretched back in a horizontal line towards her ears. " Her modesty is certainly becoming," she said, " and "iwouid be a great advantage for Samuel and Luke to be instructed ijy a refined young lady. Under their fathei-'s iraining they have grown 80 violent that I tind it dilHcult myself lo coinnn.ml lespect. Little Aime can walk alone, and 'tis high time she learnt a hymn, and Jane is very fractions of nights." " If you read the advertisement agiiin, you will see that Miss St. Cyr does not undertake to do tlie work of a nurse." Mrs. Baxter drew up her mobile lips iiUo the reseiubhince of a bladder-neck at this reminder, and theti ^liuking her iiead said : "I do not as a rule employ unfortunate people: they are generally undeserving, and frequently expect iiidul;:»'tice. in- stead of showing that active atixiety to give .sit istiic, ion which their humbled condition should prompt. Still, t'.iey are more ready to accept moderate terms of remuneration tljaii people of greater experience." " As concerns remuneration, Mrs. Baxter, I have a sug^'esiion to make, which 1 hope will not be u- "icceptuble. 1 wish you 10 give Miss St. Cvr whatever terms she asks without al)atement, and in addition, I wish her to be provided with all the comforts you would oflfer her were the young lady merely a gue.-r)j she hud jrathered, ci'ii- tent with her occupation and an occas ojial look at the blue sky through the foliajre of the apple-irce, and the coloured IihU tiuit skirted tlie lawn. Presently the doctor drew a lini^" breath, knitted his finger-tips and slowly twifldled his thumUs. ~ A Then iu a low voice he snug lis master. I ** Because he is a gooc' servant, and fond o have not been here long, and not a moment has seemed t0(» "This littlo old 'oman, so I've hocred toll, Sho wont t'» market her ep^'s for to sell Siufriufi:, tol de rol, do rol, and a hi tol dc rol." Lady Betty gave the softest " ahem ! " Doctor Blandly pulled down his handkerchief. " Bless my soul, Miss Betty 1 " he cried, catching sight of the young lady before him, who, with a little smile on her pretty pale face, and her head on ojie side, was rcgnnling the bouqu»'t she had made. ** Why didn't that fool of a Jerry wako me!''" , Of h not been here long, and not a moment long." " You are tired with your journey. Dear heart I to think I should be asleep ! Jerry ! " " 1 am not at all tired. I have only walked from the Vicar- age, where Mrs. Baxter insisted upon my taking lunch." " The Vicarage ! " exclaimed Doctor JMdndly, with feigned surprise, at the same time stoop' to pick up his straw hat and conceal the expression on 1 . " Now what on earth could have taken you there ' 'y^*" " Mrs. Baxter saw an . mei't I had printed in the ' Times ' newspaper, and to me on Friday to engage me as a governess for her chilaien." " Lord, ah ! Baxter said 8oinetliing about his wife losing her governess, now 1 come to think of it. But what a strange coincidence that she should write to you. lgive«y<)U my word 1 never meniioned your name to Aim. Well, my dear, I hope you have accepted the engngement, for then you will have one friend to come to see now and then." " I have accepted, and I tliink 1 shall begin the new life on Saturday next.' " Via downright glad to hear it. Mrs. Baxter and I don't LADY JiE'n Y'S VISIT. aw hev uge rord lopp lone on get on well toj^ether, but that is an ndvantapre in one respect ; wlien you want to escape from her you can come herA without fear of being followed. Jiaxler'n a good, soft, stupid old fOuI, vou'll like him." He took his pruning-knife, and rising from Ihis chair, said, with a look of much promise, " Come with rae, my dear." lie pave her his hand to rise, and held it in his as they walked slowly over the lawn towards tlu'smmy wall. " You're a brave girl," he said to her, in a low, emphatic tone, " a good brave girl ! Your sorrows Iihv«' come early, hut if we must love and lose, 'tis better to suffer while the heart is young and vigorous. Jkids nipped in tlie spring are not missed m the summer, but nothing nphices the ixutumu loss, and the old stock may not bear anotlier bloom." liiidy Betty glanced at tlie I)ort<.r's face, and her eves filh d ■witli tears, not for herself, but for him. 'i'lie toie of fiis voice, the far-away look in his face, told her that it ^vns not a mere sentimental generality he had uttered, but the summary of his own experience. She held his hand a little tij^hter, and did not break the reverie into wliicli he seemed to have falli-n. She would have been content to walk in silemre for an indeliiiite time, united by hand and licarr in a bond of ftympathy, but they came face to face with the penches, and Doctor BlaiKlly's thoughts returned from thepii,st to 1 lie present, from the passion that was dead to the love that lived. ** There's a jolly fellow ! " said he, turning back a leaf to ex- pose a velvety fruit; " but he will be bfit. r to cut tu-morrow about eleven, another afternoon's sun, and the mellowing in- Hnence of the night air, is waiit-^^d to make him perfect. Xnw down here there's a clinp that ^ ouglit to liave culUd tliis morning, but I couldn't, he looket. so c imfortable and happy." lie led the way down the path, still holding Lady Hetty by the hand, towards the "cliap" in quesiirm: but he stopped to gently lift a peach from the naked brick to the tenderer Mirlace of a leaf, saying as he did so: "11a I ha! my boy! you will rub vour cheek against tliat wall, will you ?" A\ hen they came to the ripe favourite, he paused for a minute or two to point out its excellent poijits to L'vdy Betty, and then planting one foot on the path and the other across the bed against the wall, he opened his knife and cut it from the stem with as much care as if the life of the tree were at stake. He placed the fruit in Lady Betty's hand, and went on to gather another and another lunil he had collected six, and wiih th.'se they returned to the shadow of the apple-nee. At the si'tne moment Jerry came from the hoivse with a bottle aud glasses. CO LIK! I MNANT PAUNA HAS. I -I. II i i \A\] i "I've come upon a bottle of the piet'ii-wrivi'il MarU'iry, niastev," said lie. " l)o you like Madeira, !Miss lietty, or do you prefer the rt-d wine ? " asked the Doctor, Lady 1 Jetty fxpressed lier satisfaction \vitl\ Madeira, and the I)oct(n* poured out (lie wine, after carefully exauMuing- tlu' con- dition of the plas.-es. " Perhaps the ymiufr lady would like a little P)urgnnas his. It was certainly not the one he usually uses — but he keeps a Clarence. Does that sururise you?" The Doctor drew a long breath ; then he smacked his thigh, and giving his head a toss, cried : " Well done, Gerard ! You young people have the courage of the — hum i of St. George himself. Poor boy— so he look you for a drive in a Clarence ! And I'll be bound lie said never a word of his altered condition." " N — — o," Lady Betty replied, opening liereyes wider and wider. " "VVhat is the mystery — why is he Gerard and not Mr. Crewe, and why are you so astonished that he took me for a drive ? " "Because on Thursday morning I found him lodgid in a garret with nothing but a pennyworth of dove-pinks to com- pensate him for all the luxuries he has lost. Surpriyed — no ; now I know him I am not surprised at wliat he did to giveyciu fdeasure. 'Twas not a miserable pride that made him conceal lis poverty, but the fear that the knowledge would prevent you accepting his services. Surprised ! " The Doctor exclaimed giviiig his thigh another slap — " not a bit of it. He is a . Talbot." " Talbot ! " cried Lady Betty, catching bis arm with trem- bling eager fingers — " Talbot ! " V "Yes, lie is our poor Tom'tt brother ! " ' • w i:;s Lii: riiNAN r iuunauas. ii! hi r n' ^i\ ij! •i ! " And he is quit (J ])0(>r? " '' V*'s, poor :i.s iipoet. ll<' lias n-iven iipliis fashionable trade, IfHaiisH it was not fit iov an houest g-iMitlmnaii, and because the honour of hi.s family re.sls upon him." " How can hn be poor and Tona's brother." " Tom nover knew of the relationship." " All : 1 understuTid— but " ** Why does lie not inherit his brother's estate, you ask. My d'tw, tliese nre circumstances which I cannot tell you. Tom •v!s tlie son if Admiral Talbot's first wife ; Gerard, the son of the second; but between them a third porson was born, who was not tlie Admiral's son, and he, unfortunately, usurps a claim wiiidi cannot be contested." " I do not want to know that. Gerard is poor, and he sp it money tjiat he could ill afford to give his brother's sweethv art l)h'asure." " You need not req-ret it, Miss Betty," the Doctor said, see- iiu^- the tear in lier eye. " R"ffret it, no ! I rejoice in it. Tom would have done that, but no man else except his brother ! " ** Thev are j^entlemeu — English gentlemen to the marrow. Miss 1 Jetty!" "And wliat is Mr. , what is Gerard — Gerard Talbot doin^r in his poor jrarret?" " What usually is done in a garret — he is writing a comedy. He brought a few pages in his pocket yesterday, and 1 assure you 'tis prodigious fine. I wanted my friend Baxter to hear 'em read, but the poor man couldn't be spared. However, 1 have bound Gerard to come every Sunday, and read his week's work after dinner until the five acts are finished. And you shall come on Sundays, and so shall Baxter, and we will listen 10 the man's work, and give him our poor help, if we see right to advise. What say you to tliat. Miss Betty P " Lady Betty's eyes glowed with pleasure. She longed, to look at Gerard in the, new character he bore to her. " He is my brother — as much as though the parson had nnirried me to Tom," she cried. "Well, well," said the Doctor, taking out his snuflF-box. " We shall see about that. At any rate, you agree to dine with us next Sunday, an";• " I uliiill Ih- liappy — very liappy to (lome and hsien to iii.> voice. I tliaiiii you very much lur the kiiidiie.ss in thiuliiiig ci me— nid Doctor lUandlv " " Well, my de:ir." " Do you mind my sendius" the elbow rhnir here ? " '•'Send it bv all meaiiM. Is it the chair von inenlioiied in \'>ur letter y " '* Yes — I couldn't sell it, and I do not want to take it .miouff.xt strangt! people." ■' Let me liave it. It shall b ' taken cure of whatever it is. " Lady 1 Jetty faltered : " 'Tis —'tis— 'tis the chair we us mI to call Tom's." CII.\PTEU XLIX. BROTH Kit AM> SISTKIt. Miis. liAXTiiii acceded to Doctor Hhiiidly's reqnesl that Miss Sr, Cyr should be permitted to .^eiid her Sinulays with him. When he asked for the same privih'tjre to be accorded to the Uevereiid .lohn r)axte ■, she coldly said that her hnsljanii was master of his own actions, and was at liberty to do as he clio.se. " In that case vou will come ue.vt Sunday," said Doctru- r.landly. The Reverend .John Haxler, with tears in liis eyes, said tluit he had promised to explain Dnuyan's ''Holy War" to his children, and could not escape. " Very well then, you will come the Snuday fcdl twing,'' said the Doctor, in a tone of initaiioii. Th;» Vicar loolied at liis wife for penui-sion, but tiiat Laily stood with her arms folded one upon the oflier below her spare bosom, her nostrils pinclied, her lips hel•m^tically closed, and b.er stony eyes fixed on vacancy— the very picture of in- his cumL'dy. T^e was astonished by the change he found in her. She had li .er been to him so softly sweet and charming. She was at the house wiien he arrived, and ran down the steps and across the grass-plot to meet him. She called him Gerard lor the first time, as she held his hand and looked up into his face with wide, melting eyes. She pressed him to take refreshment after the fatigue of his journey. She seemed nervously happy, like a child in the presence of a long-expected friend. She listened eagerly to everything he said, smiled when he smiled, was gravely anxious when he spoke of the dillicullies attending the work he had undertaken; he felt that her eyes were fixed upon him when he was speaking to Doctor Blandly. As they sat under the apple-tree, she with a lapful of flowers which she was making up into bouquets for the decoration of Doctor Blandly's ctaimney-piece, it was his taste she consulted first iu the selection, his approval slie demanded. Now and then she looked up from her occupation to his face, and returned to it with a smile. Was the happiness due to the natural surroundings of flowrr and verdure, or to his having entered the field of literature, Gerard asked himself". After doing full justice to the excellent damson pie Kate had prepared for the occasion. Doctor Blandly, despite his endeavours to keep awake, dropped into a doze, seated in his Windsor chair : tlien Lady Betty proposed a walk in the shady side of the garden. She slipped her hand under Gerard'.s arm, and was first to break the silence whicli a mutual happi- ness had produced. " I know all, Gerard," she said softly. "* "All, Lady Betty?" "All that Doctor Blandly thought fit for me to know — all that I want to know. You are poor dear Tom's brother, and since I nm his widow — for indeed our hearts were one — you are my brother also. We are not quite alone in the world, you and I — .ve have lost and we have found. And you are glad to have m(^ for a sist^jr, aren't you ? " " I d'd not expect to gain so much of your affection." " Bu you loved me, all the same. You said to yourself, * There s illy poor little sister all alone in the dismal house in Park Lane ; she has no one to comfort her, no one to take her away from herself,' and you saved up your money, though you were hnrribl poor, to hire a carriage for my use. AimI wliile I still regarded you as a stranger, and looked upon your generoua y BUOTIIKi: AND SISIKH. I'll happi- )w — all ■, and lyou are yid. you glad to lourself, louse in [ike her isrh you [\ wiiile eneroua » kmdufss «s p. niciv m-t of ";illiintrv, vou felt tuwar !> nif a,> I tvA towards vou now." " Doctor Blandly Ihim told you more than he should." " Xot one word, Gerard, for he knew 'twould make me happy. and lessen my grief. And, besides, .freat deal to tell you about my new eii^'ii;,'>'ment. Poor Mr. Baxter is quite a martyr : his biea;!ii(l Lady Betty, making a mock courtesy. She was p-ay with excitt- ment ; and again taking Gerard's arm. she contiiuied: "Of i'ourse I cainiot tell you much yet — for I only look my 'situa- tion ' yesterday ; but I shall kee]» a diary, ami yoti shall see it if you like, when we meet on Sinidays. The boys, m\ pu])ils, are dreadful children: they kick' their father's shins wiien tlieii' mother's back is turned. I have maiie them undfrstand thai they will have to treat me with more respect, or they will form the subject of an additional chapter to Fox's ' Bofjr of Martyrs.' I pity poor Mr. Baxter this afternoon, he has to inteiest tln'in with an explanatiVar.' I could never understand it, could you ? " " I don t thii>k that I ever attempted to." " I used to love the * Pilgrim's Propress ' until I was told it was a kind of riddle with a moral answer to it." Lady lietty paused, possibly to take breath, and after a moment's silence, she said, giving (lerard's arm a little pinch : " I am so fflad you are writinca comeclv, Gerard." " You prefer a poor poet to a wealthy p-nmester ':' "That depends. Poets as a rule are rather ridiculous, wherea«) there is a dash and spirit about gamesters that recommend tlirm o my taste. I do like courage, even w^heu it is not quite what folks call 'proper.'" •* There is no courage in playing with the assurance of win- ung, and a gamester who plays for his livmg must have that assurance." fi' . I •212 T.Tr r-r^y A v" riAKNA !US. " 'I'll .t is 1 nil'. "r.>', <)>'rli.ips, .■.imply becaii i^ \iie xiii»H8te< ■weiirs a better coiit that f'lvh prefer liim to th poet. Men an gui'l(^im for being the brother of her dead lover; but the end of loving him for the sake of another will probably be that she will love him for himself, thinking more of him as anoiher fades from her memory." Tlien the Doctor took bis pinch, which seeiued to give bim much satisfaction. CHAPTER L. IN TOM 8 PLACE. will ;ely. and Iment the |ut of It liould Ire in Iwith Iseem Lady Betty hailed the returning Sunday with a feeling of intense saiisfaetioi. The occupation of the week had not dist lessed her —had not been half so unpleasant as she expected. The children had distracted her thoiiglits, and niade her forget her tioubles for the greater part of the day. But she did not wish to forget : it seemed to her like the neglect of an affec- tionate duty to give so little of her time to the memory of Tom. The vague religious teaching she had received let4 LiKT i ::?;ant nA^tNA;-A«. Hind worship God and lioly things with his unseen csscnpe Iv lier Nide. After the .service she would go hoiue witii Doctor JUandly, and there meet Gerard, in whom i ICtlM iini!N inHiiv i TO»f dciul .ke ail tbuii jacon. ill the oiMiet , ittinp-- ithoiit It tUut iinoneil w'l^ tit IS in rt to th«' 1 Luke, r, while church duties, uishing th high ibserva- assoch'^, hand?', ladoring daily ight in Kvlten it wliirli faults act of keut and ,ith her Ise liit.lt I -sve: II out open, turned his head cautiously, and then Luke, with his tongue hanging out, did the same, and both perceiving that "teacher" was deep in prayer, they grinned at each other. Then Samuel rummaged in hia pocket for a stump of lead pencil, while Luke turned hack the cushion silently, after that thejr began a silent but exciting game of noughts and crosses*, which was not without significance. The bell pealed and then tolled, pews opened and shut, coughing began in good earnest, the clerk took his place in the box under the pulpit, and suddenly Luke turned back the cushion, Samuel concealed the stump of pencil in his capacious mouth, and both buried their faces again, for among the many .sounds thev distinguished the approacliing footsteps of (heir mother. She looked round at her children and her governess with a feeling of devout satisfaction, and as she also knelt, she considered that it would be false humility to deny that she had done her duty to Heaven atid to her family. Then the Ueverend John Baxter ascended his pulpit, from which, as from a donjon, he could securely look down into the family fortress below, and the service began. When the congregation rose, T^ady I3etty obtained a glimpsx' of the gallery ; she turned her eyes towards the t^viit dccupicd by Doctor Blandly, and saw Gerard standing by his side. Ib-r face flushed with pleasure, and a sign of rt'cogiiition pa>se(l betweeji them which did not escape Mrs. jiaxter. Wlio cnM this thin, elegant young gentleman be !^ she asked hersi'll', si friend of Doctor Blaiidly's ? Why had .she heard iiothin.5 of him from Baxter? Was he engaged to Lady Betty P if .so, why had .she not discovered the fart under that delicate cro.'^s- I'xamination to which she had been siihjeeted during the week !' When they met at the church-door after the .service, she learnt that his name was Gerard Talbot, and it somewliat reconciled lier to her Husband's departure to think that she should know all that was to be known of the stranger when Baxter returned j'.t night. .\s soon as Lady Betty was alone with Gerard, Doctor Blandly leading the way with Baxter across the meadow from the Vicarage, she .said, taking his arm : "Thank vou, Gerard." "For what, Lady Betty?" " For coming so early." *• Didn't you expect me ? " " Not so early. The first coach does not arrive on Sunday before half-past eleven ; I asked."' " Thea you hoped I might come early ! " :."3 uk;: ::••/ ■'.\ •1 >• < "Of coiiist! I tiMir't> for a mnn." said be. " Such a morning as ihis would :»Mu>)f me to wn'k. if 1 were ten times lazinr." "'Twni not tm« mornina-that induced you to come : if it had ruined ever ho hard you would have come all the same. You saiii to yourtielf, ' it will please my sister to see me in church/ aud that was sullici'Mit." " Perhaps it would have been snfTicient hftd I Slid to myself, ' it will please me to see my sister.'" " You nse the very words that Tom would have used, Oerard," sighed she. He did not reply, and she attributinrr the shade of sadness wliioli had overcast his face to recollections of his dead brother, endeavoured to remove the etlect her words had produced by changing the supject. " Have you written unich of your comedy this week P" she asked. " I have finished the first act. Last night I saw Mr. Kemble, and he promises to read what I have done, and give me his opinion, if I take it to him next week." " Oh, that is famous news. You must have worked very hard." "I found it easier to write thinking of all vou said last Sunday. You have given me hope and courage. "'Tis little enou;,"-!! I can do to help you, Gerard. I am not clever, and 'tis not witli cleverness I would lielpyou, fori would have the glory of succeeding to be due to you alone. But all that J can do to make your task less difficult, your lifeless burdensome, that T will do with all my heart." 8he paused, they were both silent for a time, then she continued : " I have ))een trying to think in these last few moments how I can be of service to you, but I can find no means of gratifying mv wish. T am like a poor bankrupt who sees distress all around him, and has no means of giving relief. What cati 1 do ? " Gerard's arm trembled beneath her hand as he said in a low voice : " Suffer me to hope." " For success, Gerard ? why that is assured. I am certain that your comedy will be well accepted." " I have built hopes far higher than the mere triumph of my brain. Knowing what I have been, what I am, I dare scarcely tell myself all that my soul desires." iirriii},'** mng as f it Imd !. Vou church,' myself, ;e used, brother, [uced by kP" she Ketnble, ' e me hia ary hurd." said last I am not ir I would But all life leas le paused, " 1 have can be of my wish. hira,and in a low certain pph of my scarcely IN To?T>; ri/r::. 2 '7 " Whisper but! a word, and I will ^ues.s the rest. Why should you conceal anything from aie ' is thuie unyoue living deuier to me than you ? " "If you knew how solitary my life has been, how iitU'iJy alone and nncared for I have stood anionj^'-st my fellow-creature.s, y u would understand the emotion that your mere friendship produces, and readily perceive what hope my exalted inuiginM- tion conceives," Lady lietty looked at the agitated man beside her in per- plexity a moment, and then : " Is it ray affection you hope for ? " slie asked. " It is indeed.'' • " Why, Gerai-d, you have it. Are you not my brother as well as his ? How doubtful you men are. Tom, niy husband, doubtful of my love, and y(ni, my brother, of my atTec^tion. Ki.ss me, Gerard — kiss my lips, and duubt no more that I am in truth your sister." Gerard bent and touched her willing lips.ard she looked at him afterwards with wide eyes, her cheeks pale with anxiety for his peace, and tii^ding him still troubled, she din he himself was besotted and drowsy, he swept bottles and glasses off the table, sprawled out his arms, and laid his leaden head upon them moaning and grunting until his drunkenness had passed off and he could sit up to drink again. They never went to bed, never changed their linen, never touched water, but sat there, drinking and sleeping, occasionally eating, perpetually smoking, until the floor was strewn with broken bottles and gnawed bones, and the great room stank with the filthy tobacco, and the reek of that foul company. One day Barnabas awaking from a long sleep, more sober ♦ban usual, looked round upon the litter of broken bottles and his sleeping comrades, and after five minutes cogitation, roared out for Slink. " How many bottles are there in the cellar ? " he asked, when Slink appeared at the door. " About a score, your honour." " What ! " shouted Barnabas. Slink repeoted his answer, keeping on the alert to dodge the bottle which Barnabas generally hurled when displeased. " Come here, and help me up. I'll go and see for myself." He hobbled down to the cellar with much difficulty and profuse blasphemy, and ascertained that Slink had told him nothing but the truth. Then swearing at his friends, at him- self for his insane liberality, he locked the cellar-door, and returned to his customary seat with the key in his pocket. From V 2'0 LiErii:xA: T pa'inaiu.^. ■1^ I that moment be did not part with it except when he wanted a bottle for his own consumption. Wlien hiis fellows awoke and called for refreshment, Knrnabas bade Slink bring a can of water, and bluntly told them that they would get no other kin 1 of liquor at his expense in future, T,.e moment that this new I'ejjiilation was founcl to be no prac- li( al joke hut a serious fact, the company withdrew to the other end of the table and held a council, while Barnabas smoked and looked at them in sullen indifference. At the end of a brief confeierce, the lawyer came for\\ uni as spokesman and addressed IJiunuhas. '' Vour ''ricrids have got laisincss to do. Tliey wish to be paid tor their services and to go to their lionies," said he. " Well, pay them, and let them go," re]died Burn&has, with an oath. , , > " I have no miyiey." " You said the steward had the collecting of the rents." *' lie refuses to ri:T. n if yon offer a sii'cfl'' bird for sale, or rcnmve but ore iirficb' from the liouse, nr cut so iiiiich iis a Mingle l)niTifli from one of the trees, I'm io lalce the lawyer's ])apt'rs Lefoie tlie nearest inafri.«itrate and dimund his protection of Mr. Thomas's pro- perty." " The property's mine now my brother is dead." " Ah ! you'll iiave to prove that." Barnabas turned to his lawyer, who appeared to be not at ali sui'prised at what he heard. " Here, what's to be done ? " he asked. The lawyer shrugfied his shoulders. "Do you want to know anything more of me ?" asked the steward. " Get out, curse you ! " shouted Barnabfis. II''mphrey Blake left the room. " You said I could take posses.sion," said Barnabas. " You have," replied his counsellor. " But how am I to defeat this cursed Doctor Blandly ? " "Find the body of your brother, and you can laugh at him." " By George, I will. Set a score of fellows to drag the river from end to end." '* Give I-..; the money to pay them." " I haven't a guinea. Raise money for me — I'll sign any paper you like — you shall make your own terms for payment when i get the money." " It is impossible to raise money until your title is estab- lished." " You s lid you could make a case for the Court of Chancery." " So I can, but not without money. You owe me a long bill now." " But I'll pay you what you ask when I get ray title — why don't that satisfy you ? " *' Because I doiiH believe you ever will get your title." Amidst the storm of oaths and imprecations that followed this announcement, the lawyer and his associates withdrew, merely putting in their pockets such articles of value as they could conceal from the vigilant eyes of the steward, and one by one sneaked away from the Hall and its penniless tenant, with no intention of returning. The only immediate regret Barnabas felt in their departure was, that it had not taken place before. They had d-">k best part of his wine, and what should he do when he had hnished the remainder ? The question was fraught with such gloomy forebodings that he despatched it from his thoughts, determin- ng to face the evil wnen it came— as often before he had •SP 252 LIi:('TEXANT lUnXA BAS. 1:1 m i , 1 •^■i: 1 1 ■ 1 ■ • ■ , Uii ail sliirkt'(l tlie reflt'C-tion ilnit he would be liaiig'ed at some subse- quent dute. It was when night came, and the candles failed to light up the furthtw corner of the large room, tliat he missed his conipanions. The dim corners had a fascination for his eyes, which grew with the terrible pictures that came before his heated and disordered imagination. He pictured Toai in tlie likeness of a corpse he had once seen drawn from a pond after long lying there, and fancied him stepping in that hideous mortality from out the gloom. " Light all the candles ! " he said to Slink, " There be but a dozen left, master, and they are nigh down to the sockets," said Slink, as he moved to obey the command. He asked himself what night would be with neither com- panions, nor wine, nor light. The reflection was productive o) a fresh command; "Fetch me another bottle, and theii blow out every candln but one." As the lights one after another were blown out he drank th* bottle, his eyes wandering from corner to corner; when only one was left he shut his eyes and tried to sleep. The next day he sent Slink out to sell his horse. Slink obeyed w^ith a sorry heart, for the h(n>e had been his comfon through th<:^ miserable months, and hud inipi'oved in appearanc ■ under his careful grooming, since the first unlucky day it was given to him. He had \wx the spirit to higgle over tiie sale. and accepting the first offer that was made for the beast, h;- brought his uia.ster forty shilliiiys, and had a bottle fluncf n his head for his pains. The money was spei.t in candles ami strong ale. Once more at night-time he forced Slink to play at picquei. but with notiiing to gain and no inducement to client, tlie phiy had so little IidM upon his mind, that his senses were for ever WiUiilering to catch strange noi.ses or the fantastic .sliadows thrown by a guttering candle. His only recourse was to 8tU]iefy liit lirain with tiibaccfs aiid beer. ()ne morning he limped up t!ie siaircase and along the grea' corridor to examnie the ciianibers. They were all large, but one seenie 1 less awfid than the rest, and he decided upon going th'-re at night, lliiiiKing iv, slee]> .sounder in a bed than cramped over a table, Ihit when the light faded, he dared not go awa\ from the banqueting-hail — that at least he knew ; its nouks anl hollows were familiar to him. The corridor was mysterious even in the light which cam-' through the coloured oi'iel window at the end, it would be awful at night. And the chamber -might it not have a secrei ; Tin: :.i:::':tin.; ok old KijriND.s. 'zr* luor; ini^lit he not Hn I som'^thiiifr lyinor in ilu* b 'li \\\u-n lie 'ipened it; the;*e reflections passed through his muddled, i'iife(!l>led, ffuilty mind, and kept him to the iarf^er room. There was uo one in the great house but himself !)nd Slink. Slink vas indispensable, lie slint the game, ('ook^'J it, ate with him, submitted to his bullying, shpt in the .same room lying on the sofa, in tluit dark corner which Uarnabas feared most, and waited on him with the docility and patience of a born .servant, lint he added not a little to his nightly terrors. When he detected hi.s master pausing to listen, in the act of raising a glass to his lips, he sliowed the liveliest .symptoms of oread, ejaculating, " Oh, Lord ! " and " merciful p -.wer-s defend us ! " and fell a ch iltering with his teeth as though in an ague ; if Barnalas dropped his pipf, nnd fixed his t-yes upon the obscurity. Slink would drop on hij kuies, imploring the angel.'* to '..ave mercy upon him. "What are you afeard of?" Fiarnabas asked one night. '' You've fastened the shutiers and Itarred all the door.s, havtsn't vou 9" crrea' "All tlie doors I knows on, master; but wliat does that signify! The pi 'ce is like a rabl)it warren: there's a do/en passages only known to the rightful owners; a dozen doors as open secret-likf into the west wing. You can smell the mouldering walls and the rotten floors when you pass by the big .staircase, for all its bein' shut off this hund'ed years, and clo.sed with boards and green baize that the great, long-legged spiders and wood-louses crawl over. AVhat's doors to ghost e.>^ y " " Ghostp ! What are you talking about ? D'ye think 1 take heed of such rubbish ? " "It may be rubbish, but I've heard as murdered men mn.st walk till they're laid with bell and candle, and whose to lay Master Tom, when his body's Oh, good Lord; what are you looking at, nuister ? " " Hold vour cursed tongu>;, and go sit over vonder where the curium bangs. h cam«' kMild lie la secrt-i CHAPTER Lll. THF MKKTIXO OF OJA) VUIDSDS. It was a wretched existence that Slink Id even in the V>road light of day, wluMi Barnabas himself was free from superstitious apprehensions. Ilumphrey Blake, having sifted all the evidence he cfHild J : FTTPP •2'A mj:l'ti:.\avt darxaiu;^. m '"iillect, liae pedlars sincerity were forgotten, and heurintr the unctuous voice, he could only remember the 8onot, Esquoire ? " Slink nodded again. '* Well, my boy, ye shall jist take me up to the Hall the way ye've come, for I'm not proua, and I've a moighty pradelection against passing the lodge, which is the raison I've been resting myself on this sod for the last hour, takun a philosophicle look at things. Putt your lips, to commence wid, at the bottle, darlint ; you know the tlavor of it, ye divd ye deu ! Putt the bird in your pockut, 'tis an illigant bird, to be sure, and a murtherin' sin to lave it behint." Slink pocketed the bird, and with a glance down the road to be sure that Master Tilake was not in sight, assisted the old pedlar in climbing up the bank and entering the wood. When these difficulties were overcome, the garrulous Barney recnra- nienced talking, leaning affectionately upon the arm of his young friend. " I've been a prayun to the blessed saints for ye, darlint, and I hope to goodness the master tr' '^s ye koindly." " That's all right," said Slink. " Beca'se 'tis a jewel in his crown to have a faithful sarvint, and there's few in the warld tliat's the loikes of you.divil a wan ! Ye desarve to be trated handsome, and ye shall be, for oim goun to stay a bit wid the master, and I'll spalce a good word in your favor, besides cntertainin' ye wid all the beauti- ful songs and stories in my rickollection, wid a taste of the bottle in betwix<^ and betwane." Slink's fnr e expanded in the broadest of grins. " Yo shall take another taste of the same, immagiat. LIEM HNANT BA RNAF.A8. He stopped, drew out tlw stone boMle from his pack, and having iKiininistered the dose aud r>'.-. 1 his inaich, he said, in a tone more wheedling and soft than ever: " 'Tis the l)les8ed saints as guided ye to me this mornun in answer to itiy prayers, for I've been a dyun to see you a long toime, and have an agraible convirsation wid ye. And now ye shall tell me all what's been a happenin' to ye siiioe I bade ye good-bye at the * Lone Crow.' " He paused to give Slink an opportunity of acting upon his .-iiggestion, but tinding him disinclined to break silence he continued : " I've been making inquoiries in the town, ami the inn be- yond the hill, and they tell me tfiat Misther Thomas Talljot lias been croally murthered, but I can't belave it ; is it tlirue now?" .Slink nodded. "Why wasn't I horned a lawyer?" Barney asked himself, and then with a smile he said : " .So you know he was mur- thered. Now can you tell me in sacret and conHdance who murthered 'um ? " " No, I can't," said Slink, stoutly. " Well, tliat bothers me complately, for they tells me it was the master as murthered 'uni, and seein' you fellows 'um liiika his own blessed shadder, 'tis impnssable he could have done it and you not know. So I say, darlint, that y'are mistuk. Master Thomas was not murthered." " Yes he was." " But I say he was nut : and so how can ye say he wasP" " Because he wris shot and '' Slink stopped suddenly. " And buried dacent in the river. Thrue for you, rny °w»ite friend ; but how d'ye know he was shot, seein' his body was niver brought to light ? " Slink bent his brows in silence. "I'd a been a raal judge, and done nothun but putt on the black cap from mornun' till night, if Providence had edicated me to the laigal profission," tliouglit the pedlar. "Look here, sir," said Slink, "you'll '^ee the master directly, and he can tell you all you want to know, I daresay. Let's talk about something else." The amiable pedlar was so well pleased with himself and Slink that he made no objection to this proposal, but entered at once upon the narration of several anecdotes, which made the road to the Hall too short to his admiring companion. Barnabas was no less pleased thati Slink had been to see the pedlar. He had need of a lively companion, and hoped THE MEETING OF OM) TKICNDS. 257 was ilf and entered made to see hoped thfit his fntlu'v'.-^ superior cunninfif woiilil fMiaMe Irm in a phort tinif tf> be itKh'peiiilt'nt of lussistiinre. He cuiici'iilfnl lii.s fceliii^,.-, liuwt'xer, lis well as Ite CDuhl, uih! t^iily irsponileil to ( )'i 'I'ewf's ii.ittevy in»l pt'ote^tutioTis of "on(l\iii;i ullknon" with a grunt ov M nod. Notliiiijr 'liinnltd l>y (liis cold r-ceplioii, ilie iw-Jliir I'xnitd liinM'lf to iininsp iiis noii. imd t'tt linii into a ^oi d temper, uiid .<(> tar Micee'.eii in rai.-iii^' i.in) Irom his riorhiti pros; rat ion, tliat he jiav/ the candle.s lit without a .'■Imdder. anil hade Shnk ^-•et out of the room directly after, partly becau.-e he could do without him, but chiefly l)e(.'ai:>e Slicli pvitleullv enjoyed the pedlar's conversation, untl wi.-l.rt! to 1;:^ . iianit>hed from vi.e room, Siiuk contented hims.df with listeniijo: at the kcy-hnlf to ihe peillid's scngf and sioricr.. tniiil clappina- his eye to tiie !i. v-hol'. al'tt-r a minute's silence, lie perceivecf him walkiiiii towards the door, when he ret ire. I with alacrity, and took refuge in a deep o^lhra.'^ule hy t! e great j^tairs. From this hiding-place he saw tlie door open, and tlie pfilhir come out and .stand in a listening attitude for a nioment or two, then return to the room, closing the door after him. It was some time before he dnred return to the door, but at leTigth the nii.sery of sitting nlone in the dark and silence while good things were being said in the adjacent room overcame his tears of discovery, and he cautiously approached the convenient key-hole, and bent his ear to listen. "'Tis njoighty hard, and so it is, to get the hold truth out of ye, Barney, my darlint," the pedlar was saying. "It does ye c'ydit, and I'm proud on ye. If you was as simple as your sarvint, Slink, Id turn ye inside out like a pair o' leather breeches in half a minit. If ye knowed how I've been a prayun to the holy sauits, and sthrugglin' and sthrix In' to learn the blessed truth, to lielp ye in your misfortunes, ye'd be more agraihle and comphiisaiut. Isn't it all for your own good, my blessed Barney, that I'd have you revale the iioly saerets of vour bussom to me ? Sure, I larned more from that swate iniioeint lamb, Mr. Slink, in two minutes than ye've con- descended to tell me in half-an-hour." ** What has he told you — blabbini>- hound!" " Nothini';- at all but to your honour. He only towld me how you s..jt um and t browed his body in the war her." " It's a lie." " To be sure T made a mistake. 'Twas you shot 'im, and the lad that throwed um into the river." " I'll stop the fool's tongue ; I'll have his life to-morrow." 17 I:.-- •r.3 r.i" A\T ]]:/i\\'\v<. Voii .^liull Imvo ii!.> lift' - '' I'liiiDcy, ir.y '1 i/liii!, y ivi'. v'l^ ii, Itiit nut lo-iuorrjw, my b('ave buy.' " Wliat do you mean ! " " Listen to nu!, swuitcst. Ye want hiilonoe of Miisllirr Tom's death in ordor that ye may come into your holy rights and trt'w ii heritince, don't ye?" "NW'll-^" "Su]i]v)sun to-nio'TOw niornun, soon as the glorious sun h a-KpreadtiM a l)liish of hfiuity over the duirmuii face o" nature, I go to the uaire8t magistrate an I says, ' Yer lionour, there's a secret on my nioind that I nnidl re vale or my conscience will (Iroivc ine to di.-piration. I knov.' wlio 'twas that murthered and did for tliat j;enllemnn of qualitv, Mr. Thomas 'I'albot ? ' " "Will yon helray me?" " Not a It'll o!' it. darlint. Pntt down the bottle when you've took a drink. This is liow the whole, business wull l)e trans- actcee a man on luirsehack coiinni' towards me, i.Mid tahin.r liiin to 1 e no belter tli.-Mi a high^ ayniiin. 1 jumped t 'oilier side th." hedL'"e. and laid tin re wid my p;ick in nn.rtid ' ripi^iatifm and ahnoitjhty fear, till all of a siiddint I heard a |iistol-shot and a scrame, and the nixt ivoment I seei)ii'iir nn' v.'.l I In; coni'.ige of a lion I crept along lie- Idiit the h:^d^e so as i couldn't be s^^en till I come in .-iyht of a !.!ackgn;uNl as was dr,i'.rgun' a gintlen)an into the cowdd water, r.y the lirht of the bl,'ss>'d moon '" " Tin le wasn't a moon." " TlniiKye for the hint, my clmrMier. ' IJy the loiglit of the Nwate stai'S i s 'e the c.junltuiauce of the gintleman and the face of the blacivguard perfectly ciair. The face of the l)lackguaid I sliall niver forget to my dyiin day. Jt teriified me to sieh a ile;;ree that I took to my heels to save myself.' ^Yhan I've told the mngistrales this I shall w^iiie the prespiration olT my l)iv)W, and I shall continy: * Well, ^or, goun wid my pack to TiiUtof Hall to see if I coidd sell the gentry a paper of pins, or a small-i'oiiib. who should I foiiid there, in the livery of a sarvant, but the very Idackjiiaid I see a nnirtherin the gintle- !;i:in by the river, and its lii:;! I'd iK-r.e yon tidie into custody.' \\ iuit do yon think (•' that, i'aviiey darlint r" " What am T to s:iy. for th 'n'II co'-.e on siioiiin;-' nie. ydagne lake 'em.'' "^'othun at all. darlint, Diviia woi-d. Ve'll just takeyonr fsi 1 ;':..;;-;t. 1>.V.) lift- - riglil- pun IS u'.ituro, liiMv's a ice will .rtliert'il Ibot ? ' " n you'vi' le trans- honour, . of the saints in avdi* me, I ]unipe(>. plasne ittke vour o.r.h that vou doti't i\ii(> v iiothiMi nlt-int ut. ''iit flint sun eii'>ii;;'ii ve ;::ivi' ;->l.ii.v i.i\ • ii .IIIO In ■- .>\\ a. >';u'aii , him 111' tlidn'i coiue Imeii lo yt' till the riioi-nun, wid a cock-iiud- I'U'I 8torv of {>vtfu ' drunii <>\t r-nijlit ; ; n.i .sinc' i Iieii, yell atid, tl. :anMn'it lias lutvi Pl aviin 'V like water, m'tt'in Ironk. rnd ilirtiui wid Hie wenches. ' n "And then Sill v will telMiis Nlory. i low thnii ■' " " Let mil. W till till I ;^et in the wiliie>s-liox. f knowlir.w toman. ^^ uiii. I'll leirity win wid my e\e. I'll make the vuriniiu ."^wear lilack".-* w!'ite, and tliienihle and .srutier and make .such a fool ol a liar of liiiii.^elf ih.it tiie intiili /■•!it jury will be Ijoaiid to ha \'j nm. I'll j^'^t tlu' C'>ni]di!iH'ti!s and fiatttrv of the iud^^e and all the illi;;a:it luwvers ior lueaLilit.. tru.^t me. " And what srood will all this do nn y " " V/liat good, dye iix .' Fai\, and 'lis not niv o'.vm s m tlrii will ax the qiiei-tion twoic«'. Sure, wh.an iIk'\ \e luu u'd Slink for tniirtherin' your hrothei', tlwy can't dispute tioi. tlit'i;,u!- thered nnin's dead ; and then what's to bar yo;ii' iaheiiia;ice i" And we will Inui'.'- un as sure as jsialice.'' Slink waited to In-ar no niDre. About ten o'clock l).n 'labas roiired for hii^i — havinir emptied the great pot of ale. lie roared a pecond time, and there wa> no answer. Then the pedlar went to the door, and called out in \\'\-^ blandest tones : " Toby, darlint, whoy don't ye come when yer master calls ;-■ Where are you, swaitest ?" But his seductive a])])eal failed to elicit respon.se from Slink, and for a very irood r»ason: he was ten miles from Sevenuaks on his road to Loudon. ' ;' , CHAPTER LIIL . : -: PLIGHT AND PUlJ.sriT. Slink made his way to London through Ightbam, Wroth im and Gravesend, feeling him.self safer on the road he knew. 1 |r had not a far hing in his pocket, and in the morning hunger became unendurable. A .stable-keeper gave him sixpence and as nmch as he wanted to eat and drink for a day's work in his stable. At night he conlinned his journey, but the rain falling heavily compelled him to take refuge in a burn, where he slept until the morning. 17—2 L>6() f ,1 KUT i:n* axt n a u\a ius. I About iniililuy Saturday be urrived at Ediuonton, und run^'' tbe bell at lK>cior JJlandly's. Old Kute oame to tbe gate, and bade bim call in tbe evening-; ber niustiu" and Jerry Lad gone a-tisbing. She could not say wbere tbey were, and advised bim to go wait in tbe " Bell.'' This was capital advice to a man witb money, but Slink bad spent bis sixpence on tbe road, and was once mo' ■■. bungry and penniless. He dared not sit on tbe settle outside tue inn, for be doubted not but that tbe pedlar bad sworn information against bim, and that all tbe country was in pursuit of him. He turned up the little lane beside tbe Doctor's garden, and lay in a meadow until tbe sun went down, then be carefuUv approached tbe main road, and again rang at the Doctor's bell, "Tbis time Jerry came in response. ** Master's dining, but you can come in. If your busint'S^ ben't very important, you had better wait till he's {inished." "Oh, my business ben't important. It's only a mafrer of life and death, and as I've waited since the niorning, there's no reason why I should'nt wait another hour or so — albeit I've had nothing betwixt my teeth sinco ten o'clock." "Ob, you're one of those 'tis-but-tisn't, might-be-but-can't, gentry, I see. You'd better follow me, case I get blamed for your fault." Slink followed Jerry, and having duly scraped his feet, and rubbed them well, heels and side, on a mat, be took off his bat, smoothed down his hair, and entered the dining-room when Jerry was satisfied with his pre.sentability. "Well, my man; what have you got to say to me?" the Doctor asked, witb bis mouth full. Slink twisted his bat round, and glanced from tbe Doctor to Jerry, and back again to tbe Doctor without replying. " Don't you bear what's said to you P " a.sked Jerry. " Yes, Sir ; but if you plea.se, I don't want to speak before you. Sir." The Doctor laughed heartily. " We'll you won't mind bis knowing where you come from, I dai'esay, ' said he. " Sevenoaks, your honour." " Jerry, take that young fellow down to the kitchen, and give him a mug of ale and a thumb-piece ; he hasn't anything in bis stomach, I know by tbe sound of bis voice, And don't worry bim, do you hear, Jerry ? When you're a bit refreshed, return to me here, my lad." Slink obeyed with alacrity, and reappeared in the dining-room eurprisingly i^oon, considering the quantity of ale and bread and Fi.r'^nT ASM) pnistTir. .v^ _V,I and ised had and j.for at ion it. of 1, and ?fallv ? bell, isinoS'S id." ;':er of re's no $it rv«' t-oan'i , ned for (et, and his hat, 1 when " the )ctor to before ind his en, and ly thing id don't freshed, ig-rootn iad and cluvpe he luul (•(hisumu' i in tli« iiit»»rvHl; but lie Inid n wide mouth and u hirg'** throat, and \n» excellent digfstivtf orgai;s were equal to unv tiifk iinp<):<«'iglu'd. "Ha! ha! The same storv everywhere," the J)oct<>r said half to himself. " "NVell, well ; and wh has she sent you to me 9 " " Because she said you wtmld stand l)y nie if I toll you rlie whole truth, and wouldn't let them hauy me."' " Great Heavens !-^hang you ! — what for 'f " "For murdering Master lorn." Doctor Blandly raised himself in 'lis chair, and loo!<((l at Slink in blank astonishment for a minute, then said in an altered tone : " If this deed is yours alone, ten me nothing. 1 am loth to be instrumental to the death even of a criuiinal. unless it is absolutely my duty. If then you killed tliis poor gentleman of your own will and purposo,say not u word to me, but ^o out by that door while 1 close my eyes. Ihit if--a8 by your appearance it seems to me more likely— you have been hut the tool in the haiids of a more villainous man. tell me what is on your mind, and I will do what I may to befriend \ou." " God bless vour honour! the guilt is not on my head. Let me tell you ju.^ I wiiat happenel the night .ifore last as I llfiemd at the door in Talbot Hall."' And then Slink related t!ie c.iu- versation he had overheard between Barnabas and his fniher: in conclusion he said '' When I lu^iinl tlieir m hi nie to brino- m.. u) the gallows, then I made up my mind to run aw ay ir.lotlie \vo(i(:,> and hide myself there; but I couldn't go witliont Hrst sayin;.' good-bye to my sweetheart, and beggiiiir her to dislielieve tie wicked things they said a-iainst me, and it was sheas ha cate, the eye and wrinkled forehead, and grey hair oi ikirney U'Crew©. if r! 'm III 262 l.ii:UTKNANT :;.\::MABAM. *' My Ood ! " he cried, •• 'tis the pedlar ! Hide me, Doctor— Ijide me ! " " One word — is his story true P — did you kill Mr, Talbot P" " No ; I swear lo heaven I didn't." "Then all the pedlars in the world slian't touch you. Go upstairs, and in the tirst room \ou come to, lock the door, and crawl under the bed if you like. Jerry, bring the man at the gate in here if he wants to see me, and say not a word more than is necessary to him on the way." Slink followed the doctor's advice to the letter, while Jerry admitted the pedlar and conducted him into Doctor Blandly s presence without returning a single word to bis bland inquiries und persuasive addresse.s. " Tis Docthur Blandly I have the honour of sulutin'," said the pedlar. " That's ray name. Voti can leave the room, Jerry. Return when I ring the bell." "'Tis a jewel of a .servint y'have, Doctor J'>liindly — a .swate, civil spoken old man, as ever drawed the bW^cl brenth of loife, with a dacent habit of holdiu' his ton;r(;e, whicli L'iives- not bun to find fault wid in his speech." "And who may you be, Sir 'f " " The question's a very proper one, and does you credit, Docthor. and I'll answer ye widout any risarvation. I'm Mr. Bamabao O'Crewe." " Barnabas O'Crewe — the father of the man who calls himself Theophilus Talbot ? " " That's as hereafther may be ; at present you may take it that I'm his perticlar friend. In the lir.Mt plaoe, Doctor, y'are doubtless aware that the murthererof Mr. "ralbot is discivered and brought to loight." " Who is the murderer?" " Toby Slink by name — the varmint as stole Mr. Thomas's horse, shot his doj,'', and finilly slaughtered the young gintle- man and throwd him into the cowld river. I aee 'um do it wid my own eyes." " Have you informed the magistrates ? " " I have. I've took my Bible oath on it ; and the b'y's as good as lianged. Albeit, bp's given us the slip — bad luck to um, and can't be found nowheres. However, oi'll foind um, lave me alone for that, I'll onairth um loike a fish from tlie blessed ocean. Now, Docthor, we'll preshume that he's hanged, and drawed and quartliered, and all complete, amen ! and there's no fuvder obstacle to Thaophilus Talbot coming into possession of the funds y'are so kindly taken care of for um." FM'i::r and !'u:;siit. 2c:] i'8 id " Not a fnrtliing'. i will throw tlu' e.>»fate intn (Minncery." " I bftg to (lifTHr wid y»*, iJoctor, on a |>'int of law. If tlio b'y 's hung' for huvin' murthered Mr. Thoiuiis, how will y« proove that the printleman is nloive P " "You're a f'unniTijr rascal I " crit'd Doctor Hlandly, striking the table with his IJMt. "Thank you koindly for the compliniint. I trnst I'm a bit Oliver in the law. Now Thaophilus has pronmsfd tlnit I sliall live like a prince when he come into his fortun he's wnllin to make splendid terras wid me to howld my tongue and live in his company." •' Then why don't you hold your tonjfiie ? " " Becase I set in) value on all these riches, for two or three reasons. In the fust place, 1 don't think I slmuM get Vm ; in the second, I want money at oncet to hunt up that varmint Slink, lr>r the public oUicers won't do their duty wi(h)iit, bud luck to 'em ; and in the third place, I don't hanker after livun in the society of Tliaophilus — he's conthraded an on])leasant habut of wakun up in the middle o' the noight and sceun ghoates that nuikes my blood run cold and oncomiortable." " Well, well— come to the point." " Bedad I'm comnn to it straght. Docther dear, y' have a koindo' spite against Thnophilus." " I have the same feeling toward other villains." " Quoite roight for yon, l)octher. T know tliat ye'd innch rather see .Mr. (ieranl in Talbot Hall tluin hishnli'-brotlier — for I'll tell you candid and thrue, Doctor, there being no witnesst s present, that Mr. Gerard is no son of mine. And new widout no more bating about the busli, if you'll promuse me faithful to give me a tlirifle^ — say two or three hundred pounds n year for the whole of my life till I die — I'll proove that Mr Thnophilus is an imposter.'* " You will say that of your own son h " "To be sure will T. For I don't liky the principals of uin. Tliai. gettin' up o' nights ain't natral and it ain't pleasant, and he'd chate his own father if he had the chance, bad luck to um, I'll swear he was three months old before ever he was registered, and that Admiral Talbot, Heaven rest his sowl — was no more the b'y's father than you are." With knitted brows Doctor Blandly looked at Barney O'Crewe in silence whilst he considered his proposal. Had he his own inclinations alone to follow, he would have rung the bell for Jerry to show the old vagabond the gai den-gate at once, but Gerard was to be thouglit of, and it was fcjr Gerard to decide whether the evidence of a rascal should be bought and paid for. 2G4 I JE i; T E XA N T BA R N A ! ; A S. He felt that the advantages, were too great to be reliTirpiished hastily for a scruple which, after all, was one of delicacy rather than conscience, "Well, Docther dear, and what do you think of ut ? " ** What 1 think of it is of small importance. How Mr. Gerard Tallxjt takes your offer remains to be seen. I shall set the facts before him to-morrow, and on Monday, if you call here at ten <»V'lock, you shall know whetlier he accepts or rejects your proposal." The Doctor rang th > hell. Jerry answered immediately, and his presence stopped I'arney O'Crewe from saying anythiiig further upon a mclter wliich he had every rea«ou to keep secret. He bad a mortal aversion to witnesses. CHAPTER LIV. QUICK AND DEAD. hi;. ^^11 TrrE pedlar had parted from his son early on Friday mnrnins- witli the avowed intention of swearintj' information nsfainst Tobv Slink witn the nearest magistrate, and returning to his son " immaidjitly." *' W'U you come wid me, Barnev, darlint ? " he asked. " 'Tisn't likely," replied I'.arnabas. "Maybe y'are wise, though y'are not sociable, the saints love ye. Kape ye'r f-pn-its up, me cluirmer ; I'll be buck wid ye in the twiuKlin' of an oye." As a matter of fact the old man nm-er went near tlie magit;- trate, having resol\(Ml in tlie course of the nigiit to take that somewhat hazard away from Talbot Hall, with his face towards London and his pack on bis back. Barnabas drank, smoke and dozed until mid-day : then feeling' hungry he limped away to the kilchen to get the remains of the hare they hri been eating for breakfast, and whicli his father had cleared away, saying he would nuike the place look a bit " dacent " in case the magistrates came to question liar- nabas. There was not a scrap of food in the kitclien, and the pack which the pedlar had likewise removed for "dacency" was not there either. Barnabas extended his search from place to QriOJC AND DKAD. 2Gr) atUer rerard 3 facts at ten J vouv ythinn: secret . tinrninc ii*t Toby his son iiits love id ye in lo map"is- Inke that isfactory iworth a Inge you le said to jiot Hall, In feeling' luiins of [liich his lace look lion Bar- land the lf.y " was 1 place to place until liis patieiic-^ was exhausted, then he took to nniash- in;>' everything breakable ihat came in his way, until liis fury at finding hin^self cheated and robljed was abated; after tliat he sat down ana tried to form a plan of reveiig^^ Ilia father had hinted at the " Lone Crow " of comproniisinnf with Doctor I)lnndly, and Barnabas had no doubt that he had gone to sell him. What could he do to frustrate the plans of the subtle old man? Nothing. He felt himself utterly helple>-'S. Not a soul stood by him ; even Slink had abandoned him. His pockets were again empty — for his father, thougli ignoi-ant of the game of piquet, had shown liimself an adept at clieating and fleeced him of the small residuum remaining from the forty sliillings brought him bv the sale of Slink's horse. And he was hungry — Villainously hungry. The very fact of Jiot bei)ig able to get anything to eat increased iiis appetite. Drinking and smoking onlv luMghtened his inuiginary necessity for food. At length, flinging the old jug ar the wall, he rose up from his seat resolved to sell his mare. Prudenc" told him that l)efore long he might have need of her on the road : " Curse the future," he cried, in reply. He limped to the stable, with his hat wrong side forward over his eyes, and his stick in his hand. The mare had been neg- lected sinci- Slink gave her a parting feed, and whiimied as he flung the doors back. *' Get over," he growled, hitting her on the flank savagely ; the mare obeyed, whisking her tail and showing the white of her eyes. He determined to leave the saddle for another day, and havitig untied the halter from the ring on the manner, he gave the rope a jerk to turn the mare. She was unused to sucli neglect and rougli treatment in the stable, and turned with so little care as to bane- Barnabas rudely against the side of the stable. Exasperated ))y tiiis addition to tlie morning'.'! wrongs, he lifted his sti'A', ^...'id clenching his teeth, brought it down with all his force upon lier back. A kick, a bound, and a scuffle, and the mare wrenched the haltiir out of her master's hand, bolted into the yard, and through the open gate into the wide and open park. She was a speck in the distance when Barnabas next caught sight of her. " The Devil's against me," he said, throwing himself upon the grass. He would have taken the saddl ■ in the town to sell, but for the superstitious belief that the ill-luck of tl.f^ day, Friday, would attend him there, and that the saddler, as well as the devil, would be against i»im. The rain began to fall, but he lay there in dogged indifference until he was wet through, then I IMI id ' 5l •2g; uiu*T;:>:axt bat^nabas. sluMM-iiig witli cdlii liH filuitllH(l into tilt' Hull, and sat down l)t>side the beer Iiarrel, where he drank and smoked nntil about four o'clock. The ale did not make him drunk— it did not even stupefy him, it 8iiTiply depressed him and made his head aclie. lie was so completely wretched that had there been a hani he was by the terrace steps. The terrors of solitude in the home of the man he had murdered were rilready takir.g hold of his imagiiuition. He dreaded the awful silence, broken at long intervals by the strange slight sounds which teem inseparable from an old house, and which have no explanation. He dreaded the snatches of sleep that would overpower his sense? for awhile, and end with the sudden awakening from a dream 80 hideous as to defy passive endurance. He dreaded being aroused from forgethilness by the sputtering of a candle, to find shadows leaping from the floor to the ceiling in the flickering light of a fallen wick. He paused on the first step to ask liimself if it were not wiser to sleep in the empty stal le, and lln-n he raised his eyes to the house furtively, ;md for the first time. There was a liglit there. Not in the banqueting ( iiinber, but in the room on the other side of the entrance. The lantern rattled as it hung on his quivering finger. A\ hat did the light .sigiiii'y P Had his father and Slink combined, and laid evideu'je against him, and were the oiliccis of justice come to take him away to gaol ? That was the least of his fears; the more terrible were indefinable-- a vague, awful apprehension of the imknown conjured up a thousand ghostly figures, grotejique and horrible, lint the light was real; it glowed steadily. He could ciunit the brick.s in the ea.sement. There was nothing supernatural in the appearanie: no figures such as danced before his eyes in the delirium of fear kjoked out at him, grinning with flesliless chops, beckoning with rotten fingers! And if the dead were not feasting in tb'it house what had he to fearl-* Not the living. Justice would have followed him to the ale-house and tuipped ' 'ni there, not waited with unco ered light in the Hall for him lo run like a fool into an nnbaited trap. *' 'Tis the pedlar retttrned," he said to himself, witli an efV'ort to convhicc himself on the point. And why siiould it not be ':' Might he not have been detained by the magistrates ? That Tras most probable. Yet it was with treniMing steps he ascended to the terrace. He paused to listen ; not a sound reached his straining ear. The sot had fallen asleep, he con- cluded, still he dared not lay his hand upon the door. He stole toAvards the windows; they were too high from the ground for him to see into the lower part of the room. He went back to the door, and raised his hand as if to turn the handle, then dropped it like a thing of lead by hi. side. He looked around him. Within the ratiius of light cast by the candle in his lie; i'KNANT P.AUN.vnAs. la?itprn he saw the hl.ick moss itpoii tli>' prrov stonf of th > terrace, and the raia tlropping vertically; l)eyoiid— iiothiii ■. Should he call the pedlar? His throat wais loo dry, and liis tongue had lout its ofiict!. He must do something — enter th- liouse or fly. Fly -wliitlier could he fly ? If the dead were in the house, would it let him sleep or rest He pursed his lips, whistled low, and listened. He fnticied he heard a voice. It gave him courage, for he had caught tlie pedlar speaking aloud tohiraself the night hefore. lie wliistled atjain and louder. Certaiidy u voice spoke. The light upon the casement moved slowly. A dark figure carae to the window, but from where he stood Rarnabas could see nothing but a break in the light. The figure retired ; a door creaked. The lantern fell with a clatter upon the stones at his feet; there was a rushing in his ear as if water were closing over his head. The chain upon the door fell, the bolt grated in the lock, ail unseen hand opened the great oak door, and raised a candle high, and under the light of it Marnabas saw standing face to face with him, in the very habit that he wore, Tom Talbot ! With a rattling in his parched throat he fell forward, flat upon the wet stone, like a log. ,1 ii CHAPTER LV. PANDORA S BOX. When Lady Betty looked from the fortress tinder th<« pulpit on the following 'Sunday morniny. she was surprised to see Gerard standing alone in Doctor Biandly's pew. She had seen the Doctor on Saturday morning in perfect health, and was at a loss to account for his absence. " Why are you alone, Gerard ? "' she asked, when they met after the service. " It is by my fault, 1 fear," he replied. " I was late in leaving town this morning, and believing tliat Doctor Blandly would go on without me, I came directly io the church, instead of going to him Hrst in the ordinary way. He doubtless has stayed at home waiting for me." " I was afraid some accident had liappened to him, you looked so grave and serious this morning.' " I am not a gay fellow at the best of times," said Gerard. Lady Betty looked at him with quick suspicion, and asked : " Are these not the be.st of times then, Gerard P " PANDOIJA'S r.OX. m pulpit met you lerard. asked : " 1 think we must go round by the road : the heavy rains of this past miseral)le week must have made the meadow im- passable."' " Let it be the road," she answered, and the} walked on in silence until {.hey were dear of the liomeward-wendiny congre- gation, she glancing furtively now and again at him, tht'ii pressing his arm a little closer to her side, she said : "Tell m<' what is the matter, Gerard." " Mr. Kemble has read the first act of my comedy ar.d condemned it." "Is that all?" cried Lady Betty, with a laugh. "Why, then, be gay. Merit has ever to face the spite of envy." "But Mr. Kemble is neither envious nor spiteful. 'Twas with pain he gave me his honest criticism to save me from greater disappointment and waste of time." "Granted he be honest in his opinion, what then ? 'Tis but the opinion of one man, as likely to be mistaken as another. Were we not all charmed with your work when you read it to us under the apple-tree ? do you think Doctor Blandly would flatter ? do you think I am insincere ? " " God forbid ! 'Tis because you are sim^ere in your friend- ship that I cannot take your judgment as unbiassed." " And if 'tis so, why should y^n be discouraged ? Say that the act has less merit than we believe, and more faults than Mr. Kemble, with all his generous amity, can point out, 'tis but the fifth part of your comedy, and your comedy is but a fractional part of that which your brain contains. If we were judged by single efforts, the ablest of mankind might be debased, the feeblest exalted. Do we judge Shakespeare by the first few pages t^at he wrote ? " " Dear girl, would you have me put on wings, and fly to a height from which the fall must break me ? " " But you have genius to sustain you. You took up the pen, feeling that you could write, and that consciousness should be your assurance." "I took up the pan by necessity, and learnt too late that poets are bc»"n, not made. I am not a poet ; I am — nothing ! " The tone of despondency in which he spoke was stronger than argument ; it forced Lady Betty to doubt her own judg- ment. She was silent for some seconds, tlien she said : "Gerard, you told me one Sunday that I gave you streni^tli and courage to persevere ; do you remember ? " " Perfectly, and 'tis true. If I have wrote one worthy line, 'twas in a happy moment which you had made hopeful." ** I have not altered, why should my iuflu(?nce fail P Let 7W 270 UICI ' TENANT B.A RNA HAS. lilt' II Jill Mi ;; II ''\ 111 1il ;\ 3 i- •ipirt' \(Hi Willi Vfl <;rt'iitt-r hupe. 'TIn my deiirusi wish to lielp you, III be uf wuinaiily service to you, to hold the uup to your lipy, and brig-liteu your existence bv all the means I have." Gerard felt his ht.'iut stirred, and his blood running- quicker through his veitis as he listened to tlicsc afTeclioiiaTe woi Js and loolved into the girl's sweet earnest face. He thought how uduiirable she was, how weak he. " You put me to the blush," he said ; " I am ashamed of my faint heart." " Tis dilHlence alone," said she; "your only fault is iu setting too hij^h a value on the careless or partial criticism o' this Mr. Kemble. And who is be ? a player, forsooth ! who jiid^'es a play by the scope it affords his powers." " 'Tis not a careless criticism; he pointed out a hundred defects which I perceive are real." •'And 1," cried Lady Betty, " will point out a thousand merits which you shall not be able to deny. After dinner we will go through the manuscript together vvhUe Doctor Blandly slt'tMlS. ''Tis burnt." •* Xo matter ; I do believe t remember every "word that you have wrote and read. I will recall the passages, and you shall write them.'" " Lady J3etty, you shall not waste your labours on a fruitless task. Give me your help and sympathy in achieving that wliich is within the power of an ordinary man, and we shall both succeed, you in holding me to my purpose, I in gaining the fair reward for my work." " Why, that is well said, Gerard. Men do not live by writing plays alone. There are many honourable means of rising to eminence and fortune beside the stage. A poet's rank is not the noblest. Oh, you are wise and right. 'Tis only a woman who would attempt with pertinacious obstinacy to ob- tain a position for which Nature unfitted her. And poets! what are they, Gerard ? Lazy and indolent as a rule, careless in their persons, untidy in their habits. I wouldn't have you look less like a gentleman for all the adulation in the world. Then playwrights, again ! Dear heart! what a life they lead ! 'Tis said they drink and die prematurely ; and the people they meet and speak to, and get to like behind the scenes! You would have lost your delicacy, you would have seen me but seldom, and then only to make me regret. I'm best pleased you have renounced the idea of writing plavs for a profession; not that my opinion is altered in the leaat.''^..^ ^ .^.. .^ m rest vvisl) 1 the cup ! means 1 tr q uicker voids ami ight how shamed of lult is ID riticism o lOth ! who El hundred L tliouHund dinner we or lilandly rd that you i, and you n a fruitless ieving that id we shall in gaining lot live by raeans of poet's rank "Tis only a luacy to ob- And poets! Lie, careless I't have you the world, they lead ! eople they nes ! You jen me but [est pleased prof essLon ; (n'vjird r( ulil (Mily lisltMiand love. " You could liavn wrole a play as <;()od as any of Mr. Garrick'.s, that's ci'itaiii/'she (•oiitinueil. "' You can write fm- your own aiimsiMucnt and oui' jilcayinv ; your tli"!itrc >liall he tin- yinvJen l.Mwn.ynuv audience uood old Doctor liliurllyand inysflf, with .Vir. i^axtei' tor a critic: his snore will !,e your onlv ccnyure, unless Aou make the hero too bold, lUit you siiall work fur S(nne higher end than the aniusement of the idle. Couldn't you be an a.slrono:;ier !' There is soniethiiii,'' majestic in that .^iudy,and ostrononiers live to a j;i'i!it a^-'. ihey .vcoin to uie almost as erand as patrianhs, an.l I never h"ai'(l of o!ie falliii;4' into bad habits." " I fear it's a poor business in a liicrativf" ■scns'^. Tt would ]uiy a man l)etter to tind five .sllillill^.s iIimu a new planet.'' " .\re vou laughing at me!-'" Ladv Fiettv asked. re])roach- fully. ■* Laughing at you y" crie ! he, looli iiiy doAii with t timiilttiou.i emotion into her simple-wise, beantii'ul, grave face. " You dear! I coull wors'iip you for my ;;:m1 I He had taken her hand, and as he spoke . • pressed it liercely, and liis ardetit gaze seemed to scorch her verv smj]. The blood 'left her lace, she drewh" .. d i'rom his and turned her eyes away with a fright-n. ' >)ok. It >tnicli lier witli the force of a sudden discovery that Uerard loved her, and loved her as a brotbei' may not. She walked to Doctor rJandiy'sgate v.ilhuut one word. Her silence contrasted oddly with her pievious volubility, (leranl seemed equally embarrassed. His love was a secret no longer. Did he regi't^t that a sudden accession of passion had overcome his liabitnal reserve? No The barrier was hrolctv d.iwn, and the forces of love and passion took possession ot .is sctul, sweeping reason and pru- dential considerations before ihem as they rushed from resf)'ainl. " If she will let me hope to nuike her my wife," he said to himself, " what dilUculty will be insin'montitnble ? Vnsi.ion. m(»ney, whatsoever is necessary to her happine»8eU' then alone iji tlie worl I despised, lau^'-hed ut, lovele.-s, and now I find that 1 am loved us never num was loved hefore, I think. My nctty, uiy wife 1 " "She has ever thonght of you as her liujsljand." " Jilundly has told nie so, and of her love for you hecause you were my brother. Truth — h)ve ha.s driven tluit joy from my remembrance. 'Tis not alone I find a wife, but a brother too. Give me your hand, brother — both. You also have done brave thing'.s. I am t(^ld you have w rit a play.'' " A worthless play as it proves— ^Ir. KemV)h* liasdamu'vl it." "Tlien damn Mr. Kemble in return. Pshaw! you shull do better than write plays for a grudged remuneration ; you shall see 'em for your pU'asure, Gerard . one half of all I have is yours, all if you will, so thot T have my I'etty." " Then you would be the richer, Tom.'' " Aye, that I should, a hundredfold. We will live togetlier, hunt together, fetch long walks, and live as brothers should. We will siiare a happine.«s in common, and when we find a suitable wife for you — .some sweet, good girl " lie broke off suddenly, for his ear caught above the sound of his own voice a faint crv : "Tom —my love!" Lady Betty had run across the lawn, had reached the wicket l)y tlie hedge, and then hearing his well-remembered voice, her strength failed her, and she held by the gate, her knees trembling beneath her, crying and .sobbing so that for awhile she could make no articulate sound. At her* cry he came, a)id seeing him she tottered forward with a little scream, and would liave fallen but that he caught her up in his arms and held her to his heart. And then she pressed her lips to his, and swooned away with the ecstasy of lier joy. Gerard turned his face to the wall. CHAPTER LVII. ler We 3d THE OMEN. The company did spare justice to the excellent dinner prepared by old Kate, The lovers were impatient of the moments that kept their handd and eyes asunder; Doctor Blandly was excited; and every morsel that he forced himself to take seemed to choke Gerard. For Lady Betty's peace he was 18-2 lo, ^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 4 / o {./ i£' <.0 ^ /*, ^^ :/ % M/jr 1.0 H:!^ lU ■ 156 ii2 IIIM O O III I.I 1.8 11.25 11.4 11.6 V] V 4fJ^i /A o / Q- \ i::u LIKITMNANT :u;;NAl!.\S. bound TO be thj^n-, tliongli for his own he would fain have been ulone in a desert. After dinner, Doctor Blandly mercifully despatched him with a note to Mr. Baxter, and iiistruetif)n8 to bring the parson liack to share in thn general happiness, while he, with many apologies for the intirmity of his f)ld age, ensconced liimself in his elhow-cliair, and did his utmost to sleep as usual. lie may lia\>' failed, but wluit took place between the lovers was con- cealed from his sight l)y the yellow silk handkerchief. During the afternoon Jerry brought up the best that his master's cellar contained, and under the influence of the wine the Reverend John Ba.vter and Doctor Blandly became e.\ces- sively merry. Lndy Betty's spirits mounted also, but her caiety was hysterical, and towards evening, in the midst of a peal of lauo-hter, she caught sight of Gerard's face, and as suddenly burst into a flood of tears'. Doctor Blandly came to her side, and when he had calmed her he insisted upon her going to bed. She did not refuse to use the spare chamber, and soon after Mr. Baxter returned to the Vicarage with an explanation for his wife. The brothers and Doctor Blandly sat together and talked. " What has become of my half-brother, Barnabas ? " Gerard asked. "Ah, I have that part of my history to tell you," replied Tom. " Wlien I returned to the Hall, the first thing I did was to frighten old Blake nearly out of his wits. He is an egotist, and having come to the conclusion that I had been murdered by IJarnabas, I believe his dignity was hurt by seeing me alive." " He is a conceited old fool,"' said the Doctor. " B)nt a faithful servant, so we will forgive him his faults. When I had reconciled him to the fact of entertaining a wrong conviction, he told m<> of the life Barnabas has led as the master of Talbf t Hall. A most wretched, miserable existence it must have been." "Vice and happiness are as far astmder as love and hate," said Doctor Blandly, sententiously. " Deserted by everyone, the unhappy man had left the Hall. Blake knew not wliy, pos.-ibly to find relief from solitude in the nearest inn. When we went up to the house we could find no one, but as 1 wished to see him I sat down to wait for his return. I heard from the steward all that had happened. The light faded and we lit candles. When Blake had nothing more to tell, he fell asleep. The rain fell pitilessly, and as I sat there listening to the perpetual dripping, 1 fancied what the \ '*^i THE OMKN. 277 si \ condition of a guilty wretch would be, deserted and alone iu that old hall, and I commiserated the man who had attempted my life." '■" A mistake, Tom, a mistake," said tlie Doctor ; " commiseraie the unfortunate, if you R'ill, but whip all roguen, 1 ssay." "You may say that, Doctor; but your practice would be most merciful, t'or what are rogues but unfortunate? Have you not said that vice and happiness are wide asunder ? " " Go on with your facts, Tom. You can philosophise better when you are older." "When the monotony was becoming insupportable, I heai"d a sound outside. I roused Blake. We listened, and soon after a faint whistle reached rur ears. 1 went to tlie window, and looking out caught sight of a lantern by tlie terrace sters. Blake took a candle, and we went into the entrance-jiall. Ho was fearful, and standing well behind the door, pulled it open and raised the light that 1 might .•"lee who was without. Tliere was a shock upon tiie stoni pavement lilce the fall of a tile from the roof, and taking the candle from Blake I fotmil, stretched at full length, the man who had attempted my life — I^anudni.^, to appearance dead. We got him into tlie liall, and after awhile, when he showed signs of returning co)'sciousnes,>;. \ withdrew, leaving him to Blake's rough mercy. What means he took to assure him that .le had nothing to fear from me 1 can't tell." "If Blake's the man I take him for he promised him nothing short of hanging, I'll be bound," said Doctor lilandly. "That is not unlikely, for as soon as Barnabas liad rerovered his strength he knocked the old man down, and Hed frmn the Hall, whither it is impossible to say. Tlie outbuildings were all do.'^ed, the rain fell in a 'orrenr the whole niyht. ir was pitch dark, <.nd the unhappy wreteh was lame. He did not return to the Hall. " In the morning Blake wishi^d to have the woods bi'at, and to hunt him out like a fo.v, but as this might have driven hini to some deplorable act of desperation, I forbade any .search to be made beyond the outbuildings and park-sweep. I waited about the Hall until late in the afte'Tioon, hoping he would return, for in the course of the day I learnt from the innkeeper near that he had no moiiey, and I e.iipected that hunger would force him to come back to the Hall. However, I had seen ud ,>-ign of him when I quitted Sevennaks yesterday evening, f left orders that food .should be put in tlie liaJl, and the doors left open, and thar he should be unmolested." " Thank you, Tom, for your forbearance," said (jerard ; " I 'f ffp" '278 LIE lA : :u.{Na;;a.s. m liRve wisiiwl liim (lead np;i\\i\ ami apiiii, but he i.s my mother's «on, aad I would iii»t have him die a sliameful death." " (Jixl foiI)iil ! " said Doctor Iilaiidl\ . " Tis a barbarous and a inis^c-liievoiis thing to publicly kill a man in infamy. The proper end of punishment is to correct and detf, and for a roorue like Harnaba.", deatli is no punishment at all. The soaiTold makes heroes of contemptible villains. Punish rascals, [ say a^-ain, despite Master Tom's merciful ontcrv, but punish them in a manner that shall teach them the policy of living- decent ly." " You shall tell us, Doctor, how we are to punish him, for I confess 'tis a que>tit)n that perplexes me," said Tom. The Doctor knitted liis brows, pursed up h.s lips, and took a deliberate pinch of snuff l)efore replying ; then he said : " I would just pay his passage t<) America or another of our colonics, and give tiie cnptiiin a round sum to be handed to hiiu for his necessities when he is set ashore." " And the whipping you suggested ? " Tom asked, slyly. "You can promise liim that if ever he shows his face in England again. I take it that what with fright, starvation, a broken leg, and expo.sure to the rain of Friday night, he has had as much corporal punishment as his constitution can sup- port ; 'tis his conscience that must chastise him henceforth." As neither of the brothers could suggest any improvement upon l)octctty woke, the morning wt,s yet grey. She slipped from her wliite nest, and running acro.ss to the window drew l>ack n corner of the blind ' looked down into the garden. Tom was there ; it was not too early for a lover to be up. -Making a frame with the blind, she showed him her smiliiig- face, closed her red lips and parted them ; he seemed to under- stand thepantonu!: e, and recklessly tearing arose which Doctor F.landly would have grudgingly nipped with careful scissors, he threw it up upon her window-sill in response. In an in- credibly short space of time she dressed, and with his flower in her bosom ran down, m. 1 gave up lier still sweeter, tenderer face to his lips. He put his arm about her and she clasped his hand, and in that position they walked round the garden dozens of times, looking at the flowers but not thinking of them ; feeling the utmost happiness but saying very little, perhaps because all words seemed too prosaic to express the poetry of their love. me til anc infj fori jeci THE OMEN. •:to tiler's le and The for a The ascals, punish living 1, for I took a • of our tided to yly. 'face in ation, a , he has •an 8up- orth." ovement s, it was V should i him for ey She > wiudo\\ into the to be np. • sinilins' to under- ch Doctor scissors, n an in- \s flower tenderer ad, and in of times, jelins^ the e cause all eir love. " We are not tulking much," slie .said after awhile, with a little lau^h. " I do love you so, darling, that T cannot think of indiffen nt matters readily, I love you, that is all my tongue will say." " 'Tis enough, dear," she answered. She was right, perhaps; but after awhile he felt itnecessaiy to say something else. " You have more colour in your sweet cheeks this morning.' said he, " did you sleep well ? '' ." Too well. I said to myself when 1 closed my eyes — ' I will dream of Tom, or I will not sleep at all ; ' but my eyes closed, and I don't remember dreaming anything pretty only a lot of confused rubbish that was t\ot worth dreaming about iit all. Now what dtdl dream ? — Oh! " she stopped suddenly, with a frightened look. " Something terrible?" " I dreamt that I lost a tooth." Tom burst into a hearty laugh, but Lady Betty looked grave. " You little goose," he cried, " are you vexed because you did not dream of cupids and roses ? " "No, but do you know what that signifies ?" "Not in the least, unless it be that dreams goin^ bv con- traries, you will shortly cut your wisdom tooth, sweet," " Don't laugh, Tom ; I believe in dreams." "So do 1, when they are pleasantly realised. And what is the significance of yours ? " " I shall lose a friend." " Why that may be true enough, for you will lose me for a whole day." " Where are you going, dear ? " she asked with anxiety. Tom told briefly the arrangement he had made with Gerai-d to b^ek Barnabas. " You are going to find the man who tried to take your life ! ** she exclaimed. "Oh, if you love me, dear, don't leave me.'' She was so earnest that Tom became grave. Women and men with greater wisdom than Lady Bettv believed at iluit time in signs and omens, and however absurd they may luive appeared to Tom, he saw nothing ridiculous in the fear of his sweetheart for his safety. " Dear love," said he, " we are nowhere safe from accident ; and if there be truth in omens, 'tis well to take their lightest interpretation. What will the loss be then but our separation for a day?" " Are you obliged to go, dear ? " Lady Betty asked, the sub- ject not being one for argument. M -'80 LlKUTHNVN'r UAUN .HAS. ** Be sure 'tis neoessity lliat takes tne nway from you, love" "There is dmiger— will yon not stiiy witli iiif if Iii.sk you I*" " Yes. I will do anytliing- you hid me do : hut I do not think I.ady Betty will ask her hushaud to foreyo n duty for the saki* of safety." " Ki.ss me, love, and forgive me forgetting your honour. Do n hat f/«?/ will, hrave darling, and heed me not. I nin nothing liut a little woman - with a wdinan's love and ft-av I'lierel uuw I will »ioi say anotht-rwoi-d to hinder your purpose." CHAPTER LVIII. A STURDY ROGUE. •• .Ikiiky," said Doetor Blandly, when the old servant brought him his custoniarv tankard at breakfast, " you will see that the isvo saddle horses are ready at * The Bell' by half-past ten." " I'll go round if you please, Sir, and give tlie hostler a good talking to at once." ** Do ; then take this letter to Mr. liaxter; and afterward!* find the constable, and tell liim to be hereabout ten o'clock." •lerry departed at once to execute these commissions, and Doctor Blandly explained the little comedy that would pro- liably be played before Tom and Gerard left. As ten o'clock struck, Barney ()'( 'rewe rang the bell, and thoughtfully stroldng his scruV)bv cliin. went over for the last ime those delicate points which would come under discussion i'lthe forthcoming interview with Doctor lilandly. " The top o' tlie mornun to you, s(]uoire," he said as .Terry opened t!u» gate and admitted him. •' Is the Docthor widin, if ye plase .- ' *' I shouldn't let you in if he wasn't," answered Jerry, fasten- ing the gate^ " I'm deloighted to foind ye as agraahle and complaisinf as usual: an' if f can putt a word in for yewid the master, I will, be sure, squoire." Jerry nuide no reply, but led the way into the house, and opening the door of the hreakfitsl-roou), introduced the pedlar. The breakfast things were still ujion the tahle. Doctor Blandly sat at the head, with Tom on one side of him and the Reverend John Baxter on the other. Lady Betty sented beside Tom, rested her right hand lightly upon tlie table, hfr lefi, lost to sight, was locked in his; opposite to her, and with liis> back towards the duor, sat Gerard, , i A .sttt:dv R(j«;ri-:. 28! nnd ledlur. )(H'tor f(l the " Me ts lu'r .sowl." " I have given Mr. Talbot your narrativeof Sitt\iidny,but in case I have omitted any particular, it will be well for yon to repeat what you told me for our general sati.sfaclion," said Doctor Blandly. " And I slK)uld be proud to do that same, Docthor; but ye must know I've a trenienjous objaction to spakii-g in pulilic 1 can contrive to spake in private ; but I'tn so modfst and ba.shful that I could niver get out a word before such a collec- tion of the quality." '• I don't ask you to say anything which will affect your negotiation with Mr. Gerard; all that 1 desire is that you will repeat the statement you made relative to the altatk upon Mr. Thomas Talbot — which [ understood you to say you had sworn before a magiistrate." " Sure it's thrue, every word of it, and I've sworn it upon the Ilorly Bible before the magistrate, as ye say, though for the loife of me I don't remember tlie name of 'um at this minute." "That is what I wi.sh you to state now. Afterwe.cds, if Mr. Talbot pleases, you can privately make terms for any further revelations that are necessary." ** Doctor Blandly expresses my wi.sh," sjiid Tom. " '^^efnn- T enter into any negotiation with you I nmst have partuulurs of the murder committed by Slink." " Y'are roight, dear Mr. Gevard, y'are quite roight to falie your precautions, for y'are not .supposed lo know but wliai I'm "the greatest scoundrel goun. And sure if 'tis oidy t(/ tell yt)u all about the murtlierin varmint, Sliiilc, I can >vercon)c my nat'ral hesitation." The pedlar cleared his thi()at,.ind liMking at the good things upon the table with a longing eye, said : " Docthor, will ye give me a taste o' waiher to give me courage' and moisten my lips ? " \fr iVI L'S2 ULii ti::;a: :a\>a;;as. " You may tjike sdimo wnter. tlipre is a glnss and tlie bntllf." With a wry fiun O'C.'rewc poiirt'd out ulxiut a spoonful of wutor in the ^liiss, which lie raist-d to liis lips and set down again witl» the remark, thnt it was a " moif^hty onph\'isant tliivoiir" the water had in the.se parts ; and then with all the I'fTiontery of a Newj^nte ])le;ider, lie repented in snhstatiee th'' Ktorv he had told to Doctor lUandly, but with many rhetorical (lourisheh and eloquent iiddilion,'", for the old man was vain of liis ability, and only too proud to make a display before a cul- tivated audience. He addressed liini.s,df chiefly to Tom, under the iin-iiri'ssion tliat he was (lerard, but patlietic passiiges he delivered looiiMij;' at Lady I'etty, as when he described the " swate smoile that dwelt on the young- murthered gintleman's Ciico !is he looki'd U]) to the bl ^J»"d stars .-ib'ive 'um, and when, in conchi ion, he culled upon iju? saints in Heaven to witness that he had no object but to prove the holy truth, he directed liis fflance to the lleverend John P.axter. " Perhaps we can prove the trutii witliout troubling the saints," saifl Doctor Blandly, drily, as he touched the bell. O'Cntwe opened his eyes in astonishment. Jerry entered. " Tell the coiK-table to bring the young man here," said Doc- tor Dlandly. The constable presently appeared leading Slink by the arm. " Do you know wlio tliat is ? " asked Doctor Dlandly. ** Do I know who it is Y I should think I did ! Sorra a one better. 'Tis the murtherin varmint, Slink himself, wid just the siune bloodthirsty expression in the face of 'um he had when 1 si-e 'um a dra<:ging that swate blessed Misther Tom into the row Id, cowld river ! " Slitik grinned from ear to ear. " Don't laugh, ye murlherin' villain, ye'll not escape the vingeance of the law. I know ve at once, though I nivir saw- yer face but twoice in my loife.'' " You have a good memory for features," said Doctor Blandly : ''do you remember the face of Mr. Thomas Talbot ?" " Nothtm better; T sludl never forget the expression of 'um to my dyuji day. He was not like you, Mr. Gerard, for ye've got tlie ifnitures of your mother, and Mr. Tom tuk afther tlu; owld admiral." At this assertion Slink was attacked with such a fit of laughter that he had to bend his body at a right angle with his legs, and stamp his feet before he could fetch l)reatli. In a less demonstrative fashion the rest of the company seemed also amused. " Sor ! " exclaimed O'Crewe, addressing Doctor Blandly, and FAKEWKLL 2h;i fill of down oasant nil th«' tnvical viiin of ) a vm\- , \mh'y UiTt'S lu' wd tlu* leiimn's i when, witnei^>* directed lins; the lell. tered. mid Doc- the arm. ly. ,rra a one wid just n he had Tom into ica^e the liiivir paw Blandly; Ion of 'nni for ye'vt' if theV the ' laughter his leg-'^, I In a less Mned also Lndly, and drawing himself np with an air of ofTeiided dignily. " wad ye be koind enough to explain the munin' o' that diily black- gyard's behavior ? " "The explanation is this," said Torn, " tnv name is Thomas Talbot." "Mr. Thomas! and not dead at all? Thank the powers!" said O'Crewe, with ready wit, " I'm rejoieed to see yoii lookun so well, Sor, an' it plases me moightily to fuiiid that I've been niakun a mistake all the while." " iJut it doesn't please me," cried the Doctor; "and if yon have sworn a lie you shall lie punished for your perjury." "Sure, and that was a mistake too, Doctlior dear. D'ye think I'd swear the life away of a cliavninn yonnir innocinf country lad P divil a bit ! I never swored, notluin at all, at all." As he spoke the pedlar edged away from tlie constable towards the door. " Wait," said the Reverend John Baxter ; " there's one thing that there i's no mistake about. You have tried to inlpo^^e on us with a false and scandalous assertion." " Sure, your riverence, that was the greatest mistake of nil." " And one that you shall liave the opportunity of repenting. Constable, you will take this man and lock np his feet in the stocks until sundown. Give him as much water as he ran drink, and no more bread than he can pay for — off with him for a sturdy rogue." CHAPTER LIX. FAREWELL. Chanqtvg horses twice upon the road, Tom and Gerard reached Talbot Hall about five o'clock in the afternoon. Old Blake came to the gate. " He's about. Sir — he's about," he said, in a low voice. " He was seen yesterday, and I catched sight of him a^fain this morn- ing. Shall I fetch my gun and come up to the house with you?" Tom laughed. "Do you think we need protection against a poor lame devil such as he ? Open the gate, and come up to us in half-an-hour, and not before.'* ]31ake shook his head, and reluctantly opi -^ the gate for the two gentlemen to pass. ." Go on, Gerar.d; I will overtake you in a couple of minutes. It has just struck me that Slink's sweetheart is aying to know i: •_»84 LIEUTENANT lU UNA BAS. Iii.H f.'iii'/' Tdiu siiiil, imllinf,'' up wlicii tliey wero lialMozi'ii yards from tlie lodge, lie turiu' in the covert. There are deer in the park, and wlu^n they come upon the lawn, they add to the prettine.-^s of tlie picture; but a sweet wife on the terrace, and children .>tretching their pretty arms out to welcome us, are wanting to nndve it perfect " " .May nothing he wanting to complete your happiness," 5 " Nor yours, Gerard. I see nothing of that unhappy man, do yon ?" . ■ " Nothing," ,'jaid G»>rard. . ^ . .■•■ • . ..;. They had passt'd the dumps, Gerard riding between that on tlie left and Tom, and were now close at the house. They die- mounted, and having hitched their reins upon the iron scroll- work at the foot of the terrace steps, they entered the house by the open door. Tom threw open 1 he door of the diuing-room. It was empty ; hftd the to tlie and ■iH. man, that on ley dis- 80 roll- house emptj' ; I'AKHWHl.L. 2S-. >;i) )n I lie table wcie ni1ii)is of ln'iken fofu). nn overt iirnt-d mtcher. und a dirty jfluss liiilf full ot .stale uK-. 'I'liey exam- ined room after room, and tiitding no one, wviu (lit beyond the shrubberies into the atables; they also were de.surted. Here they were joined by lilake. " Where are the horses ? " asked Tom. " I've had 'em n-moAed, Sir," re]dit'd the uteward. For von see, Sir, this Mr. — Mr. Crewe, I tliink lie's culled, lout lus'ii, and 1 tliong'ht he mi^lit take a fancv to breaking a lock, and taking one of yourn. Sir. liOid, Sir, 'taint no good looking about for him in there. He's as scaiy as a liunled t'ox. When T see him this morning he was eating food a-standingin the hall-doorway, to tnake sure he xhoulilii t lie trapped — he's as wild as a Hedlamite. This was the stall where he kep' his horse, and that his saddle." "Comt» into the house, (jferard. lilake, send sometliing to eat and diink up to my room. What can you g ve us 'r '' l)iscu.ssing the quest ion of refreshment, Tom and the steward walked out of the stable. Gerard folluwing them, stcpjird aside quickly to the hanging i^addle and put his hand into the liolsters : they were empty. The room chosen by Tom for liis use was above the entrance, and looked down upon t lie terrace. They sat near the winddw and ate, and when the meal was finished they walked round the Hall and along the terrace until the light faded, then they returned to the cham])er, having seen nothing of Jjarnabas. Rain was beginning to fall again. " Gerard, we must put an end to that poor wretch's sutTcriiigs to-morrow. It is terrible to think of him wandering about half- starved in tliis atrocious weather, witliout shelter or a single comfort in the world. If he is wild with fear, as Blake makes out he is, we are not likely to get within speaking distance of him unless we take measures for catchiug him. That will not be a difficult cask with the servants to help us, as he is lame ; but one has a natural repugnance to hunting a human creature as one would a beast." "True; yet, as you say, he must not be suffered to exist in his present manner, and if we cannot find a belter method before the morning, that niust be adopted. '* I am anxious on your account, as well as his, Tis preying on your mind, Gerard, to an extreme. I understand how you must feel upon the subject, but I confers your depression astonishes me. You have known him long foi a scoundrel, and thought him your brother. 'Tis some satisfaction to know that his father was not yours." •_'80 MlU'TKNANT lUUXAIJAS. I.* " I feel tlint/rinn ; niid admit tliiit tli« balance <>f tortiini" IniH latnlv tunu'din my I'avoiir." "I'lien why Mliouldn't you be of better clieerP Tlie fiitnrt' is not unpl«'!isaiit to you : we «luill sliare everythini,', and you will find inc t-iij^iT to catch your wisliew and fall in with them." " I know, I know," Gerard said, pressing the liand his brother held out to him. " Vou have no .""ecret grief, hey, brother? I never knew any- one 8o utterly dejected, except myj- 'If, when I fancied that ray mist ref<8 despised me. You have lost a sweetheart, have \ou U" " A sweetheart," Gerard said, with a dry laugh. " Did you ever hear of me loving a woman, do you think a woman could love me, an ex-gan^ester, brother to a murdering villain, a man who succeeds at fleecing fools at cards and fails in the first honest work to which he set his hand P The most that an angel can do iis to pity me." " Tis but the tho»;ght of to-day, Gerard. A year — six months— aye, less than that, of companionship with pleasant folks, will change your bitter reflections upon the past to sweet hopes of a future. I shall take my wife to Italy while the alterations are being made here, and you sliall come with us, and if ray sweet Hetty's lively happiness does not drive away your care, I will suffer you to build a cell and live in it like a hermit." Gerard turned away in silence. " Well, well, think what you will," said Tom, "time shall show. Fill your glass, and when the bottle is empty we will turn into bed. AN ill you share my room, or take the next P" " I'll take the next, for the sake of having my own sweet company to myself." " As you will, Gerard." " I'll say good-nigh^ now. Is the library door unlocked P " "Yes." "I shall read for an hour. Good-night, Tom." "God bless you, Gerard." ■ --' CHAPTER LX. IN THE LIBRARY. Thr librarv, like all the principal rooms in Talbot Hall, looked out upon tiie terrace. The shutters were unclosed, and the IN Ti'iK MI'.UAUY. 287 ^ked the 1i'«:t\y .'iirtnins loopt'.l np. Tin' li;.;lit ul the c.iihIIi' lit hy (htjimI rdllM Im' seril trnju tlli' IllWIl. Genird «at witli Wis Itys oro^Hscd and his hands clnHp»>d over his knee for full hHlf-un-lu)ur in thon^fht ; tlion ho roso, look the firwt hook that iiis liiiiid touched, aiitl opeiiiii;^ if in th'- middle, road. lie niised his head and listened, oatchint,' a fuint sound from the outside; huf the swiiifrin^'' of a hiutern and a hnnvy re^fuhu" tread growing distinct, he dropjied his eyes auain. Tlie outer door was o|iened,and someone tapped ut the lihiury door. "Come in,"' he saiil. niake entered, his eedlar up, a stream of wafer falling from his hat as he removed it. " lleg your pardon, Sir, is Mr. Thomas here h " ho asked. " No; he is in tlio room upstairs." "No light in tlu) window, Sir." " Then he is asleep, or, at least, in bed." ** Any orders for the morning'-, Sir 'f " " Tell one of the stable hids to have a horse ready as soon aa it is light." " IMght, Sir. The hid shall sleep in the stable, and when you want the horse — if you'll just give him a call — his name's Jacob, Sir." " Very well. Good-night." " ]\o>X your pardon, Sir, shall I show you how to fasten the front door ? " " No, I understand that." ** That's everything, Sir. I only mentioned it becau.se I see Bomething like a figure round the shrubbery in the dusk, and, )> Gerard nodded, and returuing to his book, closed further discussion. Tlie retreating step of the old steward, and subsequently tlie heavy step of a stable-help, were the only sound.s tiiat broke the silence for a couple of hours ; during that time Gerard read page after page of tl:e book on his kr.ee listlessly, lie read ecause he could not sleep and did not want to think. The wind had risen, and blew the rain in gu.sty violence against the windows, now in a sharp, momentary dash, and again in a long, pattering volley ; but the casements were well secured, and the lights burnt steadily by Gerard's side. After a long pelting of heavy drops against the glass, tlie wind turned, and there was a lull in the stormy brunt. In this momentary silence, a grating sound fell upon Gevard's ear, and simultaneously the flame of the candles swept down the wax p-nd leapt up, confusing the printed lines under his eye. Had I I'm LIEIIKN \M nA'LN-U'.VM, »hf u'iikI li^iwti o|»iMi lln' t'r lilt (Jfioi •;' It \Vij> hnrdlr po«.Ki>)le; 'lie Hicunni liiid (jlo-«;d it can'tully, aij,r*-A by soiih', (ijieninj?; ri<;r;ird f'df tlic datiij) chill uf it upon liiis fact'. Ili; riii-i'd lii« cyt-n from 1 hn Pii;:*' 1'» ih(> library «loor. II(^ coidd not w»m' it di^itinnlly lor '111' liKht that fVll hcf wccii. Hn iriovcd tlin ranib'l-ibni fiirlhor liack, thf'ii rcpiucj'd iiiw limid upon ihtj iyyoU, k*-,'uinfs hit* eyeM iipud tliH ddor-lalch, and iiio\ itif.' not u uiiiHch', rrt's«Mitly ht^ ■avN' lilt- latch ri.Hc ainJ nIowIv dcmx'iid Uh tlieduoj' moved b*'yoii,dit (Jerard dihliiiiruinhed IJaniabas hrinj^inp' up n ])iNlol to the level of Win head. (lerard .>-at a^ motioidewM as a Hlatiur. lie nii^ht have been dead already, but for thb reflected light in hiw eyen, and tiuit tie .spoke : " HiJinabaw," he said. BainabaH lowered his pistid, and looking auiclily ruuiid thn room, his finger Htill upon the trigK*'i', ankcd hoarsely: "Where iH her" "AhI-c].." .,. " You Hpokf^ jnul in lime, ('urne the ligljt, I cannot He**. In he hirling here!' Mnrk me, 'twill be your fault if I am a frttlricide, for by (tcnl I'll nhoot you if he lays a finger upon me in treachery ! " He spoke, looking round the room wildly, and evidently a« a war "ng to Tom if he w«'re in concealment. " lie i.s not liere. If you don't want to wake him, shut the door and speak lower." "Shut the door! A likely thing, I'm not trapped vet, S?!eak low! What do I want to say to you P Nothuig. What I have to say to liiin tliis *vill tell I " He made a move- ment with the heavy pistol. " What good will it do you to shoot him 'f Are you madv" "Nearly. I have been quite. And it was he drove me out of my senses coniing before me and standing there in the door- way when I thought he was dead. A fine joke for him, but one that will cost him dear Let him come, 1 don't fear liim now. The rain and pain, and hunger and thirst have cured me. I've another friend in ray pocket, and standing here, in this corner, I fe.ir none of you — my father, yiiuk, him, you, and all that are plotting to do for me." He put himself in the corner by the door, and lugged out the IN Tlir: MBKARV. '2>i ♦jrt Vroi" furih«?r iiiiH eyMK Mitly h*\^ 1 bryoiKl upon ilH y it tl-w I'ianiuliUH avi( bptiii rouiKi t^i*" )t see. I« f I am a r upon me ieiUly as a Hhut the lpj)ed yet. Notbini,'. Ic a move- Are you [ve me out the (loor- him, hut fear him 1 curtid me. pe, in tliis , and all led out the second pi«tol froDj his pofkot, looking now in th«* darli hfhitnl him, now towurdM (jt'ranl and tlif room. (ierard, he(;oniing more used to tli«Miitn li^ht, could Mnirk tl > appttarunce of his half-brother. U'ih 'M) T.TEUTENANT BARNABAa. ((I nfiidor. To-moriT.w nioriiing' we sliall name our terms and nblie'e you to to accept tliem." "Not whil«> I can lift a pistol. I swear I will hang for the man who has made my life hell tO me, and for once I will keep my oath." At this moment there was a movement above, and livnabas looked into the daikness witli palpable fear. He wis like a U ast at bay, for whom a sound has more terror rhan a blow. Me was a coward even in his desperation. Tom's voice above called, " Gerard ! " In a moment Barnabas dashed from his corner, and fled out into the darkness. Gerard heard him stumbling- down thf r(MTare slep.y. " Gerard," Tom called again. Gerard made no reply. Tom, too drowsy to make inqtiirifs into the noise that had disturbed him, turn>'d upon his side to >!eep and dream. Gerard .sat and watched. And the night wore slowly on. i % ■til CriAPTEII LXI. . ' . "greater LOVK hath no MAN' THA>f THIS, THAT A MAN LAY DOWN niS LIFK FOH HLS FRIKND8." Gkrard paced up and down the library. He could fix his attention upon the book no longer. From time to time he walked to the window and looked out into the obscurity ; once he went out to the door in the entrance-hall, peering- to the right, and left alonjjf the terrace. He could see nothing. He liiid but slight liope of Barnabas returning, and when at lengtli I he outline of the distant woods became vaguely visible, he telt convinced tliat the resolution Barnabas had made was unalter-« ;;hle. He would surely take Tom's life. He stood for a few minutes with his hand resting on the table, looking round the room, and he pictured the future. The room glowing with the light of burning logs in the wide chimney ; his brother Tom seated there with Lady I'Jetty, his sweet wife, beside him ; Doctor Blandly an honoured guest sharing their happiness and content, and little children playing at their mot lu'r'.s feet. There was no vacant chair placed for an expected friend in the picture. With a sigh he turned away and walked to the end of the room, where in the evening they had thrown down their hats and coats. "grf.at;::^ i.ovk tath vo ^^\^^•• etc. •:;>! e e St 1^ llt> took up Tom's li^*it w it on. It WHS lurg^e for him— so much the better for his piiipose, \\ lieii he turned up the coHar »inJ biittotied it over it coverHl th<^ lf)Aver half of his face. Then h* put on his hat. dr.iwin .■ it <)n\vn over his eyes. Thus dressed. o\en in the !i\rht lie niifrht have been mistaken for his broth»'r Tom. He paiisod in walkinc towards the door, ask in <_> liiins.'lf if ln> shoidd write a word to leave behind him — a uiess;iue lo iur- to him — a testimony of the love in his heart l' No, 'twould but add to their sorrow if thev knew him for somelhinii- heltec than nn unfortunate man. The fannly Jiihle wa> in l.i.> hand • he might have left it open ufon the table with the p;i!.''t* tnrn'd down at this line: "Greater love liath no nnn tlian this, ilnii a man lay down his life for his friends.' Should he do so to tell how mufh he loved r* No. 'twould hi' less ]).iiiiliil \n tn tri- bute his end to unfortunate cartdessness than heroic I'le drive. It was growing liglst rapidly. After walkinj' down the broad path a hundr. J yards, (ierard couM discern the oiii- lines of the two evergreen clumps -itanding by the path. "All that heaven