IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I =- IIIIM |50 ." 1.37 m U M 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 M 6" — ► ^ ^. /^ ^? y^ Photographic Sciences Corporation «^ <^^^ ^V 6^ a % ^^ ^<4i ^^^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 871-4503 f? t!? L<*/ t/u fA CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques \ \ m^ Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checked below. L'Institut a microfilmd le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du point de vue bibliographique, cui peuvent modifier une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage sont indiqu6s cidessous. n Coloured covers/ Couverture de couleur □ Coloured pages/ Pages de couleur □ Covers damaged/ Couverture endommag^e D Covers restored and/or laminated/ Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e □ Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque □ Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur n D Pages damaged/ Pages endommag6es Pages restored and/or laminated/ Pages restaur§es et/ou pellicul^es Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages ddcclordes, tachetdes ou piqu^es Pages detached/ Pages d6tac^4es □ V n Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin/ La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge intdrieure Blank leaves added during restoration may appear within the text. Whenever possible, these have been omitted from filming/ II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le text?, mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont pas 6t6 filmdes. D D D Showthro'jgh/ Transpai«}nce Quality of print varies/ Quality in^gale de Timprassion Includes supplementary material/ Comprend du materiel supplementaire Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to ensure the best possible image/ Les pages totalement ou partiellement obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, etc., ont 6X6 filmSes d nouveau de fa^on d obtenir la meilleure image possible. D Additional comments:/ Commentaires suppl6mentairep; This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqu^ ci-d'^antes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le plus gra'^d soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettotd de l'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est imprimde sont filrnSs en commenpant par In premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la premidre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par la derni^re page qui comporte une telle empreinte. The last recorded fram.e on each microfiche shall contain the symbol -^ (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END "), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be enti'ely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ^- signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film^s d des taux de reduction dlffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est filmd d partir de Tangle sup4rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. irrata to pelure, n d □ 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 UPON THIS ROCK. A LIFE-CHRONICLE OK THE LAST CENTURY OF CHRISTIAN CIVILIZATION BY M. C. O'BYRNE. " We may hold converse with all forms Of the many-sided mind. " ♦ ♦ * * * " I take possession of man's mind and deed. I care not what the sects may brawl. I sit as God holding no form of creed But contemplating all." ' (Tennyson.) • m TORONTO, ONT. : J. SPENCER ELLIS, PUBLISHER. MDCCCLXXXIX. ■enmn PZ3 ^ 0/ -iu. 1754 'ser. Ehleved accor.linB to h^X of rarliament of Canada in the «ffl^« "J <';« IMinislcr of . gricultuve. by J. d.'KNCKK Ellih. in the year one thou- Hand eiglit hundred and eighty-uino. ihe office of the e year one thou THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED Co tl^e (Englisl? people * Throughout the World, WHOSE DEOTINY IT NEEDS NO PROPHET TO FORETELL, AND BY AND THROUGH WHOM THE "SUPREME CAUCASIAN MIND," —EMANCIPATED PROM EVERY SUPERSTITION, AND CHECKED BY NO APPREHENSION FOUNDED ON MYSTERY — MUST EVERMORE CONTINUE TO MA? IFEST ITS HIGHEST DEVELOPMENT ; TO THAT PEOPLE WHOSE PROUDEST Bo.ST IT IS THAT THEIR FOREFATHERS, WHEN THEY FREED THEMSELVES FROM TH« MENTAL THRALDOM WHICH FOR AGES IMPEDED CIVILI- ZATION AND PROGRESS, MADE CLEAR THE WAT FOR THAT UNIVERSAL EMPIRE WHICH THE TWENTIETH CENTURY AT ITS CLOSE WILL CONCEDE TO THE ANGLO-SAXON RACE. r iitiw ■; * <4:'i :::■ :■■:' ^ .: i ti-W . S ' .4' UPON THIS ROCK. BOOKE YE FIRST. CHAPTER L INTRODUCING A LORD, A LADY, AND A PLEBEIAN. '• Wanted, an Organist, capable of conducting a small choir in « country church. Apply, with testimonials, to G,, office of tlxi» paper." SO ran an advertisement in the proper column of a certain long-established metropolitan Catholic paper early in the year of gracel870. How many applications, with testimonials, •were sent to "G." is equally beyond our province and our ability to declare. Tliey may have been many or they may have been few, but however this may be, only three persons — all young men — were selected to have a final interview with the advertiser, about a week after the appearance of the announcement. These three candidates, with one of whom this history will concern itself, might have been seen sitting a few feet inside the entrance hall of a mansion in Belgravia on the day in question, all of them wearing much the same sort of expression as they might have been expected to wear had they been about to undergo a trial for murder. Ample time was aftbrded them to meditate upon their probable chances or to allow their minds to become impressed with the grandeur of the position of a member of England's upper ten, to which favoured class the unknown advertiser evidently belonged. The hall was in itself larger than a suburban villa, with a high, old-fashioned hea£ing-stove — without a fire — a servants' table, and a pedestal whereon stood a massive bust, presumably that of the lord of the mabsion. A broad flight of steps led up to the higher regions Irom one end of the lobby, and a life-sized portrait of a midiUe-aged man with a very red face and a big wig seemed to be pointing the way to O UPON THIS ROCK. all who might have occasion to mount the staircase. Doubtless the place-seekers who contemplated all this felt properly awed long before they were summoned, by a most respectable undertaker-like domestic, into the presence of the mysterious and mighty *' G." Happily for them, they were not called upon to ascend the staircase up which the rubicund ancestor was always so perseveringly staring, hut were led off through a door at the left, and found themselves in a large, plainly furnished apartment hung with other portraits of ladies and gentlemen bearing a strong family resemblance to him of the staircase. At a side table in this room was seated a man somewhat past the prime of life, who turned half round on his chair as the candidates were ushered into his presence. Austere in feature he certainly was, but with his haughtiness was blended a certain air of benevolence and of serenity which indicated that he was either a philanthropist or a devotee. When he spoke his voice was carefully modulated. " I am," he said, '* the Earl of Guisborough, and you are here in response to my advertisement for an organist. Your letters I have, of course, read, and the testimonials, all of which are most unexceptionable. Before we go any further let me state that the salary I shall give will be eighty pounds a year, so that the two of you who are married men will not find this sufficient. Is i^ not so ? " Hereupon two of the three candidates bowed, and ©ne ventured to inquire whether his lordship, in the event of a married man ))eing deemed most fitting for the vacant situa- tion, would be disposed to increase the salary to a hundred pounds. ** When I say eighty pounds," gravely answered the Eatl, ** I do not mea ~ a hundred. On no account would I desire any person to enter my establishment without adetjuate remu- neration for his services, and therefore, as I have said, I do not think the place one for a married man." So thought the two married men themselves, and they ac- cordingly were courteously dismissed, leaving the Earl of Guisborough alone with the youngest candidate, who looked anything but rejoiced at thus having the field cleared before him. " Your name is Desmond — Hugh Desmond," said his loi-d- ship, " and I learn from your letter and from Father Le- UPON THIS nOCK. irl of o(ik('(l 'fore i- Le- maitre's tescimonial that you are a convert. You are a verj young man, — nineteen, I think 1 have you any experience ia teaching ? " Hugh Desmond was young, and perhaps a certain effeminacy of appearance, only redeemed by his height and a slight shade upon his upper lip betokening the future moustache- made him seem youivger even than he was. His tace was just now almost colourh'ss, and he was evidently nervous. He had a profusion of dark-brown hair reaching down to his collar, where it became slightly wavy, as though inclined to cur!. In repose his long-lashed eyes wore a dreamy, imaginative expression, but they lightened up like sudden fire when he spoke. " My only experience, my lord, has been in a small private school, — my own, — which I have kept during the last two years." " H-m," said the Earl, " a private school 1 "Was it a mixed one?" " No," replied the youth, " it was only for boys." " Indeed, and pray what was the general course of lessons in your school 1 Merely the rudiments, I suppose j the three r's, as they are termed ? " " I taught those, my lord, together with history, navigation, and a little Latin and French." " Latin and French, do you say ? are not these rather lofty subjects for village children ? " " They would certainly be, my lord," replied the young man, " but some of my pupils were the sons of master mariners, tradesmen, and so on, while my evening-school was attendf^d by many who were older than their teaclier." "Ah, yes; I understand," said the nobleman. "You are the son of a sailor : I think you so wrote me. Did you teach yoursek' Latin, Mr. Desmond 1 If so, it does you credit." " Nay, your lordship ; my teacher whs a minister of tlie Church — I mean of the establishment, the minister of mv native town." After a brief pause, during which the Earl closely scanned the countenance of the youth, he said : — " Well, Mr. Desmond, although I mainly require an organist for our choir of village children, there would also be a litt'.e work for him in the school as assistant to the master, who is an old man. I fear the routine work there miglit prove 8 UPON THIS HOCK. drudgery to one who seems qualified for a mueli liiglier posi- tion. IfowevMr, this is a loiisideration for your.self'. 1 uiay state at once tliat, if your musical capaltilities are satisfactory, — of course our recjuireuieuts are of the simplest nature, — •why, we may settle tin* matter at once. This (|ue.stion of music I am not competent to decide ; it i.s one, lio\ve\er, which my daughter Blanche will see to, so if you please we will go to her." Going to the door, tlie Earl led the way into the vestibule, past the Vjewitrged ancestor, up the wide staircase. Turning at the tirst laudini;, l)esm()nd s gh-mc*' f«'II ujion the picture helow him, nixl it struck him that the countenance bore a most portentous frown. Had th«' spii'it oi" shade of the old Jacobite Colonel Meadows really been able to exercise some Secret influence upon the canvas %\hich portrayed him, there is little doubt, wc think, that the portr.-iit would^liave under- gone; some strange convulsion as the two men passed Ijefore it. Turning ofl' to the left, the Earl stoj)pc(l at a door which opened into an apartment containing, as I )esmond instantly peicei\eil, two thini^s needful to decide his future, in the shape of a pianoforte and a harmonium. At •)ne end of the room Mer-e two persons, a man and a woman : the former a tall, soldier-like man of about thirty, the latter a Vjeautiful creatui'O of ei'diteen. That thev were brother and sister was easily seen in the dark eyes, hair, and the slightly a(]uiline nose which were conunon to l)oth. Captain J{ol)ert ^Meadows, the Earl's eldest son, cast a rathei* supercilious look upon his father's conipanion ; indeed, the gallant captain's physiognomy seemed to have made hauteur its regular visor, which was really a ]nty, seeing that he might well have been content with himself as Nature fashioneil him. "Robert," said the Earl, "I ara about to engage a choir- master for Holmwood. and, as usual, the decision rests with Blanche. My dear," he said, " this is Mr. Desmond, whose \ letter vou have already seen." The honourable Captain gave the schoolmaster a stare and a scarcely perceptible nod and then left the party and the room, such a trivial matter being one in which he was in no degree interested. How shall I describe Blanche Meadows ? I have already said tliatshe av.is beautiful, and I almost think this must suf- iice. There are writers w-ho will rattle oft' an inventory of UPON TMI8 KOCK. re and kl tho I in no ready It suf- kv of i I : f»?ujal«j cliariiiK with a« much fnoiUty as a dealer in the slav»- iiiark«*t would dewirilw the various points of such a houri us that in Umoiik'H picture, where the Aral) examines the woman much as an occidental would examine a horse. The reverence Me hfar to wohian prevents us fro;n attoinpting such a per- formance. TluTR are critics who tell us that the Venus do IVIediri iti knock-kneed, that a head so small as hers is almost hrainlt'ss, and no on nd nauseam. All this may be true, we cannot say ; hut the Lady IManche was not a Venus de ]SIedioi. Marble was never lik«' her, nothincr ^old and lifeless <"iulove the ordinary standard, but her exquis- itely moulded figure pievented this boin*:,' noticed. Her com- plexion was rather pale, while Urv «'yes wito hj.ick and lustrous. Tresses of dark hair were contined behind her head, tre.sses which, if unfastened, would have swept down to her waist like those with which painters have so generously endowed the First Mother, of whose personal charms the old legend has MOU;iht to say. The look j^iven to the candidate for ofllcf^ by the lady was longer- much lijiigor — than that bestosved upon him Viy the Captain. Onw only did Hucrh I^esmoiul raise his eyes toward her, while a Ijurnin^ blush tietiayed liow unused he was to such an ordeal a.s this For a brief moment his dreamy look gave place to one of those eager flashes, and the sudden scin- tillation over, the drooping eyelids again fell before the lady's inspection. " 1 have found Mr. Desmond more than capable of assisting Flowers," said the Earl; "and I hope the necessaiy prelim- iuai-y to his beco'ning our choir-master will lie settled to our mutual satisfaction." " Ml-. J^esmorifl will not find us very exacting," said Lady lilanche ; " I think we may confine oursehes almost, if not entirely, to a (iloria and some hymns." "You will bear in mind, dear, that Mr. Desmond has but recently been reconciled to the Church, and that he probably may find its music rather foreign t^ him at first." " We will," answered the lady, "first go to the harmonium, leaving Mr. iJesmond tochoo.se wl^at he will play." The examination proved a brief one. After Desmond had played some chantH, a Gloria, and the sequence, " Latida Sion salvatoretu" he went to the piano, and selecting from !ii 10 UPON THIS BOCK. the music-books before him, showed that he really possessed musieal knowledge of a high order. " Thank you," said Lady Blanche ; " we will not trouble you further : there can be no doubt of your perfect fitness for the post. Our choir is no*; a large one, *and our require- ments are not great. I should say, howevv^r, that you will find some of the children very stupid ; they sr em to have no idea of time, and their forgetfulness is amazing." " Patience, however," said the Earl, " will effect mar\ els. Mr. Desmond, we will go and conclude the engagement." Bowing low in response to Lady Blanche Meadows' " Good morning ! " Desmond left the room with the Earl. On the stairs they encountered the Captain, and Hugh now found himself able to account for the vague feeling of having known that honourable gentleman in some ante-natal exist- ence. The Honourable Robert Meadows was the living image of the ac^estor of the staircase, minus the claret complexion and the big wig. Lavater would have said that pride, — per- haps family pride, — lay at the root of both their characters. If the founder of a great house were a proud man two hun- dred years or thereabout ago, it is but natural that his descendant of to-day should be still more so. Now that the doctrine of Evolution is used to explain all things, from the material universe with its suns, planets and moons to the upgrowth of man from the ascidian, it may also be made to appear that the eldest son of the Earl of Guisborough ought naturally to be the very proudest scion of a not remarkably humble race. Was he not the son and heir of an Eighth Ear), and were not the Meadows the owners of a great estate and » noble came ? The earldom was of comparatively modern date, but did not Sir Gilbert Meadows of Holm wood do knightly service at Poictiers ? No mushruom house was theirs whose spawn had lain hidden in congenial dirt until some sudden influence had caused it to spring up in a single day. It was but natural that a Meadows should be proud, — proud of his name, of his sires and their untarnished connection with England's annals, but, above all other things, proud of the unshaken, unswerving fidelity of the family to the old religion as it was ere the lecherous Tudor cast his hungry glances at Mistress Anne Boleyn. At red Bosworth, none did Richmond truer service than Sir Harry Meadows, whose son UPOK THIS BOCK. 11 fled the court of Richmond's successor and contrived to live a. peaceful life during the troublous, heart-searching years which followed the downfall of Wolsey. As we have said, no member of the family «ver swerved from the old religion. " Semper Fidelis " was their motto, and sooth to say, in this matter of religion no other would have been so befitting. It may be that the Earl of Guisborough's ready engagement of Hugh Desmond was facilitated by the fact of the latter being, as it were, a " brand plucked from the burning." So' long as human nature is what it is, such considerations will prove all-powerful in influencing men's likes and dislikes. We do not question that any other applicant for the situation t» which Hugh was preferred, had he been a Catholic from infancy, would have undergone a longer and severer probation ere he found himself admitted Into the EarFa household. However this may be, Desmond was so far fortunate in that within a few minutes after his musical examination he was dismissed from his lordship's house on the understanding that within fourteen days he should make his appearance at Holmwood, the ancestral home of the Meadows', in the county of Rutland. Has the reader ever applied for a situation and been suc- cessful in his suit 7 We, to whom it has fallen to indito this chronicle of nineteenth-century existence, have often under- gone the ordeal of trying for a place. Once or twice we have been fortunate ; but, alas for our luck ! we have but too frequently been found among the rejected. Sages have written thpt there is more danger in prosperity than in adversity the jewel-headed. It may be so, but it is a form of peril which all are ready and willing to dare. To a mind untaught in the school of experience any sudden access of fortune is, however, likely to prove a disturbing element. Our hero was at an age when the equilibrium is easily destroyed, — if indeed in the plastic days of youth any mind may be said to be hi equilibrio. After thirty, — the period of manhood, when, in medical phraseology, the epiphyses have become ossihed, — the healthy man can retain his balance either in good or bad for- tune. At nineteen, however, human nature is not so assured y " the world, the flesh, and the devil " have not yet had their innings; the cup of pleasure — as the novelists say — has scarcely, if at all, been raised to the lips ; and the mind, or soul, or the Self, is as a sheet of parchment awaiting the r I 12 UPON THIS ROCK. stylus whose lines, however faintly traced, will assuredly remain as long as life endures. Hugh was a stranger in London, having as yet been scarcely forty hours in the great congeries of towns. Who and what he was the reader already knows in part, among other things, that he was but nineteen. This record is not one of saints and their doings, — we sincerely wish it had been ! — but of ordinary men and women, albeit we introduce our principal as a recruit in the ranks of that great militant army, one of whose special claims is holiness. The stranger wiio finds himself alone in London, if young alike in years and experience of men, iiad much better be alone in the Sahara. If Ije be poor in the superlative degree, and un.skilled in tiie science of cadgerdom — why, then, God or Dame Fortune help him ! if he have money in his purse may tliey lielp him all the more I Had Hugh Dosmond been in the desert on this particular evening ho would have had reason to congratulate himself. As it was, howovei', he was in that other Sahara, the wiklei-ness of bricks and mortar, and, like most lustics, he had set his heart upon going to the play. Whither he went it boots not to enquire ; let it suffice that on his return he was accosted by one of those frail nymplis whose hideous leprosy not even llomance can cover. Would that ho had been older, more blase, or more Pharisaical, so that at least, like the priest in tlie golden pai-able, he miglit haV(^ turned up the whites of his eyes, as priests are woiiv to do when tempted, and have gone on the other side of the way. For one brief instant he dallied with corruption, one mo ment he spoke the temptress, and — alas, that it should be so ! — he may have been on the point of yielding to the unholy impulse. In that instant a carriage rolled along, and Hugh Desmond, as he lifted his eye-i toward the passing vehicle, found his glance returned by the Lady TJlanche Meadows. Tearing himself away from the mocking siren, the young man hurried back to his lodging. And here ends the lirst chapter of this veiacious chronicle. T, the chronicler, am but the medium by and through whom the narrative must be conveyed. Now and then, dear reader, J may clioose to pretermit my editorial dignity, and, taking you into my confidence, address you as my bosom friend. Therefore it is that, while deploring my hero's momentary •weakness, I venture to assure you that my experience of UPON THIS ROCK. la issuredly yet been Who and ang other lot one of jen ! — but • principal ny, one of if young better be ,ve degree, en, God or purse may id been in had reason ,vas in that r, and, like io the play, ^ice that on nphs whose uldthat he that at have oni. to do the way. n, one mo- uld be so ! the unholy and Hugh ng vehicle, Meadows, oung man human nature convinces me that the Apostle did well to warn those who are most erect to take heed lest they fall. Verily, this world is full of snares and pitfalls, which only a St. An- touy or an omphalopsychite can avoid. so night chronicle. i)U"h whom ■ear reader, Ind, taking lorn friend. Inomentary jerience of CHAPTER II. IWHEREIN WE FIND A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, AND SOME CHURCHES. THIS history, like the Pentateuch, introduces its man full grown. Unlike Adam, howevei-, our protagonist was >nce a baby, although, like the first Hebrew novelist, we have [found it convenient in our first chapter to start with our little 'orld in complete working order. Were this a mere novel or romance we fear the critics would come down upon us for laring to introduce our hero to the world nineteen years sub- sequent to his introduction to the reader. Whether or not all [listory be what the dying Sir Robert Walpole described it as jing, we neither know nor care. Inasmuch, however, as this listory can only be written by us, we claim the right to follow )ur own humour in its narration, leaving the reader, if dis- gusted, to do with the narrative as ho wills. At two in the morning Hugh Desmond first saw the light. ft was late in the month of September, — the golden harvest- lonth of merrie England, — when this addition to the quar- terly return of births of the registrar of the little Devonshire Ishing-town of Torweston-on-the-Sea might have been, and no pubt was, recorded by that official. Having been submitted the secret initiatory process known only to doctors, nurses, [nd other ministers of Lucina, by which from time immemorial lildren have been introduced to this stage whereon their 3ven acts are played, he was forthwith displayed to an ad- liring circle of relatives and friends, and declared, according an equally venerable custom, to be an uncommonly fine lild. A critical eye, — suppose that of a bachelor or t oinster fifty, — might have cavilled at this judgment had it seen our jro a few hours after his appearance, lying by his mother's le and perhaps enjoying his first excursion in the flowery id of dreams. A little red lump of ab .t fifteen inches ig, with something whitey-brown, resembling the incipient liskers of a tyro of seventeen, on the upper portion of its u u UPON THIS ROCK. surface, resting in a hollow of the pillow, was as much unlike one's preconceptions of what a fine child should be as anything in nature. But the nurse's fiat, together with the grand- mother's endorsement, had gone forth, and, like the decrees of the Medes and Persians, could not be disputed or revoked. Leaving the little stranger to his first draught of human nature's great restorative, let us say something respecting his parentage. Patrick Desmond, first mate of the good ship " Freedom," of Salcombe, was the eldest son of an Irish soldier who, about twenty-five years before, had been stationed at Torweston in command of a detachment of forty soldiers, to aid in suppress- ing those bold defrauders of England's revenue, the Devon- shire smugglers. Lieutenant, or by courtesy Captain, Des- mond had not been in Torweston six months ere he, like a true Irishman, fell in love with and married a certain Miss Leigh, whose only jointure was a pretty face. When his de- tachment was ordered to headquarters, the captain, being loth to leave Torweston, resigned or sold his commission, and with a light heart and not very heavy pocket resolved to begin life anew. He had some time before purchased of a retiring blacksmith hh house, forge, and stock in trade, consisting of two sledge hammers, a bellows (said to have once cost, in some remote era, five pounds), an anvil, a few small tools, and a heap of old iron. With these assets, Desmond, doffing his scarlet tutiic, set up as a complete master of the art and mystery of farriery, re^jiiring grapnels, ploughs, mattocks and spieules, de- pending, we suppose, like Tubal Gain, upon his mother-wit to •V^rride any difficulty. At any rate, he soon made it appar- ent that be had a natural taste for working in metals, and ahtiost every boy in Torweston oame to him for mighty jew's- htir][M of Ma own manu&oture^ on which they twanged so in- cessantly that theiir mothera — had they only known the classics — ijUight have d^raied each urdiin an Orpheus bringing special mUflrc dii:^ frbia hell! As time rolled on, Desmond found hiliiself EtiikSter of a good buaiaeea, proprietor in part of a trad- iIl|^ sohoonAr, the "Preedon," and ithole and sole owner and fi^ltte of eiglit strong. lK>y« Mid two girls. Though himself »^ Oatholio in tiellffiofi, he quieUy sabmitted to hit wife's dete^ | aiitiJktion that the ciiildteia dioohi be edvcated in the tenets oP W^Mleira&iftin, so Ckr m tfauwe miglit be acquired by » very irtlBigwaIr at'tendaaoe at tbe ijtethodiat Sunday-ochooL UPON THIS ROCK. 15 ■,■; The only time when the little, crooked, dirty streets of Toiweston betrayed anything like animation was in the latter part of summer, generally in August and part of September. Not only did the leaders of the many religious sects of the town, — each, as became Christians convinced of their doctrines, erous." Tlie season had been unusually active, and the town was alive with persons, male and female, young and old, vDgaged, or interested, in catching, landing, curing, buying or selling the wealth-producing pilchard. Wliether he over- exerted himself, or whether it was really fatty degeneration of the heart, we cannot positively declare, but Garret Desmond, e\-cavalry oificer, blacksmith and fiuherman, the tallest and strongest man, perhaps, in Devonshire, fell dead, without a word of previous complaint, in the stem of his boat, the " Prosperous." Am a parent, Desmond, though affectionate, had been a luartiuet. After hia untimely death the impetuouB natures of his boys proved too strong for merely maternal restraint. l>oubtle8^, the necessity innposed upon them of earning their own living was the principal eause that led to the separation <^ the boys. The eideet^ Patrick, went on board the " Free- a master-mason, one shipwright, a retired London chemist (of Torweston extraction and the scion of a really old Devonshire family), and, perhaps, a few others. The next order in the TorwpstOn body politic comprised all the wives of sea-captains, propi tutors of fishing boats and nets, private schoolmasters (throe or four in number), and cultivators of small portions of ^aucL Tli« third class was also the n)OSt numorons. aincp it 18 UPON THIS ROCK. / •mbraoed all the fishermen, sailors, and workmen of the place. Of oounse, the Pariahs were, as in right and propriety they should be, the oppidi fosces^ the paupers and poor-house inhabitants. In the second of these classes the mother of our hero was, jiut about the time of his birth, the undisputed leader of fashion, and she was, therefore, one to be consulted by the trustees, ministers and superintendents of the Bible Christian meeting-house, — we really beg pardon, we meant chapel, — which she had, since her marriage, consistently and warmly supported. Here it must be noted that in Torweston there was a due gradation among the sects in point of fashion and respect- ability. Thus the Wesleyans were the cream of the town — it is remarkable that the most salient feature in modern Wes- leyanism is its great respectability — with trustees of acknow- ledged wealth and weight, who were all members of the first estate, the aristoi. The best house in the town was set apart far their minister, a house dignified by the suggestive name of The Cot, and with a green mound in front traversed by two ascending zig-zag paths raised at every angle formed by its acute deflections by three steps, each thirty inches long. The Cot itself was a prettily built cottage, having a gravelled terrace along its best side, and a small orchard and kitchen girden in the rear. Upf n the terrace was a piazza or corridor, covered with what looked like sections of green umbrellas, supported by the backbones of herrings painted yellow. The other sects never presumed to rival the Wesleyans in general respectability, though the contentions of the Bryanites, Independents and Reformers all arose from their each desir- ing to be what turfites call a good second. The meanest, because the poorest, religious body in Torweston was formed by the members of the Established Church. The majority of these were paupers, besides whom were a dozen farm labourers and three substantial tenant farmers from the farthest verge of the pariahf who thought it their duty to be of the same religion as their landlord, tlie great squire of the next parish, whose word was law, he being a country magistrate, and whose income was thirteen thousand pounds a year, six hundred of which came out of Torweston under the name of the " great tithe," besides various other hundreds which he received by way of rent ''^bifc formed the general congregation on UPON THIS SOOIL ii Sundays, when the weather was fine ; but it frequently bi^ p«neiDates were, one by one, called up ; then the boys of another class were summoned, and still Hugh had not been asked to approach Mr. Dunn. There vere twenty books now left on the tables — Hugh had counted them — now seventeen ; now thirteen ; now eight. Which of these was his ? There were now but four. Hugh was proudly calculating that the last of the pile, a bright, green-covered, tempting book, would be his, and revelling in the anticipated delight its pages would afiford him, when lo 1 it . oS gone, and the truth at last broke upon him, dispelling, as truth always dispels, the visionary castle he had been building. Poor child ! Well indeed for thee if this should be the only coveted prize thou art destined to lose ; well indeed if this should prove thy first and last renunciation 1 And now some of the trustees and teachers made sundry littl<) speeches commending the boys in general for their good behaviour and regular attendance. At length Hugh's teacher, the stuttering pilot, had the floor, and Hugh found himself an object of great interest- indeed. Wondering what it was all about, he began to listen to the orator, who was, as the child shrewdly conjectured, holding forth for his especial benefit. The speech being nearly ended, Hugh only caught the last few sentences. " This •*• n-no-not obey-ay-ing the comman'ment. Lying in bd-be-bed on the Sab-Sabbath, neg-lecting Sun-Sunday school is breaking it. ^lay-playing marvels (marbles 1) Sundays is a sin. Whoev-ever gives into th-th-that will lose no-not only the reward, but also lo-lose his soul. Yon must either be the Devil's child or God's." Observing that general attention was directed to where he sat., little Hugh was sharp enough to think he had discovered the reason of his being unrewarded. Though he pretended not to feel at all hurt and strove to look as uninterested and unconcerned as possible, the boy was sorely grieved at heart. It was his first sorrow, gentle reader : marvel not that when school was over the child ran home, and, burying his face in his mother's lap, wept bitterly. Happy, indeed, are those who can thus find consolation in a mother's love, who can fly thiUier, as to a haven, from the scorn and contumely of the world. And when, in the full prime of manhood, reason forces vti, to renounce all lot and portion in the system of rewards which Bible Christianity holds up before us as bribes 16 UPON Tflyfl ROCK. to secure our allegiance to imposture, may we not wisely torn to Nature, the univer. .al Alma Mater, in unwavering confi- dence, knowing that her mighty heart is throbbing with afiection for each and all her children t She imposes no arbitrary requirements on us to be accepted without inquiry or investigation ; but our reason sooner or later assures us that i follow Nature in all things is sure to result in the fulness of rational holiness, in soundness of body and mind. •' Through the shadow of the globe " the race is sweeping onward to the glorious future when man will have shaken off authoritarianism and its rewards and punishments ; and when we have learned to stand erect and walk forward without the idle incentives of celestial crowns and heavenly harpings, without the stultifying bugbears of infernal fires and eternal association with devils, then we shall consign the monarch's sceptre and the policeman's baton to the bonfire with which man will celebrate his emancipation. I CHAPTER IV. IN WHICH THE USB OF TEA DOES NOT PROUOTB TBBT0TALI8M. AFOBTNIGHT after the rewards had been distributed to the children of the Sunday school, the long-talked- of public tea was given. The chapel, as the meeting-house was called, was transformed as by the wand of some enchanter into a refreshment-room capable of administering inward con- solation to four hundred hungry and thirsty persons. Fifty new deal boards, fresh from the carpenter, had been stretched along and over the pews, and even the sanctum sanctorum of the trustees' corner had been invaded by the zealous donors and arrangers of those tables of good cheer. Each board wba covered with a snow-white linen cloth, and when seen by the light of countless composite candles the whole scene was most alluring. Mountains of saffron-tinted cake, sierras of buttered muffins, pyramids of bread-and-butter, lofty urns, refulgent tea-pots, knives, spoons, glass and china, — oh, it was magnifi- cent. And then the flowers ! Roses, lilies, tulips, geraniums, carnations, pinks, and pelargoniums — flowers red, white, blue, purple and yellow, all these and more were there. But they were all grrden flowers. Of course they were. Nothing as as coal t>ar c ibovi ;ind '•heei I'nouj wood Harec l)reez like i lailn al)ou Imilii si^, ffugl justic sub-t woul( tiaie, DP09 THIS ROCK. 27 nely turn ng oonfi- ling with aposes no it inquiry bSBures us lit in the tnd mind. sweeping shaken ofi and when ithout the harpingB, nd eternal monarch's rith which BTOTALISIi. listrihuted ^ng-talked* iting-house I enchanter award oon- )ns. Fifty 1 stretched nctorum of ous donors 1 board wan keen by the ,e was most of buttered , refulgent as magnifi* geraniums, «rhite, blue, But they . Nothing vulgar enough to grow in the green meadows and hedges of Devonshire could be allowed to stand on one of the tables. The Torweston ladies know how to do it, and knew also what to admit and what to exclude. If the preparations within were magnificent, the scene without in the charel-yard was calculated to strike the spec- tator with awe. The vestry, — a little room in the rear of the chapel, — had been turned into an ante-room for the ladies, and now looked like a pawnbroker's office or a second-hand clothes shop. But the shawls, pelisses, and bonnets with which the little place was choked were in no danger of mildew, moth, or rust. There was no tire in the vestry, but the place was so hot that the very walls seemed parched and withered as though a thousand simooms or siroccos had been concen- trated in his alembic by some cunning alchemist and then blown into the open door and window. The cause might have been seen by a glance into the yard. The vestry, though lower than the foundation of the chapel, was yet a part of that building. Its gables were in the same direction as those of the main edifice, but the place itself was so small that it could only be seen by a person standing in the yard. A huge tire had been lit outside the vestry, the walls serving admirably as a support for the ponderous blocks of wood and lumps of coal that flamed and crackled in the breeze. A long, stout bar of iron had been hammered into the vestry-wall some feet above the fire, and from this there hung a number of boilers and kettles designed to boil the water for the " cup that cheers." At one side of the fire stood a heap of coal large enough to overload a barge, at the other a pile of old ship- wood that would make a woodman stare. And while the fire tlared and spluttered, and, when a pufF of the gentle se.v breeze ventured to approach, threw up a shower of sparks, like a burning hay-stack or Vesuvius in a passion with the railroad by which it is profaned, men and boys were bustling about, some throvingon coal or billets, others taking away the lioiling kettles, which were at once replaced l)y others of every size, shape and material — copper, iron and tin. Mr. Dunn, Hugh's teacher, was in command of the firemen, and, to do him justice, seemed as contented and busy a.s Vulcan or any other sub-terrestrial stoker. To compare so good a man to the Devil would be a most unrighteous proceeding, and, at the same time, a veiy inapt comparison, inasmuch as wo understand 28 UPON THI8 ROCK. that for some years Satan's office of supreme fireman has become something of a sinecure, his whilome best patrons among Presbyterian and Baptist preachers having, for certain all-sufficient reasons, deemed it right to renounce their stock in the once powerful "ring" which controlled and dispensed the peculiar product of the lambent lake of Pandemonium. Yet a ship's cook in the tropics was never as hot as Mr. Dunn in all his glory. To a cool man it was terrible to see how this brave pilot and his subordinates dashed in and out among the flames and sparks and smoke as calmly as though they were clothed in asbestos. If the cool man had been a Bryanite it is probable that thoughts of the fate which befell the firemen of the great king Nebuchadnezzar would have rushed to his mind and then and there induced him to remonstrate with Mr. Dunn. But no cool man was there. All the spectators, — a pretty fair sprinkling of whom were hungry boys who hoped to earn by their readiness in carrying coal or water a slice or two of cake and a cup of tea when all was over, — seemed to be possessed by the Fire Spirit himself. They ran and danced and shouted as long and as Icud as if the art of lighting a fire had been lost to the world, and Mr. Dunn was the Prometheus who had succeeded in bringing it from heaven. No wonder that the vestry 'vas hot. The very sandstone blocks in the walls were beginning to crack, as though they had a mind to melt like lead but did not know quite how to set about it. Not even his dislike of the pilot could prevent Hugh Desmond from going to see the fire. Stealing from his mother's side, our hero ran into the yard, where he stood and clapped his hands in admiration. Mr. Dunn at once caught sight of his delinquent pupil, and he seemed to think the occasion a fitting one to read him a lesson, using the fire as an illustration. " A big fire, eli ? " ho cried. " Well, this is like what there is in the Bad Place for little boys who don't like Sunday- school." If the rebuke and admonition were untimely, the reply, coming from so young a boy, could scarcely be deemed the retort courteous. " If this be like hell, Mr. Dutni, you make a good presiding minister." Saying this, the boy nin back to the chapel, half afraid that he had committed some dire ofTence both against the rigid pilot and the high and mighty Print^e Beelzel>v>b IT UPOH THIS ROOK. out it. int Hugh from his stood and ice caught think the ;he fire as vhat there e Sunday- the reply, eemed tlie presiding hapel, half )th against lieelzeV»\il> :i himsell As for Mr. Dunn, his slow wits had to pause ere they could fully comprehend the sting administered in the answer made to him. When at last he saw the meaning, his ruddy face grew suddenly redder, and for a moment he felt hotter than the fire he so carefully tended. " Ah 1 " he said ; " that boy is a sharper ; ha 1-looks like his gra-grandfather, the Hirisnman ; I ho-ope he will turn out as well." Inside the chapel, seated at the head of his mother's table, Hugh was enjoying himself immensely. Mrs. Desmond, intent on achieving a signal victory over the two pious ladies whose table was directly opposite, was busy ministering to the wants of the ten who, defying the allurements of the tables nearer the door, had seated themselves at her board. The good lady's face shone with pride, pleasure and satisfaction. The extraordinary exertions of the past month had proved suc- cessful ; her table was the best in the room. Glass, china, plate and flowers were faultless. Her tea was the strongest, her cake the yellowest, her muffins the orispest, and her Devon shire cream the colour of gold. The two pious ladies were nowhere, and as full of envy as two pious ladies could be. The Rev. Charles Oatt, the chapel superintendent, Mr. Dunn (a nephew of the pilot), two local preachers and their wives, four trustees, and little Hugh were enjoying the creature comforts at her table. Unquestionably Mrs. Desmond's pride was justified, seeing that the patricians of the Bible Christians thus honoured her board. At intervals, while the tea was cooling, all eyes were turned to Mrs. Desmond's table, where the lions were eating and drinking like ordinary people. When Mr. Catt spoke (which he often did with his articulation slightly impeded by cake and muffin) every ear was turned to ■ catch the important sounds. When he directed his handsome eyes " of living coal " across the tables, scores of the fairest daughters of Torweston endeavoured to catch and return his glance. Oh, how much was Mrs. Desmond envied, oritieized and hated for the superior attractions of her table t The two pious ladies complained of the heat Of course they were hot, — envy kept them warm. The Rev. Charles Catt, for a time subduing the fires of iiis lustrous orbs, devoted himself manfully to the work before him. In attacking the comestibles tlie reverend gentlemaa Afforded a noMe example to those around him. Hb iaoe so UPON THIS ROOM. fairly glowed with excitement and perspiration, as well it might, seeing that his prowess as a tea-drinker more than equalled thai of Dr. Johnson. At his right hand sat little Hugh, who also was doing his best, although there can be no doubt that his enjoyment would not have been lessened had Mr. Catt and the local preachers been somewhere on a mission up the Congo, or elsewhere. The popular minister had dis- posed of six wedges of cake, four muffins, considerably modified the appearance of a plate of bread and butter, besides dis- posing of four cups of tea, before even the edge seemed to have been taken off his appetite. As soon, however, as his immediate necessities had been provided for, he graciously condescended to converse with those around him who, like himself, seemed inclined to desist from the fray. It chan#eer8on Mr. Dunn stood nearly six feet high, and he was gracefully though strongly built. His age was sixty-three or sixty-four, although he seemed to be little more than fifty. His walk was as springy and elastic as that of a young man of twenty, and his tall form was erect as a pine. From his childhood he had never tasted beer or brandy, nothing that could intoxicate had tver passed his lips. But every man has his hobby, and the pilot had his. Had he been content to ride it with less noise ,ind ostentation, Mr. Dunn's favourite horse would have made him a pleasanter neighbour and a more agreeable pilot, though perhaps not so famous a man. Mr. Dunn's hobby was Teeto- talisra. He rode it everywhere. On the coast of Devonshire, thirty miles east and west of Torweston, he was known as The Teetotal Pilot. He was President of the local Band of Hope, in which capacity he enlisted Teetotal recruits, attended Teetotal meetings, and corresponded with the United Kingdom Alliance. Conscious of the defect of speech under which he laboured, he rar .ly ventured to speak in public exc^vt before an audience of his fellow townsmen. But on these occasions he spoke with much warmth and even grace. He had never married, but he dwelt with his sister and two nephews, — botli of whom were Teetotalers and stammerers in a less degree, — in a high wooden house on the northern wharf of the harbour. His life had ever been held up as an example to the young, iiiid his word was never broken or called in question. Apart tVom his Teetotalism, on which he was as intolerant as one of Cronnvell's Ironsides, his heart was open and his manners were unassuming and gentle. " We were talking, me and Hu<»h," — Mr. Catt's gramnar was of a kind now growing obsolet,e, — "of temperance, Mr. Dunn. My little friend was saying that our meeting was more attractive than the public house," The reverend gentleman had very kindly given our hero the credit of this proposition. This shows either his great humility, or that he was, like some other great men, a little absent in mind. " Did he say so ? " Mr. Dunn put his hand on our hero's head, and looking in his face with a pleasant smile illumining / ■.i rfTT If OPOir TBIt ItOOS. his wefttber-beftten features, he repeated, "Did he say so? Why, Hugh, my man, why do you not join the Band of Hoope t Wait ; I have a tio-ticket in my pocket ; take this pencil and sign your name in that comer, over the little black line." The pilot, busy in doing tiie work he thought it his mission to perform, permitted his voice to rise above the subdued tone l>:riptT to tea-parties. In his eagerness he had almost for- gotten to stammer, so that all in the vicinity of Mrs. Des- mond's table became aware that Mr. Dunn was about to enlist another follower beneath the banner of Temperance. Hugh once again found himself the centre of observation in the meeting-house. His mother, elated at the idea of her son taking the pledge before so many p^K>ple, came forward to encourage him. But our hero was not so ready to write as Mr. Dunn expected he would have been. Mrs. Desmond, knowing his handwriting was not so excellent as his reading, put the pencil between his fingers, and asked if she should steady his hand. To her surprise he answered that he did not want to sign at all. The two pious ladies smiled at each other, and then held up their hands and shut their eyes. " N-not sign f " stammered Mr. Dunn ; " and why not, Hugh?" " Will you not become a Teetotaler ? " said Mr. Catt. " Because," said the boy, " father says it's all nonsense ; Knd if I cannot keep sober without it, writing my name will do me no good." This declaration was a great effort for r shy child like our hero. Its effect was instantaneous. B ^laam was not more astonished when addressed by that useful and well-known animal which costermongers patronize and Jesus loved, than was the Teetotal chieftain at Hugh's outburst. "Hugh," he ejaculated, "you are a nau-naughty boy, and your father is — " " What is his father, Mr. Dunn t " asked Mrs. Desmond, — It must be confessed in a tone of carnal indignation. " I hope /ou have nothing to say that can hurt him in good name or common respect t " " Hush, Mrs. Desmond " whispered Mr. Catt. " Mr. Dunn means no harm, I am 8ur<^" The minister, — blessed oleaginous in»B that he was, — had poured oil upon the troubled waters. I I that ftpon mil Boot. not, " I hare only this to s-saj, ma'am," said the pilot,—*' that if your-your hus-husband m-m-means to bring up his child as a dru-nnkard, he is a dis-g-g-grace to-to the town." This was petroleum upon the fire. Mr. Dunn, having wrought himself into a state in which he perspired freely, Arose from the table and went out to his dying fire to cool himself again . On looking to where the pious ladies were standing, Mrs. Desmond was in time to see the lifting of the hands, the shut- ting of the eyes, and the lock of righteous horror and pity on all sides turned toward her delinquent offspring. It was enough. Like an unpopular cabinet minister, she had con- siderad her position. On the next Sunday morning Hugh was sitting by his mother in a large, white-painted, horse-box-like pew in the old parish church of Torweston, listening to the Rev. Richard Lewis Griffiths, who was reading with due solemnity a sermon on Baptismal Regeneration. The die was oast 1 Mrs. Desmond was a member of the Established Church of England. Her revenge was complete. And here, reader, were I a theologian or a moralizer, I might indulge in various sage reflections upon the mysterious ways of Providence. It does seem strange that so much machinery should have been put in motion merely to throw a woman and her child into the bosom of the Anglican Church. Yes ; but I pray you to reflect upon the great mystery of Revelation ; to bear in mind that countless millions of human beings have suflTered and been condemned ; that Nature has been convulsed, and the God of Nature nailed to a cross for hypocritbS and priests and mercenaries to scorn and for Semites to spit at ; and all merely that a portion of that God's creation should be rescued from the malignity of one fallen angel. Truly, man's methods are not those of the Christian's Deity. CHAPTER V. WH3BBIN aOD AND MAMMON VANQUISH LOVB. I think, Juvenal who makes the Roman people ex- claim that they had made Fortune a goddess. Seeing that the modest citizens of the Empire City were wont to re- tail divine honours almost as freely as in the United States a TTi8,I 1 claii that the i u t7l*0N tail ROOK. new President dispenses his patronage, I do not doubt that the blind old lady obtained her goddess-ship upon easy terms. I would, however, fain inquire who first appointed for man- kind the standard by which it measures its heroes ? Occult and modest Heroism^ how often art thcu in our very midst, in attic, or cellar, or cottage, — on the crowded street, on the treacherous ocean, or Deatli-defiantly standing firm and reso- lute with hand pressed on the throttle of the Iron Horse, — cheval de bataille of our modern civilization ! — oftener still dost thou walk noiselessly along the wards of the hospital where typhus, variola, or the grim tyrant Cholera number their victims by the score. More rarely art thou present on the tented field of war, save when perchance some Hampden, Warren, Kosciusko, or Bozzarin goes forth like Leonidas, to show the world how Liberty incarnate must yield to death ere it can triumph. Thy favoured dwelUng-place, however, *hy chosen haunt is where gaunt Hunger and squalid Vice are looked down upon by the twinkling stars that shine alike im- partially on cabin and palace, and whose mystery is alike unknown to the unpoetic, unabstract discoverer of asteroids and to the infant who has learned to call them angels' eyes. Who shall say that thou dost not prefer the Magdalenes and the Pariahs to the pure, immaculate Zenobias and the Olympic and Pythian victors whose brows have been crowned with wreaths and whose ears have drunk the seductive wine of ode, strophe, and antistrophel It may even be that the poor country curate was something of a hero, or that he had within him some of the materials of which heroes are compounded. Mompesson and George Herbert were both mere parsons, but if self-denial and the practical living of that high altruism which so many writers of this age have praised so beautifully and forcibly be heroic, then these men were heroes, even thougk their heroism were prompted by motives which wisdom no longer recognizes as being well grounded. Some years before the dale at which this life-story commences, a fisher-boat was anchored outside a Devonshire haven, and immediately deserted by its crew, who carried with them the alarming intelligence that one of their mates lay dying on board the craft, stricken by cholera. Along that coast, peopled by men whose courage and daring were celebrated throughout the world, there w«« found no fisherman or sailor bold enough to board tfes% little boat. Yet one man there was on whos*^ eft?a the call of dut)i UPOIf THIS KOOK. 39 did not fall unheeded. This was the curate, Mr. Griffiths, who sculled his dingy out of the harbour, and administered what solace and refreshniont he deemed needful to the poor sufferer, and who afterwards with his own hands consigned his body to the sea. The story did not find its way into the papers, but its lesson was not lost upon a people who, though they did not love the Church of England, knew how to honour and respect gallantry and devotion to duty wherever shown. In person Mr. Griffiths was tall, yet not remarkably so, and as slenderly proportioned as sculptors represent Apollo, although no eye could discover about him anything angular or thin. In early manhood he must have been even beautiful, and now in his fortieth year he was much more likely to inspire affection than the majority of the young men of the century, who appear to know no intervening period between youth and bald-headed age. To know him it was but necessary to see him in church or among the school-children : in the one place he was the teacher conscious of the priesthood h* considered of divine authorization ; among chi'dren he was himself a child. Soon after his ordination, Mr. Griffiths had fallen in love, and, with the ardour of his Cymrian blood, had proposed, was accepted, and was preparing to lead the lady to the altar, when an unforseen difference of opinion led to his renunciation of the bonds of Hymen, and to an action for breach of promise. In matters marital the trite old saying has it that like and oinlike are always bound together — this being perhaps Nature's anti-homceopathic nostrum for the cure of love. In this case the axiom would probably have been ful- filled, and two persons of antithetical tastes and disposition would have been united had the marriage been performed. The evening before the morning appointed for the wedding found the young curate strolling with the bride-elect down a f:;reen Devonshire lane. The setting sun had by its cunning alchemy converted the western sky into a sea of molten gold ; but the beauteous sunset, the perfume of honeysuckle and sweetbriar, and the never-ceasing roll of the distant sea were, each and all, unheeded by the lovers. Busy thoughts of a bright and happy future engrossed their minds, and were striving to find expression in words. They were basking in the sunlight of life's meridian Ijour — the radiance that is never repeated, the light of a pure first love — the only pure one. Such passions are the true Platonic, and where they are once 36 UPON THIS ROOK. kindled they abideantil death,— except when, •■ often happens, marriage has reduced them to a caput mortuum^ the chemical residuum of lova " Alice," said the curate, " there is yet another blessiog, ' another addition to my cup of happiness, which I shall find ii(^ you." ^ "Nay, Richard ; if you continue your praises I fear I shall grow vain. But what new perfection have you discovered ? " " Darling, you know my income is but small, and that 1 have had during the winter to trench upon the eight hundred pounds left me by my father. Our poor are very unthrifty ; and though in summer their earnings are very considerable, in winter they are well-nigh starving. With your two thousand pounds God will enable us to preserve my little flock from extreme privation. Happy meed, to become the treaHurers and custodians of Christ's poor." " Yes," said Alice, " yes, Richard ; we can be wisely, mode- rately charitable. But we should do wrong to encourage the fishermen and their wives in their unthrifty ways. We must not offer a premium to wastefulness and improvidence." A slight look of pain passed over the young curate's hand some face ; it went, however, as quickly as it came, and left him serene but thoughtful. He no longer looked into his companion's eyes ; his gaze was steadily bent upon the far-oH aureola that marked where the Lightgiver had gone to rest Another and a more powerful l9ve now occupied his mind,- the love to which from childhood he had dedicated himself. — the love of the poor and lowly for whom, as he believed, Christ had died. "Alice," he said, after a brief silence, "I have often thought how great are the responsibilities attached to the possession of moitey. Thus, my love, I have sometimes almost wished that your wealth had not been so great. We will, however, ask God's grace so to dispense it as to merit the reward of the good servant who used his lord''* talents well. What with the poor, the church, and th« schoc -house, we shall, I doubt not, find our wealth only too limited." " But, Richard, we must, I fear, curb our geiierosity, until at least you have obtained a vicarage, — Lord Gherston was your crouy at Christ Church, and he has many good livings in his gift, — or until my father's decease. In future, OTir first duty will be to ourselves ;; — the parishioners \wfb the vicar Gi col UPOH THIS BOOK. 87 »ppen«, neinic»l lessing, find ii>^ I shall ^ered 1 ' that 1 lundred thrifty ; fable, in housand jk from easurers y, mode- rage the Ve must a." b's hand and left into hii- le far-oH I to rest mind,- himseli believed, |ve oftei) to the 3s almost We will, nerit the mts well, lonse, we ity, until ston was liringa in our first the vicar %nd the wealthy families to organize any charitable relief that may be required to supplement the poor-rates. In fact, dear, my father was so apprehensive of your too generous spirit, »nd of your inability to resist thr petitions of our poor, — «eho8e onthrift and waste in the summer months cannot be too severely condemned, — that he determined to keep my two thousand pounds within my own controL It is not my desire, dear Richard, although, as I know your too confiding diipofli- tion, I cannot think my father to blame." The brow, face, and neck of the young Welshman flushed scarlet, and then grew bloodless as those of *. corpse. The lady was an Englishwoman, and doubtless spoko by a kind of hereditary instinct such as becomes those who are to be the mothers of a nation of shop-keepers, a nation that has offered as holocausts to Mammon oceans of human blood in every quarter of the earth. Such an instinct, however, had no correlative in the curate's nature. Within his veins flowed the best blood of the Principality, and the great god of Com- merce which has demolished the battlements of so many feudal strongholds and invaded so many aristocratical homes in much the same manner a^s Jove entered the palace of Acri- sius, had not come near him. His father was a Welsh squire, who had studied but never practised medicine ; his two brothers were, one a captain in the Royal Welsh Fusiliers, the other a chaplain in the Navy. The world in which he had been educated, the world in which he had dreamed, prayed, fasted, and laboured, was long anterior to that of the nineteenth century, and the commercial jargon of economy with which we — whether storekeepers, bankers, or bishops — are now so familiar, grated on his ear like the friction of a »aw and a file. The provident foresight of the lady's parent, and still more her calm, business-like tone of approval, awoke in his mind a strong revulsion. It was as if Owen Glendower or " Hotspur " Percy had been confronted with a Rothschild, a Vanderbilt, or the archetype of a member of the Congress of the United States or the British Parliament. The Alice of yesterday was the creation of his imagination, the idol had been shattered, the gold had become clay. Three mouths afterwards the Reverend Richard Lewis Griffiths was, in an undefended action for breach of promise, condemned in damages — three hundred pounds and costs. Thirteen years after this episode, Mr. Oriffiths, now ip t % 96 UPON THIS ROOK. print's orders, was appointed to Torweston as curate-in-charge or locum tenens during the illness of the vicar. In those thirteen years he had officiated in very many of the parishes of Devon and Cornwall, making friends wherever he dwelt, earning the respect of those who differed from and disliked hie religious tenets, and even awing and temporarily subduing the lawless and flagitious. His majestic bearing, his long nut- brown beard and moustache, and the unmistakable air of true worth and gentlemanly instincts, — now, unhappily, so rarely seen even in the highest places, — all nmde him a marked man. The humble labourer, as he wended his way home under Lis faggot of firewood, forgot to be churlish when the " parson " gave him " Good-night ! *' and the stiff and starchy Indepen- dent, — more Calvinistic than John Calvin the Burner himself, — condescended almost to smile when he appeared. Neither to her great wealth nor to her learning is the Church of Eng- land so mucli indebted for the respect of the masses as to the fact that she numbers among her servants so many men like this. No other church or religious denomination can here challenge her supremacy, — tonsured heads, cassocks, birettas, and white neckcloths may abound, but nature's gentlemen are I'are. The secession of Mrs. Desmond to the Established Church made nearly as much stir in the religious circles of Torweston as is caused throughout the British Empire by the 'going over " of a bevy of young marquises or embryo parsons to the Church of Rome. Like those more eminent converts or per- verts, — the reader can choose which designation he may con- sider the proper one, — she had little to renounce but a great deal to accept, though even in this she early discovered that in her new church thr '* rule of faith " was so very elastic that it included various not altogeth*^r recoiiciieable beliefs. She had no penance to make, no creed to recite or abjuration to de- claim. She changed her religion as easily as she did her bonnet, merely by walking on Sundays in a direction opposite to that which she had formerly pursued. No politician ever changed side - more gracefully or had better reasons for com- miserating his quondam friends. Of course it was not pique but simple conviction. She had been christened in tlie church, ---she was too young a neophyte to use the word baptized, — married in church, and always thought the church was, after all, " the right place." Having thus usiserteJ her hereditary I i a 7A to stn rea to thel othi anc Mi i UPON THIS HOCK. .19 right to church membership, it followed that in renouncing the Bryanites she had only been returning to her allegiance. The ratiocination was good enough for a change of religion, — much weaker logic has been heard from metamorphosed politicians and from Radicals converted to Toryism or OpT ortunism by the magic accolade. In due time Hugh was admitted into the church school, where he continued until he was twelve years old. Here he rapidly acquired the elements of reading and writing, although his arithmetical reputation was at a very low degree. His father, determined to prepare him for a sailor, advised that he should now be consigned to the more pretentious academy of an elderly mariner, celebrated for his ability in teaching the science of navigation. In his youth Captain William Topp had been somewhat of a rakehell and debauchee. Aft«r in- heriting an annuity of sixty pounds he, however, renounced his vocation and set up as an "independent gentleman." Whether he grew tired of idleness, or whether he found his annuity less elastic than he had imagined, was best known to himself j the town, however, soon learned with surprise that Captain Topp and his sister — a spinster lady who also en- joyed an annuity — had simultaneously been converted to the doctrines of John Calvin, admitted to fellowship by the leaders of the Independents, and — were going to open a high class school. For once rumour belied her reputation ; the report w.'i8 true. The school v.'as duly opened, and the master had no reason to complain of a lack of pupils. The chief dishes on which Captain Topp fed the rising genius of Torwestou were arithmetic, English history and navigation — Miss Topp devoting her attention to imparting the rudiments of French. Captain Topp and his new pupil contrived, on the whole, to get on well together. A constant attendance on the minis- trations of Mr. Griffiths had resulted in making Hugh'e mother a zealous church woman. But her zeal was comparatively frigid to that of her son. From the first the clergyman had been struck with the boy's intelligence and extraordinary love of reading. The library at the vicarage had been thrown open to him, and among a mass of miscellaneous church literature the boy had eagerly devoured the historical tales of Oresley and others. The very air he breathed seemed to be ecclesiastical, and Mr. Griffiths was so delighted that he even proposed to Mrs. Dwmond that h« should be allowed to adopt her son and 46 DPOK TBI8 ROOK. :!• to train him for the priesthood. For a moment gratified pride swelled the mother's bosom, but "the love stronger than death" intervened to prevent the separation. Oaptain Topp was somewhat of a disciplinarian. At times he was wont to demonstrate to any refractory pupil' by means of what suspiciously resembled a miniature cat-o'-nine-tails, that he was " master of his own ship." Like some other ship- masters, however, he would frequently unbend and \ elax the severity of his discipline Elspecially was this the case when he had before him the class in English history. The text- books were, for the juniors Goldsmith, for the seniors an abridgment of Hume. On these occasions the worthy peda- gogue was anxious that no opinion in opposition to his own views of civil and religious liberty should pass unchallenged. In dealing with the Stuart monarchy he was vehement in his denunciations of the alliance between Church and King. Allowing, nay, even inviting, his pupils to express any thought that occurred to them, it was not long before Oaptain Topp discovered that though all his other pupils were Roundheads there was at least one pronounced Cavalier among them. The schoolmaster, being somewhat of a fanatic, laboured earaestly to eradicate from Hugh's mind the seed of High Ohurchism, but with little or no success. Respect for Oaptain Topp doubtless restrained the boy in the discussions, but he himself thought he was generally the victor in these disputes ; and there can be no question that the ex-mariner was much more zealous than argumentative. The other pupils, naturally enough, took to their respective homes an exaggerated report of the verbal combats between Captain Topp and young Desmond, and public opinion soon averred that the boy was a " regular Roman Catholic." Mr. Griffiths was one afternoon, — it was a half-holiday at Mr. Topp's — at Mrs. Desmond's house, when Hugh came down from his little bedroom, a sanctum devoted to reading and ■oribbling, with a copy of " Jacob Faithful " in his hand. After blessing him with great solemnity the worthy prieet looked at the book and asked the boy whether he liked it or not " Yefl, sir," answered Hugh, " but there are many sentences I do not understand. The Dominie talks Latin, and I do wish I could read it." ** Mrs. Desmond," said the clergyman, " it is a pity that . V. iir soil an oroif THIS ROCK. 41 1 pride death" \, times means le-tails, Br ship- lax the le when le text- iors an Ilia own .Uenged. t in his i King, thought in Topp indheads em. The jaraestly urchism, in Topp e himself tea ; and ich more laturally ed report d young )oy was a loliday at skme down iding and [lis hand, ihy priest iked it or sentences I do wish pity tut Hugh should have to go to sea. Shall we try to make ■oin»' thing better than a sailor of him ? " " With my consent, Mr. Griffiths, he shall never venture on tiie water. As yet he is but a child, and I only send him to Mr. Topp's that he may learn all he can ; but he shall never go to sea." " I think, Mrs. Desmond, we can teach him something better than navigation. When next I come down, I slmll bring him a Latin Grammar, and he shall take daily lessons from me." To the young mind bent on learning such promises as these are not lost sight of or forgotten, and Hugh took care to remind Mr. Griffiths that he had prom.ised to teach him Latin. A fortnight later a copy of " King Edward VL," fresh from the shelves of Albemarle street, was placed in the hands of the delighted boy. Navigation and Mr. Topp, latitude and longitude, right-ascension and declination, were each and all forgotten. Hugh Desmond was Mr. Griffiths' daily pupil, sharing his meals, his walks, and his prayers ; declining, con- jugating, and parsing ; learning at one and the same time a language older than Ciiristianity and to love and reverence the " Anglican Branch of the Catholic and Apostolic Church." Dear reader, knowest thou whether at such turning-points of life the course we follow be taken by chance, or whether, — as many of the best and reputed wisest of our race have deemed, — the foet of the traveller be directed by a Conscious Being, in whom we and the universe are comprehended 7 However this maji bo, is it not certain that we live in the shadow of tlie mile-posts of our youth 1 Surely, this much is certain, although the bilence responds not to our questioning ;inci we hear but the echo of like questions that have been asked since man became a thing of mind. CHAPTER VI. ly WHICH CUPID nORKOWS AN ARROW PROM THE APOSTLE PAUL. THE days of our youth, alas, how fleeting they are ! In after years they are with us only as a memory. With sorrowful pleasure w(5 recall, when the back is bent and the hair silvered, the bright and sunny hours when care and anxiety -vcre almost unkno'.rn, thn joyous dnys of innor-cnue !1 TT" 42 UPOK TH18 BOCK. and purity with their sweet associations of gunny uieadows, shady woods, and rambles by the river or by the ever-heaving sea. Whether we regard ourselves as pressing onward to immortality or as drawing near to the Nirvana of endless quietude, there is not one who does not at times sigh with Gerald Griffin for the " dear old times when we were young and free." Our after life is often a long and dreary record, a bead-roll of errors, sorrows, and turbulent p/issions ; youth is a fragrant, flower-pied lawn, over which Memory may roam at pleasure, finding little to vex or grieve the mind. /^ tip to his seventeenth year Hugh Desmond had been but a' pinnace following in the wake of the parent ship. In some respects he was almost a recluse, nnd he had not yet begun to experience the adolescent in)pulse to oppose the parental re- straint as a positive tyranny. He often absented himself for days from Mr. (jriffiths', spending long hours alone with his books, poring and dreaming over the speculations of school- men and theologians, the names of whom are rarely heard of now. This disposition of his son Captain Desmond had unin- tentionally fostered by his habit of purchasing, in every town he visited, old books in every language and on every subject. Of late his visits to Torwe.ston had been rather more frequent, and each time he had been more and more surprised at the attainments and learning of Hugh. At the boy's own request he spent much money in old books, and the bookstall that bore an aged, yellow-leather covered volume would be sure to be ransacked if Captain Desmond passod tha^way. At times Mr. Griffiths almost repented having interfered with Hugh's education. The boy !iad devoted himself so e.'irnestly to mental culture as to render it more than doubtful whether he would be capable of struggling with the world. The gossips of the town called him the Hermit, and shook their heads, with a gravity worthy of Lord Burleigh, at the rai*e appearance of the lad in tho streets. Mr. Dunn, the pilot, furnished a clue to the chatterboxes which served to explain much that was mysterious in the boy's character. The veteran teetotaler publicly proclaimed his conviction that Hugh had fallen a victim to the insidious snares and wiles of Mr. Griffiths, the parson, who had, according to the sagacious pilot, succeeded in making a Roman Catholic of the boy. This theory was generally accepted, much to Mrs. Desmond's dis- gust and indignation. Then, as now, the rural population of UPON THIS ROCK. 48 erfered self 80 Dubtful world, shook at the m, the ved to The that iviles of zacious r. This d's dis- ition of England looked ankance and suspiciously at Bomaniats, and doubtless the good mother was correct in apprehending that this calumny might seriously irnpede her son's start in life. The waters of the English Cliannel, to the ears of those who live thereby, murmur a strain no less patriotic than the wave- lets of Salamis whispered to the citizens of Athens ; they te'l of the brave days of old, when the embattled forces of priest- craft and despotic fanaticism found swift and sure destruction at the hands of the Englishman. The columns of the county paper were every week closely scanned in Torweston, and as Hugh wrote almost every week a long letter to this organ of Devonshire opir ion he gradually became a person of note in the district. These letters were mainly antiquarian or theological, and, as those of the latter character were very High Church in tone, they greatly strengthened the Torweston belief in the Papistical doctrines of the writer. A few of the Illuminati of the place, — the In- dependent minister, Captain Topp, and a Mr. Calfton, a draper and haberdasher who studied politics and lecturod on religion, — ventured to enter the arena of epistolary warfare wivh our hero. Their efforts were unsuccessful in a remarbable degree. Hugh's command of language and wonderful references to authors and volumes, of whose names his opponents were ignorant, completely routed the allied powers, and thencefor- ward the young student, although often hotly engaged with some unknown adversary, found no one of his fellow-townsmen to controvert his speculations. They were, if anything, proud to find their li tie parish honoured by the weekly letter, and when they read the epistles of Hugh's opponents and saw the respect therein paid to his controversial powers, they, too, began to praise and admire his genius, although they loudly and vehemently reprobated his Popish errors. About this period Mr. Gritliths was offered a rectory on the border of Eixmoor, the living being in the gift of his whilonie college friend, Lord Cherstou. Almost the last thing he did in Torweston was to procure for our hero a situation as assis- tant master in a grammar school in an inland town about twenty miles away. Tlie youth himself had avowed a desire to go to St. Augustine's, Canterbury, to prepare himself for a missionary; and subsequently this plan had been renounced, and a nomination had 'ooen procured to the prelirnirmry ex • mination for ilw otlice of Paymaster's ClerV \u th# Il.jyal u UPON THIS ROOK. Navy, — this scheme being brought to nought by an untimely attack of brain fever, which left Hugh too weak and feeble for the customary examination. Mrs. Desmond warmly seconded the clergyman in advising her son to accept the situation offered him. While her husband lived she knew Hugh would never want, but some time ago she had discovered a small, button-like formation in the left breast, and a visit to the county infirmary had revealed the dread fact that she was suffering from cancer. From that moment she knew that she stood face to face with Death. Day by daj went by and the mother neglected no duty, omitted no item of the routine of her little household. All went on as usual, as though no grim spectres were ever present to the mind's eye of the guiding spirit of the house. His mother's serenity prevented Hugh from attaching grave importance to her ail- ment. For him there were the same solicitude, the same smile, the every-ready kis& Only, ah the shadow of the in- evitable parting grew more and ;-ioi. ^Istinct before her did the mother's affection for the only cniid of her heart become more manifest in every action, ■"c^^'d, and tone : the love that Death could not terrify allowed i. si^, ., lo falling tear to darken the few weeks or months of inieioourse that, as she knew too well, remained to the mother and the son. — They tell us of the Spartan women, — pshaw 1 As our race advances farther and farther toward the recognition of man's true place as the highest cognizable thing or being in Nature, how miserably savage and brutal appears the love of the Spartan mother in comparison with the affection burning within the bosoms of the mothers of to-day 1 • • t • • • • At length the pinnace was adrift on the ocean of the world ; well for it should it prove that the inexperienced steerer was apt to learn how to control its movements. If living were merely drifting, how easy it were to live I • * • • • 'ihe grammar school at Culm Tor was founded by Jolm Drake in the reign of tlie sixth Edward. By no means a rich endowment, the principal, George Toynbee, B.A., was glad to supplement his meagre income with the salary paid to him as actuary of the local Savings Bank. During the last quarter of the scholastic year Mr. Toynbwe was little other than a mere presence in lh« class-room, his magisterial de.sk and his UPON TH18 ROCR. a cerebrum being alike well-nigh exclusively occupied by a hag% ledger and numerous piles of foolscap, blue-ruled, and w>^ certain columns on the right hand capped with the potent letters '*£ s. d." Hugh Desmond, despite his disadvantages of yout'.i and inexperience, succeeded fairly well in his office. Jn Mrs. Toynbee he found a willing and ready auxiliary. She appeared to pity the fragile-looking, tall, and handsome young man who contrived on the whole to govern so ably sixty or seventy youngsters, many of whom were very rough diamonds indeed ; and so, whenever the principal was absent at the bank or involved in the mazes of computing the savings and interest thereupon of the farmers and tradesmen of the neigh- bourhood, either Mrs. Toynbee or her niece relieved the young assistant by assuming the control of the junior classes. The Toynbees were very devotional High Church people. In his deportment, conversation, and weekly communication in the paper, Desmond was so excellent a Churchman and l^ory that it is not surprising the childless schoolmaster and his wife came to love him. The rector of Culm Tor was one of those conscientious ministers who held that when the IVayer-book prescribed that the order of morning and evening prayer should be said " daily throughout the year," it meant what it said. These week-day services were fairly well at- tended, except in harvest, when the labourers were kept late in the fields. Every evening a party from the grammar school WAS at church, and though it sometimes happened that Mr. Toynbee was detained at home by the all-absorbing ledger and fo)lscap, his niece. Miss Edith Allyn, and the assistant master wwe always present. After " evensong," Mr. Toynbee some- times unbent himself over the chess-board, those ubiquitous accounts not unfrequently co-operating to his ignominious checkmating by Hugh. Edith Allyn was a year older than our hero. Her mother, Mrs. Toynbee's sister, had long been belle-regnant in North Devon, and the young scions of the county families were astounded when the " Northcote Lily " became the wife of the poor curate of Morchard Cross. True, tlie clergyman was of good family, but then the Lily liad had offers from baronets, squires, high clerical dignit;iries (including even fox-huntinj,' Jack Russell himself), a Cabinet Minister, and others. All ami sundry of these men of mould and substiince expres cH wouder at the lady's choice, but old Coppleston, of Umberleigb Ji 46 UPON THIS ROCK. Manor, ivho had hunted Exmoor when George the Third was king, sagely declared that experience had taught him that women and foxes invariably yielded when the Church cried Tally bo ! The Rev. Charles AUyn died three years after his maf riage, leaving but two memorials of his exintence behind him in his infant daughter and a very able treatise on " Materialism Re- futed by a Consideration of the Structure of the Body and the Faculties of the Mind." His widow did not survive him quite two years, and almost with her latest breath she con- signed the little Edith to the guardianship of her sister, Mrs, Toynbee. This good lady was at least nine years older than her sister ; she had never been a belle, and probably had never received an offer of marriage before the principal of Culm Tor grammar school made a proposal. Childless them- selves, this excellent couple giadly accepted the trust, and most sacredly did they fulfil the obligation. The child was carefully, though not showily, educated at her uncle's expense, Mr. Toynbee being resolved that the funded property which was her inheritance should not be trenched upon until she was of age. From her mother Edith also inherited the gift of rare beauty, — a dainty little figure, exquisitely moulded, large brown eyes, heavily fringed and shaded, and tresses of long chestnut hair, which the sunlight irradiated into the richest, warmest bronze. Ordinarily quiet and rererved in demeanour, at times she fairly bubbled over with Uierriment, her eyes, beneath their long lashes, betokening a fervent and passionate nature. Next to a half-holiday, the junior boys dearly loved to see Mr. Toynbe* plunge iieadlong into the troubled waters of the big ledger, and to have the assistant master assume the management of the upper forms. On these occasions Mrs. Toynbee and Edith came to the class-room, and the juniors gladly welcomed the change. Young Fevre, the surgeon's son, would, at such times, excel his former self as a perpetrator of witticisms^, while Glasson, the abnormally dull boy, was en couraged to creep out of his shell. The youngsters thought Desmond proud, and they knew instinctively that he did not possess the almost parental soiititude and sympathy in their well-being which the true pretoptor should always have. Though free from tension, his disciplinu was steadfast and certain, and boys generally prefer u master less vigilant and DPON THIS ROCK. 47 circumspect tliough perhaps occasionally much more striiigent and exacting. One afternoon — the ledger being, of course, on the meridian, — young Fevre was proposing to Edith a series of time- lionoured "corkers," as he termed them, such as, What would be the result, mathematically defined, of the collision between an irresistible body in motion and an immovable post on a plain ? Miss AUyn smiled, — she could hardly avoid laughing, — at the gravity with which the youngster asked his ludicrous question. "Nonsense, Fevre Junior; do you propound such absurd conundrums to Mr. Desmond ? " " Mr. Deynond," replied the boy, " is no joker. He looks you through and through, while he does not seem to be thinking of you. If I tried to make iiira laugh, the joke would become au icicle on my lips. I wonder if he has bargained away his Uucrh, just as Peter What's-his-name did his shadow 1 Glasson, liowe>r" made him smile the other day." "Indeeo" «»aid Miss AUyn; "then it would seem that Master Glasson, whom you especially, Fevre, treat so super- ciliously, is succesbf"-' ^•'here you are afraid to venture." " None of the fellows T.-^'e tried to rival him. Miss Allyn. I am sure that, so far as I am u-^'^^ued, he is heartily welcome to the pre-eminence." " Prettily expressed, Master Fevre ; do you study all these pretty sentences over night? May I request the favour from your Sarcastic Serenity of hearing wherein Master Glasson so distinguished himself?" "'Twas during the exam, on the reign of Elizabeth. Glas.sy was asked why Babington conspired, and he answered that it was to make the Pope king of England. Mr. Desmond fairly smiled, and told poor Glassy that he was nearly as well qualified to write history as some other imbeciles who haJ dragged the Popes into every machination against English liberty. When I told this to Phil," — who was Fevre Senior. • — " he said that Mr. Desmond was writing in the Mercury Against the Reformation, and that some of the Seniors thought he was more than half a Romanist." " Nonsense, Fevre," replied the young lady, " Mr. Desmond is a sound Churchman, and I am surprised at such idle gossip- ing among the seniors. Surely you ought to know that 18 OPON THIS ROCK. English Cathohos oondt;iiin much of the popular prejadioe Against the Bishop of Rome." " Yes, Miss Edith, I know," answered the boy ; " but pa says that some of these High Anglicans are carrying on bo fast that before long they will subvert the old Church rlto- gether. Do you know that the rector has adopted the eastward position, and that Mr. Monk, the churchwarden, is going to write to the bishop about it f " " I hope Mr. Monk will have more sense, Fevre Junior ; but let us mind our own business ; I see Mr. Toynbee looking in this direction." As the months went by Hugh Desmond became almost like one of the Toynbee family. In Mrs. Toynbee he almost recog- nized a second mother, while his feeling toward Edith he had never analyzed. Though fond of solitude, he often accompanied her in her walks, and his greatest delight was to sit near her every evening while they practised on the harmonium varioua melodies from " Hymns Ancient and Modem." Callow fledg- ling that he was, he never thought of love. Hitherto his pulses had never vibrated to th ) touch of passion ; the Keltic temperament lay underneath, however, and religious fervour and eroticism are seldom kept asunder. Women have been called the devout sex mainly because of reasons that are readily explained by physiology ; with both sexes, however, the same natural impulses, uncomprehended, often find utterance in fanaticism until Nature restores the equilibrium by providing for the normal exercise of functions which cannot safely be neglected or despised as mere brutish instincts. The youth of sanguine and ardent temperament, — robustus puer, — may find in athletic exercises an outlet for the passion which would otherwise exhaust and consume him like a secret fire, — quas narrart fudori est. The very excesses into which be falliare condonea and mitigated by the general healthfulness and mental equipoise which they induce. They are generally Nature's means of correcting the overweening egoism and ideal arrogance of the period of storm and stress, and they rarely leave behind them the brand of dishonour, or serious grounds for regret or sorrow when the plastic age has given way to naatnritv Utterly unconscious of the passion which the saints whom he so much admired Had done their utmost to fan into raging voloanoes within their own bosoms by with- drawiiQpi th«mMlv*« !foir bunam) irtortmmy P»unT>oiid'|i UPON THIS ROCK. 49 ftssociation with Edith AUyn seemed to be one of pure friend- ship and ahnost of brotherhood. With a temperament no less high-strung and " poetic," Edith, however, possessed a woman's intuition, and while carefully refraining from an analysis of her own feelings, she knew well that her interest in the young teacher was essentially different from that of a sister or friend. Zenobia, of Palmyra, who is said to have, — like some modern ladies, but for a different reason, — loathed her husband's endearments, would probably have passed unscathed at heart, " in maiden meditation fancy free," through such an experi- ence. Edith, however, was not a Zenobia, but a warm-hearted, glowing English maiden, by nature loving and to be lov'^d. As the tendrils of the vine, responsive to the warm breath of Spring, entwine themselves around the prop to which natural impulse has made them incline, so did her friendship for Desmond, though unacknowledged even within her own mind develop into affection. Whether or not " concealment, like a worm i' the bud," would have long preyed " on her damask cheek," I, to whom it has fallen to narrate this life history, cannot determine. I know that in fashionable, character-delineating novels the fine ladies and gentlemen are represented as forming their attach- ments conformably to a settled rule or principle, the progress of their affections being traceable in the gradual evolution of mental affinity as manifested in the region of Art, — the cultus of Shakespeare and the musical glasses. Unfortunately, neither Hugh nor Edith were sufficiently acquainted with tho [canting jargon which has now usurped the position formerly occupied by more solid, if less ostentatious, acquirements, to 'admit of such a genteel expansion of mutual regard. Accident, however, provided a key to unlock the hitherto unexplored recesses of that nature which is so mysterious in its loftiness, [SO amazing in its kinship to the lowly and the base. It chanced one evening that Mr. Toynbee, who had found it [impossible to attend evensong, and whose application to his accounts had so fatigued him as to leave him unfit for the uiental exertion of chess, requested Edith to read the Psalms land Lessons. The Church of England is honourably distin- Iguished above all the churches in Christendom by the niodera- Itioii, judgment and even reasonableness of its members. |^^'llile believing, as their Articles of Religion declare, that I" Holy Scripture oontaineth all thijigs necessary to salvation," 4 50 UPON THIS ROCK. "N thosj show tliemsolvos sonsiblr of the truth that no inoonfiidfr- ahh" portion of th;it Sc»i turc is much njoro natural than refined. At the period, however, when tliis Chuich was rescued from the nie.shes of the net of falsehood and fabrication thrown over it b}' the Papacy in the Dark A<;es, the Calvinistio extrava;i;anc(! was powerful (Miough in Kti^jland to impose its own odd tlieories of inspiration on the minds of both prie.sts and people. Tin; Church, emancipated from the .superstitions of Home, iMicanu; sonjewhat of a victim of lUbliolatry, and for centuries, — that is to say, until the appearance of a higher (Titicism, — little or lu. discrimination was exeicised between the moral portions of the Bible and those other sections which might well and profitably liave been kept in tTie background as being calculated to promote neither the interests of morality nor a temperate religion. Thus it happens that the one book- in the world which demands careful expurgation to be fitted! for popular use is thrust into the hands of young and old, to supply food for the prurient imagination and to withdraw tlif veil frouj tsis long before prudence would counsel its removal, Reclining in his well-worn easy chair Mr. Toynbee seemed a somewhat bald-headed saint in broadcloth. As Edith repeated the last Gloria at the end of tlie Psalms, a close observer would! surely have mist(»wer of her own body, but the husband : ;ind likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, lnit the wiff A little inore than tliis tlie aba.shed and all too-conscious maiden essayerl to read. Gentle reader, you and I, sophisti- cated and (.'aKe-hardened by 1<^MJ5 years of e.Kperienoe and discipline, could have heard Paul's opinions upon matrimony as stolidly as though they referred to the Deiian Problem of tlie duplication of the cube. Edith Allyn, however, was an unsophisticated country girl, who had proV>ably never sart in a box at a theatre simulating unconsciousness while the lewdest jests and double-mean ingH of Shakespeare were recited by actors who refused to *' mutilate the bard." Above all, she even felt the inciden<;e of the keen gaze of those dark, medi- tative eyes, llebelling or protesting against their intluenco, she endeavou "*d to encounter them with the composure of unconscious Alas, the attempt was not a success, — once a^'ain the ' ,'» betrayed tiie sensibility which gave them lijrth, — and Kdith read for the first time, in a book no less \('iitaljle than all thf^ Iiible« of all the religions of mankind, the revelation of a man's vehement, glowing love. Header, were this a fashionable novel, I might now surfeit thine ear with love speeches. Inasmuch, however, as it is only what it professes to be, — a life-history, — I have but to ^■tate that on this eventful evening no such speeches were made. Moreover, honoured reader, I may now impart to thee nn'ne own inipression and belief, — namely, that when Love's re\ elation is first made to two young human hearts, the tongue is very liabh; to a sort of temporary paralysis. Kdith Allyn closed her iJible, bowed to Desmonrl, who had also risen from liis chair, and then left the room. Mr. Toyn- bee awoke from his RlumVjer, expressing his apprehension that luudi of the la.st lesson had been lost by him. Mrs. 'roynl)e(% with her work-basket, 'danced at the clock with ictui'iung 62 UPON THIS ROCK. some surprise that her absence had been long enough to allow the Lessons to be read and a discussion on Freemasonry to arise between the gentlemen. CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH KING SOLOMON PLAYS THE DEVIL. THE days were drawing on toward Christmas, and the boarders at Culm Tor were already preparing for the vacation. The annual '' exhibition " had taken place, the prizes and commendations been duly distributed, and the scholarship at Oxford most honourably and brilliantly achieved j by Philip Fevre, whose construing of the oration, Pollakh j meyi ede egoge, in the third book of Thucydides, had elicited an emphatic " Well done ! " from grim old Fullmer, a Fellow of Exeter, who conducted the examination. Among the Juniors, Glasson had also distinguished himself by an essay on the "Armada," the perusal of which left Mr. Fullmer inj doubt wh«aj>'ier Pope Sextus, Philip II., or Elizabeth com- manded the Spanish fleet. On St. Thomas's Day, Mr. and Mrs. Toynbee had accepted I an invitation to take tea at Dr. Fevre's, the surgeon bBingl elated at the academical triumph of his eldest olive branchj Desmond had passed the afternoon in completing his prepara-f tions for departure on the ensuing day. His books and papers! were carefully packed in a small sheet iron trunk, all but onej or two quarto sheets on which some music had been neatlyj copied. Through the half-opened door the strains of Edith'sj sweet voice came borne on the tones of the harmonium, likej an evening zephyr borne to shore on the gentle undulatioml of the sea. The tune was one that Desmond knew well,— j " St. George,"— " Yea, faith can pierce the cloud Which veils Thy glory now ; We hail Thee God before v ' ose Throne The angels prostrate ' ** A silent Teacher, Lom), Thou bid'st us not refuse To bear what flesh would have us shun, To shun what flesh would choose." ~r»»^^^ UPON THIS ROCK. 53 As the last of these lines met his ear, the young man knelt beside the trunk he had just filled, and, reverentially crossing himself on brow and bosom, ejaculated : " From all the deceits of the world, the flesh, and the devil, Good Lord, deliver us : amen ! " Taking up the music, he scanned it in great apparent doubt and hesitation, as though undecided whether to tear the paper, or to place it beside his other belongings in the box. Suddenly, however, his manner changed, and he proceeded toward the drawing-room with the manuscript held loosely in a roll. At the foot of the staircase he paused, struck with something approaching to awe at the spirit of absolute relin- quishment and submission thrown by Edith into those pathetic lines of Charlotte Elliot : *' Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me be still and murmur not, Or breathe the prayer divinely taught — ♦ Thy will be done.' *' What though in lonely grief I sigh. For friends beloved no longer nigh, Submissive would I still reply, ' Thy will be done.' *' If Thou should'st call me to resign What most Iprize, it ne'er was mine ; I only yield Thee what is Thine, ♦ Thy will be done.'" Waiting until the hymn was ended, Desmond entered the room. It wanted nearly an hour to evening, and the twilight still afforded enough light for Edith to read, even had she not known all the familiar tunes and hymns in the volume before her by heart. As she sat there in the shadowy gloaming of a winter eve, surely Desmond may be pardoned for his involun- tary conception of St. Cecilia. A more proficient testhetic, however, would have seen in the oval face and gracefully jioised head, the large, full, liquid eyes, and wealth of waving hair lather a model for an Ariadne. Much depends upon I the point of view, and upon whether the observer l)e an lunchorite or a man of the world. The short vermilion lips jwliose flexures form the line of beauty are, to the former, [appropriate rims- to the fountain of prayer and praise ; while [it is undeniable that others, who do not lay claim to the odour )f sanctity, pretend to regard them as possible sources of Boniething sweeter still. 54 UPON THIS ROCK. " Mr. Desmond," said Edith, " can you tell who originated the fiction that senior boys are the representatives and pre- servers of order 1 The upper forms are all away at Dr. Fevre's, — Philip would take no refusal, — and I do not think the old house was ever more quiet." " Nearly all the juniors are also absent on leave, Miss Allyn. They all have * chums ' among the day-boys, and Mr. Toynbee advised me to release them for a few hours, conditionally on assembling at evensong. Indeed, I think we are almost alone in the house, except for the servants. Will you pardon me for adding that I thought this a favourable opportunity for presenting a petition ? " " A petition, Mr. Desmond ? Is it duly set forth in that dangerous-looking manuscript? Let me ask you to waive the formality of presentation on bended knee." Poor little heart, why did it throb so tumultuously beneath the close-fitting habit ? and why were the Juno-orbs so inter- ested in the ivory keys of the harmonium ? Ah, reader, I question whether there be in all the pharmacopoeia a drug of sufficient potency to suppress the throbbings of a maiden's heart when he who has made it captive seems about to claim the prize. ** I am afraid you will laugh at me. Miss Allyn ; but I have ventured to a rrar.ge some music to words. You will find the notes a scrange medley of various chants and fragments of anthems. The words are, however, very beautiful ; and even though you laugh at the accompaniment, I do so hope you will sing it." Edith took the paper, which the young man had been rolling in a direction contrary to the original with a view to straight- ening it by virtue of the effect of opposing influences. As she slowly read the words, the colour rose to her cheeks, for surely never did human language more sweetly, mellifluously whisper of ardent affection ! " Mr, Desmond," said Edith, *' I fear you will have to suffer an infliction if I attempt this. Uncle always says my quan- tities horrify him if T only read a Latin quotation in the papers. Last Sunday the leader in the Guardian contained j a passage from tl>e Confession of Augsburg, which I under- 1 took to read, as Uncle very much wished to hear the article, j which was strongly anti-Roman. I had got as far as ' t I have find the ents of ,nd even ope you In rolling Istraight- As she lor surely whisper to suffer Imy qua"- >n in the lontained I under- le article, | .r as • dis- oaned in I anguish and said, ' That will do, dear ; skip the Latin, you pepper it rather too much/ Can we not effect a compromise, however ? Let me run it over once, and then we will execute it together, — that is, if you are not angry enough to execute nje for my wretched performance." Once, twice, thrice did Edith Allyn practise the music before her. The arrangement was scarcely a scientific one, and she knew by heart every source from which it was derived. While her fingers pressed the keys, however, she was mainly intent on the meaning of the words below the bars. The sentences burned their impress on her ready brain : they were, indeed, to be as fateful to her as were the finger-traced words to King Belshazzar. " Are you ready ? " she asked, without raising her eyes. " Yes, if you please," was the reply. Desmond stood with (lis left hand resting lightly on the harmonium, his tall form being slightly bent as the deepening twilight rendered the handwriting rather indistinct. His rich, deep voice thrilled through the maiden, and the breath that rustled her tresses seemed sweeter than an aromatic breeze. " Quam pulchra es, Arnica mea ! quam pulchra e». Oculi tui columbaruni, Capilli sicut gregea caprarum Quae ascenderunt de Galaad. • • • • " Sicut vitta coccinea labia tua, Et eloquium tuum dulce, Tota pulchra as, Amica mua, Et macula non est in te. Veui de Libano, sponsa uiea, Veni de Libano, veni. • • • , •* Vnlnorasti cor meum, Amica m«ft, • Vulnerasti me. In unn oculoruni tuorum vulncrasci, i Etin uno crine colli tui. Veni de Libano, spofiisa mea, Veni de Libano, veni. >);:: • Reader, if thou hast a Bible near at hand, turn to the fourth chapter of fdlomon'.s Song, and thoti wilt discover therein the source of Desmond '« anthem. Verily, Solomon's canliules were prompted T>y the .aost oriain»l and endusing of all religions. 56 UPON THIS ROCK. It is no disparagement of Edith's knowledge of the Bible to affirm that she did not seem to remember that the words sung by Desmond were drawn from that source. During the chanting she ventured once to look up at the singer to en- counter a gaze of eager affection. Edith's religion was stead- fast and unwavering ; a true daughter of the Church of Eng- land, her piety and devotion were lasting, not of a nature to quickly burn out or be consumed. Desmond, on the other hand, was a fanatic, his mind being in a continual excitation over his ideal Church of the first three centuries. I do not doubt that as he stood there he, in some subtle manner, identified the church with his beautiful companion, and, with the not unusual combination of eroticism and enthusiasm, apostrophized the lady whom he admired and the Church he 80 idealized and loved. " Behold, thou art fair, my love ; behold, thou art fair ! Thou art all fair, my love ; there is no spot in thee ! — Thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes ! " For a moment, when the singing had ended, Edith wished that she were at Dr. Fevre's, How ought she to receive this declara- tion of love ? it was, perhaps, very romantic to be wooed in such a manner, but the situation was considerably the more awkward and perplexing through being so conmiingled of poetry and sentimentalism. " Thank you ! " said Desmond : " The first ordeal beiiii; over, 1 find my diffidence changing to audacity. Miss AUyn, I invite my doom ; before you go you must let me have your verdict." Edith had left her seat, and Desmond while speaking placed i himself directly in front of her, his manner showing souiel solicitude lest the verdict he asked for should be refused. " My verdict?" answered Edith : "do you not exaggerate! the beauty you praise so highly ? " ^ " Here there can be no exaggeration. Miss AUyn. vVill- ingly, gladly do I oiler all that I have, all that I may b€J found capable of, to this l3eloved one. But, tell me, are not! the words somewhat too, — -'what shall I say ? — too voluptuouaj expressive of an emotionalism disagreeable in this connection? " Mr. Desmond, I was not prepared for this, — I cannot feigiij indifference ; yes, I love you ! " The fair speaker had hidden her face in her han^ls, whicii| ^'ere resting on Desmond's arm. As for our hero, he stoc RtrT' UPON THIS ROCK. 5t like one lienuinbed or paralyzed. For a time his voice seemed to fail him, he appeared to undergo an internal struggle, and when he spoke his tones were strangely tremulous and husky : " Love me ? Miss AUyn, Edith ! Great God, what a terrible misapprehension ! Edith, I am vowed to celibacy ; the words we have been singing are King Solomon's apostrophe to the Church. I thought you would have recognized them." Almost ere he knew it, Edith hastened from the room. Up the staircase she rushed, seeing absolutely nothing as she went, eager only to find a shelter, to be alone. Past the little oratory on the landing where hitherto she had carried every little vexation and annoyance, laying them all at the feet of Him whose eidolon hung there within the apse. Like the hurt fawn, Edith sought instinctively a covert where she might collect her thoughts. Something dreadful had happened, — she had made a horrible mistake, and had impetuously acted an unmaidenly, indiscreet part. How it all was she wanted to remember, — alone in her own apartment her mental confusion would subside and she would then be able to recall What had transpired. The door, as she remembered having left it, stood partly open, and rushing into the room the agitated maiden ran to the bedside and, falling on her knees, buried her throbbing forehead in the clothes. Hugh ]])esmond soon recovered from the surprise and aston- ishment produced by Edith's unexpected acknowledgment. However devoted to celibacy, his heart throbbed with delight as he thought of the revelation made to him. That he himself loved Edith he had long known but too well for his own internal peace. His ideal of perfection, a life of asceticism, had not, previous to his Arrival at Culm Tor, seemed so difficult of attainment. He had imagined it by no means a hard thing for a man, aided by Divine grace and fortified by the sacra- ments of the Church, to live an eremitical life even amid the bustle and turmoil of the nineteenth century. He had striven to " mortify his members upon etirth," and in the simplicity of his heart he had fondly thought he had won the victory ere lie had even crossed swords with the adversary which the saints of all ages had found most formidable and unsparing. And now, as he stood there sorely perplexed and confused, tliere suddenly flashed across his mind the memory of some old-world story of two ardent lovei-s ruthlessly separated in youth and who afterwards met only to discover that one was a veiled 58 UPON tnls nodK. /^ nun, — the "bride of Christ," — the other a tonsured priest. He remembered that these two had once more interchanged vows of affection, — not of that Eden-born, carnal affection which induces a man to " leave his father and his mother and cleave unto his wife," making of the twain *' Ciie flesh," but rather vows of a sublimated, rarefied aflection, not " of the earth, earthy," making of these two kindred souls one unified, super-terrestrial spirit, released from carnal lust and retaining only the sublimity of love. He would see Edith once more ))efore his departure, and they, too, would interchange vows of this nature. With Desmond decision and action were almost coincident. He would but consign the unlucky antliem to his trunk, and then he would seek Edith and persuade her to go with him to the oratory and pH^t their troth of sanctified, non-concu- piscent, ascetic love oefore the image of the Crucified One. Hardly had he entered his room when he became conscious tliat he Ayas not alone. Evening had now closed in, and even adjacent objects were quite indistinct and nebulous. Vision, however, was scarcely needed to inform Desmond of the true cause of the half suppressed signs of mental anguish that he heard. Gently, timorously, but with a tumultuous heart, he crossed the apartment. Yes, it was Edith. In the agitation and shock given to her modest nature, she had, after ascending the stairs, gone to the right instead of left of the little oratory, and had thus mistaken the apartment. Even yet her brain was in a whirl. What could she do ? how would it be possible for her and Desmond, — whom she now thought of with a sort of terror as though he were of a superior order of beings, — to live together under the same roof ? Above all, what must he think of her? How distinctly she remembered the many slight indications he had, in discoursing with her uncle, given of a secret persuasion that man's highest interests were retarded by the modern system of intercourse between the sexes, a system so radically opposite to that which obtained of old among people directly favoured and instructed by God. Henceforward these prejudices would be accentuated, and — terrible thought ! — he might even coine to regard her as the Eve that had tempted him to forego the joys of Paradise. A hand was laid upon the bowed head, and rested there caressingly. Ah, reader! I greatly question whether Pla.tonisui ever exerted so mysterious an influence over a troubled mind ! iiwiocen -^'Vnk f'le luos on the t it POSKlb UPON THIS KOCK. 69 •iest. nged ction r and ' but I tlie lifted, lining more owsof jident. k, and him to concu d One. nscious id even Vision, ;he true that he eart, he gitation cending oratory, er brain possible ,h a sort ngs,— to must he many le, given its were ■een the >btained by God. and— as the lise. led there fla.tonisni edi mind I She did not venture to raise her head until the firm, strong arm lifted her up. " Miss Ailyn, dear Edith, why are you so agitated ? I was going to ask you to grant me leave to tell all I feel and desire; but I am glad to find you here." " Here ? Oh, Mr. Desmond, am I not, — ? Surely this ia my room ? " " Nay, dearest, it is mine. No, you cannot fly away again leaving my tale unheard. Be seated, dear one, — nay, you must." The strong arm encircled her waist, and she was compelled to sit beside him, full of a nameless dread that both were on the brink of a precipice. " Edith, you have told me that you love me. You have also shown me the state of my own heart ; — I have long endeavoured to hide it from myself. I love you Edith : God grant I am not sinning in my love ! " " Mr. Desmond, — oh, Hugh, let me go to my own room, for Heaven's sake ! to-morrow we will explain all to each other." " To-morrow I leave Culm Tor : Edith, you must hear me." • ••••• • Kind and gentle reader, I hold you in great respect and esteem, so much so that I verily believe I could put myself to some slight inconvenience solely on your account. The details of that explanation of Platonic or spirit love I cannot, however, narrate. Whether or not I myself know them, it skills not to enquire. Let it suffice thee, therefore, to be told that Mr. Toynbee and his pupils did not meet the assistant master at evensong. On returning to the school, Mrs. Toynbee found that her niece had retired with a severe headache, while Desmond was absent, probably to complete his arrangements tor departing on the morrow. • • • • • • • • Night has fallen over Culm Tor, and the stars are shining brightly on the old grammar school of John Diake's foundation. •Mr. and Mrs. Toynbee and the boarders sleep the sleep of the innocent and tlie weary ; but prostrate in the oratory Edith .^'!yn keeps a vigil of tears and woe. The rays emitted from thu must refulgent star in the southern firmament strike full on the thorn-crowned head of the crucified, and almost render it possible to read the legend above it Lie lio Antlttuf>os, i'\n «• * 60 UPON THIS ROCK. lii: " Behold the Man." Whatever the crucifix, however, may suggest to the believer, whatever it may whisper of comfort and consolation, depend upon it, reader, that the young man who is by this same starlight pacing his room in self-accusing torture has begun to learn the great lesson of human history, — that creeds and philosophies, faiths and systems, invariably succumb when brought into collision with Nature, which conquers even when these creeds and systems are said to be supplemented by that which a Kempis tells us is the " special gift of God." It must be so, — the monk himself experienced it, — " Natura inclinat ad creaturas" though he adds " aed Gratia trahit ad Deum." fii CHAPTER VIII. IN WHICH MOTHER AND SON FIND PEACE. T T UGH Desmond did not, at the end of the vacation, re- J[ I sume his mastership at Culm Tor. His mother was rapidly drawing nearer to the dread portal through which all must pass, and for those two there could be no thought of separation until Death, the Arch-severer, came between them. In replying to Hugh's intimation that he must resign, Mr. and Mrs. Toynbee wrote kindly, sympathetic letters, in which they expressed an earnest hope that in time theii young friend might again become one of their household. That he had also written to Edith may be inferred from the following passages from a letter received by Desmond about a month before his mother's death : " Your allusions to the future, — your hopes and desires, — compel me to make one brief reference to the past. You re- member that monition in Hyperion : ' Look not mournfully into the past ; it conies not back again.' Let us both deter- mine to make of that past the foundation of an honourable, unstained future. For myself, I rely confidently on the means of grace to which the Church bids us have recourse ; and, Hugh, whatever I may be called upon to renounce, I shall never think of as a sacrifice. Even as I write, the evening's lesson aiTords mo present strength and consolation for all tliat yet may be. ' Thou hast forgiven the offence of thy people, and cov^ered all theii- sins. Thou hast taken away contini The th burifi where There shelter prefer continu surnati being d sides hi H prayc was aln n miles to it who c«ilt'- whose tiiiA ;er desire to father ecu 11- ,h Desnioiull westou tjiiit JIugh Desuioiid had been "conditionally" Impti/ed into tho lioman communion, and Mr. Dunn, the pilot, possessed the felicity of knowing that all along he had been a true prophet. This secession, however it may have been anticipated by the knowing one."!, created unwonted excitement in the commuTiity. Jt was discussed by the fishermen lounging on the Cliff, wliere they assembled daily while waiting for the tide to serve, and among these bearded and bronzed children of the Channel it was generally believed that young Desmond had already com- menced to form a collection of " images " for his own private and peculiar adoration. In the village reading-room, after the committee of that new institute had transacted the monthly ])usiness, the President, Mr. Calf ton, the treasurer, Captain Topp, and half-a-dozen other notables, spent more than an liour in con.sidering what course ought to be taken now that the Scarlet Woman had openly di-splayed lierself in their very midst. Finally, it was resolved that Mr. Calfton should deli- ver a lecture in the Independent chapel, the subject to be, ''Antichrist Identified with the Papacy," and the secretary of the reading-room undertook to send a report to the Mercury. Hitherto but few pupils had been withdrawn from Desmond because of his perversion. To be sure, their parents hated Romanism with all the antipathy of ignorance intensified by heredity, but so long as the young schoolmaster kept his doc- trines out of the daily teaching, and refrained from actual conflict with any of the denominations of the town and their leaders, he was likely to undergo no molestation or annoyance. The occasion, however, was a most opportune one for the leaders among the Independents to exhibit their ultra-Pro- testant zeal, and not even John Calvin himself was more zealous than were Mr. Calfton, Captain Topp, and the other celebrities and leaders of this rigid sect of predestinarians. The announcement of the forthcoming lecture, — it was placarded in large type on every dead wall throughout the district, — however our hero may have regarded it, considerably excited Lieutenant Wallace ; so much so, indeed, that he lost no time in calling on Desmond to ascertain what counter- measures, if any, were advisable to be taken (Df the two, the Lieutenant was by far the more eager on behalf of the Roman Church ; indeed, with Desmond, — as with the majority of converts, — it seemed that, having entered the fold, he had exchanged all his former intellectual activity and excitation .* iitJ 64 UPON THTR ROHK. for the opposite extreme of well-nigh intellectual torpor. In one respect he certainly was the better for the important step he hnd taken ; instead of sinning against his own body, as he had formerly done, by extreme jejunations and protracted vigils, he had learned to conform to the judicious discipline of the Roman communion, to the manifest improvement of his health ; while his mind, though less stimulated, was probably benefited commensurately and restored to a more even balance. On this particular Sunday evening the Lieutenant was cer- tainly much more polemically disposed than was his companion. They were pacing slowly along the Battery, a bold hill over- looking the harbour, affording a noble view of the Channel and of the various points of land which jutted out on both arms of the crescent-like coast. "I find," said the Lieutenant, " that the fame of Calfton's lecture has already spread beyond the confines of Torweston. Many of my neighbours have mentioned the matter to me, and yesterday I even found one of the posters pasted up at the back of my little stable, which is clearly a trespass. That, I take it, is not the only instance of this sort of people acting on the maxim they attribute to the Jesuits — of doing evil that good may ensue. I think, however, that the trespasser has been * hoist with his own petard.* What do you think I have done with the bill 1 " " Since posting it on your stable, without your permission having been obtained or even sought after, was unjustifiable, — and indeed an insult, as your opinions are well known in both parishes, — I presume that you tore the poster down," answered Desmond. " When I found the bill there, my first impi'lse was to tear it down," said the other, '* but on second thoughts I resolved to improve it. With some labour, I pieced together a number of capital letters from the head-lines of newspapers, so that the title of the proposed lecture now reads, — at least on my wall, — * Antichrist Identified with the Reformation.* What do you say to the amendment, eh ? " " I think I should scarcely have liked to misrepresent the opinions — belief, if you like — of the lecturer. Mr. Calfton is a bigot, — not less so in politics than in religion, — and insuffer- ably vain and conceited, but his sincerity is unquestioned. However, I sometimes imagine that you and your neighbours in Tormavy enjoy these little skirmishes, and therefore yom ttpON TiriH ROCK. 65 In itep B he ctcd leof ; his >ably knee. J cer- ,nion. over- annel I both lfton'8 eston. le, and at the Chat, I acting viX that iser has I have lission itifiable, lown in down," I5 to tear Iresolved number that the ly wall, hat do mt the Jalfton is Jnsuffer- lestioned. jighbours Eore you' alteration of the poster, if noticed, will probably be ronsidcred a gocKl joke. At any rate, if refuted in no other manner, the Indopeiidentii will assuredly exult over an easy victory." " * If noticed,' you say," replied the Lieutenant ; '* let me bell you that yesterday evening I discovered a small crowd of at least thirty persons reading that particular poster." *• Indeed, Mr. Wallace ! Caxton himself never achieved such an immediate triumph with his typography. Thirty persons assembled in Tormavy and no justice of the peace nearer than the vicar of Torweston to read, if necessary, the Riot Act ! " '' Well, I suppose I must confess that the crowd was not composed of my fellow parishioners. Your friends of Culm Tor, — the grammar school boys, — had an excursion to the seaside yesterday. I saw your friend Toynbee, — indeed, he appeared very interested in the poster on the wall, though some of the youngsters appeared rather puzzled over my emendation of it." '* Indeed,' said Desmond, somewhat eagerly, " were any ladies among the excursionists 1 " •' Oh, yes, quite a number ; it struck me that my joke was highly appreciated by Toynbee and his friends. They are all High Church people, of course ? Ritualists, eh 7 " " Yes, indeed, all very High Church," replied Desmond somewhat absently. After a moment's pause he continued : " But how do you know the party knew it to be a joke 1 I thought you said your newspaper capitals defied detection." *' No, no, my friend ; I did not go quite so far. There was at least one pair of eyes bright enough to make Falsehood itself ashamed. Quite a Boadicea, I assure you. But surely you must know the lady, — Toynbee's niece 1 " " Edith — Miss Allyn ? " replied the schoolmaster, " was she there ? Know her ? why yes, of course ; but your notion of Boadicea strikes me as being queer. Boadicea with brown eyes and rather below medium height ? " " Well, well, I withdraw my comparison. I did not know you were h, g ' on — shall I say the * points ' 1 — of your lady frie U Yes, the poster was the medium of my introduction t i-oynbees.' And, as usua , you soon got more or less involved in con- tt\ ersy m> ith your new friends, I suppose 1 " " No, i deed," said the lieutenant ; "on the contrary, when 5 i .■■'. k«ii tPON tHlS ROCK. \ > I told why the ultra-Protestants of Torwestou were so exftrciseJ in mind, Mr. Toynbee said he sympathized with you, and lioped you would live the persecution down. Ah, it was easy to see what he thinks of Calvinism." " I very much regret that any mention was made of me in connection with Calf ton and his bigotry," answered Desmond. " Tut, tut, my young friend," said the other, " of course people will talk of you. Because you have made your peace with the Church you must of necessity be at war with heresy, and for a long time our sweet and courteous fanatics will howl themselves hoarse over your lapse into idolatry, as they call it. By-the-bye, however, — I had well nigh forgotten it, — I may say that I was almost commissioned to convey a message to you from the owner of those brown eyes you spoke of." "A message? — to me? — from Miss AUyn ? '* faltered Desmond. *' Well, it was almost a message, as I said. The young lady asked if I knew you ; I said you were my most intimate friend. Did I know if Mr. Desmond aspired to the priesthood, as, she thought, many perverts did 'i^— I assure you she said ' perverts,' but were I as young as you are I would essay to make so pretty a mouth use a better ternx. I said I was not quite sure, — perhaps it, in some ire the purest branch ofc' the Church Catholic, yet we all, — uncle, aunt, and I, — we all know that in this matter he has followed conscientiously what he considered the plain path of duty. You may tell him this, if you please. We hope that God will bless him always.' By Jove, that is a rare girl ! more devout than controversial, I fancy. She ought to be a nun, — what a fine ' superior ' she would make I — such women are only spoiled by marriage." Whatever his feelings were, or what bis thoughts, Desmond was silent regarding Edith. His friend the lieutenant was an excellent confidant on matters theological ; but, after all is said, I am sure that deep down in our hero's inmost nature there was oud memory-hallowed shrine the veil from which no father-confessor could draw aside. And so the conversation reverted to Mr. Calfton and his UPON THIS ROCK. 67 lecture, the result being tliat both DesDinnd and Lieutenant Wallace were present when Mr. Calfton fulminated against Rome. Confident in their cau40, the promoters of the meeting desired any Roman Catholics, if any were in attendance^ to speak, whereupon Hugh advanced to the platform. Wisely recognizing that his time was limited, he devoted fifteen minutes to the historical claims of the Roman Church, appeal- ing fervently to his hearers not to forget that their forefathers were Catholics centuries before either Calvin, or Luther was lx)m. In conclusion, he roundly asserted that the very Bible so reverenced by Protestants was the gift of the Catholic Church to mankind, and that without the Church's authoriza- tion the canonical scriptures would never have been disting- uished from the numerous forgeries of heretical impostors. The lieutenant followed with a very caustic speech, directed mainly against the luminaries of the Reformation. This speech awoke some ill feeling, while Desmond's made the greater impression. Mr. Calfton's reply was singularly ineffective, that worthy polemic being evidently better in attack than in defence. To Desmond, however, this public controversy worked an unhappy result in the almost immediate withdrawal of all his pupils. Evidently his career as a schoolmaster in Torweston was ended. For a time he struj^gled bravely to live down tbe prejudices of his neighbours, and it was only when he discovered that this was impossible that he availed himself of Lieutenant Wallace's advice to seek employment among persons of his own religion. Thus it was that our hero obtained admittance to the household of the Earl of (ruisborough. Almost his last action before he left his home was to write a letter to Edith, — a letter he was destined to read again in after years. Farce or tragedy,— how must superior beings, if such there be, regard this life of man t id his » i' K-f 68 UPON THIS ROOK. CHAPTER IX. IN WHICH THE SCENE CHANQIS. « HOLMWOOD Hall, the seat of the Earl of Guisborough,^ was a large, old-fashioned country house with few architectural peculiarities about it to arrest the traveller's attention. It stood on a broad terrace at the head of an avenue of stately trees, which led up from the hamlet inhabited chiefly by labourers on the Earl's estate. The park, however, was very extensive, with here and there groups of oaks, elms, and beechps, and the gardens were superior to any in Rutland- shire. Midway between the Hall and the village, to the right of the avenue, stood a gothic chapel of much beauty, the vestry of which was used as a school for those village children who were members of the Roman Catholic Church. About a stone's throw from the lodge gate, on the other aide of the road, was the vicarage, and in the very centre of the village stood the parish church, a venerable edifice dating from the fourteenth century. The village itself was a very small one, there being about twenty, or perhaps thirty houses nestling under the gray old tower, but there were many outlying hamlets throughout the parish and the houses of the tenant farmers, who cultivated thousands of broad acres of the Guis- borough estate. Viewed from the higher land beyond the Hall, the scene was very picturesque, with the clustering red- tiled cottages surmounted by the pinnacled tower, the whole picture enclosed in a frame-work of sage and emerald green. The railway was nearly five miles from Holmwood, and tourists often drove over in dog-carts and gigs, attracted no less by the old parish church and its monuments than by the Hall and its noble owner's beautiful piivate chapel. Here, too, on certain occasions came various dignitaries with queer un- English titles and most un-English faces, veterans in that would-be conquering army whose steadfast, silent purpose it was to recover for the Roman Church the island which had formerly been the brightest jewel of the triple crown. There was only one inn in the village, —the " Guisborough Arms." It had nothing of the " hutol " about it, but was what it assumed to be, — a rare virtue in our time even in rural England, -a plain, old-fashioned, thoroughly comfortable Kuglisli inn. Directly ov»m- the dooj- svyuug the Guisborough UPON THIS ROCK. 69 Hall arms and crest, and directly in the doorway stood on most occasions the portly, jolly person of the host. Will Richards. It was the first of May when Hugh Desmond was driven into Holmwood. He had hired a gig at the railway station with the intention of proceeding straight to the Hall. A somewhat serious collision between two freight trains had occasioned a long detention, and it was quite dark wh§n the gig drew up at the inn door. Learning from Richards that the Earl was still in town, Desmond resolved to pass the night at the Guisborough Arms, where he partook of a hearty supper, after which he betook himself to the well-sanded parlour to while away the hours before bed-time. He was somewhat surprised to find quite a large company, principally farmers, assembled. The watchful landlord probably observed the young man's look, and he explained that on May Day the school children always had a procession, and in tine weather there were various games and a sort of general picnic, free to all, in the park. " Well, landlord, I will thank you for a tankard of your home-brewed and soij|ie tobacco," said Hugh, the latter article being evidently suggested by the number of long church- wardens on the tables and in the mouths of the company, Taking a chair which a gentleman somewhat past middle age politely oti'ered him, our hero lit his pipe and began to look about him. Like most reserved and so-called shy persons, Hugh was fond of society. The events of the last month, — the journey to London, his engagement by the Earl, — seemed to him to resemble the transformations of fairy tales. He had gone back to Torweston with his head almost whirling with excitement, and in a few days he had completed all the ai'iangeuient.s for his departure from Devonshire. Lieutenant Wallace, eager to establish a religious eomnuvnit 'n Tomiavy, was going to London to interview "the Archhisiiop," and the two friends journeyed together on the Ureat Western to Oxford, where, like pious pilgrims, they visited the colleges founded in the "good old times, ere England's griefs began. ' Together, while in the metropolis, they wandered through the Abbey, together they saw the dese(Tated church of the good monk liahere in 8mithtield, read with bitter sarcanni "the martyrs' tablet," and heard mass in the "pro-cathedral." With all these experiences, Desmond felt himself a man of the world, and though still re.nerved among strangerii, he waa 'u: I ( J'fci 70 UPON THIS KOCK. much less shy and self-conscious. His second education had fairly begun ; books may make the scholar, but communion with his fellows makes the man. The gentleman who had offered our hero the chair was evidently curious respecting him. After a few remarks on the condition of the roads and the state of the weather, the middle-aged man grew somewhat bolder. " You will pardon me, ^ hope, sir," he said, "my abruptness; but you do not look like a traveller, — I mean, of course, one of those com- mcicial travellers that we meet so often now-a-days." "Quite right, sif," said Hugh, " I am, if you like, rather an uncommercial traveller." " I beg your pardon, sir, and I hope you will not think me too bold." " On the contrary, sir," said Hugh, " I am sure it is very kind o: you to take notice of a stranger. May I ask if you belong to this village ? " " Belong to Holmwood ? Yes, sir, for twenty-five years I have been schoolmaster and parish-clerk." " Indeed 1 then in one sense I think we are brother-chips," said Desmond : " I also am a sort of schoolmaster." " Not the new choir-master for whom the Earl has been advertising, eh ? " inquired the middle-aged man. No sooner was Desmond's reply given than the schoolmaster grasped his hand and gave him a heai-ty welcome. " My name, sir," he said, " is Appleton, — Joshua Appleton : I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. — er 1 — I protest I forgot to ask our name." " Desmond," returned the young niuu ; at your service, Mr. Appleton." Very much to Hugh's surprise, his companion rose from his chair, rapped his knuckles on the table, and authoritatively called out, " Order, gentlemen ! " In a moment silence came upon the company, uiid all eyes were directed toward the schoolmaster and the new-comer. Mr. Appleton hemmed once or twice, precisely us he always did when making any announcement in church, and formally introiluced our hero. "Gentlemen and friends, I ask permission to introduce Mr. Hugh Desmond, the new choir-master at Holmwood Hall. Gentlemen, I propose that wo all drink to his very good health and better acquaintance." JS'ot only diti the gentlemen drink Ifugh's health, they Hugh Desmond, H II UPON THIS ROCK. 71 crowded around him, each one determined to shake hands, host Richards, who was also a blacksmith, fairly causing Desmond's arm to tingle in his grip. It was an honest, hearty English welcome, and our hero began to feel at home among the sturdy yeomen. He briefly returned thanks for their kind reception and resumed his seat. Just then a little, thin old man entered the room, upon whom Mr. Joshua Appleton laid ^ iolent hands, drawing him up to Desmond's chair just as he would have taken out one of his scholars for condign punish- ment. " Bless my soul ! " said Joshua, — who was a very excitable j)orson, — *' Bless my soul, this is fortunate. Mr. Desmond, allow me to present Mr. Flowers, — old John Flowers, — the Orhilins plngosus of the rival academy, — you understand me? of the school belonging to the Earl's church. Flowers, this is Mr. Desmond, your new organist ; came an hour or so ago. Pie, old friend ! what sort of work is this, to leave the looming of your own co adjutor to a heretic like me, ha ha, AV» lia ! " The clerk's voice sounded like an east wind in the Channel, and his ha, ha ! was as contagious as tfll^ small-pox. Jn marked contrast was the voice of Flowers as he quietly responded, " Mr. Desmond is sure of a kindly welcome, old friend, both fiom me and at the Hall. We knew of his coming, although we were not quite sure of the precise time of his arrival. T am glad to see you, Mr. Desmond, very glad to see you indeed. They tell me there was an accident on the railway near Stam- ford ; I hope you suffered no inconvenience." "Nothing more than a detention of some hours, Mr. Flowers," replied De««mond, as he made way for the old ;[;entleman's chair. "Arriving here so late I judged it best to stay until morning." " Quite right, quite right," said Flowers. " I do not doubt that friend Joshua here has done the honours excellently well." " I am very much obliged to Mr. AppK ton for making me feel quite at home already," snid Hugh. " I am sure I do not seem to be a stranger, having made the acquaintance of such a number so soon after my arrival." " Why, you see," said Joshua, " this is May Day, and we always have jnnketting and holiday on the first of Mey. How- ever, a few of us always spend an hour or two in this parlour ii t-. i ^'J. 72 tJPOV Tlllfi HOCK. every night ; our forefathers did it before us, and so do we. We are a somewhat mixed lot, Mr. Desmond, but we are sturdy Englishmen of the old stock. Not so bad as we might be after all, Flowers, no Dissenters and Anabaptists, eh ? " " There are degrees of error, of course, Appleton," returned the old man, " and you have always found me willing to allow that the separatists of the Establishment are not so far gone in heresy as the other bodies of their fellow-Protestants. Sunt enim multi etiam inohedientes ; vaniloquiy es seductores, . . quos oportet redargui." " Yes, friend, it was even so in the days of the great Apostle. Even then, while those who had seen the Master in the flesh were yet alive, there were divisions and strivings for pre-eminence. I hardly know which is the worse picture, our own divisions or those of the early Christians." " The great lapse of the sixteenth century was by far the most awful in history," said Flowers. " Judged by its conse- quences, its authors and abettors were among the greatest criminals, and worthy the severest condemnation." " Tut, tut ! my friend, you must have forgotten much of what you iMpfned at Oxford, when the Church into which you were born was good enough for you. You know very well how horrible were many of the ancient heresies, and the excesses of a few crazy High-Dutch Anabaptists cannot vitiate a movement which, in England at least, led to the purification of our true national church and its freedom from the yoke of an ecclesiastical tyranny which had long lorded it over Christ's heritage, — a tyranny founded on force, falsehood and fraud." "You learned this doubtless while you were at Oxford, friend Appleton," said Mr. Flowers ; " in my time our studies were directed rather toward the discovery of what was right and true than toward finding a thin veneer of speciousness to cover the cracks and flaws in the Tudor church. In my ' History of the Tractarian Movement ' " — " Cracks and flaws ! " interrupted Joshua, do vehemently that the beer glasses fairly rang ; " cracks and flaws ' What have we tc veneer or hide in the title deeds of the Church of England ? where are our mutilations of the Fathers, our false decretals, our fraudulent miracles and legends, our falsifications of history, our blasphemous worship of saints and angels? Pooh, Mr. Flowers ! you talk like a convert, your zeal outruns VPOV THIS ItOCK. 7d your discretion. Now, here iff Mr. Desmond, a born Romanist no doubt, you do not find him so set on controversy. All you prose/ytes are so zealous, you will not hear reason." Certainly, if the parish-clerk were an embodiment of reason, then reason must be very dogmatic and overbearing. Joshua Appleton had been compelled to leave the university without a decree, his father's sudden death having left the family totally unprovided for. Without a murmur the young fellow submitted : he obtained a situation as an assistant in a well- known bchool in the City, — the Appletons had been Londoners for many generations, — and for fifteen years he had supported mother, sister, his brother Alfred and himself in comfort and respectability on one hundred pounds a year. At the end of the fifteen years Alfred procured an appointment in the Indian civil service and the sister had become the wife of a curate in Clerkenwell, Joshua's friend at the university, a second cousin of the lady who, about the same time, on the demise of the old Enrl, became the Countess of Guisborough. Shortly before ber marriage the last-named lady had become a Roman Catholic. Very much to his surprise, the Rev. George Cham- pernowne was, within a year of his union with Mary Appleton, aflered the living of Hoimwood. He was not a poor man, having fair private means, but he eagerly availed himself of the promotion. The living was a good one, but under the old vicar everything had gone to decay. Abovo all, the school (Vas very much neglected, so much so that many of the farmers ind villagers sent their children to the school established by the Earl, and which, while not exactly a proselyting agency, (vas undeniably intended for Roman Catholics. After a little persuasion, Joshua Appleton undertook the charge of the (Tillage school, and he and his mother moved to Hoimwood, foshua being then thirty-five years old. For twenty-five years tie continued to occupy the dfeal oflice of schoolmaster and parish-clerk. On Sundays and holy-days he read the lessons in church, and his influence in the parish was almost as high ts that of his brother in-law, the vicar. He and his mother — aow nearly eighty — dwelt in a comfortable house near the icho<;>l, having the playground on one side and the churchyard Dn the other. Forty years ago John Flowers had been the rector of a very rich parish in the midlands. He had sacrificed this and fifteen •lundred pounds a year in order to join the Roman Church. ,«■! '■r 74 UPON THIS ROCK. For ten years he had struggled with poverty in London, earning a precarious subsistence by writing for the Roman Catholic papers and magazines. Unfortunately his scholarship was not of the marketable variety. He was a ponderous writer, his sentences being very long and curiously involved. While in London he had published a " History of the Tractarian Move^ uiont," which he had contrived to make about as interesting as Nehemiah's list of returned exiles. About fifty copies were sold or given out for review, the world rolled on and the book and its author were alike forgotten. One day a careless, / good-natured Irishman, who wrote leaders to order for a daily paper, was introduced to Flowers by a mutual friend. The journalist compelled the ex-parson to dine with him at the '^ Cock," and before he knew what he was about the poor scholar was assisting his new friend to concoct whiskey punch at the latter's lodgings in Catherine street. They had spent a couple of hours very agreeably, and the newspaper man was just in the middle of a glowing tribute to Father Prout, when he found that his guest was pretty far gone in intoxication. The generous liquor was too potent for the brain of the half- atarved scholar, which had succumbed just as the Irishman's began to bubble over with wit and patriotic devotion. In reply to a question, Flowers gave his host the name of the street in which he lived, — a secret he would have jealously held if sober, — and in a short time after they were both on their way to Westminster in a cab. As he anticipated, the street in which the journalist was finally landed was a wretched purlieu, but he was profoundly shocked when he found that the home of the ex-clergyman and his wife and two daughters was nothing more than a miserable garret. He departed as soon as the victim of his hospitality was safely housed, but for weeks thereafter the thought of the misery he had seen fairly haunted hiift. He exerted his influence in certain quarters so successfully that ere long John Flowers was withdrawn from London and comfortably installed as the tirst Romitn Catholic schoolmaster seen in Rutlandshire since the Reformation. Often meeting at the inn, as on a neutral ground, the peda- gogues soon came to know each other intimately. Ever and anon the combative Joshua would spur his friend on to a theological disputation, in which the one combatant seemed to wield an English quartcrstalT, the other a keen and subtle UPON THlg ROCK. 7C rapier. In general, however, Mr. Flowers sought to avoid these debates, and on the present occasion he was especially desirous that the new-comer into the parish should be spared the din and clangor of a controversy with which he must be f.iiniiiar. Joshua's allusion to the young man as " a born Uomnnist," however, afforded Flowers an opportunity which few mortals could disregard, and in a tone of absolute triumph l)e said : " There, friend, you are mistaken, and I hope the circum- stance will tend to make you more diffident with regard to the infallibility of your own judgment. Mr. Desmond was formerly a member of the Established Church," " Yea, I remember ; of course, of course," replied Joshua. " I quite forgot ; but Mr. Desmond will forgive me, I am sure. Yes, iair, I know all about it ; but our young friend is none the less welcome." "Mr. Appleton," said Flowers, " I know you for an incorri- gible gossip, but in this case 1 an» at a loss to conjecture whence you procure your information." "Tut, tut, man ! " returned Joshua, "you know that Lady Blanche regularly corresponds with Mrs. Champernowne. You make much of your converts, and women s tongues are very much like a«pen leaves. It was only yesterday that my sister WHS deploring the advances made by Romanism, and the vicar and I soon discovered that the Lady Blanche had told her tli.it the new organist was a pervert, — or, as you say, a con- vert. However, I lieg pardon, Mr. Desmond ! All this is most improper ; I regret that we should have spoken of it." To do him justice, Mr. Appleton was ashamed of his indis- cretion, and so worthily did he exert himself by way of atone- MM'iit that the evening passed most plea.santly without polemics, and our hero retired to rest very well satisfied with his new friends nnd w-th himself. and to a ned to subtle . '■ m . 1^ 1 K'l 1 r 76 tPON THIS ROCK, CHAPTER IX. WHICH THE READER MAY FIND SOPORIFIC. THE young choir-master had grown thoroughly familial with his duties and acquainted with his scholars before the family came down to Holmwood. His own apartment was near the roomn of Mr. Flowers and his family, with a larger room between which served them both as a dining-room and private parlour. They got along very comfortably together, although at times Mr. Flowers seemed a trifle tedious. Never- theless, he was a profound scholar^ and under his guidance Hugh profited much with such an El Dorado as the Earl's magnificent library thrown open to him. Joshua Appleton, — in his own forceful manner, — had insisted on introducing Hugh to the Champernownes, laughing heartily when he per- ceived that the young man almost recoiled with sanctified hoiror from paying a visit to an heretical minister. The ice once broken, however, Hugh soon learned to respect the good vicar and his wife, the more readily perhaps that he found they did not share the combative instincts of the lady's brother. As the time drew near for the Earl's return, our hero found himself growing somewhat nervous. Would they be satisfied with his methods '( Would the chaplain prove exacting with regard to the church music ? Above all, was the Earl of (}uisV)orough of a domineering nature ? Huj;h was very much impressed by the almost reverential manner in which the Earl was spoken of by those around him. Born on the sea-coast, where feudal influences are always at their weakest, Desmond was almost a stranger to those sentiments of respect for the nobility and gentry which in agricultural districts approxi- mate to obsequious servility. One evening, at the village inn, he went so far as to ask Joshua Appleton why it was that all the farmei's he met were ultra-Conservatives in politics. " I do not think," he added, " that I have heard any one of them express sympathy with the Ministry since I have been at Holmwood. Are all farmers inclined to side with the party not in office ? " " Tut, tut, young man ! " said the scliooliutyster ; " you are, I see, of an inquiring turn of mind. • Take care, or it will 4 UPON TUIS KOCK. 77 you are Ir it wi! land you in Radicalism. As to the farmers, they are pretty much alike all over England, and, I suppose, the world : — they are bullet-headed, sir ; stolid as their own oxen ; unable to discern their own needs or to recognize what tends to their own advantage. Our farmers, young roan, are of the politics of their landlord. It was always so, — mayhap it will always be so ; Parliament has given them the ballot, but it cannot give them brains. Sir, I am the only Liberal in the parish, I think ; even my own brother-in-law is a blind adherent of Toryism." When, at last, the family did arrive, Hugh found no chtnge occurred so far as his daily routine was concerned. Three times a week Mr. Flowers left his school at noon, the after- noons being devoted to the singing practice. A few days after the home-coming, the Earl sent for Desmond and kindly interrogated him, apparently rather with a desire to ascertain if iie were comfortable than for any other reason. In the afternoon the choir was in the midst of a new chant when the Earl, his daughter, and the chaplain entered the vestry. The party halted just inside the swinging doors, and the chant continued unbroken until the Amen. Then the young master aroise and made a profound bow as the Earl and his companions came forward. The priest was an Englishman, Father Henry Kevins, and at the introduction he greeted the master warmly, while at the same time his scrutiny was keen. The Lady Blanche gave Hugh a distant bow, and a burning blush came to the young man's cheek with the memory of the moment when last her eyes met his. The chaplain, however, had come to superintend the choir's drill, and in a few minutes, after each child had been duly noticed, the practice was resumed. Lady Blanche had a good voice, but Desmond was much more hnpressed by her distinct and clear articulation of the Latin syllables, and by her most un-Roman, but altogether English, pronunciation of the vowel e. Father Nevins was pleased to congratulate Hugh on his method of teaching and the evident improvement of the choir. The Earl was no less pleased, — though he probably took his opinion from the chaplain, or perhaps he was gratified to Hnd his daughter somewhat less critical than had been her wont. In the evening, while Desmond and the schoolmaster were having a quiet ga^ie of chess. Father Nevins visited their apartment. He, too, was a convert, having once held a Churcb ':! P vM 78 UPON THIS ROCK. of England uuracy iu the diocese of Winchester. He had been one of the first to follow in the wake of Newman. For- tunately for himself, he had not entered into the state of matrimony, and no obstacle existing thereto he became in due time a priest of the Roman Church. The fervour of his zeal had, however, long since abated, and it may be that he sought our hero's company, — for he became a regular visitor to the room of the teachers, — mainly by way of stimulating his languishing enthusiasm. Little by little, our hero told him of his mental scruples and struggles, and the chaplain did not fail to notice how powerful a factor in effecting his conversion Hugh's emotional, highly imaginative nature had been. " Mr. Desmond," said the priest one evening, — Flowers having gone to the village, — " Mr. Desmond, I will be frank with you. You think, — nay, you are now certain, — ^that you have found rest. Believe me, it is not so. For the time, you have found what I may t«rm intellectual quietude, but absolute rest does not exist this side the grave. It is our lot to live in a transition age, when the minds of men are torn and con- vulsed as we know the world itself was in the distant past. Mind you, I do not say that in past generations doubts and uncertainties have not troubled the souls of men ; but the trouble was then confined to the few, now it is well-nigh common to all men. In our time the very newspapers trench upon the rights of the pulpit, and in to-morrow's Times or Daily News, — or even in some provincial paper, — there may lurk a poison fatal to one's spiritual life. We cannot always keep ourselves at a fever heat of controversial fervour, or feel ourselves engaged in one continuous crusade. I often think that for those who were not born into the Church the more frequent recourse to penance and the communion is a neces- sity. Only thus can we protect ourselves against the evil habit fostered by Protestantism, — the habit of cavilling, test- ing, arguing and doubting." " It may be so, Father," said Hugh, " but there is surely some protection in the knowledge that doubt is sin." " JTue," replied the priest, " but doubts recur and persist, and the only sure means of resisting is that of an early pen- ance." " So far as my own individual reason is concerned," replied Desmond, " I have fully convinced myself that the Cathol it- Church is the true Cliurch of Christ, the unerring witness and UPON THW ROCK. T» id )r- of iue eal ght the his nof not ■aion wets 'rank tyou J, you iolute live in d con- b past, ts and )ut the pU-nigh trencli mes or re may always or feel think le more a neces- the evil ng,te8t- s surely persist, irly pen- " replip<^ Catholic bness and cuatodiiiit of Hiii revelation tu nuiiikind. With ( iod's lile^isin;*, iiml by the interceHsion of Haint John the Apostle, I hopu never to be enticed or drawn back into the society of heietio* and KchismaticH." '' Amen ! " replied Mr. Nevius, " but in our time heresy and schism are not the Devil's only snares. However, let us not l)e too serious out of place ; just now I have a buHiness coni- niission to fulfil. Of course you know the Kendalls, at least Alice and Mary, the sweetest voices in your choir. The father is the wealthiest of the Earl's tenant-farmers. He is not a (!atholic, but his wife is, and he allows her to educate the children in the old faith. There are two boys, however, in a grammar school at Stamford." " Surely," interposed Hugh, "such a system must ultimately h'ad to confusion ; the boys will probably *fvow up as Pro- testants, and disunion must inevitably follow. ' "Not necessarily so, Mr. Desmond. I have generAliy noticed that domestic ties are the most lasting, and in our age it is by no means the rule that religious differences raise up to a man enemies from out his own household. [ once knew a man, a convert, who endeavoured to bring his wife into the bosom of the Church. Unfortunately, he was over- zealous ; like the woman in the play, he urged his point day and niglit. I myself warned him to be more judicious, to 'iitisten slowly.' He continued, however, to argue, and, 1 fear, even to threaten, until his wife passed into a state of sullen resistance, when he gave the whole thing up in sheer despair." "But she was ultimately brought to a knowledge of the truth, I hope, sir?" said Desmond. " Indeed, I fear not," replied Mr. Nevins ; " the husband consequently lapsed into infidelity, — became a Positivist or a Secularist, or something of that kind. Zeal is all very well while it lasts, but it is a kind of fire that soon exhausts itself." Father Nevins sighed in such a manner that a more keen observer than Desmond might have imagined the priest recog- nized and regretted his own lukewarmness. "About these Kendalls, however," he resumed; "Mrs, Kendall is anxious that Alice and Mary should take music lessons, and I am deputed to ask if you would care to be their instructor. As I told you, the family is wealthy, and the terms are very good. If you like the proposition, it would be 80 UPON THIS ROCK. ft good thing for you, and T do not know even that you might not, indirectly, of course, exert a missionary influence." " But the Earl," said Hugh ; " I am his paid employee, and I have no right thus to dispose of even my spare titfle." " Be quite at ease in that respect," answered the chaplain ; "I have already consulted his lordship, And he is willing that you should take as many pupils as yo'i can obtain without interfering with or encroaching on your more immediate duties." And so it was settled. Hugh's income would be increased to a hundred pounds by the arrangement, while the additional labour amounted to but very little. Moreover, it opened up to him a wider society than that of the Hali, and his evenings gradually became a Kttle more pleasant as his sooicii circle expanded, and Mrs. Flowers and her daughters, under Des- njond's auspices, soon became on intimate te»'in8 with many of their neighbours with whom they had previously, — thanks to the recluse nature of the old schoo'r.iaster, — made little or no acquaintance. It was a serene and happy existence, almost without a cloud, a time to be looked bacic upon with pleasure and regret. Young as he was, liowever, Desmond bore within the chamber of memory one disturbing remembrance. "We hope that God will bless !iim always," — these words he had not forgotten and could not forget, and whenever he thought of Edith Allyn it wr» v.itli a perturbation of spirit distressingly artlictive to one who aspired to celibacy and the priesthood. He was trying ui •ixpel nature with a fork ; and all human experience goes to j^.rove that he who would vanquish Love should begin by iouatei acting and outraging Nature in some such manner as that nd opted by Origen of Alexandria. Yet while profesLing to desire the cure, men strangely seem to dislike the remt^f. UPON THIS ROCK. 81 CHAPTER XL WIIBRBIN THE MOON 18 CLEARLY AT FAULT. HUGH Desmond hai>, recoi; nixing the njaster as a friend, came bounding forward to greet him. T'je colour in tlie girl's face !it»ifrhte'.jed soniewh.it as she extended her hand. " T am tleiighted to meet you, Misr^ Kendall," said Hujjh, " I was in doubt whether to go to the village or to iWdi Farm, but now may I not ask to accompany you home?" "Tha»jk you," answered Alice, " I hope you will do so, iuidl as this is pnictice night, you will stay to tea, and th(;n we wiii all go back with you to the Hall, — I mean Mary juid 1 luidl 'Wolf.'" " I suppose Air. Kendall has gone to the hunt to-day ?'| inquired Hugh. •* Yes," she said, " T think almost all the farmers are tlHTel They grumble very much when their lields are gone over, liutj they seem to enjoy tlie sport all the same just as much as the! gentleme«» do. Don't you think that hunting is cruel, Mrf Desmond '' i'Vincy all this bustle and eagerness over a jjoorf little fox." " Nay, Miss Alice ; it seems to me that we hear a lot puling, mawkish sentiment now a-day, that our good old tor lathers wotdd have despisi'd. With lespect to the fox, it ^i :ould c'(>?iHult liiiii, he would probably prefer the cIihihi ^ lu'ing huntrd to wliolesale externiiuatioii, vhicli would, wti hunting aboiislied, be the altt'rnative. \)u you know, J li*'|* ''•w.irdl " Suf li.uii,drf| •Mi, "lorid, "f rc'tul t"in m[ UPON THIS KOCK. 83 vmii will not class me anion;:; ihv ituoI onos,- T think that T should really enjoy hunting as much as these cjentry of ours (1(» / l)Ut in England one must, T think, beloi ^ to the privi- loi^'cd classes to enjoy living at all." * I h irdly know," replied Alice ; " father and the other t.'ti.ints steru to like following the hounds, though of course fhtii- station prevents them from hunting in pink like the iiH'jiibers of the Hunt." " r think they are not to be blamed for doing so," said li.^iiiond, "since surely those wlio create are as much entitleiinion. " yet your own are just as dark as those of La.ly nianche." Tlicy were now on the brow of the hill, and the road wound to the left, bounded for nearly a mile by Holmwood Park. < )n their right hund was the road to Beech Kami, a pretty, quiet lane, with higU, grass-covered hedges ot» both sides, from whiili ^'lew hazels, young elms, ashes and bec'uhes. Down tliis lane .Mice and Desmond turned just a.s the former was speaking. Ilu^h, somewhat amused at Alice's remark, bent his head toward her lauyfJiingly, and .said ; " Surely, you do not insinuate that my expression is li.uigli-ty, do Nou, Hiss Kendall'/" .Mice blushed and uttered a slight exclamation, and Des- iiiond, rnisiii>_j his head, saw a few yards down tin' lane ajiarty of' returning hunters, th«> foriMuost two Inung the Hon. ('«)• tain Meadows and his sister, the Ijady Blanche. The cuptaiu .ua 84 UPON THIS ROCK. looked amused as his glance fell on the couple whose convene had been apparently so interesting as to render the tread of the cavalcade inaudible. When, however, his eyes met Hugh's the smile faded from his countenance, his look being met by another imperious enough to rank its owner among the moat arrogant of the Meadows race whose portraits hung in the long gallery at tlie Hall. As they rode slowly by, the Lady Blanche bent her head slightly to Alice Kendall, Desmond's bow being apparently unnoticed. '' By Jove ! " said the captain to his sister, as they turned the corner, " your interesting convert seems still bent on con- version. I am much mistaken if that pretty little rustic is not already nearly of his opinion. Did you see him bending over her while he expounded his doctrine 1 Faith, I think she roads her creed in his eyes." " Pshaw, Robert ! " said Blanche ; " that is Alice Kendall, our little soprano. Mr. Desmond is her teacher, and she is a mere child." " A child, eh ?" said the Captain ; " a deuced fine child too. Take my word for it, your music-man carries an eye dangerous to the peace of mind of such children. I do not like that fellow ; he looks devilishly priggish and conceited. By George! he looks you straight in the eye, though ; one of those fellows who fancy themselves above their station. I don't like him." " The music-man, as you term him," answered Blanche, *' is said to be quite a scholar. He is highly spoken of by Father Nevins, and pa considers him quite a treasure. He will sur- vive your dislike, Robert." " Faith," said the other, "he seems to know how to make| the best of it. Let us hope that Tom Kendall will not cutj down his aspirations. But in this confounded era of Radical- ism even our good, honest, old-fashioned yeomen seem to| recognize superiority in a black coat." " It may be, Robert, because they have learned from I experience how niueli inferiority is generally covered by a red one," answered hi.s sister, banteringly, and the cavalcade rode| on tow/ird the Park. The choir practice this evening was considerably protracted] In the tirst place, a party of visitors from the Hall came Ilit> train of Father Nevins and the indefatigable Ladj I'liiiiclie, and Huionf? them were two ardent lovers of churcl| music, for whose delectation much extra work was imposed oij the Ullt U) a FatJ tinn/ •Suiu HOUJ 110 ot lliillS( lady 'iftpar •Miiail t/ivaii t/ie \vi se/iiii'ir f'outioi trescen liowcvei H'liiJe A uiitiJ th( Tl len Id |"''jec(f)(l| I'Jwnej- sal "Al I""', Ml ''*' uptioj iss ^ouJci '''t'yoiin^ lai/ituiii 'Jioiii ifji O'l UPON THIS ROCK. M child too. iangerous like that y George' |ae fellowi like hiro" ^nche, " w by Father e will sttf med fronl ed by ft m ralcade rode protractedl [all came ml table 1^1 Ls of church L im posted 01 the choir. Indeed, tlie regular practice was not entered upon until these visitors, profuse in compliments, had departed. Scarcely had they gone, when a messenger summoned the priest to attend a dying woman in a distant part of the parish, and Fiitiier Nevins had to content himself with a few brief intima- tions to Desmond respecting the changes to be made in the Suiuliiy services. Hugh expected that Lady Blanche, too, would not care to stay long beyond the usual hour, there being no other person present from the Hall, except, of course, he liiuist'lf. Very much to his surprise, however, the young lady did st^vy, and the fact of her presence became very ilpp;u•en^ Ihe practice-room of the vestry was rather a small one, and when all were present various ingenious con> trivances were used to utilize the limited space to the best j)ossil)le advantage. The American organ stood in front of the window, and a double row of chairs formed concentric scniicit'clos at tiie back of the organist. Alice Kendall's usual pout ion was at what we may term the right horn of the inner crescent, directly in view of her friend the teacher. Now, liowi'ver, this chair was occupied by Lady Blanche Meadows, while Alice hud taken a seat in the rear rank. All went well until the vesper hymn was raised : *• Lucis Creator optimo, Lucem diorum j)roferen8, Primordiis lucis novae, Mundi i)aran8 originum." Then it wa.\Uh Kendall's i's?" " Miss Kendall's eyes ! " asked 1 lugli, a mischievous twinkle jh'aniijig in his own. "Why, yes, my lady, I think J did thih jvoniiig, I think they are very nice eyes." Could a glance have annihilated, Hugh Desmond would at iliiit moment have been dissolved into nothingness. While ||«iikiiig, however, he himself threw a searching, arch look at lie young lady. For ju.st an insUmt she seemed struggling to uilMtain her hauteur, but the eagle glance softened into Hi! .. ' '■ t 86 UPON THIS ROOK. something almost dove-like while the master was speaking, Doubtless it is somewhat ditllcult for even the proudest maiden to preserve a rigid austerity of demeanour under all circumstances, and not even the consciousness of rank and station are always proof against that which we, in our ignor- ».nce, t»)rm personal magnetism. At any rate, Blanche Mea- dows even smiled as she said : *' I mean Miss Kendall's vowel sounds, if you please, Mundi, with our English i, long and hard ; it can be dis- tinctly heard as a dissonance above all the singing." Poor Alice looked guilty of a very grave fault indeed, but \)esmond came gallantly to the rescue. •' Yet I acknowledge. Lady Blanche," he said, " that this system of Italianizing sometimes grates on an English ear. For instance, think of Cantet nunc lo turned into Cantet nunc Eeo — the shout of manly joy and triumph converted into a feeble wail of nerveless imbecility. However, Miss Kendall must endeavour to bear in mind the distinction. After all, the Church's language must be of universal applica' tion ; and this compels us even to sacrifice our prejudices in little things, which are sometimes, I think, much more diiiicult to sacrifice than are others of greater importance. If you ["^ease, we will begin the Lucis Creator again; and, if possible, \e%, us sing it to the end without interruption." Even old Sir Harry Meadows, whose armour and sword were barging in tl»e great hall at Holmwood, dented by the blows so ungrudgingly bestowed at Bosworth Field, must have, had he been present, confessed that the music-master had his choir well in hand. The hymn was rendered satisfactorily, and the practice proceeded to the close without any interrup- tion worth noticing. As one by one, or in little groups, the i choristers departed, Desmond observed a slight hesitation on the part of Lady Blanche. In a moment he remembered that 1 Father Nevins was not there to accompany the lady to the I Hall : it was now eight o'clock, and the w.-ilk from the lodge | up the avenue would 1m^ very lonesome and perhaps dreary, Ordinarily he would have gone with Alice at least as far H!»| . Beech Farm lane, but now it devolved upon him to alter thi»| usual prograniuie. Fortunately, he was not slow to act whenj necessity was imposed upon him. "Lady Blau'-he, " he said, with a low bow of respect, *' wei are much later than usual this evening, and i fear you arel UPON THIS ROCK. S7 king, udest er all c and ignor- j Men- be dis- ed, but »at this iah ear. , Cantet tnverted 8r, Miss tinction. applica- idicea in e difficult If you possible, d sword ed by the eld, must jaster had afactorily, interrup- roups, the itation on bered that idy to the the lodge I ips dreary, at as far a*| o alter thi» ,o act when apect, "wei )ttr you iii^i aloiip. Mis.s Kendall goes as far as the Iwlge, and may T firodtr rny attendance afterward to the Hall ? It is not very (lark, hut your lady.ship cannot go honje through the avenue unattended. Pray consider me at your service, if you |)lc.l!-0." Suiiicthing like a film-cloud of disappointment passed over Alift's face. Lady Blanche was evidently relieved by the oifiaiiist's proposition. " Thunk you, Mr, Desmond," she SJiid ; " if you will be so pvid, I will at least accompany you as far as the lodge, and tlK'if perhaps we may find Joslyn the keeper or his little (laii;,'litor." I loader, luvst thou ever escorted two ladies along a country road on a moonlight evening in autumn ? If yes, let nie ask of tlice if one of these chanced to be of a higher sphere than tliiiie own, while the other was hut "a simple m.-iiden in her lldutT," wert thou not in a parlous situation? How couldst til II at once entertain Lady Clara Vere de V^ere and eke the miller's daughter? Which of this trio most enjoyed that walk to the lodge at Holm wood Park I cannot tell thee. Alice Kendall wjis shy, speaking only when spoken to, and T do not question that she was really rejoiced when the thatched roof of Joslyn's beautiful cottage became visible. Did she iiiitijine that, arrived at this point, Hugh Desmond's oftice of cli;i|ieron to the titled lady would cease? Alas, little Alice i tlie (! titled ladies have peculiar ways. •edieni to the canon and the Church. Why do you ask ? " "They tell me that you are as full of zeal as Loyola, that 80 ? " •' My lady, T have made the Church my mother, my spoui my all. Upon this rock T am Hnnly founded, and woe bctii nie should T prove unfaithful or unpersevering to the end ** I know, T know." she answered ; "you are now aniniat '. edienc< Loyola. T, my spoui ,t\ woel»«'ti' „ the em- ^ow aniniiit' by the glowing ardour of a new disciple. I, too, have been ho less ardent, but time and something else have had their jnHuence too. Beware, however, lest you develop into »mere de\ otee, a fanatic. At present you are a mere scholar, a sort of n'cluse. At your present stage one may make an irretriev- (il)h^ mistake, — say, for instance, by abandoning the world. Only tho.se should be priests who are sure that their conquest over nature is absolute, complete, Otherwise they assuredly incur the peril of lying before the Deity, or of breaking their solemn vows in the inevitable conHict when nature prompts to one thing and religion another. Mr. Desmond, you will not Ijecoiiie a priest?" " 1 do not think so, my lady. I once thought I had a voca- lion ; but something occurred to suggest that it might be otherwise." •' Indeed ! May I ask — but no ; at least not now. May we not talk of this some other time ? " " Your ladyship is very good to be so interested in me. But cirounjstances, or destiny, or — " " Piovidence, you would say, has placed us so far apart that nil such communication is impossible. Not so, Mr. Desmond. I think Fate is rarely heard, except from coward lips, and I detest the word ' impossible.' But here we part. Good iiiiKht : " Eail of Guisborough, high and mighty owner of all these [wide domains ! why doey not thy rubicund and much bewigged ancestor in thy house in Belgravia send thee some intimation if thy daughter's lapse from aristocratic altitudes and pride )f place ( There, out yonder, wliert^ that stately avenue begins, •there, seen only by the wicked, mischief-encouraging moon, ihe even otters lior hand to tlui musit; man ; and he, while 'iidiiig low in salutation, is only, perhaps, deterred by nne mder remembrance from carrying those taper lingers to his ips. Yes, verily, my lord, if ever maiden's heart were in par- tus danger, that ntaiden is thy daughter. Such things have lappcuied in romance, and, now and then, in history, — for who iM account for, or explain, a woman and her whims ] And he, the music-master, what of him to-night 1 I cannot ly more than that he felt as one dreaming. Could it be that was mistaken ? had he foolishly leaped to a wrong conclu- M\ ? Most devoutly did he hope so, for, in his present state mind, he could no more associate Blanche Meadows with H^ ;: U. do UPON THIS ROOK. his own heart in love than he could have placed himself id the same situation with respect to the Virgo vir^'inum, the Queen of Heaven, Mary the Mother of Gknl. And, even in his prayers that night, his errant memory flew back to his last evening at Culm Tor. CHAPTER Xir. TWO LETTERS AND AN INFIDEL. Jill has of t cvrli the ] (( MJth " but two ]( "L this ; Irehin "I the ijei read it o\ er tl Inas Uublia It may iiarratii tlie whc rHE next morning, on entering the common parlour, Des- raond found Mr. Flowers there before him. The old gentleman was seated before a huge volume of commentaries, and his only response to Hugh's salutation was rather enig< matioal. **Mulierem fortem quis inveniet ? a strong woman who shall find ? In what sense do you understand fortem, eht surely not strong, for who desires strength in a woman t " " Whether used with a mental or physical application, it conveys the notion of power," replied Hugh. " In the Douay version it^is rendered valiant, but in the authorized Protestant version the appropriate word virtuotis transforms the passage." " Yes, yes," said the schoolmaster, "you are certainly right These proverbs do not sound well in Latin, — if I may say so, they appear to have been servilely rendered. Yet, doubtless, the Holy Spirit directed the work. But take this other passage : ' Sindonem fecit, et vendidit, et cingulum tradidil Chananceo.' Why did she, or why does she, give a girdle to the Canaanite? You see, the translator sins against the Horatiun maxim." " Certainly," replied Hugh, " the heretical version imparts Ik clearer idea. How does it read ? let me see ? — ah ! — * She maketh fine linen, and selleth it, and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.' But, however beautiful this translation may] be, let us not forget the terrible evils it has wrought." "True, my young friend," said Flowers, with something| very like a sigh of regret ; " but I cannot help admiring thei grand old masterpiece of English scholarship. It is as EnglishpcHsttiot as Shakespeare ; it has helped to fashion our national chari ter. I almost wish it were our own." " I can quite understand your feeling, my dear sir," repli I til "Dkar "W bethink cnlcei you proj able to meet my *n innne ^lio kno to;;'other, ^'ormaiK 's fo con "A St lOlncr word UPON THIS ROCK. 91 Uiijrh, '• but nothing is clrarer to me than that the Church has heif^n compelled absolutely to discourage thegeaerul reading of the Holy Scriptures. Do we not see that, in wrong hands, certain drugs and alkaloids, — sanatory when administerod by thp physician, — become deadly poisons ? " " It is a pity that this should be, as I fear it is, the case uith regard to the Hrst and greatest witness to the Catholic faith, — the revealed Word of Go%. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 iajlliy ||25 *i^ IIIIM 2.2 li^ 1 20 Ii.8 1^ 1.4 1.6 V] <^ /}. '^1 e". ear rather 7 <• 1 I §8 UPON THIS ROCK. li' I I I f as though he commiserated the stranger. Host Richards stood behind Desmond's chair, his eyes intently tixed on his new guest. For a few seconds no one broke tlie silence, but at length Hugh Desmond spoke. '* I am sorry, sir," he said, " that you should venture to call in question the mysterious ways of Divine Wisdom. It seems to me that you are in great danger of absolute infidelity, which may God avert ! I see in your case an example of the evil of which I spoke to my friend here this morning, — Unbe- lief is the natural result of the wretched principle of free inquiry which animated the leaders of the so-called lieforma- tion." " But which you, sir," said the stranger, " would doubtless prefer to term the Deformation. Pardon me, my good sir ; I assure you I mean no disrespect. You and your friend are, I perceive Roman Catholics ; and your creed is, in some respects, apparently more logical and regular than that of the one or two hundred denominations of Protestants among us. Allow me, however, to remind you that some of the gi'eatest Infidels, as you call them, have been produced by your own Church. You are much better qwilified than I am to examine the* title-deeds, historically, of Christianity, but I faney you are not fully aware of the results of scientific investigation in our day. Study these, sirs, and you will then see for your- selves that a greater revelation has come to the world ; a revelation that is not a hole and corner thing to be restricted to the few ; a revelation which enables us to speak with some confidence in the universality of nature's laws, and which leaves the rational mind no alternative but to regard the Bible narratives of a creation, a deluge, and all the rest of it as things not to be reconciled with science and ex,perience, — indeed, as irreconcilable with the statements of theBible itself." Joshua Appleton was aghast. He said nothing, but laying down his long churchwarden, he bade the party a short "good- night," and left the room. "The old gentleman," said the traveller, "is somewhat hurt by my plain speaking. It is not my fault, however ; he him- self invited my opinion." " Sir," said Desmond, " I will not deny that your words have shocked me very much. I can only say that I hope your opinions are peculiar to yourself, or I shall dread tl)eir eflect upon society." agoj Hapj nvy /lip IJlloJ (liini pl.'iti -on si UPON THIS ROCK. 99 words )e your effect "Peculiar to mysnlf ? " inquirod tlifl Rlran<:j«>r. "No, in- deed. I atn, sir, what is termed a Secularist, and T assut'^ }0U that there are many thousands who hold similar views in this country. There are societies establislied to disseminate and encourage Freethou^^ht principles, and our literature is widely circulated." "I have heard something of this before," said IVFr. Flowers. " I confess, not altogether without a certain degree of what I may term painful satisfaction, because I think that the excesses resulting from this infidel result of Protestantism will in Clod's good tirne lead to the restoration of the Church in the hearts and affections of the people. Depend upon it, sir, that tiie Catholic Church will refute and confound Infidelity while this chameleon-like thing which you term Science, will in due time overturn itself. Tt is wiitten that ' the gates of hell shall not pievail against the Church of Christ.' " " The gates of hell may not, bt^cause I cannot quite see how gates or doors may he regarded as combative," said the traveller ; " but depend upon it, friend, that, in reason en- lightened by science, your Church and every other will find a master. The free enquirer cannot now be handed over to the secular arm to be purged with fire ; and history teaches us how that former religions have, one after the other, been sub- verted. Why may it not be so with yours 1 " " You do not talk (juite like a, — I mean, not altogether as geutlenjen of your calling ordinarily do," said Hugh. " Par- don me, but I hope I am not offensive." " Not at all so," said the other; "I take your words as complimentary. Well, sir, there are among commercial travellers many shrewd reasoners and good talkei's, — many men of wide reading in modern literature. I advance no such claims ; but T would say that I was, until about five years ago, a Baptist minister," "Indeed," said Mr. Flowers, "and may we ask if being a Baptist minister is to be regarded as preparatory or prelimin- aiy to becoming a, — wliat do you call it ? — a Secularist? " " By no means," said the traveller ; " thei'e are among the liaptists as nmch blindness, ignorance, and sup(>r.stition as imong Catliolics, —no oflence. 1 first began to think of there things after 1 once over-hastily ventured to reply on a public [•latform to a certain Secular lecturer. I had previously L'oixsiderpd the evidences I wpuld allege ; but the lecturer ■d,y (5'' ^ I i I i ¥ ii i' .1 ■j5i ■ 100 UPON THIS ROCK. exploded them and discomfited me. This set me to thinking and reading, — and finally I found myself compelled to repudiate Christianity. This is how I became a commercial traveller ; and I may add that I like the Vjusiness. It enables ' me to study men ; and I may just as well acknowledge that I^ utilize my opportunities to encourage folks to think for them- selves. Who knows what may result only from this discourse 1 However, gentlemen, good night ! I have to be stirring early to-morrow." The ex-minister thereupon went for his candle, and Flowers and our hero soon after'lefi the inn. On the whole, this had proved rather an exciting day for the young organist ; but he himself felt, on retiring for the night, that the discourse at the " Guisborough Arms " was by far the most important feature in the day's record. For the first time in his life he had encountered Scepticism, and ere he betook himself to his couch he prayed long and earnestly for the grace of " final perseverance " in the faith. But even while he prayed, a shadowy doubt arose in his mind, and his sleep that night was strangely troubled and his dreams were perturbed. Had he come to the "parting of the ways"? Time will tell. CHAPTER XIIx. IN WHICH DOUBTS ARE SUGGESTED AND A DOUBT REMOVED. '""^''^HE Rev. George Champernowne, M.A., was alone in his J_ study. It was Thursday afternoon, the time when the vicar invariably entered upon the laborious duty of preparing his sermons for the ensuing Sunday. It was a cozy room, and the walls were well lined with book -shelves from floor to ceiling. Mr. Champernowne was wont to call it his den, and it certainly was an apartment in which he was well-nigh as secure from intrusion as though it were the retreat of a grizzly bear. Had his lot been cast in the reign of that most high and mighty prince James, who came down upon Eng- land with a well-sharpened appetite, " upon the setting of that bright occidental star. Queen Elizabeth of most happy memory," the vicar of Holmwood would have stood a poor chance of being elevated to the episcopal bench, inasmuch as he was a most inveterate smoker. For this all-powerful UPON THIS HOCK. 101 ■ hia the aring and Dr to and gh as of a most Eng ing of happy a poor uch as )weiful « reason, his studies were seldom interrupted, except in cases of absohite necessity, neither his wife nor her domestics being particuhirly fond of inhalinfj the fumes of the strong tobacco which the parson patronized, and which he used to excess while constructing his sermons, — apparently on the principle of exfiuno dare litcem.'^' Mr. Champernowne was in the habit of preachinja; contro- versial sermons, for wh ch, indeed, both by nature and educa- tion, he was very we!) fitted. Like most combative men, he was short in st.iture, red faced, and somewhat bullet-headed. Although he owed !iis preferment to the (/ountess's regird for her cousin, the clergyman was fully cogni/ant of his duty to the Church of England, and it is but just to ackjiowledge that he performed that duty well. In every respect he was armed de pied en cap against Romanism, and the specious sermons of Father Nevins, at the Chapel, were more than neutralized by the really able discourses at the parish Church, in whi< h the dignity, rights and claims of the English Church we e triumphantly vindicated. Besides having taken a high place in classics at the University, Mr. Chanipernowne was a keen logician, and the visitors at the Hall were seldom at a loss for polemic subjects after morning service on Sunday. The Vicar had chosen his text, — the fifth verse of Psalm 46 : " God is in the midst of her ; therefore shall she not be removed ; God shall help her, and that right early." Being in good condition, and his tolmcco burning freely, the parson experienced little difficulty in commencing his sermon, in itself a good omen, as we have heard literates and penny-a-liners often declare. His pen was gliding pretty rapidly over the paper, and everything promised well for a good discourse. Having reached the bottom of the first folio, Mr. Champer- nowne was moved to read his introductory sentences, which he did aloud: • " It has been said of the judiciou^Hooker that he effected two great things for the English C^ich, as it existed in his day. First, he provided her with a broad, intelligible, and worthy theory ; secondly, he demonstrated her thorough capability to be the Church of a great people and nation, her adaptation to man's nature and to human society, the reason- ableness of her customs, the breadth and scope of her aims and ♦ '• Out of smoke to bring litsht." 103 UPON THIS ROCK. freedom of her working whon compared with the narrowness of all other Ijodies and so-called churches which apparently conspire to occupy her place. It seems to me that this great and historic Church is the means provided by Almighty God for the maintenance and continuous progression of t'le life of this dear England of oufs, a religious life that does not, can- not, find expression or exercise in any or all of the more than two hundred jarring sects of to-day : a religious life which continues to manifest itself by, and through, the one Church vhich has so grandly marched onward throughout the centuries from the time when the Saxon invaders of our island were won to the faith of Jesus by the ;cealous Scoto-Irish missionaries, who derived their consecration and million, not from usurping Rome, but from independent Keltic bishops. Since the time when Virgilius of Aries consecrated Augustine^ we are able clearly to observe the unbroken heritage and con- tinuity of this Church, a Church destined in God's good time to " Here the Vicar found himself at the bottom of the page^ and at this moment cam£ a knock at the door, followed by thoi entrance of a servant. " If you please, sir, Mr. Desmond, from the Hall, would like to see you," and here the young woman began to cough,, compelled thereto by the smoke. "Mr. Desmond, eh?" said the clergyman, looking regret- fully at his manuscript ; *' um ! well, yes, show him in, Mary.** Upon entering the study, Hugh himself, — albeit no stranger io tobacco, — was fain to cough a little. Observing this, Mr. Champernowne threw up the window as far as possible, and then, shaking the youug man heartily by the hand, requested him to be seated. "A bad habit this of mine," he said, " for which I fear I can allege neither ej^cuse nor precedent from those of my cloth. Our old friend^ the ancients, were, at any rate, no slaves to tobacco." \ f *' Except we liberally construe the line, * Pressa Yenafrauitt quod bacca remisit olivse,' " * answered his visitor. " Ha, ha ! " said the Vicar, " bacca, eh ? Well, it seems to Yiie that you have a bad habit also. I wish you could have ♦ ** Wliatthe pressed berry of Yenafrlau olive yielded,"— an attempt 33 punning: wtuch almost proves that Hugli jiesuioud would pick a pookfit. H UPON Tins uOcK. 103 :rauaj known Calverley, of Christ's College, of whom in my Cambridge days we all expeoted so much, and who nn'ght have been, hud he been poorer in this world's goods, the glory of this our modern England. As a punster, wliether in Latin or in English, he is unrivalled. Ah, there were giants in those days. Seehiy, the Ecce Homo man, Walter J>esaut, Gell, — but Calveiley was in all things the chief. And as for tobacco, well, who does not know Ins marvellous song in praise of the weed 1 " " I assure you," said Desmond, " that T never heard it. My friend and teacher, however, was an Oxford man, so I suppose he had no knowledge of your Cambridge worthies." " At any rate, it must have been many years after your friend's time," said the clergyman. " However, i upi^ose the power and genius of our race have not deparu d ; the coming men, who are now boys at school or in pinaiores, will worthily maintain that pre-eminence of mind ar ' body which is their hereditary birthright. Yes, my yourg friend. I Jjuve no apprehenL.v ; )f that ; depend upon it that the Ar^^lt; 3axon race will one day lead the world." "It ^;•J,ems to me, sir," said Hugh, "that it does so a^•3ady ; but you are forgetting Calverley's song." "Ah, you would like to hear it? Well, T cannot pretend to sing it, as I have a voice like a frog going a-wooing, but I ean repeat it." *' There is a rapture exceeding all measure, Left to enliven this sorrowful world ; Who does not think of tliat moment with pleasure When tirst round his lips the wreathing smoke curled i Parents look grave or sick, Call it a nasty trick. Say it is ruinous — say it is wrong ; Happy indeed his lot, Who for these caring not, Putt's lUce a chinmey-pot All the day long. ** Some who are troubled with endless entreaties, , Strive for a time this delight to forego ; ;! Vain are their efforts, their failure complete is,— Life without smuking's unbearably slow. Soon their mistake they find, Leave all such thoughts behind, - i04 UPON THIS KOCK. 4 ■I >■ id' r ii'i k if i ;'!;■ Mi" I ' Wise resolutions all vanish in smoke ; And to their cost they see, That if their life must b« Unfumigatory, 'Twill be no joke. •* Ladies may talk of their otto of roses,— Oh, there is something that's bettor by far I Believe me, an odour more fragrant reposes In a whiff from a pipe or a penny cigar. Healer of every smart, • Soother of every heart, Would I could tell all thy praises in song. Incense at Pleasure's shrine, Oh, that thy fumes divine Curled round this nose of mine All the day lung." " There," said Mr. Champernowne, " is it not a pity that Raleigh is not alive just now to hear that? " " I wonder what an old Sunday-school teacher I once had, — a rabid anti-tobacco man and Teetotaler, — would say if he heard it ? " said Desmond. " It is really very good, and I must ask for a copy of it at your leisure." " Never mind your rabid Antis, young man. They crop up everywhere, like fanatics in religion ; but, after all is sa\d, healthy common sense must always be in the ascendant. But pardon me : this, you see, is one of my sermon days ; is there anything I can do for you ? If so, let me know at once." ^ " I will not detain you long, sir,' replied Hugh • " but the fact is I am rather troubled in mind. Naturally, of course, I have laid the matter before my confessor, — and, indeed, I have talked it over with Father Nevins outside of the confes- sional, — but still I am perplexed and sorely troubled." " Perplexed and troubled ? " inquired the Vicar : " are you beginning tc realize that you have wandered out of the safer way ; that your change of communion was a leap in the dark ; and that, after all, the grand old historic tlhurch of England can alone, for Englishmen, satisfy the intellect and the emo- tions, can alone maintain and presei ve the continuity between the past and the future, without stigmatizing the one or endeavouring by futile anathemas to impede the other ? If so, I rejoice to know it." And the zealous Anglican once more grasped and shook the yonng man's hand. Bel or| r •^wr UPON THIS ROCK. 106 you iafer [axV ; lland |eino- Iween le or once " No, Mr. Champernowne, my trouble does not lie in that direction, although I do sometimes think ray change, as you term it, was made without adequate study of the historical claims of the Anglican Church, and especially without a fair examination of the question of the validity of Anglican orders. No, sir ; the truth is, that, a fortnight ago, I encoun- tered a commercial traveller, down at the " Arms," who called himself a Secular! ^t. He was, I think, a pronounced infidel, and his words have troubled me very much since." " Ah, yes, I see," said the Vicar ; " I heard something of this from Appleton. And so you are being troubled by doubts, doubts that go to the very foundation of Christianity, — per- haps of all religion 1 You have talked with Mr. Nevins 1 — well, since it was not under the seal of confession, perhaps you will not object to tell me what he said 1 Of course, I know we are speaking as man with man, — as friend with friend. Well, what did Mr. Nevins say ? " " His advice was doubtless excellent," said Hugh, " but I find it rather ineffectual. I cannot repel or even parry a doubt by reciting the A nfrelus ; and even while at my prayers the temptations assail me. In short, the Devil seems to be always at my elbow ever since I met that man." " My lad," said the clergyman, " permit me to say freely what I think. At Christ's, my chums used to call me Cautious Champy, — I suppose because I was somewhat clear-headed and practical. Well now, you see, you missed the advantages of a public school : your education, excellent though I know it was, threw you back upon yourself when you should have mingled with your fellows. Fortunately, — and, indeed, I almost marvel at this, — you did not develop into a prig, as others would have done, and do, under like circumstances j but you became an ascetic, a devotee, — in short, a fanatic. Of the world and its ways, of the burning questions of the time, you knew little or nothing. That education had to come later on, — indeed, you are even now being educated by the world. Were you now to retire into a monastery, — say to Mount Melleray in Ireland, — you could not escape. The seed has been sown, and it must germinate, — it depends upon your- self and the Divine Grace whether the harvest is to be wheat or tares." ^ " I do not know," answered Hugh, " perhaps you are right. I have written out a Protestation of Faith by St. Vincent of . s ,' I' ■i 106 UPON THIS ROCK. 'H Ferrers, which I have fastened to the wall of my bedroom, and which I repeat before retiring to rest j yet I do not know that it helps me." " I know it," said the Vicar, " it is a protestation nunc pro tunc that you will live and die in the Christian, or the Catliolic faith. Believe me, all this will avail you but little. You must fairly and squarely fight your doubts, and for this purpose I will lend you all the best evidential books in my library. You will find, with God's blessing, that Christianity is not at war witi\ reason. My dear fellow, this has been my f case also ; depend upon it that your bounden duty is to use' the reason God has given you, and depend upon it that your faith will be strengthened thereby. Come on Monday for the books. And now. Good bye ! be not afraid : I tell you that Infidelity can be vanquished on the ground of its own choosing." " Well, sir," said Desmond, " I thank you very much, and I will follow your advice. Inde'^d, I feel better, I think, already for your assurance ; as it was the sense that I was acting like a timorous recreant that troubled me so. By the way, before I go, let me call your attention to the bridge over the brook near the vicarage gate. A carriage from the Hall was before me as I came here, and the driver had to lead his horses over the bridge." '* Ah, it was Lady Blanche, who was to call upon Mrs. Champernowne, this afternoon. I tliink. That heavy rain of last week undermined the parapet on the left hand side ; but tije gardener says it will be dry enough for us to repair it tomorrow. All the same, I will have a lantern hung up there to-night. Good bye ! God bless yott ! " Left once more to himself, the Vicar refilled his meerschaum, and in a few minutes he was again enveloped in a cloud of controversial theology and smoke. As Desmond approached the gate of the vicarage grounds, he perceived that some preparation had already been made to repair the broken wall of the little bridge. It was, at pie.sent, unquestionably a some- what dangerous place for an unskilled coachman, the bridge being very narrow, wliihj the brook murmured along a rocky bed at least fourteen feet below the level of the load. Mugli was glad to know that Mr. Champernowne had ordered the iuuncnliate repair of tUv wall. Just as lie stepped upon the bidge, — which was a solid structure of hewn stone, — Desmond UPON THIS ROCK. m laum, ud of >ached some n wall some- bridge rocky Hugh red the Don the esmoud hoKrd the sound of wlieels on the gravel path, and, looking backward, he saw Lady lihmche's carriage. The coaclnnan, aware of the fallen wall, was holding in a i>air of very unwilling horses, and at the moment when the organist opened the gate the carriage stopped. A middle-aged lady, who sat beside the Earl's daughter, had negligently dropped either her handker- chief or a wrap, and the coachman had got down to recover it. Desmond, who was waiting to shut the gate, was suddenly horrified to see the horses start oti' at a brisk trot before the coachman came up.to the carri.age. A whi^k of the tail of one of the animals had drawn the lines abo\i^^ their heels, and the high-spirited horses were now rushing along the path. Hugh saw that the chances were a thousand to one agairjst the carriage being kept strictly to the middle of the bridge, — indeed, it was clearly inclining to the. left side. There was no time for hesitation, — scarcely enough for thinking ; but in a moment or two he had re-crossed the little bridge, and running straight to the horses' heads, at the imminejit peril of being knocked dow;. and over-run, he succeeded, by sheer strength and weight, in arresting their progress. "Lady Blanche," he cried, " you must get out and cross the brigde on foot. Look sharp, Jarvis ! these horses are very restless." Jarvis, — who was trembling like an aspen, — assisted the two ladies to descend, and then, coming to Hugh's assistance, he patted and coaxed the animals until their calmness was assured, after which he led them carefully over the bridge and into the road. The two ladies showed no other sign of fear beyond their extreme paleness, the elder of the two, — Lady Margaret Constable, — app(iaring rather tremulous, however, as indeed she might have been excused for doing. The hero of the adventure, liowever, presentee^ a sor»'y spectacle. His hat had been thrown to the ground and trampled, and the right sleeve of his coat, torn by some attachment of hoise furniture, allowed the blood from a slight laceration of the arm to be plainly seen. H , too, was pale, as even an athlete v/ould have been after such a struggle ; ami it will not, I hojie, lessen the reader's interest in the young man if 1 add that he looked very nmch as though he wanled to sit or lie down. " Mr. Desmond," said Lfidy Blanche, extending her hand, " you have done a noble, g illant action, and have saved our lives. We will not trouble you now with expressions of ■ :)• iM li r 108 UPON THIS ROCK. 11 gratitude ; but I insist that you take my arm to the carriage. In a few minutes we can be home. Margaret, hasten and arrange the cushions, he looks about to faint ! For heaven's sake, do make haste ! " Lady Margaret hurried toward the road, while Desmond protested that he was not seriously hurt or weakened, and begged to be allowed to walk to Holmwood. •' Not another word ! " said Lady Blanche ; " not another word ! I know your imperative nature ; but this time / insist. Nay, take my arm ; — are you af iai4 of me 1 have you an aversion to me ? Hugh Desmond, will not you suffer her whose life you have just now saved to lead you to the carriage ? " As he looked into the dark, and now reproachful, eyes of the lovely lady who thus entreated and commanded, Hugh Desmond realized, almost with consternation, that something like that which men term Destiny was at work interweaving the warp and woof of their respective lives. " Lady Blanche," he said, as he looked into her eyes as though he would fain read her most secret thought, ' let it be as you will, although you honour me too much and rate my service too highly. Not, I mean, with respect to saving your lives, — for, indeed, thanks to God, I have been the means of doing that, — but in so far as I have incurred danger by my action. Remember, however, that I am but the poor plebeian music-master, and no meet companion for " " For an Earl's daughter, you would say ? " answered the lady, as they slowly crossed the bridge. "As if I had not long since known that in your inmost thoughts you could say to me as the * unbeguiled ' one said to Clara Vere de Vere — ** * Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came.' Listen to me, Hugh Desmond. You know the Phoinix Tower. liOt it be as I will, and meet me there to-morrow at noon. I must, and will, tell you what I have long felt ; — / must and will. One moment," — and slie arrested their farther pro- gress, — •• here comes Margatet ; say, shall it be so ? " "But, your ladyship," began Hugh, " tiiink of " " I will think of nothing. Let me whisper : Hugh Des- mond, I love you better than my life ! There : will you meet me now ? " UPON THIS ROCK. 109 ( . " Great God ! " said Desmond ; " yes, if only to cure this awful madness." In the landau those two sat facing each other. Not even physical pain prevented Desmond from showing in some mea- sure that he had undergone a severe mental shock, and there w.is even some show of commiseration in the look directed so continuously toward Lady Blanche. Love him ! the idea was well nigh impossible, for what could be the end of an affection 80 misplaced 1 Happily, the letter from his cousin Maurice suggested one way out of the perplexity : ho would resign his siiuation and take refuge in Ireland. Only that way lay de- liverance ; otherwise there would be sensation, scandal, and untold misery. As for the lady, she, too, kept her eyes fastened on the countenance of her i-escuer ; but her look was one of unmis- takable triumph, resolution, and love. Yes, love, however strange it may seem to thee, dear reader, as I acknowledge it seems most strange and unaccountable to me. Were this a novel, I would not have dared such a flight of fancy ; but, aa I have alreadj'^ a-sured thee, this is the record of a life. Ask me not to explain the promptings of the human mind ; but lietake thee t> thy closet or secret chamber, and there reading the fourth ^^Eneid discover, if thou canst, why it was that the unhappy Dido nourished in her veins the wound, and was consumed with secret fire. The Bible tells us that among the things " too wonderful " for Solomon to understand was " the way of a man with a maid," and I, who am as nothing in comparison with Solomon, find it even much harder to account ior the way of a maid with a man. 11 CHAPTER XIV. IN WHICH MR. FLOWERS SEES A GHOST. THE Earl of Guisborough was in the library. It was a vvry long and comparatively narrow room, having at Kiio end an arched recess, which was ornamented with a picture i)y n\\ eminent Academician, — that of a young lady on a \\ liit^' h<»rso advancing with measured steps through the g ite- way of an ancient castle. A gallery of elaborately carved black oak ran along the front side of the room, the opposite L no UPON THIS ROClt. 11' r ' wall, except where the wide fireplace stood within the shelter of a fine mantelpiece, being hidden by well-filled book -shelves. Were it possible for one to become reconciled to the loss of liberty, surely this would be a place wherein even imprison* inent would be deprived of its bitterness. How like the irony 3f Fate it is that nee-rly always the conditions which favour the gathering of such a tliesaurus of the loftiest productions af the human mind should also remove the strongest incentive bo their proper use ! The Earl stood with his back to the fireplace, listening with 3vident interest to his chaplain, who, seated beside the long library table, had turned liis chair half round so that his profile was presented toward the nobleman, his right hand resting on an open book. " Yes, my lord," said the priest, after a brief pause, "it was i brave and courageous deed. Yet, knowing the young man is well as I do, I think I should have been more surprised had he acted less promptly. The Irish blood in his veins — in 1, as I liave already told your lordship, he comes dire' Ay from the great Desmond around whose standard the south of Ireland once rallied, — causes his mind to w®rk in flashes. We characterize such natures as impulsive ; they are always swift to act, and dangerously rapid in thinking." " Which possibly explains the difficulty we have experienced in ruling the sister island, eh ? " said the Earl. " In one sense, yes," replied Father Nevins, "because this very impulsiveness of character has always stood in the way Df combination and unity. Even without their internecine rt'ligious difl'erences the Irish would be hard to govern either from within or without. Yet they are easily influenced by their emotions ; win their afl'ection and they will be yours for sver. No, my lord ; if my advice may influence your lord- ship, I do not think I would otter Mr. Desmond anything like a reward or any other recognition than thanks." " You are right, Father Nevins, and I am much obliged to you for presenting the case in its proper light. I wish yoi o remain during the interview ; t would summon my daughter, but 1 am almost afraid that she will scarcely be so composed as I could wish her to i)e. She, too, is impulsive. During our audience with the Holy Father, Lady Guisborough was allected even to tears. Our little i3hinche, — then about five or six years old, — in .some manner connected the Pope with the UPON THIS ROCK 111 obliged to daugViter, composes )rough w^^s 1 about live |pe with the cause of her manima's weeping; and, very much to my sur- prise and regret, she, in her eliildish way, n)ado what was really a formidable attack on the person of liis Ilolinuss, and it was some time before I could pacify iier. However, I wish you to be present," — and here his lordship rang the bell. •' Roberts," said the Earl, as the servant appeared, " I wish to see Mr. Desmond, the choir-master, here in the library ; " ano! the man of powder and livery vanished as noiselessly as he came. " So this young man will, you tell me, probably be a landed gentleman in course of time," said the Earl. "Well, had it been otherwise, and if ho felt the vocation, I would have gladly assisted him to the priesthood." " Yes, my lord, I read his cousin's letter ; but even were it otherwise, I do not think Mr. Desmond would have entered the Church." " You mean, would have taken orders. Father Nevins, I [»nsunie?" inquired^ the Earl, who, like many other cdueated llouian Catholics, did not appear altogether to relish the custom, often so evident among the clergy, of speaking of the Church precisely as though it consisted wholly of bishops, priests and nuns. " Of course," assented the chaplain, " and I base my opinion mainly upon my own observation. I am sure that he will in time lead a much more active, stirring life." Here the door opened, the footman entered and, with a profound bow to his master, allowotl Desmond to enter the lil)rary, and again retired. "How do you do, Mr. Desmond?" said the Earl. "I re- quested your presence here this morning in order that I may tliank you most sincerely for your gallant rescue of my daughter and Lady Margaret Constable from what, had it not been for your courage and presence of mind, would have been a frightful accident. Allow me, also, on the part of the ladies, to convey the assurance of their lasting gratitude. I confess I should be glad to show in some manner likely to bene.'it you, or to improve your fortunes in life, my sense of the obligation under which you have laid us all, although, as I learn from Kither Nevins, Providence has opened to you the prospect of H future for which your education and natural endowments s(.'( Ui specially to have fitted you. Let me assure you, however, that you may always coui^t upon my inHu<^nce to forward, you c 11 r ■ * ;.'• J 112 UPON THIS ROCK. II } interests, whenever you may feel that that Influence would be of service to you." •* I thank your lordship very much for your kind words and good opinion," answered the organist ; •• and I am deeply grateful to Almighty God that he permitted me to be the instrument of his mercy and loving-kindness. As for what I did, it was by no means a very daring or perilous exploit, and I am amply repaid by the kind and flattering recognition of your lordship and the ladies. There is, however, one favour that I would like to prefer to your idvdship," " Let me know it at once, if you please, Mr. Desmond. You may be sure that it will be granted, I think." " Well, my lord, Jarvis, the coachman, apprehends that he has incurred your displeasure. He explained to me last night that there would have been little danger but for the broken Wfill at the bridge, as the horses could not ha\e gone beyond the gate of the vicarage. May I venture so far as to inter cede for him with your lordship?" " He displayed a want of judgment, however, that nearly resulted in the loss of two or three lives," — and the Earl of Guisborough frowned severely. *' I had resolved upon dis- missing him from my service. I will see him, however, and he shall understand what he owes to your intercessioti." "Thank you, my lord. Have you any further communica- tion to make to me ? " inquired Desmond. "Nothing more, llr. Desmond, except to repeat the assur- ance of my gratitude for your gallant conduct," said the nobleman, and, witli a respectful bow to his emj.iloyer and the chaplain, the young man left the library. The Phoenix Tower stood at the north-western extremity of Holmwood Park, on the very highest ground in the neigh- bourhood. It was said to have formed part of a castle built during the reign of the Red King, and was a four-sided struc- ture battlemented and machicolated, having a low doorway, approached by a flight of stone steps at the end of a causeway of granite bordered by a parapet wall. Only the upper por- tion of 1 he tower could be seen from the Hall, as the mound upon whicli the old castle once stood was now covered with grand old forest trees. As he ascended the hill, Hugh Dtvtiioiid could not help being impressed by its sylvan beauty, however troubled hn was at the ordeal before him. Arrived UPON THIS IIOCK. 113 emity of t\e built ed struc- door-way, causeway pper pov- ve mound red with m beauty, Arrived at the causeway, lie tunicd his gaze back tosvaid Jioluiwood Hall, and a fijcliiii,' of ab.solulo teit'or c*ine over liiiii at the tliou;^lit that lie w.is about to hold a cjatidestiric n)eotin() little in unison with it, that the yoinig nian sighed almost MS though he had been op])r'cssed wich a sense of guilt. Tui-n- ing once more toward the old tower, he proceeded up the causeway, pausing at length as his eyes encountered something that caused his heart to leap and throb as though it sought to hurst its limits. There, at the foot of the old staircase, stood the Lady Blanche I\leadows. She was apparently in the act .)f picking a blossom from some tall {lowering shrub ; her left hand re.^ted on her bosom ; but lier downcast eyes saw nothing objectively. She was e> idently in a reverie, the blossom ii'iuaining ungathered although its stem was bent between her lingers, lier dress, of some light fabric, closely fitted her ijucenly figure, the skirt l)iing gracefully gathered up by a ilouble-twisted cord festooned and tasseled. Hugh Desmond was compelled to acknowledge that she was superbly beauti- r'ul, a woman for whom, in the olden times, when the Pluenix r*-\ver surmounted a hjrdly castle, lain es would have been s!ii\('red, and whusw praises minstrels would have sung. A thrill of pleasure, of pride, came over him at the thought of being beloved by such a being, and for a moment prudence iuul its dictates seemed to have tlown to the winds. He ste,iped forward with something like ardour, but reason came to his assistance, aud, raising his hat, he gravely saluted Lady iiianehe. (\»uld it b(? that lie had ever thought her haughty? Were |t'ver such dark eyes so gentle if Did ever blush so roseate nver.>pread so peail-like a cheek? Reader of mine, be thankful tli.it the chronicler's pen is halting, his hand unskilful, his Ibloud cooled by time, or even thou thyself mightest have been ■' ■ I , I ! ■' , 1 L,^ 114 UPON THIS nOCK. made to love her picture as tl)8t pen would have drawn it. The hand she gave hkn Desmond raised to his lips. Had death been the penalty, he would have ventured none the less. " I knew you would ccnie," she said, — and her tones sent a thrill to his very heart, — " although I dread even to imagine what you must think of me." " Lady Blanche," he said, " I think of you almost as I do of one of the blessed saints of heaven. I am unworthy that you should even bestow a thought on me, and I am here, not to expostulate, but to beseech you to renu'mber who and what you are, to ask you always to regard me as one of your humble, devoted servants, I thank (Jod that T can answer to my own conscience that never in word, act, cfv thought, have T sought to establish any kind of influence over your mind. Forgive me, Lady Blanche, for reminding you that you termed me proud. Yes, I am proud, — too proud to aspire even in thought where Uod and Nature have forbidden me to enter." " You are here because I desired it, and I desired it because I knew that, since the artificial restrictions wliich kept us asunder would have to be passed, they would have to Ij passed by me. But first let me inquire if you were seriously hurt yesterday ? Do you suffer any pain ? I shall never forget your struggle with the horses." " Nay, liady Blanche, a good night's rest has removed the slight soreness T felt." " Then you slept well, did you, after so frightful an adven- ture?" " Except for one brief dream, my lady, yes." " A. dream 1 and you so wearied ; — tell it me." " Soon after T had retired, I thought a being from another! world glided into my room, approached and placed her lips onj my brow. It was all so real, that I was almost inclined toj extend my arms to arrest the vision." " I am glad you did not, Hugh, because one must not trrj to touch a spirit. And now that I have gone so far, whalj would you have me say ? " <' My lady, " " Stop ! You must not, shall not call me so. From i\i day when first T saw you, your image has been always witl me. You reuiember that even tben you were i\ot so cullod and cold us you would lia\e uje think. liemembn tij ^ «en«d ''0 tin ^t>, in I li -^ UPON 'III IS ROCK. UT) I do that e, Tvot , -wbat I your Aver to t, have termed even iu enter. , because kept us ^-e to V3 seriously i\\ never uivtcliefl street girl, And remember that you Imve a heart. T cannot, would not, recall my atiection, — it is no truant, it haH gone freely and voluntarily. Do not say that T have acted unworthily; do not disparage yourself; — tell me cwily this : iiiiiy T say I love you?" " Hut con.sider : the daughter of an Karl to love a teaehor ! What will the world say? your father, mother, all your nolile relatives and friends ? You would he an outcast, scorned and rejected, — and in return for what ? Deal L>idy Blanche, — nay, Blanche if you will have it so, — thii*'-: of all this and more, much more. I am a nobody, a poo^ mariner's son, a plebeian, who will neces.sarily have tostiuggle with the world for the very bread I eat. You must not yield to any sudden intluence, any supposed predilection ; — you, a lady of England, dare not condescend to me. It cannot be." " Listen, Hugh. Were my father a king, yet still should f love you, and if you were to return my love, I would Ije yours in spite of fate." " Hush, hush ! I beseech you, dear lady ! you scarcely know what you say." " I know what I say. My mind has long been settled, and nothing that the priests tell us of God having appointed cer- tain stations in life to all mankind influences me at all. Do 1 not know that in all ages the true aristocracy has been that of intellect, of genius, of learning? Have I not read and road far enough, to well-nigh emancipate my mind from the rusty old fetters imposed on us? Is it not true, — cannot you, a scholar to whom the wisdom of old time is as freely open as the knowledge of to-day, cannot you perceive that it is now becoming our duty to dare to think for ourselves? But T fur- get : Derhaps you cannot love me. Is that so ? Perhaps you alrea(^ have also learned to love ? Oh, do not say so I " Was he so carried away by the impetuosity and vehenjence of this maiden that during this strange interview no thou/^ht of Edith AUyn crossed his mind? Who shall say how this niay have been ? Perhaps he already had brought himself to believe that Edith was betrothed to another. "No, Lady Blanche," he said, "T am in that respect (juittt free. But moved as I am by your words, 1 must still ox;«>'*-s my sense of the wide distance that separates you and me. Who that sees you can refrain from admiring your beauty ? Wiio, in my place, could hope to do more than humbly wor- IIG UPON THIS KOCK. ship so lovely a oroatnre ? Tt is not litflit that you should ov(!r af,'uiii uddi-css mi' in It-rms of ciitrcaty ; :iiis}i deserved. Indeed, my nerves are so shalcet. that 1 am ului MrJ ^^fy evij sheeted and 'ozengesj 'behind brj idg, ''bout Oil this UPON THIS ROOK. 117 A, i iV"^ afraid to ritl> to the railway station, but tlit'se horse's are very nice, quiet anifualti, and the roads are good and sufe. It is really ho terrible to think that my last day at Holmwood was 80 nearly the kst of njy existence. God bless you, sir I you will always have mf prayers." As the carriage rolled away towards the railway, Hugh, who wanted very much to be alone with his own thoughts^ proceeded up the avenue toward the Hall. In their common sitting-room he found Mr. and Mrs. Flowers. •' I am glad you have come, Mr. Desmond," said the old lady, "as Mr Flowers is just now shocking bad company. He insists that he has seen a ghost ; and you know how stubbornly he adheres to an opinion, no matter how absurd it may be." " A ghost, indeed, Mrs. Flowers," answered Hugh, " and at midday too. I tho'"Tht such visitors never appeared after 't\e glow-worm sho the matin to be near.' " ** Nay, my young friend," said the schoolmaster, *' I have never rated demonology, witchcraft and stories of apparitions beyond the estimate which reason urges us to put on them. Of course, I say this mindful of our ignorance with respect to what Almighty God may, in his wisdom, allow in certain cases. To doubt or deny that disembodied spirits have made themselves visible on certain extraordinary occasions, would be a grievous sin. But I am convinced that I have seen some- thing not of earth, — not at midday, but almost at midnight." "Now, Mr. Desmond," said Mrs. Flowers, "you will have the whole story. As I have already heard it, and do not think it so interesting as to bear repetition quite so early, I think I will go and dress for dinner," — and the good old lady left the room. " Mrs. Flowers does not think the ghost had a message for her, evidently," said Desmond ; " but come, my dear sir, tell me what it is, or was, you have seen. Was it really a sheeted ghost ? " " Last night," said the old man, "my cough kept me awake and annoyed my wife very much. Finding I had left the lozenges, which you remember Appleton advised me to take, ^jehind me on retiring, — which was in some measure your fault, as I am sure Father Nevins' story of the atiair at tho bridge interested us all so much, — I threw my dressing-Giown 'ibout me and went down the corridor. I found the little box oa this very table, and made my way back tQ my room. Just . ! ild tPOlt TltlS ftOCrt. I\ enae )re i came to the door ot your apartitieht, soinething^ girded, rather than walked, noiselessly by me. Oh, there was no illusion, — nothing of the kind, I assure you. You know the story of the Lady Alicia, eh ? of the dark-eyed picture in the gallery 1 " " You mean of the lady who is said to have loved the Puri- tan ? " asked Hugh. " The same ; her portrait is, I think, the most noticeable in the gallery. You read novels ; what is it Dickens says of all the pictures of all the Dedlocks 1 " "That they all looked stupid, I think," replied Hugh, "but surely this Lady Alicia does not look like that 1 " •• Nc, indeed, just the reverse ; but to my mind she looks precisely like our Lady Blanche, of course making allowances for costumes and all that. Well, she was found dead in the Plioenix Tower soon after Marston Moor, where her Roundhead lover was killed. Mr. Desmond, I saw that woman's spirit last night. As it passed me, the face was partly hidden, but it was the Lady Alicia. Of that I am convinced." " Tut, tat, my good friend ! you must have dreamed all this. Put whether you did or not, pray keep the story to yourself : it would never do to start a sw.y of a haunted house now, just before the shooting season." " Of course, of course, I will be careful ; indeed, had not Mrs. Flowers been so sceptical, 1 should never have mentioned it to you. But it was no dream, I assure you." On the following Monday Hugh Desmond began his exam- ination of the Christian evidences. As usual with him, he devoted hi:nself to these studies with great ardour. Mn Champernowne, desiring to begin at the very foundation, had supplied him with works whose object was to prove the exist- ence of God, and to demonstrate that such a Being must necessarily possess certain attributes. This narrative is not a polemical tieatise, so the reader need not fear that he will be led inadvertently into the mazes of controversy, but we may freely state that we have proof positive to sliow tiiat the books he read at this period suggested doubts which otherwise might not liave arisen in Desmond's mind. Many of the assertors of I the absolute necessity of Natural Religion began by asserting j that the primary cause of atheistical thinking was the deprav- ity of the human nature, following in this respect Augustine oil Hippo, who states that " no man denies the existence of God,! bui Go( dm bis swa,i was repui of \Vf w/lOS( one o; Fat over I wi/I al tiiey in tiling f I^egins possess follow h< <^"'y the "lind pro tiie dei ^I'^ginal ^'vine m ^^eodioy, ■ t'ouid not jc'ied to hon whic cr 'the F Jam »f ''>ht Jot iier, aposr es. nunc e in t'le old UPON THIS ROCK. n9 ras in tiri- lein ){ all •♦but looUs ranees in the idhead t spirit en, ^^^ med tXi story to ed bouse had not entioned lis exam- him, ^e ur. Ition, Mtv had the exist- 1e is must not a wiU he we way [theboolcs ^isenng' ssertors ot asserting \e dep igustine vav- but he to whose interest it makes that there should be no God." The more he reflected on this proposition, the more difficult it became for the young man to accept it. Although his inquiries t ^.e being conducted on the strange principle of swallowing the medicine almost before he felt the disease, he was sharp-sighted enough to discover that the impugners and repudiators of the doctrine of a personal Deity were not men of warm passions, not selfish sensualists, but rather persons whose lives would merit the approval of any superior Being one of whose attributes was perfect goodness. Father Nevins happening one evening to find Hugh poring over Butler's " Analogy," thought it his duty to remonstrate. " Mr. Desmond," he said, " if you will take my advice, you will abstain from reading such books. I am convinced that they injure rather than benefit. After all, religion is more a thing of the heart than of the head, and when we begin the attempt to square all mysteries with reason, our faith then begins to wax cold. It is enough for the true Catholic to possess the assurance that the Church, guided by the Holy >)pii-it, is a full and sufficient guide to all truth, and if we follow her decrees, it will be impossible for error to assail us. Only the fool says in his heart, ' There is no God,' because his mind prompts him to desire that there were not one. Read the decree of the fifth session of the Council of Trent on Original Sin, and you will find there the justification of the Divine method, which si quis uon conjfitetnr, anathema sit."" Desmond, however, regarded his studies in the light of a theodicy, a vindication of the way of God to man, and he could not rest content until his own sense of justice was recon- ciled to that way as being based on the very highest, the supren)e righteousness. In short, dear reader, he was troubled over the perplexing theme of the existence of evil, a question [upon which not all the Councils that have been convened since the apostles and elders came together," under the presidency )f James, at Jerusalem have ever been able to throw a gleam 'f light. It was impossible for him to conceal the workings if his mind from Blanche. How frequently they met we need ot here inquire. Sometimes under the twinkling stars, either the old tower or nearer home, almost under the shadow of Lee oi of Ood, * "If any one confesses not, let him be accur8«<}t" r 120 UPON THIS ROCK. ft I Ihe proud home of her ancestors, Blanche Meadows held sweet converse with the man of her choice. At first Hugh dared not even allude to the subjects over which his mind was so exercised, but when at last he did so, he found, very much to his surprise, that Blanche was no stranger to such thoughts. In the society to which she was accustomed, it was impossible to remain ignorant of the great mental conflict of the age : and it was from the lips of the lovely being whom he had learned to love so dearly that even the memory of Edith was obscured that the mariner's son really learned to call in ques- tion the truth of the pretentious revelation which had imposrd ■ shackles upon his intellect almost before he had acquired the power of continuous reflection. It may be that the peculiar- ity of their position in some measure inspired their researches. At any rate, it is certain that these venturesome young persona be^an to read, — somewhat secretly, it must be acknowledged, — certain perilous books and pamphlets to which neither pope nor bishop would have accorded his imprimatur. Reader, I wist not whether thou mayst consider such studies prompted by the Devil, but well I wot that thou wouldest not object to compare notes with such a participator in thy investigations. Doubtless the choir-master felt on these occasions the delights alluded to by the gallant Lovelace. If love can even trans- form a prison cell into an abiding place of Liberty, what can I it not effect in enlightening the mind when two lovers! mutually aid each other in arriving at truth 1 •* When Love, with unconfined wings, Hovers within my gates, And my divine Althea brings To whisper at my grates ; When I lie tangled in her hair, And fettered in her eye, The birds that wanton in the air Know no such liberty." Nevertheless, as too much liberty would be fatal to pedagoj I do not recommend this method of acquiring knowledge the tutorB and professors in public schools. UPON THIS ROCK. 121 held lugh I vras much ights. ►ssible B age ■. lie had ih was a ques- mposfd red the ,ecuUar- earches. persona wledged, aer pope Pleader, I promp' ited object to itigations ^e delights ven trans- what caul ^Q lovers] lowledge CHAPTER XV. In which a rise in life leads to a pall from grace. GLOUCESTER Street, Clerkenwell, is— or was, for the march of improvement may have swept it away ere this, — sacred to lodgings. In the first-floor window of almost every house hung a small placard bearing tiie legend *' Rooms to Let," varied now and again by the superior announcement "Apartments." The inhabitants were mostly of the more respectable class of London arti/ans, whose somewhat pre- carious incomes were supplemented, by the weekly rents of the tenants of such spare rooms as the houses possessed. Being within easy reac]^ of the Strand and Fleet Street, it was really quite a convenient place for a printer to live in, which was precisely what William Curtin thought this evening as he pulled the bell which communicated with the third floor of a house in Gloucester Street. The door was opened by a pale» patient-looking liitle woman, who greeted William with a kiss. " Well, dear," said the little woman, as the two ascended the stairs, " how have you been to-day 1 " The inquiry was made in an anxious tone, for the little woman's husband suffered from a chronic affection of the heart, albeit he was tall, stout, and hale in outward appearance. " Pretty well, Mary," answered her husband, " we have had a quiet day, and I have been on my stool nearly all the time. Still, I am glad to be home, all the same." Curtin 'vas a compositor, employed in the office of The Catholic Herald, a weekly paper devoted to the maintenance of the cause and interests of the Roman Church in Great Britain. His malady, however, sometimes rendered it impos- iSible for him to work at ** the case," and, of course, he found reater consideration extended toward him by his co-religion- sts than he would have had elsewhere among strangers. loreover, the editor and manager of the Herald were of rish extraction, and the fact that William was Irish by birth nd a fervent Catholic made his position much more agreeable hau it might otherwise have been. He was nearly thirty ears old, and liad been married about six years, his wife being Iso Irish, although her parents had come to London when she as almost a baby. Being a skilful needlewoman, and childless, I i I i i r « l22 tjPON THIS RbCft. she was able in the busy season to earn much more than hei' husband could do, she and her husband's sister being in t)ie mantle department of a large and well-known establishment in St. Paul's Churchyard. Upon entering the cosy, well-kept parlour, Curtin threw himself upon the lounge. " Mary," he said, '* come here, darling : listen." The little woman approached her husband, and bending slightly over him, listened intently to the beating of his heart. It was to her a terrible auscultation, for even at a distance of two or three feet from the broad chest of this stalwart man the sound of that ominous palpitation could be distinctly heard. Who shall venture to describe the look of agonized love, of tender pity and commiseration that came over the averted face '{ Withal, it was blended witli'an expression of resignation like that ascribed by painters tb the Dolorous Mother. During more than four years Mary Curtin had wrestled with this sorrow, struggling hard to bring herself to regard it as a manifestation of Divine love. She had brought herself to this degree of submission, but who that knows the depth of a woman's love can doubt or question the awful- ness of her ordeal ? " I try always," said her husband, " to look upon this as a blessing," — here the poor fellow crossed himself devoutly,— " ' O Holy Virgin, example of patience ! by the most painful carrying of the cross on which thy Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, bore the heavy weight of our sins, obtain for us of him, by thy intercession, courage and strength to follow his steps, and bear our cross after him to the end of our lives. Amen.' " For a few moments both were silent, while doubtless the woman's prayer, though not uttered aloud, was no less fervent than that of her huslwind. Once more she kissed liim, smoothed the hair from his forehead, and then proceeded to prepare the evening meal. In a short time tiiey were joined by William's sister, Ntllie, a rosy-cheeked young woman in tliel pr'de of health, and evidently conscious of her buxom coiue-| liness. •' Mr. Taintcr, — Joseph, the manager, — told me to-day, said William, as he stirred his tea, " that Walter, the reportei or toll wai Lib I re Was may be at said . and t bote] "L asked "Y( introdi can ma tbe sen ^eek, V in the d "And now doi] thought, '•epiy to "Ah, for Wil it is." * ^frs. C somewber w^as evide »''ow, env ''ei- broth great gulf laried sc "True ^ you say, sortaJite, "'"<^h bette for the Catholic papers, is looking around for an assistantAIace to- ' Mr. Curtin,' said he, * you are a good stenographer, arenF you 1 ' I said yes, I was al)le to follow an ordinary speakfrpiiJJ m( And I, help U8| tvH, i UPON THIS ROCH. 123 her the lent arew nding iieart. nee oi b man binctly roni'/ed ver the , jsion ot lolorous bin had erseU ^ brouglit t knovf3 le awttt^- this as a oatly,- , painfuM IS Christ, n, by tby and bear I" I Ibtless tlifl Iss fervent Wd ^»"^'L Iceeded tol Vre joined! Inan in t\i«| ^otn come he to-day tie report«i assistant Lher, aren |ry speuVtfl or that I was wheti at home in W'aterford. By the same token, I said, Mr. Taintor, the very best speech I reported was no speech at all, for, begorra, the speaker, who was a Liberal candidate for Parliament, was hustled off the platform. I remember he was an Englishman, and sure it was himself was the scared man that day. B.acon, our foreman, thought, maybe, I was making out that the English were cowards, for he asked how I knew that the candidate was 8careus far. that "lliuisy " isa -4anglcnn for tht* oIIimI paper vipcn w'uirh rc))or(rt are (hijtlk'atcd and iiitilt ii^ii"'!. Liki-wi-o, it signinctna nitc of the Bunk of KuRland,— and al^^'> of t,h(,! iiank of Elegrauce. < "Bloody," or '' blood-staiiir-d Tr( land," -the 'dcKigiiatioa used by the I iiiprror Frederick 11. in his (cailiint aojJoaltoKngland, Fvanco and Ocrmany opiiose the advance of Ihe jMogal lurlara. I 126 UPO!f THIS ROCK. %t n easy society he became a member or an associate. On the livening of his introduction lie found himself cordially welcomed by four or Ave law clerks, two medical students, three wood engravers, the artist who illustrated the Catholic magazine, and a weak-eyed, diminutive young genius celebrated in litera- ture as being the author oi a thrilling series of highwaymen's adventures, the gem of the whole list being "Three String Jack," — a title which may possibly have had some association with the tragic mode of the chivalrous hero's exit from society and the world. Among the Bohemians this imaginative gentleman was yclepcd Thackeray Junior, and it seemed that he did not object to a sobriquet which placed him among the lesser gods, while no Senior appeared to protest against the apotheosis. Under the presidency of Joseph Taintor the Bohemians showed themselves to be of a hospitable, convivial nature. Jokes, songs, and anecdotes abounded, and Thackeray Junior welcomed the neophyte in a speech which evoked ringing applause, followed of course by "glasses round, gentlemen," by order of the chair. And so they kept it up until host Ruby, — whose appearance fully justified his patronymic, — came to announce that the hour had arrived when, in accordance witii a Parliamentary edict framed by legislators who regarded all good Ik)hemians with bitter envy, it devolved upon him to shut the portals of the "Crown." Here it was that one of the medical students covered himself with undying glory. Grasping mine host by the hand, he insisted that he should allow his health to be drunk in a bumper at his, the student's, expense, the landlord to concoct the beverage and to share in the potation. Against such resolution as that displayed by the medical student opposition would have ava,iled about as much as the determination of a mob of unarmed, half-starved Socialists to withstand the Horse Guards. The thing had to be done, and done it accordingly was, while the Bohemians sang in chorus — *' For he's a jolly good fellow ; For he's a jolly good fellow ; For he's a jolly good fellow ; — Hip, hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! " When he reached Ihe outer air it seemed to William Curtin that Fleet Street wasenvelopt;d in a very peculiar fog, thiough Kvhich the lamp posts seemed to be multiplied indelinit<;ly, audi Upon TtllS UOOK. i^ jmians lature. Junior ringing ,en," by , Ruby, came to ice with rded all him to it one of .g glovy^ e should Indent's, share in layed by about as if-starved lam Curtin L, througli luiLtily, iii'^M hy wliiclj his articulation was strangely alFocted. His friend T.iintor and Tliackeray Junior insisted on accompanying him to tlie corner of Gloucester Street, where they parted from liim with various expressions of brotherhood, indicative of the strong spirit of fraternity by which all true Bohemians were animated. Never before had Mary Curtin seen her husband so much under the influence of liquor. Heated in his own parlour the whole aspect of the man was altered. A letter lay on the tal»le, and William, with unsteady hand, tore open the envelope. " See here," he cried, " this is how they order me about, as if I were a dog. By Heaven ! I am a mean, miserable cur to be at their beck and call every day and every hour ! I tell you, Mary, and you, Nellie, that there is no reason why you should have to toil like slaves for the coins that they give. Why cannot you ride in your carriage like they do ? Why must I fawn and crouch and lick the dust before these people?" " Hush, William darling ! it is the will of God," said his wife, soothingly ; '• and surely, dear, we have much to be thankful for." " The will of God ? " he replied , " aye, they tell us so ; but why, Mary, why ? Ah, tell me why. Was it the will of God that my father's cruelty drove me away from Waterford to Bristol ? was it the will of God that I and another should have to tramp to London with but a few pence in our pockets ? was it the will of God, think you, that hunger, — hunger, woman I —drove us to take three or four turnips from a tield by the roadside, and that the owner, — some slioneen of a squire, curses on his head this night ! — should come along in his while we boys sat under the hedge eating them ? caiTiage Arrah ! curses, I say, on his head this night ! he got out of the coach and made us fall on our knees before him and bei; his pardon ; and we did it, we did it, Mary, to keep outside the prison walls ! Yes, woman, we, poor starving devils, did it, when if we had the souls of men we would have dashed his old brains on the ground. Oh, the will of (Jod, is it? Damn them, I say ! damn them all for a heartless crew of hellish tyrants and oppressors ! " — and he ground his teeth in his rage. It was some time ere they could induce him to go to bed. When at length he retired, and after Nellie also had sought her room, Mary Curtin fell on her knees and said her Rosary, praying long and fervently for her beloved husband. When, I I •- I 128 UPON THIS ROCK. her devotions ondcid, her mind grew calrntir, s]\v took up iht- letter which Williiun had crumpled and thrown Kuoriitully in the ground. It was a request from Mr. Walter tliat on the ensuing Wednesday he, Curtin, should proceed to Jlohnwood Hall in JIutlandsliire, to rejwrt the proceedings of a meeting' convened to pioiiiot«; the formation of a league ch signed to aid in recovering the rights of the Holy Father and the Church in Italy. Th(^ following morning found the reporter very "iiwell and very penitent. Fortunately he belonged to a Clnireh whieh makes it easy for the sinner to white-wash his soul, no mattes' how weighty the sin. J3psides the terrible heade.che und(n- which lie sufl'cred, Curtin turned with loathing from the sight of food, so that, as may easily be surmised, his repentance was quickened and (encouraged by the physical wretchedness re- sulting from the excessive good-nature of the Bohemians. Consequently, his " act of contrition " was fervid enough, and during the morning he made his way to the Italian Church, Ilatton Garden, where, casting himself before a ghastly image • of Christ being prepared for the sepulchre, he t;arnestly prayed for mercy. Nevertheless, dear reader, I sometimes fancy there was more of the true natural man in the intoxicated l>oliemian of the preceding night, thnn there was in the ailVigiited devott^^ groaning in spirit before yonder figure of a man blood-dabbled and done to death by cruel hands. '' CHAPTER XVI. WHEREIN LORDS AND LADIES HELP A FLStlERMAN. ONE of the most highly gifted Englishmen of the nine- teenth century, after mentally surveying the whole stream of the world's history, says : — ■ ** But what was boforo us we know not. And Ave know not what shall succeed. "t "We do, however, know enough of man's history in the past to compel us to turn with shuddering horror from the conteni- t Matthew Arnold, " The River of Time*" *"Kd of the ^ tThol 'lirovv '''Hauil "'"Nut) .• Thol ''^''''/'Jlclj ?ffitomer ^;^ fruo o| c!cnc(>, it Jio one w tJ'c JoavJ fi'md, isT r<'smt ia.l "'ilji.ston' ';'"*flod it Jiiniiaryl ,. Hl3 V "J«KUise, *".vs it is lin-nt An Piactlcec tJPON THIS ROCK. 129 e wbole the pa^^ ]i';i)iuti oi the ci'iuios and iiiliuiuanities of Superstition, of that f.iMuticisiii which has ui'i^ed men to "offer heads to Hades, and to liis iitlici- ji jHortal,"* to perpetrate Atrocities the bare men- tion of whiL'h .iliiio.st disorders the well-balanced mind to the loint of n'-irLtin'5 that all the priesthoods of the world, — the (li^unil)(nvcllcis of pregnant women and infants, the entrail .s( innei'S, whose hands were laved in human blood, and whose litirts were dead to mercy, — could not have been served as tli(; Proconsul Tiberius treated the demon priests of the Car- Mi iginiun Saturn.f To be sure, the world has moved some- what sinyo such deeds were possible, and although, as Mr. AinoLl bids us remember, we do not know what may occur or leciu- in future cycles, we may venture to indulge the hope ihat the coming era will, as the wise Spinoza vainly wished iiiiglit occur in his own time, be liberated from all superstition. \\'lio shall ti ly, however, that this will be so who reflects upon th(; astounding exhibition, made so very recently, of a student of Nature proclaiming before the world that lie willingly accepts the autliority of an infallible Church and its head, whilo allow ing human reason to call in question and overthrow the autljority (^f the books upon whose historical accuracy and trustworthiness depend the reality and motif of the revelation ii})on whoso essential truth the existence of that Church and its claims are based ?J * " Kai kcphalas Haide kai to patri pempete phota." was the command of the oracle to the original tribes of Italy. '* Macrob.'* Sat. I. 7. t The Carthaginian hunfan sacrifices were continued long after the over- tliiow of the Carthaginian power. We learn from Tertullian that, in the biconrl Christian century, the Proconsul commanded the sacrificing priests o' Hatiu'n to bo crucified near their altars. See, also, Motley's "Revolt of 1 1 1'! Nullici-lands " for other examples of a priestcraft no less fiendish. For iiiiuiy centuries the Roman Church was the mother of hate and cruelty. ! The "two-fold truth "system of the Middle Ages did not involve so puinful a degree of inconsistency, or imply such dishonesty. Mr. Justice Si(]»hcn says of Mr. Mivart's contention: "Wo have here, then, a plain statement that if the question, whether the Gospel history of Jesus Christ is true or not, is to be decided by the ordinary canons or history and evi- dence, it appears to Mr. Mivart incredible, in so far as it is miraculous, for no one will assert that the historical and critical evidence for the miracle of ihc loaves and tislies, the raising of Lazarus, or the cure of the man born Wind, is stronger than the evidence of the Resiirrection. The necessary result ia, that Mr. Mivart thinks that the New Testament, as it stands, is 11 n historical and untrustworthy, although the doctrines supposed to be re- corded in it are shown to be true by other means." " Nineteenth Century," January, 1888, p. 117. " His whole theory is thus nothing more or less than a ' petitio principii ' (lisKuised. 1 believe the Church to be infallible because the infallible Church ^ays it is infallible." To this I would merely add my conviction, that the K)'tiit Anglo-Haxon race will nevier degenerate so far as to make Lieruorian ( asuisiry iis standard of ethics, or to support any form of religion by tbe practice of self-mendacity. -^ 9 . , I ' !i 130 UfON THIS ROCK. ft Yos, tlic world has moved since the days when humAti Hacrificeii were ottered i«t every grove. Not to Moloch or to Saturn do we now sutter our children to pass through tUv devouring fires, and although Maminon exacts his victim.s daily and hourly, we cunningly disguise our immolations under the veils of political economy and the alleged necessities ot our wonderful Tndustrial System, Despotic princes do not now secrete huge hoards of gems and gold in strongly-fortified caverns and crypts of (Jolconda ; all our capital is invested forsooth, flowing hither and thither, doubling and returning back on itself with increased volume, like an auriferous Mississippi, blessing those whom Providence has placed near the stream, while those whose lot is cast 6n the more distant, arid desert must necessarily acquiesce in the dispensation, even though they perish from thirst. Clearly, no man or society can be blamed because the Nile does jM)t run through the Sahara, while the fate of Prometheus Mght to act as a warning to the impious mortal who would tempt us to turn the desert into a water-way, and thus contravene the decrees and purposes of God. Especially has the world moved during the last century, and so rapid has been the process of change of place that various old institutions have been seriously disturbed thereby. Among these, the Church built upon the Rock has undergone a premonitory earthquake, indicative, it may be, of the great seismic disturbance which will betide when the foremost race of man become convinced that only a^axifragian shock can remove the world-poisoning malaria which, according to Cardinal Newman, floats around the base of "the Rock of St. Peter." There can be little reason for douV>ting that the majority of the Jadies and gentlemen gathered at Hohnwoorl Hall to devise ways and mearf for establishing a league in defence of the rights of Christ's Viofir upon earth, disliked and distrusted the velocity with wh'oh the world had so recently been moving. Besides depriv uij^ St. Peter of his patrimony, — to which he was clearly entitled, iio matter whether Isidore brought the Donation of Constantine from the region sacred to the Father of Lies, or Astolfo from the moon,* — the impious Romans, true to the character ascribed to them by Bernard • vide *' Orlando Furioso," xxxiv. 80 : " Di vari flore ad un grand nionte pasiia," etu. V UPON THIS ROCK. 131 rand mouW of Clairvaux,* had darofi to cast in their lot with unitpd Italy, preferring Victor Emanuel and lilierty to Pius IX. atul the lK)nds of Christ. Of course, the clergy diKliked it all the more, and they showed their dissatisfaction very i)lainly. What guarantee was there, — if such disloyalty proved con- tagious among Catholic people, — that the clergy would not suH'er in their dearest intere^^^? that in their blind demoniac fury, the mob of France, Ital\ and Spain would not imitat« the cruelty practised upon the Chapter of Seez by (Jeollrey of Normandy? a cruelty, as Gibbon observes, of whose " p»tin Hhd danger they might justly conjplain," even although, "since they had vowed chastity, he deprived them of a superfluous treasure."! At the meeting, convened in wlyit was known as the Long Roonj, the Earl of Guisborough proposed that the chair should be taken by the Duke of Norwich, whom he termed "the premier noble of this ancient monarchy," and who was a weak-looking young man, in no respect resembling his ancestor, the " drinking Duke " by whom poor Sir Timothy Shelley was protected from the world. However aristocratic the blood of the asj^embled lords and ladies was, much of it was tissuredly not English, there being counts and countesses by the dozen, bearing such names as Zamoyski, Zulueta, Torre Diaz, and looking, — at least the male portion of them, — very much like restaurant waiters in mufti. A dais or low platform had l)een prep.irrd for the speakers, and there were three Or four reporters at a side table, among them V)eing a special representative of the Catholic press of the metropolis. Of course, in all the arrangements, due care had been taken to preserve the distinctions and gradations of rank. There was a certain 8p8,ce set apart for the patricians, the outer circles being allotted to the inferior quality, among whom were Mrs. Kendall, Alice and Mary, hor daughters, Mr. and Mrs. Flowers, Hugh Desmond, and various other Romnu Catholics of the district. Just as the noble Chairman was assuming his seat of office, the Countess of Guisborough, accompanied by her daughter, entered the room. Being a confirmed invalid, and sutt'ering * " A nation nursed in sedition, cruel, intractable, and scorning to obey unless they are too feeble to resist,"— and much more saintly BiIlin(?8KAte. t "When Geoffrey was master of Normandy, the Chapter of Seez pre- sumed, without his consent, to proceed to the election of a Ri.ihop : upon which he ordered all of them to be — and made all their — be brought him ill a platter." Hume's Hiat. of Eng,, Henry U. (A.l). 1 162). ch. viii. note. J' II 132 TTPOJr THIS ROCK. from a diseased hip-joint, the Countess seldom appeared in public. The present occasion, however, appealed strongly to her sympathies, and, indeed, it was mainly in deference to her wishes that the meeting Had been convened at Holm wood rather than in London. Lady Blanche followed her mother's chair, — which was propelled by a servant, whose sole dutj ^'t wag to perform this ojffice, — and as the party moved past t/io outer circle of chairs, all their occupants rose to bow their respects to the noble lady whose kindness of heart, no less than her sufferings, endeared her to all around. In response to the choir-master's salute, Lady Blanche'? bow was so mark- edly distinct that Alice Kendall, who sat next to Hufjli, involuntarily turned toward him. Leaning over, she whis- pered . " Did you see Lady Blanche's look 1 You seem to be almost a favourite since her ladyship has taken my place at the choir-practice. She never fails to attend either." " Hush," said Desmond, " his Grace is speaking." His Grace was, at any rate, trying hard to speak ; but, although he was the first noble of the kingdom, it was pain- fully evident that he could lay no claim to the title of its first orator. His lisp might possibly ha^-e been cured by a course of treatment similar to that employed by Demosthenes, but at present it was somewnat difficult to understand wliat he was trying to say. He read a letter from the great metro- politan hierophant, and then proceeded to explain whv the meeting had been called. In alluding to the cruel persecution of the " Holy Father," he declared that the Catholics of England and of Scotland were resolved to protest against the injustice, whereupon a voice, suspiciously like that of Hugli Desmond, was heard to cry, " And of Ireland also." " Of courth, of courth," said the noble Duke, " and of Irela: -. , too, of courth," — which observation was uttered so lightly that one might almost have concluded that, in point of numbers and influence, the Catholics of the lesser island counted for very little, as indeed they do in the opinion of the aristocratic Catholics of England. Finally, his Grace expressed his conviction that the Pope and the Church woul:, obtain a speedy triumph over the " Revolution ;" and he sat down amid as much applause as could be rationally looked for from sc patrician a gathering. Other speakers took the floor, and a programme was ulti- ans anc( fam h firct hroij tea, fo a.\ inipr effecf concj hi the to HI sch( at t call little I ^idedl heve ; Cui n Bl ; ^i UPON THIS ROCK. 133 :s of tho id of ed so point island ion of Grace wovil- he sat cd fov mately adopted tending toward the formation of an organiza< tion which might, or might not, shake the whole Italian penin- sula f the ou of Mr. ire thftb k. Mater ^orio in *' No, sir, I do not," answered the reporter, " but I ought to, I know." " Mr. Curtin," said Hugh, as they left the tea-table, '* I would like to hear your views on the subject of Fetichisin." " Of what, sir 1 " asked the other, in blissful ignorance of the drift of the question, as he was also of the meaning of the word itself. " I beg your pardon," said Desmond, " I see you are ac- quainted with the thing although you do not recognize its name. But, of course, you know what F^^irism is." '* No, sir, I do not think I do, or else I do not remember it," he replied. "It is," interposed the old schoolmaster, who evidently disliked Hugh's tone, "an element in Hindooism by which the heathen and their priests are impelled to make what is terrible in their religion predominate over what is milder." " In short, Mr. Curtin," said Hugh, " it is a form of super- stition whose motive power is grounded upon fear, and whose votaries seek to conciliate their Deity by practising and in- flicting the most hideous tortures on their own bodies." '* Oh, yes, to be sure, Mr. Desmond ; I have heard of it, of course," replied the reporter. "But in God's good time the true religion will penetrate those dark places of the earth, and such aboniinations will come to an end." " Unless, -which is not impossible, — kindred ones develop nearer home," said Hugh, with a keen glance toward Flowers, who was looking fidgetty and somewhat troubled. " Mr. Desmond," said the old man, in a low voice, " you do not appear familiar with what I may term the Italian form of devotion. It has grown up into what I may almost call a fasiiion, but it is not, I venture to think, altogether satisfactory to our English minds." *' Pardon me, my dear old friend," answered Hugh, *' but I have lately, very lately, read Liguori's Glories of Mary, and the book shocked me l)eyond measure. Then there is the cultus of the Sacred Heart ; — as you say, it is all very un-Eng- lish and even worse ; but as I see you do not like the subject, let us change it, if you please. Well, Mr. Curtin, what did you think of the meeting, eh 1 " The reporter was evidently deeply impressed by the conde- scension of the great ones of the land, and by their earnest devotion to the Pope. He expressed gieat admiration of the I ■ !■ ■! I \^c, tJpoN tnis nocK. speech of the Earl of Ruthen, wlio had, in the name of Christ and ^he Church, hurled defiance in the teeth of the secret societies whicii were vainly endeavouring to undermine and subvert the whole of Christendom, and whose tools were the impious statesmen and politicians of Italy and the '^Jerman Chancellor, Prince Bismarck. "His lordship," he said, "is a fine specimen of what a nobleman should be. He is a Catholic to the core." " I think he is," replied Hugh, " a most thorough Catholic. Do you not know that he is reputed to have publicly declared that he was a Catholic first and an Englishman afterward V " A most injudicious remctrk, if it were really uttered," ob- served Mr. Flowers, *' and one which directly puts weapons into the hands of the Church's enemies and confirms their prejudices. I will not believe that the time will ever arrive, or the contingency arise, when our duty to the faith and our patriotism will be opposed the one to the other. But here, I think, comes a request for Mr. Curtin to go down to the library. Good bye! Mr. Curtin; I shall not see you again before you leave, I suppose, so I wish you a pleasant journey back to town." " Good bye, and God bless you ! " said the reporter. " You spoke of being in London soon, Mr. Desmond. I hope you ■will be so good as to look me up either at the Herald office or at my rooms in Gloucester Street. Yes, here it is, — will you take my card ? I assure you that I shall be honoured if you will call upon me." " Th ink you very much, Mr. Curtin," said Desmond, taking the card, " do not speak of it as an honour, I beg of you. Yes, I hope to be in London in about ten days, — my vacation will begin on the 20th, — and you may be sure that I will find you out. I almost wish we were going to town together, but that, you see, is impossible ! " Impossible ! but what sayeth the Oriental monarch to those who incline to forget or lose sight of that vicissitude which the great Sophist of Abdera termed " the perpertual flux ? " " Boast not thyself of to-morrow ; for thou knowest not what « day may bring forth." thii Prill devc that! (< UPON THIS ROCK. 137 'OU. ^tion find but those ^hicb not CirAPTEH XVII. IN WHICH A PllIKST OUTWITS A LADY's MAID. INTENT on sport, no inconsiderable number of the giiests at HolmwooH, under the guidance of Captain Meadows, had left for Meiton almost immediately after the meeting in the Long Room. Those of the visitors who remained at the Hall were chiefly foreigners and ecclesiastics ; and, dinner being over, many of these were assembled in small knots and groups on the bro.ul terrace before the house. It was a beautiful clear summer night, the moon, — now nearly at the full, — shining like a shield in the firmament, and bathing the old house and its grounds in liquid glory. The Earl of Guis- borough was walking side by side with a tall, well-mado ecclesiastic, — a recently-appointed bishop, a man of good blood, celebrated for the beauty of his person, beauty uni\er- sally recognized from Manchester to Rome. The subject of their discourse was the Culturkampf in Germany, the Bishop confidently asserting that, sooner or later, Prince Bismarck would be compelled to come to terms with the Holy Father and the Church. "No weapon," he said, — and his tone and accent were faultless, — " that is formed against the Church can prosper : and if we patiently await God's time, we shall see this new Empire of Germany acknowledge its error." " I hope so, indeed," said the Earl, " and I am inclined to think such i change of policy not improbable, because I think Prince Bismarck is not, in this matter, acting frima fanatical devotion to Protestantism, but solely from a mistaken idea that he is strengthening the foundations of his government." "A mistaken idea, indeed," said the other, " and I am con- vinced it will not be long before Socialism and other forms of Liberalism will compel the Prince and his august master to recognize that in the Catholic Church legitmate authority possesses it? surest, most powerful ally. As so-called ut the great Civil War has so weakened them that their ] power of opposing will scarcely be worth consideration during ;a hundred years. J.Ioreover, the Church will probaljly win a llttrigf r^ortion of the negro population. Of course, all this I ^ddlongs rather to the future; but the Church, — mindful of, and true to her mission, — prepares and seeks to fashion that future. At any rate. Father liackett assures me that, pro- vided we can secure the educ ition of Catholic children, the time will assuredly come when the New World, revealed as by inspiration to Catholic voyagers and adventurers, will be practically suhjet't to the Vicar of Christ. Everything, thank (iod ! is tending that way, — ad niajoreni Dei gloriam, u.^ they say in the Society of Jesus." "The ways of Providence are indeed marvellous," said the Karl. " A century ago who would have ventured to predict that Puritanism would so soon, on the ground of its own ch'^osing, become little more than a mere memory, and that," At this moment, while the Earl was speaking, his chaplain, Father Nevins, approached, and, having respectfully saluted his ecclesiastical superior, requested the favour of an interviesv , :^\l H .1 uo tPON THIS ROCnt. m with the nobleman. Excusinrj himself to the Bishop, tho Earl accompanied his chaplain toward the library. Hugh Desmond had written a poem^ I am aware that in this matter-of-fact age such a ptatement will probably preju- dice the reader greatly to the detriment of this chronicle ; the claims of truth, however, are paramount, and the admission has to be made. Not until the work had been completed did he mention it to Blanche, but a short time previous to the great meeting in the Long Room he had secured favourable terms from a Catholic publisher in London, and he intended to devote his vacation to superintending the production of the book. Probably most young ladies^ under similar cir- cumstances, would have felt no less anxious to peruse the first oflfspring of a lover's genius, but however this may be, the important manuscript lay on a small round table in the dress- ing-room which Desmond had converted into a study, and he himself stood impatiently waiting the promised coming of his lady-love. Lady Guiskuj^ough usually retired early, and Blanche had named nine aclock as the hour when, if possible, she would be present. At an early period in their love-making Lady Blanche had, to a cer im extent, confided her great secret to her maid, Madeleine, and Cupid himself could hardly have wished for a better, more zealous emissary than the sharp young Breton maid. It was some minutes after the appointed hour when Made- leine tapped at the door and, thrusting in her head, whispered softly, " Mil4di comes." When Blanche appeared, the keen eye of her lover at once saw that she seemed somewhat agitated, and in reply to his anxious inquiry, he learned that Madeleine had encountered the chaplain in the corridor. " He was coming apparently from your sitting-room," said Blanche; "he may have wished to see Flowers, but that is hardly possible, because he must know that the schoolmaster invariably retires early. I know he has asked Alice Kendall why she does not take her former place at the practice, and last Hunday evening I met him on my way home from the Tower. I have an uneasy suspicion of espionage ; however, I have stationed Madeleine in our own corridor near the staircase, where I think she can obtain timely notice of anyone approacli- ing from below. And now, dear, let me see the poem. Ah, there it is, I think, i.s it not 1 " "But, ray love," said Hugh, "if thftre is any danger of our tu/-j Wll; I lie J i^> Oll\ \\ ' .111) once, JJIOI Ki he be ^■w^ UfON tins ROCK. 141 " said I that is Imaster Lendall ice, a nd Ah, ler oi oui itcti'iyfil, let me, for your sako, entreat yoii not to stay, but to t.iki* tlui iii.iiiuscript with you. I cannot believe that Mr. Ncvins would condescend to play the part of a spy ; neverthe- less, this ib the tirst time you have ventured to come here, and I ahnost wish I had not consented to the proposal. For inyseif, I care not, but I shall endure untold, unspeakable luisery should you encounter trouble that might have been avoided." " Avoided, Hugh ? " she asked, '* and for how long, think you '{ On the liist of September I shall be of age, and I am (h'tcrniinecl that before Christmas my mother shall know of our l()v♦^ Dear Mamma ! I do not think she will be very much annoyed ; she is singularly free from caste prejudice. i»ut conn', sir, to the poem," — and she drew a chair to the table, Hugh reluctantly following the example. " I am almost ashamed, dear, to say how I dread your criticism. Vour literary instinct, — if such a terra is correct, — is so keen, your judgment so strengthened by the highest modoin standards, that I fear I must sink woefully in your estimation. Before you read, however, let me say that I have no; lu.uie, or thought of attempting, a lofty flight. My imagina- tion, sucii as it is, was stimulated by the thought of visiting Ireland, and since I received the letter from Carrig Desmond 1 have written this, which I have entitled 'The Exile's Re- turn.' ' " Fie," answered Blanche, " no more of these excuses. Stay, what is this, Greek i is your returning exile Aristides the Just or Alcibiades, that you begin in this way?" " Neither, I think I may assure you," said Desmond. "The lM)em consists of alternate strophe and antistrophe, and the stioplies are always preceded by a quotation whicli serves as a sort of key note to the section. The line you notice is from the Iliad; and it reads in English, ^ Let us Jly with the ships io our deur Fatlierland.'" " If you please," said Blanche, "I would rather that you sliouhl read the poem to me. I will not interrupt you unless I am \iivy much in want of an explanation. Now begin at once Tl ic' e was no alternative but obedience, however much Des- mond regretted having put spurs to Pegasus. " Well, ' he ^lid, "this is the first strophe, — Night" — and he began to read in a low, distinct tone : — !:'l:i , ( 142 Vro^ THIS ROCK. li ■■i ' *• ' Swoot, Boluiini Night ! in whose wide breait The we»ried Sons of Labour rest, How oft have I in midnight hour Experienced thy soothing power. How oft have I in life's young spring, Soaruig aK)ft on Fancy's wing, — Like ancient sages in Hhinar Contemplating or m(K)n or star, — L(j8t sight of earth, forgotten cares That have embittered manhood's yearn, While gazijig in thy clear Profound, In silent contemplation drowned.' " " Poor fellow ! " interrupted the auditor, with a tnischievoiis twinkle in her eyes, " I did not know that your manhood had been so terribly embittered. How fortunate that the remedy, — star-gazing, — ^osts so little ! " " If you interrupt me again," replied Hugh, " I shall exact a forfeit, so beware." " A forfeit ? " she asked archly, " of what nature, pray ? " " A kiss," he replied, " and of course you owe me one now,' and he forthwith proceeded to secure the penalty with a detei mination worthy of Shylock. " You will see," he continued, "that, like other more ambi tious singers, I have been a little moonstruck. Now listen *' ' But most I love thee when on high, Regent of the cerulean sky, Chaste Cynthia floats, whose liquid beam Bathes hill and vale in silvery sheen. ., ; Were Acteeon's fate, who rashly dared ,^ j^ f;_ To gaze on her, again declared 'Gainst me, still undeterr'd would I Give one last look, and looking die. O three-form'd goddess, fair Selene While gazing on thee I have seen, — Or thou hast whisper'd unto me Perchance, as thou didst formerly Speak unto him w||o lay upon Mount Latmos— young Endymion— Yes, visions that no other eye Than mine perchance will e'er descry, Have I beheld while silently, Guardian of mountains, watching thee.* ** "There," said Desmond, "now comes the first antistrophe. > UPON THIS ROCK. U3 aistrop^i*'' " ' Our bftrk- like a Norcid Imstoning To lior home in the eineiald caves Of the crystal ocean far away — Bounds over the dark blue waves. Away, away to the west, W here the sun has gone before, As the eagle to her nest We fly to Hybernia's shore : And thither the crested wavo Is rolling with rippling smile, As tliough it longed to lave The shores of Erin's Isle. Bound gallant barque, o'er the silvcy sea, Nor tarry to toy wi*^h the foam, For the eye of tlie Exile is eager to see His forefathers' evejgreen home.' " " So much," ob.s(;rvod Desmond, " is introductory ; the second strophe is " At this instant the door was thrown open, and Madeleine, -her face the picture of terror, -^entered the room, followed liy the Earl of Guisborough and the Rev. Father Nevins. Springing to tlieir feet, the lovers showed by their pale, sev it'jitures that botJi at once realized that a crisis in their lives liad come. Desnioiul at once moved forward some paces, — and :is he did so a flash of pride and conlidence swept over Blanche's f.ice, — and, with a low l>ow, said : " To what, my lord, am T indebted for this honour ? " "Blanche," said the Earl, in a cahn, authoritative tone, " I (1 inand an explanation of this. As to you, Mr. Desmond, I leg let that you have abused my confidence and marred you future career by this unmanly clandestine association witl* a daughter of my house, an association which I have cause to regard as having been secietly conducted for some time past. I insist upon your immediate departure from Holmwood ; I will .send my man Chambers to assist you in your prepara- tion.s, but my decision is final, irrevocable. I will hear no excuses, no apology ; but I absolutely reijuire you to depart in the morning. You will find a conveyance to the station awaiting you at an early hour. Father Nevins, you will, if you please, see to this, and to the nece.ssary settlement with All". Desmond, — of course, not forgetting his claims in respect to the absence of the usual notilicatiou of the terminatiou of iiii engagement." i 144 UPON THIS ROCK. "Lord Guisborougli," replied the, youiif; man, "T accept yoni' dismissal; but I also insist on your attention tor a few minutes," and striding past the chaplain, Jlugh locked the door and put tho key in his pocket. ** How dare you act in this manner, sir ?" said the priest. *' Silence, you cowardly eavesdroj)per and spy I " respDndcul Hugh, Ijestowing at the same time a look upon the chaplain that caused him to retire behind his patron in evident trepida- tion. "And now, my lord," continued Desmond, "Tknow well that gentlemen of your condition disli!:e scenes, and that you, under all circumstances, aflect a cahune-s and serenity, what ever your feelings may bff. Nay, do not stir," — as the Earl looked haughtily toward the door, — '* unless, indeed, youi' lordship desires to court publicity, which T think you do not. Well, Lord Guisborougli, I am no Edgar Ravenswood, and will not condescend to assume the heroic mood, in as few words as possible, my lord, let me state that your lordship's daiighter, the Lady Blanche Meadows, has given mo her love, has pledged herself to share ujy lotas my wife, for weal or for woe; and so help me God!- ii'tiod there be, — I will never relinquish the trust she hasrepf'^ed in me until the hour when she herself shall ask me to free licr from the plighted compact. ' Hero or no hero, the young jnan lookc-J gallant and intrepid as lie addressed the nol)leraan, and despite his indignation. the Earl seemed somewhat move l by this daring Hj^eech. At this instant, however, his thoughts were turned into another channel by the action of his daughter, who, step{)ing forward, took one of Hugh's hands in heis and taid : "Yes, papa, Mr. Desmond has spoken the truth. I am hi^ betrothed wife, for woal or woe. How all this will end t cannot foresee, — of course, he must leave Holm wood, and it is better for him to go. Hugh," — she said, turning toward her lover, and her voice became infinitely tender, while her beautiful eyes were suffused with tears, — "it is better so. Farewell ! until we meet again, and until I demand of you my plighted word I shall be always with you in spirit. This is not the era of imprisoned damsels and dripping tlungeons. Farewell ! My lord, if you please, allow me and my maid to pass." As Desmond opened the door the lovers exchanged a last look, uui I«ady Blauelie and Madeleine departed. Er^ he, UPON THIS ROCK. U5 I) ;UhI ain idii- woU you, ,'liat Karl youi" ) not. • , and .s few r love, or for never [• when jpact. itrepid uatioi^. At uicthci- 3vsvanl, am his end t [ and it toward Jule her 5tter so. you my This is [ungeous. maid to 3d a last Jlre he, too, left the room, the Earl turned toward Desmond, who Ktood with one hand resting on the table. "Mr. Desmond," he said, "there is a great deal of silly romanticism in my daughter's nature, which time only will subdue. I see how it is in this case ; since the affair of the runaway horses, she has woven quite a three-volume romance out of that episode ; and of course you figure therein as the rescuing knight, and she poses to herself as the love-lorn princess. I recognize this quite well and easily, and so I am not 80 much angry as amused. However, it must now come to an end : but I think you will find me not indisposed to further your progress in life. In a short time you will forget all this nonsense, and I hope you will conduct yourself like a wise man, ai\d turn your fine powers to good account. As to Father Nevins, he has only done what he considered his duty, and we shall all come to acknowledge that he acted rightly. He will conclude all the arrangements, and Chambers will do your packing. I really wish you well," and his lordship re- tired, doubtless felicitating himself upon his tact and skilful management. Hugh Desmond peremptorily cut short the chaplain's at- tempted vindication of the line of conduct he had chosen to follow from the moment when a chance encounter in the park induced him to act as a spy upon the lovers. Hugh was well aware that the priest knew that a change of some kind had come over the organist, a change sufficiently important to debar the young man from having recourse to the. sacraments of Penance and the Eucharist, and of course his position in the Earl's house enabled the chaplain readily to observe any falling off or neglect of religious duty on the part of any one of its inmates. That Father Nevins had played the part of watcher most effiectually was now evident enough, but in allowing his detestation of such conduct to move him to treat the priest so contemptuously, it is possible that Desmond did not take into consideration certain religious influences which probably animated the reverend man. To do him justice, Father Nevins appeared to realize that he had acted a more or less unworthy part, although he probably found consolation in the Jesuitical motto that it was all for the " greater glory of God." Finding that his efforts at self -exculpation were contemptuously repulsed, the chaplain proceeded to effe«t the lettlement of the Karl'p pecuniary liability to Desmond ; but} 10 ! I !■ \ 1 146 UPON THIS ROCK. Ml HP) 11 :i ^-^1 the organist firmly refused to accept the six montlis' extra salary tendered as an equivalent for the usual notice of dis- missal. He signed a receipt for the amount due, and with this both the chaplain and his patron had to be content. While this settlement was being eti'ected, Chambers had been quietly at work, so that before midnight our liero's boxes and portmanteau were locked and strapped ; after which Hugh sat down and wrote a few lines of farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Flowers, Mr. Champernowne, and the Kendalls. " Chambers," said Piugh, when his letters were all writttm, "will you be good enough to ask the chaplain to come here ?" " Ye& sir, of ^course," answered the valet, and in a few minutes Father' Nevins appeared. " Mr. Nevins," said Desmond, — and the priest, trivial though the omission was, started and turned red at being thus addressed, — " I have here two or three letters which perhaps you will undertake to convey to the pereons for whom they are intended. Unless you do so, I shall have to remain another day in the village, for I have commissioned Mr. Flowers to receive certain small sums of money due to nie for tuition, the accounts for which I will forward from London. Will you see that these letters are delivered V " I will, of course, do so, Mr. Desmond," answered the chaplain, " and should there be any other — " " Nothing more, I tliunk you," said Desmond, and the two men parted, both, it is to be feared, with rancour at their iiearts. Hugh Desmond slept but little during his last night at Holmwood. He merely divested himself of his coat and vest, and stretched himself on the lounge in the little study. At times he would start from his troubled slumber, fancying that he heard a tap at the door, which he would hastily open, half artticipating a note from Blanche conveyed by the trusty Madeleine. He did not k v, — how should he have known ? — that the Earl of Guisl dgh had, at least for the present, restrained his daugltter's lOmanticism by the simple expedient of insisting that Blanche should occupy her mother's room that night. With her head pillowed on her mother's bosom, Blanche explained all that had occurred, and she had at last, when quite worn out with tears and agitation, fallen into a troubled sleep. As to Lady Ouisborough, I do not know how »he f^lt after tbe story ha4 been told. She knew hor in Lom i"^' of tJPON THIS RrcK. n daughter's character too well, however, not to feel doubtful that the Earl's summary proceedings would be altogether promotive of the effect aimed at by his lordship. The good lady reflected on the matter for an hour or two, until she, too, was weary of thinking and in turn fell asleep. It was about six o'clock in the morning when the sound of wheels on the gravel aroused Lady Blanche. Gently removing her mother's arm from her own neck, she sprang to the win- dow, raised the curtain, and was just in time to see her lover being driven in a dog-cart towards the avenue. As he sat there beside Jarvis, she noticed how fixed and determined was his expression, and dropping the curtain she wept like a child. Could Alice Kendall have seen the proud lady of Holmwood at this moment, she might have learned something with re- spect to the power of Love to cause even the haughtiest eyes to overflow with the same feelings that till those of the humblest milkmaid with tears. And thus it was that William Curtin, the reporter, was accompanied to town by the man who on the preceding even- ing had expressed his regret at the impossibility of their thus travelling together, albeit, so moody and pi*e-occupied was his companion, that William might have been better pleased had he been journeying alone. i 1 CHAPTER XVIIL INTRODUCING ▲ POPULAR FAVOURITE. OUR hero soon found good reason to be glad that he had made the acquaintance of the reporter. Knowing litthi or nothing of the great city, Hugh was compelled to be guided by Curtin, and, following his counsel, he engaged a* fairly comfortable second-floor in Gloucester Street, Olerkenwell, not many yards from the house in which Curtin himself resided. Had his knowledge of the world, — or of that microcosm which imagines itself to be the macrocosm, and which must, sooner or later, fall to pieces of plethora, — been greater, he would, perhaps, have taken lodgings in some other district, experi- ence going to prove that no one who desires to make his way in London should begin by taking up a residence within h4CF ing of the big bell of St. Puul's Cathedral. Among X^ondoners i!^ I 148 OPON THIS ROCK. r^ generally nothing so detracts from a man's reHpeciability as this, the bare mention even of such districts as Clerkenwell, Bloomabury, or Soho being suggestive of costermongers and df that genus of sportsmen whose particular recreation it often is to " shoot the moon." Having written to his cousin at Carrig Desmond and to Lieutenant Wallace, announcing his arrival in London, Des- mond procured a handy pocket-guide to the various places of interest, all of which he conscientiously visited, from the Bank of England to Woolwich Arsenal. Having secured a reader's ticket to the British Museum, he spent much of b* *ime in the great library, while he did not forget to scan the iver- tising columns of the Times every morning with the view of securing employment. Some days elapsed ere he resolved upon the proper course to follow with respect to Blanche. At length the suspense became unbearable, and he determined upon making some efibrt to communicate with her. He scrupled to write directly to his betrothed, — perhaps he feared his letter w^. uld be intercepted, — but, finding among his books a certain lecture on " The Development of Religion " which belonged to Mr. Charapernowne, he returned the pamphlet by post, of course with a note in which he thanked the clergyman and explained that his sudden departure from Holmwood had made a personal return of the lecture impossible. About a week after this Desmond received the following letter : — " Holmwood Hall, " Rutlandshire, " Dear Hugh, " Angust 23, 1872. " You niiglit have addressed me direct ; but I understand your motive and feelings, and I know that you have done what is right. Mrs. Chauipernowne and the vicar are both curious to know the circumstances which induced your sudden de partuie, and to this curiosity I am indebted for the know ledge I now have of your whereabouts. Were any letter addressed to me to give rise to suspicion, certain demands i would probably be made which I should be unable to accedcj to. In a few days more no ore will possess even the shadow i of a claim to exercise any control over my actions. You must be patient ; now that the inevitable eclaircissemot li.wl occurred, I myself am well catistied. I feel more and niowobse conxinced that, instead of being led by Fate, instead of Ijf '"^cheei fn] ^'a'lie to ei so that ''■ehant, wl lUoug ml more rved aj l^PON THIS noCK. 149 as plastic day in th«» * ^^^ nothmgcn change „yp„^*^' and I am patient becaut' Onf word more : if as T », u expression of Catholic ChriaLl f '"'P""*' t^^re be anv publish it. Let it die 7n aft/"'"""'' "^ ^°"'' Poem, do no{ know that it was neve give^ tZ/'^Z ^' "^-" be glad ^ Be patient, dearest I ^® '^*'''^^- ' "lam, your betrothed, a'ready recognized to be I^l'^''"'''«" '" sentiment which »« •Mnce the ev«ni«« ^< u- . .* ^ cl.P« f T " fi^'*<^ surprise thlf i l ^^- ^f^- Curtin i'\ li: ;h »■■', / ^; 1 no tJPON THIS ROCK. ^1 k lirl whose acquaintance William had so fortuitously made, took up his abode in Gloucester Street. During one of their walks in the Green Park Curlin nar- rated his adventure with the man of acres and tui iiips. ''Yes," he said, "we begged his pardon right there in the open road. What else could we do, Mr. Desmond 1 Tell me, what would you do under such ciiHiumstances ? " " Hunger is said to make- animals savage and ferocious," replied Hugh ; " but in your case it seems that the craving , had been in some sort appeased. However, since you wish to know, I. think it most probable that, if the turnips were all eati^n, I should have thrown their tops in the old tyrant's face." "You would, eh?" said the reporter; "yes, I am afraid you would, Mr. Desmond. i>But then, you would have gone to prison, — ^fon-he was a justice of the peace, — and have had hard labour." "My dear fellow,'^ answered Hugh, "in yoUr case I should have welcomed imprisonment." " But then, you see, Mr. Desmond, we had committed a sin , ia taking the turnips, — a mortal sin." "I do not see that, my friend," returned Hugh. "You I rare a good Catholio, but not even your tender conscience can be permitted to transcend that of St. Alphonsus. AocordingI ,. to his Moral Theology a nobleman, if in extreme poverty,! I . may steal, if he be too proud or ashamed to beg. A Protestant! Christian will tell you that, as an act of theft, to steal a pennjj is as sinful as to steal a thousand pounds ; but this is no Catholic morality, which discriminutos between mortal and veniiU sins. In certain extreme eases, St. Alphonsus, foilowj ing St. Thomas of Aquin,> affirms that all goods are cointno property, and I can easily show you passages from his Hon Apostolicus where this doctrine of the higher right of th pauper and the penury-impelled thief to act on an eraergencl as though all things were common is insisted upon." "Is. that so?" inquired Curtin. "Of course it must 1 since you say so : — ^begorra, there is a good priest lost in Mr. Desaiond ! But that old shoneen of a squire was n testant, no doubt, and if I had been able to talk theology iii| the Pope, he would have sent us to jail all the same." " Very likely," said Desmond, " unless you could hi shown a clean pair of heels after knocking the old rn I ■ i ,1 UPON THIS ROCK.^ 15V1 down, as he seems to have richly merited. But, Mr. Curtin, you have never told me why you happened to leave Irckundin ' buci) a pitiable plight. Surely you did not hope to find gold) and silver lying along the roads and hedgerows of Eng- land 1 " "Faith ! if I did T was disappointed. No, I might hari"*'* done well enough at home, and who knows but by this tira»<< I would have been a member of Parliament ? Stranger thingat are happening every day. When I was a lx)y the nobility and gentry were called the natural leaders of the^ people ; now they are nowhere. In Ireland a class of professional politi- cians is being formed, and their chief qualifications are hmn- buggery, the gift of the gab, and determination to stidc at nothing in achieving their ends." " Indeed," said Desmond, in an amused tone ; "all this is -^ new to me, Mr. Curtin, — perhaps because I am not a politi^^i ( iiin, — and pray what are those ends ? Home rule, I suppose^ «' 1 should V^ 0"^ of them, but surely that is a legitimate and very natural '' * ■-piration ? " "Yes, sir, Home Rule, — no less than that ; Home Rule in- lie most complete sense of the term." "Surely you do not mean that they propose absolute sep^ara- ion from England ? " "Nothing else but that, Mr. Desmond, can ever satisfy an ippetite like theirs. In the strife of parties which will ensue" I Ireland, immediately after the restoration of our Parlia- ent, the Separatists will sooner or later come n[^rmo8tv I II you this candidly, because you are more than half an i^hinan ; and I may just as well say that Republicanism is "ong in Ireland, although, perhaps, the clergy do not like it ry much." "The greater fools they, then," replied Desmond; "Don't shocked, my good friend ; but nothiug is clearer to me n that this Republicanism is an admirable tool in the* lids of those who are able to exert a powerful influence over people. I am told that even in America the Catholic irgy silently wield a powerful influence in politics. And so>' think that in time the world will see an Irish Republio ing into life ? " ■Faith, that I do," answered Curtin, "and then you will took nar- in the i\\ me, cious," ! raving wisht« vere 9\\ tyrant's m afraid e gone to had hard itted a »in | ;h. ''M jcience canj According He poverty,! Protestant! coinino emerg«n«l theology I Ime could W [he old r» 1 out that Irishmen can govern themselves «S' well M Any<«>^> pr people," m 152 UPON THIS ROCK. iii " I do not doubt their ability to do that, — or indeed^, for thftt matter, to govern England, if they had the opportunity," said Desmond. " One thing, however, I see still more clearly, — and that is, that ICngland could not tolerate an independent State such as you anticipate. Should folly, or supposed poli- tical necessity, ever permit such a Power to be established a necessity still more cogent and imperative would compel Englishmen to re-conquer the island. An Irish Republic would scarcely be the best of neighbours, Mr. Curtin. But tell me, why did you leave Ireland ? " " Well, Mr. Desmond, it was because of my father. He is a good man, but a very strict one. He wanted me * priested,' V)ut, sure, I hadn't the vocation. Then I became a printer and learned shorthand ; but all the time my father's strictness and denunciations made home worse than purgatory to nie. He watched me as a cat does a mouse ; saw that I performed my 'duty,' made me read the "Lives of the Saints" until T wifiheJ that all the saints were sinners ; and at times punished me, for the least oflence in life, till I was black with bruises. Nellie knows it all, for it's often she saw it. A last I could stand it no longer, so one day I stowed myself away in a cattle steamer, and was never discovered until the ship got to Bris- tol. However, it is all forgotten and forgiven now between us : my father meant well ; sure he thought it was for the good of my soul. Barring the tramp to London, I have done well in this country, although at first I was obliged to work in some of the big establishments, where they were all Eng. lishmen and Protestants." " Mr. Curtin," said Desmond, " may I ask if you never felt| any doubts on the subject of religion? Surrounded, as you| say you have been, by Protestants, and, of course, — as all printers must do, — at times having to read matter opposed toj the Church and its claims, have you never once felt a sugges- tion that, after all, you and your teachers might possibly bej mistaken ?" •'Yes, Mr. Desmond, I have; but, thank God! I hav»| never encouraged them, never allow:>d them to take root. H was once employed on a job of * setting up ' a pamphlet book againt the Infallibility, and during all the time I trie to keep repeating to myself the ' Hail Mary.' I made poor work that week, and many of the men, who saw «iy lip niovinjj, began to think I was insane, I did not mipd tliei| "gaii i nnh i'Van the oi Chris who t hut b< of the into he Desj tioning I wouJ< plainly ture-wo modifiec tion to 1 to find i >r of 0^ that h\ oUnti-, J''<^y shoi "^lieved This Glor ext, les ofl 'is atrc VPOH I'UIS uock. 153 3, for nity," early, indent d poli- shed a compel 5puV)lic u But He is nested,' printer brictness a to me. erformed • until T punished [1 bruises. it I could In a cattle 5t to Bris V between i& for the have done sd to worV I •e all Eng never felt jd, as yojl ^se,— as all opposed tfl I It asui, [possibly 1* 1 I hav«| Ike root. J pamphlet lime I tru Jmade sloj [saw my W pfiiod tl»«" cliaff, however, AnA the Holy Mother preserved nie from being influenced by the book." "You think, then," said Desmond, "that you owe your safety in this p\rticular to her intercession, do you ? " "Of course I do," replied Curtin. "If you had a claim pgainst the Government, you would try to interest a cabinet ) linister in your cause ; and I have read somewhere of a Franciscan monk who had a vision of two ladders, — one red, the other white. At the top of the red ladder he saw Jesus Christ ; at the top of the white one he .saw Our Lady. Those who tried to climb the red ladder always fell to the ground ; but being told to try the other, they did so, and by the help of the outstretched hands of the Mother of Ood, they all got into heaven."* Desmond could not forbear smiling at the simple, unques- tioning credulity of his companion. " Pardon me, Curtin," he said, " I am sure you know that I would not willingly hurt your feelings ; but I must tell you plainly that I thinfc much of our modern Catholicism is crea- ture-worship. My own views are becoming considerably modified ; but I tell you candidly that all this excessive devo- tion to the Mother of Jesus far exceeds anything I expected to find in the Church.^ Whatever my idea of the Deity might be, all such teaching as that of the Italian school of Mariola- ters, — excuse me, I must really use this terra ! — would appear to me simply blasphemous." " I am sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Desmond," answered William ; " sorry, but not surprised, for I have seen for some time that at heart you are not a Catholic. However, if we who belong to the Church are in error, then God himself is the author of that error since he has confirmed it so strongly."! "No, my friend," said Hugh, "there is no such confirmation for the devotion we are discussing. As to God being the [author of error, I will only say that there is more confirmation I of that hypothesis, for St. Paul distinctly says of the followers of Anti-Christ that * God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie, that they all might be damned who Ibelieved not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.' ii< *rJ^^^ extraordinary anecdote the curious reader will find iu Liguori's Oilories of Mary." t Thi8 atrocious sentiment was uttered by a celebrated Catholic theologian pnthe olerenth century, and it has often been quoted with approval by con- "^vta-bittiists, among others by the converl-eatchiug Bishop Milner. I \ :j i II : I ^ l54 OPOIJ TH!8 ROCK. ^fm/, Jf f I Not a «lieer(ul prospect or a very consoling doctrine, I con fesa, but there it is — a distinct promise and prophecy. When yea credit Mary with a closer, more immediate sympathy with man than her Son can have, you remind me of a fine passage in a work by one who in some respects is our greatest living Englishman, Mr. Gladstone. 'Ais if,' — he says, after much more that I cannot repeat, — ' the Maker of woman did not possess in inexhaustible abundance those treasures of tender ness -from and out of whose overflow it is that He has adorned the loveliest of His works.' " "Surely, Mr. Desmond," asked Curtin, "it is not trying to make a Protestant of me you are ? " "By no means, my friend," answered Hngh, "because I have no interest that way. But I do wish you to exercis*' your reason at least to the extent of refusing to accept ik horrible, grotesque, childish fables to be found in that detest- able book of Ldgouri's, the " Glories of Mary." At any rat«, you are not even bound to believe them, so why need yon appeal to them as aids and supports to your faith ? " " I know," said Curtin, " that I am not, but some of the anecdotes are quite pretty, though one need not believe theml to be true, I suppose. I remember one, where it says two! ioon to c young men went to a brothel, but one returned home and wenfl Among h to bed. In the night, says Alphonsus, ' he saw his companiot deformed and hideous, standing before him,' and heard hii say, — * When I was leaving that wicked house, a devil cam and strangled me : my body is in the street, and my soul hell.'" " Yes," answered Desmond, laughingly, "but you do know, perhaps, the commentary which one of your o^ countrymen made on that story. ' Now, your honour,' said, ' who was he, or what was he at all? He wasn't body, for that was in the street ; he wasn't his soul, for was in hell : and is there anything else in a man to mi himself ? So who was he at all ? ' " While the reporter was laughing at^ this, — they were passing the Junior Athenseum, Piccadilly, — they were proaohed by a tall, very much over-dressed exquisite, wAintor recognizing Desmond, extended a hand encased in at«"And coloured glove, and cordially saluted our hero. mtiiii. MHa!" he said, "Mr. Desmond; glad to meet you, I ■"Pleased! tttre. By Jove J sir, the song is first-rate ; it has been s«(B»ri«. ^^^j njusi and "J Mr. ( Mr. ( Th< after sort oj and Ci "H( success some quainta the att means a Seeing piained i artiste, \ and who! and easti every ©v *^r- Josej was by a land Desm nti-oducti ion indu ide-moi riJIiant t M'as pro describe 'tain th m to ad mond, netit, a p and ut per. gav UrON THIS ROCK. 155 I con When hy with passage t living sr mttc^ did not f tender ; adorned trying to because 1 1 3 exercise I Btccept tk hat detest I . ^tiy rat*. I ^need yon) loine of the! ^lieve theil it says tVi'Ol le and v^ent| ^scompani heard hinl can* devil my aoul you do |{ your honour, Le wasn't soul, for tl lan to w were were xey tquisite, Ued in * |eet you, been music by Dolby : — don't know Dolby, eh? well you must^' — and I tell you it will take." "I am glad to know it," said Hugh, "but permit me, — Mr. Curtin, Mr. Macmurdooh ; Mr. Macmurdoch, my friend Mr. Curtin." The gentlemen thus introduced bowed and shook hands, after which the stranger, who was an excitable, free-and-easy sort of fellow, turned on his heel and accompanied Desmond and Curtin, or rather piloted them, toward the Haymarket. "Here," he said, " is the place. Conie in, and let us drink success to • England.' Come on ! " — and pretending to exert some compulsion, Mr. Macmurdoch soon stood with his ac- quaintances before a bar to which, — as the smiles and nod» of the attendant Hebes plainly demonstrated,-'— he was by no means altogether a stranger. Seeing that Curtin looked somewhat mystified, Hugh ex- plained that Mr. Macmurdoch was the celebrated music-hali artiste, whose name and fame were known all over London, and whose mere appearance on the stages of western, central, and eastern places of entertainment was so sought after, that every evening cabs were in readiness at the various stage doors w convey him, true to the minute, from one to another.- Among his myriad admirers no one was more glowing than Mr. Joseph Taintor, publisher of the Catholic Herald, and it was by and through this gentleman that Mr. Macn^urdocii land Desmond came to know each other. At the time of their nti-oduction, Mr. Taintor was suffering from a peculiat affoft- on induced by too earnestly contemplating the contents of a ide-mouthed vessel of glass, and which, — to use Curran'-s rilliant witticism, — had made "a runaway rap at his head*"' t was probably the champagne which prompted the publisher describe Hugh as a poet ; while Desmond himself was quite rtain that nothing less than champagne would have induced m to accede to Mr. Macmurdoch's proposal that he, Desmond, should write, for Mr. Macmurdoch's behoof and netit, a patriotic song. The promise had been given, how- and of course the song had to be written, because inter gave our hero no rest until the thing was done.' "And Mr. Macmurdoch is pleased with the song?" said rtin. " Pleased 1 my dear fellow ; not merely pleased, by any getp^iiit- Take my yrovi\ for it, it will be all over town in i^ \ li:: i:r 156 UPON THIS ROCK. !!'• Ml M fortnight. Dolby himself is enthusiastic. Ah, yes, and let me tell you he is hard to satisfy." " Really," observed Desmond, " I should scarcely imagine that a few hastily written lines like those I sent you can ever hit the public taste, or become popular in the manner you predict. However, I hope you may be successful with them, Mr. Macmurdoch ; of course, much, — nay, all, — depends upon the music." " I am no bad judge of a song, Mr. Desmond, and Dolby is a better one. I have taken the liberty of forwarding to you, under cover to Taintor, — as I did not know where you live, — a slight recognition of the service you have done me." " A recognition 1 " said Hugh, " I do not quite understand your meaning, Mr. Macmurdoch. Surely, you do not mean that you ." " My good friend," said the singer, "you must excuse me, — you really must ; but the fact is that you are delightfully verdant — too awfully green, by Jove ! You are a talented fellow, — scholar, writer, and all that ; but you do not know the world. Now look at me, — almost sprung from the gutter. Yes, gentlemen, almost literally out of the gutter. No edu- cation, — barely able to write a letter, — not much of a voice ; yet I am a popular singer and all the rest of it. Why ? Because I know how to humbug, to trim my sails to the wind, to fall in with the popular taste. Well, I make thirty or forty pounds every night I sing ; and here you come, increase my stock in trade, and then your pride steps in because I am honest enough to pay, in some measure, for the service. Why, my friend, the cheque I have forwarded is not equal to the tenth part of what your song will bring to my pocket within the next month or two." " But," said Hugh, laughing in spite of himself, " Mr. Macmurdoch, I wrote the song as, and intended it for a gift, and " " Pooh, pooh ! my boy ; nonsense. Either you accept the cheque or I return the song, that's flat. What do you take me for, eh ? " " Well, well," .said Hugh, " let it be as you will. At all events, here's to its success, be its real merits what they may!" At the time, our hero assumed that Manmurdoch had sent him perhaps five pounds as a token of gratitude. To say that he was surprised wljen, on returning hoipe, he fpuncl a letter f luiu / UPON THIS BOCK. 157 )e Because ^ to fall • forty aase my I am Why, to the b within If, "Mr. or a gift, ccept the ley may • Taintor awaiting hira with a cheque for fifty pounds, is to say very little. He subsequently discovered that the singer was an eccentric, spendthrift fellow ; but in one respect Macniur- doch possessed some prescience, as Desmond's song became A prime favourite in the music halls, and ere long was whistled and sung by half the urchins in London. " By the way, Mr. Desmond," said the singer, " T am going to test the song to-morrow evening. You must come with me: I insist. There is to be » Friendly Lead at a house I know. Will you go ? And you, sir," — addressing Curtin, — *' I hope you will come too." " A Friendly Lead," said Hugh, " pray what is that 1 " "I think I know," observed the reporter, "and really, pro- vided he does not stay too long, I think Mr. Desmond would be amused." " Very well, then," returned Desmond, " we will go, — Mr. Curtin and I." " Give me your card : where do you live ? I will call for you," said the singer. " Whew ! Clerkenwell : why the deuce do you hang out in that quarter ? Low ; damned low ! but you are a stranger to London." Before leaving the bar, Mr. Macmurdoch provided himself with a cigar. Upon reaching the street, he shook hands so very impressively that his new friends concluded that he had stood before one or two bars in the course of the day, which indeed was the fact. Poor fellow ! he was only a music-hall singer, but, after all, who shall affirm that his mission in life was inferior, in point of salutariness to his fellow men, to that of a precentor in the great cathedral of St. Paul t CHAPTER XIX. AN OFF-NIGHT FOR THE 8TAR IN THE EAST. THE next morning, while he was breakfasting, Desmond heard a firm, but springy, foot, or pair of feet, ascend- ing the staircase, and in another moment, after a preliminary knock at the panels, the door was thrown open and Lieutenant Wallace entered the room. He was a rather short, square- shouldered man, with light hair and beard, and a hale-looking tnce, bronzed by the sua-iudou breeze^ of thf) English Chuanei. yj 158 UPON THIS ROCK. P ml |:l^ I He had sten service in the Black Sea, during the war with Kussia, in China, and on the coast of Africa, but his hopes of promotion had been interfered with and blighted by his idiosyncrasies, especially by one fatal habit of criticizing the wisdom which dictated the orders which he and others were compelled to obey. " Well," he said, grasping our hero's hand with all a sailor's fervour, "so I have found you at last ! Sit down and (inish your breakfast, there's a good boy ; remember, * meat :imi mass never hindered work.' Speaking about the mass, however, reminds me of sometliing. Do you know that down in Devonshire we have had an invasion, — yes, sir, a regular invasion, — of a cohort of pe.stilential fellows, who will, unless we can rout and vanquish them, make the chancers of the mass being re-established very slender indeed / " " Sit down, Mr. Wallacf^" answered Hugh, " and, if you like, take some tea. 1 am glad to find you looking so well. There, that's ri^jht ; now you are anchored, as the old coast- guardmen 8ay,/and 1 can talk with you as with a rational ijeing. An invasion, you say ? Has the Rev. Charles Catt been restored to a state of grace, and is another revival stir- ring the souls of the good people of Torweston and Tormavy 1 or !»as Mr. Calfton resumed " " No, my friend, nothing of the kind, I assure you. The Rev. Charles Catt continues one of the shining lights among the Bi*yanites, and old Jenkins' second daught-er has been married to Jack Clymo, who, you will remember, was with Big HUiott on a certain occasion mentioned in one of my letters. 1 got Jack to help me the other day in one of my fishing excursions, and 1 asked him, — it was a few weeks before his marriage, — if he did not consider the little incident in which Catt tigured so prominently somewhat of an objection to the lady. ' Not a bit of it, sir,' he replied ; * what T saw that night convinced me that she would make a good wife, and what is good enough for a preacher is surely good enough f^' me. She has a fine figure, Mr. Wallace, and a slice frr >i n at loaf is never missed.' " " Not at all bad reasoning," said Hugh with a si , '* but the invasion, what of that "^ ' " All in good time, if you will be patient. The fact is t' it Dr. Kekewich, who h:is superintended matters at every birth gi Torweston and Tormavy for the last forty years, feels him UPON THI« ROCK. IfiS < The among ,s been lith Big lletters. fishing ore his I which to the ,w that t'e, and lugh f'^' ( n jt " but bt ist' 'f M-y birth ?els hiiM wlf 1,'rowitig olcle?', and a few moiitlis ago he enlisted the scr vices of a young assistant, a fellow from rx)i\cion, who had jiiHt won his diplunia. This young sawlionrH is called Hana- ford, and, to give him his due, he seems a very clever, Intel loctual fellow. At any rate, ho is about to marry Kekewich'g youngest daughter, so he will have a good practice besides a goodly portion with his wife. Of course, you know that the old vicar of Torweston, who had Ijeeu ill so many long years, is dead i Ah, yes ; well, the new vicar is called Blakiston, — one of his brothers was a middy with me in the Dauntless, — juwl he is an oflioious kind of fellow, a moderate High Church- man. They tell me that he goes about poking his nose every- wliPie; the old women are positively afraid of him, as he is one of those men who will take no r«buf1'. Already he has stirred the town up on the question of sanitation, and he is at the head of a movement to secure an act of Parliament authorizing the extension and improvement of Torweston liar- bour." " And he, I suppose, is the invader of whom you sjwke ? " said Desmond, while the lieutenant paused to take breath. "No, no," replied Mr. Wallace: "you youngsters are so impulsive that you caniiot wait to hear the end of a story. Well, somehow or another, this Mr. Blakiston fell into a dis- cussion with Dr. Hanaford, and (the doctor says, at a^y rate) got the worst of it. Next Sunday, — and both doctors h ip- pened to be at church that evening, — the parson preache 1 a sermon on Unbelief, which a few days afterward, when they met in the town reading room, young Hanaford objented to. It seems they both got rather warm over the matter, — too warm by half. The upshot of the whole matter was, that Hanaford wont off to Plynlouth and induced a noted Secu- Urist, who was on a lecturing expedition from London, to visit Torweston. For once in their lives the Church of England parson, the Bi-yanites, Wesleyans, Independents and their I-aders were all united, and neither for love nor money could a place, not even a fish-loft, be hired for the lecturer." '* Ho the doctor was disappointed, I suppose," said Hugh. " Well, for the lecturer's sake, one can hardly be sorry ; for some of your fishermen are rough, unruly men." " No, my friend : if any were disappointed it was the fanatics. Yes, Mr. Desmond, and the responsibility is mine, — at le ,t, partly so. I heard bow matters were standing, it vm\ i . i i : 1 IGO UPON THIS ROCK. m was the talk of the district, and for a mouient or so t felt glad to know how determined the people all were to defend Christianity, even although they knew so little of its real nature. But, sir, in a short time I saw that all this was n^ost un-English. Yes, my friend, damned un-English," and the Lieutenant struck the tCible violently, at the imminent hazard of Hugh's tea equipage, "and I made up my mind that the man should have fair play." '* Well done ! " cried Hugh approvingly ; " spoken like a true man and an Englishman ; I heartily approve the resolu- tion." " Indeed ! " said Mr. Wallace, " I scarcely anticipated this ; to say truth, I really came here prepared to read you a lesson in toleration." " My good friend," answered our hero, " I have learned much since we parted, of which more anon. However, proceed with your narrative, if you please, for I find it extremely interesting." " Humph!" ejaculated the other, in evident surprise; 'well, where was 1 7 Oh, I remember. The more I thought of it the more I disliked the cowardice that underlay the whole business ; and finally 1 went over to Torweston, sought out Hanaford, and made him an offer of my large bam on the confines of our parish. He accepted the offer, after pointing out that in all probability I should be held responsible for in- viting the lecturer. I told him that I was not afraid of what my neighbours would say, as they had been abusing me any time throughout the last ten years, and one charge more brought against me would not matter much. Besides, my friend, to tell the truth, T had made up my mind to fortify myself with a little reading, and then I would annihilate that lecturer at tiic close of hii address, and take the wind out of the sails of Blakiston and the Dissenters. However, to make a long story short, the man came to Torweston, and in due time put in an appearance at the old shed. It is quite a large building, as you know. The former owner has had as many as a hundred sheep in there at one time. Jack Clymo had fixed it up nicely, though there were not many seats, to be sure ; yet there was a platform, and we had more than a dozen paraffin lamps." '• Did many persona come to hear this man 1 " inquired Hugh. " The jplace was full, sir," answered Wallace, " and many of «!Wf Ut>OK T11I8 UOCK. 161 the men looked ripe for a diuiurlmiicu. However 1 Imd stationed Big Elliott and Jack at the door^ and Elliott is a match for any two men in Devonshire. Moreover, Dodge, the Torweston policeman, was there also. Kekewich, Hanaford, Calfton, your old friend Captain Topp, and a host of the big Torweston men were present, and two nephews of the old pilot. Before the lecturer entered, I proposed that one of the doctors sliould take the chair, on the old maxim, ubi tres medicij duo athei, because we might regard Calfton as a doctor of Calvinistic divinity. However, the lecturer settled that question by acting as his own chairman, and I tell you that at the outset he declared that he thought he could undertake to answer for the maintenance of order ; and, upon my word, he looked well able to do so. Well, my friend, he spoke for an hour and three quarters, the subject being the Bible. His arraignment of revelation was complete and fundamental. Of course, being a trained speaker, he put his case skilfully ; but I am bound to say not very unjfairly. It was amusing to see how the courage of all our local champions, — my own, also, I confess, — evaporated. We all felt that to debate with such a man would be a forlorn hope, but we tried. At least Cap- tain Topp, Calfton, Dunn, the Bryanite, and I did. The fact is, however, that we had never seriously looked at the matter from a rational standpoint, and the lecturer, though treating us very kindly, convinced us that the time had come when it behoved churchmen and sectarians alike to be modest. That is the invasion I meant I know that many persons have been seriously affected, and a great deal of infidel literature, — some of it trashy enough, — ^has been circulated among us." Desmond saw, or fancied he saw, that Lieutenant Wallace hud been considerably shaken in his beliefs. Such, in truth, was the case, for with his characteristic ardour, Mr. Wallace liad provided himself with large quantities of controversial literature, determined, if possible, to reduce Christianity to a mathematical certainty. Hanaford, however, had succeeded in establishing a sort of club, which he called the " Eclectics," and thus it came to pass that regular meetings were held in Torweston for the study and discussion of subjects of the highest gravity and importance to mankind. Very much to their annoyance, the authorities of the various religious sects soon discovered that many of their brightest young men had repudiated the chapels and given in their adhesion to the club, 11 M i! t. i mi 111 1G2 CPON THIS ROCK. iil Various expedients were tried to counteract and stem tlii", dangerous movement, but revivals, prayer-meetings, and an importation of new ministers all proved unavailing. More over, other lecturers visited the district at stated terms, and mainly through their influence it came to pass that Torweston, though it lay outside the great railway to London, began tit be stirred and quickened by the higher thought of the age. Our hero spent the greater portion of the day with his friend the Lieutenant, who was sojourning with his daughtor at a small family hotel in Adam Street, Adelphi. Of course, in communicating the fact of his having resigned his position at Holmwood, Hugh had to acknowledge that he had really been dismissed, and that almost without notice. " I have told you this. Lieutenant," he said, "in confidence . and you know that there is a reservation in my communica tion. This naturally appears strange to you, since you cannot understand why, if I have done nothing unworthy of a gen- tleman, I should have been so summarily dismissed, or why I should conceal the causes from an old friend like yourself. I will only say, however, that another person lias to be considered by me, a person whose name I must not mention. Time, how ever, I am sure, will explain all." "I am perfectly satisfied, my dear fellow," returned Wallace, "the more ea.sily, perhaps, because your blushes long since convinced me that there is a woman in the aftair. Confouml these women ! they are always marring and muddling : wreck ing aspirations here, making wise men act like fools theic Well, it is human nature, if suppoKP. However, so lonjfas your love-making has not iaken the Torweston methofj of sacrificing to Venus first, and professing adoration afterw;ii(N. you are all right, I dare wiy." '• By the way," said Hugh, " I ha\e not yet a**ked after tin Toynbees. , How are they getting on ? " " Have you not heard 1 " answered Mr. Wallace ; " by the influence of the Hon. and Rev. Richmond Kirke, Toynbee luis obtained the head ma8tei*ship of a well-endowed granmim school on the borders of Epping Forest. Kirke has a rectorv in that neighbourhood, so, you see, it will be much more con venient for him to do his own love-making too." "You assume, then, that Mr. Kirke is in love with ^ii Toynlnse's niece?" inquired Hugh. "Assume, man ! nothing of the kind, let me- tell you. Tiitv] ',1 ! Ul'ON THIS UOCK. 163 fidencp ; munieii I cannot f a gen- r why T rself. 1 msidered me, how " bv tlui |ynbc'« Iw-i graniniiii a rertovy I more foi were made for each other, and Fevre tells me that he never baw a cou} le more attached than they are." Who shall say what feelings courseerved : "Toynbee's school is but a f«w miles out on the Great Eastern ; sqpj oho you and I run down and give them a call to morrow ? " " I thank you ; no, not quite so soon ; remember there is my work on the Herald, and I assure you I have quite a large pile of books at my rooms, awaiting my critical scalping knife. But I have a proposition to make to you instead." Our hero then told the Lieutenant of his new acquaintance, Macmurdoch, and proposed that Mr. Wallace should accom- pany them to the Friendly Lead that evening. Having con- sulted his daughter Clara, — a lively, bright little lady of lifteen, who was being educated in a convent, — the Lieutenant found there was no impediment in the way of his acceptance, (iiid shortly after the two friends proceeded towards Clerken- wcll. "I find that Clara is anxious to return honie," said Mr. Wallace, as they entered the Strand, " and of course that is natural. I do not propose to send her away again, as my ex- jK'ctations in sending her to the oo' ent have not been quite tultilled, and I am sure that her acqu.t-ements are not as solid as they would have been under another systeuj. But as this i> my only holiday in twelve months, I kIuiII not accompany lier. She has travelled alone before now, and a tip to the HUaitl at Paddington will make all right. Now, what do you say to my plan of running over to li-eland, where, it secm.s to iiH», your greatest interest lies at present? Eh, will you go?" Hugh thought for a moment, and then replied : " ( Ml condition that we do not extend our trip beyond a wtck or ten day.s, T am very willing. Not otherwise." Lieutenant Wallace agreed to this, altliough lie thought the 164 UPON THIS ROCK. m\ ^11 1-^ time unreasonably short, but he saw clearly enough that Des- mond had some particularly strong motive which induced this limitation, while he was sufficiently acute to infer that this motive and his reservations on the subject of his dismissal from Uolmwood were in some way connected. By working tolerably hard for about a couple of days our hero could finish his reviews, and thus contrive to be about two weeks in ad- vance of the Herald, while he could arrange with Curtin with respect to having his letters forwarded. ^ Upon Desmond's introducing his friends to each other, the reporter said : " Lieutenant Wallace 1 — surely not the Lambert Wallace, R.N., whose contributions to the Herald used to interest us all so much 1 " " The very same," replied Desmond, while the lieutenant looked gratified, as men always look when their literary pro- ductions are thus favourably alluded to. " Mr. Wallace," he added, " is an old friend of mine, and he will accompany us this evening, — that is, if Mr. Macmurdoch keep his appoint- ment ; he promised to be here at half-past six, and it is nearly that now." " There is a four-wheeler coming down the street now," observed Curtin, who stood near the window. " Yes, it has stopped at the house ; aye; and here comes Mr. Macmurdoch." A mingled odour of jockey -club and cigar smoke followed the great singer into the room. He was attired in a short cut-away coat, not unlike a sailor's monkey-jacket in shape, and the heavy jewelry that had on the previous day adorned his person had all been rigorously excluded from his evening toilet. " My friend Lieutenant Wallace," said Hugh, as he intro- duced the gentlemen, " has heard of your fame, Mr. Mac- murdoch, and as his stay in town will be a biief one I have brought him along this evening, for I am sure, whatever the nature of the entertainment may be, he will at least enjoy your singing." " Charmed to have the gentleman go with us, really," said the singer. " I love sailors, they are such fine patriots. Even a trashy song in praifte of our army and navy makes them ap- plaud the roof ofl' almost, and there are po^t-captains in town who are not too proud to ask me to dinner, which the soldiers are though." m UPON THIS ROCK. 196 said Even m ap- towu »ldiers " Too proud, Mr. Macmurdoch ? " asked Wallace ; " I do not understand. Why, my dear sir, you must be richer by ten times ten than one-half of the post-captains I know." "Perhaps not, sir," said the other with a dubious shake of the head ; " but if I were, no one knows better than I do that mere riches do not make a gentleman. I was in at the Cheshire Cheese only to-day with a fellow they call Thackeray Junior, — he writes blood-and-thunder novels, earns money and wastes it like a fool. Just now he is down on his luck, and damnably seedy, but he has been educated like a gentleiiian. As we were taking our lunch he began to say how much he envied me, but I tell you as we went up Fleet Street together, that poor devil of an author, though dressed in threadbare black, and with trousers bagged at the knees, was perfectly at ease, while I, with my fine clothes, always fancy that I look like a hog in armour." "Nonsense, Mr. Macmurdoch," said Hugh, "I see you have allowed yourself to become morbidly sensitive on this matter. Take a wiser view, I beseech you, and bear in mind that honest worth and upriii^ht intention are sterling metals the whole world over. And now, let me ask if you can throw any light on the programme for to-night 1 " " That I can, Mr. Desmond : look here," — and he drew a somewhat smoky-looking printed card from his pocket. " Read this aloud, if you please ; I fancy it will strike you as a liter- ary curiosity." Desmond took the card and r^ad therefrom the following interesting and elegant announcement : i :■■..■ I. " Bird in Hand ; Mile End Oatb. i. Proprietor, Mr. Tom Vincent. A MEETING 4 Will be held at the above House on Wednesday for >r the benefit of our old and respected friend, '' Bill Jones, better known as Chuck-i-Ovbb, Who has had the misfortune to be laid up with a , Poisoned Hand for several weeks, causing him thus to make his first appeal. We, the undersigned, earnestly hope he will meet with that support he so justly deserves. Chairman^ Jack SAIiGRNT. yicf, Hari^y FA>if> 1 t 166 UPON THIS KOCK. u Assisted by Abe Lyons, Jimmy Little, Bill Sar- gent, Lanipy, Old Black Bill, Irish Mike, Jack Kurd, Old Bob Girdle, Young Bob Girdle, Fat Tommy, Harry Hilton, Teddy the Sweep, Young Special, Old Special, Dick the Kid, Bill Nowell, Tim the Potman, Pearly Tom, Country Ted, Bill Pardum, Mike Lanigan, Tommy Jones, Bob Jones, Boney, Pincher, Tom Jacko, Jim the Faker, and other Oriental Stars and Knights of the Barrow. "Si Ronice fueris, Romano vivito more." When the laughter subsided, our hero ol)8erved : " The final precept is worth observing, and we must all try to-night to do as the Romans do, I suppose." " Precisely," aiiswered the Lieutenant, " for the old saw says. It is ill going to Rome to fight with the Pope." "Well, gentlemen," said Macmurdoch, "if you are ready, let us go : it is a pretty long drive to Mile End." It was indeed a pretty long drive. On their way Macmur- doch inquired of our hero if he knew what Barrow Knight* were, and when Desmond acknowledged his ignorance he was told that a Barrow Knight was a member of the ancient and numerically respectable order of costcrmongers. " To tell you tlie truth," said the singer, " this Bill Jones, the owner of the poisoned hand, is quite a well-known coster himself. I suppose you will not respect me the more for it, but the fact is I like to stand well with these people, as no inconsiderable portion of my earnings comes from the Cambridge and another music-hall in the East End. Look iliese, that is Aldgate Pump ; now we arc fairly in the Orient as Thackeray Junior terms it. By-the-bye, it was he tucked ill that bit of Latin at the foot of the card you read. He leads a funny, double sort of life. I have known him give a live-guinea champagne supper, and a week after he has boiTowed]|a ' bob ' for beer. When you come to think' of it life is a .screaming farce. T knew an old nobleman who used to gloat over a m ably open, but before they entered Mr. Tom Vincent uttered '^ a friendly warning. ^ " Gents, — not you, Mr. Macmurdooh, as I knows you are fly enough, but your friends are not perhaps so fly as you are, — ■rf let tn« advise you not to flash any gold. Tliere are sure to be smne' queer coves in there, and it's always best not to tempt them toa much." ** Bight you are, Tom," replied Macmurdoch ; "gentlemMi, /f WA had better keep together, if possible. Just observe lie customs of tlie place, and look out for your watches." One custom evidently universal among the assembled com- ^ pany was that of smoking low-priced tobacco. A long table r^ stood in the middle of the room, and a goodly company of -t4^ both 8«xes ocQupied ehairs on either side At equal distances from one another, and as fairly posited in the median line of v the superficies of the table as the famous logics' i^nkey whh jj, placed between the hay-stauks, were four white dinner-plates, H. in each of which were sundry half-crowns, shillings, and six- . ■ pences, contributed for the benefit of the old and respected . Mr. Jones, better known to fame as Chuck-i-over. This -IT gentleman occupied a chair directly opposite the "vice," r Harry Pash. His left hand was somewh.'it ostentatiously /t boiundup in a sling, his right was most affectionately cloHped *t around the handle of a pewter pot. As Mr. Macmurdoch and ' his companions approached the seat of honour, its occupant, Mr. Jack Sargent, rapped loudly with his gavel and electrified the company by the announcement : "liadies and gentlemen, you will all learn with pleasure ! that a celebrated public character has favoured us with his .., ppesence this evening. Our friend, Ghuck-i-over, being, as he says, unaccastomed to public speaking, desires me to thank IH w 'fi ^s 16S tJt>OK TfilS tlOGK. Mr. Tom Macinurdoch, the eminent singer and favourite of the muiet, the modem Orpheus, et cetrer, et cetrer, for the kind patronage and amiable condescension with which he — er — er, in short, ladies and gentlemen, Tom Macmurdoch has come down to Bill's benefit, and blow me ! but he's a damned good-hearted fellow, and I drink his health and long life." Seats having been found for the new-comers, and ea«h plate having been honoured by a substantial donation in silver, the chairman promptly knocked down Old Bob Girdle for a song. Bob'i voice sounded like a cross between a fog-horn and a buzsHNkW, but his song contained a chorus which all could sing, and sang it was with gusto. As the room became filled, which it did very soon, Tim the Potman, who belonged to the house, opened the upper halves of the windows. After every song the assiduous Tim darted hither and thither in quest of orders, after which he would vanish for a brief interval, only to return followed by two assistant Gauyraedes, all three being marvellously laden with trays of glasses, tankards of hot water, and pewter pots of beer. Then it was that the chinking of coins would be heard as they fell into the ready plates on the long table, it being evidently a point of etiquette never to pocket any change, and Chuck-i-over's face, — I wish I could term it an honest one, — beamed and glowed like that of the harvest moon. At last, the chairman beckoned to Macmurdoch, and whispered that he thought the proper moment had arrived : " You see," he said in reply to a puzzled stare from Lieutenant Wallace, " you see we are just now at our best, — all in good humour, and so on. A leetle further on, jist a leetle, and the drink will begin to touch some of our heads, — the ladies mostly begins to turn rusty first, — so now's the time. Ladies and gentlemen ! order ! Mr. Tom Macmurdoch, the famous Star, is going to favour us with an entirely new song, written by a friend of his'n now present. You all have heard Mr. Macmurdoch, and consequently you need not be told that when a man of his quality comes to a Lead like this on behalf of a poor broken-down coster, it shows what kind of a heart is thumping inside his wes'cut. Order, order, for a song ! " For quite a couple of minutes there was wild disorder, inas- much as Harry Pash and Jim the Faker inaugurated a tornado of plaudits which even the Chairman could not resist. When the stoim was over, Mr. Macmurdoch rose to his feet. UPOW THIS ROCK. 169 "Ladies and gentlemen/' he said, " my song is a patriotic one, ' England,' and it lias never yet been sung in public. If you like it, all I ask is that you show your appreciation in a practical manner by making one more effort to fill those plates before I go. Ahem ! " ENGLAND. O England, dearest England t Our own loved motherland, The brightest gem the world can show, Long may she peerless stand. Lift high the red-cross banner ; Our fathers bore it well Mid tempest's roar, by every shorv Where oceans surge and swell. Now, Englishmen, be true men. True as your sires of old ; Like them, oppose to England's foes Your hands, your hearts, your gold. Though Faction rear her venom'd head To menace or beguile, Or foreign hosts affront our coasts, We fear nor force nor wile. For Englishmen are true men, Loyal and proud and brave ; The land they own is theirs alone, Where never trod a slave. ' ■ I 10U8 itten Mr. that 9haU iftis inas- lado '^hen O England, mother England, Thy children turn to thee, From Bathurst Cape to Newfouhdland, Beyond the Western Sea. Where Ganges' tide rolls deep and wida, Where Austral streams run gold,—' In every zone thy name is known, Thy radiant record told. Unfurl the dear old banner ; Unfurl and lift it high, That all our race, in every place. May see that banner fly. From Canada to New South Walet, That racQ shall wax iu mi^b(, ^*H 170 UPON THIS ROOK. 1 ^. t 1 . ' ' 1 ■ '11 ; 1 i. : lUl ki u Till land and sea shall girdled b«,-<- The circlet of our right. O EujijIuhU, dearest England, Our own loved motherland, The brightest gem the world can shoir, Long may she peerless Htand. ITad Oesniond been a vain young man his vanity would have been gratified on this occasion. Never before had the " Bird in lland " been 80 shaken and rocked. Tom Vincent, knowing that the great singer was on his feet, had brought up all his cronies and friends from below, and these, crowding into the apartment, applauded and cried " Encore !" Mac- murdoch, throwing a sovereign into the plate before him> seized his hat, hastily shook hands with Jack Sargent and Fash, and, making a sign to his friends to follow, elbowed hia way to the door. Here they encountered Tom Vmcent, and were compelled to accede to his request that they would take a patting glass with him. While this valedictory ceremony was being performed, the landlord inquired which of the gen- tlemen was the author of the song which the Star singer had rendered so magnificently. " This one, my friend Mr. Desmond," said Macmurdocb, just as Tim the Potman and his aides entered the bar. " By- the-bye, Mr. Desmond, you must come down to the Cambridge on Saturday, j ust to see how it goes before a full house." " It is quite impossible for me to do so," answered Hugh, " because my friend the Lieutenant and myself are to leave for Ireland on Friday evening." " For Ireland, indeed ! " said the singer. " May I ask to what part ? " # " To Carrig Desmond, in the county Carlow, where I have a relative whom I have never seen." At this moment one of Tim's {assistants touched our hero by the arm. '* Pardon, your honour ! " he said. " They call me Irish Mike. Just a word wid' you if you please. Arrah ! Mr. Vincent, let us be a moment," — as the landlord seemed about to order him away, — " what I have to say will interest the giiitleman." Desmond sufTered himself to be drawn ft littlQ »side from his friends, whereupon Mike whispered ; the the Cas >nui ttPON TltlS ROCk. 1T1 " Is your honour the cousin of Maurice DeBuiond, the Squire at the ould castle 1" " I believe so, my friend," said Hugh ; but why do you ask 1 You seem to know him." " Bedad ! until a month or so ago I was one of his ser- vants, your honour. I have heard of you, too, I think, as the Squire has made us all know who is to be his heir. Well, your honour, I left home mainly because the priest. Father O'Ruarc, has come to live at the castle ; and he has great in- fluence over the Squire and is thryin' to make him retriiich his expinses. One word from me, your honour, before you go, — beware of that same Father O'Ruarc, for he will try hard to do you an injury." " Thank you, Mike, for your information ; I will be care- ful," and Desmond put a coin into the poor fellow's Imiul, coupling it with a warning to take good heed to his ways in London. " Wisha ! long life to your honour ! " said Mike, pocketing the money, " and success to you wherever you go;" and in response to Tim's angry call, he hurried off to collect his tankards and glasses. '' After all,,' thought Desmond, as he took his seat in the c!ib, " who shall say that I may not have good cause to be ghkd that I attended this extraordinary gathering to-night ? At any rate, Father O'Ruarc, forewarned is forearmed ; and I shall take care not to play too blindly into your reverenoe'si hand." This was a wise resolution, and perhaps the humble potboy had done our hero good service by thus giving him a Friendly Lead. |it CHAPTER XX. WHEREIN THE LIEUTENANT MEETS AN IRISH PATRIOT. CARRIG DESMOND was boldly situated on a hill ov^m- looking the Slaney. Tradition assigned the close of the ninth century as the period of its erection, when Cormack, the great warrior, poet and historian, was king and bishop at Cashel. Here, too, another tradition said the traitor Maol- niua for a time confined the gallant but unfortunate Mahoii. elder brother of Brian the (heat; and, indeed, the scjuare old T|l ir n 172 xipos Titfs nodK. pile with its two gloomy towers brown with age, at least where any part of the walls could be seen through the luxuriant ivy, looked much more like a dungeon than a place wherein onu would voluntarily reside. Of course, it had originally been built as a fortress, and before the Croniwellian cannon had been brought to bear on it, the castle was considered impreg- nable. Nevertheless, it was by no means an uncomfortable residence, even from a modern point of view, although the windows were undeniably small, the doors low, and the main staircaae narrow and winding. In the middle of the court yard there was a deep draw-well with an arched ivy-covered roof or pent-house, and there were Phtple accommodations for an establishment considerably larger than that of the present owner and inmate, Maurice Desniond, Esq., J.P. On all sides the view was most beautiful, — a landscape of richest verdancy framed on the east, south, and west by ranges of mountains. At the foot of the hill, and at intervals along the road by the river, were the cabins of the peasantry, — not such trim and picturesque cottages as those of rural England, although far superior both in convenience and appearance to the rude linie- stone shanties of modern Munster, and almost mansions if put in comparison with the wretched shielings of Connemara. The hill, 6teep and almost precipitous on the east, sloped gently on its south-western side. On the ridge or crest of this slope was a large, fairly-kept garden with broad gravel paths, and lower down was a sort of small paik or stretch of pas- ture;, in which two or three fine hunters and a young colt were grazing. It was a fine morning, and our hero and Lieutenant Wallace, who were in the garden with the Squire, accustomed though they were to the green beauties of England, acknow ledged that the landscape upon which they now looked could scarcely be more charming. " The little brook you see there at the foot of the hill," said the Squire, " ought long since to have made me wealthy, but, faith ! it never did. They say, — that is, a Dublin chemist once said, — that it is a chalybeate spring : but I never felt the least desire to turn the old place into a pleasure or health resort. Cousin Hugh, you have \)een to school recently; what was the name of the nation in Pontus that was so famous for working in steel 1" " The Chalybes, if my memory serve me," answered Hugh, t' but why do you ask that ? " Ot»OK TIITfl HOrit. 173 [ugb, *' Faith, T was thinking that iUt old Milosiani never came from tiia: part of the world, otherwise, maybe, my taste would have urged me to try my hand at converting the steel in that snine Hpring into gold. Are you fond of Scott, Lieutenant Wallace T " ** Very much 80,** returned thai gentleman ; " indeed, to speak the plain truth, I tind that the older I grow my liking for him increases/' " Precisely my case too, sir," wid the Squire. " Indeed, since the death of my poor boy 1 have found relief from care and a remedy against moping in the Waverloy novels. You remember * St. Ronan's Well,' the tontine hotel, and all the nest of it » " " Quite well, I assure you," answered the Lieutenant ; "yoii would not like to have Carrig Desmond so profaned ? " " God forbid ! " ejaculated th« Squire, so fervently that Hugh could not refrain from smi'iing. The Squire, perceiving this, turned toward him and said : " You are amused, cousin, at the warmth I have manifeste«l, but let me tell you that my nephew there. Father I^awrence, has already been approached by some Yankee-Irishman, — a bad mixture that same ! — who lias Jin eye on the old place lor a watering-place. Faith ! Father Lawr^mce tells me that he soon sent him to the right- about, and I am glad of it. How would you like the old castle turned into a fashionable hotel, cousin, eh ? " " I do not think I should like it at all," returned Hugh, " but, in my opinion, there is not the slightest fear of such a transformation ever taking place. Indeed, I am surprised that such an idea should ever have entered an American head. Carrig Desmond is too far from Dublin for such a project ever |fo prove a success ; and I must tell you frankly that, so far as I can judge, those of your countrymen who cultivate the goddess of Fashion seem to value the natural beauties of their own country too slightly to authorize any speculator coming here for any such purpose as that you mention." " My countrymen, cousin Hugh ? Remember that the blood that is in your veins is Irish, and learn to call yourself an Irishman too." " Under your favour, no ! " replied Hugh. " Two genera- tions of my family owe their origin to England, and every day of my life tenches me more highly to value the proud privilege of being able to call myself an Englishman. Not for worlds .1 n I" i -.1 8 sMI ll^l 1 1 IN lii ? f 174 tJPON TflW ROCK. would I renounce tliat privilege. My mother was ah English- woman : she lies in an English grave." As the young man spoke these words his dark eyes flashed and his form seemed to dilate. The lieutenant looked on with surprise ; doubtless he thought that Hugh's chances of suc- ceeding to the rich pastures and arable lands of Carrig Des- mond were being mluced to a minimum. The Squire, too, seemed struck with astonishment. Hitherto Hugh's demeanour had been calm and undemonstrative, but as he stood tuere, with his eyes fixed almost with an angry gleam on Maurice's countenance, his vehement protest afforded the Squire some indication of his cousin's character. " Heigho ! " he said ; *' for an Englishman you are the most patriotic I ever encountered, I do verily believe. Few of your countrymen are so glowing and fervent in their devotion to their country." *' 1 think you are mistaken there, cousin Maurice," said Hugh. "I am not much of a politician, to be sure, and I would rather, much rather occupy the lowliest station in society than climb to plp^e and power by sacrificing my indi- viduality, and by cdbenting to re-echo the catch-words of J'arty. I am s*it-e that Englishmen do not love their country !,i the less because they are not always protesting how mucli they love it, oi* posing before the world as would-be heroes and martyrs for their country's sake." "Hugh, my boy," said the Squire, "give me your hand! By St. Kevin, you are right, and I admire your frankness ! Lieutenant," — and the Squire looked cautiously about him as he spoke, — " I am ashamed to say that I would not dare to (juestion the motives of our Irish agitators, no, sir, not even here in my own garden. Bedad ! Father Lawrence is a warm Nationalist, and, between ourselves, a word from him would soon put a dividing wedge between me and my tenants. See, there is my nephew down there in what we call the Broad Walk, reading his office. He has been transferred from his former diocese, and is now a curate in the village beyond. Heaven knows why he came here, as the O'Ruarot are all Wicklow people, — you know my poor wife was his Reverence's aunt. Heroes and martyrs ! Ha ! ha ! By St. Kevin, 80«e folks find martyrdom in the nineteenth century a stepping- stone to iniluence and fortune ! See, his Reverence is loekiig this way,— bedad, he has finished his office, and here he comes. ' e UPOK THIS ROCK. 175 " said ami 1 Lou w y indi- )rd8 of jountrv t mucli oes and hand 1 ftkness ! , hiro as dare to ot even a wavm would See, Broatl [roBtt 1^^* beyond. are all /erence's An, »o»e Bteppini la \o«Vci«g le oonies. Tn person, the Rev. Father Ijawrence O'Rufli'c was ahout fivft feet six inches in height. Like the majority of his oloth, he was a tride pursy and rotund, thou«awrence O'Ruarc, as to become a stepping-stone for the realization of the priest's mbition. "Uncle Maurice,' said his Reverence, as he joined the «rty, "if you have made no other arrangements for the day, ?ha 1 bo gUdto show Cousin Hugh,— you must allow oje to }fm 111 I i i 176 UPON THIS ROCK. call youooilsin, — and Lieutenant Wallace the chapel at Innis- carra and the presbytery. You will find Father Tom, the ad- ministrator, a fine fellow, what Cockney novelists would call a typical Irish priest." Our hero bowed his acknowledgments, and said : " 1 am much obliged to you, Father O'Kuarc ; I am wholly at my cousin's disposal and yours, although I think the Squire said something at breakfast about going through his covers with the keeper." " We are rather late for shooting to-day, I fear," said the Squire, " so I propose that we all accept Lawrence's invitation. You will find our country roads too much for such thin shoes, however, so if you have any stouter ones among your luggage you will do well to put them on." Accompanied by Sheela, the Squire's favourite hound, the party soon started for Inniscarra, the hamlet or village where the chapel was situated. Despite the mud, of which there was an abundance, the walk was a pleasant one, the road winding between the farms or holdingrs of the Squire'-^ tenantry. The farm-houses, however, were but a superior kind of cabins, and Hugh could not avoid comparing them with the tidy, neat, picturesque cottuges oil the Devonshire labourers. The pigs, also, instead ot Wing confined to the sty or the meadow, wer j rather tno ubiquitous, as though they presumed a good deal upon the consciousness of their importance as factors in promoting the paying of rent. A steady walk of half an hour brought them to the village. Here, indeed, both Hugh and the Lieutenant were agreeably surprised at the evidences of thrift and solid comfort that greet«d them on all aides. Besides the shops, — all well stocked and well ordered, — there were two schools, — one belonging to the " Christian Brothers," t\u*. other National ; and everything went to show that the little community was prosperous and contented. The Roman Catholic chapel and the Protestant church almost faced each other, che latter being by far the more eccleaiastical in appearance. "The Earl of Sherbourne owns nearly all the country around here," said the Squire, '* and I am bound to say he is a most excellent landlord, better, I fear, than a native Irishman would be. His lordship's agent is pretty strict with regard to fences and hedges and farm buildings generally, but th<> tenantry have weathered the depression of the last few yeai-s i 'm iouiitry heist iBhinan gard t« at thf ff yeai-9 UPON THIS BOCK. 17; as well as any in Ireland, and T do not think they will demand ii reduction unless the agitators should turn their attention this way. To be sure, one never knows what may happen, find there is a grocer in the town, — a fellow named Shine, who made money in America, — who seems bent on mischief." " Indeed?" said Mr. Wallace, '« but why should he do so? Surely his interest as a tradesman lies rather on the side of peace and order ? " "Bir," replied the Squire, "we are being justly punished for our own wickedness. Besides selling their country's Parliament to Pitt and Castlereigh, the nobility and gentry of Ireland have basely, criminally, neglected their duty to the country and the people. Since the forty -shilling freeholders were di.sfranchised, the privileged classes have had nothing to |^^ai'l from the people but the rent upon which they live. In * meantime, England has widened the foundations of popular liberty, and the Irish peasantry have shared the gain. Like fatuous imbeciles, our gentry have allied themselves to a doome(! '-uise, making their mere temporary, pecuniary wel- fare their sole aim and object. Therefore, Lieutenant, they are doomed. But as the people must have leaders, and as the necessity always provides the men, we find a class of profes- sio'; il i , Hticians is being formed, and, — unless I am mistaken, — -i» *'rtt Shine is one of them." *' True for you. Uncle Maurice," said Father Lawrence, who had listened attentively to this exposition, "but all this is the most natural thing in life. Our gentry, — Catholic no less than Protestant,-— -have proved themselves omadhannSy upon whom the lessons of history are wasted and thrown away. The professional politicians know the necessities of the country, and if they themselves proHt by their agitation who siiall grudge them the profit? Sure we know that the labourer is deserving of his reward. Our nobility and gentry have chosen to play the part of Sisyphus ; they are trying to roll the old rock of feudalism up hill, and they must take the consequences. Iti due time, when the Church is convinced that the aspirations of the people are legitimate, she will throw her infiuence into the scale, and you will then see the professional politicians will be restrained and that the restoration of Ireland's liberty will not meal), the inauguration of an era of licence." " Pardon n»e," observed Hugh, " but it seems to me, Father O'lluarc, that history teache? us that too sudden 12 ITS UPON THIS ROCK. M\ i i! 114 innovation, like jealousy, is sometimes accustomed to make the meat it feeds on. In all such crises it is diffi-^ cult to say to the flowing tide, Thus far shalt thou come, but no farther. Was it not Ireton who exclaimed, while dying at Limerick, that he loved renouncing 1 Who can say what would happen if the Protestants of the North should ever range themselves on the side of Irish Nationalism? Depend upon it, that in that case, should any of the profes sional politicians turn restive and form a coalition RadicHl party, the Church would find it somewhat difficult to restrain thein, as the cry of No priestly dictation ! would be a power- ful lever in the hands of demagogy." " Bravo, cousin ! " said the Squire ; " faith, for a young man wlio dislikes politics, you seem to me to be able to look ahead beyond many who profess to know all aljout it. Ifowever, here we are at the cha()el, and see, by good luck there is Father Tom." Father Tom Cahill was the parish priest, or administrator, and he was really, as described by the curate, a fine fellow. A man of imposing presence, his face shone with jollity and good humour, and he was the best loved man within a circle of fifty miles. The Squire having introduced his visitors, and expressed a desire that they should see the chapel, Father Tom led tlie way thither. Our htjro, who was the last to enter, noticed that the Lieutenant dipped his hand into the pi-scinu and crossed himself with the blessed water ; Father Tom, who was courteously holding the swinging door open, was the only member of the party to observe Hugh's neglect of this cere- mony. A look of surprise passed over his features, but of course he made no other manifestation. There was little to interest the two strangers in the little chapel, and therefore the party were soon on their way to the presbytery. "Since you will not dine with me," said the priest, " I sup- pose I must Ije content with having ye to lunch, sa come alon^. " " If you have no important business. Father Tom," saM the Squire, "calling you elsewhere, I insist on your coming np to Carrig Desmond for dinner, llemember, we dine at live ; S may we look for you f " f " Certaialy, 1 shall be most happy. Maurice, my boy," — and Father Tom took the Squire by the button, while the two fell into the rear, -" T thought you said that your cousin luid b(?come a Catholii;." til tPOV TttlS ROCK. 179 kake >me, irhile can lould lisml •ofes idicul strain lower- g man ahead wever, lere is itrator, fellow, ty and a circle jrs, and ler Ton» enter, pis^cina >ni, who Vie only is cere- but of ittle to iherefore " I sup- |e along." sai'l the |ng np to at iive ; boy,"- the two kusiiu hiiJ " Why, so 1 did, Father Tom ; sure, do you not know that he is an organist at that place of the Earl of Guisborough, who is as Catholic as the Pope. Why do you ask me that ? " '' Oh, nothing, Maurice," said the priest ; " but faith, he's a iine-looking fellow. He comes from the ould stock, and reminds me very much of, — arrah ! what am I talking of?" •' T know, Father Tom," said the Squire, " of my poor boy Owen you would say. I was struck with tha resemblance at first, only he is not so eager and lively as Owen, which is bue peace and eontintmint in all the country, Squire," said the fellow, interrupting the speiker wi-ihoui scruple. " Yes, that is so, — bad 'c(»ss to the spalpeens who care only when their own skillet is full ! Well, we shall s( t^ about your L'ood landlord wlien his pocket is threatened. Tiun do say that all tlh-S'' Itloody ;iristyrrM.ts jire tatrcd wid tlie same brush : t»ut, suro, we shall se(\ luiix, an eviction or two would frlo nr.Kid in ihis part of the country ; maybe we shall have some next winter. Well, good day to ye, Father Law- • ¥> I : ttt»ON THIS ROCK. 181 iver so id tl\e .nswer by tlu! ! I^ord They kvid the [\ or tAV(- ker LiVNV- rence ! so long, gintlenien ! Hurroo, ye baste, full-and-by, off' y« go ! hurroo ! " '• There," snid the Squire, as Shine drove off, " there you have the only specimen of the genus Agitator to be found in the district. How do you like him ? " •♦ Not much, I confess," replied Hugh, " if, as I suspect, this ill-looking fellow has plotted the mischief of which he seems to boast." "Ill-looking? mischief t" said the priest ; " cousin, it will do no harm to caution you not to talk too freely about popular and favourite leaders. Onr people are not over-patient or ciiscriniiniiting in such things, and, sure, sometimes walls have ears." '• Here, however, we have no walls," returned Hugh, ** and surely not even in Ireland can the groundwork of society be so undermined that gentlemen need to suppress their thoughts lest some eavesdropper or talebearer should be within hearing ? " The mottled face flushed, and an angry reply seemed on the point of leaping from the lips of the priest. He contrived, liowever, to restrain himself, but the black eyes glared omin- ously as they returned Hugh's somewhat contemptuous glance. As for the Squire, he looked troubled at the turn taken by the conversation. "The fact is," he said, "that Pat Shine's face does not look well without whiskers, and with that rusty old stubble on his lip. Pat thinks he looks like a Yankee, and he uses ' I guess,' ' You bet,' and other phrases which he supposes will give him what I may call an American flavour." " He seems to me to talk like a sailor," said the Lieutenant, " do you know if he has been to sea ? " •' Divil a doubt of it, Mr. Wallace," answered Maurice with a laugh, " it is hard to say what he has not been ; but I once hrard him own to having been born in Waterford. The saints forbid that he should ever l>ecome Prime Minister, that is all 1 say of him." When dressing for dinner, Mr. Wallace came into Hugh's room and sat down. " Excuse me, my friend," he said, "but just as I was strug- lin<( with this confounded collar 1 recollected the fellow. Yes, I could swear to him anywhere." ;t ' T 7 'I i I ' I 1^5 UPON THtS ROClt. I f^i I ! I r I "Swear to whom ?" inquired Desmond, utterly unable tO understand the Lieutenant's observation. " Wliy, to that fellow Shine — Pat Shine, the rascal we saw in the dog-cart near Inniscarra." "Surely," said Hugh, "you never saw him before, did youl T thought you were never in America." " I liuve been to the Windward and the Leeward Islands and to Jamaica, but never on the American continent. I did not see liim there, however, but in Constantinople. It is not a long story ; I can tell it before you are ready to put on your coat. In 1854 we were lying in the Golden Horn, — I be- lon,?ed to the Tiger then, — having been badly mauled by a s(iuall in the Gulf of Bourgas. One morning I had gone in the cuttei- to a transport on some affair of our first lieutenant. I ordered my coxswain to drop astern of the ship, for there were two or three launches alongside the transport, and a lot of big Turkish labourers or porters were transferring heavy bales and boxes from the ship to the boats. I had heard such niai-vellous stories of the porters of Constantinople and the heavy burdens they could carry, that I was very much inter- ested in watching them. They were certainly very strong fellows. Some of the men of the transport, English-like, were making themselves merry by passing scurrilous remarks and jests about at the expense of the Ottomans, but as the porters could not understand what was said, there was no harm done and Jack enjoyed his laugh. At last, as one of the porters was approaching the gangway with a particularly heavy box on his shoulder, one of the sailors pulled the man's fez down in front, coveriiig his eyes, and the Turk was under the ne, cessity of putting down the burden and adjusting his head piece. Then he shouldered the box again and went down tlie gangway to the launch. On his return I saw him look at the sailor from the corner of his eyes in a very peculiar manner. He was going on toward the main hatchway, however, quietly and calmly, when the same sailor snatched at the tassel of the fez, and, accidentally no doubt, struck the porter on the ear. Of course, all the bystanders l)egan to guffaw. Very much to their surprise, however, the porter suddenly threw his arms tree from the tunic or vest he was wearing, and in a moment lie stood before Jack in what was unmistakably an attitude of defiance. I assure you, I was never more surprised in my life. leavy isuch id the inter- strong J, were caand )orter8 Q done jrtera box _ down [the ne. _ head >wn the at the janner. quietly bI of the [the ear. luch to jis arms [mouient litude of in »ny UPON THIS ROCK. 183 '• * Blow me, mates ! ' said the sailor, * if this dirty beggar an't wanting to fight. Get along, you lubl>er ! ' " The lubber's only reply was a stinging slap with the palm of his hand on Jack's face which made the sailor swear volubly, and in a second be, too, was stripped for action. At this juncture the master-at-arms came up, but when he saw the ship's officers and myself laughing, where we stood on the (|uarter-deck, he held aloof for a few minutes. To say the truth, we were all amazed at seeing a Turk quite as eager for pugilism as any orthodox Christian could 1)e. WeH, to make luy story a short one, — I see you are waiting, — they fought nbout five hotly contested rounds, when the sailor acknow- ledged himself defeated. ' Yes, matet^' he said, spitting the bl(x>d from his mouth, ' I've had enough. It seems queer to lie whopped by a blasted Turk ; but if any of you want a go ut h^, you are welcome.' And now for the cream of the Klory. Just as Jack said this, the porter had got inside his tunic again. Looking around on the group of astonished sailors he said, ' Arrah, if any of yez want a turn wid me I'll not deny ye.' The foolish fellow had blundered at the last moment, as he soon found out when the master-at-arms put his hand on his shoulder and said, ' I arrest you as a deserter fiom Her Majesty's service ! ' Desmond, as sure as I am alive, that porter was Pat 8hine." " Indeed," replied Hugh, "are you really quite convinced of that ? It seems so very extraordinary a thing that you should find the he»o of your story twenty years after in such a place as this and in such a character." " I grant that it does,'" returned the Lieutenant, " but I am not mistaken. The fellow was a de erter from the flagship. Tliey subsequently discovered dozens of such renegades in the employ of the Greek contractors in Stamboul. The week after his arrest I saw Shine at the gratings ; oh, yes, I can swear to his identity. I have been thinking that, should Destiny ever waft you back here, and should this sanie beetle- browed priest whom you treat so cavalierly strike hands with the ' Agitator ' to do you or your cousin any injury, you may lie able to turn what I have told you to good account. Ha ! (Iiere's the dinner l>ell ; old Dan tolls it like a village sexton. I like that Father Tom, but the Squire is a fine old trump - fku Irish ij^ntlen^an o{ the old school, Coipe on ! " hi m 'W* iil m m w In ^•111 M\ ( '• m i 18i UPON THIS ROCK. CHAPTER XXI. IN WHICH FATHER TOM MAKES PUNCH AND HEARS i CONFESSION. DINNER was over, and the gentlemen were enjoying themselves " across the walnuts and the wine." Father Tom, having already demonstrated that he was an excellent trencherman, looked extremely gratified when old Dan, the butler, placed a couple of well-filled decanters on the table, Hanking each with tankards of hot water and a sugar-bowl. Dan had performed this duty for more than forty years, and he was practically the major-domo at the castle, the house- keeper, a little lame old lady, being seldom visible after her morning report to and consultation with her mastci^ the Squire. " Arrah, Dan, ma bonchall " said the administrator, placing his right hand lovingly on one of the decanters, as though he were about to favour it with a benediction, " remember that ye have a sprig of the ould stock at Carrig Desmond to-day, and do tlie right thing in honour of the occasion. None of your Dublin stuff to-day, Dan." " Faix, Father Tom," returned the butler, " I have not for- gotten it ; more by token that your Reverence is too good a judge for me to give ye a drop under three year old. Sure, Father Tom, it is Murphy's best and ouldest, and his honour there will tell ye that it has been in the cellar a dozen years." " It looks the right thing, Dan," said the priest ; " yes, it has the true golden tint of the aqua ccelestis. Mr. Wallace, as a sailor, you ought to know the virtues of hot punch, but perhaps you are not quite so familiar with the orthodox method of comocting iiuctar, as prepared by Hebe for the immortal gods. As for the young fellow there, I hardly know if we ought to introduce this divine potation to a person of tender years. Maurice, man, since you ai-e the host, upon your head be the responsibility, but, faith, your cousin does not look at all apprehensive." , The Squire and Hugh smiled, tlie latter dechvring his per- fect willingness to encounter the peril, while the Lieutenant said : " Nectar, eh, Father Cahill ? Well, I have heard of timt :i" UPON THIS ROCK. 185 Kti do«3 his pe<'- la tenant celestial potation often enough, and I shall be glad to taste it, I think.'^ " Yea," said Hugh, *• but, Father Tom, where is your Hebe 1 la not her presence essential ? " " Not at all, my boy, not at all. 8ure, if you remember your Homer, you will recollect that Vulcan once ptissed round the double-cup to his white-armed mother and the other deities." " Yes," replied our hero, " but what of the asbestos gelos, the unquenchable laughter with which they rewarded his ministrations ? " " I long ago satisfied myself that there we have a false reading," said Father Tom. " Where all the world reads gelos, laughter, I read dipsoSj thirst, with a neuter adjective, which greatly improves the sense, I think." " Father Tom," said the Squire, " we have not all of us been to Maynooth. I thirk Lieutenant Wallace, like myself, does not quite see the point of your joke, so perhaps you will ha after explaining it to u. ." " Why, you see, Maurice, Vulcan, or Hephaistos, was lame from his birth, and was as awkward as a cow with a musket, which no doubt made him seem a clumsy fellow in Olympus. But my emendation would make the passage read something like this : ' And then unquenchable thirst was raised among the gods when they saw Hephaistos passing round the whiskey.' But I beg your pardon. Lieutenant dear, sure I ought to have known better than to keep you waiting so long. Well, look now ; into this big glass or tumbler I pour a certain quantity, •—just as much as I like, — of the hot water, to which J add the sugar according to taste. Into this wine glass I pour the wiiiskey ; and look you, it is essential that the golden liquor, the uisge heatha, — water of life, aqua vitcr, it means the same in all languages, — should be level with the top of the wine- glass. If it be only half a millimetre below the lip of the glass, the mixer is thereby marked out as a recreant and apostate to the cause of Good Drinking. And now comes the bridal, the nuptiiUs, the true test of the adept in this glorious alchemy. Firmly, but dexterously, I tip the wineglass over the tumbler, the two elements rapturously commingle, assisted thereto by a twirl or two of the little glass stirring rod, — and lo ! there you have punch made secundum artem^ a potation fit for a king." Ill 11 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // Zo V V fA ,v^ C?^ i?., t/i 1.0 I.I 1.25 1.4 IIIM IM IIIIIM |||||Z2 ^ IIM 1.6 '^1 cf (TA ■^ <^ W .'•>' <9 m c< /a o-rm /A Photographic Sciences Corporation ^ ^ iV \\ ^^ ^ V ^\ a^ % V^ > 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 "ated." UPON lu.» «OCK. 189 li- Thus directly and pathetically appealed to, our hero recog- ni2ed that the moment had arrived when honour called him to reciprocate the confidence reposed in him. " Cousin," he said, " if you will take a chair near me, I will endeavour to clear up, as far as possible, my present position, — I mean, to give an explanation which your goodness and generosity of intention demand of me. With your permission, Father Cahill, as your lifelong friend and, I suppose, coun- sellor and confidant, is welcome to hear my statement. I am, confident that I shall have no reason to re^jret what I am aliout to do ; but, at all events, however your feelings toward me may be affected by what I have to say, I feel that it is my luty to give this explanation." " Why, my dear boy," said the worthy old gentleman, *' you p ite oi ider a as a their It by a The L8 boys ife had I by the farm. Ibe was ler had grown very dear to tht»t boy's heart. During his vacations tliey frequently met, and one evening they exchanged vows of love. Wisha ! 'tis a heart-breaking world, I think ! Finally, when the boy had become a roan, and his college course was completed, it was announced that he was to be sent to the Irish college in Paris, there to study theology and prepare for taking orders. On his knees he entreated his father to allow him to choose some other profession. He told liim that he had not the vocation, — he told him all. The father, however, would not change his purpose, and at last he said, ' Tom, unless you follow the life I have chosen for you, your head shall be crowned with a father's curse ! ' Oh ! it was awt'ul." It was easy for his hearers to divine that the administrator's narrative related to himself, that the experience was his own. " Tom," said the Squire, " a portion of your story I knew long ago ; but the girl, — surely you were not attached to Mary O'Farrel ? " ** Hush ! Maurice ; let her name go unspoken by us for e pr ; but it was Mary, my first, ray only love. Religion, or s metliing that passed in its name, stepped between us, b igh>.ed my hopes, for years blasted the face of Nature to me, aid broke her heart. Boy, boy ! " — and Father Tom in his Imitation seized Hugh's hand and grasped it spasmodically, — " I was present at her death-bed, in the execution of my priestly duty, and hear me and believe me when I say that not all the sacramental mummery that was ever invented since gifts were first given to win the gods gave to the dying one a tithe of the happiness given by the whispered assurance from my lips that I had never ceased to love, — aye, and to worship her. How diflferent it all might have been ! ah, but where 's tlie use of talking? I have told you my story, — first, because I could not help it ; secondly, because I honour and respect you for your manly courage ; and lastly, because not all the Churches, Councils, and Popes that ever existed can prevent me from thinking and inquirini; for myself. And there are many of us, — I knew a fellow, a Dean of Maynooth, — but never mind that. As to your cousin, the Squire there : ha, Maurice ! sure it's an easy spiritual guide I have been to ye, eh?" As with his island's sky, Father Cahill's clouds did not long continue to obscure his prevailing lightness of heart and good iiumour. The Squire, however, did not smile in reply, but 13 '■l\ :l1t. f n — I i liii 194 tPOV THIS ROCK. carefully selecting a key from his pocket he unlocked a drawer and drew forth two or three volumes. " This," he said, " is the ' Vie de Jesus,' this the famous ' Essays and Reviews,' and this the first volume of Colenso's book. I have read them all, at first with trepidation, I con- fess. Therefore, Cousin, Hugh, if anything your confession, as you call it, has been a pleasant surprise to me, while it has revealed certain depths in my old friend Tom's character and nature that I never even suspected the existence of. Well, we understand each other, although at my age I cannot ven- ture to defy public opinion." *' Why, Hugh, ray friend," said the priest, " my profession is ray profession, and there's an end of it. I have heard that no workman likes his trade, but few of them are able to manifest their likes and dislikes. As to public opinion, Maurice, you and I do not defy public opinion, because we are afraid of it. In our case, the fear which originally gave birth to the superstition is as dead as Strongbow, but the foolish dread of the world which we allow to restrain and re- press our true selves is after all a pitiable thing. But unlock the door, and, if you like to keep your reading a secret from that plotting nephew of yours, lock your drawer again, for I hear Tim driving up the road. Faith, Tim can always b« heard before he's visible. And now, friends, vir sapit qui pauca loquitur. According to Seneca, man is a rational animal, therefore I take it that we none of us feel the neces- sity of talking these matters over with Father Lawrence O'Ruarc." While reP' ^ting that night upon this conversation, Hugh Desmond endeavoured to decide whether the conduct of liis friends in thus suppressing their convictions was altogether defensible. It was a difficult question to settle, inasmuch as the circumstances were peculiar. Subsequent experience, however, taught our hero that in modern Christendom men and women everywhere profess to acquiesce in a theory of existence which it is utterly impossible for them to use as the standard and rule of their lives. E". «« co himself, every man is an enigma, a mystery of the supreme cosmic power ; while, to his fellow men, many a one whose probity is witnessed by the breadth of his phylacteries is little other than a living lie. UPON THIS ROCK. 195 CITAFFER XXTT. ission [that »le to iniou, se we gave it the ind re- unlock t from I, for I fays be fit qni atioTiivl i neces- iwrence IN WHICH OUK HKUO TWIRLS A gHILLRLAtiH. IT was a cloudy morning, and tlie wind was from tho soutli, — an ideal hunting morning. The S(juire and Hugh wer« early at the meet, the former — as became a regular sulisoriber to the Hunt — being regularly attired in scarlet coat, white leather breeches, and top boots, the latter in garments less resplendent, as became an amateur. Ffugh soon discovered that Nora merited the encomiums of her owner, and by strictly following the Squire's advice, he found himself nmch more at eise than he had anticipated, and al>le to observe the novel spectacle. Besides the meml)ers of the Hunt, there was a crowd of small farmers and persons of the middle class, all variously mounted, and a picturesquely ragged and enthusi- a.stic following on foot. The huntsman, surrounded by his hounds, gave a brief nod and a flourish of his whip by way of salutation as the Sijuire came up, and soon after the field was put in motion over the wild, unenclosed heath lands to the west of the Inniscarra road. As they approached a covert about a mile from the castle the dogs gave cry, and amid a full-sounding chorus of " Tally-ho ! " "Gone f^ay ! " and the wild halloo of those whom we may term the light infantry of the assemblage, the whole field swept forward behind the master of the Hunt. For a few minutes our hero thought he must inevitably part company with Nora, but his cousin whispered " Lean forward, my boy, and trust your weight to the stirrups !" Hugh did this, and found that the tenlency to part company with the filly was considerably lessened, although he could not help thinking that, were Nora to stop suddenly, he himself would, in all probability, be thrown over her head. In this manner they rode over a rough common covered with heather and furze, which opened suddenly on a narrow strip of green pasture, through which the chalybeate lirook which ran at the foot of Carrig-Desmond gently mean- dered. The brook was scarcely more than a yard in width, but to Hugh's inexperienced eye it was an object no less formidable than the Atlantic ocean. The hounds, in full cry, had passed over without wetting a hair, all save one lacjgard dog which the huntsman had reined in his horse to Urge tut- T'^ lll^? ii mn 198 UPON THIS ROCK. ward. The load was taken by a young man, in full costumo, mounted on a powerful black horse. " Bravo, Dick ! " shoutrrl the Squire, as this person swept onward, gave his horse the rein, and cleared the brook Ifke a flash. The rest of the field generally followed his example, among thorn Desmond and his cousin the Squire. How he held on it was impossible for our hero to bethink himself, — he was conscious that his cousin had gently touched Nora with the whip, that he him self involuntarily pressed his legs to the animal and constricted his mu.scles, and lo ! the feat was accomplished, "Well done, my boy ! " said the Squire, his face in a glow with the exercise and radiant with satisfaction, "you are doing finely. However, take it coolly; I know every foot of the ground, and take my word for it, all those headstrong gentlemen who have forged ahead are bound to be thrown out soon." " Thrown out ? " inquired Hugh, " what do you mean ? surely luch excellent riders are not going to be thrown 1 " " No, no," laughed his cousin, " not, exactly : * thrown out ' is what I may term the technical phrHse for losing the hounds. In an easy stretch of country such as this, nearly all young hunters outride the dogs, and when the fox doubles they are temporarily thrown out of the hunt." " I understan#l," answered Hugh, " but who was that fine- looking man who went to the front just now on the large black horse ? " " Oh, that was Dick Furlong, the Miller's son. The old man has made a pretty large fortune out of those large mills we can just see from the castle. The son, Dick, has an am- bition to enter the charmed circle of the county gentry ; he subscribes to the Hunt, and so on ; and, faith, they tell nift the heralds have, for value received, furnished Master Dick with a coat of arms, crest and motto." * Indeed," said Hugh, " and do you know what the motto is?" " No, indeed, coz," answered the Squire, " unless it is * Eight furlongs make one mile.' However, Dick is a good fellow, an excellent fellow, — too good to bother himself with such trifles. Were the Queen to knight hira to-morrow he would still be no nearer the object of his ambition, for our county families, though poor as Job, — at least some of them, — are as proud as Lucifter. I have heard it rumoured that Dicjk aspires to the N UPON THIS ROCK. 197 liiotto hftnd of IMiss Eva Burke ; — but listen ! 'gad I hear tlie inusio of the pack. Reynard is coming this way, as 1 said he would. Well, I shall have time to smoke a cigar," — and the Squire began to smoke. The cousins had drawn in their horses soon after crossing the brook, in the KJiade of a copse, nearly all the rest of the hunters pushing their way through after the hounds. Hygh was indescribably glad of the rest, the extraordinary shaking he had already received, together with the cramped position of his limbs, making him almost wish he had not ventured on horseback. " And who is Eva Burke 1 " he asked, after the Squire's cigar had been fairly lit. '* She passed us not long after Dick," replied Maurice ; " she was the first lady to cross the brook. She comes of a very old and distinguished family, the Norman De Burghos ; the estate is large, but terribly saddled with debt." "I remember," said Hugh, '* shi- sat her horse very grace- fully, I think." t* You may say tliat," < - ''erved the Squire, "faith, there is no better horsewoman in Ireland. The young man who rode almost close to her bridle was young Cator, — another scion of a proud but impoverished house. The Cators are all bitter Orangemen, — fanatics of the deepest dye. In the time of the Famine, in '46 and '47, they were Soupers, that is, they only administered relief on condition that the recipients would attend the Protestant church and send their children to the Protestant school. The people fairly detest them, and no doubt they detest the people. Some years ago I had to use my authority as a magistrate to keep young Cator and ray boy Owen from a breach of the peace." " So you think that Mr. Furlong is in love with Miss Burke ? " inquired Hugh. " I have heard that he admires her very much ; and per- haps he relies somewhat on his father's guineas ; — the old miller is worth quite a hundred thousand pounds. But Dick is a Catholic, not over and above well educated, and the Burkes would laugh him to scorn. Moreover, Cator is in the way, and T would bet my horse that he will win the lady. But see, here they come ! By Jove, there is the fox ! Yoicks, tally-ho ! " Like a whirlwind on they came, fox, hounds and hunters, ^ymmm n 198 UPON THIS ROOK. 4 I lit V* 1 1 1 and the Squire, fairly carried away with excitement, put spurs to his horse and sped forward in the chase. For a minute or two Hugh watched them as they careered on to the left, en* countering stone fences, gates and ditches as they we.it. Here and there a horse would refuse the leap, and once or twice a gleam of white leatiier above the neck of some animal showed where the rider had come to grief. Noting thesa things care- fully, Desmond concluded that a tyro in fox-hunting, however gentle and tractable his '' mount," would appear to small ad- vantage in the rear of so precipitate a body, and wheeling his horse he soon found himself on the high road to the castle. Now it was that he discovered the loss of his hunting whip, which had probably gone to the bottom of the brook in the course of Nora's leap. Among the many l)oys and gorsoons that he encountered Hugh, however, soon found one willing to cut a switch from a neighbouring tree, the recompense of a bhilling fairly throwing the youngster into an ecstacy of delight. Touching Nora on the flank, our hero began to ex- perience the questionable pleasure of a rapid trot along a rough road, and he began devoutly to wish that the day's sport was at an end. Just as he sighted the castle, however, the fox broke covert at the foot of the hill, and Desmond plainly distinguished the eager, panting hounds and two gen* tlemen and a lady riding close behind them. There being no obstacle in the way, Hugh himself touched Nora's side with liis spurs, and bending forward joined in the chase. Save for the three hunters above-mentioned, he was now ahead of all the others. Reynard was evidently weakening, the course was open, and within a few minutes the dogs were rolling over and tearing their prey. The two gentlemen leaped from their horses and one of them, whom Desmond recognized as Dick Fui'long, cried exultantly : " In at the death ! The brush : I claim the brush ! " The lady, who was Miss Eva Burke, had reined in her foam- ing steed, and Desnio"d just at this moment drew up beside her. The fox, torn and mangled, lay dead on the ground, and some other nieiubers of the Hunt rode up, among them being the Squire. " The brush ! " said the other of the two foremost hunters : " the brush belongs to me by right. Hands off ! " " Not so, Mr. Oator ! " said Furlong, " it is mine by right. tJI»ON tniS ROCK. m mrs s or , cn- ier© ce a awed care- rever II ad- ig his ;astle. whip, in the rsooyis willing ise of a acy of to ex- along a le day's ^owevcr, )e8\nond ,wo gen* :)eing no ide with 3ave for id of all course rolling jdfrom nized as tlier foam- p beside ground, )ng them hunters', by rig^'^- ^air play among gentlemen," — and lie stepped forward to claim the prir^e. " Among gentlemen, sir ? " said Cator, " what do you know about gentlemen ? " and raising his hunting whip the haughty young seigneur drew the lash straight across the other's face, leaving thereon a vivid red line. " Cator ! Cator ! for shame ! " cried the muster of the Hunt, while poor Furlong, deeply abashed, slunk away from his enraged adversary. Ere, however, he could utter a word of complaint or protest, his cause was espoused by an unlooked- for champion. Hugh Desmond had seen the blow, and beheld Furlong's retreat, but almost before the supercilious frown liad left Cator's countenance our hero confronted him. " You infernal coward ! " cried Hugh, " how dare you do that 1 " and in an instant he was raining showers of blows from his light and pliant switch on the head and shoulders of the astonished huntsman. " Separate them ! part them ! " cried the Squire ; " my lord marquis, ride between them ! make way ! " Just as the switch broke short in Desmond's hand, young Cator, maddened to desperation, sprang forward. As he did so our hero shot forth his right arm and planted a heavy blow between the eyes of his opponent, who fell prone on the gnuss. The marquis and his brother sportsmen, together with a host of onlookers of every degree, rushed in, the Squire grasping Hugh's arm and forcibly dragging him to the rear. Some ladies had also ridden up who were surveying the scene with looks of mingled terror and interest. Miss Eva Burke looking attentively from Hugh Desmond to the place where Mr. Cator, once more on his feet, stood pale and discomfited, and evidently by no means anxious to renew the contest. On the other hand, our hero stood flushed to the roots of his hair, his eyes sparkling and scintillating with excitement. "Who is this man that has attacked Mr. Cator 1 " in(]uired Eva, fixing a glance rather of curiosity than of dislike upon Hugh. " This gentleman is my cousin," said Squire Maurice ; " Mr. Hugh Desmond, grandson of Garrett Desmond, my father's brother. My lord marquis," he said, addressing the master of the Hunt, " my cousin will be at the castle until next week should any further proceedings be taken." " Hurrah for the ould stock ! " shouted a deep-toned voice ^H: TT^ ■sffi 200 UPON THIS ROClt. from the crowd of farmers and townsmen ; " hurrah for the ould stock ! and to hell wid the bloody Orangeman ! " "Silence there, you omadhaun ! " said the marquis, pointing as he did so to the centre qf the mob where Pat Shine stood conspicuous. Then approaching the Squire he said : , " Maurice, my friend, your explanation is satisfactory. Cator will not dare to move in the affair ; but, upon my honour, I am glad the old manner of obtaining satisfaction can no longer be had recourse to. Cator is by far too high and mighty, and I am not sorry he has learned a lesson," — «nd with a bow to Hugh his lordship shook hands with the Si lire and turned awaj' toward his whipper-in. " Come out of this as soon as possible," said the Squire to Hugh when they were once again on horseback ; " come away, or all the girls will be falling in love with you and all the men will be jealous. Faith," he continued, as they rode up the hill toward the castle, we shall have Tom Cahill over this evening as sure as there is meat in mutton, and by St. Kevin's eye-tooth we'll make a night of it." Now that returning reason enabled our hero to reflect upon the incident? of the last hour, he regretted very much that he had committed so grave an indiscrel.'on. " Cousin Maurice," he said, " for the first time in my life I realize that anger is a short madness, and I am thoroughly ashamed of myself for losing my self-control as I have done. I could live, I think, a hundred years in England without being betrayed into such itaprudence ; but really it almost seems that the very air of Ireland is provocative of quarrels. I can only plead in excuse for my conduct that the insolence of that cub Cator made my fingers tingle. For a moment he seemed to me an incarnation of all that is tyrannous and despotic." " Not another word by way of exculpation, my dear boy. I tell you that your appearance in the streets of Inniscarra would provoke wild enthusiasm. Whatever Englishmen might think of your action, there is scarcely a man — or a woman either, for that matter — in Leinster who would not praise it. Poor Dick Furlong ! he will never go hunting again, I ain afraid. I am sorry for him." *• But why did he not defend himself, cousin 1 " inquired Hugh. " Surely so smart-looking a man cannot be a pol- troon ? " 'le ha that '>ump( ^^ton be a C ••lame ^'tmini many "Th J"en coi (ij«eren and it keep o; t'H'OUgh ..JLt M UPON THIS ROCK. •201 " No, not quite a poltroon," answered the Squire, " Dick is a daring rider never shirking a fence or a hurdle ; but, like all our middle-class folk— those whom the French term the bourgeoisie — he is dominated by a kind of superstitious rever- ence for the gentry. I verily believe that some of them would rather be kicked by a nobleman than left altogether unnoticed. But here we are, home at last. Faith, I am glad of it ; too much excitement tells at my age." The Squire's prediction anent Father Tom was fulfilled by that ecclesiastic's appearance at dinner that evening. Even the sour-visaged Father O'Ruarc smiled a grim «mile of satisfaction when the Squire dramatically portrayed v'ne dis- comfiture of the haughty representative of the most detested family of the district, and he cordially signified his r.ssent when the administrator proposed a bumper ** and no heeltaps" to the health of the " gallant young Paladin," as Ue termed our hero. " Of course," said Lieutenant Wallace, " of course. Father Tom, I am always willing to assist in honouring my young friend ; but I must enter my protect against the process of Hibernicising to which he appears to yield so readily. Were our stay here to be protracted, Father Tom, I should be apprehensive that Mr. Hugh Desmond — like your illustrious countryman in the story — would soon feel tempted, whenever li»' caw a head, to hit it with his shillelagh. You know that he has not acted quite like a wise man, for ' He that passeth hy, and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the ears.' But come, let us have the bumper." '* A dog indeed, Lieutenant," said Father O'Ruarc, " all the Cators are dogs. In the old times of proscription, when to be a Catholic was to live on sufferance, that family burnt its name on the memory of the people. Afterwards, in the Famine, they organized and headed a Souping Committee, and many were the souls they conducted to hell." " Those are evil memories, Father Lawr^ce," replied th» f,'ood-natured Lieutenant. " I wish from m} heart that Irish- man could agree to bury them. Unhappily, your religious (htlerences are coupled with the question of race-ascendancy, luid it seems to me that they mutually fan each other and keep one another alive. Other countries have also gone through periods of religious conflict, oqt of which they hftv^ iPilJ i 202' UPON THI8 ROCK. emerged into toleration. You must excuse me for saying that I think your countrymen do not serve their country's best interests by so closely identifying their politics with their religion." " For more than three centuries," said Father O'Ruarc, "the Oatliolic Church has been virtually identified with the patriotic aspirations of Irishmen ; and the time is at hand when the clergy and people will stand shoulder to shoulder in demand- ing the restitution of Ireland's right." " For the present, Father Lawrence," observed Hugh, " it looks like that ; and I think we are all glad of it, so long as the demand be made temperately and wisely." " Temperately and wisely 1 " said the curate. " I confess I do not understand what you mean," " It is easy for me to explain my meaning," answered our hero. " The simple trutli is, that in your so-called patriotic newspapers, and in various volumes of what we may call the Irish National Library, a systematic course is pursued of depreciating British courage, and indeed of all things English — or British, — -while, on the other hand, even the failings of the Irish character are held up as virtues. Surely it is not wise to act in this manner ? Indeed, were not the English people the be8t-n?>tured people upon earth, they would hardly tolerate such metliods, or treat them so contemptuously. I am sure that Germans, Frenchmen and Russians would never do so." " Bedad, youngster ! " exclaimed the administrator, " you hit us hard there. The methods you allude to almost make me ashamed of the cause sometimes. I could point to hun- dreds of passages such as you speak of. The plain truth is, that poor old Ireland is at least fifty years behind England in civilization, — of course, that is not her own fault altogether. If it should turn out that Father Larry there is a true pro- phet, and that the bishops and clergy take a prominent part in this new movement, I, for one, cordially hope they will teach our agitators better manners. It is neither polite nor politic, let me tell you, gentlemen, to ask a man a favour or to do you Justice, while calling him a sanguinary, cowardly, base, and brutal old wretch." Desmond smiled at Father Tom's illustration, and turning towaid the curate, he said : ♦' Xl»er»^ is just one other point, perhaps, to be considere»'' » <"»' near thn I'l^o came in from t^he deck hu"" "''" *''«" "■« other man '-.^rTh'^"-; ^^-^ fad-r^i^or* """-'" 'erth no doubt with the intent^ ofT "'"'^ ^^^^^''^^ *«is ;Ve are having a rather ronlh ^''^nging his clothing ;^ ^^IJHoe to the stronger "^^ ^'"''^S' ^^ ^ V observed lifr ;-;;*'-- ■■'=-. -/rea'r/^i^'tt,:'^ '^^ New York nearly , • «exporienced .ince^tl en iLT' ""f-'easant weath? ".'"!> seien years, _vear% nf ••'"*" ""jsent from homt -ickness anrl T •' . °' vicissitude anrl l, j i • ™ 'i 'I ! ! : ! m Xipcm tm^ Mtt. m "' f #11 seen tears gather unbidden fti the eyes of many a weather- beaten old tar. But I took you for an American at first." " Yes, I suppose so," answered the other. " No doubt I have become transformed in appearance. Excess of heat and excess of cold, with the illness resulting therefrom, must alter a man considerably ; I know that my shoulders are bent and my cheek-bones as prominent as those of an Indian. But, after all, what does it matter ? it will be all the same a hun- dred years hence. However, I must go to my berth and put my traps in order for landing." '' So you see the value of first impressions," said Hugh, when the stranger had departed. " The man is not an Ameri- can, after all. But what are you thinking of, eh ? " " Why, I was thinking whether or not it will be all the same a hundred years hence, as he said ; that is to say, I was trying to discover if the conviction of the utter vanity of human life can be made to confer a stoical resignation or acquiescence in the What Is to the extent of rendering one superior to the blows and bufiets of malignant fortune." " I think," said Desmond, " that G. H. Lewes somewhere intimates, while speaking of the Stoics, that to stand face to face with Death and havp no regrets is to be regarded as proving one's unworthiness of life. It is the philosophy of the savage to which the civilized man is superior. I thmk we can agiee to that, — * * For who, to dumb forgetfulndsa a prey. This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned : Left the warm precincts of tiie cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind 1 ' " " Then you are no Pessimist, at any rate," said the lieuten- ant. " Well, you are young, and doubtless you see all things, even the misty future, through rose-coloured glasses." " You do not quite understand me yet, my friend, if you imagine that youth alone makes me optimistic," answered Hugh. '• When I was even younger, I took a much more gloomy view of life and man's destiny than, I think, the majority of religious persons are wont to take. Now that my mind is free, or nearly so, from radical misconceptions, I can contemplate man's nature and destiny rationally, believing that ' whatever is, is right ' in so far as that it cannot be otherwise. I know that it is possible, both for the individual s eattier- »t." oubt I at and st alter mt and But, a hun- tnd put Hugh, Ameri- ) all the ^, I was anity of ition or ring one 5." newhcre i face to arded as sophy of iiink we lieuten* 11 things, id, if you answered uch more hink, the f that my )n8, I can believing cannot be individual t^<*01f tills ROCK. ^ , understand you Ff t„ '"'* ^ ••"" "ot quite sj^th.; -d objective' ^ynt^!^"::^^ &'"'•" " ' ^«- -bS Surely not so awfnl „ ''^^^"'stic Anaro ly." • ""i4cti:;:f::i„^i^;»t''»'s." ^.d ti.eLieute„«„t,..„„. Ifc sounds very weJI » . i-, , ^ rtt"*''"''«'«» '■•wScT''"''"^ .a„t roall, you " «^ii f?* "*"»«» ^bo took rdrr'"' ^""^ p'<=""*- vou Irt"« ^ '«?"""■* «Ve ere v^f^i^*^ "«>* in heaven *n.o„ sense":" ^''"'»' ' ^-n-ond ; give'", at^.t ;»jf CdTcltSntir-- 'f-Sr' """>'»«-' Oepio^d 1 1 it' 'fTfrr 208 UPON THIS KOCK. " Right," observed Mr. Wallace. " This is Holyhead. I am glad to get away from that awful tumbling, which makes me think of the hundred and seventh Psalnr." As the express train steanged out of the station the friends discovered among their fellow passengers the anxious-looking man and the elderly farmer, — that is, if he were a farmer. Directly opposite Hugh sat a short rotund man of middle age, — evidently a foreigner, — while the anxious gentleman and the elderly man sat beside each other fronting the Lieutenant. In reply to a courteous salute from the stranger the friends bowed to him, and Desmond observed : — "At last, sir, you are on the soil of England, or of Wales, which is almost the same thing ; I hope your tire is not now quite so ardent." " Thank you, sir ; I am afraid to tell you how great is my delight. In a few short hours I shall be at home, in my mother's arms. Possibly you will think me a milksop ; but, gentlemen, it is not so, I assure you. I am merely a living illustration of the oH proverb, a rolling stone that has gathered no moss." "And yet," said Lieutenant Wallace, "we generally regard America as an admirable gathering-place, as a sort of Tom Tiddler's ground, in fact." " No doubt many have found it so," returned the stranger, "although I have not. But I am quite wilWng to concede that my case is a peculiar one. Had I been a sinewy, physi- cally strong man, doubtless I could have earned a living." Here the elderly man interposed. " May I ask, sir," ho said, " if you are speaking of America ? " I " Yes, sir," replied the other, " I have just come from there." The foreign-looking gentleman, by whom not a word of the conversation had been lost, now exclaimed — " You came by the Scythia, eh 1 Yes, I thought so ; I left on the Erin the day before ; but she is not swift. You were in Queenstown some hours before us. You go to London, eh 1 " Something iu the last speaker's manner excited our hero's attention and stimulated his curiosity. " Pardon me," he said, " if I am intrusive ; but you also are from America 1 Yet you are not an American, I think." ^^ Deo gnitias .^ no ; I am a German, Ulrich von Kloss, of Marbourg. 1 \m\e been in America si^c months studying, *?pear -which UPON THIS BOCK. 209 , I ikes ends king 'mer. L and nant. •lends V^ftles, b now is my other'ii lemen, tration moss." regard af Tom ranger, concede ng" sir, » ho he from Id of the . I left tou were on, ehV xr hero's you also krican, I IkIoss, of itudywg, and the doinocrncy observing, for my Iwok on the IVechsils" weise Folge,-^whnt you call it in English ?— the, ah — " "Alternations or vicissitudes, perhaps," suggested Mr. Wallace. •' Yes, that is it, thanks," said Herr von Kloss, with a bcw to the Lieutenant, " my book on the Alternations of the Mon- archical and Democratical Principles in History. Ich habe es ange/angen, aber ich habe es nicht geenaigt.* But you, sir, sprechen sie Deutsch ? " f " Ich spreche es ein wenig,"l replied Mr. Wallace, " jljr Ich verstehe dan Deutsche besser als Ich es sprechen kann, ao if you please, we will talk in English, Herr von KIosb. You thank God that you are not an American ; do you not like America then ? " " Ich Hebe ihn nicht mehr, — I do not like it any more," Baid the other vehemently, shaking his head most emphatically; " it is the country where the birds do not sing, where the flowers perfume not, and where the women do not love. Aoh ! it is the country of the mean, the mediocrity. I like it not." " I sometimes think want of success lies at the bottom of my not liking America," said the voyager : " but this gentle- man is evidently much more prejudiced than I am. As to the women not loving, why, according to the papers, they sometimes love too well, as indeed women do everywhere. But I was born under an evil star, I guess, — you see I have learned so much Yankee, at any rate. My name is Wiltshire, —Charles Wiltshire, — and some years ago I was private secretary to a nobleman who has since become a cabinet minister. During my spare time, — and T had plenty of it, — I wrote a comedy which was brought out at the Princess's and which remained on the bills long enough to put some money in my pocket and to dazzle me with the prospect of becoming a successful playwright. I resigned my secretaryship, and took to writing a five-act drama. Gentlemen, that drama has not yet seen the light. Finally, I went to New York, where I played a minor character in my own comedy, which, after having been taken by my manager to Texas and on through the West, netted us both a small profit, — nothing great. On * " I have begun but not flnished it." t " Do you opeak Oerman } " t "I speak ft a little; but I understand Oerman better than I oan speak it,"— which is precise! J the case with the clironicler aloo. U r ! 210 UPON THIf ROCK. ii^li III l| H mj return to New York I tried my hand at journalism, in which I had 8ome funny experiences. It was a miserable hand-to-mouth existence, and everywhere tlie fact of my being a ' Britisher ' turned to my disadvantage. It is surprising to ■ee and feel the depth of animosity retained i>y the average Americans towards the English, and which they manifest even while aping English fashions and doing their utmost to emu- late English costumes. I found my very accent an impedi- ment." " Dear, dear ! " observed the elderly man, " I had no idea that our cousins were so predisposed against us." " It is scarcely worth mentioning, perhaps," continued Wiltshire, " but there are thousands of Englishmen in Americ.-v who will confirm my experience by their own. I assure you, gentlemen, that there is no other country in the civilized world in which foreigners are .so insulted as Englishmen in America are insulted by American citizens." " Yet," remarked the Lieutenant, " our notables, — whethtu- members of the aristocracy, or lions scientific, literary or ar- tistic, — are welcomed there, and come home with well-filled purses." " True enough," replied Mr. Wiltshire j " they become the rage, and if they are willing to place themselves on show they reap their reward. However, I was not a lion, and so I did not occupy the public attention very much. I know that failure distorts the vision, and so does success. What English man does not regret that Charles Dickens should have written that second preface, or whatever it is, to ' Martin Chuzzlc- wit?'" " I assure you," said Desmond, "that I have no feeling in the matter, but then I am not a hero-worshipper, and even if I were my heroes would not be taken from amongst novel- writers. But you did not succeed in journalism t " " No, sir, I did not," returned Wiltshire ; " I once got an introduction to some great Mogul among magazine editors, who employed me to write a special paper on a certain subject of importance, just as he would have employed a carpenter to make a box. I myself was very much interested in the question, but my enthusiasm ebbed like Bob Acres' courage before the cool business-like impudence of that infernal ead. I was limited to three thousand words, a proof of my paper was sent to an opponent of my views, in order that both i*. UPON THIS ROCK. 211 articles might be publiohed in juxtaposition, and I wh» — but let me read it to you." Here Mr. Wiltohire drew out his pocket-book and after a brief search took therefrom a sheet of paper. " This," he said, " is the editorial order for the article T Rpoke of, and I will read it to you as a specimen of the treat- ment accorded to the hack-writers in a country where such creatures as this editor in some measure control the reading of the people. Listen, please : ' Do your very best from a literary point of view, as it will make you if you make a hit. You will get twenty-five dollars for your work if it is not con- sidered suitable, so as to protect you from loss ; fifty dollars if it is published, and it will make you famous besides. Write it as soon as possible, but take time enough to do your level best — or altitude best.' There, gentlemen, what do you think of that?" "Think?" said Desmond, " ti Jik ? Why, really, that T should scarcely attach much value to such fame as this 'alti- tude best ' man seems able to dispense. He seems to have stepped out of the Dunciad : *' ' Glory and gain the industrious tribe provoke, And gentle Dulness ever loves a jok«.' But the train is slowing, I think ; yes, we are coming to a station." '•It is Bangor, I think," said the Lieutenant, " we shall probably stop here some minutes." "Glad to hear it, I am sure," replied Wiltshire, "I will stretch my legs a little on the platform then." As the train drew up to the platform, Mr. Wiltshire moved toward the window. *' You will find the door locked, probably," said Desmond, " but the guard will open it, or one of the porters when the train stops." The other, having lowered the window, endeavoured to turn the handle of the door. At this moment, the elderly man stood up, placed a small black travelling bag in the Lieuten- ant's hands, and dexterously seizing Wiltshire by the collar he forced him bodily and unceremoniously down into tiie lap of Herr von Kloss, very much to that worlhy gentleman's astonishment, and indeed no less to that of all in the compart- ment. ' 212 ttfON THIfi ROCk. *' What the devil ^o you mean by this outra " " Hush, my fine fellow ! " said the other, " the game's up, and you are my prisoner," and Vhile speaking he glanced sig- nificantly at a revolver which he held in his right hand, the muzzle pointing toward the roof of the carraige. " Yes, I arrest you in the name of the Queen ; I am Inspector Braith- waite, of Scotland Yard, and you are Martin Walsh, the Dy- namiter. You carried it off well, — by God, sir, you carried it off very well! but I have followed you all the way from Queenstown, sizing you up. Your story was a good one, — a neat one, — but I saw your motive. Yes, sir, the game's up, so take it coolly. Hold on ! I am not such a damned fool as to let you leave the carriage. There ! " and almost as if by magic he had, while not relinquishing the pistol, brought the man's wrists together and clasped around them a pair of glittering handcuffs. " T assure you. Inspector," said the prisoner, " you have made a terrible mistake. I am Charles Wiltshire, and — " "Yes, yes, I know, my hearty," replied the detective, " stow all that ! I beg your pardon, mounsee?," — this to Herr 'on Kloss, — " but I will relieve you in a second. You, sir," he said to Mr. Wallace, "just look after that bag carefully for a short time : God only knows but it is chock full of dyna- mite ; so be careful." The train having stopped, the detective signalled i^ the guard, the door was opened, and, despite his protestations, the prisoner removed to the platform. Lieutenant W^allace showing intense relief when Inspector Braithwaite assumed control of the black bag. The detective had no sooner jumped out of the carriage than he was joined by two stalwart men, whose avocation their tourist tweeds but poorly concealed. " I must have a separata compartment," said the inspector to the guard; "you can manage that easily I suppose, eh!" " All right, sir," replied that official, "come this way, if you please." " One moment, Inspector, if you will be so good," said the prisoner, who took the allair with remarkable coolt.ess ; " h't me speak two words to that gentleman in the carriage," and he nodded towards l)»>smoMd. "You aio going to London, sir ; will you take the trouble to run down to Wanstead, Geor;^e Lane, and uujuiro for Mrs. Wiltshire 'f She is my ; 1 UPON TWTS ROCK. 213 B up, d slg- i, the iTes, 1 raith- leDy- riedit from ■a neat \o take , to let magic 1 man's Lttering )U have i— " stective, to Herr ou, sir," carefully of dyna- , the lona, tlie showing ,ntrol of id out of kn, whose jinspector suppose, ly, if yo^ said tlie less ; " h't aiie, and London, IV an stem I, the is my mother and you will explain the mistake of this good man who takes me for » Fenian." '• I will do 80 with pleasure," cried Hugh, "and, Inspector, I feel convinced that you are under a painful mistake." " Maybe, maybe, young man," answered the detective ironically, " but you have the address, George Lane, Wanstead, and time's up. Come on, mends, this way." Tlius left to themselves, the three travellers had enough food for conversation on their journey, the German gentleman being evidently strongly impressed by the shrewdness and sagacity of the secret police of England. Desmond and the Lieutenant, however, who knew them, at least by repute, much better than did Herr von Kloss, agreed in the conclusion that Inspector Braithwaite had sacrificed the substance for the shadow, and our hero was eager to reach Euston in order to satiny himself upon the matter. Thus it was that, while Lieutenant Wallace was being conveyed in a hansom toward Paddington, to catch the train that was to convey him to Devonshire, Hugh Desmond nad taken a cab to Liverpool Street, on his way to the suburb where he hoped to find Mrs, Wiltshire. CHAPTER XXIV. WHEREIN MB. CURTIN CHANGES LODGINGS. A FEW minutes' walk from the station at Snaresbrook brought our hero to George Lane. It was yet early in the evening, and the light was good While he was consider- ing where to begin his inquiry for Mrs. Wiltshire his eye was ( aught by a tablet on the wall of a house, upon which was carved the following singular inscription : — Restdrat 1808. RC. IN MEMORY OP YE CHERRY FEY. AS COST i A eUINKY. That day wc had good cheer, I hope to do so niaiiey a year. 1752 Da^i Jersey. ii ^tl m 214 UPON TBIS ROCK. Marvelling somewhat that as much immortality should be accorded to the memory of a cherry pie as to that of a great commander, statesman, or poet on some monumental tablet in the Abbey, Desmond copied the inscription into his pocket- book. W '^e doing this a policeman, upon whose head time seemed to hang heavily, sauntered by. ** You are interested in the Cherry Pie, I see, sir," he said. " Well, the gentleman who restored the tablet still lives at Woodford, but nobody knows why it was that in 1762 such a pie should have cost half-a-guinea." " Either it must have been a very large pie," remarked Hugh, " or else cherries must have been unusually hard to procure that year. But, policeman, can you tell me if a Mrs. Wiltshire lives hereabout?" " Mrs. Wiltshire, the old lady who has a son in America play-acting ? Yes, sir, that cottage down there on the left, inside the two big elm trees, is her house." Hugh's heart fairly leaped with pleasure at this confirma- tion of the account given of himself by the traveller, and by his own conviction that the detective had, — as detectives in real life seem bound to do, — made a serious mistake. He hurried toward tiie cottage, passed through the trim little garden, gay with chrysantheitiums and asters, and knocked at the door. It was opened by an old lady who wore a widow's cap, but whose countenance, — despite the evident traces of many sorrows and afflictions, — was irradiated by the calm sunset glow of patience and resignation, — or shall we term it acquiescence f j "Your name, ma'am," began Desmond, "is Wiltshire, I believe. If so, and unless I am mistaken, I have to request the favour of an interview with you, if you please." " Yes, sir," said the lady, " my name is Wiltshire. Come in, if you please," and she led the way into a little parlour, whose window resembled a kit-cat portrait in a framework of fragrant jasmine, the spreading leaves of the creeper deepening the darkness within the room so much that at first our hero i found it dithcult to distinguish anything. There were a ladyj and a gentleman present, and tliey seemed to have been on | the eve of departing just as Desmond's knock had called thei old lady from tlie room. " If you please, Mr. Kirke," said Mrs. Wiltshire, placing »j chair for the new visitor, and speaking somewhat tremulously,! 'ong-la8h( their ha UPON THIS ROCK. 215 Id be great )let in locket- [ time le said. ives at such a marked hard to [ a Mrs. America the left, Bonfirtja- r, and by jctives in ake. He rim little nocked at a widow's traces of the calm re term it liltshire, I request Ire. Come \e parlour, rework oi deepening ^t our hero rere a lady re been on I called the |, placing »l remulou8\Y,| " Something tells me that I am about to hear news of my poor boy. If so, I should like you to remain a little longer, and you also, Miss, if you would be so good. It is rather dark in here, sir," she said, addressing Desmond, " but if you please, before lighting the lamp, I would like to know if my presenti- ment is to be confirmed. In that case, whatever the news may be, I would rather receive it in the gloaming, I think." " I am happy, madam," replied Desmond, " to be the bearer of good news. Your son, Mr. Charles Wiltshire, is now in England, — in London, — and I have come here to explain why he is unable to fulfil the dearest wish he has, — that of seeing his mother." " You have seen him, sir 1 " said the good old lady, " you have seen my Charles ? He is well, — but no ; or what would keep him from his mother's embrace 1 " " He is well, Mrs. Wiltshire, quite well, I assure you," answered Desmond, " but the victim of one of the most ludi- crous errors that ever the official mind fell into." " Excuse me, sir ; just one moment ! " and Mrs. Wiltshire, retiring from the little parlour, almost innnediately returned bringing with her a lighted lamp. As its radiance illuminated the room Hugh Desmond sprang to his feet in astonishment, for sitting there before him, on the other side of a small round table, and pale with suppressed agitation, was she whose memory he had for months vainly striven to banish, — the daughter of the Northcote Lily, Edith AUyn. There are in life, — or rather in some life-eniergencies, — moments wherein man's cerebration bids defiance to and temporarily nullifies all restrictions of time. Such, they tell us, are the instants which elapse between the last sinking of a drowning person and the loss of consciousness, instants during which the experiences of a lifetime come into mental review, their perception, analysis, and grouping being accomplished without confusion. Such a moment was this in the life of Hugh Desmond, a kaleidoscopic portion of time wherein all the circumstances of the old life at Culm Tor appeared in due order and luminosity. " Edith—Miss Allyn ! " he faltered ; " is it possible ? '* As she rose to greet him Hugh saw, or fancied, that she was greatly moved. She was very beautiful, her dainty figure being perhaps a trifle more developed than before. The long-lashed, liquid brown eyes met his very steadily, and as their hands touched the colour caiue back to her theek. 216 UPON THIS ROOK. Ilil'i " I knew it was you when I heard you speak," she sud. ** You are altered very much,- — shall I say you are so much more imposing? How very surprising all this is! But do not let us forget Mrs. Wiltshire. She is an old friend of this gentleman, who is also the clergyman of the next parish : — permit me: Mr. Desmond, Mr. Kirke; Mr. Kirke, Mr. Des- mond." Now it was that, for the first time, Hugh turned his eyes toward the other occupant of the apartment. Instinctively he recognised that the dapper little gentleman in Roman collar, neat surtout, and side whiskers, with a creamy-pink complexion like a Gloire de Dijon rose, was the Honourable and Reverend Richmond Kirke, the man whom Rumour, per sonified by Lieutenant Wallace, had represented as being the accepted suitor of Edith. The gentlemen courteously, cere- moniously exchanged bows : first impressions sometimes count for much, and there was evidently nothing sympathetic be- tween the clergyman and the dark, imperious-looking stranger who had so suddenly appeared to claim acquaintance with the young lady. " Pardon me, Mrs. Wiltshire," said Desmond, resuming his seat, " I will now tell you what I know respecting your son. Briefly, then, he has been, by the absurd mistake of a police- officer, arrested as a Fenian conspirator," — and oar hero rapidly narrated all that had occurred in connection with the arrest. "But where, dear sir," inquired the old lady anxiously, "do you suppose my boy is 1 Perhaps in Clerkenwell, Newgate, or some police-cell, in darkness and misery. Oh, what can we do ? what can we do. Miss Allyn, Mr. Kirke 1 " Edith had taken a chair beside the distressed mother, and taking her hands in hers she endeavoured to allay her fears. " Do not bo anxious, Mrs. Wiltshire," she said. " This is, as Mr. Desmond told us, only a ludicrous error. The idea of mistaking your son for a Fenian and a conspirator is really most absurd. Perhaps Mr. Desmond will suggest what course wo should follow to secure the immediate release of the young man." As she spoke Edith knew that Hugh Desmond's eyes were fixed upon her face. She did not venture to look up or tc return his glance ; and he experienced an indescribable sense of pain at tho idea that she sought as much as possible to smce "Ir statior Hea parloui prepay wasief and th There ^ but as t to the f self sid« "Mia Wanstej fny asto * railwa' '■eiuembc school in merely t} " The s could eas ^^y I te in a day ( Was t} |*ntl unste ten hiapli stability o I 'ess he rep "Edith, UPON THIS ROCK. 217 , eyes iively loman y-pink uvable ir, per ing the y, oere- 8 count jtic be tranger nth the ning hU jur son. a, police- ar hero rith the jly, " do fewgate, can we This is, idea of really at what »e of the ^es were or tc )1b senBe Bible to avoid him and to escape from any allusion to the past. Doubtless, he thought, she was right in thus acting, for, even though she had not been the promised bride of the clergyman, was not he, Hugh Desmond, bound in honour and by affection — he insisted, by aifection — to another ? "If Mrs. Wiltshire," he replied, *' is able to go up to Lon- don, and make application at Scotland- Yard to-night, I have no doubt her son's release may be effected. I myself will, of course, accompany her ; but it is desirable that some third person, of respectability, should also testify to and recognize the identity of Mr. Wiltshire." "That," said Mr. Kirke, "I can at least do. Mrs. Wilt- shire lived for years in our family, and I have known Charley since we were boys." *' In that case, then," observed Hugh, " if we can be at the station in time for the eight-fifteen, there will be no difficulty." Hearing this decision. Mi's. Wiltshire and Edith left the parlour, and in a very few minutes re-appeared, the former prepared for her unexpected journey to town. The cottage was left in charge of a little girl, half-domestic, half-companion, and the party proceeded toward the station at Snaresbrook. There was but little opportunity afforded Hugh for converse, but as they passed through the village Mrs. Wiltshire advanced to the front with the clergyman, and Edith Allyn found her- self side by side with the whilome assistant at Culm Tor. '* Miss Allyn," he observed, " the nature of my visit to Wanstead, and this hurried walk barely leave time to express my astonishment that a casual meeting with a stranger in a railway carriage should have led to this encounter. Now I remember that I had heard of Mr. Toynbee's acceptance of a school in this district, — I did not know the exact place, but merely that it was somewhere near Epping Forest." "The school is called Wanstead Hall," she replied. "You could easily find it, indeed it is plainly visible from the station. May I tell aunt and uncle Toynbee that we may expect you ,in a day or two? They would be delighted to see you." Was this young man, despite his look of resolution, weak I and unstable, that for the moment he seemed to have f orgot- Iten hia plighted troth ? Surely, as men estimate firmness and [stability of character, he was as strong as the oak ; neverthe- jless he replied ; " Edith, I will come if you assure me that I am forgiven ; 218 tJPOiV TAiB ROOlt. if I could but know that in your severest judgment you could acquit me of conscious, pre-dctermined wrong." " I have nothing to forgive," she replied, her lovely eyes meeting his shyly yet ingenuously ; " * To the Lord our God belon*^ mercies and forgiveness, though we have rebelled against him,' < But when I said My foot hath slipped, thy mercy, O Lord, held me up.' " , " Edith," said Hugh, "you are an angel. I will come down on Sunday. When I first heard of the engagement to this parson, this Mr. Kirke " What our hero would have said went unspoken, for the parson, as Hugh had somewhat contemptuously called him, here stepped a few yards back from Mrs. Wiltshire and hur- riedly addressing the young lady said : " Miss AUyn, the train is already near the bcidge, so we must hasten. Good bye ! you shall hear of our success to- morrow morning. Come, sir, or we shall lose the train after all." Scarcely giving our hero time to press the little hand ex- tended to him, the excited clergyman hurried him oflf to the flight of steps which Mrs. Wiltshire had already begun to ascend. Panting and almost breathless the old lady reached the platform just as the train came in. As the door of a second-class carriage was shut behind them, Mr. Kirke, with the two tickets ! ,ld firmly between his lips, sank into a corner seat. " Whew ! " he said, " I just managed to get them. Fortu- nately, the porter knew. me, or the gate would have been closed in my face." It was nearly midnight when Hugh Desmond, weary enough, as the reader may imagine, found himself in Glouces- ter Street. The light in the second-floor window showed that his telegram from Dublin had been received, and he felt glad to know that his home, — humble lodging though it were,— ^'u;'^ him. There had been little trouble or delay in ac- >i '>i .. ;< the release of Charlie Wiltshire, even Inspector s '>'i}..je. -having realized that he had been led by a fan- ci» '■} . ^ ' ' ince into a serious error, — affording every facility i lii vhe dii\e8mond ; Jurtin, as getting ire thesel igh Hugb Btired for| Lraaly, ^>' "William," she said, "Mr. Desmond is in some trouble, I think, and lias come to you for advice." " Thank you, Mrs. Curtin ; yes, that is so," replied Hugh ; *' the fact is that I wish to find a respectable quiet lodging for a lady, and that at once." " A lady ! " exclaimed Curtin, opening his eyes to their fullest extent, "a lady ! Wliere is she, in the name of heaven?" "She is in my apartments, Mrs. Curtin," said Desmond, ignoring William's look of surprise in his haste to prevent any regrettable suspicion that the reporter's wife might possibly form. " She is Lady Blanche Meadows, daughter of the Earl of Guisborough." " The saints defend us ! " said William, sinking into the nearest chair, " the daughter of Lord Guisborough of Holm wood Hall in your rooms ! " " The lady is my betrothed," replied Hugh, " and she has just come to Lonxlon. She must have a lodging at once ; can you suggest one ? " and he looked appealingly to Mrs. Curtin. " Of course I can," said the good woman, " the lady must condescend to pass the night in our poor place, while you, William, must go to Mr. Desmond's. Wait a bit," — she added, — " I will be ready to go with you in a moment. William, find your hat and what else you may need ', I declare you look stupefied." That Mr. Curtin was astounded was most unquestionable. He did not utter one intelligible word during the passage between the two houses. Blanche was sitting very comfort- ably in the arm-chair, before a good fire, her bonnet and mantle having been thrown carelessly on the table. Mrs. Wyatt was standing, with her hands folded, on the other side of the fire- place, gravely narrating an interesting reminiscence of her youth, when she had been housemaid at a clergyman's down in 'Ampshire, and when, — had she but known what married life was like, — she would have incontinently dismissed the then aspiring young polisher, and liave lived and died a virgin, Mary Curtin and her husband lingered respectfully near the door while Hugh went forward and bent down toward Blanche's ear. " My love," lie said, " welcome to my home in London. I have brought two good friends of mine, Mr. and Mrs. Curtin, who live near by ; Mrs. Curtin will arrange for to night, if you will trust to her." L 222 UPON THIS ROCK. Blanche stood up and looked toward Mary, who rightly con- strued the glance as an invitation to approach. " Mrs. Curtin," said the young lady, " let me apologize for the trouble I am giving ; I assure you that I am only too glad to know that you will assume such a burden as I shall prove to be." The reporter's wife barely touched the extended hand. Blanche drew her forward and kissed her, and for the moment it really seemed as though Mary were a suppliant for protec- tion and grace. " My lady," she said, with that innate good-breeding which enables the humblest Irishwoman to give honour where honour is due, " I only wish that T could offer accommodation suited to your rank and station." "Hush, dear ; not another v/ord of apology," said Blanche, •*I will go with you at once, for Mrs. Wyatt^nd these gentle- men are very tired, I am sure. Mr. Desmond, will you not introduce your friend ? " William came forward, still wearing a half-dazed look of surprise, and respectfully saluted the high-born maiden. "You do not know," said Hugh, "that Mr. Curtin almost ran away with me from Holm wood. At any rate, we came to London together ; he was at the League meeting. I am indebted to him for nmch true friendship and real kindness." " Indeed 1 " replied Blanche, " then he has made me also his debtor. Mr. Curtin, I thank you sincerely." " Your ladyship is very good to say so," answered Curtin ; " I have done very little for Mr. Desmond ; but if I can be of any assistance to your ladyship " — and here the reporter broke down. Mrs. Wyatt, who had by this time got an inkling of the rank of the strange lady, and who perchance, — women being keenly acute in affairs of the heart, — more than suspected the interest existing between her and Desmond, now came for- ward jime-defying, with a suggestion of refreshment. " On no account, Mrs. Wyatt," said Blanche, " there is really no necessity so to encroach on your good-nature. It is long after midnight. Mrs. Curtin, I am ready to accompany you. Gentlemen, good night ! " Though she were to live a thousand years, — she Is, I be- lieve, yet alive in London, though long since a widow, — ^Mary v^ ! UPON THIS ROCK. 223 I'urtin will never forget the occurrences of that night. She ••ndeavoured to persuade Blanche to occupy' the Tittle bed- chamber alone, but her efforts were futile. " Your sister, you say, is asleep in her own room," said Blanche. " I insist that you stay with me ; indeed, dear Mrs. Curtin, I want advice and direction from you." Thus pressed, Mary yielded ; in truth, she found it impos- sible long to oppose so resolute a guest. Having extinguished the night lamp, the reporter's wife summoned up courage to say : •* My lady, let us kneel together and offer our aspirations to the throne of God, and ask for the intercession of the Blessed Mother." Certain it is that Mary Curtin, though she live ten thousand years, will never forget the answer she received to her solicita- tion, "Mrs. Curtin," said Blanche, " of the God in whom I be- lieve I myself am a part and a portion, and so also are you. He is the * All-embracing, All-sustaining one,' around us and within US. He needs no prayers, no thanks, no teai*s. We cannot help but love Him, the Seen and Unseen, the mysteri- ous All. My heart is filled with him already, and in that other being whom I love so dearly the Deity vouchsafes me even a larger portion of the eternal Happiness, heart, love, (Jod ! " Blanche Meadows, was a woman, — I would that she were mine 1 CHAPTER XXV. WllKUBIN DOGBERRY MEETS A BEG(iAR. A CTING on the advice of Curtin, and accompanied by /~\ him, Desmond on the following morning secured rooms for Blanche at the Norwood Private Hotel, Adam Street, Adelphi, the house where his friend the Lieutenant always stopped while in London. Having done this he called a oab, determined that his friend should, if possible, breakfast at his family table. " You were unceremoniously banished from your bed last night, Mr. Curtin ; it would be too much were we to compel 11 •224 UPON THIS ROCK. the separatiun to extend to thu table also. One can dine any where ; but breakfast nowhere bo satisfactorily as at home, even though that be only a bachelor's lodging like mine. Therefore, let us go there." They found Mrs. Curtin and Nellie straining the resources or the establishment to their utmost in honour of their guest. There was no show of bustle or agitation, however ; Alary's well-disciplined, chastened mind had attained, — and many so- called philosophers have failed to reach this happy dignity, — what the poet terms " self-ieverence, self-knowledge, self-con- trol," and, though neither strong-minded nor learned, the re- porter's wife was yet a lady. At her own request Lady Blanche was allowed to make the tea, which she did, — us Miss Kellie Curtin afterwards affirmed with surprise, — "just as naturally, sure, as if she were a cottager's wife." Having early in the morning learned from her sister the quality of the stranger, Nellie had not asked the reason of Lady Blanche's sojourn there, but had devoted herself assiduously to helping her sister. At every possible opportunity, however, she in- dulged her curiosity, ever and anon blushing like a peony when the object of so much attention smilingly returned lier glance. William Curtin also seemed too shyly respectful to lead the way into his own apartments, and he stood, hat in hand, contemplating the breakfast table and the room gener- ally in an amusingly perplexed manner. Lady Blanche, how- ever, came forward and offered her hand. " Mr. Curtin," she said, " you have been shamefully treated on my account, and I must throw myself on your mercy for pardon. It would be but justice were you to throw me out of your house this morning in return for having been yourself driven out last night." " Throw you out, my lady ? " said William, his narivt readi- ness coming to his rescue, "sure you are too lovely a flower to be treated that way. I only regret that our circ;3sri» nances do Bot- " " Hush, hush ! " she replied, " I hope you will regard me as an old friend, as I do you. Now, here is Mr. Desmond wear- ing an air of great importance." Hugh was standing near, pleased to see her so much at home with his unassuming friends. "Indeed," he said, "do I look so grave? Well, we have transacted some affairs already this morning ; but really, ^^On Tttlfl ROCK. now r look nt Af p *''"■'' -I am afraid T k • ^ufc in the meantimfi T u^ m "^ J®'" me at once " 1' S"?'" «>.i."~S;'ftit!.";* -'x.: that must not be V^/ ^^^nche, " not to wait Z 15 •'^ II M j fj 22(5 UPON THIS ROCK. '* None whatever, my love, I assure you ; on the contrary, it is preciuely what I sliould like you to do." And so it was that on Mary's re-appearance, Blanche took her hand and drew her down to a seat beside her on the lounge. Nellie had gone to her own room to prepare for the approaching transfer. Briefly but perspicuously the lady told the story of her love, Desmond himself being a listener to the narration. Mi-s. Curtin said but little, although her eyes glistened with something suspiciously like tears, but when the recital was over she clasped Blanche in her arms and kissed her brow. Why it is that women thus manifest their sym- pathy is unknown to the chronicler ; such kisses, however, like the contact of two ants' antennae, always convey mutual intelligence, or indicate tender commiseration. " You see, dear Mrs. Curtin," continued Blanche, " I am now of age, mistress of myself, and also of certain funded property, — not very much, perhaps, but enough to ensure a comfortable subsistence. I left Holmwood only when his lordship began to insist that I should so far respect his author- ity as to allow another man to indulge certain anticipations. Then, after explaining the necessity to my mother, I l^t Holmwood, — not secretly altogether, but in the absence of my father and my brother. On such occasions, even now, men sometimes use force ; but a woman's weapon, dear friend, is her wit. I have tried to be brave, but I have judged it better not to trust to myself alone." " You have done right, my love," said Hugh, " and I am sure Mrs. Curtin will help you with her counsel until the day comes when you need apprehend nothing. You will see to all the arrangements, will you not, Mrs. Curtin 1 — I mean those for which a man is unqualified ; I myself will attend to every- thing else." " I thank you, my lady, for your confidence," said Mrs. Curtin to Blanv ;: 3 ; "I will do what I can to help you, and I think you will find Nellie very useful. She is quick to learn, and to do anything for you will be a pleasure to her." Before noon Lady Blanche was cornfortably established at her hotel. Almost her first task was to write to her parents, her brother, and Mrs. Champernowne, while to a few selecteil friv^nds in various parts of England she sent cards announcing her engagement to Hugh Desmond, Esq. Realizing his imme- diate duty, our hero set about procuring the marriage license, 11^ UPON THIS ROCK. 227 mtrary, ihe took r on the ) for the ftdy told jr to the ^er eyes vhen the id kissed leir sym- however, y mutual c, " I »"i in funded ensure a when his lis author- icipations. her, I left absence of even now, [ear friend, judged it said Mrs. I you, and I l;k to learn, and he wrote to Carrig Desmond requesting his cousin to l)e prepared to leave for London immediately after receiving a telegram summoning him thither. Having posted his letters at St. Martin's Le Grand, Hugh slowly proceeded home through Little Britain, Smithtield, and St. John's Street. Happening, at the opening of Duke Street into Smithfield, to look behind him he saw on the other side of the way two men, in one of whom, — although no longer disguised as a farmer, — lie thought he recognized Inspector Braithwaite, of Scotland Yard. Caring nothing for all the detectives in London, Hugh gave no further attention to them ; but in St. John's Street he again saw the men, and now the idea began to dawn on his mind that he himself was somehow the cause of their presence there. By way of putting this to the test, he made sundry stoppages and retrogressions, only to find the two men regulating their progress by his own. Hugh at once knew what this signified, and he smiled to himself at the thought. He continued up the street almost to within a stone's throw of Skinner and Gloucester Streets, when he suddenly changed his gait for a rapid walk, which in a few minutes brought hini to his own residence. As our hero anticipated, he had scarcely been seated when the first-floor bell was rung. In due time Mrs. Wyatt knocked at Hugh's door and, coming in, announced that two gentlemen were inquiring for him below. "Please ask if one is called Braithwaite, Mrs. Wyatt," said Hugh, " r#d if that is so, just ask them to come up and I will receive them " When this message was delivered to the callers below thty stared at one another in astonishment. '* Blow me ! " said the detective, " but this is what you may call clairvoyance ! Yes, ma'am, if you don't object, that is my name ; a pretty name, too, I think, regular old English, Saxon, you know. Yes, ma'am, Braithwaite, at your service." " Well, gentlemen, in that case, you are to walk upstairs, please, and you will find Mr. Desmond's door open before you." "Thank you, ma'am, thank you," said Braithwaite ; "your name is, I think, — not Spinks, eh ? No 1 " "Wyatt, if you please, sir," responded the landlady coldly, not appearing to admire the Bucket-like familiarity of this man, who was, despite his ^ood raiment, assuredly not a gentle^ii^D. tl !,: i H !!f !l Frf T » f 228 UPON THIS ROOK. " Wyatt ! why bless me, that is a good old English name, too. Sounds aristocratic, very. After you, sir," — and the Inspector yielded precedence to his companion. The door on the second floor stood invitingly open. "Come in, if you please," said our hero, just as the detec- tive was going to knock. " Ha ! Inspector firaithwaite ! " " Yes, sir ; how do you find yourself, Mr. Desmond ? J ust a word, if you will allow me, before talking business. How the devil — I ask pardon — did you know that I was going to call on you ? " " I have an acquaintance, Mr. Braithwaite," answered Hugh, "who writes detective stories and narratives of daring highwaymen for the * penny horribles,' as they are called. Well, I have heard him use the word * shadowed ' of a man being secretly followed by police spies. In St. John's Street I saw enough to convince me that you were ' shadowing ' somebody, and by a very simple expedient I discovered that it was myself." " Ah ! I see," said Braithwaite. " Wo do sometimes overdo it, that's a fact. Two of our best men were after a notorious smasher''' last week. They knew he was hiding somewhere around Drury Lane. One evening they were going down Great Wild Street, and from habit they tried some of the doors and padlocks of the closed places as they went along. The very man they were after was looking at them from a garret window, and when he saw them trying the doors he knew they were detectives. He escaped of course, and was aftewards taken by some yokel of a country policeman." " I presume you have not called to tell me this, Mr. Braith- waite," remarked Hugh. " You spoke of business. I hope I am not suspected of being a dynamiter or conspirator from America." " Why, no, not exactly that, young gentleman. The case is — so far as I can at present describe it — one of kidnapping, or rather of removing a young lady from the custody of her relatives." Hitherto the other man had not spoken, but he now inter- posed in a peculiar drawling tone. " Aw, — ye-es, — precisely ; and a very serious charge that is, of course." ■ . .-M HK I WW I ■ ' ■■ . - ■ I - .1-— .1.1 II ■! I !■■ -^^^M^M^— — ^^M^^i^^g^^M ■! ■ • A i-'Ouulerfeilor. «PON THIS ROCK. 229 froiu le case lof her inter- le tUat Desmond had seen this rather languid gentleman at Holm- wood. He was a second cousin, or something even more remote than that, of Jjady Blanche, his name and title being the Honourable George De Kenyon. Hugh now turned to this man and said, somewhat fiercely, for he was tired and annoyed : " And you, sir, are doubtless one of the secret police also, I suppose 1 " " By Gad ! no. A policeman ] No, I hope. I am a gentle- man, sir. My name is De Kenyon." " A gentleman keeps better company than that I see you in, sir," retorted our hero. *' Nc^citur a sociis, which I sup- pose you do not understand. Well, sir, it moans, in our homely phrase, that 'birds of a feather flock together.' What- ever your business with me may be, express yourself briefly, or in my present humour I may expedite your departure by throwing you down stairs." " Not quite so fast, my dear sir," said De Kenyon, — who was, afteB all, a gentleman, — *' I ought to apologise for the presence of the detective. From the first, I told my cousin Robert, — that is, Major, formerly Captain, Meadows, — that this was no matter for the police, but he thought difterently. He put the case in the hands of those Scothmd Yard people, and strangely enough we found your address attached to a deposition made but two days since." The speaker hereupon offered his card to our horo, who at once asked him to be seated. The detective, without waiting to be asked, took a chair and laid his hat and stick on the floor. " So far, Mr. De Kenyon," said Hugh, " J confess you mystify me. The detective alluded to the mysterious removal of a young lady from the control of her guardians, called it kidnapping, and you spoke of some serious charge. This de- tective Braithwaite is, I know — the very deposition you speak of might have shown you — a blundering fellow, so 1 attach no importance to anything he may say. Jiut from you I have the right to demand an explanation." " Wait a bit, my tine fellow ; wait a bit," muttered the Inspector. *' This 'ere gentleman's one of the upper ten, and you'll soon find which side is blundering." "Silence, policeman, if you cap," said De Kenyon angrily. " The fact is, Mr. Desmond, we must no longer play at cnm 230 UPON THIS ROOK. purposes like this. Allow me to ask you one question : Do you know where Lady Blanche Meadows is ? " " Why, yes, sir," returned Hugh, looking at his questioner with a smile, " I think I do. This ^afternoon she was, with her attendant, at the Norwood private hotel, in the Adelphi. She has apartments there, I believe. But I am anxious to know who has been kidnapped, and who is charged with the serious offence you spoke of." " I beg your pardon : the Norwood, Adelphi, I think you said 1 Ah, yes, I thank you," said De Kenyon. " I see ho^v it is, quite ; and the lady is of age ; yes. Mr. Desmond, I am obliged to you for the address, and I must again apologize to you for this intrusion." ''Just one moment, if you please, sir," said Braithwaite. " I think the Major commissioned you to make a certain pro- position.** " You are quite right, officer, quite right," said the other. " I protest it escaped me. Mr. Desmond, will you pardon the liberty if I request the favour of a few words ov%r by the window." Desmond gave a nod of acquiescence, and the two gentle- men moved to the window. " It is a delicate, an infernally delicate thing to have to do," said De Kenyon, who had lost much of his general lan- guor during the interview ; " but the fact is, Mr. Desmond, I can put ten thousand pounds to the right side of your bank account if, — if, — " " Spare yourself the ignoble duty which your friend has in)posed upon you, Mr. De Kenyon. I know what you would say, — if I will renounce his sister, Lady Blanche. However much he may love his sister, the honourable and gallant Major, — as they say in Parliament, — is willing to sacrifice ten thousand pounds, not to save the family honour, — for I am of as good stock as his own, — but to save the family pride. No more of this, Mr. De Kenyon, unless you would gratui- tously insult me in ray own apartment." " I have no desire to do so, I assure you," returned the other. " I have executed my mission fairly, according to promise." " You will find Lady Blanche at the house I have men- tioned," said Hugh, " if you wish to see her. T know she has already written to Lord and Lady Guisborough ; but if you mum tJPON THIS ROCK. ^31 has rottld revcr illsnt jrifice Hor I )ride. itui- the [ng to men- jlie b*s If yott have a message for her, why I think you had bettir take a cab there at once. At the same time, I must request you, aa a gentleman, not to take that police officer with you." " My dear sir," replied De Kenyon, " I have no business with or message for my cousin Blanche. Not for the world would I approach her as Bob's herald. She always made fun of me ; and I detest these clever women, blue-stock — I beg vour pardon ! — don't you know 't " V Desmond smiled at the honest signs of fear exhibited in Mr. De Kenyon's countenance. It was evident enough that he retained a wholesome remembrance of certain interviews with his cousin and of her satirical power ; indeed Mr. De Kenyon was often enough a butt for ladies' sarcasm. He had, at the suggestion of the Hon. Major Meadowy undertaken this embassy, in utter ignorance of Hugh Desmond, of whom he knew merely that the Major had termed nim a " snob." He was surprised to find that he had a gentleman to deal with, and it is but fair to add that having made the discovery he immediately recognized the absurdity of persisting any further in what our American cousins call the " bluflP game." " Well, Inspector," he said to the detective, " I have exe- cuted my commission. You see the lady is of age, free to go where she will ; and we have been foolish to have anything to do with the business. Mr. Desmond, allow me to bid you good evening." Mr. Braithwaite did not look particularly good-natured as they left the house, although it is not improbable that he was certain to be paid for his services in attending the Major's friend. The street lamps were lit, evening having fallen, and as the two men emerged into the street they encountered a nondescript sort of fellow who looked half sailor, half beggar. The man really seemed about to ask charity, when Mr. Braith* waite seized him by the shoulder and brought his face toward the light. " Now look here," he c jection as he pursued his way to Rosoman Street. Once he ^ iifl 232 UPON THIS ROCK. clenched his fist at a tliought which we may here express, but which he carefully kept to himself however-— "Aha! Mr. Hugh Desmond on good terms wid Scotland Yard and visited by detectives ! Well, we have got Martin Walsh in hidin' for the present ; but who cr»n say how long before this bloody informer will go back to the ould castle ? Faix, it was heaven's own providence that sent me to White- hall the night he arrived from Ireland, so that I saw huu enter the Yard in a coach. Begorra ! I must watch tro gossoon pretty closely ; and to think that Father Lawrence had no suspicion at all, at all ! " Had Lieutenant Wallace chanced to be in Clerkenwell inst/Cad of down in Torma/y, and hs^d he met this wayfarer in Bosoman Street, it is well-i '^h tain that his excellent memory for faces would have enabled him to recognize, in spite of his aisguise, the fj^-ti^'e eyes and strongly-marked lineaments of Pat Shine, of lr*ni3\. "ra. CHAPTER XXVL WHEREIN THE CHAPLAIN TAKES THE H£L1I. THE announcement by Blanche Meadows of her appaoach- ing marriage was made at the very zenith of the part- ridge shooting. The Earl of Guisborough, his son, the Hon. Major Meadows, and the chaplain were, a few mornings after the occurrences narrated in the previous chapter^ engaged in the library at Holm wood in discussing what steps should be taken with a view to averting, if possible, the conclusion upon which this headstr^i^g maiden seemed at present so resolved. " There," said the Major, " you have heard what De Kenyon writes. The adventurer is, it seems, a very Quixotic fellow, — not over wise, perhaps, to refuse ten thousand pounds. There is a story going the rounds at Brook's and the Army and Navy that this knight of the rueful countenance horsewhipped an Irish gentleman the other day. I'll tell you what, you must try some other dodge, you know. Go at him impressively, with rank, religion, station in life, and all that^ you knor/- If that should fail, why then let him and Blanche go U.\ the devil together." It is his .M UPOX THIS ROOK. * "Something like tl.,« • t ., • ^'"'^ '•"Pliod the Earl : V^Z wUI°° f ""'' "?« '■"' -«»0"oe we l.ave " ~etr^ ^-. no HouU,. .M the Majo, ..fau, , ^'.e ohap,,,„'';tu\:h'J'reeX^ r;"^""''' "^^ »'S^^^^^ be ^too^sanguine, '"'''""•>' «<> "dviso his patron not to weak: : r:-"P<'n ^ady BlHnrel'S^-:!."i!:'i'. P^'-"" P'- aurp nf^r.. "'^ " "''nn your Dowor t * — ---^^'viseu as 1 ''/°'?''"f e.-upon Lady BlaucCl;r "'*'*" P^'enwlp'-es- weakening ^er infatuation fo! H ^^""'^ "" f-x-''^ it appear! «««/<;,- ,« „,o,/o, and ° t f^' " '"""■ I"" "S now try the do^ot admit of the/";:' •tr.?^^ ■•-""^ b-ause th'/^mo: ^::r'^(o!;i::;;;::::TV{^-"^"^^ -nmi treatment ^•«^^n up, the reve.Jfd^"''^„'l^"«««^^r ladyship. On beino -I am authorized " ho m r*°^ ins reverence here induced t/^"'*^'"^' ^ '"^^ 4 ' '»"«^.-". Which Mr. auid;«^;;r-- :-^^^^^ ..J-: 234 UPON THIS ROCK. also invited," and lie bowred to our hero, who returned the courtesy. " If there be anything more you would like to add, sir," said Lady Blanche, " please announce it now without reserve." " There is nothing more, Lady Blanche, except that I may venture to express the hope that the conference will result satisfactorily to — to his lordship, — whose parental prerogatives we must all consider, — and also to your ladyship's ultimate happiness. " " Just a word, if you please, Mr. Nevins," said Desmond. "If I understand you, the invitation to myself has been posted- ** It was, sir, last night," observed the priest. " So that," continued our hero, " it is now, in all probability, at my lodging. Permit me to say that I will not fail to be present." " Yet," said Blanche, " unless I am strangely forgetful, it seems to me that Mr. Nevijis has omitted some few particulars of time and place. Did you specify these ? I thinK not." " Really, upon my word, I forgot ; and I beg your lady- ship's pardon. Tiie mistake arose from my having specified the time and place in the note sent to Mr. Desmond. Pardon me, — the place is his lordship's house in town, the time two in the afternoon. I would like to be in a position to announce to the Earl that your ladyship will lie present." I will be present, ' she said ; " but as you appear to have ma'^.aged this matter, at least in a great measure, your- sell " " ^B.y, my lady, not quite so, I assure you : his lordship and Major Meadows have authorized me to act in the case." " Precisely, I understand," she answered, " because papa knows how futile it would be to look to Robert for a sugges- tion of any kind outside the covers or the stable. He has had to rely on you, and you have done your duty. But I was about to ask if mamma, — if Lady Guisborough is in town." "Her ladyship is at Holmwood," said the chaplain, "she cannot be present." After the departure of this sacerdotal plenipotentiary, Desmond looked somewhat grave. " My love," he said, as Blanche turned her eyes toward him, and placed her hand in his, " I am afraid that you will have a trying ordeal befort^ you to-morrow. I fancy they will make it aa theatricailv UPON THIS ROCK. li'M papa lugges- lashad ]l wa» rn." "Bhe vtiary, kid, as iand in before iuipresaive as they possibly can make it ; you will 1)3 tried froru every standpoint ; and even, — which I do not for a moment doubt, — though they fail either to cajole or to frighten you, they may make sad havoc with your nerves. Do you think yourself quite strong enough for such a trial ? Remem- ber, Mrs. Curtin will not be there ; — you will be without an ally." "But you will be there, dearest," she replied, with a glance of unutterable love and confidence, " and I shall not be afraid. It is their last effort, and doubtless they will make it as effec- tive as possible. The presence of Seldon, the Archbishop's secretary, made me surmise that poor papa will bring ecclesi- astioal influence to bear. For myself, I can laugh at all such, — but how is it with you, dearest? Are you sure that your mind is free, that you can regard all these things with indif- ference 1 Pardon the question ! but oh, Hugh, you have been, you have told me, so fierce a zealot for this Church ! Are you free? " Free and disenthralled, my love, completely so," he said. " I will not say that I am, at present, happier for the new light that has risen on my mind ; but I am free." " In time peace of mind will be attained," she observed, " for how can it be otherwise when we follow Truth ? How- ever, our friends there are beginning to yawn with ennui, let us join them." William Curtin and his wife were seated on a lounge near the door, while Nellie was working diligently with her needle at some mysterious production of the art sutural. " I have been saying," said the reporter, when Blanche and her lover approached, " that both Father Seldon and Father Nevins were apparently astonished to find nie here. You will find that I shall be asked to the Archbishop's house before this day is over. Nothing of the most trifiing nature escapes him ; he is a great man." " Not so great as he would have seemed three or four cen- turies ago, my friend," said Desmond, knowing well to whom Curtin alluded. " In our day almost every parsonage in the country has his equal in learning, and his well-known genius for intrigue can find but^ poor field for its exercise in a country where only the most despicable statesmen would seek to enlist the Papacy on their side as an instrument in the game of politics.' . W »M 2nr. trrOV THIS ROCK, liJ Miil! The reporter's conjecture was in some measure verified, for, in the afternoon, when Curtin was enjjjaged in the otfice of ihis principal, at the coiner of Catherine Street, the Rev. ' Father Seldon dropped in, ostensibly to see Mr. Walters. After a few minutes of general conversation with the latter, the priest said : "By-the-bye ; could I see you for a few minutes alone, Mr. Curtin ? Not," — he remarked deprecatingly to the principal, who looked surprised, — " not on any professional business, Mr. Walters, but there are a few small personal trifles that 1 think your assistant can help me in." William Curtin, — craftier for his friend's sake than he would have been for his own, — wore an expression of expect- ant surprise as he led the way into an inner room. " I will not detain you long, Mr. Curtin," said the secretary, taking the chair offered him. " The fact is, I was very much astonished to find you at that hotel in the Adelphi this morn- ing, very much so. May I ask if you were there in a pro- fessional capacity? or do yon know the young man who — who — this Mr. Desmond, in fact ? " "Know him, Father Seldon ? why of course I do. He is the critic and reviewer of the Herald, and he lodges in the same street with me." " Oh, indeed ! I did not know that," said the priest. "Was it he who wrote that notice of Dr. Wordsworth of Lincoln's Latin verses to the * Old Catholics,' and who made so much fun out of the idea of an elderly Protestant gentleman of the schoolmaster type speaking of his duties at Lincoln as officii Pontijicalis onus ? " "Yes, Father Seldon, that was Mr. Desmond's work. The Taintors think very highly of him." " No doubt ; I am glad to hear it, Mr. Curtin ; he IS certainly an able writer ; but what do you think of the lady — a, what's her name ? " " The lady upon whom you called to-day ? " asked Curtin innocently ; " why, then, your reverence, she is, if I may say SO, a grand lady,, and T should not be surprised if Mr. Desmond fell head over ears in love with her yet. Her name is Mea- dows, I think, but your reverence already knows her. I suppose she is wealthy, Father ; so if Mr. Desmond is lucky tfhere he need only write for pleasure," and the reporter lauglied." 7 k 1 UPON TllilS ROCft. 237 The priest, somewhat hastily concluding that William Curtin knew nothing of Desmond's affairs and that, therefore, it was no use to " pump " him any farther, said : "Yes, Mr. Curtin, she is, I think, fairly well to do in the world. Ah, well ! I am glad to hear this account of the young man : it is encouraging to know that the Catholic press of London possesses such religious and talented writers. Permit me to congratulate you on the extremely faithful report of the Archbishop's address at the Tower Hill meeting. It was a grand, an affecting demonstration." William Curtin did not give expression to the idea suggested by Father Scldon's remark respecting the talent employed on the Catholic press ; but he could not avoid wondering within himself why it was tliat the ablest, most profound and most theolosrical leader-writers and reviewers in London, many of whom he had seen and heard in the Temple Forum and else- where, — sometimes indeed in a state of Thracian happiness,* — were, almost without exception, so remarkably, so ostenta- tiously irreligious. That evening, as they leisurely strolled through the Temple Gardens on their way to Clerkenwell, the reporter told Des- mond of the interview. " What puzzles me entirely," said William, " is that Father Nevins should have brought the Archbishop's secretary with him to-day on an errand which I consider a delicate private aliair. You may depend upon it that the Archbishop will do wjiat he can to influence either you or Lady Blanche." " I should certainly have thought that the Earl was too proud a man to appeal to the clergy for assistance in such a case," replied Hu<:;h, "but when the false pride of prejudice is liiroused it sometimes obscures manly feeling and generous promptings. I have, I think, aristocratical leanings in so far as I have always associated aristocracy with high principle, integrity, and a detestation of what is mean, sordid, or base. I confess, now that T find an English nobleman relying on a priest to influence his daughter's freedom of action, and that nobleman's son and heir condescending to offer a bribe and to anticipate tliat it may be accepted, at the sacriflce of his sister's purest, finest afl'ections, — aye, and perhaps the wrecking t This is delicate ftround, respected reader, for your Icniqrhts of Grub Street are venprpful and potent withal. Therefore, as the prp»ac orator Bald «f N'ei-reb, Sileatur de nocturuis etfus bacchattonibus ao vigUiis. 1r! _ -M fi 238 OPOM THIS ROCK. of her life, for such steadfast natures are permanently injured by deception, — I am almost inclined to turn Radical." " Or, at any rate," said William, " to read with satisfaction those articles in the E vetting Journal* in which * NobUsse Oblige* shows us what our modern aristocracy is made of." " Curtin," said Hugh, " here comes the very man that was arrested as a dynamiter. Why, Mr. Wiltshire ! I am really glad to see you. My friend Mr. Curtin — Mr. Wiltshire." " How do you do, sir ? " said Wiltshire to Curtin. " As for you, Mr. Desmond, well I am half inclined to pick a quarrel with you. Why, man, do you know that you never told nie where you live, and I have been hunting all over London to find you ? Only to-day I met Macmurdoch, the music-hall idol, — happened to speak of my arrest, — mentioned your name as that of a friend in need, found out all about you, and wa a just going to Qloucester Street. Ha ! there is Chancery Laue. Shall we drop in at the Mitre?" They did as Wiltshire suggested, — indeed, such suggestions are almost invariably acted upon all over the civilized world. Wiltshire was in high good humour. " You will be surprised to hear," he said, " that I have been taken on the staff of the Sun. I met Liacy, the journalist, the other day. He writes for Punchy and is also on the Sun. ' Hallo ! Wiltshire,' ho cried ; ' why, I thought you were dead long ago.' • No,' said I, • not quite so bad, old fellow ; only banished.' ' Banished 1 ' says he, * why, where have you been all this time ? ' I said in America, trying to : jake a fortune as a litterateur. * God help you ! ' said Lacy, ' did the Yan- kees know you were poor 1 ' Of course, I said, there was no disguising the fact among a set of fellows who squandered money like princes, and who talked only of dollars and of such indulgences as dollars could procure. ' God bless myj soul ! * says Lacy, 'whatever prompted you to leave England! Had you been famous here before you left, whether as poet, philosopher, novelist, dramatist, sword-swallower, or aris cratic libertine, all America would have welcomed you, an petted you, and some millionaire would have given you hifl true ; but daughter to wife. But perhaps you have made your fortune^ TValsh ca Wilt v»ilu< file I nssu( ^oulo noblej one se ii.id I , couJd i Cu lio fuij howei might posed. "Th< you Weil centuate this phi "^ seenjs ihouJd er« "V- Charlie 1 ' he asked. I told him, if so, it was but a ragge * The English reader, who knows London, will understand the allusioi and will parduii toe. aurictpntion in nolntof date. The chronicler is indebt to " Noblease Oblige" for the removal of some illusiuns. [man of a pn^ers. I* v'iiainoi pe that y injured tisfaction Nobltsse ie of." that was am really lire." " As for a quarrel If told nie liondon to music-hall pur name and waa !ery Lane. uggestions zed world. have been journalist, Q the Sun. were dead Uow ; only •e you been e a fortune I the yan- lere was no squandered lars and of d bless my 9 England t ler as poet, , or aris )d you, an ^en you h our fortunej at a ragg l^PON THIS ROCK. one, I waa afraid. Well fh. i ^"^^ ^'^y got me on the W '?"«^ *"*^ *he short of ft U *. Pmch myself J»« i * ** dramatic crifin a ^' ^'•'*' «h're '' .a.- ' ^4o„d '^ t'h^^"' «^^ '^^^^^e, Mr Wilt &oL :^^ f ^^^^^^^^ -e -n «''e United States fhA ^^^^''^tification of vuL^ T^ ^^ I'o fuily unde^t,^ w .at^w^if "t» '"'>>' « »ay « to show t. . '■""ever, •pprehend.Cth.f *'">'*"<'«' to convey h-k' " The trnf k u national men, inter- rou wte'^^otu'eTet^i^'l"-^ Wiltshire," he said nh . centuated the fact thlf America mainly beca"-. ' ^^""^ *n Of rblVr "'"■ - ^teS"'n' *"" '""^« «»««". iJll^r^J* '".^ '>PP««™nce ,„"„- l°J^" "Oticed . b t: W"" ?rrjs «-£.* .^ -p.Tw^, f :!' 1^^ f ' 240 UPON THIS BOCK. This extraordinary conclusion of his discourse was 6cca- sioned by the somewhat erratic conduct of one of the match- vendors who abound in the more frequented streets of London. The fellow, who was apparently well advanced in years, was pressing ap close behind the trio as they walked swiftly toward Holborn, and Wiltshire, — who was by no means a dreamer, but who had eyes for all around him, — thought the fellow's conduct looked suspicious, as indeed it did. " What the devil do you want 1 " he asked, suddenly turn- ing and confronting the man, who slunk back as though expecting a blow. '' Lights, gentlemen, lights ! " lie whined in a husky voice ; " lights, two for a penny ! " "No," said the other, " and be off with you, or you may be taken for a pickpocket." The match-vendor hurried off in the opposite direction and was soon lost to view. "Singular," said Desmond, as they resumed their walk, " but it seems to me that I have seen that man before, in some other guise than that." *^ By Jove ! " exclaimed Wiltshire, "you may be right, for hang me if it's not the very fellow that I saw talkiug in Queenstown with Walsh. He is some kind of a police spy, depend upon it ; but no, scarcely in such a disguise ; they are not sharp enough for that. Pshaw ! let him go to the devil ; you may be sure I shall never be arrested lor Walsh the dynamiter again." They had by tliis time arrived opposite Gray's Inn Lane, where Mr. Wiltshire was to take an omnibus. Before tliey separated, he assured Hugh that he intended to call on him soon, and he gave our hero a cordial invitation to spend as much time as he could spare in the little '' tage at Wanstead. Mrs. Wyatt was removing the tea-trr .iter on that even- ing when she was summoned downstain ty a second-floor bell, and soon after a card was presented to our hero on which was inscribed the name, "W. Gordon-Garden." Having been shown up, it appeared that the owner of tliis compound appel- lation was a rather diguifled-looking, middle-aged man." " Thank you, sir ! " he said, as Hugh offered him a chair ; " T will not detiiii you long. Permit me to apologize for this method of introduction. I know Mr. Flowers, of Holmwood Hall, quito well ; iu fact, I assis.ed him in the compilation of m CPON THIS ROOK. 241 icca- ,tch- don. was ivard .mer, low's turn- lough ;oice ; aaylae m ftnd walk, ore, in ^ht, for kiug in ce spy, hey a«'e devil ; Ish the a Lane, re they on him lend as .nstead. ,t even- tor bell, lich was jg been Id appei- chair ; , for this Llnawood Batiou oi that laborious but heglected work, ' The History of the Trae- tarian movement' Well, sir, I myself am, < — ahem ! — a literary man, an author in some sort, my immediate work being a classified list of converts to Rome. I have already more than three thousand names oi^ Protestants who have been recently converted, — of course with such details and minutiae as I h|tve been able, with the permission of the persons mentioned, to collect. I have learned from Mr. Flowers that you, sir, aro also a convert, — from Anglicanism I think ? ah, yes, precisely, — and I shall have great pleasure in adding your name to the List. I should say that the book will be a royal sextodecimo, bound in cloth and richly gilt." Desmond could scarcely suppress a smile at the idea of bo extraordinary a work being prepared. " I assure you, Mr. Gordon-Garden," he said, " that I have no desire to figure in your book. Circumstances indeed have rendered it — pshaw ! why should I conceal it 1 — the truth is, sir, I am a Catholic no longer." " Indeed, Mr. Desmond, that makes no difference, I assure you, my object being to— — ." *' Yes, yes, my dear sir, I quite understand," said Hugh, " your only care is to swell your list ; the after-fate of your converts being no concern of yours. Well, sir, I request you to make no mention of me in your book. I am not a Catholic, indeed not a Christian at all." "Pardon me, Mr. Desmond," returned the other, "bat I would suggest that having once been baptised you are a Christian, aye, even in spite of yourself. But may I ask, before I go, what you call yourself now, sir, if not a Christian 1 Surely, not an Atheist, Mr. Desmond I " " Not an Atheist in the ordinary sense of the word, ray good sir," replied our hero, "for I hold it impossible to alfirm the non-existence of a Supreme Being. Let me say, however, that despite the limitations of my nature, my religion is yet as high as the universe." *' Yes, I see, you are a Pantheist," said the other compla- cently, " but you will come back, sir, you will come back, Good evening, Mr. Desmond," and he left the room. Strangely enough, in the first edition of the classified List our hero's name appeared as a convert to Romanism, among nearly four thousand other names. The reviewers termed i^ a "significant compilation" — siguifican^ o{ what! 16 i 11 K I'; ;- 242 UPON THIS BOCK. CHAPTER XXVII. I i! I WHEREIN OUR HERO WIELDS A POKEB. A S he entered the hall of the Elarl of Guisborough's mansion jr\ on the day appointed for the conference, a flood of recollections rushed over Desmond's brain. All that had transpired since his foot first crossed the threshold of this lordly house, — the events and experiences that had, as it were, prematurely virified* him, — came to his memory like a flash. There was the portrait of the ruddy-faced Colonel Meadows still staring and frowning, looking very much as though too long indulgence in the custom of drinking healths " over the water," coupled with a series of political disappointments, had induced hypochondria and hepatic disease. Instead of the respectable undertaker-like domestic who, as the patient reader will doubtless not have forgotten, acted as usher when first Hugh Desmond stood within this hall, there were now, however, two gorgeous flunkeys, one of whom conducted him into a magnificently-furnished drawing-room. As the door was thrown open, Hugh discovered that nothing had been neglected in the effort to produce a striking and formidable effect upon his mind. Let the psychologists explain it if they are able, but our hero knew instinctively tiiat all this display of rank, wealth and power was intended for him alone. Father Nevins was standing close to the door, and he it was who directed Desmond to a chair. Hugh's bow upon entering included the whole of those who were present in its almo.st Castilian sweep, but his eyes rested for a moment upon Lady Blanche, who was sitting beside her brother and Father Scl- don, with Mr. De Kenyon standing in the rear vigorously polishing his eye-glass, presumably with the laudable intention of staring our hero out of countenance. Hugh had seated himself on a sort of semi-developed chair, complete as to legs, body and cushion, but destitute of a back, that stood beside an ornate fire-place, or old-fashioned hearth, whose beauty arrested the young man's attention. Upon two pillars and pilasters of white marble stood a finely-carved chimney-piece of the same material, the whole being the work 'of the most celebrated sculptor of the Georgian era. The * Honoured readur, for want of a HtHtuble term in this P^nglish toiiKii>' <'^ ours, the chronicler umketh " vlritled "' from " vir " Uli'rr hero, a uiun. ) ir tPON THIS itonit. M insion )od of t had )f this t were, I flash. eadows ,gh too i^er the \ts, had of the patient pr when »re now, ;ted him :he door lad been rmidable Lt if tliey s disphiy II alone. \e it wiiS enterin^i; almost on Lady ther Scl- igorously lintention Led chair, bf a back, |d hearth, Ijpon two My-carved the work era. The do|^s or ahdirons on tlie hearth were of Italian workmanship, while the polished steel appurtenances shone like burnished silver. Having rapidly surveyed the room, which was certainly the finest he had ever seen, Desmond turned his attention to its occupants, who were all arranged in grand session before him. By far the most prominent of these was an elderly ecclesiastic, whose apparel would have indicated his position or station in the Church, even though his features had not been as widely recognizable as those of Queen Victoria her- elf. It was, indeed, the whilome Archdeacon of the Church of England, who by virtue of having disregarded his sworn declaration "that no foreign Prince, Person, Prelate, State or Potentate hath, or ought to have, any jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre-eminence or authority, ecclesiastical or spirit- ual, within this realm," had now become one of the most trusted, as he was one of the most astute officers of the Church of Rome, and director and agent-in-chief of the new Papal aggression in England. This was he to whose " mind and will," * conjoined with those of the Jesuits, the world was in 1870 mainly indebted for the successful promotion of the dogma of Papal Infallibility. This was he who in 1851 joined the ranks of those seceders f lom the English Church, that Church whose " breasts have, for thirty years, been pierced mainly by the children whom they liad fed,"t and who had since then had his ambition },M-atiHed by the attainment of a dignity in the alien commu- nion higher by far than he would probably have reached had he remained faithful to Anglicanism. Tliose who knew him well, — and these were few, mainly among his quondam " chums " at sc'iool or comrades at the I'niversity, — divined that his nature was not one to be con- tent even with the honours already attained ; beyond the pal- lium was the scarlet hat, beyond that hat the tiara. In per- son he was rather under the middle height, but his extreme iiie?igreness of flesh, not to say positive emaciation, rendered this less evident. Assuredly he was one whose physique would have prompted any modem Cwsar to exclaim, ' Would he were fatter ! " Among Roman Catholics it wa«: popularly re- ported that the Archbishop's abstemiousness amounted to • Vide Pooiponio lieto. " VAght Months at Rome." July, II.. 4th Seesion. )\V. E. Olailstono, " Vnticanlsm," Intrfxltiction. Th«» cnmpliiint is such as ti loyal, lovin^r son of that Church would niiturally uUcr. :i = '^ "'« theories of^nM^'""- "*««■'*»». «'ethe„ f '! "?''«'"»«on, ""y, "ud „ forth tL? '' "«''*»'-li'>e«y ^ Jf/ ! '""■'- "Pon earth (Jw ' „ T " only one socieYi '""'''y' fr«ter- '"% deveWrf ™j "''^"y be tn„t,j '^'^ or organization '""Wination at a*low^r ""^ P^-r^pZl? T" '" ™""" Churoh. I »i^ !"*"'•? »oope in action ffif • .. " ^"""ed »''<»« eternai^T; "' ^ *'" «k the two v!^^ P""^" '» not forUd I) nr^.T '•-"» one ere ,1,! "! t *" "° ^"''ious, Z.«„T :!;*'«? ."o-W not, a, he Ct W ''""°"' *'"' "on- «"» of hi. ;Lrt'^^«^'*«nd HiminishVetf ''"'ghty but present, diatiCti. ^''*'*fore, I must ,■„ Vl **""'' Posi- il. 246 tjpont Tttta HOOK. Here the Hon. Robert Meadows interpoc^ed, taking advan- tage of a pause in the archiepiscopal app^l. "Never be retraced," he aaid ; " my siater would find her family wholly estranged. The young man is, I am led to un- derstand, actuated by honourable sentiments, and he has ability which will ensure his success in life, if he prove himself a wise man. An alliance with our fomily would not benefit him, — quite the contrary. I tell you what, sir," — and he strode forward to within a few feet of our hero, who regarded him with tranquil interest, — " I advise you to be careful ; the proposition I made I will repeat ; remember that it places within your grasp in one day such a fortune as few can accu- nmlate after many years, scores of years, of toil and anxiety. It will open the world to you. What do you say to it? " and the Major pulled his long moustache. " What do I say to it ? " repeated Desmond disdainfully. " Merely this : that it could not have originated in the mind of an honourable man, a true gentleman ; and therefore I am willing to believe that Major Meadows unthinkingly adopts proposals or schemes as they are suggested to him by advisers whose ideas with regard to human nature are based apparently on its assumed total depravity. Your proposition, sir, is a disgraceful one unworthy of one who wears his monarch's uni- form. I claim the righ^ gentlemen," — ^and Hugh's voice now sounded like a bell throughout the apartment, — " since I come here by special invitation, to be treated with courtesy and as a gentleman. If this right be found too difficult to be con- ceded by anyone present, I shall consider it due to myself to withdraw. Perhaps, Major Meadows, you will also see the propriety of resuming your seat. At present you stand uncom- fortably near me, much as though you would, as a final resort, try a little physical force to coerce." While thus addressing the Hon. Robert Meadows, Hugh Desmond rose from his chair. He stood quite two inches taller than the Major, and it was evident to even the most cursory observer that the body of the younger man was as light and supple as steel. In a hand-to-hand contention, *Des- mond would have proved an antagonist such as those wonder- ful Indians of Fenimore Cooper's delightful " Leather-stock- ing " romances were wont to prove. Whether or not the Major had intended to try the effect of a little browbeating, — your militaires will hector now and then, — cannot be known ; Ar At gen as 8 ofh aCa urge of on f*me( weal JJi th« coJoui contei Letth "^iW Ufl toreas< Hug stood a "Loi '»'e]], an do not, diploma men. J I decJan posed in s^'ouid at -^*» '7ith f>ut JittJe '"'^n only Here t\ , "If the oeen build P«rmi8gion '«How turn ^Pd'Jf THIS ROCK. •t any rate an W., u » "*' as snow Tnl ?°^^-"nimed eyeilasspV?^ corpulent, elderly of 1.1^;:'^^'^-^ and too/t^JTorg"^^^^^^ "Mr. Desmond"! -. « "^*" « hand m both f«med incur annljaf^T* '"«P«^*«d ^mits Inf ^^^^ ^e all aoIrn«J) J '-"^^ ** "sue here v""'^^'— of a house ^ell, and vou an-ol *^ Desmond. "dnuKfi »'en. SJ^^'"'' "»' <">« for the iU!V'™^« »' '"uch posed in mp K, , . / ^®"^d never reJinn,/ ..r^^'"^ood ««re the Archbishn.' ^^ '"''^ . " « the gentTeman ^^heS"*^^^'"*^"- Hu.h I^S^^ r^i^^'^n'ir:^^ "l.a« II Jff H j.: u 348 UPON THIS BOCK. made the sycophant bow of his tribe, — " I will read a telegram received this morning from Ireland, from the very place where this young man's hopes have probably been centred. Here it is : ' Inniscarra, Co. Carlow. — In reply j would say have re- solved to make different testamentary dispositions. The young man is an enemy to Ireland. M. 0*R. D.' Here is the telegram, — Mr. Desmond is at libarty to examine it" Without a word, although his face was flushing, — aa omin ous sign in men of his temperament, who do not grow pale when roused, — Hugh Desmond stepped forward and examined the paper. It was perfectly correct, to doubt its authenticity was impossible. '* Thank you ! " he said, and was retiring to his chair when his eyes met those of his betrothed. In a moment, Blanche had risen from her seat, and the two stood together almost in the middle of the room. Linking her arm to that of Des- mond, Blanche exclaimed in a defiant voice, but with her tones rendered almost husky with angry excitement : " This farce shall last no longer ! You have brought here these statesmen, churchmen, and all the others to witness your own discomfiture. For you, Robert, I have felt surprise that you should think your sister worth all this trouble ; but other hands have pulled the strings. My father knows that Mr. Desmond has spoken the truth. I gave my love,^ — I am not ashamed to confess it, — unasked, and where I have placed it there it shall remain, though dny father — " "Hush, hush ! my child," said the Archbishop, "remember what you owe to — " '< Pshaw ! old man," said Blanche contemptuously, " spare your platitudes and chicanery for those who believe in them. I do not. We are, — Hugh Desmond and I, — something different from submissive superstitionists." The prelate almost leaped to his feet in angry astonishment at this outburst, while his eyes fairly gleamed with commotion. The Earl of Guisborough also arose, looking very pale, while Desmond, turning toward him, said : " Lord Guisborough, you believe in God : well, ask yourself whether or not He has given me your daughter. That some malevolent impulse has come between me and my cousin in Ireland is evident, — I hoj>e that you, air, have a clear con- science in this respect. Blanche Meadows did not love me because of my expectations, and she will not care because a Ji. \r t^J'oir THIS nocK. trembling ^"J 3'^'' *" '«»'« the house r " . • , ., Mr. DeKen assistance;' Kenyon couW *"^««'«d the bright if^f'"?^ ^'''^^ ''"«»'«ci «U6h an ?„i ""^^ ^'^^ bell. wIth f f F""^^' ^""'^ore De circlwl R/ ?^/^ retreated, so thaf ^ . '*"^''>^ "i**", Be shouted Huith *^v^ ''^^r ^^« life attemnt ,n ?' ' ^"^^• »11 know ^«WT ^^ ^'^^ I'as the least r;!k*V °, ^^°P "s ! " poker LZu u ^•P* ^ide by msr>TT ^,f ^««" »« and servants to oDen^l J ""* "P bravely ev„„ J ■ " '*-^ ">« cabman oCdl''r '" '*«> ^^^bTt.T'^'"V "■« Ziy - <» the itru„"j„'' Ve't^ "^'ve, ..g„ ^ ,,,, H«Wng f«e]y h..h^ . «"* """y from here at . ' ' maiden, " And now, m/lol A^^" ""' «''<' ' '"""''here IS no one to i! T ^^|i ftl 260 trON THIS ROCtC. m 4 come between us; for whatever Destiny may have in store, whetlier of good or of evil, we sliall share it together. Are you content 1 " " Whither thou goest I will go, nothing but death shall part thee and me." This was her answer, almost in the words of the Hebrew virgin of old. Desmond pressed his lips to the marble forehead, and his grasp tightened spasmodically at the thought that men had so recently been plotting to put . them asunder. Arrived at the Norwood, he conducted her carefully up the staircase, for indeed she was almost incapable of exertion. Mrs. Curtin and Nellie were present to receive them, and to their hands and solicitude our hero consigned his treasure. Upon leaving the hotel, Hugh heard the outer door swing when he was quite half-a-dozen yards up the street. Hearing a light footstep at the same time, and imagining that Nellie might have followed with a message, he turned around and found himself face to face with the Hon. and Rev. Richmond Kirke. '* How do you do, sir 1 " said that gentleman ; " I saw you escorting a lady up the stairs. I hope there was no accident. You see, many clergymen from the country stop at the Nor- wood while in town, and I have been executing a commission to one such from a mutual friend down in Essex." " The lady had fainted shortly before, Mr. Kirke," answered Hugh, hoping that the clergyman would be in a hurry to catch a train, as our hero was in no mood for conversation. But evidently Mr. Kirke was for the present superior to Time, for he kept pace with Desmond's lingering footsteps. " Was the lady a relative of yours, Mr. Desmond ? " asked the little man, full of interest. "No relative, Mr. Kirke," said Hugh, adding, however, with a smile, ** but I hope she will soon be a connection. She is my promised wife, my dear sir," he said, speaking this time with a purpose. «* Well, I declare ! " said Mr. Kirke, " this will be news for the Toynbees, who are always talking about you and wonder- ing that you keep away so long. Well, I never ! quite a co- incidence. I declare I should like to tell Griffiths about this adventure." " Griffiths 1 " inquired Hugh, struck with the name, " is your friend called Griffiths, eh ? " UPON TH18 ROCK. . " The Rev. ttivhard Lewis f V.ffi*^ ^'' ' Norwood, and will proUbTy stt Jh ''~^''' *''•' '^^ « '^^ ^h, IhanJc you Mr K"' Ir P'uw I think I kuow Mr' Z^mJ'u'''", '*''' J^esn.ond " h„ i4i CHAPTER XXVIII AndyoufoundIw».h« u ° encounter in the ™n ■ l>epe„d upon it, Ch tlt^ accidentally meeting M^Kirkr; oUhe higher knowledge of the truVh ? °^ ^° *'^« direction I>e8mond rather dreaded an . ""^ '^ '^ »" J^sus." ^hjlome teacher and pa^r^ » theological di.scus.sion with his *uca a discourse -Jr^'Z^^'^^^rT '^ ^-^-- that ^ too likeli^ to pain and grieve \( U' 252 UPON THIS ROCK. the good man. Yet he saw clearly enough that the subject was unavoidable, and it seemed to him that he wa« only be- ginning to realize how intimately a man's position among his fellow-nicn depended upon and was affected by his opinions religious and theological, and perhaps political. He had not yet learned, — possibly he might never intimately understand, — that every generation of men has its condemned and dis- honoured Christ-pioneers, toiling with bleeding feet along the heights where in the future the whole race shall march in joy and gladness of heart along the broad road of progress. Gentle reader, I, the humble recorder of this life-story, have some / little knowledge of this Via Dolorosa, and now that the end of my journey is drawing near, and the awful mist into which I must shortly vanish can be discerned rising from the bosom of the dark ocean of Eternity, I sometimes find myself looking back upon the rough road I ha-ve travelled in dubious wonder whether or not the marks of my painful progress, — the crimson wound-traces left on rock and gnarled root, will be noted by other wayfarers after the waters have closed above my head. The royal Preacher, " the son of David, King in Jerusalem," whose luxury and magniticence and encouragement of art and industry merely precipitated revolution and the disruption of the kingdom, truly declared that " There is no remembrance of former things ; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after." "The step I took, dear sir," answere-d Hugh, "was taken in obedience to the promptings of my conscience. Now that I have been able to study the inner life of Romanism the glamour has disappeared. Where I looked for certainty I have found uncertainty ; where I expected security I have found that there is no solid foundation." " I have long prayed that your eyes might thus be opened," said Mr. Griffiths ; " ' Look into the rock whence ye are hewn, and to the hole of the pit whence ye are digged/ that is, return to the bosom of the Church of England, which has never been an apostate to the faith, never a maker of new doctrines, never a discourager and concealer of the revealed will of God." While his old preceptor was speaking, the idea occurred to our hero that they were both, — each in himself, — representa- tive men. The tall form, scarcely bent even at the approach of sene(!titu(le, the long, high forehead slightly flatt«|ieil »,% ' U^ UPON THIS ROCK. 253 re are jf new lve»leod ! thp ist which ^and will lin." Liust al^o les, which Lny alieq jurisdiction, and secondly, the spirit of the age which is hostile to such claims and pretensions as those put forward by Rome." '• Very true ; quite so," said the clergyman, scarcely knowing to what proposition he was assenting ; " but, Hugh, I hope you will introduce me to Lady Blanche." " I have often spoken to her of you, Mr. Griffiths," said the young man, " and when she knows who you are she will be delighted." Hugh and his old preceptor dined at an Italian restaurant in the Strand, after which they strolled through the National (jrallery, where Mr. Griffiths duly went into raptures over the ({uaint old saints with their nimbi and long delicate fingers. Returning to the hotel, (»ur hero and the clergyman proce^ed towards the apartments of Lady Blanche. They were admitted hy Nellie Curtia, who contrived almost at one and the same time to dart a look of dist''ust and disparagement toward the parson and a glance of mischievous mystery upon Hugh Desmond. The room was lit by gas, and the lights of the' chandelier in the middle were turned down very low. Hugh at once approached Blanche and said : " My love, you have often heard me speak of Mr. Griffiths, to whom I owe it that I am not now a sailor in the merchant service. You have not forgotten the name, have you 1 " No, indeed," she replied, '* you have painted him to dis- tinctly and so lovingly that I almost seem to know him also. But what of Mr. Griffiths, dearest 7 He is not dead, I hope." " No, indeed, my love, not dead ; but be is here before you, nnd what is more he has been stopping at the Norwood about a week. Lady Blanche Meadows, my dear old friend the Rev. Richard Lewis Griffiths ; Mr. Griffiths, Lady Blanche Meadows." " I am afraid," said the clergyman, " that the picture Mr. Desmond seems to have painted was oif too flattei ing a nature to be considered a portrait. He was always, I remember, a little impetuous and inclined toward exaggeration." " Indeed," said Blanche, " bat are not such natures always tickle and changeable ? I hope Mr. Desmond ii not to unstable as he is impetuous," she added with a smile. "True love," observed Mr. Griffiths, "is never inconstant. You remember that elegairt fragment of Carew's t . ' 256 UPON THIS ROCK. •r-it ■■ " ' He fchafc loves a rosie cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires, — As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. ** ' But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thought and oclm desires. Hearts with equal love combin'd. Kindle never-dying fires ; Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.' t!*L I ae« you smile, Lady Blanche, at the idea of an old bachelor presuming to speak authoritatively on such a subject. Yet, as, a Christian minister, you know, it is a part of my duty to Qxhort those who come to the altar to interchange their vows. The greatest of all Christian ministers was himself a bachelor, yet the world owes to him the grandest portrayal of the duty of 1^ Christian husband to lay down, if necessary, his own life for the sake of his wife. Do you not remember the passage 1 the comparison with the Church has for all ages placed the Christian wi^e ubove all others. ' Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the Church and gave himself for it.' This sanctification of marriage was a part of the great Potency which I would call the Enthusiasm of Humanity, and which our J/)rd first proclaimed among men. Yet its origin was the same with " ram.;™',,»:,?»*» one fori" *'■' ~''*^ "' nieaJao ♦iL. "^ . » "^^^^ Blanche '«fK^ -j Darwin savs «.. -„ * universal eood ' y "" "® affirmed ^heceaseSstn,"llff^^'* '' «^*"'*cCto know'?? !'^**' " out Nat«^*k ^*^'® *'*»* ^e see ffoini. nZ. T *^«* <>«* of H'hich w« ^ ''^'^ ^^'•^^^y folL^ifr «fh? ^^«'7^^«'-« through. «"r »rrowrare S^ik^ ' ."«^'»' »h«re „„ ^„^ ! *''""«« 17 ""K". '""•'awcehMnotilthink, i » 1 5 lyr- m tJPON TfilS ROOK. banished God. It has wonderfully supplemented the teachihg of philosophy with respect to the littleness of man's anthrapo- morphic deities ; but it has both exalted God and.pivby making the latter and all the universe one with the former. But, Mr. Griffiths, we will be perfectly frank with you. Lady BIcknche and I have only recently entered upon » course of free investigation ; that we have cast away the old moorings we know ; but we cannot yet defiiutely point to the haven of conviction in which we shall ultimately anchor." " I see, I see," replied the clergyman, " the natural mental fleeing from the protest against superstition and credulity. Ali this is inevitable when one first awakens to the true charticter of many of the claims and dogmas of Rome. Please God, you will both come out from the ordeal as gold tried in the furnace. I will not forget to remember you at the Eucharist. " Blanche bowed her acknowledgments to the limple-bearted minister whose faith, — however uncertain its foundation to the eye of reason, — was so child-like .'»nche dexterously "■'■■'.ng very »y.terifu,Iy"' "^"^ ''* '<»"«' th«t Bla„cie*^« C^arf mtlle failtht: Come W ^ ^''^3«g-rooin at the cast/" captor, Mr. GnffifKo t ' ^®* ^^ »nake known mJ ij ' .?;^? :; li CHAPTER XXIX. LJ ^W^ on earth did t « j „rl ap your father f-iu S,?l *''•' "'*" *<« I Pick Wughf you have a r,»k* * , " '"® Squire. " W«ii '^ T* M utL t.r;„'„.X'r wL"tt '"""""^ an^i'thrnr? m m. ■ ■ i 260 UPON THIS ROCK. told me that your father had purchased four-sixteenths of a large new barque called after the British Queen. You cannot have forgotten that I inquired what difference there was between four-sixteenths and one-quarter, and you explained why it was that ship property was so distributed into shares. I went to Dundalk, found the ship, made myself known to my cousin, and we made up our minds to come upon you suddenly here in London, and astonish you very much indeed. We found your place in Gloucester Street this morning, but you were absent. The landlady, however, said we might find you a few doors higher up the street, and told us to ask for a Mr. Curtin. Well, we found Mr. Curtin, — and found him remark- ably indisposed to afford us any information other than that he knew you. At last I said, ' Good heavens ! man, do you take us for process-servers that you refuse to open that beauti- ful great big mouth of your own t ' To this he gave a Scotch- man's answer by asking if we had important business with Mr. Desmond. ' Look here, my friend,' I said, ' we are all Desmonds ; this is his father, and maybe you have heard of myself, Maurice Desmond of Carrig Desmond ? ' Faith, when he heard this, Mr. Curtin was civil enough to ask us upstairs, where he gave us a hint or two that induced us to think that instead of our surprising you the astonishmen^would have to be all on our side." " But Curtin brought you here, I am sure," said Hugh, " earlier in the afternoon. I mean you have been here before, to-day?" " Never before to-day," replied Maurice, wilfully misunder- standing the question ; '' but we spent a couple of hours here very agreeably this evening, before you came. I proposed, or suggested, to Lady Blanche that it was not too late to modify her plans for the future, if she thought me at all preferable to my cousin, but all to no purpose. Captain Desmond, you see how it is ; we are all here by a sort of destiny or preternatural impulse, just in time for the wedding, — even the minister has been provided." " By an impulse from within ourselves," said Hugh's parent, " since it seems that neither of us was to be invited." " Do not be unreasonable, father," observed our hero ; " your last letter, from Constantinople, stated that you were to call at Falmouth for orders, apq I have heard nothing ffoui you since," UPON THIS ROCK. 261 kbing " Quite right," aaid the Captain. " We were only a few >► lioura at Falmouth, and our good cousin here came on board the Boadicea on the very day when I intended to send you a letter. He insisted that we should ascertain what yoa were doing here in London, and I have left the ship in charge of the tirst offioec. Mr. Griffiths," continued the Captain, ad- dressing the clergyman, "lam veryji^lad to meet you once more. You have probably no recollection of our first meeting. It was soon after I succeeded to the command of my first ship, the Freedom. I was going to Torweston from Plymouth in the coach. Some one of the passengers complained of dulness, — you know there are about fifteen miles of rough road there, sir, — and I, being young and overjoyed at my promotion, suggested that a song would relieve the tedium. To this you assented, and I sang the 'Bay of Biscay,' 'Death of Nelson,' and perhaps a few others." " Oh yes, to be sure," replied Mr. Griffiths, " I distinctly remember it. Let me see, was I not asked to sing too 1 " " There were some Bryanites with us in the coach," said the Captain, " and they all seemed to look upon songs as sinful. Your hearty laugh of ridicule rings in my ears now. You sang, and sang well, ' A wet sheet and a flowing seek,' — the British sailor's anthem. They told me that the frightful enormity of a Christian minister singing a song in public was often bitterly alluded to in the prayer meetings of the dis- trict." While this reminiscence was being discussed, our hero said to Blanche : "My love, you have seen my father; he is a plairf man, self-educated, and with various evidences of his calling about liim. What do you think of him ? " " He is altogether satisfactory to me, dearest," she replied. \ . " He has a certain air of subdued power and authority, re- ferrable, no doubt, to his having been in command over others HO long. Do you not think it comes from that ? " she asked, looking towards the Squire. " I do not question but that is the reason," answered Maurice. " He does not look so much like a Pakdin in nineteenth-century costume as his son does, perhaps, but he lias seen much of the world, and I find that he possesses a wide acquaintance in the literature of France, SpaiQ ai^d Uul^." ' , * 262 UPON THIS ROOK. .1 ■if . i. - ' '. 1, ■ Ill|ii, arliBf-- " I am glaH you came to London, cousin Maurice," said Hugh, " since it is necessary that this lady should at soon as possible be placed beyond the machinations of those who would coerce her, now that persuasion and cajolery, and even bribery, have been tried to no purpose." " Something of this we learned from Mr. Curtin," said Maurice, "while Lady 'Blanche to-day spoke of a telegram from Carrig De^imond. I am sure that the Oaptain would like to hear as much of your story — your romance, I should say — as you care to tell, while the clergyman " " The main details are already known to Mr. Griffiths," said our hero ; " but I will tell you what occurred at the confer- ence where your telegram was brought into action." " Go on, my boy, go on," observed the Squire, " we are all attention." Once n:ore, therefore, the story was narrated, and that almost without interruption, until Hugh spoke of the telegram from Carrig Desmond, when the Squire b^an to perambulate the apartment in great excitement. " I cannot imagine," he said, " who committed the forgery, for such it was. I knew absolutely nothing of what was going forward. No communication of any nature ever came to me from any of the persons involved. You say the tele- gram made me speak of you as being an enemy to Ireland, eh?" " < The young man is an enemy to Ireland,' " said Blanche, '* yes, those words I distinctly remember." " It was either a plot of those meddlesome priests, or else Father Lawrence, — but no, I hate to think so badly of him. However, my dear young people, we all recognize the desira- bility of your immediate marriage, since nothing but that will, perhaps, induce the * opposition ' to practise a policy of non- interference. You see, gentlemen," — addressing the Captain and Mr. Griffiths, — " they dare not attempt to wifJidraw a man's wife from her husband, therefore, when the m.arriage is over they must, nolens volens, acquiesce. Hugh tells me that he would have telegraphed to me before this except for that da 1 Iwg pardon ! — that forged telegram. However, here we all are, the license has been procured, — say, when shall it be 1 Let us settle it while we are here, for by St. Kevin ! I am longing to kiss the bride. Three days afterward, Hugh Desmond and Blanche J!ile^ UPON THIS ROCK. 2()3 i^oWs atood together, the one on the right, the other on the left hand, before the altar of a City church, not far from St. Paul's Oathedral. Mr. Griffiths, assisted by a curate belong- ing to the parish, officiated, while the Squire gave away the bride. It was, perhaps, the first time that Mary Curtin and her sister had witnessed any ceremony or service in an Eng- lish Church, however the case may have been with William. Mr. Griffith's magnificent voice, cadence and intonation added additional beauty to a form which is unquestionably both solemn and affecting, even although, like so many marriages themselves, that form begins with '* Dearly beloved " and ends with " amazement." William Curtin, though he knew that both bride and bridegroom were pronounced Rationalists, saw that the service affected them very markedly. The little church was beauti- fully appointed throughout with the chaste propriety of a cultivated archseological taste. Very recently its rector had been temporarily suspended and subjected to much annoyance for his conscientious introduction of altar lights, of the practice of elevating the " elements " at the Eucharist, of mingling water with the wine in the chalice, and for making the sign of the cross. Unlike the evangelical or Low Church ministers, this gentleman did not shut up his church from Sunday to Sunday, and at almost every hour of the day the visitor would be sure to find some zealous, faithful Anglican, city-clerk or merchant, — your middle classes are always the most religious, — there on his knees. Thus it was that quite a small congre- gation was present at Desmond's wedding ; some, doubtless, having been drawn thither by curiosity. Not far from the chancel three ladies, evidently pronounced churchwomen, took part in the service very devoutly. Two of them may be said to have belonged to the church, since they were the sisters of the absent rector ; they were tall, sharp-featured spinsters, both on the shady side of thirty ; but they were valuable auxiliaries to their brother in his laboui's among the poor. The third lady was of smuUer figure, but her face was almost completely hidden by the pillar which threw its shadow be- tween her and her companions, whose seats were nearer thfl middle of the nave. The names of the two sisters were respectively Miss Avis and Miss Eleanor Clynton, and prior to their brother's acceptance of the rectory of St. Ambrose'i they had led quiet^ secluded lives in the parent nest at Witham, 2^4 UPON tnis nocK. I h 1 • hi 711 1 i f . Is** where their father liad for upwards of forty years practised as a physician and surgeon, besides being also the family doctor at the Priory, the ancestral hall of the Kirkes, perliaps the most influential, and assuredly one of the wealthiest, of the great families of Essex. ( To the spectator there is no part of the marriage service more interesting than when the principals plight their troth. Just as the Squire placed Blanche's hand within that of th«> clergyman, who in turn placed it in the right hand of the bridegroom, Miss Eleanor Clynton, — who, because she was at least two years younger, may be presumed to liave been at least two years flightier and more inclined to look with pleasure at many little human vanities than was Avis, — bent hor head in the direction of the above-mentioned pillar and said to the other lady : " Miss Allyn, can you see well there ? They are plighting their troth, ^ee how pale she is, but she looks proud and very determined, I think. How self-possessed he looks. I declare his voice is like a bell : listen ! " " I, Hugh, take thee, Blanche, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth." It is a simple, somewhat ungrammatical, yet most impres sive formula. While Blanche Meadows in her turn repeatetl it, with the additional undertaking to obey, the rector's sisters were lost in admiration, so sweet and so silvery clear was her voice. This interest continued until the ring which symbolized thi^r union had been placed on his wife's finger by Hugh Des- . mond, when Miss Eleanor Clynton, upon turning her head, I was a little surprised to see that Miss Allyn was kneeling down before the officiating minister had uttered the words, *• Let us pray." Little, indeed, did the good sisters suspect the nature of the conflict that was being waged within that gentle bosom, a conflict and a struggle which Edith had de- liberately and of set purpose hazarded and demanded. She had only known the Clyntons since the persecution of their brother made him notorious. The Hon. and Rev. Richmond Kirke was a warm friend and admirer of the daring Ritualistic innovator, or rather restoror, and not less so because the latter WAS the son of the man whose services had been mott in re- UPON THIS ROCK. 265 imppeB- jpeatecl sisters as her ^oliaed h Des • head, leeling words, uspcct n that ad de- She their Ihmond lalistic h Utter in re- quest at the time exigoant when he, the future honourable and reverend, first put in an appearance at the Priory, Witham. Of course, it was not easy to keep the sisters uninformed of the forthcoming wedding, even Imd Mr. Clynton's curate seen any reason for such secrecy, which he did not. The curate was an old friend and college chum of Mr. Griffiths, and when this gentleman, — one of the class of unbefriended ministers to whom promotion never comes, — discovered the rank of the lady at whose marriage his friend was to officiate, it was not long before the ladies at the rectory were put in possession of the news. While the curate was telling his story, Mr. Kirke called to inquire after the rector, and of course it was not long before he, too, learned of the approaching ceremony. *' He had," he observed, *' a slight acquaintance with Mr. Griffiths, and he thought this news would be of interest to the Toyn- bees." Thus it happened that when Mr. Kirke went back to Wanstead he carried with him an earnest invitation from the two Miss Clyntons to their " dear friend Miss AUyn, that she would, if possible, come up to town early on Thursday next, when an old acquaintance (as we understand from Mr. Kirke) is to be married by licence at St. Ambrose's." A little questioning of Mr. Kirke wrung from that gentle- man the name of the forthcoming bridegroom. As it was vacation at Wanstead Hall, Mr. and Mrs. Toynbee had not yet returned from their annual fortnight at the seaside, so that Edith found it quite easy to accept this invitation. On Wed- nesday she sought her own room, and unlocking a little cabinet, — an heirloom from her father, — she took therefrom a faded, yellow-looking envelope. It was a letter written by Hugh Desmond two days before he left Torweston for Holm- wood Hall. How often that letter had been read she herself could not have said. That she had valued it highly may be inferred from the fact that it had lain there so long among her most prized treasures, her mother's wedding-ring and opal earringil, lockets containing portions of her parent's hair and their miniatures, a morocco-covered copy of the Rev. Charles Allyn's "Materialism Refuted, etc.," and other cherished mementoes of the dead. Edith opened the letter and her eyes fell at once on the well-remembered passage : ' ' I will, as you counsel, seek for and «ncourage the spirit of li Pll 266 UPOH THII ROOK. H i !4 III retignation, seeking grace to resign myself in all things to th« Di- vine will. I scarcely think that I stand in need of a warning against ambition ; my highest earthly aspiration is now, and win continue to be, to make myself in all things more worthy of one whom in a few years I hope to be able to claim. I feel that in God's eyes we are already set apart as husband and wife, although the sacrament (as I consider it) is lacking. Wlierever I go, your memory will be my incentive, and every day I prav that by the intercession, of the Blessed Virgin we mav, in God s good time, kneel together to be made one in heart and corauiunion. In that most afTecting lament for hi.: friend Jonathan, David said, " Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." It is very doubtful, however, whether or not the most emotional, sympatlietic and imaginative among men can adequately gauge or estimate the profundity and nature of a true woman's love, or understand her affliction when that love has been outraged and despised. The rudely-snapped branches of the vine will, as gardeners know, " bleed " long after the maiming, and the pangs of a true and first love despised will continue at times to be felt until the scorned one has gone to that bourne ubi sava indignatio cor ulterius lacerare nequit.* As she folded and replaced the letter Edith Allyn remembered that she had lierself written that she could, if called upon to do so, uncomplainingly renounce. Well, the time for renun- ciation had come : — alas, its advent was so sudden ! Only a short time had elapsed since he, the false one, had pressed her hand and called her angel, although, as she now recollected, he had made a mysterious broken allusion to some engagement with Mr. Klrke. Could it be, after all, that he had fallen into an error with regard to herself? What should she, what could she do, when on the morrow the man whom she loved better than herself, better than all else save her God, was to be married to another, was to be lost to herself for evermore ? It seemed to her disturbed imagination that a huge opaque and portentous cloud had suddenly fallen and involved her in darkness, t'lrough which there gleamed a lurid glare enabling her to revognize but one idea, — that he was lost for ever. A peculia t feeling, a sort of dull agony, ap« * "Where fierce disdain is rowerleu further to lacerate the heart" Th« epitaph of the great Dean of St. Patrick's who tried in vain to soorn th« world . pea wai I thei the look ture he 01 and all ti in t\ stron Sh( theO woulc above made for th< tended have n tranqu while The 1 Clyntoni rumour i bride. { of Guisb Jnstructo enough i{ the founc And m "ghtham let no m, Edith, a i endured i reader of i ^^OS THIS HOOK. 267 wtltfu't*^^^^^ ^*-^er hear, and .he feared thatch. ;-^ed «> «!!"£,,«« "T thi"" ^^ - •b:jure'h r it ' ure came to her mind -- c^J/* '"?;"«°<> • P«sage of Scrii he oareth for you " Tn **°« »" ^our carTuMn hi^ *'^ n th« dark, bitter waters^ b • * ''"'' ""-"KKled 8hf l""t her w.y to X:;' ««'""'«'««on, and baftfing for there were one or Zovrit7^^':f '^''"'y '"d »erene'|"? tended to. While »aiti*« Zll W' '" '-'"'' to beai: have nor care nor trouKheT^tl"""' ^'"' »««»ed tl ^JO'c. with The, foi „:f„tj;.'!'. »<«•. rumour spr.«|. ,„d j^g^ ^y knew ,t „ wonderful how wide She was the dauehter 7Z , *.*" PeiWHality of the o^^GuLborough. The bStglZ h^^^Kl*"*'"'"-' »' 'he Ea? 'Mtrnotor at Holmwood hS^V^^ ^" " ""U'w-maater or «'ough it proved in tr.^rft^f^."'"' »" know„_„„i^' the foundation for a very^l^tw""^ ^'^"t"" <» «rve «» . And now they wer« i,. ??"'''* """ance, ' "ghthand., I>«l«id "Th^th?^ 'h* Priest, j„i„i„g „„;, 1" no man put «,under"^ *h^ ?«""'"' joined t^ether Ed'th, a time of unsDeak.hi " '"^ '*«" » "ore ordeal L ^adX "•*"" "'"^~ T7m^r- ^f ''^« "-^ Of „.n, accept from .etheLs^'^ tlt'ot^iT^J \ Ij 31 , 268 UPON THIS ROCK. n and philosophy can each, to the believing Christian and tlie true lover of wisdom, impart constancy and strength of mind in every affliction and trial. The rest of the service interested Edith but little, — saving the officiating minister, she was, per- haps, the most fervent in prayer, however, of all within the church. As the procession went down the aisle, Edith lifted the half-veil she had hitherto worn. Accidentally the eyes of the bride met hers for an instant, and Edith noted the glail radiance with which those magnificent orbs were fired, while she acknowledged within hei'self the literal truth of the opinion expressed by Eleanor, that the newly-married lady was grandly beautiful. She would not wait until the bndal party left the vestry, but thanking her friends for their kindness in thinking of her in connection with this noteworthy wedding, Edith bade them adieu at the church doci*, thus anticipating and, at least for the time, precluding thd curiosity of the sisters to learn something of the charact^^r and condition of the bride- groom. Hugh Desmond and his wife, with their friends, returned to their hotel in the Adelphi. There the post-nuptial festivi- ties were modestly and clieerfully observed, Mr. Griffiths in the course of the evening humorously narrating his own escape from the hymeneal yoke. Under the favourable influence of the time and the occasion, William Curtin told some excellent, and of course most veracious, stories of Fion MacOumhal and other worthies of Milesian tradition, while his good wife, Mary, sang to Blanche Desmond's accompaniment many of the sweetest of Ireland's matchless melodies. Nellie Curtin sat as close as possible to Blanche during the day, for she had learned to love the lady very much, and now that Madeleine had returned from Brittany, Nellie would have to return to Gloucester Street and the mantles of St. Paul's Churchyard. Four days afterward, our hero, his wife and his father, with the faithful Madeleine, and " convoyed," as the Captain said, by Cousin Maurice, left London for Carrig Desmond. I') HERK RNDKTH BOOKK YB FIRST. II Upon this RorK. I'O'J BOOKE YE SECOND. CHAPTER XXX. VHB WOOINQ OF MR. KIRKB. WANSTEAD Hall, though a modern foundation, was a much more ambitious and pretentious seminary than was John Drake's old grammar school at Culm Tor. As the majority of men would view it, Mr. Toynbee had doubtless done a wise thing in accepting the head-mastership of a school whose pupils, some two hundred in number, were nearly all scions of the secondary bourgeoisie, and in liberating himself from the burden of that engrossing and oppressive ledger, substituting for the wearisome £. s. d. of its triplicated columns a bank-account wherein the sum total of the deposits, however insignificant when compared with that of the Devon- shire savings bank, was a much more gratifying and satisfac- tory subject of contemplation to Mr. Toynbee himself. Never- theless, dear reader, T think upon close inquiry it would perchance be found that the good schoolmaster somewhat regretted the old life of peace, calm content, and happiness. There was, — or at least it seemed to him that there was, — a certfkin air of unreality and of affectation about the school as unsatisfactory to his perceptions as the smell of prunella, I varnish, and new leather in the recently-made library of a parvenu. Among the Seniors, and to some extent among the Juniors also, there was a certain audacity or "loudness" that savoured too much of vulgar ostentation. Massive gold watch- chains abounded among the fellows, and the cricket eleven, the football team, and the school athletes all wore uniforms more tawdry than serviceable, uniforms which, in the various matches and competitions with the representatives of other schools, fared but too often like Sir John Suckling's troop of horse at the hands of the Covenanters. Ably seconded, how- ever, by the assistant masters, one of whom had taken orders, Mr. Toynbee had already improved the general tone ; and he 270 UPON THIS ROCK. had every feAson to believe that the advent of a iiumf)er o( boys from various old county families of Essex and Hertford shire, — brought hither in a great measure by the influence oi Mr, Kirke, — would tend gradually to eliminate the priggish- ness and showy pretentiousness of the gilded youth ot tin suburbs. Mr. and Mrs. Toynbee returned to Wanstead Hati on Saturday, two days after the marriage of our hero. The fort- night spent at Broadstairs had considerably benefited them, Mr. Toynbee especially being as sunburnt as a fisherman. The two assistant-masters seemed also to have turned their vacation to the same excellent purpose, for as the party sat down to tea in Mrs. Toynbee's parlour their cheerfulness of voice and excellence ci appetite corroborated the ansurance oi vigorous health presented by their bronzed faces ^ad brilliant eyes. " Miss Allyn," said one of the masters, — the clergyman, the Rev. John Skilton, — "may I verxture to say that you are looking a little paler thar when I (aw you last 1 Have you had no vacation f surely you have not been shut up here all these weeks, have you t " " Paler f do you think so, Mr. Skilton ? Only by compari- son with the faces you have encountered lately, perhaps," replied Edith. " I assure you I have had a most agreeable time. Before uncle and aunt went down to Broadstairs we almost explored Essex and Hertfordshire, besides what wh accomplished in town, enjoyed yourselves." Mr. Sharpe, — who " natural philosopher " of the school, — hesitated somewhat in his speech^ although his articulation was good, so before he could testify regarding his experience Mr. Skilton returned u reply on his own part. "Thank you, yes. I accepted a locum ttnency at the sea- side, Birchampton, where I have had a famous time, I assure you. The parish is in excellent order. There are few Dissen- ters ; they nave the eastward position and clioral celebrations. T had no previous knowledge of the incumbent, who was mainly anxious to know if I could intone." " Did you see him before concluding the engagement, Mr. Skilton?" inquired tho principal. " Oil yea ! I went down in reply to his notice in the Guar' I htpe that you and Mr. Sharpe have was the mathematical instructor and ;'radua een kille niother, wi in their ow I of a Qoven ' Dorseti »s he had ^♦"lightful c '"*iii befoj-e % VPOV THIS ROCK. diaft. You Irnn«r i>- . 2'^ ^ver, although rt v '" ^ ' ""'"P™' leaning, it wl 1.M . '^^'' '•'fasp,endi/tlr'"Ttr,roWth''^"~^-'^«"^^^ k«* S P'?''"r''^."" "'<«li« stud? Thi" •A"'""'"-? ,|/ I' tilL'.lf.l^f 272 UPON THIS ROOK. ■ I ■:i" :' : ! went together in a small yacht from Sidmouth to Poole. Mildred, why is it that the toast one gets away from home is always cold and humid ^ " " Not always, I think, dear," remonstrated Mrs. Toynbee ; " but I suppose it sometimes comes from overworked servants and perhaps irregularity on the part of the guests. You knew, dear, that when yon were at the seaside I could never quite feel assured that you would not be at least half-an-hour late to dinner." " Humph ! " said Mr. Toynbee, " we go to such places to escape from routine ; but we are all the thralls of habit, go where we may. For example, your city merchant may be seen any day on the beach studying the stock and share lisii^s ; I myself always took the Times in my pocket, as though one wanted to read of politicians and their scheming in the shadow of the North Foreland. That reminds me, Edith, my dear, did you read that marriage notice in yesterday's Times? Of course you did, women discover such things intuitively." Edith merely smiled at her uncle's sarcasm, but Mrs. Toynbee replied : " Then I am afraid that my intuition must be very much at fault, since I am obliged to confess that it did not lead me to read the Times at all yesterday. Indeed, Mr. Toynbee, I think the paper must have been in your pocket all the day. But to what notice do you allude 1 Has any one I know been married this week ? " " I should think so, indeed," said Mr. Toynbee, " no other than our friend Mr. Desmond of Torweston." " Mr. Desmond married ! You surprise roe, G«orge." " I can scarcely see why, my dear," observed Mr. Toynbee. " Mr. Skilton, may I trouble you to pass the cream ? — surely since Adam's time it has been natural enough among men to marry." "Yes, yes, I know," answered Mrs. Toynbee, upon whose good nature her better-balfs mild sarcasm seldom had any perceptible effet^t ; " but then Mr. Desmond never seemed to be a marrying man, and since we knew him he has become a Romanist, and I concluded that in time he would become a priest." " In which event he certainly would be a tnarrying man," said the incorrigible schoolmaster. " However, here it is," — and, rising from the table, Mr. Toynbee possessed himself of 101 i a n Aruh si.ste( of G Mead say tc For too in fliverti ters, w iiis nie it Desmi about "Ab< 'nquirec 'lad beei Mr. T said, "w ^ut com bursting The asi smile at t Toynbee \ ''ad, of CO t'le niarrit "But A* 'toynbee, ' ^0 with Ir "Lady J returned hi However, ] way learn i ^Ir. Skill I long enoug themselves h'arious tre |re5pit« from I discovering I 'edge of the pe himself a "I have 18 mfi" Of ^POy THIS ROOK. 11 27Z a newspaper. « r,- . 271 Ambrose's; vesfc^M f ' ' ^«SMOND-Afr.n. , For a „„tt,g„4 jj 'y- "■'"»t do you , " Edith," he «id « PPortumty of «,dr«.u,g Desmond W., ' y"" "^ to take so-,. • . «l«ut it?" "*'■« yo" not heard onyth'i „r4m Tn '^^■•• "About what , 1 , Clynton. ''4 of ooulT.' •"^'»"'' to wSfc.'PP*™"* that Mr. %nbee. " anrf «ri,^ l ^ -Dianche Meadows ? » ; ^-nth i.p '-■ "" ""^ ""'■ ^-"^ »^ ^S4S , --n^^hSrX^^r-^^^^^^^^^ -'■» "-ghte. that i. .„ ■■ '«rious Tre^urJl ;«'P«tive a^rtmenta ^ ' '^'°°'' ,f«: fi' li i74 UP05 THIS ROCK. /. !i ;t stanoea precedent to this extraordinary wedding were, as Miss Eleanor Glynton bays, of a decidedly romantic character. Indeed, the ' society papers,' as they call them, liave already hinted as much. I have read vague paragraphs in wiiich Mr. Desmond has been stigmatized as an adventurer, accused of beating a gentleman almost to death in Ireland for singing the national anthem, and so on, all proving, I think, the ignorance of their writers. This, however, is from Veritas, and it bears in some degree the impress of truth," and the reverend gentleman gave Mrs. Toynbee a cutting from the veracious organ of small-talk he had named. Having raised the lamp which stood on the centre-table, Mrs. Toynbee read the following : " ROMANCE IK HIGH LIFE. " We understand that no [Miiiis were spared by the peer who.ukl say UPON THIS ROCK. 276 *' She is grandly, superbly beautiful, auutie," replied Edith ; " she is the most )^)eautiful womau I have ever seen. And oh, she looked so very happy ! " and the speaker turned away from the table, not so quickly, however, but that her aunt discovered the swelling moisture in her eyes. Mr. Kirke's visit was a very brief one. Before leaving he pressed his friends to take tea at the rectory the following evening. Edith was al)out to ask to be excused, when she saw the clerjoymun looking wistfully toward hev, and she re- lented. ' " Miss Allyn," he said, " Mrs. Wiltshire will be there and her son Charles, whose stories of adventure will, I am sure, interest Mr. Toynbee very much. It is really astonishing to tindsoyounga man, coinparatively speaking, with so extended tin experience." Having thus skilfully limed the twig for Mr. Toynljee, who, like ail sedentary men, delighted in stories of travel and ad- venture, the clerj^yman turned to plead with Mrs. Toynbee. " Will you not t,ake pity on a lonely bachelor t " he said. " I assure you the rectory is as dull and .silent as a hermitage, and I am becoming hypochondriacal." "1 do not wonder at that, Mr. Kirke," observed the school- master ; '* you know who has said that it is not good for man to be alone. If there is one thing more than another which I, as a faithful, loving son of the Church of England, dislike to see, it is that any of our clergy should even innocently ap- pear to countenance that unnatural feature of Roman discipline which precludes their clergy from matrimony. I hope," con- tinued he, in his emphatic manner, passing his right hand across the top of his rather bald head, " I hope that by this time twelve months the rectory will have a mistress. How can any clergyman do his duty in a parish without a wife to act as a deaconess among the poor? However, Mr. Kirke, we accept your kind invitation," — Mr. Toynbee spoke for the ladies without consulting them, but men will sometimes act thus ; " I am glad to see that that young scapegrace Wiltshire is not tishamed to be known as a churchman." Bachelors' parties are not often brilliant successes as enter tninments. On the following evening, however, Mr. Kiike, Ills curate, and Charles Wiltshire exerted themselves to please, Wiltshire taking especial delight when any of his Ameri«Hti reminiscences, jarring the schoolmaster's susceptibilities, awoke P ' 1 lit IT 'm i fUt,' m l^il' ! »'i' 276 tJPOH THIS ROCt. a series of withering sarcaBini in which the dentocratic prin- ciple was held responsible for ignorance, lawlessness, irreligion, chicanery and corruption. Mrs. Toynbee and old Mrs. Wilt- shire were comparing notes economical, the latter lady having had a long and thorough experiertce in housekeeping at the Priory. " Mr. Wiltshire," said Mr. Toynbee, after the young man had told a story of an elderly spinster in Ohio who had applied to her lawyer with the view to collect damages for certain alleged heart injuvies resulting from the defection of her affianced, — "Mr. Wiltshire, why did that woman say collect for obtain or procure ? Do you know, sir, that many of those Americanisms seem to send a shiver or cold spasms up one's back?" " Quite so, Mr. Toynbee, quite so ; I fully understand that. When I went to America I used to regard all suclvexpressions and irregularities as personal outrages, or as proceeding directly from a perverse but fixed intention to degrade the English language.* But one gradually becomes less sensitive. With your permission, I will tell you a little story of a Western editor who took umbrage because our manager would not, after paying for our advertisements, give a free pass to the whole newspaper establisliment." At this juncture Mr. Kirke arose and crossing the room addressed Edith. " Miss AUyn," he said, "I am sure you find all this insuffer- ably dreary. If you will come into the library I will ask your opinion of some old prints I bought the other day in Picca- dilly." " Thank you," she said, " I am sure I shall like them, as your judgment is so good. Yes, Mr. Wiltshire's anecdotes soon pall upon one, I think. It seems to me th^vt, instead of humour, his stories chiefly contain absurd and sometimes gro- tesque exaggerations." •' He would assure you that exaggeration i$ their humour," returned Mr. Kirke, as they entered the next room, where the rector kept liis books and a tine collection of prints and wator colours. The prints recently purchased were in a portfolio, and for some time Edith examined them almost in silence. * Mr. Ruakin ia roportud t.n entertain a somewhat similar opinion, which he thus express js: " 'hcnever you hijar an Amerioan cxprcasiou then* comes upon you a sense of sudden cold. It ia the csaontlal function of America to make ua all feel that." ing '■ *ffelf "«>» mre Rocit. Suddenly, liowever ~ . ^'^^ o-^xr^r p^p'*-""-^ r^'tT/r'""' "p™^™ 'T^'^-T^'"''' •""-• '"' y"" — not «'way8 take un^u '^®'/ remember now hnf 'on* looked f„r„™_riY": j^dith,— „,„ j »„ " »' t** to. dearon^S' "■.••« your husband. Sv fr* ''^'' *^'"'. *.l"/afi ^'™^^ "' - -vS' vent ^ — " Mr. Kirke. T .. ' *^*'' "''« Po«ibility„f tli,. AUwZ7' ^ '""'« "«"«■• thought of *. ">y life to God thlt T ^ "^"n when / sav T ht ," *''«^- the Lord T,k i ^ "*" 'fying to beom^l L ?*"* ^"voted '•'f '" '^'"^'""-''<"--t':4rthtY The rector boweH hip i. .. '^«.wif,£ """"' ""' ""'^ '-' -"^^^ -« ^-hjj;,p„'^'»„^-'">.e «.«.a.„o,t in » .h.spe, -he '«« "gZu'Tly'defendint^F '"«■"'''"' "•"y found Mr Tov ill III-' !^ m ■ fn 27fl uroN tmib itocK. ill I \ - ; ^ f 1 > - , trived to stAnd responsible for certain grave accusations against the fraternity. On such a theme, the schoolmaster always waxed profoundly eloquent, so neither he nor the other gentlemen even thought of observing the traces of emotion in his countenance when Mr. Kirke rejoined them. With Mrs. Toynbee, however, the case was very different. On the pre- ceding evening she had seen her niece's eyes fill with tears when she spoke of the happy looks of Blanche Desmond, and it may be that this slight occurrence had sharpened her vigi- lance. That night, after Edith had retired, her aunt entered the room and knelt beside the bed to kiss the peaceful, lovely faoe beside her. " Dearest," she said, " is there anything you wish to toll met Mr. Kirke was agitated this evening, and so, I think, were you. Do you wish to tell me anything, Edith dear ? " " It must be our secret, auntie," she replied, '' Mr. Kirke's, mine, yours and God's. If you like, you may tell uncle so that he may be on his guard when talking with the rector. Yes, auntie, he asked me to be his wife." " And you, my dear ? what was your answer ? " said Mrs. Toynbee. ** I told him, auntie, th&t I should never marry, that I have devoted myself unto God." " Yes, dear," said the aunt, " yes, dear. G^od-night, my lore ! Are you sure, Edith, — that is, do you think you are sure, that you have given your heart wholly to God ? " *i Yes, auntie, I think so ; I will try to resign myself in all things to his will." " Gk>od night, dear ! " said Mrs. Toynbee, — and as she kissed her niece's brow two tears fell from her eyes, — " Good night and Qod bless you ! Remember, darling, that ' If we suffer we shall also reign with him.' " Such, reader, is the faithful Christian's consolation in be- reavement or affliction. It is, perhaps, better than the indura- tion of Stoicism ; but let religion and philosophy say what they will, it is, methinks, always painful to stifle pain. m ,sa2. 1 UPOM THM BOCK. 279 my are in I kissed night suffer in indura- whut CHAPTER XXXI. IN WHICH MB. SHINE PBBFEB8 TO BIDE. FATHER Lawrence O'Ruarc, soon after our hero and his bride took up their residence at Carrig Desmond, retired to the presbytery at Inniscarra. Ere long it was industriously rumoured throughout the neighbourhood that the young couple were Atheists, and it was hinted at the same time that the Squire had fallen or was about to fall from the faith. Among the country gentry, however, Lady Blanche Desmond wa8 a general favourite ; and if so much could not be said for her husband, it was certainly true that he was widely respected, except among the peasantry, who, — thanks to assiduously- fostered prejudice and well-fanned V> "votry, — always among themselves alluded to " the young squire " as a renegade from the faith and an opponent to the national aspiration for liberty. The most careful inquiry at th^ telegraph office with respect to the forged telegram resulted in no discovery of i>nportunoe. Though our hero remembered reading the words *' Inni&cnrra, Co. Carlow," on the paper held before him by the priest, he had forgotten that there was no telegraph ottice nearer to the castle than Ooolreagh, the railway station six miles west of Carrig Desmond. There was absolutely nothing to connect Father O'Ruarc with the forgery, so that the cousins ultimately accepted the opinion put forward by Lady Blanche, — namely, that either Major Meadows or Father Nevins, or perhaps the two in concert, had sent an emissary across the Irish Hea with certain instructions, which had, of course, been strictly followed. During the winter there had been no evictions on the Earl of Sherborne's estates, because that nobleman's reply to the agent's statement of the demands put forward by the tenantry had taken the form of a personal visit, during which his lord- sliip saw enough to convince him that three bad yearo in succession had strained the resources of the small farmers very much indeed. Having ascertained this to his own satisfac- tion, the Earl had called the tenantry together and announced that he had resolved to take only a half-year's rent from them. In this manner, he hoped, they would all see how heartily he sympathi;i(id with tUeui, '' tor how," added he with a twinkle w "-V-^^ ... K%. •^, ^, % IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I m |50 M llllltt IIIM IIM 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 4« 6" — ► % ^ ^ A .^3 ^. * ^^% VI !^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. M580 (716) 872-4503 280 UPOi: THIS ROCK. of humour in his kindly eye, " how can one man better manifest sympathy with another than by voluntarily assuming a moiety of his trouble to himself 1 " Thus it happened that for some months Mr. Patrick Shine was compelled to concen- trate his energies on the development of his own particular business as a grocer and general dealer rather more than was his wont. Early in the new year, however, the Agitator had been absent from Inniscarra rather more than a month, and on his return he exhibited certain credentials by virtue of which he at once stepped into the position of a recognized leader among the Nationalists of the district. It seemed, moreover, that the elements themselves had conspired to strengthen his influence, for the spring and early summer had been unusually rainy, and on all sides the small cultivators were sorely disheartened and hopeless. Instead of being " tided over," the troiiblous time had been extended and its stringency increased, so that it was now, — early in July though it was, however, — rfjj,sonably certain that but few of the tenant farmers would be able to meet their obligations to their land- lords from the ingathering of that year. Day after day the rain fell in torrents, until the roads were converted into quag mires, and the wheat in the fields began to bend ominously before the pitiless downpour. The first dry day of the month, — that had not, however, run into its second week as yet, — happened to be the particular Friday whereon Tim Darragh, factotum at the Presbytery, had undertaken to drive the jaunting car to Coolreagh, there to meet and receive his em- ployer and pastor the Rev. Father Tom Oahill. Having left the village a few hundred yards in his rear, Tim drew out his dudheen, or short pipe, — the inevitable clay, with stem free from flexure and bowl absurdly thick and uncouth, — filled it with a weed more pungent than fragrant in promised potency, and began to smoke in comfort. On no consideration would he, dearly as he loved tobacco, have smoked while driving through Inniscarra, inasmuch as the Protestant clergyman'^' man, who was a mirror of neatness in his turnout, had once spoken in Tim's hearing that no self-respecting groom or coachman would copy the manners of a Dublin jarvey. With his hat thrown to the back of his head and thoroughly enjoying his smoke, Tim Darragh seemed resolved to make his duty as pleasant to himself as possible. He was a fine speci- men of the Leinstei- peaHant ; although not quite twenty yefna ^POy THIS ROCK. old, he was nearly ni^ t . - , ^* 'narrow of waist, white h?« *" !'^^^' ^'""^^ «^ «I'oulder and press of good naiurj"^^^,^^;^^^^^ always bore the !^ open suffering the £mint 'J^^^^ ^dad " " ' "' '"'' own will S v^iiroy that kmd of a ffirl « fo.vL ^ Wonder is Kafi« ^nd",t\tiT"' "^ -^" n.^'r r ^''■"» -^^^ „^«^ ^**^*® ^Jerself is a P,.o7 ^ ^ ^'^ Orangeman I ,^. «»e intonif^.^trwa*: ,^S'7'« ""«' ^e cros.- * "Mv H..II — • '^"'^e, It was e» dearer than th^wulwltbinmo." 282 Opow thts itdcK. a sin to be confessed, but maybe the poor devil was hungry and too proud to beg. Maybe, in some such a case myself would ha' done no better, the saints between us and sin ! Wisha, though, a wise man ought to be able to fill his belly widout endangering his soul. Sure, in such a ticklish case of conscience, myself would have killed and eaten the drake wid a protest, as I heard Father Tom say wance to the district in- spector, or wid a reservation to the effect that I would make a point of consulting my spiritual director on the subject before next Easter anyway. Sure, there is nobody at the cross-roads ; hi ! Molly, get up I w *' ' Ould King Cole was a merry ould soul, And a merry ould soul was he ; He called for his pipe and called for his glasSj And called for his fiddlers three.' Bedad ! there is somebody there ; aye, and it's Paddy Shine or tlie divil. Faith, I have about as much liking for the one as the other." It was, perhaps, because his affections were thus evenly balanced that Tim touched the mare's right flank with the whip, while he himself, turning his eyes toward the left, oqc« more, and wit i increased ene^y, began to sing : *' I looked here, I looked there, I looked over yander ; And there I saw the ould gray goose A-winkin' at the gander. Roll up my ould coat, turn up nw sleeve,— Jordan is a hard road to travel, 1 believe." Very much to Darragh's disgust, however, Molly, having turned the corner at the milepost, suddenly stopped as if in terror, whereupon Tim almost instinctively shortened the reins, a movement which in all probability prevented the startled mare from running away. Mr. Pat Shine, having seen the car some time before he himself had been recognized by its driver, had made up his mind to avail himself of it as a means of locomo- tion so long as his own way was concurrent with the high road. The Agitator was too crafty to be deceived or out- manoeuvred by Tim's simple rase, which he had defeated by stepping quickly into the middle of the road and extending UPON THIR ROCK. 28.'? his arms, being at the same time on the alert to step aside should the device prove unsuccessful. " Arrah : Mr. Shine," growled Tim, as he almost drew the mare on to her haunches, " what the divil possessed ye to act so like an omadhaun or a madman ? See here now, — whoa, Molly, whoa ! — 'tis all I can do to hould the crachur' in, sure ye almost scar't the life out from her whin ye darted out like the haythin Oallachan sweeping down from the Rock o' Cashel." " Why, Tim, ma boucha!" replied Shine, " what else could I do ? Sure I wanted a lift on the car for a mile or two may- be beyant, but how the divil were you to know that, trotting along as ye were like King O'Toole's pig, wid your beautiful great big mouth wide open ? " " Faith, Mr. Shine, sure ye'U allow that wan could not ex- pect to meet yourself here." "Maybe so, Tim Darragh," returned Shine, " but whativer ye expected, sure, my hearty, you knew that T was there by the side of the road all the same." "Faith, an' if I did, Mr. Shine, divil—" "Avast there, ma bouchaleetty" said the other, "sure it raises the divil in a man when a green gomeril such as you are tries to pull the wool over his eyes, as they say in Ameriky. Tim, my son, I was born in Waterford, too near the salt water to be deludhered by so fresh a gorsoon as yerself." " Ye may have been born in hell for what I care, Paddy Shine," said Darragh, his face flushing, " but if ye dare to say that I am a liar, by the powers, but I'll bate ye until — " " Until I am ready to dance Peter O'Pea on one toe, Tim, I guess," said Shine, laughing ; " arrah, man, let me git on i.oard the car, an' quit your foolin'. I have fought as good men as yourself in my time, Darragh, on sea and on shore, with fist and shillelagh, and divil a wan has shown better play than meself. I have another sort of fighting to do now, ma lanuv, and besides, Tim, I am old enough to be your father." "On wid ye, Mr. Shine!" cried the easily placated Tim, " sure I was only mad wid the mare, I think. Get on, Molly ! And how far are ye going on this road, Mr. Shine 1 " " There's to be a meeting at Heffernan's this afternoon," returned the other, " and we will be after trying to put tuatters into shape for the hard times that are threatening the counthry. If there i» tp be any further tightening, why then^ 284 17 PON THIS ROCK. ^1 kit bedad, we will take care that the landlords get their share of it too." " At Heffernan's ! " said Darragh, in some surprise ; " why, man, it's yerself that's on the wrong road entirely. You will go three miles out of your way by taking the Coolreagh road, whereas if ye go the usual way by Carrig Desmond 'twill be more pleasant and you will save at l^ast an hour, for from the Holy Well it is all up-hill to Heffernan's." " I know all that, Tim, but I would rather not go by the ould castle. Not that I should care very much even iSE the ould Squire attended our meeting ; but faix, wid him they call the Young Master 'twould be different. He is no friend of the people, Tim, and be sure that the people will not forget it ayther." "You are a great politician, Mr. Shine," answered Tim, " and it may be as you say. But maybe those of the other side have good arguments of their own, and by the same token, I would have ye undherstand that Father Tom and Father Larry don't agree in their politics at all, at all." " Indade, Tim ? " asked Shine, with some show of curiosity, " are ye quite convinced of that same 1 " " Bedad, an' it's often I've heard them discoorsin' of it," said Tim, " an' well I know what Father Tom, long life to him anyway ! has to say about it." "Aye, aye," said the Agitator artfully, " but you are not scholar enough, Tim, to spake it, is that it 1 " " Savin' your presence, I did not say so, Mr. Shine. Faith, because a man does not keep a grocery or a shebeen, he need not be considered altogether an eejeot. Many's the time have I heard Father Tom say that Repeal was, or had been, a plain, straightforward issue, but that Home Bule ayther means more than it says, in which case it is an imposture, or is a totally inadequate proposal. Them's his own words, Mr. Shine, as I've heerd them spoken to Father Larry again and again." " And what has Father Larry to say by way of answer, Tim 1 " inquired Shine with interest. " Arragh ! not much, man, at all, at all. Sure, all the world knows that no one, barrin' maybe the Pope, can equal Father Tom in conthrovarsy. Father O'Ruarc only muttered acme- thing about a wedge and its thin end, but what the divil has that to do wid the question anyhow 1 " " Father Tom is a ^reat friend of this young Ddsmond] they UPON THIS ROCK. 285 say," said Shine. "They are often colloguing at the castle, I hear, but the Young Master never goes ayther to chapel or ohurch. Bfttween ourselves, Tim Darragh, — since you love Father Tom so well, — his rivereiice might do better than asso- 3iate wid a man who has sold his soul to the devil." " Sold his soul to the devil ! Who do you mane, Pat Shine? Surely not the Young Master at the castle 1 " " Begorra ! no one else, Tim. Why, man, not a month goes by widout his having some infidel article or pome in one or other of the Sassenagh magazines or newspapers. Sure, all Ireland knows he is the most out-and-out infidel there is, and that it would be a mortal sin to walk on the same side of the way wid him." " Tare an' agers ! " cried Tim in dismay, " can that be pos- sible ? Holy Mary pity him and enlighten his ignoi-ance ! 'Deed an' it's a sad thing, Mr. Shine. I was thinking, maybe he was a bit of a Pradestint, but sure I never thought he was an infidel." " Worse nor an infidel, I tell ye, Tim Darragh ; sure he is an Atheist, which is Turk, haythin, Pradestint, Orangeman, and iniidel all in one. He is an enemy to the Church, and well Father Tom knows it, and faix, I would tell his riverence so to his face." *' That may be, Mr. Shine," said Tim ; " I'll not give ye the lie by saying ye would not ; but, begorra, I'll not have ye say- ing that Father Tom collogues wid the Young Master other than in pure friendship." " I don't deny that," said the other, "sure his riverence cannot help it, and maybe it is tryin* to make a Christian of him he is ; but he will fail, Tim, he will fail, for all the Des- monds have always been stubborn as rocks, and the dear knows. Father Tom himself may be injured by associating wid him. It is nearly always the case wid thim that hould con- varse wid such. I knew one or two of that sort in Ameriky." " And you were hurt by associating wid them while there, vvt re ye 1 " asked Darragh, sarcastically. " Maybe yes, to some triflin' extent," said the Agitator, '' but I have had absolution long ago for that, more by token that Ameriky is the land of liberty, where of coorse you are likely to meet many a wan who differs from us here in the ould country." '•yes. to be aure,' observed Tim, with a peculiar smile, ii 1^: i; '^1 286 UPON THIS ROCK. " Anierlky is the land of liljerty. My cousin Mary Keeffe went to Boston tliree year ago, and well she knows that it is a land of liberty." " Mary Keeffe ? " inquired Shine, " is she a daughter of Ned KcefTe who houlds under the Squire?" " To be sure she Is," answered Tim, " and she was, had she only known it, well enough off at home. But she had heard so much of America that she, — bein' a bit of a dressmaker, — went off* one fine morning soon after getting a fine letter from some friends of the ould people who were livin' in that same Boston." " But she has done well in the new country, T guess," said Shine. " Wisha, then, to tell you the truth, Mr. Shine, not so well as she thought to do at all, at all. She lived wid the friends for a week or two, when they gently hinted that Mary had better look out for something to do. She travelled all over the city looking for work, but divil an Irish dressmaker was wanted that saison in Boston. At last when her money was all gone, her friends found her a place in sarvice, and, the dear knows, poor Mary soon began to wish herself back in ould Ireland, wid nothing harder to do than to milk the cows, make the butter, and maybe wash thep'taties for her mother." " And sure bein* in service is honest work anyway," ob- served the Agitator, " and shiver me timbers ! but I think I would like it better than I would stitching away day after day like little Dan Hagarty, the lame tailor in Inniscarra. Bedad, there is a goose or a turkey to be found once in a while in a good kitchen, but divil a goose has Hagarty or the likes of him except one that 'twould crack his ould jaws to bite at." " But service at home, where there arc cooks, housemaids, and a boy or two' to run arrands, is quite a different thing from what poor Mary found it in Boston. There, begorra, she was maid of all work, — though the master was a banker, — and the misthress, having been brought up in a house where they had no servants of any kind, was as hard as a Tartar now that she had power, and poor Mary was kapt at it all day long, worse nor a nagur. She kept k\ her place, how- ever, until her master ran away to Canady wid all the money of the bank and another man's wife. Since then she has worked in several houses, but her pride will not allow her to UPON THIS ROCK. i8t eonie back to the oulU sod before she has saved a little money. Mary is a sharp little colleen, and the briglitest that ever carce out o' the Brothers' school in Inniscarra. Fatlier Tom himself has read most of her letters, and he laughs fit to burst when she takes off the upstarts. Take my word for it, Mr. Shine, however well you may know Ameriky, I would rather serve a dacent, honest Christian gentleman at home, one of the old stock, than go to your land of liberty to toil like a slave wid pick and shovel or to run around like a dog at the whistle of a putty-faced counter-jumper or some mongrel shoneen no higher than myself, or better ayther except for his money. No, no ; ould Ireland is good enoujjh for me, and T notice that the folk who are always advising a poor boy to emigrate to the land of liberty and happiness seldom swallow any of their own physic. But here we are at the Holy Well. You have better than three miles to go up that rocky boreetr% and all because you do not like the young Squire, a vie." For a moment or two Tim Darragh watched the Agitator as he wended his way, with his peculiar rolling, sailor-like gait, up the hill. As he once more urged his mare onward, Tim shook his head ominously. " Pat Shine and Dennis Heffernan working together, indade ! Well, it's myself that would not care to be a third wid them, for they do say that Dennis is an ould moonlighter and that innocent blood lies at his door. There will come little that is good out of the colloguing of two such rapparees, I'm thinking," So far as the landowners of the district were concerned, little good, indeed, resulted from the active coalition thus deprecated by Tim Darragh. Soon after the meeting at Hel^ fernan's, various demands were made upon the landlord?? and their agents, demands which appeared all the more exorbitant and unreasonable because hitherto the tenantry had always shown moderation and freedom from class envy and malevo- lence. The history of Ireland is fraught with illustrations of the evil harvest certain to be reaped when sleeping, careless guardians and heartless lawgivers allow the enemy to come and sow tares among the wheat. Instead of Feudalism, con- .scious of its duties, — as when a Warwick fed thirty thousand men at his tables in merrie England, — we now have Feudo^ ,art >■■< *Angllce, a lane or country road. 288 UPON tUta ROCK. Commercialism, Vi'hich enables the Howards, Cecils, Gros- venors, et id genus omne, — surely tiothi pulli, ex peregrinis tnaribus concepti^, — to pile one upon another the guineas drawn from their rack-rented tenants and impoverished lease- holders. Noblesse oblige^ forsooth ! Who will guarantee to the bastard system twenty years more of life ? CHAPTER XXXII. SHOWING SOME MODERN METHODS OF PROMOTlXn FREEDOM. DURING thefollowingwinter, — 1873-4,— there had been a number of outrages, — nearly all of a petty character, however, — perpetrat^ed around Inniscarra. Many of the bounds had been poisoned, so that little or no hunting had taken place, the master of the Innishogue foxhounds wisely determining not to risk the almost certain loss of the pack by calling a meet. By means well-known to those acquaintfid with the methods of Irish conspiracy a powerful agrarian secret society had been formed. This society was all the more formidable beca^ise it was guided and directed rather as an instrument of vengeance by ignorant, brutal, and revenge- ful men, instead of being subject to the restraint of some central authority such as has since developed into an imperium in intperio, and which has even been negotiated with as a qualified high contracting power by statesmen and politicians, anathematized by the supercilious Ins, and wooed and vindi- cated by the embittered, yearning, and envious Outs. At Qarrig Desmond the apparent inability of the tenants to pay their rents had been accepted and acquiesced in as inevitable. The Squire had, early in the winter, called his tenantry to- gether, not so much with the view of ascertaining their finan- cial ability, — for he was well assured that Shine and Heffernan had worked so thoroughly that no one, even if able, would dare to pay, — as to hear any complaints they might wish to make. On this occasion he went so far as to propose a re-valuation of every holding on the estate, an offer which one and all thankfully declined, which they well might do con- * "Bastard chicken, from foreign males conceived" (Columella). In the case of our modern Sj'baritlc aristocrats not at all unlikely, if the morals of their mothers have b«en correctly described and reported. «'d«^nng that the Land Pn^ • • ^^^ doubt, because tt; tjr'' ^"'"^ ""^^ «« liberal n h to tlie full m- f^eater part of th^m , ^^^f^>~P^^t]y, no least in fho* . ® ^^^ year wmq k ..'"^^♦^^is. ihus Shine decl.rJ1*"°'''""'fP'-<'lific a writers Mr P ♦ • , l«le voJu ~tt ' ^«"'»'0rth, Earl o?slff /'"'■"'"''"> fl m "^r.. ?00 tPON THIS ROdK. character of fleecing those that have and of bringing all things into a sort of chaotic equilibrium, preparatory to the sedi- mentary process which must necessarily, in due time, end in another condition of overbalance and inequality. He had y<>t to learn that a firm administration of the law was incompatible with the programme of those who hoped by means of success- ful law-breaking to render insurrection chronic, so that they themselves, — having previously, scum-like, floated to the surface, — might ultimately be summoned to p.ct as doctors of the body politic, the Jack- Amend- Alls whose drugs could at least be warranted to kill or cure. Between Lady Blanche Desmond and Miss Eva Burke a •varra friendship had been formed, while Eva's father, the Hon. Ulick Burke of Knockmore Castle, was a warm friend of Squire Maurice and his consin. The two last-named gentle- men had done their utmost to stay Mr. Burke's hand in the matter of the evictions alluded to, but ineffectually, as th« hot-headed old gentleman had proof positive that the men t« whom he objected were f omen tors of 4^scord, insensible to kindness, and construers of leniency and consideration inio evidences of timidity and pusillanimity. " By God, sir 1 " he said to Hugh, a few days before putting the law into motion, " I know the spalpeens better than you do. I have carried ray forbearance toward them already far beyond the bounds of prudence, and even though, like som« of my forefathers, I should be driven to confront a hundred of the kerns with my single hand, yet, old greybeard as I an, I will not flinch. No, Mr. Desmond, my mind is made up: I will tolerate their insolence no longer." After this there was nothing more to be said by waj of remonstrance or expostulation, and the offending tenants vere duly evicted, among them being Dennis Hcffernan, who med four years' rent — one hundred and sixteen pounds. No resist- ance was oflered to the sub sherifl' and his bailiffs, althou^ in the case of the old moonlighter opposition of some sort had been anticipated, and the officer of the law was consideiably surprised when the door of the cabin yielded to his touch almost as though he had been an invited guest or a welcome neighbour. He started back for a moment, apprehending some treachery, but his courage returned when the voice of Dennis was heard inquiring who was at the door. The sub-sheriff, followed by his bailiffs and one or two ""^ii^ UPON THIS ROCK. 2yi policpnrien, entered the cabin. Hetfernan and his two sons, — l)oth evil-looking fellowg of between twenty-Hve and thirty, — were seated beside a turf -tire, sniokin^; the inevitable clay pipe or dudheen. The cool, calm demeanour of the three men, each sullen and morose by nature, while the senior was noto- rious for the part he had taken in a«,'rariHn outrages forty years ago, so influenced the oflicial that he seemed almost to lose sight of the business that had brought him hither. "God save all here ! " he said, for he was a Roman Catholic and, as far as he could be so consistently with the proper performance of his official duty, a very good Christian. "Faith, Mr. Moran," replied old Dennis, 'ilowly rising from his corner, " that is a quare blessing iatircly, coniu' as it does from wan who is ordhered to drive all of us toth ' divil maybe for all that the Squire cares. Well, well ' jure we arr all Christians together, so I say, God save } .. kindly ' a,n* let there be no bad blood betune us. Ai lah ! Mi Moran, 'tis 10 goo<^ n'*' rin' me t!»at bit o' paper ; sure I e-'ulu not read a icreed o' writin' at all, at all, an' 'tis the same wid the boys. T.*u-h, we all know what it is ye are doing. The S(|uire is after evictin' us, an' sure we must abide by the law. Yes, we will go quietly, for of coorse we know we are in the Squire's dfbt. But faith, boys, who knows but that toimes may be after changin' ? Who knows but we may still an' all pay his honour Squire Burke the debt we owe him, aye, an' wid the in^herest too, eh, boys 1 " and the old rascal looked signifi- caitly into the eyes of his elder son. Mr. Moran, being in a hurry to return to his own fireside at Coolreagh, was naturally very well satisfied with the Hef- femans, whom he characterized as law-abiding men ; so, having placed a man in possession, the sub-sherift' left the place, observing as he did so that the evicted peasants were all moving awa}/' in the direction of Inniscarra. It was — Mr. Moran thought — a touching illustration of the inherent sub- missiveness and docility of the Catholic Irish peasant, and the man of law felt inclined in his inmost heart to condemn the Hon. Ulick Burke even more severely tha.i he blamed Mr. Cat,or. The latter was an Orangeman, the son of a Soupei-, from whom such unfeeling, callous conduct might almost l>e expected, but the Burkes of Knockmore, though Protestants, were High-Church people, and by no means fond pf the memory of William the I)utchnmn, 292 UPON THIS ROCK. t i II A few weeks after the evictions the stable-keeper at Knock- more Castl " was horrified one morning at finding Miss Eva's own horse, a magnificent specimen of the Irish hunter and having a fine pedigree, lying dead in its stall. The poor/ animal had been foully butchered by seme one who had climbed ' np to and crawled through the ventilator at the eastern gable, and who had subsequently escaped by that way. Of course, as the ventilators in both gables were about twenty feet from the ground, it was evident that the scoundrel must havo had accomplices, and that a ladder had been brought from some other part of the premises. There were absolutely no tracer of the criminals^ and the Squire had to console himself with the reflection Aiat he had aroused and stimulated against himself the implacable hatred and remorseless fury of brutal men whose innate ferocity would probably stop at nothing barbarous or inhuman that might be perpetrated with impu- nity. A large reward was offered for information that would lead to the discovery of the author of the outrage, but of course no such information was received. About a month after the killing of the horse, certain cattle on the Cator estate were mutilated in a shocking manner, while scarcely a week went by without nocturnal raids on the houses and holdings of the well-disposed tenantry, many of whom were compelled by the direst and most sanguinary threats to swear that they would not pay the full rents due their landlords. Never before, — not even in the unhappy years between Eman- cipation and the great Repeal agitation, — had such a reign of terror obtained throughout the district. As a resident magis- trate Maurice Desmor.d was, of course, compelled to exert himself in support of law and order, but the measures of the leading agitators were so well taken that comparatively little good was done by the arrest of various persons suspected of having been concerned in acts of outrage and violent assaults. Acting as clerk to his cousin, our hero was not long in making the discovery that, at least in Ireland, amphibology and equivocation were practically as well-known to the mrsses as they were to the most erudite scholar in the moral theology of Rome. Despite the gravity of the charges under considera- tion, it was difficult to repress a smile when an unwilling wit- ness, with an affected alacrity, came forward to take the oath, and lifting the New Testament to his lips, contrived very floxterously to kiss his own thumb instead of the book- With * '■ The toi subject " Th '•'His UPON THIS ROCK. 293 the shrewdness and cunning so characteristic of the Irish peasantry, the witnesses often practised the most subt^h^rti- fices, showing clearly enough that they felt themselves Hwrally justified in availing themselves of equivocation and mental reservation, and that their maxim was similar to that ascribed by Aristophanes to the sopfiists in the well-known formula, — he ^loss' omomoch\ he de phren anomotos.* Lieutenant Wallace had spent his Christmas at the castle, accompanied by his wife,— -a good-looking, quiet little lady very much younger than her husband, — and their daughter Clara. The fact that the country was said to be disturbed made no impression whatever upon Mr. Wallace, for, as he subsequently remarked to the Squire, hv could not, so far as he knew, remember when Ireland was evvV reported as being free from disorder. In the person of Hugh's friend Mr. Burke tound a wholesome opponent of those ult\*a-Tory opinions which tolerated no middle way, and which attributed the misfortunes of Ireland ahnost wholly to the poKcy of yielding to popular clamour every " safeguard of the constitution," one after another, a policy inaugurated, affirmed Mr. Burke, on the 13th of April, 1829, when the King of England was prevailed upon to assent to a measure promoted by the vilest artifice and most nefarious methods. Whenever they mel, — which of course was not seldom, — a warm discussion ensued between the two gentlemen, and Eva Burke solemnly avowed to Lady Blanche and Mrs. Wallace her conviction that these argumentative conflicts were of great benefit to her father, leading him to expend therein energies which might otherwise be manifested in some ill-judged act of retaliation against those whom he suspected of being at the bottom of all the outrages by which the district had been disgraced. One evening in January there sat with Mr. Burke around the hospitable table in what was styled the punch room at Knockmore, — a small apartment to which the genial host often retired with his cronies after dinner, — Squire Maurice, our hero. Lieutenant Wallace, Dick Furlong, and the district- inspector of police, Mr. Tyacke. The morning's post had brought a threatening letter to Furlong, filled with ungram- matical, but none the less forcible denunciations of vengeance upon him and his unless the rents of the cottages near the i' (I; li t ■ ^"The tongue it bath sworn, but the mind is unsworn." See on thi4 I jubject " Thcologia Moralis S, Alphonsi de LlRorlo," passim. Uf 294 UPON THIS ROOK. Hi -Ml \ mills were lowered within a month. The honest miller, Dick's fatbM> was a peace-loving, timorous man who, under the in- fluenftt of his apprehensions, would have immediately notified his mill operatives that he was willing to meet them half waj in an amicable spirit. His son, however, whose reputation for couragA had fallen considerably since the affair at the fox-hunt, thought the occasion a favourable one for rehabilitating his character among the gentry, among whom he had been seldom seen during many months. Therefore Dick blustered a little over the letter, indignantly protested against the poltroonery of yielding to threats which might have, — as he fervently hoped was the fact, — emanated from the mischief-loving brain of some local shaughran, and ultimately betook himself to the police-station at Inniscarra, where he laid the minatory missive before the district-inspector. This officer was by no means inclined to make light of the letter, which, however uncouth of phrase and contemptuous of grammar, was never- theless written in a clear hand, — not such a handwriting, thought Mr. Tyacke, as that of the ordinary peasant. There was, moreover, by way of signature, a not unskilful delinea* tion of a coffin, and the usual skull and crossed bones, known throughout Ireland as a " raw head and bloody-bones," — a signature significant enough to an imaginative mind. The police officer at once saw that the handwriting might eventually lead to the discovery of the writer, and he at once advised Furlong to consent to his bringing the matter under the notice of the nearest justice of the peace. To this proposal Dick having readily agreed, they proceeded to Carrig Desmond to consult with the Squire. Having read the letter the magis- trate gave it as his opinion that it really was a genuine threat- ening letter. " I am quite of your opinion, Tyacke," he said, "that this may become the means of unearthing the instigators of much of the mischief perpetrated of late. Suppose we drive over to Knockmore, — my cousin and Lieutenant Wallace are there to-day, — and hear Burke's opinion 1 You can then lay an in- formation, Dick, my boy, after which Tyucke will be free to act according to his judgment." "Just as you please, Squire," said Dick ; " I have done my duty in the matter so far, and I am not disposed to allow tiie rascal to think he has terrified us. There are only two of us Ht home, however,- -father and myself, so perhaps it would UPON THIS ROCK. 205 be as well \i the ilispector could station one or two of his men in the house. Of course, 1 am not afraid, but father is an old man and — " " Never fear, Mr. Furl6ng," said t!ie inspector, "that shall lie seen to all in good time. I think if they make up their minds to do you an injury, they will probably try to fire the mills, but it's likely that we shall spoil their sport this time." " Precisely so," observed the Squire, " forewarned is fore- armed, you know, Dick. But let us be off, for here are the horses." " Business of importance, eh 1 " said the Hon. Ulick Burke, to Squire Maurice, on the arrival of the party at Knock more. " Hang me if I attempt to transact business of any kind im- mediately before dinner ! " and the old gentleman was as good as his word. In the drawing-room tliey found Hugh Des- mond, the Lieutenant, an army officer from Kildare, and the Protestant rector of Knockmore. The ladies present were the Hon. Mrs. Burke, — a very dignified, stately old lady of the l)lood of the Geraldines, — her daughter Eva, Miss Amy Cator, and Mrs. Powis, the rector's wife. Dinner had already been announced, and as the new-comers had only to be made known to the military man, in a few minutes the party duly filed off toward the dining-room. The dinner was somewhat formal and sober, the army man, — who was Miss Cator's cousin, — stolidly resisting any attempt to draw him out upon any sub- ject whatever. When it was over, of course the magisterial business had to be attended to, so that only two of the gen- tlemen, each representing militant bodies, — the church and the army, — rejoined the ladies, because Mr. Wallace was always asked to participate in such councils. Justice having been done to the Knockmore punch, the object of Mr. Maurice Desmond and his company in coining to the castle was duly stated and the letter once again in- spected and criticized. Dick Furlong, somewhri restored in his own good graces by the kind reception accorded by Mrs. Burke and her dai' hter, and by the evident desire on the part of Miss Cator to atone, as far as she could, for her brother's conduct, was in good spirits, and he even went so far as to express his conviction that the letter was nothing more than a practical joke. " No, no, Dick," said Mr. Burke, " I think you are mistaken there. It is probably a g«nuine attempt to scare your father I' M UPON THIS ROC*. m % ■ i|: :i • > 5 - V ■ !• f: into a reduction of rent, and therefore I should Im disposed to look for its author among the cottagers on the mills." Dick shook his head very doubtfully. " I can hardly think so, Mr. Burke," he answered, " because all our men are quite contented and comfortable. Their rent, maybe, is a little high, but sure he would be an ungrateful wretch who would threaten so good-natured a master as my father is." " By St. Kevin ! you are right there, Dick, my boy," cried Maurice, " for your father pays good wages, which they all know, — I mean his men do, — average the whole year through higher than those paid in the big centres of commerce. But ■who the devil would bear a grudge against the old man ? " During this conversation Lieuteiiartt Wallace had beeti quietly examining the letter. Drawing forth his pocket-book he took from it a dirty blue envelope which he proceeded to compare with the cause of Mr. Furlong's anxiety. Then he placed both papers before our hero, who uttered a low exclama- tion of surprise, while in obedience to a sign from Mr. Wal- lace the papers were laid on the table before Mr. Tyacke. The moment his eye fell on the soiled envelope the district inspec- tor was startled out of his propriety. Sta'^ting to his feet, and waving both documents above his head, he exclaimed : " By God ! gentlemen, 'tis the same handwriting. I would swear to it anywhere." " Whatever do you mean, inspector ! " inquired Mr. Burke, somewhat gravely. " I beg your pardon. Squire," returned the officer, " and yours, Mr. Desmond, too, but this envelope, just given me by your cousin, Mdll prove, I am thinking, the key to this mj^tery and perhaps to many others," and he handed both letter and envelope to Maurice, who held them up to the light for his own and Mr. Burke's examination. "You are certainly right, Tyacke," said their host; "it seems to me that the point is indisputable. Are you of my opinion, Mr. Desmond ? " he asked, turning towards his brother magistrate. "Indeed I am," returned Maurice. " I think, too, that I could swear to the identity of the handwriting on both." " In that case, we will take Furlong's information," said the eager old gentleman, " and let the police apprehend this fellow as soon as they can." ** Take the information as soon as you like, Mr. Burke," OPON THIS ROCK. 297 observed the more methodical Maurice, "there will be no trouble in that ; but first I would very much like to be told where this old envelope so opportunely came from." " From Mr. Wallace's pocket-book, cousin," said Hugh, "for I saw it taken from there, but I know nothing more concern- ing it than that." " Bedad : we are on the very verge of another and a darker mystery, it seems," said Maurice ; " Mr. Wallace, we turn to vou for light. Where on earth did you get this thing 1 " '* From Father Tom Cahill," replied the Lieutenant, with a mile. "Father Tom!" cried all the gentlemen una voce, "but do you know how he got it ? " the last question proceeding from the inspector. " T will tell you, my friends, if you will be patient," said the Lieutenant, who dearly loved to tell a story. " It was found last July in the jaunting-car by Tim Darragh, who can prove to your satisfaction that it was dropped therein by a man to whom he gave a lift on the Coolreagh road. Tim, who is not half the fool he looks and pretends to be, found this envelope on the seat a few minutes after the man got down, and when he got to Coolreagh he gave it to Father Tom, who, — having heard me claim a previous acquaintance with the fellow in question, — saved it and subsequently gave it to me. I, — being an Englishman, you see, Mr. Burke, — thought that some of you impulsive, scatter-brained Irishmen miglit one day be likely to find this old torn envelope useful, and so I kept it. Well, here it is with its torn address : 'Mr. Fr. McCaffrey, 99 Avenue de Villiers, Paris, France.' Well, gentlemen, you perhaps would like to know — " " For the love of heaven ! cut it short, Lieutenant Wallace," exclaimed Mr. Burke, excitedly, "and tell us the name of the man who took that ride in the car with Tim Darragh. Who was the fellow 'i " " It wa;^;," said the other, and he, too, raised his voice in the excitement of the moment, " it was a man you all know very well, — Pat Shine, the grocer at Inniscarra." " Damnation ! " roared Mr. Burke, sweeping Ijis glass to the floor in his excitement, " then all my suspicions are about bo be confirmed at hist. Well, Mr. Shine, I think we can trap you now." Wliile the old gentleman was speaking, and Just as Mr. 298 UPOW THIS ROOK. U' fii ■ M i Wallace was about to resume his chair, a loud explosion was heard and the lord of the mansion and the Lieutenant became suddenly conscious that a rifle or pistol bullet had passed between their heads and buried itself in the wall. Almost before they realized the situation the window of the punch- room was thrown up violently, and Inspector Tyacke, followed by Hu^h Desmond, plunged forth into the night CHAPTER XXXIII. IN WHICH OUR HERO LEAVES HIS COAT ON THE GROUND. AS his feet touched the ground, Mr. Tyacke felt our hero's hc!.nd upon his shoulder. " It is you, Ml". Desmond," he said, " it will not do for us to stand outlined here against the light, or the cursed rapparee will have another shot at us." Both men, therefore, darted across the terrace t the parapet- wall which separated it from the lawn and shrubbery. The inspector was on the point of advising Hugh to notice where the coping had been displaced when our hero shouted : " I see him ! tliere he is, making for the Plantation ! " and in a moment Hugh had leaped from the wall and hurried at his utmost speed in the direction taken by the would-be assassin. Mr. Tyacke, himself no less excited, also vaulted over the low parapet and joined in the pursuit. He had hardly run a dozen yards, whan tlie big bell of the castle, that was only tolled in the event of tire, or the decease of a member of the household, rang out a deep alarum, while numerous lights appeared in front of the grey old castle. The inspector, who was somewhat too bulky to run fast, saw clearly enougli that the startled guests and domestics were utterly at a loss ia what quarter to prosecute their exploration, and the dense, fine rain that was falling made it impossible to see more than a few yards ahead even in the path of the lantei s rays. Placing a hand on each side of his moutli, and thus forming a sort of speaking trumpet, Mr. Tyacke cried : " This way, this way ! right across the drive toward the Phmtation. This way, for God's sake, hurry ! " '* Is that you, Tyacke ? " — the inquiry coniinjj from Mr, Burke. V ^H\^" ■»W|lll»—W Upon Tins rock. 200 " It is, sir ; hut J can stay no longer. Mr. De.snioud saw the fellow and is ott' in pursuit. Scour the whole of the grounds at once. T must be off ! " and the inspector once more started otF in the direction taken by our hero. i " My consin is, I fear, unarmed, and we must not delay a moment," said Squire Maurice, evidently labouring under strong excitement. "We have a murderer, at least one in intention, before us, and I tremble at the thought of my cousin having to confront him alone. " " Yes, ye.s, there must be rfb delay," cried Mr. Burke ; " forward, boys, one and all ! twenty pounds to the man who takes the bloody-mindlfl villain ! Spread all over the Planta- tion, and keep yoUr ears open ! " "The rain has stopped," said Mr. Powis, who had been standing bare-headed all the time, "and the clouds are break- ing. See, there is the moonlight." "Run in and stop that bell, Powis, if you will," said Mr. Burke, " and re-assure the ladies. Tell them we are sure to catch the rascal," and the old gentleman hurried away after the others. Knockmore Castle, besides being so many centuries later in point of origin, was much larger and more pretentious than Carrig Desmond. In 1255, — hardly a century after the first Norman crossed the Irish Sea, — the castle was besieged and taken by the two great septs of the O'Byrnes and the O'Tooles. The gallant little garrison, under Hubert de Burgho, refused to surrender, for they well knew that Domnal Duhh, the chieftain with the mermaid crest, who led the besiegers, was the grandson of the O'Byrne who forty-six years before, on niack Monday, had massacred the Bristol colony in Cullen's Wood. Therefore, when the fierce tribesmen, — disdaining filike sword and arrow, battle-axe and partisan, — led by Black Domnal, swept torrent-likethrough portal and over battlements, tlie Norn.an Hubert and his Saxon men-at-arms invoked no clemency, but died loyally and bravely, fighting to the last. The fierce Domnal Dubh demolished the fort»ess, and when suljsequently another and a more fortunate De Burgho built for himself another castle on the pictures and threw himself forward, doubtless with the intention ci: clutching at Desmond and oi stabbing him to the heart. At the same instant our hero also aimed a vigorous blow at Shine, so that the bodies of both men came into violent collision, and the combatants fell to the ground, the knife in Shine's hand catching in Hugh's cont as they fell. Fortunately for himself, our hero was uppermost, and it was no less happy for him that the Agitator's left hand had been rendered useless, so that he was compelled to drop the knife and seize Hugh's collar in order to prevent him from rising. Neither of the combatants thought for a moment of their situation ; they fought so savagely that neither felt able to utter a single word. Desmond contrived, by bringing his hands together over his head, to raise the hammer of his pistol, but in order to do this he had, of course, to relinquish hia grasp of the other's neckerchief. It was Shine's last, his only remaining chance, and with an almost superhuman effort he succeeded in half raising himself thereby causing Desmond to roll over on his side at the very brink of the precipice. In- voluntarily, as it seemed, our hero snatched at the arm of the Agitator, which he grasped convulsively, the very ground ap- peared to give way under them, and both men went rolling and crashing down the rocky steep. As they rolled down the incline Hugh's weapon exploded, after which, so far as his own consciousness was con<5erned, everything was a blank to our hero for a period whose positive duration he never cer- tainly recognized. It Fifteen or twenty minute/* afterward Mr. Tyacke and Dick Furlong, — having rightly divined the quarter whence the shot 304 UPON THIS ROCK. ; I I '' it:. H m: it ill was heard, ofttimes a difficult accomplishment in a wood, arrived at the Crags. Dick having found Shine's knife on the ground, the men made a careful examination of the spot, and the experienced eye of the district-inspector soon detected the traces of a struggle. Ere long Mr. Burke and his brother magistrate, with nearly all their following, were also on the ground, and Mr. Tyacke expressed aloud his conviction that either Hugh Desmond or the miscreant whom he had so deter- minedly followed,— or perhaps both of them, — would be found dead or dying in the boreen beneath the Crags. **Do not say so, Tyacke, I beseech you," said Squire Maurice, "I will not suffer any man to tell me that my gallant boy is dead, merely because he thinks so. Arrah ! the light is good enough, will no one venture down the cliff? Old as I am, I will try it, if you are all afraid." " Justwaita mom'Mit, Maurice, my frlHiul," said Mr. Burke, placing hi- iiand on the Squire's shoulder. " You see, as Tyacke says, there has certainly been a struggle here. There is the knife, the blood on the stones, and the two buttons which you recognize as h!ivin;» come fiom your cousin's coat." "Yes, yes, but the blood proves nothiig unfavourable to my cousin's safety," urged the other, " for you remember that the knife Ty»icke found at the '^ree was bloody. The assassin was hit by Hugh, I tell you, but not seriously, perhaps. He has escaped this way, while my brave boy has started to find an easier way to the bottom." " God grant it may be as you say," returned Mr. Burke, " but if any man has fallen down there he must be either dead or dying. Ha ! Dick, why, that is brave in you ! Take care, take care ! " Dick Furlong had in the meantime divested himself of coat and boots, and, with some help from the inspector, proceeded to make the descent. He no sooner relinquished Tyacke's hand, after lowering himself over the margin, than he slid down about twelve feet on to a huge boulder, — that struck by our hero in his fall. Gathering himself up, and giving his heart time to return from his throat, whither fright had directed it, Dick cautiously stooped until he was able to seat himself comfortably on the big stone. A sharp exclamation from him induced those above to peer over. '*What is it, Furlong!" as W Mr. Burke, "do you see anything ^ " UPON THIS ROCK. 305 "I have found a pistoV answered Dick excitedly, "it has an ivory handle." "It is my cousin's," said Maurice turning away to hide his anxiety and even tears, "I myself presented it to him soon after these troubles began. This is terrible. By heavens ! Burke, I wish this had happened to me rather than that I should have to carry home the tidings. My poor boy ! my poor boy ! " " One moment, Desmond," exclaimed Mr. Burke, " we must not take it as certain that your cousin is killed. It is a bad place undoubtedly ; but harken ! why I hear Furlong talking with some one. Cheer up, Maurice, my friend ; the boy is alive after all, you will find." Mr. B'J •''■e was not mistaken : from his seat midway down the decliv Dick had descried the figure of a man slowly maJcing his way among the rocks and stones below. Though a sufficiently venturesome young man when riding, hunting, fishing, or climbing, Dick was no great challenger of peril 'M'lien it manifested itself in the proper person of a human Huemy. Instead of sliding down therefore toward the stranger, as he might easily have done now that the worst part of his descent was accomplished, the miller's son thought it wiser to hail him. " Halloo I " he cried, " below there ! halloo ! " Halloo ! " was the answer, " why do you remain perched up there ! Can't you come farther down t " " Who are you 1 " inquired Dick, somewhat re-assured as he thought he recognized the voice. " It is I, Lambert Wallace," said the other. " Mr. Furlong, tell them up above that I found an easy descent about a hundred yards to the west." Considerably relieved, Dick gave the required information, and almost as«oon as he himself was able to place iiirn>oreen. Nothing, however» was found except 20 I'll 30« UPON THIS ROCK. If:: \f \ 5,r ^ [-1 U'' Hugh Desmond's coat,— evidently cut near the collar, where two buttonR had been shorn away, but without any bloodstains, — and a rough cap of which the inspector assumed the custody. The boreen or lane approached the Crags by an easy grade from the point on the Coolreagh road known as the Holy Well ; and deflecting eastward from Knockmore it wound it^ way among the various holdings and past the many cabins on the estates of Mr Burke and Mr. Cator, being finally lost at the base of the foot-hills of the western spurs of the great Wicklow mountain chain. Diligent search was made along this road in both directions. Toward the Holy Well there was absolutely no sign of anything suspicious, but about a quarter of a mile east of the Crags wheel-marks and footprints were discovered. After a hasty consultation and collation of opinions it was unanimously agreed that it would be quite easy for any one, by skirting the rocks, to attain this part of the lane without leaving behind liim any trace whatever. The wheel-ruts, however, were plainly discernible, and the two magistrates at once gave the word to follow them as long as possible. " I am afraid," said Mr. Btfrke, " that we are merely track- hig Fannin's old potato-cart, but all the same we will go on." " Fannin ? Who is he ? — a aui anger ? " inquired Maurice. " The man I put in charge of Heffernan's place," replied Mr. Burke. *' He is a quiet, steady fellow, in whose honesty I have perfect confidence." " Yes," said Mr. Wallace, " but it does seem strange that these tracks should either begin or end just here. Depend upon it we are doing well to follow them up." " If it be Fannin's cart," observed Mr. Burke, " we have not far to go, for yonder is Heffernan's, as it is called ; yes, and by heaven ! there is the very cart wo have been looking for." An examination of the rude vehicle revealed nothing more important than that it had been used within the hour, for tlie mud on the felloes was not even incrusted. This discovery, however, was surpassed by that made by the district inspector, who upon entering the cabin with a lantern found the tem- porary incumbent lying bound and gagged upon his own bed. Mr. Tyacke's exclaniation of surprise brought the whole body pf searchers to the hou.se, and as soon as the man had bee. (inljound Mr. Buvke instituted 9, for;uaI investigation, of which UPON THIS ROCK, 307 tlie police officer took notes in a very official-looking book, which Fannin appeared to regard with some distrust. '* Bedad, your honour/' he answered upon the first question l^ei.tg put to him, " my limbs are that cramped wid the tying ] got that I can hardly move at all, at all, an' my t'roat is that dhry wid the rag that dirty divil forced into my mouth, — bad 'cess to him for his manners ! say I, — that if any av the gintlemen have a flask of potheen wid ye, maybe I might be favou'^d wid a taste." The poor fellow had clearly enough endured much discom- fort, and all present were annoyed when it was found that no such ready means of relief as that suggested was procurable. " Confound it all ! " cried the Squire of Knockmore irrit- ably, " if we were a company of priests and parsons we should have been better furnished. Fannin, you must do your best, my boy, without the whiskey. Come, cheer up ! Faith, when we get } e down to the castle ye may get what ye like from the butler." •' Thank your honour ! sure I know that too ; but, gintle- men, for the love of the Blessed Mother I must have a dhrink. Arrah, sir," said the man, turning to the Lieutenant, whose kindly look of sympathy perhaps attracted his notice, " thrre is a shelf there in the comer beyant the chimney." "Yes, yes, my man, there is : I see it," ** Well, sir," continued Fannin, " an' do ye see a tajrpot there widout a handle to it ? Sure, — Holy Mary, how dhry my t'roat is ! — if ye will give me the taypo^, maybe I may find a small dhrop o' potheen in it ; sure I used to kape a toothful in the house for physic," Lieutenant Wallace having done as he was requested, Fan- nin demonstrated the extremity of his thirst «y forthwith swallowing nearly half a pint of undiluted whiskey. Mr. Tyaeke laughed, and said : " After that. Squire, you will find he can talk well enough. Pveniember, Fannin, your statement will afterwards be taken upon oath." All that could be learned from the man, however, was that slioi tly after sunset four men, three with bliickened faces and one with a mask, had entered the cabin and tied and gagged hira almost without a word. Each of these me i, he averred, carried a gun or a rifle, and after securing him they proceeded, as Fannin concluded from the sounds, to fasten his own horse ml 308 tPOM THIS ROCK. i< to the o»rt. la a very short time he heard them departing, although he was convinced that one of them must have been left behind, because the smell of tobacco smoke was after- ward often perceptiblg. " Yes," said Mr. Burke, *' but do you think you recognized any of these men 1 Let me tell you that I have good grounds for suspecting their identity. Did you recognize any of them f " Wisha ! Mr. Burke," replied Fannin in a half whining, half deprecatory tone, " does your honour think I could find thim out under their black skins and disguises 1 Bedad, your lionour, if the boys heered that I informed against thim it's murdhered I'd be widin a week. But^ your honour, I assure ye that I do net recognize thim, — not any one of them at all, at all.'* ^*Do not," inquired Maurice Desmond, struck with the man's evident fear of the moonlighters, " do not recognize them, Fannin ? Of course not, because they are not here. But did you recognize any of them while they were in your cabin) Speak out, like a true man." "Upon my soul. Squire ! " cried the man, turning to Mr Burke, "I nayther recognized them by their looks nor their voioes, ayther inside or outside of my cabin : nayther wlii they went away nor whin they kem back again." " Came back again 1 " asked the Lieutenant, •' why, did the) return 1 " " Of course they did," said Mr. Burke, somewhat testily ; "surely, Mr. Wallace, you do not think that the cart trundled itself up the hill, do you ? And how long since you last heard them, Fannin, eh ? " "Betune an hour and an hour and a half, your honour," said the man, now answering readily enough, and without am- phibology, " and sure I think some of them must have been badly hurt, for I heered wan of them say ' Are they dead, think ye ? ' and another voice answered, ' Bedad, it looks loike it, but we have no toime to look or for discoorsin'.' And that, Mr. Burke, is the last I heered until the insp^cthor and your honour's frinds kem up the hill." Very earnestly and assiduously the ground about the cabin was searched and examined for further traces of the moon- lighters. Not even the faintest sign, however, could be dis- 1 covered, and it was generally concluded that Fannin's hypo- 1 thesia was correct, — namely, that the scoundrels ftiust W^l ti»Ollf tHl8 BOOK. 30d depftrting, have been wftS after- recognized )od grounds y of them f ilf whining, I could find Bedad, your [ist thim it's )ur, I assure th^m at all, ck with the lot recognize tre not here. were in your irning to Mr K)k8 nor their nayther whi why, did the) ewhat testily ; J cart trundled you last heard your honour," id without am- lust have bien Vre they dead, 1, it looks loike lin'.' And that, cthor and your about the cabin ,8 of the moon- ,r, could be dia- Fannin's hypo- rels w**"*^ ^'^^ ha4tlMMnws tetbtreei somewhere in the rough heathet' beyond the enclosed land, and that consequently thay had, at least for th» prcteni,) made good their escape. Hoping almost against hop9 tbat hit «oiMia waa still in the land <^ the living, Maurice Deiunond aficompaoied the party bock to Knookmore^ and it wag. after midai|^ when he and hk friends bade the sympa- thetic household of Mr. Burke good-night. Inspector Tyaeke and Dick FarloQ|^ though requested to remain that night at Qarrig Desmond, pursued thttr journey to the village, the officer being determiBjedk h« said, to ransack Shine's shop from top t^ bottom before morning. As the two wound their way up the hill the Squire c- lid : " Lieutenant Wallace, I dedar« that I do not know how to break this awful news, but it has to be done at once, for see the lights there, — thisy are watting for usi This is the most painful duty I have had to perform since Owen died ; but I trust to yourself to look as cheerful and hopeful as you pos- sibly cajOi, or faith ! she may swoon away or even die with fright." Blanche Desmond, however, did neither swoon nor die. StiS and Mnk WaUaoe had passed the weary hours togetiier in the libracy before a log iire, each refusing to acknowledge even to herseU that something unusual must have occurred to de< tain the gentlemen. As they came up the old hall, (H*eced«d by Dan, Blanche Desmond missed the accustomed, expected foot- step* Sho met them at the door of the library, and as her eyes eooouatered those of the two men intuition told her that something had befallen her husband For a moment her heart stood still, but summoning all her resolution she said : " What has happened to my hushaud, Mr. Desmond ? There has been sem* accident, I know." They told her all they knew, omitting no detail, and both gentUmen and the Lieutenant's wife were instant witlt assur- ances that all might yet be well. She heard them all very attentively, and observed : " Mr. Desmond you must have the whole country scoured to-morrow. My friends, you sorely need a little rest, so you must retire at once. I will not believe that Hugh is dead until you can demonstrate it ; I myself will go with you to the police station after you have taken some rest." " My dear," said the Squire, " your courage is inspiriting. After all, we may take it for granted that the rascals will nut r: .: ■, t ' 1 ■ ; i ; t , ■1 ' i j i .i ':: fe 310 tTPOit TtttS ROOt. rouse the whole country by injuring my couila. We shall find him in the morning." Did they fancy that they consoled her by subh assurancea - as those? What would they have thought could they have seen her anguish when alone in her chamber? could they have known that throughout the few hours' rest they endeavoured to secure for themselves ere the morning's work began Blanche Desmond's agitated mind was distracted by imagina- uve terrors and visions, in which the loved one was portrayed as lying cold and bloody in some wild mountain retreat^ done to death in pursuance of the mazim that " dead men tell no tales"? ,-f i' f CHAPTER XXXIV. AS THB COLD OF SNOW IN THB TIMB OF RABVBST. 'XT EARLY a week had gone by since the mysterious dis* 1 \| appearance of Hugh Desmond, and nothing had been discovered that tended even dimly to explain the mystery. Every possible effort had been made, both by the police and by volunteer searching parties ; detectives of known astute- ness had been summoned from Dublin ; the country through- out many miles around had been examined ; but all to no purpose, the fate of the young man was unknown. Inspector Tyacke had not lost a moment in ransacking the house of Pat Shine, the only result of this domiciliary visit being the not unlooked-for discovery that the whilome grocer and shebeen- keeper had not been ui, home for three days, and the disclosure that the business, such as it was, had nearly a month pre- viously been legally conveyed from Patrick Shine to Timothy Prendergast " upon sufficient consideration." Dennis Heffer- nan and his ill-favoured sons had, it was subsequently found, also left the district^ but their departure had for some time been anticipated, as it was well known that they had long ago determined to transfer themselves and their fortunes to the United States of America. During all this period of anxiety Maurice Desmdnd found unspeakable comfort in the unwavering confidence shown by Lady Blanche that sooner or later the lost one, her husband, would be restored in safety to his wife and friends. By a kind of beneficial contagion this hopefulness, had spread to I ^n UPON THIS ROCK. 311 hkll eti irancea By have ey have ivoured began magina- >rtrayed at, done 1 tell no Esrr. rious dis- had been mystery. K)lice and n astnte- through- all to no Inspector ise of Pat ig the not shebeen- jisclosure lonth pre- . Timothy Lis Heifer- ily found, •me time had long >rtune8 to ind found I shown by husband, Ids. By a 1 spread to Mr. Wallace, who, arden« in all things, scarcely allowed the Squire sufficient opportunity to lament, so eager and active was he in devising and superintending the fulfilment of a succession of exploration schemes remarkable alike for their ingenuity and comprehensiveness. '* It seems to me, Father Tom," said the Squire to the &d'\ roinistrator, who had driven over to the castle early in the afternoon to make his customary inquiry whether any din- covery had been made, " it seems to me that our poor boy has been spirited away and perhaps foully murdered. Yet his wife bears up wonderfully, and sets us all a noble example. Mrs. Wallace tells me that when Lady Blanche is alone she often breaks completely down, — you know that women have a keener insight and more discernment in such things than wc have,— but I assure you that she inspires us all and encourages us to exert ourselves hopefully. Tyacke, however, was here this morning, and he says that the police can do nothing more, that they have no clue to the whereabouts of Shine or the Heffemans. Ah, Tom ! it seems that the family is to die out. I can truly say that ray cousin has grown as dear to my heart as my own son ever was. Depend upon it, Tom, unless we iind him soon Blanche will break down suddenly, while if we find that he has been murdered the shock will kill her. How- ever, if you will go in you will see for yourself, and Father Tom, perhaps it would be as well just to give a hint that she ought to be prepared for the worst." They found Blanche, Mrs. Wallace and Clara discussing a communication dictated by Mr. Burke to his daughter. The honest old gentleman meant to impart consolation, but his letter consisted mainly of objurgations of the lawless persons who had, he wrote, prabably added the murder of an innocent man to their other crimes. " But, Father Cahill," said Blanche, after explaining the letter to the administrator, " had my husband been murdered by these misguided men I am sure we should all have known f it long ago. I fear that Mr. Desmond and even Mrs. Wallace are only restrained by kindness from shaking their heads in pity at my unshaken conviction, which to them must perhaps appear like hoping against hope, although Lieutenant Wallace is at times even more sanguine than I am. But T cannot bring myself (o believe that my dear husband is lost to me so soon," ni i I ■ i . ' f V 1- r r I f\ j' \ V ! - . £ tj 312 UPOW THIS KOCX. The tears started to her ejes, but siie (yverotttne her enotiem, and Father Tom would rather have died than h»t« uttered a word to diminish the hope that sustained her. " We will hope for the best," he said, — and his rieh round voice was in itself consolatory, — "God forbid that ywi and my old friPnd here should have to endure an affltctfion so grievous. The terrible legacy of malice, hatred, and unoharit- ableness was bequeathed us from the period wiien, aa Grattan said, Ireland was * a squabbling, fretful sectary, perplexing her little wits and firing her furious statutes with bigotry, sophistry, disabilities, and death.' We are, it seems to me, all called upon to bear a part of the evil burden, but I hope. Lady Blanche, that you will not form too harsh a judgment of this unhappy country. They are preciseiy what we ought to expect them to be after so many generations of injuatioe. Even though it should ultimately prove that my dear young friend your husband has been harmed by some ignorant, undis- criminating avenger of some real or fancied wrong,, will you not try to remember the benigna oratio of that Sufficing One who said in extenuation of those who were putting him to death, ^ Pater ignosce ; illis quod enim/aciunt, nesciunt ? '** " I hope to be able to do this, if it should be as you suggest. Father Cahill," replied Blanche. " In the manhood of Jesus my husband and myself recc^ize in maay respects man's highest ideal ; and so, while I may not pray for their forgive^ ness, I could assuredly pity and commiserate them for the mental condition which induced the lapse into crime. I think I am able to control my aversions, a» I am my wishes, by those rules which I have learned under my husband-s direction and guidance. The teachers whom wa most value and whom we have been studying are at one in their condemnationof revenge as an expression of rancorous antipathy. Oh, ye% Father Cahill, I think I can say that even were the light of my life extinguished in the way you suggest I should be raindfal of the causes you mention. My husband and I have regardediiiiete troubles by the light of reason quae docet ei explanat,* and as a Rationalist I could indulge my sorrow without anathema- tizing the ignorant being whose hand had struok the blow. Surely, Father Cahill, you do not think that it is neeessary to be a Christian to bear misfortune with fortitude ? " ^iw^— ^— — — — wiw— ■■ I ■■ ■■■■■■■ „ t , tm I ■ — ■■ ■—» ■«■ ■■■!■ I m»i ■■ wwi^wniM! ■■■■!■■ I iW^ m i' J i • Po Omoiit.Llb. I„ c. xxvlli. 11, V90:i TBl8 ROC<. 813 uttorod a t you mKi Btction 80 I nncharit- as Grattftn perplexing th bigotry, flOB to nw, uut I hope, adgment of re «ught to I injtiatio©. iear young ,r»nt, un*8- ] Bg, will you iffering On« iing him t® nesciuttt ? * you suggest, ,od of Je8«« ;pecte man's heir forgive- lem for *he me. I think he8,bf those Erection »nd nd whom we an of revenge yes^ Father it of my life e rain^ftt^*'^ agai^dsed^ete anai,* and as lit anwthema- sk the blow. meeessary to r " By AO OMaaa, ny lady," returned the administrator, ** by no means. I well remember what Tully ■a3rs of tho main characteristics or attributes of the virtuous character, of the lofty, unconquerable soul in its magnitude and strength. It was I, my lady, who suggested the Ojffices to your husband as an ethical text-book, nearly a year ago ; but I thought it was only Maurice that was to be the pupil." ** Whtoh I Ausv been likewise, Tom,"* said the Squire, " and I luMre pn^ted much by the Sunday gathering in the hall' agitioat which Larry so violently protested in his first sermon after be left the eastle for the presbytery. We have all been pupik of my unfortunate cousin, and it's well you know tha^ ha has i^ready succeeded in making this time-worn old honae of o«ra a centre of light for many in this vicinity. But bene is L»sukenai»t Wallace returned from Coolreagh. Have you heard anything of the Hefiemans, Mr. Wallace, at the statiMir" *' Nothing, except that the Inspector does not believe they barve le£t the oonntry," wr. the reply. " It seems they have means of ascertaining such things. How do you do. Father Gahill ) Lady Blanche, his reverence's charioteer stopped me in the kail and urgently begged that I would say that he wished the favour of a moment's interview ' if you will be so coodeioeiuibng,' aa Tim puts it." "Oonfmmd the rascal ! " cried the administrator, " whatever can hamewftt" " That I shall soon discover, perhaps," said Blanche as she went toward the door, " it is probably only some well-meant suggestion of his kindly heart, for Tim is a great favourite of Hugh's." '*T«n," said the Squire, when the door had closed behind his ooiMtin's wife, " this terrible anxiety will drive me mad. There must com» a timo when she herself will begin to lose hope, and than, by St. Kevin ! I shall wish myself dead. It is suiprising how- superstitious I am beginning to feel, — an old maa Itike myself is, it seems, driven against his better reasm by misfortoaea such as this to fkll back on the founda- tions laid in childhood and youth. You know I have scarcely looked at Horace since I left old Trinity, but only last night I hapfMsned to opMi a book on the library tabi«, and my eye fell it, onoe oa » moat lugubrious passage of Hannibal's prediction oonosMdbg Romsk I could not help applyii^ i\t to my ouasia, iri dU tPON tUtB ftOCfe. to whom I h«Te so long looked m the perpetttator and prob- able restorer of our ancient race. " * Occidit, occidit Spes omniB et fortuna nottri Nominit Hasdrubale interemto.' * By St. Kevin ! I«m becoming so fatuous and imbecile that I shall soon be seeing tokens or hearing the banshee." Meanwhile, Blanche Desmond, having thrown a shawl over her head and shoulders, had accompanied Tim Darragh to the terrace. It was evident to her that the man was labouring under strong excitement, and she felt instinctively that he at least believed that the communication he had to make was one of importance. As soon as they were beyond earshot of the house, Tim suddenly turned and said : <* My lady, I ask pardon for being so bould, but I have a saycret for your own hearing." " A secret, Darragh '/ Tell me, does it concern Hugh my husband ! " " it may or it may not, my lady, the dear knows. But there is one in the grounds who can answer that, if your lady- ship would but see him." « One in the grounds, Darragh ) I do not understand you. If there is anyone who wishes to see me, why should he be afraid to come to the house ? Surely, Tim, you have not been drinking too much of Dan's whiskey ? " " Sorra a drop have I taken since the morning, my lady. But, my lady, I will leave it all to yourself ; sure 'tis beyand my arrangin' entirely, so it is. Well, my lady, I had just done a little atin' down in the kitchen, and sure, as I always do, I had filled my pipe for a shmoke when who should come in but Mrs. Condon, the housekeeper. Bedad, my lady, she likes to- baccy as the divil likes holy water, an' so she says, says she, * Tim Darragh, if you are after shmoking that dirty pipe here you will drive me out of the kitchen where I have business,' says she ; an', faith, my lady, I said I would prefer to shmoke my dudheen in the open air. So I kem out, my lady, and having lighted my pipe I strolled down to the stables to have a look at Molly, and then I thought maybe she would not be .1 ■ - ■ ■■ I - I r * " Fallen, fallen, all the hope and the fortune of our name b7 (be taking-off Of HaodrubaL" ^orat. Lih. IV., ode iv. 7a Vr%9 THIS ROCK. 31^ and pro1> abecila that ee." , shawl over rragh to the ui labouring f that he at to make was 1 earshot of )ut I have a mHugh my knows. But . if your lady- tlerstand you. should he be lave not been ing, my lady, e 'tis beyand had just done [ always do, I d come in but she likes to- says, says she, lirty pipe here ave business,' efer to shmoke my lady, and itables to have would not be ) l> 7 Um taking-off afther refosin' a drink, — more by token that I myself could have looked at a drink just then wid pleasure. So I went to the ould well, drew the water, and went around the stables for a walk back through the garden, when I seen a man beok'nin' roe from the shrubbery. Howandiver, I see your ladyship is in a hurry, to I must tell you that this man is still there waiting to see your ladyship, if so be that your ladyship is not afeered." " Tim," said Blanche, " do you think he has intelligence — any news that I ought to hear ) If so^ I will ga" "lam sure he has, my lady," replied Tim eagerly, "the saints be praised ! I think he has good news ; but your lady- ship must go now and alone. Faix, my lady, I will go wid you as far as the shrubbery, — he tould me I might do so, but not a step nearer. Sure there is plinty of light yet left, my lady." " Let u8 go at once," she said, and accompanied by the stalwart groom she turned away toward the shrubbery. It was but a minute's walk beyond the courtyard and the stables, and she walked boldly on toward the little copse, scarcely slackening her progress when she heard Darragh saying that he could go no farther, and exhorting her not to be afraid. As she neared the trees she observed a man standing in the gloomy cover they afforded, — a man whose heavy frieze coat was almost met at the neck by the brim of the old felt hat which he had bent down to conceal his features. Blanche stopped at some distance from this suspicious-looking fellow. " Who are you I " she asked, " and what do you wish to say tome?" " I am what the law, the tool of the oppressor, has made me," he answered, " an outcast and a fugitive. Time was, my lady, when I was as innocent as you are, — but I h& /e not time te .tell the story. I have for years been what they call a dangerous man, too, and faith ! my name has for many years been pigeon-holed in Dublin Castle. Arrah ! if I am a dog, then I am a true dog ; I never bite the hand that feeds me. I am Dennis Heffernan, the man that you gave the money to, the day after we were evicted." " Heffernan ! " cried Blanche, *' is it possible ? Do you not know that you are being looked for everywhere ? " '' Whisht 1 my lady," he said, " it's well I know that same ; bat thev will not find me^ I think. I^et them say what ther in U< .i^Lk Ui <' 'l^'t 'k K I ' 3i6 VPOir TBI! «•». will of me, ladj, but I am not th« hovnd tlMjr KM llOfO to a wifty b« iKMmdtot chiag, tlw Mier in the tiis wM tbe hutbftiid, if him io «ii- btdrMkdfal did it, but leitti iti hit rettwAy to reiatotolbf dMike Mr. ver, ^Donnta itar M'pOB- \M tAfeoon- n«*y, for I •ee my hw- LoUimod tiko iM to as fw*» not b«tmy aais^-tO'drtwr eisvotstioh biicli»« iMiill I I ■ many-fold*d bit of pap^r. *' It is from your husband, kdv. You cannot read it here, 'tis too dark entirely. And now what message will I be after takin' to him, your ladyship | Sure I can stay no longer." • '^< " Tell him, Dennis, that I never before felt so happy As now, — that I have never believed him lost, — that I will be c ilm and patitmt until he is restored to me. Oan you bear all this in mind 1" •' Begorra, yes ; but niver another word, I think, ray lady," answered Heffernan. " And, Dennis," continued she, " if, as I fear, you and your sons have been concerned in the cruel work that lias gone on BO long in this part of the country, let me entreat you to re- flect upon ita wickedness and, indeed, uselessnoss. Instead of Btiengtiiening your cause you only injure it, while the demand for j ustice can — " " Arrah, my lady, you may be right," interrupted the old man, " but jiyself has nothing to do wid the rights of it. We are all agents of tliim who are able to bear the risponsibility, an' begorra they must bear it anyway." "And who are these responsible persons, Dennis 1 Who can these be who are able to absorb the consciences of other men ? " " They are the Nation Makers," said the moonlighter, proudly, " the Feis nan Erin, the JParlymint whose laws are carried out widout ItRi-coats or police. God save your ladyship kindly ! I thank you for your good words, my lady ; but sure I cannot expe<^t ye to think as I do." Sayiiig this, the moonlighter receded into the copse, being lost to sight almost immediately. Blanche Desmond also turned and hastened back to where Tim Darragh was patiently await-- ing the end of this extraordinary conference. " Darragh," said Blanche, " I am puzzled to know what in- duced this man to confide in you. Surely you, too, are not a menibOr of a secret society ? " " No, ray lady," answered Tira, " I want nothing to do wid saycrets or societies at all, at all. But ould Dinnis knows me well, my lady, in', sure, he is Katie's uncle by the mother's side." " Katie's uncle ? " said Blanche. " Oh, yes, I think I know ; you mean Katie Conroy, the National schoolmaster's daughter, do you not ? Oh, ves, I understand." f ■' 318 UPON TRIE HOCK. i 'if I' It was now too dark for Tim's blushes to b« soen, but I^lanche Desmond knew enough of the character of the Irish y e a a ant to know that nothing would have tempted her com- panion to betray the confidence reposed in him, while on his part Darragh also was assured that Lady Blanche more than •uspected his love toward Katie Conroy. She made no further allusion to the matter, and as soon as possible they hastened back to the house. Brief as her absence had been, her friends were beginning to grow anxious. She found the drawing- room door open, but before entering the apartment, she perused the little note by the light of the chandelier in the hall. It was indeed a message grateful to her anxious heart, a message to be received with gladness, although hastily scrawled with a blunt pencil on a leaf roughly torn from a pocket-book. The paper had been crumpled very much while in charge of the messenger, butt heedless of thii Blanche Desmond kissed it again and again. Throwing aside the shawl she had been wearing, she returned to the drawing-room. Her countenance, illuminated by joy, at once revealed to the Squire and his guests that she brought good tidings with her, and the old gentleman and Mr. Wallace sprang eagerly to meet her. "Well, ray dear," said Maurice, "you have good news? Is he alive ? I am sure you have news." " Alive and well," she said, the tears shining in her eyes as she spoke ; " alive and well. Thank you, Clara dear, I am not going to faint," she added, as that young lady sprang to her side, " but I will read you my husband's letter." " A letter ! " cried Father Tom and the other gentlemen, " a letter ! Deo Gratias ! " added the administrator, " I could dance a hornpipe in the Vatican library, I think." " Listen," said El&'^che : " ' My dearest : This is the fifth day of our sepaistion, und I can imagine your anxiety. I am uninjured, however^ -merely a captive. They will not dare to harm me, I think, and your receipt of this will show that even here I am not friendless. I hope in a short time to be home again. Ask cousin M. to bear in mind that my present safety lies in the security of my warders. The bearer of this will explain. Courage, dearest ! H. D.' " A hundred questions were about to burst around her, but Blanche anticipated them by saying : " Qous|n lt|auricei an/' iri^uds, I 9annot ex|»lain mofe th^u UPOlt THIS ROCK. M^ ilugh^s note doett his present situation. My woi'd is pledged to conceal the name of the person who brought this message, and I have undertaken that the pursuit shall he temporarily discontinued. You see, cousin Maurice, that Hugh hints that his safety depends on this. You will arrange all this, and we will possess our seals in patience until the prisoner is atliberty." "For the present," answered the H<|uire, « a terrible load has been taken off our minds, so we must, as the only course open to us, await further developments. Mr. Wallace and I myself will run over to Inniscurra in the morning with the news, while Father Tom in passing the station may just as well give Tyaoke a hint that we have heard from my cousin." " And be sure, Father Cahill," said Blanche, " to say that my husband will probably be at home in a few days. The only thing I dread is that just at present the police will be too officious." " Bedad 1 " said the administrator, " this is altogether a mysterious affair, but at all events, Maurice, your Hasdrubal is safe, so you may pitch yonr dreams and tokens, together with your sortes Horatiance, straightway to the ahem ! to limbo. I suppose, Lady Blanche, that I am not at liberty to put Tim Darragh to the question. Well, I too will be patient until my young friend's return ; but in the meantime I wisli I could find words to express the pleasure I feel that the Frid* of Carlow, our Carrig Desmond Lily, has not to endure a great affliction." " Thank you. Father Cahill," replied Blanche, " for the sym- pathy even more than for the compliment. Such blandilo- quence, I fear, shows that your reverence ha« visited Blarney Castle. I should be loth to tell you, dear friends, how nigh the poor lily has been to wilting lately." " All the same," said Father Tom, after the ladies had re- tired, "she is the Pride of Carlow, so before I leave this onld castle of yours to-night, Maurice Desmond, I intend to drink defiance to the man who will not acknowledge that this Eng- lish Lily is the queen of the parterre 1 " ..i-. • • • fi Jfi < 1 [I'i 320 UPON THIS ROCK. cHAPTEia xxxy. MBA CULPA ! MEA MAXIMA CULPA 1 THE Bun had just sunk behind the dittai w ridge of Sliere- bloom on the day of Blanche Desmond's interview with the moonlighter, when a man, enveloped in a shaggy frieze overcoat, was shown into Father O'Ruarc's room at the pres- bytery. The ruddy light of a coal fire made the small apart- ment seem cheerful enough t^» one coming from the chill, damp air outside, although it effected but little as an illuminating agent. As the door closed behind him, the visitor stooped down to the key-hole and listened to the sound of the old woman's retiring footsteps. Then oooily turning the key in the door, he stepped forward toward the little table before the fire-place, and removing his broad felt hat exclaimed, " Sin fgin!"* " tStn fein / " retur^jled Father O'Ruarc, who had not inoved in his chair since the stranger's entry, " your voice will be after betraying you to any man, woman or child in Inniscarra who may happen to hear it. Why do you come here, now that your cursed folly has undone the work of so many months? Do you not know that they are looking for you everywhere 1 that they will have you, dead or alive 1 " " Never alive, ma 50ggarth,"\ said the other, in a low, deep voice, and throwing open bis overcoat, he pointed significantly to the breast pockets, where the red firelight danced and flickered on the metal-tipped stocks of two large revolvers. "But why do you talk of my folly, and of my having spoiled the work ? Is there not a fund for this kind of ser^ vice, and is not a passage across the water made aisy if the bloodhounds are on the scent 7 " "I do not approve of such methods," said Father Lawren«i^ " and the time will come when the leaders themselves will dis- cover that unnecessary acts of violence are wojrse thitt criuMSi that they are blunders. I can imagine the nation being on the very verge of obtaining justice from England, and yet having to endure the agony of seeing the cup dashed from her 'Only ourselves," or "Ourselves alone," t My priest. tJtOII mis ROCK. 321 lipp wlie^ tboao who have undertaken to steer us into port are accuaftfJ of faring the rec T>on»ibility for such misdeeds. And you tell me now, Pat Shine, tliat you will not be taken alive. Faith, I do not know how that may be, but report says that the omadhaun who tried to shoot somebody in the punch-room at Koockuore Wis nearly captured in that way by Hugh Des- mond." "Aye, »ye, FiU^her Larry," cried Shine, "and let me tell you tliat report comes pretty near the mark this time. I ought to know, for it was I who undertook to hang around the party at Knockmore, while Dinnis and his boys waited over near Ms ould cabin." "Then it was you fired the shot, was it t" inquired the priest. " Upon my soul, Shine, I thought you had more sense. Here have I for months been advising you how to conduct the process of intimidation systematically and with little more than a show of cruelty. And just at the moment when I had written to headquarters that our people would never again pay full rent and arrears, you and the Heffernans begin to gratify your own private grudges. The attempt upon Burke I could pass over, although we are not quite ready to get up such scares at present, but the killing of that hybrid cousin of mine has done more harm than good to the cause. It has made it absolutely necessary that you and Dennis should leave the country, and, indeed, I wonder at your boldness in tMspt* tag your fate so openly this evening." "^ " But, Father Larry," said Shine, stepping forward into the full glare of the firelight, and pointing to the long black arti- ficial beard which covered all the lower portion of his face, and which waft certainly a most effectual disguicc^ " sure I think there is niver a peeler in Ireland that would know me. I passed Tim Frendergast down by the grocery, and divil a look did he give me, at all at all.'' " I aoknowledge that you can get yourself up pretty well, Pat," answered the curate, " but for all that., every stranger is liable to be arrested on suspicion, so your riak is great. You will find iik very difficult to get out of the country, and you arc the only reliable man we have in this part of Leinster too." " Faith," wid the other, " there would have been no need for me to hide at all but for that spalpeen of hell, Tim Darragh,'' and Shine told all that he knew respecting lieutenant wal- liuft'i ff^mpus diftcovery of the envelope. 21 ^' '4 1 fc ■:!■ V 1 f ; . ■ ' 1 :> : : ' ' 1 r^ '. -^ i t J !! I ' f ^'- l\ ll 1i::i^^ 1 ' i'i - ' ^ il! ■: ' ' ' ' ■t ■ 11 1 1 i; 1 i I' I 11 ll 1 322 UPON ¥HIS ROOK. " And you allowed such a trifle as that to driVft you OUb of your senses ! " exclaimed the curate. " Why, man, they could never have harmed ye at all. Do you not know that the Habeas Corpus has not been suspended 1 There are twenty men around who would have gone bail for ye, and yon would now be free from prison and from the crime of manslaughter. I will not say that I liked Hugh Desmond,— he was Anglo- Irish and an Infidel, and an enemy of God as well as of Ire- land's just aspirations, — but I never wished him or indeed any man a violent death. But what have you done with the body 1 I tell you that we must, for the sake of the family, have it honourably buried. I will have it so," and Father O'Ruarc made an emphatic gesture indicative of this determination. " Bedad ! " exclaimed Shine, *' that is why I have come here this night. He shall be honourably buried, wid all the Dal- cusiiians and Eoganians, and the rites of the Church to boot, for what I care ; for except he be buried divil another sthroke can I or others do for the dear ould land. But before he can be buried, by God ! Fdiher O'Ruarc, he must be put out o' the way," and uhe fellow dropped his voice into a harsh whisper. " In the name of heaven ! " cried the priest, starting to his feet, " do you mean to say that he is alive ? " " He was an hour or two ago, at all events, Father Larry ; but had it not been for ould Dinnis he would have been dead long ago, for dead men tell no tales. Heflernan insists that he shall not be quietened without we have your word for it, and I have to strike my colours to ould Dinnis sometimes. I have seen many a bould, steady man in my time, both afloat Gtnd ashore, and I have been in many a scrimmage, but I would tiot like to be the man to cross those same Heflernans without good reason and a sure backing. Wid a line of handwriting from yourself I can master them, but not without." " Sit down. Shine, sit down, and tell me all about it,'' said the curate, in a low voice ; " how did he fall into your hands that night 1 and where is he now 1 " " Faith, he is about ten or twelve Irish miles up in the mountains," replied Shine, "in a saycret place kno^n only to the old poteen runners. 'Tis but little better than a big hole in the rooks, but divil a safer hiding is there in all Ireland. He was not very wide awake when they got him there, — and, bedad, I was no better, what wia the fight and the tumble : but we have him secure enough " and the speaker in a few K UPON THIS ROCK. 323 ^ou out of they could w that the ire twenty TOVL would [slaughter, ras Anglo- as of Ire- indeed any . the body 1 ly, have it jr O'Ruarc lination. come here ,11 the Dal- oh to boot, ler sthroke 'ore he can put out o' ih whisper, ■ting to his her Larry ; I been dead nsists that word for it, letimes. I both afloat but I wo'jld iUB without andwriting )ut it,'' said your handH )8 up in the iMrn only to I a big hole all Ireland, here, — and, the tumble : er in a few words narrated all that had happened since the moment of uncontrollable passion when he himself had discharged his rifle in the direction of the tall shadow thrown upon the window curtain by the person of the lord of Knockmore. "This is the strangest thing I ever knew," said Father O'Ruarc. " It will be impossible to keep him there very long, and the risk is too great. Have you come here for my advice ? Well, Shine, you must get him to swear secrecy upon the crucifix, — see, you may take this for the purpose, it was blessed by the Holy Father himself, — giving him to under- stand the penalty of divulging anything. He must be made to swear before you let him go." " To swear, indeed ! " said the Agitator with a sneering, scornful laugh ; " sure, 'tis yourself is after forgetting that the man is an Infldel, an Atheist, and that your oaths and crucifixes can have no terrors for him. And, begorra, as to making him swear, or do anything else he has no taste for, why thin. Father Larry, the divil himself could not do that same. I tell you that either he must *>e put out of the way or " " Put out of the way » " repeated the priest ; " put out of the way ? Why, man, you surely would not murder him in cold blood ! If you dare to say " " Whist ! your riverence,** interrupted Shine, " not quite so loud, if ye plaze. I tell ye this, that if Hugh Desmond goes free I shall end my days in penal servitude. He knows too much, I tell you. I will sacrifice myself for the cause, when such sacrifice is necessary and the recompinse sure enough in the long run ; but hell resave me, — saving your presence. Father Larry, — if I am fool enough to go to Spike Island, Portland, or Dartmoor, out of consideration for wan whom I know to be an informer and a Government spy ! There, you have my mind, and sure, Father Larry, it's your- self knows that I mean what I say. If I am to be sould and given away by this spy, why others will have to go wid me. I am a pathriotic man, and a hater of the Sassenagh Govern- ment, but divil burn me if I am wan of those who pull chest- nuts out o' the fire for others to eat. You know that 1 have done honest work for the cause." " For which you have always been well paid, Patrick Shine," said Father O'Ruarc, " and I am prepared at this moment to ^ive vou one hundred pounds to make vour way eas^ acrofiti. fff-^ ■VP 324 UPON THIS BOOK. t . ' the water. At ' Madam's ' house in Paris more will be forth- coming, and another department will be given yon." " But I prefer to stay in Ireland, I tell you," returned Shine, " and the more so because you yourself have said that they can never bring home that Furlong letter to me. What the mischief is this imp of Scotland Yard to you that you should place his paltry life before the "uccess of the cause 1 Sure you know that they are not so squeamish elsewhere. You know that local centres are daily sentencing men to death for smidler raison than this." The curate did not at once reply, but his mental perturba- tion was made sufficiently apparent by his long and hasty striding through the room. Returning to the fireplace, he stirred the coals energetically, and as th« flame revived the Agitator keenly scrutinized the priest's pale countenance. It was, however, as impassive as that of the Sphinx. " You have often told me that story about the visit of my cousin to Scotland Yard, and of his being in communication with the detective that you and Walsh so cleverly eluded in Queenstown," said Father Lawrence at length. " How do you know that there may not be some simple explanation of it all 1 After you came back from London so hurriedly, and your Fenian friend was conveyed away so secretly, there was never any suspicion here among the police ; and, except that I have your own word for it, I would not have known that there had ever been a stranger in Inniscarra." '* Because you were then living at the ould castle," replied Shine ; " but it seems that I left Queenstown some half a day before the detective, while Walsh went on to Dublin and was in hiding there until my return. Bedad, why will you not belave me ! I tell you he is a paid spy, an informer : his re- lease will ruin us all." " The man is an enemy of religion, aui Atheist, and excom mnnicate doubtless," said the ecclesiastic musingly, as though debating within himself, " and as the blessed Pope Innocent III. has said, ' Faith is not to be kept with him who does not keep faith with Qod.' I have given myself body and soul to this most holy cause, and I will persevere in it until abso- lutely, clearly, unmistakably forbidden by my superiors. Nevertheless, I will not have this blood on my oMir days ; nevertheless my trust shall be in Thee, O Lord." t " Tear first brought Gods into the world." t Cratylus : Opsis es to ano, this " sight' or opsis being tke Platonic con tempiatfre heavMa." f Ji^* distin^ished from tke obso)«t* humbug, m :- i:*' : I 1 ; ' i 1 < '. 326 UPON THIS ROCK. ill ] 1 1; , 'i v.. -la . ; »'■ mi .-.Ml monia, the concentrated god-fearfulnesg which had been aug- mented with every generation of his race, compelled Father O'Ruarc to regard as bein^ specially directed toward himself. In his heart he knew that he wag thirsting for his cousin si blood ; like Pilate, he might by washing his hands make pro- fession of innocency, but how could he prevaricate or shuttle with the Most High? Oh, bow his conscience lashed and scorched him ! her those impressive words of the fourth Lateran Council burnt their meaning into his brain, — ' Quid- quid fit contra conscicntiam, eeclificat ad gehennam ' 1 Yes, lie was building for Gehenna, — his conscience told him that, and he fully believed that it was the Divine voice speaking within him, " a monarch in its peremptoriness, a priest in its blessings and anathemas."'*' Grasping with both hands the crucifix whose efiicacy Shine had so contemptuously doubted, the agovized and conscious sinner fell on his knees, exclaiming : * W her, O Lord my God, shall I flee from thy face? where i^hall I hide myself from thy anger? who shall restore irr; *^o thy favour? Pater, peccavi nimis cogitations, verbo, et oyh^ ' ! L\ .u culpa, mei culpa, mea maxima culpl ! " For some minutes Father O'Ruarc knelt in prayer, and when he arose his mind was occupied by a new resolution, which he at once proceeded to fulQl. Hastily donning his overcoat, he took his stick, and left the presbytery, walking with his usual energy and vigour of stride straight through the village on his way to Carrig Desmond. The administrator had for the third time drunk to the health, wealth and long life of the English Lily when old Dan ushered Father O'Ruarc into the reception-room. Apart from the fact that he had not visited the castle during so many months, the curate's countenance bore the traces of strong excitement, and the Squire's generous instincts at once assured him that his nephew had come to inquire after his cousin and to express his sympathy. "Welcome, Larry ! " he cried, advancing to meet his nephew; '• why, this is kind of you. Dan, another glass or two here. Lawrence, sit down." " Bedad, Father Larry," observed the administrator, " you have cljosen a late hour to walk so far ; why, 'tis well-nigh • Cardinal Newman, "Letter to Duke of Norfolk," 1 5, in which we find the supremacy of conscience acknowledKMl aa no other Ultra|ilron^Q9 ol^ain- dIod will erer agttin dare to aoknuwlud^.e it. tjPbn THIS nocK. 327 )r, and when half-past seven, t declare. Dan, will you be after telling Tim to—" " Wait a minute or so, Father Tom, if you please," said the curate, "sure, we will go back together. Uncle Maurice, I have called to inform you that I have certain knowledge that your cousin, Mr. Hugh Desmond, is a prisoner somewhere in the mountains. Lieutenant Wallace, you will do well to ride at once to the police-station, and warn the police. You need not mention my name unless they demand your authority ; they all know that a clergyman has certain sources of informa- tion which others do not possess." The curate naturally expected that his announcement would have both surprised and agitated his audience. What, then, must have been his astonishment when no one started or other- wise manifested any emotion whatever ! With a smile illu- minating his broad visage the administrator said : " Ye seem to have had a new experience as a confessor this evening. Father Lawrence, but you must be more discreet. Remember that this is not Italy or Austria, where the reports of confessions are sometimes required to be transmitted to headquarters. Par le cordon seraphique and the holy candle ! you have been after bringing coals to Newcastle. Mr. Hugh Desmond is safe and sound, and in a short time we shall have the pleasure of seeing him and of hearing his strange story." " All the same, nephew," said the Squire, " we thank you very heartily. It is just as Father Tom says ; my cousin is safe and sound, and there is not the least occasion to bother Tyacke and his men any more. But come, will you not drink something to drive the fog out of your stomach ? " " Faith, Maurice," said the irrepressible administrator, " Father O'Ruarc does not seem to be in the bt^st of spirits ; it mfiy be the fog, but it looks amazingly like fright. Bedad! I did not think he was at all nervous. However, Father Larry, my boy, if ye have seen the divil, take some good spirits as an alterative, and, if ye like, repeat an exorcism '' Instead of accepting the proffered hospitality, the curate waved his hand in repudiation. " Uncle Maurice," he said, " I have obeyed the dictates of my conscience by coming to Carrig Desmond this evening ; had I remained away my soul would have been in danger, it may be. But I will neither eat nor drink in this house, where, Its J ha/e reason to believe, the great Enemy of man haw ■ )i' i 1 1 328 UPON THIS ROCK. !,i! ru '111 established himself, aiid where venomovui darts have been forged and whetted against the Catholic Church, her faith and doctrine. However others may feel," — with a sudden glance of his black eyes in the direction of his superior, — " I myself oannot in any way do that which might injure the spiritual interests of a weaker brother. It is not for me to say whether or not this household comes under the anathemas of the canons of the late Council, but this I will freely say, that the holy Apostle warns us that if we sin against the brethren and wound their weak conscience in eating or drinking, we thereby sin against Christ." The boldness of this denunciation almost took away the Squire's breath, while Father Cahill, knowing how accurately his curate had given expression to the bigotry by which his mind was dominated, shook his head in sorrowful protest. Lienten^nt Wallace, however, rising from his chair, proceeded to liberate his mind. " Mr. O'Ruarc," he said, " that you were a very devoted child of the Catholic Church I knew before the time when, on returning here to visit my friends, I found that your devotion had imposed a barrier between yourself and your relatives. Until this moment, however, I always thought you were a gentleman. I regrt.:< to find myself mistaken on this point." "Dan," cried the Squire to his ancient servitor, "show Father O'Ruarc the ; but no, I will not respond in such an unworthy manner. Father Tom, take my nephew away with you or the odium theologicum will not prevent him from catching cold by walking out in the fog. Good night. Wirrastrue, Tom ! he has it so strong that it will all the sooner burn itself out. Good night ! good night ! " Whether or not the fanaticism now uppermost in the curate's brain was of too ardent a nature to be permanent this chroni- cle sayeth not. The erstwhile curate and patriot is now, — or was very recently, — a right reverend father in God somewhere in Australasia, his rapid advancement in the Church being doubtless facilitated l^ the conviction entertained among cer* tain ecclesiastical dignitaries that the patriotic fire that burned within his breast was only too liable to scorch and consume his discretion. In the Roman Church of the nineteenth cen- tury the possibly-dangerous among the clergy have nearly always been killed with kindness. Use but a golden bit, and you may bridle many a refractory steed. UPON THIS ROCK. 329 J. CHAPTER XXXVI. WHEREIN CAPTAIN MOONLIGHT SHOWS HIS TEETH. THEY called it Leaba Righ, or the King's Bed, beoause tradition said that one of the traitor princes of the tenth century, flying from the victorious and patriotic Mur* kertach, had taken refuge in this cavern, from whieh he ultimately succeeded in escaping to the Danish stronghold of Dublin. Whatever foundation there may have been for the legend, there could be no doubt that the illicit distillers of " mountain dew " were mainly responsible for the construc- tion of ths cave, — that is to say, the original cavity or hole in the rock had, by the persistent labour and assiduity of these defrauders of the inland revenue, been considerably amplified and extended, while mnoh ingenuity and art-concealing art had also been manifested in the direction of narrowing the outer crevice or aperture. The main chamber was an oblong of about fourteen feet long and perhaps half that in width. Tts roof or ceiling had been made as nearly level as possible, the conglomerate rocks l)eing supported by poles or props like those used by miners. At one end of this subterranean apart- ment stood a '* still " with its cap removed, the " worm " or coiled tubing used to convey and condense the potent vapour, and some kegs, ladles, and various other implements used by the poteen makers lying in somewhat picturesque negligence at the base of the huge alembic. At the other end of the chamber there was a low opening, or rather a doorway, indi- cating what was really the fact, — namely, that there was yet another and more inner chamber, capacious enough to contain the bed of a king or to admit of some hundreds of gallons of mountain dew being snugly concealed and kept, in defiance alike of ganger's eye and nose. It was probably just about the time when the two priests, on their homeward drive from Carrig Desmond, were nearing the presbytery that two men, — both evidently footsore, — ap- proached the Leaba Bigh. The older and taller man was evi- dently less Jaded than his companion, to whom mountain- oUmbing was a form of exercise somewhat too exliaustive to be exhilarating. ♦* Begorrt^ 1 Pinnis," nvic| the younger tr»veller, " however 111 1 I 11 330 UPON THIS ROCK. ■J M I 1 il^^ ( you can take your bearings here by night flummoxes ma altogether. And up among these hills, too, wid nothing but the stars overhead and the broom, heather and limestone undher foot. Divil burn me ! but I would be more at home on the Western Ocean in a jolly-boat an' that without a compass." " The priests tell us," answered Hefiernan, " that aich wan of us has his special gift from God. It may be so, but in my opinion. Shine, it is only a matter of bringing up and custom. Now, long years ago, — faith, it was just after the great repeal meeting at Galway, — I crossed Lough Corrib, and travelled on until I saw the sun setting in that same ocean ye spake of. It was a grand sight, to be sure, but it's meself cannot for the life of me undherstand how men can lind their way across such a waste of water. But as for the mountains, bedad, I and the boys can find our way among them in the darkest night, just as aisy as could Dermait O'Duibhue." " Dermait O'Duibhue ! who the divil was he, Dinny ? " in- quired Siiine. " Begorra," replied HefFernan, " he was the spalpeen that ran away wid the wife of Fion MacCumhal'', the great hairo who once ruled over the country, ages an' ages before the Danes. Fion pursued the sceapp over mountains, through bogs and across rivers, and ye may be sure that they must have had the good horses intirely to get away from such a runner as himself." " Then he was a good runner, was he ? " said Shine, thinking perhaps of his own tired legs. " A good runner ! " cried the old moonlighter scornfully, " is it Fion MacCumhal was a good runner ? Arrah, man ! he was the foremost runner and fighter of his toime, an' a giant into the bargain. Why, wan toime, whin his inimies were after burning his palace, he took his mother-in-law, — an' bedad, 'tis she was the heavy ould caillighe,! what wid aitin' the best and drinkin' whiskey galore, — and lifted her on to \his own broad shoulders. 'What the divil are ye doing, f Fion ? ' said the ould lady, as her son-in-law made her sit on his neck while he took a leg in aich hand in front of him, * What the divil are ye doing? ' * By my father's sword,' an- * Pronounced Finn MacCool, gentle reader. The old legend teacbeth that in ancient Ireland, as in " great Lacedsemon enclosed by niountains," there were women who valued a perfumed coxcomb more than tiohivalrons, piaguanimoua hero. \ Antfliee, »n old woman, a hag, UPON T11I8 ROOK. 331 )xeg ma ing but ; undher on the pass." ich wan it in my custom, it repeal iravelled ipake of. t for the ,y across bedad, I darkest lyT' in- leen that }at hairo jfore the through ey must n such a thinking ornfully, ih, man ! ne, an' a inimies Fiw, — an' id aitin' er on to doing, ler sit on of him, 'ord,' an- Lcheth that ins," there alrons, sjwered Fion, ' 'tis saving your life 1 am after tryin', and then ud' he started, wid the inimy foUying him wid their )iiorse« and big Irish wolf dogs. Three days and nights did he run without stopping, and whin lie outstripped his pursuers at last he cried Fillelue ! for the joy of it. ' Mo. her,' he said to the ould lady, ' barrin' that the back of my neck is a thrifle too hot,' says he, 'I would be willin' to try thim another heat.' But divil an answer did the ould caillighe return, because yu see she was as dead as a herri..g. Ah ! here we are at the Leaba, and, by St. Patrick, it's not sorry I am for it ayther. ' Nearly a dozen men were in the main room of the King's Bed when the travellers made their appearance. A few of them were playing cards, others were smoking, while one of Hefiernan's sons was engaged preparing a savoury supper over a fire in the furnace of the still. Little or no smoke pervaded the apartment, thanks to the ingenuity of those who had adopted so many subtle devices to ensure the secrecy of their illegal operations in> whiskey. Patrick Shine, throwing off his heavy coat, which he hung on a spike in the rocky wall, took one of the three-legged stools and sat himself down at one end of the long rough deal table, while Dennis Hetternau went up to the cook and said Bomething in a low tone and in Irish. " He is in the other room wid the gintleman," was the son's reply, also in a low voice, " sure Jerry is not the boy to lose sight of him," and the fellow lau'j;hed, a coarse, disagree- able chuckle. Turning away from his hopeful offspring, the old moonlighter proceeded toward the farther end of the cliamher. As he stooped to enter the low passage-way, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a look backward re- vealed the unpreposses-ing features,— far uglier now that the counterfeit whiskers were removed, — of Mr. Patrick Shine. " Hould on, Dinny," said he, " I would like to collogue wid him a bit, too, ma bouchal. Faix, it's the last dialogue I shall ever have wid the gintleman, I guess." Without answering, Heflernan again bent his htaa to the passfige, which was only about four feet high, and the two ineu proceeded thus for nearly three or four yards until the inner apartment or storehouse was reached. The light of a parattin lamp affixed to a rough tin sconce, which was nailed to the side or wall of the cave, threw a smoky glare oversi collection of small barrels, two or three tubs, a bunker or small 832 tPOW THIS ROCK. bodstead of pine, and the form and features of two men, — th< one being the hero of this narrative, Hugh Desmond, th« other Jerry Heflernan, the moonlighter's younger son. The latter was standing near our hero, who sat on the rude mat tress of his bed, and the aspect and demeanour of the gaoler indicated respectful attention and eager interest. Like other Irishmen of his class, Jerry was extremely loquacious, and being a perfervid politician, he was seldom at a lo in topic. During the whole of his captivity, Desmond huu been under the special oversight of this man, and the fellow 'h garrulity and inquisitiveness made the time pass less drearily than would otherwise have been the case. As his father en- tered the rough-hewn cavern, Jerry pocketed the map of America, concerning which country he had been makin^ anxious inquiries. " Thank you, sir ! " he said, " but here are my father and Mr. Shine, who seem to want a word wid you, so I will go and see how Con is getting on wid the supper, "'and Jerry left his prisoner and without a word to the others betook himself to the outer chamber. His position in the rear prevented Shine from catch' •» the significant wink of the eyelids which old Dennis exe( ' in secret telegraph to our hero. " Well," said Hugh, " I see you are here once more, Heffer- nan, and with that hangdog scoundrel too, whom I verily believe to be capable of any crime. Make your communica- tion short, whatever it be ; at least I may claim to be relieved from the society of thf ^ double-traitor, who has sworn alle- giance to his Queen and deserted her service, whose back even now perhaps carries on it the traces of the punishment inflicted for his treachery." It was not perhaps very polite on Desmond's part thus to taunt the Agitator, but our hero could not refrain from ex- pressing his dislike of the fellow, whom he regarded as being mainly responsible for the inhuman outrages which had so recently disgraced the whole district. "Hard words break no bones, young man," grinned the Agitator, " an' sure we ought to allow a chained dog to baf k. How the divil you know I was in the Queen's navy puzzles nir; entirely ; but I suppose a government spy like yourself has means of knowing such things. As to my desarting, faix^ T did so twice, and maybe more. Well, what of it ? Hure they UPON TUII ROCK. 333 hAV0 Ati Irish poet in Ameriky who took the Queen's shilling aud iwore the Queefi's oath, which he afterwards broke by becoming a Fenian. He was thransported to Australy, a chained felon, but afterwards he escaped, au' uure he is now a janius in Ameriky, a great man intirely, and no American despises him for having broken his oath. Arrah ! but why Ihj talking? sure all good Catholics know that one may swear to a thing without meaning it at all, at all.* However, Mr. Hugh Desmond, you will not be troubled wid my presence much longer : I am just here to inform ye that we have been ordered to put ye out of the way. You are, they say, an Infidel, — if so, I pity you, and I advise you to make your peace wid Ood, for by all that is holy you will never leave this place alive." Desmond looknd, — somewhat anxiously it must be acknow- lodged, — toward IfeiVernuu, who merely nodded and said : *' It is true, young man ; our own sxfety deraauds it. You see, we cmnot rUk the cause we are engngt-d in so far ai: to let you go, «' p ' !:illy since you hiNc refus d to swear to be- com« wan of us. \\'(!\vill put tiif natter before the Circle aftlior Ku;.]ua', but I mn ht)uUl O'.t no h.pc'toyou. If you li id on!\ minded yo\ir own bu-incss, maybe 'twould have lu-cn im^tUvr for ye. Howandiver, we will give ye a "Key of iitiiuon " oi- u "(Jill den of the Soul "| to moiTow, so that if yftVi V ili Nuu may die repentant, altiioui^h witiout a con feasor. jt-.Mii ;^ y«m a good night, sir ; come Phadiig avic." ,,iil-j|^|{.,i'i'us alone, our hero had amjle time afforded him to o^itHiiulx^e the ]o — iblo result of the deliberations of the t;J "' ;!i"0!i'! '•• iS concerning himself. That at least Jerry ^ I n.m was fairly disposed toward him there was no (i-'ubt in our hero's mind, but this favourable inclination could li ly be supposed to extend so far as the avowed good inten- I i lis uf Jerry's father. Youth, however, is s.nguine, and h VI. 'ud was, for the time, much more anxious to ascertain fium ih«^ old man the result of his mission to Carrig Desmond tl an he was troubled concerning the resolution of Mr. Patrick bli'ue. Secure in the absolute secrecy and concealment of their ♦ This, dear reader, provcih that Mr, Rhine, like his compatriots in prenerni, 1 nd I rollted somewhat by the moral code of Hoinau aisuistry, wliioh pays no heed to St. Paul's precept, ** Wherefore, putting away lylug, speak every niim truth M-ith his neiphbour." t CatJtollo i>£t^*x bookH iuscribed with those tltleii 334 tPOlr TStS tLOOtL 3 m lull t V \ ■ f tp i '■ ■ m ■hi mountain fastness, the moonlighters betook themselves to supper without posting either sentinel or guard. A generous portion of the savoury stew and a bowl of tea were set apart for the prisoner by C!on Heffernan, and old Dennis himself undertook to convey the meal. As he placed the dishes on the inverted malt-tub which served as Desmond's table, the old man said : "Bedad, your honour, I have seen the lady, and I have brought ye her message." " Her message 1 " cried Hugh, " where is it 1 let me have it at once." " Whisht, your honour ! whisht ! not quite so loud, and I must hurry or that divil will suspicion me. * Tell him,' she said, — and bedad ! but she's the real lady, — ' Tell him, Dennis, that I am happier now nor iver I was, that I knew he was not murdhered, that I will be patient till his return.' There, your honour, that's all. Bear up bravely, for Faddy Shine's life will be sacrificed before h. hair of your honour's head b hurt." Thus cheered by his wife's message and reassured by Dennis, our hero bent all his attention on the subject then before him, — that is to say, his supper. Outside, his gaolers and their confederates were engaged in a similar manner, and little was said while the meal was in progress. At its conclusion, how- ever, the plates and bowls were consigned by Con to a tub beside the still, the tin cups in which the tea had been used beitig suffered to remain on the table, evidently with an ulterior purpose. And now pipes were in demand and tongues were unloosed, and Dennis Heffernan, standing at the head of the board, announced that Captain Moonlight was present, about to hold a solemn council. " Sin fein ! " he said in a loud voice« extending his hand to a man even older than him- self, who sat at his right hand. '* Sin fein ! " responded every man simultaneously, while hands were stretched across the table and claspec* 'ith fraternal pressure. Tt was an impres- sive scene, typio .*las ! of the worst side of the Irish character, of that illegiti ate characteristic fostered and developed by centuries of injustice and race-persecutions. The ruddy light from the furnace danced and flickered across the board, and made the roof-props resemble forest trees or the clustered pillars of some Gothic cathedral, wliile it multiplied them in- definitely. Apparantly the place could boast no vther lamp 'T^ UPON THIS BOCK. 335 ^et to aerous ) apart limself iheson )le, the I have have it , and I im/ she Dennis, was not There, r Shine's head is r Dennis, Eore him, ind their ittle was Ion, how- to a tub _jn used with an tongues head o£ present, said in a )han him- led every [cross the n imprea- bharacter, [eloped bj iddy light jard, and clustered them in- [tker Ump than that which burned in the inner chamber, for Patrick Shine, whose dislike of darkness was perhaps attributable to his evil conscience, proposed that Jerry should transfer th« light from the one room to the other. Dennis having nodded Iiis assent the change was quickly effected, and Jerry, as he placed the lamp on tiie table, observed to his father : " Bedad, it was no use at all, at all where it was, for sure the youn;]^ man is fast asleep on the bed." This was, however, quite a mistake on Jerry's part, for at that particular instant our hero was looking through the low passage an interested spectator of the, to hiin, extraordinary assembly. " Brothers all," began Heffeman, running his eyes down the board, "you know that we have with us to-night one of our tried and trusted Munster comrades, Morgan Mannion, the Baccach, who was a moonlighter before some of yez were horn. Before we go any furder, I will ask him to sing us one of the ould songs, one of those that were sung in forty-three, when our hands and our hearts were ready, when more than a million of Ireland's bouldest were waiting the Liberator's word to rise and strike one blow. Wirrastrue ! brother^ that word was not spoken, for the drop of white blood, — the reli- gious drop it was, sure, — made him a coward at the last, and, begorra ! we and the world all stood stupefied when the man who gathered seven hundred thousand men together at Clare on the fifteenth of June, seven hundred and fifty thousand at Tara in August, and half a million of the fighting sons of Wicklow, Carlow, Wexford and all Leinster at Enniscorthy in July, was subdued by a proclamation on the seventh day of October ! Brothers, I often wonder how I managed to live through the shame of it, but I did. The men were there, and sure there was no lack of arms, — but when the soul of a warrior was needed, by God ! there was only the spirit of a lav/yer. Faix ! we were and we are a religious people, and when others, like the Frinch and the Amerikins, would be using sword and rifle, we fall on our shin-bones and say the rosary of the Blessed Virgin ! Liberty is not for the like of us, — but come, Mqrgan avic ! sing us one of thenar songs of our fathera." Thus invited, or rather enjoined, the white-haired Baccach^ or wandering combination of bard, peddler and beggar, threw back his head, partly shut his eyes, and began to sing, — at Jirst somewhat wMlingly, but gradually clwn^ng the ^ote to ) .'• 836 VPOir THIS ROOK. one of valoroQtftnertion and defiance, — ^in trifih TTie Voice oj Tara. With the exception of the unheeded prisoner within all of Mannion's audience understood the language in which he was singing ; bnt our hero did not, at any rate, fail to notice *hat the martial sounds seemed to exert a marked in- fluence over the assembled moonlighters. Their eyes sparkled with the light of the old Milesian rosg-catha or battle's eye, their nostrils dilated, and they clenched their hands. How potent under the circumstances was this spirit-stirring lament and invocation you may learn, gentle reader, from the follow- ing translation of some of the verses :*** .1 '^ " Oh, that my voice could waken the hearts that r .iber cold. The chiefs that Time hath taken, the warrior kii.^s of old. Oh, for Fion-gal, the pride of all the gallant Fenian crew, To wave his brand, the fight demand, and blow the Bar abu. ** Oh, for the Clanna-Momi, the Glanna-Deaghadh tall. Dal-Reada's knights of glory, who scal'd the Roman Wall. Oh, for the darts that smote the hearts of Freedom's foreign foe, When bloodier grew the fieroe Creev-Ruet o'er bleak Helvetia's snow. •h: " Oh, for the battle axes that smote the pirate Dane ; Oh, for the firm Daloassians that fought on Ossory's plain. And oh, for those who wrathful rose the Saxon to withstand. Till traitor arts and reereant hearts betrayed the patriot bMnd. ** Arise ye, now or never ; from heaven the martyred brave Command you to deliver the land they fought to save. Then swear to die ere despots tie your limbs in thriUdom's chain, And let the shout ring boldly out o'er list ning earth and main. ** The fishers of Kilkerran, the men of Greenore Bay ; The dwellers by Lough Dergert and by the broad Lough Neagh,- Leave boat and oar. and leap ashore to join the fiery ranks That come in pride from Qaltue's neb and from Blnokwater's banks. • For whJ"*! the chronicler doth not assume the credit, thn renf^ering belnqr by ail unknown hand quite half a century aKO. Theortginnl, however, is 81 ill to bu in-ard in the mmintain districts of tnosonth-wcnl. and thec'noi icier hath heard it chanted in Iridh even in the heart of the irtiporlal cii 3 the Thames. t Crobh Ruadh, the standard o( tbe Red Branch order. €POV THIS BOOK. 337 ^oice oj : within \ which ), fail to rked in- sparkled le's eye, >. How 5 lament e follow- r cold, old. ew, iT ahu. ^all. >reigu foe, Elelvetia's Im's chain, knd main. Noagh,- mki iokwator's lering bctn? liiowever. i» ,. thecal 01: " Where ituhboni Nuir is streaming, where Lee's green valley Where kingly Shannon circles his hundred sainted isles, [smiles, They list the call, and woe befall the hapless, doomed array That wakes their wrath in war's red path to strike in Freedom's fcay I " *^ When Morgan had ended his long and modestly received the thanks and commendation of his companions, the circle was once more called to order for the tranvaction of business. Our hero now and then heard, or fancied that he heard, the name of Furlong repeated, but as nearly all the speaking was in Irish, Desmond soon lost interest and betook himself to his not very attractive couch, where his mind, alternating between Blanche and a consideration of Heffernan's probable intentions in his '^'xvour, oontinued active for a time and finally yielded itself up to sleep. While he slept as soundly as though in his own bed at the castle, the secret society assembled in the outer chamber was violently agitated on the mattor of Furlong's mills. Con Heffernan had placed two large bottles of moun- tain dew and a jug of spring v^ater on the table, and it must be confessed that if the moonlighters' success in lowering rents were to be estimated by their diligence and ability in lowering the spirit in the bottles the prospects of the landlords would have been cheerless enough. In the especial and particular case of Mr. Pat Shine it was noticeable that his audacity and villainy became more flagrant and glaring with every ^lass of liquor lie swallowed, while his hatred of Dick Furlong and the old miller was apparent to all. With all the rough eloquence he could muster he urged that an example ought to be made in the oaee of an upstart family like this, and the debate waxed ao warm that finally old Dennis declared that if any action were to be taken in the matter he himself would not participate. S^ine eagerly availed himself of the opportunity presented in this declaration, and when it was vot^ that the mills should be fire(^it was on the distinct understanding that Pat Shine should conduct the expedition. " I will not) however," said Dennis, " have the boys go shorthanded on my account Here's Con h** been bending over the skillet for a weel^, — I wjll take his place for wan night while he follys your ordhers as captain, Phadrig avia Ye will remember, boys, that Furlong is just now undher pro- tection, and to giv9 the d? vil his due U)e 4iBthrict-ius^ector is nobody's fooL" 83 i I 338 UPO!f tHIB ROCK. li'' 'i f li tetter mis, with ipple as a i Would ,, too, wid jncd by a I their lids fteffenian, man now, it shall be hands." P,> "bedad, to me, ould kve the sog- » started up, 3r'8 lips the for Dennis itol, and the all who Hie n of hell, to I Captain iiterfered to that I TOUBt e not 8W0ri» low dare to angry chief, rror while he said, " sure, Ion. Let the me. Sure, \ -garth, bedad, mds to head itly uioUitJe^': and returning his pistol to some secret receptacle about Lis person, " lie corresponds wid those who are, I sometimes think, using ourselves as tools to be cast aside whin the work is done. But they may be desaved, — they may all be desaved; but let that be. I want this man fairly tried, because he is not and niver was a landlord, because he proved himself a man when he bate the spawn of the bloody Orangeman. I want him tried because his ould cousin at the castle is Irish to the core and a landlord that niver misused a poor tenant ; because we have only your own word for his being. a spy ; and because his own great-grandfather carried a pike for ould Ireland at Enniscorthy and Vinegar Hill. Boys," he added, waving his sinewy arms across the table, — " sure those i*ensons are good enough for yez t " " Thrue for you ! " said all present, even Shine himself echoing the affirmation, "thrue for you, Dinnis, let him have a fair trial." " Jerry Hefiernan ! " cried his father, " bring the prisoner into the circle," and the obedient custodian of our hero started off toward the inner room. As he drew hini.self upright upon enteting, Hugh Desmond, who had been awakened by the loud and vehement tones of old Dennis, started to his feet. " Is that you, Jerry t " he asked, as the light was intet'cepted by his gaoler's person. " It is, sir. You are wanted beyant there in the circle. Bedad, sir, you are to be tried before Captain Moonlight, an' it's meself wishes ye well out of it, I confess." " Go on, Jerry," said Hugh, " I am willing to face either moonlight or sunlight," and he followed the man out through the passage. " Guard the door there," said HeflTernan, as the men ad- vanced toward him; "Con and Jerry, guard the door," and the rtr«dy and cautious seneschals took up a position near the entrance oi the cave. " Stand there, sir," said Dennis, " or, if ye care to, ye may sit. I have to tell you that you are before the court of Captain Moonlight, as just a court as there is in all Ireland, though you will miss the wigs and gowns which belong to other courts where the poor man's cause is betrayed and the little he has stolen from him. Do you acknowledge our jurisdiction? — faith, that's a legal word, I think," inquired the old man, with a humorous twinkle in his eye. wmmfmmt^m^m U '^-{' Ho UPON tins ttOCK. W: i' llnlJ r 1^ I ■ ! " At any rate," replied Hugh, " I have no alternative but to acknowledge, your power, I suppose. That you are desper- ate men, pursuing immoral methods, I have no doubt whatever ; but you have me in your power. Let me know your accusation, and in self-defence I will endeavour to meet it." " Very good, we ask no more of you, at least for the present," said Heffernan. " Stand up, Patrick Shine, and accuse this man to his face." To do the Agitator strict justice, it must be said that he was firmly, thoroughly convinced that Hugh Desmond was a secret agent of Scotland Yard, of the Government, or, as he considered probable, of both. Very briedy, but clearly, he told of his meeting Walsh, — an old American crony, — at Queenstown, of their alarm at the too-evident attentions of a certain questionable farmer, and of his own rapidly executed plan of sending Walsh away to Dublin while he. Shine, under- took to follow the detective. He, however, had lost sight of the officer for a time, and, — actuated probably by his own personal apprehensions, — he determined to go to London him- self without previously consulting Walsh. Knowing the metropolis fairly well, he contrived to make his way to Scot- land Yard soon after his arrival, and it was while hanging around Whitehall and Parliament Street that he recognized the detective and saw Desmond alight from a cab. Subse- quently, as he said, he found the same officer calling at our hero's lodgings, and he was forced to conclude that in some way or other Maurice Desmond's cousin was connected with the secret police. " That is all I have to say," concluded the Agitator, " and I guess this young gentleman"- — oh, how he emphasized the word ! — " can explain it all. But let him say what he will, brothers, I would still an' all like to ask you if he does not now know too much for our safety ? Faix ! brothers, if Thamaus Dhu,* whose praises this young squireen has been after telling us in a book, were alive in Jigginstown Castle, the ould ruin in County Kildare, he :yorid not be half so dangerous to yez. Save this squireen and ye will all soon be wearing Queen Victoria's uniform." Of course, Hugh Desmond was able to clear up the apparent I^^^H^i^^fc— — 1-1— ■ I M^ — i- ■■ ■■IIB..I !■■ ■ II l»»l ■■— *»!■■■■■ ■■! ■ ■ * ■■ ■■ !■ ■ m ill III ■■■■■■■I— >■■ • "Black Thomas," the epithet conferred on the great Earl of Stmflbrd by the native Irish, who, like modern Separatists, wore skilled in nick- ntvnifs an i vilitioutiun. ^^ UPOV THIS ROOK. 841 itive but 5 deaper- rhatever ; icuaation, present, 3cuae this id that he and was a , or, as he 3learly, he srony; — »t itlons of a Y executed ine, under- )st sight of jy his own ondon him- owing the ray to Scot- •le hanging I recognized ih. Subse- ing at our hat in some lected with tator, "and hasized the mt he will, he does not brothers, if sn has been i^own Castle, [t be half so all soon be the apparent Lrl of 9tr»fl|ord CkUled in nick- myttery of his dMlingt with the detective, «tid he himeelf saw, or ihoaght he 8»w, that his explanation was satisfactory to many of his judges. The final argument of Shine was, however, a potent one, — how could they possibly release one whose knowledge was so likdy to prove fatal to themselves f This point way^rongly urged, especially by Morgan Biannion, and when theMfirages were taken it proved powerful enough to induce a verdict of guilty by a majority of four out of thirteen. Dennis HefTeman manifested no further opposition ; he appeared to acquiesce in the decision as a matter of course. " Prisoner," he said, " you have been found guilty of plotting against the cause of Ireland and against the lives of those who are suffering in that cause. You will, of course, have to die, but we will deal with you like Ohristian men. The day after to-morrow this circle will meet again, when lots will be drawn to find the man who will have to shoot you. We will give you a prayer-book, — ^you must do without a priest, more's the pity aUnna ! — and your last message will be taken to your wife by a sure hand. Jerry, take him back again, and be sure to guard weU the entrance to his room. And now, friends, the council is ended for to-night." Our hero^ while he did not question Heffernan's honesty of intention toward himself, could not avoid speculating on the probable result of any unforeseen accident, to which the old man's mode of living naturally rendered him peculiarly liable. The look of vindictive satisfaction that passed over Shine's countenance when the sentence was given plainly demon- strated that the Agitator felt that his own safety depended on the young man's death, and Desmond knew that his only hope of deliverance rested on the steadiness and uprightness of purpose of a man who was virtually an outlaw, bound by no higher ethical behest of conscience than that deduced by his own cerebration from the pimieval lex talionis — '* an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth." " By St. Brigidh t " said Morgan the Baccach, as the pri- soiier disappeared with the guard, " but he takes it coolly, Hefieman. Bedad, but I pity him, wid the proud brow and the eagle's eye. But what is a man's life, or the lives of ten thousand men, when the life of a nation may be involved f Hear me, boys and brothers ; sure 'tis your own Leinster war* long : I V III. I -i U i, U ! II, i:ii SI I ' j 342 UPOK THIS BOOK. ** Bondsmen, compfttriots, scoff of the strange^, Grasp the war-torch and the chaii^-braaking iword ; Or crouch, like hished hounds at the foreigner's manger. And lick the red scourge of your Sassenagh lord. *' Lo, thy proud chivalry, Leinster, advances, -' Wildly the Rosg-Catha swells from the gl^^ The dance of thy banners, the flash of thy laMet, Awake Alleluias again and again. *' Light your war-brands at the flame of Kildara, ; The Sunburst has flapped her green wings on the gale ; Take down the harp from the ruins of, Tara, And strike forth the march of array'd Innisfuii. " Sound a loud hymn, for the gathering Nation, Surging and murmuring, heaves like the sea. Sound, and full soon the glad harp-string's vibration Shall chime to the chorus of millions made free." While singing, the Baccach swayed his body from sido to side, while ever and anon he waved his. right hand by way of emphasis. Long before his chant was over the majority of the moonlighters had departed to their respective cabins, there to prepare for what was assuredly the mo^ desperate outrage and defiance of law hitherto attempted by^hem. Tbe.HefTer- nans, Mannion, Shine, and a couple of herds whose patriotic devotion may have been in some measure connected with the wage of one shilling a day paid by Mr. Oator to those who took care of his sheep and cattle, remained in the cave. They sat around the fire many hours, smoking, drinking, singing, and story-telling. By liis father's order, Jerry had provided our hero with a small bottle of mountain dew, water, and even sugar, " to aid him in keeping up his spirits, sure." " Right you are, Dinny," said Shine, with a chuckle ; " be- dad, I am after thinking that tile last dhrink a man takes should be stronger and better nor any he iver had befcH'e." (• Would ye dhrink on the soafibld, ma boucbal ? " inquired Mannion. , , ' . >i^q '* Faix," replied Shine, " I would if they would allow uie ; for I am sure that there is neither atin' nor dhrinkiu' ia the grave." VPOH THIS ROCK. 343 d; Ager, a le gale; .•S»y prate. Sure, I have outstayed my welkliu, I'm thinkiu', for who cares for an ould fiaccach now-a-duyH whin the Nation, the Freemun^s journal, and the Irish World can be found in every cabin 1" " Arrah ! Mannion," returned Dennis, " I was not wishin' to be disrespectful, and you know that no wan is more welkim than an ould brother-repaler like yourself. But I will not deny that my mind is out wid the boys, and that I am afeered they will not conthrive and scheme as oulder tieatU would do. ml : f i, ' ■ 344 UPON THIS ROCK. M :i ' 1 i ' il' ;;■ , ; ■>■■■ , J;^ ti ,' %:^. 1 ; : f i '■ i . '■'[ ■ r Twill be next to impossible for them to cross the Coolreagh road before dark by the Holy Well yander, and I forgot to tell Shine not to move down to the Well until the stars were shining. Paix, I would give a crown to have his hearing by me just for a minute." " Then why not send me down the mountain, father, if the thing is so important t " inquired Jerry. " Sure, an' I always knew that Paddy Shine was not the man to lead the boys on such work." " But the prisoner, ma lanuv, the young gintleman there t " said Dennis, " who knows that he might not — ^" " An' if he did," returned Jerry, -'if he tried to run, what would be the good of it t Sure you are stronger nor three of him, and well-purvided wid arras in the bargain. Besides, how is Ite to know that I am not here, or that the re&w cf the boys are not at hand f " " Begorra ! and that is thrue enough," said Morgan. " Sure, Dinnis, if you can spare the boy let him go, or troubla may come of it." For a short time the old moonlighter app^a ed to bang doubtfully over the problem, but at last he said : " Well, Jerry boy, I think you had bcjtter ? > to them, maybe, for it's anxious I am, an' there's no deny in' it. Be sure to warn them not to cross over to vae Well before night- fall, and to be as careful as they can Lj to avoid fighting the police." In about five minutes, the envoy had made his face resemble that of a Christy minstrel or an Othello of fifty years ago, and with an interchange of blessings in Irish he took his depar- ture from the cave. He had been gone about half-an-hour when Dennis produced a bottle of whiskey, cups, and tobacco, with the remark t *' Arrah, Morgan avic, it's not often that two ould stagers like ourselves foregather, so let us be companionable if we can. There ! " — and he filled the old man's cup with liquor, — " toss off that widout winkin', as ye could do in the ould days." Nothing loth, the wanderer obeyed the injunction to the letter, his example being followed by Hefiernan, and then their pipes were filled, and they began to smoke vigorously. After a time Mannion took up the thread of his interrupted reminiscence, while Dennis manifested the closest inter* st irt UPON THIS ROOK. 345 Coolreagh [ forgot to tUra were hearing by ther, if the n' I always the boy" ®^ nan there 1" o run, what nor three of n. Besides, B re*« cttht rgan. " ^re, troabla may I ed to hang f ) to them, juyin' it. Be before night- * fighting the face resemble rears ago, and jk his depar- half-an-hour and tobacco, . ould stogers lion-ible if we Ip with liquor, [do in the ould Jinction to the [nan, and then ^ke vigorously. [is interrupted It int4»r< ai i» th« proiy relation, taking the opportunity presented by everj ceesation to replenish the cup of the bibulous Teteran. Thej had been thus engaged about an hour, when Heffeman Mild: " Morgan avio, I am after going to look inaide there, just to see how our bird is doing in his cage. Make yourself aisy a while^ — ^maybe you will freshen up the fire a bit, for the air up here is keen to our ould bodies, — and then we will go on wid the talk of ould times." In the abeence of his crony, Morgan threw some billets and one or two small logs on the fire, walking to and fro with rather unsteady gait, — attributable unquestionably to the quantity of poteen he had already taken. With the charaoteristio cunnins of the inebriate, he had, — when assured that his entertainer had fairly disappeared within the low passage, -~ hurriedly filled his almost empty pannikin with raw whiskey which he drank off as easily as though it were milk. *' Ah I sir," whispered Hefiernan to our hero, " I can see by the l^[ht in your eyes that you are like a hunter before the steeplechase. Well, your honour, I shall be after going down to the spring for water in a few minutes. You must throw this blanket over his head and tie the ends ; sure he is more nor half drunk already. Here ; tear the blanket almost into halves, so that ye can tie it about the ould fellow's neck. Follow any sign of a track ye can see, like the Injians the boys from America lie about so much. About sunset you will be able to see Knockmore Crags, but as you value your life and all you love do not try to reach Burke's, for the boys are in hidin* in that quarter. You must find your way to Carng Desmond by the east. It will be a rough journey for ye, but it wiU be safe. And now, yo^r honour, I have kept my word to you, I think. Be sire to keep the sun to the right of yes in going down." *' Belrore you go, Dennis," said Desmond, " give me your hand. There ! Good bye, my friend. Remember that I shall always be willing to acknowledge the debt I owe you, and that if you are inclined to forsake this evil life I can show you the way and make it easy for you." " Good bye, sir I " returned the old man, " sure, I thank yon. But I hate this Saxon Landlordism bitterer nor hell, as every Irishman ought to do ; and I shall probably die fighting it. My humble service to your lovely lady : may she never know n (1:::: 3il tJPON TIUK rooK. ili:i I' another sorrowful uiiuute ! " Haying this, the moonlighter wrung Hugh's hand onoe more, and stooping his tall form be left the chamber. " Bedad ! Morgan avic," he said to the old gaberlunzie, whom he found nodding pipe in mouth before the fire, " 'tis better here nor where the youngster is. 'Tis not so cold in there at all, at all, but it bates all for the murk and reek of it. But Morgan nvic, sure we must be after filling the .ki^tl do y« know where the spring is beyant there ? " i,;.,, *.. i\^i .< "Troth, Dinnis ma bouchal, I do not," replied the other,. " or I would be after doing your pleasure. But sure you oaot go fill it yourself in no time." *'To be sure I will," returned Dennis, "but first I must- have a drop o' the cratur just to keep the fog out of my throat,".and he forthwith helped himself to a moderate dose o£ the ardent liquor. "Faix," he continued, "this is tlie right stuff now, the mountaineer's physio ; and divil bum ma but I prefer it to all the docthor's drugs between Dublin and Cork. Help yourself, Morgan, while I go down to the spring, but keep your ©yes open. I will leave my pistol wid ye, on the stool here ; but ye need not fear, for sure I left the prisoner asleep and snoring." " And how far is it to the spring, Dinnis avio 1 " inquired the old man, his articulation being somewhat thick. " Sure, an' it's not a minute from here," replied Dennis, *' at least, to a young man like Con ; but my bones are stifier nor they once were, avic. But I will not be more than five minutes, anyway," and, bucket in hand, the moonlighter left the cave. He must have been absent more, much more than five minutes, because at least that portion of time was occu- pied by Morgan Mannion in refilling and lighting his dudheen, helping himself to the whiskey by the simple process of apply- ing the bottle to his mouth and gradually elevating the lower end, and in once more nodding off to sleep l^efc ^'m tire. How many minutes actually elapsed ere r' ^ ' ,t predu ument was realized this chronicle sayeth not .organ's awaken- ing was attended with strong sympt of Strang' vtion. Having with commendable accuracy c "letail stolen behind his custodian and enshrouded his head in the blanket, Hugh' Desmond proceeded to twine and twist the rough strips like- surgical bandages around his neck. In fulfilling this part o£ his painful duty, our hero afforded a brilliant and most cou* < UPON THI8 ROCK. 347 onligUter [ form be jie, whom bis better n there at- ; it. But ,le ; do ye the other, re you oaa irst I Btttt^*^ out of my pate dose of his is tJi» n\ bum me Dublin and ) the spring, wid ye, on •el left the •{" inquired ;k. ied Dennis, es are stiffer ore than five mlighter left 5h more than me was occu- his dudheen, cess of apply- ing the lower ; predicament jan's awakeo- trang tion. Htolen behind >lanket, Hugh igh strips hke^ this part of ,nd most cou* elusive illustration of what Mr. Oalton and the Hereditists would doubtless term inherited aptitude, for the knots in the bandages could scarcely have been more deftly tied had the operator been Hugh's father or a Spiritualist medium in his cabinet. This task performed, Hugh, — mindful of the some- what arduous journey before him, — ^thrust the whiskey bottle, now much depleted, as far as posRible into the pocket of the well-worn jacket which Jerry HeflTernan had given him, and made his way into the air and light of freedom. Oh ! how delightful, how transporting was the change from the miser- able den, reeking with foul air and sepulchral dankness, to the bright, crisp atmosphere of the mountains. Throwing hiu arms aloft, our hero filled his lungs with the ozone-laden air, and theo, carefully turning his right cheek to the sun, he took his way down the scarcely discernible trail. ■11 k.;»)mt ; I,' • r " Holy Moses ! why, what the divil has come to ye, Morgan Mannion ? " shouted Dennis Heffernan on returning to I^aba Righ. " By God | the man is choking, so he is. Wirrastrue ! I can niver loosen these knots, I think. Hould aisy a moment, avic, and 1*11 be after relieving you. There ! now* ye can breathe a bit, maybe; but, Morgan, tell me, man, has that divil of a Desmond given ye the slip f Tell me, ye Baccach ! has he gone 1 " The question may have been imperative, but it was obvious that no answer could be returned until the half-stupefied old fellow was unbound. Hugh Desmond had while binding him thrown Mannion to the ground and kuelt upon the prostrate form, and Heflernan did not even attempt to raise him until the last knot was loosed and the blanket removed. " Now, you omadhaun ! " he shouted, " tell me all about it ; but hould on a bit, lot me see what has happened," and seizing his pistol he ran into the other chamber. He came out again in a few moments, the very image of anger and dismay. " Morgan Mannion," he said, as he stood beiore his companion, " I was a damned ould gooscheen and a fool to trust ye, though only for a minute. Bedad, you must have fallen asleep the instant I left ye. O Morgan ! Morgan ! what have ye to say to this? What can ye say, man, to the boys to- night ? What will they say of ye now up in the mountains 348 VPOir TKIS SOCK f!' n Ik 'i' 'f ' if!! ;!■■;. a. I I 'I where je are going t Fa«, Morgan, the harpem there, if there are anj lert^ will bredc the strings of the clarseack when thejr tell of how the Baccaoh was outwitted while sleeping. Oohone ! ould man, wh j did I trust ye I " During this apostrophe the poor old gaberlunsie stood with clasped lumds, the picture of contrition and shame. " Dtnnis, man," he said at last^ "sure it must have been the tobac^. I felt a wakeness oome.over me, and I remember no more until I woke up wid the chokin*. Wirrastrue ! that I should live to see this day 1 Ochone, ochone t but^ Dinnis, rare, there is yet time for us to escape, and sure we can find safe hiding away there where the big top of Lngnaqailla sweeps the sky." " And would yez have me desert the bojrs like a Qoward and traitor, Morgan t Bedad, I do not think this young'^Desmond is a spy, for it's well enough he explained his falHng in wid the Sassenagh lorgaire\ but all the same this means no more moonlighting for many a day between the Barrow and the Slaney. But why do I be talking, when maybe I may be after catching the maa if I hurry after him f Seep the fire burning, Morgan, and yourself awake, man, till I come back," and the moonlighter hastened eff with weU-fsigned eagerness I I I It was sunset when ov hero found hivself in sight of the Knockmore Crags and tW Plantation. There was yet a cou- siderable distance between him and Carrig Desmond, and he was weary and overwrought Prudence, however, warned him not to incur the risk m. discovery which would attend the resolve to choose the shorter course to Knockmore and thence in Mr. Burke's carriage to his own home. There was nothing for it but to descend into the glen and, by keeping to the east until he reached the river, follow its banks until the old castle became visible, although this would necessaitly defer his meeting with his wife until a comparatively late hour of the night. Before turning toward the eastern slope Hugh sat down on a large stone and watched with admiration the mar- vellous kaleidoscopic colour-changes which followed after the * Pst«ot(Tser wfij. ^¥m UPOV THIS ROCK. 349 ick when tlMpiog. ood with tbeenth* remember rue! that it, Dinnii, Bcsa find owMrd and fDetmond inwidthe It no more ow and the B I may be eep the fire Qome back,' deagemew I Bight o! the IS yet a coQ- ond, and he vw, warned d attend the I snd thenoe wa> nothing g to the east he old outle Ly defer his ► hour of the M Hnghiat ^ion tha mar- red after the descent of the sun behind the mountains. The brush of a Olaude or a Turner, — aye, even the mantipolie pen of the son of Buzi, of him who, dwelling among the captives by the river of Ohebar, endeavoured by comparisons drawn from such coldur-abundanceii as the rainbow, fire-tinged amber, and the heavenly sapphire, to describe the " likeness of the glory of the Lord," — A^ould prove of no avail to depict or represent the splendour of that western sky, alternating and quivering with the emotions engendered by the parting kiss of the Sun>god. Nowhere save in woman, adorned with nought beyond her native beauty, is the adorable loveliness of the Universal God, — of whom the cosmos partly envisaged by men is but one infinite attribute,— so clearly manifest as in such a sunset So evanescent is this sublimely magnificent phase of natured- nature that the mysterious mirror in which the glorious image is reflected cannot adequately reproduce it as a thought by the most subtle ideation. Even as he looked, Hugh saw the cerulean profundities cliange until the azure inlets grew ashen grey an'i the golden cloud-marom» became boases of dull-red fire, The glory had departed, and springing to his feet our hero started downward on his way toward the river. So long as the twilight lasted Desmond got on well enough, but as the evening grew darker a light rain began, which ere long developed into a regular drizzle. Nevertheless our hero struggled onward for hours, endeavouring always to keep the light breeze on his right side ; it was slow work, however, and the best-trained pedestrian could have made l>ut little progress under the circumstanx;es. Just as the drizzle was converted into a furious downpour, Hugh stumbled up against a sort of rough wall, belonging to an outhouse or deserted cabin, and groping his way to the doorless entrance and extending his arms he made the satisfactory discovery that the place was a sort of storehouse for hay and straw. Having divested him- self of the now soaked and dripping jacket, the thoroughly fatigued young man threw himself down on a heap of hay, and determined to go no farther until rest and a change of weather should make it easier for him to proceed. Ere long, yielding to the demands of nature, he fell asleep, but his slum- ber must have been of that character which is popularly asso- ciated with lack of substance in the victualling department, for when he awoke it was still very dark. Going to the entranofi of the hut, Pesmoiid found that the weather had sq .ti 350 UPON THIS ROCK. ir !.l • 1 II (t !'h tax improved that only a light watery vapour or mist was prevalent. He was about to resume his couch of hay when his attention was attracted to a glare of dull red light which suddenly shot upward and which was, he felt confident, caused b}' a conflagration in or near Inniscarra. His mind flew back to the place of his captivity, and his scant acquaintance with the projects of Mr. Bhine induced him to infer that the moonlighters were perpetrating some outrage at the mills or the house of the Furlongs. For some time Hugh remained watching this lurid light, but when the rain again began to fall in a steady shower, the young man, — who was chilled to the marrow, — retired within the hut, resolved to await with patience the return of daylight. He wisely buried himself to the neck in the fragrant grass, and in that situation went oil to sleep once more. Leaving him there for the time, I will ask of thee, gentle reader, to consider as briefly as possible the less innocent manner in which Patrick Shine and his mis- guided followers spent a portion of that night. Having been duly joined at the rendezvous by Jerry Hef- fernan and heard his communication. Shine proceeded to divide the party, giving half the command to Jerry, whose objective point was the flour mill'^, while he himself resolved at all hazards to burn the fine new house in which the Furlongs resided. That this plan, — especially his own part in it, — carried greater risk in it he was well aware, but for some years this evil-minded fellow had entertained bitter feelings toward the old miller because the latter had steadily refused to advance a couple of hundred pounds, or even to become surety for that amount, when Shine had set his heart upon extending his grocery into a regular drinking saloon according to the American fashion. The character of the night exactly suited men bent on such an enterprise, and they were enabled to enter the narrow lane and pass the Crags at least an hour earlier than they would have done had the weather been oleai . Arrived at the Holy Well they secreted themselves until the mounted patrol rode by, and soon after both parties, — each consisting of ten men, — crossed the Coolreagh road and took their way across the fields toward the mills. It had been arranged that the attacks should be nearly simultaneous, the signal to be the display of a light near tht> mill-race which flowed between the liouse and the mills. Tiif' ^ottai;^* of Mr. Furlong's hands stood a few hundred yards 1" UPON THIS UOCK. 351 <) ir mist ^^* I hay when light which lent, caused id flew back ntance with ;r that the the mills or ^h remained lin began to as chilled t await witli id himself to bion went otl ) time, I will 3 possible the and his mis- r Jerry Hef- Bdcd to divide lose objective solved at all the Furlongs part in it, — but for some litter feelings adily refused Bu to become is heart upon oou according night exactly were enabled least an hoiu »er been oleat . Ives until the parties, — each road and took »uld be nearly light near tlu' he ittills. '!'•'•' lundi-ed yaid-i ))elun4 t^e latter, and higher up the race and almost directly opposite the house was a tall tiled granary well stored with grain. The mills »lso were, very extensive, the larger of the two being aurrouk^ded with tall trees. The water from the race was conveyed by a trougli supported on trestles, and, hy ivn ingenious arrangement, it was divided again in such a manner that the two huge bucket-wheels were moved by powers nearly equal, the waters re-uniting and flowing through a cutting across which a small stone bridge carried the road to the main entrance of the mills. Jerry Hefiernan continued to lead his party across this bridge undiscovered. He had barely eflected this, however, when a swinging window or lattice immediately over the big wheel was thrown open «nd a lantern was thrust out. The moonlighters were all concealed in the shadow of the trees, and Jerry observed with satisfaction that the lantern was held by the ordinary watclunan, so that probably there were no policemen about the place. He waited for a few seconds until the window was closed, and then he himself ran behind the mills up by the granary. Having reached the race, he drew some well-oiled newspapers from his pocket, struck a match, watched the flare rise, and then ran back to his own stiition. He had just returned to his men when a door in the lean-to entrance not more than ten yards away was half opened, and a strong, buxom woman appeared, also holding a lantern. At that moment a small, wiry-haired terrier rushed out, crossed the road, and began to bark furiously. The moment had come, and Jerry with a wild yell cried — " Now hoySf/agh a healach ! to the door, to the door ! " As they ran forward a gun was fired right in their faces, the whole charge of snr M-shot whizzin;? by Jerry's head, while the momentary pause gave the defenders time to shut and iTolt the door. At that same instant a whole volley was heard from across the race, and this was immediately followed by two precise discharges of a similar nature. " By God I '" shouted Jerry, " the bloody peelers are up there at all evints. Break in the door, or it will be too lat« ! '' Like one man, the misguided moonlighters, with all their national impetuosity, rushed onward, and the frail door with its bolt and staples was hurled in like a broken packing-case. The likwlesB ruffians, now thoroughly warmed to their work, sprang into the mill. Half-way up the passage, between the ^^ •si-' i. ^1^ 352 Ul>Oll ttits tlOCilt. 11 I ^ I . y' 1 ! I > machinery, stood the Dight-watchman with his gan at the shoulder, while somewhat in his rear his daughter, with long, dishevelled hair floating around her neck, was holding up the lantern. The brave fellow pulled the trigger, and one of the Cator herdsmen, who was standing near Jerry, fell shot through the heart. In return the moonlighters sent a full volley through the building, a piercing shriek was heard, and the lantern fell to the ground. It did not take Jerry and his companions a minute to remove the dead man and to secure the watchman and the girl, both of whom were bleeding. " Take them outside, boys, and let them go, if they can walk. Hark ! sure, they are having a brisk fight up at the house. We must fire the mill and join the others. As for Jim Dwyer, he is dead, so ye need bother no more about him. God rest his soul ! and now for the fire, boys." Some time was spent in preparing and igniting the fire, and not until this had been done did Jerry withdraw any of his men from the mill. " Come on, boys ! " he shouted, " yez n^ not fear meeting any of the Royals. Sure, while they can fight behind stone walls them's the boys that will not risk catching cold by fighting in the open air." That this opinion, derogatory of the bravest and best dis- ciplined military force in the world, in whom the old Irish warrior-virtues shine with heightened lustre, was founded rather on prejudice than on sound judgment was made suffi- ciently evident a minute or two later when the moonlighters reached the open space between the burning mill and its sister building. The rising flames were just beginning to gleam through the windows, so that the moving shadows were barely visible. The miscreants were within a few yards of the second mill when a trumpet-like voice cried " Charge I " and a com- pact body of policemen, headed by Inspector Tyacke, came down on the moonlighters, who, taken wholly by surprise, scattered and ran each one for himself. There was no fighting, not a gun was fired, and not a prisoner was taken. Except that one of the buildings had been set on fire, the moon- lighters' expedition was a complete failure, Paddy Shine and his party having melted away as soon as they discovered that the police were in force around the house. Of course Mr. Tyacke, having routed the other division, took measures to sCour all the roads, although he probably recognized that pur- m tt>OM TfilS ROdK. 353 > at the ith long, g up the le of the Eell shot at tkivW jard, and f and his to secure ling. they can up at the . As for boat him. le fire, and any of his air meeting hind stone ig cold by suit on such a night would be bootless. Just as the fire broke through the roof of the mill, the rain re-commenoed, and shortly after it came pouring in torrents, very much to the satisfaction of the mill-hands who, under the guidance of Dick Furlong, were engaged in subduing the flames. The body of Jim Dwyer was removed to a shed, and Brophy and his daughter, ^-each with a broken arm, — were sent to Innis- carra in a jaunting-car escorted by mounted policemen. The reluctant winter sun had crept a few degrees above the horizon when Tim Darragh, sitting on a sack placed saddle- like on the administrator's mare, rode leisurely enough along the " Inches," or meadows bordering the river. At the other utremity of this particular field was an old ruin, having two high jagged corners at the end facing the river. The place was sc ancient that, — strange indeed in Ireland, — it had out- lived both tradition and legend. Nothing was known of its origin or history, nothing was said of it except that the mar- vellous tenacity of the ruined walls was popularly attributed to a fancy on the part of the architect or builder to mix his mortar with bulls' blood. Inside this old ruin a more modem genius had erected parallel walls of less elaborated masonry, using the ancient structure as ends or gables, and making a sound weather-proof roof, and the place was, together with the meadow, rented from the Earl of Sherbrooke by no less a person than his reverence Father Tom Cahill. In the interests of the wilful Molly, Tim was bent on drawing a cart-load of hay back to the stable at the presbytery ; and the fact that the schoolmaster's house was on the road between the Inches and the town may have had some effect in sending honest Tim out so early ; for it was not at all improbable that on his return he might succeed in attracting the notice of the winsome Katie Conroy and, as sometimes happened on such occasions, in being invited to warm himself beside the kitchen fire. Having traversed a slight undulation covered with rich grass and shaded by one or two ash trees of majestic growth, Darragh came to a small slip in the bank which ended in a little pebbly beach, evidently well known to Molly as a con- venient place for drinking. The water was very shallow, so that Tim, whose thoughts were probably on the way to Katie, allowed the mare to wade down right under oa« of the over- 28 • 354 VPOHf tlitB tioclt. I t" s Hi' Iianging trees. Across the river, about fifteen yards oflf, four or five protesting ducks broke the silenoe, and a man, startled by the quacking, sprang up from the long grass, uttered a loud oath, and hurried off in the direction of the old ruin. For a moment our friend Tim looked astonished, as indeed he well might under the circumstances. " By the arm of the O'Briens ! " he ejaculated, '' he has his face black. Holy Moses ! sure 'tis wan o' the boys from tlie fight over at Furlong's. Bedad, an' it's none o' my business : whisht, Molly agra, we will give the poor divil time to hide himself, sure." In the meantime the runaway, as he drew near the barn, was in his turn surprised at the. apparition of a man stepping out from the rough wall in the direction of the river. " Hugh Desmond, by hell ! " he shouted, " and a free man. So this is why ould Dinnis would not go wid us. Stop ! '! — he cried in a voice hoarse with passion — "stop ! by God you shall not go free ! " As our hero turned toward this man his features were re- cognized by Tim Darragh, who^ hearing the hoarse challenge, had forced Molly up the beach within easy view of the barn. The honest fellow gave a shout of joyful recognition which ended in a howl of terror, for at that instant the man with the darkened face raised a pistol and shot twice in the direction of Hugh Desmond, who fell to the ground at the second discharge of the weapon. " You bloody murderer ! " cried Tim, who, jumping from the horse, had armed himself, Dr.v id-like, with a pebble, "you bloody murderer, what have yoa done ?" The man thus addressed instantly turned his attention to the new-comer. Once again the weapon was levelled, — this time at Darragh, — but when the trigger was pulled no explo sion ensued. The last cartridge in the chambers had been emptied, and the man, with a curse, took another pistol from his pocket. Before, however, he could cock the weapon, Tim Darragh hurled the heavy stone straight at the fellow's head. It Struck him on the temple, with a dull, sickening thud, and the man fell forward on his face. For a moment or two Tim 'seetned unable to move a limb, but stepping forward he was just in time to assist our hero in rising. " Tinl," said Hugh, " you canie on the scene just in time to save my life. He has hit me in the left shoulder : I do not CPOI» THIS ROCK. 355 i oflf, four I, siartled red a loud n. For a }d he well be haslm } from tlie ' business : me to hide r the barn, ^n stepping jr. a free man. Stop ! ".— t»e od you shall res were re le challenge, of the barn, lition which nan with the ! direction of nd discharge mping *rom jebble, "you attention to (Veiled,— this ed no explo irs had been ,. pistol from weapon, Tim fellow's head, ng thud, and it or two Tim ward he was igt in time to ler : I do not think it is serious. First let us look to this man, whom you have badly stunned, I think." Going forward, they secured the pistils, a'ld then Tim Darragb, taking the prostrate form by the shov^lder, gently and respectfully turned it on its back. As he did so, Uu";li Desmond and Tim himself uttered an involuntary ejacullition, for there in the awful stillness of death, with a frozen Irown on the stained and disfigured countenance, both men recog- nized Patrick Shine of Inniscarra. " *Twas his life or mine, your honour," said Tim, apologetic- ally, "and bedad, for that matter, your honour's to boot. Faix, I never killed a man before, and never hopo to kill an- other ; but it's meself do not see how this could havc^ b^cn helped." "You have done nobly, Tim," said our hero, "you have done your duty, I cannot now properly thank you, Tim, for I am strangely weak, but you have done gallantly. And now Tim, you must ride to Inniscarra on the gallop, and tell your story at the station. Bring Dr. Lysaght with you, for my shoulder must be seen to at once." Tim cast an eye in the direction of a cart which stood near, and said — " But the corrupse, Mr. Desmond ? sure, had 1 not " "By no means," said Hugh, "let Tyacke see it where it lies. I will guard it until you return." Never before, I wot, Jiad Molly been so impetuously driven as when Tim rode to the village, stopping not even for a look toward the door of the schoolmaster's pretty cottage. Darragh rode like a whirlwind right up to the station, where tl>e officer on duty at once heard his story and undertook to summon the already sufflciently-tired district-inspector. Mr. Tyacke, with great forethought, sent a mounted messenger to Oarrig Desmond, so that just as Dr. Lysaght had, after extracting the bullet, bandaged Hugh's shoulder, our hero was clasped in the arms of his wife; and while lingering in that embrace scarcely noticed the extravagant and joyful gestui^s of the Hquire, the administrator, and Lieutenant Wallace. Needless to say that Tint Darragh was the hero of the hour, and that among all the hands extended to him in hearty congratulation the soft little palm of the sohoolmastef's daughter lingered in the honest man's grasp the longest and was t|ie most warmly pressed. ■ P bP it- vPv h • W ill i ■ ■{ ii ' f i ' y h !' ', u., >i J I I ' 1 v' r M I;' 'f ■ ' " ' '1' ''h 'Is '■ ;, i Kh' r ' •1 1 1 t 1 Mi^ I I'll r 1 ^^■• ti li;;^: 1 ! 356 UPON THIS BOOK. CHAPTER XXXVIII. mOWIIfO BOMB OLD WA.CEB UNDIB NEW LIGHIV. T T nOH DMmond't re-appearanee, after having been many I I days given up for dead, was naturally a nine-days' wonder, second only in interest to the daring audacity of the attack on the flour mills. The magisterial investigation which followed the latter was held at Carrig Desmond, and our hero was, of course^ compelled to appear and give evidence of the principal events which had befallen him since the night of the attempted outrage at Knockmore. With characteristic impetuosity, the Hon. Ulick Burke insisted that the police should discover the mysterious cave in the mountains, ^-no easy task in the face of Hugh's absolute refusal to act as a guide. At that season of the year it was not, however, very diflficult to follow anything that looked like a trail ; and being assured that such a place as the cavern did really exist, the constabulary exerted themselves to such purpose that on the second day of their exploration a sergeant and half-a-dozen men stood inside the King's Bed. They had found the nest, indeed, but the birds had migrated, — three of them, sooth to say, being at that very moment half-way across the Atlantic Ocean, the flight of the parent being perhaps expedited by the assurance that for one whose life-mission lay in combatting Landlordism the United States of America presented an ex- tensive field of operation. So carefully had this matter been arranged, — Tim Darragh's services as ambassador having been secured at the suggestion of Lady Blanches, — that Lieutenant Wallace was wishing Dennis Hefieman and his sons a good voyage on board of the liner in CSork harbour at the time when a printed proclamation was being posted up on the dead walls and boardings of Inniscarra and Coolreagh, ofiering a reward of fifty pounds for the arrest of the moonlighter and his sons. Having fulfilled his pledge to Lady Blanche that he would see the men safe out of Ireland, the lieutenant re-joined his wife and daughter in the city, and within a few hours the three had embarked in the good ship Upupa for Plymouth on their way home to Torpiavy. Before leaving the castle, Mrs. Wallace had exacted a promise that our hero, his wife and cousin would snend a part of the spring in Devonshire, fk UPON THIS ROCK. 367 TB. )eeDmaiiy nine-days' ity of the tion which i our hero nee of i^e le night of kracterittic the poUoe itainii— no o act M a eever, very and being y exist, the ihat on the aalf-a-dozen id the nest, J, sooth to le AtUntic lited by the jcombatting ited an ex- latter been javing been Lieutenant »ns a good It the time M the dead I, offering a lighter and iche that he it re-joined 7 hours the lymouth on Btle, Mrs. wife and ivonshire, ^ pledge giren all the more readily because late events had made considerable inroads on the health of Lady Blanche and her husband. Out of gratitude to Darragh, the Squire had made him a handsome oJQTer, — namely, that of stocking for him the Banna Farm of ninety acres at a merely nominal rental for the first three years. Tim, however, had certain notions of his own oh agriculture in general, especially holding that an unmarried man ought not to undertake the cultivation of anything more extensive than a kitchen garden. While discanting on this one evening at the schoolmaster's, Darragh said : " Bedad, Mr. Oonroy, it wpuld be well enough for a man wid maybe two or three big gossoons of his own to undertake, but sure wan man alone could do little wid the place. And, to tell the whole truth of the matter, I have an inclination to see a bit o' the world outside o' Oarlow before I take root like a turnip in the soil. Now, if the Young Master wanted an attindint, — what they call a valley, I think, Mr. Johnston," — this to the Anglican clergyman's man whose attentions to the fair Katie were as assiduous, if not quite so ardent^ as those of Tim himself, — " why, thin, sure that's just the place that would be after suiting me to a ^." "Ah, then, Mr. Darragh," replied Johnston, with a pro- voking air at once supercilious and patronizing, " sure, it's yerself that would niver do for a valley at all, at all, I'm thinkin'." "An' why the divil not, thin, savin' yer prisincet" in- quired Tim, whose jealous dislike of ^s afiected rival would have eagerly availed itself of some colourable justification of assault and battery. " Sure, Mr. Darragh, I mean no offince, but I put it to Mr. Conroy here, and to yerself, Miss Katie, — sure ye know well enipugh that a valley most have experience." "To a certain extent, no doubt that is true, Mr. Johnston," said Conroy, willing to be conciliatory. As a oo-religionist his sympathies were with the rector's servitor, but of late the administrator's man had made powerful friends, the conse- quence being seen in the studied impartiality of the school- master's demeanour. " But," interposed Katie, with a blush, " sure, valleys are not always found ready-made, Mr. Johnston ; I suppose they have to begin some time or another," ,u\ 358 UPON THIS ROCK. I.,!. H 1 ^1 E ; i » I. •i >■ IM. Mr Hi m lii ^ Tim's eyes plainly showed his gratitude for this timely fescue, but Mr. Johnston vras not to be vanquished quite so easily. " SUfe," he said, " an* it's well known that they have to begin as pages. I mind me that when we wor in Dublin I drove the rector to a garden party at rx)rd Clontarf s, and there I saw some little gossoons with rows of buttons up find down their jackets. Sure, they were all pages, having tiothing to do but to carry in letters and cards to the misthreSs. When they grow old enough to butter their lips and scrape away the down with a razor or keen-edged penknife, why, theit, bedad, they make valleys of them. Now, my friend Mr. Darragh here has a beard that would frighten the Danes." ** Nabocklish !" observed Tim, stroking his chin with his huge hand, " that may be so ; but sure if the Young Master will take me as hi« servant divil the bit will I care what he calls me." When, therefore, Father Tom, — desirous of advancing the interests of his faithful groom, — alluded to the Squire's pro- posal, he was considerably astonished when Tim, after thank- ing his reverence, came to give his reasons for refusing the favour. " Bedad, Father Tom," he said, " because I have driven Molly so many years is no reason why I should be able to do anything wid the farm. But, your reverence, sure I have been thinking that travelling would suit me to a hair, and as y oung Mr. Desmond has no servant, — nor the Squire ayiher, for that matther, exfllpt ould Dan, — maybe they would give me a thrial if your reverence would be after sp'akin' a good word for me." "Weil, Tim, my boy," replied the good priest, "I am Anxious that you should have a good start in life, so I will see what I can do over at the castle to-morrow. You are now too old to be working for the small pay I can give you, and I hope your brother who is to succeed you will turn oiit as good a man as yourself. Yes, T will speak for you, Tim, with much pleasure." The good word was, therefore, duly spoken, and to such good purpose that Tiiu was the next week duly installed as special body-servant to our hero, and, despite a little awkward- n<^ss at the first, his splendid proportions were s«»en for the first time to full advanta«jeiii the quiet suit of chocolate, with UPON THIS HOCK. 359 ito bronzia \>tttton& ornamented with the Desmond crest. Long before hia master had quite i*ecovered from the etiects of the pistol shot, Tim had more than justified the appointment by his usefulness and readiness to oblige, so that even old Dan and Mrs. Condon, — who were slow to accord him a full wel- come, — were at last entirely won over, and acknowledged that the Squire and the Young Master and mistress could not possibly do without the " boy." ,- , The visit toTormavy was made about the middle of May. Quite a sensation was caused in Torweston when the party fi*om Tormavy, in two hired carriages, drove through the crooked little streets to the Fountain Inn, and surely never did triumphant warrior experienqe the emotions which tlirilled the lK>sem of Lieutenant Wallace on this occasion. The weather was delightful, and Mr. Wallace was only too eager to obey Lady Blanche when she insisted that he should con- duct them to the very house wherein our hero had, not so long ago, taught the school which bigotry so early brought to con- fusion. At the reading-room the Squire left a substantial donation toward the library, and Mr. Calfton was polite enough to say, while inscribing their names as honorary mem- ljei*s, that in certain bound volumes of magazines on the Hbelvei many of Mr. Desmond's articles were to be found, while the monograph on the Earl of Straflbrd was given quite a conspicuous place. Then followed a most agreeable t»uil across the bay and around the White Uock, under the pilot- age of the venerable Mr. Dunn, who was candid enough to infoitn our hero that he almost preferred that he should be a Free Thinker rather than a Romanist, " although," added the veteran, *'I never expected to live to see the time when Un- l)elief would be so openly professed as it is now. Perha-aps, however," — continued he in his stuttering way, — '• I shall li-ive to see the end of all, no-ow that the gr-great falling away is taking place u-under my eyes. Ye-es, I think I .shall see the end of the world." " At all events, Mr. Dunn," replied our hero, '* if you do, I am sure it will find you doing your duty, as you have always seen it, < straight before you. For my part, I am convinced that the present thought-turmoil which affects us all, more or less^ is the natural preliminary and preparative to the great social revolution before us. We need no angel clothed in white linen t|0 warn us that ' the time is at hand.' But othurs 4 M i S60 UPON TBia ROOK. ! » r ' . » ( •'•I l-f-l ! ti Mli/ii "ir;!;i I N before ui hATe been similarly affeoted, and depend upon it that we incur no responsibility if we modestly, reverently obey tbe dictates of our conscience. ' In all things charity/ — there can be, there is no better maxim, my friend." " Yes, sir," said the pilot, " I know you are right enough there, but there have been great changes in my time. Yes, sir, right along this coast, where my own father heard John Wesley and saw him pelted with stones, fish-heads and rotten eggs ; where Bible Ohristianity once flourished like a green bay-tree, nothing now flourishes but Infidelity and the Church of England. Here is Blakiston, our vicar, with his choir all togged out with surplices, and the people having their children baptized and confirmed, while the Eclectics have regular meetings indoors and outdoors. But here is the White Rock, where we catch the finest mackerel in the world with ho<^ and line, ma'am," he said, looking toward Blancha The hook and line having been duly produced, Lady Blanche had the pleasure of hauling in a particularly fine specimen of the far-famed White Rock mackerel. There was but little time for fishing, however, and the sun was setting just as the boat re-entered Torweston harbour. In the course of the week, Maurice Desmond discovered that The Cot, the usual residence of the Wesleyan minister, was to be let for the insignificant sum of 'twelve pounds per annum. like most of those whose lives have been mahily passed inland, cousin Maurice was infatuated with the sea, and he had fallen deeply in love with the lovely bays of southern Devonshire. When, therefore, the Squire announced one morning at breakfast that he had taken The Cot for two years and that Mrs. Wallace had been his co-conspirator in giving the necessary orders for its furnishing, the good old gentleman was not quite sure that the announcement would be received with pleasure. He was naturally gratified, then, when Blanche showed her satisfaction by giving him a hearty kiss, while our hero shook his cousin's hand by way of expressing bis own feelings on the subject. Nothing could have suited the Lieutenant better than this arrangement, as he foresaw that our hero's devotion to literature would necessarily throw the Squire into almost daily intercourse with himself. Consequently it was not long before the Lieutenant was able to announce that he had commissioned his^ lugger, the Lt'/y, the crew con- sisting of himself and Jack Clymo^ and that^ captain, and all Of ON THIS ROCK. 361 were to be regarded as always subject to the orders of the household at the Cot. Without question the next two years were the happiest of the old Squire's existence. In October, 1875, he and his cousin returned to Garrig Desmond, but at Ohristmas our hero was summoned to Devonshire by the advent of a little counter- part of himself as he appeared to the reader in the second chapter of this history. The spring of 1876 was well ad- vanced before the Squire was able to leave Ireland, — he had, as he said, been putting his affairs in order, — and the naming of the child was deferred until his arrival. After due consider- ation had been given to the matter, — the Squire being as great a stickler for names as was Mr. Shandy, — ^it was unanimously voted that the young despot should be called Owen Lambert^ a decision with which cousin Maurice and the Lieutenant were equally gratified. Occupying so prominent a position in the little community, the Desmonds soon found that their habits were closely scrutinized. A visit of curiosity to the old parish church one Sunday was soon after followed by a call on the part of Mr. Blackiston, whose somewhat tedious recital of his plans and wishes with regard to church-restoration was courteously listened to, although when the financial side of the matter was alluded to cousin Maurice rather significantly expressed his opinion to the effect that there ought to be no difficulty there, considering that the neighbouring landowner and his ancestors had for so many generations drawn the great tithes of the parish. On the other hand. Dr. Hanaford and the Eclectics were not remiss in bringing before the residents at the Oot the claims of the young society as a centre of liberty and light. Once or twice our hero lectured at this institution, while Lady Blanche, — divining the immediate requirements of the society, — presented a pianoforte at which on many occasions she herself presided. Hugh, however, had undertaken a some- what ambitious treatise, so that he had but little leisure, con- senting at times with some reluctance to accompany the Squire and the Lieutenant in their excursions on the water. When- ever be turned aside to observe the doings of the little world around him, he was forcibly impressed with'the great change so feelingly lamented by the pilot. The old ascendancy and pride of place of the Diuenters had almost wholly vanished, whil^ the etUicitl consequences were discrepant in their char- 362 UPON THIS ROCK. < '■ i'li! [i ! k r' i ' i ^^ ' W' pi: 861 UPON tnt^ ttooit* 't'l.i iAJl n^leoted. Iti his opinion the object of their existence m a ■ociely wae attuned when \'«m.bitiou8 intelligence. Shortly afterward he resigned his position as an official among the Eclectics, and by a unanimous vote of the members Mrs. Hanafufd wa9 ciosen as his successor. T fear, ge:i>t)d reader, that 1 have already incurred thy re- buke for having, as it were, beguiled thee into reading these Setty details of life in an obscure country town. Inasmuch, owever, as they serve to illustrate the quiet revolution which has been working throughout human society during the last quarter of a century, I venture to orave thy kind indulgence. May we not consider the little fishing town as the microcosm containing within its petcy limits the diminutives of the gre< ter world of man t Moreover, bearing in mind the rela- tivity of all things in nil systems to their conscious centres, it is not improbable thc^t to higher intelligences than our own the whole of humanity may seem protozoic, in which case it may be that the observation of one community of micro-organ- isms may be no less interesting than the study of the whole kingdom of human protozoa. '■'♦I VPO» TIII8 ROCE. 365 CHAPTEit XXXIX **COMI BITHIR, COME HITHBB ! ROW DID THIS ABQUMBIIT Biam Y " " T^OR here have we no oontinning city,"—- thfs must w« ^ all acknowledge, whether princes or peers, bankers, merchants, or distillers of the blood, sweat, and tears of th« millions into the man-debasing liquor of selfish luxury. Some there are who, happily for themselves, and greatly to their own consolation, can in all sincerity of faithful conviction repeat the other ndon since April, — it was now the end of May, 1887, — superintending its birth. Within its cover were reflected the uiinds of himself and his wife, as they themselves desired to l)e known to their contemporaries, and, it might haply be, to posterity. Yet, after all, how slight a thing it seemed, how 366 vpoTit tm» RooiL vm mi^ I'l hi \[¥ li ephemeral ! — an age-chip sent floating down the little stream of time, destined, — whatever men might say of it, — sooner or later to be engulphed in the great ^l6thingne8s which must supervene when the sum-total of human consciousness in its annihilation necessarily reduces all things whatever to nought. Neither Hugh nor Blanche was of those who shrink timor- ously from logical inferences because of apprehended conse- quences. Animated by the wish to promote, however slightly, the true philosophy of sound minds in healthy bodies, to point the way of common sense and reason amid the confusion of utterances philosophical, theological, and sciolistic, our hero had produced a bcK>k likely to please neither of the priest- hoods — theological, ideological, or scientific. As the event proved, it was a work which the clever critics and able editors thought it wiser to ignore than to notice ; the former because, like most of their order, they were deficient in the power of abstract thinking ; the latter because they instinctively recog- nized that absolute, uncompromising materialism was not altogether respectable, — that is, fashionable and lucrative, — And that, therefore, with the characteristic hypocrisy and sanctimoniousness of Englishmen of all classes, thtf book had better be ignored. Desmond was by no means surprised at this ; it was too paltry a policy even to excite his anger against the commercialists and traffickers whose control of presses, types, and shops almost makes genius the thrall of Commer- cialism ; and Blanche and cousin Maurice had determined that the first edition should not remain long on the publisher's shelves. 8oon after Hugh had begun to cut the leaves of his book, a knock was heard, and in reply to his invitation there entere<} his friends William Curtin and Charles Wiltshire. These two decidedly opposite characters had become very good friends with one another, and they had by their society contributed much toward making Hugh's stay in town agreeable. Nothing escaped Wiltshire, so he at once pounced upon the new book. • " Aha ! " he cried, " so this is the new treatise, is it ! It has been well advertised, at any rate ; but hang me if I know who reads such books. Yet it is always this kind of literature that survives, — I mean, that every age seems to be marked by its philosopher and his system or method, or whatever you may call it. Well, thank heaven ! I shall never gain immor- tality by following so dusty a road, and by the same token,-— UPON THIS BOCK. mr e stream iooner or ch must AS in its a nought, ik timer- sd conse- r slightly, B, to point ifusion of our hero ihe priest- the event ble editors Br because, le power of tvely reoog- Q was not ucrative, — locrisy and 16 book had lurprised at iger against 1 of presses, of Commer- irmined that , publisher's f his book, a here entered These two good friends r contributed ble. Nothing le new book, jse, is it ! 1^ [me if I know [ of literature [to be marked whatever you • gain immor- lame token,— ns Curtin would say, — I shall also avoid many a headache; But, Desmond, my friend, what a strange place this private hotel is, ell t Hang me if I don't think all the ' cranks ' that come to London find their way to the Norwood." '* Is that a compliment to myself, Mr. Wiltshire ? " asked our hero, laughing ; " it certainly seems to have a sort of per* bonal bearing." "Upon my word, my dear fellow," returned Wiltshire, "I had no such thought. ' Present company,' you know, and so ' forth. No ; but we just looked into the smoking-room for you before we came up, and upon my soul the place was full of May-meetingers, parsons, preachers, and the Lord known who besides. Suppose we go down there and smoke our cigars ? I assure you it is better than Cogers' Hall or the Forum." "Just as you like, my friends," retnmed Hugh, taking his liat and stick, " but you must not forget our appointment at W'ansteod Hall this evening, Mr. Wiltsliire, you know." " Plenty of time for that," said the other, " we can easily be at the station by six o'clock. Come on, then," and the party proceeded downstairs. The smoking-room was a large and well-ventilated apart- ment, liberally furnished with small tables, after the style of a Parisian cufe. Seating themselves at one of these, the friends at once muuifested a laudable zeal in the direction of studying character according to the scientific mothod, — that is, l)y patient observation of the persons around them. It was certainly, as Wiltshire had hinted, a motley gathering ol i)utween thirty and forty men, almost all of whom were min isters of religion sojourning at the hotel. " There is to be a great meeting of the Gospel Alliance this evening in Exeter Hall," said Wiltshire, " and I suppose some of these gentlemen are to hold forth at it. Before I became a private secretary I was a sort of confidential clerk in the otlice of the Alliance, where I saw how the ropes are pulled to make the business of leligion a profitable, that is, a lucrative, one. The E»,v\ of Shaftesbury is to take the chair, these people turn the fanaticism of the old gentleman to good ac- count, sending out all their circulars and calls in his name, and fiattering him to the top of his bent.'' " W^e Catholics," observed Curtin, "call him tlie Protestant Pope ; but look at the party there ou our right ; sure, they are not parsons, t think," smmm 368 UPOH THIS BOOK. « f] ' i 'ft' 1 i.l, i; • \ I KV i 1 The party alluded to numbered about half-a-doxen gentlemen of yariouB ages. They were all very neatly dressed in well- fitting garments, but their faces were distinguishable by their extreme pallor. The settee on the right afforded seats for six persons, but as a stout, middle-agod man already occupied the middle seat, one of the new-comers was under the necessity of accepting the only vacant chair within reach, so that he sat midway between the three frienda and his own companions. By that subtle freemasonry which attracts compatriots while sojourning among strangers, the stout man on tlie settee and the other strangers were not long in diHcovering that they were each and all citizens of the United States of America. While exchanging salutations stifEly and ceremoniou-ly, it was evident that the stout man laboured under some restraint, which was especially noticeable in his manner toward the most clerical looking among the strangers, — a comparatively young, effeminate>looking man with black eyes and hair, the latter being parted in the middle and out close to the head behind. On his part, the younger man was no less reserved, and for some time the conversation was almost wholly confined to the petty details of a voyage across the Atlantic. Charles Wilt- shire, who had been steadily contemplating the features of the stout man, at last appeared to recognize him. " By George I " he said, in rather too loud a tone, it must be confessed, ** by Oeorge I Mr. Desmond, but I do believe that is D wight, the evangelist" " Tou are quite right, sir," remarked the man in the chair, '* quite right. Yes, sir ; that is the great Mr. Dwight, the evangelist He is a remarkable man, sir, a most remarkable man ; but he is behind the age, behind the age. I guess he is the most powerful preacher that the Christian church has ever produced, except perhaps the Apostle Paul, and he exer- cises great influence over the ignorant masses. Tour Arch- bishop of Canterbury would give something, I guees, to procure a shMe of his wonderful natural gifts ; but, after all, sir, Mr. Dwight is a hundred yean too late. You see there before you, sir, types of the old and the new. The gentleman with the dark hair and eyes is Mr. Euripides Cicero Funk, the great apostle and expounder of scientific ethics, of the city of Chalcopolis, the future metropolis of America. I am one of his congregation, — my wife is a great admirer of Mr. Fnnk, and quite an enthusiast in the work ; oblige me by ^^oepting UPON THIS ROCK. 369 entlomen in well- ) by their kts for lix upied the iceisity o! >at he sat npanions. iota while lettee and that they America, i-ly, it waa restraint, d the most ely young, , the latter Eid behind. )d, and for ined to the arles Wilt- liures of the ne, it must do believe the chair, )w^ht, the remarkable I guess he shurch has ad he exer- our Aroh- to procure ai, sir, Mr. before you, with the the great jhe city of am one of Mr. Funk, excepting her card. She often says that Mr. Funk reminds her of what the founder of Christianity muRt have looked like ; of course, that is only a flight of the imagination, but Mrs. Boggs is very poetic, very," and the stranger bowed to our hero and his friends. Wiltshire having read the card passed it on to Curtin j he in turn gave it to Desmond, who read it with some astonish- ment. It was something more than a mere visiting card, having clearly been made on " strict business principles," as the reader may learn from its perusal : Mrs. Aspasia De Boggs, 27 Huron Street. IjADIBS can repose the utmost oonfldenoe In OootreM De Bogg*. a Graduate ttom the Royal University of Vienna ; ver7 successful in curing ladies of barrenness ; takes ladies before and dur- ing oonflnement ; best of care ; strictly confiden- tial ; adopts infants at her residence. Take Huron St. or Calhoun Ave. can. Desmond, first thanking Mr. De Boggs for his courtesy, ventured to inquire of that gentleman what an ethical congre- gation was, a question which the American received with a slight elevation of the eyebrows, expressive, it may be, of com- miseration. " Our object, sir," he replied, " is to practically demonstrate that the true basis of morality is to be found in the nature of man rather than in a supposed revelation from heaven. We hold that this basis is entirely the product of evolution ; that it varies with every age, according as the sura of human intel- ligence and progress increases ; and that, consequently, as man Advances in intellectual development his standard of ethics, — his conscience, in fact, — becomes correspondingly elevated." " I see," answered our hero, " so that the morals of the Athenians and after them the Romans, who were highly in- tellectual people, must have been very much superior to those of the Hebrews, — in short, that their ethical standards con- siderably surpassed the ten commandments of Moses." " Mr. Funk has published a lecture, sir," observed Mr. De 3oggs, " in whiob he speaks eulogistioally of the character of 24 S70 UPOir THIS BOOK. I !^ .'.^ MoMi, and axpluni thftt his shorioomiDgpi wad the rappoMd neoemdty Ui*t he felt of baaing his laws upon a divine sanction were due to the time, the character of the people, and so on, ratiier than to any deliberate intention to deceive." " BeiUly," said Desmond, " I think that Moses ought to be very grateful to Mr. Funk. May I ask if your society is a prosperous one ? " " Under the ministry, — if I may say so, — of Mr. Euripides Oicero Funk, it has steadily grown in repute among our most cultured classes in Chalcopolis, sir," replied Mr. De Boggs. Only the Episcopalians in our city can be said to be sup- ported by a class 'distinctly superior to the patrons and sup- porters of the Ethical Society. Our ladies, especially, are animated by the most lofty altruism. They visit the poor, minister to the sick, and teach in the Sunday-school. Mrs. De Boggs is, in her own person, quite the right hand of the lecturer, and she is, in fact, a mother in our Israel." " A nursing-mother, in fact, interposed the iui^rrigible Wiltshire. "I know the kind of people you Ethical societar- ians are. Yes, Mr. De Boggs, I have met many on your own side of the water. You are just plain infidels endeavouring to conceal the fact under a thin veneer of social respectability. You are trying to assume the vesture which American Uni- tarianism, — now shrunken and universally discredited, — can no longer wear. Your lecturers and ministers are the dumb dogs of opportunism, and setters forth of respectable platitudes. You are, — to use our good old English saying, — neither fish, flesh nor red-herring ; the avowed infidel will not reoogpiize you as a cooperator, while the meanest among the many mean sects of so-called Christians in America will not suffer its minister to associate with your little-great What's-his-name Funk. Look, sir, even that howling evangdist who is coming this way will not occupy a seat beside your lecturer if he can help it, and, by Qeorge ! I honour him for it^ too." " You are prejudyced, sir, very much prejudyced," said Mr. De Boggs, " like nearly all Englishmen, I guess. The Ethical movement is as yet in its infancy, but it will grow, because it is a necessity of the coming age." " All humbug, my friend," cried the obstinate^ downright Wiltshire ; " do I net know that its founder was a liberal- minded, cosmopolitan, clever Jew whose anterior cerebrul lobes were somewhat less limited than those of his raoe gener^ upon THIS BOCK. m •uppoMd B Bftuction tnd to on, ^ht to be oieiy is » Euripides 9 our meet De Boggs. to be Bup- • and sup- Bci»Uy, are it the poor, hool. Mrs. land of the inisorrigible Leal societar- on your own ^eavouring to spectability. lerican TJni- edited,— can ire the dumb tie platitudes, -neither fish, LOt reeogniM g the many il not suffer at's-hit-name rho is coming )t if he can V said Mr. The Ethical )W, because it Lte, downright ras a liberal- jrior cerebrul lis raoe gener- ally and who was a splendid organizer ? He was keen enough to discover that nearly every wealthy infidel was haunted by apprehensions of the inevitable results to the capitalists should the Christian religion and the institutions it sanctions ever be superseded by a theory of life based solely upon utilitariaaisni and the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number. Out of this discovery was evolved your bastard Ethical movement, whose real underlying aim is to provide a moral imposture, by means of which your rich unbelievers may 1)6 able to salve their consciences and to oppose the revolu- tionary spirit. As to your teachers, Mr. De Boggs, permit ine to express the difference between What's-his-name Funk and that butcher-like evangelist who has just gone by ; — the one flatters and absolves the rich, the other terrifies and hum- bugs the poor. Both are doubtless wise in their generation, bu^ for my part, I think neither is to be envied. Tou know we Englishmen are plain-spoken, — too damned free I have been called in your countiy ; and if you stay long in London you will soon discover that the aitch-dropping Cockneys, as you term us, have a special knack for calling a spade a spade. I wish you a good afternoon, sir." Having thus liberated his mind, — Mr. Wiltshire rose from his chair and was followed by our hero and William Curtiii. Mr. De Boggs went over to the seat vacated by the evangelist, and at once proceeded to entertain his frilow-travellers with an account, — somewhat exaggerated of course, — of the rude- ness of speech of the Englishman who had just left the room. Upon reaching the street, our hero ventured to expostulate with Wiltshire with respect to the severity of his remarks, l)ut the newspaper man would not acknowledge that he had been guilty of a breach of decorum. " I really cannot endure," he said, " the assumptions of these' people. Every paltry ae^t and denomination among them speaks of itself as the salt of the earth, and the majority of tliem are always crowing like cocks about the grains of philo- sophy and religion that they pretend to derive from the straw that has been threshed out among Europeans nearly a hundred years ago. I declare that were I compelled once more to live in America, — which God in his mercy forbid ! I would turn Roman Catholic out of sheer spite." '* And why not turn Catholic here in England, Mr Wilt- shire ? " asked Curtin ; " faith, it seems to me that we have f^ m tpoit triis ttocit ill" ■.' quite am much jangling and oonfuiion as the Americani have." " Because I have in the Church of England all that a Chris- tian man requires, — apostolicity of orisin, continuity of orders, a full measure of ordered liberty, and an adaptability to pro- gress. No doubt she has her shortcomings as an institution, but these a.te not inherent or unyielding. The promise of the iVitttre is with her ; she is all English, and I love her dearly, while I very much doubt if all the dootresses that ever gradu- ated in Vienna will succeed in fostering anything likely to uuurp her place as a teacher and promoter of good." " She is certainly the noblest among the churches," observed Desmond, " the most truly Catholic, learned and devout. So much I, who am not a Christian, can freely acknowledge, and I think it not unUkely that she will prove to be the most progressive as she is, I believe, the most enlightened." " Thank you, Mr. Desmond," said Wiltshire. " You are not the first sceptic that 1 have heard testify to this. I am not a fanatic or a controversialist, but I do love tlie old Churcli. But see, there's a hansom. Hi ! there, cabby. Come on ! Qood day, Curtin ! " The reporter, crossing the street, took his way to Mr. Walter's office, while Wiltshire and our hero went off in the Cab toward the city. ' More than seven years had gone by since Hugh Desmond left the old school at Culm Tor. He had learned from Charles Wiltshire that Edith Allyn had been engaged upwards of three years as a lady-worker in mission work in a London parish, and that she had expressed a wish to enter a well- known sisterhood at the expiration of the term of her present engagement. On the way to the Hall our hero appeared somewhat thoughtful, — indeed, his memory was at work with the events of those fruitful years during which the boy had become an earnest, capable man. He found that time had dealt gently with his old friends, and the schoolmaster and his wife accorded him a kindly welcome. Kot until Charles Wiltshire narrated his encounter with the ethical disciple did Mr. Toynbee make any allusion to the great mental change which had resulted in Desmond becoming a recognized apostle of rationalism, and when he did introduce the subject it was without his usual air of positive assurance and dogmatism. The brief discussion that ensued revealed the schoolmaster us OPON THIS ROOK. 3T3 tnerlcani 1 a Chrii- )1 orders, ty to pro- stitution, lige of the er dearly, ver gradu- ; likely to " observed Bvout. So vledge, and Q the most ed." you are not I am not a old Church. Come on I way to Mr. it off in the a by no means incompetent champion of Intuitionalism, and he strenuously maintained the doctrine of intuitions antece- dent to, and independent of, experience. It seemed to our hero that Mr. Toynbee had studied to some purpose the writings of the greatest abstract thinker the Church of Eng- land had nurtured, who would certainly have been regarded as the greatest reasoner of the century had he not suffered his fine intellect to be overshadowed by the pretensions of Roman theology. This was made more evident when Mr. Toynbee quoted with approval the affirmation that " whatever man's cognitive faculties indubitably declare as certain is thereby known to be infallibly true." Little by little the discussion drifted towards the question of the basis of morals, and here Mr. Toynbee was re-inforced by Wiltshire in maintaining that there was absolutely no thinkable basis of morality possible apart from tlie recognition of the existence of a personal Qod. It is no discredit to our hero to affirm that apparently he got the ^worst of i'^e argument. Both of his opponents persisted in applying their thesis to society as existing at present, for- getting that the present system has been formed in accordance with the theory of a divinely-sanctioned moral code. Mrs. Toynbee, however, put an end to the debate by announcing that tea waa ready, and thereafter the schoolmaster quite lost sight of Desmond's heresies while eulogizing his book on the Earl of Strafford's government of Ireland. Hvigh told the s*^iirj of his captivity among the moonlighters, which interested his hearers very much, Mr. Wiltshire being delighted with Dennis Heffernan's ruse and the downfall of Morgan Mannion. While Mr. Xeynbee was helping himself to some currant jelly, Desmond ventured to ask a few qnestions respecting Miss AUyn. " She is not at all welV' answered Mrs. T^nbee, " the mission work has proved too exacting, as I fearecl it would. I quite forgot to tell you, — ^it is very curious, — but she has ac- cepted an invitation from Mrs. Blakiston, whose brother is curate-in-charge of Edith's parish in town, to spend a few weeks in Torweston. She left for Devonshire last week : I did not know you were living there, or I would — have made Edith acquainted with the fact." The good old lady had turned the concluding;, sentence very cleverly, but not quite so adroitly but that Hugh Desmond noted ^he hesitation in her speech. He threw au inquiring IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / O 'ii I? i^.. 1.0 I.I 1.25 IIIIM IIIM ,40 ||M 122 12.0 U 111.6 Photographic Sciences Corporation <^^ .^ < S"i .f ' ,..r ' .^74 tl>OK tuiB itoot. look toward Mrs. Toynbee, but ai.ll to no purpose u the ftp peared to be occupied with the tea. He did not know, bul still he thought it not improbable, that Mrs. Toynbee, with a woman's intuition, had in the old days at Oulm Tor suspected the nature of the feelings of her niece and the young assistant. " Mr. and Mrs. Blakiston sometimes honour us with a call,*^^ he said, " so I shall probably have the pleasure of soon meet- ing Miss AUyn, and I hope of learning that our sea air is effecting a cure." " When do you go down to Devonshire, Mr. Desmond ? " inquired the schoolmaster ; " I hope not so soon but that you can dine here say on Sunday." "Thank you," answered our hero, "probably not before next week. Should all be well, I shall be very happy to accept your kind invitation fc e Sunday.". " Come in time for morning service, Mr. Desmond," said Mrs. Toynbee, '' I am sure you will not refuse me that. I do so wish you woulJ go to church with us once more." » " That I will with pleasure, my dear madam," replied Hugh, " and I thank you very much for allowing me the favour." " You need not fear that Kirke will level a sermon at your individual head," said Mr. To3mbee. " He is not half com- battive enough for me ; but he is a good parish priest, a good parish priest" Our hero ^r^ent about another hour with his f>ld friends^ and then, at Wiltshire's earnest request, accompanied the latter to his mother's cottage, " for the old lauly," — as her son observed, — " would be delighted once again to see the man who had rescued her darling from the Philistines.^ He found Mrs. Wiltshire happy and contented in the full enjoyment of a green old age. It was very late when Desmond returned to the Adelphi, yd the first person he encountered in the hotel was his own servant, Tim Darragh, who met his master with a look betokening serious agitation of mind. UPOM tni itocK. 373 « the ftp now, bul e, with a suapected assistant, th ft cftU/ oon meet- seft ftiris esmond 1 X thftt you not before y to ftocept nond," aftid 06 thftt. I lore.** • plied Hugh, , favour." mon ftt your yt half com- riestjftgood Md friends, ipanied the -as her son |see themftn V He found ijoyment of returned to in the hotel laster with ft CHAPTBR XL. **AirD death's pale flao u not advanced there.'* HUGH Desmond knew at once that his servant was ft bearer of ill news. No professional thought-reader wau* iioo«H8ary to measure with abraded finger-tips his nerve contractions, aud hy these to diaoover the nature of the domi- nant idea or luling motiw in Barragh's dnind. Like the shadows thrown by the rain-olouds over the lakes of Killarney, every emotion of Tim's honest heart was wont to be mirrored in his faoe. "Something has happened, Tim," said Desmond, "some- thing afflictive, or you would not be here. Tell ine what it is, — I would rather know the full extent of an evil at once than have it held over me in suspense. Your mistress and the baby, — has anything happened to them t " " Yes, your honour," answered Darragh, shutting the door of Desmond's room as they entered, " there has been a bit of an accident^ and her ladyship would not allow them to tele- graph to you. ' I will send you, Darragh,' she said, ' and you will explain it %o as not to frighten Mr. Desmond,' and it seems, your honour, that I got here about an hour or so after your honour left last night. " Then my wife, at all events, is well ? " answered our hero ; " and the baby, Tim t is it the baby ? " " The baby is well and hearty, sir," replied Tim, " but your honour will know all about it when you have heard the story, I think." Very much relieved by these assurances, Desmond nodded, and his servitor went on with his narrative. Divested of its verbose redundancy, Tim's account set forth that two days ago Lady Blanche, Clara Wallace and the Squire had gone out in the Lily for a cruise in the bay and around the White Hock. It was a beautiful afternoon, there being a gentle breeze from the south-west. Darragh, who had accompanied his mistress and the Squire to the landing-slip, as soon as the Lily had cleared the harbour, strolled up to the Battery to smoke his post-prandial pipe and to enjoy the spectacle presented by some hundred fishing-boats spreading their lug-sails to the wind and departing for the tithing ground. The white sails ssmu 376 UPON THIS ROCK. i n ■ill of the Lieutenant's lugger rendered her so conspicuous among the bark-dyed sails of the fleet that Tim could easily dis- tinguish her as she stood oitt for an offing with the other boats. When about two miles from the harbour Mr. Wallace " hauled his wind " for the White Bock, having his sail well flattened with a taut sheet. Mr. Dunn, the pilot, and the coast-guard officer were on the Battery, and Darragh listened with some attention when the latter observed to the jaloh . " Take my glass, Mr. Dunn, and look out there where Wal- lace's lugger has Church point nearly abeam. You see how close she is to the wind, and mark the ripple outside the point. You may depend that beyond the point, in the open water, there is much more wind than they seem to anticipate." " Yes, sir," returned the pilot, " but they have found that out too ; I see Olymo overhauling the Good heavens ! she is on her beam ; look, look ! " It was but too true ; the Lily was a crank boat, not too well ballasted, the space amidships where the nets would have been stowed being occupied by a light cabin or raised cuddy. Just as she had got the point on her quarter a sharp gust of wind struck the sail while Clymo was about to " let go " the sheet, and in a moment the lugger capsized. , Mr. Dunn, the officer and Darragh ran hurriedly to the station', the gig was manned by the attende it coastguardsmen, and amid the cheers and exhortations of au excited crowd on the quays, the long swift boat sped like an arrow out from the harbour, through the Fool, and into the open bay. Happily, however, the acci- dent had been witnessed by the fisher fleet, so that long before the gig reached the spot the whole party had been rescued. Lady Blanche and Clara ha.d both been thrown clear of the lugger, so that Mr. Wallace and Clymo found it easy to place them on the bottom of the capsized boat, but the Squire had been caught by the sail, and it was some time before Clymo, -who was a fine swimmer and diver.-succeeded in bringing him to the surface. " Five seconds more," said Jack, after Maurice had been laid on the bottom of the boat, " and it would have been too late. He still has life in him, but it was nearly touch and go. You see, Lieutenant, 'twas a good thing that our ballast was all loose, 80 that we shall save the boat. A duoking ia May will not hurt very much." UPON THIS ROCK. 37? U0U8 amono; I easily dis bh the other Mr. Wallace his sail well lot, and the •agh listened the pilo* • B where Wal- You see how ide the point. B open water, cipate." ire found that heavens! she : boat, not too )U would have raised cuddy. , sharp gust of I "let go" the tfr. Dunn, the n, the gig was mid the cheers uays, the long rbour, through vever, the acci- lat long before been rescued. ..n clear of the jt easy to place he Squire had before Olymo, ied in bringing arice had been have been too ^ touch and go. >ur ballast was loking in May " Kever mind the boat," said Mr. Wallft/^e, " but look to see if any help is coming." " All light, sir," returned Clymo, " here they are j old Elvins ahead, — the fastest lugger in the channel, and half-a- dozen others behind him." Old Elvins and his stalwart sons were not many minutes in transferring the unfortunates, while Clymo remained with the other boats, whose crews readily undertook to secure the lugger, and to tow her to the beautiful little beach just inside the point, Midway between the point and the harbour they encountered the gig, and even Mr. Dunn looked on approv- ingly while the coastguard officer placed a well-filled flask of brandy to the Squire's lips. By the time the harbour was reached cousin Maurice was restored to consciousness, but it was evident that he had received a severe shock, and it was found 1 necessary to carry him from the landing-slip to the carriage which was in waiting. Blanche and Clara having also entered the vehicle, Dr. Hanaford jumped up beside Darragh, leaving the Lieutenant to make his way on foot to the Cot A careful examination of his patient led the doctor to infer that he had sustained same internal injury that might prove serious to one so advanced in years, and when this conviction was corroborated by Dr. Kekewich, Lady Blanche at once de- termined that Tim should convey the news to her husband. " But why did she not give you a note, Tim ? " inquired Hugh ; '* I am afraid that you are still concealing something from me. You have not told me all." " 'Deed, then, your honour," said Tim, " but I have, except that maybe her ladyship has caught a slight cold, — as she well might after being drowned in that way. But I was to say that it was nothing, — only a feverish cold, — so your honour may noh fret yourself to death entirely." " I understand, Tim ; she has probably a strong fever by this time. You must pack my trunk at once ; we must be at Paddington by sunrise. .Be as smart as you can, Tim, that's a good fellow." " All right, sir," answered Darragh, •• I will be all ready, never fear," and he straightway proceeded to fulfil his promise, while our hero, taking some telegraph forms, wrote explanatory messages to Curtin, Wiltshire, and the Toynb<>.;S. During the greater part of the journey to Devonshire Des- m^ 378 tPON TitTs nocK. S;i\ ■'f;T ^' mond wan alone He was glad to bo so, for it is not always true that distress is alleviated by companionship. Hitherto our hero had, on the whole, found life grateful and pleasant. He was ha^^ily united to a wife who was assuredly so sym- pathetic as to warrant the application of the free-love term o! his affinity. They had love, health competence, many estim- able friends, and their lives were by no means objectless or deficient in incentive. Peculiarly favoured in these respects, they were also fortunate in having, — perhaps as far as was possible at their age, — excogitated a rule of life based upon reason, a standard which was a synthesis tf mind and heart, intellect and emotion, guaranteeing at once virtue and happi- ness, and promts; ng that their careers would " lie in a direct path between excess and defect"* Now, however, it might be that the time was at hand when he, too, would have to witness and patiently endure a change of fortune. He knew that the royal Preacher, while advising men to be joyful in prosperity and considerate in adversity, haJ affirmeid that *' God also hath set the one over against the other, to the end that man should find nothing after him ; " while the scarcely less wise Pagan fabulists showed their sense of the allotting power of that universal Nemesis whose office and administra- tion " it is," says Yerulam, " to hinder the constant and per- petual felicity of happy men, and to interpose her word, — Veto, I forbid the continuance of it ; that is, not only to chasbttise insolency, but to intermix prosperity (though harmless and in a mean) with the vicissitudes of adversity, as if it were a custom that no mortal man should be admitted to the table of the gods but for sport." While speeding westward to encoun- ter his sorrow, Desmond bad ample opportunity of testing the sustaining power, the bearing strain of his philosophy, and to be satisfied therewith. Nay, more than this, he even thought himself endowed with greater fortitude than religion could bestow, inasmuch as his willing readiness to allow that " what- ever is, is right " effectually shielded him from the danger of mind-enfeebling complaints like those of Job, or futile be- moanings like those of the typical martyr-altruiat — *' The foe of Zeus and held In hatred by all Qods Who tread the court of Zeus : • Bacon : "* SojrUa and loanu, or the Middle- Way." ¥ -' UP05 THIS ROCK. 379 not always ). Hitherto md pleasant, •edly 80 sym- 4ove term of many eetim- objectlesa or hese respecti, A far aawas :e based upon ind and heart, ae and happi- Ue in a direct ever, it might urould have to le. He knew to be joyful in aihrnied that her, to the end lie the scarcely of the allotting ind adminiatra- istant andper- srword,— V«fo, aly to chafatise lannless and in s i£ it were a to the table of „ard to encoun- [y of testing the ilosophy, and to « even thought religion could low that * what- Q the danger o! >b, or futile be- [uiat— lw»i. And this for my great love, Too great for mortal mon.*'* The soundets philosophy, however, though it can prepare the mind to endure hardships like a good soldier, — -just as religion does, but by different methods, — cannot render pointless the barbed arrows of Fate. A sudden sense of weariness, a dull, leaden feeling within his bosom, came upon our hero when, as he was ascending the ngzag pathway, his eye fell upon the darkened windows of Blanche's room. The door was opened by Mrs. Wallace, and almost before crossing the threshold he learned from her that his wife was seriously ill with inflamma- tion of the brain. Everything had been done that was pos- sible ; tl :; two doctors, Kekewich and his son-in-law, were un- remitting in attention, and a lady from the vicarage, who, it was said, had great experience in the sick room, had kindly volunteered her services immediately after the unfortunate accident at the White Kock and its consequences had become known. " I thought it right to avail myself of her kind assistance," added Mrs. Wallace, " because there are no trained nurses in TorwestoTi, and you know, Mr. Desmond, that we have two patients, although I am glad to say that, for the present at least, your cousin is in no danger. He is now able to sit up in an invalid chair in his own coom, but he has sustained a severe shock, a very severe shc^k for his time of life. But I will see Miss Allyn, and inquire if it be advisable for you to see Lady Blanche." Once more left to himself, Desmond could not help marvel- ing at the course of events which bad brought Edith Allyn to the relief of his wife. He knew instinctively how valuable her presence would be in such an emergency, but he felt an unaccountable reluctance to meet her. When the door was again opened he turned, expecting to see Mrs. Wallace, and found himself face to face with Edith. Coming forward, she extended her hand to Hugh, who received it with a low obeis- ance of mingled respect and esteem." " I thought I myself would be the bearer of good news," she said. " Lady Blanche is^ thank God I much better ; the change we have looked for has occurred and is a favourable * Maohjlvm, " Prometlieus VinctiM ;" Dr. Plmnptr«'9 traasli^tloa. \>'i ■ ■/ f r ' fi / / 'i i'l' ■ ■'■'' i ' i ' 380 UPON THIS ROCK. ■ I : ( "i''-|i one. Later on, I think you may see her, but at present abso- lute quiet is necessary. There must be no excitement" " You will find me in all things most obedient, Miss Allyn. Your presence here is that of an angel of mercy, I know, al- though I confess I was afraid to meet you. I could not be otherwise, for how can I hide from myself that in all proba- bility you regard me as being in more senses than one a recreant and a traitor 1 " "You forget," she said, "that it is my mission to do as I am doing, or perhaps you do not know it." " I only learned it yesterday from your aunt, Miso Allyn, when I was at Wanstead, and I was by no means prepared for the information. Believe me, that when I met you at the Wiltshires' I had been given to understand that you were be- trothed to Mr. Kirke. It was not wholly a hasty conclusion, my mind had been previously prepared to receive it by what I have since discovered to have been idle gossip. It was Destiny." " I think, nay, I am sure," replied Edith, " that it was the direction of God, to which, as I once wrote to you, it was our duty to submit. But I forget ; you are not a Christian, you have taken sides against us. But I have read much that you have written in the magazines, and I know that now, as before, you are earnest in the line of }'our convictions. And now we will bury the past, with its errors and mistakes, and address ourselves to the present dutiest. I am glad that aunt Mildred told you so much about mysv^lf, so that you will per- haps not object to my mmaining here until your wife has re- covered her health." " Have I not said that your presence here is that of an angel of mercy, Edith ? " asked Hugh, "and do men ever banish angels whose ministry is one of mercy and good from their homes ? If you only knew how gladly I consign my dear wife to your care, how grateful she herself will be when restored, you would not doubt us." " You must call me Sister, then," she said, " and speak no more of the past. And now, will you not go up to your cousin 1 I am sure he is eagerly looking for you. To-morrow, with God's blessing, I think you may see Lady Blanche." "Sister Edith,'' he replied, "your religion is that of the Master, — 'I was sick and ye visited me.' With such • reli- gion I have no quarrel. Yes, I will go to Cousin Maurice." They left the room together, much as in the old days they UPON THIS ROCK. 381 sent abso- nt" iss Allyn. know, al- ild not be all proba- [lan one a be do as I Lisa Allyn, IS prepared you at the )u were be- conclusion, t by what I w Destiny." i it was the , it was onr iristian, you ich that you hat now, as bions. And istakes, and td that aunt on will per- wife has re- is that o! an men ever good from consign my ill be when nd speak no up to your To-morrow, anche." that of the . such ft reli- in Maurice." Id days they would have gone toward the class-room at Culm Tor. Of the twtkin Eklith was far less changed in appearance, and not even the studied simplicity of her dress could detract from her beauty, the promise of seven years ago being more than ful- filled in the finished maturity of her twenty-eighth summer. Tho rioh chestnut hair was more simply braided and confined, the large liquid brown eyes somewhat more introspective than of yore, as must needs be with eyes that have looked pityingly into London's wretchedness, that have looked on with sym- pathy ^ben the victims of over-civilization and its vices have laid themselves down to die. Her hands had smoothed the pillow of despair, had helped to cool the parched lips and fevered brow of many an outcast stranded for ever and aye on the shores of the black whirlpool of the metropolis. And even as the very precious ointment which flowed from the alabaster box on to the Master's head softened and made more sensitive the hands that ministered, so had this compassionate experience perfected Edith's character and made her nature more gracious, benignant, and loving. The discipline had been painful and grievous, but the sweet womanly virtues bad i>een all the more surely strengthened and developed, so that, however some might question tho faith which produced it, none could undervalue that which the belief imparted, — the inward adorning " which is not corruptible, even the orna- ment of a meek and quiet spirit." Intent on subduing nature, Edith had, on that terrible Wednesday evening preceding the wedding at St. Ambrose's, determined so to live that, fortified by grace, renunciation itself should become a means to happi- ness. There are doubtless other systems, — especially one great Humanitarian religion, — equally capable of inspiring sucK a degree of renunciation and self-denial, but methinks, O reader benevolent, that such a steadfast purpose of transmuting bitter to sweet can only be engendered by Christianity. When, therefore, shortly after Edith's arrival at Torweston, the hand of affliction came over the lady who had supplanted her, be< sides being moved by compassion, Edith also saw an oppor- tunity of confirming her own strength. Putting aside his dislike of Hanaford, the vicar at once told the doctor of his visitor's wishes and experience, and Mr. Kekewich himself strongly urged Mrs. Wallace to avail herself of the proffered assistance. Nevertheless, it was % trial for Edith to meet Hugh once again, for as \ Kempis says, — as referred to in the 382 UPON THIS ROCK. •i 1- i !,. % m nventh chapter of this history, — Natura inclinat ad creaiuras^ BO that ofttimes when we delude ourselves that the former fires are extinguished, and that the crater where they leaped and bubbled is now a smooth and verdant level, we are liable to be confounded by an eruption of the same old flame. How- ever, the ordeal she had most feared had been undergone, and despite the fact that her whole organization yet tingled with the subtile influence evoked by the grasp of his hand, Edith returned to the sick chamber with her mind more tranquil than it had been for years. As for our hero, he had learned, as we all should do, to con- trol his emotions. Active experience among men will some- times impart this self-mastership, although far less certainly than men of action would have us believe. Now, as of yore, is philosophy the mistress of life, alike potent to ward off dis- dain of the lowly cottage or envy of the splendid palace. He had loved Eklith Allyn with all the warmth and fervour of a first love, and he knew there was no disloyalty to Blanche involved in the acknowlalgment to himself that he loved Edith still. He instituted no comparison between his feel- ings for her and Blanche ; his love for his beautiful and noble wife was altogether without alloy, and he looked forward with glad anticip&cion to a time when they could unite in regard- ing Edith as a dear and honoured sister. Nor was this anti- cipation at all impaired by his knowledge of the different theories which underlay and regulated their respective lives, for he thought he knew Edith well enough to warrant the assurance that in due time she would be brought to see that, in the case of himself and Blanche, what the superficial ob- 80!l THIS ROCK. 38.t I creaturas, the former hey leaped e are liable kme. How- ergone, and ingled with tiand, Edith ore tranquil J do, tocon- a will some- 38S certainly r, as of yore, ward off dis- palace. He fervour of a ' to Blanche lat he loved een his feel- Eul and noble forward with ite in regard- Kras this anti- the different ipective lives, warrant the it to see that, iperficial ob- the identifi- which short- |od by way of While these ade his way »r, he heard ith his usual Iween the fire and various ry that your depress jrou. But it is the common lot, Hugh, the common lot. As for my- self, it might be just as well this way as any other, but for our dear one it is very sad." " She is much better, cousin," replied Hugh, " so much so that I am to see her in the morning. And now tell me all about yourself, so that I may be able to give her a faithful report, and I hope one that will cheer her no less than the consciousness of her own assured restoration to health and happiness." " Have you seen Owen since your ret&rn ? " inquired the Squire. " He has been with me nearly all day, and has bene- fited me more than the medicine." " He is sound asleep in his cot, cousin ; but you must answer my question. Tell me all about yourself and your feelings, I entreat you." " Well, my dear boy, Tim has told you that I have been more than half drowned, when the boat ' turned turtle,' as Wallikce called it yesterday. At first the doctors thought I had suffered some internal injury, but when I beard them say so I felt very much like one of the two unbelievers who are said to be inseparable from three doctors. There is no inter- nal injury, Hugh, and I shall soon be all right again, but you do not need to be told that when an old land-lubber like I am finds himself turned over in a boat he is liable to be very much upset. Ha, ha ! " and cousin Maurice actually laughed very much in his old pleasant manner. " Now I want you to write a few lines to Tom Cahill, if you are not too tired, tell- ing him all you know respecting the accident, for should he by any chance come to know anything from the newspapers., he would instantly cross over. Tell him that I am not half so much hurt as frightened, and that I am getting over that now." Our hero, very glad to find his cousin so full of hope in his speedy recovery, wrote at once to Father Tom. The remainder of the evening was occupied in hearing the Squire's account of the capsizing of the Lily, and with Hugh's recital of his own doings in London, the new book being, of course, produced for criticism of its binding and general appearance. Long before lie retired to rest, Hugh was convinced that his cousin's temperament was a by no means inconsiderable factor in pro- moting his recovery. The painful symptoms attendant upon his restoration to consciousness, and which were for some time r 384 UPON Tfiia Rocic. \\'.. W ](■!-• . f I ! thereafter considered to indicate interral injury, had departed, and the proneness of age to forget rectnt occurrences was al- ready tending to diminish the violence of the shock. On the following morning Edith herself conducted onr hero to his wife's room, strictly enjoining oe him the necessity of avoiding excitcnunt. "I will allow you just ten minutes," she said, " and when I return you must retire. Remember thnt tranquillity is now our best ally. Tou must be as calm as possible." So saying, she opened the door, and Hugh followed her into the chamber. Not until she had seen hi n stoop and kiss the pale brow did Edith retire, shutting tho door behind her so noiselessly that for some moments they did not know she had gone. " My darling," said Hugh, holding Blanche's hand in both his own, " you have been very ill since I left you. They should have taken better care of you in my absence ; but you are better now, my love." » " Yes, dear," she replied, " I suppose I have been very ill, very near leaving you, T think. You cam**) home yesterday, the nurse tells me, and the improvement was coincident with your return. O Hugh ! I do not know how I fell ill ; I was not very much frightened by the accident." " It was the exposure, my love," said Hugh, " and perhaps your anxiety for our cousin ; but never mind now. You are restored to me, and will soon be well again. Do you know, my darling, that I seem to regret the old faith in so far as without it I cannot find words adequately to express my thank- fulness. For I am thankful, although I hardly know to what or to whom." " I know, dear," answered Blanche. " I, too, have the same happy emotion. But surely we may say, Thank (}od ! in the fulness of our gladness at the knowledge that the order of nature in this case coincides with our dearest wishes. For Ood, they tell us, is but Qood, therefore we may a^oostrophise it." " Well then, my darling, I will say Thank Qoe;ik ko ofte , mh i yon will iiini hor worthy of yr^Txr friiiiulship. Yea, she is a Christian, and a good one." " Was she at Culm Tor while " " Hush, ray love," said our hero with a smile, " or I shall have you asking why I did not fall in love with her. She ig, I am sure, an angel of mercy wherever she goes, and as an angel, my dear Blanche, we can love her. You remember the antiphon, ' Haac est virgo sapiens^ et una de numero prude'n- turn.* Well, I know Miss Allyn to be one of the wise and prudent, and you will like her very much." A light tap at the door was followed by the entrance of Edith. As she drew near the bedside Hugh said : " My love, this is Miss Edith Allyn, a valued friend in the past, a generous helper in the present." Edith bent for a moment to touch her patient's cheek, when Blanche raised her arm and drawing her nurse toward her greeted her with an affectionate kiss. ** He has told me of your goodness, dear," she whispered, " and oh, I am so grateful ! " " But you must not talk any more now, dear," said Edith, returning the kiss, " or the doctor will look very serious at 26 mm mil f ;f m- it, . ,!!!■ ' 1 . .. ■:| ^86 tPOlf THIS ttOOlt hU apprOAobing visit and will perhaps forbid Mr. Desmond's coming to see you for .v>me days." With a heart considerably lightened, our hero soon after started out to walk over to Tormav^. Almost every person he met in the street greeted him pleasantly and made kindly inquiry after the invalids, so that Desmond ex|'erienoed the pleasing sensation of feeling that he and his household were liked and respected throughout the little town. He found Mr. Wallace and Clymo about to cross the bay to the beach where the lugger was being refitted, and he at once volun- teered to take an oar. Thereupon the Lieutenant shipped the rudder and took the lines, and soon the light yawl was skimming over the blue water. On the way the Lieutenant gave our hero a graphic account of the accident, blaming himself rather severely. However, Hugh's assurance that no one could have foreseen such a calamity, and that, after all, the consequences would not be serious, gradually restored Mr. Wallace to his own good graces. The party returned to Tor- weston in the lugger, and as she entered the Pool a shout of welcome arose from the wharves and the fishing boats. The Lieutenant dined at the Cot that day, finding to his great delight that the Squire was so far recovered as to be present, and he listened very meekly while Maurice mischiev- ously commented on the inconsistency of a naval officer being unable to navigate a fishing-boat. At last, finding that hl^ friend seriously thought he was being deservedly rebuked, ths Squire said : " But, my dear Lieutenant^ sure I am only joking. The boat was doomed to cp/psize that day, and she did so." " You can predicate some such iate for all under-ballasted craft, — aye, and for such men and women too, I suppose, "said Hugh ; "bvt, at any rate, thel lugger has ballast enough now." " Kismet, kismet ! it was the hand of Fate," cried the Squir^ " which took this way of bringing together the two loveliest and best women in the world. I saw and talked with the lady who is nursing Blanche this morning, and I am now over head and ears in love. Mrs. Wallace," continued the old gentleman, " your husband's seamanship is going to prove the means of reconciling the Christian religion and sceptical philosophy." iflik ■ UPON .^HIS ROCK. 387 Pesmond's soon after yery person ade kindly rienoed the lehold were He found to the beach once volun- ant shipped it yawl was I Lieutenant ent, blaming ance that no * lat, after all, restored Mr. urned to Tor ol a shout of boats. inding to his ered as to be trice mischiev- II officer being [ding that hfe y rebuked, th« m only joking. [he did 80." inder-ballast«d suppose," said u enough now.' kte," cried the {ether the two [nd talked with and I aro now continued the going to prove and sceptical CHAPTER XLI. " THE STATBLT FLOWKB OP FEMALK FORTITUDE.'* I HOLD it to be well-nigh incontrovertible, dear reader, that the world seldom appears more pleasant to the senses than it does daring one's recovery from a serious illness. Except in that higher resipiscentia when the mind emerges from the slough of despondency into which it has fallen when some long-cherished idol or belief, — ^for years implicitly trusted to and revered, — has been dislodged, overturned, and shat- tered, there is no other regeneration wherein the feeling of unification with Nature is so absolute and so delightful. If, as in the case of Blanche Desmond, the time of convalescence be in early summer, when the trees and flowers are at their best and brightest, the mated birds in uucloyed enjoyment of coujugalism, and the sweet, healthy juices spreading vigour through every leaf and fibre of the oak and every joint and grain of the rustling cereal, then is the pleasure all the greater, especially if the illness have been sufficiently grave to threaten, as the astrologers used to say, the house of life. If, poet^like, we wanted a simile, we might perhaps compare such a conval- escence to the change of heart produced in a sinner who has '< gone the pace " by that mysterious Methodistic process called instantaneous regeneration. On second thoughts, however, we bethink ourselves that poetry has nothing in common with hypocrisy, cant, and humbug ; therefore, dear reader, we beg leave to drop the simile, confining our pen to the less preten- tious duty of recording the leading events in the lives of the protagonists in this our chronicle. Before the farmers and yeomen of Devonshire had quite made up their minds to commence operations in the harvest field. Lady Blanche was so far restored as to be driven out in the carriage every day. Between her and Eklith a warm friendship had been established, and when Dr. Hanaford, — mindful of the fact that the approaching fishing season would be somewhat too pregnant with evil odours to accord well with a delicate person, — suggested a tour on the Continent, Blanche earnestly pleaded with Edith thi*t she would consent to accom- pany them. Fo some time she was unsucc^osful in obtaining l^^r consent, until Hu^h him.self, — ha vino; discovered t|)at|)ditb ^ t ii- It' Ul. f ' .c;! 'I f. ,; l:i i ! r &';i 388 UPON THiff BOCK. had no immediate intention of resuming her mission in London, — urged her to take on pity her friends. Seeing that she wavered, Blanche kissed her and said : '* Write to your aunt, dear, and ask her advice if you will Tell her how much I desire to have you with me as a dear sister, that in my present state of weakness I should prove a terrible burden to my husband, and should be compelled to look to Madeleine for such direction as only a lady could give. Tell her all this and more ; say that I, who have never had a sister, have now found one in you, and that^ at least for the present, your true mission is by her side." Thus entreated, Edith found her resolution wavering until at last she agrued to write to her aunt Mildred and in some measure to be guided by her advice. It could not well be otherwise, because she found that there were (t -a thousand tongues to allure her, And but one to bid her go."* The evening before the answer from Mrs. Toynbee arrived, however, something occurred that rendered it much easier for Edith to grant her friend's request. She and Blanche were siyting together in a room overlooking the street, both being interested in the excitement and perturbation caused through- out the town by the intelligence that a large " school " of pilchards was in the bay, and that at least two seines had succeeded in enclosing enough fish to set hundreds of busy hands at work the next morning, Our hero and his cousin, carried away with the general ardour, had accepted an invita- tion from Mr. Dunn to go out in his boat to behold the brilliant spectacle of an immense circular net crowded with myriads of dazzlingly phosphorescent prisoners, and their return was not looked for much earlier than midnight. Gradually, as the evening advancd, the unlighted streets became less interesting, so that Edith soon drew the curtains and rang for the lamp to be brought up. '* And now, dear," she said to Blanche, " if you are not t>oo tired, I will read you a lew chapters of * Middlemareh.' Let me see, I think we left off at chapter fifty-three, the mmting between Raffles and Bulstrode : shall I go on dear ! " "Not unless you particularly wish to do so., dear," returned * ^9P the beautiful erotic song. " Dulciba," in the Pepfs CoUeotioQ, UPON THIS ROCK. '389 jondon, lat she rou will a dear prove a elled to y could ire never at least ing until , in wine well be e arrived, easier for iche were oth being I through- ichool" of eines had of busy is cousin, an invita- ^e brilliant lyriads of fn was not [y, as the teresting, le lamp to Ire not too fch.* liet moeting returned leotipn, Blanche. " I hope you will not mind my saying that I find the hook excessively dreary. It is surely a needless waste of energy so microscopically and finically to analyze the motives of even the most insignificant actions of so many uninteresting people. I really feel that the paragons of virtue whom the last century novelists were wont so opportunely to deliver from the toils of Comus would be a relief to thes^ preternaturally dull Dorotheas and Rosamonds. I think, dear, I would i-athor hear you sing, or if you prefer it let us sit here and talk." " I did not quite like to say so," said Edith, " but I have often thought, since we began to read it, that the book was uncommonly dull. But I was almost afraid to think ao with respect to a writer so emitu^nt and so gifted." " Yes, dear, custom and fashion make cowards of us all in such matters. Geon^e Eliot is, as you say, nobly endowed by nature, hut her exi i lonliimry egoism has been even more dis- proportionately develoj)ed by too much solitude and by too concentrated devotion to literature. Just as the innate con- ceit of every German s;,ud«int, — you know I read German, — induces him to add his quota to the dust-heap of schul/uchserei^ or pedantry, which the Teutons call philosophy, so doeK George Eliot bring all the tests and instruments of her laboratory to illustrate and explain the motives of very commonplace characters. Let us, at lea-st for the time, leave ' Middlemarch ' to the admiration of those fledgling world-reformers of both sexes whose enthusiasm for humanity induces them to put pencil-marks in the margins of the novels they borrow from the circulating library. See here, for instance," — and Blanche took up the book, — " is one such mark, aad a whole line udder- scored by a somewhat unsteady hand. What is the past^ga ? ' This is the big folks' world, this is.' Yet there is, it seems to me, no great profundity in this remark " " It is," replied Edith, " certainly no very original discoveiy, for King Solomon says that ' The rich ruleth over the poor,' that ' Wealth maketh many friends,' and so on in his pro- verbs." "You are very familiar with the Bible, Edith," said Blanche ; "it .is seldom that you fail to find some passage ap- posite to the subject of conversation." " It is an inexhaustible treasury of wisdom, dear," returned Edith. " and I 4o not think tl^at human life will ever be |Q t*"**! i ' It' ,1 W} I i I ' 1 t' ' It i ' V'^ i'"i iX mmmmmm 590 UPON THIS ROCK. changed as to its conditions that the Scriptures will lose their adaptability of application." " It may be so, my dear," said Blanche, " because, as my husband says, their maxims are those of men who studied human nature in its simplest and truest forms, forms which still subsist, however veiled and perhaps disfigured by the *veneer of subsequent civilizations. Hugh iu still very fond of the Old Testament^ but I was brought up a Roman Catholic, and I am, therefore, not so well acquainted with the Bible. I should so much like to hear from you something about Hugh when he was at Culm Tor. What did you think of him then? " The question was so unexpected that Edith was altogether unprepared to meet it. A vivid blush overspread her coun- tenance, and for a moment she could not hide her confusion. Lady Blanche saw this with astonishment, and with a woman's intuition she recognized at once that her companion was strangely agitated. " Why, Edith dear," she said, " what does this mean t My question has annoyed you. I see it all, my love, I think. Is this your secret ? and perhaps the reason why you scrupled to go abroad with us ? " Edith's only answer was to fall on her knees and hvrj her head in the folds of Blanche's dress. For a few moments there was a painful silence, broken at last by Blanche, who, gently stroking the chestnut hair, said : " And so you loved him, little one, and he did not know it? Is that so ? " " I think he knew it, dear, before we parted," answered Edith, " but it was only a dream. Ob, forgive me, and let me go. How can I remain here should he come to know of this?" " But he will never know it, Edith, and the tie that binds you and me shall be all the stronger for this. How could it have been otherwise, and he so good, so beautiful, so noble ? He thinks of you as the old saint« thought of their angels, dear. I do not blame you for having loved hiiu, Edith ; I almost think I should be vexed had he not influenced you in some degree as he influenced me. But will you not be his sister too, now that you are mine? Believe ^me that he is worthy of the love of such a sister." " I am quite sure of that," replied Edith, " and I have long vipce acknowledged that it was a higher wisdom than inin^ Ut>0t7 TftiS ROOit. 391 ose their le, •» niy ) studied IDS which id by the ry fond of I Catholic, Bible. I )Out Hugh lim then I altogether i her coun- • confusion. 1 a woman's janion was meant My [ think. Is I scrupled to ind bury her )W moments lanche, who, [not know iti " answered [ me, and let to know of \e that binds [ow could it al, so noble 1 their angels, Im, Edith; I pneed you in not be his [e that he is I have long Lm than min^ tkat fashioned both our destinies. Just now I imagined that perhaps your husband, dear, had hinted to you that in the old days at Culm Tor, when we were thrown together, I had, — in short, that I had shown myself not insensible to the influ- eaod you speak of." " No, dear," said Blanche, -' Hugh is not one of those who pride themseves upon what the world terms their conquests. It was your tell-tale blushes, dear, that sufficiently betrayed the secret. I saw in a moment that there was an old memory by which you were troubled. But is there no later memory powerful enough to reconcile you to, — to, — I mean, hav« you never met another worthy of the love of so noble and, let me say, so beautiful a woman ? " " I do not think I shall ever marry," returned Edith, " I am already as sober as an old maid, dear. I have seen so much of human wretchedness that I have felt it my duty to devote my life to the service of Qod's poor. I shall probably join a sisterhood after my return to London." " But you will not leave us yet, Edith ? you will go with us to sunny Italy, and perhaps before we return you may dis- cover that it is not necessary for one who would serve human- ity to abjure and sunder herself from the cares and pleasures, the good and evil of social life. Surely those who are agitated by the same sorrows best know how to minister to the afflicted?" " Well, dear, provided aunt Milly dots not object, I will go," she said. " The little secret you have discovered makes, — I mean your knowledge of it makes it much easier for me to accede to the proposal. It was, dear, absolutely buried on the morning of your marriage ; it was to assure myself of this that I went to St. Ambrose's that morning." ** Is it possible that you were there 1 " inquired Blanche. " Yes," she said, " it was there that I first saw you, dear, in all your queenly beauty : and you will not be angry if I say that when I saw you my disappointment, — if we may so call it, — passed aw£,y. We will never speak of this again, dear, if you please, so forgive me when I add that when I saw your face as you left the altar I knew that Providence had guided Hugh Desmond in his choice of a wife." "You little flatterer 1" said Blanche, "to speak of my queMily beauty in this manner. Do you want to make me ■M mmeawsaasam 5, [Hi ;i* i! ! : f'VM '< 4 i4 f'.l 392 tJPON THIS ROOK. ** Whftr. the Accident befell you and I heard of }Our illness,'* continued Edith, '* a great longing came upon me to be near you, to render you some little service, to help in rescuing Mr. Desmond's wife perhaps from death. I never dreamed that you would grow tc like me so much, to grant me your friend- ship," — she aaid artlessly, — " or perhaps I might have foreseen that you would come to learn the secret, and thus I should — " " Not have proved the dear sister you have shown yourself," interrupted Blanche, "dearer now, if possible, than before. Kiss me, Edith dear ; the destiny that has so strangely con- nected onr lives is a kind one to me, at least. And now will you not tell me whether or not my husband in his manhood fulfils the promise of his youth ? " The perfect understanding established between the friends could not have been better demonstrated than it was daring the remainder of thhi discourse. Edith's generous acknow- ledgment that Hugh was both physically and mentally all that his early friends could have ventured to anticipate was so ti'anquilly giv«)n that shn might almost have been a sister in reality recounting her brother's praises. Very gently and tenderly, — almost timorously, — did she express her regrev that our hero was not a Christian. " It seems so strange," she said, " that this should be so, for Mr. Desmond was once so very earnest a Christian, so very zealous a churchman. And to think that one who, — as I once heard uncle say, — might have proved so able a champion of the faith, should now be without hope of a future and ' without God in the world.' " "Then you think that human life without the hope of heaven is a sort of objectless drifting from nothing to no- where ? " asked Blanche. " It is not quite correct to describe Mr. Desmond as being * without Qod in the world,' for both he and I recognize Qod in all things, — not indeed a personal Being capable of morphological imaginings, but the Universal Being only to be apprehended by himself known only as a whole to his own consciousness.'* " I am not a controversialist, dear," said Edith, " and I know I am far from clever and not at all profound. But I think I see clearly that in order to know aught of his will we should expect the Universal Being to reveal himself to us as a personality. Otherwise we should indeed, as you say, be only drifting from nothing to nowhere, without a guide, with- be so, for n, so very -as I once trnpion of * without hope of ing to no- > describe ' for both I personal (Jniversal :>nl7 as a b, "and I 1. But I is will we f to us as u say, be ide, with- ^PON THIS ROCK. . *"* a haven excenf fK« ^^ r^ued from this ll^teS' ^^'^'""^ ^--«ver, we are ^hich really «eeai/to L rL^® condition of blind alt- " ThMf ""• "^"'.f 'y o« it" '** *" '•••'• what atonement fh . •^*'*?° *°^ i'^tensify Jthln^^^'^''^^® *^»»« «nd fina?Iy *th * "} ?^ '"^^^^^'i^iation or un^^^^^^^ P^??^«« of lives." '^ *^« Plainest directions by wMch tl "^'^ ®^^' « Y«« » « regulate our ^tno:;drTh«^^"°°^*'''»"*hisIamn,osf •„• but what if ?k r ^"Perstrucfcure is shan^^ i* "^'"'"fi^ *<> thatThe wL^ ^*^"«^*«on »>« not a^^u^T ^r,""*^ consistent, indistinPf '*?«°ah, or prairie even fK u"* .^°" "°* ^^ow unabk'^'" ""'' Christian 'ret ^ ">e grounclw„t ol fined wi°tM"°»r"'."« *» -»-«'Pe"!:oftL k"''''''!!""* "'"d !?'i*"*g"»v^e, a serious one Tn^K^x^"''^ the distinction 2^' «« r^« » «7fc:^ :^ I' 1 1 ■h I'li i :?■ U'' 1 hi .'^ :|i i T*l^ !t^P % J| Ml i ' 394 UPOH THIS ROCK. of all reason to refuse to obey the dictates of one's reMon t Would not such a refusal be th« greatMt of sins, — that is, a sin against conscience t " " It may be so," said Edith. " I suppose one must hunantly endeavour to live up to one's convictions : although where there is the least shadow of a doubt that, after all, one's reason may be at fault, it is surely best not to break away from that which has been and is the source of hope and con- solation, the fountain of good to so many millions. When I reflect upon the terrible evils that encompass us, the iffickness, the want, the sorrow, the unequal distribution of the world's wealth, and the long-drawn agony that life is to thousands, I think sometimes that it is only religion that makes society tolerate its own burdens." *' And in so thinking, dear, you are probably right," ob- served Blanche, " but do you never think that the same reli- gion that makes us acquiesce in the burdens, as being of divine ordination, is primarily responsible for their existence ? " " I fear I do not quite understand your meaning. Surely you cannot hold Christianity responsible for the evils of life ? " " I fear there is no other alternative, dear, although I dis- tinguish between th teachings of Jesus, — who loved mankind so ardently that selfishness and hypocrisy stood wilted, shame- faced, and in all their naked deformity in his presence, — and tne system which has grown up under his name. Moreover, Edith, the burdens are none the less real and hard to endure because the force which compels endurance can avail itself of the supposed decrees of He.'.>ven in extenuation and justifica- tion of its own exercise." "Yes," replied Edith, "life's burdens are hard to bear, much harder in our present civilization than they seem to have been in the past. But so long as men require to be governed at all there must be force of some kind, because government implies force, and the tyrant Necessity would always furnish a justification. The decrees which you qualify as ' supposed ' have had their potency counterbalanced and influenced by the operation of the assurance contained in the words, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' The effect we can surely recognize in the benevolence which has raised count> less institutions for the alleviation of suffering, and which We know to be quietly, unostentatiously at work daily and hourly UPON THIS ROCK. 305 Mont ; is, » where , one'* : away i con- hen I jkness, jirorld's isands, gociety It," ob- me reli- leing of bence 1 " Surely ►flifel" 5h I dis- nankind ghame- and oreover, endure itself of ustifica- se, wherever those who call themselves by the Christian name are to be found. May it not be, dear, that the evils we de* plore exist not because of but in opposition to and disregard of religion ? Is it not appalling to reflect upon the revolution which must inevitably come upon the social fiabric when the force you speak of shall lose its influence 7" * " You forget, dear," said Blanche, " that the benevolence or altruistic sentiment of which you speak has become so much a part of our nature that it is now independent of the illusions which so powerfully affected the lives and characters of those whose teachings first made it imperative. It has become a habit, and reason, — being well assured of its salutariness, — is able to warrant and support it on the strong ground of necessity. Are we not therefore assured that the revolution which is to come will be mildly conducted, however thorough and complete it may be ? Of one thing we may be reasonably confident, — that human society will always endeavour to mould itself in accordance with what it believes to be true, be the consequences what they may, and that Error will never be perpetuated merely because of a craven apprehension that it is a more comfortable thing than Truth." Edith did not at once reply, but sat with her gaze directed to the ground. When her eyes were again lifted to her com- panion's face it was with an inquiring look. " May I ask, dear," she said, " if your distrust o£ Christianity began with your acquaintance with Mr. Desmond, or had you felt some doubts before ) " " I think of the two I was the earlier sceptic, Edith, my investigations having been promoted by the extraordinary commotion excited by the discussions that everywhere followed upon the promulgation of the dogma of Papal Infallibility. * Gold win Smith, with characteristic readiness to acknowledge conse- quences, has clearly recognized that the overthrow o( the current theory of life is sore to result in the eompiete revolution of society. In a paper in the New York " IndependeSt," on " Polemica^nd Propagandist Novels," he says : " Issues the most momentous are beHM the world . Man is brought face to face, as he never was before, with the awful problem of his being. It is a secondary consideration compared with spiritual truth, but one which is serious enough in its way, that the social fabric is not less in jeopardy than spiritual life, since nothing can be more certain than that society in Chris- tian communities has hitherto been based upon religion." Such a chronicle as this we know that Mr. Smith (whose aversions are never ooncealed) doen not like, although the chronicler strives to be as impartial as befits the task he has undertaken. Nevertheless,— despite the insults and derision of cer- tain so-called Radicals who dislike his sturdv, old-fashinnod patriotism.- - the opinions of the Profe.OlY TfilS KOClL At any rate^ I found that in some things my mind had pi^ ceded Mr. Desmond's, so much so that I was often able to suggest what books we should read in our subsequent investi- gations/' " Perhaps, dear," said Edith, " your absolute repudiation of religion may have been in some measure caused by the idea that in the most extreme rationalism there was the only logical antithesis to Romanism." '* By no means, Edith," returned Blanche, " I think that logic very shallow which insists that the mind can find no resting-place between what the world terms infidelity and Ultramontane Catholicism. On the contrary, I am quite assured that in your own Church the world possesses a form or system of Christianity much more akin to that established by the apostles of Jesus ; yes, I am fimly convinced that the Anglican Church is wider, freer, purer, more all-embracing and all-appealing than any of its rivals, — or, as you would say, than either of its sister churches. Its historical claims are in- defeasible, and if it were possible for my reason to assent to the claims made by and for the Founder of Christianity I should deem it my duty to become, like yourself, a member of the Church of England. I agree with Mr. Desmond that in your communion we behold individual piety and personal religion at their very highest and best ; surely, my dear, you do not regard us as belonging to those fanatics whose devotion to reason is chiefly manifested in objurgating all that is most decidedly Christian ? We are not professional unbelievers, Edith, endeavouring like cheap-Jacks to extol our own prin- ciples by disparaging and traducing those of others." " I wish Dr. Hanaford could hear you say this, dear," re- marked Edith, " for he is terribly zealous, and once or twice since I have been here he has tried to inveigle me into a dis- cussion." "Yes, I know," answered Blanche, " for he told Mr. Des- mond! that you were a Biautiful Bigot. Fancy that, my dear ; the doctor's failure to entrap you found expression in that alliteration. Mr. Desmond answered that he — Dr. Hanaford — had no drug in his dispensary that could so reconcile one to life as the reposeful faith that belonged to such bigotry as yours. And I think he chose an appropriate term, dear Edith, when he called your faith reposeful. You are abso- lutely free from the pessimism so common nowaday, I believe." ] had t>rd< en able to 9nt investi- "epudiation by the idea I the only bhink that in find no delity and am quite sses a form established d that the )racing and would say, ims are in- ) assent to ristianity I member of 3nd that in i personal f dear, you Be devotion lat is most inbelierers, : own prih- I, dear," re- ie or twice into a dis- i Mr. Des- b, my dear ; 3n in that lanaford — icile one to bigotry as term, dear >u are abso- , I believe." trrON THIS ROCK. "If We 1 ^^^ Church „„,S.\::^?,''™*^'M«ter upon «rth and the Hi. feet and to berto be^,r^. r*"'"* '° ""row ouwelve. .? we must give ycu.^"!''-, '^«'««<' Edith. . "So^," to J at O'" "■" *-* "^"8 w. can ^Hji^l^t^^ -cStriH?^»;ssr^ respecting von .K.^1*"^ companion. "Thpr** o— / faith f^ K y^^^^^f wrote the good lariv 7. / t '^^ °** ^^ars twth to be assured. Whocan v^nf 7' ^°*' ^ J^^ow your that your influence on the CZ J""^' ^'^^^^^'^ topronoince fain have it prove ? " Her r?-i "' ' "^"^ ''^^ ^ *« I ^"uld firmed, Edith AlJyn qSv 1^ .""''^J^ *'*"»'»» ^^'^^ been con i,^ m 4( "•'!i '^ 398 oi>oir Tfiis itoot. CHAPTER XLII. LOITBBING, LISTENING, LEA RHINO. OUR hero and his party were seated in a vine-wreathed bower or latticed arbour of the hotel-gardens directly overlooking the old town of Mentone. The gardens sloped almost abruptly down to the waters of the eastern bay, those waters which so faithfully mirror the warm blue sky al)Ove them. In all the world, I trow, there is no lovelier coast than this of the Riviera, a loveliness at once soft and majestic, balmy and invigorating. Very fragrant, too, was the air in this garden, where orange, lemon, palm, and heliotrope all contributed to gratify the senses of the lotus-eaters who throng hitherward every winter from climes less favoured, — from the damp, foggy island home of the great master-race, and from the far-extending region across the ocean where for more than a hundred years other children of that race have been con- ducting a great experiment and pressing onward, perchance to universal empire, as though determined to make a singularly unpropitious Nature attune itself to their will. Sheltered from the cold winds of the north by the giant ramparts of the AlpcB Maritimes, — and indeed protected from every other wind that 'is baneful, — Blanche Desmond grew rapidly stronger, and now that winter was over she herself had pro- posed that before returning to England they should visit Florence and Rome, and perhaps Naples. There was but one more day remaining for their stay in Mentone, and this they had agreed to spend in an expedition across the Pont St. Louis, and to picnic a little distance beyond Mortola at a spot affording a full view of the eastern coast beyond Ventimiglia and to the point of sunny, palmy, gleaming Bordighera. Hugh Desmond and his cousin the Squire, seated on camp- stools outside the arbour, had just lighted their cigars, when three gentlemen, two of whom had dined at the hotel that day, approached from the sea-wall at the bottom of the gardens. As they drew near, one of them, — ^whose dress in- dicated that he was a priest, — courteously saluted the cousins, his bow becoming much more profound when he caught sight of the ladies within the arbour. At the same moment a tall, thin man,: — the middle one of the trio, — stepped up to our hero and said : UPON THIS BOCK. 39f rreathed directly s sloped ky, those cy »lK)ve «8t than majestic, he air in trope all tio throng -from the and from nore than been con- rchance to singularly Sheltered ,rt8 of the ery other rapidly had pro- lould visit [as but one this they Pont St. at a spot tentimiglia lera. on oarop- ;ars, when hotel that of the dress in- le cousins, jght sight lent a tall, up to our " fizcuse me, sir, but I think we bare ikiet before. I felt convinced of that when I saw* you at the table d'hote, and for some time I cudgelled my poor brain to find out where I had seen you first. But now I recollect quite distinctly ; it was in the smoking room of Uie Norwood hotel, London, last May. I hope you will pardon me for recalling so trivial a matter, but here among foreigners the sight of an English face that one remembers always excites one to dispense with formality." ** I remember the occasion quite well, I assure yoa, sir," replied Hugh, rising, " although I am afraid my memory for faces is not so good as your own. You were, I presume, a member of the party to which Mr. Euripides Cicero Funk and Mr. De Boggs belonged. You are an American, I think 1 " " I was accidentally thrown among the party you mention, sir, that evening, but T . i y no claim to the honour of mem- bership in the Ethical >^.ciety of Chalcopolis. I am an Ame- rican, — not of the aborigines, believe me, — but my name," — and he presented his card, — " George Curtis Winthrop, is honest Anglo-Saxon, I think." *' Indeed it is," answered our hero, " but will you allow me to say that I have now and then encountered Anglo-Saxons from beyond the Atlantic who appeared to think that their race was something almost new and distinct, and that political severance has long since abolished kinship V " No doubt, no doubt, sir," said Mr. Winthrop. " I too have known many Englishmen who have acted, — ay, even when among us in America, — much as though it were pre- sumptuous on our part to claim consanguinity. But we are English, sir, English to the core ; — in nothing more so than in our ability to Americanize, that is, to Anglicise, all the dis- cordant elements that stream within our ever-open gates. Britoiut, Danes, Swedes, Norwegians, Normans, were each and all, in your little island, grafted on to the leading stock ; we are doing the same on a larger scale, but the result will be the same. We are transfusing the best blood of all the nations, and are preparing the way for the great confederation of Eng- lish empires which is destined to encircle the world." " A magnificent prospect, and I think a well-founded one," returned Hugh ; " but I am atraid that I ought to apologize for my neglect to observe that this arbour is as much yours u mine. Pray be seated, gentlemen ; I think ^^ shall all V^q glftd to waive oevemoay," lh\ 400 UPON THIS ROOK. Bj no means reluctant, the strangers, having courteously saluted the ladies, accepted the invitation, and in a few minutes the whole gathering began to feel as unrestrained as though they were each and all old acquaintances. The ecclesiastic belonged to Yentimiglia, where he occupied a position of some dignity among the regular clergy, and it soon appeared that he had also a distinct recollection of having seen Lady Blanche and Edith, whom he had encountered during one of their walks in the delightful Val-de-Mentone. The third gentleman was a Scotchman, a retired surgeon, whose name was familiar enough to Hugh Desmond, who at once discovered him to be a man whom he had long wished to meet. In and among what may be termed the professional clubs of London there lives an indeterminate, unsettled class, composed mainly of veterans of the army and navy, of the civil service, and of various other branches of public employment. Here you may meet men whose fathers were steady-going grocers, drapers, chandlers and coal-merchants in country towns, — men who would scorn to write letters on note-paper headed with any others crest than that of their club, — and the sons of younger sons whose careers, without being brilliant, have neverthelean been worthy of the ancient names they ^ore. Many of them have been shelved or superannuated in oraer that the promo- tion to which they were entitled might be given to others whose influence was greater ; but the magnanimous old fel- lows, beyond an occasional growl among themselves, do not suffer their disappointment to become manifest. Probably there are more bachelors among these men than any other class much more numerous — unles^s devoted to celibacy — could show, the rationale of this being that, in the first place, their roving lives have seldom been conducive to matrimony ; and, secondly, that their pensions would be wofully inadequate to the requirements of modern conjugal life. To this class be- longed Dr. Friser, thti third stransrer. In person he was tall and .s|)rtiv, h.i\iii«; proiniiicnt cheek bones, rather square jaws and rhin, and a very spare growth of sandy-gray side-whis- k IS. His I i«;hf-Li:ray eyes were, without being cunning, dis- tru^>^t'ul, and uiulef the excitement of contradiction they fairly glihteiu'd with doi,M!Kitisui ind intolerance. Self-sufficiency A'JiK- iitdiiuted, too, in the poisti of the head ; while the whole li(';ir*inL» of thi' m.in w;i,s sucli that, lo use a nautical expres- oiuii, he becui d to say, ' If there is on board this ship a rope unknown to me, I will thank you to tell me where it is, sir." tIFOlf. THM ROCK; 401 courteously few minutes i as though B ecclesiastic Ltion of some apeared that Lady Blanche one of their rd gentleman ) was familiar red him to be n and among London there sed mainly of ervice, and of Here you may ocers, drapers, ^s^^roen who aded with any sons of younger ive nevertheless Many of them that the promo- given to others Siimous old fel- Uselves, do not Ifest. Probably than any other , celibacy— could first place, their matrimony; and, iy inadequate to \, this class be- jrson he was tall Lther square jawa ' .gray side-whis- ng cunning, dis- iction they fairly ' Self-sufficiency vrhile the wltole unutical expres- X this ship a rope [where it is, sir. . jrhe)UpnaI.-iQOimj;0DnpiaceaihAvingb«et)r^^ tX\a climate ql, tk^i {^iTi«^ d«l(y! oomiaeBiAiedt Mr. . WintliiK)p, iurm^ijj^, 1Bd, my friend >I>e. iFra^er telkme tiia|t.7PiirAr'|ii« .baMd.-upon siipil#r, df^ta; Uh tliose , wbi^K' Mr» ^esmoud f h«a turned to >^ch gpod 4c^unt. lam nota literary, many'hQ.w9v0r,—^tbat i^to B«yy not a literary artist, -^t«o that I' baveii hadtoidepead mv^^>iipQP ptbeiVritO'exp^uad my thosis/' .;»r.^t,iU,f,»'. " Tl)»^ >miHft Irn ft! very uinsatisfactory method) I should tl)ipk,/'<»l^ryed. BJugh^ 'Vuniess,,; indeed, .you iiave beeu.for- tuna^reii.Qiiigh tof hit -uponr.some* expositor, whom you could rrtj^fti;^ .fMipjonr. cUtfir ^go w doubl^ganger, a much .miDte diifi- cultper^pnr ,ta disdov^r even than orvs's absolujta physical counterpart." ,,..,? tw'i j-..,-! nu i'.,-. •,(it,\,i\i. '^Yery ! true," said the other, ^ vary tru« If barvaj .I/may ■^ay, Tsm«ac)Eed. Grub 'Street from end.itoend, but I haveinever f Qund. a <»rri^r thoroughly, competent ta envisage xuy thesis. . X^ppular, writers and. mere dever easayista < and / book ,makeva w^oA . p^^nt^l capac'ity ; to underetaAid it, while .-. .the , poor sjpribblera ^wb0(;for, ar fiye^pound uotef.or so^ arci viUing to tac|f:lQ A^t arfk ,genevaUy too hungry tO; ba able to think/' Xa,iqaipij, respeota tbisi extraordinary man was an anomaly . |i«iViail«d.. to )do,^^that be . bad virtuaUy. recpn* cjl^d tb^ asiiwmf d, : antinomies scientific , a that his. collabprateuroslioqld receive du«^ credit for their work with the many, ia secret be Uubourtd iupe««HtiUy to^Qviuce^ clubipen, and th^ "calebritieH" of 36 ■•'•■■' m UPOK THIS SOOK. ( i r>--.-^ii \ Itteratar*, soiiMioe, and art» that he was the oHl^iial t!iink«f^ the parent of the work done at his bidding bj Grub Street hacks. Apart from this little vanity, by which his efforts and the dissemination of his principles were so frustrated and re- tarded, he was a pleasant companion, being not only well fibreast of scientific discovery and invention, but being at the same time well read in the Humanities. While no one under- stood pathologically the so-called temperament of genius better than he did, it may be doubted whether any one would be disposed to judge it more severely. On the other hand, his essentially insular recognition of the over-balancing merits of rank, station and wealth might afford a fair excuse for mu(^ of the current prejudice against Materialism. " Well, Dr. Fraser," returned Hugh, «* I am glad to be able to thank you in person for what your philosophy has done for me. The little book of which you speak is the result of my application of your master-k^, and I think you will find, iC you honour me so far as to look into the preface of the book, that I have in some sort acknowledged my obligation to your most suggestive manual. Indeed, to tell the exact truth,-— and if I am guilty of a breach of good manners I crave pardon beforehand, — there is a dear friend present who it carefully studying, not my book, but yours." A slight blush mantled Edith Allyn's cheek as she said : " If, as I infer, Mr. Fraser is the author of the treatise I am reading, I ought to thank him for his simplification of a principle that I have before now turned away from in some* thing like despair as an esoteric transcendental hypothesis." " Miss Allyn alludes to the doctrine of Relativity, which, now that she understands its bearings and import, is, I be- lieve, considerably modifying her old opinions," said Hugh. " I am flattered to learn that Miss Allyn thinks I have simplified an3rthing, for I am only too conscious that by writ* ing as I think, — and my thoughts are rather more Oennan than English, — my meaning is generally somewhat obscure. But, Mr. Desmond, I cannot fefrain from expressing my ad- miration of the skill and power with which you have, in your book, applied this Idealism as a solvent of all the fupe^ natt^ralisms and superstitions of all ages, reducing them all to mere self-worship. Perhaps you do not su^ciently insist upon the absolute certainty that the ideating mind is nothing more | than «u outcome <^ matter, the inert crude matter <^ our prd- Ut'OK THIS ROCK. 403 3rab Street ; efforts and kted and re* b only well being at the » one under* ;eniai better te would be ler band, bit ing merite of die for mudi ad to be able baa done for result of my 1 will find, i! I of tbe book, Ration to your xact trutb,— ; crave pardon 10 it carefully ■be laid : le treatise I fication of a from in some- hypotbeais." tivity, which, port, ii, I be- ■aid Hugh, thinks I have that by writ- more German what obscure, esstngmy •d* bavc, in yout ftll the ■upe^ ng them all to bly insist upon nothing more Hter of pur pr«^ soienti&B forefathers. You see," — continued Dr. Fraser,< — that I am very di^matio, but I am necessarily so. We stand upon a rock when we are enabled to grasp Uris autosistic or hylo4dealistio thesis ; yes, Father Sistori, upon a rock stronger than that of Peter, I assure you." Thus addressed, the priest bowed to the ladies, and said with a smile and in good English : ** I have long known that the English ladies, like the Ger- man mothers of whom Tacitus wrote, share the studies and speculations of their husbands and brothers. It is not so with us of the Latin races. We are more emotional, and for us a religi6n, and that a stronffly, vividly emotional one, is a neces- sity. I have seen English and American ladies proetraite themselves before the Host ; I have also seen pilgrims from both countries in 9t Peter's -^t Roue ; but, corpo di Bacco ! the Alps are not colder than they are before a holy image. You have, signora," — here the Abbate addressed Lady Blanche, — '* you have seen some of our village fdtes here in our mountain slopes! Yes, I thought so ; and you have titorefore observed the devotion of our simple Ligurians to the tawdry wooden heroes and heroines of the processions. It is absurd, you say, irrational ; I know it is, but Apollo and Venus, can we restore them, or the nature-worship of which they were emblems ? It is false, perhaps f well, what then, if the illusion is satisfactory, if it render life and its hardships more tolerable? Look at the poor workers in your own cities : corpo di Bacco ! you have taken away their old reli- gion, and your social system can only be typified by un effort d^imagination^ — let us say by a picture of law and order as two wet blankets spread over Vesuvius and pinned down by bayonets." "Trying to smother a volcano, eh, Abbate 1" said Mr. Winthrop, "a much better figure, by the way, t)r. Eraser, than our hackneyed one of Dame Partington and her broom." "To smother a v(^canO, indeed yes," returned the priest. " My brother, the Cardinal, was at the Vatican Council, and I have published his notes, of course, under a nom de plume. He was struck by the terrible earnestness of the Germams and of the English, whether they belonged to the placets or non- placets^ on the Infallibility question. Corpo di San Gtnnaro ! of course they were earnest ; Luther was earnest, Bf^z^, Zwingle, Calvin, — my faith, Calvin I— these were *U eari^ekt u M . 'iU fl'»<»>1 «|MI' /!i^^ipD|rfli ]liQ Gfl^- i ,fe,!b^p,|b«^wul S!fwitf"*n^»n • ,|j|i^^Te ^pr^.us, and bpw iLluv^ (eluj^pai »i\4 hw q^^U;U^^p^«^^i|• are tr»n^^i^t»4 to ai^er l?y Ui^ rjai^g ipoon., , S^wl/ ii ^ a|l ;„ i,*,TRiva,;9»g|iqi',4bl^t^" j^i4 pu^ h^rp, '*;it > very; Ipraljr, Ji)ijit( oij4y^ w^t^b, thp. boivuty pi t(ie rejecting, and qi^Qati^pg. mind . I , Y Tru^^ , signore," r<5>)ie4 ttup, i otJ^Qr, f* I iqu^tp updew^nd i^t, ^]^ ^ucb « £hpugh^4g c^ljriorthefpWcnpt;for,,tb^ ,j.,„Y jn^PW^i I t)»mc 80," pWve^ JV[r. iwjnt^rpp, "^pr it ;Seeia9,tp npp t^at universal jde^^U^in ifould 9^^t up every fac- Itorjift^ P»*^ W ®^ *9 "tl^ ayatematic eatertipp." i^ " I, think |thatjnap9tp^.ua.?^ra^o ready,, tq accept the, ppipions pi /B\mppsp4.avi,t(^9ri^e9," s^id jL^y Blanche. " *.Ast pf l^e •.le»rn<^d. ^ ifirayr ^N : ^^ini^d aire . bli^d.' ftet so-called JR^la^;>t^;Hr£^y^HB9)Bm v^n^ble ^ recognize that idealism ia not ,a naere.n^atipnjpf thppyide^capf^eaf^se^ iTe^ th^/^i^^in object of the author of the 'Principlea of fiuman KnoM^ledge' waa^hp 9iiwf(^i " altho^gV X, have jrpa4 Sf, gi;^^,, dw pi the i Wt^g^P^'thpCrpnimpp-SeixseacI^ppl).'* , .,,,, .,.„!,,; ,y . y.M"\A echpol $ttiugly pr^id,e4 ovpr ,bjr «j ^iwflt/ pwa^akuU i whose aVxe^Qflitfi the greaje^t and aixpplpat pf truths jpipe)|fd hipa tip w»i^/I ;deapiae. Jhilpsqpby ap4,-''enpupcp its jguid* aivje** ? ^9V^le4 Pr. Fraaer, " Hp spe^s , pp .b^^e Wen the vioi^ira ,pf 8pme ,qer^br^^ /defect ux th^ part|icula^f , 4;n()i sp Uiis UOt possible to i;ndure."--Cife3ar, De Bello QftUico, 1, 39. ^^}? %^ ^itcrranean * very; Ipyely, .tbejmaAy." pp, "^or it p every fac- bh^, qpipiqns f^et so-ca,Hed f^liam is not e^tb« W#V Peir^i^Mr. lect^ Jma," ,,^4.o£the fCe its ;yui4- ^^e \>een the 4;n<)l 80 tbis t^Fow -r«is ^^,^ .'>*ve had buf lifJi , ^°*** '^"Bfiitirfi L • P*"*- ^" «verv with re.^r?!'!t"^ •«'*^P once turned a miserable the standard iter and pro- ' sordid and aven of hell, he idea of an inter on the just as often v raiment of once realize ete harmony n what you »r denying a loh one of us " for weal or sracterise the ly conviction, dversal recog- icover its way jady Blanche, r, that he is, )le8. Yonder it, because hii nts to ignoi'' ^^09 rata bock •n«e and miseir th ^^^ »»■■«. d«^ irl°S« ""'•"W ?„ ,«f ?""''•". "y dear The next XU iP'"''«'P'»"" ***»"' ">" after .11 •■"I hi. friend. ItJ'^.'^f'oh^l below .M ' i'J"'""''« <" for, « M,. ^Xr»„ ?;"• *<' Monaco .^TfJ^K*'"' ?'"«»■" y^^'S^£f^'[^'^^^^^^^-^'' •-.« *o.en •"7 -country areTf^ P"*" 'hat inanv^t" f ? P""'*'- that " Yo« meJ^wfe"""'* *• d««d/' ' '*'"'«''«'" P-^ons in ^'olnS^^'-i.^/'tr"''-' ■" «'« Hugh . « Tx '"««:««fcions T " ^"' oeginnmg to find n- . * . ' ^ it must alwava k-> • • . 6 '*'nna it a pen] ^erm the Ano.!,^©^ »n"»ical to wK«* , ""»«n., it i. 4t . J ' .'^<'» England, the veil l''' "'"^^d our public sch^i ?'"« Moendanci • i. i. ? **""« of Pu„. l^oIonU^^Jf''"- which Miin,'"'«8»'>'on,enacl .'r«Wberf.ndS3iliS'?''"'li' ha, be^f "*'/ P""»e8 it, r"« the ooea"'^'!''^' ">ore than cor.!.r^f*'"J:- ^ha* W'evariou. P-T; ^""""aketit,,-^,- ""^ '" "•» embryonin ««re&, of privilege a^d Hi' I ! 408 U9OiriTSl»rH«0Kir Bi^portejT of ^ttihoriliy^ iUofrOcefQW rQotaarj»9pn*di*9«y«i7^^ jVIr. Wip^throp w»p,a4(7{M^imha^fiBil»U«di!th»t iriiteci^^ o| Am^irip^ ^ tr»P?4 i>J4^pMUgrMi < bauk iilo tfjtti Uii4uig>of' iba ^ Pilgrim F^til^ers, ,an4 M' wjmi » XKnaaiof (NtIiiirer«eifiaQiii*|it|'and' grpiMi w^aUb.i Tb^ ]i>^mond9 vubM^uently, *iiMii> rhimi ifti the ' ' eterna} (rity/' ^<^ key^ it a^pf ajpod^ da »peo^ attraAtioni 4o1r«vd Borne, whiph^ciiy he, jc^«f^ aJ|i:i94^i jasvfiamiliarly m U»taaXi/ve Boston; but later on he madoi >. OWtaiiL'pr}^po«al tafidkh Avhich mf>r.^ , j^han , a^^pw^tei^ fori jiia vMit. : It rima 4floliiiad, like that pr^vicyusly made , by M>'.'ii-.i:>i t,.i^: >^:,i>-,>.i i-i.-. I.. Uh ;J/ H»l .1/:!);- < .<•: OdAPTER XliTlI. 8H0WB HOW THB fi^t ISiB [ DID < ii OOOD DAT**! ^ORK. ^ ^ " ON their return to E;ng]and,'6aHjjr in lft7i$,Xa4y. ^ the Squire, little OWen/atld their ai^ndants pfdceeded after a brief stay in Londoii to Oairrig ' t>e4]jnond, whpe our hero accepted Hi*. T^j^tibiee^fi In^ntation to spepd a we^k at Wanstead Hail. The 8cho<)ltda$teir anid' hu |go(^^ delighted at finding Edith so tut^cti itnproy«4 in health, and they exerted themselves to the utipost to mal;;e ^^ugb^.'s spio^ro among them as satisfaetory to him as iieyi^ehttTwasto y^pxfi- selves. It was arranged ^that Miss AlLvn gboula , spen^. a, few months with hen* ^latifes After, yt^iicjii she <»o, Vas /^J59 tP Ireland, remaining ther^ tiiiUl tjl^e iiutum9,^.when t$9 family proposed to returta ^ Torweirtipn for the wiQtet*. ; ,. ,1 When, on the second e v^^liii^ of Eis Visitj Charles w4lU^»ii;e I JJJJJ called to greet out-. hero ati^ coAa|plimeht ficjit^, !J^iigh'i| in^uiryl ^fi5. with respect to the ^6lfalr6 of Wiljian Curui^ ^(|^^u }i(^u^ ^fii hold brbiight a otoud i6 the'faceof the ffbod-jai|tured jjouin^ ^tSt <* Upon mv ^ord," he sAid, " I wiA 1 could ^y tl^y arw fMut well. My Latin iis aWfulIyr^Sty^' sb that |!'ain ^HtM to venture upbto it, but what tt^t tbatv t^« ^"H^rinoe 0^ tpJjU „ S genia brorapte the poet to exclaim T~ . i 1 * \ • I JLiluul j^ , '* » Tantum relxgtfy pp^t^ti s^iiderfirimhmm,*, \ ,« , I hq, b Well, our poor friend Ourtin Jim 1oit v-i^; 1.. \\f "»•- ,1'. f ...fror !'><{/ WORK. '^ " ■ f 8 jprocecjdecl 1, wh|le our a V^^ .^^ I wife were health, aam the black tg the arch- >n with the »ntinued, *it it was won- r the water.' attempt to would not I not follow that within uid was re- peeted when inff sermons tjuaceover* d Desmond, lister!" ^bir^ "and ^^tf THIS ROCK. ■ervices. of X » * ••rvioes, tha r«l,^'^ ..*® ^''*t Par, 'o'-your friend's Z'nf^^Tu ^^" ««•»» •Iso to hoW ®'®»*"* " Certainly, c^rulnf^ •^rration f - "** ^ '^^W responsible f«nn of wot^t?' **^* ^ consider th-.\« ! ^>'fc«hir©. ««t these two iiAiVki' ^ ^'^ ■"* of the n«.«; , " ** »»y be »«. tut er„ t^4« T» ,•" ril th. «Cof ^''"*<' "d »*««''djSE.^.'*'»^ii>«.bo»t«^ . I ■MU if-'ifl ^n}'^ 41fl UEOK,Tim,Rp^,l^ he seemed somewM vw^nfM »i of his stay at Wf^nptfu^dtl of his stay at Wf^npt€aKJ,B|4^);l^ro ;,^J^ 1 ,,( • f>^»KMf |r*riA //(Id .iTol I*! I Inn Soon ftflwr Btugh;* rp^rA»V^vaiT« Pp^mf^^ t]f^ .^^''JfS}*^ -Hwhose awpeiripr ,qu4i4fl*tV9ftf )w , ^ ^'^vW'i i*??<*. °J^° ?' "*« worUJ ovpa JDhopton„l|fcie,j(^i»i^ws W^ w^ now fo4il,io fo- knowledge,— made up hi8.iii^,<;(9;^qr,,hw,ppweri^ of p^reu^^^^ upon pr«tior»K*tiq Conroy^f.p;^ Wfl^ aj^^^^iih^jr it^^cwfulin' hi^ $uit„4wxdi it ffi .to,>e„preflmittj94 tl^a^ m, je^Jing w^tlj her father iTiwi fs« pible, tQ /decwt^^tf ^tij ,t^t (le ^m bj, no ffte»n8 a bad nwfcoh, for t;^^^, ^ ge^^^Q^, haytoK^^j^a^rl Tint's s^te- mentofihii position, Aodpro^piBcto,,pta4fK^,^ii(|||ught»r^ l|and i I), that of b wr switpir ,ap4> 4 j«»o WW, Tet,ri|pi|i<>9 . T **? ?*^*'* i *? beh ind h i m, h is ear catigbjli i^ , Wtf W ( ,¥>»ftf ^»^* , ^«gK««^« 9^ i thaib rqadie when » ;?eaWupi l^tci^^lTiiWO^.'^ *Jvisy W!"^^^ *>^ the marWe slab, pif.Jws ^W^Pn^ ; t^^ T^^PT^^nd wlwce; for ft few seconds, brolfiBp ,<^^.|lw^^. %. ^f^tji^ls, spying: ^'Fi^r shame, iMir, P^rJr^gh,,-^rTinp„ Jtnjp«»?» t^^l^.Jil^wVT.oar foreign m*nae>:s^^W).49^bVpiqlJ;«4w ^Tpn*,99nj9H»;?g.Tiw J'renbl^rs. , If you do ifc,»gRip,XwiU,TWfftFW»lX4wrf9»n;r«!l»i Jft* WJ,, take anftthen but <»ly , 9Hfi mn^ , , , , , , , , , , , i „^ , . , , MftqricftPesmpnd »»>4 bip fiCiivjl^,4iB!Xftt^,W«4iHy^ ^r^ , accpui>t», connected ;«^it^,,tbft«»^tft,,»n4,f9,un^4,t^ i^ '^■79J^'. u lisatisf ftctory cpn4i<«iQQi , ,l^ ,9Q«M»^^M9R ^jl^^ %V^ . Wh WH? , Mr. 3urJce, th^y .Jev»p4i .th»t, ;iibfH» ,69h^,,:i^P9fe:r^j;^^ m i.^,(>^f >^^^^ ^cjnfj , untiJled, for sino^tb^ evijGtifli^fi»|io^e ^fl^ifsjced 1^ W^Vipy/too vacant holdings^,,, .,,,„,,„,,,,,, „,, . , ,,.,,/ ..^..j. :.,,., , 'fT^,. people,, 3|«,mriq^': 8ft^4,.:Hi^.J|qr|5C *>fe,n^ a^^ to attend peaceably to their own business. .,,'I^ra jsj^|[^op;i;i-, lighting t^at J -know,,^ jl)H^ th^,;fp^yij ,pji, anttj^R^djQ^i^ is' every vber« at wwk wdj^nnj^ng.^.^^l^Qjelp^lji^.c.fjij^^^ we weif^ bornand ^Wph.,IV<^' Jthpvjghfr ,w^ ^9,fs^|^ m.^ff^* , WeibftVft b(een,T--I jnga,?^ tf^e„i^xtf^ gW*?y, >%W WW»>|V5., bulwark and safeguard of Engl«^[ft,^^t*<>nty,i?h JLI)b)«^^,,jw4 > witb Mi 'Our. ,^5)rts 8^te- [iter's hand garden ^ to, eefstaa^ qn an^ BilieQce, mg: "For !)nr foreign Frenoi^rs. , D^^ »VJ9tO ^ "**<>* »«» HOOK, knd7-7""* "'^foanKtioi ^A]^^'^ ff»*«t iwirJoiDlea •Bl»rrMkomri^r"'*"*»l«.( met h.L , '*"* ■ "■•k«»fl^l^«J^«n*y but, thei^'J*;*'^ "^^^ iU UPON THIS ROOK. m AUjn f^om«d her friends at the old castle, -<-^his apestlt. e£ the nbw agrarian light quietly enough left the farm. Ai Maurice had said, both house and land had become a disgrace to the whole estate, so no one was disposed to wonder when a corps of masons and carpenters were set to work to thoro <;hljr renovate the cottage. When this task was completed, it soon became generally known that Tim Darragh was to be the Squire's new tenant, and as the honest fellow was a general fiftT'ourite nobody seemed to envj him his good fortune. The day before that appointed for the wedding found the Squire deep in business. His man of law, Mr. Kirwan, was in attendance and, except at lunoh, these gentlemon were confined to the library daring the long summer day. Blanche, Edith, and our hero had driven to Kiiockmore in the morning, aad they were absent when Father Oahill and young Dick Furlong drove up to the castle in the priest's jaunting-car. " You are a good whip, Dick, my lad," said Father Tom, as he Jumped from the car, " but you are not acquainted with Molly Bawn. Her mouth is very tender, very tender, and you saw how she rears when you rein her in too suddenly. Faith, Dick, if you ever live to be married, take my wv..'d for it, you will do well to manage your wife on the same principle as that demanded by Molly. Never rein them in too suddenly, avic, for if ye do ye will maybe live to repent it." " I shall never be married, I think. Father CahiH,** replied Dick, with something like a sigh, " although I think I was intended b^ Providence for a family man." " In Uial ease, Diok, ye will as surely be married as that a duckling will take *o the water : sure all the world knows that you mi^t cut out that spalpeen Cator if you would summon up courage to try . " ,;..:.., *' Indeed, then, Father Tom, but it's trying 'fc6^^o' that I am flJ vhe time ; but I am so shy in her presence that^ ye see, I wm always at a disadvantage/' ** Because you have not enough of tlie devil iu ye, Diek, my lad. I tell you that the girls like a man with a spice of the devil in hun. However, there is Dan waiting for us at the halt door ; arrah, Dan, ma bouchal^ God save ye kindly ! " When, his day's work over, Maurice Desmrvad sat at his own beard surrounded by iJiose who loved and honoured him, it was evident that he was gratified by the result of his (|q|!Otioin ^ bUiJtti^'f Mr. jPQi'wCiii, -v^'ho #m» to j^<> b»ok tq Ckf$t^s»h bowi Miss spin'i « "^ BJan( "B inquir "In ment, such « him ou "Wt nay vor b«fottii, "In order, « o3ac«^f« krm. Ai % dUgractt er when a horc ih\j sd, it soon to be th» a general ne. found the rwan, was noen were Blanche, » morning, >ang Dick iig-car. )r Tom, as nted with r, and jou f. Faith, for it, you pie as that enlj, avic, 11,** replied link I was i as that a CDOws that d sommon do that I » that^ je , Didk, my [>iee oC the ' us at the ndly!" at his own red him« it is iiwiition In .k '^'^^^ ''«tt Boot, radiant. "«'~^*tao looked extremelv . j "^eIl,Mis,AJIv »» . "'•^^ «*^'^-'»*t«red and Robert of fari. -_Z „ '''•''».-»h»t dvr^H ?^. " *«' who carried • k- l '*"''evotion u ».« .^ ^ •" woTinced Miss Bnrk. i, '""""8 looked gratefnii, fT '**''«'• Tom B '■ -^o" h-. been ver. b ""* •" '"^• '^- Hi,;trr?:7^^^^^^^ to^.,.- «.d pris w iW vfoir'Tftii B6ot.' I ' ^* So that I dhfltt odir bo Able/ t6 deV0t6 mywdlf, a faithful squire of dames, to your pleasure, my dear, and to th4t of Miss Allyn," continued tb0 oM gfetitleitiaii. *' ftut Ofim's m^rMAgHg Dii i^leaiM, Llliiltettd ^h ttiilier tt8tbti,he •*Weth 1 1. iZ:"^^ ^>iH wick •**'»«Jcirboodi ' fiw J. ''-li M VfOH tHtl soot. *' CHAPTER XLIV. tLLwnAmo soMx Bionrr chaptsbs or num hotobt. MRS. Kathleen Darragh, — born Conroj, aa the organi of finnkeyism would express it^ only m French, — was ■o busy that she might almost have been excnsed had she now and then in tl^course of the evening retired, like Jephthah's daughtei', to bXail her virginity. However much the ordinary bridegroom might on such an occasion be disposed to condemn ■0 great exertion, as being likely to fatigue and enervate, and at being therefore conducive to apathy later on at a most in- opportune moment) — Mr. Darragh manifested no such disposi- tion. On the contrary, honest Tim ably and unflaggingly seconded his wife and her auxiliaries, while Mr. Conroy, — who had often heard his own father describe the old feasts and merry-makings, where both landlord and tenant exerted them* sdves ''.o please, — ^was a host in his own proper person. There were two fiddlers whose reputation as "elbow-shakers'' ex- tended throughout the county, the one being stationed on a sort of rostrum in the large kitchen or general room of the cottage, the other being similarly honoured in the bam. When all the auntu, uncles, cousins, and cousins-gcrman of both the parties to the union were assembled, together with their friends, there was absolutely no room for standing left in the cottage. This contingeney had, however, been foreseen and provided for by the schoolmaster. The large out-building, irecently floored, painted, and plastered, was prepared for dancing, while the kitchen was set apart for refreshments, card-playing, and other amusements. In the " front-room,*' or parlour, where the wedding presents were displayed, seatu had been reserved for the " quality," — that is, for such of them who might during the evening desire a temporary retreat from the crowd. Besides ^e party from Carrig Desmond, — ^including Mrs. Condon and Dan the butler, — there were Father Tom and his curates, one of whom had recently taken the place of Father O'Roare, Dick Furlong, Mr. Tyacke, two police sergeants, and a number of shopkeepers and tradesmen from the vUIage. The daaeing had alnwdy begun when the Honourable Uliek Burko I alDid his datightior were announced end introdueed to the happy 'W im.' nSTOBT. be organi aob, — was d she now rephthah'i B ordinary > eondemn rvate, and k most in- th ditpovi- flaggingly ■oy, — wIk> Basta and ted them- 1. There kera" ez- 1 on a 8ort e cottage, When all both the rith their aft in the laeen and -building, [)ared for Behments, nt-roora," yed, seats r such of rj retreat ilingMn. n and his of Father Huita, and lage. The iek Bnrk« I the happy I UPON THIS ROCK -ponding Z ««„,,X'°°« ""d .11 the^^jl'Sf' «»««C to come... ""'"«"« "»o,«toZ.7^d"';.''^f.oWe^. Ifearw, UliVt",^. ''" '"eo'', worse '•«>»' ponder and I w.^'",™*^ SfMrice -On™ • »' note-pape™* 'i«°;;«'''Pe. «nd talc „7ffc,^,»"« took fC » ooffln and , skn'l ^,i "^ ^•"'l. but , J„i. J* eont«io«j '•^«J^-'''h»I»^r -"'' °'~'»»«ext:„'dS1^J«7tb„,rf , ** came bv fcj,„ «, ^"^ **»« whole '■-•« ».t S^i"?' »' ^'•"o ".X r hilt' ■"" "»■»"• 01 a 4^0i DPOy THIS, HOCK o(,poui;9P>, ,QRjy j^ ;;nci^. ,^q, nj^jgtoy . ;pM. Murpty , ,kn,9!«^. l^^W le^^jt,^,^;^, ^ ^qa^ a^4 t|)^ so ^g W , ^hf»re ,wf jt^ *|ie lawMir^aft^n ,^, J»^Pfl %t^he ^epi^cj not jupt^l^ ^<;(» , ^^^anj hajfppft^ tp^4,yp)i^ J^wks^^PIH aliw^yi grown lip^^r, vhw sjk^'i^^ to |»#9 ^n^^epjfj^.,, QuietP^^i^ ^ 8ui;t| |»^\:|0 t^fm for tiPM4i^3^,,f^,^lr^yi9,f»i ,ye^,Wft.W»^f! i^m,*M\*. *^,i^if»<*^ A^. once. , ,„.,,,:,,..,. .,,(, 1 ;,j, ,.„,;' . h" Wo?;?./T«! dp tl^^,flurkf9> l?t». me |S^y .tjvft I, the ^coun^^^ prot^aWy ri^okp^s o^J^rir^iRgit^dy B)ftp?lie imd h?r Iri^u^, an4 , porJ^^W P^ th^p ^im^^ lp^4iofe them ,tp jrei^est in« tp \eav^ jinp^e for a tu^e,,,. f^^t|ve,E^rU i>a' ^e , gratified, |ve pk^llnot be £T^ti6iei|;jke,*'it'«>Hatt be kept » secret, until we can find this bkulkmg disciple of Paddy Shine i;i>,)l^ittle Qff>bw„guftirdf TNn it wjJU -be pur turn. , ;^pw le^ w ^d The district-inspector wai4 Qot (a^ p^;beiQg in fapt in tiie ^^t^ rpqm witf> ol>^ pf >ij? ^prg^nts fdoing l?,ii utmpat toward gratifying tlipjiftspim^^e intention, pf Stir. $ tflao|hy parragb. M .^^ k» pm^J gmtfi of whom it is not libellous to say that tbey w:e\^ bp^ ^'l^ji^tj^ tbftve wwft othftSi vbpw e^erpiM had rppdQred.fpi,f^f\d t|»eBo cp;itwu»4 <«x Pii^tw ana r^t|ire fw» , Uie rppn)^ -aoiji^j^t^^ , jj* {^i^pjjpa. m?r PQuplp?, an4 somptimes, but veify ^ f pJi, wqdpr si»pl;i, cicfiunja^^c^ ;^d pf^ ,^be , ojther Im»h4, tbPW, Y^P^ei tbose prp?;p^i,t w^iose ^atj^ve. i:,^flA»^e|B8 y^qif^ liivy^,ftngwdprpd a rwWPU?; IfW ^Jt'^, Jxa«|cQ-ti9 tW-i^^dde^ly call^4 r ,frpnr» wp^ tb«niV»^).Xe8 \»>^dpubtp4;y ,it^i^ty ,; apA P^l^er^w^p .^ej^ di#po«f)4 taf>»jatfilv>^itb aJfYPurwg^wl?! % prpgrew of j>|ip ifefrai^t ooncoctioji wbiph the bride, was, with her own plunpf bai><)i. ack^^ my • secret, ae^, little pt ^n tiie )0;a{fcher ir 422 VPON THIS ROCK. H ? Icnowii, th« mantle of Pat Shine has fallen upon him. Tet, he ehall be looked after, I assure jou." Returning to the house, they were just in time to hear the conclusion of our hero's speech made in proposing the health of the bride and bridegroom. Father Cahill led off the cheer- ing, the toast was made general and drunk by all standing, and then the carriages m the " quality" and a few cars from Inniscarra drew up at the door. Xt was well understood that by far the larger portion of the guests would remain much longer than was good for them, — such is the custom, — but, at any rate, their clergy and the gentlefolks held up a good example for them to follow if they chose to do so. The first to leave were the cars bound for Inniscarra, among them Father Oahill's and that of Mr. Tyacke. In order that Mrs. Condon and Dan might be accommodated in the carriage, our hero requested the administrator to give him a seat on his car. They left the farm slightly in advance of the policemen, while Furlong, who was on horseback, lingered behind await- ing the carriages from Knockmore and Carrig Desmond. For about an Irish mile they would travel on the same road, and Miss Burke proposed that Miss Allyn should oooupy a seat in the carriage beside her until they reached the cross-roads, a proposal to which Edith, out o* consideration toward the Squire's horses, gladly assented. It was a beautiful moonlight night, harmonizing exactly with the temper and disposition of Mr. Richard Furlong, who knew well that he appeared to great advantage on the back of his favourite hunter with his riding cloak hanging cavalierly from his shoulders. ** If we put you down at the foot of the hill," said Father Tom to our hero, " you will be satisfied, I suppose. Here is Father Clancy, who will be after celebrating at first maf« in the morning, and for his sake we must be home before mid- night." ** Thank yon, ye«," said Hugh, " that will do ; I assure you I am quite able to wsvik up the hill to the house." ** I am almost resolved to go with you," said the adminis- trator, "for, to tell you the truth, mv boy, your cousin Maurice, I am convinced, has some trouble on his mind." '* Trouble?" inquired Hugh, in astonishment; "nonsense, Father Tom. His aflbirs are in perfect order, — you yourself heard him say there was not an unsettled claim against the ftitAte^— 4nd Ms l^e«»lth is |6od, ver^ ^ood for his ^ears^" 9 hear tb« the health ' the cheer- standing, cars from stood that lain much I, — but, at up a good ra, among order that B carriage, leat on hii policemen, ind await- 5nd. For road, and r a seat in M-roads, a »ward the moonlight lisposition peared to r with his ^''OJ' tBl9 Moolt, •nd rou"'.!?.'' I" though he w.-.K?;'*?' *»» Wm j«.t „^ 423 Burke and thf •" "' •"'««J and im^- "' toleeuUm &ce. « well „ t""P*^'- aighDL.m '"^* •"•med b; ^r- Burke wiJl n ♦ .'^'^•'^<^ is W^^y®"* »*«>, ^ *«» sure he wiJJ c^^j?*""^ «houId We 7^1* **?' "» «»• . " ^" right I wm*'* '* *** ««•" ^ ""** *«»«We, •t 'he .tation ,^.T«*° '•"• >»tt a trifl^^?"' ^ *'" thank ^^A' "t" t? .«U ^.f-gK^anrt'eh^ii; "^•«''' 'Hi IrtOk'iMi'Mlok. ■ il i 1 'I II WiL -^ JOUt W kdraettti rbflbctioo; thb ^if^eftj^t '4tAd, ^ KayU "t^'-i ^mow * Ut r th6u^t it fii^t 't#tt$ a i&ktt," aiid tt- \)ip^ tiitb Jiih»ti6e: A ft w Sil^itw afi^i^khili, thld dkir (rom tid^^^mery t^^ ti|^ th6 l|itie, otir h^h> 4^d ^h^ ckevUm g^ttiiid Ah'^ tbY VltnfB tkkii^ k^^ tb'tti«top. Aa tti^^'tSlUtteathdr tiroes dh><^Hti^'th« ^olr6 toV^l tfrontii i^lbh' ^rbiiched to the f odt df the o^tld liill, tliey c6i^Id>l4ifilv diitinguisU tfH6' li^d-te^rHttges snd l>l<^k FiiHbn^. Sebright ' Wiii tM%id6nti([(t iifaat 'the ^hbl6 of the Ihtidt&ttk ro4d from tilLrHk 'p^^dlb^ t6 the ftlti^tfoii^ii^b that to'OOolrea^ Iras . ^hile Edith Allyn wai^ eiTdeaVotiritig > li^tkrd MJ^ |ltfrke thai ih^'irok yetT thiil^h plkki^ #ith the ^iiiit«te of trish peo^^t \i(^ ilre ^hki klrea^V %n, ' ihb' ^oo. tTli^ft fc/R fhtft asleep tn'hii i^tUt Be^itig l^ii^ Eva, aw^Uted M thc^ OoAbh- niiii; d^0^!i$'ittt^ h6<;Ml oftii^ dOftbh, 'thi^4^aff6)^K]h'g''th0 Other i^m'i'lmyt'd\!»ntfi^fkidk, ^^. Fiirlbiig iri^^ b^ween ' ' HI 'h(ijjf^, iti^ ^deai» 'sSid «^^ fatigued.". ^ :«M!^B; n^ 86«i6;^ WtahiiW Blin6b«^ "not iii the lekat, I a^ti yoa; -Z uM ipftcAci to attend th« tenantii' dbiiiMtio l^tiViiI)3'at H0lmyb(^V'I Hi'fld'ihto) tK^h, 1 TQcb tbeU^ iiOw." " Ah,'ftij"dfe4r.'"' iiiid'BTkte*, »* 1 kuritftittte's feir bUir life a^tii i^n h^mMmMin; H^H'toMo Mmn. Tot^r brother's 'thtbat laHf b^D too ' Vitidiai^iy i^iAeA ' bui y<' '" '"'i;'^ ' ' ^ '^m} ■ f aMiy; Mih mmte; ' 'k ' ;!i6W;-:iiiy' bd^t^d,— mhtiit m^ eVer-lii'Uis ihafhly streVtgth, bHghtbr th4n'(#bi> ih fee ilb^ir^ bf hjs g6iiid^— idV bhild^ikiy AkrWHk littjtf O^eri, 'aHd^VpiiaMttf doifrMbWdiW iaith; TDbyo^i'tMilc 1 li«%«tf^ V^krtt'ih'tlMF '^brWI ' Kb, bbukin, t 'kni jplerf^tfy mtiV. '^ And lib^ \iftk ybd b^li'thatfi'btrtndrUyi li^e 14 ii^liitib 'Smtfifl WbM^.fV'!Pt>t'''^Mi6iC'ebir "'" -^' '■.•'^^•'^^^'^' If'^ri^lHg tWtJ'o!-' t?hf6e^ p|tj^*8 Of 4«Kmfit'We^ly^hi-fe E&ipfe^ii' to hear it. At any rate, we ar from. the JBurkes and frotn Tom Cahill. My del E qnncism eyery. weei: zor tna kWf kM tii m T& 'pA , ^ Aayba ) oAt'from h6' ckevttn top. Am i\ gvontid, Id>l4itily SbbrigUt ro4a from reajgh Iriu k of Irish : fc/nfofit be^ ooAbh- th^ Other [ iitiB hot ^'^^TJifSHOOfi n'eS^i-ih ^oh'tMhlc •^-^i^" :i"'-r"'' -'-"''"^^ i^.;*wu*. •tone",, „„ ,, „ «»»>»0K^,^ w» i»iU tab, «p«i^^^* d^purand foil prostrate ''"T* ""'■* i"-""-' »f l.<.rr,/.« with Trh« I?W)On of th« n™ V "' -^"f .rf> "^ *««C 426 OPOV THHI ItOCE* 'I -,■*;- I ihej cama to an OTerturned carriage, whose horses were stand- ing and breathing heavily beside the wreck. Mrs. Condon wm sitting in the middle of the road, holding her mistress's head in her lap, and at first the officers thought that Lady Blanche was dead " Ood help us 1 " groaned Tyaoke ; " this is too horrible. Lift them into the oar, men ; gently, gently, while I run on before you and know the worst. The awful nature of the calamity was soon enough revealed to him, and well I wot that the inspector, whatever his later experience may be, will never forget that night. How. shall I attempt to portray the anguish of our hero 7 how describe its aggravation when the police car came up with its augmentation of woe t But even there, on that desolate road, crimsoned with the life-blood of a true and noble heart, there moved two ministering angels in Edith Allyn and Eva Burke, Father Cahill and Mr. Burke, like Hugh Desmond himself, were so stunned by the horror that they were almost benumbed and torpid. The curates, — having ascertained that Maurice was dead, he had been shot through the lieart, and must have died without a groan, — hastily drew the administrator's mare from the car, and Father Clancy gal lopped away to summon the revellers at Darragh's cottage, while Edith and Eva devoted all their attention to Blanche. She was not dead, that iniioh was apparent, but it was evident enough that her life was hanging by a single thread. She was placed in the carriage of Mr. Burke, with her lovely head pillowed on Edith's bosonif the body of the Squire being reverently consigned to the officers' car. Just as the sorrowful procession was about to start Tim Darragh and his friends came on the scene, and it required all the authority of Mr. Tyacke and the priests to re- strain the wild outbursts of these people's sorrow and rage. Hugh Desmond and Father Cahill, together with Mr. Burke, groaning and wringing their hands, ascended the hill after the vehicles, Dan and the housekeeper having gone forward in charge of the body of their beloved master. Not until the procession was out of sight did any one notice th« absence of Furlong or bethink themselves to look for tlie murderer. Then it was that Conroy drew Tyacke's attention to the fact that Eva Burke had seen Furlong's wild leap. In a few minutes a search-party was organized, and alnioat as soon as they crossed the fence it Ixf^came apparent that 9omt UPON THIS ROCK. 427 heftTT body had fallen into the old quarry. Tim Darragh, Tjaoke, Conroj, and a few of the more active among the ■pectaton undertook to explore the pit, and ere long a loud ■hout announced that they had made a discovery. Knives, pruning-hooks and sickles were brought into use, and used so strenuously that it soon became possible for those standing on the wall and the brink of the quarry to look down into the pit At first all that could be clearly discerned was the body ji Furlong with his head bent forward over the neck of his horse. Conroy was the first to discover that a second man Ify crushed to death beneath the heavy animal. They found that Dick's left leg was broken, and that he was senseless, while the horse's head was literally smashed by the fall. Not until the body of the other man was drawn up to the light was it discovered that it was Matt Murphy, the dispossessed tenant. The murderer had, it seemed, fallen on his feet at the bottom of the pit, and ere he could recover from the shock tlie horse had fallen right upon his head, for Murphy's neck was broken and he was doubled up beneath the animal's body. Before sunrise a large and excited crowd had assemtjled, but the police, both horse and foot, were present in force to main- 'in order. The body of the murderer was conveyed to Innis- *ra, and Dick Furlong, with his leg in splints and bandages, .«s recovering /consciousness in his father's houce. Another chapter had been added to the bloody record of agrarian crime in Ireland, another reason afforded the party of Humanity and Justice in England for yielding to the demands of the dema- gogues whose leech-like appetite will never be satisfied until all that bears the impress of England's authority and English influence in the sister island has been swept away and obliterated. The sun was sinking in a sea of golden glory on the evening of the day upon which the body of Maurice Desmond was con- signed to the tomb. Deeper, however, than the gloom cast by the funeral was the shadow thrown by the wings of Azrael hovering above the old pile to which during so m^y centuries the dread messenger had borne the irreversible decrees of fate. The Lady Blanche Desmond was dying, — old Doctor Lysaght had, at the request of the great ftiedicos from London and 426 t4»61f ttts Rocki , I^ablin; 'bMV^h tWti^^i' to X^r l^bAta^ ft'hdt^ d« 6<]ti^ ur^a, xa»)or jxieaaows /took jxuedb Iuuku hot Wm^^vea £Bt() bdf i^'ih'm liitb ^fiati^ lHtl^'U>Viiitf mmiidBWit, Tfytob^t'kfik^iiitiifi'inyj^dbaki^j to speak! A&4 m' ^^&' '^f M^' op66^ 'kter ' MiU Bairkk beckone«lli^M. th^ Wo-^^b'Wl i^ th^' skii^citi^"td^h^, aD() together i!iey 8«66a\t^^d«'lhli^'b^. Thb qHbeiAf h^' though band^e4,-r^6i-'^4 hadbe^ thit- sisteh fie hU Veiygiiii^ti^ meto ass'tiVe j/ou of'Ma IdVfe, ^i^ksk ^i*> fbi'fe^vihe^'fbriis hardness. Do not think too harshly of him, BlancHi^^d^." " " No, indeed, Robert, it is not for me to do so, for how could I expect him to' see Hugh as I law him'? It is l^U for the best, more ijifiik (ft m6' liusbliidlth'a brbthei-\4l^'t>ae'h 6W liiiidM ^iferi^'aWA' V mt^k'ii^^ tK^ btiibw;m^ his ftifiiusr'tf bi^v.' ' '^^ Kiss iiie ohce bib^; Rdbhli»tfei'*i^, ^'fo^'l* f !t BdUbtuv •-' ' ) .' I ' tterti'6he I Trattik^ brbktfri, ■"•Wt^w, mv hnik" T"?P"i^ Edith' "rtt" j'"'l J..,/, ■• * 450 OPOK THIS BOOK. h i Ui ' GHAFTER XLIT. *'LIV m n BUBT TO MAKB THIS HAPPT OLOBBl'' THS Earl wf Goiaborough, looking haggard and travel- worn, reached Oarrig Desmond on the following after- noon. He was reoeived bj Robert; and was at onee conducted to the room where his dai;^ter laj dead. There it was that he encountered her husband, the man whom he had six years ago banished from hit presence for her sake. Hugh was standing with fold^^ arms eohtemplatingthe features, beauti- ful in deaths of his loved and lost one. He did not hear th«u) as they entered, and it was only the touch of the Earl md upon his shoulder that roused him from his meditation. "Death has been before me, Mr. Desmond," said the old nobleman, *' he has bridged the gulf of my pride and antici- pated the reconciliation which I had determixied to seek. Here, with all that is mortal of her whom we both loTed before us, I offer yon my hand." "Say no more, my lord, I entreat you," answered Desmond, "I have nothing to forgive. Believe me, that from the first I was able to understand your feelings. I do not doubt, my lord, that in your positon those feelings would have been mine." The bereaved men shook their hands in token of reeoncilia tion, and our hero and Major Meadows, seeing the Earl fal on bis knees beside the bed, quietly left the room. In tli evening the Earl made Father Oahill the bearer of his reques that Hugh would consent that Blanche should be buried a Holmwood. Somewhat to his surprise, Desmond yielded ready assent " I could almost have proposed this myself, Father Tom," i said ; *' I am glad that she is to lie among her own peopi glad above all that her dust will not mingle with that of thi ^T," m hate-blasted, remorseless country." I ^jannJic "Our troubles are such, my dear boy," said the administratol wisdom " that they more or less involve in their consequences tM and tl stranger within our gates. Tou, who are not a stranger, bl ^he waa th* iidieritor and representative of a name not undistinguislJ " The in our history, must necessarily inherit all that the past,! "And I a which your ancestors bore their part, prepared and transmit! *« yet im to us. England is, equally with trelend, an Inis-fail^ or islal "Befor IwooJdliJf, ( t ia> thi giH imj inoi (I alfli pent 8om< enou abou have mach Oiano fiction "I Boston ftr>in n 'ny Jov "Th. ^ GLoam," and travel- lowing after- iCe conducted ft it was that lad six years Hugh was tures, beaut i- ot hear theui i Earl' And Nation. ■aid the old I and antici- >aeek. Here, 1 before us^ I ed Desmond, »ni the first I ubt, my lord, en mine." of reeoncilia the Earl fal' )om. In t)K )f his request [m buried al nd yielded ■ ;herTom," own peopli 1 that of thi the murrfft--.-. J^ nature T TfcL ^*'t thjs harbari-^ r »»'• enoMBh t„ 1- °*'V« work Th^. *"»»» tint j.!? The more poiimM«* ^ fwal to you than "'<' ''k«to «. you.. '•«»r To«, ..th^ w ^, i^ ^^ m \ 1 ; i li..L',! •fi 0»^ upon TOM BOOK ,,?' ^I9,inll gft.tl»wi ailiQost directly,f *iinr*reil Hiigbf'^f I4tod > resoIVcMi upon doing ao, I assure jou." " .u,-.-n • •'-. ■■ l^ej, tfpiwi ^r. pwUuit ) lull) oi (iyinpaUly lor fchoc4 whose sif^^f^,8Q>fiMr,.«uJbv^«ifll»ed bU.o^i»i f TWpoqridloir oouM > nfti , 99aiap4 ? I^hat J)^ ,vias rather. gUd Ut^^ : otherwibei el his b|:iq^4$ifflPt fpr»rJMi he f^YweqiMntly told euvhero^ the ^^oident ' w4up)| l^ft^ujnid ,hi«i 'tibia, revealed taiiTaBtnk* thai Btohard ^BSii4QAg,W«P^l»Pi^u^di^reatia,bfr egFecnr a,t,r>..ii, ..» .t ...i ,/ "^y ./r «'■;'« f/fiT )Mf. •(.••' '^^^.' ?»■ fir h/»ft |K01P)ilij9.mg)i^ Wl, dr«p9d in sable, down . the. smeiyi ayeai^^ :1^1;ira])|)h, ^e lod^ff) gate, aj^d, into* the.yiUage ohuroh, ouf; hep:^4i,n4'6if^p)^U4) fpllow^d .thtiwife. Anijuother ta fthoientraooe oltfaiB^f^fq^iy y^ult JUx wh|it ifias oaoe the Mary ohap^ Wihe*hef or ^trtji)^ h^fl hfen lome, religiouM, -ceremonial in the heuae prior, tpJH!ughDe^«>pn4'^ arriT»l£ro9» Ireland this oh roniele sayeth jnpitl^^ig i^^rther thitn that<^ husband'i wishes in this regj^^ > wpf^ , clearly JcQpwn apid . ahoifUl have, been reepected. Therf ^^1^, prevent ai^QOjjijg the ippiiroertr Bditb AlLyn,. £va BiUfk^,]^.H. Wii^Uace and Ivar (laugbter^ }im. Qhampejrnowne, lf4j ^^g»r($t, lieutenant VVallaPCV Mr., BuHce, FathefiOAbill, D,rr,Panafocdt,4>nd uanyoti^ers^oiwatQaad UAtrecordedofthia hi^tofy^r . Q( oQurse aoiOQg ith<' i^p,otatore, the prinoipal interest o^tfred in the Qhief mQurofri, fpr all , present were mere ei les^ f An|iUa,r with tlve stqiry of the'Earl's dau^htwtr and -of the nuisic-jiiajitQr tq whom she bad ^ven herlove^ Am th»/pvoees- sion moved into the churoh, a youn<|f woman advanced fjtom thj9! Iroiit irank .pf the bystundeni and deposited a wseath of purp/ white ^dpwers on the ooffin. It wes AUae^KendaU^ and a^ lMMP;eyeBJ9Pt thpee oC.pur herp shalearned that this proof of the villagerfr' Ipve for the>dead wba very gratifying to m»4 ^tftffir. thP j^oieral, Edith AUyn withriittle Owen and Miule- leiMtBtM;t. .-...,'.} tiFoh, our entraoott ihroniele tin this Apected. rn» £y* rOatiiU^ dofthii iotereat Bier& er of th« tike , ,;,, „ '"^'' ^«W "Oct . •' home and ex";.?" ""'"-'"■•^«.< that ..i . *^^ "antUi wein — ""■''• best «!?* •'^'' J»us if I kiss word, while own room, alk, put in as he after- thing in the tark upon it len only in justified iai 1 bearing &| id, which Mrs. Toyn-j in a country ced." ttg from hiJ by upsettini ! Well, mj ►wn on M( andkerch HAeGARD'S GREAT STOW PAPER COVER, 50c. . CLOTH, $1 from the Agent on the train (from the Publisher. WILLIAM BRYCE, pi Front St West TORONia m m 1 1 It THE REPROACH OF ANNESLE\ BT MAXWlBIili OB ATT Dean Mmti IMO^ PAPEI Omi. 50 OEITS. lUO M BUn, 75 OENTS ' t ** The author ^ * The Bflene* of Dmb Maitland' is iMA to bo a ladr, a oripf tMm blrtti, and obo to whom all movement is praoticallj forbidden. Yet from I sofa she seems to have seen Tory elearly the beavties of English landscape, hn i draws her roral soenes with a most rare fidetity. In her pages the hedges alive with birds, the primroses grow under the trees, and the brooks mormi gantty as they pari amid the pebbles of the shallows. It is, however, with eharaotsrs that die is the stronger, and she possesses that ran insii^t into motives whioh marked G^rge Eliot." — Tht Journaliat. "The Reproach of Annesley" is the latest work of Maxwell Gray, aulhori **The Silence of Dean Maitland," a writer whose prodactions have been favourably reviewed by The Times, Bpectotor, Aoaoemy, Guardian, St. Jama Qacette, and the leading English Journals generally. " Maxwell Gray, in his new book * The Silence of Dean Maitland,' achieved i great success in modem literature, and me^e a place for himself in ths foremo ranks of authors. His recent book 'The Beproaoh of Annesley,' bids fair to riv his former one in the good opinion of the public. In it the author displays same natural, fresh and vigorous style, which aided materially in brinnng ' 1 Siloioe of Dean Maitland,' into prominence. Mr. William Bryee, Publiahe Toronto, has secured the Canadian Copyright on this Book, and will send it paid on receipt ci price, 60 cento, if it cannot be obtained at the local book- —Port Hope TimM. ** It will undoubtedly give the auth<» an assured plaof among the prose poets i masters of fiction. Ito literary excellence is hi^ and squal, and the desoriptij passages are remarkable for their vivid reality, ue fitness, strength, and flexibi]il| of the style, and the perfect glow of the colouring." — SeoUman. **4t is from first to last intensely interesting, with that indescribable int whitih can only be achieved by one who has mastered the difficult art of nanratio —Mamehetter Examiner. " *The Reproach of Annesley,' is a novd to be read once with thrilling ini and complete abeorption in the main evsnta of the drama, and a second time full enjoyment and appreciation of the varied exoellenoe of its literary workmsna and of the sfubordinato soenes that make it a weU-«o«Bdsd piolve of a seotioa i Engttdi MW* iTfrfrmsn ^ < BBTCC'S HOm: §BBIE8. H«. 19«. B33 I VUfi BOOK, O^ THJB JTfiAK thriUing uit ft BeoondtimA, ' worktn»n> ,'•1 • Motion! Make room for H in your Satchel whon you |0 on a Joumty. THE PEOPLE FTE SMILED WITH. Recol lections of a Merry Little Life, BY Marshall P. Wilder The Americah Humorist. With Portrait. Price, Paper Cover, 50 Gents* |Everybody knows MARSHALL f. WILPKR and everybody likea bim and dmires the plucky ngo^l^hs^maaeagainst physical odds. He gets an nusual amount of pleasure out of life and gives a great deal to other people, )o. He has a sunny disposition and he knows how to make people laugh, the snsequence is that he is m constant demand for public halls and private houses, Qd he has not only made a lot of money, but he has made hosts of friends. In lis country he counts among them the late General Grant, Ex- > resident Cleve- ind, the late H. W. Beecher, General Sherman, James G. Blaine, General Korace Porter, Ohauncey Si. Depew, and scores of others. In England he |ob-nobbed with the " swells '* from the Prince of Wales down the list. All of pse he serves up in his kindly way as * People I've Smiled With." The book ■ full of good stories and clever bits of pen portraiture. No one can read it and tot be amused. Any one who thinks that Mr. Wilder's stories lose their fun iu lot being told by bis own lips will find their mistake. . His pen is as funny as ^sface, and the book is impregnated with a fund of humor that is simply irre- istible. There will be no more readable book published this season. JOHN A. OOOKERILL, Editor of the New York World, says in his intro- laction to this volume, ".* . Blessed be he who with merry quip, beguiles dious hours or causes one flower of merriment to bloom in the desert of [ selfishness and sorrow. . , . His name is synonymous with mirth. . ; !. , % i r. ^i.k ,ai^r For Mile by yonr Bookseller, or on the Train, will be aent by malli ipaid to maj address on receipt of prloe. 1IiriIiI.IAM[ BRYGX:, Pabllsber, Toronto* h'n I". i h' I i . f " ;■ I c WHA T THE PRESS SA YS In Beferenoe to G. M. Fenn*s New Book, ''COMMODORE JUNK.** ** Since Mr. Haggard has educated the public up to the proper standard of romance and taught readers to sup on sensation, other writers must not l^ expected to sit idly 1^ contented with a reasonable amount of thriUing incident and marvellous adventure. The author of '* Com- modore Junk," published by Wm. Brycb, Toronto, is both a versatile and favorite writer, and his present book is likely to meet the taste of that wide circle of appreciative readers who like a good story of adventure. In *' Com- modore Junk " we have a tale of the last century, without any historical ground work or surroundings to speak of, with the central figure a young heroic girl, who dons male garb and, accustomed to a seafaring Hie, works her pas- sage to a West India penal colony to rescue her brother and his friend, who have been transported for assaulting an officer who had insulted her. • How Mary Dell accom- plishes this task, how she joins this brother and several companions in a piratical life at sea — preserving her incognita and her modesty — all are told in '* Commodore Junk." The character of Mary and her devotion to Mer brother give a better tone to the book, which is sensa- tional enough to please the most exacting. It would hardly be fair to the reader to tell what becomes of the maiden, who, after the death of her brother, assumes his place as captain of the pirate ship, and goes through lanheard of adventures by land or sea. No one who takes up " Commodore Junk " will lay it down till the very last page has been reached, so that there can be no douM that the author has produced a book which will at least be read.*'— CArontflf. BMTCK* 'Emwnim* [, i, ~ £^«»- fticeasfi».f. Amelie Rives Outdone ^ 8 J^oba^ -"HP-. Herself; '• " -?•« ."~!» Jwigktw. . «C: S???*?' '">? g~«y bant -i™. _. .. ■w] ' My dM,n,„??™«nm»on mouth 0MD.U,iT?^"" "W" »»»»»d^ WLLWM BRYCE, ■i H'f BBYCrS EYE SHABl ^ Wnk Automatic Spring, self-Bflliafiaaif, ve«tllate4, easlctt to t|ie kead, baudsomest, most durable, f;liei^»t»t. BRYCE'8 EYE SHADE' Thi« ia by far the moflt perfect Ev« Shade that has yet been invented. Thu ■hade is made of i^aterial handBomely finished in muslin, green on one side and brown on the other. The ed^e aext to the forehead is boaiyd with leather, and the outer edge with metal, making a complete automatio spring;, which fitH heads of all sizes. The flexible metal binding enables one to make the spring 1>in4[ as tightly or loosely as desired by simply drawing it through the thumb and finger two or three times. The material Is at once the lightest and strongeat, 80 that while the shade rests on the head as lightly as a strip of ribbon and firmly as a cap, it has all the elements of durability. It is placed on the head as easily as a stifF brimmed hat, by simply drawing it on over the head for ward to the desired position, and is removed as quickly as applied. Heat hurts eyes more than light. Common shades sometimes do as math harm (by holding the heat from the light or fire and the heat from the iace, against the eyes, where it cannot escape until the shade is taken off) as they do good in shielding from the direct light. Bryce's Eye Shades are fully venti- lated. The heat of the face and from the lamp or gas produces a slight but ■constant draft, just enough to keep the eyes jool and too little to do harm to j the most sensitive. The eyes are really kept cooler than without any shade, while the freedom from all pressure removes the other cause of injury from eye shades. This is the opinion of the most experienced oculists. There is a larg*; deD:iand for this Eye Shade, not only from every man who reads or writes, bat also from typc'Setters, engravers, jewellers, factory hands, and, indeed, every] class that has occasion to apply the eyes closely to work The shade sells aa I largely in some factories where no artificial light is used as in others to night 1 workmen, and in fact, it has proved itself invaluable wherever eyes are inj steady use for anything more than walking or looking about. It is equally welll adapted to ladies, and is used largely by all who use their eyes closely on sewing or fancy work as well as reading or writing. It does not require any special] aVran^ement of the hair, and looks neater than the ordinary shade. r'leiCE For Sale by ttae BOOK AND FANCY GOODS TBADFJ )B FBOV- 4J»f| . •vMh'xv WILLIAM BRYCE, PUBLISHER AND MANUFACTURER, " '" 31 Front St. West, TOBOKXO^ OASTAl^ ^)||»«?<);. V •'♦(f* .TCtS. radfJ Br YCE's Library' " MwoiM conmm books ^ „ ^fm^. By Pn.„„„, J Burnett •o«T«,;irRoi:^ ZT^'^y- ■■■■■■■■■■■■■ '" Slained Pages ■ thl si»~ . . "'' '^''"''"'^ M-rmy SO Ti..TwiXrBfjh'!T"i''-«"''^" •••■•■.' «> ^O-e "aid's MischW^^ByG^f^ •■■■■.■.' "" ^e;j;js;^„,ss-p'-^att„„:....::'<.v,-r-'''cio«; :^ era. Ji„ a tlX T^sh^^ ^''" ^arte .•.•:;;;;.:•;;•: •• ^ »*^ Face B„4 ^^'""1' M«V:.r •■• aa il„ii ., ' "y Richard Dowlin,! . V.- ; ■ a 30 S""/- By Frank Morryfiefa ;• •lU.'-V •• .- 30 fS. Baring Gould , ■^ -^ """='= H. Burnett .. ■ ^ <( ' . ■ • * ^ ^o «'.nnie;,o.,*,., ;y n I,::,,;-- ■■•■■•••'• ^.■:::::.:-bion; '" mm,lo». BjMr«.J<,h„CrS;; The [Or, ' Diana Mb ' tin ram iC Thi IrtMMtltr, or Lpw ind PrMc By Qwcgem Ohnet. :^ 4ff. A Mm CMM. B7L.B.WaUord 2.5 4%. Ihek BlMd.\ By Geo. M. Fenn 30 47. Tlw DrMHk ByEmileZoIa 80 48. A ttnuife Mtttait. By Dora Biu.8eU 30 49. Unitr-CiirrMili. By TheDuoheM. 30 50. Attonlshiiii NWory of Troy Town. By Author of Deadman's Bock .... 30 1 61. Galloping Da|S ■! tbo Deanery. By Ghas. James 251 53. ComrnoOore iunk. By OM. Fenn 30 56. Under FalM Pretenoot. By Miss Adeline Sergeant 50 56. The Queen's Token. By Mr«. Gashel Hoey 2'> 57. A MlssSag Hmband. By George B. Sims 25 58. The Earft Wife. By George B. Sims 25 59i The Reproaeh of Anneaiey. By Harwell Grey 50] 59c" " " " *• ..Cloth edition 751 69. TheTenlt of Shem. ByGraniAUen 61. Cleopatra. By H. Bider Haggard (Illustrated edition) oOS 61c. *• " *• ** .« . « Cloth, gilt top. 1 65. Ftaunonka. By R B. Franafllon Sfj 68. Ike Nnnyoomeqrieka. By 8. Baring Goold Ml 64. A Bake ki Bokooiia. By Frank Danby ^ 3oI 66. Upon tkb Rock. By M.O.O'BynM 66. RefauMi Oliver. By Jostin HoOarthy. M.P U| 67. Favonr and F or k woi By anthor of Jaok Urqahart'a Daughter 68 69. 76. CANADIAN AUTHOR 8Eiil£8 99. An AlgonquiB Maiden. By G. M. Adam and A. E. Wetherald 891. Ckarito Ogiikio. By Leslie Vaughan Bryce'8 Detective Series. Canadian Copyright. ... lUamlnatBd Co-vsra. 87. Tko Mystery of St Jametr Park. By J. B. Burton 49. Tko Caie of Dr. Piemeii By Bene de Font-Jest 41. Bewiiekin!;^ In. By Alexis Bouvier 49. A WHy Widow. By Alexis Bouvier 68. A Dangerous CalipiMr. By David Christie Murray M. Tko Crkno of IfcoSoldOR Mtf, By O. Book 9M. Tko Man frwi tko IfoaL By a WaU Street Man. BRYCrS HOME SERIEb 1. TtiNlglibliiaBtfRooM. By T. 8. Arthur . U INtwtobt Hapw Though M«rle4 » lo. •« t. M « Cloihedifcion «0 8. Mr.BaiMttfNMvYorfc. By Ardubiad O. Onntor » 4. Mr. PoUmt ttf TtXM. By Arohibdid 0. Oanter 86> 5. RaddirQnmee. By Fruk B. BtockMn ,.., SS 6. QMAvy't Victory. By Mrs. Georgio Sheldon 35 7. Olivt VareOi. By Mrs. F. E. U. NoUey S5 •. » 9. NapoliOii Smith. By » Well-lmown New-Torker S5 110. Rohorl ElMMTi. By Mrs. Humphrey Ward 80 lOo. " " M " " Cloth 50 U. For His Brollior's Ulce. By the Author of The Original Mr. Jaoobe. . 25 |tt. Qooffroy Trtthicib By 6. M. Fenn 80 .. S5 tLJohn Bvlow't Wari 95 Tho Mystery of a Hanuffl Caik. ByF.W.Home S5 Maria Monii 80 Clare's Fanfais]^ My Mary Cruf^er 95 A QaUanl FigiiL By Marion Harland 40 •• «• •« Cloth 80 Paul Forroll— A Mystery 95 Michael SIrogoff. By Jules Verne 95 |10. The Gunmaker of Moscow. ByS. Cobb, Jr 95 Miss Bretlierton. By Mrs. Hamphrey Ward 95 Star Crossed. By a Celebrated Actress 80 Tho Silent WHnoss. By Mrs. J. H. Walworth 96 The Admirable Lady Biddy Fans. By Frank Barrett 95 No. 19 Stelo SIreoL By David Oraham Adee 96 John Ward, Prsachor. By Margaret Deland 96^ World of Cant Companion to Robert Elsmere 80 BullaloBill. By Ned Buntline 98 Joaallian and His ContlnonL By Max O'ReU 80 •• " " " " Cloth 75 MMoroy. By Onida 96 " Lo Ooeteor Ramoan," or a Brokoa LHSk By Oeorgea Ohnet 80 Tho Story of An African Farm. By Balphlron... 96 " Lady Car," ThoSofMl Ola LBS. By Mrs. Oliphant, 95 «Slraafor««a FleBoa." ByK«uiethLeo 95 m LathHKnriw Courtship By Sidney Liuka *'95 By E. Swedenborg JK i ■ Bryecl*s |1o«ac Uerlwm—Continued. put w 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 183. 134. 136. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. U7. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 104. 165. 166. 1§7. 107c. 168. BurketPt Lock. By M. O. McCleUand The Silence of Dean Mattland. By Maxwell Grey The Painter of Parma. By S. Cobb, Jr Grandison Mather. By Sidney Luska Sappho. Illustrated Edition. ByA. Daudet The Two Chiefs of Dunboy. By James A. Froude Karmel, The Scoirt. By S. Cobb, author of "Gonmaker of Moscow" The Man Outside. By G. M. Boutelle i*J'. rtttCt 80 • 25 80 SO 80 60 30 30 Doily. A Lore Story. By F. H. Burnett 25 We Two. ByEdnaLyall 25 Looidng Baclcward. By Edward Bellamy 85 StormlighL By F. E. Muddocls 25 Helen's Babies. By Habberton 25 Fair Barbarian. By F. H. Burnett 25 Lindsay's Lucic «• 25 Booties' Baby. ByJ.S. Winter 25 1 Dunraven Ranch. By Captain C. King 25 ; Cousin Pons. By Honore Balzac dOJ Guenn. By Blanche Willis Howard 35 1 infelice. By A. J. Evans Wilson 30 i Beulah. " " 30j Chatauqua Girls at Home. By Pansy 80 Links in Rebecca's Life. " 80 Julia Ried. '* 80 Ester Ried Yet Speaking. " 80 EsterRied. " 3o| Three People. " 30J Four Girls at Chatauqua. " ;... 3o| Rulh Erskine's Crosses. " \... 3(1 An Endless Chain. *' «... Naomi. By Mrs. Webb Daug ter of Fire. By Mrs. A. E. Barr 35| Bow of Grange Ribbon. '* Struck D wn. By llawley Smart .-. . 2 Tiiat Lass o' Lowrles. By F. H. Burnett 31 Paul Joi es. By Alexander Dumas 1 For England's Sake. By Robert Cromie 2i Kathleen. By F. II. Burnett ♦.i.'.ii.ivv 2 Orion, The Gold Beater. By S. Cobb . . ; .......; J. .<;»:. v.. . . » Ben Hur. By Lew Wallace. .af^t .j^c*. . . . 2i •• " Cloth .';iKU ;«ivv.'i .^.;vi .. ii Carllle's Manual of Freemasonry. Cloth Ohver . LVJ. . . v . M. i»fr^. »?, :.«l 189. The Text Book of Freemasonry.. Olotb Oo?v. 1 !$■ 170. PiHser't Amerlein ArchHeeture ; or, Every Mu bk omi BiiiMor. Oon- taining 90 pagw of modern plane, liM 11x14 Imhei. Paper eover. k 00^ 11700 ** •* •♦ Ololh. 9 00 171. The DtaMond Button. By Bandaj Nortti 80 172. The SlMdow Of John Wallace. By L. Olarkeon 80 173. From iNfhrent StaMdpointi, ByPaney 80 174. Mn. SohMiion Smith Lookbig on. ByPanay 80 176. ChrfiOe^ Christmas. ByPaniy... 80 176. The Last of The Van Slacks. By Edward B.yan Zile 80 177. The Fair Bod By Lew Wmllaoe 80 178. St Elmo. By Augnata J. Eyana WUaoa 80 179. A Philosopher In Love and hi Uniform. By anlhor of Napoleon Bmlfh 96 160. Donovan. By Edna Lyall.. 96 181. The Pleasures of LHe. By Sir John Lnbbook 9fr Il82. Marahuna. By Harriott WaUon 80 1188. Won by WaHing. By Edna LyaU. U Il84. InttieSolden Days. ** 95 llBS. VaskH. By A. J. Evans WUBon 30 |l86. The People I've Smiled With. By Marshall P. WUder 60 p. A Hardy Norseman. ByEdnaLyall 25. |l8B ............ ..a... *....*...•..•........•••••.•.•■*•■••.••. ....•• |1M i n v3> ................................................................ 194 15 'l« •••••■••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••e*««a«eeeee«eeee*a«eee««ea*e«» *V« •• •• ■• •• •• •• ••••••ea eeevae^eeee*** •••ee«eeese**eaeeeeeee«eftAee** W3m ••••••••••ee**a«e««a«*e««*«e«««*e*eeaae«*a«eee«**eeeeee*ee»«e**» II % 1 1 t t. few • TOUONTO HAP^ iaoolon 10 SI I ** dolh oov«r Mi ** miallpMdul lOj TQMMTO ftUlOE, tunay otw. with Ibp, Fhotognpha and lUiisfcmtioiia... M| TIm Honadbold Doetor, IHmmm, Ihair Bynq^toms mad Tntttmanl, with ninstntioiuk ByOeorgaBlMk Clolh binding The Enqnirar's OiMlt^ a Beady Bafartno* Book oa Heallb, Ednoation and Home Management, lUaskraled Ololh binding Ohaee'eBeoipee , Sihedition Bryee'i Pookel Beady Beckoner, cloth 1^ Baaiide Oook Book , Oheirtecfield'a Art ol Letter Writing 14 Jnlian'e Interaet Tftblea Day'B Beady Be okon er, eomplete <}heetetfleld'a Letter Writer and Etiquette, complete Day's Lnmber and Log Book Gheeterfldd's Bolee of Etiquette, complete New Seleotiona for Autograph Alboma Soribner'c Lumber and Log Book The Lover's Guide New Home Made Oook Book Hand Book of Oroqnet Bnglish Dictionary, complete, wonder of the age in cheap books Pole on Whist, complete Toronto Illustrated Onide • Muskoka ninstrated, with guide, 86 Tiews and 3 maps Canada Illustrated from Atlantic to Pacific, with 61 views, map and sketoh by Q. M. Adaii. Finest book of the kind ever produced in Canada. .|1 •• *• Presentation edition, very fins S Fine Leather edition •••. f ' PABLOB GAMES. OonvenetlOB Oe rfl i....».M« »...■«»«■■■...«.. Uc« Qmds of Biuip ~ — Vo. Osme ef Nations ^....~....~..........~... BSo. OasM of AQtben «.,..^ 8Sc. Oman* of I«ioaMMhy _...>.....»....~.~ SSe. Qam* of Baaa BUoTi TmTols BSo. Game of Old Maid and Old Baehe- { lor ~ - Jaek Straw, in a noa* wooden box, •▼erything complale The liOMt Heir .....i.^. ..«...>i—' iBryce's Notable Novel Seizes PZtSCOS, - IS Oeaats. IfTo. Masterman Beady ** 414 — Privatecraman • ** 415— The Naval Officer «• 416—^ 417— 418— Stories of Waterloo. By Maxwell 419— Scottish Chiefs. By Porter 420->-tInole Tom's Cabin. By Stowe 421— Windsor Castle By Ainsworth 422— Rory O'More By Lotbt 423— 424— Tom Cringle's Log ByM.Soott 425— Disowned By Lyttoa 426— Paul Clifford 427— Alice 428 — Ernest Maltravers ** 429— Pelham •• 430— Devereux ** 431 — Eugene Aram 432 — Last Daysof Pompei* 433— Benzi 434 — Night and Morning 435 — Last of the Barons i( u M 4B(^. 487—.. 438—., !••• . . . •• ^Qliflr "*^^*"^ DEPAIETMEWT. Tne Horae Guards, London, Ghwoging Guard « . size 20 x 23 . . | 50 looping the Colors •« 20 x 23. . 50 Her Majesty Queen Victoria in her Coronation Bobes, steel plate Migraving size 23 x 34. . 1 CA\ Her Majesty Queen Victoria Jubilee Picture • • 30 x 40 . . 50 1 Itko Forester's Daughter «• 30 x 40. . 1 OD | Hie Tower o£ London from the River Thames " 30 x 40. . 1, 00 1 Bengal Lancers " 20x23.. 50 Tobogganing, The Start, Joy 25 1 " The Finish, Grief 351 LITHO-PHOTO. OF NIAGARA FALLS size 18 x 24. . 25| Niagara Falls Views, mounted on fine bevelled gilt edge cards, in set of 6, in heavy manilla envelopes per set. . 7;>| Will supply the above, unmounted, 5c. each view, or 25c. per set. Or in handsome booklet form (6 views), with fine cover printed in gold. . 35 1 Omtario New Parliament Buildings 251 Cabinet of Lord Stanley, Governor- General of Canada 2.> | 18 Fine Views of Leading Points of Interest in Toronto, cabinet size, ( unmounted 1 50| IMLailf^d to any Address on Receipt of Price. WILLIAM BRYCE, Publisher, Toronto, Canada. *±'±=LiJ I rRICK. re 20x23.. f 50 20x23.. 50 steel plate se 23x34.. 1 OOi 30x40.. 501 '30x40.. 1 GdI 30x40.. % 00 1 20x23.. 50 25 26| se 18x24.. 251 in set of 6, ..per set.. Tai jet. 1 in gold.. 3o| 251 2o| ,binet size, 1 50| or Price. E. Canada.!