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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mAthode. rrata to pelure, n it □ 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^^^ f 'l^ :i5y THE HOLY STONE, r " ■ ' t»- Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and seventy-eight, by Miis. Ellen Ross, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. >■ le year one !N Ross, in A. .... ,.-K'«*^ "'■>>.. ■ ' !Si '^^ |1 ( :i h i Ar THE DOOR OF THE SYNAGOGUE ..^N. ! ;Vfti 11^ THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY SfONE EDITED BY Meb. ALEXANDER ROSS, llutbor of VIOLET KEITH, "THE WRECK OF THE WHITE BEAR, "the GRAND GORDONS/' ETC. " Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth p:\rt of Israel ?" " Lo ! the people shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations," A'umbers. MONTREAL : PUBLISHED BY A. A. STEVENSON, No. 245 St. James Street. // I ) * To whom a thousand memories call, Not being less but more than all. The gentleness he seemed to be." ' Best seemed the thing he was, and joined Each office of the social hour, To noble manners, as the flower And native growth of noble mind. •' ' Waiting to strive a happy strife, To war with falsehood to the knife. And not to lose the good of life.'' ' And thus he bore without rebuke The grand old name of gentleman." -Tennyson. WILLIAM ROBB, Esquire, CITY AUDITOR OF MONTREAL, My Steadfast friend alike in sunshine aud shade, I dedicate this book as a slight token of esteem and respect. Ellen Ross Montreal, January, 1878. i:tTiDE"x:. — « • » • ♦ — \ CHAPTER I. PAGE, The Legend OF WESTMiNSTF.n Aiibey i CHAPTER II. Ruby 12 CHAPTER III. St. Wolfgang's Well 21 CHAPTER IV. Tile Fisherman 30 CHAPTER V. The Fishermen 34 CHAPTER VI. Herbert Sydney , 47 CHAPTER VII. Nathan the Seeker 62 CHAPTER VIII. Shadows 81 CHAPTER IX. The Spring Tide Pictures 09 CHAPTER X. Sweet Scented Violets 112 CHAPTER XI. For a Name and a Ring . . , 118 CHAPTER XII. The Blind Countess 123 CHAPTER XIII. The Hermit's Cave 139 CHAPTER XIV. The Telegram 169 INDEX. CHAPTER XV. 'Thakiel Kiel's Seap^ch among the Rocks 164 CHAPTER XVI. BA.noN Seymoiie in* the pAiMr.if.s Stl-dio I75 CHAPTER XVn. The Fisherman's Cottage 132 CHAPTER XVni. The Hebrew Baron . iqo CHAPTER XIX. Mistress Monica 205 CHAPTER XX. The Mad Lord's Medicine 212 CHAPTER XXI. ' The People ' 203 CHAPTER XXII. The Unseen Hebrew Power 240 CHAPTER XXIII. The Artist's Home 244 CHAPTER XXIV. Village Life in Jersey 249 CHAPTER XXV. New York .... 2C5 CHAPTER XXVI. Lady Sydenhault's Letters 23 4 CHAPTER XXVII. The Tall Sailor of Brest 291 CHAPTER XXVIII. Dick IIaldeiit's Sinr 300 CHAPTER XXIX. Consternation , ;30.i CHAPTER XXX. Traces of tue Ston?. 307 •(• LjIlJ INDEX. CHAPTER XXXI. The Sfrixo Tide Pictures '. 819 CHAPTER XXXII. Mistress Monica's Letters 824 CHAPTER XXXIII. Alas I for the Conqueror King ! 886 CHAPTER XXXIV. The Wolves 845 CHAPTER XXXV. Dick Halbert's Tower 363 CHAPTER XXXVI. By the Beacon Light 390 CHAPTER XXXVII. Edward Penrytu at Bay , 899 CHAPTER XXXVIII. Tom HoLLiNG 410 CHAPTER XXXIX. The Traveller of the Black Fokkst 416 CHAPTER XL. In Silks and Jewels Fine 420 CHAPTER XLI. "While the Waves comes in 423 CHAPTER XLI I. The Findino of the Holy Stone 433 CHAPTER XLI 1 1. The Rabbi Abraham. The Holy Stone 439 CHAPTER XLIV. The Tribes of God go Thither 448 CHAPTER XLV. From Henceforth and for Aye ,,,, 458 % llic authoress acknowledges with thanks, the help given her in writing ll)is work by the Rev. A. De Sola, LL.D., High Priest of the Jewish Synagogue, Montreal ; and Jacou G. Ascher, Esq., the author of ' Jacob's Pillar.' il.. Il > '■'!^' [I ' u CD ID c THE LEGEND OF WESTMINSTER ABBEY. » ♦ » CENTURIES ago, in the time of Sebert, king of the East Saxons. Midnight on a lonely hurst, one side bordered by a deep fore^st glade, the other by the River Thames. A traveller dressed in the garb of a monk, his feet, pro- tected from the pebbles and thorns which beset his path, only by sandals, his tonsured head, by the hood of his monastic habit. He had been walking quickly, since he landed from the vessel which brought him from distant Rome, not because the way was long from the vessel's side to the walls of the Abbey he sought, but because he knew, that his errand accomplished, he must return on the morrow with a haste that would leave him no time to indulge in the reminiscences of fifty by-gone years. This lonely hurst, deserted as it now was, had been the place of his birth, and as the old man, ever and anon, closes his eyes for a moment, he almost feels his mother's soft caress, looks into his father's face, sees him light the sabbath lamp, and feels the touch of his father's hand laid on his head in solemn blessing. The harvest moon, ( , THE LEGEND OF nearly at its full, was rising majestically over the still land- scape. Surrounding objects threw their long shadows on the tranquil waters of the river, while the silvery light of the Queen of heaven played on the crisped surface oi each tiny billow as it sobbed thro* the grasses at the traveller's feet. How fresh and sweet everything looked and felt. The monk of seventy years is a boy again, walking among the cornfields and under the shade of the wide spreading branches of the forest oak, — one by his side, who had walked with him over the same brown hurst, and had pressed with her light foot the cowslip and the primrose half a century ago. Where is she now ? — Sleeping soundly under the grass grown turf ! — And the dwellings of his people. Where are they ? razed to the groiind, — the people gone on their weary way, to seek rest among those of a strange tongue, to whom God's chosen are an abomina- tion. " Alas ! alas ! " exclaimed the monk, " it is, as it has been, and must be, for thousands of years to come, until the children of the promise * Tribe of the weary foot and aching breast' have grace given them to believe in Him who came from Edom — travailing in the greatness of his strength — the Nazarene — the Crucified — until then, their harps must still hang on the willows, and they refuse to sing the song of Zion, in a strange land — my people, my own — my beloved." The stranger covered his face with his amice, lifted up his voice and wept. The monk has gained the gate of the little monastery, WESTMINSTER ABBEY. the lights are still burning in the deep-set windows. He looks up — they are waiting his arrival. His summons brings two of the lay brethren to the portal. " Who knocks so late ? " " Father Paul of Rome." "Welcome, Holy Father." The gate is thrown open, the monk is taken into their hall, his sandals removed, his feet washed and dried with care, and then, meat and bread, venison and fat capon, with a flagon of mead set before him. •* I have eaten nothing more savoury than herbs and bread, taken no other drink than water for half a cen- tury," says Father Paul, as he motions the Frairs to remove the feast they have spread before him. A supper of bread, herbs and watc is brought, of which the holy man partakes sparingly, and then asks to be conducted to the Abbot. The Superior greets him graciously, and the greeting over. " You are aware, holy Brother," says the Abbot, " for what purpose you have been sent from distant Rome by our father the Pope ? " " I am not ; I haye come to do work which a younger man could not do, but what that work is, I must learn from you." The Abbot points to where, through the deeply em- bayed window can be seen by the bright moonlight, a newly erected church, around which still lie blocks of unhewn stone, that shew how recently the structure has been finished. r ! \\ THE LEGEND OV i',11 ! / ; WESTMINSTER ABBEY. II [ined to fall into the hands of the Gentiles, but the )rophecy was clear. " It will come (to the Gentiles) with a woman, it must TO back (to the Hebrew) by a woman." The Abbot asks himself the question, " How can this )c, — Father Paul the priest of Rome was no woman ? " Abbot Wolfgang knows not that Father Paul, the )riest of Rome, was a Hebrew of the Hebrews — a Rabbi )f the Tribe of Judah — who had counted all earthly gain IS naught, that he might serve the despised Nazarene — take up His cross and follow in His train. The vesper prayers are ended, — each priest has gone |to his cell. The eyes of all within the monastery are Isealcd in slumber, all save those of Abbot Wolfgang, and he on his palfrey has taken the way to King Sebert's castle, there to deliver the Holy Stone to Athelgoda, [King Sebert's queen. %■ r I . iH 4 — «->^/^/^^^2^/^^v-v— * I CHAPTER II. RUBV. "It hath come with a woman, It must go by a woman. " SUCH were the words of Abbot Wolfgang more than a thousand years ago as he delivered the Holy Stone to Athelgoda. And the Holy Stone descended from King Sebert's Queen to her son, and to her son's sons, from generation to generation. And after the Norman conquest, when the old Saxon Scberts had changed their names to the more euphonious one of Seymore, the Holy Stone was theirs still, bequeathed by father to son, from century to century, and each Baron, whether Saxon Sebert, or Norman Seymore, down to the middle of the nineteenth century, as the time drew near for him to be a father, waited, with anxious heart and bated breath, to learn if a son or a daughter had been born to him. For over a thousand years, the ladies of Seymore Castle had borne sons. Godfrey Karl Seymore was the last of his race. The clock had tolled the midnight hour, yet with long strides his heavy restless foot, paced from east to west of his castle hall, making the old walls re-eCko with his foot-falls. Looking out from the eastern windows on the dark, stormy billows of the ocean, climbing with white crests the rocky height on which his castle stood, 13 THE HOLY STONE. 13 from the west the straggling moonbeams shewing him [the dark pine forest away on the hills. An old white haired man who has served the Sey- mores for fifty years, enters the hall. " What news, Godfrey ? have you brought me word my son is born ?" " God give you grace to be patient, Baron Seymore, your I lady dwells in everlasting night, your child is a daughter." Lord Seymore was a disappointed man, he had loved [his wife with the passion of a boy, and now he mourned her with the unreason of a boy. He, like his forefathers, had longed for a son, he had neither the wealth nor the I land of the old Scy mores to bequeath to a son, but he I had still his title of Baron, Castle Seymore and the Holy Stone. Of what avail was his title to a girl, she could not inherit it ? Castle Seymore and its land was a mere strip from the sea to the hills, hemmed in on either side by the possessions of Lord Sydenhault that in the old Itimc had belonged to the Seymore's. And the Holy Stone, — did not his child's sex point to the time, when it must go back to the Hebrew from whom it came ? It seemed as if the waves of fate, were about to bury the old Seymore name in oblivion, and he had no power, scarcely |a wish to combat them. Lady Seymore had been laid in her grave for fourteen years, yet Baron Seymore mourned for her as he had [mourned, the first hour he knew she had left him. His :liild had remained so long unbaptized, that the servants; . :! ■ j : ! [ 1 i 1 ;; i i 1 1; t. i' 1? H THE HOLY STONE. and visitors in lieu of another name called her Ruby, from a necklace taken off her dead mother's neck, and put upon the child's. And when at length she was baptized, because her father was shamed into it by the clergyman (whose ministrations he rather professed to attend than attended,) and by the persuasion of the Ladies, who with their Lords, still came to spend a few autumn days, in shooting or fishing at the old castle, her name of Ruby had become a part of herself, and hcr| baptismal name of ICdith was a superfluity. Ruby was the darling of the old castle, wanderingl among its picture-hung rooms, talking in her childish way to the old Barons and their Ladies, whose ancestral faces hung around, every one of whom, from KingI Sebert and his Queen, down to her beautiful mother, shc| knew by name, and, who she fancied, were living, breath- ing beings, almost as near to her as was her silent fathcr.l Her best loved, and most frequented play-ground was the quaint old garden, the old gardener, her especial play-mate, and to him she was the glory and the darling of Seymorc castle. Taught by old Jasper, the childj would try to win her father from his solitary library, his lonely walks, and, looking up in his face with her plead- ing violet eyes, would entreat beseechingly to be takcnj with him. " Take Ruby with you, Papa ; dear Papa, don't leave] your little girl alone," The heart-sick father would look down on the face ofl childish loveliness, framed in its wealth of golden hairj upturned to his own, and say in his heart. THE HOLY STONE. J5 " You are too like my lost love, I cannot bear to have you beside me," and taking her small hand in his would lead her to the garden, leaving her with old Jasper, and belake himself to the deep pine woods, there to indulge his morbid melancholy unmolested. Ruby had attained her fourteenth year. If her father had been indifferent to all else, he had taken every care that his daughter should be educated in a manner be- fitting her rank. An accomplished governess had been provided, who in a certain measure supplanted Mistress Monica, her nurse, in the care of Ruby ; professors of music came several times a week from the next town ; the daughters of the neighbouring gentry were invited at stated times to visit her. Everything was done to fit her for the place she must fill as the Lady of Castle Stymore, and as she walked, with stately step and silent maiden smile, beside the flower beds, or under the shade of the beech and oak trees on the mossy lawn, Jasper began to believe that, as in the old time, an angel had come down to bless this green earth. In Ruby's fourteenth year, a sudden change came over the inhabitants of the old castle, Lord Seymore was, w ithout any desire on his part, appointed to be Deputy keeper of the records, in the Tower of London. He cared not for the honour, but it was one he could not well refuse. Previous to his departure from Seymore Castle, Lord Seymore brought Ruby into a room he called his labora- tory, and taking from his own neck an antique gold chain, the links of which seemed made more with a view to strength than fine workmanship, placed it in Ruby's ■I I b\ mm m ri i6 THE HOLY STONE. m' hand that she might examine the jewel pendant from its centre. The jewel consisted of a sapphire the size and thickness of a chestnut, bound round by a thick band of gold, on which were engraved strange characters, which no man, save the Jewish High Priest could read. The stone sparkled with such brilliancy that Ruby's eyes were dazzled with the sight, she turned the other side, and there, the stone became like the beryl, the onyx, and the opal. * " This jewel," said her father, " is one which has been in our family for generations, it has descended from father to son, each Baron Seymore has worn it. I have no son, I cannot leave you without putting this on your neck, it must be ri vetted on, it must never be taken off while you live, neither must you shew it to any one ; when you get older, I will tell you why. — You will obey me, my child ?" '* My dear father, I will." Lord Seymore, by the aid of the forge in his laboratory, rivetted the chain round Ruby's neck, putting a gold cover upon the jewel, by which it was entirely hid, the whole being placed under the folds of her dress. The arrangements for the Baron's departure were simple and easily made, his sister, a lady with a large family, whose means were limited, undertook the care of his child and his castle, she and her family taking up their residence there. Mrs. Wolferstan, was to be mistress of the Castle, Colonel Wolferstan, to take charge of the estate and all outside affairs ; Ethel Wolferstan, a girl two years older than Rliby was received by the latter with joy ; now a great want she had sighed over from her infancy was THE HOLY STONE. 17 supplied, she had a companion. The girls loved each truly, Ethel's brown eyes, and long dark hair being the admiration of Ruby, who, until she saw her cousin, had never seen so fair a face except in her mirror, and that, looked on from infancy, had no charm for its possessor. Two years had passed since Lord Seymore had left his castle, Ethel shared in all Ruby's lessons and equalled her in quickness. Mr. Sydney, their French and German master, was a young man scarcely twenty years of age, the son of a widow -who had lately come to settle at Sydenhault Oaks, the town which Seymore castle, with its broad lawns and old rookery almost divided in two ; the commercial part, its streets sloping almost perpen- dicularly down to the wharves, east of the rocky height on which the castle stood, while the residence of profes- sional men, and of old half-pay officers, occupied the table-land to the west ; the little town like the castle, was bounded on one side by the sea, on the other by the hills and dark pine woods. Mr, Sydney had been educated partly in France and partly in Germany, his father, an artist whose pictures, — beautiful works of art which adorned the walls of the widow's humble dwelling, — had gained the painter a name and little else. His widow lived on a small annuity her own heritage, her son earning a precarious pittcmce by teaching the languages he had spoken in his boyhood, and understood perhaps better than his own. This it was that introduced him to Seymore Castle, as the French and German master of its heiress. '" Herbert Sydney had a rarely beautiful face, his dark B I; ;• 'j •») . i8 THE HOLY STONE. brown eyes and hair suited well with the complexion almost olive, the rich blood painting freshly both cheek and lip, his figure tall and handsome, his manners refined, almost courtly, sucb an one, as a wise parent would not have entertained the idea of making preceptor to, or even bringing in contact with, young ladies of rank so supe- rior to his own. Mrs. Wolferstan considered the presence of Miss Crompton, a very stiff, precise governess of at least forty years of age, amply sufficient to prevent advances on the young man's part ; as to Ruby, she ignored the very idea of a girl of fourteen years old even thinking of a lover, she herself at that age would have been better pleased with a box of sugar plums or a bright sash, and she measured Ruby's sensitive, loving temperament by her own obtuse nature. In Ethel she had all confidence ; she had been her daughter's instructress with regard to her choice of a a husband ; the first thing to be looked for, was an eldest son, a title if possible, in any case a fortune must be secured, without which marriage was almost a sin. Mrs. Wolferstan with dense stupidity, directed her daughter's attention to the life of almost privation they had all en- dured, owing to her own want of caution in marrying a man who had only expectations from an uncle, which uncle, was still, after a lapse of eighteen years, hale and hearty, while his Aephew Colonel Wolferstan's hair was turning grey. Alas ! how sadly she had miscalculated and misjudged the hearts and heads of both girls. THE HOLY STONE. 19 Herbert Sydney spent two hours each day at Seymore Castle, reading from the same book, now with Ruby, now with Ethel, leaning over first one fair head, and then the other, as he read and corrected exercises. Two happy years for the fi\ir girls and the handsome boy, en- folding all three in a mantle of romance and sunshine, — to end in what ? — separation, — exile and toil in a foreign land, — anxious, beating hearts, full of unrest. Ethel Wolferstan, loved Herbert Sydney with a love full of passionate hopes, which even then, made her cheek pale as marble when the possibility of separation in after years crossed her brain, but she put these thoughts from her with a strong will, she had never been thwarted in all her life, and she would not be thwarted now. And Herbert Sydney, what of him ? did he love the beautiful dark haired girl, whose eyes met his with such a flash of joy as he taught her to say with clearer pro- nunciation and less of English accent, ''je vous aime f* Yes, Herbert Sydney loved both these fair girls, each in her degree, Ethel with her sparkling eye and speaking brow and lip, her graceful step and figure rounded like a Ilcbe, was the object of his admiration, and sometimes of his wonder, her intellect, so far in advance of the other girls of her age whom he taught, made him sometimes ask himself how it was possible she could know so much. He loved her as he might a goddess, an angel or a star he might never hope or wish to win, but Ruby in her youth- ful innocence had all his unfettered heart. He had never asked himself the question " what is to come of all this ? " In the last two years his love had ■hn ^ '-\ ' i t 'i- i I t- ■ ^ '■ ■; I ,: 1 4 1 ■ 1 iMii 20 THE HOLY STONE. become part of his being. Poor boy ! he was soon to have his awakening from his dream of fair girls, — low soft music, — sunlit grassy knolls, — wild thyme and roses. His eyes were to open upon hideous rocks, a wild sea,— Uti li III 1.1|!|; CHAPTER III. ST. WOLFGANG'S WELL. T HE day] had been rk and gloomy, but had cleared up towards evening, the girls had been in the house all day, and they now proposed to go for a long walk up among the hills in the pine wood. Away they went, climbing the hill outside the castle gate, and were soon lost to sight amid the laurel and mountain ash growing half way up. Ethel stopped at a narrow path leading to a spring of clear water welling out of the rock, and falling into a deep stone basin below, which, with a i semi-circular seat cut in the rock tradition said had been made for the benefit of thirsty travellers, by Abbot I Wolfgang, in the old Saxon times, and was still called I St. Wolfgang's Well. " We will go down and have a nice, cool draught of [water at St. Wolfgang's well," said she ; " we have three hours of daylight left and we will make the most of [them." The girls ran down the narrow winding path on the [hill, and for the hundredth time stood on tiptoe to read [the legend cut in the rock above. Stop, weary pilgrim, stop and tell Your beads beside this holy well. And pray that you in heaven may meet • The Saint who built this well and seat. 21 I ■ 22 THE HOLY STONE. I : ' I'i m m\ They then drank of the cool water, making cups of their rosy hands, sitting on the stone seat with their| faces seaward. " T,ook at that !" exclaimed Ethel, pointing down tol the beach, which was seen clearly from the height where they sat, " St. Wolfgang's chair is clear of the sea, this is I what I have been watching for ever since we came to Seymore, if we walk quickly we shall be in time to climb up and sit in the Saint's chair before the tide turns, it is| still going out." St. Wolfgang's chair, of which Ethel spoke, was a| great rock whose base was generally hid by the waves, it was beyond the low tide mark, hence it was only at I certain seasons of the year accompanied by very low tides, that the base could be reached dry shod, but it| lou/al be reached and the rock climbed. Several ad- venturous young ladies in the upper town were wont to! boast of having climbed it, and eaten thefr luncheon sitting on the Saint's seat, and looking through his window at the ships as they sailed out to sea. The window refened to being an immense hole formed in the pointed top of the rock, through which one could look by standing on the shelving portion below, whcrej tradition said the Saint had both sat and slept for years previous to his death ; fed, Elijah-like, by the rooks from| the castle rookery. Ruby was ove joyed at the prospect of this rathcrl hazardous expedition, to sit in St. Wolfgang's seat was an old ambition of hers, and one which she had never had a chance of realizing under the staid rule of Monica] and Miss Crompton, r t THE HOLY STONE. 23 Away the girls went at a brisk rate, alrr.ost in a straight line through the principal street in the upper town. As they passed a corner house, Ethel glanced along the upper windows, smiled and bowed to some one who looked out at herself and Ruby. *' That is Mrs. Sydney's house," said she, blushing as she spoke, " and Mr. Sydney is sitting at the window." " How do you know it is Mrs. Sydney's house ?" asked Ruby. " I know it, that is enough, if you wish to be sure look back, you will see Mr. Sydney still sitting there looking after us." Ruby's heart beat quicker as her cousin spoke, and the hot blood mounted to hei' cheek and brow ; she did not look back neither did she reply but she asked her- self the question, so often within the last two years thought of, never spoken, " which of us does Herbert Sydney like best ?" The ^nrls passed on to the table-land above the rocks which lined the shore, and seeking out one of the many winding foot-paths leading to the sea, tripped lightly down to the beach. Herbert Sydney looked at his wal^h as they passed, it was eight o'clock, he leaned from his window until they entered the sea-ward path, jno were lost to his sight in their winding descent , "What can bring thorn to walk on the sea-sl'orc at this hour?" he asked hin ;.t!i, " I wish I could folio a 'hem and take them home ; I l.ope they will not attempt to gather shells, the tide will turn in half an hour, and it is a spring tide to-night," i' u MM ■24 THE HOLY STONE. X The lad at one moment felt impelled by some inward monitor to follow the two girls, one of whom was all the world to him, the next moment drawing back from an act which he feared might be deemed intrusive. Why do we listen to these spirit warnings and heed them not, until the time when we might have saved our- selves or others has passed away forever ? The girls had mistaken the place where; the path-vay winding among the grassy knolls, would come out, ana when at last they gained the beach they were r* lon^ way from St. Wolfgang's Rock. They wf^re not to be foiled however, the obstacle of a walk along the sandy beach was not to prevent the achievement of their pur- pose. The rock is gained, they are standing almost at k:, base, close by the reef of smaller rocks which make it impossible for boats to come to shore near St. W^olf- gang's bed. These rocks were so completely covered with seaweed, that the girls were almost tempted to turn back ; they look up to the great hole in the top of the rocky height, — that decides them, wet feet or not they will go on, besides, they say to each other, '* It may not be so wet after all," — they wonder when they feel how hard the wet sand is, covered as it nearly always is by deep water, their feet only leave the slightest prints, scarcely a dent, it is so hard. The base of the rock is covered by sea-weed many feet in depth, it is a troublesome ascent, they fall back again so often, — they have to climb with hands and feet both ; THE HOLY STONE. 25 e inward as all the from an ind heed ived our- path'vay out, ana "e r* lonti lot to be he sandy heir pur- est at 't i make it St. Wolf- seaweed, ,ck ; they y height, 11 go on, e so wet lard the by deei) scarcely any feet ck again et both ; .5* I but it is done with mirth and laughter, the very toil is part of the pleasure. ' How we shall surprise them all," said Ethel, when I the worse part of the ascent was over, "when we tell them of our perilous adventure, of our many falls amongst the sea-weed, and our climbing and clinging to the sharp, Ijutting edges of the rock, I daresay they will scarcely jbelieve us." " They will believe us when they see '"'ur hands and dresses," replied Ruby, " my gloves are gone long ago down among the sea-weed, my dress is torn, and my hrrds are scratched and bleeding ; but I do not feel it ^'^■A tbj ^east, — Oh ! I am so glad we came ; if I were a DO} { would be a sailor or a fisherman, and live all the iiriic out among the rocks." The top is gained, — and they sit down to rest on the aint's bed, now that the excitement is over, feeling tired nough. The Saint's bed looks toward the hills, and hey can see nothing from thence save the rocks lining he shore, and the green banks sloping up to the table- and above, beyond all, the outline of the pine woods n the other side of the village. They turn round, and tandiiig i^/i il.e seat, look out to sea through the Saint's indo Tuer': indeed is a sight that fills their hearts nd t:yv. ^oth. Far out in the offing, one — two — h je ship? disuiictly to be seen, while as they strain heir sight, and their eyes become accustomed to sea nd sky, they can discern first one sail, and then an- ther ; one is making for the harbour of Sydenhault )aks. They stand there for some time counting the ! : ii , .1 I ■■*:> <' ■ ij THE HOLY STONE. ■I ii I ■lill ' IV, little fishing boats following one another, their white sails glittering in the rays of the setting sun, as they stand out to sea. Suddenly Ruby looks down the side of the rock on which they stand, and calls the attention of her cousin to the waves at its base, saying* with white lips — " Look, Ethel ! look ! " " What a little goose you are," laughed Ethel, *' don't you know that the sea is always deep on this side of the rock,»^the sand will be dry on the other side for an hour after the tide turns, and it has not turned yet." Alas ! alas ! the tide was turning as the girls were climbing the i^ k ! The fishing u > sail on and on, passing within sight of the girls, as the)' ..v^me out from the harbour of Syden- hault Oaks, — how beautiful they look, each with its white sail spread to catch the breeze, — the wind is light, it is scarcely felt. The ship they were watching is now clearly in view, sails, masts and hull, are all visible. They watch the fishing boats again. The clouds seem to have come between them and the boat", they look so dim, and yet it is such a short time since they came out ; they cannot have gone so far as to make them look dim like that. They look at the incoming ship, — they can- not see her so well as they saw her before, — simul- taneously they look at the sky, it is growing dark, a few drops of rain fall upon their upturned faces. They do not utter a word, but they look into each others eyes, and each while face tells the other its silent tale,- — they must haste to leave the rock, — they wish they had not staid so long. THE HOLY STONE. 27 Their heads are drawn quickly in from the Saint's window, and descending from the seat they looked down to where, when they climbed up the rock, lay a wet, ' sandy beach, with a belt of thickly growing sea-weed reaching far above their heads ; — there is now neither sand nor sea-weed to be seen, only a wide waste of waters. The great, swelling waves of the spring tide with their white foaming crests climbing far up on the beach, between them ?.nd the rocky banks ! They neither moved nor spoke, — they scarcely breathed, yet each young girl knew but too well there was at least ten feet of water around the rock at the shallowest place, that every moment it was becoming deeper, and deeper. The rain was falling heavy and cold ; dark- ness fast coming on. They clasped each other's hands, and looked with piteous eyej each in the pale face of the other, as if they would plead to their Father in heaven for the help they despaired of. Ruby was the first to speak. " We must sit here all night, and with our white dresses, make a flag that will attract the attention of the fishing boats when they are coming home." Ethel answered not ; she knew that no fishing boat could come near St. Wolfgang's Rock, owing to the belt of breakers which surrounded it. She feared it was the time of the spring tides. She calculated as well as she was able the time of the full moon, alas ! it was but too surely the spring tide, and the waves ere midnight would be passing and repassing through St. Wolfgang's window, to which they now clung, two feet above the seat ^i lilMi 28 THE HOLY STONE. I : Looking from the castle tower, she had seen the sea more than once foaming and boiling over the rock, the jagged point above the window hidden as the base ; that it would be so to-night she knew too well ! " Can you swim. Ruby ?" , " Oh ! no ! Can you swim, Ethel ?" " I wish I could ; I never saw the sea until we came to live at Seymore castle." " Perhaps one of the ship's crew might see us, if we tear open one of our dresses and hold it up." " If they could, how can they save us from a rock that a boat cannot come near ?" " Perhaps some brave seaman might swim to the rock and take us off. — I'll try it. Ruby unfastened her white muslin dre -s, and tearing it from its belt, let it float out to the breeze. ** Dear Ruby, it is worse than useless doing that, no one can see so small a flag so far away, the night is coming on dark and rainy. I have brought you out here to die." I " No, Ethel, you didn't bring me here, I wanted to come as much as you did. I have never seen the sea beyond the base of the rock but twice before, and both times I cried because Monica would not allow me to try to climb up." Ethel did not reply, her heart was too full and sad for words, she was certain they had come to St. Wolf- gang's Rock to die ; she felt that ere midnight they would both be washed out to sea, and her brain reeled THE HOLY STONE. 29 as she remembered Ruby's white face an hour ago, when gazing with affright on the leaping waves she said, " Look, Ethel ! look ! " Had she heeded the warning then, they might now have been safe. The sea comes up and up, higher and higher towards them, each wave as it comes on, rising to their feet. " We will pray to God, Ethel, He who made the sea and the rocks. He can save us." Ruby clasps her white hands together, and kneels down on the Saint's seat. The waves leap up and up, higher and higher towards them, roaring like living creatures round their feet. They are drenched with the salt sea water to their knees. They stand on the Saint's bed, clinging to the jagged projections round the win- dow. But the sea, like some remorseless monster that I will not let them go, follows them; it will soon reach them even there. Ruby pleads with clasped hands and [upturned face — "Our Father, which art ii. Heaven." Ethel's lips moye not, but the cry of her soul ascends to the footstool of the Great All Father. '*(0 Lord have mercy, have mercy upon us."A :i1 ' 11 ^ riiii CHAPTER IV. HERBERT SYDNEY sat watching for the return of the young ladies of Seymore Castle. The evening was waning, but surely there was no cause for fear in two girls walking on the sea shore, or even on the sands ! What could harm them ? So he reasoned with himself, yet his restlessness and anxiety to follow them increased almost every minute. The room door opened, and the old servant who, aided by a little girl, served Mrs. Sydney as both cook and house- maid, made her appearance. " Mr. Herbert, the Missus desired me ask you to go to Miss Devine's to bring her home at half-past nine." " Very well, Sarah, I'll go." Motion was a relief, he looked at his watch, the hand pointed to half-past nine. He snatched up his hat, and shortly presented himself in Miss Devine's modest sit- ting-room, where he found his mother rather impatient to be at home. Adieux over, they took their home- ward way. " I am very uneasy to-night, mother." " What makes you so ? " ** I fancy you will laugh if I tell you what it is." " Even if I do laugh, the best way to dissipate your disquiet is to tell its cause to another." 30 TIIK nor.V STONE. 31 " Then I will tell you, about an hour ago, I saw Miss ISeymore and her cousin go towards the sea-shore, by [one of the footpaths leading from the plateau down the Iclifirs, and they have not yet returned," — he stopped. * I see no cause for uneasiness in this, further than |that it is late for young ladies in their position to be ibroad unattended." " That is true, and had they taken an opposite direc- tion for their walk, I probably should not have felt dis- turbed about it, but they are both fearless, and some- how I fancy they have gone to gather sea-shells ; to- light is the spring tide, the sea will come rapidly in, and nay cover the beach." " Then why don't you take a walk to the shore by the way thf^y went, find them, and bring them home ? " This was exactly what the young man wished to do, md its being suggested by another, made it seem right to him that he should do as he wished. " I will, I'll leave you at the door, and go in search )f them ; I cannot be gone more than an hour." Hebert Sydney is wandering about on the top of the :lififs, straining his eyes in all directions in search of two rjrlish figures in white muslin dresses. It is raining, md the night is getting darker every moment, no noving object of any kind is to be seen ; he calls out ith all his strength. His answer comes from the moan- ||ng sea. " Surely," he says, speaking aloud, " they can- lot be on the beach so late ; yet I must satisfy myself that they are not ; they most likely returned while I was It Miss Devine's." i •[■ I' .;: - i ; 32 THE HOLY STONE. i'h\ !i m , 4 % The sea was so dark that if any moving object ini white was on the beach, he could not have failed to stc| it- " Yet," he said to himself, " it is but a half hour's run to the water's edge, I shall sleep sounder for the exercise." He sought one of the foot-paths leading to the shore, and descending the rocky height, found the white-crested waves covering both the sand and the shingle beach, dashing up the rocky heights ; half an hour ago, in the dim light, he had mistaken the crested waves for the white beach. The rocks hemmed him in on either side, and he shuddered as he thought — could the girls have been caught by a retreating wave ? The rain ceased, and the moon which had been hidden beneath the clouds, shone bright above the expanse of waters. Her- bert Sydney looked up to the suddenly brightened heaVtns, and beheld two girls clinging to the opening in the peaked top of St Wolfgang's Rock ! The waves climbing one after another up to their feet, like white- maned monsters, the spray dashing over the heads of the girls, and over the rock they clung to ! In an instant his coat and shoes were off and on the ground, and he himself amid the waste of waters, swimming with sturdy strokes towards the rock. Herbert Sydney was a famous swimmer. As a school- boy, he had swum in sport with his fellows across the Rhine ; his heart was now in his work, and in less time than he had given himself as he entered the water and measured the distance with his eye, he was standing on the Saint's seat, and lifting Ruby in his arms to help her bject in i to stcl urs run xercise." e shore, :-crested 2 beach, ), in the for the her side, rls have ceased, ath the s. Her- ghtened ening in waves white- s of the instant and he sturdy school- oss the ss time ter and iing on lelp her THE HOLY STONE. 33 down to the declivity where it was safest to enter the water. "Tak.; Ethel first, I cannot go until I know that she is safe." There was no time to parley ; Herbert had full con- fidence in his power to save both, but each moment was of importance ; a minute more or less might make or mar his work. It was not possible to lift Ethel as he couid have lifted Ruby ; taking her hand he directed her how to keep hold of his clothes without impeding his power of motion ; an instant more and both were launched amid the waves ! ^-^^ ijil! 1 i i 'I 1 i ! ! i! 1 ; ' \ r. \. ,■ ■■ . V I CHAPTER V. ;ii '! I i: Hi Will I i 1 THE FISHERMEN. "TTNLESS those lads leave their look out before ten , yj minutes time, they'll have wet jackets when they reach the shore," said Thaniel Reil, to his sons. who with the old man, formed the crew of one of tl fishing boats which passed the Saint's Rock, going out to sea on the twentieth of May 1 8 — The youngest son had a pocket glass which he ap- plied to his eye, and at once saw that the heads were those of girls ; on telling this to his father, the old man and the elder boys laughed, saying : " Haco has been thinking of girls. He sees those that were in his thoughts." The boy still adhered to his statement that he saw the heads of two girls, one with fair hair shining in th light of the rosy clouds, . which still marked the st.^ where the sun had set. The old man looked through the glass ; they were now further off, and the outline only of the figures could be distinctly seen, they were either girls or very young boys. As they went out to sea, the waves began to assume larger proportions ; there was a ground swell, the night was falling. The oldest son observed : " It is going to be a stronger incoming tide to-night than we have had for seven years." The old man had for some time been thinking of those heads they saw on the rock, and bade his son try if he 34 THE HOLY STONE. 3S could see them again through the glass. The boy could not discern the figures as before, but saw the white mus- lin floating out from the rock. " We will turn about lads, and see who they are," said the father, " they have put that out for a signal ; they want help." " We cannot get near them, father, for the sunk rocks, and we shall lose our night's fishing," replied the eldest son ; " it's some boys from the town who are trying to play a trick, and make the fisher boats turn back from their work" " I dinna think that, Hugh man. I have done nothing but think o' them foolish creatures up there since we passed ihem, and so we'll een go about and see if they need help. If foolish Aldie was to perish there to-night, I should never forget my sin in putting the life o' a fel- low creature against what we could gain for a week, far less one night's work. It's no a poor fool lik j Aldie that's there, but them that would be sore missed at some man's fireside, so we'll just let t'boat go about." The two eldest lads put the boat in order for return- ing towards the rock, although it was with no good grace ; they thought they were on a fool's errand, and one by which they would lose a night's work ; their time was their money. The darkness was spreading over land and sea, and a heavy rain falling. The lads pulled at their oars with willing hands ; if they were to go home, the .sooner they were there the better, a storm was brewing. As they neared St Wolfgang's rock, the sight they saw made them hold their breath. The moon was out, the rain clouds passed away. — Up between them and the sky were three figures clinging to the rock between the I. ;i I! 4- n IF ^6 THE HOLY STONE. Saint's bed and the needle eye, hidden to the waist by the waves. The fishermen called aloud to attract attention to themselves if possible ; they were too far ofif to be heard, — Two of the figures plunged into the waves and made for the shore. The fishermen laid to their oars as if their very lives depended on each boat's length they made ; on and on they went, their eyes fixed on the swimmers. A huge wave came thundering past, almost upsetting the boat with its little crew ; they soon righted. The same re- morseless sea, caught the swimmer and her he sought to save, and hurled them out beyond St. Wolfgang's rock, yet so near the boat that the fishermen could hear the screams of the girl, and see her white robes. They pulled as they never pulled before, each moment seemed a life time. The boat stops — two of the fisher- men are in the sea. — The swimmer and the girl are both seized ! — They are saved ! -:- They are in the boat. A second time they pull for the rock. — Above these dangerous breakers the eddying whirl of the waves threaten every moment to whelm their little bark. Up and up the huge billows climb like wild sea horses ; St. Wolfgang's bed is covered by the waves, the spray mounting high above its utmost peak, at times hiding the figure of Ruby completely from sight. The waves are swelling to greater volume every moment. The boat is like a cockle shell on those wild angry waters, every inch of canvass is lying in the bottom of the boat. It takes the strength of the four men to keep her afloat and ii THE HOLY STONE. 37 in motion. Herbert Sydney is stand ingf in the bt)w, every nerve strung to its utmost tension. The little vessel makes more headway in a second, than he as a swimmer could make in sixty. The eyes of all are fixed on the rock. The pointed top, with Ruby clinging there, one moment distinctly seen, the next hidden by sea foam. The great roller which returns with every ninth wave, comes thundering on. It is now the old Dane, the des- cendant of the Sea King, shews his seamanship, — he calls aloud to his boys, — he adroitly turns the helm. — The boat rides on the top of the wave like a great sea- bird. A moment more they are as near the rock as they dare venture. Herbert Sydney is again in the sea, battling with the waves. Great swelling waves, which were he not the swimmer he is, would sweep him past the rock out to mid ocean. His head is raised, his eyes fixed on the rock. It is the backward sweep of the waves ; the spray is down for a moment — Merciful Heaven ! the sea sweeps over the rock — and Rub}' is nowhere to be seen ! The men in the boat utter a cry of horror. Echel's i;rcat dark ey.es are fixed on the waste of water. — A low wail of despair passes from her white parched lips. — " Ruby ! — Ruby ! " The swimmer is striving as a man never strove for his life. He knows by the eddy and whirl exactly where the peak of the rock is, hidden though it be. The clouds are scudding swiftly over the moon, she is shining now with a light as bright as d.iy on the spot ; he is so near he distinctly sees Ruby's head, its golden hair floating out on the waters. 1 ; i ' ■ ' !' '. : 1 i i. 38 THE IIOLV STONE. li , , ! r ,!i: I ; I ; Another great wave sweeps past, he must battle with it, or it will sweep him towards the shore. His eye never for one moment relaxes its hold of the golden hair. The waves are mounting up over the rock, forming a cone of v/!iite spray around and above it, as if a water spout had gathered there, and was striving to rejoin the mois- ture in the upper air. From the boat the fishermen see the swimmer enter the whirling cone of spray. With faces white with hor- ror they look into each other's eyes. The old man groans aloud, Ethel sits with clenched hands a ' staring eyes as if bereft of reason. A minute passe.-) or per- haps two, they seem like hours. The old man is the first to speak. " God help us — they are both gone — may He receive their souls in mercy. — We are no use here now, — take to your oars, lads." The old Dane looks out over the waters that he may set his helm for the safest way home. The lads grasp their o?rs, which, since the swimmer left them, they have been holding lightly ; merely to keep the boat steady. The boy Haco gives a loud huzza ! — They all turn their faces in the direction of the rock. — The swimmer is coming towards them out of the spray, bat- tling the waves with one arm, the other firmly grasp- ing Ruby ! The two lads wh6 were in the sea before plunge in a second time — Herbert Sydney and Ruby are safe in the boat. The old man takes off his heavy boat cloak. Ruby is enfolded in it and placed beside Ethel, who is lying on the sails in the bottom of the boat. Herbert Sydney kneels beside Ruby, and gently THE HOLY STONE. 39 wrings the sea water from her hair ; she has neither opened her eyes nor spoken a word since she was taken from the rock, " What way shall wc get the ladies home ? " said Thaniel Reil, when they had turned the boat in the direction of Sydenhault Oaks harbour ; " when we get to the pier, they're too wet and weary to ^ walk, the young one looks as if she would never walk again." " If we're in time to see the steamboat off," replied his son, I would na' wonder but the Honorable Mr. Penryth will send them home in his coach himsel ; t'old Countess *. and t'niad Lord and two or three of t'servants are all going to take a trip in t'steamboat for t'old lady's health, but t'steamboat starts at midnight, and I reckon its nigh that already ; we have a half hour's good rowing before we'll come to the pier." The father looked up to the sky and then down to the shadows of the oars, as they fell on the moonlit waves. " Ay " said he, " we'll be there in time, but ye'U have to draw your oars to ye, ye'U take all ye're time. " I wonder," continued the fisherman, " if that proud peat will let the poor things wet as they aiC; into his coach, it'll cost him a new red silk lining if he does, and he docs'na like to draw his purse strings, but if they do na' get into t'coac«h, he can na' refuse the dog cart that the servants 'ill come in." " Mr. Penryth will not refuse the use of his coach to Lord Seymore's daughter and her cousin," said Herbert Sydney, M It ^fi'^ f ■ [^1 t -i; M I. -i ! 1 1 '^ . r;_.L LAi no wtm li 40 THE HOLY STONE. i I " No, that he won't, if they're ladies of that quality," said Hugh "and they look just like it, but what made gentlefolk like them be rampin up on the rocks so late at e'en, wi a young lad like you ?" " The ladies came out to walk alone, and probably seeing the rock bare for the first time, climbed up to enjoy the view from the Saint's Hed, as I and doubtless you have done when the rock could only be reached by wading up to the knees through salt water. 1 did not come down to the beach until the waves were above the sand and the shingle both, and nearly up to the Saint's seat on the rock," " Your a mettlesome chap," said the father, to try to save two of them from the top of yon rock, and nobody to help you. " My efforts would have been of small a /ail had you not come with your boat to the rescue when you did, had you been three minutes sail further off I doubt much if either they or I would have been living now." ** Do you bide in the town, or are you one of the Castle folks too ? " " I have no such good fortune as to live in a Castle. I am a teacher, and know the young ladies because I have taught them for two years," '•If you're a schoohnaster, you know b«^"tter how to speak to Mr. Penryth than me or my boys, so when we come to the pier, you'll as well go for'ard and bespeak the coach from his Lordship ; he's a proud upsetting man, and may be he has a right t'be that, being at he's THE HOLY STONE. 4» lord of all t'country round, only t'littlc bit that follows Castle Scyrnore from t'sea to t'hills, but I heard an old Scotchman from Balmoral where t'Queen goes to take the fresh air every svmimer, say at, 'she speaks to all t'poor folk round about,' and he'll have to stand wi' his hat in his hand in her ])resence, I'll warrant ye." *' He's a man I can no abide," said Hugh, taking up his speech where his father left off, "and there's few that like him, I'll warrant. I would spend all my hard won earnings for a month, to see him stand i.i the Queen's Castle door quite humble with his hat ofil, an' her goin' ])ast an' never letting her eyes touch him, wi' her gold crown on her head, and her velvet rob'js covered wi' diamonds, trailing behind her so grand, that would pay off all my scores to him. I have gone to the Hall wi' the best o' our fish every week for five years, many a hundred times he's passed me, and I always lift my hat quite respectful, but he never yet had t'tongue that said, good een or good day to me." "Well Hugh, if ye serve t'King o'Kings, He'll speak to ye and call ye his faithful servant when t' Honorable Mr. Penryth is lying in t ground, and his land an title no one bit o'good to him." " If t'mad Lord were to get his wits again, they would no be nmch to him t'day " said Hugh. " How is that ? " inquired Herbert Sydney, interested to hear about this proud man, he was to ask a favor from, if he were fortunate enough to find him on the wharf. •' Because," replied old Thaniel, " Lord Syd^*nhault, [t'cldest brother was long away in foreign parts, and come i\ i I i 1 42 THE HOLY STONE. home wrong in t'head just before his father died, and he] never got his mind' back again, an so Mr. Penryth rules 'aw out an in, but gin t'mad Lord wad get his senses back again, he wid turn over a new leaf. I 'ave had many a crack wi' t' Forester about both t'gentlemen, an' he says its a real pity. Lord Sydenhault was always as good as gold and t'one that has aw' the power now boy and man t'sanie, never a kind look or a cheery word to give to anyone. Hut you see, a man out o'his mind could na' guid his land or his siller, so they had to change places, t'old Lady is stone blind for many a year back, but she takes good care of Lord Sydenhault for all that. He's very fond of fishing, (t'foolish one) and 1 whiles have her Ladyship's orders to bring up bait for him mysel, and she aye comes to the lawn with t'mad Lord when I bring t'bait, and speaks real kind, and t' Forester says she never lets him away from her, he leads her about everywhere, but I'm thinkin it's her at takes cares o'him, not him o'her." They were within a few boat lengths of the pier where the broad full moon was shining brightly down on the wharf, making one part as light as day, and throwing the other into deep shadow. The steamboat was in her usual place, the gangway was still extended to the wharf, and busy people were passing and repassing. Lord Sydenhault's carriage and dog-cart were on the qua)', and they could distinctly see a gentleman helping a lady to descend from the steps of the carriage while one or tv/o servants stood around. Ethel was leaning over Ruby trying to make her speak or move, but all her efforts were equally futile ; Ruby lay with closed eyes THE HOLY STONE. 43 just as she had been brought into the boat ; she breath- ed, and once or twice sighed wearily, but she was either unconscious, or so weak as to be wholly unable to speal^ a word or make a sign. On arriving at the quay, Herbert Sydney at once hurried to the wharf to ask for the use of the Sy- dcnhault carriage, while the fishermen aided by two gentlemen from the steamboat who had seen there was trouble of some kind on board the little boat, and had come to their assistance, busied themselves in carrying the two girls from where they lay on the dripping sails. Mr. Sydney in a few words told the Honorable Mr, Penryth the need Lord Seymore's daughter and her cousin had for the use of his carriage, the request was at once acceded to with a degree of courtesy which from the conversation he had been listening to among the fishermen, Herbert did not expect. While talking to Mr. Penryth, Herbert's eye took in the group of figures in front of him, on cither side and behind. An elderly lady whose eyes covered by catar- ^.* act proclaimed her to be the blind Countess, leaned on the arm of Mr. Penryth ; while she held her other son {^ently by the hand as if he were a boy who she feared might run away, the dreamy absent look in the latter's eyes telling that he was the mad Lord. What the fisher- men had said, made Herbert Sydney regard him with an amount of interest he would not otherwise have felt ; it was probably the expression of the young man's eye j which first attracted Lord Sydenhault's notice, and H f'l ■ ': i r - I 44 THE HOLY STONE. i'.ii lini ;i .■i'iilll made him fancy the coatless and hatless lad some one he| had seen and known. No sooner had Mr. Penryth gone to give orders to the coachman as to the conveyance of the young ladies to their home, than Lord Sydenhault releasing himself from his mother's hold came up to Herbert, and putting one of his hands on each shoulder of the lad, looked earnest- ly into his eyes, not certainly with the air of an insane person, but rather with the manner of one who speaks in his sleep, saying as he did so, "Speak again, who are| you ? — Tell me your name ? " Herbert answered the soft kindly look of the dark brown eyes with a corresponding friendliness in hie own as he replied to the last question. " Herbert Sydney," " Herbert Sydney — Sydney — Herbert Sydney," said Lord Sydenhault in a half conscious dreamy sort of way, as if he was trying to bring something to his re- membrance which eluded him like the shadowy frag- ments of a half forgotten dream, Mr. Penryth had observed the attitude of his brother, although from the distance at which he stood it was not possible he could have heard the words he addressed to Herbert, and calling to the servant in an angry voice he said ; " Brown ! attend to your master. What do you mean by allowing my Lord to talk in that way to people on the wharf ? " The servant took Lord Sydenhault gently by the hand and led him to his mother, whose sightless eyes and THE HOLY STONE. 45 stretched out hand were already taking the direction of the spot where her son stood. Mr. Penryth came up hurriedly, and giving his arm to his mother, led his party, followed by the servants, towards the gangway of the vessel, giving a fierce contemptuous glance at the half clad dripping figure of Herbert as hft passed. The proud boy returned the glance of the proud man, by one of angry defiance. One of those who helped to carry the dripping girls up the jetty steps, was an officer who had been spending a week or two with some friends in Sydenhault Oaks. He had frequently seen and admired Ethel Wolferstan, and endeavored without effect to obtain an introduction to her, and as he leaped into the boat, was surprised to sec that the object of his admiration was one of those to [whom he had come to render aid. Ethel, with her marble face framed by the folds of I dripping black hair which hung below her waist, was j more beautiful by far than Ethel, as the officer had before seen her in a studied walking costume, and as he placed the lady on one of the cushions of Lord Sydenhaul'ts carriage, and arranged the wraps around her, he made up his mind to return to his friends in the little town [upon the hills above, at least for another week. Ethel had at once recognized the gentleman who I lifted her so gently into the carriage as one^^he had seen more than once in church, and passing the castle gate, .1 place which generally formed an attraction to the girls, [from the monotony of the lawns and garden inside. He hvas a handsome distinguished looking man, very su- Ipcrior in appearance to the retired annuitants, lawyers ; i' „- 1 , :U :tl {•. \\ HI I : S' .'I 3 ■I ^ ! ■:. I' n ! f 1 1 '• T^ '46 THE HOLY STONE. 15 i and doctors who formed the male portion of society in| Sydenhault Oaks, and it was with a feelinj^ akin ti pleasure that she heard him say to some one near liiiiii as he left the carriage, "Go quickly, Jones, and brin^ my traps from the steamboat, I will remain another vveck| where I am." , i . ; } i CHAPTER VI. HERBKRT SYDNEY. THE summer had passed, the short sunny days of autumn, that all enjoy with a sweet sorrow, be- I cause each soft mild day with its brown and golden leaves — its sheaves of rich grain standing midst the j stubble — is bringing us nearer to stern winter, with his cold breath, snow storms, and icebound brooks, those mild grey sweet days of autumn, were fleeting all too (soon. I'Lthel Wolferstan was once more well and in buoyant [spirits, exulting in the attentions of Colonel Ponsonby. The young man found a ready welcome at Seymore Castle from Colonel Wolferstan, for whom he left his card the morning after the accident, which enabled him to render assistance to the young lady whose acquaintance [for weeks previous he had endeavoured in vain to make. Colonel Wolferstan at once recognized in him the son fof General Sir Alexander Ponsonby, his senior officer, [iindcr whom he had fought at Vittoria during the Pen- finsular war, hence he was welcomed for his father's sake [as well as for his own. Ethel fancied she owed the young officer a debt of jratitude for the aid he had afforded to the fisherman in )ringing her up from the boat to the quay, and the sympathies of her parents took the same direction. The 47 i 48 THE HOLY STONE. ! , i m H. I V young officer was now Ethel's accepted lover. Strange i to say, she did not suffer much from the exposure to cold and wet she had endured during the time she had been with dripping garments on the rock, the waves breaking] over her feet, and subsequently engulfed as she had been more than once in that wild sea. If she did not leave the precincts of the castle for a week, it was more in ac- cordance with the wish of her medical attendant than from any real weakness. How was it with Ruby ? Many a week passed ere I the almost lifeless form carried into the castle on that eventful night was able to be moved from her own apartments to the drawing-room. Summer had passed away ere she again trod the green sward, or gladdened Jasper's heart by walking among his garden plots. During all the long, weary weeks in which it seemed uncertain whether Ruby would live or die, Herbert Sydney came every day to hear the sad response " no better," and to learn that the hitherto apathetic father j was now, half frantic with grief, day and night by the bedside of his darling child. And when she bc^gan to sit up and watch Jasper at his work, he saw her once, only once among those quaint old parterres. Ruby held out both her pale hands towards him, and when he came beside her, she took one hand of his in both her own, and pressed it to her cheek and brow. Ruby was very weak, and seeing Herbert Sydney whom she had last seen as he lifted her from out the watery column on St. Wolfgang's rock, made h'^r ^ art fluttered like an imprisoned bird that beats - the bars of its cage ; she could not speak, bu lie kent m THE HOLY STONE. 49 his hand and pressed it between both her own, as if she would thus tell all that was passing \n her heart, and turning her face up to his, she looked in his eyes with an expression of love true and deathless. Through good and ill, through storm or sunshine, o'er all the world that look went with him. After this, Ruby saw Herbert Sydney no more, but that day In the garden, the truth came suddenly to her soul, — she loved him with a love that would fill her heart for evermore, and with this knowledge came a fear- ful looking forward to a dim and hopeless future. She believed that Herbert Sydney's heart was in Ethel's keeping, a handful of violets gathered for Ruby, but given to Ethel because they were asked for, the ivory tablets also given to Ethel because of her expressed wish to obtain a set exactly similar, these precious things given into Ruby's keeping, lest Mrs. Wolferstan should see them among Ethel's ' white things,' told a tale to Ruby which made her feel that her love for Herbert Sydney, if betrayed, by word or sign, would be sin. She could not help loving him, but she would bury that love deep in her own bosom, and no one should ever know of its existence. Many times during those weary weeks of conva- lescence when she had been left so much alone, her father being obliged to return to his duties in London, she wished to return to Ethel the faded violets, — the ivory tablets, given to her so many weeks before — but she saw so little of her cousin that it had remained undone. Xow that the secret so long lying dormant in her heart was laid bare, she sought out Ethel, and putting the D f - B'l; H .Li 1 \- I ^ k £^ 50 Tlir: IIOLV STONE. little parcel containing the once treasured trifles into her hands, said : " I ought to have given you these long ago, Ethel." " What is this ? " wa.^ the reply, as Tlthei opened the tissue paper in which they were enfolded. At the first glance she smiled contemptuously, her face expressing no trouble — no regret, putting them down on the sofa on which they both were sitting, she continued : " Oh ! these love tokens of Mr. Sydney's, how ashamed I am I should have ever accepted them, ever kept them among my precious things. I hope -the poor lad has for- gotten that he ever had the assurance to give such to a pupil, particularly one in my rank of life." Colonel Ponsonby's attention to Ethel had efifectually cured her of her love for Herbert Sydney, which in reality was more a girlish fondness for admiration than anything else, but now that her eyes were opened to the evil which might have occurred to her through this imaginary passion, she determined, cost what it might, to save Ruby from a like folly. That night on the Saint's rock had shewn Herbert's secret to lier but too plainly, and thinking over the past, her memory went back to the cast down eyes, the burning blushes of Ruby, which she more than feared revealed a dream that the heiress of Castle Seymore must be awakened from at any cost Previous to that night on the rock, Ethel Wolferstan was a school girl, with all a school girl's romance, she was now a loving woman, loved by one in her own rank of life, and capable of discerning clearly the danger she had escaped, and to which Ruby was now exposed. y^m 1 THE HOLY STONE. 51 Ruby's thoughts burned on her cheek as she replied^ " Ethel, do you recollect that you asked for these violets and admired the tablets, saying you should like to have a set like them ? " •' I do remember perfectly, and I am ashamed to say I wished for these things because I believed myself be- loved by Mr. Sydney, and fancied I returned his love. It was a silly 'dream, from each phase of which I have awakened. The night he came to save jfon, not me, on St. Wolfgang's rock, he would have taken you and left me to perish ; bu that you insisted upon my being saved nrst. Afterwards, in the boat, all his attention was L^iven to you, Ethel lay unheeded, while, on what seemed to others Ruby's dead body, was lavished all his care." VAhc\ paused for a moment, and with crimsoned cheek and flashing eye, continued, — •' When we were brought to the quay, and afterwards to our home, I, shivering with cold, every feeling keenly alive, was left to the care of strangers ; you with the hue of death on yoAir face, without motion or apparent life, Herbert Sydney would permit no one to touch but him- self. It was well for me all this happened, in any event, it saved me from great trouble, — great folly. In the first place, ^ J* She who can love unloveil attain. Hath liettcr store of love than brain ; \ I'll kfop my love my (lcl)is lu |)ay, \ While unlhrifls foul ihcir lovo away I ' "In the next place," continued she, " had I not been mistaken in believing myself the object of the young man's admiration," (Ethel uttered the last word with a ,i ifH ^ •li :^i 52 THE HOLY STONE. contemptuous emphasis, accompanied with a curl of the upper lip, which implied more bitter things than even her words,) " our courtship, if it had proceeded so far as to deserve the name, could only have been productive of evil to both, nothing but my youth and inexperience could excuse my romantic fancy for one in his position. Under any circumstances he is very greatly to blame ; it is fortunately all past, I have not seen him since that ter- rible night, I hope we shall never meet again." Ruby was bewildered, she knew not what to make of all this, confined by weakness almost entirely to her own apartment, with the companionship of Miss Crompton and attended by Monica, she had heard and seen nothing of Colonel Ponsonby save as a gentleman who had help- ed to carry Ethel to the carriage from the boat, and who had continued to visit the family in consequence of his being the son of an old friend of Colonel Wolferstan ; thus the change in Ethel's feelings seemed to her almost miraculous. " I want to say a few more words to you Ruby, and then I hope what I consider my thoughtless conduct in allowing myself to be attracted by one of such inferior rank, will be a subject we shall never speak of again. When I spoke of Mr. Sydney trying to save you first, I did not mean you to understand that he loved you, only that he wished to save you who arc the heiress of Seymore castle. It was natural enough, the gratitude of your father would be unbounded, and might serve to raise him from his present position. That his ambition is great enough for anything, we know, although, from the cold- ness you have always shewn towards him, he could have i I THE HOLY STONE. S3 no hope of making an impression on your heart, as he almost succeeded in doing on mine." Many weeks passed away, Herbert Sydney came no more, but, from her aunt, Ruby learned that Lord Sey- more had written a letter to Herbert enclosing a large sum of money, as a reward for the service which had been rendered to himself through his child and her cousin. The money was returned with these words, " Mr. Sydney has already received a richer reward than any Lord Seymore can offer." " Dear aunt Wolferstan, how could papa be so cruel as to offer Mr. Sydney money for risking his life to save mine ? " *' Foolish child, your father owed him a large debt of gratitude, the young man presumed on this, and used to come every day to the house to ask tor you, it might have ended at last in his presuming to address you ; tliese sort of people never know where to stop, and to prevent any such undesirable audacity. Lord Seymore requested him to discontinue his visits to the castle. Ruby was still weak and ill then, too much so to sup- port the contending emotions excited by what she had heard. She had been taught by Sydney to value above all things else, whatever was noble, generous, good and true, and she knew he was all he wished to make her. Hours afterwards, folding her pale hands together in the solitude of her chamber she, exclaimed aloud : •' Oh that I were a peasant girl, and that Herbert Sydney loved me ! " Ruby's tell-tale cheek and brow would have told Mrs. Wolferstan the story of her feelings towards Herbert ;^''- f ■ ! I i-t i; 54 THE HOLY STONE. Sydney, even if she had not from a few hints dropped on purpose by Ethel, been watching for such signs, and she was not long in communicating her suspicion to Lord Seymore, impressing upon him the necessity of removing Ruby from the castle at least for a time. In reply to her letter her brother himself arrived, and after a lengthened conversation with his sister, announced his intention of taking Ruby to reside with him in London, giving as his reason the superior advantages She could obtain there from masters in every branch of her educa- tion. Ruby, who a year ago would have hailed with delight the idea of going to London, to see and hear the sights and sounds which she had heard described so vividly by both her aunt and Miss Crompton, now, listened to her father's words as if they contained the sentence of ban- ishment from all she most loved. Her aunt, Ethel, the servants, particularly Monica and Jasper, the house-dog, her pony, the trees in the rookery, the grass on the lawn, the pillars of the portico, the park-gate, the garden wall, every animate and inanimate thing by which she had been surrounded from infancy, became at once inexpres- sibly dear. There was another dearer than all, whom she must leave behind, without a word or sign to tell him how differently she felt from all around her. How, if she could, she would have thrown the gold her father offered him, into the deep sea from which he had rescued her. It was early morn, the clock struck six. Ruby had been up and dressed for hours, she could not rest ; it was her last day at Sydenhault Oaks, — in Seymore Ca. tie, — she rmSI THE HOLY STONE. 55 would not return for years, perhaps never ; the very thought gave her a sickening heart pang. " I must go and visit all the old places once more," thought she, and putting on her hat and shawl, she was soon amid the quaint garden beds with their old fashion- ed Spring flowers. Jasper came towards her, a small bouquet of lily of the valley in his hand. '• Is that for me, Jasper ? " " Well ye'U, get it if ye like. I did'na ihink ye would be so soon out, the sun is not strong yet and the morn- ings are cold : I have roses for you in the green house, I was going to bring this to poor Mr. Sydney, he is very low." "What do you mean J .sper, is Mr. Sydney ill ?" " Did you no hear that afore ? " said the gardener in a tone of surprise, " he's been sick for many a long day, last week they would na' let anybody see him. I may gio ye the flowers, maybe he's dead now, or so low that he would 'na heed them." Ruby almost snatched the flowers from Jasper's hand, and fled down through the broad green garden walks out by the postcTn gate, on the road leading to the upper town, ere the old man had recovered from his surprise. " I have made a bad morning's work, I fear," said Jasper, as he watched from the postern door to which he had followed her. Ruby's slight figure almost flying along the road leading to the upper town, "its my thought she would rather yon bonny lad that's dying, in the grey stone house up there, than all the fine folks she'll ever meet in London. If my Lord gets wit she's been there, and who telled lier the lad was sick, it'll cost me my ?l^ i, yi •' ■ ; ■ = ( Ki;; : 1 I V: i ; 4' at] I I w 56 THE HOLY STONE. place, an it winna be easy for me to work for another, now at I've been *:hirty years my own master at Seymore Castle." Ruby gave a slight tap with the muffled knocker on the door of the house Ethel had pointed out to her, (on the evening that now seemed so long ago), as the one in which Herbert Sydney lived, the door was almost in- stantly opened by a tidy young girl in a snow white cap and apron. " Is Mrs. Sydney at home ? — is Mr. Sydney better ? — I mean is Mis. Sydney up yet ? " said Ruby hur- riedly, scarcely knowing what she said. •' Yes Ma'am, r>he's up long ago, and Mr. Sydney is much better. Wili you come in ? " Ruby was shewn into a parlor, the walls of which, agitated as she was, she could not help observing, were covered with paintings that seemed to be the work of Ita- lian artists ; the whole room bearing the unmistakeable impress that it was the residence of persons in the same rank of life as herself, although circumstances obliged them to live in this small grey stone house. A lady dressed in black, whom Ruby knew to be Herbert's mother, entered from an inner apartment, clos- ing the door noiselessly after her, and approached Ruby with a smile she could not have worn if her son were in danger of death. " I came to ask how Mr. Sydney is, and brought him those flowers, I am going away at ten o'clock, and oh ! I wish so much to see him," said Ruby standing up, speak- ing nervously and clasping her hands together with the flowers held between them. THE HOLY STONE. 57 " Sit down, my child," replied Mrs. Sydney, you seem agitated ; Herbert is much better, but scarcely in a fit state to see any one. May I ask your name ? One of his pupils I presume, so many come to ask for him that I am occasionally unable to remember the names I should wish most to recollect." " I am Ruby Seymore, I never came before, but oh ! I do wish so to see him just once." The clasped hands were raised as she spoke, the violet eyes looking so pleadingly and with such a piteous ex- pression into the lady's eyes, the fair face so wan and wax-like, was eloquence itself. Mrs. Sydney was won as all others were by the beautiful eyes. " Compose yourself. Miss Seymore, I will take the flowers to Herbert, I know he will prize them. I cannot promise that you shall see him, he has been very ill — ill nigh unto death, and this is the first time he has left his bed for weeks. During the last few days he has been improving, and this morning he begged so hard to put on his dressing gown and be wheeled into the sitting room, that I consented ; you can understand how im- portant it is that he should see no one except his atten- dants and myself, I only yielded to his moving at this early hour because of his restlessness, and seeing a stranger, would be sure to increase it." Ruby did not understand ; she knew that every day from the one on which she saw Herbert Sydney among the flower beds, she grew better, it seemed as if she had drunk new life from his words, from his touch, and a feeling, she would not acknowledge even to herself, arose in her heart, saying, "It may be so with him, were Pi 1 1 1- - t m ^r" 58 THE HOLY STONE. I to touch him once, he might feel my touch giving him life, as his touch once gave life to me. Mrs. Sydney took the flowers from Ruby's hands, and going into the inner room, returned in a second or two as noi.se!>.\ssly as she had at first entered, this time how- ev'er leaving the door opened. Ruby stood watching every motion of Mrs. Sydney's figure, each expression of her face as she came forwanl, with an intensity of feeling in her dark eyes and crim- son lips that said more to forward her cause than any spoken words could do. " My son is fast asleep, come with me, you shall see him and place the flowers yourself in his lap, he will see them immediately on awaking, and shall be told who brought them." Ruby followed Mrs. Sydney into the inner room, one exactly like the first. A low fire was in the grate, in front of which sat Herbert Sydney asleep in a reclining chair, the light coming in softened through thin green silk blinds over which the lace window curtains fell in light drapery to the floor. His head lay on the back of the chair, its healthy olive hue almost turned to white, the blue veins distinctly to be seen in his forehead from which his brown hair had been pushed back. Ruby stood close to his chair looking down on the pallid face, to which the only relief was afl"orded by the dark eye-lashes that lay like a thick fringe on his marble cheek. Herbert Sydney had himself taught her of the wondrous power we sometimes hear ascribed to magnet- ism, and a feeling possessed her, as if by her touch she could heal him. The impulse to take one of his thin I I I THE IIOLV STONE. 59 white hands in her own, was almost irresistible. Raising her eyes to Mrs. Sydney's face she was about to whisper a request to be allowed to do so, when a loud voice speak- ing at the hall door, replied to by vehement whispers as if of one trying to enforce silence, struck with a harsh jarring noise on the ear amid the hush and quiet of the .sick room. Mrs. Sydney motioned Ruby to remain beside the invalid, and leaving the room, softly shut the door. With jut an instant given to thought, Ruby leant down over the face of the sleeping lad and pressed her warm full lips to his thin wan cheek. •• Ruby, darling Ruby ! " in a moment the boy's arms were around her neck keeping her face down to his own. " Ruby ! it was my guardian angel who sent you here, I can die now. I have wanted so much all these weary months to tell you how I have loved you, better far than my own life," the feeble lad here stopped, exhausted. " I too love you better than any one in the world," rcf)licd Ruby, her eyes telling him that her words were truLii itself, "papa came yesterday to take me away with him to London, I did so wish every day of this long winter to see you, and when Jasper told me this morning that you were ill, nothing could keep me from coming." The faintness passed oft", he took both her hands in his. " Ruby, if I die, I will love you when I lie in my grave, will you sometimes come there, and sit upon the green sod which covers me ? " " If you die, — I will sit and weep beside your grave, — till I am blind, — until they lay me down in the earth — ;, (, -.1^ ]i i^Nl i I i ^ ■' 1 i 1 r i , t I ■ I 1 6o THE HOLY STONE. i 1 i , I : 1 1 '■.!■ by your side." Ruby spoke these detached sentences in subdued tones ; her voice choked with sobs impossible to suppress. The boy drew her face down to his own ; and pressed his lips to her soft cheek, he seemed to have drawn new life from her fresh young face, he felt strong and well again, and his voice sounded clear as it did in the old time as he answered, " Ruby, if I live, for your dear sake, I will make myself a name as honoured as the one your father was born to, I will win money to place you in a home as grand as Seymore Castle. If I do this, will you be my wife ? Will you give me ten years of grace, ten years in which to win a name that will warrant me in seeking you for my wife ? Ruby, are you willing to wait for me ten years ? " I will wait for you, all the years, all the days of my life." *^No, Ruby ! If at the end of ten years I do not come to claim your hand, be sure that I am sleeping in some distant grave, alive or dead, my love for you will be as fresh then as now, if the dead are permitted to revisit this earth I will never be far from you, and if not, in my far away spirit home I will never cease to think of you, no change can make me resign the love, which since I knew it, has made all the music of my life. I never feel the fresh breeze fan my cheek, see the daisy blossom, or hear the linnet sing, that my heart has not revealings of you in your castle home. Merely putting off the flesh can.^ot change all this, it has become my very being. If ten years pass and I do not come, believe that I am watching you from those blue heavens, and that my THE HOLY STONE. 6i spirit freed from earthly dross, will love for your dear sake, those who form your happiness. Ruby, you will wait ? " J " When I am free to do as my heart desires, I promise you by the honour of a Seymore I will marry you ; I will wait for you all the years of my life." " Darling Ruby, I will trust to your honour. When I have accomplished all I say, I will claim you from your father, — until then " — The door opened — Mrs. Sydney entered ; " You are awake, Herbert, I hope you have not been exerting yourself." " If I have, my dear mother, I feel better than I hav« felt for months past." Half an hour later, Ruby sat in her own chamber, thinking with flushed cheek and beating heart of all that had passed in the previous hour, and wondering at the change which had been wrought in herself. At six o'clock that morning she was languid, waver- ing, infirm of purpose ; now she possessed a will and heart so strong she knew they could not fail her. ! t ! I I ' ! ! ! f I' ^ . ■ tl M-il !' M ri V-r?g ^^ i ■ . 1 1 r w CHAPTER VII. NATHAN THE SEEKER. THE way he had come was long and weary. It was late, the night was dark and cold, and, although the traveller was hardly past middle age, yet he was well nigh exhausted as he approached the walls of old Grenada, searching amid the darkness for the Vega gate, the one at which he knew he could at once gain admittance. Its guardian was always a Hebrew, not known to be a Hebrew, it is true, by the Spaniards, in whose hands his appointment lay, yet nevertheless most surely a Hebrew of the Hebrews. Ever since the expulsion of the Jews under Ferdinand and Isabella from their beloved city of Grenada, no less dear to them than to the Moors who left the beautiful Alhambra, an undying monument of their abode there, the Hebrew has silently but surely been re-gaining his foothold in the city of Grenada, establishing there an abiding place. He builds no house for himself in the land of the stranger, save one in which to worship the God, who to them alone of all the tribes of the earth, hath manifested Himself by a visible presence. But the Hebrew hath in Grenada great store of gold, and precious stones of almost fabulous value, parchments which the wisest scribe among the Gentile nations can- not read ; parchments priceless to the children of the 62 if • ( • THE HOLY STONE. 63 promise. All, — gold, and gems, and sacred writings, stored in secret places where none but the initiated can find them, kept in safe guardianship until the day, so long promised, shall break in the East, its light shine even unto the uttermost ends of the Earth, and the command shall go forth, — " Israel shall return to their beloved land, and the Lord will once more be the strength of His people." " Egypt shall be a desolation, — Edom a wil- derness, — but Judah shall dwell forever, Jerusalem from generation to generation ; the Hebrew shall dwell before the Lord in Zion ! " The Vega gate is reached, the sign is given to its Hebrew guardian that tells him one of his own people is without, in the darkness and the cold. The ponderous key is turned in the lock, the heavy iron bolts withdrawn. " Enter, my Brother, peace be unto thee," are the words the traveller hears as he enters among the abodes of men. He replies with solemn air, " The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob bless thee." " Whence comest thou ? " " From distant Britain." " Rest thee, I pray, my Brother, and let me wash thy feet, and give thee to eat a savory morsel such as is not often within this poor house to offer." " Nay, my Brother, time presses, I must be with the Rabbi Abraham long ere the day dawns. Fare-thee-well." " Fare-thee-well," responded the guardian of the Vega •rate, as he looked after the retreating figure of the tra- veller which was soon lost in the darkness of the silent strefct, the lamps which were meant to light it being placed at such a distance from each other, and the light ' i I i il ';! ! f i :• i ! f J i i F r M TIIK IIOI.^' STONV;. they cniittcti st> faint, that thoy only served to deepen the f;lootn, as llie li^;ht ot the jjjlow-worni iii tlie swamp or forest. •* If mv eves deceive nie not, that nian is NaTMAN TIIK Sl.l'.KlK ; it is twenty years since he was here last, ] wonder how he lias sped ; no doubt like all his prede- cessors hearil nothitip; of the stone ; while we poor nicii must j;ive of our sul)stance to support him." So solilo- qui/eil David, the keeper of the Ve^^a ^;ate, as he rc- placeil its heavy bars, and sou|.^ht the shelter of the t;ati liouse. The tiaveller walkeil on v. ith slow and weary step, ho w.xs sure >)f his way now, but the streets were rou^;h and harde» to tread than the coruitiy roads outside the ^atc, and the man was ftnUsore and worn with lonj^ walkni};. lie had still a l'.>n^ line of streets to traversr ere he could reach the resiilc»ice of the Kabbi Abraham which he sought. He had been once in Cirenada before, then only for a day and night, once only at the house of the Rabbi ; then he had found the place by the written directions he hail with him now ; then, as now, he had been strictly forbidilen to ask his way or to tell to any man save one of his own Tribe (with whom it was scarce- ly possible he could meet) that the Rabbi Abraham dwelt in the city of Grenada. He could not consult his directions, the night was too dark, and just under the lamps where he could see, he would have to brave the chance of encountering one of the sentinels who were always to be found when their services were not wanted, and were never within hearing when there was robbery or murder abroad. Should his Tiir: imiv si mm,. «5 uriltcn direct ions bt* sr<*n by oiu* of these ineii he would he .nrested as an iiisti^;ator of revoh. and his (to (lenlile eyes) nnreadal)l<* itiiurary, construid into rebellions do- (innents, eonnivin^ at, or jilottin^, the assassination of some one in power. ill- had tonned iiis lesson well several times durinj.^ the past week, and he had hi-, (»wn reeollcction of tin; road he had traversed twenty )'«ars b«Tore to aid him now ; heiiee there woidd be little difhcnity if any, in Imdiiij^^ the house he sou}.;ht in the stn;ets of (Irenad;'. The cities of Sjiain have. la}.jj;ed sadly ;; ]dnd those of other I'.uropi'an countries i?i tin* wonderful march of j)ro- nress which has distin|.;uished the tiineteeiith century ; and have un(ler!.;one little rir no change, eitJK.T it) the (iis|)osition of their streets, or in the architecture of their hiiildin^^s, for the last thre<' Inmdred years. lie was now in tlu- street belon^ini; to the Kabbi ; yt.-s, every house ill that street by whatsoever nanur its owner was known Ixlonj^'ed by niort}^a^:;e t<» the Jewisli K.ibbi, and their iiiliabit.ints couUI be tinned out, and the houses them- scKis r.i/.ed to the f^round at his word. Wondrous power, — unseen,— unknown, lik>,' the snow fallin^j silently to the larth, yet coverifi^ with a thick mantle every llowir and herb it falleth. > n, so doth the power of the Hebrew extend over t^r)( llie city of (irenada. I le had counted tinje tens of houses the Rabbi's house should |)c the seventh house of the fourth ten. I la I lliere is the door with tlie sij^n upon it, known to every Hebrew, unnoticed by, unknown to the (iet.tile. /\ siii'^Ie rap sufficcth even at this late hour to briji^^a reatly response. ' I' Pfl' Ml W 66 Tin: lioLV STONt:. " Who knocks so late ? " is asked in the Spanish tongue. The answer is given by one word in Hebrew. There- are bolts to be withdrawn, and locks to be opened in the Rabbi's house, as at the Vega Gate, both are done and the traveller is admitted into a dingy half lit vestibule, lofty and wide, but unfurnished save by a great clock, the brass pendulum of which sways backwards and for- wards, its broad moonlike face gleaming through the glass door of the case, a table on which lay several parcels, and a l:i»ge leather covered arm-chair, where sat a porter day and night, relieved, like a sentinel, twice in the twenty- four hours. The traveller sat down in the leather chair, drawing a deep breath as he did so, he closed his eyes for a second or two, and remained silent, an outstretched hand on each knee, his whole figure and bearing betokening the fatigue he felt. ** You are worn out, you need sleep and rest," said the porter, **come with me I w'll shew you where you can repose your wearied limbs and wash your waysore feet." ** Nay," replied the traveller, " I must do neither until 1 have seen the Rabbi, and delivered to hi?n my errand. Is he abed ? " " lie is not abed, but I doubt much your seeing him to-night, the Rabbi sees no one, be they lord or hind, after the clock has told the tenth hour, it is now almost midnight," said the porter pointing to the large steel face of the clock as he spoke. '• 1 am neither lord nor hind, i)rince nor peasant, but the Rabbi Abraham will see me," replied the traveller "^^■^ THE HOLY STONE. 67 taking from his finger as he spoke a thick copper ring, on the flat top of which were engraved some characters in ancient Hebrew, which he gave to the porter, desiring liini to car*-)' it to the Rabbi. The man took the ring, the characters engraved on the top of which he vainly tried to decipher. " What words are these ? " inquired he, holding the ring up to the dim lamp which hung on the wall beside the clock, and knitting his brows as if it were the poor- ness of the light which presented him from reading the Hebrew words. " If I know I may not tell," replied the traveller, *^e Kabbi Abraham knows such things well, when you give liini the ring, you c?\n ask him their meaning." I he porter turned and looked at. the stranger's face, as if stirred by some feeling made up of surprise and i'-''; (nation. ' ]>o you think me mad?" inquired he, "You have never spoken to the Rabbi Abraham, never seen him, or you would not give me such counsel, you had better keep your old copper ring until to-morrow, and present it to the Rabbi yourself, it is too late for me to disturb him to-night." "Late as it is you must gi\e him that ring, if you (lelay doing so till the morrow it may cost you your place, you need say nothing, only lay the ring on the table beside him and await his orders, he will tell you, I doubt not, to shew me at once into his presence." " Well," with a cynical smile, ** to cure your presump- tion, I will take the ring and lay it by the Rabbi's book as he reads, he will look me in the face and say nothing, ! 1 M t.n m |! 1 I 1 i .11! ; 1 68 THE HOLY STONE. I !' I his look will mean, ' begone, trouble me not,' I will obey and come back to tell you that you nust wait until to- morrow's sun lights up the sky before you can see or speak to the Rabbi ^Vbraham. I do not believe there's a man in Europe he would see at this late hour unless, indeed, it were 'N ATI IAN THE SEEKER,' and I hope you don't pretend to be he." " I pretend to nothing, I pray thee do mine errand," said the traveller wearily, closing his eyes and leaning back in the leather chair as he had done at his entrance. The porter took the ring, and going up two flights of dimiy lighted stairs to the Rabbi's study, tapped lightly on the door, and entering, without waiting for a com- mand to do so, advanced to where the Rabbi Abraham sat at a table covered with scarlet cloth, reading a long roll of time-stained manuscript, three wax tapers in silver stands being placed at each side of the parchment. The Rabbi did not appear to notice the entrance of the porter, and it was only when the latter laid the ring or. the scarlet cloth beside the parchment, that the High Triest seemed aware of his presence. Imme iiately as his eyes fell on the ring, he lifted it up, exc'aiming in more hurried tones than he was wont to use ; *' Where did you get this? — Who gave it you? — Where is the man who brought it ? " The porter was completely taken aback ; in his ten years service he had never until now seen the Rabbi's eye flash as it did, had never heard him speak but in slew measured tones. " The man is in the vestibule, and " — Jk'fore the porter could finish the sentence, the Rabbi THE HOLY STONK. 69 had taken one of the lip^hted tapers from the table, and was gone from the room, downstairs, on his way to the travel-soiled stranger. The man stared after his master in mute surprise ; recovering himself quickly however, prompted by a stronger feeling, a feeling of curiosity to know who the stranger could be, who, coming to the house in the night, meanly dressed, without attenuants or even a mule, could so move the Rabbi by the mere sight of the copper ring he wore, as to make him act in a way contrary to all the j)recedcnt of the ten past years. The tall commanding figure of the High Priest, his black flowing robe, the small velvet cap keeping down uithcr than covering the silver gray locks which fell in soft wavy folds on his neck, his long white beard, — the iJL^lited taper in his hand as he descended the staircase, ! irmed a picture, such as had not met the traveller's eye ince he left Grenada twenty years before. He rose to meet the Rabbi ; the latter, putting the taper on the table, cla. ped the traveller to his bosom, av he exclaimed with inexpressib'c emotion, " Xathan, my Brother Nathan." i'\)r a few minutes neither spoke. The traveller, among his own people, and hearing his own name, for llic first time for twenty years, pronounced with such nianife: t affection by one who, before Nathan was born, had gained the reverence of all his people, the highest iionor they had to bestow ; sobbed aloud ; " My father, give me thy blessing ! " riie Rabbi raised himself up to his full height. " My son hast thou brought me tidings of the ' Stone ?* '* ' IK ll.i 70 THE HOLY STONE. " Yea, good tidings. The time is not far distant when it will pass into the hands of a woman ; she is now in her twentieth year." " You know then where the ' Stone ' is, who is its pos- sessor ? " " I do, my Father, I have sat and talked with the man who has it, as a man speaketh to his friend." The Hebrew High Priest raised his hands and eyes to Heaven, his lips moved in silent prayer for a second or two, and then laying his hands on the head of Nathan with his eyes still raised, he said in low deep measured tones ; " The Lord God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob bless thee, God give thee of the dew of Heaven, of the fullness of the earth, of corn and of wine." The blessing was given ; Nathan knelt in silent prayer, the High Priest stood with hand.- and eyes raised to Heaven, his soul lifted up in praise to the God of Israel, — to Him whom the Rabbi Abraham and his fathers have served from the beginning of time, from generation, to generation. The porter stood in silent awe until the men whom he considered as the holy of the earth had each finished his devotions, wondering to himself at what he had that night seen and heard. '* Go," said the Rabbi, addressing the porter, " and arouse the young men," bid one of them ])repare a bath and fresh raiment ; another, the guest chamber ,vhicli the Rabbi Micha occupies when he honors Grenaihi with his presence ; another to spread a table in my sitting THE HOr.Y STONE. 71 room, with the choicest viands and wine the house affords." " Nay, my Father," said the traveller " there must be no food spread for me until morning at the seventh hour ; I am a Pharisee and have a vow ; I break not my fast before that time ; I shall then have fasted forty hours, the last twelve of which I have passed without rest, that I might see my Lord and receive the blessing ere the first hour of the day. I have seen thy face, the blessing is mine." Pointing to the broad disk of the clock which now shewed the hour to be past one in the morning, he con- tinued, " Lo ! the new day has already begun to run its course, yesterday has gone, with the joys and sorrows men have borne through it, to aid in filling the number, which shall make up time." l^re Nathan ceased speaking, two young men were in attendance. " Go, my son," said the Rabbi, ** wash and rest, at the seventh hour we will break our fast together. I will then hear what thou hast to tell me of the ' Stone.' May the .ingcl Raphael guard thy pillow." Nathan made a low obeisance to the High Priest, and following the young men, was conducted to a bath around which were spread all the luxuries of the East, the bath itself of the choicest porcelain, filled with filtered rose water ; the air heavy with perfume. His bath over, the traveller arrayed in a soft white night-dress of the wool of Cashmere, was led to a large and lofty bed-chamber, such .as he, accustomed as he was to visit the richest men in Plurope, had never before en- ■ I ■ i j i il r ; > ihil 72 THE HOLY STONE. tered. A bed of ivory inlaid with gold, the purple velvet canopy and curtains of which were fringed and looped with the same precious metal, occupied the centre of the room. At one end, the wall was covered with pictures of enormous value by the first Italian masters ; cabinets from China and India filled with curiosities in gold and gems, together with rare sculpture, soft fauteuils and otto- mans, a velvet carpet in which the foot sunk, and costly mirrors, made up the rest of the luxury around. While over all fell in soft rays the light from wax tapers, placed in a gold chandelier, shaded by rose colored porcelain globes, the pendants and knotted crystal cords of which gave back the soft rays from their thousand facets. Soft eider down quilts of white satin, bed linen of cob-web like cambric, helped to complete the couch, on which re- posed the wearied limbs of the wayfarer, that a few hours before were battling with the cold wind on the bare hills of Spain. When the traveller arose next morning and surveyed his strong athletic form and sunbrowned face, in one of the mirrors of his chamber, he could not help asking himself ; " Is this the same worn-out bent old man I saw in the peasant's door glass last night ten miles from the city of Grenada ? — I have seen the Rabbi, — received my re- ward for twenty years hard service in the cause of our nation, — the blessing is mine, — my body has been re- freshed r)y \vater and rest, the worn way-faring man seeking shelter for the night has become once more, 'Nathan thk Skkkkk.'" " Peace be unto thee, Nathan, my son," was the saluta- THK IIOI.V STOXE, 73 tion of the Rabbi as the traveller entered the breakfast room at the appointed hour. Nathan answert d suitably, and the attendants busied themselves in serving breakfast, which in its appoint- ments and manner of serving, accorded with the chamber in which the traveller had slept. Not-withstanding his long fast, Nathan ate sparingly, confining himself amid the delicacies by which he was surrounded, to coffee, toasted bread, and goat's-milk cheese. The meal over, they adjourned to the apartment where we first saw the K.'ibbi. Seated there, the traveller unbidden commenced his narrative, "You will be surprised to learn that for ten years I have known by whom tlie ' Stone ' is held in possession ; you will think I ought at once, on making the important discovery, have come to tell the glad tidings, and I should have done so, but that I was in hopes from year to year, to be able to bring the precious gem with me ; and to place it in your hands. How often during those ten years, have I pleased myself by fancying the glad ex- pression which would light up your countenance, as your eye fell for the first time on the words engraved by the Angel's pen ; words, which so many of our tribe know so well, and yet have never seen ; words, which even now when we know where to find the gem, the present generation may pass from earth without beholding. According to my instructions, I proceeded first to Rome, where, assuming the monastic habit, I soon, through my knowledge of Eastern languages, and my intimate ac- (juaintancc with our own tongue and holy writings, ob- tained a position in the Vatican. This at once put it in hi ' 74 THE HOLY STONE. my power to search for some sign, by word or otherwise, from which I could discover if the ' Stone' had become the property of the Catholic Church. My search was useless, I laboured day and night, allowing myself only four hours of sleep, that I might in some favored hour fall upon the manuscript which would teach me where the Relic lay. I knew that if it had once fallen into the hands of the Roman Pontiff, it would be placed in safe keeping. My labour was in vain ; after ten years spent in this way I knew that all my work in Rome had been, like that of my brethren em- ployed in the same cause for over eleven centuries, even as water spilt on the ground. Arrived at this conclusion, according to the itinerary given me I bent my steps to England, determined if need be, for the next ten years to spend my time in examin- ing the archives contained in Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, the Record Office, in short, wherever old manuscripts were to be found. By the help of our brother. Baron de Schwartzkind, I obtained leave to ex- amine the parchments belonging to the capitular body of Westminster Abbey, where I had decided my first search in England should be made. The Angel Raphael must surely have accompanied me to England, even as he went with Tobias to Rages. For months my labour availed me nothing, and I was about giving up the search as hopeless, when one morning, among a parcel of useless rubbish, relating to the expenses of an old monastery, appeared the parchment I had sought in vain for so many years. A manuscript in the peculiar Latin of the old Saxons, written by a monk called Wolfgang, THE HOLY STONE. 75 in which he gives a vivid description of the * Stone' as it was found upon the dead body of a priest of Rome called Paul ; then follows an extract taken from an older manuscript, also describing the ' Stone/ and giving the Hebrew legend written by the Angel, the whole signed by Wolfgang, the Abbot above mentioned. Attached to the manuscript is one of later date, but written by the same scribe, stating that, on the night of the day on which the 'Stone' was found, it was carried by the Abbot Wolfgang, to the Queen of Sebert, then King of Essex, thus fulfilling the first part of the prophecy, '• It came with a woman. " With the help of the Angel it may be my fortune to fulfil the last part, " It must go with a woman ! " As he finished speaking Nathan laid the copy he had made from the parchment before the Rabbi, which the latter carefully examined. " Yes," said the High Priest, still holding the document in his hand and examining it, "this is certainly a faithful copy of the Heb-ew manuscript ; this is a description of tile ' Stone ' by one who must have looked upon it while he wrote." " How could the ' Stone ' have fallen into the hands of Paul, a Christian and a priest ? " asked Nathan. The thin cheek of the Rabbi crimsoned, and his eye flashed as if with both anger and shame, while he an- swered. " Paul must have been Abraham of Athens, a Hebrew of the Hebrews, the learned man of his Tribe, — whom all Israel held in reverence, — who chose earth for b:s portion and the Nazarene for his God ! Abraham of Athens was descended in a direct line from Tobias ; IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I IIM 112.5 IIIM 12.2 110 nil 20_ 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 << 6" — ► / <^ n VI <$> m o w /A v/M Photographic Sciences Corporation 93 WIST MAIN STRKRT WiBSTIR.N.Y 14S80 (716) 875-4503 A \ Im ' ^I 76 THE HOLY STONE. if it is as I think, then is the mystery of the ' Stone s ' dis- appearance ::olved. I pray thee proceed with thy nar- rative. " " What I had now to do was to find the descendants of Sebert, King of Essex, to whom the ' Stone ' was given ; this I feared would prove another stumbling block in the line of search. At the Norman conquest of Britain not many of the old Saxon families were allowed to hold their own ; few now remain who are able to trace their descent from the old Saxons; but among these are the Seymores of Seymore Castle, who by a wise submission to the power of William, and a trans- formation of their name from Sebert to the Norman, one of Seymore, saved their lands and gold from the con- queror's grasp. That the possession of the ' Stone ' was the mystic cause of this, there can be no doubt. When I had traced the family, I set myself to work to discover if any tradition pointed to their possession of the * Stone,' or if it had pas: id from their hands in time of need, sold ns a bauble for its supposed worth in gold. I early found that the family had never been poor, but that the estate they now possess, was only a tithe of the lands they held in the old Saxon time. I also found that until the present representative of the family became Lord of Seymore, there had been an unbroken line of sons, born to the house, but that the first and only child of the present lord was a daughter ! to that daughter the ' Stone * must go ! " •• I am not sure that must follow," said the Rabbi. •' The mere fact of her being born heir, may be sufficient to fulfil the prophecy, ' It must go with a woman,' T will THE HOLY STONE. 77 study this well, it may mean because of a woman. How did you find out that the ' Stone ' is still in their hands ?" "This was the most difficult point to ascertain, and cost me ten years of time, labour and thou<^ht. I at first tried to get an introduction to the Baron ; this was not accomplished without considerable trouble, he was a man who since the death of his wife, ten years previous to my ^oing to England, had shut himself up entirely from the world, I found it impossible in any way to gain a foot- ing in his family, he would cultivate the acquaintance of no one. I could see no more of him, than I saw during the time occupied by him in reading the introductory letter I presented to him. His reception of me was cour- teous, that was all, his eye and bearing after a little time told me plainly, my presence was obtrusive. Among the neighbouring gentry I found out, that there was in the Scymore family, what they denominated a talisman, a precious jewel, which was believed to hold a magic in- fluence in saving the wearer from evil. I found one old man who had been favoured by obtaining a sight of this talisman, and who described it exactly as I should expect an unlearned man to describe the ' Stone.' It was shewn to him by the father of the present Baron, upwards of fifty years ago on the occasion of his son Godfrey's birth. I was at my wit's end. I had been occupied for ) ears finding out what I have now told you, when one day I fell \\y with one of our Tribe who is in high power in England, I entrusted him with the secret, told him I was ' The Seeker,' and of my success, adding, " There it must stop, I cannot by any means gain ad- mittance to this man." f ,. '1! \\ ll-ff 7^ THE HOLY STONE. " Have patience," said he, " I will find out a way by which you will be associated together." " How is this possible ? " I inquired. " No money could tempt the melancholy man who lives in the past, to leave his old castle and mix among other men." " What money cannot do, power may, aided by the ambition inherent in the breast of every Englishman," replied my friend. " He argued rightly, he knew the weak points of the race among whom he was born and bred. Six years ago I was appointed one of the keepers of the records in the Tower of London, a month afterwards an old and palsied man, high in office died, and Lord Seymore was appoint- ed in his place. At first he was very unapproachable, but * constant dropping wcareth away stone,' so it was with Lord Seymore, it took four years to establish an intimacy with him, but I conquered at last. He would fain be a chemist ; what was wonder and mystery to him, was child's play to me, in England the science is yet in its infancy, its early morning ; in Paris and Germany where I studied, it has attained to at least its noon-day. I shewed him the solution ot marvels, which he had considered himself as incapable of attaining, — the gulf is spanned, we are firm friends. I told him the story of the ' Stone ' down to its falling into the hands of the Gentile Queen. He heard mc with an appearance of interest, his face be- traying that it was not for the first time. I told him of the prophecy, his agitation would have been visible to a child, great drops of sweat stood on his brow and around his mouth, as if he had travelled fast and far on a sunny w^ THE HOLY STONE. 79 day in June. I needed no more, I knew Lord Seymore possessed the * Raphael Stone.' "And now," said the Rabbi, "how is it to be ob- tained ? " " That it will never be got from Lord Seymore I am certain. He does not wear it, that I have ascertained beyond doubt ; that he knows its value, and will pre- serve it as sacredly as he preserves his honor, I am as sure of, as if it were written on the tables of stone God gave unto Moses on Sinai. All that can now be done is to wait until the appointed time is come, when it will pass into the hands of a woman. Lord Seymore is at least fifty years old, in fifty more, at most, it tnust be his daughter's, — the ' Stone ' will be ours, — the prophecy fulfilled. I grieve that it should take so long, if it is so, I must forego the honor of bringing it to my Tribe, I shall long ere then have been gathered to my fathers." '• Not every one who runneth gaineth the goal, but he who persevereth to the end. Your work is half done my son, this is the first time for more than a thousanc years that we have known where the ' Stone ' is, we must not wait for the fulfillment of a prophecy, which it may be, we do not understand, by the time Lord Seymore is gathered to his fathers he may have a grand-son, his daughter dead, where will the prophecy then be ? No, we live in the present, here in the present is our duty. In whatever way the ' Stone ' is found, and from whom it is taken, the prophecy standeth fast and sure, we leave the fulfilment of it to a Higher power." " My father, I have been lo g convinced that any at- tempt to possess the ' Stone ' in the Tower of London ■■:S* .8- 1. ! 8o THE HOLY STONE. lilii will be futile. Every wall in the whole building has been a silent witness of cruelty and of bloodshed. It is stain- ed with the blood of women, with the blood of children, the blood of the Kings and Queens of the Gentile, their lords, priests, and people. To such a place the Prince of the Power of the Air has full access, naught can debar his entrance. He who disputed with the Arch- angel Michael for the body of Moses will not penait such an one as I to recover the 'Holy Stone' in that place of blood ! " The High Priest smiled, " Does my brother Nathan believe Satan to be stronger than Israel's God ? " " Nay, n^y Lord, but we know that he and his angels are permitted power on this earth that the children of disobedience may be punished.*' " Satan and his angels have no power at all unless it be given them, it will never be given them to harm thee. My son, go in peace, — keep thy vow, — fulfil thy mission ; — it hath been told me in a dream that by thy hand will the * Stone * be recovered. The God of thy fathers be with thee. Farewell." nrnfTfl M CHAPTER VIII. THE month of May seemed somehow to have an in- fluence on the life of Ruby Seymore ; it was in May she was born, and in May her mother died. In May her father left her at the age of fourteen, before he went, rivetting on her neck the chain to which was ap- pended the * Holy Stone.' In May she was for hours face to face with death, part of the time under the waves of the sea. In May she first listened to the sweet words her girl heart loved so well to hear, which told her, she was the dearest object earth held to one she loved as the best and bravest, one whom her girl's eye told her bore the hand- somest face and form she had ever looked upon. In May she left behind forever the simple life she had led among the forest-trees, — by the sea-girt shore, in Seymore Castle, all she was born heir to, and in May she entered in her seventeenth year, and left, in her twentieth, the happy English school in a pleasant suburb of London, where with four other girls of her own age, she spent three years, the merriest she had known ; un- shadowed by a single cloud. The present, among her girl companions, full of pleasant morning light of opening flowers and of dew, — the future, to which she looked forward, radiant with noon-day brightness ; Herbert Sydney the sun and centre ; her path strewn with red roses and white lilies heavy with perfume. Of all the 8i F ; i ! 82 THE HOLY STONE. 'i \u 1 fair young girls who together sang their morning song of praise, and knelt in prayer at eventide, none had a hap- pier heart or was more free from care than Ruby. Herbert Sydney had promised her he would win her hand with her father's consent, and she believed him with a childlike faith ; she never once thought of the desert sands he must tread with bare and bleeding feet, the rocky mountain heights he must climb unaided, — the deep ravines whose rapid torrents he must stem, the dark waters of which have whelmed so many a brave young ardent heart. No, he had promised, she believed then, in his power being equal to his will, and this thought fornied her happiness. (The time came all too soon when she could look abroad on the world, and reasoning from analogy, feel the bitter truth, that of the hundreds of thousands who press along the upward path to fame, only one in a thousand reaches the pinnacle for which they all so bravely strive. AH along the way lie grassy mounds covering deep dark graves, where the earnest and brave hearts, wearied with the strife, have folded their pale hands meekly on their breasts, and laid them down to rest?\) She came to think oft this* in after years, and to ask herself in the broad noonday, and in the silent midnight, if it would be so with Herbert Sydney, but that time was not yet. It was in May, Ruby entered as its mistress, the hand- some villa residence at Bayswater, which her father h"kd bought and furnished for his darling, and where Ethel and her husband, Colonel Ponsonby, were to be her guests for at least a year. Ethel in her position of a III THE HOLY STONE. 83 '■»;: married woman, doing away with the necessity there would otherwise have been for Lord Seymore residing in the house, a thing*not reconcilable with his duty at the Tower. Their nearest neighbour was the blind Countess of Sydenhault, who, the possessor, of an almost palatial residence at Bayswatcr, with her two sons, Lord Syden- hault and the honorable Mr. Penryth, spent the half of the year there, the other half at Sydenhault Hall. Between the families at Sydenhault Hall and Seymore Castle there had always existed the closest friendship, which was only interrupted by Lord Seymore's desire to indulge his sorrow in solitude. Subsequently trouble came to the family of the Coun- tess which caused them also to seek seclusion. The eldest son who had been abroad for seven years, and was hastily recalled that he might see his father die, and assume his place as the Earl of Sydenhault, returned to his home, ill with a raging fever, from which he arose with weakened intellect to be an unceasing care to his remain- ing parent, whose own infirmity of blindness coming on but too surely year by year, would have made most women helpless. It was not so with the brave hearted Countess, however ; she cared for her stricken son with all a mother's love, never permitting him to be separated from her for a single day, pleasing the half imbecile man by making him fancy that his presence was necessary to her, because of her own infirmity. Ruby's vacations during her residence at St. John's wood had been spent in the Countess of Sydenhault's Villa. These were pleasant days, and marked by much ■A t ■.'.U^ '4i>- ... 84 THE HOLY STONE. >!' I .happiness, one young friend after another had always . been invited as a companion for Ruby, and the blind Countess, accustomed now for nearlj' twenty years to want of sight, drove into town each day, accompanied by her infirm son and her young visitors, that the latter might enjoy the pleasure of seeing all the sights the world of London has to shew. The British Museum was a favorite pl^pe of resort, the blind woman who could with difficulty tell day from night, leading them with most perfect accuracy to each particular room, and the separate pictures or pieces of statuary, she wished them to examine, never for one moment forgetting her poor son, talking to him, ques- tioning, and endeavouring to draw out his dormant intel- lect, as if he were a child, and she hoped at some future day to see him take his place among his fellow-men. During the first visit Ruby paid to the Countess of Sydenhault, her second son was much struck by the fair face, aird sweet simplicity of his mother's guest. Ruby's natural elegance, joined fo the repose and in- nocence of her demeanor having a fascination for him, and acquiring a power over his heart, which none of the beautiful women whom he was accustomed to meet in society had been able to exercise. There were not lacking, daughters of the rich and great among whom he lived, young ladies with blood as blue as his own, lovely faces and large fortunes, who would gladly have been bride to the presumptive heir to the Barony of Syden- hault, with his handsome face and figure, his courtly manners, high birth; and seventy thousand pounds a year in prospective. T\ THE HOLY STONE. 8$ On her subsequent visits the feeling deepened into love, love which seemed ridiculous, owing to the disparity in age between himself and her whom he would fain make his wife. " That little girl with her beautiful face, and her gentle look of maiden modesty," said he to his mother in speak- ing of Ruby shortly after she had left school and become the mistress of her father's villa, " is dangerous society for me, she is the only one I ever saw whom I could wish to make my wife." " Little girl," repeated his mother, " you must certainly not talk in that way of a young lady who has completed her twentieth year. I can fancy she is beautiful, her mother was the loveliest woman I ever saw ; I know she is sweet tempered and far above the little vanities which mark many girls at her age. If she has really awakened an interest in your heart, why do you not consult her father ? If he does not consider you of too mature an age for his daughter, then try to win th6 young lady herself. You have several advantages on your side, one of which is that she must of consequence be fancy free, she has not yet been introduced into society and there- fore probably has never seen any one who could have made an impression on her heart." Mr. Penryth was a man whose selfishness knew no bounds. It never once occured to him that it was very improbable that a girl of twenty years should love a man of forty-five, so that, by becoming his wife she would be made a happy woman, the great question was, how it concerned himself. Ruby's fortune was a small one, Seymore Castle with ji p.l "■^t ■; I ■ ■■ I '■ 86 THE HOLY stone; a few hundred acres of ground and ten thousand pounds. This was nothing in his eyes, he felt certain his brother could not possibly recover, he himself was sole heir to both his father's and his mother's land, consisting of large estates in North Wales, and immense tract of lake, moor and forest in Scotland, and every acre for miles around Sydenhault Hall, except the narrow strip, on which Sey- more Castle was built, running from Sebert forest down to the sea. His rental would be seventy thousand pounds a year, his rank of the highest in England by both birth and place, and Ruby's rank was as elevated and her blood as pure as his own. His mirror told him that both his face and figure were in good preservation, he was not slow in adopting his mother's view of the case, he had little fear of a refusal from Lord Seymore, and many beautiful girls with larger expectations than Miss Sey- more he was sure would be his for the wooing. He thought over the matter for some days, the more he con- sidered it the more natural it seemed, until a few weeks after the above conversation with his mother, he rode to the Tower, and asked Lord Seymore for the hand of his daughter. Now, if any one had been able to read the secrets of Lord Seymore's heart they would there have seen that his dearest object in life, his highest ambition, was that Ruby should become Countess of Sydenhault. In the long ago before he left Seymore Castle, when he would at times look and wonder at the beautiful face, he used to say to himself with a sigh of deep regret, " to what end is all this grace and beauty ? Penryth will be married long before she is grown to womanhood." THE HOLY STONE. 87 From the time Mr. Penryth first became attracted by Ruby's fair face, Lord Seymore had been aware of it. He had not been taken by surprise, he had for the three past years known how it would be, and yet, now that Mr. Penryth had asked his daughter to become his wife the future Countess of Sydenhauh, to be mistress of the land, which ever since the Norman Conquest, had been, acre by acre, mountain, forest, river and wold, leaving the descendants of the old King Sebert and fall- ing into the hands of the Earls of Sydenhault, his heart beat high with triumph, his whole frame trembled with excitement. He thought that now he could see the good of the Talisman ; it is true he had heard of many a n aculous escape which the Borons of Seymore had made from pc-iis by the sea, perils by the s^vord, but what was thai when their wealtii and power were melting piecemeal away from them. Now all would be restored. Ruby would not only be possessed of all the old Sebert lands and wealth, but of more than the Seberts had ever dreamed of. His mind went back to the hour when old Godfrey had brought him the tidings which then seemed to foreshadow the complete extinction of his race. " Be patient my Lord, your child is a daughter," now, he exclaimed in his heart, " Lo ! is she not better to me than ten sons ?" While all this was passing in review before Lord Sey- more, he forgot that Mr. Penryth was waiting beside him unanswered. The suitor was beginning to fear, that the Baron, upon whom he had reckoned as his friend, had other views for his beautiful daughter. f r M i. I '■ ' 88 THE HOLY STONE. h'. ■!■ '-l?f i\i A dignified but cordial response in the affirmative res- tored the lover's peace cf mind. " Have you spoken to Ruby on the subject." " No, I — in fact I considered it proper that you shoiiM give me your leave to do so." " Of course, certainly, you were right ; perhaps it would be the best plan for me to break the matter to Ruby in the first instance myself, she is very young. Lord Seymore had his misgivings as to what Ruby's ideas on the subject might be. He had not forgotteti the story of " The schoolmaster " as he was pleased to call Herbert Sydney. " Very young," repeated Mr. Penryth, " certainly, I should not think of marrying an old woman." Mr. Penryth fancied that Lord Seymore in alluding to his daughter's age had some reference to the discre- pancy there would be in that respect between them ; he did not like to be thought old, he was in good preserva- tion, few men looked so well at forty as he looked at forty- five, his valet told him he did not look more than thirty and he believed him ; he had feared Ruby would object (in her heart) to his age, but it was odious to hear any allusion to it from her father. Lord Seymore could read what was passing in Mr. Penryth's mind as easily as the letters in a printed book ; and he replied, with a reas- suring smile, — " I should hope not, with your rent roll, such a pro- ceeding would be simply folly ; nor is it Ruby's age in years which makes it best that I should break the, sub- ject of marriage to her; but the nun-like life she has led, first in Seymore Castle, then at school where, from THE HOLY STONE. 8^ having lost her mother, I was obliged to place her, and from which she has only, so to speak, just made h'6t escape." •'It is this very simplicity of character, this retiring maiden modesty which, in my eyes, forms her chief attrac- tion," replied the lover, "nor do I think, fancy free a^ she must be, that it is at all likely she will dispute youff wishes in her choice of a husband. I coincide entirely* with you, in thinking it best you should inform Miss Seymore what your sentiments are, before I make proJ posals to herself in form." " I will ride out to Bayswater and speak to Ruby to- day on the subject," said Lord Seymore, " but," added he, — thoughts of "The schoolmaster" obtruding them-- selves, — "do not forget that there is a certain amount cff wooing, which must be done." The Baron's heart smote him as he spoke, he thought of days long gone by, and of fair Rosamond Percy, how sure he was of her an- swer ; how troubled lest her father should look for a richer bridegroom for his child. Now the case was res- versed, lands and gold in abundance ; but what young girl ever appreciated these ? Alas ! the very quality that made Ruby so loved and loving, was, that in every rela* tion of life she ignored such things, valued them at their true worth, to her, the priceless human heart was far above rank or state, lands or gold. Lord Seymore rode over to Bayswater with his future son-in-law, parting with him at the villa gate with a hearty shake of the hand, which shewed Mr. Penryth more clearly than any v\ ords could have done that he was Lord Seymore's choice. l ■ \ i i '; j I ■ i ■ r ■ \\ r i (-■ I i a I'; 90 THE HOLY STONE. Ruby was happy to see her father, he had been very busy lately, and she had not seen him for the past week. He did not like her to come to the Tower ; he saw too plainly that she possessed the sensitive, nervous tem- perament of her mother, and the Tower of London with its associations of bloodshed and crime, of broken hearts, of the young and fair and brave, who had perished there on the scaffold, or withered day by day in its dun- geons, was the very worst place she could enter, the memory of which might cling to her, and haunt her dreams for years. Hence she could only see her father when he came to visit her at Bays water. " I am so glad you came to-day papa, Ethel and Co- lonel Ponsonby have gone to drive, and I shall have you all to myself to show you the improvements I have made. Come first into the conservatory, I have got all my birds there, and all the old fashioned flowers we used to love so much at Seymore, and out on the lawn, quaint old beds like those at home, such quantities of lily of the valley, wall flowers and great red roses. " I will, by and bye, at present I wish to speak to you on the subject which brought me out to Bayswater to-day. Sit down by me, Ruby." Lord Seymore took his child's hand and made her sit by him, so that he could see and read her countenance. Now that he was looking on her fair sweet face, his former misgivings came all back with sevenfold force, her quiet, girlish innocence, her love for her birds and flowers were all ini- mical to a wish to be the future Countess of Sydenhault, with a Lord twenty-five years older than herself. The very simplicity of her dress, a plain white muslin, seem- THE HOLY STONE. 91 ed, trifle as it was, to militate against the cause he would fain have had her look upon with his own eyes. And that handsome tutor, how he hated him, he determined to lay his views before her at once, to give her no chance of thinking otherwise, than in accordance with his opinion, but, by a grand coup-dc-main, to convince her she was the most fortunate girl in England. " Ruby ! this has been one of the happiest days of my life. I have had an interview with a dear and valued young friend," (young stuck a little in his throat, but he choked it down with the thought, he is five years younger than I am, and he looks fifteen, my hair is grey, my face full of lines of care, his hair is crisp and black, his skin smooth,) he continued, " one of a long line of ancestry, with riches and lands that might win him a duke's daughter, a handsome face and form, a future Peer of the realm." Ruby sat listening with great ear- lie.^ t eyes, wondering to w.hat all this was to tend ; a fear seized her, lest this handsome, rich friend had come to tell her father that, he, together with some others equally influential, had got the Baron appointed to the Governor Generalship of India, and she would lose him again for years, as she had lost him when he was appointed to the Tower. " Mr. Penryth has this day come to ask you in marriage. I promised at once that you should be his ; thus is fulnlled the first wish of my heart. I shall not only see you married in your youth to a highly estim- able, honorable man, but to one who can place you in the rank and position from which the Seymores have been falling for generations, the old lands of Sebert will • I rirfff 92 THE HOLY STONE. be yours, in you will the family resume again the posi- tion and power it has lost." Ruby was horror struck. For some minutes she could not answer, her face, from which every particle of color had faded, leaving it as white and nearly as cold as marble, was but too truly an index of the fear which almost froze her heart. Her father saw and noted 'thiji, going on in his enumeration of the advantages she would have, the lands and wealth and power she would possess as Countess of Sydenhault, the servants and carriages that would be at her command, and the jewels she would wear. Her heart almost stopped beatings-she clasped her hands, and leaning forward towards her father, as if she would plead for mercy, said in faltering accents : " Father, I can never marry Mr. Penryth." He look'ed at her in unfeigned astonishment ; he had expected a slight remonstrance — a flood of tears, and he was all the while steeling himself against this, but for these rebellious words, so full of womanly decision, he was wholly unprepared. " Ruby, what did you say ? — my ears must have deceived me — you will not marry Mr. Penryth !-^the daughters of gentlemen in my rank of life, marry the men of their father's choice ;^it is not supposed that girls of your age are capable of judging whom they should, or should not marry. If I know myself; — if I live and keep my senses ; — you shall be Mr. Penryth's wife ere the grass is mown this year, or the Summer leaves turn yellow." " No, my father, I never will." Ruby's thoughts fled back to Herbert Sidney and St. Wolfgang's rock, and THE HQLY STONE. 93 they shaped her words. " I would rather make my dwelling-place on the Saint's rock, trusting to the mercy of the wild sea waves than marry Mr. Penryth." '• I will not argue the point with you, my child, but that you marry the man I have chosen for you, the man I would choose had I every one in Britain who boasts a title sueing for your hand, is as certain as if it was already a consummated fact. This day week Mr. Penryth will dine here with me, I expect you then to welcome him, as your affianced husband." Lord Seymore gone. Ruby was left alone, her brain in a wild whirl, her heart almost turned to stone. She had in one short hour left behind the old life, with all its little troubles, its short-lived cares, its sunshine and its flowers, and entered on "A stormy sea where was never a ship." How had all her fond dreams of home and Her- bert Sydney been scattered by the fierce north wind ! She pressed her hands one over the other upon her closed eyes and moaned out in her despair, " Oh ! that I were dead ! "^ Lord Seymore came to Bayswater every day, taking care to be there during Mr. Penryth's visits. He explain- ed to him that Ruby had a girl's fancy to remain as she was for some years to come, but that he wished to see her Mrs. Penryth ere the year was out. Mr. Penryth could not shut his eyes to the fact that Ruby's cheek was becoming paler and thinner day by day, her eyes larger and brighter, that in her heart most surely there was no love for him. But his own love be- came stronger and deeper, he was willing to take her on any terms, and her father had determined if she should r ! ! ! i. 11! 94 THE HOLY STONE. only live a year, she should for that year be Mrs. Pen- ryth. So they settled it between them, that in the end of August this ill-starred marriage, this sacrifice on the altar of mammon, and rank-worship should take place. Ethel was delighted, she looked upon Ruby's misery as romantic nonsense, which would all end the first day of her wedded life. ** You are the most foolish nonsensical girl I ever saw or heard of," said she, in one of her many essays to make Ruby listen to what she called reason, "half the g'.rls in London are doubtless envying you the handsome wealthy husband you are to have, while you consider it a misfortune to be obliged to marry him. I do think Ruby it must be half affectation. Why the Sydenhault diamonds alone would make me crazy to marry him, were he old and ugly, instead of compara- tively young and certainly handsome. What do you mean ? you know the old song,^ " Saltouii's bowed in the back, And crooked in the arm, Jut the bonny lands of Saltoun \ ^To me are the charm." ,^ " I never in my life heard of any one who would not be delighted at the thought of marrying a rich titled husband, except yourself." •' Ethel, I will never marry him, they may take me to the church, but I shall never leave it alive." The sad yet determined tone in which these words were uttered, the white face and compressed lips that spoke, almost fright- ened her volatile companion. •• For mercy's sake, Ruby, don't speak in that way, or /Bi (tc THE HOLY STONE. 95 you'll terrify me so, I shall not have courage to accompany you, do you mean to conceal a poniard in your bosom, and just as the words have been uttered by the priest, ' They whom God hath joined let no man put asunder,' seize the weapon and plunging it into your heart ? — these are the approved words for recording that style of thing, are they not ?" " No, I do not, Ethel, but since I knew that I should be forced to marry a man I cannot love, I have prayed to God day and night that He would let me die, here in this house ere the twentieth of August, the day, if I live to see it, which will be to me the darkest that ever dawned. He may not grant my prayer, but I know that if I live to enter the church in marriage robes, I will never live to leave it, perhaps it is better I should die there, it may make other fathers have more mercy than mine has." The white lips which spoke these words, and the great heavy eyes set in the marble face that looked at her with an expression bordering on despair, made Ethel shiver with fear for a moment or two. But her volatile nature soon shook off the strange feeling; and as she could not understand how Ruby or any one else could really feel what she said in view of the brilliant alliance she was about to form, she comforted herself by assigning all such words to the romance of her cousin's nature, which made her prefer, or think she preferred, wild roses to camellias and daisies to gumcistus. Ethel believed in lier heart that all this sickly romantic nonsense would pass away, and that Ruby would be truly one of the happiest wives in London if not the very happiest 1 1 t , ir f • ''I ! i 96 THE HOLY STONE. \ ilKiHi A trousseau fit for a Duchess was ordered, and sent hpme to the weary girl whose heavy heart would not permit her to look at satin dress or pearl necklace. Mr. Penryth's present to his bride, a necklace and bracelet of diamonds which a Queen might have envied, was sent to Ruby through her father on the nineteenth, the evening previous to the wedding day. Ruby threw her arms round her father : " Oh ! Papa, take them back, give them to Mr. Penryth, if they are put on me they will only adorn the neck and arms of a corpse, the brightness of these gems go through my eyes to my heart, wounding it like a poisoned arrow ; they will do the same to you and Mr. Penryth both when I am dead." Lord Seymore's cold blue eye fell on her with the hard stony look she had become accustomed to during the past three months, as loosening the hold her arms had of his person he said, sternly : " There is not the least fear of their adorning a corpse I am tired of all this nonsense ; put on these to-morrow and feel, as you ought to feel, the generous love of your bridegroom in presenting you with such a costly gift. Take care, lest wearied with your discontented melancholy face, he does not desert you now, at the last moment, and leave you to wear the willow, a laughing stock to all the aristocracy in London." . .1 " Oh ! that he would be merciful and do so," came from Ruby's pale lips. That night Colonel Ponsonby said to his wife: " I would as soon imbrue my hands in that beautiful child's blood. as have any hand in that unnatural mar- THE HOLY STONE.