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MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I.I 1^ 1^ 12.8 3.6 lil£ 2.5 [2.2 ZO 1.8 ^ ^jPPLIED IIVMGE 1653 East Main Street Rochesl.r, New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0500 - Phone (716) 288- 5989 -Fax inc , COLON I AH LIBR/\RY «•■ i<; J^Lf II P W 7^ f ^ J o :r^-:»7vAA tA^^ ~ -^' A^ f J"/" c^/v- C/V.i>«A-K„ s YEOMAN FLEETWOOD 'l+iy^rJPJ" «' - Ji'^'Ht^WLrf^'V Jl.'3AS«S«l-«i •«»l«jUiiA«iiifei' Longmans' Colonial Library YECMAN FLEETWOOD 'iiSj nv M. E. FRANCIS (Mrs. FRANCIS BLUNDELL) AUTHOR OF " IN A NORTH COLNTRY VILLAGE," " THE STORY OF DAN," "A DAUGHTER I. THE SOIL," " MAIME o' THE CORNER," "frieze AM) FUSTIAN," "MISS ERIN," "THE IjUENNA of a GENIUS," ETC. TORONTO THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 1900 This Edition is intended for circulation only in India and the British Colonies f 900510 f XTo tbe jflDemoty OF The Hon. Mrs. CARRINGTON SMYTHE ("Aunt Laura"). I HAD meant to dedicate my book to this dear kinswoman — I love to think of her as such, though no ties of blood bound us to each other, for if it be true that the friends of our friends become our friends, may it not be said, even more emphatically, that those near and dear to the nearest and dearest of all are bound to us by a bond hardly less strong than that forged by nature itself? But besides the link of relationship, besides even my veneration for this most sweet and gracious embodiment of serene old age, my love for the close friend, my admiration of the charming woman, I had another reason for my wish to offer her this tribute. She was, as it were, connected with the book, or rather with one of the personages who plays a part therein ; her father, Lord Stourton, bein'* the intimate friend and adviser of Mrs. Fitzherbert, the recipient of her confidences, and one of the three VI DEDICATION. trustees of the celebrated papers which still remain at Messrs. Coutts' Bank. It is from Mrs. Fitzherbert's narrative to Lord Stourton, set down by his hand, and bequeathed by him to his brother (who sub- sequently published it), that I am ' 'ebted for many details concerning that unfortunatt [ady's career. And now, though the dear Aunt has passed away before I could offer her my work, I still wish to send it into the world bearing the impress of her name, and enshrining as it were her memory. M. B. imain at lerbert's s hand, 10 sub- >r many ;er. d away to send * name, [. B. CONTENTS. PART I. The Bending of the Twig . • • rAOB PART II. The Tree 6i ^ua^i^^i. In a hero deve the Char able four, on h coat, indee His head cheei white timej bespi abed YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. PART I. THE BENDING OF THE TWIG. CHAPTER I. Heaven lies about us in our infancy, Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing boy. — WOR DSWORTH, In all little Simon Fleetwood's world there was no such hero as his father. His organ of veneration was largely developed, and he had a profound respect for many of the people with whom he came in contact. Squire Charnock, for instance, was, no doubt, a very remark- able personage ; when he drove past in his chaise and four, or when he went a-hunting, sitting up so straight on his powerful horse, and looking so well in his red coat, Simon thought Squire Charnock a very fine man indeed, but not nearly so fine a man as his father. His father, to begin with, out-topped the Squire by a head, and had such broad shoulders, and such a loud, cheery voice, and such strong arms, and such beautiful white hair— not like the Squire's hair, which was some- times white and sometimes brown, and on Sunday mornings had a patchy, streaky appearance, as though besprinkled with salt, for Mr. Charnock loved to lie abed when it was not a hunting day, and his church- 'sm&mmmdmm^mimfMiy^mmm^mi 'i«««»sK«^-,«», 2 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. going toilet was hastily and perfunctorily made in con- sequence. Mr. Fleetwood had also long, well-shaped legs, on one of which it was Simon's privilege to ride; on these occasions the boy was hoisted up and down to his own infinite delight, and with apparently no effort on the part of his progenitor. Simon firmly believed there was nothing that his father could not do. His respect and love for his mother was of a totally different order. He looked upon her with a certain awe, as on something infinitely precious. Every one in the house had impressed upon him that she was a real lady — "quite, quite the lady," the housemaid said. Even Aunt Binney, though occasionally unsympathetic when Simon expressed his admiration for the person in question, had several times informed him that his mother, in point of family, was as good, in fact a deal better, than Mrs. Charnock. Mrs. Fleetwood was a pretty, delicate- looking woman, with an expression of habitual dis- content, and a mental condition perpetually melancholy. She had never quite forgiven the honest yeoman, her husband, for marrying her, and she could not forget the fact that he was nearly thirty years older than herself. Both of these circumstances were constantly borne in mind by Mr. Fleetwood himself, and his manner towards his wife was, in consequence, slightly tinged with remorse. The consideration of her absolutely penniless condition when, in his hale middle-age, he had fallen a victim to her charms, did not seem in any way to mitigate his offence. His prevailing attitude towards her was one of atonement, particularly since the original cause of dis- pleasure had been aggravated by Simon's birth. Mrs. Fleetwood had several times intimated to her husband that the onlv alleviation she could hooe for in her hnrH , - - — — ^- _ — — — lot would be the possession of a little girl, who should resemble her own people, and whom she could bring up * "•»^)-P'*WBSWWWIBWl? le in con- ell-shaped e to ride ; and down T no effort '■ believed do. ' a totally rtain awe, ne in the jal lady — Iven Aunt en Simon stion, had in point :han Mrs. delicate- itual dis- ilancholy. man, her forget the n herself, borne in r towards I remorse, condition victim to igate his as one of ;e of dis- th. Mrs. husband her hard o should bring up YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 3 entirely in her own way ; and lo ! she found herself the mother of a fine, sturdy boy, who was exactly like his father and his father's folk. A boy with frank blue eyes, and massive limbs, and broad shoulders— a boy that any ordinary mother might have been proud of, but who, as Mrs. Fleetwood fretfully declared, would never be any- thing but a yeoman. She found some consolation in dressing him in velvet tunics and in curling his abundant brown hair ; while he was in petticoats, at least, she would try to think he was her child, she said ; and, later on, come what might, he should at least have the education of a gentleman ; he should go to a public school and afterwards to college. He must have the advantages her son was entitled to expect ; there was no reason why he should not. There had been Westons at Eton from time immemorial ; her name would be a sufficient passport there, and his father could afford well enough to send him. Mr. Fleetwood acquiesced ; he could certainly afford it. In point of wealth he had the advantage of his neighbour the Squire, though he never dreamed of considering himself his equal. He touched his hat to him in the hunting-field and called him "Sir," though the horse which he himself bestrode was superior m quality to Mr. Charnock's, and their subscriptions to the hunt were equal. The big, roomy house, where the Fleetwoods had lived for hundreds of years, had always been known as - The Farm " ; here generations of these sturdy yeomen-folk had lived and died. They had always been a power in the neigbourhood ; always men of sub- stance, not to say wealth ; respected alike by rich and poor; charitable, kindly, honest and proud People caUed them " real old stock " in the days of which I write — thesr like is not to be found now. There was, perhaps no one who had such a high opinion of the Fleetwood family as Miss Belinda Fleetwood, Simon's Aunt Binney, ^•*.-T*f^-i^^#^S»tttlC* ■ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. who had kept house for his father before his marriage, and, indeed, continued to do so after that event. She took pains to impress early on the mi ^-i of the young Simon how fine and honourable a thing it was to be one of the race, and Simon found it a little difficult to reconcile this frequently expressed opinion of hers with the equally well-known views of his mother on the same subject. In Simon's own estimation Aunt Binney ranked much lower than either of his parents ; she made excellent tarts, not to speak of elder wine and raspberry vinegar, and when in a good humour she related anecdotes about his father's boyhood which made her a delightful com- panion ; but she had a way of looking at his mother, and sniffing when the latter made a remark, which Simon violently resented ; and when he grew older he discovered that Aunt Binney actually thought her brother had been foolish in making such a marriage. On the whole, he respected old Susan, the cook, infinitely more, while there was no comparison between the dutiful regard which he bestowed on Miss Fleetwood, and the warm esteem awarded to Bill, the head man at the farm, who had gone bird's-nesting with Mr. Fleetwood in days of yore, and was his right hand now. Simon, indeed, esteemed every one about the place with one exception : he had no opinion whatever of Jane. Jane was the " lass " who did odd jobs about the house, and attended to Simon's personal toilet. It was she who dressed his hair in ringlets under Mrs. Fleetwood's supervision, who fastened his starched frill so very tightly about his round little pillar of a throat, who scolded him when he drew patterns with his chubby forefinger on his velvet tunic, and who sewed up his pockets at the top so that he could not put anything inside. Moreover, she related " boggart " tales which made him feel very uncomfortable when she took away the candle, though he scorned to '4 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. admit that he was afraid. Besides on one occasion he had heard her tell an untruth, from which moment he had looked on her with a certain horror, considering her foredoomed to perdition. It really weighed upon him to think that Jane could have been guilty of so wicked and so disgraceful an act. He was quite relieved when, a few weeks after this lapse from the path of righteousness, she evinced tokens of repentance. He was walking home from church one hot Sunday, his broad, dimpled hand firmly clasped in Jane's — to his intense discomfort, for he loathed that hard, hot, heavy hand of hers — endeavouring to beguile the tedium of the way by listening to her conversation to a friend. Jane was speaking in a particularly dolorous tone, and every now and then the hot fingers aforesaid gave a convulsive twitch. " It's all my own fault, it is that," said Jane. ** If I hadn't have been so 'ard like he'd never have thought on sich a thing." " Well, I alius did say, thou knows, as 'twas down- right cruel to sarve him that gate," returned the friend, " and theer it is, thou sees, theer it is. He's gone an' 'listed six months to the very day arter thee an' him fell out." " Ah," resumed Jane lugubriously, " it shows plain, dunnot it, why he did it ? I blame myself — that I do." " Well, what's ended cannot be mended," said the other. " Theer's no use cryin' ower spilt milk. I wouldn't give way if I were thee — I wouldn't indeed." Jane, suddenly releasing Simon, plunged her hand into her large pocket, which was tied by a ribbon round her waist, and drawing out her prayer-book produced a handkerchief, which had been lying, neatly folded, beneath the cover. With this she wiped her eyes, and then, having restored it to its original folds, replaced it liHH iS:&**»t4,' 6 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. with the prayer-book in her pocket, Simon staring at her the while with large, solemn blue eyes; then she clutched his hand again, and said in a different tone :— " Lord, I must be gettin' awhoam ; Missus'll be lookin' out for me." The friends parted, and Jane hurried along, sighing every now and then in a manner which impressed Simon very much. He forgot all about his personal grievances, and peered up at her compassionately from under his broad-brimmed hat. "Jane," he said at length, "what makes you so sorry ? " '• Ah, Master Simon," returned Jane, with a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her heart, " I'm feelin' remorseful— that's what I am." " What's remorseful ? " inquired Simon. " Why, didn't yo' hear i' th' sermon to-day as we mun all be remorseful— sorry for aught as we've done wrong ? " Simon eyed her queerly. " Are you feeling sorry, Jane, for your sins, like the sermon said ? " " I'm feelin' mighty sorry jest now. Master Simon," said Jane with another sigh. •* For everything, Jane ? " Jane laughed. " Thou'rt a funny little lad, for sure. Of course I'm sorry for everythin'." Simon wondered within himself whether Jane remem- bered having denied that she broke the sugar-bowl, and whether she was properly sorry for that. The problem occupied his mind during the rest of the homeward walk, and even overshadowed the roast beef and cherry tart of v/hich he usually partook so gleefully on Sunday. After dinner he sat on his little stool at his father's feet cogi- tating still. His mother was lying down upstairs. Aunt Binney, with a book of Pious Reflections open on her m YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ng at her clutched )e lookin' , sighing :d Simon ievances, inder his you so sigh that irt, " I'm > we mun wrong?" , lilf equity. LS though n that if d he was y, which with his urely life 3f such a that he >und the 4sly tiny •ger and hen his father led him next to the harness room and showed him the little bridle, and the saddle that was a miniature of his own — none of your pad affairs, but a real, real saddle, with stirrups and all complete. " Eh ! " ejaculated little Simon, as he surveyed this last treasure, " eh, my word, my word ! " Further speech was impossible to him, but his radiant face spoke for him plainly enough. "And that's not all," said the big genial father, " there's something here that'll make a man of thee out- and-out. See — it's a secret ; I haven't told Mother yet. Thou'rt six years old. It's time for thee to be a man." And then and there, to the almost awe-struck delight of Simon, the grim satisfaction of old Bill, and the openly- expressed admiration of Joe, the stableman, Mr. Fleet- wood produced from one of his saddle-bags a brown paper parcel, which on being unfastened proved to con- tain a bran new little suit of clothes — ^jacket and trousers of green cloth, rich in highly polished brass buttons. With big awkward fingers he helped Simon to divest himself of the despised petticoats, and assisted him to assume the longed-for masculine gear. Though Simon never felt any diffidence in availing himself of Jane's aid, he would, at any other time, have blushed to perform his toilet in the presence of so many male witnesses, but now he was too full of pride and rapture to think of such matters, and the transformation was effected amid much jubilation. " There ! " cried Mr. Fleetwood triumphantly, when the last button and button-hole met, " there, my lad, now thou art a lad ! " Bill extended a long gnarled forefinger. " They curls, mester," he suggested. "I'd 'ave they curls off They gi' him naught but a wench's face." " Come then," cried the master with a jolly laugh, *i 12 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " we'll have the curls off too. Now then, who's got a pair of scissors ? " In the excitement of the moment none were to be found, and Mr. Fleetwood was just going to operate on his son's head with the stable clippers, when Joe who had darted out to the yard, opportunely returned with the shears that were used for the sheep. The top- knot went first, Simon's father uttering an exclamation of surprise and disgust on discovering the hair-pin with which, in honour of the auspicious occasion, Jane had insisted on securing it. " Time for thee to have done with these things," cried Mr. Fleetwood contemptuously, and Simon blushed to the temples, and felt that the revelation might justly cause Bill and Joe to despise him to his dying day But, on account of his birthday, doubtless, they mag- nanimously refrained from comment. When the last shining lock had been severed, and Simon stood in all the glory of a cropped and jagged head, they proposed to give him " three times three ". The yeoman started them with a hearty " Hip ! hip I hip!" and old Bill joined in with a will, and Joe, who had exceedingly vigorous lungs, exerted them to the utmost. The very rafters rang, and Simon was so ex- hilarated by the sound that he cheered lustily for himself, and began a kind of war-dance of triumph trampling on the discarded tunic, and waving in each hand a bunch of the abhorred curls. The din was at its height when the door of the harness room was pushed hastily open, and Mrs. Fleetwood appeared. She shrieked with horror, and tottered back against the wall. Bill feigned to be suddenly uccupied in the perfectly needless rubbing up of Simon's new stirrups, and Joe, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 13 vere to be to operate when Joe, y returned The top- m nn <=«vf»«'v /-»fl-«<».- Ar^t. .T ..„.. i;i._ T't > i- vr-i_)- ^mv-i via}' II yuu iiivc. 1 lie y ve got such a lot of buttons an' no strings. They're much easier to fasten than my old clothes." I m H YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. She gave him a little push from her. " Indeed I don t want to have anything to do with the nasty common things," she cried. "You and your men can take him mto your charge now. Mr. Fleetwood, since you ve begun so well. The child doesn't belong to me any more. You have made him a perfect fright ' " ^^ " Very well, my love," returned her husband gravely no doubt Simon is getting too big to be so much with the women-folk. I am sorry to have offended you " he went on in a softer tone, - it was a mistake. I thought you would be as pleased with the little fellow's joy as I am. J / "^ i " Pleased ! " ejaculated Mrs. Fleetwood with a sob that he looks l,ke a boor? I feel disgraced that he should belong to me." She pushed little Simon from her and, bursting into tears, rushed away. ^ The child felt for a moment as though all the world had turned topsy-turvy. Catching the infection of a grief which he could not understand, and overcome moreover, by an acute sense of dismay and disappoint- ment, he. too, fell a-sobbing, and, running to his father, hid his face in the flap of his coat. Mr. Fleetwood lifted hlndl."^ t f t?'"^ ^'' '^'' ''''^ ^'^ S'^^' bandana handkerchief; his own face was grave and somewhat "No crying," he said quickly. "Come, give over trukn:::.'.^^^^^^^^- ^^~ ^e a ^n now, but that ne used the homely " Thou," which with him betokened tenderness or emotion ; but he felt, n.v.rfhe- iess, wounded and astonished at the reproof-had not his mother herself wept but a moment ago? As he •■''•?-»£«■ i8 CHAPTER II. We sleep and wake and sleep, but all things move ; The Sun flies forward to his brother Sun ; The dark Earth follows wheel'd in her ellipse ; And human things, returning on themselves, Move onward, leading up the golden year. —Tennyson. The years came and went, and in the quiet precincts of the Farm there seemed to be few changes. Simon's motiier grew more and more delicate, and the gentle tolerance with which her husband had always regarded her foibles had recently given place to a more active and demonstrative tenderness. He carried her up and down- stairs, oHd purchased for her special use a low four- wheeled chaise with very easy springs. Aunt Binney was scandalised at the introduction of such a vehicle. If her sister-in-law Fleetwood was too fine to ride a pillion behind her husband, surely she might content herself with a gig. But she did not venture to grumble in her brother's presence, nor even in Simon's. The lad was growing like his father in more ways than one, and vied with him in chivalrous devotion to the pretty, fretful creature who had honoured him by giving him birth. For the rest the world jogged on much as it had always done. Squire Charnock lost his wife shortly after Simon was "breeched," and speculation was rife as to whom he would choose to replace her. It was u... . ^.. ...»,, J, •.ivt^itin^rj, T_vCii u\^i\ji\, tiic pOUi lauy iiiiu ^^s been carried to her long home, that he must of neces- sity marry again. He was childless, and had, more- over, que — if it w much wa bound to to think still, anc he do? But th surprise, some fori o' body,' place wh( was laid the meri They ha( and had failing to by mutua of Charnl slur upon proprietoi the use of and men was to gc of them ? the annou Mr. Fleet right to n it so loud raps on no long • people no( that he'd seeing tha The Ch YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 19 over, quarrelled with his brother, the heir presumptive —if it was but to spite him, the villagers agreed with much wagging of heads and pursing up of lips, he'd be bound to look out for a new missus, and when one came to think of him so lonely like, and such a fine man still, and so fond of company, why what else could he do? But the Squire's second marriage took every one by surprise, after all, for what must he do but pick up some foreign madam, " a Frenchy or some such mak' o' body," and bring her home from some outlandish place where he h?,d gone travelling, after his late wife was laid under the sod. Nobody had ever appreciated the merits of the last-named lady so much before. They had thought but poorly of her in her lifetime, and had found it difficult to forgive her remissness m failing to provide Mr. Charnock with an heir ; but now by mutual accord she was canonised. The inhabitants of Charnleigh village felt their Squire's choice to be a slur upon their native land. What was the use, as the proprietor of the Charnock Arms inquired, what was the use of the country's having sent out all them ships and men to make an end of France if their own Squire was to go and bring a French madam into the midst of them ? In the chorus of disapproval which greeted the announcement of the match one voice was missing : Mr. Fleetwood stoutly maintained that the Squire was right to marry the woman he fancied. He maintained it so loudly and perseveringly, and with such emphatic raps on the table, that by-and-bye the matter was no long • discussed in his presence. Behind his back people nodded and winked at each other, and whispered that he'd be like to stand up for the Squire's choice seeing that he had not made a very wise one himself The Charnleigh folk forgot their dissatisfaction, how- 20 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ever, when they heard that there were to be " such doin's as never was " in honour of the new-comer. The Squire wished her to receive a hearty English welcome, it was understood, and when rumours of tenants' dinners, and a dance in the barn, and other festivities of an equally hospitable description flew about, all were magnanimously prepared to do honour to the bride. " After all, poor soul," old Betty Barnes remarked when she received the bedgown and petticoat presented in honour of the occasion to each widow in the village, "after all, poor soul," 't warn't none o' her fault that she was born a Frenchy, no more nor 't would ha' been if J- he'd ha' been born wi'out no legs nor that." The sentiment was felt to be just, and was repeated many times as the day appointed for the home-coming of bride and bridegroom drew near. Mrs. Fleetwood expressed a wish to see the arrival, and her husband drove her in the chaise to the lodge gates of Charnleigh Hall, where they took up their position in close proximity to the \ mmphal arch. Simon rode alongside of the chaise on his pony. Mr. Fleet- wood could not properly mix with Mr. Charnock's tenants, the farm being a freehold and he himself in every way independent of the Squire, while his social status did not admit of the well-appointed chaise following the more antiquated vehicles of the neighbouring gentry which passed rapidly under the archway, and took up their position in front of the Hall. Mrs. Fleetwood was dis- posed to complain a little of this enforced isolation, to which, however, as she added with a sigh, she was but too well accustomed. "We are neither fish, flesh, nor fowl," she murmured. " The people with whom I should by right associate have cast me off; while as for your friends " '' My friends are not good enough for you, are they, JMAN FLEETWOOD. 31 my dear?" put ir the yeom in finishing the sentence. " Never mind : I ■ \ink we c very well as we are. We shall have a sple, . view hciO. Go 1-day, N'r. Billing- ton," as the bailiff rode up., full of c xcitement "Good-day to you, Mr. Fleetwood, I've come to ask a favour o' ye. Will ye let yon fine lad o' yours present the address ? Ye see, 'tis this way : My little wench there will hand up a nosegay, while the school childer's singin' their welcome, an' hoo's a bit timid like, an' hoo dunnot like the notion o' goin' up by hersel'. Hoo isn't one o' the school childcr, ye know, an' I don't reckon to let ony o' them go up along of her. I reckon to read the address mysel' a bit later on, but I jest bethought me as your lad 'ud be the very chap to go up with it. Eh ! 't 'ull be a pratty seet — the lad an' the ic*ss goin' up, one a side o' t'other, an' him such a gradely little chap." " To be sure, to be sure," cried the father, much flattered. " Simon'll be proud to go, won't you, Simon? You must hold up your head, you know, and look the lady in the face." " Yigh, he'll larn to do that quick enough, I'll engage, afore aught's long," laughed the bailiff. " I am very thankful to ye, Mr. Fleetwood. Coom wi' me, my lad, an' I'll show you where to stand." Simon jumped down from his pony and handed the reins to his father, who was subjected to a somewhat severe reprimand from Mrs. Fleetwood for having made so little of the boy. " I don't see why my son should be chosen as a match for the bailiff's child — he might be any common lad." " My dear, he has been chosen because he h my son," returned her husband, with the quiet firmness which he so rarely adopted, and which invariably caused Mrs. ■i H «»-,ii(^,.,- 22 YEOM \N FLEETWOOD. Fleetwood to subside. " I am proud and glad to show this mark of respect to the Squire." Simon at first eyed his little companion askance, not because she was the bailiffs daughter, but because she happened to be a girl. When at last, however, the Squire's chariot drew up in the midst of the enthusiastic throng, he held out his hand to her kindly enough, for he saw that she was frightened and bewildered. " Come along," he said," we've got to go right up to 'em. You're to give your flowers to the lady, while I give this paper to the Squire." All was bustle and cheerful confusion as they ap- proached the vehicle. People were unyoking the horses, and the Squire was leaning forward shaking hands right and left. A fine, fresh-complexioned, portly man was he, and right kindly did he smile at Simon who, with head thrown back and form erect, presented his address fearlessly. " Why, whose lad is this ? " cried the Squire. " What a fine lad to be sure. What is your name my man ? " " Simon Weston Fleetwood," replied the boy. " My father and mother are over yonder. We have all come to wish you welcome." " By George, a splendid boy ! Look here Sweetheart," and the Squire turned affectionately to the lady at his side, " here is a fine specimen of a little Englishman for you." " The children are indeed beautiful," murmured a soft voice from the interior of the chariot, and the Squire's bride leaned forward in her turn, and extended a gracious hand to receive the little maiden's flowers. What a lovely face ! Simon had never seen the like. It was dark and yet bright, with such great soft curious eyes. The boy grew suddenly shy, and dropped his own. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 23 "Aye, aye," cried Mr. Charnock, "the little girl's well e.iough — ^the bailiff's child — I know her well — a bonny little lass. But look at the lad, madam, look at the lad. See here, my boy, tell Father and Mother that I would like to see them at the Hall yonder to thank them for their kindness in coming to welcome me, and mind you come up, too, for your share of the good things that are going." The triumphal procession moved onwards, and Simon, returning to his parents, repeated the Squire's message. Great, indeed, was Mrs. Fleetwood's satisfaction, and very bright and pretty did she look when Mr. Charnock — all smiles and graciousness to-day — presented her to his bride in just the same terms as those he had em- ployed in introducing neighbours of his own standing. "Upon my soul, Fleetwood," he cried a little later, clapping the honest yeoman on the shoulder, " I was glad to see that boy of yours to-day. By George, sir, I took it to be a good omen that such a promising lad should be waiting for us on our threshold. I tell you, Fleetwood, I v/ould give twenty years of my life to call such a lad my son." " Well, sir," returned the other simply, " I hope and pray the Lord may send you just such another." But the wish was not destined to be realised. The only fruit of the Squire s union with the foreign lady was one fragile little girl. People said that the marriage had not been blessed, and reminded each other of their prophesies before the event had taken place. The Squire, at all times accustomed to live beyond his means, seemed in his bitter disappointment to become reckless. The Hall was perpetually full of company, and wild tales flew about the country of the extravagant doings of him and his friends, and people blamed the stupidity of the French Madam, who had not given Ifi n . t* 'I J- ' I I: \ 1. i- '''I 24 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Pi her master something better to think on. Simon heard httle of this talk, for he had been sent to school soon after the Squire's marriage, and though he had shared the general disappointment at the non-arrival of a son at the Hall, chiefly because his father thought it a pity, he soon ceased to trouble his head about the matter' His own life had now become more varied. After a year or two at a private academy he was sent to Eton, his mother's influence proving sufficiently strong to ob- tam admittance for him; and existence was changed indeed for the country-bred boy. He was intelligent and mdustrious, and liked his work well enough but was conscious from the first of a subtle difference be- tween himself and his companions. He had always held his own, however, his strength of character as well as his magnificent physique ensuring him respect; and after a time his proficiency at ail manly games caused him to become something of a favourite. When he was about fifteen certain events took place which, though apparently trivial, not only altered his actual circumstances, but influenced his whole subsequent life. Mr. Charnock, tired of being at enmity with his only brother, mvited him and his family to spend Christmas at the Hall ; and Mr. John Charnock, with his wife and his son Humphrey, whom Simon recognised as a fellow- Etonian, arrived by the same coach which brought that young gentleman home for the holidays. Young Humphrey greeted him with surprise and the respectful pleasure due to two years' seniority and mag- nificently muscular arms. "Hullo, Fleetwood! I didn't know you came from this part of the world." '' I Hve quite close to Charnleigh Hall," said Simon. ' y\ny, that IS famous. Well have some rare prac- tisings at football." ^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 25 In his uncle's carriage Humphrey enlarged upon his satisfaction. He had feared the holidays would be rather dull ones, there being no young folks at the Hall with the exception of the five-year old girl-cousin. " Fleetwood, let me see— Fleetwood— why, that must be Simon Fleetwood's boy. And you say he is at Eton. Why, how did he get there? I should have thought old Simon would have had better sense ! " exclaimed his father. "Do you know him then, sir?" " Know him ? Well, yes, in a kind of a way. He is a yeoman-farmer, and his land adjoins the Charnleigh property. It appears old Simon intends his son to make a figure in the world. Foolish fellow, foolish fellow, he will repent bringing up the lad so much above his station." " No wonder young Fleetwood's got muscular arms," thought Humphrey contemptuously, but nevertheless he resolved to be civil and condescending if he met Simon, for, after all, it would be confounded dull work if he could find no one with whom to play football. But he was agreeably surprised to discover two or three youths of his own age at the Hall, and the time passed gaily and pleasantly. He went out shooting for the first time, and besides the football, the weather was gloriously seasonable, and he could slide and skate to his heart's content. One bright, intensely cold afternoon, Simon came upon a merry party skating on a pond which lay in the outskirts of the Charnleigh woods, and partly in one of his father's fields. He had gone down there thinking to find the place deserted, and was pleased anH acfon.'oKpH ^^ 'J- — ,—.-•-,- that the fine piece of ice had already been taken posses- sion of. ■> irSjii^j^'^ni^jfi^iii&tb*, 26 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 1^ " Hallo, Charnock ! I'm coming in a minute," he called out, proceeding with cheerful alacrity to put on his skates. Humphrey Charnock was not in his house at Eton, and he had hitherto concerned himself little about him, beyond a certain vague recognition of him as the Squire's nephew. But youth instinctively seeks young companionship, and though he had never cared to associate with Charnock at school, it would be both natural and pleasant to fraternise now. Humphrey, however, had risen vastly in his own estimation since his arrival at Charnleigh. As the Squire's nephew he had more or less played the part of host towards the three young visitors, and, moreover, was quite sharp enough to appreciate the importance of being heir " in tail " to that fine property. He considered the present a favourable opportunity for putting " that fellow Fleet- wood " in his place. " I say," he drawled, skating slowly towards Simon, who was rapidly and impatiently fastening the last strap of the last skate. " I say, Fleetwood, we don't want you here, you know." Simon drew the little leather tongue firmly through before he looked up : there was a flash in his eyes, and his face was red but he was quite calm. " Oh, don't you," he returned, " that's a pity, because I'm coming." Humphrey propelled himself a yard or two nearer. " It's uncommon impertinent of you, Fleetwood. I and these other gentlemen wish to have the pond to ourselves." Simon made no reply but leisurely descended on to the ice, skimming past Humphre\' in another moment. " Let's chase him," cried one of the others coming up, and the two remaining visitors gleefully supported the 1 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 27 ute," he put on Lt Eton, DUt him, as the s young :ared to be both mphrey, on since Dhew he ards the e sharp heir " in present iv Fleet- Simon, 1st strap rant you through yes, and because arer. /ood. pond I to d on to noment. ning rted up, the proposal. They were Rugby boys, and were unfettered by any traditions of Simon's prowess in the cricket- field. "Well, it is a confounded shame," remarked Hum- phrey. *' He's trespassing, you know, and IVe warned him ; so he deserves a lesson." In the presence of his three mates he felt as brave as a lion. Meanwhile, Simon was unconcernedly pursuing his course round the pond, cutting figures of eight, and performing other feats on the outside edge which would have much impressed any ordinary juvenile onlookers. But the four in question, filled with zeal for the honour of the Charnocks in particular and the maintenance of law and order in general, charged up to him with severe and portentous countenances and surrounded him. Simon stopped abruptly; then, with unexpected deci- sion, seized the two foremost youths by their respective collars, knocked their heads together, and flung them to a convenient distance, where they remained for some moments clawing at the ice in the vain attempt to regain the perpendicular. With a sudden flank movement he next obtained possession of Humphrey, and clutching him firmly by the neck he turned to deal with his fourth opponent, a brave little fellow, who came sparring up to him with a valour worthy of a better cause. Simon burst out laughing as he imprisoned the two bony little warlike arms in one strong hand. "You're a brave fellow," he said. "Now, look here, what do you want to fight me for ? " "Because you're trespassing," returned the boy, struggling in Simon's iron grip. " I'm not then," cried Simon bluntly. " This pond belon.p's as much to mv father as to S'luire Charnock. I've always come here when I wanted to, and I always will, I don't want to hurt you, but you musn't interfere 28 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. With me. Now then, all you fellows, stand by and see tair.^ I ve got to fight you, young Charnock-'tis a pity you re so small, but we can't settle the matter any other- way, so I'm going to hold one hand behind me and that will make me about your match. Come on, lad, and take off your skates." Humphrey turned his head with difficulty towards him ; he was white and sick with fear -the mere weight of Simon s hand on his neck was enough for him ^^ "I don't want to take off my skates," he stammered. There-- here isn t time-besides I don't want to fight a fellow like you, Fleetwood." ''Well, you've got to do it." returned Simon grimly. Iheres no question about a fellow like me. If I tie v^" ' W.^ ''f ' '^"'^'- ^^ >'°" "°"'^ fight' I'^^ thrash fh. h ^ x\ r^' ^" ^^' propelling him towards the bank. The other boys gathered round, full of ex- citement, and loudly protesting that nothing could be fairer or more honourable than Simon's conduct When the bank was reached Simon released his adversary and began to unfasten his skates, but Hum- phrey remained motionless. After a moment's pause he moistened his dry lips and faltered •- " There's a mistake, Fleetwood-I-thought, I didn't I'^L'ed"' ' ' ^'^'^ ^° ^°"^ '^^^' °^ ' ^^-^^"'t have Simon looked up quickly. " You mean that you apologise ? " " Yes, I suppose I do." "Yes," hesitatingly. I' ^^^you promise never to interfere with me again ? " Simon refastened his skate and returned to the pond, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 29 While Humphrey as soon as he was out of earshot ex- tl7t m' '"^^^1"^°"^ ^"d disappointed companions that t would never have done for him to have got mixed himself by fightmg with him-besides there would have been no end of a row with his father and most probably his uncle. His incoherent statement was received with that he had had enough of the business for one, led the way homewards whistling. The others followed in his wake, each assuming a jaunty air. and putting their hands '"^ TTu ''V ^"' "^^ ^^^^ '^^' ^1^^ dignity of their order had that day received a blow which it would take long m recovering. Humphrey brought up the rear • he too, put his hands in his pockets and whistled shrilly' and a good deal out of tune. Simon, left in possession of the pond, flew round and round, and cut wonderful figures of his own composition and enjoyed himself amazingly. Once or twice when he paused he thought he heard a faint cry, and wondered what manner of bird or beast it might emanate from but he was too much intoxicated by the exercise to comi- tate long. When, however, in the gathering dusk, he sat down to remove his skates, he heard it again, distinct and near at hand. It came from the direction of the Charnleigh woods, and, springing to his feet. Simon ran across the pond and began to search for the cause All at once he almost stumbled across a little white heap on the ground, and as he stooped over it. it moved and moaned. "Why. what have we here?" he cried in astonish- ment. It was a little girl of about five nr «,-v ,r»o..o ^1^ ....>u Clustering dark curls, and immense dark eyes which she fixed vaguely on Simon. He raised her in his arms : 30 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. her teeth were chattering with cold, and her little limbs almost petrified. "Where's Humphrey?" she whimpered, "where's Cousin Humphrey?" "It must be the Squire's little girl," said Simon to himself, adding aloud : " why, how did you come here ? " " I wanted to see Cousin Humphrey skate. O— o oh — I am so cold ! I am so cold ! " " Aye, indeed, poor little maid, you're well-nigh frozen. I'll run with you to our place— it's much nearer than the Hall. You'll let me take you to the nice warm fire, won't you? See, it's quite close— we'll be there in two minutes." The child only wailed in reply, and Simon took the law into his own hands, and stripping off his jacket, wrapped it round her. According to the custom of the time her little feet and legs were insufficiently covered by the thinnest of socks and shoes, and she was now almost incapable of moving them. Simon had a natural tenderness for all live things, and had, moreover, been taught from his eariiest childhood to respect and compassionate the weakness of the other sex. The sufferings of this very small specimen of woman-kind aroused all his sympathy, and it was with acute distress that he listened to her cries. " Are you hurt ? " he asked suddenly, fearing that she might have sustained some injury that he knew not of. "Tell me, is it only the cold, or does anything pain you ? " " It's my hands," sobbed the little creature ; " they do hurt, oh they do ! " She held out two minute gloveless hands, black and blue, and doubtless acutely painful 'vith cold. Simon remembered the agony which he had himself endured, when once, as a very little fellow, he had stood about YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 31 with his father one cold market-day, and how his father had only restored the circulation to his own small suffering members by warming them in his capacious bosom. " Poor little hands ! " he said gently. " Put them in here ; we'll soon warm them. Now, we'll run for it, shall we?" He cuddled her close to him, and set off at a brisk pace, feeling as though two small bits of ice were pressing against his breast. Gradually the child ceased crying, and after a few minutes, indeed, he burst into the warm parlour at home, startling his mother and Aunt Binney, who were seated by the fire. His hat had fallen off, his boots were clogged with snow, and he was, as we know, jacketless. But his eyes were bright and eager, and his face flushed with excitement. " I've brought you a visitor," he cried. " I found this little lady in the snow, all alone. She was almost frozen, so I brought her to you to thaw. It's the Squire's little wench." Miss Belinda would have taken her from him, but with a cry of surprise and pleasure Mrs. Fleetwood held out her arms. " Give her to me. Give the sweet, pretty creature to me. What a way they must be in at the Hall about her ! Go quickly, Simon, and tell Joe to let them know that we have found her, and that she is quite safe. And, Belinda, would it not be well to prepare a warm drink for the dear little girl ? " She had drawn her closer to the fire as she spoke, and now began with eager haste to unfasten the strings of the child's beaver bonnet and little pelisse. " Dear heart, dear heart, she's as cold as any stone ! Come, let us take off the shoes and warm the nonr UtHe feet." Simon retired to do his mother's bidding, and returned 32 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. presently to announce that the messenger had been des- patched. His father had entered meanwhile, and the group round the wide hearth made a pretty picture. Simon's mother, her face alight v .th admiring tender- ness, was bending over her little charge to whom Aunt Binney, squatting on the floor in the firelight, was pre- senting, with diverse blandishments, a cup of oatmeal posset. The little girl was sitting up looking about her with bright inquiring eyes. Simon had never seen the like of those eyes before ; the}' were like stars, he said to himself. The head, with its thick crop of dark curls, was beautifully set on the little round neck, the con- tour of which could now be seen since the removal of the pelisse. Beneath the frills of the muslin frock two small bare feet stretched themselves towards the blaze. As he entered his mother weighed them gently in onehand. " Do you see, Mr. Fleetwood ? " she asked, glancing upwards towards the corner where her husband stood smiling with that rather sad smile of his which puzzled Simon, " do you see what beautiful little feet ? See the fine ankle, and the instep, how high and arched ! I'll warrant that water would run under the sole of this foot if one were to try. She is a jewel altogether. Mark me the turn of her head, and this fine little hand. Why, Simon's hand at a year old was broader." "Aye, aye, I'll engage it was," returned her husband. Mrs. Fleetwood pressed the child to her almost passionately. " Would that she were mine ! " she cried. " I should have had a child like this that I could understand and love." The cry was almost involuntary, and the eyes of father and son met in a glance of equal sadness and endurance. Looking up in her turn Mrs. Fleetwood saw the glance and felt remorseful. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 33 "I should dearly have liked you to have a sister, Simon," she said, half-apologetically. " It is quite right for you to be big— boys ought to be big, and you are like your fathe/, you see. If I had had a little daughter she might have been like my people. All the Westons are finely made, and have delicate, straight features like this little dear. I could have dressed her so pretty, and she'd have stayed at home with me when you and your father were out. I can't help envying Madam Char- nock." "Good Lord .'"cried her husband, speaking for once with some impatience, " Madam Charnock, poor lady, would give all in the world to be the mother of such a fine boy as yours, ma'am." A little later the Squire himself endorsed this statement. He came bustling in, very grateful to the Fleetwoods for having come to the -escue of his only child, and much relieved at the discovery of her whereabouts. But his displeasure with the little maid herself was in proportion to his previous anxiety ; he rated her soundly while her new friends assisted her to don shoes and socks, pelisse and bonnet. She had answered his questions frankly and fearlessly; she wanted to see Cousin Humphrey and the other boys skate, and had slipped away while nurse was putting on her bonnet. She had run so fast, so fast, but could not catch them up ; and when she had come to the woods she could not find her way, and the cold had made her cry, and then " the boy " had found her. " You will please forgive her, sir," put in Mrs. Fleet- wood softly. " She is such a little girl, and she did not mean to be naughty, did you, my pretty ? " The star-like eyes were raised to the soft and some- what faded ones which were looking down so kindly, and after a moment's reflection, the curly head nodded emphatically : — J' I M hi », ••• ,- '■ 34 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Yes, I did. I thought I would be naughty for once, I like being naughty." Mr. Fleetwood laughed heartily, and the Squire joined in ; the child's manner was so quaint and so deliberate : Mrs. Fleetwood laughed too, though she feigned to be shocked, but Miss Belinda, who had no great sense of humour, was much scandalised. " Well ! " she ejaculated, " that's a pretty way for a lass tj speak. Our poor Simon, little as you think of him, would never behave so." She spoke in an undertone, intending the remark only for Sister Fleetwood, and perhaps her brother, but the Squire heard. "Simon," he repeated. "Ah, yes, it was he who found my little wench. Where is the lad ? What was it you were saying? Somebody thinks little of him? Why, no one surely could think little of this fine boy. Neighbour Fleetwood, I never see him but I envy you. How he grows, to be sure! You must be proud of your son, Mrs. Fleetwood ? " "She is, Squire, she is," put in the yeoman hastily, seeing that his wife looked somewhat disconcerted, and being always anxious to extricate her from any difficulty. "But she has fairly lost her heart to your beautiful little lass. She was saying as you came in that she would give all the world to have such a child, and she is in the right of it — she is in the right of it, for sure." The genuine admiration with which the pair looked at the little girl could not but be flattering to Mr. Charnock, who was one of those men to whom the fact that anything belongs to them gives a unique value to the property in question. He had been much disgusted and disappointed at the advent of his daughter, but, in addition to his natural paternal affection, he felt a proud interest i of Charn seemed i the famil the crow "Why with you, sometime ^ ''' you " Rach( wood. "A fair was not tl " Yes, the: — a great Rake the> but, egad can see h the world has eyes 1 •' Perhaf cried Mrs. " Heavei YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,5 interest in the child. She was his offspring, a Charnock of Charnleigh, and the appreciation even of inferior folk seemed in some manner to reflect credit on the head of the family. He smiled now, well pleased, and tapped the crown of the be-feathered little bonnet "Why then," he cried gaily, "she must make friends with you, Mrs. Fleetwood. She must come and see you sometimes when she goes out a-riding on her pony ^ ' ' you not, Rachel?" ^' " Rachel ! what a pretty name ! " murmured Mrs. Fleet- wood. "A family name," returned Mr. Charnock affably for was not the name, too, the property of the Charnocks ? Yes, there have been Rachel Charnocks for generations -a great great-aunt of mine was Rachel-Rachel the Rake they used to call her-not a very flattering title- but, egad, she was a beauty, and no mistake! You can see her picture yonder at the house. She turned the world topsy-turvy for a time. The little one here has eyes like her, though I fancy hers were darker." " Perhaps she, too, will turn the world topsy-turvv " cried Mrs. Fleetwood. " Heaven forbid ! " said the honest Yeoman. ■M «-.- '■% 36 CHAPTER III. Her every tone is music's own, Like those of morning birds, And something more than melody Dwells ever in her words ; The coinage of her heart are they. And from her lip each flows, As one may see the burden'd bee, Forth issue from the rose. — POE. Madam Charnock came to the Farm next day at an early hour, so early, in fact, that Mrs. Fleetwood, who was tired by the excitements of the previous evening, had not yet left her room. The lady took a seat as requested in the oak parlour, and Simon entertained her while his father went upstairs to announce her arrival. Aunt Binney happened to have an engagement in the dairy that morning, and had, indeed, hastened out of the room a moment before the arrival of the Squire's lady, only just in time to save herself from the ignominy of receiving her in bedgown and petticoat. Maadm Char- nock had grown much older, Simon thought, since that memorable day when he had helped to welcome her home. There were silver threads in the abundant dark hair, and many lines about the mouth and the sweet gracious eyes. Far more lines than were to be seen in the face of Simon's invalid mother ; and yet surely she was the elder of the two. Simon stood in the lady's presence, and her eyes travelled slowly over his face and figure with a certain curious regretful gaze which made the boy feel both shy and sad. When she at length j broke previoi slight f " Yoi thank not ha\ Simc "I SI has tau " No, As s\ evident, tread w; hall, am Fleetvvo in his ai she mac he and the cush "I th: addr sii am re turnin«: health, a when sh^ The S Mrs. Fie with the accepts s onlooker, and the i had assis obeyed ; respectful Mrs. F] YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 37 broke silence, however, she gave no indication of her previous thoughts. She spoke Engh'sh well, but with a slight foreign accent that the boy thought rather pretty " You were very good to my little girl yesterday I thank you for it with all my heart. Some boys would not have been so kind to a little stranger." Simon blushed fiery red and made no answer. "I suppose," she continued, "it is your mother who has taught you to be so gentle ? " "No, madam," returned Simon, "it is my father." As she looked questioningly at him, her surprise being evident, the sound of a firm and somewhat ponderous tread was heard descending the stairs and crossing the hall, and Simon hastening to the door opened it. Mr Fleetwood came in carrying, as was his custom, his wife in his arms. He set her gently on the ground, and while she made her apologies and explanations to the visitor he and Simon wheeled forward the couch and arranged the cushions. " I think you ought to h'e down, my dear," he said, addr sing his wife, who aad remained standing. *« I am re you will excuse her, ma'am," he explained turning to Mrs. Charnock. "My wife is not in good health, and she 1. very subject to a kind of giddiness when she first comes down of a morning." The Squire's lady having added her entreaties to his Mrs. Fleetwood was induced to lie down, and submitted,' with the languid pleasure with which an invalid usually accepts such attention in the presence of an interested onlooker, to the comfortable adjustment of her cushions and the covering of her feet with a shawl. Simon, who had assisted in carrying out these arrangements, now obeyed a sig-nal to wi>JirIra«r qpH ^■-♦■u-- i respecttully took their leave of their guest. Mrs. Fleetwood had closed her eyes for a moment— T m 1:1 38 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. partly because she was really feeling weak and giddy, and partly because she was determined that the fact should not pass unnoticed — and was surprised when she opened them to discover that Madam Charnock's were full of tears. A pang of acute personal anxiety shot through her — did she really look so very ill ? She had been ill so long — but sometimes strangers saw things. " Do you think ? " she stammered, without pausing to consider her words — "Oh, Madam, do you think that I am going to die?" " No, no," said Mrs. Charnock, speaking soothingly ; "you look, of course, delicate, but delicate people, you know, live the longest, particularly when they are taken such good care of. These foolish tears of mine come for quite another reason — a very selfish reason, which I must not trouble you about. Every one, you know, has their troubles." "Oh," sighed Mrs. Fleetwood, "that is indeed too true" — and she turned up her pretty pale eyes. The other glanced at her quickly, and for a moment an expression of surprise, dashed with something like indignation, passed over her face. " Surely," she said, after a pause, " with the exception of your ill-health you have no troubles ? I must not, in- deed," she went on more gently, "fail to sympathise with you in what must be very trying, very painful, but still — oh, when I saw that good, kind husband of yours carry you in, and when I saw his devotion and that of your boy, I thought within myself that surely you must be the happiest woman alive." Mrs. Fleetwood sat up, too much taken aback at first to speak ; she had never hitherto considered her position " You do not know my circumstances, perhaps," she said presently. " I — I made a great mesalliance in YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 39 marrying Mr. Fleetwood. I am a gentlewoman by birth— my family was formerly much considered in Yorkshire. Mr. Fleetwood was not my equal, but," she added in an apologetic tone, " I was all alone in the world, and I did not know what to do or how to live, and he was so kind. He has always done his very best to make up to me for the change in my circumstances ; you cannot think how generous and considerate he is. But of course, I cannot help feeling that I have cut myself off from my proper sphere. I am nothing but a yeoman's wife : nobody visits me, no one recognises that I have the right to move in good society. I have not a single friend. So you see I am not so happv as you think." "I do not see," returned Madam Charnock a little coldly, "why that should be— with a husband who adores you, who is gentle, courteous, chivalrous— ah, madam, I can tell you many of his so-called superiors could learn a lesson from him! With such a son as yours— Heavens ! how many mothers would give their heart's blood for such a son !— what do such small things matter?" " It is very lonely," murmured Mrs. Fleetwood, anxious to justify herself "Lonely!" echoed the other vehemently. "There are different kinds of loneliness, I suppose, just as there are different kinds of happiness. Some people, you know, have to leave kindred and country to dwell among strange folk and adapt themselves to strange customs. They may see company in abundance, but surely the people who come and go can best be called acquaintances, one has left one's friends behind. Still while one retains the love of husband and child one cannot say one is lonely. See," she added with a little laugh, that somehow sounded very sad, " I have been talking of my own case. ii 40 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I have, you see, some little troubles — I, too, have some- times missed all that I used to know and love in my own country; at times when I realise how very, very far away I am, the tears will come." " But surely sometimes, madam," said Mrs. Fleetwood, " you visit France — the journey is not such a very tedious one." " France is not my country," explained Mrs. Charnock. "The people here, I fancy," she pursued with a smile, " set down every foreigner as French. But I am Hungarian. My country is a long way off, and the journey thither is complicated and difficult. But, after all, these are minor things; one can always be happy in doing one's duty." " It is indeed sad, madam, that you have no son," said Mrs. Fleetwood, reverting to what she justly felt was her visitor's greatest sorrow ; " but your little angel of a daughter " " Ah, yes ; I myself am quite haony with my child. My greatest grief is the disappoin* . t to my husband. But it is the will of God, and we u^d^i submit." Then, assuming a lighter tone, she changed the subject. This conversation had a great effect upon Mrs. Fleet- wood. It opened her eyes, not only to the fact that even Squires' ladies had their troubles, but that her union with this great kind yeoman husband was con- sidered a very enviable matter rather than a fatal mis- take. The subsequent visits of Madam Charnock — often repeated, for she was urged to such acts of kind- ness by the great pleasure evinced by the sickly little woman, and also by her own interest in the unusual household — had a most beneficial influence on the recipient. Fretful and unreasonable Mrs. Fleetwood would always be, but she seemed on the whole more contented, and to a certain extent appreciated the kind- YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 41 ness and tenderness with which for so many years she had been surrounded. The yeoman's indulgence increased, as time went by, to such an extent that Miss Belinda found it impossible to refrain from remonstrating with him. She had with difficulty held her peace when he had purchased the chaise, and had long murmured in secret over his senseless coddling and cosseting of her sister-in-law; but when it came to his converting the best bedroom into a sitting-room for her especial use, actually carpeting the polished floor, and painting the oak-panelled walls, in the periodical rubbing-up of which she herself had not disdained to assist, she felt that it was time to speak out her mind. Her brother, however, was firm, even peremptory ; desiring her some- what sharply not to interfere with his arrangements, and on no account to annoy his wife by protestations on the subject. Such was life. Miss Belinda meditated in bitterness of spirit ; a body got no thanks for taking an interest in things. Goodness knew if she did not take an interest in that house everything would go to rack and ruin. Sister Fleetwood thought of nothing but herself and her own megrims ; there would never be a single gooseberry bottled, nor so much as a drop of elderberry wine made from one year's end to the other, if she did not see to it herself And as to the painting of the oak panels, she reckoned she had a good right to complain, for had she not been born in that very room ? And that was more than her sister-in-law could boast of. Meanwhile, the transformation effected, if somewhat barbarous from an aesthetic point of view, did, no doubt, lend the room a cheerful appearance. When Mrs. Fleet- wood finally took possession of it, and glanced round at the buff walls, the carpet with its bunches of roses, and the bright chintzes, her delight and gratitude knew no bounds. 42 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "You are very good to me, Husband," she said, glancing up at him affectionately as he stood by her couch. He stooped and kissed her, and then turned away somewhat abruptly, for his eyes had grown suddenly dim, as they had often done of late when they rested on her. Mrs. Fleetwood, however, noticed nothing, and when the Squire's lady came to see the pretty new room her joy was complete. Little Rachel, too, was quite delighted with the room. She often came to sit with Mrs. Fleet- wood, who took endless pleasure in teaching her some of the pastimes which occupied so many of her own hours. How to make spills with wonderful feathery tops, and shell-boxes, and little pasteboard houses covered with the pith of rushes, with gravel walks made of sand and glittering ore, and little pith men and women inside. " She was growing a tall girl now, and would soon have to go to school," her mother said with a sigh. When Simon came home for the holidays that year, he was struck by a certain increase of gravity in his father's look and manner which surprised him, for otherwise the home atmosphere seemed to him brighter than usual. There was a splendid harvest to begin with, and the colts which Mr. Fleetwood intended to dispose of at Ormskirk Fair would reflect credit on him as a breeder of such cattle. Then he liked the sunny little pa-lour upstairs. It was pleasant to sit there quietly with his mother, without Aunt Binney fussing in and out — for that lady steadfastly adhered to a resolution, first formed in angry disappointment, of never setting foot in that desecrated chamber — and his mother herself seemed so much more cheerful and content. Her altered de- meanour, indeed, encouraged Simon to hope that she would accede to a certain petition which he meant to make before his vacation came to an end. ii YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 43 This was his last year at Eton, and he was glad at the prospect of leaving, for his life there had been much less pleasant since his quarrel with young Humphrey Charnock. Humphrey was an ungenerous enemy, and had managed to alienate many of Simon's favourite companions from him on their return to school, after the dispute on the ice. Boys for the most part are not snobbish, but some of his schoolfellows could not help being influenced by Humphrey's fancy pictures of Simon's home and parents, and, as their altered attitude towards him caused him to assume a proud and somewhat defiant demeanour, he was soon set down as an insolent upstart. He had made no complaint, however, had forborne to retaliate on Humphrey— who had, indeed, been careful to refrain from any open attack— and had merely held himself aloof from those who despised him. But he was, never- theless, keenly conscious of his anomalous position, and, moreover, aware that the course of education marked out for him was ill-adapted to his future position in life. He meant, if possible, to avoid the college career which was to succeed his term at Eton. One day his opportunity came for discussing the matter with his father. They had gone together to show the colts before alluded to to a neighbour, a farmer in a large way, though not of such high standing as Mr. Fleetwood. When they set forth together, Mrs. Fleet- wood, looking down from her mullioned window, felt something that was almost pride as she contemplated her son. He was now nearly eighteen, and as tall as his father. Simon's shoulders, too, were like his, but his figure, besides the litheness and suppleness of youth, possessed a certain grace which must have always been absent from the vi^nman'c t^"^ po...-;orfo ^^r tu^ u i actually reminded Mrs. Fleetwood of her own father's, and her heart gave a throb of joy as she realised that' m 44 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ifiiir: after all, the Weston blood was beginning to tell in this stalwart son of hers. But when burly Farmer Rushton met the pair in the great pasture, his talk was at first all of the extraordinary likeness between father and son. Simon drove up for his closer inspection the three-year- old colt which they were already beginning to handle and train, and when, after a little preliminary fondling and soothing, he vaulted on the noble creature's back and made it carry him at break-neck speed round the field, the enthusiasm of the good fellow knew no bounds. " Eh, Neighbour Fleetwood, he's a rare 'un, he is, for sure. A true chip o' th' owd block he is. Never see sich a seet i' my life. Eh, yo' mun be proud on him." Mr. Fleetwood thrust his thumbs into the pockets of his flowered waistcoat and chuckled. " Well, I am a bit proud, I'll own it," he said. " I couldn't do what he does now, but I'm very near as pleased to see him doing it. It brings back old times and makes me young again." " He mun be gettin' on now, isn't he? My word, I'd finished my schoolin' long before I was half his height. Yo'll be for gettin' him awhoam soon, wunnot you ? " "Aye, he'll soon have finished school, but there's college to come next. He must put in a matter of three years there before he comes home for good." "College? Why, what do yo' reckon to make of him?" " He'll follow in my footsteps, won't ye, lad ? " said Mr. Fleetwood, as Simon, having finished his course round the field, and dismissed his steed with a resounding pat or two, now joined them. "Yes, that I will," agreed the lad warmly. "I'll follow as close as ever I can." " Well said ! '' cried the friend, clapping him on the shoulder. " Well, neighbour, every man knows his own YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 45 business best, but I should ha' thought it waste o' time to send that chap to college. All the Latin and Greek in the world won't help wi' th' farmin'. And as for figures— i' my opinion, them new fangled ways o' con- trivm' wi' figures is good for nought but to addle a man's brains. Why, what wi' X's and crosses and dashes and dots, It's fair moiderin'. And at the end of it all ye can't prove theer's more nor twenty hundredweight to a ton ! '■' ^ Simon looked eagerly at his father, but the latter's eyes were bent on the ground. "There are reasons, you see," he said hesitatingly special reasons, in Simon's case." He changed the subject abruptly, but Simon resumed It when he was alone with Mr. Fleetwood. As they were walking across the pasture together, after the departure of their friend, he said diffidently,— "My dear father, I cannot help feeling that Mr Rushton is right. I wish you and my mother could be persuaded to give up the idea of sending me to college. "What," cried the yeoman, smiling good-naturedly if a little constrainedly, " tired o' the books already? " " Nay, sir, I like the books well enough, but I should have preferred to make their acquaintance in another place. "Why, I thought you were getting on first rate yonder. "I have got on tolerably well," returned the lad gravely, « but you see, sir, I am not and never shall be a gentleman. I come of yeoman stock-I am a true chip of the old block, as Mr. Rushton says, and 1 do not think it will ever take polish." "Aye, aye?" said the yeoman thoughtfully. "I am in my proper place here," pursued Simon. iWlBM! '!i 46 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "All that you do I can do, and like doing. I fancy that I could even do many things that you do not think it necessary to put your own hand to. I can drive a team — I almost imagine that I could plough a furrow. "Could you indeed, Simon?" said Mr. Fleetwood, pausing and turning so as to face him, "Aye, lad, I reckon that kind of thing runs in the blood." " I breathe freely here," cried his son eagerly. " I feel myself at ease. Do but listen to me, sir." The father had thrown his arm affectionately round his son's neck, and now tapped his shoulder lightly. " You are forgetting one thing, my lad — my promise to your mother." " I know — I have thought of it — but could you not reason with her — explain to her." "Nay, nay," returned Mr. Fleetwood gravely and gently. " There's sense enough in what you say, but I cannot go back on my promise. First, because I have never yet broken my word to your mother, and, secondly, because I am particularly anxious to spare her all annoy- ance just now. My dear lad, I am loth to grieve you, but you must know it sooner or later — I fear me your poor mother is not long for this world." " Oh, Father, are you sure ? " Tears were springing to Simon's blue eyes. " I thought," he went on falteringly — " my mother has always been so delicate — as long as I can remember she has been complaining — I thought, I almost hoped " "You thought it was nothing worse than woman's vapours," said his father, putting into words what he had not ventured to say outright. '* Nay, be not so shamefaced, Simon, there's more than thee have made the same mistake. I myself— but there's no use in talking of that now. It may not be for some time yet, so the physician from Ormskirk tells me; she might YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 47 even last for years, or she may be taken from us in a few months, but we must make up our minds to lose her boy." His honest, kindly face worked and his voice shook ; had this poor little peevish, useless wife of his been the most admirable of helpmeets his heart could not have been more wrung at the prospect of losing her. " You may count on me," said Simon in a low voice, " to do all in my power to please her— while I can." They clasped hands in silence and then walked quietly on. The shadow of Death had fallen for the first time across Simon's path, and it seemed to him that all the world was dark with it. After a time, glancing at his father and noting the anguish still so plainly discernible m the rugged face, he impulsively endeavoured to console him. "Take comfort, Dad ; with such care as she is like to have my dear mother may perhaps be spared to us many years. She looks better than I have seen her for some time, and is certainly brighter and happier." "Aye, yeVe noticed that, have ye, lad? I have thought so, too, of late, and thanked God for it And have you observed, Simon, how gentle she speaks to me now, and how she seems to turn to me? I feared sometimes," he went on naively, " that it might not be altogether a good sign-but I don't know but what it may be after all." "Ah," broke out Simon, "how can she fail to turn to you ? Good Lord, when I think of your forbearance your tenderness, your devotion ! Surely my mother is the happiest wife in all the world ! " "No, no, Simon, I doubt if one can say that Ye 3ns i wronged her in marryin* man now, and I think no harm of nind plain to thee. See thou, Simon. see. with th^ h«^cf ,v,<-« spe 48 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. i»> ' I had no right to marry her— 'twas well meant, but 'twas cruel. I thought to do her a kindness in per- suading her to take me, for you see, Simon, she'd neither father nor mother, poor soul, and scarce a penny i' th' world. I thought her relations 'ud be well enough pleased to know she was provided for at no cost to themselves ; but instead of that they made such a to-do as never was, and cast her off, one and all. I shouldn't ha' hurried her, ye see— 1 should have given he- time to think and talk it over with her friends." ^ There was a pause, the elder man walking medita- tively along with his hands behind him ; the younger struggling with many conflicting emotions. He had always worshipped his father, and there were times when, in his young enthusiasm, he could have fallen at his feet ; this was one of them. By-and-bye he said in a somewhat unsteady voice : — " After all, would any one have cherished her as you did ? " " There's comfort in that— aye, there's comfort in that. Another man, perhaps, might not have understood her so well. There be folks, Simon," went on the yeoman, with burning indignation, " who think it a sign of weak- ness to be considerate to a woman ; selfish bullies, lad, who brag about being masters in their own homes. One can be master without being tyrant ; and believe me, lad, it is no sign of weakness to be gentle with the weak— it is the other way round. Bear it in mind, my boy, be gentle because you are strong." All his life long Simon remembered his father's words; they fell indeed upon generous ground, where they were likely to fructify. But, as far as his mother was concerned, he needed not to alter his attitude ; his affection for her, though differing in kind and decree from the love awarded to his father, had always been VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. „ deep and devoted, but now it took on a new tenderness and sohctude^ He watched her almost as anxious^ a Mr Fleetwood eager to anticipate her needs, and ever fearful least she should fatigue or injure h^rsdf It happened thus that one sultry summer's night, fanning that he heard unusual sounds proceeding from h s parS room, he crept softly to the door and listened-couM she be worse, what was that sound within ' wallav."n!! w>K 'T """' ^-^^heart," his fathers voice was saymg with the crooning tenderness a nurse mi^ht use o a s.ck child. " Eh, it's bad to sleep so il Come Ld of it" """ °"'' ""g-*ou must be not car^; m'*' ''"^ '^'T^'^ ^'""""'^ """her. ■■ But do g.ddy Carry me up and down from one end of the room to the other-and then across " rolnt;"' '"'" ''' ''?""' '■"' '"''■ Now, wrap this shawl round thee— come, let's start " .viMn t'd'Th* '^ "''""■! '^ =''P ^°""^«^ f™"- *e room voce which t'/'""'! '^^'" '° '^°" '" "is deep bass vo.ce, which had once been a fine one, a certain dittv rt g" V 7o°^ ? ' '""' "' ""^-^ "™'y -d P^'hetic. J he gay, foohsh verses succeeded each oth»r There "uth°r^'",f '^°"' 'P'"''"^' " '" "^ ™""y «'"e of ^uth, and about somebody sitting on somebody else's .ee, and the refrain trailed away in the minor :- I'll hang my harp on the hollow willow tree And may the world fare well with thee, Well with thee ! As he listened *st*m/->« c^uu^j ^- ._•„ .-. 50 CHAPTER IV. To these, whom death again did wed, This grave's their second marriage-bed. For though the hand of Fate could force 'Twixt soul and body a divorce, It could not sunder man and wife, 'Ciise they both lived but one life. — Crashaw, Though the anxiety of her husband and son did ^.ot decrease as time went by, there was no material change in Mrs. Fleetwood's condition for more than three y vars ; but when Simon returned definitely to the Farni, after taking his degree, he was conscious that the disea„j so long held in check had made subtle ravages. After the first glance at his mother's face his eyes instinctively sought his father's, and he understood without need of words that the time now remaining to her could not be long. She herself, however, seemed to be in good spirits, and received Simon with real affection and pleasure. He had brought her, as a present on this his home- coming, two large china jars which he had picked up in a curiosity shop at Oxford, and the pattern of which pretty nearly matched some china already in her posses- sion. " They will just do for pot-pourri," she cried. " I have not made any this year, and you know there is a special receipt in my family. All our friends used to beg for it. I am impatient to begin to makft it while the roses last. Dear me, I want so many things for it— I must have benzoin, storax, cassia-buds — and then VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,, cardamom and vanilla. You have some oil of jasmin and attar of roses, have you not. Sister Belinda?" could begm to-morrow if I only had the spices." husb°nd"«fofl 'h T^" ^°"' ™^ '°^^' ^-d h- husband for I have business in Liverpool to-morrow and will bring them back." "urrow, He was gone early on the following morning, which proved so bright an ! sunny that Mrs. Fleetwood^Iatis faction was complete. "One could not have better weather for pot-pourri Tm'"^Cv'' '"^'''■™^''' ■""•°'' -■* the gle'^of a ^ gath r!d"arH ' '"°"' '™°"' '"^^ ''^ ^^ ^^-Id be gathered as dry as possible. If only your father would come back early enough to carry me ound the garden, we would gather them to-day" Cannot I carry you, Mother?" asked Simon "I am as tall as my father, and quite as strong^ ' She looked up at him smiling. '< True tnT^ i rT? ul'°" "^'^ ^ ^™- man n^r^ shoX like It of all things, Simon." He lifted her up, carefully arranging her white kerchief Tert: teit:!::'"H: tr'"^'''^ -"• -<^ -^^^ emotion in thus^'b:^.,"^: !^s aTms^rmXraTd'':! e glanced down at her face he saw a new tenderness in enough .liat youf father^h^Lld Jt-I'l^^^Td being taken care of by him. But you Staon' U seems but the other day that I was crvin<^'K fathpi- ha^ -, . Q- ci^yng because your latner had cut off your curk v^.i . .-^ ... . . of course, you we^e so young th^nlut^lt'XT' "r' thought I should have broke my heart " "™" ' iiii 52 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Simon did remember, better, perhaps, than she did ; but all the bitterness which the recollection might have con- tained died away at once and for ever at the sound of the weak little laugh, and at the caressing touch upon his face of the wasted little hand. As it passed his lips he kissed it passionately, and she looked up into his hand- some face with pride as well as tenderness. " My fine son ! " she said. " My tall, strong son ! " He carried her round the garden, picking his way amid the labyrinth of box-bordered paths, and pausing ever and anon before a rose-tree. Then his mother lifted her head from his shoulder and inspected it from beneath the shelter of her kerchief ; sometimes the bush in question was condemned, and sometimes Simon had to s.oop with her that she might herself touch, examine, and smell the roses. When she had made her selection he was to deposit her on a couch in the shade, and to collect the flowers she had chosen. It happened that before they had completed their round Madam Chamock came stepping daintily across the grass-plot and paused under the big yew tree to survey the scene. As she gazed, the old wound in her heart throbbed painfully. She knew the woman before her had not long to live, yet it seemed to her for a moment that she would willingly change places with her. Many a time afterwards did the vision rise before her of that sunlit garden : the long lines of bloom thrown into relief by the yew hedge, the tall figure of the young man, the handsome face bending with such eager solici- tude over the frail little mother — it was all stamped upon her memory. This woman, too, had besought the Lord to give her a man-child, and the petition had been denied. Since the death, long years before, of her stalwart soldier father she had not known what it was to meet in the eyes of man a look of protecting YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 53 tenderness such as that which the stripling before her was bestowing on his mother. She pressed her hands upon her bosom with an involuntary httle sob, and then turnmg swiftly, went away all unperceived by the othei^ two. ^ Simon, too, long remembered that summer's day and the subsequent making of the pot-pourri which had so pleased and mteresled his mother; the layers of rose leaves spread out in her sunny window-seat, the faint, sweet smell of the gums and spices which pervaded the whole house the small figure, propped up with cushions, so eagerly directmg, the thin hands so busy and yet so weak He remembered how once the wedding-ring had slipped from theemaciated finger, and gone circling found and round on the fine rose-patterned carpet, faUing at en, h almost at his father's feet. He remembered Lw ha.tdy h,s father had picked it up and restored it to iti place, and then how quickly he had gone out of the Si^nnM;''! T^'""^ f """ P°'-P°"'-ri it often seemed to S.mon that h,s youth had come to an end, for those bnght summer days were followed by very dark ones. The mvahd sank rapidly, and Simon, who had been bracmg h.mself to bear manfully his own sorrow andlhe overpowenng grief of his father, was of a sudden sub! jected to a trouble far heavier than that which he had previously anticipated. For early in a wet and windv autumn Mr. Fleetwood fell dangerously ill. Hoi r^Z pened „o one could tell-he had never known even a day's vet tC, 7 ^'"^^^''"°" ™"ld remember; he had bee.i wet h ough one afternoon, indeed, and had not changed hs clothes for some hours, but then the same thing had , , , , **"^ "" iiuriii naa resulted. He had had broken nights, no doubt, and many anxious day^ when he cared neither to eat nor to take his accustom^ 54 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. exercise, and these may possibly have impaired his vig- orous constitution, but, from whatever cause, the effect was serious and alarming. Even the apothecary, hastily summoned, declared himself apprehensive. That great broad chest of Mr. Fleetwood was attacked, there was inflammation, not in one lung but in both, great pain, violent fever— he was of opinion that Mr. Simon would do well to seek further advice. A mounted messenger was despatched forthwith to Ormskirk to summon the physician who had already attended Mrs. Fleetwood, and, meanwhile, Simon, poor lad! wandered distractedly from one sick-room to the other. Mrs. Fleetwood's little strength was ebbing fast ; they had thought it well to conceal from her the serious nature of her husband's illness, and she had not ceased to call for him, at first fretfully, then anxiously, and at each renewal of the appeal Simon's heart was wrung within him. Yet he could better endure to hear this weak lament than his father's groans, between spasms of pain, at the mis- chance which had thus laid him by the heels at the very time when his wife most needed him. " If she gets worse I must go to her, you know," he said, turning his eyes piteously towards his son. *• Only think, boy, I have watched and waited on her all these years— and to be away from her at the last — it is not to be borne ! " A woman, perhaps, would have bethought her of some way of soothing such anxiety, but poor Simon, thoroughly convince himself that his mother's last moments were fast approaching, could only look down at him with his miserable blue eyes and keep silence. The longed-for visit of the great doctor, though eminently satisfactory to the apothecary, whose treatment of the case he was good enough to commend, brought little comfort to any one else. The drastic measures YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jj in vogue at the time were again resorted to; Mr Fleetwood was cupped and blistered and dosed with emet.c tartar; but the doctor looked at him gravely and warned Simon of his being in a very dangerous sute As to the other patient, he pronounc'^d caLid" that there was nothing to be done for her. The poor husband showed more anxiety on her account than on fh»7V°" "''" '^" "' *"' '^^ •' ''^te^ ^i^ or even that she ,s not much worse, you need not trouble about me ; I shall soon be well." Gravely and compassionately considering him the doctor rephed that Mrs, Fleetwood's conditln wis no wo se than was to be expected at the actual stage of her malady, and the good yeoman, too straightforward himself o be aware of the frequency with which words are made was r'?K '"^" '''" '° '°"'^y '"-^ --' -eaning! was, for the tune, satisfied. But towards evening he became very restless and uneasy; stretching out of a f MoThr ''■', '"^"^ '"""^ '''"'''■ "^ -^ked Simon H Mother were asleep. snn^^!l^ T "°' '^^^" ' '"=' '^"^ ^^'- ^"■'" returned his the truth ■" " ""'"' °""'""^ '° 'P'^^ ^"y">'"S but •'^L'"",T ^° '° *""■■" '^'^ ^'- F'^etwood decisively. She w,ll not rest without I'm then- Simon. She wants me— I carry her about when the pain's bad " voirh J^"',"' J^^ ''°"°'' '^'"^ y"" ""^''""f •"•■■• from jourbed. I will go to her if you will only pn, to ■e quiet I can carry her about as well as y..„ ,ou know. I have often done so." ^ '• I doubt if that will satisfy her," returned Mr. Fleet- wood faintly, " but thou can trv " ' root^anH^f °^i^"'Tr '° ''*^" ^'" P'^<^='" ^'^ '■"""^^''^ room, and betook himself to what he already felt to be 56 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. the chamber of death. His mother's heavy eyelids were h'fted as he entered, and she looked expectantly towards him as he crossed the room. " Is it you, Husband ? " she gasped, and a look of piteous disappointment overspread her face as she saw that it was her son. He bent over her. " My father is not very well to-night, but we hope he will be quite himself to-morrow. Cannot I carry you about a little, dearest Mother, if you cannot rest.? " She shook her head feebly. " I want your father,'' she said. "Oh, Simon, go and tell him that he must come." Simon looked distractedly at his aunt, who made warning signs to him from behind the curtain and accompanied him towards the door as Mrs. Fleetwood closed her eyes. "La, how little gumption men have, to be sure," whispered she when they were out of earshot. " Can't ye pretend to go and fetch him, lad ? One half of the time she doesn't know what she is saying. We shall just have to keep humouring her." Simon crept back to his father's side, and was much relieved to find that he had fallen into a feverish doze. Night came, and this drowsy state continued. Except for Mr. Fleetwood's heavy breathing and occasional sharp hacking cough, there was no sound in the room. The rushlight flickered and burnt low, and Simon renewed it and lit another. As the fresh gleam fell across the bed Mr. Fleetwood stirred, and presently laughed. Poor Simon's blood froze in his veins ; any groan of anguish would have been preferable to such a sound at such a moment. •' Why, Simon, lad," said his father in a cheerful tone, painfullv at vari3nrf> u/i'fh fV.« Iok^.,_^j I ..!_-•._ 1 . . r .- ..(..,, ixiv lau^juicu UlCiiCIling WlliCil every now and then interrupted it, "ye've got a bonny YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 57 lot, for sure. What are vm, «^4- Maiden's BlushT ThevVe th. T"^ '° ^''^ ""^ thinkin', and the oreWe^ 1 '""'"'' °^ ^" '° "y mother's cheek '' P^'""=^'-'he very colour of thy roo™rer'th7wa'y°L'S^ "^^ ^''^"- ^^""^ ^^^ '" '^e "I've ^nT „ ^'„ u ^'°^"'"^ "''"''" himself. hi. hJky'^okTn "i^:;;--;!^, ^-'-wood in ;em all up in one packet. I was af^j' ^r"'" ""l ^;e™^m.eend. Xakt:r:ir;:%~X-; se^^r.:rhrpte:n?::,rto-.^^^^^^^^^ father's w nderings "th^e": L t'"" '"='"^' ^"'^ "^'^ It seemed to himfstrani ? f" ^^°">' °f fe^"-- ment of the maTadv a„f T' '^^"^^''"'' '^^'^^°P- quite unable to cone H°"' ""'^ "'^"'' ""^ ''^" himself - a„, hecLS-to "MlrLS!' '° '' ■"°"'- My lather is wanderino- " k^ • j . " He does not know 1 ^r' "■"'' '""^^'hlessly Richmond at once He Ini ^°'"^' '° """'^"^ ^I'' Belmda. what shaH we do! " ^'-"S^-oh, Aunt ^rnj„'^':a::rT' ''''-'^ ^"^ p-^^' ■•" ^^ plucking at the sheet """^ """"'"^ '° '''"'-'f-d -aridicrup2srmi^'.?r'; t "'"' '""■■"s ^ don't like that'^fa^hforpullin^It thtsh:;f '^L "h d' ^'gn. I'll call Susan to sit her. t,n .„„ , ii, 7' l'^'"^ ^.^ju,d my mother P" queried poor Simon wiu. white 58 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Your mother is quieter this last hour or so ; she kept callin' and calhn' for your father the first part of the night, but she has given over now." " Oh, Aunt Binney," cried the lad, scarce knowing what he said, "you musn't let her die till I come back"! If my father cannot be with her, I must. Oh. poor Mother!" ^ He hurried off' b. the stable, put the horse in the gig, and d'Qv/e a? fast ■ • he could urge the bewildered animal through the nignt to the village, where after some difficulty he succeeded in arousing the apothecary. The few minutes' delay necessary before that functionary could appear Criused Simon to chafe with impatience, and when he at last approached he seized him by the arm and puiled him without ceremony into the gig. "I'll tell you what the matter is as we go along," he cried, whipping up the horse. The dawn was breaking when they arrived at the Farm, and Miss Belinda met them on the doorstep. " My dear nephew," she cried, " I scarce know how to tell you what has happened." Simon threw the reins on the horse's back and jumped to the ground, the animal making its way round to the stable by itself. " Not dead ? " he cried hoarsely. " No, no ; they are both alive, thank God ! But, my dear, they are both together. Not above half an hour after you left your mother stirred and began callin' again for her husband ; and all of a sudden I heard somebody fumbling at the door, and in walked your father. Eh, Simon, I thought 'twas his ghost, he looked so tall and awful wi' his white face and his fixed eyes ! He came stumblin' an' staggerin' across the room, and j^--. — ,j,... .,.^ acu. X vc c-v7ii;c, svvccLiicart, saia ne. 'I know you can't rest— I've come to sing to you. I'll VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. sing in a minute or two' sflv« h« « u breath'. He made a shm 'to Hft h^r' • T ' ^"' ""^ was too weak, ye kno^and hf felun ^^ T' ""' "^^ wer^ fh,; K . '"" "^''^'' f^^^'™ Susan-her eves sTsyt; thr^idtd""" ^'"^.'™r' ""^ ^= ^^^ -" uy rne bed and never heard him stir" e4, ::L"heTuledta:tT- " '"^ '"'' °^ '"^'^ ^'"'"^ Stairs Th.. -^r . P^ ^'' ^""^' ^"d hastened up- £ .^:Toort,ntar— ^^^^^^ weTa^XtrZltp^f^'-^-'^-P'^- "Shan him^now"''' '"'' '™ '■" P^^^^- Nothing can hurt «e:«l7°rtTe •: Sji^'* "-^ ^--^ -- almost arJ trLT/;!'^''" ^^'■'' '*"= ^^'^--y- "*^X raife°d h'e"' tld'^'n ^ "l''"- ^''''^^^^ ^' *at moment pniow so as tf I ' -r"* 'r^'^^"' '='^°'-'- ""'^-d on the often fid r«"T;l°".^'^ shoulder where it had so his semi-utrLu?.:r:°";:!:;ri'^f.''-^-<^ f- down with a ^^„t\,""'.l- '""" ""' ""Set^ "P and deavourjd to\. P "^ movement, and he en- deavoured to murmur something, almost inarticulately 6o YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. however. But Simon, bending low, caught the words :— A ^'i' ^^^^ ™y ^^'■P °" ^^^ hollow willow tree And may the world— may the world I cannot remember the words to-night, love, but I will carry you— I will carry you just now ". " What is he saying? " inquired Mr. Richmond, cran- ing his head forward from the foot of the bed. Simon raised himself with a white, convulsed face. " Go out of the room," he cried, " if you can do no good.* I will not have you prying at them. And now. Aunt Bmney and Susan," he added, when the other had with- drawn, much affronted, " kneel down. Good God ! how can you stand gaping at them when they are at the gates of Eternity?" They all knelt down, and Simon, clasping his hands, began in firm, manly tones, "Let us pray " and then, being but a lad, after all, on the point of losing all which he had hitherto cherished and clung to, his self-possession deserted him, and he fell a-sobbing. But they were beyond the reach of his voice ; they had gone far on the long journey which the little mother had so much dreaded. The gates were open which were soon to close behind them both ; but she had no fear now, for the loving arms which had so long sustained her were clinging close about her— they would carry her all the wa'-. 6i PART II. THE TREE. CHAPTER V. She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight • A lovely Apparition, sent ' To be a moment's ornament ; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair: Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair • But all things else about her drawT' From May-time and the cheerful dawn. —Wordsworth. wo'od wired :;:r h? ''^V''^'-^^'^^ Si.on F,eet. stubble-land .ndTh^ourrH-' "'" "'^ '""•°^^' ^^ dusk his eye'took now? h '"^ "'""• ^™" '" 'he registered certah ! r kV"7°""'''"S^ ^"^ h'^ """d a/i^protrnTto b \r^d'lte^f r r T"^' to be repaired yonder Th/lS '^ "^gligence n-an F-eetwood'hada' Jdt: fo^Sr""^" ^t°- labourers knew that th^,, ™"°"ghead of hisown; his his youth or of =. . . ^ " "°' '^''^ advantage of overtooL hTm for thorn^rr"' ''""■' ""^'^'^ -'»^^-« he knew a "^et dea td tVf ""■^''' '^'^ "•"'« were very wil!'ie' H. ^''" '''"" ^^^ °f his as the old^aster tL " T "f '° ^^''^ '" his ways hin. iust J^]} t:^t^^'^^^ I'^y Wed was less sociable and neighbourly than Ws'fl.h^'fo "' -on,es of the latter opined ; t.^ fond or^fbo'SZ li 62 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. »^^: careless of good company. They liked a chap of his years to have a bit more go in him. An occasi il merry evening at the Charnocl< Arms would have cc ne more natural to him than poring of a night over his dull old books ; but he was a fine young chap there was no denymg that, and as steady as a rock. If he would marry and settle he would be right enough-he must have a poor life of it yonder with only that old maid to bear him compa. /. But hitherto Simon had shown no great lik.ng for female society ; and now, as he walked homewards through the mist, he was thinking within himself that he was very lonely. He knew exactly what awaited him yonder at the Farm-just what had awaited him every night these six years. Dolly would appear in the passage to take his coat ; Susan would emerge from the kitchen to say that the supper would spoi' Aunt Binney s voice would inquire shrilly if he were very wet They would have then evening meal together, during which she would relate such household news as she con- sidered of interest to him ; later on she would sit on one side of the hearth, darning his socks, and he would sit on trie other, reading er casting up accounts. She would retire early, and he wo.vd follow her example in course of time. In spring and summei lae programme was varied by his going out after su.per. b otherwise the seasons brought no change to this rouuue. unless when at rare intervals a friend dropped in, or he himself paid his respects to sme one m the neighbourhood. But he felt out of his element on any other man's hearth ^han his own : for as time passed the words idly spoken by his mo^^^r often returned to his mind: "We are neither fish, flesh, nor fowl!" With his mature gr >wth certain inherit 1 msfncts had declared themselves, instincts as in..uenu-al m cheir way as those transmitted to him by I YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. g his father. He hari u^^ 1..S boyhood, ,et h-s 'ZZXtZ;' T? '"""^ now in his grave and melancholvt f '^ *""'' ^""^ making themselves felt. A cerl-„T^°^°^ *^^ '^^^^ reserve caused him to hold »U r r '^"'"^"'"^"ess and though he was totally devoid oh u""' P^«'^' »"d form part of a superior cirofocetrh"' "^""^ '° less frequency aware of his 01^^?' '^^^ "everthe- books which at one ^n,e he h f"^ ^''''°"- The differently had now become h' K T'^"''""^ ''"' ■""- only devoted to them hour, which"' t"'^' *°"Sh ^e be employed, for he was ^b^vfal "a fa"' °''r'''^ were good old times indeed for th f™""' ^''°'= land, and Simon was one wh ' I '"^^°' °^ 'he *e most of an opportunitv V "" "* '° "'^^^ source of astonishment to L ^" P^^P^^X was a quiet satisfaction to Wmseif "<"e'''»"'-hood. and of hJitdCt't:^!''^'' '''' --^^^ "Pon .-ts the curious old blacVand wh t'"? '"' '°"'>'^^<' '^'""e of its existence the F.rmld K °'""- ^' ""'^ P^^od ■■"deed, been the re^Zce' th" 7^ "^'''" ^W Manor before it had n!l!4 ''"■''' "^ Charnleigh Chamocks, who had ch' fV'^ P™- of the venient site i;,r the ramM . '^ ''''"*'■*' ='nd con- now occupied by .he,V 1? ''"f """""dious dwelling had been established 'at the™ r^f '"'' ''"'"''°'^' hundred -ears, but at whl! "^ '"°' "'='" two forefathers had' purchLet'hrCold 7:.' •'™''"'^ '' .ad never cared to ascertain Hrf.*'" '^"^^ sometimes to meditate J,u. "^ ^'^^'^' however, he approached it n ,r 'tT''r''^f ''■■' ''°'"'= ' - gaWes, and wide smalt ^d ^1"!!'^'^ ^' ''^ 1"-' "-•^•ch such ruddy St earn, r ;;'""""^' ^^rn some of ™-V..deed,wartharwtich^':SedTfrrt,- liil 'Ji-i 1 k- .«i 64 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. line of windows m the oak-parlour that he was a little astonished. t wanted yet three weeks of November and suol. a thmg as a fire between April and Novemt; was unheard of under Miss Belinda's r,^;»e. He had actually the curiosity to make a circuit ro'und the horse block, and peer m at one of those uncurtained casements Two pairs of tall " mould " candles were actually burning ^eh P?"*^\'^''^^ candlesticks on mantelLlf and sideboard and there ^.. a fire-a roaring, crackling log fire on the wide hearth. His aunt was standing with her b.ck to the window, her head with its high clmb bobbing and waggling in evident agitation an! exa'e ment Hrs father's carved high-backed chair was wheeled forward close to the glowing hearth, but i aTrossT'^- ' '"".^ ^'"^^ "'>'■* •'^'^ been thrown across it Br,.k.ng in the comfortable radiance of the fire lay two ^reat dogs, and as Simon peered in he could see the steam rising from their damp" curly coats On the farther side of the hearth, directl/facinJhTm a lady was standing with one little foot poised on the high brass fender and holding in her hand a large black hat the draggled feathers of which she was shakfng outtfore was MadL cl! ' "J^T"' ^''"°" *°"S''' '"e visitor wa Madam Charnock ; but he recollected himself with a a"v but hTfi • '"° ^'^'^ ''"'' ^' ^""^ '^" '"at lady, but her figure ..as not so tall, and could never head wfth' : Tf^ '"f^"'" ■' ^"^ "^-g" *e I ttk head w,th Its clustering dark curls bore some resem- blance to what hers had been when he first beheld her that JthT's '" ''%'"^'"^' "" '""^^ ""'"^^ «>an Hke that of the Squire's foreign bride. Simon stood rooted o the r-ound, and his heart began to beat with a sudden mexplicable emotion. Did the first sight of Rachel Charnock standing by his own hearth cause him to fLl ".".. joy or pan, ? How long he remained immovable, fl, 1 . "iight be , VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. he never subsequently knew • . ■ "pon him with renewed v, oL^le'"," T ''""'"^ '^°'^" Wustenng round the corner /ht'. '^'"'P ""'"^ <=«•"« ne.then He was taking n'te o^th;"'"' '"' *■= "^''^'l of Rachel's face and figure of the, ""'"'^"^ ~"'°"^'' her white draperies; and he r.I u^' ^''"=''f"' ""« of throb of delight, that he hadn"" r"^' ^'''' ' ^"^den room by his mother's side wh. .' \""' ''" ">« very arched foot and its felW i^ C o '"' ""'^''^'^ "'-^ that he himself had warmed thn ? ""'" P^'™' ""d hands in his boyish bosom H° '^'"'^"- ""'k-white sensation of the little icy fin." VT""'''"^ ""^^ *« the,r touch upon his breast afd ,^ '"'""^^ '° f-«l was throbbing and burning ^" *"' ''^^^' beneath -^^^ at once Mis<; pk^ i eyesandlooked towards, I":^;^^'" "'''■'""^^'^ a fresh shock as he met them 17;.^""°" "P«"™ced h'm hke stars in his boyhood' th^ '' '"''' "'^"'"^d to hke than ever now. The° n,' ^ ^^P^"""^ ""re star- ■n the dread of being deleted In^r^""'^' '° "'^ ^-^w He dared not movf .T^^Zt.Tt'^'' P°^'''°"- merely been directed towards th *' ^'^"<^« had of mind, and that his ow„ sJltr""!'"' '" ^'"^ence °f the night would protect hip ""'' ""^ ''"''""s d.scomposure,alookof sulrt „ H '' '° '"'^ ^^'^^me the ovely face which had Wthert u """''""'"' "°'^-^- " i^'irst I ^ght you e master th m I ii £ 66 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. of the house prudently endeavouring to identify your visitor before you commit yourself by entering the room." " La, it's never Simon," exclaimed Miss Belinda. " Eh, come in, do lad ! Ye must be as wet as wet. But don't come in here whatever ye do wi' your wet clothes. There's a lady i' th' parlour, Simon." She was in the hall now, and Simon had divested him- self of hat and coat, and carefully wiped his great top- boots. Then, disregarding her injunctions, he made his way into the parlour, in the middle of which Rachel stood awaiting him. Their eyes were not on a level now, and as he approached her she had to raise hers quite a long way. The blush of confusion evoked by her dis- covery of him still lingered on his cheeks ; his eyes were bright and eager, and his light-brown hair waved crisply in spite of the raindrops which powdered it. His face fell a little when the young lady greeted him with another little smiling nod and a sort of pretence of a curtsey, appearing not to see the hand which Simon had half- outstretched, but in a moment or two he recovered him- self. " I must apologise," he said, " for looking in upon you thus. It was thoughtless of me, particularly as I may have alarmed you, madam." "I was not in the least alarmed, I thank you," she answered, moving towards the fire again, and raising the other little foot that it, too, might have its share of warmth. " But I think," he said with his grave smile, " you told me you took me for a robber." " Nay," she returned composedly, " I knew quite well all the time it could be no one but you." " Well, now, that surprises me," put in Aunt Binney. " Ye must have vvondcrfui good eyes, Iviiss Charnock, fur I'm sure I could not see anything on the other side of yon of yc took I'm I have "II more have ( broad eyes." She eyeing her ha the fe unconc very d( to acc( plexity diversic supper as she \ in a loi intelligc "Oh, their gu appearai somethii positivel tray bac " Eh, r with a be you'd be back in a " You , ine very b YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. g^ tool you fof stn A^;:,:f itL^-^^';'^^^ "^^^ I'm sure, Miss Charnock o know hn "^"^ ""=• have guessed it was our simon " " ^°" ~"'<^ have ever seen so tall a man as Mr 9 "°' """"^ ' broad a one; and whe^ Twent closer I'Z' T ^T ^ eyes." ^^'^ ^ remembered his She glanced over her shonlH^^r nf u- eyeing him with a most d spa froLt.,"' ''"' '''"'^'• her hat the while a„H f °'.''P'"''°"^t<= coolness, shaking the fender But '^ TZZT"' *'', "'"'^ '°°' "P°" unconcerned deme o 'hef woTdsTh " f "" ^"' very deep confusion, and beUv en that aTd h'"""" '"'° to account for hi^ nnr.„o "^ "'^ anxiety Piexity wastt!lrr7ucti,f ar th°"' ''' "^^ diversion was caused M/fK ^' ""' moment a supper tray MkT Fleer aT"'"" "' ^""y ^^'^h ">= as'sL was'abou fo p^L: Ton teT M '° ''f ^"^^^ ""^^ in a loud whisoer Jn^ • k "''''*■ '"f-^-^'ng her intelligence .trthe;tre'not";:alt^ ''"' "''"'^ °^ •■Oh, madam, how' can you be ,o t'JT T'"'^ the r cruest " r «-.c ; ^ "^' '^ exclaimed appearance Of .Vrtrr T'Setll "''^'^ °" ""= something very delightful nag as Z '""."'r '"" positivelj' fainting Prav Mill IT ' *"'' ' *■" tray back again '^ ^' "^etwood. order the wiih^Ca^iJir 'rdirTth' ri ^'^ ^•=""^'' Cin^a-n^E^f-"--"--^^^^ f 1^ 68 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. as for you, Mr. Simon, I know not what you'll think Here you come home at night-fall to find your house mvaded and your substance claimed with neither ' by your leave ' nor ' with your leave '. But I have been overtaken by the rain and your kind aunt has sent for nriy father's carriage. It will not come for some little time, and I am very hungry—so now you know all about it." Simon stood looking at her without replying, for each of the pretty creature's arch speeches and every one of her airs and graces seemed to scatter his wits more hope- lessly. But when she began to push the heavy oak chair towards the table, he recovered some portion of his self- possession, and darted to her assistance. " I like this chair," she remarked, following him as he wheeled it forward. " I have tried it and found it com- fortable, and I like these curious carvings. This is a strange and most delightful room, Mr. Fleetwood. There are none so pretty at the Hall, and I am very sure our maids do not polish the furniture as yours do. I can see myself in this great table. Pray look, Mr. Fleetwood, how my hands are reflected on this polished surface.' And now my face—look ! I can see that my hair is very untidy." ^ She leaned forward smiling at her own reflection and patting a refractory curl into place. If it was coquetry, it was the innocent coquetry of a child. Simon was in no mind to criticise or analyse, and his fascinated eyes wandered from the laughing face bent over the table in such a manner as to display the most delicate little ear in the world and the most exquisite line of throat and shoulder, to the polished board where, indeed, he could discern the reflected gleam of bright eyes and flashing teeth. ^ Meanwhile Miss Belinda had been fussing in and out YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^ Of the room intent on hospitable preparations qu. . ^ ments at the Farm o ^; u ? partook of refresh- o'Ter her, J^^T.^lTr^i iTti:; ,f '^^^' "^ ^'^ Sister Fleetwood's death A^f fn "'•^ ™'- ^ince own way withthe hou 1 """^ ''"'^ ^"^ " "" h" rfitions of the • InH , "'"& '"^ P''"=^^^^d the tra- -d her ,ra;ioa^::H'er ;:::':' "^ "- -*- thing and civih'ty another and Mis" Be, "d^T "" T was due to an honoured guest Mrs Fie! i"r *''*' service of Cro«-n Derhv^h; Fleetwood's best tea- special tea-caddy was unio^r/'^?' ""'' ^'^^ Belinda's measured out wL her own . f;,' /°"^ teaspoonfuls were for each person and onrfo^he^'T ^^^""P-heil-one prescribed formula TllZ ^ ' ^'='=°'^-"S to the dainties of wh^ch Rachel h"7'r''.*'-' ^''^^ '° the Miss Belinda. wTth her own h t''^'' ''"^'" ^'s'^'' «"d of egg-shell ^imLs toTh'r Mi.:' R^n 7'. '"''" justice as well as to elervthrnf .r f ^°' '^"^ ^"'P'" goddess of Simon" hldTh ' hil f "" ''''''' '"°' ""'^ teen years. She chatted I ^ 'PP'"'" °^ ''" »''<- ate, mforming heM^ ts TLV7 ?r''^' ^^'■"^ ^'>« "ome for good Sh had b e„ at tch: I rZ ""'"'""' and she had naid a l^n! °°' '°'' "^e years, Hungary, and '„ v Ir due™; „'" '" ^'r""'''"' '"" was to go into society and tTu ^'"P''-""^' ^"^ '^e After these exo lamK k ',''^'' P'''='^ '" "'e world. the table, diVecirnj h; :■;' "'^'•■'^ P"^"^''^-^'^ ™""d glass dish wh^Ld a£r "^^^Tl '"''""'' '"^ and w. h ,,„„„ „ ^j;> CeTot-r""'"™' 1 have been wonderinfr urh., ,u ,' . . canbemadeof'shp^iiVl r.?,. "■ "T' '''"'"^' '*^^^^' ^''^^P^? (If" }S' 'i 70 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. but if It be black currant, then I fear I must content myself with admiring, for I must own that is a dainty I cannot endure-it reminds me too much of coughs and colds. So you see I think it prudent to inquire before I commit myself" " It is neither one nor the other, Miss Charnock 'Tis damson cheese, which you must often have tasted, for sure— tis a favourite dish wi' Lancashire folk " " Nay, indeed, I never have," cried Rachel, and the hovenng spoon descended quickly on the shining little pyramid. " Cheese ! A curious name surely But the preserve, my dear Miss Fleetwood, is excellent. Why do we never have it at the Hall ? " "I wonder indeed that it should be so," said Miss Fleetwood, with the astonishment and concern natural in so experienced a manager. " I fear me the house- keeper yonder must be a thriftless body, if one may make bold to say so. I Ve heard she comes from London or somewhere south, and that would account for it • but It IS a pity, indeed, madam, with that beautiful damson orchard at the Hall and all. But it is not too late for this year, she added hopefully. "We are nobbut just making ours now." " Oh, do let me come and see you make it," cried Rachel eagerly, with a spring of delight on her chair. I should love to of all things. You must know that I am a very great housekeeper. I can make puddings and pies, and jelly, too ; though sometimes I cannot help squeezmg the bag to make it run through quicker, and then ,t IS not so clear. And I can make an omelette you sec in my mother's country it is thought useful for ladies to know how to do these things, and my grand- mother taught me to be very clever in such matters I dare to say, Miss Fleetwood, that I -culH ^v-n t-ach you some curious recipes. Vou Jiav. r.evr.- I vvageT YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. _, thought of making hip jam— th^ h,r,c „r -but I assure you 'tis excellent T ° ,7^' 7°" ^"^^ to make hip jam if vou t^n ' [ 'f"" y°" ''°»' damson cheesi "do Z .gljT' ""' '°" '° ""^"^ ne;!rhea'"oruth':' "h"'^'""" °' "'P J^™' '>-ng readily and de Vhtediv "'!;' '" ''""'=^=""''^' ''« *« iady fnto the mystief ofT '° 'f'"'' "^^ ^"""g "So you see ^ sa rRl r:°" .^''^^^^ ■"^"^'"g- ; .. .Lds a„ noTetef c^^irdrLrfi^r:' c- of^r rzr- - - 1 r^.'-^ "r Englishman's house must be that."' '^"*'" °' ^" It; i ' 72 CHAPTER VI. It is my lady; O, it is my love : O, that she knew she were. —Shakespeare. Next morning Simon set forth for his usual round Sd Tat T '° 'T"" "'^ ^°'"P^"y "P°" 'he --en.' ac^ustS houTInd'^s::^' CH '° ^t"'" "^^"'^ '•' u J 1 ^ /'^"^ ana see Miss Charnock at work Hp. When he had caught sieht of LrZu } """""^"^ 4.U a- «"fc,iii ^i|4nt or ner at his own fireside an^^ the effect produced by her great beauty and charm wat enhanced by the fact that her whim made her for he t,me be,ng a part of his own home circle. She had nersell m his fathers chair-countless tender memorio^ of the past wove themselves about her vivid youm Tma ' —she had taken possession of his hearf ,nH ■ j^ and flashmg m this early hour with the remains oT°he heavy dew, that is a forerunner of frost >dl> how inose pretty hands of hers would set about YEOMAN FLEETWOOD, converting the like into iam v„ j leaf, the veo^ colour "the ribbon ^'' ""' " '"""°" and here was a yellow one tha^ " uM "'°^\>'«'-'-<'»y. shoes. No, he would th.nV '' "'''"^'' ^^' ""'e certainly n;t r^^ t^t erTupT^rln'^lV^ -"""' her co„,pa„y „hich might be distasteful 1^? "^°" rr"et n^f^rr ,7-" °^ ™'. -^etdZ -ch her anytlX; worlh r^w^ r^tj:::;- ''■ ^°""' way, and for what other reason hL ^T " '" ^"y her? So he walked on, ^oTe andl"' '"''"'" "P™ started every now and therat th" f ! "'^P'^'^'' ^"'l voice, and peered throulh ,h "'''^'' """"^ "fher ■•ts white folds CO e'^er^':;h^"' ""I '' "'°"^'' was very busv »nH . ^"""S figure. He that he finished h,t ZT" f '^'^' *^' ^*^- » "^5 found himself in a ex"ra "di ""'j """" "■'"«'• -^ free to return home ^"'''"'^""''y ^f ""expected way thk account, but what about'^h'""""' '" ^"'"^ » °" he had tak;„ such pa^nstV '''^"'"^^ "'"> "'h'-ch prudence, indeed he'n ., tv'TT'- ''"'"'' °^ '"^ stood stock-still in the m-ddl Ifl '""^ "^'"^' "« ■"oming circuit ended ™ Th''= ^ '"' ''T'' ""^■■'^ "is gracing there surrounded llr "^ '"''' '^'=" favourites sniffing at Mm wkh • "' '''° ^P<=^'^' evidently expect.ng a t b,T or T""'"^ ™''^' "°-^'=^' was meditating, an^d dM not heed """■ ""' ^™°" sohreS::r;;^,^:;pr"-'^''-^'-^H- Rachel herself emerged ^2^1!'"^;"^^ ''"^"' '"^ ^''^ the hall. *" """ ""= '''tehen as he entered " Come in." sho rrlnri « how hard we have Zt^Z ^J^t^^.'^'' ^ Faunas of jam. I hpin^^ ^ -T " Faunas and ^".ar.andiwitisrolSl^Lras^::";:-- Ui5 74 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. to-morrow I am coming to help to press it-may I not Mss Fleetwood? I have been stirring and stirring ts hard as any one. and I am so hot and so sticky. My To.^^ltZ:"fV''""' presently in the phaeton"^ so now I think .t is t,me to go ind clean me-is not tha the proper thmg to say? Dolly has lent me an anron for M,ss Fleetwood's were not big enoug, Now I ^m gom^ to clean me. Dolly, and you shall have youTapro" Simon had followed her into the kitchen, and now duly mspected the great copper pans in which the "Z to beT, T^' '"u ""= '""^ """^ ^°"= °f P°'^ «hich were to be filled on the morrow. Then his eyes reverted to Rachel herself, Rachel with her dress tufned back over her shorter frilled petticoat, and Dolly's apron with I great coarse bib pinned across the pretty lace Tucker her cheeks were flushed and her eyes danced, and Zr hair was ruflled indeed, and there were variou tell-tale cr.mson fru.t-stains not only on the apron, but even on her own wh,te arms. One little impudem splalh had actually found ,ts way to the rounded chin, just beside the d,mple, a fact which old Susan, presentl^ perceiv ng made bold to remedy pi-rceivmg, "My uord, my word!"' she cried, approaching the young lady w,th a napkin, " yoll carry jam enoughLay th,-/ «: uT- 1? 'P'""'^ " ''""y ™' '■ Coom, let's have this off- before Madam comes to fetch yo' ■■ And Rachel, stooping, actually sufffcred that bewitching rubh7 /°''^' '^ "'^ ^"^^^■•°- °'d woman who rubbed w,th right good will, and, moreover, so gr^at a freedom that Simon with difficulty refrained from inter ermg. bhe went upstairs presently with Miss Fleetwood S'the hi, t"''"''l^ ^" "'^ ^''- -^"^ ^™°" P-'' about the hall, having been desired bv his aunt in hold fliniscii 111 reaainess to receive Mrs. Charnock. By-and- YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. bring the ke/o7:he bit roo^rM' f^d J^l ^"'^ fancy for seeing it " ' Charnock has a hetTs^S' otett? ^ 'r "'^ '"'"-■^ ^-''' sitting-room It °as nl 71'"'° '"'" "^^ f^^^^'^ RachflshouidbethTLHor.'; '"''PP^ °""" *at while now and unhke itseff ^' '^'"' ""*' "">«•• yon?s:::tllcedt i'™ ^"^' "■^' ' "^"' '" -' f-' of the head . I „e;e?dH"''^ 7'""" ^"" "'"^ » '°- put back as it should be tlTu"^"*°"' ''' young lady • so I'll i,,!? „ ^, ""'''"' '■^^"''6 the ro/ada:, z ir Se: r.otri;." '°"-' sitting-room door P"''"^" >"'' ""''i^e the Mr. sL°^.'she saLt'"^ ^°" ' ''''' ^'-' °f '-"ble, I had T • 7 ' "'"'"S '"""'^ with a smile • " but 1 had a mmd to see this room it ■ ' ' so many happy hours • " ^^'^^'^''-'d with buf forgoTthfpa'ss'if- " ''' ''''"'' '""" ^'^ ^--ty, when he had u,'oS ™d"th "" '" ' '''"'" ^'"''''^ though so careful yeled the""'" """'u ""= ^°°^- f"' appearance of bei!;gTe;:,t,% rter'^The^'^'" ""= were wide open ; books and I'Tt- ^ "^' Meetwood's couch appeared ~tn hl"^ u' ''°°"' ' '"'"■"• recently, for the o.Tf " """^ """P'^d but y. the cushions were piled up as though .M Iff ;6 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. '■>, and when shrtun,cd toward h 'Ik""' "'"" "'' in her eyes. '"''° '""' 'here were tears senousness which hIh L '°" "'^ "leaning of the not realise aU that was'i't '-"^ "'°"^'' ^"^ -"'^ -eetness .in^ed'wth ^std^s' "m 0:^^"^" "' have asked you to show it n,e Mi33 L^h' "ot to n> 't was not used now and r fh ,';'^^'"'°°d '"Id Perhaps-hke any othershuT-up' ro^^'^ " """'"' ^^ I «k''e^:Tee;°Tju'::rr:' ""t' -''' ^■■"'°"^ "^« « r o r . . •' ^^ '^ ^^s when she sat hpr^ » know-I did^,o; thiLif ^^' -Puls,vely •• , dy „„, H'^5 e-t srt:Vh,^ir-r ^ T- - br.htness was di^.ed By tea™ .".Ta^:;::^ ^ ^ ne;y;^ry^„tttLr"""^--'^"'- Ah, you remember how oftfr, r . j child," cried Rachel "7 I > I """^ '° '^°™« ^^ a bring my little stooiH. . ™°'"- ' "^^^ to tau/ht m'e a'n^r'oa^'I >'°™''er's sofa, and she those she set me to peel w. J^"'^ "'^ '"''"'' "^'^ houses with the pith And7„ ""f" ^"* ^"""V '•■"« I worked this sampler^ 1 tj "°"' ""'■ ^""°'" "^'" being framed. But shl tauJ^t ' 1 ''"' ""' ""''"^ °f it was finished I gavet to her 7 ''''"'^' '"^ *'^<'" p r :, ^. S'^vc It CO ner. You see mv mfMoi. u^-„ R. C. ? O - on eacn oranch of this very fi see my initials here ■y niie tree. Is ed placed astonish- jpon her 're tears he said, ig of the e could nuch of not to od told )uld be ; "but ere." show h*d not se, up- t their r your 1 can as a 2d to d she ' like I''tle . that ly of v'hen here. Is VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. i^„not a fine ..eP There are .u.teseven leaves t! been presented during^, s^te r^''"°'''^' '' '' "ad 'ooked at it with a peeled in e"sT iTh'"™^' '"' "'' succeeded by a vein of rl J„ ' "'' '"^^ Presently him that th^ qua'nt relfc of h ""'u^ " «'"«" ^ w.re, a link be'veTn them '^""'°°' '"^'''^' »» " Kalh^eKrhXrshTmTSaTh^ '''"'" '•"""'-^ " No, indeed ; I like it" hi . 'acturnity. short pause, -No one ever ^nl^ "'r" ' "^'''"^' ^^'^' » me, and I find it sweet " ^ °^~°^ °''' *''"«^ to taught me\ow o L ke sh°e ,"/ "'"''• ^°" -"the the shells in this drawer u wT' 'T"'''' ""''' '"^ them. She had such mt'l. • ? *' ^'"'^J'^ •<=?» fit for the work Tsuooo ! t""'^ '"^^"' ' '^"'^'"be', added, looking at S th """■'"^'^ '>'""" ="« ^._. B aimon ith a cur.ous little pensive "nS f dtg t" :ir ;t^"^""^' "' --t would never have^allowed if - "' ""''-"y ^'''her he:i:ro:o:s:T„rttfi^ ^''""-^•-•" --th gether of her prett;^bro:s • TT-''^' ''""'"^ '- make jam. My grandmnTh • i "'' " '" de'ightful to older than Mr's.^F eeTw^ ^afT"'" *'"'"''■ '""='' delicate; but she loves all wnrtf ./ ?°""=' ^"'^ ^^^^ preserves and all sorts of '1. °^'^ '""^- She makes she mends the ICnl^tuT ""' ^°' ""^ "'"''Sers, and pM I.. , ""^" «"th her own hp!.,.Kc.i ...C-.. .. . oia "anas, and sh<> cnir,.. , "'"" •'•""= tnin all her ma'ids sitting "ZThe: ''TH '^, '" '''"• -* ** ^ ^^^- ^ have learned h. vv to l-f .I'M-' H-ji MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 12.5 ■■■ ,„ ■^ IIIIM 2.2 1^ ,. no 2.0 IS. *^ i^ laitLu 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^ .APPLIED INA^GE Inc 165J East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 (716) 482 - 0300 -Phone (716) 288- 5989 - Fax USA ;8 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Spin, and to darn, and to make cakes, too— I think, you know, that women should work as well as men. It is only fair." Simon gazed at her astonished, not merely at her account of the doings of her grandmother, who was, he had heard, a very great lady in her own country, but that such a theory should be propounded by such lips. It was quite at variance with the views so carefully inculcated by his father. " I do not agree with you," he said bluntly, " I do not like to see women doing real work, unless compelled by necessity. I think woman's share in the home life .should be to attend to its little refinements. I like better to see ladies occupied with such pretty useless trifles as these " — fingering the shell-boxes tenderly "than roughening their hands and overtaxing their strength by labours for which they are constitutionally unfitted." " Well, that is an odd speech for a man to make," said Rachel. " I do not think it is flattering to my sex, Mr. Fleetwood. Why should women fritter away their time uselessly when there is so much to be done in the world ? And some things, let me tell you, sir, can be managed much better by a woman than by a man." " I do not doubt it," he said with his quiet smile. " Do you mean to tell me," she pursued with animation, " that if you were married you would like your wife to leave all the work to you ? I think it would be monstrous unfair." Simon had blushed to the roots of his thick brown hair, and seemed to find it difficult to reply ; but after a short pause he said in a low voice : " I should not allow my wife to soil the tips of her fingers if I could prevent it ". "Then you would be doing her an injustice," cried Miss Charnock vehemently, " and if she had any spirit YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 79 she would tell you so. I know if I were a farmer's wife," she went on energetically, " I should insist on working shoulder to shoulder with my husband— he without and I within. One should help the other and work for the other ; the labours and cares should be as equally divided as the profits and rewards." She gazed at Simon defiantly, as though challenging contradiction, but to her great astonishment he made no reply whatever. He looked away from her, indeed, with so red a face and so odd an expression that she decided in her own mind that he was very much annoyed at what he perhaps took to be reflections on his mother, and that it would be prudent to change the subject. She crossed the room to the high mantelpiece, which was quaintly decorated with carvings of grotesque figures, traditionally held to represent Henry VHI. and his six wives. The same daring hand which had adorned the oak panelling of the chamber itself with a coat of paint had tastefully bedecked these representations. The ladies now pranked it with white faces and buff hair, to match the walls, their royal spouse being accorded a variation by way of marking his precedence, for his face was buff and his hair white. Rachel was too well accustomed to the contemplation of these figures to notice them to-day, but her attention was at once attracted by the vases on the shelf above, Simon's last gift to his mother. " These are new to me," she said. " They are beauties, Mr. Fleetwood ; what a lovely shape, and how charmingly the roses are painted ! They have lids, too— what is this inside ? " She had taken off one of the covers as she spoke, and now thrust her hands into the fragrant mixture beneath. A sweet faint perfume filled the room, and Rachel, uttering exclamations of delight, continued to stir and nh \m Bo YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. sifi the pot-pourri. All at once, struck by the youn^ man s silence, she turned to him, and saw to her surprise that he was leaning against the window-sill, shading his eyes with his hands. " Oh," she cried, with a little gasp of dismay, « how cruel and thoughtless I have been. Of course your mother made this pot-pourri. Ah, do not think me un- feelmg— mdeed I did not mean to be so. I_I can't tell you how sorry I am for you." Simon's eyes were still averted ; the delicate odour had m truth brought back to him poignant memories. He was a man of strong emotions and great reserve • his heart though long starved was large and tender, and' now was almost too full to allow him to speak. But after a time he found his voice : — " !t was the last thing she made before she died " he sajd, " and my father — " He broke off: he could talk of the mother, whom he had yet loved dearly, but of the father, - /hose loss had been to him more bitter than death, he could not bring himself to speak. ^ "Ah, your father," murmured Rachel softly, "you lost them both in one day, did you not ? Oh, poor Mr. Simon ' I do feel for you. To lose your father-that was sad enough, but your mother! I almost wonder you are alive." Simon turned towards her imp^ 'ely ; it seemed to him for a moment as though the it'olised memory of his father claimed its due. He could not have told any one but her, but she must know how matters really stood, and how the anguish caused by the loss of his mother was as but a drop in the ocean of that other vaster, deeper, all-pervading sorrow for his father's death. But even as he opened his lips to say the words the ifli YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 8 1 scent of the dried rose-leaves recalled him to that sunny day when he had carried the little mother round the garden ; he felt the touch of her hand upon his face he remembered the look of pride and love in her eyes Oh no, oh no, for the sake of that day, and in memory of that other when the little head, once pillowed on his shoulder, had been laid to rest on the heart dearer to him than all the world, her memory should be merged in that of the deeper love. Even to his own heart there should be but one sorrow and one tenderness. He gazed at Rachel in silence, and the look on his face brought tears into her eyes. M^^^^Z^'"" '^^"'''"^ ^^"'' strangely moved, when Madam Charnock appeared in the doorway. She glanced from one to the ether in surprise, but recovered herself when Simon came forward io greet her. Rachel followed her a little sil-ntly down the stairs and out of the house, but by-and-bye regained her usual spirits, and began to chat gaily to her mother about her morning's work. Mrs. Charnock answered her cheerfully and pleasantly, and presciitly inquired casually on what subject she and Simon Fleetwood had chanced to be talking when she had entered. "Oh, it w.is about his mother," returned Rachel, grave agam m an instant. "Poor fellow! Do you know I believe I inadvertently caused him great pain ? First I asked to see Mrs. Fleetwood's sitting-room, which I afterwards found out no one but himself is allowed to enter, and then I took the cover off the jar of pot-pourri which she made just before she died. I believe that young man has an excellent heart. You must have seen how pale he was when you came in, and he looked so sad— ah, how he must have loved his mother! It is not every man that would be so much moved after so many years." The bright dark eyes of mother dnd daughter met ''.; ! ' ■ Ui ' H tAi 82 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. each Other, the one pair inquiring, the other full of inno- cent sympathy. Mrs. Charnock sighed. "He has indeed a good heart," she said, and her thoughts, too went back as Simon's had done to the gathering of th ^ roses, and the memory of the tender relations between mother and son. But the sight of the glow of enthus- iasm in Rachel's face recalled her to the present, and to the advisability of prudence. ^ " He seems a worthy young man," she pursued, "and is, I believe, an excellent farmer. His aunt, too, is a very good sort of person, and not in any way inclined to presume. Still it would be as well not to be too familiar with them, Rachel." "But why, ma'am?" inquired the girl, opening her eyes very wide. " Miss Fleetwood was most respectful- so respectful indeed that she made me feel quite con- fused ; and I am sure Mr. Simon is respectful too Nothing could be more so than the few words he spoke to me. He is a very silent man, Mother-I should have called him a little dull but that I believe he has been mightily well educated. Yet, indeed I loved him for thinking so tenderly of his mother. Ah, what should / do were I to lose my mother ? " Mrs. Charnock smiled as the child laid her hand impulsively on her arm, and Rachel resumed after a moment or two : — "To-morrow I am going to finish the damson cheese, and next week I have promised Miss Fleetwood to show her how to preserve hips, though she said— but very respectfully, I assure you. Mother-she thought the pre- serve would be a gritty sort of thing at best." Mrs. Charnock glanced at her again sharply, hesitated, and finally changed the conversation. The subject required thoucrhf- anH nri'^f ^f- -q—ji^ - ?-t . ,. •• - ="-' i.su^i uc Qcaic wicn tactfuiiy. Rachel was a spoilt child, but such a child. As innocent VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. g, as she was impulsive, as frank as she was fearless It would be a p,ty even to suggest to her the power o he own attract,on and the inconvenient results which mi^ ensue Left to herself, the notion would probably never occur to her that this stalwart young yeoman mighnose dire tol ■ '""" P™'^''"''^ '■^ '"■--'f -om n" Zl^ u P^^^""?'"""^- But after all he had good blood ,n h,s vems; he had been educated as a gentle man. Madam Charnock resolved t: . dge for hefsdf i.n l;i:jil -I ■ 'i M 84 CHAPTER VII. A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards Hath ta'en with equal thanks : and bless'd are those Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger To sound what stop she pleases. —Shakespeare. Mrs. Charnock herself accompanied her daughter on her next visit to the Farm, much to the surprise and joy of Miss Fleetwood. No one could be more gracious or more charming than the Squire's lady, and to-day her aftabihty was even greater than usual. For not only did she superintend Miss Rachel's operations, but she actually condescended to assist her, and, in her own fair runnmg hand, wrote the name of the preserve on more than three dozen labels. So great was Aunt Binney's rapture over this performance that she could scarcely brmg herself to make use of the preserve thus honoured and for years afterwards the shelves of Simon's store' cupboard were adorned with rows of neat pots which bore the inscription " Damsel Cheese," for such was the foreign Madam's rendering of the title. As she sat in the cool oak parlour, of which the door was thrown open that Dolly with more ease might go in and out with the trays of pots, she heard a step in the courtyard without, and presently Simon's figure passed the window. Madam Charnock looked at her watch • half-past eleven ! It wanted an hour of the Farm dinner- time—what brought him hark so cn^n p cu. .^^ motionless, listening with compressed lips. The front YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 85 EARE. ?hter on and joy Lcious or day her lot only but she Dwn fair >n more Finney's scarcely noured, 3 store- which vas the 10 door t go in in the passed watch : iiinner- le sat J front door opened, and his steps sounded in the hall • there came a hesitating pause outside the parlour door/which openmg mto the room, concealed the form of the visitor' From the kitchen Rachel's gay young voice rang out of a sudden and the step passed on. Mrs. Charnock rose and went out into che hall, extending her hand. Simon turned as she crossed the doorway. His face had a curious dreamy look, but he started when he saw her How do you do, Mr. Fleetwood ? " she said graciously as he respectfully took the proffered hand. ^"" ^^""^ ^er in the snow. How long ago was it? Let me see-eleven or twelve years, I think." -*am," returned "It is ten years and nine months, m iiimon, still with eyes cast down. Madam Charnock could not repress a smile, albeit a omewhat sad one; but she continued in the s;me light and cheerful tone :— ^ "Then she must have been between five and .six_=.nH samf :„ "'"I: T".''^ ^'" "^^- She is much "the same now, a self-w.lled, impulsive baby-sadly spoilt iH 86 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Simon raised his eyes and looked attentively at the purpose. He had turned a little pale, and his face was grave, yet she could not but mark The furious tendernes of ^s expression. She continued, after a pause stH looking earnestly at him :— excuse the curious freedom with which we have I mav say, taken posse.ssion of your house. It is dear to her as you know, from old association, and besides it is hl^ I so id u" """^ ^^"'' ''"''' M''^« F'^et'vood her ch'^Hh 'h c!'°" ^'' '° '^'^'■" '"^ ol-^ footing of her childhood. She will probably continue to pav frequent vjsits to the Farm, unles,s I forbid them.'^^ '^ And why, madam, should these visits be forbidden ?" asked young Fleetwood, with dry lips The lady paused a moment before replying-" Because my dea, f^end, I could not allow my daughters fS TouTe orof"■■■°"'^'^''' "-^ o'dina^roufine of S house-or of mine. It ,s not always possible for me to accompany her, and indeed my frequent presence he e would doubtless be inconvenient. 'l know? moreoveT that she ,s as safe here as at home, i need o have no anxiety while she is in your aunt's good care But ^ would grieve me much, Mr. Fleetwood, if yTu were to alter your customary arrangements on her accoun I do no wish my daughter to be treated with ceremony- it IS, 1 assure you, quite unnecessarv for vo.. to come home at unusual hours in order to attend to her. Hi I YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 87 r at the s of set ace was iderness se, still n sure, I may to her, : is her house- etvvood >ting of o pay m." Iden ? " 2cause, ! freak f your me to t here eover, ve no But it sre to nit. I Dny — come I~I I should not be able to permit her to repeat her visits if I found them to cause so much disturbance and incon- venience." She had taken up a pen as she spoke, and now dipped It into the ink as though about to resume her former task Simon followed the progress of the hand, which shook oddly, and then his eyes reverted to her face. '• I understand, madam," he said very quietly. Then with a low bow. he went out ; and in another minute Mrs. Charnock, glancing through the window, saw him walking rapidly away. All the time they had been speaking they could hear Rachel chattering and laughing but she never discovered that Simon had been near the house that day. The damson cheese was made and stored, and the hip preserve was in progress, when, one morning soon after breakfast, Mrs. Charnock was told that Simon Fleetwood wished to see her. The Squire had ridden out, and Rachel had betaken herself to the Farm so Madam sat all alone in her morning-room with a great pile of bills and papers before her. Her face had been anxious enough as she pored over them, but it looked doubly anxious now, when, at her desire, the servant ushered the young yeoman into the room. Her vague alarm and distress, however, turned into momen- tary terror as she caught sight of his face. She rose hastily from her chair, crying, " Has anything happened ? Lrood God ! my daughter ! " " I have not seen your daughter, madam, and to the best of my belief nothing has happened. I have come to speak t( you — about myself" She seated herself with a sigh of relief, and motioned to bimon to do the same, but he declared that he would rather stand. During the pause which followed Mrs ^narnock turned a little pale. She had been reassured on her daughter's account, and yet, as she gazed at Wi^^ lilt m ill H ^ai 8S YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. » '"• mTkj'^'Z'ir:"?' "' ^°'"^*''"S «■-* -- very civuu.b grip ot the strong brown fincrpr« t ;a.- commandinPf presence a c.m • i ne can, strenfTfh r.f fK . ' '^'^^" recognition of the ~. .!». *. ;.d 4.",. Ti,L.:r-B '"'*'' ^^ "ears. bhe lost it some days ago " ^ Yes returned Simon, '« I found it." X found it three days at?o " saM ?;„ steadily and deliberately "and F h L 'P''''''"^ with me ever since Uh T ^^"'^"^ " ^''""' and day." " ''"' '^'" ^g^'""^' "^y bosom night flafht^'^' ^' ''™ "°*' "^^ -'"- -.-ng and her eyes keepi„rJs te nffli '"v^";" ''°"' '''" "^^ -"' «". h-iij^ iiib eyes unHmchmg v on hpr<; « t*. o , me right that you should know I have th^ 7 '° to love your daughter, and to day I made uo^mf'"".' to come and tell you so." ^ "^ """^ -...rtm^ u=cif, every mstinct and tradition of her Hne YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 89 ;i rushing to reinforce her outraged dignity ; but Yeoman Fleetwood held his ground, dominating all by the mere force of his personality. " I have kept my word to you," he went on. - When she was in the house, I have gone out-I have remained away ; but every time that she comes my love grows stronger. I can feel her presence in the place. 1 can think over the prattle which 1 may not hear, I picture her sitting by my hearth, busy about the house — '' "bimon Fleetwood," said Madam Charnock, rallying her self-possession and speaking with grave, cold severity have you come here to-day t ) insult me by making an offer of marriage for my daughter ? " "An offer of marriage!" he cried stammering, un- nerved, It would seem, by the very words ; but in a moment he recovered himself "No, indeed, madam, I have no hope. I c.me here to tell you what I felt-to own what seems to you an outrage Yet before God, madam, my love for Miss Charnock need be held as no disgrace to her. I HeaveT" ^' ^ ""^^ ""^^ ^°°^ "P°" ^^^ '^^'' ^" Mrs^ Charnock was astonished, bewildered, con- founded; mastered by the passion of the man, yet filled t^ar'd.f 1";^'"! f^- ^'"""'"^ ^'^ ^^^'^ ^he came towards him, and laid her hand kindly on his arm. bit down, Simon," she said tremulously, "sit down my poor lad. All this is very painful, and I do noi understai^d. If you see for yourself-if you know that this sudden attachment of yours is hopeless, why have you come here to confess it to me?" He had changed countenance at her altered tone and now sat down beside her as she desired; of the twi she ^eemed the most moved. "You bade me think of her as a child," he said, "and m 90 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. promisor z:z\:z:tr '°-'''i -^ '^^^ -^ of her standing at my doo7 and TTf ' ""g"'' ^'^ht me towards htr rT ' ^ '^''' '''^g''" '° '^^e ic cowards her. It was not until I had thrown mvself And this ,s what you have come to say ? " murmured paSr and^r'' "' '™°"' ="' ^"^^^^^ '" "^-n thol r ' °"'" "''^••y- wondered vaguely whv those soft eyes of hers had become so dim There las a pause, and then she said quietly,- ^ here was "I thank you, Simon. I will follow your advice " door T; h"f 7'"^' ^""'"^ '''^^te^dily towards the n^e . l-^ ? ^' '■'**''' " '^''^ '=^"^'! him by his my life I tZ ^"' ■"" ^°"^ "^"^^ Simon. In all And th^ "r',™"' '° honourable a man." did not you; Zi" "'' P'"'^' "^ •■ " ^''' S'-on, why aid not your mother marry one of her own degree r ■■ He paused with his hand upon the latch. Not ,;ven for the hope of being nearer to her co„W I vv,sh my father other than he was " he saW »„H t went away holding his head high ' '"'' ^' 91 -- ■■II 4 CHAPTER VIII. Content thee, gentle coz, let liim alone, He bears him like a portly gentleman My only love sprung from my only hate", Too early seen unknown, and known too late. —Shakespeare. What excuse Madam Charnock made to her daughter or m what manner she managed to divert her attention from the accumulation of household knowledge never transpired, but Rachel came no more to the Farm. Miss Belmda marvelled much, and grumbled not a little It was the way with voung creatur's she said. They'd take up a thmg that ec.ger, and seem to be that set on it and then without rhyme or reason they'd give over caring tor It. Talk about fine ladies' housekeeping-she knew what that meant, and she need look no farther nor Simon's own mother. Never would Miss Binney forget how set she seemed on getting the keys off her v,hen hrst she came to the place-not indeed that Miss Binney wanted to keep them when her brother brought a new mistress to the Farm. Hadn't she been there waiting on the threshold when the bride and bridegroom came home, and had she not handed over the keys almost before the new Mrs. Fleetwood could set foot to the ground ? Ha ! but when the fine madam had heard that the keeping of the keys entailed being astir at five o clock in the morning to see after thinr^s in fh^ ^oj.., and storeroom, she had very soon handed them l,ack to them as— when all was said and done— had the best m H I'M W '^ U 92 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ? °"§^"^ ^° be managed, sudden cessation of Radiel'r T '°'?'"^"' °" "'^ sit down opposite a sJuTr. ' ^ ""'^^^ ^" ^^^^^ thing; there^ no%\ 4"7;:^7-->^' ^r some such are you thinking abou so haX A '' T' ^^^^ usual ? " ^^'^'^ '^ ^''^ you busier than ''No, not more so than usual." -nr;rt rz Xd^'o^rrr'^^V'^^- no occasion for it? An T ^! '^' ^^^"' ^^ there's you re ,e«,„g te.ib.e dui,. Why doTfJe ta'; a'S he^ijl™" '" "° '"^'"^^-^ '° '^'- •'"■■■day^." reph-ed her n::e\"c:::rn1 tlr"'^'^'* "'^^ «'"-^' -''"'•"g am sure there s;^ ma': foir" "h'" ''""°>'^''- " ' rath. i.t th:'re rthe^eX"-^ ^° "^ ^^ hav^ot„^:"r:et^^^^^^^^^ because , ^^Z^.^J^^LZ ^f'"^ ^'^ ^-tr, do vincrd:"':':dt rthaTi'do*^"/' ^"^^--'"ed, u„co„. ao ^„„H _ °,^^^0'^ that I don t see why a farmer hasn't ngni to see a fox killed as any other. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. q, "Certainly, my dear Aunt, if he can spare the time." Time time! You re talkin' real fooHsh, Simon. It's my belief that you're trying to tire yourself out " S- .on received this remark, according to his wont T VhTu-^'T'"^' '" '^^'"'"' ^"' '^^ ^^d lady's chance shot had hit the mark. He was, indeed, trying to tire himself out seeking in ceaseless bodily activity an outlet for his restlessness. He had resolved to conquer the sudden mad passion which had so unaccountably taken possession of him ; as he had confessed to Madam Charnock, he was thoroughly convinced of its hope- lessness^ and he was now determined to give it no place in his thoughts— to stifle it, to starve it out So from early dawn till late at night he toiled like any of h.s labourers, being astir, indeed, long before thev and once or twice surprising them by rubbing down one of his horses, or putting his own hands to the plough They considered such things unnecessary and undignified" and yet they could not but admire the manner in which he set to work. ''Ye might ha- been born to it, Mester Simon," cried old Bill, one day, with unwilling rapture. - Yon's as straight a drill as I could mak' mysel' " " I have been born to it, Bill," returned Simon ; and he went on up the field again, turning at the top in masterly style, conscious the while of a sense of odd satisfaction as his feet sank into the cool, damp earth and his eye marked out the line wherein the horses were to travel. So the winter wore away. Simon grew tiiinner and graver as the months passed. He thought he had conquered hnnself, and yet, when the spring came and the earth began to shoot and bud, and the tree, f. Oioom, and the birds to sing, his pai.. struggle as he might, he could not crush returned strangl and, e the ! - I 94 VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. One day he w! J'T *".S''°"'"g '''fe about him. that ^orZ'::iz^zz.;TL:V',' ""='"' house. There harl K» , ^ *' '^'^ P^st his and the duck^pond ^Z" °"^ 'P^" °' <^^>' --*-, great white flockof Lth, ,'""" ''"'^ '""'^ '""■■ "''^ solately round it o. Ikm '^'■''''" ^^"^^™g discon- the muddy watr which ^"^. '" ""'"""■■^ f^^hion i„ their swimmfng ; Tt "xhr j'"""* '° '""^'^ °f deepening of this lit e oIh ^™""^ "^' ''^^<^' a"^ the of no sm!ll d ffi u y C s^ '" ~"=«<'"^-- a work things depending on him ! H " ""' '""^"^ '° all live an underfaking^^l 'Tnv: I'^rSr^?'^"^' ^' He worked vigorouslv wM* ■ . ""'' ^^^rtion. almost completed h/t^k I .'"^ 'P'^^' ''"^ had hailed bya^otVhi h': tm^edlo marV°' '' ^"'^^^" Stand still. seemed to make his very heart coifh.h^riL^'^rd ^r' '''-"-^- "p->' whom I am anxious ^rtlucfyr." '"""^ ^"'^"^^ '° gre^^ortfetdg:. Xtaf *"■"; '"^T^" "''= ^^"^ a most becoming^Hint Lk. T ''°''^'=''ack. and wore a wide-brimmed' b'ack'hat tu T''"-''"^ '^■°*' '""" Simon's dazzled eyes she had 1 ^'"^ '^'"*"^^> "> Q'-'ite a little comoanv nf . "'T 'PP'"^"'^ ''° '°^«'y. but he at first Zw^ , " ''"^ ''='"^'' ™th her, .a.-ng at £ h-'lrrirthat 'hel ^I'l-"'''' his waistc'oat wa, unbuttl H v'" ""^ ^'' '"" ~at, throat ; yet one who arbesTdeMLVrh^' ""^ ^' '"^ as she cast her eyes upon th .. , ^^""°^^ thought, had ne.— >-i- -T P stalwart yeoman that she ne... uciieid so goodly a man. ' YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "Come hither, Mr. Simon," cried Rachel, raising herself m the saddle and beckoning; and then Simon returnmg to himself witn a start, thrt dow Ws tade' drew on h,s coat, and hastened across the orchard 0!; ^e young silky grass .ith swinging strides stoop^g his head beneath the blossom-laden boughs on he cam! through dappled sun and shade, until at^e^gth, leapW the hedge, he stood be.side Miss Charnock. As hf sprang ,nto the lane the lady who rode at Rachel^side backed her horse a little and turned her face awav whether through pride or shyness Simon did not c^^' to hazard for indeed he had no eyes for her or anv a°"littt"'tof '■"'°. ^°""^ ^^"''^-^ had rei: d ^ the temolt.'^ '"^' '"' ""''' ^'^""-^ '"-^ ^ai,y t^ " Come, let me make you acquainted one with the other, she cned. " Whom do you think, Mr. sTmon I have called you to see? You might guess, and 1^5"' tr"uth'" Wh'^""' '"' ^^' ^°" "°"'^ "-- hit upon the truth. Why, you must know that these friends of m ne th ir'Zh°"" T'"''- '''• ^"<^ ^--y -" °"- To: the,r mother and your mother were .sisters. Mr Simon Fleetwood, this is Miss Bertha Gifford, and this is Mr f r;old^'tt'- , \' ' '^? '''' ^°" ^'" ^'^^ bands'; eu"s Ti I h!r . ''" ' '^'""■'^ '"^"^' "^"^ ' trh^A r PJ««i fo,.„j .,,1 „„^ « 2i,n»r i «Vw "uc d rriendiy little hand. -retclicd YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "Indeed, Cousin," she said with a certain timid gracousness, '• I am very glad to I'/T''^' "'^ "^"' '^-hd eagerly °one n her Hre'"° ' "''°™' '° "^^ ^reat joy, she found a,one in her dressmg-room. " You can have no idea mv dear Mother she cnVd "„.(,,* . >= "u luea, my h=,= f,i, , , ' """' ^" ext.aordinary event has taken place. It is most wonderful and deLhtfu and romantic, and I have brought it ai! about ijmv own cleverness. Oh you would never guess, so I mus^ tell you. You must know that when I heard Gifford last ™ght pompously announcing that his mother had C a M.SS Weston of Hatherleigh, I immediately bethought me ofour poor Simon Fleetwood '• '"ougM " Why, to be sure," interrupted Mrs. Charnock, " these people must be cousins of Simon'. I ho-- th— not find it out, for I think a meeting couW not bu^'be Pamful and mortifying to all partief." II I Mi' 98 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Rachel's face fell ; she pulled off her fine hat and threw It pettishly on the table. " Pray do not say that, ma'am," she exclaimed after a moment's hesitation, "for I have but now been at the pams to mtroduce the cousins to each other. Nay do was about to mterrupt. "When we rode out this mornmg, Mr. Gifford chose to be my escort, while Humphrey attached himself to Bertha. I dislike M and boasted so much of his family and his wealth tha I longed to humble him. So I began to relate how I knew some of his connections, and set to work to I,g Simon s praises, first in joke, and then in earnest • for f confess, I soon became ashamed of my original motive I doubt, Rachel, if young Fleetwood would consider this a service ; you know he is very proud " "Ah, you will hear, you will hear," broke in Rachel ".ysteriously nodding her head. .'Well, to proceed with my story Young Gifford was first astonished and then interested, and when I told him what a most perfect gentleman Simon really was, how well educated and refined and added that he was a very old f iend of mine I could see that he was more and more im'esse and h Tuf" '° '°"™^ "'y P^'^'y '° *e Farm but lo stholaf anH v'"""'".'' °^ Fleetwood, his renown as a scholar, and his position in society-I am afraid I coloured aXstht' "«le highly in my .eal-than I sudde J orchard. ^ ^""°" ''""^"■' ^"'^'"^ '" •>- own " Working, Rachel ? " "Yes, ma'am, digging. He had neither },=^ oat d his hair was rumpled, and his shirt-skever rolled up' and i ."I ■• iiiii YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 99 on his great brown arms— he looked . r. Mother-the very picture nT Ju ^ ^'^P^' "'^"' you should have serrr C ff ^"^^°"^^ rustic-but out his cousin ' '• ^^^^'-^^ face when I pointed » Mr^f^« r , inopportune moment " and STo I rX ^X-lrit" '" "f "'-^ for I had a delightful surprise for he • v" "" """ '°"^' that a kinsman of yours'hVes L," said7 ""' '^ ^. fnd t:p:thXr 11 j — - ■•-oZ: if ■•^ no .an M thJ'n^l^Lo^ro^tS:- ^ was puckering up rrb^""s''r''"^'''' ^"d ^-'''^ doubtless shehad hea d the tor "of h'"'"^ =" '"^-f- grace-I called to Sf,„ J p, *^ ^' P°°'' *""''s dis- and i„ two Jnu^tes'he wf ~tt' ^H "^ -•g'''' lane. Ah, you shonlH hT ''"'"*"S "^^^'de us in the as he took'pL FtTtltV^Ulrd^ T^t ^ my sleeve, you may think unt I i, , "^'""^ '" Simon, and then I saw t was no I v"'''' '" '°°'^ « shook hands because loMHl^V:"!^':' TT'- "^ reconciled." ' ^^ ^^^^^ he was not anKl::y.'tc°hd hadr' " ''' ^'"' ^''-'^'- P'-'ed P-n^y .augh\ra?airg°S?-f.^V;-e„, but wtTlId fo T-;tar • "^ " - - and Mr. Gifford, pre ent^d v' ""Z ''^'"^^" ^imon what do you think haooln^l'^^'^"''^-^"'! then Simon Fleetwood tilt'' o^'.^':^^ f-'^^ and sight. Now, is not thnf ,"j~,-", , ^ ^^ °"''"='' at first that the very best postal l w ^^ ^ ^' ''™^" ' '= "°' y possible way m which the feud could ii ' if, , i f '"II lOO YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I! r| o\j Mie ana bimon can mart-\r o»i^ c- ' proper place in .he world a„^ we ia;iTa"ve'de '^'^ '" Bertha for a neighbour." '"'• P'^''^ Mrs. Charnock eazed at Vi^t- fi^o<- -^.1. i-h^^ VL s^'^cu at ner, first with astonishmpnt then with amusement finallx, h^ c '■"'"^nment, expression of relief. She' f:;i^otuS:/a7r o„r a most unrestrainedly and Rachel, w'ho Ld ,a ghed' ^o.^to beg,n w.th. became presently aggrieved and' spea^" th" ,':?'" "'■' '"■ '"°"^^''- ^^ -°" - ^he could whether Bertha's admiratio"^ for^; cous n c'^'k"'*' f:::nT h':d-d"'^'^°-^^' "^^"-■-'^'^^ -rdinrto ;:: account he d,d not appear to the best advanta|e." "^ him°o"o tTe rHetoTe'dVr ' "''' "'^^ -" the woods as he came std^g ^^oTZ '°":' !"' °' when he turned to Bertha rT u . °'''''''"''' • ^""^ And she-shfclure? • Tu' ^^"^ ^'' '^^^""f"'' the prettiest si^h I ^' ^'' '^'' shone-'twas romanc"' ^ ' ' ='""'= y°"- M°">er, it is a real sibl'"i!f"".^!"'"°''^ ^"^'"^'^ incredulous. "It ;. pos s.ble that what you say of Bertha may be true hm . you quite sure about Fleetwood ? " ' ' "" seve^een^:':' ^"on:'!'! S^ ^ "^ °^ ''^■• romance, and I flatter mvseri h "° """"' ^°' one. Pray, was I nor^^f^Llr^^ClTr T carter was courting Sally Lupton.. our dairymaid^ .■ "^ Mrs. Charnock laughed again. " Indeed vo,?!k , great penetration on that occasion "Ih'^M Z remember aright you saw them-e;.bratgt"the ll! YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jq, Well, well, doubtless vnn ar« ^r And now, said Rachel coaxingly " the nexf fhi to be thought of is how best to fufth^r the a"wr V^ consideni le relt onTwo ""' ■''.° ^°" '"' "^'"^' fact th»f t, " e P' °"^ ""2'if overlook the Mrs. Charnock considered a li>fl^ tvt u r , daughter's reasoning was tdtsp a le and\h°/ felT moreover a real interest in Si,non him;elf a dete for enougf,: .be^LT '^l'^''^^' had been foolish ugn to abet, had caused him to suffer in the oast • She'wIT "'■ ""' r °PP-'""'-'y of making abends' sue was angry w th her«plf fr.^ u„- ■ "-"'■'■^• certain lurkino- sense nfT ■ ^^ <:o">°""g heVht „f , ' ""'' ^'^'' '^"'■^'y 't would be the life in 1 ""'•^^^""'•'bfeness to expect him to waste hi! We n an attachment which she herself had been the o cc°e :::~r ■ ^'^^^ ^ '°"^ ^^"^^ »"« --- ''d deeTeH Vv^f ' '^'^"^'^' "^'^""S. however, that «h. deemed ,t highly probable the yeoman would dechne ii: M "il 102 CHAPTER IX. A lover and a lusty bachelor, W.th lock^s crull, as they were laid in press O twenty years of age he was. I guess ' Of his stature, he was of even length And wonderly deliver and great of st'rength. —Chaucer. jessed Ms intenL^tlj „^u;rt°rrM.''- sehintr tt,» „ '"°'g"ant wrth the yeoman for not at once tT2rJ^Z'T:T^ "'1"=' ^'-^ "^^^ ""- '<-d enough ^r^l:i: p":s t: z ^i^srx "' -''■ the Hall, by a curious chan K „d Mr^f^ff '1 had ridden out witli the Squire and h1 h "'^ forward RachH^ ^ ^ good-natured desire to iurwdra Kachels romance, she sa' still in r^- ■ • beside the window and sa^-. ^ /!' arm-cna,r the direction nf f^' ' occasional glance in e direction of the young people, she cannot h. said t^ h.vc done her duty as a chaperon. She took'noJe of YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 103 Bertha's start when Simon rode up ; he bestrode a beautiful thoroughbred horse, and was himself looking his best At sight of h •> o usin he dismounted, and passmg h . arm through u.c reins advanced to meet her. Mrs. Charnock could not but observe the grace and dignity of his carriage and demeanour. \o young lord- hng couH have comported himself more becomingly She heaved a little impatient sigh as she meditated on the absurd socu.l distinctions which debarred her from admitting him to more intimate relations with her family M/esse oblige, she said to herself the Squire's only daughter, the descendant on Madam Charnock's own side of an almost princely line, could not be suffered to contract a mhalliance. It was a comfort, she told her- self, that the girl had shown no inclination for hi n if Kachel's surmise were correct, and if the attachment she suspected terminated in a marriage between the cousins why, then of course all danger c .^ased to exist, and Simon must be admitted within their circle of friends Why was it that the prospect seemed to afford Mrs' Charnock so little satisfaction ? Simon and Bertha meanwhile were standing side by side on the smooth lawn, the horse occa sionally fidgeting and being soothed by a touch of his master's hand : even in her concern about more important matters, Mrs Char- nock noticed the good understanding vhich evidently existed between man and beast. Bertha's face was flushed, and she wa^ talking with eager animation, and Simon-yes, Simo. was listening attentively, bending upon her a gaze of t mder interest and concern. The onlooker tapped her foot on the floor and frowned. Pooh ! men were all ali e ! But she had given this man credit for greater fidelity, greater Jtrength of character— better taste, she might have added tor, indeed, she marvelled how he could find eyes for I -I \\ ^41 > '&. i\ 104 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. the insignificant prettiness of Rorth, /--a- j , daughter was near. However , ^'^°"^ *''"" ^^' should be; Rachel was r^ 1 "" "!, """'" ^ " Ch^rnock tried to thinl<%rwVlerS' ^"' ''^^• vexedMt Siln": r"°"" "' '"^ «on which not b, BerTha'TuTlXrp'rf^^''"^' ^°^''' this new-found kinswoL r ,, ' " ''''''"'=^'' *at dilating to him on raZf J,?"- F'-'-°= mull nrelLfgir f °1L'"'"'"°°^'" ^^ ^^'^^ " ^- minded, and she L, .. '1 '° generous, so simple- Was it 'not good of he toT: V'""^'" °' "=''^^^^'-- between usp' For nata ^y our Z": Ir'' P^^ be no concern of hers UnV u ^ differences can be good friends-Li trust ir "^'' ™""'"^ ^''°"" «. , , ,, atiX'w^hr;::^''-^-' little confused reverted To h fTrmr'; "" "^""^ ^ more animation than sh,. 1,1 '°P"' """> even did she know htw', sh""'°"'^'"P'^^^^- ^'ttle -.biect: while ■*: s^^t^ RaleT th:';*^'™"^ °' ^ constrained to remain by her sWeU ^ '"''" '™' began to apologise for her bro h ' 'ab nT^LX ""''' ''"' i)imon, w th centle l■n«,•>..^,„ . » ■»D'>ence and to request and to await Mr cr^"' ^'"^ '""'^ ^'' ^'"■'''^ to himself ^"^^°'^ ' '•^"'™' 'hat he was recalled " Unfortunately, I cannot stay " he said =, r.., ,., I have alreadv k^nt , t , ' * ''"'e coldly, forgive me." "^ ^' '°" ''""^'"^ t°° long. Pray, 5ion which illed forth need that rood's was which her end the lid, "how o simple- -haracter. ke peace nces can IS should her, for I for any s all for indness. ieJing a th even . Little :e of a m was ntil she request horse, 2ca]Jed :oldly, Pray, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jQr menf?" T ''°", "",' '' '""■'' ^""^ ''" ''"^ ^"'^ refresh- Uiarnock would wish " "It mlfhr? *" '"^^°" '^"°< ^^P"^d Simon. It must be close upon the time now. No, thank you I Wjll not .ntrude upon Mrs. Charnock, I must say good-bye^ Pray, e.xpress to your brother my rLre^ at not ilndmg him at home." ^ In another moment or two he was gone, and Mrs Charnock s,ghed again as she watched Bertha look after him with a very pensive face '^■.^'"^^ 71 '^'"'''''' ='""°>'»">='= at the discovery that b,mon had been so ill-advised a,s to call upon Mr. Gifford durrng that gentleman's absence interl,tw'"47said"'' "rh'^'rir"?' ^' *^'^ «^»' K«f lu ^ ^^^^^"^ have kept the peace ix'" N;:"f It sirihrorr'^^"^" -- f i^uw 1 must see that Gifford returns thp :::;• uT; -tt'''-' '^™p^^'>'- ' ^^"-<=." ^^e addi' oblige me." '' ""^ "'" "°"'' ^° ^ g'-^^t deal to '•Indeed? That is strange, my dear, for he does As Mrs. Charnock spoke she cast a keen glance it her daughter, but Rachel bore the look without lfnh„g and contmued to drum absently on the table ^' It IS certainly rather singular," she agreed " for Cousm Humphrey, who is much more agreeabi; wH thbg^." " ^ ^'■°" "^^eature-he says such curious Pray, what manner of things, child ? " " Oh, I don't know-silly things-and he does silly illi io6 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^dlVeT^JrZ'l' '"' ''"^'^"^^' ^^ P-l^ed up an though I tllH V ^ °"" *"'^^' ^"'^ ^--^ ■•' all day, as w^rSome afke?hi;,T' '°"'T- "^ ■">■ '"^"•-' chat in fl,. ;T' , ■" '° S""*"' him half an hour's not do for mv T ^^'^ "°"''"g he would wheZ he I ^ "'"'■ ""' ' ""> ^"^ ' d° "Ot care to !ly that -1°' "°' '"' ' ""■"'' " "- ^--''y °f him She paused abruptly, struck by the expression of her^ mother's face; Mrs. Charnock'looked sfaSTand " W^aTcan vo'''7..''''L'' "°"^'"^ "^ ""■=■" 'he said. "Tr,lv r T '^'■ ^^^' '° '^y '° Mr. Gifford?" eyes'iol'JrirP^'-' -^■^'"-"^ «">- "- -)' hut"ster?:d irr rS r -^-^ -" '^ ""■« -^- My love, it is possible that Gifford may admire them-young men do occasionally admire a girr7ryel ip.' - - ft- ^^^^^^^^^ r! ise thaH Th™V''"'^ ^°' other people'm^ I ifo'j^'lrMf r i^Ti '^" '^""^ "''^^ ^ " O''' "'^'a-. that for I T°:; '*°^' "°' """I' «">"hi"g abou not want to '"' ' ''° "°' "=•"' '° "--y him I do hat"::;e ° ^'"' '"r °"^ ^' P^^^-'' Later on, per- P-, Hi.ei. , .,„ quae grown-up, I dare say I .shall YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jq^ course' "But i^"' f,/ ^°"u ^'"' '" "^ ^" °'^ ™-d. °f And pray what manner of man must he be ? " to find that It was needless to continue at present the process of enhghtenment which she had always dr ad d . Oh don t know ; I think I should like him to be a that I am determined." ' °' nerself that, after all, it was as well for poor Simon's own sake that she had from the outset m'ade c le^ to P^senZ hT " ™: '''r '''"'''""''"' '° ^" '^-g^ter Fleetwood', r™'; '^" ^°"^°' """ '"'^^^^' '" Yeoman Ts to her h, K H '' ^^'' ""^ P'"^^"'' '" ^'' ^'''•^'y as to her husband's motive for seeking a private con versafon wth this young GiiTord, wh^.^t'say th" truth she hked as little as her daughter After her mother's hint, Rachel avoided Mr Gifford's company as much as possible, and only conversed wTth h,m when absolutely obliged. This treatment, however h,s ardour, and h,s devot.on to the girl became ar-arent o very one m the house. Humphrey Charnockf mean- wh le. was pay,ng languid court to Bertha Gifford • his repairmg by a prudent marriage. Bertha had plenty of money, a sufficiency of good looks, no father '„ make mconven,ent inquiries, but rather a most accommodrttg b,oher. Humphrey decided that she would do very well, and had, in fact, introduced the Giffords to hi^ s faimly that he .night the more easily press his for though Bertha's wits were not of the sharpest U I, ■3H£ un sui io8 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. they were st.ll sufficiently keen to enable her to perceive the advantage of an alliance with the heir to^uch = property as Cbarnleigh. So Humphrey wooed t a verv qu,et and unobtrusive fashion, feeling occasional"- Zld but always absolutely secure of the prize; and Bertha timidly accepted such attentions as he was good enoui to offer her without in the least realising L^r motivt coTsfn stfn: '''""' ''''''''' ""^ *<= thoughtTft; Be?th! r^'"^' ^ '■'* '^"y' ^^''' Fleetwood's visit the can i-'"'°''r'' *'' '^^ ''™"^^-- »''°"'d return tte call, addmg that for her part she thought he self att"' RachTTho '^™"^ '° '''' ''' ^'^^^^ ^^ luni. Kachel, who was present, warmlv seconded tl,^ proposal, evincing so much anxiety, and speak"^ w th so much animation, that Gifford protested hi radinit to journey to the world's end if such were her pleasure Humphrey somewhat stiffly observed that h Med to see the necessity of Miss Gifford's wasting her t^^ on such an errand, since the relationship dd not e.tlnd to good old Belinda Fleetwood, and there could tfr sequence be no motive for Bertha ITu ! "" Seeing that she maintained a blushing silence L added m a lower and more gentle tone :_ ' ^^"^ "I feel sure that you will p-ive nn fj.« i request. Believe me, ,t distresses me to think of vour being in such company." ^^^^ To his surprise, however. Bertha received his petition log I i li!tf! , |i CHAPTER X. He sins no sin but gentle drunkenness. . —Omar Khayyam. Dolly, the cherry-cheeked little maid at the Farm appeared in answer to Mr. Gifford's summons and stared round-eyed at the fine visitors. The master was up yonder at the barn looking after the threshing • he would be in directly. Miss Fleetwood was at home but Doily reckoned she was busy. Nevertheless, she would fetch her in a two-three minutes. Then, raising her voice in a shrill summons of "Bill, Bill,'' Dolly clung to the bridle of either horse with a stout red hand and, jerking her head over her shoulder, requested the callers to walk in. " The owd lad will be here afore aught's long " she explained, " an' I'll just bide wi' th' 'osses till he cooms. If ye'll walk straight in, ma'am— first door to the reet." Bertha obeyed her injunctions, and Edward followed sniggering to himself. Out of the bright sunshine and the tingling air of the north country spring they made their way into the large, wide, quiet parlour. Here it was cool, not to say cold, for the first of April was past and fires were tabooed. Moreover, two of the mullioned windows were set open. Edward shivered, but looked about him curiously. "Not a bad room," he said. "I wish the fellow would come. Ugh, how cold it is ! I must have a nip of something to warm me. I'll engage this fellow brews better ale than is to be had at the Hall, but for h I i| i' : f *> & l: ^ no YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Simon entered EdwarH ,H . '"'" """'°" «"d exaggerated heartfnls whfct Te' '° '"'I ''™ -''h Fleetwood's somewha ' forll ' reTtr. '"^' '" ^^"^ °' feel no touch of resentment . ^ . ^;, ^™°" '=°"''' mere sight of Edward J.^"*' ^"'*''^' f*"' 'he afresh the memory ^f hi Ztr'"'''"" '° ^°"J"- "P Charnock wished them t^hr- T"^"' S""' ^''^hel be the motive, tttS^'mut trr ^-^-^ -■^''' the'way of'Z^XZ^lZ'^/X''/^'''^' '" mark the difference jJJT; ^'^°"^' "i""'^ '° the other Bertha , hlf '°"''^ "'°"^'^'- fr"'" »"« to as she spoke and her coir ' ""^ ^"^h' = =he stammered thinking to hfr^selfnh, ■''"!' '"^ "^"' ' ^"^ ^'"">"- Z:^Z'' '- ■•— ate-X-t tldlrhe h"ad he'add'ellmS^ " Sh^^ wi^ '7 '"''' "'' >'°" '^"-." time to get ready/' ' ''"''^' '■''<3""'e a little Meanwhile Giffbrd, saunterins? to th» • j farther end of th^ .^ ""cer mg to the wrndow at the back premises becameTh'e ' ^'''^ °"' '"'° -"e "ttle fcene which raTtht^d '^TT °' ' T°"' tripping over the rnhhu . ''"'""'^'^- F'^st came Dolly, "Missu!". In answer to r' ^"'^ '^°"""^ '"^"'^ f- presently appeared-Tnoiallr"" ^" °'' '^"^^ huge apron ; whose sleeves wt^In^d'uTh'^l''"^ ^"^ ^ of stout arms, and whose bla!! cTo w.^L 'f t^^Pf sparse grey hair. ,n one hand thi^ lady c' r ^ ^mit YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,i, pan, which she was critically inspecting, and to which she was apparently inviting Dolly's attention. It was w.th evident difificulty that the latter succeeded in noti- fying to her the arrival of distinguished company, but presently the fact was grasped, and consternation emued The pan was thrust into Dolly's hand, and the pattens went clattenng over the stones at astonishing speed Gilford turned away from the window with a yawn as the portly figure vanished ; the old body would take ages to att,re herself, and meanwhile he was cold and thirsty He was constantly thirsty, and indeed the one drawback to h,s comfort at Charnleigh Hall was the inability to quench that thirst with the frequency to which he was accustomed. He had often seen Madam Charnock's eyes fixed on hnn with a searching and curiously dis- approvmg gaze. He felt that she watched him, and also m some mdefinable way, that she disliked him, and would be quick to take advantage of any slip on his part. Moreover, though he had excellent reasons for cons.denng that it would be to the Squire's advantage to keep on good terms with him, he never felt thoroughly sure of that gentleman, and his infatuation for Rachel was such that he would not risk a quarrel with him until a certain conipact that he knew of was actually signed and sealed. But he was getting very tired of the enforced abstmence, and was glad to think the necessity for pre- caut-on would soon be over. And here, at least, he need not be too punctilious. " It's confounded cold, Cousin Fleetwood," he remarked advancing into the room and buttoning up his coat "Do you always keep the windows open here ? " Simon, who had been sitting beside Bertha, rose quickly and apologised. 4"'^«-i/ "We are too busy to sit much in this room in the morning," he said. '' I am generally out, and my aunt V^:\ It m i' m I:! 112 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. is occupied in the house, so the windows usually stay open from breakfast till dinner." ^ ;*You dine early, don't you," cried Edward, "and mighty sensible, too. They keep monstrous late hours at the Hall ; a man may be starved or parched with thirst and yet often they will not sit down before six o clock. I must own I like the notion of a good meal in the middle of the day." ^ " Then will you stay and share ours ? " inquired Simon courteously. " It will be ready in less than an hour." ' Nay, they expect us back early, I think. But since you re so hospitable, Cousin, we will not refuse some slight refreshment. I must own that my ride has whetted my appetite. ^ " If you will excuse me I will see to the matter at once, said Simon. " I cannot think why my aunt delays so long. Ah, here she comes." At that moment, inde:], the door opened, and in came Miss Belinda, her face shining from its recent soaping and her breath coming quickly, partly from the haste she had made, partly from nervousness. She curtsied low to both the visitors, starting as her eyes fell on Bertha. ''If I might make so bold, miss," she said, -and indeed It does seem a liberty, but when all's said and done she was your own aunt, and blood's thicker than water, as the sayin' goes. It seems a queer thing to say and you such an elegant young lady and all, but still there it is, you see-and you're the very moral-the spit an image, if I may say. The wonder is that Simon never told me, but wonder who shouldn't, for there's never a word to be got out of Simon from one week's end to another. But as how it is. Miss Weston-Miss GifTord I mean-I'm fain to see you, though I cannot choose but cry-thinkin' of the poor thing as is gone. ^ard, "and late hours rched with before six- good meal red Simon, n hour." But since some slight hetted my matter at my aunt d in came t soaping, the haste e curtsied ?s fell on lid, "and said and cker than ng to say, but still —the spit It Simon )r there's le week's 3n — Miss I cannot is gone. m YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Eh dear it might be her, as was standin' here nnh, nose has a kind of lift in it, and her chin haVa 1T dimple. But all Lh is grtl, '::! Jl^^^^^^ ^ of everythmg e se. And hanhr ^- S^^^ tne way II •. ^^P^y, miss, you are iusf- pq well wi out one. Eh H^-pr ^u ^ ,, ^ ^ ^^ B,„neyd.-s.a„y,..™',te' you ';"■•■ ''"''"'' ^'^^ Edward, who had at first stared in .of • u the voluble o.d ,ady, burst in "^ a . ud tuffaw'T'th ' conclusion of her tirade • hut r« .u ?, ^^ ^^^ begin with, at lengthtegan „ h" - -'- ^^^ '""''^' '" Miss Belinda's meaning ""^ '^"" "°"°" °f " You think that I am like mv annt " „u -j ,. Miss Bi„ne/s hand ki„dly.'^..7ar„"o'; sut^' 'S tell me I am very like my mother's family " ^ S>mon glanced at her quickly, and then averted hi, 'Z^trLr^'^i"'- ""•'' ^-^'-^^ Pushed'fortard chairs for her visitors, and herself sat down on the extreme edge of the carved oak settle " i-.ke. Miss Gifford ! " she exclaimed.' " It might be , her as was here before me-an' the voice an' all-dear o' ■ne! An even to th' feather in your hat. I mind Lv £X-:S?ta:,r^---^f ^^•s^;xtrr=at^;^ vc^l^"r^^'"f°^ ^^ °P™ « ''°"I«. I wonder?" put in young Gifford, who found Miss Fleetwood's disS^r " tTl 1'""'°'"'' '"" -- ^"-°- '0 bring matters back to the pomt at which they had been interrupted by m- fT !'■ 114 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. her entrance. - I'm curious to see how he sets about that operation, and as we have not much time to spare 1 hope It may take place speedily." Simon had from the first resented the mixture of familiarity and insolence in his cousin's tone, and was now somewhat affronted by this very broad hint Some thing in the other's eager manner, moreover, and a latent apprehension which he seemed to detect in the glance which Bertha cast upon her brother, aroused a sudden suspicion which did not tend to make the request less distasteful. " I fear, Mr. Giff-ord," he replied coldly, " that I can- not offer ycu any refreshment that you will think it worth while to partake of, though the best I have is at your service We live very simply here, and there is no wine in the house." "Pooh, as to that, I am not particular, my dear fellow A glass of brandy or even of hollands would warm one famously." "I was about to add that we drink no spirits," said bimon in the same tone. "Then what in the Devil's name do you drink, man ? " cried Edward ir i^ably. " There is light beer of our own brewing," said Fleet- wood quietly ; "and there is plenty of milk, and my aunt keeps the household supplied with ginger ale " ^ "And you forget. Nephew, the orange brandy," put m Miss Belinda eagerly. "I have but just finished making it, and, though I say it as shouldn't, there isn't Its equal in the country-side. 'Tis a most excellent cordial I assure you, sir-wonderful for the spasms, or for a chill or that. I make a gallon every year, an' the village folk they think the world of it." "It is sweet stuff-, good enough for a cordial, but I should not care to off^er it to anybody to drink," returned 'A 11 sets about ne to spare mixture of e, and was nt. Some- nd a latent the glance I a sudden squest less :hat I can- II think it have is at 'here is no sar fellow, warm one rits," said ik, man ? " lid Fleet- and my ger ale." ndy," put finished liere isn't excellent »asms, or r, an' the l1, but I returned YEOMAN F^PETVOOD. her nephew hastily, struck h the base hi in Bertha's eyes, "5 ng e nressiop Nay, but if the gentleman's feel j I have taken cold very lik 'ng so hilly he'll him to rights An'Tf Z''' ""' '^ '"^ °'' ""'' ^"" J"^' «' as to taS it-le loot Z"' f' V°r" ""= ^° ^^^ really ao her ,oJ. '°,t fe^'h "^t f ^TtT''' ^™"'^ ■•coS:t.sr;h:-t::t.^r"V-™"-"^^^^^ do not look so sour. Since thkH.' ! ^°"' ^°"^'"' -er™, rol, .hy not^-e^n'^WtrC- '^^I^^ ^er^T^nt tt f ^'T"^'' -ay'tTthr-h^? Which ensue?s!Lf enZ:: r:a":rr"^ '-' success to entertain his guests a^,7if J^'^ ^'^^' of relief and apprehensfon ^k ' ht aM Thf H' t'''"". S": re^i-r '^i--- - ^-y :k -delicate sH^e Hf oM ^ etTe' ^'k""""! °" '"^'^ '^^^ iannock ,a speces of oatcaTe-of' M sBehnl' "' 'r^' a cream cheese snugly ensconcerl n -^ ""'*''.'■ "^king), but the eyes of all present fixed th ""i '"'"^ '"*"^ ■ accord, though with'dT^f^ ',, .^Tn ^if '^°"'"°" glass decanter in the cent.. „ u I ' ^^ '^''^"y' <="'- liquid, golden and c!ear ' ""'""'^' "' ""^'-"'^ Phantiy' °r,/^:;P,«;" -"--^ Binney trium- -that an- the recioe fn °rl '"''^ ""^ ^^^^^ ^"' >"=ars . tne recipe for a Chnstmac oM^^pn' "-■ • many folks as knows of th;,t • h„f"""' ' , " ' '^'''^ one year ve knmv . I ' "^^ ""^^^ ^^'^ P^^den' y ar, ye know, to be eaten the next. Ye might see Ii6 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ours in the larder now, as black as my shoe and won- derful rich. It was always the custom in our family to make 'em that way. Now, Simon, why don't you fill out for your cousins? There ye stand an' see them lookm* at it, an' don't offer to do anythin'." " Pray. Miss Gifford, let me persuade you to taste a little of my aunt's famous cordial," said Simon, with as good a grace as he could muster. But Bertha refused with a scared look, and he then turned to her brother, who eagerly took the glass and immediately drained it. "Most excellent, indeed," he cried. ''Why, man it must make people glad to be ill if you doctor them with such stuff as this. It warms one's very heart. I will trouble you for another glass, Cousin, and many thanks for your good treatment. Here's to you. Cousin Simon, and to you, madam; and last, but not least, to the black-eyed beauty who made us acquainted." He emptied his glass again, and held it out to be once more replenished. " Nay, now that I think on it, she deserves a health all to herself. Here's to Rachel, pretty Rachel, and all her whims, be they what they may ! Twas her whim, Cousin, you know, that brought us two together— why, no one can tell, but she would have it so, and I'm pleased to do her bidding. I would do more than that for her— and you're a right good fellow at bottom, 1 dare swear, though not quite the kind of kinsman one expected to hob-nob with. But since Rachel will have it, we'll not complain." Simon's colour had risen so high that Bertha remarked It, and, deeming that it rose from indignation at her brother's tone, plucked Edward warningiy by the sleeve. But he shook her off with a noisy laugh. vvc „rc «xi m^noa ncic, at; saia, "and foi tiie matter of that I care not who knows that I am Miss Rachel YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,,. Charnock's slave. Slave to-day, ha ! ha ! Perhaps master before so very long. By your leave, Fleetvvood,Twm nil up Tgrain, ' " He stretched out his hand for the decanter, but Simon hlTadf "" ""' ^ '''"' ^'"^"^ ™-ed it o^t of "In justice to my aunt," he said with rather a con stramed sm.le, " I must save her cordial Lm X reproaches wh.ch it would earn if you partook too frcj of ,t. It IS necessarily made of new and fiery spirit and .s, besides, as you must notice, luscious and swee 'u"s only meant to be drunk in small quantities: we do not ndeed possess glasses of the proper si.e ; thes are very arge, you see. I would not on any account have ,t sa d looh! Ill nsk .t," exclaimed Edward leaning fn. ward with an angry flush. ^ '°'^" "Nay, but I will not," returned his host with calm determ,nat,on, and, rising, he locked up the decanter ,™ the o^d fashioned chiffonier; then, returning toTeUble he added laughing, with an attempt to gtos, over tV.' awkwardness of the incident. " you see I know the qualtv ofthebrewand the ill efferts i-Lf • J^""" ^"« quality rwrh ,1,. ; ^' ™'g'^' «nsue when you reach he open air. And since you an not only to b" your sister's escort along our rough Lancash re lane but to present yourself among ladies' society on your return nrdiL/pttiLr. "^ '"' '-- °^ ^y >>-- - -^ " Irl^^T "" '"!"'""^ '""°*'" "''^'^ Gifford violently neve'set fool'"' "f™"'"'" ""''"'' ^^ ™™'"S here. Hi' -isr; wh°:trHk^:" ""- ''-'"■ '^' ''-'^' ^'"■ Simon turned suddenly towards him with fl,=h.-n. ..-es uu compressed lips, but Bertha, not knowing the ;;a cause of his anger, intervened hastily :_ wm Ii8 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Pray Cousin Fleetwood, do not notice him" she whispered anxiously. « He does not know what he is saying just now. Dear Edward," she added aloud "do you not think it is time for us to be going ? " Jr^^''J''fT'^' '^ '' ^'"^^ '° ^^ ^°'"g' "^^re than time 1 m ott, I know, and you can follow when you like Confound it all, Bertha, how you can brook to stop here another instant, after that d-d ill-mannered yokel's treatment of us. I cannot conceive! D-d impertinent country bumpkin-'tis evident he has no acquaintance with gentlemen. But I'll not condescend to parley with unl^tand''""'''''"^' '' '""^ °"^^ ^^^^"^^"^ ^^ -"^^ Mr Edward Gifford, however, made no attempt to urn from violent words to violent deeds, and, Jth a last scornful glance in the direction of the young yeo- man, rushed out of the room, taking no notice of Miss Belinda s repeated and deprecating curtsies. " ^u''\ ^f "^^'"y °" "' •' " '^^ ejaculated. " It is a pity you should have put him in such a stew, Simon, and him such a nice, pleasant-spoken gentleman. Eh dear, eh dear, there he goes very nigh on his head ! It's a mercy If the stones yonder don't trip him : he cannot so much as find h.s way to the stable. Well. Simon. I do think wonderT'' ^°" ' '""^ ^^"'' ^" '^' ^°^^^ ^' ^'^^' ^ With murmurs and lamentations Aunt Binney had followed the departing guest from the hall to the yard • and Bertha, profiting by her absence, turned tearfully to Simon. ^ •' I beg you to excuse my brother," she said. " Do not -do not think ill of him. If it were not for this one weakness-which of course he has shown too plainly to-day — he would mve. me no tpt' p-^-.-^f-- tt , ° - *"^ *"^ leai aii.victy. nc nas an exce lent heart." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 119 Simon cared little for Mr. Gifford's good qualities except in so far as they affected one particular point ' and to this point he now alluded in his usual straio-ht-' forward fashion. ^^ " Is it true ? " he asked, bending his keen eyes inquir- ingly upon her, - that your brother intends to offer himself as a suitor for Miss Charnock's hand?" "He is much attracted by her," replied Bertha, a httle surprised. " It is. I may say, an understood thing —I think his suit has the approval of her parents— at all events, of Mr. Charnock. So at least I've understood my brother to say." "And Miss Charnock herself?" he pursued quietly His calm strong face betrayed none of his secret agita- tion, and Bertha, all unconscious of his personal interest in the matter, replied innocently, "Oh, I don't know— I think she likes him." " Does she know of this fault of his ? Do you really believe that her parents would allow her to marry a drunkard ? " "Oh, Mr. Fleetwood, do not use so harsh a word Indeed, my brother is not that. It is but of late years he has formed this bad habit—you know so many gentlemen are fond of wine." "That is true," agreed Simon with a sigh. " And then a happy marriage would be the best means of reforming him ; there can be no doubt of that. And dear Rachel has so much character. But there is my brother calling, I must not make him more angry. Good- bye, Cousin, try to forgive him ; he will be the first to regret his conduct." She thrust out her hand, which Simon took without noticing its trembling, nor yet the tearful pleading of the pretty blue eyes. He made no attempt to follow her to the door, but stood gazing fixedly before him until his I ni 120 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 11 aunt returned bewailing the hasty departure of their guests, and requesting that the remains of her mahgned orange cordial might be forthwith returned to her tell -^n"' 'T' r"" ^™' ^'P''""' ''"^ ^"« I '-^^nnot ell, no wonder the gentleman was in a passion. IVe Th17 °""1 g[^"<^''«*^'- ^tamp and rave fit to burst a blood-vessel when my grandmother so much as hinted as he d had enough. But she'd no more have thought of takmg away the bottle-an' him her own husband mnd you-than she would have of jumping over the m^on an you to go that bold an' lock up^hf brandy thTve"; first t,me that nice, handsome young gentleman sets fm . th house Let me tell you, Simon, if it wasn't for makmg a d.sturbance before strangers, l''d havep id you the value of the stuff right down and had it strfight ou thT'- J'T"" '"■^"''y ' '^"°»' "=" enough-!every. thing . this house is yours-but next year, if 1 live Ml make a ga Ion for myself, please Heaven-at els ' ' not have the family disgraced by letting company b turned away fro.n the door that gate " S,mon unlocked the chiffonier and restored the decanter to h,s aunt ,n sdence ; but she was not appeased. erumwld' ''T ' '"' '"' °"*^ ''^' ^'^ 2™°"," she blTh.r ^-ff IT. """■ "'" "^y °f "'^ Fleetwoods to drop o d nk i'; ^'■='"^f"her, I tell you, liked a drop o dr nk as well as any one, and no one was more mT hal "a" '^ ^'^'^''-^''-d. And my father, honei: man, had a glass every now and then and was none the worse for ,t. As for my dear brother, you know as well boil nf 1!' I ^^ "'°"S'" "° ^^'"^ °''«" °«-'io"al bowl of punch with a neighbour, though he was a very to7d"r t^b "';• ."*"' '^ '" >'°"' ' "^" -gh beh ve you d ather d,e than make merry. But I'll have my own gallon of orange brandy next year as how 'tis." .vnd so you shall, Aunt Binney," .said Simon. "You YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 13 x shall even have two, if you like ; provided you are dis- creet 1 your hospitality." He smiled at the old lady as she walked away with her tray, but became very grave when once more alone Crossmg the room to the mantelpiece he stood leaning agamst it, endeavouring to collect his thoughts What was It the man had said— and the girl too? Was it possible that such a creature as Gifford aspired to Rachel's hand ? He spoke coolly of the day when he should be her master. Her master ! As though to call her per- petual mistress and queen were not too sweet too bright a lot almost to be contemplated by mortal man And It was considered possible that this angel of light would be mated with yonder idle coarsely-spoken sot-she might, perhaps, reform him. Good Heavens what was every one about } Why, the mere thought of it drove him mad ! But let him collect his wits-surely poor Bertha de- luded herself In another moment he almost lauo-hed aloud over his own folly in being thus scared. Of course the thing was impossible ; under no circumstances would Gififord have been considered a fit match for Miss Char- nock. Why the man was Simon's own cousin ! i m\ ' ! 122 CHAPTER XI. I see you what you are : you are too proud • But If you were the devil you are fair. —Shakespeare. An hour or two later on that same day Rachel was very comfortably ensconced in one of the deep window seats Inl ;r°''""'^"''°°'" ■■ *'"■■ ""'•^ ^"S<^'' «"=>•« busily employed on a cunous piece of work-no other than the makmg of a shoe. Many quaint rehcs of the past were to be found stowed away in the lumber-rooms of Charn- le.gh Hall, and recently she had come across a set of m,n,ature cobbler's tools and some small narrow lasts which »actly fitted her own shoe. These, on inquiry, she had found belonged to her grandmother, who had herself made use of them at a time when it was a whim among ladies to fashion their own shoes of all kinds of colours and materials to match their gowns. Now Rachel un.ted a child's passion for novelty with the more womanly craving to occupy those active hands of hers m some task not altogether useless. If her grand- mother had made shoes, so would she. She accordingly pohshed up the little tools, took lessons from the village cobbler, and rapidly perfected herself in the art As she now sat on the cushioned ledge, the small feet danglmg from beneath her frilled skirt were encased in blue shppers of her own making, while she was actually covenng one of the lasts aforesaid with rose-coloured satin. The very incarnation of spring looked she, with the ESPEARE. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 123 Strong sunlight pouring down upon her soft curls out- hnmg with hght the graceful contours of throai and shoulder, and flashing upon the little awl that she plied so rapidly. It was one of her prerogatives that the colour she wore at any given moment seemed to become hers by a special right, and to bring under notice, and enhance, certain qualities in her beauty vvhich had been hitherto unsuspected. Thus, when she donned crimson it seemed to vie with the soft rich colour of those lovely lips of hers, and when she wore pink the delicate roses on her cheeks seemed brighter- and from under her great black befeathered hat those dark eyes of hers flashed with more witching grace than ever. To-day she wore a muslin gown, white and clin-ing -her usual indoor attire indeed-and her neck and pretty arms, with their warmer tone of white, looked nevertheless the fairer for the contact ; and it was confined by a sash ot light blue, which did not match anything at all about her except her shoes, and the sky which could be seen through the leaded panes above her head. In her bosom she had placed a bunch of apple-blossom, dewy and tresh from its recent picking ; and as she worked she sang a little tune under her breath, and swung one foot in time to the measure. Breaking in suddenly upon her contented solitude came Humphrey Charnock, with a lowering brow and every appearance of angry perturbation. "So there you are, Miss Rachel ! " he cried, slamming the door behmd him and crossing the room hastily. " I have been looking for you." " Have you, indeed, Cousin ? " returned Rachel, poising the awl in her hand, and looking up serenely. " Yes, I have indeed. I have a bone to pick with you I can tell you." ' " Then sit down and pick it comfortably," said Rachel, 1- 1 i L 1 124 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. pushing forward with the point of her slender foot a chair which happened to stand within reach of it Her cousin did sit down, but his face did not relax • on the contrary he regarded Rachel with eyes which blazed with anger, and he bit his lip as though in the her B^r! h7 '''' "^^'^ ""'''' ^"°"^h'° ^1-- her. But Rachel was not m the least disturbed ; nobody Her that the experience might be amusing. So she sat very composedly stitching, and, after a time, finding'he did not speak, raised her bright eyes for a moment from her work and said inquiringly •— " Well ? " " Well, Rachel, I would have you know that you have done me a very ill turn by your mischievous folly " Rachel dropped the shoe into her lap : " Why what ' What f^r' ""'"'^ ' " ^'^ '-''' ^" ^--'- --~ What folly can j'ou mean ? " "What but the absurd notion of introducing the Giffords to tljat armer fellow. Let me tell you, your quixotic idea of efifectmg a reconciliation have not succeeded-Gifford seTfnnr .f' i" ^ '"■'"^' '"'^' """^ ™'^'^ h^ ^"''l "ever set toot in the place again." ;; What a pity! " cried the girl, much crestfallen. sistef "h, ' " "°' "'i- ^''" ^'"P'^ soft-witted little s.ster has gone out of her mind, I think. GifTord savtiTe K " P°^!'i^'='y nioon-struck-flew at him, he 2h he t Tn "T"" ^' '■"'"^ ^^' f"^ her familia ity iZ T7J '""' "° '°"S. though Fleetwood had grossly insulted h,m ; aye, and took the fellow's part against her own brother Ned says 'tis his belief that the^little foo has lost her heart to him." To Humphrey's surnn<;f^ Po^hpi'. r^^^ •.._.. , ., . shocked and horrified as he anticipated, wreathed itself YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 125 with smiles ; she took up her shoe again, with evident relief, and presently began to hum with every appear- ance of enjoyment. " You seem very much pleased at what I tell you " said Humphrey testily. " Perhaps 'tis no news to you ?'" " Bertha has not made any confidences to me on the subject," replied Miss Charnock discreetly. " But if you are right in your suspicions I own I should be pleased." Her calm, decided tone irritated Humphrey beyond measure: that this chit not much more than midway through her teens should dare to interfere with his plans, and thus openly to express satisfaction at their frustration —it was not to be borne in patience. He would soon make her see her folly, and awe her into subjection. "This seems to me a very foolish saying of yours," he remarked, with the cold displeasure which usually impressed her. " I doubt if you could give any reason- able motive for your satisfaction." " Now, there you are wrong, Cousin Humphrey," re- torted she. " I can give two most excellent motives. To begin with, if Bertha has lost her heart to Simon Fleetwood, she has doubtless cause to believe that he has lost his to her. If they marry she will have a very good husband, and I shall have a very nice neighbour. I rejoice on both accounts, for I am fond of Bertha." " Perhaps you have suspected something of this attach- ment, then ? " " Perhaps I have, and perhaps I have not ; but you may be quite sure that since I now hear on such reliable authority that there are good grounds for believing in its existence, I shall do my very best to further it." "Then you are makin^^ a great mistake," cried Humphrey angrily. " It is m.ost perverse and wicked of you to meddle with so serious a matter. You are doing your friend an injury." fe 11 126 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Rachel twisted the end of her wax thread and ^azed mockingly at the young man. ^ ;' Why so much warmth, Cousin ? " she inquired " It stnkes me that you are very much interested in Be tha t. "IZT"-''' ' "^^^"^^ P^^h^P^ say-,fortune ' She nibbled at the end of the thread, her head turned a little sideways, and her eyes twinkling "Do you know." she continued presently, "the idea never occurred to me before, but I really begin to think that you intended Bertha to occupy a much m^ore exalted position, namely, that of your wife." Humphrey resented the impertinence, but he would not let her see how much it stung him. ''And if such were indeed the case, Rachel " he said coldly "surely you, a Charnock of Charnleigh, mustte to Mil r 7V^''r ^"^^"^^ "^^^ "^^ --'^ be 1 e o Miss Giffords advantage than a repetition of the ndiscre ion which her unhappy aunt, I believe, neve ceased to regret." ' _^ "Why, now, let us see," returned Rachel meditatively Let us consider the situation calmly. You happen to be m want of her sixty-thousand pounds and as you cannot very well ask her to bestow ' them upon you without at the same time bestowing he" additfon""'" ^°'^ ™°"^' '° ^^^^P' "^'^ ""--^^"e "That is a very rude and untruthful picture of the s.tuat,on ■ began Humphrey; but she interrupted Wm 1 Wa.t, wait, I have not finished; you have more tangible merits than this noble tolerance. Bertha wif of course, be made to understand that some da^ or otle ' when my father is dead, you will reign here in h°s stead and she w.ll be Mrs. Charnock of Charnleigh Ha But do you know. ronsJn H„~^l,„.. T, ., ^. "• ""' woridl,, =.„^ ..:-■■■. ■•"™Pn'=>, ocrtha is not at all worldly, and >t ,s quite possible that, after all, she may YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 127 prefer to accept the honest hand of a good man who loves her." The quiet incisive words that came so trippingly from Rachel's smiling lips had a smart and a sting in them that made the blood leap to Humphrey's face, but he contt >..ed himself with an effort. "My little cousin," he said, "your views are those of a romantic child. It is quite possible that a strong mutual attachment may exist in a union which may offer equally strong mutual advantages. But, as I say, it would be foolish to expect you to understand such things." " Well, Humphrey," replied the girl, turning about the little shoe in her hand and surveying it with evident satisfaction, " I can but congratulate you on the admir- able manner with which you have hitherto concealed your attachment for Bertha GifTord. Truly, it appeared to my ignorant eyes as though you found her conversa- tion tedious, and regarded her altogether with a kind of contemptuous indifference. But that, of course, was because I did not understand." Charnock threw himself back in his chair with an affected yawn, succeeded by a slight smile. "There are many things you do not understand, Rachel. You have, to begin with, crude, old-fashioned notions, drawn no doubt from the sentimental romances which you have read, about the position of woman, and the chivalrous attitude which man should hold towards her. Now, my dear child, in all ages men have allowed women to delude themselves with the fancy that we are their slaves, whereas in reality " He broke off with a short laugh. Rachel's needle was quiet now, and she looked at her cousin with a heightened colour. " In reality ?"' she repeated. 128 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I Well, the first woman was created, you must remem- ber, entirely for the solace and more comfortable estate ot man The Creator saw that it was not good for him o be alone, and so He gave him a companion. And thus It has ever been through the ages-the woman is the supplement to the man's life." Rachel looked up saucily. - There are two ways of regardmg such matters," she said. " Auld Nature'swears the lovely dears, Her nobles work she classes, O ; Her 'prentice han' she tried on man, And then she made the lasses, 0.' This is the saying of a man, I beg to state, and a poet to boot. ^ "You have a flippant tongue, I must say," muttered Humphrey, unable for the moment to think of a better retort. There was silence in the room for a short space the young man moodily watching the little shoe as it was twisted this way and that by Rachel's nimble fingers Neither her skill nor her patience had been equal to the task of making the under part of her bright-coloured toot-gear ; she had contented herself with fashioning new tops to those she had already worn. That which she was r.ow covering was of French make, a dainty ridiculous thing, with a preposterously narrow toe and high heel. The few months' wear to which it had already been subjected had imparted to it a distinct and seductive character ; one could not see it without re- calling the arch of the slender foot it was permitted to clothe ; Its grace, its lightness. As Humphrey gazed at It his anger began to melt ; he was a young man of taste as well as of spirit, and he could forgive much to the owner of that shoe. Rachel did not guess his thoughts ; her own were occupied with vengeful desires to humiliate tlie man VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. j^g who held her sex so lightly. Though her eyes were ben demurely or, her work her mind dwelt neUher on the shoe ,tself, nor on the foot which was to wetr it save, perhaps, in a metaphorical sense, with the tonine wish to trample on her adversary ^ to^he'hald 1"7^7I'' '^" '''''"''^ f™-" 'he shoe to the hand that held it; wandering thence past the ;::t""1-^"f *^ ^°''"'"'^« arm,'which pee'ped ou Irom Its mus in d a- «rv anrl «r. r.,-, r^n • i wry, ana so on, tollowinp- the exnii «!>*:> hem. Rachel fe.gned to be unaware of his scrutiny but the length and boldness of it increased her secre^^^nse of affront and injury. She did not know that her cous n was marvellmg to himself over the fact that the orettv .vely child, of whom he had hitherto take but'smaU account was rapidly developing into a very lovely^nd fascmating ma.den. When at length, finding the sMence observe that Humphrey was actually smiling worste^!n?h"""'" ^" "'"^ ^"">'' " ' *'" °"" ^hat I am worsted in the argument. You have certainly a ready wit, my dear. I wish I might enlist you in my cause Srnce you think I have set about my courtship'^wi" so I a grace, perhaps you could give me a useful hint or wo. Pray tell me candidly, how did I manage to convey o you that I looked upon Miss Gifi-ord witS-what wa^ It you said— -contemptuous indifference'?" I' Ah, that was by my woman's instinct," cried Rachel ^^^our woman's instinct quotha," laughed Humphrey.' In truth you must tell me before we proceed further now long It IS since you have been a woman, Rachel " Rachel fixed her eyes serenely on him, and answered sedately : "About half an hour, I think, dousin " Indeed I" he cried amused. "And what may have t=een the cause of the sudden metamorphosis ? " ill "T*| I30 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " I cannot tell," she replied more seriously, " unless it was your very insulting and disrespectful remarks about my sex. When I heard you speak slightingly of women, I felt all at once that I was a woman." Humphrey was becoming interested ; he began to edge his chair closer to the window, but she threw out her hand with a little frown. " You need come no nearer, I assure you. I can see and hear you very well where you are." He stopped short with a bewildered laugh ; the minx had, indeed, suddenly developed. " I most humbly crave pardon for any remarks of mine which have offended you," he said, after a pause. " Pray forgive me, and teach me what I must do and say to please you better. I will be a most meek and docile pupil, I promise you," He spoke in jest, yet with a little underlying note of earnestness which she was quick to detect. She stitched away in silence, however, and after a moment or two he continued : " How would you have me deal with your sex, Rachel?" She laid down her work and gazed at him earnestly ; to her surprise she saw his colour mount beneath her glance. Her mother had been right, it seemed ; there was a certain power in a girl's eyes. With feigned un- consciousness, yet with a delightful inward sense of triumph, she averted them presently, and said with a gravity that v/as not assumed : — " I would have you treat all women with honour and respect, Cousin Humphrey; and as to the woman 30U are wooing " She paused, glanced at him again, and then dropped her eyes. "Go on," he cried eagerly. "The woman I am wooing " inless it :s about women, 2gan to irew out ) nearer, II where le minx arks of L pause, do and ?ek and note of ititched two he :h your nestly ; ith her ; there led un- :nse of with a ur and m 3'ou ropped I am YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 131 She smiled a h'ttle malicious smile to herself, and returned lightly : — •• Well, as to the woman you are wooing, Cousin Humphrey, surely she must teach you, and not I." "Alas, I am so backward a scholar, dear Rachel conscious of my deficiencies, and yet unable to remedy them. I fear to go before my mistress with my lesson unlearnt. Do but give me a hint or two." u ^^he looked at him and heaved an impatient sigh. Well, I suppose I must. What do you wish to learn ? Let us have an end of it quickly." " Since we are rehearsing," said Humphrey, " let us imagme that j^.. are the woman I love and am anxious to wm, and that I wish to ask a favour of you. Now how must I set about it ? " ' "You must ask for it on your knees, of course" replied Rachel promptly. " But you should have be^u'n by saying something pretty." "So be it! Tis a trifle inconvenient to fall upon one s knees, but I will obey my ment r at all costs Now, what pretty ing shall I say?" "You are the best judge of that," she replied demurely He bent forward a little and said softly: "I cannot -sisL the witchery of those dancing eyes." ^^ "A little strong to begin with," commented Rachel and Bertha's eyes do not dance. You had better sub-' stitute the word me/^ino^ when you repeat the lesson in earnest, but, if I were you, I should not hazard it too soon Well, now go on." " But you should say something, surely ? " J[^-^^''S'^ "'^ P^'^ ^° ^^y nothing. I am very sure that Bertha will say nothing. But proceed." Have Vmi nr\ ^trr\fA T^^- . l'> , . ,- '• — '^^ " ^Qi luc: murmurea Humphrey in a tone of mock entreaty, which did not at all hide from Kachel an underlying and very real agitation. " Do you 132 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. not see that you have made an impression on me which I find it impossible to resist? This very day I was about to ask a favour of you. Do not be so cruel as to deny me." " Very good indeed," said Rachel approvingly. « And now, down on your knees. But what is it you wish to ask for?" " What dare I ask for? " murmured Humphrey as he slowly sank into the prescribed posture. " Oh, I don't know," returned Rachel hastily, for she began to feel uncomfortable at the unfeigned ardour of his tone and gaze. "A flower, perhaps ; but be quick and let us have done with it." " May I not ask to kiss her hand? " pleaded Humphrey. " If she gives you the flower it will be time enough to think about that." Just as the request was formulated, with due humility and an earnestness which could not but flatter the recipient, the door opened and in walked Edward Gifford. At sight of his start of astonishment and sudden flush of jealous anger, and Humphrey's dis- comfiture at being caught in such a position, Rachel became suddenly possessed by a very demon of mis- chief " Remain where you are," she said authoritatively to Humphrey, then turning to young Gifford, "we are playing a kind of game here. Would you like to join us?" Edward's brow cleared to a certain extent, but he still looked suspiciously at Humphrey. He crossed the room rapidly and stood by Rachel. The effect of his morning's potations had evaporated, save for a certain unusual irrit- ability and excitement, " What is the game ? " he cried. ** I will join with all my heart." •• Why, I am teaching my cousin how he must ask a YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 133 lady for a flower. He is trying, as you see, to make his request with the best possiJDle grace." "Come, if there is a flower to be given away I v ill put in my claim," cried Gifford. " Nay, but not in so fierce or rude a fashion. See my cousin Humphrey on his knees— you must outdo him in courtesy and excellence of persuasion if the flower is to be awarded to you. Now, let us see who will ask most prettily." Gifford threw himself on his knees and clasped his hands together ; Humphrey laughed and extended his. Rachel looked demurely from one to the other, and then slowly drew forth the sprig of apple-blossom from her dress. She appeared to hesitate, and though Humphrey smiled still, there was a lurking anger in his eyes. " I was the first to ask, you know," he urged after a pause. " You will not deny my right, Cousin ? " " Right ! Who talks of right ? " cried Gifford, almost in a roar. " Miss Charnock, who can have a better right than I, who have always been your most devoted servant ? " " ' Devoted servant ' sounds well," said the girl ap- provingly. "What say you, Humphrey? You will find it hard to improve upon the phrase." "I," cried Humphrey, "am your most loving cousin —is not that better?" "What is a cousin?" put in Gifford; "a fig for cousins. I am your lover, Miss Rachel, and you know it." " Nay, nay, you must not exaggerate," said Rachel. "But whit have you to say to that, Humphrey?" " I say that this is a foolish game— it was not meant that three should play at it. One must withdraw and let the others finish it in peace." "Then will you withdraw, Humphrey? That would be a pity, for surely you began it." ■ iP H til 134 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I' ' ; Let him go, Rachel, and give the "Aiid so I did. flower to me." ^ " Would it not be uncivil to desire him to go ? " she said innocently ; « he is a visitor, you know. No, you must be patient, gentlemen, and let me think." She paused, putting her finger reflectively to her lip The two men glared at each other as they knelt on either side of her. "You are our guest, Mr. Gifford, and call yourself besides my 'devoted servant '—I must not forget that. And you, Humphrey, are my cousin, and blood is thicker than water, is it not ? Besides, I promised to teach you the lesson." She gazed seriously at him as he knelt there, all pre- tence forgotten, hanging breathlessly upon her words • every moment that she held him thus in bondage was a delight to her. " Let me see, let me see ; it is very hard to decide But there, do not be impatient, I will decide in one minute ! Now, when I say One, two, three, you will be ready. Then the one to whom I shall give the fl- ' • may rise from his knees." She herself stood up holding the blossom aloft. "Now, One, two, three!'' Simultaneously both men half rose; Giffbrd flung out a hand to drag back Humphrey's arm, but, with an oath, the other wrenched it free. Rachel stepped past them, and then turned, slowly lowering the flower. " Gentlemen, you may both get up," she said suavely, for I have decided to keep my posy myself" She tripped away, turning at the door to curtsey; Gifford had broken into a foolish laugh, but Humphrey's face was white with anger. Madam Charnock met her on the stairs, and gazed at her ill iirnazement. " Why, child, how flushed you are ; how odd you look ! " YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 135 Rachel smiled, frowned, and finally flung herself into her mother's arms with something like a sob. " Mother, mother, I am a wicked girl ! I believe I shall end like Rachel the Rake ! " m 'Hi *il h It, i I m i3Ji 136 CHAPTER XII. Drink, then I I chide thee not, Deny thee not my bowl. Come, stretch forth thy hand, then-so i Drmk, drink again ! —Matthew Arnold. The next day Simon chanced to have some unim- portant buisness with the lawyer at the neighbouring small own of Saltileld. Mr. Renshaw had bef , a crony' of h,s father s, and from time to time Simon thought him e ,r f .. T'P'"" hospitality.and to entertain himTn e urn at the Farm. Therefore, when on this particular afternoon the old gentleman clapped him jovially on the back and ,ns,sted on his putting up his gig and remaining w'hn"';^""^ ''"™°^ '"^P'^^ *'*out hesitation Wh.le they sat together in the snug parlour awaiting the hour of the repast there came a loud, fmperious knock r fflrH t""":, '"'^ '■" ''""'^'' '""™"' Edward OiHord was ushered in, " Here I am, Mr. Renshaw-as good as my word peTturS "' r ■ " "'^ "''' """" ™- '"" ^^P^- -^ perturbation Ccme to take pot luck with you, and to crack a bottle of that famous old port that you we e b.-agg,ng about the other day at Charnleigh. What' Do not look so flabbergasted, man-I said I'd take vou letZ''"'' ^Z u'°Z' ^"'^ ' '^''^"'^ ^°""= amends for Squ re. Hes a knowmg old dog, Renshaw, and, for tl.e matter of that «n ar^ irr^,, tmi <:f„ff. .^ 'mT , ' ' ^^ '="^''^^" your port IS prime stuff so we'll have a bottl ' "■ e a piece. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 1 37 He poked Mr. Renshaw on the waistcoat and laughed loudly. "You have no conscience, you old rogue," he said, "but I daresay you've a good cellar. There are capital pickings to be had in your way of business. But four per cent, you know— 'tis a devilish hard bargain Renshaw ! Another man in my shoes would have had seven," "Come, come, Mr. Gifford," cried the lawyer « I have done my best in the interests of my employer ; and you, no doubt, have done what you thought to be best in your own interests. But we must not talk shop out of busmess hours. You are heartily welcome here, though if I'd known you were coming I would have made better preparation. I am honoured by your company, and so I am sure my young friend here will feel himself. Let me introduce him. Though the son of an honest yeoman he has good connections on the mother's side, and is indeed, by education a gentleman. You will find him a pleasant, well-informed fellow." This explanation was made hurriedly in an undertone as the pair advanced together towards the hearth ; where the evening being chilly, a small fire was burning! Simon had hitherto been sitting with averted face, so that Gifford had not identified him ; but he now rose 'and bowed gravely. " Mr. Gifford and I have already met," he said. " Aye, that we have," cried Edward ; " and it were better we had not, to my thinking. ' More than kin and less than kind,' 1 might well say. We are cousins, you must know, Renshaw." " I am as little anxious for the fact to be remembered as you," said young F'leetwood quietly. "Well, 'needs must when the Devil drives'— is not that the proverb ? Faith, I am bu.sy with proverbs to- day. Next to the Devil commend me to a woman for .p 138 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ! ? obstinacy in carrying out a whim. Family disagreements are best let alone, to my thinking, but my pretty mistress will have an end of them, it seems. Let us shake hands my clod-hopping cousin, for lovely Rachel's sake." ^ Simon flushed, and made no effort to respond to the invitation. "I bear you no ill-will," he said, "but I think the ceremony is useless; and I do not see," he added with more warmth, "what can be your object in bringing up Miss Chranock's name. Having in her kind-heartedness tried to reconcile us, the matter ceases to concern her and I must own that your familiar tone in alluding to her IS extremely distasteful to me." "How so?" demanded Gifford fiercely "D your impudence, sir, what right have you to form an opinion as to my tone?" ''Just this right," replied Simon. " I and my father before me have always esteemed and respected the Squire and his family. No one shall speak impertinently of Miss Charnock in my presence." "Why, then, you can relieve us oi your presence" sneered Edward. - The sooner the better say I " "I was about to do so," returned Simon very quietly. I feel sure that Mr. Renshaw will allow me to postpone my visit to him to a more convenient time." I shall do nothing of the sort, my dear Simon," cried tl lawyer, who had been growing very red in the face, and fidgeting anxiously from one foot to the other " I will not allow the son of my old friend to leave my house in this fashion. As a favour to me, Simon lad, you will stay As for you, Mr. Gifford, let us have no more angry words, 1 beg. If you are cousins, gentlemen, which I am surprised to learn, the more reason for your being good friends — p.il hnpnn.- frv n/r;.,^ r-i i r . ^^^.. „ , ■; ■ ^'-' "'^'^^ '^naniuck lor saying so. We all know that you have the best reasons for respecting YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 130 the Squire and his family, though you will have your joke Mr. Gifford. Now, here comes Sarah to lay the cloth I will myself go in search of that port, Mr. Cjittord. bit down, gentlemen, sit down, and let har- mony prevail, I beg." He trotted away, while Simon and Edward seated themselves silently ; Simon, during his absence, gazine somewhat moodily at the floor, the other drumming on his knees. Presentfy the old gentleman returned, carrying with the utmost caution two cobwebby bottles which he careOilly placed in a horizontal position on the sideboard Fetch the decanters, Sarah," he murmured in a reverent, indeed almost awe-struck, tone. - Quietly wench! Now, the strainer. Whatever you do Sarah do not jog my elbow." ' Holding his breath so that his face gradually assumed a purple hue, and with eyes starting with excitement he slowly and solemnly tilted one of the bottles in question suffering its contents to dribble cautiously into the decanter. When he had finished he turned with a triumphant air to Gifford. " Will you not open the other ? " said that gentleman who had been eagerly watching him. " One at a time, surely," returned the lawyer in dignified surprise « Excuse me. young sir, you do not quite realise that this wine has not its like in England The bin IS getting low, alas ! It is not for every man that 1 would get out even one bottle. I have some very good ' stuff here in the cellaret which you shall drink during dinner ; then afterwards, sir, afterwards, when you are prepared and mellowed, so to speak, you shall tell me what you think of thisr affectionately tapping the neck of the decanter. Nay. but listen, Rensh Wh -ay, uuL nscen, Kenshaw. When we have beer mellowed, as you call it, will your hand be steady enough \i .1 I. r t( If \\\ If ' Hj V 1! •II I40 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. m- ^Bs" 1! ^^tSm ' 'i H f HI:: ;[ ^^^^V^! ^^M^l^-^i think you, to decant the other bottle without disturbing the crust ? Better make sure now while your head is cool Twere a thousand pities not to do full justice to such wine as that." Mr. Renshaw looked at him for a moment solemnly face"-- °^ unwilling admiration broke over his' " Upon my word, Mr. Gifford, you are a genius in your way-young in years, but ripe in wisdom. Such a sug- gestion, sir, would do credit to your grandfather, if you have one. I shall act on it." He treated the second bottle in the same manner as the first, smiling to himself the while, clicking his tongue against his teeth, and occasionally ejaculating : " V/onder- ful, -wonderful ! and only twenty-four ". When the operation was at length concluded he crossed the room to the cellaret, got out a bottle of the inferior vintage, informed Sarah that she might serve the dinner and with a smiling countenance invited the gentlemen to take their places. Though Simon was the son of his old friend, and dear to him as well on many another account, it was noticeable that during the earlier part of the repast the hosts favour and attention seemed chiefly directed towards Mr. Gifford. The acumen and understanding which that young man had displayed with regard to so important a matter as the opening of a bottle of that admirable port had touched the old gentle- man in a vulnerable spot. He loved Simon, but he venerated Edward. His eyes sought Gifford's a trifle anxiously as he fingered his first glass of wine, raised it to the light, tasted it critically, and finally drained it to the dregs. Ihen, indeed, Mr. Renshaw's countenance expanded and he heavpH p He^p -!V^ --f -^' c ^ --a. — ri. uc^p oign ui relict. JNot to be despised, eh, sir? " t disturbing bead is cool, tice to such : solemnly; e over his lius in your luch a sug- her, if you manner as his tongue " V/onder- he crossed tie inferior he dinner, gentlemen iend, and it, it was •epast the directed rstanding •egard to a bottle I gentle- , but he 3 a trifle raised it led it to itenance YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. HI " Not to be despised, indeed, Renshaw. By the Lord Harry, 'tis first rate ; I wish my father had brought me up to be a lawyer." He pushed forward his glass, which was quickly and smilingly replenished. Simon drank little, according to his wont, and took but a small share in the conversation, which, indeed, turned chiefly on different vintages, the marvellous bargains which certain clever people, who kept their eyes open and their tongues quiet, could occasionally drive with ignorant folk who did not know the value of the stuff in their own cellars, enlivened occasionally by anecdotes of by-gone treaties with smugglers. Mean- while Mr. Gifford's glass was emptied many times and promptly refilled ; his face had become flushed and his speech a little thick ; a second bottle had followed the first, and now the cloth was removed and the famous port placed on the table. Mr. Renshaw's hand trembled, not from the effect of his potations, but from sheer excitement, as he poured out a full bumper for his appreciative guest; and he smiled broadly as he watched him raise it to his lips. But, apparently, struck by a sudden thought, Gifford paused midway, and stretching out the hand which held the glass and rising to his feet, cried in stentodan tones:— " I call upon you to drink a toast, gentlemen : Here's to my bride, my bonny winsome bride, and to our speedy union." Simon had partly risen in politeness to his host, who had stiffly got on to his gouty old legs, but now reseated himself. Gifford observing this, inquired angrily what he meant by such lack of gallantry, and whether it could be possible that he meant to decline to drink the lady's health. " I will not drink her health," replied Simon, ** until I know her name." 4 1 I -i m 142 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^Ju ^l[ ",^"^^ ' ^ "^^' yo" know it well eno.io-h Why Rachel, lovely Rachel, the daintiest, charmingeft sweetest bnde that ever a man laid claim ta Con^oS he^lthf 2" " "°' ^ '"''' ' '"' ^-^ '° -<■"- '° drink he' vour'bTil''""'^. ''"' *"""'* "'* ^" -"y heart, but not as your b„de, s,r," responded Simon with flashing eyes llw 11-h'"^;"^ "P- ''" ^'^'"^ ^'' «'^^^ ^"d continued in Souire h'' 'h. 'r"^° ^'^^ '^^^^l Charnock. ou Mrr\, .? '^ ^°"" ^'f^' Honour and Prosperity May God Almighty bless her, and send her one day a husband worthy of her ! " ^ tn'7°°'V-"'',"'^ '^'""^ ""■"&■" <=™d Gifford, impatient to dram h,s glass; "the port is too good to be kip T: Ra!:e'ch"' ''T ""T . '' "^' """'""'^ «'^' '°- is to h. ,? "'"' '° her honourable husband that s to be-o herwise to my most noble self. I care little teZ: h ""'"■ '^°"^'" Clod-hopper. A husband who t1 le for I am t '°"\ ^"""'^ ' ""^y '^y ^'^'•"' '° the SlvolH R K ^^f^ ^^' ^^^'•' ^"^ ' "°t. Renshaw? De'ln him"^ '"r T'° '"^" ^^ ''^^'^ => bargain as the uevn himself But come, you old sinner, I will forgive you much for the sake of that port. Fill up filfup caTedl^f nr ^^^'^^'^ ^"* wine as this shairLededT cated to no other name, I swear. Here's to Rachel again tt tirr ''"'t '''•"• """ "^^ P^^'-- °f innocence ^' crue Hra •" " ^^'"^ ''''' "'" '° "^" ' ^ow kind, now ZT mlTj "' ™' '"^ "^^" '"^■''"g belief to flout me- Ha ! ha ! my pretty madam, we'll settle these old You were o„" " u°"' "'" '^ master-eh, Renshaw^ Vou were too wise, old man, to take to yourself a wife or was It too foolish? You preferred to spend" your sub Stance on vnnr ^Hi"- o..^ T . .., , ^ .. ^ y^^^ ^"D- ^^ , ,. ^ -"■ ■-^'«-- -"ut i win nave aii— I will buv me ruby lips as well as ruby wine ; I will have kisses and YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 143 ill enough. larm ingest, Confound • drink her but not as »ing eyes, itinued in nock, our 'rosperity. )ne day a impatient be kept hat toast. )and that :are little and who n to the enshaw ? n as the '■ forgive , fill up be dedi- -I again, ence all iid, now to flout ese old on my ishaw ? mfe, or ir sub- ill buy es and smiles at my order. Come, another glass ! Ruby wine and ruby lips — bonny Racxhel's lips ! " Ere he had set down the glass Simon leaped to his feet ; one or two hasty strides brought him to Giftbrd's side; he flung out his arm as though to strike him, but the other's swaying form eluded him, and, before he could touch it, fell heavily to the floor. " Now Simon, Simon ! " cried the lawyer, his usually rubicund and jovial face blanched and serious in a moment, while he laid a detaining hand upon the yeo- man's arm. " How is this, Simon ? What would your honoured father say at your thus seeking a brawl beneath my roof? " "Sir," responded Simon hotly, "he would say that I did well. There are things that flesh and blood can- not bear. If you can endure to hear your patron calumniated, and his daughter insulted it is more than I can do. Mr. Renshaw, I wonder that you could stand by and listen to that ruffian when a word from you must have silenced him." " Now, Simon," said the old gentleman, lifting a warn- mg finger, " wait a bit— wait a bit ! I could not speak that word. I am lech indeed to talk of professional matters to one who is not actually concerned in them, but there has been too much said for me to keep the matter secret from you ; besides I can trust you. My dear young friend, Edward Gifl-ord did not lie— he pi't the thing coarsely, and with a— a very regretable lack of gallantry ; but . is more or less true that he has very solid claims to Miss Rachel's hand." True that her father has sold her to him ? " interrupted Simon in a hoarse whisper. " Hush, hush ! Tut, tut, tut— there is no need for you to repeat what the fellow blurted out in his cups. There is— an understanding between him and the Squire! Wf m ^ 1< '44 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Young Gifford is advancing Mr. Chamock a very laree Z?J" "'Tfu^'': '^^' '''^'' '' ^'^^^dy heavily encum. bered, and tile terms are most advantageous to Mr Charnock-more advantageous than he could have hoped for unless Mr. Gifford were particularly well-disposed towards h,m It has, therefore, been agreed between them that, though Mr. Chranock will not of course put any undue pressure upon his daughters feelings, he will favour Edward Gifford's suit " s . ■= hr.lv '"' tT" •^"'"''''' '"■°''™ °"'y ^y th« Stertorous breathing of the su.tor m question. Simon's features had become white and rigid asthoughrarved in marble, and Mr Renshaw, gazmg anxiously at them, could no more deteci the mward emotions cloaked by their impassiveness, than IZLr^'ut'""" """''■ --P-ent, neve di.s- closed, hidden bohmd the cold mask U Death itself. Presently Mr. Renshaw stepped up to the prostrate figure of Gifford, who, at first partially stunned by his tall, had now sunk into a heavy sleep. '' He will smother if we leave him 'like this," he said • and stooping, loosened Gifford's neck-cloth and placed nim m an easier position. "What are you going to do with him?" inquired Simon sternly. "If you send him back to the Hall in this condition I doubt if his suit will prosper " " 'Tis not to be thought of, indeed," cried Mr. Ren- shaw hastily. " The ladies would be sure to hear of it Tk . n l^"'u^ ""'"''' ""'^ ^ '""'-■h displeased. I fea; that all the blame will rest on me. Dear, dear, it is a thousand pities that the young man suffers his enthusiasm to run away with him. A fine fellow, Simon, most as- suredly a fine fe low Mark the broad shoulders of him, and what a leg! So shrewd, too-so appreciative-a marvel for hm v^rc \\r^^^ u;„ l_- j t , S . Ko 1^ u"~:\ T'" "'"'''" '"" '^^"^"^ °"^ ^ kittle stronger, he would be all but perfect." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 145 Simon looked .'own at the six feet of debascv man- hood outstretched on Mr. Renshaw's carpet and made no reply. He seemed to be cogitating deeply, and presently raised his head as though he had come to a sudden decision. " Mr. Gifford cannot return to the Ha'i!," he said. "That, as you see, is quite out of the quest/on ; and if he were to remain here I fear he could not save his credit : the reason must become known." "True, true," cried Mr. Renshaw, much agitated. " My credit also would suffer, Simon. Misguides young man! Why did he drink so deeply of the inferior wine ? " "On the other hand," pursued Simon, "what could be ma;e natural than that he should spend the night with his own cousin whom he met here by accident^ and '."ho insisted on carrying him off ? " 'My dear fellow, would you really?" cried Mr Renshaw, eagerly catching at the idea. " My blessing on you, Simon, if you extricate me from this dilemma." Fleetwood again looked down at the snoring form at his feet and seemed to reflect before replying. " But I thought you hated the fellow," continued the lawyer. " Why, r do not love him, Mr. Renshaw; but, for all that, were it but for the honour of the blood that runs in his veins I will get him out of the way for the present. Yes, I will take my besotted kinsman off your hands and see that he comes to his senses before he leaves me." " He will not be sober for hours yet," said the lawyer regretfully. " How will you get him away ? " "We will wait till dusk," replied the young man decidedly, "and then— oh we'll get him into my gig somehow." Mr. Renshaw nodded, sighed, and finally, walking 10 i '- :,r f 146 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 1 te back to the table, resumed his seat, and slowly filled his own glass. "Simon," he said reprovingly, "yours is not yet empty." Simon reseated himself and finished his wine, drinking it, however, with a preoccupied air. " Pshaw ! " cried old Renshaw, suddenly rising. " Come away, sir, come away. A man might as well set you down to a dish of tea. Tis more than I can endure to see the way you swallow that royal stuff. I will cast no more of my pearls before Nay, Simon I will not be rude, but, upon my life, sir, in some matters you might imitate our friend yonder with advantage." And with a declamatory air the good old man pointed to where Gifford lay under the table. 147 CHAPTER XIII. Where two fight The strongest wins, and truth and love are strength. —Tennyson. The hours of waiting passed slowly enough, but at length the evening was deemed sufficiently dark for Simon to kidnap his unconsciovs kinsman. The servants were a-bed, and no one was abroad in the quiet village street Simon put his horse in the gig himself, and brought it round to the door. The lawyer had been waiting anxiously on the threshold, ar 1 now peered out into the night. "The question is," he muttered, "how to get him in ? * " I'll manage that," cried Simon, "iC you will stand a moment by the horse." He went into the house, stooped over Gifford, and seized him by the arm. " Get up," he cried savagely. " Get up at once and come with me." He hauled him to his feet and then dragged him to the street. Gifford, once on his legs, was not altogether helpless, and was conveyed to the gig without any very great effort on Simon's part ; it was a more difficult matter to get him into it, but even this was finally accom- plished, thanks to Fleetwood's vigorous exertions and to the persuasiveness of the lawyer. " Don't let him fajl nnf " r-ri'^A i^u^ i«*.4. • tney drove away. "I'll take care of him, never fear," returned Simon M K* 148 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. TB grimly; and in a few minutes the horse's hoof-beats sounded faintly in the distance. All was quiet at the Farm when the horse stopped in the wide yard. Gifford was still too stupid and heavy to take much note of his surroundings, merely inquiring, as he lurched heavily across the yard supported by the yeoman, who the devil he might be and where he was taking him. " To bed," responded Simon. This seemed reasonable and desirable under the cir- cumstances, and Gifford made no further protest, even when Simon, throwing open the door of a large barn, thrust him down backwards on a heap of hay. " Lie there ! " he said fiercely, and left him, closing the door and shooting the bolt into its place. But Gifford's slumbers had regained possession of him ere the re- treating footsteps had reached the other side of the yard. ^ Simon led the horse to the stable, fed him and rubbed him down, and then, taking with him his stable lantern, returned to the barn. Shutting himself in with his cousin, and laying his lantern on the floor, he took up his position opposite to him, leaning back against some piled-up trusses of hay and folding his arms. Gifford lay at full length, his arms outstretched, his muscular throat exposed to view. Simon leaned forward after a time, gazing at him intently. " He is not quite so tall as I am," he muttered, " but that matters little. He looks strong enough— he should be my match." The sleeper stirred, and Fleetwood leaned back again, but his eyes did not close once that night. Shortly after midnight the wind rose and swept round the barn with a rush and fury which would have aroused the young farmer even ii' he had been inclined to sleep. He knew these spring gales well, and thought with YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 149 loof-beats topped in md heavy inquiring, ed by the re he was r the cir- test, even rge barn, y- losing the Gifford's ; the re- the yard. id rubbed 3 lantern, with his took up nst some ched, his 1 forward red, " but le should ck again, pt round : aroused to sleep. jht with concern of the havoc they wrought. The blossom would be scattered, the delicate new leafage stripped from the boughs— it would be well, indeed, if the boughs them- selves were not torn from their parent trunks and sent groaning and creaking to the ground. The old tiles yonder on the house roof would be shaken and loosened perhaps ; even at this distance he could hear the shutters rattling, and some door, left unfastened by a careless maid, creaking and slamming. He wondered, as many another watcher has done at such times as these, how any one could sleep through the turmoil ; but he thanked Heaven for it : he wanted no one to wake just yet. By-and-bye, through the screaming of the wind, an- other shriller sound came to his ears—the crowing of a cock. Day would soon be there—day was there. He rose and set open the door ; already the out-houses and ricks, the presence of which he had before but dimly felt, were taking definite shape in an all-pervading ^reyness! He extinguished the lantern and closed the door, and went quietly into the house, returning presently with a jug of ale in one hand and a plate of bread and meat in the other. As the barn door swung once more on its hinges Gifford opened his eyes and stared about him. First at the great beams overhead, then at the hay, finally at Simon standing in the doorway. To his heavy eyes, and in the dim light, this figure seemed to tower above him as that of a giant. " Vou are awake," said Simon, drawing near rapidly. " Why, so I fancied I was a moment ago; but, faith, I think I must be dreaming still ! " returned Gifford with a laugh. He sat upright, stretching out his arms. " Have the kindness to tell me what is this place and how I come to be here. I got drunk, I suppose, at old Renshaw's. Is this his barn ? " ml '■1 ■'II if ,f< !f ISO YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "No," replied Simon, "it is mine. I brought you here." " You did, did you, and what for?" " First because, as you rightly guess, you were drunk and Mr. Renshaw wished to avoid the disgrace of sending you back in such a condition to the Hall ; and, secondly because you and I must come to an understanding' Edward Gifford." ^' "Indeed," cried the other. "And what may you want with me, Simon Fleetwood ? " "First break your fast," said Simon; "'twill clear your head and steady your nerve. When you have finished your meal I will tell you what I want." Gifford laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and fell to By-and-bye he set down the jug and pushed away the plate. " Now then ? " he inquired. " Well now," said Simon, " I am going to fight you " Edward threw back his head and laughed. "What!" he cried, "I offended you, I suppose, by some incautious speech when I was merry last night ? I cannot in the least remember it, but if fight we must, I've no objection, providing the choice of weapons be left with me. Pray, are you a good shot, Cousin Fleet- wood ? " " I am a very good shot, Cousin Gifford, but I've no mind to shoot you— no, nor to spit you either, though I have practised fencing in my college days. The same blood runs in our veins : I would not spill yours ; but one of us must prove this day that he is th^ better man and so we will fight with the tools which Nature gave us " He stretched out his sinewy arm, and clenched his mighty hand. Edward stared at him blankly, and finally imitated the gesture. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 151 ught you :re drunk, >f sending secondly, •standing, may you vill clear '■ou have d fell to. iway the ht you." pose, by ight ? I lust, I've be left 1 Fleet- I've no hough I he same but one an, and ive us." hed his mitated " If it comes to that I can play with my fists, too," he said, " but first, Cousin, pray tell me what we are to fight for?" " I will tell you," said Simon. He came closer to Gifford who had now risen, and spoke earnestly, almost solemnly. "Edward Gifford, I will not have you lay claim to the hand of Rachel Charnock." Edward stared for a moment or two, and then swore in very forcible language that he would stick to his bargain in spite of a thousand country boobies. " You will not," said Simon with quiet determination. "Listen: take your choice. If you refuse to give up this plan of yours, I carry news of it straightway to Madam Charnock, .making known to her, besides, the terms in which you speak of her daughter ; the manner in which you disgraced yourself at Mr. Renshaw's last night — you will find, I think, that she is no party to this bargain. Or else come out like a man and fight me. We are evenly matched enough. If I beat you, you must withdraw all claims to the lady. If you beat me " " Well, if I beat you, what then ? " •' If you beat me I shall of course forfeit all right to interfere ; but you will not beat me," he added quickly. " Either way, it seems," sneered Gifford, " I am to lose the girl ; there may be two opinions about that, but tell me why you are so eager to fight this lady's battles, Fleetwood? What is she to you, d you? Have you hopes on your own account, forsooth ? What can it matter to you whom she marries ? She is too dainty a prize to fall to your lot. Farmer Simon." " No one knows that better than I do," replied Simon, turning a little pale. " My motives do not concern you ; it is sufficient for you to know that while I live you shall not be Rachel Chan rack's husband. ¥/ell, do you agree ? 152 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "You give me no choice in the matter. I have no mmd to leave my character in your hands-Madam yonder, loves me little enough already. Come, I'll shu^ your mouth for you-are we to light here ? " " No, there is not room enough. Come out under the from .f 'r'^' "' "" ^''"■^ «- *^» be sheltered from the wmd and irae from distiMbsnce " He led the w,iy acr ,.; the > ard ,;.id down the lane vhTchl'd',?'"^"', '" " '''^' '"''' '" °"« -™- of wth thl V""" '" '"•^^"■°"- ^^' "'"d wrestled with theu, a. they went, and the w„yside trees creaked the (.ew heavy on the gr.-ss. The whole scene struck Edward with a chiil forb.ding of disaster, the blat seemed to pierce :o lus very marrow. As they paused oeneath the rick, and he marked with what a shriM note the wmd p,ped thro-gh the leaves, he could not repress Simon f". ^"' ''^r"' ~"' ''^-^^"' -"^"-d tolnd S.mon fresh vigour , he threw back his head and laughed joyously ; then rapidi.v began to divest himself of coat pa"rtiarreh- f .*^^* "'°'"^"'' ''^-^'^ Edward was partially sheltered, Simon was standing in the very teeth sleev:s7 ' ■'*''"' Tl "'" '"'' ^'^^^■"■"S- -d hi! sW sleeves flapping and fluttering as he rolled them high on his arms. Edward glanced at him with a thrill of bTt"^^"'""'" .^^"'-^'ion and fear, " You will not beat me, S.mon had said-in his heart of hearts he felt rue wT'' " ^'V^ ">"' ""^ P^^Ph^-^y w°"W prove true. When presently the battle began, though the two that he had met more than his match. Simon, strong, - ' • -.— J"— o. hi:, cause, fougiu with a dog-eed determ.nat,on which carried all before it. The blows YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 153 p to your • have no -Madam, ■, I'll shut Jnder the sheltered the lane, :orner of wrestled creaked ■ey, and e struck le blasts '■ paused rill note : repress to lend laughed of coat ird was ry teeth is shirt Ti high hrill of vill not he felt prove he two ealised strong, logged blows which his cousin occasionally succeeded in planting seemed to affect him no more than if they had been so many hailstones ; and gradually these grew feebler and wilder, Edward feeling like a man in a nightmare. His brain began to reel, he was conscious of a mocking note in the screaming of the wind ; the trees that writhed in the blast seemed to stretch out menacing arms, the very hedge, of which he got a glimpse behind the rick, seemed to be rushing towards him ; then he saw Simon's face avenging, triumphant— there was a crash, a shock, and all was dark. A short period of unconsciousness ensued, and when he canje to himself it was to find his head supported on his adversary's knee, and Simon assiduously bathing his face. So bruised and sore was Edward, so much ex- hausted, so crushed and humiliated by the sense of defeat, that for a time he lay passive under these ministra- tions, though, as a matter of fact, Simon's good offices were to him harder to endure than the blows which had gone before. But by-and-bye, rallying himself, he pushed away the hand which sought to heal the bruises it had caused, and struggled into a sitting posture. Simon, still kneeling on one knee beside him, looked at him with a quiet smile. " You have had enough, I think. Come, Cousin, own that you are beaten, and in honour bound to relinquish all pretentions to Miss Charnock's hand. Tush, man! 'tis no disgrace to be beaten in fair fight and to give in honestly. Make the best of it. Now if you will take the advice of a reasonable man you will make away with all speed from this place before folks are beginning to stir about. If I were you I should not .show myself at the Hall just now." " Aye, curse you I youVe made that impo.ssible. But you shall not have my sister, I say. Come, let us have I 154 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. a doub e bargain. If I give up Rachel Charnock-and I 11 pick me up as good before I'm six months older^ promise me that you will venture on no more impertinent gallantries with my sister." "Good Heavens !" broke involuntarily from Simon He almost laughed aloud at what seemed to him a pre- posterous idea. ^ "Aye, you need not think to brazen it out What' you would have two sweethearts, you impudent dogi^ Why, what a Lothario is this ! But come, lose no time — promise me ! " "I do not know what you mean," returned Simon, with gathering indignation. " For shame ! Is nothing sacred to you ? You make as little of your own sister as ot the lady you profess to woo." "You need not think to put me off like that," cried ^ittord, turning his swollen and disfigured face towards ^im, and endeavouring to leer at him from out of his fast closing eye. "As far as Rachel is concerned, 1 leave her to you with an easy conscience, for you know as well as I do that you may whistle for her. iiut the affair with my sister is more serious. There IS no use in denying it, man-I tell you the girl herself has owned " But Simon threw out his hand suddenly, his eyes Hashing and his face crimson: ''Tell me nothing" he said sternly, «' I will make no compact with you beyond the one you know of. Be faithful to your share and I will keep silence-I will promise nothing more than r^' /^"'^ "°^^ ^^^^ yourself out of my sight, Edward Clifford, and keep that foul tongue of yours in order I have beaten you once in open fight— take care that I do not thrash you like a hound." Gifford slowly and painfully rose to his feet. "How the deuce am I to get away?" he inquired sullenly. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 155 ock — and s older — pertinent 1 Simon, im a pre- What! ;nt dog? no time Simon, nothing vn sister t," cried towards It of his icerned, for you for her. There herself is eyes ng," he beyond i and I e than id ward der. I that I "How illenly. "Every bone in my body is aching. I dare look no one in the face in this plight." " I will drive you to Ormskirk or Liverpool," cried Simon. " You can post home from there if you've a mind. I can give you a muffler to wrap round your face, and if you pull your hat over your eyes, people will not see that there is much amiss." " A most generous offer, truly, but I am in no mood for travelling to-day, thank you. Cousin. Still, if you will drive me to Liverpool I will get me to bed at one of the hotels there, have my hurt seen to, and proceed with my journey to-morrow. I will send a note to Mr. Charnock, saying that important business calls me home at once." " Then let us set out immediately," returned Simon. "*Tis nearly five o'clock: my men will soon be here." "Put in the horse," growled Gifford, "and fetch me that muffler you spoke of I have but to put on my coat and I am ready." He limped slowly back to the barn, and Simon at once went in search of the horse. In a few minutes they were speeding along the roughly-paved road that led to Liver- pool. They had almost reached their journey's end when Simon was surprised by a low chuckle from his com- panion. "That's right! Make the bt-st of it," he said, smiling down good-naturedly. "Aye, Cousin, things might have been worse," returned GifTord with a sardonic grin. " I'll get me another sweet- heart and order home my sister — and there'll be the devil to pay yonder." He fell to chuckling again. Simon, much mystified, gazed at him without speaking, " I'd give something to see old Charnock's face," cried Mr. Gifford. and sooke no more until, aliffhtinp- at the Adelphi Hotel, he issued an order for a bedroom and raw beefsteaks. !if 156 ' ' ik ? 'ii CHAPTER XIV. Will fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest letters? She either gives a stomach, auj no food,— Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast. And takes away the stomach.— such are the rich, That have abundance, and enjoy it not. —Shakespeare. All that day the wind raged furiously, but Simon went about his ordinary outdoor occupations in spite of the difficulty, not to say danger, attending them. Miss Belinda was much exercised in her mind because of his early expedition to Liverpool, and also because of his aieamy and preoccupied air. " If this kind of work goes on," she said to herself one of us 11 go silly_as like as not both. mJ word, my word, to M^:.. as that nic little lad should come to be such a softy now he is . man ' I have more than half a mind to ;, and live W' my Cousin rringie. Though Aunt Binney had frequenth .eld t' threat over both Simon and his father, she had never so iously tao^ght of putting it into execution as on this particular wit ly morning. " At least Cousin Pringle would have a word to throw to a body now and then," she reflected, "and there would be punty to do, helpin' her wi' the children and that • and it ^ . culd hearten up a body, too, to live t'other side oi Livcrpoo; anu see i'Mks ridin' in and out of town— ^ '^1, ^ leave the F, -m "-Miss Belinda groaned to herself, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 157 iPEARE, ion went e of the I. Miss 36 of his ie of his herself, h. My I should I have Cousin threat ion sly .rticui.ir 3 throw i wuuld d that ; or side town — herself, shook her head, and resumed her occupation with a glo ny face. S mon was silent and queer that morning, and seemed scarce right in's head, but when all was said an( i done she reckoned he would know when dinner-time came round. Simon indeed was punctuality itself, and in spite of the turmoil of his thoughts, and the consequent failure of his usually healthy appetite noon found him wending his way homewards. The path in front of him was strewn with torn leaves and fragments of branches ; as he glanced over the hedge at the orchard, he sighed to see the ground beneath the trees white with fallen bloom. Here and there a riven bough barred his progress for a moment, and the a- was full of the wild hurry and screaming of the wind. He was tired of the sound : he wanted breathing space to adjust the thoughts which had been pressing upon him ever since that encounter at early aawn. But it was difficult to be calm amid this disturbance of the elements ; moreover, his own frame was still tingling with excitement. Indoors, perhaps, he would be able to find a quiet moment ; but before he reached the Farm an incident occurred which threw his soul into even greater confusion. "Mr. Fleetwood," called a voice. "Simon Fleet- wood I " Amid the skirling of the blast he had not heard rapid footsteps hastening alom the path in his wake, and the often-repeated crv- which bade him tarry had only now reached his ears. He wheeled round quickly. A few paces away from -'" = &"i - wj^uic ^jau-—-^, too , mn LiaiK ciuak cnro 'n over her shoulders balooning in the wild, 1 le curly tresses loosened, the face flushed, the ^yes da^ cing w th eagerness. it] II 158 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Iff if'- ! . "Oh, Mr. Simon, what a race I have hadi" cried Rachel. " I thought I should never catch you, you must wear the giant's seven-leagued boots. What strides ! and you make no more of the wind than if it were a summer breeze, wiiile I am out of breath. I have been running and screammg for near a quarter of an hour." Simon hastily retraced his steps, and in a moment stood beside her. " I am very sorry," he stammered ; " I did not hear Do you want me, Miss Charnock-can I do anything for you ? ^ t> There was a pause- -the wind blew out the folds of Rachel's cloak, tearing them from her hand so that they flapped round her like great black wings ; her slight form stood revealed in its clinging white drapery, her arms in their short sleeves were exposed to the cold, fierce air Trembhngly Simon put forth his hand to draw the mantle round her, his face paling at his own audacity One little strand of hair which had been dancing on her brow was now blown right across her face : she was clutching tightly at her cloak and had no free hand wherewith to dis- entangle herself, and Simon looked and longed but did not dare. She shook her head like a petulant child and turned a little sideways, thus ridding herself of the silken veil ; and Simon breathed easily again, and was glad that he had not succumbed to the temptation. But her next words made him start. ''Do you know," she said in a low tone, so low that he had to bend down to catch the words, " do you know Simon, why I have run all this way, without any one's knowledge, just to see you ? It is because I know all that has happened, and I have come to bid you hope " There was so dead a silence after this that she turned roun- agam and otole a glance at him. And she saw that m his face which made her start and tremble in her turn YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 159 Simon's nature was a reserved one. He had no more mind to display his feehngs than have the genernlity of Englishmen ; but when he was deeply moved he sliowed it and was not for that reason less of a true n ->!, "Still waters run deep," the proverb says, but the converse does not always obtain ; for though shallow streams brawl and prattle over the pebbles a kw inches below their surface, who shall say that the mighty waters of an ocean are silent, or that a river rushes onward without noise? The mariner afloat on the illimitable seas marks how the waters leap highest there, where no man can plumb the depths, and knows that no sound in nature has half the volume of the mere breathing of the deep. Rachel gave a little gasp. "Ah, Mr. Simon," she cried, "how you must love her!" Simon woke from his dream and gazod at her in his turn, first bewildered, then deeply disturbed ; then he flushed to the very temples with an odd kind of shame. "Mr. Fleetwood," said Rachel a little distantly, "I think you are very extraordinary. You must know what I mean — indeed, you have betrayed yourself— but you would, I suppose, keep your secret from me. But let me tell you I know all about it, and will be your friend. Poor Bertha is very unhappy. You know, I suppose, since he was with you last night, that her brother has been called home on urgent business ? An express from Liverpool has just come, desiring her to join him there early to-morrow, and she considers herself obliged to obey the summons. It is all a mystery to her. but she thinks — shf criipcGP«c fh^<- «f- i^ on Ir^- " ^ her brother is anxious ^o get away from this place. She vvas inconsolable till I promised to tell you " i »i i6o YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. r But here Simon interrupted, with a pleading gesture though he spoke sternly enough. " Pray tell me no more ! There-there is a mistake." " But Bertha thinks " " I beg you, Miss Charnock, not to tell me what my Cousm Bertha thinks." He was going red and white by turns, and Rachel felt that he meant what he said bhe coloured now with anger and mortification. " I suppose you consider me very officious— or else you are a changeable person. Do you mean to tell me that you do not love Bertha Gifford ? " Fleetwood was silent for a moment ; never had he been m so pamful a predicament ; had any one but Rachel asked the question he would have curtly declined to answer, but he could not pursue such a course with her • he could not even parry the direct inquiry ; vet his modest and kindly soul revolted against the slight he was forced to put upon his little cousin. " Madam," he said gravely, - since you ask me I must tell you truly that my love for Bertha Gifford is such a love as a man might bestow upon his sister." "Then I must say I am at a loss to understand your conduct, cned Rachel indignantly. " Bertha does not want to be your si.ster. nor did your attitude towards her convey the impression that your affection for her was simply brotherly regard. Why did you, may I ask, so^ often look at her as if you loved her?" " Did I ? " ejaculated Simon, in such evident bewilder- ment that, in spite of her wrath, Rachel fell a-laughing thn^ V?; '""^""^ ^°" ^•^' '^"" ' ^ ^°'- «"^ ^vas certain that you had lost your heart to her " R.rh m' V f°'''>^.'" ^^'^ the yeoman simply; then, as Rachel laughed again, he looked at her inquiringly \ eu arc the very oddest man," she cried. " You did 1 assure you, and how do you account for it ? " YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. i6i " Why," said Simon, looking at her with those frank, earnest eyes of his, " I have lived such a lonely life, and I— have so little to say to women, that when I saw this pretty creature I admired her, I suppose, and suffered my admiration to be seen. And besides," he added, with a retrospective glance at the scene of that first meeting, " besides, you see, she is so very like my mother ; hovv could I feel otherwise than tenderly towards one who is indeed my own flesh and blood ? " Rachel had stopped laughing and gazed at him re- flectively : " Of course you are a kind of hermit," she said, " but it is quite time you came out of the desert. Pray, do you never mean to marry, Mr. Simon ? " In deep confusion the young man stammered that he thought it most unlikely. " Yet even the mere suggestion makes you blush " ; cried Rachel, " I believe you are roniantic in your heart." She surveyed him for a moment in silence, while the colour ebbed slowly out of his face, leaving it very pale. "One thing, however, you have not explained," she continued, with more severity. " How comes it that when I bade you hope, just now, you looked as if the heavens themselves had opened?" The dark eyes shone out from beneath the dancing curls, and there was a long, long silence ; and then Simon, looking full at her, said quietly, "I cannot tell you. Miss Charnock ". " I might have saved myself my long run it seems," she returned, gathering her cloak more closely round her and pulling its hood farther down over her face. "But now I must be getting back. There will be such a disturbance if my absence is discovered— in truth it is rash to venture out in this storm— and I assure you -- 15, ,, aiit-atj^- iii 3Uiu<,icut cuniusion. iviy mother has gone to see Mr. Renshaw " Simon started again. Ill ,MmM II 1 62 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. i: " To see Mr. Renshaw? " he repeated. "Yes; is it not dangerous in such weather? I must hasten back before she returns. And my father has had a note from Mr. Gifford, and it has put him into such a temper— but I ought not to speak about my father's temper ! And Humphrey is very ill-humoured to-day. All the morning he has been seeking an inter- view with Bertha, but when Bertha sees him coming she runs out of the room. But now the question is," she pursued in a serious tone, " What am I to say to' her? I would she had not known that I was coming to you. I must say I have not seen you. Will you think me very wicked if I tell a fib?" " I think," he returned seriously, '< that it is always better to tell the truth." Rachel reddened and tossed her head. " You need not be so greatly scandalised— it is not always possible to tell the truth. Even in the Bible it is made to seem quite right not to tell the truth. Do you remember the story of Rachel? I have always loved it ; but I think that Jacob should not have con- sented to marry Leah." " Even if Leah loved him ? " put in Simon in a low voice. The words broke from him involuntarily, and he had scarcely uttered them ere he blushed again furiously and bit his lip. Rachel blushed too, she knew not why. "But what am I to say to Bertha?" she repeated, intending to change the subject, and yet feeling in some indefinable way, even as she spoke, that she had better have chosen any other. Simon uttered a kind of groan. "Oh, such things should never be spoken of! She should not have known that you were coming to me. You should—not have told me " " Then you would have people pine their lives away YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 163 I must ther has bim into )out my imoured in inter- ning she is," she to her? ; to you. me very always : IS not 3ible it h. Do always /e con- a low and he riously >t why. Deated, 1 some better ! She away without knowing the truth ! " cried Rachel impetuously. "Such thin^^s should never be spoken of. What folly! Why, how are people ever to find out that they love each other if they do not speak of it ? Can you imagine such a thing, Mr. Fleetwood, as a man being silent when he is in love? " " I can imagine it very well," he said quietly. "You disapprove of my having spoken to Bertha?" she inquired. " I do not like to hear such things discussed," he said gravely. *' Believe me. I shall never meddle with your affairs again, Mr. Fleetwood," she cried, and turning swiftly she ran away, leaving Simon looking after her. Impelled by some unaccountable impulse, Rachel turned at the end of a few yards, and looked back and saw that his face was filled with a curious longing and sorrow, at which she was much puzzled and a little perturbed. Simon's behaviour was altogether unaccountable, and more than once that day she asked herself what could be the meaning of it; but, contrary to her usual custom, she did not discuss the matter with her mother. That windy day, which began so eventfully for Simon, was destined ere its close to alter the whole course of his life. An hour or two later, after a pretence of dining, he prepared to sally forth once more into the very teeth of the storm, not because any out-door work was possible on such a day, but because, contrary to his anticipations of the morning, he could not brook to sit still in the house. He could not think— he could not rest— his mind was in a fever, his whole soul had risen in revolt. But even as he stood upon the threshold, button- ing up his coat, 3 carriage drove with a clatter into the yard, and Madam Charnock descended from it. i m 164 IM YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Before turning to Simon she desired her coachman to drive home, adding that she would make her way back on foot. Then, giving her hand to the young farmer, she told him hurriedly that she had come to confer with him on a matter of importance. "Take me, Simon," she added urgently, "to your mother's room ; we must be undisturbed." Miss Binney was safe in the back premises, and would not have been likely to intrude upon them in the oak parlour, but, for greater security, Simon acceded to the lady's request, and ushered her upstairs to the bright tenantless room which held for both of them so many memories. The lady loosened her cloak and threw back her hood ; her face was wan and anxious, and Simon marked with regret how prematurely white was the abundant hair, once so raven black. She did not speak for a moment, and his heart which had been beating quicker than its wont ever since his encounter with Rachel, now began to thump violently. After a long pause she turned to him with the keen inquiring glance he remembered of old. "Simon," she said, "what have you done to your • cousin Gifford?" He hesitated a moment, and then replied, with a glance as keen : " I have fought him, because l' deemed him unworthy to be your daughter's husband". In spite of her anxiety, the lady smiled at the blunt, straightforward speech. " Pray, Simon," quoth she, " do you intend to select a husba .^ for Rachel, and will you do battle to all the suitors you think unfitting?" " Far be it from me to interfere in such a matter," he returned in a low voice ; " but in this case I think I had a right ; he was my kinsman. I would not have one of my own blocd do her an injury." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 165 :hman to A^ay back I farmer, nfer with ' to your id would the oak ;d to the le bright 30 many ■ew back \ Simon was the ot speak beating ter with ' a long g glance to your • with a deemed ic blunt, select > all the ter," he 1 had a one of a Then if a good and honourable man came forward, Mr. Fleetwood, you could rejoice in Rachel's happi- ness ? " " Madam," returned Simon, with eyes upon the ground, " you surely know that I could not rejoice — but I would submit." She heaved a deep sigh and sank into a chair, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her head upon her hand as though she were weary. After a long silence she dropped her hand and looked at him. " I know all about it, Simon," she said. ''After Mr. Gifford's letter to my husband this morning " " What, did my cousin write to the Squire, Madam ? " interrupted Simon with a start. " I thought he meant to keep the matter secret. I thought he had been too proud to own that I had beaten him." " Oh, he did not own it — you may trust him to pre- serve his dignity. He wrote to my husband about a — a different affair," She broke off, a faint flush of shame covering her face. Simon averted his eyes. " I understand," he said hastily ; " it will not be neces- sary to enter into that matter." " Nay, but unfortunately it is necessary," said Madam Charnock, lifting her head. " Oh, Simon, what use is there in attempting to disguise my sorrow and my shame ? I cannot palliate my husband's conduct — I cannot even comprehend it. I can but look on 't as a kind of aberration. Were he in his right mind, had it not been for the wretched cares and anxieties which have recently distracted him, he could not have stooped " .she broke off, covering her face with her hands. Simon said nothing; ; he had seen many painful sights in his twenty-seven years ; he had even witnessed in the same hour the death of both his parents: yet, in all his days, he had never beheld anything more piteous 1 1 1 i66 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. m than this noble woman facing the revelation of the worthless nature of the man she had sworn to love and honour. Suddenly a sob broke from her, and she said, wringinjT her hands, " But Simon, when I think, he is an/rv- angry because his project has failed ! Oh God ! Giffbrd's very words should have brought him to his senses. I feel branded by them-they are burnt into my very heart Listen, this is what he wrote: 'The bargain is ott : 1 have changed my mind. I hope you will find some one equally accommodating.'" Simon ground his teeth and clenched his hands '• I would I had not let him off so easily!" he said under his breath. "Ah. Simon, you did indeed well to protect her Heaven knows what might have been her fate if you had not interfered I Though, thank God, my child has still one parent to watch over her. While her mother hves no drunken libertine shall call her wife ; while her mother lives there shall be no more such 'bargains'. Yet that it should be .so_that I must needs feel I must protect the child against her father i " She wept a little, silently, and presently wiped her eyes and looked up. " Well, I must make my way back to her. She of course must never know. Do not be so distressed my good Simon-I did not come here to distress you but to ascertain if my suspicions were correct. I found out part of the truth from Mr. Ren- shaw--after the letter this morning I felt 1 could not res without knowing all. I made him tell me ali that took place last night, and all-" her voice faltered-" all that had gone before. I knew so much that he was bound to tell me, and then I guessed that )ou must in o^.n^ ^ay nave caused this inlamous project to fall through. I see I was right. f thank you for your YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 167 in 1 of the love and wringing angry — Giffbrd's ■nses. I Tiy very irgain is ivili find he said ect her. if you lild has mother hile her rgains '. I must )ed lier \y back- not be here to iS were r. Rcn- jld not ili that J— "all he was Tjust in to fall >r your faithful service to my Rachel." She paused and presently resumed, in an altered tone : " Forget what I have said if you can ". " Madam," said Simon hesitatingly, " I will try to remember only how good the Squire has been to me and mine, and how my father loved and honoured him." There was silence in the room for a little space. Simon's mind wandered back to his childhood, when the Squire's name had been a household word. He remembered how flattered he had been by Mr. Charnock's kindly notice, how he had admired his genial ways, his handsom.e face. He found it hard to reconcile his boyish idea of the lord of Charnleigh with his present knowledge of the man's ignoble weakness and callousness. It seemed hard to realise that the seeds which had now borne such bitter fruit had been merely dormant in those early days, and had recently been quickened into active growth by self- indulgence and extravagance. As for Madam Charnock, Simon's words had sent her also travelling back to the past, but she was thinking of another man : a man in very truth — upright, honour- able, staunch — Simon's father ; and of the woman who had thought herself thrown away upon him at first, and who was afterwards so glad to cling to him and to rejoice in his protecting love. Mrs. Charnock felt a recurrence of the old irritation as she thouirht of how tardy the awakening had been, how slow this woman had been to realise the existence of her own happiness. The thought suggested another and with a little start she glanced at Simon. " It pains me, my good friend, that you should waste your young life and your young love. I — I presume that you have not yet conquered your passion for my daughter? 1 suppose we were mistaken in thinking you cared for Bertha! Ah, why do you doom yourself thus ,1 i % H 1 68 n" VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. to loneliness! You are letting the best years of your life slip past, all for a vain fancy." ^ "You ought to know, madam," replied Simon sternly hat ,t ,s no fancy. But do not let us speak of it I make no complamt. If you are returning home now " he contmued in an altered tone, " let me a?compan> you reC^h'T''' *'.'? '■'' ="" ^'°""y -d fhe road are rough You may find your way blocked by fallen rees Would it not be wiser to remain herequiedy a,^ thro' Ith: '° T'J"' '""' ^""^^^^ The shori t tnrough the wood is dangerous." "No, no, I will walk," she replied hastily. " I must get home quickly; I do not wish my husband to k^ow guessed thaT,r- «r ."^""'^ "'^ '^'^ "^ "^ 'f he guessed hat I knew ! I w,sh to spare him that humilia- tion. Oh with what a web of duplicity do we seem to be entang ed ! Mr. Renshaw is anxiousl concealTom h™ the share you have taken in this business, Simon • g?ve you" "'" " "'"-*^ ^''"'- -°"'d never for-' Outr.^!r "■'P,'^' ""'^ ''■' '"'' ""= ^™^ downstairs. paced tvthl^H '''": '"" ^'°'-™-"''^l^". «"d Simon paced by the lady's side without attempting to speak She drew her cloak closely about her and bent her head fonvard, yet could advance but slowly against the driving m->daT?""h°7t '.T"'' ^''- " '™ ^°" '^^^ "'y ""-. maciam ? he asked hesitatingly. She passed her hand through his arm without replying and they proceeded, as before, in silence, but a little more rapidly now, for the yeoman's arm was strong and she was glad of its support. It seemed long before they came to the path which led through the wood, and ; ^'"'•°" °"'"' ™ore endeavoured to dissuade her from pursuing it. But she was firm ; and he opened the \ ill YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 169 s of your •n sternly, of it. I ne now," pan> you the roads by fallen letly, and short cut " I must to know ^es if he hum ilia- seem to eal from Simon ; ever for- tairs. i Simon > speak, er head driving ny arm, jplying, a little strong, before )d, and de her led the gate preparing to follow her as she passed through ; she turned, however, and faced him ; her eyes looked dim beneath cfte shadow of her hood. ** I need not trouble you to come any farther," she said ; " I can find my way quite well from here." He made no further protest, and she hurried along the narrow path which led beneath the trees. He paused, looking after her, unwilling to leave the spot in his fear lest some accident might befall her. With what wild fury did the wind rush amid those creaking boughs, how easily it might snap them ! There, at the edge of the wood, he could see one or two tall saplings laid prone upon the ground ; and over his head how the trees rocked, how the boughs swayed ! The air was full of a rain of broken twigs and torn leaves — the fresh green of this year mingling with the dry spoil of last autumn, which was caught up and whirled about in brown turbulent eddies. Should he go home, or should he follow the lady at a distance? Even while he cogitated a sound was borne to him on the very wings of the storm which sought to drown it : a shriek — a woman's shriek. He hastened forward along the path down which she had disappeared, coming all at once to a spot where the trees grew more sparsely, and where, in consequence, the wind had more scope to work its will. There, straight in front of him, he saw a fallen tree, beneath a branch of which Madam Charnock lay prostrate. In a moment Simon was by her side and had drawn her OMt into the open ; there was a purple mark upon her brow, and her eyes were closed. He lifted her, and prepared to carry her out of the wood, for there was danger in every moment they remained there. His heart stood still as he gazed down into the pale face — what if she were already beyond the reach of danger ? I70 if,' YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. A few rapid strides brought him once more to the gate where they had parted, and. having carried her to a safe distance from the wood. h. laid her on the bank by the side of the road, fetched water m his hat from the stream hard by, reverently loosened her c. -ak and hood, and bathed her brow. After a (cw moments she opened he, e- es, and his worst foreboding was dismissed ; but ner face looked drawn and ghastly, and her faltering words terrified him. "Simon." she said, "is this death? Oh my God what will become of Rachel ! " The dark eyes, full of unutterable anguish, gazed up into the co.npassionate face which was bent over her ; at that moment it seemed the very embodiment of strength and tenderness. She turned feebly, and clung to Simon's arm. I leave her to you," she murmured faintly. *' Take her, Simon ; promise me to protect her- to take care of her. " So help me God, I will ! " said Simon s, mnly. ■B Tf ">re to the arried her ler on the in his hat her Ci -ak moments )ding was astly, and my God, as, full of jassionate it seemed ess. She . " Take :e care of SOijmnly. 171 CHAPTER XV. I fold to-day at altars far apart, Hands trembling with what toils? In their retreat, I seal my love to be. —Alice Mevnell. But Madam Charnock did not die. She awoke to consciousness in a quaint panelled room, which she seemed to '•'"cognise, but which was certainly not her own. Fa ame and went about the great four- post bed, but V iier she saw them in a dream or they were realities, s.ie was too drowsy to verify. Now Rachel's face appeared between the curtains, now the Squire's ; Miss Belinda's countenance hovered there for a few moments, and was succeeded by that of Purbeck, Mrs. Charnock's own maid. There was a strange man's voice in the room, a strange man's hand upon her brow ; it rested on her wrist for a time, and then the room seemed empty again, though Madam Charnock knew t.at Rachel was sitting behind the curtain at her head. She was conscious all the while of a want, a desire, the nature of which she could not define. She had some great plan in her head, some very important piece of business to transact, but she could not at the time remember what it was. By-and-bye, however, Rachel's pretty face was thrust round the curtain, and bent down so close to he mother that she stretched out a feeble hand and touched it. It was no dream, that was Rachel's cheek, soft and Dale and wet — was it with tears? Then all at once Madam Charnock knew what it was she wanted. ** Is Simon there?" she asked faintly. -«! MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 2.8 1^ ■^ IIIIM If m tuuu 1 2.2 2£ 1.8 1.4 1.6 ^ ^^LIED IIVMGE 1653 East Main Street Rochester New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - OJOO - Phone (716) 288- 5989 -Fax Inc 172 I'iiU! YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. (( This is Simon's house, Mother dearest, and he is downstairs." "Ask him to come here." Rachel looked surprised, but immediately rose and after a moment or two Simon stood by the bed. Rachel was there, too, a pace or two away. ^ "Come close. Simon," murmured Madam Charnock • bend down, I want to ask you something, and I know you will tell me the truth." She gazed searchingly at his face ; its expression was the same as that on which her eyes had closed a little while before-tender, grave, and compassionate ^^ Am I dying, Simon ? " she whispered earnestly. I hope and believe not, madam," he returned, in the same tone. "You have had a bad accident, but the doctor thinks with care you will recover." " Did I say anything to you just now-when you took me out of the wood ? " "Yes, madam." " I thought I was dying," she murmured. " That will do ; l—I do not want you any more, Simon " JLT '"'" '^u '^' '^°''^ ^'' 'y^' ^hen, else she would have seen that on Simon's face which would have disturbed her-a protest, a sudden resolution. But he said nothing, and went quickly out of the room. Miss lielinda was waiting for him on the threshold u.h'lf '""""i'-?^^ "'^^"^ '" ^ scandalised tone, "eh Simon, whatever did you go in there for ? The forwardness of it ' Why I wouldn't go in myself now Madam's there ; and the Squire turned out by the doctor and all, and her to be kept so quiet! Eh, my gracious goodness, and to think of your walkin' up like that into the lady's room • " quietl ^'^^'"°^^ ^^"t for me," he returned very " Sent for thee, did she ? And whatever did she want ? " YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 173 Simon's lips curled with the rather bitter smile which they had worn once before that day. " I do not think she knows herself, Aunt Binney. The poor lady is wandering, you must remember. She sent for me to say she did not want me." Downstairs the Squire was standing with his back to the fire — he had called out for a fire when he found the doctor's deliberations would probably be lengthy — speak- ing in loud cheery tones. He was one of those men who are always in extremes, and now his relief at finding that his wife's accident was not likely to prove fatal had made him forget the agitation and disappointment of the morning. He loved her as much as it was in his nature to love anything, and had passed the most anxious and uncomfortable hours of his life while wait- ing for the doctor to arrive from Liverpool, but now, in the reaction, his spirits rebounded unnecessarily high. Madam was going to get well at once — she had a splendid constitution, she would be up and about before anybody knew where they were. She would have the best of care and attention at the Farm, he was sure of that. Her own maid was there, moreover, and, as Rachel had set her heart upon staying with her mother, well so she might, for one night at least. Friend Fleetwood would extend his hospitality to her ; and Miss Belinda, too, was sure to look after her. He knew that he himself would only be in the way, so he would go back to the Hall presently and appear again in the morning. Then Mr. Charnock buttoned up his coat, and shook hands warmly with Friend Fleetwood and Miss Belinda, thanking them both heartily for their hospitality, and congratulating Simon on so cleverly coming upon his lady in the very nick of time. He drove homewards in the best possible spirits, but his exhilaration evaporated all too soon, after his arrival J ji ^A'i 1. 1 174 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. at Charnle,gh Hall, for the servants were irritating enough to go about with gloomy faces, all being sorely anxious about their good mistress. Miss Gifford more over, had departed, deeming that her presence would be mconve„,ent at such a moment, and feeling, once she had been reassured as to the condition of Madam Char- nock, almost relieved at the pretext which enabled her to escape from Humphrey. Before she had left the house however, he had cornered her and made his proposal in due ,orm. receiving to his chagrin and astonishment a scared but determined refusal. He now greeted his Znl .t '°""'"^ ''™"' '""" *« P-> ^'« 'lo-n to tZ Z I ""^ "'°''" °f '^"'"°"'-^- Mr. Charnock bethought h,m once more of that unaccountable change and°ofT f .";: f^"°- Gifford. of his own difficulties ^15,000. And Humphrey's meditations were much of the same nature ; he, too, had liabilities which he had in- worthv Mr?;''!; '.'' ""'""' — "'ated by the late caree^^ AM U^ ""'1'^ ^'" P™^?^™"^ commercial career. A I had seemed to piomise well at first and t^ZVf'l ^'r^-^ "' ""'"' ^"^ - unaccountable as that^of her brother. Not that uncle and nephew confided ,n each other ; the Squire fondly hoped thaT hreirT; r^ 'r™;-'^ •" R-shaw^i^o^d, I'd niniself , and Humphrey, for hi^ , was determfnpH tn cousm Rachel, whom he more than half suspected of brmgmg .t about. He was angry with hereon rnore than one account, and yet he looked forward wUran Which would enable him to take her to task. lister/ h' ^'"'°"i ""'"S °PP»''^ his aunt, was dav Sh^'u Tl , ^°"""cnts on the events of the day. bhe had been babbling for some little time about f^f YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 175 the accident, about the curious coincidence which had brought Simon to Charnleigh Woods just at the right moment — with a digression as to his foolhardiness in hazarding himself upon such a spot in such weather — and had wandered on to speak of the Liverpool physician, of Madam Charnock's maid, of Madam herself; how ghastly she had looked when Simon had carried her in, and how she, Miss Binney, had given her up for dead. " Eh, when I saw her laid upon the bed where your poor mother died, Simon, it give me a t'lrn — that it did. When ! see her white face on the pillow 1 couldn't but think o' th' other white face as we last see lying there, you and me, my poor lad. Not that your mother's eyes looked same as Madam's — eh, I was fair frightened when Madam opened those great dark eyes, lookin' about her so strange ; and her face is dark, tc^o — and your mother's, you know, Simon, was white as a lily. Eh dear, when I think of all we have seen in yon room ! 'Twasn't your grandmother's room, yc^-^ know, Simon ; it used to be a spare room ; but when your mother came as a bride she fancied it, you see ; she reckoned it was prettier nor t'other, and your father couldn't deny her nought, and he had it all done up for her wi' new hangings and a new carpet. Eh, you were born in that room, Simon, and your mother and father died there. Dear o' me ! And now Madam Charnock's there, and the young lady. Well, I am sorry as aught should happen to Madam, and I hope, that I do, she'll soon be about again —eh, Simon, it 'ud be terrible, wouldn't it, if she was to die here in our best room ? " Simon's mind had drifted away on what seemed to be a long reverie. He was resting his elbows on the table and his chin upon his hand. His face — as much of i' as could be seen — wore a look whicn rather scandalised III :» 176 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Miss Binney at such a juncture-a kind of inner gladness a brightness usually foreign to it. He now roused himself with a start : " Heaven forbid, my dear Aunt." " Heaven forbid, indeed, Nephew I And what you are looking so pleased about I am sure I cannot imagine. There IS nothing to smile at that I can see. Dear oh dear, I am fair moidered-I scarce know whether I'am on my head or my heels. To thmk of Madam lyin' yonder in your mother's bed, and Miss Rachel sittin' s^tranjer'-"'"- ""' ^' ''^ ^^'™ ' ^°-"'' '' -"> an^ flllt refmtg ^gaT^ ''' "'''''' '"' -™-''- w^^^tm'T. «' ^™' """' "P"^'""'' """^ ^" *e house was still , but Simon sat long by the chimney corner For now and then some slight sound overhead made him start, and his face would light up and his heart beat She was here under his roof_in his mother's room' saT^thl'T'"7 °?°''S"='"' '"emories-memories so sad that hey brought tears even to the eyes of this most manly of men-it had now become filled with a sweetness wholly unalloyed. It enshrined life-fair and young and bright-and Simon, worshipping before it compassed it about with his own hopes and a seer t palpitatmg joy. That day a double revelation had come to him • his brief conversation with Rachel had shown her to him in a new light. He knew her now to be no angel ha"lf hili°;1r'" '"' """' '"' ""''"S -hat she wS: fhe foli^" ''f r"l"" ' °"' -ho had not yet cast away the follies of the irresponsible age, and in whom the no 's'^ar tn°h %°' "r/"''°°' ^''' ^'^""'"g- She was ^o star to be aHor^^d from af-r ^-v -u- u iruni aiar, lo shine remorselessiv over a man's head all his days; her light was rather of YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 177 the homely order, which might twinkle on his hearth, giving forth warmth and radiance in proportion as he approached it. He had felt her to be nearer to him then, and her mother's words a few hours later had placed her actually within his grasp. Simon's heart bounded as he thought of those words : " I leave her to you, take her". It was characteristic of the man that he set aside completely the subsequent withdrawal of them. With him there was no go'*- back upon a promise, and he would not condone another's breach of faith. He was gentle, tolerant, forgiving, both by nature and training, but there was a limit to his forbearance, and even had the matter not touched him so deeply, he would not have permitted any one with whom he had to deal to draw back after having gone so far. His resolution was settled, therefore, and his plan of action determined ; he would hold Madam Charnock to her word. And for the rest, what difficulties could he not overcome, what feats could he not accomplish to win sweet Rachel's love ? Once secure of the right to woo her on an equal footing, how could he fail to make her love him, seeing that he loved her so much, and that there was nothing in all the world that he would not do for her sake ? All at once he rose and crossed the room to the bookcase in the corner, taking from the lowest shelf the great family Bible, the fly-leaves of which contained crabbed records of the births, marriages, and deaths of so many generations of Fleetwoods. But Simon did not pause to consider these entries now ; he turned the pages rapidly until he came to that on which was set forth the story which Rachel loved so well — the story of her namesake. He read it slowly through, breaking off now and then to lean back in his chair and meditate with a smiling face. Closing the book at last, he 12 !l m r.ll hi Mi ^i.i if •>1 » I ' ^' rA*« ■ML . 1/8 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. replaced it on the shelf, and then paused, listening to the sound of footsteps overhead. When all was still again he murmured half aloud, - There shall be no Leah my sweet ! " Then suddenly thro, 'ing up his arms, he prayed earnestly : - God, my God, give her to me ! " 179 CHAPTER XVI. So on he fares, and to the border comes, Of Eden. -Milton. Mrs. Charnock's constitution was, as her husband said, an excellent one ; she soon rallied from the shock, and her injuries proved for the most part to be mere con- tusions. It was not, however, considered safe to move her for some days ; and meanwhile Rachel came and went, bringing light and hope with her, as Simon often thought. Every tone of her voice thrilled him ; he listened for the sound of her foot ; he came back to the house a dozen times a day merely because she was there. At night he would stand beneath the window of the room where she slept beside her mother, gazing at the little twinkling light, mind and heart absorbed in a voiceless prayer of rejoicing and thanksgiving. At last the time came for them to return to the Hall, and, with many expressions of gratitude for their kindness and hospitality, Madam Charnock took leave of him and his aunt. She was careful not to be 0-^2 moment alone with Simon, and even in saying farewc 1 she scarcely dared to look him in the face. But as he attended her to the carriage she stole a glance at him, half expecting to find his features convulsed with despairing grief. But no such expression was there ; his face was calm and even placid ; yet when his eyes, attracted by her gaze, were turned upon her she read there something which frightened her — not anger, not even reproach, but steady determination. i8o YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. \k 1^ During the next few days a period of calm seemed to succeed the bh'ssful unrest of the preceding week The inhabitants of the Hall gave no sign, and Simon, often as he walked abroad, heard no news of them, save that Mr Humphrey had departed. One afternoon, however he resolved to take decided action for himself, and rode into the town to pay a visit to Mr. Renshaw. He found that gentleman poring with knitted brows over a pile of papers, and was received by him with anything but cordiality. " Well, sir," began the old lawyer as soon as the door closed behind Simon, " a pretty kettle of fish has come of your mterference ! You have made a nice mess of it yonder, and got me in a deuced awkward corner." Simon smiled, not at the variety of metaphors, but at his own thoughts, and sat down unconcernedly "Now, Mr. Renshaw," he said, "you must explain yourself. Smce you have said so much, you must say more. What is the real state of affairs at the Hall ? " " Upon my soul, Simon Fleetwood, I find it hard to tell you. Affairs at the Hall are in a very bad way indeed, sir. Everything is entangled— turned topsy- turvy, I may say. And just as there seemed to be a way out of the difficulties you must put a finger in the pie. Confound you, what business have you to interfere? What IS It to you whom the young lady marries— or who pays court to her, let us say, with a hope of marriage ? Why couldn't you at least have held your tongue until the papers were signed? Twenty-four hours would have done It." ^ "How did you find out that I had anything to say to It ? inquired Simon. " Pooh, do you take me for an owl ? You carry off the young man over night, and he changes his mind the next morning. After being as keen about the business: YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. i8i 5eemed to !ek. The 1, often as : that Mr. >vever, he rode into 3und that 1 pile of hing but the door las come less of it r." rs, but at explain nust say all?" hard to bad way I topsy- )e a way the pie. ? What 'ho pays ? Why ntil the Id have say to :arry off lind the business, as a man could be, he veers round and says he will have nothing to do with it. Some influence must have been brought to bear upon him, and he was subjected to none but yours. You need not deny it, sir." " I do not deny it. Is the Squire aware of my part in the matter ? " " Is the Squire aware I " repeated the old lawyer, throwing himself back in his chair and rubbing his nose with every appearance of irritation. " No, sir, thank Heaven, he is not aware. I have kept the matter from him for my own sake. You have played a confounded unfriendly trick on me, young fellow. I thought you were getting me out of a mess when I allowed you to carry away your cousin, but, egad, you have got me into a far greater one. The Squire," said Mr. Renshaw, leaning forward and shaking his head solemnly, " is neither to hold nor to bind, Simon Fleetwood, and upon my soul I am sorry for him. Do you know, man, that we shall have the bailiffs in the Hall before we have done? Aye, unless something short of a miracle happens, the place will be gutted of pictures, library, everything, in short, that is not entailed." "Can he not raise the money elsewhere, then?" in- quired the yeoman. " My dear sir, money is not easy to raise when you have mortgaged your property almost up to the hail door, and overdrawn at the bank until the bankers themselves have come dov/n upon you. That is the difficulty, y-i M see. Who'd advance money on the Charnleigh property now ? No one that I know of, even at a ruinous rate of interest ; and, let me tell you, Mr. Charnock is already so hampered that he would have found it extremely difficult to pay Gifford the six hundred pounds odd, which would have been due to him annually at the very moderate rate of interest that I arranged." i. m If *j « ft ii'itiijimiimwmtsi 1 82 VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. *4 " Yes, I can well believe it," returned Simon medi- tatively. "The estate to begin with is shockin^dy mismanaged— 1 can see it for myself. That great Home Farm which Mr. Charnock keeps in his own hands, why most of the best land is suffered to lie fallow "' "For the good reason," put in Mr. Renshaw, "that there is no money to work it with. For the same cause there is scarcely a head of stock upon it." " Well," said Simon, looking fixedly at his old friend, " I came here this morning, Mr. Renshaw, to make a proposal to you on this very subject. I know a way of getting the Squire out of his difficulties." ^^ "Do you indeed?" replied the lawyer sarcastically. " I always knew you to be a wiseacre, Simon. Well, let us hear what you propose. " •' Simply this : that you go straightway to Mr. Char- nock, and tell him you have found a person ready to take up the mortgage dropped by Mr. Gifford, on the same terms." The lawyer started, gasped, and slowly rubbed his hands. "And the name of this person is ?" he inquired after a pause. " The name of this person is Yeoman Fleetwood." Mr. Renshaw rose and came close to him. " Are you in earnest?" "I am most thoroughly in earnest. You can tell the Squire that it was I who dissuaded Edward Gifford from completing the arrangement originally agreed to, and that in consequence I proposed to take his place." " My dear lad, why should I tell him that? He will be so angry at your interference that it— it may prevent his taking advantage of your offer." "I do not think so," replied Simon. "Besides it is necessary for many reasons that he should know. How YEOMAN FLEKTWOOD. 183 ion medi- hockingly 2at Home tnds, why w, " that me cause Id friend, make a a way of :a.stically. 1. Well, /Tr. Char- ready to I, on the 3bed his — ?" he lod." Are you tell the Gifford reed to, ake his He will prevent des it is \ How else could you account for my being aware of his con- tact with Gifford ? " •' Why, your cousin might have told you, you know," replied the lawyer. '"As a matter of fact, he did tell you. Oh, I could have found some explanation which would have been quite satisfactory." '* I prefer the Squire to know the truth," returned the young man firmly. " Let me know what he says, and tell him, if he considers my proposal, I will discuss further details with him in person." " You said, I believe, Simon, you were willing to agree to the same terms as those originally laid down ? " said Mr. Rcnshaw with a sidelong glance at him. " Four per cent, you know, and there will be hard work to find that. By George, you take me by surprise. I knew you to be a man of substance, but I scarcely thought that you had ;^ 1 5,000 on hand to throw about so lightly." "To throw about, Mr. Renshaw?" repeated Simon in affected surprise. " Surely this is an investment?" " Oh, yes, yes, an investment of course — a — a very fair investment, Simon. You are a good fellow to seek to help us out of our difficulties, but upon my soul, I do not know what you do it for. Come, I was your father's friend and legal adviser, and so I tell you frankly that this is a risky affair — verv risky, and — and though you did spoil that little plan of ours, and I was very much annoyed with you, very much annoyed indeed, you are not on that account bound to make the deficit good. There ! now I have eased my conscience. Remember you will most certainly never see your principal again, and as for your interest, it will be an uncertain quantity." " My good old friend," said Simon shaking him by the hand, " I understand the case very well. Now that you have said your say to me, tell me when will you say mine to the Squire?" !!!l itl 1 84 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Why, this evening," cried Mr. Renshaw. " Since you are bent on going on with the affair we cannot set about It too quickly. I will drive over to the Hall this very hour, and will call at the Farm on my way back You are absolutely determined, Simon ? " "Absolutely determined." The lawyer shook hands with him again, his face, now that his conscientious scruples were finally set at rest wearmg an expression of joyful relief Simon took up' his hat, and rode off, well content. A few hours later Mr. Renshaw's chaise drove up to the Farm, and the old man was ushered into the parlour Miss Belinda was established in her usual chair, busily knitting, while waiting for Simon to return for supper She welconied the visitor cordially, pressed him to s^-ay and share the evening meal, and seemed much astonished at his abstracted manner. ^ "Simon will be in in a minute." she announced- he said we was to send him word if any one came but I did not know he expected you; he might have cold me, I think, but a body 'ud fancy that Simon's words were gold and silver, he is that careful of them Id have had a bit of somethin' extra for supper if I'd fta known you was comin', Mr. Renshaw." " I can only stay a few minutes, Miss Belinda, indeed Simon IS outside, you say? If you will tell me where he IS I w,l go to him. I have just come to see him on — on a little matter of business." " Is Simon thinkin' of makin' his will ? " inquired the lady with her head on one side. " I always told him twas a thmg I'd be seein' to. Why, if he was to die to-morrow the money 'ud have to be divided, I am told between the next o' kin ; and Cousin Pringle 'ud be puttin' in for her share-^her as is right well off aVeady. and nobbut first cousin once removed to Simon There s YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 185 Since you sel- about this very :k. You ace, now at rest, took up e up to parlour, r, busily supper, to stay onished >unced ; - came, it have simon's ' them. ■ if I'd ndeed. where lim on 2d the i him to die 1 told, )uttin' ', and ere s folks as is nearer to Simon nor that, it is to be hoped — them as has brought him up," ** To be sure, to be sure," agreed the lawyer, chuckling to himself at the notion of the white-haired woman's prudent foresight. Truly the contingency seemed remote enough that she should survive her stalwart nephew. "Simon is in the barn yon," pursued Miss Belinda, " but you cannot be carryin' ink and paper out there." " I do not require either, thank you, ma'am. In the barn, you say? I'll just step across to him." Simon's men had been threshing that day, but now work was over, and the barn was empty of all save the master. He was gazing about him pensively enough when Mr. Renshaw entered. " I have seen the Squire," began the lawyer, looking round with a cautious glance, and button-holing his young friend. '' I have seen him, and told him that you are ready to adv .^e the money. I just mentioned incidentally that your cousin bad incautiously let drop that he was lending money on mortgage on the Charn- leigh estate. The Squire frowned, I promise you, Simon, and banged the table with his fist — ' I'll be bound, Renshaw,' says he, ' Fleetwood has been running down the property — letting out that at this moment it is ::ot in a profitable condition. Hang it, sir,' says he, * I believe that fellow Fleetwood was the cause of Gifford's throwing up the affair.' " "Well," interrupted Simon impatiently, "there was your opportunity. Did you not seize it?" The old man looked at him somewhat shamefacedly. " Upon my soul, Fleetwood, when the Squire's in that mood I do not like to argue with him. He is an unreasonable man, and never can be got to see matters in the right light, and, my dear lad, 1 must own to you that I think your share in this affair looks peculiar, very HI '1 1 86 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. to rlT tt> u' "' ' "^"^ '^y' incomprehensible to me. Well," he pursued, " Mr. Charnock next asked me ,f I imagined you had any ulterior motive in putting a spoke in this wheel of his. Did you think forsooth, to get any of his land into your hands-I vow the language he used then made my very hair stand on end. Or could you merely have interfered from paltry jealousy of your cousin, with whom, it is said, you had ever been on unfriendly terms-or, in short, vJhat could now' ^"rr""" "'°'^''"' ^ '°^^ him-what I tell you now^ lad-that, upon my word, your motive is a mystery to me. I added, however, that you had made a very fair-mdeed, a most extraordinarily generous-offer and that I should think him a fool-1 believe I pu^ the matter a little more respectfully, but the sense was the same-if he did not accept it. ' After a pause he calmed down, considered for a while silently, and finally desired me to send you to him without delay. So vou must wait upon him this evening, Simon " to do To "^''''^'" '^^^'^"^ ^^^ ^^°"'^"' ''^ ^^'" "°^ ^^^ " I would I knew your object," mused the lawyer as he crossed the yard again. ''It cannot be the young ady that is certain ; and, much as you and yours have Heio rn'^r'^r'^' ' '^"'^ ^'^^^ "^^- ^"^-^- ^ this '' '' '^'°"^ ^""""^^ ^°' '"^^ ^ ^^^P ^' *• It is very strong," put in Simon quietly " Then, deuce take it, this business with your cousin • you do not love him, I can see-why then interfere ? " ' You can conceive perhaps," returned the other « that I may have a sufficiently strong sense of family responsi- bihty to desire to prevent one of my own kin from bnn^ging disgrace and unhappiness into a family which YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 187 . f "Is that the explanation?" cried the lawyer, turn- ing round with a disgusted face; "upon my soul, I did no*^ think you would have been so foolish." He ciicke tis tongue against his teeth and shook his head. " Very insufficient, Simon, very insufficient ; it was evidently not from your side of the family that the young fellow Gifford took his shrewdness. Pooh ! Pooh ! A rubbishy tale, a very flimsy excuse, young man. Let me tell you," he added sternly, pausing with his foot on the step of the chaise, " I do not for one moment believe it, Simon Fleetwood." An hour later Simon was ushered into the small study or office where the Squire usually conducted matters of business. Mr. Charnock had drawn his high elbow-chair close to the table, which faced the door, and looked up as he entered. A fine man still, though his years were close upon seventy ; his features clear-cut and handsome, yet bearing the stamp of long self-indulgence. He fixed his eyes upon the young man, as he advanced into the room, with a searching and somewhat haughty gaze. *' Sit down, Mr. Fleetwood," pointing to a chair at a little distance. Simon obeyed. " Mr. Renshaw has told me of this proposal of yours. Before I consider it, however, I should like to under- stand your motive for making it." "My motive, sir," replied Simon, "chiefly concerns myself. Surely if we consider the proposal it will be sufficient." Mr. Charnock leaned back in his chair, looking at him in astonishment ; after a moment's pause he said : — " Let us first, as you suggest, examine the proposal. I confess Mr. Renshaw did not make its nature altogether clear to me." " Indeed, sir? I am surprised at that, for my instruc- ."i ,.' ( :l\ ,i i 1 i ^ i 1'' 1 i88 11 I I YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. t.ons to Mr. Renshaw were very simple. I requested h.m to announce to you my willingness to take up the mortgage refused by my cousin, on terms possibly ml advantageous to yourself." '^ " Let us hear these terms," said the Squire In his pressmg d.mculties he could not afford 'to follow h natural .mpulse, which would have been to send th presumptuous young man promptly about his busLss but ,t was agony to him to discuss his own affairs vvth one so much his inferior. His brows were stil drlwn together, and he tapped his foot lightly as Simo spoke I take ,t, Mr. Charnock, that you have at this moment great need of ^,5.000, and that the only secu ^ you can offer ,n return for the advancement of tWs large sum is a property already heavily encumbered-a property, m fact, so mismanaged that ft brings™ Ittle ''If you please, Mr, Fleetwood," interrupted the Squire ^rpr^p^n^""^""' "" ''-- *^ -nagemen^^Tf " With all apologies," returned Simon, " I must bee you to hsten to me, sir-it is, unfortunately, impo sibk to state my case without alluding to the prei'nt m'anag^ ment of your estate. You proposed, I believe to oav h"^ Z'" ^r T' '°" ^'- ^-^"^ °" "^^ -"> adva'nced'^^y" him but 1 think you must know, Mr. Charnock that it wou d be very di^cult indeed to draw this sum from an estate upon which there are already so many dLs My proposal would therefore be this : to adv" cT^ ^o Ixifford, and, in addition, to take over-with your perm,ss,on-the control of such lands as have hitherto remained ,n your hands. Your estate joins mil": I wou d work the two to^ethfr • „,,- oufi.... f- . .. . , . , „,.i. , " ' V ou^ja/ lur scocK, labour and Other such expenses could gradually be refunded,' and ill YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 189 the interest due on the mortgage could be suffered to stand over until the property was in a condition to pay it. All profits over and above — and I hope in course of time, that such profits would be considerable — would revert to you, sir." By this time Mr. Charnock had forgotten all about his dignity, and was leaning; forward, gazing intently, almost incredulously, at the yeoman. " My dear fellow," he said in an altered tone, " this is indeed an extraordinary proposal. I do not even understand it." ** I am sorry," said Simon ; " I had thought that I made my meaning clear." He thereupon repeated the offer in very nearly the same words, laying further stress on the advantages it must afford Mr. Charnock. " And do you mean to say, Simon, that you on your part would be content to derive no other benefit from this transaction than the very moderate sum you propose to charge as interest ? " "Sir," replied Fleetwood, "four per cent is a very reasonable rate of interest — the investment is a fair one. If you wish me, at some future time, to pay myself back the principal little by little out of the property at my disposal, I have no doubt it could be done. But let us be open with each other ; I want more than this. If you agree to this arrangement, you must understand that I, for my pnrt, expect you to make the same terms with me as with my cousin Gifford. Precisely the same terms," he added, looking steadily at the other. The Squire rose from his chair with an oath. " What do you mean ? " he thundered. "What I say," replied Simon, rising too and gazing at him unflinchingly. " I demand the same advantages agreed upon in my cousin's case — all the advantages — yet not quite all," he added, dropping his voice, " for I 1 1 . \n ■I If •It iff / %• lit 190 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. would have no undue favour shown to me, I would not have the shghest pressure put upon your daughter " ^^ ''How dare you, sir!" cried Mr. Charnock fiercely. How dare you, Farmer Fleetwood, bring my daughter's name mto this business ? How dare you so much as hft your eyes to her?" "Sir, I dare what my cousin has dared before me— without presumption, I may say it— less worthy than I I take this opportunity because it is the only way that IS opened to me. Hereditary prejudices cut me off from her : I seize any and every chance which can brin- me to her level." '^ " You cur," growled the Squire, "the base advantage you would take of my straits does not make you the more a gentleman. Do you think I would sell my daughter to a common farmer?" " What is this ? " cried a voice from the door, and at that moment Madam Charnock entered, her dark eyes blazing, her face pale. - What is this, Mr. Charnock p What do I hear you say ? Simon what have you come for?" "Madam," said Simon, "my love for your daughter has been no secret to you, you know how I have striven against it, and with what ill-success. Of late I resolved to strive no more— for I think that such a love must come from God ; but. situated as I am, how can it be other than hopeless if I do not take decided steps to remove tne barriers between us ? I want to meet her on equal terms, to be allowed to approach her, to take my chance of advancing in her favour— such a chance as would be given to any other man, but which has hitherto been denied to me because I am a yeoman. Now, madam, my father was a yeoman too, but my mother was a happy wife. I want, as I say, the same opportunities that would be given to any other man •rinjj me YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 191 and since they are not open to me, I have resolved, if possible, to make them. I came here to-day to propose to relieve the Squire from certain of his pressing difficulties, on condition of his consenting to receive me as a suitor for his daughter's hand." "Did you ever hear such impertinence?" cried the Squire. '* Such audacity ! What does the fellow take me for ? " The lady crossed the room slowly, her silken draperies trailing as she walked, until she stood close to Simon. " I did not think," she said reproachfully, " that you would stoop to this. I am surprised — disappointed." " I wonder, madam," said Simon, gazing at her un- flinchingly but speaking in a low voice, " that you should be surprised. I have your promise and I hold you to it." " Ah ! " she cried under her breath, and throwing up her hands in protest, " you should not take advantage of me thus — you should be too honoun.ble, too manly. I spoke wildly in my anguish and fear; you should take account of the circumstances." " I do take account of them," he returned. " When should a woman speak her mind if not in what she thinks to be her dying hour? When you deemed you had but a fevv^ moments to live, you gave your daughter into my care. The danger is past, but I have not for that become unworthy of the trust ; I have taken it up and will hold to it." "What's all this? What are you muttering there?" cried the Squire. " Does he think I will allow the wooing of our child to be a matter of sale or barter?" " Husband," said Madam Charnock, suffering her hands to drop by her side, " I fear me he knows that her name has been trafficked with already, and with one" far less deserving. But Simon," she added, again turning 'ly SI If "' ^1' ft r 192 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. reproachfully towards him, "I did not think that you would follow the same course." ** Madam," said Simon firmly, " I come to Rachel's parents in the same mood as that in which Jacob of old entered into bondage with Laban. I will serve her father for seven years and more, if he will but agree not to give her to me, for I would have her come to me of her own free will — but to give me access to her. I will work for her. I do not doubt but that in time my faithful service and my great love must win her." There was a long silence in the room. The Squire, overcome at the revelation of his wife's knowledge of the previous transaction, had no words at his disposal, while Madam Charnock contemplated the tall com- manding figure which confronted her so steadily. In its simplicity, its strength, its earnestness of purpose, it did, indeed, recall those biblical figures, which are to be revered throughout all time because so closely in touch with God, to be loved because so human. With characteristic courage and singlc-mindedness, Simon had availed himself of the plan of action originally drawn up by his cousin ; and the scheme which had seemed vile when proposed by Edward Gififord, had quite another aspect in Simon's hands. To the slime of the earth the Creator in wrath and scorn condemned the serpent, yet of this same slime He niade man to His own image and likeness. Even thus our human works — imperfect at the best— are to be judged by the spirit which actuates them. They do not stand by themselves, but bear in some measure the impress of the originator ; that which is ignoble in the hands of one man may be uplifted by another's personality into something lofty and pure. She stood silent and abashed, and Simon turned to the Squire. i:i YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ik that you to Rachel's acob of old serve her 3ut agree — :ome to me to her. I in time my er." rhe Squire, owledge of is disposal, tall com- iadily. In purpose, it h are to be ly in touch lindedness, 1 originally ivhich had ifford, had the slime ondemned lan to His nan works ' the spirit hemselves, )riginator ; m may be hing lofty turned to 193 tl "Will you entertain my proposal ? " he said quietly, though his voice trembled. " No, do not answer me now. Think it over, and give me my reply to-morrow — when you will. I am content to wait as long as it seems good to you." "Tush!" cried Mr. Charnock irritably, "the matter is one which must be decided at once. If I cannot agree to your terms, Fleetwood, I must needs raise the money somewhere else. But, d me ! I think there is a great to-do about nothing." He threw himself back in his chair with a laugh. *' Simon here, it seems, is struck with our Rachel's bonny face — well, any man might be that, be he prince or ploughman — and he begs leave to court her in due form. Pshaw I it is like a fairy tale. In fairy tales, it seems, even the beggar may hope to win the princess ; but it is not so easy in real life. As for that nonsense about Jacob and Laban, which seems to have struck you dumb, madam, the Devil himself can quote scripture, we all know that. I think the girl herself has too nice a sense of what is fitting ever to consent to receive advances from you. Yeoman Fleetwood. But since you state so roundly that you would have no pressure put upon her— since, in point of fact"— here the Squire waved his hand — " you commit me to nothing beyond the mere recognition of your position as a suitor, I am willing to meet you so far. But it must be understood "—he drew his bushy white brows together — " that I promise nothing. I encourage no hopes. When she sends you packing about your business, Simon Fleetwood, you must not blame me." " Sir," replied Simon quietly, " I place my hope in God and in my great love." " Remember," pursued the Squire, still frowning fiercely, " the girl must know nothing of this. Do you hear, madam ? You must give me your word, both of you, 13 ^11 ■■\\ ':\\ "I 194 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. n not to speak of this matter to any living soul — not even to Renshaw," he added quickly. " There is no necessity whatever for Mr. Renshaw to know anything about it," replied the young man. " For the rest, I give my word the more willingly because I would not for worlds Miss Charnock should consider herself under any obligation to me." Mr. Charnock crossed his legs, and looked critically at Simon. After a pause he said carelessly : — " Well then, we may consider the rest of the business settled, I presume ? We must have Renshaw's assistance for that. The deeds of mortgage must be drawn up at once ; and with regard to that other plan of yours, Fleetwood, about taking over the management of the Home Farm, why I have no objection to your trying. Things could not well be worse for me, and you might improve them." ** I hope," put in Madam Charnock anxiously, " that Simon, is not committing himself rashly to an under- taking which might be prejudicial to his own interests." "Trust him for that," returned her lord hastily. ** Yeoman Fleetwood is shrewd enough ; are you not, Simon ? He will look after himself. The investment is a good one, madam. Four per cent., certain, is not to be sneezed at, is it, Simon ? And for the rest, I have no doubt he will make his profit. Fleetwood is a knowing fellow — mark how things have prospered with him. Yes, yes," said the Squire, nodding and smiling quite graciously on the young man. " We may expect him to do wonders now that he has so vast a field at his disposal." Simon smiled quietly, amused at the characteristic change of manner. The Squire's spirits were now rapidly rising, and his good humour had already returned. It pleased him to assume this jocular tone and to divert YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 195 —not even Lenshaw to an. " For because I d consider I critically le business assistance drawn up of yours, 2nt of the lur trying, /■ou might sly, "that an under- interests." d hastily. you not, iistment is is not to St, I have ood is a ered with d smiling ly expect eld at his racteristic w rapidly rned. It to divert himself with the fiction that Fleetwood had done rather a neat stroke of business for himself, and that any sense of obligation or expression of gratitude on his own part would be, therefore, quite out of place. "I do not understand," said Madam Charnock dubiously. "What is this management of which you are speaking? " "Tush, my dear, of course you do not understand. Ladies never understand business matters, and should not meddle with 'em. Fleetwood is going to be my manager for a time, or shall I say my tenant? He expects to improve my property vastly, and to make quite a little fortune for himself Well, good-night, good-night ; call with Renshaw to-morrow, and we shall make final arrangements." Simon took the proffered hand, and then turned to the lady. She was still looking at him anxiously and doubtfully, but she, too, stretched out her hand. "Simon, Simon, this is a mad venture. You have staked high; what will happen if you lose?" " Madam," said Simon, bowing reverently over her hand, " I mean to win." I n #5' 196 '1 .J m ! I : ; 11 ■ • »- CHAPTER XVII. Ye little birds that sit and sing A ""1st the shady valleys, And see how Phillis sweetly walks Within her garden alleys, Go, pretty birds, about her bower, Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower. Ah me ! methinks I see her frown : Ye pretty wantons, warble. —Thomas HEVwoon. A LITTLE before noon one sunny morning, shortly after Simon's interview with the Squire, Rachel Charnock was walking briskly through one of the plantations which abutted on the park. Everything was bright and fresh and gay this April day, and Rachel, as she walked, sang to herself for pure blitheness of heart. The trees had recovered their recent severe usage by the wind, and seemed to have decked themselves afresh with tenderest green ; and the flowers beneath, laid flat by the storm, now sprang up gaily once more. The double daffodils were gone, indeed, but here were the Lent lilies, with airy wings outspread, and golden cups shining as though filled with flame ; here was the celandine, a very shower of stars ; and there were actually primroses in bud, and for£fet-me-nols in full bloom. Rachel loved the old place, with *-hat clinging, intimate fondness which is given only to r,i3 iSrst hone: the familiar outlines of tree and h -igcrov*- were to her as the features of a friend; a broken branch, an unexpected gap, each was to her a disfigurement to be lamented over; she gazed on them with a little shock of dis- YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 197 i i EYWOOn. appoin!:ment as one might mark the wrinkles in a beloved face. One may, there'ore, imagine he. surprise and indigna- tion when, on emerging from t.ic woods, she four.d tha a very great change, indeed, was about to take place in one portion of the park. A long brown line already clove the dewy green as far as her eye could reach, and travelling slowly towards her was a two-horse plough, while in the distance its double was at work. She stopped short, catching her breath ; then hurried forward with flashingeyes to inquire further intnthis unpre- cedented state of affairs. To plough up the park ! Had such a thing ever been heard of before in the annals of Charnleigh? What desecration ! What humiliation ! Had the family, indeed, sunk so low as this? Why, the Charnocks might as well be farmers at once. To have ploughed land within a stone's throw, as )ne might say, of the windows of the Hall ; to permit tht gardens and shrubberies, so carefully laid out, to opt n on such a prospect as a field of turnips or potatoes ! H was not to be borne ; her father must certainly be unaw re of it, else the cheerfulness which had been restored to iiim during the last few days would assuredly have taken wing once more. The stupid old steward had evidently made some grievous blunder, and it behoved Rachel t(= see that the mistake was rectified without delay. While these thoughts wereflitting through her brain, she was hastening with all speed in the direction of tl. ■ nearest ploughman ; and as soon as she was within earshot she raised her voice peremptorily, " Stop ! stop ! " The man stared but continued to advance ; and it was not until she had repeatedly admonisherl hi i that, uttering the monosyllable " Haw ! " in a stentoriai voice, he brought his horses to a standstill. To Rache s sur- prise the face, which the old fellow turned upon her, was ■mm- ■ ^ 198 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. perfectly unknown to her : it belonged, indeed, to no less a person than Bill Lupton, Simon Pleetwood's head-man. " What are you doing?" cried Rachel breathlessly. Bill first pointed with his horny forefinger at the furrow in front of him, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder. •' We're agate o' ploughing up this here bit o' land," he replied mildly. Rachel flushed with anger. That Charnleigh Park, the object of reverence not only to herself, but to all the country round, should be stigmatised as " a bit o' land ! " She positively stamped her foot as she returned : '* Nay, but such a thing is not to be thought of There must be some mistake. Who are you, to begin with ? I do not know your face. Who told you to come here with your plough?" Bill gazed at her, momentarily overpowered by the torrent of questions ; then he took off his battered hat, scratched his head thoughtfully, and put it on again. Finally he decided to answer the last query, seeing that it bore the most directly on the point. " Why, my mester towd me." " Do you mean that the Squire knows what you are about?" "Naw, I never heerd nought about Squire. 'Twere our mester as towd me to coom." "You are raving, man ! " cried Rachel, tapping her foot again. •* What do you mean by your master? Who is your master? " Bill gave a toothless grin of derision at her ignorance. " Eh ! my mester's wan most folks know pretty well. My mester's Fleetwood o' th' Farm." "Oh, indeed !" said the girl in an altered tone. She paused for a moment, but continued with renewed ex- asperation, " And what business, may I ask, has Yeoman YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 199 Fleetwood to give orders at Charnleigh? You make some great mistake, my man. Mr. Fleetwood doubtless intended you to set to work on some of his own land." " Nay, nay," returned Bill, shaking his head with a kind of contemptuous compassion. " Our mester's none o' th' kind as 'ud leave their own ploughing to this time o' day. Why, we are half-way through Aperl. * Yigh ' he says hissel', ' 'tis late enough — too late to get agate o' this here job. But,' says he, * we mun do th' best we can. The ground 'uU be ready for autumn as how it is, and we'll get the taters in early.' Yigh, that were what he said. He coom here this morn and marked out the bit we was to turn up, me and Jock, and says he, ' Get agate now as soon as ever you can '." " But I do not understand," exclaimed Rachel, more and more exasperated. " Did the Squire give leave, I say ? Does my father know of this monstrous piece of work ? " " Nay, I know nought about the Squire," repeated Bill placidly. " My orders is fro' my mester — I dunnot tak' no orders fro' nobry nobbut him. I reckon he's gaffer here now." The girl's eyes positively blazed, but with a great effort she managed to contain her wrath. " We shall see about that," she said coldly. " I will report the matter to Mr. Charnock, and meanwhile you must not continue this business until he authorises you." By this time the other plough had reached the limit marked out for it, turned, and come slowly down the field again, being now about twenty paces away. Its progress was marked by a thin brown strip parallel to that already traced by Bill. The last-mentioned old man, after gazing at Rachel for a moment or two in perplexity, turned towards his comrade, put his hand over his mouth and called to him lustily to "hold on a ill* m ^■ r c -.-=?, muj iiwsHWfjOTMlM 1 1 ^ ) 200 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. bit ". Jock obeyed, and, leaning on the handle of his plough, looked round inquiringly. " What's to do ? " he shouted. " Young lady says we mun give ower," returned Bill. Jock took off his hat, scratched his head as his partner had done, and looked up at the sky for inspiration. None coming, however, he dallied with the puzzle instead of finding an answer to it. " WAo says we mun give ower?" "Why this here young lady— Mistress Charnock, I believe 'tis." Here Bill gave a deprecating pull at his ragged grey forelock. Once more Jock gazed heavenwards for direction; then he looked at Bill. " Well, owd lad, our mester, thou knows, our mester said we was to get th' job done. That were what our mester said. ' Get agate, lads,' says he— didn't he, Bill ? " " Ah ! " said Bill, " them was the very words he said Jock." Both men looked at Rachel, and then Jock prepared to move on. "Stop!" cried Rachel imperiously. "I will not allow it, I tell you ; I will not have the place ruined without my f^ither's consent. Wait here at least until I fetch him. I am certain he knows nothing about it." Bill looked at Jock, and Jock looked once more at the sky. At the third trial inspiration did actually come, for, on bringing his eyes down once more to the level of his fellow-labourer's, he remarked briskly: "Well, 'tis just upon dinner-time, as how 'tis. I dunnot reckon as th' gaffer made no mistake, but we met as well make sure on't. Let's goo we're ways awhoam now, mon, and him." (( Yigh, we met do that," agreed Bill. "I see nought YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 201 ndle of his urned Bill, his partner nspiration. he puzzle harnock, I Lgged grey direction ; n ester said )ur mester 11?" Is he said, prepared will not .ce ruined ast until I )ut it." ore at the lly come^ e level of Well, 'tis reckon as /ell make mon, and je nought agin it, and it wunnot waste no time ; for we mun get awhoam for we're mate, as how 'tis." With many objurgations the great sleek horses were unfastened from the ploughs and led away, the brass mounting of the harness gleaming in the sun, and the chains clanking, across the park towards the village. The ploughs, however, remained, each midway in its own furrow ; testifying, as Rachel thought in bitterness of spirit, to the ignominy which had come upon her ancestral lands. Her heart seemed to burn within her as she hastened homewards, and her eyes filled with angry tears. There must be a mistake, surely ; and yet the old labourers both seemed convinced of their right to carry out the task. What was it the man had said ? " I reckon our mester's gaffer here now." Yeoman Fleetwood master at Charnleigh ! Impossible! Nevertheless, the announcement had been made with assurance, and a dim foreboding began to take possession of the girl. She knew her father was in difficulties — were things so bad as this ? For the moment her feeling towards Simon was something closely akin to hatred. She found Mr. Charnock in his study, perusing the Morning Post with evident good humour and satisfaction. " Father," she cried, going up to him eagerly, and speaking in trembling tones, "Father, do you know they are ploughing up the park?" Mr. Charnock removed his eye-glasses and looked up in evident displeasure. '• My dear Rachel," he cried testily, " I wish you would not burst in on one like that — it is most un- becoming in a young woman of your years. They are ploughing up the park, do you say? Let 'em plough it up, if they like — I daresay the park wants ploughing ? " 11 202 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 1 .1 " But, sir," pleaded the girl, tears of mortification now standing on her cheeks, " surely it is not by your wish that the place is thus disfigured ? I believe it was not done by your orders." " Never mind whose orders they were. If it has got to be done it must be done— that is all." " Pray forgive me, Father, if I seem importunate ! But, indeed, sir, I should like to know if it be true that Simon Fleetwood is master here now?" "Simon Fleetwood master!" repeated the Squire, now thoroughly roused, and speaking in an altered tone. " Master? Certainly not ! Nothing of the kind. What put such a preposterous idea into your head girl ? " ' " Why, sir, there are two strange labourers there with a plough, and they have already made two furrows across the park— the furrows look vastly ill, I can assure you— and, when I inquired their authority for such a pro- ceeding, they informed me that they had received orders from Mr. Fleetwood. And one of them remarked that he thought Fleetwood was master here, now." " Pooh ! Nonsense ! You should not talk to such people, Rachel," returned the Squire, sinking back into his chair. " Fleetwood has taken over the Home Farm, and, m fact, the management of the estate for the present. I am not just now equal to looking into affairs for myself — therefore, I have come to an arrangement with him." " Have you let the park to him then, sir? Do you mean that he is your tenant ? Or am I to understand that he is now your steward ? And what is to become of Woodham ? " " Why, what a plague ! You weary me with these questions, child. 'Tis nothing to you under what capa- city Simon appears on the premises. It's enough for you to know that I am fully aware of what is going on, and YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 203 can manage my own business. Now, go to Mamma, and do not let me hear of your interfering in my affairs again." Rachel withdrew, much crestfallen. She betook herself to her mother's dressing-room in a very bad humour, and seated herself opposite to her without speaking. "Well, my dear child," inquired Madam Charnock, glancing at her from ove; the edge of her embroidery frame, " what is amiss ? This is April weather, truly ! When you parted from me all was sunshine, and now I see the clouds have come." Rachel's brow did not clear, however. " I cannot help feeling gloomy, ma'am," she replied. " You see it is naturally painful and humiliating to me to discover we have come down in the world." " Indeed?" said her mother, pausing with uplifted needle. " And when did you make that discovery, my dear?" " Why, madam, I have just been informed, first by two sturdy, rough-tongued old ploughmen, and after- wards by my father himself that Simon Fleetwood com- mands here now." *' And does that displease you very much ? " " Why, Mamma, of course it does. How can I be otherwise than mortified on realising such altered cir- cumstances ? We Charnocks are to submit in silence while Yeoman Fleetwood commands ! It is a most painful and ridiculous situation. I cannot help thinking he must have taken advantage of my father's straits to have thus obtained control of his affairs." " No, Rachel, you are unjust to Simon." Mrs. Charnock pushed aside her frame and leaned forward, speaking earnestly. " You are unjust, I say. If Simon has undertaken this trust it is from motives which you should be the first to honour." She broke i «': Mr t:. i?'4l r. ..iff 212 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. and my mother will be wanting me. Good-day, Mr. Fleetwood — come no farther, pray. I should be loth to take up your time." As she recrossed the stile, she feigned not to see his proffered hand, but from under her eyelashes she took note of the renewed disappointment in his face. She uttered no further word, however, and made her way home with all speed. 213 CHAPTER XIX. Whose latest and most leaden hours Fall with soft wings stuck with soft flowers ; And when life's sweet fable ends, Soul and body part like friends. -Crashaw. Rachel pondered a good deal over Simon's demeanour, and, though his admiration was not distasteful to her, she came to the conclusion that the young man must needs be kept at a greater distance. This decision of hers caused her a certain regret, for she really liked Fleetwood ; and, as she reflected, with a sigh that was not all of compassion for Simon, it would cost her no small effort to repel advances at once so earnest and so delicate. She soon found, however, that she was not to be called upon to put these doubty resolutions into effect ; for Simon made no further advances. They met frequently, Fleetwood's avocations necessarily causing him to spend much of his day at Charnleigh ; and she invariably found him kind, good-humoured, eager to anticipate the wishes she was sometimes condescending enough to express, but with apparently no desire to meet her on any other footing than that of mere friend- ship. On one occasion, indeed, he ventured to step beyond his self-imposed limits, and Rachel, who had been secretly slightly chagrined at his previous attitude, was, nevertheless, inconsequent enough to repel his over- tures with equal coldness and promptitude. It happened to be a lovely summer's day, and Rachel, who had been 214 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. walking with her mother when they encountered him, had lingered behind a few paces to comment upon the fact to Simon. " It is indeed a most perfect day," he replied. " I wish you could see my garden now. Miss Charnock. The rose-trees are weighed down with blossom, and as for the strawberries — I verily believe there is more fruit than leaves. I wonder whether you and Madam Char- nock would care to taste them. We have a little arbour yonder where you could sit at ease, and my aunt would be proud to entertain you. I would pick the fruit for you, and she would contribute her best cream." And thereupon Rachel, for what reason she never afterwards knew, had thrown back her head and averted her eyes, and replied, distantly, that she did not care for strawberries. Then Simon had raised his hat and bowed, and fallen back to join the workmen he was superintending. Nevertheless when, as autumn advanced, Miss Belinda was taken suddenly and grievously ill, Rachel was among the first to hasten to the Farm with kind inquiries and sincere sympathy. Poor Aunt Binney, despite her seventy-five years, had ever been so hale and hearty that no one was more surprised then herself when it presently became evident that she must prepare v/ith all speed to betake herself to a better world. " Doctor says 'tis a break-up," she remarked to Simon one day with a puzzled air. " Eh, dear! I never reckoned to go all of a sudden that gate. I alius reckoned as break-ups come gradual like. This here 'titus is awful when it gets a real hold on ye — I don't seem no ways able to shake it off. But if I am to go — and the Lord's will be done — I'd as soon it were the 'titus as aught else, Simon. 'Tis a very decent complaint. Mrs. Charnock— Squire's first missis, you know — well, she died o' th' YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 215 itered him, tit upon the :plied. " I Charnock. om, and as 5 more fruit dam Char- ittle arbour aunt would he fruit for m." she never ind averted id not care lis hat and en he was .iss Belinda was among quiries and lespite her and hearty ilf when it are v/ith all d to Simon 2r reckoned ickoned as us is awful m no ways the Lord's aught else, Jharnock — died o' th' 'titus. And Mr. Renshaw's father were carried off by it too. 'Tis a deal be ter nor a stroke, or a bad leg or that, and gives a lot less trouble." " I am sure nobody would mind the trouble, Aunt Binney," said Simon, " if there were any hope that you could get well." A paroxysm of coughing prevented Miss Belinda's comment on this affectionate statement ; but, by-and- bye, gazing at him somewhat mournfully with her head on one side, she observed feelingly : — " Ye'll be like to miss me, lad— I know that well. Aye, 'twill be terrible lonesome for ye, when I'm gone. As long as Susan lives ye'll manage right enough, but eh, dear 1 whatever 'uU ye do when she goes— and she's nigh on seventy now, Susan is. But we must leave all to the Almighty. Happen ye'll not live so long yersel', Nephew. Eh I many a time I think what wi' riding they young horses, and walking about among bulls and sich like, 'tis a mercy ye've been spared till now. I shouldn't wonder, Simon, if ye followed me before aught was long." This cheerful prognostication seemed to revive her spirits considerably ; her wrinkled face wreathed itself with smiles. '• There's one thing, Nephew, I'd like to settle while I've my senses right. I'd been thinking, Simon, of making a new will. But before I get agate at it, I'd like to have a word wi' Miss Charnock. Ye see, lad, I reckon to leave her a little legacy— Cousin Pringle 'ull have the most of what I have to leave — she's always looked for it, poor soul, and named the oldest lass after me an' all, an' I'd be loth to disappoint her. 'Tisn't as if you wanted for aught— -my little bit o' money 'ud be no loss to you, Simon, and I know you've never counted on't." Simon hastened to assure the good old lady of his 4 i if f i •flil i\' - - — ^"itl ^3 2l6 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. entire concurrence in her scheme for leaving her money in a lump to Cousin Pringle, but expressed some curiosity as to the nature of the legacy she meant to bequeath to Miss Charnock. " Eh ! 'tis naught of any consequence—nobHut my recipe book. I know she's one as 'ull valley it— and she has a taste, mind ye, Nephew— wonderful taste for such-like. Eh ! I reckon she'll be fain to have these old recipes. There's not the like to be found i' th' country now. The Christmas pudden is there, and orange cordial and damson cheese ; then there's a many recipes for possets, and such-like. I reckon she'll be fain to have it— 'tis all wrote out fair by my mother hersel'— and I'd be fain to think as Miss Charnock's name was in my will, ril reckon she'll not think it a liberty, but I'll ask her before Mr. Renshawsets it down. She sent me word she'd step up to see me this afternoon. You might ask Lawyer Renshaw to call to-morrow morn, Nephew, and we's get the matter settled." The poor old lady had well-nigh exhausted herself with so much talking, but, nevertheless, when Rachel came to see her she had a very important announcement to make, besides discussing the proposed legacy. " Though I say it as shouldn't," she began, " our Simon is a good lad. That quiet to live wi', that easy tem- pered ! You might set what you like before him to eat and he'd never complain ; there's never a word out of him, bless him ! Aye, me an' him has lived together as happy as layrocks." Rachel, with downcast eyes, remarked that Simon was, indeed, very good, and ^hat he appeared to be much concerned at his aunt's illness. "He ^is that," agreed Miss Belinda, comfortably. " Dear o' me, v/hatever he'll do without mc I'm sure I can't think." ^!M. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 217 i m sure 1 " Perhaps he'll marry ? " suggested the girl, with her eyes still fixed on Aunt Binney's patchwork quilt. " Well, I don't know, I'm sure, miss ; I think some- how if Simon had reckoned to wed, he'd ha' done it before now. Says I to him last night — we was talking about funerals and that— says I, 'Simon,' I said, 'ye're terrible staid in your ways. God knows if you'll ever cret wed.' And he says, looking at me so earnest — * God knows, indeed, Aunt,' he says ; * God knows " You should have told him that he ought of course to marry now," cried Miss Charnock, with heightened colour. " .Simon never was one to make much count o' women folk," leturned Miss Fleetwood. " I often wondered he I wasn't snapped up afore this— he'd make a good husband — he's been a good son and a good nephew. Is yon door quite shut, Miss Charnock? " " Quite," returned the girl, with a glance towards it. " Then I'll tell you a bit of a secret. Simon's behaved wonderful handsome to me about my buryin'. I says to him : ' Nephew,' I said, ' I would like to have a nice buryin' '. And he towd me he'd see I had one. Well, you see. Miss Charnock, I have a wonderful fancy to be buried with a hearse. Folks about here never has aught but walking funerals, but, when Pringle died— that's Cousin Pringle's husband — he had a hearse fro' Liverpool and a mourning coach, and there were black feathers to th' horses' heads, and at four corners o' th' hearse— eh ! they looked real well ; gradely they did. Still, as I said to Simon, I'm the last o' th' Fleetwood females— •without you get wed,' says I, * and have a daughter of your own '. (That was the time I told him that I didn't think it likely he'd wed, and he says, ' God only knows '.) ' So, says I, ' I would really like to have a proper funeral. I'd like,' I says, 'a hearse with white feathers— black ; »li 'J I ■'if« 2l8 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ones is for married folk, my Cousin Pringle says, and, thanks be to God, I never had a husband ; and I'd like a coach for yourself, Simon, and another coach for Susan and Dolly and Bill— how much would that come to, d'ye think?' says I. And he told me not to mind what it coom to, he'd see as I had whatever I fancied. Well, then, I said if it came too expensive, I'd give o'er thinking on it, 'for I don't want,' I says, 'to cut too much off fro' Cousin Pringle^s legacy'. ' Don't trouble about that. Aunt Binney.' says he, 'you shall have whatever you wish for, and I'll pay for it. 'Tis the least I may do,' he says, ' after you keepin' house for me so long.' Now warn't that handsome o' him ? " Rachel had listened with an extraordinary mixture of feelings to the old woman's story, as it was laboriously and brokenly poured forth. Full of young warm life herself, she shrank from the grisly details which Miss Fleetwood enumerated with such keen satisfaction. It was pathetic to hear the poor old body so calmly dis- cussing the ceremonial in which she was indeed to bear a prominent part, but which she would not then be in a condition to enjoy ; but there was also an element of the grotesque, not to say the comic, in such zest. She found herself absolutely unable to frame any reply which should seem adequate to the occasion, and con- tented herself with patting Aunt Binney's wrinkled hand, as it lay outside the coverlet. " There'll be the hearse," went on the sick woman, following out the train of thought, "and two coaches- mourning coaches ; and very like Lawyer Renshaw 'ull come in's gig. That 'ull be four carriages altogether —eh! all the neighbours 'ull think it gradely ! Four carriages ! " " Perhaps my father would allow his coach to attend," put in Rachel, anxious to atone for her former shrink- *;(i!iiil YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 219 ing reluctance to pursue the topic by making a sugges- tion \vhic^> could not fail to be pleasing. " I think it exceedingly likely that he would allow his coach to follow, as a mark of respect. I know he has done so once or twice when he has been unable to attend funerals himself" " Eh, dear ! " ejaculated Miss Binney, and clapped her withered hands. " Eh ! miss, I'd never make so bold as to ask for such a thing, but if he did, I'd have nothing left to wish for. Squire's coach to follow my remains 1 That 'ud make five altogether. Why, there has not been such a sight in Charnleigh village, not since th' old Squire died, and was sent home from London to be buried. Miss, dear, I would take it as an honour. Well, what with Squire's coach coming to my funeral, and you being so good. Miss Charnock, as to allow me to mention you in my will, I may, indeed, look to die respected. Yon's the book there, see, in the window-seat, Miss Charnock. Cast your eye over it now, if you've a fancy to, and Lawyer Renshaw 'ull make it over to you when I am gone." Rachel, eager to change the subject, crossed the room, and took up the quaint book with its superfluity of injunctions and minuteness of detail. Miss Belinda's mother's spelling had not been on a par with her house- wifely knowledge, and Rachel smiled to herself over sundry items. Under the heading " Damsel Cheese " —the late Mrs. Fleetwood having given the same title to the fruit in question as Rachel's foreign mother had done — particular stress was laid on the fact that the "damsels must not be broozed," while the receipt for "Suking Pig " gave such a variety of directions regard- ing the manner of demise of the animal m question that Rachel hastily turned over the page. She left Miss Belinda in no small degree exhausted, ; J t ii' '■* 3*^ t |i pj'- 1 i^ 1 m'-.l ]' m 220 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. but thoroughly happy and complacent ; and the will was drawn up next day to the complete satisfaction of the testator, Rachel came several times to the house during the ensuing days, and even accompanied her mother when after poor Miss Belinda's death, her earthly remains were duly laid out with all prescribed ceremonial. It was the first time she had been brought face to face with death, and she looked pale and scared as she followed Madam Charnock up the old oak stairs. But, despite her shrinking, she would not turn back, and, indeed, there wa. nothing alarming about the placid old face that lay smiling on the pillow, or the poor form that looked so small and shrunken now. Susan and Dolly were in the room, red-eyed and shaken with sobs, but nevertheless, distinctly flattered and consoled by the honour Madam Charnock was doing their former mistress by visiting all that was left of her. As the ladies quitted he house, Simon met them in the hall, and thanked them, not only for calling then, but for their many kindnesses to his aunt during her illness. Mrs. Charnock uttered some words of heartfelt sympathy, and Rachel lingered a moment behind her mother to say, with a wistful upward glance at the yeoman's grave and sorrowful face, -You will be very lonely now, poor Simon ". •' I shall indeed," said he; "very lonely." the will was ction of the 221 during the other when, ily remains monial. It to face with he followed But, despite nd, indeed, id old face ■ form that and Dolly I sobs, but, ed by the ler mistress :hem in the len, but for ness. Mrs. pathy, and o say, with grave and now, poor CHAPTER XX. With tranquil step, and timid downcast glance, Behold the well-paired couple now advance, In such sweet posture our first parents moved, While, hand in hand, through Eden's bowers they roved. Ere yet the Devil, with promise fine and false, Turned their poor heads, and taught them how to waltz. —Sheridan. Miss Belinda's funeral was all that she could have wished in her most sanguine moments. Simon spared no expense in carrying out the plan she had laid down, though the pomp, and ceremonial, and artificiality of this simulated mourning were repulsive to him, in his own genuine grief. He would have liked to have followed a simple coffin on foot and in the company of the few who had known and loved the good old lady ; but, nevertheless, was determined on keeping his promise to the very letter. So coal-black horses, with phenomenally long manes and tails, stamped in the courtyard of the Farm, and plumes waved, and scarves and hatbands and black gloves were duly served out, and Susan, Dolly, and Bill sat in state in one of the coaches, in blissful melancholy— if such a combination be possible— and conscious that their own equipage, as containing members of the household, took precedence even of the Squire's carriage. For Mr. Charnock had made no demur when his daughter for- mulated her request, and was, indeed, tickled at the poor old lady's anxiety for the honour, and perhaps not ill-pleased at the opportunity for proving to his humbler !■ - ' ji - 'T ;'l Hs, 'ii 222 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. neighbours what a kind-hearted and condescending gentleman he was. And poor Simon sate aione as chief mourner in his own gloomy vehicle, and thought very sadly of the old times that would never come agliin, and of how now the last link with the past was broken. ' The autumn wore away, and the winter came, and Simon's life flowed on uneventfully enough. Madam Charnock lost no opportunity of showing him kindness, and Simon was even permitted to join the family circle occasionally, and to play a game of ^.icquet after dinner with the Squire. Rachel too was uniformly gracious now, and showed a consideration for the young yeoman in his trouble which went straight to his heart. But nevertheless, he took no advantdge of this altered de- meanour ; and "Tis compassion," he said to himself, " 'tis but her blessed pity— God reward her for it ! I will not build on it too much ; I will wait and work and hope, and by-and-bye she may turn to me." But with the first dawn of spring Rachel made an announcement which alike surprised and grieved him. " Do you know, Simon, that I have been asked to pay a visit to my Uncle and Aunt Charnock in town ? My father says that I am to see the world. I am to be presented, and to go out into society. What think you of this prospect, Mr. Fleetwood ? " Simon had been standing in the sheep-field, watching a somewhat sickly lamb stagger about on uncertain little legs ; he continued to gaze at it for some moments before turning his eyes towards Miss Charnock. "What think I, madam ? Why, that we, left behind at Charnleigh, will miss you very much." " Ah I but that is selfish," responded Rachel. " Here am I, near]}' eighteen, and 1 have as yet seen nothing of life. Save for my schooling abroad, a my visit to my I YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 233 m grandmother, I have been brought up like any village girl. You ought to be glad for my sake that this oppor- tunity ofifers." " If it makes you happy, I shall of course try to be glad," said Simon. "Why, of course it makes me happy. I shall dance, and go to the play, and make new friends ; and when I return I shall be so brightened up and improved that you will not know me." Simon smiled a little sadly. " God forbid that you should change, Miss Charnock," he said. "Well, one thing is certain," pursued the girl ; "you will never change, Simon. When I come back I shall find you here wandering about the fields, looking round you with that contemplative gaze of yours, just the same as ever, shall I not ? " ■'Just the same," agreed he ; and then, stepping away from her, caught up tlie little lamb, whose feeble limbs had given way beneath it. " I must carry this creature home," said he ; "it wants warmth and special attention." " And do you not wish me joy, Simon ?" " With all my heart," returned he, but with so troubled a look that Rachel carried away the memory of it. In- deed, for many a day after, the image rose before her of Simon's face with the beclouded eyes, as he stood gazing after her and holding the little lamb in his arms. In a few days she departed, duly escorted by maid and footman ; Mr. and Mrs. Charnock remained behind ; for, despite a nominal reconciliation, the Squire and his brother were not really on friendly terms. Mr. John Ciiarnock had refused to come to his senior's aid in cutting off the entail on any portion of the estate, though, as the Squire frequently asserted, he would never miss the loss of a field or two when he succeeded, If 224 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. J ir and the ready money would have made all the difference to himself. Nevertheless, both John Charnock and his wife were fond of Rachel and determined, as they said, to give her a chance. Being less extravagant than his brother, the Squire, the younger Mr. Charnock was able to keep up a nice house in town ; he and his wife moved in very good society, and Rachel could, in consequence, make her {/e^dui with due pomp and every prospect of success. Despite his small liking for his brother, the Squire had shown himself eager for the acceptance of the in- vitation ; he was desirous that his daughter should have every advantage becoming to her station, and, moreover, entertained hopes that, during her absence, she might come across some young gentleman of fortune and posi- tion to whom she might form an attachment. He was quite ready to take Simon's money and avail himself of his help ; and, moreover, tolerated his occasional presence in the house. Fleetwood was a good, quiet fellow, who spoke sensibly and never obtruded his opinions, and he played a capital game of picquet, though not quite so good a game as the Squire him- self, who, in consequence, liked him the better; but as to his daring to aspire to Rachel, the notion was too preposterous to be contemplated. He had talked a good deal of nonsense about it to begin with, but had evidently come to his senses of late— any one could see he was not thinking of paying attention to the girl — and now, even if she did not secure a husband and establishment yonder, she would at least make the acquaintance of a dozen smart young beaux who would quite throw poor, plodding Simon in the shade " Egad, madam," cried Mr. Charnock, banging on the tabic with his fist when his wife demurred, "the girl shall go, if only for that. By George, we know YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 225 what girls are. Simon is the only young man she sees much of just now, and there is no knowing what folly may come into her head if left to herself. But let her see the world, madam, let her see tliC world, and I'll warrant you Master Simon will be forgot quick enough." Mrs. Charnock was too well accustomed to her hus- band's inconsequence to point out the contradictoriness of his recent statements, and, with many forebodings, set about preparations for her daughter's journey. Her bird was to leave the nest, to escape from under her wing, and to fly out into the great world ; how would it fare with her there ? Rachel wrote home frequently, and each letter bore a rapturous postscript in the hand of her Aunt Charnock. The dear girl was so much admired, so lovely, so witty, so graceful. People predicted that she would be the reigning toast of the season, and already the young bucks were fighting for her hand at the dance. His Royal Highness had particularly noticed her, and the great Mr. Brummel had got hln^ 'If introduced at her first ball. This, Mrs. John Ch jock needed not to assure her sister-in-law, was a very great honour indeed, and no one kn hat it might lead to ; for 1. was well known that .. .,ord of commendation from the celebrated beau was sufficient in itself to make a debutante all the rage. When all the land lay golden in the summer warmth she returned, and Simon first caught sight of her as she walked up the path to the church one brilliant Sunday morning. She wore a hat of strange shape, and her blooming face was partly concealed by a lace veil very tantalising to the beholder. It seemed to Simon that she had grown taller, but this fancy of his was perhaps due to the fact that she held herself more erect, and IS -s-#i '■"li'fSf IT* I : " ■■'Mi' HI'W I { 1 "It- |„, 1 226 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. carried her head with a more imperial grace. Poor Simon ! it would scarce be fair to reveal how much her presence disturbed his devotion, nor how often his usually pious mind wandered that Sunday morning. Yet he had seldom repeated with greater fervour the prayer which so often rose to his lips: "God give her to me," though it might be that there was less of confidence in this petition than of old. Rachel was very devout and demure, and did not so much as turn her eyes once in his direction ; and Simon was too shy, and perhaps too proud, to linger near the porch when the congregation poured out, but donned his hat and went home without glancing to right or to left. The next day, however, as he was wending his way towards a certain wheat-field which formed part of the Charnleigh Home Farm, he came face to face with Rachel. She was dressed simply in white, and her broad straw hat was slung by its ribbons over her arm ; had it not been that her hair was dressed in a fanciful fashion which became her marvellously well, and that her beauty had developed and ripened— so that lovely as she had been before she was to Simon's dazzled gaze ten times more beautiful now — he would have said that she looked like her old self. She paused amid the sunlit green and stretched out both hands. " I vow you are the very man I wanted to see," she cried. ** Pray, were you coming to call on me, Simon ?" " Nay," he returned, " I would not venture to intrude so soon. I was on my way to inspect the wheat-field yonder." *• As I foretold," cried Rachel, "you have not changed at all. I left you wandering about the fields, placid and contemplative ; and I return to find you the same. Oh, I could find it in my heart to envy you." She spoke petulantly, yet with an undercurrent of real emotion. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 22/ rent of real "Simon," she pursued after a moment, " could you not leave the wheat-field for a little while and turn your thoughts to me ? I would be glad to speak to you," " Could I not, indeed ! " cried Simon ; and Rachel, looking up, saw his face brighten and glow, but, feigning to observe nothing, fell to plucking the leaves from the hedge near which they stood, in apparent absence of mind. " As to turning my thoughts to you," he went on, breathlessly and tremulously, " you know very well, Miss Charnock, that it will require no very great effort on my part to do that, for they are seldom absent from you." " So much the better," answered she. " And now, Mr. Fleetwood, let us find a comfortable spot and sit down. I have a weighty matter to discuss with you, and if you do not grudge me the time — well then — " answering the protest in his eyes — " since I know very well you do not grudge me the time, Simon, let us consider it at our ease." They sat down beneath a great tree, and Rachel, instead of speaking, twined her fingers in the grass beside her, and plucked the blades and threw them away. Simon's heart beat so loud and fast that he fancied she must hear it. Perhaps she did ; at all events she must have taken count of the agitation which he could not conceal. At last, clasping her hands together on her lap, she turned towards him ; her face was grave, and paler than it had been a little time before. " Do you remember, Simon," she said, " something you said to me one day —something I laughed at then and pretended not to care about, but which I took note of?" " I remember, madam," said Simon, " every word that I have ever spoken to you, and every word that you have ever said to me." !* . 'I'l h fe t I, I?! I ".I 'I m m 228 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I- She laughed a httle unsteadily. "What, all my foolish speeches? Ah, what a terrible memory! But I am glad all the same. Well, then, Mr. Fleetwood, you will doubtless remember having once assured me that you would help me if ever I stood in need of help." " I remember it well," said Simon in that curious vibrating voice of his which told Rachel more plainly than words all that he was with such difficulty keeping back. " You told me then," she went on, " that you would willingly undertake for me any service, however difficult or dangerous ; well, I have need of such service now. As to danger, there may be little of that ; yet there is certainly difficulty, and I_I_vvell, Mr. Fleetwood, I am in a dilemma, and I want you to help me out of it if you can. You must hear what I have to say, and then tell me if you can." " Madam, you shall tell me," cried Simon. " But first be assured that if your difficulty be such as man can help you out of I both can and will." " Now, do not be rash," cried Rachel, holding up a warning forefinger. " ' The blind cannot lead the blind,' remember. Well, how shall I begin ? Mr. Fleetwood, have you ever heard of the new dance which is just now in vogue ? I believe it originally came from Austria. It is called the waltz." Simon, who had been prepared for some very tragic disclosure, was somewhat taken aback by this apparent trifling, and shook his head in reply with a gravely perplexed air. •' Well, I must describe it to you, or you will not understand my story. It is very much the fashion, you must know. You do not take your partner's hand, but —but—well, the gentleman puts his right arm round the lady's waist, and she puts her left hand on his shoulder t YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 229 and her right arm round him, so that it rests on his left hip. I don't know if you understand ? " Simon's questioning expression might well have given rise to doubt. " A little time ago," pursued Rachel hastily, " it used to be danced with a handkerchief, which was passed round the lady, and the two ends of which were held by the gentleman, while her hands rested lightly on his shoulders ; but that mode has gone out now. When the partners are in position they twirl and twirl and twirl to the sound of the most intoxicating music ; and that is a waltz, Simon ; and you need not look so scandalised, because I have never danced it, and I do not mean to if I can help it." The yeoman drew a long breath of relief ; but even yet his cheeks were crimson, and he could scarce bring himself to look Rachel in the face. Her flippant tone in describing a performance which, as it seemed to his unsophisticated mind, no modest woman ought even to !:i';e witnessed, had grated on him extremely; and it vvcis anguish to him to think of the surroundings in which she had recently found herself " But thereby hangs a tale," she continued. " I do not dance the waltz, Mr. Fleetwood, though many call my repugnance affected and prudish. I am sure I am continually pestered by the gentlemen who want to be my partners. There is one in particular — a very fashion- able personage, a friend of Mr. Brummel's and a leader of the ton — who simply worries me to death about it. His name is Sir Walter Brooke, and he is considered vastly important in his own set. He entertains me much ; and Cousin Humphrey is furiously jealous of him." " Is your Cousin Humphrey then ? " began Simon, who had been listening with a grave and mystified air at Rachel's somewhat disjointed confidences. i i H ■JL 230 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Yes, Mr. Fleetwood," she broke in before he could finish the sentence, " my Cousin Humphrey plagues me vastly, if that is what you mean, and I plague him too. He has no right to consider himself my mentor. Well, he is, as I say, furiously jealous, and one day chancing to stand by while Sir Walter was lamenting my cruelty in refusing to dance the waltz with him, he put on so gloomy and disagreeable a face that I could not forbear teasing him. So I explained very graciously to Sir Walter that my objection was not to the partner but to the dance ; that I was a countrified damsel and had not yet been educated according to the notions of town-bred folk ; but that, for aught that any one knew, in time I might learn to adapt myself Rapture of Sir Walter- rage of my cousin ! As for me I was all artless innocence." Simon made a little abrupt movement at which Rachel, who had been laughing, suddenly composed her features and went on hurriedly : — " Humphrey took me by the arm, and, pretendingly that his mother wanted me, drew me on one side^ His face was fierce enough to frighten one. but I am not easily cowed. ' I forbid you, miss,' he whispered in my ear as soon as we were at a safe distance, ' I forbid you to dance the waltz with that fellow.' • Why, then,' said I, 'just to prove to you, Master Humphrey, that you have no right to forbid me anything, I will promise to dance it with him at the very first oppor- tunity.' He walked off, looking like a thunder-cloud. Sir Walter took me in to supper, and once more eagerly pressed the point, urging me to dance the first waltz with him at the ball at Devonshire House. This, being mindful of my cousin and anxious to triumph over him, I accord- ingly promised to do, and thereupon Sir Walter, who looked flushed and excited, drew a note-book from his pocket : ' We know,' quoth he, ' that ladies are privileged YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 231 to change their minds, and I would not have you change yours. Let rne petition for one more proof of condescen- sion, Miss Charnock. You will earn my undying grati- tude if you will give me your promise in writing " But you did not? " interrupted Simon, bending for- ward eagerly. " Indeed, I did," returned Rachel ruefully, " and I have never ceased to repent it ; for only think, Mr. Fleetwood ! That wretch, Sir Walter, has made me the subject of a wager. Yes, truly ; it is the talk of the clubs, Humphrey says — so far from my triumphing over him, it is he who crows angrily over my humiliation and defeat. The bet has been registered on both sides — no less a person than Mr. Brummel has taken it up ; for you must know that he himself once did me the honour of propos- ing to be my partner in this dance, and such is his conceit that he cannot bring himself to believe I could grant a favour to another which was denied to him. The stakes are very high, and it seems to me that, whichever way the matter ends, I shall find myself equally notorious. And that is not all " She paused abruptly, averting her face, but Simon saw the colour rush over cheek and neck, dying even the little ear with crimson. " In my endeavours to make matters better I have unfortunately made them worse. You see 1 thought to cajole Sir Walter into returning me this dangerous bit of paper. I made myself most agreeable to him whenever we met ; I received him each time that he called at my aunt's house ; and the result is that, though he will not let me off my promise, his flame, as he calls it, has become most inconveniently ardent." She turned and faced Simon again, blushing still, but smiling with a whimsical kind of triumph. They made an odd contrast ; Simon leaning forward, his strong face li It k«' 232 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. all astir with emotion, his eyes gazing steadfastly, it might be a little sternly, at the wayward, bewitching creature at his side-this new Rachel, who had brought back with her from the great world of which he knew nothing, a host of fascinating airs and graces which, in spite of his disapproval, riveted his chains more firmly The insight of love told him that the atmosphere of artificiality with which she had surrounded herself, even in this quiet green nook, was as uncongenial to her as it was to him ; childlike, she but aped the tone and manners of those amid whom she had been recently thrown, pattering ofif her lesson with delight at her own proficiency, but not, he felt sure, laying it to heart. '* It was for this. I suppose," he said quietly, " that you returned sooner than you intended. Well, thank Heaven you are here ! " ' " I'm not at all so sure that you do well to thank Heaven," responded Rachel, shrugging her shoulders. " I am very much in the position of a fox that has been run to earth. I have but this morning received a note from Sir Walter announcing that he has come here after me. He is actually staying at the Hen and Chicken Inn but five miles from here." " Well, what matters that ? " said Simon. " It is to be presumed that in your (nvn father's house you are safe. And the .re others besides him ready and able to defend you ! " *' Ah, that is just the point I wanted to come to • bu<- we must not go too fast. First of all I must inforrn you that I am most anxious to keep this business of the wager from the knowledge of my papa and mamma. Ihis complicates matters, you observe." " Must it be so ? I should have thought that to your mother at least " " You would have thought wrong, Mr. Simon. My YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 233 dear little mother is the last person in the world whom I wish to be worried or distressed. I know not what she would say were the news of this sad scrape to come to her ears. No, no ; even Humphrey has promised to keep it secret from her. But, now, put on your con- sidering cap and listen very attentively, for I will read you Sir Walter's letter. It begins, you must know, with a deal of high-flown nonsense about the state of mind into which he was thrown by my unexpected flight. Let me see . . . h'm, h'm . . . Town a desert. . . . Assemblies unlit by my eyes, like the sky without stars. Ah ! here we come to the point : ' Finding it impossible to exist in a world so gloomy, and being indeed drawn by an attraction stronger than the power of the magnet for the needle, I have this very day arrived amid the regions gladdened by your presence. Though the edict of my cruel charmer forbids my visiting at her home, she cannot prevent my dwelling in the neighbourhood. I warn you then, O obdurate beauty, that I shall con- tinue to haunt the woods and fields which surround your abode. No rustic Strephon ever dogged the footsteps of his reluctant Chloe more persistently than I will dog the footsteps of my coy and cruel fair. You shall not be rid of me till you grant me at least one interview — no, not though you remain in utter seclusion for months. See to what a pass you have brought your faithful admirer — drive him not to extremities, most bewitch- ing Rachel, if you would not have him take some desperate step. You have shunned me of late, but you were not wont to be so harsh' — Then he rambles on for a long time," pursued Rachel, in an indifferent tone. " I will not tax your patience with his non- sensical tirades ; but here we come to the real motive of the letter, and I must own," she added, drawing together her pretty brows, " it puzzles and annoys me : Vi f '] V > ^'3, '^^.ji^fl 1 ll|9 234 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ?'. B^'- '^ «f ^H ^H. i ■|il;^. 'Let me beg of you to consider the plan which I would now suggest to you. Consent to meet me at a spot which I shall point out. at a sufficient distance from your father's house to secure your movements oemg unobserved, and we will there once more discuss the vexed question of the promised waltz. It is pos- sible that we may arrive at some compromise. The affair has now become as painful to me as you allege It IS to yourself; nevertheless, my honour is engaged and I cannot draw back, unless you yourself give me such good and weighty reasons as shall force me to withdraw. Do but consider this proposal— I ask only for a single interview. I promise to bring with me the paper about which we have so fiercely quarrelled, and I vow to you on my nonour as a gentleman that if you but satisfy me in this matter you shall yourself destroy itm my presence.' There is a postscript to the effect that, his impatience brooking no delay, he has been to reconnoitre ; and fixes as the place of meeting the wood known as the Three Corners, a mile to the north of my father's house, and will await me there at the blasted oak to-morrow, between five and six in the afternoon. Now, Simon Fleetwood, what think you of that ? What possible compromise can he suggest ? " "What think I?" cried Simon, uhose colour had risen during the perusal of this document, and who indeed, had found it hard to listen to it in patience, " I think the fellow is an impudent scoundrel. I would you would let me deal with him." " Why, Simon, would you really take this pother off my hands ? " cried Rachel excitedly ; - to tell the truth, I myself had some notion of asking you to accompany me, and this is the favour I spoke of. for it seems to me that 1 shall be forced to keep this assignation. The wretch is desperate, as he says, and if I push him too YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 235 hard is capable of making great trouble. How thankful I am I met you, I should not at all have liked to venture alone to the Three Corners, and to no one but you, Simon, would I confess my dilemma." "You must not go near him," said the yeoman decidedly. " I take you at your word, Miss Charnock. I will undertake to manage this business, I will meet the gentleman to-morrow in your place, and will guarantee that he shall trouble you no more." " Verily, Simon, if you accomplish that you will be a mighty clever man. I give you leave to try, however. In truth I have no mind to meet Sir Walter Brooke at all — but the wager — we must not forget the wager. He holds that plaguy paper still, remember." "You shall have the paper back," returned Simon quietly. " It will not be so easy to obtain it, but still ' Faint heart never ' — I mean," pausing in confusion, " I don't know what I mean." Simon looked at her very earnestly — " I would I knew it," he said, adding in a lower tone, half to himself, " I would you knew what / mean ". " Perhaps I do," said Rachel ; and she got up very quickly and ran away. t i ^sss:^:s:z:^z::^^:::sS5SSSSSMm IT i' . , ,, 1 1 ft .1 236 ■^'i1l!S.« CHAPTER XXI. A fine puss gentleman that's all perfume ; The sight's enough. — COWPER. The wood known as the Three Corners stretched its dusky triangular length in the midst of a marshy tract of ground, mere waste land, but seldom invaded by man or beast, save at certain seasons of the year when the " withies," or willows, which throve apace in that sodden soil were cut by the inhabitants of the nearest hamlet, and sold to the gipsy folk who passed their way. A bye-path across the fields of Charnleigh Manor led to the wood on the hither side, but the only public approach to the Three Corners was a sandy lane, deeply indented with ruts, and almost impassable in winter. It was along this lane that Simon made his way, to hold tryst with Sir Walter Brooke, a little before the hour which that worthy had mentioned in his letter to Rachel, Swinging along at a rapid pace, he skirted the deep ditch which bordered this wood, and which, draining the soil in some measure, made of the peaty banks above a congenial dwelling-place for the magnificent undergrowth of rhodo- dendrons which in spring turned the lonely spot into a very fairy bower ; as he turned the corner, and prepared to follow the narrow path, which, striking off from the lane aforesaid, led across a roughly constructed foot- bridge to the centre of the wood, he came to an abrupt stop, whistling under his breath. Lo ! at the farther turn of the lane, and drawn up well YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 237 beneath the shelter of the wood, he descried a post-chaise. A pair of powerful horses were harnessed to this vehicle, and the postboy sat in his place, flicking idly at his boots with his whip. After pausing to take in these details Simon pursued his original course with compressed lips, and a heavy frown upon his brow. A few minutes brisk walking brought him to the inner side of the wood, and there, in the midst of the little clearing, stood the blasted oak which was his goal. Another rapid stride or two revealed to him the tall and slender figure of a man leaning against it ; a man dressed in the extreme of the prevailing fashion, whose blue coat and kerseymere pantaloons were evi- dently the production of an artist, while the immaculate whiteness of his frilled shirt, the accurate folds of his starched cravat, and the incomparable polish of his Hessian boots did credit alike to washerwoman and valet. Sir Walter had removed his hat, and — possibly on account of the said cravat — had tilted his head a little backwards against the tree, so that his pale face with its framework of black curls was thrown into strong relief against the grey bark : a handsome face in its way, with aquiline features and bold dark eyv-s. As Simon drew nearer, these eyes which had been fixed intently in the opposite direction, reverted slowly to the yeoman's sturdy form and rested on it languidly. When the newcomer, instead of passing on, halted abruptly in front of him, a momentary expression of surprise passed over the danc. s face ; but it was quickly gone again, and without movmg his head or in any way changing his easy attitude he drawled out that it was a fine day. " It is, indeed, a very fine day. Sir Walter Brooke," returned Simon ; *' but I have not come hither to discuss the weather with you." t .; if 238 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 'All '4' " Ha ! " remarked the baronet, expressing, however no further curiosity on the subject of the unsought-for interview. Simon, after waiting for a moment for the query which did not come, pursued in the same tone : " I came here on the part of a lady, whose name need not be mentioned between us, to transact for her the little matter of business about which you recently com- municated with her ". Under the olive skin the dark colour showed for a moment, and a gleam came into the eyes which had been hitherto staring at Simon with such cold impertinence. But if Sir Walter felt a twinge of angry jealousy he allowed no sign of it to appear in voice or manner. " The lady's choice of emissar\- surprises me," he said, putting his quizzing glass to his >ye and smiling con- temptuously. " Let me see : you are too young to be her father, and she has, methinks, no brother ; with the exception of my good friend Humphrey, I have never heard her mention a cousin—who may you be, my good man?" " My name is no concern of yours," returned the yeoman shortly. " It is enough that I know you— aye, better than you think for, perhaps— and that 1 am here to checkmate your design against this lady's peace. Perhaps I can make a guess at what you have in your mind. Sir Walter, but we will not waste time in discussing that." ^^ " My dear fellow," said Brooke with an affected yawn, " I have not the least idea of what you are talking about', but I quite agree with you that we are wasting time here. I presume that the lady is not coming, and therefore, charmed as I am to make acquaintance with any friend of hers, 1 will not intrude further on your valuable time. Pray, thank Miss Charnock for her civility in notifying to me her inability to keep this YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 239 appointment, and tell her it is bii' a pleasure deferred. I shall possess my soul in patience until the severity of her mood relaxes." As he spoke he picked up his hat from the ground, and, with an airy nod, would have passed Simon but that the latter threw out his arm so as to bar his progress. " Not so fast, sir," he cried ; " you must hear a word or two from me before you go. You have subjected this lady to the most base, unmanly persecution — that persecution must henceforward cease. You have in your possession at this moment a certain note in her hand- writing, of wliich you intend to make a use that may compromise her. Before you leave this spot. Sir Walter Brooke, you must band over that piece of paper to me." " Must I inde -d. Si; Unknown?" retorted the baronet. " I don't quite -co how ^ou will compass all this, most valiant knight." "Why, very sin-Tly," returned Simon. With a sudden movement he pinioned Sir Walter's arms, brought them dexterously together, and then, holding them fast in the iron grip of one mighty hand, began with the other to search his pockets ; but Brooke, though he struggled impotently in Fleet- wood's grasp, had other means of defence at his disposal. His lips quivered with fury, and it may be alarm, but he managed, nevertheless, to purse them into the required form, and whistled twice, sharply and shrilly. There was a rustling movement in the neighbouring underwood, and presently a man sprang out — a tall fellow dressed like a groom — who hastened towards the tree. He was carrying a long heavy cloak, the folds of which he shook out as he ran, extending it with both hands as though making read^ to throw it about some one. When he drew near the struggling couple at the trysting place, however, he stopped short with an expression of con- fi ;l fef i'lk ( ) |l '^1 I 240 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. •'J ■ i ' " 1 ■ ! ' ||t i sternation and astonishment that would have been ludic- rous had not the matter been of such serious import. " Come on, you scoundrel ! " roared his master ; " drop that d d cloak and rid me of this murderous devil. What are you standing there for, you great oaf, while you see that he has overpowered me ? " The fellow dropped the cloak and rushed on Simon, who, without relaxing his hold on the master, dealt the man so vigorous a backhander with his sledge-hammer fist that it sent him flying on his back some yards away, his head striking against the rugged root of the tree as he fell, so that he lay stunned and motionless. Simon now turned his attention to Brooke, his face livid with passion. As bya lightning flash thechain of evidence, of which he had hitherto identified but disconnected links, was now fully revealed to him. The note which had been intended to decoy Rachel to the spot, the post-chaise ready to start at a moment's notice, the signal which should summon yonder prostrate loon to Sir Walter Brooke's assistance, the cloak in which doubtless the girl was to have been infolded in case she proved contumacious, so that her struggles might be checked and her cries stifled— the whole of the abominable plot was made patent to him in a moment ; and his face as he turned it towards his would-be supplanter was so terrible that the man thought his last hour had come. At first sight of the dandy Simon had felt his heart glow hot within him with wrath and scorn. For all his hermit life and apparent tranquillity of mood this dweller amid woods and fields was intensely human, and all that day had been a prey to one of the strongest and fiercest of the primary passions — the jealous love which scarce can brook the presence of a rival. But now on realising that this aftected fop, whom he had disdained as a mere apology for a man, was at heart so black a traitor as to plan the :i .1 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 241 abduction of an unsuspecting girl, and that girl Simon's heart's beloved, a gust of fury took possession of him which for the moment swept his strong, self-contained nature past its moorings. Tightening his grasp on the baronet's pinioned arms he swung him off his feet, raised him bodily in the air, and would have dashed him violently against the tree-trunk had not Sir Walter, lifting up his voice, uttered a wail of terror, shrill and tremulous like that of a woman. On hearing it Simon came to himself, paused, still holding the swaying form, and finally cast it down roughly enough upon the marshy ground. He himself dropped with h''s victim, and knelt beside him, still imprisoning his arnis. "You cur!" he said. "By Heaven! I was within an ace of dashing out those miserable brains of yours. I thank my God that I stoppe 1 myself in time, for I would not be a murderer. You are too poor a thing to fight with, but, by Heaven ! I will make sure that you plot no more. Mark me, Sir Walter Brooke, if you dare to harass Rachel Charnock again, by word or deed, you shall rue it all the days of your life. Do not think to escape me. I will not kill you — so I tell you plainly — but I will spoil your beauty for you. No lady's heart .shall ache again for your handsome face when I have done with you. Now, sit up, and give me that paper." He released Sir Walter, but remained on the alert, ready to seize him again if he attempted to escape. Now, the abject physical terror to which that dapper young buck had recently been a prey had come as a surprise even to himself Like other youths of his kid- ney, he rather fancied himself a proficient in the *' noble art of .self-defence," and had once or twice taken a prin- cipal part in an affair of honour ; no one had hitherto 16 *''i I >il .!• ,r 111 242 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. had occasion to consider him lacking in courage. But then it does not often fall to a man's lot to find Retribu- tion, in the form of a rustic giant of herculean strength, overtake him in the midst of an apparently successful piece of perfidy ; to feel himself helpless as a babe in his murderous grip ; to escape by a hair's breadth forfeiting life as a stoat, or a weasel, or any other such vermin might forfeit it ; or—worse alternative still— to be aware that the merciless fists, the strength of which he has recently felt, are ready and apparently itching to pound all shape and beauty out of the face which is his most valued possession. Such an experience might well excuse Sir Walter's paroxysm of fear, and the alacrity with which he obeyed his tyrant's commands. With trembling hands he produced from an inner pocket an elaborately embroidered letter-case, out of which, after some fumbling, he took a folded piece of paper. Simon having opened and read it, and assured himself that it was indeed in Rachel's handwriting, stowed it carefully away in his own pocket-book, and then grimly assisted Brooke to rise. By this time the servant was sitting up rubbing his head, and staring about him with the utmost dismay and astonishment. Simon turned towards him as Brooke began to stagger away. " Get up," he said sternly, "and give your master your arm. He does not seem able to walk very well." Indeed Sir Walter was swaying like a drunken man. The fellow obeyed, and the pair slowly retreated together, the yeoman, who had paused > pick up the cloak, bringing up the rear. Thus the odd procession took its way out of the wood and n cross the bridge towards the chaise, the postboy turnnjg round in his saddle and staring with unmitigated surprise. Brooke, whose face was as white as ashes, and whose teeth positively chattered, cast occasional uneasy YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 243 glances over his shoulder at this unwished for escort ; but Simon stalked on, unheeding. Arrived at the vehicle the baronet tumbled rather than stepped in, and the groom clambered up behind ; Fleetwood stood by, the while, and as Sir Walter sank back in his corner he tossed the cloak on to his knees. '• Remember my words," he said sternly. " Ride on, boy. Mind you carry this gentleman swiftly, for he is in haste to return to town." " Curse you ! " grovv^led Sir Walter, banging to the door, and drawing up the window. But the postboy set spurs to his horses, cracked his whip, and in a few moments the coach was out of sight. 1 «» I 4 1? 244 i. CHAPTER XXII. Say thou lov'st nie while thou live, I to thee my love will give. Never dreaming to deceive While that life endures. Nay, and after death, in sooth, I to thee will keep my truth, As now, when in my May of youth, This my love assures. —Old Song. With the paper in his pocket, which had been like to prove so costly to its writer, Simon crossed the wood again, and took his way quickly through the Charnleigh fields in the direction of a certain plantation, where Rachel had announced her intention of awaiting the result of the interview. As he drew near he saw her white-robed form leisurely threading its way througli the fir trees, the level rays of the western sun definingevery out- line with a rim of gold. A light breeze lifted her curls, and set her ribbons dancing and fluttering ; and he per- ceived, as she drew nearer, that her face wore an expression of pleased and eager curiosity. Simon, whose heart still burned within him attheremembranceofthepitfall recently dug for her, was conscious, at sight of this gay, careless figure, of a revulsion of feeling so strong that it almost overwhelmed him. Recognising Simon, Rachel began to run ; pausing breathless a f:^v^ paces away from him. ** Well," she cried eagerly, "what news — good or bad? Tell me quick." *• I have got your note," said Simon, taking it from Jhis pocket-book and handing it to her. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 245 '• Why, that is good news," cried she. " Wherefore so solemn, Friend Simon ? What a gloomy face ! Come, let us see this document. My own paw sure enough — there is no mistaking it." She tore the note into minute fragments, and scattered them in the air. "There's an end of that," quoth she gaily. " There might have been a very different end, madam," said Simon. She looked at him quickly, and her face grew grave. "You are in a serious mood, Mr. Fleetwood," said she. "You rather frighten me this afternoon. Was this interview then so very alarming ? Come with me a little way through the wood — I vow you shall tell me all about it before I go home ; otherwise I shall not rest for curiosity." She turned as she spoke, and Simon answered quietly as he paced beside her : — "In truth, I have every wish to tell you." They walked along for a few moments in silence, and then Rachel turned to him : — " Well, now, Mr. Fleetwood, let us hear the end of the story." " The story might have ended in two ways," said Simon; "either would have been disastrous. You scribbled that note very easily, Miss Charnock — you destroyed it very lightly: you hardly knew, I think, what use might have been made of it." " For Heaven's sake, do not be so solemn," interrupted Rachel pettishly. "I own to you that I should not have written it, and that I was very uncomfortable while it was in Sir Walter's keeping. What more do you want ? Would you have m.e cry over it when you brought it back?" " indeed, that note might have caused you to «hed . . .isrfftil '-^'"-^n i ■ k i l^iSKl ili 246 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. many tears," said the yeoman, still gravely. " Sir Walter had laid a very pretty snare, and intended to use it as a bait. He k .ew your wish to recover it ; he also knew your anxiety to keep the knowledge of the business from your parents' ears ; he counted on your being tempted to grant this interview. His intention was to persuade you to elope with him " " Mercy ! ' broke in Rachel with u iittie scream ; '' why, I hate the sight of the creature!" " Had yoi.' refused/' continued S;mon in the sk:ady, even voice with which he had begun his explanation, "it was Sir V'.dter's ir.tention to carry you forcibly away. In these days abductions are unfortiniaJiely not uncommon," Rachel's eyes grew large witli wonder arid dismay, :u!d her breath came quickly as she gazed at Simon. ^•' H v.v do y-m know this ? " she said after a pause. *" Madam, a post-chaise was drawn up in readiness near rhe corner of the wood ; a man was concealed in the underwood, who, on Sir Walter's signal, rushed out witli a great cloak with which to envelop you " " Enough, enough ! " cried Rachel. " My God, Simon, if I had gone instead of you ! From what a fate have you saved me ! " She was sobbing now, and much agitated. Simon waited in silence until she grew a little calmer, and she looked up presently with the great tears standing on her cheeks. " Oh, Simon, you are right," she said. " I ought to hear it all, though your story fills me with pain and shame. You said it might have had another end ; what was that ? " " I do not w.mt to distress you," he said speaking very gently ; "still, I believe it well that you should know. The story might have ended — it had very nearly ended —in my killing Sir Walter Brooke. The rage which YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 247 came upon me when I realised his villainy was so great that for a moment it deprived me of reason ; but, thank God ! I came to myself before it was too late. Think well, Miss Charnock," he went on, his voice hardening again, " think well, when next you are diverting yourself with your fashionable friends, what consequences a frolic may have.". " Do not call these people my friends ! " cried Rachel. " I cannot bear to think of them. I believe that you are the only true friend 1 have in the world." She gazed at him pleadingly, and seeing that his face did not relax, for indeed the very depths of his emotion lent it an expression of sternness, she began to weep again very piteously. " Oh, Simon, do not be harsh with me ; my heart will break if you do not forgive me." " Forgive you ! " said Simon, standing still, and look- ing down at her. " Alas ! what right have I " he broke off quickly. " I would lay down my life for you," he went on, with seeming irrelevance ; " I would give my heart's blood to save you from harm." *' I believe it," said Rachel. She raised her eyes, still wet with tears, and gazed at him earnestly. ** Simon," she said, " you know the best and the worst of me. You are so strong and good yourself I believe that you could make me good too. Will you help me ? " " Do you know what you are saying? " said Simon, and his great frame began to shake like a reed in the wind. " How can 1 help you, how can I be anything to you unless " "Unless?" repeated Rachel with a little tremulous, tearful smile, as she stretched out two small wavering hands with a gesture at once gracious and confiding. " Simon, you are the only man i have ever known that ! ,1 248 jli^Jidlil YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I could trust with all my heart. If you want me, take me." And Simon straightway took her— into his strong arms ; then, half frightened at his own temerity, he would have loosed her, but that she clung to him, half laughing and half weeping. " Keep me safe, Simon," she murmured ; " hold me fast. I only feel safe with you. Tell me that you love me, Simon ! You have never told me yet that you love me." ** Have I not told you, sweetheart?" said Simon in a voice that scarcely sounded like his own. " Oh, love, I can find no words to tell you, but you know." " Yes, I know," said Rachel. " I have known a long time. Sometimes when I have felt sick at heart yonder in town—there were times, I can tell you, Simon, when I hated myself and everybody else— I have thought of you, with your good calm face, and said to myself that here was a proper man ; and then I have thought of your life amid the green fields, and the dumb innocent things that love you, and of your home so peaceful and pleasant, and I have wondered to myself if there might not be greater happiness to be found there than in " she paused, blushing. " Ah, love," said Simon, " you need not finish. I know well that you had far more brilliant prospects before you. But before God, I swear that if love, faithful, devoted worship, can make a woman happy, yof shall be happy as my wife." While they were standing thus lost to the sense of everything but their own young ecstasy, the quick light tread of a woman's foot sounded close to them, and Madam Charnock's voice was heard calling. " Rachel ' Rachel ! " & • Starting and blushirig the girl released herself from Simon's embrace, and would have withdrawn a kw paces YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 249 nt me, take away but that he gently took her hand and passed it through his arm. " Let there be no concealment," he said quietly. And Rachel blushed more deeply, and murmured penitently that he was right. Madam Charnock stopped short, as she caught sight of the two figures advancing to meet her ; she drew in her breath with a little gasp, and pressed her hands to her bosom. Who can tell what varied emotions passed through her heart during the few moments that elapsed before the pair stood beside her ? There were tears in her eyes, and her face was very pale, as she looked from one to the other. " Simon and I have something to tell you, ma'am," said Rachel ; and then suddenly breaking away from her lover she flung her arms about her mother's neck. " Ah, little Mother, you want me to be happy, don't you ? You want me to be happy and good. I can be neither unless you promise to let me marry Simon." Madam Charnock gently loosed the clinging arms, and looked gravely and sorrowfully first at her daughter and then at the tall yeoman. " So it has come to this ? " she said. " Yes, madam," returned Simon, " I have won my pi K,e." " Ah, Mother dearest, do not look so sad ! " broke in Rachel. " What can you want more than that I should be happy ? Will you not like to know that I am safe here, almost under your wing still, though in the care of this good, true man. Come, Mamma, you know that Simon is good and true." " My dear child," said Mrs. Charnock, " S'rnon is all that you say, and for a long time 1 have known of his love for you. But now I feel as if it came unon me as a surprise. I scarcely thought that you, Rachel " She paused, and went on hurriedly : — 250 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. lis " I thought you were more ambitious. I will own that I myself have often planned and dreamed a brilliant future for you— not of late years," she added, looking deprecatingly at Simon. "Such a iuture might not, as you say, have brought you happiness, my dear, and I must needs rejoice in whatever secures that— ^"^ ""^ will be sweet to have you near me— but '..; - " Her voice faltered suddenly, and she burst into tc rs. "I can understand very well," said Simon com- passionately, and indeed comprehending and sympath- ising with the wofV^ / srished traditions, of tender ambitions, and of by-gone dreams that prompted those tears. " Worldly little Mother ! " cried the girl, taking Madam Charnock in her arms again, and kissing away her tears. " You would have had me marry a rich man with a squint, perhaps, or an old nobleman who might have got tipsy every day and beaten me. Ah, ma'am, let me tell you, I am better away from fashionable folk. My one glimpse of society has been enough for me." She was serious now, and went on more timidl> . " I have beer a bad girl— wild and foolish and deceitful. I meant to have kept it all from y >u, but I will have uone with concealment henceforth. I got myself into a sad scrape lately, and only this day was in great peril ; but Simon has extricateu me from both." Thereupon, clingin tightly to her mother, and helped out by ,.a occasional kindly \^ord from Simon hen she spoke too harshly of her own conduct, she related the whole h'iio-y of her cent escapade, ending up with a little burst of enthusiasm over her lover's part in the affair. Though Mrs. Taarnock was startled aid grieved, she did not repr ^ch t .e gin ; and ext tided '^er hand to Simon with rer gr tude and cc diality. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 251 ** I do not thank you," she said, " for rescuing one who is as precious to you ; to me. Oh, Simon, to think that she should liave beei in such peril — she whom I have ever watched over ^.o anxiously. You have driven that man away, you say, but he may give us more trouble yet. Who knows what he may say, what vile colouring he may give to the story ! Oh, Rachel, to think that you should have exposed yourself to this ! " " Nay, madam," interposed Simon quickly, " I think the gentleman will keep quiet enough. He went away, I assure you, in great fear of me ; and, moreover, it will be to his interest to keep private a matter in which he has played so foolish and discreditable a part." " And, indeed, ma'am, you must not shake your head over me anv more," cried the girl, "for I have been scolded enough 'ready, I assure you. Simoh, there, was so severe witn me that I was obliged, in self-defence, to ask if he would like to marry me." Fleetwood threw out his hand quickly as though to check her. The essential modesty of love belon^^ed to him. Madam Charnock, ever quick in her perceptions, divined and sympathised with his feeling, and liked him better in that moment than she had ever done before. " Well, Simon," she said, stretching out her hand to lim kindly, " I suppose this was meant to be, t.nd 1 can trul} say I am glad this wild child of mine is to be held in such safe keeping. I give you joy, my dears." " That is right," exclaimed Rachel. " '^ou feel like mc, Mother dear, that I shall be saf'- with Simon. He loves me, in spite of my faults ; do vou ' . Simon ? " " I love you the more for them," said Simon, "since they rnake me uecessarv to vou." " Now, listen to him I " cried Rachel with a preten'ed pout. " Any man with a spark of gallantry would ha e 252 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. said I had no faults ; but this honest fellow in the first hour of his wooing must needs twit me with them. Nay, I am but jesting ; at heart I am proud of you just as you are. Oh, Mother, if yr u knew the blessing of leaning against this rock of truth after being tossed about as I have been lately in that whirlpool yonder. Here is one who could not deceive me if he were to try." Mrs. Chnrnock shot a sudden, eager glance at Fleet- wood, buL he had no eyes for her, and her earnest scrutiny could detect no change in his face except that the words of his beloved brought the colour to his bronzed cheek, and seemed to lend a certain element of shy tenderness to the rapture already patent. " Now, children, children," she said after a pause, " we must not go too fast. We must make sure of our .r'ound before we begin to build our castle. What about Papa Rachel ? " Though she addressed her daughter, her eyes were still fixed on Simon. ** Oh, Papa will come round in time," returned Rachel. ** Simon must not mind if he is a little disagreeable at first." " I think the Squire will not withhold his consent," said the yeoman quietly, " when he sees that it is really his daughter's wish. I will go up to the Hall to-night and speak to him." Madam Charnock continued to gaze at him dubiously. " I scarcely think that you will be well received ; but still, perhaps it is better to lay the case before him at once. I, at least, will be your friend." " I thank you with all my heart," said Simon, taking the hand which she extended to him and holding it a moment in his strong, earnest clasp. " Blessed, blessed woman ! " cried Rachel ; " now all YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 253 is sure to go 'veil. My father always comes round to your view in the end." She continued to prattle gaily until they reached the house ; and then, at a hint from her mother, retired upstairs, while the lady herself accompanied Simon into the study. Mr. Charnock was standing at the window, apparently on the look out for them. " Well, ma'am, I was wondering what had become of you. Ha ! you have broui^ht our good friend Fleetwood with you, I see. Met him prowling round the fields, as usual, I suppose? Never was there such a model of activity and diligence. Stay and have a game, Simon, and a bit of supper afterwards." " No, sir, I cannot stay to-night. I merely wish to see you for a few moments : I have something to announce to you." " Indeed ? " said the Squire,drawing his brows together, and coming forward into the room ; " I am at a loss to know what you can have to say to me, Mr. Fleetwood." " I have to tell ) ou, sir, that this day your dauj^hter has promised to be my wife." Mr. Charnock swore a fine round oath, and strode nearer to the young man, glowering at him savagely. "Promised, sir? What do you mean by promised? A chit like that has no power to dispose of herself Do you think I am mad, that I would allow my only child to mate with such as you ? " " Sir,"said Simon, "you gave me leave to take my chance like any other man. I have, thank God, succeeded." " Be silent, sir," roared the Squire. " What ! Do you think because I am indebted to you for a few paltry tnnilQanHc fhaf \7i->ii Ka\r*» in f^r\r\apr\\\e'r\f'f^ a rlqim !ir«/-»r> — -■" — «-»kj-«» ■>*.• ». ■■s^». _»,,^ ae^&w » ,. «ft »,,»^»»..»-».«^>-..».v- ■*■ v^ i €*- (•it *. « j.-»*-.^ t I me? You have nothing of the kind, let nie tell you. I could have done with you to-morrow, if I chose to pay f'l ! Hf ''\ 254 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. IF you oflT I have a mind to do it, too. You want putting in your place, Master Simon." Mr. Charnock appeared to consider that the mere utterance of this abortive threat should be in itself sufficient to quell the audacious suitor, and there was a certain element of triumph in his vindictive glare ; but Simon did not flinch. " Your paying me off, Mr. Charnock, would in no way alter the case. Your compact with me has served its purpose, and can no longer affect the matter one way or the other. It was a stepping-stone which brought me to her level, and may be done away with now. As your son-in-law, I shall, of course, continue to work for you, more gladly and willingly than ever." " Good Lord ! " ejaculated Mr. Charnock, " my son- in-law! How you can stand by, madam," he added, suddenly turning on his wife, " how you can listen in patience to the fellow's insolence is more than I can con- ceive. Pray, is he the husband whom you would choose for your daughter?" •* Nay, I would not have chosen him," said Mrs. Char- nock ; " but the Power which guides our lives is stronger and wiser than we. I believe that this is the man who is designed by God to be our Rachel's husband. Na}% my dear," she went on, as the Squire would have inter- rupted her impatiently, " we cannot interfere now ; things have gone too far— you cannot in honour draw back. Let us make the best of it. He is a good man— a gentle- man in the best sense of the word— and we shall keep our child near us." "Upon my word, you go very fast," retorted Mr. Charnock. "You have settled it all, it seems. Pray, may I ask, does Rachel know all about the business ? Does she know of the mean way this precious lover of hers has wormed himself among us ? " YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 255 Mrs. Charnock bent a startled, eager glance on Simon, who remained, however, perfectly composed. " I could not tell her," he said simply. " You know I gave you my word, Mr. Charnock, not to drop a hint of it to any one." "Well, and you'll please to keep your word," cried the Squire inconsequently. "By , I must have been mad to stoop to such folly. But how could I believe you'd be so base as to take advantage of my straits? There, go, go— get out of my sight ! I must have time to think over this." " I will be patient," said Simon. " Take as much time as you like, sir. I do not believe that you will break your promise, nor can I think you would thwart your only child." He left the room, then, Madam Charnock accompanying him to the house door. " I would," she said somewhat wistfully as they paused upon the threshold, " I would Rachel knew the whole of this. If she should come to hear of it later I fear she will think your silence strange." "She cannot think it strange," he replied, "for I will, of course, explain how I was bound. You see, the Squire still insists on silence ; and it would be a pity to anger him further now. liut it scarcely matters after all. She would care as little as 1 how we were brought together so that we were united in the end." Seeing him so happy and untroubled, the lady forbore to give voice to her own fears ; but her face still wore a doubtful expression as she withdrew into the house. 1 2S6 K tj '■"liifMfi- SIS'! CHAPTER XXIII. It was a lover, and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfields did pass. —Shakespeare. Sleep was long in coming to Simon that night, and though at last bodily fatigue overcame mental excite- ment, he would start from his slumbers every now and then with a great throb of joy: "Rachel loves me! Rachel is mine!" He did not ask himself if he were dreaming, for in truth our dreams only cheat us in minor matters; great happiness, like great sorrow, dominates our consciousness when we sleep as well as when we wake. The reigning joy or grief is enthroned, as it were, in the background of our mind, while our dream-fancies sport with us ; and even while we dally with these shadowy visions we are aware that the reality will still hold court when they melt away. Simon knew his happiness was no dream, and yet it seemed to him so marvellous, so extraordinary, that he could scarce comprehend how it had come to pass. He had said of Rachel once that she was as much above him as the stars of heaven ; he had thought of her in later days as a prize, within reach, indeed, but one that would be long withheld ; and now, behold ! of her own free will she had come to him — she had given herself to him, she had told him that she loved him. No wonder that the very inmost depths of his being were stirred with almost incredulous delight. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD, 257 KESPEARE. All that day he went about his work in a kind of maze of rapture, busy with the thought of Rachel, though he deemed it more discreet to keep away from the Hall. Whithersoever he went, her image hovered before him ; the very beat of his footsteps seemed to mark time tr the song which filled his heart— Love, love, love, love. He came home a little earlier than usual, and stood a moment looking round the oak parlour, as though this strange new bliss of his changed even its familiar aspect. By-and-bye, however, he began to identify, with a little thrill of pleasure, sundry of the homely articles of furniture which might be associated with her presence. She had once mirrored her pretty face in the great table — he laid his hand caressingly on it now ; yonder was the chair on which she had sat on the day he had first beheld her in all her maidenly beauty— his father's chair — a throne for blessed memories ! A throne too, for no less blessed and tender hopes. At some not far distant day, perhaps, it might be that coming home at such an hour as this, he would find her installed in it, busy with some dainty piece of work ; and going up softly he would bend over it, and she, leaning back, would tilt up her exquisite face— he saw it all. Then, when they had talked together for a little while, he would wheel it for her to the head of the table, where she would preside, mistress of his house, queen of his heart. O, Rachel, Rachel ! He was standing, still lost in happy contemplation, when a light tap on the window-pane made him start and look round, Lo ! his Beloved stood without, even as he had stood on that memorable evening which had been but now in his thoughts, gazing in upon him, as once he had gazed at her. The ruddy afternoon sun which was firing those narrow panes shed a glory round her watchful figure, lend- ing even a transient glow to the curling rings of her dark W.^. ^W*i^m 258 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. pi' hair ; her small face, bent eagerly forward, was lit up, too, with a smile half mischievous and half tender, and her eyes were bright, but yet had a softness in them which he had never seen before. Uttering a cry he hastened to the window ; but at his approach she made a little airy sign towards the house-door, and thereupon vanished. A moment later he met her on the threshold. "I scarce liked to knock," she explained. *• Your servants might have been scandalised at your receiving a visit from a lady. But in truth, Mr. Fleetwood, since you would not come to ask how I did to-day, I thought I would payj'ou a little attention." "Ah," said Simon with a long breath, " I did not dare to go to the Hall, but if you knew how I have been longing ! " " Oh, what a big sigh ! " she cried, laughing. " It carries conviction with it. Well, to say the truth, you have done wisely in keeping away to-day, for the atmosphere yonder is stormy, Simon, distinctly stormy. My father glares at Mamma, and will not speak to me at all. No, do not look so troubled, the clouds will pass away in time. Even this one," she added gaily, " has a silver lining. If Papa had been as conversational as usual our dinner would not have been over so soon, and I should not have been able to come to see you. So let us be thankful for that." By this time they had entered the parlour, and Rachel glanced round it almost as Simon had done. " Dear old room ! " she cried. " How little I thought the first evening when took refuge here from the rain that it was to be my home. Do you remember that evening, Simon ? " " I was thinking of it the very moment that you came," said he. "Were )0u, indeed? and was that why you were YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 259 was lit up, ■ tender, and less in them g a cry lie ch she made J thereupon le threshold, id. " Your ur receiving twood, since , I thought I did not dare . have been "It carries Li have done here yonder ler glares at No, do not ay in time. • lining. If our dinner lid not have thankful for and Rachel e I thought •m the rain ember that t that you you were smiling to yourself? You were so absorbed you did not hear my first tap. I had been watching you quite a long time before you saw me. Were you thinking about me, Simon ? " The colour in her cheeks had deepened, and her voice was very soft and caressing. ** I was even thinking about you," returned he, " which must, I am sure, surprise you very much." He spoke half jestingly, but with the vibration in his voice which Rachel had learned to connect with deep emotion ; and stretched out his hand the while, half timidly, half reverently, to touch her curls. " I, too, was thinking of that blessed night which brought you to me first— here to my home— and of how, when I looked in and saw you standing by my hearth, I thought " " What did you think ? " said she, as he paused. Her eyes were downcast, so that the long black lashes almost rested on the cheeks in which the happy rose was ever deepening. "I can hardly tell you what I thought," went on Simon. " I only know that my heart went out to you." " And that ?s more than two years ago — a long time to keep a man's heart ! You have not had mine for so long a time — does it grieve you to know that ? " " No, sweet : nothing grieves me so that 1 have it now." Rachel was proceeding to define the exact moment when she had first detected that her heart was wandering in Simon's direction when the door suddenly opened and Dolly, who had been about to enter with a tray, started back, aghast at sight of the visitor. R ichel had skipped a little further away from her lover, and now fell to laugh- ing and clapping her hands. *• Why nothing is wanting, I do declare," she cried. " If your poo^ dear aunt were alive, we might think our- 1. 26o YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. pi , Emsssvjimr.- selves back in the past. I have had my dinner, you know, Mr. Fleetwood, but I should vastly fancy a little damson cheese ; and if you would give me a cup of tea, I should be grateful." It need scarcely be said that Simon delightedly agreed, desiring Dolly to set down the tray, and get out the best teapot without delay. " And you may send away that jug of beer, Mr. Simon," observed Rachel, "for I insist that you shall drink tea to keep me company. I may make it, may I not? Indeed, you should see what excellent tea I brew." A further order being given to the effect that Susan must on no account attempt to make the tea, Dolly with- drew with very round eyes and a broad smile. Much whispering and hurrying to and fro could now be heard through the partially open door, and presently Susan herself appeared, wreathed with smiles, and bearing aloft the silver teapot ; followed by Dolly carrying on a small tray all further requisites. The sight of the old woman's curious and excited face, the significant glances which she cast from one to the other, and the ecstatic warmth with which, having care- fully polished her hand on her apron, she shook that which the girl kindly extended to her, was too much for Rachel. " I must positively tell Susan," she cried ; and then, without waiting for Simon's reply, went on, laughing :— " Susan, I have come to see your master because I think he wants cheering up— indeed, he is so dull and lonely here that I believe I shall soon have to come here for good." •• Ma'am ! " cried Susan, and fell to clapping her hands and rocking herself backwards and forwards, and laughing and crying together ; while Dolly from the background kept up a rapturous and continuous murmur to the effect that it was "a lovely match— it was that. It was a YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 261 beautiful match— a body couldn't wish to see a nicer. It was a gradely match, aye, that it was!" At length, after Rachel had actually kissed her, the old woman was so much overcome that she was obliged to retire with her apron to her face, the underling escort- ing her, and assuring her that she oughtn't to be that taken-to when such a match was going for'ard. Then Simon wheeled forward the chair ; and Rachel took her place, as he had pictured, at the head of the table, with a little demure air which charmed him mightily. " Now sit you down," said she ; "you must not wait on me any more. This is going to be a rehearsal, Simon. Imagine, if you please, that I am already Mrs. Fleetwood —no, no, stay where you are! You and I are staid old married folk, and there is no need for transports. Now Farmer Fleetwood has come home after a long day in the fields. He is tired, and glad to rest. He has put on the slippers which Mrs. Farmer Fleetwood has thoughtfully left ready for him in the hall, Pray don't interrupt — I know a farmer's wife should have her hus- band's slippers ready for him. (We must imagine that part of the performance has been gone through, however.) So the Gaffer — isn't that the proper title? — draws nigh to the table tired ^nd hungry, and the Missus, having made his tea most beautifully and just as he likes it, now proceeds to pour it out. ' Two lumps, my dear ? Cream ? ' I do not know that on butter-making days I shall be able to spare any cream ; I mean my dairy to be a model, do you know, Simon ? Yes, indeed, I intend to be a notable housewife ; do not think, sir, that you will have a frivolous being for your wife. Not at all ; I mean to do my .share of thp wnrlr I ran f*»11 ■tmn TVTf-, .,,^., (-»••'<<- ^"*- 1 , ,»- — .. ----. . — j^'^t. i^o, y\ji^ rnu:iL nut icavc yuuf chair, my poor tired husband— I will bring your tea to you." t '\ f 1 262 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. h > '\ iLi ii^mmiKk-JtMiL, She quitted her place, as she spoke, and came round the table carefully carrying the brimming cup. The look upon his face may be imagined, the love with which he caught and kissed her hand ; but it would be difficult to describe the strange and sweet admixture of feelings with which he suffered the object of his worship to minister to him. In the ideal marriage the wife must be in very truth a helpmeet, " A spirit, yet a woman too ". The most chivalrous tenderness, the most passionate devotion on the husband's part, does not prevent his gladly admitting this division of labour, this sharing of duties. Were it otherwise, indeed^ something would be wanting to the full blessedness of the union. Rachel's attitude towards Simon this evening brought to him a fortaste of that blessedness ; he had hitherto dreamed of serving her, of devoting himself to her, and now, the mere fact of her waiting upon him, half in play though it was, opened to him a whole world of new delights, of deeper tendernesses. The moments sped all too quickly until Madam Char- nock came, half alarmed, and half vexed, to look for her daughter; and though she chid her gently the mere sight of the radiant faces caused her trouble to melt away ; and she, too, drank a cup of Rachel's tea, and walked with the lovers among the roses afterwards ; and finally suffered Simon to escort her and Rachel homewards till within a stone's throw of their own door. There taking leave of them, he walked back through the dewy dusk, his steps once more keeping time to the song his soul was singing; and when he reached the room all perfumed with the memory of her presence, he threw himself upon his knees and thanked God with a full heart for his e^reat haoniness Rachel came no more alone to his house, though 80.716- times she paid him little visits accompanied by her YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 263 mother, and hardly a day passed thc»L they did not meet, either out of doors or at tl Hall. Simon, strong in the belief of his own rights, betook himself there boldly '■"om time to time, and was not denied admittance, ti. )ugh the Squire scowled when he met him, and re- turned his greeting with scant civility. Mr. Charnock's mood at this : •.;ne was anything but pleasant ; he could not be brought to admit the justice of the yeoman's claim, but durst not, for very shame's sake, dismiss it altogether. He snarled at his wife, and glared at Rachel, seldom speaking to her unless to gibe at her low-born lover. " Papa is really very disagreeable," she said to Simon one day. " I wish he would go away from home for a little — he is quite unbearable now. I am not so fond of my father as I was," she added with a laugh. Simon and she were walking up and down in the sunny garden at Charnleigh Hall, sheltered from curious eyes by the tall yew hedge that was its owner's special pride. As she spoke she thrust out her hand towards one of the stately hollyhocks which stood primly in a row on the other side of the path, and, diawing it towards her, began idly to pick off the rosette-like blooms. As Simon did not speak, she glanced mis- chievously at him over her shoulder, and suddenly tossed one of these blooms right into his face. "There, Mr. Sage, that is to make you laugh. I felt your disapproving glance right at the back of my head ; but you see there is no use in my pretending — I do not feel particularly fond of my father at present ; and as for you, my poor Simon, I am sure you have no cause to love him. He knows very well he will have to con- sent in the end therefore wh^^ need he keep us on the rack ? " All this while she had been toying absently with the 264 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. flowers, placing one in her bosom, coaxing another, with divers petulant little pats, to remain in her dark locks just above her ear. Simon could not repress a siuile at the contrast between her words and her actual em- ploynient. "Is it not a very pleasant rack, love?" he said, drawing her gently to him. " For my part, I can well' endure it." " Upon my word you take the matter coolly," retorted she, twisting herself away from him. " I thought it w.s the proper thing for a lover to be distraught until the day, at least, was fixed. I own I cannot be quite happy until I feel that no one has the power to part us." " Who can part us since you are willing to r^ive your- self to me?" said Simon. "We must be patient for a little while, and then all will go well : whc two love each other as we do, it is not in the power of man come between them. You know, without my telling you, how I long for the moment which will makt you absolutely mine, but meanwhile— I am very happv." Rachel took the hollyhock out of her hair, and going clo^c to Simon attempted to fasten it in the buttonhole of i\h coat. Needless to say the short stem afforded no su:;v;v/s, and it tumbled out again into the hand which she ^H d ready to receive it. She repeated this manoeuvre several times, apparently absorbed in it, and finally remarked most irrelevantly, still with her eyes on the blossom : — " If Sir Walter Brooke had succeeded in carrying me off, I suppose he would have taken me to Gretna Green ? " The young man in question was the last person of whom Simon would have been likely to think at that moment, and Rachel's reference to him gave him a little shock of unpleasant surprise. The indulgent smile with YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 265 which he had been looking down at the girl left his tace, and he answered somewhat stiffly : — " It is possible ; but I see no objf^ct in recalling that very p inful cnisode." " The subject is as unpleasant to le as to \ ou, as you may jppose," said Rachel ; " but aii the same, I have been thinking about it lately. 'Twould have been ver} disagreeable, to be sure, to have been obli<^ed to run away with such a monster, but if i were somebody else, Simon — just think ! If it were a man whom I could love and trust with all my soul — if it were you, for instance, who wanted me to run away with you, only fancy how exciting it would be ! Nay, >ut think of it, you and I together in a post-chaise, fl} iway from our pursuers — papa, I suppose, in his won mood — well, perhaps not papa, let us say Humphrey — -it would be good fun to outwit Humphrey, wouldn't it ? Now, you must own th t the experience would be very entertaining." Simon imprisoned the little hand which was again toying with his buttonhole, and held it fast. " Nay," he said ; " I would not have our wedded life begin without God's blessing, Rachel. I would have our marriage take place in our old church -lere, where I have so often prayed that God would give )Ou to me — ah, if you knew how I have dreamt of it ! Some day, sweet- heart, we shall be married there, and you and I will walk quietly together afterwards to our home." " Oh, oh — what a prosy old Simon ! So that is your notion ? Confess mine is much more original. Think of the excitement — stealing away in the early morning, and getting far on o' r way before the hue and cry began, and then galloping, galloping, keeping ever ahead of our pursuers. I should like them to come rather near near enough to make our hearts beat fast ; but we should give them the slip in the end, and be man and wife before J I MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 2.8 1^ ■ 3.0 lao *^ u BiUU 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ r:^PPUEmfVHGE_ ^^ 1653 East Main Street =S= (716) 288-5989 -Fax inc iii 266 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. they could come up with us. To my mind ii would be glorious. ' Simon looked at her in silence, and with a smile which If somewhat startled, was still indulgent. After a moment she said in an altered tone : " I have shocked you, have I not ? You did not think I could be unmaidenly." "It is not in you to be unmaidenly," he returned, very kindly If you are a little childish now and then, I do not find it hard to forgive you." ^^ " Do you call it childishness ? " said she musingly • well, perhaps. Since you forgive me you may call it what you will." ^ ,„«rir" 267 1 CHAPTER XXIV. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be ashamed to be my father's child. But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners ; O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise I shall end this strife. But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. —Shakespeare. Affairs were still in an uncertain state when they were unexpectedly brought to a crisis by the sudden summons of Mrs. Charnock to the dying bed of her aged mother. A passionate attachment had always existed between the two, though of late years they had only seen each other at long intervals ; and Madam prepared to set out without delay. Her anguish and anxiety were increased by the unsatisfactory position in which Rachel found herself. At the latter's earnest request, and in obedience to the promptings of her own heart, Mrs, Charnock took courage to remonstrate with her husband before leaving, and succeeded in extorting from him an unwilling recog- nition of the engagement. Relieved, and almost joyful in spite of her sadness, she hastened to impart the tidings to her daughter. " He consents, Rachel," she said ; " ah, child, your father has a warm heart — you must not misjudge him. He cannot bear, he says, to add to my anxiety, and so he gives leave for Simon to visit you here during my absence as your acknowledged suitor ; and promises to talk about the wedding on my return. He is writing 268 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. .{si this very day to break the tidings to his brother <; now my little one, you are satisfied, are you n ''f' Yo must be patient and discreet while I am away be co„ tent w,th seemg Simon here, and do not go Jk,sloZ or you will set people talking " ^" nis nouse, coul"wi'sh'""shr sr'"' r '^ ^" *^' "^^ p--*^ wisn sfte ielt a real sorrow for her moth,-.'. mpendmg loss, and grieved to see her set forth on h? long journey with so heavy a heart ; yet nevertheless .1 ra^/SSn^-- -^^ own^atura/^S- Z .o^d !n ;ttTrIl^:roft Is't Se^t^et' '' :;'^pf 'r !"^ f°-- — state tou. ffeT::: opposite his daughter at meals without vouchsafin^a sTlfabll^r he° '"' ^"' T'^ ^^^P°"^'"S inltfli: syllable, to her occasional utterances. One corning lefii'^Jfth'^Lr^'^L^Thirn'''"! '° ^°"' '•^^"^^ '^^ yours?" ^""'^"-^ '° ""s ridiculous engagement of " She said, sir, that you had been good enough to witn surpr.se and alarm behind her tea urn Humph!" said Mr. Charnoci- she needn't have been ,„ such a prodigious hurry. . ..„ not so su e 'hi I can allow , now Read what your .ncle says ' Rachel picked up the letter, which he tossed to her es'ci^red !n 7m ' '"T' ''''''■ ^^^ J"''" C^:; s^nsl Tf the H ^f ''"^ '"^ ^""'^"'^ '"'er, hi,, upon the irr-i^^'l'"* ^" =""«"- ■"«=' bring how the held tf r\^' '" ""'^^ ■■"^'^"'>- t° <^""^-v! how the head of the house could possibly countenance m i •' .(:■ «;: YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 269 ! brother. So ou not? You tway ; be con- 5 CO his house, t her parents her mother's t forth on her /ertheless she ■al joy at the no doubt he r, the Squire )uld often sit )uchsafing a gruff mono- ne morning, tonished her , before she agement of enough to Jt colourins' edn't have sure that lys." sed to her, 1 Charnock t astonish- letter, his nust bring 5 conceive untenance such an act of mad folly. He set forth the brilliancy of the prospects to which so beautiful and accomplished a young woman as his niece was naturally entitled, and wound up by declaring that he, on his part, was deter- mined to leave no stone unturned to avert the impending catastrophe. If, he added, pecuniary embarrassments were at the bottom of this extraordinary affair, then he himself was willing to come forward to save the family honour, and to prevent the name of Charnock being trampled in the dust. As he was unfortunately laid up with an attack of gout, he could not attend his brother in person, but intended to dispatch his son Humphrey without delay to represent him at Charnleigh Hall. Rachel read the paper through, folded it, and returned it to her father. "Evidently," she said, with trashing eyes, "my uncle supposes he can bribe you to break your word. Surely, sir, you will let him know that it is not possible for a Charnock to be bought over." She was prepared for some testy response, but not for the fury which was evoked by her words. Mr. Charnock grew purple in the face, and was for a moment unable to speak. By-and-bye, however, the power of utterance returned to hini, and he stormed at the girl after a manner which would have alarmed a less high-spirited damsel. But it merely served to lash Rachel into a very pretty rage. She tapped her foot at some of her father's invectives, while other's called forth glances that seemed positively to flame. The Squire ended by ordering her to leave the room, and not suffer him to see her undutiful face again that day. Rachel accordingly retired to her room in high dud- geon, and sat by her window for a long time, with burning cheeks, and a heart that throbbed almost to suffocation. She had passed an hour or cwo in vengeful ii ' 2/0 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. meditation when she suddenly caught sight of Simon's figure advancing towards the house, and was preparing to descend to the drawing-room, when, to her surprise she saw him going away again. Instantly the conviction flashed upon her that her father had ordered admittance to be refused to him ; and without pausing to assume her hat or even to ascertain if her surmise were correct sh^flew downsrairs and out of the house in pursuit of h.m. But his long strides had carried him half way through one of the plantations before she came up t'urned H u" '°""^ "' ^^^ ^^^^'^ ^^^^^^"^ ^' turned, and rapidly retraced his steps. " I was told you could not see me," he said "Oh, Simon," cried Rachel vehemently, "they want to part us ! I always felt that our happiness could not last Humphrey will never rest until he has come between us " Humphrey!" ejaculated Simon. P T^ u '*'/" 'P'^^ ^""^ ■'^^^°"'>^ °" his part," cried Kachel, and pride and meddlesomeness on the part of my uncle. My uncle has written to Papa, Simon • he IS furious at the notion of our marriage. Humphre; IS commg here at once to remonstrate with my father. Between them I know they will get round him. If dear Mamma were here she would take our part, but Heaven knows when she will return. My father often vacillates but he is obstinate, too ; and once he gets a notion thoroughly into his head there is no moving him He has some weaknesses, besides-weaknesses which I cannot bear to touch on even to you. Oh I (eel that this is the beginning of the end-they will not rest until they tear us apart." " But that cannot be, love," said Simon quietly : " they cannot part us, let them do what they will. Your father and mother have both given their consent-it cannot be now revoked for a mere whim." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 271 It of Simon's /as preparing her surprise, he conviction d admittance o assume her kvere correct, in pursuit of im half way le came up footfalls he said. "they want 3uld not last. etween us." part," cried on the part pa, Simon ; Humphrey my father, d him. If r part, but ather often ■ he gets a no moving weaknesses ou. Oh, I —they will tly ; " they (^our father cannot be " But if my father will not let us marry ? " Simon's face was fixed and stern. " We are pledged to each other," he said. " If your father breaks his bond that is no reason why we should break ours." " Ah, my brave loyal Simon ! Oh, what a blessing it is to feel that one may cleave to something so strong and true." She clasped both hands upon his arm, and looked earnestly into his face. " Simon," she went on, " you are my true lover ; you are to be my husband — between you and me there should be no reserves, no pretence. I am going to tell you plainly what is my mind, and you will listen to my words in the spirit in which I speak them." Her face was illuminated by some great, almost over- powering emotion, her voice trembled, but she kept her eyes fixed unflinchingly on his face. " Humphrey comes to-morrow," she went on ; "I know him very well, and you may believe me when I tell you that if it is in the power of man to part us he will do so. But we must make it impossible for him to part us, and we can do that only " She broke off, and suddenly hid her face on his shoulder. " We can do that by cleaving steadfastly to each other," said Simon. " There is a better way," she cried, with her face still hidden ; " a sure, prompt way of putting an end for ever to this uncertainty. We must be — married before Humphrey comes." " Ah, love, that would indeed be a delightful way out of the difficulty, but I fear me it is scarcely possible. No one in this neighbourhood would marry us without your father's consent, and it could not be done so quickly. Your cousin comes to-morrow, you say?" IP ' I 5 ( 2^2 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Oh, Simon, how dull you are ! Of course, I do not expect to be married here. You must take me away— take me to Scotland this very day, Simon. We could be over the border to-morrow morni..g, and married fast and safe before Humphrey arrives here." There was a moment's silence, Rachel not daring to look up, but marking, in the midst of her confusion, how fast and loud beat the heart near which her head was pillowed. "Do you not see," she went on in muffled tones, "how easily we could do it? Why, it is scarce more than eighty miles from here to Gretna Green. We should come back bound to each other for ever more- no one could attempt to part us, and we could be married in church afterwards, you know." Still silence, save for that eloquent beating of Simon's heart ; by-and-bye Rachel twisted round her face a little and peered up at his, and read, amid all its passionate tenderness, evidence of some inward struggle. Why do you hesitate ? " she broke'^out quickly. •' Oh, Simon, do you not see how your hesitation humi- liates me. You will risk nothing for me ; you do not love me as I love you." " My dear," said Simon, " it is because I love you so much that I hesitate. I would risk anything in the wide \vorld for the happiness of calling you mine, except your precious self. Oh, I have no words to tell you what I think of your sweet trust— but for that very reason I shrink from taking advantage of it. You are so sacred to me, I would have everything about you sacred in the eyes of the world as well as in my own. I would not have it in the power of any one to condemn your conduct. You are so innocent, so confiding— but I, who am older and wiser, should take care of you." " Simon," said Rachel, " I am quite old enough to YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. irse, I do not e me away — . We could married fast ot daring to nfusion, how er head was uffled tones, scarce more Green. We 2ver more — 'e could be ', of Simon's ■ face a little > passionate ■le. lUt quickly. ation humi- you do not ove you so ling in the line, except :o tell you • that very . You are about you ny own, I :o condemn fiding — but )fyou." enough to 273 know my own mind, and I understand very well what is needful for my happiness. I know I could not endure the anxiety and uncertainty of such an engagement as ours is likely to be — secret, if we are to be engaged at all ; dragging on for Heaven knows how long — and I am very sure that I shall be safe and happy as your wife. Therefore have done with scruples. If you would like to marry me take me away this evening." Then, as he looked down at the beautiful glowing face, Simon forgot everything but that the highest good which life could offer was, if he chose, to be his beyond the possibility of recall. It was within his grasp, how could he but choose to secure it? The unfair treatment he had received seemed to justify the proposed plan of action, and if he had any lingering qualms they were speedily overpowered by the pleadings of his great love. It was therefore hurriedly decided that Simon should meet Rachel at the corner of the wood near his house — the self-same in which Mrs. Charnock had once been like to lose her life — at eight o'clock that evening, and should drive her thence to Preston, where they would exchange the gig for a post-chaise. Travelling all night they would easily accomplish the journey to Gretna Green — a distance of between seventy and eighty miles — before the following morning was far advanced ; and, having gone through the formalities which were to bind them irrevocably to each other, would be n their way home almost before their flight was discovei\ d. It was possible, indeed, that the whole affair might be kept secret, and that the quiet religious ceremony which the young people hoped would follow these irregular pro- ceedings might be the only intimation which the world would receive of their union. When Rachel left him, Simon returned home, his heart throbbing tumultuously and his brain in a whirl. 18 274 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Surely never was there a day so long in passing ; but at length the time v/as at hand. His best and fleetest horse was harnessed to the gig, and a plentiful supply of rugs stowed away beneath the seat, together with a soft warm cloak, which he added as an afterthought. It had belonged to his mother, and, as he took it from the lavender-scented cupboard and shook out the folds, he handled it with a curious reverent tenderness, partly on her account, partly because it was now to enfold Rachel. This last consideration seemed to make the fact of the nearness of their union n.ore real to him. In less than twenty-four hours she would be his wife ; thenceforth his would be the exclusive right of supplying all her needs : the food she ate, the clothes she wore would be provided by him. Delightful thought ! Precious privileges ! Rachel the star, the queen, the sweetheart, was now to be Rachel the wife. The simple household of the Farm retired early, being generally astir as soon as it was light in the morning ; Simon, therefore, knew that his absence would not in all probability be discovered until breakfast time on the morrow. At the appointed place, Rachel stood waiting for him, darting out from behind a tree as he reined up his horse. " Everything is prospering with us," she cried glee- fully, as she sprang up beside him. " My father, you must know, banished me from his presence for the day, so I dined alone, and then went to my room, telling my maid I should not require her again to-night. She thinks I have gone to bed— Papa imagines I am repenting in bitterness of spirit. Nothing will be discovered until to-morrow morning, and then most likely they will think I have only just made my escape, for I took care not to date the letter I wrote to Papa — I thought it best to write, you know, telling him what we were doing, so that YEOMAN FLEETWOOD, ssing; but at and fleetest iful supply of r with a soft ight. It had it from the the folds, he jss, partly on ifold Rachel. le fact of the In less than enceforth his 1 her needs; be provided 5 privileges ! was now to early, being he morning ; lid not in all time on the :ing for him, Lip his horse, cried glee- father, you "or the day, , telling my She thinks repenting in )vered until y will think care not to : it best to Ding, so that 275 he need not raise a great hue and cry about me— and I rumpled up my bed so that it will look as if I slept in it. Altogether, you see, I have been very clever. And now* while they all think me so differently enga-^ed, here I am flying away with you, Simon." Simon felt a passing twinge at Rachel's first words, for deceit was naturally hateful to him ; but the mere sight of her laughing happy face, the triumphant sense of possession, the consciousness of her whole-hearted dependence on him, speedily dispelled his qualms, and his exhilaration increased as they sped rapidly onwards. After all he too was young, and love was sweet ; and at that moment the mere fact of existence delightful. It was a lovely evening, warm, yet with a sparkle in the air. As they flew past woods and across common and moorland sweet spicy scents of pine and heather greeted their nostrils. The sun set all in a glory, and the clear summer twilight made of the familiar country a mys- terious and wonderful land. Now they were far away from the neighbourhood of Charnleigh, and the horse, settling down to a swift steady trot, swung them rapidly over the coaching road which led to Preston. The twilight changed its aspect, and their surroundings became more etherial ; the pale luminous green yonder at the horizon began to deepen and to melt imper- ceptibly to a shadowy blue ; the stars twinkled out, and presently a great full moon rode triumphantly over their heads. Silence had reigned for a little time between the lovers, but Rachel uddenly broke it :~ " To-morrow, Simon, to-morrow, we shall be speeding along this same road — man and wife ! " i 2/6 CHAPTER XXV. But let this day, let this one day be mine ; Let all the rest be thine. —Spencer. Simon often looked back upon that journey with a feeh'ng that it had only taken place in a dream. It was true the sweet presence at his side had at the time seemed tangible enough, and the need for prompt and decisive action very real; but, later on, when he called to mind how they clattered into sleeping towns that night, with what difficulty they aroused the drowsy ostlers and surly turnpike keepers, how, though the scene changed constantly and they advanced ever farther and farther, it seemed to their impatience as though they would never reach their journey's end, but would go galloping on and on interminably. Then— ah, how often Simon recalled it afterwards — they became con- scious of a change in the aspect of the country; the black shadowy forms of tree and hedgerow began to assume more definite shape, and through the universal greyness came faint gleams of colour. The chaise- lamps burned dim, the stars overhead grew pale, and all at once shafts of light seemed to transpierce the heavens, and they found themselves speeding onwards through the glory of the dawn. Rachel's face looked pale as the light fell on it, and she shivered ; but when Simon bent over her, drawing the folds of the cloak more closely round her, she smiled. Very soon after- wards they realised with a great shock of joyful surprise LiM*- YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 277 -Spencer. lurney with a a dream. It s had at the :d for prompt on, when he leeping towns ;d the drowsy •ugh the scene ever farther ce as though nd, but would hen — ah, how became con- country; the ■ow began to the universal The chaise- •ew pale, and anspierce the ding onwards 3 face looked id ; but when of the cloak y soon after- Dyful surprise that the goal was actually attained. The postboy, turnin, round in the saddle, announced they were nearing the border, and with a grin pointed out the famous bridge. "Simon," said Rachel suddenly, "we have forgotten the ring. I must have you put a ring on my finger but where to find one now ! " " Why, perhaps mine would do," said Simon, drawing one from his finger. "You see it is quite plain, and indeed almost like a wedding-ring. My mother, poor soul, would insist on giving me a ring on my twenty- first birthday, and I had hard work to persuade her to choose a simple one. I have worn it ever since. 'Tis a world too big, sweet, for your little finger, but it will serve the purpose now. Next time," he added with a smile, "you shall have one more suited to you." "Nay," said Rachel, "I love this ring because i*- is yours. You shall have it cut down for me. Why, what a big hand you must have, to be sure, Simon ! We must tie this on by-and-bye." And by-and-bye, sure enough, when the fateful words had been said, and they had breakfasted together, she drew a silken thread from the fringe of her sash, and, passing it through the ring, she made Simon knot it firmly round her finger. " Now," she cried jubilantly, " now we are quite safe. Look at that, Husband Simon, and realise that the knot is tied, and can never be untied again. Do you under- stand, good man of mine ? You could not get rid of me now if you were to try. It is done, and can never be undone." " Blessed, blessed bond ! " cried Simon, and he kissed, first the slender finger, and then the great unwieldy ring. Soon, very soon, they set out on their homeward jour- ney, for their great object was to return before the news i' . 278 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I ';i:;if of their flight had spread. « All that we wanted " Rachel said, - was to make it impossible for any one to part us. We have done that now. Oh, Simon, I feel so strong and so safe. They may do their worst-it cannot hurt us— no one can come between us now." This indeed was the burden of the thoughts of both all that long happy summer's day. Long it was, accord- ing to ordinary reckoning, but to these two it passed with unaccountable quickness. Seated side by side, in bliss- ful security from interruption, free now to lay bare to each other secrets which even in the intimacy of betrothal had seemed too sacred to be revealed ; free, moreover, to keep silence, with the certainty that their spirits still communed ; conscious through all of absolute security, of entire union— union which it was now impossible to break. There again came in the joyous refrain—" It is done and can never be undone ". They pursued their way with such rapidity and made so few halts, that it was but five o'clock in the afternoon when they reached Preston, alighting at the inn where Simon had left his horse and gig on the previous night— a certain hostelry situated at the South-western end of the town, nearest to the road which led to Charnleigh. Here Simon proposed that Rachel should rest for half an hour and refresh herself with tea before they continued their journey. The young couple were shown into a cosy private room on the first floor, and were just preparing to sit down to their repast when a clatter of horse's hoofs was heard in the yard below, and the sound of a well-known voice reached them through the open window. " It is Humphrey," cried Rachel, clapping her hands ecstatically. '' He has come in pursuit of us. Shall I not call out to him quickly to prevent his making a disturbance here?" !r:j-r3r2sssB3K^ : YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 279 Before Simon could reply she had sprung to the window, and, leaning out, called in her most demure and dulcet tones : — " Pray, Cousin Humphrey, do you happen to be looking for me ? " Humphrey, who had just alighted fr )m his horse, started violently, and looked up. " Are you looking for me. Cousin Humphrey ? " she repeated mildly. " Most certainly I am," he replied in a voice that shook with suppressed rage. " Thank Heaven, I am in time ! I thought you had been farther on your way by now." "Why," said Rachel, "accidents will happen, you know. Horses will cast shoes, and even experienced drivers may take a wrong turn now and then. But it makes no difference in the end, Cousin, I assure you. We are just about to ' ve tea ; will you not come up and join us ? But you must make haste, for it is late, and we wish to pursue our journey." " Do you, indeed, madam ? " returned he coming close under the window and looking up at her with a face that grew ever darker. " I fancy that what I have to tell you may cause you to alter your mind." " Well, there you are wrong," retorted she blithely. " Come up, if you please, and say everything you fancy so long as you do not delay us unreasonably. But I warn you your pains will be lost on me." Humphrey, without replying, began to make his way towards the inn door, and Rachel, turning from the window, advanced into the room, skipping and clapping her hands. " This is vastly entertaining," cried she. " He flatters himself he is still in time. Now, for once, I will steal a march on this clever cousin of mine, and pay off a few ' 3 'i 28o YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 11 old scores besides. Quick, where is my glove ? Not that one— the left— the left. Now, Simon, for your life do not say a word to make him think we are married I promise myself some rare sport. I will draw him on and on- you'll see— and when I have played him long enough I will whip off my glove and show him the ring Now, you blundering old straightforward fellow, keep quiet and leave him to me." Many a time afterwards Simon conjured up the vision —the slender figure standing with its back to the wind- dow, bathed in the full glow of the afternoon sun, the mischievous face in which the dimples came and went, the laughing eyes bent expectantly on the door. Thus he saw her— his girl-wife- oh God, how often ! "Here he comes," she cried under her breath, as a rapid step was heard in the passage without ; and a moment afterwards Humphrey entered. ■I. l!i!ii : 28l CHAPTER XXVI. And he said likewise, That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies, That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight. —Tennyson. Charnock threw one scornful glance at Simon, and then turned his attention to his cousin, greeting her unceremoniously. *• You may thank your stars. Miss Rachel, for those lucky accidents which delayed you until now. It was close upon noon when I arrived at Charnleigh, and my poor uncle, who was nearly out of his mind with grief and anger, had not long discovered your flight. He had thought you sulking in your room — even when he ascertained that you were nowhere about the premises the possibility of your elopement did not occur to him. Not, indeed, until on making inquiries he found that your lover was also absent. Ah, you laid your plans very cleverly, but you are not quite so clever as you supposed, you see." "So it appears, indeed," she returned. "I had no idea you would come up with us here, but really, my dear Cousin, I am sorry you should have given yourself so much trouble ; you must have been tired after your long journey, and it was a little incon- siderate of my father to send you forth again on such an unnecessary errand. If you think you can bully or cajole me into giving up Simon Fleetwood I can assure you very positively that you are mistaken. 1 1 m V 11 f'l 1 1 i I ' -n I n f I 282 i ill YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Nothing that you can say will have the least effect on me." "There, my good girl, you are making a mistake" retorted Charnock, who, though his face was livid with passion, had evidently schooled himself to speak with calmness. " It is quite impossible that what I have to tell you should not have a very great effect on you " ' This grows interesting : pray let us hear." " When you suffered yourself to be persuaded to take this disastrous step," said Humphrey deliberately "it is more than probable that you imagined you were trusting yourself to a man who, however beneath you in degree was at least honourable and straightforward." " Why, what remarkable penetration has this cousin of TTa ^' ^""^ '^^' Humphrey, it is quite probable that 1 did. Now, I wonder by what intuition you guessed the power of Mr. Fleetwood's persuasions." Here she darted a joyous, mischievous glance at Simon. " Is it not won- derful that he should have divined how you contrived the affair, how you besought me, how, in fact, you would take no denial ? Clever Humphrey ! " " It requires no very great penetration, I think to guess that such a plot was hatched by him," cried young Lharnock, whose breath was now coming quickly and who was evidently beginning to lose mastery over'him- self. ;'It was worthy of him-like the honourable man he IS, with scornful emphasis on the word, " to take such advantage of your youth and inexperience. You were bound for Gretna Green, I suppose ? " "We were even bound for Gretna Green," responded Rachel still smiling. "Truly the wedding would have been worthy of the husband ! But no doubt Mr. Fleetwood wished to bind you to him before his true character should become known to you." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 283 '• It is quite likely," she returned lightly, " that he . .lOuld have been desirous to bind me to him, and it is quite unlikely, my good Humphrey, that I should ever learn anything about his character which should make me love him the less. As to the elopement, I may as well tell you the truth about it. I myself " " Hush, Rachel," interrupted Simon suddenly ; " this is a matter which we will keep to ourselves. It is not necessary to take your cousin into our confidence." She started, laughed a little shamefacedly, and looked down, blushing and silent. The ready submission, the evidence of the yeoman's power over one whom he himself had found it im- possible to dominate, destroyed the last remnant of Humphrey's self-control. " You poor blind foolish puppet ! " he cried bitterly ; " it is time you knew how grossly you have been played with and deceived. Come, 1 will relate to you one or two little items which I'll wager that you have been ignorant of till now, well as you imagine you know this disinterested lover of yours. You trust him so com- pletely, do you not ? You are convinced that it would be impossible for him to betray your confidence ? Pray ask your Pearl of Honour, then, how it was that he never mentioned to you a certain vile and discreditable contract to which he was a party. You remember Edward Giflford ? " " Really, Humphrey," said Rachel pettishly, " I wish you would not shout so loud, nor jump so rapidly from one subject to another. Of course, I remember Edward Gifford, but what has he to do with Simon except that he happens to be his cousin ? Pray tell me first about this wonderful discovery of yours, this vile and dis- creditable contract as you call it. I have no doubt it can be easily disposed of." She threw back her little ilfU 284 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. head and glanced at Simon with proud confidence. He had been hitherto quite passive, but now came a step nearer to her, his face composed, his glance steady " I can better explain the business," said Humphrey once more endeavouring to regain his composure, "if 1 first relate to you a little matter in which Edward Clifford was concerned. My uncle happened to be in very great straits for money at the time when Edward Crifford was paying court to you, and knowing that he was a rich man proposed to borrow from him a large sum— fifteen thousand pounds, I think. To this Gifford agreed on condition that your father promised to favour nis suit. " A nice compact, truly ! " cried Rachel, with ilamin- cheeks. " So it was Gifford who made it? I am sorry Simon that you should be disgraced by such a cousin' but indeed I have no right to condemn him since my own father could stoop to such baseness." " Wait a bit ! " said Humphrey ; " the plot thickens as It progresses. Your noble disinterested lover, Mr. Simon Fleetwood, gets wind of the affair; in some inexplicable way he drives Gifford from the field " "Ah, my brave Simon," cried Rachel, with sparkling eyes " that was like you ! Though my own flesh and blood was faithless to me, you protected me." And as she spoke she stretched out her slender gloved hand, the hand whereon the wedding-ring lay snugly concealed, and passeo it through his arm. "Oh yes, he protected you," sneered Charnock ; " you shall hear how he protected you. Good Farmer Fleet- wood IS a sound man of business, and it seemed to him that the bargain which he forced his cousin to drop might profitably be taken up by himself. Now be quiet, Kachel —as she was about to break out fmo^tuou-l'-'— " let me finish my story, and then say what you hke K4 • YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 285 idence. He ame a step :e steady. Humphrey, iposure, " if ch Edward id to be in en Edward ng that he :im a large his Gifford i to favour th flamingr am sorry, h a cousin, since my hickens as Mr. Simon explicable sparkling flesh and And as hand, the :oncealed, :k ; " you ler Fleet- d to him to drop be quiet, uously — Kou like. This would-be speculator comes to my uncle. * You are in need,' says he ; ' you don't know where to turn for fifteen thousand pounds.' ' I am at my wits' end,' says my uncle. ' I'll lend the money to you,' says your valiant, noble, high-minded lover, * on the same terms as those agreed to by my cousin Gifford.' " " Enough ! " cried Rachel fiercely. " I will not listen to another word. 'Tis not in human nature to stand by and hear the man I love and honour calumniated thus. You do well, Simon, you do well to treat these abomin- able falsehoods with the scorn they deserve. Do not answer him — do not gratify him by even denying them." " He knows very well that he cannot deny them," retortt-d Humphrey. Simon laid his hand gently on the little hand which trembled on his arm, and looked Rachel full in the eyes : " Love," he said quietly, *' I do not deny them. The way in which he has told his story is garbled, but the substance of it is true." The hand within his grasp leaped as though stung by a reptile, and was quickly snatched away ; when she spoke her voice was harsh, unnaturally loud, absolutely unlike itself. " It is true that knowing my father's straits you offered him a sum of money for the right to become my suitor ? " " Yes," said Simon, " it is quite true." There was a silence in the room for the space of a full minute, and during that minute Simon, whose eyes remained fixed on Rachel's face, till then so full of youthful softness and bloom, saw the lines tighten and harden till it became, as it were, a mask of itself — a dreadful rigid likeness of the face which had been so dear to him. Suddenly she flung up her arms and burst into a peal of loud discordant laughter. ii '{\ t 'I f m 286 il ii YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Truly, we live in a practical age," she said. " Last Monday se'ennight a man sold his wife by auction in Sheffield market-place. He called her a cow, and put her m the hands of a butcher with a halter round her waist. My father appeared much scandalised when he reao me out the tale, but, in truth, I think that I and the cow stand in much the same position. She only fetched a gumea and a pot of beer, poor thing, but she was probably a common, worn-out animal, not good for much. I believe I may say I am thorough-bred and moreover, in my prime— I'm not surprised that fifteen thousand pounds was the first bid, but it was scarce fair to drive the purchaser away ; 'twould have been better Mr. Fleetwood, to have competed with him openly and then m the ordinary course I should have been knocked down to the highest bidder." She spoke pantingly, her voice being still quite un- manageable, her sentences coming in gusts and being broker every now and then by a shriek of that horrible unnatural laughter ; her hands were pressed tightly on her bosom, her teeth gleamed through her drawn lips- only her beautiful piteous eyes retained any semblance of their former selves. Simon was thunderstruck at the sight of her frenzy Having measured her love by his own, and imagined in his siniphcity that her standpoint must necessarily be the same as his. It had never even occurred to him that the method he had employed in doing away with the barrier between them could be misjudged by her. Indeed,hehadinnocentIy looked forward to the day when heshould be free to divulge It to her, to relate how the idea, first suggested by her own chance reference to her namesake Rachel, had gradually taken hold of him ; how, when the compact was actually concluded, he had been proud to think that he was serving her father as Jacob had served Laban ; how at «.\ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 287 the conclusion of each day, he had comforted himself with the thought that he was working for her — striving to earn the right to win her. He was now so overcome at the sudden revelation of the aspect which his conduct wore in her eyes that he was for the time incapable of speech. Even Humphrey was almost frightened at the mischief he had wrought. She turned to him presently with startling suddenness. "You, too, Cousin Humphrey," she cried; "surely you would not be behindhand. You'll stand your chance with the others, will you not ? A younger son's son is not worth much, it is true, but the heir to Charnleigh may do something. Come, you will make an offer — you must make an offer." "I am indeed anxious to help you, Rachel," said Humphrey confusedly, " and it is for that very purpose I proposed to visit Charnleigh. My father and I are willing to cut off the entail on a portion of the property, so that it can be sold, and thus defray my uncle's liabilities." " And somebody else's liabilities, too, eh ? " said the girl ; her lips were quite unsmiling, but her frame con- tinued to shake with recurring spasms of laughter. " I know all about your debts, Humphrey, and feel sure that you have made good terms for yourself Pray, is this other portion of marketable property, my father's daughter, to be thrown in with the rest?" " Rachel," said her cousin with an injured air though with increased perturbation, "you do me injustice, indeed you do. If for your sake I agree to part with a large portion of my inheritance, it is but just that — that— some measure of compensation should be made me." " For my sake ? " interrupted Rachel ; *' what good will it do me ? " 288 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ffllw " It Will do you this much good, that your father can pay off yonder scoundrel, that the bargain will be quashed, and that you in consequence will be free" " Free ! " exclaimed Rachel. " Good God— free i " She dropped into a chair, flinging herself forward across the table so that her face was hidden. Both men simul- taneously started forward, but Simon, pushing the other on one side, reached the girl first, and threw his arms about her; but with a shriek she sprang up and re- leased herself. "Do not touch me ! " she cried in a low voice, but with such an expression of loathing that his arms dropped, and he fell back without a word. "Come, Rachel," said Hrruphrey now pressing for- ward, " you take this too much to heart ; there is no harm done, after all. Send the fellow about his business, and let me conduct you home." " Home ! " she replied slowly. " I have no home • do you suppose I will ever cross my father's thresh- hold agam ? I might go to my mother, perhaps, but she IS miles away. My mother— did she know of this? Do not tell me that she knew." ^ Humphrey did not answer, being, as it happened, Ignorant of the matter in question ; but Simon's deep voice struck in : ** Yes, Rachel, your mother knew." " Then indeed I have no home," she cried ; " it little signifies what becomes of me. Go, go, both of you, and leave me to myself." " Rachel," said Simon, " I am not to be dismissed thus. I have a right to demand a hearing— I have a right, too, to demand that this matter should be discussed between us two alone. Desire your cousin to leave us." She was about to make some indignant rejoinder when YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 289 oinder when a sudden thought appeared to strike her, and she turned hastily towards Humphrey. " ^^%f ^' Je^^e us, Cousin. I. too, have something to say o Mr. Fleetwood which must be said in private Do not be afraid ; it will not take me long." Seeing that he still hesitated she waved her hand petulantly. "Go, I say, go. Heavens, how slow you are! Why do you delay ? " ^ " Because I do not like to leave you in such keeping » responded Humphrey bluntly. "I have seen the strength of the fellow's influence over you. Goodness knows what he will make you believe-what rashness he may not persuade you to consent to." "You may set your fears at rest, Humphrey Char- nock, said Rachel deliberately. "Mr. Fleetwood's influence over me exists no longer. Come, that you may realise the fact, and since I suppose I must go somewhere, I give you leave to proceed now to the coach office and to engage a place for me in to-night's coach for London. I presume my aunt will take me in —she at least has never deceived me." "Not to-night!" cried Simon involuntarily "you are not fit to travel farther to-night. Take at least some hours' repose." " She turned upon him with a stony glance, resenting his audacity in still venturing to take thought for her and after a moment's pause she again announced her in- tention of travelling by that night's coach. "The coach!" ejaculated Humphrey, "you would not travel by the common coach ? No, dear Cousin let us have a post-chaise. I will escort you." _ "A post-chaise," repeated Rachel; and then she ;aughea again and clasped her head with both hands JNay, no post-chaises for me." She shuddered. "Book 19 I 290 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. me, if you please, for an inside seat ; but do you, if you must needs travel with me, take a place outside. I am not in the mood for your company to-night. Now go, go," she repeated with frenzied impatience ; " if you' delay any longer, I vow I u ill refuse your escort alto- gether." Humphrey, much chagrined, withdrew, and when the dooi :losed behind him Rachel turned to Simon. " I will not Helay you long," she said quickly, " but I have something ..ere which I must return to you." She tore off her glove as she spoke, and began to pluck fiercely at the ill-fitting but firmly secured weddinf^. ring. " My God ! " broke out Simon, " I am punished— I might have known there could have been no blessing," The cry burst from him almost without his know- ledge, but Rachel heard, and it fanned the flame of her resentment. "What, you would twit me now, I suppose? You would reproach me for my blind folly— my— my imbecile confidence. Oh, it is of a piece with the rest." While she spoke she was still dragging at the ring, but the little silken thread, tightly knotted by Simon's fingers, held fast; with a yet more desperate wrench she at length succeeded in freeing herself, but not before the tightly-drawn thread had cut into the soft flesh, causing blood to flow. "Oh, your hand," cried Simon impulsively, "your poor little hand ! " The involuntarily tender tone, so often welcomed, but now so abhorrent, caused her heart to swell nigh to bursting. She turned upon him hk' /, 'i,:tle tign .s " What is my hand to you ; vvould strike it off could I rid myself at the same time of its shame having worn your pledge." m YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 291 She held out the ring now, the blood dripping from her lacerated finger. "Take it back, ut she tossed it back and said she had no mind to read it. And then, looking me full in the face, she told me that she had parted from you for ever and never wished to hear your name again. And looking at me still, she went on to say that she hated you the more because she must bear your yoke all the days of her life." " Ah, she told you that," said Simon in a dull voice. " She told me. She concealed nothing from me, though she bound me to keep secret from her father that which she calls her shame. She reproached me bitterly with having kept silence on the subject of your treaty with my husband, and vows that she will not return home. When I told her that her father had forbidden us to speak — forbidden you as well as me— she laughed bitterly, and said she doubted not that you were well pleased to keep silence. And then, Simon, because I pitied you, and could not endure the injustice, I related to her all the story from the beginning, not concealing my share in it. I tried to make her see how little you thought to wrong her in striving thus to earn the right to woo her. I told her how you had offered to work for her as Jacob did of old for his beloved ; and she cried out with a scornful smile that indeed you were well fitted to play the part of Jacob, since no man understood better how to act a lie." "Tell me no more," cried Simon, throwing out his hand suddenly. " Nay, indeed ; I should not speak to you of what must be so painful. It is painful to me, too, believe me. I did not understand— I could not guess— oh, how will it all end ? Simon, Simon, she must come back to you. She is your wife, and it is wrong for her to have forsaken you. ijGsides, her position is so anomalous — so dan- gerous ! She is leaving her aunt's house now, you must swing out his YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 323 know; my sister-in-law naturally resents Rachel's usage of her son. Of a truth, she flouts him, though I cannot led on Humphrey and now plays him false. It were better to own the marriage, but yet I almost fear cross Rachel in this mood. And fhen her fa he" h,s health .s broken, and I dread a further shockfor h,m. And the scandal of it all ! Oh, Simon, had you but reasoned w,th her, held back-but I will no reproach you, we must just think what is to be done now"'^ Nothing can be done," said he. •• Do not try to persuade her, madam ; if she comes back to me she must come of her own accord. She is leaving her aunt'! house you say. Whither, then, is she going f " bhe intends to sojourn at Tunbridge for awhile with a friend of hers-Lady Susan Harding Later on thev proceed to Brighton. I k„ow nothfng of this Ladv Susan, save that she was a friend of the late Du hesfof Totr Th "' ''"'"' °' ^^'^^' ' "^'-^^ 4-en ' . . house. The company, indeed, which she receives -l.ngs exclusively to his set. I dislike the project Siraon but Rachel is headstrong-I fear her taking some desperate step, committing some irretrievable foil if I endeavour to coerce her. Would that I could watch 'mZ "^f t''"'- ^'-. -y husband need., m" Madam, I l,ke not to think of her thus cast adrift It seemed natural to me to return here, but if it is mv P^sence which makes her shun Charnleigh, iZ Z ^_^He spoke impulsively, but Mrs. Charnock shook her of'wha^t h»rK^™°u '^" ^°" '"^^ ^"^'y 'he memory 01 What has been, the scene, ,.,l,»re nvrt-'u - - , .„ L „ , , ' '" 'nv cniiu was wont annorn ^^^K^' ^"' "^"^ ''' °^^°"^ '- her now? She cannot bear the name of home-she will not forgive her :i:l ! il I 324 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. If f father. She imagines, my poor Rachel ! that by sur- rounding herself with amusements she can drown the bitterness of her heart. Well, let us talk no more of it — as you say, nothing can be done. We must only be patient, Simon." They parted then, and he saw the lady but seldom afterwards, for her visits to the Farm had perforce to be paid without her husband's knowledge. The tidings which she gave him at these rare intervals were sparse and unsatisfactory. Rachel wrote that she was enjoying herself vastly ; now she had been to this assembly, now to that. The Prince of Wales had visited Tunbridge, and she had played the harp for him. He was certainly monstrous fond of music, and had told her the harp was the instrument he preferred for feminine use, insomuch as it afforded opportunities for displaying the beauties of the hand and arm. She had also met Mr. Brummel, who had been mightily attentive, the compliments which he had paid her having aroused furious jealousy in the breasts of the recognised belles of the place. He had vowed to make her the rage at Brighton during the ensuing winter, and she promised herself much enter- tainment from the fact, for it was well known that if he possessed the will he had certainly the power to fulfil such an engagement. " All this does not sound very like our Rachel," said Madam, one day, " There is no mirth in her letters, for all the pleasure she feigns to extract from these gaieties." Simon folded up the paper gloomily and returned it to her ; its flippant tone jarred upon him. His heart was sore and heavy — could hers, then, throw off its load so easily ? Later on came news from Brighton of breakfasts at the Grove, a concert in the Pavilion grounds, races on the Downs, a ball at the Castle Inn, at which Rachel YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 325 had danced twice with the Prince, and twice with Mr ?'^ v" u T^^ '^^^'^' '^^ '"^°™^d her "pother, was a most dehghtful form of exercise, and she quite revoked all her former objections to it. She walked daily on the S erne, and was quite surrounded by beaux and dandies whenever she took the air. His Royal Highness not infrequently condescended to pace beside her for a turn or two; nothing, indeed, could exceed his affability. Lady Susan gave card-parties of an evening, but Rachel had not yet joined, for it seemed to her that a monstrous deal of money was won and lost by the players, male and female, and the condition of her purse forbade this hazardous amusement The letters arrived with tolerable frequency at first, but after she had been some time at Brighton there was a long silence. Mrs. Charnock lamented over it to Simon when she met him '' I cannot but feel anxious," she sighed ; and he, poor fellow, could say little to comfort her, for. in truth he was anxious too. ' ..^r,?T'"^' ^° ^'' '"'P^'^"^' '^^ ^^"^e out to him in the field where he was superintending the operations of his men. She called to him, and when they had drawn apart from the others told him tremulously that she had that morning received a communication which disturbed her. II You have heard from Rachel ? " he cried quickly Nay. This concerns her, I fancy, but it has been sent to me anonymously. The cover is directed in a s^trange hand, but I believe it proceeds from Humphrey. Read this, Simon. I blush to show it to you-I would countel''' ^"^ ^^^^ ^ ^'^""^ """ °"^^ ^'^^ '^^^^^ ^° ^^^^ Simon received the document from her shaking hand • It proved to be a printed paper containing some'^satirical verses such as were then much in vogue. They were 111 .n 326 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^%- ,..„ - headed " A New Star," and spoke of a recent discovery made at Brighton by ^'England's Hope and Glory," whose studies in astronomy were already of so varied and remarkable a character. It was not enough for him to single out luminaries whose radiance had long— over long, perhaps— dazzled the world, or to draw attention to those astral bodies which were chiefly remarkable for their size — his own greatness doubtless accounting for this preference. He had now actually found a New Star, the beauty of which was fresh to all beholders. After making merry for some time on the subject of Fa//tng Stars, the writer ended with the hope that the Royal Enthusiast, who had hitherto studied astronomy chiefly by ^ts {Fs), though of late he had seemed to have more heart for' t {H—d), would now make no jniss-take. The simple yeoman read the paper through, and looked at Mrs. Charnock in utter bewilderment. "It seems to me great nonsense," he said bluntly; ** scurrilous nonsense, I have no doubt, but I do not understand a word of it." "What!" cried Madam impatiently, "sure'y the meaning is plain enough. England's hope and glory is, of course, the Prince— do they not speak of him here as the Royal Enthusiast? See, they allude to Mrs. Fitzherbert and Lady Hertford— the Prince of Wales, you know, ' intimate with both these ladies— in fact, it is comn ily said that Mrs. Fitzherbert is his true wife, as his marriage to her took place some years before that with Princess Caroline. And all this talk about a new star, a star with fresh beauty, a miss-take. Simon, Simon, my mind misgives me— why should this paper have been sent to me ? " " Madam," cried Simon hotly, " I see that you fancy these insinuations are directed against your daughter, Good Heavens ! do not you, at least, know her better? YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 327 She is as pure as she is proud, God bless her, and God forgive her! " " But why— why should the paper have been sent to me? " repeated the poor mother almost with a wail. " It may well, as you say, have been despatched by your nephew. Heaven pardon me if I wrong him, but I believe him to be capable of any malevolence. As for the Prince of Wales, his follies are notorious— his atten- tions, they tell me, are divided among many. Alas I I fear that the discovery of new stars is common enough to him— but Rachel is too high-minded to suffer him to take liberties with her." " Simon, you almost make me ashamed of my mis- trust ; and yet I cannot help being anxious. Why does she not write to me ? " " In trufh, I cannot say, madam. Not, I feel sure, because she has anything to conceal. Her letters spoke openly of his Royal Highness' attentions. Oh," he cried passionately, " it is inconceivable to me that you can doubt her ! " The lady was silent for a moment, looking fixedly at him ; then she said with a deep sigh : '• I hope you are right, Simon— indeed, you must be right. Surely I should be satisfied if you are." "Satisfied!" he repeated with a groan; continuing after a pause in an altered tone—" I believe her to be in- capable of compromising herself if that is what you mean." " You are a good man," said the mother, speaking, however, sorrowfully; "no one will ever love my poor child as you do." It was about a week later that Simon received a letter in a hand that was unknown to him, a delicate, flowing hand, evidently that of a woman. On opening it he discovered that it was headed " iirightelmstone," and was from no other person than gentle Bertha Gifford. 'i El 328 •YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. IE "You will be surprised to hear from me, my dear Cousin," it began, "but I have no one with whom to take counsel on a very delicate matter, and so bethought me of turning to you. You remember the great kindness I have received from the Charnock family, and the friend- ship which exists between me and Rachel. She is, as you are perhaps aware, staying in this place ; and I am at the present moment sorely preplexed and disturbed about her. Though she is as affectionate to me as ever, I find her in many respects changed. She is restless and flighty, perpetually craving for excitement, and— what gives me most anxiety—seems quite heedless of the remarks to which she exposes herself I could not bring myself to write these things, Cousin, were it not for my attachment to the dear girl, and my conviction that you will respect my confidence, and advise me wisely. I remember your esteem for the Charnock family, and I know that you are as anxious as myself to uphold the honour of their name. There is much gossip current here— foolish and spiteful, no doubt, but I fear me that Rachel's heedlessness affords some grounds for it. The Prince of Wales is frequently in her company, and she is surrounded by a number of people who abet and en- courage any folly she chooses to indulge in. By all accounts this Lady Susan Harding, with whom she is staymg, is a most unfit person to have charge of her ; the company which frequents her house is, I feel sure,' not such as her mother would approve of Tell me honestly if you would advise me to warn Mrs. Charnock of the condition of affairs, so that she may remove her daughter before serious mischief occurs." Strong man as he was, Simon turned sick and faint as he read this letter. He sank into the nearest chair the paper fluttering in his hand. After a time he rose,' and mounted the stairs, walking heavily, and stumbling YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 329 as he went. His step sounded so unlike his ordinary one that Susan came hastily out of her kitchen to ascertain what was the matter. Receiving no answer to her repeated queries, she followed him to his room, and watched in surprise as he moved about, slowly, and with a dull vacant face, looking as though walking in his sleep. " What are you sortin' out your clothes for, Simon ? " she inquired presently. "Are you going away?" " Yej, I am going away. Fetch me my bag, there's a good soul." "Eh, dear," murmured Susan, "I doubt theer's sum- mat amiss!" " Yes, Susan, there is something amiss." " Yon letter— it brought thee bad news ? " " Very bad news." " Eh, lad, ye give me a turn when ye look at me that gate. Hoo's not dead, Simon ? " " No, not dead, thank God," broke from Simon in- voluntarily ; and then he suddenly seized the old woman by both hands. " Oh, Susan, Susan, perhaps I should not say Thank God." H 330 CHAPTER XXX. For she had eyes and chose me : no, lago, I'll see, before I doubt, when I doubt, prove, * • • • Her name that was as fresh As Dian's visage is now begrim'd and black. —Shakespeare, That very morning the yeoman set forth, posting first to London.andreachingBrightonontheeveningofthefollovv- ing day. He was then travelling by coach, and though the distance from the capital to Brighton was short in com- panson with that traversed the day before, the halts were so frequent and the delays so tedious that it took nearly a dozen hours to cover the fifty miles between Blossom's Inn, whence the coach started, and his destination. Oh, what a weary journey was that, and how Simon fretted and fumed over the stoppages. The morning was raw and chilly, and the other outside passengers sipped appreciatively at the elderberry wine which was served to them, steaming, at the Tangier, Banstead Downs. Then the interminable lunch at Reigate where some of the travellers, bitten with an irritating desire for knowledge, insisted on inspecting the Baron's Cave ; succeeded all too soon by a halt of two hours for dinner at Staplefield Common. Other delays occurred at Hancross and Patcham, ana the journey was further impeded by the necessity of walking up the hills, the coach proceeding at a snail's pace, and the passengers beings called on pv^r ?nd qno- *-^ -> •'■^ Its progress by pushing at the wheels. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. , 331 ' At last, at last Brighton I And now Simon's feverish impatience gave way to a sense of profound depression. He had reached the goal indeed, he was near enough to his wife to protect her in case of need ; yet how could he obtain access to her since he was even ignorant of her address. This, however, he could soon put himself in possession of ; and so having removed the dust and stain of travel, he sallied out, late as it was. and after some inquiries, was directed to Lady Susan Harding's house He paused on the opposite side of the road, looking up at It a moment or two before he could come to any definite conclusion with regard to his next act It was a small house enough, but light streamed through every chink of the shuttered windows, and a couple of lackeys stood gossipping on the steps. Was Rachel within? Which of the shuttered ^vindows belonged to the room which sheltered her ? His heart began to beat tumul- tuously at the very idea of her proximity ; but after a moment he made up his mind as to the course he in- tended to pursue, and, stepping across the road, accosted one of the servants, "This is Lady Susan Harding's house, I believe?" The man, who had been laughing loudly over some jest which he was retailing to his companion, broke off a moment to stare at the new comer, and then continued his anecdote without further noticing him. ^ " By 'twas as good as the play itself to hear 'em You little devil,' says the old cat, ' you are getting cut of my hands, confound you.' < Your ladyship,' says she ' twas yourself taught me tc fly high ' ' Ye'll fly a bit too high, miss,' says Sukey. « Up like a rocket and down like the stick.'" . " D me, so she will," cried the other man « Our ioiks say she's done for aire idy. Ha I ha ! well, 'tis the nrsh f"imA» l-i£» oU„ 1. i A ..... first time he shows taste to my thinking. A grand- S 'I 332 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ■u ::l'f! mother, ha ! ha ! or a great fat mattress of a woman-' that's the kind of d d favourite he generally takes "Pray," interrupted Simon impatiently, "will you answer my question? Does Lady Susan Harding live here?" ^ "Lord, don't be in such a hurry— you're a stranger to Brighton or you'd know Tis too bad if a gentleman cannot have a moment's conversation with a friend without being interrupted so unmannerly." "Ay," chimed in his comrade/"tis so wulgar to interrupt Mr. Brummel never takes no notice of interruptions He was visiting at our place the other night, and the Prince himself, who was there incog., cut in while he was telling a story, and Mr. Brummel, he justs talks him down. ' Did you hear me speak, George ? ' says his ighness after a bit, and Mr. Brummel says " But what Mr. Brummel saiu was not destined to transpire, for here Simon's patience came to an end. "Answer my question," he said sternly, "or 1 shall make you regret your insolence." His hitherto quiet aspect and plain dress had led the fellow to suppose him to be a person of so little con- sequence that he could be slighted with impunity ; the yeoman's authoritative manner now caused him to think himself mistaken, and he answered quickly and respect- fully. "Yes, sir, this is her ladyship's house; but she is not at home at present. She has gone to the play, and will not be back till late." "Miss Charnock is staying here, I believe," pursued bimon, in tones harsh with suppressed emotion. " Does she happen to be in ? " Before answering, the man glanced with dismay .at his companion. ive," pursued iisrnav at his YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,>, •' Miss Charnock has gone tr the theatre wfth her ladyship, .s,r Who may I have the honour to say called, sir? ^ " I thank you," returned Simon ; " I will not leave my name : I shall come again to-morrow, probably " _ Before he turned away he saw the two men grin mean- ingly at each other, and as he crossed the road he fancied he heard the words ' There goes another d d fool * He walked away more slowly than was his wont, 'for the same feelmg of oppression and nausea came upon h,m .h,ch had pvertaken him on the perusal of Bertha's letter The talk of the two men had at first merely dis- gusted him, but now seemed to convey a terrible mean- ing: It was irresistibly borne in upon him that they alluded to Rac^o^ Indeed, even if their words, as they recurred to hM, had not of themselves pointed to her their meaning i.oks, their evident consternation on discovering his acquaintance with the young lady, their insulting pity would have made it clear to him. Good Heavens ! was his wife spoken of thus, was her name not only bandied about by gossips of her own rank, but even in the mouths of servants ? By-and-bye he made his way to the theatre, feeling that he must see Rachel ere he slept that night. One glance at her face would tell more to him, who knew its every shade and variation of expression, than all these abominable inuendoes. They disturbed him. but not for one moment did he believe that there was any real foundation for them. She was w^ayward. he knew, and ot late. It seemed, had grown heedless of the opinion of the world He would judge for himself to-night whether this new-found recklessness proceeded in truth from a growing love of pleasure, or from her secret oain. i hough th. performance was half over he was able to procure a seat ; purposely choosing a cheap one at the back 'I ri^Nl. 334 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Of the gallery^ The hghts, the colours, the sea of faces, the bnlliant display of jewels, all dazzled him for a few moments ; but by-and-bye his eyes grew accustomed to the place and travelled systematically from box to box Women were there in plenty; richly dressed dowagers" beautiful girls, young and fresh and innocent-looking though they laughed consumedly at a piece which was neither very moral nor very refined ; other women beautiful too, who laughed still more appreciatively' and who did not even look innocent. Simon scanned them all, but it was almost with relief that he realised that she of whom he was in search was nowhere visible Having looked in vain for the face he longed and yet dreaded to see, he began to take note of the theatre Itself, and particularly of one large box more handsomely decorated than the others, the blue pa-.els of which spark- led with stars and were festooned with roses. A curtain of crimson velvet prevented Simon from obtaining a good view of Its occupants, but he observed that three or four gentlemen and ladies were seated at the front of the box One handsome woman, no longer in her first youth, with a sweet and somewhat melancholy face, was leaning back in her chair, and seemed to be speakinV to no one ; now and then her eyes rested attentivei; on the portly man who sat in the centre, but who did not once address her, and who indeed bestowed on her no manner of notice. This personage was handsome in a certain florid way ; his full, rather sensual face being set offoy glossy brown whiskers and brown curiy hair On his right sat a lady, very elaborately dressed and covered with a profusion of jewels, who laughed and talked incessantl;- ; though the important-looking person- age, whose attention she seemed most anxious to engage appeared to address his conversation chr.fiy f. .r.^.' body, on the other side of him, concealed from Sim^s YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 33. view by the curtain afor^caJr^ tu eazinff at hirr. u ^f*"*^^'^^^' The yeoman was gazing at him absently, marking his smiles anH owner of that hind? HeTl 7'°"'^ '° ''■'""■''y "^^ at the fin» 1 ] . °°''^'' "'°'^ attentively now broad ribbon across his chest?" The fellow turned round, staring and laughing .- ..Jf-'V That's the Prince ^f Wales •• ladv hi T '°'" '*''' ^™°"- "And who may the lady be who sits on his right?" " That, sir, is Lady Susan Harding-one of our hitrh when h. vofce and^ rctu^ a^^^rilLl ^S ■ Whit ° V ".'" ''"'" ''■S'"'>' ^P""^-" °f ? ■ Th=r- t X?"''^'' '■"''^'' ''°"' °"« "'ith the diamonds ? fXr:J^^Sstd^-J^^^^^^^^^^ *s s 3he. his wife. Wefl. Tt^ shTmayTe^ fht Z?'^ "'°"'*"' uncommon kind to the Lo!' Shes no flighty body like the rest of 'em. But sheTa Pap.t, sir-thafs the only fault I have to find I th her Wh" / ^° ^^'' """^ S:et rid of the Prinr... behte:'L':r^i:t'" ^°"''^' ^ Blackheath-s-h; i.mt 33^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. .,1 s, Simon was in no mood to hear of the delinquencies of the Pnncess of Wales ; so, thanking his informant for the civility he had shown him, he drew back, and fixed his eyes again on the curtain of the royal box. But she who sat behind it gave no further sign of life; and by-and-bye, shortly before the play ended, Simon made his way into the air again, taking up his position near the box entrance. Standing back a little from the Grecian portico, so that the light from the lamps should not fall across his face, he watched eagerly for the appearance of Rachel. Presently there came a tramping of feet, a rustling of skirts, a hum of voices; and the company began to pour Tiu u^t^' """"^ ''"^° ^^^ semi-circular space in front of the building, chairmen crowded towards the doorway link-boys shrieked themselves hoarse. All at once, with a start, Simon recognised Rachel's voice and bending forward, saw her emerge into the portico leaning on the arm of a young man with a particulari; well-formed and graceful figure. Several other gentlemen pressed round her, one carrying her fan, another a glove, another officiously uplifting the trailing end of .r.r ,^^' ^^^^ ^^' ^"'"^^ ^^^>' ^'^^ Simon, so hood '^^ "°^^'"^ ""^ ^^' ^^'^ ^'"^^^^ *^' '^^^'" " I wonder, indeed," observed the gentleman on whose arm she leaned, "that a young lady so remarkable for delicacy and elegance as Miss Charnock can condescend to enter this clumsy, old-fashioned carriage of Lady Susans when the distance is short ,ough to be traversed with ease in a sedan." o„T.^^'/°" T' """ ^'' '^'^^y' ^'- B'-^mmel, after our late hours last night ; and we are also hungry I vow . could eat no dinner for thinking of the nlL .nH her ladyship was in so crabbed a temper that^ she"ate YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^^^ H«le':fgo0t ■ ' "°"' ^' "' '" '^'^^ '° ^ ''-<> *° our Mr' ^Bn,L"°, '''.P'"T."'°"' "^ ''""^ '"^''^"'." '«t"^ned • ftooerlvT • ;\ ^" '°^-P-''^hed. musical voice. Properly trained chairmen could carry you home quite jer^rrMt'^ch" 'Y S-' """<-. hot:: yonaer. rray, Miss Charnock, why does not Ladv Susan select cattle with a little mo're breell about " It is possible that Lady Sukey goes so fast in other directions that she is obliged to slacken the pace some where," chimed in the elaborately dressed man wh^ was holding Rachel's fan. ■. But come, Brummel, you Te surely jesting. No two-legged beast, howeve; wdl h" may be trained, can get over the ground as quickly as a four-legged one Cnrnp T'li k.* 4"«-Kiy as a own fcll„ !) ' °^' >'°" ^ P°"y that your own fellows do not convey your chair to Lady Susan Harding's house before her vehicle reaches it.'^ Done ! cried Brummel ; " I will send for my chair ra^ tw ^- Sh^'"f 'l^-^'^ '"^^" descendinV the wn L ? . " '°° ^^'" ^ ^O"^' "( '^Port to be un- m ng to wait a moment or two until we can put the Z r 'V\''''- ' f^-d ">eant to walk home^o the Pav hon by the west entrance with Big Ben, but I fancv Benma sups with him to-night. She looks gll and 'I have no mind to be one of the party " woma„""\'"rru *' g"°d-looking, much-bedizened woman, who had been pointed out to Simon as Lady busan Harding, made her appearance, and the little party gathered round her. " You'll allow me, your ladyship," drawled the gentle- man before alluded to, "to put my pony to your coach? e,u,>re."'°" " "'" '"' '" *^ ^^P"'*'- °f yo- " Thank you, Mr. Stanhope," returned Lady Susan 22 if m h 33^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. With a loud jolly laugh, " my coach can do without your pony ; but if you like to add a monkey to our load, we shall be glad to welcome you to supper— perhaps 'you too, Mr. Brummel, would like to join our party. Come as many as like— I will feed you first and play with you afterwards," •' Pray, pray, my dear Lady Susan, have some pity on our pockets," cried Mr. Brummel ; " mine is considerably the lighter for our long sitting at your house last night But come, I see your ladyship is quite at a loss to know what we are driving at with these ponies of ours You must know Lincoln, here, bets that my sedan, carried by my two strapping fellows, will not reach your house before your ladyship's carriage-both starting fair from the same point." " And do you mean to say, Mr. Brummel, that you have so poor an opinion of my horses as to make such a wager ? " ^^ " Madam," said the beau, with superb effrontery ^ were I to tell you my candid opinion of your charm- ing self, and everything that belongs to you, you would most probably rebuke me for indiscretion. But here is my chair. Now, who will see fair ? Tommy Onslow, you are a competent authority on all matters connected with pace, you will do it." ^ An odd-looking, stout little man, who had been stand- mg somewhat apart from the others, chewing a toothpick which somehow seemed as if it ought to have been a straw-for even in evening dress Lord Cranley contrived to look horsey-nodded assent and stepped forward signing to the chairmen to place themselves in line with the carriage. Mr. Stanhope assisted Lady Susan to enter the equipage, and Brummel was about to do the same for Rachel, when she suddenly ^vo^^coed -> -J-^-.--- to inspect the famous chair. She advanced so llosTll \\(r ed so close to YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. the spot where her husband stood that by stretchine out a hand he could have touched her H» i T u f stood as though turned to s one but a r', , I'" forward he drew a long breath "" '^""^ "Why, Mr. Brummel," she cried gaily, "what luxury what extravagance I 'Ti'c aii r j • , , Juxury, »=i\t;: *,j-r' ■'-"'** ■•b,'.'t hn'"' t'n°,"™''''''-''^'''s''"^'l'"'-eh"-ned Brummel ■ .. ,?. ^^" ' '■^''* Lady Susan's ? " ' .. vvh'; P?" "'","''" ""^ P'*'^'^ '■" «>e coach." What ! ejaculated he, " climb up all those steps and t m angu,sh when they are drawn up after me fear!ne mem ? Miss Charnock, my nerves are shattered after our d,ss,pat,on of last night-can you be so cruel as to condemn me to such a penance ?" " And can you be so ungallant as to refuse to frratifv Z Tee't" so td" "^ ''-''■ '"^^ "^^ never fanefuS your 'Prl M "« "' T"^^' '"^^ ^"^'^ •"=>" "P°" coach?" '^' • ^■■""""''' '^'' >">" "ever enter a are' terribw'h' V ?, 'jr"'"^ ^''^ '"■ °"' coachbuilders are terribly behmd the age. Why cannot they invent -teps that would fold up outside ? " a„d Jf-''^ ''° "u' ^"" ""' y°"' ■"'■gh'y ''"tellect to work . d bnng out the patent >.ourself ? ■' retorted she. ■ B^t Urn gomg m your sedan, Mr. Brummel : pray help me In another moment she was seated ,mor-. "- ^v & fiw ifc?'*! 340 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Stop, Stop ! " cried the umpire. '* It was understood that Brummel was to be carried in his own chair. He must be as heavy again as Miss Charnock." " Rachel ! " screamed Lady Susan, with her head out of the coach window, " come here instantly ! I'll not stand this piece of buffoonery. What have you to do with Mr. Brummel's chair ? " " Why, I mean to sit in it, tl;at'.- all ! " said Rachel with a s-ucy nod and wave oi the hand. " Deuce take me if it's fair though I " -riec Lincoln Stanhope. *• Stanhope, my boy, I am surprised at such unseemly agitation," remarked Brummel. "I beg to observe, Cranley, that till now there h^.s been no stipulation made as to tl.e person vho is to occupy the chair. Surely, if Miss Charnock VvisL-s it, she js entitled to do so. ' 1 do wi^h it," asserted Rachel, and, leaning forward, jhe sHKled upon the by-standers with magical effect! 'Ihere was another murmur, but this time of approval and applause. "Come," cried Lady Susan -mpatiently, "I for one cannot stay here all night. If that obstinate little cat refuses to accompany me you had better come, Mr. Brummel, and you too. Tommy. At least I shall be able to keep my eye upon you and see that you do not bribe my coachman." She had already recovered her good -humour, and her ringing laugh was heard as Lord Cranley climbed into the vehicle, followed by Mr. Brummel, who uttered a groan of disgust as the steps were drawn up after him. Cranley, removing his toothpick, leaned solemnly out of the window : — ** Are vou readv mf^n ? " hf» n-iVrl « rif.f ft.« -,u-,.„ :^4.„ position, and start as soon as I whistle." ^1 ill (( YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,-, Pray, Brown," screamed Lady Susan, "whin ud your horses as soon as his lordship whist es. By^he^ hTe arat"'^^ "''" "^ ^°" ^"'"^ ^ <^°' Will ^t .J/ytr^jer-di^.s^^sr rr:r:r r Bru^^el. .Hows and .assure ^^^^^J!^^ The chairmen took up their burden. Lady Susan's P blind r '""1 "''^ "'"P- '^' footmfn sprang up behind ; and presently Lord Cranley, with his head st.ll protruding from the window, gave utterance to . s" r C' Zf iTh 'T """""''^ '^^ ~ °f street boy. Off set the chair with its light occuoant W'fllr tt\'° "'''• It ^=""^ thelhipTn'the norses Hanks, the heavy vehicle being, nevertheless ^ct under we,gh with difficulty ; Lincoln Stanhope' io^e swmgmg trot kept him abreast of the sedan and , it? crowd of dandies followed with as much pld as h ^ ght^fitung pantaloons and evening shoes'would 1" Ion of h T""'^ °'" °f °"^ ^'"^"^ i" objur- gation of her coachman, whose utmost efforts failed to persuade the horses to proceed at more than a joe trll pace, and " Tommy Onslow " still leaned out of the other So:;: tT'r'"'"'''' ^' '^■•^ -^^--y ^ -- corner the h"' "."^ '''''''' ^'^^eared round the corner, the sedan hav ng swun? out of o;„i,f moments previously ; the found of'the heavy fofs^a^d the pattenng feet, the voices and laughter did awav^n ■e distance, and Simon was left alonl He sto'd ^^il ^wever, for some time longer : when Rachel hid lea 'ed a ndX '°''^'^^""-- he had seen her smlg ace and the remembrance of it was like . d=.<.~, 4 If 342 I i'. I CHAPTER XXXI. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, Thou dost not bite so nigh As benefits forgot : Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As friend remember' d not. —Shakespeare. Simon had not dared to call on Bertha Gifford on the preceding night : he feared to startle her by suddenly appearing at so late an hour ; but as soon as he could with decency present himself on the following morning he made his way to the address given in her letter. The Giffbrds had taken a good-sized house overlooking the Pavilion Parade, and the door was opened by a servant m handsome livery. Mrs. Gifford was not at home, he said, mistaking Simon's inquiry, and Mr. Gifford had left Brighton some time before. " I asked for Miss Gifford," said Simon quietly. " If she happens to be at home, I think she will receive me. Have the kindness to tell her that Simon Fleetwood wishes to speak with her." The man withdrew and presently returned. Request- ing the yeoman to follow he ushered him into a large drawing-room on the first floor, where Bertha stood awaiting him. " Cousin Simon ! " she cried as he entered. " I am glad to see you ; but what brings you to Brighton ? I did indeed expect a letter from you, but " "Why," interrupted Simon, grasping her hand, "a -Shakespeare. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 343 letter would have been of no use. I thought it better to come myself." ^ "But what good can you do, Cousin? Did Mrs Charnock send you?" "No, indeed. I did not mention the matter to her fearmg to cause her useless distress. I thou-ht it best to come-I had to come ; but now that I am here I wonder with you what good I can do." Bertha looked inquiringly into his white face ; the eves were sunken after a sleepless night, and there were lines about the mouth which she had never hitherto seen She drew a long breath. She had given up all her foT'this ^°"^ ^^° ' ^"^ '^^ ^^"^ "°^ ^^^" P'^P^'^^ ;' He loves Rachel-he loved her all the time," she said to herself « It was Rachel ! " She turned a shade paler, and her lips quivered almost imperceptibly " Since you are here, Simon," she said, and her voice, ^o, trembled, " you will surely be able to do something. Does— does Rachel know of your attachment to her? " "Oh yes," he returned, almost with a groan "she knows." ' "And does she," pursued Bertha, still with that pathetic quiver in voice and lip, " does she too love v u Simon?" ' " I fear she has ceased to love me now." Bertha walked over to the fire-place, where in spite of the bright spring sunshine the piled-up logs crackled merrily ; she stretched out her hands to the blaze, and shivered as though she were cold. Simon could not have seen her face even if he had tried : he stood where she had left him with his eyes fixed gloomily on the ground In characteristic fashion he had failed to take note of -ert^.as discuinposure ; and had he observed it would most probably have attributed it to any reason rather" w ill 344 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. '^ \ U:(. than the true one. The disclosures made long ago bv Rachel, which at the time had caused him such dis quietude had no-.v faded completely from his mind It IS difficult perhaps for even the most humble-minded of women to refrain from wondering, when she meets the man who has once loved her, if he does not love her still ; but many a man standing in the very presence of ner v'uo uus loved him best, who will love him lon<^cst ^^:Tt ^ • she has loved him at all. Simon forgot W Bertna had loved him. and remembered only hat she was h,s own flesh and blood, that she was gentle and teji^der, and that it was sweet to turn to some one in his "Bertha," he said, "I saw Rachel last night. She was coming from the play-house ; and the gallants were pressing round her, and she leaned upon the arm of one Mr.^ Brummel, who is, I suppose, a leader of fashion '' He leads the fashion everywhere," put in Bertha. 1 heir talk was very foolish," he went on ; " but she joined in it, and laughed and seemed to like it. Bertha she does not seem to suffer at all. Is it not strange ^hat she should not suffer when I suiTer su iriuch ? " The morning must have been very chilly, for BerU . shivered again and be it more closely over the Ire " It IS certainly very strange, Cousin," she said • '« verv Tlf- "r^'''; '' " °"^ - ^^^ --^^ extraordinar hings in h.e tiiat one person should love so much, and suffer so keenly, an I another should feel-nothing » " b. ^spo.e pass, nately, but presently wei ' on in an altered tone^ " I do not say. however, that Rachel feels happy" " '^'"^-^ '^° ""' ^^^"^ '^^ '' ^--lly "She was laughir .ery gaily wher> the^ carried her ^''^^' said Si " "' • - UVVii^ )imon. " 1 hey had mac J a w ager, and YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ,45 they carried her away in this Brummel's sedan-chair. It was by her own v^h-but I was surprised I did not th.nk that Rache, .Id have lent herself to suhhing^ the slie« 1 "' '"" '° """"'PPy °"- »' being made the subjec of a wager. She must indeed be changed And yet I cannot feel that all this folly is more than "He'rai"^-'"!;" T' ''^'=''^' '^ "^ '^-h'^' ^ health "I mut T'l"' ^^°^^<^ *^ -°'" '<> 'he Hearth. I mu..t speak w,th her, Bertha," he aid " I us"her:T" ''°"'- *'" '"" ^""'"-^ --«n^ ^ol »nH"^ T," 1°°'"'"^ '^°"'" ^^'^"^^y "P°" Bertha's face and suddenly saw it glov with colour, but never knew that ,t^was not the heat of the fire which had called up at 'heHo^ng ''It-^J^'y '^^^^'^^^ " ^e inquired, wondering " A little difficult, perhaps," said Bertha ; " but it may Rihti rrtoufe^ "rs^^-'t' r '-' ™^ -' ■nuch as he oncetld her^^HeTnd ^^^1- wllt:: foooke are never done abusing her. There were some h h S-r1r:;""^^ P""''" ^"out her some time ago ool wf h ^ 'f ' '° ""y '''°'^"- «"d ^^'hich Edwafd took w,th h,m to London. Indeed, I fear Rachel his m2enem,es: her own cous..,, who should by righ was 1 f„ : ^ ^^""""/"^ "-^^ '•'■ght," thought Simon. " It his h. 2 'V:'' r ''"' ""'' "^^' '"'^"""^ '^^P-- Per haps he obt,imed it from Edward Gifford " it polibli"haTr""r ' '°°' P°"" ' °'" ' '™ ^ how was r';?' ?^°*^^ °^ " =P'-'"g-like bloom and freshness. ^.. .0 leht ofTr f *" "' ""■ '"''■^"'' '""""^ themselvesin the Ight of her mnocent eyes, shou' 1 be the first to defam. I , r 346 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I her ? And one of these men had called himself her lover- one was actually her kinsman! V.hile he stood thus gloomily musing, Bertha glanced up suddenly " I will do my best to help you, Cousin. I will try and arrange a meeting for you and Rachel this evening when my mother has retired. My mother is in verv delicate health, and I think the emotion of seeing you might be too much for her. I will not tell her that you are here. Do you wish me to let Rachel know wh- 1 she will meet here, or shall I merely ask her to spend the even g without entering into particulars ? " Simon took a hurried turn up and down the room I fear me, Bertha, that if she thought to see me she would not come." " Then I will say nothing," said Bertha. " I wMl des patch a note at once ; will you not wait, Cousin, until the answer comes ? The messenger will return in less than an hour. Simon agreed, and the cousins passed the time of waiting 11; conversation on more general topics. Bertha had now quite regained her self-possession, and found a curious pleasure in his company. When the longed-for note arrived she handed it to him with a little smile "All IS well: she has promised to come. She will slip away after dinner, she says, when Lady Susan is engaged with her friends." And as she marked the sudden lighting-up of SimotVs face her own was irradiated too, with a joy that was purely unselfish. After all she could work for him ; she could help him It might be given to her to bring back to him his lost happiness : there was comfort in the thought Presently he took his leave, promising to return a little before the hour at which Rachel was to make her appearance. But he was destined to see his wife sooner than iie looked for. nself her lover- he stood thus Hdenly. sin. I will try el this evening ther is in very I of seeing you 2II her that you cnowwh( n she r to spend the n the room. t to see me she '■• " I w'll des- ousin, until the rn in less than d the time of opics. Bertha n, and found a the longed-for ttle smile, me. She will -ady Susan is up of Simon's lat was purely m ; she could ig back to him le thought, r to return a to make her is wife sooner YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^^^ ^hf rT^^''^'"""^ "^^^'^ ^° ^^t^^iay, sir, interposed Brummel • '« t imagine that such an unmanne"rfei,ow isTkelTt^ on .ntnnate terms with Miss Charnoc" ' ^ '° "^ Kachel's glance had wavered bpn^afh c- gaze, and he thought he saw L. r ^^""?" ' ^'■^^"' visible effort she now raised h.r '" ' """ ™* " him full in the fLe '^■'' '^""' ''"'' '""l^^d "There is a mistake" she <;pi'r? . << ^u misled by appearances. ' ItTs pos^bu tw ^ ""''" '^ him of another Rachel wh^h: kne v but^eTr'n' assured that I am quite another perTo^ ' ' "'" ""^ Again she would have passed nn Knf ' • ,. her drawing so near this'tt 'thTt 'h/,rn^ bfr"* he should touch hen ^''''^ ^^^^ "I am not deceived," he said fn n i^ may be that 1 know you better than vou t ™"'- " " LT^ 1 /w« ucLLcr man you know vour'jf=')r" sudtnly'd art fdTas 'L'"°'^^ "T' '°°'^' ^"^ ">- an. iaug^hing theCoL' part;;:rs'tr:Lrn^"'' --"^ of 1;rc"urtu°s l^of °"^'', ™°"=" '° "^^ ^--^■. oblivious -Bee::^c:a::rstr,r:::L-;;;a^ ;erLd^,y^r^hn:rf:r-Vt^- d-sld, had sft'ieat-lg'ba'r rre^^ortr'^f ''"'^''^. the rustic high-backed seats or ' set L • h f n"!, "' .0, her face half screened byCr fr^ed^^artor Tit ->ai party passed on she had lowered this and w.V ""'' bend,„gforward.earnest,yco„sideringthe^o::g~: 350 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ■ I'IRHHI I Something familiar in her face, as well as the anxious almost pleading query in her gaze, arrested his attention' He paused, hesitated, but, as the lady apparently in confusion turneo away her head, he came to the con- clusion that he had been mistaken in supposing she wished to address him, and walked on, soon forgetting the little incident in the overwhelming sense of his own misery. Actuated merely by the desire to escape from this vapid throng, he bent his steps towards the bottom of the Steine, and presently found himself near the Alcove, a small summer-house, at that moment deserted. Throwing himself upon a bench he sat gazing drearily seawards endeavouring to collect his thoughts, and to fix upon some definite plan of action. Rachel had publicly denied him— what result would he hope to gain from the projected interview that evening? She had looked him full m the face, and deliberately refused to acknowledge so much as acquaintanceship with him— and yet—and yet— those bright eyes of hers had for a moment drooped before his, the proud lip had quivered, when he had first accosted her. At this point his meditations were interrupted by the entrance of two persons, whom at first sight Simon identified as belonging to the order of beings which he had of late learnt to detest most cordially. They were indeed, dandies of the very first water, and close imitators of their leader, Mr. Brummel. Lolling on the seat at some little distance from the yeoman they attracted his attention to their discourse by invoking the name of their patron saint. " Brummel ! By sir I 'tis not Brummel : George .s too old a bird to be caught even with such temptin^r chaff. No, sir, George would never commit h.mspif with a penniless damsel, no matter how pretty she may I YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. )mmit himsf'lf takes dewn/h go^lnr^kerrLsrv^ won't accept hfm. But this gM J n ^^ believe she-d jump at him ! ■• " "'^' "'^"> ' " He loolfs monstrous sour if =f.o »,n ,. thoug:.. I myself have 1?h ^' '° ''">' °"^ ^'-^^ reph-ed the oSe youne IT' '""'"'^'^^ °' "'^'■" n«ie smir. which s^si^To^inroori^r Ts^r how he ,mag,ned they were spealal Hi.hn t^soT"' f"" '^'^"^^'^ """^^ '"<« and he'dub" 'm s Fi^ B^nmf 'Ihr' '"" ^f"'^ '''"■ between those two. . pfomiry^u"^ We^a 7 '°-^' Hr!f4!'^?:,.":'f Y-P-- ^-' ^ecla:d"'th:mse,v:r -tigh.-L:s;^d-i;:\fr^-r-- J 352 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. usual, and drinks somewhat more. And then he is bled — that with him is the infallible sign that the passion is serious. It is said in Lady Jersey's day he was bled four times in twenty-four hours — sends for different doctors, you know, so that there may be no refusal on account of his having been cupped before." ** Gad ! " ejaculated the other, " what a senseless thing to do 1 I can understand a little blood-letting being soothing to the feelings, but d n me, I prefer it to be another man's. So Mrs. Fitz does not love our friend?" " No, truly ; as little as she loves Fox himself. She had a personal grievance against him — aye, I've heard her say he rolled her in the gutter." "In the gutter ? " returned the other young fop, dropping his jaw with so liewildered an air that his friend burst out laughing. " Why, what a blessed babe — too innocent for this naughty world ! Surely, Charley, you have heard of Fox's famous speech in the House, when he declared that Mrs. Fitz not only wasn't, but shouldn't, couldn't, and wouldn't, by any possibility, ever be the Prince's wife. But, bless me, 'tis a good many years ago — you were scarce weaned then. Well, he said so, and the poor lady, who they say has got her marriage lines laid by in safety somewhere, took it mighty ill, and has never forgiven him. She dislikes Brummel for a different cause. She thinks he leads the pretty little Royal dear into mischief. Why, my boy, 'tis he who introduced him to the lovely Charnock!" Simon had been listening uneasily to this conversation, now telling himself that his supposition that the two men were alluding to Rachel was merely the effect of his diseased fancy, now turning sick with the dread that she had indeed made herself so notorious in that accursed place that her name was in every one's mouth. At the actual sound of this name he sprang to his feet, and was kSiffi '-'-fi'i. then he is bled the passion is y he was bled s for different J no refusal on • senseless thing d-letting being [ prefer it to be ve our friend ? " himself. She aye, I've heard ler young fop, m air that his nocent for this 2 heard of Fox's :lared that Mrs. 't, and wouldn't, ife. But, bless 5 scarce weaned y, who they say ety somewhere, ven him. She She thinks he :hief. Why, my ely Charnock!" is conversation, lat the two men le effect of his ; dread that she 1 that accursed nouth. At the is feet, and was YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ^^. on the point of angrily taking the two speakers to task for their impertmence, when a shadow suddenly fell across the sunht entrance to the enclosure, and the young gentlemen simultaneously rose ^ in \lnlu °^ '^' '^""'^'' ^' ^'"'^ °"^ °^ ^hem mutter ; and n another moment a lady crossed the threshold and looked inquiringly around. bn!'tr '^' T^ ^""^^ "^"'" ^^'"^^^ ^'^^ before noticed ; but the recent conversation had given him a clue, and he now recalled when and where he had previously seen her. It was in the Prince's '' box " the night before. Thi^ dignified, sweet-faced lady was no other than Mrs Fitzherbert herself. She bowed to the two friends a little coldly, responded quie ly to some trivial observation which they made and nally sat down. The dandies took a respectful lea;e of her,and swaggered away, arm i.i arm ; and then she turned fixing once more her beautiful mournful eyes on Simon' ^Wl w. HI W-< 23 354 CHAPTER XXXII. Thou art alone (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, Obeying in commanding, and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out) The queen of earthly queens. —Shakespeare. For a full minute Yeoman Fleetwood and the lady, who, if report said truly, was the true wife of the Heir to the Throne, sat gazing earnestly at each other. Then Simon, removing his hat, rose, and said respectfully :— " You wish to speak to me, madam ? " " Yes, sir," she answered a little tremulously ; " I would fain exchange a word or two with you." She paused, gazing once more appealingly at Simon with her anxious eyes. Very beautiful eyes they were : brown and soft, yet full of light — eyes so celebrated in their time that the art of the famous miniature painter Cosway was enlisted in the portrayal of one of them. Their gaze was troubled now, and her whole face clouded, but when she spoke her sympathy seemed all for Simon. " I am sorry to perceive, sir, that you are in distress. I infer that you are new to this place ; but I have been an interested observer of your meeting with a young lady who is very well known here. Is she also, may 1 ask, well known to you ? " Simon drew himself up a little stiffly, for he could scarce brook this fingering of his wound, however light and sympathetic might be the touch. )usly ; " I would VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "f enirr"'°'"'V''' '^"^y '^'^'P^'' her hands. I entreat you to be frank with me : my only wish is intiiSy"- H^rherict r- 4--^ '°"^' /• lias ner conduct always been sjirh == you, her friend, approve of?" oeen such as "Madam," returned Simon with gathering indignation I have known her ever since she was born ^To me Tl^eT^H r^' ,1" ''^-"■^ «-' °f women." The lady s lip curled impatiently quilkt" '"st '"' ' ''";^""' ^'"'J- '^--." ^"e cried scarce^hink h ;?"™r^''' ^^ '"'^ companions as I scarce think her well-wishers would choose for her She ttron^ .ra'';it^"lL^°"T"°"^ '- -- -' ^ -eyes.kindl-g\^nT;he"X^":tf-^ and that precious boon of youth " oraer— .',' !""''" "^y- ■"^'i^"' ? " inquired Simon sternly ~The';r::tr^^- ■^'^'-t '^-^^' ch-oI' ht ment " r h ,^ ' , "'^'' "'"' '"creasing excite- wome^of my;:?ilTf7ra'- J "" T'^'"' '^'^ of the hour LZ ^ ~^y^' ' '>''™ l^iown the favourite to desoil ,! ^ 7T °''^"' ">"" '"y^^'f- ' can afford afthey ™ m • '',"1 "'^ """'"^ "^"^ '"emselves which ltr.hv":'' ^"°^'"S *^" 'l'^' ">e heart to 2 t'!^^!."^f "5"^ ' -^'^i^-the only rightful claim-" a"briefroirr.'^'''T''''^ ""*' ''"' "^"^ered from me for fnef space, and will return to mc, full of remorse and if! 35^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. renewed fondness. But this girl ! No actress this, no harridan, a lady as well born as myself and j/oun^- / Oh, is it not base to compete with me for the affections which are mine in the sight of God and man ? How can I hold my ground when she takes the field ? She, with that exquisite bloom, that freshness, that young gaiety and archness — everything is forgotten at sight of her— all that should be held most dear, most sacred." Simon's indignation, which had increased during the first part of this speech, had suddenly subsided ; the gaze which he turned on the agitated face was full of compassionate concern. " You may trust me, madam," he said in a low voice, " though you are not such a stranger to me as you think ; I know who your are, and I can feel for you," Mrs. Fitzherbert drew back with a suprised and haughty glance; she was by nature a proud woman, and in spite of the many vicissitudes, the enforced humiliations, of her chequered career, she was a proud woman still. The blunt speech of this young countryman confounded and offended her ; and she was, moreover, displeased with herself for the involuntary outburst which had called forth such a rejoinder. But when, fixing his kindly eyes upon her, Simon repeated with the utmost simplicity and sincerity 1 he assurance of his sympathy, she was disarmed. This was a strange man, but, as she instinctively felt, a good and true one. After a moment's pause she extended her hand to him with a pretty, gentle dignity, and all at once smiled : she had a peculiarly charming smile, bright and sweet ; dimples played about her mouth the while, and her eyes, hitherto so mournful, laughed too. Looking at her thus one divined the fascination which had so long held captive the usually fickle heart of her princely partner. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. ..y abrupt, but I believe that you mean well. Since you know me, I must .• o know you. Pray, tellme your name and where you come from " " My name, madam, is Simon Fleetwood. I am a yeoman by b.rth, and I come from Lancashire, from^he neighbourhood of Charnleieh Hall iu„ u '.""' ^n^ bp^iHp - .k.i ru ,'f' 8" "^"- My home is close bes,de .chel Charnock's, and we have known each other all our lives." "Ah and you have come here doubtless to see her? Poor fellow ! I witnessed the manner of your meetin/ Nevertheless, you have influence with the girl-rsaw ft .n her face to-day Listen to me, sir: tffce her away red^het""''"' r" f™^ '' °"^^- ^he has alr^dy rumed the happmess of others, she will ruin herself unless somethmg ,s done speedily. You love her I see h unworthy as she is of any good man's love-and LmZ Ltef y^^oT"*^' '-' ^" '-' '-'''"-- ^'^ --e " Madam," cried Simon, suddenly in a white heat « I W.I not hear her spoken of thus. ,f she has rashly 'pu a^inst th '''r\"'^" .*=• She has been more sinned agamst than she has smned. Oh, madam," he cried pacmg up and down the little enclosure with great aS tafon, for the lady's chance words had raised within hfm uch a tumult of love and hope, wrath and self re^ oa ^ h,nk of ,t! She was a child, all innocence, all trust- he knew nothmg of the ways of the world- carce an v th.ng of life itself She owes her present plight to "h^ sell5sh pass,on of a man who should have known better W" "f H ^'""'^^^ "''''' inexperience, who abjsed h^ power, who, mough by his very birth cut off from her «as base enough to press a suit that could but wreck I?? 1 II) f I I 358 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I ml her life. My eyes are opened now at last ' Oh, horrible selfishness — vile cruelty I " " Sir ! " cried the lady, rising in her turn, and di wing up to its full height a fi-ure which, though no very tall, conve\ed at times an impression of dignity and majesty, and never more so than at this moment. " Sir I you forget to whom you are peaking ; you insult me. Knowing as you do my cir-unis'ances, do you dare to speak thus of the Prince in my hearing ? " " The Prince ! " ejaculated Simon, gazing at her in amazement. " Nay, madam, I was not speakin? of the Prince." " Of whom, then ? " she burst forth, her colour still coming and going quickly, and lier eyes aflame. " Madam," said Simon, dropping his eyes, " I spoke of myself." The surprised revulsion of feeling, was so great that Mrs. Fitzherbert laughed outright ; then, composing her features, she gazed incredulously at the yeom.wi. "You!" she cried. "Nay, friend, your face belies you if you have ever wilfully wronged a woman." " Oh, madam," cried he, " is not a woman wronged by being urged into an unequal marriage? I gauged her nature by my own— I withheld the truth from her— my love was so great I thought it made all between us even ; but I see now that I was wrong." At the first impetuous words Mrs. Fitzherbert had started as though stung ; she now looked at Simon, with the colour deepening in her face, in a manner which would have seemed to him inexplicable had he not been wholly occupied with his own concerns. " She was such a child," he went on in a voice of passionate regret ; " she did not undei stand the nature of the rnnfrarf infr» tirViJrV* ^.V*** ..r^o ^^*. — :— _ t _:i i -i i. _,.- ....... rr,,.!.,i jiic wcio t-iiLCij.iy. i siiouiu iiaVc opened her eyes ; I should have made sure that she knew t ' Oh, horrible YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jjg What she was doing, t! t she realised the consequences Oh, she saould never have been suffered to take such a ^ep-tj,ere should have been no irregularity about l. He seemed to have forf ■„ Mrs. Fitzf erberfs ,resenc_ but she now recal' i it to him by toucHng him lightly <,ii the arm. ^ "You iuterest me very much, Mr. Fleetwoon " she sa.d; 'more than I can say. Let me hear the whole story, I beg you. From the hints vou have dropped I fancy-r gather it is in many respects like-w.H it'i help and befnend you. mor. perhaps than you think of. Do you really n„ , ^ay that Rachel Charnock IS actually your wife? wmniocK Thus adjured, and enc .raged by her very real concern and sy„,pathy Simon told his tale; the lady lemngn evident emotion and now and then inteLptii.g him by a little interjection or a deep sigh At its conclusion silence fell between them, broken only by the leaping of the waves upon the beach. Mrs" F,t.,herbert sat gazing out to sea. her brows knit an parcntly lost m thought, and poor Simon, his transitofy ^atemen passed, relapsed int.. his former deject ^^^ What a pitiful entanglement was this-each day seemed nlilet" *^.P°^^"""'>' "f — '""g -t more Tnd more unlikely. His companion's voice broke in suddenly upon his gloomy thoughts. suaaenly •■ Your story, Mr. Fleetwood, moves me deeply ■ [ can TuX "' '"''■ '-'''''■ ""'- '""y '"- -^ -•>- Simon turned iiis heavy eyes upon her in surprise and then it suddenly flashed upon him that there was' m many respects a certain resemblance between his own situation and that of the unfortunate lady at his MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1^ ■ 56 12.8 3.2 3.6 114.0 2.5 [ 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ ^PLIED IM^GE inc '653 East Main Street Rochester, New York 14609 USA (716) 482 - OMO - Phone (716) 288-5989 -Fax 360 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Side Both he, the yeoman, and she, the noble dame had fixed their affections too high for happiness ; each was secretly bound to a mate upon whom in the eyes of the world they had no claim ; both had most suffered where they had most loved. The nearer each was to the attamment of his or her dearest hope the better it would be for the other. They had, above all, one thin., in common-a great and wholly disinterested love. Mrs Fitzherbert had refused with scorn the titles and emolu- ments with which the Prince and his party sought to endow her : her attachment to the man who had so grievously tried her patience being entirely personal bimon as we know, had no keener desire than to devote himself and all his substance to the service of his lady • his wish had been, not to raise himself to her sphere' but to make her content in his. ' "We have, indeed, common interests at stake," said Mrs. Pitzherbert, putting his thoughts into words. " In helping each other, we help ourselves. Come, sir, do not look so doleful. This revelation of yours gives me much hope. If we work together we must achieve our end. " I would that I could hope," said Simon ; "bi.t you yourself saw, madam, how she passed me by I am to meet her to-night at my cousin's house, yet I fear that ittle good will come of the interview. She is too proud to go back upon her word." "Nay, I have no patience with such pride as that" cried the other angrily. " When a woman solemnly vow's to take a certain man for her husband, and to cleave to him till death, is there no perjury, think you, in revoking such a pledge ? " ^ Simon was about to speak, but she checked him quickly " Good Heavens ! how can she esteem herself relcHsed from the sacredness of such a vow ? She is YEOMAN H.EETWOOD. 361 " uTf. ^'" '■' '■■•^«^°«bly bound to you ; aye and would be had you betrayed her confidence in ar gmver her wori. S-'-' T "T^- '°^^°°"'- '° SO backVpon her word ! S.r, does she realise the meaning of the mamage vow, ' For better, for worse, for richer for poorer .n health and in sickness-till death 'Wht though the marriage was, as you say irregular til mtention was there, the solemn prom^e SiTnd; ^nVe^trbltlJ.^' "-' — -y -'- '"« Her cheeks were flushed, and she breathed quickly • aspect "aT; irT'-r'"'' ''''" -""'■•" "- aspect. Aye, through evil repute and good repute a woman should cleave to her husband," she said "^ fear times. When tned almcst beyond endurance let her comfort herself still with the reflection that she s do.nr. her duty, fulfilling the Will of God. Tha si IfZ It, should be a woman's pride." ' Simon was silent, for he knew that she spoke more n reference to herself than to Rachel. When rum^u ! had formerly reached him of Mr.s. Fit.herberf rXn to the Pnnce of Wales after the banishment of Pr ncess Carolme. S.mon had, like many others, wondered and condemned . but now he could feel nothing bufcom pass,on and respect for the brave woman who n C determmafon to fulfil her wifely duty, had defi^ the world. W,fe, no doubt, she was, if the marriage ceremonv could make her one; and if she had been rasTin 01 such all.ances mere amorou,. freaks of inflammable prmcelmgs. surely she might be excused for the hope that the same anfhr^r.-H, „,k:.u u_., , . i-ne nope statutes c^uld be induced to annul them. Be ci she considered herself irrevocably bou that as it might nd to the man III 362 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. whom she had taken as her husband ; she had the courage to obey a higher law than those so easily made and broken, the law of her own conscience — God's law. But while Simon gazed at her kindly and pityingly, she threw him a glance that was at once nrnnd and scornful. " As for you, sir," she cried, " have you no sense of your responsibilities ? Did not you vow to cherish and protect your wife ? Yet in your pique you would abandon her to her own resources. I tell you, sir, I hold you scarcely less guilty in having condoned her abandonment of you ". The blood mounted to Simon's brow. " I had not looked on the matter in that light," he sa'M. " I tell you, you must assert yourself ; for her own good you must coerce her," went on Mrs. Fitzherbert eagerly. " In the interests of morality, as well as in your own interests and hers, you should make known your marriage. The announcement would have great effect in removing the dangers which surround her. Some of her admirers would be piqued at her concealment of the fact — others again would lose their interest in the leader of fashion, who is, after all, but a simple yeoman's wife." *' I am indeed sick of concealment," he murmured in a low voice. " Yet I should be loath to bring her to shame and confusion. Oh, if she could but be induced of her own accord to own me as her husband ! Well, I will try what I can do to \t." The lady shrugged her ^i ..ulders. " Are you so weak," she cried, " that when your duty stares you in th - face you shrink from it? Do what is right, sir, and take the consequences. And now I must leave you. Let us not lose sight of each other. I beg, sir, that you will make known to me the result of this interview — you will easily find mv house, and if you will send in your name, I shall time." happ} receive you at any YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 3^3 she had the )0 easily made :e — God's law. pityingly, she I and scornful. D sense of your ish and protect I abandon her d you scarcely andonment of She spoke with an assumption of gracious condescen- sion, at variance with her haggard face and anxious eyes. Both rose, and Simon bowed over the hand which she extended to him. " I will wait on you without fail, madam," he said, " when I have anything of importance to communicate." light," he saM. r her own good irbert eagerly. 5 in your own your marriage, ct in removing f her admirers le fact — others ier of fashion, fe." murmured in ) bring her to •ut be induced .and ! Well, I ; you so weak," ou in th- face ', and take the 1. Let us not you will make ■you will easily r name, I shall 3^4 CHAPTER XXXIII. Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea, The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape : But O, too fond, when have I answer'd thee? Ask me no more. —Tennyson. A LITTLE before the appointed hour Simon was ad- mitted into the Giffbrd's house, and found Bertha waiting for him alone in a small room on the ground floor. As the door closed behind him she ran towards him, wringing her hands ; her face was paler than its wont, and she had evidently been weeping. ** Alas, Cousin," she cried, " I have no good news for you ! All our plans have come to naught." " She refuses to come," exclaimed Simon. ** She will not meet you," returned Bertha falteringly. " She came here this afternoon — burst in upon me like a whirlwind, and raved and stormed — I protest she frightened me. It seems she caught sight of you to-day, and at once divined the motive of my invita- tion." " She will not meet me," repeated Simon, half to himself, " she will not meet me." ** Indeed she was emphatic on that point," went on his cousin, somewhat reassured by his apparent calm. *' She accused me of treachery for having endeavoured to decoy her hither, and taxed me, moreover, with being the cause of your sudden appearance in this place. ' Did you or did you not write to him about me,' she YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 36i> —Tennyson. rood news for imon, half to asked me; and pressed the question home till I was forced to own that she had guessed aright." " You did well to tell her the truth," said Fleetwood quietly. " It is much better that she should know." " Ah, but if you had seen her fury— I am trembling from it still. She called me a false friend, and vowed that I had no business to spread slanders about her. How dared I, she cried, bring you to a spot where her name was so calumniated ? Then, in the same breath, she vowed that if you must needs -ome here to spy and listen to tittle-tattle it would serve you right if you heard more than you bargained for. And then she laughed and clapped her hands, and declared that she was glad you had come— glad that your precious sus- ceptibilities would be so shocked. I sought to take her hand and to make her hear reason, but she shook me off, calling me false and perjured ; and all of a sudden burst into tears, and cried that she had not a friend in the world. She was sobbing, Cousin, when she left the house." She looked piteously at Simon as she concluded her tale, and saw to her surprise that his face had grown hard and stern. He made no immediate rejoinder, how- ever, but after a moment took his hat from the table, where he had laid it on entering, and then stretched out his hand to her. "Good-bye, Bertha," he said, "you have done your best, and I thank you." " What will you do now, Simon ?" Bertha was timidly beginning, but the words died upon her lips as she glanced at his set face. He left her without further speech, and on reaching the street bent his steps in the direction of Lady Susan Harding's house. The words spoken so emphatically by Mrs. Fitzherbert that day were now ringing in his ears, echoing in his heart : "You ill 366 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. must coerce her for her own good. Your duty stares you in the face." In answer to his thundering knock a servant caine in haste, and stood a moment staring in blank amazement at the visitor. Recovering > imself, however, as Simon imperatively demanded to see Miss Charnock, he replied with a smile of derision that that was quite impossible. There was company to dinner, and the ladies had not yet left the dining-room. "You can take her a note, I suppose?" said the yeoman, after brief reflection. '* Why, yes," replied the man, scratching his jaw ; " I could do that, particular if 'twas made worth my while." Simon, having drawn close to the hanging lamp, was already in the act of scribbling a few lines on a leaf torn from his pocket-book, and now looked up hastily. *' You want money, I suppose ? You shall have it if you give it to her quickly." The fellow became obsequious in a moment. " You see, sir, 'tisn't the will that is lacking — I have my place to think about. Her ladyship's eyes are that sharp ! But there — I'll make a shift to give it her if you'll please to hurry up, sir." Having no way of fastening his missive, Simon was forced to be very guarded in the wording of it. After writing and tearing up one or two notes, he finally despatched the following : — " The time has come for me to act. I cannot suffer the present state of affairs to continue. Will you see me ? I would fain spare you all unnecessary publicity and annoyance." He signed it with his initials, twisted it up, and handed it to the servant, " There," he said, "give that to Miss Charnock, and uty stares you e?" said the YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 1^7 fetch me back the answer quickly ; you shall have a guinea for your pains." The man withdrew, taking the precaution to close the door ; and Simon was left to drum his heels upon the pavement, and to master his impatience as best he might After what seemed a long time the door opened hastily, and the servant reappeared. " Here-where's that quid ? Hand it over and get out, |vill you ? That was a d d mean trick o' yours, and like to get me into trouble ! " '' Is there no answer? " inquired Simon unsteadily. ]\ o answer ? Like your impudence ! What do you mean by making me carry threatening letters eh ? " " Threatening letters ! What do you mean'? " " Why, the young lady said so herself I give it her as she came out of the dining-room, and she tore it into twenty bits and threw it on the ground. ' What have you got there ? ' says her ladyship, not best pleased, I can tell you. 'A threatening letter, madam,' says Miss Charnock. Then her ladyship screeches outas we was all goin to be robbed and murdered, and asks me who lelt the letter, and when it was left, and what not till I was very nigh crazy. I told her 'twas brought by a little boy an hour ago." "Miss Charnock sent no message, you say?" said bimon, but half comprehending the tale. " No ; she tore up the note, and said 'twas a threaten- ing letter, and deserved to have no notice taken of it Aye, sir, she said that. Now, be o,., I say." " Wait a bit," resumed the yeoman. « The ladies have lett the dming-room, you say ? " " That they have. I must take coffee in directly " "Listen. Tell Miss Charnock privately that the ^.— ^r ^. ,.,^ noic 15 wainng for an answer. Do you near ? That message will be worth another guinea to you." 368 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Another ? Come, you seem to have plenty of 'em ! I don't much like this 'ere kind of work, but a few words is easy spoke." Again he slammed the door to. This time he was not long in reappearing. Taking the precaution of holding the door only partially open, he thrust his head out with an insolent grin. " Hand over. Well," pocketing the coin, " the answer is, you may wait and perhaps you'll see something. He, he ! That was it. ' Let him wait,' says she, ' and he will see what he will see.' Well, 'tis a fine night : you'd best take a seat upon the step." With that he vanished, leaving Simon in a state of mind which can scarcely be described. At one moment he imagined that the fellow must have invented the message, and again an idea struck him, recurring with maddening persistency, that the words conveyed a threat, and that Rachel did indeed wish him to stay to witness some act of hers which must incense and disgust him. Now he turned from the door as though to leave ; and then returned : he would wait, he would see for himself the real portent of the message. So he paced up and down before the door, at first in devouring impatience, and afterwards with sickness of heart. The minutes passed away, and the distant Pavilion clock chimed out for the second time since he had kept his eager watch ; he had almost reached the limits of his endurance when the rapid sound of wheels made him start, and a coach and four came swinging round the corner of the street, pulling up with a flourish at Lady Susan's house. One of the footmen, alighting presented himself at the door of the vehicle, and a man's voice drawled out : — ** Pray, let Captain Montague be acquainted that I wait his convenience to carry him to the Pavilion. Present YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 369 a man s voice also my compliments to Mr. Brummel, and let him be mformed that if he can make up his mind to enter my coach I shall be happy to give him a seat " The lackey brushed past Simon and vigorously plied the knocker. On the door being opened he repeated his masters message in a loud and imperative voice, and Lady Susan's servant at once retired to carry it on Simon well pleased at the early break-up of the party resolved to bide his time until the guests had departed and then to present himself afresh-if needs were to force his way into the house. His wish to remain undiscovered however, was frustrated on the reappearance of the ser- vant, who came hurrying back excitedly, and who, when on the point of making some confidence to his brother m livery, started back at the sight of the yeoman's tall figure. '' You here still ! " he exclaimed under his breath " ^^^ out— be off at once, else there'll be the devil to pay. Her ladyship's coming down herself." At this moment a tumult of voices was heard upon the stairs, together with the sound of hurrying feet. " I tell you, I will ! I will go if I like. You had no right to refuse without consulting me. It is nothing to me ifjyou don't come. I'll wager the Prince will be just as well pleased to see me without you." Simon's heart stood still : it was Rachel's voice, raised high in anger. Some indignant rejoinder which Simon did not catch came from the landing, and then Rachel's tones rang out again. " Madr Ti, I shall be well taken care of, I assure you ; these get lemen will be most happy to look after me! and Lord Robert will give me the best seat in his coach.'' He could hear the men rejoin in a laughing murmur, and then Lady Susan's reply, now quite distinguishable,' the lady having evidently descended the stairs. 24 ■3! ' II It 370 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " 'Tis disgraceful— intolerable ! I tell you, Rachel, the town will be ringing with your name to-morrow." " Just what I want," ret'irned Rachel ; " I like to be talked about." She suddenly appeared on the threshold, and darted a searching glance out into the night. Simon instinctively felt that she was looking for him, but was for the moment incapable of speech or movement. " Pray, Lord Robert," she called out, " will you honour me by giving me a seat ? I, tr ■>, am going to the Pavilion." A head was thrust from the window of the coach, and the drawling, somewhat cracked tones of the master of the equipage responded that it was indeed a most delightful surprise, and Miss Charnock was a thousand times welcome. " No, Lord Robert ; 'tis but a piece of folly," screamed Lady Susan, rushing out as Rachel was about to make her way towards the vehicle. " I'll not hear of it, Rachel, I tell you. If you care nothing for your own good name, I vow my house shall be respected." Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "That, your lady- ship, would be a new state of affairs," she cried ; and shook herself free from the hand that would have detained her. " You little hussy ! " shrieked her ladyship, qualifying the epithet with an adjective which will not bear re- peating. " I've had enough of this. If you are bent on disgracing yourself, do so; but do not think to make your home with me afterwards. If you leave my house to-night, miss, you do so for ever. Do not seek to return, for you will find my doors closed to you." "As to that," retorted Rachel, "I can easily find accommodation elsewhere. There are inns in the town, you, Rachel, the norrow." ; " I like to be n the threshold, ic night. Doking for him, of speech or )Ut, " will you "), am going to ■ the coach, and )f the master of ndeed a most was a thousand folly," screamed about to make lot hear of it, I for your own respected." lat, your lady- she cried ; and at would have ship, qualifying II not bear re- '•ou are bent on think to make eave my house Do not seek )ors closed to :an easily find ns in the town, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 37, I believe-there are even taverns, quite as respectable as this mansion of your ladyship's " respectable as She was preparing to descend the steps when Simon recovermg from his stupor, rushed forward. Tht ou ' rageous p.ece of folly o^ust be averted .t all cos he must speak to her now, even though he were overheard by those grinning servants. ove.heard "Stop!" he cried hoarsely, and Hung out his arm to bar her progress ; but .she deftly eluded him anc ran qu.ckly towards the coach. Lady Susans attendon was momentardy diverted, and she screamed viole "at the vvitn an oath, that he must be either a murderer or a h.ghwayman, and charging all who heard her to ^e .e a'morn^l^'^ ^''''- ^"^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^er^ " Have no fear, madam. I have no wish to h„rt =,„„ on. My business is with Miss Cl,arn c\ Rac e T forbid you to enter that coach " ' Robert-!""''"' T' "'"^'^^ P'"^'^''"^ ^' 'he door. Lord Roberts second servant, who had descended and wis standmg by the vehicle, hastened to assist her In :rtrvercr ' -'- '-' ''-^^-^^ ■■-- "-^ '-ho: " Ah ! " screamed Lady Susan, " what a H of a cat you are! So this is your doing, madam P^L who may this beggarly fellow be?" ^' J Dnve on, drive on," cried Rachel, ..vithout heeding Captain Montague hastened down the steos and Pushm^^ past Simon, leaped, in his turn.Tn';:; The ■; Are you coming, Brummel ? " he cried. 2 K 'f"^.^'"'^"'^'- " Reputations are cheap M but. hang It, I still set a certain value on mine" to ^^B ^ 372 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. "Drive on, drive on," cried the cracked, impatient tones of my lord. " I say, Stop ! " shouted Simon, thrustin^^ his head into the coach window. " I must speak— Rachel ! " " Here, out of the way," cried one of the burly footmen, endeavouring to shoulder him on one side. Rachel leaned forward, her white face but a few inches away from his. " Good God ! is not this enough for you ? " The next moment Simon found himself tripped up, and before he could realise what had happened, fell heavily to the ground, as with an insolent laugh the two lackeys leaped to their perch, and the coach swung past him. They were already out of sight when Simon rose to his feet to find Lady Susan's servant sniggering at his elbow, and Mr. Brummel surveying him through his eye-glass. " What, my worthy friend, it is you, is it ? You are persevering truly. Take my advice and give up the chase ; she's not worth your pursuit. Oh, these women ! Dear distracting creatures ! Hark to Lady Susan ! Pray, my dear madam, have some respect for our ears and our morals." The strident tones of her ladyship's voice and the nature of her vituperations were indeed such as to call forth this remonstrance. " [ mean what I say," she shrieked. " The little wretch may go to the devil as fast as she likes now— I've done with her. Do you hear, John ? If Miss Charnock returns to-night you are not to let her in, I say. Not to-night, nor at any other time. Tell all the servants this. I'll be hanged if she shall ever cross my threshold again." " I have a horror of such scenes," said Brummel plain- tively ; speaking, it must he conjectured, rather to himself than to any one else, for Lady Susan was not in a eked, impatient irtrr his head into .chel ! " e of the burly 1 on one side, but a few inches nough for you ? " self tripped up, happened, fell olent laugh the :he coach swung jht when Simon •vant sniggering ing him through is it ? You are id give up the 1, these women ! [y Susan ! Pray, )ur ears and our voice and the I such as to call 1. " The little ihe likes now — ohn ? If Miss to let her in, 1 e. Tell all the II ever cross my Brummel plain- •ather to himself I was not in a YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 37, condition to heed him, and it cannot be presumed that after his few words of careless recognition The beau would agam stoop to honour with his notice a person so msignificant as Simon. person so But in any case the yeoman had had enough of his conversation and was indeed already making with a speed from the hateful spot. His greai hmbs trembled a though he were smitten with the ague ; his cheeks burned his broad chest heaved^he could scarce breathe so oppressed was he with a suffocating sense of rale nnH shame. Oh God 1 that she .hnnM ,u ^ , "''^ °^ ^^S^ and u- iiM ■ should thus disgrace herself and h.m. What would be the end ? He must take h„v away but-how to obtain access to her ? She had chosen her retreat cunningly. In his present mood he couU fo ce h,s way mto any private house ; but how Benetra e lor her when she was actually within reach, instead of standmg hke o, paralysed? Now every moment that passed mcreased the danger which threatened he and buTT V "' ''""^ '•^'"^^" 'hem. Oh, could he but throw h,s arms about her-could he but hold her IZ 11m" 'Ts 'h° ''-'■ '' *°"'^ "^^^ "- '-and through the n.ght, his lips, in his extreme need half unconscously uttered the old prayer: -. My God r^v God, give her to me ! " ^ ' ^ U^\t T't ^" 'iT "'""^ '° •>'■■" ■■ he would consult he should h' ^'' "'""''""' '° *^'' "P- her andlh h ^ " ■"'""■ °' ''"P°'-'ance to communicate t anv h Tr""''^ ^'' "'"'•"g"-^^ to receive him a any hour She perhaps, who best knew the tempe" her Royal Lord, could direct Simon as to the m^^Z et:;:':;:'^'"'^''^^"^ '>■•'" '° p"'^- - the-p-rese^; |B 8 Sft :' 374 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Ill f I' f •' ' Without a moment's hesitation he turned in the direc- tion of the lady's house, which, at his request, had been pomted out to him that afternoon, and lost no time in claiming admittance to her presence. It was then nearly ten o'clock, and the servant seemed surprised at Simon's seeking an audience at so late an hour. But Fleetwood's positive assurance that his mistress expected him pre- vailed, and he led the way into a small ante-room, divided by heavy curtains from a larger room beyond.' Simon remained standing near the door, and the man was going forward to announce him when the curtains were drawn apart and a pretty little girl of about seven or eight years old ran through, calling joyfully, " Prinnie ' Is that my Prinnie?" She stopped short, uttering an exclamation of disap- pointment at sight of Simon, and the man went for\v'ard to the doorway where Mrs. Fitzherbert herself was now standing. ** Pray, come in, Mr Fleetwood," she said, turning a shade paler as she caught sight of his agitated face ; " I am glad to see you. And you, my love," she added to the little girl, « must go to bed. You have sat up too long as it is." " I want my Prince," said the child, bursting into tears. "He will not come to-night, my dear," said Mrs. Fitzherbert, quietly. " I told you before, you know, that It was most improbable. He has a card party to-night. Now run away, my little one, and sleep sweetly. Good- night, good-night." "My adopted child," she explained, looking towards Simon, as the little girl left the room ; "the daughter of one of my dearest friends, who bequeathed her to me on her death-bed. I have been much harassed in connec- tion with her, but her sweet affection repays me for YEOMAN FLEETWOOD ,-- ^^^^ r , *^ ' ^^ P'^^^f were wanting of his goodness of heart. But tell me, what has happened wh. _ oout your meeting with-with your tife? " distracted"" ste' ^'?r'"^ ^'''"°"' " ' ^"^ "-^I'-nigh aistracted. She would not see me_she defies me T wrote to warn her of my intention to claim her p^bliclv ^:l spiteT^'i^^ld^t?^!- - Tdi'tUe r:'h ' ^"; f ^ "^''^ "'^ ->- --an::: fus Burh'Xrel.ts'Ut r::rs ^.tti^ , '°--^'^'- then ' saiH ^h^ uruV ,^^- ^ ^'^^ go to an inn, then, said she. What is to become of her-how will ii " She is at the Pavilion now, you tell me ? " said the ladv smkmg mto a chair. ^' evel^'f'"' f ' "'"'' °" " ^ ^^^-^h. before my very deavour r f y'P°'''- ^"^ '^ '■"'^'^"^'^d at my en^ disZ mlth^T '"■• '"'^ ^"^'^^ ^° '° scandalise and sa d sL f i ?'^ "° '""^"^^ "'^l^ '° ^'-™ her. She hit h^ 7rTi ""' '°"" '" ""g ^"'h the story, and hat she hked bemg talked about. She looked me^n I' M t^"'' '"'^ •• ' '^ "°' this enough ? ■ Oh mad^m I :r' st:idt;'r ■■- ->',--"'- a?d\rn:"he on. 1 should have been on the alert-but while I stood girl IZt b" mix ■ "*" ^ ^'°^^ ' " '''' ''^ '^'y- " The "She is mad, madam, mad with pride and miserv She knows not what she is doing nor whither "hefs f. 'li HI 'I ■in Z7^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. T. ' mis B going, and where is she to go? Madam, you must help me to take her away to-night." "I help you!" repeated she bitterly. "My dear friend, there is no one in Brighton so little able to mov. in this matter as I. Do not the facts speak for them- selves ? " " Surely you can at least tell me how I may obtain admittance yonder. Were I to go boldly and ask for Miss Charnock she would refuse to see me as she has already done." " She would doubtless refuse— besides, that would be an impossible line of action. No, no ; it is not to be thought of. Your only chance is to wait patiently until she comes out. You cannot, I think, miss her. Since, as you say, Lady Susan Harding has practically turned her out, she will be glad enough to be rescued by you froni a very unpleasant predicament." Simon groaned in his misery and impatience. "Oh, madam, it is easy for you to speak calmly! Every moment that she remains in her present situation IS agony to me. To think of her there, alone, unpro- tected. in the midst of that profligate crew ! I must get to her. Can you contrive no means of procuring me admittance ? " *' Do you suppose that this affair does not concern me ? " said the lady. She paused a moment, looking at him with drawn brows. " There might be one way," she resumed, and then broke suddenly off. " No, no, I dare not-'tis too wild — 'twould be impossible." "Madam, I implore of you," besought Simon, "if there be any way let me know of it." " No, no," she repeated hastily : " I was mad to think of It even for a moment. Listen, my good friend, calm you must help V. "My dear 'i able to mov. 3eak for them- I may obtain ly and ask for me as she has that would be t is not to be patiently until IS her. Since, ctically turned iscued by you ience. speak calmly! 2sent situation alone, unpro- ' I I must get procuring me YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 377 yourself. Your wife spoke of going to an inn to-night, did she not ? You have, therefore, but to remain in the neighbourhood of the ordinary entrance to the Pavilion, and you must necessarily see her depart. I feel for you with all my heart— I feel, I may say, with you, but believe me, I am helpless. Go ; God bless you. After all, we are in His hands. Go, go," she repeated, somewhat impatiently. " You must take up your post at once. This may be but a mere piece of bravado, and when the girl comes to her senses she will probably wish to leave before it grows too late. If you are not on the watch, you may miss her." * Thus adjured, Simon had no choice but to withdraw, and, feeling like a man in a nightmare, made his way to the Pavilion ; taking up his stand at a point whence he had a good view of the entrance. s not concern 1 with drawn led, and then —'tis too wild t Simon, " if mad to think I friend, calm 378 CHAPTER XXXIV. Sweet partner I must not yet forsake you. . . , Let's be merry ; " I am a gentleman. " I '11 be sworn thou art ; Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions and sjDirit Do give thee five fold blazon. —Shakespeare. The eyes of the silent watcher were strained in the endeavour to lose no indication cf the departure of the merry-makers within that strange and tawdry palace His ears were so much on the alert that the mere throbbing of his own heart sounded unnaturally loud, while the breaking of the waters on the neighbouring beach, the more distant noises of the town, the very foot-falls of the passers-by, maddened him with the dread that such sounds might overpower those for which he longed— Rachel's footstep, Rachel's voice. By-and-bye, however, a kind of hush seemed to descend upon the place, broken only by the booming of the waves, and the chiming of the great Pavilion clock. Would that weary night never come to an end? All at once a sudden clatter, coming from the direction on which his attention was concentrated, sent a shiver of expectation through his frame. Many voices talking and laughing together, shrill whistles piercing the night, chairmen and link-boys starting up, by magic, it would seem, from the very ground. Simon pressed forward easferlv — was «hp there > M-'^hf- hr- -.'%f m-~- 1 ■ j -■> LiitTic. i\iigiu nc uOi miss iter aiiiici me sudden confusion ? YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 379 HAKESPEARE. Hark ! there were the cracked languid tores of Lord Robert. Was he talking to her? No, the figure to whom the voice belonged was in the act of being hoisted with some difficulty into a sedan-chair. As the yeoman looked round he observed that the guests now leaving the Pavilion, some it must be owned with a staggerincr and uncertain gait, were all of the male sex ; in a feC moments more they had melted away, and but for the sound of retreating steps and, voices, silence once more prevailed. The deep-tongued clock struck out solemnly : One ! Obeying a sudden and uncontrollable impulse Simon hastened after two figures who were proceeding more slowly, if more steadily, than the others, and presently came up with them, his hurried steps causing them to turn in surprise. They were young men, their faces both being strange to him. How now," cried one ; " what do you want, sir ? If this is a foot-pad," he added to his companion, " he seems to be a bold one." " I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said Simon, « I would but ask a question. Has the party yonder" pointing in the direction of the Pavilion, - come to an end yet ? I am waiting for one of the guests." " I imagine, sir, you will have to wait some time ; only a few of the Prince's immediate friends have remained. Having squeezed us dry his Royal Highness has been graciously pleased to dismiss the rest of us. The favoured i^v^ mean to make a night of it. I think 'tis scarce worth your while, sir, to wait any longer— they will probably continue to play until morning ; besides, your friend has most likely taken his departure already. Pray, if the question may be permitted, what is his name ? " It is of no consequence, sir," stammered Simon ; I 11 ;■-■ i i. hi' 380 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " : " excuse me for troubling you. Did you say that but a few gentlemen remain with the Prince ? " '• Why, there's one lady— a host in herself, I ass. - you— a very devil at the dice-box. 'Twould be in- discreet to divulge her name." " I— I have no wish to know her name," replied Fleetwood, in an almost inaudible voice. " Why, by George, I believe the assignation was with her!" broke in the other young man, marking his confusion. " Ha ! ha ! this is an excellent joke ! My dear sir, if you intend to wait for her, I should advise you to take a little nap upon the pavement, for you are likely to wait some hours. The young lady seems to be enjoying herself amazingly." " 'Twill be gross waste of your valuable time, I assure you," chimed in the first speaker. - But, since you know that she is happy and in excellent company, you will no doubt be able to console yourself." Once more linking their arms together the two laughed loudly, and passed on. Simon stood for a moment looking after them as they vanished into the gloom ; then began to stride, almost to run, in the direction of Mrs. Fitzherbert's house. She had hinted that there was a way— an impracticable way— of forcing an entrance yonder. Let the conse- quences be what they might, he would risk them. Let that way be never so wild— be impossible, as she said- he must and would take it. Here was Mrs. Fitzherbert's dwelling : he would rouse the folk within and insist on seeing her, even if they took him for a madman. But when he stood before the house he observed that one of the windows on the ground floor was unshuttered, and, by the light which burned within, could discern the outline nf a fio-ure '^'-^t^ri j-cf behind the half-drawn curtain, its shadow being thrown YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. say that but a irself, I ass',. - would be in- ame," replied Ltion was with marking his nt joke ! My should advise t, for you are y seems to be time, I assure ut, since you :ompany, you :her the two them as they stride, almost bert's house, impracticable ;t the conse- c them. Let as she said — J would rouse even if they )d before the •n the ground 'hich burned e seated just >eing thrown 381 upon the folds. As Simon's steps sounded through the* stillness the shadow moved, the curtain was drawn a httle farther back, and the figure, coming round it approached the window and cautiously raised the sash, "Who is there?" said a voice, which he recognised as that of Mrs. Fitzherbert herself. " It is I, Simon Fleetwood. Madam, you must let me in." " I knew you would come— I could not go to bed Is there no news?" " None, save that I hear they intend to make a night of It at the Pavilion. All the guests have gone except only the Prince's immediate friends ; but she is still there. Let me in, madam." " No, no— it would be of no use. How can I help you?" ^ " You can help me, and you must help me," said Simon in a passionate whisper ; "you said there was a way by means of which I could obtain entrance yonder Madam, you must tell me of it. Let me but see my wife, and I will answer for the rest. This time no one shall come between us— but I must get to her— I will take all risks. Oh, madam ! think of what is at stake- by all that you hold sacred let me to her ! " Mrs. Fitzherbert pressed her hands wearily to her brow : — " I might give you a note," she said, " a note to take to the Prince— you might say it was an urgent message from me. But even then it would scarce admit fou into his presence. And then, sir, have you no thought for me— would you have me cast aside even my woman's dignity ? " "Madam," returned Simon sternly, "there are graver things at stake than a woman's dignity. In the name \1 m 1 ':\ ■ 382 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. of the God who made you. and to whom you must one day give an account, stretch out your hand now to save your sister woman in her peril." She sighed, wrung her hands, and finally said, almost with a groan :— "Well then, in God's name I will do it. Wait a moment, and I will come to you." She closed the window, and drew the shutters across fastenmg and bolting them, Simon meanwhile tremblinr; with impatience— how could she wait to take such trumpery precautions when every moment was precious ' A further delay ensued, but at length the house door opened very softly, and a cloaked and hooded fio-ure passed through, closing it after her with the same stealthiness. " Where are you ? " she asked, and the glare of a lantern suddenly flashed out from beneath her cloak • identifying Simon's tall figure she immediately closed the slide, and all again was dark, save for the light of the moon and the uncertain glimmer of the occasional street lamps. She led the way, and Simon followed in absolute silence and with the nightmare-like sensation previously described strong upon him. She paused at length, and Simon looking round him found that they had halted opposite a great archway through which he could see a large square courtyard' Heaving a deep sigh his guide passed through this, and Simon accompanied her across the yard and under a corre- sponding archway on the opposite side. He heard the grating of a key and presently, to his astonishment, found himself in a large circular building, where, as Mrs Fitzherbert again withdrew the slide from her lantern, the gleam of water in an immense reservoir caught his eye Many doors opened out of this court, and from the un- mistakable smell, and the frequent stamping of hoofs and VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 383 rattling of chains the yeoman guessed that horses must be m the neighbourhood. His surmise was correcrfo theCrstfbfe:;^^^^ -'"'"' ^-'^■•"^ ■■" '"<= -- or He was about to speak, but she silenced him by putting a finger on her lip. Selecting another key Lm her to'"foM If"'' " "^'"■" ^°°'-' -^ -g-ns Thim to follow she began to descend some steps by-and^ bye they found tl,emselves in a dark and Jro^ZZt wh,ch apparently burrowed through the earth. On wem he hooded figure carrying the light, and close behMd came S.mon feelmg more than ever like a man in a dream and be.ng obliged to stoop as he walked lest he should knock his head against the roof ere«"''Th,t "'If ^'°PP^^ ^ «"°"«^^ door barred their pro- gress. Tha on bemg opened gave access to an intricate staircase wh.chwound up.and up.untilatlength raising her arm Mrs Fitzherbertpushed back a trap-dofr and epped out.ntoahghtedroom. Simon followed'her, looking old h m m amazement half doubting even now that he was in truth awake for the tawdry splendour of the place was unhke anythmg he had ever seen. Silken hanging,, of bnlhant hues and barbaric design, a profusion of gilding a mult,phc,ty of lights even in this apparently disused tT^.VT°"T"'""""'' '•^P^'=^«"""g birds and beasts such as had surely never walked the earth or hovered in the a,r_all was a medley so odd. so .savage, .so inhar momous. that Simon could never have evL imagted But he was not left long to wonder, even had he been .nchned to waste tin.e in doing so, for Mrs F-tzherbert beckoned him impatiently to follow hi " Inf 1™ °"-''; ^"°"'^' ""•"'-">' '■•g'"^'^ apart: - ! a tx.v,n anouicr, ana now the sound of voices and loud laughter reached their ears. The lady suddenly h ii I'll 384 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. m^ paused, turning on her companion a face in which no vestige of colour remained. ''I have done my part." she said, "the rest remains with you If you are hard pressed you may use my name, but I fear me it will scarce protect you. If there is mk---,f misfortunes overtake you-on your own head be t ! Ru^ I wish you well. Go straight on and open that door -those you seek are there. Remember you cannot return in this manner. I have brought you iiither, but you must make your own way out " " Maci'.m. I understand." said Simon. " I am ready to bles's ylu""'''"'"''" ' '^'"'^ ^°"' ^"' ' P'^y ^-' ^° ^ Leaving her then, he hastened on to the door she had indicated and she. with a deep sigh, retraced her steps and soon disappeared. With his hand upon the handle of the door Simon paused one moment, an unspol "harp and distmct even •■ Nn M ""''"^^ °f ^^--^^ J^-^ts and laugh ^er •■ Nal 7 m "P' ' "^"' '° -'•"-' -""-^t vvm : returned 'the'p'^ 'f^'- ^°" "'" "°' "'" «-"'ght > eye 4" u""""- """^ '' ''" ' '"' "'•■^ blood-thot ■Cur ^.::':i::zr,rr:tr''- f'^-r"'" comes at last • „ 7 ^^' ^ ' '"^ °f reckoning "fiy Heatens sir" " rr "f*' "^ ^' "-"""^ -^'^^ " fh. , "^^^^"''- >■'' ! broke m another, " you are nnt the only one to whom this lady is in deb 7Lt ., a number of her I.O.U.s." ' '''"■'' retZd'th'T *",' k"""'""^ "^y preced.,nce, I trust" osTmy heLT H "'• " '"O-"-. f"- ^th 1 l have lost my heart, gentlemen ; I must be paid for that " hand' ZT^u '°™"'' "■^'^'•"^ - 'f h« wolld ake her chat ' .„ '^'•f^'"'^- d^e- back, half risi ,g from her «tohert:a\t:'a:r:;rhi°:^"^" '-''•'^^^'^^ bimon ! oh, Simon ! Th=„i, q^j 1 » Belore she reached him, howeve^.her ourstretched 25 II m YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. arms dropped by her side and her eyes fell ; a deep flush overspread her face. Simon instinctively felt that in that moment she had become conscious of the degradation of her surroundings, and the sense of shame was not less bitter to him than to herself But now a great hubbub and outcry arose. The noble if inebriated company was mcensed and disturbed by the sudden and in- -explicable appearance of this stranger in its midst Who was he? How had he come there ? What the devil ■did he want ? The Prince, with his arm still resting •on the back of the chair from which Rachel had risen Stared stupidly at him ; Captain Montague remarked indistinctly that he fancied he had seen the fellow before. Meanwhile Simon advanced to Rachel, and drew her arm through his. His expression was stern almost to severity, and he kept his eyes averted from her face. To see her thus stricken— humbled to the dust was almost more than he could bear. After a brief pause he turned to the rest of the party. "Gentlemen," he was beginning, when the Prince roused from his seeming stupor by the yeoman's recent action, suddenly lurched on to his feet, and demanded fiercely what his business was ; desiring him in the same breath, and with an oath, to let the lady go. " Sir," returned Simon quietly, " the lady is my wife- I am here on her behalf All who deem that they have claims upon her must reckon with me." A dead pause of a full minute ensued ; and then the Prince, whose already inflamed countenance had suddenly become sufi-used with a still deeper flush swore angrily that it was a lie ; Miss Charnock was' unmarried, as everybody knew. " Nay, sir, he speaks the truth," said Rachel, with h^r eyes upon the ground; she was trembling like a leaf, ;11 ; a deep flush ily felt that in the degradation me was not less a great hubbub iated company idden and in- in its midst. What the devil m still resting Lchel had risen, igue remarked en the fellow lel, and drew on was stern i^erted from her ed to the dust, era brief pause m the Prince, soman's recent md demanded m in the same o. y is my wife- hat they have ed ; and then ntenance had deeper flush, 3harnock was Lchel, with her ig like a leaf, YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. -g^ and vainly strove to steady her voice " W. K u married now for eight .onfhs andTore." ^' '^^^ '^^" Madam ' cried his Rr^./^i u- u with rage, " I seem to ZogZl tht'le^T '''""""'"^ I look at him more closely !^^^y%"l'2'^ "^ ''''' who accosted you on the St^i^tlV'TJ^TT, not you yourself declare that you did ZVk^tuL' Ah sir, she returned almost inaudiblv • '• I , of the party gathered ronnH "a-^mnat'on. Two or three stood tLeLVabTvt Tem, TrTZZT^''' 'f "^ " I renf-pf- ,> .^ ° determined. 1 repeat it, gentlemen— the bdv/ .-c ^ am here to answer for her r ^ ^ '^'^^' ^"^ ^ debts and take her home "' ^'^ "^ ^^^->^ h- -;tt^t' Iter r^aTe ^^'' ^ 'T' ^^"^^' " ^- for! By the Lord H.T v '"°'' '^"" ^'^^ ^^^^^'n I Wish yL ;yX:^; Tod :d;r.rh ^hT ^r •' sure which you do well to secure"^; He' he'.''' ' ' ^"^■ Hush! fie!" cried another. " Prav let th. man enjoy his happiness in peace Han. . f " devilish good fellow 7 f^ P^^^e. Hang ,t, he's a anylady'ffavouf I h.' u °"^' P''^^^'' ^ bank-note to sir whfrh ^^ ^^'^ ^ ''"^^ P^'le of her r O U s sir, which, since you are so obliginr. I will ev.h r ' ready money." ^ "" ^ exchange for He came forward a little unsteadily and with . r^ . amiable and poh'te bow presented S,^.u °'^ coro^ r ' F'^-^t-ncea cjimon with snm« nation, even the genera, .Z:^,!^:^:;;^'^- -ean^^tf^---;-.^^.^ 388 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. must have fallen. He instinctively felt how acute was her humiliation in being forced to suffer him to pay the penalty of her follies ; gladly would he have spared her the shame and anguish, but it was necessary to have done once for all with these birds of prey. The contents of his well-filled pocket-book did not however suffice to defray Rachel's liabilities, and presently Simon was forced to request the gentlemen who remained unsatisfied to furnish him with their names and addresses, announc- ing emphatically that before the week was out all should be paid. " But I must go home first," he added. Thereupon the Prince, who had been a silent spectator of the scene, and indeed a motionless one, save for the occasional swaying of his great unwieldy body, now burst forth in ungovernable fury, vowing that he'd be d d if Simon should depart like that. What did he mean, he cried, choking with rage, by forcing his way into his presence, and there behaving with such outrage- ous insolence? Did he think, forsooth, to escape un- punished ? Where were the servants ? — they should pay for admitting such a ruffian. Who had shown him up? Where were the villains? — Let somebody call them — let somebody ring the bell. Why did not somebody ring the bell ? Was he to be defied and insulted without any one so much as lifting a finger in his defence? Ha! but they should all rue it — they should repent it to the last moment of their lives. Captain Montague, who was perhaps the most sober of the party, made his way to the door at the farther end of the room — not that by which Simon had entered. He turned the handle hastily, but the lock did not yield. He paused, looked more closely, uttered a short laugh, and finally made his way back to the spot where the Heir Apparent was still raving. 's*-A«:«te«»»«^»K'«l?*Spfj YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 389 % w acute was n to pay the e spared her sary to have The contents ver suffice to Simon was id unsatisfied ses, announc- was out all [ent spectator save for the y body, now that he'd be What did he cing his way ;uch outrage- j escape un- ly should pay own him up? all them — let imebody ring ilted without efence ? Ha ! ent it to the e most sober it the farther had entered, did not yield, L short laugh, ut where the " The fellow cannot have entered in that way, your Royal Highness," he said ; " the door is locked, : nd the key is in your Royal Highness' pocket. You will re- member, sir, having playfully locked and taken possession of it when Miss Charnock— I beg the lady's pardon- Mrs. Whatever-her-name-may-be, was for leaving us some time ago." The Prince looked suddenly disconcerted. Drawing the key from his pocket he handed it to the gallant captain, and desired him haughtily to unfasten the door at once ; then, turning to Simon, he said in an altered tone : — " Then pray, sir, how did you get in ? " " I came in," said Simon, "by that door," pointing to the one through which he had passed. " I made my way hither by what I take to be a private passage. Your servants are not to blame, sir." The Prince did not speak for a moment ; his anger had apparently left him, but not his discomposure, which indeed seemed rather to increase. The wrath of his obsequious adherents waxed loud. The affair must be looked into, announced one, 'Twas house-breaking, no less— the fellow must be secured. 'Twas a plot, a devilish plot— his Royal Highness' life might possibly be in danger. " No, no," cried their master peevishly, '* I know well enough who is at the bottom of this ; I understand how you came hither, young man. And now, since you have done your business, have the kindness to relieve me of your presence. Ring the bell there — how often must I speak?" There had been meanwhile much hurrying to and fro without, and several .servants had already entered the room, though his Royal Highness was unconscious of the fact. One of them now respectfully announced his presence. I' Ri W 390 VEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Oh you are there, eh?" said the Prince irritably. 1 ake this person downstairs. Let him go, I say " he added, raising his voice, as his too officious friends were about to make some protest, " I will have no scenes here — let him depart at once." •' l^?V^?^^^^' "''^" P"' '" ^" obsequious voice; "shall the lady go too?" He rolled his heavy eyes towards her: "She may go," he said in a dull voice, "if she go-s willingly." ^ ^ ''Oh sir, I go willingly, indeed," faltered Rachel. ^ God knows, I go willingly ! " And her voice lost itself in a rush of tears. Simon half carried her out of the room, and through the apartments that remained to be traversed, and down the great stairs. Her limbs failed beneath her, and her head swam ; but by-and-bye she felt the fresh air of heaven blowing upon her face, and, looking up, found herselt out in the quiet night, alone with Simon 39 equious voice ; ^ " if she goes CHAPTER XXXV. . . . Know yourself, down on your knees. And thank heaven, fasting, fcr a good man's love. " • • My lord and lady it is now our time * * That have stood L . and seen our wishes prosper lo cry good joy ; good joy my lord and lady. —Shakespeare. Rachel clung convulsively to her husband's arm but her head was bent and she said no word ; they made a tew paces together and then he suddenly paused She did not raise her head nor speak, and after a moment he stern :- ^ """''^ ""^''^ ^'''"" '^'"' "'^°*'°" ■^^""d^d J^ Where shall I take you ? Where would you like to ;' I am in your hands," she replied in a muffled spiritless tone; "you must dispose of me as you think She felt the arm on which she leaned quiver suddenly qufetl'y.i'^'^ ^ ^"""^ ^'^^^^ ' *^'" ^^ "'^'^' ^^^^^^y ^nd "Have no fear, my dear ; far be it from me to take advantage of you now. But you will, I am sure, agree with me, that it is best for you to leave this place. Come, you will let me take you to your mother-let me take you home — home is best." " Yes," said Rachel with a little sob, " home is best " ^, — i — ^Uir^n wiiu ussumea ciieerfulness, you will allow me to find a lodging for you where you i ± I I 392 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. I, 'J ,1 /' may rest till daybreak ? You need repose, and we could hardly start before then." "Oh, let us start now," cried Rachel, almost with a groan. - Pray, let it be now. Every moment that I remain here is agony. I beg of you, take me away at once." ^ "So be it," said Simon still cheerfully, though the cheerfulness had a very hollow ring. " The inn where I am staying is not far from here, and I know they keeo post-horses. I will conduct you there, and make pre- parations for our departure at once. But you— can you travel as you are now_in that thin dress, and without even a shawl?" "Have I no shawl?" said she, as though perceiving the fact for the first time; "it does not matter, I am not cold. We are losing time-oh, make haste, make haste, Simon ! I shall not breathe until I have left this place." They hurried on, and soon came to the little hostelry where Simon had been lodging ; all the house was in darkness and as he was about to knock at the door Rachel shrank back. "Do not let them see me," she said. "I -I am ashamed." Her husband drew her arm more firmly through his - " No need to be ashamed," he said. - Have no fear- no one shall molest you." In another moment his thundering rap roused all the echoes of the quiet place, and even the sleepy " Boots " The door was unbolted and opened a very little way tTe cWnT"^''"'"^^''''^^^'^^'' ^''^ ^"""^'•^d through "'Tis I_Mr. Fleetwood; I have been staying here, but I and my wife must leave Brighton to-night. Let as m Until the chaise is ready." YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. jpose, and we almost with a loment that I e me away at /, though the "he inn where low they keep id make pre- you — can you , and without gh perceiving matter, I am haste, make have left this ittle hostelry louse was in at the door 393 "I -I am rough his: — Lve no fear — )used all the py " Boots ". r little way, red through aying here, ?ht. Let .iS Slip-shod feet were now heard descending the stairs and an anxious query in feminine tones '' Tis the first floor back, ma'am," responded Boots, looking over his shoulder, and still holding the door ajar. '« He's got his lady here, and says they must leave Brighton to-night." "Goodness gracious!" came the exclamation in shrill anger and surprise. " Well, open the door there, James, and let 'em in." ' J > But when the good landlady, who, mindful of her somewhat scanty attire, had not ventured to come farther than the landing, where she was endeavouring to keep her ample person as much out of sight as was compatible with her desire to inspect the new comers, caught sight of Rachel s bare head and flimsy white evening dress, she sniffed audibly. '« Wife, indeed ! " she ejaculated ; 1 dont believe no such cock-an'-bull story. The gentleman hadn't no v,\{^ when he come here Take ^""J^"^^ ^''^>^' '''' ' ^'^^ "°t have her in the house." Ma am," said Simon, "my wish is to leave your house at once, as soon as I can pack my bag and pay your bill. Meanwhile, I insist on Mrs. Fleetwood bdng shown to some apartment where she can wait until the post-chaise is ready." ^^ " Never heard of such a thing," grumbled the dame • a pretty time o' night to be gettin' apartments ready. You W have to pay double for the post-chaise, sir, I can tell you Aye, 'twould serve you right \{ I charged you double for everything. Dragging decent folks out o' their beds, and frightening them out o' their senses ! If trouble comes o' this, this here establishment is not to be held responsible-nay, an' I'll not promise to hold my tongue if folks come after you." " You may charge us what you like," broke in Simon impatiently, - and say whatever you please. No one 394 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. will come after us— we need but to stay a quarter of an hour." " I can sit here," said Rachel, speaking for the first time. " I can be in no one's way here." And with- drawing her arm from Simon's she sank down upon a settle which stood in the narrow hall. Grumbling, but somewhat mollified, the landlady retired to make up her bill, taking out the value of her irritation in charges as exorbitant as she could make them ; and setting his flickering candle upon a bracket James led the way to the stable followed by Simon. Many curious glances were directed towards the strange lady as she sat on the wooden bench, shivering though she had said she was not cold. First a sleepy waiter peered at her from the back premises ; then the round eyes of a chamber-maid fixed themselves upon her; finally the tasselled night-cap of the landlord himself came bobbing cautiously over the balusters, but was withdrawn with a jerk on the reappearance of his better half, whose voice was raised high in vituperation as with clumsy slippered tread he regained his own quarters. But Rachel neither moved nor spoke until Simon returned, when she raised her head quickly. " Is it ready ? Can we go ? " " The chaise will be round in a moment," replied he. " Meanwhile, I will pay the bill and fetch my things." He passed her and mounted the stairs, three steps at a time ; his advent causing a great commotion in the upper regions. Bare feet paddled hastily away, towsled heads vanished round corners, doors were banged. On his return the hostess, with a shawl over her night-cap and a petticoat held in place by one sturdy hand, stood wait- ing for him on the landing, the bill in her disengaged finger and thumb. Simon glanced at it, threw one of the bank-notes which he had held in reserve towards her. YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. y a quarter of ig for the first ;." And with- down upon a the landlady le value of her e could make Jpon a bracket )y Simon. towards the nch, shivering, First a sleepy ises ; then the jmselves upon the landlord balusters, but ^arance of his 1 vituperation ined his own r spoke until id quickly. t," replied he. my things." three steps at notion in the iway, towsled nged. On his jht-cap and a [, stood wait- r disengaged threw one of : towards her, 395 and hurried on. The sound of wheels was now heard without, and Rachel had risen to her feet " Let nie wrap you in this coat," he said briefly when he stood beside her ; " the night is chilly " ^' He held up his own great-coat, a heavy one with capes, so long that when Rachel wore it it trailed upon he rffstll ^' ^i'"^^ '^^ ^^"^-^ -^^ ^he sJves he cuffs fell over her fingers, and, holding them up she looked n. her husband's face w.th a momentary' wan little sm, e ; but he had already turned from her and hastened towards the door. As he flung it open he d"d not see her brush that monstrous cuff Lross'her eyes yet when they were at length seated side by side in the s"t l?b : T' T ^^' ^^^P'"^- ^>^^ ^^-^ they sat, side by side, bound to each other by the closest of all human ties, and he knew her to be fn sorrow and he durst not take her to his heart. '' I am in your hands ; dispose of me as you will " Oh cruel words ! He thought to have won her at last and It seemed to him that they had never been so fa^ apart. Her very submission was a dagger in his heart This crushed, humiliated Rachel belonged to him indeed' was pitifully conscious of his power over her-would he not be worse than dastard if he forced himself upon her now ? She shrank from him into the farthest corner • It seemed to him that she was afraid of him-oh she need not fear ! ' " Rachel," he said aloud, and though from her dark corner she strained her ears to listen, she could detect no tenderness in his voice. - Rachel, do not weep so bitterly-it is all over now ; > ■: must forget it. No one shall harm you ; no one shall press their claims upon you— do not be afraid— not even I." Once twice, she tried tc speak, and then the words came with a sob :— 1 V: 396 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. " Simon, do you mean what you say— do you mean It? After all you have done for me to-night can you mdeed forget your claims?" He started as if stung : she alluded, no doubt to those debts of hers which he had defrayed. Once before in bitterness of spirit, she had taunted him with having-' bought her ; and now, in this new-found meekness, told herself that he was entitled to the bargain for which he had paid such a heavy price. There was a long silence, and then he spoke with an effort. " Let us understand each other. You are my wife indeed, and after to-night I think that I must ask you to bear my name, and own our marriage ; but since you do not love me, Rachel, it may be best for us to live apart Nay, do not sob so, my dear ; we must make the best of our broken lives, and, after all, you are going back to your mother. There, lie back and ay to rest." " But I— but Simon-oh, I see how wicked you think me. Indeed, indeed, I am not so wicked as you suppose Oh, Simon, I have been reckless and perverse, but I— I swear to you " "Hush, hush," said Simon quickly; "you need say nothing more. I never doubted you, Rachel." His tone was so stern, .o final that she was instantly silenced, and retreated farther than ever into her corner while he sat upright, gazing out into the night By- and-bye the grey shadowy light, which she had seen before on one memorable morning, crept gradually over the world, giving shape and distinctness to the landscape through which they whirled. The dusky silhouette of Simon s face stood out in relief against the pane, growing ever more distinct, until at last its very expression was clear to the wife's eyes. How rigid and fixed were those features, iiow firmly set the lips ; the brows, slightly YEOMAN FLEET >D. ipoke with an 397 drawn together, gave an express!. of sever, v to fh. eyes beneath ; and then-how u o, uL th ff \ weary! ^^a.s th. face, hf w When that other sun had dawned so many ,n. ago, how passionately tender hnrl K. T ""' turned upon her Had ZT ■ " ^^"^ '"'''^ ^^ mornino-i dh r.^ ■. ^'^ "^'^ wedding uiurumg. un, no, no, it was too r^^ai • fi,„ u had been a dream, and ihe was wrki^no v T^f Tt was done could never be undone "''""' They reached London at six o'clock, and there though c":;^^r; hrch""r"'\-'- " "--- Thev re«„m»^ ,1, , ^''*™ ' "*'■ ^°°, had watched. I hey resumed the.r places in unbroken silence and so ourneyed on again halting sometimes to change hors ^ rule's ''tCcol^ "-"^ -^-^'^--. ^- ^efaying a^ woL"'r 'bytiigre td rtLrii; 'x tf' -Lt^irtrerus:::^^^--^'- „ J 1 . cxnaustion was so o-r*^3f and her slumber, like that of all "who left sorrow, so profound, that she was unconscious even o nd rh: hT";"' -"-^^^^'on this proceeding th. I, ''Z}"'''^"'^' --^''^f the renewed motion of ™t„m .e.o.ve had gradually shaped itself in his mind He would reheve her of his presence even while she Zpi. Ill 1 '-I 398 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. hJ sparing her thus further perplexities, it might be, further humiliations. The pain of her home-coming should not be increased by the consciousness of his presence ; she should make the needful explanations to her parents in private, and thus avoid the confusion of acknowledging their relations to each other while he actually stood by. Yes, he would go ; and she on awaking and finding her- self alone would breathe more freely, and be grateful for his forbearance. Now one familiar landmark flashed in sight, and now another : the time had come. How soundly she slept ! Her little face was pale, but looked very peaceful ; the lips had dropped apart almost in a smile, the dark-rimmed eyes were fast sealed — there were tears upon the lashes yet. Poor child ! poor child ! The small hands which had before clutched the folds of the heavy coat so convulsively were relaxed, and lay softly curled like the hands of an infant. Simon bent over them and kissed them very lightly; then filled with an uncontrollable impulse he suffered his lips to rest for one moment on the lips which were so gently smiling. The dark eyes opened, and gazed drowsily at him, and his heart leaped ; but they were full of slumber still, and closed again without recognition. " It was for the last time," he said to himself. " Good-bye, my sweet ! " They were ascending a hill now at a somewhat slackened pace, and he opened the door softly, and, after closing it, dropped behind ; doing all so cautiously that the postboy himself knew nothing of what had happened. • "••••.... The sun was high in the heavens when Simon drew near to his home. He came at a swinging pace across the dewy fields, leaping ditches, forcing his way through the cool dripping branches of the hedgerows, while the "^■n^mmi YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. 399 t be, further I should not •esence ; she r parents in vnowledging \y stood by. finding her- grateful for [ht, and now y she slept ! y peaceful ; smile, the were tears ;hild ! The folds of the id lay softly n bent over lied with an ; to rest for itly smiling, at him, and ber still, and for the last ' sweet ! " 1 somewhat softly, and, o cautiously >f what had Simon drew pace across ij- •..iiiv Oiinrn AS, while the larks carolled above, and the waking nestlings querul- ously chirped. Simon, with his heavy heart, felt himself at variance with this joyous world of spring ; and pressed on, eager to be out of sight and hearing of all those glad and innocent waking things, eager above all to escape from the mavidening thoughts which pursued him. She has no love for me— her love is dead. All, all is at an end ! He had not known with how much hope he had ^et out on his anxious quest, until now, on his re- turn, he realised that hope had fled. Who shall describe the sinking of the heart with which his eyes fell on the old house where he had lived and dreamed for so many years! He would never dream again. But he must live there, live out his lonely life in desolation of spirit. The windows of the oak room were all aglow with the radiance of the newly-risen sun. What was this? one of them was open. Was Susan already astir? With a groan Simon pictured to himself her surprise and joy at his return. And he must smile and make a show of pleasure, and drop no hint of his misery and shame. But lo ! as he drew nearer he saw a figure pass before the windows ; a figure too slight to be taken for Susan's— not Dolly's for it was too tall ; besides, it was clad in white. With a muffled cry he hastened forward, and as he approached the open window the figure in the room turned, and with a faltering step drew near it too. And thus it came to pass that they stood and looked at one another as they had looked on that far away night when she had first taken possession of his life ; but oh, how different was the face which now bent towards him, what meaning had the eyes that gazed into his own! The arch gaiety of the child-maiden was gone, but in its place he read something which Rachel's eyes had never held for htm before : the deep tenderness, the pas- sionate pleading of the woman — of the wife. 400 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. Now her voice came to him — not louder than a whis- per, but he heard. " Simon, you said I might come home — is not this my home ? Oh, Simon, my husband, let me stay ! " These mullioned windows are awkward things, else Simon had been in the room that instant ; his shoulders were broad, too — inconveniently broad ; but for all that he contrived to throw one arm about the yielding figure, and to draw the exquisite face close, close, until it rested against his. "Simon," she murmured, "though I was so wicked I loved you all the time — I loved you. Oh ! when I saw you standing yonder amid that crew — I knew then, Simon, I knew then — and I thought my heart would break ! " Not a word said he ; but even as he clasped her the last cloud lifted, the last shadow of misunderstanding dropped from them, and each knew and understood. How long they stood thus in the sweet spring sun- shine, with the cool air lifting their mingled locks, it would be difficult to say ; but all at once Simon gave a low laugh of supreme content. " I must go in — I must have both my arms about you, sweet." And in another moment he stood beside her, as he had so often dreamed, upon the hearth ; and both his arms were clasping her, and she was telling him brokenly how she had longed to fling herself into them all through that sorrowful journey, but that her heart had failed her. She had meant from the first to seek his home, she said, to throw herself upon his mercy, to beg for his forgive- ness and some measure of his love ; but she would scarce have ventured that morning had she not had a dream that gave her courage. . . . All at once the door was cautiously opened, and old than a whis- is not this my tay ! " d things, else his shoulders ut for all that ielding figure, until it rested i^as so wicked Oh ! when I ■I knew then, ' heart would sd her the last iding dropped t spring sun- gled locks, it Simon gave a US about you, ie her, as he and both his him brokenly m all through ad failed her. •me, she said, r his forgive- it she would le not had a sned, and old YEOMAN FLEP:tW0(JI). ^qi Susan's head was thrust into the room. At sight of the couple by the hearth she uttered a scream of rapture, and rushed towards them, clapping her hands '• It's him ! " she cried, - it's the Master ! Heaven be praised for this blessed day ! " " Did I not tell you," said Rachel, with something of her old gaiety, " that the Master would come soon ' " •• That you did, miss. dear. I couldn't think who twas knockin so early you know Eh, Simon, ye met ha knocked me down ^^i' a feather when I opened door yon and savv Miss Charnock standin' wi' her bare head an th coat draggin' on th' ground, and her bonny dress all draggled, and her white face lookin' Dear o' me it give me a turn. I skriked out, and miss, she stepped past me, and says she, ' Dunnot be afeared, Susan it's nobbut me. Master"!! be here presently,' says she. Well, says I to Dolly, ' if it hadn't ha' been as this heres our gaffer's coat, an' ghostes. so far as I've heerd on, never wears other folk's clooes, I'd ha' said 'twas a J3ut, eh ! I m all of a shake still." "Airs well that ends well, isn't it. Susan?" cried Simon, taking her by both hands. " But you mustn't c ill this lady Miss Charnock any more. This lady is m" Fleetwood. Wish me joy. old woman ; wish me joy - '"' And of a sudden he caught her round the neck, as he had been wont to do in his boyish days. Susan's first impulse was to imprint a hearty salute on her master's bron/cd cheek, but ,n the next moment she pushed him from her. Nay, lad ; dunnot go for to tell me sich tales For shame of ye-makkin' a fool o' th' owd woman " Wed indeed-you as was breakin^ your heart a two-three days ago about the ill news yo'd had. I'll not believe it - wny, wiieer's the ring ? " Silence greeted her words ; and wagging her head 26 i 402 YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. triumphantly, the old woman left the room, pausing at the door to announce that it was enough for her to know as they'd made it up, and were feelin' comfortable together. "Simon," said Rachel, when they were alone, "you must give me back my ring — never, never to be parted with again. No, no — " as, drawing it, from his finger, he would have put it on her own, "not like that— I must be on my knees. Let us kneel down here by our hearth, and let us plight our troth again." The vows which bound them to each other had been made in impetuous passion, with wilfulness of heart ; swift retribution had followed these unhallowed rites. " I knew there could not be a blessing," Simon had said, and he had bent his head beneath the chastising hand. But now, as husband and wife knelt side by side before the altar of their home, and said the solemn words, with what love and fervour, what humble trusting faith, was there no blessing? Did not He who reads all hearts look lovingly upon the trembling hope of theirs, and seal and sanctify this renewal of their pledge ? As they rose to their feet Susan hurried in again :— " Miss, dear, I made bold to send word to Madam as you was here. Eh, she's been in sich a way, yo' cannot think. I reckon she must ha' knowed our mester had gone to look for yo', for she bid me let her know the instant minute he come home ; so when ye towd me, mi!5s, as he was follerin' yo'— though why yo' shouldn't ha' walked one along o' t'other I can't think and 'tisn't none o' my business to inquire— I did send word yon. I ax yer pardon if 'twas takkin' a liberty, but I couldn't but keep my word to Madam." . \ju vju, ^^viiLT^ ilgllt, ^aiu ivav-iici «-uiuUriiig. " i am very glad — Darling mother ! " Wiiii'ilfi-ltlT '^jy^fp^^^^^'^-g*^^ YEOMAN FLEETWOOD. n, pausing at ■ her to know- comfortable alone, "you to be parted his finger, he t — I must be / our hearth, ler had been sss of heart ; I lowed rites. Simon had le chastising nelt side by 1 the solemn nble trusting e who reads ing hope of val of their 403 Almost as she spoke a hurried sound of steps was heard, and Madam Charnock rushed into the room Kachel w s m her arms in a moment, and she held her close m a iong embrace. Then, drawing back, she looked eagerly from one to the other of the radiant faces '' All is well, I see." she said. " My Rachel, you are m safe keepmg at last." Then turning to Simon, and raising herself on tip-toe, she laid a hand on each of his broad shoulders, and lifted her face to his : — " My son ! " .she said. 1 agam : — 1 to Madam I a way, yo' d our mester ler know the e towd me, o' shouldn't k and 'tisn't J word yon. t I couldn't THE END. ; . It r kJUilllg. ■ i ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS.