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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clichd, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche 6 droite, et de haut en bus, en prenant le nombre d'images nScessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. ata elure. J I2X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 A I SWEET NELLIE MY IIEAIITS DELKiirr. r BV AA ALTEK r>ErV "THH (iOI.DEX iiUTTKUFI-V," "WHEN THK Sllll' COMr.S HOME,' "'twas in trafai.(;au's iuv, ktc , hti*., ktc. TORONTO : iiosEBELFoin) rrr,TjsniNO companv. ]\ri)('('L'LXXx. ja Entered aeeordintf t(i the Act of the Parliament of v'anada, in the year one thousand I'iuht hundred and seventy-nine, by Wamkii liFSANT and Jamks Hick, in the oflk-e nf the Minister of Ayrienlturc. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAI'TER T. In Sackclotii A\r» Slavery , r» CHAPTEK II. On :'ower Hill 2l> CHAPTEll III. CiTRTSTOl'HER MARCfr 44 CHAPTER IV. Mv Lord Eardeslev • r>l. CHAPTER Y. HoxEST Thomas 7:*, CHAPTER Vr. A Day ok Fatk 91 CHAPTER VH. Between Life and Death 104 CHAPTER Vni. Home A(fAiN 119 '*-■'> SWEET NELLIE, MY HEART'S DELIGHT. —¥•- CHAPTER I. IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. r^N a trackless countiy, through a forest stretching away for hundreds, and perhaps thousands, of miles — for no traveller has ever yet crossed the great continent of Ameri( a and measured its breadth — there journeyed, slowly and with pain, a woman who some- times carried and sometimes led a little girl i'our years old. The woman wore no hat nor hood, nnd her clothes were torn to shreds and tatters by the thorny briars through which she had made her way. Her eyes were wild, and her face, save when she looked at the little child, was set stern: her lips moved as she went along, showing th^it she was engaged in some internal struggle. The forest since she first plunged into it had changed its aspect. Everywhere now were pines, nothing but ))iiies, growing in clumps, or in belts, or in great masses, in place of the oaks, maples, hemlocks, and birches through which she had passed. -There were no longer any wild vines ; the air was resinous to the smell ; the ground was soft and yielding. In some places the fugitive drew back 6 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVKUY. her foot in dismay, because the soil sank beneath her weight. The sun was making rapid way down to the west; tlio shadows were long; the child dragged its steps, and pre- sently began to burst into a little crying ; the woman soothed her. Presently the little cry became a great sob- bing. "Nelly is hungry," she sobbed. Then the woman sat down on a fallen trunk, and look- ing round her, wrung her hands in despair, for she was (juite lost; she knew not where to go, and she had no food. "I thought to find revenge," she .cried, "and I have found death and murder. Heaven is just. I shall sit and watch the little one starve to death — the child will go first — and then I shall die. Oh! wretched woman, why wast thou born? Child, child," — she burst into tears of despair, and clutched the little one t(j her heart — "curse me with your dying breath. Oh! my little inno- cent, my lamb, I have murdered thee, for I iiave no food, no water. Hush! hush! Try to sleep." She soothed and rocked the little one, who presently, weary with the long day's march, dropped asleep, hungry as she was. Then the sun sank lower; a little more .ind he would have disappeared altogether, and the woman would have been left alone for the night with the starving child: but while the red colour was beginning to spread in the west, she saw, emerging from a clump of pines before her, an old man. He was a white man, but his skin was now dark with exposure to the sun and air; he was clad in skins; he was very old; his hair and beard were long and white; he leaned upon a stick as he went; his steps were feeble; his eyes wandered up and down the glades of the forest as if he were afraid of beiijg watched. Presently he saw the woman and the child, and after a moment's hesitation, he made his way, in a curious and zigzjag fashion, across I- I- 1 f' ^ IN SACKCLOTH ANU SLAVERY. 7 tlie green space whieli lay between liiniself and the woman, and accosted her. " Who are you?" he asked. "A runaway." she replied. "Show nie your liiuid." She liehl out her h-ft liatid; he hidd out liis; on botli was the same mark — the brand of a convict. "I am a thief," she said; "1 was riglitly punished." "I am an Anabaptist," lie replied. "I was punished by the law of the laud. Who is the child ?" "I stole the chiKl. It is my master's. I stole it for revenge because they were going to tiog me. I have brought it all thj way. My food is exhaust(;d and so she will die. And now," she added, with a despairing cry, "I am a murderess as well as a thief and the companion of thieves, and there can be no more hope for me in this world or ^he next." The old man shook his head, and looked at the child still asleep. "Come with me," he said; ''the kittle one shall not die. I have a hut and there is foo 1. both hut and food are poor and rough." He led her with the greatest care across the treacherous quagmire by steps of which he alone knew the secret. "Here I am quite safe," he explained, "because no one except myself can cioss the place. Safe, so long as I am in hiding. This place is an island of firm land in the midst of a bog." There was a hut standing beneath j)ines which grew on ground a little elevated. It was furnished with a few skins, and an earthenware pot of the rudest kind. There was, besides, another earthenware vessel containing wa:er. In the pot was meal. The old man mixed the water with the meal. "When the chdd wakes," he said, "give her some, and take some yourself at once. Now sleep in hope: to- morrow I return." "Oh! do not leave m alone," said the woman, 8 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVKllY. "You are quito safe. I f^o to fotch more meal; there are some friendly blacks who will provide me. Sleep in I)eace." Tiien he disappeared, and the woman, laying the child upon one of the skins and coverin<2^ it with the other, sat beside h(!r wonderinL^ and presently fell fast asleep. In the morning wlien she awoke the sun was already up, and her host was standing in the doorw.iy. Then the child awoke too, and presently sat uj) and ate her break- fast with a heaity good will. The old man leaning upon his stick thereui)t)n began a very serious and solenm dis- course. He told the woman what a wicked thing she had done in carrying away a helpless child to the gieat Dismal Swamp, a place inhabited by none but runaways, and those s(^attered about, difficult to find, and poorly pi'ovided. " Here," he said, " the vhites who have ex- ch'^nged slavery for this most wretched freedom live separately, ea(;h by himself; they are jealous of one another, they suspect each his brother ; and the blacks, Avho live together in connnunities, change their quarters continually for fear of being caught by the planters, who come out with guns and dogs to hunt them down. 1 have had to lie hidden here without fire or food for days, while the hounds followed mv track until the morass threatened to swallow them up. You, who might have courted such a life for yourself, did you think what it meant for a child ? " The woman shook her head. " I have been here twenty yea,rs and more. 1 have lost the count of time ; I know only the seasons as they fgllow. I think that I am over seventy, and when I can no longer beg meal of my friends, I must lie down to starve. I have spoken to no white person except to you during all this time. When I came I had a Bible. That was lost one night of storm. Since then 1 have had no- thing but my meditations and my hopes ; and you— ' 0h^ IN SACKCLOTH AN*D SLAVERY, 9 what Would you have luul ? The concinunl memory of a iminhu'ed child." " What shall I do ? what shall I do ? " she cried'. "Take hack the child; whatev(!r happen at'terwards, take hack the child.'' The littli! girl looked up in the woman's face, and laughed and clapped her hands. " 1 have sinned," said the woman. " Let mc ^ake her hack. God forgive me! She shall go home to her mother." She I'ose at once as if there was not a moment to bo lost. The old Analmptist put up some meal in a bag of skin, and led her again over the treacherous path. " You have lost your way," he said. " I will be your <^uide." He led her by paths known to himself, across forty miles and more of thick forest. When they came near any cleared h nd, they rested by day and travelled by night. After four days of travelling they came to their destination. The old man took the child in his arms and solemnly blessed her in all her doings. Then he |)rayed with the woman for a while, and then, grasj)ing his stick, he dis- appeared in the forest. The woman, left alone, began to tremble. Before her were the broad fields of tobacco belonging to the planta- tion. On the fields she saw the gangs of men and women at work ; the overseers going about among them armed with their heavy whips. Some of the labourei's were white, like herself ; some were black. Far away, beyond the fields, she saw the house. It was afternoon, ^he retreated to the forest and sat down, thinking. Finall}^ she resolved to delay her return until the day's work was done and the gangs had left the fields. It was past seven o'clock and already dark when she came to the house. She told the little one to be very quiet. There was no one in the portico ; but there were 10 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. li^'lits ill t]w statr^ loom. 'I'lic womun openL'd t,lic door and siit tlie little one down. " Jiun to 3 our niotl er, cliild," she wlnsponMl. A pattering of little feet, and a wild cry as the mother snatched np lier lost babo, and then tlie woman, leaning ai^ainst the door, si-^died heavily and sardc to the jj^round. They found her then; — those who camanks of a little river called Cypress Crcjek, which runs through the Isle of Wight County into th(i James Kiver. My father, Robert Carellis, Escpiire, was a Virginian gentleman of old stock, being a grandson of one John Carellis who came to the Province in the sliif) which brought the first company of Gentle- men Adventurers. There were, alas, too many gentlemen on board that vessel, there being fifty of that rank to a poor thro of labouring men. They were too proud to («■ 12 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. .bove the laws and the dangers which surrounded these pi r fellow-sinners working in our fields. I saw how great a lord was my father, for whom not only the slaves worked, but also the overseers, foremen, and cleiks, so that he had nothing in the world to do but to call for his fowling-piece and go a shooting in the woods, or a fishing with his rod in Cypress Creek, or to take his pleasure and his ease with his friends, over claret of the finest and tobacco of the best. We lived in a large house built entirely of wood, like all the houses in the country, and embellished with a wood- en portico after the Grecian style, erected in front ; this served instead of the verandah which most Virginian houses possess. The great chimney, which served for all the rooms, was built of brick outside the house. The room of state where my mother sat was a low room, forty feet long, lit with five windows, opening upon th 3 great portico ; in the summer the glass windows were replaced by green jalousies ; the ceiling was plastered white; the walls were painted of a dull lead colour ; the fire-place and mantelpiece, which were very grand, were made of walnut -wood richly carved by a London workman, in flowei's, fruits, and the arms of the Carellis family gilt. In. the winter there was a screen an(^ a carpet before the fire, but in the summer these were taken away ; the tables and chairs were all from London ; there were portraits of our ancestors on the walls ; there was a genealogical tree cariying back the fatnily of Carellis to a patriarch who lived about the same time as Abraham (it was so stated on the tree), but who is passed over in the sacred narrative because as I always supposed his estate was far from that of Abraham and they never met ; and outside, in the portico, were chairs made of hickory wood with sloping backs, where, in the summer evenings, my father sat with his friends and smoked a cool pipe of his best Virginia. One does not look for books on a Virginian estate ; yet 16 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. we had a goodly library, consisting of Captain John Smith's History of Virginia, Speed's Englisli History, Li vy done into English by Several Hands, the History of the Tui-ks, the History of the Spaniards' Conquest of Mexico, and the True Relation of Bacon's Horrid Conspiracy. These books served for lesson books for myself, though I do not remember that anyone else ever read them. As for our overseers and people, my father was ever of opin- ion, in the which I agree with him, that the arts of read- ing and writing should only be taught to those who are in a position of authority, so that they may with the greater dignity admonish unto godliness and contentment those placed under them. The Church Catechism warrants this doctrine, to my thinking, Our house was, in fine, a country seat which any Eng- lish gentleman would be jiroud to call his own, furnished with guest chambers, dining-rooms, and every sort of convenience and luxury. Behind it lay a great garden planted with fruit trees, vegetables for the table, and herbs for the still-room. Before it was the square, a large cleared ground on the three sides of which stood the houses of the overseers and the slaves. All these houses were alike, built of logs, the windows without glass, the brick or mud-built chimney standing at one end, each with a little projecting verandah or lean-to, and some with a small garden, where the people grew what liked them best. There were stables, too, and coach-houses, with horses, mules, cows, turkeys, ducks, geese, fowls, and pigs. A running stream ran through the square, and, it_cer provid- ing drinking-water above the clearing, became, below it, a gutter to carry off refuse. The pigs ran about every- where, save in the gardens of the house; and here and there were enclosures where fatting hogs lay grunting and eating till their time arrived. It was like a great farm- stead only there were no com ricks; the bains held meal (but it was not grown on the estate) and home-made pork IN SACKCLOTH AND SI.4VEUY. 17 and bacon ; the pigs and cattle, like the slaves, belonged to his honour; all was for him. Beyond the house and square lay the tobacco-fields, and beyond them forest, everywhere forest. Save on that side where you rode down to the banks of the great James River running into Chesapeake Bay, you had forest on all sides, boundless and without end. Unless you knew the forest very well, unless you knew the Indian compass, the hemlock tree, which always inclines its head to the east, and unless you could read the blazings of the trees which pointed to the homestead, you could lose yourself in the forest in five minutes, and then wander round and round in a ring of twenty yards, thinking you were walk- ing straight ahead for miles, till starvation seized you and you fell down and presently dJed. There were oaks, beeches, ash trees, gum trees, maples, hemlocks, in the woods ; but mostly there were ]jines, standing about four feet apart, rising up straight and stately, their branches meeting over head so that the sun and moon and stars and blue sky w^ere never visible, but only a tangled web of greenery which shed a soft green light upon the under- wood. It was very beautiful wandering in that forest, but there were d ingers beside that of losing yourself, for there WC' e rattlesnakes and adders in it, and though the pigs, which ran about almost wild, kept down the ser- pents, yet they themselves were also a danger. The Virginian manner of life was simple, yet plentiful. It becomes not a woman to think over-much about eat- ing, yet I own that the English break fast- tables seem to me put poorly provided compared with those of Virginia. Here, indeed, you have cold meat and small ale in plenty, with bread and cheese, and, for the ladies, a dish of tea ; there you had daily set forth fried fowl, fried ham, bacon and eggs, cold meat, preserved peaches, quiiices,andgrapes, hot wheaten biscuit, short-cake, corn-cake, griddle-cake soaked in butter, with claret or small ale for the gentle- men, and milk or milk-and-water for the women and 1« IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. children. Our wine, cur malt for brewing, the best sort of our beer, our spices, our sugar, our clothes, our furniture, all came from England. For it is a grievous fault in Vir- ginia, and one which I hope may be some day remedied, tiiat whereas the country is oble of iierself to produce everything for necessity or luxury, yet, like that first ship- load of adventurers, she is ashamed to work, and will do nothing but grow tobacco ; so tliat the woods which flour- ish here, fit for the finest furniture, stand neglected and uncut, the fruits which would grow with the smallest can^ are forgotten, the sheep go with their wool unshorn, and the rich-scented gums, the sugar-bearing maples, waste their sweetness in luadino: the balsamic air of the forest un- heeded. The graj)es, which might be used to make good wine rot upon the vines ; the apples, which might be pressed into cider, drop upon the ground and are eaten by the pigs ; the hides of the cattle are thrown away and wasted; the very birch-brooms, the very dairy bowls, are brought from England. Truly it is a wasteful and a prodigal country. It has been divided into parishes — not like your little London parishes, which consist of half an acre of houses, but great broad districts half the size of an English county. To each parish is a clergyman of the Established Church. No dissenters are allowed, nor any meeting-houses save one of Quakers. Our clergyman was paid ten thousand pounds of tobacco for all his stipend ; and as he could sell it for threepence the pound, you will perceive that the clergy of Virginia are better paid than those of England. In addition to their stipend, they receive two hundred ])ounds of tobacco for a christening, three hundred pounds for a wedding, and four hundred pounds for a funeral. Add to these advantages that the clergyman was not ex- pected, as is too often the custom here, to rise from thetable atthethirdcourse,ortodrinklesswine than his host and the otherguests. As, also,it was imposssibleinso largeaparish for more than one or two estates to attend the same IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. 19 church, the rector would make his rounds from place to place, bringing with him sermons full of sound doctrine wherewith to admonish his parishioners. As for our white servants — theconvicts — they hadtheirown minister, a Caml>ridge Master of Arts, and a regularly ordained clergyman oi the CUiurch of England, who for a crime of some kind was condemned to the gallows, and, out of re- spect to his cloth, reprieved and sent to the plantations. Here the rough hardship presently brought him to re- pentance, and being like unto the Prodigal Son when he sat among the husks, it occurred to him that he might, being still a convict, exercise his spiritual function among his fellow sinners, by license of the rector and his master. This being obtained, he held weekly service every Sunday in a barn. I was but a little girl at the time, yet I re- member how I used to read the prayers as having nothing to do with meat all, but wholly with the convicts. They were the miserable sinners; they were those who implored for forgiveness ; it was for them that our convict prisoner prayed, and to them that he preaclied. Certainly my f ither would never have conceived that his own servant should dare to preach to him and his household. He was very eloquent, I remember, and sometimes the tears would run down his cheeks. Yet when his time was run out, and he had gotten possession of a plot of ground on which to grow tobacco, with a sow pig, a calf and a cow, he pre- sently lost his humility, and came to live gallantly and like a fjentleman ; and I never heard that he continued in his days of pi-osperity the godly custom of exhortatii^n to his fellow sinners. Mostly, I believe, when he grew old and respected, he sat in his own verandah and di'ank mobby punch. Thus, then, and in so great state, did we live, in the enjoyment of every luxury that can be procured in Eng- land, together with those which are peculiar to America — notably, the soft sweet air of Virginia. We were, on our estates, our own builders, carpenters, gardeners, graziers, 20 IN SACKCLOTH AND SLAVERY. bakers, butchers, brewers (only we used Eno'lish malt), pastry-cooks, tailors, and boot-makers. We had every variety of lish, Hesh and game ; we drank Madeira, Canary, claret, cider, peach brandy, and apple wine ; we formed a society of gentle folk, separated and set apart from the settlers who had been our bouglit servants, and who bore in their hands the brand which no years can ever efface. We had been cavaliers in Kinij Charles's time, bu6 we stood np for Church and State, and welcomed the Protestant hero, great William the Deliverer. We had scant sym- ])athy with those who would trouble the peace for the sake of a Papist Pretender, who, if all reports were true, was no son of King James at all, but had been brought into the Queen's chamber in a warming-pan. Open house was kept for all comers — all, that is, of our own station, for no peer in England was prouder of his rank than we of Virginia are of ours — and sliould there be a decayed gentleman of good family among us, he might still live at ease and gallantly by journeying from one j)lan- tation to another, only taking care never to outstay his weJ'^ome. And tliis, provided he were a man of cheerful disposition, or one who could sing, shoot, drink, and tell stories, would be difhcult, or well nigh impossible, in a Virginian house. So we lived, and so I grew up ; bred in such courtly and polite manners as were familiar with my mother, the most dignified gentlewoman in Virginia ; taught to read, write, cypher (but ihdifferently), to work samplers, to make puddings, pies, and preserves, to distil strong waters, to brew home-made wines, to say the Catechism and respect the Church, and, naturally, to believe that there was nowhere on the surface of the earth, except, perhaps, the King of Great Britain, a man of nobler birth and grander position than his honour, Robert Carellis, my father. But at the age of nineteen a great misfortune happened to me. The overseers brought from James Town, where i :i \i 1 tjH SACKCLdtfl Al^D SLAVERV. SI they had purchased them, six men who, though we did not know it, where sufferinj^ from gaol-fever. They all died ; two of the overseers died ; many of the people died ; lastly, my father and mother caught the infection and died too. Then I was left alone in the world. Ihadmanycousinstowhom I could go, butby my father's will — made while in full e::pectation of death and in true Christian resignation — I was to be sent across the Atlan- tic to our agent in London, there to remain as his ward until I was twenty-one, when I was to be at liberty to do what I pleased with my inheritance. CHAPTER IT. ON TOWER HITJ. had a favourable voyage of five weeks and two days, with fair weather and no adverse winds until we arrived off the Nore, where we were conn)elled to lie-to liow much more and anchor in the Koads, together with over a hundred other vessels, small and great, waiting for the wind to change, so that we might beat up the river to the port of London. If I was surprised at the sight of so many ships gathered together in one })lace, you may think I was astaiiis£(Jd as -we slowly made our way up the crowded river, and finally dropped anchor in the Pool over against the Towei* of London, in the midst of so many masts and such a crowd of ships as, in my ig- norance, I had never dreamed of There were East In- diamen, dusky colliers, brightly painted traders with France and Spain ; })rodigious great ships in the Levantine trade, armed with long carronades ; round Dutch sloojis, with every kind of pinnace, tender, smack, hoy, brig, s3hooner, yacht, barge, and ferry boat. On all these ships men were running about, loading, unloading, painting, re- pairing, fetching, carrying, shouting, and swearing. It has ever seemed to me strange that the profession of the sea, in which one ought continually to contemplate the danger of sudden death, must needs bring with it, as if it t ON TOWER HILL. 23 Woro a thiii;^ unavoi 24 ON ToWeR hill. What was he like, this formal merchant whose letters I had read ? They were full of the prices current ; they advised the arrival of cargo, and the despatch of wine, spices, furniture, clothes, wigs, saddles, guns, swords, sashes, and all the things which were I'equired in the set- tlement of a Virginian gentleman of rank. But nothing about hinioelf or about his familv. I had not long to wait in suspense. Presently, standing on the quarter-deck With Nurse Alice, I saw the captain shake hands with a young man soberly attired in a brown square-cut coat, with long calamanco waistcoat down to his knees. I had time to look at him, because he con- versed with the captain for a few minutes before the lat- ter led him aft and presented him to me. I set him down at once as a messenger from my guardian, and I made up my mind that his dress, which was by no means so splen- did as that which my fatlier habitually wore, was in the fashion of London merchants. There was no finery ; the cuffs were wide and large ; steel clocks adorned the shoes ; the stockings were silk, but of dark colour ; his peruke was long and curled, but not extravagant ; a black silk cravat, of the kind they call a steenkirk, was round his neck, and his laced linen cuffs were of a dazzling whiteness. This splendour of linen, I learned afterwards, was thought much of by London citizens. On his hands, which were white, he wore a single signet ring. He carried no sword, but a short stick was under his arm. His hat was trimmed with silver galloon. As for his face, I could only see then that his features were straight and handsome. Was he, 1 thought, a son of my guardian ? After the exchange of a few words with the captain, and receiving a packet of pa})ers, he climbed the com- panion, and, taking off his hat, bowed low. " Mistress Elinor Carellis," he said, " I have the iionour to present myself as the alderman's chief factor, though unworthy of that position, and your most obedient ser- vant. My name is Christopher March." I made him a courtesy. ON TOWER HILL. 25 " I hope," I said, " that mj- guardian is in good health." " He suffers from gout, otherwise he is well. I trust," continued the chief clerk, " that you have had a favourable passage, and as much comfort as is possible on board a ship." These compliments exchanged, Christopher March — I call him so henceforth, because he never received any other style or title — informed me that he had waiting alongside a boat to carry me ashore and, that the ship's officers would see all my boxes brought up to the house as soon as was convenient. Upon that I took leave of my friend the captain — an honest, brave sailor, and less addicted than most seafarinjx men to the vice of swearing- -and so into the boat with Alice, my nurse. The little voyage lasted but a few minutes, and we were presently landed at the stairs. Our conductor led us through a narrow lane, with tall warehouses on either side, and paved with round stones, which were muddy and slippery ; then we turned to the right,- and found our- selves in a broad and open space, which was, he told me, Tower Hill, the place where so many brave and unfortu- nate gentlemen's heads have fallen. On the other side I saw the beefeaters in their scarlet embroidei-ed uniform. But I was so bewildered with the noise and the novelty of everything, that I hardly saw anything or heard what was .said to me. But we had not far to go. We passed a w^arehouse four storeys high, and from every story a pro- jecting beam with ropes, which made me think of the gallows. But the beams were only for the pulleys and ropes by which bales were lifted up and down. '* This," said Christopher March, " is Mr. Alderman Medlycott's warehouse, and this" — he stopped at the door of a private house next to the warehouse — " this is Mr. Alderman Medlycott's residence." He spoke of the alderman in tones of such great respect, that I began to feel as if part of my education had been neglected, that part, I m^an, which teaches res:pect to tho 26 ON TOWER HILL. aldermen of London. A thought also crossed my mind that this excessive respect for his master was useful in exalting his own position. •/, However, there was no tim< to think, because the door was presently opened, and we found ourselves in a large and spacious hall, containing chairs and a fire-place, with a stand of strange weapons ; horns, heads of buffaloes and deer, and curious things of all sorts brought to Tower Hill by the Alderman's captains, hung upon the walls. Then the maid opened a door to the right, and I found myself in the parlour of a great London city merchant. The room was lofty, and had tw^o windows looking up- on Tower Hill ; the walls were wainscoted and painted in a fashion strange to me and unknown in Virginia. A soft Turkey carpet was on the floor, a bright sea-coal fire was burning in the fire-place, though the air was not cold to one fresh from the sea breezes ; there was a high mantel- shelf, on which were displayed more curiosities from be- yond the seas, and above them wonderful specimens of ladies' work in samplers, representing peacocks, birds of paradise, landscapes, and churches, all in satin. Seated at one window were two ladies and a gentleman, who rose to receive me. Christopher March, I observed, left me at the door with a profound bow. We made deep reverences to each other, and then I blushed because, although Alice had dressed me in all my best, I felt at once how country- fied and rustic was my appearance compared with the fine new fashions of these London ladies. The elder lady, who was about forty-five years of age, and had a most kind face, with soft eyen, held out her hand. " My dear," she said, " I am Mistress Medl3^cott, the wife of your guardian, the alderman, who is now ill with the gout, but will see you shortly ; and this is my daughter Jenny, who desires your better acquaintance." J enny here in her turn took me by the hand. She was ^ Uttle thing, and so pretty and agreeable w^is her face, with ON TOAVEll UlLL. 27 briglit laughing blue eyes, light brown hair, a dimple in her chin, and saucy lips, that I thought I had never seen the like. Good lieaven^ ! I thought. What must they think of me — ill-dressed, tall, and ungainly ? " Mistress Elinor," said Jenny, " If I were tall enough I v/ould kiss you. As I am not, I hope you will stoop and kiss me. We shall be very good friends, I hope." " I may present my Lord Eardesley," said madam, with dignity. " His lordshii) being here upon business with the alderman, hath requested permission to see" — here she stopped and smiled very kindly — " to see the Princess Pocahontas of V^ircjinia.'' At that little joke we all laughed. His lordship was a young man about the same height as Christopher March, but very much unlike the chief factor. For while Chris- topher had a way of di"op[)ing his eyes when he met your own, and of hanging his head, and in many other ways of showing that he was not perfectly at his ease with ladies, the young lord looked you frankly in the face and laughed, and was not only haj^py himself in being with two girls, but also made us all happy as well. Only this knowledge came later. " I must call you Nelly," said Jenny, pressing my hand. " Elinor, or Mistress Elinor, is too long. How tall you are ! And oh ! " — she broke off, and with a sigh and a laugh — " Nelly the hearts of all the men will be broken. " Pray Heaven," said my Lord, " that the fragments of one at least, be put together again." " This is idle talk," said madam. " Mistress Elinor will despise us after the grave discourse, to which, no cloubt, she has been accustomed in Viroinia." " We had grave discourse," I explained, " when the Reverend Matthew Marling came to see us twice a year. At other times we talked about the crops, and my father's sport, and such topics." Presently Lord Eardesley took his leave with more com- . plinients, When he went away it seemed as if sojne of k 28 ON TOWER HILL. the sunshine of the room had gone with him. To he sure, a great deal of the colour had gone ; for his coat was of scarlet silk, and he wore a crimson sash for his SAvord. " Do not think, Nelly," said Jenny, in her quick way, " that lords associate every day with City merchants, or that we know more than one peer. Lord Eardesley has had money affairs with my father for many years, and the custom has grown up for him to call upon us whenever he calls at the counting-house. Oh, Nelly ! they did not tell us what to expect." "My dear," I said, "you will make me vain. And, in- deed, I am not so pretty as you." " Oh, I ? I am a City girl, little and saucy ; but I know what a beautiful lady of family should be — she should be like you. You ought to be Lady " " Jenny," her mother interrupted, " for shame. As for Lord Eardesley, Elinor, he is an excellent young man ; but he is, unfortunately, very poor, his father having gambled away all the money and most of the estates. Poor young Lord Eardesley will probably have to take service with the Austrian." Jenny shook her head, " He had better carry the Virginian colours," she said, with a laugh. *' Come with me Nelly. I will show you your room," They had bestowed me in the best room on the first floor, which had a little room beside it for Alice. I was at first much awed by the magnificence of the bed, which was much finer and more richly hung than any in our Virginian home. But familiaritv presently reconciles us to the most majestic things. Here I found my boxes and trunks, which had been brought ashore, and here was Alice taking everything out, Jenny looked on, naturally interested at the display of drets, and though she kindly ^aid nothing, it was plairi to me that she found my frocks of a fashion quite impossible to wear in London. Pre- sently, however, we came to my jewel-cnse, wherein ON TOWER HILL. 29 lay all the family treasures, which had been my mo- ther's, and her delight was extraordinary when she had dressed herself up in all the necklaces, bracelets, rings, chains and glittering gauds which had been worn by many successive matrons in the Carellis family. She then threw her little head back, waved her hands, and went through a hundred posturings and bowings. " I am Mrs. Bracegirdle, at the theatre," she said. " This is how she looks and carries her fan, and makes eyes at the beaux in the pit." However, we could not stop playing there, because madam sent word that the alderman whs ready to see me. It was now past six, and candles were lit. Madam her- self led me to the back of the house, where was a covered way to the counting-house. Here the alderman himself was sitting with his clerk, Christopher March. One foot was wrapped in flannel, and lying on a cushion ; a stick stood by the side of the arm-chair in which he sat, with a pillow to give him ease ; bundles of papers were on the table before him. " Come in, my dear," he said, in a cheery voice — " come in. Leave her here, wife, to talk to me. Send for her when you take your dish of tea. Now, Christopher, your day's work is done. Good night to you, and be ott." The words were peremptory, but the tone was gentle. Christopher March bowed low to him, and lower still to madam, and departed. Meanwhile I looked to see what manner of man this guardian of mine might be. He was a man of sixty or so, and he had a monstrously red face, but his nose was redder still ; his lips were thick and projecting, his wig was pushed a little off one side, which made him look, somehow, as if he were going to say some- thing to make everybody laugh. His eyes were kind and soft, and his voice, though a little rough, was kind, too. In fact, as I afterwards found out, the alderman was well known for being the kindest man who ever sat on the bench of magistrates, or ruled a great house with man^ clerks and servants, 30 ON TOWER HILL. The first thing tliat he di 40 ON TOWER HILL, hi the convicts, and the negroes, so that I was sorry to see in this church none but the well-to-do, with the respect- able clerks and their wives. Surely, I thought free-born Britons of all kinds should be brought to the ordinances of religion as much as negroes and convict-slaves. Tiie clergyman who read the prayers was a young gentlemen fresh from the University of Oxford, where, I learn, they for ever run after some new thing. The language of the Prayer-book was not, it seems, to liis liking. He would have " pardons " instead of " pardoneth," and " absolve " for " absolveth ;" but I think his taste was wrong v^hen he chose to read, " endu'um, enrich'um, prosper 'um," instead of " endue them, «Sz;c.," as I had been accustomed to read. While the psalms were singing, Jenny nudged me gently with her hand, and I saw her turn her head half round and look straight across the church. Then she shut her eyes, and gently raised and dropped her head, and I re- membered what she told me about their sighs in church. Sure enough, on the opposite side of the church, was a young gentleman who was affected in exactly the same manner. He did not appear to me to be possessed of a very noble appearance, being small, pale, and with a turned-up nose, a feature which in men should be straight, or perhaps Roman. When we sat down, ou^' heads being well below the top of the pew, Jenny w)^. ^-^red to me that it was Lysander. The lesson for thf ia.^'' was a chapter of Proverbs, and there were in it cei t an verses spoken by King Lemuel which seemed a special rebuke for the frivolity of us girls. '* Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain ; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." The sermon, a very long one under five heads, was preached by the rector himself, in whose face and voice I seemed to perceive some resemblance to my guardian the alderman, for his cheeks and nose were red and puffed, and his voice was thick. He was, in fact, the chaplain of ON TOWER HILL. 41 the Grocers' Company, and, as such, was present at all their feasts. I daresay the discourse was learned and profitable, but I was so strange that I could pay no atten- tion, and looked about me all the while, hoping that no one would notice. Jenny had her carraway comfits to eat, and, the better to raise her thoughts unto heavenly things, she was able to contemplate her picture of Cupid fishing for hearts. xt last he finished the sermon, and we all got up and came away. If the ragged boys had not come to the service, at least they were standing outside the doors, and while we thronged the porch there was a cry of pickpocket, and one of them darted from the crowd and fied through some of the lanet<, folio wed by two or three. The next day, after serious talk with madam, I began to undertake the study of those things in which I could not fail to be ignorant. The most important were that I should learn to dance, and that I should be improved in music and singing, and for these I had masters. My dan- cing-master, who took the first place, and considered him- self an artist of the greatest distinction, was the Sieur Isaac Lemire, a French gentleman of Huguenot descent, born in London. He was a man of little stature some- what over the middle age, with thin features and bright eyes. He was very careful about his dress, which was always in accordance with the most recent French fash- ion he spoke English as well as French ; and when he went out to give a lesson he was followed l)ya negro boy carrying the fiddle with which he accompanied his in- struction. '' Mademoiselle," he said with a profound bow, on being introduced to me, " I am charmed by the prospect of lending a fresh grace to one already possessed of so fine a figure and so beautiful a face. Mistress Jenny, I am your very humble servant. You will, I trust, assist us in our task." Jenny always stayed, parti}' because she loved dancing and partly because the professor talked during the whole 1 il i; 1 1 v< \ i 42 0^ TOWER HILL. lesson, and gave us the latest West End news, which we could not get from the Postman or the Examiner: " A young lady dancing," said the professor, tuning his fiddle and occasionally JJ owing one foot a preliminary flourish as if for a treat ! " A young lady dancing is a brandished torch of beauty. She is then most dangerous to the heart of man : she is then most powerful." Twang- twang. " You will now. mademoiselle, have the goodness to pay attention to the carriage of Miss Jenny while she treads with me the minuet de la cour." It is a beautiful dance, the minuet. My heart warmed for it at once ; the stateliness of it ; the respect for women which is taught by it ; the careful bearing of the body, the grace of the studied gestures, which must be in harmony with the music ; all these things made me love the minuet. That was our first lesson ; but the professor was not contented with the minuet oidy, although that dance was the most important. We had, besides, the English country dances ; we danced the Hey, with Joan Sanderson, the Scotch reel, the round, and the jig. He taught us, besides, the old- fashioned dances, such as used to be danced at Court, the saraband, which Jenny did very prettily, with the help of castanets, and the coranto, and the cotillon. And then he taught us figures of his own country, such as the Au- vergne bourrde, the Basque step, and the jigs of Poitou and Picardy. Once, w^hen we were in the midst of our lesson. Lord Eardesley paid us a visit. Then it was delightful to practise with him as a partner, while Jenny played the spinet and the professor the violin. And his lordship and the professor, and Jenny, too, all said kind bliings of my grace and quickness in learning. So began my new life, with kindness, hospitality, and afiection, such as I had not looked for nor expected. When the alderman gi-ew better, I found him the most delightful of companions, full of stories about the great- jiess of London, and the vastriess of her Qommerce. I ON TOWER H^.L. 43 was troubled, however, in my mind when I thought what he would say if he knew that his wife secretly took money from Christopher March, and that his daughter, by help of the same agent, was carrying on correspondence with a secret lover. As for Nurse, she began by being heavy and dull, whereat I guessed, rightly, that she was thinking over that bad part which never left her mind. She spoke little of it, but once when we were crossing Tower Hill, and I gave a penny to a ragged brat, she began to cry gently, and told me that she liad once a son who might have been like that poor boy, as friendless and neglected. " And their end, ,my dear, is to carry a musket for sixpence a day and so get killed in battle, or to go a-thieving and so get hung." After a while, however, she cheered up and found her way to the place which most delighted her, the still-room. Here she sat among the bottles and compounds, making lavender water, ratafia water, decoction of primroses for toothache, cowslip wine, elderflower wine, and elderberry wine, preserving poppy heads and camomile for fever pains, horehound for coughs, and trying all the thousand receipts which a woman of her condition of life should, if she be a notable woman and take a pride in her own knowledge, understand perfectly. And madam said that she had never a still-room maid M'ith half her handiness and knowledge. Hi Mil CHAPTER III. CHRISTOPHER MARCH. ' ^ ATURALLY, I had to unlearn a good many of the opinions which I had learned in Vir- ginia. For instance, I thought there that in England everyone was honest except those few exceptions, who, being caught, were either hanged or else branded in the hand, well-flogged, and sent across the seas to us. I now learned that for one so caught there were a hundred thieves at large, and that every unknown person was considered dishonest until the contrary was proved. A., for my ideas of religion, it was always difficult for me to believe that the fine ladies and gentlemen in the City churches were so devout as our poor Virginian convicts. As for our amusements, I could not learn to like cards, because it seemed to me cruel to take the money of a player who could not afford to lose it. But I liked the City shows ; when we could look on from a window and see the processions, the Lord Mayor's day of state when he sat in his gilded coach, preceded by the train-bands, the City companies, and the masons, singing, ** Hey ! the merry masons ; Ho ! the merry masons," as they went, whiie the cannon were fired and the bells clashed. On the Fifth of November they carried Gog and Magog through the streets with more bands. Sometinies the CHRISTOPHER MARCH. I'D butchers made a wedding merry-making with bones and drums ; at Christmas the \vaits came at midnight- Sing luKh, sing low. siii.a to and fro, Go Wll it out with Kpectl ; and the mummers came without being invited— Turks, sweeps, kings and queens — and frolicked among us as long as they listed. And at the New Year we had parties at which the alderman would have no cards, but only the merry old games of blind man's buff, hot cockles, and country bumpkin. On Twelfth Night we looked for the bean in the Ccike. In the spring, when the flowers came, whenever there was a City rejoicing we had gardeners' walks made in the streets and lanes with green arches and rows of flowers — lupins, bachelor's buttons, peony roses, ribbon-grass, and the like. There was, indeed, no lack of amusement for me, a girl who had seen so little. It took me long to learn the value of money. To teach it was the alderman's share in my education. He gave me whatever I wanted, but made me enter it in a book which he kept for the purpose. I put it down on the left hand side ; and on the right I set out all that I had bought. It was a record of vanity, for the most part, and my cheeks burned while the alderman read it aloud. " To laced gloves, two shillings ; to satin for a frock, five guineas ; to hooj)s, for ditto, twelve shillings. Truly, my dear, no husband will be wanted to teach thee how money may be spent. Let us consider how it has been made. These gloves of thine stand for eight pounds of tobacco ; this satin for four hundred weight — a grievous load of tobacco for your slender shoulders. How many naked wretches have risen early and toiled all day in the sun beneath the whip to sow, plant, weed, keep clean, pick, and roll this tobacco before it could be sold or ex- changed for thy satin frock ? They have fared of the worst, these poor creatures, and toiled the hardest, all that I' 46 CHRISTOPHER MARCH. thou mightest go in satin and hoops. Of a truth, my dear, thy lines have been cast in pleasant places." The alderman, to be sure, had his own weaknesses. I might have asked him, for example, why he ate turtle soup and drank the strong wine of Oporto, when so many boys were running ragged and uncared for about the streets. Nevertheless, his words were timely, and made me understand what a thoughtless girl was I who could, without reflection, thus waste and lavish the money which the labour of so many poor wretches had been given to save up. And yet, whether I spent the money or whether I saved it, made no difference to the convicts or the ne- groes. Their labour went on just the same. For my poor servants the curse of Adam might have been differ- ently pronounced : " In the sweat of your brow i^hall ye earn your mistress's goods." But the thing which most astonished me was the con- versation of the young ladies who called upon Jenny and me, and were our friends. For, when we were all alone together, they talked about nothing but love-making and how to attract the admiration and attention of men. For my own part, I suppose that if I had ever thought about it at all, I had considered it likely that I should some day marry some one, and so dismissed the matter from my mind. The ordered course of things would come in due time. But these girls were continually thinking and talking about the lover of the present or of the future ; they had their little secrets, and would show each other songs and verses addressed to their fair eyes, just as Jenny did ; they discussed the beaux, their dress, their carriage, their impudence, or their wit (mostly, I believe their wit was impudence) ; and they openly pitied, or derided, any of their friends who had failed to find a lover, and 'was destined to lead apes in that place which frivolous and thoughtless persons are too ready to name lightly. " Were you not so tall, Nelly," said Jenny, when I first remonstrated with her on this idle talk, " I would pall CHRISTOPHER MARCH. 47 you little Puritan. But prithee consider. If it were not for the attention and thought thai men bestow upon us and we upon them, what would become of the men ? It is for their own good, my dear, more than for ours, that we seek to attract their foolish eyes." Here, indeed, was a pretty turning of the tables. " No man, my dear," she went on, laughing, " can pos- sibly make any figure in the world until he begins to hope for our favours. Then, indeed, he pays attention to his figure and his manners, learns to talk, dresses himself in the latest mode, carries himself with a fashionable air, and becomes a pretty fellow. Then, to attract the eyes of one of us, he studies to distinguish himself, and when he cannot succeed he tries to be different from hisfellov/s, and commits a thousand pretty follies. I have hej,id of some who, while they said their prayers night and morn- ing, pretended to be atheists, just to be talked about ; and of others who, with voices as clear as a bell, pre- tended to lisp or leave out their h'w or roll their r's ; and of others who, even while they were i hurting and imploring their nymph to appoint a day, would rail at large against the tedious chains of marriage ; and of others who, to be thought men of fire, would join the scourers and Mohocks, and run about the streets breaking windows with half- ponce, overturning constables, blackening sign posts, and fighting porters, and all to be talked about and seem clever or distinguished. Such, my dear, are a few of the benefits we confer upon our lovers." Jenny stopped and laughed again, but she was half in earnest. " What part does Lysander play ? " I asked. At that she smiled and blushed prettily. " Lysander," she said, " has ofiended his Clarissa. I have had enough verses, and I have M^itten to say that if he wishes to gain my favour in reality, he must now, in person, inform me of his rank and name," "Good heavens, child ! " I cried. " Do you mean that 1 48 rJHRLSTOPHEll MARCH. you have been in correspondence with a man whose very name you have not learned ? " " 'Tis even so," she replied, laughing. " No harm has been done, my fair Puritan princess ; Clarissa has written nothing that would hurt lier reputation ; trust Clarissa, wlio is a Londoner, for taking care of herself. As Ly- sander prettily says, ' Clarissa doth command an awe, that would straight confound the great Bashaw.' He may be a lord or he may be a templar ; I fear he is the latter. But wdiat a noble air he shows, particularly when he sighs during the Psalms ! " I thought of his turned-up nose, and was unable to agree with Jenny, but did not tell her so. " Well, but, mad girl," I said " if the favours of fair ladies convert honest men into fantastic fops and mid- night brawlers, I cannot see how their attentions benefit us." " My dear, we make them study manners and be- haviour. They, for their part, make us dress. Oh ! what a vast, what an incomparable blessing tliis is ! They provide us with continual reasons for new frocks and ribbons. Po you think it is to please myself that I am taking a world of trouble with this sarsnet hood and have spent all my money upon these double ruffles and this furbelowed scarf ? Why, for my own part, if I did not consider my duty, I would as lief go in a straw hat and a .stuff petticoat, like Molly the milkmaid. Princess Pocahontas wore feathers mostly, I believe. But depend upon it, Nellie my dear, they were the finest feathers to be got. Dress is the handmaid of love, and we who would fain be loved must needs go fine." This was the burden of her song that she who would please the men must still go fine. Poor lit*^le Jenny was full of cleverness as well as of follies. She \, as a foolish virgin who ought to have been a wise one. The one thing which displeased me at this time was the constant intrusion of Christopher March into "all our plans and CMRlStOPHER MARCH. 40 conversation. Wo could «^o nowhere Avithoi'fc ineetin<;' him, and then he would walk with us ; if we were play- ing or singing he would join us without being askecl ; he generally took dinnei with us, and on madam's evenings was always one of the comi)any. That did not matter much but for his attentions to me, whicli were incessant, especially before company. It was as if he wished the world to consider me as his property. Of course I was not so foolish but that I understood the meaning of his politeness ; a week of Jenny's talk had V)een ;:utHcient to remove the ignorance of my Virginian days ; but natur- ally, being a Carellis, I was not so mad as to think of encouraging the mere clerk of my guardian, a paid ser- vant, to aspire to such a thing as man*iage with me. My only difHculty was to know how, without being cruel and unkind, I could get rid of the man. I suppos id, and rightly, too, that it was he who sent me verses and e}>istles w^ritten in the same extravagant fashion as that followed by Jenny's Lysander, and signed " A Lover." I kept them all carefully and said nothing even to Jenny, ijut I told Nurse Alice, and bade her watch and lind out by what means they were conveyed to my bed room. Alice presently informed me that they were pLiced on my table by Prudence, the housemaid. 80 I sent for the young woman and roundly taxed her with the ftict, which she confessed with tears and promises of amendment. " But, girl," I said, " who gave you the verses ? " At first she refused to tell me, but being pressed and threatened, she owned that it was none other than Chris- topher March. And here I made another discovery. Not only had this man won the alderman's complete con- fidence by reason of his industry and zeal, not only had he got a hold over madam by secretly giving her money, and over Jenny by conniving at her correspondence, but he had made the very servants afraid of him by acquiring a knowledge of their secrets and letting them feel that WW ) '': 50 CllUISTOlMIEU MAUCIl. their situations and character depended upon his pleasure. When 1 understood the state ol' the ease 1 consicUired wliether 1 ()uth. He was found l^'ing on a doorstep one cold and wintry day in March, barefooted, barelieaded, stupid with cold and hunger. My father had him taken to the kit- chen to be warmed and fed. Then, seized with pity for a boy so forlorn, he gnve him to one of his porters to be brought up at iiis expense. Tiien he sent the lad to school, where he got on, being tjuick and clever. Finally he took him into his own counting-house, and gave liim a chance to rise in the world, as so many poor boys have already done in London. Methinks he has risen already high enough." D 54 CHRISTOPHER MARCH. X would go to Let us leave Christopher March for the present, and talk of more pleasant things. I have said that Lord Eardesley once or twice called upon us when we were with Monsieur Leinire, the danc- ing-master, and took part in our lesson. During the winter he came but little, to my chagrin ; because, having then no thought of what was to follow, I found his man- ner and discourse pleasing. He brought new air to the house, and talked of things which otherwise we should not have heard of. It did us all good when his lordship came in the evening and took a dish of tea witli us. Then madam forget her cards, Jenny put on her finest airs, and the alderman, who generally despised tea, joined us and told stories. The best tea-cups were set out — those, name- ly, brought from Canton by one of the alderman's sea- faring friends — the reserve or company candles were lit, and the tea brewed was stronger and better than that which we allowed ourselves. After tea we the spinet and sing, Jenny and I in turn or together. Those were pleasant evenings, but there were few of them. My lord was a most cheerful and agreeable man, witliout any of the fashionable affectations of which Jen- ny had told me ; full of sense and understanding. Ide did not waste the time in paying us foolish compliments, and when he spoke of himself, he laughed at his own la- mentable condition as an impoverished peer. He told us once, I remember, that he seldom dined at his friends' houses, because he could not afford the vails expected by the servants. So the winter passed quickly away, and the spring came upon us with those easterly winds which in Eigland do so poison and corrupt that sweet season. And with the spring of the yeir 1720 th it fatal midness. which will ever ba rernsrnberei, fell upon the nation like a deadly pestilence. Surely it was wor.se than any plague. I m^an the miii3ss of sp3Culation, when all the world dreamed of not'iin^ bub suldan fortune j. The infection •X..,™. C'HUISTOPHEU MARCH. 55 spread through all classes ; and among those who trafficked in shares, stock, and scrip, were noble lords, knights of the shire, estpiires, grave lawyers, and even divines, to their shame be it spoken. To everyone alike came the same delusive vision. Companies were to be formed whose shares sliould make everybody rich ; inventions were to be made by which one crown should become a thousand pounds ; hencefortli tliere should be no more labour, toil, and thrift, l)ut only s[)ending and enjoyment. As if a whole nation were to be made suddenly ricli, and the curse of Adam were to be removed from one people — and that people so wicked and undeserving as the English. But, as the year advanced, the attention of everyone was settled upon that great bubble, the South Sea Company, whose stock advanced daily till it reached seven hundred, eight hundred, and even a thousand pounds. I kntw little, indeed, and cared nothing, because I understood nothing, of the general greediness, yet we heard daily from the alderman, at dinner and supper, how the shares were fought for, and what prodigious prices they fetched. And once he took me to the Exchange, where 1 saw a crowd of finely-dressed ladies and gentlemen mixed with a throng of merchants and tradesmen, all struggling, fight- ing, and shouting togethei*. They were buying and sell- ing South Sea Stock. The street posts or the backs of l)orters served for writing-desks ; he who had a bunk or a stall commanded as much rent as if it had been a great house in Eastcheap ; and, in that crowd, a petty huckster of Houndsditch, if he had but a single share, was as great a man as a lord. " See, Nelly," said the alderman ; " the love of money is like the hand of death ; for it strikes at all alike, both rich and poor." The alderman, who believed that Sir Robert Walpole was the greatest and wisest of statesmen, took fright when he heard that the minister had spoken in the House vehemently against the South Sea Scheme, to which, be- >4 oC CHRISTOPHER MARCH. ( If fore this, he had perhaps secretly inclined. " It was a lu'oject," said this great man, " which would lure many thousands of greedy and unwary people to their ruin ; holding out i)romises which it never could keep, and ottering dividends which no scheme ever devised could maintain." Where, too, asked my guardian, thus fore- warned, w^ere the oj)en })ortf' which Si)ain was to give for the South Sea trade? Whv, if pM this wealth was to be created, should not the Spaniard, who is not a fool, create it for himself ? Out of what mines, fields, and cultivation are these precious things to come which are to make us all rich ? If it were ]>roposed to grow I'ich by trading with his Majesty's plantations and colonies, there might be something in it of a reasonable and modest kind, but to grow rich upon the Spaniard's leavings, that, if you please, said the alderman, ought not to commend itself to the judgment of a sober man. Therefore he refrained from meddling wnth the project, and, as need not be said, held aloof with equal scorn from the hundreds of ])rojects by which men, as spiders catch the silly tty, spun webs to catch the heedle^-s, the unreasoning, and the greedy. While eveiybody else was mad with this dream of wealth, we in our house were full of our own thoughts, • careless of the tumult which laged in every heart. As the spring advanced, Lord Eardesley came oftener, and w^ould go with us when we drove out to take the air. London is a great city, indeed, but it is richly provided wdth fields, gardens, parks, and })laces of recreation. We could drive to the spring gardens of Knightsbridge,to the bowling-green of Marylebone ; to tlie fields beyond Isling- ton, where we bought cakes ; or to those of Stepney, where there is another kind of cake ; or to the walk of Chelsea, where there are buns. We could go farther atield and visit Cane Wood and Hampstead, or to the gardens of Bayswatering, beyond Hyde Park, where they sold syllabubs. We were a gay and happy party when- ever we had his lordship with us. And for one thing I IJ CHRISTOPHER MARCH. 57 am gi'atoful, indeed, to Jenny, that though she suspected what was corning-, slie was so good as not to spoil the in- nocence of my happiness by telling me her suspicions. One evening in A?pril — ah ! happy evening — Lord Eardesley took us to the theatre. Suppose you were never to go to a theatre at all until you were nineteen years of age ; suppose you had read of a dramatic performance, but never seen one : and suppose you had no idea whatever what it would be like. Then think of going — for the tiist time. It was to Drury Lane. We drove to the doors, where we were met by my lord, in brave attire. He led us to the first row of l)oxes, where, for tlie most part, only ladies of quality are found, the wives of citizens commonly using the second row. Truly it passes my power to ex- press the hapj)iness of this evening and the sj)lendour of the scene. The pit contained only gentlemen, but the boxes in which we sat were full of ladies dressed in extra- vagance of splendour of which 1 had never dreamed, nor Jenny either. But the patches spoiled all ; nor could I ever, although for the sake of the mode I wore two or three small ones, reconcile myself to the custom of stick- ing black spots over a pretty face. The house was bril- liantly lit with many thousands of candles. I say n^. th- ing about the pla^\ except that the players did so artfully represent the characters that you would have thought the house, with all the audience, a dream, and only the play itself the reality. Yet I was astonished to find so many fine ladies whispering, laughing, and flirting with the fan, while the most moving scene and the most elo- quent passages failed to rouse their interest. " You know not your sex, fair Virginian," said Lord Eardesle>', when I ventured to take this objection to the behaviour of the spectators. " The ladies do not come here to see, but to be seen. They are the principal spec- tacle of the house to the gentlemen in the pit." 58 CHRISTOPHER MARCH. And then I observed that, althougli I myself could see with the greatest ease whatever was done upon the stage, and the faces of the actors and actresses, a large number of gentlemen, especially those of the younger kind, were atlected with a sort of blindness which forced them to carry to the theatre the little magnifying tubes which I had seen in church. And such was the strange callous- ness of these unfortunate young men to the piece per- formed, that many of them ut the side of the })it stood with their backs to the stage, and, with their tubes held to one eye, surveyed the glitt .nig rows of beauties on the first tier of boxes. " Nelly," whispered Jenny, " you are the prettiest girl in the house. Half a hundred beaux are gazing upon you." In the delight of the play I forgot the annoyance of this attention, and, perhaps, Jenny was mistaken. When we came away at the falling of the curtain, we found the entrance-hall lined with a double row of pretty fellows, all hat under arm and right leg thrust forward. One of them stepped audaciously forward to the fro^tand offered to lead me to the (^oach. " This young lady, sir," sa^d my lord, " is of m.y party. We thank you." The young fellow said something about pretty faces and hoods, upon which our escort stepped forward and whispered in his ear. " I am Lord Eardesley," he said aloud. " You can find me when you please." I did not know enough of polite customs to suspect that the altercation might possibly, although so slight, lead to a duel. Alas ! that this custom of duelling should make every young man hold his life in his hand : so that it is less dangerous to cross the Atlantic Ocean, or to travel among the Jndians of Western Virginia, or lo serve a campaign against the Turk, than it is to live in London for a season CHRISTOPHER MARCH. 50 — I mean for a young gentleman of birth and rank. As for j)lain citizens, I have never heard tliat the custom of tlie duello has been brought into the manners of the Lon- don merchant. I thought little that night of the matter, my head being full of the wonderful play. But the next day when I was sittinjj alone and feelinir a little sad, as is the way with foolish girls after an evening o^ great happiness, Jenny burst in upon me in a half hysterical state of ex- citement. " Nelly ! " she cried. *' Have you heard the news ? They have fought, and my lord has pricked his man." " What do you mean ? " I asked. " You rer.iember the dapper little man at the theatre last night,who insulted us by calling us pretty gii Is — the wretch ! As if we did not know so nmch already. 'Twas an officer in the Guards. Lord Eardesley fought him this morning in the Park with small swords, and ran him through the left shoulder. He is as brave as he is gener- ous." It was *^aite true. Our evening's'pleasure had ended in two gallant gentlemen trying to kill each other, and one being wounded Surely the laws of honour did not need so tragic a co: iclusion to so simple an adventure. Nevertheless, !'. was proufl of Lord Eardesley, and rejoiced that he was so brave a gentleman. He came that evening. Madam was abroad, playing cards. Jenny and I were alone ; and presently Jenny rose and left the room. She told me afterwards that my lord had asked her to do so. Then he begged permission to speak seriously to me, and my heart beat because I knew, somehow, what he was going to say. That is, I knew what hir speech would contain, but I could not guess the mannei in which he would say it, He began by saying that he was the poorest man of his rank in Great Britain ; that all his wealth consisted of a iv #-1 CO CHKISTOPHER MARCH. barren mountain, a marshy valley, and a ruined castle in Wales ; that, in ottering his liand to a rich heiress like myself, he should be accused of fortune-hunting. " Nay, Mistress Nelly," he went on, " I must confess that at first my thoughts ran much upon the money of which you are possessed. That was the reason why, having had the happiness of seeing you, I came here once or twice, and then ceased my visits. But," he added, " I was constrained to return. And having come, I was drawn daily by irresistible io})es to the shrine of my affection." He took my hand and held it. " Nelly, rich or poor, believe that I love you tenderly." I made no reply. Oh ! that life could be one long rap- ture such as that which followed when he took me in his arms and kis.sed my lips. I cannot write more of that moment. It would be a sacrilege of that first baptism or sacrament of love when we promised oui* hands and hearts to each other. Presently, however, Jenny came back, discreetly knock- ing at the door 3 little witch ! " Jenny, my u»,c*. ," cried my lord, " come kiss me." He laid his hands upon her shoulders and kissed the pretty little laughing thing as gaily as if a kiss meant nothing. Heavens ! what had it meant to me ? See this P.-ince.ss of Virginia, this queen of fair maidens — she has promised, my pretty Jenny, to be my wife." " No — not a queen at all," I murmured, while Jenny tlew into my arms au'l kissed me again and again. " Not a queen — only my lord's handmaid. It may be that I have found favour in the sight of my king " *"' Not a queen ? No," he replied, kissing my hands. 'No — not a queen — only my mistress, sweet and fond — only Nelly, my Heart's Delight ? " ^■M CHAPTER IV. MY LORD EARDESLEY. HEN my lover left me he immediately sought the alderman in order to convey to his worship the substance of what he had said to me. My guardian heard the story patiently, and then falling into a kind of muse, sat with his head upon his hands, saying never a word. " Why, sir," said my lord with some heat, after waiting for a repl};, " surely ^ my proposal hath no dishonour in it. I can but offer Mistress Elinor what I have to give. It is little, as you know, besides xny hand and a coronet," " Sit down, my lord," said the alderman gravely. " I have much to say." He then proceeded in such terms as would give the young suitor as little pain as possible, to remind him that his own estate. , save for the mountain and valley in Wales, were gone altogether, and that by his father's rashness over tlie garni g- tal)le, so that had it not been for the small fortune leiu him by his mother his lordship would have nothing. But, said the alderman, the lack of for- tune wo^ild have been a small thing, considering the ample inheritance of his ward, w^ere he assured that none of the late lamented peer's weaknesses had descended upon his son. Lord Eardesley must excuse him for speak- 62 MY LORD EARDESLEV. ing plainly, but it was rumoured, rightly or wrongly, that he himself wns addicted to the same pernicious hal)it. Heie my lord protested strongly that the rumour was based u})on no foundation whatever in fact, and that ho never gambled. " Indeed," the alderman replied gravely. " Then am I rejoiced, and I hope that these words of yours can bo made good." After this he became more serious still, and, speaking in a whisper, he reminded the young lord that there were other sins besides the grievous sin of gaming, that many — nay most of the young gentleman of rank took a [)lea- sure and pride in deriding and breaking all God's laws ; that they were profane swearers, proibssed atheists, secret Jacobites, duellists, deceivers of maidens, and con- temners of order ; that the voice of rumour had been busy with his name as concerns these vices as well. Here Lord Eardesley protested again. He would con- fess to none of these things. A duel he had certainly fought only a few days before, but that was in defence of two ladies — in fact, Mistress Elinor Carellis herself and Mistress Jenny, the alderman's own daughter; but, he added, he had spared the life of his adversaiy, and only given him a lesson. That personally he abhorred the cursed laws of so-called honour which oblifjed a gentleman to risk his life or seek to take another life at any fancied insult. As for the other vices mentioied by the alderman, he declared that he was not guilty of any of them ; that his life and conversation were pure, and his religion that of his forefathers. " It may be so," said the alderman. " Nevertheless we do well to be careful. The young lady is an orphan ; she hath neither brother nor near relation to protect her should her husband use her ill ; she is a stranger in the land and ignorant of the wickedness of this great town ; like all innocent maidens, she is accustomed to look on every stranger, if he be a gentleman, as a good man ; she MY LORD EAIIDESLKY. 63 admires a gallant carriage, a noble name, a long pedigi-ee, a handsome face — and all these, my lord, slie admires hi you. Then, she is a great heiress; her husband will have, with lier, a hundred thousand pounds in bonds, scrip, and mortgages, and none of your perilous South Sea stock, besides a great estate in Virginia. Think of all this, my lord. Consider further that she hath been placed in my charge as a most sacred trust by my far-off cousin, Robert Carellis, now deceased, out of the great confidence which he was good enough to repose in me — and own that I do well to be careful. Remember that she is all virtue and innocence ; and, that according to the voice of rumour, you, my lord — pardon the plain-speaking — are addicted to the — the same manner of life as most young noblemen. Why you would be a wicked man, indeed, if you thought that I should easily consent to her marriage her, should thank heaven continually that we are not tempted, in the same ■way as our bet^^rs, to overstep the bounds of the moral law. No dicing, no profligacy, for the sober London mer- chant." I understood presently, that I was not to see my lord until the ahlerman was perfectly satisfied as to his private character This gave me no uneasiness, as I was so as- sured of my lover's goodness that I felt no pain on that score, and was only anxious for the time of probation to be passed. Morever, he wr6te to me. It was a great pleasure that he did not address me as Flavia or Clarinda, or by any of the names in fashion. I was plain Elinor, or my dear, and he was Geoffrey, Lord Eardesley. The letters stated over again, with the great candour which always distinguished my lover, the smallness of his own resources, compared with my wealth, and he regretted MY LOlU) KAUDKSLEY. 65 lieartilv that ho couM otter iik; ik) more than liis n?un« and liis rank. He fori^^ot, poor fellow, that he was olier- \n\f nie liimself, wljieli alone was worth naini', an«l rank and fortune, and evelythin^^ And what was I, I thoniijht — a poor inexperience (Jolonios — tliat he should fix liis attections upon me ? " You are," said the alderman, " a j^reat heiress. You an^ worth a Plum." His lips sliapetl tl.iemselves into a round O as if it luul ])een an e^<^ }»lum. " A plum does not drop into the m nth any day, my dear, nor does a «j^reat estate in Vir;^dTiin. Moreover, you are a veiy heautiful young lady, and, I believe, as j.;ood as beautiful. Therefore wonder no move at my loid's ch( i^'o, but pray Heaven that he may prove worthy of tliy love." Now a thing happened (hiring the time when my lord wjxs conferring with the alderman concerning liis suit, wdiich caused in my mind a little surprise, but Avhich I thought no more of for the moment. It was this: Outsichi the house mv Lord's servant, hohbng his horse, was waiting for his master. It was midsummer, and the evening was (piite light, One does not in general ])ay much heed to mei -servants, but this fellow caught my eye as I stood at the window and wondered what my guardian would say. When the mind is greatly excited a little tiling distracts the attention for the moment and gives relief. Therefore I observed that the groom was a rosy-faced fellow not very young, but fresh of cheek, who looked as if he had come up fiom the country only the day before, so brown and rustic was his appearance. In his mouth there was a straw, and his hair was of a bright red, of the kind called shock. While I was idly noting these matteis I saw Christopher March standing by one of the i)Osts of the street looking, as men will '/or on his iace; and again, after a few momejits' talk, the look of relief. What they said was this, as nurse told me afterwards. She touched his arm and said sharply : "What are you doing here ? " Then it was that he turned pale. "What are you doing. Canvass Dick ? " Upon this he staggered and nearly dropped the reins *'Who — who — who are you?" he asked. MY LORD EAllDKSLEY. 07 "Never mind who 1 am. It is enough that I remember you and that you are CanvassDiek, and thatwhat 1 know- about you is enough to liangyou any day." Then liis knees trembled and liisjaws chattered for fear. "It is nigli upon twenty years ago," he said, "since I heard that name. Too long for anybod}' to remember; and, besides what is it you know? Perhaps, after all, you are onl}'^ pretending." "Then will this help you? A man and two boys, one of them fifteen years of age, that is yourself, a'^'^ one six or seven years younger ; a house in the Ratcliife High- way; a great robbery of jewels, planned by a n>an and carried out by the boldness and dexterity of the twoboys; and " "Hush!" whispered the valet, " Don't say another word. Tell me who you are." " They call me Alice," said nurse, looking him straight in the face. "That does not help you much. If you want to know more I am nur^^e to Mistress Carellis, who lives in this house." The man stared hard at her. ",No," he said ; I can't re- member who you are. Do yoa mean mischief, or do you mean halves ^ " 'First, what are you doing here?" "I am groom to Jjord Eardesley." He grinned from ear to ear. " Who would think to finni to Lord Eardesley, are you? Oh I" and here a sudden light sprang into her face. "And what," she asked with a catch in her voice, "what became of the other boy?" Honest Tumman hesitated. Then he replied, taking the straw out of his mouth and stroking the liorse's neck: "Why — the other \K>y — the little 'un — he was hanged, he was, a matter of five years ago, on account of a girl's ))urse which he snatched in the fields beliind Sadler's Wells." 68 MY LOUD EARDESLEY. "Oh !" slie groaned with a kind of despair. "It was the end to be looked for. It is the end of you all." "Ay," he said ; " give us a long day and plenty of rope. Then we climb the ladder gaily and kick oft' the shoes, game to the last." She shook her head. "Well," she said, "now I know where to find you, I must use you for my own purposes. Come here, if you can, to-morrow evening at nine, and I will ask you certain (questions. Be sure that you answer me truthfully." "Then you don't moan mischief." "IfyouMirve ViC faithfully I will not liarm you. If you dare to j)la>^ false I will tell his worship. Alderman Medlycott, whi you are, and give evidence against you at Newgate." The man still hesitated. Presently, however, he held out his hand. Honoui-, he said, was the only thing upon which poor rogues an«l gentlemen of the road had to depend. And as he was satisfied that the mjod lady nieant him no hanm he would meet her the next day and take her to a quiet place in the fields where they could talk. Here nurs.- laughed. "Thou art a villain indeed, Dick, but put that thought out of your mind. An old woman like me may l»e knocked o' the head, but suppose she writes a histoiy of 'i'homas Marigold and lays it in a place where, after her murder, it might be ft)und !" Thomas laughed at this and protested that he was a most honest and harndessf(illow, and that he would cer- tainly come and answer all her(iuestions. That night, nurse, Jenny, and I had a long and serious talk toij^^ther in mv chamber; so lon.'elly ! "' Jenny cried, kissing me b ^ore she went to betairs to lier own room — and I began to un- dress. " As for my lord's character." said nur.se, " the alderman may make any en([uiries he plea.ses. But I have a surer way to find the truth." In ^^wo or three days she told me that she had lea 'ncvl all. L-^rd hjardt-h'V was the most quiet and steady ^ iiniirnian in London. He was studious, and read and wrote a great deal. \r\. the evening he might be seen at a coflee-house or at the i)lay. He went but little into 70 MY LORD EARD£SLEY. society. He neither drank nor <^^aniblod. He atten kinewildere(h '• Consider for a moment, chiM, what a dreadful thing it is to be the wife of a gand)ler. At the hegimiing of an evening's play lu> hath a nohle fortune, say, pei-haj)s, a hun MY LORD EAKDEST.EY. I returnod sadly. Jenny and madam knew \vliat had l)ccn done, and we sat and cried tooretlier. Presently Jenny whispered, " Wliat if Lysander should prove a gandiler I " "All the sorrow in the world/' said madam solemnly, " comes from the extieme wickedness of man. AVhat vice is so terrible as the love of [,^'^nun^ ? " 1 thoiiijlit of her own ])assion lor cards and wondered. T know now, that people are never so virtuously indig- i>ant as when they denounce the sins to which they are themselves most prone. Before night a letter was brought to me. It was from my lord. " Dearest and best of women," he said, and I seemed to feel ai^ain the touch of his hand and to hear his soft and steady voice, so that my head swam and my heart sank, "I have received a letter from the alderman in which 1 learn that I possess such vices as initit m(\ for your hand. I know not, in very truth, what they are. Have courage, ]ny resently see, was Chi'istopher (yf^)^))^ March. So far, we knew no more against ^-^^^ ^ the alderman's factor than that he consented to receive .Jenny's secret letters, advanced money to madam that she might pay her card debts, and knew all the little doings of the maids, so that he could threaten theni into obedience. We were to learn before long that his power in the house, tlie confi«ienee of his master, and his [)osition, were all used for our own undoing, and that if seven devils po.sses.sed thesj)iritof Thomas Marigold, .seventy times seven held that of Christopher March. When the valet found that all the old woman wanted was authentic information onthe })rivatelife of hismaster, he was greatly relieved, and swore that nothing l)ut truth should pass his lips. And then he revealed so sweet a picture of a virtuous life, that the tears came into my 'ness wi' ey prj my first I heard it from my nurse. An end, now, to those fears and anxieties which, in spite of faith in my lord would sometimes darken my soul. IIONKST THOMAS. '^''^ J)Ut one day, slioitly after licr first discovory of the servant, Alico found out tli(.' chief cause (jf tlie Al(h.'rnian's ])rejudic(' against my suitor, Jt was caused, indeed hy no othei'tlian Tlionias Marigold hiiuseh', at tlie instigation or the l)i(hling of C'liristoplier March. It was in the niorninix, and tiie dooi- of tlie outer othce was open. Alice, wlio was in the fore-yard, saw the valet walk in, a letter in his hand ; he lianded this with a rev- erence to (Christopher, who in his turn carried it into the innei otHce to his master. Alice waitedClirislopher. Then, loud again : "I am sorry, Thomas, to hear it." "J)runk again last night, sir," the inan went on, in a louder key, "and at the gaming-table till three this morn- ing. Such a life ! 'twould kill an ox." " 'Tis pity," Christo])her sa^id, glancing at the door of the counting-house, where his woisliip was listening to the talk, pen in hand. "Pity. Tell me, good man, couldest thou not, respectfully, put in a word of advice ? " "Nay, sir," said Thomas; "lam but a i)Oor servant, with m}' character to keep." i HONEST THOMAS. To "But yoii miglit try. Is his temper quick ? Louder, this time." "As for his temper," Thomas lifted up his voice and laughed, "'tis a word, and an oatli, and a hlovv. One poor fellow, as honest and sober a creature as walks, his lord- ship disabled by breaking three ribs, so that he now goes with short ])reath, and is nothing but astable help or does odd jobs, and lives on cabbage-stalks." Christopher groaned. "A spendthrift, a gamester, a brawler, and striker — what a cliaracter is this for a Christian man ?" Just then tlie alderman came out with money in a little bag of brown sackch^th. "Be careiul, good Thomas," he said. "Tliere is the money, and here is a note for his loids]n|). Be careful ; rogues are abroad. But yesterday sc'nnight an honest clerk carrying two hundred pounds to a goldsmith in Lombard Street was tripped up, so that he tell and drop- ped the bag, which when he recovered his feet was gone." "I will take care, sir," said Thomas. So he made a leg and came away. But outside the house he found Nurse Alice. "So," she said, "I shall, after all, have to make an end of thee for a black-hearted and lying villain." "Why mother, what is the mattjr?" "I have overheard all that you told Christopher March but now." Thomas changed colour, but presently laughed and whistled. "Phew!" he said. " Why, is that all ? I have told you no lies, mistress. Be sure of that." "Then why tell lies to him, for the alderman to hear ?" "That is a little business between me and the respect- able Christopher, mother." "You and Christopher ? What has Christopher got to do with you?" 7(] HONEST TIIOMAb. Now vvu all know — nurse as well as tlie rest (jf us — that ( 'lnistoi)]ier had been picked vip out of tlie street; yet it did not j)eeur to her that there could possibly be any ac(piaintance between the chief factor and this pro- fessed thief, so «,Mvat is the power nf line clothes. Thomas Marit^ndd chewed his s^raw for a few nionjcnts before he answered. "Suppose he wants tlie alderman to believe that Lord Eardeshiy is a lad of spii-it and a ^^alhtnt player, and sup- pose he pays me to say .v; ; think you i should refuse his money (" This seemed [)lausible, because the fellow nv\ cr pre- tended to any k'ld ot honesty. He wodd bear false witness, just as he would cheat, lie, and rob for money. " He a gamester I" (continued Thomas, with a laujLjii of superiority. "A dull and tedious gentleman, who spends his time a-r« .tding Now, mother, 1 don't tell you no lies. You go on a trusting of me, and m.'ver mind what I tell the alderman to please that Christopher. Set nn u[)! "But tell no more lies about Lord Eardesley. Mind, Dick, that is my l.'ist word. Jfl Hnd you out again I shall act at once." "Between the pair of you," said Thomas, scratching his head, "a man's fairly sped. Look you, mistress, for a spell I nnist do what he wants." He jeiked his thumb over his left .shoulder to indicate Christ (>[)her. "Curse him ! You don't think I like him. Uunninganother man's neck into the noose, and keeping his own out.' This he said in a lower voice. "Only you wait a»da\ or two, and [ do no more service for Christopher March." " A day or two." She thought very little mi.schief could be done in so short a tiuK;. " What service doth he require of you besides that of lying;'" "None," he replied, quickly. "Oh, don't you go to think that I would do anvthing di.shonest, mother. Come . now, a poor man may repent and turn over a new leaf.* HONKST THOMAS. 77 "Ay," saiwamp, and a ruined castle in Wales which lie could not sell ; that he was not ver.sed in those artsby which men become lich; that he had no party in politics- and th;it he could court no man's favour for place or pen- sion. Indeed, he spokeof himself at all times with the true modesty which (!vei' attends virtut*. Jenny knew that I was in communicjition with L(;rd Enrdesley, and drli^jj-lited inth(,' contemplation of an amour whii-h possessed the first element of intriyue — namely that it was carried (m in opposiiiun to tlu' will of my ^nianlian. This reminded lu'r ly Jis if 1>^ liad l)oeii Mr Aloxaiidci- l'oi>«^ liiiusi'll'. And oveiy Sun- day we saw liiin atclnncli, lanLruisIiint^ ai^^iinst a pillar, and trv'ii"'' liis best to look as if the idea of liis.ronnv had driven iVoui liini Ids sympathy with the (*hui'ch Service. Jenny used rei,nlaily every week to call i.iy attention to Ins nohle carriji^^n:, and the stamp of ^n-ntle hirth which she remarked in his face. For my own part, this was not a fact so apparent. Nor indt-ed, did Lysander ever suc- ceed in commendinj.? himself to my ^^ood o])inion. Me- thou<,dit his face was mean ami his hearinj^ atlected. But I woidnt Jenny was set ui)on her lover jtrovingto }»e of ;j^en tie hirth. "Wliy," .slie asked once, " if the man really wants mc, cannot he see my fathei-and tell him so :* " "Because," 1 said, "that would be too commonplace a plan, and your lover would fain,l)ein,i,^ a poet, nourish liii passion in i-hymes a little longer — perhaj)sas long as your patience will allow. J'ray, Mistress Jenny," 1 asked, "do you, too, reply with a madrigal, and send him a sigh in a sonnet." Jenny hlushed. "Girls," she said, pui-sing up her i)retty lips, "must not be asked the little .secrets of their courtship. My Ly- sanderis satisfiei' Loid l^jiidL'slcv to he ft' r»'j)ii'srntc(l in the ))la('k«'st lij^ht ; that was coiiinion rt;- vciinrc iijx.ii iii(.. \V«' also saw ch-arly that th«i aMcinian tMjuM easily he hroii^'lit to lirlicvc that Chiistopher as well as himself had Imch deceived liy th(^ servant. i\o\v, two days al'lei" 'J'honias Mari^^old openecl himself on the suhjeet of ( 'hi'istopher March, hecaiiievol- untaiily and fii^hteiied us out of our senses. Fiist lie said that he wanted the youn;^ lady to hear what he liad to tell. When 1 was fetched, he told us that lie was j^oin_t;t(> leave the serviee of his Lordship in a dayor two; tliatas he could do no more for us than Ik; had done, he wished to tell us tliat (.'hristo])hei- Maich was a hlack- hearted villain, who would stick at nothing; thathe hated Lord Kardesley, and would do him an ill turn if he could ; that ho Would nevei" lest till liis lordship was mined, and that, in the end, he wouhl he the ruin of every one wlio had l)enetit<'(l him. Then Alice asked him how it was that he knew (,'hris- topher so well. The fellow i-epli«'d that ])erhaps lie would tell her when next tlioy met. AJeantime, lie said, he had warned us, and his mind was clear, 'While I was with his lordship," he achled, " no Iku'iii should be doneto him ; but after 1 leave his sei'vice 1 cannot answer foihini." Then we ])eL;an to look at each other and to tremble, and I lined the man's palm with five pieces of ui-old for his honesty. "I almost wish," he said, puttiiijj ujt th<' money, "that I liad come to your ladyship first. Anyhow, thein lies about liis lordship are soon set right." So he went aAvay, and we began to consider wliat was best to be done. "The man will tell us," said Alice, "no more u'lan he chooses. If he goes away to-morrow from his lordship's JiJ,r,«fcB^. 80 HONEST THOMAS. 1^ soivice, I shall not see liini again. That is very certain. How can we pi'ove anything against (Jhristophei* ? " Notliing would be proved, hut it would he well to set Lord Eardesley on Ids guard and to inform liini of what had passed. We decided, at length, tliat we would go ourselves to his lodgings on the morrow, and lay before him the whole matter. So far, very little mischief had been done. Tlu^ cha- racter of a man of honour and virtue had been malignefl, but only in the ear of the alderman, who would easily be led back to his former confidence, That is what we said to each other. Alas ! we little knew all the nnschief that had been done, and was, even then, on the point of dis- covery. While we talked, the alderman sent me an invitation to converse with him. He was si^tlerinii* from another attacl: of y'out — an un- fortunate thing in all i-espects, because it prevented him from getting about and making those en([uiries into the private life of my lord, as he had promised. He was now, being dependent on the reports ofChristopher Maich and the man, in u'reat mental trouble about Lord Eard(.'slov. " I do not diso-uise from mvself, my ward," lu; j-aid " that an alliance with a nobleman of his exalted rank (albeit his estates are small) would have been gratifying to your lamented father, as it would, under other cinunn- stances; to myself. Yet the ])i'ofligacy of the young man is such that no hope can be entertained of his amendment before his final ruin overtr.kes him.'' " You know of his pioHigacy," I replied, " only by report and rumour. Have you asked any of his friends about him ? " "His friends, child ? 1 am a plain London citizen, and have no acquaintance with noblemen. Besides, they would be, do'ibtless, all of a tale. But I have clear proof. Not only hath his man confessed to Christopher Marv.'h, in my hearing, that his master gambles, but to pay his HONKST THOMAS. 81 g<> losses lie sends to mo sometimes dailv, someti'iies tlirice a wei'k, for money. V<'ry soon, sooner than his lordsliip tliinks, there will !•' an (Mul. I)oth he hojje, then, to send your hnndreil thousand >.onnds after hi^ own hundreds? My deal', should I be an lionest guardian did 1 counsel thee to n»arrv a jxamestei' ? " Tlie good old man ! It Avas tlie last time tliat T received any admonition from iiim at all, almost the last time tliat 1 ever saw him ; because his troubles beij^jin almost on tliat very day — with my own and Jennv s and mv lords and even n»y nurse's. J confess I was sta'^iifered at first. I must needs believe in my lover's truth and ti(h'lity. Whit has a ^^iil to trust in, if slu! cannot trust hw lover ^ \vt tlwit lie slutuld send nearly e\eiy day to the alderiuMU for money when he liad so little left, and wIk.'U his lodgings were so mean and ill- }/;-o|)ortioued to his rank -why, what did that mean '( I went to my riurse aiid consulted with her, She, too, began to fear that the man might have played us false, and that the information which he gave to ('hristoj>her March was true. 1 say she began to feai' it, because, al- though liei" words were braxc, and she bade mi' go on trusting in my lover, yet I saw her kind eyes troubled as she sat down and bade n)e be silent while she thought. " Yi)U nuist set! him at once, my de.u-," she said. " There must be no time lost. Vou must st'c him somehow l>y himself, and speak to him, and ask him what it means. Let me cousidei'." 1 could not ask him to the house, because he had j>ro- mised the alderman that he would not come v'ithout his ])i'rmission. It would be best, on all accounts, t(j seek liim secretly. J might go to the ^lall, in St. James's Park, and trust to the chance of meeting him. Hut, then, the chance was small, and the mol) was so gieat, any an old nurse, was a perilous thini^, indee(|. it was oidy H. vv(!ek sinc(! some footpads had actually stoj)[)ed a coach at KniL,ditsl)rid!.,fe, and rohl)ed a^'entleman in it of Ids^^^^old watch and cliain, and twenty ^old pieces. And there were stories of Mc^hocks, as the younu" LJ-entlemen wlio ran about the streets at ni^lit to knock down constables and ti_L;ht })orters, called themselves. ( )nce they jnade two ladies •4"et down from their coach and dance a minuet with them on the pav(!ment of a court in Fleet Streiit. After the ininu(;t, tliey kissecl them, and sent them on tlu^ir way. Still, we WM'r(! not L'^oiuL'" into tl I le CO untry or as lar as th(! iitdds of Kni^htshrid^'e, and we were; not j;oinL( to he out ]at(! at nin'ht, And then tluMc was t\\v, necessity of seeinir mv ,' h)rd as S(jon as possibh In f nie 1 consen ted to ^o. (jrlad am J now and tliankful for a i(;.solution wliich, if anytidrig could liave been, was an in^]^n•atiou from ILuiven, and served to save, out of the general wreck, at least one pair of hai)py lovers. This, then, was decided. iSurse went away to buy the masks and hoods. 1 stayed at home and went on with ni y usu al wor INIadi im, 1 d remember, was more tl lan HONEST THOMAS. 83 usually talkative, and ped out of tlie room, and fjund my nuise waiting forme with the masks and the ho< t!s. J did not tell .leiniy anything, and, indeed, thouj)k('('|>ers nii^^ht find a more convenient method of adveitisini;' their l;(m>(Is than by lianLdni^ out a s'lixn whieh is so heavy that it I'eatens to drau* down the front of the liouse, and so jiois\ tliat it keeps one awake at niij^ht, and so surrounded l>v .le olher ijfreat si^^ns that l)assers hv cannot set^ it. When we e-ot through Temple J)arwe made better way, and after a little turlln'r delay at Charing ('ross, we finally ani\ed sifely at J^u ry Sti'eet. Jjut Ins lonUhi)) was abroad, \\ )v did tlie maid know with any cei-tainty when he would w u. We sent for Ins serv.int. When Thomas saw us, lie became sr»ddenly pale. "Man!' cried nui'se annriU'. "What ails ITun ? One would think he had never set eyes on ns before." He recoverc'l, but showed such hesitation in his man- ner as made me sure that there was somethinn' wro...-. "You would see my lord i " he said. "His lordshipds abroad this eveninijf." "Where can we find bin), Thomas ?" I asked. "Our business with him is lu'gent." He hesitated a^ain. "1 know where lie is,"' he rej)lied at last., "He went to the Ko\al ('hocolati' House, in St. James' Street, intend- ing to go afterwaids to the Theahe in Lincoln'.s Inn Fields, iiut he met some ^friends, wdio have taken him instead to Covcnt Gaiden, to the house kept by one Dun- ton." HuNEST THOMAS. 8j "Wliiit is tliii house kept for?" I asked. "Andean ladies get in " "It is ke;^ for music, dancing, supper, and gambling. Ladies cm go in if tliey liave the pass-word." "But how can we get the pass-word? Can we not send for my kn'd?" Tiiomas shook liis liead. Then lie considered, and presently said that he might be able to get us the pass- word, because the ])orter was a friend of his. He also as- sured us that though tlie company was not entiiely what I might wish, we need be under no apprehensions of ill- usage or insult; and that indies, especially court ladies, often put on a hood and mask, and so disguised, went to this house, or to Cupid's Gardens, or the Folly on the Thames, for a frolic — where they could see without beinir {•een, and watch their lo^'ers or their husb-^ ds. Truly, it seemed a chance. If my loi J was what this ereatui'e had told his confederate, now was the time to find him out ; if not, then we had i)roof to the contrary in our own hands. So, with Thomas on the box beside the coachman, we drove to Covent Garden — oh! the crowded, dirty place with its piles of cabbage-stalks ! — and presently jstopped at a door where there was no light. We got down and told the coachman to wait forhalf an hour. Then Thomas knocked gently, and the door was opened by one of the 1 ^^'ijfest and most ferocious-lookinLT fellows I ever saw. ixfter a little parley, he let us in, and called up the stairs, whereupon anothei* tall bul-y a))peared, bearing a light. "This way, ladies," hesa''l. " Up the stairs. Have no fear. There is goodly company here to-night." There was, indeed, a goodly company. Many ladies were jiresent, all of them like ourselves, with hoods and masks ; some alone, but mostly in pairs, They walked about the rooms, which were en suite, and all brilliantly lit with wax candles, talking incessantly to the men, some of whom they ach'ressed by name. The men seemed fautfM-jwiinffmn SO HONEST Til >MAS. to consist almost of tlie very rieli class, so splendid were their liieed ruHles and tlieii* conts ; and n|)on their faces then; was mostly tliat assuivd look which one never finds except amonj^' •^^entleman whose position and rank camiot be (juestioned. It is not pride, nor is itarro- gance ; it is simj)ly the satisfaction which naturally i^rows upon one who can without challenirc standamonn- the first, who is born tocounuand, and who fi-om childhood upwards is oV>eyed. I knew the look well, because the <,^entlemen of Vivi^'inia, born upon their plantations, anut no one as yet was eating or drinking. Then we canu; to the third room, where there were tables set with cai'ds a!id count- ers and parties were sitting at them playing ombre and quadrille, just as madam at home, at that same time, was playing with her friends. Lastly, there was the fourth room. And this was crowded. F(jr here they were gam- blinor indeed. At a table sat one who held the bank ; he played against all ; a pile of gold was before him ; a man stood on either side of him raking in the money and pay- ing it out; round the table were clustered a gioup of players, men and women. Several of tlie women had dis- carded their masks and thrown back their hoods ; one or IIONllST THOMAS, { w.'Uit to see my lord mixed up in a vulyar lirawl at a c\>nnuon uaminy house, j^ot \\]\ b\ a ('iU clerk, Alice it was who accosted hiu». " My lord," she naid, in a low voice, " this is not a wdiolc- Home air i'ov you. l^etter leave it." He huikt'd Miuprised. He did not recoynize her voice. " Why not wholesouK', fair incognita i" " Because, tirst, Mistress C'arellis would not like it." '* What (h) you know of Mistress ( 'arellis '{ " " C.'omo with me," she said, " and 1 will show you — what it will please your lordship to see. ' I had descended the stairs, and was waitim;-. We Avent out, all three together. I got into the carriage and took off my mask. "\Nelly 1" he cried, springing into the coach after me. "My .Nelly! He.o:" " It is for your sake," I said. " There is mischief brew- ing against you." " What mischief ? " IIOXKST THOMAS. M!) " First tell mc — nay, iny lord, leave my hands aloiu'. TIds is snious. 'I\dl inc^ why it is that yon send vour servant to the aldcruian tlniee a week tor money i " Me started at this. " Thriee a week ! Nelly, I have not asked the alder- man for mon( V tl H'se Th tl d U'ce montlis th Tl I en, who us was a picttv said he vy\\\\\\ not rea)eeause Mistress Elinor Carellis has told me a thing which surprised me greatly, let me know when last you honoured any draft of mine." "Surely," said the alderman, "yesterday morning, and the day before, and twice last week, and I think three times the week before last " "Stop. The last draft I sent to you for cash was more than two months affo." "What;" cried the alderman. "Say that again." "I repeat that the last time I drewuponyou for money was more than two months ago." "Then there has been villainy. Elinor, go call Chris- topher March. Christopher," he cried, in quick and pe- remptory tones, " my lord's book, and quickly ; and all his latest drafts, all his drafts of the last six m.onths. Quick, I say." The clerk obeyed, and brought the books, standing be- side his master as if ready to answer questions. But his hands trembled and his eyes were dropped. The alderman seemed changed suddenly. He, the most gentle of men, was now rough, quick, and even rude. " Now, my lord," he said, snatching the drafts from Christopher's hands. " We shall see. Your man brought the drafts and received the monc y. Where is he ? " " Gone. He went away, witlnut notice, last night." " Thai is suspicious. Could he write ?" " No. ile was a common counliy lad, out of Glouces- tershire, he said." " Well, then, here are the ch ifts, which we duly l.ion- oured and cashed. Look at th( iii all, my lord." Lord Eardesley looked them through. The earlier ones he laid aside. Those dated during the last eight weeks he put together in a separate pile. " There " he said, " are the forged drafts." 94 A DAY OF FATE. They represented the sum of two thousand and fifty pounds, so that the moneys belonging- to Lord Eardesley still in the alderman's hands now amounted to no more than three hundred pounds and some odd shillings. " I wonder," said my lord, showing one to the alder- man, " that so clumsy a cheat was not suspected." "Why, indeed," the alderman was looking at the paper, "it is not like your lordship's writing. Christopher, you received and opened the letters. Had you no suspicion ? " "I looked at the signature, sir," replied the clerk ; and if you will look at that carefully, I think you will agree with me that it is so like his lordship's writing as to de- ceive anyone." "Let me look," I cried. "My lord, I have certain letters of yours by mo which no one, I think, will deny to be your own." In fact there were then lying in my bosom a collection of the sweetest letters ever received by love- sick maid. I pulled them forth, and. taking one opened it and laid it beside the draft. " There my guardian," Isaid, " compare the two." There was no comparison possible, because in the forged draft the body of the document was not in the least like Lord Eardesley's handwriting, and the signature alone had been imitated, but this so clumsily that even the slightest acquaintance with his hand should have been enough to detect the forgery." "Wily," said the alderman, " this is palpable. This is so gross a forgery that even Christopher March hast, thou taken leave of thy senses ? " " With submission, sir," said Christopher, speakingslow- ly and steadily, "am I to blame ? 1 am imperfectly ac- quainted with my lord's hand; I received the letters from his servant : I opened them to save you trouble " "Ay, ay," said the merchant. "You did your best Chris- topher, no doubt. The house has been robbed, not you my lord. The house must bear this loss." A DAY OF FATE. 95 "Surely my kind old friend," Lord Eardesley went on, "you might have asked yourself for what purpose I want- ed these constant supplies, for what extravagance and follies tliey were required." " Alas ! I knew too well. They were wanted, I thought, to repair >'our losses at the gaming-table." Then I spoke. "The alderman has been greatly deceived, Geoffrey, in this as in other things. I know that your servant, Thomas Marigold, suborned by a person who was also, I believe, the forger of these drafts" — here I glanced at Christopher, and his eyes, full of fearful curiosity, met mine for a mome.xt before they fell again — " reported in the alderman's hearing, day after day, tales of drunkenness, gambling, and othei- wickednesses such as gentlemen practise who foi_Lr<'t their Christian profession. And these stories he invented to suit the purpose of this other man with whom he shared the proceeds of the crime." "We seem to be surrounded bv villains," said the alder- man. " Speak, Christopher, what do you know ? " " Nothing, sir. I suspected nothing. It is true that the man told me in your hearing the stories of his lord- ship's alleged profligacy." " He did. But those other reports. Why, C'hristopher, 'twas you yourself brought them." Lord Eardesley drev^ himself up, and turned towards the clerk, who was trying his utmost to preserve an ap- pearance of composure. * " You — you spread reports about me ? Pray, Master Clerk, what business have you with me? " " None, my lord. Nor am I a carrier of tales. I but answered a question of the alderman's, and told him what had been said at the coffee-house." Then my lord recollected what I had told him, that it was none other than Christopher March himself who had suborned his man, and was proposing to do himself somo harm. M :i ^li 96 A DAY OF FATE. m i " Well," he said, turning it off for the time, " there will be something to bo said another time between you and me, Master March." " Mr. AMerman," I struck in, fearful that the villain should be too soon accused of the crime. " Let us address ourselves to the forgery. The servant was but the tool. We want to find the instigator and principal." Ti.:^ papers were lying close to the hand of the clerk. 1 snatched them up. " We must find the man who wrote the drafts ; it matters little who presented them. I venture to advise that the alderman initials every one of them, and that my lord keeps them, and carries them about. It will not be difficult," I said this with an air of confidence, " to find out the man who wrote them." " You are right, my child," said the alderman. '' I will not keep those papers ; Lord Eardesley shall have them, with my name to each. My lord, I confess to you that my opinion was formed by the bad reports brought to me by Christopher Marcli, and by the tales I heard your ser- vant tell, and by the rapidity with which your fortune was wasting away." " Nay," said Geoffrey ; " surely you should have known me better, who have known me so long. Do I look like a drunkard ? Hath my face the open and manifest signs, legible to all the world, which belong to the man who drinks much wine ? Believe, me, sir, on the honour of a peer, that I have never in my life touched cards or played with dice." * "I believe you," said the alderman, holding out his hand. " If," interrupted Christopher, in a strange strident voice, " if Mistress Elinor thinks it easy to find the forger, she would perhaps kindly advise us which way to begin, for I confess I am at fault," " You have to find out, Christopher March, in the first place a man who thinks he has an object to gain in rob- bing or inflicting other injury on Lord Eardesley ; he must A DAY OF FATE. 97 his ' next ' be one who had some previous friendship witli tlie servant ; lie must be a man in want of money for his own secret vices ; lie must be wicked enough to conceive and bold enough to carry out so vile a plot. Indeed, I could lay my hand on such a man." He lifted his face, and tried to meet my gaze, but he could not. "All this helps noth'ng," he said. " Well, Christopher.' said the alderman. " Go now, and think, or consult a lawyer — leave me with his lordship." Christopher took hi.^j departure. I longed to tell the alderman what we knew, where we had seen his clerk, and what we suspected ; but I refi'ained. I thought the next day would lay, actors, and everything. I sat in a dream, thinking of what had happened ; wondering if it were true, and fearing that 1 did not possess attractions enough to fix the affections of so handsome, gallant, and noble a lover as he wdio sat by ray side. At last it ended, and we were on our way hotne. The streets were crowded w^ith peo])le — link-boys ran up and down ; the coaches rundiled along the way ; we passed out of the broad Strand into narrow Fleet Street, and in a few minutes were set down in Tower Hill, at the door of the alderman's house. My lord paid the man, who drove otf, and we stood at our door waiting for it to be opened. It was about half-past eleven, or a little be- fore midnight ; the sky was clear, and there was no dark- ness — only twilight. At that hour Tower Hill is comparatively deserted ; there was no one in the street. Yet in the darkness ot a pent-house higher uj) the Hill I saw the forms of two men lurking, and a thought of uneasiness crossed my heart. But only for a moment. Madam went in as the door was opened ; we stood out- side, and my lord took my hand and held it. " Will my Nelly, my princess of Virginia, always trust her love ? " he whispered. "Always and always," I replied. " Oh, who am I, I ask again and again, that yoU should love me so ? " " You are the dearest girl in all the world," he said kiss- ing my hands. "You are my own sweet Nelly." A DAY OF FATE. 101 He drew mo towards him hy both my hands and kissc But no one went to bed that night. *^^'[in/ Presently there was a knocking at the door, it was a pair of constables bringing with them a wounded man. "He will be broughthere, sir," they explained to the alderman. " We know not if your worship knows him." "Know him !" cried Lord Eardesley, "Why it is my own man, Thomas. You, too, among the murderers ? " "Yes, my lord," said the man, whose face was pale with death. " I'd rather help you to die than see myself hung. There was all them forgeries in your pocket." "Who was the forger ? " asked his master." The fellow was silent. " Man ! " said the alderman ; " you are on the brink of eternity. Let it be reckoned as proof of a death-bed re- pentance that you give up the name of the forger." Thomas laughed. At the point of death he laughed. But it was a laughter without merriment. " Honour among thieves," he said. " Let me see the woman, Mistress Carellis's nurse. I want to speak with her." She would not leave my bed. But the doctor promised that if a change took place she should be called. And then she came slowly downstairs. Ik A DAY OF FATE. lOJl After id iu- l ami in2 to rouf^H m will \\ her, • • sleep learn- , was a nan. to the s him." is my S ? e with hung. link of )ed re- lughed. lee the with )mised then " Alas ! " ,sh(* cried, " that you should be a inui'derer,and that you should uuirder tlu^ innocent young lady." " 1 did not," ho said. " 1 tried to kill my lord, to save my own nock. An " My friends," said the aldennan tryinj^ to aHsnino a calm which he did not feel, " help iiie in this trouble. Is there witchcraft in it, think you i " " Nay," replied the elder merchant. " But such villainy as tlie world, thank Heaven ! seldom sees. Where is this mail, this Christopher March, that we may bring him to the gallows ? " He never came back. The game was up, he felt, when the stock, which|wasat one thousand on August 1, steadily went down and nevei- recovered, day by day, its figure of the day before. Then despair seized him. Nothing now could save him. And on the morning after his des- perate assault upon my lord, he vanished on the first ap- pearance of visitors to his master. ^ hardly know why he tried to nmrder Lord Eardesley. My fortune was gone ; my lord's was gone ; the moneys entrusted to the alderman were all stolen and wasted. As regards the forgeries, they were but a small tritle in comparison with the rest — the countless pile of frauds, forgeries, and deceits, by which he had carried on his wicked course, and lulled his master into confidence. Why, then, did he try to murder my lord ? Perhaps, be- cause this crime was the first discovered, and if followed up would lead to the discovery of all the rest. But one never knows the secret springs of action in the career of any man, even a good man. Let it suffice that Chris- topher March was a murderer, if ever there was one, though his victim escaped him. Now, all that day the alderman sat, steady as a rock, in the countincj-house. Little bv little the whole truth was got at. One man after the other called ; one after the other revealed a fresh tale of treachery. It is true that most of the frauds had been committed quite recently, and evidently with a view to meet the most pressing claims rising out of old ones, so as to put off the evil day as long as possible. By nightfall the poor old man knew ftll. He bad lost not only his own fortune, but his good IK) UETVVKKff LtKK AND nEATtt* name. Hardly a merchant of credit but had been cheated by him, that is, in liis name ; those who liad entrusted their money to liim — the poor widows and orphans — luid lost it ; the gentlemen adventurers of Virginia who had made him their banker had lost all their savings ; men like Lord Eardesley who had deposited with him their few thousands found their little fortunes stolen. I, the great Virginian heiress, who had inherited the thrift and accumulations of three generations of prosperity, had lost every farthing. Of all my hundred thousand pounds, my much envied " plum," not one penny was left. This, all this, did the poor alderman have to learn and to endure. It took many days to get at the whole, to discover the extent of the ruin. Yet his creditors — the poor women whose daily bread was gone, the tradesmen who saw no way left except bankruptcy, and perhaps a lifelong prison — were kind to him. He had been so honest, he had been so benevolent, so religious, so charitable, that none upbraided him. There was no reproachful eyes upon him when, the accountants having laid everything bare, nothing more remaining to be learned, he called his credi- tors together, told them all, which indeed they knew already, and spoke his farewell speech. " My friends," he said, " I am old, and have been young ; yet never have I seen the righteous man beg his bread. 1 have been righteous, according to my lights. God knoweth when we do amiss. As for this trouble that hath fallen upon you all, I pray you to remember that man is prone to err ; I have been over-contident, and I have been deceived and robbed. In this cursed South Sea stock, remember, I pray you, that I had neither part nor lot in it. Forgeries, forgeries all around me — -with for- geries have I been undone." His lips trembled as he tottered slowly to the door. Lord Eardesley. who was there, supported him from the counting-house to his own parlour. There sat his wife, sad and terrified . m BKTWKKN T.tPK AND DKATII. 117 They brou<;hfc him wine, Imb ho rofusod to drink it, sittin*,' mute and sorrowful. His wife knelt heforc him, crying and sobbing, and imploring pardon for all hor follies. He meekly bade her rise, saying that she had been a good wife to him, albeit fond of eards, and that (hiring the years which were left to him and to her, there would be little fear of eards interfering between them. Then he turned to Lord Eardesley, anct very piteously lamented the loss of his fortune and tliat of his betrothed, myself. " Nevertheless," he said, just and righteous to the last, " I lament not so much for you, my lord, and my dear ward Elinor, as for those poor women — those widows — whose honourable bread is gone. For who will help them ? who will feed them, unless it is He who fed the prophet ? And chiefly let us pray for that wretched boy, Christopher March, who hath brought this terrible trouble upon us, that he may be led to repent." Neither his wife nor Lord Eardesley spoke. I think that at that moment they would rather have joined in prayer that he might speedily meet with the rope that was to hang him. " Wife," he said, trying to rise, " let mo to bed. I have m\ich to think of." They led him to his room, and presently left him. All niirht 'ons: his wife sat beside him watchinij. His eyes were closed, but he was not sleepmg, and from time to time he spoke. Yet at last he dropi)ed asleep. Eai-ly in the morning he sat up, looked about him, and asked, in his usual voice, if all was well. Being assured that all was well, he fell back, and slept like a child. They awakened him at ten in the forenoon. His face was rather pale, but smiling and happy. And — oh ! won- derful interposition of Providential benevolence ! — he knew nothing of what had happened. My poor old guar- dian had gone mad. H n^ 118 BETWEEN JIFE AND DEATH. Afterwards, when I was recovered, Lord Eardesley took nie to a place where they kept him. His friends, the com- pany over which lie had presided, and the Court of Alder- men, could not bear to think that the good old man, re- duced to the utmost penury, should suffer in his lunacy. They placed him in the house of a physician, where but a few madmen were received — not the great awful Hos- pital of St. Bethlehem's — and provided tor him a room to himself, with such creature comforts as were judged best for him. Hither came, every day, to sit with him, soothe him, and please him, his faithful wife. Was it possible that this good, devoted, and honourable creature could have been the woman who once found all her happiness in cards, and all her hope in a good hand ? It but was once that I saw him. VV^e passed through a hall whose horrois were enough to drive faith in the goodness of Heaven away for ever from the breast, where poor creatures weie chained by short lengths to the wall like wild beasts, and wandered round and round like them, crying and novvl- ing with rage and fury and despair. When we reached my poor old guardian's room, we found him playing a game of backgannnon with his wife, lie did that all day long ; he never tired of it; she jUayed with him, without a mui- m.ir. And when he won, he would laugh and crow. He did not know us. He onlv invited us to sit down and watch the trame. His only sign of any recollection of the past that he gave was once or twice a week, when he used to laugh teL4)ly, rub his hands, and say ; '* Wife, I always said that South-Sea stock was no bet- ter than any bubble." he CHAPTER VIII. P^ HOME AGAIN. "^T was in August that I was stricken ; it was late in September that the fever left me ; it was in October tliat I learnedall, the wi'eck of our fortunes, the ruin and madness of my poor guardian, the elopement of Jenny, " My Nelly," said Geoffrey, " we have no- thing ; neither you nor I. The very daily expenses of this house are maintained by money borrowed from a friend, who lends it, I know, willingly enough Will you come with me to my poor bai-ron acres in WmIch, where we may live, somehow, like rustics, on j)ig, cow, sheep, garden, and orchard. The acres are broad enough, I know ; but they are overgrown with wo(m1 and cor- rupted vv^ith marsh. No one will take my farms ; there is not a tenant in the place. Yet wha , eLse can 1 offer you ( To me it seemed like a haven of bliss. Anything to "■et awiiy from London, ficm this dreadful place of cor- ruption whence, like the Valley of Hinnom, the stench and flame went up to the high heavens. Anything to change the current of my thoughts. Wales '. The broad barren acres ! Why, the place would be like Virginia. I should see, once more, forests and hills. I hesitated not; I would marry my lord where and when he pleased. We were married at the parish church, 120 HOME AGAIN. I at St. Olave's, by the good old clergyman, whose manner of reading the service reminded me so much of the alder- man. He was proud to marry a nobleman, and though there was no wedding feast he made us a little speech in the vestry room. He reminded us that adversity, like good fortune, was a jade which came and went, according to the behests of high Heaven ; that we must not look forward to a continuation of those buffets by which our worldly effects had been suddenly and violently bereft from us, but rather must cast around for means to use that rank, to which it has pleased God to call my hus- band, as a stepping-stone to fortune. Above all^ we might bear in mind that the world is for the young, that success is for the brave, and that where there is no ambition there is no struggle, and where no struggle there no glory. He meant well, the good old man, and when I took him aside and asked him if he knew aught of my poor Jenny, the tears ran down his cheeks and into the corners of his great fat lips. But he knew nothing. We were married. There was no ringing of bells ; there was no wedding feast ; there were no rejoicings; my old nurse was present, crying, my only friend ; the clerk gave me away ; no one was in the church ; outside, the carts and waggons drove up and down the narrow street ; the drivers swore ; the porters set down their loads and fought ; the signs hanging over the shop windows creaked and groaned in the autumn breeze ; and no one took any notice of it. After the ceremony I bade farewell for a while to my nurse, who returned for the present to the desolate house on Tower Hill, and we took coach to my lord's lodgings in Bury Street. Here we remained for a fortnight or three weeks. He had but few friends — where should a poor nobleman find friends ? — but these came to see me and invited us to their great 4iouses, and were as civil as if we were rich instead of being paupers. Home again. 121 In those days we talked a great deal about our future. We were young, and laughed at the disaster of losing all our money ; at least, I did. We were to go, we said, to Wales ; we would repair a corner o'' the ruined castle, and farm such of the land as was not too barren ; we would live away from the world, forgotten, and cultivate the simple mode of life praised by philosophers. That was our dream. I thought so much of Wales that I forgot Virginia. But one day a sudden thought came into my head. • " My dear," I said, " the man Christopher March could not have gambled away my estate in Virginia." He started. " Surely not," he said, " unless your title- deeds were in his hands." " I believe we have no title-deeds," I replied. " I should wonder, however, if any would dare to dispute the right of a Carellis. Geoffrey look into it. Oh ! my dear, we are not poor but rich. There is no estate . like it in Vir- ginia. It produces more than a thousand pounds by the year, and might produce two in careful hands. Geotfrey," I added, laying my hand on his arm and looking into his noble face, "shall we go to Virginia, you and I, and grow rich on our own lands ? " Well ; he was strangely moved at the proposal, and went away to consult a lawyer. By this time all the poor alderman's papers were in the hands of attorneys. It was discovered that he had never possessed my title-deeds, which were still in Virginia. Here was good news, indeed ; and now my whole thought was how to get away from this London, this city of villany and rogues, and find my- self back in my own country, where if we lived among thieves, which was true, they were in bondage and en- during hardness. > ^ J, My husband reasoned with me soberly about it. He was at first averse to leaving England. He thought that if w^e had a thousand pounds a year we might live on his estate in Wales, build a house, and, though we could not 'jgsi^f!^^^y y i':*'? v ?^^^'*y^'P'^'*ftvj my . I en tood >r a iOll- (loii Ijosier. Ifr liowod. and asked me wliat I niinht and please to lack. 1 leaned aeross the eonnter and wliispered : " Hath J^ysander quite foinot his (Marissa ^ " Ho ticnnbled and tinned pale, and his yard wr diopped from his hands. " Madam, " he Avhis|)ered, " I know yonr ladyshij) now. Your are Lady l<'ar(lesley. For Heaven's sake ! I am married and the t'athei- of ten " " Fear not, Lysander," I replied, "■ yoiu'seeret is safe from me. After the death <>f her tirst hushand I'larissa I'ound consolation in the arms of a st'eonr the sound iA' the la.sh, even thou*^h e knew that it was ]>artof the punishmetit, or felt that cut it was part of his if it was a nei;"ro receivii;.^' cliasfiseme ^ 'n reliij^ion ajid civilisation, never failed (o brinn" (Mlucation i the tears to my ev<'s e tears to my exes. The overseer called hiiu and he liftetl his head. At 134 HOME AGAIN, M : t sight of iiic ho fell grovelling and crying at my feet. For it was Christopher March. I said nothing to him, good or had, hut, being assured that it was the wicked wretch himself, tlius placed by Providence in our hands, I left him and went home. When my husband returned I told him all. It would be too long a story to relate how my lord sent for this rogue, Avhose sins had found him out, and dis- coursed'with him upon his miraculous escape and the oc- casion mercifully laid open to him for lepentance, and how the man with plentiful tears declared that he was al- ready deeply penitent. We kci)t from Alice the know- ledo*e that lier son was on the estate until such time as the overseers reported favourably of the man's goi)d Ir^ haviour and willingness. We then granted to nurse, lor her own use, a strip of ground at the far noi'th of our plan- tation, which had a cottai>e (jn it ; and we assi^'ned her own son to her as scivant, so that no one on tlie estate should know of the relationship. When she nd- children; sitting about me are my three daughters, happy matrons all; walking up the broad valley I see my hus- band, and, with him, two gallant sons. My heart is full. THE END. For